Artykuły w czasopismach na temat „Georges Rousse”

Qu’est-ce que lire en moderne ? Walter Benjamin définit l’homme moderne, et donc aussi le lecteur moderne, comme un « caractère traumatophile ». Jules de Gaultier, le théoricien du bovarysme, compare Mme Bovary, la fameuse héroïne lectrice de Flaubert, à un artiste contraint à l’inachèvement, qui échoue à insuffler la vie à l’idéal qu’elle trouve dans les livres. Dans cet article, j’explore le cas de Georges Perec lecteur de Raymond Roussel dans un essai initulé Roussel et Venise. Esquisse d’une géographie mélancolique. Puis je m’intéresse à Perec à la fois auteur et lecteur de W, cette fiction inachevée inscrite dans un contexte autobiographique qui en dévoile l’origine traumatique. Je m’efforce de montrer que l’œuvre de Perec s’adresse à un lecteur qui lui ressemble : ce lecteur moderne, mélancolique, qui doit faire le deuil de l’achèvement. Georges Perec and the Mourning for Completion ABSTRACT What is modern reading? Walter Benjamin defines the modern man, and thus the modern reader, as a “traumatophilic type”. Jules de Gaultier, the theoretician of bovarism, compares Mrs Bovary, the famous Flaubertian reading hero, to an artist constrained to incompletion, who fails to bring the ideal she finds in books to life. In this article, I explore the case of Georges Perec as reader of Raymond Roussel in an essay entitled Roussel and Venice. Outline of a Melancholic Geography. Secondly, I focus on Perec as both author and reader of W, an incomplete fiction included in an autobiographical context which reveals its traumatic origin. I attempt to show that the work of Perec is for a reader who is similar to him: a modern, melancholic reader who mourns for completion.

A discussão concernente à relação entre a razão e a consciência moral no pensamento rousseauniano anima os longos debates entre os estudiosos de Rousseau. A influência religiosa que reivindica a primazia da consciência moral sobre a razão a que Jean-Jacques esteve exposto no decorrer de sua vida foi amplamente estudada por Pierre-Maurice Masson em La religion de J.-J. Rousseau: la formation religieuse de Rousseau. Sob outro aspecto, autores como Georges Beaulavon, Émile Bréhier e especialmente Robert Derathé, em Le rationalisme de Jean-Jacques Rousseau, compreenderam a obra do genebrino sob o prisma do racionalismo de Descartes e Malebranche. O objetivo desta pesquisa, além de trazer à tona a discussão sobre esses estudos, é mostrar que a razão e a consciência moral coexistem e interdependem-se no interior do pensamento de Rousseau.

A survey of his extensive bibliography reveals that George Mosse wrote very little about the only movement that he ever called his political “Heimat”: antifascism. Nonetheless, in his last years, while writing his memoir Confronting History, he returned to the scenes of his youthful engagement on the left, acknowledging that his “political awakening” was due not merely to his being the refugee scion of the eminent Berlin German-Jewish family whose newspapers were excoriated almost daily by the Nazis. Rather, like many in his generation, at age seventeen George was roused from a sleepy indifference to his studies at the Quaker Bootham School in York-shire by the Spanish Civil War. If his activity on behalf of Spain was still “sporadic” during his last year at Bootham, at Cambridge, which George entered in the fall of 1937, commitment became more intense and eventually, he recalled, “marked my two years as an undergraduate.”

a) Influencia de Kant, Rousseau y el Cristianismo. b) Aplicación de la Ciencia a la conducta moral. c) Mecanismos psicológicos que son prerrequisitos del comportamiento moral. d) Derechos naturales e instituciones. Bibliografía utilizada.

Since the inauguration of the civil religion debate in the United States in 1967, it has been argued that the religious dimension of American presidency should be understood as a kind of civil religion, normally based upon the definition of Jean Jacque Rousseau, or variations of this his definition. However, in this article the author argues, based upon the empirical material presented in Public Papers of the President and elsewhere, that a more accurate description of the religion dimension of some modern presidencies is public theology. He uses the presidency of George H. W. Bush as a case study.

Cette étude traite de l'organisation romanesque et de la thématique de Jacques (1834), un roman épistolaire de George Sand qui orchestre des thèmes majeurs de l'oeuvre sandienne : l'éducation et la sexualité féminines, l'androgynie, le mariage, l'inceste. Sur le modèle de la Nouvelle Héloïse (1761) de Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Jacques reprend des procédés du genre épistolaire, tout en renouvelant le traitement de thèmes romantiques : l'amour, la relation entre frère et soeur, l'inceste. À travers une structure polyphonique et un discours parodique sur le romanesque, l'auteure remet en question les rôles socioculturels traditionnels et défend une conception égalitaire des relations hommes-femmes.

The Eiffel Tower, the global icon of France, was erected as the entrance to the Paris International Exposition in 1889. It was a suitable centrepiece for the World Fair, which celebrated the centennial of the French Revolution. Although the tower was a subject of controversy at the time of its construction, many European painters have been inspired by the majestic figure of the Eiffel Tower. They picturised the tower in their portraits and cityscapes. Paul Louis Delance, Georges Seurat, Paul Signac and Henri Rousseau were the first artists to depict this symbol of modernity. Robert Delaunay and Marc Chagall used the image of the tower most frequently. Maurice Utrillo, Raoul Dufy, Fernand Léger, Diego Rivera, Max Beckmann and Christian Schad can also be counted among the artists who picturised the tower. The Eiffel Tower appears differently in the eyes of pointillist, expressionist, orfist, cubist and abstract painters. Keywords: Eiffel Tower, European art, painting.

Theatre scholars and historians assume too easily that theoretical reflection on the performative qualities of the theatre began only in the eighteenth century. In mid-eighteenth century France, writers and philosophers such as Denis Diderot, Jean le Rond D'Alembert, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Antoine-François Riccoboni, or Jean-Georges Noverre (to name but a few) showed a passionate interest in the aesthetics and the morality of performance practices in dramatic theatre, music theatre, or dance. Compared to this rich diversity of ideas in the eighteenth century, seventeenth-century French writings on theatre and the performing arts seem, at first sight, far less interesting or daring. However, this is merely a modern perception. Our idea of le théâtre classique is still rather reductionist, and often limited to the theatrical canon of Pierre Corneille, Jean Racine, and Molière. It affords a view of the performing arts that is dominated by tragedy and comedy and that, firmly embedded within a neo-Aristotelian poetics, privileges dramatic concerns above performative interests.

As others have done before me, I am honored to receive the APSA John Gaus Award. As I prepared this lecture, I realized that the Gaus award has been given by APSA 26 times; mine is the 27th. The first was awarded to Herbert Kaufman whose work set a very high standard for this honor. Reviewing the list of the other Gaus award recipients provides a picture of the development of our field. It includes a variety of individuals who represent different approaches to the intersection of public administration and political science. Among the recipients are seven individuals who had a major and personal influence on my work: Aaron Wildavsky, Frank Rourke, George Frederickson, Martha Derthick, Lou Gawthrop, Larry Lynn, and David Rosenbloom. Others are people who have been important to my own intellectual development.

Abstract The article analyzes the triviality of Austin’s version of everyday-world speech act theory (which explicitly excluded fictional uses of language) in favor of its specific value for investigation of fictionality, invoking ideas of Pierre Bourdieu and Émile Benveniste. Noting the thematic prominence in the Misanthrope of two of Austin’s favorite examples of speech acts, for marriage (“I do”) and courtroom testimony (“I swear to tell the truth . . . ”), the article examines the work’s dramatic ambiguities in relation to Austin’s theory—and in particular, its shortcomings. Molière thus articulates the profoundly divided nature of Alceste indicated by Donneau de Visé (“ridicule”/“juste”), Rousseau (“un homme droit, sincère, estimable,” but also facing the world as “un personnage ridicule”), and recently by Georges Forestier and Claude Bourqui (the melancholic, jealous lover vs. the philosophe misanthrope, the world champion of sincerity), permanently at war with himself, in a war he is bound to lose. The article concludes that Molière constructs much of the famously conversational dramatic texture and indeterminate conclusion not through “successful” speech acts, but rather through failed ones; a reflection, too, of the rapidly transforming social values of the play’s historical moment.

En partant des travaux récents sur la notion fort complexe de voix (émission sonore, pensée silencieuse, mode d’existence, et « souffle » créatif), l’article se propose d’examiner deux romans, Consuelo de George Sand (1844) et Loin de Médine (1991) d’Assia Djebar. L’aventure littéraire des deux romancières prend son origine dans la tradition lyrique (qui remonte à Platon et passe par Rousseau), et s’articule sur le mode de la perte conformément à la tradition (occidentale et orientale) incarnée par de nombreuses figures féminines (Shéhérazade, Ondine, Orphée, Marsyas, Mélusine). Les deux femmes croient au pouvoir de la parole, libératrice, unificatrice et re-fondatrice du monde plein des origines. Cette foi commune se traduit par l’omniprésence de la voix (organe, schème et métaphore de l’écriture) et l’attention portée aux vibrations du corps. Les deux fictions contreviennent aux lois traditionnelles de la mimesis proposant ainsi une autre voie (voix) de l’engagement (éthique et esthétique).

Theatre historians are now reconsidering traditional attitudes towards ‘theatre riots’ of the past, in the light of the new perception of ‘mob’ activity pioneered by the social historian George Rudé. Here, Athenaide Dallett looks at two more recent audience revolts – the well-documented riots at the opening of Synge's The Playboy of the Western World in Dublin in 1907, and the indignant response of Berkeley students in 1968 to the Living Theatre's presumption in Paradise Now, in lecturing them about a revolution already taking place on the streets. In both cases, she suggests, riots were provoked by a breach of the contract between performers and audience, taken as legitimating a revolutionary response by such social theorists as Locke and Rousseau. Athenaide Dallett, who recently gained her doctorate from Harvard, teaches at the University of Connecticut at Torrington, and is currently working on a study of the connections between political philosophy and theatre.

The socio-political manipulation of euphemisms across cultures as alternate metaphors with ideological force has been analyzed in the present paper. The study was inspired by George Orwell's treatment of euphemisms as ideological tools for hedging, Lakoff and Johnson's idea of metaphors as elements structuring human thought and Roman Jakobson's model to study metaphor and metonymy as instances of romantic and realistic tendencies respectively in the user, and ordering of human behavior accordingly. A close analysis of the employment of euphemisms in differing social set-ups suggests that some euphemisms reveal a hegemonic impulse behind their usage, while a different category of euphemisms behave as counter-balancing force against this hegemonic impulse exerting dominance in a community. To comprehend the significance of this distinction better, the researchers suggest that in the existing categorization of euphemisms, two new categories – hegemonic euphemisms and resistance euphemisms – may be added. Further investigation into the cultural function of euphemisms reveals that euphemisms function as signs of signs, therefore, meaningless words. The study concludes that such a usage of euphemisms is problematic since euphemistic expressions are capable of reducing (unwanted or undesirable) meaning as redundant, superfluous, and ineffectual to rouse human conscience. Keywords: euphemisms; cultural hegemony; cultural capital; symbolic power

In a letter that she wrote to her childhood governess and religious mentor Maria Lewis in 1839, George Eliot describes a pervading and distressful mental anxiety – one that would come to greatly influence both the constitution and development of her fiction. Still within the throes of her evangelical ardor, Eliot laments in this letter that the “disjointed specimens” of history, poetry, science, and philosophy have become “all arrested and petrified and smothered by the fast thickening every day accession of actual events, relative anxieties, and household cares and vexations” (Eliot, Letters 1: 29). The letter illustrates more the disjointed nature of Eliot's own mind than the disjointed nature of the things occupying it. Apparently under the weight of some religious guilt, she retracts this complaint and apologizes for it; but, then she immediately contradicts her retraction and defends her struggle by expanding her own individual failure into the larger realm of universal human failure: How deplorably and unaccountably evanescent are our frames of mind, as various as the forms and hues of the summer clouds. A single word is sometimes enough to give an entirely new mould to our thoughts; at least I find myself so constituted, and therefore to me it is pre-eminently important to be anchored within the veil, so that outward things may only act as winds to agitating sails, and be unable to send me adrift. (Letters 1: 30) Possibly fearing a rebuke from Lewis, Eliot finds it necessary to call upon the evanescence of “our frames of mind” to characterize her early struggle with the painful inconsistency of her own consciousness. On the one hand, Eliot feels a sense of evangelical guilt that her consciousness can be so influenced by “a single word” that her household duties and her spiritual life suffer. She equates this aspect of her mind to a deplorable, moral failing that threatens to set her adrift from her religious foundation. But on the other hand, Eliot contradicts this sense of failure with her resentment at the household anxieties and everyday vexations that are able to smother and petrify the extraordinary workings of her mind. To prevent herself from “saying anything still more discreditable to my head and heart,” she imagines herself as a child “wand'ring far alone, / That none might rouse me from my waking dream” (Letters 1: 30). But Eliot awakes from this dream to the disheartening revelation of “life's dull path and earth's deceitful hope” (Letters 1: 30). For a time, this painful deceit compels her to remain solidly within the confines of her duty and faith, but it simultaneously begins to unravel the binding that so ardently holds her.

This painting by George Stubbs (1724–1806) was probably commissioned by John Hunter (1728–1793) as a visual record of two poorly known exotic primates, the drill, Mandrillus leucophaeus (F. Cuvier), and a hamadryas baboon, Papio hamadryas (L.), at a time when there was confusion about the different kinds of apes and monkeys. The drill is supported in his erect posture by a staff, which can be read as proof of this ape's proximity to man, but also of its less-than-human status. At that time, Rousseau and Monboddo viewed apes as progenitors of mankind, while David Hume's concept of conjectural history attempted to reconstruct how human nature might have changed during savage man's passage from nature to culture. Hunter, with his many preparations of monkeys and apes and his views on gradation, was interested in this topic. Stubbs's depictions of two other macaques, a crab-eating macaque, Macaca fascicularis (Raffles), and a Barbary ‘ape’, Macaca sylvanus (L.), indicate that he had seen the three main types of monkey and ape as perceived in the eighteenth century: monkey, baboon and ‘ape’, creatures then discriminated by their tails. His painting of a crab-eating macaque holding a peach may symbolize monkeys' muteness – a supposed indication of their higher rationality.

Asbtract This year's Distinguished Historian, Professor Jean-Louis Flandrin of the Université de Paris 8 - Vincennes and the Ecole des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales, surveyed the state of his major field of interest, the inter-relationship between family and psychological history. These are relatively new fields, and the links between them are comparatively unexplored as a result. Yet, in spite of some false starts, much has been accomplished, the work-in-progress contains great promise and the possible avenues for future work are almost limitless. Much will be achieved if the crossfertilization of the various disciplines continues. The author then reviews the sub-fields of family history, and cites those works, both published and unpublished, which appear to offer fresh insights and/or research approaches. Problems and weaknesses are also considered. For example, while Georges Duby's book, Le chevalier, la femme et le prêtre is highly praised as a pathfinding study which should be the inspiration for much future work in the area of the study of the evolution of Christian marriage, Professor Flandrin outlines his reservations regarding certain of Duby's theses. Similarly, the work of Edward Shorter and Elizabeth Bandinter receives more than passing criticism. Professor Flandrin devotes the greatest amount of comment to the topic of the quality and nature of interfamily relations over time - a topic which, he concludes, has roused much sterile and unproductive debate but which is richly documented in the sources and ought to be the object of considerable research in the future. Other topics of comment include a) the size and structure of the domestic unit b) the nature of family ties c) the intermarriage of family members d) the various motivations for marriage over time e) the evolution of the notion of a Christian marriage f) the mores surrounding sexual relations within marriage g) feelings between and among family members The author concludes with a warning of the need to be sensitive to the variety of interpretation possible in assessing historical behaviour which may vary widely from our own contemporary cultural norms.

Friends, Citizens, Strangers: Essays on Where We Belong, Richard Vernon, Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2005, pp. vii, 325.“Should we put locality before citizenship, citizenship before human obligations?” This is the central question animating Richard Vernon's new book. He defines the three sorts of relationship it invokes as follows. Ties of friendship are those partial relationships which “arise from the particular and local character of our lives, lived as, clearly they must be, in particular local contexts”; ties of citizenship are those that “arise from sharing political space, from common subjection to law, and from participation in institutions and processes through which consent to political authority is generated”; and ties among strangers “arise among those who are ‘only humans,’ [who are] categorically but not concretely related to us” (3–4). Vernon recognizes that all three are important, and that is why he believes we need to face “the question of priority of attachment.” He himself does so through an investigation of citizenship, which he pursues in two ways. First, with a number of fascinating chapters—all of them models of scholarship in the history of political ideas—that examine how the question of priority of attachment was dealt with by eight writers, four English (Locke, Wollstonecraft, George Eliot and Mill) and four French (Rousseau, Comte, Proudhon and Bergson). Vernon claims that his question has, for historical reasons, been particularly pronounced in these two countries, although I must say that I cannot think of one country in which it has not. Regardless, he then deals with it more directly, in chapters about the notion of a crime against humanity and about the very nature of special ties and what they imply we owe each other. Finally, in the book's concluding chapter, Vernon offers us an outline of his own solution to the question.

