Journal articles: 'Do not know enough Polish to fill this in' – Grafiati (2024)

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Abstract. Soils play a pivotal role in major global biogeochemical cycles (carbon, nutrient, and water), while hosting the largest diversity of organisms on land. Because of this, soils deliver fundamental ecosystem services, and management to change a soil process in support of one ecosystem service can either provide co-benefits to other services or result in trade-offs. In this critical review, we report the state-of-the-art understanding concerning the biogeochemical cycles and biodiversity in soil, and relate these to the provisioning, regulating, supporting, and cultural ecosystem services which they underpin. We then outline key knowledge gaps and research challenges, before providing recommendations for management activities to support the continued delivery of ecosystem services from soils. We conclude that, although soils are complex, there are still knowledge gaps, and fundamental research is still needed to better understand the relationships between different facets of soils and the array of ecosystem services they underpin, enough is known to implement best practices now. There is a tendency among soil scientists to dwell on the complexity and knowledge gaps rather than to focus on what we do know and how this knowledge can be put to use to improve the delivery of ecosystem services. A significant challenge is to find effective ways to share knowledge with soil managers and policy makers so that best management can be implemented. A key element of this knowledge exchange must be to raise awareness of the ecosystems services underpinned by soils and thus the natural capital they provide. We know enough to start moving in the right direction while we conduct research to fill in our knowledge gaps. The lasting legacy of the International Year of Soils in 2015 should be for soil scientists to work together with policy makers and land managers to put soils at the centre of environmental policy making and land management decisions.

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Too little is known about the effects of archaeology policy, which makes it difficult to evaluate and adjust the policy on the basis of rational arguments. We simply do not have enough hard evidence. As a result, policy development depends largely on subjective factors such as instinct, vision and expert judgment. A well-balanced assessment of policy – something both politicians and the public would very much like to see – is therefore impossible. To help fill the gap, targeted research is now being conducted into the effects of policy. This article outlines the findings of the report Archaeology in the Netherlands 2002: the national archaeological review and outlook, which was presented to the government of the Netherlands.

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The article presents a part of research on the students’ attitude towards foreigners, in particular Ukrainian citizens. In Poland it is currently the largest group of foreigners, as well as the largest group of foreign students studying at Polish universities. The text contains references to the sociological concept of „foreign”, especially to G. Simmel’s, and also to the category of „stereotype”, which is usually associated with the perception of different nationalities. The presented fragment of research compares the attitude of students to the stereotype of a Ukrainian, which has been acknowledged and consolidated in Poland over the years of common history. Respondents also rated functioning of Ukrainian acquaintances at the university and in the dorm. Respondents in their opinion claim that the group of Ukrainians is large, but it is almost invisible at the university. This is due to the low access of foreigners to student life and isolation among „their own”. The attitude of Polish youth is certainly significant for this type of behavior. Polish students, despite declarations, do not make enough effort to get to know and maintain closer contacts with colleagues from Ukraine.

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According to statistics 160,000 Polish citizens currently live and work in the Netherlands. Half of these Polish migrants live there with their families. In April 2018, 36,000 Polish children lived in the Netherlands. Children and adolescents are required to go to local or international schools. Observing children who lived in the country for a few years and those who have just arrived, we can see recurring problems and issues. Students who do not know the Dutch language go to classes, where they only learn the language for two or three years. Within a few months, children become lazy. The curriculum that they are supposed to master is too simple, posing not enough intellectual challenges. Moreover, the first year in a new school abroad is stressful for children and adolescents. One of the major issues is the fact that teachers do not understand the processes that a child undergoes in the adaptation phase. Many schools also have an issue with the lack of knowledge regarding the development of a bilingual child. To help and support teachers, as well as parents and children, the School at the Embassy of the Republic of Poland in The Hague and the “Kreda” Foundation from Lisse organised the first “Understanding Bilingualism” conference four years ago, inviting teachers and specialists who work with Polish children every day. The conference turned out to be a resounding success and in the following years, three additional editions of the event were organised, devoted to a variety of topics.

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The Database of Topographic Objects (DTO) is the official database of Poland for collecting and providing spatial data with the detail level of a topographic map. Polish national DTOs manage information about the spatial location and attribute values of geographic objects. Data in the DTO are the starting point for geographic information systems (GISs) for various central and local governments as well as private institutions. Every set of spatial data based on measurement-derived data is susceptible to uncertainty. Therefore, the widespread awareness of data uncertainty is of vital importance to all GIS users. Cartographic visualisation techniques are an effective approach to informing spatial dataset users about the uncertainty of the data. The objective of the research was to define a set of methods for visualising the DTO data uncertainty using expert know-how and experience. This set contains visualisation techniques for presenting three types of uncertainty: positional, attribute, and temporal. The positional uncertainty for point objects was presented using visual variables, object fill with hue colour and lightness, and glyphs placed at map symbol positions. The positional uncertainty for linear objects was presented using linear object contours made of dotted lines and glyphs at vertices. Fill grain density and contour crispness were employed to represent the positional uncertainty for surface objects. The attribute value uncertainty and the temporal uncertainty were represented using fill grain density and fill colour value. The proposed set of the DTO uncertainty visualisation methods provides a finite array of visualisation techniques that can be tested and juxtaposed. The visualisation methods were comprehensively evaluated in a survey among experts who use spatial databases. Results of user preference analysis have demonstrated that the set of the DTO data uncertainty visualisation techniques may be applied to the full extent. The future implementation of the proposed visualisation methods in GIS databases will help data users interpret values correctly.

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Providing optimal health care to patients whose first language is not English remains a major challenge. Medical students, residents, and attendings receive limited cultural competency training, but these short sporadic training courses are not nearly enough to give physicians the proper resources or preparation to understand all their patients’ beliefs. Medical interpreters can fill this gap and strengthen health care for these already marginalized communities. It is important to reconceptualize medical interpreters as true collaborators in medicine who can provide valuable insights that extend beyond language interpretation at the bedside. Physicians would benefit from the insights of these professionals who can function as both language and cultural interpreters who know these patient communities well. Improved communication between physicians and interpreters would not violate traditional physician–patient boundaries but would instead strengthen this relationship to provide the best possible care.

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Summary Maciej Urbanowski has published here hitherto unknown letters to Kazimierz Wyka by Stanisław Piasecki and Włodzimierz Pietrzak, written in 1935-1938. Their correspondence adds a new insight into what we know of the life of Kazimierz Wyka, one of the most outstanding 20thcentury Polish critics and literary scholars. The letters take us right behind the scenes of the failed attempts to recruit Wyka’s pen for “Prosto z mostu”, the leading periodical of the literary right in interwar Poland. The generational literary and political sensitivities which Wyka and the writers gathered round Piasecki’s weekly had in common were not enough, as Urbanowski argues, to overcome his more fundamental reservations. Wyka thought highly of some of the contributors of “Prosto z mostu”, but was put off by the paper’s nationalist ideological line. Nonetheless, Piasecki’s and Pietrzak’s letters give us a sense of the complex pattern of inner differences and divisions that characterized the new literary generation of the 1930s.

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Jamu can improve health for the body empirically. The use of jamu has a tendency to back to nature. Jamu is a traditional medicine of Indonesia. Based on preliminary study about attitude and knowledge towards jamu in Yoga First Klaten by interviewing members, there were 5 of 7 members showed positive attitude towards jamu and 3 of 7 members knew about boiled traditional jamu. The goal of this research is to know attitude and knowledge towards jamu in Yoga First Klaten Community. The kind of the research is quantitative descriptive. Samples were taken by using purposive sampling, there were 50 samples and data was gotten from respondens that fill in the attitude and knowledge towards jamu statement form. The result of attitude has shown that 100% repondens were kind towards jamu. The result of knowledge has shown that 90% respondens in a good category and 10% in a enough category towards jamu. The conclusion is 100% respondens were kind and 90% respondens in a good category towards jamu.

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This study aimed at evaluating the major problems of MA students of TEFL in developing proposals from the viewpoint of MA students and their professors. This quantitative study enjoyed a descriptive method and presented the frequencies and percentages of the analyzed data. The participants were a sample of 40 MA students of TEFL and 15 professors. They were requested to fill out a separate valid and reliable 40-item questionnaire. These two questionnaires were designed to evaluate students’ viewpoints about writing proposals and professors’ viewpoint about students’ proposals. Since the obtained data were non-parametric, Chi-square test was applied to analyze the data. The findings showed that APA style was not completely taught to MA students. The students had enough familiarity with the layout and physical appearance, and had appropriate knowledge of skills and subskills; however, they did not know how to analyze the data. Professors also believed that students could not explain the implications of the study perfectly in their proposals and could not provide a complete reference section. They also believed that students were not able enough to use cohesive devices. On the other hand, the difference between MA students and professors regarding the issue of affective factors was not statistically significant. The findings of this study will be useful for professors who teach seminar courses, and the administrators of the universities to offer acceptable format for the proposals, and to make students more aware of principles they should follow in proposal writing to submit an acceptable proposal.

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For the majority of emigrants, the objective problem of social adaptation, adaptation to a largely unusual new environment was objectively raised at first. The latter is often the result of the destruction of established stereotypes of behav- ior, the departure from the pre-existing outlook, the critical reappraisal of their own abilities, the loss of former illusions and the emergence of disappointments, as far from always the hope for a better share was fulfilled in full. The above-stated more applies to immigrants from the poor strata of the population of Poland, deprived of land allotments and guaranteed sufficient income at industrial enterprises. Their flow was directed mainly to the ocean: to Canada, the United States of America, partly to the countries of Latin America. But some part of their persistent efforts succeeded in engaging in agricultural labor on the land, or taking part in industrial or transport construction. Sometimes it was enough to make money, so that there was an opportunity to send children and grandchildren to study, to give them proper education so that in the future the content of their lives became intellectual work in various public and private institutions. Some of them, as experience shows, reveals the nature of the talent of a writer or poet, and in the literary skies of the host country there are the names of the masters of the word whose ancestors originated from Poland. The collection “After-September political emigration on the map of not only Polish culture” edited by Violetta Weiss- Milevska and Eva Rogalevskaya is available now for the purpose of reading the editions on Polish emigrant literature (in particular, by Maria Danilevich-Zelinskaya “Essays on emigre literature”, a studio on the anthropology of Polish emigra- tion of the twentieth century, “Excluded – emigration, the homeland”, actually V. Weiss-Milevskaya), in our opinion, are informative, observational and can serve successfully only for the first acquaintance with the names of the press of the foreign Polish writing, with the names of their individual works, the countries of their stay. Moreover, the main attention in the above-mentioned books is given to the illumination of the historical period after the Second World War. Unfortunately, we do not know the development of a critical direction, which would contain an analysis of the plots and artistic peculiarities of individual works of specific representatives of the Polish literary abroad. Moreover, the Ukrainian reader is, to the best of our knowledge, unfamiliar with the works that came out at different times from under their pen.

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Abstract The aim of this paper is to investigate those buildings left over from Warsaw’s socialist past as a part of the city’s brand visual identity including their perception by foreign tourists and local citizens. Although Lisiak (2009) examined the destruction, removal and presence of these remnants from the socialist past in Central European cities, a comparative study of the perception of these architectural sites erected in Warsaw during socialist times has not been carried out specifically so far. To fill the gap, the authors concentrated research efforts on the following buildings: Palace of Culture and Science; the SMYK Store at Bracka 15/19; Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Development at Wspólna 30; Office Building and Atrium at Wspólna 62; and the former headquarters of the Polish Communist Party at Nowy Świat 6/12. These buildings were built after the Second World War between the late 1940s and the first half of the 1950s. With the exception of the Palace of Culture and Science - which is one of the most notable symbols of Warsaw - these architectural sites are not on a priority list of the average tourist who does little or no planning for their trip. Nevertheless, these buildings are connected to the Polish People’s Republic era and might attract different groups interested in this historical period and architecture. Apart from being potential tourist attractions, these buildings are being re-evaluated and restored to become integrated into the urban environment and more ‘comfortable’ for the local inhabitants. This paper gives some insights into the recognition and attractiveness of these architectural sites from the socialist past by those from Russia and the USA who have visited Warsaw as well as by Poles who know this city well. It is recommended that these results be taken into consideration by tourist agencies who deal with tours in Warsaw as well as institutions responsible for the city’s image. The authors express the hope that this paper might be of interest for officials with public relations duties related to these architectural sites.

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Objectives: Individuals who want to get information about body donation sometimes apply to physicians instead of Anatomy Departments in Turkey. The aim of the study was to evaluate the knowledge and attitudes of physicians who are frequently consulted by body donors. Methods: In this descriptive study, questionnaire form which consisted of three parts and 20 questions was prepared. In the first part, demographic informations; in the second part; the physicians’ answers to frequently asked body donation questions and physician responsibilities in the process; in the third part, the physicians’ request for information was questioned. The survey was conducted online. Results: Of the 238 physicians from 33 different provinces (aged between 25–68 years, 58.8% female, 41.2% male), 62.6% were specialist, 37.4% were non-specialized. 12.6% of them stated that at least one person applied to them for body donation. While only 52.5% of the physicians chose the Anatomy Departments to direct the donor, 35.3% chose the Organ Donation Units. 80.3% did not know that the body of an individual who did not fill out the donation form could be donated by their relatives and 29.4% did not know that body donation does not prevent organ donation. 90.8% of the physicians stated that they needed to be informed about the laws and procedures related to cadaver donation. Conclusion: The study reveals that physicians do not have enough information about body donation and they demand to be informed about it. The findings should be carefully evaluated as a factor that may adversely affect the decision of the body donor who cannot be properly guided by the physicians.

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The criminal justice system is obliged, namely to carry out detailed examinations, prioritize evidence and facts that are strong enough to determine that a person is guilty in criminal matters, and is able to carry out convictions with a purpose that is in accordance with the crime itself and the rights that should be accepted by the convicted person. This research is a normative legal research, so the research focus is on library research. The objectives of this study are: to know the responsibility of the police if there is a wrong arrest and to know the legal remedies that the suspect can take if a wrong arrest occurs. The results of the research show how Police Investigators are held accountable for irregularities in carrying out their duties and legal remedies that can be taken by the suspect in the event of irregularities by the Police Investigator. First, the forms of sanctions contained in the Code of Ethics for the Indonesian National Police if they are violated are as follows; a) Violation behavior is declared as despicable act; b) The offender's obligation to apologize in a limited or direct manner; c) The violator's obligation to follow professional reinvention; d) The offender is declared no longer entitled to carry out the police function, then legal remedies that can be taken if a violation occurs in accordance with Article 1 paragraph 22 of the Criminal Procedure Code, compensation. The legal basis for the claim for compensation is article 77 letter b KUHAP, then rehabilitation according to article 1 paragraph 10 KUHAP point c. From this research it can be concluded that the form of accountability carried out by the Police investigators is divided into 2, namely material accountability, namely the sanction of forgiveness and immaterial accountability, namely about sanctions in the form of mandatory recovery at the Polri educational institution. Meanwhile, the legal remedy that can be taken by the victim of a wrongful arrest is to file a claim for compensation and rehabilitation.

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Abstract According to ICD C-50 breast cancer (or disease of the nipple) is the second most frequent cause of death among women in Poland. It also ranks first among tumors. The number of cancer cases is on the rise, which is due to the fact that women are not involved in voluntary protection programs, they do not conduct breast self-examinations systematically and the fact that breast tumors are usually detected at an advanced stage. In order to improve these statistics, some anti-tumor programs, focusing on breast cancer, regular self-examination need to be implemented. It would definitely decrease the number of cancer cases and drive down the mortality indexes. The authors of this article analyzed the health-seeking behaviors among female residents of Otwock county, paying special attention to the risk of breast cancer factors and disease prevention. This work is based on research conducted in 2014, looking at 69 women, residents of city of Otwock and Otwock area. An anonymous questionnaire designed by the authors of the study was handed out to the participants and the results were later subject to a statistical analysis. The findings of the study suggest what follows: (i) gynecologists are not engaged enough in breast cancer prevention programs; (ii) women rarely conduct breast self-examinations, even though they know they have to do it at least once a month; (iii) women participate in preventive breast examinations relatively often; (iv) women would not be against mandatory mammography screenings; (v) the place of residence had no significant influence over one’s attitude toward prophylaxis; (vi) health education for girls should become a subject in junior high schools (gimnazjum in Polish).

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Considering that startups greatly contribute to the economic development and survival of a country through economic growth and job creation, it is necessary to investigate the profitability of startups. However, research on this issue has not been developed enough as most previous studies regarding firm profitability were based on large-scale public companies with relatively easy data accessibility, not on startups. In addition, it is meaningful to empirically prove whether venture capital investments and governmental support positively impact on the sustainability of startups as huge discrepancies exist between traditional academic research and recent practices. Findings from this study, based on data analytics, are expected to fill the gap in knowledge as it is not clearly known about firm profitability of startups for their sustainable growth and survival. Focusing on startup profitability, the main objective of this research is to provide significant theoretical contributions and practical guidelines for startup entrepreneurs, investors, and policymakers to avoid unsubstantial growth and find solutions for sustainable growth and survival. To properly and completely analyze the determinants of firm profitability of startups, this research used the 2018 and 2019 Survey of Korean Startups by the Ministry of SMEs and Startups of Korea and Korea Venture Business Association with over 3000 samples.

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About 40 % Polish populations live on rural areas. There are not enough people who succeed, who are competitive or who want to do something new. After the Second World War wrong politics stopped the development of rural areas in Poland. John Paul II said: „In order to achieve the whole humanity, each person should go beyond the limits”. We need to know if we want to work for others or for ourselves. There is economic and social diversification on rural areas. The main reasons of many difficulties are: the lack of investment, the weak education, problems with infrastructure and lack of willingness among people. The opportunities of the development in the country depend on people and funds, especially, on a good communication between people and a person who is considered to be a leader. SWOT lets us achieve our aims concerning the strategy of development in the best manner. It is important to give chances of establishing other forms of activity in the agriculture. Young people are not skilled and they do not believe in their abilities. In addition, they do not accept new ideas or they can not work in team. The crisis and the unemployment became grievous to young people who tend to go abroad in a search of job. Each society and country should try to contribute to the development of rural areas by encouraging people to run a business, craft, trade and a modern agriculture. The youth expects interesting projects, educational seminars and other ways of overcoming, for instance, shyness. The most important subject is a man who has a lot of ideas, courage and wisdom. Each person is able to change weaknesses into chances and can face the people who tend to doubt or not believe. We must promote great values and people who are highly skilled and experienced.

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Aim. To assess the adherence to physician recommendations and to study its relation to the post stroke anxiety and depression after stroke. Material and methods. The study was done on the basis of patients hospitalized with the diagnosis of stroke/transient ischemic attack to Lubertsy district hospital №2 during 2009-2011. In 2,8 (2,1; 3,5) years after discharge we requested patients’ life status. The examination was performed, questionnaire of adherence developed in SSRCPM, that include Moricky-Greene test (MGT), short in-hospital anxiety scale HADS. Results. Totally 960 patients included, of those 370 replied to adherence questions, 360 (37,5%) men and 600 (62,5%) women, mean age 71,1±9,8 years (25-99 y.). In hospital 207 (21,6%) died, 753 (78,4%) were discharged for outpatient care. We successed to know the life status of 688 (91,4%) patients, and failed with 65 (8,6%). After discharge from the hospital 237 (31,5%) persons died, refused to be examined 77 (10,2%), 374 (49,7%) were examined, of those 370 agreed to fill in questionnaire. By the HADS score depression was found in 256 (69%), anxiety in 171 (46,2%). By the MGT adherent were only 49 (13,2%), not enough adherent 61 (16,5%), non-adherent 229 (61,9%). We found statistic relation of adhrence parameter existence and value (χ2 =8,93; р=0,003), the same relation was found for the anxiety and adherence (χ2 =6,29; р=0,01). Depression is highly probable (about 2 times) increased the chance to have low adherence parameters (OR=2,035; 95% CI 1,272- 3,254). Anxiety spectrum disorders increased the chance to be nonadherent in about 2 times too (OR=1,775; 95% CI 1,131-2,784). Conclusion. We revealed a high prevalence of depression and anxiety in patients after MI that can negatively affect adherence to physician recommendations.

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Introduction Contraception is the most favourable method of family planning. Prevention of unwanted pregnancy has great significance, both as a measure of health preservation and as a wider preventive and social measure. Objective to evaluate how informed the adolescents are when it comes to contraception, as well as to evaluate their personal experiences. Methods the research was conducted in the form of a cross-sectional study. The research instrument was a questionnaire the adolescents were asked to fill, which contained questions constructed to assess how well they were informed about the importance of contraception as well as their personal experiences. The study included 120 students and the sample was intentional, as the study was conducted at the Faculty of Health and Business Studies in Valjevo, Singidunum University in April-May 2019. The participation in the study was voluntary and anonymous, and the research was approved by the authorities of the institution. Results the results were analysed using descriptive statistical methods. The respondents were between 19 and 23 years of age and predominantly female (83%), while only 17% were male. The majority of the respondents were well informed on the subject of mechanical contraception methods and the use of condoms. The condom was the most commonly used method of contraception during sexual intercourse (63%). A large number of respondents (40%) believed that adolescents could do with more information on the subject. Conclusion the research results indicate that there is a need for more education on the subject of the importance and methods of contraception. It is necessary to intensify health education in cooperation with health institutions, schools, higher education institutions and the entire community. This need is felt by the adolescents themselves, who believe that their peers do not know enough about contraception.

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<p>This study aimed to know the management of school academic supervision activity that conducted by principal in the state primary school Pongangan, Gunungpati, Semarang area that included the planning, implementation, and the follow-up to increacse teachers’ performace. This research was conducted with qualitative descriptive method. The collecting data used interview, observation, and documentation. Research results revealed that (1) the planning of academic supervision by the principal at SDN Pongangan rated very good. (2) the implementation of academic supervision in SDN Pongangan a great fit the program, the schedule, the instruments that used according to the design, aspects that disupervisi votes had been lead on target academic supervision adapted to the needs of teachers and schools, the approach was with the program, academic supervision techniques used varied enough, the academic supervision of implementation constraints by the head of the school is the limited time; (3) the principal efforts made in the follow-up assessed academic supervision has been very good and hard-wired. Activities performed were: a) the beginning of each semester were held in groups/joint supervision of teachers meeting school/KKG school; b) performs the inverse to the teacher in order to reflect ourselves; c) implementing guidance on drafting/administration/creation of learning; d) emphasize on teachers that always paid attention to the discipline of work in carrying out the task of teaching as a teacher; e) provided guidance for teachers on how to teach in interesting and fun way; f) conducted coaching and guidance for teachers in the use of learning media, techniques/methods of teaching; g) provide a learning device formats that are new to the teacher, and taught how to fill them; g) For School Superintendent gave a complete written report in the end of years.</p>

Abstract:

Background: Many women in low and middle-income countries would like to limit or delay their pregnancy, but they do not enough access to consistent use of modern contraceptive methods. The concept of unmet need for family planning is focus to reproductive health policies, as it endures serious implications for the women, the child, family and the whole society. The aims of the study are to assess the spatial dimensions of extent of unmet need for family planning and also identify association between individual, household, community and district level covariates with the level of unmet need for family planning among married women of reproductive age group in Bihar, India.Methods: The study uses data from fourth round of the National Family Health Survey (NFHS-4). To meet the objective the analysis included descriptive, spatial visualization, spatial autocorrelation and multilevel logistic model. In the first step of analysis the multivariate analysis was used to know the levels of unmet need for family planning by selected background characteristics.Results: This study indicating that nearly one in five or more women experiences unmet need for family planning suggests that the problem remains of considerable magnitude and that action is needed to fill the gap in contraceptive use, which is currently estimated at a lowest 24 percent. Apart from providing a current estimate of unmet need, our study identified a number of relevant socioeconomic and demographic factors likely to shape the probability that a women experiences unmet need. It is observed across individual level, community/psu level and district level.Conclusions: Considering this fact, family planning program in Bihar should also focus on eliminating misconceptions and fear about contraception through proper counselling of couples and information, education and communication activities in the community and try to improve the quality of advice and care services related to family planning.

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Introduction: Implants have gained popularity in orthodontics because they facilitate maximum anchorage with minimum patient cooperation. However, some orthodontists avoid using implants because perception and experience of patients towards such anchorage systems is questionable and is not been fully reported.Aim and objectives: To evaluate the patient’s perception and experience towards the treatment with anterior microimplants for intrusion of anterior teeth using questionnaire.Materials and methods: After considering the inclusion and exclusion criteria, Participants who are undergoing orthodontic treatment with anterior implants for the intrusion of the maxillary anterior teeth was selected for the study. Questionnaire which was validated from ten respondents and subject experts will be given to each participant and asked to fill it. After collection of filled questionnaire, all the data was subjected to statistical analysis.Results: Most of the patients had enough confidence on their orthodontist and did not think to take a second opinion when an anterior implant was recommended. Majority of the patients were concerned to know regarding advantages and disadvantages of anterior microimplant and inquired about the time for the placement of anterior microimplant. More patients were worried about how long the anterior microimplant will remain inserted in their mouth and had fear of local anesthesia. On loading of microimplant, most of the patients felt pressure at the implant and few felt pain.Conclusion: The procedure was pleasant and comfortable for large number of patients and they did not felt pain after placement of anterior microimplant. Majority of the patients were satisfied with the treatment and would recommend it to other patients. Highest number of patients got used to the anterior implant by day 7 followed by day 15. An average acceptable time period for the anterior microimplant was 12 months. The overall perception and experience by the patients to the placement of anterior microimplant can be rated as expected and good.

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Mathematical comprehension is closely related to a cognition of mathematical connections. A multiplication is a mathematical operation characterized by complex mathematical connections. Students are early introduced with the multiplication. Therefore, in primary school, not so developed cognition of mathematical connections may become a reason for difficulties in Maths. A functionality of concept is based on a view to a multiplication. The analysis scientific literature revealed that a thinking of multiplication can be either additive or multiplicative. Additionally, the multiplication learning has a variety of additive and multiplicative explanations. Because they use different specificity of visualization, the models are not equally suitable for teaching children about different properties of multiplication. Based on research, in Math classes, students are only introduced with few of the models, not covering a whole variety of them. In the research, a paper and pencil type of survey consisted of 157 participants from 3rd and 4th Grades, eight different classes from four different schools. The students had to fill the table explaining multiplication of 5 x 12 in a form of writing and drawing. The quantitative analysis of results has showed that in Grades 3 to 4, the additive view to multiplication is much more prevalent, in comparison to the multiplicative reasoning. The array model is used often but not in an extensive way. The students do not know other types of multiplicative type models. In conclusion, the results showed that students of Grades 3rd and 4th knew not enough about the mathematical connections. Therefore, teachers should pay more attention to teaching students various ways of visualizing, for children, to obtain a comprehensive understanding of the multiplication process. Acknowledgement. This work was supported by a grant (No. 09.2.1-ESFA-K-728-01-0040) from the ESFA. Keywords: additive reasoning, multiplication learning, multiplicative reasoning, primary mathematics education.

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Languages are not just sets of symbols. They also often conform to a rough grammar, or system of rules, used to manipulate the symbols. The grammar of a language is a complex and highly structured affair because it operates in terms of concepts and categories which have to be defined in the same way. So we need a grammar in using English and an understanding of the grammar also influences our ability in English. The students of Law Faculty 2018/2019, Islamic University of Indragiri are the students who are studying English in the first and second semester. So, the researcher is eager to know their ability to identify preposition of time in the sentences. The study focuses on the students’ ability in identifying preposition of time in a sentence especially “on, in, and at”. The number of the first semester of Law Faculty consists of three classes and the total of the students are 118 students. The populations are more than 100 students, so the researcher used a random sampling technique. The researcher can take the sample about 15% to 25% or more like the sample and the researcher take half of 100% is 50%. So, the samples of this research are 69 students. The researcher used a quantitative method to get the data needed. The research instrument in this research is to test and fill in the blank forms. The researcher used a sentence without preposition as the instrument of this research, because the students learned preposition through sentences. Based on the result of the test, the mean score of preposition was 63.98. It was categorized at a good level, which included in the interval 61-80. Where there are 6 students get in a very good score, 26 students get in a good score, 36 students get in enough score, 1 student get the poor score and there is no get in a very poor score. In conclusion, the students of Law Faculty 2018/2019 in identify preposition categorized nice and understand in the preposition.

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This paper takes the Daliushu Dam Site in Yellow River as an example, which is located near the active fault zone with high seismic intensity. It studies the seepage of dam abutment rock mass in meizoseismal area and the stability under earthquake condition. The assessments on the key engineering problems of this project are based upon a large number of investigations, in-situ and laboratory tests, etc., which are carried out in the field by the author. We know that the "5∙12" Wenchuan Earthquake in 2008 triggered strong ruptures and damages of massif, and destructed the concrete facing of the Zipinpu rock-fill dam in Minjiang River, which is very close to the earthquake source and sufferd a 0.56g' seismic acceleration. For this reason, this paper analyzes the possible damage on the Daliushu Dam site rock mass under the grouting in the future earthquake, returning to the present poor quality condition of rock mass, while this dam shares the seismic intensity, seismic acceleration, dam type and dam height similar to the Zipinpu Project. This paper puts forward a new research thought, which is the longtime -lasting strong earthquake,first causes the rupture of rock mass and the decrease of rock mass mechani cal parameters, and the lasting earthquake will then worsen the rock mass structure mechanics parameters, and even cause the large-scale massif damage. From this viewpoint, this paper, analyzes the stability of the dam foundation and abutment rock mass especially the stability of the thin massif of the right dam abutment by the numerical analysis. The analysis show that under the normal and the earthquake conditions (excluding the rock mass damage and mechanical parameters decrese resulted from the lasting earthquake), The Daliushu Dam Site and the right dam abutment are still stable when the safety factor is assumed to be 0.802 under the lasting earthquake. In addition, the calculation results show that the stability is not enough.

Abstract:

Dogs are part of many households worldwide and in recent years in some western countries, more and more people describe them as members of the family. The accurate number of dogs per household and the actual demand for puppies are hard to estimate correctly. The sources of dogs seem to be an important element to consider before acquiring a dog since some behavioural disorders are more likely observed in dogs coming from puppy mills and pet stores. Therefore, there is an increased need to better-know dog breeders, theirs believes and practices. To full-fill this objective, an online questionnaire in five different languages (English, German, Polish, Portuguese and Spanish) was sent to dog breeders. The survey intended to study the demographics of dog breeders and to understand their perception and practices about reproduction, maternal behaviour and management of the dam during the peripartum period. We were also interested to evaluate the occurrence and the impact of stress around parturition and how breeders deal with overstressed bitches and if they believe that motherly quality could have a later-on effect on the livelihood of the dog. Six hundred and sixty-eight respondents participated in the survey, mainly from Australia, Brazil, Canada, Germany, Portugal, Poland, Spain, United Kingdom, United States of America and non-listed country (reported as ‘other’ in the survey). A country effect was observed in relation to housing system, human interaction, the use of techniques to define breeding and whelping time and different methods to manage stress during the peripartum period. Considering the demographics of the responders, breeding activity is, in general, a family based activity with an effect of country. Use of progesterone levels to manage reproduction and pregnancy diagnosis by ultrasound were cited as common practice. In general, parturition takes place under human supervision. Peripartum period was perceived as a stressful moment with a difference in the way of addressing the problem based on the country but reassuring the bitch by increasing human presence was frequently described. Inappropriate maternal behaviour was observed by half of responders and if presented primiparous bitches and parturition by C-section were overrepresented. Puppies stayed with the dams from 4 weeks to 9 weeks and dog breeders from Spain, Poland and Portugal are keeping puppies with their mother the longest. Overall, poor maternal behaviour has an impact on puppies’ cognitive development with German breeders being more convinced than their counterparts from Brazil and Spain.

