Merriam Webster defines a republic as “a government in which supreme power resides in a body of citizens entitled to vote and is exercised by elected officers and representatives responsible to them”. The caveat here, of course, is that the citizen bears little power, if any at all. The supposed power held by the citizen is legally bequeathed to the government in the process of voting, meaning that the opportunity to assume and assert power is fleeting and contingent at best.

Still, there is something unique about this definition. Contrary to thoughts regarding the innate hierarchy of systems of power that suggest it to run top-down, the definition challenges this fundamental assumption by presupposing the power of the citizen over and above the power of the institution. But there is another form of power that precedes the body of citizens and one that is nearly impenetrable to the influence of institutional forms of power only if and when it is understood as so. This power is consciousness.

The inspiration for [re]public spaces draws upon the struggle between one’s individual consciousness and the institution, such as the state or the corporate body, in an effort to define and take ownership of everyday public spaces and our activities within—this can also be described as the quotidian. The body of work seeks to look at the seemingly banal ways in which the individual citizen of a public environment engages with and responds to power.

Participation in the quotidian assumes a degree of consent in the very same way as our consumption of products within it indicates our subscription to a particular set of rules of engagement that are defined by different forms of institutional power; it also illustrates our willingness to negotiate our autonomy.

These forms of institutional power overlap to construct a complex network of power. In many ways, this network of power is represented in space through the various ways in which the public is surveyed.

Surveillance has been thoughtfully embedded into our everyday existence. Its presence indicates a relation of power between an observer and the observed. Such a dichotomy points to a hierarchy within itself where surveillance represents the presence of authority and subjugation. It reminds participants in a given space of the appropriate conduct for that space, which suggests that the intent of surveillance is to ultimately conduct our conduct.

The notion of surveillance challenges human agency. Ironically, technologies, like video cameras, and many other forms of indirect surveillance that conduct behaviour, like street signs, take the place of the observer; they act as an extension of the observer’s senses, including their consciousness in many respects. These methods neither confer power on to the actual instrument, nor do they suggest that the instrument is innately powerful. Rather, they enhance the power of the institution by extending their control beyond the physical reach of a human being.

This extension represents the preservation of ideologies embedded within humanist values. It maintains the autonomy of the people involved in exerting power and offers primacy toward their ability to rationalize and to choose as a superior function over a device’s symbolic meaning or technological capabilities, which were, of course, crafted by a human and appropriated for a unique human purpose, thus dispelling also notions of technological determinism. This idea of humanist values, namely that of agency and autonomy, is central in a discussion on power relations because at the end of the day, agency and autonomy are the principal subject of control but also the only means of emancipation.

Surveillance as a symbol of the institution also portrays the public as child-like and inferior, and in need of nurturing, guidance and protection; the institution assumes a level of supreme knowledge by expressing what is right and wrong through various mechanisms. The presence of government undermines the individual’s agency and their ability to make sound judgment about what is acceptable behaviour and what is not. It denies them their freedom of expression. It defines the individual by creating a discourse through which he/she can be understood. In a troubling way, this discourse is self perpetuated by the individual through his/her repeated subscription to various forms of power.

The individual expresses vulnerability through subscription, participation and consumption. Via these processes, he or she relinquishes, to some degree, his/her individuality as part of another process: conformity. The institution exploits the need to be wanted because the institution is rarely, if ever, inclusive in and of itself. This requires one to amend oneself accordingly to ensure acceptance within different forums.

Still, the individual thoughts of a citizen can remain unscathed despite intervening attempts by forms of power to affect processes of thought and resultant perceptions of the world around them. The individual simply needs to acknowledge their place in this system. Some refer to this as enlightenment.

The suppression implied by surveillance motivates individuals to find ways to speak to one another without speaking, per se, just as the institution makes its presence known without physically being present. This private expression comes in many forms. There is nothing nuanced or particularly complicated about the concept. Space, just as it is defined by the institution, can be appropriated by the individual for their own purposes, as well.

We observe this in particularly discreet ways and intimate places and yet the messages come to us loudly and publically. Notes on a bathroom walls; subtle attempts to customize our belongings; even the act of humming to one’s self. These acts represent the ways in which the individual makes the space around them their own.

