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Mediating everyday multiculturalism : performativity and precarious inclusion in Australian digital storytelling Trimboli, Daniella 2016

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	MEDIATING	EVERYDAY	MULTICULTURALISM:		PERFORMATIVITY	AND	PRECARIOUS	INCLUSION	IN	AUSTRALIAN	DIGITAL	STORYTELLING		by		Daniella	Trimboli						A	THESIS	SUBMITTED	IN	PARTIAL	FULFILLMENT	OF	THE	REQUIREMENTS	FOR	THE	DEGREE	OF	DOCTOR	OF	PHILOSOPHY		in		The	Faculty	of	Graduate	and	Postdoctoral	Studies	(English)						THE	UNIVERSITY	OF	BRITISH	COLUMBIA	(Vancouver)		January	2016	        © Daniella Trimboli, 2016	  	 ii 	  Mediating Everyday Multicultural ism: Performativity and Precarious Inclusion in Australian Digital Storytelling			Daniella	Trimboli									June 2015 Submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements of the degree of Doctor of Philosophy under a jointly-awarded PhD program with The University of Melbourne and The University of British Columbia (with UBC coursework component) School of Culture and Communication, University of Melbourne Department of English, University of British Columbia  Produced on archival quality paper 	 iii ABSTRACT  This dissertation examines the intersection of everyday multiculturalism and digital storytelling in Australia. Using Judith Butler’s theory of performativity amongst others, the dissertation addresses the question: what are the ways in which Australian digital storytelling projects engage with concepts of “cultural diversity” to create complex and resistant material possibilities for “ethnic Australians”? Digital stories have become a popular tool in community-based arts projects, representative of an overall turn to the everyday in Australian contemporary arts practice. The growing popularity of everyday experiences in art is paralleled by the growing scholarship of everyday multiculturalism; a new field of study that explores the lived experiences of multicultural encounters in Australia. Digital stories thus form a social technology at the intersection of key movements in cultural studies. The dissertation analyses ACMI’s digital storytelling programme alongside Big hART’s Junk Theory to consider how ethnic bodies are constructed and mobilised in everyday Australian life in relation to the performative force of normative whiteness. It then moves to consider the capacity for digital storytelling to accommodate slippages in the performative chain. The new media practices of Curious Works are used to illustrate how the discursive force of whiteness can be disrupted via digital storytelling, making way for a reconstitution of a more complex “ethnic” body in everyday life.   	  iv PREFACE  This is to certify that i. the thesis comprises only my original work towards the Ph.D. except where indicated in the Preface, ii. due acknowledgement has been made in the text to all other material used, iii. the thesis is less than 100,000 words in length, exclusive of tables, maps, bibliographies and appendices.  Signed   This research involved interviews. This empirical research component was undertaken in Australia only and was approved by the Human Research Ethics Committee (HREC) at the University of Melbourne. Ethics ID no. 1136591.1.   This dissertation is formatted in accordance with the regulations of the University of Melbourne and submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for a PhD degree awarded jointly by the University of Melbourne and the University of British Columbia. Versions of this dissertation will exist in the institutional repositories of both institutions. 	  v 	ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS  Foremost, my sincere thanks to my supervisors Professor Sneja Gunew and Associate Professor Chris Healy for helping me to transform my research ideas into a cohesive project. I am grateful for your comprehensive feedback, attention to detail, and timely advice. I also extend thanks to my associate supervisor Professor Nikos Papastergiadis for his considered support, theoretical questions, and for helping me to see the bigger scholarly picture.   My thanks to the artists, filmmakers, digital storytelling participants, and art practitioners who allowed me to interview them and who consequently added richness to this research and helped me refine its scope. A special thank you to organisations Australian Centre for the Moving Image, Big hART, and Curious Works, and art practitioners Michelle Kotevski and Helen Simondson for their assistance with my project and their commitment to the production of community-based art. Thank you to Associate Professor Fran Martin, Professor Charlotte Townsend-Gault, and Professor Bruce Baum for offering feedback on various iterations of my academic work. I also thank my Flinders University mentors, Dr Shannon Dowling and Associate Professor Kate Douglas, for encouraging me to pursue this project and for the ongoing inspiration. Louise Soga at UBC—I am indebted to you for your dedication to the postgraduate community and for your assistance in administering the U21 programme. Special thanks to Tia Di Biase at Swinburne University and the rest of the PhD WSG for being excellent comrades and sounding boards. I wish to express my immense gratitude to the team of Melbourne-based doctors and health specialists who have helped me manage a chronic illness since 2011. Your expertise has been crucial in the completion of this project.  I could not have navigated the Ph.D. journey without the unwavering love and reassurance from my family: my dear siblings Domenic, Courtney, Tony, and Zarah; Peter Wilkin and Joanna Creed; Bill and Jean Abel; and the Stanaway family (especially you, Mama C). The same can be said for my belli amici, notably Chloe Goodyear, Justin Taylor, Kylie Maslen, the Yorkes mob, and my huge-hearted “Brunswick Family”. Finally, I thank my wonderful partner, Ry Wilkin. This convoluted journey has been enriched by your tireless support (even when oceans apart), your sharp wit, and, of course, all of your beautiful art work.    	  vi The following statement was written for the occasion of my Ph.D. oral examination, held on the 23 October 2015. Unfortunately, I was unable to write it in Calabrese, so I hope it translates okay for those members of my family it is intended for: Data la storia della mia famiglia, mi rendo conto che è abbastanza significativo essere in piedi qui oggi a discutere la mia tesi di dottorato, e vorrei fare una pausa per riconoscerne il senso. Durante il mio primo anno di università, in una giornata particolarmente difficile di studio, mio padre mi ha detto che se il mio Nonno poteva vedermi fare così bene all’università sarebbe incredibilmente orgoglioso econtento. Queste parole mi hanno reso orgoglioso e felice. Infatti, è stato il pensierio del mio caro Nonno, scomparso quando avevo diciotto anni, che tante volte mi ha aiutato a persistere con questa tesi. Molte volte nel corso degli ultimi quattro anni mi sono sentito completamente sopraffatto, un pese fuor d’acqua, incapace, il mio cuore avrebbe voluto correre ma la mia testa era troppo presa dalla preoccupazione di quello che sembrava a quel tempo un compito impossibile. In questi momenti vorrei sentire le parole del Nonno, che crescendo ho sentito molte volte, ripetute da mio padre: “Ehi, Daniella! Aspetta! Vai piano, piano! Piano, piano.” E quindi vorrei prendere un respiro profondo e procedere: piano, piano; piano, piano. E, infine, eccomi qui.  Ma voglio anche ringraziare un’altra persona importante che fa da ombra in questa ricerca, mia nonna, Caterina Trimboli, ex Caterina Virgara. Non ho mai conosciuto questa donna, lei è morta quando mio padre era piccolo. La riconosco in questo momento perché sono rattristato per il fatto che, nonostante i suoi molti sacrifici non ha mai avuto l’opportunità di vivere una vita lunga, per andare a scuola, o per dire a tutti i suoi figli le tante storie che deve avere vissuto. Di certo non ha potuto trascorrere quattro anni di lettura di libri in una libreria di un’università durante il giorno, e poi, bere birre in un pub all’università durante la notte. Mi piace pensare che in piccolo io rappresento qualcosa di lei in piedi qui oggi come una Trimboli donna, e io esprimo il mio profondo amore e gratitudine a lei e alla linea di coraggiose donne Trimboli che l’hanno seguita. Grazie.  	  vii   TABLE OF CONTENTS 	ABSTRACT .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  i i i  PREFACE .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  iv ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  v TABLE OF CONTENTS……………………………………………………………………………. vii  LIST OF FIGURES .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  vi i i  INTRODUCTION .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  1 CHAPTER ONE: Developing a Crit ical Framework for Everyday Multiculturalism in Austral ia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  15 CHAPTER TWO: Austral ian Digital  Storytel l ing as a Site of Everyday Multiculturalism .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  42 CHAPTER THREE: “Everyday Ethnicity” in ACMI’s Digital  Storytell ing Programme .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  81 CHAPTER FOUR: Harmonising Diverse Voices: Ethnic Performativity in Big hART’s Junk Theory  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  108 CHAPTER FIVE: Facing Up to the Nation: Affective Bodies in Austral ian Digital  Storytell ing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  130 CHAPTER SIX: Digital  Disruptions: Performative Slippages in Digital  Storytell ing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  165 CHAPTER SEVEN: The Cosmos in Everyday Multiculturalism: Curious Works’ Digital  Storytell ing Programme and The Chronicles of Liam’s Hair  191 CONCLUSION .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  216 REFERENCES .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  222 APPENDIX 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  243   	  viii LIST OF FIGURES 		Figure 1: Screenshot from New Life, New Country (2007), author’s image.....................  100 Figure 2: Screenshot from New Life, New Country (2007), author’s image………………… 100 Figure 3: Screenshot from New Life, New Country (2007), author’s image..................... 101 Figure 4: Screenshot from New Life, New Country (2007), author’s image..................... 101 Figures 5-10: Screenshots from Loving Lebanon and Australia (2007),  author’s image........................................................................................................................  102 Figure 11: Screenshot from Loving Lebanon and Australia (2007),  author’s image………………………………………………………………………………………………............ 103 Figures 12-15: Screenshots from Where Do I Belong? (2007), author’s images.……….. 150 Figure 16: Accompanying image for the article ‘Diverse faces harbour hope for harmony’, The Daily Telegraph, 1 January 2007, p. 12 ……………………………………………………………… 152 Figures 17-20: Screenshots from Ithal Damat = Imported Groom (2007) author’s images……………………………………………………………………………………………………..... 172 Figures 21 & 22: Screenshots from Loving Lebanon and Australia (2007) author’s images………………………………………………………………………………………………........... 174 Figure 23: Screenshot from The Spaces In Between (2007), author’s image……………….. 180 Figures 24-27: Screenshots from Adam’s digital story, The Shoemaker (2007),  author’s images ……………………………………………………………………………………………………….  185 Figures 28 & 29 (from L-R): Mania’s Shoes (2002), 940 x 680mm oil on canvas, image courtesy of Adam Nudelman; Diaspora (2002), 1000 x 1300mm oil on canvas, image courtesy of Adam Nudelman………………………………………………………………………………………………… 186 Figures 30-33: Screenshots from The Chronicles of Liam’s Hair (2010) author’s images……………………………………………………………………………………………………….. 200 Figures 34-39: Screenshots taken from ‘Khaled vs. Khaled’ (2014) author’s images……………………………………………………………………………………………………….. 210      Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  1 INTRODUCTION  R e s e a r c h  O v e r v i e w   This dissertation adds to scholarship on everyday multiculturalism from a cultural studies perspective. Everyday multiculturalism is a new field that explores cultural difference from a grass-roots, or “street” perspective. The field aims to address a perceived gap between the ways in which multiculturalism is understood at a governmental and theoretical level and how it is experienced in day-to-day life. Analysing the current formation of multiculturalism is pertinent for contemporary Australia, which, despite identifying as a multicultural nation since the 1970s, continues to grapple with its heterogeneous cultural constitution. The interdisciplinary analyses of everyday multiculturalism has enabled the tensions and nuances of cultural difference to be explored in a range of ways, however, because the field is relatively new, many areas require attention. One such area is that of racialised corporeality; in particular, how the terms of multiculturalism have shifted in subtle, but powerful ways, enabling the performativity of unchallenged whiteness to be perpetuated in the twenty-first century. The dissertation addresses this area by examining the ways in which cultural diversity is deployed in Australian discourse to create racialised multicultural subjects. Drawing on Foucauldian ideas of power, the research is embedded in a postmodern paradigm and utilises a qualitative approach.  The dissertation uses the popular new-media genre of digital storytelling for its case study analysis. Digital stories are digital multimedia films, generally three to four minutes in length, which assemble personalised scripts, images, music, and voice (Lovvorn 2011, p. 98). The films are usually based on individual experiences and narrated in the first person, and they almost always involve the use of personal photographs or home-movie footage. Digital storytelling began in America in the 1990s, as part of movements to make new media more accessible and democratic. The genre has become popular in community-based art contexts which are commonly animated by a desire to share “culturally-diverse” community stories.  The research for this dissertation is carried out in an arts context for two key reasons. First, the arts have historically had an influential role in the conceptualisation of multiculturalism in Australia and other colonial nations, propagating cultural exchange and Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  2 translation. As such, the arts are a dominant site where cultural diversity is formulated and discussed. Second, art practice is often envisioned as an exercise of personal expression and implies a space free of society’s usual boundaries. Due to this association, the dissertation considers how ethnic bodies are constructed, mobilised and/or limited by arts practice in the Australian field of “multicultural arts”/“community arts”/“diversity in arts”. The underlying political motives or ‘prescriptive conduct’ (Appignanesi 2010a, p. 5) of cultural diversity is at the heart of the research. In particular, the dissertation targets the ways in which the focus on cultural difference in digital storytelling projects can subtly reinstate the rigid boundaries of racial homogeneity that the projects attempt to deconstruct. This approach is eloquently introduced by Ghassan Hage (1998) in White Nation, in which he argues that although the “celebrate diversity” banner waved by Australia appears to embrace cultural pluralism, in fact, it re-establishes a white national fantasy. Following Hage, the dissertation considers how digital storytelling projects interact with the broader notion of multiculturalism and examines whether such projects work to destabilise the forceful fiction of whiteness or work to reinstate it. Specifically it asks: what are the ways in which Australian digital storytelling projects engage with concepts of cultural diversity and everyday multiculturalism to create material and affective possibilities for the “ethnic” subject? Do digital storytelling projects generate new subjectivities or do they reproduce traditional stereotypes? In addressing these questions, the dissertation embarks on a deconstruction of the ethnic body as it comes to be constituted through digital storytelling. Further, it works to analyse how performative slippages may present themselves in digital storytelling to reveal alternative aspects of lived cultural difference and subsequently destabilise the normative discourse of whiteness in Australia. The dissertation thus analyses the “how” and “what” aspects of digital storytelling projects. It utilises a Foucauldian framework that concerns itself not with where power originates, or why it operates, but how it is always productively exercised. (In short: what do these digital storytelling projects in Australia do?) The examination of “doing” could just as importantly be carried out via a lens of gender, sexuality, queerness, or class; and the dissertation remains alert to the ways in which manifold norms are bound up in any digital storytelling project and analysis. However, the dissertation concentrates on the normative discourse of whiteness, in particular, the ways in which ethnicity and race become “essentially” linked in the digital storytelling process. The dissertation views digital storytelling as an iterative performance that is produced and directed in certain ways and, as Belinda Smaill (2010, p. 138) writes in relation to the documentary form, ‘establishes the presence of the performing Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  3 subject by directing our attention to that subject’. This presence is bound up with certain fantasies of the self and the Other in multicultural Australia and ultimately impacts the ways in which the various bodies involved in the performance are articulated. The importance of such a project is demonstrated by the reignited discussions regarding the future of multiculturalism1 as well as the simultaneous tension regarding “cultural diversity” in new media and arts practice more broadly. The dissertation takes cues from Sneja Gunew, Ghassan Hage, and Elizabeth Povinelli to consider how, via the practice of digital storytelling, multicultural subjects become embedded in relations of power that both constrain and mobilise performances according to particular notions of whiteness and Australianness. Furthermore, since the dissertation views digital storytelling as a creative mediation of everyday life, it also adds to the work of Gay Hawkins (1993), Rimi Khan (2011), and Nikos Papastergiadis (2005, 2006, 2012a) who have mapped the complex relationships between art practices, community, and cultural diversity in an Australian context.  W a r r a n t  f o r  t h e  R e s e a r c h   Research into everyday multiculturalism is timely given the reinforcement of Australia as a multicultural nation in 2011 by the Gillard Labor Government. Multiculturalism has been an important element of the Australian imagination since its formal introduction in the 1970s. In its early years, it was one of the key metanarratives used to frame the future of Australia, a future that would productively draw on the cultural differences present in the immigrant nation. Although the multicultural narrative has always resonated in Australia, it has been unevenly expressed across time, frequently becoming the subject of public and political division, depending on the government in power.  The scholarly contributions to multiculturalism are significant, though rarely consistent. As Gunew (2012, p. 1450) outlines, scholarly discussions about multiculturalism often generate 																																								 																				1 While writing up this dissertation Islamaphobia spiked in Australia due to the emergence of Islamic extremist group IS, national security raids on homes of Arab-Australians in Western Sydney, and an eighteen-hour siege in which a man claiming to represent IS held a number of hostages inside a café, two of whom were killed during escape and/or rescue attempts. This called into question how “safe” a pluralist Australia is in the twenty-first century. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  4 confusion because so many elements are designated ‘multicultural’. Multiculturalism is approached as both a philosophy and a political theory, alongside the simultaneous impetus to ‘unpack the term “culture” itself’. Gunew (2012, p. 1450) explains:   As a political theory with policy dimensions, multiculturalism has often been described as marking a shift from previous stages where differences remained unrecognized and were simply subsumed into dominant groups and institutions … Multiculturalism as philosophy is linked with preserving universal rights for both individuals and distinctive groups, although there are often tensions between the two.  Both approaches have difficulty conceptualising multiculturalism into neat frameworks, ultimately because it is impossible to compartmentalise culture (Gunew 2012, p. 1451). Previously, scholars have carried out meticulous analyses of multiculturalism by examining its relationship to migratory patterns (Castles 1992; Vertovec 1996), nationalism (Castles 1992; Stratton 1998, 2011), concepts of ethnicity and race (Gilroy 1987, 1990, 2000; Gunew 2004; Hall 2000) and the idea of universal recognition (Taylor 1994). In an Australian context, multiculturalism is often studied from a social sciences or political theory perspective, and includes the work of Lois Foster and David Stockley (1984), Stephen Castles, Mary Kalantzis, Bill Cope and Michael Morrissey (1988), James Jupp (2007a), Geoffrey Brahm Levey (2008), Mark Lopez (2000), and, most recently, Andrew Jakubowicz and Christina Ho (2013). Cultural studies perspectives on Australian multiculturalism gained traction in the 1990s, especially through the work of Jon Stratton (1994, 1998) and Ien Ang (1994, 1996, 1999).   This dissertation focusses on the reconfiguration of multiculturalism in the twenty-first century and its deployment in relation to newly formed discourses of cultural diversity and everydayness. This intervention is timely because the Australian multicultural narrative has become particularly tenuous in the past decade. The highly-fragmented and diverse cultural landscape of twenty-first century Australia has exacerbated the instability of multiculturalism which continues to struggle against a prevailing stalwart Anglo-Celtic “battler” mythology. Indeed, the long-standing tension between the multifarious and mobile aspects of the Australian population and the nationalistic, security-conscious aspects has surfaced in ways that are both familiar and strange. Hybrid cultural products and encounters develop in a continuous, and seemingly mundane manner. Yet, we are also seeing the reprisal of white, Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  5 racist resistance in the form of independent political parties and vocal community groups such as Reclaim Australia.2  An examination of cultural diversity in contemporary Australian arts highlights some key trends and circumstances, which further warrant the investigation and add to the dissertation rationale. The Australian arts industry, along with the Western arts realm in general, appears to have hit a cross-road in its approach to cultural diversity. Signalling this predicament is the report out of the UK, Beyond Cultural Diversity: The Case for Creativity: A ‘Third Text’ Report. Edited by Richard Appignanesi (2010b), the book expresses a growing disharmony between the arts and the notion of diversity. In the Western arts industry, the quest to recognise difference began during the 1960s/1970s, a period labelled the ‘first-wave’ of institutional critique by Richard Appignanesi (2010a, p. 7). The second-wave of institutional critique emerged during the 1980s/1990s; a time when postmodern thought was gaining momentum. In Australia, these two waves of critique drew on difference in a politically active way, provoking questions about ethnic subjects and the Australian nation at large (Papastergiadis 2005, 2012b). Now, Appignanesi (2012a, p. 5) argues that artists, critics, and scholars are on the crest of a third-wave of critique, attempting to deal with the ways in which difference has come to mean something simultaneously empty and forceful. As summarised by Appignanesi (2010a, p. 5):   Let us be clear. Cultural diversity is a meaningless tautological expression. It tells us nothing but that cultures differ. Something other is hidden behind this mere description. The empty formulation disguises a prescriptive conduct.   Such a dilemma has similarly presented itself in cultural studies, where postmodern and poststructuralist theories have moved from investigations of identity to an elevation of ‘difference as a value in itself’ (Ang & St Louis 2005, p. 292). While this move was initially seen as a welcome relief from rigid identity categories, today cultural studies scholars are increasingly exasperated by the arguably empty overuse of difference and suspicious of the political motives 																																								 																				2 Reclaim Australia is a coalition of people who, according to the official website, have formed because they have ‘had enough of minorities not fitting in and trying to change our Australian cultural identity’ (2015, online, 10 April). The organisation petitions for such things as the banning of Muslim headdress and halal certification, and promotes Australian unity in the form of such things as ‘pride in the Australian flag and Anthem at all levels of schooling’. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  6 underlying this overuse. In short, many scholars are asking: what is the point of focussing on cultural difference (Ang & St Louis 2005, p. 292)?3 In an attempt to deal with the overwhelming nature of diversity and cultural transience, many projects are turning to a focus on the everyday. It has long been recognised that community-arts organisations tend to employ such a focus (see Grostal & Harrison 1994, Hawkins 1993); however, recent examination of professional/contemporary visual arts projects can also be seen to be walking the edge between everyday life and contemporary art.4  Digital storytelling has emerged from a desire to tell a story, generally of the ‘ordinary voice’, and for this reason has become a popular genre for artists and arts organisations that wish to engage with difference (Burgess 2006, p. 9). As will be illustrated in Chapter Two, digital stories are seen to provide an artistically effective and manageable way of expressing stories of everyday diversity. Thus, the stories often formulate a response to the question: who is the “ethnically-diverse person” and what are their “real” daily experiences? By doing so, many digital stories attempt to humanise the ethnic Other to forge positive connections and relationships between the ethnic narrators and the implied white Australian viewers. In these ways, digital storytelling projects represent an intersection of key movements in the contemporary cultural studies field. The examination of such projects provides a useful addition to the field of cultural studies as it undertakes new analyses of cultural diversity, multiculturalism, and contemporary art practice.   C o n c e p t u a l  F r a m e w o r k  a n d  M e t h o d o l o g y   As noted, the research embarks on a Foucauldian analysis of cultural diversity. It utilises a postmodern framework, though remains influenced by the interpretive social sciences research paradigm.5 The research methodology involved literature reviews of Australian multiculturalism practices and policies, ethnic and community-based art practice, and digital storytelling. The 																																								 																				3 See, for example: Sara Ahmed (2012), Ien Ang (2003), Chua Beng-Huat (2005), Davina Cooper (2004), Terry Eagleton (2007), and Lisa Lowe (2005). 4 For example, the artwork by emerging Australian artists Lisa Hilli, Paula do Prado, and Dominique Rada. 5 The interpretive paradigm is influenced by anthropology and seeks to study culture from ‘within’, as a constructed and dynamic field. In this paradigm the researcher is always implicated within the study (Taylor & Medina 2013, pp. 3-4). Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  7 reviews were mainly limited to literature dated from 1990, with a particular focus on literature published in 2000 and beyond. Empirical data was also collected via a series of semi-formal interviews with Australian artists and community organisation representatives, either in person or via Skype.6 The interviews used qualitative, open-ended questions, which allowed the interviewees to elaborate as they felt necessary. Some of the questions, such as those regarding the interviewee’s perception of multiculturalism or “multicultural arts”, were standard across the interviews. The latter half of the interview tended to include questions tailored to the interviewee’s particular art practice or project. Other primary sources drawn upon for the research included publicly available materials on arts organisations and artists, such as biographies, press releases, programme descriptions, and mission statements; reports provided by relevant organisations, for example, the final evaluation report on Big hART’s Junk Theory. This initial research helped to map the terrain of multicultural art in Australia, and generated questions about the ways in which multiculturalism and cultural difference are embodied within it. Patterns emerged pertaining to the types of art practices commonly pursued in community-based and multicultural arts realms. New media usage was shown to be very popular in twenty-first century community-based arts projects. Digital storytelling stood out as a common form of expressing cultural diversity. Once the genre was identified as the site of analysis, a few extra interviews were carried out with practitioners and participants of digital storytelling projects. While these interviews provided useful insights, most of the analysis undertaken in the dissertation occurs on the outputs themselves, that is, on the digital stories. Unlike other studies of everyday multiculturalism which employ ethnographic approaches to collect large quantities of empirical data from subjects, this research has been interested in the public form that seemingly personal testimonies of migration and cultural difference have taken. This lack of significant data represents a limitation to the research, which would undoubtedly benefit in the future from more extensive field work. At the same time, the focus on outputs has enabled a different kind of critique, namely, an analysis of the broader discursive frameworks that construct subjects of multiculturalism. By focussing on the final outputs, the dissertation has been able to assess the types of claims made by digital storytelling and everyday multiculturalism and to consider how these claims impact broader understandings of race and ethnicity in Australian life.  																																								 																				6 For a full list of interviews, see Appendix 1. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  8 In light of the project’s cultural theory aspect, secondary sources were consistently drawn upon to develop the theoretical framework of the research and inform the collection and analysis of data. The framework developed for the dissertation involved three theoretical tools—Michel Foucault’s apparatus of security, Judith Butler’s theory of performativity, and aspects of affect theory. These theories were chosen for their combined ability to address the complexities of cultural difference in Australia in relation to subject formation. In a way, the theories set up a tiered system that allowed the analysis of subject formation to move from a macro perspective (in the form of apparatus of security), to a micro perspective (through the application of affect). In other words, the structure allowed for an analysis of how the multicultural subject is constructed in relation to the macro, or public discourses of multiculturalism, as well as the more nuanced and seemingly private or micro interactions that occur at the level of the body. It must be noted that this process is defined as highly inter-related, so that the subject’s encounters at a micro level are always implicated in the relationships of power at a macro level. Indeed, unlike many studies in everyday multiculturalism, the approach does not attempt to “fill in a gap” between the everyday and institutionalised formations of multiculturalism. Rather, the dissertation considers what sets of relations exist within this so-called “gap” and how these relations can be channelled for different material effects in Australian life. The three-tiered optics assist such a task. The dissertation remains aware of the broader network of power within which the digital stories pertaining to ethnicity, migration, and cultural diversity are embedded. Maintaining this awareness follows Foucault’s movements in the 1980s where he began to reinterpret his previous formulations of power by theorising biopolitics and apparatuses of security. The dissertation uses these notions to contextualise the multicultural arts subject and consider how artists and community members are coaxed into particular kinds of ethnic subjects, for example, via Australian multicultural policy or Australian arts policy, which discursively orient Australia’s “multicultural community”.  Underpinning the case study analysis is the theory of performativity, as developed by Judith Butler. This theory uses Foucault’s formulation of power as something that acts through discourse, rather than upon subjects from the outside. Butler extends this to show how the body materialises through the perpetual reiteration of norms, acquiring ‘an act-like status in the present’ and concealing ‘the convention of which it is a repetition’ (Foucault 1978, p. 155; Butler 1993, p. 12). It is this perpetual reiteration propelled through discourse that Butler (1993, p. 2) terms ‘performativity’, the citational force by which ‘discourse produces the effect Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  9 that it names’. Part of the research thus aims to consider what terms of cultural diversity the digital storytelling projects employ. The study analyses performativity in digital stories in order to add texture to the field of everyday multiculturalism. It argues that the multicultural or ethnic body is not pre-given in Australian life, but emerges as ‘power’s most productive effect’ (Butler 1993, p. 2; see Foucault 1978). Butler goes to great lengths in Gender Trouble (1990) to demonstrate why we should not think of the body as existing a priori, a position the dissertation also adopts. This view of the body departs from some feminist and post-colonial scholarship, which continues to understand the body as something that becomes marked with difference. Such a view is problematic as it is unable to escape the idea of the body as a “natural” entity; a naturalness tied to notions of innate biological traits and ultimately, racial differences. Thus, while such scholarship attempts to unbind the body from restrictive categories, it subsequently works to further bind it to such categories. Departing from this, the ethnic body is here analysed ‘not as a site or surface’ but ‘as a process of materialization that stabilizes over time to produce the effect of boundary, fixity, and surface we call matter’ (Butler 1993, p. 9). This approach also resembles Sara Ahmed’s work in Strange Encounters (2000), which considers how bodies are constituted through processes of discursive inclusion and exclusion. Following Affrica Taylor’s (2006) blending of performativity with Louis Althusser’s (1970) interpellation, the dissertation examines how persons featured in digital stories are hailed into the subject position of “white Australian” or “ethnic Other”, and maintained there by means of the perpetual citation of racialised norms. As Butler (1997a, p. 197) has shown us, ‘social discourse wields the power to form and regulate a subject through the imposition of its own terms’. Digital stories about multicultural subjects can be read as performative texts that materialise bodies in relation to what Ruth Frankenberg (1993, pp. 16-17) describes as the ‘invisible white’ person in Australia.  