Abstract:

In 2017, the death toll from floods sweeping in northern areas of Bangladesh has climbed above 150. In Dinajpur, Rangpur, Lalmonirhat, Kurigram and Thakurgaon more than 57.18 lakh people have been affected by flood and 6.11 lakh hectares of land damaged by floods in 32 districts Flood is an important natural disaster that deeply destroys the infrastructure and socio-economic conditions of the area. After the flood, the flood victims are feeling very unlucky. Their crops are totally destroyed. They are uncertain about their future. They do not know what would be happened in tomorrow. This study is conducted to find out the real situations of the flood victims of the said areas. The primary objective of this study is to provide a review of the socio-economic conditions of flood-affected people of northern districts in Bangladesh. To develop the paper, primary as well as secondary data is used. The quantitative, as well as qualitative analysis, is conducted for the study. Primary data is collected through a set of well-structured questionnaires. To collect the primary data, a personal survey method is used. Computerized modern technology is applied in the coding, tabulating, and processing of data. The victims are asked for their perceptions of life. It reveals that no victim is extremely pleased with their life before and after the flood, and 35% of victims were pleased before the flood, but after the flood, that rate is reduced to 8%. On the other hand, 5% of victims were extremely displeased, but after the flood that is increased to 17%. Floods have huge consequences on people, economics, and the environment. Flooding of regions used for socioeconomic activities produces a variety of negative effects. The government has various programs for food, housing, medical, and education but that is not enough. It is very little than the affected people. Providing adequate support for flood-affected people and preventing floodwaters can save the people of the river basin. It is also revealed that, by solving some problems locally, some nationally, and some internationally, it is possible to fill the lives of flood-affected people with laughter and joy.

Abstract:

ABSTRAKPada era sekarang ini banyak masyarakat yang ingin berwirausaha, karena wirausaha merupakan salah satu cara untuk meningkatkan kualitas perekonomian. Tujuan dari pengabdian kepada masyarakat ini adalah untuk mengedukasi para Pemuda Pemudi di Desa Marti guna Kabupaten Sintang yang memiliki atau ingin membuat UMKM yang terdiri dari cara menyusun proposal bisnis dan pembukuan keuangan sederhana. Kegiatan ini sangat penting karena dapat memperluas usaha pemilik UMKM yang sering sekali membutuhkan modal yang cukup besar sehingga dapat mengajukan kredit ke bank dengan proposal bisnis serta adanya pembukuan keuangan yang merupakan syarat administrasi mendapatkan layanan kredit. Metode yang diterapkan dalam pelaksanaan kegiatan ini adalah pelatihan terstruktur dilaksanakan secara virtual. Hasil dari pengabdian ini adalah pemuda-pemudi di Desa Marti guna Kabupaten Sintang memahami cara berwirausaha yang baik dan mampu membuat proposal bisnis dan pembukuan keuangan sederhana. Pengabdian ini menghasilkan luaran seperti proposal bisnis dan catatan keuangan UMKM. Dengan adanya Pelatihan Kewirausahaan ini, pemuda-pemudi didesa Marti Guna dapat mengisi waktu dengan hal yang produktif, yaitu memulai atau mengembangkan UMKM. Para pemuda-pemudi juga dapat mengetahui bagaimana cara berwirausaha yang baik dan menyusun proposal bisnis dan pembukuan keuangan sederhana, sehingga memudahkan mereka untuk mendapatkan layanan kredit dari bank untuk pengembangan bisnis atau usahanya.Kata Kunci: Bisnis, keuangan, UMKM ABSTRACTIn today's era, many people want to be entrepreneurs, because entrepreneurship is one way to improve the quality of the economy. The purpose of this community service is to educate young people in Marti Village for Sintang District who have or want to create MSMEs which consist of how to prepare business proposals and simple financial bookkeeping. This activity is very important because it can expand the business of MSME owners who often require large enough capital so that they can apply for credit to banks with business proposals as well as financial accounting which is an administrative requirement for obtaining credit services. The method applied in the implementation of this activity is structured training conducted virtually. The result of this dedication is that young people in Marti Village for Sintang District understand good entrepreneurial practices and are able to make simple business proposals and financial bookkeeping. This service resulted in outputs such as business proposals and MSME financial records. This service resulted in outputs such as business proposals and MSME financial records. With this Entrepreneurship Training, young people in Marti Guna village can fill their time with productive things, namely starting or developing MSMEs. Young people can also know how to be good entrepreneurship and compile simple business proposals and financial books, making it easier for them to get credit services from banks for business development or business.Keywords: Business, finance, MSMEs

Abstract:

Aim: Considering the progressing demographic changes triggering ever larger generation diversity of today’s organizations, the paper aims at identifying: how do intergenerational relations develop in the workplace and what is the manager’s role in the process of the organization of work and atmosphere creation in an age diverse staff?Design / Research methods: An analysis of the secondary research (Polish and foreign) on inter- generational relations in the workplace was carried out. Also, findings made on the basis of the author’s own research are presented: quantitative studies (a survey carried out among 103 students of the University of the Third Age at Częstochowa University of Technology and 100 students of Częstochowa University of Technology), and qualitative studies (focus groups comprising students and in-depth interviews conducted among 3 of the UTA students and 2 members of Alumni Association of Częstochowa University of Technology)Conclusions / findings: On the basis of the research analysis, the problem of intergenerational isolation between different generations was revealed and also a lack of common ground which affects the creation of work atmosphere and the organization of work and which arises, among other things, from stereotypical thinking, prejudice, fear, lack of knowledge. The possibility of a cross-generational cooperation is not determined by the actually existing differences in terms of values, motivation or the expectations of representatives of the different generations (which would render the cooperation and the priorities alignment impossible). Thus, it is feasible to build a productive cooperation within intergenerational staff, with managers playing a significant role in this process. In the first place, they should ensure an appropriate atmosphere in an age-diverse staff. To ensure that each employee feels respected and treated equally (in this context the manager’s attitude is important). In organizing work for their employees, managers should seek to create chances and opportunities of mutual cooperation among people of different ages, so as not to deepen intergenerational isolation, and instead create opportunities of getting to know one other. This, in turn, can contribute to fewer prejudices and stereotypes which tend to arise from not knowing the other person well enough. An element of specific integration could be encouraging employees to fulfill the organization’s goals by commonly striving for them.Originality / value of the article: The research analysis was employed to determine the factors which may have impact on the creation of intergenerational relations in a workplace, with this providing the basis for defining the manager’s role.Implications of the research: The identification of factors impacting the creation of relations in the workplace allowed for specific recommendations and guidelines for managers to be formulated which may be useful in creating proper relations in age-diverse organizations in Poland.

Abstract:

Huge amounts of natural gas hydrate are trapped in an ice-like structure (hydrate). Most of these hydrates have been formed from biogenic degradation of organic waste in the upper crust and are almost pure methane hydrates. With up to 14 mol% methane, concentrated inside a water phase, this is an attractive energy source. Unlike conventional hydrocarbons, these hydrates are widely distributed around the world, and might in total amount to more than twice the energy in all known sources of conventional fossil fuels. A variety of methods for producing methane from hydrate-filled sediments have been proposed and developed through laboratory scale experiments, pilot scale experiments, and theoretical considerations. Thermal stimulation (steam, hot water) and pressure reduction has by far been the dominating technology platforms during the latest three decades. Thermal stimulation as the primary method is too expensive. There are many challenges related to pressure reduction as a method. Conditions of pressure can be changed to outside the hydrate stability zone, but dissociation energy still needs to be supplied. Pressure release will set up a temperature gradient and heat can be transferred from the surrounding formation, but it has never been proven that the capacity and transport ability will ever be enough to sustain a commercial production rate. On the contrary, some recent pilot tests have been terminated due to freezing down. Other problems include sand production and water production. A more novel approach of injecting CO2 into natural gas hydrate-filled sediments have also been investigated in various laboratories around the world with varying success. In this work, we focus on some frequent misunderstandings related to this concept. The only feasible mechanism for the use of CO2 goes though the formation of a new CO2 hydrate from free water in the pores and the incoming CO2. As demonstrated in this work, the nucleation of a CO2 hydrate film rapidly forms a mass transport barrier that slows down any further growth of the CO2 hydrate. Addition of small amounts of surfactants can break these hydrate films. We also demonstrate that the free energy of the CO2 hydrate is roughly 2 kJ/mol lower than the free energy of the CH4 hydrate. In addition to heat release from the formation of the new CO2 hydrate, the increase in ion content of the remaining water will dissociate CH4 hydrate before the CO2 hydrate due to the difference in free energy.

Abstract:

AimsTo evaluate attitudes in prescribing and utilising 'As Required' (referred to as PRN/Pro Re Nata) sedating medications (Benzodiazepines, Z-Drugs, Anti-psychotics, and Promethazine)To evaulate current remote prescribing processes and improve safety and transparencyMethodPlan:Review of remote prescribing policy. It was highlighted that current practice was not in line with NMC guidance of the time as no follow-up written instruction by a doctor was received. Concerns were also raised about the general safety of verbal communication of prescriptions out of hours. A survey was conducted to assess attitudes towards the prescription of ‘PRN medication’ and the role of psychological therapies as an alternative to both doctors and nurses working in ABUHB's Mental Health and Learning Disabilities division.Do:Survey results showed a nuanced response from both doctors and nurses but an agreement that there is a role for as required medication, especially in the context of acute mental distress, indicating safety around the process rather than elimination/reduction of PRN medication prescribing would be desired. This lead to an overhaul of the out of hours prescribing process between junior doctors and those receiving the ‘verbal order’ as detailed below: Phone conversation between a junior doctor and ward nurse receiving the verbal order. A digital form is then completed by the ward nurse including current regular medication, PRN medication (including times of use), physical health history, and any additional requested information such as QTc on 12 lead electrocardiogram (ECG) or current vital signs. The junior doctor may assist with obtaining the relevant information but there are clear prompts on the form, to ensure the pertinent questions regarding safe prescribing are considered by both parties. The dose and route of the medication are clearly documented by the junior doctor as well as time of prescription and the form is emailed back to the ward nurse. This process is far more transparent and much less prone to errors due to miscommunication. a. The prompts also save time ensuring the relevant information is on hand prior to discussion as opposed to searching for medication charts, ECGs, etc. b. Highlighting the importance of QTc monitoring to encourage safe prescription of anti-psychotics and Promethazine c. The prompts also highlight the importance of physical health and current vital signs with regards to safe prescribing d. The prompts are stored on a network drive alongside other verbal orders allowing for easier future auditing off remotely off and on site These changes were highlighted via email, junior doctor forums, and induction of new doctors.StudyA Round 2 survey was drafted to evaluate the new process and forms with an aim to ensure uptake and to identify any issues. Despite using the same channels to identify survey participants, the response rate was much lower than the Round 1 survey. See Round 2 results.ActWith the limited feedback obtained the main issue identified was with regards to rapid tranquilisation of an aggressive patient who poses a risk to self and others. In this scenario it was deemed a risk to wait for an email form to be completed. Clarification emails were sent to relevant professionals to clarify that the rapid tranquilisation policy does allow for verbal orders with a subsequent digital order form to be completed at a later time when it is safe to do so.ResultRound 1 Nurses n = 26Doctors n = 27Nursing92% routinely request Z-Drugs and Benzodiazepines for treatment of insomnia88% routinely request Benzodiazepines for treatment of agitation73% routinely request Promethazine for for treatment of agitation69% routinely request PRN Anti-Psychotics for treatment of agitation35% would routinely request Promethazine for treatment of insomnia19% would routinely request Haloperidol without a recent ECG (>3 months)15% would request Benzodiazepines for treatment of psychotic symptoms12% would request Lorazepam above British National Formulary maximum dosesAs required medications dispensed per shift54% report 0 to 3 times23% report 4 to 6 times23% report 6 to 10 timesAgitation was most commonly defined as96% hostile behaviour/physical aggression92% hostile/threatening/derogatory speech81% visible anxiety69% disturbed behaviour that is not threatening/derogatory towards others31% patient reported anxiety without objective evidencePRN medication use reviewed by doctorsDaily (8%)Weekly (85%)Monthly (8%)5 most commmonly cited reasons contributing to PRN medication use77% Ward atmosphere (ie. volatile ward environment)69% Patient depdence (psychological/physiological)54% Patient expectation42% Limitted expectation of benefit from psychological skill utilisation42% Usual habit/culture of prescribing by doctorsWhat are your thoughts on the use of psychological interventions in an acute setting? [Open Ended, n = 22]Reviewing the themes from the open ended responses: Nursing staff feel positively about psychological interventions in the right setting at the right time but find challenges to delivering them. Some staff cite the fact that a patient is admitted indicates their level of acuity requiring PRN utilization. Some responses indicate that patients may be medicating the normal human experience. Ward atmosphere, how ill the patient currently is, patient willingness, staff shortages, paperwork taking priority, lack of training in psychological therapies were all cited as challenges.Doctors96% routinely prescribe Benzodiazepines for treatment of agitation92% routinely prescribe Z-drugs and Benzodiazepines for treatment of insomnia63% routinely prescribe PRN Anti-psychotics for treatment of agitation38% routinely prescribe Promethazine for treatment of agitation29% routinely prescribe Promethazine for treatment of insomnia25% routinely prescribe Benzodiazepines for treatment of psychosis12.5% routinely prescribe Lorazepam above British National Formulary maximum doses8% routinely prescribe Haloperidol without a recent ECG (>3 months)Rapid Tranquilisation Policy70% of doctors were familiar with the up to date Rapid Tranquilistion Policy5 most commmonly cited reasons contributing to PRN medication use19% nursing staff shortages15% ward atmosphere (ie. volatile ward environment)15% nursing staff expectations11% usual habit of prescribing11% patient expectationsWhat are your thoughts on the use of psychological interventions in an acute setting (n = 26)?Reviewing the themes from the open ended responses: Doctors are somewhat divided in their approach to psychological approaches, the majority stating or alluding to it being a first line management option but some citing staffing levels to be a deterrent. Others had a more nuanced view of it rather than a general first line treatment, requiring risk/benefit analyses before use. The minority did not know enough about psychological interventions or thought it often doesn't work.Round 2Nurses n = 8Doctors n = 8NursingTotal responded n = 8Acute psychiatric ward nurses n = 4Psychiatric intensive care unit nurses n = 450% were unaware that physical health emergencies and rapiq tranquilisation can allow for the older process of 'verbal orders' followed by the form due to the imminent risks associated with delaying treatment to complete the form100% (n = 8) were familiar with the digital order forms87.5% (n = 7) were familiar with the digital order policyWith regards to form locations87.5% (n = 7) had access to blank forms and would store them alongside paper medication charts12.5% (n = 1) were not aware that the ‘verbal order’ policy was not digitisedWith regards to digitised order requests: 75% (n = 6) did not report any change the frequency of requesting out of hours prescriptions12.5% (n = 1) reported a reduction in requests12.5% (n = 1) reported an increase in requests75% (n = 6) reported that the digital order form puts up barriers to requesting medication out of hoursWith regards to the form: 12.5% (n = 1) report that the form helps them formulate their requests50% (n = 4) report that the form requires the appropriate amount of information12.5% (n = 1) report that the form requires too much information37.5% (n = 3) did not comment on the amount of information the form requiresWith regards to safety: 25% (n = 2) report that the digitised system is safer75% (n = 6) did not comment on safetyWith regards to time to fill out the form: 87.5% (n = 7) report that the form is more time consuming12.5% (n = 1) did not comment on time consumptionIf given the option to revert to verbal orders: 37.5% (n = 3) would like to revert back to the old system25% (n = 2) would like to remain on current system37.5% (n = 3) did not comment on which system they'd preferDoctorsTotal responded n = 8.Consultants n = 2Staff Grade doctors n = 1Core Trainees in Psychiatry n = 3Fixed term appointees n = 2100% (n = 8) were familiar with the up to date rapid tranquilisation policyWith regards to the digital order forms62.5% regularly see them in patient files (n = 5)37.5% occasionally become aware of them (n = 3)0% were unaware of the new digital order forms (n = 0)With regards to inappropriate out of hours prescriptions37.5% report that there was a reduction (n = 3)50% report there being no significant change (n = 4)12.5% report there being an increase (n = 1)With regards to safety: n = 6 reported the new system to be safern = 2 did not comment on safetyWith regards to time: n = 2 report it being more time consuming to use the digital ordersn = 6 did not comment on time consumptionWith regards to returning to verbal order formsn = 3 would like to remain on digital ordersn = 5 did not comment on returning to verbal order formsOther: n = 2 commented in the comment box that this change was overduen = 1 commented that the forms give insight into patient presentations and managementConclusionDoctors routinely prescribe Z-drugs and benzodiazepines, and would generally consider Haloperidol as a second line over Promethazine (while nurses had a slight preference for requesting Promethazine over Haloperidol). The role of 12 lead electro-cardiogram monitoring would require further exploration in separate audits, as both Promethazine and Haloperidol can cause QTc interval prolongation [4,5].Doctors most commonly cited expectations by nursing staff as the main driver for PRN medication prescription. Profound differences were present with regards to rationale behind PRN medication use when comparisons between doctors and nurses self-reports were made. The majority of nurses cited ward atmosphere and patient dependence/expectation as main drivers, whereas a minority of doctors shared those views. This represents a concerning disconnect between professionals, although it can be explained by the higher proportion of time ward nurses spend on mental health wards and in direct patient care. Nursing staff, being the dispensers of medication, would also likely be the main professionals contacted for the request of PRN medication by patients.Nuanced views were given to the role of psychological redirection. This was shared between doctors and nurses, although many cited concerns about nursing staff shortages leading to a possible overreliance on PRN medication. A minority of doctors (n = 2) would recommend psychological redirection after first line rapid tranquilisation was exhausted. The counterargument being that someone admitted onto a ward tacitly implies a high level of acuity and reduced appropriateness of psychological techniques.Hypnotics most commonly being requested likely reflects the difficult nature to initiate and maintain sleep is an acute ward setting.On review of the Round 2 results indicate that doctors and nurses agree that the new system is safer although more time consuming. Concerns were raised about rapid tranquilisation and immediate emergencies, although the revised policy would allow for the verbal order policy to be followed with a digital order in these circ*mstances. This was clarified via further communication with relevant parties.The changes were more received more positively by doctors than nurses, with some nurses opting for the older system if possible. It was also raised that this may be putting up barriers for out of hours prescriptions, although the required information is arguably succinct and only requests vital information for safe prescribing. Further exploration of these concerns would be indicated. The Round 2 results were limited by the low sample size compared to the first round.Despite the limitations and concerns about the new system, digitising the system allows for further audits and studies to utilize much more robust methods of measuring out of hours prescriptions than self-reported measures employed in the initial rounds. Although they may not be directly compared to findings of this report, future baselines can be established and compared to in an objective manner.Future RoundsProposed: To design and clearly display information on commonly requested medication by patients, empowering them to make more informed decisions on the medications they request. This could be in the form of leaflets patients could take or posters on areas where patients receive medication. One example is that Zopiclone is a very commonly requested medication on an as required basis although patients may not be as aware of the risks associated with chronic use.Proposed: To design and clearly display information on psychologically informed techniques in patient areas such distress tolerance and sleep hygiene. This would be on mental health sites which do not currently display this information. To measure impact on PRN medication dispensation.Proposed: Further exploration of patient perceived ward environment and measures that can be implemented to reduce anxiety/insomnia associated with inpatient admission.Proposed: Exploration of proportion of inpatient initiated PRN medication progresses to long term use in the community (largely focused on hypnotics and benzodiazepines).

Abstract:

Chornohora is the highest mountain ridge in the Ukrainian Carpathians. There are six peaks with an altitude 2000 m. a.s.l. The range is a climatic barrier for air masses along the northwest – southeast. This study is important for understanding of the physical and geographical processes in the whole region. In addition, Chornohora not sufficiently researched compared to other mountain ranges of the Carpathians. The High-Mountain Meteorological and Astronomical Observatory (HMAO) at Pip Ivan Mt. was opened on July 29, 1938. The National Institute of Meteorology (Poland) served it. Copies of the data sheets Meteorological Observations Results (pol. Wyniki Spostrzezen Meteorologicznych) from the HMAO at Pip Ivan Mt. were successfully preserved in the private collections (October 1938 – July 1939). As is characteristic of these altitudes, there was a significant dynamics of changes in weather parameters from day to day. The average monthly atmospheric pressure values were lower for the winter months than for the summer months. The average temperature at Pip Ivan for 10 months was 0.8°С. It should be noted that the total rainfall during the study period at the station was 942.5 mm. Permanent snow cover on Pip Ivan Mt. laid from December 5 to April 9. The average wind speed for 10 months was 9.7 m s-1. Before the Second World War, there was also a branch of the Astronomical Observatory of the University of Warsaw. The place is remarkable in terms of distance from light sources. However, the average cloudiness in October 1938 – July 1939 at Pip Ivan was 7.6 (on a scale of 0-10). Within 10 months, the average cloudiness less than 20% were only 18 days. This is not enough for the astronomical observatories. From the available sources, we know that during the Soviet occupation (half of 1940 to June 1941) the weather station with a wide range of research was operated at the HMAO. We did not find any original records of observations of this period in Ukrainian archives. Probably after the collapse of the USSR, data stayed at the Archives of Russia’s Federation. After the Second World War, the Observatory was abandoned and subjected to destruction of the natural environment. Nowadays the Vasyl Stefanyk Precarpathian National University and the University of Warsaw are actively restoring the building of the Observatory. The modern name of the institution is the International Scientific Center “Observatory” (ISC “Observatory”). There already works 24/7 Ukrainian-Polish mountain search and rescue service. Also the following subdivisions are planned: meteorological and astronomical observations, integrated research laboratories with a wide spectrum of research on the Earth and environment, the place of practice for students and shelter for tourists. Recently (February 22, 2019) Precarpathian University signed a grant agreement: “Adaptation of former observatory on the Pip Ivan mountain for the needs of alpine rescue service training center” which includes the installation of a modern Automatic Weather Station. Within the framework of which large-scale studies are planned to measure the following parameters: atmospheric pressure (PA), air temperature (mean – TM, minimum – TN and maximum – TX), cloud cover (CC), precipitation (RR), snow depth (SD), wind speed (WS) and direction (WDu). Based on the recorded indicators of the dry and moistened thermometer and the humidity sensor, timely and average values of water vapour pressure (VP), relative humidity (RH), dew point temperature (DWPT), vapour-pressure deficit (VPD) and as well as evapotranspiration (ET) will be calculated. Also In the Observatory solar radiation instruments are preparing to install, with a large range of investigated parameters – from sunshine duration (SUD) or albedo (AL) to the measurements of ultraviolet A (UV-A) and B (UV-B). The weather station will also include the air quality monitoring system, which will measure the chemical gases in the atmosphere (e.g. O3, SO2, Nx, CO i CO2). With the support of other institutions, the range of air quality monitoring will be expanded. The location for meteorological observations in the ISC “Observatory” is unique. In terms of scientific research, we will have continuous monitoring of atmosphere elements and of the natural environment as a whole at an altitude of over 2000 m a.s.l. Meteorological research at this station is reasonable and will be the main task of the Observatory. Also, the results of the observations will have practical application from day to day, such as timely warning of avalanche danger or as a search and rescue service. Given the great importance of this mountain ridge in terms of climate, as well as to understand the physical and geographical processes in the whole region, it is worth to use comprehensive researches of its environment. Along with the observations made in other parts of the Carpathians, it will allow us to understand better the climatic features as well as the whole environment of the Carpathian regions.

Abstract:

It's not often that you are asked to come up with an article to a strict deadline but with absolutely no constraints as to the content. It's a challenge but also a luxury. Without a moment's hesitation I chose the journal as my topic. After all it is in JCS that I published my first papers; its editorial board was the first editorial board that I joined; and, of course, since I became Editor-in-Chief it has occupied a significant proportion of my waking thoughts. I was a PhD student in the laboratory of one of the Editors of the journal (now retired), and so it seemed natural that my thesis work would be published in JCS (though, come to think of it, no other options were on offer). We worked hard on my first manuscript until we had it in a form that we were satisfied with. I then left the manuscript with my advisor and, a few days later, he told me that the referees were positive and that the paper was now in press. (Oh happy days - now that I'm Editor my papers get rejected from JCS with some regularity.) While this gave me a very positive experience of science publishing in general and of JCS in particular, it did leave me completely unprepared for the more conventional review process. I was quite shocked when, as a postdoc, I submitted my first paper to a non-JCS journal (J. Cell Biol. in fact) and received referees' reports that were a) in writing, b) critical and c) took almost two months to arrive. I also discovered that JCS did not enjoy the same star billing at MIT as in Oxford and, when I rushed to the library to see my precious papers in print, it was some time before I located the journal in a dusty corner of the building. So, as we hurtle into the new Millennium, are my experiences as a PhD student relevant to publishing in JCS today? I believe that the answer is yes, for two reasons. First, because JCS still strives to be very author-friendly and, second, because any journal inevitably reflects the personalities and tastes of its Editors. JCS has always put the author first. Tangible examples of this philosophy are the open and rapid review process (ahem, I know we do slip up occasionally, so no need to interrupt my New Year hangover with any reminders), rapid, high quality publication, lack of page charges, free reprints and free colour. These features of the journal have undoubtedly benefited non-JCS authors, as competitor journals have been forced to adopt some of our policies. We are also unusual in being owned by a non-profit organisation that is committed to returning the (not inconsiderable) profits of the journal to the scientific community, through support for conferences, grants to allow scientists to visit other laboratories, and so on. While being kind to authors isn't controversial (is it?), the issue of journal content certainly is. We all grumble that such and such a journal ‘likes’ one research area and ‘dislikes’ another, and there is no doubt that for any given journal it is easier to publish some types of paper than others (thereby, of course, creating a convenient niche for new journals to fill). Here I would make two points: you can't publish papers that aren't submitted; and it is much easier to edit a journal with a modest number of submissions (JCS pre-1992) than to edit one in which the number of submissions exceeds the page allocation by a factor of greater than four (JCS at the cusp of the Millennium). As the impact factor of JCS has crept upwards, submissions have soared, but there is still a need to attract stronger papers, and so I spend a fair amount of time talking to potential authors and soliciting manuscripts, using any of the inducements at my disposal (sliding scale available on request). Along the way I seem to spend a lot of time over drinks in dingy conference bars, listening to authors' tales of cruel mistreatment at the hands of other journals; sometimes it is a struggle to remember exactly what I promised once I am safely back in my own lab. My tastes in cell biology are famously eclectic, but at some point in the last few years we no longer had space to publish all the scientifically sound papers that were being submitted. We were forced to resort to editorial rejections. This is when an Editor decides that a piece of work should not appear in the journal, even if the referees were to be positive, and therefore that the paper should not be sent out for review. Ouch! It always hurts to have a paper rejected in this way. We bend over backwards to spell out at the front of the journal the type of paper that will be editorially rejected and to explain the reasons for rejection in the decision letter to the author. An author can always appeal, in which case we will almost always send the paper out for review (and sadly the referees almost always tick the ‘too descriptive’, insufficient advance' or ‘insufficient general interest’ box on the report form). Even if space were not a limitation (and it will not be when hard copy journals disappear) there would still be the constant desire to improve the quality of the journal, the crude index of which is the impact factor. It is worth pointing out that the motivation to publish better and better science is largely the Editors' own and has almost nothing to do with the commercial success of the journal. It comes as a surprise to most scientists to discover that a large portfolio of journals with tiny circulations and mediocre content can potentially make as much money as one blockbuster journal; if the authors pay high enough page charges you enter the lucrative world of vanity publishing. Nor does it matter if a journal has a life span of only a few years; its demise is devastating for the scientists who put so much effort into it, but for the publisher it can simply be replaced with another new journal and another new title. Oops, I am beginning to sound cynical (but remember that I am writing this in 1999 and the rays of the new Millennium have yet to warm my soul). If the discrepancy between commercial success and scientific success is one issue that I brood on, the other is the growing ‘professionalisation’of science publishing. ‘Amateur’ editors, such as myself, who combine editing with running a research lab, are not quite an endangered species, but we are probably decreasing in number. We are being replaced by people who have left bench science after a PhD and, often, postdoctoral training and have taken up science publishing as a career. There have always been PhDs involved in different aspects of journal publishing, but I am thinking particularly of the growing numbers who actually determine the scientific content of the journal. At their best professional Editors are unparalleled in the flair that they bring to the job - witness the legendary Miranda Robertson and Benjamin Lewin. At their worst they have the mentality of failed postdocs, their understanding of science frozen at the point where they retired, injured, from the fray. At conferences they will assiduously take notes during the talks by their former colleagues and stare blankly into space when subjects that they are unfamiliar with are presented. They become fashion junkies, unable to decide for themselves what their journal should be publishing this season. The JCS experience of ‘professionalisation’, I hasten to add, has been totally positive (otherwise this bit would have been mysteriously edited out!). By recruiting a staff editor we have been able to take new initiatives we simply didn't have the time or energy for before. Without him ‘Editorials’, ‘In This Issue’ and a constant flow of interesting review articles would never have become reality - and there are plenty of other innovations in the pipeline. I believe in a partnership between the amateurs and the professionals, with the amateurs providing an accountability and a practical perspective that can only come from being active in the lab. No article about science publishing is complete without some pontification on electronic publishing. I'm all for it (electronic publishing, that is) for all the reasons that are rehearsed ad nauseam, but also out of nostalgia for those papers I published when I was a PhD student. Electronic publication can free us from the severe restrictions that are currently imposed on the length of individual articles. Of course it is already possible to publish supplementary material, such as movies and methods, on journal web sites, but what I would like to see is a return to longer reference lists. When I was beavering away on my first JCS paper, I took great trouble to cite all the relevant literature, both recently published and ancient (i.e. more than three years old). These days, so often, in the interests of space we restrict our citations to the newest papers, the papers in the top three journals or, worse, avoid the primary publications altogether and rely on reviews. All too often the Acknowledgements at the end of an article will include a blanket apology to those authors whose work could not be cited owing to lack of space. It would be doing science a great service if we could, once more, enjoy the luxury and the responsibility of placing our own work both in the context of the papers that preceded it and in a wider context than our own narrow research area. So, happy Millennium - and thank you to all the unsung heroes of JCS: the authors, referees, Editors and board members and all the staff who miraculously turn the constant deluge of accepted papers into a rather fine journal.