The question that always seems to remain contentious in any discussion on power is one of intent. A camera is purposively positioned by a particular person or body to survey a specific facet of space. A stop sign is intentfully situated to instruct one to stop at that exact spot. This can be said with certainty. But it would be foolish and quite fallacious to assume that the effects produced as these examples compound are in anyway the objective of an organized network of power. In fact, the disorganization of the larger network of power is what makes it so easy for the individual to (re)claim a given space. Power is dispersed and decentralized. It flows through the network in many overlapping forms. It is rhizomatic and not hierarchical, meaning the network is easily penetrated by the unpredictable will and consciousness of an individual.

What is democracy? Communists are said to have claimed that the Soviet dictatorship was the only true proletariat democracy, while Hitler and Mussolini are both said to have believed that their respective systems of governance were higher, more real forms of democracy (Shields, 1958: pp 29).

Democracy can be understood simply as a system of governance. Its roots lay in Plato’s Republic emerging from the Greek word demokratia – rule of the people (ibid). However, this definition is hardly exhaustive and as such, fails to capture its complexity when we consider that democracy, as defined by the Merriam-Webster (2010), “is a form of government in which the supreme power is vested in the people and exercised by them directly or indirectly through a system of representation”. The Oxford English Dictionary (2004) maintains this definition but adds that a “democracy is a state of society characterized by a formal equality of rights and privileges”.

It is difficult to realize such a system even when we live and abide by said system here in Canada. Perhaps it best materializes itself in the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms (the Charter), which establishes a national code of practice within Canada. In this respect, Democracy can be considered an ideology in Gramscian terms as it “provides people with rules of practical conduct and moral behaviour” within the state (Simon, pp 58).

In his analysis of hegemony, Antonio Gramsci (1971) identifies the state as one of two superstructures of power; the other is civil society (Gramsci, 1971: pp 12). Unlike other Marxians prior to him, Gramsci did not perceive power as a top-down process. Rather, he saw power as a force exerted via the process of hegemony, whereby the cultural values of the ruling elite became the common sense of the masses. In this way, much like Foucault (1980), Gramsci suggests that power is best understood as a relation. As civil society adopts these ideologies as common sense, and therefore general practice, they passively contribute to the maintenance of the status quo and sustain the power of the elite.

Hegemony is expressed though consent and coercion (Simon, 1991: pp 12). The Charter is an imposed form of legal coercion that enforces discipline on all members of society with the consent of its members. It is coercive in that members must abide to it or they will suffer legal consequences. It is consensual in that subscription to the Charter provides consent to the ruling elite. Thus, the Charter represents an instrument of an overarching hegemonic power.

This is not to say that the Charter is neither purposeful nor valuable. The Charter protects the basic human rights of Canadians and perhaps it represents those of other societies and nations at large. Though, as will be discussed below, this latter view may be considered imposing and ethnocentric. The Charter is used as a means of illustration to show that hegemony and power need not always be considered pejoratively. It also shows that the process of hegemony is hinged upon the passivity of civil society and their reluctance to question the ways in which power is imposed and behaviour is regulated.

Perhaps one of the effects of such coercion though, is that it establishes a dichotomy of appropriate behaviour. That is to say, if one does not comply with democracy or the rules suggested by it, and certainly the agents that purport it, than one must be wrong and for that reason deviant. The imposition of such a standard presupposes its supremacy over any other socio-political system of governance and suggests ethnocentrism.

In creating this dichotomy and advocating it in concert with other supporters of democracy who bear a control over the flow of information, Edward Said (1993) proposes that a new form of imperialism has emerged. Cultural imperialism, as he calls it, is expressed when the dominant power is further aided by the capabilities of such channels of dissemination that them to rule a territory from a distance in their ability to disseminate information over large areas without having to physically enter the borders of another nation or leave their own (Said, 1993: pp 6-9).

It seems as if Said’s worries are premised on a cultural studies perspective (Hall, 1980), which might question the type of information being imbued upon recipient nations. More specifically, from this perspective, Said is expressing anxiety over the information that might be excluded and the implications of such on the recipient.

I recognize the need for concern in this area. Communication created in and disseminated by one social system and input into another may not represent the cultural values of the recipient. It is logical to infer that such incongruence could result in a degradation of the unique culture of the recipient’s land. However, Said pays little respect to recipient nation’s agency and makes a number of assumptions in doing so.

