Artigos de revistas sobre o tema "Fear-Avoidance components Scale (FACS)"

BACKGROUND: Alexithymia is a disturbance in awareness and cognitive processing of affect that is associated with over-reporting of physical symptoms, including pain. The relationship between alexithymia and other psychological constructs that are often associated with pain has yet to be evaluated.OBJECTIVES: The present study examined the importance of alexithymia in the pain experience in relation to other integral psychological components of Turk’s diathesis-stress model of chronic pain and disability, including fear of pain, anxiety sensitivity, pain avoidance and pain catastrophizing.METHODS: Heat pain stimuli, using a magnitude estimation procedure, and five questionnaires (Anxiety Sensitivity Index, Fear of Pain Questionnaire III, Pain Catastrophizing Scale, avoidance subscale of the Pain Anxiety Symptoms Scale-20 and Toronto Alexithymia Scale-20) were administered to 67 undergraduate students (44 women) with a mean (± SD) age of 20.39±3.77 years.RESULTS: Multiple linear regression analysis revealed that sex, fear of pain and alexithymia were the only significant predictors of average heat pain intensity (F[6, 60]=5.43; R2=0.35; P=0.008), accounting for 6.8%, 20.0% and 9.6% of unique variance, respectively. Moreover, the difficulty identifying feelings and difficulty describing feelings subscales, but not the externally oriented thinking subscale of the Toronto Alexithymia Scale-20 significantly predicted average heat pain intensity.CONCLUSIONS: Individuals with higher levels of alexithymia or increased fear of pain reported higher average pain intensity ratings. The relationship between alexithymia and pain intensity was unrelated to other psychological constructs usually associated with pain. These findings suggest that difficulties with emotion regulation, either through reduced emotional awareness via alexithymia or heightened emotional awareness via fear of pain, may negatively impact the pain experience.

The article presents the results of studying the connection between Internet addiction and social anxiety and the preferred types of Internet content among adolescents and young people studying in schools and universities. The sample consisted of 72 high school students of a secondary comprehensive school in Moscow aged 15 to 17 years (M=16), including 36 boys and 36 girls, as well as 72 junior students of Moscow universities aged 18 to 20 years old (M=19), of which 36 were boys and 36 were girls. The methodological complex included an Internet Addiction Test (K. Young), the original author's questionnaire of preferred Internet content, Social Avoidance and Distress Scale (SADS, Watson, Friend, 1969), Brief Fear of Negative Evaluation Scale (BFNE, Leary, 1983). It was revealed that the indicators of Internet addiction at the tendency level are higher in adolescents compared to students. Of the three components of social anxiety (social avoidance, social distress and fear of negative social assessment), only the indicator of fear of negative social assessment has a significant positive effect on the growth of indicators of Internet addiction in the combined group of respondents. The preference for content related to communication and self-presentation also has a significant impact on the growth of Internet addiction rates. Being overly concerned with other people's evaluations, seeking their approval, and focusing on self-presentation and social media communication all contribute to Internet addiction (increased time spent on the Internet, loss of control over it, as well as cognitive preoccupation with what is happening on the Internet).

Knowledge of a foreign language helps people from different cultures exchange experiences, expertise, and ideas worldwide. It is considered a valuable asset in the professional field and may be highly useful in personal life. Foreign language classroom anxiety is a phenomenon associated with fear and nervousness that occurs in a language learning context. Foreign language classroom anxiety often leads to a decrease in overall process efficiency, motivation loss, and avoidance of language practice. The aim of this study is to investigate, whether Big Five personality traits contribute to foreign language classroom anxiety. Four hundred and fifty-two foreign language learners aged between 16 and 70 participated in the study. Participants were given а Big Five personality inventory to assess their personality traits (extraversion, agreeableness, conscientiousness, neuroticism, and openness to new experience), and a foreign language classroom anxiety scale which measures the following components: test anxiety, fear of negative evaluation, and communication apprehension. Linear regression was used as an analysis method. The results revealed that neuroticism positively predicted fear of negative evaluation, communication apprehension, and test anxiety. Extraversion negatively predicted fear of negative evaluation, communication apprehension, and test anxiety. Openness to experience also negatively predicted all three foreign language anxiety components. The results of the study suggest that knowledge of learners’ Big Five personality traits may decrease the levels of foreign language anxiety in a classroom.

Background: Adolescents often experience social anxiety caused by acts of body shaming carried out by their friends. This condition causes adolescents to feel that they are not accepted by their surrounding environment. Objectives: This study aimed to analyze the reliability of the Social Anxiety Scale for Adolescents (SAS-A). Design: This research uses descriptive analysis research with a cross-sectional approach. Methods: This research was conducted on May 15, 2023 at Madrasah Aliyah Raden Rahmat, Mojowarno, Jombang. The research instrument used was the Social Anxiety Scale for Adolescents which was adopted from Firdausi (2018) which consists of 18 favorable questions. The research instrument consists of three components, including Fear of Negative Evaluation (FNE), Social Avoidance and Distress with New Social Situation and Unfamiliar Peers (SAD-New), and Social Avoidance and Distance General (SAD-G). Data analysis carried out was Mean, Standard Deviation (SD), and reliability test (Cronbach Alpha) using SPSS 21. Results: Based on the research results, it was found that the Social Anxiety Scale for Adolescents had high reliability test results marked by a Cronbach's Alpha value of .855 (Min = 40.0; Max = 77.0; Mean = 57.94; SD = 10.216). Conclusion: The results of this study indicate that the Social Anxiety Scale for Adolescents is very suitable for use in assessing social anxiety in adolescents at Madrasah Aliyah.

In the present research, the Performance Anxiety Scale for Music Students (PASMS) was developed in three successive studies. In Study 1, the factor structure of PASMS was explored and three components were found: fear of stage (FES), avoidance (AVD) and symptoms (SMP). The internal consistency of the subscales of PASMS, which consisted of 27 items, varied between 0.89 and 0.91. The internal consistency for the whole scale was found to be 0.95. The correlations among PASMS and other anxiety-related measures were significant and in the expected direction, indicating that the scale has convergent validity. The construct validity of the scale was assessed in Study 2 by confirmatory factor analysis. After several revisions, the final tested model achieved acceptable fits. In Study 3, the 14-day test-retest reliability of the final 24-item version of PASMS was tested and found to be extremely high (0.95). In all three studies, the whole scale and subscale scores of females were significantly higher than for males.

Communication anxiety is a fear experienced by individuals who deal with communication either directly or indirectly between individuals and other individuals. Establishment of communication anxiety tools is expected to help researchers and clinical parties who need these measurements to make appropriate interventions related to communication anxiety to students in Indonesia. Communication behavioral indicators of communication anxiety scale are obtained from 4 components: Internal Discomfort, Avoidance of Communication, Communication Disruption, and Overcommunication. The study participants were 115 people consisting of 35 men (30.4%) and 80 women (69.6%). The age range of participants 17-21 years consists of 26 people aged ≥20 years (22.6%), 50 persons aged 20 years (43.5%), 23 persons aged 19 years (20%), 15 persons aged 18 years (13%), and 1 person aged 17 years (0.9%). Based on the results of psychometric tests performed obtained alpha-cronbach results of α = 0.862 (very good) and 28 of 46 aitem have correlation value ≥.30 thus aitem of the scale of anxiety is considered good psychometrically.

Objective:Approximately 10-15% of patients with mild traumatic brain injury (mTBI) report persistent, chronic symptoms more than one month later. Coping behaviors after mTBI can range from fear avoidance (FA), or a reluctance to return to activity because of the fear of symptom exaggeration, to endurance (END), or an overly aggressive return to activity. We evaluated how coping strategy relates to self-reported symptoms in patients with prolonged recovery from mTBI.Participants and Methods:Participants were 72 individuals (age 37.8 + 18.4, 65% female) who sustained a mTBI at least one month prior to assessment (median (IQR) = 5.5 (2.0-11.3) months). Participants completed the Brain Injury Recovery Disposition Scale (BIRDS) to assess FA and END behaviors, and Sport Concussion Assessment Tool (SCAT5) Symptom Inventory. A BIRDS spectrum score was calculated as the difference between FA and END scores to determine individual coping behavior on a spectrum from extreme FA (more negative) to extreme END (more positive). SCAT5 symptoms were separated into four domain scores: somatic, cognitive, sleep, and emotion. Regressions were performed for each outcome examining their potential linear and quadratic associations to coping behavior (i.e., BIRDS spectrum score). Follow-up regressions were performed covarying for age and sex to explore the potential influence of these variables on each outcome.Results:The linear and quadratic components of the BIRDS spectrum score were not significantly related to total number of persisting concussive symptoms. For overall total symptom severity, the quadratic component of the relationship was significant (B = .24, p = 0.04). Visualization of the overall trend line suggested that symptom severity was highest on the extreme FA side of the BIRDS spectrum (highly negative BIRDS spectrum score), decreased as coping behavior become more balanced (BIRDS spectrum score surrounding “0"), plateaued, then increased abruptly on the extreme END side (highly positive BIRDS spectrum score). For cognitive symptoms, the linear component of the BIRDS spectrum score was significant (B = -.28, p = 0.02) and the quadratic component was marginally significant (B = .22, p = 0.06). The quadratic (but not linear) component was significantly related to both the severity of sleep (B = .31, p = 0.01) and emotion symptoms (B = .25, p = 0.03). Finally, neither the linear nor quadratic components were significantly related to the somatic symptom severity. After covarying for age and sex, the quadratic component remained significant for total symptom severity (p = 0.05) as well as the linear component for cognitive severity (p = 0.02).Conclusions:Both extreme “fear avoidance” and “endurance” coping styles may be related to more severe chronic mTBI symptoms, especially in domains of sleep and emotion symptoms. Patients with balance of both fear avoidance and endurance behaviors may be more likely to experience less severe symptoms even among mTBI patients with persistent complaints. Identifying coping behavior styles early after mTBI could improve prognostication and help with developing personalized treatment plans to improve patient recovery. Future research with larger sample sizes should further examine the influence of age and sex on the relationship between coping behavior and symptom severity.

Context Individuals with chronic ankle instability (CAI) experience disease- and patient-oriented impairments that contribute to both immediate and long-term health detriments. Investigators have demonstrated the ability of targeted interventions to improve these impairments. However, the combined effects of a multimodal intervention on a multidimensional profile of health have not been evaluated. Objective To examine the effects of a 4-week rehabilitation program on disease- and patient-oriented impairments associated with CAI. Design Controlled laboratory study. Setting Laboratory. Patients or Other Participants Twenty adults (5 males, 15 females; age = 24.35 ± 6.95 years, height = 169.29 ± 10.10 cm, mass = 70.58 ± 12.90 kg) with self-reported CAI participated. Inclusion criteria were at least 1 previous ankle sprain, at least 2 episodes of “giving way” in the 3 months before the study, and a Cumberland Ankle Instability Tool score ≤24. Intervention(s) Individuals participated in 12 sessions over 4 weeks that consisted of ankle stretching and strengthening, balance training, and joint mobilizations. They also completed home ankle-strengthening and -stretching exercises daily. Main Outcome Measure(s) Dorsiflexion range of motion (weight-bearing–lunge test), isometric ankle strength (inversion, eversion, dorsiflexion, plantar flexion), isometric hip strength (abduction, adduction, flexion, extension), dynamic postural control (Y-Balance test), static postural control (eyes-open and -closed time to boundary in the anterior-posterior and medial-lateral directions), and patient-reported outcomes (Foot and Ankle Ability Measure–Activities of Daily Living and Foot and Ankle Ability Measure–Sport, modified Disablement in the Physically Active scale physical and mental summary components, and Fear-Avoidance Beliefs Questionnaire–Physical Activity and Fear-Avoidance Beliefs Questionnaire–Work) were assessed at 4 times (baseline, preintervention, postintervention, 2-week follow-up). Results Dorsiflexion range of motion, each direction of the Y-Balance test, 4-way ankle strength, hip-adduction and -extension strength, the Foot and Ankle Ability Measure–Activities of Daily Living score, the modified Disablement in the Physically Active scale–physical summary component score, and the Fear-Avoidance Beliefs Questionnaire–Physical Activity score were improved at postintervention (P < .001; effect-size range = 0.72–1.73) and at the 2-week follow-up (P < .001; effect-size range = 0.73–1.72) compared with preintervention. Hip-flexion strength was improved at postintervention compared with preintervention (P = .03; effect size = 0.61). Hip-abduction strength was improved at the 2-week follow-up compared with preintervention (P = .001; effect size = 0.96). Time to boundary in the anterior-posterior direction was increased at the 2-week follow-up compared with preintervention (P < .04; effect-size range = 0.61–0.78) and postintervention (P < .04) during the eyes-open condition. Conclusion A 4-week rehabilitation program improved a multidimensional profile of health in participants with CAI.

Aim. With the advent of an aging society and the development of end-of-life care, there is an increasing need to understand the older generation’s attitude toward end-of-life resuscitation. The study aimed to develop and validate a novel attitude scale toward end-of-life resuscitation in older inpatients. Method. Instrumental development and a psychometric evaluation were used. First, a new attitude scale toward end-of-life resuscitation was formulated from literature views, expert content validity, and face validity. Next, the new scale was evaluated using a principal component analysis and internal consistency reliability in a sample from 106 medical–surgical inpatients in a southern Taiwan hospital 1 enrolled through convenience sampling. Serving as an indicator of concurrent validity, a logistic regression analysis was performed to analyze the association between scores on the scale and intention to discuss end-of-life CPR issues. Results: After being validated by the expert content validity and face validity, a draft of a 20-item scale was created. Throughout the exploratory factor analysis, two items with low factor loadings were removed from the draft scale and an 18-item scale of attitude was generated. This 18-item scale had a three-factor structure that accounted for 64.1% of the total variance; the three components were named ‘stress, avoidance, and ignorance’, ‘a peaceful death’, and ‘self-determination and ambivalence’. The Cronbach’s alpha of the total scale and three components were 0.845, 0.885, 0.879, and 0.857, respectively, which indicated a favorable reliability. Scores on the scale were significantly associated with the intention to discuss end-of-life CPR issues, which also indicated a favorable concurrent validity. Conclusions: A 18-item attitude scale with three factors is a valid scale to measure the attitude toward end-of-life resuscitation. The result provides preliminary evidence of the psychometric properties of the scale. Further research with larger samples or other populations is required.

Context The accurate evaluation of self-reported changes in function throughout the rehabilitation process is important for determining patient progression. Currently, how a response shift (RS) may affect the accuracy of self-reported functional assessment in a population with chronic ankle instability (CAI) is unknown. Objective To examine the RS in individuals with CAI after a 4-week multimodal rehabilitation program. Design Controlled laboratory study. Setting Laboratory. Patients or Other Participants Twenty adults (5 men, 15 women; age = 24.35 ± 6.95 years, height = 169.29 ± 10.10 cm, mass = 70.58 ± 12.90 kg) with self-reported CAI participated. Inclusion criteria were at least 1 previous ankle sprain, at least 2 episodes of the ankle “giving way” in the 3 months before the study, and a score ≤24 on the Cumberland Ankle Instability Tool. Intervention(s) Individuals participated in 12 intervention sessions over 4 weeks and daily home ankle strengthening and stretching. Main Outcome Measure(s) Patient-reported outcomes (PROs) were assessed at 4 times (baseline, preintervention, postintervention, and 2-week follow-up). At the postintervention and 2-week follow-up, participants completed then-test assessments to measure RS. Then-test assessments are retrospective evaluations of perceived baseline function completed after an intervention. The PROs consisted of the Foot and Ankle Ability Measure-Activities of Daily Living and Sport subscales, the modified Disablement in the Physically Active scale physical and mental summary components, and the Fear-Avoidance Beliefs Questionnaire Physical Activity and Work subscales. We used repeated-measures analyses of variance to compare preintervention with then-test measurements. Individual-level RSs were examined by determining the number of participants who experienced preintervention to then-test differences that exceeded the calculated minimal detectable change. Results We did not identify an RS for any PRO (F > 2.338, P > .12), indicating no group-level differences between the preintervention and retrospective then-test assessments. Individual-level RS was most prominent in the Foot and Ankle Ability Measure-Sport subscale (n = 6, 30%) and the Fear-Avoidance Beliefs Questionnaire Physical Activity subscale (n = 9, 45%). Conclusions No group-level RS was identified for any PRO after a 4-week multimodal rehabilitation program in individuals with CAI. This finding indicates that traditional assessment of self-reported function was accurate for evaluating the short-term effects of rehabilitation in those with CAI. Low levels of individual-level RS were identified.

