Risky behaviours of beachgoing in Australia
Todd Walton
A thesis in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy
School of Biological, Earth and Environmental Sciences
Faculty of Science
July, 2014
THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES Thesis/Dissertation Sheet Surname or Family name: Walton First name: Todd Other name/s: Reginald Abbreviation for degree as given in the University calendar: PhD School: Biological, Earth and Environmental Sciences Faculty: Science Title: Risky behaviours of beach-going in Australia Abstract Beaches in Australia are signified with meaning. ‘The beach’ is a cultural centrepiece that contributes to the expectation of pleasure seeking in various forms, be it whilst being at the beach or reminiscing about being there. However, many of these pleasures are invariably risky.
This thesis explored the cultural underpinnings of beach going in Australia, to reveal the existence of risk- taking norms in Australian beach use. Attention has been paid to the sociality of the embodied subject in the beach space, and how various cultural forces that promote risky beach behaviours have emerged in Australia. I present a psychosocial, ethnographic study that captures the patterns of behaviour and perceptions that reproduce norms of risk-taking that are specific to beach going. A synthesis of psychoanalytic geographies and psychodynamics provided a practical way of analysing such risky behaviours. These analytic methods were brought in touch with the more commonplace research methods of surveying and interviewing in human geography. This filled a methodological gap in the analysis of risk- taking behaviour as a phenomenon, and the associated psychic development of individuals within the specific context of beach going.
This thesis has identified that people who use the Australian beach accept risky behaviours both knowingly and subconsciously. Acceptance of risk-taking as normal was observed among Australian born beachgoers who tended to possess an encultured perception of risky behaviour as specific to beach use. This perception is borne out of years of hazard encounters and risk-taking experience in an Australian beach setting. Unwitting engagements with risk-taking was more commonly observed in (overseas) tourist behaviour. Psychological affects associated with landscape and a relaxation of barriers normally preventing psychic satisfaction combine in the beachscape. Other socio-cultural and intrapersonal influences, such as interactive risk and specific personality traits, serve to amplify the acceptance, and increase the performance, of risky beach behaviours. Combined with the appeal of beach going, this makes risk-taking a common and hazardous practice at Australian beaches. In a space that contains a multitude of hazards, where social and cultural acceptance is attained through risk-taking, the beach going experience in Australia presents a hazardous undertaking, regardless of the beachgoer’s background.
Declaration relating to disposition of project thesis/dissertation I hereby grant to the University of New South Wales or its agents the right to archive and to make available my thesis or dissertation in whole or in part in the University libraries in all forms of media, now or here after known, subject to the provisions of the Copyright Act 1968. I retain all property rights, such as patent rights. I also retain the right to use in future works (such as articles or books) all or part of this thesis or dissertation. I also authorise University Microfilms to use the 350 word abstract of my thesis in Dissertation Abstracts International (this is applicable to doctoral theses only).
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Abstract
Beaches in Australia are signified with meaning. ‘The beach’ is a cultural centrepiece that contributes to the expectation of pleasure seeking in various forms, be it whilst being at the beach or reminiscing about being there. However, many of these pleasures are invariably risky. This thesis evolved from the author’s observations that risky behaviours are frequently performed and somehow socially accepted in the beach space. Research for this thesis revealed that risk-taking in the Australian beach environment is re-produced by beachgoer adherence to culturally produced social norms, and in association with a number of intrapersonal and psychologically influenced behavioural reflexes. This thesis explored the cultural underpinnings of beach going in Australia, to reveal the existence of risk-taking norms in Australian beach use. This has implications for the whole range of beach users, including for those visiting from beyond Australian shores.