R. A. Butler has been one of the outstanding figures in twentieth-century British politics. After his death The Times described him as ‘the creator of the modern educational system, the key-figure in the revival of post-war Conservatism, arguably the most successful chancellor since the war and un-questionably a Home Secretary of reforming zeal’. His record of achievement was unequalled by his rivals in the contests for the party leadership in 1957 and in 1963, but on both occasions the leadership eluded him. How and why this happened was understandably of the greatest interest to those who reviewed Rab's memoirs, The art of the possible, which were published in 1971. These memoirs won unanimous praise for their literary excellence, but otherwise met with a rather mixed reception. Enoch Powell, one of Rab's supporters in 1963, described them as ‘a work of astonishing self-revelation [belonging] with the classic Confessions. Augustine and Rousseau were not more unsparing of themselves than Rab…’ The ‘large episodes’ of Rab's career, Powell went on, ‘are treated with a generous vision (including, it need not be added, a generosity to Rab) which leaves the reader with improved understanding and perspective’. Powell's comments were echoed by others on the Right, but the Left was more critical. Anthony Howard noted that ‘what tend…to get wholly left out are the mistakes and blunders’ – the now infamous Villacoublay meeting during the Suez crisis; and Rab's astonishing admission to the journalist George Gale during the 1964 campaign that the election was slipping Labour's way. Harold Wilson, who had offered Rab the mastership of Trinity, was perhaps the least charitable of all. He found The art of the possible disappointing because, he claimed, Rab underwrote the great occasions. Rab's reticence about Suez, however, upset Wilson less than the description of his tribulations at the hands of Labour MPs as government spokesman for the policy of non-intervention during the Spanish Civil War. Here was an issue which could excite the older soldiers of the British Left, and if Wilson was alone among Rab's reviewers in making more than passing reference to Rab's association with appeasement this was why.

INTRODUCTION. The Bcl-2 inhibitor Venetoclax provides profound reductions in circulating chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL) cells in the majority of patients. However, lymph node (LN) responses are less robust, which may be linked to an acquired resistance imposed by pro-survival signals. Prime among these is CD40 stimulation leading to activation of NF-kB, and induction of Bcl-XL expression1. Bcl-XL is a prime determinant of resistance to Venetoclax2 and regulatory mechanisms of its expression are of clinical significance. Cytokines IL-21 and IL-4 are secreted by T helper cells and abundant in the CLL lymph node microenvironment. Importantly, IL-21 and IL-4 play an important role in CLL survival and proliferation3. In the present study, we investigated how signals from T helper cytokines IL-21 or IL-4 affect Bcl-XL expression as a model for the CLL LN microenvironment, specifically in relation to Venetoclax resistance. RESULTS. Following CD40 stimulation, IL-21 and IL-4 show opposing effects on Bcl-XL expression. Correspondingly, this was associated with CD40-induced resistance to Venetoclax which was augmented by IL-4 and reversed by IL-21. We subsequently investigated the rewiring between CD40 activation, differential cytokine signaling and Bcl-XL expression. IL-21 or IL-4 stimulation correspond with differential STAT3 or -6 phosphorylation and STAT3 and -6 have predicted binding sites near the known p65 and p52 binding sites in the Bcl-XL promoter region. Using reporter assays with Bcl-XL promotor constructs we demonstrate competition (through IL-21-induced STAT3) or synergy (through IL-4 induced-STAT6) with CD40-mediated activation of the NF-kB pathway. By applying in situ proximity ligation (isPLA) in primary CLL cells, we showed direct interaction of both (non-)canonical p65 and p52 with STAT3 and STAT6. Moreover, time-course analyses indicated that STAT3 drives NF-kB out of the nucleus, whereas STAT6 keeps NF-kB inside the nucleus, and this distinction controls Bcl-XL expression. These observations suggest that cross-talk between JAK/STAT signaling and NF-kB signaling happens by direct binding to the Bcl-XL promoter and by limiting NF-kB availability at the Bcl-XL promoter. CONCLUSIONS. These data show that protective signals from the CLL microenvironment can be tipped towards apoptosis sensitivity by interfering with JAK/STAT and NF-kB signaling, providing novel therapeutic clues in case of emerging resistance to targeted drugs such as Venetoclax. 1 J. Tromp, S. Tonino, J. Elias, A. Jaspers, D. Luijks, A. Kater, R. van Lier, M. van Oers, E. Eldering. Dichotomy in NF-kB signaling and chemoresistance in IGHV mutated versus unmutated CLL cells upon CD40/TLR9 triggering. Oncogene 2010. 2 R. Thijssen, E. Slinger, K. Weller, C. Geest, T. Beaumont, M. van Oers, A. Kater, E. Eldering. Resistance to ABT-199 induced by microenvironmental signals in chronic lymphocytic leukemia can be counteracted by CD20 antibodies or kinase inhibitors. Haematologica 2015. 3 C. Schleiss, W. Ilias, O. Tahar, Y. Güler, L. Miguet, C. Mayeur-Rousse, L. Mauvieux, L. Fornecker, E. Toussaint, R. Herbrecht, F. Bertrand. M. Maumy-Bertrand, T. Martin, S. Fournel, P. Georgel, S. Bahram, L. Vallat. BCR-associated factors driving chronic lymphocytic leukemia cells in proliferation ex vivo. Scientific Reports 2019. Disclosures Eldering: Celgene: Research Funding; Roche: Research Funding; Janssen Pharmaceutical Companies: Research Funding.

(francuski) Durant ses 15 ann?es de r?gne, le souverain d'Epire et plus tard empereur de Thessalonique, Theodore Doukas, fort de ses nombreuses victoires face aux Latins et aux Bulgares lui ayant valu de repousser dans une large mesure les fronti?res de son Etat, a acquis un grand prestige aupr?s de ses sujets. Pourtant, on ne lui conna?t aucun ?loge le c?l?brant comme cela est le cas pour ses homologues, et ce non seulement de la dynastie des Comn?nes et des Anges au XIIe si?cle, mais aussi parmi les Lascaris de Nic?e. Les raisons pour lesquelles la propagande de Th?odore Doukas a omis de recourir a la rh?torique doivent ?tre, a ce qu'il semble, recherch?es dans les circonstances historiques, voire le d?sint?r?t de ce souverain pour cette discipline, et non dans l'absence d'orateurs instruits et de talents. Le r?le d'?crivain aulique aurait pu ?tre endosse, par exemple, par Apokaukos Chomatenos et Georges Bardanes, qui occupaient d'importantes fonctions eccl?siastiques dans l'Etat ?pirote, mais aussi Michel Choniates et Euthyme Tornikes, qui avaient d?j? ?cris des ?loges pour deux empereurs respectivement Isaac II et Alexis III. Toutefois, quand bien m?me la rh?torique n'existait pas en tant qu'?l?ment du c?r?monial aulique en vigueur dans l'Etat ?pirote, elle gardait toute sa place dans les lettres des dignitaires eccl?siastiques ?rudits. Il est ainsi permis de consid?rer que l'absence d'?loges de Th?odore Doukas a ?t?, en partie, compens?e par les lettres que lui a adress?es le m?tropolite de Naupacte, Jean Apokaukos. Sur plus de 150 lettres de sa main, aujourd'hui conserv?es, pas moins de 21 ?taient adress?es au souverain d'Epire. Bien que ces derni?res aient quasiment toujours ?t? r?dig?es pour des raisons pratiques - Apokaukos y exposant des revendications personnelles ou au nom d'autrui - leur partie introductive renferme tr?s r?guli?rement un ?loge de Theodore Doukas qui n'est pas sans rappeler, parfois, les discours ?pidictiques. Une lecture et analyse attentives de ces lettres laissent apparaitre que, des le d?but du r?gne de Theodore Doukas, et au plus tard a partir de 1218, soit avant sa proclamation en tant qu'empereur (1225/26), Apokaukos a soutenu les ambitions imp?riales de ce souverain. Dans la p?riode 1218-1220 on rel?ve plusieurs allusions au fait que Theodore Doukas se verra conf?rer le pouvoir imp?rial par exemple lorsqu'il pr?voit que Theodore rev?tira bient?t les chausses rouges (cf. Epirotica 245.23-24) et qu'il recevra l'onction imp?riale (cf. Epirotica 247.23-27). Plus encore, durant cette m?me p?riode, et ce a deux reprises, Apokaukos appelle explicitement Theodore Doukas notre empereur, une premi?re fois dans une lettre adress?e a Theodore lui-m?me (cf. NP 271.11-20) et une seconde fois dans une lettre adress?e au patriarche de Nic?e, Manuel Ier, en 1222 (cf. Epirotica 272.30-31). N?anmoins, ce n'est qu'avec la proclamation de Theodore Doukas en tant qu'empereur que les lettres d'Apokaukos rev?tent le ton d'enkomia du souverain ?pirote, ce qu'Apokaukos annonce lui-m?me dans sa premi?re lettre adress?e a Theodore imm?diatement ?pres sa proclamation en tant qu'empereur (cf. NP 289.24-31). A partir de cet instant, lorsqu'il s'adresse directement a l'empereur, il emploie le terme de basileus, ce qui n'a jamais ?t? le cas auparavant. Parall?lement, on note l'apparition de plusieurs lieux communs, caract?ristiques des ?loges adresses aux empereurs, jusqu'alors absents dans ses lettres. Apokaukos, par exemple exprime sa crainte que son art de la rh?torique ne soit pas suffisant pour louer, comme il se doit, les vertus de l'empereur (cf. Bees 77.25-31) Theodore Doukas est compare aux empereurs ant?rieurs, en affirmant qu'il a surpasse tous ses pr?d?cesseurs par sa vertu et ses actes (cf. Bees 69) l'empereur de Thessalonique est compare au Christ (cf. Bees 71.1-3) et aux guides v?t?rotestamentaires du peuple ?lu. Enfin, Apokaukos introduit alors un nouveau motif exprimant l'espoir que Theodore Doukas lib?rera Constantinople et recouvrera le tr?ne imp?rial. .

O artigo explora a postura paradoxal de Georges Rousse que, se definindo como um “artistaviajante”, realiza instalações e as fixa através da fotografia. Como podemos ao mesmo tempo habitar e viajar? Cruzando a obra de Georges Rousse com o “Quadriparti” de Heidegger, com a “casa natal” de Bachelard e a poesia de Hölderlin, testaremos a hipótese que habitar consiste em fazer mutações no espaço de tal maneira que migramos para o lugar. Estudaremos como se opera uma mutação na paisagem distante em um lugar relacional, depois como o habitante migra da exterioridade a uma interioridade carnal, enfim, como o habitar se redefine por sua extensão do campo cotidiano, àquele da arte. O nomadismo seria a maneira de habitar do artista que só se manteria criador por uma migração, sempre reativada, do habitual ao inabitual?

The origin of the art work can be based on many places. It is seen that dreams also constitute an important resource for artists by inspiring many works. In this article, dream-themed works of artists from different periods and styles are analyzed. In the study, Giotto di Bondone, Nicolas Dipre, Georges de La Tour, Henry Fuseli, Francisco de Goya, Jean Jules Antoine Lecomte du Nouy, William Blake, Utagawa Toyokuni, Pierre-Cécile Puvis de Chavannes, Odilon Redon, Henri Rousseau, Salvador Dali , Henry Matisse and Frida Kahlo's dream concept works were evaluated. While evaluating the works, the sources of the dream-themed works were searched. It has been determined that the works originate from religious, psychological, literary and cultural influences. Artists have revealed the phenomenon of dream by blending it with the plastic of the painting within their own period features and original sensitivities. The concept of dream and its effect in terms of creating plastic language were examined within the data obtained by literature review and qualitative research methods. The findings obtained are important as they will contribute to the art world and shed light on the period.

ABSTRACT: This study contemplates cross-sensory experiences as represented in late eighteenth-century thought, prior to George Sachs’s description of synesthesia in 1812. Sachs’s medical dissertation is now considered to be the first convincing scientific report of synesthesia in literature. Yet, less objective historical instances of cross-sensory experiences are not new to music, the visual arts, and poetry. Since these instances are difficult to assess on the part of modern disciplines (including musicology) due to their subjective nature, references to cross-sensory experiences prior to this date are either overlooked or simply ignored. The Medieval and Renaissance understandings of multisensory associations, deriving from natural science and cosmology, gradually gave way to rationalized discussions based on mathematics, physics, and practical experimentations as time elapsed. In eighteenth-century literature, allusions to sound-colour parallels enjoy special attention in the writings of Voltaire, Rousseau, Diderot, among others. In discussing the validity of these associations and their mechanisms, some authors extended these correspondences to other senses as well: touch, taste, and smell. This research is rooted in a historical survey of Enlightenment approaches to multisensory experiences—along with their priority for reason—discussing to which extent they are strictly ‘scientific,’ since the long eighteenth century still witnessed the coexistence of natural, cosmological, and philosophical readings of cross-sensory analogies. It also inquires whether Enlightenment thought established a philosophical foundation for initial investigations on music synesthesia. Finally, this study searches for a place for Sachs’s dissertation among Enlightenment debates—the philosophical and historical context that afforded its conception.

Autobiography as hermeneutics of the self, from Rousseau to Le Clézio. This article investigates the hypothesis that autobiography can be regarded as a type of hermeneutics of the self. In order to achieve this, a selection of French autobiographical texts was analysed. As this study is a reworked version of an inaugural lecture, it presents an overview rather than a detailed analysis of the theories or the texts it refers to. Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Confessions, generally regarded as a cornerstone of modern autobiography, was used as a point of departure for the interpretation of operations of understanding at work in autobiographical texts. The article demonstrates how the writers of the rest of the corpus of texts question Rousseau’s historical model in different ways according to more recent concepts of the self. Thus it is argued that George Perec replaces the historical model of understanding with an approach based on deciphering signs from the past; that Nathalie Sarraute combines the New Novel’s concept of the divided subject with that of tropismes in order to give a truthful representation of her childhood; and that Roland Barthes problematises the notion of language as a medium of expression of subjectivity in his ‘anti-outobiography’. This study furthermore demonstrates how Marguerite Yourcenar breaks with the anthropomorphism associated with humanism to pave the way for the realisation that the presence of the Other profoundly determines the understanding of the self. Finally, the ethics of dealing with the Other in intercultural encounters, as recorded in Ken Bugul and Jean-Marie Le Clézio’s autobiographies, is examined. The article shows how, from the 18th century onwards, literary and philosophical trends influenced the act of understanding and interpreting the individual existence and hence the nature of autobiography.

