Suchergebnisse

"Ziel des vorliegenden Arbeitspapieres ist es, den Einfluß sozialen Wandels auf die Sozialhilfe zu untersuchen. Inwieweit schlagen sich Veränderungen der wirtschaftlichen und sozialen Verhältnisse in der Sozialhilfe nieder? Dazu werden zwei Kohorten von Neuantragstellern auf Hilfe zum Lebensunterhalt in Bremen verglichen. Die empirischen Ergebnisse sprechen dagegen, daß es in den 90er Jahren schwerer ist, wieder dauerhaft unabhängig von Sozialhilfe zu werden als in den 80er Jahren, wie häufig angenommen wird. Insgesamt gesehen gibt es in der Antragskohorte 1989 mehr Kurzzeitbezieher und weniger Langzeitbezieher als in der Kohorte 1983. Die sozialstrukturelle Zusammensetzung der beiden Antragskohorten unterscheidet sich jedoch in einem wichtigen Punkt: Fast die Hälfte der Neuantragsteller des Jahres 1989 sind Aus- und Übersiedler und Asylbewerber, während es in der alten Antragskohorte weniger als ein Zehntel waren. Zuwanderung hat sich damit zu einem wichtigen Einflußfaktor auf die Sozialhilfe entwickelt: Ohne die Zuwanderer wäre die Zahl der Neuantragsteller im Jahre 1989 gegenüber 1983 zurückgegangen, und die Bezugsdauer wäre länger. Verglichen mit Zuwanderung liegt der Einfluß anderer Faktoren auf die Sozialhilfe weniger deutlich zu Tage. Veränderte Bedingungen auf dem Arbeitsmarkt spiegeln sich möglicherweise darin wider, daß es in der neuen Kohorte etwas leichter zu sein scheint, die Sozialhilfe durch Arbeitsaufnahme dauerhaft zu beenden. Die längere Dauer bei Paaren mit Kindern könnte mit der Entwicklung auf dem Wohnungsmarkt zusammenhängen, die Zunahme von Alleinerziehenden mit Individualisierungsprozessen und die Zunahme von Mehrfachbezug unter jüngeren Antragstellern mit veränderten Einstellungen zur Sozialhilfe. In Gegensatz zur Gesamtpopulation ist der Anteil der Kurzzeitbezieher unter den ansässigen Deutschen und Ausländern zurückgegangen und der Anteil der Langzeitbezieher leicht angestiegen. Soweit bisher erkennbar, ist die Zunahme der Bezugsdauer bei den ansässigen Deutschen und Ausländern auf eine veränderte Zusammensetzung dieser Gruppe zurückzuführen. So ist der Anteil von 'Wartefällen' zurückgegangen, die in der Regel nur kurze Zeit Sozialhilfe beziehen, bis vorrangige Leistungen aus der Sozialversicherung einsetzen. Wenig deutet dagegen darauf hin, daß sich die Chancen zum Ausstieg aus der Sozialhilfe zwischen den 80er und den 90er Jahren dramatisch verschlechtert haben oder daß die Bereitschaft zugenommen hat, sich im sozialen Netz auszuruhen."

"This paper presented here is part of a broader research project on the careers of partners living in couples, and takes a dynamic approach to the study of how spouses affect each other over the life course. It is based on asymmetrie perspective, trying to examine the interdependencies of husbands' and wives' transitions between full-or part-time paid work and unpaid household work beginning at the time of entryinto marriage. It begins with a description of long-term trends in labor force participation in Europe in general and in West Germany in particular, and then present a theoretica discussion of how husbands and wives affect each other in different social classes as well as summarize findings of previous research. This will then be followed by a description of data, variables and methodological approach to parallel careers."