This thesis has investigated the influence of society, culture and the psyche on the risk-taking behaviour of beachgoers in Australia. Attention has been paid to the sociality of the embodied subject in the beach space, and how various cultural forces that promote risky beach behaviours have emerged in Australia. I present a psychosocial, ethnographic study of beachgoers in Australia, which was completed to capture the patterns of behaviour and perceptions of beach going that re-produce the identified norms of risk- taking at the beach. A synthesis of psychoanalytic geography and psychodynamics provided a practical way of analysing such risky behaviours. These analytic methods were brought in touch with the more commonplace research methods of surveying and interviewing in human geography to fill the methodological gaps in geography that relate to risk-taking behaviour and the psyche in the specific context of the beach in Australia. The integration of multiple methods in the study of beachgoer risk- taking produced a more complete understanding of risky behaviour in the specific landscape of the Australian beach by bridging the gaps between space, body and mind.
This thesis has identified that people who use the Australian beach accept risky behaviours both knowingly and subconsciously. Acceptance of risk-taking as a normal part of beach going is of particular significance with Australian born beachgoers who tend to possess an encultured perception of risky behaviour as specific to beach use. This perception is borne out of years of hazard encounters and risk- taking experience in an Australian beach setting. Unwitting engagements with risk-taking was more commonly observed in (overseas) tourist behaviour. Psychological effects associated with landscape preference and a relaxation of barriers normally preventing psychic satisfaction combine to make the beach an appealing place. Other socio-cultural and intra-personal influences, such as interactive risk and specific personality traits, serve to amplify the acceptance, and increase the performance, of risky behaviours at the beach. In combination with the appeal of beach going, this makes risk-taking a common and hazardous practice on Australian beaches.
An implication of this research is support for the continued protection of beachgoers from the hazards of the Australian beach, including ongoing education and safety campaigns. From the evidence reported in this thesis however, the complete elimination of risky behaviours on Australian beaches should not be the aim of these campaigns, because risk-taking is part of the socio-cultural fabric of beach going in Australia, and attempts at elimination will be ultimately futile. In a space that contains a multitude of hazards, where social and cultural acceptance is attained through risk-taking, the beach going experience in Australia presents a hazardous undertaking, no matter the beachgoer’s background.
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ORIGINALITY STATEMENT ‘I hereby declare that this submission is my own work and to the best of my knowledge it contains no materials previously published or written by another person, or substantial proportions of material which have been accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma at UNSW or any other educational institution, except where due acknowledgement is made in the thesis. Any contribution made to the research by others, with whom I have worked at UNSW or elsewhere, is explicitly acknowledged in the thesis. I also declare that the intellectual content of this thesis is the product of my own work, except to the extent that assistance from others in the project's design and conception or in style, presentation and linguistic expression is acknowledged.’
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COPYRIGHT STATEMENT ‘I hereby grant the University of New South Wales or its agents the right to archive and to make available my thesis or dissertation in whole or part in the University libraries in all forms of media, now or here after known, subject to the provisions of the Copyright Act 1968. I retain all proprietary rights, such as patent rights. I also retain the right to use in future works (such as articles or books) all or part of this thesis or dissertation. I also authorise University Microfilms to use the 350 word abstract of my thesis in Dissertation Abstract International (this is applicable to doctoral theses only). I have either used no substantial portions of copyright material in my thesis or I have obtained permission to use copyright material; where permission has not been granted I have applied/will apply for a partial restriction of the digital copy of my thesis or dissertation.'
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Table of Contents Page
Title page ...... i
Thesis/dissertation sheet ...... ii
Abstract ...... iii
Originality statement ...... iv
Copyright statement ...... iv
Authenticity statement ...... iv
Table of Contents ...... v
Acknowledgements...... vi
List of Figures ...... vii
List of Tables ...... viii
Chapters ...... ix
References ...... 348
Appendices ...... 372
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Acknowledgements
The first thanks go to my main supervisor Wendy Shaw, a person I have enormous respect for as well as admiration. Wendy has been tireless throughout my candidature in providing me feedback, advice and work. Without her involvement in this process I would have been much worse off. I was lucky to have a primary supervisor of Wendy’s calibre. Thank you also to James
Goff for making himself available to help me in lightning fast fashion, and on occasions when many would have ignored me. I greatly appreciated your involvement in my thesis, and your cheery disposition. Thank you to Rob Brander for his vast beach and surf knowledge and expertise, as well as his endearing excitement about all things rip-related. Thanks also go to
Dale Dominey-Howes for his early involvement in my thesis.