Background: Nursing professionals face a variety of stressful situations daily, where the patients’ own stresses and the demands of their family members are the most important sources of such stress. Methods: The main objectives pursued were to describe the relationships of self-efficacy and emotional intelligence with perceived stress in a sample of nursing professionals. We also developed predictive models for each of the components of perceived stress based on the dimensions of emotional intelligence and self-efficacy, for the total sample, as well as samples differentiated by sex. This study sample consisted of 1777 nurses and was conducted using multiple scales: the perceived stress questionnaire, general self-efficacy scale, and the brief emotional intelligence survey for senior citizens. Results: The variables stress management, mood, adaptability, intrapersonal skills, and self-efficacy explained 22.7% of the variance in the harassment–social component, while these same variables explained 28.9% of the variance in the irritability–tension–fatigue dimension. The variables mood, stress management, self-efficacy, intrapersonal, and interpersonal explained 38.6% of the variance in the energy–joy component, of which the last variable offers the most explanatory capacity. Finally, the variables stress management, mood, interpersonal, self-efficacy and intrapersonal skills explained 27.2% of the variance in the fear–anxiety dimension. Conclusion: The results of this study suggest that one way to reduce stress in professionals would be to help them improve their emotional intelligence in programs (tailored to consider particularities of either sex) within the framework of nursing, enabling them to develop and acquire more effective stress coping strategies, which would alleviate distress and increase the wellbeing of health professionals.

The pandemic that hit in early 2020 has caused face-to-face Nihongo Partner Program to be postponed. As a result, Japanese language lecturers in a public university have come out with an online program to be utilized by students who are learning Japanese and also Japanese students who will be participating in the practical training in teaching Japanese. A study using a quantitative approach was conducted once the program ended. 465 students who participated in the program responded to the survey. The survey questions which consisted of two parts were answered by the respondents. Part A questions related to the background of the respondents while part B has five components which includes (i) respondent reaction during the program, (ii) respondent reaction before the program,(iii) respondent reaction during the program, (iv) respondent reaction after the program, (v) comments and suggestions for improvement. In components i-iv, respondents have to choose five likert scales, while component (v) requires respondents to provide comments and suggestions in written form. The questions of the survey are to answer (1) respondents’ perceptions of this program, (2) strengths and weaknesses of this program, (3) improvements that can be made for the future program. The results of the study found that most of the students agreed that the online NP Program (1) is positive and can be utilized for learning Japanese, (2) improves speaking skills with the correct pronunciation and intonation, increases confidence to speak in Japanese either with Japanese people or classmates, providing an opportunity for respondents to use Japanese language. However, (3) some respondents expressed a fear of making mistakes with the presence of native speakers. From the survey a total of 19 suggestions and improvements were given by the respondents.

Addiction of boys and girls from social networks is associated with the presence of their feelings of loneliness, as well as anxiety, depression, stress, dissatisfaction with life, impulsivity, narcissism, weak assertiveness, low self-esteem, insecurity from cyberbullying. The purpose of this study is to test the hypothesis about the possible connections of the addiction of young people from social networks with their self-confidence, emotional intelligence and style of behaviour in conflict situations. The empirical study was based on the data of an online survey of 265 respondents, including 117 boys and 148 girls. Dependence on social networks was measured by the ZSS-15 questionnaire (V. P. Sheinov, A. S. Devitsyn), self-confidence – by the method of V. G. Romek, emotional intelligence – by the Thomas – Kilmann test, dependence on a smartphone – a short version of the SAS-16 of the questionnaire «Scale of dependence on a smartphone» (V. P. Sheinov). The article found that boys and girls have statistically significant negative associations of addiction from social networks with self-confidence and positive connections with dependence on a smartphone and with all the factors that form it (loss of control over themselves, fear of losing a smartphone and euphoria from its use). It is shown that it is the psychological problems of young people that are the main reason for the occurrence of one or another degree of addiction from social networks. At the same time, the need of young men and women in communication is satisfied if they have addiction to a lesser extent than the factors «psychological state» and «obtaining information». Neither boys nor girls have been found to link social media addiction to social contact initiative. The social media addiction of young men is negatively correlated with their social courage and positively correlated with their reaction to conflict in avoidance mode. Such correlations in girls have not been recorded. In boys and girls, there are various correlations of addiction from social networks with emotional intelligence: in boys – a negative connection with self-management, in girls – a positive connection with the recognition of emotions of other people. In general, girls are more dependent than boys on social media. These results are new, as neither domestic nor foreign publications have found results on the links of social media addiction to components of emotional intelligence.

Abstract Objectives The Fear-Avoidance Components Scale (FACS) is a recently developed patient-reported instrument assessing different constructs related to the fear-avoidance model of pain. The aim was to translate the original English FACS into Dutch (FACS-D) and assess its measurement properties in persons with chronic musculoskeletal pain. Methods The original English FACS (20 item-scale, range: 0–100) was translated in Dutch through standard forward-backward translation methodology. The FACS-D’s measurement properties were evaluated in 224 persons with chronic musculoskeletal pain. Internal consistency, test-retest reliability and measurement error were assessed with the Cronbach’s alpha coefficient (α), intraclass correlation coefficient (ICC), and standard error of measurement (SEM). Construct validity was assessed through inter-item correlation analyses, exploratory factor analysis, association with other fear-avoidance-related constructs, and hypothesis testing. Results Internal consistency, test-retest reliability and hypotheses testing were good (α=0.92; ICC=0.92, CI 0.80–0.96; 7/8 hypotheses confirmed). Similar to the original FACS and other translated versions, a two-factor model best fit the data. However, the item distribution differed from other versions. One factor represented “pain-related cognitions and emotions” and a second factor represented “avoidance behaviour.” In contrast to the original FACS, low inter-item correlations for item 12 were found. The FACS-D was more strongly associated with fear-avoidance-related constructs of pain severity, perceived disability, feelings of injustice, and depressive/anxiety symptoms than the other fear-avoidance-related scales studied here. Conclusions The FACS-D demonstrated good reliability and construct validity, suggesting that it may be a useful measure for Dutch-speaking healthcare providers. Two clinically relevant factors, with a different item distribution than the original FACS, were identified: one covering items on pain-related cognitions and emotions, and one covering items on avoidance behaviour. The stronger association between FACS-D and fear-avoidance related constructs suggests that the FACS-D may be more effective in evaluating the cognitive, emotional and behavioural constructs of pain-related fear-avoidance than other similar measures.

The prevalence of fear of movement (kinesiophobia) in persistent pain ranges from 50 to 70%, and it may hinder the subsequent rehabilitation interventions. Therefore, the evaluation of fear of movement/(re)injury plays a crucial role in making clinical treatment decisions conducive to the promotion of rehabilitation and prognosis. In the decision-making process of pain treatment, the assessment of fear of movement/(re)injury is mainly completed by scale/questionnaire. Scale/questionnaire is the most widely used instrument for measuring fear of movement/(re)injury in the decision-making process of pain treatment. At present, the most commonly used scale/questionnaire are the Tampa Scale for Kinesiophobia (TSK), the Fear-Avoidance Beliefs Questionnaire (FABQ), the Kinesiophobia Causes Scale (KCS), the Athlete Fear-Avoidance Questionnaire (AFAQ), and the Fear-Avoidance Components Scale (FACS). In order to provide necessary tools and references for related research and rehabilitation treatment, this descriptive review is designed as an introduction to the background and content, score system, available language versions, variants of the original questionnaire, and psychometric properties of these scales/questionnaries.

The Fear-Avoidance Components Scale (FACS) and the Fear of Daily Activities Questionnaire (FDAQ) assess fear-avoidance model components. However, the questionnaires are not available in Brazilian Portuguese. This study aimed to translate the original English FACS and FDAQ into Brazilian (Br) Portuguese and assess their measurement properties in patients with Chronic Low Back Pain (CLBP). One hundred thirty volunteers with CLBP participated in this study. Structural validity, internal consistency, test-retest reliability, and hypothesis testing for construct validity were analyzed. Results indicated a 2-factor solution for the FACS-Br, while the FDAQ-Br had a one-factor solution. Internal consistency showed acceptable Cronbach’s alpha (alpha >.8). Suitable reliability was found for the FDAQ-Br (Intraclass Correlation Coefficient [ICC] = .98). For both FACS-Br factors, suitable reliability was found as well (ICC = .95 and .94). Hypothesis testing for construct validity confirmed more than 75% of the hypotheses proposed a priori for the FACS maladaptive pain/movement-related beliefs domain and the FDAQ-Br. In conclusion, the FACS-Br and FDAQ-Br demonstrated acceptable reliability, internal consistency, and structural validity measurement properties and their correlation (r < .50) suggests that the tools are not interchangeable measures.

Chronic pain due to musculoskeletal injury is one of the leading causes of disability and reduced combat readiness in the U.S. Army. Unidimensional pain management systems are not effective in addressing the complex phenomenon of pain-related disability. Growing evidence has supported use of the Fear Avoidance Model (FAM) as a suitable model to address pain-related disability and chronicity from a multidimensional pain neuroscience approach. While several fear avoidance measurement tools exist, one that addresses the complexity of the Army environment encouraged the authors to develop and test the reliability and validity of a military specific questionnaire. This study developed and validated an Army specific fear avoidance screening, the Return to Duty Readiness Questionnaire (RDRQ), which subsequently demonstrated good psychometric properties. Reliability coefficients demonstrate high internal consistency values both during pilot study (α = 0.96) and validation study (α = 0.94, ωt = 0.94). A Correlation Coefficient of 0.74 when compared with the Fear Avoidance Components Scale (FACS) suggests good concurrent validity. Future study should include replication in a new army population, investigation of responsiveness, test-retest reliability, structural validity and establishing severity scores with minimal clinically important differences to enhance utility.

Abstract Purpose To examine the relationship between fear-avoidance behavior, clinical outcomes, and recovery time in adults following concussion. Method This prospective study included patients aged 18–50 years who presented to a specialty clinic 5–30 days post-concussion. Participants completed a clinical intake (e.g., demographics/medical history), multidomain clinical assessment (Clinical Profile Screen [CP-Screen], Immediate Post-concussion Cognitive Testing [ImPACT], Vestibular/Ocular Motor Screen [VOMS], Patient Health Questionnaire-9 [PHQ-9], Generalized Anxiety Disorder-7 [GAD-7]), and the Fear-Avoidance Components Scale (FACS). Recovery time was ascertained at a subsequent visit(s). Fear-avoidant (FA) and non-fear-avoidant (NFA) groups were classified using cutoffs from the FACS (FA = 41–100; NFA = 0–40) and compared using independent samples t-tests, X2 tests, and analyses of covariance. Results Seventy-two participants (M = 28.7¬ ± 8.5 years, 69.4% female) were included: 37 (51.4%) in the FA and 35 (48.6%) in the NFA group. Groups did not differ on demographics, medical history, injury characteristics, or CP-Screen. A greater proportion of the FA group had the anxiety/mood profile (62.2% vs 31.4%, p < 0.01). The FA group had worse ImPACT reaction time (t(68) = −2.7, p < 0.01, d = −0.7), VOMS visual motion sensitivity (t(67) = −2.3, p = 0.03, d = −0.5), GAD-7 (t(70) = −3.9, p < 0.01, d = −0.9), and PHQ-9 (t(69) = −2.8, p < 0.01, d = −0.7) scores, and longer recovery (t(24) = −2.8, p = 0.01, d = −0.9), even when controlling for age and time to clinic (F[1, 22] = 4.6, p = 0.04, ηp2 = 0.17). Conclusions Adults who reported high fear-avoidance (e.g., avoiding activity, catastrophizing) had worse clinical outcomes and longer recovery following concussion compared to non-fear-avoidant adults, despite no differences in demographics, medical history, injury characteristics, or symptoms. Clinicians should screen for and counsel adults post-concussion against engaging in fear-avoidance behaviors to improve recovery outcomes.

Abstract Background Labor pain intensity is known to predict persistent postpartum pain, whereas acute postpartum pain may interfere with maternal postpartum physical, mental, and emotional well-being. Nevertheless, there is little research studying the association between labor pain intensity and acute postpartum pain. This study investigated the associations between labor pain intensity and psychological factors with acute postpartum pain. Methods We included women with American Society of Anesthesiologists (ASA) physical status II, having ≥ 36 gestational weeks and a singleton pregnancy. We investigated the association between labor pain intensity (primary exposure) and high acute postpartum pain at 0 to 24 h after delivery (Numeric Rating Scale (NRS) ≥ 3 of 10; primary outcome). Pre-delivery questionnaires including Angle Labor Pain Questionnaire (A-LPQ), Pain Catastrophizing Scale (PCS), Fear Avoidance Components Scale (FACS) and State Trait Anxiety Inventory (STAI) were administered. Demographic, pain, obstetric and neonatal characteristics were also collected accordingly. Results Of the 880 women studied, 121 (13.8%) had high acute postpartum pain at 0 to 24 h after delivery. A-LPQ total, PCS, FACS and STAI scores were not significantly associated with acute postpartum pain. Greater A-LPQ subscale on birthing pain (adjusted odds ratio (aOR) 1.03, 95% CI 1.01–1.05, p = 0.0008), increased blood loss during delivery (for every 10ml change; aOR 1.01, 95% CI 1.00–1.03, p = 0.0148), presence of shoulder dystocia (aOR 10.06, 95% CI 2.28–44.36, p = 0.0023), and use of pethidine for labor analgesia (aOR 1.74, 95% CI 1.07–2.84, p = 0.0271) were independently associated with high acute postpartum pain. “Sometimes” having nausea during menstruation before current pregnancy (aOR 0.34, 95% CI 0.16–0.72, p = 0.0045) was found to be independently associated with reduced risk of high acute postpartum pain. Conclusions Pre-delivery pain factor together with obstetric complications (shoulder dystocia, blood loss during delivery) were independently associated with high acute postpartum pain. Trial registration This study was registered on clinicaltrials.gov registry (NCT03167905) on 30/05/2017.

AbstractTo analyze the factorial structure and psychometric properties of the Spanish adaptation of the AEQ, and to validate it by reporting relevant pain-related variables, which were not investigated in the original study. One hundred and fifty Spanish patients diagnosed with chronic back and neck pain were referred by physicians from different pain clinics in Spain; all the patients filled out the questionnaires at their clinic. A series of principal components analyses (PCA) was performed to develop the Spanish version of the AEQ. Reliability and validity were also calculated. The PCAs revealed five fear-avoidance scales (Kaiser-Meyer-Olkin measures were between .60 and .88, and Bartlett’s tests were significant, p < .01): the Depression scale (DS), Anxiety scale (AS), Catastrophizing scale (CS), Helplessness/hopelessness scale (HHS), and Avoidance of Social and Physical Activities scale (ASPAS), and three endurance-related responses scales: Pain Persistence Behaviour and Distraction scale (PPDS), Ignoring Pain scale (IPS), and Humor scale (HS). All the scales showed high internal consistency (α > .73) and suitable validity (p < .05). New results associated with pain-related cognitive/affective and behavioural responses are discussed. This instrument will probably help clinicians to identify Spanish patients at a high risk of chronicity and to develop treatments tailored to the different profiles in order to improve secondary and tertiary prevention in back and neck pain.

