Artículos de revistas sobre el tema "Children, Black – Zimbabwe – Social conditions"

Historically, health care in Zimbabwe was provided primarily to cater to colonial administrators and the expatriate, with separate care or second-provision made for Africans. There was no need for legislation to guarantee its provision to the settler community. To address the inequities in health that had existed prior to 1980, at independence, Zimbabwe adopted the concept of Equity in Health and Primary Health Care. Initially, this resulted in the narrowing of the gap between health provision in rural areas and urban areas. Over the years, however, there have been clear indications of growing inequities in health provision and health care as a result of mainly Economic Structural Adjustment Policies (ESAP), 1991–1995, and health policy changes. Infant and child mortality have been worsened by the impact of HIV/AIDS and reduced access to affordable essential health care. For example, life expectancy at birth was 56 in the 1980s, increased to 60 in 1990 and is now about 43. Morbidity (diseases) and mortality (death rates) trends in Zimbabwe show that the population is still affected by the traditional preventable diseases and conditions that include nutritional deficiencies, communicable diseases, pregnancy and childbirth conditions and the conditions of the new born. The deterioration of the Zimbabwean health services sector has also partially been due to increasing shortages of qualified personnel. The public sector has been operating with only 19 per cent staff since 2000. Many qualified and competent health workers left the country because of the unfavourable political environment. The health system in Zimbabwe has been operating under a legal and policy framework that in essence does not recognize the right to health. Neither the pre-independence constitution nor the Lancaster House constitution, which is the current Constitution of Zimbabwe, made specific provisions for the right to health. Progress made in the 1980s characterized by adequate financing of the health system and decentralized health management and equity of health services between urban and rural areas, which saw dramatic increases in child survival rates and life expectancy, was, unfortunately, not consolidated. As of 2000 per capita health financing stood at USD 8.55 as compared to USD 23.6, which had been recommended by the Commission of Review into the Health Sector in 1997. At the beginning of 2008 it had been dramatically further eroded and stood at only USD 0.19 leading to the collapse of the health system. Similarly, education in Zimbabwe, in addition to the changes it has undergone during the different periods since attainment of independence, also went through many phases during the colonial period. From 1962 up until 1980, the Rhodesia Front government catered more for the European child. Luckily, some mission schools that had been established earlier kept on expanding taking in African children who could proceed with secondary education (high school education). Inequity in education existed when the ZANU-PF government came into power in 1980. It took aggressive and positive steps to redress the inequalities that existed in the past. Unfortunately, the government did not come up with an education policy or philosophy in spite of massive expansion and investment. The government had cut its expenditure on education because of economic and political instability. This has happened particularly in rural areas, where teachers have left the teaching profession.

AbstractChild sexual abuse (CSA) is a serious scourge that affects all countries globally. While there are myriad factors contributing the prevalence of CSA in Zimbabwe, poverty is arguably one of the major underlying issues and root causes of most of these factors. Over the past two decades, Zimbabwe has gone through an unprecedented economic meltdown; fewer resources are being channelled towards child protection leading to the decline in standards of living for children. Consequently, children are left vulnerable to poverty which exposes them to the risk of CSA. This paper discusses a number of poverty-related factors that are contributing to CSA in Zimbabwe. A qualitative study approach was adopted, and data were collected from 38 participants and four key informants who were selected using theoretical and purposive sampling, respectively. In addition, 300 court files of CSA cases were also reviewed. Notwithstanding other circumstances leading to CSA, findings showed that poverty-related vulnerabilities, such as adverse living conditions, rurality, child labour and migration, exposed children to CSA. The paper ends by discussing the policy and social work practice implications and recommendations in view of the findings.

<div><p><em>This research sets out to unravel the history of Lennox Mine from its inception in 1970 tracing the contribution of the mine to the economic development of Zimbabwe from its colonial beginnings up to the current period when the new visionary owner, Honourable Gandiwa Moyo, Deputy Minister of Mines who inherited a dysfunctional mining enterprise set it on course again as a pillar for economic production, under the erstwhile management of the Lennox General Mine Manager, Edgar Mashindi. The research seeks to explore how the mine management, operating under harsh economic conditions prevailing in Zimbabwe has empowered African entrepreneurs and employees and resuscitated life to the dying town of Mashava. Mashava is back on its former footing as a lively booming bedroom town of Masvingo City, forty kilometres away: supermarkets, bars, salons, housing projects, new shops are sprouting up once again as Mashava claims its proud place as a gold producing enclave of the Zimbabwean economy. Hundreds of unemployed youths from all over Zimbabwe have descended on Mashava, seeking employment and investment opportunities resulting in an unprecedented economic boom which is being felt country wide. Only recently hordes of flea female market traders opened shop at Mashava to sell clothes, shoes, household furniture and related paraphernalia to local residents and they reported that business was excellent and confirmed business plans to return every month end to sell their wares. A few years back Mashava was an abandoned mining town with all services shut down after the Capitalist oligarchic organization which owned Mashava ceased all operations and expropriated capital to Australia and Europe and started out new commercial ventures in those respective European countries. The Zimbabwean Electricity Supply Association [ZESA] shut down electricity supplies to Lennox Mine after the mine incurred a debt of close to a quarter of a million. Today, Lennox has agreed on a payment plan and electricity has been reopened triggering high gold productivity as the mine returns to its normal production levels.</em></p></div>

ABSTRACTResearch has shown that mothers often differentiate among their adult children in terms of closeness and support; however, studies have not addressed why some mothers report preferences among children and others do not. To distinguish between mothers who do and do not report favouring some of their adult children, we used data from a within-family study in which 553 older mothers were interviewed about each of their children. Almost all of the mothers reported differentiating among their children regarding emotional closeness, confiding, or preference among caregivers. Multivariate analyses revealed that mothers' values and mother-child value similarity predicted which mothers differentiated among their children regarding closeness and confiding, whereas mothers' and children's demographic characteristics predicted which mothers differentiated regarding preferred caregivers. Black mothers were less likely than white mothers to differentiate when seeking a confidant; however, race played no role in mothers' likelihood of differentiating regarding emotional closeness or help during illness. Taken together, these findings indicate that differentiating among adult children is common; further, family-level predictors of mothers' differentiating mirror the patterns shown in dyad-level analyses of mothers' favouritism.

Housing as a place where household members spend about half (12 hours) of their daily time, including six to eight hours in sleep, is one of the essential conditions in the fight against poverty and precariousness. The current Congolese urban environment is facing serious problems: small plots of land, lack of suitable housing in relation to the size and composition of households, overcrowding, and water and electricity supplies. This situation is becoming critical with the appearance of deviant behavior among children aged between 10 and 30. The government and its development partners have demonstrated their powerlessness face to this situation, leaving thousands of children on the streets without education or family warmth to form real criminal gangs. These street children have created the phenomena of "kuluna" and "black babies". It has been shown that these one act in this way for their survival, claiming their rights. In this study, we find innovative proposals to provide households sheltering adulterine and adoptive children with low-cost social housing, in order to restore the image of the head of the household and provide the children with a pleasant space for their physical, economic, cultural and spiritual development. This will undoubtedly help to find solutions to the problems facing children and indeed Congolese society as a whole today. The study revealed that if the government does not take practical measures in response to the phenomena created by wayward children, especially "black babies" and "kuluna", there will be a massive adherence of other children, especially the adulterine and adoptive ones. There will be a risk of the phenomena will to be exported to rural areas. The study recommends a "State - Household" partnership in the manufacture of new types of urban housing for households housing children likely to integrate or create gangs, jeopardizing social order and public security.

AbstractObjectiveTo assess socio-economic indicators, nutritional status and living conditions of farm workers and their families, with the purpose to develop research and intervention programmes aimed at enhancing nutritional status and quality of life.Design and settingThree farm schools in two districts of the North-West Province and farming communities were selected. Anthropometrical measurements, structured face-to-face questionnaires and focus group discussions were carried out in 2002 and 2003 by a multidisciplinary research team.ResultsAccess to electricity, water and sanitation, as well as monthly food rations or subsidies, vary and depend on farm owners. The majority of adults have education below or up to grade four, farm schools provide only up to grade seven. Distance to farm schools and intra-household issues hamper children's attendance and performance at school. Household food security is compromised due to a lack of financial resources, infrastructure and also household resource allocation. This impacts negatively especially on children, with half of them being underweight, stunted or wasted. Employment is usually linked to men, while most women have access to casual jobs only. Insecurity of residence and the perceived disempowered position towards farm owners add to feelings of hopelessness and stress.Conclusions and recommendationsThis study highlights destitute living conditions of farm worker families. Apart from structural and financial constraints, paternalistic structures of the past might also hamper development. Based on these findings, follow-up research projects and in-depth investigations into underlying social issues with regard to nutrition insecurity and livelihoods of farm workers were initiated.

Rates of alcohol use disorders (AUD) are generally low among women who have ever had children (mothers) compared to women who have never had children (nonmothers), presenting a motherhood advantage. It is unclear if this advantage accrues to “Black” and “White” women alike. Using National Epidemiological Survey on Alcohol and Related Conditions (NESARC) wave 2 cross-sectional data that is rich in alcohol use and psychological measures, we examined the following: (a) if motherhood is protective for past-year AUD among Black (N=4,133) and White women (N=11,017); (b) potential explanatory psychological mechanisms; and (c) the role of race. Prevalence of a past-year DSM-IV AUD was lower among White mothers compared to White nonmothers, but this same advantage was not observed for Black women. Perceived stress was a risk for all women, but race-ethnic segregated social networks and perceived discrimination predicted current AUD for Black mothers. Unlike White mothers, current psychological factors but not family history of alcohol problems predicted AUD for Black mothers. Future prospective studies should address the mechanisms by which race, motherhood, and psychological factors interactively affect AUD in women.

HIV and AIDS is an urgent housing and human settlements issue, especially among women and children living in poverty and suffering from poor housing conditions in urban slums in the South. The link between poverty and HIV prevalence is well established, and the fact that inadequate shelter increases the vulnerability of the urban poor to HIV and AIDS is increasingly recognised. Since 2003, Rooftops Canada and their partners in Kenya, Tanzania, Cameroon, Zimbabwe, South Africa, and more recently Uganda, have been working on strategies and developing programmes to respond to the AIDS crisis in these countries. Related programmes link shelter to poverty reduction through sustainable economic and social development, environmental protection, respect for human rights, democratisation and gender equality. This paper compiles the experiences of the partner housing organisations and resource groups in Sub-Saharan Africa responding to HIV and AIDS among their constituent stakeholders. The community-based responses focus on promoting social sustainability, enhancing operational capacity and improving financial sustainability. Community-based responses relate to issues of stigma and discrimination, reducing the impact of housing rights violations and responding to the specific vulnerability of children, women and youth. Social sustainability deals with the impact of HIV and AIDS on the social viability of communities. Operational capacity analyses housing groups' responses to the organ-isational impact of HIV and AIDS - including loss of staff, leadership and institutional memory, decreased productivity and capacity - and the experience of including HIV and AIDS within the core organisational mandate. Financial sustainability explores the challenges of reconciling related financial and social goals.

Within American sociolinguistics there is a substantial body of research on race as a social variable that conditions language behavior, particularly with regard to black speakers of African American English (AAE) in contact with their white neighbors (e.g., Wolfram, 1971; Rickford, 1985; Myhill, 1986; Bailey, 2001; Cukor-Avila, 2001). Today, the communities that sociolinguists study are more multi-layered than ever, particularly in a metropolis like New York City, thus warranting more complex analyses of the interaction between race and language. Along these lines, Spears (1988) notes the sorely underestimated social and linguistic heterogeneity of the black population in the U.S., which needs to be considered in studies of the language of black speakers. This critique is addressed in work of Winer and Jack (1997), as well as Nero (2001), for example, on the use of Caribbean English in New York City. These two studies broaden our notions of the Englishes spoken in the United States by black people, particularly first generation immigrants. The current research goes one step further with an examination of the English spoken by children of black immigrants to New York City.We focus on second generation Caribbean populations whose parents migrated from the English-speaking Caribbean to the United States, and who commonly refer to themselves as West Indians.

On March 26, 2018, Jennifer Hart drove her SUV off a cliff along the northern coast of California with her partner and at least five of their transracially adopted Black children inside. Their remains were recovered at the crash site. As of this writing, a sixth child, Devonte, remains missing and is presumed dead. Four years before the crash, Devonte was famously photographed at the age of twelve, tearfully hugging a white police officer at a Ferguson rally in Portland, Oregon. By simultaneously occupying the feel-good spectacle of interracial intimacy and the everyday tragedy of interracial violence, Devonte embodies and embodied the conditions of contemporary Black life and death in the United States. His disappearance is intimately linked to other forms and histories of American state violence. Through cultural analysis, autoethnography, and poetic intervention, this essay performs wake work as a method for living with the unmournable.

Much research has been done in developing and implementing smoking prevention programs; however, few studies have focused on urban Black populations. In November of 1989, a comprehensive prevention program was implemented to decrease the incidence of new smokers within the adolescent population in a Black community. The program combined a school-based curriculum with a comprehensive media intervention. All components of the program were financed by business leaders from the targeted community. There were two experimental conditions: one group participated in a school-based intervention and were prompted to participate in a multi-media intervention and the other group had access to the multi-media intervention; however, they were not prompted to participate. A key finding was that the rate of smoking decreased for all children involved in the intervention. The authors present a model that can be employed to prevent other high-risk behaviors within the Black population.

This cross-sectional population-based study in a peripheral low-income community in São Paulo, Brazil, aimed to estimate the prevalence of unsafe abortion and identify the socio-demographic characteristics associated with it and its morbidity. The article discusses the study's results, based on univariate and multiple multinomial logistic regression analyses. The final regression models included: age at first intercourse < 16 years (OR = 4.80); > 2 sex partners in the previous year (OR = 3.63); more live born children than the woman's self-reported ideal number (OR = 3.09); acceptance of the abortion due to insufficient economic conditions (OR = 4.07); black ethnicity/color (OR = 2.67); and low schooling (OR = 2.46), all with p < 0.05. The discussion used an approach to social determinants of health based on the concept and model adopted by the WHO and the health inequities caused by such determinants in the occurrence of unsafe abortion. According to the findings, unsafe abortion and socio-demographic characteristics are influenced by the social determinants of health described in the study, generating various levels of health inequities in this low-income population.

In this article we report on research-in-progress. A number of bright black youths are currently studying at the University of Pretoria, thriving in a project that seeks to address the challenges faced by so many children from South Africa who daily face adverse conditions in their struggle to gain education so that they can earn a decent living and contribute to the development of the country. Our article contemplates the multilayered challenges at a South African university signified by diversity. Our hope is to contribute to the current debate on developing a counselling mode giving recognition to social groups belonging to the middle and low ends of society's power structure — especially as played out in the domain of education and psychology.

African Americans, other minorities and underserved populations are consistently under- represented in clinical trials. Such underrepresentation results in a gap in the evidence base, and health disparities. The ABC Cardiovascular Implementation Study (CVIS) is a comprehensive prospective cohort registry that integrates social determinants of health. ABC CVIS uses real world clinical practice data to address critical gaps in care by facilitating robust participation of African Americans and other minorities in clinical trials. ABC CVIS will include diverse patients from collaborating ABC member private practices, as well as patients from academic health centers and Federally Qualified Health Centers (FQHCs). This paper describes the rationale and design of the ABC CVIS Registry. The registry will: (1) prospectively collect socio-demographic, clinical and biospecimen data from enrolled adults, adolescents and children with prioritized cardiovascular diseases; (2) Evaluate the safety and clinical outcomes of new therapeutic agents, including post marketing surveillance and pharmacovigilance; (3) Support National Institutes of Health (NIH) and industry sponsored research; (4) Support Quality Measures standards from the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS) and Commercial Health Plans. The registry will utilize novel data and technology tools to facilitate mobile health technology application programming interface (API) to health system or practice electronic health records (EHR). Long term, CVIS will become the most comprehensive patient registry for underserved diverse patients with cardiovascular disease (CVD) and co morbid conditions, providing real world data to address health disparities. At least 10,000 patients will be enrolled from 50 sites across the United States.

This article considers the social and economic conditions under which Creoles of Color left the state of Louisiana from 1920-1940.1 Because Creoles in the years following 1920 were legally reclassified as black, many lost their land, social and legal rights, and access to education as well as the possibility of upward mobility to which they had previously had access when they were accorded the status of a distinct/legal ethnic group. Creole families had to make decisions about the economic, social, religious, and cultural futures of their children and the community as a whole. As a form of resistance to colonial and neocolonial rule, thousands of Creoles left Louisiana, following the pattern established by members of the previous generation who had anticipated the advent and implications of the new legal racial system as far back as the mid to late 1800s and had engaged in the first wave of migration from 1840-1890, moving primarily from rural ethnic enclaves to larger urban cities within the US and to international sites such as Mexico, Cuba, Haiti, Brazil, and other parts of the Caribbean and Latin America where racial lines were more fluid (Gehman, 1994).

AbstractRecently, there has been an increasing amount of scientific interest towards the broad theme of racial inequalities and their impact on human health, specifically exploring how ethnic discrimination affects the wellness of black people and the COVID-19 pandemic. Some of these conditions of inequity also affect black children. Discrimination and racism should be routinely considered as causative agents or triggers of disease and routinely included in clinical examination, during history collection and evaluation of vital signs. This will benefit child and family health, worldwide. We shared our recent experience by reporting a case of a 13-year-old black girl who came to Italy from Niger about 3 years earlier through the traumatizing migratory journey. She was evaluated in the Pediatric Emergency Department (PED) for sleepiness that had progressively worsened during the last days. We describe the case and how it was handled differently by pediatricians and pediatric trainees with equally different personal and professional backgrounds.We also report the preliminary results of a national survey aimed to assess discrimination and inequalities in Italian Paediatric Residency Schools. Medical ability has been allowing us to respond rapidly to a novel virus in order to save lives. The expertise of doctors and researchers must be used to evaluate this hidden crisis as well, to address racism and injustice and to protect vulnerable people from harm. Our case showed us how it is essential including racial and gender discrimination in a diagnostic process.

Abstract Older Black Americans living with diabetes often receive social support critical to their self-care management practices and quality of life. Studies have reported positive relationships between support and diabetes care among this population, although gender differences exist, with men reporting better quality of life outcomes associated with diabetes self-management than women. More information is needed to to assist healthcare providers indeveloping gender-tailored interventions to improve diabetes self-management. Using data from the 2015 National Health and Aging Trends Study (NHATS; Round 5), a nationally representative sample of Medicare beneficiaries aged 65 and older, our cross-sectional study describes gender differences in receiving assistance with self-care, mobility, and household needs among older Black adults with diabetes (N=621). Participants were majority female (59% Females; 41%Males). Bivariate analyses showed women were often older with fewer years of education, lower incomes, and were more likely to live with others than men. A larger share of respondents reported receiving assistance with household activities (34%; e.g. shopping, medication administration), followed by self-care (21%; e.g. bathing, dressing), and mobility tasks (17%; e.g. getting around inside and outside of the house). Binary logistic regression showed that women were more likely to report receiving assistance with all three tasks after adjusting for age, education, income, living arrangements, number of health conditions, and self-rated health. Future research should identify the relationships between caregivers and care recipients (e.g. spouse/partner, children), as receiving support with daily needs has the potential to impact both the health and quality of life of both caregivers and care-recipients.

Schools in America may provide opportunities for upward mobility while also perpetuating social inequality. The inequities found in the US public school system probably result in such a highly stratified society. Conditions found in many schools and classrooms are often a microcosm of the same conditions and factors present in the broader American society. Scholars and education reform activists often use the term school-to-prison pipeline to describe what they view as a widespread pattern in the United States of pushing students, especially those who are already at a disadvantage, out of school, and into the criminal justice system. This research explored whether mentorship in the lives of these very students can affect the trajectory that these students take in life by moving toward a pedagogy of liberation that challenges the inequities and contradictions in the institution of education. Building from a model similar to CDF Freedom Schools, but targeting academic enrichment, Farrah and her colleague Hope developed the Sankofa Project at Yin Elementary School (YES). Embracing both the social-emotional and pedagogical aspects of CDF Freedom Schools, the Sankofa Project moved from a mission that sought to instill a love for reading to actually teaching children to read. This aspect was pivotally important to Farrah and Hope as they sought to dismantle the “cradle to prison pipeline,” the concept of funneling masses of people into marginalized lives, imprisonment, and often premature death. Farrah believed that all her predecessors had done “was spot on, but academic enrichment was a key to steering children away from the pipeline.” With the rebirth of a caste-like system in America, black and brown bodies are disproportionately locked behind bars, relegated permanent second-class status if declared a felon and an increasingly common trend toward annihilation at the hands of those of who are designated to serve and protect them.

Disaffected, impoverished, and displaced people in weak and failing states are particularly vulnerable. Human trafficking exploits social and political turmoil caused by natural disasters, economic crisis, and armed conflict. The exploitation and forced servitude of millions of trafficking victims take many forms. Women and children are trafficked into becoming child soldiers and concubines of illegal armed groups, men, women and children are trafficked into forced labor and sexual slavery, forced to sell drugs, steal, and beg money for the criminals controlling them, and thousands are coerced or forced into a growing black market trade in human body parts. The growth in illegal mining operations by illegal armed groups and organized crime is also fueling conditions of forced labor. Trafficking victims are dehumanized and suffer grave physical and mental illness and often die at the hands of their captors and exploiters. Colombia is particularly afflicted by the scourge of human trafficking. All the elements of modern-day slavery and human exploitation are present in this Latin American state that is struggling to overcome decades of internal armed conflict, social fragmentation, poverty, and the constant debilitating presence of organized crime and corruption. Women’s Link Worldwide recently reported that human trafficking is not viewed as an internal problem among Colombian officials, despite estimates that more than 70,000 people are trafficked within Colombia each year. This article examines human trafficking in its many forms in Colombia, the parties involved in trafficking, and the State’s response or lack of response to human trafficking. The article also presents innovations that might be effective for combating human trafficking, and proposes that Colombia can serve as an effective model for other countries to address this growing domestic and international human rights catastrophe.

Background: Socioeconomic status (SES) resources protect children and adults against the risk of medical and psychiatric conditions. According to the Minorities’ Diminished Returns theory, however, such protective effects are systemically weaker for the members of racial and ethnic minority groups compared to Whites. Aims: Using a national data set with 15 years of follow up, we compared Black and White youth for the effects of family SES at birth on the risk of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) at age 15. Methods: The Fragile Families and Child Wellbeing Study (FFCWS, 1998–2016) is a longitudinal prospective study of urban youth from birth to age 15. This analysis included 2006 youth who were either White (n = 360) or Black (n = 1646). The independent variable was family income, the dependent variable was ADHD at age 15. Child gender, maternal age, and family type at birth were covariates, and race was the focal moderator. We ran logistic regressions in the overall sample and specific to race. Results: In the overall sample, high family income at birth was not associated with the risk of ADHD at age 15, independent of all covariates. Despite this relationship, we found a significant interaction between race and family income at birth on subsequent risk of ADHD, indicating a stronger effect for Whites compared to Blacks. In stratified models, we found a marginally significant protective effect of family SES against the risk of ADHD for White youths. For African American youth, on the other hand, family SES was shown to have a marginally significant risk for ADHD. Conclusions: The health gain that follows family income is smaller for Black than White families, which is in line with the Minorities’ Diminished Returns. The solution to health disparities is not simply policies that aim to reduce the racial gap in SES, because various racial health disparities in the United States are not due to differential access to resources but rather the impact of these resources on health outcomes. Public policies, therefore, should go beyond equalizing access to resources and also address the structural racism and discrimination that impact Blacks’ lives. Policies should fight racism and should help Black families to overcome barriers in their lives so they can gain health from their SES and social mobility. As racism is multi-level, multi-level interventions are needed to tackle diminished returns of SES.

Background The number of young adults with complex health-care needs due to life-limiting conditions/complex physical disability has risen significantly over the last 15 years, as more children now survive into adulthood. The transition from children to adult services may disrupt provision of essential respite/short break care for this vulnerable population, but the impact on young adults, families and providers is unclear. Aim To review the evidence on respite care provision for young adults (aged 18–40 years) with complex health-care needs, provide an evidence gap analysis and develop a conceptual framework for respite care. Design A two-stage mixed-methods systematic review, including a knowledge map of respite care and an evidence review of policy, effectiveness, cost-effectiveness and experience. Data sources Electronic databases and grey/unpublished literature were searched from 2002 to September 2019. The databases searched included Cumulative Index to Nursing and Allied Health Literature, MEDLINE, EMBASE, PsycINFO, Applied Social Sciences Index and Abstracts, Health Management Information Consortium, PROSPERO, Turning Research into Practice, COnNECT+, British Nursing Index, Web of Science, Social Care Online, the National Institute for Health Research Journals Library, Cochrane Effective Practice and Organisation of Care specialist register, databases on The Cochrane Library and international clinical trials registers. Additional sources were searched using the CLUSTER (Citations, Lead authors, Unpublished materials, Scholar search, Theories, Early examples, Related projects) approach and an international ‘call for evidence’. Methods and analysis Multiple independent reviewers used the SPICE (Setting, Perspective, Intervention/phenomenon of interest, Comparison, Evaluation) framework to select and extract evidence for each stage, verified by a third reviewer. Study/source characteristics and outcomes were extracted. Study quality was assessed using relevant tools. Qualitative evidence was synthesised using a framework approach and UK policy was synthesised using documentary content analysis. GRADE-CERQual (Grading of Recommendations Assessment, Development and Evaluation-Confidence in the Evidence from Reviews of Qualitative Research) was used to assess confidence in the evidence. Logic models developed for each type of respite care constituted the conceptual framework. Results We identified 69 sources (78 records) from 126,267 records. The knowledge map comprised the following types of respite care: residential, home based, day care, community, leisure/social provision, funded holidays and emergency. Seven policy intentions included early transition planning and prioritising respite care according to need. No evidence was found on effectiveness and cost-effectiveness. Qualitative evidence focused largely on residential respite care. Facilitators of accessible/acceptable services included trusted and valued relationships, independence and empowerment of young adults, peer social interaction, developmental/age-appropriate services and high standards of care. Barriers included transition to adult services, paperwork, referral/provision delay and travelling distance. Young adults from black, Asian and minority ethnic populations were under-represented. Poor transition, such as loss of or inappropriate services, was contrary to statutory expectations. Potential harms included stress and anxiety related to safe care, frustration and distress arising from unmet needs, parental exhaustion, and a lack of opportunities to socialise and develop independence. Limitations No quantitative or mixed-methods evidence was found on effectiveness or cost-effectiveness of respite care. There was limited evidence on planned and emergency respite care except residential. Conclusions Policy intentions are more comprehensively met for young people aged < 18 years who are accessing children’s services. Young adults with complex needs often ‘fall off a cliff’ following service withdrawal and this imbalance needs addressing. Future work Research to quantify the effectiveness and cost-effectiveness of respite care to support service development and commissioning. Development of a core set of outcomes measures to support future collation of evidence. Study registration This study is registered as PROSPERO CRD42018088780. Funding This project was funded by the National Institute for Health Research (NIHR) Health Services and Delivery Research programme and will be published in full in Health Services and Delivery Research; Vol. 9, No. 6. See the NIHR Journals Library website for further project information.

Background In the United States, racial and ethnic minorities are disproportionately affected by COVID-19, with persistent social and structural factors contributing to these disparities. At the intersection of race/ethnicity and gender, women of color may be disadvantaged in terms of COVID-19 outcomes due to their role as essential workers, their higher prevalence of pre-existing conditions, their increased stress and anxiety from the loss of wages and caregiving, and domestic violence. Objective The purpose of this study is to examine racial and ethnic differences in the prevalence of COVID-19 outcomes, stressors, fear, and prevention behaviors among adult women residing in the United States. Methods Between May and June 2020, women were recruited into the Capturing Women’s Experiences in Outbreak and Pandemic Environments (COPE) Study, a web-based cross-sectional study, using advertisements on Facebook; 491 eligible women completed a self-administered internet-based cross-sectional survey. Descriptive statistics were used to examine racial and ethnic differences (White; Asian; Native Hawaiian or other Pacific Islander; Black; Hispanic, Latina, or Spanish Origin; American Indian or Alaskan Native; multiracial or some other race, ethnicity, or origin) on COVID-19 outcomes, stressors, fear, and prevention behaviors. Results Among our sample of women, 16% (73/470) reported COVID-19 symptoms, 22% (18/82) were concerned about possible exposure from the people they knew who tested positive for COVID-19, and 51.4% (227/442) knew where to get tested; yet, only 5.8% (27/469) had been tested. Racial/ethnic differences were observed, with racial/ethnic minority women being less likely to know where to get tested. Significant differences in race/ethnicity were observed for select stressors (food insecurity, not enough money, homeschooling children, unable to have a doctor or telemedicine appointment) and prevention behaviors (handwashing with soap, self-isolation if sick, public glove use, not leaving home for any activities). Although no racial/ethnic differences emerged from the Fear of COVID-19 Scale, significant racial/ethnic differences were observed for some of the individual scale items (eg, being afraid of getting COVID-19, sleep loss, and heart racing due to worrying about COVID-19). Conclusions The low prevalence of COVID-19 testing and knowledge of where to get tested indicate a critical need to expand testing for women in the United States, particularly among racial/ethnic minority women. Although the overall prevalence of engagement in prevention behaviors was high, targeted education and promotion of prevention activities are warranted in communities of color, particularly with consideration for stressors and adverse mental health.

The patterning, correction and expansion of primary natural science education that is based on ex-haustive research are necessary to perceive the peculiarities of natural science education of the junior pupils aged from 6 to 12. The revision of particular training issues of the junior period (content, methods and forms) is insufficient in order children should become the equal members of society, nation and the world yet in childhood. Foreign scientists carry out a number of different investigations in the field of primary natural science education. In fact, the importance of natural science education is accepted putting emphasis on primary school. In considering the place of the natural sciences in the curriculum of schools, one cannot fail to recog-nize their centrality in the lives and work of those of us living in the industrialized countries around the globe (Shafer, 1996). After 1950 the subsequent positions were more frequent: primary natural science education has to be a creative process, sciences teaching cannot be only nature study. Scrupulous attention is devoted to chemistry issues in primary school. It is underlined that the field should be revised more attentively as the child faces plenty of chemical substances in daily life. The proceeding following moments are worth to be mentioned: • children have a natural sense of wonder and curiosity about their world (Qualter, 1994; Alford, 1997); • exists a distinction between children’s life knowledge and scientific knowledge. The transition from the first to the second is not always automatic or linear (Black, Lucas, 1993); • learning in primary science is most effective when children can interpret their own experience and in-vestigations in scientific terms (Wenham, 1995). It can be concluded that: • one of the burning issues is natural science and technological literacy; • much attention is devoted to broadening children’s cognitive abilities, it is emphasized that the suc-cess of primary natural science education should depend on teaching quality that is given to chil-dren; • a consistent important didactic pattern is stressed – from simple visions to the interpretation, devel-opment, etc. of scientific concepts; • It is sought to examine the impact of the cognitive factors on the success of learning (achievements) as well as that of motivation, teaching methodology, classroom microclimate, a social environment, etc.; • more and more attention is focused on the alteration of natural science education paradigms – from academic science subjects teaching to “science for all”. The most important directions of research are the final goals of natural science education of the present century and the most effective strate-gies of teaching; • primary teachers’ natural science competency is given very close attention. Different approaches are searched for making primary natural science education more effective. Akvileva ir Klepinina (2001, p.3) state that one of the weakest links in the training of primary natural science teachers are limited students’ abilities to transfer theoretic knowledge into practical activities; • natural science education curricula and its planning are very important aspects. Though a curriculum itself does not guarantee the quality of natural science education, it is a suitable instrument for the teacher. Designing of primary natural science education curricula is one of the obligatory compo-nents of the teacher’s competency. The content of the curricula of the main science subjects re-mains problematic. It is clear that the content of primary natural science education should be inte-grated. However, it does not mean that the knowledge of biology, chemistry, and physics is not in-troduced. The question about the balance of the main fields arises. Assessment shows that the knowledge of chemistry is very poor and requires obligatory and exhaustive research in the field. Unusually prominent “biologization” makes pupils’ natural science education poor, lays down pre-conditions to give up on chemistry and physics.