It became clear when watching the digital stories that there was a conceptual “gap” between the visual and linguistic performance of the stories and the current discourses of multiculturalism. There was also the pressing need to discuss the private and public aspects of these stories without falling into restrictive, binary thinking. As outlined above, the research invokes the various and interrelated relationships between institutionalised ideas of multiculturalism with the material, or street level articulation of these ideas. Affect theory, particularly as developed by Lawrence Grossberg, Ann Cvetkovich, Lauren Berlant, and Sara Ahmed, is the theoretical tool used to furnish this critical dimension. Importantly, the Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  10 dissertation examines if (and how) digital storytelling can manipulate citationality and unsettle the boundaries of the body that whiteness wishes to maintain. In this way, the dissertation takes seriously Povinelli’s (2002, p. 6, 29) recommendation for critical race scholars to question how subaltern subjects ‘creatively elaborate new social imaginaries’ and ‘creatively engage the slippages, dispersions and ambivalences of discursive and moral formations that make up their lives’. This is a turn that Foucault (1984, 1990) encouraged towards the end of his career: investigating how an ethics of self can be informed by creative practice. There are three key conceptual points that delimit the scope of the research and must be noted at the outset. The first pertains to the ways in which understandings of the globe are utilised. Digital storytelling has not been developed in isolation but its construction and deployment has moved from a Western centrifugal point. Theory used to examine the digital storytelling phenomena also stem from a Western paradigm, especially contemporary uses of affect in critical theory. The use of ‘the West’ in this dissertation draws on the work of Gayatri Spivak (2012) whose recent theory of planetarity points to the global mapping that has occurred since imperialism, and continues today through dominant understandings of globalisation. The West here acts as an ambiguous but forceful space encapsulating Western Europe and North America, including Canada. The dissertation is wary of reinforcing the binary between the West and “the rest”, where the West assumes authority and the rest is marginalised by the homogenisation of all “other” cultural contexts. As such, it recognises not only the limitations to the research but the importance of ensuring the analysis does not assume certain forms of cultural authority. This includes, for example, ensuring the use of affect that is mindful of different cultural codes and affective registers.7  Second, Australian multiculturalism and racialisation has produced its own specificities. British colonialism in Australia began with the invasion and attempted eradication of Australia’s First Nations and proceeded with a deliberate British-only immigration scheme. When it was conceded that migrants from outside of Britain were required for population and economic development purposes, those with the fairest skin were targeted, for example, Northern, Eastern, and subsequently Southern Europeans. Despite arriving from the “Western” context, these new migrants quickly became relegated as racially Other in comparison to the dominant Anglo-Saxon culture (see Nicolacopoulos & Vassilacopoulos 2011, p. 152). This abjection of not-quite white migrants has many similarities to the abjection of Aboriginal and Torres Strait 																																								 																				7 For further information, see proceedings from Feeling multicultural: decolonizing affect theory colloquium (2006). Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  11 Islander Australians, although, there are many further differences and considerations. Over the years there have been both conflicts and alliances between Indigenous rights activists and multiculturalism advocates but the two movements remain distinct. This dissertation thus uses Australian multiculturalism to refer to systemic responses to post-war migration, while acknowledging that the deployment of whiteness within this response was affected by colonial Australia’s disavowal of the country’s Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.    Finally, and in case it is not clear from the research overview, the dissertation does not critique digital storytelling according to categories of aesthetic or new media ‘quality’. The analysis is always focussed on what the genre does—how it constructs and impacts understandings of ethnicity and race.  T h e s i s  S t r u c t u r e  a n d  C h a p t e r  O u t l i n e   The critical development of multicultural theory has been as important to this dissertation as the goal of understanding the empirical data. Given the recurrence of racialised violence in contemporary Australia, a commitment to rigorous and self-reflexive methodologies of race and ethnic studies is vital. At the same time, the research process has been aware of the risk of saturating the case study analysis with theory. The analysis does, after all, utilise more than one theoretical optic, and intervenes at a point where a few aspects of cultural phenomena intersect. A great deal of thought has thus gone into how these threads come together and, importantly, how they can reveal a clear and useful picture of everyday multiculturalism in this moment. The structure of the dissertation aims to mirror the evolving nature of the research—beginning with the overarching field and theory, and gradually revealing dimensions of the research that became clearer as the data was read more closely. The dissertation begins by describing the field of intervention: multicultural studies. Chapter One provides a brief historical overview of multiculturalism from the 1970s when it was first constructed as Australian government policy. An outline of the ways in which the scholarship of multiculturalism changed in relation to historical shifts is also provided, though the focus remains on the past ten years. It is important to note the fluid relationship between multiculturalism as a form of management and scholarship, and the real-life experience of cultural difference in everyday life. Chapter One structures the overview of these elements of Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  12 multiculturalism where changes to one element happens in a cumulative way, always impacted by the other elements. Thus, when the chapter describes the scholarly shifts from rights-based forms of multiculturalism, to identity politics, to a celebration of cultural plurality, it does so with the awareness that these shifts are intrinsically influenced by changes to the way cultural difference is experienced and interpreted in daily life.8 The latter part of Chapter One focusses on the shift in cultural studies towards the everyday. This shift is reflected in twenty-first century arts practice as well as governmental policies and programmes. It has also made way for the emergence of everyday multiculturalism, a field that studies cultural difference “on the ground”. An overview of this field, including major approaches and contributors is provided. The chapter flags the problems and openings in this literature and, as a result, maps out the ways in which everyday multiculturalism is defined by the dissertation.  Chapter Two explains how digital storytelling is a useful genre for the analysis of everyday multiculturalism. The chapter begins by charting digital storytelling, including its main definition(s), its history and development, the context within which it emerges, and what it conventionally involves. An analysis of the academic research on digital storytelling is subsequently given, summarising the literature’s main themes, key approaches and arguments, and the problematic areas of the research. The chapter combines the outcomes of this literature review with Chapter One’s conclusions about multicultural studies to outline the theoretical framework for analysing digital stories in relation to everyday multiculturalism.   Chapter Three comprises the dissertation’s case study analysis with an exploration of the Australian Centre for the Moving Image’s (ACMI)’s digital storytelling programme. As Australia’s largest archive of digital stories, ACMI is paramount to the practice and institutionalisation of digital storytelling in Australia. Its focus on migrant digital storytelling in Melbourne and greater Victoria has greatly impacted the ways in which the genre has come to be understood as a vehicle for expressing cultural difference. Hundreds of stories about “ethnic” experience have been produced by migrant Australians in association with ACMI. The chapter undertakes a close reading of two digital stories identified as typical of the collection: Sam Haddad’s (2007) Loving Lebanon and Australia (LLAA) and Fatma Coskun’s (2007) New 																																								 																				8 As Hage (1998, p. 236) states:   the recognition of diversity did not cause diversity to happen, it was precisely because diversity had already become an entrenched part of a social reality that no attempts to impose assimilation could change the fact that the government needed a policy that could recognise this diversity in order to govern it.  	Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  13 Life, New Country (NLNC). The reading utilises the theory of performativity to analyse how digital stories pertaining to ethnic diversity manifest according to norms of whiteness.  Chapter Four extends this work by analysing the performativity of ethnicity in collective digital stories. It focusses on the multi-media installation Junk Theory (JT) (2005-2007), a community-based arts project directed by art-for-social-change organisation, Big hART. The chapter compares the narrative structure, aesthetic techniques, and audio components of JT to ACMI’s individual storytelling, addressed in Chapter Three. The comparison allows for a discussion of how everyday multiculturalism normatively structures both the individual body and the body of the nation. Chapter Five builds on Chapter Four’s case study analysis by considering how the digital hypertexts create an affective relationship between the “ethnic” narrator and “non-ethnic” implied viewer. The analysis involves a further reading of LLAA, NLNC, and JT, this time focussing on how the three stories deploy a particular affective scale. This scale involves movement from one pole of affect to another: beginning with a sad, monocultural past and moving towards a happy, multicultural present. The chapter adds two other ACMI-produced stories to its analysis, Rita el-Khoury’s (2007) Where Do I Belong? and Kenan Besirolgou’s (2007) Yeni Hayat = New Life. These case studies shed further light on how migrant success and a notion of “the good life” become implicated in the affective economies of migrant lives.  The latter part of Chapter Five turns its attention to the migrant body more specifically, to exemplify how all expressions of ethnicity produce certain bodies. It argues that when we pay attention to the mundane practices and phenomenological experiences of embodying space, we begin to see the way affective economies call upon particular bodily practices and ultimately reproduce the borders of the normative body. The chapter illustrates how these practices frequently deploy the face and hands. Using affect theory that focusses on the skin and conceptions of “primal” emotions, the chapter points to the genre’s problematic tendency to construct a universal notion of the human. Doing so morphs the ethnic human into the same hermeneutic horizon as the white body, creating its own violence. Chapter Six examines how digital stories can disrupt the performativity of whiteness. Using Butler and Ahmed, the chapter proposes a definition of performative slippage and goes on to illustrate its capacity to resist racialisation. In particular, the chapter identifies moments in digital stories that disrupt the performative chain, or the chain created as norms are passed from one object to another. These slippages are not immediately obvious in terms of discursive notions of identity and subjectivity, most commonly addressed in critiques of racialised Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 	  14 representations (see Grossberg 1997). To illustrate this point, the analysis carries out a close reading of Huseyin Duman’s (2007) Ithal Damat = Imported Groom (ID[IG]), a conventional digital story that rather awkwardly shares Huseyin’s migration journey from Turkey to Australia. The chapter argues that the ambiguous moments present in stories like ID(IG) reveal alternative aspects of cultural diversity normally obscured by the digital storytelling genre. Based on this, the chapter then moves to illustrate how performative slippages can be digitally harnessed to destabilise the discourse of whiteness. Raymond Nashar’s (2007) el ajnabi, Adam Nudelman’s (2007) The Shoemaker, Carla Pascoe’s (2007) The Spaces In Between, and Ximena Silberman’s (2007) Second Life are referred to as examples of digital storytelling that convey the complex, non-linear formations of migrant subjectivities. The final chapter brings together the key arguments made in the dissertation to propose a critically reflexive model for both digital storytelling and everyday multiculturalism. In order to flesh this model out, Sydney-based organisation Curious Works is examined. The chapter argues that the digital story genre necessitates flexibility if it is wishes to productively engage with the dynamism of lived cultural difference. Curious Works’ helps illustrate this—its digital interventions are a mélange of new media and community-based art practices, incorporating aspects of the conventional digital storytelling genre in a fluid fashion. The digital story, The Chronicles of Liam’s Hair (COLH) (2010), part of a Curious Works initiative, is discussed as one example. The story, produced in the everyday setting of a classroom, and taking a satirical, documentary-style spoof, becomes a useful platform for the political possibilities of digital storytelling. At the same time, it makes way for meaningful discussions about everyday multiculturalism, in particular, how to remain aware of and thwart the impeding presence of whiteness in these studies. The chapter argues that by incorporating elements of critical or vernacular cosmopolitanism into the production and consumption of digital stories, understandings of everyday multiculturalism can be retextured. As such, seemingly ordinary stories like COLH enable a troubling performativity, one that provides greater material possibilities for “ethnic Australians”. This is a performativity that must be incited whenever we imagine Australia and, importantly, whenever we imagine what kinds of Australians we might embody.  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   15 CHAPTER ONE: Developing a Crit ical  Framework for Everyday Mult icultural ism in Austral ia   Multiculturalism is both too much and too little. For some it discourages integration, and for the ‘‘unintegrated’’ it precludes it.  —Maree Pardy and Jul ian C.H. Lee, ‘Using buzzwords of belonging’  (2011, p.  309)  I n t r o d u c t i o n   On the topic of multiculturalism in 2011, Andrew M. Robinson succinctly notes: ‘The last decade hasn’t been kind to multiculturalism’ (2011, p. 29). Although multiculturalism has always had its critics, Robinson argues that it has been ‘losing ground’ in countries where it formerly flourished, including Canada, the Netherlands, and the United Kingdom (2011, p. 11). The same can also be said for Australia, which, since the turn of the century, has frequently mirrored Western European sentiment that “multiculturalism is dead”—in both the domains of public rhetoric and scholarly analysis.9 As a consequence, the way multiculturalism is studied in contemporary Australia has changed, generally taking on one of two approaches.  The first approach has been to emphasise the positive aspects of multiculturalism, often with a focus on the richness that cultural diversity adds to Australian society. The second approach is more critical, working to illustrate the complexities and issues of multiculturalism as a societal phenomenon. Often, this latter approach moves discussions of cultural difference beyond the framework of multiculturalism altogether, either in the form of a complete renunciation, or as a subtle but evident departure. This chapter will argue that the study of multiculturalism is not ready to be abandoned, but it does need to be reconceptualised with broader terms. Multiculturalism studies should analyse the multitude of forces and relations that constitute the present moment of culturally-diverse life in Australia, but always with the understanding that this analysis might look different from another angle.  																																								 																				9 For Australian media examples, see Savva (2011),The 7:30 Report (2011), and Uhlmann (2011). Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   16 To illustrate the importance of this reconceptualisation, the chapter provides an overview of current multiculturalism scholarship and outlines how the dissertation intervenes into the emerging field of everyday multiculturalism. The chapter begins by considering how everyday multiculturalism is related to historical understandings of multiculturalism in Australia. A brief summary of Australian multiculturalism is provided, starting with its initial implementation as a government policy in the 1970s. The chapter is particularly interested in the shifting ecology of multiculturalism in the twenty-first century, including the eruption of the term “cultural diversity” in multicultural discourses. Using Hage’s (1998) highly influential work White Nation, alongside Povinelli’s (2002) The Cunning of Recognition, the chapter outlines how everyday multiculturalism might be meaningfully used in contemporary analyses of cultural difference.  Importantly, the dissertation’s contribution to the field involves a slight, but critical readjustment to the way everyday multiculturalism is contextualised as an area of study. In particular, it moves away from the idea of everyday multiculturalism being that which “fills in” a gap, or that which “just is” in everyday life. Multicultural life and the plethora of terms associated with it—cultural diversity, cultural difference, ethnicity, and so on—are terms that act in highly political ways and create material consequences. To think about everyday multiculturalism as that which exists authentically is to risk collapsing into idealist thinking, and ultimately to reinstate racist structures. It is to ignore, in other words, the power embedded within any given critique—including this one. As such, the framework used in this dissertation involves a persistent reflexivity, remaining mindful of both its own discursive force and the discursive force of other studies it draws on. At the same time, the approach does not want to lose a forward-looking perspective. The need to navigate and reconceptualise cultural difference is as pertinent as ever, and we cannot find useful ways to do this if we remain solely on familiar ground.   A u s t r a l i a ’ s  H i s t o r y  a s  a  M u l t i c u l t u r a l  N a t i o n :  F r o m  A s s i m i l a t i o n  t o  C u l t u r a l  D i v e r s i t y   As the twenty-first century approached, theoretical understandings of identity began to change, making way for a reimagining of multiculturalism and ethnic rights in Australia. The Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   17 interpretation and deployment of identity categories like “ethnicity” became much more fragmented. Influenced by postmodern philosophers like Michel Foucault, Jean Baudrillard, and Jacques Derrida, cultural critiques began to move from investigations of identity to an elevation of difference (Ang & St Louis 2005, p. 292). Attending to “ethnic needs” at large was increasingly considered inadequate for negotiating the differences between ethnic communities in Western countries, its inadequacy exacerbated by the increasing mobility of people and information across the globe. In Australia, these theoretical debates translated to new critiques of multiculturalism. The beginning of Australian multiculturalism in the 1970s was based on a minority rights model that recognised that social inequalities existed because of ethnic difference (Nicolacopoulos & Vassilacopoulos 2011, p. 145). In the comprehensive study of Australian multiculturalism, From White Australia to Woomera (2007a), James Jupp explains that the formation of Australian multiculturalism was instigated by the large and vocal contingents of Eastern- and Southern-European immigrants (2007a, p. 82). The post-war migration schemes had greatly diversified the cultural constitution of Australia, shoring up questions of cultural access, maintenance, and equity, questions answered mostly by State government at this time. The Australian government took its cue from Canada, a fellow member of the Commonwealth that was also experiencing pressure from minority cultures. Minority Canadian cultures were arguing that its Federal Government needed to better cater to the specific needs of ethnic communities and better acknowledge the plurality of the nation as a whole. The 1970 Canadian Royal Commission on Bilingualism and Biculturalism thus analysed Anglophone and Francophone heritage in Canada, but also gave considerable attention to Canadians whose heritage was neither British nor French. It was this study that led to the conception of multiculturalism, a management strategy soon adopted by Australia (Jupp 2007a, p. 80).  Under the guidance of Gough Whitlam’s Labor Party, the Government acknowledged that new migrants had different needs and required greater attention in immigration policy. The Federal Government began to be advised on strategies of cultural adaptation and in 1973 the Minister for Immigration, Al Grassby, referred to Australia as ‘multicultural’ for the first time (Koleth 2010, p. 4). The Fraser Liberal Government continued the work started by Labor and in 1977 institutionalised multiculturalism as an official national policy. It commissioned two reports in 1977—the Australian Ethnic Affairs Council’s (AEAC)’s Australia as a Multicultural Society and the Galbally Report. Based on the reports’ recommendations, Fraser’s government extended the notion of multiculturalism from a minority-needs basis to a Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   18 more overt recognition that cultural diversity was both implicit in and valuable to Australian culture. This augmentation marked the implementation of what Toula Nicolacopoulos and George Vassilacopoulos (2011, p. 146) describe as a cultural pluralist model of multiculturalism. The AEAC report concluded rather ambitiously that:  Australia should be working towards … not a oneness, but a unity, not a similarity, but a composite, not a melting pot but a voluntary bond of dissimilar people sharing a common political and institutional structure’ (1977 cited in Jupp 2007a, p. 83).  Working towards such an ambition was, however, slow going, with relatively few programmes implemented to specifically address the report’s principles of plural composition (Jupp 2007a). In the first instance, funding was siphoned to ethnic advisory organisations who could help provide resources and assistance to specific ethnic groups. Ultimately, the management of multiculturalism continued to be structured by a centralised white Anglo-Celtic value system. Ethnic boards were appointed but always reported to the white managerial centre, rather than being actively involved within it (Nicolacopoulos & Vassilacopoulos 2011, p. 146; Jupp 2007a, p. 43). It was henceforth argued that this model of multiculturalism did not practically manage the various differences it aimed to consolidate; nor did it allow for an accommodation of those differences that people wanted to maintain as distinct. Indeed, arguments abounded about the entrenched racism of the policy, with some arguing that multiculturalism was a neo-colonialist system; the contemporary version of Australia’s assimilation or White Australia Policy (Armitage 1995; Ashcroft, Griffiths & Tiffin 1998, p. 163). Multiculturalism was seen to welcome difference so long as such difference was prepared to change, or “melt in”, to the dominant, white culture. In other words, if said difference was prepared to be less different. These debates were on the priority list of Paul Keating’s agenda when he was elected as the new Labor Prime Minister in 1990. This election foresaw a new era in Australian politics and a new deployment of ‘cultural diversity’ (Ang 2001, p. 153). Renewed policies and initiatives were established that encouraged the celebration of difference as opposed to the maintenance of a unified identity. The use of cultural difference in this manner was evidenced most clearly in the arts, a long time contributor to renegotiations of race, ethnicity, and the white-European canon of modernity. The Australia Council Multicultural Advisory Committee—initiated and chaired by cultural theorist Sneja Gunew— attempted to move away from an arts movement that had remained in the 1989 Arts for a Multicultural Australia Policy Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   19 about ‘social harmony’ and ‘unity’ towards an openness to diversity and fragmentation (Blonski 1992, p. 10). Such work greatly contributed to research and policy directives that critically engaged multiculturalism and the arts. At the end of the 1980s, the notion that Australians should celebrate cultural diversity and work from models of pluralism rather than commonality became popular and prevailed into the 1990s (Ang, Hawkins & Daboussey 2008, p. 20). This period is thus described by Ien Ang, Gay Hawkins and Lamia Daboussey (2008, p. 20) as one of ‘cosmopolitan multiculturalism’—a time which encouraged Australians of all backgrounds to embrace a ‘global cultural diversity’. The arts realm was most adept at embracing a global modality of multiculturalism. Indeed, in the Western context, the discursive shift from multiculturalism to cultural diversity is largely attributable to practices of diasporic artists. The late 1960s and early 1970s saw a shift in European art institutions to the inclusion of African and Asian artists, albeit a relatively minimal shift within what remained a stringent white-colonial framework of art history (Appignanesi 2010). Such a shift was instigated by what Appignanesi (2010a, p. 7) terms the ‘first wave’ of institutional critique in the arts. This wave was greatly influenced by the work of London-based Rasheed Araeen, who pioneered minimalism in the 1960s. Araeen went on to found Third Text, a journal dedicated to representing ethnic artists and politicising the need to re-write colonial art history to include cultural difference (Appignanesi 2010a, p. 10). These critical movements were slighter in Australia; non-Anglo Australian artists remained largely invisible during this period, and screens, galleries, and radio stations remained mostly white (Ang, Hawkins & Dabboussey 2008, p. 8). The Australia Council was formed in 1973 to oversee the implementation of arts policies and express an ‘Australian identity’, but the presence of migrant communities within this expression remained absent (Blonski 1992, p. 3). A positive move occurred in 1975 when Grassby initiated SBS—the world’s first station to develop multicultural public service broadcasting (Ang, Hawkins & Dabboussey 2008, p. 4). SBS was designed to provide important government information to migrants in their own languages (Ang, Hawkins & Dabboussey 2008, pp. 9-10). Nevertheless, the artistic work of migrant communities remained cut-off from institutionalised art practice and policy. By the end of the 1970s, the Australia Council was under attack for the lack of support it offered ethnic artists (Blonski 1992, pp. 2-3). These artists were ‘challenging the notion of a universal aesthetic and demanding a renegotiation of what constituted “Australian” art, “ethnic art” or indeed, the very use of the designation “ethnic”’ (Blonksi 1992, p. 3). The Council thus began to adjust and the 1980s saw what Ang, Hawkins and Dabboussey (2008, p. 19) describe as an ethno-Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   20 multiculturalism in the arts: a focus on ‘catering to the special needs and interests of migrants and ethnic communities’. A range of arts programmes and initiatives were (and continue to be) implemented under the banner of cultural diversity. At a governmental level, however, the cosmopolitan period of multiculturalism was short-lived. The election of the conservative Howard Liberal Government in 1996 foresaw a renewed assimilationist discourse and an overall retraction of multiculturalism from the national narrative. For Prime Minister John Howard, multiculturalism was less important than “One Australia”. This conception of Australia acknowledged that Australians came from various parts of the world, but required a fervent loyalty to Australian ‘institutions ... values and ... traditions’, in a way that transcended ‘loyalty to any other set of values’ (Howard 1999 cited in Jupp 2007a, p. 106). Multicultural policies established during this period focussed on security, border control, and ‘appropriate levels’ of immigration; proposals based on diverse rights and pluralist values were often not endorsed (Koleth 2010, p. 13). The common public sentiment of this time was that Australia had been too lax; too embracing, and was now “paying the price” in the form of a loss of Australian values. Indeed, for those Australians Hage (1998, p. 189) labels as ‘Hansonites’—supporters of Pauline Hanson’s One Nation Party—there wasn’t so much a fear that Australians were losing control of their nation to “foreigners”, as there was a fear that they had already lost control. This concern was exacerbated in the early years of the twenty-first century. During this time, terrorist attacks in the United States, London, Bali, and Spain, and an increase in asylum seeker arrivals and crimes by so-called “ethnic gangs”, provided props for validating the government’s position; namely, to proceed with caution with regard to Australia’s ethnic constitution (see Poynting et al. 2004).  The return of Labor to power in 2007 brought about the possibility of change in this area. However, under the leadership of Kevin Rudd (2007-2010), Julia Gillard (2010-2013), and Rudd once more (June 2013-September 2013), multiculturalism was politically managed in more or less the same way as the previous Liberal Government. The Gillard Labor Government reinstated multiculturalism in its immigration policy portfolio in 2011 and expressed a much greater affiliation with “multicultural Australia” than Howard. But, while this government’s approach to multiculturalism softened in some ways, it remained aggressive in many others and tended to mirror the discursive tone of Howard. In particular, it echoed Howard’s suspicion of non-white Australians, and his nationalistic emphasis on a united, patriotic nation, as symbolised by the name change of the Department of Immigration and Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   21 Multicultural Affairs to the Department of Immigration and Citizenship.10 Gillard also re-adopted many of the policies installed by the former government to manage asylum seekers and refugees. The hostility of this anti-asylum seeker discourse intensified following the successful leadership challenge by Kevin Rudd in the weeks before the 2013 Federal election. Moving to the opposition’s agenda of tighter border control and heightened nationalism, Rudd introduced the most severe asylum seeker and refugee policies ever seen in Australia. These policies included navy interception of all boats, offshore processing, and no chance of Australian settlement for any refugee arriving by boat. Shortly after, in September 2013, the Abbott Liberal party was elected to govern. It claimed that Labor had failed to keep Australia’s borders secure and, as such, began implementing severe policies that narrowed the scope of multiculturalism further still. A colonial narrative is evident in Abbott’s pre-election speech, which asked the Australian public to decide who was ‘more fair dinkum’, and declared:   The functions of government are to deliver a stronger economy, to provide national security, and to build a stronger and more cohesive society … One thing that’s been most dismaying about the current government is their attempts to turn Australian against Australian … it’s extraordinary that a government which has failed to stop people coming illegally to Australia by boat has tried consistently to demonise people coming to Australia legally and working and paying taxes from day one. You’ll never find this kind of divisiveness from me. I am proud of Australia as an immigrant society, I am proud of the fact that people from all over the world have come here not to change us but to join us … [it] will increase under a Coalition government (Abbott 2013, italics added).  Unsurprisingly, policies towards immigration and cultural diversity have subsequently been more severe than critics of other conservative Australian governments could have anticipated (Grewcock 2014). Implicit in the border security rhetoric is a debasement of multiculturalism.    																																								 																				10 Removing the word multicultural from Federal management suggested a lessening of its importance. It was also indicative of a re-linking of ethnic difference to a managerial model of Australian citizenship, where citizenship is earned via active participation in white Australian activities and narratives (see Stratton 2011).  