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Le terme « ethnopsychiatrie » a été proposé pour la première fois, autour des années 1940, par le psychiatre et diplomate haïtien Louis Mars (1945). « Ethno-psych-iatrie » vient de ethnos qui en grec ancien, et à la suite d’une série de glissements sémantiques signifie tour à tour famille, tribu, peuple, nation, race. Le terme psuche indique les idées d'âme et d'esprit et, enfin, celui de iatros réfère au médecin, au guérisseur, au soin et au médicament. La notion d’ethnopsychiatrie consiste donc en cette alliance complexe entre ethnos, psuche et iatros. Dans la présente rubrique, l’ethnopsychiatrie est sommairement abordée selon trois dimensions essentielles, à savoir : 1. l’ethnopsychiatrie comme ensemble de théories et de pratiques culturelles; 2. l’ethnopsychiatrie comme discipline anthropologique; et 3. l’ethnopsychiatrie comme pratique clinique. 1. En tant que théorie et pratique culturelle, l’ethnopsychiatrie se veut universelle. Pour Georges Devereux (1908-1985), considéré comme le fondateur de l’ethnopsychanalyse (variante fondatrice de l’ethnopsychiatrie) (Laplantine 2007), « il n’est pas de peuple sans ‘’ethnopsychiatrie’’, c’est-à-dire sans son propre repérage, sans ses modalités de prise en charge des désordres, de ce type de négativité que la science appelle ‘’psychopatologie’’ » (cité par Nathan 2011). L’alliance complexe entre ethnos, psuche et iatros (ethno-psych-iatrie), se décline cependant de multiples façons et par différents peuples pour construire des espaces d’expression du désordre, du mal, du malheur, du mal-être, de la maladie, de la souffrance sociale et de leur dimension cosmogonique. Ces espaces sont des ethnopsychiatries plurielles que chaque société humaine abrite comme dans les traditions ayurvédique, humorale, homéopathique, exorcistique, chamanistique qui s’ajoutent à une liste interminable de théories et d’actions au sujet de la maladie et de l’univers. L’ethnopsychiatrie inclut aussi des rituels tels que, parmi tant d’autres, Mpombo, Mizuka et Zebola qui déploient un répertoire de gestes, de signes et d’êtres mythiques, et qui permettent aux femmes congolaises de (re)négocier leur rôle social et de (re)prendre une parole singulière pour exprimer leur mal-être dans une société où la parole dominante est généralement collective. Loin du Congo, nous retrouvons en Afrique de l’Est et dans la Péninsule arabique, le Zar, un rite impliquant essentiellement des femmes et favorisant lui aussi la résolution de conflits par l’expression collective de ceux-ci. Dans l’ensemble, l’ethnopsychiatrie contribue à la saisie des désordres intrapsychiques, interpersonnels ou sociaux, et cosmogoniques menaçants (Mekki-Berrada 2013). L’ethnopsychiatrie peut être considérée comme un « fait culturel total » qui se décline dans toutes les cultures et dans toutes les sociétés à travers les cinq continents. Au-delà de tous les particularismes, l’ethnopsychiatrie demeure à chaque fois culturellement située et consiste idéalement à transformer un monde chaotique en un monde qui fait sens pour la personne souffrante et son entourage. La psychiatrie contemporaine, elle-même, peut être considérée comme étant une ethnopsychiatrie parce qu'elle est comme les autres culturellement ancrée et dotée d’un ensemble de théories et de pratiques qui lui sont propres (Mekki-Berrada, 2013). Le « fou » dans l’Europe du XVIIIe siècle était un être de « déraison », dans le sens foucaldien du terme, au même titre que tous les autres exclus de la « raison » dominante de l’époque mêlant valeurs religieuses chrétiennes et valeurs sociales aristocratiques et monarchiques; le « fou », « l’insensé » se retrouvait alors avec les mendiants, les homosexuels, les libertins, les prostituées, tous entassés dans les hôpitaux généraux à des fin de contrôle social (Foucault 1972). La psychiatrie moderne est née dans l’Europe de l’Ouest du XIXe siècle quand le fou cessa d’être délinquant, pour être considéré comme malade. Même si, partiellement libéré du regard inquisiteur de l’Église et de la Monarchie, le « déraisonnable » devient aujourd’hui tantôt proie, tantôt sujet, au regard de la psychiatrie contemporaine. 2. En tant que discipline, l’ethnopsychiatrie se propose d’étudier les ethnopsychiatries comme espaces culturels où convergent les savoirs nosologiques, étiologiques et thérapeutiques au sujet du « désordre » mental, social et cosmogonique. L’ethnopsychiatrie-discipline ne constitue pas un bloc théorique monolithique. Sans nous arrêter sur les particularismes régionaux ou nationaux de l’anthropologie (« américaine », « britannique », « française »), la tendance historique générale de l’ethnopsychiatrie veut que cette discipline étudie, à ses débuts, la geste thérapeutique « exotique », non-occidentale, non-biomédicale. Avec le tournant interprétatif inauguré en anthropologie dans les années 1970 par Clifford Geertz et ce que l’on nommera dans les années 1980, avec Arthur Kleinman et Byron Good, l’anthropologie médicale interprétative, l’ethnopsychiatrie va cesser de se limiter aux espaces ethnomédicaux non-occidentaux pour se pencher aussi sur les «traditions ethnomédicales occidentales» incluant la biomédecine et la psychiatrie (Mekki-Berrada 2013), tout en plongeant dans le foisonnement des symboles et des interprétations de la maladie, du mal et du malheur. L’anthropologie médicale interprétative utilisera la culture comme moteur explicatif et principal cheval de bataille théorique. Elle sera cependant vite soumise aux vives critiques de Soheir Morsy (1979) et d'Allan Young (1982). Pour ces auteurs, l'approche interprétative « surculturaliserait » la maladie car elle en privilégierait les significations culturelles et en évacuerait les dimensions sociales et politiques. Cette critique sera poursuivie par Baer et Singer (2003) au sein d’un nouveau paradigme qu’ils nommeront « anthropologie médicale critique », paradigme dans lequel l’économie politique de la santé mentale est le moteur explicatif de la maladie et de la souffrance. De ce point de vue la culture serait un outil idéologique au service de la classe dominante, un « réseau de significations autant que de mystifications » (Keesing 1987 cité par Good 1994) qui camouflerait les inégalités sociales. Généralement considérée comme radicale sur le plan théorique, l’anthropologie médicale critique finira par trouver un équilibre des plus constructifs avec un autre courant nommé « anthropologie médicale interprétative-critique » (Lock et Scheper-Hughes 1996) qui offre l’avantage conceptuel et méthodologique de n’évacuer ni le culturel ni le politique, mais articule ces éléments pour mieux cerner l’enchevêtrement complexe des dimensions tant culturelles et microsociales de la maladie mentale et de la souffrance sociale que leurs enjeux macrosociaux. 3. En tant que pratique clinique, l’ethnopsychiatrie est relativement récente. Si Devereux apparaît comme le fondateur incontesté de l’ethnopsychiatrie-discipline, ce sont ses étudiants, Tobie Nathan et Marie-Rose Moro, qui fonderont l’ethnopsychiatrie-clinique à partir des années 1980, tous trois Français « venus d’ailleurs », porteurs et bricoleurs d’identités métissées. L’ethnopsychiatrie-clinique est une pratique psychiatrique, mais aussi psychologique, dépendamment de l’orientation centrale du « thérapeute principal » qui est soit psychiatre (ex. : Moro), soit psychologue (ex. : Nathan). En Amérique du Nord, ce sont essentiellement des psychiatres qui pratiquent l’ethnopsychiatrie-clinique, ou plutôt l’une de ses variantes, la « psychiatrie transculturelle » (Kirmayer, Guzder, Rousseau 2013) dont les principaux chefs de file sont basés à Harvard Medical School (ex. : Arthur Kleinman) ou à McGill University (ex. : Laurence Kirmayer, Cécile Rousseau). Il est à noter que l’ethnopsychiatrie clinique est très peu en vogue en dehors de l’Amérique du Nord et de l’Europe de l’Ouest. Il existe un certain nombre de variantes du dispositif clinique, mais une consultation ethnopsychiatrique nécessite au minimum : 1. un groupe de thérapeutes issus de cultures et de disciplines diverses, dont un-e seul est responsable et en charge de la circulation de la parole ; 2. la langue maternelle des patients et la présence d’interprètes culturels, ainsi que le passage d’une langue à l’autre, sont des éléments centraux du dispositif clinique afin d’aider à l’identification de nuances, subtilités, connotations et catégories culturelles; 3. le patient est fortement invité à se présenter en consultation avec des personnes qui lui sont significatives dans son propre réseau social ; 4. le dispositif groupal et le passage d’une langue à l’autre posent un cadre multi-théorique et l’ethnopsychiatre peut ainsi établir « un cadre métissé dans lequel chaque élément du matériel [biographique] peut-être interprété selon l’une ou l’autre logique » (Nathan 1986:126). Un tel dispositif facilite la mise en place d’un « espace intermédiaire » qui fait intervenir la culture comme « levier thérapeutique » et permet de révéler des conflits interpersonnels et intrapsychiques (Laplantine 2007 ; Streit, Leblanc, Mekki-Berrada 1998). Les ethnopsychiatres cliniciens procèdent souvent eux-mêmes à des « mini ethnographies » (« mini ethnography » ; Kleinman et Benson 2006) en se mettant « à l’école des gens qui consultent, pas l’inverse » (Nathan 2007). Ces mini ethnographies ont pour outil les « modèles explicatifs de la maladie » (« Illness Explanatory Models » ; Kleinman 1988) qui ont pour but d’être à l’écoute des perspectives des patients pour mieux explorer leur culture ainsi que les dimensions sociales et culturelles de la maladie mentale. En plus d’explorer la dimension culturelle du désordre, l’ethnopsychiatrie cherche à mieux comprendre la dimension psychiatrique des cultures tout en évitant de sur-psychiatriser la culture et de sur-culturaliser la psychiatrie (Laplantine 2007). Dans tous les cas, dès le début de la discipline qu’il a fondée, Devereux (1977) proposait une perspective « complémentariste » encore très utilisée aujourd’hui. Celle-ci exige le recours à la psychanalyse et à l’anthropologie de façon non simultanée, en ce sens que l’ethnopsychiatre est appelée à d’abord épuiser son recours à l’une des deux disciplines avant de se référer à l’autre, et ce, de façon constante. La méthode complémentariste s’accompagne nécessairement de la « décentration » qui est une attitude ou un mécanisme incontournable, qui force le thérapeute à identifier et à minimiser, dans la rencontre clinique, l’impact de sa subjectivité "égocentrée" ou "sociocentrée". En somme l’ethnopsychiatrie, telle que sommairement abordée ici, est un espace culturel où convergent les savoirs nosologiques, étiologiques et thérapeutiques, tous culturellement situés, et qui prend pour objet le « désordre » mental, social et cosmogonique; elle est aussi une discipline anthropologique qui se propose d’étudier ces espaces culturels ; elle est enfin une pratique clinique. Il s’agit de trois pans indissociables et constitutifs d’un même trièdre.