Part one of an interview with Julia Casey. Topics include: Julia's service as a clerk stenographer in the Civil Service Commission. Family history. Her parents came from Italy; her father was from Crenna and her mother was from Milan. The arranged marriage between her parents and their immigration to the United States. Her grandfather's work at a gas company in Italy. Her relatives worked in an embroidery business in Massachusetts. What it was like for Julia to grow up in Boston. Speaking proper Italian. What their neighborhood in Boston was like. The social club nearby. The foods people cooked and ate. The Christmas traditions of her family. How to prepare and serve polenta. Celebrations for patron saints. ; 1 LINDA: Okay. JULIA: All right. LINDA: So why don't I just start by saying this is Linda Rosenlund with the Center for Italian Culture at Fitchburg State College. It's Wednesday, November 16th, 2002. We're at the home of Julia Casey at 700 Pearl Street in Fitchburg. And Julia is just filling out the biographical information sheet, but I decided to turn the recorder on because she has some interesting anecdotes while she is writing. So she was just about to fill out the work history portion, and she began telling me that she worked for the War Department Chemical Warfare Services in Washington, DC, and you started 10 days after Pearl Harbor. JULIA: Yes. I had -- after high school, I had gone—and it's not noted here—to the stenotype school in Boston. And in the course of learning, they sent us to take a Civil Service Examination since [stenotypee] is a type, is machine shorthand. And in October, I took the [unintelligible - 00:01:13] Civil Service Examination in Boston, and then when the war broke out, I received a telegram to report to Washington by the 17th of December. And so 10 days after Pearl Harbor, I found myself at the War Department for assignment in the Civil Service Commission and the War Department. They sent me there, and then they assigned me to the Chemical Warfare Service as a clerk stenographer. LINDA: Does that mean it wasn't a choice? JULIA: No. No. There was no choice. They assigned you -- thousands of girls were pouring in from all over the country to, to man the increased offices for the War Department. The war was on, and every department in the government needed extra help, and so they took Civil Service Exams all over the country and the girls that were registered were sent telegrams to come in, and then they sent you wherever they needed you. So I worked there until I think October of 1944, and then I was transferred back to the Boston Procurement Office for the Chemical Warfare Service. LINDA: -kinds of things did you learn? 2 JULIA: It was straight stenographic work—filing, clerical, and stenographic work. I worked for a number of different people who dictated letters, and we typed them up and did general office work. LINDA: Were you ever learning anything interesting? JULIA: No. No, except the names of the various gases that they were using at the time, which was still pretty much what they had from World War I—mustard gas and things like that I haven't thought about it in years—but they had arsenals of gases all over the country. And so the correspondence mainly had to do with shipments and [unintelligible - 00:03:30] get into any of the research part at all. Men from major chemical corporations around the country came in to handle the government's program. Beyond that, we have no way of knowing. Things were either stamped secret or confidential. But the correspondence was so voluminous that things that came in, the regulations from the government had to all be filed and none of us did that and read anything like that. It was secret confidential, general -- you just filed it or you did whatever clerical work was assigned. LINDA: Obviously, war is such an uneasy time anyway. It must have been… JULIA: It was very exciting because we were young, and I eventually lived with four roommates in an apartment, and we worked almost six days a week. And because of the wartime, you didn't have as many things open to you. You couldn't visit the White House. For a long time, I never even got to see the Houses of Congress. We lived a very good life. We took care of our apartment. Each of the girls that I lived with, with whom I'm still closed friends, came from the different parts of the country except one who came from my own neighborhood. She lived with us. I lived with the girl from [unintelligible - 00:05:10], Missouri and a girl from Sunnyvale, California, and a girl that had come from Minneapolis, Minnesota, and we kept house, we shopped, we did laundry and we wanted to work in a 3 different agency and went to work with public transportation. We lived in Washington, and then we lived in Arlington, Virginia in an apartment. And we all came back to Boston together. We all arranged for transfers to various agencies in Boston. LINDA: Were you ever questioned about your Italian background? JULIA: No. I never was questioned. The questioning had to do with various organizations that you might have belonged to where they found your name. I mean, I was 18 years old when I left, so… And then I continued my Federal Civil Service until about seven months after I was married. LINDA: And that was in 1951? JULIA: 1950, yes. In April, I think I left my job, and I didn't work just for Chemical Warfare Service because after the war, they had what they call Reduction in Force, RIF. In other words, all the people that had been hired for the war were then let go, but you could go to other agencies that were getting rid of all of the stuff that the government had bought during the war, and one of the agencies I went to was the War Assets Administration in Boston. I forgot the name of the original name of the agency. They are in charge of reselling all of the machine tools that had been bought for the war plants, and New England was a very heavy industrial area for machine tools and machine and all kinds of things. So I went to work for the War Assets Administration, and then I think I put in sometime with one of the Air Force for terminal agencies here at the army base in Boston. And I was pregnant almost immediately after I was married, so I left in April of 1952. My first child was born in June of '52. LINDA: Are you okay? JULIA: Excuse me. I have a dry cough. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: [Unintelligible - 00:08:17] administration. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: I'll put CWS. That's the Chemical Warfare Service. LINDA: Okay.4 JULIA: And then War Assets Administration… and the Air Force. I still have all my papers, so I can check if we have to. And then I left in April. Our church, Catholic. That's all you want, isn't it? Or do you want… LINDA: Well, why don't you tell me where you go now? JULIA: All right. LINDA: -instead of Boston. JULIA: Okay, St. Camillus. LINDA: Okay. You have lived in Fitchburg since '68? JULIA: Yes. I've lived in Fitchburg since -- we moved here because my husband obtained the position of Director of the Library at Fitchburg State College in 1967, and he commuted about a year, and it was too much for him to commute to Boston. So, we had to sell -- we decided to sell our home, and we've lived here since March of 1968. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: Okay. Social clubs, wow. All right, I was a member, and still am, actually, of the League of Women Voters. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: Boston and Fitchburg. [Unintelligible - 00:10:07] Garden Club, where I was president for about four years. It's 1963, 1993, the June of [unintelligible - 00:10:30] Club. LINDA: I'm not familiar with that. JULIA: It's a Catholic layman's organization. I was actually the first woman admitted in the Fitchburg area. Would you mind opening the door? Letting the dog… LINDA: Oh okay. The dog is going to be [unintelligible - 00:10:48] with me now? JULIA: It's cold. She might just -- come on, sweetheart. Come, darling. Come on, Sasha. What a good [unintelligible - 00:10:59]. What a lovely dog! That would be on the tape. LINDA: That's okay. JULIA: All right. Let me…5 LINDA: What's that? JULIA: It's very cold in here because I turned down the heat, and the stove is not on. Let me just turn the heat up. Okay. Hold on. LINDA: Okay. What's the… JULIA: [Unintelligible - 00:11:24]. Ooh, my kids are [unintelligible - 00:11:29]. LINDA: Say what? JULIA: My [unintelligible - 00:11:33]. LINDA: Oh, who cares about things like that? Thanks for showing me all of the photographs. Julia just showed me the photographs that had been in her family since your mother passed away, I guess. What year was that? JULIA: My mother died in 1989 in Windsor, Vermont, because my sister owns a nursing home there and my mother went to live with her. But my mother lived alone on 11 and 13th Pompeii Street in Roxbury until she was 89 years old. My father had bought a six-family house on Pompeii Street, which originally was Lansdowne Street, and she lived in that house until she was 89 years old. Then she came to live with me for a year, and my sister took her up with her right after my son Steven's funeral in August of 1985. I treasure the artifacts, the furniture, and the pictures that I have. I have a whole collection of photographs from Italy which I'm hoping to organize before I die and so that the descendants will have some idea of who they came from. LINDA: Well, tell me a little bit about your parents. Were they born…? JULIA: My father was born in Crenna, Gallarate, C-R-E-N-N-A. It's a small town or village, and it's right above the city of Gallarate, G-A-L-L-A-R-A-T-E, which is a part of the Malpensa Airport in Milan. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: They are Lombards. My mother was born -- Lombardi is the province. My mother was born in Milan on December 5th, 1893. My father was born in Crenna, Gallarate on January 30th, 1891. And the family had lived there for a number of generations, and there are records in the church in Crenna. 6 LINDA: And their last names? Your father's last name is… JULIA: [Tomasine]. LINDA: Tomasine. JULIA: Yeah. LINDA: Mother's? JULIA: Seminario, and it was an arranged marriage. LINDA: So tell me a little bit about that. Did your mother tell you that was an arranged marriage, or…? JULIA: Most Italian women had to have the approval of their families before they married. It's a little complicated. When my father was an infant, a young girl baby was… I do not know the circumstances. She was assigned, she was asked -- no, that's wrong. She was given to my grandmother in Crenna, who was at the time nursing my papa. In other words, she was a nursing mother. And oftentimes when babies were either abandoned or the mother died or was too ill to take care of them, they were given to a nursing mother, who brought that child up along with the child she was nursing. In other words, she became a wet nurse. And if she had sufficient milk—since there were no formulas or bottles at the time—then she nursed both children. And this little girl, whose name was Carolina, she was brought up with my father until she was 18 years old. And then she was given her freedom, her choice to do whatever she wished, and at that time of course, girls, they went to work or they married. And she went to Milan to work, and she met one of my mother's uncles and married him, and as a result of this marriage, the two families were connected, not by blood, but because this girl had been raised with my father. And they have a child of their own, a little girl. And when the little girl was 9 years old, when [unintelligible - 00:17:15] was 9 years old, Carolina, her mother, died. And at the funeral, 7 which was during World War I, my mother went and my father went, because they were from the two families. My father went because she was called his sister of the milk, [foreign language - 00:17:45] de latte. That means that his mother nursed the two of them together, [unintelligible - 00:17:52] de latte. It was quite common, if there was no other way for these little babies to survive. Many women didn't have enough milk to feed their children, and my mother told me that in Milan, there were professionals wet nurses, and they used to come into the city on trams from the surrounding villages, and they wore special headdresses so they were recognized as women who were going to nurse babies in private homes. And this was their profession as long as they could. They would go to the home of somebody who could afford it and nurse a child whose mother is not able to feed a child, and they were honored. They were very respected women, recognized. They used to come in on the trolley cars into the city. And so I thought that was a very interesting thing. I have never heard of it myself. But I know I had another aunt on my father's side who went to South America and who could not nurse her first child and took her to a wet nurse in the country to nurse, to be fed. So it was not an uncommon situation at all. LINDA: So now your parents got connected at the… JULIA: They're only connected -- it's not a blood relationship. LINDA: Right. JULIA: It was marriage. And… LINDA: So you were telling me that it was arranged. JULIA: Yes. When my father came, my father came to America in 1912 with two brothers, two brothers were here, but America was a very tough place to be if you didn't speak English, and he didn't have any high skills. My father was trained as an embroiderer, because that was his father's cottage 8 industry in my [unintelligible - 00:20:23] in Crenna. But he couldn't get that kind of work in America, and so he did heavy laboring, washed dishes and did anything he could. And being the oldest son, when the family in Italy needed him, he went back, but he went back unfortunately in 1914. I think he told me that he went back in April, and in August the war broke out. And his youngest brothers were taught in the Italian army, and his two brothers in America joined the American army. So there were two brothers in the Italian army in the infantry and two boys who had a wonderful time in the American army and never was sent overseas. So when his sister of the milk died, then he met my mother at that funeral, but right after the war's conditions in Italy were very bad, he came back to America in 1919. And he felt that he was then about 26, 27 years old, and he felt that it was time to settle down, and he wrote to his mother. And his mother arranged with my mother's father and asked my mother if she would like to go to America to marry her son. And my mother agreed even though she didn't know him and had only met him at that one time, and so she came to America. LINDA: Did she come by herself? JULIA: No. Italian women did not come by themselves, unlike the Irish, who did. She came with -- by this time, the two boys, Vincent and Peter Tomasine, who were in the United States, decided that they wanted their mother to come. My grandparents were separated at that time, and so they made arrangements. One son Vincent had a girlfriend in Italy that he had more or less grown up with, and he sent for her. And then my uncle Peter and -- let's see, my grandmother came. They sent for their mother and Maria [unintelligible - 00:23:12], who married Vincent, and then my grandmother brought her youngest daughter, Mary, who was not married, and she brought her son-in-law, Angelo [unintelligible - 00:23:25], who 9 was married to my father's sister and had gone back to Italy from South America during the war. And after the war, he wanted to come to America. But the men always came first. So he came with his mother-in-law, who was my grandmother. LINDA: So your father returned in 1919. How long did he take him to save enough money to send for these? JULIA: Well, he worked very hard and the passage was very cheap, and so he sent money for them and sponsored my mother. And when she came here, they were married. There wasn't any big ceremony or anything like that. They lived with his mother and Maria [unintelligible - 00:24:24], who then married my uncle Vincent, and my father's youngest sister, Mary, Maria, and his brother-in-law until they all got settled. They lived in Roxbury in a flat. And then… LINDA: And what year was this that your mother came over JULIA: It was 1920 and '21, 1921. She arrived on October 12th in New York the same day, because she always said she came the same time as Christopher Columbus, on October 12th, 1921. By the way, I have a tape here that I -- of a family history that I wrote up in 1981, and we played it at Christmastime. And the whole story is on this tape. LINDA: Oh, interesting. JULIA: As far as I can remember—and I don't vouch for extreme accuracy in anything, because by that time, my mother was pretty well along in years in the late '70s. And she was 80. My mother and I, I went to Italy for the first time when I was 50 years old in August -- September of 1973. I went back with my mother, and I was in time to meet her brother, Raymundo Clemente, her brother, Umberto. His name was Umberto Seminario, the father of the boy who was lost in the Second World War, and his wife Osana, and my mother's half sister, Anna. And I say half sister because my mother's mother died at the age of 25 from consumption, when my mother was only four years old and her brother was two. And my grandfather, Raymundo Seminario had to remarry. He married within six 10 months so that he could keep his two children. Then there were two girls born of that marriage. LINDA: Did you mention the name Clemente? JULIA: Clemente was my grandfather, Raymundo Clemente Juliano Seminario. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: Yeah, three names. And sometimes they call him Clemente. Sometimes they call him Raymundo. But I was named for him, and my brother was named for him. LINDA: Well, that brings up an interesting point. I see that your name is spelled J-U-L-I-A, and Italian… JULIA: They Americanized it. LINDA: … didn't have J. JULIA: Yes. They don't have a J. LINDA: So when did that happen? JULIA: Probably when the birth certificate was sent into city hall. I was born at home, and the doctors who came in attendance didn't speak any Italian, and so they just put down what they heard phonetically. My brother and sister, all of us were born at home. So the records at city hall were just deplorable. They're awful. Then, of course, when we were baptized, then the names were different even on those baptismal records, which I have, because then we were baptized in the Italian churches in Boston. LINDA: So let me get back to the birth certificate. It's been my experience where the birth certificate actually has the Italian name, but it's later in school. Not yours? JULIA: No. I'd have to look it up, and you know, I'd have to look it up. But I think that the birth certificate -- it might be. LINDA: Well, it's just interesting that you [unintelligible - 00:28:52] change. JULIA: I also have my mother's, her brother's, and their half sister's report cards from their Italian elementary school in Milan, Italy, all signed by their father, my grandfather. I have it right around the corner. They're in the back.11 LINDA: Very interesting. JULIA: I went to visit the schools that they attended when I went to Milan. LINDA: So now your experience seems very different from many of the Italian Americans that I have, and their family is situated [unintelligible - 00:29:33] north. JULIA: Yes. Yes. Most of the Italian immigrants were from the central and southern part of Italy. From the north, the population there was more educated, and there was more industry, so jobs were plentiful unless, like in my grandfather's case, you had an industry where he was an embroiderer at many areas that have cottage industries. He worked out of his own home, and he was not a particularly good business man. So when the wars came along and he lost a lot of money, building an apartment house, so the boys decided that they would all come to America. LINDA: But they actually left the first time before the war. JULIA: Yes. Three of them came before the war, and my father was the only one that went back because he was the oldest son, and he must received word that things were not going well at home. And so he went back to help out for a time, but then after the -- he had to go into combat. Then when he came back after the war, things were not much better, and he joined his brothers in America again. LINDA: What did your mother's people do for…? JULIA: My grandfather started at the age of eight carrying bricks. He came from a large family in [unintelligible - 00:31:20], which is in Lombardi. It's the same town where Mother Cabrini was born. She was a modern Italian saint. And because child labor was very common, he went to school to learn to read and write, but then he got a job carrying bricks to build the gas company, and I just recently found out that the gas company in Milan was built by a French firm. 12 And so after the building was built, he got a job in the company. I don't know what he was doing, but he probably started out by shoveling coal or whatever. They made gas out of burning coal. And eventually, he worked his way up in the company until at the age of 54, he was in charge of sending out the gas to the entire city of Milan. They had huge gasometers in which they stored the prepared gas, and it's very strange because when my mother and father bought their house in Roxbury right across Massachusetts Avenue, which was the main street outside—their street connected to Massachusetts Avenue—there was a huge gasometer meter that was owned by the Boston Gas Company. And so all of my early life, I saw the same huge gasometer that my grandfather was a part of in Milan. LINDA: Interesting. JULIA: Right. It's gone now, as they put in the southeast expressway. They took it away, and they have different -- now they bring the gas in by pipeline, so they don't store it. LINDA: Did you ever have any discussions with your parents about the fact that it was an arranged marriage, or was it just so common then? JULIA: It was very common. You married people that you were introduced to, or there wasn't any of this thing of going out on dates. The expression in Northern Italy for a couple who were interested in each other was [foreign language - 00:34:04], meaning they speak to each other. That was the expression. They stayed in groups. They're amongst the families, and a gentleman, once a young man was interested in a girl, his only access was through her family. LINDA: Now, what brought your father to Boston? JULIA: Because his brothers were here and he figured he could -- he was very, very nervous. After the war, he came back in a very light post -- what do they call it? LINDA: Post-traumatic syndrome? JULIA: Post-traumatic… LINDA: Syndrome, I think.13 JULIA: They didn't call it that at the time, but he couldn't stay at home. And so, he came here and he did mostly have [unintelligible - 00:35:04] for the rest of his life. LINDA: But initially, when he came in 1912 with his brothers, what brought them to Boston? JULIA: Because they -- the Italians had started coming to America around 1890, 1888-1890, and the word got back that you could earn a living, and his brothers happened to be there. They had an aunt, their father's sister, Luisa Milani, came around 1880 or 1890, and she was married to a man who was a stonecutter, and of course, marble and granite. They have quarries in Massachusetts and Vermont, and her husband was a stonecutter. In fact, he died of silicosis. And these men were skilled laborers, and they worked in -- where they made cemetery monuments and they carved, they quarried stone for buildings. So their aunt was here, and they have to have someone to sponsor them. So my first two uncles came under her sponsorship, and so did my father under her sponsorship. Then a younger brother came around 1928. He had remained in Italy after the war. He was the youngest, and he came later than they did. And he became an automobile mechanic, a very skilled one. So that's right. And then my father, he bought these two houses for $1,700 apiece, and his brother Vincent gave him a down payment to put down so he could get settled. They bought homes almost immediately after they arrived. LINDA: Is this on Lansdowne, which later became Pompeii Street? JULIA: Yes. Well, my father did, and then his two brothers bought homes in other places. And his brother Vincent started up the same family embroidery business that he was -- that was his trade the rest of his life. He had a factory in [unintelligible - 00:37:36] where he