Sustainability and Social Research: Edited by Frank Vanclay and Luciano Mesiti

Sustainability and
Social Research
edited by
Frank Vanclay and Luciano Mesiti
Proceedings of the 1997 Conference of

the Australian Association for Social Research,
held at Charles Sturt University,
Wagga Wagga, February 1997.
This PDF was created in 2006 to make this long out-of-print work accessible.
Unfortunately, some of the original diagrams which were hardcopy insertions in the
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Conference Proceedings
Centre for Rural Social Research
Charles Sturt University
i
Copyright © Centre for Rural Social Research 1997
Copyright resides in authors in respect of their own contributions.
All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or otherwise transmitted in
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First published 1997 by

Charles Sturt University
Wagga Wagga NSW 2678
phone: 02-69332778
fax: 02-69332293
email: crsr@csu.edu.au
Printed by Active Print, Wagga Wagga
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-publication data
Australian Association for Social Research. Conference

(1997 : Wagga Wagga, N.S.W.).
Sustainability and Social Research : proceedings of the
1997 Conference of the Australian Association for Social
Research, held at Charles Sturt University , Wagga Wagga,
February, 1997.
ISBN 1 86467 017 7
1. Social sciences – Research – Australia – Congresses.

2. Sustainable development – Australia – Congresses
I. Mesiti, Luciano. II. Vanclay, F.M. (Francis M.)
III. Charles Sturt University-Riverina. Centre for Rural Social
Research. IV. Title.
300.72094
ii
CONTENTS
Notes on Contributors v
Preface ix
Keynote Address
1 From hand to mouth:

the fluctuating fortunes of social scientists in scientific research 3
and natural resource agencies
Geoffrey J. Syme
Part 1: Sustaining Communities
2 Joys and sorrows of outrageous fortune:

or the challenges and perils of conducting community based 15
research
Robert Doyle
3 Community learning:
using learning to reconceptualise community well-being 23
Ian Falk
4 The ‘ethnic experience’ and social research 43

Vince Marotta
5 A cross-national exploration into the content and construct

validity of social work task items, their clusters and factors 55
Bruce Lagay and Allan Borowski
6 Sustaining the needs of spinal injured persons

in the NSW community 77
Lynn Kemp
7 Sustaining tolerance or homophobia?

alternative sexualities and local mass media in 87
New South Wales country towns
Gabriele Winter
8 Post-modern values, dissatisfaction with conventional medicine

and popularity of alternative therapies 105
Mohammad Siahpush
iii
Part 2: Sustaining Justice
9 Law enforcement in rural New South Wales:

preliminary findings about the ecology of policing 123
Patrick C. Jobes
10 Community justice: sustaining the community 141

Anne Ardagh and Guy Cumes
11 The survey-embedded experimental design:

shades of justice in Australia 149
Wolfgang L. Grichting
12 The myth of media objectivity:

images of ‘problematic’ young people 165
Ruth Webber
Part 3: Agriculture and Social Sustainability
13 ‘Country’ stories: oral history and sustainability research 183

Heather Goodall and Damian Lucas
14 Case studies:
theory and practice in natural resource management 201
Jim Crosthwaite, Neil MacLeod and Bill Malcolm
15 Place and sustainability:

research opportunities and dilemmas 217
Susan A. Moore
16 Sustainable environments and architecture:

Is design social research? 231
Jim Gall
17 Making the most of misclassification:

an application of discriminant analysis to the adoption of 245
household waste reducing behaviours
Ian Reeve
18 The social sustainability of agriculture in the urban-rural region:

attitudes of farmers to control of, and decision making about 257
farming on the urban-rural fringe
Ron Neumann, Roy E. Rickson and Geoffrey T. McDonald
19 Identifying farming styles in Australian viticulture 275

Luciano Mesiti and Frank Vanclay
Centre for Rural Social Research 289

The Australian Association for Social Research 291
iv
NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS
Anne Ardagh is a Senior Lecturer in Law, and Head of the School of Financial Studies,
Charles Sturt University, Wagga Wagga.
Allan Borowski is an Associate Professor at the Paul Baerwald School of Social Work
at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Israel. Allan has interests in ageing policy and
juvenile justice.
Jim Crosthwaite is currently a Research Fellow with the Department of Agriculture

and Resource Management at the University of Melbourne. He is on leave from the
Victorian Department of Natural Resources and Environment where he has worked on
economic and social issues associated with the conservation of biodiversity.
Guy Cumes is a Lecturer in Law and Social Policy in the School of Humanities and
Social Sciences, Charles Sturt University, Wagga Wagga.
Robert Doyle is the Director of the Centre for Rural Social Research, and Professor of
Social Work in the School of Humanities and Social Sciences at Charles Sturt
University, Wagga Wagga. He is interested in multicultural relations, indigenous issues
and community development.
Ian Falk is Director of the Centre for Research and Learning in Regional Australia, and
is Senior Lecturer and Sub Dean of Adult and Vocational Education at the University of
Tasmania. His academic interests also include communication, discourse, adult
learning, language and literacy. His particular sociological emphases lie in the
relationships between discourse, knowledge and ideology.
Jim Gall is a consultant landscape architect and is doing a PhD on social design in
architecture with the School of Architecture, Interior and Industrial Design at Queensland
University of Technology.
Heather Goodall is an Associate Professor of cultural and Aboriginal history with the
Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences at the University of Technology, Sydney.
Her current research relates to the social, political and cultural dimensions of rapid
environmental change where highly industrialised agriculture is penetrating the northern
floodplain of the Darling River, affecting Aboriginal communities, graziers,
townspeople, and the incoming farmers themselves.
v
Wolfgang Grichting is Professor of Social Science and Pro-Vice-Chancellor
(Research) at the Australian Catholic University. His interests are mainly in social
policy research (health, family, gambling, religion and welfare) and research
methodology. He was the foundation President of the Australian Association for Social
Research.
Pat Jobes has written extensively on rural communities and social change in the United
States, Romania and Pakistan. Dr. Jobes has attempted to incorporate fundamental
sociological theory and method into substantive research with practical applications.
Much of his research has been directed to analysing and resolving social problems
associated with rapid development. Since 1995, he has been teaching sociology at the
University of New England in Armidale.
Lynn Kemp is a doctoral candidate in the Division of Public Health at the University of
Western Sydney – Macarthur. Her study of persons with spinal injuries living in the
community in New South Wales, their carers and service providers, is the largest study
ever undertaken of spinal injured persons in Australia. Lynn also works as a Research
Assistant in the Research Office of the University.
Bruce Lagay teaches in the School of Social Work at the University of Melbourne. His
interests are information management in human services, program planning and
evaluation.
Damian Lucas is a researcher at the University of Technology, Sydney working

primarily in contemporary social and cultural analysis. He is a well-established
freelance radio producer on community radio and ABC Radio National. He is currently
undertaking doctoral research comparing perceptions of recently changing river systems
in coastal NSW and south western pastoral Queensland.
Neil MacLeod is a Senior Research Scientist at CSIRO Tropical Agriculture, St Lucia

Queensland. He has worked extensively on integrated research projects and has a strong
interest in extension and adoption of new information and practices.
Bill Malcolm is Associate Professor, Department of Agriculture and Resource

Management at the University of Melbourne and has published, worked and taught
extensively in farm management economics.
vi
Vince Marotta is completing his doctorate in sociology at La Trobe University and
teaches sociology at the University of Melbourne. His research interest include
ethnicity, social theory, and the philosophy and politics of social science.
Geoff McDonald is Professor of Geography at the University of Queensland and has

interests in environmental issues.
Luciano Mesiti is a graduate of the University of Western Sydney –Hawkesbury, and is

currently a doctoral student with the Centre for Rural Social Research at Charles Sturt
University in Wagga Wagga. He holds a scholarship from the Cooperative Research
Centre for Viticulture. He is conducting research into the socio-economic and socio-
cultural aspects of adoption of sustainable practices in the Australian viticultural
industry.
Susan Moore is a lecturer in environmental policy at Murdoch University. Her research

interests include environmental decision-making especially environmental dispute
resolution, the social construction of natural environments, and the interfaces between
biological diversity and human society. She completed her doctorate in natural resource
sociology at the University of Washington in 1994. Prior to that she worked as an
ecologist and planner for land management agencies in Western Australia.
Ron Neumann lectures in natural resource management and environmental dispute

resolution in the Australian School of Environmental Studies at Griffith University in
Brisbane. He maintains a commitment to interdisciplinary environmental studies and
has research interests in natural resource issues especially related to land use on the
urban-rural fringe, and resolution of public interest environmental disputes.
Ian Reeve is a Senior Project Director with the Rural Development Centre at the
University of New England and is responsible for applied research projects relating to
rural resource management. He is currently working on a PhD with the Department of
Sociology at the University of New England examining sociological aspects of the
generation and management of municipal solid waste.
Roy Rickson is a Reader in Sociology in the Australian School of Environmental

Studies at Griffith University. His research includes the local social and environmental
impacts of globalized agriculture.
vii
Mohammad Siahpush is a lecturer at La Trobe University specialising in class and
inequality, and sociology of work. His current research is in the field of sociology of
alternative medicine.
Geoff Syme is a Senior Principal Research Scientist at the CSIRO Division of Land and
Water in Western Australia. He is Director of the Australian Research Centre for Water
in Society. He is also Adjunct Professor of Psychology at Curtin University of
Technology. Dr Syme’s research relates to public involvement, social impact
assessment and psychological aspects of decision making relating to managing socio-
economic change.
Frank Vanclay is Associate Director and Key Researcher with the Centre for Rural
Social Research and Senior Lecturer in sociology at Charles Sturt University. Dr
Vanclay is the President of the Australian Association for Social Research, Vice
President of the International Rural Sociological Association and a Director of the
International Association for Impact Assessment. His research focuses on social impact
assessment, and the social basis of environmental management, especially in
agriculture.
Ruth Webber is an Associate Professor of Sociology at Australian Catholic University,

Victoria, and Vice President of the Australian Association for Social Research. Her
main areas of interest are family studies and youth studies. Her published work focuses
on stepfamilies, particularly adolescents in stepfamilies. Over the past two years she has
been engaged in research about the media’s representation of young people.
Gabriele Winter is a lecturer in sociology in the School of Humanities and Social

Sciences, and a member of the Centre for Rural Social Research at Charles Sturt
University. Her interests are in the areas of gender and sexualities, and social policy
especially relating to women, youth and ageing.
viii
Sustainability and Social Research
(something of a preface)
Sustainability is arguably the most important concept of the 1990s, and is an issue that
will continue to be important even if in time it fades from the political agenda. While
the concept has been around in various forms for a long time, it was the acclaim
achieved by the so-called Brundtland Report, Our Common Future, and the subsequent
government commitments, notably the Rio Declaration and Agenda 21, that were
expected through the discussions that lead up to, and after, the United Nations
Conference on Environment and Development at Rio de Janeiro in 1992 that have
caused sustainability to become such a pervasive concept. Michael Common, an
economist, in Sustainability and Policy regarded the Brundtland Report as “a brilliant
political document”. It had an effect where earlier reports had failed – even though the
message was essentially the same – because of the way environmental issues were
linked to social and economic issues, and the way commercial activities weren’t
fundamentally threatened.
While sustainability is a concept in a number of disciplines, it was the merging of the

economics and ecological notions of sustainability that led to the now interchangeable
concept of ecologically sustainable development (ESD). This was defined in the
Brundtland Report as development which “seeks to meet the needs and aspirations of
the present without compromising the ability to meet those of the future”. Key concepts
of sustainability include intra and inter generational equity. Clearly, sustainability is a
social concept. It relates to the ways people live and make their living, and where they
live. Sustainability is as much about health and well-being, welfare and social services,
culture and society, as it is about the availability of natural resources.
However, sustainability still tends to be seen primarily in physical terms and has tended
only to be addressed by physical scientists. Various physical scientists have chastised
social scientists for not considering the issue, and some have even ventured into social
scientific explorations themselves in order to fill the void. Potentially this is dangerous.
Social scientists have been rightfully sceptical about the concept and have probably
tended to ignore the issue not believing it to be generally applicable to them. Perhaps
other issues in social science have been seen as being more important so that little
attention has been given to this otherwise hot topic.
In an attempt to rectify this situation, and also to link the conference to the activities of
the Centre for Rural Social Research at Charles Sturt University who hosted the
conference, it was decided that ‘sustainability and social research’ would be the theme
for the 1997 conference of the Australian Association for Social Research, held at
Charles Sturt University in February 1997. The papers presented here in these refereed
and edited proceedings were given at that conference.
ix
While presenters had liberty to take a very broad understanding of sustainability, some
key themes emerged from the presentations. Not surprisingly, these issues are not much
different than the concerns of social sciences generally: issues of power and how it is
distributed across gender, class, ethnicity and aboriginality; issues of marginality and
disadvantage; issues of structures and institutional processes; and issues of
empowerment, learning and social and cultural development. Throughout the papers,
there was a strong call for the recognition of the social, and a call to improve the
contribution of the social sciences in policy, planning and resource management.
These issues, and sustainability itself, are fundamentally interdisciplinary. They, then,
are a perfect topic for the Australian Association for Social Research which sees that
that methodological and substantive research problems do not respect disciplinary
boundaries. The real issues are typically multidisciplinary. As a result, the most
promising research contributions come from critical borrowing and constructive use of
ideas, information and techniques from a variety of traditional disciplines.
The Australian Association for Social Research is a professional association dedicated

to the advancement of good social research practice. It achieves this by creating
opportunities for dissemination of ideas and new methods about social research, as well
as promoting improved use of existing techniques and approaches. Conferences, and
conference proceedings, along with other Association activities such as a journal, a
newsletter, a web site and listserv discussion group, all provide opportunities for this
exchange to take place.
The AASR’97 conference was enjoyable, not just in terms of the quality of the
presentations and the discussion accompanying them, but also in terms of the informal
and sociable nature of the conference. This was made possible by the contributions of
many. In particular, my thanks go to Debbie Strachan as the Coordinator of the Centre
for Rural Social Research who did a great job on many of the administrative and
organisational activities associated with the conference; and to Max Staples and his
panellists for their entertaining debate on consulting and social research. As delays in
publication were increasing due to my ever expanding activities, and my increasing
inability to complete the tasks at hand, I invited Luciano Mesiti to assist in the task of
editing the proceedings. Debbie Pickles also assisted in standardising references.
Carmel Egan assisted in the production process.
The production of conference proceedings is not meant to be a memento of the

conference, even if it may serve as that to those who were present. It is a valuable
collection of papers specially dealing with sustainability and social research, and yields
insightful analyses about several important issues. Especially in times of looming
resources shortages, it is imperative that the future hold some promise of a better life.
What needs to be appreciated is that this is still possible if social well-being and social
justice become increasingly addressed, especially now that the false promise of
boundless
x
resources brought about by technology has been severely challenged. Quality of life is
much more than standard of living measured by per capita GNP and an economic
system that exploits the environment. Hopefully a future rich in life can be found for all
citizens of the world through a greater awareness of the social factors that are central to
sustainability.
Frank Vanclay
Conference Convenor, AASR 1997
President, Australian Association for Social Research
Associate Director, Centre for Rural Social Research
Charles Sturt University.
xi
xii
KEYNOTE ADDRESS
2
AASR’97 conference proceedings
From hand to mouth:
1 the fluctuating fortunes of social scientists in

scientific research and natural resource
agencies
Geoffrey J. Syme
The ‘highs’ and ‘lows’
Over the past 20 years, I have worked as a social scientist within CSIRO, mainly on
matters relating to environmental management. During this period, there would have
never been more than 20 social scientists in an institution of about 7,000 people. With
fluctuating finances and management attitudes, a social science group varying over time
between 1 and 13 people has survived as the Australian Research Centre for Water in
Society (ARCWIS).
The ‘lows’ for social science have included a suggestion by a chief to stay home on a
day when a review panel was to visit the laboratory, and a threat by one staff member to
take me to court over research matters relating to studies on persuasion and water
conservation. The highs have included being awarded a CSIRO medal for research
achievement, and support by the water industry in the establishment of a national
centre, ARCWIS. Nevertheless, the highs are never far from the lows when social
science research meets government in non social service areas. This has been
demonstrated by the demise of the New Zealand Crown Institute devoted to social
science, and government sponsored bodies such as the Social Impact Unit in Western
Australia. It was further demonstrated when, in one day last year, ARCWIS received
accolades from a state government department for “a very important contribution” and
derision from another CSIRO group for producing “drivel” for the same report.
As social scientists (as distinct from economists), we need to examine whether there are
any general reasons as to why our role in such government organisations has been so
tenuous, particularly on issues such as environmental management. After all,
sustainable environmental management has major behavioural, cultural, institutional
and political components (Roe, 1996). One obvious argument, which has been
previously advanced, is that physical scientists are merely protecting their competitive
advantage by a variety of strategies from open denigration of the social sciences,
through ‘selective’ attention, to benign neglect. Hopefully, the situation has been
somewhat better in the university system as opposed to
3
the government context as evidenced, for example, by the success of the integration of
the social sciences into research and teaching of environmental issues at Charles Sturt
and Murdoch Universities. But in view of the urgency and size of many problems in
sustainable environmental management, it may be said that despite some quality
research, social scientists have not made the contribution they should have in this area.
In this paper, I explore a number of issues for improving the limited role government
social science, and social science in general, is making to sustainable environmental
management. These issues include: the nature of our own culture; the culture of existing
natural resource management institutions; what we have to add to ‘common sense’ in
contributing to problem resolution; and our limited ability to gain, rather than
understand, power in decision making.
Our own culture
The tendency of many social scientists is to assume that natural scientists or engineers
are simply too different and that they don’t and couldn’t understand the ways of
thinking of social scientists. But, in fact, the social sciences and physical sciences have
spent many years in harmony, and have values and cultures which have been quite
common.
[Initially] the social sciences took over the natural science faith in the establishment
of truth through empirical observation, precise quantitative measurement, objectivity
and dispassion and the discovery of laws by systematic application of scientific
method ... The social sciences – being relative latecomers – turned to the natural
sciences to generate their own claims to legitimacy ... this leads us to an
understanding of why the early pioneers described their efforts as social science
rather than as social something else (Smelser, 1996).
While parts of social science have moved on to eschew positivism and experimental
method in favour of post-modernistic and other modes of thinking and explanation, we
have continued in the attempt to add value to lay community ways of understanding the
social and natural environments. This has been done by specialist professional training
in terms of methodologies, and the development of concepts and language which look
suspiciously like science to the average citizen. The professional ‘mystique’ is added to
in professions such as psychology by official government registration and the
reservation of the title of ‘psychologist’ to those having prescribed university and
professional based training.
Thus in history, and still in a large degree of current professional practice, our own
culture and that of scientists have been similar in the use of logic and systematic
philosophy to solve problems. Social science culture has further parallels with the
natural sciences. Originally science was undertaken from a utilitarian perspective for the
presumed betterment of
4
humanity (Ravetz, 1993). Social science, too, has defined its utilitarian role as the
gaining of knowledge for the amelioration of social problems. Often in the
sustainability context, these problems have been defined as the failure of society and its
individuals and institutions to cope with technological or environmental change. The
knowledge of the social scientist, it is presumed, will alleviate the ‘problems’ in a more
efficient way than if social science investigation was not applied. To quote Etzioni
(1976), once a social problem has been defined and understood, the social scientist can
identify “what are the levers that must be moved in order to alter existing conditions”.
Nevertheless, there are many examples of cases, for both science and social science,
that well-intentioned technological development or ‘lever pulling’ have not turned out
as the (social) scientist has intended. Certainly, the unquestioning use of social science
to enhance ‘adoption’ of new technological developments can conceivably lead to a
compounded uncertainty of a positive outcome from both points of view.
Finally, as Stocking and Holstein (1993) have shown, social scientists also clearly use
the same rhetorical ploys as natural scientists to gain credence for their own findings in
comparison with others who may not agree with them. Thus, the reason for the lack of
assimilation of social science within the scientific fraternity is not necessarily due to the
cultural difference, but more that social scientists have arrived later and have attempted
to grow – or, more importantly, achieve – in the same way as their older sibling. While
such mimicry is understandable, it may not be successful in the longer term.
Needless to say, research always entails the risk of errors and mistakes. They form
an integral part of a scientific process. And although some disciplines such as
physics, appear to have a highly effective built-in organisation of self criticism and
self correction, other disciplines seem to lack these means. ... In such cases,
interdisciplinary status and power rivalries and battles may sometimes have a
corrective function. Generally only members of lower status disciplines are likely to
listen to interdisciplinary criticism – using them as a model they try to gain kudos
for their own field or perhaps for themselves. In reality they achieve little by this
kind of mimicry. They inevitably, fall between two stools and perpetuate the
ineffectualness and lowly status of their own field (Elias, 1982).
Assuming social science started as the ‘lowly’ discipline, it would seem that
identification or cultural similarity may not have been – or continue to be – the best way
for relative influence to be improved in the environmental sustainability debate.
Lastly, and on a more prosaic note, it must be acknowledged that while social science
culture has attempted to ape that of natural scientists, there is often much petulant
discussion among social scientists in the natural resources area – viz, that engineers and
natural scientists simply don’t understand social sciences, and even worse are not
interested!
5
Unfortunately here again is another parallel. Attendance by ARCWIS staff (including

the author) at science based seminars parallels the low levels of most scientists at our
own social science seminars. The percentage of published social science journal articles
referring to scientific issues, or even to the physical dimensions of environmental
problems in the most general terms, is quite small. Perhaps scientists and social scientist
may have the embellishments of the same culture, but differing worldviews which are
difficult to meld or even compare.
The culture of natural resource planning and management

agencies
In Australia, the most obvious institutions for social scientists to make a contribution, or
to find practical levers for influence, are the state-based natural resource management
and planning agencies. Here, knowledge of social impacts of policies, or understanding
the equity of decision making, for example, could be regarded as significant potential
contributions.
Unfortunately, currently, it is likely that many of the issues raised in discussing the
relationship between social and natural sciences are likely to recur as issues when
discussing relationships between social scientists and natural resource agencies in this
country. In fact, the understanding and trust between agencies and the social sciences is
so ephemeral that there are many positions involving group facilitation, community
planning and so on, in which social science qualifications are not even mentioned as a
prerequisite.
One of the reasons for this, is that at present, most natural resource agencies are largely
disciplinary based. Agricultural scientists tend to dominate agriculture departments,
those with a biological background environmental protection agencies, and so on.
Social science analyses or public involvement programs tend to act as an adjunct or
externality to the main purpose of the agency, which they would see as managing the
environment. Agencies tend to focus on outcomes, social scientists focus on process.
Creating an easy dialogue between the two approaches is hard.
Thus, those involved in the social science aspects (as distinct from economics) of
planning tend to have less status and less of a career path within a natural resources
agency. For an engineer, for example, it may not be a desirable career path to become a
public involvement manager. For a social scientist within an agency, it is an isolated
place without peer approval or support.
While a concerted effort by social scientists can and has been made to overcome the
barrier to progress, in recent years this has been thwarted by poor organisational
memory as natural resource agencies have been restructured, corporatised and
privatised. Managers and decision makers who have become familiar with the vagaries,
practices and advantages of
6
incorporating social analysis in decision making are often moved, and the ‘softening up’
or socialising processes have to begin again with a new engineer, biologist or other
scientist. Perhaps more progress may be made in future if a more stable institutional
environment emerges and social sciences are integrated more completely into science
and engineering courses.
What can we add to ‘common sense’?
It is commonplace for first year social psychology classes to be warned that if they find
something counter-intuitive in their investigations, it is likely to be derided as fanciful
or a product of poor methodology. Alternatively, such a finding is likely to be just plain
wrong, or else it would have been noticed before in our everyday lives. The contrasting
position of confirming the veracity of one of a number of possible explanations for a
social phenomenon is often dismissed as a trivial demonstration of ‘common sense’ (eg.
Middlebrook, 1974). This first year message should not be forgotten even by the
veteran practitioner, and especially the veteran practitioner in the environmental
sustainability field. This is particularly the case when we consider the psychology of
senior decision makers, regional natural resource professionals, and community groups.
Chief executive officers of resource agencies – whether one considers their disciplinary
background or not – have feelings of confidence in their judgements, and mastery of
their environment. This is, after all, why they became leaders of their organisations.
They also often have more background information than the social scientist called in to
examine an issue. Quite often, the social scientist’s tacit role is to confirm the CEO’s
perceptions as an independent investigator and to legitimise the department’s stance. If
counter-intuitive interpretations (from the department’s perspective) are obtained, at
worst the report will be ‘buried’; at best it will be referred to a committee for analysis.
Sometimes, the agency’s tacit motive is to use social science to delay precipitate action.
Understandably, very rarely are counter-intuitive findings taken for immediate
adoption.
At the regional public servant level, the often intimate nature of the relationship
between the public service personnel and key community members means that a local
social ‘reality’ has been created in terms of what is possible in terms of environmental
management. The reality may be an implicit force against change suggested by social
scientists and their findings unless care is taken to promote partnerships with the local
community and their institutions. “He/She has only been here five minutes what would
She/He know about what’s going on!” “This is yet another biased questionnaire.” The
problem is, that if too much of the regional perspective is adopted by the consultant or
researcher, the possibility of gaining new insights is minimised. If too little local
knowledge is incorporated, the likelihood of the findings being supported at local level
7
becomes low. The social scientist needs to carefully define their role as a change agent
in this circumstance. This issue is discussed below.
Finally, at a community level, it is sometimes assumed by the social scientist that they
will be welcomed as a someone who will help by providing new solutions to
contemporary problems. We like to be seen as the ‘good guys’. This is not always the
case. Frequently, all the community wants initially, is an adequate description of the
current situation, rather than any new revelations or compromise. Special interest
groups such as environmental groups may prefer to continue with their specialist
advocate position, rather than be compromised into being part of the general
community. Some activists in the community believe that social scientists can
encourage compromise in situations where it is inappropriate. Frequently, especially for
government-based social scientists, there is a preference by the community to stay out
of government-sponsored community research or development schemes, and rely on
their own skills and indigenous knowledge. For example, one community has used me
for training and advice about research methods, but has preferred to conduct the
research themselves. Thus, any change to a system which is suggested by social
scientists, and which is counter-intuitive, is also not highly likely to be quickly
accepted.
In summary, in contrast to ‘real’ scientists who may come up with useful and
‘objective’ solutions from time to time, social scientists and their contribution are more
heavily circumscribed by the local political and institutional systems within which they
work. This makes definition of a clear role and quick progress difficult. Perhaps this
discourages social scientists from a long term commitment to this area. Nevertheless, as
I and others have stated elsewhere, the significance of society and its opinions on the
activities of natural scientists, is likely to increase in the medium term and similar
challenges will need to be faced.
Our limited ability to gain, rather than understand, power
The differing disciplines within social science are replete with theoretical and applied
papers examining the functioning of planning institutions and the politics of power
within and between interest groups. It is noticeable, however, that social scientists have
not figured largely as ‘players’ in the field of sustainable environmental management.
Very few natural resource agencies (if any in Australia) are headed by people with a
social science as a first discipline. Indeed, as stated earlier, even quite modest jobs
demanding skills in community facilitation as a major component tend to be advertised
for disciplines such as Agricultural Science or Engineering. Presumably, it is believed
that since social science is merely ‘common sense’, these skills can be picked up as the
appointee gains experience.
If such a situation is seen as a problem by the social science community, it obviously

requires more assertiveness and goal-directed lobbying to attend
8
to it. There is a need for systematic thought about the roles we can take. Three readily
spring to mind: assimilation with the scientific community; independent
observer/critic/evaluator; or incremental partnership.
The first two roles have been the predominant approach in the past. The first,
assimilation, has been essentially described above in terms of culture. It seems a
fruitless method for consistently gaining influence. Even if we look like scientists,
relatively speaking, social science is still the ‘out group’ when resources are being
competed for. This is reflected in relative resource allocations when there is direct
competition.
Alternatively, a natural science group may foster social sciences purely for a utilitarian
purpose, such as assisting them to get their findings adopted. Often, the utilitarian
motive for social science involvement becomes ephemeral when social science cannot
guarantee instant or even timely adoption by potential user groups. For example, about
20 years ago, I wrote a paper for an agroforestry workshop saying it would take at least
20 years for there to be substantial adoption of agroforestry. It was not a popular paper
among the agroforestry community who had bravely allowed a social presentation. At
the time, I doubted whether any of the participants would have allocated money to my
research. But in 1996, the paper was quoted and accepted as reassurance at a workshop
that things had been progressing as predicted.
The role of independent observer/critic or evaluator is a common and valuable one

among university-based social scientists. Such a role allows social scientists to point to
distributional effects of policies, identify where processes have broken down, and focus
on areas where policy makers have had blinkered vision. Nevertheless, ‘basic’ or
‘objective’ research conducted under this rubric has the possibility of being dismissed
as ‘background’ research. In the alternative ‘critic’ or ‘advocate’ role, it is important
that we don’t become merely seen as post-hoc spoilers, who do not point to better ways
of doing things or improve the deficiencies which have been identified. Practitioners
and policy makers should not be allowed the luxury of dismissing criticism because it
does not recognise the socio-political climate at the time, or that the suggestions are
impossible to implement given normal institutional functioning. In some cases, this may
simply delay change. Of course, defensiveness will happen no matter how well
independent criticism is conveyed, and the social commentary role is an essential string
to our bow. This ‘hands-off’ approach should not perhaps be the only role our
professions should adopt if we wish to be associated with rapid beneficial change. But,
in the end, if institutions or policies are deemed inappropriate, we must have the
courage to say so regardless of the consequences.
The third approach, that of ‘incremental partnership’, has been the predominant, but not
the only, approach taken by social scientists within CSIRO. Because we are located in
government (however independent CSIRO may be perceived to be), we have attempted
to form partnerships with key players in the environmental sustainability context
outside CSIRO
9
and with key scientists within CSIRO. These partnerships are achieved by coming to
early agreed definitions of the nature of the problem and its social context, and by
working within these agreements.
The substantial advantage of this approach is that integration of our findings into policy
is often relatively quick and effective. The disadvantages of this approach are that: (1) it
can take a considerable time for partnerships to develop (eg. Syme & Sadler, 1994); (2)
there is increasing institutional change which means that partners disappear; (3) it is
hard to know when the partner has sufficient in-depth understanding of social
methodology or theory for a successful collaboration; and (4) the difficulties associated
with avoiding secondment by the client and their viewpoint.
This last issue (4) is especially important if the researcher is relying to a great extent on
external funds from the partner, as has been increasingly the case in recent years.
Nevertheless, this role would seem to be a useful adjunct to the observer/critic role
outlined above, and it is fair to say at an institutional, as opposed to community, level, it
has been relatively ignored in the past.
In summary, the latter two roles seem useful ones in enhancing social scientists’ roles in
the achievement of environmental sustainability. The assimilation role does not seem to
offer major long term benefits. The question remains as to what social scientists need to
do in any of these roles to create a greater influence.
Where to from here?
How can we be assured that our contribution will be more significant over the next
decade? Over this period, we are certain to continue to face the challenges outlined
above. We need a concerted effort to meet them. There is a need for three basic tactics
in which I believe the Australian Association for Social Research (AASR) can play a
significant leadership role. The first is the need to create a critical mass of social
scientists at all levels in the natural resource agencies. This would ensure that social
science considerations are naturally incorporated at the earliest stages of policy
formulation. This needs to be paralleled in environmental science and engineering
faculties of universities. While it would be beneficial to have our professions prepare an
integrated strategy for creating such a critical mass, in all likelihood we will depend on
our loose networks and opportunism over the next few years, although there is a need
for this to change in the long term. These loose networks, though, can be effective. They
can create actions as crass as competing for senior decision making positions, or
complaining when more junior jobs, which clearly would be suitable for social
scientists, are advertised without regard to our skills.
To implement the above, our second tactic will have to be that we change our
professional psychology from that of ‘fringe players’, to that of being
10
assertive enough to be leaders in the sustainability debate. For example, it is painfully

obvious that in comparison to (other) social scientists, economists feel confident to
comment on current issues of interest with a great deal of skill and certainty without an
over-reliance on presenting justifying data. Perhaps the time has come for social
scientists to entirely drop the scientist’s mantle on occasion, and comment more
consistently and assertively on on-going issues based on our professional store of
knowledge.
Finally, it is painfully evident that ‘social science’ consists of a number of disciplines

and sub-cultures. These have resulted in the past in numerous inter-disciplinary
squabbles. In the context of multi-disciplinary debate, it would be much better,
tactically, to use our differences as a strength and combine our perspectives. There is a
need for more concrete images among decision makers of what social scientists can do.
There is also a need to promote an appreciation that the quality of the decision making
process is as important as the outcomes being lobbied for by the agency’s constituents.
If these images are not created, we will continue to be merchants of ‘common sense’,
and forever battling common sense reactions to our research. Obviously this is easier
said than done, but surely an association such as the Australian Association for Social
Research is in a position to take a leadership role here.
I regard the adoption of these tactics as important, so I finish on a note of urgency.

Smelser (1996), and many others, have alluded to concerns about the lack of
institutional and community readiness to meet the challenges of the next century. In the
future, “increasing specialisation and interdependence in society will generate a
corresponding fragility – that is to say when there is a sneeze in one part the whole
system catches cold”. It is clear that Australia’s environment already has the sniffles,
and I doubt we have the social, political and institutional capacity to deal with it should
its condition worsen.
11
References
Elias, N. 1982. ‘Scientific establishments’ In N. Elias, H. Martins and R. Whitley (eds).

Scientific establishments and hierarchies. Dordrecht: Reidel.
Etzioni, A. 1976. Social Problems. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall.
Middlebrook, P.N. 1974. Social Psychology and Modern Life. New York: Knopf.
Ravetz, J.R. 1993. ‘The sin of science: Ignorance of ignorance’. Knowledge: Creation,
Diffusion, Utilization 15(2): 157-165.
Roe, E. 1996. ‘Why ecosystem management can’t work without social science: An
example from the California Northern Spotted Owl controversy’. Environmental
Management 20(5): 667-674.
Smelser, N.J. 1996. ‘Social sciences and social problems: The next century’.
International Sociology 11(3): 275-290.
Stocking, S.H. and Holstein, L.W. 1993. ‘Constructing and reconstructing scientific
ignorance. Knowledge: Creation, Diffusion, Utilization, 15(2): 186-210.
Syme, G.J. and Sadler, B.S. 1994. Evaluation of public involvement in water resources
planning: A researcher practitioner dialogue. Evaluation Review 18(5): 523-542.
12
PART 1:
SUSTAINING COMMUNITIES
13
14
Joys and sorrows of outrageous fortune:
2 or the challenges and perils of conducting

community-based research
Robert Doyle
Abstract
This paper is based on research which examined the contacts and relations within two
clusters (or groups) of ethnic communities in Australia who have a history of conflict
overseas. The focus is on the politics of community research whereby a funder, having
used public monies, may be able to restrict the publication of findings and conclusions
from a community research project. In such a situation, I describe the design of some
general findings of the research as a context for examining the nature and use of public
research data.
Community relations research
The study of the interaction among ethnic communities was carried out between March
1995 and July 1996 by a research team at the Centre for Rural Social Research at
Charles Sturt University in conjunction with the Kurdish Institute of Australia and the
Serbian Welfare Association. It was funded by the now defunct Bureau of Immigration,
Multicultural and Population Research (BIMPR). Representatives of the Serbian and
Kurdish community associations had expressed concerns over how (members of) their
communities were being treated in Australia, either because of a lack of information and
knowledge about their communities, or because of a degree of prejudice and
discrimination based on their ethnic identifications by other Australians. These concerns
led them to propose the research project which would examine their relations and
interactions with other specific ethnic communities in Australia. In doing so, they took a
risk of exposing negative as well as positive comments about and within their
communities. However, they agreed that the views of all respondents would be reported
as an integral part of the research process.
The project resulted in two case studies of community interaction. The first case study
centres around the Serbian community as the focal group. It examines the contacts and
interactions of members of the Serbian community with the Croatian and Bosnian
Muslim communities (identified
15
as the Former Yugoslavia Cluster). The second case study centres around the Kurdish
community as the focal group, and explores the contacts and interactions of members of
the Kurdish community with Kurdish, Arabic-speaking and Persian communities
(identified as the Kurdish Cluster). The project was designed to explore sensitive issues
of inter-community relations in Australia, particularly to what extent contacts and
interactions are affected by overseas events. However, the study was also conducted
within a context of war and/or oppression in their homelands for the ethnic communities
involved. Therefore, this context shapes both the content of the response, as well as the
intensity with which the responses were provided to the researchers. While the research
was conducted in a highly volatile atmosphere, for these communities conflict overseas
has been present over a long time, even centuries. The immediate context is that this
conflict exists now in a real sense for members of the communities in Australia.
The research involved 100 interviews with key informants within the communities, and
community group meetings in Sydney and Adelaide. Some members of the
communities kept diaries of events as the study proceeded. The research focussed on
two levels of analysis: the factual, including the recording or chronicling of statements
and events; and the interpretive where there is an attempt to provide a synthesis of
evidence, with meanings and understandings as a product.
The two case studies of inter-community relations do not provide for a comparison
between the two clusters, although they were reported in a common format according to
major themes. However, they provide a ‘slice of life’ of how some respondents from
ethnic communities view their inter-relationships over one significant period in time.
Findings
The findings are organised under six themes: (1) the importance of ethnicity; (2) factors
of importance in describing the relationships between ethnic communities; (3) contacts
with other communities; (4) the nature of interactions between communities; (5) the
overseas situation as an influence on community relations; and (6) improving relations
between communities.
The case studies show ethnicity is important among respondents in both clusters,
although Turkish respondents suggested that it is ultimately related to a sense of
nationalism. Also, respondents stated that belonging to ethnic organisations was
important for a variety of reasons, but many acknowledged that they did not themselves
belong to such organisations.
When respondents were asked to rate the importance of various factors in describing the
relationships with focal communities (Serbian and Kurdish) in their respective cluster,
many found it difficult to identify certain factors as significant and suggested that all the
factors were important and cannot be easily separated. Some respondents in the Former
Yugoslavia Cluster
16
denied that any of the factors identified were of importance. Because of the complexity
of the situations involving ethnic communities in each cluster, most respondents rated
all factors as important, but were unable to identify a few factors as central to
community relations.
In relation to expectations, Serbian and Croatians respondents stated that they had no
expectations of contact with each other because of their region of origin, while Bosnian
Muslim respondents were not as clear-cut. In the Kurdish Cluster, respondents stated
that they had some expectations of contact because of their shared culture and other
reasons such as personal relationships here in Australia. This expectation was less for
Persian and Arab respondents.
With regard to the influence of the overseas situation on personal interaction, in the
Former Yugoslavia Cluster, respondents who identified themselves as Serbian said that
their relations with the other communities were maintained only on professional or
work levels. Croatian respondents stated that they had no personal relations with Serbs.
And Bosnian Muslim respondents said their relations with Serbs had ceased to exist.
When asked to clarify if they perceived relations between their communities to be
affected, Serbian and Croatian respondents again stated that there were no relations
between their communities, while Bosnian Muslim respondents felt that the war had
‘broken ties’ between them and the Serbian community. In the Kurdish Cluster,
respondents agreed that relations were being maintained because of membership in
ethnic organisations, mixed marriages, attendance at festivals and other events.
However, they felt that the political situation overseas was an ‘interference’ in the
relations among their communities in Australia.
Respondents were asked to comment on the nature of the inter-community relations

with reference to the focal community. In the Former Yugoslavia Cluster, respondents
perceived few instances of collaboration or cooperation, some examples of competition
around grants applications and sports, and many examples of conflict. With such a high
degree of perceived conflict, respondents suggested that the prevailing situation was one
of ‘conflict avoidance’ in which community members were shunning interaction
between the Serbian and the Croatian and Bosnian Muslim communities. In the Kurdish
Cluster, responses to describe the nature of relations were mainly made by members
from the Kurdish community itself. They noted some examples of collaboration and
cooperation such as in demonstrations and fund raising activities, a degree of
competition for grants and control of local community agencies, as well as inter-
community conflict over problems in Turkey or elsewhere in the region.
In both clusters, respondents perceived that an array of barriers existed which prevented
their communities having more contacts and positive relations. In the Former
Yugoslavia Cluster, many of the comments referred to the war, biased treatment of their
communities within various media, and the lack of any mechanisms for constructive
dialogue. Moreover, few respondents suggested how barriers could be overcome and
some even
17
queried whether steps should be taken to overcome them. In the Kurdish Cluster,
cultural, language and political obstacles were noted, however, although there was a
sense that the communities did indeed want to move forward in relations, respondents
were unsure as to how to do this.
Some contrasts
Although these examinations of community inter-relations must be seen as two separate

case studies, it is worthwhile to comment on the contrast between them. On the one
hand, the picture of the Former Yugoslavia Cluster is pessimistic. The prevailing view
that respondents portrayed was that the relations between the Serbian and the Croatian
and Bosnian Muslim communities in Australia were not likely to be improved by any
efforts. Meanwhile, there may not be sufficient ‘will’ within their communities to take
up overtures which would construct more positive relations in this country, at least in
the short term. The canvas is one of mutual reticence to reach a reconciliation between
their communities in this country. What emerges from the responses is that there are
few suggestions for the communities themselves to undertake community education,
hold inter-community meetings or assume some leadership to break any impasses.
Recommendations were directed more to the international community, the media,
governments, or to other communities. They saw little responsibility to assume
leadership to improve inter-community relations and they saw little likelihood of any
recommended changes being successfully implemented.
On the other hand, the picture of the Kurdish Cluster is more optimistic. While
respondents saw that the overseas situation has affected their relations in Australia, they
were able to suggest a number of strategies to improve relations. Some of these
suggestions involved inter-community meetings and building on positive relations
which now existed among the communities. Respondents in this cluster also differed
from respondents in the Former Yugoslavia Cluster as they believed strongly that their
recommendations for change could be implemented but were unsure of how to
implement them.
These pictures demonstrate the difficulty of constructing an overall community relations

strategy which does not take into account that some ethnic communities may not wish
to have ‘positive’ relations with some other communities. At the same time, to live in
contemporary Australia it is vital to live within the bounds of what most Australians
want to achieve, a tolerant society which is ethnically and racially diverse, one which
gives everyone a ‘fair go’ and respect regardless of their country of origin, their
ethnicity or their background. Australian community relations strategies must recognise
that it is not easy for people from a variety of ethnic backgrounds and identities to live
in Australia as if events in other countries did not affect them and their relations here.
18
Funder demise and implications for community research
In the last stages of report writing, the funding body – the Bureau of Immigration,
Multicultural and Population Research – was disbanded. The research contracts with
this project, and numerous others at various stages of completion, were suspended by an
administrative fiat after an announcement in the August 1996 budget that the Bureau
was to be disbanded. The Bureau’s work would be absorbed into the Department of
Immigration and Multicultural Affairs. These changes meant that a vital source for
independent research in the area of immigration and multicultural research was lost to
the community.
In its wake, the Department would now oversee any outstanding research projects but
not within the public process by which the Bureau operated. It was announced that any
projects in train would be wound up and that the publications process would be
terminated. The implication was that whatever research which had been carried out, but
not published, could not be given a guarantee that it would be published and available in
the public arena.
For the project reported above, there was a likelihood that even if editorial changes
were made to the satisfaction of the Department to provide the final payment to the
researchers, no guarantee would be given that the report would be published as a public
document, although it might be available within the Department and/or for limited
circulation.
Private discourse
What we are left with, in the above scenario, is that researchers and others who may
know about the findings of a research project are left with limited avenues to discuss
such reports, and these limited avenues leave no means to influence public policy. First,
researchers are able to discuss findings within the context of conferences and
workshops (which are by nature limited in focus and audience) but cannot refer to any
published documents. Second, the document, or the report, is not available either to the
community of scholars in the field or to community members and research participants
who have a legitimate interest in the research outcomes. Third, the data on which the
research report is based comes from community respondents and may be seen as
‘community research’. However, it is no longer owned by the community; the data has
now become the property of a government funder which, although a public entity, is not
accountable to the community and may even act contrary to the community if it does
not agree with, or wants to censure the findings and conclusions of the research. Fourth,
the limitation on publication and wide dissemination of research results and conclusions
is also a limitation on the influence of community research on public policy making.
Such reports can have no influence on
19
public debates because they, for all practical purposes, do not exist in the public realm.
Confronting this dilemma is the assertion that community research, as participatory

research, is an instrument of community care. It sees research, not as the domain of
academics or government agencies, but of a whole range of participants, including
‘ordinary citizens’. It also sees participants as partners in the research which Goyette
and Lessard-Herbert (1985: 160) describe “as a circle or spiral where the return of
information between phases or on the level of the project as a whole is sought and
accepted as a plausible source of modification (choice) concerning the progress of
research and action”.
Public data
The converse of the above is that data from community research is obtained from the
community in a public fashion and becomes the property of the community. In these
neo-conservative times, even stating that the community ‘owns’ the data on which
research reports are written is contestable. As Cohen (1990: 239) remarks, “the
researcher may be an intellectual who is at odds with or an adversary of the system
which moves into a social control mode to contain research and to confine it to the
‘private’ sphere where government officials make decisions to either publish or keep the
research locked away. As long as problems are kept within the private sphere, they do
not have to be acknowledged, let alone dealt with”. Smith (1988: 3) discusses public
problems as “ones which require attention and action”. Public problems are those that
have become matters of controversy in the public arena, and for which official actions
are judged to be necessary. In response to these problems, public agencies are required
to take action.
Unless social research conducted within the community is in the public arena, its
containment may be seen as a kind of violation of justice in a policy process where
problems and their solutions may be conceived as having a ‘life’ during which time they
emerge, are defined and assessed, are confronted with strategic statements (policies)
and tactical measures (programs) that are meant to resolve or address them (Brewer &
deLeon, 1983).
An important aspect of research is that it is inevitably politicised. Rein (1983: 210-211)

speaks of the political nature of research as its essence as research serves a variety of
policy functions. The implication is that social research must be in the public arena in
order to be able to attempt to influence the policy process.
These functions – of containment, of achieving power, and policing – are not absolutely
distinct from one another. They are aspects of an integral part of the structure of the
political process in which a multiplicity of individuals
20
contend for the assertion of ideology and the mobilisation of power. Research, as some
would say, inevitably ‘becomes politicised’. The politicisation is not, I should contend,
a subversion of research. It is among the principal sources of its utility.
Conclusion
A project which investigated the relations of ethnic communities in Australia who have
a history of overseas conflict was presented. The project was in its final stages of
writing when it, and numerous other projects, were requested to cease research work
toward publication because the funder (a public agency) was summarily disbanded by
the government in power.
This project provides the backdrop for a discussion of the public nature of community
research, research funded by public agencies where the data has been collected by and
from the community. Such research serves a variety of policy functions and needs to be
within the public arena in order to be able to influence the policy process.
21
References
Brewer, G.D. & P. deLeon. 1983. The foundations of policy analysis. Homewood,
Illinios: Dorsey Press.
Cohen, S. 1990. Visions of social control: crime, punishment, and classification.

Cambridge: Polity Press.
Doyle, R. with Larry Stillman & Laura Wilkins. 1996. Without compromising identity:
community relations among ethnic communities with a history of overseas conflict.
Unpublished report for the Australian Department of Immigration and Multicultural
Affairs, Centre for Rural Social Research, Charles Sturt University.
Goyette, G. & Lessard-Herbert, M. 1985. La recherce-action: ses fonctions et son

instrumentation. Ecole de service social de l’Universite de Montreal, Montreal.
Rein, M. 1983. From policy to practice. London: Macmillan.
Smith, C.J. 1988. Public problems: the management of urban distress. London: The
Guildford Press.
22
‘Community learning’:
3 using learning to reconceptualise

community well-being
Ian Falk
Introduction
How can contemporary meanings of learning be used to develop a framework for

conceptualising community well-being and by so doing contribute to Australia’s
regional sustainability? Unemployment levels are often used by communities as
indicators of community well-being. For communities in regional Australia which are
unsustainable, marginally sustainable or sustainable, there is an issue that poor
‘employment self-image’ of the community can create further damage. Following a
search of the literature, there appears to be no overall conceptualisation or rationale of a
‘learning society’, ‘learning organisation’ or ‘learning community’ which identifies how
each group of learning differs from the summative learning impacts of the individual
members who learn in each of these sets. It is the aim of this paper to enter the
discussion on this cross-disciplinary task, using the work of Gee (1990 & 1997), Young
(1995) and others as starting points. The idea is to explore the possibility of promoting
community development as well-being through a community learning ethos, which is
forwarded as a replacement for stagnant development based on an unemployment self-
consciousness.
Some principles of critical social theory are used to forward a view of learning to be
used as some kind of a guide or reference point for the discussion. The notion of group
(team, community, organisation) learning is then explored in terms of shared value-sets
(Gee, 1990) and purposes for learning, which helps in the task of separating notions of
group learning equating or not with the sum of the individual learning parts. Once
again, using the notions of value-sets and Gee’s (1997) work on distributed knowledge,
the tentative conclusion is reached that, in terms of alternatives for ‘community
development’ in employment level terms, ‘community learning’ of the future can be
defined as learning events shaped around shared value-sets, where the overall purposes
for the learning events are for identified and shared community values. Valuing learning
(by individuals) is a crucial component of community learning, but a community of
people whose purposes for learning are in each case personal does not ‘add up to’ a
robust ‘learning community’.
23
Indicators of community well-being
Sustainability, regional and community development share strong underlying needs.

There is the need to accept and implement change, the need for accepting diverse values
and views, learning to work together, developing alternative means of reaching goals,
leadership issues and team work. There are symbolic terms which signify the struggle
various individuals and groups are engaged in to fulfil these needs. Various sessions at
the conference of the Australian Association for Social Research Conference,
‘Sustainability and Social Research’, used terms which included ‘development’,
‘empowerment’, ‘critical thinking’, ‘social construction’, ‘building a sense of identity’,
‘achievement and assessment of objectives’, ‘learning tool’, and ‘learning to make
decisions’. The Community Development Society in the USA uses language such as
‘capacity building’, ‘empowerment’ (again), ‘self-help’ and ‘local control’ (Hustedde,
1997). Fundamental to all these notions is a capacity to learn. In some cases, learning is
a direct synonym for the other terms. Yet learning in its own right seems to have
received little attention as a strategic process for implementing sustainability for regions
and communities.
This paper focuses on the regional nodule of a ‘community’ in order to expand the basis
for using learning principles and practice to bring about change for sustainability in
regional areas. More, the paper teases out possible components of what it might mean to
create a ‘learning community’ as a possible alternative to, or to supplement, community
indicators of well-being such as ‘unemployment’.
Unemployment levels are often used by communities as indicators of community well-

being (e.g., Simmonds, 1997: 16). Unemployment affects a community in more ways
than one, including its youth sector who often have to move to larger centres in order to
improve their chances of gaining employment. When changes to the agricultural sector
and related ‘bad times’ are combined with the contemporary moves to resource
rationalisation, evidenced in regional centres by the closure of services such as banking,
medical and government offices, it is becoming increasingly difficult for rural
communities to sustain a positive outlook amid such poor economic times. For
communities in regional Australia ranging from unsustainable or marginally sustainable
to sustainable, there is an issue that economic indicators such as poor ‘employment self-
image’ of the community can create further damage by acting as the only reference
point for being a successful community.
By contrast, so-called ‘good’ communities are reported to exhibit certain characteristics.

As an example, the regional daily newspaper of Tasmania’s northern region reports on
the township of Deloraine, which won the ‘1996 Australian Community of the Year’,
using words ranging from ‘pride’ (Editor, 1997: 8), to those of Voss (1997: 7): ‘spirit’,
‘teamwork’, ‘working together’, ‘friendly’, ‘support for each other’, ‘everybody pulls
together’, ‘co-operation between everyone’, ‘all walks of life working together’, ‘people
band together ... on a project’, ‘grassroots community action’, and:
24
What has been our strength is we’ve brought different lifestyles, different ideas and
different views together and moulded them into this community outlook. (Voss,
1997: 7)
The achievement is even more noteworthy when set against the original impetus for
repairing the community divisions of a decade or more ago caused by the ‘greenies’
versus the conservative residents, or ‘the good, honest old timers’ as Voss (1997: 7)
quotes one resident.
From a naive outsider’s perspective, it can be said that the Deloraine community has
certainly been engaged in constant ‘learning’. It has learned that there are benefits to
working together for common purposes, and it has certainly demonstrated that it has
learned to share certain values in order to achieve common ends. Equally obviously and
naively, the various factions and groups whose values originally did not coincide, have
presumably both maintained their individual (or separate group) values, and learned
some new values about the benefits of sharing goals while retaining diversity.
A note on definitions
As is usual, when cross disciplinary work occurs, definitions from the different
disciplinary discourse can easily be interpreted by the reader in different ways, with
different innuendos. I apologise for any confusion created by this state of affairs. The
most obvious example is the possible confusion over the term ‘community’, and I will
note here that it is used also to apply to a community with geographic boundaries. This
meaning has the sense that a township may be at the hub of such a community, but
certainly in the sense where people interact regularly on a face-to-face basis.
There is, however, a body of literature related to learning based around the term
‘learning communities’ (e.g., Brooks & Moore, 1996) and ‘communities of practice’
(e.g., Billett, 1995; Gee, 1997; Lave & Wenger, 1991). While such communities of
learners may network face-to-face, they may exist only across electronic space in the
‘interactive learning paradigm’ (Lemke, 1996).
The term ‘group’ also has different meanings from the sociological ones to common
usage. In this paper, the term ‘group’ is used to indicate a collection of two or more
people. It is used here in the two-word phrase ‘group learning’ to include small groups
of learners such as small workplace teams of only a few people, as well as larger groups
of people, such as the membership of a township or a corporation.
The author of the paper comes from a group of theories which maintain a view of the
world explained as ‘texts’ and ‘discourses’ which are related to social practices
interpretable only as the products of historical, social, economic and cultural influences;
these products are also viewed as exerting power, of advantaging some people at the
expense of others; it is a view founded on problems associated with, among many ideas,
that of ‘difference’.
25
In addition, I have found myself slipping between meanings for learning. On the one
hand, I suggest that the most useful way of looking at ‘contemporary’ views of learning
is by showing how the word ‘learning’ itself is a socially defined term whose meaning
will vary depending on the characteristics of the particular group who uses it at a
particular point in time. This view allows me to show that currently accepted
contemporary meanings are influenced by particular contemporary social characteristics
which will also vary from one site, society, culture or group to another. Hence
‘learning’ to those who learn the Koran by rote has different meanings and processes
involved from those who learn how to ride a bike, replace a diesel engine or learn how
to perform brain surgery. However, I come from an education and socialisation of a
particular kind, and feel sure that there is slippage in my own use of the term ‘learning’
as being based on the mainly individualistic psychological paradigm of the 1960s and
1970s.
I therefore ask readers to be aware of these and many other definitional and
terminological problems, and to use this as an opportunity of identifying where further
research work needs to occur to cross these boundaries of meanings.
Aim and plan of the paper
The aim of the paper is to use contemporary meanings of learning to develop a

framework for conceptualising community well-being and by so doing contribute to
sustainability at community and regional levels. It will be argued that reconceptualising
well-being in terms of ‘sustainable learning communities’ is a new and powerful way to
differentiate ‘sustainable’ from ‘unsustainable’ social environments and thus to identify
new criteria for resourcing and levels of support for rural and regional communities in
the future.
A conceptual framework is a powerful and practical media, policy, funding and research
tool: One example is that it broadens the power base of practitioner and lobbyist
activity; another example is that it provides adult educators and the vocational
education and training sector with additional rationale, in this case economic, for
involvement in community development. I would like to believe that a coherent
conceptual framework can be developed in due course, since (a) a powerful theory is
the most practical of tools, and (b) there is some recognition that the ‘old paradigms’ are
as much subject to the onset of what Field (1995: 151) describes as “more permeable,
fuzzy boundaries” as other aspects of societal activities.
The aim is ambitious, but is based on the belief that, in times of such change, it is
important to spur discussion about such broad social frameworks. For these reasons it
will not be possible to do more than suggest the literature bases for some sections. As
well, there are sections where readers will be able to add whole literature sources which
are
26
entirely unknown to the author, which is the challenge of multi-disciplinary work.
The plan of the paper is to begin with a sketch of a social theory which allows links
from the macro individual and community level with broad social aims and patterns.
The framework permits extensions to cross-disciplinary work in explaining how the
sciences, social sciences, arts and humanities can form part of the one explanatory
framework. In other words, consideration has been made in order not build walls
between disciplines, rather to allow scope for their incorporation.
In order to explain how community well-being might (or might not) related to a
community learning ethos, the paper then explores the rationale for changes to
conceptions of learning and some of the features of ‘new’ learning. It does this from the
perspective that contemporary changes to society and social practices and the resultant
demands on people as social participants is forcing recognitions of new constructions
and meanings of ‘learning’. These conceptions range from new-age individuals linking
and learning with instant and interactive global electronic network groups to the work
teams of the future whose group learning is in an environment characterised by
distributed knowledge.
In terms of reconceptualising indicators of community well-being, the elaboration of

learning provided allows a clearer concluding view of how learning might be seen as an
alternative to unemployment indicators of community well-being.
Key questions
In making connections between community well-being and learning, the overarching

question for the paper is, How can learning be used to promote greater understanding
of differing value-sets to enable a plurality of ‘communities of practice’ within a
geographic location? However, this question does not suggest a starting point for such a
discussion, and the paper must start by concentrating somewhere.
In the context of an examination of the well-being of a community argued as being a

group of learners, the paper needs to look more closely at contemporary meanings of
learning which occur in a social context. The resulting questions which therefore govern
the structure of the remainder of the paper are:
a) What are the characteristics of the social practices grouped around ‘learning’ events
which are exercised in the groups? and
b) What are the characteristics of processes and people that contribute to the social
events of group learning events?
27
By setting out the discussion in this structure, it should be possible to conclude by

bringing together the strands in the paper about learning-as-changes-to-social-practices,
and the idea of community learning revolving around the reconciliation of differing
value-sets. Elaborating learning in this way allows a clearer view of how learning might
be seen as an alternative to unemployment indicators of community well-being.
Social critique as the basis for positive community learning
The paper begins with the broad contextualisation of learning in critical social theory
(e.g., Habermas, 1972). It is argued that ideas about what is accepted as public reality,
community knowledge and the ideologies of distinctive learning groups is socially
constructed (Berger & Luckmann, 1966). Through the manipulation of discourse
practices (Fairclough, 1992), the print and visual media play a large role in this social
construction (Falk, 1994). In the broader sense, the mechanisms which make these
meanings tangible and substantial from time to time – and therefore believable – are
obviously complex and multiple, and derive from historical, social, political and
economic circumstances.
In arguing from a critical theoretical basis, the paper has three primary assumptions:
The first assumption is that what we see as reality is socially constructed (e.g., Berger &
Luckmann, 1966; Habermas, 1972). This assumption has two parts: (a) that the
components of that reality are social events which are identifiable, and (b) that the
social events are constructed by certain social practices which are identifiable.
‘Learning’ is viewed as one such group of social practices. The second assumption
states that what we perceive to be real includes social events construed not only as
‘knowledge’ (e.g., Habermas, 1972) in the epistemological sense, but as values and
value systems or ideologies as well (e.g., Falk, 1993, 1995; Gee, 1990), since
knowledge is also a kind of ideology (Falk, 1997). Learning is assumed to be the
acquisition of such knowledge and values.
The third assumption asserts that reality is constructed through identifiable social
practices called discursive practices which are interpreted differentially. The effects of
the differential interpretations are often attributed with the possession of power, but
power is a vague name, used as if it is tangible, and it is argued that it is incorrect to
treat it as a concrete object. Through viewing power as an effect of differentially valued
social practices, it gives a method of looking at what the social practices are which are
exercised differentially, and how it is that those social practices are exercised
differentially – the mechanisms that cause the differentiation to occur. Discursive
practices (e.g., Falk, 1995; Fairclough, 1989; Gee, 1990; Macdonell, 1986) are
embedded in all social activities including, and perhaps most importantly, those related
to ‘learning’. ‘Importantly’ because discourse always involves more than one
individual’s texts. Learning with and through the texts positions the learner as a member
of a group of texts, and in this sense all learning is social, and all learning occurs in a
group,
28
even when the authors of the participating texts are not physically present. In this sense,
knowledge (‘cognition’ in psychology terms) is distributed.
There is another sense in which the notion of ‘individual cognition’ or ‘individual

learning’ is now insufficient, and it stems from the last discussion. The more traditional
views of the individual’s relationship to others as internalised and particular to an
individual breaks down upon scrutiny of the origin of the ‘raw material’ of the
cognition. The socialisation process has ensured that the building blocks of people’s
cognitive processes are themselves derived from representations of various ‘external’
discourses and specific identified social groups whose communication practices are
based around a distinct set of values – the latter are termed ‘Discourses’ (with a capital
‘D’) by Gee (1990). There is much in this for a supplementary discussion about
meanings for a quite new field called ‘distributed cognition’.
In an age which Agger (1991: 2) has called ‘fast capitalism’, the multiplicity of media
audio and visual texts (Kress, 1993) and the variety and intensity of the media which
dispense them has resulted in a deskilling of the social participant’s critical capacity, as
Agger (1991: 2) claims:
Texts are dispersed into the texture of an everyday life in such a way that they are
not read critically, at one remove, but are received and enacted vicariously.
Any kind of learning requires the social participants to have an understanding and
knowledge of society and the ways it works from understandings of cultural diversity,
the ways power and control interplay through social institutions and organisations, to
the extent to which social participants make sense of and act on and between those
forces and interactions.
Paralleling more general trends in philosophy, psychology and sociology of shifts from
an ‘individuality’ (Gee, 1997) orientation to a focus more on groups and team-based
discourse, conceptions of learning have changed. The work on learning of a few
decades ago provided a vast amount of new information and knowledge about learning,
and what I say here has little to do with the enormous contributions of the researchers of
the times. It has to do with the ways that contemporary constructions of learning are
changing.
For example, researchers such as Pavlov, Skinner and Piaget, focus variously on how an
individual (often an individual animal) responds to stimuli in a variety of ways and so
‘learns’ or ‘develops’. The environment of such development may indeed be a social
one as in the case of Piaget, but the focus is on the individual thinking and responding
to, not with, that environment. This discourse to do with individuals, their cognition and
actions, has increasingly given way to the discourse (Fairclough, 1992, Gee, 1991) of
group learning. Examples include learning societies (e.g., Young, 1995), learning
organisations (e.g., Senge, 1990), learning communities (Brooks, 1995) and learning
teams (e.g., Cocheu, 1993).
29
What is learned will be determined by attitudes and values as well as the boundaries of
the knowledge base which forms the content for learning. While it is a gross over-
generalisation, and possibly not provable, the de-skilling of the social participants’
critical capacities might well be conjectured to adversely affect learning if, as Agger
suggests, the textual and media bombardment inhibits critical readings of these crucial
social texts. At the very least, there is enough research literature to indicate that critical
capacities are at the core of successful learning, as Young, drawing on the work of
Engestrom (1995: 161), also concludes.
Group learning: towards ‘learning societies’
In order to explain how community well-being might (or might not) relate to a
community learning ethos, and with the broad portrait of the theoretical backdrop to
learning put forward in the previous section now in place, the present section now
moves to explore the rationale for changes to conceptions of learning and some of the
features of ‘new’ learning. It does this from the perspective that contemporary changes
to society and social practices and the resultant demands on people as social participants
is forcing recognitions of new constructions and meanings of ‘learning’. These
conceptions range from new-age individuals linking and learning with instant and
interactive global electronic network groups to the work teams of the future whose
group learning is in an environment characterised by distributed knowledge.
I will start with the identified reasons for the recent increased interest in ‘organisational
learning’ and relate this first to Young’s idea of a ‘learning society’, then to Gee’s
(1997: 12-16) most recent work on group learning instantiated as ‘communities of
practice’.
Organisational learning
It is commonly identified that Western society (at least) is experiencing a burst of rapid
change in what is sometimes know as the information or technological revolution, or
even the ‘digital renaissance’ (Spender, 1997: Syte 4). The nature of the changes have
been discussed for at least two decades, but seem to crystallise around these six points
made by Field (1995: 151-154). It should be noted that Field is discussing these points
in relation to organisational learning in modern enterprises, paraphrased here:
30
• Environmental turbulence
The speed of change plus amount of information produces a pressure to learn more,
and more quickly;
• Knowledge as a primary source
The decline of the manufacturing and growth of service and information industries
means organisations will depend more on the capacity to extend knowledge and
apply it effectively;
• Multi-dimensional change
Integrated change across all sections of an organisation (e.g., employee relations,
work organisation, skills, technology and information management) produces a need
to know more across boundaries of specialities;
• More permeable, fuzzy boundaries
A breakdown of barriers between inside and outside the organisation, strategic
alliances formed, visits across sites for, e.g., benchmarking, layers of internal
management are flatter, computer and other networks facilitate collaboration and
sharing, which produces a huge knowledge flow and necessity to learn;
• Reduced time frames
The pressure of reduced time frames results in a need to absorb new concepts, values
and integrate new software and hardware;
• Internationalisation
Instant global communication and trade in a deregulated environment means a
magnified urgency for a flexibly trained workforce in responsive organisations.
There are four recurring themes in these points: (a) communication; (b) a focus on
knowledge; (c) a need to adjust to a incorporate new values; and (d) flexible assemblies
of skills required in the workforce. These aspects lead to a view of the kind of learning
characterised here as being ‘instant’ and ‘constant’ and of a fundamentally different
nature to the kinds of learning with which we may be more familiar. While Field may
be locating his discussion in the specific context of organisational learning in modern
enterprises, the influences he identifies are at the level of the broader society.
Group learning & communities of practice
As noted in earlier sections, people and groups of people in a society have sets of values
which I will call ‘value-sets’ from now on. Some of these value-sets may be shared
across all elements of the community. Other values and value-sets differ from one group
or individual to another, while some values are specific to a particular individual, team,
community or organisation. These values interact with each other when individuals,
organisations and communities mix together. These interactions can be neutral, positive
or negative. But it is the interactions between groups and people’s values which result
in change. The sets of values are often called ‘cultures’, and this is a term often used in
relation to organisational change, where bringing about change is likened to changing
the ‘culture’ of that
31
organisation, workplace, team or individual. Because these value-systems are inter-

linked, there are strong forces against change in any part of society. Change in any one
part of society will result in connected ‘reactionary’ ripples which serve to maintain the
status quo.
From learning communities to a learning society
(Gee, 1997), forms a tangible idea of communities of practice, from which a

conceptualisation of ‘learning communities’ can be extrapolated. In this latest paper,
Gee finishes by posing an “emerging solution to New Capitalism’s dilemmas” (p. 12).
He poses a range of ways in which work will take place. According to Gee, learning of
the future will be marked by the following seven characteristics, consistent with Field’s
six conditions for modern learning organisations, summarised and largely (I hope)
reflecting Gee’s intent:
1) Work will be managed by projects, large and small;