Abstract:

Education in Oceania continues to reflect the embedded implicit and explicit colonial practices and processes from the past. This paper conceptualises a cultural approach to education and leadership appropriate and relevant to the Republic of the Marshall Islands. As elementary school leaders, we highlight Kanne Lobal, a traditional Marshallese navigation practice based on indigenous language, values and practices. We conceptualise and develop Kanne Lobal in this paper as a framework for understanding the usefulness of our indigenous knowledge in leadership and educational practices within formal education. Through bwebwenato, a method of talk story, our key learnings and reflexivities were captured. We argue that realising the value of Marshallese indigenous knowledge and practices for school leaders requires purposeful training of the ways in which our knowledge can be made useful in our professional educational responsibilities. Drawing from our Marshallese knowledge is an intentional effort to inspire, empower and express what education and leadership partnership means for Marshallese people, as articulated by Marshallese themselves. Introduction As noted in the call for papers within the Waikato Journal of Education (WJE) for this special issue, bodies of knowledge and histories in Oceania have long sustained generations across geographic boundaries to ensure cultural survival. For Marshallese people, we cannot really know ourselves “until we know how we came to be where we are today” (Walsh, Heine, Bigler & Stege, 2012). Jitdam Kapeel is a popular Marshallese concept and ideal associated with inquiring into relationships within the family and community. In a similar way, the practice of relating is about connecting the present and future to the past. Education and leadership partnerships are linked and we look back to the past, our history, to make sense and feel inspired to transform practices that will benefit our people. In this paper and in light of our next generation, we reconnect with our navigation stories to inspire and empower education and leadership. Kanne lobal is part of our navigation stories, a conceptual framework centred on cultural practices, values, and concepts that embrace collective partnerships. Our link to this talanoa vā with others in the special issue is to attempt to make sense of connections given the global COVID-19 context by providing a Marshallese approach to address the physical and relational “distance” between education and leadership partnerships in Oceania. Like the majority of developing small island nations in Oceania, the Republic of the Marshall Islands (RMI) has had its share of educational challenges through colonial legacies of the past which continues to drive education systems in the region (Heine, 2002). The historical administration and education in the RMI is one of colonisation. Successive administrations by the Spanish, German, Japanese, and now the US, has resulted in education and learning that privileges western knowledge and forms of learning. This paper foregrounds understandings of education and learning as told by the voices of elementary school leaders from the RMI. The move to re-think education and leadership from Marshallese perspectives is an act of shifting the focus of bwebwenato or conversations that centres on Marshallese language and worldviews. The concept of jelalokjen was conceptualised as traditional education framed mainly within the community context. In the past, jelalokjen was practiced and transmitted to the younger generation for cultural continuity. During the arrival of colonial administrations into the RMI, jelalokjen was likened to the western notions of education and schooling (Kupferman, 2004). Today, the primary function of jelalokjen, as traditional and formal education, it is for “survival in a hostile [and challenging] environment” (Kupferman, 2004, p. 43). Because western approaches to learning in the RMI have not always resulted in positive outcomes for those engaged within the education system, as school leaders who value our cultural knowledge and practices, and aspire to maintain our language with the next generation, we turn to Kanne Lobal, a practice embedded in our navigation stories, collective aspirations, and leadership. The significance in the development of Kanne Lobal, as an appropriate framework for education and leadership, resulted in us coming together and working together. Not only were we able to share our leadership concerns, however, the engagement strengthened our connections with each other as school leaders, our communities, and the Public Schooling System (PSS). Prior to that, many of us were in competition for resources. Educational Leadership: IQBE and GCSL Leadership is a valued practice in the RMI. Before the IQBE programme started in 2018, the majority of the school leaders on the main island of Majuro had not engaged in collaborative partnerships with each other before. Our main educational purpose was to achieve accreditation from the Western Association of Schools and Colleges (WASC), an accreditation commission for schools in the United States. The WASC accreditation dictated our work and relationships and many school leaders on Majuro felt the pressure of competition against each other. We, the authors in this paper, share our collective bwebwenato, highlighting our school leadership experiences and how we gained strength from our own ancestral knowledge to empower “us”, to collaborate with each other, our teachers, communities, as well as with PSS; a collaborative partnership we had not realised in the past. The paucity of literature that captures Kajin Majol (Marshallese language) and education in general in the RMI is what we intend to fill by sharing our reflections and experiences. To move our educational practices forward we highlight Kanne Lobal, a cultural approach that focuses on our strengths, collective social responsibilities and wellbeing. For a long time, there was no formal training in place for elementary school leaders. School principals and vice principals were appointed primarily on their academic merit through having an undergraduate qualification. As part of the first cohort of fifteen school leaders, we engaged in the professional training programme, the Graduate Certificate in School Leadership (GCSL), refitted to our context after its initial development in the Solomon Islands. GCSL was coordinated by the Institute of Education (IOE) at the University of the South Pacific (USP). GCSL was seen as a relevant and appropriate training programme for school leaders in the RMI as part of an Asia Development Bank (ADB) funded programme which aimed at “Improving Quality Basic Education” (IQBE) in parts of the northern Pacific. GCSL was managed on Majuro, RMI’s main island, by the director at the time Dr Irene Taafaki, coordinator Yolanda McKay, and administrators at the University of the South Pacific’s (USP) RMI campus. Through the provision of GCSL, as school leaders we were encouraged to re-think and draw-from our own cultural repository and connect to our ancestral knowledge that have always provided strength for us. This kind of thinking and practice was encouraged by our educational leaders (Heine, 2002). We argue that a culturally-affirming and culturally-contextual framework that reflects the lived experiences of Marshallese people is much needed and enables the disruption of inherent colonial processes left behind by Western and Eastern administrations which have influenced our education system in the RMI (Heine, 2002). Kanne Lobal, an approach utilising a traditional navigation has warranted its need to provide solutions for today’s educational challenges for us in the RMI. Education in the Pacific Education in the Pacific cannot be understood without contextualising it in its history and culture. It is the same for us in the RMI (Heine, 2002; Walsh et al., 2012). The RMI is located in the Pacific Ocean and is part of Micronesia. It was named after a British captain, John Marshall in the 1700s. The atolls in the RMI were explored by the Spanish in the 16th century. Germany unsuccessfully attempted to colonize the islands in 1885. Japan took control in 1914, but after several battles during World War II, the US seized the RMI from them. In 1947, the United Nations made the island group, along with the Mariana and Caroline archipelagos, a U.S. trust territory (Walsh et al, 2012). Education in the RMI reflects the colonial administrations of Germany, Japan, and now the US. Before the turn of the century, formal education in the Pacific reflected western values, practices, and standards. Prior to that, education was informal and not binded to formal learning institutions (Thaman, 1997) and oral traditions was used as the medium for transmitting learning about customs and practices living with parents, grandparents, great grandparents. As alluded to by Jiba B. Kabua (2004), any “discussion about education is necessarily a discussion of culture, and any policy on education is also a policy of culture” (p. 181). It is impossible to promote one without the other, and it is not logical to understand one without the other. Re-thinking how education should look like, the pedagogical strategies that are relevant in our classrooms, the ways to engage with our parents and communities - such re-thinking sits within our cultural approaches and frameworks. Our collective attempts to provide a cultural framework that is relevant and appropriate for education in our context, sits within the political endeavour to decolonize. This means that what we are providing will not only be useful, but it can be used as a tool to question and identify whether things in place restrict and prevent our culture or whether they promote and foreground cultural ideas and concepts, a significant discussion of culture linked to education (Kabua, 2004). Donor funded development aid programmes were provided to support the challenges within education systems. Concerned with the persistent low educational outcomes of Pacific students, despite the prevalence of aid programmes in the region, in 2000 Pacific educators and leaders with support from New Zealand Aid (NZ Aid) decided to intervene (Heine, 2002; Taufe’ulungaki, 2014). In April 2001, a group of Pacific educators and leaders across the region were invited to a colloquium funded by the New Zealand Overseas Development Agency held in Suva Fiji at the University of the South Pacific. The main purpose of the colloquium was to enable “Pacific educators to re-think the values, assumptions and beliefs underlying [formal] schooling in Oceania” (Benson, 2002). Leadership, in general, is a valued practice in the RMI (Heine, 2002). Despite education leadership being identified as a significant factor in school improvement (Sanga & Chu, 2009), the limited formal training opportunities of school principals in the region was a persistent concern. As part of an Asia Development Bank (ADB) funded project, the Improve Quality Basic Education (IQBE) intervention was developed and implemented in the RMI in 2017. Mentoring is a process associated with the continuity and sustainability of leadership knowledge and practices (Sanga & Chu, 2009). It is a key aspect of building capacity and capabilities within human resources in education (ibid). Indigenous knowledges and education research According to Hilda Heine, the relationship between education and leadership is about understanding Marshallese history and culture (cited in Walsh et al., 2012). It is about sharing indigenous knowledge and histories that “details for future generations a story of survival and resilience and the pride we possess as a people” (Heine, cited in Walsh et al., 2012, p. v). This paper is fuelled by postcolonial aspirations yet is grounded in Pacific indigenous research. This means that our intentions are driven by postcolonial pursuits and discourses linked to challenging the colonial systems and schooling in the Pacific region that privileges western knowledge and learning and marginalises the education practices and processes of local people (Thiong’o, 1986). A point of difference and orientation from postcolonialism is a desire to foreground indigenous Pacific language, specifically Majin Majol, through Marshallese concepts. Our collective bwebwenato and conversation honours and values kautiej (respect), jouj eo mour eo (reciprocity), and jouj (kindness) (Taafaki & Fowler, 2019). Pacific leaders developed the Rethinking Pacific Education Initiative for and by Pacific People (RPEIPP) in 2002 to take control of the ways in which education research was conducted by donor funded organisations (Taufe’ulungaki, 2014). Our former president, Dr Hilda Heine was part of the group of leaders who sought to counter the ways in which our educational and leadership stories were controlled and told by non-Marshallese (Heine, 2002). As a former minister of education in the RMI, Hilda Heine continues to inspire and encourage the next generation of educators, school leaders, and researchers to re-think and de-construct the way learning and education is conceptualised for Marshallese people. The conceptualisation of Kanne Lobal acknowledges its origin, grounded in Marshallese navigation knowledge and practice. Our decision to unpack and deconstruct Kanne Lobal within the context of formal education and leadership responds to the need to not only draw from indigenous Marshallese ideas and practice but to consider that the next generation will continue to be educated using western processes and initiatives particularly from the US where we get a lot of our funding from. According to indigenous researchers Dawn Bessarab and Bridget Ng’andu (2010), doing research that considers “culturally appropriate processes to engage with indigenous groups and individuals is particularly pertinent in today’s research environment” (p. 37). Pacific indigenous educators and researchers have turned to their own ancestral knowledge and practices for inspiration and empowerment. Within western research contexts, the often stringent ideals and processes are not always encouraging of indigenous methods and practices. However, many were able to ground and articulate their use of indigenous methods as being relevant and appropriate to capturing the realities of their communities (Nabobo-Baba, 2008; Sualii-Sauni & Fulu-Aiolupotea, 2014; Thaman, 1997). At the same time, utilising Pacific indigenous methods and approaches enabled research engagement with their communities that honoured and respected them and their communities. For example, Tongan, Samoan, and Fijian researchers used the talanoa method as a way to capture the stories, lived realities, and worldviews of their communities within education in the diaspora (Fa’avae, Jones, & Manu’atu, 2016; Nabobo-Baba, 2008; Sualii-Sauni & Aiolupotea, 2014; Vaioleti, 2005). Tok stori was used by Solomon Islander educators and school leaders to highlight the unique circles of conversational practice and storytelling that leads to more positive engagement with their community members, capturing rich and meaningful narratives as a result (Sanga & Houma, 2004). The Indigenous Aborigine in Australia utilise yarning as a “relaxed discussion through which both the researcher and participant journey together visiting places and topics of interest relevant” (Bessarab & Ng’andu, 2010, p. 38). Despite the diverse forms of discussions and storytelling by indigenous peoples, of significance are the cultural protocols, ethics, and language for conducting and guiding the engagement (Bessarab & Ng’andu, 2010; Nabobo-Baba, 2008; Sualii-Sauni & Aiolupotea, 2014). Through the ethics, values, protocols, and language, these are what makes indigenous methods or frameworks unique compared to western methods like in-depth interviews or semi-structured interviews. This is why it is important for us as Marshallese educators to frame, ground, and articulate how our own methods and frameworks of learning could be realised in western education (Heine, 2002; Jetnil-Kijiner, 2014). In this paper, we utilise bwebwenato as an appropriate method linked to “talk story”, capturing our collective stories and experiences during GCSL and how we sought to build partnerships and collaboration with each other, our communities, and the PSS. Bwebwenato and drawing from Kajin Majel Legends and stories that reflect Marshallese society and its cultural values have survived through our oral traditions. The practice of weaving also holds knowledge about our “valuable and earliest sources of knowledge” (Taafaki & Fowler, 2019, p. 2). The skilful navigation of Marshallese wayfarers on the walap (large canoes) in the ocean is testament of their leadership and the value they place on ensuring the survival and continuity of Marshallese people (Taafaki & Fowler, 2019; Walsh et al., 2012). During her graduate study in 2014, Kathy Jetnil-Kijiner conceptualised bwebwenato as being the most “well-known form of Marshallese orality” (p. 38). The Marshallese-English dictionary defined bwebwenato as talk, conversation, story, history, article, episode, lore, myth, or tale (cited in Jetnil Kijiner, 2014). Three years later in 2017, bwebwenato was utilised in a doctoral project by Natalie Nimmer as a research method to gather “talk stories” about the experiences of 10 Marshallese experts in knowledge and skills ranging from sewing to linguistics, canoe-making and business. Our collective bwebwenato in this paper centres on Marshallese ideas and language. The philosophy of Marshallese knowledge is rooted in our “Kajin Majel”, or Marshallese language and is shared and transmitted through our oral traditions. For instance, through our historical stories and myths. Marshallese philosophy, that is, the knowledge systems inherent in our beliefs, values, customs, and practices are shared. They are inherently relational, meaning that knowledge systems and philosophies within our world are connected, in mind, body, and spirit (Jetnil-Kijiner, 2014; Nimmer, 2017). Although some Marshallese believe that our knowledge is disappearing as more and more elders pass away, it is therefore important work together, and learn from each other about the knowledges shared not only by the living but through their lamentations and stories of those who are no longer with us (Jetnil-Kijiner, 2014). As a Marshallese practice, weaving has been passed-down from generation to generation. Although the art of weaving is no longer as common as it used to be, the artefacts such as the “jaki-ed” (clothing mats) continue to embody significant Marshallese values and traditions. For our weavers, the jouj (check spelling) is the centre of the mat and it is where the weaving starts. When the jouj is correct and weaved well, the remainder and every other part of the mat will be right. The jouj is symbolic of the “heart” and if the heart is prepared well, trained well, then life or all other parts of the body will be well (Taafaki & Fowler, 2019). In that light, we have applied the same to this paper. Conceptualising and drawing from cultural practices that are close and dear to our hearts embodies a significant ontological attempt to prioritize our own knowledge and language, a sense of endearment to who we are and what we believe education to be like for us and the next generation. The application of the phrase “Majolizing '' was used by the Ministry of Education when Hilda Heine was minister, to weave cultural ideas and language into the way that teachers understand the curriculum, develop lesson plans and execute them in the classroom. Despite this, there were still concerns with the embedded colonized practices where teachers defaulted to eurocentric methods of doing things, like the strategies provided in the textbooks given to us. In some ways, our education was slow to adjust to the “Majolizing '' intention by our former minister. In this paper, we provide Kanne Lobal as a way to contribute to the “Majolizing intention” and perhaps speed up yet still be collectively responsible to all involved in education. Kajin Wa and Kanne Lobal “Wa” is the Marshallese concept for canoe. Kajin wa, as in canoe language, has a lot of symbolic meaning linked to deeply-held Marshallese values and practices. The canoe was the foundational practice that supported the livelihood of harsh atoll island living which reflects the Marshallese social world. The experts of Kajin wa often refer to “wa” as being the vessel of life, a means and source of sustaining life (Kelen, 2009, cited in Miller, 2010). “Jouj” means kindness and is the lower part of the main hull of the canoe. It is often referred to by some canoe builders in the RMI as the heart of the canoe and is linked to love. The jouj is one of the first parts of the canoe that is built and is “used to do all other measurements, and then the rest of the canoe is built on top of it” (Miller, 2010, p. 67). The significance of the jouj is that when the canoe is in the water, the jouj is the part of the hull that is underwater and ensures that all the cargo and passengers are safe. For Marshallese, jouj or kindness is what living is about and is associated with selflessly carrying the responsibility of keeping the family and community safe. The parts of the canoe reflect Marshallese culture, legend, family, lineage, and kinship. They embody social responsibilities that guide, direct, and sustain Marshallese families’ wellbeing, from atoll to atoll. For example, the rojak (boom), rojak maan (upper boom), rojak kōrā (lower boom), and they support the edges of the ujelā/ujele (sail) (see figure 1). The literal meaning of rojak maan is male boom and rojak kōrā means female boom which together strengthens the sail and ensures the canoe propels forward in a strong yet safe way. Figuratively, the rojak maan and rojak kōrā symbolise the mother and father relationship which when strong, through the jouj (kindness and love), it can strengthen families and sustain them into the future. Figure 1. Parts of the canoe Source: https://www.canoesmarshallislands.com/2014/09/names-of-canoe-parts/ From a socio-cultural, communal, and leadership view, the canoe (wa) provides understanding of the relationships required to inspire and sustain Marshallese peoples’ education and learning. We draw from Kajin wa because they provide cultural ideas and practices that enable understanding of education and leadership necessary for sustaining Marshallese people and realities in Oceania. When building a canoe, the women are tasked with the weaving of the ujelā/ujele (sail) and to ensure that it is strong enough to withstand long journeys and the fierce winds and waters of the ocean. The Kanne Lobal relates to the front part of the ujelā/ujele (sail) where the rojak maan and rojak kōrā meet and connect (see the red lines in figure 1). Kanne Lobal is linked to the strategic use of the ujelā/ujele by navigators, when there is no wind north wind to propel them forward, to find ways to capture the winds so that their journey can continue. As a proverbial saying, Kanne Lobal is used to ignite thinking and inspire and transform practice particularly when the journey is rough and tough. In this paper we draw from Kanne Lobal to ignite, inspire, and transform our educational and leadership practices, a move to explore what has always been meaningful to Marshallese people when we are faced with challenges. The Kanne Lobal utilises our language, and cultural practices and values by sourcing from the concepts of jouj (kindness, love), kautiej (respect), and jouj eo mour eo (reciprocity). A key Marshallese proverb, “Enra bwe jen lale rara”, is the cultural practice where families enact compassion through the sharing of food in all occurrences. The term “enra” is a small basket weaved from the coconut leaves, and often used by Marshallese as a plate to share and distribute food amongst each other. Bwe-jen-lale-rara is about noticing and providing for the needs of others, and “enra” the basket will help support and provide for all that are in need. “Enra-bwe-jen-lale-rara” is symbolic of cultural exchange and reciprocity and the cultural values associated with building and maintaining relationships, and constantly honouring each other. As a Marshallese practice, in this article we share our understanding and knowledge about the challenges as well as possible solutions for education concerns in our nation. In addition, we highlight another proverb, “wa kuk wa jimor”, which relates to having one canoe, and despite its capacity to feed and provide for the individual, but within the canoe all people can benefit from what it can provide. In the same way, we provide in this paper a cultural framework that will enable all educators to benefit from. It is a framework that is far-reaching and relevant to the lived realities of Marshallese people today. Kumit relates to people united to build strength, all co-operating and working together, living in peace, harmony, and good health. Kanne Lobal: conceptual framework for education and leadership An education framework is a conceptual structure that can be used to capture ideas and thinking related to aspects of learning. Kanne Lobal is conceptualised and framed in this paper as an educational framework. Kanne Lobal highlights the significance of education as a collective partnership whereby leadership is an important aspect. Kanne Lobal draws-from indigenous Marshallese concepts like kautiej (respect), jouj eo mour eo (reciprocity), and jouj (kindness, heart). The role of a leader, including an education leader, is to prioritise collective learning and partnerships that benefits Marshallese people and the continuity and survival of the next generation (Heine, 2002; Thaman, 1995). As described by Ejnar Aerōk, an expert canoe builder in the RMI, he stated: “jerbal ippān doon bwe en maron maan wa e” (cited in Miller, 2010, p. 69). His description emphasises the significance of partnerships and working together when navigating and journeying together in order to move the canoe forward. The kubaak, the outrigger of the wa (canoe) is about “partnerships”. For us as elementary school leaders on Majuro, kubaak encourages us to value collaborative partnerships with each other as well as our communities, PSS, and other stakeholders. Partnerships is an important part of the Kanne Lobal education and leadership framework. It requires ongoing bwebwenato – the inspiring as well as confronting and challenging conversations that should be mediated and negotiated if we and our education stakeholders are to journey together to ensure that the educational services we provide benefits our next generation of young people in the RMI. Navigating ahead the partnerships, mediation, and negotiation are the core values of jouj (kindness, love), kautiej (respect), and jouj eo mour eo (reciprocity). As an organic conceptual framework grounded in indigenous values, inspired through our lived experiences, Kanne Lobal provides ideas and concepts for re-thinking education and leadership practices that are conducive to learning and teaching in the schooling context in the RMI. By no means does it provide the solution to the education ills in our nation. However, we argue that Kanne Lobal is a more relevant approach which is much needed for the negatively stigmatised system as a consequence of the various colonial administrations that have and continue to shape and reframe our ideas about what education should be like for us in the RMI. Moreover, Kannel Lobal is our attempt to decolonize the framing of education and leadership, moving our bwebwenato to re-framing conversations of teaching and learning so that our cultural knowledge and values are foregrounded, appreciated, and realised within our education system. Bwebwenato: sharing our stories In this section, we use bwebwenato as a method of gathering and capturing our stories as data. Below we capture our stories and ongoing conversations about the richness in Marshallese cultural knowledge in the outer islands and on Majuro and the potentialities in Kanne Lobal. Danny Jim When I was in third grade (9-10 years of age), during my grandfather’s speech in Arno, an atoll near Majuro, during a time when a wa (canoe) was being blessed and ready to put the canoe into the ocean. My grandfather told me the canoe was a blessing for the family. “Without a canoe, a family cannot provide for them”, he said. The canoe allows for travelling between places to gather food and other sources to provide for the family. My grandfather’s stories about people’s roles within the canoe reminded me that everyone within the family has a responsibility to each other. Our women, mothers and daughters too have a significant responsibility in the journey, in fact, they hold us, care for us, and given strength to their husbands, brothers, and sons. The wise man or elder sits in the middle of the canoe, directing the young man who help to steer. The young man, he does all the work, directed by the older man. They take advice and seek the wisdom of the elder. In front of the canoe, a young boy is placed there and because of his strong and youthful vision, he is able to help the elder as well as the young man on the canoe. The story can be linked to the roles that school leaders, teachers, and students have in schooling. Without each person knowing intricately their role and responsibility, the sight and vision ahead for the collective aspirations of the school and the community is difficult to comprehend. For me, the canoe is symbolic of our educational journey within our education system. As the school leader, a central, trusted, and respected figure in the school, they provide support for teachers who are at the helm, pedagogically striving to provide for their students. For without strong direction from the school leaders and teachers at the helm, the students, like the young boy, cannot foresee their futures, or envisage how education can benefit them. This is why Kanne Lobal is a significant framework for us in the Marshall Islands because within the practice we are able to take heed and empower each other so that all benefit from the process. Kanne Lobal is linked to our culture, an essential part of who we are. We must rely on our own local approaches, rather than relying on others that are not relevant to what we know and how we live in today’s society. One of the things I can tell is that in Majuro, compared to the outer islands, it’s different. In the outer islands, parents bring children together and tell them legends and stories. The elders tell them about the legends and stories – the bwebwenato. Children from outer islands know a lot more about Marshallese legends compared to children from the Majuro atoll. They usually stay close to their parents, observe how to prepare food and all types of Marshallese skills. Loretta Joseph Case There is little Western influence in the outer islands. They grow up learning their own culture with their parents, not having tv. They are closely knit, making their own food, learning to weave. They use fire for cooking food. They are more connected because there are few of them, doing their own culture. For example, if they’re building a house, the ladies will come together and make food to take to the males that are building the house, encouraging them to keep on working - “jemjem maal” (sharpening tools i.e. axe, like encouraging workers to empower them). It’s when they bring food and entertainment. Rubon Rubon Togetherness, work together, sharing of food, these are important practices as a school leader. Jemjem maal – the whole village works together, men working and the women encourage them with food and entertainment. All the young children are involved in all of the cultural practices, cultural transmission is consistently part of their everyday life. These are stronger in the outer islands. Kanne Lobal has the potential to provide solutions using our own knowledge and practices. Connie Joel When new teachers become a teacher, they learn more about their culture in teaching. Teaching raises the question, who are we? A popular saying amongst our people, “Aelon kein ad ej aelon in manit”, means that “Our islands are cultural islands”. Therefore, when we are teaching, and managing the school, we must do this culturally. When we live and breathe, we must do this culturally. There is more socialising with family and extended family. Respect the elderly. When they’re doing things the ladies all get together, in groups and do it. Cut the breadfruit, and preserve the breadfruit and pandanus. They come together and do it. Same as fishing, building houses, building canoes. They use and speak the language often spoken by the older people. There are words that people in the outer islands use and understand language regularly applied by the elderly. Respect elderly and leaders more i.e., chiefs (iroj), commoners (alap), and the workers on the land (ri-jerbal) (social layer under the commoners). All the kids, they gather with their families, and go and visit the chiefs and alap, and take gifts from their land, first produce/food from the plantation (eojōk). Tommy Almet The people are more connected to the culture in the outer islands because they help one another. They don’t have to always buy things by themselves, everyone contributes to the occasion. For instance, for birthdays, boys go fishing, others contribute and all share with everyone. Kanne Lobal is a practice that can bring people together – leaders, teachers, stakeholders. We want our colleagues to keep strong and work together to fix problems like students and teachers’ absenteeism which is a big problem for us in schools. Demetria Malachi The culture in the outer islands are more accessible and exposed to children. In Majuro, there is a mixedness of cultures and knowledges, influenced by Western thinking and practices. Kanne Lobal is an idea that can enhance quality educational purposes for the RMI. We, the school leaders who did GCSL, we want to merge and use this idea because it will help benefit students’ learning and teachers’ teaching. Kanne Lobal will help students to learn and teachers to teach though traditional skills and knowledge. We want to revitalize our ways of life through teaching because it is slowly fading away. Also, we want to have our own Marshallese learning process because it is in our own language making it easier to use and understand. Essentially, we want to proudly use our own ways of teaching from our ancestors showing the appreciation and blessings given to us. Way Forward To think of ways forward is about reflecting on the past and current learnings. Instead of a traditional discussion within a research publication, we have opted to continue our bwebwenato by sharing what we have learnt through the Graduate Certificate in School Leadership (GCSL) programme. Our bwebwenato does not end in this article and this opportunity to collaborate and partner together in this piece of writing has been a meaningful experience to conceptualise and unpack the Kanne Lobal framework. Our collaborative bwebwenato has enabled us to dig deep into our own wise knowledges for guidance through mediating and negotiating the challenges in education and leadership (Sanga & Houma, 2004). For example, bwe-jen-lale-rara reminds us to inquire, pay attention, and focus on supporting the needs of others. Through enra-bwe-jen-lale-rara, it reminds us to value cultural exchange and reciprocity which will strengthen the development and maintaining of relationships based on ways we continue to honour each other (Nimmer, 2017). We not only continue to support each other, but also help mentor the next generation of school leaders within our education system (Heine, 2002). Education and leadership are all about collaborative partnerships (Sanga & Chu, 2009; Thaman, 1997). Developing partnerships through the GCSL was useful learning for us. It encouraged us to work together, share knowledge, respect each other, and be kind. The values of jouj (kindness, love), kautiej (respect), and jouj eo mour eo (reciprocity) are meaningful in being and becoming and educational leader in the RMI (Jetnil-Kijiner, 2014; Miller, 2010; Nimmer, 2017). These values are meaningful for us practice particularly given the drive by PSS for schools to become accredited. The workshops and meetings delivered during the GCSL in the RMI from 2018 to 2019 about Kanne Lobal has given us strength to share our stories and experiences from the meeting with the stakeholders. But before we met with the stakeholders, we were encouraged to share and speak in our language within our courses: EDP05 (Professional Development and Learning), EDP06 (School Leadership), EDP07 (School Management), EDP08 (Teaching and Learning), and EDP09 (Community Partnerships). In groups, we shared our presentations with our peers, the 15 school leaders in the GCSL programme. We also invited USP RMI staff. They liked the way we presented Kannel Lobal. They provided us with feedback, for example: how the use of the sail on the canoe, the parts and their functions can be conceptualised in education and how they are related to the way that we teach our own young people. Engaging stakeholders in the conceptualisation and design stages of Kanne Lobal strengthened our understanding of leadership and collaborative partnerships. Based on various meetings with the RMI Pacific Resources for Education and Learning (PREL) team, PSS general assembly, teachers from the outer islands, and the PSS executive committee, we were able to share and receive feedback on the Kanne Lobal framework. The coordinators of the PREL programme in the RMI were excited by the possibilities around using Kanne Lobal, as a way to teach culture in an inspirational way to Marshallese students. Our Marshallese knowledge, particularly through the proverbial meaning of Kanne Lobal provided so much inspiration and insight for the groups during the presentation which gave us hope and confidence to develop the framework. Kanne Lobal is an organic and indigenous approach, grounded in Marshallese ways of doing things (Heine, 2002; Taafaki & Fowler, 2019). Given the persistent presence of colonial processes within the education system and the constant reference to practices and initiatives from the US, Kanne Lobal for us provides a refreshing yet fulfilling experience and makes us feel warm inside because it is something that belongs to all Marshallese people. Conclusion Marshallese indigenous knowledge and practices provide meaningful educational and leadership understanding and learnings. They ignite, inspire, and transform thinking and practice. The Kanne Lobal conceptual framework emphasises key concepts and values necessary for collaborative partnerships within education and leadership practices in the RMI. The bwebwenato or talk stories have been insightful and have highlighted the strengths and benefits that our Marshallese ideas and practices possess when looking for appropriate and relevant ways to understand education and leadership. Acknowledgements We want to acknowledge our GCSL cohort of school leaders who have supported us in the development of Kanne Lobal as a conceptual framework. A huge kommol tata to our friends: Joana, Rosana, Loretta, Jellan, Alvin, Ellice, Rolando, Stephen, and Alan. References Benson, C. (2002). Preface. In F. Pene, A. M. Taufe’ulungaki, & C. Benson (Eds.), Tree of Opportunity: re-thinking Pacific Education (p. iv). Suva, Fiji: University of the South Pacific, Institute of Education. Bessarab, D., Ng’andu, B. (2010). Yarning about yarning as a legitimate method in indigenous research. International Journal of Critical Indigenous Studies, 3(1), 37-50. Fa’avae, D., Jones, A., & Manu’atu, L. (2016). Talanoa’i ‘a e talanoa - talking about talanoa: Some dilemmas of a novice researcher. AlterNative: An Indigenous Journal of Indigenous Peoples,12(2),138-150. Heine, H. C. (2002). A Marshall Islands perspective. In F. Pene, A. M. Taufe’ulungaki, & C. Benson (Eds.), Tree of Opportunity: re-thinking Pacific Education (pp. 84 – 90). Suva, Fiji: University of the South Pacific, Institute of Education. Infoplease Staff (2017, February 28). Marshall Islands, retrieved from https://www.infoplease.com/world/countries/marshall-islands Jetnil-Kijiner, K. (2014). Iep Jaltok: A history of Marshallese literature. (Unpublished masters’ thesis). Honolulu, HW: University of Hawaii. Kabua, J. B. (2004). We are the land, the land is us: The moral responsibility of our education and sustainability. In A.L. Loeak, V.C. Kiluwe and L. Crowl (Eds.), Life in the Republic of the Marshall Islands, pp. 180 – 191. Suva, Fiji: University of the South Pacific. Kupferman, D. (2004). Jelalokjen in flux: Pitfalls and prospects of contextualising teacher training programmes in the Marshall Islands. Directions: Journal of Educational Studies, 26(1), 42 – 54. http://directions.usp.ac.fj/collect/direct/index/assoc/D1175062.dir/doc.pdf Miller, R. L. (2010). Wa kuk wa jimor: Outrigger canoes, social change, and modern life in the Marshall Islands (Unpublished masters’ thesis). Honolulu, HW: University of Hawaii. Nabobo-Baba, U. (2008). Decolonising framings in Pacific research: Indigenous Fijian vanua research framework as an organic response. AlterNative: An Indigenous Journal of Indigenous Peoples, 4(2), 141-154. Nimmer, N. E. (2017). Documenting a Marshallese indigenous learning framework (Unpublished doctoral thesis). Honolulu, HW: University of Hawaii. Sanga, K., & Houma, S. (2004). Solomon Islands principalship: Roles perceived, performed, preferred, and expected. Directions: Journal of Educational Studies, 26(1), 55-69. Sanga, K., & Chu, C. (2009). Introduction. In K. Sanga & C. Chu (Eds.), Living and Leaving a Legacy of Hope: Stories by New Generation Pacific Leaders (pp. 10-12). NZ: He Parekereke & Victoria University of Wellington. Suaalii-Sauni, T., & Fulu-Aiolupotea, S. M. (2014). Decolonising Pacific research, building Pacific research communities, and developing Pacific research tools: The case of the talanoa and the faafaletui in Samoa. Asia Pacific Viewpoint, 55(3), 331-344. Taafaki, I., & Fowler, M. K. (2019). Clothing mats of the Marshall Islands: The history, the culture, and the weavers. US: Kindle Direct. Taufe’ulungaki, A. M. (2014). Look back to look forward: A reflective Pacific journey. In M. ‘Otunuku, U. Nabobo-Baba, S. Johansson Fua (Eds.), Of Waves, Winds, and Wonderful Things: A Decade of Rethinking Pacific Education (pp. 1-15). Fiji: USP Press. Thaman, K. H. (1995). Concepts of learning, knowledge and wisdom in Tonga, and their relevance to modern education. Prospects, 25(4), 723-733. Thaman, K. H. (1997). Reclaiming a place: Towards a Pacific concept of education for cultural development. The Journal of the Polynesian Society, 106(2), 119-130. Thiong’o, N. W. (1986). Decolonising the mind: The politics of language in African literature. Kenya: East African Educational Publishers. Vaioleti, T. (2006). Talanoa research methodology: A developing position on Pacific research. Waikato Journal of Education, 12, 21-34. Walsh, J. M., Heine, H. C., Bigler, C. M., & Stege, M. (2012). Etto nan raan kein: A Marshall Islands history (First Edition). China: Bess Press.