The challenge for rural communities to provide quality education for early childhood in Indonesia is difficult. National politics, policies, and economic and cultural conditions affect the Early Childhood Education system, and Indonesia is a large multicultural country, so, even the quality of education is difficult. This study aims to look at the quality of children's education in Pandalungan. Using qualitative methods with ethnographic design, data collection techniques using interviews, observation, and documentation. The results showed that educational institutions for children in urban areas can be categorized quite high. However, for early childhood education services in Desa Sukorambi Pandalungan, the quality is quite poor. Research suggestions are the need for follow-up related to social, economic, cultural and environmental factors at the level of Pandalungan community awareness of early childhood education. Keywords: Early Childhood, Learning Quality, Pandalungan Community References: Bernal, R., & Ramírez, S. M. (2019). Improving the quality of early childhood care at scale: The effects of “From Zero to Forever.” World Development, 118, 91–105. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.worlddev.2019.02.012 Bers, M. U., González-González, C., & Armas-Torres, M. B. (2019). Coding as a playground: Promoting positive learning experiences in childhood classrooms. Computers and Education, 138, 130–145. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.compedu.2019.04.013 Biersteker, L., Dawes, A., Hendricks, L., & Tredoux, C. (2016). Center-based early childhood care and education program quality: A South African study. Early Childhood Research Quarterly, 36, 334–344. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ecresq.2016.01.004 Burchinal, M. (2018). Measuring Early Care and Education Quality. Child Development Perspectives, 12(1), 3–9. https://doi.org/10.1111/cdep.12260 Church, A., & Bateman, A. (2019). Methodology and professional development: Conversation Analytic Role-play Method (CARM) for early childhood education. Journal of Pragmatics, 143(xxxx), 242–254. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.pragma.2019.01.022 Ciolan, L. E. (2013). Play to Learn, Learn to Play. Creating Better Opportunities for Learning in Early Childhood. Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences, 76, 186–189. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.sbspro.2013.04.096 Correia, N., Camilo, C., Aguiar, C., & Amaro, F. (2019). Children’s right to participate in early childhood education settings: A systematic review. Children and Youth Services Review, 100, 76–88. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.childyouth.2019.02.031 Cycyk, L. M., & Hammer, C. S. (2018). Beliefs, values, and practices of Mexican immigrant families towards language and learning in toddlerhood: Setting the foundation for early childhood education. Early Childhood Research Quarterly. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ecresq.2018.09.009 Dick, C. & C. (2009). The Sistematic Design Of Instruction. New Jersey: Upper Saddle River. Grindal, T., Bowne, J. B., Yoshikawa, H., Schindler, H. S., Duncan, G. J., Magnuson, K., & Shonkoff, J. P. (2016). The added impact of parenting education in early childhood education programs: A meta-analysis. Children and Youth Services Review, 70, 238–249. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.childyouth.2016.09.018 Herbers, J. E., Cutuli, J. J., Jacobs, E. L., Tabachnick, A. R., & Kichline, T. (2019). Early childhood risk and later adaptation: A person-centered approach using latent profiles. Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology, 62(January), 66–76. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.appdev.2019.01.003 Hunkin, E. (2018). Whose quality? The (mis)uses of quality reform in early childhood and education policy. Journal of Education Policy, 33(4), 443–456. https://doi.org/10.1080/02680939.2017.1352032 Johson, J. E, & Roopnarine, J. L. (2011). Pendidikan anak usia dini dalam berbagai pendekatan. Jakarta: Kencana Prenada Media Group. Lucas, F. M. M. (2017). The Game as an Early Childhood Learning Resource for Intercultural Education. Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences, 237(June 2016), 908–913. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.sbspro.2017.02.127 Atwi Suparman. (2012). Desain Intruksional Modern. Jakarta: Erlangga. Mapiare, A. (2013). Tipe-tipe Metode Riset Kualitatif Untuk Eksplanasi Sosial Budaya Dan Bimbingan Konseling. Malang: Elang Emas & Prodi Bimbingan Dan Konseling Fakultas Ilmu Pendidikan Universitas Negeri Malang. Milner, K. M., Bhopal, S., Black, M., Dua, T., Gladstone, M., Hamadani, J., … Lawn, J. E. (2019). Counting outcomes, coverage and quality for early child development programmes. Archives of Disease in Childhood, 104, S3–S12. https://doi.org/10.1136/archdischild-2018-315430 Morrison, G. S. (2012). Dasar-dasar Pendidikan Anak Usia Dini. Jakarta: Indeks. Nutbrown, C. (2011). Key Concepts in Early Childhood Education and Care (2nd ed.). London: SAGE Publication Ltd. Perpres. Pelaksanaan Pencapaian Tujuan Pembangunan Berkelanjutan. , 6 Peraturan Presiden RI § (2017). Puspita, W. A. (2013). Multikulturalisme dalam Pendidikan Anak Usia Dini. Jurnal Ilmiah VISI P2TK PAUDNI, 8(2), 144–152. Raikes, A., Sayre, R., Davis, D., Anderson, K., Hyson, M., Seminario, E., & Burton, A. (2019). The Measuring Early Learning Quality & Outcomes initiative: purpose, process and results. Early Years, 39(4), 360–375. https://doi.org/10.1080/09575146.2019.1669142 Satrio Roefandi, P. (2019). Keluarga Pendalungan, Keluarga Berbasis Budaya Madura Atau Jawa? 10 Th Psychofest Conference, (March), 316–324. https://doi.org/10.31227/osf.io/v8g5b Stokoe, E. (2014). The Conversation Analytic Role-play Method (CARM): a method for training communication skills as an alternative to simulated role-play. Res. Lang. Soc. Interact, 47(3), 255–265. Sutarto, A. (2006). Sekilas Tentang Masyarakat Pandalungan. Jelajah Budaya 2006, 1–7. Suyadi. (2010). 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The paper "Potential and prospects of placement of preschool educational institutions in the difficult terrain conditions in the context of the South of Ukraine" spotlights terrain characteristics of the South of Ukraine, identifies physical and geographical features of the southern regions, analyses terrain characteristics of Odessa, Dnipropetrovsk (Sichelavskiy), Kherson, Mykolaiv, Zaporizhzhya regions and also territories of the Autonomous Republic of Crimea and Sevastopol. The land fund condition of the south of Ukraine is considered in the paper and the analysis of the functional distribution of lands is given. The landforms of the southern Ukraine were identified in the paper, among which the most common were coastal slopes of water bodies (Black and Azov seas, large rivers, etcetera ) and mountains located on the territory of the Crimean peninsula, hills, ravines, gullies and other landforms. The classification of difficult terrains by the shape of the earth's surface unevenness and slopes treated in the paper. The potential, advantages and disadvantages of placing kindergartens on the territories with a difficult topography of the southern region of Ukraine are considered based on comparative analysis of 33 preschool educational institutions, placed on a difficult terrain. It is shown that the eight main factors affect on the formation of preschool educational institutions on a difficult terrain: The natural-geographical factor, including the totality of natural features, which are characteristic of the territory where the preschool educational institution is being places, can include: terrain features (slope steepness, shape, elevation difference, altitude according to Baltic Normal Height System, etcetera), the soil composition in the design area and their tendency to erosion and landslides, climatic features of the design area, and a number of other factors. The socio-demographic factor is characterized by quantitative-qualitative composition of the population in the design area, distribution by age and gender, social status, economic well- being. This factor is the main one in assessing the needs of residents in access to preschool, which determines the number of new preschool educational institutions, also it helps to identify potential places for their placement, and can be used in calculating the number of places and the composition of the premises in the preschool institution. The safety factor, when buildings and structures of preschool educational institutions are located in areas with a difficult terrain, affect on the choice of finishing and building materials (the use of non-slip, safety materials that meet the sanitary and hygienic standards, fire safety require-ments, the use of safety fences, necessary heights and types, in areas with a sharp difference in heights, etcetera), as well as for planning decisions (placement of inclusive cells for groups on a relative but equal parts of the site, minimizing the number of steps in terraced type of accommodation, and other planning decisions). The economic factor during the erection must include increasing in the cost of construc- tion and its complexity in connection with terrain characteristics. The negative impact of this factor can be partially eliminated by reducing the plot of land cost, as well as the possibility of ration-alizing the site development ( the usage of types of placement with a minimum amount of land work, compact construction, the usage of additional area due to operated roof) and more. The constructive factor affects the rational selection of the constructive scheme and the choice of constructive decisions, when the building is located on a plot with a difficult topography. The aesthetic factor should take into account the geometry specificities and terrain charac- teristics, and maximize the usage of their potential in creating a holistic architectural and artistic image of the building, also should create a harmonious and comfortable environment for the peda- gogical process, positively affect on the child’s emotional state and encourage him or her to ex- plore the world. The environmental factor should be taken into account, while making architectural deci- sions and contribute to the creation of an environmentally safe and energy-efficient environment for preschool children. The factors of inclusion provide access for people with limited mobility to preschool edu- cational institution. The classification of the placement types of preschool educational institutions, which are placed on difficult terrains, is considered in the paper. Six placement types were identified: flat, terraced, dipped, on construction supports, cantilevered and integrated.Four main methods of formation of the space-planning structure of preschool education institu- tions, placed on a difficult terrain, have been developed, based on the preschool educational institutions formation factors and placement types: 1) Modifications. This technique involves a significant modification of land lots and greatly changes the appearance and geometry of the terrain, includes a lot of excavations, but it does not require the usage of special construction solutions. The following method refers to these types of placement: flat, terraced. 2) Integration. While using this technique, it is assumed that the building of preschool educa- tion institution is maximally integrated into the landscape, which ensures better energy ef- ficiency and environmental friendliness of the object. The usage of this technique involves excavations in combination with more complex construction solutions s than while using the "modification" technique. The following method refers to these types of placement: in- depth, integrated 3) The method of difficult terrain bypassing. It provides for the maximum avoidance of the most difficult sections of the terrain, using the form of plan or construction solutions (plac- ing buildings on construction supports above negative terrain, using cantilever, cable- stayed structures, tunnels, etcetera). Using this technique allows to minimize the amount of excavations, but it requires special construction solutions. The following method refers to these types of placement: cantilever and on construction supports. 4) The method of combination. The method is a combination of the mentioned above methods of forming a space-planning structure to optimize the project, to ensure maximum efficien- cy in the plot of land usage, to select the most economical and effective constructive meth- ods and create a unique architectural and artistic image of a preschool educational institu- tion. The use of territories with difficult a terrain for placing a preschool educational institution, in the context of the South of Ukraine, is possible if nessecary to place a preschool institution in the existing urban planning conditions, in which there are no vacant land lots with a sufficient square, or while creating a new residential area on territories, which have land lots with a difficult terrain. The following types of preschool education institutions have the biggest potential among the other ones for placing on territories with a difficult terrain in context of the south of Ukraine: 1. Preschool education institution with medium and large holding capacity, located on land lots of moderate complexity within the mountainous territories of the Crimean peninsula, on positive, circular landforms with soil stability (hilly areas within the Southern Ukraine). The main formation methods of space-planning structure are - modification and combina- tion. Main types of placing: terraced and flat. 2. Ecological preschool education institutions with small and medium holding capacity, locat- ed on the coastal slopes of water bodies. These institutions have great recreational poten- tial, and harmonically match the surrounding terrain. The main formation method of space- planning structure is – integration. 3. Preschool education institutions with a variety of holding capacities with unique construc- tion decisions. The main formation methods of space-planning structure are – combination and the method of difficult terrain bypassing.The paper includes 2 pictures and 1 table.

<p><strong>Abstract.</strong> Maps and visual representations in general are powerful tools of propaganda and construction of the “other” that perpetrators of genocide employ in different ways and in different contexts and depending on audience, purpose, and stage of genocide. Maps and visual representations are also powerful tools to denounce genocide and are used by the victims to relate, remember, and communicate their experience. These topics will be discussed in the context of the Holocaust and focusing specifically on cartographic design. The role of propaganda, semiotics, the concept of “myth,” and iconography will be briefly discussed to frame the theoretical context of the presentation.</p><p> These topics are part of a broader research agenda on the geographies and cartographies of genocide that I have been engaged in for several years. In particular, I am interested in how cartography, geography and GIScience may contribute to defining, studying, and understanding past genocides, and, hopefully, help preventing future ones. As the majority of my past and current research has been on the Holocaust, the examples discussed in my presentation are relative to that specific genocide. To start with, it is useful to review and define what genocide is and who its perpetrators are.</p><p> Genocide has been defined in various ways. According to the United Nations (1951), genocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such: (a) killing members of the group; (b) causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; (c) deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part; (d) imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group; (e) forcibly transferring children of the group to another group. This definition stresses the physical destruction of the group targeted by direct or indirect methods, such as the prevention of births by members of the group or the forcible transfer of children from the targeted group to another group. Harff and Gurr (1988) highlight the role of the State and the policy dimensions of genocide: "by our definition, genocide… is the promotion and execution of policies by a state or its agents which result in the deaths of a substantial portion of a group.” Katz (1994) remarks the fact that it is the perpetrator that defines who the targeted victims and groups: “...the actualization of the intent, however successfully carried out, to murder in its totality any national, ethnic, racial, religious, political, social, gender or economic group, as these groups are defined by the perpetrator, by whatever means.”</p><p> However defined, genocide is carried out in stages that may vary temporally and geographically, as well as in the methods used to commit it, and this is especially the case when acts of genocide are committed over a long period of time and over a large area, as the Holocaust as well as the Armenian genocide, on which I have also worked, show well. Hampton (1986) has proposed a model of the stages of genocide &amp;ndash; later modified and redefined, by Stanton (2013) and others &amp;ndash; that identifies eight steps, more or less in succession, that include <i>classification</i> (“us vs them”), <i>symbolization</i> (“Jews”, “Germans”, “Tutsi”, swastikas, yellow stars), <i>dehumanization</i> (one group denies the humanity of members of another group and calls them “vermin,” rats,” or “cockroaches”), <i>organization</i> (as a group crime, as opposed to an individual act, genocide needs to be organized, usually by the State), <i>polarization</i> (this is when rhetoric is ramped up, legislation is introduced, extremists emerge, and political moderates are silenced), <i>preparation</i> (victims are forced to wear identifying symbols, lists are made, victims separated from rest of population, for example in ghettos), <i>extermination</i> (words such as “extermination” or “cleansing” are typically used since the victims are explicitly defined as not fully humans by the perpetrators), and <i>denial</i> (this is always present and starts as soon as during and immediately after the extermination stage, and can outlive the perpetrators themselves; denial includes the destruction of evidence, the destruction of the reputation and credibility of the survivors or witnesses, the claim that deaths were due to famine, migration, disease or, as in the Armenian genocide, all of the above plus the effects of WW1, and &amp;ndash; as an ultimate insult &amp;ndash; the blaming of the victims themselves).</p><p> Once genocide is defined and its stages are identified, a third element is crucial to its understanding: why people commit genocide. Doing so is needed to determine what role maps play in genocide from the perspective of both perpetrators and victims. Several models have been proposed to try and explain why seemingly normal individuals engage in genocide, and models have even been proposed to estimate the likelihood of genocide happening in a given society at a certain time. Waller’s model (2005) is perhaps the most influential and, in my opinion, the most convincing. I will discuss Waller’s work in more detail during my presentation; here, let just say that the model identifies “ultimate influences” (human nature) as well as “proximate influences” as the reasons why people commit genocide. Most interesting in the context of my research are the “proximate influences,” which include the cultural construction of worldviews, the psychological construction of the “other,” and the social construction of cruelty. In turn, these “proximate influences” are historicized, i.e., they take different forms in different places at different times depending on the specific context. Thus, the indoctrination of SS members during the Holocaust included collectivistic values, authority orientation, and social dominance (<i>cultural influences</i>); “us vs. them” mentality, moral disengagement, and the blaming of the victims (<i>psychological influences</i>); professional socialization, group identification, and the identification of binding factors for the group (<i>social influences</i>). Maps, and images in general (including posters, paintings, movies and other forms of mass communications), can and do play a role in all of the “proximate stages” in Waller’s model. In my presentation, as an illustration and for brevity, I will show examples of psychological proximate influences, including the construction of the “other,” and in particular I will discuss strategies for the definition, communication, and mass diffusion of an “us vs. them” mentality, the gradual construction and spreading of “moral disengagement” among the perpetrators, and, also among the perpetrators (but also among the bystanders of genocide), the gradual development of a “blaming the victim” mentality to justify active participation, or at least acquiescence, to genocide. In general, to understand the role maps play in this context it is useful to refer to the literature on propaganda and on semiotics, and cartographers have traditionally written about these topics. Perhaps less studied, although not less useful general and specifically in the context of genocide and the definition of the “other,” is an iconographical (or iconological) approach; borrowed from art history, this is an especially complex and difficult technique to apply to the interpretation and study of maps, but a promising one. In my presentation I will touch on semiotics, propaganda, and iconography as well as reference and discuss Roland Barthes and his definition of the concept of “myth,” which I believe play a central role, one that overlaps all “proximate influences” as defined above, to explain how maps and images relate to genocide.</p><p> In the final part of my presentation, I will show examples of the use of maps by perpetrators and victims of genocide. From the perpetrators’ perspective, myth and propaganda work together in the service of the State; crucial to the effectiveness of genocide, propaganda and the creation of myths have to be monopolies of the State or they will not work effectively. Nazi Germany was especially effective and efficient from this point of view, with a body of work that I will introduce that include both images and writings from Nazi leaders and propagandists. Referring back to the stages of genocide discussed above, I will make the case that different cartographic design principles are applied for the first six stages (<i>classification, symbolization, dehumanization, organization, polarization, and preparation</i>) of genocide &amp;ndash; as well as the psychological construction of the “other” &amp;ndash; as opposed to the seventh (<i>extermination</i>) stage. Interestingly, from the point of view of cartographic design, there is a distinct similarity between the maps and images produced by the victims and those produced by the perpetrators, at least as far as the first six stages of genocide are concerned. As I will show in the presentation, this argument is better made via examples, tables, and direct comparisons of design elements, but to briefly summarize my point, depending on their purpose and audience, genocide maps are intended to be alternatively unambiguous or euphemistic, for the masses or for the military and/or political elites, impressionistic or emotional rather than rational and scientific, for public consumption or for private and secret use. In terms of specific elements of design, it is possible to identify the intended audience, purpose, and genocide stage in terms of the use of muted vs. saturated colors, the presence or absence of a legend, the use or not use of graduated symbols and arrows, the scale of the map, how visual contrast is employed to highlight certain elements, the use of black and white, etc.</p><p> As concerns more specifically the seventh stage of genocide &amp;ndash; <i>extermination</i> &amp;ndash; this is when the application of the methods and tools of scientific cartography become the urgent preoccupation of the perpetrators, as many examples from the Nazi archives prove; hence, the search for accuracy and precision in the representation of places, times, and themes, including the insistence on the exactness of measurements, the standardization of design elements, and in general the teaching and application of clear, unambiguous, and replicable designs and methods to make maps. Briefly put, maps produced for the extermination of the victims are characterized as the triumph of denotation and technology, while in the previous six stages connotation and the creation of “myth” are guiding principles by which maps are designed and produced, and their effectiveness is measured.</p><p> In my conclusions, I will remark on the fact that as much as maps (and, by extension and in the present time, GIS) have been used and will continue to be used to commit genocide, they can also be effectively used to counteract and denounce genocide. To do so, one should learn how to exploit propaganda techniques and how to use the theories of semiotics and iconography and the idea of myth to counter-map and resist genocide.</p>

This study aimed to explore the perceived barriers to physical activity among college students Study Design: Qualitative research design Eight focus group discussions on 67 college students aged 18-24 years (48 females, 19 males) was conducted on College premises. Data were analysed using inductive approach. Participants identified a number of obstacles to physical activity. Perceived barriers emerged from the analysis of the data addressed the different dimensions of the socio-ecological framework. The result indicated that the young adults perceived substantial amount of personal, social and environmental factors as barriers such as time constraint, tiredness, stress, family control, safety issues and much more. Understanding the barriers and overcoming the barriers at this stage will be valuable. Health professionals and researchers can use this information to design and implement interventions, strategies and policies to promote the participation in physical activity. This further can help the students to deal with those barriers and can help to instil the habit of regular physical activity in the later adult years.

Theory and research on intergenerational relations emphasize the salient role that mothers and their adult children play in one another’s lives. However, little is known about how mothers’ health may shape mother–child relationship quality in later-life. We utilized data from the Within Family Differences Study to explore how mothers’ functional limitations affect multiple dimensions of mother–child relationship quality, as reported by mothers and their offspring, with particular emphasis on whether race, child’s gender, or generational position moderated these associations. Although mothers’ reports of relationship quality were not predicted by their functional limitations, adult children reported higher ambivalence when they perceived their mothers had limitations. Further, adult children in White families reported higher ambivalence when mothers had limitations than did those in Black families. This study highlights the importance of considering the roles of structural factors in shaping the conditions under which health limitations affect mother–child ties.

This study was undertaken to determine the extent and nature of depressive symptoms exhibited by black South African children during hospitalisation for orthopaedic procedures. Social factors associated with the risk for depression, in response to hospitalisation, were also examined. Pre- and post-test assessments were conducted on a sample of 30 children aged between 6 and 12 years. The assessment entailed a structured interview, together with the following psychometric instruments: A Global Mood Scale, a Depressive Symptoms Checklist, a Hospital Fears Rating Scale and a Self Report Depression Rating Scale. A large proportion of the children were rated by ward sisters as showing high levels of depressive symptomatology two weeks after admission to hospital. As expected, discrepancies were found between adult and child self-ratings of depression. The results of this study indicate that hospitalisation for orthopaedic child patients is associated with the development of depressive symptomatology. It is suggested that emphasis be placed on the development of supportive programmes and procedures aimed at maximising children's coping responses to hospitalisation, particularly for children who find themselves Isolated from their communities and families, as a result of both centralised health services and poor socio-economic conditions.

Objective: Technology-dependent children with medical complexity (CMC) are frequently admitted to the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU). The social risk factors for high PICU utilization in these children are not well described. The objective of this study was to describe the relationship between race, ethnicity, insurance status, estimated household income, and PICU admission following the placement of a tracheostomy and/or gastrostomy (GT) in CMC.Study Design: This was a retrospective multicenter study of children &lt;19 years requiring tracheostomy and/or GT placement discharged from a hospital contributing to the Pediatric Health Information System (PHIS) database between January 2016 and March 2019. Primary predictors included estimated household income, insurance status, and race/ethnicity. Additional predictor variables collected included patient age, sex, number of chronic complex conditions (CCC), history of prematurity, and discharge disposition following index hospitalization. The primary outcome was need for PICU readmission within 30 days of hospital discharge. Secondary outcomes included repeated PICU admissions and total hospital costs within 1 year of tracheostomy and/or GT placement.Results: Patients requiring a PICU readmission within 30 days of index hospitalization for tracheostomy or GT placement accounted for 6% of the 20,085 included subjects. In multivariate analyses, public insurance [OR 1.28 (95% C.I. 1.12–1.47), p &lt; 0.001] was associated with PICU readmission within 30 days of hospital discharge while living below the federal poverty threshold (FPT) was associated with a lower odds of 30-day PICU readmission [OR 0.7 (95% C.I. 0.51–0.95), p = 0.0267]. Over 20% (n = 4,197) of children required multiple (&gt;1) PICU admissions within one year from index hospitalization. In multivariate analysis, Black children [OR 1.20 (95% C.I. 1.10–1.32), p &lt; 0.001] and those with public insurance [OR 1.34 (95% C.I. 1.24–1.46), p &lt; 0.001] had higher odds of multiple PICU admissions. Social risk factors were not associated with total hospital costs accrued within 1 year of tracheostomy and/or GT placement.Conclusions: In a multicenter cohort study, Black children and those with public insurance had higher PICU utilization following tracheostomy and/or GT placement. Future research should target improving healthcare outcomes in these high-risk populations.

Socio-political conflicts in the Great Lakes Region of Africa have caused an upsurge in the refugees who flee to other regions of the world for safety. Consequently, refugee camps have become common contexts of child growth and development owing to the forced movements of people from their original homes and countries into foreign and unfamiliar ecologies. This article reports part of the findings of a larger exploratory sequential study that explored the nature and quality of refugee immigrant caregivers’ childrearing practices at Tongogara Refugee Camp (TRC) in Zimbabwe. This study reports the resilience in childrearing among selected refugee immigrant caregivers resident at Tongogara Refugee Camp in Zimbabwe between 2013 and 2016. Eighteen (18) refugee mothers and thirteen (13) elders purposively sampled among refugees from DRC, Burundi and Rwanda participated in a qualitative study that used focus group discussions and key informant interviews to collect data. The main finding of the study was that under forced migration conditions, refugee immigrant caregivers become resilient and continue to raise their children despite their traumatic profiles and circumstances. Their resilience emerges from the possession of cultural psychological resources that protect them from traumatic profiles interfering with their child rearing. In addition, it was evident that reconstructed family networks, support from refugee elders as vicars of culture and resistance to psychosocial risk were other mediating factors. The study concluded that psychological cultural templates and reconstructed social networks are strong protective factors for the resilience of refugee caregivers. The key implication for the study is that social actors delivering services in refugee camps should integrate relevant cultural heritage issues in their programmes because they act as protective factors for traumatic experiences that may interfere with child rearing. Sensitive child development programmes are not complete when they exclude children’s socio-cultural context as an important variable.

Aim/Purpose: This article aims at exploring how systemic racism predisposes Canadian Blacks to COVID 19 infection, thereby raising the question as to whether Black Live Matters amid the COVID-19 pandemic. Background: Although many discourses about Blacks' vulnerability abound in the public media and academic literature, their vulnerabilities seem to have been overlooked amid the current COVID-19 global health crisis. Since COVID-19 was detected public health authorities deem older people, children, Indigenous people, and low-income Canadian families and those with weakened immune systems from underlying medical conditions as vulnerable to the pandemic. One group of people conspicuously missing from the vulnerable groups’ list is Black people. Drawing on evidence-based data from secondary sources, the article demonstrates that the gravities of the COVID-19 pandemic are deepening racial inequalities in Canada. The article also illustrates how many Black people and other racialized groups are at increased risk of COVID 19 infections and deaths due to a longstanding health inequality. Methodology: This study relies on evidence-based data drawn from various secondary sources, including academic papers, policy briefs, government reports, credible media sources, press notes and advisories, current newspapers, and online media reportage of the unfolding health crisis about COVID-19 to demonstrate that the gravities of the COVID-19 pandemic are deepening racial inequalities in Canada. Although research that articulates existing studies on Black people and the COVID-19 pandemic is very scanty, this paper is mostly exploratory as it emphasizes synthesizing secondary sources of literature review. Findings: The study finds that many Black people and other racialized groups are at increased risk of COVID 19 infections and deaths due to a longstanding health inequality. Further, the paper demonstrates that, historically, social determinants of health have prevented Black people from equal access to economic, social and healthcare opportunities. And thus, have exposed a longstanding systemic racism in employment, housing, education, and healthcare. Finally, the paper recommends two innovative strategies to achieve social transformation: 1) Black Canadians should shift from vulnerability to recognizing their vitalities/resiliencies and 2) building allyships with other oppressed groups to stop the spread of the two pandemics: anti-black racism and COVID-19. Impact on Society: This paper does not only contribute to our knowledge about the challenges Black people experience during the pandemic, but also enhances our understanding about the innovative strategy to defeat anti-black racism. This strategy implies that the time has come for Black Canadians to move beyond their vulnerabilities to discover their vitality and agency – moving from the discourse of victim hood to resilience, agency, vitality and creativity

Parents of children diagnosed with complex chronic conditions (CCCs) face many challenges with managing their child's health. As parents are tasked with competing demands and the constant changes required to provide the best care possible for their child, talk about contradictions regarding their dual, and oftentimes competing, roles and responsibilities as both parent and caregiver is likely to occur. Using relational dialectics theory (Baxter, 2011) as a framework, we conducted a contrapuntal analysis to analyze 35 White, mostly Christian parents’ narratives about their experiences managing their child’s healthcare. Two primary discourses emerged: the centripetal discourse of normal health and the centrifugal discourse of difference. The interplay between these two primary discourses led to a hybrid discourse: difference is our new normal. Within this discourse, parents discussed previous speech encounters where they relied upon the co-construction of a new normal with others who were living or willing to live in their new reality. Our findings emphasize how an assessment of parents’ talk conveys their discourse-dependence with navigating the inevitable uncertainties associated with managing their child’s CCC. In addition, we discuss how parents co-construct their new normal in the face of unique family functioning that is structurally different from societal expectations and social norms about parenting and pediatric health care management.

<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:PunctuationKerning /> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas /> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables /> <w:SnapToGridInCell /> <w:WrapTextWithPunct /> <w:UseAsianBreakRules /> <w:DontGrowAutofit /> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id=ieooui></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language:HE;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: Arial; color: black;">The UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, from 1989, and the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, from 2007, define a vision in which party States ensure the welfare of children with disabilities and their right to enjoy a full and respected life in the community, with their families, in conditions which meet their basic needs and ensure their ability to actualize their potential, enjoy basic liberty, freedom of expression, active and inclusive participation in the community life, based on equal opportunities. Approximately 8.7% of the children in Israel cope with functional challenges, disabilities or chronic diseases requiring constant intervention through medical or non medical care. The aim of the current article is to outline the international vision defined by the Conventions and the situation in Israel regarding the rights of children with disabilities to life, life with family in the community, education, health and accessibility – as legislated and as actually implemented. The article shows that Israel is committed to the international conventions and has invested much in legislation, budget and services for ensuring the social rights of children with disabilities in all areas of life. However Israel still faces the challenges of carrying out the paradigm shift towards the human rights model of disability in practice, by ensuring equal opportunities; by abolishing the poverty and discrimination of the geographical and social periphery; and by implementing inclusive education and accessible public areas and services to all.</span>

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]).