AbstractObjectivesFear-avoidance beliefs questionnaire (FABQ) is a self-report, valid and reliable questionnaire to quantify fear and avoidance beliefs related to physical activity and work. Furthermore, it can be used to predict prolong disability in patients with non-specific neck pain. Although it was originally developed to manage patients with low back pain, it has also been studied in individuals with neck pain. This questionnaire was translated into several languages following reports of potential benefits in patients with neck pain. Recently, Thai neck clinical trials, international multi-centre trials and data sharing are growing throughout the world but no validated Thai version of the FABQ is available for clinical and research uses. Our objectives were to translate and cross-culturally adapt the FABQ into Thai version and evaluate its psychometric properties in Thai patients with non-specific neck pain.MethodsCross-cultural translation and adaptation of the FABQ were conducted according to standard guidelines. A total of 129 participants with non-specific neck pain were invited to complete the Thai versions of the FABQ (FABQ-TH), neck disability index and visual analogue scale for pain intensity. Psychometric evaluation included exploratory factor analysis, internal consistency, test-retest reliability, agreement, and convergent validity. Thirty participants completed the FABQ-TH twice with a 48-h interval between tests to assess the test-retest reliability.ResultsFactor analysis identified four components for the FABQ-TH (66.69% of the total variance). The intraclass correlation coefficient of test-retest reliability was excellent for the total score (0.986), work attitudes (0.995), physical activity attitudes (0.958), physical activity experiences (0.927), and expected recovery (0.984). Cronbach’s alpha for internal consistency was excellent (range 0.87–0.88) for all items. The minimal detectable change of the FABQ-TH was 5.85. The FABQ-TH correlated to its subscales (range 0.470–0.936), indicating the strongest association with work attitude. The weakest correlation was observed between the FABQ-TH and disability (rs=0.206, p=0.01). Missing data and significant floor or ceiling effects were not found.ConclusionsThe Thai version of the FABQ for non-specific neck pain was successfully adapted. It is a valid and reliable instrument to quantify fear and avoidance beliefs among patients with non-specific neck pain who speak and read Thai.

<b><i>Introduction:</i></b> People suffering from fibromyalgia syndrome report various difficulties in emotional processing, possibly resulting from changes in bodily perception (interoception). In our study, we investigated the relationships between interoceptive sensibility (IS) and two disease-relevant emotional components (alexithymia and emotion regulation) in fibromyalgia sufferers compared to healthy individuals. <b><i>Methods:</i></b> Fifty-five fibromyalgia sufferers and 55 healthy individuals, matched with regard to age and gender, participated in our cross-sectional study. All participants completed the following self-report measures: the Multidimensional Assessment of Interoceptive Awareness, the Toronto Alexithymia Scale, and the Emotion Regulation Skills Questionnaire. Depression and anxiety scores served as confounding variables. <b><i>Results:</i></b> Fibromyalgia sufferers reported a stronger tendency to note as well as to avoid (unpleasant) body sensations. IS and psychopathology each explained about thirty percent of the variance in emotion regulation in fibromyalgia sufferers. Alexithymia was related to IS and emotion regulation in controls but not in fibromyalgia sufferers. <b><i>Conclusion:</i></b> Disturbances in interoception could be seen as the starting point of emotional difficulties in people with fibromyalgia. Following the fear-avoidance-model, experiential avoidance may restrict patients’ ability to adaptively regulate emotional states, possibly initiating a vicious cycle of psychological distress and pain.

ObjectiveTo explore the mediating role of depression in the relationship between family functioning and suicidal ideation (SI) in college students, and to explore whether acceptance (It is one of the core components of psychological flexibility) plays a moderating role in this mediating model.MethodsIn a cross-sectional study, questionnaires were distributed to college students during November and December 2022. The sample of Chinese college students (n = 592, 43.07% male, 56.93% female, mean age 19.40 years, SD = 1.24 years) completed the Family Adaptability and Cohesion Evaluation Scale (FACES III), the Center for Epidemiological Depression Scale (CES-D), the Positive and Negative Suicide Ideation Inventory (PANSI), and the Acceptance and Action Questionnaire-Second Edition (AAQ II). SPSS 25.0 for Windows and PROCESS 2.15 macros were used for data analysis.ResultsThere was a significant negative correlation between family functioning and SI, and depression played a mediating role in this relationship. Acceptance moderated the indirect effects of depression and SI in college students. In college students with a lower acceptance level (i.e., higher experiential avoidance level), depression had more influence on SI, while the influence of depression on SI was less in college students with a higher acceptance level (i.e., lower experiential avoidance level). Family functioning indirectly influenced SI through the moderation of acceptance.ConclusionMental health educators in colleges and universities should pay more attention to identifying and relieving depression in college students, thereby dealing with suicide risk more effectively. At the same time, college students should be discouraged from excessive use of experiential avoidance strategies, and instead taught to master effective emotional regulation strategies such as mindfulness, distress tolerance, and radical acceptance skills to improve their acceptance level and alleviate the influence of depression on SI.

It has long been recognized that humans tend to anthropomorphize. That is, we naturally and effortlessly interpret the behaviors of nonhuman agents in the same way we interpret human behaviors. This tendency has only recently become a subject of empirical research. Most of this work uses explicit measures. Participants are asked whether they attribute some human-like trait to a nonhuman agent on some scale. These measures, however, have two limitations. First, they do not capture automatic components of anthropomorphism. Second, they generally only track one anthropomorphic result: the attribution (or non-attribution) of a particular trait. However, anthropomorphism can affect how we interpret animal behavior in other ways as well. For example, the grin of a nonhuman primate often looks to us like a smile, but it actually signals a state more like fear or anxiety. In the present work, we tested for implicit components of anthropomorphism based on an affective priming paradigm. Previous work suggests that priming with human faces displaying emotional expressions facilitated categorization of words into congruent emotion categories. In Experiments 1–3, we primed participants with images of nonhuman animals that appear to express happy or sad emotions, and asked participants to categorize words as positive or negative. Experiment 4 used human faces as control. Overall, we found consistent priming congruency effects in accuracy but not response time. These appeared to be more robust in older adults. They also appear to emerge with more processing time, and the pattern was the same with human as with primate faces. This demonstrates a role for automatic processes of emotion recognition in anthropomorphism. It also provides a potential measure for further exploration of implicit anthropomorphism.

Abstract Background Low back pain (LBP) is a top musculoskeletal problem and a substantial cause of socioeconomic burden internationally. The STarT Back Screening Tool (SBST) is a useful screening tool to manage patients with LBP but it is unavailable in Thai. Therefore, the aims of this study were to translate and cross-culturally adapt the SBST into a Thai version (SBST-TH) and validate its psychometric properties (e.g., factor analysis, internal consistency, test-retest reliability, agreement, convergent validity and discriminative validity). Methods Translation and cross-cultural adaptation of the SBST into Thai version were conducted according to standard guidelines. A total of 200 participants with non-specific LBP were invited to complete the SBST, visual analogue scale for pain intensity, Roland-Morris disability questionnaire (RMDQ), fear-avoidance beliefs questionnaire, pain catastrophising scale, hospital anxiety and depression scale and the EuroQol five-dimensional questionnaire. Thirty participants completed the SBST-TH twice with an interval of 48 h to evaluate test-retest reliability. Results Factor analysis demonstrated two (physical and psychological) components for the SBST-TH (39.38% of the total variance). The Cronbach’s alpha (0.86 for total score and 0.76 for psychosocial subscore) represent satisfactory internal consistency. The acceptability of intraclass correlation coefficient was found in the total (0.73) and subscore (0.79). The areas under the curve (AUC) for the total score ranged 0.67–0.85 and 0.66–0.75 for subscore. The excellent discriminative validity was observed (AUC = 0.85, 95% confidence interval = 0.72, 0.97) between the total score of the SBST-TH and disability (RMDQ). Spearman’s correlation coefficients represented moderate to strong correlation (0.32–0.56) between the SBST-TH and all questionnaires. The findings suggest a good relationship between the SBST-TH and disability and quality of life. Owing to the results from the convergent and discriminative validity, construct validity of the SBST-TH can be supported. The minimal detectable changes of the total score and subscore were 2.04 and 1.60, respectively. Significant floor and ceiling effects were not found in the SBST-TH. Conclusion The SBST-TH was successfully translated and adapted. It is a valid and reliable tool to classify Thai patients with non-specific LBP into low, moderate and high risks for chronicity. Trial registration TCTR20191009005#.

Stigma toward mental disorders is one of today's most pressing global issues. The Covid-19 pandemic has exacerbated the barriers to social inclusion faced by individuals with mental disorders. Concurrently, stigma reduction interventions, especially those aimed at university students, have been more difficult to implement given social distancing and campus closures. As a result, alternative delivery for programs contributing to stigma reduction is required, such as online implementation. This paper reports the results of a controlled study focused on an online multi-component program on reducing stigma toward mental illness that included project-based learning, clinical simulations with standardized patients and E-Contact with real patients. A total of 40 undergraduate students from the Universidad del Desarrollo in Santiago, Chile, participated in the study. They were randomly divided between an intervention and control group. The intervention group participated in the online multi-component program, while the control group participated in an online educational program on cardiovascular health. We assessed the impact of the program by using the validated Spanish-language versions of the Attribution Questionnaire AQ-27 and the Questionnaire on Student Attitudes toward Schizophrenia with both groups, before and after the intervention. In addition, an ad hoc Likert scale ranging from 0 to 5 was used with the intervention group in order to assess the learning strategies implemented. Following the intervention, the participants belonging to the intervention group displayed significantly lower levels of stereotypes, perception of dangerousness, and global score toward people with schizophrenia (p < 0.001). In addition, participants presented lower levels of dangerousness-fear, avoidance, coercion, lack of solidarity, and global score (p < 0.001). The control group displayed no statistically significant differences in the level of stigma before and after the evaluation, for all of the items assessed. Finally, the overall assessment of each of the components of the program was highly positive. In conclusion, the study shows that online programs can contribute to reducing stigma toward mental disorders. The program assessed in this study had a positive impact on all the dimensions of stigma and all of the components of the program itself were positively evaluated by the participants.

Abstract Background Substance using often cause a wide range of social, health, and psychological problems. This study aimed to develop and validate a questionnaire of barriers of treatment in substance users. Methods In this cross-sectional study, the initial questionnaire was designed based on the evaluation of previous studies. The preliminary tool including 35 Likert-scaled items. After assuring the face validity of the questionnaire, 13 experts’ opinions were obtained for assessing or improving the content validity. The reliability was investigated by internal consistency methods using Cronbach’s alpha. For measuring the structural validity, the exploratory factor analysis was performed to determine the dimensionality of the questionnaire using principal components extraction and Varimax rotation. Results The preliminary questionnaire consisted of 35 items. After completing the face validity and summarizing the experts’ suggestions, 8 items were removed. By calculating the content validity ratio and coefficient, 11 questions were deleted. The internal consistency was calculated to be 0.84 using Cronbach’s alpha. In the last stage and according to the results of the factor analysis, three factors fear of or unawareness of treatment, doubt or inefficiency, and social stigma were identified from the 10-items questionnaire, which explained 67.34% of the total variance. Conclusion Considering the necessity of using a validated tool for planning and evaluating effective interventions on people who use substance is inevitable. The Substance use Treatment Barriers Questionnaire is designed with 10 items and 3 dimensions, which has appropriate validity and reliability and can be used to determine the obstacles for treatment or factors that lead to discontinuing treatment.

Abstract Background older adults face several modifiable barriers for engaging in physical activity (PA) programmes such as incontinence, loneliness and fear of falling. Enhancing PA programmes with behavioural components to support self-management of such barriers may increase the effectiveness to preserve functional capacity and independent living. Objective this study aimed at assessing the effects of a complex active lifestyle intervention (CALSTI) on objective and self-report measures of functional capacity and disability in community-dwelling older adults. Subjects and Methods about 215 older adults (79.9 ± 0.4 years) at increased risk of functional decline were randomly allocated to (i) CALSTI consisting of 12-weeks progressive explosive resistance training (24 sessions) enhanced by a 24-week multi-factorial self-management programme (8 sessions), or (ii) an extended version of the self-management intervention (SEMAI; 12 sessions) to reflect a reinforcement of usual care. The interventions were embedded in a nationally regulated preventive care pathway. Blinded assessors collected primary (the Short Physical Performance Battery; SPPB) and secondary outcome data (self-reported difficulty in activities of daily living, the short version of the Late-Life Function and Disability Index, and the EQ-health VAS scale) at baseline and after 12 and 24 weeks. Results after 24 weeks, CALSTI led to a clinically superior increase in SPPB compared with SEMAI (+0.77 points, P < 0.01), and the CALSTI group also demonstrated improvements in selected self-reported outcomes. Conclusions a novel complex exercise and multi-factorial self-management intervention embedded in preventive care practice had large and clinically meaningful effects on a key measure of functional capacity and predictor of disability.

AbstractIn China, coal miners are the primary workforce in coal mining, and among all patients with occupational diseases, 90% suffer from pneumoconiosis. Therefore, the psychological problems resulting from the dual pressures of occupational stress and the high risk of occupational diseases among coal miners are significant factors that affect the development of physical and mental health and even production safety. The Crown–Crisp Experience Index (CCEI) is a multidimensional questionnaire that assesses the psychological state of patients. This study aims to test reliability and validity of Chinese version of the CCEI questionnaire using factor analysis, and apply it to coal miners. We recruited a total of 900 participants from different occupational stages in coal mining, including active miners, Coal Workers’ Pneumoconiosis (CWP) patients, and retired miners, to evaluate the reliability and validity of the Chinese version of the CCEI questionnaire. A questionnaire survey was conducted on three groups of 1000 individuals each, including active coal miners, retired coal miners, and pneumoconiosis patients, to determine the detection rate of psychological problems in each group. An analysis was performed for each group to explore the primary factors influencing anxiety. The exploratory factor analysis yielded six principal components that accounted for a total of 79.389% of variances. The confirmatory factor analysis showed that the Chi-square freedom ratio (χ2/df) was 1.843, the root mean square error approximation was less than 0.044, and the comparative fit index was 0.938 and Tucker–Lewis index (TLI) was 0.934. The Cronbach's alpha coefficient was 0.948, and the scale-level content validity index (S-CVI) was 0.88. Effective questionnaires were obtained from 98.5%, 96.9%, to 91.0% of pneumoconiosis patients, active miners, and retired miners, respectively, with the incidence rates of psychological problems being 21%, 35.8%, and 13.6%, respectively. Compared with retired miners, active miners showed higher levels of psychological problems in the dimensions of depressive symptoms, free-floating anxiety and somatic symptoms, whereas pneumoconiosis patients had higher levels of psychological problems in the dimensions of phobic anxiety and somatic symptoms. This study demonstrates that the Chinese version of the CCEI is highly reliable and valid and can be used as a screening tool to measure patients' anxiety and fear levels in coal minders. Miners face distinct psychological challenges at different stages and require targeted screening and interventions.