Abstract:

Background and Objective: Suicide attempts are 10-20X more common than completed suicide and an important risk factor for death by suicide, yet most people who attempt suicide do not die by suicide. The process of recovering after a suicide attempt has not been well studied. The Reasons to go on Living (RTGOL) Project, a narrative web-based study, focuses on experiences of people who have attempted suicide and made the decision to go on living, a process not well studied. Narrative research is ideally suited to understanding personal experiences critical to recovery following a suicide attempt, including the transition to a state of hopefulness. Voices from people with lived experience can help us plan and conceptualize this work. This paper reports on a secondary research question of the larger study: what stories do participants tell of the positive role/impact of the mental health system. Material and Methods: A website created for The RTGOL Project (www.thereasons.ca) enabled participants to anonymously submit a story about their suicide attempt and recovery, a process which enabled participation from a large and diverse group of participants. The only direction given was “if you have made a suicide attempt or seriously considered suicide and now want to go on living, we want to hear from you.” The unstructured narrative format allowed participants to describe their experiences in their own words, to include and emphasize what they considered important. Over 5 years, data analysis occurred in several phases over the course of the study, resulting in the identification of data that were inputted into an Excel file. This analysis used stories where participants described positive involvement with the mental health system (50 stories). Results: Several participants reflected on experiences many years previous, providing the privilege of learning how their life unfolded, what made a difference. Over a five-year period, 50 of 226 stories identified positive experiences with mental health care with sufficient details to allow analysis, and are the focus of this paper. There were a range of suicidal behaviours in these 50 stories, from suicidal ideation only to medically severe suicide attempts. Most described one or more suicide attempts. Three themes identified included: 1) trust and relationship with a health care professional, 2) the role of friends and family and friends, and 3) a wide range of services. Conclusion: Stories open a window into the experiences of the period after a suicide attempt. This study allowed for an understanding of how mental health professionals might help individuals who have attempted suicide write a different story, a life-affirming story. The stories that participants shared offer some understanding of “how” to provide support at a most-needed critical juncture for people as they interact with health care providers, including immediately after a suicide attempt. Results of this study reinforce that just one caring professional can make a tremendous difference to a person who has survived a suicide attempt. Key Words: web-based; suicide; suicide attempt; mental health system; narrative research Word Count: 478 Introduction My Third (or fourth) Suicide AttemptI laid in the back of the ambulance, the snow of too many doses of ativan dissolving on my tongue.They hadn't even cared enough about meto put someone in the back with me,and so, frustrated,I'd swallowed all the pills I had with me— not enough to do what I wanted it to right then,but more than enough to knock me out for a good 14 hours.I remember very little after that;benzodiazepines like ativan commonly cause pre- and post-amnesia, says Google helpfullyI wake up in a locked rooma woman manically drawing on the windows with crayonsthe colors of light through the glassdiffused into rainbows of joy scattered about the roomas if she were coloring on us all,all of the tattered remnants of humanity in a psych wardmade into a brittle mosaic, a quilt of many hues, a Technicolor dreamcoatand I thoughtI am so glad to be able to see this. (Story 187)The nurse opening that door will have a lasting impact on how this story unfolds and on this person’s life. Each year, almost one million people die from suicide, approximately one death every 40 seconds. Suicide attempts are much more frequent, with up to an estimated 20 attempts for every death by suicide.1 Suicide-related behaviours range from suicidal ideation and self-injury to death by suicide. We are unable to directly study those who die by suicide, but effective intervention after a suicide attempt could reduce the risk of subsequent death by suicide. Near-fatal suicide attempts have been used to explore the boundary with completed suicides. Findings indicated that violent suicide attempters and serious attempters (seriousness of the medical consequences to define near-fatal attempts) were more likely to make repeated, and higher lethality suicide attempts.2 In a case-control study, the medically severe suicide attempts group (78 participants), epidemiologically very similar to those who complete suicide, had significantly higher communication difficulties; the risk for death by suicide multiplied if accompanied by feelings of isolation and alienation.3 Most research in suicidology has been quantitative, focusing almost exclusively on identifying factors that may be predictive of suicidal behaviours, and on explanation rather than understanding.4 Qualitative research, focusing on the lived experiences of individuals who have attempted suicide, may provide a better understanding of how to respond in empathic and helpful ways to prevent future attempts and death by suicide.4,5 Fitzpatrick6 advocates for narrative research as a valuable qualitative method in suicide research, enabling people to construct and make sense of the experiences and their world, and imbue it with meaning. A review of qualitative studies examining the experiences of recovering from or living with suicidal ideation identified 5 interconnected themes: suffering, struggle, connection, turning points, and coping.7 Several additional qualitative studies about attempted suicide have been reported in the literature. Participants have included patients hospitalized for attempting suicide8, and/or suicidal ideation,9 out-patients following a suicide attempt and their caregivers,10 veterans with serious mental illness and at least one hospitalization for a suicide attempt or imminent suicide plan.11 Relationships were a consistent theme in these studies. Interpersonal relationships and an empathic environment were perceived as therapeutic and protective, enabling the expression of thoughts and self-understanding.8 Given the connection to relationship issues, the authors suggested it may be helpful to provide support for the relatives of patients who have attempted suicide. A sheltered, friendly environment and support systems, which included caring by family and friends, and treatment by mental health professionals, helped the suicidal healing process.10 Receiving empathic care led to positive changes and an increased level of insight; just one caring professional could make a tremendous difference.11 Kraft and colleagues9 concluded with the importance of hearing directly from those who are suicidal in order to help them, that only when we understand, “why suicide”, can we help with an alternative, “why life?” In a grounded theory study about help-seeking for self-injury, Long and colleagues12 identified that self-injury was not the problem for their participants, but a panacea, even if temporary, to painful life experiences. Participant narratives reflected a complex journey for those who self-injured: their wish when help-seeking was identified by the theme “to be treated like a person”. There has also been a focus on the role and potential impact of psychiatric/mental health nursing. Through interviews with experienced in-patient nurses, Carlen and Bengtsson13 identified the need to see suicidal patients as subjective human beings with unique experiences. This mirrors research with patients, which concluded that the interaction with personnel who are devoted, hope-mediating and committed may be crucial to a patient’s desire to continue living.14 Interviews with individuals who received mental health care for a suicidal crisis following a serious attempt led to the development of a theory for psychiatric nurses with the central variable, reconnecting the person with humanity across 3 phases: reflecting an image of humanity, guiding the individual back to humanity, and learning to live.15 Other research has identified important roles for nurses working with patients who have attempted suicide by enabling the expression of thoughts and developing self-understanding8, helping to see things differently and reconnecting with others,10 assisting the person in finding meaning from their experience to turn their lives around, and maintain/and develop positive connections with others.16 However, one literature review identified that negative attitudes toward self-harm were common among nurses, with more positive attitudes among mental health nurses than general nurses. The authors concluded that education, both reflective and interactive, could have a positive impact.17 This paper is one part of a larger web-based narrative study, the Reasons to go on Living Project (RTGOL), that seeks to understand the transition from making a suicide attempt to choosing life. When invited to tell their stories anonymously online, what information would people share about their suicide attempts? This paper reports on a secondary research question of the larger study: what stories do participants tell of the positive role/impact of the mental health system. The focus on the positive impact reflects an appreciative inquiry approach which can promote better practice.18 Methods Design and Sample A website created for The RTGOL Project (www.thereasons.ca) enabled participants to anonymously submit a story about their suicide attempt and recovery. Participants were required to read and agree with a consent form before being able to submit their story through a text box or by uploading a file. No demographic information was requested. Text submissions were embedded into an email and sent to an account created for the Project without collecting information about the IP address or other identifying information. The content of the website was reviewed by legal counsel before posting, and the study was approved by the local Research Ethics Board. Stories were collected for 5 years (July 2008-June 2013). The RTGOL Project enabled participation by a large, diverse audience, at their own convenience of time and location, providing they had computer access. The unstructured narrative format allowed participants to describe their experiences in their own words, to include and emphasize what they considered important. Of the 226 submissions to the website, 112 described involvement at some level with the mental health system, and 50 provided sufficient detail about positive experiences with mental health care to permit analysis. There were a range of suicidal behaviours in these 50 stories: 8 described suicidal ideation only; 9 met the criteria of medically severe suicide attempts3; 33 described one or more suicide attempts. For most participants, the last attempt had been some years in the past, even decades, prior to writing. Results Stories of positive experiences with mental health care described the idea of a door opening, a turning point, or helping the person to see their situation differently. Themes identified were: (1) relationship and trust with a Health Care Professional (HCP), (2) the role of family and friends (limited to in-hospital experiences), and (3) the opportunity to access a range of services. The many reflective submissions of experiences told many years after the suicide attempt(s) speaks to the lasting impact of the experience for that individual. Trust and Relationship with a Health Care Professional A trusting relationship with a health professional helped participants to see things in a different way, a more hopeful way and over time. “In that time of crisis, she never talked down to me, kept her promises, didn't panic, didn't give up, and she kept believing in me. I guess I essentially borrowed the hope that she had for me until I found hope for myself.” (Story# 35) My doctor has worked extensively with me. I now realize that this is what will keep me alive. To be able to feel in my heart that my doctor does care about me and truly wants to see me get better.” (Story 34). The writer in Story 150 was a nurse, an honours graduate. The 20 years following graduation included depression, hospitalizations and many suicide attempts. “One day after supper I took an entire bottle of prescription pills, then rode away on my bike. They found me late that night unconscious in a downtown park. My heart threatened to stop in the ICU.” Then later, “I finally found a person who was able to connect with me and help me climb out of the pit I was in. I asked her if anyone as sick as me could get better, and she said, “Yes”, she had seen it happen. Those were the words I had been waiting to hear! I quickly became very motivated to get better. I felt heard and like I had just found a big sister, a guide to help me figure out how to live in the world. This person was a nurse who worked as a trauma therapist.” At the time when the story was submitted, the writer was applying to a graduate program. Role of Family and Friends Several participants described being affected by their family’s response to their suicide attempt. Realizing the impact on their family and friends was, for some, a turning point. The writer in Story 20 told of experiences more than 30 years prior to the writing. She described her family of origin as “truly dysfunctional,” and she suffered from episodes of depression and hospitalization during her teen years. Following the birth of her second child, and many family difficulties, “It was at this point that I became suicidal.” She made a decision to kill herself by jumping off the balcony (6 stories). “At the very last second as I hung onto the railing of the balcony. I did not want to die but it was too late. I landed on the parking lot pavement.” She wrote that the pain was indescribable, due to many broken bones. “The physical pain can be unbearable. Then you get to see the pain and horror in the eyes of someone you love and who loves you. Many people suggested to my husband that he should leave me in the hospital, go on with life and forget about me. During the process of recovery in the hospital, my husband was with me every day…With the help of psychiatrists and a later hospitalization, I was actually diagnosed as bipolar…Since 1983, I have been taking lithium and have never had a recurrence of suicidal thoughts or for that matter any kind of depression.” The writer in Story 62 suffered childhood sexual abuse. When she came forward with it, she felt she was not heard. Self-harm on a regular basis was followed by “numerous overdoses trying to end my life.” Overdoses led to psychiatric hospitalizations that were unhelpful because she was unable to trust staff. “My way of thinking was that ending my life was the only answer. There had been numerous attempts, too many to count. My thoughts were that if I wasn’t alive I wouldn’t have to deal with my problems.” In her final attempt, she plunged over the side of a mountain, dropping 80 feet, resulting in several serious injuries. “I was so angry that I was still alive.” However, “During my hospitalization I began to realize that my family and friends were there by my side continuously, I began to realize that I wasn't only hurting myself. I was hurting all the important people in my life. It was then that I told myself I am going to do whatever it takes.” A turning point is not to say that the difficulties did not continue. The writer of Story 171 tells of a suicide attempt 7 years previous, and the ongoing anguish. She had been depressed for years and had thoughts of suicide on a daily basis. After a serious overdose, she woke up the next day in a hospital bed, her husband and 2 daughters at her bed. “Honestly, I was disappointed to wake up. But, then I saw how scared and hurt they were. Then I was sorry for what I had done to them. Since then I have thought of suicide but know that it is tragic for the family and is a hurt that can never be undone. Today I live with the thought that I am here for a reason and when it is God's time to take me then I will go. I do believe living is harder than dying. I do believe I was born for a purpose and when that is accomplished I will be released. …Until then I try to remind myself of how I am blessed and try to appreciate the wonders of the world and the people in it.” Range of Services The important role of mental health and recovery services was frequently mentioned, including dialectical behavioural therapy (DBT)/cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT), recovery group, group therapy, Alcoholics Anonymous, accurate diagnosis, and medications. The writer in Story 30 was 83 years old when she submitted her story, reflecting on a life with both good and bad times. She first attempted suicide at age 10 or 12. A serious post-partum depression followed the birth of her second child, and over the years, she experienced periods of suicidal intent: “Consequently, a few years passed and I got to feeling suicidal again. I had pills in one pocket and a clipping for “The Recovery Group” in the other pocket. As I rode on the bus trying to make up my mind, I decided to go to the Recovery Group first. I could always take the pills later. I found the Recovery Group and yoga helpful; going to meetings sometimes twice a day until I got thinking more clearly and learned how to deal with my problems.” Several participants described the value of CBT or DBT in learning to challenge perceptions. “I have tools now to differentiate myself from the illness. I learned I'm not a bad person but bad things did happen to me and I survived.”(Story 3) “The fact is that we have thoughts that are helpful and thoughts that are destructive….. I knew it was up to me if I was to get better once and for all.” (Story 32): “In the hospital I was introduced to DBT. I saw a nurse (Tanya) every day and attended a group session twice a week, learning the techniques. I worked with the people who wanted to work with me this time. Tanya said the same thing my counselor did “there is no study that can prove whether or not suicide solves problems” and I felt as though I understood it then. If I am dead, then all the people that I kept pushing away and refusing their help would be devastated. If I killed myself with my own hand, my family would be so upset. DBT taught me how to ‘ride my emotional wave’. ……….. DBT has changed my life…….. My life is getting back in order now, thanks to DBT, and I have lots of reasons to go on living.”(Story 19) The writer of Story 67 described the importance of group therapy. “Group therapy was the most helpful for me. It gave me something besides myself to focus on. Empathy is such a powerful emotion and a pathway to love. And it was a huge relief to hear others felt the same and had developed tools of their own that I could try for myself! I think I needed to learn to communicate and recognize when I was piling everything up to build my despair. I don’t think I have found the best ways yet, but I am lifetimes away from that teenage girl.” (Story 67) The author of story 212 reflected on suicidal ideation beginning over 20 years earlier, at age 13. Her first attempt was at 28. “I thought everyone would be better off without me, especially my children, I felt like the worst mum ever, I felt like a burden to my family and I felt like I was a failure at life in general.” She had more suicide attempts, experienced the death of her father by suicide, and then finally found her doctor. “Now I’m on meds for a mood disorder and depression, my family watch me closely, and I see my doctor regularly. For the first time in 20 years, I love being a mum, a sister, a daughter, a friend, a cousin etc.” Discussion The 50 stories that describe positive experiences in the health care system constitute a larger group than most other similar studies, and most participants had made one or more suicide attempts. Several writers reflected back many years, telling stories of long ago, as with the 83-year old participant (Story 30) whose story provided the privilege of learning how the author’s life unfolded. In clinical practice, we often do not know – how did the story turn out? The stories that describe receiving health care speak to the impact of the experience, and the importance of the issues identified in the mental health system. We identified 3 themes, but it was often the combination that participants described in their stories that was powerful, as demonstrated in Story 20, the young new mother who had fallen from a balcony 30 years earlier. Voices from people with lived experience can help us plan and conceptualize our clinical work. Results are consistent with, and add to, the previous work on the importance of therapeutic relationships.8,10,11,14–16 It is from the stories in this study that we come to understand the powerful experience of seeing a family members’ reaction following a participant’s suicide attempt, and how that can be a potent turning point as identified by Lakeman and Fitzgerald.7 Ghio and colleagues8 and Lakeman16 identified the important role for staff/nurses in supporting families due to the connection to relationship issues. This research also calls for support for families to recognize the important role they have in helping the person understand how much they mean to them, and to promote the potential impact of a turning point. The importance of the range of services reflect Lakeman and Fitzgerald’s7 theme of coping, associating positive change by increasing the repertoire of coping strategies. These findings have implications for practice, research and education. Working with individuals who are suicidal can help them develop and tell a different story, help them move from a death-oriented to life-oriented position,15 from “why suicide” to “why life.”9 Hospitalization provides a person with the opportunity to reflect, to take time away from “the real world” to consider oneself, the suicide attempt, connections with family and friends and life goals, and to recover physically and emotionally. Hospitalization is also an opening to involve the family in the recovery process. The intensity of the immediate period following a suicide attempt provides a unique opportunity for nurses to support and coach families, to help both patients and family begin to see things differently and begin to create that different story. In this way, family and friends can be both a support to the person who has attempted suicide, and receive help in their own struggles with this experience. It is also important to recognize that this short period of opportunity is not specific to the nurses in psychiatric units, as the nurses caring for a person after a medically severe suicide attempt will frequently be the nurses in the ICU or Emergency departments. Education, both reflective and interactive, could have a positive impact.17 Helping staff develop the attitudes, skills and approach necessary to be helpful to a person post-suicide attempt is beginning to be reported in the literature.21 Further implications relate to nursing curriculum. Given the extent of suicidal ideation, suicide attempts and deaths by suicide, this merits an important focus. This could include specific scenarios, readings by people affected by suicide, both patients themselves and their families or survivors, and discussions with individuals who have made an attempt(s) and made a decision to go on living. All of this is, of course, not specific to nursing. All members of the interprofessional health care team can support the transition to recovery of a person after a suicide attempt using the strategies suggested in this paper, in addition to other evidence-based interventions and treatments. Findings from this study need to be considered in light of some specific limitations. First, the focus was on those who have made a decision to go on living, and we have only the information the participants included in their stories. No follow-up questions were possible. The nature of the research design meant that participants required access to a computer with Internet and the ability to communicate in English. This study does not provide a comprehensive view of in-patient care. However, it offers important inputs to enhance other aspects of care, such as assessing safety as a critical foundation to care. We consider these limitations were more than balanced by the richness of the many stories that a totally anonymous process allowed. Conclusion Stories open a window into the experiences of a person during the period after a suicide attempt. The RTGOL Project allowed for an understanding of how we might help suicidal individuals change the script, write a different story. The stories that participants shared give us some understanding of “how” to provide support at a most-needed critical juncture for people as they interact with health care providers immediately after a suicide attempt. While we cannot know the experiences of those who did not survive a suicide attempt, results of this study reinforce that just one caring professional can make a crucial difference to a person who has survived a suicide attempt. We end with where we began. Who will open the door? References 1. World Health Organization. Suicide prevention and special programmes. http://www.who.int/mental_health/prevention/suicide/suicideprevent/en/index.html Geneva: Author; 2013.2. Giner L, Jaussent I, Olie E, et al. Violent and serious suicide attempters: One step closer to suicide? J Clin Psychiatry 2014:73(3):3191–197.3. Levi-Belz Y, Gvion Y, Horesh N, et al. Mental pain, communication difficulties, and medically serious suicide attempts: A case-control study. Arch Suicide Res 2014:18:74–87.4. Hjelmeland H and Knizek BL. Why we need qualitative research in suicidology? Suicide Life Threat Behav 2010:40(1):74–80.5. Gunnell D. A population health perspective on suicide research and prevention: What we know, what we need to know, and policy priorities. Crisis 2015:36(3):155–60.6. Fitzpatrick S. Looking beyond the qualitative and quantitative divide: Narrative, ethics and representation in suicidology. Suicidol Online 2011:2:29–37.7. Lakeman R and FitzGerald M. How people live with or get over being suicidal: A review of qualitative studies. J Adv Nurs 2008:64(2):114–26.8. Ghio L, Zanelli E, Gotelli S, et al. Involving patients who attempt suicide in suicide prevention: A focus group study. J Psychiatr Ment Health Nurs 2011:18:510–18.9. Kraft TL, Jobes DA, Lineberry TW., Conrad, A., & Kung, S. Brief report: Why suicide? Perceptions of suicidal inpatients and reflections of clinical researchers. Arch Suicide Res 2010:14(4):375-382.10. Sun F, Long A, Tsao L, et al. The healing process following a suicide attempt: Context and intervening conditions. Arch Psychiatr Nurs 2014:28:66–61.11. Montross Thomas L, Palinkas L, et al. Yearning to be heard: What veterans teach us about suicide risk and effective interventions. Crisis 2014:35(3):161–67.12. Long M, Manktelow R, and Tracey A. The healing journey: Help seeking for self-injury among a community population. Qual Health Res 2015:25(7):932–44.13. Carlen P and Bengtsson A. Suicidal patients as experienced by psychiatric nurses in inpatient care. Int J Ment Health Nurs 2007:16:257–65.14. Samuelsson M, Wiklander M, Asberg M, et al. Psychiatric care as seen by the attempted suicide patient. J Adv Nurs 2000:32(3):635–43.15. Cutcliffe JR, Stevenson C, Jackson S, et al. A modified grounded theory study of how psychiatric nurses work with suicidal people. Int J Nurs Studies 2006:43(7):791–802.16. Lakeman, R. What can qualitative research tell us about helping a person who is suicidal? Nurs Times 2010:106(33):23–26.17. Karman P, Kool N, Poslawsky I, et al. Nurses’ attitudes toward self-harm: a literature review. J Psychiatr Ment Health Nurs 2015:22:65–75.18. Carter B. ‘One expertise among many’ – working appreciatively to make miracles instead of finding problems: Using appreciative inquiry as a way of reframing research. J Res Nurs 2006:11(1): 48–63.19. Lieblich A, Tuval-Mashiach R, Zilber T. Narrative research: Reading, analysis, and interpretation. Sage Publications; 1998.20. Braun V and Clarke V. Using thematic analysis in psychology. Qual Res Psychol 2006:3(2):77–101.21. Kishi Y, Otsuka K, Akiyama K, et al. Effects of a training workshop on suicide prevention among emergency room nurses. Crisis 2014:35(5):357–61.

Abstract:

