Trauma as counter-revolutionary colonisation: narratives from (post)revolutionary Egypt

We argue that multiple levels of trauma were present in Egypt before, during and after the 2011 revolution. Individual, social and political trauma constitute a triangle of traumatisation which was strategically employed by the Egyptian counter-revolutionary forces – primarily the army and the leadership of the Muslim Brotherhood – to maintain their political and economic power over and above the social, economic and political interests of others. Through the destruction of physical bodies, the fragmentation and polarisation of social relations and the violent closure of the newly emerged political public sphere, these actors actively repressed the potential for creative and revolutionary transformation. To better understand this multi-layered notion of trauma, we turn to Habermas’ ‘colonisation of the lifeworld’ thesis which offers a critical lens through which to examine the wider political and economic structures and context in which trauma occurred as well as its effects on the personal, social and political realms. In doing so, we develop a novel conception of trauma that acknowledges individual, social and political dimensions. We apply this conceptual framing to empirical narratives of trauma in Egypt’s pre- and post-revolutionary phases, thus both developing a non-Western application of Habermas’ framework and revealing ethnographic accounts of the revolution by activists in Cairo

Southwest Research Institute assistance to NASA in biomedical areas of the technology utilization program Final report, 1 Nov. 1967 - 30 Nov. 1968

Southwest Research Institute activities in technology utilization program in biomedical areas, Nov. 1967 - Nov. 196

Who knows who we are? Questioning DNA analysis in disaster victim identification

The use of DNA analysis as a mode of identification of disaster victims has become increasingly predominant to other, traditional, methods of identification in recent years. Scientific advances of the technological processes, high-profile use in identification efforts across the globe (such as after 9/11 or in the Asian Tsunami of 2004), and its inclusion in popular media, have led to its popular adoption as one of the primary modes of identification in disaster scenarios, and to the expectation of its use in all cases by the lay public and media. It is increasingly argued to be integral to post-disaster management. However, depending on the circumstances, location, and type of disaster, this technology may not be appropriate, and its use may instead conflict with socio-political and cultural norms and structures of power. Using examples primarily from Cambodia and Iraq this article will explore what these conflicts may be, and in doing so, question the expanding assumption that DNA analysis is a universally appropriate intervention in disaster victim identification. It will argue instead that its use may be a result of a desire for the political and social capital that this highly prestigious technological intervention offers rather than a solely humanitarian intervention on behalf of survivors and the dead

Cohort Profile: The HIV Atlanta Veterans Affairs Cohort Study (HAVACS).

The originally published version of this Profile contained an error in one of the author names. Vince D. Marconi should have read Vince C. Marconi. This has now been corrected

Trauma and Narrative Fetishism as the Source for Creativity in the Urban Space [Trauma ir naratyvinis fetišizmas kaip kūrybingumo šaltinis miesto erdveje]

The paper analyzes trauma as the source for creativity in the urban space. There are two strategies to find a way to live with traumatic experience. The first way, according to Sigmund Freud, is "the work of mourning", which by constant remembering and repeating trauma in the language of tropes and figures allows to integrate discontinuous traumatic experience thus partly expunging trauma. Another strategy for dealing with trauma was described by Eric L. Santner's term "narrative fetishism". This strategy supposes a refusal or inability to admit trauma substituting mourning for narratives, which seemingly do not have any connection to trauma itself. I can find outcomes of this traumatic creative strategy in urban spaces of contemporary megalopolises. The paper analyzes art objects in Yekaterinburg city, namely, the gangsters' tombstones and the cathedral that has been used for political and ideological purposes, the street art activity of painter Radya. © 2011 Copyright Vilnius Gediminas Technical University (VGTU) Press Technika

From Surveillance to Witnessing: Revanche, Red Road, and the Anti-Revenge Film

This essay examines recent European art films that reinterpret the revenge plot and radically challenge the possibility of legitimized violence. I argue that what I term “anti-revenge” films, in particular Andrea Arnold’s Red Road (2006), and Götz Spielmann’s Revanche (2008), frustrate the desire for vengeance (both the protagonist’s and the spectator’s), replacing violent spectacle with uneasy engagement that inhibits revenge, gesturing instead toward the possibility, however remote, of forgiveness. In both films prolonged surveillance, surveillance ostensibly in the service of retribution, inadvertently becomes a means for ethical engagement that actually prohibits violence. In their failure to conform to generic conventions and their depiction of the collapse of the retributive drive, these films challenge the moral legitimacy of revenge, substituting uneasy, often inconclusive moments of potential forgiveness for violent spectacle

Behind the stiff upper lip: war narratives of older men with dementia.