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   22 C u l t u r a l  D i v e r s i t y  a n d  i t s  C r i t i c s :  T w o  K e y  A p p r o a c h e s  t o  t h e  C r i s i s  o f  M u l t i c u l t u r a l i s m    Given the many forms of government changes and multicultural resistance and criticism, it is not surprising that multiculturalism is currently experiencing an existential crisis. A paradoxical condition has emerged in present-day Australia: mobility, cultural difference, and interconnectedness are as heightened as ever, at the same time that aggressive nationalist practices are exaggerated and borders are tightened. So, while people are more dispersed than ever across the globe, the globe has become a grid of security, capital and control, which intimately monitors the dispersal (Gilroy 2006, p. 65; Noble 2005, p. 108). This paradox has wedged itself within practical and theoretical work on multiculturalism, stalling its critical development and leading to what both Ien Ang and Jon Stratton (1998) and Greg Noble (2009) term a ‘crisis’ of multiculturalism. For Noble, the identity focus of theoretical multiculturalism is inadequate to address the complexity of living cultural difference, while the practical political aspects (programmes and policies) remain inadequate to service the diverse needs of a multicultural community. This inadequacy is especially evident since Australian diversity is undergoing an ‘evolving hyper-diversity’, in which diversity itself is diversifying (Ang et al. 2002; Noble 2009, p. 47). The task for studies in multiculturalism, and those studies related to it, is to unpack this conjuncture and formulate ways to navigate its contradictions. Currently, there exist two main approaches to the so-called crisis. The first approach retains the importance of multiculturalism by inflating and promoting its positive attributes. The second approach, which can broadly be described as critical multiculturalism, problematises the field by retexturing its meaning and attempting to reconnect its political/theoretical domain with its everyday manifestations. In some instances, the second approach renounces the concept of multiculturalism, positioning it as a past phenomenon and conceptualising new methodologies for the study of cultural difference. This dissertation does not restrict its approach to one or the other per se. It argues that multiculturalism remains a highly productive force worthy of attention, while also acknowledging that methodologies for governing, theorising, and living cultural diversity need to move beyond what have become, by way of some understandings of multiculturalism, routine, even empty tropes and gestures. In the spirit of Vijay Mishra (2012), and in much the same manner that Stuart Hall (2003) has Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   23 utilised the word creolization, the dissertation is less concerned with the term this new kind of critique assumes, as it is with the particular kind of work the critique does and enables. Like Mishra (2012, p. 18), the dissertation is interested in tracing the various assemblages that have created this particular historical moment of multiculturalism.  The first approach to multiculturalism studies focusses on the celebration of cultural diversity. This approach is common in education literature and is associated in many ways with Charles Taylor’s (1994) liberal multiculturalism and recognition. While there are useful dimensions to this approach, the dissertation is concerned that its vehement promotion of cultural difference can enable racialisation to continue, albeit in discreet ways. The term ‘cultural diversity’ carries with it a range of definitions and interpretations, although it has, across these variances, some similarities. First, as Jean Fisher (2010, p. 61) notes, the term is always related to notions of social justice, acting as a site of debate in nations which have a legacy of ‘injustice, inequality and discrimination against minority groups’. This dynamic is certainly the case in Australia and the greater West, where the effects of imperialism and colonialism are redistributed through its institutions and systems of knowledge. Second, it carries with it a relation to agency, or the degree to which individuals are ‘free’ to act as ‘political and legal subjects’ in any given society (Fisher 2010, p. 61). Finally, the term ‘almost always implies a majority monoculture against which all else is “diverse”, predicated on an hypostatisation of cultural and ethnic (or other) differences’ (Fisher 2010, p. 61). This latter point is crucial because, while diversity certainly has and can refer to a range of identity markers, its development in the West has been in reference to racial or ethnic markers of difference. It has, in this context, emerged in societies defined as being ethnically plural, or “multicultural” in constituency. Fisher’s discussion is in relation to the U.K. context; however, it translates usefully in Australia. Ang and St Louis (2005, p. 296) explain how ethnic, linguistic, and cultural differences become officially sanctioned by the Australian State through multiculturalism: ‘The celebration of cultural diversity … is an article of faith in self-identified multicultural societies’. The dissertation joins a range of cultural studies academics, artists, and art critics who see themselves at this critical cross-road, or on the crest of a third wave of critique regarding cultural diversity (Ang & St Louis 2005; Ang, Hawkins & Dabboussey 2008; Appignanesi 2010a; Fisher 2010; Lowe 2005). To substantiate this concern, it is useful to explore how cultural diversity is represented in the arts environment, which, as earlier noted, has been a significant contributor to the formation of multiculturalism in Australia and beyond. Initially, Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   24 the acknowledgement of diversity was an exciting shift in art and cultural politics, welcomed by those who felt rigid identity categories failed to acknowledge the variances and tensions within and across identities. However, the meaning and use of cultural diversity has more recently come under scrutiny.  According to Aaron Seeto (2011, p. 28), cultural difference in Australian contemporary art has tended to be either overly-determined or entirely absent. In many cases, cultural difference continues to be unrepresented, or if it is present, misrepresented; taken up according to certain rules, which are governed by the normativity of whiteness. Several art critics agree that this issue has emerged because the application of ‘cultural diversity’ in Western society has been of a reactionary nature, that is, a mere ‘tool’ or ‘sector’ of politics aimed to address the changing ethnic constituency of Western countries (Appignanesi 2010a, p. 5; Araeen 2010a, p. 44; Fisher 2010, p. 62). This reactionary application has meant, as Seeto (2011, p. 28) argues, that cultural diversity in Australian curatorship has taken up the somewhat empty multiculturalism rhetoric of needing to ‘“build bridges”, cross cultures and engage new audiences’. Ultimately, such rhetoric serves the dominant culture, which demands that the relevance of culturally-diverse art be repeatedly elucidated. Fisher explains that this has the potential to place the artist in ‘a straightjacket of conformity that, on one hand, risks crippling artistic creativity, and on the other, confines them to a limited range of “thematic” shows and critical discourses’ (2010, p. 63). Araeen takes up a similar argument with regard to liberal multiculturalism in Australia (2003) and the Western context at large (2010a). Although he acknowledges the success of younger generation artists as a result of multiculturalism, Araeen believes it has meant their work has come to represent a ‘cultural specificity’: ‘only meant for those who are considered “others”’. Consequently, this allows for ‘the colonialist separation between people based on racial or cultural difference’ to be ‘openly institutionalised and maintained’11 (Araeen 2010a, p. 43). Thus, although “cultural diversity” provides a space for ethnic Australians to explore and express their differences in a 																																								 																				11 The threat to creativity is clear. If artists gain entry into the contemporary art circuit because of their ethnic/racial labels—seen as ‘cultural relevant’ in this present context of ‘culturally-diverse arts’—how do those artists detach from this category? This is an issue many contemporary Australian artists face, as illustrated by my interview with Paula do Prado following her feature in Sensorial Loop: Tamworth’s Textile Triennial (2011) and her solo exhibition, Mellorado (2012a). As do Prado emerges into contemporary art circuits and collectors become increasingly interested in her work, she becomes exponentially aware of (and anxious about) the expectations pertaining to the ‘culturally-diverse aesthetic’ of her work (2012b, interview, 22 Mar). Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   25 contemporary setting, it continues to ignore that ‘culture within itself is already an assemblage of differences, diverse tendencies and unresolved tensions’ (Appignanesi 2010a, p. 5). The creation of the culturally-diverse space also risks preventing genuine movement towards an integrated and inclusive arts and cultural ecology. While the multicultural subject is now present in the arts, it may remain transparent, that is, it might be “seen” but not necessarily engaged with (Papastergiadis 2005; Mercer 1999). Such an argument is depicted by the continued failure of ethnic artists, including those of Asian, African-Caribbean, and African origins to be recognised as contributors to the history of European art itself (Araeen 2010a, p. 53; Hall 2002a, p. 80). Such an issue illustrates the persistent racism of the European arts industry, as well as the duplicitous work done by the discourse of cultural diversity. By focussing on the celebration of diversity/difference in art, the discourse diverts attention away from the continued racialisation of its history and systems, inexorably ignoring the influence of ethnic artists (Appignanesi 2010a, p. 10). According to this logic, critics like Appignanesi and Araeen feel that the turn to cultural diversity in artistic practice and curatorship has been deceptive. The issues raised by the critique of ethnic diversity in Western art circuits can be translated to the cultural diversity turn in Australian multiculturalism. First, it presents the issue in which recognition based on racial/ethnic difference designates a particular, bordered space of the multicultural person and positions this person outside the white, monocultural centre. Cultural diversity has, overall, been charged with a social engineering task, designed to “solve” the “problem” of ethnic difference in Australia. The idea that cultural difference causes trouble consequently shadows all aspects of cultural diversity policies and initiatives. The concern here is that cultural diversity in contemporary Australia (along with the notions of “celebration of difference” and “ethnicity as choice”) is deployed in a way that inevitably perpetuates racist realities for Australians. In the discourse on cultural diversity the culturally-diverse person becomes diverse in accordance with ethnic or racialised categories. The critical dialogue and interaction designed to be opened up by cultural diversity subsequently becomes focussed on the multicultural person as distinct from the white Australian. Graeme Turner’s (2008) analysis of Australian inner-city suburbs supports this, arguing that ‘the accoutrements of cosmopolitanism are ever more self-consciously displayed, [and] cultural diversity has now become a local service, rather than an organic attribute of the local community’ (2008, p. 573). Multicultural studies that do not address this problem risk reinforcing the binary that they intend to critique. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   26 Critical multiculturalism studies address the binary tension more thoroughly, and form what this research has identified as the second key approach to studies of cultural difference in Australia. Critical approaches to multiculturalism have been present since the 1970s; however, as mentioned above, the 1990s saw the emergence of new critical analyses of cultural difference that were indicative of new postmodern cultural theories. Pioneers of this work in Australia include Gunew (1997), Papastergiadis (1995, 1999), Hage (1998), and Ang (2001). Recently, this foundational critical work has been added to by scholars interested in the ecologies of twenty-first century migrant communities. Unlike migrant communities of the post-war period, which involved larger, diasporic migration, new communities of Australian migrants develop from a fragmented mix of people. The communities exhibit highly diverse demographics, including varying economic and cultural capital and fluctuating attachments to notions of home (Ang 2011; Noble 2011; Yue & Wyatt 2014, p. 224). Some scholars argue that the complexity of contemporary migration has triggered different formations of racism, and have thus set about mapping ‘neo-racism’ or the ‘post-racial’ (Yue & Wyatt 2014, pp. 224-225). This work draws on the 1990s scholarship of Étienne Balibar, which posits that debates about multiculturalism and immigration are impacted by a new form of racism that is formed on the basis of cultural rather than biological differences. Yue and Wyatt (2014, p. 225) argue that new racism surfaced in Australia in the 1970s, following the arrival of multiculturalism, and has been in a constant state of change ever since. Significantly, they claim that ‘[t]he old racism that deemed non-Anglo and Celtic others biologically inferior is replaced by the cultural racism of new racism’ (Yue & Wyatt 2014, p. 225). Ethnic minorities are increasingly seen to have cultural differences completely incompatible with the dominant Anglo community, and thus pose a threat to the nation (Corlett 2002 cited in Yue &Wyatt 2014, p. 225).  In some ways this argument is not dissimilar to that put forward by Hage (2014a) in his depictions of two main forms of racism: 1. Existential racism and 2. Numerological racism. Hage (1998) argues that most of the racism experienced in post-Second World War Australia is based on the perceived scale of “the Other”. In other words, this racism arises when the presence of the Other seems large enough to engulf white Australia. Existential racism, on the other hand, is a racism of disgust, and more like the biological forms of racism categorised as ‘past’ forms of racism by neo-race and post-racial scholars. Existential racism is the type of racism Jean-Paul Sartre (1948) describes in his analysis of anti-Semitism, in which a person is repulsed simply by being in proximity of a person from another race. Hage (2014a) argues that Sartre’s conception of racism was most evident during Australian colonisation, as demonstrated Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   27 in nineteenth-century representations of Indigenous Australians and Chinese migrants. This dissertation argues that numerological racism has always crossed over with existential or biological racism. Chinese migrants who arrived for the gold rushes became abject subjects according to a biological racism which deemed “Oriental” skin to inherently carry malice. But, the intensity of this abjection was also related to the perceived scale of the “malice”—namely, the numbers of Chinese migrants arriving were seen to be so high that domestic miners would be undercut or pushed-out of the labor market.12  Today, it can appear as if numerological racism is prominent because of the regular condemnations of cultural or religious practices, but the sense of entitlement that drives these racist attacks inevitably leads us back to a perceived biological or existential superiority. While the trigger for racism is perhaps a numerological presence, the foundation of the racism remains the assumptions associated with racialised bodies. As will be demonstrated in Chapters Three, Four, and Five, it rarely takes long for racialised tropes associated with biology and the physicality of the body to surface. This is perhaps why Hage sees existential racism as being once again on the rise in Australia, particularly towards recently arrived African and Indian migrants (2014a, p. 233); that is, because existential racism has never not been present, it is just more adept at camouflaging itself in narratives of cultural diversity. Christine Kim (2014, p. 316) supports this argument, suggesting that race and racism continue to operate largely through a visual register, emanating an ‘eerie familiarity’ with older narratives and ultimately encouraging us to ‘conceptualise race as a biological phenomenon clearly inscribed onto the body’. As such, liberal contemporary societies like Australia are able to purport that racism is now ‘a matter of either personal prejudice or part of a historical moment that we have now transcended’. She extends:  																																								 																				12 Australian diggers turned against Chinese workers on the Bendigo goldfields as early as 1854, even though at this point the Australians outnumbered the Chinese fifteen-thousand to two-thousand; similar incidents were experienced in New South Wales, for example, at Rocky River in 1856, where a group of white miners attacked a newly-arrived group of Chinese (Price 1974, pp. 68-69). Anti-Chinese sentiment intensified as more Chinese migrants arrived, a reaction parallel to the growing fear of a mass-takeover by the ‘vast numbers’ of the Chinese (Hansard 1881 in Huttenback 1972-3, p. 282). Supporting the miners during this period were circulating newspapers such as Empire, which warned of the threat posed by ‘that swarming hive of the human race’ (Price 1974, p. 79). In 1855, the Victorian Governor and Legislative Council accepted the Royal Commissioners recommendation for an entry tax into the goldfields, designed to ‘check and diminish’ the Chinese influx (Report of Commissioners on the Gold Fields [1854-55] cited in Price 1974, p. 69). Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   28 As a means of sketching out a cultural narrative about the overcoming of race in the past century, the move from the hypervisible to the invisible simultaneously expresses the dangers of race (to mark indelibly as well as to be circumvented by those that ‘pass’) as well as operates as the cultural grammar that structures many of the racial discourses in the contemporary moment. In the framework of liberal multiculturalism, the individual becomes the mechanism for overcoming racism with the common-sense belief that if one is colour-blind and incapable of seeing race, he or she cannot be guilty of racism. And yet, even if we want to believe this claim that many are now incapable of ‘seeing’ race, how do we understand their inability to sense race at work in the current moment? And to anticipate the latter part of my argument, how are they also able to ignore the pungent stink of racism? (Kim 2014, p. 318)  Kim’s conceptualisation of race in the twenty-first century is an effective interpretation of Balibar’s (1991, p. 21) concept, which argues that it is at ‘first sight’ that neo-racism appears to be removed from old or biological racism. At first sight it can seem as if contemporary racism emerges only when an ethnic Other’s cultural or religious practices are deemed intolerable. After all, if ethnic Australians adopt Anglo-Celtic Australian values they can be awarded what Stratton (2009, p. 16) refers to as ‘honorary whiteness’, or become, in Rosanna Gonsalves term, ‘de-wogged’ (2011 in Khorana 2014, p. 258).  But, being able to bypass explicit racism via ‘symbolic whiteness’ (Khorana 2014, p. 260) does not demonstrate the eradication of historical forms of racism. Being an honorary white is not the same as being a “real” white—at any moment the acclaim can be, and often is, stripped from the ethnic Australian whose body inevitably renders her inauthentic (see Ahmed 2000, p. 97; Ford 2009, pp. 171-173; Stratton 1998). Ultimately, these new critiques of multiculturalism that argue cultural racism has replaced historical forms of racism are problematic and as such this dissertation does not adopt their methodologies. Perhaps more useful for mapping today’s migrant communities is the emergent field of everyday multiculturalism, a contemporary form of critical multiculturalism that responds to the renewed demystification with multiculturalism that has surfaced in the past decade. Although the field is gaining traction across the world, it is primarily located in Western contexts, in which a perceived gap exists between how multiculturalism is managed and conceptualised and how multiculturalism is actually experienced in daily life. Australian scholars, most notably, Melissa Butcher, Anita Harris, Greg Noble, Scott Poynting, and Amanda Wise are pioneering everyday multiculturalism, giving the trajectory of the field a particularly Australian orientation. The field is interested in exploring how practices of everyday life shape and re-shape identities, and how this relates to the broader terrain of Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   29 multiculturalism (Wise & Velayutham 2009a, p. 3). The 2010 special edition of Journal of Intercultural Studies, ‘Pedestrian Crossings: Young People and Everyday Multiculturalism’, succinctly summarises the field as having a focus on:  (1) everyday practices of intercultural encounter and exchange (the “doing” of multiculturalism); and (2) sites and spaces where tensions and possibilities around multicultural community and nation building occur (the places where multiculturalism is done) (Butcher & Harris 2010, p. 450).  The need to specifically examine the everyday practices and sites of multiculturalism is linked to a feeling of disconnection between official discourse and on-the-ground experience.13 Jon Stratton (2011) illustrates how the dominant culture interprets this feeling of disconnection as a residue of migrant culture, feeling that Australian life has been undermined or overrun by non-Anglo-Celtic Australians. This sense of disconnection is also evident in the fact that racism is perpetually experienced in present-day Australia, despite Australian multiculturalism being celebrated as a national accomplishment. Recent empirical research on young people and everyday multiculturalism demonstrates this polarity. The research shows that incidents of racialised tension put a daily stress on ethnic youth, either because of mistranslations of language, fear of being harassed for dressing or looking a particular way, and/or the social expulsion of ethnic youth from public areas (see Butcher & Harris 2010; Frisina 2010; Harris 2010; Noble & Poynting 2010; Rathzel 2010). Countless studies have pointed to this gap, and ultimately raise the question: are we doing multiculturalism in our day-to-day lives in a way that is removed from both the political and theoretical ideal of multiculturalism? Indeed, even though the above examples suggest that the disconnection manifests in negative fashions, Anita Harris (2010) illustrates that this is not always the case. There also appears to be some detachment between the governmental idea of multiculturalism as a united Australian identity and the positive interactions that occur on the street in spite of diverse and fragmented identity alliances. As Harris (2010, p. 582) notes, young people create ‘spatial communities’ which often go beyond ‘expected ethnic and gender belongings’. They do so because of ‘everyday debates, disagreements and encounters’ (Harris 2010, p. 582). These tensions emerge over cultural differences, but they ultimately create ‘the foundation for productive and ongoing 																																								 																				13 A feeling indicative of the distrust that has been expressed towards globalisation and technological revolution, in particular towards rapid digitalisation, increased mobility, and the fragmentation of networks. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   30 dialogue and engagement with others as equals’ (Harris 2010, p. 582). In other words, Australian youths demonstrate positive intercultural exchange not only in spite of difference but because of it. The sense of equality and conviviality that can emerge is not, therefore, based on the managerial claim of a “unified” Australian identity or way of life.  The perceived need for a new field of study is compounded by a perception that a similar gap exists in multiculturalism literature. As Noble (2009, p. 46) claims, theoretical discussions of multiculturalism tend to focus on identity categories that are inadequate to discuss the complexity of ethnicity, and the politics of multiculturalism also struggle to service this complexity. Noble (2009, p. 46) goes on to suggest that this problem is created because intercultural encounters are not recognised as such; they are “just done”. Many scholars are attempting to bridge the so-called gap by researching the diversity of multicultural experiences of daily life (see Butcher & Harris 2010; Ford 2009; Frisina 2010; Gow 2005; Harris 2010; Ho 2011; Phillips 2001; Rathzel 2010; Wise 2009; Wise & Velayutham 2009a & 2009b).  Although everyday multiculturalism is a new field of study, the attempt to critically examine on-the-ground aspects of multiculturalism certainly is not. Everyday multiculturalism has been used under different guises for over two decades in academic scholarship (Wise & Velayutham 2009a, p. 3). The work of Ang, Essed, Hage, and Stratton has explored the dynamic between ordinary citizens and multiculturalism discourse in various ways for several years. For example, Stratton (1999, 2011) explores the dynamic between citizens and multiculturalism, and Philomena Essed’s (1991) notion of ‘everyday racism’ has also been highly influential. Hage’s White Nation (1998) took up a critical analysis of the wider discourses at play in constructing the fantasy of multiculturalism, arguing that although the lives of migrants in Australia may have driven the policy formations of multiculturalism, their lives remain mis- or under-represented. It is also clear that although aspects of theory and policy have not always addressed the on-the-ground tensions at play, sub-set policies, programmes and organisations have been consistently aware of these issues and have attempted to engage them in various ways. In their study of Australia’s multicultural and multilingual broadcasting service, SBS,14 Ang et al. (2008, p. 50) note that the broadcaster’s latest platform fed into the popular theory of multiculturalism for everyday life: ‘warts and all’. SBS’ 2004–2006 Corporate Plan aimed at ‘a more mundane and everyday multicultural spirit’ (Ang et al. 2008, p. 50).  The current work of everyday multiculturalism builds on these foundational studies of everyday cultural life. The first attempt to map the small, but growing field is carried out by 																																								 																				14 SBS (Special Broadcasting Service) began with radio but has since extended to television and online formats. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   31 Amanda Wise and Selvaraj Velayutham (2009b) in the edited book Everyday Multiculturalism. The collection includes essays from sociology, cultural studies, literary studies, and political science. Common to all approaches is the underlying use of everyday multiculturalism as a way to problematise multiculturalism as both a policy-driven concept and a lived experience. Wise and Velayutham (2009a, pp. 2-3) identify eleven sub-themes of this problematisation, as follows: 1. Habitus and cultural capital; 2. Embodiment, reciprocity, gift exchange, and social exchange; 3. Affect and the senses; 4. Humour; 5. Everyday exchanges and transformation; 6. Hybridities and the notion of being “together in difference”; 7. Everyday racism and tensions; 8. Notions of civility and incivility; 9. Networks; 10. Material culture and modes of consumption; and 11. Power and interplaying discourses. These subthemes are certainly not mutually-exclusive, and several overlaps exist between each one. Sites of study typically include spaces deemed reflective of everyday life, for example, housing and neighbourhood planning projects, food rituals, ethnic precincts, education, crime, and youth participation in public space and life. This research frequently adopts a constructivist approach and almost always incorporates the use of empirical data.  M e e t i n g  i n  t h e  M i d d l e :  F r a m i n g  t h e  S t u d y  o f  E v e r y d a y  M u l t i c u l t u r a l i s m    This dissertation adopts the second approach to multiculturalism studies, one that is critical and focussed on the complicated manifestations of cultural difference in Australian life. It does, however, qualify this approach in a few particular ways. Specifically, it wants to retain a focus on the phenomenological underpinnings of racialisation, and the embeddedness of this in multicultural life. It also stresses the interconnectedness of State and everyday manifestations of multiculturalism more explicitly.  Although the work on new racisms offers a range of sound insights, it risks discounting the impact that “old” racialised concepts continue to have on the “new” ethnic body. The appeal of moving beyond biological racism is understandable; after all, science, the discursive regime initially used to “prove” the concept of racial inferiority and superiority, has long since reassessed and disproved this claim (Olson 2004, p. xvii). Furthermore, the shifts from race to ethnicity, and then from ethnicity to cultural diversity, have been taken up relatively quickly and Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   32 seamlessly in the public imagination of Australia, leaving “race” a less common and certainly less contemporary word. As Stratton (1998, p. 104) argues, multiculturalism tends to be blurred with non-racialism, so that  the very statement that Australia is now a “multicultural nation” is often implicitly put forward as evidence that the notion of a “white Australia” is no longer current in the national imaginary, as if the adoption of multiculturalism were by definition an act of anti-racism.   Reflecting this perceived shift, anti-racist and critical race work is frequently carried out at sites deemed to be ‘cultural’, such as language, public engagement, or artistic practice, and this further reinstates the belatedness of ‘race’. However, this dissertation will argue that since racist violence continues in Australia in both physical and conceptual ways, multiculturalism studies cannot yet take the leap away from historical formations of race. In doing so, it adopts Hall’s (2000) and Gunew’s (2004) trepidation about the cultural turn in ethnic and race studies. Both argue that the old mindset of racialised hierarchies continues to haunt the discourse of multiculturalism and its spin-off terms.15  A study conducted by the Human Rights and Equal Opportunities Commission (HREOC) in 2003 helps to explain such trepidation. The study, reported on in Paul Tabar’s, Greg Noble’s, and Scott Poynting’s book: On Being Lebanese in Australia: Identity, Racism and the Ethnic Field (2010), illustrates the way historical formations of race continue to vilify Australian bodies in the twenty-first century. The study included the results of one-hundred and eighty-six surveys of Arab and Muslim Australians16 in New South Wales, which asked whether participants had experienced racist abuse or violence since September 11, 2011. If so, the details of these incidents, including the participants’ reactions and whether or not the incidents were reported, were also requested. Following the survey, thirty-four of the survey respondents participated in face-to-face interviews in which the details of the abuse were extrapolated. The participants covered a range of ages, socio-economic demographics, and religious denominations (Tabar, Noble & Poynting 2010, p. 150). Two-thirds of the survey 																																								 																				15 See also Ang and Stratton (2011) regarding the lack of language to describe a racism based on “race” in Australia. 16 It should be stressed that terms such as Arab and Muslim Australians, and related terms used in this thesis, e.g. Lebanese Australian, are slippery, and are used interchangeably at times. The identity politics and cultural embeddedness of these terms should not be overlooked.  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   33 sample reported having increased experiences of racism, and ninety-three percent felt there had been an increase of racist attacks against their ethnic or religious community at large. The cited incidents included: ‘minor incidents of social incivility, discrimination at work and in other institutions, media stereotyping, verbal abuse and harassment, threats of violence and sexual assault, stalking, actual physical assault (such as veil-tearing and stabbing), [and] property damage’ (Tabar, Noble & Poynting 2010, p. 150).  Significantly, seventy percent of participants who had experienced racism listed the perpetrators as white, Anglo-Australian citizens, for example: “Australian”, “Aussies”, “Anglo”, “Anglo-Saxon”, and “English” (Tabar, Noble & Poynting 2010, p. 151). When identifying what they felt to be the main reasons for the attacks, the participants frequently cited a mixture of racial, ethnic, and religious factors, including language, phenotype, and cultural presentation and dress. Ultimately, these reasons were ‘collapsed into a general sense of difference that is implicitly an expression of difference to an unstated white, Anglo-Australian-ness’ (Tabar, Noble & Poynting 2010, p. 151). As Tabar, Noble and Poynting (2010, p. 151) argue, these reasons point to embodied forms of cultural capital that mark these Australians as belonging to a non-white community, visually distinguishable from Anglo-Australians. Thus, while racism is certainly associated with cultural or religious practices, the racism continues to be translated through an embodied or biological prism which marks non-white bodies as less human.  These findings are reaffirmed in many other studies, even though the materiality of whiteness is not necessarily their focus. For example, Noble’s (2005) work on comfort illustrates the visceral impact of Australian racism; Harris’ (2010) and Noble and Poynting’s (2010) studies respectively show ways the non-white body is racialised and physically surveyed in public life, so too Maree Pardy’s (2011) analysis of the Muslim woman in public space as a figure of cultural difference. The dissertation thus sets itself the task of examining how the work of biological racialisation continues in contemporary Australia, albeit under new practices and guises.  One of these guises may well be the renewed emphasis on cultural diversity. In many ways, the term cultural diversity has replaced multiculturalism as the new buzzword for contemporary Australian cultural life, in such a way that multiculturalism has become a more assumed or background component of the nation. However, despite this apparent shift, the dissertation argues that little has changed in the way Australia organises race since the initial inception of multiculturalism in the 1970s. Many critics believe that the Prime Ministership of John Howard led to the devolution of multiculturalism, but as Nicolacopoulos and Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   34 Vassilacopoulos (2011, pp. 148-149) argue, Howard’s policies merely exposed the racialised power imbalances embedded within multiculturalism that had until then remained mostly hidden. This dissertation extends their contention into the twenty-first century of multiculturalism politics, arguing that underlying the deployment of cultural diversity there remains a highly restrictive and familiar structure of normative whiteness. Two elements of this structure remain steadfast. First, the assertion of central white Australian values over the values of “ethnic others”, as the master of cultural diversity’s success. Second, and not unrelated to the first, there is the ability to gloss over everyday incidents of racism that occur in Australia daily.  