We’ll have trouble now!The Archaeological Society of Jutland was founded on Sunday, 11 March 1951. As with most projects with which P.V Glob was involved, this did not pass off without drama. Museum people and amateur archaeologists in large numbers appeared at the Museum of Natural History in Aarhus, which had placed rooms at our disposal. The notable dentist Holger Friis, the uncrowned king of Hjørring, was present, as was Dr Balslev from Aidt, Mr and Mrs Overgaard from Holstebro Museum, and the temperamental leader of Aalborg Historical Museum, Peter Riismøller, with a number of his disciples. The staff of the newly-founded Prehistoric Museum functioned as the hosts, except that one of them was missing: the instigator of the whole enterprise, Mr Glob. As the time for the meeting approached, a cold sweat broke out on the foreheads of the people present. Finally, just one minute before the meeting was to start, he arrived and mounted the platform. Everything then went as expected. An executive committee was elected after some discussion, laws were passed, and then suddenly Glob vanished again, only to materialise later in the museum, where he confided to us that his family, which included four children, had been enlarged by a daughter.That’s how the society was founded, and there is not much to add about this. However, a few words concerning the background of the society and its place in a larger context may be appropriate. A small piece of museum history is about to be unfolded.The story begins at the National Museum in the years immediately after World War II, at a time when the German occupation and its incidents were still terribly fresh in everyone’s memory. Therkel Mathiassen was managing what was then called the First Department, which covered the prehistoric periods.Although not sparkling with humour, he was a reliable and benevolent person. Number two in the order of precedence was Hans Christian Broholm, a more colourful personality – awesome as he walked down the corridors, with his massive proportions and a voice that sounded like thunder when nothing seemed to be going his way, as quite often seemed to be the case. Glob, a relatively new museum keeper, was also quite loud at times – his hot-blooded artist’s nature manifested itself in peculiar ways, but his straight forward appearance made him popular with both the older and the younger generations. His somewhat younger colleague C.J. Becker was a scholar to his fingertips, and he sometimes acted as a welcome counterbalance to Glob. At the bottom of the hierarchy was the student group, to which I belonged. The older students handled various tasks, including periodic excavations. This was paid work, and although the salary was by no means princely, it did keep us alive. Student grants were non-existent at the time. Four of us made up a team: Olfert Voss, Mogens Ørsnes, Georg Kunwald and myself. Like young people in general, we were highly discontented with the way our profession was being run by its ”ruling” members, and we were full of ideas for improvement, some of which have later been – or are being – introduced.At the top of our wish list was a central register, of which Voss was the strongest advocate. During the well over one hundred years that archaeology had existed as a professional discipline, the number of artefacts had grown to enormous amounts. The picture was even worse if the collections of the provincial museums were taken into consideration. We imagined how it all could be registered in a card index and categorised according to groups to facilitate access to references in any particular situation. Electronic data processing was still unheard of in those days, but since the introduction of computers, such a comprehensive record has become more feasible.We were also sceptical of the excavation techniques used at the time – they were basically adequate, but they badly needed tightening up. As I mentioned before, we were often working in the field, and not just doing minor jobs but also more important tasks, so we had every opportunity to try out our ideas. Kunwald was the driving force in this respect, working with details, using sections – then a novelty – and proceeding as he did with a thoroughness that even his fellow students found a bit exaggerated at times, although we agreed with his principles. Therkel Mathiassen moaned that we youngsters were too expensive, but he put up with our excesses and so must have found us somewhat valuable. Very valuable indeed to everyon e was Ejnar Dyggve’s excavation of the Jelling mounds in the early 1940s. From a Danish point of view, it was way ahead of its time.Therkel Mathiassen justly complained about the economic situation of the National Museum. Following the German occupation, the country was impoverished and very little money was available for archaeological research: the total sum available for the year 1949 was 20,000 DKK, which corresponded to the annual income of a wealthy man, and was of course absolutely inadequate. Of course our small debating society wanted this sum to be increased, and for once we didn’t leave it at the theoretical level.Voss was lucky enough to know a member of the Folketing (parliament), and a party leader at that. He was brought into the picture, and between us we came up with a plan. An article was written – ”Preserve your heritage” (a quotation from Johannes V. Jensen’s Denmark Song) – which was sent to the newspaper Information. It was published, and with a little help on our part the rest of the media, including radio, picked up the story.We informed our superiors only at the last minute, when everything was arranged. They were taken by surprise but played their parts well, as expected, and everything went according to plan. The result was a considerable increase in excavation funds the following year.It should be added that our reform plans included the conduct of exhibitions. We found the traditional way of presenting the artefacts lined up in rows and series dull and outdated. However, we were not able to experiment within this field.Our visions expressed the natural collision with the established ways that comes with every new generation – almost as a law of nature, but most strongly when the time is ripe. And this was just after the war, when communication with foreign colleagues, having been discontinued for some years, was slowly picking up again. The Archaeological Society of Jutland was also a part of all this, so let us turn to what Hans Christian Andersen somewhat provocatively calls the ”main country”.Until 1949, only the University of Copenhagen provided a degree in prehistoric archaeology. However, in this year, the University of Aarhus founded a chair of archaeology, mainly at the instigation of the Lord Mayor, Svend Unmack Larsen, who was very in terested in archaeology. Glob applied for the position and obtained it, which encompassed responsibility for the old Aarhus Museum or, as it was to be renamed, the Prehistoric Museum (now Moesgaard Museum).These were landmark events to Glob – and to me, as it turned out. We had been working together for a number of years on the excavation of Galgebakken (”Callows Hill”) near Slots Bjergby, Glob as the excavation leader, and I as his assistant. He now offered me the job of museum curator at his new institution. This was somewhat surprising as I had not yet finished my education. The idea was that I was to finish my studies in remote Jutland – a plan that had to be given up rather quickly, though, for reasons which I will describe in the following. At the same time, Gunner Lange-Kornbak – also hand-picked from the National Museum – took up his office as a conservation officer.The three of us made up the permanent museum staff, quickly supplemented by Geoffrey Bibby, who turned out to be an invaluable colleague. He was English and had been stationed in the Faeroe Islands during the war, where he learned to speak Danish. After 1945 he worked for some years for an oil company in the Gulf of Persia, but after marrying Vibeke, he settled in her home town of Aarhus. As his academic background had involved prehistoric cultures he wanted to collaborate with the museum, which Glob readily permitted.This small initial flock governed by Glob was not permitted to indulge inidleness. Glob was a dynamic character, full of good and not so good ideas, but also possessing a good grasp of what was actually practicable. The boring but necessary daily work on the home front was not very interesting to him, so he willingly handed it over to others. He hardly noticed the lack of administrative machinery, a prerequisite for any scholarly museum. It was not easy to follow him on his flights of fancy and still build up the necessary support base. However, the fact that he in no way spared himself had an appeasing effect.Provincial museums at that time were of a mixed nature. A few had trained management, and the rest were run by interested locals. This was often excellently done, as in Esbjerg, where the master joiner Niels Thomsen and a staff of volunteers carried out excavations that were as good as professional investigations, and published them in well-written articles. Regrettably, there were also examples of the opposite. A museum curator in Jutland informed me that his predecessor had been an eager excavator but very rarely left any written documentation of his actions. The excavated items were left without labels in the museum store, often wrapped in newspapers. However, these gave a clue as to the time of unearthing, and with a bit of luck a look in the newspaper archive would then reveal where the excavation had taken place. Although somewhat exceptional, this is not the only such case.The Museum of Aarhus definitely belonged among the better ones in this respect. Founded in 1861, it was at first located at the then town hall, together with the local art collection. The rooms here soon became too cramped, and both collections were moved to a new building in the ”Mølleparken” park. There were skilful people here working as managers and assistants, such as Vilhelm Boye, who had received his archaeological training at the National Museum, and later the partners A. Reeh, a barrister, and G.V. Smith, a captain, who shared the honour of a number of skilfully performed excavations. Glob’s predecessor as curator was the librarian Ejler Haugsted, also a competent man of fine achievements. We did not, thus, take over a museum on its last legs. On the other hand, it did not meet the requirements of a modern scholarly museum. We were given the task of turning it into such a museum, as implied by the name change.The goal was to create a museum similar to the National Museum, but without the faults and shortcomings that that museum had developed over a period of time. In this respect our nightly conversations during our years in Copenhagen turned out to be useful, as our talk had focused on these imperfections and how to eradicate them.We now had the opportunity to put our theories into practice. We may not have succeeded in doing so, but two areas were essentially improved:The numerous independent numbering systems, which were familiar to us from the National Museum, were permeating archaeological excavation s not only in the field but also during later work at the museum. As far as possible this was boiled down to a single system, and a new type of report was born. (In this context, a ”report” is the paper following a field investigation, comprising drawings, photos etc. and describing the progress of the work and the observations made.) The instructions then followed by the National Museum staff regarding the conduct of excavations and report writing went back to a 19th-century protocol by the employee G.V. Blom. Although clear and rational – and a vast improvement at the time – this had become outdated. For instance, the excavation of a burial mound now involved not only the middle of the mound, containing the central grave and its surrounding artefacts, but the complete structure. A large number of details that no one had previously paid attention to thus had to be included in the report. It had become a comprehensive and time-consuming work to sum up the desultory notebook records in a clear and understandable description.The instructions resulting from the new approach determined a special records system that made it possible to transcribe the notebook almost directly into a report following the excavation. The transcription thus contained all the relevant information concerning the in vestigation, and included both relics and soil layers, the excavation method and practical matters, although in a random order. The report proper could then bereduced to a short account containing references to the numbers in the transcribed notebook, which gave more detailed information.As can be imagined, the work of reform was not a continuous process. On the contrary, it had to be done in our spare hours, which were few and far between with an employer like Glob. The assignments crowded in, and the large Jutland map that we had purchased was as studded with pins as a hedge hog’s spines. Each pin represented an inuninent survey, and many of these grew into small or large excavations. Glob himself had his lecture duties to perform, and although he by no means exaggerated his concern for the students, he rarely made it further than to the surveys. Bibby and I had to deal with the hard fieldwork. And the society, once it was established, did not make our lives any easier. Kuml demanded articles written at lightning speed. A perusal of my then diary has given me a vivid recollection of this hectic period, in which I had to make use of the evening and night hours, when the museum was quiet and I had a chance to collect my thoughts. Sometimes our faithful supporter, the Lord Mayor, popped in after an evening meeting. He was extremely interested in our problems, which were then solved according to our abilities over a cup of instant coffee.A large archaeological association already existed in Denmark. How ever, Glob found it necessary to establish another one which would be less oppressed by tradition. Det kongelige nordiske Oldsskriftselskab had been funded in 1825 and was still influenced by different peculiarities from back then. Membership was not open to everyone, as applications were subject to recommendation from two existing members and approval by a vote at one of the monthly lecture meetings. Most candidates were of course accepted, but unpopular persons were sometimes rejected. In addition, only men were admitted – women were banned – but after the war a proposal was brought forward to change this absurdity. It was rejected at first, so there was a considerable excitement at the January meeting in 1951, when the proposal was once again placed on the agenda. The poor lecturer (myself) did his best, although he was aware of the fact that just this once it was the present and not the past which was the focus of attention. The result of the voting was not very courteous as there were still many opponents, but the ladies were allowed in, even if they didn’t get the warmest welcome.In Glob’s society there were no such restrictions – everyone was welcome regardless of sex or age. If there was a model for the society, it was the younger and more progressive Norwegian Archaeological Society rather than the Danish one. The main purpose of both societies was to produce an annual publication, and from the start Glob’s Kuml had a closer resemblance to the Norwegian Viking than to the Danish Aarbøger for nordisk Oldkyndighed og Historie. The name of the publication caused careful consideration. For a long time I kept a slip of paper with different proposals, one of which was Kuml, which won after having been approved by the linguist Peter Skautrup.The name alone, however, was not enough, so now the task became to find so mething to fill Kuml with. To this end the finds came in handy, and as for those, Glob must have allied him self with the higher powers, since fortune smiled at him to a considerable extent. Just after entering upon his duties in Aarhus, an archaeological sensation landed at his feet. This happened in May 1950 when I was still living in the capital. A few of us had planned a trip to Aarhus, partly to look at the relics of th e past, and partly to visit our friend, the professor. He greeted us warmly and told us the exciting news that ten iron swords had been found during drainage work in the valley of lllerup Aadal north of the nearby town of Skanderborg. We took the news calmly as Glob rarely understated his affairs, but our scepticism was misplaced. When we visited the meadow the following day and carefully examined the dug-up soil, another sword appeared, as well as several spear and lance heads, and other iron artefacts. What the drainage trench diggers had found was nothing less than a place of sacrifice for war booty, like the four large finds from the 1800s. When I took up my post in Aarhus in September of that year I was granted responsibility for the lllerup excavation, which I worked on during the autumn and the following six summers. Some of my best memories are associated with this job – an interesting and happy time, with cheerful comradeship with a mixed bunch of helpers, who were mainly archaeology students. When we finished in 1956, it was not because the site had been fully investigated, but because the new owner of the bog plot had an aversion to archaeologists and their activities. Nineteen years later, in 1975, the work was resumed, this time under the leadership of Jørgen Ilkjær, and a large amount of weaponry was uncovered. The report from the find is presently being published.At short intervals, the year 1952 brought two finds of great importance: in Februar y the huge vessel from Braa near Horsens, and in April the Grauballe Man. The large Celtic bronze bowl with the bulls’ heads was found disassembled, buried in a hill and covered by a couple of large stones. Thanks to the finder, the farmer Søren Paaske, work was stopped early enough to leave areas untouched for the subsequent examination.The saga of the Grauballe Man, or the part of it that we know, began as a rumour on the 26th of April: a skeleton had been found in a bog near Silkeborg. On the following day, which happened to be a Sunday, Glob went off to have a look at the find. I had other business, but I arrived at the museum in the evening with an acquaintance. In my diary I wrote: ”When we came in we had a slight shock. On the floor was a peat block with a corpse – a proper, well-preserved bog body. Glob brought it. ”We’ll be in trouble now.” And so we were, and Glob was in high spirits. The find created a sensation, which was also thanks to the quick presentation that we mounted. I had purchased a tape recorder, which cost me a packet – not a small handy one like the ones you get nowadays, but a large monstrosity with a steel tape (it was, after all, early days for this device) – and assisted by several experts, we taped a number of short lectures for the benefit of the visitors. People flocked in; the queue meandered from the exhibition room, through the museum halls, and a long way down the street. It took a long wait to get there, but the visitors seemed to enjoy the experience. The bog man lay in his hastily – procured exhibition case, which people circled around while the talking machine repeatedly expressed its words of wisdom – unfortunately with quite a few interruptions as the tape broke and had to be assembled by hand. Luckily, the tape recorders now often used for exhibitions are more dependable than mine.When the waves had died down and the exhibition ended, the experts examined the bog man. He was x-rayed at several points, cut open, given a tooth inspection, even had his fingerprints taken. During the autopsy there was a small mishap, which we kept to ourselves. However, after almost fifty years I must be able to reveal it: Among the organs removed for investigation was the liver, which was supposedly suitable for a C-14 dating – which at the time was a new dating method, introduced to Denmark after the war. The liver was sent to the laboratory in Copenhagen, and from here we received a telephone call a few days later. What had been sent in for examination was not the liver, but the stomach. The unfortunate (and in all other respects highly competent) Aarhus doctor who had performed the dissection was cal1ed in again. During another visit to the bogman’s inner parts he brought out what he believed to be the real liver. None of us were capable of deciding th is question. It was sent to Copenhagen at great speed, and a while later the dating arrived: Roman Iron Age. This result was later revised as the dating method was improved. The Grauballe Man is now thought to have lived before the birth of Christ.The preservation of the Grauballe Man was to be conservation officer Kornbak’s masterpiece. There were no earlier cases available for reference, so he invented a new method, which was very successful. In the first volumes of Kuml, society members read about the exiting history of the bog body and of the glimpses of prehistoric sacrificial customs that this find gave. They also read about the Bahrain expeditions, which Glob initiated and which became the apple of his eye. Bibby played a central role in this, as it was he who – at an evening gathering at Glob’s and Harriet’s home in Risskov – described his stay on the Persian Gulf island and the numerous burial mounds there. Glob made a quick decision (one of his special abilities was to see possibilities that noone else did, and to carry them out successfully to everyone’s surprise) and in December 1952 he and Bibby left for the Gulf, unaware of the fact that they were thereby beginning a series of expeditions which would continue for decades. Again it was Glob’s special genius that was the decisive factor. He very quickly got on friendly terms with the rulers of the small sheikhdoms and interested them in their past. As everyone knows, oil is flowing plentifully in those parts. The rulers were thus financially powerful and some of this wealth was quickly diverted to the expeditions, which probably would not have survived for so long without this assistance. To those of us who took part in them from time to time, the Gulf expeditions were an unforgettable experience, not just because of the interesting work, but even more because of the contact with the local population, which gave us an insight into local manners and customs that helped to explain parts of our own country’s past which might otherwise be difficult to understand. For Glob and the rest of us did not just get close to the elite: in spite of language problems, our Arab workers became our good friends. Things livened up when we occasionally turned up in their palm huts.Still, co-operating with Glob was not always an easy task – the sparks sometimes flew. His talent of initiating things is of course undisputed, as are the lasting results. He was, however, most attractive when he was in luck. Attention normally focused on this magnificent person whose anecdotes were not taken too seriously, but if something went wrong or failed to work out, he could be grossly unreasonable and a little too willing to abdicate responsibility, even when it was in fact his. This might lead to violent arguments, but peace was always restored. In 1954, another museum curator was attached to the museum: Poul Kjærum, who was immediately given the important task of investigating the dolmen settlement near Tustrup on Northern Djursland. This gave important results, such as the discovery of a cult house, which was a new and hitherto unknown Stone Age feature.A task which had long been on our mind s was finally carried out in 1955: constructing a new display of the museum collections. The old exhibitio n type consisted of numerous artefacts lined up in cases, accompaied ony by a brief note of the place where it was found and the type – which was the standard then. This type of exhibition did not give much idea of life in prehistoric times.We wanted to allow the finds to speak for themselves via the way that they were arranged, and with the aid of models, photos and drawings. We couldn’t do without texts, but these could be short, as people would understand more by just looking at the exhibits. Glob was in the Gulf at the time, so Kjærum and I performed the task with little money but with competent practical help from conservator Kornbak. We shared the work, but in fairness I must add that my part, which included the new lllerup find, was more suitable for an untraditional display. In order to illustrate the confusion of the sacrificial site, the numerous bent swords and other weapons were scattered a.long the back wall of the exhibition hall, above a bog land scape painted by Emil Gregersen. A peat column with inlaid slides illustrated the gradual change from prehistoric lake to bog, while a free-standing exhibition case held a horse’s skeleton with a broken skull, accompanied by sacrificial offerings. A model of the Nydam boat with all its oars sticking out hung from the ceiling, as did the fine copy of the Gundestrup vessel, as the Braa vessel had not yet been preserved. The rich pictorial decoration of the vessel’s inner plates was exhibited in its own case underneath. This was an exhibition form that differed considerably from all other Danish exhibitions of the time, and it quickly set a fashion. We awaited Glob’s homecoming with anticipation – if it wasn’t his exhibition it was still made in his spirit. We hoped that he would be surprised – and he was.The museum was thus taking shape. Its few employees included Jytte Ræbild, who held a key position as a secretary, and a growing number of archaeology students who took part in the work in various ways during these first years. Later, the number of employees grew to include the aforementioned excavation pioneer Georg Kunwald, and Hellmuth Andersen and Hans Jørgen Madsen, whose research into the past of Aarhus, and later into Danevirke is known to many, and also the ethnographer Klaus Ferdinand. And now Moesgaard appeared on the horizon. It was of course Glob’s idea to move everything to a manor near Aarhus – he had been fantasising about this from his first Aarhus days, and no one had raised any objections. Now there was a chance of fulfilling the dream, although the actual realisation was still a difficult task.During all this, the Jutland Archaeological Society thrived and attracted more members than expected. Local branches were founded in several towns, summer trips were arranged and a ”Worsaae Medal” was occasionally donated to persons who had deserved it from an archaeological perspective. Kuml came out regularly with contributions from museum people and the like-minded. The publication had a form that appealed to an inner circle of people interested in archaeology. This was the intention, and this is how it should be. But in my opinion this was not quite enough. We also needed a publication that would cater to a wider public and that followed the same basic ideas as the new exhibition.I imagined a booklet, which – without over-popularsing – would address not only the professional and amateur archaeologist but also anyone else interested in the past. The result was Skalk, which (being a branch of the society) published its fir t issue in the spring of 1957. It was a somewhat daring venture, as the financial base was weak and I had no knowledge of how to run a magazine. However, both finances and experience grew with the number of subscribers – and faster than expected, too. Skalk must have met an unsatisfied need, and this we exploited to the best of our ability with various cheap advertisem*nts. The original idea was to deal only with prehistoric and medieval archaeology, but the historians also wanted to contribute, and not just the digging kind. They were given permission, and so the topic of the magazine ended up being Denmark’s past from the time of its first inhabitant s until the times remembered by the oldest of us – with the odd sideways leap to other subjects. It would be impossible to claim that Skalk was at the top of Glob’s wish list, but he liked it and supported the idea in every way. The keeper of national antiquities, Johannes Brøndsted, did the same, and no doubt his unreserved approval of the magazine contributed to its quick growth. Not all authors found it easy to give up technical language and express themselves in everyday Danish, but the new style was quickly accepted. Ofcourse the obligations of the magazine work were also sometimes annoying. One example from the diary: ”S. had promised to write an article, but it was overdue. We agreed to a final deadline and when that was overdue I phoned again and was told that the author had gone to Switzerland. My hair turned grey overnight.” These things happened, but in this particular case there was a happy ending. Another academic promised me three pages about an excavation, but delivered ten. As it happened, I only shortened his production by a third.The 1960s brought great changes. After careful consideration, Glob left us to become the keeper of national antiquities. One important reason for his hesitation was of course Moesgaard, which he missed out on – the transfer was almost settled. This was a great loss to the Aarhus museum and perhaps to Glob, too, as life granted him much greater opportunities for development.” I am not the type to regret things,” he later stated, and hopefully this was true. And I had to choose between the museum and Skalk – the work with the magazine had become too timeconsuming for the two jobs to be combined. Skalk won, and I can truthfully say that I have never looked back. The magazine grew quickly, and happy years followed. My resignation from the museum also meant that Skalk was disengaged from the Jutland Archaeological Society, but a close connection remained with both the museum and the society.What has been described here all happened when the museum world was at the parting of the ways. It was a time of innovation, and it is my opinion that we at the Prehistoric Museum contributed to that change in various ways.The new Museum Act of 1958 gave impetus to the study of the past. The number of archaeology students in creased tremendously, and new techniques brought new possibilities that the discussion club of the 1940s had not even dreamt of, but which have helped to make some of the visions from back then come true. Public in terest in archaeology and history is still avid, although to my regret, the ahistorical 1960s and 1970s did put a damper on it.Glob is greatly missed; not many of his kind are born nowadays. He had, so to say, great virtues and great fault s, but could we have done without either? It is due to him that we have the Jutland Archaeological Society, which has no w existed for half a century. Congr tulat ion s to the Society, from your offspring Skalk.Harald AndersenSkalk MagazineTranslated by Annette Lerche Trolle

Abstract:

The article presents a part of research on the students’ attitude towards foreigners, in particular Ukrainian citizens. In Poland it is currently the largest group of foreigners, as well as the largest group of foreign students studying at Polish universities. The text contains references to the sociological concept of “foreign”, especially to G. Simmel’s, and also to the category of “stereotype”, which is usually associated with the perception of different nationalities. The presented fragment of research compares the attitude of students to the stereotype of a Ukrainian, which has been acknowledged and consolidated in Poland over the years of common history. Respondents also rated functioning of Ukrainian acquaintances at the university and in the dorm. Respondents in their opinion claim that the group of Ukrainians is large, but it is almost invisible at the university. This is due to the low access of foreigners to student life and isolation among “their own”. The attitude of Polish youth is certainly significant for this type of behavior. Polish students, despite declarations, do not make enough effort to get to know and maintain closer contacts with colleagues from Ukraine.

Abstract:

JAMPERSAL is a government program which is to decrease maternal death and fetal death. Based on first data from the result survey in 5 health volunteer of public hospital at the district Keputih public hospital about JAMPERSAL’s knowledge on May 2013 , there was 3 health volunteer who didn’t know about JAMPERSAL program. This research is to know the knowledge level of health volunteer about JAMPERSAL after getting a socialization. This research take place at the district of public hospital of Keputih Surabaya. The research design is using descriptif. The population is every health volunteer of public hospital who joined the socialization of JAMPERSAL at the district Keputih public hospital in 2013 are 20 people. This research are taken by using total sampling with one variable is knowledge level. The research data is primary data taken from quesioner which is fill by the repondent.The data will be processed with editing, scoring, coding, tabulating. Then the data will be analized in descriptif, after that it reserved in frequency distribution table and crossed. Then the next step is to explain the result in naratif. The result of this research is from 20 respondent, most of them ( 60% ) have an enough knowledge, (40%) less knowledge The conclusion of this research is almost health volunteer who had joined JAMPESAL socialization have an enough knowledge. A public health should be resosialization about JAMPERSAL program for health volunteer by using case study and leaflet.

Abstract:

JAMPERSAL is a government program which is to decrease maternal death and fetal death. Based on first data from the result survey in 5 health volunteer of public hospital at the district Keputih public hospital about JAMPERSAL’s knowledge on May 2013 , there was 3 health volunteer who didn’t know about JAMPERSAL program. This research is to know the knowledge level of health volunteer about JAMPERSAL after getting a socialization. This research take place at the district of public hospital of Keputih Surabaya. The research design is using descriptif. The population is every health volunteer of public hospital who joined the socialization of JAMPERSAL at the district Keputih public hospital in 2013 are 20 people. This research are taken by using total sampling with one variable is knowledge level. The research data is primary data taken from quesioner which is fill by the repondent.The data will be processed with editing, scoring, coding, tabulating. Then the data will be analized in descriptif, after that it reserved in frequency distribution table and crossed. Then the next step is to explain the result in naratif. The result of this research is from 20 respondent, most of them ( 60% ) have an enough knowledge, (40%) less knowledge The conclusion of this research is almost health volunteer who had joined JAMPESAL socialization have an enough knowledge. A public health should be resosialization about JAMPERSAL program for health volunteer by using case study and leaflet

Abstract:

It is not enough to train a naval officer, he needs to be “developed” The history of the Polish Navy reveals a multitude of events concerning personnel matters, which in turn introduce us to the issues of loyalty and what I referred to as “development” in the title. By and large, we know quite a lot about the training and education of senior officers, although it may be that we look at the process too superficially and fail to see that it is not woven with exclusively positive values. In my article I raise that we are often saddled with misconceptions concerning the officer’s service, which we want to view in the pantheon of national glory, with the officer emerging as the embodiment of the superior soldierly and civic virtues. I referred to the Government Act – Constitution of 3 May 1791, but only to the extent of reiterating that „the army is a force drawn from the people” and stating “like nation, like army”. I attempted to strongly emphasize the principle of loyalty, because I believe that it gets lost in the maze of diverse qualities that we tend, often uncritically, to attribute to officers, and I considered “development” as one of the most serious challenges, because it essentially determines what officers guard our security.

Abstract:

All critics declare not only their judgment of the work but also their claim to the right to talk about it and judge it. In short, they take part in a struggle for the monopoly of legitimate discourse about the work of art, and consequently in the production of the value of the work of art. (Pierre Bourdieu 36). As it becomes blindingly obvious that ‘cultural production’, including the cinema, now underpins an economy every bit as brutal in its nascent state as the Industrial Revolution was for its victims 200 years ago, both critique and cinephilia seem faded and useless to me. (Meaghan Morris 700). The music’s loud, the lights are low. I’m at a party and somebody’s shouting at me. “How many films do you see every week?” “Do you really get in for free?” “So what should I see next Saturday night?” These are the questions that shape the small talk of my life. After seven years of reviewing movies you’d think I’d have ready answers and sparkling rehearsed tip-offs to scatter at the slightest quiver of interest. And yet I feel anxious when I’m asked to predict some stranger’s enjoyment – their 15-odd bucks worth of dark velvet pleasure. Who am I to say what they’ll enjoy? Who am I to judge what’s worthwhile? As editor of the film pages of The Big Issue magazine (Australian edition), I make such value judgments every day, sifting through hundreds of press releases, invitations and interview offers. I choose just three films and three DVDs to be reviewed each fortnight, and one film to form the subject of a feature article or interview. The film pages are a very small part of an independent magazine that exists to provide an income for the homeless and long-term unemployed people who sell it on the streets of Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbane, Adelaide and Perth. And no, homeless people don’t go to the movies very often but our relatively educated and affluent city-dwelling readers do. The letters page of the magazine suggests that readers’ favourite pages are the Vendor Portraits – the extraordinary and sobering photographs and life stories of the people who are out there on the streets selling the magazine. Yet the editorial policy is to maintain a certain lightness of touch amidst the serious business. Thus, the entertainment pages (music, books, film, TV and humour) have no specific social justice agenda. But if there’s a new Australian film out there that deals with the topic of homelessness, it seems imperative to at least consider the story. Rather than offering in-depth analysis of particular films and the ways I go about judging them, the following diary excerpts instead offer a sketch of the practical process of editorial decision-making. Why review this film and not that one? Why interview this actor or that film director? And how do these choices fit within the broad goals of a social justice publication? Created randomly, from a quick scan of the last twelve months, the diary is a scribbled attempt to justify, or in Bourdieu’s terms, “legitimate” the critical role I play, and to try and explain how that role can never be fully defined by an aesthetic that is divorced from social and political realities. August 2004 My editor calls me and asks if I’ve seen Tom White, the new low-budget Australian film by Alkinos Tsilimidos. I have, and I hated it. Starring Colin Friels, the film follows the journey of a middle-aged middle-class man who walks out of his life and onto the streets. It’s a grimy, frustrating film, supported by only the barest bones of narrative. I was bored and infuriated by the central character, and I know it’s the kind of under-developed story that’s keeping Australian audiences away from our own films. And yet … it’s a local film that actually dares to tackle issues of homelessness and mental illness, and it’s a story that presents a truth about homelessness that’s borne out by many of our vendors: that any one of us could, except by the grace of God or luck, find ourselves sleeping rough. My editor wants me to interview Colin Friels, who will appear on the cover of the magazine. I don’t want to touch the film, and I prefer interviewing people whose work genuinely interests and excites me. But there are other factors to be considered. The film’s exhibitor, Palace Films, is offering to hold charity screenings for our benefit, and they are regular advertising supporters of The Big Issue. My editor, a passionate and informed film lover himself, understands the quandary. We are in no way beholden to Palace, he assures me, and we can tread the fine line with this film, using it to highlight the important issues at hand, without necessarily recommending the film to audiences. It’s tricky and uncomfortable; a simple example of the way in which political and aesthetic values do not always dance so gracefully together. Nevertheless, I find a way to write the story without dishonesty. September 2004 There’s no denying the pleasure of writing (or reading) a scathing film review that leaves you in stitches of laughter over the dismembered corpse of a bad movie. But when space is limited, I’d rather choose the best three films every fortnight for review and recommendation. In an ideal world I’d attend every preview and take my pick. They’d be an excitingly diverse mix. Say, one provocative documentary (maybe Mike Moore or Errol Morris), one big-budget event movie (from the likes of Scorsese or Tarantino), and one local or art-house gem. In the real world, it’s a scramble for deadlines. Time is short and some of the best films only screen in one or two states, making it impossible for us to cover them for our national audience. Nevertheless, we do our best to keep the mix as interesting and timely as possible. For our second edition this month I review the brilliant documentary Metallica: Some Kind of Monster (Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky), while I send other reviewers to rate Spielberg’s The Terminal (only one and a half stars out of five), and Cate Shortland’s captivating debut Australian feature Somersault (four stars). For the DVD review page we look at a boxed set of The Adventures of Tintin, together with the strange sombre drama House of Sand and Fog (Vadim Perelman), and the gripping documentary One Day in September (Kevin MacDonald) about the terrorist attacks at the 1972 Munich Olympic Games. As editor, I try to match up films with the writers who’ll best appreciate them. With a 200-word limit we know that we’re humble ‘reviewers’ rather than lofty ‘critics’, and that we can only offer the briefest subjective response to a work. Yet the goal remains to be entertaining and fair, and to try and evaluate films on their own terms. Is this particular movie an original and effective example of the schlocky teen horror thriller? If so, let’s give it the thumbs up. Is this ‘worthy’ anti-globalisation documentary just a boring preachy sermon with bad hand-held camera work? Then we say so. For our film feature article this edition, I write up an interview with Italian director Luigi Falorni, whose simple little film The Weeping Camel has been reducing audiences to tears. It’s a strange quiet film, a ‘narrative documentary’ set in the Gobi desert, about a mother camel that refuses to give milk to her newborn baby. There’s nothing political or radical about it. It’s just beautiful and interesting and odd. And that’s enough to make it worthy of attention. November 2004 When we choose to do a ‘celebrity’ cover, we find pretty people with serious minds and interesting causes. This month two gorgeous film stars, Natalie Portman and Gael Garcia Bernal find their way onto our covers. Portman’s promoting the quirky coming of age film, Garden State (Zach Braff), but the story we run focuses mainly on her status as ambassador for the Foundation of International Community Assistance (FINCA), which offers loans to deprived women to help them start their own businesses. Gabriel Garcia Bernal, the Mexican star of Walter Salle’s The Motorcycle Diaries appears on our cover and talks about his role as the young Che Guevara, the ultimate idealist and symbol of rebellion. We hope this appeals to those radicals who are prepared to stop in the street, speak to a homeless person, and shell out four dollars for an independent magazine – and also to all those shallow people who want to see more pictures of the hot-eyed Latin lad. April 2005 Three Dollars is Robert Connelly’s adaptation of Elliot Perlman’s best-selling novel about economic rationalism and its effect on an average Australian family. I loved the book, and the film isn’t bad either, despite some unevenness in the script and performances. I interview Frances O’Connor, who plays opposite David Wenham as his depressed underemployed wife. O’Connor makes a beautiful cover-girl, and talks about the seemingly universal experience of depression. We run the interview alongside one with Connelly, who knows just how to pitch his film to an audience interested in homelessness. He gives great quotes about John Howard’s heartless Australia, and the way we’ve become an economy rather than a society. It’s almost too easy. In the reviews section of the magazine we pan two other Australian films, Paul Cox’s Human Touch, and the Jimeoin comedy-vehicle The Extra. I’d rather ignore bad Australian films and focus on good films from elsewhere, or big-budget stinkers that need to be brought down a peg. But I’d lined up reviews for these local ones, expecting them to be good, and so we run with the negativity. Some films are practically critic-proof, but small niche films, like most Australian titles, aren’t among these Teflon giants. As Joel Pearlman, Managing Director of Roadshow Films has said, “There are certain types of films that are somewhat critic-proof. They’ve either got a built-in audience, are part of a successful franchise, like The Matrix or Bond films, or have a popular star. It’s films without the multimillion-dollar ad campaigns and the big names where critics are far more influential” ( Pearlman in Bolles 19). Sometimes I’m glad that I’m just a small fish in the film critic pond, and that my bad reviews can’t really destroy someone’s livelihood. It’s well known that a caning from reviewers like David Stratton and Margaret Pomeranz (ABC, At the Movies), or the Melbourne Age’s Jim Schembri can practically destroy the prospects of a small local film, and I’m not sure I have the bravery or conviction of the value of my own tastes to bear such responsibility. Admittedly, that’s just gutless tender-heartedness for, as reviewers, our responsibility is to the audience not to the filmmaker. But when you’ve met with cash-strapped filmmakers, and heard their stories and their struggles, it’s sometimes hard to put personal compassion aside and see the film as the punter will. But you must. August 2005 It’s a busy time with the Melbourne International Film Festival just finishing up. Hordes of film directors accompany their films to the festival, promoting them here ahead of a later national release schedule, and making themselves available for rare face-to face interviews. This year I find a bunch of goodies that seem like they were tailor-made for our readership. There are winning local films like Sarah Watt’s life-affirming debut Look Both Ways; and Rowan Woods’ gritty addiction-drama Little Fish. There’s my personal favourite, Bahman Ghobadi’s stunning and devastating Kurdish/Iranian feature Turtles Can Fly; and Avi Lewis’s inspiring documentary The Take, about Argentine factory workers who unite to revive their bankrupt workplaces. It’s when I see films like this, and get to talk to the people who bring them into existence, that I realize how much I value writing about films for a publication that doesn’t exist just to make a profit or fill space between advertisem*nts. As the great American critic Jonathan Rosenbaum has eloquently argued, most of the worldwide media coverage concerning film is merely a variation on the ‘corporate stories’ that film studios feed us as part of their advertising. To be able to provide some small resistance to that juggernaut is a wonderful privilege. I love to be lost in the dark, studying films frame by frame, and with reference only to some magical internal universe of ‘cinema’ and its endless references to itself. But as the real world outside falls apart, such airless cinephilia feels just plain wrong. As a writer whose subject is films, what I’m compelled to do is to come out of the cinema and try to use my words to convey the best of what I’ve seen to my friends and readers, pointing them towards small treasures they may have overlooked amidst the hype. So maybe I’m not a ‘pure’ critic, and maybe there’s no shame in that. The films I’ll gravitate towards share an almost indefinable quality – to use Jauss’s phrase, they reconstruct and expand my “horizon of expectation” (28). Sometimes these films are overtly committed to a cause, but often they’re just beautiful and strange and fresh. Always they expand me, open me, make me feel that there’s more to the world than expected, and make me want more too – more information, more freedom, more compassion, more equality, more beauty. And, after all these years in the dark, I still want more films like that. Endnotes As of August 2005, the role of DVD editor of The Big Issue has been filled by Anthony Morris. According the latest Morgan Poll, readers of The Big Issue are likely to be young (18-39), urban, educated, and affluent professionals. Current readership is estimated at 144,000 fortnightly and growing. References Bolles, Scott. “The Critics.” Sunday Life. The Age 10 Jul. 2005: 19. Bourdieu, Pierre. The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and Literature. Ed. Randal Johnson. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1993. Jauss, Hans Robert. Toward an Aesthetic of Reception. Trans. Timothy Bahti. Minnesota: U of Minnesota P, 1982. Morris, Meaghan. “On Going to Bed Early: Once Upon a Time in America.” Meanjin 4 (1998): 700. Rosenbaum, Jonathan. “Junket Bonds.” Chicago Reader Movie Review (2000). 2 Sept. 2005 http://www.chicagoreader.com/movies/archives/2000/1000/00117.html>. The Big Issue Australia. http://www.bigissue.org.au/> 10 Oct. 2005. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Siemienowicz, Rochelle. "Diary of a Film Reviewer: Intimate Reflections on Writing about the Screen for a Popular Audience." M/C Journal 8.5 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0510/01-siemienowicz.php>. APA Style Siemienowicz, R. (Oct. 2005) "Diary of a Film Reviewer: Intimate Reflections on Writing about the Screen for a Popular Audience," M/C Journal, 8(5). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0510/01-siemienowicz.php>.

