917 resultados para Tradition évangélique
Resumo:
As with Crocodile Dundee before it, the recent Australian film Wolf Creek promotes a specific and arguably urban-centric understanding of rural Australia. However, whilst the former film is couched in mythologized notions of the rural idyll, Wolf Creek is based firmly around the concept of rural horror. Wolf Creek is both a horror movie and a road movie, one which relies heavily upon landscape in order to tell its story. Here we argue that the film continues a tradition in the New Australian Cinema of depicting the outback and its inhabitants as something the country's mostly coastal population do not understand. Wolf Creek skilfully plays on popular conceptions of inland Australia as empty and harsh. But more than this, the film brings to the fore tensions in the rural idyll associated with the ownership and use of rural space. As an object of urban consumption, rural space may appear passive and familiar, but in the context of rural horror iconic aspects of the Australian landscape become a source of fear – a space of abjection.
Resumo:
National or International Significance Flows of cultural heritage in textual practices are vital to sustaining Indigenous communities - a national and international priority (Commonwealth of Australia, 2011). Indigenous heritage, whether passed on by oral tradition or ubiquitous social media, can be seen as a "conversation between the past and the future" (Fairclough, 2012, p. xv). Indigenous heritage involves appropriating memories within a cultural flow to pass on a spiritual legacy. This presentation reports ethnographic research of social media practices in a small independent Aboriginal school in Southeast Queensland, Australia that is resided over by the Yuggera elders and an Aboriginal principal. Quality of Research The purpose was to rupture existing notions of white literacies in schools, and to deterritorialize the uses of digital media by dominant cultures in the public sphere. Examples of learning experiences included the following: i. Integrating Indigenous language and knowledge into media text production; ii. Classroom visits from Indigenous elders; and iii. Publishing oral histories through digital scrapbooking. The program aligned with the Australian National Curriculum English (ACARA, 2014), which mandates the teaching of multimodal text creation. Data sources included a class set of digital scrapbooks collaboratively created in a preparatory-one primary classroom. The digital scrapbooks combined digitally encoded words, images of material artifacts, and digital music files. A key feature of the writing and digital design task was to retell and digitally display and archive a cultural narrative of significance to the Indigenous Australian community and its memories and material traces of the past for the future. Data analysis of the students' digital stories involved the application of key themes of negotiated, material, and digitally mediated forms of heritage practice. It drew on Australian Indigenous research by Keddie et al. (2013) to guard against the homogenizing of culture that can arise from a focus on a static view of culture. The interpretation of findings located Indigenous appropriation of social media within broader racialized politics that enables Indigenous literacy to be understood as a dynamic, negotiated, and transgenerational flows of practice. It demonstrates that Indigenous children's use of media production reflects "shifting and negotiated identities" in response to changing media environments that can function to sustain Indigenous cultural heritages (Appadurai, 1696, p. xv). Impact on practice, policy or theory The findings are important for teachers at a time when Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Histories and Cultures is a cross-curricular policy priority in the Australian Curriculum (ACARA, 2014). The findings show how curriculum policies can be applied to classroom practice in ways that are epistemologically consistent with Indigenous ways of knowing and being. Theoretically, it demonstrates how the children's experiences of culture are layered over time, as successive generations inherit, interweave, and hear others' cultural stories or maps. Practically, recommendations are provided for an approach to appropriating social media in schools that explicitly attends to the dynamic nature of Indigenous practices, negotiated through intercultural constructions and flows, and opening space for a critical anti-racist approach to multimodal text production. Timeliness The research is timely in the context of the accessibility and role of digital and multimodal forms of communication, including for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities.
Resumo:
Stories are meant to be told and share as a vital part of our cultural heritage. Children today are perhaps better read, and read to more, than previous generations. Yet schools have tended to neglect the oral tradition in favour of the written text. This book explores the place of storytelling in the classroom.