did a great deal of 14 [wobbler], the embroidered patches that they used to distinguish outfits and military units and all types of things like that. LINDA: What's the name of that company? Do you know? JULIA: It was Vincent Tomasine Embroideries. And in fact later, after the war, long after the war, he sold it to someone else. LINDA: I'm wondering why your father didn't… JULIA: He couldn't stand it. After the way, he couldn't stand indoor work. He just couldn't. He was too nervous, and the business of course was run very differently from what his father had run in Italy, a one-man shop, whereas my uncle, all of my aunts went to work for my uncle, and they would get contracts. Say, women will embroidered slips and embroidered underwear, and the manufacturers in Boston that were making rayon, nylons, shorts would send -- they would stitch up the fronts of the slips, then they would send them by the box-loads to my uncle, who would put them on frames and do the embroideries on the front, then they went back to the factories to be re-stitched, to be stitched and completed. So he did all the embroidery, work whether it was blouses, whether it was slips, whether it was anything else that had to be done. As I said, during the war, it was military patches. LINDA: Now, about your mantle, you have a beautiful piece of embroidery. Who did that? JULIA: My mother. Because her mother had died so young from consumption, my grandfather refused to allow his daughters to work in large factories, in a factory. He didn't want them to do factory work. And so at that time, clothing was made almost custom. They didn't have huge factories that churned them all by the thousands, and fine clothing for girl who was going to be married, her [foreign language - 00:40:00] was made out of fine cloth and linen. And there were many, many -- again, it's a type of cottage industry, but small shops that were girls that were hired for this skill in stitching and 15 attaching tucking, attaching waist, and my mother worked in a place where they made shirts, and all kinds of skilled work was done by hand on single machines. And then every year for the month, they were allowed to vacation. My grandfather took them to the mountains, and that's still customary today. Every summer, most of the Italians go off to the mountains of the seashore for vacation. They believe in that. Most of them can afford to do that. If they can't, then they go away for a week or two. LINDA: So let's talk more about Boston. What was it like living on Lansdowne Street? JULIA: We loved it. It was a good street, and the same people that lived there when I was a child, the girls that grew up with me, other than one or two who have died, are still my friends. I still maintain contact even though they might have been a year or two younger or older, that contact with those families have never really been broken. There were about 60 families on two streets in a very -- they were part of [war day], but they were off of Massachusetts Avenue near the south end of Boston, although it was officially Roxbury. And all of the landlords on those two streets were Italian, and they came from all parts of Italy from the Piedmont to Lombardi down to Abruzzo down to the southern part all the way to Sicily. LINDA: Yeah. JULIA: So I grew up learning many dialects, hearing many dialects, and my mother kept in touch. She wrote letters to her family and friends in Italy and relatives until she couldn't see anymore 65 years later. So I would see my mother sitting there late at night, midnight, writing to Italy, and then the letters would come back and… LINDA: Did she save those?16 JULIA: No. I did it. She didn't. I saved quite a few. I have quite a lot, and as a matter of fact, one of my mother's girlfriends, [unintelligible - 00:43:10], I think, married a man named [unintelligible - 00:43:18], and her descendants lived in a part of Milan, and our children, which would represent the fourth generation, this lady's grandfather worked with my grandfather at the Milan Gasworks. And my mother kept in touch all those years with his daughter, with her friend, because they were neighbors. LINDA: Let me just slide you hand through here. Okay. JULIA: And my daughters and my sister's daughters had gone to Italy after college and met them and stayed with them. So there were four generations whose friendship has stood the test of time. LINDA: That's remarkable. JULIA: They came to visit two years ago, and I've been there to visit twice with my mother. LINDA: So what was it like when you went back? JULIA: It was like déjà vu. I knew everyone that my mother introduced me to. I'm very fluent in the dialect, which is very seldom spoken now anymore, because after Mussolini came in, one of the ways that he tried to unify the country of Italy was to insist that they all speak proper Italian, whereas everyone who came to America during the '20s and before spoke the dialect of their own region, or their own village. In fact, many people on Pompeii Street could not understand my parents. No one could if they spoke in the Lombard dialect, because it was so different. LINDA: How did they communicate? JULIA: Because they did have a common -- they could speak in proper Italian. Many of them had gone to school. And I mean, they could -- if they went to school in Italy, then they could read Italian, but there was a common thread. It was very difficult though, because they usually never spoke in proper Italian. But the southern Italian spoke closer to the proper language.17 LINDA: The southern? JULIA: Yeah. The southern and central ones, they spoke in a manner that was a little bit closer, closer to proper Italian. And my mother wrote in proper Italian, and most of them have had elementary school educations so that they could communicate with their families in Italy. LINDA: Did your parents learn English? JULIA: Yes, they did. My father could read the American paper. They listened to the news on the radio, and of course, we grew up and went to school in America. And my mother was forced. It was very, very difficult adjustment because she frequently misunderstood what I said in English, and it made for a great deal of friction until enough years went by that my youngest sister came along 13 years after I did. By that time, my sister came to understand the Italian because in the family, my mother and father still spoke in dialect and all of my aunts and uncles, the same dialect. So we got it through hearing it. It wasn't until I went back to Italy the first time in 1973 that we went back for three or four weeks, and it was the first time that I had what you call an immersion, where everybody spoke proper Italian and I suddenly understood. Like a person who plays the piano by ear, I understood the Italian. And then, when I went back in '76 with my mother and sister, again I was exposed to about three weeks or so, or a month, of everyone speaking proper Italian, except in mountain villages, where I visited with my mother—they still spoke dialect. And of course, I was fluent, and I still am. LINDA: So let me see though. Do I understand this correctly? Your mother spoke the dialect, but she came to… JULIA: But she could read and write proper Italian. LINDA: Right. So when she returned, and people were speaking more proper…18 JULIA: Right. But we only did family visiting. LINDA: Okay. JULIA: And so everyone she could understand because she could write and she had learned proper Italian. And my mother remembered the lyrics, the words to the songs she had learned from nursery school. She was sent to nursery school. Remember, my grandfather remarried, and his second wife had two babies. And nursery school, [foreign language - 00:49:00], it was called. [Foreign language - 00:49:04] is the proper Italian word. And they had very fine nursery school for children, and so my mother and her brother and sister were sent to nursery school, and -- my mother told me a very interesting thing. Up until she was 15 years old and went to this private Catholic school that was run by the Sisters of the Sacred Heart in Milan, even then, they had a woman who was referred to as [foreign language - 00:49:43]. And I haven't exactly known how to spell it, but a woman accompanied all these children to all their homes. The school was not far from their homes, but the children were accompanied to their homes by a lady. Even when she was 15 years old, someone accompanied all these students to their homes. LINDA: So when they walked home… JULIA: Right. Unless the parents came to get them; and if they couldn't, then somebody took them home. LINDA: Wow. So getting back to Boston, do you have all of these different regions where they are different Italians… from different regions is what I mean… JULIA: And all we young girls, all of us, we would play together, and then we would compare how our mother said things, how we would, you know, be there laughing, and then we [unintelligible - 00:50:48]. My mother said it like this. My mother said it like that. And all of us learned the different dialects, or they understood them even if they didn't try to speak them. 19 We had an awful lot of fun. We played on the street. We played street games. We learned to dance on the street. Our mothers taught us to crochet and embroider. That was another way that we passed the time. And the mothers, because this was small street, when the housework was done or the middle of the day, they came out, and when they weren't arms akimbo leaning out of their windows, they were down in the doorways, and we were watched all our lives, all of those young years. Somebody was always watching and looking out on the street, so nobody got away with anything. LINDA: Now, do the mothers socialize together? JULIA: Yes, they visited each other's little lots. As I said, I think I counted one time; there might have been 60 flats. It's still in existence, that neighborhood. But it's been bought by a developer. In fact, my brother still owns my father's house. He doesn't live there, but he still owns it. LINDA: So you had all different kinds of generations… JULIA: And all different kinds of cooking and all different generations; and when they died, they were waked in the apartments. They were not waked in funeral homes. Many children were born on the street, so we saw it all. We experienced it all. And young people died. I had two friends who were wonderful, lost a sister. Both of them lost sisters at 21 years old, and the whole street was born. It was complete support from everyone, because these girls had been -- one died in childbirth at 21 years old, and the other one died from apparently a blood clot just after some surgery. And everyone went to Boston City Hospital because we were only five minutes away from it. LINDA: Were the mourning traditions different between different regions? JULIA: They wore black. Some of them never took off that black. Even in the north end, most women who lost their husbands would wear black for the rest of their lives unless they remarried. Some of them did the same thing 20 on my street; if they lost their husbands they wore black housedresses. It was just the custom. But several children died, two of them from spinal meningitis, which at that time was fatal. And I think one was nine and one was 14. And of course, women, they mourned. They wept. They cried. That was a terrible thing. It was a part of life, and they didn't try to gloss over it. They lost a child in childbirth. You could hear them sometimes screaming from the pain even though doctor might come, an intern might come from Boston City Hospital. I remember that one of my friends' mother gave birth, and she lived on the third floor across the street. It must have been an extremely painful experience. My mother was marking the floor gray-faced, remembering her own. LINDA: So there was very little privacy. JULIA: The flat was small, and there was very little privacy. We knew who got along, who didn't get along. And some of them, even though they came from the old country, if things got too bad, they will separate. But for the most -- and the women as they got older, our parents, not my mother -- my mother went to work during the Depression when my father had an accident and broke his leg. He couldn't go to work. My mother went to work at the army base stitching uniforms. But it was only for a short time. As soon as my father was well enough to go back to work, then she had to stay home. LINDA: … in that area generally help each other? JULIA: To some extent. I will say this. When the Depression came, even though we lived in an industrial neighborhood, there were many pieces of vacant land. We have no idea who belonged to them, whether they were city owned land or belong to the neighboring factories. We had two very huge laundries which are still in existence. They were linen services. They 21 serviced hotels, restaurants. They did that kind of thing, places that used a lot of uniforms. So the girls who were brought up just ahead of me, many of them went to work in the laundry. I did too for a short time, while I went to night school after high school, and then as I said, when I passed the civil service exam, then I went to Washington. And after that, I did office work. But as the women grew older and their children were out of high school, many of them went to work either in the laundry or in a box factory. But during the Depression, every family sectioned off some small piece of these vacant lots and grew gardens. That was natural for them; even my father had an enormous garden from a piece of land that was vacant near our home. And according to my sister—this was while I was in Washington—and my mother, he just grew marvelous vegetables. Everybody grew, even in their backyards. No piece of land went to waste. So I never knew anyone who went hungry during the Depression. They would find jobs for each other. You just have to let -- they worked for private contractors, and Italian contractors were making their way up succeeding the Irish. So if my father was out of a job, he would notify the Italian men in the neighborhood and somebody would find him a job. LINDA: Now, did you notice that these people from different regions, did they kind of stick together? JULIA: Yes, they did. They [unintelligible - 00:58:30] somebody bought houses close together and lived in -- and people from the Piedmont occupied apartments kind of close together. But it was a tiny street. It was very small. So you were all -- you just grew up together. And as the women, as the families lived there longer 22 and longer, they got closer to each other, so they learned to respect each other. LINDA: What do you think the unifying factor would be, would have been? JULIA: The fact that they were all immigrants, and that they were locked into these -- they were a part of this small neighborhood. So you have to get -- men played bocce at the end of the street. Then they set up a social club. A few of the men from Abruzzo belonged to the Sons of Italy. And in the summertime, they would have a bus come to the street, and all the Italians who wanted to would bring watermelons and macaroni and meatballs and Italian bread and cheese and salami. If you want to tour, you can get on the bus and they would go to public parks where the Sons of Italy would have a big day. There would be a dance pavilion. They would dance to all this Italian music and have picnics, and the young kids would let them go [unintelligible - 01:00:15]. LINDA: Now, did people growing up here, did they begin their own social clubs depending on regions? JULIA: No. There was just one, and most of them were… I think the ones that belong to it mostly were from the Abruzzo. My father belonged to it a little while, but he wasn't really active. But there were quite a few families from the Abruzzo region of Italy and they belong. And they drank wine; they made wine in the house. The grapes would come into Charlestown, Massachusetts on the trains, and every October they would go to Charlestown and they would order a truckload of grapes. Then they would borrow grinders—my father did too—and grind the grapes. They might make a [unintelligible - 01:01:08] with boxes of grapes and make wine. So whenever you went to visit then [unintelligible - 01:01:16] you were an adult, they always offer you a glass of wine. Everybody's cooking was different because they came from different regions. My mother never learned to make what we refer to at the time as pasta [foreign language -23 01:01:33]. But today it's knows as spaghetti and meatballs. My mother had to learn after she came to America. That was not part of our Italian food culture at all. My mother came -- Milan is near a rice-growing area. So in Northern Italy, you eat cornmeal, polenta, and rice were the staples, soups. But in Southern Italy, they were used to for special occasions, they would -- it was always with tomato sauce that was the standard pasta with tomato sauce. Very seldom, they eat rice. None of us ate much meat. Meat was eaten very sparingly. In the Lombard region, the main dish which is now becoming, and again, has become very, very popular is called risotto. That was one of the staples that I grew up with. And the holidays, we had -- at that time, some of the delicacies that are important today were not important. Things like [foreign language - 01:03:10] was not important, but my mother told us about the Christmas customs in her home. She always mentioned this [foreign language - 01:03:19]. Now you can buy it anywhere. They import it, because the fly it in, and we had special things that we ate on holidays. And my mother told us about the Christmas customs of her family. LINDA: So was that a strong tradition on Christmas Eve celebration? JULIA: Christmas Eve was considered even by the Church as a day of fasting and abstinence. Christmas Eve, when I was growing up, was a non-meat day, and amongst the Italians, who were not accustomed to dairy anyway, they use cheese. But on Christmas Eve, you ate neither milk products nor meat. You ate fish. Now, the southern and central Italians would celebrate. They might cook six or seven, in some families, 12 different kinds of fish dishes. In my family, we observe Christmas Eve very quietly with no kind of celebration at all. The next day on Christmas, then we would have -- we might have polenta, which I made this Christmas, by the way. 24 LINDA: Oh, you did. JULIA: Yes. LINDA: Now, how did you serve it? JULIA: I plugged in? LINDA: You are. Just having system -- hang on. Okay. JULIA: Polenta is made—and I can assure you because I still have a package of flour there. You can buy it today under the Goya brand; it's the only place I find it. But in my father's day, you went to the various Italian markets and they would have barrels of it, and you bought course ground corn flour, cornmeal, and then you just put it into -- I still have my parents' cup of polenta pot. Everybody brought their polenta pot from Italy. It was called, in the dialect, the parieu. LINDA: How do you spell it? Do you know? JULIA: Parieu, P-A-R-I-E-U. It's how you pronounced it. That's in Lombard dialect. LINDA: And that's the polenta pot. JULIA: Right. Let's see, how did they say it in Italy? Paiolo is the proper Italian word, I think, if I can find it in here. Paiolo, P-A-I-O-L-O or P-A-I-U-O-L-O; it's a boiler, a copper, a cauldron, a kettle, that they used for polenta. LINDA: So how did your family used to serve the polenta? JULIA: The polenta was made in this copper pot that had a rounded bottom designed to hang from a crane on a fireplace. Because in Italy, they didn't have stoves, not even my mother's family, who lived in an apartment in the city, had a stove; they had small gas light burners. But if you have -- we have kitchen rangers, black iron ranges, and they would remove the round top on one section of it in the front where the fire was farthest, and boil a certain amount of water when you have much water to boil. And then you very, very slowly added the cornmeal. You added salt, maybe a little piece of garlic, and you slowly add in the cornmeal. 25 Now, one person has to hold the pot so it wouldn't tip over. And my father, that was my father's job, to stir that cornmeal until it was very thick and firm, and used an old piece of broomstick to do this, a [canalla], a piece of stick, like a piece of broomstick. Then when it was very firm, they would put down a cutting board, a piece of board on the table, cover it with a flour sack that had been -- a clean dishcloth. They used to make dishcloths out of flour sacks, the women, unbleached muslin. And my father would take that big kettle of polenta and dump it over on top of this cloth and then cover it. Then they use the string to cut it. You cut it because it would slice down with the string. And I've met many people in Fitchburg who remembered that same system of cooking polenta and cutting it with the string and dumping it over onto something. And we served it with various kinds of stew. Now, the southern and central Italians would most likely serve it with a meat ragout or Italian tomato sauce that they might use for any pasta dish. We served it with a stew that was called cassoeula, very difficult to spell, C-A-S-S-O-E-U-L-A. It was made from savoy cabbage, Italian sausages, spare ribs, and cooked with carrots and onions and garlic into light -- but no tomatoes, celery, into this wonderful stew, and I made it this Christmas. So from now on, as long as I'm alive, that's what we'll have for Christmas, and that's what we ate. Or they would make a rabbit… make a stew out of rabbit or chicken. But that's how we ate it. Then my father would eat it with gorgonzola cheese. And the next day, you sliced it and cut it and fried it with eggs for lunch or supper. I had an uncle, an old uncle, who lived with me after he was widowed, and he used to slice it the next day and layer it with milk and onions and bake it. And you can use polenta like you can use potatoes or rice with anything. It's delicious. My Irish husband loves it. Right, the kids love it. And you can make it out of a Quaker oats cornmeal too, but I don't like it as well as I 26 do the coarse meal. It has become quite popular again in upscale restaurants. LINDA: Now, when your mother would serve it on the board at the table, did… JULIA: Yeah. Put your dish there, and my father would take the string and the slice would fall on to the dish, then she'd serve the stew from the bowl or the pan. LINDA: I've also heard of people in Fitchburg, their mother would lay it out on the board, and then everyone would kind of eat it… JULIA: I have all that. Now, the first one I met since I've been here that tells me that, but I have a very close friend whose parents have 13 children, and the father made a big, long table to accommodate them. They lived in my father's, one of my father's flats, and when they made the polenta and the tomato sauce, he would lay it out on this table, and every child would have, every person would have a section and would eat with his fork or spoon, then they would put the tomato sauce over it. Right. LINDA: That's interesting. JULIA: Right. LINDA: So now, living with all these different regions or people from regions, were there different patron saints or celebrations? JULIA: A lot of them had relatives in the north end, and the north end was really the center of the Italian religious community, and so some of them would visit their relatives on feast days. Some of the Sicilian women who had relatives in the north end, they would go to the north on feast days. But we didn't do that. They would celebrate the feast days now that I think of it by cooking special foods, and a lot of them have like little [plaster] saints, and they would always keep votive candles, which was strange. They were little wicks that floated, little wicks, and you lit the wick, and they'd have like some kind of maybe a little asbestos washer, some little washer. I haven't seen those for 50-60 years. I haven't seen them. But I remembered the women used to keep -- a lot of the Southern Italian 27 women would keep votive lights. They would pray for their families and pray for good health, and they were attached to devotions to these different saints, or St. Joseph or the Virgin Mary, and they would keep little votive lights. I'm trying to think what -- they didn't have racks in them, but I don't know what the liquid was in these -- I mean, they still have the same candleholders. I got them on my dining room table right there, but they didn't have -- I don't remember the candles. I remember these little wicks./AT/jf/lk/es