2) Each project will be conducted by a team of workers;
3) The project process will involve knowledge which is both:
• distributed across people, tools and technologies, not held in any one
person or thing, and
• tacit, in that the knowledge is gained by a team and cannot be verbally
explained easily, and is built into the ways people communicate with
team members and their work environment;
4) The process forms a network-like system of people, technologies and things in
complete interaction where no one aspect contains (or need contain) the whole
body of knowledge;
5) New workers are apprenticed into the network not primarily by overt instruction
but by acquiring the tacit knowledge that is built into the system;
6) In this process knowledge is dispersed, meaning that there is no need, given
modern information and communication technology, for team members to be in
the same place (geography) or always to communicate face to face;
7) Workers in these teams must:
• have extensive not just intensive knowledge,
• shed narrow specialities and perform functions that integrate and overlap
with other people’s functions
• must understand the whole process and all functions within it.
Learning communities are the missing conceptual link in between more traditional
views about individual learning and ideas about a ‘learning society’ (e.g., Young, 1995)
or even ‘global learning’ (e.g., Newman, 1993: 3).
Young (1995) sets out a description of present models of post-compulsory education as

he identifies them now, leading to a suggested new model, one which he terms a
‘learning society’.
32
Implications for ‘learning’
So far, the paper has described some of the social conditions leading to a recognition
that meanings for learning are now much more comprehensive that before. I will now
set out a summary of the key issues related to learning, as I see them, which have arisen
so far:
• the complexity and number of features of learning are enhanced because the speed of
change and the nature of the global context have resulted in the identification of
more social practices as ‘learning’
• traditionally valued forms of learning are seen to be changing, and are often shown
to be counterproductive to the objectives of contemporary necessity for learning,
which is more often ‘informal’ – for example, it is not only seen to occur in ‘classes’
or training rooms but on the job and at a computer monitor, over an extended period
of time (the notion of a ‘lesson’ in chronological terms is not as significant as it was
even a few years ago)
• there is a definitional problem associated with the term ‘communities’ which is used
in both geographic, demographic, socioeconomic and cultural terms, but also in non-
geographic (electronic) meanings; this needs to be considered in describing site-
specific characteristics of the nature of any learning event
• the context of learning is increasingly shifting and complex, and there appear to be
no simple answers or quick fixes to questions about the most effective learning
‘strategies’ or ‘conditions’ which might enhance learning under these circumstances
When the previous factors are considered, the following characteristics or features of
learning seem to emerge:
• that learning occurs across multiple geographic sites as defined by geographic

indicators, but in the case of ‘community learning’ in this paper the community itself
is deemed to be anchored by physical geographic bounds; meanings of ‘learning’,
though, may vary from one site to another
• that learning involves a learner who has certain characteristics and expectations, but
that those characteristics will vary from learner to learner and place to place, and
contribute differently to the ‘distributed cognition’ of the learning
• that the meaning of learning (as a word) incorporates ideas of the material which is
learned (content), but that in future learning sites, some researchers suggest that the
content may be include more ‘knowing how’ (procedural knowledge), ‘knowing
that’ (knowing about facts including values); and less ‘knowing-to-do’ (skills).
• that ‘learning’ consists of some kind of interactive process involving the learner and
the content that is learned via texts which themselves are reflections of social
discourses; the notion of a ‘lesson’ as a learning event which has a beginning, middle
and end, defined by a chronology, appears proportionally less significant in the
contemporary meanings of learning
33
• that learning occurs under such circumstances for a certain purpose or outcome, and
that this outcome can be determined by the learner, bureaucratic or governmental
policies, or local employment conditions at an institutional, systems and site level
• that judgements about whether or not, or how much, learning has occurred are based
on a range of criteria; the criteria may or may not be explicit to the person judging,
and are likely to be quite different according to whether the criteria are derived from
the individual, group, community, institutional, political or socio-cultural value
platform.
Given these parameters, it is possible to suggest that traditional behaviourist and

cognitive psychological explanations of learning based on individualistic notions are
insufficient to account for range of ways that learning is being recognised as such under
the contemporary societal conditions.
The next section attempts to reformulate the definition for learning and to pose a
developing framework for considering learning which draws together the threads of
previous sections. Such a developing framework not only draws together and is
consistent with the principles set out in earlier sections, but also can be used in very
practical ways as a guide to analyse, develop and implement critical learning responses
for community sustainability and well-being.
A framework for considering ‘learning’
In this section, I propose to set out a set of explanatory conditions and characteristics of
learning. First a definition of learning to account for contemporary changes is
formulated; then, before moving to the concluding section, the component aspects of
learning are proposed, with some explanation.
Learning as changes in social practices
Building from the work of, for example, Falk (1995), and Gee (1997), the recognition
that learning is shaped by its purpose and the interaction of the value-sets of the
participants (Falk, Kilpatrick & Morgan, 1997) enables a view of learning to be put
forward which is, I think, new. It is this:
Any definition of learning should take account of two axes: (1) the purpose for learning
and (2) the value-sets required as outcomes of the learning event.
There is a great deal of rhetoric about so-called ‘learning organisations’. Using the
purpose for learning as one axis, and value-sets as the other, any learning event can be
more clearly defined as to its anticipated outcomes and its contributing attributes.
34
The tentative definition of learning proposed is that learning is a group of social

practices which will vary widely, and such variations will be dependent on variations of
sites, institutions and other systems in which the learning practices occur. Consistent
with this definition, the outcomes of learning will be the demonstrable changes which
occur to these social practices. While it is possible to talk of ‘learning’, it is not possible
to show it has occurred without showing that something has been learnt, be this
‘something’ skills, knowledge or values. In other words, it is not possible simply to
learn: it is only possible to learn something.
The relationship between assessing learning, the learning event or process itself and the
nature of what is learned is at the core of present debates about, for example, the
relationship between competency-based assessment and curriculum, and the nature of
knowledge itself.
Features of learning:
The explanation of learning put forward here should be viewed as developing, and as an
explanatory framework. This means that its purpose is to assist in the explanation of
learning under the conditions of contemporary society set out in the earlier sections of
this paper.
There are five groups of factors all of which, it seems on reflection of the prerequisites
conditions which precede here, contribute to learning. It is recognised that a successful
view of learning will need to explain individual learning as well as learning in groups,
since groups are collections of individuals. Each set of factors may be present to a
greater or lesser extent in any learning event:
1 What are the characteristics of the learners?

The prior knowledge, values and experiences of the learners will have an
influence on how quickly, or with what value-sets, the learning might occur.
2 What are the learning processes involved at the times when learning is said to
occur?
The particular learning processes or activities selected or in operation, in
combination with the learners’ backgrounds and desired/intended learning
outcome/purpose, will also influence the nature of the learning.
3 What are the texts and materials involved in the learning process?
Included in the learning activity will be any materials which form part of that
activity. Other aspects of the materials include the use of voices and their
modality.
35
4 By what and whose criteria is it judged or deemed that learning has occurred?
The fourth aspect involved in learning relates to the tasks, or criteria by which
learning is judged to have occurred. This aspect is closely related to ‘assessment
and evaluation’, although the latter implies a formal assessing and evaluating,
while criterial tasks may be more implicit.
5 Site, institution and system purpose

The purpose for learning will influence the learning outcomes and the nature of
the criteria applied to its success or otherwise; broadly speaking, these purposes
can be identified as originating or belonging to the site (e.g., a workplace) where
learning occurs, the institution (e.g., an institute of technical and further
education) if any in which the learning takes place, or the system (e.g., a
Governmental Education Department); recognising and making explicit site,
institution and/or system purposes helps determine worth and value-set origin of
existing or proposed learning processes.
In groups 1 to 4, the ‘amounts’ or quantities of each aspect vary in each instance of

learning. In one case, materials might be crucial, for example, in open learning or
distance education. In another, as is the case of, say, learning legal texts, the material is
central because of the value of the text within the culture, not as a ‘learning aid’. The
prior knowledge, attitudes and experience of the learner in relation to the learning task
varies in its influence, depending on the purpose of the learning activity.
Each of the first four aspects will vary according to the purpose of the learning in
question and the value-sets of the participants. If the learning has the purpose of
reproducing information, such as mathematics tables learned by rote, then each of the
four aspects will vary. If the purpose of the learning is to produce a workplace report,
then the kinds of features, and the proportions of them which occur in each of the four
aspects, will vary once again. If the purpose is to learn how to undertake QA procedures
which are unfamiliar, and which represent a threat to an existing lifestyle, the each of
the four groups will vary once again. So the purpose, or perceived purpose for the
learning will bear a relationship of some kind to the nature of the four aspects.
The bases for this framework originated with the work of Jenkins (1978), adapted by
Bransford (1979: 8) as “An organisational framework for exploring questions about
learning, understanding, and remembering”. It was further adapted by Falk (1995) to
account for the multiple aspects of learning discussed in this chapter.
36
Conclusion and summary
The paper argues that a reformulation of ‘learning’ as a basis for reconceptualising the
well-being of a community requires an explication of meanings and characteristics of
learning in contemporary society. It is posed that ‘learning’ consists of sets of valued
social practices which vary from time to time and place to place depending on
prevailing socio-cultural and economic conditions. The importance of values lies as
well in another direction, in that the value-sets held by individuals, groups and societies
vary from one to the other, and the valued ‘knowledge’ which forms the content of
learning is socially constructed – meaning constructed in and by groups.
However, it seems that the term ‘social construction’ is too general a term to use when
specific features of shifting meanings for ‘learning’ in contemporary society need to be
identified. These features of learning are influenced by general societal trends
associated with times of rapid social and technological change. The identifying features
of contemporary learning are also influenced by specific aspects associated with
learning processes. The term ‘social construction’ is qualified and explained by
reference to these general and more specific aspects.
I believe the paper has made a start at the task of reformulating contemporary
constructed meanings for learning by showing how learning, as a set of social practices,
has acquired certain valued characteristics, functions and purposes in accord with new
social and work patterns. These patterns are characterised by a recognition of the
increasing influences of group interactions on present meanings of learning, while
incorporating an account of individual learning processes as a component of the
learning process.
Environmental turbulence, knowledge as a primary source, multi-dimensional change,

more permeable and fuzzy boundaries, reduced time frames and internationalisation are
the six recent areas of change identified in the literature. These six areas are
underscored by the newness of features of the four identified themes of communication,
knowledge, values and skills. The intensity of incidences of ‘newness’ itself causes an
urgency for learning. The learning is required instantly and constantly, and is therefore
of a qualitatively different nature from the more formal and traditional, school-like
constructions of what were mainly individual constructions of learning.
While learning which occurs with an individual at a computer can be argued to be

‘group learning’ since the interaction is with a community of texts whose authors are
not physically present, the purpose of this paper is to look more closely at group
learning, with particular practical applications for community learning. Gee’s (1997)
discussion of work in organisations for the future (project-based, operated by teams,
involve distributed and tacit knowledge) are used to summarise the characteristics of
team activity in
37
what he defines as communities of practice. This may be a useful idea for formalising a
theory to inform all levels of group learning.
The framework for considering aspects of learning which is finally proposed rests on
the view of learning as being a change in social practices which are themselves
structured for meaning around value-sets.
Learning is a response to a purpose and difference (change from one value-set to

another). In many ways, the purpose is shaped by, and overlapping with, the differences
in value-sets (Our purpose is to learn the values of Brand Corporation so our jobs are
more secure). Value-sets are held by individuals, groups including geographically
defined communities based on, say, a township, organisations, institutions and societies.
As a result, it is reasonable to argue that learning occurs around two axes (not the right
word): the purpose for the learning and the value-sets of the participating individuals
and groups.
Community learning can be viewed as learning which has recognised community

purposes and which will achieve a reconciliation of the participants’ value-sets. As
mentioned, the purpose will often be shaped by, and be identified as a result of
differences in value-sets.
It is through learning that communities develop in recognisable ways.
It is possible to imagine a community which develops without learning in, say, the
instance of a gold discovery with the accompanying flow of people and money.
However, this paper suggests that for communities which are marginally sustainable, or
are sustainable but ‘stagnant’ (lacking ‘development’?) the way forward might well be
to supplement community self-conceptions of development as equating to employment,
with development equating to learning.
I propose that this can be achieved through sets of strategies based in common
purposes, reconciling differences in value-sets, spurred by an ethos of critique and
recognition of the composite yet different aspects of contemporary group learning
demands.
Research implications
The research implications which result from the ideas put forward in this paper belong
to all researchers, and it is hoped, as an outcome of the paper, that the Centre for
Research and Learning in Regional Australia can help facilitate multi- and cross-
disciplinary research agenda around some of the possible questions (not intended to be
research questions) which arise, namely:
1. How can community development and learning be used to reformulate conceptions

of, and practice in, community well-being and sustainability for regional Australia?
38
2. How can learning be used to promote greater understanding of differing value-sets to

enable a plurality of ‘communities of practice’ within a geographic location,
including crucial economic and employment values?
3. How can conceptions of economic and social development be formulated into

criteria for establishing resourcing and levels of support for regional renewal?
Acknowledgments
I would like to acknowledge the assistance of my colleagues Christine Owen, Elizabeth

James, David Owen, John Collins and Sue Kilpatrick, in the preparation of this paper.
39
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42
The ‘ethnic experience’ and
4 social research
Vince Marotta
Introduction
In Australia an increasing number of studies have been conducted on the ‘ethnic

experience’. These studies have allowed the ethnic self to speak and give voice to
his/her experience. How one interprets and constructs this voice has taken two
directions. One type of research has essentialised the ethnic experience and constructed
it as universal; the second type of research, which has been predominantly developed by
feminist scholars, questions this essentialism and advocates that the ethnic voice is
complex and multi-dimensional. Although the recent feminist approach to
understanding the ethnic experience has seen some vast improvements in the area of
ethnic research, it still has some limitations. This paper critically engages with the
notion of an ‘ethnic experience’ by highlighting how feminist and essentialist
approaches to the study of the ethnic voice construct this category and how this
construction is affected by the kind of relationship which exists between the researcher
and the participant. However, before we attempt this, the paper will begin by briefly
locating the discussion about the role of experience in social research in its historical
context. The final section of the paper will explore an alternative approach to
conducting research on the ethnic experience. This approach argues that the relationship
between the social scientist and those s/he studies should be an ethical one. The ethnic
subject should be seen as an unique individual whose views should be respected rather
than essentialised or re-constructed to fit into a political or ideological agenda.
The politics of experience: the historical context
Recently in anthropology and sociology there has been an interesting and lively debate
surrounding the insider and outsider perspective towards social and cultural knowledge.
The debate has focused on whether the outsider, in this case the social researcher, can
effectively understand and interpret the experiences of the insider, the participant in the
research. This debate has raised questions concerning the sociology of knowledge
which are not entirely new and have been present within the works of ‘classical’
sociologists and philosophers. In particular the work of Max Weber and Dilthey
explored the issue of experience through the idea of Verstehen
43
(Shields, 1996). In its classical formulation, especially the one adopted by Dilthey,
Verstehen refers to a method of ‘empathetic understanding’ that allows for
intersubjective and intercultural meaning to be established by moving away from one’s
cultural and social position into the Other’s viewpoint. Weber, on the other hand, has a
more historical view of Verstehen which argues that understanding can only be possible
when the historical and social context is taken into account. The difference between
Weber’s and Dilthey’s conception of Verstehen is that Dilthey believes that
understanding is possible when one takes the position of the Other, while Weber argues
that understanding can still be possible if one figuratively stands alongside or amongst
the Other (Ibid: 282). Thus, understanding the insider experience could be possible
through the method of Verstehen.
In the 1970s the American sociologist Robert Merton wrote an article which implicitly
engaged with the issue of Verstehen and anticipated the debate in the 1980s and 1990s
over the politics of identity (Merton, 1972). Merton argues that, in America, knowledge
has been understood as either from an insider or outsider perspective. Merton
summarises the debate between the “insider and outsider doctrine” and suggests that the
outsider can designate a variety of individuals: for example, males, whites, parents,
members of the host society, heterosexuals or abled person. These outsiders cannot
speak for, nor understand the experience of the insider, for example, female, black,
child, members of an ethnic group, homosexuals or disabled persons. The insider
doctrine, according to Merton, maintains that one must be a member of the group in
order to fully understand those on the inside. In contrast, the outsider doctrine asserts
that knowledge of the group can only be attained by an outside observer because s/he is
unprejudiced by group membership. Both the insider and outsider, argues Merton, claim
they have privileged access to the social truth. In conclusion Merton discerns that this
debate is based on the assumption that the insider and outsider, because they come from
different life-worlds, cannot reconcile their differences.
Merton, moreover, believes that there are problems with both the insider and outsider
doctrine. The insider doctrine ignores the increasing differentiation of modern society
which has resulted in individuals having more than one social status. As a consequence
people develop multiple identities and thus they can confront themselves as both
insiders and outsiders (Ibid: 22). Consequently, for Merton, the changing nature of
modern society makes the insider doctrine less plausible. The insider position also
ignores internal differences within the group based on class, gender and sexuality which
may upset the assumption that there is a unified insider perspective. The repercussions
of this, according to Merton, are that one can be an African-American, an insider, but
may be an outsider because of one’s gender or sexuality. In light of these criticisms,
Merton argues that the dichotomy between the insider and outsider doctrine cannot be
sustained. The only way one can obtain the ‘social truth’ is through a ‘third party’
which can use both perspectives, learn from them and synthesise their knowledge. The
group which best epitomises this ‘third party’, and is able to transcend group loyalties,
is the social scientist. The “role of the social scientist concerned with achieving
knowledge about
44
society requires enough detachment and trained capacity to know how to assemble and
assess the evidence without regard for what the analysis seems to imply about the worth
of one’s group” (Ibid: 41). Although Merton insightfully identifies the problems of the
insider and outsider doctrine, he falls into the trap of assuming that there is one position
from which knowledge and truth can be attained. If we accept Merton’s thesis, then
understanding the Other, in our case the ‘ethnic experience’, is not about empathy or
respecting the view of the ethnic self, but it is about re-constructing it. The
insider/ethnic perspective, because it is immersed in its own life-world, can only
hamper rather help the acquisition of knowledge and truth for the social scientist/social
researcher.
Leaving this problem aside, Merton does anticipate the recent controversy over the
category of ‘experience’. Contemporary social scientists, in particular feminists, argue
that binary oppositions not only suppress differences between the dominant outsider and
the subordinate insider, but also hide the differences within these categories. Thus the
‘ethnic experience’ may hide internal differences based on gender, class and sexuality.
Merton, like contemporary feminists does not assume that ‘experience’ refers to a
descriptive category which is singular and unified. If one adopts the descriptive view of
‘experience’ then the recollections of the ethnic self are assumed to be true and
unproblematically reflect the coherent and unique experience of that individual. Social
scientists who conduct research under this premise argue that they are providing a
‘voice’ and a position from which those ethnic individuals can speak. The ‘ethnic voice’
provides a forum where the specificity of an ethnic experience can be articulated and
claim authenticity. Allowing space for the ethnic voice constructs what Gail Lewis calls
a ‘foundational experience’ (Lewis, 1996: 51). ‘Foundational experience’, like Merton’s
‘insider doctrine’, refers to the fact that those individuals who come from the same
social or cultural background have core experiences which can only be understood by
those from the same group. In contrast, another conception of ‘experience’ has been
formulated by Joan Scott. She argues that “what counts as experience is neither self-
evident nor straightforward; it is always contested, always therefore political” (1992:
37). The next section will examine how the ‘ethnic experience’ is political, both in
terms of how Australian scholars have constructed it, and how it is used in their
research on second-generation immigrants.
The essentialist view of the ‘ethnic experience’
Some research on the ethnic experience assumes that it is fixed, stable and universal.
Peter McDonald, the former deputy head of the Australian Institute of Family Studies,
studied ethnic family structures in Australia and links ethnic groups to a set of values
and concludes that,
45
For many of the groups considered, the ethnic group has a masculine conception of
the family as its tradition, whereas Australian families tend to conform to a feminine
conception (McDonald, 1989: 39).
Apart from the obvious generalisations and problematic nature of using notions like
‘masculinity’ and ‘femininity’ to describe family structures, McDonald suggests that
when a family moves from masculine to the feminine the power of men declines and the
status and power of women and children increase. Also, McDonald states that the
“masculine conception of the family in its more extreme form is characterised by
domination of the family over other organisations ... and the general interests of the
family transcend the interests of individual members” (McDonald, 1989: 44). The
feminine conception of the family, however, is marked more by equality, freedom and
individuality. McDonald suggests that, to some extent, Australian family structures
have influenced the structures of Southern European families. He argues that many of
the conventional views of Southern European families no longer hold because “on
balance, it seems that the many competing pressures often lead to a reduction of the
strength of the masculine form of family organisation” (p.44). What is contentious
about McDonald’s analysis, in terms of this paper’s thesis, is that it assumes that there
is such a thing as a clearly defined masculine ethnic family structure whose definitive
shape can be found somewhere in Southern Europe; and that ethnic families in Australia
should be analysed in terms of how far they approximate to this model. Here the
modern ethnic family, and by implication the ethnic experience, is fixed. It includes
certain ‘masculine’ attributes which are being slowly undermined by the ‘feminine’
Australian family structure. It never occurs to McDonald that what he refers to as
‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ may and can co-exist and that it may not be a case of
either/or. He is working within a set of binary oppositions each with its own fixed
identity.
Studies conducted by Jerzy Smolicz reinforce this essentialist approach. He maintains

that Polish and Italian families can be characterised by ‘core values’. These cultures are
collectivist in their primary social relationships and individualistic in their secondary
social relationships. (Smolicz, 1979, 1981; Smolicz & Secombe, 1985). He identifies
these collectivist values as caring, cooperation and a sense of altruism. Smolicz never
alludes to females when he discusses these ethnic families: it is never made quite clear
if these characteristics refer only to males. Once again we find that individuals living in
an Italian or Polish family share certain fixed qualities. In these two examples we see
how the ethnic experience is constructed as unitary and fixed. Both McDonald’s and
Smolicz’s analysis represent and link the ethnic experience to a set of ‘core values’ that
have been ‘objectively’ identified and imply that these ‘core values’ represent an ethnic
identity. For Smolicz and McDonald, the ‘core values’ or ‘masculine’ conception of
ethnic family relationships exist as a given and are ahistorical and universal. If we
follow the logic of those who work within the essentialist paradigm, what characterises
the essences or authentic Italian or Greek in Australia is ‘collectivist’, ‘masculine’ and
‘altruistic’.
46
The feminist approach to the ‘ethnic experience’
Particular feminist scholars have problematicised the very notion of the ‘ethnic
experience’ and have provided more scope for the ethnic voice to be articulated, thus,
challenging the above essentialist representation. Although this work has made some
advances in the research on ethnicity, there are still some problems which need to be
addressed. This section will introduce this more sophisticated approach through an
analysis of studies conducted on second-generation immigrants.
Jan Pettman, in her study of marginalisation in Australia, introduces the category of

experience through her analysis of the ‘politics of voice’.
the politics of voice is crucial. Voices previously unheard politically are in contest
both within and between groups, as they struggle to produce a speaking position.
The struggle is both to overcome silence or marginality, and against stereotypic
representation. (1992: 123).
To give the marginal or ethnic self a ‘voice’ does not mean however that one accepts
that voice as a true representation of one’s experiences. Thus Pettman implicitly
dismisses the ‘foundational’ view of experience and adopts the more radical version by
Scott. Pettman argues that ‘Meaning is constructed by position and relationship, rather
than by what ‘really’ happened. This is not to say that memory is not true or accurate:
rather that it is a reconstruction which speaks to where a person is now, and to the social
setting within which that person now stands’ (p.142). If memory is a reconstruction,
who decides what part of memory is reconstructed and what part is not? And if we give
the marginal/ethnic self a voice, a voice which needs to be reinterpreted by the
researcher because she cannot take memory at face value, then the reinterpreted ‘voice’
may be incomprehensible to the ethnic individual. In other words, the ‘ethnic
experience’ may be interpreted by the researcher in such a way that the experience
which is reconstructed is incomprehensible to the participant. Martyn Hammersley, who
has studied the ethnographic method in some detail, argues that “it is very rare for
qualitative research to restrict itself to documenting the native point of view ... Even
those approaches that restrict the research focus to participants’ perspectives do not
simply reproduce these, but seek to analyse their structure and/or production in ways
that are likely to be alien to the people studied” (Hammersley, 1992: 165). In the above
work, Pettman has emphasised a greater role for the marginal voice, but this, implies
Pettman, does not mean that we take it at face value. The voice of the ethnic subject
needs to be balanced with a more ‘objective’ understanding of that experience.
Gill Bottomley has been at the forefront of introducing both the subjective and objective
approach to the study of ethnicity. Social research on second-generation immigrants,
argues Bottomley, needs to adopt a methodology which includes both a subjective and
objective account of the ethnic experience. Bottomley, following the French sociologist
Pierre Bourdieu,
47
concludes that “a subjectivism that privileges lived experience obscures the fact that the
‘truth of the social interaction is never entirely in the interaction as observed’” (1991:
96). Thus, although Bottomley wants to acknowledge the voice of the second-
generation immigrant, this cannot be taken on its own because what the subjects say can
only be fully understood through particular objective categories like gender, class,
ethnicity and culture and their interconnectedness.
The subjects of my studies and those of Isaacs, Strintzos and Tsolidis offered their
own views, which the authors have attempted to locate in a more general framework
that takes account of ethnic, gender and class perspectives, as well as the cultural
concomitants of all three (Ibid: 102).
In other words, the implication here is that social research which solely confines itself
to describing the ethnic voice may not tells us the whole story. It is only by
incorporating categories like gender, class, ethnicity and culture that one can highlight
the ‘real’ meaning of the subjectivist account. At times when the subjectivist voice does
not correspond with the objectivist account the latter takes precedence.
Class, status aspirations and gender were at least as important as ethnicity in the
construction of these identities, but were less clearly articulated (1992: 131).
The fact that class and gender were ‘less clearly articulated’ by the participants may be
a signal for some social researchers that these have less explanatory value in
understanding the ‘ethnic experience’. Rather than admit this Bottomley justifies their
inclusion by stating that these were not the focus of her earlier research on second-
generation Greek immigrants. This may be true, but why force one’s theoretical
categories onto the data if the participants in the study are not explicitly expressing
issues which deal with class and gender identities? If one of the aims of Bottomley’s
work is to provide a subjective account why isn’t she listening to her subjects?
In another study, Bottomley (1992) reiterates her argument that there is an interplay
between the subjective and objective, however, by the last chapter her perspective
becomes ‘mostly structural’. The structural account is well illustrated by the following
statements.
the growth of outwork is symptomatic of the various structured limitations on the

lives on women (1992: 154).
It is clear that economic conditions structure family and social relations (Ibid: 155).
We can see therefore that public and private spheres are by no means separate,
especially for people whose social space is so predetermined by economic and
political structures (Ibid: 156).
For the purposes of this chapter, it is enough to note that the lives of migrants have
been significantly formed by government policy (Ibid).
[emphasis added]
48
Bottomley does attempt to balance this structuralist account by emphasising the

resistance displayed by the ethnic self. This resistance is especially evident through the
establishment of formal ethnic organisations and feminist initiatives. She concludes that
“the most effective resistance to these ‘three structured unfreedoms’ (class, gender and
ethnicity) can come from those who have experience of those three areas of definition
and who can appreciate the interrelation between the three” (Ibid: 165).
Bottomley’s attempt to balance an objective with a subjective account is, by the end of
her text, tilted towards the objective. What develops is an over-determined view of the
individual. Migrants seem to face so many obstacles that their ability and willingness to
resist appears futile. Furthermore, although Bottomley argues that there is a need to
perceive “migrants as agents, who act upon, adapt and resist structured circumstances”
(Ibid: 17), she implies that not everyone can resist the structures that condition their
lives; some are better able to resist because of their knowledge of the interrelationship
between the ‘three structured unfreedoms’. Human agency is dependent on a particular
kind of knowledge which may only be available to a restricted few.
Palotta-Chiarolli and Skrbis (1994), drawing on Bottomley’s idea that people are
socially constructed and construct themselves explore “the lived experiences of tension
faced by some second generation individuals, tensions created not only by the need to
negotiate the ethnic community’s gender and sexual codes but also the need to negotiate
the host society’s gender and sexual codes” (Ibid: 260). The authors illustrate how
second-generation migrants are influenced by the host and ethnic community to
conform to their norms and myths of marriage, the family and sexuality. They also
examine how ethnic youth resist these norms and myths. However, what is of concern is
how these scholars interpret the resistance and acceptance exhibited by the second-
generation. The study draws on an earlier research conducted by Pallotta-Chiarolli
(1990) on 16-year old Italian girls and argue that there was a high level of active
acceptance of parental and community values on abortion, pornography, prostitution
and marital non-monogamy. Pallotta-Chiarolli and Skrbis conclude that this conformity
and lack of agency can be related to the participants’ lack of ‘life experience’.
Both English-speaking background and non-English speaking background

individuals may have very little life experience that might have challenged those
values or raised issues of contradictions and complexity (Pallotta-Chiarolli &
Skrbis, 1994: 268).
This may be true, but a confusion arises within the article when the authors use the
same study to provide evidence for the existence of ‘an active personal agency’.
Pallotta-Chiarolli and Skrbis provide examples where the 16-year old Italo-Australian
girls “now openly resist many of their parents’ values such as having a traditional
Italian wedding and marrying someone from an Italian background” (1994: 269). It is
not quite clear whether these are the same girls with ‘little life experiences’. The voice
of the ethnic subject and its ability to resist depends on a vague notion of ‘life
experience’. What does having little ‘life experience’ actually mean? What kind of life
49
experience should one have in order for resistance to occur? Is all resistance good and
non-resistance bad? Does more life experience necessarily lead to empowerment?
Empowerment may depend as much on resources as on ‘life experience’. These
questions, which are never explicitly addressed, are important if one wants to take the
authors’ conclusions seriously. The authors seem to privilege one particular ‘ethnic
experience’ over another because the ethnic voice of acceptance is constructed as if it is
confused and unenlightened.
The final study I want to examine is one conducted by Ellie Vasta (1994). She is
interested in comparing how older and younger second-generation migrants negotiate
their ethnic identity. I want to focus on what Vasta has to say about the older second-
generation because it is here that we find further evidence that how one conducts social
research influences the construction of an ‘ethnic experience’. The ethnic experience of
the older second-generation, according to Vasta, was influenced by the assimilationist
policies of the 1970s. While the adult immigrants resisted assimilation, “their children
were far more vulnerable to the dominant cultural and ideological practices of the day”
(1994: 24). The effect of the assimilationist ideology, maintains Vasta, is that the
problem is seen to lie with the ethnic individual and their cultures “rather than in the
racism arising out of the interests, attitudes and practices of the dominant majority”
(Ibid). As a result, the children of adult migrants tend to perceive the demands by their
parents to conform to their native cultural traditions and practices as authoritarian
behaviour.
Vasta seems to imply that the voice of the older second-generation cannot be taken at
face value because it hides ideological manipulation by the dominant group. In other
words, although the older second-generation believe that their parents were over-
protective and authoritarian, this experience could be interpreted as a state of ‘false
consciousness’. The children blame their parents, but in ‘reality’ it is the ideology of the
‘dominant majority’ which is misrepresenting and obscuring their views. The
‘foundational experience’ of this second-generation cannot be trusted and the researcher
thus takes up a privileged position, particularly through her location in a more
ideologically correct position. Annie Opie (1992), in an exploration of feminist
qualitative research, argues that the feminist approach opens issues and themes which
have previously been hidden, but can also “appropriate the data to the researchers’
interest” so that other issues and themes which challenge that approach are ignored or
silenced. In conclusion Opie states that in some cases social researchers imply that “the
participant’s viewpoint cannot be completely relied on and that further external
evidence must be sought, which one assumes will offer a higher degree of reliability”
(Ibid: 66). Vasta cannot trust the ‘ethnic experience’ as re-told by the older second-
generation because it is distorted by the ideology of assimilation. Consequently, the
voice of the ethnic self needs to be supplemented and even replaced, in this case, by the
voice of the researcher. Neither the insider (older second-generation) nor the outsider
(dominant majority) perspective can be trusted because the former is immersed in a
‘false consciousness’, while the latter is repressive. Vasta unintentionally
50
positions herself as Merton’s objective ‘third party’ who can see beyond the insider and
outsider perspective and reveal the ‘real’ ethnic experience undistorted by the ideology
of assimilation.
The examination of the essentialist studies on ethnicity have shown how social
researchers have constructed the ethnic experience as unitary and universal. These
studies have, to some extent, misrepresented the ethnic experience. Recent feminist
work has provided a sophisticated response to this essentialist position, but as I have
argued there are still some limitations within this second approach. In their
interpretations of the ethnic experience they have over-emphasised the objective factors
(Bottomley), privileged the voice of resistance over acceptance (Pallatto-Chiarolli &
Skrbis) and have implied that in some cases the ethnic voice is somewhat distorted
(Vasta). Consequently, the relationship between the researcher (Self) and the participant
(Other) has been an unequal one. This inequality arises because these researchers either
explicitly or implicitly place themselves in that ‘third place’ where they have access to
knowledge not available to the insiders or outsiders. Although we need to be wary of
uncritically accepting the category of experience as ‘foundational’, this does not mean
we stop respecting our informants’ own constructions of their identity and experiences
when they are politically, socially and ideological unacceptable to the researcher
(Zavella, 1993: 71). A way of minimising this potential is to re-think the relationship
between the researcher and the informant so that a more ethical relationship develops.
Conclusion: a possible alternative
The work by the social theorist Zygmunt Bauman may help us to explore the kind of
ethics that should be the basis of social research. Bauman argues that “responsibility is
the essential, primary and fundamental structure of subjectivity” (Bauman, 1989: 183).
It is only by being responsible that we constitute ourselves as ethical subjects. As
Bauman argues, “Morality is before ontology, for is before with” (Bauman, 1993: 71).
It is only being-for the Other that allows the uniqueness of the Other to be protected,
whereas when the interaction is being-with the meeting is fragmentary and precarious
and, according to Bauman, is the “meeting of incomplete and deficient selves”
(Bauman, 1995: 50). If the relationship between researcher (self) and participant (Other)
should be one where the researcher is for the Other, then research should be about
respecting the informant as an autonomous individual whose voice is accepted on equal
grounds. One needs to be responsible in making sure that the relationship never
becomes one in which the ‘uniqueness of the Other’ (the participant in the research) is
undermined. Rather than using the ‘ethnic experience’ as a means to an end, for
example, to prove the subjective/objective nature of this experience or to illustrate how
it is ideologically constructed, the ‘ethnic voice’ should be respected as a unique voice
and an end in itself. Rob Shields has explored the ethical relationship between
researcher and respondent and argues that it involves a “mutuality in the making of
meaning” (1996: 289). He calls the
51
ethical relation a ‘dialogic encounter’ where the researcher and participant do not merge
or mix. Each retains their identity and the encounter is mutually enriching (Ibid: 288).
This does not mean that this encounter is not without its problems and difficulties
because, as Bauman argues, any relationship which is ethical is fraught with
ambivalence. To act ethically is characterised by ambivalence because to be responsible
for another may lead to domination/paternalism which undermines the autonomy of the
other, while tolerance can lead to indifference. Bauman concludes that “no act, no
matter how noble and unselfish and beneficial for some, can be truly insured against
hurting those who find themselves, inadvertently, on its receiving end” (1989: 181).
Consequently, an ethical relation between the researcher and participant cannot give
one any guarantees. In researching the ethnic experience social scientists should move
away from adopting the insider, outsider or ‘Third Party’ position and adopt an ethical
stance which may be ambivalent, but at least does not treat the Other as a means to an
end.
52
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‘Chicana’ informants’. Frontiers XIII(3): 53-76.
54
A cross-national exploration into
5 the content and construct validity

of social work task items,
their clusters and factors
Bruce Lagay and Allan Borowski
Introduction
This paper presents an approach to exploring the validity of a measurement instrument

through the detailed comparison of results obtained from its application in two different
countries. The Job Analysis Questionnaire, developed in the United States by the
National Association of Social Workers, and used in several national surveys of social
workers there, is compared with results obtained here in a survey of 570 Victorian
social workers.
The interest in undertaking such a comparison is, of course, substantive as well as

methodological. Social work in Australia, while having its own distinctive character,
has been substantially influenced by both American and British social work. An
empirical examination of Australian and American social work practice may contribute
to identifying both the uniqueness of practice in each of the cultures as well as the
commonalities that are to be expected if any claim to similarity is to be made. The
methodological interest lies in an examination of just how well the Job Analysis
Questionnaire, developed within the U. S. context, performs in a similar, though
different, culture.
The implications of this study are similar to those that have motivated all of the
preceding studies from which its data are drawn. Task analysis studies, as these studies
are commonly called, are undertaken to aid in the empirical description of work so that
occupational titles can be distinguished and appropriate educational qualifications
identified both for employment selection and the design of education and training
curricula. Efforts to validate claims for the legal protection of professional title and
professional certification have also employed task analysis studies.
Both Borowski (1976) and Lagay (Lagay, Tapper and Simpson, 1977) and their
students (Green, 1981; Myers, 1981; Klein, 1987; Haywood, 1990) have been working
for a number of years in Australia and the United States on studies employing task
analysis to better understand the nature of social work practice in various settings as
well as to shape education and training
55
for practice. Mapping Social Work in Victoria, the Australian Research Council-funded
study from which the data examined in this article are drawn, was stimulated by a desire
to provide an empirical basis for a more informed debate within Australia concerning
the structure and content of professional education, the public service classification of
social work positions and the nature of practice competence.
Data sources
The study’s Australian data are drawn from a 1991 survey of all members of the
Victoria state branch of the Australian Association of Social Workers. Some 570
useable responses were obtained from a membership of 734, representing a 78 percent
response rate. The American data were drawn from three major studies of the National
Association of Social Workers: the 1983 Academy of Certified Social Workers Study
(N=5,397), the 1985 Occupational Social Work Study (N=499), and the 1987 BSW
Practitioner Study (N=1363). The combining of these three samples to produce a
composite sample of 7,000 is described in detail in Teare and Sheafor’s Practice-
Sensitive Social Work Education: An Empirical Analysis of Social Work Practice and
Practitioners (1995).
A demographic comparison of the Australian and American samples appears in Table 1.

Teare and Sheafor characterise the American sample as “a representative,
comprehensive, cross section of contemporary social work practitioners” (Teare &
Sheafor, 1995: 13). The Australian and American samples are alike with respect to the
age of their respondents and their length of social work experience. The samples differ
most in regard to gender distribution, professional qualifications and years in current
position. There are almost twice as many men social workers in the American sample
(30.8%) than in the Australian sample (17.2%). There is a convergence of evidence
(Martin and Healy, 1993; Robb, 1996) to suggest that approximately 25 percent of
Australian social workers are male. It is reasonable, therefore, to view the Australian
workers studied here as under-representative of males, but in no case would one expect
as high a proportion of males in the Australian group as in the American sample. A
relevant point in interpreting these figures, however, is that the American sample
excluded part-time workers, while 27 percent of the Australian workers in this study
were part-time and 96 percent of these were women.
The Bachelor of Social Work degree in Australia is both the entry level and terminal
professional social work qualification. It is a second tertiary degree, usually earned
following an initial Bachelor of Arts. It is a two year intensive program, the curriculum
of which is quite like that of C.S.W.E. accredited M.S.W. programs in the U.S.,
including human behaviour and social environment, social policy, organisational and
legal contexts of practice, research methods and social work methods subjects as well as
a 70-day field practicum in each of the years. There is a strong emphasis on a generalist
approach to practice in both years of the course.
56
Both Masters and Ph.D. degrees in social work have traditionally been ‘by research,’
that is, thesis alone, and only in the past five years have ‘Masters by Coursework’ been
introduced. It is strongly arguable that the 92 percent of B.S.W. degree holders in the
Australian sample are, professionally, functionally equivalent to the 75 percent M.S.W.
degree holders in the American sample. M.S.W. degree holders from C.S.W.E.-
accredited programs in the U.S. are usually recognised as holding Australian B.S.W.
equivalence by the Australian federal government’s National Office of Overseas Skill
Recognition.
While total professional social work experience is similar for the Australian and
American respondents (means of 10.7 and 12.2 years, and identical medians of 9.0
years), their years in current position vary considerably. Mean job occupancy is more
than twice as great for Americans (2.6 v 6.1 years), with median occupancy twice as
long (2 v 4 years). Though we have no longitudinal data to support it, it is our
impression that, at least at the time the data was collected in Australia (1991), job
mobility was greater than it is now, as well as being typically greater than it is in the
USA.
The samples vary in comparability on employment setting and employment function.

Seventy percent of the Australian sample as compared to 66 percent of the American
sample is employed in the first three settings of social services (38% v 30%), hospitals
(21% v 19%) and outpatient facilities (11% v 17%). While both samples record almost
the same proportion of self-employed (6.7% v 6.8%), there is much less clinical private
practice among Australian social workers, with most of the self-employed being
trainers, researchers and program and policy consultants. In the remaining smaller
categories of employment settings, Australians tend toward greater employment by
governmental bodies (Social Security and other federal and state government agencies –
12.1% v 0%), while Americans were relatively more concentrated in educational
settings (11.6% v 4.3%).
More Australians identify themselves to be functioning in direct practice roles than

Americans (67% v 58%), with more Americans in supervisory, management and
education/training roles (39% v 23%). Australians also identify themselves as engaged
in combinations of direct and indirect practice (5.6%), as well as more likely to be
functioning in policy/planning and consultation roles than do their American
counterparts (5.1% v 3%).
It is not to be expected that these two samples would present as identical. They reflect
the differences between the two nations’ approaches to the structuring of both
professional education and the delivery of social services. Given these national
structural differences, there are no surprises in the above profiles. We would argue for
the Australian sample, as Teare and Sheafor have for their American sample, that we
have a broadly representative group of contemporary professional social workers.
57
Table 1: Demographics of samples
Australian American
(n=570) (n=7000)
Gender
Female 82.8% 65.8%
Male 17.2% 30.8%
Age
Mean 41.4 Yrs 41.8 Yrs
Median 42.0 Yrs 39.0 Yrs
Highest Professional Degree
BSW 91.6% 20.7%
MSW 6.7% 75.3%
PhD -- 3.9%
Social Work Experience
Years in Current Position
Employment Setting
Social Services 37.7% 30.1%
Hospital 21.1% 19.3%
Outpatient Facility 10.7% 16.7%
Self Employed 6.7% 6.8%
Social Security 6.3% --
Primary/Secondary Ed. 3.2% 6.0%
Institution 2.3% 3.8%
Other Federal Govt. 3.2% --
Nursing Home 1.6% 3.0%
Group Home 1.4% 2.5%
Other State Govt. 2.6% --
Tertiary Education 1.1% 5.6%
Court/Criminal Justice 0.9% 2.6%
Membership Organisations -- 1.3%
Non-Social Service Orgs. 1.1% --
Employment Function
Direct Service 66.5% 57.9%
Supervision 5.4% 9.1%
Management 17.4% 23.4%
Policy/Planning 2.5% 1.2%
Consultation 2.6% 1.8%
Education/Training -- 6.0%
Combinations of above 5.6% --
Percentages may not total to 100% because of missing values on some variables.
58
The task data and its analysis
The development of the Job Analysis Questionnaire (JAQ), employed by the Australian
and American studies is described in detail in Teare and Sheafor and summarised by
them as:
135 task statements which respondents, using a five-point scale, rated ‘how often’
they performed each task and ‘how important ‘ it was to their job. A personal
history section was included so that relevant demographic data about the respondent
could be obtained. (Teare & Sheafor, 1995: 11)
A task statement consists of both an action and an objective, as the following examples
reflect.
Talk with individuals and/or their relatives about problems in order to reassure,
provide support, or reduce anxiety.
Clarify job duties, roles, work assignments for supervisees (staff, students,
volunteers) in order to increase individual or group effectiveness.
There were six instances each where substantial changes were made to task statements
in the N.A.S.W. questionnaire and to the response categories in the demographic
questions in order to adapt the instrument to the Australian context. This included
collapsing two American tasks into one Australian task, resulting in a total set of 134
tasks on the Australian instrument.
The Australian data were then analysed by the same statistical procedures as the
American data (Teare & Sheafor, 1995), using a hierarchical cluster analysis after Ward
(SPSS-X, 1988), followed eventually by a principal components factor analysis of the
clusters. All computational procedures were run via the Statistical Package for the
Social Sciences (SPSS-X, 1988).
The Australian data yielded 15 task clusters, whereas the American data had produced
18 task clusters. When the 15 Australian clusters were factor analysed, two factors
reflecting a set of Direct Service Task Clusters and a set of Indirect Service Task
Clusters were uncovered. The American data produced five factors: (1) a Client Change
Factor, (2) a Client Situation Change Factor, (3) a Professional Competence
Development Factor, (4) an Organisation/Unit Operation Factor, and (5) a Resource/
Service Change Factor.
The remainder of this article focuses on examining the relationship between what is
essentially the same set of tasks reflected differently by Australian and American
practitioners thus portraying their hypothetically distinctive practices of social work. It
is these two groups of practitioners, not the two pairs of researchers, whose patterned
responses to ‘how often’ they engaged in a common set of tasks produced the clusters
and factors to be examined. The researchers simply applied standard data reduction,
classification and
59
association-revealing techniques to uncover the several-layered pattern of task

relationships produced by the practitioners to describe their practice.
Readers are invited to explore with the authors the task content of clusters and factors,
the relationships among clusters, between clusters and factors, and the variations
between the Australian and American data sets, and to judge how validly they think
cluster and factor content reflects the constructs identified. Ultimately construct validity
turns on how well a measure performs within a system of theoretical relationships
(Nunnally, 1967; Rubin & Babbie, 1989).
Findings
Limitations of space require a somewhat intensive presentation of the two sets of

findings in Tables 2a and 2b. The column labels of Table 2a present the names given to
the six task clusters comprising the Direct Service Factor for Australian social workers,
and to a cluster entitled Professional Development which was loaded on both the Direct
and the Indirect Service Factors (.49 and .46 respectively). The row labels in Table 2a
provide eight of the 18 cluster titles from the American sample. The Roman numerals
identify on which of the five factors reported above a cluster is loaded; thus two of the
American clusters in Table 2a are multifactorially complex. Finally, both column and
row labels report the mean Likert scale score for the frequency with which a cluster of
tasks was performed and a Cronbach’s Alpha for the cluster task ‘items’.
Table 2b is constructed in a similar fashion and presents the eight clusters comprising
the Indirect Service Factor for Australian social workers. One of the eight clusters,
Access Assurance is multifactorially complex, loading on the Indirect Service Factor at
.63 and the Direct Service Factor at .51. The row labels again provide the cluster names
for the remaining 10 American clusters. Mean cluster scores and Alphas are also
displayed.
The last row and column in each Table display the total number of tasks comprising
each cluster. Adding the final row figures across both tables will produce the total of
134 tasks which make up the Australian data, while adding the final column figures
across both tables will produce the total of 131 tasks comprising the American data.
(Teare & Sheafor had to drop four of the 135 tasks on the Job Analysis Questionnaire in
order to maximise comparability of the tasks across their four subsamples.)
It should be noted that the numbers within each column or row of the tables do not
always sum to the figure in the last column or row because Americans in five instances
and Australians in three instances had one, two or three tasks from a cluster of theirs in
one table residing in a cluster of the other country’s on the adjacent table.
60
TABLE 2a HERE
61
Table 2b HERE
62
Examining these two tables reveals considerable similarity in task cluster structures
despite possible initial impressions of dissimilarity. Several patterns of relationship
between Australian and American task clusters can be observed in the tables.
The first pattern is a simple congruence between Australian and American clusters.
Examples of this pattern occur in Table 2a with Interpersonal Helping (4 out of 5
Australian tasks are the same as the American tasks for a 90% agreement), and with
Professional Development (6 tasks from a base of 8 Australian tasks and 7 American
tasks are the same for an 80% agreement). Figure 1 displays the synoptic phrases1
reflecting the tasks that both Australian and American clusters agree upon.
Figure 1: ‘Congruent’ clusters
Interpersonal helping Professional development Delivery system knowledge

cluster cluster development and access
assurance clusters
• Discuss options • Evaluate practice for quality • Keep up to date re area
• Encourage insight • Improve job knowledge and services
• Reassure, provide support skills • Develop cooperative agency
• Demonstrate understanding • Serving clients best interest? arrangements
• Read professional literature • Know government regs
• Set workload priorities • Be acquainted with service
• Consult developmentally areas
with co-workers • Respond to inquiries
1
The following four complete Interpersonal Helping tasks statements demonstrate the manner in which task
statements have been reduced to synoptic phrases.
Talk with individuals and/or relatives about problems in order to reassure, provide support, or reduce
anxiety.
Express and demonstrate an understanding of peoples’ points of view, feelings, and needs in order to
establish open and trusting relationships.
Discuss options with individuals in order to help them understand choices and/or resolve a particular
problem.
Encourage and help people to discuss their points of view, feelings, and needs in order to increase their
insight into the reasons for their actions.
63
The same sort of pattern also occurs in Table 2b between Access Assurance and
Delivery System Knowledge Development (5 tasks from a base of 8 Australian tasks
and 7 American tasks are the same for a 67% agreement). The difference in this latter
instance is that while the cluster content is considerably overlapping (67%), the
construct has been differently interpreted within the Australian context as not just
developing knowledge about the delivery system, but rather knowledge to assure client
access. The additional tasks that each of the two national samples placed in its
respective cluster sheds light on the differing interpretation and labelling in the two
countries. The three additional tasks the Australian workers associated with the five
listed above were: 1. ‘Assure clients’ rights are protected,’ which American workers
placed in their Risk Assessment & Transition cluster; 2. ‘Explain/interpret one’s
organisation,’ which Americans placed in their Professional Development cluster; and
3. ‘Inform about access/equity/participation/rights to advance social justice,’ which was
the one Australian task added to the N.A.S.W. task instrument. On the other hand, the
American Delivery System Knowledge Development cluster included two tasks not in
the Australian Access Assurance cluster; they were: 1. ‘Keep up with organisation
policies and procedures,’ and 2. ‘Prepare statistical reports,’ both of which the
Australian workers included in their Professional Development cluster. These two
respective subsets of tasks, when viewed as qualifiers of the common core of shared
tasks, identify different emphases in the core which are reflected in the different cluster
labels. It is noteworthy that the Professional Development cluster is loaded on both the
direct (.46) and indirect (.49) service factors of the Australian data and sits between
Client Centred Activities and Delivery System Centred Activities in the American
sample. The Australian Access Assurance cluster also spans direct (.51) and indirect
(.63) service factors while its American analog Delivery System Knowledge
Development spans both Practitioner Centred and Delivery Centred Activities in the
American data.
A second basic pattern of relationship between Australian and American clusters occurs
in both Tables 2a and b where Australian clusters consist of tasks that are distributed
over two American clusters. In Table 2a the Australian cluster Assessment and
Intervention is the combination of tasks of two American clusters Individual & Family
Treatment and Risk Assessment & Transition Management, and in Table 2b the
Australian cluster Instruction is made up of tasks in the American clusters of Instruction
and Group Work. Figure 2 presents the tasks involved in what, from the perspective of
the Australian data, are ‘combined’ clusters.
The differentiated American clusters might result from a more specialised practice
approach in the United States, contrasted with the generalist approach taken in
Australia. The splitting off of three tasks in each of the two examples above might also
reflect the refinement that is permitted to emerge through larger samples.
64
Figure 2: ‘Combined’ clusters
American Clusters Australian Clusters

Assessment & Intervention Instruction
Individual & Family Treatment • Improve functioning &
adjustment
• Strengthen family as a unit
• Confront unacceptable
behaviour
Risk Assessment and Transition • Determine counselling need
Management • Gain cooperation of hostile
clients
• Determine if emergency
Prepare clients for a move
• Prepare for service
termination
• Mediate a dispute
Instruction • Plan a training activity
• Train in a group
• Evaluate learning objectives
Group Work • Teach how groups work
• Improve group functioning
• Teach communication skills
• Teach problem solving
• Clarify interdisciplinary roles
It is noteworthy with regard to speculation on the effects of sample size, that in addition
to the above two examples, there are three instances where the tasks that comprise fairly
small and specialised American clusters constitute encompassing Australian clusters.
This phenomenon occurs with:
1. the three-task American cluster Protective Services, which falls into the larger (12
task) Australian Service Specific Interventions cluster;
2. with the three-task American cluster Dispute Resolution, which falls in the larger (13
task) Australian Organisational Management cluster; and
3. with the four-task American cluster Staff Information & Exchange that falls on the
larger (11 task) Australian Program Supervision cluster.
This phenomenon might be called ‘cluster bundling,’ a topic to which we return at the
end of this section.
Another pattern, a linking or chaining of clusters, also occurs in both Tables 2a and b.
In Table 2a, all six tasks of the Australian Case Planning cluster also reside in the
American cluster Case Planning and Maintenance. However, Case Planning and
Maintenance includes four additional tasks that comprise more than half the tasks in the
Australian Intake & Referral
65
cluster. Intake & Referral in turn includes three tasks that comprise half of the
American Service Connection cluster, the other half of which resides in the Australian
Service Specific Interventions cluster. Figure 3 displays the tasks comprising these
clusters.
The middle column of Figure 3 presents a synoptic rendering of the seven tasks
comprising the Australian cluster, Intake & Referral. The left column presents six of the
eleven tasks in the American cluster Case Planning & Maintenance; four of the
remaining five tasks in this American cluster are the first four tasks of the Australian
cluster Intake & Referral. (The eleventh task in this American cluster, Discuss proposed
actions to ensure understanding, is associated with the Australian cluster, Interpersonal
Helping.) The right column contains three of the six tasks associated with the American
cluster Service Connection; the latter’s remaining three tasks are listed below the line of
the middle column. A perusal of the tasks associated with the Australian and American
clusters does not reveal any logical or theoretical inconsistency in their varied
placement, but simply a slightly different perspective.
Figure 3: ‘Linked’ direct service clusters
Australian Case Planning Australian Intake & American Service

and American Case Referral Connection
Planning & Maintenance
• Review records before • Refer to appropriate services
contact • Promote service use
• Consult on a case • Obtain information for intake
• Arrive at a service plan • Ensure rights are protected
• Evaluate progress, alter plan
• Co-ordinate for service effect
• Document case actions
• Determine eligibility • Provide transport to service
• Follow-up on referrals • Remind of appointments
• Advocate for eligibility • Investigate providers for
suitability
Australian cluster tasks are presented in the middle column; American cluster tasks in the two rows.
A lengthier chain of cluster linkages occurs in Table 2b. The Australian cluster, Staff
Supervision, consists of nine tasks, six of which are included in the American cluster,
Staff Supervision, with the remaining three in the American cluster, Staff Deployment.
However the American cluster, Staff Supervision, also includes three tasks from the
Australian cluster, Program
66
Supervision; and the American cluster Staff Deployment includes three additional tasks
from the Australian cluster, Financial Management. The linkages go on. The Australian
cluster, Financial Management, consists of eight tasks, the three just mentioned, and
five others located in the American cluster, Organisational Maintenance. Organisational
Maintenance is the largest of the American clusters comprising 16 tasks, the five tasks
just identified, six tasks shared with the Australian cluster, Facilities Management, and
four tasks shared with the Australian cluster, Organisational Management. Finally the
Australian cluster, Facilities Management, shares three of its additional tasks with the
American cluster, Research/Policy Development, which in turn shares three tasks with
the Australian cluster, Organisational Management. Figure 4 presents part of this chain.
Figure 4: ‘Linked’ indirect service clusters
American Staff Supervision Australian Staff Supervision American Staff Deployment

• Familiarise staff with • Discuss employee
procedures performance
• Provide on-the-job training • Clarify jobs, roles,
• Instruct supervisees assignments
• Evaluate job performance
• Ensure proper documentation
• Ensure practice standards
• Go over policies, procedures
with staff
• Recruit/screen staff • Establish staffing

• Schedule/coordinate work requirements
hours • Maintain time and pay
• Assign case/work loads records
• Ensure proper personnel
actions
Australian cluster tasks are presented in the middle column; American cluster tasks in the two rows.
Examination of the juxtaposed cluster items in Figures 3 and 4 reveals convincing

evidence of the content validity of each of the clusters, and the defensibility of
interpreting several distinct cluster constructs from the different arrangements of the
same tasks.
The final pattern of cluster relationships is that of the previously identified cluster
bundles. There are three cluster bundles, one in Table 2a and two in Table 2b. In Table
2a the Australian Service Specific Interventions cluster bundles together tasks in all or
portions of three American clusters: Service Connection, Protective Services and
Tangible Service Provision. In this regard it is functionally equivalent to Teare and
Sheafor’s Client Situation Change Factor which also ‘bundles’ these three clusters
together. In fact, the
67
cluster ‘linkages’ identified by juxtaposing the Australian and American cluster sets
reproduce the American Client Change and Client Situation Change factor structure.
Figure 5 displays the twelve Service Specific Intervention tasks broken into three
subsets corresponding to the three American clusters it bundles together. Also listed in
Figure 5 are the six tasks in the Australian cluster Concrete Direct Services. A major
distinction between these six tasks and the five Service Specific Intervention tasks in
the adjacent column is their different rates of performance by respondents. The
Concrete Direct Service tasks are performed by only 3.7 percent of respondents
Frequently or Almost Always, whereas the Service Specific Interventions are performed
that often by 12 percent of respondents.
Figure 5: The direct service cluster ‘bundle’
Australian Clusters
American Clusters Service Specific Interventions Concrete Direct Services
Service Connection Cluster* • Provide transport to service
• Remind of appointments
• Investigate providers for
suitability
Protective Services Cluster • Determine physical,
psychological abuse, neglect
• Determine sexual abuse
• Start legal process to protect
rights
• Testify in court
Tangible Service Provision • Assess living arrangements • Teach personal finance
Cluster • Facilitate support for change • Instruct in homemaking
• Locate people in need skills
• Orient to your community • Assist in establishing
• Problem solve re service delivery eligibility
• Provide leisure activities
• Help people find jobs
• Locate missing persons
* The complete Service Connection Cluster is displayed in Figure 3.
In Table 2b, there are two cluster bundles, the Australian Program Supervision cluster
which includes tasks from the American clusters: Staff Information and Exchange, Staff
Supervision, and Program Development; and the Australian Organisational
Management cluster which ties together tasks from four American clusters: Program
Development, Dispute Resolution, Organisational Maintenance, and Research/Policy
Development. The two bundles themselves are linked via the 15 tasks that constitute the
American cluster, Program Development.
68
Figure 6 presents both of the indirect service bundles and the linkages between them.
Figure 7 displays the tasks shared by the three Australian management clusters and the
two American clusters, Organisational Maintenance and Research/Policy Development.
It is included to provide a complete listing of tasks in the lower right corner of Table 2b.
Figure 6: The indirect service cluster ‘bundles’
Australian Clusters
Program Supervision Program Development Organisational
Management
• Conduct an agency meeting