Resumo:
Over its history, the International Journal of Inclusive Education has had a strong record of naming, critiquing and redressing the ways in which particular social locations shape experiences of inclusion and exclusion in education. In this special issue, we continue this tradition taking as our focus those who live outside the metropolitan mainstream. To date, rural schools and the communities of which they are part have often been overlooked by researchers of inclusive education. This is not to suggest that the rural has been ignored entirely in research on inclusivity and schooling. For example, a number of studies have included rural case studies as part of broader research on subjects such as educational disadvantage and experiences of poverty (Horgan 2009), inclusivity and early childhood services (Penn 1997), constraints to inclusive educational practice (Shevlin, Winter, and Flynn 2013) and the efficacy of inclusivity training programmes for teachers (Strieker, Logan, and Kuhel 2012). Such work provides a critical reference point for this special issue as it has demon- strated that the educational landscape may be very differently experienced in the rural compared to the urban. Illustrative is Wikeley et al.’s (2009, 381) assertion that working class Irish youth living outside the urban sphere are ‘doubly disadvantaged’ in terms of accessing out-of-school activities and Milovanovic et al.’s (2014, 47) claim that for young children in the Western Balkans, there is a ‘dearth of pre-school provision in rural areas’. As well as highlighting cleavages of disadvantage as they exist between urban and rural schools, work in this journal has also revealed disadvantage that exists within rural schools. This scholarship has explored how particular social locations, such as disability, ethnicity, sexuality, gender and class intersect with rurality to produce very different educational biographies. For example, it may be class, as Holt (2012) found in her study of young rural women’s transition to a city university, or it may be gender, as Tuwor and Sossou (2008) posited in their work on the schooling of girls in West Africa.
Resumo:
Public speaking has been with us since the great orators of the cultural heritage tradition and is by no means a dying art. There is no substitute for the human voice in real time, and technology-delivered speeches cannot really move an audience in precisely ways that effective, live speaking can. Many teachers go to history to access models such as the great Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech, or Winston Churchill’s call to battle. Most of us can recall Kevin Rudd’s historical apology to Indigenous Australia’s stolen generation, and more recently Noel Pearson’s moving eulogy delivered to a mourners at Gough Whitlam’s funeral. We are fortunate now to be able to access speeches from more recent history, closer to home and in our own accents through online repositories. This paper is, in part, written as a guide for pre-service teachers who did not learn this at school, and experienced teachers may also find it useful.
Resumo:
Digital Storytelling is a powerful means for enabling communication and social participation. Ordinary people work with expert creative practitioners to create first person narratives for a wide and growing range of purposes, including community building, cultural engagement, brand identification and public communication. A digital story usually combines 15-30 still images and a recorded script of 100-250 words to create an original personal digital story in the form of a 2-3 minute digital video. This form of co-creative media takes advantage of newly accessible technologies but is based in the ancient and universal tradition of storytelling. Digital storytelling is being adopted internationally in a variety of institutional contexts. It was introduced at QUT by Distinguished Professor John Hartley in 2004 when he brought well known UK based digital storytelling expert Daniel Meadows to the Creative Industries Faculty to trainer researchers and Faculty in the technique. Since 2005 Creative Industries Faculty researchers have adapted digital storytelling for use in a variety of research contexts including heritage, youth welfare, health, and international development, in collaboration with a range of external partner organisations. More than 300 digital stories have been produced by QUT researchers, staff and students. These have been presented on the World Wide Web, broadcast on community media, released on DVD and exhibited in various forms. In addition CIF researchers have produced numerous journal articles, conference papers and books reporting the outcomes of research projects utilising digital storytelling in research. As a result of research activity the Creative Industries Faculty is now well positioned as a leading site for teaching and learning in digital storytelling. Faculty research activity in digital storytelling has generated interest in adapting the form for use in undergraduate and postgraduate Creative Industries curriculum and in service teaching, including short courses for external clients.
Resumo:
Since the 2000s, teachers in an increasing number of Australian schools have been learning how to support students with refugee backgrounds. For some of these students, entry into the Australian school system is not easy. English literacy is integral to some of the challenges confronting the students. In response, educators have been developing and researching ways of engaging with the students’ language and literacy learning. Much of the focus has been on traditional print-based school literacies. In contrast, I look here at student engagement in digital literacies in an after-school media club. Several concepts from the theory of French sociologist, Pierre Bourdieu are useful for understanding the position of students of refugee background in the Australian school system. Like other conflict theories, Bourdieusian theory has sometimes been criticised as ‘pessimistic’, that is, for suggesting that schools necessarily reproduce social disadvantage. However, others have used Bourdieusian theory to analyse and critique the reproductive work of schooling for groups of students who experience educational disadvantage. I align myself with this latter tradition. Specifically, I use Bourdieu’s triad of concepts to explain aspects of the literacy education experiences of some young people of refugee background: field, capital and habitus. In particular, I look at questions of the legitimation of students’ competences as capital in literate fields within and beyond the school context. Data are drawn from an Australian Research Council-funded project, Digital Learning and Print Literacy: A design experiment for the reform of low socio-economic, culturally diverse schools (2009-14). The data analysed in this chapter include interviews and observations relating to the participation of two Congolese girls in an after school media club. Implications are drawn for teachers of literacy in culturally and linguistically diverse contexts. Consideration is made of early childhood, primary and secondary settings.