The release of the Urban issue of M/C a journal of media and culture is particularly timely. This same month, the United Nations General Assembly is hosting the World Urban Forum [http://www.unhabitat.org], designated as an advisory body to support implementation of the Habitat Agenda and to meet the Millennium Development goal of improving living conditions of slum dwellers throughout the globe. Anna Kajumulo Tibaijuka, Executive Director of UN-Habitat, promotes the forum by asking us to imagine a world without slums, replaced with productive and inclusive cities that meet the needs of all their citizens, rich and poor alike (Guardian Weekly, 11 April). The focus of the World Urban Forum might serve to remind us that what characterises a particular use of space as urban is not its status as a built environment but the degree to which its habitudes facilitate a lived environment. It is the experience rather than the artefact which constitutes the urban. To put the same point in a rather more banal way, it is not the street but the motion of the pedestrians, commuters upon the street that marks out the trajectories and shapes of urban life. Yet there is also in Tibaijuka's sales pitch for the World Urban Forum a fundamental contradiction that cannot be ignored here. The vision of cities meeting the needs of all citizens seems to invert the ancient logic of civitas, the city appropriate to the needs of its inhabitants, because this vision is blinkered against the economies of scale (and the scale of economics) from which urbanisation proceeds. Rich and poor alike: there is a suggestion here that class or wealth precedes the formulation of needs that a city may be developed to accommodate, as if class structures are not bound up in the lines of demarcation and divisions of space separating the good side of the tracks from the bad. Being able to imagine a world without slums, without resorting to utopian idealisations, requires a realistic acceptance that citizenship and the city emerge togetherthe latter is not built from scratch to meet the needs of a pre-existing citizenry. The urban might indeed be usefully thought of as the site of emergence for both the city and its citizenry, the mode of becoming-civic. Thus, it is important to keep in mind the specificity of the urban experience and to account for this experience, in some sense, on its own terms. Once upon a time, it was fashionable to define the city in opposition to the country. Of course, there is something to be said for this kind of differentiation. A quick drive from Brisbane out through the western suburbs and onwards toward the Darling Downs may remind the traveller of how different from each other the city and the country really are: they look different, they smell different, they seem to function at different rates and on different timescales. Yet we may wonder if the inhabitant of an apartment block in New York ever conceives of her life in terms of its difference from that of the farmer whose agrarian lifestyle she has never encountered. Life in the city is not experienced in terms of something other than city life. Life in the city simply is life in the city. Just as the emphasis on practised and lived space directs our attention to the everyday and the mundane, sites of banality that Benjamin once insisted were crucial sites of political and cultural importance, the attempts of urban theorists to capture the quotidian result in a series of impasses including high/low and theory/practice antinomies. If we are still caught in residual thinking in which, as Lefebvre remarked, a city of nightmares is only countered by a city of dreams, then we are still a far cry away from appreciating the complexities and contradictions of lived and practised urban space. We are even further away from--perhaps too far above--addressing the plight of the slum dweller that the World Urban Forum urges we must. Caught within a theory-practice fold, a desire to plan the utopian quest must always be tempered by a cautious approach. Looking back to modernity's plans and some of the disasters of urban planning, we recognise a continual catapaulting of the urban into the realm of danger and chaos. Importantly, these realms unfold in such a way that they encompass both the level of individual experience and global processes. Indeed, as these words were being written, an explosion in a tower in New York sent shudders through the population: was this another terrorist attack? The types of experiences defining urban life have undergone a major transformation in the last six months, a paradigm shift of sorts, collapsing the range of possible urban experiences into the discourse of terror and the political (and economic) ends it serves. The World Urban Forum represents another way in which the paradigm of the urban is being redefined on a global scale, although the mechanisms of change it institutes will no doubt be more gradual, and we might wonder whether they will be anywhere near as effective. The urban issue Fresh on the heels of the 'fear' issue of M/C, this 'urban' issue again raises the politics of fear. The city is perhaps the prime scene and space of fear. Vocabularies of fear produce and generate the meanings in which the city is lived. It might be politically motivated then to claim the city's deemed disorder as liveable. Indeed, many of the contributions to this issue seem to address issues of representing the urban: how do we mark out this terrain for ourselves. As our feature article by Gerard Goggin suggests, the boundaries of the city are a slippery signifier upon which to place any demarcation of urban experience. Divisions such as city and country, urban and suburban, collapse under the weight of the sprawl of human movements and settlements that might more accurately be represented by the concept of the con-urban. While the boundaries of the city are indeed slippery, one of its common limits has been placed at the sub-urban. In Re-writing Suburbia, Emily Bullock brings that often rejected space to bear on considerations of the urban. Tying the suburban to dreams of home ownership and to dreams of nationness, Bullock finds in Suneeta Peres da Costa's recent novel Homework a textual space that subverts the suburban Australian dream without re-invigorating the urban-suburban binary. The limits of how we define urban life are also tested by the question of scale, between the level of individual experience and global paradigm shifts, for example. One way of working through this issue is suggested by David Prater and Sarah Miller, who focus on the paradox of considering the privatised, physically disengaged human behaviour of internet use undertaken within the public space of the internet cafe. Their analysis of this practice points us towards implications for thinking about notions of the public and private in the contemporary city. Chris McConville also examines the limits of the urban via the relationship between what we might conventionally consider to be urban and that which is urbane. Using a reading of some of the classic private detective figures, McConville demonstrates that in the imaginative realm of popular fiction, a figure such as the detective type provides us with many of the images we use to construct representations of our own cityscapes. The link between imagined and real experiences through the medium of popular fiction also crosses over into class and gender constructions, just as the built environment feeds back into the detective fiction genre as one of its conventional parameters. Perhaps it is only inevitable that the politics of fear and the shaping of what Mike Davis calls defensible space characterises so much of urban living and scheming. Coming from an urban planning background, Simon Bennett theorises Brisbane urban planners' inculcation of safety principles and locates this practice in longstanding imaginative and discursive productions of the urban from a number of quarters. The desire to make safe, Bennett argues, banishes from the city the imaginative spur it might otherwise contain and depletes community networks. The city becomes merely a place to which we commute: unliveable but economically functional. Liveability is also at issue in John Scannell's contribution. In his tracing of the graffiti artist's tracing of the American city, Scannell reveals a reappropriation of urban space by those relegated to the urban squalor and left behind in the great American post-war suburban exodus. But, for the graffiti artist, like the underground dweller, urban decay becomes a site of potential and promise: the city as a liveable and intimately habitable space that the graffiti artist inscribes and practices as her own. Life underground, or below the radar of conventional analysis, also interests our next two contributions. Jason Wilson looks to the often overlooked space of the arcade, likening it to modernity's cinematic and spectator spaces. Finding in the game player another urban fringe dweller, Wilson tracks the liminal spatiality of arcades and its practitioners who, he shows, resist the pastoral longings and projections of the game player to a backstreet urban scene. From a more literal perspective, Marise Williams puts the ethics of de Certeau's down below wandersmänner to work to consider the potential offered for those city dwellers who chose to live, quite literally, underground. In her reading of Colum McCann's This Side of Brightness, Williams suggests that a world without slums might potentially amount to a flattened world without difference. But the difficulty resides in the way these spaces are demarcated and bound up in increasingly calcified class lines that the poststructuralist move towards down below and proclamation of the street--to use an explicitly urban metaphor--might be said to efface in imagining the choice to slum (something one does for kicks) as an option available to all. Aaron Darrell is not interested so much in down below as he is with underneath. As he documents the pivotal cultural and colonising role the museum had maintained in ordering urban space and policies of heritage and history, he questions whose history find its way into Sydney's Hyde Park Barracks Musuem. He then invites us to consider what happens when an unexpected, surfaced over history appears and is reclaimed within the discursive and framing apparatus of the institution. Writing the city as he traverses it, Felix Cheong discusses the imaginative spur the city has long provided poets. In a Poet's Sense of the City, Cheong writes about a city in which life in the city can be nothing but. Lacking the props and boundaries of country and suburban, Singapore as city-state fascinates Cheong's poetic insider, yet distanced, perspective. Using the poet's eye, Linda Neil's Sunflowers complicates postmodern pleasurable choices on offer for the mobile flaneuse in a fictive piece that sweeps our readers along its own Mrs. Dallowayesque promenade of Sydney, art, depression and sunflowers. The role of creativity in shaping the production of urban spaces is central to Nityanand Deckha's article on the Cool Britannia phenomenon. Deckha's analysis of BritSpaceTM demonstrates the ephemeral nature of such productions, yet also suggests that creativity lends to such productions their capacity for re-production. The disparate components of the creative quartercopy, print, art supply and film developing stores, hip cafes and restaurants, galleries, studios, loft conversions and street furniture--combine to form a recognizable and potentially iterative matrix, overlaid on existing spaces. The urban is thus a potentially limitless site for expression, even as the confines of the prevailing discourses attempt to limit its scale. City life has been heralded and promoted recently as the space of sex and freedom, despite the dominance of fear in constructions of the urban. Emma Felton takes this dilemma on board in a review of feminist urban theorists and frames her reading of the safe (but risqué) city locally and personally and wonders what delights the city holds for women in the past and for future generations. Felton's reflection on the changing face of the city for women is crucial especially when the city is still related to female sexuality, a metaphorical tendency Felton reveals in a collection of urban commentators and theorists. Links http://www.unhabitat.org/ Citation reference for this article MLA Style Johnson, Laurie and Kulperger, Shelley. "Editorial" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.2 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0205/editorial.php>. Chicago Style Johnson, Laurie and Kulperger, Shelley, "Editorial" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 2 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0205/editorial.php> ([your date of access]). APA Style Johnson, Laurie and Kulperger, Shelley. (2002) Editorial. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(2). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0205/editorial.php> ([your date of access]).