The current structure of managerial multiculturalism thus repeats several issues raised in the 1990s by Hage, and taken up again by Povinelli in The Cunning of Recognition (2002). Povinelli’s book critiques Australian multiculturalism, arguing that by operating via the framework of liberalism it concedes the perpetual disavowal of cultural difference. Although Povinelli’s critique of liberal multiculturalism is in relation to the way it ‘emerges in Indigenous societies and subjects’, it provides a useful tool for questioning the inconspicuous deployment of race in contemporary forms of cultural diversity and multiculturalism. Povinelli notes that those fighting the cause of liberal multiculturalism are genuinely interested in the “good” of the ethnic subject, in a similar way that support for multicultural programmes are most often propelled by genuinely good intentions. However, her critique draws our attention to the way limits of tolerance are implicated in the pursuit of this “good”, a point that Hage (1998) also takes up persuasively. Povinelli (2002, p. 52) writes:  The nation truly celebrates this actually good, whole, intact, and somewhat terrifying something lying just beyond the torn flesh of present social life. And it is toward this good object that they stretch their hands … What is the object of their devotion?17   In the following chapters, the dissertation illustrates that the ‘object of their devotion’ is a material body, in particular, the nation’s ability to demarcate and vivify the white body as distinct from the non-white body. This claim extends both Povinelli’s and Hage’s arguments that the object of devotion is the maintenance of dominant whiteness. In his seminal project on 																																								 																				17 There is something significant in this outstretched hand, and is comparable to the discussion of the hand reaching to tear off the burqa that Hage (1998) undertakes in his chapter in Arab-Australians Today (2002a). The outstretched hand is taken up again in Chapter Five as a metaphor for the corporeal performativity of race.  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   35 Australian multiculturalism, Hage (1998) argues that the needs-based model of multiculturalism was replaced by a white middle-class cosmopolitanism that positioned cultural diversity as a commodity for elitist consumption. As such, he claims that “tolerant Australians” fighting for “good multiculturalism” may have the best intentions, but in fact there is no such thing as tolerant and intolerant practices: both perpetuate the same racist underpinnings (1998, p. 93). ‘Those who execute [tolerant practices], “good” as they are, share and inhabit along with White “evil” nationalists the same imaginary position of power within a nation imagined as “theirs”... [T]hey enact the same White nation fantasy’ (1998, p. 79). In this sense, those fighting the cause of liberal multiculturalism cannot be easily distinguished from those that Hage terms ‘Hansonites’, or other white Australians with overtly racist attitudes. Hage recognises that Pauline Hanson and many of her supporters really believe they are not racist.18 Combining an approach of ethical reflexivity and a critique of inconspicuous deployments, Hage not only considers how nationalist practices embed these ideas but, importantly, how they incorporate the ideas of those he finds less racist. Namely, what are the conditions that constitute these supposed “more or less” levels of racism? Similarly, Povinelli (2002, p. 52) suggests that instead of writing Hanson off as racist because her ideas seem repellent, we should, in fact, ponder them seriously.19 Both Hage and Povinelli are here pointing to the importance of what Gunew (2004) calls the ‘shifty work’ of multiculturalism, and our need to be persistently critical of it.  It is important, therefore, to carefully analyse the work that gets done in the name of multiculturalism and/or its counterpart cultural diversity. This is especially the case as multiculturalism and its related domains retain their status in the imagined community of contemporary Australia. A recent study conducted by Nikos Papastergiadis, Audrey Yue, Rimi Khan, Danielle Wyatt, and Ghassan Hage at the University of Melbourne (2014) found that 																																								 																				18 Pauline Hanson began her political career as a councillor for local government in Queensland, Australia. In the mid-1990s she was elected into federal parliament as an Independent. In 1997 she founded One Nation, a populist, right-wing political party with an anti-Indigenous rights and anti-multiculturalism platform. The party disbanded a few years later but Hanson’s political aspirations and involvement have continued into the present moment. Hanson reformed One Nation in November 2014. The Australian public has also welcomed Hanson as pseudo-celebrity over the years, exemplified by her participation in the popular competition television series, Dancing with the Stars (2004) and The Celebrity Apprentice (2011).  19 See also Ang (2001, p. 158):  What if we were to do the unthinkable and agree with Hanson that there is something fishy about the nation’s enjoyment of ancient Aboriginal traditions? About the national celebration of a social law preceding the messiness of national history? About the tacit silences surrounding the content of Aboriginal traditions? Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   36 new migrants to Melbourne and greater Victoria continue to use the language of multiculturalism, explicating a keen desire to become an active part of Australia’s multicultural society. The research indicates that the personal identities of many new migrants are intrinsically linked to the institutional construction of multiculturalism; how these migrants construct an understanding of their Australian subjectivity moves in and around this discourse. This relationship occurs in spite of multiculturalism’s critics and its waning popularity as a keystone governmental policy. Maree Pardy’s and Julian C.H. Lee’s (2011) empirical research further supports this point, noting that Australian immigrants and refugees frequently ‘claim multiculturalism as their space’ (2011, p. 300). In particular, multiculturalism is viewed as the space in which they can attain belonging and identification with the nation, a type of guarantee for their future Australianness (2011, pp. 300-301). The dissertation thus maintains the use of the term multiculturalism, positioning it as a prevalent contemporary phenomenon that cannot be overlooked. The personal-public relationship involved in forming a multicultural subjectivity gives rise to another key aspect of the dissertation’s approach to the study of everyday multiculturalism. Namely, the framing of everyday multiculturalism as interrelated to systematic or governmental realms. Some everyday multiculturalism scholars have a tendency to position everyday cultural encounters as removed from institutionalised frameworks of cultural difference. Paul O’Connor (2010, p. 526), for example, views everyday multiculturalism as ‘miles ahead’ of policy initiatives. This structure also arises in some discussions about the role of community-based or culturally-diverse art as a cultural process emancipated from governmentality.20 In his analysis of cultural diversity in Britain, Araeen (2010a, 2010b) argues that the ‘diversity of cultures’ and ‘diversity within’ art should be seen as two separate things, calling for a separation between art and other elements associated with cultural diversity, such as traditions and heritage. While Araeen feels diversity is a ‘fundamental’ rather than an ‘add-on’, he holds the idea of the ‘free-thinker’ close to his chest—believing that art has to be completely separated from culture and its institutions and policies to allow for truly creative and progressive works (Araeen 2010b, p. 18).  Cultural difference and multicultural interactions certainly occur beyond policy, however, this dissertation argues that the distinction between these two realms cannot and should not be made so clearly. Trying to separate the culturally-diverse artist or multicultural 																																								 																				20 Rimi Khan’s (2011) Ph.D. thesis, Reconstructing Community-Based Arts: Cultural Value and the Neoliberal Citizen critically problematises this association. See also: Hawkins (1993) and Andreas Huyssen (2007).  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   37 subject from institutions and/or policy overlooks the set of relations that pre-exist and exceed beyond the artist or multicultural person. Certainly, the check-list approach to cultural diversity creates a series of presuppositions for art practice and its outputs, but gaining an exterior of culture and its critique is, by definition, an impossible task. We can only come to know “ourselves”, after all, by giving the “I” over to a set of terms which exist before and beyond us (Butler 1997a, pp. 196-197). A separation of any sort is, as Butler (2009, p. 44) writes, a ‘function of the relation, a brokering of difference, a negotiation in which I am bound to you in my separateness’. Furthermore, arguing that we need to separate things into distinct fields to find ‘true creativity’, or, as O’Connor (2010) argues, to analyse the ‘real’ realms of multiculturalism, fails to critically consider the productive work that occurs within the institutions of both art and multiculturalism. As Butler (2009, p. 149) outlines, institutions and the State are able to establish ‘ontological givens’ through certain operations of power, which are ‘precisely notions of subject, culture, identity, and religion’, and the versions of these often remain ‘uncontested’. The State and the institutions of multiculturalism should not be at the centre of analysis since power operates in ways and means that ‘precede and exceed’ (Butler 2009, p. 146) it; but, it is still an element that contributes to the assemblage of the ethnic subject and the wider terrain of cultural diversity. As Tabar, Noble and Poynting (2010, p. 156) stress, the everyday experiences of racism are not excluded to the realm of the individual or the personal—racist attacks are always validated by the dominant sociality to some degree, ‘either by other citizens or by various institutions, and especially those of the state’. Christopher Bowen’s (2011) speech, The Genius of Australian Multiculturalism, helps to illustrate the public-private entanglements within the discourse of multiculturalism and ultimately the multicultural body that this dissertation examines. As the Minister for Immigration and Citizenship under the former Gillard Labor Government, Bowen addressed parliament to officially reinstate Australia as a multicultural nation. The speech is noticeably sanguine; exaggerating the successes of Australian multiculturalism and ignoring its problems, and ultimately giving it no new vision or reassessment. Echoing John Howard’s 1999 agenda of “One Australia”, Bowen proclaims that the success of Australian multiculturalism is attributable to the way it allows other cultures to enjoy their own cultural values, but always ensures ‘respect for traditional Australian values’ is retained at its core. According to Bowen, this has allowed Australia to escape the perils that other multicultural nations, such as Canada, Germany, and France, have experienced. Bowen suggests that the complex debate over language in Canada, the “parallel lives” produced in Germany, and the race riots in France have been the results of Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   38 a lack of encouragement for integration, and/or an ill-defined multicultural policy. This latter comparison with France is particularly disturbing since it was only recently that violent race riots occurred in the Southern-Sydney suburb of Cronulla21. As the dissertation will argue in Chapter Three, racism was an underlying factor of the Cronulla riots, made explicit by the specific uses of the white male body during the public stand-off. By making a point of the tensions in other countries, but denying those present in Australia, Bowen perpetuates Australia’s long-standing denial of racism and its failure to acknowledge the history and contributions of non-white Australians to the country. A comparison can be made to Hage’s (2002b, p. 9) argument regarding the lack of ethical consideration for Arab-Australians during the Gulf War. Hage describes how media reports of the war made no gesture towards the Arab-Australian community, an absence he attributes to the fact that the ethnic community was not ‘considered worthy of a pause’ (2002b, p. 9). The failure by Bowen to include a pause for the on-the-ground tensions of multiculturalism indicates a repeated performance of an entrenched racism. Namely, he gives the nation a multicultural imaginary while simultaneously denying the everyday reality of the multicultural subjects that the imaginary claims to include. This denial or absence of a pause directly impacts the way ethnic bodies perceive themselves, and ultimately the choices they make from day-to-day. The empirical research carried out for the aforementioned HREOC (2003) project found, for example, that one of the significant reasons victims of racism do not report racist incidents is due to a belief that racism is accepted by the majority of Australians and the country’s core institutions (Tabar, Noble & Poynting 2010, p. 159). When retelling their experiences of racism, many participants mentioned the lack of intervention and care from onlookers or witnesses. This apathy was felt even though the attacks often took place in public areas, such as roads, transportation, shopping centres, or at work (Tabar, Noble & Poynting 2010, p. 159).  																																								 																				21 Although a Southern-Sydney suburb, Cronulla is imbricated with West Sydney, an area known for its pronounced multicultural constituency. “Mark”, a young man involved in the Cronulla riots, explains this spatial-social connection:		You've got the surrounding suburbs like Bankstown, Hurstville, Lakemba, they're all west and they're also connected by the train line that goes into Cronulla. Also, that's their local beach as well. And pretty much out there it’s a lot of Middle Eastern culture. There's definitely—there’s a lot of Middle Eastern people out there...from Lebanon, wherever (Four Corners 2006). 			Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   39 The lack of intervention by individuals and representatives of institutions (police officers, politicians) fulfil ‘the collective nature of mechanisms of conversion’, or the active process through which bodies are marked as human or otherwise (Tabar, Noble & Poynting 2010, p. 159). Immediately after the Cronulla riots the Prime Minister of the time, John Howard, denied they were a result of racism; a denial Bowen reaffirms years later in his 2011 multiculturalism speech.  C o n c l u s i o n  This chapter problematised the term cultural diversity and its current deployment in the discourses of Australian multiculturalism and arts practice. It described how the twenty-first century emphasis on cultural difference was initially viewed as progressive for the goal of greater inclusivity in Australian life. It then went on to show the concerns that have been increasingly proffered by cultural studies scholarship and art critiques, in particular, regarding the underlying motives of the diversity turn.  A brief overview of governmental and theoretical forms of multiculturalism indicated that questions of white managerialism continue to plague both the conceptualisations and material implications of multicultural life. Drawing on Hage (1998) and Povinelli (2002), and highlighting the residue of biological racism in multiculturalism discourse, the chapter argued that materiality needs to be fore fronted in analyses of cultural difference. The chapter thus aligned itself with the latter of two identified approaches to multiculturalism studies, namely, a critical multiculturalism as opposed to a focus on multiculturalism as a positive and celebratory phenomenon. Specifically, the chapter described its intended contribution to the field of everyday multiculturalism, a new field with a particularly Australian orientation. The chapter qualified the dissertation’s definition of everyday multiculturalism to include an attentiveness to the ways in which everydayness and institutional spaces are interrelated. It is suspicious of the idea that cultural encounters “just happen”. The chapter argued that, although the dissertation intends to maintain a focus on the messy middle section of multicultural life (where everyday practices and formalised encounters interact), deliberately trying to fill in a perceived gap between the everyday and the systemic could be counterproductive in deconstructing the racialised body.  Essentially, the dissertation intends to follow Butler (2009, p. 146), by drawing attention to a tension between: Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   40  (a) expanding the existing normative concepts of citizenship, recognition, and rights to accommodate and overcome contemporary impasses, and (b) the call for alternative vocabularies grounded in the conviction that the normative discourses derived from liberalism and multiculturalism alike are inadequate to the task of grasping both new subject formation and new forms of social and political antagonism.   Indeed, this tension is how this dissertation positions everyday multiculturalism: as a scholarship that attempts to create an alternative form of multiculturalism, one that deals with the limiting notions of identity, as well as the problems of detachment that liberal multiculturalism creates. As this chapter demonstrated, some approaches to multicultural studies claim that the answer to this predicament lies either in the reduction of the multicultural subject ‘to a single, defining attribute’, or, in ‘the construction of a multiply determined subject’ (Butler 2009, p. 147). This either/or tendency is exemplified by Araeen (2010a, p. 34) who asks:  The question remains: what do we really want? Should we adopt a model of cultural diversity that brings us all together in a cohesive whole, or accept the attitudes that promote the division of society into unrelated fragments?  The “answer” need not be one or the other, since both still do not address fully the question of the human and how these approaches foreclose possibilities for the subject. As Butler (2009, p. 147) remarks, if we continue to employ an approach of one or the other, then ‘[we cannot be sure] we have yet faced the challenge to cultural metaphysics posed by new global networks that traverse and animate several dynamic determinations at once’.  The chapter illustrated that there are micro and macro/private and public levels to the normalisation of racism—on the ground in which the racist altercations or tensions take place, and within the broader systems of power and sociality that support (sometimes simply by overlooking) these incidences. Tabar, Noble and Poynting (2010, p. 159) emphasised the importance of this relationship, ‘crucial not just because of the ways in which it structures the fields of significant social power … but because it also shapes the forms of conversion in everyday life’. Perhaps the most problematic aspect of arguments like that posited by Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   41 O’Connor and Araeen is their failure to consider the productive work that occurs between the “on-the-ground” cultural differences and the institutions that drive it.  A multiculturalism that is critical and attuned to the complicated cross-overs of private and public discourses must be utilised in order to adequately navigate the conjuncture of Australian cultural difference in the twenty-first century. The following chapter turns its attention to digital storytelling, a genre in which the nation and the ordinary multicultural body overlap. 	  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   42 CHAPTER TWO: Austral ian Digital  Storytel l ing as a Site of Everyday Mult icultural ism  …story has many jobs, as a learning modality through memory, as a way to address our connection to the changing world around us, as a form of reflection against the flood of ubiquitous access to infinite information, as the vehicle to encourage our social agency, and finally, as a process by which we best make sense of our lives and our identity.…Story is essentially an exercise in controlled ambiguity. And given the co-construction of meaning between us as storytellers, and those who are willing to listen to our words, this is story’s greatest gift….We can feel whole about impermanence. We can bear to be ourselves. —Joe Lambert (2013, p.  14,  i ta l ics  added),  creator of the digi ta l  s torytel l ing model  Digital storytelling has become the new ten pin bowling! —Cathy Horsley (2014)  I n t r o d u c t i o n   The formation of everyday multiculturalism is indicative of a broader shift in contemporary cultural studies to analyse local, mundane, and “unofficial” aspects of cultural difference. As outlined, the dissertation is interested in examining how everyday multiculturalism manifests in arts practice, due to the frequent use of cultural diversity within this space. Digital storytelling is a useful example of the intersection between everyday multiculturalism and the arts, and becomes the focus of the case study analysis in this dissertation. Digital storytelling has a number of definitions, but all generally refer to ‘combining the art of telling stories with a variety of digital multimedia’ and almost all digital stories combine a mixture of digital graphics, photographs, text, audio narration, video, and music to present a particular idea or theme (Robin 2006, p. 1). With the increased capacity and accessibility of media technologies, together with what Papastergiadis (2012b) and Ien Ang, Elaine Lally, Kay Anderson, Phillip Mar and Michelle Kelly (2011, p. 4) describe as a move away from the gallery or museum as the ‘place’ of art, digital storytelling has become a feature in both amateur and professional art Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   43 practice. Foregrounding “on the ground” happenings or everyday life, digital storytelling is deemed accessible and voice-enabling for all. As will be demonstrated, there is a common assumption that there is less external manipulation of digital stories; that they are more transparent than other forms of screen media. As such, the genre tends to be considered a truer or “more real” representation of daily life. This assumption becomes particularly relevant for a study in everyday multiculturalism, as many Australian digital stories target cultural diversity or migration as core themes. By analysing digital stories pertaining to these themes, this dissertation considers what it is that digital storytelling can reveal about everyday multiculturalism, and—just as importantly—what it conceals about the experience of cultural difference. Some scholars, such as Carolyn Handler Miller (2004), approach digital storytelling with a broad definition that includes such things as mobile technologies, gaming, and device apps. However, the literature reviewed here commonly understands digital storytelling as a narrative-based medium that blends still photography, home video, sound, and voice narration into a hyper short “film”, edited to emotively tell an individual, first-person story. The genre has its roots in the Center for Digital Storytelling (CDS) in California, but quickly spread to Australia and the United Kingdom at the start of the twenty-first century. It has since been adopted in other parts of the world, including Western Europe and South Africa. While the CDS began working on a model for digital storytelling in the 1990s, it was not until after the turn of the century that it began to take off as a screen genre.  While other forms of new media storytelling can be found in various locations,22 the CDS is responsible for defining digital storytelling as a specific genre that has proliferated globally. A genre can be understood as a set of texts that share characteristics in content and form. The content and production processes of CDS’ digital storytelling model, as well as the high level of users who have adopted it, allow the model to be understood as a genre of new media (Kaaire 2012). Birgit H. Kaaire (2012, p. 20) describes the genre of digital storytelling as ‘surprisingly stable’, noting that the core CDS model remains intact in most digital story projects (and even those that rework the model do not stray too far from its basic principles and characteristics). In Kaaire’s (2012, p. 20) view, this can be attributed to the way the model has been taught and re-taught in facilitated environments according to the initial framework developed by the CDS. Digital storytelling projects have certainly bourgeoned in Australia, 																																								 																				22 These range from social networking sites such as Facebook and Ello, to v-blogs and online broadcasting communities such as Video Blogger and YouNow.  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   44 beginning with ACMI, the Australian Centre for the Moving Image. ACMI has trained not only the public but also other trainers, who have gone on to train communities, organisations, and—inevitably—more trainers. This method of facilitated training has significantly lessened the demand on ACMI to teach people how to use the model. Increasing numbers of organisations have adopted the model and today use it in a purely in-house fashion (Simondson 2012a, interview, 16 Nov). Jean Burgess (2006) terms the crossover between traditional communicative practices and new consumer/media practices as ‘vernacular creativity’ (2006, p. 207). Burgess’ use of vernacular creativity is important because it resists the temptation to discuss digital storytelling in binary terms, that is, between the notion of digital storytelling as ‘authentic, folk culture’ and digital storytelling as ‘mass media’ (2006, p. 206). Instead, ‘vernacular creativity … includes, as part of the contemporary vernacular the experience of commercial popular culture’ (Burgess 2006, p. 207). Situating the genre as the product of shifting popular cultures is relatively unique, as much of the digital storytelling literature equates digital storytelling with a pre-existing form of ‘age-old storytelling’, which acts to legitimise the authenticity of the voice (see Higgins 2011; Rodriguez 2010; Skouge & Rao 2009). The link between digital storytelling and folk culture is often made in the literature as a means to add weight to the overarching argument that digital storytelling is a “truly” democratising medium. Or, in other words, to argue that voice is more naturally enabled in digital storytelling than in other media forms because it relies on a common-place or universal form of sharing. In this way, it sets up a binary between digital storytelling and mass media culture. This chapter provides a historical overview of the philosophical underpinnings of digital storytelling, beginning with the CDS, and the methods used to produce both individual and collective digital stories. It then provides a literature review of the genre, identifying the main theoretical approaches to studying digital storytelling, as well as the common benefits and issues associated with it. The chapter uses this work to consider the similarities and/or differences in the ways everyday multiculturalism has developed as a field of inquiry compared to the ways in which digital storytelling has developed as an arts media practice. In other words: how does the discourse of everyday multiculturalism reflect (or otherwise) the themes, goals, and methodological considerations of digital storytelling? What aspects of everyday multiculturalism does the digital storytelling medium replicate, or differ from? By combining this work with Chapter One’s analysis of multiculturalism studies, the chapter concludes by mapping out a Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   45 theoretical framework for analysing digital stories pertaining to cultural diversity. This framework will inform the case study analysis that occurs in the following chapters.    H i s t o r y  a n d  D e v e l o p m e n t  o f  D i g i t a l  S t o r y t e l l i n g    During the mid-nineties, Joe Lambert developed a model for new media storytelling that would enable ordinary people to share their personal stories by harnessing new internet and computer software technologies.23 During this era, now referred to as ‘the dot.com bubble’, internet technologies grew rapidly. This period saw the swift development of web browsers, such as the World Wide Web, and the provision of new online sites and software from dot.coms (web companies). People’s capacity to connect with others and share information in the virtual domain increased dramatically (Castells 2001). This time was, in a way, a bridging period whereby previously favoured formats for recording and sharing personal stories began to edge into the online world. For example, people (mostly in developed, Western countries)24 began to send emails to each other instead of hand-writing and posting letters, and online word blogs began to replace the traditional diary or travel journal, acting as digital sites where people could journalise their experiences. Many people also became interested in developing sites dedicated to tracing and sharing family trees, slowly eroding the popularity of the conventional printed family tree document. Nonetheless, while web publishing tools were increasingly opening up for non-technical users, most people did not, as Helen Simondson (2012a, interview, 16 Nov) of ACMI explains, have the skills to adequately use them.  The particular setting of technological growth and everyday documentation interests allowed Lambert to create a successful storytelling platform. Ordinary people were attracted to his model, which blended familiar forms of personal documentation (such as the home video) with new online forms (such as the video blog) in a user-friendly format. The success of digital storytelling can also be attributed in part to the renewed popularity of the memoir in both 																																								 																				23 Lambert, originally from Texas, pursued theatre before venturing into new media and digital storytelling. He directed the People’s Theatre Coalition in San Francisco, a networking and advocacy hub for local theatres, before forming Life On the Water, an experimental theatre organisation that supported community-based artists (Lambert 2013, p. 29).    24 In accordance with the development of technologies that was concentrated in the developed, Western world.  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   46 literature and online narrative that took place in Western cultures in the late twentieth and early twenty-first century. The popularity of these genres was, as Nancy K. Miller and Jason Tougaw (2002, p. 2) describe, indicative of an overall move to document, study, and share trauma narratives and cultures: ‘we’ve become accustomed in American culture to stories of pain, even addicted to them; and as readers (or viewers), we follow, fascinated (though as many profess disgust), the vogue of violent emotion and shocking events’. Narratives of extreme experiences soon folded into narratives of ‘everyday trauma’, or, the mundane traumas of daily life that had previously been overlooked. Formerly private testimonies of trauma and everyday life consequently edged further into the public realm (see Cvetkovich 2003, 2007). The public was drawn in by the ‘emotional appeal of the true story’, leading to what Miller and Tougaw (2002, p. 2) describe as the ‘triumph of the memoir’.  Digital storytelling complemented the renewed interest in everyday stories, appealing to the ordinary person’s ‘desire to document life experience, ideas, or feelings through the use of story and digital media for digital storytelling’ (CDS 2012, online, 15 April). Digital storytelling attempted to democratise media and public stories, rooting itself in movements pioneered by folk cultures and the activist traditions of the 1960s (Lambert 2009, p. 26). Lambert saw these traditions as ‘inherently sympathetic to human experience … [seeking] ways to capture their own and other’s sense of the extraordinary in the ordinary comings and goings of life’ 25 (Lambert 2009, pp. 26-27). By explicitly targeting the emotions of these ordinary experiences, digital storytelling was able to gain the attention of the public, hoping, as most memoirs did at the time, to produce new relationships and form empathetic communities of daily life. As Miller and Tougaw (2002, p. 2) describe, the drive for personal testimony was related to the desire to create ‘an identity-bound shared experience’, or, at least, ‘one that is shareable through identification’. The basic paradigmatic principles underpinning the particularities of the digital storytelling form and process reflect Lambert’s goals to democratise media and empower everyday stories. These principles are outlined by Lambert as follows: 1. Everyone has many powerful stories to tell; 2. Listening is hard; 3. People see, hear, and perceive the world in different ways; 4. Creative activity is human activity; 5. Technology is a powerful instrument of creativity; and 6. Sharing stories can lead to positive change (CDS 2012, online, 15 Apr). 																																								 																				25 The use of the word ‘sympathetic’ as opposed to ‘empathetic’ is significant, and reminiscent of elitist forms of cosmopolitanism that circulate in some cultural theory. The use of sympathy, as it relates to shame and good feeling, is addressed in Chapter Five.  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   47 Although Lambert suggests that people experience the world in different ways, it is clear that he believes storytelling allows these differences to be reconciled, or at the least, provides a space for positive communal action and relationship building. These principles suggest that some elements of telling and receiving stories are common for all people; that while there might be different ways to experience the world, the ways we use stories to share these experiences is universal.  Guided by this humanistic philosophy, Lambert seized on new media developments and expanded the field of everyday memoir production in a way he deemed universally translatable. Lambert believed that in order to create a space for this type of human translation, the medium would require certain attributes. In the latest edition of his book Digital Storytelling: Capturing Lives, Creating Community (2013), Lambert suggests that digital stories need to be personal stories that the author is deeply attached to, and that can be told in the first person. These first-person stories should reflect an actual experience—a moment or series of moments—which become scenes that convey the emotions experienced and work to draw the viewer into the story. Importantly, this narrative occurs as a voice-over in the author’s own voice. Additionally, the stories should seem ‘self revelatory’, as if the author is sharing an insight that she herself has just discovered, ‘giving the story a sense of immediacy and discovery’ (Lambert 2013, p. 37).  There is an emphasis on the position that creative activity is human activity. For this reason, pre-existing visual archives, such as family albums and home videos, are used to inspire people’s stories and the narrative is told in the author’s own voice—delivering what Mead (1934 cited in Kaaire 2012, p. 19) describes as ‘me’ or ‘I’ stories. While stories can and should use moving image where effective, Lambert argues that the use of still images in small numbers remains popular due to its ability to ‘create a relaxed visual pace against the narration’ (2013, p. 38). From an audio perspective, music and sound effects are used to assist the translation of meaning and enhance the impact of the story upon the viewer. Kaaire (2012, p. 19) explains that basic production software (formerly various Adobe programmes) is used to add a soundtrack, image pan (movement of pictures across the horizon), and zoom effects.  