IntroductionIn the year 2000, a group of likeminded individuals got together and convened the first annual World Barista Championship in Monte Carlo. With twelve competitors from around the globe, each competitor was judged by seven judges: one head judge who oversaw the process, two technical judges who assessed technical skills, and four sensory judges who evaluated the taste and appearance of the espresso drinks. Competitors had fifteen minutes to serve four espresso coffees, four cappuccino coffees, and four “signature” drinks that they had devised using one shot of espresso and other ingredients of their choice, but no alcohol. The competitors were also assessed on their overall barista skills, their creativity, and their ability to perform under pressure and impress the judges with their knowledge of coffee. This competition has grown to the extent that eleven years later, in 2011, 54 countries held national barista championships with the winner from each country competing for the highly coveted position of World Barista Champion. That year, Alejandro Mendez from El Salvador became the first world champion from a coffee producing nation. Champion baristas are more likely to come from coffee consuming countries than they are from coffee producing countries as countries that produce coffee seldom have a culture of espresso coffee consumption. While Ireland is not a coffee-producing nation, the Irish are the highest per capita consumers of tea in the world (Mac Con Iomaire, “Ireland”). Despite this, in 2008, Stephen Morrissey from Ireland overcame 50 other national champions to become the 2008 World Barista Champion (see, http://vimeo.com/2254130). Another Irish national champion, Colin Harmon, came fourth in this competition in both 2009 and 2010. This paper discusses the history and development of coffee and coffee houses in Dublin from the 17th century, charting how coffee culture in Dublin appeared, evolved, and stagnated before re-emerging at the beginning of the 21st century, with a remarkable win in the World Barista Championships. The historical links between coffeehouses and media—ranging from print media to electronic and social media—are discussed. In this, the coffee house acts as an informal public gathering space, what urban sociologist Ray Oldenburg calls a “third place,” neither work nor home. These “third places” provide anchors for community life and facilitate and foster broader, more creative interaction (Oldenburg). This paper will also show how competition from other “third places” such as clubs, hotels, restaurants, and bars have affected the vibrancy of coffee houses. Early Coffee Houses The first coffee house was established in Constantinople in 1554 (Tannahill 252; Huetz de Lemps 387). The first English coffee houses opened in Oxford in 1650 and in London in 1652. Coffee houses multiplied thereafter but, in 1676, when some London coffee houses became hotbeds for political protest, the city prosecutor decided to close them. The ban was soon lifted and between 1680 and 1730 Londoners discovered the pleasure of drinking coffee (Huetz de Lemps 388), although these coffee houses sold a number of hot drinks including tea and chocolate as well as coffee.The first French coffee houses opened in Marseille in 1671 and in Paris the following year. Coffee houses proliferated during the 18th century: by 1720 there were 380 public cafés in Paris and by the end of the century there were 600 (Huetz de Lemps 387). Café Procope opened in Paris in 1674 and, in the 18th century, became a literary salon with regular patrons: Voltaire, Rousseau, Diderot and Condorcet (Huetz de Lemps 387; Pitte 472). In England, coffee houses developed into exclusive clubs such as Crockford’s and the Reform, whilst elsewhere in Europe they evolved into what we identify as cafés, similar to the tea shops that would open in England in the late 19th century (Tannahill 252-53). Tea quickly displaced coffee in popularity in British coffee houses (Taylor 142). Pettigrew suggests two reasons why Great Britain became a tea-drinking nation while most of the rest of Europe took to coffee (48). The first was the power of the East India Company, chartered by Elizabeth I in 1600, which controlled the world’s biggest tea monopoly and promoted the beverage enthusiastically. The second was the difficulty England had in securing coffee from the Levant while at war with France at the end of the seventeenth century and again during the War of the Spanish Succession (1702-13). Tea also became the dominant beverage in Ireland and over a period of time became the staple beverage of the whole country. In 1835, Samuel Bewley and his son Charles dared to break the monopoly of The East India Company by importing over 2,000 chests of tea directly from Canton, China, to Ireland. His family would later become synonymous with the importation of coffee and with opening cafés in Ireland (see, Farmar for full history of the Bewley's and their activities). Ireland remains the highest per-capita consumer of tea in the world. Coffee houses have long been linked with social and political change (Kennedy, Politicks; Pincus). The notion that these new non-alcoholic drinks were responsible for the Enlightenment because people could now gather socially without getting drunk is rejected by Wheaton as frivolous, since there had always been alternatives to strong drink, and European civilisation had achieved much in the previous centuries (91). She comments additionally that cafés, as gathering places for dissenters, took over the role that taverns had long played. Pennell and Vickery support this argument adding that by offering a choice of drinks, and often sweets, at a fixed price and in a more civilized setting than most taverns provided, coffee houses and cafés were part of the rise of the modern restaurant. It is believed that, by 1700, the commercial provision of food and drink constituted the second largest occupational sector in London. Travellers’ accounts are full of descriptions of London taverns, pie shops, coffee, bun and chop houses, breakfast huts, and food hawkers (Pennell; Vickery). Dublin Coffee Houses and Later incarnations The earliest reference to coffee houses in Dublin is to the Cock Coffee House in Cook Street during the reign of Charles II (1660-85). Public dining or drinking establishments listed in the 1738 Dublin Directory include taverns, eating houses, chop houses, coffee houses, and one chocolate house in Fownes Court run by Peter Bardin (Hardiman and Kennedy 157). During the second half of the 17th century, Dublin’s merchant classes transferred allegiance from taverns to the newly fashionable coffee houses as places to conduct business. By 1698, the fashion had spread to country towns with coffee houses found in Cork, Limerick, Kilkenny, Clonmel, Wexford, and Galway, and slightly later in Belfast and Waterford in the 18th century. Maxwell lists some of Dublin’s leading coffee houses and taverns, noting their clientele: There were Lucas’s Coffee House, on Cork Hill (the scene of many duels), frequented by fashionable young men; the Phoenix, in Werburgh Street, where political dinners were held; Dick’s Coffee House, in Skinner’s Row, much patronized by literary men, for it was over a bookseller’s; the Eagle, in Eustace Street, where meetings of the Volunteers were held; the Old Sot’s Hole, near Essex Bridge, famous for its beefsteaks and ale; the Eagle Tavern, on Cork Hill, which was demolished at the same time as Lucas’s to make room for the Royal Exchange; and many others. (76) Many of the early taverns were situated around the Winetavern Street, Cook Street, and Fishamble Street area. (see Fig. 1) Taverns, and later coffee houses, became meeting places for gentlemen and centres for debate and the exchange of ideas. In 1706, Francis Dickson published the Flying Post newspaper at the Four Courts coffee house in Winetavern Street. The Bear Tavern (1725) and the Black Lyon (1735), where a Masonic Lodge assembled every Wednesday, were also located on this street (Gilbert v.1 160). Dick’s Coffee house was established in the late 17th century by bookseller and newspaper proprietor Richard Pue, and remained open until 1780 when the building was demolished. In 1740, Dick’s customers were described thus: Ye citizens, gentlemen, lawyers and squires,who summer and winter surround our great fires,ye quidnuncs! who frequently come into Pue’s,To live upon politicks, coffee, and news. (Gilbert v.1 174) There has long been an association between coffeehouses and publishing books, pamphlets and particularly newspapers. Other Dublin publishers and newspapermen who owned coffee houses included Richard Norris and Thomas Bacon. Until the 1850s, newspapers were burdened with a number of taxes: on the newsprint, a stamp duty, and on each advertisement. By 1865, these taxes had virtually disappeared, resulting in the appearance of 30 new newspapers in Ireland, 24 of them in Dublin. Most people read from copies which were available free of charge in taverns, clubs, and coffee houses (MacGiolla Phadraig). Coffee houses also kept copies of international newspapers. On 4 May 1706, Francis Dickson notes in the Dublin Intelligence that he held the Paris and London Gazettes, Leyden Gazette and Slip, the Paris and Hague Lettres à la Main, Daily Courant, Post-man, Flying Post, Post-script and Manuscripts in his coffeehouse in Winetavern Street (Kennedy, “Dublin”). Henry Berry’s analysis of shop signs in Dublin identifies 24 different coffee houses in Dublin, with the main clusters in Essex Street near the Custom’s House (Cocoa Tree, Bacon’s, Dempster’s, Dublin, Merchant’s, Norris’s, and Walsh’s) Cork Hill (Lucas’s, St Lawrence’s, and Solyman’s) Skinners’ Row (Bow’s’, Darby’s, and Dick’s) Christ Church Yard (Four Courts, and London) College Green (Jack’s, and Parliament) and Crampton Court (Exchange, and Little Dublin). (see Figure 1, below, for these clusters and the locations of other Dublin coffee houses.) The earliest to be referenced is the Cock Coffee House in Cook Street during the reign of Charles II (1660-85), with Solyman’s (1691), Bow’s (1692), and Patt’s on High Street (1699), all mentioned in print before the 18th century. The name of one, the Cocoa Tree, suggests that chocolate was also served in this coffee house. More evidence of the variety of beverages sold in coffee houses comes from Gilbert who notes that in 1730, one Dublin poet wrote of George Carterwright’s wife at The Custom House Coffee House on Essex Street: Her coffee’s fresh and fresh her tea,Sweet her cream, ptizan, and whea,her drams, of ev’ry sort, we findboth good and pleasant, in their kind. (v. 2 161) Figure 1: Map of Dublin indicating Coffee House clusters 1 = Sackville St.; 2 = Winetavern St.; 3 = Essex St.; 4 = Cork Hill; 5 = Skinner's Row; 6 = College Green.; 7 = Christ Church Yard; 8 = Crampton Court.; 9 = Cook St.; 10 = High St.; 11 = Eustace St.; 12 = Werburgh St.; 13 = Fishamble St.; 14 = Westmorland St.; 15 = South Great George's St.; 16 = Grafton St.; 17 = Kildare St.; 18 = Dame St.; 19 = Anglesea Row; 20 = Foster Place; 21 = Poolbeg St.; 22 = Fleet St.; 23 = Burgh Quay.A = Cafe de Paris, Lincoln Place; B = Red Bank Restaurant, D'Olier St.; C = Morrison's Hotel, Nassau St.; D = Shelbourne Hotel, St. Stephen's Green; E = Jury's Hotel, Dame St. Some coffee houses transformed into the gentlemen’s clubs that appeared in London, Paris and Dublin in the 17th century. These clubs originally met in coffee houses, then taverns, until later proprietary clubs became fashionable. Dublin anticipated London in club fashions with members of the Kildare Street Club (1782) and the Sackville Street Club (1794) owning the premises of their clubhouse, thus dispensing with the proprietor. The first London club to be owned by the members seems to be Arthur’s, founded in 1811 (McDowell 4) and this practice became widespread throughout the 19th century in both London and Dublin. The origin of one of Dublin’s most famous clubs, Daly’s Club, was a chocolate house opened by Patrick Daly in c.1762–65 in premises at 2–3 Dame Street (Brooke). It prospered sufficiently to commission its own granite-faced building on College Green between Anglesea Street and Foster Place which opened in 1789 (Liddy 51). Daly’s Club, “where half the land of Ireland has changed hands”, was renowned for the gambling that took place there (Montgomery 39). Daly’s sumptuous palace catered very well (and discreetly) for honourable Members of Parliament and rich “bucks” alike (Craig 222). The changing political and social landscape following the Act of Union led to Daly’s slow demise and its eventual closure in 1823 (Liddy 51). Coincidentally, the first Starbucks in Ireland opened in 2005 in the same location. Once gentlemen’s clubs had designated buildings where members could eat, drink, socialise, and stay overnight, taverns and coffee houses faced competition from the best Dublin hotels which also had coffee rooms “in which gentlemen could read papers, write letters, take coffee and wine in the evening—an exiguous substitute for a club” (McDowell 17). There were at least 15 establishments in Dublin city claiming to be hotels by 1789 (Corr 1) and their numbers grew in the 19th century, an expansion which was particularly influenced by the growth of railways. By 1790, Dublin’s public houses (“pubs”) outnumbered its coffee houses with Dublin boasting 1,300 (Rooney 132). Names like the Goose and Gridiron, Harp and Crown, Horseshoe and Magpie, and Hen and Chickens—fashionable during the 17th and 18th centuries in Ireland—hung on decorative signs for those who could not read. Throughout the 20th century, the public house provided the dominant “third place” in Irish society, and the drink of choice for itd predominantly male customers was a frothy pint of Guinness. Newspapers were available in public houses and many newspapermen had their own favourite hostelries such as Mulligan’s of Poolbeg Street; The Pearl, and The Palace on Fleet Street; and The White Horse Inn on Burgh Quay. Any coffee served in these establishments prior to the arrival of the new coffee culture in the 21st century was, however, of the powdered instant variety. Hotels / Restaurants with Coffee Rooms From the mid-19th century, the public dining landscape of Dublin changed in line with London and other large cities in the United Kingdom. Restaurants did appear gradually in the United Kingdom and research suggests that one possible reason for this growth from the 1860s onwards was the Refreshment Houses and Wine Licences Act (1860). The object of this act was to “reunite the business of eating and drinking”, thereby encouraging public sobriety (Mac Con Iomaire, “Emergence” v.2 95). Advertisements for Dublin restaurants appeared in The Irish Times from the 1860s. Thom’s Directory includes listings for Dining Rooms from the 1870s and Refreshment Rooms are listed from the 1880s. This pattern continued until 1909, when Thom’s Directory first includes a listing for “Restaurants and Tea Rooms”. Some of the establishments that advertised separate coffee rooms include Dublin’s first French restaurant, the Café de Paris, The Red Bank Restaurant, Morrison’s Hotel, Shelbourne Hotel, and Jury’s Hotel (see Fig. 1). The pattern of separate ladies’ coffee rooms emerged in Dublin and London during the latter half of the 19th century and mixed sex dining only became popular around the last decade of the 19th century, partly infuenced by Cesar Ritz and Auguste Escoffier (Mac Con Iomaire, “Public Dining”). Irish Cafés: From Bewley’s to Starbucks A number of cafés appeared at the beginning of the 20th century, most notably Robert Roberts and Bewley’s, both of which were owned by Quaker families. Ernest Bewley took over the running of the Bewley’s importation business in the 1890s and opened a number of Oriental Cafés; South Great Georges Street (1894), Westmoreland Street (1896), and what became the landmark Bewley’s Oriental Café in Grafton Street (1927). Drawing influence from the grand cafés of Paris and Vienna, oriental tearooms, and Egyptian architecture (inspired by the discovery in 1922 of Tutankhamen’s Tomb), the Grafton Street business brought a touch of the exotic into the newly formed Irish Free State. Bewley’s cafés became the haunt of many of Ireland’s leading literary figures, including Samuel Becket, Sean O’Casey, and James Joyce who mentioned the café in his book, Dubliners. A full history of Bewley’s is available (Farmar). It is important to note, however, that pots of tea were sold in equal measure to mugs of coffee in Bewley’s. The cafés changed over time from waitress- to self-service and a failure to adapt to changing fashions led to the business being sold, with only the flagship café in Grafton Street remaining open in a revised capacity. It was not until the beginning of the 21st century that a new wave of coffee house culture swept Ireland. This was based around speciality coffee beverages such as espressos, cappuccinos, lattés, macchiatos, and frappuccinnos. This new phenomenon coincided with the unprecedented growth in the Irish economy, during which Ireland became known as the “Celtic Tiger” (Murphy 3). One aspect of this period was a building boom and a subsequent growth in apartment living in the Dublin city centre. The American sitcom Friends and its fictional coffee house, “Central Perk,” may also have helped popularise the use of coffee houses as “third spaces” (Oldenberg) among young apartment dwellers in Dublin. This was also the era of the “dotcom boom” when many young entrepreneurs, software designers, webmasters, and stock market investors were using coffee houses as meeting places for business and also as ad hoc office spaces. This trend is very similar to the situation in the 17th and early 18th centuries where coffeehouses became known as sites for business dealings. Various theories explaining the growth of the new café culture have circulated, with reasons ranging from a growth in Eastern European migrants, anti-smoking legislation, returning sophisticated Irish emigrants, and increased affluence (Fenton). Dublin pubs, facing competition from the new coffee culture, began installing espresso coffee machines made by companies such as Gaggia to attract customers more interested in a good latté than a lager and it is within this context that Irish baristas gained such success in the World Barista competition. In 2001 the Georges Street branch of Bewley’s was taken over by a chain called Café, Bar, Deli specialising in serving good food at reasonable prices. Many ex-Bewley’s staff members subsequently opened their own businesses, roasting coffee and running cafés. Irish-owned coffee chains such as Java Republic, Insomnia, and O’Brien’s Sandwich Bars continued to thrive despite the competition from coffee chains Starbucks and Costa Café. Indeed, so successful was the handmade Irish sandwich and coffee business that, before the economic downturn affected its business, Irish franchise O’Brien’s operated in over 18 countries. The Café, Bar, Deli group had also begun to franchise its operations in 2008 when it too became a victim of the global economic downturn. With the growth of the Internet, many newspapers have experienced falling sales of their printed format and rising uptake of their electronic versions. Most Dublin coffee houses today provide wireless Internet connections so their customers can read not only the local newspapers online, but also others from all over the globe, similar to Francis Dickenson’s coffee house in Winetavern Street in the early 18th century. Dublin has become Europe’s Silicon Valley, housing the European headquarters for companies such as Google, Yahoo, Ebay, Paypal, and Facebook. There are currently plans to provide free wireless connectivity throughout Dublin’s city centre in order to promote e-commerce, however, some coffee houses shut off the wireless Internet in their establishments at certain times of the week in order to promote more social interaction to ensure that these “third places” remain “great good places” at the heart of the community (Oldenburg). Conclusion Ireland is not a country that is normally associated with a coffee culture but coffee houses have been part of the fabric of that country since they emerged in Dublin in the 17th century. These Dublin coffee houses prospered in the 18th century, and survived strong competition from clubs and hotels in the 19th century, and from restaurant and public houses into the 20th century. In 2008, when Stephen Morrissey won the coveted title of World Barista Champion, Ireland’s place as a coffee consuming country was re-established. 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This paper argues that illegitimacy is a concept that relates to almost all of the fundamental ways in which Western society has traditionally organised itself. Sex, family and marriage, and the power of the church and state, are all implicated in the various ways in which society reproduces itself from generation to generation. All employ the concepts of legitimacy and illegitimacy to define what is and what is not permissible. Further, the creation of the illegitimate can occur in more or less legitimate ways; for example, through acts of consent, on the one hand; and force, on the other. This paper uses the study of an English Renaissance text, Shakespeare’s Henry V, to argue that these concepts remain potent ones, regularly invoked as a means of identifying and denouncing perceived threats to the good ordering of the social fabric. In western societies, many of which may be constructed as post-marriage, illegitimate is often applied as a descriptor to unlicensed migrants, refugees and asylum seekers. In countries subject to war and conflict, rape as a war crime is increasingly used by armies to create fractures within the subject community and to undermine the paternity of a cohort of children. In societies where extramarital sex is prohibited, or where rape has been used as a weapon of war, the bastard acts as physical evidence that an unsanctioned act has been committed and the laws of society broken, a “failure in social control” (Laslett, Oosterveen and Smith, 5). This paper explores these themes, using past conceptions of the illegitimate and bastardy as an explanatory concept for problematic aspects of legitimacy in contemporary culture.Bastardy was a particularly important issue in sixteenth and seventeenth century Europe when an individual’s genealogy was a major determining factor of social status, property and identity (MacFarlane). Further, illegitimacy was not necessarily an aspect of a person’s birth. It could become a status into which they were thrust through the use of divorce, for example, as when Henry VIII illegitimised his daughter Mary after annulling his marriage to Mary’s mother, Catherine of Aragon. Alison Findlay’s study of illegitimacy in Renaissance literature lists over 70 portrayals of illegitimacy, or characters threatened with illegitimacy, between 1588 and 1652 (253–257). In addition to illegitimacy at an individual level however, discussions around what constitutes the “illegitimate” figure in terms of its relationship with the family and the wider community, are also applicable to broader concerns over national identity. In work such as Stages of History, Phyllis Rackin dissected images of masculine community present in Shakespeare’s history plays to expose underlying tensions over gender, power and identity. As the study of Henry V indicates in the following discussion, illegitimacy was also a metaphor brought to bear on issues of national as well as personal identity in the early modern era. The image of the nation as a “family” to denote unity and security, both then and now, is rendered complex and problematic by introducing the “illegitimate” into that nation-family image. The rhetoric used in the recent debate over the Scottish independence referendum, and in Australia’s ongoing controversy over “illegitimate” migration, both indicate that the concept of a “national bastard”, an amorphous figure that resists precise definition, remains a potent rhetorical force. Before turning to the detail of Henry V, it is useful to review the use of “illegitimate” in the early modern context. Lacking an established position within a family, a bastard was in danger of being marginalised and deprived of any but the most basic social identity. If acknowledged by a family, the bastard might become a drain on that family’s economic resources, drawing money away from legitimate children and resented accordingly. Such resentment may be reciprocated. In his essay “On Envy” the scientist, author, lawyer and eventually Lord Chancellor of England Francis Bacon explained the destructive impulse of bastardy as follows: “Deformed persons, and eunuchs, and old men, and bastards, are envious. For he that cannot possibly mend his own case will do what he can to impair another’s.” Thus, bastardy becomes a plot device which can be used to explain and to rationalise evil. In early modern English literature, as today, bastardy as a defect of birth is only one meaning for the word. What does “in everything illegitimate” (quoting Shakespeare’s character Thersites in Troilus and Cressida [V.viii.8]) mean for our understanding of both our own society and that of the late sixteenth century? Bastardy is an important ideologeme, in that it is a “unit of meaning through which the ‘social space’ constructs the ideological values of its signs” (Schleiner, 195). In other words, bastardy has an ideological significance that stretches far beyond a question of parental marital status, extending to become a metaphor for national as well as personal loss of identity. Anti-Catholic polemicists of the early sixteenth century accused priests of begetting a generation of bastards that would overthrow English society (Fish, 7). The historian Polydore Vergil was accused of suborning and bastardising English history by plagiarism and book destruction: “making himself father to other men’s works” (Hay, 159). Why is illegitimacy so important and so universal a metaphor? The term “bastard” in its sense of mixture or mongrel has been applied to language, to weaponry, to almost anything that is a distorted but recognisable version of something else. As such, the concept of bastardy lends itself readily to the rhetorical figure of metaphor which, as the sixteenth century writer George Puttenham puts it, is “a kind of wresting of a single word from his owne right signification, to another not so natural, but yet of some affinitie or coueniencie with it” (Puttenham, 178). Later on in The Art of English Poesie, Puttenham uses the word “bastard” to describe something that can best be recognised as being an imperfect version of something else: “This figure [oval] taketh his name of an egge […] and is as it were a bastard or imperfect rounde declining toward a longitude.” (101). “Bastard” as a descriptive term in this context has meaning because it connects the subject of discussion with its original. Michael Neill takes an anthropological approach to the question of why the bastard in early modern drama is almost invariably depicted as monstrous or evil. In “In everything illegitimate: Imagining the Bastard in Renaissance Drama,” Neill argues that bastards are “filthy”, using the term as it is construed by Mary Douglas in her work Purity and Danger. Douglas argues that dirt is defined by being where it should not be, it is “matter in the wrong place, belonging to ‘a residual category, rejected from our normal scheme of classifications,’ a source of fundamental pollution” (134). In this argument the figure of the bastard aligns strongly with the concept of the Other (Said). Arguably, however, the anthropologist Edmund Leach provides a more useful model to understand the associations of hybridity, monstrosity and bastardy. In “Animal Categories and Verbal Abuse”, Leach asserts that our perceptions of the world around us are largely based on binary distinctions; that an object is one thing, and is not another. If an object combines attributes of itself with those of another, the interlapping area will be suppressed so that there may be no hesitation in discerning between them. This repressed area, the area which is neither one thing nor another but “liminal” (40), becomes the object of fear and of fascination: – taboo. It is this liminality that creates anxiety surrounding bastards, as they occupy the repressed, “taboo” area between family and outsiders. In that it is born out of wedlock, the bastard child has no place within the family structure; yet as the child of a family member it cannot be completely relegated to the external world. Michael Neill rightly points out the extent to which the topos of illegitimacy is associated with the disintegration of boundaries and a consequent loss of coherence and identity, arguing that the bastard is “a by-product of the attempt to define and preserve a certain kind of social order” (147). The concept of the liminal figure, however, recognises that while a by-product can be identified and eliminated, a bastard can neither be contained nor excluded. Consequently, the bastard challenges the established order; to be illegitimate, it must retain its connection with the legitimate figure from which it diverges. Thus the illegitimate stands as a permanent threat to the legitimate, a reminder of what the legitimate can become. Bastardy is used by Shakespeare to indicate the fear of loss of national as well as personal identity. Although noted for its triumphalist construction of a hero-king, Henry V is also shot through with uncertainties and fears, fears which are frequently expressed using illegitimacy as a metaphor. Notwithstanding its battle scenes and militarism, it is the lawyers, genealogists and historians who initiate and drive forward the narrative in Henry V (McAlindon, 435). The reward of the battle for Henry is not so much the crown of France as the assurance of his own legitimacy as monarch. The lengthy and legalistic recital of genealogies with which the Archbishop of Canterbury proves to general English satisfaction that their English king Henry holds a better lineal right to the French throne than its current occupant may not be quite as “clear as is the summer sun” (Henry V 1.2.83), but Henry’s question about whether he may “with right and conscience” make his claim to the French throne elicits a succinct response. The churchmen tell Henry that, in order to demonstrate that he is truly the descendant of his royal forefathers, Henry will need to validate that claim. In other words, the legitimacy of Henry’s identity, based on his connection with the past, is predicated on his current behaviour:Gracious lord,Stand for your own; unwind your bloody flag;Look back into your mighty ancestors:Go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire’s tomb,From whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit…Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,And with your puissant arm renew their feats:You are their heir, you sit upon their throne,The blood and courage that renowned themRuns in your veins….Your brother kings and monarchs of the earthDo all expect that you should rouse yourselfAs did the former lions of your blood. (Henry V 1.2.122 – 124)These exhortations to Henry are one instance of the importance of genealogy and its immediate connection to personal and national identity. The subject recurs throughout the play as French and English characters both invoke a discourse of legitimacy and illegitimacy to articulate fears of invasion, defeat, and loss of personal and national identity. One particular example of this is the brief scene in which the French royalty allow themselves to contemplate the prospect of defeat at the hands of the English:Fr. King. ‘Tis certain, he hath pass’d the river Somme.Constable. And if he be not fought withal, my lord,Let us not live in France; let us quit all,And give our vineyards to a barbarous people.Dauphin. O Dieu vivant! shall a few sprays of us,The emptying of our fathers’ luxury,Our scions, put in wild and savage stock,Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds,And overlook their grafters?Bourbon. Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!...Dauphin. By faith and honour,Our madams mock at us, and plainly sayOur mettle is bred out; and they will giveTheir bodies to the lust of English youthTo new-store France with bastard warriors. (Henry V 3.5.1 – 31).Rape and sexual violence pervade the language of Henry V. France itself is constructed as a sexually vulnerable female with “womby vaultages” and a “mistress-court” (2.4.131, 140). In one of his most famous speeches Henry graphically describes the rape and slaughter that accompanies military defeat (3.3). Reading Henry V solely in terms of its association of military conquest with sexual violence, however, runs the risk of overlooking the image of bastards themselves as both the threat and the outcome of national defeat. The lines quoted above exemplify the extent to which illegitimacy was a vital metaphor within early modern discourses of national as well as personal identity. Although the lines are divided between various speakers – the French King, Constable (representing the law), Dauphin (the Crown Prince) and Bourbon (representing the aristocracy) – the images develop smoothly and consistently to express English dominance and French subordination, articulated through images of illegitimacy.The dialogue begins with the most immediate consequence of invasion and of illegitimacy: the loss of property. Legitimacy, illegitimacy and property were so closely associated that a case of bastardy brought to the ecclesiastical court that did not include a civil law suit about land was referred to as a case of “bastardy speciall”, and the association between illegitimacy and property is present in this speech (Cowell, 14). The use of the word “vine” is simultaneously a metonym for France and a metaphor for the family, as in the “family tree”, conflating the themes of family identity and national identity that are both threatened by the virile English forces.As the dialogue develops, the rhetoric becomes more elaborate. The vines which for the Constable (from a legal perspective) represented both France and French families become instead an attempt to depict the English as being of a subordinate breed. The Dauphin’s brief narrative of the English origins refers to the illegitimate William the Conqueror, bastard son of the Duke of Normandy and by designating the English as being descendants of a bastard Frenchman the Dauphin attempts to depict the English nation as originating from a superabundance of French virility; wild offshoots from a true stock. Yet “grafting” one plant to another can create a stronger plant, which is what has happened here. The Dauphin’s metaphors, designed to construct the English as an unruly and illegitimate offshoot of French society, a product of the overflowing French virility, evolve instead into an emblem of a younger, stronger branch which has overtaken its enfeebled origins.In creating this scene, Shakespeare constructs the Frenchmen as being unable to contain the English figuratively, still less literally. The attempts to reduce the English threat by imagining them as “a few sprays”, a product of casual sexual excess, collapses into Bourbon’s incoherent ejaculation: “Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!” and the Norman bastard dominates the conclusion of the scene. Instead of containing and marginalising the bastard, the metaphoric language creates and acknowledges a threat which cannot be marginalised. The “emptying of luxury” has engendered an uncontrollable illegitimate who will destroy the French nation beyond any hope of recovery, overrunning France with bastards.The scene is fascinating for its use of illegitimacy as a means of articulating fears not only for the past and present but also for the future. The Dauphin’s vision is one of irreversible national and familial disintegration, irreversible because, unlike rape, the French women’s imagined rejection of their French families and embrace of the English conquerors implies a total abandonment of family origins and the willing creation of a new, illegitimate dynasty. Immediately prior to this scene the audience has seen the Dauphin’s fear in action: the French princess Katherine is shown learning to speak English as part of her preparation for giving her body to a “bastard Norman”, a prospect which she anticipates with a frisson of pleasure and humour, as well as fear. This scene, between Katherine and her women, evokes a range of powerful anxieties which appear repeatedly in the drama and texts of the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries: anxieties over personal and national identity, over female chastity and masculine authority, and over continuity between generations. Peter Laslett in The World We Have Lost – Further Explored points out that “the engendering of children on a scale which might threaten the social structure was never, or almost never, a present possibility” (154) at this stage of European history. This being granted, the Dauphin’s depiction of such a “wave” of illegitimates, while it might have no roots in reality, functioned as a powerful image of disorder. Illegitimacy as a threat and as a strategy is not limited to the renaissance, although a study of renaissance texts offers a useful guidebook to the use of illegitimacy as a means of polarising and excluding. Although as previously discussed, for many Western countries, the marital status of one’s parents is probably the least meaningful definition associated with the word “illegitimate”, the concept of the nation as a family remains current in modern political discourse, and illegitimate continues to be a powerful metaphor. During the recent independence referendum in Scotland, David Cameron besought the Scottish people not to “break up the national family”; at the same time, the Scottish Nationalists have been constructed as “ungrateful bastards” for wishing to turn their backs on the national family. As Klocker and Dunne, and later O’Brien and Rowe, have demonstrated, the emotive use of words such as “illegitimate” and “illegal” in Australian political rhetoric concerning migration is of long standing. Given current tensions, it might be timely to call for a further and more detailed study of the way in which the term “illegitimate” continues to be used by politicians and the media to define, demonise and exclude certain types of would-be Australian immigrants from the collective Australian “national family”. Suggestions that persons suspected of engaging with terrorist organisations overseas should be stripped of their Australian passports imply the creation of national bastards in an attempt to distance the Australian community from such threats. But the strategy can never be completely successful. Constructing figures as bastard or the illegitimate remains a method by which the legitimate seeks to define itself, but it also means that the bastard or illegitimate can never be wholly separated or cast out. In one form or another, the bastard is here to stay.ReferencesBeardon, Elizabeth. “Sidney's ‘Mongrell Tragicomedy’ and Anglo-Spanish Exchange in the New Arcadia.” Journal for Early Modern Cultural Studies 10 (2010): 29 - 51.Davis, Kingsley. “Illegitimacy and the Social Structure.” American Journal of Sociology 45 (1939).John Cowell. The Interpreter. Cambridge: John Legate, 1607.Greenblatt, Stephen. Renaissance Self-Fashioning: From More to Shakespeare. 1980. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005.Findlay, Alison. Illegitimate Power: Bastards in Renaissance Drama. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009.Hay, Denys. Polydore Vergil: Renaissance Historian and Man of Letters. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1952.Laslett, Peter. The World We Have Lost - Further Explored. London: Methuen, 1983.Laslett, P., K. Oosterveen, and R. M. Smith, eds. Bastardy and Its Comparative History. London: Edward Arnold, 1980.Leach, Edmund. “Anthropological Aspects of Language: Animal Categories and Verbal Abuse.” E. H. Lennenberg, ed. New Directives in the Study of Language. MIT Press, 1964. 23-63. MacFarlane, Alan. The Origins of English Individualism: The Family Property and Social Transition Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1978.Mclaren, Ann. “Monogamy, Polygamy and the True State: James I’s Rhetoric of Empire.” History of Political Thought 24 (2004): 446 – 480.McAlindon, T. “Testing the New Historicism: “Invisible Bullets” Reconsidered.” Studies in Philology 92 (1995):411 – 438.Neill, Michael. Putting History to the Question: Power, Politics and Society in English Renaissance Drama. New York: Columbia University Press, 2000.Pocock, J.G.A. Virtue, Commerce and History: Essays on English Political Thought and History, Chiefly in the Eighteenth Century. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985. Puttenham, George. The Arte of English Poesie. Ed. Gladys Doidge Willcock and Alice Walker. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1936.Reekie, Gail. Measuring Immorality: Social Inquiry and the Problem of Illegitimacy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Rowe, Elizabeth, and Erin O’Brien. “Constructions of Asylum Seekers and Refugees in Australian Political Discourse”. In Kelly Richards and Juan Marcellus Tauri, eds., Crime Justice and Social Democracy: Proceedings of the 2nd International Conference. Brisbane: Queensland University of Technology, 2013.Schleiner, Louise. Tudor and Stuart Women Writers. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994.Shakespeare, William. Henry V in The Norton Shakespeare. Ed. S. Greenblatt, W. Cohen, J.E. Howard, and Katharine Eisaman Maus. New York and London: Norton, 2008.