In the heady expansion of capital’s productive capacity during the post-war period, E.P. Thompson wondered optimistically at potentials accruing to humanity by accelerating automation. He asked, “If we are to have enlarged leisure, in an automated future, the problem is not ‘how are men going to be able to consume all these additional time-units of leisure?’ but ‘what will be the capacity for experience of the men who have this undirected time to live?’” (Thompson 36). Indeed, linear and economistic variants of Marxian materialism have long emphasised that the socialisation of production by the use of machinery will eventually free us from work. At the very least, the underemployment produced by the automation of pivotal labour roles is supposed to create a political subject capable of agitating successfully against bourgeois and capitalist hegemony. But contrary to these prognostications, the worker of 2019 is caught up in a process of generalising work far beyond what is considered necessary by tradition, or at least the convention of what David Harvey calls “embedded liberalism” (11). As Anne Helen Peterson wrote in a recent Buzzfeed article,even the trends millennials have popularized — like athleisure — speak to our self-optimization. Yoga pants might look sloppy to your mom, but they’re efficient: you can transition seamlessly from an exercise class to a Skype meeting to child pickup. We use Fresh Direct and Amazon because the time they save allows us to do more work. (Peterson)For the work-martyr, activity in its broadest Aristotelian sense is evaluated by and subordinated to the question of efficiency and productivity. Occupations of time that were once considered external to “work” as matters of “life” (to use Kathi Weeks’s vocabulary) are reconceived as waste when not deployed in the service of value-generation (Weeks 15).The point here, then, is to provide some answers for why the decrease in socially-necessary labour time in an age of automation has not coincided with the Thompsonian expansion of free time. The current dilemma of the neoliberal “work-martyr” is traceable to the political responses generated by crises in production during the depression and the stagflationary disaccumulation of the 1960s-70s, and the major victory in the “battle for ideas” was the transformation of the political subject into human capital. This “intensely constructed and governed” suite of possible values is tasked, according to Wendy Brown, “with improving and leveraging its competitive positioning and with enhancing its (monetary and nonmonetary) portfolio value across all of its endeavours and ventures” (Brown 10). Connecting the creation of this subject in relation to personal or free time is important partly because of time’s longstanding importance to philosophies of subjectivity. But more to the point, the focus on time is important because it serves to demonstrate the economic foundations of the incursion of capitalist governance into the most private domains of existence. Against the criticism of Marx’s ‘abstract’ theory of value, one can see that the laws of capitalist accumulation make their mark in all parts of contemporary human being, including temporality. By tracing the emergence of afterwork as the unpaid continuation of the accumulation of value, one can show how each subject increasingly ‘lives’ capital. This marks a turning point in political economy. When work spills over a temporal limit, its relationship to reproduction is finally blurred to the point of indistinction. What this means for value-creation in 2019 is something in urgent need of critique.State ReproductionAccording to the Marxian theory, labour’s minimum cost is abstractly determined by the price of the labourer’s necessities. Once they have produced enough objects of value to cover these costs, the rest of their work is surplus value in the hands of the capitalist. The capitalist’s aim, then, is to extend the overall working-day for as long beyond the minimum as possible. Theoretically, the full 24 hours of the day may be used. The rise of machine production in the 19th century allowed the owners to make this theory a reality. The only thing that governed the extension of work-time was the physical minimum of labour-power’s reproduction (Marx 161). But this was on the provision that all the labourer’s “free” time was to be spent regrouping their energies. Anything in excess of this was a privilege: time wasted that could have been spent in the factory. “If the labourer consumes his disposable time for himself”, says Marx, “he robs the capitalist” (162).This began to change with the socialisation of the work process and the increase in technical proficiency that labour demanded in early 20th-century industry. With the changes in the sophistication of the manufacture process, the labourer came to be factored in the production process less as an “appendage of the machine” and more as a collection of decisive skills. Fordism based itself around the recognition that capital itself was “dependent on a family-based reproduction” (Weeks 27). In Ford’s America, the sense that work’s intensity might supplant losses in the working day propelled owners of production to recognise the economic need of ensuring a robust culture of social reproduction. In capital’s original New Deal, Ford provided an increase in wages (the Five Dollar Day) in exchange for a rise in productivity (Dalla Costa v). To preserve the increased rhythm of industrial production required more than a robust wage, however. It required “the formation of a physically efficient and psychologically disciplined working class” (Dalla Costa 2). Companies began to hire sociologists to investigate how workers spent their spare time (Dalla Costa 8). They led the charge in a what we might call the first “anthropological revolution” of the American 20th century, whereby the improved wage of the worker was underpinned by the economisation of their reproduction. This was enabled by the cheapening of social necessities (and thus a reduction in socially-necessary labour time) in profound connection to the development of household economy on the backs of unpaid female labour (Weeks 25).This arrangement between capital and labour persisted until 1929. When the inevitable crisis came, however, wages faltered, and many workers joined the ranks of the unemployed. Unable to afford even the basics of their own reproduction, the working-class looked to the state. They created political and social pressure through marches, demonstrations, attacks on shops and the looting of supply trucks (Dalla Costa 40). The state held out against them, but the crisis in production eventually reached such a point of intensity that the government was forced to intervene. Hoover instituted the Emergency Relief Act and Financial Reconstruction Corporation in 1932. This was expanded the following year by FDR’s New Deal, transforming Emergency Relief into a federal institution and creating the Civil Works Association to stimulate the job market (Dalla Costa 63). The security of the working class was decisively linked to the state through the wage guarantees, welfare measures and even the legal guarantee of collective bargaining.For the most part, the state’s intervention in social reproduction took the pressure off industry by ensuring that the workforce would remain able to handle its burdens and that the unemployed would remain employable. It guaranteed a minimum wage for the employed to ensure that demand didn’t collapse, and provided care outside the workforce to women, children and the elderly.Once the state took responsibility for reproduction, however, it immediately became interested in how free time could be made efficient and cost effective. Abroad, they noted the example of European statist and corporativist approaches. Roosevelt sent a delegation to Europe to study the various measures taken by fascist and United Front governments to curb the effects of economic crisis (Dogliani 247). Among these was Mussolini’s OND (Opera Nazionale Dopolavoro) which sought to accumulate the free time of workers to the ends of production. Part of this required the responsibilisation of the broader community not only for regeneration of labour-power but the formation of a truly fascist political subject.FDR’s social reform program was able to reproduce this at home by following the example of workers’ community organisation during the depression years. Throughout the early ‘30s, self-help cooperatives, complete with “their own systems of payment in goods or currency” emerged among the unemployed (Dalla Costa 61). Black markets in consumer goods and informal labour structures developed in all major cities (Dalla Costa 34). Subsistence goods were self-produced in a cottage industry of unpaid domestic labour by both men and women (Dalla Costa 71). The paragon of self-reproducing communities was urbanised black Americans, whose internal solidarity had saved lives throughout the depression. The state took notice of these informal economies of production and reproduction, and started to incorporate the possibility of community engineering into their national plan. Roosevelt convened the Civilian Conservation Corps to absorb underemployed elements of the American workforce and recover consumer demand through direct state sponsorship (wages) (Dogliani, 247). The Committee of Industrial Organisation was transformed into a “congress” linking workers directly to the state (Dalla Costa 74). Minium wages were secured in the supreme court in 1937, then hiked in 1938 (78). In all, the state emerged at this time as a truly corporativist entity- the guarantor of employment and of class stability. From Social Reproduction to Human Capital InvestmentSo how do we get from New Deal social engineering to yoga pants? The answer is deceptively simple. The state transformed social reproduction into a necessary part of the production process. But this also meant that it was instrumentalised. The state only had to fund its workforce’s reproduction so long as this guaranteed productivity. After the war, this was maintained by a form of “embedded liberalism” which sought to provide full employment, economic growth and welfare for its citizens while anchoring the international economy in the Dollar’s gold-value. However, by providing stable increases in “relative value” (wages), this form of state investment incentivised capital flight and its spectacular consequent: deindustrialisation. The “embedded liberalism” of the state-capital-labour compromise began to breakdown with a new crisis of accumulation (Harvey 11-12). The relocation of production to non-union states and decolonised globally-southern sites of hyper-exploitation led to an ‘urban crisis’ in the job market. But as capitalist expansion carried on abroad, inflation kept dangerous pace with the rate of unemployment. This “stagflation” put irresistible pressure on the post-war order. The Bretton-Woods policy of maintaining fixed interest rates while pinning the dollar to gold was abandoned in 1971 and exchange rates were floated all over the world (Harvey 12). The spectre of a new crisis loomed, but one which couldn’t be resolved by the simple state sponsorship of production and reproduction.While many solutions were offered in place of this, one political vision singled out the state’s intervention into reproduction as the cause of the crisis. The ‘neoliberal’ political revolution began at the level of individual groups of capitalist agitants seeking governmental influence in a crusade against communism. It was given its first run on the historical pitch in Chile as part of the CIA-sponsored Pinochet revanchism, and then imported to NYC to deal with the worsening urban crisis of the 1970s. Instead of focusing on production (which required state intervention to proceed without crisis), neoliberal theory promulgated a turn to monetisation and financialisation. The rule of the New York banks after they forced the City into near-bankruptcy in 1975 prescribed total austerity in order to make good on its debts. The government was forced by capital itself to withdraw from investment in the reproduction of its citizens and workers. This was generalised to a federal policy as Reagan sought to address the decades-long deficit during the early years of his presidential term. Facilitating the global flow of finance and the hegemony of supranational institutions like the IMF, the domestic labour force now became beholden to an international minimum of socially-necessary labour time. At the level of domestic labour, the reduction of labour’s possible cost to this minimum had dramatic consequences. International competition allowed the physical limitations of labour to, once again, vanish from sight. Removed from the discourse of reproduction rights, the capitalist edifice was able to focus on changing the ratio of socially necessary labour to surplus. The mechanism that enabled them to do so was competition among the workforce. With the opening of the world market, capital no longer had to worry about the maintenance of domestic demand.But competition was not sufficient to pull off so grand a feat. What was required was a broader “battle of ideas”; the second anthropological revolution of the American century. The protections that workers had relied upon since the Fordist compromise and the corporativist solution eroded as the new “class-power” of the bourgeoisie levelled neoliberal assaults against associated labour (Harvey 23). While unions were gradually disempowered to fight the inevitable tide of deindustrialisation and capital flight, individual workers were coddled by a stream of neoliberal propaganda promising “Freedom” to those who would leave the stifling atmosphere of collective association. The success of this double enervation crippled union power, and the capitalist could rely increasingly on internal workplace wage stratification to regulate labour at an enterprise level (Dalla Costa 25). Incentive structures transformed labour rights into privileges; imagining old entitlements as concessions from above. In the last thirty years, the foundation of worker protections at large has, according to Brown, become illegible (Brown 38).Time and ValueThe reduction of time needed to produce has not coincided with an expansion of free time. The neoliberal anthropological revolution has wormed its way into the depth of the individual subject’s temporalising through a dual assault on labour conditions and propaganda. The privatisation of reproduction means that its necessary minimum is once again the subject of class struggle. Time spent unproductively outside the workplace now not only robs the capitalist, but the worker. If an activity isn’t a means to increase one’s “experience” (the vector of employability), it is time poorly spent. The likelihood of being hired for a job, in professional industries especially, is dependent on your ability to outperform others not only in your talents and skills, but in your own exploitability. Brown points out that the groups traditionally defined by the “middle strata … works more hours for less pay, fewer benefits, less security, and less promise of retirement or upward mobility than at any time in the past century” (Brown 28-29).This is what is meant by the transformation of workers into ‘human capital’. As far as the worker is concerned, the capitalist no longer purchases their labour-power: they purchase the sum of their experiences and behaviours. A competitive market has emerged for these personality markers. As a piece of human capital, one must expend one’s time not only in reproduction, but the production of their own surplus value. Going to a play adds culture points to your brand; speaking a second language gives you a competitive edge; a robust Instagram following is the difference between getting or missing out on a job. For Jess Whyte, this means that the market is now able to govern in place of the state. It exercises a command over people’s lives in and out of the workplace “which many an old tyrannical state would have envied” (Whyte 20).There is a question here of change and continuity. A survey of the 20th century shows that the reduction of ‘socially necessary labour time’ does not necessarily mean a reduction in time spent at work. In fact, the minimum around which capitalist production circulates is not worktime but wages. It is only at the political level that the working class prevented capital from pursuing this minimum. With the political victory of neoliberalism as a “restoration of class power” to the bourgeoisie, however, this minimum becomes a factor at the heart of all negotiations between capital and labour. The individual labourer lying at the heart of the productive process is reduced to his most naked form: human capital. This capital must spend all its time productively for its own benefit. Mundane tasks are avoidable, as stipulated by the piece of human capital sometimes known as Anne Helen Peterson, if they “wouldn’t make my job easier or my work better”. People are never really after-work under neoliberalism; their spare time is structurally adjusted into auxiliary labour. Competition has achieved what the state could never have dreamed of: a total governance of spare hours. This governance unites journalists tweeting from bed with Amazon workers living where they work, not to mention early-career academics working over a weekend to publish an article in an online journal that is not even paying them. These are all ways in which the privatisation of social reproduction transforms afterwork into unpaid overtime.ReferencesBrown, Wendy. Undoing the Demos: Neoliberalism’s Stealth Revolution. New York: Zone Books, 2015.Dalla Costa, Maria. Family, Welfare, and the State: Between Progressivism and the New Deal. Brooklyn: Common Notions, 2015.Harvey, David. A Brief History of Neoliberalism. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2005.Engels, Friedrich, and Karl Marx. The Marx-Engels Reader. Ed. R.C. Tucker. New York: Norton, 1978.Marx, Karl. Capital: A Critical Analysis of Capitalist Production. Vol. 1 and 2. Trans. E. Aveling and E. Untermann. Hertfordshire: Wordsworth Classics of World Literature, 2013.Peterson, Anne Helen. “How Millennials Became the Burnout Generation.” Buzzfeed. 10 Oct. 2019 <https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/annehelenpetersen/millennials-burnout-generation-debt-work>.Postone, Moishe. Time, Labour and Social Domination. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1993.Thompson, E.P. “Time, Work-Discipline, and Industrial Capitalism.” In Stanley Aronowitz and Michael J. Roberts, eds., Class: The Anthology. Hoboken: Wiley, 2018.Wang, Jackie. Carceral Capitalism. Los Angeles: Semiotext(e), 2018.Weeks, Kathi. The Problem with Work: Feminism, Marxism, Antiwork Politics, and Postwork Imaginaries. Durham: Duke UP, 2011.Whyte, Jessica. “The Invisible Hand of Friedrich Hayek: Submission and Spontaneous Order.” Political Theory (2017): 1-29.

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 This paper offers a survey of familiar popular music performers and songwriters who reference coffee in their work. It examines three areas of discourse: the psychoactive effects of caffeine, coffee and courtship rituals, and the politics of coffee consumption. I claim that coffee carries a cultural and musicological significance comparable to that of the chemical stimulants and consumer goods more readily associated with popular music. Songs about coffee may not be as potent as those featuring drugs and alcohol (Primack; Schapiro), or as common as those referencing commodities like clothes and cars (Englis; McCracken), but they do feature across a wide range of genres, some of which enjoy archetypal associations with this beverage. m.o.m.m.y. Needs c.o.f.f.e.e.: The Psychoactive Effect of Coffee The act of performing and listening to popular music involves psychological elements comparable to the overwhelming sensory experience of drug taking: altered perceptions, repetitive grooves, improvisation, self-expression, and psychological empathy—such as that between musician and audience (Curry). Most popular music genres are, as a result, culturally and sociologically identified with the consumption of at least one mind-altering substance (Lyttle; Primack; Schapiro). While the analysis of lyrics referring to this theme has hitherto focused on illegal drugs and alcoholic beverages (Cooper), coffee and its psychoactive ingredient caffeine have been almost entirely overlooked (Summer). The most recent study of drugs in popular music, for example, defined substance use as “tobacco, alcohol, marijuana, cocaine and other stimulants, heroin and other opiates, hallucinogens, inhalants, prescription drugs, over-the-counter drugs, and nonspecific substances” (Primack 172), thereby ignoring a chemical stimulant consumed by 90 per cent of adult Americans every day (Lovett). The wide availability of coffee and the comparatively mild effect of caffeine means that its consumption rarely causes harm. One researcher has described it as a ubiquitous and unobtrusive “generalised public activity […] ‘invisible’ to analysts seeking distinctive social events” (Cooper 92). Coffee may provide only a relatively mild “buzz”—but it is now accepted that caffeine is an addictive substance (Juliano) and, due to its universal legality, coffee is also the world’s most extensively traded and enthusiastically consumed psychoactive consumer product (Juliano 1). The musical genre of jazz has a longstanding relationship with marijuana and narcotics (Curry; Singer; Tolson; Winick). Unsurprisingly, given its Round Midnight connotations, jazz standards also celebrate the restorative impact of coffee. Exemplary compositions include Burke/Webster’s insomniac torch song Black Coffee, which provided hits for Sarah Vaughan (1949), Ella Fitzgerald (1953), and Peggy Lee (1960); and Frank Sinatra’s recordings of Hilliard/Dick’s The Coffee Song (1946, 1960), which satirised the coffee surplus in Brazil at a time when this nation enjoyed a near monopoly on production. Sinatra joked that this ubiquitous drink was that country’s only means of liquid refreshment, in a refrain that has since become a headline writer’s phrasal template: “There’s an Awful Lot of Coffee in Vietnam,” “An Awful Lot of Coffee in the Bin,” and “There’s an Awful Lot of Taxes in Brazil.” Ethnographer Aaron Fox has shown how country music gives expression to the lived social experience of blue-collar and agrarian workers (Real 29). Coffee’s role in energising working class America (Cooper) is featured in such recordings as Dolly Parton’s Nine To Five (1980), which describes her morning routine using a memorable “kitchen/cup of ambition” rhyme, and Don't Forget the Coffee Billy Joe (1973) by Tom T. Hall which laments the hardship of unemployment, hunger, cold, and lack of healthcare. Country music’s “tired truck driver” is the most enduring blue-collar trope celebrating coffee’s analeptic powers. Versions include Truck Drivin' Man by Buck Owens (1964), host of the country TV show Hee Haw and pioneer of the Bakersfield sound, and Driving My Life Away from pop-country crossover star Eddie Rabbitt (1980). Both feature characteristically gendered stereotypes of male truck drivers pushing on through the night with the help of a truck stop waitress who has fuelled them with caffeine. Johnny Cash’s A Cup of Coffee (1966), recorded at the nadir of his addiction to pills and alcohol, has an incoherent improvised lyric on this subject; while Jerry Reed even prescribed amphetamines to keep drivers awake in Caffein [sic], Nicotine, Benzedrine (And Wish Me Luck) (1980). Doye O’Dell’s Diesel Smoke, Dangerous Curves (1952) is the archetypal “truck drivin’ country” song and the most exciting track of its type. It subsequently became a hit for the doyen of the subgenre, Red Simpson (1966). An exhausted driver, having spent the night with a woman whose name he cannot now recall, is fighting fatigue and wrestling his hot-rod low-loader around hairpin mountain curves in an attempt to rendezvous with a pretty truck stop waitress. The song’s palpable energy comes from its frenetic guitar picking and the danger implicit in trailing a heavy load downhill while falling asleep at the wheel. Tommy Faile’s Phantom 309, a hit for Red Sovine (1967) that was later covered by Tom Waits (Big Joe and the Phantom 309, 1975), elevates the “tired truck driver” narrative to gothic literary form. Reflecting country music’s moral code of citizenship and its culture of performative storytelling (Fox, Real 23), it tells of a drenched and exhausted young hitchhiker picked up by Big Joe—the driver of a handsome eighteen-wheeler. On arriving at a truck stop, Joe drops the traveller off, giving him money for a restorative coffee. The diner falls silent as the hitchhiker orders up his “cup of mud”. Big Joe, it transpires, is a phantom trucker. After running off the road to avoid a school bus, his distinctive ghost rig now only reappears to rescue stranded travellers. Punk rock, a genre closely associated with recreational amphetamines (McNeil 76, 87), also features a number of caffeine-as-stimulant songs. Californian punk band, Descendents, identified caffeine as their drug of choice in two 1996 releases, Coffee Mug and Kids on Coffee. These songs describe chugging the drink with much the same relish and energy that others might pull at the neck of a beer bottle, and vividly compare the effects of the drug to the intense rush of speed. The host of “New Music News” (a segment of MTV’s 120 Minutes) references this correlation in 1986 while introducing the band’s video—in which they literally bounce off the walls: “You know, while everybody is cracking down on crack, what about that most respectable of toxic substances or stimulants, the good old cup of coffee? That is the preferred high, actually, of California’s own Descendents—it is also the subject of their brand new video” (“New Music News”). Descendents’s Sessions EP (1997) featured an overflowing cup of coffee on the sleeve, while punk’s caffeine-as-amphetamine trope is also promulgated by Hellbender (Caffeinated 1996), Lagwagon (Mr. Coffee 1997), and Regatta 69 (Addicted to Coffee 2005). Coffee in the Morning and Kisses in the Night: Coffee and Courtship Coffee as romantic metaphor in song corroborates the findings of early researchers who examined courtship rituals in popular music. Donald Horton’s 1957 study found that hit songs codified the socially constructed self-image and limited life expectations of young people during the 1950s by depicting conservative, idealised, and traditional relationship scenarios. He summarised these as initial courtship, honeymoon period, uncertainty, and parting (570-4). Eleven years after this landmark analysis, James Carey replicated Horton’s method. His results revealed that pop lyrics had become more realistic and less bound by convention during the 1960s. They incorporated a wider variety of discourse including the temporariness of romantic commitment, the importance of individual autonomy in relationships, more liberal attitudes, and increasingly unconventional courtship behaviours (725). Socially conservative coffee songs include Coffee in the Morning and Kisses in the Night by The Boswell Sisters (1933) in which the protagonist swears fidelity to her partner on condition that this desire is expressed strictly in the appropriate social context of marriage. It encapsulates the restrictions Horton identified on courtship discourse in popular song prior to the arrival of rock and roll. The Henderson/DeSylva/Brown composition You're the Cream in My Coffee, recorded by Annette Hanshaw (1928) and by Nat King Cole (1946), also celebrates the social ideal of monogamous devotion. The persistence of such idealised traditional themes continued into the 1960s. American pop singer Don Cherry had a hit with Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye (1962) that used coffee as a metaphor for undying and everlasting love. Otis Redding’s version of Butler/Thomas/Walker’s Cigarettes and Coffee (1966)—arguably soul music’s exemplary romantic coffee song—carries a similar message as a couple proclaim their devotion in a late night conversation over coffee. Like much of the Stax catalogue, Cigarettes and Coffee, has a distinctly “down home” feel and timbre. The lovers are simply content with each other; they don’t need “cream” or “sugar.” Horton found 1950s blues and R&B lyrics much more sexually explicit than pop songs (567). Dawson (1994) subsequently characterised black popular music as a distinct public sphere, and Squires (2002) argued that it displayed elements of what she defined as “enclave” and “counterpublic” traits. Lawson (2010) has argued that marginalised and/or subversive blues artists offered a form of countercultural resistance against prevailing social norms. Indeed, several blues and R&B coffee songs disregard established courtship ideals and associate the product with non-normative and even transgressive relationship circumstances—including infidelity, divorce, and domestic violence. Lightnin’ Hopkins’s Coffee Blues (1950) references child neglect and spousal abuse, while the narrative of Muddy Waters’s scorching Iodine in my Coffee (1952) tells of an attempted poisoning by his Waters’s partner. In 40 Cups of Coffee (1953) Ella Mae Morse is waiting for her husband to return home, fuelling her anger and anxiety with caffeine. This song does eventually comply with traditional courtship ideals: when her lover eventually returns home at five in the morning, he is greeted with a relieved kiss. In Keep That Coffee Hot (1955), Scatman Crothers supplies a counterpoint to Morse’s late-night-abandonment narrative, asking his partner to keep his favourite drink warm during his adulterous absence. Brook Benton’s Another Cup of Coffee (1964) expresses acute feelings of regret and loneliness after a failed relationship. More obliquely, in Coffee Blues (1966) Mississippi John Hurt sings affectionately about his favourite brand, a “lovin’ spoonful” of Maxwell House. In this, he bequeathed the moniker of folk-rock band The Lovin’ Spoonful, whose hits included Do You Believe in Magic (1965) and Summer in the City (1966). However, an alternative reading of Hurt’s lyric suggests that this particular phrase is a metaphorical device proclaiming the author’s sexual potency. Hurt’s “lovin’ spoonful” may actually be a portion of his seminal emission. In the 1950s, Horton identified country as particularly “doleful” (570), and coffee provides a common metaphor for failed romance in a genre dominated by “metanarratives of loss and desire” (Fox, Jukebox 54). Claude Gray’s I'll Have Another Cup of Coffee (Then I’ll Go) (1961) tells of a protagonist delivering child support payments according to his divorce lawyer’s instructions. The couple share late night coffee as their children sleep through the conversation. This song was subsequently recorded by seventeen-year-old Bob Marley (One Cup of Coffee, 1962) under the pseudonym Bobby Martell, a decade prior to his breakthrough as an international reggae star. Marley’s youngest son Damian has also performed the track while, interestingly in the context of this discussion, his older sibling Rohan co-founded Marley Coffee, an organic farm in the Jamaican Blue Mountains. Following Carey’s demonstration of mainstream pop’s increasingly realistic depiction of courtship behaviours during the 1960s, songwriters continued to draw on coffee as a metaphor for failed romance. In Carly Simon’s You’re So Vain (1972), she dreams of clouds in her coffee while contemplating an ostentatious ex-lover. Squeeze’s Black Coffee In Bed (1982) uses a coffee stain metaphor to describe the end of what appears to be yet another dead-end relationship for the protagonist. Sarah Harmer’s Coffee Stain (1998) expands on this device by reworking the familiar “lipstick on your collar” trope, while Sexsmith & Kerr’s duet Raindrops in my Coffee (2005) superimposes teardrops in coffee and raindrops on the pavement with compelling effect. Kate Bush’s Coffee Homeground (1978) provides the most extreme narrative of relationship breakdown: the true story of Cora Henrietta Crippin’s poisoning. Researchers who replicated Horton’s and Carey’s methodology in the late 1970s (Bridges; Denisoff) were surprised to find their results dominated by traditional courtship ideals. The new liberal values unearthed by Carey in the late 1960s simply failed to materialise in subsequent decades. In this context, it is interesting to observe how romantic coffee songs in contemporary soul and jazz continue to disavow the post-1960s trend towards realistic social narratives, adopting instead a conspicuously consumerist outlook accompanied by smooth musical timbres. This phenomenon possibly betrays the influence of contemporary coffee advertising. From the 1980s, television commercials have sought to establish coffee as a desirable high end product, enjoyed by bohemian lovers in a conspicuously up-market environment (Werder). All Saints’s Black Coffee (2000) and Lebrado’s Coffee (2006) identify strongly with the culture industry’s image of coffee as a luxurious beverage whose consumption signifies prominent social status. All Saints’s promotional video is set in a opulent location (although its visuals emphasise the lyric’s romantic disharmony), while Natalie Cole’s Coffee Time (2008) might have been itself written as a commercial. Busting Up a Starbucks: The Politics of Coffee Politics and coffee meet most palpably at the coffee shop. This conjunction has a well-documented history beginning with the establishment of coffee houses in Europe and the birth of the public sphere (Habermas; Love; Pincus). The first popular songs to reference coffee shops include Jaybird Coleman’s Coffee Grinder Blues (1930), which boasts of skills that precede the contemporary notion of a barista by four decades; and Let's Have Another Cup of Coffee (1932) from Irving Berlin’s depression-era musical Face The Music, where the protagonists decide to stay in a restaurant drinking coffee and eating pie until the economy improves. Coffee in a Cardboard Cup (1971) from the Broadway musical 70 Girls 70 is an unambiguous condemnation of consumerism, however, it was written, recorded and produced a generation before Starbucks’ aggressive expansion and rapid dominance of the coffee house market during the 1990s. The growth of this company caused significant criticism and protest against what seemed to be a ruthless homogenising force that sought to overwhelm local competition (Holt; Thomson). In response, Starbucks has sought to be defined as a more responsive and interactive brand that encourages “glocalisation” (de Larios; Thompson). Koller, however, has characterised glocalisation as the manipulative fabrication of an “imagined community”—whose heterogeneity is in fact maintained by the aesthetics and purchasing choices of consumers who make distinctive and conscious anti-brand statements (114). Neat Capitalism is a more useful concept here, one that intercedes between corporate ideology and postmodern cultural logic, where such notions as community relations and customer satisfaction are deliberately and perhaps somewhat cynically conflated with the goal of profit maximisation (Rojek). As the world’s largest chain of coffee houses with over 19,400 stores in March 2012 (Loxcel), Starbucks is an exemplar of this phenomenon. Their apparent commitment to environmental stewardship, community relations, and ethical sourcing is outlined in the company’s annual “Global Responsibility Report” (Vimac). It is also demonstrated in their engagement with charitable and environmental non-governmental organisations such as Fairtrade and Co-operative for Assistance and Relief Everywhere (CARE). By emphasising this, Starbucks are able to interpellate (that is, “call forth”, “summon”, or “hail” in Althusserian terms) those consumers who value environmental protection, social justice and ethical business practices (Rojek 117). Bob Dylan and Sheryl Crow provide interesting case studies of the persuasive cultural influence evoked by Neat Capitalism. Dylan’s 1962 song Talkin’ New York satirised his formative experiences as an impoverished performer in Greenwich Village’s coffee houses. In 1995, however, his decision to distribute the Bob Dylan: Live At The Gaslight 1962 CD exclusively via Starbucks generated significant media controversy. Prominent commentators expressed their disapproval (Wilson Harris) and HMV Canada withdrew Dylan’s product from their shelves (Lynskey). Despite this, the success of this and other projects resulted in the launch of Starbucks’s in-house record company, Hear Music, which released entirely new recordings from major artists such as Ray Charles, Paul McCartney, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon and Elvis Costello—although the company has recently announced a restructuring of their involvement in this venture (O’Neil). Sheryl Crow disparaged her former life as a waitress in Coffee Shop (1995), a song recorded for her second album. “Yes, I was a waitress. I was a waitress not so long ago; then I won a Grammy” she affirmed in a YouTube clip of a live performance from the same year. More recently, however, Crow has become an avowed self-proclaimed “Starbucks groupie” (Tickle), releasing an Artist’s Choice (2003) compilation album exclusively via Hear Music and performing at the company’s 2010 Annual Shareholders’s Meeting. Songs voicing more unequivocal dissatisfaction with Starbucks’s particular variant of Neat Capitalism include Busting Up a Starbucks (Mike Doughty, 2005), and Starbucks Takes All My Money (KJ-52, 2008). The most successful of these is undoubtedly Ron Sexsmith’s Jazz at the Bookstore (2006). Sexsmith bemoans the irony of intense original blues artists such as Leadbelly being drowned out by the cacophony of coffee grinding machines while customers queue up to purchase expensive coffees whose names they can’t pronounce. In this, he juxtaposes the progressive patina of corporate culture against the circumstances of African-American labour conditions in the deep South, the shocking incongruity of which eventually cause the old bluesman to turn in his grave. Fredric Jameson may have good reason to lament the depthless a-historical pastiche of postmodern popular culture, but this is no “nostalgia film”: Sexsmith articulates an artfully framed set of subtle, sensitive, and carefully contextualised observations. Songs about coffee also intersect with politics via lyrics that play on the mid-brown colour of the beverage, by employing it as a metaphor for the sociological meta-narratives of acculturation and assimilation. First popularised in Israel Zangwill’s 1905 stage play, The Melting Pot, this term is more commonly associated with Americanisation rather than miscegenation in the United States—a nuanced distinction that British band Blue Mink failed to grasp with their memorable invocation of “coffee-coloured people” in Melting Pot (1969). Re-titled in the US as People Are Together (Mickey Murray, 1970) the song was considered too extreme for mainstream radio airplay (Thompson). Ike and Tina Turner’s Black Coffee (1972) provided a more accomplished articulation of coffee as a signifier of racial identity; first by associating it with the history of slavery and the post-Civil Rights discourse of African-American autonomy, then by celebrating its role as an energising force for African-American workers seeking economic self-determination. Anyone familiar with the re-casting of black popular music in an industry dominated by Caucasian interests and aesthetics (Cashmore; Garofalo) will be unsurprised to find British super-group Humble Pie’s (1973) version of this song more recognisable. Conclusion Coffee-flavoured popular songs celebrate the stimulant effects of caffeine, provide metaphors for courtship rituals, and offer critiques of Neat Capitalism. Harold Love and Guthrie Ramsey have each argued (from different perspectives) that the cultural micro-narratives of small social groups allow us to identify important “ethnographic truths” (Ramsey 22). Aesthetically satisfying and intellectually stimulating coffee songs are found where these micro-narratives intersect with the ethnographic truths of coffee culture. 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The compulsion to work has clearly become pathological in modern industrial societies. Millions of people are working long hours, devoting their lives to making or doing things that will not enrich their lives or make them happier but will add to the garbage and pollution that the earth is finding difficult to accommodate. They are so busy doing this that they have little time to spend with their family and friends, to develop other aspects of themselves, to participate in their communities as full citizens. Unless the work/consume treadmill is overcome there is little hope for the planet. The work ethic, and the corresponding respect accorded to those who accumulate wealth, are socially constructed but rapidly becoming dysfunctional for social and environmental welfare. Much has been written about the role of Protestant preachers in the rise of the work ethic but the continued reinforcement of a secular work ethic owes much to literature, particularly self-help books and children's literature of the nineteenth century, which promoted work as a route to success and a sign of good character. In the centuries following the Protestant reformation the emphasis on work as a religious calling was gradually superseded by a materialistic quest for social mobility and material success. This success-oriented work ethic encouraged ambition, hard work, self-reliance, and self-discipline and held out the promise that such effort would be materially rewarded. Through example and reiteration, the myth that any man, no matter what his origins, could become rich if he tried hard enough became firmly established. The self-made man owed his advancement to habits of industry, sobriety, moderation, self-discipline, and avoidance of debt (Beder). In early America the middle classes "controlled the major institutions of social influence" the schools, churches, factories, political offices and publishing companies and used them to propagate work values (Cherrington 32-3). Their children learned the value of hard work from their parents and this was reinforced by school teachers, classroom readers and popular books. Benjamin Franklin was one of the best-known early propagators of work values. Poor Richard and Franklin's autobiography sold millions of copies at the time and was translated into many languages for sale abroad. In his books he urged thrift, industry, pursuit of money and hard work. "Newspapers, books, interviews, speeches, and literature abounded with praise of the successful who had made it on their own" (Bernstein 141). Success was defined in terms of doing well in business and making lots of money. Owning one's own business was supposed to be a route to success that was open to all, as Abraham Lincoln explained in an 1861 speech to Congress: "The prudent, penniless beginner in the world, labors for wages awhile, saves a surplus with which to buy tools or land for himself, then labors on his own account for awhile, and at length hires another new beginner to help him. This is a just, and generous, and prosperous system; which opens the way to all gives hope to all, and consequent energy and progress, and improvement of conditions to all." (qtd. in Chinoy 4) The earliest textbooks published in America promoted work values as part of good character and the formula to success. These included the Peter Parley books first published by Samuel Goodrich during the 1820s and 30s (Peter Parley was a pseudonym). Goodrich wrote some 150 children's books beginning with Tales of Peter Parley about America. The Parley books covered geography, history, commerce and even mathematics. McGuffey's Eclectic Readers were the standard English textbooks in American schools from 1830s through to 1920s. They were first published in 1836 and became perhaps the most widely read children's books in the 19th century with 122 million copies of the six readers sold to an estimated four fifths of US school children (Cherrington 36). American children learned to read and write using these books, which also taught middle-class values including the work ethic and success through hard work: "Work, work, my boy, be not afraid; Look labor boldly in the face" (qtd. in Bernstein 161). They are again being promoted today by conservative groups in the US (see for example http://www.liberty-tree.org/ltn/mcguffeys-reader.html and http://www.aobs-store.com/reviews/mcguffey.htm). American story books also taught work values. Horatio Alger (1832-99) was one of the most prolific American writers. He wrote some 130 books that taught work values to young boys. Twenty million copies of Alger's books were sold with titles such as Strive and Succeed, Ragged Dick, Mark the Matchboy, Risen from the Ranks, Bound to Rise. They typically told of poor boys who became self-made men through their own efforts and perseverance. In the twentieth century children continued to learn at school about how various successful businessmen had started from humble origins. From the 1940s the American Schools and Colleges Association presented an annual "Horatio Alger Award" to businessmen whose "rise to success symbolizes the tradition of starting from scratch under our system of free competitive enterprise" (Chinoy 1) and there are still a range of Alger associations and awards current today (see for example http://www.ihot.com/~has/ and http://www.horatioalger.com/). Self-help books supplemented fiction in showing the way to success. Books at the turn of the 20th century with names such as The Conquest of Poverty, Pushing to the Front, Success under Difficulty, all preached the message of how any motivated, hard-working individual could overcome life's obstacles. Work as a route to success was also promoted in Britain in books, newspapers and official reports. Workers were urged to work hard towards success, to be independent and raise themselves above their lowly stations in life through saving, striving, and industriousness. Nineteenth century organisations such as the Bettering Society promoted thrift and self-improvement and criticised measures to aid the poor (Roach 69). Samuel Smiles was one of the foremost advocates of "the spirit of self-help". His 1859 book Self-Help argued: "In many walks of life drudgery and toil must be cheerfully endured as the necessary discipline of life... He who allows his application to falter, or shirks his work on frivolous pretexts, is on the sure road to ultimate failure... even men with the commonest brains and the most slender powers will accomplish much..." (qtd. in Ward 22-3) The myth of the self-made man was also evident in popular music hall songs in the 19th century, such as Work Boys Work by Harry Clifton (1824-1872): ...labour leads to wealth and will keep you in good health, so its best to be contented with your lot. Whilst it was true that some of the early English manufacturers started off as workers themselves, they tended to come from the middle classes and as time went by the opportunity for working people to become capitalists were reduced as the income gap between capitalists and workers broadened. In fact the much publicised gospel of improvement and self-help served only to obscure the very limited prospects and achievements of the self-made men within early and later Victorian society, and investigations of the steel and hosiery industries, for instance, have shown how little recruitment occurred from the ranks of the workers to those of the entrepreneurs. (Thomis 86) However, there were enough oft-repeated stories of individuals moving from poverty to wealth to keep alive, at least in the minds of the well-to-do, the idea that hard work could lead from rags-to-riches, despite this not being the case for the vast majority of people who were born in poverty and died in poverty after a life time of hard work (Furnham 198). In this way the affluent were able to feel comfortable about poverty in their midst, blaming it on individual weakness rather than societal failings. In Britain, as in America, the myth of the self-made man persisted in children's literature into the twentieth century. Academic Philip Cohen noted: When I was growing up in the early 1950s it was still possible to get given 'improving books' for one's birthday, consisting of biographies of self-made men, engineers, inventors, industrialists, entrepreneurs, philanthropists and the like. These men, and they were all men, had usually lived in the 'heroic' age of nineteenth-century capitalism and the books themselves were clearly prepared for the edification of the young. (Cohen 61) The contemporary reception by audiences of the texts discussed in this article is unknown. In particular, the degree to which children were able to resist the none too subtle moral lessons contained in their texts and stories is a question requiring empirical research that has yet to be carried out. However, it is evident that the promotion of the work ethic has been a successful enterprise and this article has shown that 19thcentury books played an active part in that. Although not everyone subscribes to the work ethic today, the myth of the self-made man remains a myth in most English speaking countries, even though the disparities between rich and poor are widening and it is becoming more and more difficult for the poor to become rich through talent, effort and opportunities. Despite the dysfunctionality of the work ethic it continues to be promoted and praised, accepted and acquiesced to. It is one of the least challenged aspects of industrial culture. Yet it is based on myths and fallacies which provide legitimacy for gross social inequalities. If we are to protect the planet and our social health we need to find new ways of judging and valuing each other which are not work and income dependent. References Beder, Sharon. Selling the Work Ethic: From puritan pulpit to corporate PR. London: Zed Books, 2000. Bernstein, Paul. American Work Values: Their Origin and Development. Albany, NY: State U of New York P, 1997. Cherrington, David J. The Work Ethic: Working Values and Values that Work. New York: AMACON, 1980. Chinoy, Ely. Automobile Workers and the American Dream. 2nd ed. Urbana and Chicago: U of Illinois P, 1992. Cohen, Philip. "Teaching Enterprise Culture: Individualism, Vocationalism and the New Right." The Social Effects of Free Market Policies: An International Text. Ed. Ian Taylor. New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1990. 49-91. Furnham, Adrian. The Protestant Work Ethic: The Psychology of Work-Related Beliefs and Behaviours. London: Routledge, 1990. Roach, John. Social Reform in England 1780-1880. London: B T. Batsford, 1978. Thomis, Malcolm I. The Town Labourer and the Industrial Revolution. London: B.T.Batsford, 1974. Ward, J. T. The Age of Change 1770-1870. London: A&C Black, 1975. Links http://www.horatioalger.com/ http://www.aobs-store.com/reviews/mcguffey.htm http://www.ihot.com/~has/ http://www.liberty-tree.org/ltn/mcguffeys-reader.html Citation reference for this article MLA Style Beder, Sharon. "The Promotion of a Secular Work Ethic" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 4.5 (2001). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0111/Beder.xml >. Chicago Style Beder, Sharon, "The Promotion of a Secular Work Ethic" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 4, no. 5 (2001), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0111/Beder.xml > ([your date of access]). APA Style Beder, Sharon. (2001) The Promotion of a Secular Work Ethic. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 4(5). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0111/Beder.xml > ([your date of access]).