The concept of the stiff upper lip stands as a cultural metaphor for the repression and figurative ¿biting back¿ of traumatic experience, particularly in military contexts. For men born in the first half of the 20th century, maintaining a stiff upper lip involved the ability to exert high levels of cognitive control over the subjective, visceral and emotional domains of experience. In the most common forms of dementia, which affect at least one in five men now in their 80s and 90s, this cognitive control is increasingly lost. One result is that, with the onset of dementia, men who have in the intervening years maintained a relative silence about their wartime experiences begin to disclose detailed memories of such events, in some cases for the first time. This article draws on narrative biographical data from three men with late-onset dementia who make extensive reference to their experience of war. The narratives of Sid, Leonard and Nelson are used to explore aspects of collective memory of the two World Wars, and the socially constructed masculinities imposed on men who grew up and came of age during those decades. The findings show that in spite of their difficulties with short term memory, people with dementia can contribute rich data to cultural studies research. Some aspects of the narratives discussed here may also be considered to work along the line of the counter-hegemonic, offering insights into lived experiences of war that have been elided in popular culture in the post-War years

Apostrophe, witnessing and its essentially theatrical modes of address: Maria Dermôut on Pattimura and Kara Walker on the New Orleans flooding

Apostrophe is best known as a punctuation mark (') or as a key poetic figure (with a speaker addressing an imaginary or absent person or entity). In origin, however, it is a pivotal rhetorical figure that indicates a 'breaking away' or turning away of the speaker from one addressee to another, in a different mode. In this respect, apostrophe is essentially theatrical. To be sure, the turn away implies two different modes of address that may follow upon one another, as is hinted at by the two meanings of the verb 'to witness': being a witness and bearing witness. One cannot do both at the same time. My argument will be, however, that in order to make witnessing work ethically and responsibly, the two modes of address must take place simultaneously, in the coincidence of two modalities of presence: one actual and one virtual. Accordingly, I will distinguish between an address of attention and an address of expression. Whereas the witness is actually paying attention to that which she witnesses, she is virtually (and in the sense Deleuze intended, no less really) turning away in terms of expression. The two come together in what Kelly Oliver called the 'inner witness'. The simultaneous operation of two modes of address suggests that Caroline Nevejan's so-called YUTPA model would have to include two modalities of 'you'. Such a dual modality has become all the more important, in the context of the society of the spectacle. One text will help me first to explore two modes of address through apostrophe. I will focus on a story by Dutch author Maria Dermôut, written in the fifties of the twentieth century, reflecting on an uprising and the subsequent execution of its leader in the Dutch Indies in 1817. Secondly, I will move to American artist Kara Walker's response, in the shape of an installation and a visual essay, to the flooding of New Orleans in 2005. The latter will serve to illustrate a historic shift in the theatrical nature and status of 'presence' in the two modes of address. Instead of thinking of the convergence of media, of which Jenkins speaks, we might think of media swallowing up one another. For instance, the theatrical structure of apostrophe is swallowed up, and in a sense perverted, by the model of the spectacle in modern media. This endangers the very possibility of witnessing in any ethical sense of the word

Lament as Transitional Justice

Works of human rights literature help to ground the formal rights system in an informal rights ethos. Writers have developed four major modes of human rights literature: protest, testimony, lament, and laughter. Through interpretations of poetry in Carolyn Forché’s anthology, Against Forgetting, and novels from Rwanda, the United States, and Bosnia, I focus on the mode of lament, the literature of mourning. Lament is a social and ritualized form, the purposes of which are congruent with the aims of transitional justice institutions. Both laments and truth commissions employ grieving narratives to help survivors of human rights trauma bequeath to the ghosts of the past the justice of a monument while renewing the survivors’ capacity for rebuilding civil society in the future. Human rights scholars need a broader, extra-juridical meaning for “transitional justice” if we hope to capture its power