Introduction This article is a study in anxiety with regard to social online spaces (SOS) conceived of as dark. There are two possible ways to define ‘dark’ in this context. The first is that communication is dark because it either has limited distribution, is not open to all users (closed groups are a case example) or hidden. The second definition, linked as a result of the first, is the way that communication via these means is interpreted and understood. Dark social spaces disrupt the accepted top-down flow by the ‘gazing elite’ (data aggregators including social media), but anxious users might need to strain to notice what is out there, and this in turn destabilises one’s reception of the scene. In an environment where surveillance technologies are proliferating, this article examines contemporary, dark, interconnected, and interactive communications for the entangled affordances that might be brought to bear. A provocation is that resistance through counterveillance or “sousveillance” is one possibility. An alternative (or addition) is retreating to or building ‘dark’ spaces that are less surveilled and (perhaps counterintuitively) less fearful. This article considers critically the notion of dark social online spaces via four broad socio-technical concerns connected to the big social media services that have helped increase a tendency for fearful anxiety produced by surveillance and the perceived implications for personal privacy. It also shines light on the aspect of darkness where some users are spurred to actively seek alternative, dark social online spaces. Since the 1970s, public-key cryptosystems typically preserved security for websites, emails, and sensitive health, government, and military data, but this is now reduced (Williams). We have seen such systems exploited via cyberattacks and misappropriated data acquired by affiliations such as Facebook-Cambridge Analytica for targeted political advertising during the 2016 US elections. Via the notion of “parasitic strategies”, such events can be described as news/information hacks “whose attack vectors target a system’s weak points with the help of specific strategies” (von Nordheim and Kleinen-von Königslöw, 88). In accord with Wilson and Serisier’s arguments (178), emerging technologies facilitate rapid data sharing, collection, storage, and processing wherein subsequent “outcomes are unpredictable”. This would also include the effect of acquiescence. In regard to our digital devices, for some, being watched overtly—through cameras encased in toys, computers, and closed-circuit television (CCTV) to digital street ads that determine the resonance of human emotions in public places including bus stops, malls, and train stations—is becoming normalised (McStay, Emotional AI). It might appear that consumers immersed within this Internet of Things (IoT) are themselves comfortable interacting with devices that record sound and capture images for easy analysis and distribution across the communications networks. A counter-claim is that mainstream social media corporations have cultivated a sense of digital resignation “produced when people desire to control the information digital entities have about them but feel unable to do so” (Draper and Turow, 1824). Careful consumers’ trust in mainstream media is waning, with readers observing a strong presence of big media players in the industry and are carefully picking their publications and public intellectuals to follow (Mahmood, 6). A number now also avoid the mainstream internet in favour of alternate dark sites. This is done by users with “varying backgrounds, motivations and participation behaviours that may be idiosyncratic (as they are rooted in the respective person’s biography and circumstance)” (Quandt, 42). By way of connection with dark internet studies via Biddle et al. (1; see also Lasica), the “darknet” is a collection of networks and technologies used to share digital content … not a separate physical network but an application and protocol layer riding on existing networks. Examples of darknets are peer-to-peer file sharing, CD and DVD copying, and key or password sharing on email and newsgroups. As we note from the quote above, the “dark web” uses existing public and private networks that facilitate communication via the Internet. Gehl (1220; see also Gehl and McKelvey) has detailed that this includes “hidden sites that end in ‘.onion’ or ‘.i2p’ or other Top-Level Domain names only available through modified browsers or special software. Accessing I2P sites requires a special routing program ... . Accessing .onion sites requires Tor [The Onion Router]”. For some, this gives rise to social anxiety, read here as stemming from that which is not known, and an exaggerated sense of danger, which makes fight or flight seem the only options. This is often justified or exacerbated by the changing media and communication landscape and depicted in popular documentaries such as The Social Dilemma or The Great Hack, which affect public opinion on the unknown aspects of internet spaces and the uses of personal data. The question for this article remains whether the fear of the dark is justified. Consider that most often one will choose to make one’s intimate bedroom space dark in order to have a good night’s rest. We might pleasurably escape into a cinema’s darkness for the stories told therein, or walk along a beach at night enjoying unseen breezes. Most do not avoid these experiences, choosing to actively seek them out. Drawing this thread, then, is the case made here that agency can also be found in the dark by resisting socio-political structural harms. 1. Digital Futures and Anxiety of the Dark Fear of the darkI have a constant fear that something's always nearFear of the darkFear of the darkI have a phobia that someone's always there In the lyrics to the song “Fear of the Dark” (1992) by British heavy metal group Iron Maiden is a sense that that which is unknown and unseen causes fear and anxiety. Holding a fear of the dark is not unusual and varies in degree for adults as it does for children (Fellous and Arbib). Such anxiety connected to the dark does not always concern darkness itself. It can also be a concern for the possible or imagined dangers that are concealed by the darkness itself as a result of cognitive-emotional interactions (McDonald, 16). Extending this claim is this article’s non-binary assertion that while for some technology and what it can do is frequently misunderstood and shunned as a result, for others who embrace the possibilities and actively take it on it is learning by attentively partaking. Mistakes, solecism, and frustrations are part of the process. Such conceptual theorising falls along a continuum of thinking. Global interconnectivity of communications networks has certainly led to consequent concerns (Turkle Alone Together). Much focus for anxiety has been on the impact upon social and individual inner lives, levels of media concentration, and power over and commercialisation of the internet. Of specific note is that increasing commercial media influence—such as Facebook and its acquisition of WhatsApp, Oculus VR, Instagram, CRTL-labs (translating movements and neural impulses into digital signals), LiveRail (video advertising technology), Chainspace (Blockchain)—regularly changes the overall dynamics of the online environment (Turow and Kavanaugh). This provocation was born out recently when Facebook disrupted the delivery of news to Australian audiences via its service. Mainstream social online spaces (SOS) are platforms which provide more than the delivery of media alone and have been conceptualised predominantly in a binary light. On the one hand, they can be depicted as tools for the common good of society through notional widespread access and as places for civic participation and discussion, identity expression, education, and community formation (Turkle; Bruns; Cinque and Brown; Jenkins). This end of the continuum of thinking about SOS seems set hard against the view that SOS are operating as businesses with strategies that manipulate consumers to generate revenue through advertising, data, venture capital for advanced research and development, and company profit, on the other hand. In between the two polar ends of this continuum are the range of other possibilities, the shades of grey, that add contemporary nuance to understanding SOS in regard to what they facilitate, what the various implications might be, and for whom. By way of a brief summary, anxiety of the dark is steeped in the practices of privacy-invasive social media giants such as Facebook and its ancillary companies. Second are the advertising technology companies, surveillance contractors, and intelligence agencies that collect and monitor our actions and related data; as well as the increased ease of use and interoperability brought about by Web 2.0 that has seen a disconnection between technological infrastructure and social connection that acts to limit user permissions and online affordances. Third are concerns for the negative effects associated with depressed mental health and wellbeing caused by “psychologically damaging social networks”, through sleep loss, anxiety, poor body image, real world relationships, and the fear of missing out (FOMO; Royal Society for Public Health (UK) and the Young Health Movement). Here the harms are both individual and societal. Fourth is the intended acceleration toward post-quantum IoT (Fernández-Caramés), as quantum computing’s digital components are continually being miniaturised. This is coupled with advances in electrical battery capacity and interconnected telecommunications infrastructures. The result of such is that the ontogenetic capacity of the powerfully advanced network/s affords supralevel surveillance. What this means is that through devices and the services that they provide, individuals’ data is commodified (Neff and Nafus; Nissenbaum and Patterson). Personal data is enmeshed in ‘things’ requiring that the decisions that are both overt, subtle, and/or hidden (dark) are scrutinised for the various ways they shape social norms and create consequences for public discourse, cultural production, and the fabric of society (Gillespie). Data and personal information are retrievable from devices, sharable in SOS, and potentially exposed across networks. For these reasons, some have chosen to go dark by being “off the grid”, judiciously selecting their means of communications and their ‘friends’ carefully. 2. Is There Room for Privacy Any More When Everyone in SOS Is Watching? An interesting turn comes through counterarguments against overarching institutional surveillance that underscore the uses of technologies to watch the watchers. This involves a practice of counter-surveillance whereby technologies are tools of resistance to go ‘dark’ and are used by political activists in protest situations for both communication and avoiding surveillance. This is not new and has long existed in an increasingly dispersed media landscape (Cinque, Changing Media Landscapes). For example, counter-surveillance video footage has been accessed and made available via live-streaming channels, with commentary in SOS augmenting networking possibilities for niche interest groups or micropublics (Wilson and Serisier, 178). A further example is the Wordpress site Fitwatch, appealing for an end to what the site claims are issues associated with police surveillance (fitwatch.org.uk and endpolicesurveillance.wordpress.com). Users of these sites are called to post police officers’ identity numbers and photographs in an attempt to identify “cops” that might act to “misuse” UK Anti-terrorism legislation against activists during legitimate protests. Others that might be interested in doing their own “monitoring” are invited to reach out to identified personal email addresses or other private (dark) messaging software and application services such as Telegram (freeware and cross-platform). In their work on surveillance, Mann and Ferenbok (18) propose that there is an increase in “complex constructs between power and the practices of seeing, looking, and watching/sensing in a networked culture mediated by mobile/portable/wearable computing devices and technologies”. By way of critical definition, Mann and Ferenbok (25) clarify that “where the viewer is in a position of power over the subject, this is considered surveillance, but where the viewer is in a lower position of power, this is considered sousveillance”. It is the aspect of sousveillance that is empowering to those using dark SOS. One might consider that not all surveillance is “bad” nor institutionalised. It is neither overtly nor formally regulated—as yet. Like most technologies, many of the surveillant technologies are value-neutral until applied towards specific uses, according to Mann and Ferenbok (18). But this is part of the ‘grey area’ for understanding the impact of dark SOS in regard to which actors or what nations are developing tools for surveillance, where access and control lies, and with what effects into the future. 3. Big Brother Watches, So What Are the Alternatives: Whither the Gazing Elite in Dark SOS? By way of conceptual genealogy, consideration of contemporary perceptions of surveillance in a visually networked society (Cinque, Changing Media Landscapes) might be usefully explored through a revisitation of Jeremy Bentham’s panopticon, applied here as a metaphor for contemporary surveillance. Arguably, this is a foundational theoretical model for integrated methods of social control (Foucault, Surveiller et Punir, 192-211), realised in the “panopticon” (prison) in 1787 by Jeremy Bentham (Bentham and Božovič, 29-95) during a period of social reformation aimed at the improvement of the individual. Like the power for social control over the incarcerated in a panopticon, police power, in order that it be effectively exercised, “had to be given the instrument of permanent, exhaustive, omnipresent surveillance, capable of making all visible … like a faceless gaze that transformed the whole social body into a field of perception” (Foucault, Surveiller et Punir, 213–4). In grappling with the impact of SOS for the individual and the collective in post-digital times, we can trace out these early ruminations on the complex documentary organisation through state-controlled apparatuses (such as inspectors and paid observers including “secret agents”) via Foucault (Surveiller et Punir, 214; Subject and Power, 326-7) for comparison to commercial operators like Facebook. Today, artificial intelligence (AI), facial recognition technology (FRT), and closed-circuit television (CCTV) for video surveillance are used for social control of appropriate behaviours. Exemplified by governments and the private sector is the use of combined technologies to maintain social order, from ensuring citizens cross the street only on green lights, to putting rubbish in the correct recycling bin or be publicly shamed, to making cashless payments in stores. The actions see advantages for individual and collective safety, sustainability, and convenience, but also register forms of behaviour and attitudes with predictive capacities. This gives rise to suspicions about a permanent account of individuals’ behaviour over time. Returning to Foucault (Surveiller et Punir, 135), the impact of this finds a dissociation of power from the individual, whereby they become unwittingly impelled into pre-existing social structures, leading to a ‘normalisation’ and acceptance of such systems. If we are talking about the dark, anxiety is key for a Ministry of SOS. Following Foucault again (Subject and Power, 326-7), there is the potential for a crawling, creeping governance that was once distinct but is itself increasingly hidden and growing. A blanket call for some form of ongoing scrutiny of such proliferating powers might be warranted, but with it comes regulation that, while offering certain rights and protections, is not without consequences. For their part, a number of SOS platforms had little to no moderation for explicit content prior to December 2018, and in terms of power, notwithstanding important anxiety connected to arguments that children and the vulnerable need protections from those that would seek to take advantage, this was a crucial aspect of community building and self-expression that resulted in this freedom of expression. In unearthing the extent that individuals are empowered arising from the capacity to post sexual self-images, Tiidenberg ("Bringing Sexy Back") considered that through dark SOS (read here as unregulated) some users could work in opposition to the mainstream consumer culture that provides select and limited representations of bodies and their sexualities. This links directly to Mondin’s exploration of the abundance of queer and feminist pornography on dark SOS as a “counterpolitics of visibility” (288). This work resulted in a reasoned claim that the technological structure of dark SOS created a highly political and affective social space that users valued. What also needs to be underscored is that many users also believed that such a space could not be replicated on other mainstream SOS because of the differences in architecture and social norms. Cho (47) worked with this theory to claim that dark SOS are modern-day examples in a history of queer individuals having to rely on “underground economies of expression and relation”. Discussions such as these complicate what dark SOS might now become in the face of ‘adult’ content moderation and emerging tracking technologies to close sites or locate individuals that transgress social norms. Further, broader questions are raised about how content moderation fits in with the public space conceptualisations of SOS more generally. Increasingly, “there is an app for that” where being able to identify the poster of an image or an author of an unknown text is seen as crucial. While there is presently no standard approach, models for combining instance-based and profile-based features such as SVM for determining authorship attribution are in development, with the result that potentially far less content will remain hidden in the future (Bacciu et al.). 4. There’s Nothing New under the Sun (Ecclesiastes 1:9) For some, “[the] high hopes regarding the positive impact of the Internet and digital participation in civic society have faded” (Schwarzenegger, 99). My participant observation over some years in various SOS, however, finds that critical concern has always existed. Views move along the spectrum of thinking from deep scepticisms (Stoll, Silicon Snake Oil) to wondrous techo-utopian promises (Negroponte, Being Digital). Indeed, concerns about the (then) new technologies of wireless broadcasting can be compared with today’s anxiety over the possible effects of the internet and SOS. Inglis (7) recalls, here, too, were fears that humanity was tampering with some dangerous force; might wireless wave be causing thunderstorms, droughts, floods? Sterility or strokes? Such anxieties soon evaporated; but a sense of mystery might stay longer with evangelists for broadcasting than with a laity who soon took wireless for granted and settled down to enjoy the products of a process they need not understand. As the analogy above makes clear, just as audiences came to use ‘the wireless’ and later the internet regularly, it is reasonable to argue that dark SOS will also gain widespread understanding and find greater acceptance. Dark social spaces are simply the recent development of internet connectivity and communication more broadly. The dark SOS afford choice to be connected beyond mainstream offerings, which some users avoid for their perceived manipulation of content and user both. As part of the wider array of dark web services, the resilience of dark social spaces is reinforced by the proliferation of users as opposed to decentralised replication. Virtual Private Networks (VPNs) can be used for anonymity in parallel to TOR access, but they guarantee only anonymity to the client. A VPN cannot guarantee anonymity to the server or the internet service provider (ISP). While users may use pseudonyms rather than actual names as seen on Facebook and other SOS, users continue to take to the virtual spaces they inhabit their off-line, ‘real’ foibles, problems, and idiosyncrasies (Chenault). To varying degrees, however, people also take their best intentions to their interactions in the dark. The hyper-efficient tools now deployed can intensify this, which is the great advantage attracting some users. In balance, however, in regard to online information access and dissemination, critical examination of what is in the public’s interest, and whether content should be regulated or controlled versus allowing a free flow of information where users self-regulate their online behaviour, is fraught. O’Loughlin (604) was one of the first to claim that there will be voluntary loss through negative liberty or freedom from (freedom from unwanted information or influence) and an increase in positive liberty or freedom to (freedom to read or say anything); hence, freedom from surveillance and interference is a kind of negative liberty, consistent with both libertarianism and liberalism. Conclusion The early adopters of initial iterations of SOS were hopeful and liberal (utopian) in their beliefs about universality and ‘free’ spaces of open communication between like-minded others. This was a way of virtual networking using a visual motivation (led by images, text, and sounds) for consequent interaction with others (Cinque, Visual Networking). The structural transformation of the public sphere in a Habermasian sense—and now found in SOS and their darker, hidden or closed social spaces that might ensure a counterbalance to the power of those with influence—towards all having equal access to platforms for presenting their views, and doing so respectfully, is as ever problematised. Broadly, this is no more so, however, than for mainstream SOS or for communicating in the world. References Bacciu, Andrea, Massimo La Morgia, Alessandro Mei, Eugenio Nerio Nemmi, Valerio Neri, and Julinda Stefa. “Cross-Domain Authorship Attribution Combining Instance Based and Profile-Based Features.” CLEF (Working Notes). Lugano, Switzerland, 9-12 Sep. 2019. Bentham, Jeremy, and Miran Božovič. The Panopticon Writings. London: Verso Trade, 1995. 