…love is queered not when we discover it to be resistant to or more than its known forms, but when we see that there is no world that admits how it actually works as a principle of living. Lauren Berlant – “Love, A Queer Feeling” As the sun beats down on a very dusty Musgrave Park, the crowd is hushed in respect for the elder addressing us. It is Pride Fair Day and we are listening to the story of how this place has been a home for queer and black people throughout Brisbane’s history. Like so many others, this park has been a place of refuge in times when Boundary Streets marked the lines aboriginal people couldn’t cross to enter the genteel heart of Brisbane’s commercial district. The street names remain today, and even if movements across territory are somewhat less constrained, a manslaughter trial taking place nearby reminds us of the surveillance aboriginal people still suffer as a result of their refusal to stay off the streets and out of sight in homes they don’t have. In the past few years, Fair Day has grown in size. It now charges an entry fee to fence out unwelcome guests, so that those who normally live here have been effectively uninvited from the party. On this sunny Saturday, we sit and talk about these things, and wonder at the number of spaces still left in this city for spontaneous, non-commercial encounters and alliances. We could hardly have known that in the course of just a few weeks, the distance separating us from others would grow even further. During the course of Brisbane’s month-long Pride celebrations in 2007, two events affected the rights agendas of both queer and black Australians. First, The Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission Report, Same Sex, Same Entitlements, was tabled in parliament. Second, the Federal government decided to declare a state of emergency in remote indigenous communities in the Northern Territory in response to an inquiry on the state of aboriginal child abuse. (The full title of the report is “Ampe Akelyernemane Meke Mekarle”: Little Children are Sacred, and the words are from the Arrandic languages of the Central Desert Region of the Northern Territory. The report’s front cover also explains the title in relation to traditional law of the Yolngu people of Arnhem Land.) While the latter issue has commanded the most media and intellectual attention, and will be discussed later in this piece, the timing of both reports provides an opportunity to consider the varying experiences of two particularly marginalised groups in contemporary Australia. In a period when the Liberal Party has succeeded in pitting minority claims against one another as various manifestations of “special interests” (Brett, Gregg) this essay suggests there is a case to be made for queer and black activists to join forces against wider tendencies that affect both communities. To do this I draw on the work of American critic, Lauren Berlant, who for many years has offered a unique take on debates about citizenship in the United States. Writing from a queer theory perspective, Berlant argues that the conservative political landscape in her country has succeeded in convincing people that “the intimacy of citizenship is something scarce and sacred, private and proper, and only for members of families” (Berlant Queen 2-3). The consequence of this shift is that politics moves from being a conversation conducted in the public sphere about social issues to instead resemble a form of adjudication on the conduct of others in the sphere of private life. In this way, Berlant indicates how heteronormative culture “uses cruel and mundane strategies both to promote change from non-normative populations and to deny them state, federal, and juridical supports because they are deemed morally incompetent to their own citizenship” (Berlant, Queen 19). In relation to the so-called state of emergency in the Northern Territory, coming so soon after attempts to encourage indigenous home-ownership in the same region, the compulsion to promote change from non-normative populations currently affects indigenous Australians in ways that resonate with Berlant’s argument. While her position reacts to an environment where the moral majority has a much firmer hold on the national political spectrum, in Australia these conservative forces have no need to be so eloquent—normativity is already embedded in a particular form of “ordinariness” that is the commonsense basis for public political debate (Allon, Brett and Moran). These issues take on further significance as home-ownership and aspirations towards it have gradually become synonymous with the demonstration of appropriate citizenship under the Coalition government: here, phrases like “an interest rate election” are assumed to encapsulate voter sentiment while “the mortgage belt” has emerged as the demographic most keenly wooed by precariously placed politicians. As Berlant argues elsewhere, the project of normalization that makes heterosexuality hegemonic also entails “material practices that, though not explicitly sexual, are implicated in the hierarchies of property and propriety” that secure heteronormative privilege (Berlant and Warner 548). Inhabitants of remote indigenous communities in Australia are invited to desire and enact normal homes in order to be accepted and rewarded as valuable members of the nation; meanwhile gay and lesbian couples base their claims for recognition on the adequate manifestation of normal homes. In this situation black and queer activists share an interest in elaborating forms of kinship and community that resist the limited varieties of home-building currently sanctioned and celebrated by the State. As such, I will conclude this essay with a model for this alternative process of home-building in the hope of inspiring others. Home Sweet Home Ever since the declaration of terra nullius, white Australia has had a hard time recognising homes it doesn’t consider normal. To the first settlers, indigenous people’s uncultivated land lacked meaning, their seasonal itinerancy challenged established notions of property, while their communal living and wider kinship relations confused nuclear models of procreative responsibility and ancestry. From the homes white people still call “camps” many aboriginal people were moved against their will on to “missions” which even in name invoked the goal of assimilation into mainstream society. So many years later, white people continue to maintain that their version of homemaking is the most superior, the most economically effective, the most functional, with government policy and media commentators both agreeing that “the way out of indigenous disadvantage is home ownership.”(The 1 July broadcast of the esteemed political chat show Insiders provides a representative example of this consensus view among some of the country’s most respected journalists.) In the past few months, low-interest loans have been touted as the surest route out of the shared “squalor” (Weekend Australian, June 30-July1) of communal living and the right path towards economic development in remote aboriginal communities (Karvelas, “New Deal”). As these references suggest, The Australian newspaper has been at the forefront of reporting these government initiatives in a positive light: one story from late May featured a picture of Tiwi Islander Mavis Kerinaiua watering her garden with the pet dog and sporting a Tigers Aussie Rules singlet. The headline, “Home, sweet home, for Mavis” (Wilson) was a striking example of a happy and contented black woman in her own backyard, especially given how regularly mainstream national news coverage of indigenous issues follows a script of failed aboriginal communities. In stories like these, communal land ownership is painted as the cause of dysfunction, and individual homes are crucial to “changing the culture.” Never is it mentioned that communal living arrangements clearly were functional before white settlement, were an intrinsic part of “the culture”; nor is it acknowledged that the option being offered to indigenous people is land that had already been taken away from them in one way or another. That this same land can be given back only on certain conditions—including financially rewarding those who “prove they are doing well” by cultivating their garden in recognisably right ways (Karvelas, “New Deal”)— bolsters Berlant’s claim that government rhetoric succeeds by transforming wider structural questions into matters of individual responsibility. Home ownership is the stunningly selective neoliberal interpretation of “land rights”. The very notion of private property erases the social and cultural underpinnings of communal living as a viable way of life, stigmatising any alternative forms of belonging that might form the basis for another kind of home. Little Children Are Sacred The latest advance in efforts to encourage greater individual responsibility in indigenous communities highlights child abuse as the pivotal consequence of State and Local government inaction. The innocent indigenous child provides the catalyst for a myriad of competing political positions, the most vocal of which welcomes military intervention on behalf of powerless, voiceless kids trapped in horrendous scenarios (Kervalas, “Pearson’s Passion”). In these representations, the potentially abused aboriginal child takes on “supericonicity” in public debate. In her North American context, Berlant uses this concept to explain how the unborn child figures in acrimonious arguments over abortion. The foetus has become the most mobilising image in the US political scene because: it is an image of an American, perhaps the last living American, not yet bruised by history: not yet caught up in the processes of secularisation and centralisation… This national icon is too innocent of knowledge, agency, and accountability and thus has ethical claims on the adult political agents who write laws, make culture, administer resources, control things. (Berlant, Queen 6) In Australia, the indigenous child takes on supericonicity because he or she is too young to formulate a “black armband” view of history, to have a point of view on why their circumstance happens to be so objectionable, to vote out the government that wants to survey and penetrate his or her body. The child’s very lack of agency is used as justification for the military action taken by those who write laws, make the culture that will be recognized as an appropriate performance of indigeneity, administer (at the same time as they cut) essential resources; those who, for the moment, control things. However, and although a government perspective would not recognize this, in Australia the indigenous child is always already bruised by conventional history in the sense that he or she will have trouble accessing the stories of ancestors and therefore the situation that affects his or her entry into the world. Indeed, it is precisely the extent to which the government denies its institutional culpability in inflicting wounds on aboriginal people throughout history that the indigenous child’s supericonicity is now available as a political weapon. Same-Sex: Same Entitlements A situation in which the desire for home ownership is pedagogically enforced while also being economically sanctioned takes on further dimensions when considered next to the fate of other marginalised groups in society—those for whom an appeal for acceptance and equal rights pivots on the basis of successfully performing normal homes. While indigenous Australians are encouraged to aspire for home ownership as the appropriate manifestation of responsible citizenship, the HREOC report represents a group of citizens who crave recognition for already having developed this same aspiration. In the case studies selected for the Same-Sex: Same Entitlements Report, discrimination against same-sex couples is identified in areas such as work and taxation, workers’ compensation, superannuation, social security, veterans’ entitlements and childrearing. It recommends changes to existing laws in these areas to match those that apply to de facto relationships. When launching the report, the commissioner argued that gay people suffer discrimination “simply because of whom they love”, and the report launch quotes a “self-described ‘average suburban family’” who insist “we don’t want special treatment …we just want equality” (HREOC). Such positioning exercises give some insight into Berlant’s statement that “love is a site that has perhaps not yet been queered enough” (Berlant, “Love” 433). A queer response to the report might highlight that by focussing on legal entitlements of the most material kind, little is done to challenge the wider situation in which one’s sexual relationship has the power to determine intimate possessions and decisions—whether this is buying a plane ticket, getting a loan, retiring in some comfort or finding a nice nursing home. An agenda calling for legislative changes to financial entitlement serves to reiterate rather than challenge the extent to which economically sanctioned subjectivities are tied to sexuality and normative models of home-building. A same-sex rights agenda promoting traditional notions of procreative familial attachment (the concerned parents of gay kids cited in the report, the emphasis on the children of gay couples) suggests that this movement for change relies on a heteronormative model—if this is understood as the manner in which the institutions of personal life remain “the privileged institutions of social reproduction, the accumulation and transfer of capital, and self-development” (Berlant and Warner 553). What happens to those who do not seek the same procreative path? Put another way, the same-sex entitlements discourse can be seen to demand “intelligibility” within the hegemonic understanding of love, when love currently stands as the primordial signifier and ultimate suturing device for all forms of safe, reliable and useful citizenly identity (Berlant, “Love”). In its very terminology, same-sex entitlement asks to access the benefits of normativity without challenging the ideological or economic bases for its attachment to particular living arrangements and rewards. The political agenda for same-sex rights taking shape in the Federal arena appears to have chosen its objectives carefully in order to fit existing notions of proper home building and the economic incentives that come with them. While this is understandable in a conservative political environment, a wider agenda for queer activism in and outside the home would acknowledge that safety, security and belonging are universal desires that stretch beyond material acquisitions, financial concerns and procreative activity (however important these things are). It is to the possibilities this perspective might generate that I now turn. One Size Fits Most Urban space is always a host space. The right to the city extends to those who use the city. It is not limited to property owners. (Berlant and Warner, 563) The affective charge and resonance of a concept like home allows an opportunity to consider the intimacies particular to different groups in society, at the same time as it allows contemplation of the kinds of alliances increasingly required to resist neoliberalism’s impact on personal space. On one level, this might entail publicly denouncing representations of indigenous living conditions that describe them as “squalor” as some kind of hygienic short-hand that comes at the expense of advocating infrastructure suited to the very different way of living that aboriginal kinship relations typically require. Further, as alternative cultural understandings of home face ongoing pressure to fit normative ideals, a key project for contemporary queer activism is to archive, document and publicise the varied ways people choose to live at this point in history in defiance of sanctioned arrangements (eg Gorman-Murray 2007). Rights for gay and lesbian couples and parents need not be called for in the name of equality if to do so means reproducing a logic that feeds the worst stereotypes around non-procreating queers. Such a perspective fares poorly for the many literally unproductive citizens, queer and straight alike, whose treacherous refusal to breed banishes them from the respectable suburban politics to which the current government caters. Which takes me back to the park. Later that afternoon on Fair Day, we’ve been entertained by a range of performers, including the best Tina Turner impersonator I’ll ever see. But the highlight is the festival’s special guest, Vanessa Wagner who decides to end her show with a special ceremony. Taking the role of celebrant, Vanessa invites three men on to the stage who she explains are in an ongoing, committed three-way relationship. Looking a little closer, I remember meeting these blokes at a friend’s party last Christmas Eve: I was the only girl in an apartment full of gay men in the midst of some serious partying (and who could blame them, on the eve of an event that holds dubious relevance for their preferred forms of intimacy and celebration?). The wedding takes place in front of an increasingly boisterous crowd that cannot fail to appreciate the gesture as farcically mocking the sacred bastion of gay activism—same-sex marriage. But clearly, the ceremony plays a role in consecrating the obvious desire these men have for each other, in a safe space that feels something like a home. Their relationship might be a long way from many people’s definition of normal, but it clearly operates with care, love and a will for some kind of longevity. For queer subjects, faced with a history of persecution, shame and an unequal share of a pernicious illness, this most banal of possible definitions of home has been a luxury difficult to afford. Understood in this way, queer experience is hard to compare with that of indigenous people: “The queer world is a space of entrances, exits, unsystematised lines of acquaintance, projected horizons, typifying examples, alternate routes, blockages, incommensurate geographies” (Berlant and Warner 558). In many instances, it has “required the development of kinds of intimacy that bear no necessary relation to domestic space, to kinship, to the couple form, to property, or to the nation” (ibid) in liminal and fleeting zones of improvisation like parties, parks and public toilets. In contrast, indigenous Australians’ distinct lines of ancestry, geography, and story continue through generations of kin in spite of the efforts of a colonising power to reproduce others in its own image. But in this sense, what queer and black Australians now share is the fight to live and love in more than one way, with more than one person: to extend relationships of care beyond the procreative imperative and to include land that is beyond the scope of one’s own backyard. Both indigenous and queer Australians stand to benefit from a shared project “to support forms of affective, erotic and personal living that are public in the sense of accessible, available to memory, and sustained through collective activity” (Berlant and Warner 562). To build this history is to generate an archive that is “not simply a repository” but “is also a theory of cultural relevance” (Halberstam 163). A queer politics of home respects and learns from different ways of organising love, care, affinity and responsibility to a community. This essay has been an attempt to document other ways of living that take place in the pockets of one city, to show that homes often exist where others see empty space, and that love regularly survives beyond the confines of the couple. In learning from the history of oppression experienced in the immediate territories I inhabit, I also hope it captures what it means to reckon with the ongoing knowledge of being an uninvited guest in the home of another culture, one which, through shared activism, will continue to survive much longer than this, or any other archive. References Allon, Fiona. “Home as Cultural Translation: John Howard’s Earlwood.” Communal/Plural 5 (1997): 1-25. Berlant, Lauren. The Queen of America Goes to Washington City: Essays on Sex and Citizenship. Durham: Duke University Press, 1997. ———. “Love, A Queer Feeling.” Homosexuality and Psychoanalysis. Eds. Tim Dean and Christopher Lane. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 2001. 432-51. ———, and Michael Warner. “Sex in Public.” Critical Inquiry 24.2 (1998): 547-566. Brett, Judith. Australian Liberals and the Moral Middle Class: From Alfred Deakin to John Howard. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. ———, and Anthony Moran. Ordinary People’s Politics: Australians Talk About Politics, Life and the Future of Their Country. Melbourne: Pluto Press, 2006. Gorman-Murray, Andrew. “Contesting Domestic Ideals: Queering the Australian Home.” Australian Geographer 38.2 (2007): 195-213. Gregg, Melissa. “The Importance of Being Ordinary.” International Journal of Cultural Studies 10.1 (2007): 95-104. Halberstam, Judith. In a Queer Time and Place: Transgender Bodies, Subcultural Lives. New York and London: NYU Press, 2005 Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission. Same-Sex: Same Entitlements Report. 2007. 21 Aug. 2007 http://www.hreoc.gov.au/human_rights/samesex/report/index.html>. ———. Launch of Final Report of the Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission’s Same-Sex: Same Entitlements Inquiry (transcript). 2007. 5 July 2007 . Insiders. ABC TV. 1 July 2007. 5 July 2007 http://www.abc.net.au/insiders/content/2007/s1966728.htm>. Karvelas, Patricia. “It’s New Deal or Despair: Pearson.” The Weekend Australian 12-13 May 2007: 7. ———. “How Pearson’s Passion Moved Howard to Act.” The Australian. 23 June 2007. 5 July 2007 http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,20867,21952951-5013172,00.html>. Northern Territory Government Inquiry Report into the Protection of Aboriginal Children from Sexual Abuse. Ampe Akelyernemane Meke Mekarle: Little Children Are Sacred. 2007. 5 July 2007 http://www.nt.gov.au/dcm/inquirysaac/pdf/bipacsa_final_report.pdf>. Wilson, Ashleigh. “Home, Sweet Home, for Mavis.” The Weekend Australian 12-13 May 2007: 7. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Gregg, Melissa. "Normal Homes." M/C Journal 10.4 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/02-gregg.php>. APA Style Gregg, M. (Aug. 2007) "Normal Homes," M/C Journal, 10(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0708/02-gregg.php>.

The paper discusses mobility in the context of displacement. How is the mobile phone appropriated by refugees in immigration detention? What does the mobile phone, and indeed, mobility, signify in an Australian policy landscape of mandatory detention of asylum seekers and formerly prohibited access to mobile phones for detainees inside immigration detention centres? What does this intimate about the perceived dangers of “new” and mobile media? The author’s preliminary research with refugees in Australian immigration detention centres compares policy and practice. Firstly, it interrogates the unwritten policies regulating refugees’ access to media technologies when incarcerated in immigration detention. As there is no written policy on technology access and practices vary across immigration detention centres, the information in this paper has been given by detainees and has not been verified by the management of detention centres. The paper suggests that the utopian promises of mobile media echo those made about cyberspace in the 1990s. Furthermore, the residual effects of such rhetoric have infiltrated government policy in terms of perceiving mobile media as dangerous when adopted by marginalised groups such as refugees. Secondly, the research examines how and why the mobile phone has been adopted by immigration detainees despite their former prohibition. It explores the ways in which refugees practice an imagined mobility through media whilst in detention, and finds that this is critical to sustaining connection with their imagined communities. Why Refugees? In the context of increased forced migration of people due to circumstances such as political instability, war, natural disaster and famine; it is necessary to better understand how refugees mobilise and organise in situations of displacement. As new technologies encourage the capacity for borderlessness, such advantages also have to be contrasted with the potential dangers of spontaneous border crossings. The study of the behaviour and practices of refugees in relation to communication technologies offers an insight into the efficacy of immigration detention policy in filtering movement and interaction, both physical and virtual, between Australia and other countries. Although the study of refugees is a discipline in its own right, there has been minimal examination of how they appropriate technology, particularly that which facilitates and complements their mobility, to maintain connections with their diasporic networks while in situations of displacement. The studies that have been undertaken concentrate on the use of technology by refugees living in the wider community (see Glazebrook, McIver Jr. and Prokosch; Howard and Owens), rather than in the context of detention. In previous research of diasporas within the discipline of Cultural Studies, technology has been regarded as vital to subcultures and minority groups. Technology has been the tool by which such communities respond to their structural conditions (see Cunningham; Hall; Halleck). Such investigations have concentrated on the intersection of class, gender and ethnicity and how they inscribe meanings to specific technologies, which in turn, become intrinsic to the identities of the groups and communities. The research extends the work that has been done within Cultural Studies by similarly focusing on a marginalised group, refugees, and their participation in particular technologies. A review of literature across refugee studies, diaspora studies and technology studies has shown that: The study of technology use by refugees has had minimal investigation The study of diasporas has rarely included refugees The study of communities and communication practices which surround particular technologies has concentrated on groups other than refugees The escalation of issues of asylum and border control in public discourse warrant more knowledge about refugees and their networks of communication beyond the boundaries of detention and Australia The notion of “networks” refers to people, technologies, processes and practices that form the relationships between refugees in institutionalised immigration detention and the outside world. The Australian Immigration Detention Context Between 1992 and 1994, Australian law moved from permitting (but not enforcing) limited detention of asylum seekers, to a blanket policy of mandatory detention (HREOC) which, at one point, had up to 12,000 individuals in detention (Castan Centre for Human Rights Law). The detention context is particularly relevant to Australia, because its policy of mandatory detention means that refugees have restricted contact with the world outside of the detention centre. In 2005, the Migration Amendment (Detention Arrangements) Bill allowed detained families with children to live in community detention, that is, in residential accommodation outside of an immigration detention centre. Although community detention carries with it specific conditions, families are unaccompanied and have more freedom of movement. This paper discusses the author’s preliminary work with refugees in immigration detention, prior to the introduction of community detention. The research sought to investigate how asylum seekers use technology to sustain connections with their virtual communities in situations of displacement. Specifically, it explored how technology is appropriated to mediate communication in the context of institutionalised detention. The key research questions addressed by the research were: what kinds of technologies are available to refugees? How are these used? How are their benefits and limitations perceived? What, if any, kinds of social networks surround these technologies? How are relationships of power surrounding these technologies negotiated? Can technology assist refugees in sustaining connections with their communities of choice and reducing their sense of isolation? Can technology play a role in reducing the well-documented effects of this incarceration by providing mediated social interaction? What are the implications for policy, especially in relation to permitted technologies and surveillance of communication practices? Access to informants was gained by working with a refugee community advocacy group, which has established links with refugees in detention and experience in dealing with the management of detention centres. One such group is ChilOut, which organises visitor programs to immigration detention centres. This affiliation was important in gaining access to, and trust of, detainees who were willing to participate in the research. It presented opportunities to interact with detainees on a social basis. Semi-structured interviews with the research subjects were conducted to ascertain the strategies and resources currently utilised to counter the effects of mandatory detention. In 2005, detainees had access to a range of technology which can be broadly termed “old media”, while access to “new media” – such as the Internet and mobile phones – are prohibited. At the time of printing, detainees reported that mobile phones without cameras were only recently permitted. Detainees have access to pay phones inside the centre. Visitors are allowed to give detainees phone cards so they can use the pay phones without charge or the need for change. In addition to pay phones, detainees are provided with access to a fax and photocopier, which are generally used to liaise with and send relevant documentation to lawyers. There is distrust of using the fax machine at the detention centre because it is in a management office area and the detainees require permission to use it. It means the guards can read the faxes that are sent, as well as those that are received before notifying the detainees that they have received one. Detainees also have television, videos, DVDs and newspapers, so there is the possibility of feeling like part of an imagined community (Anderson) through these media. There are computers available, but no Internet access. Some of the children load computer games on them to play, others have Playstation in their rooms. It is noteworthy that the only technology to which detainees have access and which facilitates real-time person-to-person interaction is the telephone. The phone offers the opportunity for direct contact with the outside world without the visual and other sensory realities of detention. The telephone is able to mask the extent of imprisonment as it does not show the barbed razor wire surrounding the compound. Yet detainees were not permitted to have mobile phones for a long time. Thus, the key question remains: why were they deprived of access to mobile phones while allowed access to pay phones and landlines? What does this suggest about the perceived dangers of mobile media and the resonance of last century’s techno-utopian discourses? Given that detainees were only given access to “old media”, it seems that this tired but resolutely upbeat rhetoric about new technology which celebrates it as inherently liberating actually inflected policies determining the kinds of technologies to which detainees have access. It confirms the pessimistic assertions of media theorists such as Schiller and Mosco, that new technologies further alienate disadvantaged groups. As the Australian government attempts to regulate the physical movement of people across its borders, mantras of the dot.com era such as “everyone is a free agent” (Kumar 77) appear to undermine this agenda. The assumptions of liberty and democracy embedded in this “free agency” are implicit in policies that denied refugees access to “new media” such as the Internet and mobile phones. The “liberating” nature of such technology was regarded as unsafe in the hands of refugees, whose freedom of movement is institutionally contained by the Australian government through mandatory detention. The physical movement of refugees, as well as the agency and freedom with which they can claim asylum in a country, is actively discouraged through immigration detention policy and limitations on access to technology. The promise of self-expression afforded by mobile media seemed antithetical to the prejudicial administration of refugees, which is premised upon a distrust of their claims of identity and asylum. Subsequently, their use of mobile technology was also assumed to be suspect and therefore had to be restricted. Detained refugees serve as a reminder of the parameters of upbeat discourses about new technology. That is, the utopian possibilities of mobile media appear to be conditional such that its “power” can only be entrusted to certain groups. In policy terms, the mobile phone is a rich site of signification. Not only does the technology itself imply a way of being (that is free, mobile, always accessible and always able to access), but it also connotes an ideal type of user, one that is appropriate and deserving of such technology. It seems that refugees are not entitled to their mobility and, therefore, do not have rights to media that is considered to facilitate such mobility, in spite of their detention. Furthermore, there is a suggested dichotomy in the government’s classification of the technologies to which refugees have access. The fact of detention means refugees are surrounded by technology, held captive by it and are inevitably in close proximity to it. It is technology which is seen as antithetical to mobility and therefore could be described as “static”: phones, faxes, photocopiers, television, video – all of which may be characterised as “old media”. The binary opposite of such technology is that which can be regarded as mobile or new or interactive media; that which resonates with the residual effects of 1990s techno-utopian rhetoric; and could be considered as threatening in the hands of those who have physically made unauthorised border crossings. However, prior investigations of “mobile” technologies, demonstrates that such dualisms are flawed as the lowest technologies also have the capacity to facilitate mobility. Examples include Paul Gilroy’s work on the Black Atlantic, which notes that books and records have been vital in carrying oppositional ideologies and philosophies across the black diaspora. Within Asian diasporas, the exchange of video letters and taped Bollywood movies have been interpreted as forms of localised challenges to the centralised power of the broadcast media industries (Ang; Gillespie). These economies of exchange as facilitated by older forms of mobile media have been studied in relation to issues of migration and marginalisation. Given that refugees are also affected by such issues, their mobile media practices are a sobering reminder that mobility is not necessarily hi-tech nor confined to the realms of the affluent, educated and socio-economically advantaged. Rather, mobility can be a tenuous state of being displaced and itinerant, with technology adopted to manage and adapt to its challenges. The Mobile Media Practices of Detained Refugees The initial findings from the fieldwork indicate that for refugees, the mobile phone is not a technology of choice but instead, a technology of necessity and survival. Every technology that is available to them is used to sustain connection to their localized and globalised networks. The restriction to their physical movement of detainees is compensated through use of technology which allows any sort of interaction and communication. Being part of a technologically-mediated community appears to minimise the marginalisation and isolation they experience. Such feelings of dislocation have been well-documented in studies of the impact of incarceration on the mental health of refugees (see Mares and Jureidini; RANZCP; Hodes). It seems that the telephone and fax are the mainstays of their communication networks. However, such technologies are closely monitored, as landline phone calls can be traced or even tapped, and faxes have to be sent from an office manned by guards. An experienced visitor to detention centres commented that “most” detainees had mobile phones and when they were contraband, guards knew about them but generally ignored their use by detainees. Only mobile phones offer the potential for communication to be free from the surveillance by detention centres staff. The ways in which mobile phones are used by detainees is decidedly lo-tech, for example, for communication with family where use of a landline is impractical. One of the detainees said that he speaks to his wife and children on the centre pay phone every few days. However, the call costs are expensive as his family only has a mobile phone, not a landline, at their place of residence. For them to call him is also expensive and awkward, because they have to call the pay phone and if somebody answers, they have then to locate him somewhere within the compound. Thus, the connections between the detainees and their loved ones are very fragile in that they are almost totally dependent on the phone to maintain these relationships. In this instance, the mobile phone offers another means for managing the tenuous nature of these ties. The mobile phone, particularly SMS technology, offers a suitable alternative as the detainee can communicate with his family cheaply and quickly. It compensates for the constraints of the pay phone. The informal interactions afforded by the mobile phone also extend beyond family members of detainees to their supporters and advocates. Likewise, the mobile phone complements the communication practices facilitated through permitted technologies. For example, when detainees are liaising with the Department of Immigration (DIMIA), they will ask advice from the regular visitors to the immigration detention centre who come from an array of organizations such as churches, refugee advocacy groups, law firms and health organizations. Visitors generally offer whatever assistance they can by obtaining necessary forms from the department, searching the Internet, undertaking letter writing campaigns, and lobbying government ministers. Something worked in amongst all the network activity that took place over the course of this week. As promised to the family, I scoured the DIMIA web site for a form for applying under Section 417. While there didn’t seem to be an official form, I used the opportunity to research the section of the Migration Act. Googling turned up a 12 page “guide to section 417 applications” written by a barrister, which I printed out and faxed to them. So as to ensure that the family received the fax, I SMS-ed them to let them know a fax was on its way and how many pages to expect. They responded to me by fax, saying that they had been notified that they too were going to be released into community detention in the coming weeks. (Extract from fieldwork diary) The mobile phone serves the function of anticipating and verifying communications which may potentially be surveilled by staff of detention centres. Where detainees may not trust that they are being given all the letters or faxes that have been sent to them, the mobile phone enables a degree of privacy so that they at least know what to expect from their correspondents. Furthermore, it provides the opportunity for detainees to speak about matters related to their case for asylum that are regarded as too sensitive to risk being discussed in a public place such as on the centre pay phone. Often this involves seeking assistance with their application for asylum. He rang T on the centre pay phone and said that he would like to speak with me, but did not have my number. He didn’t have a pen and paper to jot down my details at the time, so he gave T his mobile number and asked her to pass it onto me, so I could ring him on it. When I rang, he had returned to his room where he could talk freely. He told me about the visit from the Commonwealth Ombudsman, who undertook to look into his case over the next couple of weeks. We talked about what would assist the Ombudsman in reviewing the case. I said I would write a letter or email in the first instance, and if he wanted other letters of support, I could circulate details of his case on the ChilOut newsletter. He said he didn’t want publicity at this stage. I offered to fax him a copy of my email, but he preferred that I give it to him in person as the fax machine in the office was too public and any documents received could be read. Again, the mobile seems to be the most appropriate technology for coordinating and organising privately away from centre surveillance… (Extract from fieldwork diary) Fear of breaches of confidentiality form only part of detainees’ desire for privacy from detention centre staff. There is also a need for private space away from other detainees as their imprisonment necessitates the constant use of communal facilities such as the pay phone. In addition to being used for its capacity for private communication, the mobile phone was also exploited as a broadcast technology by detained refugees. Text messages proved an effective way of providing brief updates to family and friends about the status of their case: 20 September 200510:24:07 Hi Linda. I am fine thank u. not news yet, I think they’ll come to see me soon, if I got news, I’ll let u know. Wish u have a good time. 15 October 200516:31:49 HI Linda, I was interview by Ombudsman yesterday, we talked about one hour and a half, it sound good…Thank u for yr concern 25 December 200520:26:54 Hi Linda. I am still in [detention centre]. No any news from Ombudsman, may be early next year. I am fine here, thanks. Tuesday 17 October 200613:44:41 Hi Linda…I transferd to [community] housing. Its much better here. How a u? takecare ur health, thanks. Thursday 16 November 200618:46:23 HI There is a good news to let u know I got the decision from that I won the FC case. Thus, for detained refugees, the mobile phone has been adopted for simple, lo-tech use. None of the respondents indicated a desire for a camera function on their mobile phones. However, one detainee did suggest that she would like to use a webcam to see and hear her child in China, whom she has not seen in eight years. While she did use the Internet for this purpose when she was on the “outside”, now she can only rely on weekly telephone conversations made from inside the detention centre. Conclusion What happens when technology is placed in the hands of those for whom it was never meant? It makes explicit what is often implied in studies of adoption of new technology, that the “utopian promise” is confined to a narrow socio-economic demographic: the advantaged, the affluent and the educated. Those who fall outside these perimeters are perceived as undeserving and untrustworthy of such technology. This is exemplified in the Australian government’s policy to deny refugees access to “new” and mobile media whilst being compulsorily detained. The decision to withhold mobile technology from mobile communities who are not so materially privileged is not only ironic but unwarranted in light of the empirical data. This has since been acknowledged by allowing detainees use of mobile phones. The mobile phone practices of detained refugees show that it is being used as a complementary and alternative technology, that is, to compensate for the inadequacies of the communication media allowed by detention centres. The mobile phone is exploited for the functions that permitted technologies do not offer: firstly, the ability to communicate with friends and family more immediately and effectively; secondly, the capacity to communicate privately with less probability of surveillance; thirdly, the opportunity to broadcast content one to many. In such communications, use of the mobile phone is simple and lo-tech: it is deployed for straightforward (but improved) interaction with detainees’ imagined communities which would otherwise be possible anyway through the “old” media technologies provided in detention. In practice, there was no evidence of the use of the hi-tech functions of mobile phones; nor was there any indication, as implied by policy, of the possible dangers that may ensue if such features of mobile media were available to detained refugees. Potentially, the research can impact on immigration detention policy, particularly in terms of reviewing the conditions under which technology is made available to refugees in institutionalised detention contexts. However, further research is required, especially a comparison of the former prohibited use of mobile media in immigration detention centres with the permitted use of these in community immigration detention. References Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities. London: Verso, 1993. Ang, Ien. Living Room Wars: Rethinking Media Audiences for a Postmodern World. London: Routledge, 1996. Castan Centre for Human Rights Law. 2003. “Detention, Children and Asylum Seekers: A Comparative Study.” Submission to the National Inquiry into Children in Immigration Detention. 26 July 2004. http://www.hreoc.gov.au/human_rights/children_detention/ submissions/castan.html>. Cunningham, Stuart. “Popular Media as Public ‘Sphericules’ for Diasporic Communities.” International Journal of Cultural Studies 4.2 (2001): 131-147. Gillespie, Marie. Television, Ethnicity and Cultural Change. London: Routledge, 1995. Gilroy, Paul. There Ain’t no Black in the Union Jack. London: Hutchison, 1987. Glazebrook, Diana. “Becoming Mobile after Detention.” Social Analysis: International Journal of Cultural and Social Practice 48.3 (2004). Hall, Stuart. “Aspirations and Attitude… Reflections on Black Britain in the 90s.” New Formations: Frontlines, Backyards. London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1998. Halleck, Dee. “Watch Out Dick Tracy! Popular Video in the Wake of Exxon Valdez.” Technoculture. Eds. Constance Penley and Andrew Ross. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1991. Hodes, Matthew. “Three Key Issues for Young Refugees’ Mental Health.” Transcultural Psychiatry 39.2 (2002): 196-213. Howard, Ellen, and Christine Owens. “Using the Internet to Communicate with Immigrant/Refugee Communities about Health.” Poster presentation at JCDL ‘02, Portland, Oregon, 13-17 July 2002. Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission (HREOC). “A Last Resort?” Report on National Inquiry into Children in Immigration Detention. 26 July 2004. http://www.hreoc.gov.au/human_rights/children_detention/ submissions/castan.html>. Kumar, Amitava. “Temporary Access: The Indian H-1B Worker in the US.” Technicolor: Race, Technology and Everyday Life. Eds. Alondra Nelson and Thuy Linh Tu. New York: NYU P, 2001. Mares, Sarah, and Jon Jureidini. “Children and Families Referred from a Remote Immigration Detention Centre.” Forgotten Rights – Responding to the Crisis of Asylum Seeker Health Care: A National Summit. 12 Nov. 2003. McIver, William, and Arthur Prokosch. “Towards a Critical Approach to Examining the Digital Divide”. IEEE, 2002. Mosco, Vincent. Pushbutton Fantasies: Critical Perspectives in Videotex and Information Technology. Norwood: Ablex, 1982. Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists. “RANZCP Airs Deep Concern at the Mandatory Detention of Child Asylum Seekers.” Media release, 11 Nov. 2003. Schiller, Herbert. Information Inequality: The Deepening Social Crisis in America. London: Routledge, 1996. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Leung, Linda. "Mobility and Displacement: Refugees' Mobile Media Practices in Immigration Detention." M/C Journal 10.1 (2007). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0703/10-leung.php>. APA Style Leung, L. (Mar. 2007) "Mobility and Displacement: Refugees' Mobile Media Practices in Immigration Detention," M/C Journal, 10(1). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0703/10-leung.php>.