• Guide staff re job functioning
• Inform staff re rights American Staff Information
protection Exchange Cluster
• Assist group to make
decision
• Familiarise staff with

procedures American Staff Supervision
• Provide on-the-job training Cluster*
• Instruct supervisees
• Write SOP’s • Develop program

• Propose an agency change • Gather effectiveness data American Organisational
• Persuade decision makers • Market services Management Cluster
• Inform public re programs • Design a program
• Do needs analysis
• Obtain needs data
• Assess effectiveness • Encourage
• Prepare data volunteers/donations
• Plan a new service • Produce publicity
• Advocate for staff
American Dispute Resolution • Negotiate to reduce litigation
Cluster • Obtain guidance re staff
• Mediate to avoid strikes

American Organisational • Correct supervisory
Maintenance Cluster* behaviours
• Promote effective work
habits
• Compile costing data
• Present/publish findings
American Research/Policy • Survey needs/satisfactions
Development Cluster* • Technically support self-help
groups
* The complete Staff Supervision Cluster is displayed in Figure 4. Complete Organisational Maintenance and
Research/Policy Development Clusters are presented in Figure 7.
69
There is not the clear paralleling of the American factor structure by Australian cluster
‘bundles’ in Table 2b that there was in Table 2a. It is concluded that less frequently
performed indirect service tasks are not as readily differentiated. Nevertheless, from the
perspective of the Australian data, Program Supervision, Program Development, Staff
Supervision and Organisational Management are viewed as encompassing the core
indirect service tasks, and these appear to be concentrated on the American
Organisational/Unit Operation Factor.
Figure 7: American task clusters sharing tasks with the

Australian management task clusters
Australian Clusters
American Organisational Resource Management Facilities

Clusters Management* Management
Staff Deployment* • Establish staffing
requirements
• Maintain
time/payrecords
• Ensure proper
personnel actions
Organisational • Mediate to avoid • Budget programs • Document repair

Maintenance strikes • Balance accounts need
• Correct supervisory • Pay vendors • Ensure safe
behaviours • Requisition supplies operation
• Promote effective • Ensure acceptable • Assess building
work habits accounting procedures security
• Compile costing data • Teach personnel
evaluations
• Ensure supplies
• Ensure contract
compliance
Research Policy • Present/publish • Campaign for
Development findings change
• Survey • Provide legislative
needs/satisfactions testimony
• Technically support • Conduct
self-help-groups stress/boredom
workshops
* The complete Staff Deployment Cluster is displayed in Figure 4. The complete Organisational Management Cluster
is displayed in Figure 6.
While in all other instances the position has been taken that variations in task content
among Australian and American clusters represent arguable variations in American and
Australian practice, such a position cannot be sustained with regard to the three tasks at
the end of the Australian Facilities Management cluster. The first two tasks are clearly
‘policy
70
advocacy’ in nature and, as such, appear more appropriately placed in the American
Research/Policy Development cluster than they do in the Australian Facilities
Management cluster. These three tasks are performed Frequently or Almost Always by
only 2.7 percent of the Australian respondents, whereas the Financial Management
tasks average a 13.7 percent performance at that level. In fact, the entire Facilities
Management cluster has a meagre 4.2 percent performance rating.
In summary, the Australian task data consists of 15 clusters which, in turn, was reduced
to two factors. The two factors clearly separate direct service clusters and indirect
service clusters.
Direct Service Clusters Indirect Service Clusters

• Intake & Referral • Staff Supervision
• Assessment & Intervention • Program Development
• Case Planning • Program Supervision
• Interpersonal Helping • Instruction
• Service Specific Interventions • Organisational Management
• Concrete Direct Services • Resource Management
• Facilities Management
Two clusters were loaded on both factors; they addressed tasks aimed at Professional Development and
Access Assurance of clients to services.
While less elaborately differentiated than the American practice framework presented
by Teare and Sheafor, the Australian practice framework is not dissimilar. The
American data yielded eighteen clusters and five factors. The five factors are in turn
grouped into three sets of activity: Client Centred, Practitioner Centred and Delivery
System Centred. Client Centred Activities include a Client Change Factor and a Client
Situation Change Factor which together correspond to the Australian Direct Service
Factor. The American Delivery System Centred Activities includes an
Organisation/Unit Operation Factor and a Resource/Service Change Factor
corresponding to the Australian Indirect Service Factor. The two Australian
multifactorially complex clusters Professional Development and Access Assurance are
in fact almost identical to the two U.S. clusters entitled Professional Development and
Delivery System Knowledge & Development which comprise the American factor
called Professional Competence Development, the single factor constituting Practitioner
Centred Activities.
Several patterns of relationship between task distributions in the two samples were
observed. There are three instances of substantial congruence between clusters. There
are two instances where a single Australian cluster combined two American clusters.
There are two occurrences of linked clusters where two or more Australian and
American clusters share subsets of tasks. And, finally there are three instances of
Australian clusters bundling together three of more American clusters.
Of course the notions of congruence, combining, linking and bundling are metaphorical
– images invoked to express the relationship between two independent sets of data.
71
Figure 8 goes here
72
Conclusion
The aim of this study was to both determine whether the Job Analysis Questionnaire,
developed within the American context, works in a different culture, and whether the
resulting American and Australian practice frameworks reflected recognisable
similarities and differences. The data presented clearly indicates that the Job Analysis
Questionnaire (JAQ) works in the Australian context. The number of task clusters, their
content, their Alpha reliability and the mean frequency of task cluster performance
point to the JAQ’s capacity to capture Australian social work practice, as well as to the
similarity of that practice with social work practice in the United States. The web of
task content relationships between Australian and American task clusters summarised in
Figure 8 and detailed in the preceding figures reflect more commonality than difference,
though some difference is there. In some instances it is not clear whether the differences
measured are due to real differences in practice or to the relatively smaller Australian
sample not containing enough occasions of more specialised practice to permit them to
emerge in the cluster structure. Examples of this phenomenon are the combining of such
relatively small (3 and 4 item), and more specialised American task clusters such as
Protective Services, Group Work, Individual & Family Treatment and Dispute
Resolution into larger and more content diverse Australian clusters.
The unknown impact of the relatively smaller Australian sample size also confounds the
issue of the different factor structures uncovered from the Australian and American
clusters. Would a larger Australian sample reveal a similarly more elaborate, and
specialised, factor structure or, is the simpler Australian factor structure reflective of the
more generalist approach to practice espoused, and perhaps empirically realised, in
Australia? We propose to explore this issue in greater detail with the Australian data in
a forthcoming analysis of task performance by areas of practice and job function.
Regardless of these unresolved matters, three important conclusions flow from our
analysis: First, that the Job Analysis Questionnaire has successfully captured social
work practice in a similar though distinct culture; second, that the substantive
comparison of practice in Australia and the United States, while not exhaustively
conclusive, points to recognisable similarities and differences; and that consequently,
and most importantly, as a number of the commentators within Teare and Sheafor’s
Practice-Sensitive Social Work Education have observed, the profession has in the Job
Analysis Questionnaire an important tool for the empirical study of social work
practice. We believe we have also demonstrated the JAQ’s potential for cross-national
comparative analysis.
73
Acknowledgments
The Australian data are drawn from Mapping Social Work in Victoria a study supported
by the Australian Research Council Grant No A78930877. Appreciation is also
expressed to Professor R. J. Teare for permission to use the Job Analysis Questionnaire
References
Aldenderfer, M.S. & R.K. Blashfield. 1984. Cluster Analysis. Beverly Hills: Sage.
Borowski, A. 1976. ‘General social work practice: A comparative study of two

community-based programs for juvenile offenders’. Unpublished Masters thesis.
University of Melbourne.
Green, C. StC. 1981. ‘Convergent and discriminant task patterns of social workers
compared to other select human service professionals’. Unpublished Ph.D.
dissertation. New Brunswick: Rutgers: The State University of New Jersey.
Haywood, M. 1990. ‘The nature of hospital social work practice: A task analysis’.
Unpublished Master of Social Work thesis. Bundoora: La Trobe University.
Klein, L. 1987. ‘Probation in context: Exploring the perceptions of probation officers

and probationers on the process of probation in two metropolitan centres in Victoria’.
Unpublished Master of Social Work thesis. University of Melbourne.
Lagay, B. W., D. Tapper & J. Simpson. 1977. ‘Training needs of human service
personnel’. A report prepared for the Department of Human Services. Trenton, N.J.:
New Jersey Department of Human Services.
Martin, E. & J. Healy. 1993. ‘Social work as women’s work: Census data 1976-1986’.
Australian Social Work 46(4): 13-18.
Meyers, R.W. 1981. ‘A functional approach to systems redesign: A task analysis of a

social service delivery system’. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation. New Brunswick,
N.J.: Rutgers-The State University of New Jersey.
Nunnally, J.C. 1969. Psychometric theory. New York: McGraw-Hill.
Robb, B. 1996. ‘Women’s work and men’s work in a female profession: A gender
analysis of 569 social work positions’. Unpublished Master of Social Work thesis.
Melbourne: The University of Melbourne.
74
Rosenman, L.S. 1980. ‘Social work education in Australia: The impact of the American
model’. Journal of Education for Social Work 16(1): 112-118.
Rubin, A. & E. Babbie. 1989. Research methods for social work. Belmont: Wadsworth.
SPSS Inc. 1988. SPSS-X User’s Guide. 3rd Edn. Chicago: SPSS Inc.
Teare, R.J. & B.W. Sheafor. 1995. ‘Practice-sensitive social work education: An
empirical analysis of social work practice and practitioners. Alexandria, VA: Council
on Social Work Education.
75
76
Sustaining the needs of spinal injured persons
6 in the NSW community
Lynn Kemp
Introduction
Management of long-term disability resulting from spinal injury requires the delivery of
comprehensive health, community, equipment and transport services over a long period
of time. The costs of providing the services needed by persons with spinal injuries can
be exorbitant, ranging between $17,500 and $29,000 per annum (Walsh, 1988), or a
total lifetime cost of between $1,000,000 and $2,000,000 (Ao, 1993) depending on the
level of disability. Three hundred persons who have incurred a new spinal injury return
to the New South Wales community every year. How can the community sustain the
provision of services for these people?
In 1990, the Disability Council of NSW called for structural reform in the area of
Commonwealth and State/Territory arrangements in the disability area to allow
resources to be used more effectively and for services to respond in a positive way to
the needs and wishes of people with disabilities. The Commonwealth Disability
Services Act was invoked in 1992 with the principles that people with disabilities have
the same rights as other members of society to services which will support their
attaining an acceptable quality of life; programs and services should promote
participation of people with disabilities in the life of the local community through
maximum physical and social integration; programs and services should provide
opportunities for people with disabilities to reach goals and enjoy life-styles which are
valued by the community at large and are appropriate to their age (Commonwealth
Department of Health, Housing & Community Services et al., 1992).
In order to realise these principles, the Act advocated the introduction of a ‘Consumer-
Focused Funding Approach’ and outcome based funding, that is, funding based upon
predetermined outcomes for the recipients of the service, such as, number of clients
served. These measures have been hampered by the large gap between supply and
demand for services, and the dearth of information on levels of met and unmet need
(Baume & Kay, 1994). Nevertheless, Government expenditure on the provision of home
and community care services increased at the rate of six percent per annum this year,
such that $451 million will be spent in the 1996–7 financial year (Commonwealth
Department of Health & Family Services, 1996).
77
The only mechanism our society has for assisting to sustain these costs in the case of
some spinal injuries is through the mechanism of insurance and compensation. It is
hoped that by compensating people for their injury, they will be able to afford to
personally pay for services which would, ‘restore persons to the lifestyle they would
have enjoyed were it not for their injuries’ (NSW Motor Accidents Act 1987-88), thus
relieving the burden on community resources.
In order to fully appreciate the demands placed upon our communities by persons with
spinal injuries, it is essential to know the answers to two questions:
• What professional services do spinal injured people want and need to sustain their
lives in our community, now and in the future? and
• How well is the mechanism of compensation sustaining the needs of spinal injured
persons in the community?
Ways of sustaining the provision of services for persons with spinal injuries can then be
discussed in light of the answers to these questions.
Lack of available data about persons with disabilities generally, and the specific needs
of individual disability types in particular has been a major factor preventing the
addressing of the issue of provision of appropriate community services. Two studies of
the spinal injured population of New South Wales have been conducted by the
Paraplegic and Quadriplegic Association of NSW in the past two decades (Paraquad,
1984/85; Freeth, 1993). Whilst these studies provided significant descriptive data, both
quantitative and qualitative, of the spinal injured population, the relationships of these
data with demographic characteristics, level and type of injury, service usage, access
and satisfaction were not provided. These studies along with many others have,
however, made it clear that there has been a conspicuous lack of resources and support
services for the disabled (Disability Council of NSW, 1990; Nowland-Foreman, 1988;
Van der Kolk & Van der Kolk, 1990; Gain, Ellis & Gray, 1983; Finch, 1987; Baume &
Kay, 1994).
A large study of the spinal injured population of NSW who were injured between 1977
and 1992 (n=2432) has been conducted to answer these questions and facilitate
discussion about sustaining persons with spinal injuries in our communities. The study
focused on the need for and use of community and paramedical services by people with
spinal injury living in the community, and the ability of compensation payments to meet
these needs. Responses were gained from 28.9 percent of the population (n=704), and
respondents were representative of the total population with regard to the year of injury
and geographic distribution. In addition, 35 volunteers were interviewed in-depth about
their experience of professional services.
78
What professional services do spinal injured people want and

need to sustain their lives in our community, now and in the
future?
In this study, professional services were defined as services provided by either

government or private agencies/persons, for which the provider of the service receives
payment. Services included in this study were home care, meals on wheels,
physiotherapy (government and private), home nursing (government and private),
occupational therapy (government and private), counselling (government and private),
speech therapy (government and private), attendant care, person minding, day care,
transport assistance (government and private), and respite care. In addition, respondents
were able to identify other services that they used.
Professional services were currently provided to just over half of the spinal injured
population of NSW. Overall, 51 percent (n=362) of all persons with spinal injury used
one or more professional service on at least an occasional basis. Of those who used
professional services, 50 percent used government services exclusively, 13 percent used
private services exclusively and 37 percent used a combination of government and
private services. Over one third (34%) of the spinal injured population of NSW used
one or more paramedical or community services on a regular basis. Some 28 percent of
the total spinal injured population were currently receiving assistance with everyday
living (such as bathing and toileting) from a nurse or paid carer (survey n=197, estimate
for total spinal injured population (est. SIP) N=682).
Services providing everyday assistance were most used, such as home care, and
government funded home nursing (survey n=128 and n=114 respectively).
Physiotherapy, both government and privately funded, was also used by large numbers
of spinal injured persons (survey n=76 and n=102 respectively), as was government and
private transport assistance (survey n=98 and n=73 respectively) (Table 1).
Despite the apparent large numbers of persons currently receiving services, the needs of
many spinal injured persons were unable to be sustained by the current level of service
provision. Unmet need in this study was measured as the number of those who would
like to access a service but cannot as a percentage of the total number of those who
would be currently using the service if there were no access problems, that is,
number of persons with access problem
number of persons with access problem + number of current users x 100
In this study, no measure was made of waiting lists for services, as this does not always
reflect the true level of unmet need, but rather, the number of people who were able to
place themselves on the list.
Overall, the level of currently unmet need was 48.8 percent. This indicated that services
were meeting the demands of just over half of the persons in
79
need of the services. The current level of unmet need for services in this population
ranged from 24.5 percent of persons needing publicly funded home nursing being
unable to get the service, an indicator that the service was by and large meeting demand
– up to 78.1 percent of persons needing meals on wheels being unable to access that
service (Table 1). The level of currently unmet need was high for services which give
respite, such as person minding and day care. There was also a high level of unmet need
for rehabilitative services, physiotherapy and occupational therapy. The level of unmet
need was higher for private services than government funded services (55.4% and
44.9% respectively).
Service capacity would need to increase considerably over the next five years to sustain
the future desire for services, that is, services that respondents believed they would
need. In total, professional services would experience an average potential increase in
demand over and above the current level of usage by the current spinal injured
population of New South Wales of 54.4 percent over the next five years (calculated as
the mean of the percentage potential increase in demand, that is, future desire over
current use, for each service). Government funded services could expect a potential 63.3
percent increase in demand over and above current usage levels whilst privately funded
services would experience a potential 31.0 percent increase. The services which would
experience the greatest anticipated percentage increase in demand over and above
current usage level over the next five years were services which provide respite. Such
services were currently used by few spinal injured persons, but would experience a
large increase in potential users – meals on wheels (214.3%), day care (100%), person
minding (55.5%), and respite care (53.1%).
The service which would experience the greatest increase in demand in actual numbers
by the current spinal injured population of New South Wales over the next five years
was home care, with a projected 256 persons planning to use this service (survey n=74).
Government funded home nursing and privately funded physiotherapy could also expect
increased demand (government home nursing, a projected further 180 persons (survey
n=52) and private physiotherapy a projected further 135 persons (survey n=39); Table
1).
The level of current usage of professional services sustained in our communities and
reported by spinal injured persons was large. The total population of 2432 spinal injured
persons in NSW were encountering, at least occasionally, 2879 services, however, a
further 2737 encounters would be needed to fully sustain the current service needs of all
spinal injured persons in NSW. In addition, a further 1242 services would be needed to
sustain the present population in the near future. That is, to fully sustain the service
needs of the spinal injured population of NSW, service capacity (at least occasional
encounters) would have to increase to 5616 immediately, and to 6858 by the year 2000;
a level of service provision that our communities, judging by current capacity, would be
unable to meet.
80
Table 1: Current use, unmet need and future demand for

services
Service current use access problem unmet future demand

need
n1 N2 n1 N2 % n1 N2
home care 128 443 71 246 35.7 74 256
meals on wheels 7 24 25 87 78.1 15 52
physiotherapy (private) 102 353 112 388 52.3 39 135
physiotherapy (govt) 76 262 92 318 54.8 37 128
home nursing (private) 33 114 55 190 62.5 11 38
home nursing (govt) 114 395 37 128 24.5 52 180
occupational therapy 16 55 45 156 73.8 5 17
(private)
occupational therapy 43 149 38 132 46.9 16 55
(government)
counselling (private) 22 76 33 114 60.0 5 17
counselling (govt) 25 87 31 107 55.4 7 24
attendant care 43 149 46 159 51.7 22 76
person minding 9 31 31 107 77.5 5 17
day care 11 38 24 83 68.6 11 38
transport assistance (private) 73 253 59 204 45.0 21 73
transport assistance 98 339 58 201 37.2 22 76
(government)
respite care 32 111 34 118 51.5 17 59
total 832 2879 791 2737 48.8 359 1242
1 survey n
2 total spinal injured population N, calculated as (survey n)/.289
How well is the mechanism of compensation sustaining the

needs of spinal injured persons in the community?
A major problem with sustaining the costs of spinal injury by compensating those who
are injured was that only a little over half of all spinal injuries incurred in the period
1977 to 1992 were found to be potentially compensible, that is, caused by car, motor
bike or work accidents, and of those only 76.6 percent were actually eligible to make a
claim (Table 2).
81
Table 2. Eligibility to claim compensation by cause of injury
Cause Eligible Not eligible Total1

n % n % n %
Motor car accident 101 82.1 22 17.9 241 34.9
Motor bike accident 15 55.6 12 44.4 65 9.4
Industrial/agricultural 15 71.4 6 28.6 69 10.0
accident
Water sport accident 1 1.3 75 98.7 76 11.0
Other sport 3 4.9 58 95.1 61 8.8
Other cause 8 4.5 170 95.5 178 25.8
Total 143 29.4 343 70.6 693 na
1 total includes 207 with injuries due to a potentially compensible cause and who did
not respond to the compensation survey.
Those respondents who received compensation (n=143, 29.4% of the total sample)
reported that the compensation paid was insufficient to sustain them for the expected
duration of their life. While 36.4 percent of persons who received compensation had
considered the sum adequate at the time, only 18.2 percent considered it adequate now,
and only 17.5 percent considered it would be adequate for the future. The most often
cited reason for the failure of compensation to be adequate at the time was the
magnitude of sums of money which had to paid immediately upon following resolution,
including legal expenses (the amounts expended immediately for payment of legal fees
were between 25 and 50 percent of the total sum awarded) and repayment of treatment
costs. Others commented that after initial spending on ‘the purchase of a house,
nothing’s left for treatment or to live on’. Some persons claimed that after paying such
expenses they had ‘absolutely nothing left’.
Many reasons for the failure of compensation to be adequate for current and future
needs were cited by respondents. A number of people were ‘victim[s] of bad investment
advice’, while others lost money in the droughts and investment crashes of the late
1980s, or were forced to make use of their capital sum due to low interest rates. A
change in family circumstances was also cited as a reason, with divorce or marriage and
children increasing the demand upon their funds. In addition, ‘all medical items have
risen in price astronomically’, ‘for example, catheters were 15 cents, now they are 75
cents’. Whatever the reason, by seventeen years post injury, relatively few compensated
respondents were still gaining income from their compensation payments or
investments, whilst a large percentage were sustained on the pension (Figure 1).
Figure 1. All sources of income by number of years post injury

for all compensated survey respondents who received a lump
sum compensation payment
82
45
40
35
30
25
%
20
15
10
0
7 10 13 17
years post injury
wages/ salary pension compensation investment
Compensation was clearly failing to sustain those persons who received it for the
duration of their lifetime. Increasing numbers of persons who did not work became
reliant on government pensions (and hence, publicly funded services) during the first
seventeen years post injury. Even those who were sustained financially by
compensation still reported being unable to access all the services they needed, indeed,
the level of unmet need for private services was greater than that for publicly funded
services.
The demands placed upon our communities by persons with spinal injuries was
considerable. A large number of services are provided to spinal injured person, yet there
was significant unmet need. Compensation was ineffectual as a mechanism for
sustaining these needs. So the question remains, how can the community sustain the
provision of services for these people?
83
Ways of sustaining the provision of services for persons with

spinal injuries.
The following solutions are presented as points for discussion and are not intended to be
definitive answers to what is a complex question.
A self-evident long term answer to this quandary would be to reduce (or eliminate) the
number of persons with spinal injuries in our communities. Prevention may purport to
achieve this end, however, despite increased education and awareness the number of
new spinal injuries entering the community each year did not decrease over the 16 years
studied (although this may result from decreased incidence and increased survival).
Many spinal injuries could not be prevented, spinal injuries due to motor car accidents
and sporting injuries did not significantly reduce, whilst other causes such as falls,
increased. The only cause which had experienced a significant decline was motor bike
accidents (86 cases, 15.3% of injuries in 1977–80, down to 22 cases, 5.4% in 1990–92;
χ2=31.94 df=20 p=.044).
Given that the number of persons with spinal injury in our communities is not likely to
decrease (at least, not in the immediate future), the only other solution would be to
reduce the need or demand for services by those persons.
The introduction of a fully comprehensive (regardless of the cause of injury), no fault

insurance scheme could allow those compensated to use private services thus relieving
the strain on community and publicly funded paramedical services. The evidence in this
paper suggests, however, that this would be an improbable solution. Not only would the
premiums for such insurance be expensive, but such a measure would only result in
transferring the hidden burden on the public sector to an open burden on individuals
who would be unlikely to have their needs met by the current level of private service
provision.
Perhaps the solution may be to challenge the initial notion that ‘management of long-
term disability resulting from spinal injury requires the delivery of comprehensive
health, community, equipment and transport services over a long period of time.’ This
study gave rise to four issues related to this notion.
Firstly, interviews conducted with spinal injured persons clearly indicated that most
were independently functioning members of their communities, who only wished to use
those services which were absolutely essential to maintaining their independence, such
as transport and personal care. The demand for such services was being reasonably well
met for those needing publicly funded services (transport assistance 37.2% unmet need,
home care 35.7% unmet need, home nursing 24.5% unmet need). The majority of
persons who had an unmet need for these services were persons with
84
quadriplegia. It would be reasonable to conclude that, in such cases, there was a genuine
failure of services to meet the everyday needs of these people.
In contrast, many spinal injured persons did not need services on a long-term or
continuous basis. These persons needed the reassurance that services would be
available, without delay or umbrage, when no other alternatives were present, such as in
an emergency or at particular times of stress. This was illustrated by small level of
current usage and the large level of unmet need for respite type services and
exacerbated by policies which tie access to such services to the receipt of everyday care
services, that is, the assumption that persons with disability require comprehensive
services over a long period of time, or none at all.
Thirdly, persons with spinal injury require intermittent therapy services, particularly
physiotherapy, but also occupational therapy and counselling. The large numbers of
people who used these services and the moderate level of unmet need were indicative of
the need for such services and the problems spinal injured persons have acquiring them.
Policies which fail to acknowledge the fluctuating nature of disability and tie access to
these services to an episode of acute illness compound the problem.
Finally, need for services seemed to be, in some cases, generated by the presence of the
service. For instance, whilst statistically, the unmet need for services overall was similar
in all areas of NSW (χ2=1.26 df=3 p=.739), persons living in country areas were, upon
interviewing, less distressed by the failure of services to meet all their needs, saying, for
example, ‘you don’t expect to get anything out here.’
Hence, the unmet need for services expressed by spinal injured persons may be a
constant immediate need, or a potential, intermittent, or service generated need. The
answer to the question of how to sustain the provision of services for persons with
spinal injuries may lie in discussion and decisions regarding which services our
communities are willing and able to sustain to meet which types of need.
85
References
Ao, J.D.Y. 1993. ‘Prevention of spinal cord injuries in an Australian study (New South
Wales)’. Paraplegia 31(12): 759-63.
Baume, P. & K. Kay. 1994. Strategic review of the disability services program. Interim
Report. Sydney: University of New South Wales.
Commonwealth Department of Health and Family Services. 1996. August 20. ‘A fair
and equitable home and community care programme’. Internet:
http://aesculapius.health.gov.au/hfs/pubs/budget96/ fact/hacc.htm
Commonwealth Department of Health, Housing and Community Services, Comcare,

and Australian Council of Trade Unions. 1992. ‘Australians focusing on ability and
working together’. Australian Disability Review (3): 13-29.
Disability Council of NSW. 1990. Disability services. A focus on outcomes. Sydney:

NSW Department of Family and Community Services.
Finch, J. 1987. Home and community care in western Sydney: Profile of people and
services. Blacktown: Western Sydney’s Regional Information and Research Service.
Freeth, S. 1993. Quadriplegia: A long experiment with yourself’. Homebush: The

Paraplegic and Quadriplegic Association of NSW.
Gain, L., S. Ellis, & D Gray. 1983. Cold Comfort. Sydney: Council of Social Service of
NSW
Nowland-Foreman, G. 1988. ‘Families and community care. Support and services for
people with disabilities’. In S. Graham & P. Whiteford (eds). Proceedings of Social
Welfare Research Centre Conference. Kensington: University of New South Wales.
Paraquad. 1984/85. Survey of Members. Homebush: The Paraplegic and Quadriplegic

Association of NSW.
Van der Kolk, C. J. & J. A. K. van der Kolk. 1990. ‘Follow-up of persons with litigation
related injuries’. Journal of Rehabilitation 56(4): 36-40.
Walsh, J. 1988. ‘Costs of spinal cord injury in Australia’. Paraplegia (26): 380-388.
86
Sustaining tolerance or homophobia?
7 alternative sexualities and local mass media

in New South Wales country towns
Gabriele Winter
What gives power its hold, what makes it accepted, is quite simply the fact that it
does not simply weigh like a force which says no, but that it runs through, and it
produces, things, it induces pleasure, it forms knowledge, it produces discourse; it
must be considered as a productive network which runs through the entire social
body much more than as a negative instance whose function is repression (Foucault,
1979:36).
Introduction
In Australia today, alternative sexualities and gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered
practices, are part of everyday city life and have in recent times achieved relatively high
degrees of media coverage and representation in national radio and television
broadcasts and in the national and metropolitan print media. However, the same can
obviously not be said for all Australian country towns and the situation experienced by
gay men, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered persons living there.
Shortly after I arrived in Wagga Wagga in February 1995, the regional daily newspaper,
The Daily Advertiser, launched an attack on the ABC for broadcasting the 1995 Sydney
Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras parade, calling it ‘that vile poofter parade in Sydney’. For
his ‘forthright consistent stand against homosexuality’ the editor of the paper was
congratulated in a letter to the editor published in a later edition. In this letter the writer
also remarked that ‘we have become tolerant to the point of foolishness in this
International Year of Tolerance’. The Riverina gay and lesbian community, which had
a float in the 1995 Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras parade took offence at the
editor’s comments and subsequent publications and a local citizen launched a complaint
for homosexual vilification against the Daily Advertiser before the NSW Anti-
Discrimination Board. From this example one could conclude that media representation
of alternative sexualities in the regional daily press is more intolerant or even
homophobic in comparison to ABC broadcasts or national newspapers. But is this
generally the case in rural Australian?
In a recent book on cultural diversity published by the State Library of New South
Wales, Fitzgerald and Wotherspoon (1995) argue that difference is
87
not a quality traditionally valued in Australian society, since earlier ideas stressed the
homogeneity of the population. In Sydney in the 1990s, they maintain, this has
significantly changed and more tolerant ideas have been enacted. They point to the
increasing public attraction of the annual Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras parades,
which in their view can be taken as some measure of tolerance for difference. The
question is, if New South Wales country towns such as Wagga Wagga, have followed
suit in respect to tolerance for difference in local media representation. This study aims
to shed some light on this question by analysing media representations of alternative
sexualities in regional daily newspapers in three New South Wales country towns.
Theorising normality, perversion and power
Preliminary research has shown that alternative sexualities hardly ever feature in local
and regional mass media, such as regional daily newspapers, local radio and television
broadcasts, and gay men, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered people living in country
towns still face difficulties in getting their voices heard. This public silence in relation
to representation, representativeness and representing of alternative sexualities seems to
be part of the dominant discourse, which renders invisible those gay men, lesbians,
bisexuals and transgendered persons who live in country towns and rural areas.
The discourse appears to construct alternative sexualities and anything associated with
them as an urban problem which exists in the city, which therefore has no place in the
‘normality’ of everyday life in an Australian country town. If, however, on rare
occasion, for example in the reporting of metropolitan events, gay, lesbian, bisexual and
transgender issues or members of such groups attract attention of the local mass media,
they are presented as perverse, unnatural and outside or beyond normality.
Nevertheless, despite processes of silencing and representation of negative images in

the public sphere, Australian country towns have rather active gay and lesbian
communities, which are organised in country networks. In New South Wales, which has
now the largest country network of gay and lesbian people in Australia, ‘The Country
Network’ was founded in Dubbo in 1977 to offer contact and friendship to gay and
lesbian people in country towns, while not excluding those who live in the cities. Active
regional gay and lesbian support groups offering contacts, recreational activities, health
and counselling services, news hot lines, published newsletters and World Wide Web
pages exist in the regional centres of Albury, Dubbo and Wagga Wagga. During the last
five years they have become more active and better organised, with most of them now
being incorporated bodies.
In addition to pubic silence, there is an almost total lack of academic literature on

alternative sexualities and the mass media in country towns, not only in Australia, but
internationally. Literature closest to the topic of
88
tolerance or homophobia in New South Wales country towns are Richard Roberts’
articles on ‘Men who have sex with men in the bush’ (1992 and 1995). Roberts
specifically focuses on non-heterosexual male sexuality in one rural area of New South
Wales, the Riverina region. The limit of his studies to male sexuality, which includes
homosexual and bisexual men, means that situations and issues experienced by lesbian
women and transgender persons are not dealt with. Therefore, we cannot conclude that
Roberts’ findings apply in the same way to these two groups, nor that the situation is
similar in other rural areas and country towns in New South Wales. Roberts and some
other writers have identified the following roots of the problem of homophobia in rural
areas and country towns:
• countrymindedness or conservatism of the local population (Roberts, 1992, 1994,
1995; Duncan, 1995);
• the closeted lifestyle of gay men and lesbians in rural areas.(Roberts, 1992, 1995;
Davis 1995) and
• the lack of gay and lesbian support networks in country towns (Roberts, 1992, 1994).
Rural sociology literature on country journalism and regional mass media emphasises
that provincial or country journalism may sustain conservatism and countrymindedness
and reproduce ‘redneck’ attitudes (Pretty, 1995; Kirkpatrick, 1995; McDougall, 1995).
Nevertheless, Pretty’s research (1995:201-215) also demonstrates that there are only
minor differences in social indicators – such as educational background, gender
composition, age structure and income levels – between journalists working for regional
daily and metropolitan newspapers.
Steven Hodge (1995) studied the meaning of being ‘out’ for gay men in suburban
Sydney (being ‘out’ means disclosing one’s sexuality to friends, family members or
colleagues at work). His study focuses on the relationship of social space and sexual
identity and provides a challenge to the myth that gay men and lesbians in non-
metropolitan areas are hiding ‘in the closet’ (Hodge, 1995:41-47). A recent
comprehensive Canadian study provides great insights into gay and lesbian lives in the
countryside. The sixty stories documented show the existence of gay and lesbian
support networks in country towns and reveal that there are different ways of being
‘out’ in rural areas, which supports Hodge’s findings (Riordon, 1996).
In a recent publication by the Centre for Rural Social Research, rural sociologists have
questioned the validity of explanations such as rural conservatism and
countrymindedness. Share (1995: 1-17) suggests that we need to look beyond
countrymindedness and conservative ideology in order to explain what he calls the post-
rural era. Today, homogeneity of the population in Australian country towns can no
longer be assumed. Share and Lawrence (1995: 99) argue that countrymindedness is an
assertion by the media who use it to ‘shock and arouse’ the local population. In my
view, this is especially the case when it comes to themes concerning alternative
sexualities, such as HIV/AIDS, paedophilia, same-sex relationships and gay and lesbian
culture and life styles.
89
In relation to this research project, I consider Foucault’s work on sexuality and power
relations of great importance because it enables a more complex analysis of discourses
and media representations of alternative sexualities (see Foucault, 1979, 1981, 1988).
Foucault emphasised that sexuality is not an essentially personal attribute, but an
available cultural category. Accordingly, sexuality is the effect of power rather than
simply its object and modern subjectivity is therefore to be understood as an effect of
networks of power. Because power is exercised from innumerable points, it is not only
negative or repressive, but also productive and enabling (Jagose, 1996: 79-80).
In Foucault’s analysis, marginalised sexual identities are not simply victims of the
operations of power, they are the very products of those operations. He questions the
belief that to voice previously denied and silenced alternative sexual identities is to defy
power and hence induce a transformative effect. In his view ‘where there is power, there
is resistance’ and the two always coexist and he specifically discusses how the category
of homosexuality was formed in relation to structures of power and resistance
(Foucault, 1981: 95).
Just like power, for Foucault, resistance is multiple and unstable; it settles at certain
points, is dispersed across others, and circulates in discourse. Discourse is the
heterogeneous collection of utterances, it constitutes and contests meanings and
Foucault (1988: 100) says: “We must not imagine a world of discourse divided between
accepted discourse and excluded discourse, or between the dominant discourse and the
dominated one; but as a multiplicity of discursive elements that come into play in
various strategies.”
Researching representation, representativeness and

representing
Dyer (1993: 3) claims that negative designations of a group in media representation

have negative consequences for the lives of members associated with that group. This is
because media representations have real consequences for real people, not just the way
they are treated, but in terms of the way representations delimit as well as enable what
people can be in any given society. Consequently, harassment, discrimination, self-
restriction and self-hate are all shored up and socially instituted by representation (Dyer,
1993: 1).
Dyer stresses that lesbians and gay men as categories are not merely given by reality,
but are forms of cultural re-presentation with the general characteristic of representation
“that it constitutes the very social grouping it also re-presents” (1993: 3). While a
significant number of people in society identify as gay or lesbian, these identities are
usually claimed within lesbian/gay cultures. According to Dyer (1993: 2),
representations are first and foremost presentations involving the use of symbols, codes
and
90
conventions and therefore are cultural forms which cannot have single determinate
meanings and they do not constitute reality as such, but other representations.
Cultural representation which socially constructs minority groupings, such as

lesbians/gay men/bi-sexuals/transgendered people, is a complex social process, which
can analytically be distinguished into the three sub-processes: representation,
representativeness and representing. That is how a minority grouping is represented,
that is presented over again in cultural forms (representation), how an image of a
member of a grouping is taken as a representative of that group (representativeness) and
whether groups are spoken for – on behalf of or if they are enabled to speak for
themselves – with their own voices (representing) (Dyer, 1993: 1).
Therefore, how lesbians, gay men, bisexuals and transgendered persons see themselves,
their place in society, their rights as citizens, have all to do with representation,
representativeness and representing. How people identifying with gay culture and/or
alternative sexual practices are treated in cultural representation is closely related to
how they are treated in everyday life, how they perceive and practise self and how they
experience themselves as members of society. Therefore cultural representation is social
as well as political. Public intolerance, homophobia, vilification, harassment,
discrimination, self-restriction and self-hatred are connected and enacted by
representation, which has a rather complex relationship to reality. However, reality is
mostly apprehended through representations of reality, that is through texts, images and
discourses, since unmediated access to reality is today virtually impossible.
It is this reality of gay men, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered persons living in
Australian country towns this research intends to understand at a deeper level. The
research project investigates the representation, representativeness and representing as a
dynamic process and identifies issues concerning gay, lesbian, bisexual and
transgendered people in local and regional mass media in the New South Wales country
towns: Albury, Dubbo and Wagga Wagga. It’s aims and objectives are:
• to explain why representation of negative images of sexual otherness and
homophobic texts persist in local mass media in Australian country towns and rural
areas;
• to explain the absence of anything associated with alternative sexualities from the
dominant discourse in Australian country towns and rural areas;
• to shed some light on the public silence about alternative sexualities in Australian
country towns and rural areas, which seems to be part of the discourse by which gay,
lesbianism, bi- and transsexuality are constructed
• to provide new information for a better understanding of the particular social
conditions and political situation of life as experienced by gay, lesbian, bisexual and
transgendered people in Australian country towns;
• to make a retrospective contribution to the International Year of Tolerance declared
by the United Nations.
91
The research provides a media analysis of regional daily newspapers published in the
three regional centres, the Albury based Border Mail, the Dubbo based Daily Liberal
and the Wagga based Daily Advertiser. Special attention was directed to the editorials,
letters to the editor, images and general news coverage, in order to obtain quantitative
and qualitative data of representation of alternative sexualities. The regional daily
newspapers were studied during two time periods over four weeks. The two specific
time periods in March/April 1996 and November/December 1996 were selected on the
basis that major events of great relevance to the representation of alternative sexualities
took place during that time, such as the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, the 2nd
Rural HIV/AIDS Conference and World AIDS Day celebrations. Therefore a unusually
high coverage of news on the topic was expected.
Furthermore, in order to investigate the representation, representativeness and

representing of issues identified with alternative sexualities, a discourse analysis will
also be attempted. Because of the relative public silence experienced in Australian
country towns in relation to alternative sexualities and the reported invisibility of gay
men, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered persons who live in those country towns and
rural areas, it is very important to establish what is absent or excluded from the
discourse/text and who speaks for whom (Roberts, 1992, 1994, 1995; Davis, 1995).
This knowledge is generally available to insiders, that is people who actively engage in
local and country gay and lesbian support networks and have access to not only the
‘Gay and Lesbian Press’, but also to information circulated via newsletters, group
meetings, workshops, conferences, recreational and other activities as well as personal
contacts. On this point, my research interest goes further than the recording of
communication, interaction and correspondence between local gay and lesbian groups
and the regional mass media. It is of great importance to me how members of these
groups see themselves represented, how their place in society can be more respected
and valued, how their rights as citizens can be established and guaranteed and how their
social and everyday lives can be further improved.
Media analysis: news items, themes and tenor of

representation
The first main finding of this study is that the three regional daily newspapers analysed
differ significantly in their representation of alternative sexualities. If a label had to be
assigned to each of them, I would describe the Albury based Border Mail as ‘the silent
one’, the Wagga based Daily Advertiser as ‘the rejecting one’, and the Dubbo based
Daily Liberal as ‘the supportive one’. This is of special interest given the circulation
figures and ownership of the regional daily newspapers. The Border Mail has
92
approximately 26,000, the largest circulation, and is owned by the Mott family. The
second largest circulation with approximately 15,000 copies, was the Daily Advertiser,
owned by the Henderson family. With 6,000 copies, the Daily Liberal, which is part of
J.B. Fairfax, has by far the smallest circulation of the three (Communications Law
Centre, 1997: 25).
My general impression is that regional daily newspapers are as diverse as the

populations of Australian country towns when it comes to tolerance, acceptance and
rejection of alternative sexualities. The diversity becomes much clearer when we
examine the media representation of alternative sexualities in more detail and take a
closer look at the news items, coverage, themes and tenor of articles published during
the two time periods studied in the three regional dailies. Altogether 139 news items
dealing with issues of alternative sexualities were recorded during the two research
periods. A break down by type of news item is shown in Table 1 below, for each of the
regional daily newspapers.
Table 1 Coverage of alternative sexualities in daily

newspapers by type of representation
Editor-ial Letters Images Features Articles Classi-

fieds
The Border 0 0 3 2 20 0
Mail
The Daily 3 0 5 2 28 11
Advertiser
Daily Liberal 5 3 26 15 15 1
TOTAL 8 3 34 19 63 12
(n=139)
At one end of the scale, the Border Mail has the lowest number of images and articles,
including features, and lacks any editorials, letters to the editor or classified
advertisements. At the other end of the scale, the Daily Liberal includes the highest
number of images, feature stories, editorials and letters to the editor, but only one
classified advertisement. Interestingly, in contrast to the small number of editorials,
letters to the editor and feature stories, the Daily Advertiser has the highest number of
classifieds, advertising services for male to male escorts and a gay/lesbian/bi contact
line.
In order to detect changes over time, I have also compared the types of news items
recorded during the two time periods studied. The Daily Advertiser is the only
newspaper showing a significant difference in reporting gay and lesbian issues between
the two time periods researched. This can be
93
explained in relation to the outcome of the case before the NSW Anti-Discrimination
Board mentioned earlier, which was decided in favour of the complainant and imposed
certain conditions on the Daily Advertiser to ensure a more balanced coverage and
reporting of issues related to alternative sexualities.
Another striking difference between the two time periods can be seen in the more
extensive reporting including feature stories and photographic images by the Daily
Liberal during the March/April period. This is directly related to the reporting on the
second Rural HIV/AIDS conference held in Dubbo during that time, which attracted
extensive and extremely supportive media coverage in the local daily newspaper.
Interestingly, neither of the other two newspapers included in this study made any
mention of that conference at the time. The differences discussed above are evident
again in the themes selected by the regional daily newspapers when reporting on
gay/lesbian/bi-sexual/transgender issues as presented in Table 2 below.

newspapers by theme
HIV/AIDS Couples Paedophile Workplace Culture
The Border 2 4 12 2 2
Mail
The Daily 6 2 16 4 5
Advertiser
Daily Liberal 27 0 6 0 5
TOTAL 35 6 34 6 12
N= 93 (Classifieds and Images excluded)
Overall, the two dominant themes are HIV/AIDS and paedophilia, for which similar
numbers of news items have been recorded. Cultural themes, workplace related stories,
and news items on same-sex families and homosexual relationships, feature less in all
three papers. However, if we study the break down of themes covered in the three
newspapers for each time period separately, we find crucial differences.
A major change occurred in the selection and reporting of themes in the Daily
Advertiser from the earlier to the later period. The Daily Advertiser somewhat reduced
its emphasis on paedophile stories in favour of a more balanced coverage of other
themes, such as HIV/AIDS, workplace related and cultural news. While there was
virtually no change in the coverage of themes and news items presented in the Border
Mail, the Daily Liberal printed fewer stories in all categories of themes during the
November/December period. Table 3 shows the distribution of news stories
94
in respect to the social space within which the stories originated. This aspect of media
representation is important in the sense that it highlights whether alternative sexualities
are presented as something that occurs elsewhere and far away or as something local,
and even as a rural issue. The Border Mail and the Daily Advertiser cover issues related
to alternative sexualities almost exclusively in international news and state news, with
stories on paedophiles predominating.
Both papers offer nothing on alternative sexualities with a rural focus, and only a couple
of local news stories and national news, on gay and lesbian issues. In contrast, the Daily
Liberal places the emphasis of reporting on issues related to HIV/AIDS, all of which
have a local and/or rural focus. Only one international news item was found in the Daily
Liberal, while national and state news on paedophilia and cultural events were evenly
distributed, but not predominant. During the November/ December period the Daily
Advertiser also reported some international news and two local stories on HIV/AIDS
with photographs.

newspapers by spatial presentation of news
Internat- National State Local Rural

ional
Mail
The Daily 11 2 18 2 0
Advertiser
TOTAL 18 12 39 21 3
N = 93 (Classifieds and Images excluded)
While there are significant differences in the news coverage, selection of themes and
spatial representation, the most striking differences between the three regional dailies
can be found in the tenor of their representation of alternative sexualities. In the Daily
Liberal, accepting stories dominate and there is also a number of articles celebrating
alternative sexualities. While overtly and covertly dismissive news stories hardly ever
feature in the paper, some strongly dismissive letters to the editor have been published.
The majority of the articles in the Daily Advertiser and in the Border Mail are overtly
dismissive of homosexuality and non-heterosexual practices and lifestyles, as can be
seen in Table 4 below.
In the November/December time period, we can observe a more even balance between
overtly dismissive, covertly dismissive, factual and accepting news stories. Dismissive
articles dropped to about half in
95
comparison to the March/April period and there was more factual reporting, especially
in the Daily Advertiser. Furthermore, the tenor of representation is strongly reflected in
the headlines of the newspaper articles. A selection of five newspaper headlines from
each of the regional dailies is illustrated in Figure 1 below. They provide an idea on the
tone set by the media to attract readers’ attention for the news story. The headlines have
been chosen to give examples of the full range of overtly dismissive, covertly
dismissive, factual, accepting and celebrating tenors in the reporting.

newspapers by tenor of representation
Overtly Covertly Factual Accepting Celebrating

dismissive dismissive
Mail
The Daily 23 8 10 2 0
Advertiser
TOTAL 36 12 20 28 7
N= 93 (Classifieds and Images excluded)
Figure 1 Selection of newspaper headlines
The Border Mail:

Millionaire ‘lured boys’
Robin is playing it straight(ish)
Gay man fired for computer game’s hunks
Gay couples tie the knot
Help is in the wings for gay men
The Daily Advertiser:

Yeldham offered money for sex man tells inquiry
San Francisco holds mass ‘gay marriage’ ceremony
No studs please its a computer game
Tribunal told gay chef cannot take action over sacking
Polynesian men who act like women will meet in NZ
Daily Liberal:
Society can do without the Gay Mardi Gras and the word that it spreads
Time Act didn’t discriminate against innocent heterosexuals
Yeldham inquiry
For Ian life is much more than just waiting his turn
Gay choir in fine voice for opening
96
While headlines such as the ones above contain clear messages regarding alternative
sexualities, the photos in some of the newspaper articles hardly ever illustrate these
messages. One of the main reasons for this is that being gay, lesbian, bi-sexual or
transgendered is not immediately visible in a person’s physical appearance. However,
there are signs such as clothing, hairstyle, jewellery, colours, gestures, expressions and
environments that make the invisible sexuality visible (Dyer, 1993: 19). These signs are
cultural forms and signifiers allowing a reader or viewer to identify a person as ‘gay’,
‘lesbian’ and so on. In portraits printed in newspapers, such signifiers are often absent
and a person can only be categorised as ‘gay man’, ‘lesbian’ or something other by
captions placed below the picture or through a description of labels in the actual text of
an article.
Out of the 34 images that were found in the news items studied, only three contained
cultural signs, mainly in form of gestures and expressions, that represented the persons
shown as either gay or lesbian. One picture in the Daily Advertiser (27/3/96: 14)
portrayed two men dressed identically holding flowers and hugging at their wedding
ceremony in San Francisco. Another photo published on the front page of the Daily
Liberal (2/12/96: 1) pictured two women with short hair and very little on, sliding down
a waterslide in a close embrace, with their faces expressing great pleasure. A further
image printed in the Daily Liberal (28/3/96: 3) shows three conference delegates with
smiling faces leaning over a billboard for the gay movie ‘Jeffery’.
In addition to these images two other pictures published in the Daily Liberal (31/3/96:
2) use captions in order to classify or identify persons as gay and lesbian. In the text
underneath a portrait of a female speaker, the women is identified as a “gay and lesbian
community activist” and the text below the other picture describes a male person as the
“conductor of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Choir”. Apart from these five visual
representations of lesbians and gay men, images printed in the newspapers are either
inconclusive or rely on descriptions in the text to communicate the sexuality of the
people portrait.
Discourse analysis: representativeness and representing
The following analysis of discourses aims to provide some insights into what constitutes
dismissiveness, factuality and support in media representation of alternative sexualities.
Two major discourses can be distinguished, which I have termed the discourse of
rejection, and the discourse of support. There is a third discourse which fits neither of
the above descriptions, but which is characterised by minimal reporting, factual
presentations, and an avoidance of opinion (no rejection and no support). This discourse
can be interpreted as one of avoidance, since it does neither condemn nor accept
alternative sexualities and it remains silent in terms of critique or support. Because of
the silence, it cannot be adequately analysed by means of discourse analysis. In this
paper, therefore, I will focus on the two other discourses, whose substantive lines of
arguments are summarised in Figure 2 below.
97
Figure 2 Two discourses: rejection and support
The discourse of rejection: The discourse of support:

(dismissive line of arguments) (accepting line of arguments)
We want our right to free speech Take a stance against country rednecks
We are the oppressed majority Minorities must be protected/supported
This disrupts our social fabric This benefits our community/town
That affronts our traditions Let’s celebrate achievement/change
They have done it to themselves We all own the problem
We know the right answers We must work together for solutions
Most of the quotes given below have been taken from the Daily Liberal, because it is
the only regional daily that engages in a pubic debate drawing out the controversies
between the discourse of rejection and the discourse of support. By concentrating
mainly on one newspaper, I am intending to avoid the simplistic view or perception that
one discourse is communicated in one country newspaper and the other one in another.
There are discursive elements of all discourses in each of the newspaper studied,
although these vary in degree and in the overall tenor of representation. In the
following, I would like to comment on the content and meanings of each of the
components of the respective line of arguments, starting with the discourse of rejection.
The call for peoples’ rights to free speech usually appears in published letters to the
editor. The basic argument is that there should not be any limitation on citizens to say
what they like and that any political regulation that restricts the expression of sexist,
racist and homophobic viewpoints in fact represses majority views, while the ‘less
important’ views of minorities are protected. This fits neatly with the second argument,
which makes the claim that today it is not minorities, but the majority that is oppressed
by state intervention and anti-discrimination legislation in this country. Issues of
discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation are turned up-side-down, maintaining
that it is now the homosexual minority that discriminates against the heterosexual
majority and vilifies people on grounds of their heterosexuality. It is also implied that
heterosexual people would not be covered under current anti-discrimination law and
could not make a complaint against ‘heterosexual vilification’. In reality, this is not the
case at all.
The disruption of ‘the social fabric’ of our society through ‘perverse’ sexual practices
features frequently in editorials of regional daily newspapers. It is assumed that a
significant number of ‘perverts’ have infiltrated government departments, social
institutions and community organisations. Because of the negative consequences this
has for the innocent and vulnerable, the
98
community’s confidence in societal institutions and role models is shaken. Paedophilia

is discussed as the most prominent example in this context, often sensationalising what
goes on in public toilets between gay men and under-aged boys. Most of the articles and
editorials completely ignore the fact that the vast majority of sexually abused children
are girls that have been sexually assaulted by heterosexual men mostly within their own
homes and families.
Along similar lines, it is the public activities of gay and lesbian communities that are
commented on as affronting and destroying traditions, especially Christianity. The most
frequently mentioned event in letters to the editor is the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi
Gras, described as an ‘immoral function’ promoting diseases such as HIV/AIDS and
‘irresponsible sexual permissiveness, all of which goes against God and our ‘Christian
heritage’. However, the main concern of the writers is not with safe sex campaigns to
reduce the spread of the AIDS virus, but with political campaigns to save Christianity
by putting an end to the major annual celebration of alternative sexualities. This is
because it is thought that people living with HIV/AIDS have brought the disease upon
themselves through sexual practices that are considered morally ‘wrong’ and
‘unnatural’.
Readers and editors following this dismissive line of arguments often take on a rightist
attitude when it comes to proposing solutions to the problems identified. They are the
ones who know the answers, which governments, legal bodies and other societal
institutions are unable to put forward. In order to illustrate this point, I quote from an
editorial text dealing with what to do with paedophiles, which reads as follows:
Revelations of paedophilia – right under the nose of the Government – at this

week’s Police Royal Commission have been truly sickening. ... Why sexual
monsters of this kind are allowed – virtually encouraged – to prey on innocent
children is beyond comprehension. ... What is wrong with the world these days?’ ...
Here we have someone – one of the worst types of individuals a society could have
– allowed to go free despite a damning case against him. ... Despite all this, the man
insists he is not a deviant and maintains he does not need help for his sexual
attraction to young males. ... He should be named, shamed and locked up for good.
(The Daily Advertiser, March 30, 1996: 2, Editor’s Desk)
The discourse of support attempts to counter the dismissive arguments outlined above.
In some of the regional daily newspapers studied, a clear stance is taken in the editorials
against what has been described as ‘country redneck’ attitudes. The main critique is
levelled against the double morality in ‘redneck’ positions, which on the one hand want
to deny health and other community services to people who have contracted a deadly
virus such as HIV/AIDS through homosexual sex, while on the other hand lobby for
more public funds and services for people who injure themselves in violent sports or
develop serious illnesses as a result of their eating, drinking and smoking habits. In
consistent line with this, ‘redneck’ resistance is criticised as ‘unco-operative and
arrogant behaviour’ and portrayed as an ‘insult and embarrassment’ for the whole
township or community.
99
Furthermore, a clear stance is also taken against paedophilia, and it is argued that
vulnerable adults and all children must be protected against abuse and sexual assault by
society. Writers following the accepting line of arguments maintain that sexual as well
as other minorities must be supported in their attempts to deal with serious health and
social issues facing their communities. They view safety, education, pubic awareness
and tolerance as messages of great importance and recognise the achievements of gay
and lesbian initiatives and organisations in this respect. The assumption that AIDS is
just ‘a gay disease’ has been challenged by pointing out that more and more children,
women and men of all sexual orientations are affected by the disease. Overall, the
emphasis is on a collective responsibility and ownership of the problem.
‘Progress’ and change, which are seen to come about through more tolerance, public
awareness and community education on issues related to sexualities, are believed to
benefit not only the country town, but all members of the community and society as a
whole. Solutions to the problems identified are not presented as something already
known by experts or by the writers of the text. Is suggested that they need to be
specifically worked out, taking account of the local environment in which they occur,
between workers and representatives of regional health and community services and
rural gay and lesbian support groups. The following quote is a typical example of the
line of argument in the discourse of support:
Often the issues faced by gays and lesbians in rural communities are similar to those
faced in the cities but the solutions are very different and that is what people have
been trying to do for the past few days – come up with solutions. ... Western New
South Wales health workers have decided to virtually restructure the delivery of
HIV Services because we discovered that there is a better way to provide the
services. (Daily Liberal, March 31, 1996: 2, Western Sunday)
While in texts written from within the discourse of support, gay and lesbian community
activists are frequently cited or referred to, this has never occurred in texts located
within the discourse of rejection. As Foucault (1988: 164-5) has emphasised, discourse
embraces a politics of inclusion and exclusion, which is clearly evident in the discursive
elements described above. However, the point is not just that voices of the gay and
lesbian community are presented, but which ones, given the enormous diversity of gay,
lesbian, bi-sexual and transgendered people. In relation to this, which we may also term
representativeness, the overall emphasis in the articles found on HIV/AIDS,
paedophiles, relationships, workplace and cultural issues is on gay men and their
sexuality. Lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered people are mostly excluded.
Only one article in each, the Border Mail and the Daily Advertiser, focuses on
transgender issues and the only themes where lesbians are included are stories on same-
sex families and homosexual relationships. Even if articles discuss joint gay and lesbian
activities such as the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, the words lesbian and
Sydney are usually omitted and the
100
event becomes the ‘Gay Mardi Gras’. On the other hand, the Daily Liberal published an
article discussing lesbian issues as a feature story and printed lesbian images on the
front page. Out of the three regional newspapers studied, the Daily Liberal is the only
newspaper that includes women in it’s stories and images- as lesbians, sisters of gay
men, female artists, gay and lesbian activists, community representatives and health
professionals working in the area of HIV/AIDS.
With regards to representing – that is the aspect of agency where the people concerned
are either given a voice or they are spoken for – the gay and lesbian community in
Dubbo manages to get their voices heard, while their counterparts in Albury and Wagga
Wagga have greater difficulties in gaining space and voice in their local newspapers. In
each, the Border Mail and the Daily Advertiser, local gay and lesbian support groups
despite their public activities, are only represented in one article and one photograph. In
case of the Daily Advertiser the latter was possibly more a reflection of the outcome of
the tribunal hearing before the Anti-Discrimination Board, where the newspaper had
been directed to make concessions in favour a more balanced coverage of gay and
lesbian people in the Riverina.
Conclusion
This research shows not only the silencing and representation of negative media images
of alternative sexualities in New South Wales country towns, but also the public
visibility of gay men, lesbians and their activities in the regional daily press, at least in
some of the country towns that were included in this project. In the final analysis,
neither tolerance nor homophobia have proven adequate social concepts to capture and
deal with the complexities of representation, representativeness and representing of
alternative sexualities in the three regional daily newspapers studied. Homophobia
should better be termed ‘cultural heterosexism’ because it is not something pathological
in society, but a cultural process and product that pervades societal customs and
institutions (see Herek, 1995). Tolerance is a vague concept because its meanings can
vary considerably. For example, presenting merely facts and avoiding a political stance
is not necessarily neutral, and it can be part of a process of silencing rather than
expressing an acceptance of sexual difference. The discourses of rejection, support and
avoidance appears to be better suited to study and analyses the variety of discursive
elements encountered, as well as the dynamics of power relations, including the politics
of inclusion and exclusion. Overall, the research findings support Foucault’s analysis on
sexuality, discourse and power, discussed earlier in this paper, in that there is not just
one dominant discourse on sexualities produced in media representation, but a variety
of discursive elements. The presentation and construction of ‘paedophilia’ and
HIV/AIDS as problems of ‘perverse’ male homosexuality, also enables at the same time
the formation of a ‘reverse’ discourse. Specifically in relation to HIV/AIDS, voices
speaking for homosexual people and gay and lesbian organisations demanding that the
legitimacy and
101
naturalness of alternative sexualities be acknowledged. After all, in studying

representations we are dealing with cultural forms which are unstable, dynamic and
sometimes contradictory.
Generally, the findings of this research challenge a number of commonly held beliefs
and myth about media representations of alternative sexualities in Australian country
towns. Neither countrymindedness and provincial journalism, nor assumed closeted
lifestyles and lacking support networks for gay men and lesbian women can account for
the diversity of media representation found in this study. This research suggests that we
might have to give up on the blanket assumptions that regional daily newspapers just
present homophobic viewpoints and that gay and lesbian communities in country towns
are voiceless and powerless. Furthermore, the wider gay and lesbian community might
have to reconsider the taken for granted idea that certain Sydney inner city areas are the
only social spaces where people practising alternative sexualities can be ‘out’ and
attract public recognition and supportive media representation.
102
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Communications Law Centre 1997. Media Ownership update. Communications Update

