Artykuły w czasopismach na temat „Absorbed legal person”

Da'wah activities should be able to bring about changes in the body of the ummah, including forming legal behavior which includes legal compliance, legal awareness, understanding of rights and obligations as well as ethics and morals. The more often a person participates in da'wah activities, the better his legal behavior should be. By using a qualitative method, this research tries to reveal the contribution of da'wah in shaping the legal behavior of Muslim communities in the city of Mataram. The results of this study show the contribution of da'wah in the formation of legal behavior of Muslim communities in the city of Mataram. The contribution is influenced by four factors, namely first, the attachement between the community (mad'u) and Tuan Guru/Ustadz (da'i). Second, the commitment of the community (mad'u) to follow what is conveyed by da'i in the da'wah activities they participate in. Third, involvement (involvment) refers to the intensity of the community in da'wah activities. Fourth, belief refers to the internalization of the values of religious teachings absorbed in the da'wah activities they participate in.

The author uses constitutional norms guaranteeing each person a right to the compensation of damages from the state if these damages were inflicted by unlawful actions of bodies of state power and their officials (Art. 53 of the Constitution of the Russian Federation), as well as the clauses interpreting these norms under Part 3, Art. 133, Art. 139 of the Criminal Procedure Code of the Russian Federation and the legal doctrine of the state’s responsibility for damages inflicted by the unlawful use of procedural coercion measures to «the third persons» during criminal proceedings; they are used to identify and analyze the features of an independent institute of the compensation of damages that is not absorbed in the institute of rehabilitation. Special attention is paid to objective and subjective factors constraining its application in court practice (the ongoing process of the development of this institute; drawbacks of the current legal regulation of the corresponding relations; certain consequences of the convergence of criminal and civil procedures of redressing damages together with the attempts to give the civil procedural form to the criminal procedure relations of this type; the lack of unanimity in the court practice in this sphere).The author outlines and substantiates specific trends in the novelization of the Criminal Procedure Code of the Russian Federation aimed at completing the legislative formulation of the unique criminal procedure means of redressing damages to a wide range of persons who suffered property harm in connection with criminal proceedings. Special attention is paid to the conceptualization of theoretical ideas on the essence of provisions in Part 3, Art. 133, Art. 139 of the Criminal Procedure Code of the Russian Federation, to identifying their relation to the «rehabilitation» norms of Art. 18 of the Criminal Procedure Code of the Russian Federation.

Liquidation of legal entities engaged in agricultural production is one of the ways to cessation of them. The legal regime of liquidation is the legal registration of the irrevocable termination of the legal entity. Their special legal status should be taken into account during the liquidation procedure of agricultural organizations. Such organizations occupy an important place in the system of production, processing and distribution of agricultural products, and thus – in ensuring food security of the state. Therefore, the initiation of the procedure of liquidation of the studied subjects should be carried out taking into account the seasonal nature of agricultural production activities, the need to collect and sell agricultural products, etc. The grounds for liquidation should be understood as legal facts determined by law or the constituent document, with which the legislator connects the beginning of the liquidation procedure, ie the adoption of the relevant decision by the authorized person (authority). Legitimate grounds for liquidation of a legal entity are regulated by Art. 110 of the Civil code of Ukraine from which instructions it is seen that the legal entity is liquidated: at the will of its participants or the authorized body; on the basis of a court decision on the termination of a legal entity not related to its bankruptcy. The special legislation, which has defined the features of the formation, operation and termination of certain types of agricultural legal entities, has enshrined similar in content provisions. The key basis for voluntary liquidation is the decision of the participants or the body of the legal entity (because in fact the term for which the legal entity was established and the achievement of the purpose for which it was created are "absorbed" by the presence of such a decision). Instead, the grounds for compulsory liquidation are: court decision on liquidation of a legal entity due to violations committed during its creation, which cannot be eliminated, at the suit of the participant of the legal entity or the relevant public authority; by a court decision on the liquidation of a legal entity in other cases established by law – at the request of the relevant public authority.

This study seeks to find solutions to the rampant corruption practices in Indonesia today. The purpose of this study is to further reason about the legal norms contained in the legislation related to law enforcement corruption eradication in Indonesia by using the approach of Islamic law theory. The research method used in this study is a normative juridical approach that is done by examining the theories, concepts, principles of law, legislation by putting the law as a building system of legal norms. the results of the study conducted that the legal norms contained in the legislation on the eradication of corruption contains only two elements, namely AR-Rashi and al-murtashi, on the contrary in Islamic law there are three elements of ar-Rashi, al-murtashi and ar-Ra'isy. If the element of ar-raisy (intermediary) is not absorbed into the sub-system of Corruption Eradication law, it will become very weak. the concept of punishment in the Corruption Eradication legislation is limited to imprisonment and fines, while in Islamic law it is divided into three categories, namely; First, the ta'zīr law which is about the body consisting of the death penalty and volumes; second, the ta'zīr punishment which is about the independence or freedom of a person in the form of imprisonment; and Third, ta'zīr law regarding property, such as punitive damages or fines and confiscation so that Islamic law looks more comprehensive and systematic.

In the article from positions of general theoretic analysis it is expounded the authorial attempt of selection and opening is realized essence of factors, under act of that a law and order of European Union was formed. Analyzing the doctrine going near determination of maintenance of category "law" and order and taking into account legal positions of Court of European Union the authorial attempt of selection of the system of factors of forming of intergovernmental law and order of European Union is realized. In particular, it is influence of regional European political configuration of mutual relations of the states inter se; a law and order of European Union was formed on the basis of statement and unitization of going near perception of universal values of alliance; influence of integration processes between the European states on a law and order of ЄС, specific of legal communication between the states of European о Union, expansion of european legal space and exterritorial action of intergovernmental European right; influence is on transformation of law and order of ЄС of global terms and threats. Drawn conclusion that a law and order of European Union are the legal, political and cultural phenomenon., what can be considered acquisition of European people of загальноцивілізаційного value. A law and order of European Union was formed under act of many factors, character of that absorbed for itself the features of geopolitical world and european regional situation, beginning from middle ХХ century and to these days, cooperation of national cultures of people of Europe, by the search of optimal ways of economic, political and cultural integration European societies. In the conditions of activation of european integration of Ukraine actual is deep development of questions of influence of the european legal system on the legal system of Ukraine taking into account the range of problems of modern development of our state Key words: European Union, Ukraine, Legal procedure of the community, european integration, interstate law, law and freedom of person, political consensus.

Abstract In order to achieve fundamental results in punishing corruption crime, we should adhere to the legal anti-corruption pattern, advance with the Rule of Law, and make anti-corruption standardized and institutionalized. The bottom line is that we should reform and improve the criminal procedure for corruption crime in China. Problems in the current procedure for corruption crime mainly include: the presumption rules for corruption crime have not been established, the absence of stigma witness exemption system, the witness protection system, the investigation jurisdiction are not perfect, the supervision of investigation is weak, the lack of absentee trial system for corrupt crime, the non-institutionalization of off-site trial, technical investigation measures may be abused, and difficulties in person sought for corruption and asset recovery. To reform and improve the procedure for corruption crime in China, it is suggested that special procedures for corruption crime be set up as appropriate, relevant contents of the United Nations Convention against Corruption (UNCAC) should be reasonably absorbed, and efforts should be made to promote the institutionalization of the reform achievements in criminal procedure of corruption crime.

The article is devoted to the analysis of the legal category of public safety and order, because it is currently relevant and researched in our country. This question plays an important and great role in our social life, which is determined by the highest social values of a person and a citizen. Therefore, it is the state that is entrusted with the task of fully ensuring public safety, public order and peace of our society.The article studies the scientific research in this area, considers and analyses many views of state and foreign scientists, pays much attention to the meaning and concept of "public safety" and "public order", defines the purpose and objectives of the scientific research. A comparison of concepts with related notions such as “public safety” and “public order” has been also made. Ukrainian explanatory dictionary has been used for analysis and justification.The article also mentions many scholars, their works and their interpretations, as well as their agreement and disagreement regarding the considerations of public safety and order. The view on the definition of the concepts of public safety and public order in the context of the National Police of Ukraine has been specified. And it has been also stated that the concept of “public safety” and “public order” is absorbed by a broader and more meaningful concept, such as “civil safety” and “civil order”.The opinions regarding the identification of concepts and terms have been substantiated. It has been appealed to the Basic Law of the State, namely the Constitution of Ukraine and to the Law of Ukraine “On the National Police of Ukraine”. The concepts of “public safety” and “public order”, as well as “civil safety” and “civil order” have been studied. The tasks and principles of the National Police of Ukraine have been mentioned. Attention has also been paid to the broad and narrow aspects of the concept of “public order”. At the end of the article, it has been rightly noted that the simultaneous use or identification of these concepts continues the legal conflict in the field of public security and order.

<p><em>This paper aims to explore the existence of a new form of business entity. Small and micro enterprises in Indonesia have always supported the sectoral structure of the national economy and absorbed the majority of the wage workforce. But regulatory hurdles keep them from reaching their full potential. A new law, Law of the Republic of Indonesia Number 11 of 2020 concerning Job Creation, Job Promotion and Employment Services, was promulgated by the Government other than the DPR in the context of encouraging the competitiveness of the national economy and maximizing existing potential. One of the provisions in the Act encourages the formation of a new legal entity called a Limited Liability Company with Micro Small Business Criteria which can only be established by one person. its position in corporate law, its organizational structure, organ responsibilities, and shareholder limitations and legal organ responsibilities in the event of bankruptcy. By conducting a literature review using legal literature, legal concepts, and referring to legal documents and laws as the main research material. One of the recommendations and conclusions of the research is that the company's liability is clearly limited, requiring oversight to ensure professional management and to prevent bankruptcy or dissolution of the company.</em></p><p> </p><p>Tulisan ini bertujuan untuk mengeksplorasi keberadaan bentuk baru dari badan usaha. Usaha kecil dan mikro di Indonesia selalu mendukung struktur sektor perekonomian nasional dan menyerap sebagian besar tenaga kerja upahan. Namun hambatan regulasi membuat mereka tidak dapat mencapai potensi penuhnya. Undang-undang baru, Undang-Undang Republik Indonesia Nomor 11 Tahun Tahun 2020 tentang Cipta Kerja, Promosi Lapangan Kerja, dan Pelayanan Ketenagakerjaan, diundangkan oleh pemerintah selain DPR dalam rangka mendorong daya saing perekonomian nasional dan memaksimalkan potensi yang ada. Salah satu ketentuan dalam undang-undang tersebut mendorong pembentukan badan hukum baru yang disebut perseroan terbatas dengan kriteria usaha kecil mikro yang hanya dapat didirikan oleh satu orang. kedudukannya dalam hukum perusahaan, struktur organisasinya, tanggung jawab organ, dan batasan pemegang saham dan tanggung jawab organ hukum jika terjadi kebangkrutan. Dengan melakukan kajian pustaka dengan menggunakan literatur hukum, konsep hukum, dan mengacu pada dokumen hukum dan undang-undang sebagai bahan penelitian utama. Salah satu rekomendasi dan kesimpulan penelitian adalah bahwa tanggung jawab perusahaan jelas terbatas, memerlukan pengawasan untuk memastikan pengelolaan yang profesional dan untuk mencegah kebangkrutan atau pembubaran perusahaan. <strong><em></em></strong></p><p><strong> <em> </em></strong></p><p><strong><em> </em></strong></p><p align="center"> </p><p> </p><p><strong><em> </em></strong></p>

The proposed article attempts to reveal the process of becoming a politician, and not merely an ordinary politician, but one who develops and imposes a large-scale policy that independently determines the options for the development of his country: the creator of the Second Empire in Germany, the great statesman Otto von Bismarck. The goal of the study was to analyze the legal, political, and psychological factors that contributed to the rise of the first civil servant in the empire. The life and fate of each person are in the crosshairs objective and subjective circumstances interact. The role of external, otherworldly forces, colloquially called chance, is also not to be excluded in any such rise. Contrary to popular belief, people are not born clean slates at all. Instead, each bears the stamp of parental education and the personality and health imposed by the genetics of distant ancestors. From the enormous variety of factors, experiences, and relationships within which a personality is formed, the authors of this study chose reference points that, in their opinion, contributed most to forming the contours (or images) of Bismarck as an outstanding politician. These include the aspects of his character that absorbed and reflected the influence of his ancestors and parents (most of all, his mother), as well as the principles that prevailed in the German educational system and the public service of Germany. In this objective review, the subjective (personal) properties of the applicant for the highest administrative position in the state were acutely manifested: a hypermotivation to acquire power and the ability to recognize the importance of representing state interests for themselves. In their conclusions, the authors relied on collections of Bismarcks letters, on his parliamentary and political speeches, and other documents that accompanied his life. They also relied upon their own interpretation of the distant events of Bismarcks life and times. The study thus acquired an intersectoral character. Although the historical subtext of our research is obvious, the proposed material will also be of interest to modern politicians.