Le nom « alpe » d’origine prélatine, dont le radical alp signifie « montagne », est commun à tout le territoire en question. L’espace physique ainsi dénommé crée une série d’oppositions entre la plaine et la montagne, entre la ville et la montagne et entre les populations intra-alpines, dotées de connaissances spécifiques pour vivre dans cet espace, et les populations demeurant à l’extérieur des Alpes ou les traversant (voir aussi Monde alpin). Redécouvertes à l’époque des Lumières, dans un cadre positiviste, les Alpes deviennent un objet de spéculation philosophique (Rousseau 1761) et d’étude pour les sciences naturelles, notamment la biologie, et la médecine. L’apport de ces disciplines ne manqua pas d’influencer le regard porté par le monde urbain sur les Alpes, à partir de ce moment. En suivant l’exemple du philosophe et naturaliste Horace B. de Saussure (1779-1796), qui explora cette région à la fin du 18e siècle et qui accomplit l’ascension du mont blanc en 1787, un an après la première de Balmat et Paccard, les voyageurs anglais à leur tour découvrirent les Alpes et opposèrent la grandeur de ces paysages au côté misérabiliste des populations rencontrées, dans le cadre d’une sorte d’anthropologie spontanée empreinte d’idéologie, où les locaux sont perçus et décrits comme des survivances de sociétés primitives et donc étrangères à la nature sophistiquée de leurs observateurs. La naissance de l’alpinisme se situe dans ce contexte. En tant que paysage, les Alpes jouent un rôle important à l’âge romantique : Étienne Pivert de Senancour (1804) est le premier écrivain romantique à les avoir parcourues dans un but contemplatif. Objet contradictoire, les Alpes sont souvent peintes en vertu de leur beauté terrifiante. Au fil de voyages initiatiques, de découvertes et de rencontres, la vision romantique s’enrichit jusqu’à acquérir une dimension pédagogique, voire d’édification morale (Töpffer 1844), et nourrit encore en partie les représentations collectives de nos jours. Intégrées dans la société globale, les Alpes exercent un attrait sur le citadin depuis deux siècles. Celui-ci y projette tantôt la nostalgie d’un univers sauvage, tantôt le désir de conquérir et de domestiquer l’espace naturel. Les collections présentes dans quelques grands musées urbains font aussi partie de ce regard que les villes portent sur les Alpes, notamment au cours de la première moitié du 20e siècle. Tel est le cas des objets de la vie quotidienne réunis par Hippolyte Müller, fondateur du Musée Dauphinois, et par les plus de 8000 collectés par Georges Amoudruz, qui ont été acquis par le Musée d’Ethnographie de Genève. Ce n’est que plus récemment que les Alpes sont devenues un objet d’étude pour les géographes (Raoul Blanchard fonde en 1913 la Revue de géographie alpine) : les problématiques sociales, territoriales et environnementales des espaces montagnards sont au centre de ces recherches. Enfin, les anthropologues s’y sont intéressés aussi en privilégiant une approche qui combine l’étique et l’émique (voir Monde alpin). Terres de contrastes, les Alpes échappent à toute catégorisation trop stricte, tantôt appréhendées comme une unité qui efface les spécificités, tantôt comme un ensemble problématique : « un vaste territoire dont l'unité se décompose en un grand nombre de variétés régionales » que le géographe étudie en portant à la lumière « de multiples problèmes relatifs à de multiples pays » (Arbos 1922). Bätzing (2003, 2007) propose un essai de définition des Alpes en montrant la difficulté de la tâche à cause de l’absence de frontières claires, que ce soit sur le plan géographique ou sur le plan humain. Il désigne cette variabilité géographique comme l’origine du problème pour l’éclosion d’une politique alpine. Par exemple, la définition classique des Alpes en tant que massif au-delà de la frontière où poussent les arbres (1900-2200 mètres) est aujourd’hui contestée après la mise en évidence de l’existence de montagnes hautes, très arides et sans glaciers, qui ne rentrent pas dans cette définition. Quant à Fernand Braudel (1966) et Germaine Veyret-Verner (1949), qui introduisent la dimension sociale à travers les études démographiques, définissent les Alpes comme un espace isolé, à l’écart des bouleversements de l’histoire. Ces théories ont été depuis sérieusement remises en question, les archéologues ayant amplement démontré que déjà pendant la préhistoire les Alpes étaient le théâtre de passages et d’échanges. Une deuxième définition, qui est à la base de la loi anthropogéographique des Alpes théorisée par Philippe Arbos (1922), l’un des pères fondateurs de la géographie alpine, et de l’alpwirtschaft de John Frödin (1940), est centrée sur les notions de pente et de verticalité, impliquant une organisation humaine et une modalité d’exploitation de la montagne par étagements successifs où tout est lié dans un système d’interdépendance et de complémentarité. Cette définition est aussi partiellement dépassée : le système traditionnel s’est transformé (sédentarisation des populations, abandon de la montagne, nouvelles installations à cause du tourisme). D’ailleurs, le tourisme, qui semble une constante de l’espace alpin contemporain, n’est pourtant pas présent partout : le tourisme touche moins de 40 % des communes des Alpes (Bätzing 2007). D’autres façons de délimiter les Alpes font référence aux unités géographiques formées par les vallées (ayant chacune son histoire, son évolution et son organisation pour l’exploitation des ressources locales) ou par les groupements de massifs et de sommets (qui revêtent un intérêt notamment pour les alpinistes) : dans le premier cas les frontières passent par les cours d’eau, dans le deuxième par les sommets. Enfin, la division politico-administrative est une autre tentative de définition : les Alpes sont partagées et loties sur la base de subdivisions territoriales qui en ont fait « un facteur de séparation plus ou moins déterminant » (Fourny 2006), à la base de conflits, notamment lorsque les aires culturelles ne recoupent pas les délimitations politiques, ce qui est assez fréquent, étant donné que les unités de peuplement, de langue, de religion, se différencient dans les plaines et les vallées et non sur les lignes de crête. Le signe le plus manifeste en est la langue. En effet, les Alpes sont une vraie mosaïque de groupes linguistiques, ethniques et religieux : des populations de langue provençale du secteur sud-occidental aux populations slaves de l’extrémité orientale. Parfois la variation existe à l’intérieur de la même vallée et remonte au Moyen Âge, par exemple dans les vallées occitanes et francoprovençales du secteur occidental, versant italien. Dans certains cas, elle est la conséquence de mouvements migratoires, tels que l’expansion colonisatrice des Walser, qui en partant de l’Oberland bernois entre le 13e et le 15e siècle se sont implantés dans plus de cent localités alpines sur une région très large qui va de la Savoie au Vorarlberg (Weiss 1959, Zinsli 1976), ou les déplacements des paysans carintiens et bavarois qui occupèrent la partie supérieure de nombreuses vallées des Alpes orientales, italiennes et slovènes. Les situations de contact linguistique dans les Alpes orientales italiennes et slovènes ont fait l’objet d’études anthropologiques de la part de Denison (1968) et de Brudner (1972). Le problème des relations entre milieu physique et organisation sociale est au cœur des études sur les Alpes. Les études de Philippe Arbos (1922) sont une réaction au déterminisme largement partagé jusqu’ici par les différents auteurs et se focalisent sur la capacité humaine d’influencer et de transformer le milieu. Dans ce filon possibiliste s’inscrit aussi Charles Parain (1979). Germaine Veyret-Verner (1949, 1959) introduit la notion d’optimum, à savoir l’équilibre démographique résultant de la régulation numérique de la population et de l’exploitation des ressources locales. Bernard Janin (1968) tente de cerner le processus de transformation économique et démographique dans le Val d’Aoste de l’après-guerre jusqu’aux années 1960, dans un moment perçu comme crucial. D’autres études se sont concentrées sur l’habitat humain, notamment sur l’opposition entre habitats dispersés, typiques des Alpes autrichiennes, bavaroises et suisses (et plus marginalement des Alpes slovènes : Thomas et Vojvoda, 1973) et habitats centralisés, typiques des Alpes françaises et italiennes (Weiss 1959 : 274-296 ; Cole et Wolf 1974). Au lieu de focaliser sur la variabilité interne des phénomènes alpins et sur leurs spécificités culturelles, quelques chercheurs sous la direction de Paul Guichonnet (1980) tentent une approche globale des Alpes, en tant qu’entité unitaire en relation avec d’autres espaces physiques et humains. Cette approche se développe parallèlement à la transition qui s’opère au niveau institutionnel où les Alpes deviennent un objet politique et ne sont plus un assemblage de régions : en effet, avec la Convention alpine (1991), les Alpes acquièrent une centralité en Europe. Plutôt que les confins d’un territoire national, elles sont perçues comme des lieux d’articulation politique, une région de frontières. Dans cette optique, les Alpes sont étudiées sous l’angle des forces extérieures qui les menacent (transport, tourisme, urbanisation, pollution) et qui en font un espace complémentaire de l’urbain et nécessaire à la civilisation des loisirs (Bergier 1996). C’est ainsi que « le territoire montagnard tire sa spécificité non pas d’un “lieu” mais de la complexité de la gestion de ce lieu. » (Gerbaux 1989 : 307) Attentifs au nouvel intérêt que la société porte sur les Alpes, après l’orientation vers les problèmes urbains, les anthropologues étudient la mutation rapide que connaît cet espace. Gérald Berthoud et Mondher Kilani (1984) entreprennent des recherches sur les transformations des Alpes en démontrant comment l’axe tradition-modernité demeure central dans les représentations des Alpes, toutes d’origine urbaine, qui se succèdent au fil des siècles, à tel point que les phénomènes contemporains y sont toujours interprétés en fonction du passé. Kilani (1984) décrit les Alpes comme un puissant lieu d’identification et analyse les effets de la manipulation de cette image figée sur les communautés alpines, que ce soient les images négatives renvoyant à la montagne marginale et arriérée ou les images utopiques de la nature vierge et du berceau de la tradition. La question de l’aménagement des Alpes étant devenue cruciale, en vue de la promotion touristique et de la préservation des milieux naturels, Bernard Crettaz met l’accent sur cette nouvelle représentation des Alpes qui régit l’aménagement contemporain et introduit la notion de disneylandisation (Crettaz 1994). Parallèlement, la floraison de musées du territoire semble être un signal parmi d’autres de cette volonté des populations locales de se libérer des représentations urbaines, qui en ont longtemps affecté le développement en imposant un sens univoque dans la diffusion de la pensée, et de raconter à leur tour les Alpes. Enfin, une réflexion sur l’avenir et le devenir des Alpes s’amorce (Debarbieux 2006), sur la déprise humaine entraînant un ensauvagement généralisé et la reforestation massive, qui est en train de progresser vers le haut, au-delà des limites écologiques, à cause du réchauffement climatique. À cette déprise, s’oppose la densification de l’impact humain le long des grands axes de communication (Debarbieux 2006 : 458), une constante de l’histoire alpine à l’échelle des millénaires, ayant comme conséquence un contraste croissant dans l’accessibilité entre les différentes localités, les villes situées le long des couloirs de circulation devenant toujours plus proches les unes des autres (Tschofen 1999 ; Borsdorf & Paal 2000). Marginalisation progressive ou reconquête de l’espace et de l’héritage?