29 (February): 22-27.
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Post-modern values, dissatisfaction
8 with conventional medicine and

popularity of alternative therapies
Mohammad Siahpush
Abstract
This paper reviews three competing hypotheses that explain why people turn to
alternative medicine. According to the medical outcome hypothesis, the reason is that
they are dissatisfied with the health outcomes of conventional medicine. According to
the medical encounter hypothesis, the reason is that they are dissatisfied with the
doctor-patient interaction patterns. According to the post-modern hypothesis, the reason
is the recent emergence of a new value system which is congruent with the
philosophical underpinnings of alternative medicine. Multivariate analyses of results
based on a random sample of individuals support the medical encounter and post-
modern hypotheses and show that the set of post-modern values, in comparison to
dissatisfaction with the medical encounter, is by far a better predictor of attitudes
towards alternative medicine. Future research directions are discussed.
Introduction
Evidence of the rapid growth of alternative medicine and widespread use of these
therapies in Australia, New Zealand, the United States of America and most European
countries abound. Many scholars have offered theoretical explanations for the
popularity of alternative medicine. These explanations identify three factors responsible
for this phenomenon: dissatisfaction with health outcomes of conventional medicine;
dissatisfaction with the patterns of doctor/patient relationships; and the emergence of a
new value system which is identified as ‘post-modern’ by some theorists. Only very few
works in this field have moved beyond theorising and speculation and attempted to
explain the growth of alternative medicine empirically. Among these studies, only one
uses methods other than simple bivariate analysis of data (Yates et al., 1993). Thus far,
no explanatory empirical work has used multivariate analyses of data based on a
random sample of the general population. In this paper, first, I will review major
arguments that attempt to explain why people favour alternative therapies. Next, based
on a random sample, I will
105
develop a multivariate model that empirically tests and assesses the relative importance
of these explanations. Finally, in the discussion and conclusion section I will link this
research to the notion of sustainability, discuss weaknesses of the study and introduce
future research direction.
Why do people turn to alternative medicine?
Three major reasons for the growth of alternative therapies have been proposed a)
dissatisfaction with the health outcomes of conventional medicine, b) dissatisfaction
with the medical encounter, and c) emergence of a new (the post-modern) value system.
I will discuss these explanations and summarise evidence in support of each. There are
only four empirical works in this area: Furnham and Forey’s quasi-experimental study
of 160 subjects attending alternative and conventional medicine clinics in England
(1994); Yates et al.’s survey of 152 cancer patients in Australia (1993); Sharma’s local
qualitative study of 30 non-orthodox patients in England (1992); and Furnham and
Smith’s quasi-experimental study of 43 patients of a general practitioner and 44 patients
of a homoeopath in England (1988).
Dissatisfaction with health outcomes of conventional medicine
These explanations suggest that people turn to alternatives because they have become
disillusioned with conventional medicine (Holden, 1978) which has failed to deliver the
promise of eradicating suffering and providing good health. Conventional medicine has
been unable to cure degenerative and chronic illnesses such as cancer and heart disease
and has failed to offer relief from pain associated with conditions such as back and neck
injures, arthritis, and rheumatism (Anyinam, 1990; Inglis & West, 1983). Moreover, in
recent times we have witnessed the emergence of an increasing number of illnesses
known as iatrogenic diseases that are caused by the side effects of pharmaceutical drugs
and overprescription of substances such as antibiotics and antidepressants (e.g. see
Anyinam, 1990).
Sharma (1992) finds support for this thesis and reports that patients initially seek
alternative therapies in order to cure a health problem and alleviate a pain that GPs have
not been able to deal with effectively. Similarly, Furnham and Smith (1988) and
Furnham and Forey (1994) compare patients of GPs and patients of alternative
practitioners and show that the latter group is more sceptical of the efficacy of
conventional medicine. This conclusion was based on the responses of subject to
statements such as “Doctors relieve or cure only a few problems that their patients
have” and “Most people are helped a great deal when they go to a doctor.”
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Dissatisfaction with the medical encounter
Proponents of this argument suggest that people turn to alternatives not because of
dissatisfaction with health outcomes but because of dissatisfaction with doctor-patient
relationship (Easthope, 1993; Sharma, 1990; Taylor, 1985; Parker & Tupling, 1977). It
is argued that doctors have lost their human touch and spend too little time with their
patient. They take no initiatives to explain the nature of illnesses, diagnoses and
prognoses to patients. They have little respect for their clients and adopt a materialistic
instead of a service-oriented ideology. They opt for a doctor-centred pattern of
relationship instead of one that is characterised by mutual participation. Today’s
medicine can best be describe as Fordist medicine which emphasises quantity rather
than quality and produces alienated and dissatisfied patients.
There is some evidence in support of this explanation in the literature. Sharma’s

interviews with alternative therapist clients reveal that they believe GPs spend too little
time with patients (1992). Furnham and Forey (1994) also find that users of alterative
medicine are more likely to believe that general practitioners do not listen to what their
patients have to say.
The emergence of post-modern values
Proponents of this thesis argue that in the late modern era, a new value system has
emerged which offers new ideas about (a) nature, science and technology, (b) health, (c)
authority (d) individual responsibility, and (e) consumerism. Henceforth, I will refer to
these values as post-modern values (see Easthope, 1993; Bakx, 1991). It is the
congruence of these ideas with the philosophies and remedies of most alternative
therapies that is responsible for their recent growth and popularity. Alternative
practitioners commonly use natural and non-invasive treatments, espouse a holistic
view of health, allow patient participation in the process of healing (Aakster, 1989), and
stress that health comes from within the individual and it is ultimately the responsibility
of the individual to achieve a desired state of health (Coward, 1989).
(a) nature, science and technology

Coward (1989) contends that whereas in the past, as reflected in the works of Rousseau,
we equated nature with notions of the primitive society, savagery, aggression, violence
and survival of the fittest, today we view nature as gentle, caring, kind, benevolent, and
safe. We value consuming natural products and try to avoid preservatives and
colourings and other artificial ingredients in food. This value is also referred to by Bakx
(1991) who claims that the post-modern individual subscribes to a ‘green culture’,
views the human body as an extension of nature, and believes that ingesting chemical
drugs is tantamount to polluting nature with chemical waste.
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Just as nature is seen to be benevolent, so too science and technology are beginning to
be viewed as potentially harmful. Technology is regarded as tampering with and
transforming nature and creating invasive modes of patient treatment (Coward, 1989).
Kurz (1994) argues that we are witnessing a popular ‘growth of antiscience’ and a
suspicion of scientific fields such as biogenetic engineering, and biomedicine (see also
Park, 1996). Some predict that this trend will become more forceful and widespread in
the near future (Nicholson, 1993).
There is some empirical evidence in support of the relationship between the use of
alternative medicine and subscription to a green culture. Sharma (1992) shows that
those who choose alternative therapies are conscious of the side effects of drugs and
think that orthodox treatments are too invasive and aggressive. Similarly, Furnham and
Forey (1994) reveal that patients of alternative medicine are more likely to “exclude the
use of additives and preservatives” in their diets, “shop in health food shops”, and
“avoid taking prescription drugs.”
(b) health
Our beliefs about health has also been changing. Anyinam (1990) argues that there has
been a shift towards holistic health movements. People are starting to view health as
multifaceted involving an integration of body, mind and spirit. A prerequisite of good
health is harmony and balance between these elements. Health is innate within us and
can not be brought about by the use of medicine (Coward, 1989). Furnham and Smith
(1988) and Furnham and Forey (1994) provide evidence in support of the relationship
between these values about health and the use of alternative therapies. They show that
patients who use alternative therapies are less likely to believe that “treatment should
concentrate on symptoms rather than on the whole person” and more likely to believe
that the “body can help heal itself”.
(c) authority
Popular rejection of authority, especially scientific and professional authority, and
demand for participation is another factor contributing to the growth of alternative
medicine (Reiseman, 1994; Easthope, 1993; Taylor, 1984). Patients want to participate
in the process of healing and no longer accept the power differentials that exists
between them and their health practitioners. People want to have a more active part in
consultations and a chance to have an input in their own treatment (Caroll, 1994). In
support of the relationship between use of alternative medicine and attitudes toward
authority, Yates et al. (1993) show that people who use these services are more likely to
state that they “need to have control over the decisions made about the treatment” and
that they do not want to leave it up to the doctor to decide what is best for their illness.
Similarly, Furnham and Smith (1988) reveal that patients of alternative medicine, in
comparison to other patients, are more likely to want to leave their health “in the hands
of professionals”.
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(d) individual responsibility

The late modern era is characterised by a belief in individual responsibly and the
“supremacy of individuals over all forces” (Cassileth, 1989). People tend to believe that
it is ultimately the individual who is responsible for his/her health and that health
requires hard work, commitment and a change of lifestyle (Coward, 1989). This is
evident in the recent media and popular emphasis on diet, exercise, self-help strategies,
stress management and life style changes as avenues to good health. The empirical work
of Furnham and Forey (1994) provide evidence for the relationship between belief in
individual responsibility and use of alternative medicine. They show that users of
alternative therapies are more inclined to disagree with the statements “There is little
one can do to prevent illness” and agree with the statement “In the long run, people who
take care of themselves stay healthy and get well quickly.”
(e) consumerism
Consumerism is another trend that is argued to have been responsible for the recent
interest in alternative therapies which offer a range of modalities for people to choose
from (Reisman, 1994; Easthope, 1993; Bakx, 1991; Cassileth, 1989). Today, people are
more readily inclined to change their consumer choices to options that are more
satisfactory. This is evident in the area of health as notions of consumer advocacy,
political activism, and patient’s right have become part of the vocabulary of the
populace (Caroll, 1994). Thus far, the relationship between people’s consumerist
attitudes and their use of alternative medicine has not been empirically examined.
Hypotheses
Based on the above discussion, this paper tests the following hypotheses:
1. The medical outcome hypothesis: Individuals who are more dissatisfied with medical
outcomes are more likely to have a favourable attitude towards alternative medicine.
2. The medical encounter hypothesis: Individuals who are more dissatisfied with the
medical encounter are more likely to have a favourable attitude towards alternative
medicine.
3. The post-modern hypothesis: Individuals who hold post-modern values are more
likely to have a favourable attitude towards alternative medicine.
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Sample
The data used in this research are the result of a telephone survey of 209 non-
institutionalised adult residents in the 060 area code in Australia (Albury-Wodonga
region, north-east Victoria and an adjacent area in NSW). The proportion of females in
the sample is 68 percent and the average age and years of schooling completed is 45.7
and 12.9, respectively. Respondents were selected based on a two-stage probability
sampling technique. The first stage consisted of selecting a systematic sample of
telephone numbers from the White Pages. Using directories is justified in regions where
the proportion of unpublished telephone numbers is low. In the 060 area code, this
proportion is .067.
The second stage of sampling involved random selection of individuals using the ‘last-
birthday method’ (Salmon & Nichols, 1983; O’Rourke & Blair, 1983). In comparison to
other methods, such as the Kish method of random selection (Kish, 1995), the last-
birthday method yields higher response rates (Lavrakas, 1993) since it is short, direct
and non-intrusive. The present survey had a low refusal rate of 11.5 percent. The
interviews were structured and consisted of a set of Likert type attitudinal and belief
items as well as demographic questions.
Because of unequal household sizes, the elements in the sample have differential
probabilities of selection. Therefore, in the statistical analysis, for each element, I use a
weight proportional to the size of the household. The weights have a mean of unity so
that the tests of significance and confidence intervals will not be invalidated (see Czaja
& Blair, 1996).
Measurement
For the dependent and all independent variables, except anti-technology sentiment and
consumerism, multi-item scales were created. I used principal component analysis to
confirm scalability of items. Table 1 presents scale compositions and Chronbach
reliability coefficients. The values of each item are based on a 4-point Likert type scale
ranging from ‘strongly agree’ to ‘strongly disagree.’ The scores for each scale are the
average of the z-scores of the items composing that scale.
The dependent variable is attitude towards alternative medicine. This concept involves
attitudes towards both therapists and therapies. Alternative medicine in this research
predominantly refers to naturopathy, acupuncture, herbal medicine and chiropractic.
Individuals with higher scores on this scale have a more favourable attitude towards
alternative remedies and have a higher degree of trust in alternative therapists.
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Table 1: Scale Compositions and Reliability Coefficients
Attitude Towards Alternative Medicine (α=.77)

I think most alternative therapies do not work.
I would recommend alternative medicine to anyone of my friends who might get ill.
I would never use the services of alternative therapists.
I trust most alternative therapists
I think most alternative therapists are quacks.
Dissatisfaction With Medical Outcomes (α=.74)

I feel confident that doctors are able to cure most illnesses.
Doctors can rarely do much for sick people.
Many times doctors don’t help their patients get well.
I have very little confidence in the ability of most GPs to give correct diagnosis.
Doctors often overprescribe drugs.
I think conventional medicine is unable to treat a lot of illnesses.
Dissatisfaction With the Medical Encounter (α=.85)

Most doctors pay a lot of attention to the individual needs of their patients.
Most doctors have a lot of respect for their patients.
Most doctors listen carefully to their patients during consultations.
Most doctors do not give enough explanations to their patients.
Most doctors spend too little time with their patients.
Doctors have too much power over their patients.
Most doctors are too authoritative in their relationship with their patients.
Natural Remedies (α=.72)

I prefer natural remedies to chemical drugs.
Most prescription drugs have negative side effect.
Additives such as preservatives and artificial colouring are harmful to health.
Most prescription drugs obtained from pharmacies are effective.
I think it is necessary for people who are ill to take medications that doctors prescribe.
Without medications that doctors prescribe, illnesses can never be cured.
Anti-technology Sentiment
Technological progress creates an environment harmful to people.
Holism (α=.56)
Health is more than just keeping your body fit.
Health is about harmonising your body, mind and spirit.
Imbalances in a person’s life are the major causes of illnesses.
Treatments should concentrate only on symptoms rather than the whole person.
Rejection of Authority (α=.67)

Health practitioners should treat their patients as equals.
Patients should be able to have an input in what remedies health practitioners prescribe.
Health practitioners should ask for patient’s participation in the process of healing.
Patients should have some say over what goes on during consultations.
Health partitioners should act as authority figures in their relationship with patients.
Individual Responsibility (α=.45)

Achieving good health requires a change of lifestyle.
Achieving good health requires hard work and commitment.
We are what we are because of the choices that we make.
Consumerism
It’s good that nowadays we have so many different types of therapies to choose from.
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The scales that represent independent variables are as follows:

a) Dissatisfaction with medical outcome. Individuals with higher scores are more
dissatisfied with health outcomes of conventional medicine; they have less
confidence in the ability of doctors to cure illnesses.
b) Dissatisfaction with medical encounter. Individuals with higher scores are more
dissatisfied with the doctor-patient interaction patterns; they more strongly believe
that doctors do not listen to their patients, do not respect them, do not spend time
with them, and are too authoritative.
The next set of independent variables represent post-modern values:

c) Natural remedies. Individuals with high scores value natural remedies and have
misgivings about chemical and prescription drugs.
d) Anti-technology sentiment. Individuals with high scores believe technological
progress creates an environment harmful to human beings.
e) Holism. Individuals with high scores hold holistic health attitudes. They believe that
health results from a balance and harmony between body, mind and spirit and that
treatments should concentrate on the whole person.
f) Rejection of Authority. Individuals with high scores on this scale reject authority
exercised by health practitioners. These respondents believe that health practitioners
should treat their patients as equals and that patients should participate in the process
of healing.
g) Individual responsibility. Individuals with high scores on this scale stress the role of
the individual in maintaining health; they believe that achieving health requires
commitment and a change of lifestyle and that we are creatures of our own choices.
h) Consumerism. Individuals with high scores on this variable hold consumerist
attitudes and welcome variety in choice of therapy.
Control variables: Gender (0=male, 1=female), age (in years), and education (years
completed) are used as control variables.
Analysis and results
Table 3 presents results of regression analyses. Preliminary analyses do not show any
indications of heteroscedasticity and problematic multicollinearity. Ordinary least
squares is used to compute statistics presented in Table 3. Four sequential models are
estimated so that changes in significance levels and the amount of explained variance
can be assessed as each independent variable (or set of independent variables) is
included in the analysis. Model 1 only includes demographic variables. Model 2
includes the scale of dissatisfaction with the medical outcome. Model 3 includes the
scale of dissatisfaction with the medical encounter. Finally, Model 4 includes the scales
related to post-modern values. This model includes all independent variables and is
used to test research hypotheses.
Model 1, which includes gender, age and education, explains only 2 percent of the
variance in attitude towards alternative medicine. None of these
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variables have a significant impact on the dependent variable. Model 2, which includes
dissatisfaction with the medical outcome, results in an increase of 110 percent in the
amount of explained variance and accounts for 4.2 percent of the variation in attitudes
towards alternative medicine. This model shows that dissatisfaction with the medical
outcome has a significant impact on the dependent variable. Model 3 which includes
dissatisfaction with the medical encounter results in an increase of 90 percent in the
explanatory power of the previous model and accounts for 8 percent of the variation in
the dependent variable. It is important to note that once the effect of dissatisfaction with
the medical encounter is controlled for, the significant impact of dissatisfaction with the
medical outcome disappears. This supports the claim of those scholars (e.g. Easthope,
1993) who argue that the growth of alternative therapies is not due to the failure of
conventional medicine to enhance the health of the population but due to people’s
discontent with the doctor-patient relationship.
In Model 4, all of the scales of post-modern values are entered into the equation. This
results in a substantial 248 percent increase in the amount of variation explained in
attitude towards alternative medicine. This model accounts for 27.8 percent of the
variation in the dependent variable. The results do not support hypothesis 1;
dissatisfaction with medical outcome does not lead to favourable attitudes towards
alternative medicine. However, in support of hypothesis 2, it is shown that
dissatisfaction with the medical encounter has a significant positive impact on the
dependent variable.
Hypothesis 3 is mostly supported. Among scales of post-modern values, natural

remedies, anti-technology and consumerism have significant effects on the dependent
variable in the hypothesised direction. Those individuals who value natural remedies,
are against chemical drugs, do not favour technological progress, and welcome variety
in choice of therapy are more likely to have a positive attitude towards alternative
medicine. Scales of holism, rejection of authority, and individual responsibility do not
have any effect on the dependent variable; holding a holistic view of health, favouring a
less authoritative and more participative patient-practitioner relationship, and believing
in individual responsibility for attaining health does not contribute to a more positive
attitude towards alternative medicine.
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Table 2. Regression of attitudes towards alternative medicine

on dissatisfaction with conventional medicine and
post-modern values
Independent MODEL 1 MODEL 2 MODEL 3 MODEL 4
Variables Slope Beta Slope Beta Slope Beta Slope Beta
Gender -.110 -.090 -.118 -.096 -.077 -.063 .086 .070

(.086) (.086) (.084) (.080)
Age .004 .119 .005* .142 .003 .094 .002 .052

(.003) (.003) (.003) (.002)
Education -.015 -.089 -.013 -.081 -.012 -.072 .004 .022

(.013) (.012) (.012) (.012)
Dissatisfaction .172** .165 .027 .026 -.048 -.046

with Medical (.071) (.084) (.077)
Outcome
Dissatisfaction .247** .253 .141* .144

with Medical (.079) (.076)
Encounter
Natural .160* .131

Remedies (.086)
Anti-technology .207* .193

Sentiment (.068)
Holism .089 .091

(.070)
Rejection of -.031 -.034

Authority (.062)
Individual -.097 -.111

Responsibility (.055)
Consumerism .576** .397

(.088)
Intercept -.029 -.086 -.049 -1.705
Degrees of 205 204 203 197

Freedom
R2 .034 .061 .104 .316
Adjusted R2 .020 .042 .080 .278
SEE .568 .561 .549 .487
Note: Standard errors are reported in parentheses.

** p<.01, one-tailed test.
* p<.05, one-tailed test.
114
In order to assess the relative importance of the set of scales related to post-modern
values, on the one hand, and dissatisfaction with the medical encounter, on the other, I
use commonality analysis. That is, I estimate the unique contribution of each
component of the regression model by computing the amount of variance attributed to
that component when it is entered last in the equation. If we designate the dependent
variable as ‘Y’, the scale of dissatisfaction with the medical encounter as ‘variable 1’,
the set of scales related to post-modern values as ‘variable 2’, and all other variables
jointly as ‘variable 3’ the unique contributions will be calculated as follows:
U(1)=R2y.123 - R2y.23
U(2)= R2y.123 - R2y.13
where U(1)=unique contribution of variable 1; U (2)=unique contribution of variable 2;

R2y.123 = the (adjusted) amount of variance in Y accounted for by variables 1,2 and 3;
R2y.23 = the (adjusted) amount of variance in Y accounted for by variables 2 and 3;
and R2y.13 =the (adjusted) amount of variance in Y accounted for by variables 1 and 3.
Replacing each term in the above formulae by the appropriate R2 results in the
following figures:
U(1)=.279 - .269=.010
U(2)=.279 - .080=.199
These results show that the unique contribution of dissatisfaction with the medical
encounter is only 1 percent whereas that of post-modern values is 19.9 percent. This is a
substantial difference and points to the fact that the set of post-modern values, in
comparison to dissatisfaction with conventional medicine, is by far a better predictor of
attitudes towards alternative medicine.
Discussion and conclusion
Research in alternative medicine and the reasons people turn to it is closely tied to the
notion of sustainability. To the extent that alternative medicine present a paradigmatic
shift away from the conventional scientific medicine and to the extent that it advocates
natural remedies, patient participation, non-invasive and non-technological treatments,
it should be viewed as an integral part of sustainability. It is in this spirit that I hope the
reader has received this research. An additional element of this work that places it in the
core of discussions of sustainability is its emphasis on values. The significance of
values is expounded by Engel and Engel (1992) in Ethics of Environment and
Development. They highlight the importance of recognising values and ethics of
sustainability and call for understanding of moral codes of cultures that determine the
relationship of human beings to
115
one another and to the environment. Values lie at the heart of paradigm shifts. “The
emerging paradigm of sustainable development” (Jacobs et al., 1987) questions the most
basic worldview and values of society which rests on conventional scientific thinking.
Accordingly, the present paradigm of scientific medicine is being challenged by the
growth and popularity of alternative therapies.
The major contribution of this research to the nascent field of sociology of alternative
medicine has been its theory-guided empirical and multivariate nature. Based on
responses of a random sample of respondents to a large battery of questions, I have
tested three competing hypotheses that explain why people turn to alternative medicine:
the medical outcome, the medical encounter, and the post-modern hypothesis. I have
shown that the latter two hypotheses hold ground and that the emergence of post-
modern values, compared to dissatisfaction with the medical encounter, provides a
better explanation for the popularity of alternative medicine. A discussion of these and
other conclusions will follow.
Three major conclusions can be highlighted based on the results of this research. First,
demographic variables, gender, age and education (a proxy for socioeconomic position),
do not have an impact on attitudes towards alternative medicine and explain only a
negligible amount of variation in this variable. Even at the bivariate level, these variable
are not associated with attitudes; attitude towards alternative medicine is evenly
distributed between females and males and among members of various age and socio-
economic groups.
Second, dissatisfaction with health outcomes of conventional medicine does not impact
on people’s attitudes towards alternatives. It is rather dissatisfaction with the medical
encounter that leads to a favourable attitude towards alternatives. People turn away
from orthodoxy not because of its failure to deliver the promise of good health, but
because of the way they are treated by doctors. This is true regardless of the values to
which people subscribe, since the effect of the medical encounter remains significant
after post-modern values are controlled for. People tend to favour alternatives because
they think doctors have little respect for them, do not give them enough time, do not
listen to them, act too authoritatively, and do not give them a chance to actively
participate in the process of healing. In short, the loss of the human touch of doctors and
the power differential in the medical encounter is part of the reason for the growth of
alternative medicine.
Third, and most importantly, this research has shown that holding post-modern values is
the major explanation for people’s favourable attitudes towards alternative medicine.
Those who value natural remedies, do not believe in chemical drugs prescribed by
doctors, believe that technological developments create an environment harmful to
people, and hold consumerist values are likely to favour alternative medicines. Thus,
the findings of this research gives most support to those theorists (e.g. Coward, 1989)
who argue for the emergence of a new philosophy as the major
116
explanation for the rise of alternative medicine. This new philosophy and value system
is not likely to wane. On the contrary, the green culture, emphasis on natural foods,
consumerism and the awareness of the ill effects of technology are becoming more
widespread and thus we can expect further growth and popularity of alternative
therapies in the future.
Finally, I wish to state the weaknesses of this work and point to future research
directions. First, this research examines the determinants of ‘attitudes’ towards
alternatives. The paper does not examine ‘actual behaviour’. Although, studying
attitudes is important in its own right, and also one expects to find a large degree of
congruence between attitudes and behaviour, the examination of behaviour proper
provides a more valid investigation of the reasons for the growth of alternative
medicine. Second, the study was not conducted in a very large and populated area. The
target population could be expanded to include the whole Victorian and New South
Wales population, so that the results would be more generalisable and would allow an
examination of regional and metropolitan/non-metropolitan differences in patterns of
alternative medicine use. Third, as it is true for all cross-sectional research, my work
can not confidently specify causal relationships. Longitudinal analysis is better suited
for discovering causal links. No longitudinal data set relevant to an investigation of the
determinants of people’s use of alternative medicine exists in Australia. However, at the
aggregate state and national level, I can envisage some possibilities. Telephone books
and directories of membership in associations such as Australian Traditional Medicine
Society and Australian Natural Therapy Association can provide time series data
regarding the number of alternative practitioners for several consecutive years.
Dissatisfaction with orthodox medicine for each year can be measured using data on
malpractice suits and other legal documents. To such an analysis, one can add other
variables such as disease distribution, demographic composition and the cost of medical
care which are hypothesised to have an impact on the growth of alternative medicine
(Salmon, 1984).
117
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PART 2:
SUSTAINING JUSTICE
121
122
Law enforcement in rural New South Wales:
9 preliminary findings about the

ecology of policing
Patrick C. Jobes
Introduction
Being a policeman has probably never been without strains (Bittner, 1990). Recent
changes in social structure in Australia in general and in rural New Wales in particular
have modified the nature of both crime and law enforcement. This paper describes
difficulties endemic to performing the role of a rural police officer. The role has
persistent tensions that statistically are present under any circumstance (Goldstein,
1990). Additional dynamic changes are imposing strains on rural police, as well as
initiating adaptations to the persistent qualities of their occupational role (Skolnick &
Bayley, 1986).
The observations and descriptions are based on personal interviews with law
enforcement officers in rural policing districts in northern New South Wales conducted
by the author in 1996 and 1997. Police described how changes in structures in which
they work are simultaneously altering the nature of crime and their own effectiveness as
law enforcers. The author has organised their responses into the POET human
ecological perspective for the sake of heuristic efficiency (Duncan & Schnore, 1959).
The findings are preliminary. The data were collected during the initial phase of a
qualitative analysis of rural social problems in rural New South Wales.
The research setting
Rural interior (as distinct from coastal) New South Wales is among the least densely
settled agricultural regions in the intermediate latitudes. The population primarily
resides in small towns and agricultural properties. Except for a few scenic/recreational
developments, the region has gradually been losing population since the 1950s, because
of technological efficiency. As in other locations, attendant centralisation and
consolidation of services have exacerbated the loss in spite of new agricultural and
other natural resources developments (Fichten, 1991).
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Research on crime in rural Australia, including the study region, has been relatively
limited (O’Connor & Gray, 1989). The area has recently received special attention
because of special problems, particularly suicide, spouse abuse and automobile
fatalities, which have been interpreted as responses to the collapsing agricultural
economy and the ensuing out-migration of population. Rural crimes in Australia
(Devery, 1993), as in most industrialised nations, are comparatively low (Clinard, 1944;
Wilkinson, 1984). However, particular rural towns have comparatively high rates
(Bachman, 1992).
The environmental setting of the study area is extremely diverse, ranging from
mountains and tablelands to river valleys and plains. The production systems within the
region are correspondingly mixed. Grazing of cattle and sheep occurs throughout the
region. Farming of dry and irrigated lands is widespread. Mining, ranging from one-
person gemstone mines through large scale industrial extraction occurs where there are
pockets of minerals. Natural recreational activities are widespread. Despite the notable
qualities of these environmental characteristics, rural Australia employs and retains
sparse, often declining, populations, qualities common to other technologically
advanced societies during this stage of capitalism (Buttel & Newby, 1980). Crime and
responses by law enforcement officers will be discussed within this environment, as a
causal setting.
Theory
Two general sets of issues are relevant to this analysis. The first relates to the role of
rural policing, per se. The second relates to the special nature of rural areas, as
communities. Each of these issues has its own pertinent literature. The issues also are
interrelated. They converge because the special natures of rural communities define the
conditions in which rural police do their jobs (Harries, 1971). The more gemeinschaft,
the greater is the potential conflict between the roles of law enforcer and good
neighbour. On the other hand, the more gemeinschaft, the greater is the consensus about
law abiding behaviour and law enforcement (Reiss & Tonry, 1986). When gemeinschaft
is high and consensus favours law enforcement, then the occasions for role conflict, and
the impossibility of the job, are minimised. If gemeinschaft is high and consensus is
ambivalent or opposed to the police, then the job is tough, truly impossible.
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Review of the literature
Issues related to policing in rural areas
Glidewell and Hargrove (1990) contend that some positions of service can be classified
as ‘impossible jobs’. Jobs become impossible when persons providing a service can not
effectively achieve the broadly idealised goal associated with their employment because
of the uncooperative nature of their clients. For example, drug counselling is an
impossible job because counsellors cannot achieve an ideal of a drug-free environment
because most addicts avoid or pay little heed to their counsel. Policing is among the
most ubiquitous established impossible job professions (Moore, 1990).
Probably all service professions have some component of impossibility. Some students
refuse to study for teachers. Some indigent people avoid work to the consternation of
employment counsellors. Some patients refuse to follow the prescriptions of physicians.
Two factors distinguish truly impossible work from these examples. The first pertains to
the proportion and the intensity of non compliance of the clients within the social
environment in which they work. Specific types of teachers, employment counsellors
and physicians work in situations that have high proportions of uncooperative clients.
However, most students begrudgingly study, most indigents follow up real job
possibilities, and most patients take their medicines, drink plenty of liquids and get lots
of rest. The second factor that distinguishes truly impossible work pertains to the
broader definitional social system of ideological and organisational support beyond the
client. This context is composed of the degree of shared approval and support among
the population of clients. Most people believe students should study, capable
unemployed people should be able to find work and curable sick people should try to
get well. This second factor combines both cognitive and moral components. The
population being served recognises a structure in which the activity occurs and believes
the rules inherent in that structure should be followed (Sampson, 1985).
The impossibility of the job of a police officer, particularly a rural police officer in
some communities in rural New South Wales, can be understood by considering the
nature of their particular service role, the characteristics of their population and sub
populations of clients, the broader social system of support, and the degree of
community that exists in the place where the officer serves (Hagan, 1989). One reason
for the impossibility of policing occurs because of the multi-faceted nature of the role
(Kelling, Wasserman & Williams, 1988). Law enforcement is the primary function
within policing that makes the job impossible. Law enforcement is one purpose, among
many purposes, of the more diffuse role of policing (Swanson, Territo & Taylor, 1988).
Non-law enforcement activities include assisting during emergencies, providing
community education, assisting with youth programs, and special events and traffic
control. The non-law enforcement services of the police, while sometimes regarded as
superfluous, are often
125
helpful and occasionally heroic. These generally meet little opposition and help to
establish the police officer as good citizen (Earle, 1980). They may even help to reduce
crime or allow quicker responses to actual law enforcement needs in some instances
(Wilkins, 1982).
Crimes sometimes occur in unexpected non-law enforcement situations, such as a

rescue mission. Crimes occur more frequently during fairly routine and predictable
situations, occasioning a mixing of non-law enforcement and law enforcement activities
(Cohen & Felson, 1979). Some situations are extremely contentious which,
exemplifying the impossibility of the role because of the lack of broad structural
support from the broader community. Two officers described special difficulties they
experienced each year during the annual shire festival. During these events, the flows of
both traffic and liquor increase appreciably. Controlling for traffic and crowd control
simultaneously forces police to encounter problems associated with drunkenness. The
public spirit often is more sympathetic to people, ‘having a good time’, especially if
they are spending money in the community, than it is toward the enforcement of the
law.
The impossibility of policing also occurs in the pure enforcement of the law, where
minimal mixing occurs between the various service functions of the officer
(Rosenbaum, 1988). The conscious criminal trades wits with the police, attempting to
evade detection and capture. Realistically, based on the low probability of being caught
and punished for any particular violation, criminals usually are successful. In such
instances, the public may be largely supportive of the police, but the tracks of the
criminal are so well hidden, that the police are ineffective. Most crime is less conscious
and less effectively covered up. Even when both the crime and the criminal are
transparent, they may still be impossible to prevent or to respond to with community
approval (Wilson, 1981). Apparently senseless non-utilitarian crime by drunk and angry
people is recurring, never completed work. Destructive antagonistic crimes by young
people are often excused or rationalised by community residents (Harring, 1983). In
either case, the police are subject to the unenviable position of being marginally
effective and appreciated (Sampson & Groves, 1989).
Issues related to rural community and crime
Rural social problems, have been generally relegated to a backwater status in both
funding and research (Summers, 1991). Relatively little research on social problems and
crime has been conducted in rural areas. This is in contrast to the considerable literature
on urban areas (Bachman, 1992; Kowalski & Duffield, 1990). Rural areas have
persistently been observed to display less deviant behaviour than urban areas, largely
because they have been interpreted to have greater social cohesion (Schrag, 1971).
Moreover, the relationship between migration and social problems has received little
analysis in rural or urban settings. Crutchfield et al (1982) found that migrants are more
likely to commit crimes. Gold’s (1987) review of the
126
literature on ecological factors and delinquency demonstrates the paucity of analyses of

social problems on rural communities.
This research is not merely about rural crime and policing; it pertains to broader and
more universal processes within the society. Sociologists do not agree on the
importance of rural for explaining human behaviour. Dewey (1960), maintains the
concept, rural, ineffectively explains most behaviour. Goudy (1990) counters that rural
validly and reliably accounts for a variety of behaviour and attitudes. Bell (1992) argues
that rural residence provides a foundation for identity.
The selection of the towns is important for several reasons. The small amount of
research documenting rural crime generally treats rural as a residual category. For
example, the summary article on crime in a leading Australian text essentially ignores
rural crime (Hazlehurst & Braithwaite, 1994). Small towns are typically analysed as a
single category, ignoring differences among small towns that may determine levels of
social cohesion and integration, which help socialise residents from being socially
problematic. The towns in which interviews were collected vary from under five
hundred residents to approximately forty thousand. Smaller towns, other factors being
the same, facilitate personally knowing, recognising, and interacting with other
relatively homogeneous residents, that is be cohesive and integrated. At the same time,
unfamiliar people are more easily identified and scrutinised.
Small towns also vary in their economic bases. The sample distinguishes towns with
agricultural from those with scenic/recreational/retirement economies. Agriculture is the
multigenerational base of work and income in most rural Australian communities.
Furthermore, dry land, small grain agricultural areas have fewer tourist and recreational
attractions. Scenic/recreational/retirement areas, which capitalise on land development
sales, tourism and services, lack stabilising forces of persistent land ownership and use
(Williams & Jobes, 1990). Non agricultural towns lack the stable personal familiarity
within a predictable community that establishes cohesion and integration (Jobes, 1991).
Informal social factors may be most important in rural areas because of their propensity
for familiar, personal, face-to-face, interaction (Belyea & Zigraff, 1988). Some
offences, such as livestock theft and poaching, are primarily rural (Alfano & Magill,
1976, Cleland, 1990). Crime rates have been increasing slightly more rapidly in rural
areas (Jamieson & Flanagan, 1989). Following Durkheim (1933), Wilkinson (1984)
noted moral density in rural areas suppresses crime. The bedrock of rural social
structure, social cohesion, pervades all institutions: family, religion, property
ownership, school participation, and voluntary association. The classic tradition also
persists in control theory (Gottfredson & Hirschi, 1990).
Cohesion as used in this research resembles Freudenberg’s hypothesis that size,

diversity, segregation, length of residence, and anticipated length of residence cause
density of acquaintanceship, which in turn determine
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control of deviance (Freudenberg & Jones, 1986). Some rural settings clearly lack much
integration and cohesion under particular conditions, such as natural disaster (Erikson,
1976) or rapid development (Freudenberg & Jones, 1991). Boom towns, being
migratory, sometimes lose control of deviance. Face-to-face familiarity among a
relatively small number of residents interacting within a limited set of norms, is
conducive to cohesion (Willits et al., 1990). Behaviour, especially by newcomers,
which might go unnoticed in a city may lead to fear and to arrest in rural areas
(Krannich, Greider & Little, 1985).
Methodology
The observations in this report are drawn from structured open-ended interviews with
nine police officers in rural towns within the Peele District, headquartered in Tamworth,
NSW during 1996-1997. The nine towns in which the officers were working had
populations ranging from approximately 500 residents to 40,000. Six of the nine towns
had fewer than 7,000 residents. Officers were selected according to who was on duty at
the time the author would be in town. Although advance telephone calls were made to
explain the nature of the project and to schedule the interview, in three cases the
policeman on duty did not remember having been notified of the interview. This
systematic approach to avoid any predetermination of respondents is a randomising
technique for drawing the sample.
The interview schedule was one developed by the author during previous research
investigating social problems in rural areas of the western United States that were
geographically, economically and demographically similar to the Peele District. The
schedule was composed of four parts. Part A was devoted to questions specifically
related to crime and policing. First, what were the most common types of crime and the
range of the seriousness of crime in the community? Second, how much of a problem
police regarded crime in that community to be in comparison to the other rural towns in
the district? Third, what were the three most common problems they faced as law
enforcement officers? Fourth, what particular, idiosyncratic crime problems their town
experienced? Part B inquired about whether migration was associated with local crime
and law enforcement. It asked whether migration was above, below or average for rural
NSW. It also asked whether crime increased or decreased with migration activity in the
town and whether migrants were more or less likely than local residents to commit
crimes. Part C inquired about special problems of being a law enforcement officer in
that town at this time. Respondents were also asked what they liked and disliked most
about being a police officer in that town at that time. Social and demographic
information was collected in Part D.
Nondirective interviewing techniques were employed to probe responses. Respondents

were asked only the base questions. The author responded to all answers affirmatively
but without agreeing. He noted the responses by nodding his head saying, ‘I see.’, or a
similar neutral comment. Probes were
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limited to requests for more information about subjects already broached by the
respondent. This project relied upon a grounded theoretical perspective (Glaser &
Strauss, 1967). The concepts unfolded out of the raw data from interviews.
The POET system of Duncan and Schnore has been utilised for organising the
information concerning structural characteristics and changes that describe the
community and society. Factors that are increasing or decreasing the amount of crime in
the community and factors that are assisting or reducing the effectiveness of police in
the community are reported in this heuristic framework. POET is an acronym for
Population, Organisation, Environment and Technology, variables which Duncan and
Schnore maintain form the ecological complex. Each of these variables is present in
every situation. One value of describing observations and behaviours from the POET
perspective is that the system is inclusive. Essentially all structural, that is objective,
characteristics can be described through this perspective. The variables, themselves,
each pertains to a significant dimension affecting behaviour, thus meriting examination.
What is more important for the purposes of this study, the respondents spoke in these
terms, or terms close to them, making the categorisation more valid.
The interpretive context in which crime is committed and law enforcement occurs is a
more subjective dimension of the society and community. Society and community
support or fail to support, that is, interpret, the law and law enforcers. The interpretive
dimension is distinguished from the structural because that dimension was frequently
mentioned by police officers. References to judgements being made by members of the
society or of the community are reported as the interpretive context.
Findings
Characteristics of respondents
Respondents were demographically very homogeneous. All respondents were

Caucasian men between 31 and 56 years old. Their mean age was 41. They had been
policemen for between 3 years and 29 years, and had a mean of 11 years of service.
Four had grown up in large cities, but only two had served in urban areas, except in
their training assignments. All had graduated from high school, but only one from
university. Another was nearing completion of a university degree. Two were single.
Seven were married or in committed relationships. Most had moved several times
during their law enforcement careers, though usually in the same area.
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Population
Population is the most immediate cause of crime. Simply put, as Plato’s final cause, ‘no
people, no crime’. The equation is obviously more complex. The distribution,
composition and changes that describe a population are important factors in the
causation of crime. The officers who were interviewed were attuned to these facts and
were sensitive to the problems they experienced in their work.
Changes in the local population were reported to be causing problems by most of the
police officers. Rural areas, by definition, have sparse populations. Much, if not most,
crime is solved because someone has observed or has heard about the crime. As
population density declines, as in remote areas, observation of crimes declines.
Population loss also increases the vulnerability of some properties, making them
relatively easier marks. Homesteads that no longer have residents are easy prey for
thieves. Often filled with antiques, they create a target for criminals. Livestock and
equipment thefts are similarly facilitated by lowering population size and density.
Respondents also reported that an influx of population also contributes to problems of

rural law enforcement. Among the very few rapidly growing rural areas, newcomers
were reported as especially likely to violate the law. The most identified category of
migrants was Aboriginal. In three communities with new settlements of Aboriginals,
police officers bluntly said that the relocation of aboriginal populations had increased
the amount of crimes reported to the police. They also said that Aboriginal people often
reported crimes but refused to press charges. One officer said, “We have to do the most
dangerous activity an officer can do, go to someone’s house to make an arrest. We often
encounter abuse. Then, the charges are dropped. It undermines the respect for the law
and makes our jobs more difficult in the future.” An officer from one of the higher
crime rural towns in NSW said, “Most of the time I am called ‘out of town’, (author’s
note: to an aboriginal project) I act as a referee. I try to make sure nobody seriously
injures anybody else. I keep the door in the car open in case somebody wants to escape.
The officers also pointed out that the settlement pattern, itself, was somewhat
responsible for the problems. “They are thrown together in that one place. It creates a
wall between them and the rest of the town. When we are called out, it is usually to the
same places (households). And, we are called out by other Aboriginals. They call on us
more than any other element of the town.” In another small town, an officer said there
had been no increase in crime as Aboriginals moved there, because there was no
settlement. Instead, the new comers moved into available housing, dispersed through
out town.
Several authors pointed out that what has appeared to be a crime wave in town, has
been the work of only one or two people, who usually are new-
130
comers to town. One said he could predict when the next rash of break and enters would
occur. “As soon as (X) is released from gaol, he will move back here, and there will
immediately be ‘b & e’s (break and enters) in town and in (a town nearby). The
violations will stop as soon as there is enough evidence to charge him, and he is sent
back to gaol”.
Environment
Environment, along with population is a key ecological variable, even for non-human
species. Humans, of course, interact continually with the environment through how they
organise their activities and how they employ technology. Consequently, the
environment changes as a result of humans, and as it changes, forces the humans,
themselves, to adapt. As a result of this complex feedback process, it is useful to
consider two types of environmental conditions. The first is the ambient environment,
the structure of nature without human influence. The second is the constructed
environment, the structure as it is fabricated and operated by humans. Both are
important influences on rural policing.
Ambient environment sets broad limits on economic activities, hence, the size of a
population that can be supported. Several officers described variations on the single
theme of how the unpredictable and lengthy droughts made both dry land farming and
even grazing tenuous in much of western NSW. Environment is directly related to
crimes based around agriculture. “Stock theft is the most commonly reported crime in
the rural areas near here. Graziers often don’t believe there is much point in reporting it.
Some of the time when they do report missing stock, I suspect they are working an
insurance claim.” Given the strict population policies in Australia, the ambient
environment offers little to attract or sustain more than a skeleton population. The
sparse size and extractive nature of employment are consequences of high technology
extractive industries, including agriculture. The constructed environment expands or at
least modifies the capacity of the area to support a population. All officers gave at least
one example of how changes in the constructed environment had led to problems in
their work.
“The crime rate here follows what is happening with agriculture.”, reported an officer in
a wheat and cotton growing area. “When there is plenty of work, there is very little
crime, except for public disturbances on Saturday night. When the drought was on,
people were laid off and businesses were boarded up. People were bored and anxious.
Theft and simple assaults increased, even as the town became smaller.” Many of the
reported assaults involved domestic violence.
The weather, which is one element of the environment, was mentioned by police
working in towns with distinct seasonal fluctuations in the local economy. One officer
in an orchard and vineyard area said crimes increased when temporary labourers came
to town during harvest. Another officer in a town near a popular national park, reported
that public disturbances
131
increase during the holidays and on the weekends, as free-spirited tourists let off steam
at the local pubs. Although generally limited to offences like public drunkenness and
simple assault, the violations occasionally were more serious. “Two years ago a tourist
killed a bloke he had met that afternoon. They settled their differences outside the hotel.
He hit the bloke so hard he never regained consciousness”.
The constructed environment also was mentioned by respondents as a source of

problems to rural policing, both as locations were vacated or constructed. The vacating
of established locations was mentioned by several officers. As farmers move away from
their properties, the buildings often are left unattended for weeks or months. They
become easy prey for thieves, especially antique thieves. One farmer who had moved to
town recognised some of his family furniture loaded in a truck parked in front of a local
antique dealer. The thief was selling the stolen goods when the officer, whom the alert
farmer notified, made the arrest. There were fewer examples of newly constructed
environments leading to policing problems. Officers in one small town reported a
nearby gaol was a continual source of problems. Family members of inmates, while
generally law-abiding, contributed disproportionately to local crimes, especially crimes
related to drugs. A similar example was given in a small town near a nationally known
feral colony. The officer said that without the drug-related arrests of people travelling to
and from the commune, there would be little local crime.
Technology
Technology affects policing in two general ways. First, technology affects the
commission of crime. Changes in technology can alter the local environment, thus
indirectly causing crime. Criminals may use new technologies in the commission of
crimes. Second, technology changes the way in which police can effectively respond to
crime. Rural areas are susceptible and sensitive to technological changes that stimulate
or depress the local economy and population growth. The oldest officer interviewed
recollected that years ago, when large crews providing seasonal labour for the local
grazing properties, there had been temporary increases in assaults. Now that much of
the labour is mechanised, such seasonal labour crime increases hardly occur.
Rural policing is apparently less affected by higher technology than urban areas might
be, either as a cause or solution of crime. Some ubiquitous more recent higher tech
crimes were reported, especially credit card violations. Two-way radios and scanners
were used by stock thieves, according to two officers. No sophisticated high technology
violations were mentioned.
Officers talked openly, and for the most part critically, about new crime solving
technologies. Except for one very modern high ranking administrator and a the
youngest officer interviewed, most felt neutral or negative about computers. The
administrator had recently moved to his post from a much larger city. He adroitly
demonstrated the efficiency of the policing computer network to me, calling up the
listing and distribution of
132
crimes in the district. The young policeman was a computer buff who also was enrolled
as an external undergraduate student in sociology.
Most other officers agreed computers were a useful and essential tool of law
enforcement, but not for them. The most usual criticism was that computers had
increased the amount of ‘paper work’, without increasing their own effectiveness to
prevent or to solve crimes. Computers are a technology in their own right, requiring
training and knowledge that many felt they lacked. They didn’t work with computers
enough to access their unique abilities. “Most of our crimes are solved by word of
mouth. We depend upon people telling us who committed the crimes. Establishing that
trust requires being out in the country, talking with people, letting people know we are
here and can be trusted. I like that kind of work. I like living here because I don’t have
much interest in those kinds of things (computers)”.
Organisation
Social organisation is the most definitive characteristic of humans. Social organisation

is roughly divided into two ideal-typical categories, formal organisation and informal
organisation. Formal organisation refers to secondary social interaction that occurs in a
context of defined goals and rules for achieving them. Local formal organisations often
are branches of larger institutions, such as the school system and the churches. Informal
organisation refers to primary interaction that occurs in personal contexts, somewhat
independent of formal organisations. Policemen spoke of how both kinds of
organisation created problems for them, as law enforcers. The important contribution of
organisation often becomes most obvious when uses of the environment and the
distribution of the population change.
Formal social organisation often is most recognisable as the location where institutional
activities occur. The examples of the gaol and the commune both illustrate how social
organisation often is identified with a constructed environment. Similarly, the sporadic
closing of a feed lot created temporary local upheavals and an atmosphere of depression
and alienation, according to one officer. The result was drunkenness, fighting, and
family abuse.
The most widespread and frequently mentioned problem, shared by policemen in

several small towns, was related to their dual roles as law enforcer and local resident.
This problem was mentioned across a variety of contexts and was an issue that officers
wanted to talk about. “There are a couple of Aboriginal youths who refuse to wear
bicycle helmets. They know I see them when they are out riding. I have told them that
wearing a helmet is the law. If I enforce the law more than that, it will only cause more
friction between the Aboriginals and the law. I do my best to avoid confrontations. It is
a fine line, and it is demoralising as a policeman. The white people in the community
know they are expected to obey the law. Whatever I do, will create a problem for the
police.”
133
Another officer spoke of always being expected to be an upstanding role model. “On a
Friday or Saturday night, I would like to be down there shooting snooker and drinking a
few beers. Instead, I am up here on duty. I know that I may have to perform an official
duty against the same people I might be socialising with.” Another mentioned how
being a policeman affected his family in every law enforcement activity he performed.
“The people I arrest may be the parents or relatives of kids my children go to school
with or play football with. I enforce the law as peacefully and informally as I can. It
works out best for everyone” Still another said, “I depend on these people to provide me
with information to enforce he law. If they don’t trust me, I can’t do my job. Every little
town has its own standards. (He had worked in four regional towns.) I have to turn the
other way every once in a while, though never for anything very serious.”
The interviews indicated that officers often believe that the broader society and some
elements of their local communities are increasingly critical of effective policing.
Police and theories of crime
Criminologists are theorists of crime. They have spawned a variety of competing

explanations of the causes of criminal behaviour. Criminological theories are, ideally,
logically constructed, systematic, empirically verifiable, parsimonious, propositions
which explain why crime occurs. As with other social theories, they also are classical,
in the sense that they form the conceptual corpus of the field, humanistic and critical
(Zetterberg, 1965). General criminological theories each attempt to account for the
entirety of crime. Substantive criminology theories range across a spectrum of particular
types of crime, such as embezzling or prostitution. The surfeit of theories has created a
bewildering and contentious maze of explanations. It is little wonder that no
respondents mentioned the word theory, let alone referred to the litany of types of
theories.
Police officers are practitioners (Toch & Grant, 1991). They draw upon broad and
varied knowledge and experience to respond to crime. The distinction between theory
and practice related to law enforcement became evident during the interviews. No
preconceived questions regarding theoretical orientations were asked of respondents.
While police officers did not refer to theory, per se, they spoke frequently about how
they drew upon general explanations of behaviour to enforce the law. As practitioners,
these police were pragmatists, probabilists concerned with how to get the job done in a
fairly efficient manner. Cognisant of their limitations, they discussed the knowledge
that they believed aided or interfered with enforcing the law. These explanations
articulated their understanding of causal forces. Their job, given the intrinsic conflicts
of the role as rural policeman, was to enforce the law. None questioned the efficacy of
the social or justice systems.
No policemen launched into weighty discussions of class struggle or hegemony. Those

are abstractions constructed and reified by theorists
134
(Quinney, 1977). Still, the officers were sensitive to class distinctions and the angry
minority. “When a call for assistance comes to the station, in fifty percent of the cases it
is from the same two blocks. The rest of the time we rarely patrol there. They don’t
want us there unless they need us.” Sensitivity to a primitive feminist theory came
through when respondents mentioned family abuse, much of which was directed against
women and children. Women as criminals, however were essentially irrelevant. Only
two cases involving women criminals were even mentioned. From a practical
standpoint, crime is an activity of men. As practitioners, police were attuned to the
probable and practical.
The most common explanations were very similar to routine activity and social
disorganisation theories. “Things are usually pretty slow until about ten o’clock on
Friday and Saturday nights. Around one o’clock people coming out of the hotel often
create a disturbance.” “During the fair there is more than we can keep up with. We all
work double shifts.” The officers anticipate when, where and, to a lesser extent who
will cause whatever problem that comes to their attention.
Much of the time rural officers are called to be good Samaritans, helping in family
tragedies and accidents. More often, they are called for disturbances, only a few of
which are serious crimes. However, as law enforcers, they know that however
improbable, some risk is present in every action they take. Most police officers related
an example of when they had been surprised by a dangerous event when they were not
expecting it. The fear of the unexpected is a predisposition of policing, leading to a
rejection of more general theory. Minimising risk and maximising effectiveness
depends on knowing the relative importance of a diverse set of causal factors and on
being able to interpret how these are pertinent and interact with each other in the
context of a particular situation. Their lives depend on not taking any theory as a sole
gospel.
Social theory, as a set of abstract concepts, was rarely mentioned by police officers,
though they clearly understood the principles behind the theories. Theory, per se, was
not problematic to most respondents. The notable exception was their cynicism and
anger regarding what criminologists refer to as critical theory. While never using that
name, most officers spoke directly about how critical disapproval of police activities by
intellectuals and social activists was often ignorant and undeserved. The police were
supposed to enforce the law and provide public service, according to respondents.
Criticisms by outsiders that law enforcement was biased and interfered with their ability
to perform their jobs. “The colour of most of the people we charge is about the colour of
my boots. (He pointed to his pair of R. M. William’s.) That is a fact. But, when I make
an arrest, I don’t care if the suspect is black, white, brown or yellow. Saying that police
are prejudiced in the administration of the law provides the criminals with a ready made
excuse of their innocence. That line of reasoning makes the criminals into victims who
are no longer responsible for their crimes. It also creates and reinforces a lack of respect
for police within their group.” The police officers were generally sympathetic to the
plight of the
135
underprivileged, whether suffering farmers, unemployed abattoir workers or resettled

Aboriginals. They also were in their communities to enforce the law. Theoretical
criticisms concerning the moral validity of law and of the place of law enforcement,
created a serious problem for carrying out that task.
Summary and conclusion
Rural law enforcement is surrounded by changing conditions that are exacerbating the
already problematic role of rural policeman. Police officers are cognisant of these
factors that have been described within a human ecological perspective. Rural policing,
which is based upon community knowledge and support, is the ideal-typical form of
community policing. Policemen described a variety of ways that crime and their ability
to enforce the law are based upon the local environment, population, social organisation
and technology. From their perspectives, these ecological factors act both as influential
factors of crime and for responding to crime. The ecology of crime and of policing is
altered as these factors are changing.
Enforcement of the law contributes only one set of problems confronting rural police.
Accommodation to the conflicting expectations of law enforcer and community resident
contributes another set (Reiner, 1992). A third set of problems arises out of changing
societal definitions regarding the nature of law enforcement and the position of police.
Rural policing requires balancing these interacting sets of demands.
Police work is practical and goal-oriented. As practitioners, policemen enforce the law
under the conditions imposed by the ecology of policing. Rural police officers describe
their work as a complex praxis rather than in terms a theoretical orientation. While
cognisant of the presence of theoretical factors, they incorporate a variety of known
facts and acquired concepts to anticipate, prevent and respond to crime. The police
recognise these are adaptations that allow them to maintain the delicate balance as
acceptable citizen and law enforcement agent. Police awareness of how the local
community is linked to their role is essential for the development of effective policies of
law enforcement (Nagel, 1986).
136
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Community justice:
10 sustaining the community
Anne Ardagh and Guy Cumes
Introduction
Because of the perceived inadequacies of the Australian legal system, based on an

adversarial model, there are many areas of conflict and dispute which are not amenable
to satisfactory resolution within the often costly, cumbersome and time consuming
processes of the formal legal system. The legal system is often perceived as ‘owned’ by
legal professionals who control procedures and outcomes and as beyond the
understanding of the community who are disempowered and frustrated by it (Christie,
1977). It is a system that has been criticised for its failure to adequately recognise and
satisfy human needs and to provide for the direct participation of the parties who come
before it. Whereas the legal system has been seen as providing “to monied might the
means abundantly of wearing out the right”, (Dickens ‘Bleak House’, quoted by Mr.
Justice Mason on his appointment (February 1997) as President of the NSW Court of
Appeal), we will suggest that community mediation through Community Justice Centres
is a means of free and equal access to a process of dispute resolution which instead of
“wearing out the right” allows direct participation to a justice process and
empowerment of all members of the community independent of status, money and
position.
Alternative dispute resolution
In Australia, as well as many other parts of the world, there has been a rapid expansion
of alternative methods for dealing with disputes. These methods include arbitration,
facilitation, negotiation, mediation, conciliation, neutral evaluation, expert appraisal and
many variations of these and are usually referred to as alternative dispute resolution
(ADR).
Disputes are concrete, discernible, individual and ‘personal’ as opposed to

political/social disagreements, that are amenable to negotiation and fair and equitable
resolution. Disputes, as opposed to conflict, are within our control to resolve. Conflict is
a broader societal, political division that is not amenable to individual negotiation.
Conflict in the latter sense can be good (have social value) because it may motivate
people to act to bring about
141
social or political change by addressing structural issues and promoting social equality
(Scimecca, 1993:399).
The principal issues we examine are the rationale and practice of community mediation,
and how it sustains both the community and the notion of community justice. We look
specifically at the operations of the NSW Community Justice Centres of which there are
several, whilst distinguishing community justice from the so called ‘ADR industry’
including lawyer controlled mediation. A couple of different areas/examples where
ADR is seen as being particularly effective come to mind; those disputes that are
essentially personal and those that are essentially commercial.
The nature of disputes
Many disputes that are personal involve psychological aspects and cannot be resolved
satisfactorily by a formal procedurally based legal system. This is because of the
existence of and indeed the difference between, what are often called the presenting
issues on the one hand and underlying issues within the dispute on the other. The
presenting issue/issues are those that a court/legal system is geared to deal with; issues
of facts and law and procedure, the technical aspects of e.g. granting a ‘divorce’; the
order that officially declares a marriage over, or that one parent is to have ‘custody’ of
the children of a relationship These areas of family law are based on disputation. They
only exist because a dispute arises between the parties. The underlying issues are the
non-legal causes of the dispute and emotional feelings often driven by values and
principles which people carry into disputes and their resolution; the personal
perceptions of how and why the conflict occurred and the personal reactions impact that
it has had on the individual. This is different for each person and until each knows how
the other feels there will be limited basis for understanding, recognition, compromise,
negotiation and a resolution that is satisfactory to all persons concerned.
The differences between presenting issues and underlying issues may of course be more
marked in some areas e.g. family law, neighbourhood disputes, and even criminal law,
than in others e.g. conveyancing, and certain commercial transactions, stamp duties,
banking and finance, taxation where the issues are more narrow, technical and single.
The latter are areas dealing predominantly with commerce, not personal
matters/problems. However, the value/suitability of alternative dispute resolution
(ADR) in these commercial areas is that it is inexpensive, effective, efficient and
speedy. It saves time, money, management emotion, stress, anxiety and diversion from
the real business of productive outcomes/business. It also preserves reputation, goodwill
and future or on-going relations between the parties, factors which are important in the
commercial area.
142
As a result of the criticisms of the legal system one of the alternative models of dispute
resolution which has been developed relies upon direct participation of the community
in terms of both the subjects of the proceedings as well as the facilitators. It is a model
of mediation (or more correctly co-mediation) and in New South Wales is administered
by an agency of ‘informal justice’ called the Community Justice Centres. It has also
been involved recently in administering a pilot scheme for young offender/victim
reparation called Community Youth Conferencing schemes. Both of these schemes use
facilitators of mediation sessions who are ‘ordinary’ citizens of the community, i.e. non-
professionals whose values purport to represent those of the community at large.
Mediation
Mediation is a process whereby a neutral third person or persons facilitates a meeting

between two or more persons who are in dispute with the aim of assisting them to
understand each other’s point of view and reach an agreement or resolution that is
acceptable to them and in which their needs are met. Mediation is a voluntary process;
in other words the parties choose to participate and it will be successful only if they
freely choose to negotiate a resolution.
An important distinction between litigation and mediation is that in mediation there is

no judgement or decision made by a third person; there is no one person who wins and
no one who loses which is the raison d’être of the common law adversarial legal
process, where a decision is made by a third person in favour of one or the other of the
disputing parties. Litigation within the adversarial system is based upon lawyers putting
forward their client’s strongest case according to the rules of law and procedure. The
litigants ‘fight’ a ‘contest’ in which at the end of the day the disputant with the strongest
case ‘wins’. The judge is an umpire, making sure that the rules of the contest are
followed during the course of the hearing. The court determines the legal issues and
pronounces judgment on the dispute.
Litigation is a coercive process in the sense that one’s adversary is ordered to appear
and the disputants have no control over the process involved or the outcome. In contrast
mediation is an informal process in which the persons themselves choose to participate,
and define the content of what they wish to discuss. There are no rules of evidence and
procedure and the disputants’ control the proceedings and the outcome.
Mediation is an alternative in that there are direct discussions and negotiations between
the parties in the disputes; there is no legal representation or intermediary (although
there may be support persons present). Mediation is non-adversarial; it is a bringing
together in an attempt to identify and meet human needs in a particular area, not a fight
to see which set of legal arguments made by highly paid lawyers (the modern day
gladiators) is stronger.
143
There is a difference between mediation and the practice by which lawyers negotiate
and settle disputes on behalf of their clients. Settlements (lawyer negotiated and
sanctioned by their clients) are of course not part of alternative dispute resolution, but a
standard tool of the practice of the legal trade which “produces an outcome that does
not necessarily meet the needs of all concerned, but is accepted temporarily because of
the coercion of the stronger party” (Scimecca, 1993:392).
Because this paper examines the notion of community mediation and community justice
we now focus (within the context of community) on both the facilitators, those who
convene mediation sessions, and community access to the Community Justice Centres
(CJC) in New South Wales whilst making comparisons and pointing out the difference
between community mediation and lawyer mediation.
Community mediation in NSW
Community mediators act as neutral facilitators only. Their role is to assist; not to
direct, question, second guess or pronounce judgement. They are selected from the local
areas where CJCs operate, not for any training or educational or professional credentials
that they may possess, but because of their skills and subsequent training in mediation
and conflict resolution. They are as far as practicable of all ages, backgrounds,
ethnicity, race, gender and so on, thereby representing communities of interest. By this
we mean that the facilitators bring into the session their particular social interests,
expertise, knowledge, values and backgrounds which may be aligned with any number
of sectional interests e.g. business, church, aboriginal ethnic or juvenile. We see
communities of interest as being different from narrow professional interests or groups,
e.g. legal or police professionals. In other words there is an expectation that mediators
represent the community in the broadest sense and thereby act as quasi-representatives
of the community in the mediation session.
144
Differences between community mediation and lawyer-

mediation
There are many differences between community mediation as described above and
lawyer and/or court annexed mediation:
1. Community mediators are not professionals;
2. Community mediation is not an extension of a chosen training or vocation (e.g. law).
3. Community mediation has a different philosophy and set of skills.