Abstract:

PurposeWhile the commons problem and the issues related to the negative externalities of harvesting have been studied extensively, there remains a need to bridge these two streams of studies to comprehensively investigate the implications of the strategic interactions among resource harvesters in the presence of such negative externalities. This paper aims to fill this gap.Design/methodology/approachThe authors study a common-pool harvest problem when the extractive activities leave behind negative externalities which affect the resource growth rate and reduce the stock beyond the extracted levels. Markov perfect noncooperative and optimal solutions are presented under different scenarios regarding considerations of negative externalities into harvest decisions.FindingsResults of the study suggest that, in the presence of such externalities, all parties must scale down their extraction in accordance with their externalities. The resource can be preserved by implementation of such harvest rule. However, failure to incorporate the externalities exacerbates the commons problem and can even lead to exhaustion of the biomass even if countries manage to cooperate and coordinate their harvest. Suggesting that if such externalities are large enough – which empirical literature suggests they are – then recognition and consideration of these externalities in the harvest decisions is as crucial as cooperation.Originality/valueThis paper provides a framework that is capable of incorporating the negative externalities of harvest activities into a bioeconomic game theoretic model and thereby providing a more real-world representation of the state of the common-pool resource management. While, the authors extend a well-known simple model, the model of this research study has the capacity to explain the widespread incidences of resource collapses. Therefore, the important policy implication is that agents should rigorously work together to understand the extent of the negative externalities of their harvests on the resources.

Abstract:

Background Not enough is known about how the family justice system is working, the children and families using these services, and their wider outcomes beyond their involvement with the family court. The Nuffield Family Justice Observatory (FJO) Data Partnership, comprising a bespoke analysis platform hosted within the Secure Anonymised Information Linkage (SAIL) Databank and analytical teams at Lancaster and Swansea Universities, has been established to address this knowledge deficit. MethodsFamily justice data is being deposited in the SAIL Databank. Data are acquired using a standardised split-file approach, stored in an anonymised format and made available to projects as linked data using a unique encrypted project anonymised linkage field. These data can be augmented with a wealth of available health, education and other governmental/social routinely collected datasets, and future data acquired from other sources, for a range of research projects. ResultsChildren and Family Court Advisory and Support Service (Cafcass) Cymru data has been transferred to the SAIL Databank, and agreements to transfer the Cafcass England data are being finalised. Applications are now welcomed to use these data to enhance understanding of the family justice system and children and families involved with the family courts in public and private law. Access will be facilitated through the SAIL Databank, subject to relevant governance procedures. ConclusionWe will discuss the rationale of the Nuffield FJO Data Partnership, and how it aims to a) increase capacity and capability of researchers and data scientists utilising family justice and other relevant administrative datasets, b) improve understanding about the family justice system using data from the Cafcass in England and Wales, c) demonstrate the complexities and value of data linkage, and d) assist future policy and practice development. We will discuss matching rates for the Cafcass Cymru data and linkages that have been made to other datasets within the SAIL Databank. We will also set out the support available from the partnership to those wishing to access and utilise family justice data.

Abstract:

Tujuan dari penelitian ini adalah untuk menggambarkan keberadaan cerita rakyat di Wilayah Kabupaten Cianjur. Cerita rakyat yang ada di Kabupaten Cianjur memiliki ragam jenis yang berbeda. Berdasarkan pada isi tersebut cerita rakyat itu ada yang tergolong mite, fabel, parabel, dan legenda. Keempat jenis ragam cerita ini masih cukup dikenal di dalam kehidupan masyarakat, baik anak-anak, remaja maupun dewasa. Dengan demikian jelaslah bahwa cerita rakyat, khususnya legenda merupakan materi yang dapat menciptakan berkembangnya cerita rakyat yang bercorak baru dan selaras dengan perkembangan zaman. Fungsi cerita rakyat khususnya legenda di Kabupaten Cianjur memiliki fungsi sebagai berikut: (1) Sebagai alat untuk mewariskan tata cara hidup, dat istiadat, dan kebiasaan, (2) Sebagai alat untuk mewariskan kepercayaan, (3) Sebagai alat untuk menyampaikan pendidikan, baik pendidikan lahir maupun batin, (4) Sebagai cara untuk meyampaikan asal-usul terjadinya hal-hal yang mengandung sejarah, (5) Sebagai alat hiburan, mengisi waktu senggang. Penutur cerita rakyat cukup beragam, baik umur, jenis kelamin maupun pekerjaan. Dilihat dari jenis kelamin penutur pria lebih banyak jika dibandingkan dengan wanita, umur penutur rata-rata berkisar dari 36-80 tahun. Adapun pekerjaan umumnya sebagai pendidik (guru). Para penutur umumnya orang-orang yang dianggap mengenal dengan baik daerahnya masing-masing dan dianggap cukup mampu untuk memberikan informasi tentang daerahnya. Para penutur ini umumnya bersuku Sunda. The aim of this study was to describe the presence of folklore in Cianjur Regency. The folklore in Cianjur Regency has a variety of types. Based on the contents, the folklore covers myth, fable, parable, and legend. The four types are still well known in public life, whether children, adolescents and adults. Thus, it is clear that the folklore, in particular the legend, is the material that can create a new development of folklore characters and in tune with the times. The functions of folklore, in particular legend, in Cianjur cover (1) as a means to pass on the way of life, traditions, and customs; (2) as a means to pass on trust; (3) as a means to deliver inner and outer education; (4) as a way to present the origin of the things that contains history; and (5) as a means of entertainment, to fill spare time. The folklore tellers are quite diverse in age, gender, or occupation. Mostly, they are men. The average age of the tellers ranged from 36-80 years old. Generally, they are educators (teachers). The tellers are commonly the people who are considered to know well their regions and are considered capable enough to provide information about the area. The tellers are generally the Sundanese.

Abstract:

PurposeWith the growing importance of performance measurement and management, this exploratory study intends to examine the practices of maintenance managers with regards to maintenance measures, as used in their organizations. In this process, the study attempts to uncover the relevant maintenance performance dimensions from the perspectives of the surveyed managers. In addition, the mediating effect of information availability on the main performance measures utilization is studied.Design/methodology/approachThe research at hand is survey-based. It utilizes the responses of a sample of ninety-five (95) experienced maintenance managers to identify the most relevant maintenance performance measures. Factor analysis is then utilized to uncover the important dimensions of performance, as seen by the respondents. Additionally, using the Partial Least Squares method, several models were studied.FindingsThe findings of this exploratory research appear to suggest that maintenance managers are beginning to broaden their perspective with regard to performance management. While machine and plant-related performance measures are still emphasized, maintenance managers are slowly moving toward a wider organizational orientation. While the manufacturing organizations are becoming more and more customer-oriented open systems, the maintenance function of these organizations is still, for the most part, operating under the semi-open system orientation. Overall, it appears that an emerging maintenance strategy is slowly taking shape.Research limitations/implicationsFor the most part, performance measures and measurement related to maintenance have not received enough attention from researchers. Therefore, the literature dealing with the different facets of performance in maintenance has not been forthcoming. The study attempts to fill this apparent gap in the literature. This is important, as maintenance managers are being asked to contribute to the achievement of the competitive strategies of their organizations. Therefore, they must quickly learn how to view maintenance from a coherent strategic organizational perspective. Such a perspective should help in integrating the maintenance, resources, capabilities, and technical know-how in order to serve the strategic goal of their organization. The research at hand is limited to a sample from Portugal. Therefore, the results and conclusions must be interpreted accordingly.Practical implicationsAs maintenance managers struggle to move from a machine-orientation to a more organizational-wide strategic orientation, they are often left with many questions and few answers. This study attempts to bring this problem to the spotlight so that it can receive more systematic empirical and practical research. In this context, the role of maintenance managers in the process of organizational strategy formulation should be examined.Originality/valueThe study presented in this article has practical, as well as theoretical contributions. It deals with an area of performance measurement, which so far has been relatively ignored. It uses a system orientation (closed vs open), in addition to the strategic orientation (single vs multi-faceted strategy) in order to shed some light on the need to have consistency between the nature of the system and its strategic objective.

Abstract:

1909–22: Turkey exterminated over 1.5 million of its ethnically Armenian, and hundreds of thousands of its ethnically Greek and Assyrian, citizens. Most died in 1915. This period of decimation in now widely called the Armenian Genocide (Balakian 179-80).1910: Siamanto first published his poem, The Dance: “The corpses were piled as trees, / and from the springs, from the streams and the road, / the blood was a stubborn murmur.” When springs run red, when the dead are stacked tree-high, when “everything that could happen has already happened,” then time is nothing: “there is no future [and] the language of civilised humanity is not our language” (Nichanian 142).2007: In my novel The Edge of the World a ceramic bowl, luminous blue, recurs as motif. Imagine you are tiny: the bowl is broken but you don’t remember breaking it. You’re awash with tears. You sit on the floor, gather shards but, no matter how you try, you can’t fix it. Imagine, now, that the bowl is the sky, huge and upturned above your head. You have always known, through every wash of your blood, that life is shockingly precarious. Silence—between heartbeats, between the words your parents speak—tells you: something inside you is terribly wrong; home is not home but there is no other home; you “can never be fully grounded in a community which does not share or empathise with the experience of persecution” (Wajnryb 130). This is the stubborn murmur of your body.Because time is nothing, this essay is fragmented, non-linear. Its main characters: my mother, grandmother (Hovsanna), grandfather (Benyamin), some of my mother’s older siblings (Krikor, Maree, Hovsep, Arusiak), and Mustafa Kemal Ataturk (Ottoman military officer, Young Turk leader, first president of Turkey). 1915–2013: Turkey invests much energy in genocide denial, minimisation and deflection of responsibility. 24 April 2012: Barack Obama refers to the Medz Yeghern (Great Calamity). The use of this term is decried as appeasem*nt, privileging political alliance with Turkey over human rights. 2003: Between Genocide and Catastrophe, letters between Armenian-American theorist David Kazanjian and Armenian-French theorist Marc Nichanian, contest the naming of the “event” (126). Nichanian says those who call it the Genocide are:repeating every day, everywhere, in all places, the original denial of the Catastrophe. But this is part of the catastrophic structure of the survivor. By using the word “Genocide”, we survivors are only repeating […] the denial of the loss. We probably cannot help it. We are doing what the executioner wanted us to do […] we claim all over the world that we have been “genocided;” we relentlessly need to prove our own death. We are still in the claws of the executioner. We still belong to the logic of the executioner. (127)1992: In Revolution and Genocide, historian Robert Melson identifies the Armenian Genocide as “total” because it was public policy intended to exterminate a large fraction of Armenian society, “including the families of its members, and the destruction of its social and cultural identity in most or all aspects” (26).1986: Boyajian and Grigorian assert that the Genocide “is still operative” because, without full acknowledgement, “the ghosts won’t go away” (qtd. in Hovannisian 183). They rise up from earth, silence, water, dreams: Armenian literature, Armenian homes haunted by them. 2013: My heart pounds: Medz Yeghern, Aksor (Exile), Anashmaneli (Indefinable), Darakrutiun (Deportation), Chart (Massacre), Brnagaght (Forced migration), Aghed (Catastrophe), Genocide. I am awash. Time is nothing.1909–15: Mustafa Kemal Ataturk was both a serving Ottoman officer and a leader of the revolutionary Young Turks. He led Ottoman troops in the repulsion of the Allied invasion before dawn on 25 April at Gallipoli and other sites. Many troops died in a series of battles that eventually saw the Ottomans triumph. Out of this was born one of Australia’s founding myths: Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZACs), courageous in the face of certain defeat. They are commemorated yearly on 25 April, ANZAC Day. To question this myth is to risk being labelled traitor.1919–23: Ataturk began a nationalist revolution against the occupying Allies, the nascent neighbouring Republic of Armenia, and others. The Allies withdrew two years later. Ataturk was installed as unofficial leader, becoming President in 1923. 1920–1922: The last waves of the Genocide. 2007: Robert Manne published A Turkish Tale: Gallipoli and the Armenian Genocide, calling for a recontextualisation of the cultural view of the Gallipoli landings in light of the concurrence of the Armenian Genocide, which had taken place just over the rise, had been witnessed by many military personnel and widely reported by international media at the time. Armenian networks across Australia were abuzz. There were media discussions. I listened, stared out of my office window at the horizon, imagined Armenian communities in Sydney and Melbourne. Did they feel like me—like they were holding their breath?Then it all went quiet. Manne wrote: “It is a wonderful thing when, at the end of warfare, hatred dies. But I struggle to understand why Gallipoli and the Armenian Genocide continue to exist for Australians in parallel moral universes.” 1992: I bought an old house to make a home for me and my two small children. The rooms were large, the ceilings high, and behind it was a jacaranda with a sturdy tree house built high up in its fork. One of my mother’s Armenian friends kindly offered to help with repairs. He and my mother would spend Saturdays with us, working, looking after the kids. Mum would stay the night; her friend would go home. But one night he took a sleeping bag up the ladder to the tree house, saying it reminded him of growing up in Lebanon. The following morning he was subdued; I suspect there were not as many mosquitoes in Lebanon as we had in our garden. But at dinner the previous night he had been in high spirits. The conversation had turned, as always, to politics. He and my mother had argued about Turkey and Russia, Britain’s role in the development of the Middle East conflict, the USA’s roughshod foreign policy and its effect on the world—and, of course, the Armenian Genocide, and the killingof Turkish governmental representatives by Armenians, in Australia and across the world, during the 1980s. He had intimated he knew the attackers and had materially supported them. But surely it was the beer talking. Later, when I asked my mother, she looked at me with round eyes and shrugged, uncharacteristically silent. 2002: Greek-American diva Diamanda Galas performed Dexifiones: Will and Testament at the Perth Concert Hall, her operatic work for “the forgotten victims of the Armenian and Anatolian Greek Genocide” (Galas).Her voice is so powerful it alters me.1925: My grandmother, Hovsanna, and my grandfather, Benyamin, had twice been separated in the Genocide (1915 and 1922) and twice reunited. But in early 1925, she had buried him, once a prosperous businessman, in a swamp. Armenians were not permitted burial in cemeteries. Once they had lived together in a big house with their dozen children; now there were only three with her. Maree, half-mad and 18 years old, and quiet Hovsep, aged seven,walked. Then five-year-old aunt, Arusiak—small, hungry, tired—had been carried by Hovsanna for months. They were walking from Cilicia to Jerusalem and its Armenian Quarter. Someone had said they had seen Krikor, her eldest son, there. Hovsanna was pregnant for the last time. Together the four reached Aleppo in Syria, found a Christian orphanage for girls, and Hovsanna, her pregnancy near its end, could carry Arusiak no further. She left her, promising to return. Hovsanna’s pains began in Beirut’s busy streets. She found privacy in the only place she could, under a house, crawled in. Whenever my mother spoke of her birth she described it like this: I was born under a stranger’s house like a dog.1975: My friend and I travelled to Albany by bus. After six hours we were looking down York Street, between Mount Clarence and Mount Melville, and beyond to Princess Royal Harbour, sapphire blue, and against which the town’s prosperous life—its shopfronts, hotels, cars, tourists, historic buildings—played out. It took away my breath: the deep harbour, whaling history, fishing boats. Rain and sun and scudding cloud; cliffs and swells; rocky points and the white curves of bays. It was from Albany that young Western Australian men, volunteers for World War I, embarked on ships for the Middle East, Gallipoli, sailing out of Princess Royal Harbour.1985: The Australian Government announced that Turkey had agreed to have the site of the 1915 Gallipoli landings renamed Anzac Cove. Commentators and politicians acknowledged it as historic praised Turkey for her generosity, expressed satisfaction that, 70 years on, former foes were able to embrace the shared human experience of war. We were justifiably proud of ourselves.2005: Turkey made her own requests. The entrance to Albany’s Princess Royal Harbour was renamed Ataturk Channel. A large bronze statue of Ataturk was erected on the headland overlooking the Harbour entrance. 24 April 1915: In the town of Hasan Beyli, in Cilicia, southwest Turkey, my great grandfather, a successful and respected businessman in his 50s, was asleep in his bed beside his wife. He had been born in that house, as had his father, grandfather, and all his children. His brother, my great uncle, had bought the house next door as a young man, brought his bride home to it, lived there ever since; between the two households there had been one child after another. All the cousins grew up together. My great grandfather and great uncle had gone to work that morning, despite their wives’ concerns, but had returned home early. The women had been relieved to see them. They made coffee, talked. Everyone had heard the rumours. Enemy ships were massing off the coast. 1978: The second time in Albany was my honeymoon. We had driven into the Goldfields then headed south. Such distance, such beautiful strangeness: red earth, red rocks; scant forests of low trees, thin arms outstretched; the dry, pale, flat land of Norseman. Shimmering heat. Then the big, wild coast.On our second morning—a cool, overcast day—we took our handline to a jetty. The ocean was mercury; a line of cormorants settled and bobbed. Suddenly fish bit; we reeled them in. I leaned over the jetty’s side, looked down into the deep. The water was clear and undisturbed save the twirling of a pike that looked like it had reversed gravity and was shooting straight up to me. Its scales flashed silver as itbroke the surface.1982: How could I concentrate on splicing a film with this story in my head? Besides the desk, the only other furniture in the editing suite was a whiteboard. I took a marker and divided the board into three columns for the three generations: my grandparents, Hovsanna and Benyamin; my mother; someone like me. There was a lot in the first column, some in the second, nothing in the third. I stared at the blankness of my then-young life.A teacher came in to check my editing. I tried to explain what I had been doing. “I think,” he said, stony-faced, “that should be your third film, not your first.”When he had gone I stared at the reels of film, the white board blankness, the wall. It took 25 years to find the form, the words to say it: a novel not a film, prose not pictures.2007: Ten minutes before the launch of The Edge of the World, the venue was empty. I made myself busy, told myself: what do you expect? Your research has shown, over and over, this is a story about which few know or very much care, an inconvenient, unfashionable story; it is perfectly in keeping that no-one will come. When I stepped onto the rostrum to speak, there were so many people that they crowded the doorway, spilled onto the pavement. “I want to thank my mother,” I said, “who, pretending to do her homework, listened instead to the story her mother told other Armenian survivor-women, kept that story for 50 years, and then passed it on to me.” 2013: There is a section of The Edge of the World I needed to find because it had really happened and, when it happened, I knew, there in my living room, that Boyajian and Grigorian (183) were right about the Armenian Genocide being “still operative.” But I knew even more than that: I knew that the Diaspora triggered by genocide is both rescue and weapon, the new life in this host nation both sanctuary and betrayal. I picked up a copy, paced, flicked, followed my nose, found it:On 25 April, the day after Genocide memorial-day, I am watching television. The Prime Minister stands at the ANZAC memorial in western Turkey and delivers a poetic and moving speech. My eyes fill with tears, and I moan a little and cover them. In his speech he talks about the heroism of the Turkish soldiers in their defence of their homeland, about the extent of their losses – sixty thousand men. I glance at my son. He raises his eyebrows at me. I lose count of how many times Kemal Ataturk is mentioned as the Father of Modern Turkey. I think of my grandmother and grandfather, and all my baby aunts and uncles […] I curl over like a mollusc; the ache in my chest draws me in. I feel small and very tired; I feel like I need to wash.Is it true that if we repeat something often enough and loud enough it becomes the truth? The Prime Minister quotes Kemal Ataturk: the ANZACS who died and are buried on that western coast are deemed ‘sons of Turkey’. My son turns my grandfather’s, my mother’s, my eyes to me and says, It is amazing they can be so friendly after we attacked them.I draw up my knees to my chest, lay my head and arms down. My limbs feel weak and useless. My throat hurts. I look at my Australian son with his Armenian face (325-6).24 April 1915 cont: There had been trouble all my great grandfather’s life: pogrom here, massacre there. But this land was accustomed to colonisers: the Mongols, the Persians, latterly the Ottomans. They invade, conquer, rise, fall; Armenians stay. This had been Armenian homeland for thousands of years.No-one masses ships off a coast unless planning an invasion. So be it. These Europeans could not be worse than the Ottomans. That night, were my great grandfather and great uncle awoken by the pounding at each door, or by the horses and gendarmes’ boots? They were seized, each family herded at gunpoint into its garden, and made to watch. Hanging is slow. There could be no mistakes. The gendarmes used the stoutest branches, stayed until they were sure the men weredead. This happened to hundreds of prominent Armenian men all over Turkey that night.Before dawn, the Allies made landfall.Each year those lost in the Genocide are remembered on 24 April, the day before ANZAC Day.1969: I asked my mother if she had any brothers and sisters. She froze, her hands in the sink. I stared at her, then slipped from the room.1915: The Ottoman government decreed: all Armenians were to surrender their documents and report to authorities. Able-bodied men were taken away, my grandfather among them. Women and children, the elderly and disabled, were told to prepare to walk to a safe camp where they would stay for the duration of the war. They would be accompanied by armed soldiers for their protection. They were permitted to take with them what they could carry (Bryce 1916).It began immediately, pretty young women and children first. There are so many ways to kill. Months later, a few dazed, starved survivors stumbled into the Syrian desert, were driven into lakes, or herded into churches and set alight.Most husbands and fathers were never seen again. 2003: I arrived early at my son’s school, parked in the shade, opened The Silence: How Tragedy Shapes Talk, and began to read. Soon I was annotating furiously. Ruth Wajnryb writes of “growing up among innocent peers in an innocent landscape” and also that the notion of “freedom of speech” in Australia “seems often, to derive from that innocent landscape where reside people who have no personal scars or who have little relevant historical knowledge” (141).1984: I travelled to Vancouver, Canada, and knocked on Arusiak’s door. Afraid she would not agree to meet me, I hadn’t told her I was coming. She was welcoming and gracious. This was my first experience of extended family and I felt loved in a new and important way, a way I had read about, had observed in my friends, had longed for. One afternoon she said, “You know our mother left me in an orphanage…When I saw her again, it was too late. I didn’t know who they were, what a family was. I felt nothing.” “Yes, I know,” I replied, my heart full and hurting. The next morning, over breakfast, she quietly asked me to leave. 1926: When my mother was a baby, her 18 year-old sister, Maree, tried to drown her in the sea. My mother clearly recalled Maree’s face had been disfigured by a sword. Hovsanna, would ask my mother to forgive Maree’s constant abuse and bad behaviour, saying, “She is only half a person.”1930: Someone gave Hovsanna the money to travel to Aleppo and reclaim Arusiak, by then 10 years old. My mother was intrigued by the appearance of this sister but Arusiak was watchful and withdrawn. When she finally did speak to my then five-year-old mother, she hissed: “Why did she leave me behind and keep you?”Soon after Arusiak appeared, Maree, “only half a person,” disappeared. My mother was happy about that.1935: At 15, Arusiak found a live-in job and left. My mother was 10 years old; her brother Hovsep, who cared for her before and after school every day while their mother worked, and always had, was seventeen. She adored him. He had just finished high school and was going to study medicine. One day he fell ill. He died within a week.1980: My mother told me she never saw her mother laugh or, once Hovsep died, in anything other than black. Two or three times before Hovsep died, she saw her smile a little, and twice she heard her singing when she thought she was alone: “A very sad song,” my mother would say, “that made me cry.”1942: At seventeen, my mother had been working as a live-in nanny for three years. Every week on her only half-day off she had caught the bus home. But now Hovsanna was in hospital, so my mother had been visiting her there. One day her employer told her she must go to the hospital immediately. She ran. Hovsanna was lying alone and very still. Something wasn’t right. My mother searched the hospital corridors but found no-one. She picked up a phone. When someone answered she told them to send help. Then she ran all the way home, grabbed Arusiak’s photograph and ran all the way back. She laid it on her mother’s chest, said, “It’s all right, Mama, Arusiak’s here.”1976: My mother said she didn’t like my boyfriend; I was not to go out with him. She said she never disobeyed her own mother because she really loved her mother. I went out with my boyfriend. When I came home, my belongings were on the front porch. The door was bolted. I was seventeen.2003: I read Wajnryb who identifies violent eruptions of anger and frozen silences as some of the behaviours consistent in families with a genocidal history (126). 1970: My father had been dead over a year. My brothers and I were, all under 12, made too much noise. My mother picked up the phone: she can’t stand us, she screamed; she will call an orphanage to take us away. We begged.I fled to my room. I couldn’t sit down. I couldn’t keep still. I paced, pressed my face into a corner; shook and cried, knowing (because she had always told us so) that she didn’t make idle threats, knowing that this was what I had sometimes glimpsed on her face when she looked at us.2012: The Internet reveals images of Ataturk’s bronze statue overlooking Princess Royal Harbour. Of course, it’s outsized, imposing. The inscription on its plinth reads: "Peace at Home/ Peace in the World." He wears a suit, looks like a scholar, is moving towards us, a scroll in his hand. The look in his eyes is all intensity. Something distant has arrested him – a receding or re-emerging vision. Perhaps a murmur that builds, subsides, builds again. (Medz Yeghern, Aksor, Aghed, Genocide). And what is written on that scroll?2013: My partner suggested we go to Albany, escape Perth’s brutal summer. I tried to explain why it’s impossible. There is no memorial in Albany, or anywhere else in Western Australia, to the 1.5 million victims of the Armenian Genocide. ReferencesAkcam, Taner. “The Politics of Genocide.” Online Video Clip. YouTube. YouTube, 11 Dec. 2011. 6 Mar. 2013 ‹http://www.youtube.com/watchv=OxAJaaw81eU&noredirect=1genocide›.Balakian, Peter. The Burning Tigress: The Armenian Genocide. London: William Heinemann, 2004.BBC. “Kemal Ataturk (1881–1938).” BBC History. 2013. 6 Mar. 2013 ‹http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/historic_figures/ataturk_kemal.shtml›.Boyajian, Levon, and Haigaz Grigorian. “Psychological Sequelae of the Armenian Genocide.”The Armenian Genocide in Perspective. Ed. Richard Hovannisian. New Brunswick: Transaction, 1987. 177–85.Bryce, Viscount. The Treatment of the Armenians in the Ottoman Empire. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1916.Galas, Diamanda. Program Notes. Dexifiones: Will and Testament. Perth Concert Hall, Perth, Australia. 2001.———.“Dexifiones: Will and Testament FULL Live Lisboa 2001 Part 1.” Online Video Clip. YouTube, 5 Nov. 2011. Web. 6 Mar. 2013 ‹http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mvVnYbxWArM›.Kazanjian, David, and Marc Nichanian. “Between Genocide and Catastrophe.” Loss. Eds. David Eng and David Kazanjian. Los Angeles: U of California P, 2003. 125–47.Manne, Robert. “A Turkish Tale: Gallipoli and the Armenian Genocide.” The Monthly Feb. 2007. 6 Mar. 2013 ‹http://www.themonthly.com.au/turkish-tale-gallipoli-and-armenian-genocide-robert-manne-459›.Matiossian, Vartan. “When Dictionaries Are Left Unopened: How ‘Medz Yeghern’ Turned into a Terminology of Denial.” The Armenian Weekly 27 Nov. 2012. 6 Mar. 2013 ‹http://www.armenianweekly.com/2012/11/27/when-dictionaries-are-left-unopened-how-medz-yeghern-turned-into-terminology-of-denial/›.Melson, Robert. Revolution and Genocide. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1996.Nicholson, Brendan. “ASIO Detected Bomb Plot by Armenian Terrorists.” The Australian 2 Jan. 2012. 6 Mar. 2013 ‹http://www.theaustralian.com.au/in-depth/cabinet-papers/asio-detected-bomb-plot-by-armenian-terrorists/story-fnbkqb54-1226234411154›.“President Obama Issues Statement on Armenian Remembrance Day.” The Armenian Weekly 24 Apr. 2012. 5 Mar. 2013 ‹http://www.armenianweekly.com/2012/04/24/president-obama-issues-statement-on-armenian-remembrance-day/›.Polain, Marcella. The Edge of the World. Fremantle: Fremantle Press, 2007.Siamanto. “The Dance.” Trans. Peter Balakian and Nervart Yaghlian. Adonias Dalgas Memorial Page 5 Mar. 2013 ‹http://www.terezakis.com/dalgas.html›.Stockings, Craig. “Let’s Have a Truce in the Battle of the Anzac Myth.” The Australian 25 Apr. 2012. 6 Mar. 2013 ‹http://www.theaustralian.com.au/national-affairs/opinion/lets-have-a-truce-in-the-battle-of-the-anzac-myth/story-e6frgd0x-1226337486382›.Wajnryb, Ruth. The Silence: How Tragedy Shapes Talk. Crows Nest: Allen and Unwin, 2001.

