The dialectic of open

Presentation to the Canadian Communication Association, Vancouver, British Columbia, June 6, 2019.

Abstract

In contemporary Western society the word open is used as if the concept were essentially good. This is a logical fallacy; the only concept that is in essence good is the concept good itself. In this paper I will argue that this is a dangerous fallacy that opens the door to misdirection and co-optation of genuine advocates of the public good accidentally through misconception and deliberately by actors whose motives are far from open, that a critical dialectic approach is useful to unravel and counter such fallacies, and present a simple pedagogical technique that I have found to be effective to teach critical thinking to university students in this area. The province of Ontario under the Ford government describes itself as open for business. In this context, open means open for exploitation, and closure is protection for the environment and vulnerable people. This is one example of openwashing, taking advantage of the use of the term by large numbers of “open” advocates whose work is based on very different motives.

Open access, according to the Budapest Open Access Initiative, is a potential unprecedented public good, a collective global sharing of the scholarly knowledge of humankind. A sizable portion of the open access movement is adamant that open access requires nothing less than all of the world’s scholars making their work not only free of charge, but free for downstream manipulation and re-use for commercial purposes. This frees up knowledge for creative new approaches to more rapidly advance our knowledge; it is also a new area for capitalist expansion and can be seen as selling out scholarship. Is this necessary, sufficient, or even desirable to achieve the vision of global sharing of open access? Open education can be seen as the next phase in the democratization of education, a new field for capitalist expansion, a tool for authoritarian control and/or a tool for further control of the next generation proletariat or precariat. Open government can facilitate an expansion of democracy, to further engage citizens in decision-making, a means of enhancing and improving government services, and/or another means of transitioning public services to the private sector that is typical of the (perhaps post) neoliberal era. Proactive open government can mean more transparent, accountable government; it can also mean open access to the documents and data that those in power choose to share. This paper will analyze the rhetoric of key documents from the open movements, evidence presented to support these beliefs, and explore whether these belief systems reflect myth based on misconception and/or misdirection by actors with ulterior motives using a theoretical lens drawn from the political economics, particularly Hegelian dialectics in the tradition of the Frankfurt School and contemporary Marxist analysis.

Link to full presentation:

https://ruor.uottawa.ca/handle/10393/39300

Dɔnko. Études culturelles africaines

Sous la direction d’Isaac Bazié et Salaka Sanou

Pour accéder au livre en version html, cliquez ici.

Pour télécharger le PDF, cliquez ici.

Pour commander le livre en version imprimée au Québec, en France ou en Afrique, cliquez sur le bouton Paypal ci-dessous.

Acheter un livre, c’est nous soutenir et permettre à ceux et celles qui ne peuvent l’acheter de le lire en libre accès.

Comment lire et comprendre les pratiques culturelles africaines? Comment mobiliser les savoirs sur l’Afrique, ses arts et ses cultures sans verser dans la réification ou le folklorisme? Profondément novateur, cet ouvrage collectif mobilise les outils théoriques des cultural studies pour proposer un généreux panorama de l’étude de la culture en Afrique. Il rassemble des textes d’auteurs et d’autrices d’Afrique de l’Ouest, théoriques ou descriptifs, qui mettent en lumière la réévaluation passionnante des modes d’appréhension des pratiques et objets en contexte africain que proposent les études culturelles africaines. L’épilogue qui clôt le livre n’est donc point fermeture, mais plutôt ouverture sur les enjeux relatifs à ce nouveau champ d’études, plein de promesses pour rendre compte de l’extraordinaire créativité des cultures africaines.

ISBN ePub : 978-2-924661-82-6
ISBN pour l’impression : 978-2-924661-81-9
231 pages
Date de publication : juin 2019

DOI : 10.5281/zenodo.3470395

Utilisez le bouton Paypal ci-dessous pour commander le livre imprimé au Canada ou en Europe ou l’obtenir en format ePub (prêtable).  Le livre est disponible dans nos librairies dépositaires : la Librairie du Quartier à Québec, Zone libre à Montréal, à venir pour Paris, Genève et l’Afrique.