Resumo:
Discussion of censorship and media freedom in the context of The Interview. A few weeks before the murderous attack by Islamic extremists on the satirical journal Charlie Hebdo, the Hollywood dream factory had its own encounter with would-be censors. The Interview (Evan Goldberg and Seth Rogen, 2014), as everyone with an interest in culture and current affairs cannot fail to be aware of by now, is a comedy in the “grossout” tradition exemplified by commercially successful movies such as Ted (Seth MacFarlane, 2012) and Bridesmaids (Paul Feig, 2011). Their humour is a combination of slapstick, physical comedy, and scatological jokes involving body fluids and the like— hence the “gross”. The best of them have been very funny, as well as bordering on the offensive (see Ted’s scene involving prostitutes, a foul-mouthed teddy bear and the entertainment value of someone taking a dump on the living room floor). They have often been controversial, as in the Farrelly brothers’ Me, Myself and Irene (2000), starring Jim Carrey as a schizophrenic police officer. At their most outrageous they have pushed the boundaries of political correctness to the limit.
Resumo:
Background The concept spirituality appears to be gaining increasing attention for its potential relationship to mental health, despite there being an absence of consensus on what spirituality is or whether it can be distinguished from religion (or religiousness) in operational terms. Spirituality is a term that is embraced within secular and non-secular contexts alike. As a consequence, spirituality as a concept encompasses forms of religiosity that are embedded in traditional religion and those that have little or no connection to traditional religious teachings. The emergence of religious/spiritual beliefs that depart from traditional religious thought represents one key feature of widespread religious change in contemporary societies. Non-traditional religious/spiritual beliefs need to be viewed within this context and thus be differentiated from traditional religious/spiritual beliefs when investigating connections between religion, spirituality, and mental health. Aims The current study seeks to compare the mental health of those whose beliefs are rooted in religious tradition with those whose beliefs deviate from traditional religious thought. The two main objectives of this study are: (1) to determine the extent to which religious background predicts endorsement of traditional and non-traditional religious/spiritual beliefs and church attendance in young adulthood, and; (2) to determine whether differential relationships exist between current religiosity, religious background, and mental health in young adulthood, and whether any observed differences are attributable to other characteristics of respondents like sociodemographic factors and health-risk behaviours. Methods Data were derived from the Mater-University of Queensland Study of Pregnancy, a longitudinal, prospective study of maternal and child health from the prenatal period to 21 years post-delivery. Religiosity was assessed among the study children in young adulthood from three items measured at the time of the 21-year follow-up. Religious background was assessed from information provided by the study mothers in earlier phases of the study. Young adult responses to items included in the Young Adult Self Report (Achenbach, 1997) were used to assess cases of anxiety/depression and externalising behaviour, and delusional ideation was assessed from their responses to the 21-item Peters et al. Delusions Inventory (PDI) (Peters & Garety, 1996). Results Belief in a spiritual or higher power other than God was found to be positively related to anxiety/depression, disturbed ideation, suspiciousness and paranormal ideation, high total PDI scores, as well as antisocial behaviour in young adulthood, regardless of gender. These associations persisted after adjustment for potential confounders. By contrast, young adults who maintain a traditional belief in God appear to be no different to those who reject this belief in regard to anxiety/depression. Belief in God was found to have no association with antisocial behaviour for males, but was observed to have a weak negative relationship with antisocial behaviour for females. This association failed to reach statistical significance however, after adjustment for other religious/spiritual and social characteristics. No associations were found between young adult belief in God and disturbed, suspicious or paranormal ideation, although a positive relationship was identified for high total PDI scores. Weekly church attendance was observed to reduce the likelihood of antisocial behaviour in young adulthood among males, but not females. Religious ideation was found to more prevalent among young adults who attend church on either a weekly or infrequent basis. No long-term effects on anxiety/depression or antisocial behaviour were evident from maternal belief in God, church attendance or religious affiliation in the young adults’ early lives. However, maternal church attendance predicted religious ideation in young adulthood. Offspring of mothers affiliated with a Pentecostal church in the prenatal period appear to have a high rate of religious ideation and high total PDI scores. Paranormal ideation in young adulthood appears to have no association with maternal religiosity in a young adult’s early life. Conclusion The findings from this study suggest that young adults who endorse non-traditional religious/spiritual beliefs are at greater risk for poorer mental health and aberrant social behaviour than those who reject these beliefs. These results suggest that a non-traditional religious/spiritual belief system involves more than mere rejection of traditional religious doctrine. This system of belief may be a marker for those who question the legitimacy of established societal norms and values, and whose thoughts, attitudes and actions reflect this position. This possibility has implications for mental health and wellbeing at both an individual and a societal level and warrants further research attention.