Thank you to my family for being there for me and for making everything easier. Thanks to my parents Nerida and Peter for being better parents than anyone could hope for – dad for his unwavering support, and mum for always knowing what is best for me. Thanks to Jarrod for letting me tag along at gigs, now people just want to hear him! Thank you to nana for everything you do for all of us and for letting me know when I need a haircut. I love you all.
Thanks to Karina for sharing her life with me and providing a loving house to come home to every day. I hope to pay you back for all your patience and love. You make me a better person.
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List of Figures Page number
1.1 Image of a popular city beachscape ...... 3 1.2 Image of Gym Beach in South Australia ...... 3 1.3 Bondi beach in Sydney’s eastern suburbs ...... 5 1.4 Tourism Australia advert ...... 8 1.5 Conceptual framework: factors contributing to risk in Australian beach use ...... 13 2.1 Idealised cross-section of a wave-dominated beach system ...... 24 2.2 The three sub-systems of wave transformation on a wave-dominated beach ...... 25 2.3 A ‘classic’ rip system ...... 26 2.4 ‘Classic’ rip with purple dye ...... 27 2.5 Circular rip with purple dye ...... 27 2.6 ‘Brighton Beach’ by Henry Burn compared to a more recent image of the same beachscape ..... 33 2.7 ‘A holiday at Mentone’ by Charles Conder ...... 34 2.8 Red and yellow flags on Kurrawa beach, Gold Coast ...... 37 2.9 Newspaper clippings of the 2005 Cronulla Beach riots ...... 39 2.10 “Sunbaker” by Max Dupain ...... 43 3.1 The emergent methods process ...... 67 3.2 Human geography’s initial engagements with psychoanalysis ...... 75 3.3 Fieldwork station at Queenscliff Beach ...... 108 3.4 Self-recruit station at Terry Hills Caravan Park ...... 110 4.1 Primary reasons for beachgoing ...... 125 4.2 Why questionnaire participants go to the beach grouped according to age and gender ...... 127 4.3 Preferences for beach use based on beachgoer residence and country of birth ...... 132 4.4 How often questionnaire participants go to the beach compared between residency groups ..... 133 4.5 The nature-culture transitional spaces of the urban beachscape ...... 137 4.6 Beachgoers gathered at Dee Why headland in Sydney to view storm swells ...... 155 4.7 Visual examples of localism and territoriality in the beachscape ...... 177 5.1 Poster for the film ‘Jaws’, released in 1975 ...... 203 5.2 What questionnaire participants were afraid of in the beachscape ...... 204 5.3 Most at risk according to beachgoers grouped by residence ...... 206 5.4 Beachgoer fears, grouped by residency ...... 208 5.5 Percentage of responses to the question ‘Who is most at risk’ ...... 212 6.1 Responses to the questions: ‘Do you feel safe at the beach’ and ‘Do you feel safe in the surf’ .... 262 6.2 Sensation seeking scores of participants grouped by how safe they feel in the surf ...... 263 6.3 How safe participants feel in the surf, grouped by residency ...... 265 6.4 Self-reported ocean swimming ability, grouped by residency ...... 269 7.1 A volunteer risk-taker chain surfing ...... 303 7.2 A comparison between the ‘normal’ dress attire of beachgoers and the attire of city goers ...... 317 7.3 Image of an Australian beachscape and a savanna ...... 319 8.1 Beachscape dangers rating, grouped by residency ...... 332
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List of Tables Page number