Indonesia as a legal state must guarantee the human rights of all citizens, including persons with disabilities. Protection of the rights of persons with disabilities is regulated in international legal instruments as well as several national legal instruments. At the regional level, the Bali Provincial Government issued Bali Local Regulation Number 8 of 2015 concerning Protection and Fulfillment of the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. Regarding the rights to the employment of persons with disabilities in the Bali Regional Regulation there is a concept discrepancy with the provisions in the Disabled Persons Act regarding the percentage of disability employment in Regional Companies. Problems found include how the concept of the problem and the ideal legal regulatory solutions regarding the obligations of Bali Regional Companies to employ persons with disabilities. The purpose of this study is for the disability workforce to be absorbed maximally in the Regional and private companies. To obtain answers to these problems, normative research methods are used with conceptual approaches and regulatory approaches. Conclusions in this discussion that in Bali Regional Regulation Number 8 of 2015 concerning the protection and fulfillment of the rights of persons with disabilities there are still problems with corporate concepts that combine the concepts of Regional Companies and private companies. ideally in the future classification of company concept arrangements will be carried out so that the obligations of Regional and private companies in employing disability workers fulfill material values ??and formal legislation. Negara Indonesia sebagai negara hukum wajib menjamin hak asasi seluruh warga negara termasuk penyandang disabilitas. Perlindungan hak asasi penyandang disabilitas diatur dalam instrumen hukum Internasional serta beberapa instrument hukum nasional. Di tingkat daerah, Pemerintah Provinsi Bali menerbitkan Perda Bali Nomor 8 Tahun 2015 tentang Perlindungan Dan Pemenuhan Hak Penyandang Disabilitas. Perihal hak atas pekerjaan penyandang disabilitas dalam Perda Bali terdapat ketidaksesuaian konsep dengan ketentuan dalam Undang-Undang Penyandang Disabilitas perihal persentase penerimaan tenaga kerja disabilitas pada Perusahaan Daerah. Masalah yang ditemukan antara lain bagaimana problem konsep serta solusi pengaturan hukum yang ideal perihal kewajiban Perusahaan Daerah Bali Mempekerjakan penyandang disabilitas. Tujuan dari penelitian ini agar tenaga kerja disabilitas dapat terserap dengan maksimal pada Perusahaan Daerah maupun swasta. Untuk memperoleh jawaban dari permasalahan tersebut digunakan metode penelitian normative dengan pendekatan konsep dan pendekatan peraturan perundang-undangan. Simpulan dalam pembahasan ini bahwa dalam Perda Bali Nomor 8 Tahun 2015 tentang perlindungan dan pemenuhan hak penyandang disabilitas masih terdapat masalah konsep perusahaan yang menggabungkan konsep Perusahaan Daerah dan perusahaan swasta. idealnya ke depan dilakukan klasifikasi pengaturan konsep perusahaan sehingga kewajiban Perusahaan Daerah dan swasta dalam mempekerjakan tenaga kerja disabilitas memenuhi nilai material dan formal peraturan perundang-undangan.

В научной литературе понятие поглощения компаний (в том числе недружественного поглощения) зачастую рассматривается в сравнении с понятием слияния. При этом сложилось несколько различных подходов к решению вопроса о соотношении указанных понятий. В свою очередь, понятие «поглощение» сложно назвать юридическим термином, имеющим строго определенное содержание, с точки зрения российского права, чем и обусловлено его использование в научной литературе в качестве обобщающего понятия, характеризующего методы и средства установления контроля над юридическим лицом. Законодателем понятие «поглощение» упоминается лишь в некоторых экономико-правовых актах. Сущностным различием между слиянием и поглощением, согласно рассматриваемому подходу, является возможность осуществления реорганизации в форме слияния только на добровольных началах, в то время как понятие «поглощение» имеет, как правило, преимущественно негативную окраску и во многих случаях осуществляется вопреки воле и интересам руководителей, учредителей (участников) поглощаемого юридического лица. Кроме того, в случае, если поглощение понимается как установление контроля над юридическим лицом, его результатом, в отличие от слияния, не будет являться прекращение существовавшего юридического лица и возникновение нового участника гражданского оборота: прежнее юридическое лицо продолжает функционировать, однако при этом происходит смена лиц, юридически или фактически определяющих действия компании. In scientific literature, the concept of company takeovers (including hostile takeovers) is often compared with the concept of mergers. At the same time, several different approaches have developed to solving the problem of the relationship between these concepts. In turn, the concept of "takeover" can hardly be called a legal term that has a strictly defined content from the point of view of Russian law, which explains its use in scientific literature as a general concept characterizing the methods and means of establishing control over a legal entity. The legislator mentions the concept of "absorption" only in some economic and legal acts. The essential difference between mergers and acquisitions, according to the approach under consideration, is the possibility of reorganization in the form of a merger only on a voluntary basis, while the concept of “takeover” has, as a rule, a predominantly negative connotation and in many cases is carried out against the will and interests of the leaders. founders (participants) of the absorbed legal entity. In addition, if the takeover is understood as the establishment of control over a legal entity, its result, unlike a merger, will not be the termination of the existing legal entity and the emergence of a new participant in the civil turnover: the former legal entity continues to function, however, there is a change of persons that legally or de facto determine the actions of the company.

Objective: to form a holistic view of the unconditional basic income as a tool of social protection, taking into account the changes in the labor sphere and allowing to solve a number of growing problems associated with the consequences of the economy digitalization, as well as to assess the prospects of creating legal regulation on this issue. Methods: the study was conducted using both general and specific scientific methods, including analysis and synthesis, formal-legal method, systemic and comparative approaches, methods of legal forecasting and legal modeling. Results: unconditional basic income can become one of the elements of a new model of social security based on the unstable nature of labor relations, which begins to prevail over the model of sustainable employment traditional for industrial society. If established, this institution will be cross-sectoral within the labor law and social security law, providing social protection simultaneously to all members of society, most of whom in the near future will face an increased risk of being absorbed by technological unemployment. Unconditional basic income as an element of the social protection system will have to comply with the principle of the universal nature of protection based on social solidarity, on the one hand, and to take into account the need to balance the interests of the parties, on the other hand. As experimental models of basic income, which can be put into practice in the coming years, we can name the model of basic income as a measure of social support for persons involved in atypical forms of employment. This model will affect a number of existing provisions of labor legislation and will allow over time, in case of technological unemployment, to expand the circle of unconditional basic income recipients to all people. Scientific novelty: it consists in the fact that the unconditional basic income is analyzed from the viewpoint of its compliance with the fundamental principles of labor, employment, and social security. Practical significance: it consists in revealing the significance of basic income for the implementation of social policy and in forming recommendations for modeling experiments to introduce the unconditional basic income in the Russian Federation.

Purpose. The purpose of the article is to critically analyze the role, advanced provisions andshortcomings of the Law of Ukraine “On Administrative Procedure”, based on the doctrines ofadministrative law, in particular, regarding the development of the theory of administrative lawof martial law based on it.Methods. The system of methods of scientific knowledge was used when forming the generalizationsand conclusions of the article. The method of system analysis made it possible to identify the placeand role of the Law of Ukraine “On Administrative Procedure” in the system of sources of lawand public administration. Dialectical philosophical method to critically examine it. The formaldogmaticmethod provided an analysis of its provisions. The inductive purpose in combinationwith forecasting methods made it possible to determine directions for improving the theory ofadministrative law of the security and defense sector of Ukraine under martial law conditions.Results. The newest theory of administrative law of Ukraine is advanced in the EuropeanCommunity. It absorbed the best examples of the theory of administrative law of Germany, France,and some other countries. It is based on European values and is characterized by people-centeredfactors of democracy, rule of law, and patriotism in repelling the full-scale invasion of Russianterroristforces in Ukraine.Having reached perfection from the point of view of the foundations of European values, thetheory of administrative law of Ukraine did not become dogmatic. It continues to systematicallydevelop in an evolutionary way, in terms of providing support to all public sectors, spheres andbranches of public administration. It has been critically noted that in many aspects the theoryof administrative law lags behind the requirements (practice) of martial law. From Ukrainianadministrative scientists, military personnel of the security and defense forces, civil society andthe public apparatus of the state require answers to a number of important challenges regardingvolunteering, the ratio of public administration to the protection of military and state secretsand freedom of speech, ensuring discipline in the units of the security and defense forces, thepeculiarities of public administration in temporarily occupied territories, ensuring the rightsand interests of temporarily displaced persons, features of the selection of candidates for publicpositions under martial law, etc. Ukraine has all the conditions for solving these problems. Afterall, during independence, more than 15 powerful scientific schools of administrative law werecreated and are successfully functioning. The Law of Ukraine “On Administrative Procedure” did not fundamentally change the theory ofadministrative law of Ukraine. However, its norms will be stitched with a red thread in a new way,and in a more relief way, all the existing matter of administrative law.The victory of Ukraine in the war for independence is uncompromising, because the Ukrainianpeople cannot allow a repetition of the 1932/1933 famine, other types of murder, maiming andabuse of the Rashists in all of Ukraine. At the same time, the democratic international communitywill not allow this. Pouring blood, Ukrainian soldiers give it not only for the citizens of Ukraine,but for all the peoples of the EU, practically the entire democratic world, protecting them fromtotalitarianism. That is why Ukraine receives help with weapons and public finances from dozensof countries (mostly from the USA) not as a beggar’s submission, but as a nation that singlehandedlydefends the values of the entire democratic world from the rascal plague.Martial law is ensured on the basis of the theory of administrative law, accordingly, the lawmakingand law-enforcing activity of the public administration acquires a more administrativelypowerful character. That requires a new look at the theory of administrative law, which shouldreveal the principles for effectively repelling the military aggression of the Russian-terroristforces in Ukraine. The guiding principle here is that martial law should not lead to the violationof the rights and freedoms of citizens, but can only minimally limit them within the objectivelynecessary limits.Of great importance in this should be provided by the principles, and if the war drags on, thendirectly by the norms of the new Law of Ukraine “On Administrative Procedure”. Which tookits integral place in the system of main sources of administrative law. According to the intentionof the creators of the administrative reform, this Law should be included in the second bookof the conditional “Administrative Code of Ukraine” (practically a collection of laws of themain sources of administrative law), which, in addition to it, includes the Code of Ukraine onadministrative offenses (Book 1), the Code of administrative proceedings (Book 3), the totality ofthe Law of Ukraine “On the Prevention of Corruption” and the rules of ethical behavior (Book4), which are approved by subordinate regulatory legal acts of administrative bodies for varioustypes of public administration by branch.Conclusions. The theory of administrative law of Ukraine in the context of the Law of Ukraine“On Administrative Procedure” and martial law in Ukraine is based on European values and ischaracterized by people-centeredness, factors of democracy, rule of law, patriotism in repellingthe full-scale invasion of Russian-terrorist troops in Ukraine.The Law of Ukraine “On Administrative Procedure” has taken its integral place in the system ofcompilation of the main sources of administrative law. It is a conditional “Administrative Codeof Ukraine”. Its basic provisions are perfect, because the legislator in them practically legalizedthe doctrinal developments of Ukrainian scientists with the norms of the Law. However, scientistsremain indebted to the heroes of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, other security and defenseforces, volunteers, refugees, temporary migrants, because we have not yet developed a theory ofadministrative law for the period of martial law.

The Constitutional texts around the world affirms the right of citizens to treatment and to adequate health care as an inherent constitutional right. This right has been more important in times of health epidemics. One of the most important of these is the COVED 19 epidemic. In the context of the effective of this constitutional rights, the important question is who is the responsible of giving this legal ids to those to the injures ? There is no doubt that the answer should be understanding id depth way of the concept of legal aid as one of the broad concepts within which several concepts are absorbed, and an examination of the rules governing the determination of legal responsibility and its mandate with a view to showing the burden of liability. With regard to the conflict between the State, on the one hand, and the actors involved in the provision of legal assistance, it is necessary to identify the legal person responsibility for providing legal aids, on the other hand, especially the actors involved in providing such aids. The researcher will compare between tow legal systems the Egyptian and the Saadian.

Abstract Nuclear Medicine (NM) professionals are potentially exposed to high doses of ionizing radiation, particularly in the skin of the hands. Ring dosimeters are used by the workers to ensure extremity doses are kept below the legal limits. However, ring dosimeters are often susceptible to large uncertainties, so it is difficult to ensure a correct measurement using the traditional occupational monitoring methods. An alternative solution is to calculate the absorbed dose by using Monte Carlo (MC) simulations. This method could reduce the uncertainty in dose calculation if the exact positions of the worker and the radiation source are represented in these simulations. In this study we present a set of computer vision and artificial intelligence (AI) algorithms that allow us to track the exact position of unshielded syringes and the hands of NM workers. We showcase a possible hardware configuration to acquire the necessary input data for the algorithms. And finally, we assess the tracking confidence of our software. The tracking accuracy achieved for the syringe detection was 57% and for the hand detection 98%.

The article examines the basics of the International Criminal Court (ICC) Prosecutor's activity concerning children, set out in a document entitled "Policy on Children" issued in 2016 (hereinafter - Policy). The Policy has made a significant contribution to the development of international criminal prosecution of persons responsible for harming children during an armed conflict or a situation of violence. The ICC's policies and practice primarily consider the interests of children who have been victims of international crimes or who interact with the ICC as witnesses. The author draws attention to the fact that the Policy reflects the personal jurisdiction of the ICC, according to which the Court prosecutes only persons who have reached 18 years. Therefore, younger children involved in international crimes are considered victims of the ICC regardless of their motives. The author demonstrates how the essential components of international criminal justice - complementarity and promotion of the interests of victims - find their practical significance in the Policy. These principles are fundamental at the stage of the ICC's preliminary examination of a situation where the Prosecutor takes special care to assess the impact of a particular context of armed conflict or violence on the rights and interests of children. It is crucial to respect the interests of the child at the stage of investigation when the Court interacts with children victims and children witnesses. The author shows that the Policy has fully absorbed the international legal framework of justice for children, in particular those developed within the UN, and focused on providing necessary guarantees to children victims and children witnesses, taking into account their vulnerability and special needs. An analysis of the Court's case-law shows that analysing the ICC's decisions in cases where children have been victims of international crimes, the guaranteeing of the children victims’ rights to reparations remains a pressing issue and challenge for the ICC.