Resumo:
We review a programme of research on the attribution of humanness to people, and the ways in which lesser humanness is attributed to some compared to others. We first present evidence that humanness has two distinct senses, one representing properties that are unique to our species, and the other—human nature—those properties that are essential or fundamental to the human category. An integrative model of dehumanisation is then laid out, in which distinct forms of dehumanisation correspond to the denial of the two senses of humanness, and the likening of people to particular kinds of nonhuman entities (animals and machines). Studies demonstrating that human nature attributes are ascribed more to the self than to others are reviewed, along with evidence of the phenomenon’s cognitive and motivational basis. Research also indicates that both kinds of humanness are commonly denied to social groups, both explicitly and implicitly, and that they may cast a new light on the study of stereotype content. Our approach to the study of dehumanisation complements the tradition of research on infrahumanisation, and indicates new directions for exploring the importance of humanness as a dimension of social perception.
Resumo:
Pranks, hoaxes and practical jokes are co-creative cultural performance practices that appear across times, contexts and cultures. These practices include everyday play amongst families, friends and coworkers, entertainment programs such as Prank Patrol, Punked or Scare Tactics, and aesthetic and activist pranks perpetrated by situationist artists, guerrilla artists, and, most recently, culture ‘jammers’ or ‘hackers’ intent on turning capitalist systems back on themselves. Although it can, in common usage, describe almost any show off behaviour, a prank in the strictest definition of the term is a performance that deploys a very specific set of strategies. It is an act of trickery, mischief, or deceit, that must be taken as real, and momentarily cause real fear, anger or worry for an unwitting spectator-become-performer, who is meant to play along until the trick is revealed and their response can be represented back to the prankster, other spectators, or society as a whole, either for the sake of entertainment or for the sake of commentary on a cultural phenomenon. A prank, in this sense, deliberately blurs the boundaries between daily and dramatic performance. It creates a moment of uncertainty, in which both the prankster’s ability to be creative, clever, or culturally astute, and the prankee’s ability to play along, discern the trick, discern the point of the trick, and, in the end, be duped, be a good sport, or even play/pay the prankster back, are both put to the test. In this paper, I consider a number of pranking traditions popular where I am in Australia, from the community-building pranks of footballers, bucks parties and ‘drop bear’ tales told to tourists, to the more controversial pranks of radio shock jocks, activists and artists. I use performance, spectatorship and ethical theory to examine the engagement between prankster, pranked spectator, and other spectators, in this most distinctive sort of community-driven performance practice, and the way it builds and breaks status, social and other sorts of relationships within and between specific communities.