This paper exploits data from a rotating panel that follows individuals for four quarters to shed light on the factors driving the time use decisions and restrictions faced by Mexican youth. The results of the analysis imply that: (i) once youth aged 15 to 18 years old leave school, it is very unlikely that they will return; (ii) being "neither in work nor in school" (Nini) is a highly persistent condition; and (iii) marriage (perhaps motivated by teen pregnancy) increases the probability of girls leaving school and raising children by themselves, which may in turn increase their future likelihood of being Ninis, as well as the probability of their children growing up to become Ninis, potentially creating an intergenerational transmission of Nininess. Similar results are found for other countries in the region (Brazil and Argentina).

Lesotho is one of the poorest countries in Southern Africa, and has one of the highest income inequality in the world. Home to about 2 million people, Lesotho is surrounded by South Africa, the second largest and most industrialized economy in Africa. Lesotho generates income mainly by exporting textiles, water, and diamonds, and is a member of the Southern African Customs Union (SACU), the Southern African Development Community (SADC), and the Common Monetary Area (CMA). The national currency, the loti, is pegged to the South African rand. Lesotho's main trading partners are South Africa and the United States. The CPF will seek to mitigate four substantial risks to the implementation of the WBG program: (a) political and governance; (b) macroeconomic; (c) climate change and climate- induced disasters; and (d) operating risks (capacity and fiduciary). The lessons from the Country Assistance Strategy Completion and Learning Report (CPS CLR) will play an important role in addressing these risks. The CPF will give high importance to quality and risks at entry for new operations, and continue strong monitoring and supervision. These mitigation factors are essential for achieving sustainable results.