IntroductionCroquembouche, blast chillers, and plating up—these terms have become normal to ordinary Australians despite Adriano Zumbo’s croquembouche recipe taking more than two hours to complete and blast chillers costing thousands of dollars. Network Ten’s reality talent quest MasterChef Australia (MCA) has brought fine dining and “foodie” culture to a mass audience who have responded enthusiastically. Vicariously “tasting” this once niche lifestyle is empowering viewers to integrate aspects of “foodie” culture into their everyday lives. It helps them become “everyday foodies.” “Everyday foodies” are individuals who embrace and incorporate an appreciation of gourmet food culture into their existing lifestyles, but feel limited by time, money, health, or confidence. So while a croquembouche and blast chiller may be beyond a MCA viewer’s reach, these aspects of “foodie” culture can still be enjoyed via the program. The rise of the “everyday foodie” challenges criticisms of vicarious consumption and negative discourses about reality and lifestyle television. Examining the very different and specific ways in which three MCA-viewing households vicariously experience gourmet food in their adoption of the “everyday foodie” lifestyle will demonstrate the positive value of vicarious consumption through reality and lifestyle programming. A brief background on the MCA phenomenon will be provided before a review of existing literature regarding vicarious consumption and tensions in the reality and lifestyle television field. Three case studies of MCA-viewing households who use vicarious consumption to satisfy “foodie” cravings and broaden their cultural tastes will be presented. Adapted from the United Kingdom’s MasterChef, which has aired since 1990, MCA has proven to be a catalyst for the “cheffing up” of the nation’s food culture. Twenty-odd amateur cooks compete in a series of challenges, guided, and critiqued by judges George Calombaris, Gary Mehigan, and Matt Preston. Contestants are eliminated as they move through a series of challenges, until one cook remains and is crowned the Master Chef of that series. Network Ten’s launch of MCA in 2009 capitalised on the popularity of reality talent quests that grew throughout the 2000s with programs such as Popstars (2000–2002), Australian Idol (2003–2009), X Factor (2005, 2010–) and Australia’s Got Talent (2007–). MCA also captures Australian viewers’ penchant for lifestyle shows including Better Homes and Gardens (1995–), Burke’s Backyard (1987-2004), The Living Room (2012–) and The Block (2003–2004, 2010–). The popularity of these shows, however, does not match the heights of MCA, which has transformed the normal cooking show audience of 200,000 into millions (Greenwood). MCA’s 2010 finale is Australia’s highest rating non-sporting program since OzTAM ratings were introduced in 2001 (Vickery). Anticipating this episode’s popularity, the 2010 Federal Election debate was moved to 6.30pm from its traditional Sunday 7.30pm timeslot (Coorey; Malkin). As well as attracting extensive press coverage and attention in opinion pieces and blogs, the level of academic attention MCA has already received underscores the show’s significance. So far, Lewis (Labours) and Seale have critiqued the involvement of ordinary people as contestants on the show while Phillipov (Communicating, Mastering) explores tensions within the show from a public health angle. While de Solier (TV Dinners, Making the Self, Foodie Makeovers) and Rousseau’s research does not focus on MCA itself, their investigation of Australian foodies and the impact of food media respectively provide relevant discussion about audience relationships with food media and food culture. This article focuses on how audiences use MCA and related programs. Vicarious consumption is presented as a negative practice where the leisure class benefit from another’s productivity (Veblen). Belk presents the simple example that “if our friend lives in an extravagant house or drives an extravagant car, we feel just a bit more extravagant ourselves” (157). Therefore, consuming through another is viewed as a passive activity. In the context of vicariously consuming through MCA, it could be argued that audiences are gaining satisfaction from watching others develop culinary skills and produce gourmet meals. What this article will reveal is that while MCA viewers do gain this satisfaction, they use it in a productive way to discipline their own eating and spending habits, and to allow them to engage with “foodie” culture when it may not otherwise be possible. Rather than embrace the opportunity to understand a new culture or lifestyle, critics of reality and lifestyle television dismiss the empowering qualities of these programs for two reasons. The practice of “advertainment” (Deery 1)—fusing selling and entertainment—puts pressure on, or excludes, the aspirational classes who want, but lack the resources to adopt, the depicted lifestyle (Ouellette and Hay). Furthermore, such programs are criticised for forcing bourgeois consumption habits on its viewers (Lewis, Smart Living) Both arguments have been directed at British celebrity chef Jamie Oliver. Oliver’s latest cookbook Save with Jamie has been criticised as it promotes austerity cooking, but costs £26 (approx. 48AUD) and encourages readers to purchase staple ingredients and equipment that total more than £500 (approx. 919AUD) (Ellis-Petersen). Ellis-Petersen adds that the £500 cost uses the cheapest available options, not Oliver’s line of Tefal cooking equipment, “which come at a hefty premium” (7). In 2005, Oliver’s television series Jamie’s School Dinners, which follows his campaign for policy reform in the provision of food to students was met with resistance. 2008 reports claim students preferred to leave school to buy junk food rather than eat healthier fare at school (Rousseau). Parents supported this, providing money to their children rather than packing healthy lunches that would pass school inspections (Rousseau). Like the framing of vicarious consumption, these criticisms dismiss the potential benefits of engaging with different lifestyles and cultures. These arguments do not recognise audiences as active media consumers who use programs like MCA to enhance their lifestyles through the acquisition of cultural capital. Ouellette and Hay highlight that audiences take advantage of a multitude of viewing strategies. One such strategy is playing the role of “vicarious expert” (Ouellette and Hay 117) who judges participants and has their consumption practices reinforced through the show. While audiences are invited to learn, they can do this from a distance and are not obliged to feel as though they must be educated (Ouellette and Hay). Viewers are simply able to enjoy the fantasy and spectacle of food shows as escapes from everyday routines (Lewis, Smart Living). In cases like Emeril Live where the host and chef, Emeril Lagasse “favors [sic] showmanship over instruction” (Adema 115–116) the vicarious consumption of viewing a cooking show is more satisfying than cooking and eating. Another reason vicarious consumption provides pleasure for audiences is because “culinary television aestheticises food,” transforming it “into a delectable image, a form of ‘gastro-porn’ […] designed to be consumed with the eyes” (de Solier, TV Dinners 467). Audiences take advantage of these viewing strategies, using a balance of actual and vicarious consumption in order to integrate gourmet food culture into their pre-existing lifestyle, budget, and cooking ability. The following case studies emerged from research conducted to understand MCA’s impact on households. After shopping with, and interviewing, seven households, the integration of vicarious and actual food consumption habits was evident across three households. Enjoying food images onscreen or in cookbooks is a suitable substitute when actual consumption is unhealthy, too expensive, time consuming, or daunting. It is this balance between adopting consumption habits of a conventional “foodie” and using vicarious consumption in contexts where the viewer sees actual consumption as unreasonable or uncomfortable that makes the “everyday foodie.” Melanie—Health Melanie is 38 years old and works in the childcare industry. She enjoys the “gastro-porn” of MCA and other food media. Interestingly she says food media actually helps her resist eating sumptuous and rich foods: Yeah, like my house is just overrun by cookbooks, cooking magazines. I have Foxtel primarily for the Food Network […] But I know if I cooked it or baked it, I would eat it and I’ve worked too hard to get where I am physically to do that. So I just, I read about it and I watch it, I just don’t do it. This behaviour supports Boulos et al.’s finding that while the Food Network promotes irresponsible consumption habits, these programs are considered a “window into a wider social and cultural world” rather than food preparation guides (150). Using vicarious consumption in this way means Melanie feels she does not “cook as much as what a true foodie would cook,” but she will “have low fat and healthy [options] whenever I can so I can go out and try all the fancy stuff cooked by fancy people.” MCA and food media for Melanie serves a double purpose in that she uses it to restrict, but also aid in her consumption of gourmet food. In choosing a chef or restaurant for the occasions where Melanie wants to enjoy a “fancy” dining experience, she claims food media serves as an educational resource to influence her consumption of gourmet food: I looked up when I was in Sydney where Adriano Zumbo’s shop was to go and try macarons there […] It [MCA] makes me aware of chefs that I may not have been aware of and I may go and … seek that [their restaurants/establishments] out […] Would Adriano Zumbo be as big as he is without MasterChef? No. And I’m a sucker, I want to go and try, I want to know what everyone’s talking about. Melanie’s attitudes and behaviour with regards to food media and consumption illustrates audiences’ selective nature. MCA and other food media influence her to consume, but also control, her consumption. Curtis and Samantha—Broadening Horizons Time and money is a key concern for many “everyday foodies” including Curtis’ family. Along with his wife Samantha they are raising a one-year-old daughter, Amelia. Curtis expressed a fondness for food that he ate while on holiday in the United States: I guess in the last few weeks I’ve been craving the food that we had when we were in America, in particular stuff like pulled pork, ribs, stuff like that. So I’ve replicated or made our own because you can’t get it anywhere around Brisbane like from a restaurant. When talking about cooking shows more generally, Curtis speaks primarily about cooking shows he watches on Foxtel that have a food tourism angle. Curtis mentions programs including Cheese Slices, The Layover and Man v. Food. The latter of these shows follows Adam Richman around the United States attempting to conquer eating challenges set at famous local establishments. Curtis describes his reaction to the program: I say woah that looks good and then I just want to go back to America. But instead of paying thousands of dollars to go, it’s cheaper to look up a recipe and give it a go at home. Cookbooks and food television provide their viewers not only with a window through which they can escape their everyday routines but, as Curtis points out, inspiration or education to cook new dishes themselves. For money conscious “everyday foodies”, the cooking demonstration or mere introduction of a dish broadens viewers’ culinary knowledge. Curtis highlights the importance of this: Otherwise [without food media] you’d be stuck cooking the same things your mum and dad taught you, or your home economics teacher taught you in high school. You’d just be doing the same thing every day. Unless you went out to a restaurant and fell in love with something, but because you don’t go out to restaurants every day, you wouldn’t have that experience every day […] TV gives you the ability—we could flick over to the food channel right now and watch something completely amazing that we’ve never done before. His wife Samantha does not consider herself an adventurous eater. While she is interested in food, her passion lies in cakes and desserts and she jokes that ordering Nando’s with the medium basting is adventurous for her. Vicarious consumption through food media allows Samantha to experience a wider range of cuisines without consuming these foods herself: I would watch a lot more variety than I would actually try. There’s a lot of things that I would happily watch, but if it was put in front of me I probably wouldn’t eat it. Like with MasterChef, I’m quite interested in cooking and stuff, but the range of things [ingredients and cuisines] […] I wouldn’t go there. Rose and Andrew—Set in Their Ways Rose and her husband Andrew are a “basically retired” couple and the parents of Samantha. While they both enjoy MCA and feel it has given them a new insight on food, they find it easier to have a mediated engagement with gourmet food in some instances. Andrew believes MCA is: Taking food out of this sort of very conservative, meat, and three vegetables thing into […] something that is more exotic, for the want of a better word. And I guess that’s where we’ve—we follow it, I follow it. And saying, ‘Oh, geez it’d be nice to do that or to be able to do that,’ and enjoy a bit of creativity in that, but I think it’s just we’re probably pretty set in our ways probably and it’s a bit hard to put that into action sometimes. Andrew goes on to suggest that a generational gap makes their daughters, Samantha and Elle more likely to cook MCA-inspired meals than they are: See Samantha and Elle probably cook with that sort of thing [herbs] more and I always enjoy when they do it, but we probably don’t […] We don’t think about it when we go shopping. We probably shop and buy the basic things and don’t think about the nicer things. Andrew describes himself as “an extremely lazy reader” who finds following a recipe “boring.” Andrew says if he were tempted to cook an MCA-inspired dish, it is unlikely that the required ingredients would be on-hand and that he would not shop for one meal. Rose says she does buy the herbs, or “nicer things” as Andrew refers to them, but is hesitant to use them. She says the primary barrier is lacking confidence in her cooking ability, but also that she finds cooking tiring and is not used to cooking with the gas stove in her new home: Rose: I also think that I probably leave my run late and by night time I’m really tired and my feet are hurting and I tend to think ‘Oh I’ll just get something ready’ […] I know that probably sounds like a lame excuse, but yeah, it’s probably more the confidence thing I think. I often even buy the things [ingredients] to do it and then don’t make it. I’m not confident with my stovetop either. Researcher: Oh why—can you please explain more about that?Rose: Well it’s a gas stovetop and I used to have the electric. I felt like I could main—I could control the setting—the heat—better on it. Rose, in particular, does not let her lack of confidence and time stop her from engaging with gourmet food. Cookbooks and cooking shows like MCA are a valuable channel for her to appreciate “foodie” culture. Rose talks about her interest in MCA: Rose: I’m not a keen cook, but I do enjoy buying recipe books and looking at lovely food and watching—and I enjoyed watching how they did these beautiful dishes. As for the desserts, yes they probably were very fancy, but it was sort of nice to think if you had a really special occasion, you know […] and I would actually get on the computer afterwards and look for some of the recipes. I did subscribe to their magazine […] because I’m a bit of a magazine junkie.Researcher: What do you get out of the recipe books and magazines if you say you’re not a keen cook?Rose: I’d just dream about cooking them probably. That sounds terrible, doesn’t it? But, and also probably inspire my daughters […] I like to show them “oh, look at this and this” or, you know, and probably quite often they will try it or—and one day I think I will try it, but whether I ever do or not, I don’t know. Rose’s response also treats the generation gap as a perceived barrier to actual consumption. But while the couple feel unable to use the knowledge they have gained through MCA in their kitchen, they credit the show with broadening the range of cuisines they would eat when dining out: Andrew: You know, even when we’ve been to—I like Asian food in Australia, you know, Chinese, Thai, any of those sorts of foods.Rose: Indian. Andrew: Indian, yeah I like that in Australia.Rose: Which we have probably tried more of since the likes of MasterChef.Andrew: Yeah.Rose: You know, you—and even sushi, like you would never have ever […]Andrew: Gone to sushi previously. And I won’t eat sashimi, but the sushi bar is all right. Um […] but [I] did not enjoy Chinese food in places like Hong Kong or Singapore. As the couple does not seek educational information from the show in terms of cooking demonstration, they appear more invested in the progress of the contestants of the show and how they respond to challenges set by the judges. The involvement of amateur cooks makes the show relatable as they identify with contestants who they see as potential extensions of themselves. Rose identifies with season one winner, Julie Goodwin who entered the program as a 38-year-old mother of three and owner of an IT consulting business: Rose: Well Julie of course is a—I don’t like to use the word square, but she’s sort of like a bit of an old fashioned lady, but you know, more like basic grandma cooking. But […]Andrew: She did it well though.Rose: Yes, yeah. Andrew: And she, she probably—she progressed dramatically, you know, from the comments from when she first started […] to winning. In how she presented, how she did things. She must have learnt a lot in the process is the way I would look at it anyway. Rose: And I’ve seen her sort of on things since then and she is very good at like […] talking about and telling you what she’s doing and—for basic sort of cook—you know what I mean, not basic, but […] for a basic person like me. Although Rose and Andrew feel that their life stage prevents has them from changing long established consumption habits in relation to food, their choices while dining out coupled with a keen interest in food and food media still exemplifies the “everyday foodie” lifestyle. Programs like MCA, especially with its focus on the development of amateur cooks, have allowed Rose and Andrew to experience gourmet food more than they would have otherwise. Conclusion Each viewer is empowered to live their version of the “everyday foodie” lifestyle through adopting a balance of actual and vicarious consumption practices. Vicariously tasting “foodie” culture has broadened these viewers’ culinary knowledge and to some extent has broadened their actual tastes. This is evident in Melanie’s visit to Adriano Zumbo’s patisserie, and Rose and Andrew’s sampling of various Asian cuisines while dining out, for example. It also provides pleasure in lieu of actual consumption in instances like Melanie using food images as a disciplinary mechanism or Curtis watching Man v. Food instead of travelling overseas. The attitudes and behaviours of these MCA viewers illustrate that vicarious consumption through food media is a productive and empowering practice that aids audiences to adopt an “everyday foodie” lifestyle. References Adema, Pauline. “Vicarious Consumption: Food, Television and the Ambiguity of Modernity.” Journal of American and Comparative Cultures 23.3 (2000): 113–23. Belk, Russell. “Possessions and the Extended Self.” Journal of Consumer Research 15.2 (1988): 139–68. Boulous, Rebecca, Emily Kuross Vikre, Sophie Oppenheimer, Hannah Chang, and Robin B. Kanarek. “ObesiTV: How Television is influencing the Obesity Epidemic.” Physiology & Behavior 107.1 (2012): 146–53. Coorey, Phillip. “Chefs Win in Ratings Boilover.” Sydney Morning Herald 20 Jul. 2010: n. pag. Deery, June. “Reality TV as Advertainment.” Popular Communication: The International Journal of Media and Culture 2.1 (2005): 1–20. Ellis-Petersen, Hannah. “Jamie’s Idea of Cooking on a Budget—First Buy £500 of Kitchen Utensils and ‘Basics’ (And Yes Most Of Them DO Come From His Own Range).” Mail Online 31 Aug. 2013: n. pag. Greenwood, Helen. “From TV to Table.” Sydney Morning Herald 3 Jul. 2010: n. pag. Lewis, Tania. Smart Living: Lifestyle Media and Popular Expertise. New York: Peter Lang, 2008. -----. “You’ve Put Yourselves on a Plate: The Labours of Selfhood on MasterChef Australia.” Reality Television and Class. Eds. Helen Wood, and Beverly Skeggs. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011. 104–6. Malkin, Bonnie. “Australian Election Debate Makes Way for MasterChef Final.” The Telegraph 20 Jul. 2010: n. pag. Ouellette, Laurie, and James Hay. Better Living through Reality TV. Malden: Blackwell, 2008. Phillipov, Michelle. “Communicating Health Risks via the Media: What can we learn from MasterChef Australia?” The Australasian Medical Journal 5.11 (2012): 593–7. -----. “Mastering Obesity: MasterChef Australia and the Resistance to Public Health Nutrition.” Media, Culture & Society 35.4 (2013): 506–15. Rousseau, Signe. Food Media: Celebrity Chefs and the Politics of Everyday Interference. London: Berg, 2012. Seale, Kirsten. “MasterChef’s Amateur Makeovers.” Media International Australia 143 (2012): 28–35. de Solier, Isabelle. “Foodie Makeovers: Public Service Television and Lifestyle Guidance.” Exposing Lifestyle Television: The Big Reveal. Ed. Gareth Palmer. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008. 65–81. -----. “Making the Self in a Material World: Food and Moralities of Consumption.” Cultural Studies Review 19.1 (2013): 9–27. -----. “TV Dinners: Culinary Television, Education and Distinction.” Continuum: Journal of Media and Cultural Studies 19.4 (2005): 465–81. Vickery, Colin. “Adam Liaw Wins MasterChef as Ratings Soar for Channel 10.” Herald Sun 25 Jul. 2010: n. pag. Veblen, Thorstein. The Theory of the Leisure Class. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2007.