Property as both an idea and a practice has been interpreted through the prism of a liberal, law and economics paradigm since at least the 18th century. This dominant (and domineering) perspective stresses the primacy of individualism, the power of exclusion, and the values of private commodity. By contrast, concepts of property that evolved out of the counterculture of the 1960s and early 1970s challenged this hegemony. Countercultural, or Aquarian, ideas of property stressed pre-liberal, long forgotten property norms such as sociability, community, inclusion and personhood, and contested a private uniformity that seemed “totalizing and universalizing” (Blomley, Unsettling 102). This paper situates what it terms “Aquarian property” in the context of emergent property theory in the 1960s and 1970s, and the propertied practices these new theories engendered. Importantly, this paper also grounds Aquarian ideas of property to location. As legal geographers observe, the law inexorably occurs in place as well as time. “Nearly every aspect of law is located, takes place, is in motion, or has some spatial frame of reference” (Braverman et al. 1). Property’s radical yet simultaneously ancient alter-narrative found fertile soil where the countercultural experiment flourished. In Australia, one such place was the green, sub-tropical landscape of the New South Wales Northern Rivers, home of the 1973 Australian Union of Student’s Aquarius Festival at Nimbin. The Counterculture and Property Theory Well before the “Age of Aquarius” entered western youth consciousness (Munro-Clark 56), and 19 years before the Nimbin Aquarius Festival, US legal scholar Felix Cohen defined property in seminally private and exclusionary terms. To the world: Keep off X unless you have my permission, which I may grant or withhold.Signed: Private citizenEndorsed: The state. (374) Cohen’s formula was private property at its 1950s apogee, an unambiguous expression of its centrality to post-war materialism. William Blackstone’s famous trope of property as “that sole and despotic dominion” had become self-fulfilling (Rose, Canons). Why had this occurred? What had made property so narrow and instrumentalist to a private end? Several property theorists identify the enclosure period in the 17th and 18th centuries as seminal to this change (Blomley, Law; Graham). The enclosures, and their discourse of improvement and modernity, saw ancient common rights swept away in favour of the liberal private right. Property diversity was supplanted by monotony, group rights by the individual, and inclusion by exclusion. Common property rights were rights of shared use, traditionally agrarian incidents enjoyed through community membership. However, for the proponents of enclosure, common rights stood in the way of progress. Thus, what was once a vested right (such as the common right to glean) became a “mere practice”, condemned by its “universal promiscuity” and perceptions of vagrancy (Buck 17-8). What was once sited to context, to village and parish, evolved into abstraction. And what had meaning for person and place, “a sense of self; […] a part of a tribe’ (Neeson 180), became a tradable commodity, detached and indifferent to the consequences of its adverse use (Leopold). These were the transformed ideas of property exported to so-called “settler” societies, where colonialists demanded the secure property rights denied to them at home. In the common law tradition, a very modern yet selective amnesia took hold, a collective forgetting of property’s shared and sociable past (McLaren). Yet, property as commodity proved to be a narrow, one-sided account of property, an unsatisfactory “half right” explanation (Alexander 2) that omits inconvenient links between ownership on the one hand, and self and place on the other. Pioneering US conservationist Aldo Leopold detected as much a few years before Felix Cohen’s defining statement of private dominance. In Leopold’s iconic A Sand County Almanac, he wrote presciently of the curious phenomenon of hardheaded farmers replanting selected paddocks with native wildflowers. As if foreseeing what the next few decades may bring, Leopold describes a growing resistance to the dominant property paradigm: I call it Revolt – revolt against the tedium of the merely economic attitude towards land. We assume that because we had to subjugate the land to live on it, the best farm is therefore the one most completely tamed. These […] farmers have learned from experience that the wholly tamed farm offers not only a slender livelihood but a constricted life. (188)By the early 1960s, frustrations over the constrictions of post-war life were given voice in dissenting property literature. Affirming that property is a social institution, emerging ideas of property conformed to the contours of changing values (Singer), and the countercultural zeitgeist sweeping America’s universities (Miller). Thus, in 1964, Charles Reich saw property as the vanguard for a new civic compact, an ambitious “New Property” that would transform “government largess” into a property right to address social inequity. For Joseph Sax, property scholar and author of a groundbreaking citizen’s manifesto, the assertion of public property rights were critical to the protection of the environment (174). And in 1972, to Christopher Stone, it seemed a natural property incident that trees should enjoy equivalent standing to legal persons. In an age when “progress” was measured by the installation of plastic trees in Los Angeles median strips (Tribe), jurists aspired to new ideas of property with social justice and environmental resonance. Theirs was a scholarly “Revolt” against the tedium of property as commodity, an act of resistance to the centuries-old conformity of the enclosures (Blomley, Law). Aquarian Theory in Propertied Practice Imagining new property ideas in theory yielded in practice a diverse Aquarian tenure. In the emerging communes and intentional communities of the late 1960s and early 1970s, common property norms were unwittingly absorbed into their ethos and legal structure (Zablocki; Page). As a “way out of a dead-end future” (Smith and Crossley), a generation of young, mostly university-educated people sought new ways to relate to land. Yet, as Benjamin Zablocki observed at the time, “there is surprisingly little awareness among present-day communitarians of their historical forebears” (43). The alchemy that was property and the counterculture was given form and substance by place, time, geography, climate, culture, and social history. Unlike the dominant private paradigm that was placeless and universal, the tenurial experiments of the counter-culture were contextual and diverse. Hence, to generalise is to invite the problematic. Nonetheless, three broad themes of Aquarian property are discernible. First, property ceased being a vehicle for the acquisition of private wealth; rather it invested self-meaning within a communitarian context, “a sense of self [as] a part of a tribe.” Second, the “back to the land” movement signified a return to the country, an interregnum in the otherwise unidirectional post-enclosure drift to the city. Third, Aquarian property was premised on obligation, recognising that ownership was more than a bundle of autonomous rights, but rights imbricated with a corresponding duty to land health. Like common property and its practices of sustained yield, Aquarian owners were environmental stewards, with inter-connected responsibilities to others and the earth (Page). The counterculture was a journey in self-fulfillment, a search for personal identity amidst the empowerment of community. Property’s role in the counterculture was to affirm the under-regarded notion of property as propriety; where ownership fostered well lived and capacious lives in flourishing communities (Alexander). As Margaret Munro-Clark observed of the early 1970s, “the enrichment of individual identity or selfhood [is] the distinguishing mark of the current wave of communitarianism” (33). Or, as another 1970s settler remarked twenty years later, “our ownership means that we can’t liquefy our assets and move on with any appreciable amount of capital. This arrangement has many advantages; we don’t waste time wondering if we would be better off living somewhere else, so we have commitment to place and community” (Metcalf 52). In personhood terms, property became “who we are, how we live” (Lismore Regional Gallery), not a measure of commoditised worth. Personhood also took legal form, manifested in early title-holding structures, where consensus-based co-operatives (in which capital gain was precluded) were favoured ideologically over the capitalist, majority-rules corporation (Munro-Clark). As noted, Aquarian property was also predominantly rural. For many communitarians, the way out of a soulless urban life was to abandon its difficulties for the yearnings of a simpler rural idyll (Smith and Crossley). The 1970s saw an extraordinary return to the physicality of land, measured by a willingness to get “earth under the nails” (Farran). In Australia, communities proliferated on the NSW Northern Rivers, in Western Australia’s southwest, and in the rural hinterlands behind Queensland’s Sunshine Coast and Cairns. In New Zealand, intentional communities appeared on the rural Coromandel Peninsula, east of Auckland, and in the Golden Bay region on the remote northwestern tip of the South Island. In all these localities, land was plentiful, the climate seemed sunny, and the landscape soulful. Aquarians “bought cheap land in beautiful places in which to opt out and live a simpler life [...] in remote backwaters, up mountains, in steep valleys, or on the shorelines of wild coastal districts” (Sargisson and Sargent 117). Their “hard won freedom” was to escape from city life, suffused by a belief that “the city is hardly needed, life should spring out of the country” (Jones and Baker 5). Aquarian property likewise instilled environmental ethics into the notion of land ownership. Michael Metzger, writing in 1975 in the barely minted Ecology Law Quarterly, observed that humankind had forgotten three basic ecological laws, that “everything is connected to everything else”, that “everything must go somewhere”, and that “nature knows best” (797). With an ever-increasing focus on abstraction, the language of private property: enabled us to create separate realities, and to remove ourselves from the natural world in which we live to a cerebral world of our own creation. When we act in accord with our artificial world, the disastrous impact of our fantasies upon the natural world in which we live is ignored. (796)By contrast, Aquarian property was intrinsically contextual. It revolved around the owner as environmental steward, whose duty it was “to repair the ravages of previous land use battles, and to live in accord with the natural environment” (Aquarian Archives). Reflecting ancient common rights, Aquarian property rights internalised norms of prudence, proportionality and moderation of resource use (Rose, Futures). Simply, an ecological view of land ownership was necessary for survival. As Dr. Moss Cass, the Federal environment minister wrote in the preface to The Way Out: Radical Alternatives in Australia, ‘”there is a common conviction that something is rotten at the core of conventional human existence.” Across the Tasman, the sense of latent environmental crisis was equally palpable, “we are surrounded by glistening surfaces and rotten centres” (Jones and Baker 5). Property and Countercultural Place and Time In the emerging discipline of legal geography, the law and its institutions (such as property) are explained through the prism of spatiotemporal context. What even more recent law and geography scholarship argues is that space is privileged as “theoretically interesting” while “temporality is reduced to empirical history” (Braverman et al. 53). This part seeks to consider the intersection of property, the counterculture, and time and place without privileging either the spatial or temporal dimensions. It considers simply the place of Nimbin, New South Wales, in early May 1973, and how property conformed to the exigencies of both. Legal geographers also see property through the theory of performance. Through this view, property is a “relational effect, not a prior ground, that is brought into being by the very act of performance” (Blomley, Performing 13). In other words, doing does not merely describe or represent property, but it enacts, such that property becomes a reality through its performance. In short, property is because it does. Performance theory is liberating (Page et al) because it concentrates not on property’s arcane rules and doctrines, nor on the legal geographer’s alleged privileging of place over time, but on its simple doing. Thus, Nicholas Blomley sees private property as a series of constant and reiterative performances: paying rates, building fences, registering titles, and so on. Adopting this approach, Aquarian property is described as a series of performances, seen through the prism of the legal practitioner, and its countercultural participants. The intersection of counterculture and property law implicated my family in its performative narrative. My father had been a solicitor in Nimbin since 1948; his modest legal practice was conducted from the side annexe of the School of Arts. Equipped with a battered leather briefcase and a trusty portable typewriter, like clockwork, he drove the 20 miles from Lismore to Nimbin every Saturday morning. I often accompanied him on his weekly visits. Forty-one years ago, in early May 1973, we drove into town to an extraordinary sight. Seen through ten-year old eyes, surreal scenes of energy, colour, and longhaired, bare-footed young people remain vivid. At almost the exact halfway point in my father’s legal career, new ways of thinking about property rushed headlong and irrevocably into his working life. After May 1973, dinnertime conversations became very different. Gone was the mundane monopoly of mortgages, subdivisions, and cottage conveyancing. The topics now ranged to hippies, communes, co-operatives and shared ownerships. Property was no longer a dull transactional monochrome, a lifeless file bound in pink legal tape. It became an idea replete with diversity and innovation, a concept populated with interesting characters and entertaining, often quirky stories. If property is a narrative (Rose, Persuasion), then the micro-story of property on the NSW Northern Rivers became infinitely more compelling and interesting in the years after Aquarius. For the practitioner, Aquarian property involved new practices and skills: the registration of co-operatives, the drafting of shareholder deeds that regulated the use of common lands, the settling of idealistic trusts, and the ever-increasing frequency of visits to the Nimbin School of Arts every working Saturday. For the 1970s settler in Nimbin, performing Aquarian property took more direct and lived forms. It may have started by reading the open letter that festival co-organiser Graeme Dunstan wrote to the Federal Minister for Urban Affairs, Tom Uren, inviting him to Nimbin as a “holiday rather than a political duty”, and seeking his support for “a community group of 100-200 people to hold a lease dedicated to building a self-sufficient community [...] whose central design principles are creative living and ecological survival” (1). It lay in the performances at the Festival’s Learning Exchange, where ideas of philosophy, organic farming, alternative technology, and law reform were debated in free and unstructured form, the key topics of the latter being abortion and land. And as the Festival came to its conclusion, it was the gathering at the showground, titled “After Nimbin What?—How will the social and environmental experiment at Nimbin effect the setting up of alternative communities, not only in the North Coast, but generally in Australia” (Richmond River Historical Society). In the days and months after Aquarius, it was the founding of new communities such as Co-ordination Co-operative at Tuntable Creek, described by co-founder Terry McGee in 1973 as “a radical experiment in a new way of life. The people who join us […] have to be prepared to jump off the cliff with the certainty that when they get to the bottom, they will be all right” (Munro-Clark 126; Cock 121). The image of jumping off a cliff is a metaphorical performance that supposes a leap into the unknown. While orthodox concepts of property in land were left behind, discarded at the top, the Aquarian leap was not so much into the unknown, but the long forgotten. The success of those communities that survived lay in the innovative and adaptive ways in which common forms of property fitted into registered land title, a system otherwise premised on individual ownership. Achieved through the use of outside private shells—title-holding co-operatives or companies (Page)—inside the shell, the norms and practices of common property were inclusively facilitated and performed (McLaren; Rose, Futures). In 2014, the performance of Aquarian property endures, in the dozens of intentional communities in the Nimbin environs that remain a witness to the zeal and spirit of the times and its countercultural ideals. Conclusion The Aquarian idea of property had profound meaning for self, community, and the environment. It was simultaneously new and old, radical as well as ancient. It re-invented a pre-liberal, pre-enclosure idea of property. For property theory, its legacy is its imaginings of diversity, the idea that property can take pluralistic forms and assert multiple values, a defiant challenge to the dominant paradigm. Aquarian property offers rich pickings compared to the pauperised private monotone. Over 41 years ago, in the legal geography that was Nimbin, New South Wales, the imaginings of property escaped the conformity of enclosure. The Aquarian age represented a moment in “thickened time” (Braverman et al 53), when dissenting theory became practice, and the idea of property indelibly changed for a handful of serendipitous actors, the unscripted performers of a countercultural narrative faithful to its time and place. References Alexander, Gregory. Commodity & Propriety: Competing Visions of Property in American Legal Thought 1776-1970. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1999. Aquarian Archives. "Report into Facilitation of a Rural Intentional Community." Lismore, NSW: Southern Cross University. Blomley, Nicholas. Law, Space, and the Geographies of Power. New York: Guildford Press, 1994. Blomley, Nicholas. Unsettling the City: Urban Land and the Politics of Property. New York: Routledge, 2004. 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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.