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Inhalt -- 1 Migration ein Bild geben. Eine Einleitung -- Literatur -- // -- 2 Fotografische Ihr-Bildungen. Migration in die Bundesrepublik der 1970er und 1980er Jahre im Blick der Kamera -- 2.1 Vom Ankommen und Abreisen -- 2.2 Terra incognita vor der Haustür -- 2.3 Hausbesuche -- 2.4 Migration hat viele Gesichter. Außen- und Innenperspektiven -- Literatur -- // -- 3 Framing the Invisible: On the Presence of the Absence of Migration -- 3.1 A Spectre Is Haunting Europe (Introduction) -- 3.2 Palm Reading (Brigitta Kuster: Erase Them!) -- 3.3 'Whose Grave'€™s this, Sir?'€ (Santiago Sierra: 3000 Huecos) -- 3.4 Vacancy (Sven Johne: Dream Hotels) -- 3.5 Inventing the Other (A 'Pro-spect'€™) -- References -- // -- 4 Transversale After-Effects. Skizzen über den Migrationsdiskurs im Museum -- 4.1 Wissensraum Museum -- 4.1.1 Museen und das nationale Projekt -- 4.1.2 ֖ffnungsprozesse -- 4.2 Sichtbarkeitsmodi der Migration -- 4.2.1 Verzögerte Ankunft - Inszenierungen der Anwerbeabkommen -- 4.2.2 Kultur, Kultur -€“ Migrantisches Leben in Vitrinenarrangements -- 4.2.3 Im Namen der Vielfalt -- 4.2.4 Gegen-Wissen narrativieren -- 4.3 Zusammenschau -- Literatur -- // -- 5 Fotografien von '€šFlucht und Vertreibung'€˜ in deutschen Geschichtsschulbüchern -- 5.1 '€šFlucht und Vertreibung' als Teil der Migrationsgeschichte -- 5.2 Die deutsche Zwangsmigration im Geschichtsschulbuch -- 5.3 Schulbücher als visuelle Erinnerungsmedien -- 5.4 Grad und Entwicklung der visuellen Präsenz -- 5.5 Schlüsselbilder der Flucht -- 5.6 Das Problem der ideologischen Signatur -- 5.7 Konstruktionen historischer Verantwortung -- 5.8 Visuelle Konstruktionen deutscher Opfergemeinschaft -- 5.9 Fazit -- Verzeichnis der ausgewerteten Schulbücher -- Literatur -- // -- 6 Das Wunder von Neukölln. Erziehungswissenschaftliche Schlaglichter auf die visuelle Konstruktion von Jugendlichen 'mit Migrationshintergrund'€˜ in Publikumsmedien -- 6.1 Einleitung: Die Rütli-Schule als Inbegriff misslungener Integration -- 6.2 Theoretischer Hintergrund: Die Perspektiven der -- 6.2.1 Mediale Praktiken des '€žZu-sehen-Gebens'€œ -€“ Das Bild als Zeichen und als Diskurselement -- 6.2.2 Anerkennung und die Politiken der Sichtbarmachung -- 6.3 Der erziehungsbedürftige und erziehbare Mensch -€“ Anerkennungstheoretische Anmerkungen zu den anthropologischen Prämissen von Erziehung -- 6.3.1 Der erziehungsbedürftige und erziehbare Mensch -- 6.3.2 Die paradoxe Struktur pädagogischer Anerkennung -- 6.4 (Un)erziehbar? Die visuelle Konstruktion der '€šMigrantenkinder'€˜ im Kontext der Rütli-Debatte -- 6.4.1 Pädagogik auf dem Rückzug: '€žDie verlorene Welt'€œ -- 6.4.2 Neue pädagogische Diagnose -€“ neue Hoffnung: 'Das System ist krank'œ" -- 6.4.3 Eine pädagogische Erfolgsstory: 'Das Rütli-Wunder' -- 6.5 Fazit -- Literatur -- // -- 7 '€žDas Boot ist voll'€œ Wie Bilder in Geographieschulbüchern Vorstellungen von '€šillegalen' Migrantinnen und Migranten produzieren -- 7.1 Einleitung -- 7.2 Bedeutung von Bildern in der Geographie und im Geographieunterricht -- 7.3 Das Thema Migration im Geographieunterricht -- 7.4 Methodisches Vorgehen -- 7.4.1 Analysen von Schulbuchabbildungen -- 7.4.2 Autor*inneninterviews" -- 7.4.3 Schüler*inneninterviews -- 7.5 Ergebnisse" -- 7.5.1 Analysen von Bildern in Geographieschulbüchern" -- 7.5.1.1 Bildbeschreibung -- 7.5.1.2 Ikonographische Ebene: kommunikativ-generalisierende Wissensbestände - konventionelle Bedeutung des Bildes -- 7.5.1.3 Interpretation -- 7.5.2 Intentionen der Schulbuchautor*innen -- 7.5.3 Wirkungen der Bilder auf die Schüler*innen -- 7.6 Fazit -- Literatur -- // -- 8 Bilder und Bildordnungen von Studierenden im Themenfeld Migration und Interkulturalität. Ein Beitrag zur visuellen Migrationsforschung -- Bilder und Bildordnungen von Studierenden -- 8.1 Emblemata - zur Einführung -- 8.2 Theoretische Perspektiven -- 8.3 Einige Ergebnisse -- 8.4 Schluss und Ausblick -- Literatur -- // -- 9 A Multicultural Family Drama. Media Debates on International Parental Child Abduction in the Netherlands -- 9.1 Introduction: Migration, Multiculturalism and Mixed Families in the Netherlands -- 9.2 Theoretical Framework: Maternal Melodrama and Visual Representation -- 9.3 Methodology -- 9.4 From Multicultural Romance to Multicultural Drama -- 9.5 The Mothers -- 9.6 The Fathers -- 9.7 The Children -- 9.8 Official Responses and Policy Implications -- 9.9 Conclusions -- Bibliography -- // -- 10 (Re)presenting, Creating, Manipulating. Images, Politics, and the Visual Production of Migration -- 10.1 The Lampedusa '€œImmigration Problem' -- 10.2 The Leonarda Dibrani Case -- 10.3 The (Invisible) Body of the Immigrant -- 10.4 Conclusions -- Bibliography -- // -- 11 Weiße Gemeinschaft und Schwarze 'Gifthändler€'. Bilder rassifizierter und vergeschlechtlichter Kollektiv- und Fremdkörper in asylpolitischen Diskursen des Magazins Der Spiegel -- 11.1 Fotografien als Bezeichnungspraxen -- 11.2 Fotografische Referenzbestände und Diskurse -- 11.3 Das Motiv Schwarzer Asylbewerber als Drogendealer -- 11.4 Die rassistische Stereotypisierung ghanaischer Asylbewerber_innen Mitte der 1980er Jahre -- 11.5 Die Entwicklung des Motivs Schwarzer Asylbewerber als Synonym für Drogendealer und 'Asylschwindler'€œ seit Beginn der 1990er Jahre -- 11.6 Das Motiv Schwarzer 'Gifthändler'€œ als Metapher für die Abwesenheit von Werten -- 11.7 Das Motiv Schwarzer 'Gifthändler'€œ als Metapher '€šrassischer'€˜ Verunreinigungsvorstellungen -- 11.8 Resümee -- Literatur -- Quellen -- // -- 12 Repräsentationen illegalisierter Mobilität. Lampedusa als tragisches Grenzregime -- 12.1 Felder -- 12.2 Figuren der sozialen Imagination und die Migrationsindustrie -- 12.2.1 Sichtbarkeit -€“ Unsichtbarkeit -- 12.2.2 Gefahr -- 12.2.3 Opfer -- 12.2.4 Heroen und Befreier -- 12.3 Harragas auf YouTube -- 12.3.1 Found Footage/Digital Remix -- 12.3.2 Dokumentarische Clips -- Literatur -- // -- 13 We Are the Other Half. The Positive Visual Representations of Foreigners in Switzerland Before and After the 9th February -- 13.1 The Role of Image in Political Debate -- 13.2 Against the Negative Portrayals of Foreigners: A Short Historical Overview -- 13.3 Foreigners Become Publicly Involved in the Debate -- 13.4 The post-9th February Electric Shock -- 13.5 The Difficulty to Encounter a Strong and Well- Established Anti-Immigration Discourse -- References -- // -- 14 Das Fremde in der Linguistic Landscape. Die Plakate der Schweizerischen Volkspartei und ihre diskursive Verarbeitung -- 14.1 Einführung -- 14.2 Die Schweizerische Volkspartei (SVP) -- 14.3 Die Bildsprache der SVP -- 14.4 Entwicklung der Bildsprachen von SVP und Gegnern -- 14.5 Plakate im medialen Diskurs -- 14.6 Diskurse im Plakat -- 14.7 Zusammenfassung: Darstellungs- und Deutungshoheit der SVP im Migrationsdiskurs -- Literatur -- // -- 15 Migration als 'Masseneinwanderung' Visualisierung von Migration am Beispiel der Initiative '€žGegen Masseneinwanderung' -- 15.1 Ausgangslage: Die Botschaft als Bild -- 15.2 Theoretische Zugänge: Visualisierung als Praxis -- 15.2.1 Visuelle Geographien -- 15.2.2 Visuelle Geographien als Argument und Narrativ -- 15.3 Methodische Zugänge: Rekonstruktion von ܜberzeugung -- 15.3.1 Objektebene -- 15.3.2 Motivebene -- 15.3.3 Erzählebene -- 15.3.4 Durchsetzungsebene -- 15.3.5 Vier Ebenen der Rekonstruktion visueller Praktiken -- 15.4 Ergebnisse: Visualisierung 'einwandernder Massen' -- 15.4.1 Akteure und Kontexte der Bildproduktion -- 15.4.2 Reduktion als Grundprinzip -- 15.4.3 Visualisierung von Emotionen -- 15.4.4 Visualisierung eines Gesellschafts-Raum-Verhältnisses -- 15.4.5 Die Botschaft als visuelle Metapher -- 15.4.6 Die Botschaft als Comic -- 15.5 Fazit: Visualisierung als politische Strategie -- Literatur -- Internetquellen -- // -- 16 Wer gehört zum Team? Eine sequenzanalytische Untersuchung der visuellen Selbstdarstellung von Unternehmen und ihren Rekrutierungsstrategien unter der Bedingung von Migration und Vielfalt -- 16.1 Einleitung -- 16.2 Methodische ܜberlegungen -- 16.3 Azubi-Anwerbung in Bildern -- 16.3.1 '€žDie Zukunft hat noch Stellen frei - Ausbildungsberufe bei Lidl' -- 16.3.2 'McDonald'€™s als Arbeitgeber - Jetzt bewerben' -- 16.4 Azubi-Anwerbung in Bildern im Kontext des gesellschaftlichen Diskurses um den '€šdemographischen Wandel' -- Literatur -- // -- 17 Armando Rodrigues de Sá revisited. Bildwissenschaftliche und historische Analysen im Dialog -- 17.1 Schlüsselbilder -- 17,2 Visual History -- 17.3 Groߟer Bahnhof in Köln-Deutz: Der 10. September 1964 -- 17.4 Das Schlüsselbild im Erinnerungsdiskurs: Eine fototheoretische Einordnung -- Literatur