In the summer of 1999, four ships carrying 599 Fujianese people arrived on the west coast of Canada. They survived a desperate and dangerous journey only for the Canadian Government to put them in prison. After numerous deportations, there are still about 40 of these people in Canadian prisons as of January 2001. They have been in jail for over a year and a half under mere suspicion of flight risk. About 24 people have been granted refugee status. Most people deported to China have been placed in Chinese prisons and fined. It is worth remembering that these migrants may have been undocumented but they are not "illegal" in that they have mobility rights. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights recognizes everyone's right to leave any country and to seek asylum. It can be argued that it is not the migrants who are illegal, but the unjust laws that criminalize their freedom of movement. In considering people's rights, we need to keep in mind not only the civil and political rights that the West tends to privilege, but equally important social and economic rights as well. As a local response to a global phenomenon, Direct Action Against Refugee Exploitation (DAARE) formed in Vancouver to support the rights of the Fujianese women, eleven of whom at the time of writing are still being held in the Burnaby Correctional Centre for Women (BCCW). In DAARE’s view, Immigration Canada's decision to detain all these people is based on a racialized group-profiling policy which violates basic human rights and ignores Canadian responsibility in the creation of the global economic and societal conditions which give rise to widespread migration. In light of the Canadian government's plans to implement even more punitive immigration legislation, DAARE endorses the Coalition for a Just Immigration and Refugee Policy's "Position Paper on Bill C31." They call for humanitarian review and release for the remaining Fujianese people. This review would include a few released refugee claimants who are still in Canada, children, women who were past victims of family planning, people facing religious persecution and, of course, those who are still in prison after 18 months and who have never been charged with any crime. Suspicion of flight risk is not a valid reason to incarcerate people for such a long time. Who Is a Migrant? The lines between "voluntary" and "forced" migration are no longer adequate to explain the complexities of population movements today. Motives for forced displacement include political, economic, social and environmental factors. This spectrum runs from the immediate threats to life, safety and freedom due to war or persecution, to situations where economic conditions make the prospects of survival marginal and non-existent. (Moussa 2000). Terms like "economic migrant" and "bogus refugee" have been used in the media to discredit migrants such as the Fujianese and to foster hostility against them. This scapegoating process oversimplifies the situation, for all refugees and all migrants are entitled to the basic respect due all human beings as enshrined in the UN Declaration of Human Rights. There can be multiple reasons for an individual to migrate—ranging from family reunification to economic pressures to personal survival; to fear of government corruption and of political persecution, to name just a few. The reduction of everything to merely the economic does not allow one to understand why migration is occurring and likely to increase in the future. Most immigrants to Canada could also be described as economic migrants. Conrad Black is an economic migrant. The privileging of rich migrants over poor ones romanticizes globalization as corporate progress and ignores the immense human suffering it entails for the majority of the world's population as the gap between the wealthy and the poor rapidly increases. Hundreds of years ago, when migrants came to this aboriginal territory we now call Canada, they came in order to survive—in short, they too were "economic migrants." Many of those migrants who came from Europe would not qualify to enter Canada today under its current immigration admissions guidelines. Indeed, over 50% of Canadians would not be able to independently immigrate to Canada given its current elitist restrictions. One of the major reasons for an increase in migration is the destruction of rural economies in Asia and elsewhere in the world. Millions of people have been displaced by changes in agriculture that separate people from the land. These waves of internal migration also result in the movement of peoples across national borders in order to survive. Chinese provinces such as Fujian and Guangdong, whose people have a long history of overseas travel, are particularly common sources of out-migration. In discussing migration, we need to be wary of how we can inadvertently reinforce the colonization of First Nations people unless we consciously work against that by actively supporting aboriginal self-determination. For example, some First Nations people have been accused of "smuggling" people across borders—this subjects them to the same process of criminalization which the migrants have experienced, and ignores the sovereign rights of First Nations people. We need ways of relating to one another which do not reenact domination, but which work in solidarity with First Nations' struggles. This requires an understanding of the ways in which racism, colonialism, classism, and other tactics through which "dividing and conquering" take place. For those of us who are first, second, third, fourth, fifth generation migrants to this land, our survival and liberation are intimately connected to that of aboriginal people. History Repeating Itself? The arrival of the Fujianese people met with a racist media hysteria reminiscent of earlier episodes of Canadian history. Front page newspaper headlines such as "Go Home" increased hostility against these people. In Victoria, people were offering to adopt the dog on one of the ships at the same time that they were calling to deport the Chinese. From the corporate media accounts of the situation, one would think that most Canadians did not care about the dangerous voyage these people had endured, a voyage during which two people from the second ship died. Accusations that people were trying to enter the country "illegally" overlooked how historically, the Chinese, like other people of colour, have had to find ways to compensate for racist and classist biases in Canada's immigration system. For example, from 1960 to 1973, Canada granted amnesty to over 12,000 "paper sons," that is, people who had immigrated under names other than their own. The granting of "legal" status to the "paper sons" who arrived before 1960 finally recognized that Canada's legislation had unfairly excluded Chinese people for decades. From 1923 to 1947, Canada's Chinese Exclusion Act had basically prevented Chinese people from entering this country. The xenophobic attitudes that gave rise to the Chinese Exclusion Act and the head tax occurred within a colonial context that privileged British migrants. Today, colonialism may no longer be as rhetorically attached to the British empire, but its patterns—particularly the globally inequitable distribution of wealth and resources—continue to accelerate through the mechanism of transnational corporations, for example. As Helene Moussa has pointed out, "the interconnections of globalisation with racist and colonialist ideology are only too clear when all evidence shows that globalisation '¼ legitimise[s] and sustain[s] an international system that tolerates an unbelievable divide not only between the North and the South but also inside them'" (2000). Moreover, according to the United Nations Development Programme, the income gap between people in the world's wealthiest nations and the poorest nations has shifted from 30:1 in 1960 to 60:1 in 1990 and to 74:1 in 1997. (Moussa 2000) As capital or electronic money moves across borders faster than ever before in what some have called the casino economy (Mander and Goldsmith), change and instability are rapidly increasing for the majority of the world's population. People are justifiably anxious about their well-being in the face of growing transnational corporate power; however, "protecting" national borders through enforcement and detention of displaced people is a form of reactive, violent, and often racist, nationalism which scapegoats the vulnerable without truly addressing the root causes of instability and migration. In short, reactive nationalism is ineffective in safe-guarding people's survival. Asserting solidarity with those who are most immediately displaced and impoverished by globalization is strategically a better way to work towards our common survival. Substantive freedom requires equitable economic relations; that is, fairly shared wealth. Canadian Response Abilities The Canadian government should take responsibility for its role in creating the conditions that displace people and force them to migrate within their countries and across borders. As a major sponsor of efforts to privatize economies and undertake environmentally devastating projects such as hydro-electric dams, Canada has played a significant role in the creation of an unemployed "floating population" in China which is estimated to reach 200 million people this year. Punitive tactics will not stop the movement of people, who migrate to survive. According to Peter Kwong, "The well-publicized Chinese government's market reforms have practically eliminated all labor laws, labour benefits and protections. In the "free enterprise zones" workers live virtually on the factory floor, laboring fourteen hours a day for a mere two dollars—that is, about 20 cents an hour" (136). As Sunera Thobani has phrased it, "What makes it alright for us to buy a t-shirt on the streets of Vancouver for $3, which was made in China, then stand up all outraged as Canadian citizens when the woman who made that t-shirt tries to come here and live with us on a basis of equality?" Canada should respond to the urgent situations which cause people to move—not only on the grounds upon which Convention refugees were defined in 1949 (race, religion, nationality, social group, political opinion) which continue to be valid—but also to strengthen Canada's system to include a contemporary understanding that all people have basic economic and environmental survival rights. Some migrants have lives that fit into the narrow definition of a UN Convention refugee and some may not. Those who do not fit this definition have nonetheless urgent needs that deserve attention. The Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives has pointed out that there are at least 18 million people working in 124 export zones in China. A living wage in China is estimated to be 87 cents per hour. Canadians benefit from these conditions of cheap labour, yet when the producers of these goods come to our shores, we hypocritically disavow any relationship with them. Responsibility in this context need not refer so much to some stern sense of duty, obligation or altruism as to a full "response"—intellectual, emotional, physical, and spiritual—that such a situation provokes in relations between those who "benefit"—materially at least—from such a system and those who do not. References Anderson, Sarah, et al. Field Guide to the Global Economy. New York: New Press, 2000. Canadian Council of Refugees. "Migrant Smuggling and Trafficking in Persons." February 20, 2000. Canadian Woman Studies: Immigrant and Refugee Women. 19.3 (Fall 1999). Chin, Ko-lin. Smuggled Chinese. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1999. Coalition for a Just Immigration and Refugee Policy. "Position Paper on Bill C31." 2000. Davis, Angela. The Angela Davis Reader. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers, 1998. Global Alliance Against Traffic in Women, Foundation Against Trafficking in Women, and International Human Rights Law Group. "Human Rights Standards for the Treatment of Trafficked Persons." January 1999. Henry, Frances and Tator, Carol. Racist Discourses in Canada's English Print Media. Toronto: Canadian Foundation for Race Relations, 2000. Jameson, Fredric and Miyoshi, Masao, Eds. The Cultures of Globalization. Durham: Duke University Press, 1998. Kwong, Peter. Forbidden Workers. New York: New Press, 1997. Mander, Jerry and Goldsmith, Edward, Eds. The Case Against the Global Economy. San Francisco: Sierra Club Books, 1996. Moussa, Helene. "The Interconnections of Globalisation and Migration with Racism and Colonialism: Tracing Complicity." 2000. ---. "Violence against Refugee Women: Gender Oppression, Canadian Policy, and the International Struggle for Human Rights." Resources for Feminist Research 26 (3-4). 1998 Migrant Forum statement (from Asia Pacific People's Assembly on APEC) 'Occasional Paper Migration: an economic and social analysis.' Pizarro, Gabriela Rodriguez. "Human Rights of Migrants." United Nations Report. Seabrook, Jeremy. "The Migrant in the Mirror." New Internationalist 327 (September 2000): 34-5. Sharma, Nandita. "The Real Snakeheads: Canadian government and corporations." Kinesis. October/November (1999): 11. Spivak, Gayatri. "Diasporas Old and New: Women in the Transnational World." Class Issues. Ed. Amitava Kumar. New York: New York University Press, 1997. States of Disarray: The Social Effects of Globalization. London: United Nations Research Institute for Social Development (UN RISD), 1995. Thobani, Sunera. "The Creation of a ‘Crisis’." Kinesis October/November (1999): 12-13. Whores, Maids and Wives: Making Links. Proceedings of the North American Regional Consultative Forum on Trafficking in Women, 1997.

In this article I discuss a story told by the South Australian Ngarrindjeri Aboriginal elder, Aunty Hilda Wilson (nee Varcoe), about the time when, at not quite sixteen, she was sent from the Point Pearce Aboriginal Station to work in the Adelaide Hills, some 500 kilometres away, as a housekeeper for “one of Adelaide’s leading doctors”. Her secondment was part of a widespread practice in early and mid-twentieth century Australia of placing young Aboriginal women “of marriageable age” from missions and government reserves into domestic service. Consciously deploying Indigenous storytelling practices as pedagogy, Hilda Wilson recounted this episode in a number of distinct ways during the late 1990s and early 2000s. Across these iterations, each building on the other, she exhibited a personal resilience in her subjectivity, embedded in Indigenous knowledge systems of relationality, kin and work, which informed her agency and determination in a challenging situation in which she was both caring for a white socially-privileged family of five, while simultaneously grappling with the injustices of a state system of segregated indentured labour. Kirmayer and colleagues propose that “notions of resilience emerging from developmental psychology and psychiatry in recent years address the distinctive cultures, geographic and social settings, and histories of adversity of indigenous peoples”. Resilience is understood here as an ability to actively engage with traumatic change, involving the capacity to absorb stress and to transform in order to cope with it (Luthar et al.). Further to this, in an Indigenous context, Marion Kickett has found the capacity for resilience to be supported by three key factors: family connections, culture and belonging as well as notions of identity and history. In exploring the layers of this autobiographical story, I employ this extended psychological notion of resilience in both a domestic ambit as well as the broader social context for Indigenous people surviving a system of external domination. Additionally I consider the resilience Aunty Hilda demonstrates at a pivotal interlude between girlhood and womanhood within the trajectory of her overall long and productive life, and within an intergenerational history of resistance and accommodation. What is especially important about her storytelling is its refusal to be contained by the imaginary of the settler nation and its generic Aboriginal-female subject. She refuses victimhood while at the same time illuminating the mechanisms of injustice, hinting also at possibilities for alternative and more equitable relationships of family and work across cultural divides. Considered through this prism, resilience is, I suggest, also a quality firmly connected to ideas of Aboriginal cultural-sovereignty and standpoint and to, what Victoria Grieves has identified as, the Aboriginal knowledge value of sharing (25, 28, 45). Storytelling as Pedagogy The story I discuss was verbally recounted in a manner that Westphalen describes as “a continuation of Dreaming Stories”, functioning to educate and connect people and country (13-14). As MacGill et al. note, “the critical and transformative aspects of decolonising pedagogies emerge from storytelling and involve the gift of narrative and the enactment of reciprocity that occurs between the listener and the storyteller.” Hilda told me that as a child she was taught not to ask questions when listening to the stories of an Elder, and her own children were raised in this manner. Hilda's oldest daughter described this as a process involving patience, intrigue and surprise (Elva Wanganeen). Narratives unfold through nuance and repetition in a complexity of layers that can generate multiple levels of meaning over time. Circularity and recursivity underlie this pedagogy through which mnemonic devices are built so that stories become re-membered and inscribed on the body of the listener. When a perceived level of knowledge-transference has occurred, a narrator may elect to elaborate further, adding another detail that will often transform the story’s social, cultural, moral or political context. Such carefully chosen additional detail, however, might re-contextualise all that has gone before. As well as being embodied, stories are also emplaced, and thus most appropriately told in the Country where events occurred. (Here I use the Aboriginal English term “Country” which encompasses home, clan estate, and the powerful complex of spiritual, animate and inanimate forces that bind people and place.) Hilda Wilson’s following account of her first job as a housekeeper for “one of Adelaide’s leading doctors”, Dr Frank Swann, provides an illustration of how she expertly uses traditional narrative forms of incrementally structured knowledge transmission within a cross-cultural setting to tell a story that expresses practices of resilience as resistance and transformation at its core. A “White Doctor” Story: The First Layer Aunty Hilda first told me this story when we were winding along the South Eastern Freeway through the Adelaide hills between Murray Bridge and Mount Barker, in 1997, on our way home to Adelaide from a trip to Camp Coorong, the Ngarrindjeri cultural education centre co-founded by her granddaughter. She was then 86 years old. Ahead of us, the profile of Mt Lofty rose out of the plains and into view. The highest peak in the Mount Lofty ranges, Yurrebilla, as it is known to Kaurna Aboriginal people, or Mt Lofty, has been an affluent enclave of white settlement for Adelaide’s moneyed elite since early colonial times. Being in place, or in view of place, provided the appropriate opportunity for her to tell me the story. It belongs to a group of stories that during our initial period of working together changed little over time until one day two years later she an added contextual detail which turned it inside out. Hilda described the doctor’s spacious hill-top residence, and her responsibilities of caring for Dr Swann’s invalid wife (“an hysteric who couldn't do anything for herself”), their twin teenage boys (who attended private college in the city) along with another son and younger daughter living at home (pers. com. Hilda Wilson). Recalling the exhilaration of looking down over the sparkling lights of Adelaide at night from this position of apparent “privilege” on the summit, she related this undeniably as a success story, justifiably taking great pride in her achievements as a teenager, capable of stepping into the place of the non-Indigenous doctor's wife in running the large and demanding household. Successfully undertaking a wide range of duties employed in the care of a family, including the disabled mother, she is an active participant crucial to the lives of all in the household, including to the work of the doctor and the twin boys in private education. Hilda recalled that Mrs Swann was unable to eat without her assistance. As the oldest daughter of a large family Hilda had previously assisted in caring for her younger siblings. Told in this way, her account collapses social distinctions, delineating a shared social and physical space, drawing its analytic frame from an Indigenous ethos of subjectivity, relationality, reciprocity and care. Moreover Hilda’s narrative of domestic service demonstrates an assertion of agency that resists colonial and patriarchal hegemony and inverts the master/mistress-servant relationship, one she firmly eschews in favour of the self-affirming role of the lady of the house. (It stands in contrast to the abuse found in other accounts for example Read, Tucker, Kartinyeri. Often the key difference was a continuity of family connections and ongoing family support.) Indeed the home transformed into a largely feminised and cross-culturalised space in which she had considerable agency and responsibility when the doctor was absent. Hilda told me this story several times in much the same way during our frequent encounters over the next two years. Each telling revealed further details that fleshed a perspective gained from what Patricia Hill Collins terms an “epistemic privilege” via her “outsider-within status” of working within a white household, lending an understanding of its social mechanisms (12-15). She also stressed the extent of her duty of care in upholding the family’s well-being, despite the work at times being too burdensome. The Second Version: Coming to Terms with Intersecting Oppressions Later, as our relationship developed and deepened, when I began to record her life-narrative as part of my doctoral work, she added an unexpected detail that altered its context completely: It was all right except I slept outside in a tin shed and it was very cold at night. Mount Lofty, by far the coldest part of Adelaide, frequently experiences winter maximum temperatures of two or three degrees and often light snowfalls. This skilful reframing draws on Indigenous storytelling pedagogy and is expressly used to invite reflexivity, opening questions that move the listener from the personal to the public realm in which domestic service and the hegemony of the home are pivotal in coming to terms with the overlapping historical oppressions of class, gender, race and nation. Suddenly we witness her subjectivity starkly shift from one self-defined and allied with an equal power relationship – or even of dependency reversal cast as “de-facto doctor's wife” – to one diminished by inequity and power imbalance in the outsider-defined role of “mistreated servant”. The latter was signalled by the dramatic addition of a single signifying detail as a decoding device to a deeper layer of meaning. In this parallel stratum of the story, Hilda purposefully brings into relief the politics in which “the private domain of women's housework intersected with the public domain of governmental social engineering policies” (Haskins 4). As Aileen Moreton-Robinson points out, what for White Australia was cheap labour and a civilising mission, for Indigenous women constituted stolen children and slavery. Protection and then assimilation were government policies under which Indigenous women grew up. (96) Hilda was sent away from her family to work in 1927 by the universally-feared Sister Pearl McKenzie, a nurse who too-zealously (Katinyeri, Ngarrindjeri Calling, 23) oversaw the Chief Protector’s policies of “training” Aboriginal children from the South Australian missions in white homes once they reached fourteen (Haebich, 316—20). Indeed many prominent Adelaide hills’ families benefited from Aboriginal labour under this arrangement. Hilda explained her struggle with the immense cultural dislocation that removal into domestic service entailed, a removal her grandfather William Rankine had travelled from Raukkan to Government House to protest against less than a decade earlier (The Register December 21, 1923). This additional layer of story also illuminates Hilda’s capacity for resilience and persistence in finding a way forward through the challenge of her circumstances (Luthar et al.), drawing on her family networks and sense of personhood (Kickett). Hilda related that her father visited her at Mount Lofty twice, though briefly, on his way to shearing jobs in the south-east of the state. “He said it was no good me living like this,” she stated. Through his active intervention, reinforcement was requested and another teenager from Point Pearce, Hilda’s future husband’s cousin, Annie Sansbury, soon arrived to share the workload. But, Hilda explained, the onerous expectations coupled with the cultural segregation of retiring to the tin shed quickly became too much for Annie, who stayed only three months, leaving Hilda coping again alone, until her father applied additional pressure for a more suitable placement to be found for his daughter. In her next position, working for the family of a racehorse trainer, Hilda contentedly shared the bedroom with the small boy for whom she cared, and not long after returned to Point Pearce where she married Robert Wilson and began a family of her own. Gendered Resilience across Cultural Divides Hilda explicitly speaks into these spaces to educate me, because all but a few white women involved have remained silent about their complicity with state sanctioned practices which exploited Indigenous labour and removed children from their families through the policies of protection and assimilation. For Indigenous women, speaking out was often fraught with the danger of a deeper removal from family and Country, even of disappearance. Victoria Haskins writes extensively of two cases in New South Wales where young Aboriginal women whose protests concerning their brutal treatment at the hands of white employers, resulted in their wrongful and prolonged committal to mental health and other institutions (147-52, 228-39). In the indentured service of Indigenous women it is possible to see oppression operating through Eurocentric ideologies of race, class and gender, in which Indigenous women were assumed to take on, through displacement, the more oppressed role of white women in pre-second world war non-Aboriginal Australian society. The troubling silent shadow-figure of the “doctor’s wife” indeed provides a haunting symbol of - and also a forceful rebellion against – the docile upper middle-class white femininity of the inter-war era. Susan Bordo has argued that that “the hysteric” is archetypal of a discourse of ‘pathology as embodied protest’ in which the body may […] be viewed as a surface on which conventional constructions of femininity are exposed starkly to view in extreme or hyperliteral form. (20) Mrs Swann’s vulnerability contrasts markedly with the strength Hilda expresses in coping with a large family, emanating from a history of equitable gender relations characteristic of Ngarrindjeri society (Bell). The intersection of race and gender, as Marcia Langton contends “continues to require deconstruction to allow us to decolonise our consciousness” (54). From Hilda’s brief description one grasps a relationship resonant with that between the protagonists in Tracy Moffat's Night Cries, (a response to the overt maternalism in the film Jedda) in which the white mother finds herself utterly reliant on her “adopted” Aboriginal daughter at the end of her life (46-7). Resilience and Survival The different versions of story Hilda deploys, provide a pedagogical basis to understanding the broader socio-political framework of her overall life narrative in which an ability to draw on the cultural continuity of the past to transform the future forms an underlying dynamic. This demonstrated capacity to meet the challenging conditions thrown up by the settler-colonial state has its foundations in the connectivity and cultural strength sustained generationally in her family. Resilience moves from being individually to socially determined, as in Kickett’s model. During the onslaught of dispossession, following South Australia’s 1836 colonial invasion, Ngarrindjeri were left near-starving and decimated from introduced diseases. Pullume (c1808-1888), the rupuli (elected leader of the Ngarrindjeri Tendi, or parliament), Hilda’s third generation great-grandfather, decisively steered his people through the traumatic changes, eventually negotiating a middle-path after the Point McLeay Mission was established on Ngarrindjeri country in 1859 (Jenkin, 59). Pullume’s granddaughter, the accomplished, independent-thinking Ellen Sumner (1842—1925), played an influential educative role during Hilda’s youth. Like other Ngarrindjeri women in her lineage, Ellen Sumner was skilled in putari practice (female doctor) and midwifery culture that extended to a duty of care concerning women and children (teaching her “what to do and what not to do”), which I suggest is something Hilda herself drew from when working with the Swann family. Hilda’s mother and aunties continued aspects of the putari tradition, attending births and giving instruction to women in the community (Bell, 171, Hughes Grandmother, 52-4). As mentioned earlier, when the South Australian government moved to introduce The Training of Children Act (SA) Hilda’s maternal grandfather William Rankine campaigned vigorously against this, taking a petition to the SA Governor in December 1923 (Haebich, 315-19). As with Aunty Hilda, William Rankine used storytelling as a method to draw public attention to the inequities of his times in an interview with The Register which drew on his life-narrative (Hughes, My Grandmother, 61). Hilda’s father Wilfred Varcoe, a Barngarrla-Wirrungu man, almost a thousand kilometres away from his Poonindie birthplace, resisted assimilation by actively pursuing traditional knowledge networks using his mobility as a highly sought after shearer to link up with related Elders in the shearing camps, (and as we saw to inspect the conditions his daughter was working under at Mt Lofty). The period Hilda spent as a servant to white families to be trained in white ways was in fact only a brief interlude in a long life in which family connections, culture and belonging (Kickett) served as the backbone of her resilience and resistance. On returning to the Point Pearce Mission, Hilda successfully raised a large family and activated a range of community initiatives that fostered well-being. In the 1960s she moved to Adelaide, initially as the sole provider of her family (her husband later followed), to give her younger children better educational opportunities. Working with Aunty Gladys Elphick OBE through the Council of Aboriginal Women, she played a foundational role in assisting other Aboriginal women establish their families in the city (Mattingly et al., 154, Fisher). In Adelaide, Aunty Hilda became an influential, much loved Elder, living in good health to the age of ninety-six years. The ability to survive changing circumstances, to extend care over and over to her children and Elders along with qualities of leadership, determination, agency and resilience have passed down through her family, several of whom have become successful in public life. These include her great-grandson and former AFL football player, Michael O’Loughlin, her great-nephew Adam Goodes and her-grand-daughter, the cultural weaver Aunty Ellen Trevorrow. Arguably, resilience contributes to physical as well as cultural longevity, through caring for the self and others. Conclusion This story demonstrates how sociocultural dimensions of resilience are contextualised in practices of everyday lives. We see this in the way that Aunty Hilda Wilson’s self-narrated story resolutely defies attempts to know, subjugate and categorise, operating instead in accord with distinctively Aboriginal expressions of gender and kinship relations that constitute an Aboriginal sovereignty. Her storytelling activates a revision of collective history in ways that valorise Indigenous identity (Kirmayer et al.). Her narrative of agency and personal achievement, one that has sustained her through life, interacts with the larger narrative of state-endorsed exploitation, diffusing its power and exposing it to wider moral scrutiny. Resilience in this context is inextricably entwined with practices of cultural survival and resistance developed in response to the introduction of government policies and the encroachment of settlers and their world. We see resilience too operating across Hilda Wilson’s family history, and throughout her long life. The agency and strategies displayed suggest alternative realities and imagine other, usually more equitable, possible worlds. References Bell, Diane. Ngarrindjeri Wurruwarrin: A World That Is, Was and Will Be. Melbourne: Spinifex, 1998. Bordo, Susan. “The Body and the Reproduction of Femininity.” Writing on the Body: Female Embodiment and Feminist Theory. Eds. Katie Conboy, Nadia Medina, and Sarah Stanbury. New York: Columbia UP, 1997. 90-110. Collins, Patricia Hill. Black Feminist Thought. New York: Routledge, 2000. Fisher, Elizabeth M. "Elphick, Gladys (1904–1988)." Australian Dictionary of Biography. National Centre of Biography, Australian National University, 29 Sep. 2013. ‹http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/elphick-gladys-12460/text22411>. Grieves, Victoria. Aboriginal Spirituality: Aboriginal Philosophy, The Basis of Aboriginal Social and Emotional Wellbeing, Melbourne University: Cooperative Research Centre for Aboriginal Health, 2009. Haebich, Anna. Broken Circles: The Fragmenting of Indigenous Families. Fremantle: Fremantle Arts Press, 2000. Haskins, Victoria. My One Bright Spot. London: Palgrave, 2005. Hughes, Karen. "My Grandmother on the Other Side of the Lake." PhD thesis, Department of Australian Studies and Department of History, Flinders University. Adelaide, 2009. ———. “Microhistories and Things That Matter.” Australian Feminist Studies 27.73 (2012): 269-278. ———. “I’d Grown Up as a Child amongst Natives.” Outskirts: Feminisms along the Edge 28 (2013). 29 Sep. 2013 ‹http://www.outskirts.arts.uwa.edu.au/volumes/volume-28/karen-hughes>. Jenkin, Graham. Conquest of the Ngarrindjeri. Adelaide: Rigby, 1979. Kartinyeri, Doris. Kick the Tin. Melbourne: Spinifex, 2000. Kartinyeri, Doreen. My Ngarrindjeri Calling, Adelaide: Wakefield, 2007. Kickett, Marion. “Examination of How a Culturally Appropriate Definition of Resilience Affects the Physical and Mental Health of Aboriginal People.” PhD thesis, Curtin University, 2012. Kirmayer, L.J., S. Dandeneau, E. Marshall, M.K. Phillips, K. Jenssen Williamson. “Rethinking Resilience from Indigenous Perspectives.” Canadian Journal of Psychiatry 56.2 (2011): 84-91. Luthar, S., D. Cicchetti, and B. Becker. “The Construct of Resilience: A Critical Evaluation and Guidelines for Future Work.” Child Development 71.3 (2000): 543-62. MacGill, Bindi, Julie Mathews, Ellen Trevorrow, Alice Abdulla, and Deb Rankine. “Ecology, Ontology, and Pedagogy at Camp Coorong,” M/C Journal 15.3 (2012). Mattingly, Christobel, and Ken Hampton. Survival in Our Own Land, Adelaide: Wakefield, 1988. Moreton-Robinson, Aileen. Talkin’ Up to the White Woman. St Lucia: UQP, 2000. Night Cries, A Rural Tragedy. Dir. Tracy Moffatt. Chili Films, 1990. Read, Peter. A Rape of the Soul So Profound. Crows Nest: Allen & Unwin, 2002. Tucker, Margaret. If Everyone Cared. Sydney: Ure Smith, 1977. Wanganeen, Elva. Personal Communication, 2000. Westphalen, Linda. An Anthropological and Literary Study of Two Aboriginal Women's Life Histories: The Impacts of Enforced Child Removal and Policies of Assimilation. New York: Mellen Press, 2011.