Said assumes that the content will be understood as it is intended by the sender or in the same way it would in its home territory; second, that it will be absorbed by the recipient nation in such a ways so to form an extension of the sending nation. I concede that in support of Gramsci’s thesis, when receiving nations buy into incoming content foreign content, be it print or television, or actively seek out content on the Internet, an argument can be made that civil society willingly consents to the dominant power. However, I question Said’s anxiety until I have the opportunity to look further into how recipient nations manage incoming foreign content and what it is that they do with it.

Democracy is a socio-political system of governance. The notion of governance implies a head of state and a code of conduct. The notion of a system implies that the state serves a particular function. For a system to function, it must have boundaries and order. These boundaries are shaped through ideologies that are, in Gramsci’s eyes, purported by the state and absorbed unquestionably by the majority of civil society. Therefore, democracy is an ideology. It, along with other ideologies, need not be viewed through a negative lens, though much of the discourse surrounding ideologies suggests otherwise. The point to be made here is that ideologies involve politics of exclusion. That is to say, they exclude those which fail to conform and assume supremacy over them.

Works Cited:

Foucault, M. (1980). Truth and Power. In Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972-1977 (pp.109-33). New York: Pantheon.

Gramsci, A. (1971). The Intellectuals. In Selections from the Prison Notebooks. New York: International Publishers.

Hall, S. (1980) Cultural Studies: two paradigms. In Media, Culture and Society 2, pp 57-72

No Author, (2010). Merriam Webster Online Dictionary. Retrieved March 1, 2010 from Merriam Webster Website: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/democracy

Barber. K. (Ed) (2004). Oxford English Dictionary. New York: Oxford University Press

Said, E. (1993). Culture and Imperialism. New York: Vintage.

Shields, C. (1958). Democracy and Catholicism in America. Toronto: McGraw-Hill

Simon, R. (1991). Hegemony & Ideology. Gramsci’s Political Thought: An Introduction (pp. 22-29 & 59-67). London: Lawrence& Wishart.

Cheers to taking a chance.

The peculiar thing about music is the means through which it allows the listener to escape in the most passive way, and yet, the music industry is perhaps one of the most restricted businesses out there. This is especially true in light of recent shifts in copyright legislation both at home and abroad, like the US Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), which criminalizes the dissemination of atrists works through digital means in what would have previously been considered fair use (or fair dealing, here in Canada). It is specifically targeted at those who use the unregulated internet as a means of circumventing the copyright laws of the World Intellectual Property Organization (WIPO). The Act also restricts how much control artists have over their own music.

Some artists have taken a stance against these shifts and against the amounts of profit for which artists are robbed of by their labels. Canada’s very own Broken Social Scene which is comprised of as few as 6 and as many as 19 members – all of whom perform with other groups or as solo acts – has retained their independent status by working with independant labels and actually give away some of their music for free!

I think BSS stands for something more, though. The groups is a powerful collective of incredible artists, including Feist, Emily Haines and James Shaw from Metric, members from the Stars, and a host of other notable Canadian indie sensations. They represent the power in numbers. Not numbers in terms of wallets; but numbers in terms of how many people they can bring together under one roof, or within one medium, and how seemingly disparate these people can be.

Below is first release off of their forthcoming album, Forgiveness Rock Record, due May 4th. You can listen to it here. If you like it, click on the link above the playbar and you’ll be re-routed to the BSS website where you can download it for free.

Broken Social Scene – World Sick

And because they are so awesome, here are a couple more:

Broken Social Scene – Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old

Broken Social Scene – Almost Crimes

Broken Social Scene – Cause = Time]

Elton John recently caused a stir amongst the Catholic Church and other Christian followers when he proclaimed that Jesus Christ was gay. He said, “I think Jesus was a compassionate, super-intelligent gay man who understood human problems” (AFP, 2010).

The Catholic Church responded by saying, “Jesus was certainly compassionate, but to say he was ‘super-intelligent’ is to compare the son of God to a successful game-show contestant [...]More seriously, to call Jesus a homosexual is to label him a sexual deviant.” (AFP, 2010).

How do we know Jesus Christ was not a homosexual? And what gives the Church the power to respond to John’s statement with such assertion? Perhaps the better question might be: how have we come to know Jesus Christ was not a homosexual? And what processes shape(d) this understanding?