Lawyers are essentially trained to fix other peoples’ disputes and problems and they
bring into mediation a lawyer driven process of problem solving, rather than
facilitating others in discussing and negotiating their own solutions. In contrast
community mediators have no stake in the conflict; or in the desirability of having it
resolved, whereas it has been argued that legal culture sees conflict as ‘evil’.
Lawyers “identify conflict exclusively with threats to stability” and something to be
managed and eliminated (Abel, 1981:249).
4. Another difference and indeed a strength of community mediation is that it is

organisationally based.
Mediators are initially selected by the Director of the Community Justice Centres
and then given lengthy standardised training by the organisation. If successful in the
training program they are then selected for accreditation by the New South Wales
Attorney General for an initial period of one year. Reaccreditation for three year
periods is then possible.
5. There is a legislative base for community mediation: the Community Justice Centres
Act 1983.
This legislative base provides for accountability and control of the process of
mediation and of the mediators. This means community mediators are supervised;
they must account for each session conducted through a written report to a
coordinator who is responsible for reading each report and following up where
necessary. This is an important part of quality control and community service.
In contrast to community mediation, lawyer mediators are self selecting and lawyer
mediation training has not been standardised or accredited. In fact, such training was
rejected by the Law Reform Commission a few years ago. To quote one lawyer-
mediator “the absence of uniform standards and lack of any general standards or
monitoring means that there is no guarantee of competence by people calling
themselves specialists, nor any bar to any of us (lawyers) holding ourselves up as
experts” (Charleton, 1996:132). The same author notes that Community Justice Centers
do not allow mediators who were trained many years ago “to sit on a panel until
kingdom come without any training or reassessment occurring” (ibid).
145
It follows then that lawyers are not supervised as mediators or accountable to an

organisation in the sense that each mediation session they perform is overseen by a
manager or regulatory process. Lawyer mediation is essentially self regulatory, although
the legal profession in the broad sense is regulated by law societies and individual acts
of Parliament which may provide for mediation eg the Farm Debt Mediation Act
(NSW) 1994 and Retail Leases Act 1994 (NSW).
Much criticism has been leveled at what some see as an ‘ADR industry’. In an article on
social work and mediation, de Maria refers to ‘opportunistic lawyers’
occupying/usurping the field of mediation. He says that “the colonisation of mediation
by lawyers in government and private practice will mean that mediation skills will
become professional artefacts locked up within the lawyering role, not to be shared, but
to be given down, at a fee” (de Maria, 1992a:18).
These criticisms do not apply to community mediation, and in fact the existence of
community mediation prevents the exclusive domination by lawyers of the field. It
retains mediation as a community event. Community mediators are not paid by any
client (and in fact are paid little more than a token compared to the hourly rates of a
lawyer); nor do they represent any client; community mediators are not in practice and
have no professional interest in preserving the domain of mediation. They are trained to
respect that sometimes disputes should not be resolved and they are not motivated to
settle at all costs; they are aware that there is a social role in conflict. They are trained to
recognise power imbalances and may not mediate any dispute which involves violence
or threats. Community mediation specifically delimits its role in these areas. Cases may
be referred to other agencies or services, however mediators do not advise, counsel or
settle cases.
Conclusion
CJCs are close to community because the facilitators of mediation sessions/community

conferences are lay persons who come from various backgrounds within the community
and they take an active directive role in determining justice within a community setting.
They are community facilitators of justice just as a jury is and in that sense there is a
further democratisation of the justice system because power is devolved to
representatives of the community to participate in actively helping to resolve disputes;
that is to participate in the process of justice (but not the judgement). Like jurors
community mediators receive minimal remuneration. CJCs are another form of
democratisation of the justice system.
The use of a co-mediation model (ie 2 mediators) of mediation by CJCs further expands
the democratisation principle by expanding the community representation in mediation
by way of gender, background, age, ethnicity
146
etc. The presence of co-mediators provides a means of checking one another’s conduct.
Co-mediation is also a powerful modelling tool in the sense that the mediators’
behaviour, including communication and relationship with one another in the mediation
session becomes an example of principled negotiation and dispute resolution. The
mediators converse with one another and with the parties as a team and in an open and
honest manner which is aimed to promote open discussion and equal participation on
the part of the participants/disputants. This is an educative process in that it informally
‘teaches’ skills of conflict resolution for the future. This method is designed to empower
parties to resolve their own disputes in a direct manner without the aid of the formal
legal system.
The availability of the system of community mediation involving mediators as

representatives of the community enables the actualisation of this empowerment. It
sustains the community by providing an avenue of social justice that is quite unique and
by promoting peaceful means of resolution of disputes and is a model for wider conflict
resolution in the community.
The service is free and open to all citizens and groups within the community. It is
accessible in that free mediation sessions can be scheduled speedily and at a time which
suits the parties’ convenience; follow up sessions can be arranged. Community
mediation is also accessible because of its informality, its non-legal, flexible procedures
and absence of the mystique of the court and legal profession. The process is non-
coercive and non-punitive. As noted above it aims to meet the needs of all the parties in
the sessions and of all members of the community whatever their socio-economic
backgrounds.
All of these elements suggest that the principles of social justice are being met by the
practice of community mediation by providing for inexpensive, equitable, efficient and
speedy access to justice at a time when the legal system is being criticised for its
inability to deliver equitable and efficient access to justice. We are not saying that the
legal system does not need to be further reformed or that community mediation should
be seen as ‘taking the lid off’ the problems with the system. We are saying that there are
areas of individual or group dispute which community mediation is ideally placed to
resolve and which the legal system is not.
The provision of community mediation also serves a broader social function of

modelling constructive methods of conflict resolution and helps to address the need for
societal change in dispute resolution. The social cost in dollar terms is inexpensive for
the community, it promotes peace in the community and meets human needs.
Community mediation is socially sustaining because it reflects, supports and develops
the community; there is a reciprocity between community mediation and social justice.
The rationale, philosophy and practise of community mediation as provided by the
Community Justice Centres sustains the community and promotes access to justice.
147
References
Abel, R. 1981. ‘Conservative Conflict and the reproduction of capitalism: the role of
informal justice’. International Journal of the Sociology of Law 9: 249.
Charleton, R. 1996. ‘New South Wales Legal Convention – 31 October 1995 – Future
directions for mediation’. Australian Dispute Resolution Journal 7(2).
Christie, N. 1977. ‘Conflicts as property’. The British Journal of Criminology 17(1).
De Maria, W. 1992a. ‘Social work and mediation: hemlock in the flavour of the
month?’ Australian Social Work 45(1).
De Maria, W. 1992b. ‘The Administrative Appeals Tribunal in review on remaining

seated during the ovation’ in J. McMillan (ed.) Administrative Law: does the public
benefit? Proceedings of the Australian Institute of Administrative Law forum, April
1992.
Scimecca, J. 1993. ‘What is conflict resolution?’ Peace Review 5(4).
148
The survey-embedded experimental design:
11 shades of justice in Australia
Wolfgang L Grichting
Abstract
The Survey-Embedded Experimental Design (SEED) maximises internal and external

validity. It is ideal for the study of such complex constructs as racism, sexism and
jingoism. Nationwide telephone interviews with 800 randomly selected subjects were
conducted to determine whether and, if so, how much justice administration in Australia
might be affected by the race, gender and citizenship of the accused as well as of the
jurors. A scenario of a mock jury trial was designed: the accused in the dock had been
charged with computer fraud and the subjects were asked to act as jurors. Each of 20
different scenarios were randomly assigned to 40 subjects in such a way that the race
(Australian, British, Chinese, Italian), gender (female, male) and citizenship (Australian
citizen by birth, choice or not at all) of the accused was changed systematically. After
the subjects had listened to the case story they were invited to decide whether the
accused was guilty or not. Eighty percent found the accused guilty and 20 percent found
her/him innocent. There was no evidence of sexism, racism or jingoism at work, that is,
gender, ethnicity and citizenship appear to be irrelevant and hence equitable inequalities
in the typical Australian courtroom – at least when white-collar crime is on trial.
However, the characteristics of the jurors matter greatly in determining guilt or
innocence.
Introduction
Consideration of race, sex and citizenship has frequently influenced – if not interfered
with – both legal and social justice. When this happens we speak of racism, sexism and
jingoism – all highly emotive terms. They are poorly defined and lend themselves
readily to label and challenge, to endorse and undermine procedures, policies and
people. Depending on the politics of the day, people accused of any of these -isms are
either supported and honoured or prosecuted and punished. Whatever else these -isms
may connote, here I take them to mean a violation of justice (both legal and social)
which I define as treating equals equally and unequals according to their relevant
inequalities. Implicit in this definition is the notion that in any given relationship there
may be irrelevant and hence equitable inequalities
149
(Grichting 1984). With this definition of justice I am able to borrow from the well
established social science research on equity and social interaction (eg, Homans 1961,
1974; Blau 1964; Berscheid, Walster & Bohrnstedt 1973; Hatfield & Traupmann 1981;
Michaels, Edwards & Acock 1984; Kollok, Blumstein & Schwartz 1994). Given this
tradition, racism is injustice on the basis of race (ethnicity), sexism injustice on the
basis of gender and jingoism injustice on the basis of citizenship.
While legal and social equity have somewhat different connotations the overlap
between the two is rather extensive albeit not always recognised. A powerful example
of the intersection of legal and social justice is the jury system in English-speaking
countries. While the origins of the jury are lost in history, this noble institution has been
called the “paragon of justice through consensus” (Findlay, 1988:67) and the ‘bulwark
of liberty’ (Waller, 1988:41) in an attempt to show how much social justice is viewed as
a corrective to legal justice. From this vantage point, judge and jury share the
responsibility for meting out justice without fear or favour, that is, without being
influenced by the politically correct or economically feasible doctrines of the day.
To say that racism is injustice on the basis of race implies that race is not a relevant
characteristic in the definition and meting out of justice. Critical examination of racist
accusations hence requires careful assessment of attitudes and behaviour based on race
as against characteristics closely related to race. For instance, if I cannot stand Jews
because of their intellectual superiority I am anti-intellectual rather than anti-Semitic.
Similarly, if I find a female offender guilty of a crime and I say so I am prima facie not
sexist but rather just. As well, if I hire only nationals I should be given the benefit of the
doubt that I chose the best candidates for the jobs to be filled rather than being accused
of jingoism. Whether my dislike for Jews, my guilty verdict of a female offender or my
hiring of nationals amounts to indirect racism, sexism or jingoism is an important issue
but should not be confused with direct discrimination since causes and cures for the two
phenomena are rather different (Grichting 1992).
I concur with leading social scientists (Rawls 1972; Brennan 1983) that justice
effectively amounts to fairness. Brennan particularly emphasises that fairness is at the
centre and core of the Australian creed. Concern for justice permeates private and
public life; and justice itself has many guises and equally many shades. Like any other
social phenomenon, justice/fairness is a socially constructed reality (Berger and
Luckmann 1967) whose meanings are both inter subjective and arbitrary. Its definition
and distribution can be frivolous and whimsical. Uneven justice in modern society is
believed to be disproportionately often based on ethnicity, gender and citizenship of the
accused.
Ethnicity is a basis frequently claimed for according differential treatment. Racism in

Australia has a long history. It began with the arrival of the first Europeans some 200
years ago. The superior firepower of the new arrivals was only exceeded by their
brutality. Under the convenient legal fiction of
150
terra nullius, both Aborigines and native title to their land were treated as non-entities.
In the 19th century, the British developed a spurious race science to justify the depiction
of Aborigines as primitive and inferior (Castles 1988). While the predicament of the
Chinese and Pacific Islanders in Australia during the 19th century was not as grim as
that of the Aborigines, the former presence was encouraged, tolerated or resented
depending almost entirely on whether the Chinese were advantageous or detrimental to
European interests (May 1984). The recent film “G’day, if you’re white” which is
readily available in Asian countries, portrays Australia as a hostile nation of narrow-
minded rednecks and racist ockers. Seal (1990) supports such an accusation when he
examines Australian folklore and concludes that the collective subconscious of the
nation suggests that racial prejudice is alive and well in this country. And so does the
racial vilification legislation currently debated in Parliament. Geoffrey Blainey (1994:
35), on the other hand, questions the validity of such accusations and calls for a
scientific examination of racism in Australia. He notes “I do not know whether a fair
and comprehensive test has ever been applied to a big sample of Australians to try to
see whether the native-born tend to be more prejudiced on matters of race than, say, the
Greek-born or Irish-born or the Chinese-born or Aboriginal Australians. I have no idea
what the answer would be”. While Blainey’s call for evidence of racism is aimed at the
racists, an equally strong case for evidence concerning the victims of racism can be
mounted. If there are no racists there cannot be victims of racism.
The term ‘feminisation of poverty’ has been coined to summarise the empirical
evidence that women miss out in the justice stakes in Australia and elsewhere. Women
increasingly take the brunt of diminishing resources and opportunity structures
(Grichting 1986). Western (1983: 194) concludes his chapter on gender and social
inequality by submitting that “gender is a variable independent of class which
contributes to the social inequality that is a feature of Australian society”. Mercer
(1975: 475-7) comments on the plight of women in Australian society as she argues that
“women have always been and continue to be exploited and oppressed in a society run
by and for men ... in some cases this is accomplished simply by exclusion from social
privileges and ... the discriminatory nature of the workforce”. Empirical evidence to
substantiate such a wholesale indictment of contemporary Australia is readily found in
almost any publication of the Australian Bureau of Statistics For example,. Social
Indicators 1992 (p 249) states that “women received less income than men in all
categories. Even among pensioners/beneficiaries women received, on average, only 78
percent as much as men”. On the other hand, Birrell et al. (1995) note that women are
no longer disadvantaged in gaining access to higher education; they indeed speak of a
swapping of gender roles with regard to educational opportunities.
Marshall (1950: 86) unequivocally states that “citizenship is itself becoming the
architect of social inequality”. Marshall (1963: 87) defines citizenship as “a status
bestowed on those who are full members of a community. All who possess the status
are equal with respect to the rights and duties with
151
which the status is endowed”. Pinker (1980) elaborates on Marshall’s notion when he
notes that civil and political rights become a pre-condition of the extension of social
rights. Both writers thus imply that citizens and non-citizens have different rights and
hence have legitimately been treated differently in both traditional and modern
societies. Is this so? If so, are those who have acquired citizenship by birth enjoying the
same rights as those who have become citizens by choice or those who have failed to
take out citizenship in a country other than their country of birth? Individuals who
advocate or practice blustering patriotism or bellicose foreign policy are properly
referred to as jingoists (The New Shorter Oxford Dictionary, 1993).
Accusations and implications of uneven treatment on the basis of race, gender and
citizenship are far too serious to be made lightly. Nevertheless they are said to occur
with great regularity. Can social research help us discern social injustice experiences
from claims thereof? Who is the best judge in deciding the issue: those who experience
social injustice or those who mete it out? The results are probably different. Neither
party is likely to render an objective judgement. Thus, a judge without vested interests
is needed. For my money, there is no better judge than a scientific experiment which
takes place where justice is supposed to be meted out regardless of cost and
consequence: in the jury deliberation where the evidential rules for legal justice
intersect with the communal expectations of social justice. Such an experiment will
permit us to shed light on the proverbial shades of justice and to determine whether
differential treatment occurs and, if it does, whether it is because of characteristics of
those on the jury bench or those in the dock.
Method, subjects and measures
There is no shortage of experimental studies of jury behaviour. Unfortunately most

work in the area has been conducted in laboratories (eg, mock trials), typically with
subjects who do not permit generalisation beyond themselves. Thus external validity of
these studies is poor. Similarly, there are many surveys which have attempted to
evaluate justice/fairness in various contexts. Unfortunately, most respondents’
experiential field of relevant behaviour varies to such a degree that it is very difficult to
establish causal inferences about inter-subjective attributions. Thus internal validity is
typically in jeopardy. To overcome the shortcomings of both experiment and survey, I
decided to combine a survey with an experiment (1984). To accomplish this a Survey-
Embedded Experimental Design (SEED) was devised which rendered possible various
treatments of the survey respondents. SEED systematically modified the survey
questions in such a way that groups of randomly assigned respondents were exposed to
different social realities, that is, to individuals with varying race, gender and citizenship.
SEED permits the comparison of the experimental and control groups in terms of main
and interaction effects. As well, the experimental results can legitimately be generalised
to the population from which the sample was drawn with equal probabilities.
152
Method
From October to December 1994, a telephone survey of the Australian population was
conducted. To correct the bias owing to the 13 percent silent telephone numbers in
Australia (4 to 20% depending on the area) a constant was added to each systematically
selected number from the White Pages, each volume commencing with a random start.
Of the 2,539 selected telephone numbers from the 55 telephone areas in the nation, 666
(26%) numbers were either not connected, facsimile or business numbers and hence
ineligible. Of the remaining 1,873 eligible numbers, 800 (43%) households in 53 areas
were successfully interviewed. Some 237 (13%) potential respondents could not be
reached despite six attempts over as many weeks; 88 contacts produced an appointment
but it was not kept; 11 respondents who were willing to participate had language
problems and were deemed not suitable. Finally, 737 (39%) declined to participate for a
variety of reasons; most frequently without offering an explanation beyond “not
interested”. In each household the individual whose birthday was coming up next and
who was at least 15 years of age was selected to participate in the survey. The
respondent was requested to listen carefully to the following scenario:
Jason and his wife Kelly have lived all their life in Australia. Kelly is at home and
looks after their three pre-school children. For the past six years Jason has been
employed as a computer programmer at the local bank. As the economy got worse
and worse, the bank had to lay Jason off. Because of the sensitive nature of his job,
Jason was not permitted back into his office. Instead he was given $5,000, that is,
one month’s pay. Because of hard times the bank decided not to pay the contractual
amount of one month’s salary for every two years of service. Jason felt that he had
been short-changed by the bank and considered going to court. His lawyer informed
him that the legal costs would be more than $10,000 which the bank owed him.
Jason therefore decided to get from the bank what belonged to him. Through his
computer at home Jason transferred $10,000 from the bank into his own account.
However he got caught and arrested. The bank recouped all the money. Still the
bank is pressing charges of fraud and Jason finds himself before the Supreme Court.
Suppose you are on the jury. How do you feel about Jason; please summarise your
assessment of Jason’s guilt or innocence to your fellow jurors.
Next, the respondent was presented with a battery of statements which were said to
have been made by the other jurors and asked to indicate the amount of (dis)agreement
with each statement. Finally, the hypothetical juror was asked “to take together all the
statements which you have heard and say whether Jason is guilty or not guilty”. The
interview lasted, on average, 17 minutes and concluded with questions about the
respondent’s socioeconomic background.
It is important to point out that the above scenario is sufficiently ambiguous to permit
both a guilty and not-guilty verdict. While it is clear that the money was taken and
hence a guilty verdict could be expected, it should also be noted that the bank refused to
pay the contractual amount to Jason who
153
was advised that legal redress was not feasible. For this reason one might anticipate a
not-guilty verdict. Because guilt and innocence are not readily apparent from the
evidence, one can expect defendant and juror characteristics to influence the verdict.
The above vignette was but one of 20 vignettes. Twenty randomly selected groups of 40
respondents were presented with systematically changed scenarios. To test whether the
gender of the accused matters (sexism), half the respondents were told that Kelly was
the computer programmer and Jason was looking after their three pre-school children.
Similarly, the ethnic background (racism) was varied by substituting Mary, Nerrina and
Mei-ling for Kelly; and Tom, Antonio and Hau-ting for Jason. Citizenship was either
(1) by birth (born in Australia), (2) by choice (arrived 10 years ago from the UK, Italy
or China, respectively, and took out citizenship seven years ago) or (3) not at all by
stating that “they arrived from the UK, Italy, or China 10 years ago but did not take out
citizenship because they intend to return to their home country”. The 2 x 4 x 3 design
results in 20 possible cells because people born in Australia, by definition, have
Australian citizenship by birth.
Subjects
Table 1 describes the sample as it presents basic information on respondent

characteristics which will be used in the analysis below. The average age of the
respondent was 40.4 years. She was born in Australia (76.9%), had 11.5 years of formal
education, was partnered (56.8%) and judged herself slightly above average (3.78) on
the socio-economic ladder (midpoint on scale was 3.5). As well, she saw herself as not
religious (71.3%) and not in support of the Labor party (39.9% for Labor; 7.3%
undecided and 52.8% against Labor).
Table 1: Means, standard error and percentages of basic

respondent characteristics
Mean Standard Error Percent

Age 40.44 .579
Gender .466 .018
Years of formal education 11.48 .094
Socio-economic status 3.78 .030
Labor supporter 1.73 39.9
Religious 1.60 28.7
Partnered 1.75 56.8
Born in Australia 1.49 76.9
Notes to Table 1:
• Sex 0 = female; 1 = male.
• SES Taking into consideration the house you live in, the money you earn, the property you own, the car you
drive and so forth, would you say that your standard of living is 1 (much below the average) - 6 (much above the
average)?
• Politically speaking, do you consider yourself as Labor or non-Labor?
• Do you consider yourself to be not religious at all (1), not very religious (2), quite religious (3) or very religious
(4)?
154
The 800 respondents are representative of the adult (15+ years) Australian population,
even though there are some biases as in most surveys. An almost expected bias results
from the notoriously higher participation rate by females in surveys: in the current
survey there are 53.4 percent women as against 50.6 percent in the census of the adult
population. This bias is more clearly identified by the fact that the partnered males were
most reluctant to participate in the survey, resulting in a dissimilarity index of .044
which means that 4.4 percent of the respondents would have to be shifted into other
categories in order to have a perfect match between the census and sample distributions.
A small bias in the age distribution (dissimilarity index = .066) is as anticipated: the
very young and very old are under represented, conceivably because all interviews were
conducted evenings and weekends. Finally the distribution of respondents across the six
states and two territories very closely matches the actual population in these areas
(dissimilarity index = .020). While these and presumably other biases exist it is not
known whether they affect the substantive conclusions to be drawn. All in all, the data
to be analysed suggest that they are a reasonably faithful replica of the population of
interest: adult Australia.
Measures
In order to obtain as comprehensive a measure of socio-economic status in the context

of a telephone interview I decided to ascertain subjective perception of this important
construct by asking each respondent “taking into consideration the house you live in,
the money you earn, the property you own, the car you drive and so forth would you say
that your standard of living is above or below average? ... Would you say that your are
much, quite a bit or just slightly below (above) average.” This six -point scale
correlates with years of formal education at r = .219; a = <.0001 somewhat less than the
correlation between more traditional measures of education, income and occupational
status. However, the validity of these latter indicators is questionable whenever the
respondents come from such divergent groups as teenagers, housewives, people in the
work force and senior citizens. Religiosity was measured by asking “do you consider
yourself to be very religious, quite religious, not very religious or not religious at all?”
It could be noted that the meaning of the ‘not very religious’ category might be
ambiguous. In everyday English it can be understood either as a denial of ‘very
religious’ or as a diffuser of ‘religious’. However, given the order in which the
categories were presented such a confusion should not have arisen. Political orientation
was ascertained as follows: “politically speaking, do you consider yourself as Labor or
non-Labor? ... In general, would you say that you support Labor/non-Labor causes very
much, moderately or only slightly?”
155
Table 2: Means, standard deviations and factor loadings of

respondents’ agreement with items presented during
jury mock trial
Item Mean SD Loading commun-

ality
Under the circumstances *** only did what 2.58 1.70 .689 .475
she had to do
Quite frankly, if I had been in ***’s shoes I 2.13 1.73 .678 .451
would have done the same thing
Since the bank did not lose any money it 3.41 1.77 .668 .446
should not have prosecuted ***
*** is guilty as charged .80 .40 -.663 .440
*** is a criminal 3.39 1.63 -.589 .347
People like *** must look after their own 3.57 1.86 .514 .264
interest since nobody else does it for them
People like *** have no right to take the law 4.84 1.55 -.507 .257
into their own hands
It is not an offence to take what is rightfully 3.27 1.89 .505 .255
yours
I think the bank rather than *** should be on 4.00 1.82 .494 .244
trial
The welfare of ***’s family is more important 4.56 1.54 .437 .191
than the bank’s profit
The bank must prosecute *** to protect the 4.28 1.66 -.433 .187
interest of the people who deposit their money
in the bank
People like *** must go to jail 2.13 1.42 -.392 .154
Bank greed has ruined far too many hard- 4.68 1.62 .358 .128
working people during the last couple of years
Notes:
*** refers to Kelly, Jason, Mary, Tom, Nerrina, Antonio, Mei-ling and Hau-ting, depending on vignette. All items
(except *** is guilty as charged) were coded 1 (strongly disagree) to 6 (strongly agree).
*** is guilty as charged was a dichotomy where 0 (innocent) and 1 (guilty).
Results
Table 2 presents the means and standard deviations of the 12 items measured on a six-
point Likert scale and the dichotomised innocent/guilty item which was asked directly
after the Likert-type items were presented as statements offered by fellow jurors. In
addition, the factor loadings and communalities of these 13 items are entered in Table 2.
The 13 items are ordered to reflect the magnitude of the factor loading. All items load
on one factor and this factor accounts for 29.5 percent of the shared variance. While a
two- and three-factor solution accounted for 34.5 and 37.9 percent of the variance, the
factors resisted ready interpretation, mainly because no
156
simple structure could be obtained through either orthogonal or oblique rotation. The
meaning of the one-dimensional solution, however, is readily ascertained. Since item 4
is coded as innocent (0)/guilty (1) and negatively related to the factor (-.663) it is
appropriate to label this dimension: in defence of innocence. This label is supported by
the fact that all other items with positive loadings measure agreement with the
statements under consideration. Thus respondents who judged the accused to be not
guilty of fraud admit, inter alia, that “under the circumstances *** did what she had to
do” and “quite frankly, if I had been in ***’s shoes I would have done the same thing.”
Conversely, they disagree with the notion that “people like *** have no right to take the
law into their own hands,” that “*** is a criminal” and that “people like *** must go to
jail.”
The magnitude of the loadings, of course, does not indicate whether the accused was
actually found innocent or guilty; the loadings merely reveal how strongly the
underlying dimension in defence of innocence is reflected in the 13 indicators under
examination. While the factor loadings establish the coherence and meaningfulness of
the scale the factor scores permit us to place the 800 respondents on that scale. To avoid
losing some 200 respondents owing to missing information on one or more items I
decided to substitute the mean for the missing cases. No appreciable difference could be
found between this solution and the solution based on list wise deletion of missing
cases. As expected, the factor scores of in defence of innocence are approximating a
normal distribution with a grand mean of .00 and a standard deviation of .93.
The multiple classification analysis (Table 3) provides a first overview of the effect of
the experimental manipulation on the dependent variable: in defence of innocence. The
multiple R of .084 and its square of .007 immediately suggest that changing the
characteristics of the accused was of minimal consequence.
With regard to jingoism one learns that citizenship by birth or by choice results in the
identical mean of .02, while those who chose not to take out citizenship score -.06. A
similarly negligible difference is noticed among the four ethnic groups: Australians
were judged most harshly (-.07) and Italians most leniently (.07). The judgement of the
Chinese vignette is practically identical to the Australian while the British scenario is
virtually the same as the grand mean (.00). Finally, the verdict of males (-.03) in the
dock is apparently harsher than that of females (.03). However, none of these
differences are statistically significant.
157
Table 3: Multiple classification analysis of impact of jingoism,

racism and sexism on factor score reflecting ‘in
defence of innocence’
Grand Mean = .00

Adjusted for
Variable + Category Unadjusted Independents
N Dev’n Eta Dev’n Beta
JINGOISM
1 By birth 320 .02 .04
2 By choice 240 .02 .01
3 Neither 240 -.06 -.07
.04 .05
RACISM
1 Australian 80 -.07 -.12
2 Italian 240 .07 .08
3 Briton 240 .01 .01
4 Chinese 240 -.06 -.05
.06 .07
SEXISM
0 Female 400 .03 .03
1 Male 400 -.03 -.03
.03 .03
Multiple R Squared .007

Multiple R .084
Do the results change if one examines all 20 vignettes simultaneously by an analysis of

covariance? Table 4 presents the results of such an analysis where In defence of
innocence was the dependent variable, the characteristics of the accused were treated as
the factors and the characteristics of the jurors as the covariates. To compute interaction
effects it was necessary to exclude the Australian vignettes (n=80) so as to avoid empty
cells. The findings are about as clear and unambiguous as they could have been: none of
the main and interaction effects are even remotely significant whereas most of the
covariates are statistically highly significant. Specifically, the regression coefficient of
the factor score on education (b = -.078; F = 29.217; a <.000) reveals that the higher the
juror’s educational attainment the more likely that the accused will be found guilty.
Similarly, respondents who are (socio-economically) better off (b = -.085; F = 3.884; a
= .049), those who are partnered (b = -.162; F = 4.842; a =.028) and not in support of
Labor (b = .027; F = 2.63; a = .105) are more likely to render a guilty verdict.
Conversely, respondents born overseas (b = .236; F = 6.848; a = .009) and those who
see themselves as religious (b = .078; F = 3.511; a =.061) are more likely to find the
accused not guilty. Neither age nor gender of the respondent is significant.
158
Table 4: Analysis of covariance: the impact of racism, sexism

and jingoism on regression factor score reflecting ‘in
defence of innocence’, after controlling for
characteristics of juror
Source of Variation Sum of DF Mean F Sig of F b

Squares Square
Covariates 51.253 8 6.407 7.674 <.001
AGE .424 1 .424 .508 .476
COUNTRY OF BIRTH 5.717 1 5.717 6.848 .009 -.002
EDUCATION 24.391 1 24.391 29.217 <.001 .236
MARITAL STATUS 4.042 1 4.042 4.842 .028 -.078
POLITICAL 2.196 1 2.196 2.630 .105 -.162
ORIENTATION 2.931 1 2.931 3.511 .061 -.027
RELIGIOSITY 3.243 1 3.243 3.884 .049 .078
SES 2.246 1 2.246 2.691 .101 -.085
GENDER .122
Main Effects 3.525 5 .705 .844 .518
JINGOISM .940 2 .470 .563 .570
RACISM 2.440 2 1.220 1.461 .233
SEXISM .152 1 .152 .182 .670
2-Way Interactions 3.721 8 .465 .557 .813
JINGOISM RACISM 2.701 4 .675 .809 .520
JINGOISM SEXISM .588 2 .294 .352 .703
RACISM SEXISM .446 2 .223 .267 .766
3-Way Interactions 6.366 4 1.592 1.906 .108
JINGOISM RACISM 6.366 4 1.592 1.906 .108
SEXISM
Explained 64.865 25 2.595 3.108 <.001
Residual 538.469 645 .835
Total 603.334 670 .900
Notes:
• Sex 0 = female; 1 = male
• SES Taking into consideration the house you live in, the money you earn, the property you own, the car you
drive and so forth would you say that your standard of living is 1 (much below the average) ... 6 (much above the
average)?
• Politically speaking, do you consider yourself as Labor or non-Labor?
• Do you consider yourself to be not religious at all (1), not very religious (2); quite religious (3) or very religious
(4)?
Given that the above covariates are significantly related to the harshness with which the
jurors dealt with the accused it is conceivable that some of these covariates interact with
the three manipulated factors. By treating the significant covariates as factors no
significant interaction effects were found. For example, while the partnered, the
Australia born, the socio-economically better off and the better educated proved more
severe jurors they did so with regard to all twenty cells; that is, they did not discriminate
on the basis of gender, race or citizenship.
159
Discussion and conclusion
The results of my analysis are rather surprising. Contrary to a frequently held belief,
there is no evidence of sexism, racism or jingoism at work – or, to put it differently, in
the Australian context, gender, ethnicity and citizenship are irrelevant and hence
equitable inequalities. Conversely, the characteristics of the jurors matter greatly. Given
the general concern about sexism, racism and jingoism in Australia, such a non-finding
is as puzzling as it is pleasing – provided it is valid. The question thus arises whether
the experiment measures what it claims to measure. The first issue arises as to whether
the experimental stimuli were such as to elicit either a guilty or not guilty verdict. One
might surmise that the case was a forgone conclusion. Certainly the five lawyers among
the 800 respondents felt so. All five of them found *** guilty of fraud. Two of them
were rather forthright and declared that any responsible juror would have to find ***
guilty. This view was not shared by a respondent who shouted ‘unfair’ and refused to
continue the interview when told that *** had been found guilty, a convenient decision
made to get the respondents to think about the most suitable punishment for the ‘crime
committed’ even though the meting out of punishment is not the responsibility of the
jury in Australia. As it was, 79.9 percent decided that *** was guilty. Even if only a
majority (rather than unanimity) verdict of 10:2 (= 83.3%) is needed in most Australian
states and territories to render a guilty verdict we have a hung jury and *** will get off.
Clearly the possible range of judgement is large enough to permit differential verdicts
for the 20 vignettes, if racism, sexism and jingoism were at work in Australia.
Next we will have to ask whether the vignettes were sufficiently specific with regard to
ethnic background, gender and nationality to evoke different judgements if racism,
sexism and jingoism are present in Australian society. The answer would seem to be in
the affirmative. To drive home the ethnic background of the accused, her or his name
was repeated 10 times during the case study at the beginning of SEED, and 11 times
before the final verdict was pronounced. There could be no doubt as to the racial or
ethnic background of the accused. Similarly, the gender of the accused was readily
identified because of her or his name. It could be debated whether or not the citizenship
issue was sufficiently clear as it was addressed only at the beginning of the scenario.
However noticing that the verdict difference between males and females is less (.06)
than that between citizens and non-citizens (.08), I would hold that the latter was
adequately stated. It would thus appear that the case was sufficiently ambiguous and the
persona dramatis sufficiently identified to become the victim of racism, sexism or
jingoism if these -isms were at work in the population at large.
Finally, it could be held that the experiment did not measure racism, sexism and
jingoism, but merely assertions of such behaviours because the respondents were asked
to imagine that they were on a jury. I am not here proposing to indulge in the attitude-
behaviour debate. Suffice it to say that
160
all three -isms above can be understood as manifestations of both prejudice and
discrimination, that is as attitudes and behaviours.
Before Australia collectively indulges in self-congratulatory exercises it is necessary to

make sure that the findings are not a false negative: claiming that sexism, racism and
jingoism are absent when they are simply hidden. Without significant main and
interaction effects a nil result could be due to at least four factors. First, an explanation
could be advanced that a hypothetical situation of a court, with all the strict rules for
evidence and procedure, blocks the expression of prejudice and discrimination that
permeate everyday life. Given that respondents were able to render their judgement
without having to defend or justify it, I would have to question such an interpretation of
the findings.
Second, it is conceivable that these -isms are typical of a small number of bigots rather
than of the average Australian. If so, it would be unfair to chide the nation as a whole of
racism, sexism and jingoism. Do to so is no more justified than to accuse the nation of
murder and thievery because there are a few thieves and murderers among 18 million
people.
Third, could one infer that the case was too complex to be judged by the average
Australian? Again, I do not think so, judging from the lively interest with which the
respondents participated and even identified themselves with the accused. Such a
position is further supported by the fact that jurors with varying characteristics
produced rather predictable verdicts: jurors who most likely have a vested interest in the
status quo (the Australia born, the educated, the well-off, the conservatives (anti-Labor)
and the partnered) tended toward a guilty verdict. Conversely, those who saw
themselves as religious and presumably ask ‘to be forgiven as they forgive’ opted for
leniency.
Fourth, it could be argued that racism in Australia is alive and well when it comes to the
Aborigines. While this may be so, the current study does not permit me to address this
issue. To do justice to this frequent claim another study is required.
I know of no other study which with equal rigour has attempted to examine the frequent
accusations of sexism, racism and jingoism in Australia. I therefore conclude that such
accusations are not deserved until and unless they are proven beyond reasonable doubt.
Conversely, it would be premature to conclude that the findings of the current study can
be generalised across all other conceivable scenarios. It is thinkable that drastically
different results could be found if the charge had been rape, shoplifting or malingering.
Additional studies are required to ascertain the degree to which the current findings can
be generalised. Whatever, the basic axiom of Western justice ‘innocent until proven
guilty’ applies to both individuals and collectivities. I believe it is time to set the record
straight and to distinguish between sexism, racism and jingoism and behaviour based on
characteristics which may be closely related to these -isms.
161
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163
164
The myth of media objectivity:
12 images of ‘problematic’ young people
Ruth Webber
Introduction
When newspaper articles describe young people who have come into contact with the
juvenile justice system they over present certain categories of young people and under
presents others. Most media reports about young people are about youth crime. The
general public, who base their views of young people on these reports, are kept ignorant
of the real situation in which only three percent of juveniles in Victoria in any one year
come into contact with the juvenile justice system. An analysis of Australian newspaper
articles from January 1995 to November 1996 demonstrates that ‘atypical’ images of
‘troubled’ young people are presented in a stereotypical fashion regardless of their real
situation. Further, the images that are presented provide a backdrop for assigning blame.
The print media has adopted the currently popular ideology that the family is the root
cause of young people’s problems either through inadequate moral standards, poor
supervision, emotional tension or faulty training. The views of young people and their
families are rarely reported in these articles. The ‘voice’ of law and order and the
‘voice’ of the professional expert predominate.
The views of young people on social issues are rarely sought in the media and reports
about them tend to be pessimistic and biased (Bessant, 1996; Crane, 1996; White,
1994). In those instances when young people’s views are reported, they tend to be taken
from transcripts of court hearing. In this stilted, controlled and foreign environment,
young people are unable to express their views on youth issues. The perspectives and
views of young people about issues relevant to them, if reported in the press, usually are
expressed through significant and ‘responsible’ community representatives. In contrast,
young people are not considered ‘authoritative’ sources on issues affecting youth. Yet,
organisations which advocate on youth issues are unlikely to represent the diverse
views of young people from different backgrounds.
165
The media’s portrayal of young people
The absence of voices of young people in the media is well documented (ACIJ, 1992;
Crane, 1997). Crane (1996) reported on 1994 research undertaken by the Youth Bureau
of the Queensland Department of Tourism, Sports and Racing into the portrayal of
young people in the mainstream metropolitan and regional Queensland print media.
Two of the key findings in that report relate to the way young people were represented.
The report stated that in newspaper articles relevant to young people, the perspectives
of young people themselves were not included. Additionally, it reported that coverage
of social issues relevant to young people took the form of explaining young people to
older people, and the language used sometimes excluded young people from the
readership of the articles. The study also found that there are few occasions when young
persons’ views about relevant social issues were reported.
While it may be understandable that young people’s views are not reported in specific
instances of crime, the absence of their views when reporting social issues is
noteworthy, and demonstrates the way young people are not considered to be experts in
areas about which they are directly concerned (Crane, 1997). When young people are
consulted, they tend to emerge from the more ‘advantaged’ groups in society and are
well educated, more articulate and perceived to be ‘young succeeders’ (Ewen, 1994). A
report into youth participation noted that the representational legitimacy of well
educated and privileged young spokespersons is questionable when the needs of
marginalised groups of young people are considered (Kaplun, 1995). In other words,
how valid are the opinions of selected young people who have no experience of the
group for whom they are supposed to be representing?
For the most part, the views of young people are ignored while more accessible and
traditional sources are sought. Relevant state authorities are routinely called upon to
give their official imprint to particular events, and those people who are socially
perceived to be in a position to know about youth issues are approached to give their
account. “News then becomes a vehicle for communication among those towards the
top end of the knowledge structures of society, while those towards the bottom end are
left to speculate” (Ericson, Baranek & Chan, 1989: 5).
In a study of the way the media in Toronto uses the court as a source of news, Ericson,
Baranek and Chan (1989: 73) found that reporters frequently decided to cover a case
either because it represented a potential for exposing politicians and government wrong-
doing or alternatively because the opportunity for sensationalism would provide
‘quotable quotes’. They further found that the police beat is a significant component in
reporting news about crime and that reporters were pro-active in presenting a particular
view of an incident that matched police ideology while ignoring the views of less
powerful groups. Young people not only lack the power to have their views heard, but
they are a source of good copy because
166
frequently they provide journalists an opportunity to sensationalise incidents in which

they are involved.
Crane (1996) stated that the mainstream print media is most influential in the political
policy processes because of its large penetration to voters. If young people’s views are
not expressed (in their own words), then their citizenship rights are eroded. Newspaper
readers are likely to form judgements about young people on the basis of the narrow and
limited views expressed by a few powerful spokespersons who are called on to respond
to particular cases or issues. Even if well meaning ‘others’ try to accurately represent
their views, there is a risk that these views will be distorted or even ‘laundered’ to make
them more palliative to the wider readership.
While young people themselves may get little opportunity to voice their views, there are
plenty of stories about young people, especially about ‘problematic’ young people.
There have been many claims made about the way the media represents young people.
One recurring theme is that the media presents a biased view of society by stereotyping
with over and under-representation of groups (Cunneen & White, 1995). For example,
Sandor (1996) stated that The Age used crime statistics to present a picture of gangland
Victoria on the basis of increased youth crime, but adult crime increased at a much
greater rate and was ignored. Further, it is claimed that the media distorts images and
reality by use of cliches and by only putting a limited view and a limited number of
images (Cunneen & White, 1995; O’Sullivan, 1995). Reportedly, colourful and emotive
language is used frequently by the media to describe the young offender (O’Sullivan,
1995). In this way, young people can easily be identified as either worthy of sympathy
or worthy of condemnation.
In the New South Wales Report of the Youth Justice Project (Webber, 1990), it is stated
that media’s portrayals of youth tend to be extreme with a juxtaposition of images of
young people as exceptionally high achievers, deviant and dangerous or as pathetic and
homeless. The report states that the language is the key to how youth activities are
interpreted by the reader, for example, ‘gang’ ‘hooligan’ ‘vandal’ go with connotations
of disorder and destructiveness. On the other hand, emotive language can convey a
message of sympathy for those young people who are portrayed as victims of society.
For example, the title of the series on youth homelessness was ‘The Lost Children’
(Age, 1995 January & February). This evokes feelings of vulnerability and
hopelessness. A title like ‘Lost Youth’ would not have been so effective. There is a
constant tension between these two competing views with the result that in the same
news story, one young person will portrayed as the innocent victim while a second
young person will be represented as a threatening youth.
These two themes are most likely to be presented in stories about spectacular violence
that result in physical injury. Muncie (1981) claimed that readers are sensitised to
certain types of crimes by stories which provide information about victims juxtaposed
with graphic details of the crime and by the use of derogatory labels and dramatic
headlines. He
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concluded that the dramatic affect of the story depends on the easy identification of
opposing factions: criminal versus innocent victims, hooligans versus police, young
people versus old. In this way, crimes are depicted in terms of a confrontation between
the forces of good and evil. The collapsing of events into simplistic questions of right
and wrong encourages readers to side with one or other of the positions being offered.
Equally, if a young person can be singled out as a hardened criminal or as a ringleader,
then the dramatic portrayal takes on another dimension. In these instances readers are
left with the dominant picture of young criminals who have diverged from the paths of
normality and who need to be controlled.
While problematic young people are viewed as a threat to society on the one hand, they
are also viewed as victims of an uncaring juvenile justice system and/or an inept social
welfare system. Muncie (1981) claims that in both portrayals, simplistic images are
used to describe young people. In a study of the content of the Australian Journal of
Social Issues from 1961 to 1984, it was found that three different groups of young
people emerged in articles concerned with youth: (1) the idealistic deviants who wanted
a better world and were seen as members of the counter-culture; (2) the delinquents and
young offenders who were seen as a threat to society; and (3) the unemployed and
disadvantaged youth who were seen as victims of the system (Drury & Jamrozik, 1985:
19). White (1990) added parasite as a fourth stereotypical image.
Young (1996), in describing the murder in England of two year old James Bulger by
two boys aged ten, argues that the media set up a series of oppositions so that the
murder became portrayed as a play of evil and innocence. Further, she claimed that the
media portrayed the two young murderers as non-children who had “the faces of normal
boys but they had hearts of evil” (p.115). Young (1996) suggests that a ‘child’ image
contains notions of innocence and the two boys in the Bulger case were seen by the
media to have lost their innocence and so were portrayed as ‘non-children’. Thus, a fifth
category, that of evil non-children could be added to those described by Dury and
Jamrozik (1985) and White (1990).
Cunneen and White (1995) claimed that there is no recognition that young people are
more likely to be victims than perpetrators of violence and that under 16 year olds are 4
times more likely to be victims than suspects in homicide cases. Wundersitz (1993)
suggested that 4.1 percent of juveniles come into contact with the juvenile justice
system in any one year: 3 percent in Victoria and NSW and 6.4 percent in WA. About
20 percent of young people do find themselves at some stage before the authorities, with
important differences between males and females, and between Aborigines and non-
Aborigines.
Many young people who appear in the Children’s Court do not live in nuclear families.
In a South Australian study, about 1 in 4 appearances of young people were from solo
parent families (Gale, Bailey-Harris & Wundersitz, 1990: 57). This was about 3-4 times
higher than the national average. In the New South Wales Report of the Youth Justice
Project, it was
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reported that some groups tend to attract greater scrutiny by authorities than others
(Webber, 1990). For example, siblings of those already in trouble came under greater
surveillance. Likewise, it was those living in what is defined as abnormal family
relationships or homeless young people or those most economically marginalised who
were the most susceptible to intervention by police or other authorities. Further, those
young people who lived outside ‘normal’ family arrangements were subject to different
responses to those from more traditional families. Because young people from outside
the ‘normal’ family structure are likely who come before the justice or welfare system,
it is their stories that are reported, not the ‘nice kids’ from well off homes who do
similar things but avoid detection or prosecution. Therefore, a skewed picture is
presented of certain groups of young people.
One of the primary explanations of the cause of deviancy among young people as
portrayed by the media is the lack of a ‘good’ family. Hartley and Wolcott (1994)
claimed that there is a tendency to see families as the root cause of many youth
‘problems’ from homelessness to poor scholastic performance, unemployment,
alienation, violence, drug taking and disruptive behaviour, and to see some families as
‘dysfunctional’. It is neither realistic nor very helpful to lay all youth problems at the
family’s door. Ordinary families have no opportunity to tell their side of the story,
particularly about the difficulties of raising children in an economic rationalist society.
Sercombe (1993) studied 2,675 articles collected from The West Australian newspaper
about young people between April 1992 to May 1993. He found that crime was the
major issue (1,644 articles) reported. Criminal behaviour as reflected in court
appearances is overwhelmingly an activity of boys. He found that articles concerning
young women were overwhelmingly outnumbered in the newspaper three to one, and
the roles that they played were overwhelmingly passive, dependent, victim roles, The
number of young people arrested in any one year accounts for only a tiny proportion of
the youth population. Youth unemployment affects far more people, and is arguably of
much greater concern. Only 4.5 percent of the articles in his survey were on the
unemployment issue.
The media portrays itself as an official and objective source of information, rarely
questioning publicly its own process in the ‘creation of news’ and current affairs. The
media not only defines what significant events are taking place, but how the audiences
are to understand and make sense of them. The media constructs the social world.
Journalists select events which are ‘atypical’ and present them in a ‘stereotypical’
fashion contrasting them against a backdrop of normality which is ‘over typical’
(Young, 1971: 37). Young people have neither official legitimacy, nor institutional
means of making their views known.
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The research
This paper is based on a study of how young people are written about in 288 articles in
four daily and one weekly newspapers over a two year period. Stories or articles were
included in the study if the issues raised were of direct relevance to young people or if
young people were portrayed as being ‘problematic’. Young people fell into the
‘problematic’ category if they were portrayed as perpetrators of crime (harming others),
as victims of crime (harmed by others), or as victims of circumstances (harming
themselves or harmed by society). It examines which sectors of society have their views
about young people reported. This paper also attempts to throw some light on the
proposition that ‘problematic’ young people are presented in a stereotypical fashion
regardless of their real situation, a proposition often made by ‘moral panic’ theorists.
In the analysis of the articles, a distinction was made between news reports and critical
reviews. Those reports which merely report factual details of an incident or a research
paper and provide have been categorised as news articles. Those which provide an
analysis of the incident or contain comments from spokespersons or interested parties
have been categorised as review articles. The review articles may contain case studies or
may be straight commentaries on youth issues. Editorials about young people are
included.
Results
Table 1 details the source of the articles with over two thirds of the articles coming from
The Age or Sydney Morning Herald and most being review rather than news articles.
Table 1: The breakdown between news and review articles
NEWSPAPER NEWS REVIEW TOTAL

Australian 2 11 13
Age 49 89 138
Australian Financial Review 0 2 2
Sydney Morning Herald 24 64 88
Sunday Age 14 33 46
TOTAL 89 (31%) 199 (69%) 288
In 164 (57%) of the articles, stories about specific incidences were cited involving 79
different case studies. In a few incidences, there was a large number of articles about a
particular case. However, mostly a particular case was mentioned in only one or two
articles. Two cases had over 20 articles about each of them. The first occurred in
February 1995 and
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involved an incident in which a Melbourne taxi driver was robbed and stabbed by two
teenage boys aged 13 and 14. He was stabbed twice, his throat was slit and he was left
to bleed to death. The 31 articles about this incident occurred over an 11 month period
from the time of the crime, through the court hearings and the sentencing. The murder
shocked ordinary citizens when it became known how young the two accused boys
were. Details of the murder, the trials and the sentencing of ‘Jason’ and ‘Tom’ received
wide media coverage. The Weekend Australian asked in reference to ‘Tom’: “How does
a 13-year-old become a cold-blooded killer and enter the criminal records as possibly
Australia’s youngest convicted murderer?” (17-18 Aug. 1996).
The second case occurred in Sydney and was about a teenage girl, Anna, who over-
dosed on ecstasy. Twenty-three articles appeared in newspapers over a short time span
and the incident became politicised with the young woman who obtained the false
identification card for the victim being scapegoated. Not content with luxuriating in
Anna’s tragic death, sections of the media then proceeded to hound the schoolgirl who
sold the drug to Anna and her two friends – this prompted deputy Chief Magistrate
Graeme Henson to warn that a media witch-hunt “might end in two tragedies, not one”
(Sunday Age 22 March 1996: 17).
While most of the case studies involved young men, when a young woman was
involved, particularly in a violent crime, these were widely reported and became
sensational stories. An example of this was in the refuge worker killing in NSW. In June
1994, two teenage girls aged 15 and 17 decided to rob the youth refuge at which they
were staying and escape to Queensland. Their attempt to steal money from the safe in
the office led to the murder of the youth worker on duty that night; a married woman
with a young child. This murder shocked ‘ordinary’ citizens not only because of the
young age of the killers, but also because they were female. The articles tried to find a
cause for their behaviour. “Catherine is one of the youngest female murderers this State
has ever known. What makes girls so young turn into killers?” (SMH 17 Aug. 1995).
The use of images
Images were used in 56 (19%) articles and these included the five images detailed
earlier (Drury & Jamrozik, 1985; White, 1990; Young, 1996). The dominant images
were those of young people as a threat and young people as victims. There were also
variations around these images which meant that they were not as simplistic as the
earlier studies had found. Those being described as a threat tended to be classified in at
least one of the following four ways. Firstly, there were those who were seen to be a
threat because they were easily led as illustrated by ‘Jason’ in the taxi driver killing.
Secondly, there were others who were seen as being the leader in a criminal activity and
were classified as being particularly malevolent as was ‘Tom’ in the taxi driver killing.
The third group were a threat because they were evil and lacked the innocence normally
expected to be seen in
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children and could be classified according to Young’s (1996) evil non-children

category. The two girls who were found guilty of murdering the refuge worker fitted
into this category. The fourth group were the rebels who were portrayed as risk takers.
In some articles they were seen to be adventurers like the larrikins of the past who made
Australia great. In other articles they were seen to fool-hardy law breakers. For
example, train surfers, graffiti artists or car chasers whose adventuring spirit left them
dead were portrayed as adventurers in some articles, while in others they were portrayed
as being anti-social and a danger to society.
Those who were categorised by the media as victims acquired this status because of:
unfortunate circumstances, family breakdown, societal ills, other’s criminal behaviour,
or a welfare system that had let them down. For example, young people like Anna who
accidentally drug overdosed or others like David who had suicided or been abused
and/or were homeless were portrayed as victims.
This research, in comparison to the earlier research on images of young people, found
that more than one image could be used to describe the same young person. This is
illustrated in the two articles about David, a 16 year old who died after a drug overdose
(The Age 2 Feb. 1995; 13 & 3). He was well known to youth workers in the area, the
police, the Juvenile Justice System and the welfare system all of whom reputedly had
tried to help him. In these articles, the dichotomy of helpless versus responsible, good
versus bad, was portrayed with David’s life being pathologised in terms of a cycle of
crime, drugs, deliberate self-harm, depression, suicidal tendencies and helplessness. It
was reported that “David had been depressed”, “injected himself with a mixture of Coke
and Liquid paper”, “threatened to kill himself”, “had taken up a speed induced life of
roaming at night and sleeping all day” and “prostituting himself at 15 to earn money for
heroin” (The Age 2 Feb. 1995). Although David came from an economically advantaged
background, his family was seen as disadvantaged and dysfunctional – a single parent
family, his mother identified as a schizophrenic and intravenous drug user. This use of
words like ‘boy’ and ‘childlike’ to describe David helps to portray the image of David
as a victim, “the boy no-one could save” who was “badly burned by his lifestyle” but
who had “a certain childlike quality which remained even though he’d been through
some ghastly experiences”, “an impish boy with a Mona Lisa mouth” (The Age 2 Feb.
1995). The use of the term ‘boy’ conjures up the image of innocence, naivety and the
need of protection. The picture that his lawyer painted of David supported this image.
The only time the word ‘youth’ was used was in the title and there were no instances of
other pejorative terms being used. However, David was represented as a threat as well.
He was “a tough, street-hardened kid” with a “combination of street-worn attributes,
street wisdom and a hard edge”, and who was found by police with “knives in one hand
and syringes in the other”. By the use of these kinds of phrases, the journalist
juxtaposed two competing images of David as both a victim and a threat.
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In stories about young people who have been harmed or have harmed others, the papers
often sought to allocate blame. Family circumstances were described in 90 articles
(55% of the stories involving case studies). Details of family background in stories
about youth suicide, drug deaths, homelessness and murder tended to be expansive. The
more ‘dysfunctional’ the family was seen to be, the more detail was provided. The
family of young people who had been murdered seldom received the same exposure as
the family of young people accused of murder.
This focus on the perpetrator’s family encouraged the reader to see the family – or in
some cases, the State – as responsible for the young person’s misdemeanours. In the
taxi driver killing, Tom’s family was blamed for his criminal behaviour. In the refuge
worker murder, the horrific home lives of Catherine and Sharon were described in
graphic detail. In the case of David, the lack of a ‘good family’ and having a mother
who taught him how to inject himself with drugs when he was only 12, were identified
as the initial reasons for his drug habit and subsequent involvement in crime (The Age 2
Feb 1995). His continuation with this lifestyle was blamed on government departments.
The journalist was forceful in her attack on the Department of Health and Community
Services for not taking up a recommendation from Taskforce (a youth service funded
agency) to provide a drug-free, safe environment specially for adolescents. The myriad
of people who tried to help David, including youth workers and the court’s duty lawyer,
were represented as performing their roles under extreme difficulties. The article clearly
pointed out that it was the lack of appropriate facilities and resources that were the
contributing factors in David’s death.
In several other articles, the press was highly critical of Government Departments for
their lack of diligence in over-seeing the needs of children in their care
Young people as perpetrators of crime
Out of the 164 articles that involved a case study, 88 (54%) focussed on the perpetrators
of the crime, 25 (15%) focussed on the victims of a crime, and the remaining 51 (31%)
focussed on those who could be seen as victims of society. This confirms earlier
findings that although young people are more likely to be the victim than the perpetrator
of crime, this picture is not reflected in newspaper stories (Cunneen & White, 1995).
Table 2 gives a breakdown of the topics covered in the newspapers. Out of the 79 (27%)
separate articles about murder or manslaughter cases, 22 were about young people who
had been murdered, and 57 were about young people who had been accused of murder
or manslaughter. This result is particularly interesting considering that young people are
six times more likely to be murdered than to murder others (Cunneen & White, 1995).
Likewise while young people are at greater risk of unemployment than of being
murdered, only 2 percent of the articles were about youth unemployment.
173
Table 2 Topics covered in newspaper articles about

problematic young people
Main topic covered N %
Violent death
Murder/manslaughter 79 27.4
victim 22,
perpetrator 57
Drugs/drug over-dose 29 10.1
Suicide 10 3.5
Subtotal 118 40.9
Crime (not including murder)

Theft, petty 37 12.8
Violent death injury 22 7.6
Car chase 5 1.7
Subtotal 64 22.1
Social Issues
Drugs 29 10.0
Homelessness 18 6.2
Gangs 4 1.4
Poverty/unemployment 6 2.1
Subtotal 57 19.7
Juvenile justice
Juvenile justice system 11 3.8
Children’s court 12 4.2
Children in care 11 3.8
Subtotal 34 11.8
Others -
eg. bullying, detention, naming, abuse, false ID 16 5.5
etc
Total 288 100.0
Emotive language was used in 30 (10%) articles. Reports on bikie gangs were
particularly good examples of the use of unsubstantiated claims that have the potential
to create fear and moral panic. The following quote is reminiscent of the type of
reporting about gangs in England that was highlighted and made famous by Stanley
Cohen (1971).
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Today, to prevent infiltration, most gangs perform sadistic initiation rites. Recruits
must be nominated and seconded by long-term clubbers and admitted by a majority
of the group. “They bash, burn, chop and cut, the message being, if you think this is
severe, ‘dob us in’ and you’ll get far worse. It’s very effective,” the intelligence
source said. “The bikie culture is every nightmare you’ve imagined, plus one more,”
the source said. “The only law they obey is their own.” Bikers who have broken the
unwritten law have been banished, knee-capped, had tattoos and body extremities
burnt off, been boiled, and worse. Some are dead.
(Sydney Morning Herald, 17 June 1995: 30
Voices of young people in the print media
An analysis of the voices of young people in the print media supported earlier studies
with young people’s views being under-represented. Out of the total number of times
(599) that the views of people were cited, only 32 (5%) came from a young person and
four of these were taken from transcripts of court hearings (Figure 3). When isolating
those articles which were not about particular cases (124), but about issues relevant to
young people, only nine articles reported comments made by young people.
Table 3 Sources quoted in newspaper articles
Category N %
Criminal justice
Police 72 11.8
Members of Parliament 67 11.1
Agency -representative 63 10.8
Advocates: 59 10.5
eg social/youth worker, psychologist,
psychiatrist
Other Government
Judge 60 10.0
Lawyer 57 9.5
Journalist own views 51 8.5

Professional experts eg doctor, teacher, 48 8.0
clergy, criminologist
Family member/friends 43 7.2
Non-Government
Young person 32 5.3
Citizens - witnesses, etc 29 4.8
Researchers 11 1.8
Victim 7 1.1
Total 599 99.3
(n=288 articles)
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The results confirmed earlier findings (Youth Bureau, 1994) that police were quoted the
most frequently. Members of Parliament or their spokesperson were also frequently
quoted as also were advocates and ‘professional experts’. If lawyers and judges are
grouped together, then they are by far the most often quoted groups (20%). Welfare
agency spokespersons are also quoted frequently. This group includes representatives of
government departments like HCSV or DOCs, as well as non-government agencies and
young people advocates like Council for Civil Liberties. On issues like drugs, youth
unemployment or youth homelessness that are directly relevant to young people,
comments were sought from the experts and not from young people.
One example of the way in which the views of ‘responsible’ adults were aired while
those of young people were not canvassed, centred around car chases. In five articles
that concentrated on car chases, the following people were quoted: six Members of
Parliament, four police, one agency staff, one aboriginal leader, seven family members,
two adult friends, one coroner, one lawyer, and one young woman. Out of the 24 people
quoted, only one was a young person.
The reliance of journalists on court records is noteworthy in crime cases. In this study,
court records were used in 56 (20%) of the total articles and in 34 percent when
isolating those involving a specific case. Statistics were used in 63 (22%) of total
articles and official reports were quoted in 47 (17%) of them.
Conclusion
While the images described by Drury and Jamrozik (1985) and then White (1990) were
useful as a starting point, they proved to be too restrictive because the media’s portrayal
of young people tended to be more complex than their simple categorisation allowed.
The research found that there were variations within each image according to the
specific situation and the implied meaning. Likewise, more than one image could be
used to describe the same person and these images could be in juxtaposition, with the
result that often the reader was presented with a two-dimensional rather than a one-
dimensional picture.
Even taking into account the fact that the study focussed on specific issues about young
people, the results confirm that young people are misrepresented and their views under-
represented in the media. Taking the articles as a whole, a pessimistic view of young
people emerges because the focus tended to be on young people committing a crime,
rather than being the recipients of crime. Their misdemeanours are highlighted and their
real concerns about their future prospects down-played. They are portrayed by images
which were determined not by themselves, but by respected and respectable
spokespersons from an earlier generation. In these ways, their voices are suppressed,
and they are denied public space in the mass media.
176
Young people, like the rest of society are not an homogenous group, and no one group
of young people can be said to represent all of them. For this reason, to merely report
the views of the most articulate and well-educated young people will be repeating the
error that occurs when their adult counter-parts are quoted. More attention needs to be
directed to getting the views of a diverse range of young people.
177
References
Bessant, J. 1996. ‘Reforming Victoria’s child and adolescent services: Citizenship

rights and young people’. Just Policy 5: 31-42.
Crane, P. 1996. ‘Whose views? Whose interests? The absence of young people’s voices
in mainstream media reports on crime’. Young People Staking Their Claim
Conference, RMIT, Melbourne.
Cunneen, C. & R. White 1995. Juvenile justice: An Australian perspective, Melbourne:

Oxford University Press.
Cohen, S. 1973. ‘Mods and rockers: The inventory as manufacture news.’ In S. Cohen
& J. Young (eds). The Manufacture of News. London: Constable Books.
Ericson, R., Baranek, P. & Chan, J. 1989. Negotiating Control: A Study of News
Sources. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Ewen, J. 1994, ‘Youth participation: Concepts and structures’. Youth Studies (Spring),
13-20.
Gale, F., Bailey-Harris, R. & Wundersitz, J. 1990. Aboriginal Youth and the Criminal
Justice System, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Hartley, R. & Wolcott, I. 1994. ‘Young people and families.’ Family Matters
38(August): 12-16.
Jamrozik, A. 1995. Social and Cultural Transformation in Australia, Melbourne:

Cambridge University Press.
Kaplun, M. 1995. Promoting Youth Participation: A Rights Perspective, Sydney:

National Children’s and Youth Law Centre.
Muncie, J. (ed.) 1981. Talking About Crime: Notions of Crime and Justice, Milton
Keynes: Open University Press.
O’Sullivan, T. 1995. ‘City of fear’. Alternative Law Journal 2: 94-96.
Sandor, D. 1996. ‘The Age: Lies, damned lies and statistics’. Alternative Law Journal
1: 42-43.
Sercombe, H. 1993. Easy pickings: The Children’s Court and the economy of news
production. Murdoch University/Edith Cowan University.
Webber, R. 1990. Kids in Justice: A Blueprint for the 90s. Full report of the Youth
Justice Project, Youth Justice Coalition: Law Foundation of New South Wales, New
South Wales.
178
Wundersitz, J. 1993. ‘Some statistics on youth offending’. in F. Gale, N. Naffine & J.