3.1 The quantitative-qualitative divide ...... 64 3.2 The three steps of the decision-making process and how they are informed in this research ..... 83 3.3 The range of ways in which oral methods are utilised in geography ...... 98 3.4 Stratified sampling frame of beach locations including percent of total participants by site ...... 107 3.5 Sampling frame of sites targeted for recruitment of tourist beachgoers ...... 109 3.6 Number of completed interviews arranged by where the interview participants completed their questionnaire ...... 111 4.1 List of reasons that interview participants believed best represent why people go to the beach in Australia ...... 129 5.1 Participant danger rating of their own fears ...... 190 5.2 Percent of participants that check for the hazard they fear before entering the beachscape ...... 191 5.3 Aggregate hazard rating by participants who have been rescued from the surf ...... 191 5.4 Percent of questionnaire participants who check for the corresponding hazard before going to the beach or entering the water ...... 198 5.5 Percent of responses for each danger rating within each hazard category ...... 199 5.6 Overall aggregate scores and ratings for hazards by questionnaire participants ...... 200 5.7 Aggregate ratings of hazards compared across beachgoer groups ...... 207 5.8 Overall aggregate hazard rating and ranking displayed alongside ‘actual’ hazard ranking ...... 228 5.9 Danger rating of the Australian beachscape according to each beachgoer group ...... 231 6.1 How safe participants who had been rescued felt in the surf compared to participants who had never been rescued ...... 265 6.2 Descriptive statistics of JPI-R risk-taking scores for participants scared of something in the beachscape versus participants scared of nothing ...... 270
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Chapters Page number
1 INTRODUCTION ...... 1 1.1 Personal positioning and motivation ...... 2 1.2 Defining the Australian beach ...... 2 1.3 Beachgoing in Australia ...... 4 1.4 The behaviour of beachgoers ...... 9 1.5 Research questions ...... 12 1.6 Conceptual framework ...... 13 1.7 Thesis structure ...... 15
2 CONTEXTUALISING A THESIS ON RISKY BEHAVIOUR IN THE AUSTRALIAN BEACHSCAPE ...... 18 2.1 Introduction ...... 18 2.2 Geomorphic context ...... 20 2.2.1 Physical geography and morphology of Australian beaches ...... 22 2.2.2 Hydro-morphodynamic processes of a typical Australian beach system ... 23 2.3 Socio-historical and cultural context ...... 30 2.4 Public health and safety context ...... 46 2.4.1 Health and safety concerns for Australian beach users ...... 47 2.4.2 The value and cost of protection ...... 51 2.5 Chapter conclusion ...... 56
3 METHODS ...... 58 3.1 Introduction ...... 58 3.2 Background to thesis methodology ...... 63 3.3 Behavioural geographies ...... 70 3.4 Psychoanalytic geographies ...... 74 3.5 Using behavioural geography, psychoanalysis and psychology to research risky behaviour in the Australian beach landscape ...... 80 3.6 Development of the survey questionnaire and in-depth interview ...... 85 3.6.1 Questionnaires ...... 86 3.6.1.1 Development of a pilot study of beachgoers ...... 87 3.6.1.2 Designing the questionnaire ...... 91 3.6.2 In-depth interviewing ...... 97 3.6.2.1 Designing a semi-structured in-depth interview ...... 99 3.7 The survey process ...... 104 3.7.1 Administering the questionnaire ...... 106 3.7.2 Conducting the in-depth interviews ...... 111 3.7.3 Data processing and analysis ...... 113 3.7.3.1 Questionnaire data ...... 114 3.7.3.2 Interview analysis ...... 116 3.8 Summary and notes ...... 119 3.9 Chapter conclusion ...... 120
4 BEACHGOING PATTERNS AND PERCEPTIONS IN AUSTRALIA ...... 122 4.1 Introduction ...... 122 4.2 Quantifying beach use ...... 124 4.2.1 Results from the survey questionnaire and interview ...... 124 4.2.2 Country of birth and residence, and beach use ...... 131 4.3 Theorising the beach ...... 135 4.4 Sociability of the inclusive and exclusive beach ...... 138 4.5 The appealing beach ...... 144 4.5.1 Play and enjoyment at the beach ...... 146 4.5.2 Feelings of health and wellbeing at the beach ...... 149 4.5.3 The sublime beachscape ...... 153 ix