This paper investigates linkages between two apparently disparate government initiatives. Together they function symbolically to maintain Australia’s moral order by excluding filth, keeping personal and national boundaries tight and borders secure. The Commonwealth government recently set aside over five million dollars to improve continence in the Australian population (incontinence is the inability to control movements of the bowel or bladder, producing leakage of filth in the form of urine and faeces). The Strategy funded research into prevalence rates, treatment strategies, doctor education, a public toilet mapping exercise, and public awareness through a telephone helpline and patient information pamphlets. Almost simultaneously with the continence initiative, concerns over the influx of asylum seekers to Australia lead the federal government to focus more resources on strengthening Australia’s border protection. This paper explores the two phenomena of personal and national boundary maintenance as aspects of classification dilemmas based in conceptions of filth, pollution and cleaning rituals. Continence and Boundary Maintenance Elias has pointed out that the development of rules of decorum around bodily control was the very essence of ‘the civilizing process’ in Western cultures. Currently, we see bodily control as a prerequisite for becoming an adult, and the loss of control is a sign of a loss of responsible adulthood, a ‘spoiled identity’ (Goffman; Murcott; Hepworth). However, Foucault pointed out that the body, through the imposition of the State and the medical profession, has become a target for self-work, resulting not in self-empowerment but in subjection. Through the ‘new micro-physics of power’ (Foucault 139), the bladder and pelvic floor have become sites in need of control. Analysis of discourses around incontinence, both in the public and private spheres, indicate a concern with issues of control and agency, particularly the moral imperative to be in control of one’s body and the feelings of incompetence produced by the loss of control. Incompetence, self blame and guilt are evident in sufferers’ talk about their condition (Tilbury et al.; Murcott). The negativity surrounding incontinence is connected with the construction of urine and faeces as filth – but is this construction of dirtiness ‘natural? Mary Douglas argued that cultural classification creates the order of social life and has an inherently moral dimension. A consequence is that things which cross categorical boundaries are impure and therefore dangerous, because they threaten the rules of classification. Douglas suggested that there is nothing inherent in ‘unclean’ things which make them dirty. Soil in the garden is ‘clean’ whereas on the carpet it is ‘dirty’, spaghetti on a plate is clean, but on your trousers it is dirty. Douglas concluded that dirtiness is not about the stuff itself, but about it being in the wrong location. We are left with the very old definition of dirt as matter out of place. This is a very suggestive approach. It implies two conditions: a set of ordered relations and a contravention of that order. … Dirt is the by-product of a systematic ordering and classification of matter, in so far as ordering involves rejecting inappropriate elements (Douglas 48). Like the fear of deviance generally, fear of pollution by ‘dirty’ things is strongly emotive because of its threat to the larger moral order. In the same way that moral panics, scapegoating, and witch hunts occur where there is a threat to the collectivity’s boundaries, clean-ups are in order where there is a perceived social crisis which threatens social classification and order. They serve as purges, drawing attention to the violated moral order, and to the State’s ability to secure it. Cleaning rituals function symbolically to reaffirm the social order. Thus, an insistence on continence is symbolic of something deeper than a fear of infection from leaking urine and faeces. Douglas suggests that issues of dirt and cleanliness in relation to the human body are actually about wider social concerns. The body is a tabula rasa on which the concerns of society are writ small. The biological body is a symbol of the social body. Elias argued bodily control and social control are linked – for example we are careful to control publicly bodily functions such as farting, belching and yawning. Now if bodies serve as symbols of society, then concern over group boundaries will be expressed symbolically as concerns over bodily boundaries. Bodily orifices, those entrances and exits which define the boundaries of the body most obviously, become sites of some significance, and those dirty things which traverse these openings/closings challenge and destabilize the system of categorization which society holds sacrosanct. But why, one might ask, the recent concern over bodily boundaries? Continents and Border Protection On the ABC’s 7.30 Report (20 June 2002) anchor Kerry O’Brien introduced a story about ‘the migrant problem’ in the Netherlands with a comment about the Dutch desire to control the ‘flooding’ in of refugees through their ‘weakening borders’ and noted the growing public concern to ‘seal their leaking border’. While such imagery obviously references the story of ‘the little Dutch boy and the dike’, it was directly relevant to Australian audiences because Australia was in the midst of its own ‘refugee crisis’ (see Saxton; Manne; Pickering; Gelber). The ‘Tampa crisis’, in September 2001, saw a Norwegian freighter, the Tampa, rescue 433 asylum seekers from their sinking boat which was headed for Australia. Australia denied the Tampa permission to enter its waters and ports, so it was left out to sea for days, while the Australian government negotiated a face saving solution to the problem. This was the ‘Pacific solution’ – whereby asylum seekers are moved to nearby Pacific nations to be ‘processed’ off shore, in exchange for monetary incentive to these struggling economies. Asylum seekers were demonized by the press and by politicians for threatening to throw themselves and their children overboard. Prime Minister John Howard suggested some were likely to be terrorists, and the then Minister of Immigration Philip Ruddock asked the rhetorical question: ‘Are these the sort of people we want as Australians?’ Discursive analyses of media coverage (news reports, opinion columns and letters to the editor) of the arrival of asylum seekers indicate that they were represented as illegal, illegitimate and threatening (Saxton), and constructed as deviant in a variety of ways, including being diseased (Pickering). The language used to describe the ‘threat’ is revealing: terms such as ‘swamped’, ‘awash’, ‘latest waves’, ‘more waves’, ‘tides’, ‘floods’ and ‘migratory flood’ (Pickering 172). Most importantly, a ‘national rights’ discourse emerged, asserting Australia’s authority over its physical and cultural space, and its right to ‘protect its territory and character’ (Saxton 111) from potentially polluting pariahs, the excrement of other nations, refugees. The net result of these activities was the putting in place of a series of emergency measures to ensure Australia’s borders were ‘protected’, including moving the legal definition of borders, rigorous enforcement of imprisonment in detention centres, providing a two thousand dollar incentive to return to their countries of origin, and increased sea and air surveillance. Recent moves by the government to make seeking asylum more difficult have continued this trend. Continents and Continence Now what do incontinence and the Tampa crisis have in common? Obviously both are attempts to contain filth, ensuring boundary maintenance of the individual and the national body. The desire of the Australian government to clarify Australia’s boundaries by reducing them to its mainland is indicative of a concern with keeping national boundaries precise and clear. The threat of breaches from outside spurs this attempt to ensure closure, but it is simultaneously evidence of the fear of violation. Australia’s attempts at boundary maintenance are forms of ‘pollution rituals’ designed to maintain the definition of Australia as the domain of white Anglo-Saxon Christians (Hage; Saxton; Pickering). Being racially, ethnically and religiously different, asylum seekers challenge cherished notions of what ‘we’ Australians are – they are matter-out-of-place, challenging the integrity of the nation. As Pickering notes: ‘Asylum seekers transgress many boundaries: physical, geographic, language, legal, national, social and political. In so doing they routinely disrupt established, although precarious, orders’ (Pickering 170). The ‘breach’ panic, and consequent attempts to fortify ‘fortress Australia’, function symbolically to reaffirm the social order and maintain the classification of in-group and out-group. Conclusion The parallels drawn between these two initiatives are not meant to assert a causal relationship, but rather a form of ‘elective affinity’ (Weber). Thus, my argument is rather more than a recognition of the ways in which body metaphors are used as ‘convenient way[s] for talking or thinking about the moral and political problems of society’ (Turner 1), but less than a suggestion that one is in a direct causal relationship to the other. If pollution behaviour is that which condemns objects or ideas which might confuse cherished classifications, then government attempts to keep national boundaries contained and bodies secure are both examples of pollution behaviours. The National Continence Management Strategy and the concerns about Australia’s border protection are both symbolic manifestations of the same concern over unsealed boundaries and boundary crossings. Both result from a barely contained hysteria manifest in a fear of things coming in, and things going out, and a frustrated recognition of the impossibility of keeping entries and exits secure. The National Continence Management strategy mirrors the macro concerns over boundary maintenance and security. The tightening up of movements of matter across bodies, and movements of people across nations, are signs of attempts to control identity. But from whence has this concern arisen? One possibility is the general destabilising of national identities resulting from the broad postmodern recognition of hybridity and fluidity in the construction and maintenance of identity. A specific example of this is the fact that while Australia has long been proud of its identity as a white nation of the Antipodes, at the same time it is developing an identity as multicultural. The traditional values of white society are being challenged and the resulting destabilization is threatening (Hage; Ang; Phillips). Postmodern constructions of identity as contextual, fuzzy, and open ended, destabilize identity as singular and unproblematic. Hall and du Gay, Bhabha, and others have noted the discomfort attendant on a version of identity which is hybrid and liminal, which challenges the notion that categories are clear cut and people are either ‘in’ or ‘out’. This discomfort results in the need to shore up individual and national identities through efforts to define and maintain boundaries and to contain them – in essence to re-establish and defend ‘fortress Australia’ by containing matter in its proper place, and excluding filth. References Bhabha, Homi, ed. Nation and Narration. London: Routledge, 1990. Douglas, Mary. Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1966. Elias, Norbert. The Civilizing Process. Trans. E. Jephcott. Oxford: Blackwell, 1994. Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. Trans A. Sheridan. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1979. Gelber, Katherine. “A Fair Queue? Australian Public Discourse on Refugees and Immigration.” Journal of Australian Studies 1 March 2003: 23-30. Goffman, Erving. Stigma: Notes on the Management of Spoiled Identity. New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, 1963. Hage, Ghassan. White Nation: Fantasies of White Supremacy in a Multicultural Society. Annendale NSW: Pluto Press, 1998. Hall, Stuart, and Paul du Gay, eds. Questions of Cultural Identity. London: Sage, 1996. Hepworth, Mike. Stories of Ageing. Buckingham: Open University Press, 2000. Manne, Robert, with David Corlett. “Sending them Home: Refugees and the New Politics of Indifference.” Quarterly Essay 13. Melbourne: Black, 2004. Murcott, Anne. “Purity and Pollution: Body Management and the Social Place of Infancy.” In Sue Scott and David Morgan, eds. Body Matters. London: The Falmer Press, 1993. Pickering, Sharon. “Common Sense and Original Deviancy: News Discourses and Asylum Seekers in Australia.” Journal of Refugee Studies 14.2 (2001):169-86. Saxton, Alison. “‘I Certainly Don’t Want People like That Here’: The Discursive Construction of Asylum Seekers.” Media International Australia Incorporating Culture and Policy 109 (Nov. 2003): 109-20. Tilbury, Farida, Pradeep Jayasuriya, Jan Taylor, and Liz Williams. Continence Care in the Community. Report to Department of Health and Aged Care, 2001. Turner, Bryan. “Social Fluids: Metaphors and Meanings in Society.” Body and Society 9.1 (2003): 1-10. Turner, Bryan, with Colin Samson. Medical Power and Social Knowledge. London: Sage, 1996. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Tilbury, Farida. "Filth, Incontinence and Border Protection." M/C Journal 9.5 (2006). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0610/06-tilbury.php>. APA Style Tilbury, F. (Nov. 2006) "Filth, Incontinence and Border Protection," M/C Journal, 9(5). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0610/06-tilbury.php>.

This article explores resilience as it is experienced by refugees in the context of a relational community, visiting the notions of trauma, a thicker description of resilience and the trajectory toward positive growth through community. It calls for going beyond a Western biomedical therapeutic approach of exploration and adopting more of an emic perspective incorporating the worldview of the refugees. The challenge is for service providers working with refugees (who have experienced trauma) to move forward from a ‘harm minimisation’ model of care to recognition of a facilitative, productive community of people who are in a transitional phase between homelands. Contextualising Trauma Prior to the 1980s, the term ‘trauma’ was not widely used in literature on refugees and refugee mental health, hardly existing as a topic of inquiry until the mid-1980’s (Summerfield 422). It first gained prominence in relation to soldiers who had returned from Vietnam and in need of medical attention after being traumatised by war. The term then expanded to include victims of wars and those who had witnessed traumatic events. Seahorn and Seahorn outline that severe trauma “paralyses you with numbness and uses denial, avoidance, isolation as coping mechanisms so you don’t have to deal with your memories”, impacting a person‘s ability to risk being connected to others, detaching and withdrawing; resulting in extreme loneliness, emptiness, sadness, anxiety and depression (6). During the Civil War in the USA the impact of trauma was referred to as Irritable Heart and then World War I and II referred to it as Shell Shock, Neurosis, Combat Fatigue, or Combat Exhaustion (Seahorn & Seahorn 66, 67). During the twenty-five years following the Vietnam War, the medicalisation of trauma intensified and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) became recognised as a medical-psychiatric disorder in 1980 in the American Psychiatric Association international diagnostic tool Diagnostic Statistical Manual (DSM–III). An expanded description and diagnosis of PTSD appears in the DSM-IV, influenced by the writings of Harvard psychologist and scholar, Judith Herman (Scheper-Hughes 38) The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM-IV) of Mental Disorders (American Psychiatric Association, 2000) outlines that experiencing the threat of death, injury to oneself or another or finding out about an unexpected or violent death, serious harm, or threat of the same kind to a family member or close person are considered traumatic events (Chung 11); including domestic violence, incest and rape (Scheper-Hughes 38). Another significant development in the medicalisation of trauma occurred in 1998 when the Victorian Foundation for Survivors of Torture (VFST) released an influential report titled ‘Rebuilding Shattered Lives’. This then gave clinical practice a clearer direction in helping people who had experienced war, trauma and forced migration by providing a framework for therapeutic work. The emphasis became strongly linked to personal recovery of individuals suffering trauma, using case management as the preferred intervention strategy. A whole industry soon developed around medical intervention treating people suffering from trauma related problems (Eyber). Though there was increased recognition for the medicalised discourse of trauma and post-traumatic stress, there was critique of an over-reliance of psychiatric models of trauma (Bracken, et al. 15, Summerfield 421, 423). There was also expressed concern that an overemphasis on individual recovery overlooked the socio-political aspects that amplify trauma (Bracken et al. 8). The DSM-IV criteria for PTSD model began to be questioned regarding the category of symptoms being culturally defined from a Western perspective. Weiss et al. assert that large numbers of traumatized people also did not meet the DSM-III-R criteria for PTSD (366). To categorize refugees’ experiences into recognizable, generalisable psychological conditions overlooked a more localized culturally specific understanding of trauma. The meanings given to collective experience and the healing strategies vary across different socio-cultural groupings (Eyber). For example, some people interpret suffering as a normal part of life in bringing them closer to God and in helping gain a better understanding of the level of trauma in the lives of others. Scheper-Hughes raise concern that the PTSD model is “based on a conception of human nature and human life as fundamentally vulnerable, frail, and humans as endowed with few and faulty defence mechanisms”, and underestimates the human capacity to not only survive but to thrive during and following adversity (37, 42). As a helping modality, biomedical intervention may have limitations through its lack of focus regarding people’s agency, coping strategies and local cultural understandings of distress (Eyber). The benefits of a Western therapeutic model might be minimal when some may have their own culturally relevant coping strategies that may vary to Western models. Bracken et al. document case studies where the burial rituals in Mozambique, obligations to the dead in Cambodia, shared solidarity in prison and the mending of relationships after rape in Uganda all contributed to the healing process of distress (8). Orosa et al. (1) asserts that belief systems have contributed in helping refugees deal with trauma; Brune et al. (1) points to belief systems being a protective factor against post-traumatic disorders; and Peres et al. highlight that a religious worldview gives hope, purpose and meaning within suffering. Adopting a Thicker Description of Resilience Service providers working with refugees often talk of refugees as ‘vulnerable’ or ‘at risk’ populations and strive for ‘harm minimisation’ among the population within their care. This follows a critical psychological tradition, what (Ungar, Constructionist) refers to as a positivist mode of inquiry that emphasises the predictable relationship between risk and protective factors (risk and coping strategies) being based on a ‘deficient’ outlook rather than a ‘future potential’ viewpoint and lacking reference to notions of resilience or self-empowerment (342). At-risk discourses tend to focus upon antisocial behaviours and appropriate treatment for relieving suffering rather than cultural competencies that may be developing in the midst of challenging circumstances. Mares and Newman document how the lives of many refugee advocates have been changed through the relational contribution asylum seekers have made personally to them in an Australian context (159). Individuals may find meaning in communal obligations, contributing to the lives of others and a heightened solidarity (Wilson 42, 44) in contrast to an individual striving for happiness and self-fulfilment. Early naturalistic accounts of mental health, influenced by the traditions of Western psychology, presented thin descriptions of resilience as a quality innate to individuals that made them invulnerable or strong, despite exposure to substantial risk (Ungar, Thicker 91). The interest then moved towards a non-naturalistic contextually relevant understanding of resilience viewed in the social context of people’s lives. Authors such as Benson, Tricket and Birman (qtd. in Ungar, Thicker) started focusing upon community resilience, community capacity and asset-building communities; looking at areas such as - “spending time with friends, exercising control over aspects of their lives, seeking meaningful involvement in their community, attaching to others and avoiding threats to self-esteem” (91). In so doing far more emphasis was given in developing what Ungar (Thicker) refers to as ‘a thicker description of resilience’ as it relates to the lives of refugees that considers more than an ability to survive and thrive or an internal psychological state of wellbeing (89). Ungar (Thicker) describes a thicker description of resilience as revealing “a seamless set of negotiations between individuals who take initiative, and an environment with crisscrossing resources that impact one on the other in endless and unpredictable combinations” (95). A thicker description of resilience means adopting more of what Eyber proposes as an emic approach, taking on an ‘insider perspective’, incorporating the worldview of the people experiencing the distress; in contrast to an etic perspective using a Western biomedical understanding of distress, examined from a position outside the social or cultural system in which it takes place. Drawing on a more anthropological tradition, intervention is able to be built with local resources and strategies that people can utilize with attention being given to cultural traditions within a socio-cultural understanding. Developing an emic approach is to engage in intercultural dialogue, raise dilemmas, test assumptions, document hopes and beliefs and explore their implications. Under this approach, healing is more about developing intelligibility through one’s own cultural and social matrix (Bracken, qtd. in Westoby and Ingamells 1767). This then moves beyond using a Western therapeutic approach of exploration which may draw on the rhetoric of resilience, but the coping strategies of the vulnerable are often disempowered through adopting a ‘therapy culture’ (Furedi, qtd. in Westoby and Ingamells 1769). Westoby and Ingamells point out that the danger is by using a “therapeutic gaze that interprets emotions through the prism of disease and pathology”, it then “replaces a socio-political interpretation of situations” (1769). This is not to dismiss the importance of restoring individual well-being, but to broaden the approach adopted in contextualising it within a socio-cultural frame. The Relational Aspect of Resilience Previously, the concept of the ‘resilient individual’ has been of interest within the psychological and self-help literature (Garmezy, qtd. in Wilson) giving weight to the aspect of it being an innate trait that individuals possess or harness (258). Yet there is a need to explore the relational aspect of resilience as it is embedded in the network of relationships within social settings. A person’s identity and well-being is better understood in observing their capacity to manage their responses to adverse circumstances in an interpersonal community through the networks of relationships. Brison, highlights the collective strength of individuals in social networks and the importance of social support in the process of recovery from trauma, that the self is vulnerable to be affected by violence but resilient to be reconstructed through the help of others (qtd. in Wilson 125). This calls for what Wilson refers to as a more interdisciplinary perspective drawing on cultural studies and sociology (2). It also acknowledges that although individual traits influence the action of resilience, it can be learned and developed in adverse situations through social interactions. To date, within sociology and cultural studies, there is not a well-developed perspective on the topic of resilience. Resilience involves a complex ongoing interaction between individuals and their social worlds (Wilson 16) that helps them make sense of their world and adjust to the context of resettlement. It includes developing a perspective of people drawing upon negative experiences as productive cultural resources for growth, which involves seeing themselves as agents of their own future rather than suffering from a sense of victimhood (Wilson 46, 258). Wilson further outlines the display of a resilience-related capacity to positively interpret and derive meaning from what might have been otherwise negative migration experiences (Wilson 47). Wu refers to ‘imagineering’ alternative futures, for people to see beyond the current adverse circumstances and to imagine other possibilities. People respond to and navigate their experience of trauma in unique, unexpected and productive ways (Wilson 29). Trauma can cripple individual potential and yet individuals can also learn to turn such an experience into a positive, productive resource for personal growth. Grief, despair and powerlessness can be channelled into hope for improved life opportunities. Social networks can act as protection against adversity and trauma; meaningful interpersonal relationships and a sense of belonging assist individuals in recovering from emotional strain. Wilson asserts that social capabilities assist people in turning what would otherwise be negative experiences into productive cultural resources (13). Graybeal (238) and Saleeby (297) explore resilience as a strength-based practice, where individuals, families and communities are seen in relation to their capacities, talents, competencies, possibilities, visions, values and hopes; rather than through their deficiencies, pathologies or disorders. This does not present an idea of invulnerability to adversity but points to resources for navigating adversity. Resilience is not merely an individual trait or a set of intrinsic behaviours that can be displayed in ‘resilient individuals’. Resilience, rather than being an unchanging attribute, is a complex socio-cultural phenomenon, a relational concept of a dynamic nature that is situated in interpersonal relations (Wilson 258). Positive Growth through a Community Based Approach Through migrating to another country (in the context of refugees), Falicov, points out that people often experience a profound loss of their social network and cultural roots, resulting in a sense of homelessness between two worlds, belonging to neither (qtd. in Walsh 220). In the ideological narratives of refugee movements and diasporas, the exile present may be collectively portrayed as a liminality, outside normal time and place, a passage between past and future (Eastmond 255). The concept of the ‘liminal’ was popularised by Victor Turner, who proposed that different kinds of marginalised people and communities go through phases of separation, ‘liminali’ (state of limbo) and reincorporation (qtd. in Tofighian 101). Difficulties arise when there is no closure of the liminal period (fleeing their former country and yet not being able to integrate in the country of destination). If there is no reincorporation into mainstream society then people become unsettled and feel displaced. This has implications for their sense of identity as they suffer from possible cultural destabilisation, not being able to integrate into the host society. The loss of social supports may be especially severe and long-lasting in the context of displacement. In gaining an understanding of resilience in the context of displacement, it is important to consider social settings and person-environment transactions as displaced people seek to experience a sense of community in alternative ways. Mays proposed that alternative forms of community are central to community survival and resilience. Community is a source of wellbeing for building and strengthening positive relations and networks (Mays 590). Cottrell, uses the concept of ‘community competence’, where a community provides opportunities and conditions that enable groups to navigate their problems and develop capacity and resourcefulness to cope positively with adversity (qtd. in Sonn and Fisher 4, 5). Chaskin, sees community as a resilient entity, countering adversity and promoting the well-being of its members (qtd. in Canavan 6). As a point of departure from the concept of community in the conventional sense, I am interested in what Ahmed and Fortier state as moments or sites of connection between people who would normally not have such connection (254). The participants may come together without any presumptions of ‘being in common’ or ‘being uncommon’ (Ahmed and Fortier 254). This community shows little differentiation between those who are welcome and those who are not in the demarcation of the boundaries of community. The community I refer to presents the idea as ‘common ground’ rather than commonality. Ahmed and Fortier make reference to a ‘moral community’, a “community of care and responsibility, where members readily acknowledge the ‘social obligations’ and willingness to assist the other” (Home office, qtd. in Ahmed and Fortier 253). Ahmed and Fortier note that strong communities produce caring citizens who ensure the future of caring communities (253). Community can also be referred to as the ‘soul’, something that stems out of the struggle that creates a sense of solidarity and cohesion among group members (Keil, qtd. in Sonn and Fisher 17). Often shared experiences of despair can intensify connections between people. These settings modify the impact of oppression through people maintaining positive experiences of belonging and develop a positive sense of identity. This has enabled people to hold onto and reconstruct the sociocultural supplies that have come under threat (Sonn and Fisher 17). People are able to feel valued as human beings, form positive attachments, experience community, a sense of belonging, reconstruct group identities and develop skills to cope with the outside world (Sonn and Fisher, 20). Community networks are significant in contributing to personal transformation. Walsh states that “community networks can be essential resources in trauma recovery when their strengths and potential are mobilised” (208). Walsh also points out that the suffering and struggle to recover after a traumatic experience often results in remarkable transformation and positive growth (208). Studies in post-traumatic growth (Calhoun & Tedeschi) have found positive changes such as: the emergence of new opportunities, the formation of deeper relationships and compassion for others, feelings strengthened to meet future life challenges, reordered priorities, fuller appreciation of life and a deepening spirituality (in Walsh 208). As Walsh explains “The effects of trauma depend greatly on whether those wounded can seek comfort, reassurance and safety with others. Strong connections with trust that others will be there for them when needed, counteract feelings of insecurity, hopelessness, and meaninglessness” (208). Wilson (256) developed a new paradigm in shifting the focus from an individualised approach to trauma recovery, to a community-based approach in his research of young Sudanese refugees. Rutter and Walsh, stress that mental health professionals can best foster trauma recovery by shifting from a predominantly individual pathology focus to other treatment approaches, utilising communities as a capacity for healing and resilience (qtd. in Walsh 208). Walsh highlights that “coming to terms with traumatic loss involves making meaning of the trauma experience, putting it in perspective, and weaving the experience of loss and recovery into the fabric of individual and collective identity and life passage” (210). Landau and Saul, have found that community resilience involves building community and enhancing social connectedness by strengthening the system of social support, coalition building and information and resource sharing, collective storytelling, and re-establishing the rhythms and routines of life (qtd. in Walsh 219). Bracken et al. suggest that one of the fundamental principles in recovery over time is intrinsically linked to reconstruction of social networks (15). This is not expecting resolution in some complete ‘once and for all’ getting over it, getting closure of something, or simply recovering and moving on, but tapping into a collective recovery approach, being a gradual process over time. Conclusion A focus on biomedical intervention using a biomedical understanding of distress may be limiting as a helping modality for refugees. Such an approach can undermine peoples’ agency, coping strategies and local cultural understandings of distress. Drawing on sociology and cultural studies, utilising a more emic approach, brings new insights to understanding resilience and how people respond to trauma in unique, unexpected and productive ways for positive personal growth while navigating the experience. This includes considering social settings and person-environment transactions in gaining an understanding of resilience. Although individual traits influence the action of resilience, it can be learned and developed in adverse situations through social interactions. Social networks and capabilities can act as a protection against adversity and trauma, assisting people to turn what would otherwise be negative experiences into productive cultural resources (Wilson 13) for improved life opportunities. The promotion of social competence is viewed as a preventative intervention to promote resilient outcomes, as social skill facilitates social integration (Nettles and Mason 363). As Wilson (258) asserts that resilience is not merely an individual trait or a set of intrinsic behaviours that ‘resilient individuals’ display; it is a complex, socio-cultural phenomenon that is situated in interpersonal relations within a community setting. References Ahmed, Sara, and Anne-Marie Fortier. “Re-Imagining Communities.” International of Cultural Studies 6.3 (2003): 251-59. Bracken, Patrick. J., Joan E. Giller, and Derek Summerfield. Psychological Response to War and Atrocity: The Limitations of Current Concepts. Elsevier Science, 1995. 8 Aug, 2013 ‹http://www.freedomfromtorture.org/sites/default/files/documents/Summerfield-PsychologicalResponses.pdf>. Brune, Michael, Christian Haasen, Michael Krausz, Oktay Yagdiran, Enrique Bustos and David Eisenman. “Belief Systems as Coping Factors for Traumatized Refugees: A Pilot Study.” Eur Psychiatry 17 (2002): 451-58. Canavan, John. “Resilience: Cautiously Welcoming a Contested Concept.” Child Care in Practice 14.1 (2008): 1-7. Chung, Juna. Refugee and Immigrant Survivors of Trauma: A Curriculum for Social Workers. Master’s Thesis for California State University. Long Beach, 2010. 1-29. Eastmond, Maria. “Stories of Lived Experience: Narratives in Forced Migration Research.” Journal of Refugee Studies 20.2 (2007): 248-64. Eyber, Carola “Cultural and Anthropological Studies.” In Forced Migration Online, 2002. 8 Aug, 2013. ‹http://www.forcedmigration.org/research-resources/expert-guides/psychosocial- issues/cultural-and-anthropological-studies>. Graybeal, Clay. “Strengths-Based Social Work Assessment: Transforming the Dominant Paradigm.” Families in Society 82.3 (2001): 233-42. Kleinman, Arthur. “Triumph or Pyrrhic Victory? The Inclusion of Culture in DSM-IV.” Harvard Rev Psychiatry 4 (1997): 343-44. Mares, Sarah, and Louise Newman, eds. Acting from the Heart- Australian Advocates for Asylum Seekers Tell Their Stories. Sydney: Finch Publishing, 2007. Mays, Vicki M. “Identity Development of Black Americans: The Role of History and the Importance of Ethnicity.” American Journal of Psychotherapy 40.4 (1986): 582-93. Nettles, Saundra Murray, and Michael J. Mason. “Zones of Narrative Safety: Promoting Psychosocial Resilience in Young People.” The Journal of Primary Prevention 25.3 (2004): 359-73. Orosa, Francisco J.E., Michael Brune, Katrin Julia Fischer-Ortman, and Christian Haasen. “Belief Systems as Coping Factors in Traumatized Refugees: A Prospective Study.” Traumatology 17.1 (2011); 1-7. Peres, Julio F.P., Alexander Moreira-Almeida, Antonia, G. Nasello, and Harold, G. Koenig. “Spirituality and Resilience in Trauma Victims.” J Relig Health (2006): 1-8. Saleebey, Dennis. “The Strengths Perspective in Social Work Practice: Extensions and Cautions.” Social Work 41.3 (1996): 296-305. Scheper-Hughes, Nancy. “A Talent for Life: Reflections on Human Vulnerability and Resilience.” Ethnos 73.1 (2008): 25-56. Seahorn, Janet, J. and Anthony E. Seahorn. Tears of a Warrior. Ft Collins, USA: Team Pursuits, 2008. Sonn, Christopher, and Adrian Fisher. “Sense of Community: Community Resilient Responses to Oppression and Change.” Unpublished article. Curtin University of Technology & Victoria University of Technology: undated. Summerfield, Derek. “Childhood, War, Refugeedom and ‘Trauma’: Three Core Questions for Medical Health Professionals.” Transcultural Psychiatry 37.3 (2000): 417-433. Tofighian, Omid. “Prolonged Liminality and Comparative Examples of Rioting Down Under”. Fear and Hope: The Art of Asylum Seekers in Australian Detention Centres Literature and Aesthetics (Special Edition) 21 (2011): 97-103. Ungar, Michael. “A Constructionist Discourse on Resilience: Multiple Contexts, Multiple Realities Among at-Risk Children and Youth.” Youth Society 35.3 (2004): 341-365. Ungar, Michael. “A Thicker Description of Resilience.” The International Journal of Narrative Therapy and Community Work 3 & 4 (2005): 85-96. Walsh, Froma. “Traumatic Loss and Major Disasters: Strengthening Family and Community Resilience.” Family Process 46.2 (2007): 207-227. Weiss, Daniel. S., Charles R. Marmar, William. E. Schlenger, John. A. Fairbank, Kathleen Jordon, Richard L. Hough, and Richard A. Kulka. “The Prevalence of Lifetime and Partial Post- Traumatic Stress Disorder in Vietnam Theater Veterans.” Journal of Traumatic Stress 5.3 (1992):365-76. Westoby, Peter, and Ann Ingamells. “A Critically Informed Perspective of Working with Resettling Refugee Groups in Australia.” British Journal of Social Work 40 (2010): 1759-76. Wilson, Michael. “Accumulating Resilience: An Investigation of the Migration and Resettlement Experiences of Young Sudanese People in the Western Sydney Area.” PHD Thesis. University of Western Sydney ( 2012): 1-297. Wu, K. M. “Hope and World Survival.” Philosophy Forum 12.1-2 (1972): 131-48.