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Setting the Mood Weirdly, everything feels the same. There’s absolutely no distinction for me between news, work, walking, gaming, Netflix, rock collecting, scrolling, messaging. I don’t know how this happened, but everything has simply blurred together. There’s a dreadful and yet soothing sameness to it, scrolling through images on Instagram, scrolling Netflix, walking the dog, scrolling the news, time scrolling by as I watch face after face appear or disappear on my screen, all saying something, yet saying nothing. Is this the rhythm of crisis in a slow apocalypse? Really, would it be possible for humans to just bore themselves into oblivion? Because in the middle of a pandemic, boredom feels in my body the same as doom ... just another swell that passes, like my chest as it rises and falls with my breath. This opening anecdote comes from combining narratives in two studies we conducted online during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020: a global study, Massive and Microscopic Sensemaking: Autoethnographic Accounts of Lived Experience in Times of Global Trauma; and an Australian project, The Shut-In Worker: Working from Home and Digitally-Enabled Labour Practices. The Shut-In Worker project aimed to investigate the thoughts, beliefs, and experiences of Australian knowledge workers working from home during lockdown. From June to October 2020, we recruited twelve households across two Australian states. While the sample included households with diverse incomes and living arrangements—from metropolitan single person apartment dwellers to regional families in free standing households—the majority were relatively privileged. The households included in this study were predominantly Anglo-Australian and highly educated. Critically, unlike many during COVID-19, these householders had maintained their salaried work. Participating households took part in an initial interview via Zoom or Microsoft Teams during which they took us on workplace tours, showing us where and how the domestic had been requisitioned for salaried labour. Householders subsequently kept digital diaries of their working days ahead of follow up interviews in which we got them to reflect on their past few weeks working from home with reference to the textual and photographic diaries they had shared with us. In contrast to the tight geographic focus of The Shut-In Worker project and its fairly conventional methodology, the Massive and Microscopic Sensemaking project was envisaged as a global project and driven by an experimental participant-led approach. Involving more than 150 people from 26 countries during 2020, the project was grounded in autoethnography practice and critical pedagogy. Over 21 days, we offered self-guided prompts for ourselves and the other participants—a wide range of creative practitioners, scholar activists, and researchers—to explore their own lived experience. Participants with varying degrees of experience with qualitative methods and/or autoethnography started working with the research questions we had posed in our call; some independently, some in collaboration. The autoethnographic lens used in our study encouraged contributors to document their experience from and through their bodies, their situated daily routines, and their relations with embedded, embodied, and ubiquitous digital technologies. The lens enabled deep exploration and evocation of many of the complexities, profound paradoxes, fears, and hopes that characterise the human and machinic entanglements that bring us together and separate the planetary “us” in this moment (Markham et al. 2020). In this essay we draw on anecdotes and narratives from both studies that speak to the “Zoom experience” during COVID-19. That is, we use Zoom as a socio-technical pivot point to think about how the experience of liminality—of being on/off screen and ambiently in between—is operating to shift both our micro practices and macro structures as we experience and struggle within the rupture, “event”, and conjuncture that marks the global pandemic. What we will see is that many of those narratives depict disjointed, blurry, or confusing experiences, atmospheres, and affects. These liminal experiences are entangled in complex ways with the distinctive forms of commercial infrastructure and software that scaffold video conferencing platforms such as Zoom. Part of what is both enabling and troubling about the key proprietary platforms that increasingly host “public” participation and conversation online (and that came to play a dominant role during COVID19) in the context of what Tarleton Gillespie calls “the internet of platforms” is a sense of the hidden logics behind such platforms. The constant sense of potential dis/connection—with home computers becoming ambient portals to external others—also saw a wider experience of boundarylessness evoked by participants. Across our studies there was a sense of a complete breakdown between many pre-existing boundaries (or at least dotted lines) around work, school, play, leisure and fitness, public and media engagement, and home life. At the same time, the vocabulary of confinement and lockdown emerged from the imposition of physical boundaries or distancing between the self and others, between home and the outside world. During the “connected confinement” of COVID-19, study participants commonly expressed an affective sensation of dysphoria, with this new state of in betweenness or disorientation on and off screen, in and out of Zoom meetings, that characterises the COVID-19 experience seen by many as a temporary, unpleasant disruption to sociality as usual. Our contention is that, as disturbing as many of our experiences are and have been during lockdown, there is an important, ethically and politically generative dimension to our global experiences of liminality, and we should hold on to this state of de-normalisation. Much ink has been spilled on the generalised, global experience of videoconferencing during the COVID-19 pandemic. A line of argument within this commentary speaks to the mental challenge and exhaustion—or zoom fatigue as it is now popularly termed—that many have been experiencing in attempting to work, learn, and live collectively via interactive screen technologies. We suggest zoom fatigue stands in for a much larger set of global social challenges—a complex conjuncture of microscopic ruptures, decisions within many critical junctures or turning points, and slow shifts in how we see and make sense of the world around us. If culture is habit writ large, what should we make of the new habits we are building, or the revelations that our prior ways of being in the world might not suit our present planetary needs, and maybe never did? Thus, we counter the current dominant narrative that people, regions, and countries should move on, pivot, or do whatever else it takes to transition to a “new normal”. Instead, drawing on the work of Haraway and others interested in more than human, post-anthropocenic thinking about the future, this essay contends that—on a dying planet facing major global challenges—we need to be embracing liminality and “staying with the trouble” if we are to hope to work together to imagine and create better worlds. This is not necessarily an easy step but we explore liminality and the affective components of Zoom fatigue here to challenge the assumption that stability and certainty is what we now need as a global community. If the comfort experienced by a chosen few in pre-COVID-19 times was bought at the cost of many “others” (human and more than human), how can we use the discomfort of liminality to imagine global futures that have radically transformative possibilities? On Liminality Because liminality is deeply affective and experienced both individually and collectively, it is a difficult feeling or state to put into words, much less generalised terms. It marks the uncanny or unstable experience of existing between. Being in a liminal state is marked by a profound disruption of one’s sense of self, one’s phenomenological being in the world, and in relation to others. Zoom, in and of itself, provokes a liminal experience. As this participant says: Zoom is so disorienting. I mean this literally; in that I cannot find a solid orientation toward other people. What’s worse is that I realize everyone has a different view, so we can’t even be sure of what other people might be seeing on their screen. In a real room this would not be an issue at all. The concept of liminality originally came out of attempts to capture the sense of flux and transition, rather than stasis, that shapes culture and community, exemplified during rites of passage. First developed in the early twentieth century by ethnographer and folklorist Arnold van Gennep, it was later taken up and expanded upon by British anthropologist Victor Turner. Turner, best known for his work on cultural rituals and rites of passage, describes liminality as the sense of “in betweenness” experienced as one moves from one status (say that of a child) to another (formal recognition of adulthood). For Turner, community life and the formation of societies more broadly involves periods of transition, threshold moments in which both structures and anti-structures become apparent. Bringing liminality into the contemporary digital moment, Zizi Papacharissi discusses the concept in collective terms as pertaining to the affective states of networked publics, particularly visible in the development of new social and political formations through wide scale social media responses to the Arab Spring. Liminality in this context describes the “not yet”, a state of “pre-emergence” or “emergence” of unformed potentiality. In this usage, Papacharissi builds on Turner’s description of liminality as “a realm of pure possibility whence novel configurations of ideas and relations may arise” (97). The pandemic has sparked another moment of liminality. Here, we conceptualise liminality as a continuous dialectical process of being pushed and pulled in various directions, which does not necessarily resolve into a stable state or position. Shifting one’s entire lifeworld into and onto computer screens and the micro screens of Zoom, as experienced by many around the world, collapses the usual functioning norms that maintain some degree of distinction between the social, intimate, political, and work spheres of everyday life. But this shift also creates new boundaries and new rules of engagement. As a result, people in our studies often talked about experiencing competing realities about “where” they are, and/or a feeling of being tugged by contradictory or competing forces that, because they cannot be easily resolved, keep us in an unsettled, uncomfortable state of being in the world. Here the dysphoric experiences associated not just with digital liminality but with the broader COVID-19 epidemiological-socio-political conjuncture are illustrated by Sianne Ngai’s work on the politics of affect and “ugly feelings” in the context of capitalism’s relentlessly affirmative culture. Rather than dismissing the vague feelings of unease that, for many of us, go hand in hand with late modern life, Ngai suggests that such generalised and dispersed affective states are important markers of and guides to the big social and cultural problems of our time—the injustices, inequalities, and alienating effects of late capitalism. While critical attention tends to be paid to more powerful emotions such as anger and fear, Ngai argues that softer and more nebulous forms of negative affect—from envy and anxiety to paranoia—can tell us much about the structures, institutions, and practices that frame social action. These enabling and constraining processes occur at different and intersecting levels. At the micro level of the screen interface, jarring experiences can set us to wondering about where we are (on or off screen, in place and space), how we appear to others, and whether or not we should showcase and highlight our “presence”. We have been struck by how people in our studies expressed the sense of being handled or managed by the interfaces of Zoom or Microsoft Teams, which frame people in grid layouts, yet can shift and alter these frames in unanticipated ways. I hate Zoom. Everything about it. Sometimes I see a giant person, shoved to the front of the meeting in “speaker view” to appear larger than anyone else on the screen. People constantly appear and disappear, popping in and out. Sometimes, Zoom just rearranges people seemingly randomly. People commonly experience themselves or others being resized, frozen, or “glitched”, muted, accidentally unmuted, suddenly disconnected, or relegated to the second or third “page” of attendees. Those of us who attend many meetings as a part of work or education may enjoy the anonymity of appearing at a meeting without our faces or bodies, only appearing to others as a nearly blank square or circle, perhaps with a notation of our name and whether or not we are muted. Being on the third page of participants means we are out of sight, for better or worse. For some, being less visible is a choice, even a tactic. For others, it is not a choice, but based on lack of access to a fast or stable Internet connection. The experience and impact of these micro elements of presence within the digital moment differs, depending on where you appear to others in the interface, how much power you have over the shape or flow of the interaction or interface settings, or what your role is. Moving beyond the experience of the interface and turning to the middle range between micro and macro worlds, participants speak of attempting to manage blurred or completely collapsed boundaries between “here” and “there”. Being neither completely at work or school nor completely at home means finding new ways of negotiating the intimate and the formal, the domestic and the public. This delineation is for many not a matter of carving out specific times or spaces for each, but rather a process of shifting back and forth between makeshift boundaries that may be temporal or spatial, depending on various aspects of one’s situation. Many of us most likely could see the traces of this continuous shifting back and forth via what Susan Leigh Star called “boundary objects”. While she may not have intended this concept in such concrete terms, we could see these literally, in the often humorous but significantly disruptive introduction of various domestic actants during school or work, such as pets, children, partners, laundry baskets, beds, distinctive home decor, ambient noise, etc. Other trends highlight the difficulty of maintaining zones of work and school when these overlap with the rest of the physical household. One might place Post-it Notes on the kitchen wall saying “I’m in a Zoom meeting so don’t come into the living room” or blur one’s screen background to obscure one’s domestic location. These are all strategies of maintaining ontological security in an otherwise chaotic process of being both here and there, and neither here nor there. Yet even with these strategies, there is a constant dialectical liminality at play. In none of these examples do participants feel like they are either at home or at work; instead, they are constantly shifting in between, trying to balance, or straddling physical and virtual, public and private, in terms of social “roles” and “locations”. These negotiations highlight the “ongoingness” of and the labour involved in maintaining some semblance of balance within what is inherently an unbalanced dialectical process. Participants talked about and showed in their diaries and pictures developed for the research projects the ways they act through, work with, or sometimes just try to ignore these opposing states. The rise of home-based videoconferencing and associated boundary management practices have also highlighted what has been marginalised or forgotten and conversely, prioritised or valorised in prior sociotechnical assemblages that were simply taken for granted. Take for example the everyday practices of being in a work versus domestic lifeworld; deciding how to handle the labor of cleaning cups and dishes used by the “employees” and “students” in the family throughout the day, the tasks of enforcing school attendance by children attending classes in the family home etc. This increased consciousness—at both a household and more public level—of a previously often invisible and feminised care economy speaks to larger questions raised by the lockdown experience. At the same time as people in our studies were negotiating the glitches of screen presence and the weird boundarylessness of home-leisure-domestic-school-work life, many expressed an awareness of a troubling bigger picture. First, we had just the COVID lockdowns, you know, that time where many of us were seemingly “all together” in this, at home watching Tiger King, putting neighborly messages in our windows, or sharing sourdough recipes on social media. Then Black Lives Matters movements happened. Suddenly attention is shifted to the fact that we’re not all in this together. In Melbourne, people in social housing towers got abruptly locked down without even the chance to go to the store for food first, and yet somehow the wealthy or celebrity types are not under this heavy surveillance; they can just skip the mandatory quarantine. ... We can’t just go on with things as usual ... there are so many considerations now. Narratives like these suggest that while 2020 might have begun with the pandemic, the year raised multiple other issues. As many things have been destabilised, the nature or practice of everyday life is shifting under our feet. Around the world, people are learning how to remain more distanced from each other, and the rhythms of temporal and geographic movement are adapting to an era of the pandemic. Simultaneously, many people talk about an endlessly arriving (but never quite here) moment when things will be back to normal, implying not only that this feeling of uncertainty will fade, but also that the zone of comfort is in what was known and experienced previously, rather than in a state of something radically different. This sentiment is strong despite the general agreement that “we will never [be able to] go back to how it was, but [must] proceed to some ‘new normal’”. Still, as the participant above suggests, the pandemic has also offered a much broader challenge to wider, taken-for-granted social, political, and economic structures that underpin late capitalist nations in particular. The question then becomes: How do we imagine “moving on” from the pandemic, while learning from the disruptive yet critical moment it has offered us as a global community? Learning from Liminality I don’t want us to go back to “normal”, if that means we are just all commuting in our carbon spitting cars to work and back or traveling endlessly and without a care for the planet. COVID has made my life better. Not having to drive an hour each way to work every day—that’s a massive benefit. While it’s been a struggle, the tradeoff is spending more time with loved ones—it’s a better quality of life, we have to rethink the place of work. I can’t believe how much more I’ve been involved in huge discussions about politics and society and the planet. None of this would have been on my radar pre-COVID. What would it mean then to live with as well as learn from the reflexive sense of being and experience associated with the dis-comforts of living on and off screen, a Zoom liminality, if you will? These statements from participants speak precisely to the budding consciousness of new potential ways of being in a post-COVID-19 world. They come from a place of discomfort and represent dialectic tensions that perhaps should not be shrugged off or too easily resolved. Indeed, how might we consider this as the preferred state, rather than being simply a “rite of passage” that implies some pathway toward more stable identities and structured ways of being? The varied concepts of “becoming”, “not quite yet”, “boundary work”, or “staying with the trouble”, elaborated by Karen Barad, Andrew Pickering, Susan Leigh Star, and Donna Haraway respectively, all point to ways of being, acting, and thinking through and with liminality. All these thinkers are linked by their championing of murky and mangled conceptions of experience and more than human relations. Challenging notions of the bounded individual of rational humanism, these post-human scholars offer an often-uncomfortable picture of being in and through multiplicity, of modes of agency born out of a slippage between the one and the many. While, as we noted above, this experience of in betweenness and entanglement is often linked to emotions we perceive as negative, “ugly feelings”, for Barad et al., such liminal moments offer fundamentally productive and experimental modalities that enable possibilities for new configurations of being and doing the social in the anthropocene. Further, liminality as a concept potentially becomes radically progressive when it is seen as both critically appraising the constructed and conventional nature of prior patterns of living and offering a range of reflexive alternatives. People in our studies spoke of the pandemic moment as offering tantalizing glimpses of what kinder, more caring, and egalitarian futures might look like. At the same time, many were also surprised by (and skeptical of) the banality and randomness of the rise of commercial platforms like Zoom as a “choice” for being with others in this current lifeworld, emerging as it did as an ad hoc, quick solution that met the demands of the moment. Zoom fatigue then also suggests a discomfort about somehow being expected to fully incorporate proprietary platforms like Zoom and their algorithmic logics as a core way of living and being in the post-COVID-19 world. In this sense the fact that a specific platform has become a branded eponym for the experience of online public communicative fatigue is telling indeed. The unease around the centrality of video conferencing to everyday life during COVID-19 can in part be seen as a marker of anxieties about the growing role of decentralized, private platforms in “replacing or merging with public infrastructure, [thereby] creating new social effects” (Lee). Further, jokes and off-hand comments by study participants about their messy domestic interiors being publicized via social media or their boss monitoring when they are on and offline speak to larger concerns around surveillance and privacy in online spaces, particularly communicative environments where unregulated private platforms rather than public infrastructures are becoming the default norm. But just as people are both accepting of and troubled by a growing sense of inevitability about Zoom, we also saw them experimenting with a range of other ways of being with others, from online cocktail parties to experimenting with more playful and creative apps and platforms. What these participants have shown us is the need to “stay with the trouble” or remain in this liminal space as long as possible. While we do not have the space to discuss this possibility in this short provocation, Haraway sees this experimental mode of being as involving multiple actants, human and nonhuman, and as constituting important work in terms of speculating and figuring with various “what if” scenarios to generate new possible futures. As Haraway puts it, this process of speculative figuring is one of giving and receiving patterns, dropping threads, and so mostly failing but sometimes finding something that works, something consequential and maybe even beautiful, that wasn’t there before, of relaying connections that matter, of telling stories in hand upon hand, digit upon digit, attachment site upon attachment site, to craft conditions for flourishing in terran worlding. This struggle of course takes us far beyond decisions about Zoom, specifically. This deliberately troubling liminality is a process of recognizing old habits, building new ones, doing the hard work of reconsidering broader social formations in a future that promises more trouble. Governments, institutions, corporate entities, and even social movements like Transition Towns or #BuildBackBetter all seem to be calling for getting out of this liminal zone, whether this is to “bounce back” by returning to hyper-consumerist, wasteful, profit-driven modes of life or the opposite, to “bounce forward” to radically rethink globalization and build intensely localized personal and social formations. Perhaps a third alternative is to embrace this very transitional experience itself and consider whether life on a troubled, perhaps dying planet might require our discomfort, unease, and in-betweenness, including acknowledging and sometimes embracing “glitches” and failures (Nunes). Transitionality, or more broadly liminality, has the potential to enhance our understanding of who and what “we” are, or perhaps more crucially who “we” might become, by encompassing a kind of dialectic in relation to the experiences of others, both intimate and distant. As many critical commentators before us have suggested, this necessarily involves working in conjunction with a rich ecology of planetary agents from First People’s actors and knowledge systems--a range of social agents who already know what it is to be liminal to landscapes and other species--through and with the enabling affordances of digital technologies. This is an important, and exhausting, process of change. And perhaps this trouble is something to hang on to as long as possible, as it preoccupies us with wondering about what is happening in the lines between our faces, the lines of the technologies underpinning our interactions, the taken for granted structures on and off screen that have been visibilized. We are fatigued, not by the time we spend online, although there is that, too, but by the recognition that the world is changing. References Barad, Karen. Meeting the Universe Halfway: Quantum Physics and the Entanglement of Matter and Meaning. Duke UP, 2006. Gillespie, Tarleton. Custodians of the Internet: Platforms, Content Moderation, and the Hidden Decisions That Shape Social Media. Yale UP 2018. Haraway, Donna J. “SF: Science Fiction, Speculative Fabulation, String Figures, So Far.” Ada New Media 3 (2013). <http://adanewmedia.org/2013/11/issue3-haraway>. Lee, Ashlin. “In the Shadow of Platforms: Challenges and Opportunities for the Shadow of Hierarchy in the Age of Platforms and Datafication.” M/C Journal 24.2 (2021). <http://doi.org/10.5204/mcj.2750>. Markham, Annette N., et al. “Massive and Microscopic Sensemaking during COVID-19 Times.” Qualitative Inquiry Oct. 2020. <https://doi.org/10.1177/1077800420962477>. Ngai, Sianne. Ugly Feelings. Harvard UP, 2005. Nunes, Mark. Error, Glitch, Noise and Jam in New Media Cultures. Bloomsbury, 2012. Papacharissi, Zizi. Affective Publics: Sentiment, Technology, and Politics. Oxford UP, 2015. Pickering, Andrew. “The Mangle of Practice: Agency and Emergence in the Sociology of Science.” American Journal of Sociology 99.3 (1993): 559-89. Star, Susan Leigh. “The Structure of Ill-Structured Solutions: Boundary Objects and Heterogeneous Distributed Problem Solving.” Readings in Distributed Artificial Intelligence. Eds. Les Gasser and Michael N. Huhns. Kaufman, 1989. 37-54. Turner, Victor. “Betwixt and Between: The Liminal Period in Rites de Passage.” The Forests of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual. Cornell UP, 1967. 93-111. Turner, Victor. “Liminality and Communitas”. The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure. Chicago: Al<line Publishing, 1969. 94-113, 125-30.