Introduction The first “Aquarius Festival” came together in Canberra, at the Australian National University, in the autumn of 1971 and was reprised in 1973 in the small rural town of Nimbin, in northern New South Wales. Both events reflected the Zeitgeist in what was, in some ways, an inchoate expression of the so-called “counterculture” (Roszak). Rather than attempting to analyse the counterculture as a discrete movement with a definable history, I enlist the theory of cultural memes to read the counter culture as a Dawkinsian cluster meme, with this paper offered as “testimonio”, a form of quasi-political memoir that views shifts in the culture through the lens of personal experience (Zimmerman, Yúdice). I track an evolving personal, “internal” topography and map its points of intersection with the radical social, political and cultural changes spawned by the “consciousness revolution” that was an integral part of the counterculture emerging in the 1970s. I focus particularly on the notion of “consciousness raising”, as a Dawkinsian memetic replicator, in the context of the idealistic notions of the much-heralded “New Age” of Aquarius, and propose that this meme has been a persistent feature of the evolution of the “meme cluster” known as the counterculture. Mimesis and the Counterculture Since evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins floated the notion of cultural memes as a template to account for the evolution of ideas within political cultures, a literature of commentary and criticism has emerged that debates the strengths and weaknesses of his proposed model and its application across a number of fields. I borrow the notion to trace the influence of a set of memes that clustered around the emergence of what writer Marilyn Ferguson called The Aquarian Conspiracy, in her 1980 book of that name. Ferguson’s text, subtitled Personal and Social Transformation in Our Time, was a controversial attempt to account for what was known as the “New Age” movement, with its late millennial focus on social and personal transformation. That focus leads me to approach the counterculture (a term first floated by Theodore Roszak) less as a definable historical movement and more as a cluster of aspirational tropes expressing a range of aspects or concerns, from the overt political activism through to experimental technologies for the transformation of consciousness, and all characterised by a critical interrogation of, and resistance to, conventional social norms (Ferguson’s “personal and social transformation”). With its more overtly “spiritual” focus, I read the “New Age” meme, then, as a sub-set of this “cluster meme”, the counterculture. In my reading, “New Age” and “counterculture” overlap, sharing persistent concerns and a broad enough tent to accommodate the serious—the combative political action of Students for a Democratic Society (SDS), say, (see Elbaum)—to the light-hearted—the sport of frisbee for example (Stancil). The interrogation of conventional social and political norms inherited from previous generations was a prominent strategy across both movements. Rather than offering a sociological analysis or history of the ragbag counterculture, per se, my discussion here focuses in on the particular meme of “consciousness raising” within that broader set of cultural shifts, some of which were sustained in their own right, some dropping away, and many absorbed into the dominant mainstream culture. Dawkins use of the term “meme” was rooted in the Greek mimesis, to emphasise the replication of an idea by imitation, or copying. He likened the way ideas survive and change in human culture to the natural selection of genes in biological evolution. While the transmission of memes does not depend on a physical medium, such as the DNA of biology, they replicate with a greater or lesser degree of success by harnessing human social media in a kind of “infectivity”, it is argued, through “contagious” repetition among human populations. Dawkins proposed that just as biological organisms could be said to act as “hosts” for replicating genes, in the same way people and groups of people act as hosts for replicating memes. Even before Dawkins floated his term, French biologist Jacques Monod wrote that ideas have retained some of the properties of organisms. Like them, they tend to perpetuate their structure and to breed; they too can fuse, recombine, segregate their content; indeed they too can evolve, and in this evolution selection must surely play an important role. (165, emphasis mine) Ideas have power, in Monod’s analysis: “They interact with each other and with other mental forces in the same brain, in neighbouring brains, and thanks to global communication, in far distant, foreign brains” (Monod, cited in Gleick). Emblematic of the counterculture were various “New Age” phenomena such as psychedelic drugs, art and music, with the latter contributing the “Aquarius” meme, whose theme song came from the stage musical (and later, film) Hair, and particularly the lyric that runs: “This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius”. The Australian Aquarius Festivals of 1971 and 1973 explicitly invoked this meme in the way identified by Monod and the “Aquarius” meme resonated even in Australia. Problematising “Aquarius” As for the astrological accuracy of the “Age of Aquarius meme”, professional astrologers argue about its dating, and the qualities that supposedly characterise it. When I consulted with two prominent workers in this field for the preparation of this article, I was astonished to find their respective dating of the putative Age of Aquarius were centuries apart! What memes were being “hosted” here? According to the lyrics: When the moon is in the seventh house And Jupiter aligns with Mars Then peace will guide the planets And love will steer the stars. (Hair) My astrologer informants assert that the moon is actually in the seventh house twice every year, and that Jupiter aligns with Mars every two years. Yet we are still waiting for the outbreak of peace promised according to these astrological conditions. I am also informed that there’s no “real” astrological underpinning for the aspirations of the song’s lyrics, for an astrological “Age” is not determined by any planet but by constellations rising, they tell me. Most important, contrary to the aspirations embodied in the lyrics, peace was not guiding the planets and love was not about to “steer the stars”. For Mars is not the planet of love, apparently, but of war and conflict and, empowered with the expansiveness of Jupiter, it was the forceful aggression of a militaristic mind-set that actually prevailed as the “New Age” supposedly dawned. For the hippified summer of love had taken a nosedive with the tragic events at the Altamont speedway, near San Francisco in 1969, when biker gangs, enlisted to provide security for a concert performance by The Rolling Stones allegedly provoked violence, marring the event and contributing to a dawning disillusionment (for a useful coverage of the event and its historical context see Dalton). There was a lot of far-fetched poetic licence involved in this dreaming, then, but memes, according to Nikos Salingaros, are “greatly simplified versions of patterns”. “The simpler they are, the faster they can proliferate”, he writes, and the most successful memes “come with a great psychological appeal” (243, 260; emphasis mine). What could be retrieved from this inchoate idealism? Harmony and understanding Sympathy and trust abounding No more falsehoods or derisions Golden living dreams of visions Mystic crystal revelation And the mind’s true liberation Aquarius, Aquarius. (Hair) In what follows I want to focus on this notion: “mind’s true liberation” by tracing the evolution of this project of “liberating” the mind, reflected in my personal journey. Nimbin and Aquarius I had attended the first Aquarius Festival, which came together in Canberra, at the Australian National University, in the autumn of 1971. I travelled there from Perth, overland, in a Ford Transit van, among a raggedy band of tie-dyed hippie actors, styled as The Campus Guerilla Theatre Troupe, re-joining our long-lost sisters and brothers as visionary pioneers of the New Age of Aquarius. Our visions were fueled with a suitcase full of potent Sumatran “buddha sticks” and, contrary to Biblical prophesies, we tended to see—not “through a glass darkly” but—in psychedelic, pop-, and op-art explosions of colour. We could see energy, man! Two years later, I found myself at the next Aquarius event in Nimbin, too, but by that time I inhabited a totally different mind-zone, albeit one characterised by the familiar, intense idealism. In the interim, I had been arrested in 1971 while “tripping out” in Sydney on potent “acid”, or LSD (Lysergic acid diethylamide); had tried out political engagement at the Pram Factory Theatre in Melbourne; had camped out in protest at the flooding of Lake Pedder in the Tasmanian wilderness; met a young guru, started meditating, and joined “the ashram”—part of the movement known as the Divine Light Mission, which originated in India and was carried to the “West” (including Australia) by an enthusiastic and evangelical following of drug-toking drop-outs who had been swarming through India intent on escaping the dominant culture of the military-industrial complex and the horrors of the Vietnam War. Thus, by the time of the 1973 event in Nimbin, while other festival participants were foraging for “gold top” magic mushrooms in farmers’ fields, we devotees had put aside such chemical interventions in conscious awareness to dig latrines (our “service” project for the event) and we invited everyone to join us for “satsang” in the yellow, canvas-covered, geodesic dome, to attend to the message of peace. The liberation meme had shifted through a mutation that involved lifestyle-changing choices that were less about alternative approaches to sustainable agriculture and more about engaging directly with “mind’s true liberation”. Raising Consciousness What comes into focus here is the meme of “consciousness raising”, which became the persistent project within which I lived and worked and had my being for many years. Triggered initially by the ingestion of those psychedelic substances that led to my shocking encounter with the police, the project was carried forward into the more disciplined environs of my guru’s ashrams. However, before my encounter with sustained spiritual practice I had tried to work the shift within the parameters of an ostensibly political framework. “Consciousness raising” was a form of political activism borrowed from the political sphere. Originally generated by Mao Zedong in China during the revolutionary struggle to overthrow the vested colonial interests that were choking Chinese nationalism in the 1940s, to our “distant, foreign brains” (Monod), as Western revolutionary romantics, Chairman Mao and his Little Red Book were taken up, in a kind of international counterculture solidarity with revolutionaries everywhere. It must be admitted, this solidarity was a fairly superficial gesture. Back in China it might be construed as part of a crude totalitarian campaign to inculcate Marxist-Leninist political ideas among the peasant classes (see Compestine for a fictionalised account of traumatic times; Han Suyin’s long-form autobiography—an early example of testimonio as personal and political history—offers an unapologetic account of a struggle not usually construed as sympathetically by Western commentators). But the meme (and the processes) of consciousness raising were picked up by feminists in the United States in the late 1960s and into the 1970s (Brownmiller 21) and it was in this form I encountered it as an actor with the politically engaged theatre troupe, The Australian Performing Group, at Carlton’s Pram Factory Theatre in late 1971. The Performance Group I performed as a core member of the Group in 1971-72. Decisions as to which direction the Group should take were to be made as a collective, and the group veered towards anarchy. Most of the women were getting together outside of the confines of the Pram Factory to raise their consciousness within the Carlton Women’s Liberation Cell Group. While happy that the sexual revolution was reducing women’s sexual inhibitions, some of the men at the Factory were grumbling into their beer, disturbed that intimate details of their private lives—and their sexual performance—might be disclosed and raked over by a bunch of radical feminists. As they began to demand equal rights to orgasm in the bedroom, the women started to seek equal access within the performance group, too. They requested rehearsal time to stage the first production by the Women’s Theatre Group, newly formed under the umbrella of the wider collective. As all of the acknowledged writers in the Group so far were men—some of whom had not kept pace in consciousness raising—scripts tended to be viewed as part of a patriarchal plot, so Betty Can Jump was an improvised piece, with the performance material developed entirely by the cast in workshop-style rehearsals, under the direction of Kerry Dwyer (see Blundell, Zuber-Skerritt 21, plus various contributors at www.pramfactory.com/memoirsfolder/). I was the only male in the collective included in the cast. Several women would have been more comfortable if no mere male were involved at all. My gendered attitudes would scarcely have withstood a critical interrogation but, as my partner was active in launching the Women’s Electoral Lobby, I was given the benefit of the doubt. Director Kerry Dwyer liked my physicalised approach to performance (we were both inspired by the “poor theatre” of Jerzy Grotowski and the earlier surrealistic theories of Antonin Artaud), and I was cast to play all the male parts, whatever they would be. Memorable material came up in improvisation, much of which made it into the performances, but my personal favorite didn’t make the cut. It was a sprawling movement piece where I was “born” out of a symbolic mass of writhing female bodies. It was an arduous process and, after much heaving and huffing, I emerged from the birth canal stammering “SSSS … SSSS … SSMMMO-THER”! The radical reversioning of culturally authorised roles for women has inevitably, if more slowly, led to a re-thinking of the culturally approved and reinforced models of masculinity, too, once widely accepted as entirely biologically ordained rather than culturally constructed. But the possibility of a queer re-versioning of gender would be recognised only slowly. Liberation Meanwhile, Dennis Altman was emerging as an early spokesman for gay, or homosexual, liberation and he was invited to address the collective. Altman’s stirring book, Homosexual: Oppression and Liberation, had recently been published, but none of us had read it. Radical or not, the Group had shown little evidence of sensitivity to gender-queer issues. My own sexuality was very much “oppressed” rather than liberated and I would have been loath to use “queer” to describe myself. The term “homosexual” was fraught with pejorative, quasi-medical associations and, in a collective so divided across strict and sometimes hostile gender boundaries, deviant affiliations got short shrift. Dennis was unsure of his reception before this bunch of apparent “heteros”. Sitting at the rear of the meeting, I admired his courage. It took more self-acceptance than I could muster to confront the Group on this issue at the time. Somewhere in the back of my mind, “homosexuality” was still something I was supposed to “get over”, so I failed to respond to Altman’s implicit invitation to come out and join the party. The others saw me in relationship with a woman and whatever doubts they might have carried about the nature of my sexuality were tactfully suspended. Looking back, I am struck by the number of simultaneous poses I was trying to maintain: as an actor; as a practitioner of an Artaudian “theatre of cruelty”; as a politically committed activist; and as a “hetero”-sexual. My identity was an assemblage of entities posing as “I”; it was as if I were performing a self. Little gay boys are encouraged from an early age to hide their real impulses, not only from others—in the very closest circle, the family; at school; among one’s peers—but from themselves, too. The coercive effects of shaming usually fix the denial into place in our psyches before we have any intellectual (or political) resources to consider other options. Growing up trying to please, I hid my feelings. In my experience, it could be downright dangerous to resist the subtle and gross coercions that applied around gender normativity. The psychoanalyst D. W. Winnicott, of the British object-relations school, argues that when the environment does not support the developing personality and requires the person to sacrifice his or her own spontaneous needs to adapt to environmental demands, there is not even a resting-place for individual experience and the result is a failure in the primary narcissistic state to evolve an individual. The “individual” then develops as an extension of the shell rather than that of the core [...] What there is left of a core is hidden away and is difficult to find even in the most far-reaching analysis. The individual then exists by not being found. The true self is hidden, and what we have to deal with clinically is the complex false self whose function is to keep this true self hidden. (212) How to connect to that hidden core, then? “Mind’s true liberation...” Alienated from the performative version of selfhood, but still inspired by the promise of liberation, even in the “fuzzy” form for which my inchoate hunger yearned (sexual liberation? political liberation? mystical liberation?), I was left to seek out a more authentic basis for selfhood, one that didn’t send me spinning along the roller-coaster of psychedelic drugs, or lie to me with the nostrums of a toxic, most forms of which would deny me, as a sexual, moral and legal pariah, the comforts of those “anchorage points to the social matrix” identified by Soddy (cited in Mol 58). My spiritual inquiry was “counter” to these institutionalised models of religious culture. So, I began to read my way through a myriad of books on comparative religion. And to my surprise, rather than taking up with the religions of antique cultures, instead I encountered a very young guru, initially as presented in a simply drawn poster in the window of Melbourne’s only vegetarian restaurant (Shakahari, in Carlton). “Are you hungry and tired of reading recipe books?” asked the figure in the poster. I had little sense of where that hunger would lead me, but it seemed to promise a fulfilment in ways that the fractious politics of the APG offered little nourishment. So, while many of my peers in the cities chose to pursue direct political action, and others experimented with cooperative living in rural communes, I chose the communal lifestyle of the ashram. In these different forms, then, the conscious raising meme persisted when other challenges raised by the counterculture either faded or were absorbed in the mainstream. I finally came to realise that the intense disillusionment process I had been through (“dis-illusionment” as the stripping away of illusions) was the beginning of awakening, in effect a “spiritual initiation” into a new way of seeing myself and my “place” in the world. Buddhist teachers might encourage this very kind of stripping away of false notions as part of their teaching, so the aspiration towards the “true liberation” of the mind expressed in the Aquarian visioning might be—and in my case, actually has been and continues to be—fulfilled to a very real extent. Gurus and the entire turn towards Eastern mysticism were part of the New Age meme cluster prevailing during the early 1970s, but I was fortunate to connect with an enduring set of empirical practices that haven’t faded with the fashions of the counterculture. A good guitarist would never want to play in public without first tuning her instrument. In a similar way, it is now possible for me to tune my mind back to a deeper, more original source of being than the socially constructed sense of self, which had been so fraught with conflicts for me. I have discovered that before gender, and before sexuality, in fact, pulsing away behind the thicket of everyday associations, there is an original, unconditioned state of beingness, the awareness of which can be reclaimed through focused meditation practices, tested in a wide variety of “real world” settings. For quite a significant period of time I worked as an instructor in the method on behalf of my guru, or mentor, travelling through a dozen or so countries, and it was through this exposure that I was able to observe that the practices worked independently of culture and that “mind’s true liberation” was in many ways a de-programming of cultural indoctrinations (see Marsh, 2014, 2013, 2011 and 2007 for testimony of this process). In Japan, Zen roshi might challenge their students with the koan: “Show me your original face, before you were born!” While that might seem to be an absurd proposal, I am finding that there is a potential, if unexpected, liberation in following through such an inquiry. As “hokey” as the Aquarian meme-set might have been, it was a reflection of the idealistic hope that characterised the cluster of memes that aggregated within the counterculture, a yearning for healthier life choices than those offered by the toxicity of the military-industrial complex, the grossly exploitative effects of rampant Capitalism and a politics of cynicism and domination. The meme of the “true liberation” of the mind, then, promised by the heady lyrics of a 1970s hippie musical, has continued to bear fruit in ways that I could not have imagined. References Altman, Dennis. Homosexual Oppression and Liberation. Sydney: Angus & Robertson, 1972. Blundell, Graeme. The Naked Truth: A Life in Parts. Sydney: Hachette, 2011. Brownmiller, Susan. In Our Time: Memoir of a Revolution. New York: The Dial Press, 1999. Compestine, Ying Chang. Revolution Is Not a Dinner Party. New York: Square Fish, 2009. Dalton, David. “Altamont: End of the Sixties, Or Big Mix-Up in the Middle of Nowhere?” Gadfly Nov/Dec 1999. April 2014 ‹http://www.gadflyonline.com/archive/NovDec99/archive-altamont.html›. Dawkins, Richard. The Selfish Gene. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1976. Elbaum, Max. Revolution in the Air: Sixties Radicals Turn to Lenin, Mao and Che. London and New York: Verso, 2002. Ferguson, Marilyn. The Aquarian Conspiracy. Los Angeles: Tarcher Putnam, 1980. Gleick, James. “What Defines a Meme?” Smithsonian Magazine 2011. April 2014 ‹http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/What-Defines-a Meme.html›. Hair, The American Tribal Love Rock Musical. Prod. Michael Butler. Book by Gerome Ragni and James Rado; Lyrics by Gerome Ragni and James Rado; Music by Galt MacDermot; Musical Director: Galt MacDermot. 1968. Han, Suyin. The Crippled Tree. 1965. Reprinted. Chicago: Academy Chicago P, 1985. ---. A Mortal Flower. 1966. Reprinted. Chicago: Academy Chicago P, 1985. ---. Birdless Summer. 1968. Reprinted. Chicago: Academy Chicago P, 1985. ---. The Morning Deluge: Mao TseTung and the Chinese Revolution 1893-1954. Boston: Little Brown, 1972. ---. My House Has Two Doors. New York: Putnam, 1980. Marsh, Victor. The Boy in the Yellow Dress. Melbourne: Clouds of Magellan Press, 2014. ---. “A Touch of Silk: A (Post)modern Faerie Tale.” Griffith Review 42: Once Upon a Time in Oz (Oct. 2013): 159-69. ---. “Bent Kid, Straight World: Life Writing and the Reconfiguration of ‘Queer’.” TEXT: Journal of Writing and Writing Courses 15.1 (April 2011). ‹http://www.textjournal.com.au/april11/marsh.htm›. ---. “The Boy in the Yellow Dress: Re-framing Subjectivity in Narrativisations of the Queer Self.“ Life Writing 4.2 (Oct. 2007): 263-286. Mol, Hans. Identity and the Sacred: A Sketch for a New Social-Scientific Theory of Religion. Oxford: Blackwell, 1976. Monod, Jacques. Chance and Necessity: An Essay on the Natural Philosophy of Modern Biology. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1970. Roszak, Theodore. The Making of a Counter Culture: Reflections on the Technocratic Society and Its Youthful Opposition. New York: Doubleday, 1968. Salingaros, Nikos. Theory of Architecture. Solingen: Umbau-Verlag, 2006. Stancil, E.D., and M.D. Johnson. Frisbee: A Practitioner’s Manual and Definitive Treatise. New York: Workman, 1975 Winnicott, D.W. Through Paediatrics to Psycho-Analysis: Collected Papers. 1958. London: Hogarth Press, 1975. Yúdice, George. “Testimonio and Postmodernism.” Latin American Perspectives 18.3 (1991): 15-31. Zimmerman, Marc. “Testimonio.” The Sage Encyclopedia of Social Science Research Methods. Eds. Michael S. Lewis-Beck, Alan Bryman and Tim Futing Liao. London: Sage Publications, 2003. Zuber-Skerritt, Ortrun, ed. Australian Playwrights: David Williamson. Amsterdam: Rodolpi, 1988.