Introduction In the following self-reflexive (examining my own experiences) piece I discuss the methodology of my PhD thesis which, completed in 2014 (Johnson On a Tightrope), focused on how women negotiate, reject and embody the expectations associated with contemporary pregnancy and mothering. In this qualitative research project I examined the types of pregnancy and parenting practices (defined as those practices undertaken to manage and maximise the success of women’s pregnancies and parenting) women engage in with reference to contemporary sources of information. Central to this, I studied the changing nature of pregnancy and mothering practices in the context of increasing digitalisation, with a particular focus on whether and how technologies enable new spaces for experiential learning and health responsibilisation. This also allowed me to query how various discourses work to inform particular ideas of ‘good’ or ‘appropriate’ mothering behaviours and mothering ideologies, and the expert patient ideal (Johnson Maternal Devices). An examination of the different resources and technologies women draw on during their transition to first-time motherhood reveals how dominant discourses are resisted, negotiated or differentially embodied by women facing first-time pregnancy and motherhood. Since the time I began my research, there has been an explosion of applications (apps) into the market. Pregnancy and mothering have been ‘appified’. Apps offer a unique way to order, engage with and reshape our bodies and biology today. They reflect wider cultural and social changes in the understanding of our identity, our ‘lifestyle’ and our body. In my study I drew on characterisations from participants in attempting to understand the affordances of apps and the role they may play during both pregnancy and new motherhood. I found that apps format motherhood and pregnancy in new ways, instituting new rules into new devices and offering templates which actively shape meanings and practices. They provide new ways to imagine or create foetal/child identity, to monitor child activity from a distance, to gather and interpret data and the enactment of “digital” helicopter parenting (Johnson Maternal Devices). Apps also represent a ‘tidbitisation’ of information which is delivered directly into the user’s intimate sphere, sometimes ‘pushed’ into this intimate sphere, no matter where they are. This ‘device-ification’ of mothering purports to turn it into an administrative and calculable activity, valuing data over subjective experiences and changing the meaning of what it is to mother and be a mother. Apps also represent the contemporary intersection between social media, medical advice, expectations of self-management and notions of convenience. They also creates new social relations and valuing practices, such as ‘likeability’ on Facebook, which have the potential to alter our understandings of health and identity. Increasing numbers of health initiatives are adopting apps in their promotional marketing campaigns and the appification of health means that medical knowledge is being increasingly incorporated into new sorts of social interactions. Ongoing research must consider the multiplicity of women’s engagement with these apps across the transition to first-time motherhood and for parents who are trying to manage child health. It would be productive to direct focus onto the lived experiences associated with apps rather than lauding or criticising the content of apps. Background The initial question that motivated my research was: ‘How do women draw on, weave together, and reject aspects of the dominant advice which configures contemporary perceptions of maternal subjectivity, encompassing specifically the transition to first-time motherhood?’ I was interested in what women in the transition to first-time motherhood experienced and how they reflected on and interpreted these experiences. The subjective accounts of women tell a particular story, so, rather than administering a survey to a large group of women I focused on in-depth, semi-structured but flexible interviews as a way of discovering participant experiences as expressed in their own words. Having only a small number of interview participants meant that I was able to analyse my data closely in a way that would be difficult with a larger sample. In total, I conducted twenty-two interviews with twelve women during January and September, 2012. This included two interviews with ten participants and one interview with the remaining two participants. The first interview was conducted during the third trimester of pregnancy, ranging from 32 to 38 weeks. The second interview was undertaken postnatally when the babies ranged from 3 to 7 months of age. For participant demographic information, please refer to earlier publications (Johnson Maternal Devices; Intimate Mothering Publics). Interviewing late in pregnancy and early in new motherhood provided a realistic sense of the changes, both positive and negative, which occur during this transition as well as the – at times – deep rift between experience and expectation. The time between interviews was important as it allowed women time to adjust somewhat to life as a new mum, allowed time for reflection on both the pregnancy and the early months of mothering. The interviews were conversational and relaxed in nature and allowed to flow in the direction the participant chose to take. The women were generous in sharing intimate details of their experiences from conception through to motherhood. Their responses revealed different ways of being pregnant, being supported and responsibilised during pregnancy, and the different ways women cope with stress, anxiety and more. The stories also demonstrate the amount of work, thought and often deliberate self-transformation which occurs throughout pregnancy, and as a new mother. I believe my personal biography influenced the data that I collected during the interviews. My age and sex advantaged my position as an interviewer. Being a relatively young female researcher it was easy to develop rapport with the participants. In addition, being a woman likely increased my access, as a researcher, to the intimate experiences women shared throughout the interviews, especially considering the gendered and personal nature of the research. It was also apparent that my absence of first-hand experience of pregnancy and mothering enhanced the depth of interview data, encouraging participants to provide access to details and feelings that they may have believed were unnecessary to discuss had I also been a mother. Rebecca Horn discusses a similar experience in her research with prison inmates and police staff, which she describes as being due to her projected image as an “innocent abroad” (96). It also meant that participants were more likely to share details because my lack of experience meant that I was not in a position to judge these experiences against my own. Throughout the interviews, the participants often wanted to know more about me, asking me questions like: How old are you? Have you ever been pregnant? Do you have a partner? Does doing this research turn you off having children? Does doing this research make you want to have children? What do you plan to do after you’ve finished your thesis? Similar to other researchers who discuss their interview experiences in self-reflexive pieces Edwards, Finch and Oakley, I found that by sharing some of my own personal experiences I was able to establish trust and develop rapport with the participants. Like Kasper I worked with the assumption that each interview is a collaborative and consensual enterprise among women. I focused on earning trust, displaying sensitivity and fairness, and showing support. The participants expressed genuine interest in my research and the findings it was generating, with most women keen to read any published findings from the research. Many participants asked to have a copy of their interview transcripts for posterity or to reflect on with friends or in future pregnancies. ‘Getting Personal’ Now that I am contemplating the extension of my research into the future I must think about how my position as a researcher has changed. As one of my key interests is the ways in which digital technologies impact on parenting I have to ask myself whether I will use this broad range of technologies myself, as a parent. If I do use these technologies, will I insert myself into my research asking questions about my own user experiences and considering whether my partner uses these technologies in a different way to myself? If so, how, and what are the implications of this? I also need to consider my child amongst this, as both a parent and a researcher. Am I comfortable with my child having a digital life from a young age? I have already contemplated this question and made the conscious decision not to discuss or mention my pregnancy on social media, Facebook in particular. This question will again be important when my partner and I make decisions around the different ways we choose to announce the birth of our first child. These questions will continue to be important to me as a parent in an increasingly digitalised world. Until I become a mother, (some time in the next five weeks) I believe I cannot answer these questions. Rather, this article functions as a sounding board, allowing me to begin contemplating these questions in my future dual role as a mother and a researcher. Becoming a mother will change my position as a researcher in other important ways. I will no longer be the inexperienced, childless researcher. I will continue to treat my participants as partners in my research but being a mother myself, intersubjectivity, “the acknowledgment of the reciprocal sharing of knowledge and experience between the researcher and the researched” (Shields and Dervin 67), will become all the more essential to my approach. In this way I would hope to continue to de-emphasise the conventional hierarchies and dichotomies of research by focusing on the dialectical relationship between myself and my research ‘partners’. It will be imperative that I not only listen to these women without judgement but that I also share the intricacies of my research project and my own experiences as a maternal subject. These women are the experts of their own lives (Kasper) and I am sure this research would benefit from their involvement from an early phase where they would be invited to share in the design of research questions and the collection and interpretation of results. This is particularly important when designing research on new technologies where the only experiences I can currently draw from are my own and perhaps those of friends, family and colleagues. Digital research methodologies are still in their infancy, as this special issue attests, and although research into the use of apps is growing, there continues to be little research into the user experiences of apps. Apps as Tools of Convenience? As noted above, apps create a “tidbitisation” of information (Johnson Maternal Devices), where information is convenient and accessible in small ‘tidbits’ that anyone can access anywhere, anytime on their smartphone. This is something I have already utilised during my pregnancy (checking symptoms, reading about baby’s development) and I am sure this will be useful for me as a new mum. I have also been using my smartphone for other baby-related resources such as gathering lists of lullabies and nursery rhymes. These few examples indicate that smartphones do offer a great number of conveniences to new parents. But, they could also appear worrisome – raising questions around smartphones as distractions from parenting or relying on smartphones to track health conditions or baby habits, and perhaps even the deferral of responsibility, for example, busy parents using apps to entertain children. At this stage we actually know very little about the user experience of apps for mothers and new parents and new research in this area needs to ask questions such as: Who uses apps and why? What are users paying attention to and what is ignored or ‘switched off’? Do push notifications actually work? Do they create a new form of responsibilisation and if so, what are the repercussions of this, particularly if these apps are directed towards women as new parents, rather than men? This last question is particularly important for a scholar such as myself in the field of Gender and Cultural Studies where questions of gender and gendering are often central to our research. I have found that, as apps continue to be developed at an alarming rate, those specific to parenting are, more often than not targeted to women rather than men. Those that are targeted to men are often patronising and poorly executed, lacking detailed information and emphasising gendered stereotypes (for examples, see Johnson Maternal Devices). This is important to note because I found in my study that app use constitutes part of the intimate relationship of parents-to-be and new parents. Male partners rarely read guidebooks or significant detail from other information sources and so apps played a role in their day-to-day gathering of knowledge, usually via their partner. Rather than reading a chapter of a book or googling a pregnancy symptom, quiet time chatting on the couch after work often included the sharing of information from apps or regular email updates on a variety of topics. Men used the same apps as women but this was usually on their partner’s phone, rather than their own. This raises another important question. How do we research indirect use of apps? Is this even possible? The obvious way to answer this question would be through the use of qualitative interviews. This is made difficult through the mere fact that we first must know who uses these apps indirectly before we recruit them into our research. Researching Digital Technologies through Discourse Analysis In my PhD the use of smartphones and apps only emerged as a theme of interest late into the research project. The constant mention of various apps during the interviews prompted me to examine a number of key pregnancy and parenting apps in terms of the discourses they mobilise and their functionality (Johnson Maternal Devices). As Dorothy Smith attests, we live in a textually mediated world. Pregnancy and parenting books, magazines, technologies such as apps and other forms of popular advice represent a mediated version of motherhood, parenthood and fatherhood. If these texts can influence and be influenced by patterns of parenting discourse then critical discourse analysis can contribute to an understanding of the ways in which mothering can be influenced or constructed by popular media and discourse. Thus, in my PhD research I applied discourse analysis to the study of apps. Discourse analysis examines how language constructs social phenomena and investigates the ways in which it produces certain social realities and expectations (Sunderland). Discourse analysis is valuable because of the questions it enables us to ask about the constructed nature of our experiences and the texts that we are exposed to. Smartphone apps, social media and the Internet are growing resources for women in the transition to first-time motherhood. These technologies require further research as they represent a particular way for women to engage with the neoliberal project of responsibilisation. Targeting first-time mothers and parents research allows access to users of digital technologies who most likely have a vested interest (i.e. the health and development of their children) in understanding the way new technologies are increasingly intervening in our everyday lives. Maternal subjects are likely to view such technologies as a means to monitor her pregnancies and her children’s health and development. A central aim of my research is to render visible the enduring nature of ideologies and expectations of motherhood – which include the ways in which women as mothers are responsibilised – and the ways in which different variants of mothering are inserted in new ways into tools of self-help, social media and new ‘pushy’ technologies (apps). This will reveal how discourse is constituted by mothers and how mothering discourse can work to constitute particular maternal practices and beliefs or expectations. Thus I argue that discourse analysis is central to the research of pregnancy/parenting apps. My research demonstrates how women draw on new technologies in rebellious, ironic or affirmative ways to enact different technologies of the self (Foucault). The texts can be viewed as disciplinary in a Foucauldian sense, and by analysing these different forms of advice it is possible to provide an ongoing demonstration of the difficulty of complying with the various demands of motherhood. Women’s interactions with a range of parenting discourses and attempts to create their own version of motherhood can be seen to constitute one component of the work of motherhood and the ways women practice and enact motherhood (this is discussed in detail in an article currently under review). Although researching the potential affordances of apps is important this research must be connected to user experience. In other words, are apps used in the ways we think they are? In order to move forward and ask questions such as: “Are women responsibilised and their conduct shaped in a new way via their smartphones in what I have characterised ‘push responsibilisation’?” we must move beyond discourse analysis and ask questions that focus on the user experience of apps. It would be useful to draw on existing research in other fields, which have started to develop a range of ethnographic methods and tools for research into computer-user interactions, applications and social media including Tinder, Grindr and Instagram. Other questions I wish to include in a future empirical study include: Who adopts these apps and why? Are there variations in the ways different generational users adopt apps? Who rejects these apps and why? Are push notifications ignored, considered obtrusive or do they prompt specific practices or actions? How are apps used? How do apps maintain already existing gender inequalities in parenting? In asking these questions I believe we could also begin to interrogate a much broader question, that is: “What can the use of devices during this particular ‘life stage’ tell us more broadly about mapping, tracking and quantifying the self?” This brings me again to the central question in this piece: How do we do this research? In this article I have not attempted to answer this question but rather to provoke discussion and encourage debate. In particular, I would like to consider new research methodologies which have the potential to extend our research capabilities and those whom we are able to involve in our research. An example would be conducting research online through pre-existing discussion forums. I have attended numerous academic events in the past two years where academics have started to ponder these questions more generally but my hope is that this article can act as encouragement for further debate. References Edwards, Rosalind. “Connecting Method and Epistimology: A White Woman Interviewing Black Women.” Women's Studies International Forum 13 (1990): 477-490. Finch, Janet. “It’s great to have someone to talk to”: The Ethics and Politics of Interviewing Women. Social Researching: Politics, Problems, Practice. Eds. Colin Bell and Helen Roberts. London: Routledge, 1984. Foucault, Michel. "Technologies of the Self: A Seminar with Michel Foucault." Technologies of the Self: A Seminar with Michel Foucault. Eds. Luther Martin, Huck Gutman, and Patrick Hutton. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1998. Horn, Rebecca. “Reflexivity in Placement: Women Interviewing Women.” Feminism & Psychology 5 (1995): 94-98. Johnson, Sophia. “On a Tightrope? Technologies of Motherhood in Neoliberal Society.” PhD Thesis. Sydney: Department of Gender and Cultural Studies, University of Sydney, 2014. Johnson, Sophia. “‘Maternal Devices’, Social Media and the Self-Management of Pregnancy, Mothering and Child Health”. Societies 4.2 (2014): 330-350. Johnson, Sophia. “‘Intimate Mothering Publics’: Comparing Face-To-Face Support Groups and Internet Use for Women Seeking Information and Advice in the Transition to First-Time Motherhood.” Culture, Health and Sexuality: An International Journal for Research, Intervention and Care 17.2 (2015): 237-251. Kasper, Anne. “A Feminist, Qualitative Methodology: A Study of Women with Breast Cancer.” Qualitative Sociology 17.3 (1994): 263-281. Oakley, Ann. “Interviewing Women: A Contradiction in Terms.” Doing Feminist Research. Ed. Helen Roberts. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1981. Shields, Vickie Rutledge, and Brenda Dervin. “Sense-Making in Feminist Social Science Research: A Call to Enlarge the Methodological Options of Feminist Studies.” Women's Studies International Forum 16.1 (1993): 65-81. Smith, Dorothy. The Everyday World as Problematic: A Feminist Sociology. Boston: Northern University Press, 1987. Sunderland, J. “'Parenting' or 'Mothering'? The Case of Modern Childcare Magazines.” Discourse & Society 17.4 (2006): 503-528.

Rage can come from anywhere, it ignites as a flash of lightening and hisses rapidly down a darkened tunnel, landing wherever it finds a target. Sigmund Freud, and many other psychoanalysts, have attempted to explain the inception of human’s two primordial emotions, rage and fear – encapsulated in the popular phrase, fight or flight. Our earliest historical records detail the myriad battles that determined the world’s future course of events. Without rage, and its adjutants, violence and war, the world’s countries would not exist with their current boundaries. In fact, our species, Homo sapiens would necessarily have evolved through a different course. Since 2016, the public has been outraged by current events at an unprecedented level: the confluence of the election of US President Donald Trump, the struggles over the UK’s Brexit, and the revelations of systematic sexual abuse of women and African Americans, culminating in the recent #metoo and the #blacklivesmatter social media campaigns. More and more women have protested against sexual abuse, and recently the free-verse poem book Shout, from pop cultural icon Laurie Halse Anderson, “raise[s] urgent alarms, warning against the evils propagated by a culture that values dominance over respect” (Feldman 52). The rage revolution is here now. The nine articles included in this issue of M/C Journal on ‘rage’ unpack the concept of rage and its significant linkages to injustice, anger, personal and sexual abuse of women and minority cultures, violence and war. It is no surprise that many authors have chosen to focus on women’s rage and anger. Below, three articles develop the themes of political disenfranchisement for women and Indigenous cultures with a special emphasis on Australia, and the significant role that clothing plays in group-based activism.In the feature article, Angelika Heurich explores the fraught territory of women’s rights starting with the slogan: ‘the personal is the political’. In both the First and Second Waves of feminism, she reports, “concerns about issues of inequality, including sexuality, the right to abortion, availability of childcare, and sharing of household duties” became “personal problems” rather than a matter for national debate and policy changes (Hanisch qtd. in Heurich). Heurich cites the need for “feminist intervention in the state” (van Acker 120). These issues are very much alive today: how can enraged women change government policy in a meaningful way to address past and present injustices? Author Jo Coghlan further develops the theme of protestation with how clothing depicts the history of dissent. Coghlan’s argument suggests that the political efficacy of dress can perform “an ideological function that either bring[s] diverse members of society together for a cause ... or act[s] as a fence to keep identities separate” (Coghlan qtd Barnard). Clothing, as liberation, was celebrated in Mahatma Gandhi’s hand-spun cotton that symbolised the separation of India from Great Britain. Later, the Australian Aborigines’ Black Protest Committee adopted a set of particular colours for their movement towards equality, in this case, red, black and yellow worn first in 1982. To continue the theme, Lisa Hackett outlines the response of women’s rage’ to how their garments remain unsuitable from several standpoints. Hackett notes that the issues that surround fast fashion inspire women’s anger by its production: clothing that is cheaply made, in workplaces of virtual slavery, and made of unsustainable fabrics which lead to mountains of discarded garments in the world’s landfills. These problems inspire the rage of women who desire to protect the environment and also seek clothing that fits over forced obsolescence. Even as this issue on ‘rage’ widely presents people, activities and events that are driven by rage – across the broad spectrum of personal, artistic and cultural and socio-political storytelling, we also sought solutions in productive and/or philosophical frameworks that could explore how to ameliorate conditions under which rage arises. So the next two articles address the under-used (and under-implemented) word civility. In his article “Of ‘Rage of Party’ and the Coming of Civility”, Greg Melleuish presents the English Civil War as a case study. This conflict between the Royalists and Parliamentarians disrupted the authority of the crown, and resulted in a more moderated English government, in stark contrast to regime changes later on the European continent (e.g., the French Revolution). Melleuish offers that a “new ideal of ‘politeness and moderation’ had conquered English political culture” and promoted civility as a standard of behaviour for the government and worthy individuals. This concept of civility would later evolve to introduce philosophies of the Enlightenment. A collection of authors (Elizabeth Reid Boyd, Madalena Grobbelaar, Eyal Gringart, Alise Bender, and Rose Williams) have worked through the serious issues of ‘intimate civility’ – to encourage pathways to counteract ‘rage’ and its impact on the most vulnerable in society, especially women and children. The authors, in their coinage of the term, “envisage intimate civility – and our relationships – as dynamic, dialectical, discursive and interactive, above and beyond dualism.” They introduce a ‘decalogue’ of civility, relying on notions of politeness, respect, and emphasise dialogue between the affected parties and the Australian government’s campaigns and policies on domestic and sexual violence to reduce rage in the arena of interpersonal and intergenerational conflicts. The last articles in this M/C Journal issue on ‘rage’ address the media side of the equation. These authors all deal with aspects of rage as expressed on various screens, as films, television series or downloads to other devices. Richard Gehrmann, in his analysis of the Hollywood film American Sniper (2014), first provides a capsule timeline of conflicts in the Middle East, from the Second World War to the current day’s ongoing battles in Syria and elsewhere in the region. He highlights the propaganda-based, pro-American ‘jingoism’ presented in American Sniper, contrasting its portrayal of the returned veteran Chris Kyle with other true-life accounts of US Iraqi and Afghan soldiers. Gehrmann presents a bleak commentary on the ‘hot and cold rage’ required of the lone sniper, while many ‘hot’ unresolved issues, including the refugee crisis, remain in the Middle East situation. American Sniper’s celebration of the lone gunman contributes to the acceptance of violence in an America where mass shootings indicate an ever-growing expression of individual rage.”In his article on ‘Cage rage’, Sasa Miletic outlines Hollywood actor Nicholas Cage and his violent, sometimes over-acted outbursts on film as one of “the most famous Internet memes”. Miletic asks: has the overexpression of anger depicted in ‘Cage rage’ become “a pop cultural reminder “that rage, for a lack of a better word, is good ... or can [his filmic rage] only serve for catharsis on an individual level?” With this question, Miletic explores Nicholas Cage throughout his acting career, and presents his argument that the potential for ‘double-reading’ of his angry overacting in movies is a sort of ‘parapraxis’ – or “a Freudian slip of the tongue, a term borrowed by Elsaesser and Wedel (131). Miletic’s exploration of ‘Cage rage’ introduces new concepts of rage from the contemporary Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek.The exploration of rage in film now turns to Jessica Gildersleeve’s article that locates ambiguous meanings of rage in recent television adaptations based in the Australian outback. Guildersleeve explores the two adaptations Wake in Fright (2017) and Mystery Road (2108) for how they depict rage: “in this context rage is turned to melancholy and thus to self-destruction, [serving] as an allegory for the state of the contemporary nation.” Gildersleeve notes that previous Australian authors have outlined the trope of ‘outback noir,’ and in her analysis of these two adaptations, she realigns the previous literary analysis of ‘noir’ to the emerging genre of Outback Gothic horror. The two shows depict the force of inward rage that turns to melancholy from different perspectives. While Wake in Fright (2107) seems to offer no hope for the future, Mystery Road harnesses the power of rage to locate a potential way to reconcile the two ‘classic’ opposing factions that inhabit the Outback: the colonisers and the indigenous Aborigines. Lastly, this collection on ‘rage’ comes full circle, back to the omnipresent ‘women’s rage’.From the viewpoint of Gothic literary traditions, and their challengers, author Katharine Hawkins develops the trope of Monstrous gothic through women’s roles depicted in Showtime’s television series, Penny Dreadful (2014-2016). Here, Hawkins echoes the themes from the introductory articles: as women must comply with men and their comforts, women’s rage turns both inward and outward. In Penny Dreadful, the actress Billie Piper constitutes a figure of the “Monstrous Gothic Feminine” arising from “the parlours of bored Victorian housewives into a contemporary feminist moment that is characterised by a split between respectable diplomacy and the visibility of female rage.” Piper’s Bride figure then mutates “from coerced docility [towards] abject, sexualised anger” which makes itself heard in the show’s second season (2016). Hawkins discussion introduces Ahmed’s figure of the “kill joy”, which becomes “a term to refer to feminists – particularly black feminists – whose actions or presence refuse this obligation, and in turn project their discomfort outwards, instead of inwards.” In summary, rage is with us, always. But there is hope that the outward expression of women’s rage, and of other disenfranchised populations as echoed in the #metoo and #blacklivesmatter movements will change the culture of global politics to value respect over violence. References Anderson, Laurie Halse. Shout. New York: Penguin Random House.Barnard, Malcolm. Fashion as Communication. New York: Routledge, 1996.Elsaesser, Thomas, and Michael Wedel, Körper Tod und Technik: Metamorphosen des Kriegsfilms. Paderborn: Konstanz University Press, 2016.Feldman, Lucy. “A Voice for Others Speaks for Herself.” TIME, 11 Mar. 2019: 52-53.Hanisch, Carol. “Introduction: The Personal Is Political.” 2006. 18 Sep. 2016 <http://www.carolhanisch.org/CHwritings/PIP.html>.Van Acker, Elizabeth. Different Voices: Gender and Politics in Australia. Melbourne: MacMillan Education Australia, 1999.Žižek, Slavoj. Violence: Six Sideways Reflections. London: Profile Books, 2009.