Table des matières

Table des matières

Introduction. Regards pluriels sur les cultures africaines comme lieux de savoirs
Isaac Bazié et Salaka Sanou

Le recyclage : un paradigme des études culturelles africaines
Philip Amangoua Atcha

Littérature-monde ou littérature-mode? Éloge du copiage chez Sami Tchak et Alain Mabanckou
Adama Coulibaly

La critique africaine : de l’autorégulation à la systématisation
Kaoum Boulama

Sociologie des petits récits. Essai sur « les écritures de la rue » en contexte africain
David Koffi N’Goran

Littératures africaines et lecture comme médiation. Réflexions sur l’appréhension des cultures africaines à partir des violences collectives dans le roman francophone
Isaac Bazié

Pour une taxinomie des genres littéraires bààtɔnù
Gniré Tatiana Dafia

Le mariage polygamique dans les arts en Afrique. La polyandrie comme parodie de la polygynie dans deux œuvres africaines
Aïssata Soumana Kindo

Masques, alliances et parentés à plaisanterie au Burkina 173 Faso : le jeu verbal et non verbal
Alain Joseph Sissao

Épilogue. D’hier à demain, les études culturelles africaines
Salaka Sanou

***

Pour acheter le livre, choisissez le tarif en fonction de l’endroit où le livre devra être expédié. Des frais de 15 $ sont ajoutés pour le transport. Le ePub (pour lire sur une tablette ou un téléphone) revient à 16 $ et est expédié par courriel.


Donko Etudes culturelles africaines



Amsterdam Launch of Sad by Design @droog June 18, 5 PM

Amsterdam Booklaunch of Geert Lovink, Sad by Design, On Platform Nihilism, Pluto Press, London, 2019

Date: June 18, 2019, 5 PM

Where: @Droog, Staalstraat 7A/B, Amsterdam.

More on the location at www.selfdesign.nl.
Contact: yara@imagesociety.nl, arina@imagesociety.nl

The book will be for sale at the event.

Geert Lovink will give an introduction to the book and have a dialogue with Miriam Rasch (Institute of Network Cultures) about the background of the different chapters.

The event will be closed by the presentation of the musical collaboration between John Haltiwanger and Geert Lovink called ‘We Are Not Sick’. John Haltiwanger will present several newly composed theory songs of the upcoming album and will do a brief presentation about the custom instruments driving the songs and the sloganistic ‘ambient theory machine’ that works with key words and phrases taken from the Sad by Design essay, as heard during the opening and closing of the event.

Book

Just out: the English edition of the Sad by Design book

Please fill out the Urgent Publishing Survey and help us find new strategies in post-truth times

What kind of reading experiences do you look for? What kind of content do you read and where do you find it? Which (digital) tools, formats and forms of reading interest you? Insight in your preferences will help cultural publishers to keep their publishing urgent and experimental. Please help the Making Public-consortium by anonymously filling out the Urgent Publishing Survey (5 minutes): https://nl.surveymonkey.com/r/265FCWT.

SO! Reads: Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow’s Personal Stereo

In Personal Stereo, Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow’s eminently readable history of the Walkman and its kind, it is telling to learn that Sony founders Masaru Ibuka and Akio Morita were prone to conversing in ‘something akin to a private shared language’ or idioglossia. “They would sit there,” recounts Morita’s eldest son, “and we would listen but we had no idea what they were saying” (21).  In later life, following strokes, both lost the ability to speak; Ibuka’s son characterises their subsequent relationship as “communicating without words’.” Even the name Sony itself, notes Tuhus-Dubrow, with its origins in the Latin sonus and the English slang “sonny,” was ultimately “a word in no language’” (13).  It is as though aural perception, delivered on an intimate scale, is somehow revelatory in a way that transcends the typical organising principles of language. The incorporation of the sonic into everyday life forever approaches a kind of affective intensity.