Introduction Artificial Intelligence (AI) has existed in popular culture far longer than any particular technological tools that carry that name today (Leaver), and in part, for that reason, fantasies of AI being or becoming sentient subjects in their own right form current imaginaries of what AI is today, or is about to become. Yet ‘the artificial’ does not just mark something as not human, or not natural, but rather provokes an exploration of the blurred lines between supposedly different domains, such as the tensions provoked where the lines between people and technology blur (Haraway). The big technology corporations who are selling the idea that their AI tools will be able to revolutionise workforces and solve immense numbers of human challenges are capitalising on these fantasies, suggesting that they are only a few iterations away from creating self-directing machine intelligences that will dwarf the limitations of human minds (Leaver and Srdarov). At this moment, though, Artificial General Intelligence (AGI)—AI that equals or surpasses humans across a wide range of cognitive endeavours—does not and may never exist. However, given the immense commercial and societal interest in the current generation of Generative AI (GenAI) tools, examining their actual capabilities and limitations is vital. The current GenAI tools operate using Large Language Models (LLMs) where sophisticated algorithms are trained on vast datasets, which increase in complexity based on the amount of data absorbed. These models are then harnessed to create novel outputs to prompts based on statistical likelihoods derived from training data. However, the exact way these LLMs are operating is not disclosed to users, and GenAI tools perpetuate the ‘black box’ problem insomuch as the way they are working is only made visible by examining the inputs and outputs rather than being able to see the processes themselves (Ajunwa). There have been many articles and explainers written about the mechanics of LLMs and AI image generators (Coldewey; Guinness; Jungco; Long and Magerko); however, the specific datasets used to build AI engines, and the weighing or importance assigned within the corpus of training data to each image is still guesswork. Manipulating the inputs and observing the outputs of these engines is still the most accurate lens by which to gain insight into the specifics of each system. This article is part of a larger study, where in early 2024 we prompted a range of outputs from six popular GenAI tools—Midjourney, Adobe Firefly, DreamStudio (a commercial front-end for the Stable Diffusion model), OpenAI’s DALL-E 3, Google Gemini, and Meta’s AI (hereafter Meta)—although we should note there are no outputs from Gemini in our dataset since Gemini was refusing to generate any images with human figures at all due to a settings change after bad publicity relating to persistent inaccuracies in their generated content (Robertson). Our prompts explored the way these tools visualise children, childhoods, families, Australianness, and Aboriginal Australianness, using 55 different prompts on each of these tools, generating just over 800 images. Apart from entering the prompts, we did not change any settings of the GenAI tools, attempting to collect as raw a response as possible. Where the tools defaulted to producing one image (such as Dall-E 3), we collected one image, whilst where other tools defaulted to producing four different images, we collected all four. For the most part, the data collected from our prompt sampling was consistent with other studies and showed a clear tendency to produce images that reproduced classed, raced, and sexed ideals: chiefly, white, middle-class, heteronormative bodies and families (Bianchi et al.; Gillespie; Weidinger et al.). However, at times our prompts surfaced inaccuracies and nonsensical images from the GenAI tools, and a sample of those images is the focus of this article. These outputs might popularly be called ‘hallucinations’, but we are making the case that a more productive and less agentic term is more useful to describe these outputs: glitches. This article will explore the “potential of potential inherent in error” (Nunes) and the subversive possibilities of GenAI glitches to rupture ‘reality’. We will ultimately argue that GenAI is doubly generative, both in the sense of creating novel outputs based on its immense training data, but also, vitally, in the sense that it generates reactions and interpretations from users and others who view and consume these outputs. When these outputs are glitches, they can provoke viewers to think differently about concepts they might otherwise have considered absolute. Refusals and Glitches (not Hallucinations) Despite being sophisticated mathematical models that can produce novel content drawn from increasingly large training datasets, it is incorrect to ascribe agency or personhood to current AI tools. Yet the language used to talk about AI often situates them as either thinking subjects or as more-than-human magical thinking machines (Bender et al.; Leaver and Srdarov). Positioning LLMs as subjects rather than machines is one of the reasons that the frequent errors in their outputs are often described, and excused, as ‘hallucinations’ rather than simply mistakes (Maleki et al.). Some theorists, such as David Gunkel, argue that ‘robot’ subjectivity and agency is an important factor in order to understand and integrate their outputs more seamlessly into our social systems. Meredith Broussard, however, argues that technology companies and evangelists have long promoted a form of ‘technochauvinism’, “an a priori assumption that computers are better than humans” (2), and in this way of thinking, any errors, biases, or failings are attributed to human failings, not technological ones. Broussard suggests that such failings are often dismissed as ‘just a glitch’, rather than being positioned as much more important systemic issues with the operation of AI and technology companies in general. While mindful of Broussard’s concerns, in this paper we nevertheless seek to reclaim the term glitch, but more in line with Legacy Russell’s notion of “glitch feminism” (16), in which the “glitch is celebrated as a vehicle of refusal, a strategy of nonperformance”, especially in relation to normative notions of gender and bodies. Glitch feminism deploys glitches to reveal the way power operates, and in that moment potentially challenges that very operation. Following Russell, the glitch images of bodies produced by GenAI can be moments of rupture which ask viewers to think about bodies and subjects in different ways. Similarly, when GenAI tools refuse a prompt, generating no output at all, they are perhaps inadvertently revealing something about the way they are designed, and potentially about any guardrails or deliberate limitations that have been imposed on their operation. Following Rettberg’s argument that moments of algorithmic failure can be methodologically useful in situating qualitative analyses, we will now turn to a range of examples where GenAI tools either refused to create anything at all in response to our prompts, or generated glitch images that were both unexpected and provocative. Refusals We ran prompts using the generative AI tools with the aim of obtaining a set of data about the ways that generative AI ‘envisions’ Australian children. We began by using simple prompting, using the prompt ‘a child’ as our starting point; however, glitches quickly surfaced as several of the engines refused to generate an image. DALL-E and Dream Studio both refused to generate images of children for the prompts ‘a child’, an ‘innocent child’, and an ‘Australian child’; Firefly also refused to generate an image for an ‘innocent child’. We then continued running prompts on these tools using other terms before returning to re-trialling the original ‘child’ prompts which yielded results in DALL-E, but not Dream Studio. The fears around the capacity of generative AI to generate child abuse images and material are both well-documented and well-founded (ICMEC; McQue; Moran); however, it is unclear whether we can infer from these refusals that the engines were attempting to prevent the production of child exploitation material. If that were the case, how can we read DALL-E’s initial refusal to produce images of children, which was simply overcome by adding in some extra prompts? Is the engine in some way ‘assessing’ the safety of the user, and if so, what are these guardrails? While these engines are incapable of sentient thought, this throws up complex questions about child safety. As Veronica Barassi argues about the failures of generative AI, understanding AI Failure as complex social reality hence presupposes that we shed light on the fact that AI failures lead to a multiplicity of conflicting beliefs, emotions, fears, anxieties, practices, discourses, policies and solutions in our society. (Barassi, 5) Undoubtedly, the refusals of these tools are attributable to anxieties about the types of materials they can produce. In addition to these refusals, DALL-E, Firefly, and Meta also refused to generate an image of a child with a gun or grenade, Meta had issues with generating an Australian prime minister or leader, Firefly would not produce an Australian criminal, and Dream Studio refused to produce images of sick or unhealthy Australians and children. It is an eclectic collection of refusals, and as Barassi argues, shows a “multiplicity’ of conflicting … fears, anxieties”, and “discourses”. Generative AI and its images, therefore, have the potential, through what it leaves out and refuses to generate, to be understood as a barometer for cultural tension points. Of course, such measures as these, when taken by tech giants to ‘safeguard’ children, could be read as tokenistic, given that perpetrators of these crimes are often using generative AI in far more complex ways to create abuse material (McQue). In this way, we can also arguably read generative AI refusals as tools by which tech companies can signal to their users that generative AI is ‘safe’ for children and other users. Glitches Generations of ‘fatherhood’ yielded exclusively white men across all GenAI tools; they tended to be older in appearance (grey hair, wrinkled), and when depicted with children they were male children or babies dressed in blue clothing. These images, and in particular those from Dream Studio, Meta, and Midjourney, relied heavily on archetypes of rugged Australian masculinity, with fathers appearing to be weathered, outdoors, sometimes in collared workman-style shirts, sleeves rolled up and ready for work, and Akubra-style hats—predictable iterations of ‘true blue’ Aussie masculinity. Some of the glitches that appeared in these images can be attributed to consistent errors in execution across any prompt: for example, mangled hands and incorrect proportions. However, Dream Studio amplifies this, generating an image of a father with a toddler on his lap, the father’s hands foregrounded but disproportionately large. This has the potential to render comical the depiction of capable, ‘hands-on’, blue-collar masculinity, highlighting the absurdity of the gendered narratives that are no doubt baked into the system. Fig. 1: An image generated by Dream Studio from the prompt ‘An Australian Father’. Another image generated by Dream Studio depicts a grandfatherly man on a beach, inspecting the handlebars on what appears to be a steam-powered and multi-wheeled bike (see fig. 1). Wearing a straw hat, the man appears in some way fused or integrated with the bike, as his body passes through the middle of the spokes of the back wheel and emerges on the other side. The spokes appear warped and irregular, connecting to what could be a textured brown lump in the centre of the wheel. He is on a beach—could it be a coconut at the centre of the bike wheel? The image, taken in its entirety, portrays this grandfatherly man doing something with his hands, to fix or master the bike. However, when the elements are held up and examined individually, the image, and by extension the narrative it presents about masculinity and fatherhood is nonsensical—not mastery, but instead perhaps madness. Fig. 2: An image generated by Meta AI from the prompt ‘An Australian Father’. Similarly, two images generated by the Meta GenAI highlight the absurdity of narratives of Australian ‘fatherhood’. In one, a rugged Australian father gently cradles a koala on his lap, and in the other, an Australian father is depicted in a farm setting with a farming tool in one hand and a bright green reptile in the other (see fig. 2). These are fathers to wildlife, and in the instance of the lizard, wildlife that isn’t endemic to Australia; the animals are used to symbolise the taming of the wild Australian landscape (Prout and Howitt). It is easy to interpret these images as a narrative about fatherhood and colonial masculinity, cultivating a wild and savage land, civilising it through commercial farming practices and the toil of their hands (Moreton-Robinson). However, the lurid green lizard that doesn’t belong in this setting has the potential to disrupt this narrative, as the shortcomings of AI in rendering this story prompt the viewer to ask questions about what this farmer is doing. It is a rupture to the order which may prove useful in terms of rejecting traditional, colonialising narratives about old white men and the Australian landscape, as the nonsensical elements shatter the illusion of mastery over the land. As Nunes describes, this type of “misdirection” can “provide creative openings and lines of flight that allow for a reconceptualization of what can (or cannot) be realized within existing social and cultural practices” (Nunes), and in this context, the out-of-place lizard is a potentially productive, or generative, glitch. Fig. 3: An image generated by Dream Studio from the prompt ‘An Indigenous Australian Family’. Families and familial relationships were a rich source of glitched imagery in our generations. We started by prompting the engines to produce images of ‘typical’ Australian families, and Australian families. It quickly became clear that in doing so, only white families were returned. We then prompted for an Indigenous Australian family and a typical Indigenous Australian family. The generated images tended to reduce Australian First Nations people to harmful stereotypes, replicating damaging cultural narratives about Indigeneity, such as primitiveness and savagery (Moreton-Robinson). Where Firefly defaulted to imagery more typically associated with Native Americans, adding feathers and feathered headbands to the images, DALL-E and Dream Studio, in particular, depicted dark-skinned people, in red dirt settings, seated around fires, with tribal paint, often shirtless or wearing animal skins (see fig. 3). As has been argued elsewhere, AI’s generation of racial stereotypes and harmful imagery demonstrates that Aboriginal Australians and people of colour more generally are under-represented in