Resumo:
In an essay, "The Books of Last Things", Delia Falconer discusses the emergence of a new genre in publishing - microhistories. She cites a number of recent titles in non-fiction and fiction - Longitude, Cod, Tulips, Pushkin's Button, Nathaniel's Nutmeg, Zarafa, The Surgeon of Crowthorne, The Potato, The Perfect Storm. Delia Falconer observes of this tradition: "One has the sense, reading these books, of a surprising weight, of pleasant shock. In part, it is because we are looking at things which are generally present around us, but modestly out of sight and mind - historical nitty gritty like cod, potatoes, longitudinal clocks - which the authors have thrust suddenly, like a Biblical visitation of frogs or locusts, in our face. Things like spice and buttons and clocks are generally seen to enable history on the large scale, but are not often viewed as its worthy subjects. And by the same grand logic of history, more unusual phenomena like cabinets of curiosities or glass-making or farm lore or sailors' knots are simply odd blips on its radar screen, interesting footnotes. These new books, microhistories, reverse the usual order of history, which argues from the general to the particular, in order to prove its inevitable progress. They start from the footnotes. But by reversing the process, and walking through the back door of history, you don't necessarily end up at the front of the same house." Delia Falconer speculates about the reasons for the popularity of microhistories. She concludes: "I would like to think that reading them is not simply an exercise in nostalgia, but a challenge to the present". In Mauve, Simon Garfield provides a new way of thinking and writing about the history of intellectual property. Instead of providing a grand historical narrative of intellectual property, he tells the story of a particular invention, and its exploitation. Simon Garfield relates how English chemist William Perkin accidentally discovered a way to mass-produce colour mauve in a factory. Working on a treatment for malaria in his London home laboratory, Perkin failed to produce artificial quinine. Instead he created a dark oily sludge that turned silk a beautiful light purple. The colour was unique and became the most desirable shade in the fashion houses of Paris and London. ... The book Mauve will have a number of contemporary resonances for intellectual property lawyers and academics. Simon Garfield emphasizes the difficulties inherent in commercialising an invention and managing intellectual property. He investigates the uneasy collaboration between industry and science. Simon Garfield suggests that complaints about the efficacy of patent offices are perennial. He also highlights the problems faced by courts and law-makers in accommodating new technologies within the logic of patent law. In his elegant microhistory of the colour mauve, Simon Garfield confirms the conclusion of Brad Sherman and Lionel Bently that many aspects of modern intellectual property law can only be understood through an understanding of the past: "The image of intellectual property law that developed during the 19th century and the narrative of identity which this engendered played and continue to play an important role in the way we think about and understand intellectual property law".
Resumo:
When settling, people often use cultural schema from their original homeland to build familiarity in unfamiliar surrounds. This paper draws on ethnographic fieldwork conducted by the first author in Brisbane, with the Karen community from Burma, during which participant observation and interview methods were used. We present an ethnographic account of the Brisbane Karen wrist-tying ceremony. The ceremony acts as an insight into the challenges for Karen whilst settling into Australia. It reflects multiple accounts of history and tradition, but simultaneously speaks to emerging, contemporary Karen contexts. This research contributes to richer understandings of settlement: it frames transnational cultural practice as a flexible mode of integration, rather than an exclusionary mode of othering. We propose that the integrative discourse of the ceremony creates familiarity and social connection in local and diasporic spaces. This acts as a counter to the challenges of Karen settlement including the negotiations of local/global identity politics.
Resumo:
Law is narration: it is narrative, narrator and the narrated. As a narrative, the law is constituted by a constellation of texts – from official sources such as statutes, treaties and cases, to private arrangements such as commercial contracts, deeds and parenting plans. All are a collection of stories: cases are narrative contests of facts and rights; statutes are recitations of the substantive and procedural bases for social, economic and political interactions; private agreements are plots for future relationships, whether personal or professional. As a narrator, law speaks in the language of modern liberalism. It describes its world in abstractions rather than in concrete experience, universal principles rather than individual subjectivity. It casts people into ‘parties’ to legal relationships; structures human interactions into ‘issues’ or ‘problems’; and tells individual stories within larger narrative arcs such as ‘the rule of law’ and ‘the interests of justice’. As the narrated, the law is a character in its own story. The scholarship of law, for example, is a type of story-telling with law as its central character. For positivists, still the dominant group in the legal genre, law is a closed system of formal rules with an “immanent rationality” and its own “structure, substantive content, procedure and tradition,” dedicated to finality of judgment. For scholars inspired by the interpretative tradition in the humanities, law is a more ambivalent character, susceptible to influences from outside its realm and masking a hidden ideological agenda under its cloak of universality and neutrality. For social scientists, law is a protagonist on a wider social stage, impacting on society, the economy and the polity is often surprising ways.
Resumo:
Law is saturated with stories. People tell their stories to lawyers; lawyers tell their client's stories to courts; and legislators develop regulation to respond to their constituent's stories of injustice or inequality. My approach to first-year legal education respects this narrative tradition. Both my curriculum design and assessment scheme in the compulsory first-year subject Australian Legal System deploy narrative methodology as the central teaching and learning device. Throughout the course, students work on resolving the problems of four hypothetical clients. Like a murder mystery, pieces of the puzzle come together as students learn more about legal institutions and the texts they produce, the process of legal research, the analysis and interpretation of primary legal sources, the steps in legal problem-solving, the genre conventions of legal writing style, the practical skills and ethical dimensions of professional practice, and critical inquiry into the normative underpinnings and impacts of the law. The assessment scheme mirrors this design. In their portfolio-based assignment, for example, students devise their own client profile, research the client's legal position and prepare a memorandum of advice.