Personal Stereo tunes into this frequency and – by virtue of its array of research and skilful marshalling of social and cultural history – offers a compelling map of its coordinates. If, as part of Bloomsbury’s Object Lessons series, one of its central tasks is to apprehend the affective resonance of the inanimate, it is testament to Tuhus-Dubrow’s work that she is able to manage the breadth of her material into an adroit and concise narrative while at the same time allowing space for her writing to approach these contained moments of intensity. “When I think of [the Walkman] now, I think of joy,” she writes in the introduction (1). While acknowledging that undue celebration of the past can stymie the present, she offers a quietly persuasive case for an examination of nostalgia amid the anxiety of contemporary life, which almost serves as a rallying cry for a generation pinioned between the two: ‘The past, whatever its shortcomings, has the virtue of having already happened. And we survived it.’

The story of the Walkman begins in the bombed-out ruins of 1940s Tokyo, as Ibuka and Morita establish the foundations of the company that would become a consumer electronics giant as part of Japan’s ill-fated post-war boom. It is striking how much of the Walkman’s development was shaped by the ravages of warfare: Tuhus-Dubrow notes how its antecedent, the tape recorder, was first used in the German military, and early headphones were issued to fighter pilots. It is possible to read the subsequent commercial adoption of personal listening devices as an attempted refashioning of the domestic interior, transgressed so violently in acts of conflict. One of Ibuka’s founding principles for Sony was to “apply highly advanced technologies…developed in various sectors during the war to common households” (12).  Tuhus-Dubrow also recounts the case of Andreas Pavel, a native of post-war Berlin, who emigrated with his family to São Paulo and developed what we might term a “counter-prototype” to the Walkman, partly inspired by the internal acoustics of his mother’s home – “a mecca of sound” – in Cidade Jardim. Object lessons are formed through disintegration and salvaged materials. Morita compares his formative partnership with the older Ibuka to a newly-established familial unit: “It was almost as though an adoption were taking place” (13).

Akio Morita (left) and Masaru Ibuka (right), 1961. Courtesy of Sony

This elides neatly with Tuhus-Dubrow’s central chapter, which is also the strongest. Here, she discusses the reception of private listening within the public domain, and how existing societal norms apprehended this new sonic phenomenon. It is intriguing, and at times hilarious, how much of the reaction operates as moral critique: from a 1923 article comparing the very act of solo listening to alcohol abuse or a drug habit, to rather more recent takes that foreshadow the current intergenerational culture wars. “The personal stereo,” harrumphs A.N. Wilson, ‘became the archetypal accessory of the me-generation” (68).

Tuhus-Dubrow’s research is smart and on point, not least because it leads to a productive consideration of how the cathartic element of the private soundtrack becomes something that society struggles to assimilate. She takes to time to weave in personal testimonies and reminiscences that are effective and somehow touching: “the Walkman,” she admits, “was a source of elation and comfort” (85). A friend recalls how “[my] inner world was enriched by the freedom to explore music on my own” (84).  Pavel describes how the first use of his prototype, in the snows of St Moritz, evoked “a state of ecstasy,” in which life temporarily assumed a cinematic quality. “Suddenly,” he remembers, curiously switching to the present tense, “I’m inside a film” (27).

Darryl with a new Walkman, December 25, 1982, Image by Flickr User Kent Kanouse

Others speak of how musical accompaniment aids a more immersive interaction with the world around them, and it is here that perhaps the real strength of Tuhus-Dubrow’s work emerges: the generosity of an approach that permits mutual recognition; the summoning of an experiential quality that is elusive in its definition but vivid and immediate in its resonance. It is a mode of writing – and indeed a mode of listening – that is resolutely contemporary, formed in a firestorm of technological innovation that was both oppressive and liberatory, attuning us to new ways of being at the same time as it degrades and erodes old certainties.

It bears resemblance to what Tuhus-Dubrow recognises as “the logic of our own bodies, with organs and limbs whose motions are connected to their functions, and which are susceptible to injury and gradual breakdown” (102).  Earlier she writes, “as one song neared its end, I would begin to hear the opening chords of the next in my head.”