This monograph on Joseph Ignaz Mildorfer (1719-1775) consists of forteen chapters, that after having given an overall curriculum, depict the various stations in the painter's working process. Special emphasis has been given to such criteria as the socio-economic, political and esthetic impacts, that shaped the development of this intriguing artist.
Mildorfer was born into a distinguished family of painters in Innsbruck, where he was taught the basics of his profession. However, he was also exposed to the newly imported paintings from southern Germany, which at this time sparked Tyrolian tradition with international flavor. Partly due to those early stimuli, the young painter managed to instantly gain the renowned "big prize" of the Academy, upon his arrival in Imperial Vienna. This distinction was a prerequisite to any further career. Praised by his contemporaries as the most prodigious pupil of Paul Troger, Mildorfer soon was offered remarkable employments. His first major task, the complete decoration of the pilgrimage church at Hafnerberg near Vienna, comprising works in fresco and oil was soon to be followed by a commission from the Imperial court. But Austria was plagued by a raging War of Succession, which cast its shadow upon the job market, forcing Mildorfer to venture out into alternative fields. This he found in the painting of battlescenes. In this genre the young artist produced works of such rebellious intenseness that surpassed all his colleagues' endeavors and saved him a special niche. It might well be that those particular paintings drew the attention of the last great sponsers of the monarchy to Mildorfer, resulting in his being appointed painter of the court to the Duchess of Savoy, neé Maria Theresia Princess of Liechtenstein. (By way of scholarly work in the Princely Archives of Liechtenstein we have now established answers to questions regarding character and extend of Mildorfers work for the Duchess, that up till now has been obscured). In addition this period marked the beginning of a long lasting relationship with various branches of the Esterházy family, culminating in Mildorfer's appointment to Esterháza. Here he was commissioned to paint al fresco in Duke Nikolaus Esterházy's castle, one of the last manifestations of feudal style, the elaborate adornment of which promted the Duke with the attribute "The Magnificent".
When Mildorfer was elected Professor at the Academy (kaiserlich-königliche Hofakademie der Mahler, Bildhauer und Baukunst) this not only marked the zenith of his career but also had major impact on one of the most thrilling phenomena within eighteenth century Viennese art. It was under his leadership that a movement took center stage, that was aprostophized the "Einheitsstil der Wiener Akademie". Carried out by an array of his scholars, notably Franz Anton Maubertsch this faszinating manifestation had Mildorfer's ideas at its core. With his contributions in the Crown Lands of the Habsburg monarchy in mind, his work makes him a typical Central-European artist of the eighteenth century. However some of his lesser graspable traits can only be understood out of the "Zeitgeist" and must be explained under the term of "painter of the sensibility".
Since Mildorfer is the link between Paul Troger, his teacher and Franz Anton Maulbertsch, his student, a comprehensive biography of this artist is an absolute must. Only that makes a profound understanding of the third generation of Austrian barock-painting possible. - Die vorliegende Monographie über den Maler Joseph Ignaz Mildorfer (1719-1775) umfasst vierzehn Kapitel, die mit dem Lebenslauf beginnend die verschiedenen Etappen im Werk des Malers veranschaulichen. Dabei wurde grosser Wert auf die soziologischen, politischen und ästhetischen Kriterien gelegt, welche die Entwicklung dieses eigenwilligen Künstlers bestimmten.
In eine angesehene Malerfamilie in Innsbruck geboren, erlebte Mildorfer neben seiner konventionellen Ausbildung in der väterlichen Werkstatt hier auch den Beginn einer internationalen Monumentalmalerei, die erst durch den Import süddeutscher Maler auf tiroler Boden um sich griff. Mit diesen frühen Anregungen versehen, gelang es dem jungen Maler bei seiner Ankunft in der Kaiserstadt denn auch mit erstaunlicher Sicherheit den, für eine erfolgreiche Karriere imperativen, grossen Preis der Wiener Akademie zu gewinnen. Im Fahrwasser Paul Trogers, als dessen begabtester Schüler er von den Zeitgenossen gerühmt wurde, stellten sich in rascher Folge prestigereiche Angebote ein. Dem erstaunlich grossen Erstlingswerk, der malerischen Gesamtausstattung der Wallfahrtskirche am Hafnerberg, schloss sich bald der erste kaiserliche Auftrag an. Doch Österreich befand sich im Erbfolgekrieg, der die künstlerische Auftragssituation ernstlich bedrohte und auch Mildorfer zwang, nach Alternativen zu suchen. Und solche fand er in der Schlachtenmalerei. In diesem Genre schuf der junge Künstler Werke von einer aufrührenden Intensität, die ihn weit über seine Kollegen an der Akademie herausragen liessen, und ihm eine eigene Nische boten. Sicherlich machten gerade diese Bilder die letzten grossen Mäzene der Monarchie auf Mildorfer aufmerksam, was zu seiner Berufung als Hofmaler der Herzogin Maria Theresia von Savoyen, geborener Prinzessin von Liechtenstein führte, und eine lang anhaltende Zusammenarbeit mit den verschiedenen Zweigen der Familie Esterházy nach sich zog. Als Krönung rief Nikolaus Fürst Esterházy Mildorfer schliesslich nach Esterháza, um jenes Schloss zu freskieren, dessen aufwendige Gestaltung seinem Besitzer den Beinamen "der Prachtliebende" bescherte. (Die gründliche Aufarbeitung des Fürstlich Liechtensteinischen Archivs in Vaduz beantwortet nun endlich die Frage nach Art und Ausmass des tradierten, aber nie geklärten Arbeitsverhältnisses unseres Malers mit dem Hause Liechtenstein).
Mildorfers Wahl zum wiener Akademieprofessor markierte nicht nur den Höhepunkt dieses Künstlerlebens, sondern spielte auch ganz wesentlich in eines der spannendsten Kapitel der wiener Kunst des 18. Jahrhunderts hinein. Unter seiner Ägide nämlich entstand hier der vielzitierte "Einheitsstil der Wiener Akademie", der von der Fülle seiner Schüler, allen voran Franz Anton Maulbetsch getragen wurde und Mildorfer zum Urheber dieses faszinierenden Phänomens macht. Die Arbeiten in den ehemaligen Kronländern kompletieren sein Werk als das eines typischen Mitteleuropäers des 18. Jahrhunderts. Manche, der oft schwer nachvollziehbaren Eigenschaften dieses kontroversen Malers müssen allerdings aus dem Zeitgeist gedeutet, und unter dem Begriff "Maler der Empfindsamkeit" verständlich gemacht werden.
Mildorfer umfassend zu bearbeiten ist ein Desideratum, denn ohne ihn als Verbindungsglied zwischen Paul Troger, seinem Lehrer und Franz Anton Maulbertsch, seinem Schüler voll zu erfassen, wird immer ein Baustein im Gefüge der österreichischen Barockmalerei fehlen.

Was würde es eigentlich bedeuten, die Forderung nach mehr Dauerstellen in der Wissenschaft mit der Förderung des Gemeinwohls in Einklang zu bringen? Und wie realistisch wäre das? Ein Gastbeitrag von Oliver Günther.






Oliver Günther, Jahrgang 1961, ist Wirtschaftsinformatiker und seit 2012 Präsident der Universität Potsdam. Foto:
Ernst Kaczynski.






DIE FRUSTRATION bei Wissenschaftlerinnen und Wissenschaftlern in frühen Karrierephasen ist nicht nur in Deutschland groß. Nach Promotion und Postdoczeit, die im Regelfall auf befristeten
Arbeitsverträgen absolviert wurden, gibt es auch anderswo in der Welt nicht annähernd genügend Stellen, um allen wissenschaftlich Interessierten eine Dauerperspektive in der Wissenschaft
anzubieten. Oft erfolgt der begehrte "Ruf" auf eine Professur – wenn überhaupt – erst jenseits der 40 Lenze, einem Alter also, in dem Familien- und Karriereplanung eigentlich schon weit gereift,
wenn nicht abgeschlossen sein sollten. 



 



Die in Deutschland besonders extreme Unsicherheit zwischen Promotion und Professur war einer der Gründe, warum 2005 auch in der Bundesrepublik das international längst übliche Laufbahnsystem –
das "Tenure-Track-System" – eingeführt wurde. Dabei bewirbt man sich schon kurz nach der Promotion auf eine Junior- oder Assistenzprofessur. Auch diese Stellen sind knapp, denn sie sind für
frisch Promovierte ausgesprochen attraktiv. Sie bieten eine frühe Bindung an eine Hochschule, verbunden mit einer recht hohen Wahrscheinlichkeit auf Verstetigung. Wie hoch die
Erfolgswahrscheinlichkeit in Deutschland ist, wird man sehen. An meiner amerikanischen Alma Mater, der UC Berkeley, schaffen es etwa fünf von sechs Assistant Professors. Dies lässt sich freilich
nur bedingt auf Deutschland übertragen, zumal hier im Streitfall die Verwaltungsgerichte das letzte Wort haben werden. 