the training data used in these systems (Worrell and Johns). However, these images also incorporate obvious glitches in the expression of faces and bodies, extra limbs, jumbled faces, and disembodied heads that destabilise the authority of the imagery. While certainly jarring upon first viewing, the errors in the images, the “errant communication” and “misdirection” (Nunes) they provide, can be a welcome interruption to the cultural status quo. Arguably, the glitches in the images have the potential to highlight the failings of representations of non-white individuals by generative AI, as the rudimentary and arguably offensive rendering of Indigenous Australians is destabilised through the glitches and flaws, inviting users to question the accuracy and meaning of its imagery. Fig. 4: An image generated by Midjourney from the prompt ‘A typical Australian Family’. Similarly, family portraits rendered by Dream Studio of white Australian families, depicted in idealised outback settings, have extra limbs, jumbled faces, unidentifiable animals, and ghoulish-looking babies held on hips. Midjourney’s images, by default, tended to be more ‘artistic’ and rendered in a ‘painted’ style, providing an image of a dour family of all men and boys under a tree, inviting the viewer to ask why the women are absent from the image and under what conditions a family exists without any women. In an even more haunting image from Midjourney, the family are positioned in a rural setting, outside a weathered shed, in clothes that suggest their ‘Sunday best’, however several of their faces appear inflected with the feline features of a cat sitting in the foreground—all except a floating, disembodied child’s head in the background (see fig. 4). These types of glitches have the potential to highlight not only the difficulties that GenAI has with reproducing Australian families, but also the artifice of the ‘happy’, outdoor-loving, modern Australian family (such as the images Meta produced) in its entirety. Conclusion Exploring the refusals and glitches of AI image generation tools can both reveal the contours of the operations of GenAI more broadly, and also inadvertently offer viewers of AI-generated imagery moments to reflect upon, and potentially rupture, rigid notions of subjectivity, family, fatherhood, and even the boundaries between human and animal. Fathers enmeshed with bicycles or holding unexpected iguanas, families merged together without discernible feet or hands, or even families which have hybridised with the family pet can be productive confabulations (Smith et al.). Rather than just suggesting that GenAI tools are immature and will eventually conform to cultural norms, these early forms of GenAI reveal something of their inner workings while giving users moments of pause as cultural norms glitch and are reconfigured, recombined, and ruptured. Following theorist Rosi Braidotti, we need to take a more nuanced approach to our understanding of technologies, and our understandings through technologies, engaging both in a “critical and creative manner”. Braidotti argues that we need to learn to address these contradictions not only intellectually, but also affectively and to do so in an affirmative manner. This conviction rests on the following ethical rule: it is important to be worthy of our times, the better to act upon them, in both a critical and a creative manner. It follows that we should approach our historical contradictions not as some bothersome burden, but rather as the building blocks of a sustainable present and an affirmative and hopeful future, even if this approach requires some drastic changes to our familiar mind-sets and established values. (Braidotti, viii) Building upon the idea of an “affirmative and hopeful” future, some theorists believe that generative AI has the potential to create “new forms of artistic expression” and “endless opportunities for unique multidisciplinary explorations”, although simultaneously cautioning that these must be “approached with care” (Todorovic). While the notion of the glitch rightly repositions GenAI as a complex tool rather than a thinking subject, the artificial in AI has the potential to challenge existing ways of thinking and viewing which are inherently generative of ideas if not always commercially viable, or biologically accurate content. Acknowledgment This research was supported by the Australian Research Council Centre of Excellence for the Digital Child through project number CE200100022. Thanks also to our very helpful peer reviewers for their valuable suggestions. References Ajunwa, Ifeoma. “The ‘Black Box’ at Work.” Big Data & Society 7.2 (2020). <https://doi.org/10.1177/2053951720938093>. Barassi, Veronica. “Toward a Theory of AI Errors: Making Sense of Hallucinations, Catastrophic Failures, and the Fallacy of Generative AI.” Harvard Data Science Review Special Issue 5 (2024). <https://doi.org/10.1162/99608f92.ad8ebbd4>. Bender, Emily M., et al. “On the Dangers of Stochastic Parrots: Can Language Models Be Too Big? 🦜.” Proceedings of the 2021 ACM Conference on Fairness, Accountability, and Transparency (2021): 610–623. <https://doi.org/10.1145/3442188.3445922>. 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Introduction Burning Man (BM) is a festival of art and music that materialises for one week each year in the Nevada desert. It is considered by many to be the world’s largest countercultural event. But what is BM, really? With record attendance of 69,613 in 2013 (Griffith) (the original event in 1986 had twenty), and recent event themes that have engaged with mainstream political themes such as “Green Man” (2007) and “American Dream” (2008), can BM still be considered countercultural? Was it ever? In the first part of this article, we define counterculture as a subculture that originates in the hippie movement of 1960s America and the rejection of “mainstream” values associated with post-WWII industrial culture, that aligns itself with environmentalism and ecological consciousness, and that is distinctly anti-consumer (Roszak, Making). Second, we identify BM as an art and music festival that transcends the event to travel with its desert denizens out into the “real world.” In this way, it is also a festival that has countercultural connections. Third, though BM bears some resemblance to counterculture, given that it is founded upon “Radical Self-Reliance”, BM is actually anything but countercultural because it interlocks with the current socioeconomic zeitgeist of neoliberalism, and that reflects a “new individualism” (Elliot & Lemert). BM’s ambition to be a commercial-free zone runs aground against its entanglement with market relations, and BM is also arguably a consumer space. Finally, neoliberal ideology and “new individualism” are encoded in the space of BM at the level of the spectacle (Debord). The Uchronian’s structure from BM 2006 (a cavernous wooden construction nicknamed the “Belgian Waffle”) could be read as one example. However, opportunities for personal transformation and transcendent experience may persist as counterculture moves into a global age. Defining Counterculture To talk about BM as a counterculture, we must first define counterculture. Hebdige provided a useful distinction between subculture and counterculture in an endnote to a discussion of Teds versus Rockers (148). According to Hebdige, what distinguishes counterculture from mere subculture and related styles is its association with a specific era (1967–70), that its adherents tended to hail from educated, middle-class families, and that it is “explicitly political and ideological” and thus more easily “read” by the dominant powers. Finally, it opposes the dominant culture. Counterculture has its roots in “the hippies, the flower children, the yippies” of the 60s. However, perhaps Hebdige’s definition is too narrow; it is more of an instance of counterculture than a definition. A more general definition of counterculture might be a subculture that rejects “mainstream” values, and examples of this have existed throughout time. For example, we might include the 19th century Romantics with their rejection of the Enlightenment and distrust of capitalism (Roszak 1972), or the Beat generation and post-War America (Miller). Perhaps counterculture even requires one to be a criminal: the prominent Beat writer William S. Burroughs shot guns and heroin, was a homosexual, and accidentally shot and killed his wife in a drug haze (Severo). All of these are examples of subcultures that rejected or opposed the mainstream values of the time. But it was Roszak (Making) who originally defined counterculture as the hippie movement of 1960s era college-aged middle-class American youth who revolted against the values and society inherited not only from their parents, but from the “military-industrial complex” itself, which “quite simply was the American political system” (3). Indeed, the 1960s counterculture—what the term “counterculture” has more generally come to mean—was perhaps the most radical expression of humanity ever in its ontological overthrow of industrial culture and all that it implied (and also, Roszak speculates, in so much that it may have been an experiment gone wrong on the part of the American establishment): The Communist and Socialist Left had always been as committed to industrialism as their capitalist foes, never questioning it as an inevitable historical stage. From this viewpoint, all that needed to be debated was the ownership and control of the system. But here was a dissenting movement that yearned for an entirely different quality of life. It was not simply calling the political superstructure into question; with precocious ecological insight, it was challenging the culture of industrial cities on which that superstructure stood. And more troubling still, there were those among the dissenters who questioned the very sanity of that culture. These psychic disaffiliates took off in search of altered states of consciousness that might generate altered states of society. (8) For the purposes of this paper, then, counterculture refers specifically to those cultures that find their roots in the hippie movement of the late 1960s. I embrace both Roszak’s and Hebdige’s definitions of counterculture because they define it as a unique reaction of post-WWII American youth against industrial culture and a rejection of the accompanying values of home, marriage and career. Instead, counterculture embraced ecological awareness, rejected consumption, and even directed itself toward mystical altered states. In the case of the espoused ecological consciousness, that blossomed into the contemporary (increasingly mainstream) environmental movement toward “green” energy. In the case of counterculture, the specific instance really is the definition in this case because the response of postwar youth was so strong and idiosyncratic, and there is overlap between counterculture and the BM community. So what is Burning Man? Defining Burning Man According to the event’s website: Burning Man is an annual event and a thriving year-round culture. The event takes place the week leading up to and including Labor Day, in Nevada’s Black Rock Desert. The Burning Man organization […] creates the infrastructure of Black Rock City, wherein attendees (or “participants”) dedicate themselves to the spirit of community, art, self-expression, and self-reliance. They depart one week later, leaving no trace […] Outside the event, Burning Man’s vibrant year-round culture is growing through the non-profit Burning Man Project, including worldwide Regional Groups and associated non-profits who embody Burning Man’s ethos out in the world. (“What is Burning Man?”) I interpret BM as a massive art festival and party that materialises in the desert once a year to produce one of the largest cities in Nevada, but one with increasingly global reach in which the participants feel compelled to carry the ethos forward into their everyday lives. It is also an event with an increasing number of “regional burns” (Taylor) that have emerged as offshoots of the original. Creator Larry Harvey originally conceived of burning the effigy of a man on San Francisco’s Baker Beach in 1986 in honor of the solstice (“Burning Man Timeline”). Twenty people attended the first BM. That figure rapidly rose to 800 by 1990 when for legal reasons it became necessary to relocate to the remote Black Rock desert in Nevada, the largest expanse of flat land in the United States. In the early 90s, when BM had newly relocated and attendees numbered in the low thousands, it was not uncommon for participants to mix drugs, booze, speeding cars and firearms (Bonin) (reminiscent of the outlaw associations of counterculture). As the Internet became popular in the mid-1990s word spread quickly, leading to a surge in the population. By the early 2000s attendance regularly numbered in the tens of thousands and BM had become a global phenomenon. In 2014 the festival turned 28, but it had already been a corporation for nearly two decades before transitioning to a non-profit (“Burning Man Transitions”). Burning Man as Countercultural Event BM has connections to the counterculture, though the organisation is quick to dispel these connections as myths (“Media Myths”). For example, in response to the notion that BM is a “90s Woodstock”, the organisers point out that BM is for all ages and not a concert. Rather, it is a “noncommercial environment” where the participants come to entertain each other, and thus it is “not limited by the conventions of any subculture.” The idea that BM is a “hippie” festival is also a myth, but one with some truth to it: Hippies helped create environmental ethics, founded communes, wore colorful clothing, courted mysticism, and distrusted the modern industrial economy. In some ways, this counterculture bears a resemblance to aspects of Burning Man. Hippie society was also a youth movement that often revolved around drugs, music, and checks from home. Burning Man is about “radical self-reliance”–it is not a youth movement, and it is definitely not a subculture (“Media Myths”). There are some familiar aspects of counterculture here, particularly environmental consciousness, anti-consumer tendencies and mysticism. Yet, looking at the high attendance numbers and the progression of themes in recent years one might speculate that BM is no longer as countercultural as it once was. For instance, psychedelic themes such as “Vault of Heaven” (2004) and “Psyche” (2005) gave way to “The Green Man” (2007) and “American Dream” (2008). Although “Green Man” was an environmental theme it debuted the year after Vice President Al Gore’s “An Inconvenient Truth” (2006) brought the issue of climate change to a mainstream audience. Indeed, as a global, leaderless event with a strong participatory ethos in many respects BM followed suit with the business world, particularly given it was a Limited Liability Corporation (LLC) for many years (though it was ahead of the curve): “Capitalism has learned from the counter