Practically any good story follows certain narrative conventions in order to hold its readers' attention and leave them with a feeling of satisfaction -- this goes for fictional tales as well as for many news reports (we do tend to call them 'news stories', after all), for idle gossip as well as for academic papers. In the Western tradition of storytelling, it's customary to start with the exposition, build up to major events, and end with some form of narrative closure. Indeed, audience members will feel disturbed if there is no sense of closure at the end -- their desire for closure is a powerful one. From this brief description of narrative patterns it is also clear that such narratives depend crucially on linear progression through the story in order to work -- there may be flashbacks and flashforwards, but very few stories, it seems, could get away with beginning with their point of closure, and work back to the exposition. Closure, as the word suggests, closes the story, and once reached, the audience is left with the feeling of now knowing the whole story, of having all the pieces necessary to understand its events. To understand how important the desire to reach this point is to the audience, just observe the discussions of holes in the plot which people have when they're leaving a cinema: they're trying to reach a better sense of closure than was afforded them by the movie itself. In linearly progressing media, this seems, if you'll pardon the pun, straightforward. Readers know when they've finished an article or a book, viewers know when a movie or a broadcast is over, and they'll be able to assess then if they've reached sufficient closure -- if their desires have been fulfilled. On the World Wide Web, this is much more difficult: "once we have it in our hands, the whole of a book is accessible to us readers. However, in front of an electronic read-only hypertext document we are at the mercy of the author since we will only be able to activate the links which the author has provided" (McKnight et al. 119). In many cases, it's not even clear whether we've reached the end of the text already: just where does a Website end? Does the question even make sense? Consider the following example, reported by Larry Friedlander: I watched visitors explore an interactive program in a museum, one that contained a vast amount of material -- pictures, film, historic explanations, models, simulations. I was impressed by the range of subject matter and by the ambitiousness and polish of the presentation. ... But to my surprise, as I watched visitors going down one pathway after another, I noticed a certain dispirited glaze spread over their faces. They seemed to lose interest quite quickly and, in fact, soon stopped their explorations. (163) Part of the problem here may just have been the location of the programme, of course -- when you're out in public, you might just not have the time to browse as extensively as you could from your computer at home. But there are other explanations, too: the sheer amount of options for exploration may have been overwhelming -- there may not have been any apparent purpose to aim for, any closure to arrive at. This is a problem inherent in hypertext, particularly in networked systems like the Web: it "changes our conception of an ending. Different readers can choose not only to end the text at different points but also to add to and extend it. In hypertext there is no final version, and therefore no last word: a new idea or reinterpretation is always possible. ... By privileging intertextuality, hypertext provides a large number of points to which other texts can attach themselves" (Snyder 57). In other words, there will always be more out there than any reader could possibly explore, since new documents are constantly being added. There is no ending if a text is constantly extended. (In print media this problem appears only to a far more limited extent: there, intertextuality is mostly implicit, and even though new articles may constantly be added -- 'linked', if you will -- to a discourse, due to the medium's physical nature they're still very much separate entities, while Web links make intertextuality explicit and directly connect texts.) Does this mark the end of closure, then? Adding to the problem is the fact that it's not even possible to know how much of the hypertextual information available is still left unexplored, since there is no universal register of all the information available on the Web -- "the extent of hypertext is unknowable because it lacks clear boundaries and is often multi-authored" (Snyder 19). While reading a book you can check how many more pages you've got to go, but on the Web this is not an option. Our traditions of information transmission create this desire for closure, but the inherent nature of the medium prevents us from ever satisfying it. Barrett waxes lyrical in describing this dilemma: contexts presented online are often too limited for what we really want: an environment that delivers objects of desire -- to know more, see more, learn more, express more. We fear being caught in Medusa's gaze, of being transfixed before the end is reached; yet we want the head of Medusa safely on our shield to freeze the bitstream, the fleeting imagery, the unstoppable textualisations. We want, not the dead object, but the living body in its connections to its world, connections that sustain it, give it meaning. (xiv-v) We want nothing less, that is, than closure without closing: we desire the knowledge we need, and the feeling that that knowledge is sufficient to really know about a topic, but we don't want to devalue that knowledge in the same process by removing it from its context and reducing it to trivial truisms. We want the networked knowledge base that the Web is able to offer, but we don't want to feel overwhelmed by the unfathomable dimensions of that network. This is increasingly difficult the more knowledge is included in that network -- "with the growth of knowledge comes decreasing certainty. The confidence that went with objectivity must give way to the insecurity that comes from knowing that all is relative" (Smith 206). The fact that 'all is relative' is one which predates the Net, of course, and it isn't the Internet or the World Wide Web that has destroyed objectivity -- objectivity has always been an illusion, no matter how strongly journalists or scientists have at times laid claims ot it. Internet-based media have simply stripped away more of the pretences, and laid bare the subjective nature of all information; in the process, they have also uncovered the fact that the desire for closure must ultimately remain unfulfilled in any sufficiently non-trivial case. Nonetheless, the early history of the Web has seen attempts to connect all the information available (LEO, one of the first major German Internet resource centres, for example, took its initials from its mission to 'Link Everything Online') -- but as the amount of information on the Net exploded, more and more editorial choices of what to include and what to leave out had to be made, so that now even search engines like Yahoo! and Altavista quite clearly and openly offer only a selection of what they consider useful sites on the Web. Web browsers still hoping to find everything on a certain topic would be well-advised to check with all major search engines, as well as important resource centres in the specific field. The average Web user would probably be happy with picking the search engine, Web directory or Web ring they find easiest to use, and sticking with it. The multitude of available options here actually shows one strength of the Internet and similar networks -- "the computer permits many [organisational] structures to coexist in the same electronic text: tree structures, circles, and lines can cross and recross without obstructing one another. The encyclopedic impulse to organise can run riot in this new technology of writing" (Bolter 95). Still, this multitude of options is also likely to confuse some users: in particular, "novices do not know in which order they need to read the material or how much they should read. They don't know what they don't know. Therefore learners might be sidetracked into some obscure corner of the information space instead or covering the important basic information" (Nielsen 190). They're like first-time visitors to a library -- but this library has constantly shifting aisles, more or less well-known pathways into specialty collections, fiercely competing groups of librarians, and it extends almost infinitely. Of course, the design of the available search and information tools plays an important role here, too -- far more than it is possible to explore at this point. Gay makes the general observation that "visual interfaces and navigational tools that allow quick browsing of information layout and database components are more effective at locating information ... than traditional index or text-based search tools. However, it should be noted that users are less secure in their findings. Users feel that they have not conducted complete searches when they use visual tools and interfaces" (185). Such technical difficulties (especially for novices) will slow take-up of and low satisfaction with the medium (and many negative views of the Web can probably be traced to this dissatisfaction with the result of searches -- in other words, to a lack of satisfaction of the desire for closure); while many novices eventually overcome their initial confusion and become more Web-savvy, others might disregard the medium as unsuitable for their needs. At the other extreme of the scale, the inherent lack for closure, in combination with the societally deeply ingrained desire for it, may also be a strong contributing factor for another negative phenomenon associated with the Internet: that of Net users becoming Net junkies, who spend every available moment online. Where the desire to know, to get to the bottom (or more to the point: to the end) of a topic, becomes overwhelming, and where the fundamental unattainability of this goal remains unrealised, the step to an obsession with finding information seems a small one; indeed, the neverending search for that piece of knowledge surpassing all previously found ones seems to have obvious similarities to drug addiction with its search for the high to better all previous highs. And most likely, the addiction is only heightened by the knowledge that on the Web, new pieces of information are constantly being added -- an endless, and largely free, supply of drugs... There is no easy solution to this problem -- in the end, it is up to the user to avoid becoming an addict, and to keep in mind that there is no such thing as total knowledge. Web designers and content providers can help, though: "there are ways of orienting the reader in an electronic document, but in any true hypertext the ending must remain tentative. An electronic text never needs to end" (Bolter 87). As Tennant & Heilmeier elaborate, "the coming ease-of-use problem is one of developing transparent complexity -- of revealing the limits and the extent of vast coverage to users, and showing how the many known techniques for putting it all together can be used most effectively -- of complexity that reveals itself as powerful simplicity" (122). We have been seeing, therefore, the emergence of a new class of Websites: resource centres which help their visitors to understand a certain topic and view it from all possible angles, which point them in the direction of further information on- and off-site, and which give them an indication of how much they need to know to understand the topic to a certain degree. In this, they must ideally be very transparent, as Tennant & Heilmeier point out -- having accepted that there is no such thing as objectivity, it is necessary for these sites to point out that their offered insight into the field is only one of many possible approaches, and that their presented choice of information is based on subjective editorial decisions. They may present preferred readings, but they must indicate that these readings are open for debate. They may help satisfy some of their readers' desire for closure, but they must at the same time point out that they do so by presenting a temporary ending beyond which a more general story continues. If, as suggested above, closure crucially depends on a linear mode of presentation, such sites in their arguments help trace one linear route through the network of knowledge available online; they impose a linear from-us-to-you model of transmission on the normally unordered many-to-many structure of the Net. In the face of much doomsaying about the broadcast media, then, here is one possible future for these linear transmission media, and it's no surprise that such Internet 'push' broad- or narrowcasting is a growth area of the Net -- simply put, it serves the apparent need of users to be told stories, to have their desire for closure satisfied through clear narrative progressions from exposition through development to end. (This isn't 'push' as such, really: it's more a kind of 'push on demand'.) But at the same time, this won't mean the end of the unstructured, networked information that the Web offers: even such linear media ultimately build on that networked pool of knowledge. The Internet has simply made this pool public -- passively as well as actively accessible to everybody. Now, however, Web designers (and this includes each and every one of us, ultimately) must work "with the users foremost in mind, making sure that at every point there is a clear, simple and focussed experience that hooks them into the welter of information presented" (Friedlander 164); they must play to the desire for closure. (As with any preferred reading, however, there is also a danger that that closure is premature, and that the users' process or meaning-making is contained and stifled rather than aided.) To return briefly to Friedlander's experience with the interactive museum exhibit: he draws the conclusion that visitors were simply overwhelmed by the sheer mass of information and were reluctant to continue accumulating facts without a guiding purpose, without some sense of how or why they could use all this material. The technology that delivers immense bundles of data does not simultaneously deliver a reason for accumulating so much information, nor a way for the user to order and make sense of it. That is the designer's task. The pressing challenge of multimedia design is to transform information into usable and useful knowledge. (163) Perhaps this transformation is exactly what is at the heart of fulfilling the desire for closure: we feel satisfied when we feel we know something, have learnt something from a presentation of information (no matter if it's a news report or a fictional story). Nonetheless, this satisfaction must of necessity remain intermediate -- there is always much more still to be discovered. "From the hypertext viewpoint knowledge is infinite: we can never know the whole extent of it but only have a perspective on it. ... Life is in real-time and we are forced to be selective, we decide that this much constitutes one node and only these links are worth representing" (Beardon & Worden 69). This is not inherently different from processes in other media, where bandwidth limitations may even force much stricter gatekeeping regiments, but as in many cases the Internet brings these processes out into the open, exposes their workings and stresses the fundamental subjectivity of information. Users of hypertext (as indeed users of any medium) must be aware of this: "readers themselves participate in the organisation of the encyclopedia. They are not limited to the references created by the editors, since at any point they can initiate a search for a word or phrase that takes them to another article. They might also make their own explicit references (hypertextual links) for their own purposes ... . It is always a short step from electronic reading to electronic writing, from determining the order of texts to altering their structure" (Bolter 95). Significantly, too, it is this potential for wide public participation which has made the Internet into the medium of the day, and led to the World Wide Web's exponential growth; as Bolter describes, "today we cannot hope for permanence and for general agreement on the order of things -- in encyclopedias any more than in politics and the arts. What we have instead is a view of knowledge as collections of (verbal and visual) ideas that can arrange themselves into a kaleidoscope of hierarchical and associative patterns -- each pattern meeting the needs of one class of readers on one occasion" (97). To those searching for some meaningful 'universal truth', this will sound defeatist, but ultimately it is closer to realism -- one person's universal truth is another one's escapist phantasy, after all. This doesn't keep most of us from hoping and searching for that deeper insight, however -- and from the preceding discussion, it seems likely that in this we are driven by the desire for closure that has been imprinted in us so deeply by the multitudes of narrative structures we encounter each day. It's no surprise, then, that, as Barrett writes, "the virtual environment is a place of longing. Cyberspace is an odyssey without telos, and therefore without meaning. ... Yet cyberspace is also the theatre of operations for the reconstruction of the lost body of knowledge, or, perhaps more correctly, not the reconstruction, but the always primary construction of a body of knowing. Thought and language in a virtual environment seek a higher synthesis, a re-imagining of an idea in the context of its truth" (xvi). And so we search on, following that by definition end-less quest to satisfy our desire for closure, and sticking largely to the narrative structures handed down to us through the generations. This article is no exception, of course -- but while you may gain some sense of closure from it, it is inevitable that there is a deeper feeling of a lack of closure, too, as the article takes its place in a wider hypertextual context, where so much more is still left unexplored: other articles in this issue, other issues of M/C, and further journals and Websites adding to the debate. Remember this, then: you decide when and where to stop. References Barrett, Edward, and Marie Redmont, eds. Contextual Media: Multimedia and Interpretation. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT P, 1995. Barrett, Edward. "Hiding the Head of Medusa: Objects and Desire in a Virtual Environment." Barrett & Redmont xi- vi. Beardon, Colin, and Suzette Worden. "The Virtual Curator: Multimedia Technologies and the Roles of Museums." Barrett & Redmont 63-86. Bolter, Jay David. Writing Space: The Computer, Hypertext, and the History of Writing. Hillsdale, N.J.: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, 1991. Friedlander, Larry. "Spaces of Experience on Designing Multimedia Applications." Barrett & Redmont 163-74. Gay, Geri. "Issues in Accessing and Constructing Multimedia Documents." Barrett & Redmont 175-88. McKnight, Cliff, John Richardson, and Andrew Dillon. "The Authoring of Hypertext Documents." Hypertext: Theory into Practice. Ed. Ray McAleese. Oxford: Intellect, 1993. Nielsen, Jakob. Hypertext and Hypermedia. Boston: Academic Press, 1990. Smith, Anthony. Goodbye Gutenberg: The Newspaper Revolution of the 1980's [sic]. New York: Oxford UP, 1980. Snyder, Ilana. Hypertext: The ELectronic Labyrinth. Carlton South: Melbourne UP, 1996. Tennant, Harry, and George H. Heilmeier. "Knowledge and Equality: Harnessing the Truth of Information Abundance." Technology 2001: The Future of Computing and Communications. Ed. Derek Leebaert. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT P, 1991. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Axel Bruns. "What's the Story: The Unfulfilled Desire for Closure on the Web." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2.5 (1999). [your date of access] <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9907/closure.php>. Chicago style: Axel Bruns, "What's the Story: The Unfulfilled Desire for Closure on the Web," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2, no. 5 (1999), <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9907/closure.php> ([your date of access]). APA style: Axel Bruns. (1999) What's the story: the unfulfilled desire for closure on the Web. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 2(5). <http://www.uq.edu.au/mc/9907/closure.php> ([your date of access]).