What is it, this sense of auditory anticipation?

It is the forming of new waves. We have blood in our ears.

Featured Image: “Walkman through the cassette” by Flicker User Narisa (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

Lewis Jones  just completed an MA in Literature & Theory at the University of Sussex, UK, with a particular interest in the affective quality of certain technological modes of representation and their repercussions within social consciousness. He is currently researching and writing on the impact of cinema on urban space.

tape reelREWIND! . . .If you liked this post, you may also dig:

SO! Reads: Hiromu Nagahara’s Tokyo Boogie-Woogie: Japan’s Pop Era and Its Discontents–Shawn Higgins

SO! Reads: Janet Borgerson and Jonathan Schroeder’s Designed For Hi Fi Living–Gina Arnold

SO! Reads: Susan Schmidt Horning’s Chasing Sound: Technology, Culture and the Art of Studio Recording from Edison to the LP— Enongo Lumumba-Kasongo

SO! Reads: Steph Ceraso’s Sounding Composition: Multimodal Pedagogies for Embodied Listening–Airek Beauchamp

SO! Reads: Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow’s Personal Stereo

In Personal Stereo, Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow’s eminently readable history of the Walkman and its kind, it is telling to learn that Sony founders Masaru Ibuka and Akio Morita were prone to conversing in ‘something akin to a private shared language’ or idioglossia. “They would sit there,” recounts Morita’s eldest son, “and we would listen but we had no idea what they were saying” (21).  In later life, following strokes, both lost the ability to speak; Ibuka’s son characterises their subsequent relationship as “communicating without words’.” Even the name Sony itself, notes Tuhus-Dubrow, with its origins in the Latin sonus and the English slang “sonny,” was ultimately “a word in no language’” (13).  It is as though aural perception, delivered on an intimate scale, is somehow revelatory in a way that transcends the typical organising principles of language. The incorporation of the sonic into everyday life forever approaches a kind of affective intensity.

Personal Stereo tunes into this frequency and – by virtue of its array of research and skilful marshalling of social and cultural history – offers a compelling map of its coordinates. If, as part of Bloomsbury’s Object Lessons series, one of its central tasks is to apprehend the affective resonance of the inanimate, it is testament to Tuhus-Dubrow’s work that she is able to manage the breadth of her material into an adroit and concise narrative while at the same time allowing space for her writing to approach these contained moments of intensity. “When I think of [the Walkman] now, I think of joy,” she writes in the introduction (1). While acknowledging that undue celebration of the past can stymie the present, she offers a quietly persuasive case for an examination of nostalgia amid the anxiety of contemporary life, which almost serves as a rallying cry for a generation pinioned between the two: ‘The past, whatever its shortcomings, has the virtue of having already happened. And we survived it.’

The story of the Walkman begins in the bombed-out ruins of 1940s Tokyo, as Ibuka and Morita establish the foundations of the company that would become a consumer electronics giant as part of Japan’s ill-fated post-war boom. It is striking how much of the Walkman’s development was shaped by the ravages of warfare: Tuhus-Dubrow notes how its antecedent, the tape recorder, was first used in the German military, and early headphones were issued to fighter pilots. It is possible to read the subsequent commercial adoption of personal listening devices as an attempted refashioning of the domestic interior, transgressed so violently in acts of conflict. One of Ibuka’s founding principles for Sony was to “apply highly advanced technologies…developed in various sectors during the war to common households” (12).  Tuhus-Dubrow also recounts the case of Andreas Pavel, a native of post-war Berlin, who emigrated with his family to São Paulo and developed what we might term a “counter-prototype” to the Walkman, partly inspired by the internal acoustics of his mother’s home – “a mecca of sound” – in Cidade Jardim. Object lessons are formed through disintegration and salvaged materials. Morita compares his formative partnership with the older Ibuka to a newly-established familial unit: “It was almost as though an adoption were taking place” (13).