Our understanding of historical matters is defined by story tellers or experts. It is unlikely that any human living on earth today were alive during the period of Christ. All we have to go on are the stories that have been produced and preserved throughout time. It is the combination of these people, texts and influences that shape way in which we speak about, and have come to understand the world around us. This understanding can be referred to as discourse.

The notion of discourse is one of social reality, construction and power. Foucault remarks that he used term to refer to “the general domain of all statements, sometimes as an individualizable group of statements, and sometimes as a regulated practice that accounts for a number of statements” (Foucault 1972:80). While this might seem like a catchall definition and as such, imprecise, it is really quite poignant. Foucault is suggesting that everything we have come to know is part of overlapping discourses. These overlapping discourses form the reality in which we live.

Foucault placed significant importance on how discourses form (Foucault, 1982). His concern with respect to discourse lay not within the ontological question of what we know as true, though in some respects this is tantamount, but the epistemological question of how any give truth became known as true. Foucault’s interests, then, were focused on the processes through which truth is created and the effects of such processes (Foucault, 1982:210).

Consider the example above. What we know of Jesus Christ is limited to canonical texts like the bible and the work of various historians, who are likely involved in some capacity with an institution of sorts that shares social, political, religious and/or economic ties with other institutions at large. And while historians may differ in their interpretation of historic events, including those enshrined in the bible, the forces behind such enshrinement are what actively define discourse and preserve it in a modern state as a form of knowledge and thus power – for  Foucault, the two were inextricably linked (Mills 2003:69).

In keeping with the above example, a Christian discourse does not begin and end with institution of the church, though this may be its primary vehicle. Religion is also supported by other mechanisms like the state. This is best seen in public addresses and state events when officials of endorse their message by saying, ‘In God we trust’, ‘God bless’ or ‘Godspeed’. And though the separation of church and state has widened in recent years as we continue to liberalise in such ways as removing the Lord’s Prayer from public schools, Christian ideals and philosophies remain entrenched in legislation on murder, adultery, theft and other matters pertaining to personal possession, and slander and libel – all matters that can in some way can be linked to the ten commandments. 

Religion, that being the way in which one conceives their existence and performs in such a way as to conform to the practices of such a system of beliefs, is a discourse in and of itself. Religion provides its followers with ways of making sense of social phenomena like life and death. It provides its followers with a code of conduct. It is positioned in relevant time in history and advocated by a leader. One reinscribes to religion in daily practices alone and with one’s family or friends.  Religion is innately marked by a relation of power – a relation between the subscriber and the various mechanisms which drive it.

It is these compounded ways in which one engages with the discursive regime that one experiences the effects of power (Foucault 1980:113). Power, in this and many other cases, need not be interpreted pejoratively. Religion helps to provide its followers meaning and validation. It provides a forum through which followers can express themselves intimately or in congregation with others. Religion unites people. It produces a sense of belonging.

Religion will always be scrutinized under a scientific eye. The stories and sentiments it produces are real and this truth represents a significant form of power that is endlessly validated by multiple and overlapping fields of institutional expertise – the Church, state, education, media and the family, to name a few. It is this regime, this interconnected and overlapping system that sustains a particular discourse and the power embodied within via the knowledge it produces.

What is interesting in this era of Foucault is the lack of agency he affords to the individual. In earlier works he asserts “He who is subjected to a field of visibility, and knows it, assumes responsibility for the constraints of power” (Foucault, 1977:202). But if power is all encompassing by virtue of the fact that it is represented as knowledge produced by overlapping mechanisms of power, how is it that the individual can assume any responsibility or control of power? Does this perspective not rob all agency of the individual in that power is inescapable?

Works Cited:

 Foucault, M (1977). Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. New York: Pantheon

Foucault, M. (1980). Truth and Power. In Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972-1977 (pp.109-33). New York: Pantheon.

Foucault, M. (1982). The Subject and Power. In H. Dreyfus and P. Rabinow. Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and Hermeneutics (pp. 208-26). Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press

Mills, S. (2003). Power/Knowledge. In Michel Foucault (pp.67-79). London: Routledge.