Wundersitz (eds). Juvenile justice: Debating the issues, Sydney: Allen & Unwin.
White, R. 1994. ‘Youth rights, social responsibility and the politics of denial’.
Transitions 2: 4-11.
Young, J. 1971. ‘The role of the police as amplifiers of deviance’. in S. Cohen (ed.)
Images of Deviance, Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Young, A. 1996. Imagining Crime: Textual Outlaws and Criminal Conversations,

London: Sage.
179
180
PART 3:
AGRICULTURE AND SOCIAL SUSTAINABILITY
181
182
‘Country’ stories:
13 oral history and sustainability research
Heather Goodall and Damian Lucas
Land, rivers and memory: an introduction
While there are technical issues involved in moving towards more sustainable practices,
underlying them are the beliefs and worldviews of the participants in rural life. Their
decisions to defend existing practices and lifestyles or to participate in changes are
based not only on technical information but on their wider valuation of landscape,
lifestyle and social networks. The word ‘sustainability’ has many different meanings
depending on individual priorities: for some, it is desirable to sustain productivity, for
others to sustain the aesthetic qualities of their surroundings, but for others again, the
priority is to sustain not physical environment but social networks, to allow a rich adult
community life but even more importantly the possibility for that to continue into the
future for their children.
The Black Soil Country project draws on oral history methodology to contribute to an
understanding of the influences on rural populations in their approaches to
environmental change. We are recording life histories which include observations of the
environment from residents in north-west NSW and south-west Queensland. The
interviews seek initially to elicit memories of landscape and particularly of water use in
the interviewee’s childhood or their earliest experiences of the district, and then to ask
for observations of changes in the environment. The interviewees are invited to explain
such changes, and to identify their own responses to continuing processes of
environmental, economic and social change in the area. Beyond maintaining a roughly
chronological sequence to the interviews, we are conducting interviews which are
relatively unstructured, allowing interviewees to control the topics, sequence and
emphasis of interviews rather than have them respond to a curtailed set of questions in a
prescribed order. In this way, we hope to gain greater insight into the issues which the
interviewee holds to be important and into the structure of their own explanations,
rather than imposing assumptions.
The Black Soil Country itself is the great fan of alluvial flood plain of the upper Darling
River in NSW and Queensland, and this project has paid particular attention to the
‘Border Rivers’ of the Culgoa-Balonne and the Narran systems. The project began with
a focus on the impacts of rapidly expanding industrialised agriculture, particularly the
cotton industry. In early research, it became apparent that water was emerging as the
focal
183
contested issue not only for cotton but for any other intensification of land use in the
region. Just as significantly, the intimate relation between land and water on the flood
plain became more evident: the rich, black soil alluvial plains which support both
grazing pasture and agriculture are created and recreated by the unrestrained water of
the flooding Darling and its tributaries. Revealingly, the traditional stories of Aboriginal
landowners demonstrate a strong focus on water sources. They tell great dramatic sagas
which explain the creation of water sources and which draw on the rivers themselves,
with their embedded rocks and the flow of water over them, to demonstrate the
continued presence and power of sacred beings. These factors have all shifted the focus
of the Black Soil Country project from one in which soil and land degradation were
prominent to one in which water, physically and symbolically, has become dominant.
The society of the Black Soil lands is complex and often contradictory. It has had a
history of intense conflict since the British invasion began in the area in the 1840s.
Kamilaraay, Yuwalaraay and Murawarri peoples resisted attempts to remove them from
their land and during the 1850s became an integral part of the pastoral workforce, a role
they continued in much of the area until the 1930s. This allowed them to continue close
association with their own country and they are a strong and increasing presence in the
western townships along the Darling and its tributaries. The majority of the white
population in the region until the 1970s were involved in grazing concerns or worked in
township-based industries which supported sheep farming. The largest grazing concerns
were company owned and managed, but the symbolic force of the ‘family farm’ has
always been powerfully emotive among the families who did control extensive grazing
properties as well as those who moved to take up the smaller ‘closer settlement’ and
‘soldier settlement’ blocks which were partitioned in both NSW and Queensland after
each of the two World Wars. Over many generations, these families have created a
strong sense of belonging and entitlement to land and to social pre-eminence.
More recent incoming farmers since the early 1980s have begun highly mechanised
irrigated cropping, challenging the economic and social dominance of grazing families,
and placing very different demands on land and river resources. Since the 1930s, when
environmental disaster combined with economic Depression to force some recognition
of the ecological fragility of the Western Division in NSW, the shifts in rural land use
have been managed and monitored by an array of officials, many of whom were
scientifically trained. These officers – of the departments such as Soil Conservation,
National Parks and Wildlife, and Water Resources – at first often saw themselves as
assistants of Australia’s mighty wool industry, but more recently have positioned
themselves at some distance from both old and new industries, aligning themselves as
responsible, not only to local farmers, but to a wider, public constituency.
The Black Soil Country project is seeking to elicit perceptions of the changing
environment from each of these major groups, recognising that men and women within
each are likely to have very different experiences
184
and interpretations. To date, alongside many informal discussions and observations, 61

formal in-depth interviews have been recorded for this project, made up of interviews
with 23 graziers (38%), 14 Aboriginal people (all town residents except for one grazier)
(23%), 12 non-Aboriginal town residents (20%), 8 irrigators (13%) and 4 (7%)
scientists. These have been compared with a large number of formal recorded
interviews conducted among the Aboriginal population of the area in the course of
related research by one of the authors in which relations to land were addressed
(Goodall, 1996).
In interviewing people from each of these groups, the project assumes that sustained
local observation may be able to identify changes in the environment which are not
noticed in occasional surveys conducted by outsiders. Conversely, it is also possible
that the outsider’s observations may highlight changes which have been masked for
longer term residents by everyday familiarity. This approach of comparing local
observations with scientific reports has been undertaken fruitfully by Ruth Lane (1996)
in her work on the Snowy River area, where plantation timber has, like intensive
irrigated farming, changed the appearance and experience of the landscape for long time
residents. For this section of our research, it is assumed that varying opportunities to
observe watercourses will have created contrasting bodies of memories, so that
fishermen with long hours sitting on or by the water will recall very different details of
the river’s past from those remembered by drovers, whose encounters with the river
were tangential to the stock routes and whose pragmatic needs were for efficient stock
watering. Not only occupation, of course, but class will shape opportunity. Those
fishermen with motor cars and boats will have had very different experiences of the
riverine environment than those who have walked for kilometres along the bank to a
favourite fishing spot and then sat for hours under the river gums to wait for a bite.
Yet, what the memories of these different groups of people share is the quality that they
are all far more than repetitions of isolated pieces of raw information, saved whole from
empirical experiences in the past. Their observations and experiences will always have
been shaped by their values and wider cultural frameworks, by what they expect to see
and by the way their cultural and social group has taught them to value it. So, not only
what each group or individual remembers, but what they forget, as well as how they
explain and evaluate what they recall, gives insights into the way local cultures shape
perceptions of interactions with the environment.
Furthermore, retelling those memories to an audience, whether to a researcher or to

one’s grandchildren, allows opportunities to recompose memories into explanations of
the present. As has been widely demonstrated in much oral history research, and as is
evident in Australian public debate today, people frequently mobilise particular
accounts of the past not only to explain but to justify and authorise their current choices,
alliances and decisions (Darian-Smith & Hamilton, 1994). The Black Soil Country
project is interested in this dimension, too, of memory. We are recording how versions
of the past can be used in contestations over the
185
condition of the environment, as well as over what should be done in the future. We are
interested in memories of land change, not only for the empirical data they reveal,
valuable as that may be, but for the insights memory offers into how culture and politics
affect decisions about land. The stories people are telling us about land and water are
not simple mirrors to the past, but are stories of their country, a ‘country’ composed as
much in their imaginations as in their lived experiences.
William Cronon (1992) has analysed accounts of the history of the Great Plains in the
United States in ways helpful for the Black Soil Country project. The Great Plains was
an area not dissimilar to the north-western flood plain, an area that promised much but
was found to be far more difficult than expected for European farmers to make
productive. Cronon has demonstrated that in writing accounts of the past, historians
may draw on similar empirical material, but in order to analyse it in a way meaningful
to an audience must create a narrative which relies on chronology and causation to
create a sense of explanation of what would otherwise be fragmented and unrelated
data. All the histories of the Great Plains fall into one of two patterns: (1) they are either
narratives of progress, in which European farmers use their knowledge and technology
to make the land profitable after many hardships; or (2) they are narratives of decline
and failure, in which European farmers misread the environment, damaging it with their
technology and farming methods, until they are left with a depleted and decaying
environment where profitability is limited and transitory.
Cronon has pointed out that each of these narratives or plots demands a particular view
of the land on which the drama is played out, a changing scenery which is consistent
with the unfolding of the plot. If the plot is one of progress, then the land at the time of
European entry must be seen as lacking something, either as just unproductive or at
worst as a dangerous wilderness, and it must be described as changing over time to
blossom into the successfully tamed and productive garden. For the historians to
identify a plot of decline, then the land must be described as having been productive and
rich initially, and then to have suffered losses and damage as farming continued. For the
northern flood plain of the Darling, just as much as for the Great Plains, the Black Soil
country project is investigating whether interviewees tend to ‘remember’ particular
patterns of environmental change depending on their overall interpretation of historical
impacts in the region.
While interviewing continues and analysis of the results is still proceeding, it is already
apparent that there are significant differences as well as some commonalities in the way
each of these groups remembers and observes land and water. One issue in particular
has emerged from our interviews as a recurrent and complex area of contested meaning.
This is the wide divergence in the understanding of the terms ‘stewardship’ or
‘custodianship’ as applied to relations to land and water. This paper will explore this
and some of the other issues arising in the accounts offered by graziers, irrigators and
Aboriginal people.
186
Differences in memory
The memories offered demonstrate that both occupation and culture shape observation
and interpretation of water. Graziers in the area have for a long time been able to draw
on rainwater (in ground and overhead tanks), artesian water (from bores), and river
water – but there are many distinctions in the way each type of water is used. Bore
water is often heavily mineralised although each bore will be unique in its level of
contamination. Both men and women in grazing families assumed bore water to be
suitable for stock watering, but not for the more intimate and home-making purpose of
watering the garden which surrounds the homestead, which had often had the precious
remaining rainwater even in the most severe droughts.
Families would use river water to wash themselves, but girls remember the luxury of
using rainwater to wash their hair, particularly if they were fair, as the river water left
discolouring deposits of fine mud. Young children and mothers remember using the
river as a recreational resource, swimming sometimes in summer, although the ground
tanks were also used and were felt to be safer. Muddy, brown water was a cause of
anxiety to parents, as were the steep banks, making the river a worrying place to be with
young children. The opacity of the water, the fears about drowning and not being
sighted in muddy water (often exacerbated by knowledge of reedbeds and snags) and
the deposits in washed clothes and hair, all contributed to an unease about the river,
particularly for newcomers from the coast or the southern river areas. In the
recollections of most white grazing people, the river is not regarded simply as muddy,
but with more emotive associations as unclean, murky and threatening.
Women have more unambiguous memories of adult parties on the river, picnics and
social events where the private property of the pastoral lease could protect an invited
group of neighbours or townspeople in comfortable sociability. Occasionally hinted at,
women who grew up in towns and on properties remember the riverbanks as the places
of secret teenage rendezvous, places away from prying interference by adults. Few
grazing men and even less women continued to use the river for fishing once they had
grown up, and the occasional person who continued to fish recreationally as an adult,
usually using a boat, was remarked on.
The most striking recurrent memory of rivers for grazing people is undoubtedly the
times of flood, when the rivers broke their banks and marked out the high ground,
where stock clung together if their owners hadn’t been able to get them out in time.
These were the red hills, the slightly raised and often stony areas which seldom flooded
and so were not covered in the black silt left by earlier inundations. The soil colour, and
the vegetation which favoured one type of soil or the other, were markers for the grazier
of where the refuge areas would be when the waters began to rise, and mapped out a
strategy for movements of people and stock in emergencies. Such stony red areas might
have little pasture cover in dry
187
years, but were important for graziers in floods, giving a flexibility which was often
eroded when the larger properties were cut up for closer settlement. Just as small
properties had little flood refuge, they also often missed out on the very localised
rainfall of the area. A grazing woman lamented that these cut-down properties were ‘too
small to chase a storm’, to move stock rapidly to take advantage of new pasture coming
through after brief local rain.
The floods themselves are remembered as times of difficulty, when families were
isolated by flood waters and the lives of stock and often people were in danger. Some
memories carry the excitement of heroic efforts and grave risks, a high point of tense
drama among otherwise mundane recollections. For others, both grazing families and
townspeople, the floods may be recalled as times of community solidarity and joint
effort, when environmental threat drew people together in a common struggle, causing
them to recognise and reaffirm their loyalty to each other, one source of ‘country-
mindedness’. For Aboriginal town residents, floods held far more ambivalent memories,
often of being left outside the hastily built levee banks, or isolated over the gully on the
reserve, with no access to a boat and no interest from the locally staffed ‘civil defence’
crews.
For many grazing people, floods are valued as sources of water, but can also be blamed
as a danger to pasture if the water drains away only slowly. The floods of 1956 and
1976 which took so long to recede are conveniently seen as the cause of the Mitchell
grass disappearing. Most graziers so far interviewed would rather receive their water
from rainfall than from flood. There is notably little appreciation of the flood as a silt
bearing flow, of the mud as necessary for enriching the pasture land as the water that
carries it. Only those most alert to environmental politics are now rather awkwardly
adding into their recollections an awareness of the value of the silt which is being
severely reduced as dams and weirs are built to assist irrigated agriculture. Some of
these graziers, aware of the contest over floodwaters, have started to quantify the dollar
value of flood events in their accounts.
The irrigators interviewed had very different things to say about water. While some of
them had only been in the region for 20 years, others had come into the industry from
grazing and had a much longer memory of water and land change. The concern with
water for irrigation has refined many agriculturalists’ awareness of water, demonstrated
in their often detailed discussions of the possibility of flows from the many tributaries
of the river at any point and the quantity and quality of the water. But the characteristics
which are sought by irrigators are different from those sought by graziers. Irrigators
want regularity, transportability, measurability and purity. All these characteristics
allow water to be moved rapidly and efficiently through pumps, along irrigation
channels and, very occasionally, through charcoal purifiers into narrow underground
drip irrigation pipes. So irrigators remember levels and duration of flow in the river, and
the different sources of water rises because they may lead to different levels of irritating
sediments (which of course to the grazier would be regarded as valuable silt). Irrigators
speak about the rivers as they relate
188
their histories of increasing control over the rivers, the addition of new pumps, of more
channels and, recently, of huge off-river storages. The river is there as a resource, to be
clarified, managed, measured and now stored. Even fewer irrigators than graziers say
they have time to spend on the river to fish or for other recreation, although some
deeply appreciate the dawn and dusk checking of the pumps which has offered them
opportunities to observe the river at moments when it is breathtakingly beautiful as
birds are rising or are coming in to roost.
Irrigators, like some graziers, frequently use the metaphor of ‘stewardship’ to describe
their approach to managing their land and the water on which they depend. In
describing their responsibilities to the children they hope will inherit their business, they
use the biblical reference to the parable of the ‘Good Steward’, who was given an
amount of money to care for, invested it and increased it. This model of careful,
responsible behaviour which is relentlessly aimed at change and expansion is
widespread and deeply held among white farming populations in the Black Soil area.
The term ‘stewardship’ is particularly used by irrigators as they explain their new
investments in off-river storages, the huge, often multiple 20,000 megalitre dams which
are being filled at every opportunity offered by even small rises, with the water being
stored for later irrigation use and sometimes, it is rumoured, for sale. Often built in
response to the attempts by government authorities to control and reduce the draining of
water from the rivers for irrigation, these storages are not regarded by irrigators as
cunning attempts to avoid the law. Instead, the storages are regarded as a sound,
responsible and moral use of cotton profits, which will secure the future of the
enterprise and ‘save’ water which would otherwise be ‘wasted’ in downstream
evaporation or other unspecified but apparently profligate use.
Interestingly, the term ‘stewardship’ is now in use by advocates of sustainable

agriculture and land use (Roberts, 1995), for whom the exponentially increased demand
on river flow which these huge storages are making is cause for grave concern. So a
deeper appreciation of the complex and often contradictory meanings associated with
the metaphor may be helpful in improving communication among participants in
discussions around sustainability.
The Aboriginal community who live along the Darling and its many tributaries have
very different memories again of water. Most of the Aboriginal people interviewed for
this project remember a very different river from that remembered by either graziers or
irrigators. Aborigines have seldom had access to the capital for rainwater tanks or bores,
and where their homes have been on reserves or camps, they have usually only very
recently been connected to townwater. Instead, the river has been their sole source of
water for drinking, washing, food gathering and recreation. Rather than the necessary
but threatening river of the graziers, or the purified and quantifiable resource of the
irrigators, Aboriginal people have focussed their recollections on a flow of water
crowded with living things and with stories.
189
Fishing continues to be a central part of the Aboriginal economy in the region, and may
have become even more important as employment in the grazing industry declined since
the 1960s. Aboriginal memories are full of accounts of fishing trips, for which people
used to walk miles (as they say) from named bend to named bend. The names of all
these twists of the river and curving sandy beaches are seldom in the original local
languages, although some like Mirrigunna on the Barwon have been retained. Now the
names are in English, but the purpose of naming is the same as it always was, to identify
and talk about the familiar shape of places used frequently for many different purposes.
Although cars are now used more often than long walks to reach favourite fishing spots,
Aboriginal people have tended to use the more public and visible closer fishing sites
around towns more frequently than whites because the gates to the pastoral properties
were increasingly locked against the traditional owners once there was no longer a
sheep economy that could support large numbers of resident Aboriginal stock workers.
Aboriginal people still usually walk to fish, and seldom use boats. They speak with
intimate detail of the fish that used to be, or are still, in the river, and of the turtles,
mussels, yabbies and ducks – many of these species never noticed or mentioned by
white residents of the area. Aborigines talk, too, of the new plague of European Carp
which since 1976 seem to have taken over the rivers and destroyed the reed breeding
grounds of native fish.
Aborigines can describe the minutiae of riverbank ecology, the beetles, spiders and
worms, all the things you notice when you sit waiting for a bite or looking after children
on the bank. But they talk, too, of the stories they were told by their old uncles and
grannies who taught them not only how to swim and fish, but about how the rivers and
waterholes were formed, about the heroic mythic figures of people and animals who
struggled over loves and dangers and in the process created the rivers, lakes, springs
and complex rock formations. So children learn not only where the dangerous holes and
treacherous currents are, but how the land and water formations were created by their
spiritual ancestors in epic struggles of great excitement and drama. The experiences of
learning these stories in company with family members – siblings and cousins who
share the pleasure of swimming, and parents and grandparents to protect and teach – has
been the common way in which Aboriginal people come to know the rivers of their
country. During the 1880s and 1890s, Katherine Langloh-Parker (1905) wrote about
watching the Yuwalaraay hunting, fishing, swimming and teaching their children on the
Narran. Today, any day in the 1990s, Aboriginal people can be seen taking part in the
same social and cultural processes along the rivers of the Darling system.
But there are additional dimensions to Aboriginal memories of the rivers, in which the
rivers are described as refuges, safe places because of the steep banks and inaccessible
bends, away from the judgemental intrusions of white townspeople and the invasive
surveillance of the police. So rivers have come to hold complex social meanings for
Aboriginal people – dealing with colonialism which has created both the often
conflictual relations with white townspeople, as well as the pressure cooker tensions
which build up within
190
reserve communities where unemployment and alcohol generate stressful conditions. As

Aboriginal people recount their lifestories, rivers and waterholes thread through them
constantly as places of family memories, of food gathering and continuing economic
survival, as places of richly and pleasurably observed plant and animal life, sites of
wonderful rich stories of creation and ethical struggles, and as places of safety and
privacy, secure from either prying whites or troublesome black neighbours.
Furthermore, when Aboriginal people are asked about the river directly, they respond
with a perception of the river which is philosophical as well as practical. Joe Flick Snr,
a Kamilaraay elder interviewed for this project during 1996, was asked if he thought
much about the river when he was away from his traditional country. He responded in a
way which continues to be characteristic of Aboriginal people in the area:
Oh, it always worries me. That river is always worrying me. It’s always worrying
me. We have these big catchment (off-river storage) areas, but that’s not natural, it’s
a catchment, it’s not the natural river, that’s not the river at all, they’ve just got these
big catchments. I think this river has got to be freed ... You see that’s our religion.
The Rainbow Serpent, he made all this river for us to look after. And, now, we look
at that river as a provider that the Mother (the Land) said; “You’ve got to have
something besides me – and that snake (the Rainbow Serpent) there see – and I am
going to give you fish”. All these sort of things that’s got to be looked after that’s
important to us, that’s survival, in all ways that river is survival, that’s why it’s so
important to us.
Joe Flick here expressed a sense of fundamental responsibility for the continued
condition of the river, commonly-held and stated by Aboriginal people in north-west
NSW, and understood to be a religious undertaking to conserve and maintain the river’s
resources as they have been known over many generations. This sense of the
responsibility involved in ownership is seen as a relationship of reciprocity in which the
river (and the land) provide sustenance if cared for and respected properly. This
reciprocal sense of ownership and responsibility is consistent with Aboriginal relations
with their country in other parts of Australia, and the relationship is often described as
‘custodianship’, in an attempt to convey a state of ownership which demands
obligations as well as conferring rights. This conception of ‘custodianship’ of the river
to conserve its properties and its living resources is in direct contradiction to the
concept of ‘stewardship’ commonly expressed by irrigators and some graziers to mean
the obligation to change and make profitable the ‘natural’ resources in the region.
Life stories in this project have already revealed some of the very different
understandings of rivers which each of these ‘stakeholder’ groups brings to the
discussions they are now sharing in situations like the Catchment Management
Committee. Only if these diversities in the very conceptualisation of the river are better
understood can communication and productive discussion be facilitated on questions
like the amount of river flow which should be guaranteed for ‘environmental’ flows.
Even more deeply, as members of each of the groups discussed above has told their
lifestory, they have portrayed themselves as being in very different
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relationships to the river, with deeply held convictions of responsibilities as either

stewards or custodians, roles which at first sound similar but which are in fundamental
contradiction. Appreciation of such underlying differences are again an important basis
for establishing real communication in regional negotiations for future land and river
management.
Commonalities in memory
Despite the great diversity in the perception of rivers and land which emerge in
memories among groups in the Black Soil country, there are also some areas of
commonality. Now that the rapid expansion of irrigated cotton farming has coincided
with a severe and prolonged drought, water shortages have become acute for all users.
Common interests have begun to become apparent between Aboriginal people, graziers
and townspeople as they fear shortages in their domestic water and that they will be put
at personal and commercial risk by chemical residues from agricultural spraying, or
through water pollution. Memories of irregular flows (the little ‘freshes’) and of more
water generally in the rivers are shared among long-time residents of all groups, and are
used to explain dissatisfaction with the current situation.
On the other hand, cotton irrigators are sceptical, putting down current shortages to the
prolonged drought. But many Aborigines and graziers explain that their memories are of
changes in the type of flow with the loss of the frequent ‘freshes’, the small rises and
falls which characterised the river’s flow, and which are now longer there. When a
small rise does come down the river, it no longer ‘tails off’ but ends abruptly, often with
a sharp drop in river height as, the watchers assume, many pumps are turned on.
Volumes of flows have decreased, with moderate rises no longer ‘breaking out’ of the
channels in as many places as they used to, or as often. A number of graziers are also
able to compare flows in minor streams on or near their property, where only one has
been affected by upstream irrigation demands. In these cases, flows which used to be
similar are now markedly different, with the river affected by irrigation having a greatly
reduced flow rate and no ‘freshes’, while the non-irrigation river continues to flow with
its habitual volume and pattern.
More difficult to analyse at this stage are the striking commonalities particularly
between Aboriginal and grazing interviewees, but also some cotton farmers, of a deep
association between family and land. The rhetorical dominance of the ‘family farm’ in
all debates around land policy and practice in Australia is well known, and in the Black
Soil country there is a strong desire to continue ‘family’ farming as the reality of
economic and social organisation in the area. Characteristically, this ‘family’ on the
‘family farm’ is described as nuclear, but with a number of generations, in which the
sons are seen as participating in and potentially inheriting the parent’s business. In the
stressed western areas, women take a high profile role in much grazing work, and in at
least some of the political arenas
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where environmental politics are fought out. It still seems to be the case, however, that
the ‘family’ on whom the imagination of the farming community is fixed, is a
conventional, patriarchal family like the common situation described by Margaret
Alston (1995). The reality of many grazing concerns is that environmental deterioration
compounded by drought and the withdrawal of social infrastructure like schools means
that running a ‘family farm’ means increasingly that families are stressed as parents
work second off-farm jobs and are separated so that mothers can look after children
who attend school in ever more distant townships rather than face the isolation of
distance through ‘School of the Air’ and other services. Yet ‘family’ is a central iconic
element in most people’s expression of hopes and goals.
For Aboriginal people, the situation is rather different, as for so long they have been
excluded by poverty from formal ownership of any of the land they regard as their
traditional country. Yet many Aboriginal people have continued to live as closely as
possible to that country, and they speak about land in terms of their extended family’s
experience of it. So an Aboriginal interviewee relating their lifestory will usually give
an account of where their grandparents and parents were born, on which properties they
worked and lived, where they most frequently lived and travelled, and which places
were special to them. The actual birth sites of parents and grandparents are celebrated
and visited if they are accessible, and even more frequently visited are the grave sites of
near relations. This can provoke conflict with graziers, who have increasingly tried to
close off their pastoral leases to Aborigines. Mechanisation and property subdivision
after the 1940s made the interwar high-levels of Aboriginal employment and residence
no longer economically viable. Aboriginal families have sometimes been able to gain
access to graves on properties secretly, visiting them without the grazing lessee’s
knowledge, but if this hasn’t been possible, then at least children are told where their
grandparents and great grandparents are buried. So the land which was, only a few
generations ago, travelled across freely – as Aboriginal men and women and families
moved from one workplace to another, or from one traditional place to another – now is
mainly told about in stories, with occasional, highly planned visits to try to co-ordinate
favourable permissions from leaseholders.
The rivers have remained much more accessible: towns where Aboriginal residence is
now concentrated are always on a river site, and there are reserves of various kinds
which allow access along the riverbank. For now at least, rivers cannot be constrained
as private property because under the Western Lands Leases regulations in NSW,
although Aboriginal access is not guaranteed, the lessees must grant access to any
traveller seeking a path to a waterway. As fishing has remained such a vital part of the
Aboriginal economy, visits to the river to fish have been a necessity as well as a great
pleasure. So Aboriginal children continue to grow up with their experience of the river
shaped by their extended family networks, and remembered in the context of family.
They remember a great range of visits: small family trips to fish with an uncle or cousin,
swimming trips with cousins, larger groups sitting on the river for hours, catching the
fish and
193
yabbies and cooking them up on a fire on the bank, listening to stories about the way the
rivers were made. Sometimes Aboriginal youngsters visited the river with white friends,
which gave them some experience in boats, but most often it was the wide extended
family which shaped living and learning about the river.
There are strong divergences in these uses of ‘family’. The European concept is a
tightly bounded patriarchal unit in which fenced property and inheritance are central.
The Aboriginal family is an extended and inclusive network, which stresses reciprocal
use, distribution of resources and learning as the key elements of family relations to
land. There are also many areas of confusion. Recent Aboriginal purchases of grazing
properties through funds finally made available by Land Rights legislation are
resentfully perceived by white farmers to be ‘corporate’ purchases inimical to ‘family
farming’. For the Aboriginal people involved, these purchases are deeply ‘family’
processes, allowing younger Aboriginal people finally to be recognised as the owners of
land on which their great grandparents were born, worked and were buried. Yet despite
the divergences, it seems important to recognise that both white and Aboriginal groups
are stressing the importance of family networks in decisions about managing land and
water. The commitment to these values – which go beyond the commercial – are shared
between Aboriginal and white land holders, and this may become increasingly
important as the environmental fragility of both grazing and cropping enterprises
becomes even more starkly emphasised in a continuing drought.
Memory and conflict
Conflict around local development decisions simmers constantly in the Black Soil
country these days. It is usually negotiated patiently around the committee room table,
at least for those parties who can gain a seat on the committee, but on occasions
disputes flare up in bitter public debate and newspaper disputation. These conflicts
demonstrate the ways in which participants, holding the differing worldviews, interact
and may draw on these views to influence or polarise the others. Participants mobilise
arguments in order to advance their positions – such as that development of resources is
needed for progress in the region, or that changes should be resisted because it will
damage the area’s ecological integrity. More than sites of expression, conflict situations
are also spaces where the composure of participants’ roles and the roles of others –
allies, rivals and enemies – are forged and sharpened. The experience of being involved
in community processes, often involving deep acrimony over many years, demands that
the participants compose a strong narrative or argument in order to make sense of the
situation and advance their own arguments. The strength of these narratives has been
clearly evident in oral history interviews with participants who recount their versions of
the conflict and in observing interactions in public forums. One of the key factors which
shapes the recounted and observed narratives, and is revealed by them, is accounts of
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the participant’s historical relationship with, and perception of, land and water in the
locality.
This section draws upon a similar study of contests over the management and use of
water resources on the Culgoa-Balonne River system in south-west Queensland over the
past 40 years. The river flows in a south-westerly direction through St George in Qld
before crossing the NSW border where it divides into many channels across an alluvial
floodplain. One branch becomes the Narran River, which ends into the significant
wetland known as the Narran Lake. The other channels eventually join the Barwon
River around Brewarrina and flow into the Darling.
The development of water resources has been the main agricultural dynamic in the area
for decades. In the 1950s and 1960s, the Queensland State government built a weir and
then a dam at St George to provide for a government-regulated irrigation area and other
water uses. In the mid 1980s, following the success of the irrigation area and
government promotion, farmers downstream of St George developed intensive
irrigation based on licences. Further down the river on the rich floodplain soils near
Dirranbandi, a number of large-scale irrigation farms were developed from the late
1980s, the most prominent of these to date being Cubbie Station. Graziers on the
floodplains downstream have claimed that these developments have affected the
beneficial flooding on which the grazing pastures relied. These issues resurfaced in the
past few years, during the time our fieldwork was being carried out, with a proposal to
build an additional public off-stream storage at St. George. These changes have taken
place in the local context of increased calls for water security as cropping has become
more intensive, the perception of scarcity of water has increased, and there has been a
decline in the tradition grazing industries and the related support services.
One of the most striking things about the conflicts around land and water use in the
locality is the use of claims of historical relations to land made when people are
advancing arguments about future developments. A range of contending groups have
each cast themselves in the emotive role of being the custodians of the local
environment. These groups come from different and opposing sides of the debates,
many of them within the one occupational group.
Graziers are such a group, sharing a similar historical experience and standing within
the local community, but demonstrating significant differences around the claimed role
of custodian and the object for which they claim to be caring. Some graziers cast their
role as being custodians for the area as a physical place. They raise arguments that
natural limits and natural systems should be respected. Their position is greatly
strengthened because the most devastating impacts of sheep grazing on the rangelands
environment occurred in the 1880s and 1890s, after which degradation has continued at
a much slower pace. There is therefore no living memory and only subtle evidence
demonstrating this devastating impact, and graziers can readily depict themselves as
having had a low impact and
195
sympathetically conservative approach to land management. They do this when they

implicitly argue that their land management practices have supported the integrity of
eco-systems, wetlands and floodplains, or at least have been well suited to this land
system. Graziers who represent themselves in this way depict their goal as maintaining
the health of the their pastoral enterprises and the natural eco-system. Achieving this
goal, they claim, is made more difficult by the large volumes of water now being
extracted from the river system by irrigators, decreasing the frequency of beneficial
flooding particularly at low river flows. In this narrative, the land and its water are cast
as a place of natural and physical integrity, which co-exists with productive grazing
enterprises.
Another group of graziers cast their role as being custodians of the land as a social
network. Their goal is to support enterprises and ideas which increase the well-being of
the people living on the land, with well-being defined by income generation which is
assumed to foster increasing population and strengthening social infrastructure.
Prominent graziers depict themselves as ‘patrons’ to the local town, supporting
community life, the sporting clubs, and advocating for the infrastructure improvements
for the town, the hospital, the airport and the like. Closely linked to this position is the
self-portrayal by these graziers in their role as ‘innovators’, bringing new ideas to the
district. With new ideas come new possibilities for wealth creation and the potential for
fulfilling the goal of advancing the growth and development of the district. This role is
embedded in an account of the local history which presents a narrative of the
modification of the land and vegetation to suit the economic needs and available
technology of the day.
Over the last 30 years – with the decline of the grazing industry and with irrigators
bringing new resources and technology to the locality –irrigators have vied for, and
taken on, the roles of patrons and innovators. They see themselves as providing for the
district in terms of services, jobs and fulfilling superficial but important community
obligations such lending equipment for local fetes and supporting local community
organisations. The irrigators either upgraded from other agriculture, or more often came
to the district, either from overseas or from within Australia. They had expectations of
the availability of water resources and a climate supportive of development; their goal
was to fulfil these expectations and gain security to the resources they claimed as
entitlements. The land, in this narrative, is cast as awaiting efficient development. As
one irrigator said about water for environmental flows for wetlands, “The floodplains
are a sponge. The floodplains are a sponge for water, soon we will find ways of using
that water better”. In this narrative, the land itself is wasteful of the water which can
only be made productive with the effort, capital and ingenuity of the new farming
methods. The locality is seen as a frontier awaiting development, not a ‘horizontal’
frontier as in unpeopled land, but ‘vertical’ frontier where the land is awaiting the
application of more intensive technology (Merrill & Pigram, 1984). With new
technology and new crops, new frontiers of innovation are created.
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In these situations, the groups with whom interviewees are content to ally themselves
reveal the relations which these people have had to land and water resources. During the
past 10 years, many of the graziers who cast themselves as innovators have chosen to
align themselves with the most highly capitalised irrigators in the region. The two
groups have very different scales and intensity of land use, and often times, wealth. The
choice of alliance is based on similarities in the perception of land and water, and
particularly that water resources should be used to further the district as a place of social
networks. As a grazier from an established family said, “we are innovators, if we
haven’t brought the new ideas to the district, then we have quickly supported them”.
This alliance has been formed and reinforced through heated and protracted
environment political conflict over water use.
In the early 1990s, an initially unexpected alliance was formed between local graziers
affected by the floodplain development, city based environmentalists, Aboriginal people
with concerns about cultural heritage, and downstream water users from Brewarrina and
further down the Darling system. They held workshops in the area and expressed
opposition and a will to fight the ‘Cubbie’ development, taking Cubbie as a focal point
for concerns over increased extraction of water (Inland Rivers Network, 1994). Their
slogan, ‘Water for the Rivers’, coined by a local grazier, expressed the perception which
was the premise for this alliance – that the needs of the riverine environment had to be
recognised, that the river itself was an important water user. Although this particular
alliance was short-lived, such uneasy coalitions have tentatively formed in a number of
other centres of the region, as these groups increasingly recognise that they share at
least some common interests.
People living in the towns in the region cast themselves in particular roles and alliances
in these processes, shaped by their relation to land and water in the district. In the
disputes around the Cubbie development in the late 1980s and early 1990s, people from
the towns in the area (Dirranbandi and St George) publicly allied themselves with the
large irrigators and those supporting further development. Many townspeople cast
themselves in the role of supporting further development of the region’s resources
because they saw their interest as relying on rural producers for employment and
support for rural settlements.
A number of groups within the towns have stood outside this role of support for the
intensive development. These groups were drawing on some alternative relationship
with, or narrative about, the land and water resources in the region and believed that
they would not benefit from intensive developments. Recreational fishers, for instance,
have intimate knowledge of the effect of irrigated farming on fish stocks and have
noticed fish kills. Some Aboriginal people have opposed the scale of clearing for cotton
agriculture, remembering these properties for their value as pastoral stations which they
worked on in years past. Aboriginal people have also had an intimate knowledge of the
river from living in camps on river banks and draw on this knowledge in their expressed
concerns about changes to
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river flow and pathways. There are as well some women, white and Aboriginal, who
through their experience of caring for children, have concerns about the effect of
chemical spraying.
However, despite their often strong opposition to further development of the cotton
industry, these groups did not necessarily align themselves with others who expressed
opposition, in particular the graziers on the floodplain. The reasons they opposed the
developments were similar, but this did not cut across the existing factors which shape
social and political relations in the area, built on decades of distrust between Aboriginal
and white communities, or on patterns in which women are not expected to take up
roles of public advocacy.
These complex interactions take place within a locality, and roles gain validity within
local social groupings, yet people involved in these community processes draw upon the
possible roles and available narratives which are circulating in the wider society. A
range of environmental, political and resource management organisations promote
various narratives which give people ways to understand their situation, create roles and
advance their arguments. Many of the narratives about relations to the environment
employed by local groups can be traced back to these organisations. For instance,
irrigators draw on the arguments and often the actual phrases and figures circulated by
political parties, resource development agencies and grower representative bodies.
Similarly, the groups of graziers have drawn upon the narratives from resource
management agencies, farmers organisations and resource conservation agencies such
as the Murray Darling Basin Commission (MDBC), which provide ways of making
sense of their experience and advancing their arguments. Conversely, people from the
local area have been very active in shaping these wider discourses through being
community representatives in a range of resource management bodies such as the
national Community Advisory Committee of the MDBC and state water infrastructure
development initiatives. So while the significance of local cultures and social and
political patterns are crucial to understanding the course of local decision making, these
local debates are never isolated from wider contexts and influences. One aspect of our
analysis of life history recordings has been to identify both the locally-initiated issues
and the traces of influence in ideas and language which demonstrate engagement with
these wider currents of struggle over environment, resources and development.
Conclusion
Life history recording offers access to the processes by which ‘stakeholders’ – the
people and communities with a deep interest in rural life and land – perceive their
environment and their relation to it. The Black Soil Country analysis of memory and
current perceptions has already indicated the complex differences which exist around
conceptualisations of the rivers themselves, and the concept of ‘country’ is emerging as
a similarly complex
198
site of contested understandings. Then there are the highly emotive ethical concepts
such as ‘stewardship’ and ‘custodianship’. We have found wide divergences in the
meanings ascribed to these similar terms and just as much divergence in what it is that
people claim to be caring for. There is evidence of intense jostling emerging among
contending groups as they try gain authority for their claims to be legitimate
‘custodians’ or ‘good stewards’. The concept of ‘family’ and its relationship to land,
farms and the future is also the site of divergent conceptualisations, yet may offer some
important common ground where dialogue might be fostered. A project like Black Soil
Country will offer a richer body of resources on which policy makers might draw for an
understanding of how people will make their decisions about moving towards more
sustainable practices. For all, such decisions will be based on how people perceive their
relationship to their ‘country’, the country formed as much within their imaginations as
by any fences, lease deeds and balance sheets.
Acknowledgments:
We are grateful of generous comments on earlier drafts of this paper from Kate Evans
and Kate Barclay.
199
References
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University of New South Wales Press.
Cronon, W. 1992. ‘A place for stories: Nature, history and narrative’. Journal of
American History 78(4).
Darian-Smith, K. & P. Hamilton (eds). 1994. ‘Memory and history in Twentieth

Century Australia’. See Hamilton’s introduction: The Knife Edge. Melbourne: Oxford
University Press.
Goodall, H. 1996. Invasion to embassy: Land in Aboriginal politics in NSW, 1770 to

1972. Sydney: Allen and Unwin.
Inland Rivers Network. 1994. Media Release: ‘Widespread call for proper control of
floodplain development’. 18 April. IRN Papers, Sydney.
Lane, R. 1996. ‘Local environmental knowledge and perspectives on change: A case

study in the Tumut region of New South Wales’. Masters thesis: Department of
Geography, Australian National University.
Langloh-Parker, K. 1905. The Euahlayi tribe: A study of Aboriginal life in Australia.

London: Archibald Constable and Co.
Merrill, P.J. & J.J. Pigram. 1984: ‘American involvement in the Australian cotton
growing industry 1962-72’. Australian Geographer 16: 127-133.
Roberts, B. 1995. The quest for sustainable agriculture and land use. Sydney:
University of New South Wales Press.
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Case studies: theory and practice in
14 natural resource management
Jim Crosthwaite, Neil MacLeod

and Bill Malcolm
Introduction
Australia’s extensive grasslands and woodlands have major degradation problems (e.g.
Tothill & Gillies, 1992; Department of Environment, Sport & Territories, 1996) which
vary across regions. From a production viewpoint, the major problems involve loss of
vegetative cover (especially from perennial grass species), soil organic content and
physical structure decline, and other elements contributing to nutrient and water
cycling, as well as intrusive problems such as salinity, acidification and erosion (e.g.
McIntyre & McIvor, 1996). From a conservation viewpoint, relatively few grasslands
and woodlands can still be characterised as natural ecosystems. The few that remain
have a conservation significance well beyond their size and are subject to influences
(e.g. clearing, weed invasion, over-grazing) which will likely lead to their loss. While
precision about the extent and location of the problems varies, there is a general
agreement on a need to address them.
In exploring these problems, issues of scale are important from both an ecological and
economic viewpoint (e.g. Harrington, Wilson & Young, 1984; Brown & MacLeod,
1996). Decisions about exploiting or conserving remnant vegetation are typically made
at the farm level, while R&D typically focuses on smaller scales (e.g. plots, land
classes), thereby, failing to address the appropriate decision context. Extension is
typically pitched at the same inappropriate scales exacerbating technology transfer
failure problems (MacLeod & Taylor, 1995). A key to successfully addressing problems
is to get the scale right, implying a detailed understanding of the whole property
resource structure, management (technological) systems and the socio-economic
context of the managers (e.g. age, dependents, interest, affordability, beliefs).
A research method which explores both underlying processes and context is required
(e.g. Pettigrew, 1985) and will ideally combine both cross-sectional (what is happening
now across a range of cases) and longitudinal (stability over time) elements. Context for
conservation on farms is unlikely to be uniform or static over time or space. For
example, a farmer may base a given decision on present levels of wealth, current prices,
policies or expectation of the government of the day. As these variables can readily
201
change, so does the decision context and, therefore, the likely decisions made and their
consequent outcomes.
Case studies can make a valuable contribution to research and policy development in
natural resource management. This paper is about the nature of case studies, their
strengths in comparison to other techniques, and the way results can be generalised. The
design phase is critical to their successful conduct, and is with reference to a case study
project currently being developed within the National Remnant Vegetation Program
being jointly funded by the Land and Water Resources Research and Development
Corporation and the Environment Australia Biodiversity Group. This project is centred
on livestock grazing management, and its effects on production and conservation
performance in the grasslands and native pastures of southern New South Wales and
northern Victoria.
The nature of case studies
What are case studies?
Much of the bad press received by case study methods typically stems from their poor
definition as a research strategy. Yin (1981a, 1981b, 1983, 1989, 1993) and others (e.g.
Eisenhardt, 1989, 1991; Ragin & Becker, 1992; Feagin, Orum & Sjoberg, 1991; Stake,
1995) have sought to define case study methods, and their role and appropriateness as
an empirical strategy for addressing research questions. This paper draws primarily on
Yin’s work. Yin (1981a) defines a case study as an empirical inquiry that:
a) investigates a contemporary phenomenon within its real-life context; when
b) the boundaries between the phenomenon and context are not clearly evident; and in
which
c) multiple sources of evidence are used.
Management of remnant vegetation is a contemporary phenomenon within a farming

context and is, therefore, subject to many and various influences (e.g. price levels,
availability of feed on other parts of the farm, available family labour etc.). The
boundary between management of a tract of remnant vegetation (phenomenon) and the
whole farm (context) is often difficult to distinguish. Landholders may not place much
significance on remnant or native vegetation, simply seeing it as part of the total bundle
of resources with which to make land use decisions. Farm records are likely to reflect
this. Finally, the combination of phenomenon and context are unique on each farm.
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Choosing between case studies and other techniques
Yin (1989), suggests that a choice between case studies and other empirical methods
might be rationally made against three conditions:
a) the type of research question being posed;
b) the extent of control a researcher has over actual behavioural events; and
c) the degree of focus on contemporary as opposed to historical events.
The first condition boils down to the simple who, what, where, when, why and how
questions of most research. While any of these questions can be handled by most
research approaches, this is accomplished with varying degrees of efficiency. For
example, ‘who’, ‘what’ and ‘where’ questions are well addressed through surveys and
historical accounts. Case studies well suit the more interesting (from our perspective)
‘how’ and ‘why’ questions, which are explanatory rather than exploratory or
descriptive. Because other methods (e.g. formal experiments, historical accounts) are
also employed to investigate this type of research question, the second and third
conditions provide the necessary discrimination. Historical accounts are best used
where there is no scope for control over or insight into contemporary events.
Experiments, require an ability to control and manipulate events in a direct, precise and
systematic fashion which is rarely accomplished beyond laboratory conditions.
An appropriate niche for case study methods in research situations which deal with
contemporary events in which behaviour of the people or systems at the centre of the
research problem cannot be manipulated (Yin, 1989, 1993). This role is also supported
by two sources of evidence that are of limited use to other methods – direct observation
and systematic interviewing, which can be usefully applied to other sources of evidence
(e.g. documents, archival materials, surveys etc.) to provide the multiple sources of
evidence (i.e. the third technical characteristic of case study methods).
Case study methods using multiple sources of evidence are important in researching
farming systems which are typically complex, influenced by many purposive and ad
hoc management decisions, and occur within a context of ill-defined feed-back loops
and uncertainty. Dynamic processes and change are also characteristics which can be
explored by the case study method in ways that other techniques either cannot or do so
poorly.
Generalising from case studies: analytical versus statistical

generalisation.
Much concern, confusion and criticism of case study methods revolves around their
representativeness and ability to generalise findings beyond the actual case. In this
particular context, case study methods are often seen as a poor substitute to a well-
conducted survey. This reflects a mistaken understanding of the essential difference
between generalising to theory (analytical generalisation) – a property shared by case
studies and most
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natural science experiments – and generalising to populations (statistical generalisation)

– typical of surveys (Yin, 1989, 1993). Individual cases are not sampling units in any
statistical sense. The correct context for generalising beyond immediate case findings is
that of theory development and generalisation to theory. Like classic scientific
experiments (whose generalisation is rarely queried), case study design is ideally based
on a well-grounded theory and set of testable propositions. Findings are generalised to
that theoretical base according to the degree of support the findings provide to the
original propositions. If the empirical findings support either the theory, or a rival
theory (i.e. sample to theory), theory development progresses. Case study methods do
this well in situations where (a) the context is important and (b) events cannot be
manipulated as in a classic experiment (Yin, 1993).
Confidence about the wider validity of conclusions is increased if findings apply to

multiple cases, consistent with the theoretical context from which the first case was
drawn (i.e. analytical generalisation). Multiple case studies (like multiple experiments)
enhance analytical generalisation through replication, especially when the additional
case findings support a given theory and contradict a well justified rival theory.
However, the use of multiple cases does not increase `representativeness’ of `samples’
as in statistical generalisation logic (i.e. sample to population) – already argued to be
inappropriate to case study methods.
Eisenhardt (1989, 1991) working in the business management field has also sought to
promote the case study method. However, unlike Yin who uses case studies to test a
priori theory, Eisenhardt uses them more to promote theory building as a primary goal.
For example, Eisenhardt (1989), while acknowledging the role of good research
questions and theoretical constructs, argues that propositions can be developed (and
tested) during data collection, rather than prior to it. Because the aim is to obtain a rich
understanding of the cases in all their complexity, insights gained during data collection
can be used to inform the theory. Yin (1989) regards this as explanation-building, which
is a more difficult form of theorising. It should be noted that some (e.g. Dyer &
Wilkins, 1991) argue that any theorising in advance will restrict insights and the
researcher should have as few preconceived ideas as possible (but see Eisenhardt,
1991).
Walton (1992) supports anchoring case studies in theory development because the
practical steps of implementing a case study can force a careful consideration of ‘what it
might or might not be a case of’. In his view, this explains why case studies have been
path-breaking in several theoretical fields. However, relating the case to theory in one
discipline may not be sufficient. For example, Wieviorka (1992) in a study of terrorist
groups has found that while a sociological approach delineated the processes producing
terrorism, it ‘could explain neither why nor how this phenomenon occurs in one place
but not another, and it was of practically no use for making predictions’. Using case
studies to understand both processes (whether social or economic) and the history of
events and occurrences may be relevant in natural resource management.
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Phases of case study research: the importance of sound

design
All research, including case studies, is conducted in phases that typically, but not
always, follow a general sequence of – research design, data collection, data analysis,
and reporting. Research design necessarily links the data to conclusions (Yin, 1989).
Poor designs leave the quality of the research and general validity of the conclusions
open to challenge. Therefore, the critical design phase must be well-conducted and
adequately specified (Eisenhardt, 1991; Yin, 1993). Qualitative researchers undertaking
case studies on individuals and small groups place much importance on prior
preparation, rather than simply allowing the case to speak for itself (Stake, 1995;
Harper, 1992).
The key to establishing a good research design is to follow a logical process of linking
data to objectives, conclusions to data and, thereby, linking objectives to conclusions.
Yin (1989) identifies five critical steps (elements) of a case study research design; as
follows:
Presenting a clear and adequate specification of the theoretical issues and, from this, the
questions that frame the study.
1. Clearly defining the unit(s) of analysis, including possible sub-units if these are
warranted
2. Deciding on the appropriate number of cases to explore within the study.
3. Clearly specifying the selection criteria for choosing the case studies.
4. Choosing an appropriate and effective data collection and analysis strategy.
5. Developing appropriate tests to ensure the validity and reliability of the approach
taken in conducting the case study.
These steps are consistent with Eisenhardt’s approach.
These elements are now briefly outlined, followed by an illustration of the approach
taken in the example native grassland case study.
Theoretical issues and research questions
Stake (1995) argues that the researcher’s greatest contribution is in ‘working the
research questions until they are just right’. He also emphasises the need for issue
questions which conceptually define the case study, and distinguishes these from
information and evaluative questions which may be important, but are not critical to the
design phase.
Yin (1989, 1993) generally proposes developing formal explanatory propositions

(including rival propositions) to be tested via data collection and analysis against
criteria relevant to their acceptance or rejection.
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Eisenhardt (1989) argues that a priori formal propositions can inhibit exploration of the
cases and development of novel propositions, and supports the development of tentative
theoretical constructs to inform the study, and an iterative process that links data to the
emerging theory. Key requirements are using multiple evidence from each case to
produce well-defined and measurable theoretical propositions or constructs, and testing
each proposition afresh against each case. Confidence in the propositions increases if
replication of findings occurs. Eisenhardt (1989) also proposes that the research design
include a phase of testing the theoretical propositions that emerge from the study
against the literature, both supportive and contrary.
Unit(s) of analysis
A common failing is to clearly define and stick to a unit of analysis that is appropriate
to exploring the theoretical issues underpinning the research (Yin, 1989). A clear
definition of the unit of analysis is necessary to firmly bound the subsequent study,
develop relevant and precise propositions, and guide data collection. Poorly defined
units of analysis typically lead to results that lack rigour and are more descriptive than
explanatory (Yin, 1993). Where data are collected for sub-units (e.g. a paddock), there
is a risk of the ensuing analysis remaining at that level, rather than being drawn together
at the original unit level (e.g. the farm) (Yin, 1989).
The unit of analysis need not relate to some specific physical entity (e.g. an individual,
group, institution) where unit boundaries are usually clear. Alternatives might include a
farming approach (e.g. conservative versus innovative), a specific policy (e.g. price
support) or an event (e.g. drought). The key to determining the appropriate unit of
analysis remains the research questions defined for the study (Yin, 1989).
Number of cases
Unlike statistical sampling methods there is no single rule concerning the minimum
number of cases to be selected for a given research project. Selection of the number of
cases is necessarily influenced by the study aims, the research questions to be tested and
the level of confidence (theoretical versus statistical) that is required in the findings.
Single cases are useful when there is some critical case against which to test a well
specified proposition, or where an extreme or unique case is the main focus of interest.
Multiple case designs are more common and are generally used to replicate findings or
support theoretical generalisation.
Each case within a multiple case designs can incrementally increase the ability to
generalise. Eisenhardt (1989) suggests limiting the number to the point where the
incremental contribution of extra cases is only marginal
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(e.g. 4-10 cases) and to retain the flexibility of adding additional cases if necessary.
An important distinction is drawn between literal and theoretical replication which are
standard features of classical experimentation (Yin, 1989). The former involves the
selection of particular cases on the basis that they should predict similar results, while
the latter involves the selection of cases that might produce contrary results for reasons
consistent with an underlying propositions. Multiple cases which incorporate both
literal and theoretical replicates can then be used to advance theory (Yin, 1989).
Selection criteria
This is a fundamental consideration for case methods and successfully linking the data
and conclusions to the theoretical propositions. Cases may be chosen because they
extend emergent theory, fill theoretical categories, provide examples of polar types, or
replicate previously selected cases (Eisenhardt, 1989). In this regard, the need for
appropriate selection criteria is no different to that of any other form of experimentation
centred on replication logic (Yin, 1989). The choice of case is sometimes obvious (e.g.
critical, unique or extreme cases). However, once theoretical requirements are
addressed, the selection may be influenced by pragmatic considerations (e.g. access and
feasibility).
Data collection and analysis strategy
Major pitfalls lie in poor prior preparation of the various activities required by the study
design and commencing data collection before the design and analytical procedures
have been carefully worked out and ‘pilot’ tested. The requirements for effective data
collection and analysis is provided in detail elsewhere (e.g. Patton, 1987, 1990;
Eisenhardt, 1989; Yin, 1989, 1993; Stake, 1995) and not pursued further here.
Data analysis should be independently conducted for each case study, both relating back
to the objectives and drawing out policy implications. Close familiarity with each case
is required to allow the investigator to draw out its unique patterns and the basis for rich
cross-case comparison (Eisenhardt, 1989). As each additional case is completed, the
results are checked to see if they replicate the findings in the previous cases. Once all
cases are completed, cross-case conclusions can be drawn (Yin, 1989). Several pattern-
matching techniques have been proposed (Eisenhardt, 1989; Yin, 1989) to assist cross-
case comparisons, and avoid biases because of factors such as limited data, the
vividness of some cases, personal regard for some respondents, and inadvertently
overlooking contrary evidence (Eisenhardt, 1989).
A range of approaches may be desirable for cases that involve both quantitative and
qualitative elements. Where repeat visits to collect
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quantitative data are involved, observational skills may be enhanced by drawing on

ethnographic approaches and it may also be worthwhile developing a system for coding
observations (Harper, 1992; Stake, 1995). Account should also be made for the fact that
findings will depend on how the relationship with informants develops, particularly
where understanding of influences, motivations and views is concerned (Harper, 1992).
A related issue is clarifying the balance in the final report between the researcher’s
viewpoint, and that of informants with the latter potentially allowing readers to better
‘see’ the case and make their own generalisations (Stake, 1995).
Tests of validity and reliability
There are four basic tests of logic that can be applied to assess the quality of a particular
research design. Yin (1989, 1993) has proposed the following as appropriate for a case
study design:
Construct validity is about appropriate definitions and operational measures for the
theoretical propositions being studied. Using several ways to measure the key variables
(constructs) in the study is an important way to overcome possible problems of
inaccuracy. Multiple sources of evidence are clearly needed when little information is
available on some aspects of native pasture or farm management.
Internal validity is about establishing credible causal relationships. The theory must be
internally consistent. This requires careful specification of the units of analysis so that
the study does not slip from one unit to another, and use of appropriate pattern-
matching techniques to ensure theories and data are consistent.
External validity concerns convincingly specifying the domain to which the findings
can be generalised. This requires carefully choosing the cases and explaining why each
case has been chosen, and its similarities and differences to other cases, in terms of the
research questions guiding the study. External validity is maximised in multiple rather
than single case study design.
Reliability refers to the ability to repeat the findings if the same methods etc. are
applied. Formal protocols are necessary to ensure that procedures are consistent across
case studies. The data upon which the analysis is based will ideally be maintained in a
distinct database, independent of any analysis.
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Case example: the native grasslands project
Background to the project
The native grassland project has a number of objectives relating to valuation of the
contribution of native grasslands to the economic performance of grazing enterprises in
north-central Victoria and the southern Riverina region of New South Wales, and to
factors influencing managers’ decisions on utilisation of these grasslands. It also seeks
to explore the utility of various policy instruments that might be implemented to
promote social goals for conservation of these grasslands. For the remainder of this
paper, we use this last objective sections to clarify the case study research design
process.
Theoretical issues and research questions
To determine appropriate mechanisms for achieving public policy goals for native
grasslands on farms, we need to understand why farmers manage native grassland in the
way they do. For example, does the current or anticipated level of net cash flow
influence conservation outcomes? Is the need for cash flow important in influencing
management of the grassland areas? Does this need vary with the proportion of cash
flow derived from these areas, or the availability of potential income sources on or off-
farm?
The why question has non-economic components. For example, are farmers
significantly influenced by factors other than profitability or net cash flow in
management of native grassland areas? How important are factors such as management
style, attitude to risk, and family situation?
These why questions are a basis for understanding how different policy mechanisms
might influence management and conservation outcomes. What type of policy
mechanisms are necessary, if any? Is it necessary to have a mix of policy mechanisms?
How will farmers’ attitudes to government involvement influence acceptability of
different mechanisms?
Given the economic character of the project, there are some particular questions of
interest relating to policy mechanisms.
How effective are incentives based on ‘economic’ principles of compensation for

foregone opportunities, reimbursement of costs and internalisation of externalities? This
question is necessary because most discussion of incentives presumes that farmers are
profit maximisers, and hence that incentives must be based on these principles. Even
where the profit maximising assumption is found not to hold, an incentives system
based on such principles might prevent damage to conservation values arising from
neglect or future price or technology change that might not be prevented by payments
based on other principles.
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How does the ‘fit’ of native grasslands into the whole farm system influence the
effectiveness of different policy mechanisms? The way in which these areas ‘fit’ within
the whole farm system will vary greatly from farm to farm and is likely to have an
important effect on the effectiveness of different policy mechanisms.
How effective will circuit-breaking incentives be? Such incentives would aim to
indirectly improve management of native grasslands by bringing about appropriate
strategic shifts at the farm business level (e.g. in the mix of on-farm and off-farm
activities in which capital and effort are invested).
In summary, should incentive systems be based on a broader economic approach which

accounts for the non-pecuniary objectives of the farm-family, the ‘fit’ of native
grassland into the whole farm system, and opportunities to influence strategic decision-
making. In other words, important opportunities to influence farmer behaviour may be
lost and inefficiencies will occur in expenditure if incentives are based primarily on
‘economic’ principles.
The approach (Eisenhardt, 1989) of outlining some preliminary theoretical constructs in

advance, while developing testable propositions during analysis of results rather than a
priori has been adopted. An initial attempt was made to specify propositions in advance
following Yin’s approach (see Crosthwaite, MacLeod & Malcolm, 1997). It has since
been decided that these propositions were unnecessarily restrictive and revealed to lack
realism once field visits commenced and the propositions were discussed with farmers
and other researchers. The now preferred approach will allow for the richness of the
cases to inform the theory, while retaining a systematic approach.
Units of analysis
The main unit of analysis is the farm business, which is broad enough to encompass
decision choices about investment and off-farm work. A critical task is to explain the
effects of policy mechanisms at the farm business level, and their flow-on effects to the
conservation management approach. Sub-units of analysis which are physically
identifiable are the farm and the native grassland. Other sub-units which are more
conceptual in nature are the farm-family, and the conservation management approach.
Number of cases
Eight case studies are planned. The project has been designed to test the management of
native grasslands in two land types in south-eastern Australia: (a) riverine plains and (b)
slopes, hills and tablelands. While it will be possible to draw lessons by comparisons
across these land types, the farming situation is very different. Topography, soil type
and rainfall are largely independent of human action and affect carrying capacity and
210
management options. Cases will also be selected in order to capture the range of
enterprises utilising native grasslands (e.g. mixed farming, extensive grazing, dairying).
In addition, there is more than one research question being addressed. These factors
may require a relatively large number of case studies if similar results (literal replication
of theoretical propositions) are to be found for more than one case study. Likewise,
explaining differences (theoretical replication) will need to be convincing over several
cases if the results are to be attributed to the theoretical propositions rather than to other
factors.
Selection criteria
A number of criteria have been developed for selection of the case farms, including:
physical characteristics of the property; enterprises, income and profitability;
availability of information; landholder interest; and linkages to other research projects
or initiatives (e.g. Landcare).
Several ways of identifying farms that met these criteria were considered. Using a mail
or phone survey to identify potential cases (Harper, 1992) was not possible within time
constraints. Extension officers of state agriculture and conservation agencies in each
study region compiled a list of 10-12 farms thought likely to meet these criteria. Cases
were then chosen after discussion with the extension officers.
Data collection strategy
The project involves detailed semi-structured interviews with landholders and other
family members. Initial interviews have concentrated on obtaining information about
enterprises and pasture types on the farm, which paddocks fit each pasture type, and
stock movements between paddocks that have been recorded or are reliably
remembered. Subsequent stock movement information will be obtained periodically
during the project.
Later interviews will seek financial data. Management options will be solicited from the
landholder, as well as from an agronomist who will inspect the native grassland areas.
Where available, research data from similar grassland areas will be utilised.
Information about business structure, management practices, farm history, family

situation, current and expected cash flow requirements, and farm-family goals will be
sought during the interviews. The type of qualitative data that will be required will be,
to the extent possible, specified in advance, and a suitable recording format devised. It
is expected that useful qualitative information will be generated which does not easily
fit into pre-determined categories.
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Analysis strategy
The following steps summarise the approach for each case:

• Determine level of stocking on each pasture type;
• Specify management alternatives to achieve production and conservation goals;
• Determine the farm-family profitability targets or net cash flow requirement;
• Prepare an overview of other factors which might influence management of native
grasslands;
• Determine the reliance on the native grassland areas for meeting financial needs;
• Examine the potential effectiveness of different policy mechanisms given factors
such as the ‘fit’ of native grassland management into the whole farm system and the
availability of alternative investment strategies.
As each case analysis is completed, comparisons will be drawn with previous cases.
Finally, pattern-matching techniques are to be used to draw cross-case conclusions.
The questions about why farmers manage native grassland in a particular way will be
addressed by comparing the economic performance of present management strategies
and alternative strategies to assess the extent to which profit or net cash flow
requirements influence management. Where economic factors are found to be the
primary influence on farmers’ decisions, the why questions will produce sufficient
information to address how different policy mechanisms are likely to influence
management.
Analysis of qualitative information obtained through the semi-structured interviews and

observation over repeat visits will give some insight into other factors which influence
their management (e.g. farming style, family circumstances, attitude, knowledge).
However, as the project is of limited duration, it is likely that the use of formal
qualitative research analysis tools will be limited. Hence, the research design may not
allow ‘strong’ theory to be generated if non-economic factors are found to be as
important as economic. Nevertheless, the likely effect of each policy mechanism can be
tested by assuming in turn the varying importance of each economic and non-economic
factor. If the effect of each policy mechanism changes significantly, with different
assumptions, then this in itself will be a significant finding. Analysis will be assisted by
referring the wider body of social research in agriculture.
Testing the design for validity and reliability
The research design is being constructed in advance with validity and reliability in
mind. Regarding construct validity, the project is being designed to maximise use of
multiple sources of evidence (farmer opinion, farm records, regional production and
economic data, botanist opinion, agronomist opinion, and available research data). Case
farm owners, and
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relevant others, will be asked to comment on the accuracy and interpretation contained
in interview documents, spreadsheets and case reports. Careful specification of the units
of analysis will increase internal validity. External validity will be increased through
careful attention to the research questions and criteria for selecting cases. Plans for
documenting key aspects of the study and by maintaining a data base (interview reports,
farm data) for each case study, independent of the case report, will increase reliability
and consistency.
Discussion & conclusion
The paper originated in the need to find a suitable method for analysing on-farm land
management issues. The whole-farm level at which farmers manage, the complexity of
the issues, and the time dimension mean research techniques which emphasise process
and context are required. Case study methods do this, and can moreover readily
integrate multiple sources of evidence. Case studies also require researchers to take a
holistic approach to the problem or unit under study.
It has been shown that the perceived weaknesses of case studies and errors that are
commonly made in their application are not substantive. These problems can be largely
overcome through a good research design, which includes a stage of theory
development and application. There are now sufficient guidelines, from the different
perspectives of Yin, Eisenhardt, Stake and others, for getting the design right. The
design steps were illustrated in this paper by application to the natural resources
problem that lead to consideration of the case study approach in the first place.
Theory-building about natural resource management is one of the areas in which case
studies may make a major contribution. Case studies are not representative in a
statistical sense, but can be used to generalise to theory. The steps required in case study
research force attention to what the case is about and to unearthing its key processes.
The real issue is not whether this farm is similar to other farms, but whether we are
starting to understand processes that also operate on other farms in spite of the different
context that may occur there.
When the multiple dimensions of the on-farm situation are considered – pasture and
livestock management, business viability, farm-family livelihood, land protection,
biodiversity conservation – it is clear that case studies have a potentially strong role to
play in social science research directed to agriculture and natural resource management.
Arguably, case studies should be used much more frequently than they are.
213
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216
‘Place’ and sustainability:
15 research opportunities and dilemmas
Susan A. Moore
Abstract
Place, as the centre of peoples’ experiences and lives, has become a focus in natural
resource management in the 1990s. Efforts have and are being made to consider place in
forest, national park and farm management, and in managing resource uses such as
hunting. Place is the intersection of people’s physical, biological, social and economic
worlds. Sustainability relies on all four worlds and most importantly integrating across
them. As such place provides a window to understanding sustainability especially given
its expression at the intersection of these worlds.
Place is, however, difficult to define and measure. Substantial, past, research effort has
focused on quantitative measures of aesthetic appeal as a surrogate for place. In more
recent years interest in the meanings associated with place has led to qualitative
research. This paper overviews the current range of research approaches and includes
the dilemmas and opportunities associated with each. Also included is a brief
description of our recent research using photo elicitation, an approach relying on photos
and associated narratives, to investigate farmer’s sense of place in relation to their
farmlands in the Western Australian wheatbelt.
Choice of research approach should be guided by requirements for the findings

including: (1) accuracy in reflecting the respondent’s association with place; (2) ability
to capture the complexity of place and sustainability; (3) applicability of findings
beyond the site-level and ability to generalise; and (4) ease of communicating research
findings, especially to managers. Qualitative research methods seem best for examining
the complexities of place and sustainability, especially the genius loci of place.
However, quantitative results are most easily communicated to managers, the people
with primary responsibility for sustainable land management practices.
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Introducing and defining place
‘Place’ has become a focus in natural resource management in the 1990s. Efforts have
and are being made to consider place in forest, national park and farm management, and
in managing resource uses such as hunting. But what is ‘place’? There is a substantial
literature on place in environmental psychology, human geography, anthropology and
landscape architecture. Place has also been widely considered in the literary world. The
term has been used to mean location, locale, region, space, site, setting, landscape and
environment (Kruger, 1996). Current researchers talk of place creation, place
attachment, sense of place and place identity. The most common term is sense of place
which is increasingly used to cover two or more component variables, such as place
attachment and place familiarity.
My preference and following on from Relph’s (1976) work, is to define and address
place itself as an integrated phenomenon:
Places are fusions of human and natural order and are the significant centres of our
immediate experiences of the world. They are defined less by unique locations,
landscape, and communities than by the focusing of experiences and intentions onto
particular settings. Places are not abstractions or concepts, but are directly
experienced phenomena of the lived-world and hence are full with meanings, with
real objects, and with ongoing activities. They are important sources of individual
and communal identity, and are often profound centres of human existence to which
people have deep emotional and psychological ties. (Relph, 1976: 141)
This definition sees place as an outcome, as a coming together of the physical and social
worlds. This outcome is individually and communally (ie. socially) determined, so place
is both individually and socially constructed. This definition also reflects the
contemporary social-constructionist perspective of place; that place is defined by people
through interactions with the place and with each other.
Place is also a process, a concept captured nicely by Kruger (1996) in her recently
completed doctoral work on place. She used the term ‘place creation’ to describe the
dynamics of place as a process. Place is about transforming and appropriating nature
and space and in turn the culture and character of people being changed by place
(Brandenburg & Carroll, 1995; Kruger, 1996). Place has also been described as the way
in which people attach meaning and importance to space (Stankey, 1995 in Kruger,
1996).
The attributes of place include the physical setting, activities, experiences and identity.
For example, for many people their favourite place is a nearby park or reserve. For
many people in Perth, Crawley Bay, a sheltered grassy bay on the edge of the Swan
River readily accessible from the city and northern suburbs of Perth, is a special place.
The physical setting is the river with shady peppermint trees and a sandy beach,
protected water for
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children to swim and paddle in, and numerous barbecues. The activities include
swimming; throwing large, brown river jellyfish at your brothers, sisters, parents and
friends; barbecuing; enjoying Western Australian wines; playing ball; and perhaps
netting the river shallows for prawns.
Experiences and intentions, another attribute of place, are one of the hardest of place
attributes to define and describe. Experiences refer to past events that have occurred or
involve a particular place; these experiences may have been individual or involved
several or many others. Experiences from childhood are often important in creating
place. Crawley Baths, constructed on the edge of Crawley Bay, were used by many
Perth children in the 1950s and 1960s to learn to swim, they went prawning with their
parents and families along the northern shorelines of the Swan River or learned to sail
in dinghies in the sheltered waters of Crawley Bay. Intentions are somewhat similar,
they are experiences and intentions occurring in the present. Many people using
Crawley Bay do so with the intention of enjoying family and friends.
Place also provides an affirmation of roles and identities, both self- and group-identity.
Using the example again of picnicking at Crawley Bay, parents enjoy their parenting
role while others reinforce their social self-identity by entertaining and chatting with
friends. Also, part of Perth residents’ group-identity is closely tied to the Swan River
and an outdoor lifestyle shared with friends and family. Thus, picnicking at Crawley
Bay confirms this group-identity.
Although place can be broken down into and considered as separate but connected
attributes such as physical setting and associated individual and communal identities,
there is another less tangible, intrinsic feature of place. This is the sense of place which
has been variously termed ‘spirit of place’ or ‘genius of place’ (genius loci) (Relph,
1976). Genius loci includes the aforementioned attributes but is more than the sum of
these. For this reason, a number of researchers are directing their attention to
understanding the meanings ascribed to a place by those associated with it in efforts to
access this ‘sense of place’. This is the social constructionist approach mentioned
earlier, where researchers seek to access meanings people have for a place in an effort
to extricate more intangible attributes such as genius loci.
Place and sustainability
Place is the intersection of people’s physical, biological, social and economic worlds.
Sustainability relies on all four worlds and most importantly on integrating across them.
Place integrates these worlds and as such provides a window to understanding
sustainability. Sustainability requires activities that are biologically and physically
possible, socially adoptable and economically feasible (Firey, 1960). This typology
recognises the social aspects of sustainability in two of the three spheres – social and
economic.
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Place relies heavily on social considerations and understanding social worlds, in

particular how people’s individual and communal identities are derived from,
influenced by and influence place. Additionally, the whole concept of place is socially
constructed. Sustainability is similarly a social construct, being constructed differently
from social group to social group. There is no objectively definable thing called
sustainability that we can identify remote from social considerations. As such, the social
nature and aspects of place and sustainability are similar and essential to our broader
understanding of these concepts.
Locating this work
Place is not only difficult to define, it is notoriously difficult to measure. There have
been few attempts to provide an overview of possible research approaches, the most
notable exception being Kruger’s (1996) work. This paper begins filling this gap by
describing a range of approaches, from quantitative to qualitative, to place research.
Included is a general description of our recent research using photo elicitation to
investigate farmer’s sense of place in relation to their farmlands in the Western
Australian wheatbelt. This qualitative research method relies on photographs and
associated narratives to explore the meanings attached to place.
The choice of research method for researching place in relation to sustainability should
be guided by requirements for the findings, namely: (1) accuracy in reflecting
respondent’s association with place; (2) ability to capture the complexity of place and
sustainability; (3) applicability of findings beyond the site-level and ability to
generalise; and (4) ease of communicating research findings, especially to managers.
Qualitative approaches, such as photo elicitation and participant observation, best meet
the first and second criterion. Quantitative approaches, for example those based on
measurement scales, best meet the last two criteria.
Place research provides access to the multiple facets of sustainability, particularly the
social facets. It also allows exploration of the elusive nature of the intersection of the
biophysical and socioeconomic worlds, an intersection integral to sustainability.
Qualitative research methods seem best for examining the complexities of place and
sustainability, especially the genius loci of place. However, quantitative results are most
easily communicated.
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Place research
As previously mentioned, place is difficult to measure and quantify. In the past,

substantial research effort has been directed toward quantitative measures, especially
measures of aesthetic appeal, in many instances as an indirect measure or surrogate for
place. In more recent years, interest in the social-constructionist perspective and the
meanings associated with place has led to qualitative research.
The choice of approach to studying place is determined by a number of influences, the

most significant being the researcher’s assumptions and past research practices. All
social scientists make assumptions of an ontological nature. In relation to place, the
researcher may perceive place as constructed by individuals or alternatively as an
immutable reality. Recent research trends have been moving toward the former,
assuming that place is constructed by and in turn constructs individuals and social
groups. The researcher’s epistemological assumptions also influence how they might
study place and subsequently communicate their findings. Some researchers see
knowledge as real, hard, and capable of being transmitted in a tangible form, for others
it is softer, more subjective and often spiritual (Burrell & Morgan, 1979). Recent trends
are more complex regarding epistemological assumptions, with views of knowledge
both as hard and alternatively as less tangible apparent in place research.
The other influence on how place is studied, and this is an influence across all the
sciences, is the researcher’s past familiarity with data collection and analysis
techniques. Choice of research approach is often influenced by the previous approaches
used by a particular researcher, for example if scales and indexes have been used to
gather and analyse data previously then the researcher will find it easier to use the same
approach again. Alternatively, if they have trained using qualitative methods or
published in qualitative journals these approaches may be favoured.
To provide an overview of current approaches to studying place, I have analysed

abstracts of 18 ‘place’ papers presented at the Sixth International Symposium on
Society and Resource Management held in 1996 at The Pennsylvania State University,
University Park, Pennsylvania, grouping them according to similar research approaches.
‘Place’ was one of the 20-odd themes covered over the 6-day Symposium. Also
included in the following discussion are several examples of earlier approaches which
previously dominated this area of research as well as other current approaches not
covered at the Symposium. An analysis of associated opportunities and dilemmas is
provided for each grouping.
Place research methods lie along a continuum, from providing quantitative measures of
place, often collected remote from the places being researched, through to qualitative
descriptions derived through experiencing the place first-hand through in-depth
ethnographic studies. For ease of discussion, I have derived five groups with
overlapping attributes along this continuum.
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They are, moving from most quantitative and remote to most qualitative and lived-
world: (1) scale-based surveys; (2) surveys not culminating in scales; (3) nondirective
interviewing; (4) photo elicitation, maps, stories and textual analysis; and (5)
ethnographic approaches including participant observation.
(1) Scale-based surveys
In this group of approaches, a survey, usually by phone or mail, is administered to

provide data for a suite of items related to place. From the responses, the researcher can
either directly or indirectly determine aspects of place. All of the papers at the
Symposium using this approach investigated place attachment. The results were
numbers, for example, a certain percentage of respondents exhibited positive attachment
to their community or place.
The benefits of this approach include providing measurements easily comparable with
study findings from other sites and previous studies at the same site. Also, because of
the remote administration of such surveys, it is feasible to research across a number of
sites and conduct place research at a regional, non-local level.
Dilemmas include uncertainty whether the derived place scale and associated survey
instrument truly reflect the attributes of place and whether the research potentially
structures responses towards the researcher’s rather than the researched perceptions of
place. These are common dilemmas associated with highly structured approaches to
social research, especially where quantitative data are desired. Such dilemmas are not
unique to place research.
In terms of the usefulness of the results for managers, quantitative outcomes are easy to
understand and as mentioned, it is relatively easy to make comparisons across sites and
for the same site over time. Therefore, real advantages exist for managers using place
attachment scales and similar measures in making decisions about recreation, historic
site and forest coupe management. Research using place scales has been conducted with
recreation area users, users of heritage sites in Pennsylvania and investigating
attachment to land and communities in southern Appalachia.
(2) Surveys not culminating in scales
Surveys, either site-administered or by mail, provide quantitative and qualitative

information on place. Papers presented at last year’s Symposium using this approach
relied on micro and macro approaches to understanding place. One micro-level study
used an on-site survey, based on a series of photos and the surrounding view, to
research place in an historic park. A macro-level study used community self-assessment
workbooks to investigate place attachment in small rural communities in the inland
north-west and
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northern Rockies of the United States. This suite of approaches is slightly less
quantitative than the previous suite (the scale-based approaches) and allows respondents
more flexibility in communicating views outside the structure of the survey instrument,
especially where open-ended questions are used.
The opportunities are similar to the first group; surveys allow research across sites in
space and time, at macro and micro levels. The same set of photos or same survey
instrument can be used with every respondent greatly assisting research validity. As
mentioned, because the survey does not culminate in a scale there is a more flexibility
in collecting and interpreting research data, especially if there are findings which do not
fit the survey instrument provided. The dilemmas are similar to those associated with
survey-related scales, that the researcher can never be sure that the variables truly
capture the essence of place and that they are not imposing their definitions of place on
those being surveyed. For managers, and again similarly to scale-based surveys, having
figures and data readily comparable across sites is useful. However, by their very
nature, these forms of research do not capture the complexities of place and as such are
likely to provide managers with a simplistic view of place and of the likely effects of
their management actions.
Much of the earlier research addressing place, drawing on the surrogate of landscape
perceptions, used photographs or computer simulations of landscapes and landscape
changes. This was a common research approach in forestry where there was and
continues to be great interest in how people respond to different logging regimes and
the different associated effects on the landscape. Some researchers also took
respondents to stands that had been treated in different ways and asked them for their
responses (eg. Brunson, 1991). This approach, although implicitly recognising the
importance of place, is unlikely to have captured the aspects of place related to a unique
physical setting, such as an individual’s special place in the forest, or how people
socially construct place through interacting with others. It would also be unlikely to
capture the place’s genius loci or ‘sense of place’.
(3) Nondirective interviewing
This suite of approaches overlaps with the previous group. It is presented separately
because the data are often words and text rather than numbers and respondents can
potentially have far more freedom to describe place in their words and terms rather than
those of the researcher. An example from last year’s Symposium is on-site face-to-face
interviews, followed by narrative analysis, conducted with visitors to a national forest in
southern Colorado.
The nondirective nature of methods on this part of the continuum provide greater
opportunities for the views of the respondents to be clearly heard, unmodified by
structured questions and scales. The complexities and
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interactions between attributes of place such as childhood experiences, the physical

setting and self-identity may become apparent as may their influences on place. On the
downside, the data may be messy and difficult to analyse and it may be more difficult to
communicate findings to managers. Also, because of the time and expense involved, it
is usually not possible to research more than one or a couple of sites, so regional level
research is unlikely.
(4) Photo elicitation, maps, stories and textual analysis
This broad collection of qualitative approaches includes photo elicitation, maps, stories
and textual analysis. Photo elicitation has been used extensively in anthropology and to
a lesser extent in sociology (Collier & Collier, 1986; Harper, 1982). It involves the
researcher or subjects taking photos of features of interest to the latter and using the
photos as a basis for interviews. This method provides a powerful way of accessing the
meanings people ascribe to features, objects and events. The technique had not been
applied in natural resource management until recent work by Brandenburg and Carroll
(1995).
Our recent research on place in the Western Australian wheatbelt relies on photo
elicitation, with farmers using disposable cameras to take photos of places of
significance to them on their farmlands. Once prints were developed, they provided the
basis for nondirective interviews. The objectives of the research were to: describe the
attributes of place as expressed by farmers about their lands; describe how place is
created; and describe the influences of place on farm management. About 30 farmers in
three shires along the Avon River on the western edge of the Western Australian
wheatbelt have been interviewed. Farmers involved in mixed farming on moderate-
sized holdings were selected to access place on farms deriving their main source of
income from farming. We also selected farmers along the Avon River to gain an
understanding of the role of the river in their lives. Photo elicitation has provided
immediate and efficient access to place as perceived by farmers and their families in
relation to their lands.
Maps, stories and textual analysis can be used in a similar way to photographs. One of
the papers from last year’s Symposium described hunters providing maps and
associated stories about their hunting places in Wisconsin. Another reported on a study
using textual analysis to understand the transformation of a Colorado gold mining
community into a gambling tourism mecca and the associated change in place. This
suite of approaches is less directive than approaches earlier on the continuum.
Photographs, maps and stories enable the researcher to truly reflect respondent’s views
to the extent that respondents provide visual and verbal material with minimal, although
still some, direction by the researcher. This group of approaches also allow exploration
of place as a process as well as an outcome. Photos, maps, stories and text often include
stories of change as well as describing today’s events and relationships. One of the
ways we
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sought to access change in our place research with farmers was by asking what changes
to a place would be acceptable and unacceptable while looking at a specific photo, as
well as asking if they would have taken the same set of photos 10 years ago or would
their parents/children have taken the same set of photos.
The dilemmas relate to the micro-level of these research approaches and the potential
difficulties of distilling such data into a form useful and accessible to managers. On
balance, however, this approach and the next group of ethnographic ones provide for
managers comprehensive, detailed understandings of the complexities of place and the
likely effects of their actions and policy decisions on place as perceived by others.
(5) Ethnographic approaches including participant observation
These are the most qualitative approaches on the continuum and data may take years to
gather. Ethnographic research usually relies on living in a community for an extended
period of time and being able to reflect on the world from the perspectives held by
community members. Participant observation is one commonly-used way of
understanding a respondent’s worldview, such as responses to and interactions with
place from their perspective. Other ways include indirect and direct observations
(without participating in community life) and interviewing. One paper at the
Symposium described a study underway where participant observation and
ethnographic interviewing are investigating horseback riding in a national forest.
The great opportunity presented by this suite of approaches is truly capturing the
meanings of place, both as an outcome and a process, as seen by those using and living
in that place. The dilemmas are difficulties in making generalisations to other places
and the time involved in data collection and analysis. For managers, ethnographic place
research is a two-edged sword. The data are likely to be the most accurate and
comprehensive possible, but may be in a dense form requiring a substantial time
commitment to access.
Several summary points can be made about place research methods. Many of the
preceding comments on the opportunities and dilemmas of the different approaches to
place research merely reflect aspects associated with broader choices between research
methods, particularly choices along the quantitative-qualitative continuum. And, in
many instances the choice of method in place research as in many other forms of social
research is influenced by the researcher’s orientation, the nature of the problems being
investigated, and how the data generated are likely to be used.
However, having said this, the choice of technique or methods for researching place in
relation to sustainability can be made using several criteria. First, the generally-
applicable criterion of accurately reflecting respondent’s views is of paramount
importance in any research.
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Ethnographic and story-based approaches are likely to provide the most accurate and
probably the most complex and complete descriptions of place as seen through
respondent’s eyes, hearts and minds. A second criterion and related to the first is the
ability to capture the complexity of place and sustainability. Qualitative approaches
allow these complexities including the need to understand the intersection between
biophysical and socioeconomic worlds to be understood.
The last two criteria are applicability of findings beyond the site level and ease of
communicating research findings to managers. Quantitative approaches such as scale-
based and other surveys allow place assessment across a region as well as at local
levels. Thus, attributes of place for a site or given sites can be compared across space
and time and results can be more readily generalised beyond one or a couple of sites.
Also quantitative results, being based on numbers, are more easily communicated
especially to busy managers and policy makers.
Both these criteria are important in selecting research approaches to sustainability.

Sustainability is a regional as well as a local issue and thus needs to be considered and
understood at both regional and local scales (Martin & Woodhill, 1995). Quantitative
methods may prove more useful for regional-level studies with qualitative approaches
more useful at local scales. On the last criterion, ease of communicating with managers,
sustainability will not be achieved through research, it will be achieved by managers
and policy-makers. As such, place needs to be researched in such a way that the
implications for managers of place attachment and creation are readily apparent and
easily accessed. At the moment the more quantitative methods provide easier access.
Applying place knowledge to sustainable natural resource

management
Place research can and could contribute further to our knowledge and practice of
sustainable natural resource management. Because both place and sustainability are
located at the intersection of the biophysical and socioeconomic worlds place research
improves our understanding of sustainability. Studying place accesses the multiple
facets of sustainability, particularly the social facets, as well exploring the elusive but
essential nature of the intersections of these worlds, an intersection integral to
sustainability. However, care should be taken not to draw any dubious conclusions
about the relationships between place and sustainability. Place may be an essential
aspect of sustainability, but a strong attachment to place or sense of place may not
necessarily be linked to sustainable practices. On the other hand, placelessness may be
very strongly linked to unsustainable practices. So, place may be a necessary, but not
sufficient condition for sustainability and sustainable practices.
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The attributes of place include the physical setting, activities, experiences and identity.
Place can provide insights to people’s physical setting preferences, insights and
knowledge of great importance to managers of facilities such as national parks and
historic sites. Not only is the physical setting of great importance to the appeal of these
sites, it is also the aspect of the sites over which managers have the greatest control.
Sustainable site management depends on being able to manage such sites so that the
physical setting remains appealing while also protecting other site aspects identified as
desirable.
Similarly activities and experiences, further attributes of place, provide essential

insights for sustainable natural resource management. A reminder here, by sustainable I
mean socially as well as physically sustainable. For example, if being able to practice
some form of agriculture is an essential element of place for farmers in relation to the
farmlands in the Western Australian wheatbelt, then a cessation of this activity is likely
to break their association with their farms as a special place. Such a break may or not be
physically or biologically sustainable; from a social perspective it would not be.
Although moving farmers off highly degraded land may be better for long term
biophysical sustainability goals, in terms of ties to place and social aspects of
sustainability, such a move may jeopardise sustainability in the very broadest sense.
Therefore the ties between activities, experiences and place provide some guidance to
managers regarding changes which may jeopardise place and sustainability, if either or
both of these attributes and place are linked.
Individual and communal identity may be derived from and influenced by place. For
farmers, having productive agricultural lands appears to be an essential part of their
self-identity associated with and derived from their lands. However, caring for the land
is generally an equally important part of their identity. This example clearly illustrates
the complexities of place and of identity derived from place – identity may be based on
producing and protecting even when the two activities appear mutually exclusive. Thus,
managing for sustainability based on place must recognise that the identities derived by
people such as farmers from their farmlands may be in apparent conflict.
Conclusion
Place research provides a useful window to sustainability. Not only does place
recognise social aspects, it is also located at the intersection of biophysical and
socioeconomic considerations, a location shared with sustainability. Attachment to
place may not necessarily equate with sustainable practices but in many instances it
may. This potential connection warrants further investigation.
A number of methods can be used to measure place, ranging from quantitative, scale-
based surveys applied across a number of places to
227
qualitative, long-running ethnographic studies at one or a few places. Although each

method has its advantages and disadvantages, qualitative methods seem best for
examining the complexities of place and sustainability, especially the genius loci of
place and accurately reflecting the views of people associated with a place. Such
qualitative approaches are those preferred by social constructionists a number of whom
are currently leading the way in place research.
In all these approaches, the ability to communicate findings to managers in a way they
can readily access and use is of fundamental importance. Quantitative results are most
easily communicated, but qualitative findings are more likely to truly reflect the nature
of place. The challenge for researchers lies in being able to effectively communicate
qualitative research findings to busy managers such as public sector employees and
farmers. I emphasise managers because they are most likely to have responsibility for
sustainable or unsustainable management practices.
Acknowledgments
This research was supported by a Murdoch University 1995 Special Research Grant.
Discussions with Mrs Ann Gunness, graduate research assistant and environmental
consultant, contributed to the ideas presented in this paper.
228
References
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management: social behavior, natural resources, and the environment’. Symposium
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1996. University Park, Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State University.
Brandenburg, A.M. and M.S. Carroll 1995. ‘Your place or mine? The effect of place
creation on environmental values and landscape meanings’. Society and Natural
Resources 8: 381-398.
Brunson, M.W. 1991. ‘Effects of traditional and ‘new forestry’ practices on recreational
and scenic quality of managed forests’. Oregon State University, Oregon, PhD.
Burrell, G. and G. Morgan 1979. Sociological paradigms and organizational analysis:

elements of the sociology of corporate life. London: Heinemann.
Collier Jr, J. and M. Collier 1986. Visual anthropology: photography as a research

method. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press.
Firey, W. 1960. Man, mind and land: a theory of resource use. Westport, Connecticut:
Greenwood Press.
Harper, D.A. 1982. Good company. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Kruger, L.E. 1996. Understanding place as a cultural system: implications for theory
and method. University of Washington, Washington, PhD.
Martin, P. and J. Woodhill 1995. ‘Landcare in the balance: government roles and policy
issues in sustaining rural environments’. Australian Journal of Environmental
Management 2: 173-183.
Relph, E. 1976. Place and placelessness. London: Pion.
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230
Sustainable environments and architecture:
16 Is design social research?
Jim Gall
Introduction
This paper is written from the perspective of an architect with a background in

environmental science who has had exposure to design and scientific research methods.
Embarking on or examining social research with limited knowledge of social research
methodology can involve falling into some obvious (to social researchers) pitfalls. To
discuss some of these is one of the reasons for presenting this paper. Another is to locate
the role of architects in the context of problems of sustainability and social processes, and
the role of design in achieving sustainable development. As a first step in a broader
research process, this paper makes a number of propositions intended for discussion.
The purpose of the paper is to examine the role of design in the context of the
environmental problems associated with sustainability. The nature of sustainability and
environmental problems is briefly discussed in order to show that social issues are, or
should be, a major concern of designers. It is argued that design can be an effective means
of finding solutions to such environmental problems, and responding to and contributing to
the social changes connected to these problems in terms of attitudes and physical and social
artefacts. The role of architects and designers in environmental problems, and particularly
social aspects of them, is touched on to support the view that there is an ongoing
relationship between design and social processes. The processes of research and design are
compared. It is argued that they are different, but closely related processes, which interact
in a number of ways. Following from this, it is finally proposed that design which deals
with environmental problems is a form of social research in that it produces knowledge and
understanding, can contribute to a larger body of knowledge (social/environmental theory),
if only in a limited way, and can use this knowledge in providing environmental outcomes
relatively quickly.
A case study will be very briefly discussed to illustrate some of the major points and
describe an actual design process. This is an ongoing process for the design of ecologically
sustainable development in the Upper Coomera Valley in the Gold Coast hinterland.
231
Aspects of sustainability: environmental problems and

architects
Sustainability
A definition of sustainability will not be attempted. It is, however, important to note that
sustainability is connected to the development of low ecological impact, continuing
systems that are in part self-supporting. They are also reliant on and maintain
supporting systems. In other words, sustainable systems (places, developments, etc.)
integrate into functioning ecosystems. Systems need to be self-designing. Equity in the
exchange from one generation to the next is seen as a key element of sustainable
development. Future generations are given the opportunity and the responsibility to
adjust the systems they receive. Problems of sustainability do not have to be solved
now, in one step, but systems established now need to allow future redesign to occur.
Environmental problems
Discussion of ecosystems is a clue to the nature of the problems associated with

sustainability: they are environmental problems. These are complex and multi-
dimensional, involving dynamic interactions at various levels of resolution of those
dimensions and at various scales through space and time. They are non-linear requiring
non-linear methods of solution and non-linear solutions. Heath (1984) refers to the
earlier work of Thompson (1977) who describes them as ‘wicked problems’.
The environment and environmental problems have two primary aspects: biophysical
components and interactions; and social components and interactions. There are a
number of ways of beginning to sort out environmental problems, however most
research seems to make this primary distinction. For example, some urban designers
have a division into environmental, social and economic aspects (Kaufman, 1995). Fry
(1994) refers to biophysical and cultural ecologies, and Moore (1997) refers to
biophysical and socioeconomic concerns. These two aspects interrelate in complex
ways. Importantly, dealing with environmental problems requires consideration of both
the biophysical and social aspects of the environment and finding integrated solutions.
These make up places or built environments. Places have biophysical and social
functionality and responsiveness. Achieving sustainability requires social change
(changes in attitudes, values and behaviour) and finding solutions to environmental
problems and recognising that solutions are dependent on social change. The results are
changed physical and social artefacts: changes in the way we do things and the nature
of the places in which we do them.
A commonly accepted view is that an understanding of the environment (and measures

of attitudes and values) can be obtained by research.
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Communicating this understanding to people results, in theory at least, in changes in

attitudes and values and ultimately changes in behaviour. There are, however, examples
where change in knowledge, and hence change in attitudes, does not produce changes in
behaviour, that is, in physical and social artefacts. It is argued that this hinders the
achievement of sustainability (Lothian, 1994; Thomas, et al., 1996; Vanclay &
Lawrence, 1995; Vanclay, 1997).
Architects
Architects are environmental designers primarily concerned with the production of

places. Places are made up of physical artefacts which relate to social interactions.
Architects have traditionally seen themselves as reflecting society and concerned with
social issues (Heath, 1984; Lang, 1994). Consequently, they have seen themselves as
responding to and reflecting social change especially since the Renaissance and the
Industrial Revolution. The rise of modernism and concern with social reform ideology
saw architects attempting to be at the ‘cutting edge’ of social change: not just
responding to change and making it manifest, but driving the development of new ideas
and contributing to social change.
A commonly held view of architecture is that it provides limited technical solutions that
do not take into account most of the social (and biophysical) interactions to which their
designs should respond. This is often true – it could be argued that the profession has
two sides: technical designers (practical builders) and ideological designers. There is,
however, a significant body of architectural literature that discusses the relationships
between design, the built environment and society. So there is clearly an awareness of
social issues even if this is not transferred into practice.
Most researchers and authors support the view that design (and architecture) is
concerned with and feeds into social change (Heath, 1984; Heskett, 1993) either
consciously or unconsciously (Lang, 1994). Kernohan (1991) argues that design is a
social process. This is possible because society’s attitudes and values develop, at least
partly, from perceptions of the environment. Places designed by architects are clearly
parts of the environment and can, therefore, impact on attitudes and values. It can be
further suggested that design of places not only responds to, but also influences, society
(attitudes, values and behaviour: Honikman, 1975). A simple example is that the layout
of a building to some extent influences the social interactions in that building. To
misquote Winston Churchill: “We make our buildings and our buildings make us”.
Recent architectural literature has shown an emerging concern with environmental

sustainability issues and a recognition (re-recognition) of the inter-relationship between
ecological (biophysical) and social sustainability in designing sustainable places (e.g.,
Palasmaa, 1993). Because achieving sustainability requires the design of new types of
places, it can be said that architects and other designers have an important role in
implementing
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sustainable development – in designing places that respond to change and that have
some input into that change. Architects use design to provide solutions to complex
environmental problems (Heath, 1984; Woolley, 1981). In theory, these solutions take
account of, respond to, and influence the biophysical and social interactions of the
environment. This requires gaining knowledge of the biophysical and social interactions
and analysis of the problem. Are these part of the design process? To answer this
question it is firstly necessary to examine the design process.
Design: in theory
Just as culture and society are more than art, opera, and theatre, design is not simply the
creative manipulation of forms, colour, pattern and texture. Design is a broader and
more abstract intellectual and social process, the core principles of which are reasonably
well understood.
It is often argued that strict scientific and empirical research has difficulty dealing with
environmental problems (Zeisel, 1981). Firstly, because such research is less concerned
with solutions to problems as outcomes of the research, than it is with building,
understanding or constructing ‘a model of the world’. Secondly, its process involves
developing and testing very specific hypotheses with essentially irrefutable conclusions,
that is, it is high in rigour and low in risk. This requires that environmental problems be
broken up into parts examined in isolation as individual hypotheses. The results of
testing these hypotheses can, in theory, be put together to build a picture of the
environment, its ‘phenomena and processes’ (Lang, 1994). This understanding can then
be used to develop a solution to a problem in that environment. For a given
environmental problem, this approach is costly and time consuming, although
information and theories developed from this kind of research clearly feed into solutions
for specific environmental problems. Other methods are used to solve environmental
problems, one of which is design. The approach to ‘wicked’ environmental problems
involves not just finding solutions but defining the problem.
Heath (1984) discusses a problem solving model of design based on the work of Newell
and Simon (1972) and Banham (1965). He makes two key points:
• designing involves defining the problem (an architect might call this the brief in the
first instance, and often it is artificially limited)
• there are three main types of design problem solving:
1. recognition – just know the answer
2. generate and test – test a number of proposals for fit (linear)
3. heuristic – iterative feedback loop testing process.
Very few environmental problems are simple enough for recognition to be used,
although there are ready answers for small aspects of the larger problem. Similarly,
generating and testing solutions in a simple linear way seldom happens except for
simple problems or simple parts of larger problems. More often, a proposed solution is
tested and this testing results
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in modification of the proposal, and in many cases, the problem. All these methods have
a basis in knowledge. This is required for design decisions to be made (Heath, 1984;
Zeisel, 1981). This knowledge is in a number of forms (Farbstein & Kantrowitz, 1991):
• The designer’s experience, that is, prior knowledge, set patterns, rules of thumb, etc.
The designer can abstract or generalise memories to provide possible solutions to
problems (Oxman, 1990; Willem, 1990).
• Existing research (literature, reports, data manuals, etc.) that can be applied directly
or generalised to the design problem.
• Research related to the specific problem, for example, aspects of the site or special
user requirements. Research questions may arise during design (some of this research
may have general application).
• The design process. The designer often learns about aspects of the problem such as
characteristics of the users’ interactions. This is related to defining the problem as
mentioned above. Designing results in discoveries about the problem and proposed
solutions.
Knowledge from these sources feeds into the design process and is used in defining and
redefining proposed solutions. As noted, rarely does knowledge lead directly to a
solution in a simple linear way. The literature that examines design generally supports
the model of design as a feedback loop, or iterative heuristic (Farbstein & Kantrowitz,
1991; Zeisel, 1981; Woolley, 1970). Arguably, to see a designer working shows a
process of proposing, testing and changing – both the problem and the solution – even
for relatively small aspects of the problem such as the best location and swing of a door
in a room.
Figure 1 summarises the basic model of the design process. This process continues until
an equilibrium is reached where the proposed solution matches the problem: that is, it is
agreed that the proposed place (building or whatever) takes into account all the
biophysical and social interactions that are contained in the environmental problem.
Like the processes of the environment itself, this process occurs simultaneously at
different levels of resolution of the problem and at different scales in space and time.
Figure 1: Design process
Test
Experience Knowledge
Research
Proposal
Environment
Problem
Artefact
Representation
Concept
235
In design, testing usually involves the presentation and analysis of representations of

building or place. Testing occurs against the initial constraints and revised constraints as
the problem develops. It can be seen that these representations and the places they
represent contain a body of environmental knowledge. The representation is equivalent
to a report: it communicates knowledge, process and proposed solutions.
Design: in practice
Architects
The reality of design can be different from the process discussed above. Buildings and
other places are designed that do not work well, biophysically or socially. Time and cost
limits cause designers to rely on inadequate knowledge (Lang, 1994), to artificially limit
problems in an attempt to make them linear, and to rely on ‘force fitting’ standard
solutions. In short, designers usually attempt to short-cut the process. Architects often
rely on the general application of anecdotal, one-off experiences, historical rules of
thumb, or a fixed and limited approach (Lang, 1994). Often, architects avoid research
and theory because they think they already have too much to learn in order to do their
job as designers.
Design is also often seen and practised as an individual and internalised process. This is
often inherent in the theoretical models of design (see Heath, 1984). It is assumed that
all information is processed by one person and seldom is the design process made
explicit or involve anyone but the designer. It becomes a ‘black box’. Such a process is
subject to the limitations and biases of the individual. As Lang (1994) notes, the model
of the architect as central arbiter and artist has long existed. It waned somewhat in a
movement to community-based environmental design in the 1970s, but has risen again
in the 1980s and 1990s.
Community design
At this stage, two points need to be made. Firstly, environmental problems associated
with sustainable places can be very large, and can involve large numbers of people even
if they all belong to a particular social group such as a suburban community. Secondly,
the model of the design process discussed earlier does not require that there be a single
designer. Community-based design methods, involving groups of participants, have
been developed that are, arguably, effective and efficient means of dealing with
complex social design problems. These methods, related to action research processes
(Wisner et al., 1991), were substantially developed in the 1970s (e.g. Rapaport, 1977). It
is argued that this process is effective because it involves a group of people in the
design process, and makes the process explicit. It is, therefore, more convincing in
terms of acceptance of outcomes. This relates to Kernohan’s (1991) previously
mentioned argument that
236
design is a social process involving ‘many people in an ongoing negotiation’. As

Willem (1990) says ‘people are designers’.
Community-based design is part of a broader move to community consultation and

participation processes, and the removal of decision making ‘black boxes’. It might be
suggested that a community-based design process is a method of finding out about a
community and an environmental problem. The knowledge gained is not necessarily
made explicit but it is contained within the design proposals made and represented.
Kernohan (1991) argues that community-based design processes are particularly
valuable in times of uncertainty and social change. Lang’s (1994) data suggest that the
community focus of design is related to a concern with environmental problems which
might explain his previously noted observation about the waxing and waning of
community-based design. It also suggests that community-based design processes are
important in the context of the present social concern with environmental problems and
the associated need for social change (Lothian, 1994; Thomas et al., 1996).
Any community-based design process, if it is to be a design process, must follow the

theoretical model discussed above. It must contain an iterative, heuristic process that
allows the problem and solutions to develop. It must involve a process of gathering
knowledge, making of proposals, and the testing of these proposals. This results in the
gathering of further knowledge, new proposals and so on. A community-based design
process is clearly going to be more effective in gaining and making use of a large and
complex body of environmental knowledge than an individual designer-based process
(Ganis, 1997).
Research and design: some concluding propositions
Design and research are generally seen as separate processes. Research is seen as
concerned with producing knowledge: building ideas and theories in a rigorous way
(Heath, 1984; Zeisel, 1981). Design is seen as concerned with outcomes (Heath, 1984;
Willem, 1990; Zeisel, 1981). To quote Willem (1990): “The goal of design is not to
produce knowledge, but rather to take action to produce changes in man’s [sic]
environment”.
From the discussion of design above, however, it might be apparent that design and
research processes are closely related, especially in relation to finding solutions to
environmental problems. As Zeisel (1981) points out, research – notably applied social
research – is concerned with producing outcomes as well as with contributing to
theories. As with the rise in community-based design, the concern of research with
outcomes is strengthened by the increased social concern with environmental problems
related to sustainability.
Design can also be concerned with knowledge and theory building. The outcomes of
design (representations or built places) can be interpreted and
237
related to theories such as those in the area of behaviour or perception of the

environment. For example, an architect can design a building with a particular theory of
social relationships in mind. Whether or not the building functions socially is a test and
comment on that theory.
Apart from their final aims, the relationship between design and research occurs at two
other levels. Firstly, design requires knowledge, and research is a powerful way of
obtaining general and specific applicable knowledge. Secondly, at the level of basic
process, design and research fit the same model. Woolley (1970, 1981) shows that the
Popperian model of scientific inquiry also models the design process. This model fits at
various levels of resolution from individual specific processes to broad research and
design processes, and to social development processes. Woolley (1970) argues that the
Popperian model of research not only fits design but also the evolutionary process.
Wisner et al. (1991) discuss action research. They point out its concern with social
action outcomes arrived at through an iterative, community participation process which
involves communication and fact-finding. If the outcomes are places rather than social
outcomes, then action research is clearly similar to design. Certainly, action research –
or any form of applied research with intended outcomes – is also concerned with
gathering social knowledge as part of the process.
Zeisel (1981: 226) summarises some critical relationships between design and research:
Carrying out a research project and designing an environment are similar in that
both invent new ways to see the world around us. Research invents organisational
concepts: design arrives at plans for future settings. Yet even these differences can
be artificial: designers clearly develop concepts researchers can arrive at plans for
the future. Another similarity is that both rely on peoples’ critical faculties to
improve and refine concepts once they are presented: sketches, hypotheses, reports
and even buildings [places]. In both research and design, the more someone is able
to present and thus share ideas with others the more others are able to help refine
ideas.
At the community level, these points become more valid because of the involvement of
groups of people and the importance of communication to testing.
Added to these relationships, knowledge is gained during the design process, if only
because the designed outcomes are indicative of their constraints. For example, a plan
for a house proposed by a person is indicative of that person’s attitudes and values and
understanding of the interactions that might occur in a house (Canter, 1977; Rapoport,
1977). In the search for solutions to environmental problems, knowledge and/or
understanding of the biophysical and social interactions in the environment which is the
setting for the problem, can be gained. This may become apparent in the brief
discussion of the case study which follows. The knowledge gained is used by both those
being designed for (who are also
238
participating in the design process), and the professional designers. This knowledge can
be used in the immediate design process, dealing with a particular problem. It may also
be applied more generally in other environmental problems, or in support of a theory,
even if some interpretation is required.
The concluding proposition of this paper is that a body of social knowledge is contained
in the built or represented outcomes (places) of a design process. This knowledge may
not necessarily be made explicit (for example, as data) during the process as is required
by rigorous research. The knowledge is, however, used in the process: in the
development of designed outcomes. It might be argued, that not making knowledge
explicit, say as data on attitudes, makes the process of finding solutions to problems
faster, especially if they are complex environmental problems. Finally, it is proposed
that, because of the relationships between design and research discussed above, because
it generates, uses and stores environmental knowledge and because it can inform about
a group of people, design can be seen as a form of social research.
Case study: Upper Coomera sustainable village
This section briefly discusses an ongoing design process aimed at generating guidelines
and alternative proposals for development options in the Upper Coomera Valley near
the Gold Coast, Queensland. This involved the exploration and development of
sustainable development principles. The Upper Coomera Valley is located north of
Southport along the Coomera River in the Gold Coast Hinterland. It has been, and at
present is still, a rural area with agricultural and extractive industries, and a small
village (shop, hotel, hall ). It is close to the Pacific Highway and has ready vehicle
access to Southport retail, commercial and light industry developments. Consequently,
it is under considerable development pressure from suburban residential areas that are
extending up the valley. At present, residents live mostly on rural residential (acreage)
lots. They live in the valley because of the semi-rural lifestyle it provides.
In brief, many residents are concerned about the environmental impacts on the valley of
mass suburban development in its present form. There is concern with pollution of
water and air, impacts on native flora and fauna, reliance on private vehicle transport
and broader issues related to energy consumption and waste. The Coomera Valley
Progress Association is largely representative of this view, and is politically and
socially active in opposing and controlling development. Many other residents are more
concerned with the immediate effects of development – more people and more cars – on
their quiet semi-rural lifestyle. Irrespective of their motives, broad or narrow, residents
are willing to explore ecologically sustainable development options, although initial
discussions suggested that they do not necessarily know what these entail. Many saw
their semi-rural acreage as ecologically good practice.
239
The process
The design process occurs at two main formal levels: the broad process of the project
and the more specific process of the community design workshops. Figure 2.
summarises the broad process. It began with the Coomera Valley Progress Association
(CVPA) running a planning workshop. This was aimed at finding some alternative
planning strategies for the valley which could be used to lobby the Gold Coast City
Council (GCCC).
Figure 2: Broad Process
Planning
Workshop
C.V.P.A.
Workshop 1
* Design
* Information
Eco-Develop
Proposals
Proposal
Presentation
*design for
Eco-village
Workshops
* information
* design
Proposal
Presentation
*to GCCC
In the mid 1990s, Caroline Stalker (Architect) and John Mongard (Landscape Architect)
had received funding from the Australia Council to explore sustainable development
principles. Contact was made with the CVPA and after some initial discussion, it was
decided to explore development options for three possible sites adjacent the existing
village. The CVPA provided the ‘way into’ the local community.
It can be seen from Figure 2 that the broad process involves the gathering of knowledge,
the development of proposals at the community workshops, and the presentation of the
proposals for testing by critique/comment, in accordance with the model of design
discussed earlier. So far, two workshops and presentations have occurred. The first was
funded by the Australia Council grant and the second by the GCCC.
240
The second part of the project (the Kopps Road Local Area Plan) involved a wider set
of issues than the first because the GCCC would supply funding for the re-examination
of planning and infrastructure proposals for a larger part of the valley taking into
account principles of sustainable development. This re-examination was prompted by a
presentation to the GCCC of the outcomes of the first community design workshop: the
proposal for an ‘eco-village’ extension of the existing village. The second part was
controlled by planning consultants (GH&D, Brisbane) with the community design
workshops conducted by Caroline Stalker of Gall Medek Stalker Architects.
In this second part of the project, critical comment and reconsideration of the initial
‘eco-village’ proposal, in the broader area context, was carried out. Given funding, it
would now be possible to re-examine the design proposals to respond to, and contribute
to, new issues to continue the iterative design process. These issues relate mostly to the
community’s acceptance of particular aspects of the designed place, such as higher
residential densities and composting toilets.
Each of the community design workshops were divided into three main parts: the first
two concerned with the knowledge and the last with the development of proposed
outcomes. The first part involved the supply of information from ‘experts’ (professional
designers and researchers who had carried out some initial analysis of the area). This
formed some initial constraints and proposals: an initial definition of the design
problem. In the second part of the workshops, the community members were divided
into groups of 10-12 people. Each group had a facilitator: a professional designer acting
as a chair for the group and as an expert verbal and graphic interpreter. Each group was
asked to provide their own knowledge of the area – environmental and social resources
– and ideas for sustainable development using their own knowledge and that obtained
from the ‘experts’. A wide range of knowledge (strategies, technology, social issues,
etc) was gathered to further define the problem, providing more detailed definition of
the design problem.
Notably, within this part of the process, negotiation – proposing and testing ideas – was
needed to generate a set of ideas acceptable to the group. Some individual viewpoints
were accepted by the group and others rejected. In the end, some ideas were accepted as
final proposals which were not initially held by most members of the group(s). In this
process, there is bias caused by variation in individual participants’ communication
skills. It is the facilitator’s task to control this, and ensure that all ideas are made known
to the group. At the end of both the first and second parts of the workshops, the
information gathered was presented to the entire meeting so that the knowledge could
be dispersed through the group and used in the generation of design proposals.
The third part of the workshops involved the presentation of design proposals. This
process is similar to that of the second part, except that there is an emphasis on design
outcomes and graphic representation. This
241
particularly required proposing and testing ideas, at an individual level within the
group, to produce a design proposal from a group.
It can be seen that the propose-test process is occurring at various levels from the
individual to the group, and ultimately to the community and local government, and at
various time scales within, and as part of, the whole process. While the core design
process model is simple, the overall process as it occurs is complex. The negotiation
and presentation process arguably involved the discovery and re-evaluation of
knowledge, and hence learning. It also appears that, as argued earlier, the design
outcomes embody a range of knowledge gathered, and worked with, at the workshops.
It might be said, that individuals and the groups reflected on some of their own
preconceptions of acceptable places and practices. A change in what were seen as
acceptable outcomes, arguably reflected a change in knowledge. For example, the
proposals included highset, lightweight timber houses, on-site food growing, on-site
waste recycling systems, and roof-water pumping using windmills. These outcomes and
the images produced are not aspects of the places in which most, if not all, the
community live. Nor were these initially commonly-accepted concepts of what
residential places should be like.
Conclusion
The case study describes an actual participatory community-based design process that
largely fits the model of the design process discussed earlier. This involves the
gathering of knowledge from a variety of sources and the use of this knowledge, both
biophysical and social, in proposing solutions to environmental problems. Knowledge is
gained by direct input from individuals and through the testing of proposals. This
testing occurs at various scales from within and between individuals in the group
processes, to the broader community and local government processes. Speaking
abstractly, each part of the broader iterative loop, when looked at in detail, is made up
smaller, faster iterative loops. It can be seen that this process can be ongoing until built
solutions are achieved which are themselves proposals for testing: a still broader
design/social development process.
The case study provides some initial observations of the effectiveness of the design
process. No explicit data was collected that specifically compared community attitudes
or practices before and after the design process, or that examined in a detailed and
structured way, the knowledge gained by the participants. It does seem, however, that
there is cause to suggest that the participatory community-based design process is
effective in providing proposed solutions to environmental problems that are different
to the initial expectations of the community. The community designed things they
would not have designed without involvement in the process. They made proposals they
would not have been expected to make.
242
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Making the most of misclassification:
17 an application of discriminant analysis

to the adoption of household
waste reducing behaviours
Ian Reeve
Abstract
Classification in discriminant analysis is used to predict group membership from

respondent characteristics and as an indicator of the adequacy of discriminant solutions.
In both of these uses, incorrect classification is more a cause for concern than a matter
of interest in its own right. However, useful insights can be obtained from an
interpretation of misclassified cases. Interviewees in a State wide survey carried out by
the NSW EPA were grouped according to self-reported household waste reducing
behaviours such as composting, recycling and green purchasing. Discriminant analysis
and classification was used to assign interviewees to groups on the basis of their
situational and perceptual characteristics and regardless of the interviewees’ actual
waste reducing behaviour.
The misclassifications of interest are those where interviewees are assigned to groups
with more waste reducing behaviours than the interviewee had actually adopted. Just
over one-tenth of the sample comprised those who were recycling, but who were, on the
basis of other characteristics, more similar to those who had adopted other waste
reducing behaviours in addition to recycling. Only 1.7 percent of the sample comprised
interviewees who had adopted green purchasing only, but who were assigned to groups
who had adopted other waste reducing behaviours in addition to green purchasing. This
suggests that community education programs would be better directed to persuading
those who had adopted recycling to adopt additional behaviours, than to persuading
green purchasers to adopt additional behaviours.
Introduction
Discriminant analysis is a statistical procedure that describes the relationship between a

nominal dependent variable and continuous, interval or binary independent variables.
For example, discriminant analysis has been used to predict students at risk of failure
who were coming into a
245
course from a knowledge of previous students performance in that course and a range of
other courses (Thomas et al., 1996). The dependent variable in this case would take the
values zero and one according to whether each previous student in the data set had
passed or failed the course in question. Strober and Weinberg (1977) used discriminant
analysis to distinguish between families who had bought a particular consumer item and
those who had not, according to the female partner’s employment status, family income,
net family assets, stage of family life cycle, and whether or not the family had recently
moved. The dependent variable in this case would take the values zero or one according
to whether each family in the data set had purchased the consumer item or not. In
essence, the values of the dependent variable separate the cases in the data set into
groups, each group having the same value for the dependent variable.
Amongst the various forms of output from the procedure, are the classification
equations and classification coefficients. These linear equations, one for each value of
the dependent variable, calculate a score for each case in the data set equal to the sum
across all the independent variables of the products of the raw independent variable
values and their corresponding classification coefficient. The scores on the
classification equations can be used to assign cases to a group – each case being
assigned to the group corresponding to the highest classification equation score.
In the application of discriminant analysis described by Thomas et al., above, one set of
cases (the previous students) is used to calculate the classification coefficients. Then the
group membership of a new set of cases (the incoming students) is predicted by means
of the scores on the classification equations, i.e. the sum of the products of the
classification coefficients and the raw independent variable scores.
Classification procedures can also be used with the same set of data as was used in the
discriminant analysis. In this situation, we have two sets of values for the dependent
variable — the actual values that were used in the discriminant analysis to calculate the
classification equations, and the predicted values of the dependent variable obtained by
substituting the values of the independent variables into the classification equations and
taking as the predicted value of the dependent variable that corresponding to the
classification equation with the highest score.
To clarify using the example from Strober and Weinberg, above, discriminant analysis
on the data set comprising two groups of families, those with and those without
televisions sets would yield two classification equations — one for the group with
television sets and one for the group without. We would then take each family and,
substituting the values of the independent variables into each of the classification
equations, calculate a score from each equation. If, for a particular family, the score on
the television set equation was higher than the score on the no television set equation,
then that family would be predicted as having a television set. Some families will
actually have a television set and be predicted as having one. In this case the actual and
predicted values of the dependent variable
246
will both take the value one (assuming a value of one signifies having a television set
and zero signifies not having a television set). Other families with television sets may
be predicted as not having television sets, in which case the actual value of the
dependent variable will be one, and the predicted value will be zero.
Ideally, one would like the predicted value of the dependent variable for every case to
be the same as the actual value. However, this is rarely occurs. The cases for which the
predicted value of the dependent variable differs from the actual value are termed
misclassified cases. The proportion of misclassified cases can be used as a measure of
the adequacy of the discriminant analysis in explaining the variance of the dependent
variable from the independent variables (Tabachnick & Fidell, 1989).
However, some care has to be taken in using the proportion of correct classifications or
misclassifications as a measure of the adequacy of the discriminant analysis. It is usual
to use a proportional reduction in error measure that expresses the improvement in
prediction using the discriminant function, compared to random allocation of cases to
groups.
This paper reports on a further use of misclassification in situations where the values of
the dependent variable represent groups of people or households who have adopted
various combinations of practices. The interpretation procedure described is applicable
to situations such as groups of farmers differentiated by their use or non-use of
particular agricultural practices, or groups of firms differentiated by their accounting
practices, or groups of householders differentiated by their use or non-use of particular
recycling and waste reducing behaviours.
The NSW EPA 1994 Benchmark Survey
In 1994, the New South Wales Environmental Protection Authority commissioned a

study of environmental knowledge, skills, attitudes and behaviours among householders
in New South Wales. The study was based on 1115 approximately 45 minute face-to-
face interviews in Sydney and rural New South Wales. A stratified cluster sampling
procedure was used to ensure that a sample representative of the population of New
South Wales was obtained. A summary of the findings is given in New South Wales
Environmental Protection Authority (1994).
As part of a program of detailed analysis on specific issues covered in the 1994

Benchmark Survey, a study was undertaken on household waste reduction behaviour
(Reeve, 1995). The use of discriminant analysis and interpretation of misclassification
was developed for this study to enable inferences to be made about past and future
trends in household waste reduction behaviour from a cross-sectional survey.
Waste behaviour groups and their characteristics
The questions in the Benchmark Survey enabled the sample to be split into groups
according to the incidence of three behaviours that had or had not been adopted in the
last five years:
1. starting to recycle or doing more recycling,
247
2. starting to compost food and garden waste or doing more composting, and
3. starting to buy products with recycled content, reusable products, or products with
less packaging, or buying more such products (termed green purchasing).
The incidence of these behaviours enabled the sample to be split into six groups
according to whether or not they had adopted:
• recycling, composting and green purchasing (termed the all behaviours group),
• recycling and green purchasing,
• recycling and composting,
• green purchasing only,
• recycling only, and
• none of the behaviours (termed the no behaviours group).
There were several other combinations of behaviours but the numbers of interviewees
adopting these were too small to be included in the discriminant analysis. In all 3.3
percent of such interviewees were excluded from the analysis. The proportions of
interviewees in each of the waste behaviour groups is shown in Figure 1.
There were significant differences between the groups in both their situational
characteristics and their perceptual characteristics. Two examples are provided in
Figures 2 and 3.
A revised form of the New Environmental Paradigm (NEP) Scale developed by Dunlap,
1978 — see Stern, Dietz and Guagnano, 1995) was used. This attitudinal scale measures
where a person’s view of the environment lies between two stereotypical extremes: (a)
the environment is fragile, finite and deserving of moral consideration by humans, while
humans are seen as subject to ecological laws; or (b) the environment is robust, limitless
and exists to be exploited by humans, while humans are seen as exempt from ecological
laws.
248
Figure 1: Proportion of interviewees in each of the six waste

behaviour groups.
30
25
20
Proportion of
Interviewees 15
(%)
10
0
All R+GP R+C GP R None
Waste Reducing Behaviour Groups
The mnemonics for the groups are:

All — Recycling, composting and green purchasing;
R+GP — recycling and green purchasing;
R+C — recycling and composting;
GP — green purchasing only;
R — recycling only;
None — none of the three waste reducing behaviours.
Figure 2: Proportion of interviewees in each of the six

groups with a non-English speaking background.
35
30
Proportion of
Interviewees 25
with Non- 20
English
Speaking 15
Background 10
(%)
5
0
249
Figure 3: Proportion of interviewees in each of the six groups

whose score on the NEP Scale fell in the highest quintile
40
35
Proportion of 30
Interviewees 25
in the Top
20
Quintile on the
NEP Scale 15
(%) 10
0

Results
With respect to situational characteristics (see Reeve, 1995 for full details):
• the all behaviours group was distinguished by almost all members living in detached
housing, and by a very low proportion of people from a non-English speaking
background;
• the recycling and composting group was distinguished by higher household incomes,
and by a lower proportion of female interviewees;
• the recycling and green purchasing group was distinguished by higher levels of
education, higher levels of income, and somewhat lower than average proportion of
members living in detached housing;
• the green purchasing group was distinguished by the relatively low proportion of
members in detached housing, the higher than average proportion of members with
clerical occupations, and the relatively high proportion of female interviewees;
• the recycling group was about average on situational characteristics included in the
analysis; and
• the no behaviours group was distinguished by lower household incomes, lower
education levels, a greater proportion of retirees and a higher proportion of members
from a non-English speaking background.
250
With respect to perceptual characteristics (see Reeve, 1995 for full details):
• the all behaviours group was distinguished by very high scores on the New
Ecological Paradigm Scale (Figure 3) and by a high proportion of people nominating
waste as a local issue of concern to them;
• the recycling and composting group and the recycling and green purchasing group
were similar with respect to many of the perceptual characteristics considered and
tended to occupy a position intermediate between the all behaviours group and the no
behaviours or recycling groups;
• the green purchasing group was distinguished by the relatively high proportion of
people who believe that their environmentally harmful behaviour is unavoidable;
• as for the situational characteristics, the recycling group rated about average on the
perceptual characteristics included in the analysis, the only exception being the
proportion of people nominating waste as a local issue of concern, this proportion
being the lowest of the six groups; and
• the no behaviours group was distinguished by low levels of environmental concern,
low proportions of people suggesting that their environmentally harmful behaviour is
unavoidable and low proportions of people nominating waste as a local issue of
concern.
Discriminant analysis and misclassification
A discriminant analysis was run with group membership as the dependent variable and
70 independent variables spanning the main perceptual and situational characteristics
covered in the Survey. The classification matrix from this analysis is shown in Table 1.
The percentage figure at the intersection of each row and column is the proportion of
interviewees who were actually members of the group corresponding to the row but
were classified by the discriminant analysis to the group corresponding to the column.
For example, 4.6 percent of interviewees were actually recycling, but were classified as
not having adopted any waste reduction behaviours.
251
Table 1: Classification matrix showing actual and predicted

group membership.
Classification matrix showing actual and predicted group

membership. The figures in the cells of the matrix are percentages
of the total number of interviewees in the discriminant analysis
(1078). The figures in bold are correct predictions and those in
plain text are predictions.
Actual Predicted Group Membership
Group
Mbrship All R+GP R+C GP R None
All 2.9 0.3 0.6 0.3 0.2 0.2
R+GP 2.7 7.9 3.4 2.7 2.9 1.3
R+C 0.7 0.8 5.7 1.0 1.1 0.6
GP 0.8 0.9 0.9 3.6 0.5 0.7
R 3.1 4.9 3.4 3.2 10.0 4.6
None 1.4 1.6 2.6 1.8 3.2 17.4
Interpretation of misclassification
The interviewees assigned to a predicted group that differs from the actual group have,
like those assigned to a predicted group the same as their actual group, been assigned on
the basis of the values of the independent variables. In other words, given the
information contained in the independent variables (70 different situational and
perceptual variables in this case), and not knowing the actual group membership, the
predicted group is the group to which the interviewee is most likely to belong, based on
the relationships between the dependent and independent variables identified by the
discriminant analysis.
An interviewee assigned to a predicted group different from their actual group is

assumed to be, as far as can be ascertained from the information in the independent
variables, more like the interviewees actually in the group predicted than the
interviewees in the group of which the interviewee being assigned actually belongs. To
clarify with the previous example, the 4.6 percent of interviewees who are actually in
the recycling group, but are misclassified into, or predicted as being in, the no
behaviours group are, on the basis of their situational and perceptual characteristics,
more like the interviewees who are actually in the no behaviours group, than like the
interviewees who are actually in the recycling group. So this 4.6 percent of
252
interviewees is, ignoring their actual waste reduction behaviour, most like those in the
no behaviours group.
A number of inferences can be drawn from the pattern of misclassifications if a key

requirement is met and a key assumption is made. The requirement is that the
proportions of misclassified cases in the cells be significantly different from what might
be expected if the probability of misclassification was independent of the position of
cells in the matrix. If the probability of misclassification is independent of position in
the classification matrix, then the probability of a member of the all behaviours group
being misclassified as a member of the green purchasing group, for example, is the
same as the probability of a member of the recycling group being misclassified as a
member of the recycling and composting group. Given the independence of probability
of misclassification, an expected frequency for the number of misclassified cases that
would occur in each cell can be calculated. The null hypothesis that the probability of
misclassification is independent of position in the classification matrix can be tested
with a chi-square test. For Table 1 above, and restricting the test to the 24
misclassification cells with expected frequencies greater than five, chi-squared with 23
degrees of freedom is 220.4, which enables the rejection of the null hypothesis.
The key assumption is that there is a causal connection between at least some of the
independent variables in the discriminant analysis and group membership. The
relationships identified by Reeve (1995) between group membership on the one hand,
and situational and perceptual characteristics on the other suggest that this assumption
is plausible. For example, the green purchasing group had the lowest proportion of
interviewees who living in detached dwellings, the highest proportion working in
clerical occupations, the highest proportion of females, the highest proportion giving
necessity as a reason for their environmentally harmful behaviour, and the highest
proportion giving as a reason for adopting environmentally friendly behaviours, “I read
a book or magazine or I saw films or TV programs that made an impression on me”. For
females living in flats and apartments, recycling and composting are likely to be more
difficult waste reduction behaviours to adopt, because of the inconvenience of access to
recycling receptacles on ground floors and possibly in areas where security is a concern,
and because of the lack of appropriate areas in which composting could be carried out.
It is also plausible that females in flats and apartments and working in clerical
occupations have a higher degree of engagement with consumer culture and associated
media. Green purchasing prompted by advertising or media personalities is the most
likely way such people could assuage their concerns about their environmentally
harmful behaviour, given the obstacles they face in adopting recycling or composting
behaviours.
It should be added that causality need not be assumed to be uni-directional. For

example, Reeve(1995) found that the all behaviours group had the highest proportion of
interviewees who nominated waste as an important local issue. While it is possible that
those who were concerned about local waste issues responded by adopting waste
reducing behaviours, it is also
253
possible that some may have formed the opinion that waste was an important local issue
because of the lack of other people adopting the behaviours they were already
practicing.
If the requirement and assumption described above are, respectively, met and accepted,
then a number of interpretations can be placed on the misclassification figures in Table
1. Firstly, if the proportions of misclassifications are summed for each group defined by
their actual behaviour, it can be seen that those who are recycling are the most likely to
be misclassified — 19.2 percent of all interviewees are people who are recycling, but
whose situational and perceptual characteristics are more akin to people in other groups.
This high rate of misclassification is consistent with the observation that the wide
publicity given to recycling, and the high level of promotion of recycling by
corporations and the state, means that recycling behaviour is no longer necessarily an
indicator of environmentalist ideals (see, for example, Schnaiberg, 1992). Recycling
behaviour now occurs at all levels in society and is therefore difficult to predict from
information about situational and perceptual characteristics. If recycling behaviour is
penetrating into the most environmentally unconcerned levels of society, then it would
be expected that there would be a reasonable number of people who are recycling, but
who have the situational and perceptual characteristics of those who have not adopted
any waste reduction behaviours. Consistent with this, the cell in Table 1 with the second
highest proportion of misclassifications (4.6 percent) is that corresponding to those who
are actually recycling but are most like the no behaviours group in terms of their
situational and perceptual characteristics.
A number of interpretations can also be made from Table 1 that provide guidance for
targeting community education programs. Given the assumption about causality
described above, it could be argued that people misclassified into cells that involve
more waste reducing behaviours than they have actually adopted may be more likely to
adopt these additional behaviours in the future, than people misclassified into cells that
involve fewer waste reducing behaviours than they are actually practicing. Table 1
shows that those in the no behaviours group misclassified to other groups that include
recycling as a behaviour comprise 8.8 percent of all interviewees (i.e. the sum of 1.4,
1.6, 2.6 and 3.2 percent). Similarly, those in the recycling group misclassified to groups
that involve additional behaviours other than recycling comprise 11.4 percent of all
interviewees. These are substantial proportions of the population compared to, say,
those in the groups with two waste reducing behaviours who were misclassified to the
all behaviours group (3.4 percent from Table 1). Similarly, proportion of the population
who are green purchasers only, but were misclassified to groups with green purchasing
and one or more additional behaviours comprises only 1.7 percent of the population.
This suggests that, in New South Wales, community education efforts might be most
fruitfully directed to encouraging those who have not adopted any waste reduction
behaviours to adopt recycling, and to encourage those who
254
have adopted recycling to adopt either composting or green purchasing or both. The
latter target group, comprising a higher proportion of the population than the former,
might be given greater priority in community education on the grounds that it is a larger
market segment to target, and that it may be easier to persuade those who have already
adopted recycling to adopt further behaviours that it would be to persuade those who
have not adopted any waste reducing behaviours to adopt recycling.
Conclusion
Classification procedures in discriminant analysis are normally used to provide a

measure of the adequacy of the discriminant analysis, viz. the extent to which group
membership, the dependent variable, can successfully predicted by a knowledge of the
independent variables in the analysis. In this situation, the focus is on minimising the
amount of misclassification.
The approach described above shows that useful insights can be drawn from the
classification procedure by focussing on the patterns within the misclassifications.
However, the validity of interpreting misclassification patterns in this way depends
upon a key requirement and a key assumption. The requirement is that the pattern of
misclassifications be significantly different from what would be expected if
misclassification was independent of position in the classification matrix. The
assumption is that there are causal links between group membership and the
independent variables used in the discriminant analysis.
This interpretive approach is best suited to situations where a population can separated
into groups on the basis of the adoption of various practices, and where there is a
tendency, or a desire, for the levels of adoption of the practices of interest to increase
over time. Environmentally friendly household behaviours and the adoption of
agricultural practices are two areas where this approach is likely to provide useful
insights.
Acknowledgments
The assistance of the New South Wales Environment Protection Authority in making
the data from the 1994 Benchmark Survey is gratefully acknowledged.
255
References
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Reeve, I. 1995. ‘Trends in the adoption of household waste reduction behaviour’.