Akio Morita (left) and Masaru Ibuka (right), 1961. Courtesy of Sony

This elides neatly with Tuhus-Dubrow’s central chapter, which is also the strongest. Here, she discusses the reception of private listening within the public domain, and how existing societal norms apprehended this new sonic phenomenon. It is intriguing, and at times hilarious, how much of the reaction operates as moral critique: from a 1923 article comparing the very act of solo listening to alcohol abuse or a drug habit, to rather more recent takes that foreshadow the current intergenerational culture wars. “The personal stereo,” harrumphs A.N. Wilson, ‘became the archetypal accessory of the me-generation” (68).

Tuhus-Dubrow’s research is smart and on point, not least because it leads to a productive consideration of how the cathartic element of the private soundtrack becomes something that society struggles to assimilate. She takes to time to weave in personal testimonies and reminiscences that are effective and somehow touching: “the Walkman,” she admits, “was a source of elation and comfort” (85). A friend recalls how “[my] inner world was enriched by the freedom to explore music on my own” (84).  Pavel describes how the first use of his prototype, in the snows of St Moritz, evoked “a state of ecstasy,” in which life temporarily assumed a cinematic quality. “Suddenly,” he remembers, curiously switching to the present tense, “I’m inside a film” (27).

Darryl with a new Walkman, December 25, 1982, Image by Flickr User Kent Kanouse

Others speak of how musical accompaniment aids a more immersive interaction with the world around them, and it is here that perhaps the real strength of Tuhus-Dubrow’s work emerges: the generosity of an approach that permits mutual recognition; the summoning of an experiential quality that is elusive in its definition but vivid and immediate in its resonance. It is a mode of writing – and indeed a mode of listening – that is resolutely contemporary, formed in a firestorm of technological innovation that was both oppressive and liberatory, attuning us to new ways of being at the same time as it degrades and erodes old certainties.

It bears resemblance to what Tuhus-Dubrow recognises as “the logic of our own bodies, with organs and limbs whose motions are connected to their functions, and which are susceptible to injury and gradual breakdown” (102).  Earlier she writes, “as one song neared its end, I would begin to hear the opening chords of the next in my head.”

What is it, this sense of auditory anticipation?

It is the forming of new waves. We have blood in our ears.

Featured Image: “Walkman through the cassette” by Flicker User Narisa (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

Lewis Jones  just completed an MA in Literature & Theory at the University of Sussex, UK, with a particular interest in the affective quality of certain technological modes of representation and their repercussions within social consciousness. He is currently researching and writing on the impact of cinema on urban space.

tape reelREWIND! . . .If you liked this post, you may also dig:

SO! Reads: Hiromu Nagahara’s Tokyo Boogie-Woogie: Japan’s Pop Era and Its Discontents–Shawn Higgins

SO! Reads: Janet Borgerson and Jonathan Schroeder’s Designed For Hi Fi Living–Gina Arnold

SO! Reads: Susan Schmidt Horning’s Chasing Sound: Technology, Culture and the Art of Studio Recording from Edison to the LP— Enongo Lumumba-Kasongo

SO! Reads: Steph Ceraso’s Sounding Composition: Multimodal Pedagogies for Embodied Listening–Airek Beauchamp

SO! Reads: Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow’s Personal Stereo

In Personal Stereo, Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow’s eminently readable history of the Walkman and its kind, it is telling to learn that Sony founders Masaru Ibuka and Akio Morita were prone to conversing in ‘something akin to a private shared language’ or idioglossia. “They would sit there,” recounts Morita’s eldest son, “and we would listen but we had no idea what they were saying” (21).  In later life, following strokes, both lost the ability to speak; Ibuka’s son characterises their subsequent relationship as “communicating without words’.” Even the name Sony itself, notes Tuhus-Dubrow, with its origins in the Latin sonus and the English slang “sonny,” was ultimately “a word in no language’” (13).  It is as though aural perception, delivered on an intimate scale, is somehow revelatory in a way that transcends the typical organising principles of language. The incorporation of the sonic into everyday life forever approaches a kind of affective intensity.