IntroductionThe existential question today is not whether to be or not to be, but how one can become what one truly is. (Golomb 200)In contemporary Western culture the ideal of living authentically, of being “true to yourself,” is ubiquitous. Authenticity is “taken for granted” as an absolute value in a multitude of areas, from music, to travel to identity (Lindholm 1). A core component of authentic selfhood is to find an occupation that is a “passion:” work that is “really you.” This article draws on recent qualitative interviews with Australians from a range of occupations about work, identity and meaning (James). It will demonstrate that for these contemporary individuals, occupation is often closely linked to perceptions of authentic selfhood. I begin by overviewing the significance and presence of authenticity as a value in contemporary culture through discussions of reality television and self-help literature focussed on careers. This is followed by a discussion of sociological theories of authenticity, drawing out the connections between the authentic self, modernity and work. The final section uses examples from the interviews to argue that the ideal of work being an extension of the authentic self is compelling because in providing direction and purpose, it helps the individual avoid anomie, disenchantment and other modern malaises (Taylor).The Authentic Self and Career Guidance in Contemporary Popular CultureThe prevalence of authenticity in contemporary Western popular culture can be seen in reality television programs like Master Chef (a cooking competition) and The Voice (a singing competition). Generally, contestants take part in the show in order to “follow their dreams” and pursue the career they feel they were “destined” for. When elimination is immanent, those at risk of departure are given one last chance to tell the judges what being in the competition means to them. This usually takes the form of a tearful monologue in which the contestant explains that the past few weeks have been the best of their life, that they finally feel “alive” and that they have found their “passion.” In these shows, finding work that is “really you”—that is an extension of your authentic-self—is portrayed as being a fundamental component of fulfillment and self-actualization.The same message is delivered in self-help media and texts. Since the 1970s, “finding your passion” and “finding yourself” have been popular subjects for the genre. The best known of these books is perhaps Richard Bolles’s What Color is Your Parachute?: a job-hunting manual aimed primarily at people looking for a career change. First published in 1970, a new edition has been released every year and there are over 10 million copies in print. In 1995 it was included in the Library of Congress’s Center for the Book’s 25 Books That Have Shaped Readers’ Lives, placing Bolles in the company of Cervantes and Tolstoy (Bolles).Bolles’s book and similar career guidance titles generally follow a pattern of providing exercises for the reader to help them discover the “real you,” which then becomes the basis for choosing the “right” occupation, or as Bolles puts it, “first deciding who you are before deciding the kind of work you want to pursue.” Another best-selling self-help writer is Phil McGraw or “Dr. Phil,” better known for his television program than his books. In his Self Matters—Creating Your Life from the Inside Out, McGraw begins bytelling the story of his own search for his authentic “passion.” Before moving into television, McGraw spent ten years working as a practicing psychiatrist. He recalls:So much of what I did—while totally okay if it had been what I had a passion for—was as unnatural for me as it would be for a dog. It didn’t come from the heart. It wasn’t something that sprang from who I really was ... I wasn’t doing what was meaningful for me. I wasn’t doing what I was good at and therefore was not pursuing my mission in life, my purpose for being here … You and everyone else has a mission, a purpose in life that cannot be denied if you are to live fully. If you have no purpose, you have no passion. If you have no passion, you have sold yourself out (7–12).McGraw connects living authentically with living meaningfully. Working in an occupation that is in accordance with the authentic self gives one’s life purpose. This is the same message Oprah Winfrey chose to deliver in the final episode of the The Oprah Winfrey Show, which was watched by more than 16 million viewers in the U.S. alone. Rather than following the usual pattern of the show and interview celebrity guests, Winfrey chose to talk directly to her viewers about what matters in life:Everybody has a calling, and your real job in life is to figure out what that is and get about the business of doing it. Every time we have seen a person on this stage who is a success in their life, they spoke of the job, and they spoke of the juice that they receive from doing what they knew they were meant to be doing [...] Because that is what a calling is. It lights you up and it lets you know that you are exactly where you're supposed to be, doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing. And that is what I want for all of you and hope that you will take from this show. To live from the heart of yourself.Like McGraw, Winfrey draws a link between living authentically—living “from the heart”—and finding a “calling.” The message here is that the person whose career is in accordance with their authentic self can live with certainty, direction and purpose. Authenticity may act as a buffer against the anomie and disenchantment that arguably plague individuals in late modernity (Elliott & du Gay).Disenchantment, Modernity and Authenticity For many sociologists, most famously Max Weber, finding something that gives life purpose is the great challenge for individuals in the modern West. In a disenchanted society, without religion or other “mysterious incalculable forces” to provide direction, individuals may struggle to work out what they should do with their lives (149). For Weber the answer is to find your calling. Each individual must discover the “demon who holds the fibers of his very life” and obey its demands (156).Following Weber, John Carroll has argued that in modern secular societies, individuals must draw on their inner resources to find answers to life’s “fundamental questions” (Ego 3–4). As Carroll stresses, it is not that the religious impulse has disappeared from contemporary society, but it is expressed in new ways. Individuals still yearn for a sense of purpose but they are “more likely to pursue their quests for meaning on their own, in experimental ways and with their main resource being their ontological qualities” (Carroll, Beauty 221).Other Australian academics, like Gary Bouma and David Tacey, argue that rather than a decline in religiosity in Australia, what we are seeing is a change in the way people pursue the spiritual. Tacey suggests that while many Australians may “slink away” from the idea of God as something external to our lives, they may find more resonance with a conception of God as a “core dimension” of the person (167). Contemporary Australians continue to yearn for guidance, but they are more likely to look within to find it.There is a clear link between this process of turning inward to pursue the spiritual, the prevalence of authenticity in contemporary Western culture, and modernity. With the breakdown of traditional structures, individuals become more “free to self-create” (Bauman, Identity 3). As Charles Lindholm describes it: “The inclination toward a spontaneous mode of expressive self-revelation correlates with the collapse of reliable and sacralised institutional frameworks that once offered meaning and succour” (65–66).For Charles Taylor, the origins of this “massive subjective turn of modern culture” (26) lie in the 18th-century romantic period with the idea that each individual has an intuitive moral sense. To determine what is right, the individual must be in touch with their “inner voice” and act in accordance with it. It is in this notion that Taylor identifies the background to the belief, which is so prominent today, that “There is a certain way of being human that is my way. I am called upon to live my life in this way, and not in imitation of anyone else’s” (28–29). Lindholm points to Rousseau as the “inventor” of this ideal, with his revelatory Confessions becoming “the harbinger of a new ideal in which exploring and revealing one’s essential nature was taken as an absolute good” (8). According to Rousseau, social norms suppress the individual’s true nature, and so it is only possible for one to be authentic if they break these chains and act in accordance with their inner depths. For employees in today’s service-oriented knowledge economy, there are significant risks involved in following Rousseau’s advice and expressing one’s “true feelings.” As many researchers have noted, in the new capitalism, workers are increasingly required to regulate their emotions and present themselves as calm, agreeable and above all positive (Hochschild; Sennett; Ehrenreich). To offer criticism or express frustration, to drop the “mask of cooperativeness” (Sennett 112), may mean risking one’s employment.Nevertheless, while it is arguably becoming more difficult to express authentic feeling at work, for contemporary workers, choice of occupation is still often closely linked to perceptions of authentic selfhood. In fact, in a time of increasingly fragmented careers and short-term, episodic work, it becomes more necessary to create a meaningful narrative to link numerous and varied jobs to a core sense of self. As Richard Sennett argues, today’s flexible employees—frequently moving from one workplace to the next—are at risk of “drift:” a sensation of aimless movement (30). To counter this, individuals must create a convincing story that provides a rationale for career changes and can thereby “form their characters into sustained narratives” (31).In the next section, drawing on recent empirical research, I argue that linking authentic selfhood to work provides individuals with a way to make sense of the trajectory of their work lives and to accept change. Today’s employees are able to interpret even the most unexpected career changes as a beneficial occurrence—something that was “meant to be”—by rationalising that such changes are part of a process of finding work that is an expression of the authentic self.The Authentic Self at Work: Being True to Your EssenceThe following discussion focuses on how authenticity as an ideal influences individuals’s work identity and career aspirations. It draws examples from recent qualitative interviews with Australian workers from a range of occupations (James 2012). A number of interviewees described a search for an occupation that was authentically “them,” a task that was well-suited to their capabilities and came “naturally:”I have a feeling that I was sort of a natural teacher. (Teacher, 60)Medical is what I like, that’s me. (Paramedic, 49)I found my thing, I stick to it. (Farrier, 27) These beliefs are quite clearly influenced by the idea of vocation, in that there is a particular task the individual is most suited to, but they do not invoke the sense of duty that a religious “calling” entails. Often, the interviewees had discovered the occupation that was “really them” by working in other jobs that were not their “true passion.” Realising that performing a particular role felt inauthentic helped them to define their authentic self and encouraged them to pursue more fulfilling work. This process often required experimentation, since “one knows what one is only after realising what one is not” (Golomb 201).For instance, Olivia, a 33-year old lawyer had begun her career in a corporate law firm. She had never felt comfortable in the corporate environment: “I always thought, ‘They know I don’t belong here’.” Her performance at work felt inauthentic: “I was never good at smiling and saying yes.” This experience led her to move into human rights, which she found more fulfilling. Similarly Hazel, a 50 year-old social worker, had started her career in what she described as “boring administration jobs.” Although she had “always wanted” to work in the “caring sector” her family’s expectations and her low self-confidence had stopped her from applying for university. When she finally quit the administration work and began to study it was liberating: “a weight had come out off my shoulders.” In her occupation as a social worker she felt that her work fitted with her authentic self: “the kind of person I am,” and for the first time in her life she looked forward to going to work. Both of these women, and many of the other interviewees, rationalised their decision to work in a particular field by appealing to narratives of authentic selfhood.Similarly, in explaining why they enjoyed their work, a number of interviewees looked back to their childhood for signs of what was “meant to be.” For instance, Tim, a 27 year-old farrier, justified his work with horses: “Mum came from a farming background, every school holidays I was up there…I followed my grandpa around like a little dog, annoyed and pestered him and asked him ‘Why’ and How?’ I’ve always been like that … So I think from an early age I was destined to do something like this.” Ken, a 50 year-old electrician, had a similar explanation for his choice of occupation: “Even as a little kid I was always mucking around with batteries and getting lights to work and things like that, so I think it was just a natural progression.”This tendency to associate childhood interests with authentic selfhood is perhaps due to the belief that childhood is a time of innocence and freedom, where the individual had not yet been moulded by society. As Duschinsky argues, childhood is often connected with an “originary natural essence.” We are close here to Rousseau’s “sentiment of being,” or its contemporary manifestation the “real you.” Of course, the idea that the child is free from external influence is problematised by ideas of socialisation. From birth the infant learns by copying “significant others” and self-conception is formed through interaction (Cooley; Mead). Therefore, from the very beginning, an individual’s interests, dispositions and tastes are influenced by family and culture.Shane, a 29 year-old real estate agent, had resisted working in property because it was the family business and he “didn’t want to be as boring as to follow in Dad’s footsteps.” He saw himself as “academic” and “creative” and for a number of years worked as a writer. Eventually though he decided that writing was not his calling: it was “not actually me … I categorise myself as someone who has the ability to write but not naturally.” When Shane began working in real-estate however, it felt almost automatic. Like the other members of his family he had the right skills and traits to thrive in the business and was immediately successful. Interestingly, Shane’s conception of his authenticity includes both a belief in an essential, pre-social “true” self and at the same time an understanding of the importance of the influence of family in the formation of the self.Regardless of whether the idea of a natural, inner-essence discernable in childhood pastimes can be disproven, it is clear that the understanding of authentic selfhood as an “immediate expression of our essence” continues to influence how individuals conceive of their work identities. However, at the same time, the interviewees’ accounts of authenticity also acknowledged the role of parents in influencing traits and dispositions. In these narratives of the self, authenticity encompasses opposing understandings of childhood as being both free from social influences and highly influenced by primary agents of socialisation. That individuals are willing to do the necessary mental and emotional work to maintain these contradictory beliefs suggests that there is a strong incentive to frame work identity as an expression of authentic selfhood.Authenticity Provides PurposeThe great benefit of being able to convincingly rationalise one’s work as a manifestation of the true self is that it gives the individual direction and purpose. Work then provides answers to Carroll’s fundamental questions: “who am I?” and “What should I do with my life?” A number of the interviewees recalled their attempts to secure a sense of purpose by linking their current occupation to their inner essence. As Greg, a 36-year-old fitness consultant described it:You just gotta think ‘What do you really wanna do, what makes you happy, what are you about?’ … I guess the strengthening and conditioning work, the fitness, has been the constant right the way through. It’s probably the core of what I’ve done over the years, seeing individuals and teams get fit. It’s what I do. That’s my role, if you put it in a nutshell. That’s what I’m about … I was sort of floating around a little bit … I need to go ‘This is what I am.’ By identifying his authentic self and linking it to his work, Greg was able to make sense of his past. He had once been a professional runner and after an injury was forced to redefine himself. He now rationalised that his ability to run had led him into the fitness field: You look at what is your life mission and basically what are you out here for … with athletics it’s allowed me to deal with any sport, made me flexible in my career … if I was, therefore born to run? Yeah, quite possibly, there had to be a reason. Like many of the interviewees, Greg had been forced to change his plans, but he was able to rationalise that this change was positive by forming a narrative that connected both his current and previous occupations to his perception of his authentic self. As Sennett describes it, he is able to from his character into a “sustained narrative” (31). Similarly, Trish, a 42 year-old retail coordinator, connected both her work as a chef and her job in a hardware store back to her sense of authentic self. Both occupations, she thought, were “down and dirty” and she linked this to her family “roots” and her identity as a “country girl.” In interpreting these two substantially different occupations as an expression of her true self, Trish is able to create a narrative in which unexpected career changes are as seen as something beneficial that was “meant to be.” These accounts of career trajectories suggest that linking authenticity to work identity is a strategy individuals employ to cope with the disorienting effects of fragmented work lives. Even jobs that are unfulfilling and feel inauthentic can be made meaningful by interpreting them as necessary steps leading towards the discovery of one’s “ true passion”. This is quite different to the ideal of a life-long calling in one occupation, which as Bauman has noted, has become a “privilege of the few” in late-modernity (Work 34). In an era of insecure and fragmented work, the narrative of an authentic self becomes particularly appealing as it allows the individual to create a meaningful work-narrative that can accommodate the numerous twists and turns of contemporary “liquid” existence (Bauman, Identity 5) and avoid “drift” (Sennett). Conclusion Drawing on qualitative research, this paper has analysed the connections between authenticity, work and modern selfhood. I have shown that in an era of flexible and fragmented working lives, work-identities are often closely tied to understandings of authentic selfhood. Interpreting particular kinds of work as being expressions of the authentic self provides individuals with a sense of purpose and in some cases assists them in coming to terms with unexpected career changes. A meaningful career narrative acts as a buffer against disorientation, disenchantment and anomie. It is therefore no wonder that authentic selfhood is such a prominent theme in reality television, self-help and other forms of popular culture, since it is taps into an existential need for a sense of purpose that becomes increasingly elusive in late-modernity. It is clear from the accounts presented in this paper that the pursuit of authenticity is not merely a narcissistic endeavor, and is employed by individuals to work through fundamental existential questions. Future work in this area should continue to make use of empirical research to add depth and complexity to theoretical accounts of authentic selfhood. References Bauman, Zygmunt. “Identity in the Globalizing World.” Identity in Question. Ed. Anthony Elliott and Paul du Gay. London: Sage, 2009. 1–12. Bauman, Zygmunt. Work, Consumerism and the New Poor. Buckingham: Open UP, 1998. Bolles, Richard. What Colour Is Your Parachute 2015. 23 Jan. 2015 ‹http://www.jobhuntersbible.com/books/view/what-color-is-your-parachute-2015›. Bolles, Richard. What Colour Is Your Parachute. Berkley: Ten Speed, 1970. Bouma, Gary. Australian Soul: Religion and Spirituality in the 21st Century. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2006. Carroll, John. “Beauty contra God: Has Aesthetics Replaced Religion in Modernity?” Journal of Sociology 48.2 (2012): 206–23. Carroll, John. Ego and Soul: The Modern West in Search of Meaning. Melbourne: Scribe, 2008. Cooley, Charles Horton. Human Nature and the Social Order. New York: Scribner’s, 1902. Duschinsky, Robbie. “Childhood Innocence: Essence, Education, and Performativity.” Textual Practice 27.5 (2013): 763–81. Elliott, Anthony, and Paul du Gay. “Editors’ Introduction.” Identity in Question. Eds. Anthony Elliott and Paul du Gay. London: Sage, 2009. xi–xxi. Ehrenreich, Barbara. Bright-Sided : How the Relentless Promotion of Positive Thinking Has Undermined America. New York: Henry Holt, 2009. Golomb, Jacob. In Search of Authenticity: From Kierkegaard to Camus. London: Routledge, 1995. Hochschild, Arlie Russell. The Managed Heart: Commercialization Human Feeling. Berkeley: U of California P, 1983. James, Sara. “Making a Living, Making a Life: Contemporary Narratives of Work, Vocation and Meaning.” PhD Thesis. La Trobe U, 2012. Lindholm, Charles. Culture and Authenticity. Malden: Blackwell, 2008. McGraw, Phil. Self Matters—Creating Your Life from the Inside Out. London: Simon and Schuster, 2001. Mead, George Herbert. Mind, Self and Society. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1934. Sennett, Richard. The Corrosion of Character: The Personal Consequences of Work in the New Capitalism, New York: WW Norton, 1998. Tacey, David. Edge of the Sacred: Jung, Psyche, Earth. Sydney: Daimon, 2008. Taylor, Charles. Ethics of Authenticity. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1991. Weber, Max. “Science as a Vocation.” From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology. Ed. Hans Heinrich Gerth and Charles Wright Mills. London: Routledge, 1991. 129–56. Winfrey, Oprah. The Oprah Winfrey Show Finale. 23 Jan. 2015 ‹http://www.oprah.com/oprahshow/The-Oprah-Winfrey-Show-Finale_1#ixzz3PbhBrdBs›.