The emphasis in digital stories is on a minimalist production and stylisation:  The stories may use feature sets available in digital video editors, but they are taught as minimally, and so used as minimally, as possible. The emphasis is a raw, more direct feel, with pans and zooms to provide Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   48 emphasis, dissolves to soften cuts, and once in a while the use of compositing or other special effects (Lambert 2013, p. 38).  Another aspect of this minimalistic approach is the length of the digital story—ideally it is two to three minutes long and never normally longer than five minutes. Lambert (2013, p. 38) notes that brevity was initially necessary because the digital stories had to be workshopped, but now it has become ‘the nature of the artifact’—suiting the internet-based distribution and also setting the beginning storyteller an achievable goal.  Finally, Lambert claims that ‘intention’ is an important aspect of the digital story. The CDS model puts process before product, that is, it ‘privileges self-expression and self-awareness over concerns of publication and audience’ (Lambert 2013, p. 38). This is an important point to flag at this moment for, as will be discussed in due course, it seems to be the case that the relationship between product and process is not as clear-cut as purported here, and the existing tension between the two has never been resolved by the CDS or other practitioners of the genre. Lambert argues that while the product may go on to have a significant impact or reach a larger audience, the intention of the model is to honour the individual’s storytelling process, allowing the author control over the story and its distribution. The desire to ensure the storyteller has this kind of agency ‘informs all choices about participation, [and] ethics-in-process’ (Lambert 2013, p. 38).  The proliferation of the digital storytelling genre is tied to its step-by-step methodology, termed ‘The Seven Steps of Digital Storytelling’. This methodology is relatively easy both for facilitators to teach and for participants to follow. Lambert claims in the latest edition of his book that he never intended these steps to act as a “must do” guideline (2013, p. 54). Practitioners have tended to follow the steps strictly, especially in the early years of the genre. The methodological process is unique to the digital storytelling genre; indeed, the methodology is what makes it a genre: ‘digital storytelling is presented not only as a genre but also as a method’ (Kaaire 2012, p. 22).  The methodological steps are: 1. Owning Your Insights; 2. Owning Your Emotions; 3. Finding the Moment; 4. Seeing Your Story; 5. Hearing Your Story; 6. Assembling Your Story; and 7. Sharing Your Story (Lambert 2009, pp. 29-47). The first step is to establish the type of story to be told in the digital story. According to Lambert, a good digital story will also serve as a medium through which the storyteller can or does move through a process of self-discovery. Step two tracks what emotions appear as the author shares and prepares their script, so as to Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   49 identify which narrative aspects convey the emotions most effectively for the digital output. Essentially, the author is urged to ask: which emotion(s) will be easiest to trigger in the viewer, and the most effective in translating the meaning of the story? It is suggested that by remaining aware of your emotions the story will emit genuineness, demonstrating to the viewer that ‘you believe in your story’; that you are really ‘“in” [your] story’ (Lambert 2009, p. 58). This point is addressed in depth in Chapter Five, which closely examines how affective elements of digital stories are implicated in the performativity of whiteness and/or ethnicity. The third step of the methodology is designed to help the author identify a moment of change that will act as the pinnacle point of the story, and as the moment around which to build the story’s scenes. In Step Four, visual presentation and imagery become relevant. Lambert describes images as the ‘metaphorical river of meaning’, which can be used in a number of ways to ensure the reader ‘jumps in’ to the river to gain an understanding of the story and the storyteller (Lambert 2009, p. 60). In Step Five, Lambert encourages authors to think about how others will hear their narrative. He encourages authors to tell the story in simple language, with as few words as possible, and ideally in a way that they would recreate the story to a group of friends—“off the cusp”. Authors spend time looking over their scripts to ensure the words in the narrative are used carefully and help to convey the appropriate feeling and idea.26 This step in the methodology is also where the author identifies what sound effects and music might complement the story and how these elements can be adjusted to change the pace and mood of a given moment. In the sixth step, the author takes all of the above considerations and collections and assembles the digital story. The moment of change identified earlier is now placed within the timeline of the story and scenes are created by organising the images and sounds. The author’s narration is recorded and layered with sound effects. Finally, the author presents the digital story with the rest of the workshop group. This finishing step is considered crucial for providing the participant with feedback and a sense of achievement. Lambert’s methodology was designed to function as a type of journey, and often workshop participants become invested in each other’s stories—eager to see how they “ended”. The seventh step is thus viewed as the pinnacle moment of transformation, where the destination of the story is realised for the author. 																																								 																				26 This technique seems to contradict the way the story scripts are carefully crafted during the workshops—after all, people do not closely edit their day-to-day monologues before speaking them. Lambert wants the highly-polished and edited stories to sound as if they were casual, unedited stories. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   50 The subjects performing the digital stories are disciplined according to these methodological steps, which aim to ensure the finished product is persuasive and engaging. The stories are created with a specific audience in mind, for example, a family, community, or organisation, and usually entail some level of distribution via the internet (Meadows 2003 cited in Kaaire 2012, p. 17). It is, in Kaaire’s (2012, p. 19) words, ‘akin to radio-with pictures’, made up mostly of still pictures and thus not identifiable as a movie as such. There is an understanding that in order to grab the viewer’s full attention, certain techniques are required, and these ultimately rest on appealing to certain human or “universal” instincts and inclinations. This is thus a performance that is directed in certain ways, and it also, as Smaill (2010, p. 138) writes regarding documentary, ‘establishes the presence of the performing subject by directing our attention to that subject’. The constructed presence of the viewer is bound up with certain fantasies of the self and the Other and, as will be illustrated later, affects the ways in which the bodies involved in the digital performance are articulated. Today, two main types of digital stories can be identified in Australia: individual digital stories and collective digital stories. Individual stories refer to the conventional definition, as listed above. The dissertation uses the term ‘collective digital stories’ to refer to digital stories that are created by a community or group of people over a long period of time. Projects that incorporate collective digital stories do not rigidly administer the Seven Steps of Digital Storytelling, though still utilise several aspects of this framework. The collaborative stories tend to be much longer in length and combine the artistic outputs created in a variety of workshops.   L i t e r a t u r e  R e v i e w  o n  D i g i t a l  S t o r y t e l l i n g   The majority of the literature on digital storytelling is published from 2005 and offers a positive assessment of the genre. Common arguments are that the genre allows for equitable knowledge sharing, “gives voice” to ordinary people, and boosts participants’ confidence by transferring a range of visual literacy and life skills. However, despite the overall positive reviews, some authors contest the efficacy of the genre, especially when practiced according to the CDS model. As will be discussed, these tensions are indicative of the broader critical gaps identified in the literature, and that become particularly relevant because of the way participants are often articulated as ethnic Others. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   51 The most common argument in the literature is that the genre can open up a space for equitable knowledge sharing, or to “give voice” to ordinary people. Illustrations of this argument are seen in the names of the digital storytelling projects featured in the literature. For example, London’s Voices (Thumin 2009 cited in Copeland & Miskelly 2010, p. 194); A Centre of Voices from Ohio 2003 (Klaebe 2006, p. 25); Silence Speaks (Reed & Hill 2010) and The Pacific Voices Program (Skouge & Rao 2009). Definitions of voice are rarely provided in the articles, but it can, generally, be read as referring to the capacity to share personal stories with others. The ability to share personal stories is intrinsic to the digital storytelling genre. The autobiographical outcomes are shared with others in both private circles (family and friends) and public arenas (community groups, organisations, online). The opportunity for digital storytelling to provide “voice” is also attributed to the Story Circle, step one of the digital storytelling methodology, in which all project participants gather together and share script ideas. The Story Circle is viewed as a safe space where storytelling participants can share something personal. The participants subsequently gain suggestions from others in the Circle about how to develop their respective narratives in a compelling way. Many scholars suggest that this interaction gives participants validation: the authors are assured that their stories have meaning and value, and this ultimately contributes to a stronger sense of self, or identity. Thus, the digital storytelling model involves speaking in one’s literal voice for the audio narrative, but this speaking is also representative of a metaphorical “speaking up” by one’s subjectivity, whereby participants in digital storytelling programmes can be heard by others, and recognised as a valid subject. Indeed, some scholars repeat Lambert’s (2006) suggestion that sharing in the Story Circle acts as a kind of therapeutic telling (for example Higgins 2011, p. 8; Raimist, Doerr-Stevens & Jacobs 2010; Reed & Hill 2010, p. 270).  The provision of voice has much to do with the technological nature of the digital storytelling model, which was specifically designed to be accessible and relatively easy for lay people to master. Lambert developed the model in such a way that people with minimal technological skills would be able to grasp basic image editing and sound layering and create an effective, moving image mini-film. This accessibility is also increased by the availability of the software used for digital storytelling, described by Higgins (2011) as ‘pro-sumer’, and being relatively easy to obtain. Some researchers argue that by allowing people to build their digital story using personal artefacts, such as personal photos, arduous research work and content construction is cut down, making the creative process less daunting (Simondson 2012a and 2012b; Alexandra 2008). This aspect of the digital storytelling method is also not too far Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   52 removed from memory practices of the ordinary person, as it utilises similar techniques to the compiling of a family album or framed photo collages. Those new to digital storytelling can find this familiarity useful for creating stories. It follows then that the genre is frequently described in the literature as a ‘scrapbook studio’ process (Kaaire 2012, pp. 19-20).  The literature suggests digital storytelling gives voice to marginalised peoples in a mostly uniform manner, regardless of the group in question, or the discipline of the literature. The reference to the provision of voice in education literature, for example, frequently parallels how cultural studies and community development literature discuss voice. Scholars such as Monica Nilsson (2010) work within an education framework to examine the importance of digital storytelling for marginalised students in education classrooms. Nilsson (2010) illustrates how digital storytelling appealed to nine-year old Simon, who, diagnosed with Tourette’s syndrome, was often highly agitated and uninterested in classroom activities. Simon enthusiastically engaged with digital storytelling, finding it easier to construct self-narratives with the use of images, sounds, and music. According to Nilsson, Simon was motivated by the autobiographical aspect of digital storytelling and felt “heard” when he shared and explained his digital narratives with teachers and peers. The creative and multimodal aspect of digital storytelling is also welcomed by Althea Scott Nixon (2009) who argues that it expands the category of ‘literacy’ in a way that allows students more opportunities to learn in ‘their own way’. They might, for example, struggle to write a narrative in words, but find effective ways to do so visually (see also Jamissen and Skou 2010). This argument is mirrored in the cultural studies work by Helen Klaebe, Marcus Foth and Jean Burgess (2007) who argue that digital storytelling provides ways to engage community members in public storytelling, allowing authentic, agentive selves to be included in public history projects (see also Bromley 2010). The anthropological work of Peter Anton Zoettl (2013) further touches on the ways in which the multimodality aspects of participatory video can bring to the surface new awareness of cultural contexts and encourage confidence in identity formation.  While the ability for digital storytelling to give voice is considered relevant for all ordinary people, the literature commonly celebrates its ability to give voice to those people deemed marginalised or silenced in public discourse.27 Marginalised groups of people discussed in the literature include: migrant groups (see, for example, Scott Nixon 2009; Wexlar, Love, Flanders Cushing, Sullivan & Brexa 2011;); youth, especially those considered ‘at risk’ (see 																																								 																				27 This sets up an interesting paradox, in which people identified as “other than ordinary” become the target group for an ‘ordinary’ storytelling practice. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   53 Podkalicka and Campbell 2010); members of the LGBTIQ community (see Borghuis, de Graaf & Hermes 2010); AIDS sufferers and others with disabilities (see Reed & Hill 2010; Skouge & Rao 2009); religious or ethnic minorities (see Lee-Shoy & Dreher 2009; Reed & Hill 2010); aged members of society (see Davis 2011); and those in low socio-economic sites or suburbs (Davis 2011; Podkalicka & Campbell 2010).  Many scholars working in education pedagogy or youth development agree that ethnically-diverse young people can benefit from sharing stories via digital storytelling. Bernard R. Robin (2006) flags the link between digital storytelling and ethnicity and race specifically when discussing the genre’s educational uses in the multicultural classroom. Robin (2006, p. 2) argues that digital stories that focus on personal narratives provide students with an opportunity to learn about people from different backgrounds, gaining ‘an appreciation of the types of hardships faced by fellow classmates’. He also suggests that sharing autobiographical experiences through new media shortens the distance between local-born and foreign-born students, encouraging empathy and connection. In turn, digital storytelling is seen to assist teachers in facilitating discussions about issues ‘such as race, multiculturalism and … globalization’ (2006, p. 2). Of note, is how Robin sees this process as providing foreign students with ways to negotiate some of the emotional, familial issues which emerge from sharing their experiences; that is, as providing an outlet to speak and ease some of the tensions of being Other. It is worth mentioning that Robin does not expand this point, nor his earlier one regarding the hardships experienced by foreign-born students, which ultimately suggests that all culturally-diverse people have some hardship or emotional issues pertaining to their identities. Well-intentioned commentary no doubt, but, as seen in many multicultural studies and programmes, it once again reads as if all culturally-diverse people can be delineated as a unified group with homogenous experiences. Emily Wexlar Love, Debra Flanders Cushing, Margaret Sullivan and Jode Brexa (2011) report their findings on a research project which examined the impact digital storytelling had on a group of ESL teenagers in the United States. The scholars developed a project in which university students worked with teenage students attending an English school to create digital stories about their particular experiences. The project grew out of research which indicated that American youth are commonly the subject of negative stereotyping, an occurrence amplified if the youth are culturally or linguistically diverse (CLDY). The project aimed to counter these negative stereotypes by providing an avenue for CLDY to ‘find their voices’; an aim concluded to have been met (Wexlar Love et al. 2011, p. 98). Andrea Quijada and Jessica Collins Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   54 similarly illustrate that standard curricula in New Mexico does not provide space to address adequately ‘marginalized young people and their respective communities’, and assumes all students have uniform learning styles and needs (2009, p. 165). Quijada and Collins’ research thus explores media frameworks that allow marginalised members of communities to build, create and exchange knowledge. Such work is added to by James R. Skouge and Kavita Rao (2009), Amber Reed and Amy Hill (2010), and Karen Rodriguez (2010) whose works attempt to use digital storytelling in the classroom to tell authentic, everyday stories of culturally-diverse youth, and counter common misunderstandings of cultural minorities.  The approach to voice in classroom-based digital storytelling is paralleled in the literature that discusses digital storytelling in reference to culturally-diverse communities at large. Darcy Alexandra (2008), Sarah Copeland and Clodagh Miskelly (2010), Dylan Davis (2011), John Higgins (2011), Tiffany Lee-Shoy (2009), and Rosalie Rólon-Dow (2011) all begin their digital storytelling work based on the premise that the genre will give voice to culturally-diverse members of the communities they work in. Alexandra’s (2008) research, for example, examines ways that digital storytelling can be successfully used to provide a platform for undocumented migrants in Dublin, allowing them to share their experiences with others and feel less hidden or invisible. In an Australian context, Lee-Shoy and Dreher (2009) and Davis (2011) work in Sydney and Melbourne respectively on digital storytelling projects aimed at allowing culturally-diverse community members to both counter and/or add to mainstream media messages and community meta-narratives. This voice-oriented approach also appears in US-based Higgins’ (2011) exploration of digital storytelling in culturally divided Cyprus, research that has links to Reed and Hill’s (2010) digital storytelling project in East Cape, South Africa. (See also Hancox 2012; Lovvorn 2011; Rolón-Dow 2011.) The majority of the literature suggests that the ability for digital storytelling to enable voice for culturally-diverse people is enhanced by the medium’s simultaneous ability to build capacity. ‘Capacity’ here refers to the possession of skills that enables further learning, contact, and critical engagement within social contexts. A lot of the literature argues that by following the digital storytelling methodology, participants practice technology-based tasks while simultaneously developing research, planning, and inter-personal skills (see Copeland & Miskelly 2010; Podkalicka & Campbell 2010; Reed & Hill 2010). Capacity building is an obvious justification for its increasing popularity in education curricula, but it is also used to petition for the use of digital storytelling in community development work. Those working with marginalised communities argue that the digital storytelling process allows storytellers to not Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   55 only find their voice but to practically implement it. Burgess (2006, pp. 209-210) summarises this when she writes that digital storytelling mobilises literacies that ‘cross the divide between formal and informal learning’, comprising learned skills such as computer usage and the ability to construct an effective narrative, with the more familiar modes such as collecting and arranging texts (like scrapbooking) and telling an effective story (as learned in daily social interaction). It is a process of ‘remediation’ that allows everyday experiences to be transformed into a shared public culture: ‘creativity in the service of effective social communication’ (Burgess 2006, p. 210). Several authors discuss this transfer of learned skills into public sharing. Wexlar Love et al. (2011) describe how producing digital stories enables migrant minorities to acquire ‘authentic language’, as they practice speaking, listening, writing and reading in English alongside their first languages. In turn, digital storytelling is seen to give them the confidence to speak more often in their daily lives.  Scott Nixon’s (2009) study found that migrant students’ digital stories often researched social issues that they saw impacting on their own communities, such as domestic violence. They then creatively interpreted these issues and imagined possible solutions to them. This process was seen to build the students’ ‘sociocritical consciousness’, which could then be applied in real life settings (2009, p. 72). Similarly, Reed and Hill (2010) argue that the digital storytelling process gave marginalised youth skills in computer usage and public speaking, providing them new avenues to advocate for their needs beyond the project. Jamissen and Skou (2010, p. 183) found that because the creation of digital stories is a mostly shared process with a final screening, participants were motivated to ensure they could feel proud of their stories. The skills acquired in digital storytelling are thus frequently linked to the capacity to act and feel like a legitimate member of society.  These positive aspects of digital storytelling are troubled by some studies that draw attention to a few underlying problems. The issues of digital storytelling identified in the literature can be grouped into four main categories: timeframe of the production process; flexibility of the digital storytelling model; skills transfer; and identity construction. Many authors flag a problem with the intensified nature of the digital storytelling workshop model, suggesting that it can prevent participation and restrict meaningful creations. Indeed, in a lot of the literature, researchers altered this aspect of the digital storytelling process, allowing the workshops to be spread out over a number of weeks, or even months (Copeland & Miskelly 2010; Davis 2011, pp. 530-534; Hancox 2012; Podkalicka & Campbell 2010; Rodriguez 2010; Watkins & Russo 2009; Wexlar Love et al. 2011).  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   56 Often associated with the timeframe criticism is a concern about the general flexibility of the digital storytelling model, in terms of how rigidly or otherwise the methodological steps outlined by the CDS should be followed. Again, many scholars suggest that a pliable digital storytelling process produces more meaningful results (Davis 2011; Hancox 2012; Kaaire 2012; Scott Nixon 2009; Raimist, Doerr-Stevens & Jacobs 2010; Reed & Hill 2010; Rodriguez 2010; Vivienne 2011; Vivienne & Burgess 2013). Some authors, such as Donna Hancox (2012), argue that adhering to the genre’s steps can sometimes be impossible. Hancox’s project involved working with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples on personal trauma narratives. She found various aspects of the digital storytelling process inappropriate for the cultural setting. In fact, many of the project’s participants refused to participate in the Story Circle sharing, and diverged from the standard narrative structures and images of digital storytelling. Hancox’s project is an excellent example of the complexity of community-based work and the necessity of remaining self-reflexive as a facilitator. Allowing the process to move in slightly different directions produced for Hancox more meaningful results:   in the end, Simon created the most honest and searing portrayal of his life possible with the tools. But more importantly, the viewer is left with an impression, an echo of how Simon remembers his life. Rather than watching a narrative telling us about his life, the viewer instead experiences Simon’s memories and, perhaps, a brief glimpse into the suffering and grief he continues to endure. Thus, the story he created was more a digital process (of remembering, sharing, and even healing) than a digital product (2012, p. 71).   The same can be said for Vivienne (2011), who facilitated digital storytelling with a group of South Australians identifying as transgender. The way the trans-storytellers used digital storytelling tropes was, according to Vivienne (2011, p. 50), ‘divergent and complicated’, variations that ultimately led to stronger storytelling.  In contrast to the oft-cited argument of capacity building, some authors claim that the transfer of skills remains unachieved. Davis (2011, p. 539), for example, argues that while up-skilling participants in usable technology is a ‘central tenet’ of the digital storytelling model, his years of working with the genre had yet to achieve this. Davis is a university lecturer at Melbourne’s Swinburne University. In one of his classes he teaches his media students digital storytelling; they then work with elderly members of local communities to develop intergenerational stories. The project has been running for a number of years and is always Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   57 adapted according to the previous years’ outcomes. Yet, so far it has not had much success in transferring the media literacy skills to the elderly community members.  Another interesting point regarding skills transfer is raised by Anne M. Bjørgen (2010) in her classroom use of digital storytelling. She has observed that, while some students find the use of multimodal literacy engaging and excel at digital storytelling, introduction of the new media to those unfamiliar with it can further ostracise marginalised students (2010, pp. 171-172). This contrast can be linked to a socioeconomic background that restricts access to technology at home. For students from such backgrounds, new media technology can present a formidable challenge, compounded by having to work alongside students versed in digital literacy and who leap ahead. Bjørgen (2010, p. 172) observes that for these students, the introduction of the digital storytelling model causes them to withdraw further from the social setting.  Finally, some authors point to issues with the ways in which identity is framed by the traditional digital storytelling model. Aneta Podkalicka and Craig Campbell (2010) argue that there are reductionist features of the digital storytelling genre, namely, its use of human rights discourse that claims ‘identity recognition’ for all participants (see also Hartley & McWilliam 2009, pp. 14-15; Watkins & Russo 2009). The focus on the self in the digital storytelling process is considered to aid identity recognition, though, Podkalicka and Campbell (2010) argue that sometimes creating a “me” narrative has adverse effects for the participants. In their work with “at risk” youth, they found some participants responded in more positive ways when they were able to ‘talk about something else’ rather than themselves (Podkalicka & Campbell 2010, p. 8). Often, being able to create a digital story on a different subject saw the participating youth reach out to others to formulate collaborative, creative works, reducing the pressure to “be” a certain way and ultimately giving them a greater sense of agency as an active member of a larger community. Hancox’s (2012, p. 70) project with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples also came to a similar conclusion, finding that although narratives that embodied disconnections and uncertainty resulted in digital stories that did not look or sound conventional, the meaning of these stories was far greater for the storytellers and ultimately their ‘audience’. (See also Rodriguez 2010; Vivienne 2011 and Vivienne & Burgess 2013.) An example of an unexpected ‘multicultural’ narrative is explored in Chapter Seven. The four key issues that surface in the literature warrant further exploration, especially since the research literature on digital storytelling: a. often focusses on minority ethnic groups and; b. is produced mainly within a white, Western framework. The vast majority of the Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   58 literature is written from an Australian, American, or United Kingdom context. Where it does feature in other geographical contexts it is usually in Western Europe (see Kaaire 2012), or, in developing parts of the world as part of Western-based projects/social interventions (see Zoettl 2013). These patterns are hardly surprising given the roots of digital storytelling. Nonetheless, it is troubling to witness a high practice rate of digital storytelling and little critical work on how this practice implicates notions of ethnicity and race, notions that so frequently backdrop the projects.28  Perhaps one of the main reasons for this gap is the general lack of critical examination of the genre itself, as a mode through which certain norms are deployed. The positive claims of digital storytelling are rarely contextualised in a rigorous theoretical framework and explorations of suggested limitations or concerns are yet to be widely carried out. In many cases, the optimistic understanding of digital storytelling acts as an immediate assumption or beginning point. Richard Bromley, for example, asserts early in his study: ‘what distinguishes digital storytelling is the way in which it challenges traditional notions of region and community’ (2010, p. 10). This point acts as a framework for his analysis, rather than as a hypothesis to be tested. Similarly, Sarah Copeland and Clodagh Miskelly’s introduction of digital storytelling simultaneously functions as the justification for using it in community-based work: ‘Given the capacity of the CDS model (Lambert 2006) to be empowering to participants and to cross boundaries, it [digital storytelling] became central to the design of the intervention’ (2010, p. 194). As this statement exemplifies, assumptions about digital storytelling are often based on the founding literature of Lambert, which is problematic since he designed the model and defined it as inherently enabling and positive. Other scholars that start their work with the assumption that digital storytelling is an enabling text include Jessica Fries-Gaither (2010), Rodriguez (2010), James R. Skouge and Kavita Rao (2009), and, to some extent, Jamissen and Skou (2010). Compounding the assumptive quality of a lot of the literature, is the way in which digital storytelling engenders certain behaviours as commendable. Underlying the discussions about digital storytelling as a “tool” for voice is, after all, a notion of performance. Digital storytelling 																																								 																				28 As Tiffany Lee Shoy in conversation with Tanja Dreher (2009, p. 55) alludes to: how can we think about digital storytelling in narrative structures that are not Western? For Lee-Shoy, who works as a community development officer for Sydney’s Fairfield district, digital storytelling allows inter-cultural understandings of minority ethnicities, such as Khmer identity. Lee-Shoy feels it unfortunate, however, that to date she has been unable to utilise narrative forms and storytelling traditions of Khmer identity in the digital storytelling projects. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   59 can be read in many of the texts as a behavioural tool that optimises, facilitates, and negotiates participants’ performances. The literature emerging from education disciplines most frequently points to the productive ways the genre can guide behaviour in particular settings. These researchers commend digital storytelling for its ability to activate students’ awareness of cultural difference and how to adjust one’s actions accordingly. Skouge and Rao (2009, p. 55) are explicit about the performance aspect, arguing that the different modes of engagement that digital storytelling incorporates can help build ‘civic responsibility’. They expand:  An essential aspect of digital stories resides in the power of example—the power, that is, to project images of exemplary individuals who can influence other people and make a difference in their lives (2009, p. 55).  It is not made clear what terms like ‘exemplary individual’ or ‘civic responsibility’ refer to, but it goes without saying that these agendas will impact the participants’ digital storytelling process and their performance in this setting. Instilling responsibility or social performance etiquette is further illustrated by Grete Jamissen and Goro Skou (2010, p. 187), who use digital storytelling to train University of Oslo health students, in particular to teach them how to behave in culturally-diverse contexts.  In other settings, the framing of performance in digital storytelling is conveyed more subtly, for example, by encouraging participants to use particular images or narrative forms. Alexander’s (2008) project encourages participants to use personal images, despite concerns about anonymity, explaining that they would ‘more powerfully elucidate these stories’ and lend ‘proof’ to their narrative performances. Given these subtle pressures, it is hardly surprising that one participant in Alexander’s project changed his digital story at the last minute, feeling it wasn’t ‘migrant enough’ (2008, p. 106).  It becomes clear that participants undergo certain forms of behavioural ‘shaping’ when producing the voice of digital stories, an aspect that is addressed in detail in Chapters Three to Five. At the same time, it is clear that how and why this voice and performance are produced is mostly overlooked. Theo Hug’s (2012) article: ‘Storytelling – EDU: Educational - Digital – Unlimited?’ speaks to my concern that current digital storytelling literature overlooks some of the key, or—in Hug’s (2012, p. 20) term, ‘basic critical issues’ that the genre gives rise to. Hug provides an excellent account of digital storytelling through the lens of education and literacy, Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   60 but pauses early in the article to note: ‘In view of the rapid proliferation of concepts and practices of digital storytelling it seems acceptably [lit] to step back for a moment and look, how stories about digital storytelling are being told’ (2012, p. 17). After summarising some of the main forms of literature on digital storytelling, he, too, recognises that much of it fails to “step back”. Of particular interest for Hug is how the literature refers to digital storytelling as a type of toolkit, involving the circulation of associated words like ‘knowledge transfer’ and ‘education distribution’ (2012, pp. 19-21). Use of this terminology raises immediate concerns for Hug pertaining to Foucauldian notions of discipline and surveillance, in particular, Foucault’s theory of ‘technologies of the self’.29  For Hug, the ways in which we associate narrative with truth raises a critical ethical question. He writes:   This is not just about orientation, moral judgement and enjoyment, about factual or desirable limitations of the instrumentalization of storytelling, or about blurrings of local or global public and private spheres—this is also about the basic question of storytelling as “truth-telling” (2012, p. 21).  Hug (2012, p. 21) argues the political urges of digital storytelling projects are often hidden and need to be brought forth. He asks, how is power organised within the context of digital storytelling projects? Hug urges scholars to remain critically aware of the way any movement towards “truth” or knowledge sharing in digital storytelling is always a movement towards a particular truth and knowledge. As such he is wary of the genre’s frequent use of the term ‘self-determination’ and suggests ‘self-organisational’ might be more useful (2012, p. 22). These concerns are taken up at length in the following chapters, which examine the types of truth claims made in digital stories about multicultural subjects and the nation at large. In order to carry out this critical work, the dissertation draws on the handful of scholars who are rigorously engaging with digital storytelling in cultural studies or the social sciences. In 																																								 																				29 Foucault defines technologies of the self as the various ‘operations on their own bodies and souls, thoughts, conduct, and way of being’ that people undertake in the pursuit of a ‘state of happiness, purity, wisdom, perfection, or immortality’ (1988, p. 18). His earlier work outlined a genealogy of these technologies, focussing in particular on the practices of confession and ‘truth telling’ as means of self-discipline that inevitably produced what Foucault terms ‘docile bodies’ (Foucault 1977, 1978).  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   61 addition to Theo Hug, Australian scholars Jean Burgess, Tanja Dreher, Anna Poletti, and Sonja Vivienne examine digital storytelling with a view to consider not only the type of voice that gets enabled but the type of listening that occurs in response. Their work considers who gets to provide voice, how, and—importantly—to what end (Burgess 2006). This dissertation adds to their examinations by suggesting that in digital stories pertaining to ethnicity, the end pursued is a material one, inextricably linked to normative discourses of whiteness. Australian media and cultural studies scholar Tanja Dreher considers how race is tied up with notions of “voice”. Working from a political theory perspective, Dreher (2009, 2012) has urged media studies to interrogate notions of “voice” and the ways in which it detracts from listening. She argues that emphasising process in media democratising movements does not necessarily ‘challenge overall inequalities in how voice is valued, nor the unequal distribution of voice as a value within mainstream media and policy settings’ (Dreher 2012, p. 159). Further, the issues behind politicised stories are often not meaningfully or productively discussed (Dreher 2012, p. 163). For Dreher, an inquiry into the ‘politics of voice’ is vital, involving the destabilisation of media conventions at all levels—in the everyday spaces like digital storytelling, as well as the mainstream spaces.30  A prime example of why Dreher’s argument is so crucial is evidenced in Pauline Borghuis, Christa de Graaf, and Joke Hermes’ (2010) article ‘Digital storytelling in sex education: Avoiding the pitfalls of building a “haram” website’. The article reports on a Netherlands-based digital storytelling project developed by the authors to be used as sex education. The rationale for the project was that sex education in schools and complementary 																																								 																				30 This dissertation holds some concerns, however, about the politics of recognition that is utilised in Dreher’s work, and some others who investigate digital storytelling from a political science perspective (see, for example, Grossman & O’Brien 2011). Dreher (2009) uses the work of Nancy Fraser, Axel Honneth, and Judith Butler in conjunction with one another, suggesting that they each approach identity politics in the same way. Fraser and Butler are, however, in an ongoing debate about identity recognition. Fraser frequently criticises Butler’s use of theory as groundless, arguing that it lacks potential for legitimate political action (1989, 1997). Dreher’s reliance on Fraser is concerning because Fraser continues to enact the Master-Slave dialect in her work. The Master-Slave dialectic, as developed through Hegel, suggests that self-consciousness, or our understanding of ourselves as “individuals” can only come through the recognition of an Other. Thus, the Master can only be a Master if it is recognised by the Slave, and the Slave will, in turn, recognise itself only in relation to the Master. Spivak (2012, pp. 345-347) critiques Charles Taylor’s use of the Master-Slave dialectic in his politics of recognition theory, arguing that the recognition it allows remains implicated in a type of moral duty. (Ultimately, the recognition remains racist, albeit “good-willed”, recognition). The use of Taylor’s and Fraser’s political theories may reinstate a binary model that prevents the work from moving beyond an “us” versus “them” framework. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   62 websites was not appropriate for migrant groups, especially the high number of Turkish and Moroccan youth in Holland. Islam was the main religion practiced by the target group, and the authors argued that the religion acted as a cultural barrier to sex education and made the youth vulnerable to sex issues (2010, p. 236). They considered it their ‘responsibility to contribute to the emancipation of Muslim youngsters’ (2010, p. 236). While the authors had well-meaning intentions, the drive for the project clearly came from a white, Western set of beliefs. The authors acknowledged their position as ‘three middle-aged white women’, and yet still argued that the project was not in any way linked to questions of race or ethnicity; relevant only to gender norms:   A second danger in this project would be to either act or be perceived as ‘voyeurs’, hoping to exoticize ‘oriental Others’ … But this project has nothing to do with either voyeurism or colonialism … it is an old-fashioned feminist project (2010, p. 236).  The authors claim that this work has no impact or relevance to colonialism in spite of their later discussions of how they learned, as facilitators, to structure their sex-education narratives according to the ethnic community in question. Adding to this, the authors note the importance of having Turkish and Moroccan voices to work on the project directly. They explain, ‘[w]e were lucky to have our multicultural aware students at hand. Without them, it would have been far more difficult to achieve the current level of authenticity in the stories’ (2010, p. 243). The project clearly deployed certain notions of ethnicity and cultural difference—and it is impossible to project an idea of multicultural voices or ethnic needs without simultaneously making reference to the legacy of colonialism. There are thus some deeply embedded issues with their work pertaining to the ways in which white-centric feminism fails to consider its implicit position of power. To suggest that such a project has nothing to do with colonialism is, in this context, a violent act of neo-colonialism. Even though the digital storytelling project did produce some affirmative outcomes for Turkish and Moroccan youth, the ways in which “voice” and “listening” functioned at a political level to reinstate normative power structures is troubling. Encouragingly, some studies examine digital stories in relation to normative structures by using critical race theory (CRT). In a similar fashion to Dreher, Jason F. Lovvorn (2011) and Rolón-Dow (2011) use digital storytelling as a practical way of implementing CRT in everyday life. Such work relies on the argument that racism operates through the production and Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   63 reinforcement of normative metanarratives. These metanarratives are formed on the basis of white privilege and become the overarching historical story for nations and—because they are projected and reiterated so relentlessly—come to be seen as the founding truth of that nation. CRT attempts to deconstruct metanarratives of racialisation that have become embedded within organising structures in society—law, education, capital flows, public policy, and so forth. Lovvorn (2011, p. 97) argues that digital storytelling has three key characteristics that help to effectively spread alternative stories in society and, therefore, destabilise normative metanarratives. First, digital stories are mobile, moving beyond organisations and becoming circulated on the internet, where they are uploaded, streamed, played and forwarded. Second, they are personal, having the ability to ‘relate stories of the self in distinctive voices’. Third, they are connective, in that the narrations of the self help to create attachments between the author and the larger social world.  The work is important, but once again is in danger of assuming the mode of digital storytelling is external to the reproduction of racialised metanarratives. While the presence and power of metanarratives cannot be denied, the deployment of whiteness also occurs in micronarratives; in the margins themselves. Frantz Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks (2008) effectively demonstrates the ways in which false ideas about black persons become part of the collective unconscious, allowing racism to continue in a thoughtless, everyday manner. More than that, Fanon demonstrates that these false, negative projections embed themselves within the black person’s subconscious and are consequently lived by the black body as a material reality. This dissertation departs somewhat from the CRT-based work by closely examining how whiteness and the negative projection of non-whiteness infiltrates bodies in a way that is both macro and micro/public and private. As Butler (2009, p. 161) notes, any form of multiculturalism or culturally-diverse project that seeks ‘a certain kind of subject’ actually goes some way towards instituting ‘that conceptual requirement as part of its description and diagnosis’. In both cases, there is a sense of “who” the culturally-diverse subject is. In that sense, we must question: ‘[w]hat formations of subjectivity, what configurations of life-worlds, are effaced or occluded’ within these projects (Butler 2009, p. 161)?       Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   64  T h e o r e t i c a l  F r a m e w o r k  f o r  t h e  C a s e  S t u d y  A n a l y s i s    The following section maps out a theoretical framework for the dissertation’s case study analysis based on the cross-comparison of the literature on digital storytelling and everyday multiculturalism. The above literature review reveals the critical spaces that must be carved out in order to add useful research to the respective fields. Chapter One illustrated that there is a need to analyse the corporeal manifestations of multicultural life, in particular to consider how discursive regimes construct bodies in twenty-first century Australia according to long-standing conceptions of race. It also highlighted the tendency in everyday multiculturalism scholarship to analyse multicultural experiences as belonging to one of two separate spheres: the institutional/theoretical, or the ordinary/street. Often, scholars study this ‘street level’ as a means of providing what is considered to be a genuine reflection of everyday cultural encounters. So far, this chapter has illustrated that a similar tendency is prolific in digital storytelling scholarship. As a community-based arts practice, digital storytelling is often considered to be removed from the political pressures of mass-produced media or art practice and thus implies an authenticity—as if the genre is a conduit through which the real voices of the marginalised can be expressed. The dissertation endeavours to analyse the contemporary formations of multiculturalism in a way that resists the inclination to posit the institutional and the everyday as distinct arenas of cultural production. Resisting this tendency means analysing digital storytelling as a node of cultural articulation, as an opening ‘through which one enters into the context’ (Grossberg 2010a). In this instance, the context is the messy entanglement of public multiculturalism discourses and private everyday encounters. Chas Crichter, Tony Jefferson, John Clarke and Brian Roberts (1978 cited in Grossberg 2010a, p. 26) emphasise the need to remain aware of the context or ‘background’ in cultural studies work. This background—or, conjuncture, as later termed by Hall—informs the object of study, but is often left vague and abstract in analyses. This oversight occurs despite the fact that the background ‘is precisely the context which constitutes any possible object of study’ (Grossberg 2010a, p. 26). When analysing any object of study, especially one like digital storytelling which claims to be “everyday”, there is a danger that focussing on that object of study will ‘displace the context as Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   65 the real object of concern and investigation’ (Grossberg 2010a, p. 26). In this case, the analysis could follow other scholars by examining the digital storytelling genre and considering how it represents everydayness. However, in performing this task alone, the attention is misdirected from what precedes and facilitates the productive power of digital storytelling; notably, the normative force deployed by the notion of the everyday; the very “everyday” digital storytelling claims to reveal. There is a risk, in other words, of performing what Foucault (1978, p. 159) terms an ironic deployment when undertaking this analysis. The analysis carried out in the following chapters thus uses digital storytelling as a way to offer a new understanding of the context. In other words, it uses the genre to examine the various ways racialisation formulates and infiltrates everyday life. The facilitation of this analysis requires a theoretical framework that allows the private and public aspects of subject formation to cross-over. This framework is mapped out in the following section, and incorporates three theoretical tools: Foucault’s notion of apparatuses of security, Butler’s theory of performativity, and affect theory that focusses on the notion of affective economies. The case study analysis will move across these three optics in order to capture the relationships between institutional and everyday power and the power relations of the so-called “gap”. This movement provides a useful picture of how the material subject is constructed in digital stories according to both public and private discourses of multiculturalism. Further, it provides an avenue for considering the material possibilities available to the “culturally-diverse Australian” in community-based arts.  M u l t i c u l t u r a l i s m  a s  a n  A p p a r a t u s  o f  S e c u r i t y   The following chapters position the formal, or governmental notion of Australian multiculturalism as a type of apparatus of security (AoS), which organises certain Australians in particular ways. As an AoS, multiculturalism asks: what is the most efficient, economical way of managing ethnic subjects as a whole? Foucault’s (2003, p. 258) claim that ‘the actual roots of racism’ stem from race struggle is useful for thinking about Australian discourses of multiculturalism, ethnicity, and cultural diversity; in particular, the strategies of racialisation that haunt these discourses. Biopolitics adds useful weight to the understanding of race as a construct, by tracing in detail how this construction gets tailored according to various State Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   66 strategies to retain power. Foucault’s analysis of how State racism can kill through strategic, subjective means is pertinent for contemporary multicultural countries like Australia, which often deem racism to be “behind them”, largely because physical killing of “races” (arguably) no longer occurs. Under a biopolitical framework, however, we can consider how struggles continue to occur between subjects who have become racialised by a science originally formulated for the so-called good for the majority of people. The concepts of biopolitics and AoS provide a useful theoretical frame for analyses of multiculturalism. Foucault is most famously known for shifting the Marxist view of power as a hierarchical structure to a new understanding of power as a networked system. Most of his work is preoccupied with developing the notion of disciplinary power, in particular, the ways in which the subject or body is compelled to discipline itself in accordance with certain societal norms. In the Collège de France lectures (1975-1976), Foucault begins to productively expand the notion of disciplinary power to connect with a broader, State power, which he terms biopolitics. This expansion is not, as some critics have suggested,31 an abandonment of his earlier work, but rather an extension of it into a much more robust understanding of power. Such an understanding accounts for the individual, mundane instances of power alongside and imbricated within the collective, formalised instances of power. In this framework, the human compels itself to become a subject via disciplinary power, but it also becomes an active element of civil society at large by means of the power exercised through biopolitics. Foucault’s biopolitics emerges from his analysis of race struggle. While his analysis is not a direct attempt to trace racism per se, it inevitably leads him to do so, thus forming the most significant account of racism in his scholarship. Foucault begins by mapping the way race struggle was harnessed and reutilised by the State at the end of the nineteenth century in order to maintain power. He argues that towards the end of this era a turn to class struggle (via Marxism) was threatening to take over all claims to State truth and power, consequently threatening to usurp the sovereignty of the State (2003, p. 80). Emerging simultaneously with this threat of class struggle was a new scientific discourse operating in the West to classify biologically all objects and beings in the world. This scientific discourse became a tool that the State was able to deploy as a new counterhistory: a ‘biologico-medical perspective’ that ultimately led to ‘the appearance of what will become actual racism’ (2003, p. 80). This ‘actual racism’ takes on a particular function for the State, leading Foucault to term it ‘state racism’. The discourse of race struggle—originally ‘a weapon to be used against the sovereign’—is 																																								 																				31 For example, Nancy Fraser (1989, 1997). Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   67 appropriated by the sovereign (2003, p. 81). With the aid of science, the State is able to deploy a discourse of race that classifies human beings, coding them with certain characteristics that determine their so-called ‘race’. In this manner, the State can ‘recode the old counterhistory not in terms of class, but in terms of races—races in the biological and medical sense of that term’, consequently turning the race struggle weapon ‘against those who had forged it’ (2003, pp. 80-81). Foucault argues that State racism emerges as a tactic for the sovereign to continue claiming his legitimacy as the holder of the right to life and death and in order to pursue the colonial project (2003, p. 258). For colonialism to succeed, it was imperative for colonising states to establish a break in ‘the domain of life that is under power’s control: the break between what must live and what must die’ (2003, p. 254). The State had become accountable for its right to decide the life and death of subjects under its control. Thus, as Foucault describes, the State could no longer simply eradicate those who stood in the way of the colonial enterprise by its will alone; though, colonialism could not succeed unless the colonisers were able to eliminate those it intended to colonise. The State consequently appealed to racism, using the ‘themes of evolutionism’ to justify its killing (2003, p. 257). In particular, States used science to create a ‘biological continuum of humans’, which listed races from strongest to weakest; best to worst (2003, p. 254).  Foucault’s work is here analogous to Edward Said’s work in Orientalism (1978), which describes how colonial discourse is strategically linked to nature by “the West” in order to racialise people living in “the East”. As Said (1978, p. 62) explains, colonial discourse creates “the Orient”—an objectified subject placed in a lowly position against what is inscribed as a superior, white ontological position; ‘a concrete way of being in the world’. Colonial discourse draws on Darwinism to order human beings and legitimate the order through Western science and coding systems. In short, it constructs a hierarchy that is able to identify those subjects that deserve to die in order to create those subjects that deserve to flourish. The death of the Other can then be sold as a way of creating a healthier and more natural life for the “rightful” species: only by erasing the “weaker” races can the colonising race—the “superior” race—proliferate (2003, p. 255). Foucault (2003, p. 255) writes:  The more inferior species die out, the more abnormal individuals are eliminated, the fewer degenerates there will be in the species as a whole, and the more I—as species rather than individual—can live, the stronger I will be, the more vigorous I will be.  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   68  By creating this biologically-sanctioned relationship between “our life” and “their death”, State racism henceforth orchestrates the elimination of certain people in a strategic way. Namely, the State exercises a new method of power that gets applied to human beings as a whole, described by Foucault as a ‘“biopolitics” of the human race’ (2003, p. 243). Biopolitics introduces normalising techniques such as ‘forecasts, statistical estimates and overall measures’ (2003, p. 246) to “affirm” a certain race as the “rightful” holder of sovereignty. Those that do not fit the calculated average, or that present disturbances to the scientific equilibrium, are defined as less human, targeted as a threat that must be eradicated for the good of the State. By employing scientific rationalisations, the eradication of the impure race can be carried out in a ‘non-militant’ fashion, for example, through careful management of ‘the rate of reproduction, the fertility of a population ... the birth rate, the mortality rate’ (2003, p. 243, 255). Regulating these rates increases ‘the risk of death for some people’, and can also allow for ‘political death, expulsion’, and ‘rejection’ (2003, pp. 255-256). These measures do not enact a physical murder but a subjective one; they persecute a person from the domain of what Butler (2004) calls ‘livable life’, all under the guise of ‘optimiz[ing] a state of life’ (Foucault 2003, p. 246).  Managerial multiculturalism can be read as an apparatus of security that enacts certain measures in order to streamline cultural diversity and possibly undermine the needs of migrant communities. As outlined, multiculturalism has a complex history in Australia that has rendered ethnic people and their rights visible while also reinstating ethnicity as separate and Other to white Australia. Hage’s (1998) White Nation examines how Australian multiculturalism has enabled a space for migrant culture, but only as a space that exists for white Australia. Using Bourdieu, Hage describes how migrant culture acquires ‘a different mode of existence to Anglo-Celtic culture’ (1998, p. 121). The move to cultural diversity in areas such as Australian arts practice has worked to complicate this mode of existence, and often for affirmative outcomes. However, it can be argued that the celebration of cultural difference through public programmes (multicultural digital story programmes, for example) is also an AoS in action: these public programmes allow the fluctuating “ethnic” multiplicities to be controlled as an object of power, acting as one means to the biopolitical end. In this schema, governmental discourses on cultural diversity pose a norm for the “multicultural/ethnic” person, and then compel the body to conform to this norm (according to disciplinary power). Ang and St Louis (2005, p. 292) point to this predicament when, with regard to Australian multiculturalism, they write:  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   69  A key plank of state-led recognition of difference is the policy of multiculturalism, which officially sanctions and enshrines ethnic, linguistic and cultural differences within the encompassing framework of the state. In this administrative-bureaucratic context, difference becomes the cornerstone of diversity: diversity is the managerial view of the field of differences to be harmonized, controlled and made to fit into a coherent (i.e. national) whole by the (nation) state.  The cumulative effect of this is the control of an imagined and manageable multicultural community.  An extension of Hage’s (1998, p. 150) notion of multiculturalism as a technology of the ‘national body’ is thus undertaken in this dissertation. Hage (1998, p. 150) argues that ‘rather than being imagined as an essential part of the national body, multiculturalism is imagined as an object performing a function for that body’. In other words, multiculturalism, or ethnic difference, becomes that which is “taken on” by what remains an essentially white national will (Hage 1998, p. 149). He goes on to consider how multiculturalism’s subject—the migrant or ethnic Australian—becomes an essential element of the national body: it is an ‘exterior object’ but still ‘an interior extension’ (1998, p. 150). The following chapters consider in greater depth this latter relationship, in particular, the strategic deployment of individual bodies within the national body through community arts projects, like digital storytelling. As Michael Lambek and Paul Antze (1996, p. xx) explain, experiences of nationhood and ethnicity are:  linked to popular narratives and ceremonies, which are linked to newspaper accounts and thence to official histories, museums, boundary disputes, and sponsored ceremonies, which are linked to theories propounded by historians, political scientists and other experts. The writer of the “simple” life history often unintentionally reproduces the assumptions and biases contained in these links.  The digital story is a “simple” life history of an ordinary Australian, but this ultimately feeds into the imagined community of Australia. In her analysis of the “Demidenko affair”, Gunew (2004, p. 76) further supports this, noting that ethnicity ‘conceived as minority or apprentice national subject-in-process, is always a performance and, significantly ... this performance is framed by a decades-long reception of such “multicultural” texts and subjectivities’.  In the following analysis, this imagined Australia and thus the AoS of multiculturalism, is shown to be linked to whiteness. The notion of whiteness employed here draws on that Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   70 developed in the 1990s—beginning in North America and Europe through scholars Toni Morrison (1992), Frankenberg (1993), and Richard Dyer (1997), and continuing in an Australian context through the foundational work of Hage (1998) and Aileen Moreton-Robinson (2000). Such work critically analysed the ways in which whites become racialised as the invisible but dominant centre of social and cultural life. Hage argued that whiteness is not a biological fact but a racial position, accumulated through the fantasy of white superiority ‘borne out of the history of colonial expansion’ (1998, p. 20). This idea frames the following exploration of how digital stories that focus on ‘cultural diversity’ in Australia animate scripts of ethnicity that reinforce or destabilise the dominant discourse of whiteness. In this way, the analysis follows John T. Warren’s (2003, p. 20) argument that studies on whiteness ought to cease placing ‘identity in the materiality of … bodies’, or on the “fact” of the subject’s whiteness. Instead, they should explore how subjects ‘use or site a discourse that works to promote and maintain white privilege and power’; how it is that the materiality of “race” is coercively produced.   E t h n i c  P e r f o r m a t i v i t y  i n  D i g i t a l  S t o r y t e l l i n g   The second theoretical optic utilised in the following case study analysis is Butler’s concept of performativity. The addition of this theory is important because power does not create subjects by coercing them from above. Power is certainly exercised through multicultural policies and programmes, but this involves an insidious, disciplinary form of power that works to turn some Australian bodies into an active element of the multicultural nation at large. Utilising AoS in conjunction with performativity avoids the problematic approach to multicultural policy as a “cause” and the multicultural subject as an “effect” which plagues many critiques of multiculturalism (Khan 2011). The analysis adopts Butler’s approach to gender/sex in order to interrogate the relationship between ethnicity and race. Specifically, it asks: how does the performance of “ethnicity” in digital storytelling reinstate the regulatory force of “race”? The following analysis is guided by this question, in order to examine the ways in which the authors of digital stories are constituted through corporeal acts deemed “ethnic”, and how the persistence of these acts via performativity reinforces racial categories. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   71 Following the work of Gunew in Haunted Nations: The Colonial Dimensions of Multiculturalisms (2004), the following analysis of digital stories uses Butler’s theory of performativity to trouble the boundaries of the classificatory terms “multiculturalism”, “ethnicity”, and “cultural diversity”. Gunew interrogates how it is that “the ethnic” comes to be known in a subjective sense through ethnic discourse, and she also questions how the deployment of this discourse creates and affects bodies in literal and meaningful ways. Gunew suggests that ethnic identity extends beyond a question of subjectivity and culturalism to one of corporeality, interrogating the ways in which the ethnic subject comes to know itself as “ethnic” at a body-politic level. Butler (1993, p. 9) develops the theory of performativity using Foucault’s idea that the body is an effect of power in which power does not come from an agent, a state of nature, or a single act: ‘There is no power that acts … only a reiterated act that is power in its persistence and instability’. Key to the theory of performativity and thus to this dissertation is the argument that the subject does not passively accept and pass on norms, but actively cites and reproduces these normative elements. Power is not an autonomous agent that acts upon subjects, but a cumulative force that works through discourse: the ‘reiteration of a norm or set of norms’ that acquire ‘an act-like status in the present’ and conceal ‘the convention of which it is a repetition’ (Foucault 1978, p. 155; Butler 1993, p. 12). Butler (1993, p. 19) summarises this when she writes:   Discourse gains its authority by citing the conventions of authority … the norm of sex takes hold to the extent that it is cited as such a norm, but it also derives its power through the citations that it compels.   It is this perpetual reiteration propelled through discourse that Butler (1993, p. 2) terms ‘performativity’, the citational force by which ‘discourse produces the effect that it names’.  Butler’s theory of performativity emerges from her analysis of the sex/gender dichotomy, which seeks to implement a more radical interpretation of phenomenology’s ‘doctrine of constitution’ (Butler 1997b, p. 402). What Butler (1997b, p. 402) takes from phenomenology is its focus on ‘the mundane’ ways individuals ‘constitute social reality through language, gestures, and all manner of symbolic social signs’. What she rejects, however, is phenomenology’s persistent focus on a ‘social agent’ driving the constitution, opting instead for a Foucauldian-inspired focus on the subject rather than the individual. In other words, in phenomenological studies, the individual is still considered to be the primary site of agency; a Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   72 “beneath” underlies the layers of construction, a “Self” that acts. What’s more, Butler (1997b, p. 403) seeks to expand on the theory and use of the term ‘acts’ to mean both: ‘that which constitutes meaning and that through which meaning is performed or enacted’. Specifically, Butler (1997b, p. 403, 412) aims to examine how the gendered subject ‘is constructed through specific corporeal acts’; how the persistent performance of these acts works to create a ‘regulatory fiction’ that is “gender”; and, importantly, how a focus on this “gender fiction” diverts our attention from quite possibly the most blatant regulatory fiction of all—sexual difference.  The theory takes particular interest in how this citation of intelligibility gains its momentum at the level of the body, under the ‘elegance of the discipline’ that Foucault (1977, p. 184) describes. As Foucault (1977, p. 140) stresses: ‘For the disciplined man, as for the true believer, no detail is unimportant’. For Butler, gender is a series of predetermined possibilities and details—details that are practiced and repeated by bodies so incessantly that they materialise as reality. Gender thus becomes an embodied stylisation—‘the mundane way in which bodily gestures, movements, and enactments of various kinds constitute the illusion of an abiding gendered self’ (Butler 1997b, p. 402). As Butler (1997b, p. 404) summarises, the existing sociality one is born into has created possibilities for the body, but these are performed and materialised by the body so ‘[o]ne is not simply a body, but, in some very key sense, one does one’s body’. Gender reality is thus performative in that, ‘it is real only to the extent that it is performed’ (Butler 1997b, p. 410). A sexed or gendered identity comes to be performative in that to make a statement such as “I am a feminine woman”, or indeed, “I am not a feminine woman” requires one to cite the norms of “femininity” and “woman-ness”. Citing these norms not only reinstates their authority, but reinstates them as the norms that others will be compelled to cite as well. A useful analogy for performativity is that of a perpetual baton-relay in which the norm is accepted and passed on from runner-to-runner (subject-to-subject), inevitably contributing to the ‘signifying chain’ of identity, whereby the ‘political signifier’, e.g. “woman” is ‘resignified’ (Butler 1993, p. 220).  