From the mid-twentieth century, state and public conceptions of deviance and crime control have turned increasingly punitive (Hallett 115; Hutchinson 138). In a Western context, criminal justice has long been retributive, prioritising punishment over rehabilitation (Wenzel et al. 26). Within that context, there has been an increase in punitiveness—understood here as a measure of a punishment’s severity—the intention of which has been to help restore the moral imbalance created by offending while also deterring future crime (Wenzel et al. 26). Entangled with the global spread of neoliberal capitalism, punitiveness has become internationally pervasive to a near-hegemonic degree (Sparks qtd. in Jennings et al. 463; Unnever and Cullen 100).The punitive turn has troubling characteristics. Punitive policies can be expensive, and increased incarceration stresses the criminal justice system and leads to prison overcrowding (Hutchinson 135). Further, punitiveness is not only applied unequally across categories such as class, race, and age (Unnever and Cullen 105-06; Wacquant 212) but the effectiveness of punitive policy relative to its costs is contested (Bouffard et al. 466, 477; Hutchinson 139). Despite this, evidence suggests public demand is driving punitive policymaking, but that demand is only weakly related to crime rates (Jennings et al. 463).While discussion of punitiveness in the public sphere often focuses on measures such as boot camps for young offenders, increased incarceration, and longer prison sentences, punitiveness also has a darker side. Our research analysing discussion taking place on a large, regional, crime-focused online forum reveals a startling degree and intensity of violence directed at offenders and related groups. Members of the discussion forum do propose unsurprising measures such as incarceration and boot camps, but also an array of violent alternatives, including beating, shooting, dismemberment, and conversion into animal food. This article draws on our research to explore why discussion of punitiveness can be so intensely violent.Our research applies thematic analysis to seven discussion threads posted to a large regional online forum focused on crime, made between September and November 2017. One discussion thread per week of the study period was purposively sampled based on relevance to the topic of punitiveness, ultimately yielding 1200 individual comments. Those comments were coded, and the data and codes were reiteratively analysed to produce categories, then basic, organising, and global themes. We intended to uncover themes in group discussion most salient to punitiveness to gain insight into how punitive social interactions unfold and how those who demand punitiveness understand their interactions and experiences of crime. We argue that, in this online forum, the global theme—the most salient concept related to punitiveness—is a “subaltern citizenship”. Here, a clear division emerges from the data, where the group members perceive themselves as “us”—legitimate citizens with all attendant rights—in opposition to an external “them”, a besieging group of diverse, marginalised Others who have illegitimately usurped certain rights and who victimise citizens. Group members often deride the state as too weak and untrustworthy to stop this victimisation. Ironically, the external Others perceived by the group to hold power are themselves genuinely marginalised, though the group does not recognise or see that form of marginalisation as legitimate. In this essay, to preserve the anonymity of the forum and its members, we refer to them only as “the Forum”, located in “the City”, and refrain from direct quotes except for commonly used words or phrases that do not identify individuals.It is also important to note that the research described here deliberately focused on a specific group in a specific space who were concerned about specific groups of offenders. Findings and discussion, and the views on punitiveness described, cannot be generalised to the broader community. Nor do we suggest these views can be considered representative of all Forum members as we present here only a limited analysis of some violent discourse emerging from our research. Likewise, while our discussion often centres on youth and other marginalised groups in the context of offending, we do not intend to imply that offending is a characteristic of these groups.Legitimate CitizenshipCommonly, citizenship is seen as a conferred status denoting full and equal community membership and the rights and responsibilities dictated by community values and norms (Lister 28-29). Western citizenship norms are informed by neoliberal capitalist values: individual responsibility, an obligation to be in paid employment, participation in economic consumption, the sanctity of ownership, and that the principal role of government is to defend the conditions under which these norms can freely thrive (Walsh 861-62). While norms are shaped by laws and policy frameworks, they are not imposed coercively or always deployed consciously. These norms exist as shared behavioural expectations reproduced through social interaction and embodied as “common sense” (Kotzian 59). As much as Western democracies tend to a universalist representation of one, undifferentiated citizenship, it is clear that gender, race, sexual orientation, religion, ethnicity, and migrant status all exist in different relationships to citizenship as an identity category. Glass ceilings, stolen generations, same-sex marriage debates, and Australian Government proposals to strip citizenship from certain types of criminal offender all demonstrate that the lived experience of norms surrounding citizenship is profoundly unequal for some (Staeheli et al. 629-30). An individual’s citizenship status, therefore, more accurately exists on a spectrum between legitimacy—full community membership, possessing all rights and living up to all associated responsibilities—and illegitimacy—diminished membership, with contested rights and questionable fulfilment of associated responsibilities—depending on the extent of their deviation from societal norms.Discussing punitiveness, Forum members position themselves as “us”, that is, legitimate citizens. Words such as “we” and “us” are used as synonyms for society and for those whose behaviours are “normal” or “acceptable”. Groups associated with offending are described as “they”, “them”, and their behaviours are “not normal”, “disgusting”, “feral”, and merit the removal of “them” from civilisation, usually to “the middle of nowhere” or “the Outback”. Possession of legitimate citizenship is implicit in assuming authority over what is normal and who should be exiled for failing the standard.Another implicit assumption discernible in the data is that Forum members perceive the “normal we” as good neoliberal citizens. “We” work hard, own homes and cars, and take individual responsibility. There is a strong imputation of welfare dependency among offenders, the poor, and other suspect groups. Offending is presented as something curable by stripping offenders or their parents of welfare payments. Members earn their status as legitimate citizens by adhering to the norms of neoliberal citizenship in opposition to potential offenders to whom the benefits of citizenship are simply doled out.Forum members also frame their citizenship as legitimate by asserting ownership over community spaces and resources. This can be seen in their talking as if they, their sympathetic audience, and “the City” are the same (for example, declaring that “the City” demands harsher punishments for juvenile offenders). There are also calls to “take back” the streets, the City, and Australia from groups associated with offending. That a space can and should be “taken back” implies a pre-existing state of control interrupted by those who have no right to ownership. At its most extreme, the assertion of ownership extends to a conviction that members have the right to position offenders as enemies of the state and request that the army, the ultimate tool of legitimate state violence, be turned against them if governments and the criminal justice system are too “weak” or “soft” to constrain them.The Illegitimate OtherThroughout the data, perceived offenders are spoken of with scorn and hatred. “Perceived offenders” may include offenders and their family, youths, Indigenous people, and people of low socioeconomic status, and these marginalised groups are referenced so interchangeably it can be difficult to determine which is being discussed.Commenting on four “atsi [sic] kids” who assaulted an elderly man, group members asserted “they” should be shot like dogs. The original text gives no antecedents to indicate whether “they” is meant to indicate youths, Indigenous youths, or offenders in general. However, Australia has a colonial history of conflating crime and indigeneity and shooting Indigenous people to preserve white social order (Hill and Dawes 310, 312), a consequence of the tendency of white people to imagine criminals as black (Unnever and Cullen 106). It must be noted that the racial identity of individual Forum members is unknown. This does constitute a limitation in the original study, as identity categories such as race and class intersect and manifest in social interactions in complex ways. However, that does not prevent analysis of the text itself.In the Forum’s discursive space, “they” is used to denote offenders, Indigenous youths, youths, or the poor interchangeably, as if they were all a homogeneous, mutually synonymous “Other”. Collectively, these groups are represented as so generally hopeless that they are imagined as choosing to offend so they will be sentenced to the comforts of “holiday camp” prisons where they can access luxuries otherwise beyond their reach: freedom from addicted parents, medical care, food, television, and computers. A common argument, that crime is an individual choice, is often based on the idea that prison is a better option for the poor than going home. As a result, offending by marginalised offenders is reconstructed as a rational choice or a failure of individual responsibility rather than a consequence of structural inequality.Further, parents of those in suspect populations are blamed for intergenerational maintenance of criminality. They are described as too drunk or drugged to care, too unskilled in parenting due to their presumed dreadful upbringing, or too busy enjoying their welfare payments to meet their responsibility to control their children or teach them the values and skills of citizenship. Comments imply parents probably participated in their children’s crimes even when no evidence suggests that possibility and that some groups simply cannot be trusted to raise disciplined children owing to their inherent moral and economic dissipation. That is, not just offenders but entire groups are deemed illegitimate, willing to enjoy benefits of citizenship such as welfare payments but unwilling or unable to earn them by engaging with the associated responsibilities. This is a frequent argument for why they deserve severely punitive punishment for deviance.However, the construction of the Other as illegitimate in Forum discussions reaches far beyond imagining them as lacking normative skills and values. The violence present on the Forum is startling in its intensity. Prevalent within the data is the reduction of people to insulting nicknames. Terms used to describe people range from the sarcastic— “little darlings”—through standard abusive language such as “bastards”, “shits”, “dickheads”, “lowlifes”, to dehumanising epithets such as “maggots”, “scum”, and “subhuman arsewipes”. Individually and collectively, “they” are relentlessly framed as less than human and even less than animals. They are “mongrels” and “vermin”. In groups, they are “packs”, and they deserve to be “hunted” or just shot from helicopters. They are unworthy of life. “Oxygen thieves” is a repeated epithet, as is the idea that they should be dropped out at sea to drown. Other suggestions for punishment include firing squads, lethal injections, and feeding them to animals.It is difficult to imagine a more definitive denial of legitimacy than discursively stripping individuals and groups of their humanity (their most fundamental status) and their right to existence (their most fundamental right as living beings). The Forum comes perilously close to casting the Other as Agamben’s homo sacer, humans who live in a “state of exception”, subject to the state’s power but excluded from the law’s protection and able to be killed without consequence (Lechte and Newman 524). While it would be hyperbole to push this comparison too far—given Agamben had concentration camps in mind—the state of exception as a means of both excluding a group from society and exercising control over its life does resonate here.Themes Underlying PunitivenessOur findings indicate the theme most salient to punitive discussion is citizenship, rooted in persistent concerns over who is perceived to have it, who is not, and what should be done about those Others whose deviance renders their citizenship less legitimate. Citizenship norms—real or aspirational—of society’s dominant groups constitute the standards by which Forum members judge their experiences of and with crime, perceived offenders, the criminal justice system, and the state. However, Forum members do not claim a straightforward belonging to and sharing in the maintenance of the polity. Analysis of the data suggests Forum members consider their legitimate citizenship tainted by external forces such as politics, untrustworthy authorities and institutions, and the unconstrained excess of the illegitimate Other. That is, they perceive their citizenship to be simultaneously legitimate and undeservedly subaltern.According to Gramsci, subaltern populations are subordinate to dominant groups in political and civil society, lulled by hegemonic norms to cooperate in their own oppression (Green 2). Civil society supports the authority of political society and, in return, political society uses the law and criminal justice system to safeguard civil society’s interests against unruly subalterns (Green 7). Rights and responsibilities of citizenship reside within the mutual relationship between political and civil society. Subalternity, by definition, exists outside this relationship, or with limited access to it.Forum members position themselves as citizens within civil society. They lay emphatic claim to fulfilling their responsibilities as neoliberal citizens. However, they perceive themselves to be denied the commensurate rights: they cannot rely on the criminal justice system to protect them from the illegitimate Other. The courts are “soft”, and prisons are “camps” with “revolving doors”. Authorities pamper offenders while doing nothing to stop them from hurting their victims. Human rights are viewed as an imposition by the UN or as policy flowing from a political sphere lacking integrity and dominated by “do gooders”. Rights are reserved only for offenders. Legitimate citizens no longer even have the right to defend themselves. The perceived result is a transfer of rights from legitimate to illegitimate, from deserving to undeserving. This process elides from view the actual subalterns of Australian society—here, most particularly Indigenous people and the socioeconomically vulnerable—and reconstructs them as oppressors of the dominant group, who are reframed as legitimate citizens unjustly made subaltern.The Violence in PunitivenessOn the Forum, as in the broader world, a sense of “white victimisation”—the view, unsupported by history or evidence, that whites are an oppressed people within a structure systematically doling out advantage to minorities (King 89)—is a recurrent legitimising argument for punitiveness and vigilantism. Amid the shrinking social safety nets and employment precarity of neoliberal capitalism, competitiveness increases, and white identity forms around perceived threats to power and status incurred by “losing out” to minorities (Sacks and Lindholm 131). One 2011 study finds a majority of white US citizens believe themselves subject to more racism than black people (King 89). However, these assumptions of whiteness tend to be spared critical examination because, in white-dominated societies, whiteness is the common-sense norm in opposition to which other racial categories are defined (Petray and Collin 2). When whiteness is made the focus of critical questioning, white identities gain salience and imaginings of the “dark other” and besieged white virtues intensify (Bonilla-Silva et al. 232).With respect to feelings of punitiveness, Unnever and Cullen (118-19) find that the social cause for punitiveness in the United States is hostility towards other races, that harsh punishments, including the death penalty, are demanded and accepted by the dominant group because they are perceived to mostly injure “people they do not like” (Unnever and Cullen 119). Moreover, perception that a racial group is inherently criminal amplifies more generalised prejudices against them and diminishes the capacity of the dominant group to feel empathy for suffering inflicted upon them by the criminal justice system (Unnever and Cullen 120).While our analysis of the Forum supports these findings where they touch on crimes committed by Indigenous people, they invite a question. Why, where race is not a factor, do youths and the socioeconomically disadvantaged also inspire intensely violent punitiveness as described above? We argue that the answer relates to status. From this perspective, race becomes one of several categories of differentiation from legitimate citizenship through an ascription of low status.Wenzel, Okimoto, and Cameron (29) contend punitiveness, with respect to specific offences, varies according to the symbolic meaning the offence holds for the observer. Crimes understood as a transgression against status or power inspire a need for “revenge, punishment, and stigmatisation” (Wenzel et al. 41) and justify an increase in the punitiveness required (Wenzel et al. 29, 34). This is particularly true where an offence is deemed to make someone unfit for community membership, such that severe punishment serves as a symbolic marker of exile and a reaffirmation for the community of the violated values and norms (Wenzel et al. 41). Indeed, as noted, Forum posts regularly call for offenders to be removed from society, exiled to the outback, or shipped beyond Australia’s territorial waters.Further, Forum members’ perception of subaltern citizenship, with its assumption of legitimate citizenship as being threatened by undeserving Others, makes them view crime as implicitly a matter of status transgression. This is intensified by perception that the political sphere and criminal justice system are failing legitimate citizens, refusing even to let them defend themselves. Virulent name-calling and comparisons to animals can be understood as attempts by the group to symbolically curtail the undeservedly higher status granted to offenders by weak governments and courts. More violent demands for punishment symbolically remove offenders from citizenship, reaffirm citizen values, and vent anger at a political and criminal justice system deemed complicit, through weakness, in reducing legitimate citizens to subaltern citizens.ConclusionsIn this essay, we highlight the extreme violence we found in our analysis of an extensive online crime forum in a regional Australian city. We explore some explanations for violent public punitiveness, highlighting how members identify themselves as subaltern citizens in a battle against undeserving Others, with no support from a weak state. This analysis centres community norms and a problematic conception of citizenship as drivers of both public punitiveness and dissatisfaction with crime control policy and the criminal justice system. We highlight a real dissonance between community needs and public policy that may undermine effective policymaking. That is, evidence-based crime control policies, successful crime prevention initiatives, and falling crime rates may not increase public satisfaction with how crime is dealt with if policymakers pursue those measures without regard for how citizens experience the process.While studies such as that by Wenzel, Okimoto, and Cameron identify differences in status between legitimate citizens and offenders as amplifiers of punitiveness, we suggest the amplification may be mediated by the status relationship between legitimate citizens and authority figures within legitimate society. The offender and their crime may not contribute as much to the public’s outrage as commonly assumed. Instead, public punitiveness may predominantly arise from the perception that the political sphere, media, and criminal justice system respond to citizens’ experience of crime in ways that devalue the status of legitimate citizens. At least in the context of this regional city, this points to something other than successful crime control being integral to building more effective and satisfactory crime control policy: in this case, the need to rebuild trust between citizens and authority groups.ReferencesBonilla-Silva, Eduardo, Carla Goar, and David G. Embrick. “When Whites Flock Together: The Social Psychology of White Habitus.” Critical Sociology 32.2-3 (2006): 229–253.Bouffard, Jeff, Maisha Cooper, and Kathleen Bergseth. “The Effectiveness of Various Restorative Justice Interventions on Recidivism Outcomes among Juvenile Offenders.” Youth Violence and Juvenile Justice 15.4 (2017): 465–480.Green, Marcus. “Gramsci Cannot Speak: Presentations and Interpretations of Gramsci’s Concept of the Subaltern.” Rethinking Marxism 14.3 (2002): 1–24.Hallett, Michael. “Imagining the Global Corporate Gulag: Lessons from History and Criminological Theory.” Contemporary Justice Review 12.2 (2009): 113–127.Hill, Richard, and Glenn Dawes. “The ‘Thin White Line’: Juvenile Crime, Racialised Narrative and Vigilantism—A North Queensland Study.” Current Issues in Criminal Justice 11.3 (2000): 308–326.Hutchinson, Terry. “‘A Slap on the Wrist’? The Conservative Agenda in Queensland, Australia.” Youth Justice 15.2 (2015): 134–147.Jennings, Will, Stephen Farrall, Emily Gray, and Colin Hay. “Penal Populism and the Public Thermostat: Crime, Public Punitiveness, and Public Policy.” Governance: An International Journal of Policy, Administration, and Institutions 30.3 (2017): 463–481.King, Mike. “The ‘Knockout Game’: Moral Panic and the Politics of White Victimhood.” Race & Class 56.4 (2015): 85–94.Kotzian, Peter. “Good Governance and Norms of Citizenship: An Investigation into the System- and Individual-Level Determinants of Attachment to Civic Norms.” American Journal of Economics and Sociology 73.1 (2014): 58–83.Lechte, John, and Saul Newman. “Agamben, Arendt and Human Rights: Bearing Witness to the Human.” European Journal of Social Theory 15.4 (2012): 522–536.Lister, Ruth. “Citizenship: Towards a Feminist Synthesis.” Feminist Review 57 (1997): 28–48.Petray, Theresa L., and Rowan Collin. “Your Privilege is Trending: Confronting Whiteness on Social Media.” Social Media + Society 3.2 (2017): 1–10.Sacks, Michael A., and Marika Lindholm. “A Room without a View: Social Distance and the Structuring of Privileged Identity.” Working through Whiteness: International Perspectives. Ed. Cynthia Levine-Rasky. Albany, NY: State U of New York P, 2002. 129-151.Staeheli, Lynn A., Patricia Ehrkamp, Helga Leitner, and Caroline R. Nagel. “Dreaming the Ordinary: Daily Life and the Complex Geographies of Citizenship.” Progress in Human Geography 36.5 (2012): 628–644.Unnever, James D., and Francis T. Cullen. “The Social Sources of Americans’ Punitiveness: A Test of Three Competing Models.” Criminology 48.1 (2010): 99–129.Wacquant, Loïc. “Crafting the Neoliberal State: Workfare, Prisonfare, and Social Insecurity.” Sociological Forum 25.2 (2010): 197–220.Walsh, James P. “Quantifying Citizens: Neoliberal Restructuring and Immigrant Selection in Canada and Australia.” Citizenship Studies 15.6-7 (2011): 861–879.Wenzel, Michael, Tyler Okimoto, and Kate Cameron. “Do Retributive and Restorative Justice Processes Address Different Symbolic Concerns?” Critical Criminology 20.1 (2012): 25–44.

We ask you now, reader, to put your mind, as a citizen of the Australian Commonwealth, to the facts presented in these pages. We ask you to study the problem, in the way that we present the case, from the Aborigines’ point of view. We do not ask for your charity; we do not ask you to study us as scientific-freaks. Above all, we do not ask for your “protection”. No, thanks! We have had 150 years of that! We ask only for justice, decency, and fair play. (Patten and Ferguson 3-4) Jack Patten and William Ferguson’s above declaration on “Plain Speaking” in Aborigines Claim Citizenship Rights! A Statement of the Case for the Aborigines Progressive Association (1938), outlining Aboriginal Australians view of colonisation and the call for Aboriginal self-determinacy, will be my guiding framework in writing this paper. I ask you to study the problem, as it is presented, from the viewpoint of an Indigenous woman who seeks to understand how “sorry” has been uttered in political domains as a word divorced from the moral freight attached to a history of “degrading, humiliating and exterminating” Aboriginal Australians (Patten and Ferguson 11). I wish to argue that the Opposition leader’s utterance of “sorry” in his 13 February 2008 “We Are Sorry – Address to Parliament” was an indicator of the insidious ways in which colonisation has treated Aboriginal Australians as less than, not equal to, white Australians and to examine the ways in which this particular utterance of the word “sorry” is built on longstanding colonial frameworks that position ‘the Aborigine’ as peripheral in the representation of a national identity – a national identity that, as shown by the transcript of the apology, continues to romanticise settler values and ignore Indigenous rights. Nelson’s address tries to disassociate the word “sorry” from any moral attachment. The basis of his address is on constructing a national identity where all injustices are equal. In offering this apology, let us not create one injustice in our attempts to address another. (Nelson) All sorrys are equal, but some are more equal than others. Listening to Nelson’s address, words resembling those of Orwell’s ran through my head. The word “sorry” in relation to Indigenous Australians has taken on cultural, political, educational and economic proportions. The previous government’s refusal to utter the word was attached to the ways in which formations of rhetorically self-sufficient arguments of practicality, equality and justice “functioned to sustain and legitimate existing inequalities between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples in Australia” (Augoustinos, LeCouteur and Soyland 105). How then, I wondered as I nervously waited for Nelson to begin apologising, would he transform this inherited collective discursive practice of legitimised racism that upheld mainstream Australia’s social reality? The need for an apology, and the history of political refusal to give it, is not a simple classification of one event, one moment in history. The ‘act’ of removing children is not a singular, one-off event. The need to do, the justification and rationalisation of the doing and what that means now, the having done, as well as the impact on those that were left behind, those that were taken, those that were born after, are all bound up in this particular “sorry”. Given that reluctance of the previous government to admit injustices were done and still exist, this utterance of the word “sorry” from the leader of the opposition precariously sat between freely offering it and reluctantly giving it. The above quote from Nelson, and its central concern of not performing any injustice towards mainstream Australia (“let us not” [my italics]) very definitely defines this sorry in relation to one particular injustice (the removing of Indigenous children) which therefore ignores the surrounding and complicit colonialist and racist attitudes, policies and practices that both institutionalised and perpetuated racism against Australia’s Indigenous peoples. This comment also clearly articulates the opposition’s concern that mainstream Australia not be offended by this act of offering the word “sorry”. Nelson’s address and the ways that it constructs what this “sorry” is for, what it isn’t for, and who it is for, continues to uphold and legitimate existing inequalities between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians. From the very start of Nelson’s “We Are Sorry – Address to Parliament”, two specific clarifications were emphasised: the “sorry” was directed at a limited time period in history; and that there is an ‘us’ and a ‘them’. Nelson defines this distinction: “two cultures; one ancient, proud and celebrating its deep bond with this land for some 50,000 years. The other, no less proud, arrived here with little more than visionary hope deeply rooted in gritty determination to build an Australian nation.” This cultural division maintains colonising discourses that define and label, legitimate and exclude groups and communities. It draws from the binary oppositions of self and other, white and black, civilised and primitive. It maintains a divide between the two predominant ideas of history that this country struggles with and it silences those in that space in between, ignoring for example, the effects of colonisation and miscegenation in blurring the lines between ‘primitive’ and ‘civilised’. Although acknowledging that Indigenous Australians inhabited this land for a good few thousand decades before the proud, gritty, determined visionaries of a couple of hundred years ago, the “sorry” that is to be uttered is only in relation to “the first seven decades of the 20th century”. Nelson establishes from the outset that any forthcoming apology, on behalf of “us” – read as non-Indigenous Anglo-Australians – in reference to ‘them’ – “those Aboriginal people forcibly removed” – is only valid for the “period within which these events occurred [which] was one that defined and shaped Australia”. My reading of this sectioning of a period in Australia’s history is that while recognising that certain colonising actions were unjust, specifically in this instance the removal of Indigenous children, this period of time is also seen as influential and significant to the growth of the country. What this does is to allow the important colonial enterprise to subsume the unjust actions by the colonisers by other important colonial actions. Explicit in Nelson’s address is that this particular time frame saw the nation of Australia reach the heights of achievements and is a triumphant period – an approach which extends beyond taking the highs with the lows, and the good with the bad, towards overshadowing any minor ‘unfortunate’ mistakes that might have been made, ‘occasionally’, along the way. Throughout the address, there are continual reminders to the listeners that the “us” should not be placed at a disadvantage in the act of saying “sorry”: to do so would be to create injustice, whereas this “sorry” is strictly about attempting to “address another”. By sectioning off a specific period in the history of colonised Australia, the assumption is that all that happened before 1910 and all that happened after 1970 are “sorry” free. This not only ignores the lead up to the official policy of removal, how it was sanctioned and the aftermath of removal as outlined in The Bringing Them Home Report (1997); it also prevents Indigenous concepts of time from playing a legitimate and recognised role in the construct of both history and society. Aboriginal time is cyclical and moves around important events: those events that are most significant to an individual are held closer than those that are insignificant or mundane. Aleksendar Janca and Clothilde Bullen state that “time is perceived in relation to the socially sanctioned importance of events and is most often identified by stages in life or historic relevance of events” (41). The speech attempts to distinguish between moments and acts in history: firmly placing the act of removing children in a past society and as only one act of injustice amongst many acts of triumph. “Our generation does not own these actions, nor should it feel guilt for what was done in many, but not all cases, with the best of intentions” (Nelson). What was done is still being felt by Indigenous Australians today. And by differentiating between those that committed these actions and “our generation”, the address relies on a linear idea of time, to distance any wrongdoing from present day white Australians. What I struggle with here is that those wrongdoings continue to be felt according to Indigenous concepts of time and therefore these acts are not in a far away past but very much felt in the present. The need to not own these actions further entrenches the idea of separateness between Indigenous Australia and non-Indigenous Australia. The fear of being guilty or at blame evokes notions of wrong and right and this address is at pains not to do that – not to lay blame or evoke shame. Nelson’s address is relying on a national identity that has historically silenced and marginalised Indigenous Australians. If there is no blame to be accepted, if there is no attached shame to be acknowledged (“great pride, but occasionally shame” (Nelson)) and dealt with, then national identity is implicitly one of “discovery”, peaceful settlement and progress. Where are the Aboriginal perspectives of history in this idea of a national identity – then and now? And does this mean that colonialism happened and is now over? State and territory actions upon, against and in exclusion of Indigenous Australians are not actions that can be positioned as past discriminations; they continue today and are a direct result of those that preceded them. Throughout his address, Nelson emphasises the progressiveness of “today” and how that owes its success to the “past”: “In doing so, we reach from within ourselves to our past, those whose lives connect us to it and in deep understanding of its importance to our future”. By relying on a dichotomous approach – us and them, white and black, past and present – Nelson emphasises the distance between this generation of Australia and any momentary unjust actions in the past. The belief is that time moves on – away from the past and towards the future. That advancement, progression and civilisation are linear movements, all heading towards a more enlightened state. “We will be at our best today – and every day – if we pause to place ourselves in the shoes of others, imbued with the imaginative capacity to see this issue through their eyes with decency and respect”. But where is the recognition that today’s experiences, the results of what has been created by the past, are also attached to the need to offer an apology? Nelson’s “we” (Anglo-Australians) are being asked to stop and think about how “they” (Aborigines) might see things differently to the mainstream norm. The implication here also is that “they” – members of the Stolen Generations – must be prepared to understand the position white Australia is coming from, and acknowledge the good that white Australia has achieved. Anglo-Australian pride and achievement is reinforced throughout the address as the basis on which our national identity is understood. Ignoring its exclusion and silencing of the Indigenous Australians to whom his “sorry” is directed, Nelson perpetuates this ideology here in his address: “In brutally harsh conditions, from the small number of early British settlers our non Indigenous ancestors have given us a nation the envy of any in the world”. This gift of a nation where there was none before disregards the acts of invasion, segregation, protection and assimilation that characterise the colonisation of this nation. It also reverts to romanticised settler notions of triumph over great adversities – a notion that could just as easily be attached to Indigenous Australians yet Nelson specifically addresses “our non Indigenous ancestors”. He does add “But Aboriginal Australians made involuntary sacrifices, different but no less important, to make possible the economic and social development of our modern [my emphasis] Australia.” Indigenous Australians certainly made voluntary sacrifices, similar to and different from those made by non Indigenous Australians (Indigenous Australians also went to both World Wars and fought for this nation) and a great deal of “our modern” country’s economic success was achieved on the backs of Blackfellas (Taylor 9). But “involuntary sacrifices” is surely a contradiction in terms, either intellectually shoddy or breathtakingly disingenuous. To make a sacrifice is to do it voluntarily, to give something up for a greater good. “Involuntary sacrifices”, like “collateral damage” and other calculatedly cold-blooded euphemisms, conveniently covers up the question of who was doing what to whom – of who was sacrificed, and by whom. In the attempt to construct a basis of equal contribution between Indigenous and non-Indigenous, as well as equal acts of struggle and triumphing, Nelson’s account of history and nation building draws from the positioning of the oppressors but tries to suppress any notion of racial oppression. It maintains the separateness of Indigenous experiences of colonisation from the colonisers themselves. His reiteration that these occasional acts of unjustness came from benevolent and charitable white Australians privileges non-Indigenous ways of knowing and doing over Indigenous ones and attempts to present them as untainted and innate as opposed to repressive, discriminatory and racist. We honour those in our past who have suffered and all those who have made sacrifices for us by the way we live our lives and shape our nation. Today we recommit to do so – as one people. (Nelson) The political need to identify as “one people” drives assimilation policies (the attitude at the very heart of removing Aboriginal children on the basis that they were Aboriginal and needed to be absorbed into one society of whites). By honouring everyone, and therefore taking the focus off any act of unjustness by non-Indigenous peoples on Indigenous peoples, Nelson’s narrative again upholds an idea of contemporary national identity that has not only romanticised the past but ignores the inequalities of the present day. He spends a good few hundred words reminding his listeners that white Australia deserves to maintain its hard won position. And there is no doubt he is talking to white Australia – his focus is on Western constructs of patriotism and success. He reverts to settler/colonial discourse to uphold ideas of equity and access: These generations considered their responsibilities to their country and one another more important than their rights. They did not buy something until they had saved up for it and values were always more important than value. Living in considerably more difficult times, they had dreams for our nation but little money. Theirs was a mesh of values enshrined in God, King and Country and the belief in something greater than yourself. Neglectful indifference to all they achieved while seeing their actions in the separations only, through the values of our comfortable, modern Australia, will be to diminish ourselves. In “the separations only…” highlights Nelson’s colonial logic, which compartmentalises time, space, people and events and tries to disconnect one colonial act from another. The ideology, attitudes and policies that allowed the taking of Indigenous children were not separate from all other colonial and colonising acts and processes. The desire for a White Australia, a clear cut policy which was in existence at the same time as protection, removal and assimilation policies, cannot be disassociated from either the taking of children or the creation of this “comfortable, modern Australia” today. “Neglectful indifference to all they achieved” could aptly be applied to Indigenous peoples throughout Australian history – pre and post invasion. Where is the active acknowledgment of the denial of Indigenous rights so that “these generations [of non-Indigenous Australians could] consider their responsibilities to their country and one another more important than their rights”? Nelson adheres to the colonialist national narrative to focus on the “positive”, which Patrick Wolfe has argued in his critique of settler colonialism, is an attempt to mask disruptive moments that reveal the scope of state and national power over Aboriginal Australians (33). After consistently reinforcing the colonial/settler narrative, Nelson’s address moves on to insert Indigenous Australians into a well-defined and confined space within a specific chapter of that narrative. His perfunctory overview of the first seven decades of the 20th century alludes to Protection Boards and Reserves, assimilation policies and Christianisation, all underlined with white benevolence. Having established the innocent, inherently humane and decent motivations of “white families”, he resorts to appropriating Indigenous people’s stories and experiences. In the retelling of these stories, two prominent themes in Nelson’s text become apparent. White fellas were only trying to help the poor Blackfella back then, and one need only glance at Aboriginal communities today to see that white fellas are only trying to help the poor Blackfella again. It is reasonably argued that removal from squalor led to better lives – children fed, housed and educated for an adult world of [sic] which they could not have imagined. However, from my life as a family doctor and knowing the impact of my own father’s removal from his unmarried teenaged mother, not knowing who you are is the source of deep, scarring sorrows the real meaning of which can be known only to those who have endured it. No one should bring a sense of moral superiority to this debate in seeking to diminish the view that good was being sought to be done. (Nelson) A sense of moral superiority is what motivates colonisation: it is what motivated the enforced removal of children. The reference to “removal from squalor” is somewhat reminiscent of the 1909 Aborigines Protection Act. Act No. 25, 1909, section 11(1) which states: The board may, in accordance with and subject to the provisions of the Apprentices Act, 1901, by indenture bind or cause to be bound the child of any aborigine, or the neglected child of any person apparently having an admixture of aboriginal blood in his veins, to be apprenticed to any master, and may collect and institute proceedings for the recovery of any wages payable under such indenture, and may expend the same as the board may think fit in the interest of the child. Every child so apprenticed shall be under the supervision of the board, or of such person that may be authorised in that behalf by the regulations. (144) Neglect was often defined as simply being Aboriginal. The representation that being removed would lead to a better life relies on Western attitudes about society and culture. It dismisses any notion of Indigenous rights to be Indigenous and defines a better life according to how white society views it. Throughout most of the 1900s, Aboriginal children that were removed to experience this better life were trained in positions of servants. Nelson’s inclusion of his own personal experience as a non Indigenous Australian who has experienced loss and sorrow sustains his textual purpose to reduce human experiences to a common ground, an equal footing – to make all injustices equal. And he finishes the paragraph off with the subtle reminder that this “sorry” is only for “those” Aboriginal Australians that were removed in the first seven decades of last century. After retelling the experience of one Indigenous person as told to the National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from their Families, he retells the experience of an Indigenous woman as told to a non-Indigenous man. The appropriate protocols concerning the re-using of Indigenous knowledge and intellectual copyright appeared to be absent in this address. Not only does the individual remain unacknowledged but the potential for misappropriating Indigenous experiences for non Indigenous purposes is apparent. The insertion of the story dismisses the importance of the original act of telling, and the significance of the unspeakable through decades of silence. Felman presents the complexities of the survivor’s tale: “the victim’s story has to overcome not just the silence of the dead but the indelible coercive power of the oppressor’s terrifying, brutal silencing of the surviving, and the inherent speechless silence of the living in the face of an unthinkable, unknowable, ungraspable event” (227). In telling this story Nelson unravelled the foundation of equality he had attempted to resurrect. And his indication towards current happenings in the Northern Territory only served to further highlight the inequities that Indigenous peoples continue to face, resist and surpass. Nelson’s statement that “separation was then, and remains today, a painful but necessary part of public policy in the protection of children” is another reminder of the “indelible coercive power of the oppressor’s terrifying” potential to repeat history. The final unmasking of the hypocritical and contested nature of Nelson’s national ideology and narrative is in his telling of the “facts” – the statistics concerning Indigenous life expectancy, Indigenous infant mortality rates, “diabetes, kidney disease, hospitalisation of women from assault, imprisonment, overcrowding, educational underperformance and unemployment”. These statistics are a result not of what Nelson terms “existential aimlessness” (immediately preceding paragraph) but of colonisation – theft of land, oppression, abuse, discrimination, and lack of any rights whether citizenship or Aboriginal. These contemporary experiences of Indigenous peoples are the direct linear result of the last two hundred years of white nation building. The address is concluded with mention of Neville Bonner, portrayed here as the perfect example of what reading, writing, expressing yourself with dignity and treating people with decency and courtesy can achieve. Bonner is presented as the ‘ideal’ Blackfella, a product of the assimilation period: he could read and write and was dignified, decent and courteous (and, coincidentally, Liberal). The inclusion of this reference to Bonner in the address may hint at the “My best friend is an Aborigine” syndrome (Heiss 71), but it also provides a discursive example to the listener of the ways in which ‘equalness’ is suggested, assumed, privileged or denied. It is a reminder, in the same vein of Patten and Ferguson’s fights for rights, that what is equal has always been apparent to the colonised. Your present official attitude is one of prejudice and misunderstanding … we are no more dirty, lazy stupid, criminal, or immoral than yourselves. Also, your slanders against our race are a moral lie, told to throw all the blame for your troubles on to us. You, who originally conquered us by guns against our spears, now rely on superiority of numbers to support your false claims of moral and intellectual superiority. After 150 years, we ask you to review the situation and give us a fair deal – a New Deal for Aborigines. The cards have been stacked against us, and we now ask you to play the game like decent Australians. Remember, we do not ask for charity, we ask for justice. Nelson quotes Bonner’s words that “[unjust hardships] can only be changed when people of non Aboriginal extraction are prepared to listen, to hear what Aboriginal people are saying and then work with us to achieve those ends”. The need for non-Indigenous Australians to listen, to be shaken out of their complacent equalness appears to have gone unheard. Fiumara, in her philosophy of listening, states: “at this point the opportunity is offered for becoming aware that the compulsion to win is due less to the intrinsic difficulty of the situation than to inhibitions induced by a non-listening language that prevents us from seeing that which would otherwise be clear” (198). It is this compulsion to win, or to at least not be seen to be losing that contributes to the unequalness of this particular “sorry” and the need to construct an equal footing. This particular utterance of sorry does not come from an acknowledged place of difference and its attached history of colonisation; instead it strives to create a foundation based on a lack of anyone being positioned on the high moral ground. It is an irony that pervades the address considering it was the coloniser’s belief in his/her moral superiority that took the first child to begin with. Nelson’s address attempts to construct the utterance of “sorry”, and its intended meaning in this specific context, on ‘equal’ ground: his representation is that we are all Australians, “us” and ‘them’ combined, “we” all suffered and made sacrifices; “we” all deserve respect and equal acknowledgment of the contribution “we” all made to this “enviable” nation. And therein lies the unequalness, the inequality, the injustice, of this particular “sorry”. This particular “sorry” is born from and maintains the structures, policies, discourses and language that led to the taking of Indigenous children in the first place. In his attempt to create a “sorry” that drew equally from the “charitable” as well as the “misjudged” deeds of white Australia, Nelson’s “We Are Sorry – Address to Parliament” increased the experiences of inequality. Chow writes that in the politics of admittance the equal depends on “acceptance by permission … and yet, being ‘admitted’ is never simply a matter of possessing the right permit, for validation and acknowledgment must also be present for admittance to be complete” (36-37). References Augoustinos, Martha, Amanda LeCouteur, and John Soyland. “Self-Sufficient Arguments in Political Rhetoric: Constructing Reconciliation and Apologizing to the Stolen Generations.” Discourse and Society 13.1 (2002): 105-142.Bringing Them Home: National Inquiry into the Separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Children from Their Families. Sydney: Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission, 1997.Aborigines Protection Act 1909: An Act to Provide for the Protection and Care of Aborigines; To Repeal the Supply of Liquors Aborigines Prevention Act; To Amend the Vagrancy Act, 1902, and the Police Offences (Amendment) Act, 1908; And for Purposes Consequent Thereon or Incidental Thereto. Assented to 20 Dec. 1909. Digital Collections: Books and Serial, National Library of Australia. 24 Mar. 2008 < http://www.nla.gov.au/apps/cdview?pi=nla.aus-vn71409-9x-s1-v >.Chow, Rey. “The Politics of Admittance: Female Sexual Agency, Miscegenation and the Formation of Community in Frantz Fanon.” In Anthony C. Alessandrini, ed. Frantz Fanon: Critical Perspectives. London: Routledge, 1999. 34-56.Felman, Shoshana. “Theaters of Justice: Arendt in Jerusalem, the Eichmann Trial and the Redefinition of Legal Meaning in the Wake of the Holocaust.” Critical Inquiry 27.2 (2001): 201-238.Fiumara, Gemma Corradi. The Other Side of Language: A Philosophy of Listening. London and New York: Routledge, 2006.Heiss, Anita. I’m Not a Racist But… UK: Salt Publishing, 2007.Janca, Aleksandar, and Clothilde Bullen. “Aboriginal Concept of Time and Its Mental Health Implications.” Australian Psychiatry 11 (Supplement 2003): 40-44.Nelson, Brendan. “We Are Sorry – Address to Parliament.” 14 Feb. 2008 < http://www.liberal.org.au/info/news/detail/20080213_ WearesorryAddresstoParliament.php >.Patten, Jack, and William Ferguson. Aborigines Claim Citizen Rights! A Statement for the Aborigines Progressive Association. Sydney: The Publicist, 1938.Taylor, Martin, and James Francis. Bludgers in Grass Castles: Native Title and the Unpaid Debts of the Pastoral Industry. Chippendale: Resistance Books, 1997.William, Ross. “‘Why Should I Feel Guilty?’ Reflections on the Workings of White-Aboriginal Relations.” Australian Psychologist 35.2 (2000): 136-142.Wolfe, Patrick. Settler Colonialism and the Transformation of Anthropology: The Politics and Poetics of an Ethnographic Event. London and New York: Cassell, 1999.