culture. But this is not news” (Rojek 355). Similarly, just in time for the 2008 U.S. Presidential election the organisational committee decided to juxtapose “the Man” with the American flag. Therefore, there has been an arguable shift toward engagement with mainstream issues and politics in recent years (and away from mysticism). Recent themes are really re-appropriations of mainstream discourses; hence they are “agonistic” readings (Mouffe). Take for example the VoterDrive Bus, an early example of political talk at BM that engaged with mainstream politics. The driver was seven-time BM veteran Corey Mervis (also known as “Misty Mocracy”) (“Jack Rabbit Speaks”). Beginning on 22 July 2004, the VoterDrive Bus wrote the word VOTE in script across the continental United States in the months before the election, stopping in the Black Rock City (BRC) for one week during the BM festival. Four years later the theme “American Dream” would reflect this countercultural re-appropriation of mainstream political themes in the final months leading up to the 2008 Presidential election. In that year, “the Man,” a massive wooden effigy that burns on the last night of the event, stood atop a platform of windows, each inscribed with the flag of a different country. “American Dream” was as politically as it was poetically inspired. Note the agonistic appeal: “This year's art theme is about patriotism—not that kind which freights the nation state with the collective weight of ego, but a patriotism that is based upon a love of country and culture. Leave ideology at home…Ask yourself, instead…What can postmodern America, this stumbling, roused, half-conscious giant, yet give to the world?” (“2008 Art Theme: American Dream”). BM has arguably retained its countercultural authenticity despite engagement with mainstream political themes by virtue of such agonistic appeals to “American Dream”, and to “Green Man” which promoted environmental awareness, and which after all started out in the counterculture. I attended BM twice in 2006 and 2007 with “The Zombie Hotel”, one among a thousand camps in the BRC, Nevada (oddly, there were numerous zombie-themed camps). The last year I attended, the festival seemed to have come of age, and 2007 was the first in its history that BM invited corporate presence in the form of green energy companies (and informational kiosks, courtesy of Google) (Taylor). Midway through the week, as I stumbled through the haphazard common area that was The Zombie Hotel hiding from the infernal heat of the desert sun, two twin fighter jets, their paths intertwining, disturbed the sanctity of the clear, blue afternoon sky followed by a collective roar from the city. One can imagine my dismay at rumours that the fighter jets—which I had initially assumed to be some sort of military reconnaissance—were in fact hired by the BM Organizational Committee to trace the event’s symbol in the sky. Speculation would later abound on Tribe.net (“What was up with the fighter jets?”). What had BM become after all? Figure 1: Misty Mocracy & the VoterDrive Bus. Photo: Erick Leskinen (2004). Reproduced with permission. “Radical Self-Reliance”, Neoliberalism and the “New Individualism” Despite overlap with elements of counterculture, there is something quite normative about BM from the standpoint of ideology, and thus “mainstream” in the sense of favouring values associated with what Roszak calls “industrial society”, namely consumption and capitalist labor relations. To understand this, let us examine “The Ten Principles of BM”. These include: Radical Inclusion, Gifting, Decommodification, Radical Self-Reliance, Radical Self-Expression, Communal Effort, Civic Responsibility, Leaving No Trace, Participation and Immediacy (“Ten Principles of Burning Man”). These categories speak to BM’s strong connection to the counterculture. For example, “Decommodification” is a rejection of consumerism in favour of a culture of giving; “Immediacy” rejects mediation, and “Participation” stresses transformative change. Many of these categories also evoke political agonism, for example “Radical Inclusion” requires that “anyone may be a part of Burning Man”, and “Radical Self-Expression”, which suggests that no one other than the gift-giver can determine the content of the message. Finally, there are categories that also engage with concepts associated with traditional civil society and democracy, such as “Civic Responsibility”, which refers to the “public welfare”, “Participation”, and “Communal Effort.” Though at first it may seem to connect with countercultural values, upon closer inspection “Radical Self-Reliance” aligns BM with the larger socioeconomic zeitgeist under late-capitalism, subverting its message of “Decommodification.” Here is what it says: “Burning Man encourages the individual to discover, exercise and rely on his or her inner resources.” That message is transformative, even mystical, but it aligns well with a neoliberal ideology and uncertain labor relations under late capitalism. Indeed, Elliot and Lemert explore the psychological impact of a “new individualism”, setting the self in opposition to the incoming forces of globalisation. They address the question of how individuals respond to globalisation, perhaps pathologically. Elliot and Lemert clarify the socio-psychological ramifications of economic fragmentation. They envision this as inextricably caught up with the erosion of personal identity and the necessity to please “self-absorbed others” in a multiplicity of incommensurate realities (20, 21). Individuals are not merely atomised socially but fragmented psychologically, while at the macroscopic level privatisation of the economy spawns this colonisation of the personal Lifeworld, as social things move into the realm of individualised dilemmas (42). It is interesting to note how BM’s principles (in particular “Radical Self-Reliance”) evoke this fracturing of identity as identities and realities multiply in the BRC. Furthermore, the spectre of neoliberal labour conditions on “the Playa” kicks down the door for consumer culture’s entrée. Consumer society “technicises” the project of the self as a series of problems having consumer solutions with reference to expert advice (Slater 86), BM provides that solution in the form of a transformative experience through “Participation”, and acolytes of the BM festival can be said to be deeply invested in the “experience economy” (Pine & Gilmore): “We believe that transformative change, whether in the individual or in society, can occur only through the medium of deeply personal participation” (“Ten Principles”). Yet, while BM rejects consumption as part of “Decommodification”, the event has become something of a playground for new technological elites (with a taste for pink fur and glow tape rather than wine and cheese) with some camps charging as much as US $25,000 in fees per person for the week (most charge $300) (Bilton). BM is gentrifying, or as veteran attendee Tyler Hanson put it, “Burning Man is no longer a counterculture revolution. It’s now become a mirror of society” (quoted in Bilton). Neoliberalism and “new individualism” are all around at BM, and a reading of space and spectacle in the Uchronian structure reveals this encoding. Figure 2: “Message Out of the Future by Night” (also known as “the Belgian Waffle). Photo: Laurent Chavanne (2006). Reproduced with permission. “Long Gone Hippies” Republican tax reformist Grover Norquist made his way to BM for the first time this year, joining the tech elites. He subsequently proclaimed that America had a lot to learn from BM: “The story of Burning Man is one of radical self-reliance” (Norquist). As the population of the BRC surges toward seventy thousand, it may be difficult to call BM a countercultural event any longer. Given parallels between the BM ethos and neoliberal market relations and a “new individualism”, it is hard to deny that BM is deeply intertwined with counterposing forces of globalisation. However, if you ask the participants (and Norquist) they will have a different story: After you buy your ticket to Burning Man to help pay for the infrastructure, and after you pay for your own transportation, food and water, and if you optionally decide to pay to join a camp that provides some services THEN you never have to take your wallet out while at Burning Man. Folks share food, massages, alcohol, swimming pools, trampolines, many experiences. The expenses that occur prior to the festival are very reasonable and it is wonderful to walk around free from shopping or purchasing. Pockets are unnecessary. So are clothes. (Alex & Allyson Grey) Consumerism is a means to an end in an environment where the meanings of civic participation and “giving back” to the counterculture take many forms. Moreover, Thornton argued that the varied definitions of what is “mainstream” among subcultures point more to a complex and multifaceted landscape of subculture than to any coherent agreement as to what “mainstream” actually means (101), and so perhaps our entire discussion of the counterculture/mainstream binary is moot. Perhaps there is something yet to be salvaged in the spaces of participation at BM, some agonistic activity to be harnessed. The fluid spaces of the desert are the loci of community action. Jan Kriekels, founder of the Uchronia Community, holds out some hope. The Belgian based art collective hauled 150 kilometres of lumber to the BRC in the summer of 2006 to construct a freestanding, cavernous structure with a floor space of 60 by 30 metres at its center and a height of 15 metres (they promised a reforestation of the equivalent amount of trees) (Figure 1). “Don’t mistake us for long gone hippies in the desert”, wrote Kriekels in Message Out of the Future: Uchronia Community, “we are trying to build a bridge between materialism and spiritualism” (102). The Uchronians announced themselves as not only desert nomads but nomads in time (“U” signifying “nothing” and “chronos” or “time”), their time-traveller personas designed to subvert commodification, their mysterious structure (nicknamed the “Belgian Waffle” by the burners, a painful misnomer in the eyes of the Uchronians) evoking a sense of timelessness. I remember standing within that “cathedral-like” (60) structure and feeling exhilarated and lonely and cold all at once for the chill of the desert at night, and later, much later, away from the Playa in conversations with a friend we recalled Guy Debord’s “Thesis 30”: “The spectator feels at home nowhere, for the spectacle is everywhere.” The message of the Uchronians provokes a comparison with Virilio’s conceptualisations of “world time” and “simultaneity” that emerge from globalisation and digital technologies (13), part of the rise of a “globalitarianism” (15)—“world time (‘live’) takes over from the ancient, immemorial supremacy of the local time of regions” (113). A fragmented sense of time, after all, accompanies unstable labour conditions in the 21st century. Still, I hold out hope for the “resistance” inherent in counterculture as it fosters humanity’s “bothersomely unfulfilled potentialities” (Roszak, Making 16). I wonder in closing if I have damaged the trust of burners in attempting to write about what is a transcendent experience for many. It may be argued that the space of the BRC is not merely a spectacle—rather, it contains the urban “forests of gestures” (de Certeau 102). These are the secret perambulations—physical and mental—at risk of betrayal. References An Inconvenient Truth. Dir. Davis Guggenheim. Perf. Al Gore. Paramount Pictures, 2006. Bilton, Nick. “At Burning Man, the Tech Elite One-Up One Another.” The New York Times: Fashion & Style, 20 Aug. 2014. 10 Oct. 2014 ‹http://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/21/fashion/at-burning-man-the-tech-elite-one-up-one-another.html› “Burning Man Timeline.” Burningman. 10 Oct. 2014 ‹http://burningman.org/timeline/›. “Burning Man Transitions to Non-Profit Organization.” Burningman 3 Mar. 2014. 10 Oct. 2014 ‹http://blog.burningman.com/2014/03/news/burning-man-transitions-to-non-profit-organization/›. De Bord, Guy. The Society of the Spectacle. New York: Zone, 1994. De Certeau, Michel. The Practice of Everyday Life. Berkeley, Calif.: U of California P, 1984. Dust & Illusions: 30 Years of History of Burning Man. Dir. Oliver Bonin. Perf. Jerry James, Larry Harvey, John Law. Imagine, 2009. Elliot, Anthony, and Charles Lemert. The New Individualism. New York: Routledge, 2006. Grey, Alex, and Alyson Grey. “Ticket 4066, Burning Man Study.” Message to the author. 30 Nov. 2007. E-mail. Griffith, Martin. “Burning Man Draws 66,000 People to the Nevada Desert.” The Huffington Post 2 Sep. 2014. 10 Oct. 2014 ‹http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/09/02/burning-man-2014_n_5751648.html›. Hebdige, Dick. Subculture: The Meaning of Style. New York: Methuen, 1979. “Jack Rabbit Speaks.” JRS 8.32 (2004). 10 Oct. 2014 ‹http://www.burningman.com/blackrockcity_yearround/jrs/vol08/jrs_v08_i32.html›. Kriekels, Jan. Message Out of the Future: Uchronia Community. 2006. 10 Oct. 2014 ‹http://issuu.com/harmenvdw/docs/uchronia-book-low#›. “Media Myths.” Burningman. 6 Nov. 2014 ‹http://www.burningman.com/press/myths.html›. Miller, Timothy. The Hippies and American Values. Knoxville: U of Tennessee P, 1999. Mouffe, Chantal. On the Political. London: Routledge, 2005. Norquist, Grover. “My First Burning Man: Confessions of a Conservative from Washington.” The Guardian 2 Sep. 2014. 10 Oct. 2014 ‹http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/sep/02/my-first-burning-man-grover-norquist›. Pine, B. Joseph, and James H. Gilmore. The Experience Economy. Boston: Harvard Business School P, 1999. Rojek, Chris. "Leaderless Organization, World Historical Events and Their Contradictions: The ‘Burning Man’ City Case.” Cultural Sociology 8.3 (2014): 351–364. Roszak, Theodore. The Making of a Counter Culture. Oakiland, Calif.: U of California P, 1995 [1968]. Roszak, Theodore. Where the Wasteland Ends. Charlottesville, Va.: U of Virginia P, 1972. Severo, Richard. “William S. Burroughs Dies at 83.” New York Times 3 Aug. 1997. 6 Nov. 2014 ‹http://www.nytimes.com/1997/08/03/nyregion/william-s-burroughs-dies-at-83-member-of-the-beat-generation-wrote-naked-lunch.html›. Slater, Don. Consumer Culture and Modernity. Cambridge, U.K.: Polity, 1997. Taylor, Chris. “Burning Man Grows Up.” CNN: Money. 10 Oct. 2014 ‹http://money.cnn.com/magazines/business2/business2_archive/2007/07/01/100117064›. “Ten Principles of Burning Man.” Burningman. 10 Oct. 2014 ‹http://burningman.org/culture/philosophical-center/10-principles/›. Thornton, Sarah. Club Cultures: Music, Media and Subcultural Capital. Hanover, NH: Wesleyan UP, 1996. Virilio, Paul. The Information Bomb. London: Verso, 2000. “What Was Up with the Fighter Jets?” Tribe 7 Sep. 2007. 10 Oct. 2014 ‹http://bm.tribe.net/thread/84f762e0-2160-4e6e-b5af-1e35ce81a1b7›. “2008 Art Theme: American Dream.” Tribe 3 Sep. 2007. 10 Oct. 2014 ‹http://bm.tribe.net/thread/60b9b69c-001a-401f-b69f-25e9bdef95ce›.