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Schnaiberg, A. 1992. ‘The recycling shell game: multinational economic organisation

vs. local political ineffectuality’. Paper prepared for the 4th North American
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psychological context’. Environment and Behavior 27(6): 723-743.
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256
The social sustainability of agriculture
18 in the urban-rural region:

attitudes of farmers to control of,
and decision making about,
farming on the urban-rural fringe
R. Neumann, R.E. Rickson and G.T. McDonald
Introduction
A recent report exploring the question of sustaining world food security described a
global scenario in which 10 billion people would need to be fed (Dutch NGO Working
Group, 1996). The group identify the threat to sustainability as coming from now
familiar non-sustainable agricultural practices (eg erosion, desertification), but also
from urbanisation of rural land. The report argues that, with statistics like the loss of
one million hectares of arable land to highways and urban development in the United
States per annum, and an estimated loss of 30 percent of arable land in China to urban
and rural construction during the period 1957-1977, much of the world’s current stock
of arable land would need to go to urban development to meet the living needs of the
extra 10 billion people.
In Australia, the extent of threat to farmland from urbanisation is determined by the

concentration of most arable farming land in roughly the same coastal regions as the
concentration and growth of population (Bryant & Johnston, 1992). This situation
creates an enduring problem for the sustainable development of Australian cities, that is,
conflict over competing land use for urban residential, commercial and industrial
development, infrastructure, farming, and conservation.
The Coastal Zone Inquiry (Resource Assessment Commission, 1993) reports that 86
percent of Australians live in the coastal zone, with 25 percent of these in non-
metropolitan areas. Continuous strips of urbanisation have developed on the coast, for
example, from southern New South Wales to Hervey Bay in Queensland, in parts of
Melbourne, Perth and North Queensland. The Coastal Zone Report predicts that future
impacts on the coastal zone are likely to include further urbanisation and loss of land
currently used for primary productive purposes.
257
***
REPLACE PAGE
with map
Figure 1: The South East Queensland Region.
258
The South East of Queensland, where population growth is consistently among the
highest in Australia, provides an example of the situation at a regional and local level.
South East Queensland, illustrated in figure 1, is expected to grow in population by 1.12
million, to around 3 million, by the year 2011 (RPAG, 1993c). Such growth would
require an estimated demand for 155000 hectares of living space, of this 45000 hectares
for rural residential, at current densities (RPAG, 1993b), or an annual contribution of
7750 hectares for residential accommodation, business and infrastructure (Capelin &
Harle, 1994). RPAG (1993a) calculates that there is already sufficient cleared land
available to accommodate population growth in the next 20 years. The implication of
the RPAG analysis is that productive agricultural land is not lost to urbanisation and
residential purposes through an excess of demand over supply of natural resource, but
through a failure of planning and statutory provisions to properly order land use in a
sustainable manner. Similar scenarios and expression of concern occur in areas around
other Australian cities, as does a planning response from state governments (see NSW
Agriculture, 1997; Houston, 1994).
The focus of sustainability of agriculture on the fringe
The sustainability of agriculture in the urban-rural region is one important aspect of

planning for the future of these areas. However, it could be argued that the focus of
planning for sustainability is narrow when considered against the basic principles of
sustainability. The World Conservation Strategy for the 1990s specifies that there are
four principles – ecological, economic, social, and cultural sustainability- which need to
be satisfied. Planning the future of agriculture on the fringe has tended to focus on
ecological and economic sustainability, on the structural elements which affect the
survival of agriculture. However, social sustainability requires that development
increase people’s control over their lives and maintain and strengthen community
identity, while cultural sustainability requires that development be compatible with the
culture and values of people affected by it (World Conservation for the 1990s, 1989:
49). Social sustainability also argues for individuals’ participation in decisions that most
affect them, public choice, qualitative development in human life, and community
participation.
Current approaches to preserving farmland on the fringe focus on the mechanisms and
strategies which address the structural needs for preservation of agricultural land. By
way of example RPAG (1993c) policies include the assessment and definition in local
authority plans of good quality agricultural land, and provisions such as tax and rural
restructuring to provide financial incentive to preserve good quality agricultural land.
Other policies provide exclusion in planning schemes of uses incompatible with good
agricultural land, the provision of buffers between conflicting uses, control of minimum
subdivision sizes, and consideration of the requirements of the agricultural food
processing industries. The focus of these policies is on the structural elements of the
farm and farmland,
259
lacking is a focus on farming as a way of life, on the farmer, and on the family farm.
Indeed empathy for farming has been identified as an important component of the
national psyche and embedded in both urban and rural values (Dalecki & Coughenour,
1992; Molnar & Wu, 1989).
The second problem in considering sustainability of farming in the urban-rural region is

with planning itself, in particular with mechanisms for implementation and the ability of
policies to be implemented on the ground by local authorities. Problems with planning
have been variously described as an inappropriate spatial focus on local government
areas, inadequate funding, compartmentalisation of responsibility among levels of
government, inflexibility of decision making and a conservative planning culture
(Houston, 1994; Halliburton, 1995; Macklin, 1994). McDonald (1992) argues that good
land use planning has the ability to avoid and mitigate the effects of this conflict but the
dominance of local politics by short term thinking and by economic and social priorities
results in reactive short term planning rather than long term rational planning.
McDonald (1993) notes that it is difficult to get strong local support for planning (an
activity in the public interest) compared with strong opposition to a particular decisions
(an action in the self interest).
One important component of success of any plans, indeed the success of any conflict
over use of land resources, would be the acceptance and support of planning initiatives
by all stakeholders in the process. Clearly farmers, and specifically their attitudes to
land use planning, will play a crucial role in the implementation and success of
whatever policies and processes emerge on the urban-rural fringe. They are major
landholders and will undergo pressure to sell their land for conversion to non-farm uses.
Success of land use planning will in part be dependent on its acceptance and support by
farmers, and participation of farmers in its process and implementation.
The decision making context for farmers on the fringe
The decision making context for farmers on the fringe is somewhat unique and differs
from most other agricultural farming areas in that the value of land may be derived from
other than agricultural sources. The penetration of urban based economic functions into
rural areas adjacent to cities and the development of neo-Marxist explanations in
sociology have been instrumental in highlighting a need for revision of the meaning of
‘rural’, and the identity of rural sociology itself, as it applies to the urban-rural fringe
(Friedland, 1982). The dynamics of change on the fringe is better explained from a
political economy perspective rather than a more traditional one of human ecology
(Walton, 1993; Logan & Molotch, 1987) Such a political economy approach focuses on
the relationship between spatial organisation and development, and the production,
circulation and consumption of capital (Walton, 1993; Baldassare, 1992). This concept
has its origins in Marx’s concept of ‘commodification’. Essentially, commodification is
the buying and selling of goods and labour to generate
260
profit which is the substance of capitalist enterprise (Giddens, 1986). For capitalist
societies in general, and the urban-rural region in particular, space itself becomes an
important commodity, with land and buildings the substance of exchange (Giddens,
1986).
There are two consequences of this evolution of urban sociological theory that are of
particular relevance to the urban-rural region. First, as Giddens (1986) notes,
commodification has transformed the city/country division as a physical and social
space through the capitalisation and mechanisation of agriculture and division of built
environment versus nature, rather than city versus countryside. Rather than arbitrary
divisions of rural and urban, a sociology of space and the accumulation and distribution
of capital within that space, is of more theoretical relevance (see Walton, 1993; Logan
& Molotch, 1987).
Second, if accumulation and distribution of capital (commodification) is of theoretical

relevance, then identification of the specific nature of this capital in the urban-rural
context becomes important in explaining decision making in the urban-rural region. Rex
and Moore (1967) describe a commodification based on the relationship between the
housing market, industrial and financial capital, and labour market which allows for
class distinction based on desirability of location, mortgage borrowings, and ownership
status. In the urban-rural region this significant accumulation of capital is represented
by the land market. Arguably, settlement is determined by this market in land (and
buildings) and its nature is derived by understanding the price of place and peoples’
responses to prices. The market then is what Walton (1993) describes as a social
construction generated by conflict between residential groups concerned with the use
value of property, and entrepreneurs whose concern is in realising capital gain from the
exchange value of property.
Thus the ‘use’ value of the land in the urban-rural market is best represented by its
value for residential use, or alternatively for farming. Clearly in the urban-rural region
the former is considerably greater than the latter. However, the value is determined by a
complex of demand by urban residents, the action of planning authorities, and the
attitudes of farmers to conversion of the land. The composition of the social groups
which constitute the urban-rural region and their particular valuation of the natural
resource space they occupy, or perceive as significant to their lifestyle quality (see
Logan & Molotch, 1987), becomes important in determining price value of the market
commodity – land.
The farmer becomes a key stakeholder in the political economy of the land market by
virtue of ownership of much of the commodity. This position of the farmer, perched on
the horns of a dilemma of ownership which bestows an economic value which can only
be realised through relinquishing that ownership, emerges as an important focus for
study of the changing pattern of land use and land value, and consequently for the
sustainability of farming in the urban-rural region.
261
There are two important implications of this argument for sustaining agriculture in
urban-rural regions.
One of the consequences of the expectation that the residential use values of land will
exceed farming values is the anticipation by farmers in the urban-rural region that
conversion will inevitably occur and that the land will move to a ‘higher and better’,
that is residential, use. The first implication is that the farmer has choice about use of
land, an option to sell land for gain which is essentially unavailable to farmers in other
locations. Land values which are on offer by virtue of the use value of land for
residential purposes can only be realised by moving out of farming. At the one time
farmers decision making is confronted by option and dilemma. The dilemma is such
that, in a monetary sense, the use value can only be realised by ceasing farming and
forgoing the non-monetary values of farming as a way of life.
A second implication of encroaching development relates to the its effect on farmers’

attitudes to stewardship of the farm. This is best encapsulated in the concept of the
impermanence syndrome described by Nelson (1992). The syndrome is characterised as
a belief held by farmers that agriculture in their area has limited or no future, and
urbanisation is imminent. The manifestation of this expectation is a disinvestment in
farming, sale of some land for non-farm use, shifting of the farm enterprise to crops
which give short term capital return for low investment of labour or capital, and the
running down or ‘mining’ of the soil resource (Nelson, 1992; Bryant & Johnston, 1992;
Bryant et al., 1982). It is argued that the wind down of farm activity in this way
contributes to the decline, and eventual collapse of the farming economy (Berry, 1977;
Daniels & Nelson, 1986; Nelson, 1992), despite the persistence and resistance to change
by some farm enterprises under certain conditions (Bryant & Johnston, 1992).
These two implications point to structural and institutional facets of farming which
influence farmers attitudes to conversion of farmland, and their decisions about the use
of their land.
Structural and institutional factors and decision making
Structural factors such as the globalisation of agriculture through integration of

markets, corporate farming and agribusiness, and shifts in national policy on agriculture
which accommodate globalisation, increase pressure on farmers to maintain economic
viability of the farm and to maintain decision making autonomy (Vanclay & Lawrence,
1995; Lawrence, 1987). New management technologies, communication technologies,
and the ability to move capital across national boundaries have accompanied these
changes. Some alternatives such as niche markets which take advantage of urban
demand, reduced farm spending, increased borrowings, resource exploitation, and off-
farm employment have been identified as strategies, or buffers, for some farmers (Bain,
1987; Blandy, 1987), but these options are limited for many Australian farmers
(Lawrence et al., 1992; Vanclay &
262
Lawrence, 1995). The option of selling the farm and moving out of farming is a strategy
of particular relevance because of the differential use value of land in the urban-rural
region. Despite uncertain enumeration of the extent to which this option has been
adopted, and an enduring resource economic debate over whether conversion is indeed
a problem if it occurs, policy makers have introduced elements into planning to address
farmland preservation.
Some farmers are seen to persist in farming and maintaining the family farm despite
structural pressures which would suggest selling the farm to be a rational option. This
tenacity may be explained in terms of institutional factors acting to maintain the family
farm and farming way of life. For example, it has been argued that in rural sociology
agrarianism has been shown to be an important concept in the understanding of this
institutional persistence of rural farming communities (Rohrer & Douglas, 1969; Flinn &
Johnson, 1974; Buttel & Flinn, 1975). The expression of agrarian attitudes and agrarian
ideology has persisted despite the tenets of agrarianism to which farmers, and indeed a
wide cross section of society, adhere, having been shown to be mythical, and grounded in
symbols, in contrast with the structural reality of modern farming as a business operation
(Neumann, 1996). It provides a significant promoting or legitimising of certain types of
attitudes, and the expression of agrarian attitudes and agrarian ideology is deeply embedded
in Australian rural and urban society. Ruralism, which incorporates rural values which are
not exclusively agricultural values but which reflect the wider interest in, and use of rural
land by, non-farm sectors of the community, represents a shift away from strictly agrarian
values. The discrepancy between agrarian ideology and the reality of modern farming in the
urban-rural region, and the discrepancy between the rural conservatism aligned to the self
interest of the farmer and the wider rural lifestyle values aligned to a wider public interest,
also contribute to conflict and tension over decision making (Neumann, 1996).
The context for farmers’ decision making may be represented as a polar contrast. The poles
are characterised by the structural and institutional dimensions of decision making.
Elements of the polar contrast are identified as economic reality versus ideological
persistence; ‘big’ farming enterprise versus ‘small’ farming enterprise; external control by
government and corporation versus farmer and farm family autonomy; financial amenity
through sale of farmland for non-farm purposes versus lifestyle amenity of farming as a
way of life; resignation and exploitation of the farmland resource in the face of urbanisation
versus commitment to stewardship and long term family farm management; and rural-
urban values of the new residential ‘middle class’ versus the agrarian values specific to
farming and the farming way of life (Neumann, 1996; Montmarquet, 1989).
Decisions may be made as they relate to these institutional and structural poles; but is
decision making a simple conflict over choosing which of the above poles to adopt, or can
rational decisions be made at both poles? Using the theoretical formulation of Mooney
(1983, 1988), it can be argued that farmers in the urban-rural region occupy contradictory
class positions along a
263
continuum. On Mooney’s continuum rational decisions can be made both at the formal
capitalist (ie the structural) and the substantive (ie institutional) poles of the continuum.
That farmers may simultaneously hold opposite positions, which are not irrational, on land
use issues, is a logical consequence of this argument.
Predicting the likely decisions farmers will make with respect to farming and land use
planning to control the conversion of farmland to nonfarm uses is uncertain in such a
climate. The following brief case study gives some insight into this uncertainty by
considering attitudes to the problem of conversion and who should make decisions about
land use.
Case study: farmers attitudes to land use planning on the

urban-rural fringe.
The urban-rural region is an area associated with metropolitan development in all parts
of Australia. For this case study the description of land use issues and change has been
made in relation to south east Queensland as defined in the SEQ2001 study (RPAGa,
1993). This geographic area is representative of the urban-rural region, and is illustrated
in figure 1.
The data reported here are collected from two shires in the south western quadrant of
the Brisbane metropolitan region. Moreton Shire is located 20 km and Boonah Shire 50
km, from the metropolitan fringe and both are a further 30 km from the city centre. The
shires cover the geographic area from the urban/metropolitan core to rural hinterland
and include nodes of settlement (Rosewood, Boonah, Kalbar), rural residential
development and preferred development zones as defined in the SEQ2001 study and
Gutteridge et al (1992).
Non-farm population rise has been rapid in Moreton Shire but modest in Boonah. In
1991 Moreton Shire had a population of 50700 and Boonah 6500. On current
projections Boonah will have a population of 10500 and Moreton 145000 in 2011
(RPAGa, 1993). Over the past 20 years there has been a decline in the employment in
agriculture and mining, in contrast with an increase in all other sectors. In both shires
the number of commercial farms has declined since 1976, but a trend to fewer, larger
farms has seen gross values of agricultural production remain fairly stable over the
period 1976-1991 (Neumann, 1996).
The area is important for market gardening and dairying on irrigated river flats, with the
rolling hills comprising most of the shires being given over to beef cattle. Significant
amounts of rural residential and hobby farming subdivision are going on in both shires.
Between 1986 and 1991, there was an average annual growth rate of rural residential
population of 2.9 percent in Boonah Shire and 13 percent in Moreton, the latter being
the highest for all local government areas in south east Queensland.
264
For the study reported below a random sample of 500 commercial owner operated farms
equally drawn from the two shires was sampled by mail questionnaire. Of the 500, 66
respondents were not included as part of the final sample (not bona fide farmers,
deceased etc). A return of 314 gave a response rate of 72.4 percent. A large bank of
questions sought farmers attitudes on, inter alia, background characteristics of the
farmer (age education family situation etc), awareness and perception of the conversion
of farmland to non-farm use, attitudes to land use problems and land use planning,
decision making about land use. The following section considers in particular results on
the attitudes to aspects of decision making.
Results and discussion: farmers and decision making about

urban-rural land use.
Background
The results reveal a number of points which are consistent with the notion of
institutional persistence and tenacity of the family farm and commitment to farming.
Farms in the shires exhibit many of the characteristics of the traditional family farm
which act to maintain the farm in the face of structural influences. They are in general
family owned and operated, use family labour, take advantage of part time work off-
farm, have low reliance on credit, persist in conditions of low profit margins and have
long experience in farming. Successful farmers show characteristics of being in the
latter stage of their life cycle with long established farms and high equity, avoiding the
need to expand the family farm, and being able to withstand the vagaries of markets and
weather. By contrast, a small group of farmers who had short farm times (younger), had
not always been a farmer, not had a father who was a farmer, and was not working a
family farm has been identified as being in a high risk category in terms of continuity of
farming. The latter are most likely to be associated with change from farm to non farm
use of land in the evolution of the urban-rural region. The results indicate a high level of
commitment to farming by the farmers sampled. They show a history of
intergenerational continuity within families and on established farms, and commitment
to farming in the future, although the intention of their children, on to whom they wish
to pass the farm, has not been ascertained (Neumann, 1996).
There is high level of support for agriculture as the basic occupation of importance to
society (92 percent either mildly agree or strongly agree) and for agricultural land to not
be used for any other purpose (89 percent either mildly agree or strongly agree). There
is also strong support for government to prevent foreign ownership (75 percent) and
ownership by non-farm corporations (67 percent).
265
Farmers in the Moreton-Boonah Shires do have a high level of awareness and concern
about the problem of loss of farmland to non-farm uses and of the opportunity there is to
sell land for such purposes. Almost 60 percent of farmers saw the loss of land for
residential growth as the most serious loss of farmland in Queensland, and over 90 percent
saw it as one of the top three causes of farmland loss. There is some difference in their
perception of the magnitude of the problem between the state, and the Shire, as is indicated
in Figure 2. Farmers see the loss of land to residential use as the greatest loss of farmland in
Queensland but the third largest land use problem in the Shire. Soil loss from farming and
adequacy of water supply were seen as larger problems in the Shire, both of which are self
interest problems of immediate consequences.
Figure 2: Farmers’ perception of the magnitude of the problem

of conversion of farmland to non-farm uses.
Perception of Land Use Conversion Problem

40
37
30
Per centage of far mer s
29
27
24
20 23 23
15 16
10
Qld.
0 Shire
None Small Medium Large
Extent of problem
Who should make decisions about land use on the fringe?
Important questions for sustaining agriculture on the fringe are whether farmers are
supportive of land use planning which helps prevent conversion of farmland to non-
farm uses, what are their preference for a locus of decision making about preserving
farmland, and how will farmers address uncertainty and the dilemma of making choice
between selling their own land for profit (with consequent non-agricultural conversion)
and remaining in farming.
The results indicate high levels of support for land use planning at a generic level which
is consistent with the public interest. Figure 3 indicates 80 percent of farmers were
mildly or very supportive of the idea of land use planning.
Figure 3: Farmers’ support for land use planning in the urban-

rural region.
266
Support for Land Use Planning

Very opposed
30 / 10%
Mildly opposed
30 / 10% Very favourable
116 / 38%
Mildly favourable
128 / 42%
However, there is a dichotomy of opinion (56 percent support) over support for a
permanent government body to be responsible for this land use planning, and there is
differential support for the various levels of government preferred if such a body were
to be formed. Indeed, farmers support the status quo of government responsibility, that
is, in their lack of support for federal government responsibility, and their strong
support for local government responsibility. Table 1 indicates this differential support.
Notably, support for local government is given where decisions impact upon self
interest at the local level, and where there is greater access to control and influence over
decision makers. Predicably, support for federal government responsibility is for
funding of other planning activities.
Table 1: Farmers’ support for levels of government

responsibility for various land use planning activities.
Level of Government Responsible

Land Use Planning Activity - percent (number)
Local State Federal Undecided
Determination of sub-division limits 68 (200) 25 (72) 3 (10) 4 (12)
Land zoning 66 (194) 27 (80) 3 (8) 4 (13)
Final approval of land use plans 46 (137) 41 (123) 7 (20) 6 (17)
Land valuation 41 (122) 52 (154) 4 (11) 4 (11)
Enforcement of land use regulations 38 (120) 43 (126) 8 (23) 8 (24)
Preparation of guidelines for land use planning 32 (95) 53 (154) 9 (27) 6 (17)
Research on the nature and extent of land use 28 (83) 53 (156) 13 (37) 6 (18)
problems
Public education about land use 23 (66) 59 (172) 14 (41) 4 (13)
Funding of land use programmes 8 (22) 51 (147) 35 (101) 6 (18)
These questions go some way to addressing farmers’ acceptance of land use planning in
general and responsibility for various land use activities. On the question on the
preferred locus for decision making about conversion of farmland to non-farm use in
particular, farmers reveal strong support for decision making by farmers as individuals,
and secondly by voluntary government programmes. This is indicated in figure 4.
Farmers are less supportive of government regulation and are particularly non
supportive of farmer group decision making. These results are consistent with a self
267
interest, family farm, perspective in decision making, and they polarise the issue of
support to either farmer or government, or both.
Figure 4: Farmers’ preferred locus of decision making about

land use.
Preferred Locus of Decision Making

Government laws
51 / 17%
The farmer
132 / 43%
Voluntary programmes
117 / 38%
Farmers as group
7 / 2%
While figure 4 indicates little support for formal government regulation, at other points
very strong support for formal government decision making and action to control
conversion of farmland to non-farm uses were recorded. Eighty percent of farmers
either mildly agreed or strongly agreed that the government should make regulations
prohibiting the conversion of farmland to other purposes. Ninety-five percent want the
government to keep a register of foreign ownership of agricultural land, and as noted
previously, large percentages want government prevention of foreign, and non-farm
corporation, ownership. This represents a formal, structural pole of decision making. In
stark contrast, 71 percent either mildly or strongly agree that a farmer should have the
right to sell their own land to whomever they please, regardless of its future use.
These results reveal that a significant number of individual farmers support both
individual decision making (institutional, self interest) and government decision making
(structural, public interest) simultaneously. Table 2 gives some insight into the extent to
which individual farmers may
268
simultaneously hold opposite views on decision making about farmland. For example,
over 60 percent of farmers believe that there should be government regulations
prohibiting the conversion of high quality agricultural land to other purposes, but at the
same time these same farmers indicate they believe persons who own land have the
right to sell it to whomever they please, regardless of its future use. These positions
would appear contrary, or incompatible.
Table 2: Percentage of farmers who simultaneously hold

contrary views on selected land use variables.
‘Private Interest’ Variables

Persons who own Public goals Which statement
land have the right should be given a best reflects your
‘Public Interest’ to sell it to higher priority in views on the
Variables whomever they deciding the use of conversion of
please, regardless land than the farmland to non-
of its future use* wishes of farm use: farmer;
individual owners farmer group;
** voluntary progs;
govt laws***
1. There should be
government regulations
prohibiting the 60.7 63.5 35.6
conversion of high (184) (190) (107)
quality agricultural land
to other purposes
2. The government
should keep a register of 65.4 68.8 41.7
foreign ownership of (200) (207) (146)
agricultural land
3. Land which is suited
to agriculture should not 62.1 63.8 36.7
be used for any other (190) (192) (112)
purpose
* Percentage is indicates positive response (mildly or strongly agree) on both variables.
** Percentage indicates a negative response (mildly or strongly disagree) to the ‘Private Interest’
variable, and positive response to the ‘Public Interest’ variable.
*** Percentage indicates support for farmer decision making on the ‘Private Interest’ variable, and
positive response to the ‘Public Interest’ variable.
269
This, however, is not indecision on the part of farmers, as the views are held
simultaneously. The theoretical literature, as discussed earlier, suggests that farmers
may occupy contradictory positions on a continuum from formal (or structural), to
substantive (or institutional) rationality, and that this situation represents a rational
approach to decision making (see Mooney, 1983, 1988). Farmers’ ambivalence,
demonstrated here in relation to individual versus government decision making about
farmland use, is consistent with this theoretical notion. The differential use values for
agricultural and for residential uses in the urban-rural region provide a context for polar
positions.
Conclusion
Planning for sustainable use of farmland on the urban-rural fringe will need to consider
ecologically, economic, social and cultural components. This paper has argued that
farmers occupy a special stakeholder role in planning issues for the urban-rural fringe.
Their opinions on relevant land use planning policies are not always sought, and as
indicated here, the decision making environment is complex. As owners of the land they
will make important decision about whether land remains in agriculture, or is converted
to no-farm uses. Their decision will be influenced by the differential use value of land
for agricultural and for rural residential purposes. This creates a dilemma for farmers
who wish to address structural challenges facing farming – and selling the farm for
windfall profit is one way of doing this – but who also have a commitment to farming as
a way of life and of social value – that is, institutional value. As the case study shows,
farmers hold both options open, and at one and the same time want government to
prevent the conversion of farmland to non-farm uses, but strongly believe they have the
right to sell their land to whomever they please. Holding such polar positions is not
irrational and provides the ability to accommodate structural and institutional, and
public interest and private interest, opinions. This poses challenges to wider community
values – what is the value of a sustainable agriculture to the urban-rural region, and how
can the decision making dilemma facing farmers be addressed?
270
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274
Identifying farming styles in Australian
19 viticulture
Luciano Mesiti and Frank Vanclay
Abstract
Farming styles theory is an appreciation of the socio-cultural diversity of farmers. It

suggests that farming practice is socially constructed and represents the physical
embodiment of (sub)cultural behaviour that is transmitted and reproduced through
social groups. Van der Ploeg (1993: 241) describes farming styles as a “cultural
repertoire, a composite of normative and strategic ideas about how farming should be
done”. Farming styles methodology is a multistage process involving quantitative and
qualitative methods The initial stage of the methodology involves conducting focus
groups to identify the types of farming styles that exist. The second stage of the process
involves classification of farmers into those identified styles utilising a structured
questionnaire including open and closed questions. Research to identify and test
farming styles in Australian viticulture was undertaken using focus group and
questionnaire interviews with grape growers of the Sunraysia region of Victoria and
NSW.
Introduction
Farming tends to be perceived as a technical process in which desirable change means

improving and optimising what physically exists, for example, increasing plant
production and improving the efficiency of machines. Thus, adoption of new
technology is deemed to be important, and the stage of innovation forms the basis of
traditional classifications of farmers into adopter or innovator categories. However, in
terms of understanding the diversity within agriculture, it is more important to view
farming as a social process with socio-cultural, agronomic, and environmental
components. Farmers’ worldviews, ideas, vision as well as their knowledge and
experience determine farm management practices. Appreciation of this is vital to the
understanding of the motivations farmers hold in their decision to adopt new
technology. This understanding is also essential in attempting to improve extension
programs and their relevance.
The concept of farming styles is one of many theoretical perspectives that maybe useful
to extension science, and is most relevant in understanding social diversity. Differences
in management practice are expressed by
275
differences in farming styles amongst farmers (van der Ploeg, 1993; van der Ploeg &
Long, 1994; Vanclay & Lawrence, 1995). By developing an appreciation of the types of
farmers that exist, an understanding of the possible different management strategies can
be determined. One long-term benefit of this understanding is the ability to target better
extension programs to each farming style.
What are farming styles?
Farming styles theory was originally developed by Jan Douwe van der Ploeg at
Wageningen Agricultural University in The Netherlands. Van der Ploeg developed the
farming styles concept by arguing that farming styles exist in terms of market
orientation. He conducted research with dairy farmers in Emilia Romagna (Italy) and
potato farmers of the Peruvian Highlands. Further research was conducted by Cees
Leeuwis (1993) who developed a methodology to analyse farming styles, which has
been adapted in this research.
The concept of farming styles assumes that farmers develop different ways of going
about the production and management of their farms. “The essential feature of the
concept of farming styles is that different groups of farmers have different notions about
the most appropriate way to farm in order to fulfil their objectives” (Vanclay &
Lawrence, 1994: 70). “Farming styles refers to a cultural repertoire, a composite of
normative and strategic ideas about how farming should be done ... Therefore a style of
farming is a concrete form of praxis, a particular unity of thinking and doing, of theory
and practice” (van der Ploeg, 1993: 241).
Farming styles theory also assumes that farmers are rational (at least not irrational)
about their farm management decisions, which are based upon their own knowledge and
experience. Farmers are seen as having developed “their own conceptual basis about
how their farm ought to be managed” (Vanclay & Lawrence, 1995: 148). So it is this
conceptual base that creates the farming style of each individual farmer.
Overall, farming styles analysis provides the opportunity to understand the diversity and
heterogeneity that exists in agriculture. Farmers use different processes, beliefs and
values to make decisions about farm management. This reveals that decisions are not
solely based on technical needs, but a combination of social and cultural factors that
demonstrates that farming practice is socially constructed. It is the linking of these
different processes and beliefs that create groupings of farmers into similar farming
styles.
276
Farming styles methodology
Stage 1: focus group discussions
Seven focus group discussions were conducted during 1996, with each group attended
by about seven participants. Groups mainly consisted of grape growers; although one
was with extension staff and another was the regional rural counselling group. Three of
the focus groups were with women only.
The focus groups were partly facilitated using a card technique, with participants
writing their responses on individual cards. Participants were asked to:
1. Describe yourself as a grower. (one card only)
2. How do you differ from other grape growers in this area? (one card only)
3. Identify and describe all the types of growers that exist in this area. (one type per
card)
Responses to questions one and two were recorded by the participants on a small card
and collected before proceeding to the next question. These first questions allowed
growers to think broadly about farming and about other growers. For question three,
participants were asked to put each description on a new card. A theme-ing process was
then utilised to group and theme the responses of all participants to question three. The
overall result was then examined and participants were questioned about:
a) whether the final groups were complete, that is comprised all the types of farmers
now that they had got more used to the idea of the exercise;
b) whether each participant could identify themselves as belonging to one of the groups;
and
c) whether each participant could identify which group their neighbours and friends
belonged to.
Outcome from focus groups: identification of six styles
Six main styles were identified from the focus groups.
Traditional grower
The farming style category that was dominant in all focus group session discussions
was that of the traditional grower. Traditional growers seem to fit into two main types:
(1) ethnic growers (those born in another country) and (2) growers who have been
farming for many years in district and who are perceived as not having changed their
crop management strategies very much from what they did in the past. Traditional
growers were also described as being non-efficient users of chemicals and water. They
tended not to source information from the Department of Agriculture, but relied on their
own skill and experience.
277
Conventional grower
Conventional growers were described as being similar to traditional growers in that they
are conservative in their approach to changing farm practices. Yet they seem to have the
ability to plan ahead and are willing to consider alternative management options.
However, they seem to lack the financial support to invest in improvements and so are
not likely to take financial risks. However, conventional growers tend to have improved
production technology such as newer irrigation and trellising systems. Another main
difference between these growers and the traditional ones is in access to information.
Conventional growers rely on and expect information from the Department of
Agriculture. It was highlighted in the discussions that they seem to use “spray diaries”
(booklets provided to growers by wineries and industry organisations to record
chemical use) and accessed the Agriculture Victoria “Horticultural Hotline” service (a
recorded message service providing up-to-date information about vineyard management
such as control of certain pests and diseases).
Innovative grower
This category of grower was described by growers not in this group as “spend a
fortune”, meaning that they were highly capital intensive, often with a high debt load,
and quite likely to spend money on new often untried ideas when other growers would
have been more cautious. Innovative growers were characterised as being willing to
accept new technology, are technologically advanced and willing to adopt new
practices. It was also said they are progressive in their approach in that they seek out
information from a wide variety of sources, are up to date with current research and
production ideas. Most of these growers are industry leaders, and are proactive in the
industry organisations. They are not afraid to borrow heavily on new technology and
take the risks associated with this investment. Participants in the focus groups also
described them as ‘make or break’, and ‘boom or bust’ growers.
Labour efficient grower

The growers in this category were described as managing their vineyard in such a way
so as to minimise the need for external labour. Thus, they increasingly used mechanical
technology on farm and utilised modern/advanced trellis systems which facilitated
mechanical pruning and harvesting. The majority of growers in this category
predominantly grow wine grapes, rather than dried vine fruit or table grapes, due to the
greater ability to use mechanical technology. Growers in this group are adopters of new
technology such as improved trellis design, harvesting and so on, but rarely innovators
and do not take large risks. They usually have a high mortgage. The reasons for
adopting this style relate to concern about the availability, reliability and efficiency of
labour and also their need to manage their time efficiently, often because of off-farm
work or other activities being carried out which limit the time the growers themselves
have.
278
Collins Street grower

The primary identification of this category was large vineyard with an absentee owner
with seemingly unlimited capital who may not be so concerned about short term returns
although viticulture is seen for its long term investment potential. These vineyards are
operated by managers and management styles on these farms are quite different from
other farms. They are adopters of new technology but not excessive risk takers.
Lifestyle grower
These growers were described as having the vineyard as a second income, or were
retired. Their off-farm employment is the main source of income and they have a
vineyard because of the perceived lifestyle benefits. Thus, farming is a part time
activity, performed after work or on weekends, or in the case of those who are retired to
the block, performed without the appropriate level of professional attention. In this
style, most of the growers are on small blocks, often left to them by family, and in some
cases these are not viable to have grape growing as the main income. Focus group
participants identified two types of growers in this category: those who were described
as responsible part time farm managers, and those who were seen as careless in their
management attitude and/or lazy. Responsible managers were seen as doing the right
thing and have been farming for many years. They don’t have the money to implement
new strategies, but know what is expected of them by the industry and they achieve
positive results even though they are not on the farm full time. The careless growers are
seen as those that ‘go with the flow’, are happy with the lifestyle and are seen to lack
direction in their management strategies. They tend to neglect their duties on farm, and
don’t attend to the production needs, such as chemical spraying, and irrigation
monitoring. Many of these vineyards are perceived to be rundown and non-viable.
These growers were viewed as generally not able to produce a very good crop and were
considered to place neighbouring crops at risk to pests and diseases.
Stage 2: farming styles questionnaire
The results of the focus group discussions were used to construct the next phase of the
farming styles research. Whereas the focus groups provided an identification of styles,
the questionnaire allowed for testing and validating that the identified styles actually
existed and that the theory is useful. The questionnaire was conducted in collaboration
with a research project of Agriculture Victoria and the Dried Fruits Research and
Development Council, the main focus of which was to investigate pest and disease
management in dried vine fruit production and the adoption of Integrated Pest
Management (IPM) techniques. The questionnaire contained broad questions about
plant production, pest and disease management, information needs and sources,
combined with questions about farming life and farming styles.
279
Grower participants were randomly selected from a list of dried fruit growers in the
Sunraysia, which was provided by the Australian Dried Fruits Association. The
questionnaire was completed by interviewers meeting with each grower individually,
usually at the farm. Some 142 growers were interviewed with each interview taking
approximately one hour. Data analysis was conducted using the Statistical Package for
the Social Sciences (SPSS).
The descriptions of the styles gained from the focus groups were used to create what are
called ‘portraits’, that is a description of each style written in the first person from the
perspective of a farmer in that style. Each portrait was printed on a laminated card
without its style ‘label’ or heading. Farmers were given the option of reading the cards
themselves, or having them read by the interviewer. The cards contained the logos of
the sponsoring organisations, the Cooperative Research Centre for Viticulture, the Dried
Fruits R&D Council, and Agriculture Victoria.
Traditional grower
I have been growing grapes for a long time. I don’t really see any reason to change from
the methods I have been using. Some other growers may think that I am a bit old
fashioned, but this doesn’t worry me. I enjoy what I am doing and these methods have
worked well for me in the past. I don’t owe much on the vineyard and I would not want
to go into debt to change what I do. I do get information about new methods, but I
prefer to trust my own experience. I talk about grape growing with other growers like
me. Grape growing is a skill. Modern, mechanised techniques just don’t seem to be the
right thing to use with grapes.
Conventional grower
I like owning a vineyard. I don’t like borrowing money or taking big risks, but I see
other growers trying out new things and I sometimes wonder if I am doing everything I
should. I like to plan ahead, and I try to do the right thing, the same as most other
growers around here. I tend to use the Department of Agriculture when I need
information and I use their Spray Diary and Horticulture Hotline.
Innovative grower
I am one of the more progressive growers around here. I am up to date with the latest
and best technology. I have been planting the newer vine clonal varieties and installing
new trellis and irrigation systems. I seek information from a wide variety of sources and
I am heavily involved in the industry. I believe that it is important to borrow in order to
finance new developments to maintain efficiency.
280
Labour efficient grower

The most important goal in the way I manage the vineyard and organise things is to use
my time efficiently and reduce the need for paid labour on the block. This is because
labour is too unreliable, too expensive and there is often a shortage when you need it. It
is also because I do other things and I don’t want to be tied to the vineyard all the time.
I choose the trellis, pruning and harvesting and irrigation systems that are most labour
efficient.
Collins Street grower

I would describe myself as a professional grape grower. Running a vineyard must be
seen as a business, and a complex business at that. I manage a successful vineyard that
requires a high level of financial investment. I believe the most effective vineyards are
those that are run by growers who have a high level of education and have done many
relevant courses.
Lifestyle grower
Owning a vineyard is a type of hobby for me. My main income comes from other
employment, with the vineyard being a lifestyle preference. I couldn’t make a living
from the vineyard as I have a small block and I don’t have the money to implement
changes. I don’t do much to the vines as there is not enough time in the day to get things
done. However, I have always wanted to own a vineyard and I get a lot of satisfaction
from it.
The six portraits was presented to respondents on cards, one at a time, and growers were
asked to read the portrait and answer the question: “How much are you like the
description on this card?”. The four possible responses were: (1) a lot like me; (2) a fair
bit like me; (3) only a little like me; and (4) not at all like me. After all the cards had
been read, growers were then asked which of the cards did they feel was most like them.
Finally, they were asked how well all the cards together described all the growers they
knew, and if they could suggest any other styles that were not included in the portraits
given.
To cross-validate the styles, 32 attitude items were asked using a five point Likert scale
(strongly agree to strongly disagree). The attitude bank contained statements relating to
concepts derived from the focus groups. Example statements include:
• I rely on my own knowledge and experience to make farm decisions. (Traditional)
• I have been growing vines for a long time and there is not much that I don’t know
about when it comes to growing grapes. (Traditional)
• This might not be the best vineyard around but there is no reason to change
(Traditional)
281
• I find I get more information by talking to other growers than from anywhere else.
(Traditional, Conventional)
• I feel there is a shortage of reliable labour when you need it. (Labour Efficient)
• The less labour I need to employ on the vineyard the better. (Labour Efficient)
• To manage my vineyard effectively, I need a high level of education and professional
training. (Collins Street)
• Family vineyards aren’t viable anymore, you need the backing of a large company.
(Collins Street)
• I am not afraid to borrow heavily to finance new technology. (Innovative)
• I believe that I am more innovative than other growers and using the latest and best
technology is important to me. (Innovative)
• Making money isn’t everything, there are other good things about growing grapes.
(Lifestyle, Traditional, Conventional)
• I have wanted to be a grapegrower all my life. (Lifestyle)
The analysis of this project forms the basis of PhD work being undertaken by Luciano
Mesiti. The intention is that the analysis will focus on:
1. Growers’ acceptance of the farming styles concept and willingness to nominate a
single style;
2. The consistency of the styles chosen as being ‘most like me’ with the ratings given
to each style on the ‘a lot like me’ to ‘not at all like me’ scale, and the clarity of the
styles as evidenced by strong identification with only one (or at most two) styles as
being ‘a lot like me’.
3. Whether the items in the attitude inventory relate in an expected fashion as
predicted by our understanding of the styles. This will be considered by: (1)
predicting which items should be associated with each style and confirming that the
agreement score and percentage agree/strongly agree is greatest for that style; (2)
undertaking a factor analysis of the attitude items and determining whether the
resultant factor structure resembles the styles; (3) undertaking a discriminant
analysis using the style variable (‘most like me’) as the dependent or classification
group variable, and using the attitude items as the independent or predictor
variables.
4. Using the other data collected in the survey, including the viticultural, and economic
data to see if there are significant meaningful differences between styles.
5. To gain a greater understanding of each style through the above analyses, and
through examining questions about access to information, and sources of
information, to be able to provide advice to the funding agencies and the
Cooperative Research Centre for Viticulture that will assist in the targeting of
extension about sustainable viticulture.
The primary purpose of this paper is to introduce the farming styles concept and to
explain one methodology for researching farming styles using viticulture as an example.
The preliminary analysis undertaken, presented below, provides data addressing the first
two of the intended analytical investigations described above. Another PhD student,
Peter Howden, is undertaking other work with farming styles in broadacre cropping and
is
282
using in-depth interviews with a number of case study farmers in each of the styles
identified in that study (Howden et al., 1997; Vanclay & Howden, 1997).
Results so far
At this point in time (mid 1997), the work is in the early stages of analysis. The focus
groups have been undertaken, and the questionnaire administered to 142 grape growers
in the Sunraysia area of Victoria. The data collected has been entered on computer, and
preliminary results have been extracted.
The focus groups established that growers related well to the concept of farming styles.
This was further confirmed by the questionnaire survey. A high 87 percent of growers
said that the style descriptions were either a good or very good description of the
growers they knew. However, about 19 growers said that there should be an additional
style called ‘lazy grower’. This label was mentioned in the focus group discussions, but
it was unable to be elaborated on in terms of a coherent and consistent style, other than
a value judgement being applied by some growers to other growers who had different
priorities.
Almost all growers were happy to select a portrait as being most like them (Table 1).
However four growers refused to select only one style as most like them and selected a
range of combinations of styles. The portrait we describe as ‘conventional grower’ was
the largest grouping containing about 30 percent of growers in the Sunraysia district.
However, for such as a smallish sample, n=142, the 95 percent confidence interval for
this figure is quite wide, from 22 percent to 38 percent.
Table 1: Identification of farming style through the portrait

‘most like’ each grower
Viticultural style percent
Conventional 30
Labour Efficient 22
Innovative 17
Traditional 15
Lifestyle 7
Collins Street 6
more than one style given 3
Total 100
(n=142)
283
While most growers could select one style as most like them, the non mutually
exclusive nature of the styles was apparent because a number of growers (21%) selected
several styles as being ‘a lot like them’ (Table 2). Further limitations with the styles, or
at least the portraits, were revealed because many growers (42%), although they were
able to select one style as being most like them, were unable to select any that were a lot
like them.
Table 2: Non-mutual exclusivity of the styles
Number of styles selected percent

as ‘a lot like me’
No style selected 42
One style 35
Two styles 14
Three styles 7
Four styles 1
Total 100
(n=142)
Comparing the number of styles selected as ‘a lot like me’ with the style selected as
‘most like me’ (Table 3), shows that of all the styles, the Lifestyle and Conventional
Grower portraits had the highest mutual exclusivity ratings, with 50 percent and 42
percent of growers respectively in each style selecting this and only this style as being a
lot like them. The style with the lowest mutual exclusivity rating was Labour Efficient
Grower with only 26 percent of growers who nominated this style as the style most like
them, rating this and only this style as a lot like them.
There are reasons that might explain why growers would not select one and only one
style as being a lot like them and/or why they might avoid describing themselves as
being a lot like a certain style. While we did our best in the word-crafting of the
portraits, it is clear that there is enormous social desirability attached to the different
meanings growers bestow upon the portraits and the styles the portraits represent. The
language to describe the styles that was used by growers in the focus groups was
overwhelmingly pejorative and dismissive of the validity of styles other than the
grower’s own. The power of scientific agriculture and extension to permeate farmers’
discourse has been noted, and this has meant that farmers have appreciated the social
meaning attached to the styles by ‘reading between the lines’ of the portraits. In the
focus groups, some growers claimed to be innovative, but afterwards admitted privately
that perhaps they were really conventional, or perhaps traditional. Further, during the
course of questionnaire interviewing, some growers who would be regarded as
ambiguously innovative by an outside observer, considered themselves to be
conventional, especially in relation to other growers in their own style.
284
Table 3: Consistency in growers’ selections of ‘most like me’

and the number of styles selected that are
‘a lot like me’
Style selected as ‘Most like me’ (single choice only)

(column percentages) (total n=142)
Number of Tradit- Convent- Innovati Labour Collins Lifestyle More

styles selected ional ional ve Efficient Street (n=10) than one
as being ‘a lot (n=21) (n=43) (n=24) (n=31) (n=9) style
like me’ (n=4)
0 styles 33 46 42 48 3 cases 2 cases 3 cases

(n=60)
1 style 38 42 33 26 3 cases 5 cases –

(n=50)
2 styles 10 12 21 16 1 case 2 cases –

(n=20)
3 styles 19 – 4 3 2 cases 1 case 1 case

(n=10)
4 styles – – – 6 – – –
(n=2)
A major conceptual issue in the farming styles conceptualisation, relates to whether the
farming styles are real entities that farmers easily relate to and explain individual and
collective farmer behaviour, or whether they are ideal types that exist as heuristic
images which farmers use to construct their own notion of good farm management
(Vanclay, 1997), largely by rejecting undesirable aspects associated with most of the
styles. In this way, the range of styles serves as a repertoire of information to assist
farmers in their ideas about farming management. If this were the case, it would explain
why the images of styles would be strongly held and accepted, but why farmers
individually would find it hard to strongly associate with a single style. The selection of
a style by a farmer also requires an understanding of the whole range of styles. If
farmers’ awareness of their social reality is limited by a style, the reference point
becomes the particular style, rather all styles. This explains why innovative growers
may see themselves as conventional.
At a more practical level, some styles do have concepts in common, and if farmers
could not relate to the style as a whole as represented in the portrait, they might respond
excessively literally to the information
285
contained in each portrait. To gain some sense of the extent that this might be
happening, it is worth examining which are the styles that are seen as being similar by
the farmers that nominated more than one style as being a lot like them (Table 4).
Table 4: Growers’ selections of ‘most like me’ and their

selections of styles that are ‘a lot like me’
Style selected as ‘Most like me’ (single choice only)

(cells contain the number of cases) (total n=142)
Styles selected as
‘A lot like me’ Tradit- Convent- Innovat- Labour Collins Lifestyle More
(multiple ional ional ive Efficient Street (n=10) than 1
responses) (n=21) (n=43) (n=24) (n=31) (n=9) style
(n=4)
Traditional 14 1 0 2 1 1 0
(n=19) (67%)
Conventional 6 22 0 5 1 2 0
(n=36) (51%)
Innovative 1 1 13 3 2 0 1
(n=21) (54%)
Labour Efficient 3 2 4 15 2 1 1
(n=28) (48%)
Collins Street 0 2 4 3 5 0 1
(n=15) (56%)
Lifestyle 0 0 0 1 0 8 0
(n=9) (80%)
Total of ‘a lot 24 28 21 29 11 12 3
like me’ (n=128)
(n=128)
Table 4 shows that there was little consistency in the selection of styles when growers
did suggest that more than one style was a lot like them. This suggests that the disparity
is more due to differences in interpretation of the images of the portraits and the
vagaries of the styles themselves, rather than being physical relationships linking styles.
Conclusion
Through analysis of focus group discussions and the preliminary results of the
questionnaire, it can be seen that farming styles do exist in viticulture, and that the vast
majority of growers related to the concept. However, it is not clear whether growers
consciously identify with a particular style, although most growers when pressed where
able to select a style most like them. It is likely that the styles are heuristic ideal types
which are used by
286
farmers in their interpretation of farming practice, rather than empirical entities that
explain precisely what farmers actually do and what they think. Nevertheless, the
existence of a socially constructed diversity in agriculture has been established. There
remains a methodological problem relating to the best way to explain the nature of a
style in a form that is universally and unambiguously understood. It is clear that some
portraits used in this research may not have done justice to the styles for all of the
growers interviewed.
Further analysis of the data will reveal much more about the usefulness of the farming
styles theory and its applications. One way this will be possible is by analysing a range
of factors related to sustainable viticulture and how they vary by viticultural style, and
how this can be used to improve extension to growers, especially in the promotion of
sustainable viticulture. For example, the type of information sources used, the different
pest and disease management strategies, relationship to extension agencies, attitude to
risk, and response to environmental issues, are just some of the factors that are being
considered in the larger research project. In terms of targeting extension activities, this
would be a way towards improving current viticultural programs and developing further
approaches towards identifying growers’ own local ways of solving problems. It is also
a way of understanding the growers’ own appreciation of their decision making
(adoption) process, and of understanding growers’ rationales and worldviews.
It is clear that growers make management decisions about their farm based on what they
believe to be most appropriate, and that many decisions made are based on the local
knowledge of their farms and their neighbours. Ultimately, it is hoped that utilising a
farming styles approach will assist in making research better targeted to the needs of
growers, and will improve the means of communicating with the specifically identified
locally-based groupings of growers.
Acknowledgments
Professor Brian Freeman for his assistance, guidance and advice. Alison MacGregor
and Anthony Callipari of Agriculture Victoria at the Sunraysia Horticultural Centre in
Mildura for all their assistance and support in the development of the questionnaire and
conducting of interviews.
287
References
Howden, P., Vanclay, F., Lemerle, D. & Kent, J. 1997. ‘Understanding farming styles’
In Proceedings of the 2nd Australasia Pacific Extension Conference: Managing
Change - Building Knowledge and Skills, Conference Proceedings Vol 2, 269-276.
Leeuwis, C. 1993. Of Computers. Myths and Modelling: The Social Construction of

Diversity, Knowledge, Information, and Communication Technologies in Dutch
Horticulture and Agricultural Extension. PhD thesis, Department of Communication
and Innovation Studies, Wageningen Agricultural University.
Mesiti, L. & Vanclay, F. 1996. ‘Farming styles amongst grapegrowers of the Sunraysia
district’. In Lawrence, G., Lyons, K. and Momtaz, S., (eds) Social Change in Rural
Australia. Rockhampton: Central Queensland University: 55-63.
Ploeg, J.D. van der 1993. ‘Rural sociology and the new agrarian question: A perspective
from the Netherlands’, Sociologia Ruralis 33(2): 240-260.
Ploeg, J.D. van der; and Long, A. (eds) 1994. Born From Within: Practice and
Perspective of Endogenous Rural Development. Assen, The Netherlands: Van
Gorcum.
Vanclay, F. 1992. ‘The social context of farmers’ adoption of environmentally sound

farming practices’. in Lawrence, G., Vanclay, F. and Furze, B. (eds), Agriculture,
Environment and Society. Melbourne: Macmillan.
Vanclay, F. 1997. ‘The social basis of environmental management in agriculture’. in

Lockie, S. and Vanclay, F. (eds), Critical Landcare. Wagga Wagga: Centre for Rural
Social Research, Charles Sturt University.
Vanclay, F. & Howden, P. 1997. ‘Working with the grain: farming styles amongst
Australian broad-acre croppers’ Paper presented to the XVII Congress of the
European Society for Rural Sociology, Chania, Greece. (available by request from the
authors)
Vanclay, F. & Lawrence, G. 1994. ‘Farmer rationality and the adoption of

environmentally sound practices: a critique of the assumptions of traditional
agricultural extension’. European Journal of Agricultural Education and Extension
1(1): 59-90.
Vanclay, F. & Lawrence, G. 1995. The Environmental Imperative: Eco-Social Concerns

for Australian Agriculture. Rockhampton: Central Queensland University Press.
288
The Centre for Rural Social Research is one of four accredited research centres
supported by Charles Sturt University. The Centre for Rural Social Research exists to
conduct applied interdisciplinary social research which has the potential to benefit rural
Australia. The specific objectives of the Centre are to:
• conduct research into the social conditions of rural Australians;
• develop social strategies which enhance sustainable development within the Murray-
Darling Basin;
• analyse rural social policy;
• provide consultancy services;
• act as a resource for rural health and welfare practitioners;
• facilitate the publication and dissemination of rural social research;
• engage in other activities which help to fulfil the above mentioned objectives.
The centre has four main research foci:
Rural Social Conditions. The Centre monitors rural social change, including the
social structure of agriculture and quality of life and social well-being in country towns.
Research methods include social impact assessment, survey analysis, community
analysis and action research. An understanding of the history of rural areas, and the
nature of rural social life are included.
Rural Social Policy and Human Service Delivery. The Centre evaluates the
delivery of health, welfare and other social services, including education, justice and
housing to rural Australia, and analyses and evaluates existing and proposed policies
and programs relating to service delivery. A special concern is ‘at risk’ groups within
the rural community, such as some groups of: Aborigines, people with disabilities,
people from non-English speaking backgrounds, women, elderly and youth.
289
Communications, Technology and Community Development. The Centre

conducts research into issues affecting rural communities and community development
especially in relation to the effects of communication and information technology. The
Centre seeks to assist rural community development through education programs,
enhancing public participation, consultative processes and extension activities, and
through research to improve community development practices. The CRSR seeks to
apply research to assist in rural community development in Australia and in developing
countries.
Social Aspects of Agriculture, Environment and Sustainability. The CRSR

conducts research into the social bases of environmental management, especially in
agriculture, with specific reference to the Murray-Darling Basin.
The Centre publishes a number of publications including:

• Rural Society, a quarterly journal of rural social issues;
• a monograph series with volumes on Rural Women, Family Farming, Rural
Education Issues, Communication and Culture in Rural Areas, and Critical
Landcare;
• an occasional paper series, a technical reports series, and a conference proceedings
series;
• as well as papers in scientific journals and academic books;
• a major Web Site containing information, resources, and links to useful sites.
http://www.csu.edu.au/research/crsr/
The Centre has over 40 members covering a wide range of disciplines and skills.
290
Australian Association for Social Research
The Australian Association for Social Research is a professional association dedicated to the
advancement of good social research. AASR was spawned by the Australian Consortium for
Social and Political Research Inc (ACSPRI) at the 3rd National Social Research Conference
which was held in 1992. ACSPRI, as a consortium of research bodies, primarily universities,
was not established to be a professional association of individual researchers, and therefore
following demonstrated demand for such a professional association, AASR was founded. The
underpinning view of AASR is that methodological and substantive research problems do not
respect disciplinary boundaries. The real issues are typically multidisciplinary. As a result, the
most promising research contributions come from critical borrowing and constructive use of
ideas, information and techniques from a variety of traditional disciplines. The desire to take
this basic orientation seriously is the mainspring for the foundation of AASR. The central aim
of the Association is to advance the conduct, development and application of social research. To
this end, AASR aims to:
• provide a forum for discussion and communication about social research activity among
those involved in social science research;
• foster ties and cooperation between social researchers in academic, government and
commercial organisations;
• form relationships with other bodies that advance the aims of the Association;
• encourage the development of social research methods and their use for both pure and
applied social research;
• promote standards of work and codes of practice.
The primary intention of AASR is to be a valuable resource to its members – to disseminate

information, to inform, and to provide a network for professional development. It does this
through the following mechanisms:
• The Australian Journal of Social Research is a refereed interdisciplinary journal providing
a forum for high quality articles on new advances in methodology as well as case study
applications of research methods. Critical book reviews are also provided.
• The In Touch Newsletter provides members with news and information about the
association and its activities, as well as items of interest, such as conferences, new software
etc.
• The AASR Web Site exists partly for publicity purposes, but also to provide a record of the
activities of the Association. The Web Site also contains current and past copies of the
Newsletter, contents listings for the journal, and it is intended that it will provide abstracts of
papers published in the journal. The Web Site lists current news, as well as maintaining
comprehensive links to sites of interest to AASR members.
• The AASR Listserver was established to provide for rapid transfer of valuable information
to members, as well as to provide a forum for discussion of methodology and social research
issues.
• AASR Conferences are held regularly around Australia with the intention of providing a
forum for the exchange of ideas and social research techniques.
291
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Sustainability and

Proceedings of the 1997 Conference of

All rights reserved.

First published 1997 by

Printed by Active Print, Wagga Wagga

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-publication data

Australian Association for Social Research. Conference

ISBN 1 86467 017 7

1. Social sciences – Research – Australia – Congresses.

1 From hand to mouth:

Part 1: Sustaining Communities

2 Joys and sorrows of outrageous fortune:

4 The ‘ethnic experience’ and social research 43

5 A cross-national exploration into the content and construct

6 Sustaining the needs of spinal injured persons

7 Sustaining tolerance or homophobia?

8 Post-modern values, dissatisfaction with conventional medicine

9 Law enforcement in rural New South Wales:

10 Community justice: sustaining the community 141

11 The survey-embedded experimental design:

12 The myth of media objectivity:

Part 3: Agriculture and Social Sustainability

13 ‘Country’ stories: oral history and sustainability research 183

15 Place and sustainability:

16 Sustainable environments and architecture:

17 Making the most of misclassification:

18 The social sustainability of agriculture in the urban-rural region:

19 Identifying farming styles in Australian viticulture 275

Centre for Rural Social Research 289

Jim Crosthwaite is currently a Research Fellow with the Department of Agriculture

Damian Lucas is a researcher at the University of Technology, Sydney working

Neil MacLeod is a Senior Research Scientist at CSIRO Tropical Agriculture, St Lucia

Bill Malcolm is Associate Professor, Department of Agriculture and Resource

Geoff McDonald is Professor of Geography at the University of Queensland and has

Luciano Mesiti is a graduate of the University of Western Sydney –Hawkesbury, and is

Susan Moore is a lecturer in environmental policy at Murdoch University. Her research

Ron Neumann lectures in natural resource management and environmental dispute

Roy Rickson is a Reader in Sociology in the Australian School of Environmental

Ruth Webber is an Associate Professor of Sociology at Australian Catholic University,

Gabriele Winter is a lecturer in sociology in the School of Humanities and Social

While sustainability is a concept in a number of disciplines, it was the merging of the

The Australian Association for Social Research is a professional association dedicated

The production of conference proceedings is not meant to be a memento of the

From hand to mouth:

1 the fluctuating fortunes of social scientists in

The ‘highs’ and ‘lows’

Our own culture

Unfortunately here again is another parallel. Attendance by ARCWIS staff (including

The culture of natural resource planning and management

What can we add to ‘common sense’?

Our limited ability to gain, rather than understand, power

If such a situation is seen as a problem by the social science community, it obviously

The role of independent observer/critic or evaluator is a common and valuable one

Where to from here?

assertive enough to be leaders in the sustainability debate. For example, it is painfully

Finally, it is painfully evident that ‘social science’ consists of a number of disciplines

I regard the adoption of these tactics as important, so I finish on a note of urgency.

Elias, N. 1982. ‘Scientific establishments’ In N. Elias, H. Martins and R. Whitley (eds).

Etzioni, A. 1976. Social Problems. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall.

Joys and sorrows of outrageous fortune:

2 or the challenges and perils of conducting

Community relations research

Respondents were asked to comment on the nature of the inter-community relations