Agence France Press (2010) Jesus was gay: Elton John. Agence-France Press. Retrieved February 21, 2010 from Google News website: http://www.google.com/hostednews/afp/article/ALeqM5gBwbROWRbXldltplXIFYdsBudvKA

Simon, R. (1991). Hegemony & Ideology. Gramsci’s Political Thought: An Introduction (pp. 22-29 & 59-67). London: Lawrence & Wishart.

While under a different government, our home and native land decriminalized homosexuality and made it legal for same-sex couples to marry. But the current Conservative regime, with a failed attempt to ‘re-visit’ said issues in December of 2006 and little currency to undo the past, have opted to take a more coercively-passive approach to maintain their political ideologies and overarching dominant discourse on the matter.

In a new guide for immigrants applying for Canadian citizenship, Minister of Citizenship and Immigration, Jason Kenney, has had any reference to Canada’s progressive strides made on gay rights quashed. The Globe and Mail reported: “Internal documents show an early draft of the guide contained sections noting that homosexuality was decriminalized in 1969; that the Charter of Rights and Freedoms forbids discrimination based on sexual orientation; and that same-sex marriage was legalized nationally in 2005″. Despite having sided with same-sex marriage proponents in the 2005 parliamentary debates, Kenney is said to have “ordered those key sections removed”.

Kenny is but a pawn in much larger game - a game premised on dichotamizing ideologies that invariably forge a rift between the ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. In lieu of the preach on the abandonment of issues of equality for which our country has made many significant movements on its short history, I’d like to note that the politics of exclusion here pose both a hindrance and an instrument of empowerment. 

On the one hand, these ideologies attempt to suppress if not wholly erase history, imposing increased resistance upon the already marginalized; on the other,  the values of a suite of marginalized communities and their thoughts towards the way history is managed on the part of their government are verified, creating a parallel history that can and will be resurrected.

Evenings with the king of faux-compassion, Anderson Cooper, and being spat in the face by Bill O’Reilly can get a little annoying, if not utterly mundane, along with the same local news feed to which we subject ourselves to daily. Mainstream media, represented by an increasingly concentrated market, provides us with a seemingly single pane through which we receive information. That is why I want to feature two alternative media sites:

Launched in 2003, The Tyee is webmag that focuses namely on news and media issues facing the province of British Columbia, but ones that easily resonate throughout Canada and the world at large. As you might suspect, its online front-pages are wrought with olympic coverage at present, but the site continues to carry wide coverage of Canadian arts and culture, and the country’s unique media landscape. The site’s Mediacheck section is a great source for both looking at the politics facing Canada’s increasingly concentrated media scene and new technological innovations. Michael Geist, who I referenced in an earlier post, often writes for the Mediacheck. Click on the log0 below to check it out.

Rabble.ca is an online Canadian daily with a focus on progressive politics. Since its launch in 2001, Rabble’s has published work by noted Canadian leftist writers, including Naomi Klein and Linda McQuaig. The site has become the source of nation-oriented grassroots political discussion and features of variety of resources, including an expansive blogroll featuring some of the country’s most ‘insightful and opinionated progressive activists’, and great series of podcasts. Click on the logo below to check it out.

In an interview in 1980, Michel Foucault said: “the source of human freedom—is never to accept anything as definitive, untouchable, obvious, or immobile” (Bess, 1988:1), a remark that I feel resonates within Paulo Freire’s banking concept of education; one that asks us to consider how inactive our supposed active minds can be and brings into question the methods by which we are discouraged from thinking critically within an institutionalised setting…

Pedagogy is defined as the art, science or profession of teaching (Merriam Webster, 2010). Though I understand it to speak more specifically to the use of teaching practices. That is to say, pedagogy is not synonymous with teaching per se. Rather, it is a way of thinking about the practice of teaching and the implications of such practices for students. Paulo Freire’s work looks at what he refers to as critical pedagogy, which I summarize as the practice of teaching students in a way as that empowers and encourages them to think critically about the ways in which they are dominated (Freire, 1970).

Freier’s banking concept of education suggests that the institution of education teaches students to be passive receptacles of information. This system of pedagogy, or perhaps lack thereof as the case may be in its reflection of my interpretation of the word, fails to encourage students to intervene in their own education because they are regarded as knowing nothing and incapable of thinking for themselves (Freire, 1970:71-74). This assumption leads teachers to provide students with dichotomized information that is, in turn, internalized as either right or wrong. Thus providing students with a fragmented view of reality, purported by and through an assumed notion of truth.