I love memory. It reminds me of who I am and how to get home, whether there's bread in the freezer and if I've already seen a movie. It's less helpful on whether I've already met someone and utterly useless in reminding me if I owe money. Overall, though, I'd rather have it than not. Psychologists and philosophers tell us that memory is one of the ways in which we maintain the integrity of the self. I've never met anyone who's lost his memory, but we've all seen movies in which it happens. First, you lose your memory, then you're accused of a crime you can't remember committing. I forget how it turns out but I did once see a documentary about a man who'd lost his memory. It was horrible. It was driving him insane. He could remember his wife, but couldn't remember when he'd last seen her. He thought it was years ago although it had only been 5 minutes. Every time she entered the room, he traversed paroxysms of agony as though seeing her again after an eternity of waiting. The experience was overwhelming for both of them. Of course, psychoanalysts are unequivocal about the importance of memory: repressed memories are the very stuff of the unconscious and analysis helps us remember. When memories are repressed, bad things happen. As Breuer and Freud stated in 1893, "hysterics suffer mainly from reminiscences". History has also long been concerned to discover a true memory, or at least an official one. And history has become one of the main cultural battlegrounds over the right way to remember. But lately, memory has become big business. Entire industries are devoted to selling it back to us. Not private memories, but the likely memories of a group. For example, my newsagent carries at least 3 "nostalgia" magazines, replete with loving photographs of old toys, reprints of old ads, interviews with old personalities, and so on. Fortunately, they're all just a bit too old and the absence of my personal nostalgia reassures me that I'm not quite as decrepit as Generation Xers claim. Nonetheless, amongst my 200-odd TV channels, there is one devoted exclusively to old shows, TVLand. It broadcasts nothing later than 1981 and, though its policies are clearly guided by contractual availability and cost, specialises in TV of the mid-1960s. Now that is getting dangerously close to home. And I confess that, after 30 years, re-viewing episodes of Julia or Petticoat Junction or The Mod Squad ("one's white, one's black, one's blond") is an experience both compelling and embarrassing. And again, this summer, as for the past 15 years, movie screens were awash in retro-films. Not films with old-fashioned plots or deliberately nostalgic styles -- such as Raiders of the Lost Ark -- but films based on cultural artefacts of the near past: The Avengers, Lost in Space, Sergeant Bilko, McHale's Navy, another Batman, The Mask of Zorro, etc. Indeed, now that we've lived through roughly six Star Treks, Mission Impossible, The Flintstones, The Twilight Zone, The Beverly Hillbillies, The Jetsons, and in view of the fact that even now -- even as I write these very lines -- locations are being scouted for Gilligan's Island: The Movie, it seems appropriate to ask if there is a single TV show of the 1960s which will NOT become a major Hollywood movie? That's not all. I have access to approximately 10 "golden oldies" music stations, some specialising solely in "PowerHits of the '70s" or "Yesterday's Country" or "Hits of the Big Band Era". In fact, I think Big Band is making a comeback on the pop charts. Maybe everything old is new again. On the other hand, memory has also become highly political. Much more that I ever remembered. All over the world, governments and institutions are rushing to remember the wrongs of the past and issue sincere apologies. President Clinton apologised to Japanese Americans, some Australian state and local governments to Aborigines, Canada to the displaced Inuit, Tony Blair to the Irish, Swiss banks to the victims of Nazi gold. The return of the repressed is apparently highly therapeutic and certainly very virtuous. Strangely, though, the institutional process of memory recovery is happening at precisely the time that the same recovered memory theory is under attack in the courts. After having been a potent argument in the 1980s, especially in cases involving a sexual component, recovered memory is now widely discredited. Indeed, even movies-of-the-week which at one time preached recovered memory as unassailable truth now regularly use it as the cover of false accusations and gross miscarriages of justice. Even the Canadian Minister of Justice is under pressure to review the cases of all persons jailed as a result of its use. It would seem that after having been private for so many years, memory has gone public. It's a political tool, a legal argument, a business. The opposite of hysteria: we suffer from too much memory. Which leads me to my problem. I can't remember Princess Diana. This is no doubt because I avoided all mention of her when she was alive. And when she died, I was away. Not far away but conceptually away. Away from the media. I didn't follow the news till days later, when it was all over and TV had moved on to something else. Her exit, of course, was rather nasty. Not the sort of thing I'd want to witness, but certainly the sort of thing I'd like to know about. And it didn't exactly happen away from the public eye. There was, it is said, a crush of paparazzi in hot pursuit. And there are allegedly tons of photographs. So how come we haven't seen any? How have the authorities managed to control all those pictures? Supremely concerned with her image in life, Diana is fortunate that others are concerned with it in death. At least the absence of photographs allows us to preserve an unblemished memory of Diana, beautiful, beneficent, almost a people's princess. It does seem though that her memory, like her fame, is largely a by-product of media exposure. If you're in it, everyone knows about you. You're everywhere, inescapable. Your smiling face beams down on millions, your every thought reported. And it's not just the excessive, tabloid press, the fake news programmes, and the tawdry scandal sheets that indulge in this oversaturation -- although they do indulge quite a bit -- but all media. Obviously, competitive pressures are to blame. And probably also a cultivated appetite for the sordid and the scandalous. The upside of so much attention, of course, is that, once you're gone, there will be lots of images and sound bites to remember you by. These will be recycled again and again and again. Today's fragments of time are tomorrow's memories. Consequently, if you must be a public figure, try to have a good exit. Consider perhaps James Dean's advice to "live fast, die young, and leave a good looking corpse." Especially a good looking corpse. Of course, if you're out of it -- out of the media system, that is -- then, you're just out of it. Nobody will remember you anyway. This is why Elvis will never die and John Kennedy will never stop dying. Except perhaps for his heavy Las Vegas phase, virtually all of the images of the King show him as magnetic, powerful, and exciting. Colonel Parker was careful about that. Elvis constantly exudes energy, an all-too-palpable physicality, forever re-energised and re-distributed by the film images of him. And the posters, and the sound of his voice, and the myth of his wildness. Fortunately, though, Elvis had the good grace to expire privately, beyond the public eye. In this, he resembled Marilyn, Rock Hudson, and Walt Disney. Of that event, he left no record. Indeed, the absence of such a record has allowed the remaining images to fuel a new myth. Endlessly re-circulated in a media sub-system, the images prove that Elvis lives! Consequently, people -- usually those first contacted by aliens -- keep spotting him at 7-Elevens, supermarket checkouts, and isolated gas stations. Apparently, he just wanted to live life normally. The fame had become too intrusive. And who could begrudge him that? So he faked his death, left no trace, and wandered off into the wilderness. To this extent, Elvis shares the fate of Hitler and the Romanovs whose deaths were deliberately obscured. As a result, Hitler lives on, at times on a desert island, sometimes in a bunker deep beneath the earth. And wasn't that Alexis, the tsarevitch? And over there, Anastasia? Aren't they having lunch with Amelia Earhardt? Kennedy, though, left a bad image, the queasy head shot. Too public, too visible, too shocking. It wasn't what James Dean meant. And that one image has absorbed all the others. This is ironic because Kennedy was the first president to look and behave like an actor whereas it would be years before an actor could look and behave like the president. Kennedy loved the camera and the camera, as they say, loved him. He had a permanent staff photographer who generated thousands of shots. He embraced television as no president had before, dominating the televised debates, holding live press conferences, opening the White House to TV tours. He invited Robert Drew to film his 1959 nomination campaign in Primary, giving him, as is always said in these cases, "unprecedented access". But the only pictures we remember come from Dallas. Gloria Steinem called it "the day the future died". Then, if we think really hard, we remember the funeral. But we can hardly remember anything else. Pictures of Jack campaigning, playing with the kids, receiving Marilyn's birthday greetings, are almost surprising. They're so fresh, as though we'd never seen them before. Kennedy should have died like Elvis, he would have lived longer in the imagination. As it is, he only ever dies and the very publicness of his death seems to have authorised its endless restaging. Has any film ever been more publicly scrutinised, examined, and re-created than the Zapruder film? The incident has littered the culture with such stock phrases as 'lone gunman' and 'grassy knoll'. It's also the birthplace of every crazy conspiracy theory. And everyone from the Warren Commission to Oliver Stone and Jerry Seinfeld has used the phrase "Back, and to the left". It's not surprising that our memory of public events should be bound up with images of those events. Most of us, most of the time, have no other access to them. This knowledge, combined with the pervasiveness of the media system, has led clever marketers of all sorts, to attempt to stage what Daniel Boorstin in 1961 called "pseudo-events". Events which exist for the benefit of the camera, with no real substance of their own. Their purpose is precisely to create an image, a feeling, a mood. Of course, every propagandist of any skill understood these facts long before Boorstin. How many photographs were doctored on Stalin's orders? How often was the mole on Mao's chin repainted? How often was Lenin's face itself repainted with embalming fluid? And didn't Adolf Hitler surround himself with the most exquisite filmmakers, photographers, and image-makers available? You just can't dictate without a firm grasp of your image. And that's the other side of modern times. Increasingly, we all have a firm grasp of image. We are no longer the media dupes which moralists frequently presume. The media have made us all rather sophisticated in the ways of the media. Everyone understands that politicians manage their images and stage events. Everyone knows that advertising is only creatively truthful. No one believes that what happens in a film really happens. We all realise that most of what's seen on TV is spin doctoring. We're hardened. And this is no doubt why the creamy sincerity of the eager tears which now attend public disclosures, the touchy-feely goodness of anyone who can "feel our pain" are so much in demand. No matter how fake, how contrived, how manipulative, they at least look like the real thing. At one time, popular culture merely suggested shock and violence. It did not show them directly. The Kennedy assassination marked the end of that time as people turned away from the screen in horror, asking "Did they have to show us that?" We're now in a time when popular culture suggests nothing and shows everything, in as much detail as possible. This is the moment of Diana's death and we turn to our screens demanding to see more, shouting "We have a right to know!" But a slippage may be happening. We know so much about media operations -- or believe that we do -- that the media may be losing their ability to define events and construct memory. This appears to be one of the lessons of the Diana coverage: the paparazzi in particular, and the media in general, were at fault. Public anger was directed not at her driver, her companions or her lifestyle, but at the media. That the behaviour of the paparazzi remains to be fully elucidated, and that Diana had the weight of accumulated prestige and exposure on her side, make meaningful commentary more difficult, but there is a clear sense in which the public sided with perceived sincerity and genuineness and against perceived exploitation. Clearly, these matters are always open to revision, but the anger directed against the media in this affair spoke of pent-up rage, of long nursed grudges, of a generalised judgment that the media have done more harm than good. Something similar is happening in the Clinton-Lewinsky affair. The US media are apparently obsessed with this event and greatly agitated by the necessity of further coverage. Public opinion, however, has indicated just as firmly that it doesn't care and wants the whole thing to go away. There's a split between the definitional power of the media and public opinion, a drifting apart that wasn't supposed to happen. Media commentators of both the left and the right, both those who believe in media effects and those who decry the concentration of ownership, have long agreed on one thing: the media have too much power to tell us what to think. And yet, in this case, it's not happening. Indeed, 10 years from now, what will we remember? That Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky had an affair or that the media were very agitated about it? The way in which media images are linked to popular memory may be changing. We are less concerned with whether the media got the event right than with how they approached it at all. Already, concern over the Gulf War centres as much on the manner of coverage as on the legitimacy of the war's objectives. And the old complaint that the media cover elections as strategic horse races, thereby ignoring substantive issues, presumes the naivety of the audience. Everyone can tell exactly what the media are doing. So what will we remember? How will we feel in 40 years examining old footage of today's newscasts? Memory fades and images are about emotion. Will we experience the diffuse grimness of the WWII veteran watching Saving Private Ryan, identifying less with specific acts than with the general feeling of the moment? Probably. But perhaps we'll also carry with us a second layer of meaning, an equally diffuse recognition that the moment was constructed. I was watching a documentary last night about Hitler's last days. I'm sure everyone's seen it or something like it. The very fact I can be sure of this is the measure of the media's ability to shape popular memory. Hitler, visibly ailing, emerges from his bunker to acknowledge his last line of defence, a string of soldiers who are really only children. He stops as though to speak to one and pats the boy on the cheek. It's a profoundly creepy moment. One feels discomfort and distaste at being so close, one is acutely aware of the distance between the image's intention and the reality of which we have knowledge. Then, suddenly and imperceptibly, the camera shifts angles and follows Hitler down the line of soldiers, a standard travelling shot. It's invisible because that's the way military reviews are always shown. It works because we want a good view. It's compelling because it draws us into the scene. It looks so real and is plainly read that way, as historical actuality footage. But it's also plainly constructed. And that's increasingly what we see nowadays. We see the way in which images intend to connect to emotions. Maybe it's the future of all memory, to be disjointed and creepy. To acknowledge simultaneously the reality of the event and its fakeness. Rather like the performance of Hollywood actors or US presidents or publicly proffered sentiment. Clearly, we won't be dealing with the return of the repressed as we'll remember everything. We'll just have too much memory. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Paul Attallah. "Too Much Memory." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 1.2 (1998). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9808/memory.php>. Chicago style: Paul Attallah, "Too Much Memory," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 1, no. 2 (1998), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9808/memory.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Paul Attallah. (1998) Too much memory. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 1(2). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9808/memory.php> ([your date of access]).