In 1996, the iconoclastic economist John Kenneth Galbraith wrote a manifesto, The Good Society, that elaborated his vision for what societal excellence and goodness should amount to. Though nearly 96, Galbraith was still a rabble-rouser, and he castigated the powers that be in the United States for propping up a “democracy of the fortunate” (8). To Galbraith, those who engaged in electoral politics, win or lose on any specific issue, tended to have all the social and economic advantages, while the less well off were deliberately marginalised by ‘the system.’ He lamented that “money, voice and political activism are now extensively controlled by the affluent, very affluent, and business interests" (140), making of the political sphere an "unequal contest" (8).To make democracy American style more inclusive, Galbraith called for “a coalition of the concerned and the compassionate and those now outside the political system” (143), so that all citizens had optimal prospects for enjoying “personal liberty, basic well-being, social and ethnic equality, the opportunity for a rewarding life" (4). Have inroads been made, in the nearly 15 years since first publication of The Good Society, in making come true Galbraith’s version of a good society? If not, how might such a coalition be achieved? What would it look like? Who among Americans would constitute the concerned, compassionate outsiders that would make such a coalition authentically ‘Galbraithian’? A Coalition on the MoveWhat about MoveOn.org? A progressive public advocacy group founded in 1998, MoveOn.org, according to Lelia Green in The Internet, is “an important indicator of the potential for bringing together communities of like-minded individuals” (139). Green singles out MoveOn.org as particularly pivotal in galvanising support for Barack Obama’s presidency (139). The New York Times describes MoveOn.org as “a bottom-up organization that has inserted itself into the political process in ways large and small” (Janofsky and Lee). Indeed, it represents “the next evolutionary change in American politics, a move away from one-way tools of influence like television commercials and talk radio to interactive dialogue, offering everyday people a voice in a process that once seemed beyond their reach.” MoveOn.org has expertly utilised the Internet to mobilise its members “to sign online petitions, organize street demonstrations and donate money to run political advertisements”. Green considers MoveOn.org one of today’s standout “coalitions of interests and political agendas”, “extraordinary” in its ability to “use websites and email lists to build communities around a shared passion” (139). In 2008, its 4.2 million members were at the vortex of a “dynamic that tipped the balance in favour of a more radical agenda with the election of President Barack Obama in 2008” (139). Galbraith, for one, would certainly agree with MoveOn.org’s politics, and likely would claim that their radical agenda is a compassionate and encompassing one that effectively addresses the concerns of everyday citizens. Yet the fact is that millions of disaffected Americans are not liberals, and so are not in sync with MoveOn.org’s interests and agendas, such as its firm insistence that a ‘public option’ is the best way to bring about meaningful health care reform, and its demand that all U.S. troops be immediately withdrawn from Iraq and Afghanistan. Tea Anyone?Another sort of coalition filled the void created by MoveOn.org. Enter the Tea Party. A movement that has been every bit as effective in its way in inspiring once-jaded ordinary citizens to coalesce around a set of interests and agendas – albeit, at least in principal if not necessarily in actual practice, of a professed libertarian strain – the Tea Party got underway in the waning days of the second presidential term of George W. Bush. It started out as a one-issue protest group voicing umbrage over the proposed economic stimulus plan, which it considered an unconstitutional subsidy. After Barack Obama became president, the Tea Party burgeoned into a much more influential movement that now professes to be a grassroots citizens’ watchdog for all unconstitutional activities (or what it deems to be such) on the part of the federal government. A New York Times article notes that many of its members are victims of the economic downturn; they “had lost their jobs, or perhaps watched their homes plummet in value, and they found common cause in the Tea Party’s fight for lower taxes and smaller government” (Zernike). Its members are akin to the millions of middle class Americans who lost their livelihoods during the Great Depression of the 1930s, an unparalleled economic downturn that eventually “mobilized many middle-class people who had fallen on hard times” to join forces in order to have an effective political voice. But those during the Great Depression who were aroused to political consciousness “tended to push for more government involvement”; in contrast, the Tea Party is a coalition that “vehemently wants less”. While Galbraith depicted the Republican Party of his time as “avowedly on the side of the fortunate” (141), the majority of today’s Tea Party members align themselves with the Republican Party, yet they are by no means principally made up of "the fortunate." Erick Erickson, a prominent Tea Party spokesman and a television commentator for the CNN news channel, blogs on Redstate.com that the Tea Party “has gotten a lot of people off the sidelines and into the political arena...” Erickson further contends that the Tea Party has “brought together a lot of likeminded citizens who thought they were alone in the world. They realized that not only were they not alone, but there were millions of others just as concerned.” Galbraithian Coalitions?Do MoveOn.org and Tea Party constitute Galbraithian-type coalitions, each in its own right? Both have inspired millions of once-disenchanted common citizens to come together around common political concerns and become a force to be reckoned with in electoral politics. As such, each has served as an effective counterweight against the money, voice and political activism of the very affluent. While Galbraith would probably have as much disdain for the Tea Party as he would have praise for MoveOn.org, the fact is that both groups have seen to it that an increasing number of regular Americans whose concerns had been ignored in the political arena now have to be reckoned with. But this is by no means where their commonality ends. Above and beyond the fact that both are comprised of millions who had been political outsiders, each has a decided anti-establishmentarian strain, along with a professed sense of alienation from and disdain for "politics as usual" and an impassioned belief in the right to self-government (though they differ on what this right amounts to). Moreover, both consider themselves grassroots-driven, and harbor anathema for professional lobbying organisations, which both regularly criticize for their undue political influence. Even though the two groups usually differ to the nth degree when it comes to those solutions they believe would effectively remedy the most pressing public problems in the U.S., they nonetheless share the conviction that one must initially focus one’s efforts at the local level if one is eventually to have the greatest impact on political decision-making on a national scale. The two groups came of age during the Internet revolution – indeed, it would have been impossible for their like-minded members to have found one another and coalesced so quickly and in such great numbers without the Internet – and they utilise the Internet as the principal tool for spurring concerted activism at the local level among their members. One can consider their shared approach Deweyan, in that Dewey maintained that genuinely democratic community, “in its deepest and richest sense, must always remain a matter of face-to-face intercourse” (367). Yet the two groups’ legion differences prevent them from engaging in meaningful face-to-face exchanges with one another. While the prospect of cultivating linkages between Tea Party and MoveOn.org are remote for the foreseeable future, it might nonetheless be seen as a promising development that some rank and file Tea Party acolytes do at least recognise that they must not identify solely with the Republican Party, lest they discourage potential recruits from rallying around their cause. For instance, one warns fellow members on the Redstate.com blog to be wary of casting their lot with Republicans, “because it would drive away the Democrats and Independents”. He actually uses Galbraith’s coinage in describing the Tea Party: “This movement is a coalition of the concerned, not a Republican outreach program.” Indeed, contrary to popular belief, the Tea Party is not, as a whole, on the conservative fringe (though it does often seem that those members who are given the most attention by the mainstream media are the fringe element, particularly the breakaway Tea Party Express). A Gallup Poll reveals that fully 17 percent of all Americans of voting age identify themselves as affiliated with the Tea Party; and while a majority have Republican leanings, fully 45 percent of all Tea Party members claimed they were either Democrats (17 percent) or independents (28 percent). To Tea Party leader Erick Erickson, the paramount challenge today for the Tea Party is for it to transform itself into a greater umbrella coalition, since the “issues and advocacy within the tea party movement are issues that resonate with the majority of Americans.” After all, he asserts, the Tea Party’s is “a very American cause — the first amendment right to protest, petition, and speak up.” While an expansion of its coalition does not in any way make it incumbent for the Tea Party to find common cause with MoveOn.org, can the claim nonetheless be legitimately made – utilising Erickson’s own criteria – that MoveOn.org’s is equally a very American cause? Christopher Hayes points out in an essay in The Nation that most of MoveOn.org’s members, as with the Tea Party’s, are “not inclined to protest,” but their “rising unease with the direction of the country has led to a new political consciousness.” Hayes could just as well be speaking of the Tea Party when he describes MoveOn.org’s members as made up mostly of “citizens angered, upset and disappointed with their government but [who were] unsure how to channel those sentiments.” For such citizens, MoveOn.org “provides simple, discrete actions: sign this petition, donate money to run this ad, show up at this vigil.” This is convincing evidence that MoveOn.org’s is also “a very American cause”, by the very benchmarks set forth by Erickson. A ‘Higher Coalition’?But is this in any way akin to a demonstrable sign that these unlikeliest of political bedfellows might be inspired at some future point to see themselves as part of a ‘higher coalition’ — one of the unlikeminded, that celebrates difference? Might a critical mass in both movements ever deem it a boon to coalesce around the cause of democratic pluralism? As things stand, neither side embraces such pluralism. Rather, one other attribute they share pervasively is dogmatism: both are convinced that their respective political sensibilities are beyond reproach. As a consequence, over the shorter term, neither group is likely to shed its brand of dogmatism and supplant it with an openness or receptivity to new, much less opposing, points of view. So, for instance, even as the Tea Party seeks to expand its fold, it is no more inclined to change its ideology-based stances on the issues than is MoveOn.org. For the time being, each group not only is entrenched in its own collective political mindset, but each coalesces around a demonstrated antipathy towards alternative approaches to public problem-solving. Is there any remotely plausible scenario by which the members of MoveOn.org and Tea Party might eventually come not just to tolerate their differences but to extol them? One other key Galbraithian element that those comprising an ideal coalition in a democracy must possess is compassion. For members of any coalition to cultivate compassion, they must first, or concomitantly, inculcate empathy, which is typically considered either a precursor to compassion or, along with understanding, a vital component of it. Henning Melber, Executive Director of the Dag Hammarskjold Foundation, and Reinhard Kössler maintain that “(w)hile empathy does not automatically translate into solidarity (nor into ethical behaviour), it can serve as a compass” for doing so, and can lead to a Galbraithian “coalition of the concerned and aware”(37). Such empathy is “a prerequisite for the ability to listen to one another and for permissiveness and openness towards ‘otherness’, and further, can only be born out of a sense of shared suffering” (37). To the authors, it isn’t just that “(s)uffering in its variety of forms requires empathy and solidarity by all,” but that it necessarily “transcends a politically correct ideology” (37). Millions in both the Tea Party and MoveOn.org long suffered from being a mere afterthought to the political establishment, both of them impacted by policies that they are convinced exacerbated rather than ameliorated their woes. But they have shown few if any indications of a willingness to transcend a politically correct ideology. For this to come about, it would, as Melber and Kössler maintain, require “hard, sustained, and imaginative work” (33). How might this come to pass? Greg Anderson, in The Athenian Experiment: Building an Imagined Political Community in Ancient Attica, 508-490 B.C., points to ancient Athens as a paradigmatic example of a society that undertook the hard imaginative work needed to develop the types of mediated connections that over time created a sense of shared belonging to a democratic community. “The process of transformation” in Attica, he argues, is “best understood as a bold exercise in social engineering, an experiment designed to bring together the diverse and far-flung inhabitants of an entire region and forge them into a single, self-governing political community of like-minded individuals” (5). While those males of sufficient socioeconomic distinction who were privileged enough to be citizens in the West’s first experiment in democracy were indeed like-minded, prising a self-governing political community, they were not single-minded; rather, those in the twelve dispersed tribes throughout Attica who coalesced to form a self-governing community apparently thrived on the free exchange and consideration of a wide range of ideas. They held that greater insights emerged only when a variety of views were subjected to scrutiny in the public sphere. Paul Woodruff notes in First Democracy that each Athenian was “given a share of the ability to be citizens, and that ability is understood both as a pair of virtues and as a kind of citizen wisdom.” Governing in this way was based on the shared view that “it is a natural part of being human to know enough to help govern your community” (149). Neither Tea Party nor MoveOn.org followers at present have this shared view on any semblance of a broad scale; rather, each betrays the sensibility that each ‘knows better’. As a consequence, any efforts at expanding their respective folds clearly do not include making overtures (or even extending olive branches) to one another. Even so, as impossibly optimistic as it might seem under current circumstances, I believe eventually they might come to see themselves as part of a greater or higher coalition – one serving the overriding cause of democracy itself – over the much longer term. But for this to become a reality, each group will first have to suffer some more. One other commonality they demonstrate is the power of grassroots activism – and the decided limitations. My hunch is that just as MoveOn.org’s progressives came to feel betrayed when Obama abandoned the liberal agenda of his presidential campaign to engage in political compromise and accommodation, Tea Party activists will come to find that their own expectations for political change will be equally stymied. In the 2010 elections, the Tea Party was a kingmaker in electoral politics, giving Republicans a decisive majority in Congress in the 2010 elections. But I suspect that those candidates the Tea Party supported will eventually resort to the practice of “politics as usual,” largely departing from the Tea Party agenda, in order to accomplish anything in Washington or become irrelevant in the existing system – a system long dominated by two political parties interested above and beyond all else in perpetuating their shared stranglehold on political power, and each equally beholden to corporate America for the contributions to their coffers that enable them to sustain this. If this scenario plays out, then at least some Tea Party activists might plausibly arrive at the unsettling conclusion that their suffering in the political arena is remarkably similar to that experienced by MoveOn.org’s cadre of concerned citizens who catapulted Obama into the office in the land, only to have most of their principal concerns neglected or dismissed, lost in the seamy world of back-room political deal-making. There is another possible scenario: What if either MoveOn.org or Tea Party becomes such an overwhelming force in politics that the other is attenuated, its members relegated once again to the fringe? If this occurred, the public sphere in the United States would be missing a vital dimension that has been part of its makeup since its founding days. For as Joseph Ellis, the Pulitzer Prize-winning historian, points out: the achievement of the revolutionary generation was a collective enterprise that succeeded because of the diversity of personalities and ideologies present in the mix. Their interactions and juxtapositions generated a dynamic form of balance and equilibrium, not because any of them was perfect or infallible, but because their mutual imperfections and fallibilities, as well as their eccentricities and excesses, checked each other… . (17) At the United States’s beginnings, the ties that bound those who revolted against Britain were forged despite their unbridgeable chasms of ideology; their “differing postures toward the twin goals of freedom and equality” were “not resolved so much as built into the fabric of our national identity” (16). Even or especially as irreconcilable differences prompted early Americans to continue waging a battle of ideas in the political trenches, Thomas Jefferson, for one, believed they were all (or nearly all) “constitutionally and conscientiously democrats” (185). Extrapolating from this, one can posit that MoveOn.org and Tea Party, regardless of whether they choose to acknowledge it, are in tandem a modern-day manifestation of the original American coalition. If they could be inspired to see that each is an important player in furthering the democratic experiment as singularly practiced in the U.S., they just might come to care more for one another. Out of such caring, they might realise that neither has a monopoly on political wisdom, and as a result coalesce around the cause of promoting a less hostile body politic. AcknowledgementsThe author is grateful to the two blind peer reviewers for their most helpful suggestions. ReferencesAnderson, Greg. 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