As a specialist in culture and communication studies, teaching in a school of business, I realised that the notion of interdisciplinarity is usually explored in the comfort of one's own discipline. Meanwhile, the practice of interdisciplinarity is something else. The very notion of disciplinarity implies a regime of discursive practices, but in the zone between disciplines, there is often no adequate language. This piece of writing is a brief analysis of an example of the language of business studies when business studies thinks about culture. It looks at how business studies approaches cultural difference in context of intercultural contact. Geert Hofstede's Cultures and Organizations: Software of the Mind (1991) This article is a brief and very selective critique of Geert Hofstede's notion of culture in Cultures and Organizations: Software of the Mind. Hofstede has been publishing his work on cross-cultural management since the 1960s. His work is routinely used in reference to cross/multi/intercultural issues in business studies (a term I use to include commerce, finance, management, and marketing). Before I begin, I must insist that Hofstede's Cultures and Organizations: Software of the Mind is a very useful text for business studies students, as it introduces them to useful concepts in relation to culture, like culture shock, acculturation (not enculturation -- I suppose managers are repatriated before that happens), and training for successful cross-cultural communication. It is worth including here a brief note on the subtitle of Cultures and Organizations: Software of the Mind. This "software of the mind" is clearly analogous to computer programming. However, Hofstede disavows the analogy, which is central to his thesis, saying that people are not programmed the way computers are. So they are, but not really. Hofstede claims that in order to learn something different, one "must unlearn ... (the) ... patterns of thinking, feeling, and potential acting which were learned throughout (one's) lifetime". And it is this thinking/feeling/acting function he calls the "software of the mind" (4). So, is the body the hardware? Thinking and feeling are abstract and could, with a flight of fancy, be seen as "software". However, acting is visible, tangible, and often visceral. I am suggesting that "acting" either represents or is just about all we have as culture. Acting (in the fullest sense, including speech, gesture, manners, textual production, etc.) is not evidence of culture, it is culture. Also, computer technology, like every other technology, is part of culture, as evident in this journal. Culture I share Clifford Geertz's concept of culture as a semiotic one, where interpretation is a search for meaning, and where meaning lies in social relations. Geertz writes that to claim that culture consists in brute patterns of behaviour in some identifiable community is to reduce it (the community and the notion of culture). Human behaviour is symbolic action. Culture is not just patterned conduct, a frame of mind which points to some sort of ontological status. Culture is public, social, relational, and contextual. To quote Geertz: "culture is not a power, something to which social events, behaviours, institutions, or processes can be causally attributed; it is a context" (14). Culture is not an ontological essence or set of behaviours. Culture is made up of webs of relationships. That Hofstede locates culture in the mind is probably the most problematic aspect of his writing. Culture is difficult for any discipline to describe because different disciplines have their own view of social reality. They operate in their own paradigms. Hofstede uses a behaviourist psychological approach to culture, which looks at what he calls national character and typical behaviours. Even though Hofstede is aware of being, as an observer of human behaviour, an integral part of his object of analysis (other cultures), he nevertheless continuously equates the observed behaviour to particular kinds of national thinking and feeling where national is often collapsed into cultural. Hofstede uses an empirical behaviourist paradigm which measures certain behaviours, as if the observer is outside the cultural significance attributed to behaviours, and attributes them to culture. Hofstede's Notion of Culture Hofstede's work is based on quantitative data gathered from questionnaires administered to IBM corporation employees in various countries. He looked at 72 national subsidiaries, 38 occupations, 20 languages, and at two points in time (1968 and 1972), and continued his commentary on that data into the 1990s. He claims that because the entire sample has a common corporate culture, the only thing that can account for systematic and consistent differences between national groups within a homogeneous multinational organisation is nationality itself. It is as if corporate culture is outside, has nothing to do with, national culture (itself a complex and dynamic concept). Hofstede's work does not account for the fact that IBM is an American multinational corporation and, as such, whatever attributes are used to measure cultural difference, those found in American corporate culture will set the benchmark for whatever other cultures are measured. This view is supported in business studies in general where American management practices are seen as universal and normal, even when they are described as 'Western'. The areas Hofstede's IBM survey looked at are: 1. Social inequality, including the relationship with authority (also described as power distance); 2. The relationship between the individual and the group (also described as individualism versus collectivism); 3. Concepts of masculinity and femininity: the social implications of having been born as a boy or a girl (also described as masculinity versus femininity); 4. Ways of dealing with uncertainty, relating to the control of aggression and the expression of emotions (also described as uncertainty avoidance). These concepts are in themselves culturally specific and have become structurally embedded in organisational theory. Hofstede writes that these four dimensions of culture are aspects of culture that can be measured relative to other cultures. What these four dimensions actually do is not to combine to give us a four-dimensional (complex?) appreciation of culture. Rather, they map onto each other and reinforce a politically conservative, Eurocentric view of culture. Hofstede does admit to having had "a 'Western' way of thinking", but he inevitably goes back to "the mind" as a place or goal. He refers to a questionnaire composted by "Eastern', in this case Chinese minds ... [which] ... are programmed according to their own particular cultural framework" (171). So there is this constant reference to culturally programmed minds that determine certain behaviours. In his justification of using typologies to categorise people and their behaviour (minds?) Hofstede also admits that most people / cultures are hybrids. And he admits that rules are made arbitrarily in order to classify people / cultures (minds?). However, he insists that the statistical clusters he ends up with are an empirical typology. Such a reduction of "culture" to this kind of radical realism is absolutely anatomical and enumerative. And, the more Hofstede is quoted as an authority on doing business across cultures, the more truth value his work accrues. The sort of language Hofstede uses to describe culture attributes intrinsic meanings and, as a result, points to difference rather than diversity. Languages of difference are based on binaristic notions of masculine/feminine, East/West, active/passive, collective/individual, and so on. In this opposition of activity and passivity, the East (feminine, collectivist) is the weaker partner of the West (masculine, individualist). There is a nexus of knowledge and power that constructs cultural difference along such binaristic lines. While a language of diversity take multiplicity as a starting point, or the norm, Hofstede's hegemonic and instrumentalist language of difference sees multiplicity as problematic. This problem is flagged at the very start of Cultures and Organizations. 12 Angry Men: Hofstede Interprets Culture and Ignores Gender In the opening page of Cultures and Organizations there is a brief passage from Reginald Rose's play 12 Angry Men (1955). (For a good review of the film see http://www.film.u- net.com/Movies/Reviews/Twelve_Angry.html. The film was recently remade.) Hofstede uses it as an example of how twelve different people with different cultural backgrounds "think, feel and act differently". The passage describes a confrontation between what Hofstede refers as "a garage owner" and "a European-born, probably Austrian, watchmaker". Such a comparison flags, right from the start, a particular way of categorising and distinguishing between two people, in terms of visible and audible signs and symbols. Both parties are described in terms of their occupation. But then the added qualification of one of the parties as being "European-born, probably Austrian" clearly indicates that the unqualified party places him in the broad category "American". In other words, the garage owner's apparently neutral ethnicity implies a normative "American", against which all markers of cultural difference are measured. Hofstede is aware of this problem. He writes that "cultural relativism does not imply normlessness for oneself, nor for one's society" (7). However, he still uses the syntax of binaristic classification which repeats and perpetuates the very problems he is apparently addressing. One of the main factors that makes 12 Angry Men such a powerful drama is that each man carries / inscribes different aspects of American culture. And American culture is idealised in the justice system, where rationality and consensus overcomes prejudice and social pressure. Each man has a unique make-up, which includes class, occupation, ethnicity, personality, intelligence, style and experience. But 12 Angry Men is also an interesting exploration of masculinity. Because Hofstede has included a category of "masculine/feminine" in his study of national culture, it is an interesting oversight that he does not comment on this powerful element of the drama. People identify along various lines, in terms of ethnicities, languages, histories, sexuality, politics and nationalism. Most people do have multiple and varied aspects to their identity. However, Hofstede sees multiple lines of identification as causing "conflicting mental programs". Hofstede claims that identification on the gender level of his hierarchy is determined "according to whether a person was born as a girl or as a boy" (10). Hofstede misses the crucial point that whilst whether one is born female or male determines one's sex, whether one is enculturated as and identifies as feminine or masculine indicates one's gender. Sex and gender are not the same thing. Sex is biological (natural) and gender is ideological (socially constructed and naturalised). This sort of blindness to the ideological component of identity is a fundamental flaw in Hofstede's thesis. Hofstede takes ideological constructions as given, as natural. For example, in endnote 1 of Chapter 4, "He, she, and (s)he", he writes "My choice of the terms (soft feminine and hard masculine) is based on what is in virtually all societies, not on what anybody thinks should be (107, his italics). He reinforces the notion of gendered essences, or essences which constitute national identity. Indeed, the world is not made up of entities or essences that are masculine or feminine, Western or Eastern, active or passive. And the question is not so much about empirical accuracy along such lines, but rather what are the effects of always reinscribing cultures as Western or Eastern, masculine or feminine, collectivist or individualist. In an era of globalism and mass, interconnected communication, identities are multiple, and terms like East and West, masculine and feminine, active and passive, should be used as undecidable codes that, at the most, flag fragments of histories and ideologies. Identity East and West are concepts that did not come out of a political or cultural vacuum. They are categories, or concepts, that originated and flourished with European expansionism from the 17th century. They underwrote imperialism and colonisation. They are not inert labels that merely point to something "out there". East and West, like masculine and feminine or any other binary pair, indicate an imaginary relationship that prioritises one of the pair over the other. People and cultures cannot be separated into static Western and Eastern essences. Culture itself is always diverse and dynamic. It is marked by migration, diaspora, and exile, not to mention historical change. There are no "original" cultures. The sort of discourse Hofstede uses to describe cultures is based on an ontological and epistemological distinction made between East and West. Culture is not something invisible or intangible. Culture is not something obscure that is in the mind (whatever or wherever that is) which manifests itself in peculiar behaviours. Culture is what and how we communicate, whether that takes the form of speech, gestures, novels, plays, architecture, style, or art. And, as such, communication includes the objects we produce and exchange and the symbols to which we give meaning. So, when Hofstede writes that the Austrian watchmaker acts the way he does because he cannot behave otherwise. After many years in his new home country, he still behaves the way he was raised. He carries within himself an indelible pattern of behaviour he is attributing a whole range of qualities which are frequently given by dominant cultures to their cultural "others" (1). Hofstede attributes politeness, tradition, and, above all, stasis, to the European-Austrian watchmaker. The phrase "after many years in his new home country" is contradictory. If so many years have passed, why is "home" still "new"? And, indeed, the watchmaker might still behave the way he was raised, but it would be safe to assume that the garage owner also behaves the way he was raised. One of the main points made in 12 Angry Men is that twelve American men are all very different to each other in terms of values and behaviour. All this is represented in the dialogue and behaviour of twelve men in a closed room. If we are concerned with different kinds of social behaviour, and we are not concerned with pathological behaviour, then how can we know what anyone carries within themselves? Why do we want to know what anyone carries within themselves? From a cultural studies perspective, the last question is political. However, from a business studies perspective, that question is naïve. The radical economic rationalist would want to know as much as possible about cultural differences so that we can better target consumer groups and be more successful in cross-cultural negotiations. In colonial days, foreigners often wielded absolute power in other societies and they could impose their rules on it [sic]. In these postcolonial days, foreigners who want to change something in another society will have to negotiate their interventions. (7) Those who wielded absolute power in the colonies were the non-indigenous colonisers. It was precisely the self-legitimating step of making a place a colony that ensured an ongoing presence of the colonising power. The impetus behind learning about the Other in the colonial times was a combination of spiritual salvation (as in the "mission civilisatrice") and economic exploitation (colonies were seen as resources for the benefit of the European and later American centres). And now, the impetus behind learning about cultural difference is that "negotiation is more likely to succeed when the parties concerned understand the reasons for the differences in viewpoints" (7). Culture as Commerce What, in fact, happens, is that business studies simultaneously wants to "do" components of cross-cultural studies, as it is clearly profitable, while shunning the theoretical discipline of cultural studies. A fundamental flaw in a business studies perspective, which is based on Hofstede's work, is a blindness to the ideological and historical component of identity. Business studies has picked up just enough orientalism, feminism, marxism, deconstruction and postcolonialism to thinly disavow any complicity with dominant (and dominating) discourses, while getting on with business-as-usual. Multiculturalism and gender are seen as modern categories to which one must pay lip service, only to be able to get on with business-as-usual. Negotiation, compromise and consensus are desired not for the sake of success in civil processes, but for the material value of global market presence, acceptance and share. However, civil process and commercial interests are not easily separable. To refer to a cultural economy is not just to use a metaphor. The materiality of business, in the various forms of commercial transactions, is itself part of one's culture. That is, culture is the production, consumption and circulation of objects (including less easily definable objects, like performance, language, style and manners). Also, culture is produced and consumed socially (in the realm of the civil) and circulates through official and unofficial social and commercial mechanisms. Culture is a material and social phenomenon. It's not something hidden from view that only reveals itself in behaviours. Hofstede rightly asserts that culture is learned and not inherited. Human nature is inherited. However, it is very difficult to determine exactly what human nature is. Most of what we consider to be human nature turns out to be, upon close inspection, ideological, naturalised. Hofstede writes that what one does with one's human nature is "modified by culture" (5). I would argue that whatever one does is cultural. And this includes taking part in commercial transactions. Even though commercial transactions (including the buying and selling of services) are material, they are also highly ritualistic and highly symbolic, involving complex forms of communication (verbal and nonverbal language). Culture as Mental Programming Hofstede's insistent ontological reference to 'the sources of one's mental programs' is problematic for many reasons. There is the constant ontological as well as epistemological distinction being made between cultures, as if there is a static core to each culture and that we can identify it, know what it is, and deal with it. It is as if culture itself is a knowable essence. Even though Hofstede pays lip service to culture as a social phenomenon, saying that "the sources of one's mental programs lie within the social environments in which one grew up and collected one's life experiences" (4), and that past theories of race have been largely responsible for massive genocides, he nevertheless implies a kind of biologism simply by turning the mind (a radical abstraction) into something as crude as computer software, where data can be stored, erased or reconfigured. In explaining how culture is socially constructed and not biologically determined, Hofstede says that one's mental programming starts with the family and goes on through the neighbourhood, school, social groups, the work place, and the community. He says that "mental programs vary as much as the social environments in which they were acquired", which is nothing whatsoever like computer software (4-5). But he carries on to claim that "a customary term for such mental software is culture" (4, my italics). Before the large-scale changes which took place in the second half of the twentieth century in disciplines like anthropology, history, linguistics, and psychology, culture was seen to be a recognisable, determined, contained, consistent way of living which had deep psychic roots. Today, any link between mental processes and culture (formerly referred to as "race") cannot be sustained. We must be cautious against presuming to understand the relationship between mental process and social life and also against concluding that the content of the mind in each racial (or, if you like, ethnic or cultural) group is of a peculiar kind, because it is this kind of reductionism that feeds stereotypes. And it is the accumulation of knowledge about cultural types that implies power over the very types that are thus created. Conclusion A genuinely interdisciplinary approach to communication, commerce and culture would make business studies more theoretical and more challenging. And it would make cultural studies take commerce more seriously, beyond a mere celebration of shopping. This article has attempted to reveal some of the cracks in how business studies accounts for cultural diversity in an age of global commercial ambitions. It has also looked at how Hofstede's writings, as exemplary of the business studies perspective, papers over those cracks with a very thin layer of pluralist cultural relativism. This article is an invitation to open up a critical dialogue which dares to go beyond disciplinary traditionalisms in order to examine how meaning, communication, culture, language and commerce are embedded in each other. References Carothers, J.C. Mind of Man in Africa. London: Tom Stacey, 1972. Degabriele, Maria. Postorientalism: Orientalism since "Orientalism". Ph.D. Thesis. Perth: Murdoch University, 1997. Geertz, Clifford. The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays. New York: Basic Books, 1973. Hofstede, Geert. Cultures and Organisations: Software of the Mind. Sydney: McGraw-Hill, 1991. Moore, Charles A., ed. The Japanese Mind: Essentials of Japanese Philosophy and Culture. Honolulu: East-West Centre, U of Hawaii, 1967. Patai, Raphael. The Arab Mind. New York: Scribner, 1983. Toffler, Alvin. Future Shock: A Study of Mass Bewildernment in the Face of Accelerating Change. Sydney: Bodley Head, 1970. 12 Angry Men. Dir. Sidney Lumet. Orion-Nova, USA. 1957. Citation reference for this article MLA style: Maria Degabriele. "Business as Usual: How Business Studies Thinks Culture." M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3.2 (2000). [your date of access] Chicago style: Maria Degabriele, "Business as Usual: How Business Studies Thinks Culture," M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3, no. 2 (2000), ([your date of access]). APA style: Maria Degabriele. (2000) Business as usual: how business studies thinks culture. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 3(2). ([your date of access]).