Performing this state of “realness” is what Butler (1997b, pp. 404-405) refers to as the ‘corporeal project’—or the process in which an individual compels its body to ‘conform to an historical ideal ... to induce the body to become a cultural sign’. In other words, there are historical possibilities for a “woman”; norms which one does and norms which through their doing contribute to the ‘signifying chain’ of “woman”. Significantly, this doing of the corporeal Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   73 project—and in turn, of “woman”—always returns to the question: am I reflecting my sex or otherwise? If I do not “do femininity well”, some may suggest that I am acting in an “unnatural” manner, or in a way that is “untrue” to myself. Others, such as those that argue that gender is construction, would likely say it does not matter how I “do” my gender; that I can interpret my “woman-ness” in any way I wish. But, in fact, it does matter, for both lines of argument—even the latter—lead us back to the finite origin of “sex” (sexual difference), the benchmark for the “construction” of gendered acts. We thus see that gender discourse needs to position sexual difference as a cause to create the gendered subject and, inevitably, our sense of “self”—for even when we act in discord to the gendered norm we reaffirm its ties to “sexual difference”. Butler’s argument is shown here to clearly mirror Foucault’s (1978, p. 155) claim that it is always ‘through sex that each must pass in order to have access to his own intelligibility’. What this means is that there can be no expression of sex through gender that is not a ‘further formation’ of that sexed body (Butler 1993, p. 10). In fact, there can be no expression of sex at all—only performativity (Butler 1997b, pp. 411-412). We become actors perpetually acting, taking the gendered script as life itself: ‘the mundane social audience, including the actors themselves, come to believe and to perform in the mode of belief’ (Butler 1997b, p. 402). Thus, through the corporeal project we dramatise a set of possibilities we believe to be linked to sex (either as reflective or oppositional) into a physicality, and through this process conceal the fact that these possibilities have no actual referent to a “sex” at all.  The following case study analysis considers how “multiculturalism” is displayed through various performative actions in digital stories and, further, how these displays embed themselves as everyday. In this way, the analysis has parallels to Stella Bruzzi’s (2006) analysis of documentaries as ‘performative acts’, recently adopted by Smaill (2010). Smaill (2010, p. 19) argues that as screen technologies become more advanced, documentary moves further away from the original ‘conventions of observational and expository form’ and becomes increasingly performative. While this dissertation posits that, like documentary, digital stories are performative acts, it departs somewhat from Smaill’s application of Butler’s performativity. In particular, it does not see digital storytelling as being more or less performative. It argues, instead, that there is no outside to the performative in the digital story: it is all performative, albeit sometimes less overtly so than others. The following analysis assesses how normative or counter-normative the performative is in the production and consumption of the digital storytelling case studies. Using performativity in this manner adds to the everyday multiculturalism work of Noble and Poynting (2010, p. 502) who are also turning their Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   74 attention to the ‘walking and talking’ that occurs during the development of subjectivities. In a similar approach, the digital storytelling analysis will consider how it is that we, as creators and consumers of digital stories, are thrust into ‘walking and talking’ in ways that create particular subjectivities, and importantly, compel us to keep walking and talking them as depictions of “the everyday”.  A f f e c t i v e  E c o n o m i e s  i n  D i g i t a l  S t o r i e s   The third key theory used for the following case study analysis is affective economies. As highlighted in the literature review, the subjects performing digital stories are disciplined according to particular methodological steps that aim to ensure the finished product is persuasive and engaging. In order to track the operation and intent of this persuasiveness, the analysis pays attention to bodily “saying” in the digital stories. This task entails the examination of the discursive elements of the stories—the narrative, the visual aesthetics, and the sound components—but it also involves examination of the non-discursive elements, that is, what the assemblage of all the discursive elements feels like. As Grossberg asserts: ‘Knowledge always depends on a visceral relevance’ (2010a, p. 18). Affect theory provides a methodological tool to examine this visceral relevance of digital storytelling. It also helps to address the intrinsic presence and power of emotions that, as Hug (2012) identifies, is largely overlooked in digital storytelling literature.  The following analysis argues that it is via the force of the performative that affect gets propelled into and implicated in certain forms of materiality. A new, more specific way to consider the connection of performativity and affect is mapped out and demonstrates its relevance for projects where identities are (re)articulated. This move follows Gunew’s extension of the linguistic model of performativity into the realm of bodily acts. Although predominantly interested in the ways the English language choreographs bodies, Gunew’s analysis considers ethnic performativity not merely in relation to spoken language but to ‘“bodied language”’, or ‘a repertoire of gestures which indicate belonging, or otherwise’ (2004, p. 12). For Gunew (2004, p. 10), all ‘displays of ethnicity’—including but not confined to language—‘might be perceived as performative’, and performative for particular desires and audiences. Gunew is here pointing to the incorporation of affect in analyses of the performative. Gunew reads Butler’s performativity Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   75 as operating through the speech act. This dissertation’s reading of Butler, especially of her later work (2004, 2006, 2008, 2009), suggests that performativity does include these affective elements, although they are not directly labelled as such by Butler. Indeed, it is perhaps because affect is an “indirect” structure of organisation that this is the case. Like performativity, affect is an energy that gets harnessed and channelled in everyday life and helps to demarcate subjects.  A variety of approaches and definitions of affect have emerged in the past decade. These range from the heavily positivist or biological approaches of psychological and psychoanalytic inquiry to the assemblage work between human and machine as found in cybernetics or the neurosciences (Seigworth and Gregg 2010).32 Patricia Clough (2007) argues that the use of affect theory in this manner is indicative of a move in critical theory from discipline and representation to control and information; and from questions of production and consumption to the circulation of affect. Generally speaking, this move asks how life itself is being commodified and reorganised, allowing us to begin thinking about how certain bodies are inscribed with affective meaning and ultimately become livable or unlivable. As Clough (2007, p. 25) writes:   There is a marking of populations—some as valuable life and others as without value. Increasingly it is in these terms that differences such as those of ethnicity, race, gender, class, sexuality and nation are materialized. Some bodies or bodily capacities are derogated making their affectivity superexploitable, or exhaustible unto death, while other bodies or body capacities collect the value produced through this derogation and exploitation.  The understanding of affect as both controlled and networked can easily be linked to the Foucauldian framework of power in which power at the level of the body and power at the level of State control is intertwined. With this in mind, affect is used in this dissertation to broadly describe energy before it becomes matter, that is, the sense of energy one experiences before one is able to put that experience/feeling into words. Affect includes feelings, but it also involves all other forces of energy that move between objects and bodies. Affect is used in this manner to describe the in-																																								 																				32 For example, the investigation of how affect operates in life technologies such as artificial intelligences, robotics, and other inorganic objects (Seigworth and Gregg 2010, pp. 6–7).  Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   76 between state—that which is moving between objects and bodies but is yet to impose definitive impressions upon either. As Greg Seigworth and Melissa Gregg (2010, p. 14) outline, affect ‘arises in the midst of inbetween-ness: in the capacities to act and be acted upon’. They argue that while affect is not necessarily forceful in itself, the study of affect is about forces between bodies, including those subtly deployed. Examining this in-between space is important in digital stories which deliberately work to create a relationship in terms of an implied viewer and narrator or implied author. As outlined, the digital story utilises a range of techniques to connect the public to an individualised story or experience and vice-versa. This relationship is encouraged by subtle combinations of visual, audio, and narrative techniques that attempt to draw out, or, to use Anna Poletti’s term, ‘coax’ a particular type of attachment between the author and viewer. Poletti (2011, p. 81) expands:  The digital storytelling movement is clear in its desire to make a contribution to the public sphere, and what marks that contribution as an attempt to create an intimate public is its insistence on the pre-existence of ‘story’ and the universality of themes such as ‘life, loss, belonging, hope for the future, friendship and love’ (Burgess 2006, 212). These themes, posited as self-evident but actually the product of the movement’s own discourse, are presented as the common historical experience shared by the participants.   Poletti is using Berlant’s (2008) notion of the ‘intimate public’ here as a way to describe how digital stories create an intimacy between narrators and implied viewers (the public). She suggests that the themes of universality or humanness animated by digital stories to create an intimate public are the effect of careful storytelling. This process raises concerns because it endangers—even eradicates—alternative stories that do not fit these particular notions of intimacy.  Some of the digital storytelling projects described earlier illustrate the coaxing of this intimate public. Helen Klaebe’s (2006) Ph.D. study, for example, aimed to share the stories of ordinary people in the neighbourhood of Kelvin Grove, U.K. and used digital storytelling as the medium to do so. Throughout the dissertation, Klaebe discusses how the project had to ‘coax’ certain stories out of the participants and craft them in ways that remained interesting yet authentic (2006). Even in projects committed to social justice outcomes we see this coaxing and narrative control manipulating the result. The digital storytelling literature review shows that many researchers experience frustration/disappointment when the stories they feel to be most Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   77 important or to reflect the biggest community issue are not told by the digital storytelling participants. Thus, digital storytelling is affectively and normatively organised, and the outcome is impacted by a range of circumstances, including the participants’ agendas and the context within which they digitalise them. Arguably, digital stories may be understood as performative of a complex set of affective and normative combinations. As Nigel Thrift (2004, p. 58) argues, affect has become an everyday yet ‘actively engineered’ aspect of our daily landscape and needs to be viewed as ‘a set of performing relays and junctions that are laying down all manner of new emotional histories and geographies’.  The following analysis examines how affect becomes structured and oriented in the digital stories. A useful way to do this is through the utilisation of Grossberg’s (1987) concept of ‘affective economies’, which refers to the circulation of emotion and energy between people, images, and things. Grossberg argues that these economies ‘articulate affective struggles into a limited set of structures’, restricting the way affect can be harnessed politically (1987, p. 41). Utilising affect theory in this way allows for a rigorous and multi-dimensional framework for dissecting the spaces between the author and viewer of digital stories, or, stated differently, the spaces in which the performative is passed over.  Performative relays tend to be mundane and inconspicuous, so that, as Cvetkovich (2007, p. 464) describes, racism and other ‘structural forms of violence ... become invisible and normalised within our daily lives’. It is, therefore, crucial to consider how affect forms a performative loop between the authors and viewers of digital stories (in both everyday and institutional settings). Embedded within these performative loops are ideas or emotions and a force that lays down the boundaries of our subjectivities. When Cvetkovich (2003) calls for the consideration of ‘buried traumas’, she is urging the location and illumination of micro or alternative stories of loss and difficulty, as well as the violence and traumas that might actually be embedded within the performative loop of these micro-stories themselves.33 Following Cvetkovich, the dissertation argues that this task needs to be carried out in less obvious fields, including those considered “organic”, or somehow more “expressively free”, such as the arts realm, grass-roots community work, and, in this instance—digital storytelling. Such a project connects to Cvetkovich’s (2007, p. 464) injunction to think beyond the usual understandings of 																																								 																				33 This is indicative of Berlant’s (2011, p. 7) argument that screen media is archiving new, alternative stories, including those that are being lost from the historical record, but is also tracking ‘what happens in the time that we inhabit before new forms make it possible to relocate within conventions the fantasy of sovereign life unfolding from actions’. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   78 trauma as catastrophic, and begin to develop a map of everyday trauma that focusses on ‘the everyday and the insidious’.  While the case study analysis draws on European categories of affect theory, it avoids any understanding of affect as biologically derived or universally translatable. As Gunew (2009) stresses, affect studies have a tendency to understand affect as manifesting in the same fashion across all people, even though there are clearly differing taxonomies and interpretations of affect within and across cultures. The dissertation also allows for flexibility of affective economies by considering the ways in which these economies might be modified. This is not to occupy the view that affective regimes can be fully opened for the liberal flow of affective forms—like discursive norms, affects remain limited in the sense that they are produced within particular cultural systems. However, as Butler describes in her discussion of normative constraints, persons are not ‘in those constraints as something is “in” a container: [they are] extinguished by constraints, but also mobilised and incited by constraints’ (2004, p. 15). If we take the affective economy to refer to the movement and structure of various energies between bodies and objects, then it becomes possible to explore the ways in which this economy might be reorganised to create new affective outcomes.  Such a task follows Foucault’s exploration of the ways in which ‘it might be possible to think differently rather than legitimating what is already known’ (1978, p. 9). Understanding the affective dimension can provide a new means of rearticulating knowledges by retexturing our understandings of ‘the complex regulation of bodily subjectivity’, an ever-pressing task in a globalising world (Antwi et al. 2013, p. 1). The following two chapters undertake a close reading of some digital stories, considering how the characters perform the multicultural subject, according to dominant norms of whiteness. Chapter Five then extends this by considering how affective economies add to (and, indeed, take from) these particular performances. This analysis leads the dissertation to consider how digital stories can allow for extensions of performativity and affect as political forces of change: capable of disrupting and resisting norms of whiteness to create alternative realities of everyday multiculturalism detached from racialisation.  C o n c l u s i o n   Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   79 The literature reviewed in this chapter defines digital storytelling as a narrative-based genre that blends still photography, home video, sound, and voice narration into a hyper-short film, edited to emotively tell an individual, first-person story. For the purposes of this dissertation, two main types of digital stories are defined and utilised: individual digital stories and collective digital stories. Individual stories refer to the conventional digital story, in which individuals join members of the public to produce a short, two to five minute digital story. The story tells a personal experience in the author’s own voice and includes private photographs and/or home videos. Collective digital stories refer to digital stories that are created by a community over a long period. These stories tend to be much longer in length and combine the artistic outputs created in sequential workshops into a more abstract interpretation of the community.   The digital storytelling genre has its roots in the CDS in California but has also proliferated in Australia and the United Kingdom in the past decade. The literature on digital storytelling is consequently produced mainly within a Western framework. What is interesting, however, is that the scholarship continues to focus on the genre’s ability to serve as a “tool” for the democratisation of media and community narratives, despite the different cultural contexts and settings that digital storytelling is now being utilised. A significant portion of the scholarship discusses the genre as an enabling medium for marginalised peoples, including migrants, people with health and disability issues, ethnic and religious minorities, women, and people from a low socio-economic bracket. However, only a small proportion of the scholarship critically examines the ways in which the genre is itself entangled within discursive regimes that ultimately impact the storytellers and the stories produced. An even smaller proportion examines the operation of racialised norms within the medium, despite ethnic minorities frequently acting as the genre’s target group. The literature review illustrated that digital storytelling and everyday multiculturalism are guided by similar aims and principles about the value of shared, diverse experiences. These similarities can be grouped into three main characteristics: 1. The attempt to “bridge a gap” between the ordinary person and the institution; 2. the attempt to tell unheard/marginalised stories, and share different perspectives; and 3. the attachment to and use of the notion of a culturally-diverse society. These similarities make digital storytelling a useful point of entry into thinking about how notions of multiculturalism and cultural diversity manifest in Australia. In a way, the pattern in digital storytelling literature seems symptomatic of the drive towards cultural difference that occurred in the early part of the century, following identity politics debates. The literature is drawn towards difference and the ability for the digital storytelling genre to express Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism  	   80 it at a “grass-roots” level; however, it often moves too quickly ahead into empirical discussions of the technology, before asking critical questions of the genre itself. In this way, many of the problems inherent in art practice pertaining to cultural diversity are reinstated.  By combining concepts of performativity with affect theory to analyse digital storytelling projects in Australia, materiality is situated at the forefront of the case study analysis. Foregrounding materiality seems crucial since, as Burgess (2006, p. 211, original italics) argues, digital storytelling is ‘a means of “becoming real” to others, on the basis of shared experience and affective resonances. Many of the stories are, quite literally, touching’. Exploring the ways in which materiality is endlessly reconstituted through the mode of digital storytelling can reveal both limits and possibilities for the everyday “multicultural Australian” in this country. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  81 CHAPTER THREE: “Everyday Ethnici ty” in ACMI’s Digital  Storytel l ing Programme  … all organized narration is a ‘matter for the police’.  —Jacques Derrida,  ‘Living on. Borderl ines’  (1979)  I n t r o d u c t i o n   Digital storytelling is a useful vehicle for bringing marginalised Australian voices into the public domain and allowing ordinary Australians to creatively share their experiences. However, there are several aspects of the medium that need to be analysed before it can be deemed an effective mode for destabilising dominant discourses in Australian life. The literature largely reads digital storytelling as a tool for enabling voice and worthy behaviour but tends to overlook how and why these aspects are enabled. And yet, like all forms of representation, the mode of digital storytelling undoubtedly constrains the terms of the speaking and ultimately the representation of the speaker, whether the speaking comes from an individual or a community perspective. The task for this case study analysis then, is to consider how the genre operates as a technological form in the Foucauldian sense—a form that deploys particular notions of ethnicity, and consequently how it impacts the formation of “the ethnic” in Australia. The following chapters will consider how it is that the genre informs, resists, and/or reproduces racialised notions of the subject within the context of everyday narratives.  Using the theoretical framework outlined in Chapter Two, this chapter will examine case studies representative of the two main types of digital stories earlier identified: individual digital stories and collaborative digital stories. In a way, the labels given to these two types of digital stories are misleading, because, as will be demonstrated below, both types of digital stories link themselves to a notion of community collaboration in some way. However, for the purposes of this analysis, it is useful to separate and compare the two types. The individual digital stories chosen for analysis here are two films produced at ACMI: Sam Haddad’s (2007) Loving Lebanon and Australia (LLAA) and Fatma Coskun’s (2007) New Life, New Country Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  82 (NLNC). These films have been selected because, after viewing the thirty-two ACMI-produced migrant digital stories available online, certain patterns emerged pertaining to stories about migration and/or cultural diversity in Australia. These patterns included: three distinct narrative sections, a linear movement from past to present/bad to good, the condensing of convoluted experiences into a palatable trajectory, and a summation of the whole experience of one-off migration. The two films LLAA and NLNC exemplified the typical migrant digital story. Analysis of these digital stories is compared in the following chapter to a close reading of the collaborative digital story, Junk Theory.  The chapter examines how norms of ethnicity and whiteness are animated in the individual digital stories. The analysis aims to reach a greater understanding of the conjuncture of everyday multiculturalism, in particular, the material ways so-called “ethnic” and “non-ethnic” subjects are enmeshed in Australian power relations pertaining to whiteness. How the authors perform their ethnicity in their respective digital stories is an exercise of power that draws on previous acts and will compel future acts—not only in digital stories but in daily life as well. Power is thus ‘a relationship between partners, individuals and collectives’, but it is also ‘a way in which certain actions modify others’ (Foucault 1982, p. 788). Vivienne and Burgess (2013, p. 285) note that digital platforms are ‘less tangible’ than some forms of art production, but ‘nevertheless constitute an archive that is representative of social negotiations around gender, sexuality and fluid identity’. The archive created by organisations like ACMI has recurring material effects, illustrating not only the various possibilities available in digital exchange, but also the realisation of particular possibilities in everyday life (see Navarro 2012, p. 142). ACMI is unavoidably implicated in the creation and deployment of possibilities for “ethnic” identities in Australia and contribute to the story of the nation.34 The organisation's framework for producing digital stories is important to consider because it impacts the story that is both told and heard about “multicultural Australia”.  The following section analyses how national storytelling about multiculturalism takes place in the relationship between individual participants and public discourses of race, in particular, the discourse of whiteness. It will consider how Sam and Fatma animate “the multicultural subject” and thus how digital storytelling’s particular structure can both reaffirm and/or resist the normative notions of whiteness when carried out in Australian communities. The work here will add to Burgess’ (2006), Dreher’s (2012), Vivienne’s (2011), and Vivienne 																																								 																				34 See Zoettl (2013, p. 210), who emphasises the role institutions play in creating digital stories, and the ways in which this involvement implicates both the digital form and its discursive outcomes. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  83 and Burgess’ (2013) scholarships to consider who gets to provide voice, how, and—importantly—to what end. It should be reinstated that this analysis is not interested in discussing whether the digital stories are good or bad forms of contemporary media art. The following chapters are interested, instead, in how the respective digital storytelling programmes engage with everyday multiculturalism and what kind of bodily information this produces in relation to “race” in Australia. By examining the narrative, aesthetic, and audio aspects of the digital stories, and the way these elements are produced and placed, the chapter works to trace the simultaneous production of a separate material outcome—the ethnic body. The discussion draws on material publicly available on the relevant programmes and stories, including online press releases, descriptions, and media coverage, as well as interviews with programme facilitator, Helen Simondson.  S h a r i n g  M y  S t o r y :  A C M I ’ s  D i g i t a l  S t o r y t e l l i n g  P r o g r a m m e   ACMI’s digital storytelling programme is useful for analysing the notion of everyday multiculturalism. First, the programme prioritises “on the ground” happenings or ordinary stories, mirroring the central concerns of everyday multiculturalism. ACMI uses the basic principles of the CDS’ model that purposively connects digital media, popular culture, and the storytelling of everyday life: ‘We approach the storytelling part of our work as an extension of the kind of everyday storytelling that occurs around the dinner table, the bar, or the campfire’ (Lambert 2009, p. 14). Second, ACMI collects and publicly distributes stories considered representative of Melbourne’s non-Anglo migration patterns and culturally-diverse constitution, thus creating a digital memorial of multiculturalism. There is an implied understanding that the stories produced are “authentic”: reflecting real, on-the-ground experiences of non-Anglo Australians. In this fashion, ACMI is using Lambert’s digital storytelling model to engage the public and encourage ordinary people to contribute to the narrative of Australian multiculturalism.  ACMI has its roots in the State Film Centre—first established in 1946 to maintain a film collection for public use. The State Film Centre became a leading library of Australian and international cinematic works and was pivotal in building Victoria’s film industry. As technology evolved, the Centre widened its collection compass to include films from emerging and student Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  84 filmmakers and began to shift its focus from film archiving to filmmaking advocacy and education (ACMI 2013, online, 8 Oct; Culture Victoria 2013, online, 8 Oct). Plans to develop the Centre into what is now known as ACMI began in the 1990s, instigated by rapid technological advancements that were redefining the moving image and its creative potential. Envisioned to become an internationally-recognised hub of screen cultures, ACMI was purpose-built to foster interaction with moving image of all forms—film, television, and digital media—a goal supported by the installment of the 2001 Film Act. ACMI opened in Federation Square, the so-called heart of Melbourne city, on 26th October 2002, and has since become an iconic Melbourne landmark (ACMI 2013, online, 8 Oct).  Although the role of ACMI has developed since its days as the State Film Centre, the institution continues to play an important archival role. Today, it houses the nation’s largest collection of moving image documents, which has diversified in form to include: film, home video, web content, gaming, and other hybrid forms of digital media, such as v-blogs and digital maps. Like all cultural institutions, ACMI is designated a particular responsibility for its locale: holding and creating certain forms of knowledge and shaping stories told and received about Melbourne and the nation. This responsibility has been refashioned over the years to allow the public to contribute more directly to the evolution and distribution of Australian knowledges and stories. Developing an engaging link between the cultural institution and the public became particularly crucial during the 1990s. At this time, the curatorial practices of cultural institutions—especially museums—came under increased scrutiny, criticised for using Western scientific discourse to project purportedly authoritative and ultimately monolithic representations of the subject being collected and exhibited (see Buskirk 2003; Kwon 2002; Sherman & Rogoff 1994). Cultural institutions had long been working within a rigid positivist paradigm that compressed shifting multiplicities of knowledge(s) into singular perspectives and linear narratives. As postmodern thinking began to take hold in the 1990s, ACMI also developed more engaging relationships with their audience and reconsidered knowledge presentation and creation in a more dynamic form. Refashioning ACMI’s public engagement required careful planning because, although the institution wanted to foster public engagement, it was also determined to be an international leader of moving image technology—two aims that did not necessarily complement one another. The technological boom had occurred and was quickly snowballing; however, the majority of Australians were only just beginning to dabble with the technology, struggling to keep up with the constant developments. As ACMI’s Director of Public Programs, Helen Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  85 Simondson (2012b, online, 11 Nov), outlines, most Australians were intrigued by the advancements in web technologies and desktop publishing, but did not know how to integrate the advancements into their lives, or where to begin to learn about them. There was thus a gap between public interaction and quality technological outputs that needed bridging, requiring a programme that would provide access to moving image technology and simultaneously up-skill participants in visual media literacy. Working under the banner of ‘lifelong learning’, ACMI set about designing a programme that ‘facilitated co-creative content, rather than an entire user-generated model’ (Simondson 2012b, online, 11 Nov). The ACMI building was purpose-built to allow moving image professionals to interact with its audience. This interaction enabled the creation and distribution of moving image outputs that were meaningful for both the public and ACMI: the public could actively contribute to the making of moving image stories, and ACMI could, by facilitating and co-creating the work, maintain a certain quality control over the productions.  Co-created moving image content has mostly been facilitated by ACMI’s Public Programs, which include a range of public exhibitions, community projects, workshops, and seminars. ACMI’s longest standing and arguably most significant Public Program is its digital storytelling programme, developed in conjunction with the Centre’s reincarnation. After meeting Lambert in 1998, Simondson was convinced that adopting the CDS model would complement ACMI’s dual aims of public engagement and quality moving-image production. She was particularly drawn to the model because it required that participants use their own content and memorabilia, such as personal photographs and home video. This aspect meant it would not be necessary for ACMI to create all elements of the production in-house, essentially simplifying the task at hand. Furthermore, allowing members of the public to contribute their own content would become the archival bridge ACMI sought to create—linking the individual member to the cultural organisation in an ongoing relationship and dialogue. ACMI thus set about learning digital storytelling skills directly from Lambert, who visited the institution to workshop the model with staff. The digital storytelling programme was launched in 2002 and became one of the first formal avenues for Australian people to directly influence the stories told and shared about themselves and their communities through digital media. ACMI was the first major institution to adopt specifically the CDS model, which has since proliferated in Australia and many other parts of the world. Indeed, Lambert credits the institution as a key driver of this proliferation. He describes the CDS as ‘limping through 2001 and 2002’ and believes the work it did with the Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  86 BBC and ACMI over this period was a ‘breakthrough’ for the genre (2009, pp. 34-42). The significance of this relationship is proven by the number of digital stories ACMI has co-created—in a little over a decade, ACMI has assisted in the production of almost one-thousand digital stories35.  