Abstract:

The role and main tasks of various network traps (Honeypot) in the construction of integrated security systems are defined. Basic classification signs and features of the primary tuning of a few commercial facilities software solutions. It is concluded that the main advantages of Honeypot technology, among other things, are their flexibility and scalability. It is emphasized that at present there are no perfect methods of identification and rapid compromise of network traps. Attention is drawn to the fact that network intelligence tactics and methods of network attacks are constantly progressing. Given this fact, the ongoing audit of HP data and prompt response to identified network incidents is one of the main areas of work for staff on compliance with corporate information security policy requirements. It is noted that the architecture of various traps, in general, is quite well known and therefore potentially vulnerable. Therefore, by providing traps with a more flexible (variable) scenario context and reducing the exposure time, it is possible to maintain their protective potential in the parity enough state. Both of these direction require closer attention (detailed analysis of log-files data and adjustment of behavioral avatar algorithms for the created trap) on the part of staff, and require constant support of them professional competencies. Based on the results of reviewing the capabilities of existing Honeypots and generalizing the typical features of network activity of the most characteristic nodes (in this case the file server), the features of synthesis of the corresponding behavioral profiles (avatars) are considered. It is claim that systematization of avatar rules Honeypot (as a set of behavioral algorithms) and timely correction of existing databases of behavioral profiles is a task that is difficult to formalize. This is caused to the potential variety of network activity options that are specific to each network and the individual settings of existing network nodes. In this sense, excessive unification (narrowing of the possible field of behavioral reactions) of behavioral profiles Honeypot can greatly facilitate the attacker to monitor and subsequently identify the trap created. Therefore, the formation of a basic set of relevant network avatars should be considered as a basis for its further modification under a special task, topology and other features of each individual IT structure (or features of their individual elements). It is emphasized that the introduction of trap technology does not replace other security technologies and tools, but only effectively expands the existing arsenal of countering new security threats (primarily as a tool for operational intelligence and rapid response). Therefore, the way to integrate net-traps with other security solutions is the most balanced way to further improve the overall security of network resources.

Abstract:

Phillip Noyce is one of Australia’s most prominent film makers—a successful feature film director with both iconic Australian narratives and many a Hollywood blockbuster under his belt. Still, his beginnings were quite humble and far from his role today when he grew up in the midst of the counterculture of the late sixties. Millions of young people his age joined the various ‘movements’ of the day after experiences that changed their lives—mostly music but also drugs or fashion. The counterculture was a turbulent time in Sydney artistic circles as elsewhere. Everything looked possible, you simply had to “Do It!”—and Noyce did. He dived head-on into these times and with a voracious appetite for its many aspects—film, theatre, rallies, music, art and politics in general. In fact he often was the driving force behind such activities. Noyce described his personal epiphany occurring in 1968: A few months before I was due to graduate from high school, […] I saw a poster on a telegraph pole advertising American 'underground' movies. There was a mesmerising, beautiful blue-coloured drawing on the poster that I later discovered had been designed by an Australian filmmaker called David Perry. The word 'underground' conjured up all sorts of delights to an eighteen-year-old in the late Sixties: in an era of censorship it promised erotica, perhaps; in an era of drug-taking it promised some clandestine place where marijuana, or even something stronger, might be consumed; in an era of confrontation between conservative parents and their affluent post-war baby-boomer children, it promised a place where one could get together with other like-minded youth and plan to undermine the establishment, which at that time seemed to be the aim of just about everyone aged under 30. (Petzke 8) What the poster referred to was a new, highly different type of film. In the US these films were usually called “underground”. This term originates from film critic Manny Farber who used it in his 1957 essay Underground Films. Farber used the label for films whose directors today would be associated with independent and art house feature films. More directly, film historian Lewis Jacobs referred to experimental films when he used the words “film which for most of its life has led an underground existence” (8). The term is used interchangeably with New American Cinema. It was based on a New York group—the Film-Makers’ Co-operative—that started in 1960 with mostly low-budget filmmakers under the guidance of Jonas Mekas. When in 1962 the group was formally organised as a means for new, improved ways of distributing their works, experimental filmmakers were the dominant faction. They were filmmakers working in a more artistic vein, slightly influenced by the European Avant-garde of the 1920s and by attempts in the late 1940s and early 1950s. In film history, this era is also known as the Third Avant-garde. In their First Statement of the New American Cinema Group, the group drew connections to both the British Free Cinema and the French Nouvelle Vague. They also claimed that contemporary cinema was “morally corrupt, aesthetically obsolete, thematically superficial, temperamentally boring” (80). An all-encompassing definition of Underground Film never was available. Sheldon Renan lists some of the problems: There are underground films in which there is no movement and films in which there is nothing but movement. There are films about people and films about light. There are short, short underground films and long, long underground films. There are some that have been banned, and there is one that was nominated for an Academy Award. There are sexy films and sexless films, political films and poetical films, film epigrams and film epics … underground film is nothing less than an explosion of cinematic styles, forms and directions. (Renan 17) No wonder that propelled by frequent serious articles in the press—notably Jonas Mekas in the Village Voice—and regular screenings at other venues like the Film-makers’ Cinemathèque and the Gallery of Modern Art in New York, these films proved increasingly popular in the United States and almost immediately spread like bush fires around the world. So in early September 1968 Noyce joined a sold-out crowd at the Union Theatre in Sydney, watching 17 shorts assembled by Ubu Films, the premier experimental and underground film collective in 1960s Australia (Milesago). And on that night his whole attitude to art, his whole attitude to movies—in fact, his whole life—changed. He remembered: I left the cinema that night thinking, "I’m gonna make movies like that. I can do it." Here was a style of cinema that seemed to speak to me. It was immediate, it was direct, it was personal, and it wasn’t industrial. It was executed for personal expression, not for profit; it was individual as opposed to corporate, it was stylistically free; it seemed to require very little expenditure, innovation being the key note. It was a completely un-Hollywood-like aesthetic; it was operating on a visceral level that was often non-linear and was akin to the psychedelic images that were in vogue at the time—whether it was in music, in art or just in the patterns on your multi-coloured shirt. These movies spoke to me. (Petzke 9) Generally speaking, therefore, these films were the equivalent of counterculture in the area of film. Theodore Roszak railed against “technocracy” and underground films were just the opposite, often almost do-it-yourself in production and distribution. They were objecting to middle-class culture and values. And like counterculture they aimed at doing away with repression and to depict a utopian lifestyle feeling at ease with each imaginable form of liberality (Doggett 469). Underground films transgressed any Hollywood rule and convention in content, form and technique. Mobile hand-held cameras, narrow-gauge or outright home movies, shaky and wobbly, rapid cutting, out of focus, non-narrative, disparate continuity—you name it. This type of experimental film was used to express the individual consciousness of the “maker”—no longer calling themselves directors—a cinematic equivalent of the first person in literature. Just as in modern visual art, both the material and the process of making became part of these artworks. Music often was a dominant factor, particularly Eastern influences or the new Beat Music that was virtually non-existent in feature films. Drug experiences were reflected in imagery and structure. Some of the first comings-out of gay men can be found as well as films that were shown at the appropriately named “Wet Dreams Festival” in Amsterdam. Noyce commented: I worked out that the leading lights in this Ubu Films seemed to be three guys — Aggy Read, Albie Thoms and David Perry […They] all had beards and […] seemed to come from the basem*nt of a terrace house in Redfern. Watching those movies that night, picking up all this information, I was immediately seized by three great ambitions. First of all, I wanted to grow a beard; secondly, I wanted to live in a terrace house in the inner city; and thirdly, I wanted to be a filmmaker. (Ubu Films) Noyce soon discovered there were a lot of people like him who wanted to make short films for personal expression, but also as a form of nationalism. They wanted to make Australian movies. Noyce remembered: “Aggy, Albie and David encouraged everyone to go and make a film for themselves” (Petzke 11). This was easy enough to do as these films—not only in Australia—were often made for next to nothing and did not require any prior education or training. And the target audience group existed in a subculture of people willing to pay money even for extreme entertainment as long as it was advertised in an appealing way—which meant: in the way of the rampaging Zeitgeist. Noyce—smitten by the virus—would from then on regularly attend the weekly meetings organised by the young filmmakers. And in line with Jerry Rubin’s contemporary adage “Do it!” he would immediately embark on a string of films with enthusiasm and determination—qualities soon to become his trademark. All his films were experimental in nature, shot on 16mm and were so well received that Albie Thoms was convinced that Noyce had a great career ahead of him as an experimental filmmaker. Truly alternative was Noyce’s way to finally finance Better to Reign in Hell, his first film, made at age 18 and with a total budget of $600. Noyce said on reflection: I had approached some friends and told them that if they invested in my film, they could have an acting role. Unfortunately, the guy whose dad had the most money — he was a doctor’s son — was also maybe the worst actor that was ever put in front of a camera. But he had invested four hundred dollars, so I had to give him the lead. (Petzke 13) The title was taken from Milton’s poem Paradise Lost (“better to reign in hell than serve in heaven”). It was a film very much inspired by the images, montage and narrative techniques of the underground movies watched at Ubu. Essentially the film is about a young man’s obsession with a woman he sees repeatedly in advertising and the hallucinogenic dreams he has about her. Despite its later reputation, the film was relatively mundane. Being shot in black and white, it lacks the typical psychedelic ingredients of the time and is more reminiscent of the surrealistic precursors to underground film. Some contempt for the prevailing consumer society is thrown in for good measure. In the film, “A youth is persecuted by the haunting reappearance of a girl’s image in various commercial outlets. He finds escape from this commercial brainwashing only in his own confused sexual hallucinations” (Sydney Filmmakers Co-operative). But despite this advertising, so convincingly capturing the “hint! hint!” mood of the time, Noyce’s first film isn’t really outstanding even in terms of experimental film. Noyce continued to make short experimental films. There was not even the pretence of a story in any of them. He was just experimenting with his gear and finding his own way to use the techniques of the underground cinema. Megan was made at Sydney University Law School to be projected as part of the law students’ revue. It was a three-minute silent film that featured a woman called Megan, who he had a crush on. Intersection was 2 minutes 44 seconds in length and shot in the middle of a five-way or four-way intersection in North Sydney. The camera was walked into the intersection and spun around in a continuous circle from the beginning of the roll of film to the end. It was an experiment with disorientation and possibly a comment about urban development. Memories was a seven-minute short in colour about childhood and the bush, accompanied by a smell-track created in the cinema by burning eucalyptus leaves. Sun lasted 90 seconds in colour and examined the pulsating winter sun by way of 100 single frame shots. And finally, Home was a one-and-a-half-minute single frame camera exploration of the filmmaker’s home, inside and out, including its inhabitants and pets. As a true experimental filmmaker, Noyce had a deep interest in technical aspects. It was recommended that Sun “be projected through a special five image lens”, Memories and Intersection with “an anamorphic lens” (Sydney Filmmakers Co-operative). The double projection for Better to Reign in Hell and the two screens required for Good Afternoon, as well as the addition of the smell of burning leaves in Memories, were inroads into the subgenre of so-called Expanded Cinema. As filmmaking in those days was not an isolated enterprise but an integral part of the all-encompassing Counterculture, Noyce followed suit and became more and more involved and politiced. He started becoming a driving force of the movement. Besides selling Ubu News, he organised film screenings. He also wrote film articles for both Honi Soit and National U, the Sydney University and Canberra University newspapers—articles more opinionated than sophisticated. He was also involved in Ubu’s Underground Festival held in August and in other activities of the time, particularly anti-war protests. When Ubu Films went out of business after the lack of audience interest in Thoms’s long Marinetti film in 1969, Aggy Read suggested that Ubu be reinvented as a co-operative for tax reasons and because they might benefit from their stock of 250 Australian and foreign films. On 28 May 1970 the reinvention began at the first general meeting of the Sydney Filmmakers Cooperative where Noyce volunteered and was elected their part-time manager. He transferred the 250 prints to his parents’ home in Wahroonga where he was still living he said he “used to sit there day after day just screening those movies for myself” (Petzke 18). The Sydney University Film Society screened feature films to students at lunchtime. Noyce soon discovered they had money nobody was spending and equipment no one was using, which seemed to be made especially for him. In the university cinema he would often screen his own and other shorts from the Co-op’s library. The entry fee was 50 cents. He remembered: “If I handed out the leaflets in the morning, particularly concentrating on the fact that these films were uncensored and a little risqué, then usually there would be 600 people in the cinema […] One or two screenings per semester would usually give me all the pocket money I needed to live” (Petzke 19). Libertine and risqué films were obviously popular as they were hard to come by. Noyce said: We suffered the worst censorship of almost any Western country in the world, even worse than South Africa. Books would be seized by customs officers at the airports and when ships docked. Customs would be looking for Lady Chatterley’s Lover. We were very censored in literature and films and plays, and my film [Better to Reign in Hell] was banned from export. I tried to send it to a film festival in Holland and it was denied an export permit, but because it had been shot in Australia, until someone in the audience complained it could still be screened locally. (Castaway's Choice) No wonder clashes with the law happened frequently and were worn like medals of honour in those days of fighting the system, proving that one was fighting in the front line against the conservative values of law and order. Noyce encountered three brushes with the law. The first occurred when selling Ubu Films’ alternative culture newspaper Ubu News, Australia’s first underground newspaper (Milesago). One of the issues contained an advertisem*nt—a small drawing—for Levi’s jeans, showing a guy trying to put his Levis on his head, so that his penis was showing. That was judged by the police to be obscene. Noyce was found guilty and given a suspended sentence for publishing an indecent publication. There had been another incident including Phil’s Pill, his own publication of six or eight issues. After one day reprinting some erotic poems from The Penguin Collection of Erotic Poetry he was found guilty and released on a good behaviour bond without a conviction being recorded. For the sake of historical truth it should be remembered, though, that provocation was a genuine part of the game. How else could one seriously advertise Better to Reign in Hell as “a sex-fantasy film which includes a daring rape scene”—and be surprised when the police came in after screening this “p*rnographic film” (Stratton 202) at the Newcastle Law Students Ball? The Newcastle incident also throws light on the fact that Noyce organised screenings wherever possible, constantly driving prints and projectors around in his Mini Minor. Likewise, he is remembered as having been extremely helpful in trying to encourage other people with their own ideas—anyone could make films and could make them about anything they liked. He helped Jan Chapman, a fellow student who became his (first) wife in December 1971, to shoot and edit Just a Little Note, a documentary about a moratorium march and a guerrilla theatre group run by their friend George Shevtsov. Noyce also helped on I Happened to Be a Girl, a documentary about four women, friends of Chapman. There is no denying that being a filmmaker was a hobby, a full-time job and an obsessive religion for Noyce. He was on the organising committee of the First Australian Filmmakers’ Festival in August 1971. He performed in the agit-prop acting troupe run by George Shevtsov (later depicted in Renegades) that featured prominently at one of Sydney’s rock festival that year. In the latter part of 1971 and early 1972 he worked on Good Afternoon, a documentary about the Combined Universities’ Aquarius Arts Festival in Canberra, which arguably was the first major manifestation of counterculture in Australia. For this the Aquarius Foundation—the cultural arm of the Australian Union of Students—had contracted him. This became a two-screen movie à la Woodstock. Together with Thoms, Read and Ian Stocks, in 1972 he participated in cataloguing the complete set of films in distribution by the Co-op (see Sydney Filmmakers Cooperative). As can be seen, Noyce was at home in many manifestations of the Sydney counterculture. His own films had slowly become more politicised and bent towards documentary. He even started a newsreel that he used to screen at the Filmmakers’ Cooperative Cinema with a live commentary. One in 1971, Springboks Protest, was about the demonstrations at the Sydney Cricket Ground against the South African rugby tour. There were more but Noyce doesn’t remember them and no prints seem to have survived. Renegades was a diary film; a combination of poetic images and reportage on the street demonstrations. Noyce’s experimental films had been met with interest in the—limited—audience and among publications. His more political films and particularly Good Afternoon, however, reached out to a much wider audience, now including even the undogmatic left and hard-core documentarists of the times. In exchange, and for the first time, there were opposing reactions—but as always a great discussion at the Filmmakers’ Cinema, the main venue for independent productions. This cinema began with those initial screenings at Sydney University in the union room next to the Union Theatre. But once the Experimental Film Fund started operating in 1970, more and more films were submitted for the screenings and consequently a new venue was needed. Albie Thoms started a forum in the Yellow House in Kings Cross in May 1970. Next came—at least briefly—a restaurant in Glebe before the Co-op took over a space on the top floor of the socialist Third World Bookshop in Goulburn Street that was a firetrap. Bob Gould, the owner, was convinced that by first passing through his bookshop the audience would buy his books on the way upstairs. Sundays for him were otherwise dead from a commercial point of view. Noyce recollected that: The audience at this Filmmakers’ Cinema were mightily enthusiastic about seeing themselves up on the screen. And there was always a great discussion. So, generally the screenings were a huge success, with many full houses. The screenings grew from once a week, to three times on Sunday, to all weekend, and then seven days a week at several locations. One program could play in three different illegal cinemas around the city. (Petzke 26) A filmmakers’ cinema also started in Melbourne and the groups of filmmakers would visit each other and screen their respective films. But especially after the election of the Whitlam Labor government in December 1972 there was a shift in interest from risqué underground films to the concept of Australian Cinema. The audience started coming now for a dose of Australian culture. Funding of all kind was soon freely available and with such a fund the film co-op was able to set up a really good licensed cinema in St. Peters Lane in Darlinghurst, running seven days a week. But, Noyce said, “the move to St. Peters Lane was sort of the end of an era, because initially the cinema was self-funded, but once it became government sponsored everything changed” (Petzke 29). With money now readily available, egotism set in and the prevailing “we”-feeling rather quickly dissipated. But by the time of this move and the resulting developments, everything for Noyce had already changed again. He had been accepted into the first intake of the Interim Australian Film & TV School, another one of the nation-awareness-building projects of the Whitlam government. He was on his “long march through the institutions”—as this was frequently called throughout Europe—that would bring him to documentaries, TV and eventually even Hollywood (and return). Noyce didn’t linger once the alternative scene started fading away. Everything those few, wild years in the counterculture had taught him also put him right on track to become one of the major players in Hollywood. He never looked back—but he remembers fondly…References Castaway’s Choice. Radio broadcast by KCRW. 1990. Doggett, Peter. There’s a Riot Going On: Revolutionaries, Rock Stars and the Rise and Fall of ’60s Counter-Culture. Edinburgh: Canongate, 2007. Farber, Manny. “Underground Films.” Negative Space: Manny Farber on the Movies. Ed. Manny Farber. New York: Da Capo, 1998. 12–24. Jacobs, Lewis. “Morning for the Experimental Film”. Film Culture 19 (1959): 6–9. Milesago. “Ubu Films”. n.d. 26 Nov. 2014 ‹http://www.milesago.com/visual/ubu.htm›. New American Cinema Group. “First Statement of the New American Cinema Group.” Film Culture Reader. Ed. P. Adams Sitney. New York: Praeger, 1970. 73–75. Petzke, Ingo. Phillip Noyce: Backroads to Hollywood. Sydney: Pan McMillan, 2004. Renan, Sheldon. The Underground Film: An Introduction to Its Development in America. London: Studio Vista, 1968. Roszak, Theodore. The Making of Counter Culture. New York: Anchor, 1969. Stratton, David. The Last New Wave: The Australian Film Revival. Sydney: Angus and Robertson, 1980. Sydney Filmmakers Co-operative. Film Catalogue. Sydney: Sydney Filmmakers Co-operative, 1972. Ubu Films. Unreleased five-minute video for the promotion of Mudie, Peter. Ubu Films: Sydney Underground Movies 1965-1970. Sydney: UNSW Press, 1997.

Abstract:

Michael Haneke’s film Caché tells the story of a bourgeois family in peril. The comfortable lives of the Laurents—husband Georges (Daniel Auteuil), wife Anne (Juliette Binoche), and teenage son Pierrot (Lester Makedonsky)—are disrupted when surveillance tapes of their home and private conversations are delivered to them anonymously. Ostensibly Caché sits in a familiar generic framework: the thriller narrative of a family under threat is reminiscent of films such as The Desperate Hours (1955), Cape Fear (1962), and Straw Dogs (1971). The weight of outside forces causes tension within the family dynamic and Georges spends much of the film playing detective (unravelling clues from the tapes and from his past). This framing draws us in; it is presumed that the mystery of the family’s harassment will finally be solved, and yet Haneke’s treatment of this material undermines viewer expectations. This paper examines the process of suspicious reading when applied to a film that encourages such a method, only to thwart the viewer’s attempts to come to a definitive meaning. I argue that Caché plays with generic expectations in order to critique the interpretive process, and consider what implications this has for suspicious readers. Caché positions us as detective. Throughout the film we follow Georges’s investigation to unravel the film’s central enigma: Who is sending the tapes? The answer to this, however, is never revealed. Instead viewers are left with more questions than answers; it seems that for every explanation there is a circumventing intricacy. This lack of narrative closure within the surface framework of a psychological thriller has proven fertile ground for critics, scholars, and home viewers alike as they painstakingly try to ascertain the elusive culprit. Character motives are scrutinised, performances are analysed, specific shots are dissected, and various theories have been canvassed. The viewer becomes ensnared in the hermeneutics of suspicion, a critical reading strategy that literary theorist Rita Felski has compared to the hard-boiled crime story, a scenario in which critic becomes detective, and text becomes criminal suspect to be “scrutinized, interrogated, and made to yield its hidden secrets” (224). Like Georges, the viewer becomes investigator, sifting through the available evidence in the vain hope that with scrupulous attention the film will surrender its mystery.Of course, Haneke is not unique in his withholding of a film’s enigma. David Lynch’s surreal neo-noir Lost Highway (1997) and Mulholland Drive (2001) have garnered a similar response and continue to be debated. Film scholar Mark Cousins compares Caché’s reception at Cannes to other landmark film and television examples:Where Dallas made people ask ‘who?’, Twin Peaks ‘what?’, the genre-bending films of the last decade ‘how?’ and The Crying Game was about the implications of the answer, Caché’s conversational buzz was more circular. Yes, we asked ‘who?’ Then, when it was clear this question was not answered by the film, we considered why it was not answered. (225–6)Felski’s meditation on the hermeneutics of suspicion touches on this issue, considering literary texts as preemptive of our mistrust. Extending Felski’s reasoning here as applicable to other forms of cultural expression, I would like to argue that Caché is a film that “matches and exceeds the critic’s own vigilance” for it is already involved in “subverting the self-evident, challenging the commonplace, [and] relentlessly questioning idées fixes and idées recus” (Felski 217). Caché challenges fixed and received ideas pertaining to audience expectations of the thriller film, subverting generic conventions that traditionally see the enigma resolved, the culprit apprehended, and order restored. More than simply refusing closure, Caché casts doubt on the very clues it offers up as evidence. Such a text performs “a meta-commentary on the traps of interpretation, a knowing anticipation and exposure of all possible hermeneutic blunders” (Felski 217). Throughout her essay, Felski highlights the lures and pitfalls of suspicious reading practices. Felski warns that attempts to gain mastery over texts by drawing to light purportedly obscured meanings are often as concerned with self-congratulatory demonstrations of skill in drawing hitherto unmade connections as they are with the texts themselves (230). While I do not wish to endorse suspicious reading as an unproblematic approach, the present paper considers what happens when readers encounter a text that seemingly cannot be approached in any other way. Unlike the realist literary narratives and mystery stories drawn on by Felski, Caché resists a manifest meaning in both form and content, making it nearly impossible for viewers not to search for latent meaning.So where are suspicious readers left when the texts interrogated refuse to bend to the demands placed on them? This is the question I will be examining in the remainder of this paper through the questions Caché poses and the care it takes in ensuring its enigmatic quality. I will proceed by breaking down what I believe to be the three possible avenues of response—Caché as impossible puzzle, inconclusive puzzle, or wrong puzzle—and their implications.I The Impossible Puzzle Caché opens with a static frame long take of a Parisian residential street. This could be mistaken for a still image until a pedestrian bustles past. A woman leaves her house centre frame. A cyclist turns the corner. “Well?” a male voice intones. “Nothing,” a female replies. The voices come from off-screen, and soon after the image is interrupted by fast forward lines, revealing that what we have been watching is not an image of the present moment but a video cassette of time already elapsed; the voices belong to our protagonists, Georges and Anne, commenting on its content and manipulating its playback. From the opening moments it becomes clear that we cannot be certain of what we are seeing or when we are seeing it.This presents an intriguing tension between form and content that complicates our attempts to gather evidence. Haneke pares back style in a manner reminiscent of the films of Robert Bresson or the work of the Italian neo-realists. Caché’s long takes, naturalistic lighting, and emphasis on the everyday suggest a realist aesthetic; the viewer can invest faith in these images because they ascribe to a familiar paradigm, one in which artifice is apparently minimal. This notion that a realist aesthetic equates to straightforward images is at odds, however, with both the thriller narrative (in which solutions must be concealed before they can be uncovered) and Haneke’s constant undermining of the ontology of the image; throughout the film, viewers will be disoriented by Haneke’s manipulation of time and space with unclear or retroactive distinctions between past, present, video, dream, memory, and reality.An additional contention might be the seemingly impossible placement of the hidden camera. In the same tape, Georges leaves the house and walks towards the camera, unaware of it. The shot indicates the camera must be elevated in the street, and at one point it appears that Georges is looking right at it. A later recording takes place in the apartment of Georges’s suspect, Majid. Viewers are given ample opportunity to scour the mise en scène to find what apparently is not there. Perhaps the camera is just too well hidden. But if this is not the case and we can neither locate nor conceive of the camera’s placement because it simply cannot be there, this would seem to break the rules of the game. If we are to formulate theories as to the culprit at large, what good is our evidence if it is unreliable? Viewers could stop here and conclude that a puzzle without a solution amounts to a film without a point. “Well?” Georges asks in the film’s opening. “Nothing,” Anne replies. Case closed. Short of giving up on a solution, one might conclude (as Antoine Doinel has) that those looking within the film for a perpetrator are looking in the wrong place. When the motives or opportunities of on-screen characters do not add up, perhaps it is Haneke one should turn to. Those familiar with Haneke’s earlier film Funny Games (1997) will know he is not afraid to break the tacit rules by which we suspend our disbelief if there is a point to be made. Film scholar David Sorfa concludes it is in fact the audience who send the tapes; Caché’s narrative is fuelled by the desire of viewers who want to see a film (102). Tempting though these solutions might be (Georges does not see the camera because he is a fictional character in a film unaware of its creator), as critic Roger Ebert has pointed out, such theories render both the film’s content, and any analysis of it, without purpose: It introduces a wild card. It essentially means that no analysis of the film is relevant, because nothing need make sense and no character actions need be significant. Therefore, the film would have the appearance of a whodunit but with no who and no dunnit. (“Caché: A Riddle”)The Caché as impossible puzzle avenue leaves the suspicious reader without reason to engage. If there can be no reward for our efforts, we are left without incentive. Alternately, if we conclude that Haneke is but the puppet master sad*stically toying with his characters, we are left at a similar juncture; our critical enquiry has all the consequence of the trite “but it was all a dream…” scenario. “Well?” “Nothing.” I suspect there is more to Caché than that. A film so explicit in its stimulation of suspicious reading seems to merit our engagement. However, this is not to say that our attention will be satisfied with the neatly tied up solution we might expect. II The Inconclusive Puzzle When, one evening, Pierrot does not come home as expected, Georges and Anne conclude the boy has been kidnapped. They interpret their son’s absence as an escalation in the “campaign of terror” that had hitherto consisted of surveillance videos, odd phone calls, and childlike but portent drawings. With police assistance, Georges goes to confront his suspect, Majid. An Algerian boy from his childhood, now middle aged and disadvantaged because of lies Georges told as a child, Majid has already (quite convincingly) denied any knowledge of the tapes. At the door they meet Majid’s son who is equally perplexed at the accusation of kidnapping. The pair are arrested and an exhausted Georges returns home to explain the situation to his wife:Georges: So now they’re both in the cage for the night.Anne: And then?Georges: Then they’ll let them go. If there’s no proof, they have to. There’s suspicion, nothing more.The next day a sullen Pierrot returns home, having stayed the night at a friend’s without notifying his parents. His clear disdain for his mother is revealed as he rejects her affection and accuses her of having an affair. Pierrot likewise treats his father with disinterest, raising viewer suspicion that he might have a motive for tormenting his parents with the videotapes. Pierrot is just one cog in the family’s internal mechanism of suspicion, however. Whether or not Anne is actually having an affair can only be speculated; she denies it, but other scenes open the way to our suspicion. Anne is rightly suspicious of Georges’s reluctance to be open about his past as his proclivity to lie is gradually revealed. In short, Haneke deliberately layers the film with complexity and ambiguity; numerous characters could be implicated, and many questions are raised but few are answered.This suggests that suspicious readers might have recourse to Haneke as author of the text. Haneke, however, celebrates Caché’s ambiguity and his decision to leave the film open: “The truth is always hidden…that’s how it is in the real world. We never, ever know what the truth is. There are a thousand versions of the truth. It depends on your point of view” (Haneke). In interview, Haneke’s language also raises suspicion. At times he speaks knowingly (refusing to reveal important dialogue that occurs in the film’s final shot—an extreme long shot, the characters too distant to be heard), and at other times he seems as uncertain as his viewers (commenting on Anne’s denial of an affair, Haneke remarks “I believe her because she plays it very seriously. But you never know”) (Haneke).Despite this reluctance to offer explanations, Haneke’s status as an auteur with recurring concerns and an ever-developing vision prompts suspicious readers to evaluate Caché in light of his greater oeuvre. Those suspecting Pierrot of wanting to punish his parents might find their theory bolstered by Benny’s Video (1992), Haneke’s film about a teenage boy who murders a friend and then turns in his parents to the police for helping him cover it up. Furthermore, Das Weiße Band (The White Ribbon, 2009) is set in a small German village on the eve of World War One and the narrative strongly suggests the town’s children are responsible for a series of malicious crimes. Whilst malign children in Haneke’s other works cannot explain Caché’s mystery, his oeuvre provides a greater context in which to consider the film, and regenerates discussion as viewers look for patterns in the subject matter Haneke chooses to explore. Regarding Caché as an inconclusive puzzle shifts the emphasis from a neatly packaged solution to a renewable process of discovery. To suggest that there is an answer to be found in the text, a culprit who escapes apprehension but is at least present to be caught, gives suspicious readers cause to engage and re-engage. It is to assume that the film is not without a point. Close attention may reward us with meaningful nuances that colour our interpretation. Haneke’s obsessive attention to detail also seems to suggest that nothing on screen is accidental or arbitrary, that our concentration is warranted, and that active viewing is a necessity even if our expectations and desires for closure may not be granted.Caché ends without revealing its secret. Georges’s suspect Majid has committed suicide (perhaps due to the trauma dredged up by Georges’s accusations), Majid’s son has confronted Georges at his work place (“I wondered how it feels, a man’s life on your conscience?”), and Georges has refused any responsibility for his actions in the distant and recent past. Of the film’s conclusion, cinema theorist Martine Beugnet writes:In the end […] we watch him draw the curtains, take a sleeping pill and go to bed: an emphatic way of signifying the closure of an episode, the return to normality—the conclusion of the film. Yet the images ‘refuse’ to comply: behind the closing credits, the questioning gaze not only persists but affirms its capacity to reinvent itself. (230)The images Beugnet is referring to are the two final shots, which are both static long takes. The first is an extreme long shot, taken from the darkness of a barn into the bright courtyard of the family estate of Georges’s childhood. A child (Majid) is forcibly removed from the home and taken away in a car (presumably to an orphanage due to the lies told by a jealous Georges). This shot is followed by the film’s closing shot, another extreme long shot, this time of the front steps of Pierrot’s school. The frame is cluttered with children and parents, and our eyes are not directed anywhere in particular. Some viewers will notice Pierrot chatting with Majid’s son (a potentially revealing conversation that cannot be heard), others will not see the two young men hidden in the crowd. Eventually the credits roll over this image.Georges’s attempts to shut out the world seem undermined by these images, as Beugnet writes they “‘refuse’ to comply” to this notion of conclusion. Instead of bringing closure to the narrative, they raise more questions. What and when are they? One cannot be sure. The first shot may be a dream or a memory; its placement after a shot of Georges going to bed might encourage us to connect the two. The second shot at the school could be more surveillance footage, or possibly another dream. It might imply the boys have conspired together. It might imply Majid’s son is confronting Pierrot with information about his father. It could be interpreted as the end of the narrative, but it could also be the beginning. Some read it as threatening, others as hopeful. It might imply so many things. However, this “questioning gaze” that persists and reinvents itself is not just the gaze of the film. It is also the gaze of the suspicious reader. From the initial hype upon the film’s Cannes release in 2005, to the various theories circulating in online forums, to Ebert’s scrupulous re-evaluation of the film’s enigma in 2010, to the ever developing body of scholarly work on Haneke’s films, it seems Caché’s mileage for suspicious readers is still running strong, not least because “whodunit?” may be the wrong question.III The Wrong PuzzleOliver C. Speck has remarked that Caché is “Haneke’s most accessible film, but also the most densely layered,” leading the viewer “on a search for clues that always ends in frustration” (97). For Ebert, the film’s lack of resolution leaves the viewer “feeling as the characters feel, uneasy, violated, spied upon, surrounded by faceless observers” (“Caché”). Cousins likewise comments on the process Caché instigates: The film structures our experience in a generically gripping way but then the structure melts away at the moment when it should most cohere, requiring us to look back along its length (the structure’s length and the film’s) to work out where we went wrong. But we did not go wrong. We went where we were told to go, we took the hand of the narrative that, in the final stages, slipped away, leaving us without co-ordinates. (226)The "whodunit” of Caché cannot be definitively proven. Ultimately, viewers can have suspicion, nothing more. So where are we left as suspicious readers when texts such as Caché surpass our own critical vigilance? We can throw in the towel and claim that an impossible puzzle does not deserve our efforts. We can accept that the text has out-played us; it is an inconclusive but compelling puzzle that does not provide enough links in the hermeneutic chain for us to find the closure we seek. Alternately, when the answer is not forthcoming, we can hypothesise that perhaps we have been asking the wrong question; whodunit is beside the point, simply a Hitchco*ckian MacGuffin (the object or objective that the protagonists seek) introduced to bait us into confronting much more important questions. Perhaps instead we should be asking what Caché can tell us about colonial histories, guilt, vision, or the ontology of cinema itself.This is the avenue many scholars have taken, and the avenue Haneke (rather than his film necessarily) would have us take. The “who did what, when, why, and how” might be regarded as beside the point. In an interview with Andrew O’Hehir, Haneke is quoted:These superficial questions are the glue that holds the spectator in place, and they allow me to raise underlying questions that they have to grapple with. It’s relatively unimportant who sent the tapes, but by engaging with that the viewer must engage questions that are far less banal.Catherine Wheatley agrees, arguing Caché’s open ending renders the epistemological questions of the guilty party and their motives irrelevant, giving preference to questions raised by how this chain of events affect Georges, and by extension the viewer (163–4). By refusing to divulge its secrets, Caché both incites and critiques the interpretive process, encouraging us to take up the role of detective only to anticipate and exceed our investigative efforts. Caché’s subversion of the self-evident is as much a means to launch its thriller narrative as it is a way of calling into question our very understanding of what “self-evident” means. Where Felski describes suspicious interpretations of realist texts (those that attempt to unmask the ideologies concealed behind an illusion of transparency and totality), from its opening moments, Caché is already and constantly unmasking itself. The film’s resistance of a superficial reading seems to make suspicious interpretation inevitable. Wherever viewer suspicion is directed, however, it relies on engagement. Without reason to engage, viewers are left with an impossible puzzle where critical involvement and attention is of no consequence. “Who is sending the tapes?” may be an unimportant or unanswerable question, but it must always be a valid one. It is this query that incites and fuels the interpretive process. As there can only ever be suspicion, nothing more, perhaps it is the question rather than “the answer” that is of utmost significance.Works CitedBeugnet, Martine. “Blind Spot.” Screen 48.2 (2007): 227–31.Benny’s Video. Dir. Michael Haneke. Madman, 1992.Caché (Hidden). Dir. Michael Haneke. Sony Pictures Classics, 2005. Cape Fear. Dir. J. Lee Thompson. Universal, 1962.Cousins, Mark. “After the End: Word of Mouth and Caché.” Screen 48.2 (2007): 223–6.Desperate Hours, The. Dir. William Wyler. Paramount, 1955.Doinel, Antoine. “(Un)hidden Camera: The ‘Real’ Sender of the Tapes.” Mubi.com. Mubi. n.d. 10 Apr. 2011. ‹http://mubi.com/topics/461›. Ebert, Roger. “Caché.” Roger Ebert.com. Chicago Sun-Times. 13 Jan. 2006. 25 Feb. 2011. ‹http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060112/REVIEWS/51220007›.---. “Caché: A Riddle, Wrapped in a Mystery, Inside an Enigma [Response to Readers].” Roger Ebert’s Journal. Chicago Sun-Times. 18 Jan. 2010. 2 Apr. 2011. ‹http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2010/01/a_riddle_wrapped_in_a_mystery.html›.Felski, Rita. “Suspicious Minds.” Poetics Today 32.2 (2011): 215–34.Funny Games. Dir. Michael Haneke. Madman, 1997.Haneke, Michael. “Hidden: Interview with Michael Haneke by Serge Toubiana.” DVD Special Features. Hidden (Caché). Dir. Michael Haneke. Madman, 2005.Lost Highway. Dir. David Lynch. Universal, 1997.Mulholland Drive. Dir. David Lynch. Reel, 2001.O’Hehir, Andrew. “Michael Haneke’s ‘White Ribbon.’” Salon.com. Salon. 2 Jan. 2010. 2 Apr. 2011. ‹http://www.salon.com/entertainment/movies/andrew_ohehir/2010/01/02/haneke›.Sorfa, David. “Uneasy Domesticity in the Films of Michael Haneke.” Studies in European Cinema 3.2 (2006): 93–104.Speck, Oliver C. Funny Frames: The Filmic Concepts of Michael Haneke. New York: Continuum, 2010.Straw Dogs. Dir. Sam Peckinpah. MRA, 1971.Wheatley, Catherine. Michael Haneke’s Cinema: The Ethic of the Image. New York: Berghahn Books, 2009.White Ribbon, The (Das Weiße Band). Dir. Michael Haneke. Artificial Eye, 2009.