 



Trotz zahlreicher Vorteile des Tenure-Track-Modells sind wir in Deutschland noch weit davon entfernt, dass Neubesetzungen per Tenure-Track den Regelfall darstellen würden. Zahlreiche Professuren
– bundesweit wohl mehr als die Hälfte – werden nach wie vor direkt auf Lebenszeit besetzt. Um in diesem klassischen Verfahren reüssieren zu können, müssen Bewerber eine Habilitation oder
habilitationsadäquate Leistungen vorweisen.



 



Ein Pyrrhussieg für
jüngere Wissenschaftler



 



Soweit so gut – oder etwa nicht? Nun ja, die Novelle des Wissenschaftszeitvertragsgesetzes (WissZeitVG) macht der Habilitation wohl endgültig den Garaus. Diese sieht nämlich bislang vor, dass
Promovierte nach der Promotion nur noch höchstens vier Jahre befristet beschäftigt werden dürfen. Dies reicht für eine Habilitation nicht aus. Habilitieren könnte man also in Zukunft nur, indem
man vor der Habilitation eine unbefristete Stelle ergattert, auf der man weiter forschen kann. Dies dürfte den Trend zu Tenure-Track deutlich beschleunigen.



 



Im Ergebnis würde durch die WissZeitVG-Reform zwar das Ziel erreicht, die Entscheidung über einen lebenslangen Verbleib in der Wissenschaft vorzuverlegen. Wer nicht rechtzeitig nach der Promotion
eine Juniorprofessur oder eine Dauerstelle in einem Institut oder einer Hochschule erreicht, ist raus aus dem Spiel. Dass diese bittere Wahrheit, sollte es bei den vier Jahren in der Novelle
bleiben, von vielen jüngeren Wissenschaftlern wohl als Pyrrhussieg empfunden und zu viel bösem Blut führen würde, kann nicht verwundern. Sie liegt allerdings in der einfachen Arithmetik
begründet, wonach von den etwa 28.000 frisch Promovierten pro Jahr nur etwa 3.000, also knapp elf Prozent, eine Chance auf eine Dauerbeschäftigung in der Wissenschaft haben. 



 



Dieser Flaschenhals ließe sich nur auf zwei Arten ausweiten. Zum einen indem man weniger Leute promoviert. Dadurch würde das Verhältnis von Promovierenden zu Dauerstellen abgesenkt, was die
Chancen auf einen Verbleib in der Wissenschaft erhöhen würde. Eine gewisse Absenkung wäre sicherlich sinnvoll, da wahrlich nicht alle Promotionen einen wirklichen Erkenntnisgewinn beinhalten.
Gleichwohl würde dies bedeuten, dass weniger junge Menschen als heute überhaupt die Möglichkeit zur Promotion hätten, der Flaschenhals würde insofern nur nach vorne verlegt werden, nämlich auf
den Wettbewerb um die knapperen Doktorandenstellen. 



 



Was mehr Dauerstellen die
Hochschulen auf Dauer kosten würden



 



Die andere Möglichkeit besteht darin, das Gesamtsystem besser auszufinanzieren. Wollte man zum Beispiel 20 statt elf Prozent der jährlich Promovierten in der Wissenschaft halten, würde dies pro
Jahr etwa 2.600 Professuren oder Dauerstellen zusätzlich erfordern. Diese dürften im ersten Jahr mindestens 300 Millionen Euro mehr kosten, im zweiten Jahr 600 Millionen mehr und so weiter. Bis
die ersten Stelleninhaber wieder ausscheiden und die Stellen für Nachwachsende freiwerden, müsste dieser Aufwuchs mindestens 20 Jahre anhalten. Und dann müssten sich immer noch 80 Prozent bald
nach der Promotion aus der Wissenschaft verabschieden. Gleichwohl wäre ein solcher Aufwuchs natürlich ein bemerkenswertes Signal. Die dauerhaften Mehrkosten beliefen sich auf rund sechs
Milliarden Euro pro Jahr. Derzeit wäre so etwas wohl nur über Studiengebühren zu finanzieren, für die es aber keine politischen Mehrheiten gibt (und die ich auch persönlich nicht
befürworte). 



 



In der Gesamtschau sollte man das Ziel jeglicher Reform nicht aus dem Auge verlieren. Ihr Ziel sollte ja nicht sein, die Wünsche lautstarker gesellschaftlicher Gruppen zu erfüllen (auch wenn die
politischen Realitäten eine andere Sprache sprechen). Ziel ist die Förderung des Gemeinwohls. Dem Gemeinwohl förderlich ist eine wissenschaftliche Personalstruktur, die es für die Besten nach wie
vor attraktiv macht, in der Wissenschaft zu arbeiten, auch wenn dies mit einem harten Wettbewerb und gelegentlich auch mit materiellen Einbußen gegenüber einer Karriere in der Privatwirtschaft
verbunden ist. Das deutsche System schneidet dabei im internationalen Wettbewerb gar nicht so schlecht ab wie manche Protagonisten nicht müde werden zu beteuern. 



 



Die großen Freiheiten, die man auf einer deutschen Professur nach wie vor genießt, kombiniert mit (gerade noch) einigermaßen wettbewerbsfähigen Gehältern und einer attraktiven Personalausstattung
ziehen immer noch viele Höchstqualifizierte an. Lassen Sie uns gemeinsam daran arbeiten, dass das so bleibt.


Wie kommen Sie darauf, Herr Günther?



 



Uni-Präsident Oliver Günther rechnet in einem Gastbeitrag aus, was es kosten würde, die Aussicht junger Doktorandenauf eine Dauerstelle auf eine Dauerstelle in der
Wissenschaft zu verdoppeln. Im Podcast will Jan-Martin Wiarda es jetzt genau wissen. (12. Juni 2024)
>>>



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One of these strange but true things. A wealth tax wouldn't make the less wealthy wealthier. Apologies for making heads explode and all that but this is, in fact, true. When we tax richer people on their income and give it to poorer people as an addition to their income then those poorer people are of course richer. They've got more cash, have a higher income. We include this in our calculations of income inequality too, as we should. Even those measures of relative poverty are after taxes and benefits. This is entirely separate from whether we should be doing this, should not be, are damaging the economy by doing so and all that. It's just the observation that we do count the money given to top up in the incomes of the poor when we measure income by poverty. We do not do this with wealth. This is something that it's important to understand when people chunter on about wealth inequality and how, therefore, we've got to tax the really wealthy in order to redistribute it. For example, the JRF: The average family in the poorest 10% of families has negative net wealth (such as their debts exceed their assets) (Advani et al., 2021). The bottom 2% have just £2,500 (including household physical assets). At least half of the bottom 10% only held wealth in physical assets (with a mean value of £8,000)We could (well, we couldn't, but as an exercise in logic) tax all the wealth off all the rich and ship that off to the poorer in goods and services, income tops ups and so on. This would change that wealth distribution to the poor by not one iota, not one pound nor even penny. Because we don't count as wealth the things that are sent to the poor via government action.Formally, from Saez and Zucman: Our definition of wealth includes all pension wealth— whether held in individual retirement accounts, or through pension funds and life insurance companies—with the exception of Social Security and unfunded defined benefit pensions. Although Social Security matters for saving decisions, the same is true for all promises of future government transfers. Including Social Security in wealth would thus call for including the present value of future Medicare benefits, future government education spending for one's children, etc., net of future taxes. It is not clear where to stop, and such computations are inherently fragile because of the lack of observable market prices for these types of assets. Unfunded defined benefit pensions are promises of future payments that are not backed by actual wealth. The vast majority (94% in 2013) of unfunded pension entitlements are for government employees (federal and local), thus are conceptually similar to promises of future government transfers, and just like those are better excluded from wealth.The NHS is not counted as wealth, free education is not, the benefits system is not wealth, not just the state pension but a civil service pension - a doctors pension! - is not wealth. But all of these things are wealth. And that they are funded by a progressive taxation system - as they are - means that we already have a considerable redistribution of wealth in this country. It's very easy indeed to tot up that absolutely every citizen in the country has a half million or so of wealth. Free lifetime healthcare is perhaps £250,000 - that's, -ish, what it costs to provide. Free education per child costs £90,000 or so - per child again. The state pension has an actuarial value of £150,000 or so. And so on. Simply by being born British people have a half million in wealth before we think of the insurance value of the welfare state and so on. But, as above, all that wealth is not counted when we discuss the wealth distribution. Which does mean that if we tax the wealthy harder to spend on more of these things for the less wealthy then, by the measurement system we use, we've not made those poorer any wealthier at all. Which isn't a good way to be doing the counting.Of course we're against a wealth tax for that's an idiot idea. But moving from opinion, however based, to irrefutable fact. We do not measure wealth properly at present, therefore we don't measure wealth inequality correctly. Which seems like the first thing we need to be doing if we're going to then discuss whether we want to change that wealth distribution.For, as above, it really is true that given the way we measure these things we could double pensions, triple the NHS and cost every school in the country at Eton levels and we'd not have increased the wealth of those who get pensions, health care or education by one iota nor penny. Which is not just insane it's misleading. Tim Worstall