ACMI raised awareness of the genre in Australia by appealing to three main target audiences: 1. members of the general public; 2. organisational trainers; and 3. specific communities or “clusters” of people. Any person can learn digital storytelling skills from ACMI facilitators via the public workshop programme. The public workshops are held by appointment and cost approximately five hundred dollars for three days. The trainer-to-trainer workshops allow ACMI staff skilled in digital storytelling to teach other workers how to run digital storytelling workshops. These workers then take the workshop structure back to their organisations and run digital storytelling workshops with their staff/clients/audience. This process has enabled more people to become involved in the genre and learn about moving image technology. The community workshops involve a co-creative agreement between ACMI and a community organisation or advocacy group, for example, between ACMI and the Jewish Museum, or ACMI and the Lebanese Community Hall. While ACMI often approaches these organisations or groups in the first instance, there are times (especially as knowledge about digital storytelling increases) that the community group drives the relationship. ACMI’s appeal to community groups has been instrumental to its success. The participation of community organisations helped ACMI’s digital storytelling programme get off the ground: first, by providing start-up capital; second, by encouraging more organisations to participate. The community digital storytelling programme runs on funding that the community groups must raise themselves. It costs approximately ten thousand dollars for each three-day workshop, which includes the cost of technical production, script-writing assistance, post-production, and distribution (Simondson 2012a, interview, 16 Nov). The community representatives often seek funding from government or other relevant bodies for the project. Simondson notes that ACMI’s first migrant digital storytelling project, La Voce del Popolo (2003), received positive feedback from the Victorian Government, and encouraged the State Government to fund similar community-based projects.  One of the first tasks carried out by ACMI for the digital storytelling programme was to identify groups of people in Melbourne and greater Victoria that might have similarly-themed 																																								 																				35 ACMI has a total collection of 915 individual digital stories that can be viewed on site in its public viewing library. I was able to locate thirty-two of these online, on the ACMI website, Culture Victoria website, and YouTube.	Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  87 stories. This task was crucial not only for funding reasons, but also because little knowledge existed on digital storytelling at the beginning of the ACMI-based programme. Before the programme could begin, ACMI needed first to educate and promote the genre to the Australian community. Simondson and her team identified a range of themes, or ‘clusters’, of stories, that included health, disability, youth, and the elderly, and then contacted service or advocacy groups associated with these clusters. Many of the community representatives contacted recognised the potential for the individual digital stories to collectively tell a bigger story. These representatives saw the programme as an opportunity to showcase their community and therefore aid particular organisational aims, such as community engagement, advocacy, and fundraising. Simondson notes that many of the final outputs act as promotional videos or clips for the community they represent. For example, some of the stories from the Lebanese Community Project might be used by the Lebanese Hall to support funding applications, or to provide information about its members on its website (Simondson 2012a, interview, 16 Nov).  The clustering process links certain Australians to various identity-political categories, for example, women, youth, and ethnic minorities. Migration was one of the first themes to be pursued by the digital storytelling programme. Projects resulting from this theme involved the demarcation of particular Australians, according to understandings of ethnic experiences. For example, the projects: Stories from the Lebanese community (2007); Stories from the Jewish Community (2007); Enduring Stories: Migrant Stories (2007) and La Voce del Popolo (The Voice of the People): Stories from the Italian Community (2003). Social demography organises other stories, including Western Stories (2005-2006); Craig Family Centre Stories (2005) and Building Better Lives (2010), and feature disadvantaged community members, including disabled persons and, very often, migrants. Whether ACMI is workshopping digital storytelling skills with individual members of the public, a community group, or trainers, the structure remains mostly the same and is facilitated according to the conventional three-day programme framed by the CDS. ACMI will often organise a briefing event in advance of the workshop commencement date. This briefing allows people to familiarise themselves with the structure of digital stories and begin to consider potential storylines. The seven steps of storytelling are then facilitated over the three days. The first day begins with the Story Circle in which people develop their basic scripts or story ideas into clear narratives. Sessions on each step of the production process are delivered across the remaining two days to the entire working group, for example, how to edit, or how to do Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  88 voiceovers. These steps are designed in accordance with the CDS’ Seven Steps, moving the author successively from script development through to image and sound editing in succession. While everyone in the project is involved in these mini-sessions, they are necessarily at the same stage of production. ACMI endeavours to keep everyone working at a similar pace, however, it inevitably takes some people longer than others to master certain skills. Simondson notes that some people also find it emotionally harder to articulate their story and consequently spend longer periods of time on script development. At the end of the third day, the workshop trainers screen each person’s story to the group at large, regardless of how complete it is. The trainers see this shared screening as one of the most important aspects of the process, arguing that it allows participants to feel a sense of closure and fosters the personal ‘transformation’ element that the genre strives to accomplish (Simondson 2012a, interview, 16 Nov). Following the workshop, ACMI staff spends a few days on post-production, which includes adding the credits and end titles, and creating a DVD package. Methodologically, ACMI has adopted the CDS model, clearly illustrated by the similarities between the stories available on the organisations’ respective websites, which reflect the model. However, unlike the CDS and many other digital storytelling programmes, ACMI’s core aim is to produce high-quality moving image stories. Where the CDS and other digital storytelling practitioners focus primarily on the process of digital story making, ACMI’s focal point is the end-product, or creating ‘the best quality digital story’ (Simondson 2012a, interview 16 Nov). While mediation occurs in all digital storytelling work, it could be argued that intervening to control quality jeopardises the “authenticity” of the stories. Simondson is well aware of this potential problem but does not dwell on it. Her goal and responsibility as ACMI’s Public Programs Director is to impart some of the knowledge the institution has regarding moving image to the public to enable ordinary people to up-skill in the medium. She states:   we’ve always worked towards making the best content possible because we’re a moving image organisation, fundamentally we’re really interested in how moving image stories are put together and we have a lot of skill base in that and a lot of knowledge to impart in that (Simondson 2012a, interview, 16 Nov).   Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  89 This position contrasts with the CDS’ position and that of many contemporary digital storytelling practitioners that focus heavily on process rather than end-product.36 As Simondson acknowledges, the CDS approach entails a stronger social justice and community empowerment agenda. ACMI engages with social justice in some ways, but its agenda prioritises moving image quality. ‘Quality’ for ACMI means sleek design and professional presentation of moving image outputs. ACMI works to maintain a high-quality product by ensuring particular production and methodological elements are in place, including: highly-skilled staff in the art of narrative and scriptwriting; close supervision of the community’s use of technology; specific ordering of workshop steps; and collaboration between facilitators and participants where necessary. Finally, the post-production process allows ACMI staff to tweak the final presentation of the digital story.  Distinguishing between the social justice agenda of the CDS and ACMI’s quality agenda follows the rationale that prioritising social justice or community democracy will likely be detrimental to the quality of the digital story. If we trace the logic used by Simondson to differentiate these approaches to digital storytelling, we begin to see not only the ways in which ‘quality’ informs ACMI’s digital storytelling programme, but also how notions of ‘quality’ are embroiled in discourse pertaining to community-based arts projects at large. In particular, it illustrates an ongoing tension between concepts of community, art, and quality. Simondson echoes a long-standing sentiment that artistic practice relating to community aspirations operates in a field removed from artistic excellence. This sentiment has a complex, shifting history in Australia, which Hawkins (1993) does a thorough job mapping and that Khan (2011) more recently readdresses. Hawkins utilises Bourdieu (1980) to explain that, historically, aesthetic value has been determined by society’s elite, according to a Western system of thought. Ultimately, this value system produced “others” who were excluded from participating in this artistic realm. Community consequently acted as the ‘convenient category in which to group all those left out in the cold by the restricted and elitist definitions of value constituted by the discourse of excellence’ (Hawkins 1993, p. 13). Since ‘community’ has acted as the site of political struggle and investment, community-based arts has conventionally privileged process over product (Khan 2011, p. 4). As Khan argues, community-based art has emphasised: ‘the participatory nature of these processes’, arguing for ‘their purportedly transformative effects’ 																																								 																				36 For example, Curious Works, a well-established not-for-profit organisation that works with Australian communities on new media projects, including digital storytelling projects. (Curious Works is discussed in Chapter Seven.) Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  90 and involving in turn a ‘tension surrounding the role of the expert in these processes’.37 ACMI is clearly embedded within these tensions—on the one hand it acts as the ‘expert’ for digital media; on the other it works to activate and empower communities.  Regardless of ACMI’s quality control element, it remains the case that certain notions of community inform every aspect of its digital storytelling programme. How community is defined and mobilised by ACMI, as well as what implications this mobilisation has for the genre and the community it represents, requires close attention. While “community” might seem implicit in this “everyday” genre, the use of such terms has, as outlined earlier, a tendency to operate in fluctuating ways. Chapter One described how the popularity of terms like ‘everyday’ in arts programmes has become indicative of an on overall attempt in Australia and the broader West to capture power relations as they are materially lived. As such, ACMI not only relies on everyday communities and their stories, it also contributes to particular formations of the everyday person and the community within which they are embedded.  While the organisation is not as flexible or as critically engaged as some digital storytelling practitioners, its approach remains embedded within an ideology of community empowerment and democracy—it encourages individual participation in order to enable broader community aspirations, including the desire for recognition, justice, and inclusion. This approach stems from the common community-based arts argument that art and culture should focus on process rather than output (Hawkins 1993, p. 157). By focussing on process, community-based art programmes attempt to foster ‘spontaneous cultural practice’, valuing meaningful daily experience, encouraging reflection on everyday life, and providing greater opportunity for new, meaningful relationships to develop (Hawkins 1993, p. 21, 157). ACMI’s digital storytelling programme clearly appeals to community groups in an attempt to create more genuine relationships between ‘artist’ (in this case, the visual literacy expert) and ‘audience’, namely, the general public (see Hawkins 1993, p. 116). ACMI has established some tactics for its work with community groups that appear to negotiate the tenuous position the organisation occupies as both an advocate of everyday community art and a producer of high-quality artwork. In particular, there is the use of a trust figure and copyright control in its digital storytelling programme. The trust figure is a person who is well-known and highly regarded by the community group and who acts as its 																																								 																				37 The flipside argument is that any art that emphasises professionalism or excellence in accordance with the conventional notions found in art history is not authentic and somehow undermines the cultural values and aspirations of communities. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  91 spokesperson. By liaising with this representative, ACMI is able to structure its approach in a way with which the selected community group will have an affinity and will, in turn, feel more comfortable and safe in sharing stories. The use of the trust figure also helps ACMI convince individual community members that they have ‘a story worth sharing in public’, the realisation of which is, in many cases ‘an acquisition of agency’ (Vivienne and Burgess 2013, p. 286). This agency is further harnessed by participants when they dictate how the stories they co-create with ACMI will be used. The authors retain copyright of their stories and decide whether or not the stories will be distributed online, in public arenas, or used solely as personal memorabilia.  The use of the trust figure is a logistical tactic that also assists ACMI’s goal of producing high-quality moving image products. ACMI does not have the capacity to mobilise communities, for example, via community consultations, information sessions, and so on. Without the trust figure, Simondson (2012a, interview, 16 Nov) feels community groups would be less likely to commit to the full three days of the workshop, and it would also be difficult to gather adequate content for the production of digital stories. Furthermore, ACMI can more easily brief trust figures on what kinds of ordinary stories make for “good” digital stories. The representatives usually know what community stories will be the right fit and length for the ACMI programme. Much of the ‘filtering’ therefore gets carried out in advance of the workshop (Simondson 2012a, interview, 16 Nov).  It can be seen that ACMI strives for ethical community practice so as to enable what Zizi Papacharissi (2010) describes as the ‘digitally enabled citizen’. Nonetheless, it remains the case that the digital story form acts to legitimise the authenticity of the story/experience presented by the produced digital stories. Simondson differentiates the process of digital storytelling from other ACMI-led community-based media projects, suggesting that the latter projects involve more production, professionalism, and, ultimately, control. This distinction reflects the common viewpoint evidenced in the literature review—namely, the digital storytelling genre is a hands-on form of media making and is, therefore, less susceptible to issues about authenticity. ACMI’s digital storytelling programme carries this judgment even though it clearly creates a particular environment for storytelling in the workshops and organises the set and script for its stories to some degree. The following section takes two digital stories created from one of ACMI’s Migrant Stories projects to consider how the individual stories reflect broader understandings of multiculturalism and cultural diversity in Australia. Digital citizens are certainly enabled by the creation of these stories. But what kind of citizen is enabled and on whose terms? Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  92 E t h n i c  P e r f o r m a t i v i t y  i n  S a m  H a d d a d ’ s  L o v i n g  L e b a n o n  a n d  A u s t r a l i a  a n d  F a t m a  C o s k u n ’ s  N e w  L i f e ,  N e w  C o u n t r y   The following discussion focusses on two digital stories that illustrate the common patterns evidenced in the ACMI-produced migrant digital stories. Sam Haddad’s (2007) Loving Lebanon and Australia (LLAA) and Fatma Coskun’s (2007) New Life, New Country (NLNC) are both typical of a digital story co-created with ACMI in order to ‘document diverse voices’ (Simondson 2012a, interview, 16 Nov). The stories were gathered in community-based workshops—the first from the project Stories from the Lebanese Community; the second from Enduring Stories: Migrant Stories. LLAA describes Sam’s transition into Australian life after migrating from Lebanon in the 1970s. His transition was often difficult, especially in the beginning, but the story finishes on a proud, satisfied note. Fatma’s story also provides a summary of her migration experience, beginning with the difficult decision to leave her home and family in the small village of Corum, Turkey and ending with her happy life in Australia today. The stories are structurally and aesthetically typical of the migrant digital story, involving linear movements through clear beginning, middle and end sections; the seamless condensing of tumultuous migration experiences, and recognisable signposts such as family photography and personal voice-overs. As Chapter Five will demonstrate, these typical digital stories also circulate particular affective economies.  N a r r a t i v e  S t r u c t u r e   The digital stories featured on ACMI’s online collection tend to be divided into three parts, indicative of the journey narrative of the genre. The respective narratives of LLAA and NLNC are segmented as follows: an opening (or introduction); a main event where “something happens”, and a conclusion or resolution. In the first section, the narrator introduces themselves by using ‘I am a..../I am the....’ statements, or, in past tense, ‘I was a…./I was the....’ statements. Importantly, the opening consists of clear statements that subjectively position the narrator. For example, Fatma opens her story with the statement: ‘I was born the seventh child of poor farmers’. In the second, or bridging section of the culturally-diverse digital story, a Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  93 journey through time/place/culture and, ultimately, ‘sense of self’ occurs. This part can be viewed as a type of liminal space whereby the subjects of the stories grapple (sometimes more directly than others) with being “neither here nor there”, both in terms of place but also in terms of identity. The ‘moment of change’ identified by the author in the Storytelling Circle is often placed right before this section; acting as the catalyst for the transitional phase. It is the stage when the question “who am I?” is typically tackled.  Movement through a liminal space is very obvious in Sam’s LLAA, which, with the help of various aesthetic and audio techniques, sharply cuts from a fairly mundane and peaceful opening to a serious and difficult section, or what Lambert would likely refer to as Sam’s ‘moment’. This moment is queued not only by the change in music and the lowered tone of Sam’s voice, but by a verbal indication—after describing how much he enjoys his dual cultural affiliations, he suddenly says: ‘but it wasn’t always like that’. Sam’s moment of change is a violent one, involving an altercation with a co-worker at his first Australian job. Sam retells how, following relentless taunting about his ethnicity at his new job, he lost his temper and punched the bully worker in the jaw. This scene is moment of foreboding in the digital story; however, it quickly transitions to a lighter representation of Sam and the Australian lifestyle. Sam proceeds to relate how this violent act won the respect of many of his new co-workers, who then began to socialise with him at work and after hours.  Reflecting the narrative structure of most stories in this collection, LLAA then moves into a third and final section by returning to the opening statement/position and redefining it according to the experience of crossing the liminal space. The author reaches some form of conclusion about themselves: ‘Now I am “this” or “that”’. In LLAA, this third section is once again sharply cut to, transitioning suddenly from the confusion of the violent incident to a sequence of happy and rewarding stories with accompanying pictures. In this closing section, Sam describes how he went on to achieve many things and today respects and enjoys the Australian way of life alongside his Lebanese heritage. The movement through these three sections is also evident in NLNC. However, the liminal space is represented far more subtly, almost to the point of non-existence, with the before and after sections strongly emphasised instead. After a brief summary of her life from birth to marriage, Fatma describes how she and her husband decide to migrate to Australia due to financial hardship in Turkey. She touches on the emotional difficulty of saying goodbye to her mother and father, and the issues faced during the migration application. The parting with her father is shown to be particularly difficult for Fatma. Proportionately, the digital story Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  94 spends a significant amount of time focussing on this separation and she explains, ‘We became even more sad when my father with tears in his eyes said, “I wish I could help you. Go work hard and be happy”’. She closes this scene with the haunting statement: ‘It is impossible to forget the look on his face’. Fatma and her husband are initially called from the immigration “waiting list” by mistake, and for a day they believe they will have to stay in Turkey, despite having sold their home and material belongings. Fatma feels suspended, knowing she has nowhere to return to and, as yet, nowhere to move onto. The immigration department spends a day considering their application and finally decides to approve it. Fatma and her family are in Australia within twenty-four hours. She explains her high level of anxiety about the new country and what lay ahead. These worries and tensions are briefly mentioned but quickly dismissed. In a similar way to Sam in LLAA, Fatma cuts abruptly to the present time where life with her family is happy and financially stable: ‘Time flew and twenty years went by…’ Before she concludes, she describes the event of her parents visiting her in Australia. It is represented as a joyful time, and there is a sense that she is comforted by her Dad’s approval of the country. Fatma concludes her story in a similar fashion to Sam: ‘We had no problems anymore ... We are very happy. We love Australia very much’. The narrative resolution for both Sam and Fatma is that they have achieved success and happiness in Australia in spite of the difficulties involved in migration. For viewers, the stories provide a brief insight into the migration experience, in particular, the emotional and practical difficulties faced when leaving a home country, adjusting to a new way of life, and attempting to juggle different cultural values in a new place. They give a sense of the bravery required to make such a move and pay homage to what is, in most cases, a working class group of people who contribute to the Australian labour market with gusto. In their analysis of queer digital stories, Vivienne and Burgess (2013) argue that the act of paying homage to an identity journey via a digital story leads to an important transformation. They write: ‘Making a digital story involves a journey that is both conscious and unconscious, in many cases a trip from marginalization to advocacy and cultural engagement’ (2013, p. 288).  Both narrators of LLAA and NLNC undertake a transformative passage. The sequencing of events and the careful editing of techniques moves Sam and Fatma from a place of displacement and even desolation to a place of security and success. They become agents of “themselves” but also agents for marginal ethnic cultures inside the dominant Australian culture. Sam, in particular, emphasises his continual involvement with the Turkish community Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  95 in Australia, projecting pride as he describes his role as a community leader and representative. Simondson (2012a, interview, 16 Nov) describes this transformation as inherent to the ACMI programme:  if you think about people getting to that point where they are dealing with quite personal things, and that [these things] are a point of their life that mark them, the transformation comes in the making content ... so, often people will be very teary and it’s really, really hard to tell their stories, and... and they wonder whether they’re going to be able to do the voiceover without tearing up … but … they don’t often do that because by the time they get to that stage they’re actually constructing their story, so there’s... there’s sort of some kind of process in the revealing and sharing and writing and distilling it and then [emphasises word] actually literally having to do these processes that construct the story to make it. And then there’s the... this incredible pride [emphasises word] when they view the content and realise they’ve produced something and that they’ve produced something that has resonance and means a lot to them and … it says a lot about … the writing of that script…. The scripting process is really important, you know … It wouldn’t be transformative if they stood and talked as an interview to a camera, it’s not the same thing.  Here, Simondson sheds light on the highly emotive and tumultuous nature that the digital storytelling transformation takes. However, in the typical digital story, the transition from new migrant to settled Australian (a prodigious transformation in reality) happens relatively smoothly and swiftly. As such, the typical migrant digital story acts as a tool of assimilation into a white Australian narrative. LLAA and NLNC are premised on the view that, while difference constitutes Australia, the difference is relatively small and, inevitably, “ethnic Australians” share similar values and pursue similar aspirations. Certainly, the stories allow for an opening in dialogue and connection that might otherwise remain closed. One of the issues of this narrative format, however, is that the authoritative signpost is always and so obviously Australia—an imagined white Australia—and this makes it difficult for Fatma and Sam to move beyond the structure that binds their respective digital story narratives to the normative narrative of Australian multiculturalism. This narrative reads: we [white, Anglo-Celtic Australia] opened our doors to give others [non-white, non-Anglo-Celtic migrants] a “fair go”; we acknowledged that it was hard for them, but by working hard and assimilating to our values they succeed and we are thus a happy, multicultural nation. Obviously this is a simplified version of what has been a complicated, messy history, but it remains the case that this informs the celebratory rhetoric of multiculturalism in this country. Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  96 The three-part narrative that informs both Fatma’s and Sam’s digital stories can be seen to correlate broadly to the three key points of Australia’s multicultural success rhetoric, and the ways Fatma and Sam are positioned as multicultural subjects. Fatma and Sam discuss the difficult decision to migrate to Australia, and the hardships faced once they do decide. They are shown to work painstakingly in factories upon arrival; in fact, Fatma tells us that she and her husband began working the day after arriving in Australia. After travelling through this confusing, neither-here-nor-there period, they come to love the Australian way of life. Fatma states: ‘Because we were working, we did not have any financial problems … we could afford whatever we wanted … We had no problems anymore. We are very happy’. Similarly, in the final sequences of the digital story Sam describes: ‘this accident [the physical fight with his co-worker] helped me develop values about mateship [and] tolerance ... Australia took me into her arms and taught me to respect others’. What emerges then is a subjective positioning of Fatma and Sam that mirrors the normative narrative: they take the opportunity to migrate to Australia, it is very difficult and at first they are troubled by the differences and uncertainty, however, they work hard and adopt Australian values and are, in turn, fulfilled.  The particular ordering of the narrated scenes in the stories thus works to create a linear movement of time and space and generates an understanding of Australian history as cause and effect. This ordering simplifies the complexities and nuances of the migration experience, smoothing over the disjuncture caused by migration and that results in a constant oscillation between past and present/there and here/then and now. At no point in NLNC and LLAA does the back and forth movement between home and away cease for Fatma and Sam. Both the characters represent “completeness”, however, there is constant referral back to the homeland—explicitly through Sam who shows pictures of himself celebrating Lebanese cultural traditions while surrounded by the Australian flag; implicitly through Fatma who points to an unresolved discord in her father-daughter relationship. Describing her parents’ visit, Fatma focusses on her father’s reaction: ‘when my father left he was smiling. He said, “Daughter, I wish you had invited us here twenty years ago. How beautiful this country is. We would live here. We would not go back”’. Although this scene is painted as a moment of pride and triumph, there is a tension that hovers above the narrative, forming an unspoken discomfort that alludes to unfulfilled wishes, longings, and regrets. This tension is reinforced because Fatma’s recently spoken words, ‘it is impossible to forget the look on [Dad’s] face’, still resonate. What emerges in NLNC is a sense that Fatma is inhabiting what Phanuel Antwi, Sarah Brophy, Helene Strauss and Y-Dang Troeung (2013, p. 5) term an ‘anxious Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  97 entanglement’ of two conflicting narratives and the related affects: ‘the happy fictions of success and inclusion’ that dominate accounts of multiculturalism and ‘the various interruptive texts and textures that emerge from the accumulated everyday experience of various forms of structural violence’. The memory of her father and his aspirations constantly interrupt the easy flow of Fatma’s narrative.   A e s t h e t i c  T e c h n i q u e s   The selection and placement of images is a vital part of the digital storytelling genre and, in the cases of NLNC and LLAA, for the performance of ethnicity in the Australian context. In a similar way to the speech act, images perform a type of cumulative symbolism. Digital stories build on one another not just in terms of narrative tendencies but also in terms of the visual signposts used. Patricia Holland’s (1991) work on photography demonstrates the ways in which everyday snapshots help us to make sense of the world and ourselves within it. Snapshots also help to keep some sense of cohesiveness alive in an increasingly fragmented world—a particularly relevant feature for migrant Australians who, as discussed, live within a fractured framework of place and time. Overall, Sam and Fatma mostly use images that have a clear and obvious referent, or what the genre refers to as explicit imagery. These types of images represent whatever it is the authors are referring to verbally in a direct manner; for example, Fatma uses personal family pictures when introducing her family members, and a personal picture of her workplace when she refers to her Australian job. Likewise, Sam uses pictures of his former homeland Lebanon when he mentions his birthplace. The use of this imagery reflects the aim of digital stories to “show rather than tell”, and assists the viewer to build a cohesive understanding of Sam and Fatma as migrant Australians. While moving image, most commonly home video, is sometimes used in digital stories, LLAA and NLNC use only still imagery, drawing on photographs from private collections and publicly available images, including ACMI’s image library. One of the first images Sam uses when talking of Lebanon has the feel of a coloured encyclopaedia image. The picture is of a people-less space filled with ruins that, together with Sam’s verbal narration, leads the viewer to ascertain this place to be “Lebanon”. Similarly, Sam uses a black-and-white picture of a large ship coming into port when he mentions his Australian arrival. This particular image is used in Mediating Everyday Multiculturalism 		  98 many other digital stories co-created with ACMI about migration and is also reminiscent of photographs popularly used in public documents to represent Australia’s post-war migration. The images are selected and manipulated in a way that invites the viewer to “come along for the journey”; a very particular journey that moves the subject along a trajectory of performance: the ending of which is, in one way or another, a ‘performative accomplishment’ (Butler 1997b). Pictures of mementos like passports or postcards are frequently used in the migrant digital story and are evidenced in both NLNC and LLAA. These obvious images make immediate sense to viewers as they represent travel on a global scale: one cannot legally leave a country nor enter another one without a passport, thus making it a global (and nationalistic) document of surveillance, national borders, and mobility. Similarly, Sam persistently uses images including the Australian flag and the Lebanese flag, indicating his movements from one nation to another. As the story moves from photos of ruins at Lebanon to pictures of Sam shaking hands and signing his Citizenship documents surrounded by Australian flags, the narrator’s successful journey from Lebanese to Australian is ratified.  Two other aesthetic techniques aid the affirmation of the journey narrative: the shift in image style over the course of the digital story from black and white to colour; and the use of the slideshow format. Both NLNC and LLAA use imagery that shifts f