Personal Stereo tunes into this frequency and – by virtue of its array of research and skilful marshalling of social and cultural history – offers a compelling map of its coordinates. If, as part of Bloomsbury’s Object Lessons series, one of its central tasks is to apprehend the affective resonance of the inanimate, it is testament to Tuhus-Dubrow’s work that she is able to manage the breadth of her material into an adroit and concise narrative while at the same time allowing space for her writing to approach these contained moments of intensity. “When I think of [the Walkman] now, I think of joy,” she writes in the introduction (1). While acknowledging that undue celebration of the past can stymie the present, she offers a quietly persuasive case for an examination of nostalgia amid the anxiety of contemporary life, which almost serves as a rallying cry for a generation pinioned between the two: ‘The past, whatever its shortcomings, has the virtue of having already happened. And we survived it.’

The story of the Walkman begins in the bombed-out ruins of 1940s Tokyo, as Ibuka and Morita establish the foundations of the company that would become a consumer electronics giant as part of Japan’s ill-fated post-war boom. It is striking how much of the Walkman’s development was shaped by the ravages of warfare: Tuhus-Dubrow notes how its antecedent, the tape recorder, was first used in the German military, and early headphones were issued to fighter pilots. It is possible to read the subsequent commercial adoption of personal listening devices as an attempted refashioning of the domestic interior, transgressed so violently in acts of conflict. One of Ibuka’s founding principles for Sony was to “apply highly advanced technologies…developed in various sectors during the war to common households” (12).  Tuhus-Dubrow also recounts the case of Andreas Pavel, a native of post-war Berlin, who emigrated with his family to São Paulo and developed what we might term a “counter-prototype” to the Walkman, partly inspired by the internal acoustics of his mother’s home – “a mecca of sound” – in Cidade Jardim. Object lessons are formed through disintegration and salvaged materials. Morita compares his formative partnership with the older Ibuka to a newly-established familial unit: “It was almost as though an adoption were taking place” (13).

Akio Morita (left) and Masaru Ibuka (right), 1961. Courtesy of Sony

This elides neatly with Tuhus-Dubrow’s central chapter, which is also the strongest. Here, she discusses the reception of private listening within the public domain, and how existing societal norms apprehended this new sonic phenomenon. It is intriguing, and at times hilarious, how much of the reaction operates as moral critique: from a 1923 article comparing the very act of solo listening to alcohol abuse or a drug habit, to rather more recent takes that foreshadow the current intergenerational culture wars. “The personal stereo,” harrumphs A.N. Wilson, ‘became the archetypal accessory of the me-generation” (68).

Tuhus-Dubrow’s research is smart and on point, not least because it leads to a productive consideration of how the cathartic element of the private soundtrack becomes something that society struggles to assimilate. She takes to time to weave in personal testimonies and reminiscences that are effective and somehow touching: “the Walkman,” she admits, “was a source of elation and comfort” (85). A friend recalls how “[my] inner world was enriched by the freedom to explore music on my own” (84).  Pavel describes how the first use of his prototype, in the snows of St Moritz, evoked “a state of ecstasy,” in which life temporarily assumed a cinematic quality. “Suddenly,” he remembers, curiously switching to the present tense, “I’m inside a film” (27).

Darryl with a new Walkman, December 25, 1982, Image by Flickr User Kent Kanouse

Others speak of how musical accompaniment aids a more immersive interaction with the world around them, and it is here that perhaps the real strength of Tuhus-Dubrow’s work emerges: the generosity of an approach that permits mutual recognition; the summoning of an experiential quality that is elusive in its definition but vivid and immediate in its resonance. It is a mode of writing – and indeed a mode of listening – that is resolutely contemporary, formed in a firestorm of technological innovation that was both oppressive and liberatory, attuning us to new ways of being at the same time as it degrades and erodes old certainties.

It bears resemblance to what Tuhus-Dubrow recognises as “the logic of our own bodies, with organs and limbs whose motions are connected to their functions, and which are susceptible to injury and gradual breakdown” (102).  Earlier she writes, “as one song neared its end, I would begin to hear the opening chords of the next in my head.”