Freire’s concern is that the longer students are subjected to this method of teaching “and the more completely they accept this passive role imposed on them, the more they tend simply to adapt to the world as it is and to the fragmented view of reality deposited on them” (Freire, 1970:73). Ultimately, students receive a regulated view of the world around them. This suggests, that reality is not and cannot be determined, mediated or negotiated in concert with peers, but that it is something that is predetermined.

Consider a 100 question multiple-choice exam that covers an entire semester’s curriculum. At no point in both studying for the exam or in the exam itself is the student permitted to engage the course material beyond the way it has been provided to them in assigned readings or asserted to them in lectures. The information is not up for discussion – it must be memorized and delivered back to the teacher for marking in the same context it was deposited unto the student. Their answers are either right or wrong with no option to consider otherwise. Standardized testing tells a similar story. The very process of such testing assumes first, that there is a systematic set of predefined information that one ought to know by a certain point in their life; and second, that this information is dogmatic in nature. My hesitations in this respect emerge not from what has been provided to students as true, but what has been excluded. Greater concerns arise as I ponder the reasons for which certain information would be excluded.

These methods of testing neither allow students to engage the material, nor permit any form of meaningful engagement between the student and the teacher or the student and his or her peers. Whereas more critical forms of pedagogy are premised on dialogue and an exchange of information, and allow students to learn more about where and how their social reality is formed. A seminar or presentation that requires a student to look at a unique slice of course content and not the entire curriculum is likely to bring about more detailed questions on how and why, whereas the banking practice simply tells students that this is it.

The institution is a stratified organization that is inherently dominant through the ways in which it makes human beings into subjects or subordinates. Michel Foucault believes that the institution is a mechanism of power (Foucault, 1982:218). That is to say, the institution acts as an instrument through which subjugation and oppression flows. Furthermore, because the institution is all encompassing and comprised of smaller, overlapping organizations, we cannot separate ourselves from it. Take our example of the educational institution and step outside onto the street. What is seen is no shortage of direction in the absence of an instructor. The streets are painted in such a way as to orient our conduct, while signs of various colors continue to dictate what is allowed and what is not – what is acceptable behaviour and what is not. Hermer and Hunt (1996) refer to this as official graffiti.

The analysis of official graffiti sets out to draw a comparison between what is normally interpreted as graffiti, i.e. a defacement of public property, and the implementation of regulation by the institution on the streets, which they interpret as a defacement of public space (Hermer & Hunt, 1996:457). For is the very presence of these markings not a denial of public ownership? The definition of public and what can be defined as public space far exceeds the parameters of this analysis. My intent here was to show that the institution extends beyond the physical walls of a building and yet it seems, likely as we were taught, rarely do question its presence in the banal aspects of the quotidian. But this begs another question: what we consider as banal, might it otherwise be significant if it weren’t a habitual matter in our lives and we weren’t bred to think of it as so?

This discussion opened with a quote that I would like to return to as I close: “The source of human freedom—is never to accept anything as definitive, untouchable, obvious, or immobile”. What is suggested here is not a denial or rejection of what we have been taught to believe as true, but a call to the critical mind to consider that what we have been taught should be questioned because it is not always transparent, though it may be presented as so. And perhaps most importantly, the statement implies that what we have been taught is in fact quite mutable – what is true today may not be tomorrow or in another class or social context, thus Foucault suggests reality is socially constructed.

Works Cited:

Bess, M. (1988). Power, Moral Values, and the Intellectual. History of the Present. 4, 11-13 retrieved Janaury 27, 2010 from Vanderbilt University Website: http://www.vanderbilt.edu/historydept/michaelbess/Foucault%20Interview

Freire, P. (2000). The Pedagogy of the Oppressed (pp.71-86). New York: Continuum. (Original work published 1970)

Foucault, M. (1982). The Subject and Power. In H. Dreyfus and P. Rabinow. Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and Hermeneutics (pp. 208-26). Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press

Hermer, J; Hunt A. (1996). Official Graffiti of the Everyday. Law and Society Review, 30 (3), 455-480

No Author, (2010). Merriam Webster Online Dictionary. Retrieved January 27, 2010 from Merriam Webster Website: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/pedagogy