Abstract:

As a writer, researcher and avid book reader, I am drawn to books about books. But ever-so tentatively, as I know they can only mean one thing—more titles in which to add to my ever-growing list of books that I must have, that I must read, and that I will eventually feel compelled to write about. Recently, I finished So Many Books, So Little Time: A Year of Passionate Reading by Sara Nelson. Ms. Nelson is a librarian and knows whereof she speaks. She is unequivocal in her broad selection and speaks at length about things that only book munchers like myself know: “What draws a particular reader to a particular story can be completely idiosyncratic (Note to publishers: Pile on the details in your jacket copy. You never know what will attract someone). Reading is highly personal and often revealing. Readers have superstitious preferences and irrational dislikes. You can be drawn to a book because a character has your mother’s name, for example, or because she has red hair like your beloved third-grade teacher. You can get turned off to a story because the hero looks like the last man who broke your heart.” (115) And she is not the only librarian to get in on the action. Ms. Pearl wrote Book Lust: Recommended Reading for Every Moment, Mood and Reason and the just published More Book Lust. There are many other readers that simply could not help writing about books. Gabriel Zaid, for one, who wrote So Many Books: Reading and Publishing in an Age of Abundance. It seems we just cannot get enough of great book titles, the people who love them, what people are reading and why. And now, Nick Hornby, British wunderkind, has joined the bookmobile (bandwagon just didn’t seem right) with The Polysyllabic Spree (A Hilarious and True Account of One Man’s Struggle with the Monthly Tide of the Books He’s Bought and the Books He’s Been Meaning to Read). It is, in fact, a collection of his monthly columns for McSweeney’s magazine, The Believer. So while he did write it, he didn’t so much write the book as give the editor his columns and say, “Well, you do whatever it is you do. I’m off for a pint.” So he gets double the credit for the books he read and two sympathetic nods for the ones he didn’t finish (“Poor bloke! He’s got a job and kids. How’s he supposed to read all them books?”). But don’t be too hard on ol’ Nick. As he said in his impeccable novel and surprisingly great movie, High Fidelity, our books – what we own and what we read – are an extension of ourselves. And it’s not just books about books anymore. Magazine publishers got into the action with Bookmarks: For Everyone Who Hasn’t Read Everything, Barnes and Noble Presents Book and the British The Good Book Guide, which is simply a book catalogue with short descriptions on each title, with a handy order desk number to allow ordering with ease. The question is – how to take note of the onslaught of titles each month. Like Hornby, I write down my picks but only for the exclusive audience of one – me. For years now, I have kept a notebook on books to get – either from the library or to purchase for home. I am on Volume Three and quite frankly will need a new one soon. The book is a source of glory and sheer pain for me. On the one hand, I get so excited about titles I’ve just learned about and like Hornby, I can go through periods where I read all about a person or event in schizophrenic ways, flipping from nonfiction to fiction to a play to collections of their letters. The hard part for me is this: My library, which is the best library in the world – only allows me 50 holds at a time (don’t laugh). And there are many months when I can’t add another title to the list, because the titles I have already entered are still waiting to be brought in by others or even be ordered yet. Then there is the simple fact that I cannot read all the books I have listed. And it’s not that I want to read them all, but I do want the opportunity to at least, to decide whether they’re for me or not. Sigh. For the last five years, I have recorded all books that I have read and completed. At first I wanted to record those that I merely browsed, skimmed or left altogether, disenchanted by prose or by idea. But I thought that would fill me with a false sense of pride – ten books instead of say, six. So I list only those that I make to the very last page, learning about the history of the type used in the book. It has been good to see what I’ve read and when. It reminds me of what was going on in my life at certain times. In June of 2000, I read Pico Iyer’s The Global Soul: Jet Lag, Shopping Malls and the Search for Home because I was debating whether to move to Japan or not. I didn’t end up in Japan, but I remain a fan of Iyer’s sensitive writing style and will read anything he ever writes for the rest of my days. In November of 2000, I read Shopgirl by Steve Martin and nothing has been the same since. Steve’s impeccable writing leaves me breathless and wanting more. By September of 2001, with a handful of jobs and a full-time writing career, I had changed my record to include a rating because I couldn’t remember if I’d liked a book or not by simply title or author alone. This led me to give The Secret Life of the Lonely Doll: The Search for Dare Wright ten stars in April 2005 and also resulted in writing a congratulatory letter to the author. Thank God for my list. Now if I could get someone to pay me to write about it for a column or a book. You know, like whassis name. At least I have my books to keep me company in the meantime. References Books Cited Hornby, Nick. The Polysyllabic Spree (A Hilarious and True Account of One Man’s Struggle with the Monthly Tide of Books He’s Bought and He’s Been Meaning to Read). McSweeney’s, 2004. Hornby, Nick. High Fidelity: A Novel. Penguin, 2004. Iyer, Pico. The Global Soul: Jet Lag, Shopping Malls and the Search for Home. Vintage, 2001. Martin, Steve. Shopgirl: A Novella. Disney Books: Little Brown, 2005. Nathan, Jean. The Secret Life of the Lonely Doll: The Search For Dare Wright. Vhps Trade, 2005. Nelson, Sara. So Many Books, So Little Time: A Year of Passionate Reading. Berkley Trade, 2004. Pearl, Nancy, Book Lust: Recommended Reading for Every Moment, Mood and Reason. Sasquatch Books, 2003. Pearl, Nancy. More Book Lust: Recommended Reading for Every Moment, Mood and Reason. Sasquatch Books, 2005. Zaid, Gabriel. So Many Books: Reading and Publishing in an Age of Abundance. Paul Dry Books, Inc., 2002. Magazines Cited Barnes and Noble Presents Book. Bookmarks: For Everyone Who Hasn’t Read Everything. The Good Book Guide. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Dickison, Stephanie. "So Many Books, So Little Time." M/C Journal 8.4 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0508/10-dickison.php>. APA Style Dickison, S. (Aug. 2005) "So Many Books, So Little Time," M/C Journal, 8(4). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0508/10-dickison.php>.

Abstract:

Technique and creativity Having been called upon to provide a contribution to a publication dedicated to “Techne”, I feel it is fitting to start from the theme of technique, given that for too many years now, we have fruitlessly attempted to understand the inner workings of cinema whilst disregarding the element of technique. And this has posed a significant problem in our field of study, as it would be impossible to gain a true understanding of what cinema is without immersing ourselves in the technical and industrial culture of the 19th century. It was within this culture that a desire was born: to mould the imaginary through the new techniques of reproduction and transfiguration of reality through images. Studying the development of the so-called “pre-cinema” – i.e. the period up to the conventional birth of cinema on 28 December 1895 with the presentation of the Cinématographe Lumière – we discover that the technical history of cinema is not only almost more enthralling than its artistic and cultural history, but that it contains all the great theoretical, philosophical and scientific insights that we need to help us understand the social, economic and cultural impact that cinema had on the culture of the 20th century. At the 1900 Paris Exposition, when cinema had already existed in some form for a few years, when the first few short films of narrative fiction also already existed, the cinematograph was placed in the Pavilion of Technical Discoveries, to emphasise the fact that the first wonder, this element of unparalleled novelty and modernity, was still there, in technique, in this marvel of innovation and creativity. I would like to express my idea through the words of Franco Moretti, who claims in one of his most recent works that it is only possible to understand form through the forces that pulsate through it and press on it from beneath, finally allowing the form itself to come to the surface and make itself visible and comprehensible to our senses. As such, the cinematic form – that which appears on the screen, that which is now so familiar to us, that which each of us has now internalised, that has even somehow become capable of configuring our way of thinking, imagining, dreaming – that form is underpinned by forces that allow it to eventually make its way onto the screen and become artistic and narrative substance. And those forces are the forces of technique, the forces of industry, the economic, political and social forces without which we could never hope to understand cinema. One of the issues that I always make a point of addressing in the first few lessons with my students is that if they think that the history of cinema is made up of films, directors, narrative plots to be understood, perhaps even retold in some way, then they are entirely on the wrong track; if, on the other hand, they understand that it is the story of an institution with economic, political and social drivers within it that can, in some way, allow us to come to the great creators, the great titles, but that without a firm grasp of those drivers, there is no point in even attempting to explore it, then they are on the right track. As I see it, cinema in the twentieth century was a great democratic, interclassist laboratory such as no other art has ever been, and this occurred thanks to the fact that what underpinned it was an industrial reasoning: it had to respond to the capital invested in it, it had to make money, and as such, it had to reach the largest possible number of people, immersing it into a wholly unprecedented relational situation. The aim was to be as inclusive as possible, ultimately giving rise to the idea that cinema could not be autonomous, as other forms of art could be, but that it must instead be able to negotiate all the various forces acting upon it, pushing it in every direction. This concept of negotiation is one which has been explored in great detail by one of the greatest film theorists of our modern age, Francesco Casetti. In a 2005 book entitled “Eye of the Century”, which I consider to be a very important work, Casetti actually argues that cinema has proven itself to be the art form most capable of adhering to the complexity and fast pace of the short century, and that it is for this very reason that its golden age (in the broadest sense) can be contained within the span of just a hundred years. The fact that cinema was the true epistemological driving force of 20th-century modernity – a position now usurped by the Internet – is not, in my opinion, something that diminishes the strength of cinema, but rather an element of even greater interest. Casetti posits that cinema was the great negotiator of new cultural needs, of the need to look at art in a different way, of the willingness to adapt to technique and technology: indeed, the form of cinema has always changed according to the techniques and technologies that it has brought to the table or established a dialogue with on a number of occasions. Barry Salt, whose background is in physics, wrote an important book – publishing it at his own expense, as a mark of how difficult it is to work in certain fields – entitled “Film Style and Technology”, in which he calls upon us stop writing the history of cinema starting from the creators, from the spirit of the time, from the great cultural and historical questions, and instead to start afresh by following the techniques available over the course of its development. Throughout the history of cinema, the creation of certain films has been the result of a particular set of technical conditions: having a certain type of film, a certain type of camera, only being able to move in a certain way, needing a certain level of lighting, having an entire arsenal of equipment that was very difficult to move and handle; and as the equipment, medium and techniques changed and evolved over the years, so too did the type of cinema that we were able to make. This means framing the history of cinema and film theory in terms of the techniques that were available, and starting from there: of course, whilst Barry Salt’s somewhat provocative suggestion by no means cancels out the entire cultural, artistic and aesthetic discourse in cinema – which remains fundamental – it nonetheless raises an interesting point, as if we fail to consider the methods and techniques of production, we will probably never truly grasp what cinema is. These considerations also help us to understand just how vast the “construction site” of cinema is – the sort of “factory” that lies behind the production of any given film. Erwin Panofsky wrote a single essay on cinema in the 1930s entitled “Style and Medium in the Motion Pictures” – a very intelligent piece, as one would expect from Panofsky – in which at a certain point, he compares the construction site of the cinema to those of Gothic cathedrals, which were also under an immense amount of pressure from different forces, namely religious ones, but also socio-political and economic forces which ultimately shaped – in the case of the Gothic cathedral and its development – an idea of the relationship between the earth and the otherworldly. The same could be said for cinema, because it also involves starting with something very earthly, very grounded, which is then capable of unleashing an idea of imaginary metamorphosis. Some scholars, such as Edgar Morin, will say that cinema is increasingly becoming the new supernatural, the world of contemporary gods, as religion gradually gives way to other forms of deification. Panofsky’s image is a very focused one: by making film production into a construction site, which to all intents and purposes it is, he leads us to understand that there are different forces at work, represented by a producer, a scriptwriter, a director, but also a workforce, the simple labourers, as is always the case in large construction sites, calling into question the idea of who the “creator” truly is. So much so that cinema, now more than ever before, is reconsidering the question of authorship, moving towards a “history of cinema without names” in an attempt to combat the “policy of the author” which, in the 1950s, especially in France, identified the director as the de facto author of the film. Today, we are still in that position, with the director still considered the author of the film, but that was not always so: back in the 1910s, in the United States, the author of the film was the scriptwriter, the person who wrote it (as is now the case for TV series, where they have once again taken pride of place as the showrunner, the creator, the true author of the series, and nobody remembers the names of the directors of the individual episodes); or at times, it can be the producer, as was the case for a long time when the Oscar for Best Picture, for example, was accepted by the producer in their capacity as the commissioner, as the “owner” of the work. As such, the theme of authorship is a very controversial one indeed, but one which helps us to understand the great meeting of minds that goes into the production of a film, starting with the technicians, of course, but also including the actors. Occasionally, a film is even attributed to the name of a star, almost as if to declare that that film is theirs, in that it is their body and their talent as an actor lending it a signature that provides far more of a draw to audiences than the name of the director does. In light of this, the theme of authorship, which Panofsky raised in the 1930s through the example of the Gothic cathedral, which ultimately does not have a single creator, is one which uses the image of the construction site to also help us to better understand what kind of development a film production can go through and to what extent this affects its critical and historical reception; as such, grouping films together based on their director means doing something that, whilst certainly not incorrect in itself, precludes other avenues of interpretation and analysis which could have favoured or could still favour a different reading of the “cinematographic construction site”. Design and execution The great classic Hollywood film industry was a model that, although it no longer exists in the same form today, unquestionably made an indelible mark at a global level on the history not only of cinema, but more broadly, of the culture of the 20th century. The industry involved a very strong vertical system resembling an assembly line, revolving around producers, who had a high level of decision-making autonomy and a great deal of expertise, often inclined towards a certain genre of film and therefore capable of bringing together the exact kinds of skills and visions required to make that particular film. The history of classic American cinema is one that can also be reconstructed around the units that these producers would form. The “majors”, along with the so-called “minors”, were put together like football teams, with a chairman flanked by figures whom we would nowadays refer to as a sporting director and a managing director, who built the team based on specific ideas, “buying” directors, scriptwriters, scenographers, directors of photography, and even actors and actresses who generally worked almost exclusively for their major – although they could occasionally be “loaned out” to other studios. This system led to a very marked characterisation and allowed for the film to be designed in a highly consistent, recognisable way in an age when genres reigned supreme and there was the idea that in order to keep the audience coming back, it was important to provide certain reassurances about what they would see: anyone going to see a Western knew what sorts of characters and storylines to expect, with the same applying to a musical, a crime film, a comedy, a melodrama, and so on. The star system served to fuel this working method, with these major actors also representing both forces and materials in the hands of an approach to the filmmaking which had the ultimate objective of constructing the perfect film, in which everything had to function according to a rule rooted in both the aesthetic and the economic. Gore Vidal wrote that from 1939 onwards, Hollywood did not produce a single “wrong” film: indeed, whilst certainly hyperbolic, this claim confirms that that system produced films that were never wrong, never off-key, but instead always perfectly in tune with what the studios wished to achieve. Whilst this long-entrenched system of yesteryear ultimately imploded due to certain historical phenomena that determined it to be outdated, the way of thinking about production has not changed all that much, with film design remaining tied to a professional approach that is still rooted within it. The overwhelming majority of productions still start from a system which analyses the market and the possible economic impact of the film, before even starting to tackle the various steps that lead up to the creation of the film itself. Following production systems and the ways in which they have changed, in terms of both the technology and the cultural contexts, also involves taking stock of the still considerable differences that exist between approaches to filmmaking in different countries, or indeed the similarities linking highly disparate economic systems (consider, for example, India’s “Bollywood” or Nigeria’s “Nollywood”: two incredibly strong film industries that we are not generally familiar with as they lack global distribution, although they are built very solidly). In other words, any attempt to study Italian cinema and American cinema – to stay within this double field – with the same yardstick is unthinkable, precisely because the context of their production and design is completely different. Composition and innovation Studying the publications on cinema in the United States in the early 1900s – which, from about 1911 to 1923, offers us a revealing insight into the attempts made to garner an in-depth understanding of how this new storytelling machine worked and the development of the first real cultural industry of the modern age – casts light on the centrality of the issues of design and composition. I remain convinced that without reading and understanding that debate, it is very difficult to understand why cinema is as we have come to be familiar with it today. Many educational works investigated the inner workings of cinema, and some, having understood them, suggested that they were capable of teaching others to do so. These publications have almost never been translated into Italian and remain seldom studied even in the US, and yet they are absolutely crucial for understanding how cinema established itself on an industrial and aesthetic level. There are two key words that crop up time and time again in these books, the first being “action”, one of the first words uttered when a film starts rolling: “lights, camera, action”. This collection of terms is interesting in that “motore” highlights the presence of a machine that has to be started up, followed by “action”, which expresses that something must happen at that moment in front of that machine, otherwise the film will not exist. As such, “action” – a term to which I have devoted some of my studies – is a fundamental word here in that it represents a sort of moment of birth of the film that is very clear – tangible, even. The other word is “composition”, and this is an even more interesting word with a history that deserves a closer look: the first professor of cinema in history, Victor Oscar Freeburg (I edited the Italian translation of his textbook “The Art of Photoplay Making”, published in 1918), took up his position at Columbia University in 1915 and, in doing so, took on the task of teaching the first ever university course in cinema. Whilst Freeburg was, for his time, a very well-educated and highly-qualified person, having studied at Yale and then obtained his doctorate in theatre at Columbia, cinema was not entirely his field of expertise. He was asked to teach a course entitled “Photoplay Writing”. At the time, a film was known as a “photoplay”, in that it was a photographed play of sorts, and the fact that the central topic of the course was photoplay writing makes it clear that back then, the scriptwriter was considered the main author of the work. From this point of view, it made sense to entrust the teaching of cinema to an expert in theatre, based on the idea that it was useful to first and foremost teach a sort of photographable dramaturgy. However, upon arriving at Columbia, Freeburg soon realised whilst preparing his course that “photoplay writing” risked misleading the students, as it is not enough to simply write a story in order to make a film; as such, he decided to change the title of his course to “photoplay composition”. This apparently minor alteration, from “writing” to “composition”, in fact marked a decisive conceptual shift in that it highlighted that it was no longer enough to merely write: one had to “compose”. So it was that the author of a film became, according to Freeburg, not the scriptwriter or director, but the “cinema composer” (a term of his own coinage), thus directing and broadening the concept of composition towards music, on the one hand, and architecture, on the other. We are often inclined to think that cinema has inherited expressive modules that come partly from literature, partly from theatre and partly from painting, but in actual fact, what Freeburg helps us to understand is that there are strong elements of music and architecture in a film, emphasising the lofty theme of the project. In his book, he explores at great length the relationship between static and dynamic forms in cinema, a topic that few have ever addressed in that way and that again, does not immediately spring to mind as applicable to a film. I believe that those initial intuitions were the result of a reflection unhindered by all the prejudices and preconceived notions that subsequently began to condition film studies as a discipline, and I feel that they are of great use to use today because they guide us, on the one hand, towards a symphonic idea of filmmaking, and on the other, towards an idea that preserves the fairly clear imprint of architecture. Space-Time In cinema as in architecture, the relationship between space and time is a crucial theme: in every textbook, space and time are amongst the first chapters to be studied precisely because in cinema, they undergo a process of metamorphosis – as Edgar Morin would say – which is vital to constructing the intermediate world of film. Indeed, from both a temporal and a spatial point of view, cinema provides a kind of ubiquitous opportunity to overlap different temporalities and spatialities, to move freely from one space to another, but above all, to construct new systems of time. The rules of film editing – especially so-called “invisible editing”, i.e. classical editing that conceals its own presence – are rules built upon specific and precise connections that hold together different spaces – even distant ones – whilst nonetheless giving the impression of unity, of contiguity, of everything that cinema never is in reality, because cinema is constantly fragmented and interrupted, even though we very often perceive it in continuity. As such, from both a spatial and a temporal perspective, there are technical studies that explain the rules of how to edit so as to give the idea of spatial continuity, as well as theoretical studies that explain how cinema has transformed our sense of space and time. To mark the beginning of Parma’s run as Italy’s Capital of Culture, an exhibition was organised entitled “Time Machine. Seeing and Experiencing Time”, curated by Antonio Somaini, with the challenge of demonstrating how cinema, from its earliest experiments to the digital age, has managed to manipulate and transform time, profoundly affecting our way of engaging with it. The themes of time and space are vital to understanding cinema, including from a philosophical point of view: in two of Gilles Deleuze’s seminal volumes, “The Movement Image” and “The Time Image”, the issues of space and time become the two great paradigms not only for explaining cinema, but also – as Deleuze himself says – for explaining a certain 20th-century philosophy. Deleuze succeeds in a truly impressive endeavour, namely linking cinema to philosophical reflection – indeed, making cinema into an instrument of philosophical thought; this heteronomy of filmmaking is then also transferred to its ability to become an instrument that goes beyond its own existence to become a reflection on the century that saw it as a protagonist of sorts. Don Ihde argues that every era has a technical discovery that somehow becomes what he calls an “epistemological engine”: a tool that opens up a system of thought that would never have been possible without that discovery. One of the many examples of this over the centuries is the camera obscura, but we could also name cinema as the defining discovery for 20th-century thought: indeed, cinema is indispensable for understanding the 20th century, just as the Internet is for understanding our way of thinking in the 21st century. Real-virtual Nowadays, the film industry is facing the crisis of cinema closures, ultimately caused by ever-spreading media platforms and the power of the economic competition that they are exerting by aggressively entering the field of production and distribution, albeit with a different angle on the age-old desire to garner audiences. Just a few days ago, Martin Scorsese was lamenting the fact that on these platforms, the artistic project is in danger of foundering, as excellent projects are placed in a catalogue alongside a series of products of varying quality, thus confusing the viewer. A few years ago, during the opening ceremony of the academic year at the University of Southern California, Steven Spielberg and George Lucas expressed the same concept about the future of cinema in a different way. Lucas argued that cinemas would soon have to become incredibly high-tech places where people can have an experience that is impossible to reproduce elsewhere, with a ticket price that takes into account the expanded and increased experiential value on offer thanks to the new technologies used. Spielberg, meanwhile, observed that cinemas will manage to survive if they manage to transform the cinemagoer from a simple viewer into a player, an actor of sorts. The history of cinema has always been marked by continuous adaptation to technological evolutions. I do not believe that cinema will ever end. Jean-Luc Godard, one of the great masters of the Nouvelle Vague, once said in an interview: «I am very sorry not to have witnessed the birth of cinema, but I am sure that I will witness its death». Godard, who was born in 1930, is still alive. Since its origins, cinema has always transformed rather than dying. Raymond Bellour says that cinema is an art that never finishes finishing, a phrase that encapsulates the beauty and the secret of cinema: an art that never quite finishes finishing is an art that is always on the very edge of the precipice but never falls off, although it leans farther and farther over that edge. This is undoubtedly down to cinema’s ability to continually keep up with technique and technology, and in doing so to move – even to a different medium – to relocate, as contemporary theorists say, even finally moving out of cinemas themselves to shift onto platforms and tablets, yet all without ever ceasing to be cinema. That said, we should give everything we’ve got to ensure that cinemas survive.