What is it, this sense of auditory anticipation?

It is the forming of new waves. We have blood in our ears.

Featured Image: “Walkman through the cassette” by Flicker User Narisa (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

Lewis Jones  just completed an MA in Literature & Theory at the University of Sussex, UK, with a particular interest in the affective quality of certain technological modes of representation and their repercussions within social consciousness. He is currently researching and writing on the impact of cinema on urban space.

tape reelREWIND! . . .If you liked this post, you may also dig:

SO! Reads: Hiromu Nagahara’s Tokyo Boogie-Woogie: Japan’s Pop Era and Its Discontents–Shawn Higgins

SO! Reads: Janet Borgerson and Jonathan Schroeder’s Designed For Hi Fi Living–Gina Arnold

SO! Reads: Susan Schmidt Horning’s Chasing Sound: Technology, Culture and the Art of Studio Recording from Edison to the LP— Enongo Lumumba-Kasongo

SO! Reads: Steph Ceraso’s Sounding Composition: Multimodal Pedagogies for Embodied Listening–Airek Beauchamp

NECS – Statement on Open Science and Scholarship

At the NECS (European Network for Cinema and Media Studies) conference in Gdańsk, the publication committee organizes a workshop on open access/open scholarship on Friday, June 14th, 2019, 13:45-15:30.

After a short introduction to the topic by Jeroen Sondervan and some reflective notes by Catherine Grant, we will collectively work on a NECS statement on Open Scholarship during the rest of the session by using a Google Doc for collective writing. The document (click here) is now open for commenting prior to the workshop.

Our aims for are:
1) To share with participants NECS´s draft statement on Open Science and Scholarship and invite views on a number of pre-selected points (this document will be opened for commenting prior to the conference);

2) To engage in a conversation about the nature and implications of Open Science and Scholarship for researchers, educators, practitioners and archivists in the area of Media Studies.

Spread the word, come join the conversation, participate (in person or virtually), and keep an eye out for more when the conference approaches.

Évaluation des interventions de santé mondiale. Méthodes avancées.

Sous la direction de Valéry Ridde et Christian Dagenais

Acheter un livre, c’est nous soutenir et permettre à ceux et celles qui ne peuvent l’acheter de le lire en libre accès.

Une couverture universelle des soins de santé en 2030 pour tous les êtres humains, du Nord au Sud? Réaliser cet objectif de développement durable aussi ambitieux que nécessaire exigera une exceptionnelle volonté politique, mais aussi de solides données probantes sur les moyens d’y arriver, notamment sur les interventions de santé mondiale les plus efficaces. Savoir les évaluer est donc un enjeu majeur. On ne peut plus se contenter de mesurer leur efficacité : il nous faut comprendre pourquoi elles l’ont été (ou pas), comment et dans quelles conditions. Cet ouvrage collectif réunissant 27 auteurs et 12 autrices de différents pays et de disciplines variées a pour but de présenter de manière claire et accessible, en français, un florilège d’approches et de méthodes avancées en évaluation d’interventions : quantitatives, qualitatives, mixtes, permettant d’étudier l’évaluabilité, la pérennité, les processus, la fidélité, l’efficience, l’équité et l’efficacité d’interventions complexes. Chaque méthode est présentée dans un chapitre à travers un cas réel pour faciliter la transmission de ces savoirs précieux.

Une co-édition des Éditions science et bien commun et des Éditions IRD.

ISBN ePub : 978-2-924661-60-4
ISBN pour l’impression au Canada : 978-2-924661-58-1
ISBN pour l’impression en France : 978-2-7099-2766-6
483 pages
Date de publication : juillet 2019

Utilisez le bouton Paypal au bas de la page pour commander le livre imprimé au Canada ou en Europe ou l’obtenir en format ePub (prêtable) ou télécharger le bon de commande  Le livre sera bientôt disponible dans nos librairies dépositaires : la Librairie du Quartier à Québec, Zone libre à Montréal, à venir pour Paris, Genève et l’Afrique.