Twenty years ago this week, the United States government placed Haiti's elected president, Jean-Bertrand Aristide, on a plane sent from Guantanamo Bay and headed for the Central African Republic with a false flight plan. The flight consummated a coup d'état that ended a decade of hard-won democratic progress. It also began two decades of dismantling of democracy by U.S.-backed Haitian regimes. Haiti is "celebrating" the coup anniversary without a single elected official in office and no elections in sight, while most Haitians face catastrophic humanitarian conditions.The U.S. government officially denies a coup took place and claims it did not force Aristide to flee. But the February 29, 2004 coup d'état successfully removed a regional leader who resisted complying with U.S. prescriptions. The following 20 years of supporting governments opposed to Aristide — most of them unelected or elected in flawed elections— have prevented the emergence of other non-compliant Haitian leaders. But as the United States faces its own election this year that President Biden calls an existential threat to our democracy, and struggles with the arrival of Haitians fleeing the horrific conditions that our policies helped generate, it is time to reconsider this approach.The United States actually restored Aristide before it toppled him. In 1994, President Clinton launched Operation Restore Democracy to return Aristide from his exile caused by a 1991 military coup. Aristide left office at the end of his term in 1996, in the first-ever transfer of power from one elected Haitian president to another. He returned to the presidential palace in Haiti's second democratic transfer of presidential power, in 2001.But U.S. leaders did not like the direction Haiti's restored democracy took. They particularly resented President Aristide challenging the United States by trying to raise the minimum wage for workers sewing Americans' clothes, defying "small government" dogma by increasing government investment in education and healthcare, speaking out against the unjust international order, and demanding $21 billion from France as restitution of the "independence debt" that France extorted in 1825.These policies were immensely popular in the areas of Haiti that lay outside the U.S. Embassy compound. In 2000, Haitians voted overwhelmingly for Aristide and his Lavalas party. But the United States used a minor controversy over alleged technical election irregularities as a pretext to impose a development assistance embargo that brought Haiti's economy and its government to its knees. An insurgency led by former soldiers attacked the weakened government from across the border in the Dominican Republic, setting the stage for the U.S. to force Aristide into exile.Haiti has never recovered the level of democracy it had before Aristide's departure. The past 20 years have seen just a single transfer of power from one elected president to another, in 2011. For over half that time, Haiti's parliament has been unable to hold votes, because the failure to run elections left it with too few members. For a quarter of that time there has been no elected president in office.Haiti's last elections were in 2016, and parliament has not held votes since 2019. There has been no president since July 2021, when then-President Jovenel Moise, who had stayed in office five months past the end of his term, was assassinated. Haiti is led by a de facto prime minister, Ariel Henry, who was chosen not by Haitians but by the Core Group, a group of mostly majority-white countries led by the United States. Henry's reign is unconstitutional and faces widespread Haitian opposition. But with the United States propping him up, Henry has been able to serve a longer term than any prime minister in at least 40 years.That persistent support has both seriously weakened promising civil society mobilization toward a broad-based democratic transitional government and removed any incentive for Henry to make meaningful compromise towards fair elections that he and his party cannot win. The U.S. responded to Henry's intransigence by leading the creation of the foreign armed intervention he requested that Haitians say will only further entrench Henry's rule.Meanwhile Haitians face intolerable conditions. Gangs control much of the country, including an estimated 80% of the capital, Port-au-Prince. The economy has had both zero growth and inflation over 15% for three years straight. Children face unprecedented levels of wasting hunger. To spare themselves and their families from this nightmare, hundreds of thousands of Haitians have made the desperate voyage out of Haiti, often arriving at the U.S. border.President Biden's concerns about U.S. democracy should inform his approach to Haiti. His defense of democracy as "America's sacred cause" is weakened when his own administration persistently maintains an illegal Haitian government in power precisely because it will obey the dictates of U.S. presidents over the priorities of Haitian voters. If President Biden is serious about democracy, he would allow Haitian voters the opportunity to choose their leaders.

Através de uma reflexão apoiada em dados etnográficos obtidos do relato de um artista de rua e viajante (aqui denominado Juan) em migração nos anos 2020 pelo sul do Estado do Espírito Santo, Brasil, procurou-se levantar alguns aspectos teóricos de relevância para análise de um modo de vida urbano moderno, notoriamente marcado nas sociedades ocidentais pelo consumo. Por meio de uma etnografia elaborada a partir de entrevistas não estruturadas realizadas em seu ambiente de trabalho e vida (principalmente o centro urbano de Cachoeiro de Itapemirim) e de correspondências eletrônicas demandando informações sobre sua situação durante a pandemia (quando, em quarentena, se estabeleceu na Serra do Caparaó no sul capixaba) Juan expõe sua cosmovisão. Ao tentar se posicionar voluntariamente fora da estrutura social no que tange a família, trabalho, religião, posição social e outras dimensões da existência, ele assume um lugar de fala externo ao padrão cultural de sua época. Seu olhar de outsider foi capaz de contribuir, em perspectiva, na objetivação de certas dimensões da experiência do Homo economicus, revelando o lado exótico deste modo de vida que nos é tão familiar.

Abstract: Through a reflection based on ethnographic data obtained from the report of a street artist and traveler (here called Juan), migrating in the 2020s through the south of the State of Espírito Santo, Brazil, we sought to raise some theoretical aspects of relevance for analysis of a modern urban way of life, notoriously marked in Western societies by consumption. Through ethnography drawn from unstructured interviews carried out in their work and living environments (mainly the urban center of Cachoeiro de Itapemirim) and electronic correspondence demanding information about their situation during the pandemic (when, in quarantine, they established in Serra do Caparaó in the south of Espírito Santo) Juan reveals his worldview. By trying to voluntarily position himself outside the social structure in terms of family, work, religion, social position and other dimensions of existence, he assumes a place of speech outside the cultural standard of his time. His outsider's perspective was able to contribute, in perspective, to the objectification of certain dimensions of the experience of Homo economicus, revealing the exotic side of this way of life that is so familiar to us.
Key words: homo economicus, traveler, anti structure, pandemic, ethnography.

Résumé: À travers une réflexion basée sur des données ethnographiques obtenues à partir du récit d'un artiste de rue et voyageur (appelé ici Juan), migrant dans les années 2020 à travers le sud de l'État d'Espírito Santo, au Brésil, nous avons cherché à soulever certains aspects théoriques pertinents pour l'analyse. d'un mode de vie urbain moderne, notoirement marqué dans les sociétés occidentales par la consommation. À travers une ethnographie tirée d'entretiens non structurés réalisés dans leurs milieux de travail et de vie (principalement le centre urbain de Cachoeiro de Itapemirim) et une correspondance électronique exigeant des informations sur leur situation pendant la pandémie (lorsque, en quarantaine, ils se sont établis à Serra do Caparaó, dans le sud du pays). d'Espírito Santo) Juan révèle sa vision du monde. En essayant de se positionner volontairement en dehors de la structure sociale en termes de famille, de travail, de religion, de position sociale et d'autres dimensions de l'existence, il assume un lieu de parole en dehors des normes culturelles de son époque. Son regard extérieur a pu contribuer, en perspective, à l'objectivation de certaines dimensions de l'expérience d'Homo Economicus, révélant le côté exotique de ce mode de vie qui nous est si familier.
Mots-clés: Homo economicus, migration, anti structure, pandemie, etnographie.

Resumen: Por una reflexión basada en datos etnográficos obtenidos del relato de un artista callejero y viajero (aquí llamado Juan), que migra en la década de 2020 por el sur del Estado de Espírito Santo, Brasil, buscamos plantear algunos aspectos teóricos de relevancia para el análisis. de un modo de vida urbano moderno, notoriamente marcado, en las sociedades occidentales, por el consumismo. A través de una etnografía extraída de entrevistas no estructuradas realizadas en sus locales de trabajo y vida (en el centro urbano de Cachoeiro de Itapemirim) y correspondencia electrónica para información sobre su situación durante la pandemia (cuando, en cuarentena, se establecieron en la Serra do Caparaó en el sur de Espírito Santo) Juan revela su cosmovisión. Al tratar de posicionarse voluntariamente fuera de la estructura social en términos de familia, trabajo, religión, posición social y otras dimensiones de la existencia, asume un lugar de habla fuera del estándar cultural de su tiempo. Su mirada outsider pudo contribuir, en perspectiva, a la objetivación de ciertas dimensiones de la experiencia del Homo economicus, revelando el lado exótico de esta forma de vida que nos é tan familiar.
Palabras clave: homo economicus, migración, antiestructura, pandemia, etnografia.

This study intended to help increase the effectiveness of communication in managing bursary funds in Kenya with a focus on Embu County in recognition of the critical role communication plays in increasing access and uptake of the programs to target beneficiaries, thus reducing exclusion rates. The study sought to determine the effectiveness of communication strategies employed by institutions offering bursary funds in Kenya and specifically establish the channels of communication employed, determine the preferred channels by those seeking bursary funding, and determine the appropriateness of the information provided by institutions in facilitating application decisions. The study was premised on an increasing number of students who cannot transit to secondary schools and increased absenteeism and dropout rates due to inability to pay school fees, as well as increased complaints of exclusion of needy students. Embu County was chosen as the context of the study as most of its population are peasant farmers earning very low incomes and highly dependent on bursaries and scholarships to educate their children.
The study involved a total of 30 parents from Embu County with children in school schools and who depend on bursary funding. Parents were taken as the right respondents to the study since the children in school schools who fall in the age category of 15-17 years are considered minor and not able to legally transact any business on their own. The data were collected using a structured questionnaire comprising both closed and open-ended questions where some parents were able to fill out the questionnaires on their own, but others were assisted by researchers. The data was checked for completeness and analysed using factor analysis using SPSS software. Descriptive statistics in the form of frequencies and percentages were used. The findings of the study revealed that a variety of channels of communication were employed in disseminating information on bursary funds by various institutions offering bursary funds. However, the study registered very low responses in some of the channels, implying that they were not popular with the respondents either because they were not aggressive and regularly used or not appropriate for target beneficiaries.
With regard to preferred channels of communication, the study established that all the channels were important. However, some, such as through religious institutions, mass media, and social media and through friends, were more popular than others. The study also established that information required by bursary funds applicants, such as where to get application forms, the deadline for submitting applications, eligibility criteria required and documents required to accompany the application, was given. However, information about the contact/ liaison person in case one required clarification or other form of assistance was not available. In addition, there was no information on how a dissatisfied applicant would lodge a complaint or appeal, which is essential in such circumstances.
Going by the findings and conclusions and in consideration that bursary funds target the poor and disadvantaged groups in society, the study recommended that institutions offering bursary funds in Kenya should consider increasing their coverage and access to such minority groups by increasing the number of channels used in the dissemination of information on bursary funds. Mass media provide awareness of the existence of the bursary fund but might not provide detailed information on how to apply and other required information. Further, most disadvantaged families might have no access to mass media and information passed by friends may be incomplete and/or distorted. In addition to mass media, consideration should be given to other channels that are readily accessible to most disadvantaged groups. Channels such as institutions of religion, local administration, that is, chiefs' Barazas, Social media platforms and notices at convenient public places such as markets should be considered. While home visits by bursary funds officials could be explored, their administrative costs could be too high for institutions. However, where the benefits of making such visits outweigh the costs, then they should be considered. Such visits could be ideal as they could offer opportunities for verifying the information given by beneficiaries.
Although the study, to a great extent, managed to address the research objectives, a few limitations were noted that required further research. The study concentrated on the demand side, that is, communication strategies applied with respect to beneficiaries, while the supply side was not addressed. This was an area that required to be researched as the effectiveness of communication on the supply side does, to a great extent, affect that of the demand side. The study also failed to establish which of the channels used provided the most appropriate information and only generalized the findings. This, therefore, was another area that required further research, given that different channels have unique strengths and weaknesses. Overall, the study provided insights into improving communication strategies for managing bursary funds in Kenya and, specifically, in Embu County.