Table des matières

Partie I. La phase pré-évaluative et la pérennité

L’étude d’évaluabilité
Une intervention de prévention de l’usage de drogues à l’école au Québec
Biessé Diakaridja Soura, Jean-Sébastien Fallu, Robert Bastien et Frédéric N. Brière

L’évaluation de la pérennité
Une intervention de financement basé sur les résultats au Mali
Mathieu Seppey et Valéry Ridde

Partie II. Les approches qualitatives et participatives

L’évaluation qualitative, informatisée, participative et inter-organisationnelle (EQUIPO)
Exemple d’un programme en faveur des femmes victimes de violences en Bolivie
Mathieu Bujold et Jean-Alexandre Fortin

La méthode photovoix
Une intervention auprès de populations marginalisées sur l’accès à l’eau potable, l’hygiène et l’assainissement au Mexique
Lynda Rey, Wilfried Affodégon, Isabelle Viens, Hind Fathallah et Maria José Arauz

L’analyse d’une recherche-action
Combinaison d’approches dans le domaine de la santé au Burkina Faso
Aka Bony Roger Sylvestre, Valéry Ridde et Ludovic Queuille

Partie III. Les méthodes mixtes

Les revues systématiques mixtes
Un exemple à propos du financement basé sur les résultats
Quan Nha Hong, Anne-Marie Turcotte-Tremblay et Pierre Pluye

L’intégration en méthodes mixtes
Cadre conceptuel pour l’intégration des phases, résultats et données qualitatifs et quantitatifs
Pierre Pluye

La pratique de l’intégration en méthodes mixtes
Les multiples combinaisons des stratégies d’intégration
Pierre Pluye, Enrique García Bengoechea, David Li Tang, Vera Granikov

Partie IV. L’évaluation de l’efficacité et de l’efficience

Les méthodes quasi-expérimentales
L’effet de l’âge légal minimum sur la consommation d’alcool chez les jeunes aux États-Unis
Tarik Benmarhnia et Daniel Fuller

Les essais randomisés en grappe
Un exemple en santé maternelle et infantile
Alexandre Dumont

La mesure de l’équité
Un exemple d’intervention de gratuité des soins obstétricaux
Tarik Benmarhnia et Britt McKinnon

L’analyse coût-efficacité
Une intervention de décentralisation des soins VIH/SIDA à Shiselweni, Swaziland
Guillaume Jouquet

L’analyse spatiale
Un cas d’intervention communautaire de lutte contre le moustique Aedes aegypti au Burkina Faso
Emmanuel Bonnet, France Samiratou Ouédraogo et Diane Saré

Partie V. L’évaluation des processus et de la fidélité d’implantation

L’analyse des processus de mise en œuvre
Une intervention complexe au Burkina Faso : le financement basé sur les résultats
Valéry Ridde et Anne-Marie Turcotte-Tremblay

L’évaluation de la fidélité d’implantation
Un projet de distribution d’omble chevalier aux femmes enceintes du Nunavik
Lara Gautier, Catherine M. Pirkle, Christopher Furgal et Michel Lucas

L’évaluation de la fidélité et de l’adaptation
Un exemple de mise en œuvre des interventions en santé mondiale
Dennis Pérez, Marta Castro et Pierre Lefèvre

L’évaluation réaliste
L’exemple de l’adoption d’une politique publique de santé au Bénin
Jean-Paul Dossou et Bruno Marchal

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Evaluation sante mondiale



 

The Enclosure of Scholarly Infrastructures, Open Access Books & the Necessity of Community

Figure 1. Tianjin Binhai Library, Tianjin, China In June 2018, punctum and 4 other open-access book publishers in Europe (Mattering Press, meson press, Open Book Publishers, and Open Humanities Press) formed the ScholarLed collective: The aim of the collective is to explore the potential of working together. This includes developing systems and practices that allow presses[...]