4.6 Perceptions of the Australian beachscape ...... 157 4.6.1 The appeal of beachgoing in Australia through a socio-cultural lens ...... 157 4.6.2 Freedom through isolation ...... 165 4.6.3 Memories of the beach and their influence on behaviour...... 167 4.6.4 Owning and sharing the beach ...... 171 4.6.5 The Australian beach space: a spiritual landscape (for some) ...... 179 4.7 Chapter conclusion ...... 184
5 HAZARDS IN THE AUSTRALIAN BEACHSCAPE ...... 186 5.1 Introduction ...... 186 5.2 Behavioural responses to hazard presence in the beachscape ...... 188 5.2.1 Hazard encounters and the influence of fear ...... 189 5.3 Beachscape-based hazards ...... 196 5.3.1 Sharks ...... 196 5.3.2 Rip currents ...... 210 5.3.3 Sunlight ...... 221 5.4 Beachgoer knowledge of Australian beachscape-based hazards ...... 226 5.5 Hazards, culture and the psyche ...... 231 5.6 Chapter conclusion ...... 239
6 RISK-TAKING AND RISK PERCEPTION AT THE BEACH ...... 241 6.1 Introduction ...... 241 6.2 Revisiting methods: how personality psychology informs spatial behaviour ...... 243 6.2.1 Personality testing ...... 246 6.2.1.1 Personality trait measures ...... 248 6.2.1.2 Risk-taking and sensation-seeking scales ...... 252 6.3 Beachgoer personality testing ...... 257 6.3.1 The psychometric risk-taking tendencies of research participants ...... 257 6.4 Perceptions of risk in the Australian beachscape ...... 261 6.4.1 Safe at the beach, safe in the surf ...... 261 6.4.2 Overseas residents’ perceptions of risk in the Australian beachscape ...... 267 6.4.3 (False) perceptions of safety ...... 269 6.5 Chapter conclusion ...... 278
7 THE AUSTRALIAN BEACHSCAPE – A CULTURE OF RISK ...... 281 7.1 Introduction ...... 281 7.2 The enculturation of risk-taking into beach use in Australia ...... 285 7.2.1 Australian born beachgoer’s contributions to risk-taking ...... 287 7.2.2 Tourists and risk ...... 293 7.2.3 Voluntary risk-taking in Australian beach use ...... 299 7.3 Land-/beach-/risk-scape ...... 305 7.3.1 The attenuation of risk in the Australian beach space ...... 305 7.3.2 Psychosocial and cultural attractions to risk in the Australian beachscape 311 7.3.2.1 Linking embodied beach bodies to landscape and risk-taking ..... 317 7.4 Chapter conclusion ...... 326
8 CONCLUSIONS ...... 328 8.1 Summary of thesis results ...... 330 8.2 Rethinking behaviour in geography ...... 334 8.3 Implications of research on risk-taking behaviours for beach safety management ...... 337 8.4 Persistent challenges, limitations and future research ...... 341 8.5 Observations of a beachscape risk-taker ...... 344
REFERENCES ...... 348
APENDICES ...... 372
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1 Introduction
This thesis investigates beachgoing in New South Wales, Australia with particular attention given to risk-taking associated with this popular leisure activity. It targets the risk-taking behaviour and decision-making processes of Australian beach users1, which to date have received little research attention. The broad aim of this thesis is to therefore contribute knowledge to understandings of risk-taking behaviours of Australian beach users, and ultimately provide a platform from which management decisions about beach safety can be made. This involves exploring aspects of beachgoing, as well as some of the physical attributes of Australian beaches, which re-produce and lure engagements with this often-hazardous, risk- filled environment. The physical landscape of the beach represents the space within which the risky behaviours under investigation occur. In sum, this thesis asks why people engage with hazards and take risks at the beach.
This chapter provides a framework from which the thesis research questions were established.
First, I explain how beach space in Australia is defined and referenced in this thesis. I then provide an outline of Australian beach usage and identify the relevant stakeholders of this investigation. Next, I explain the relevance of risk in this thesis, specifically within a research context of Australian culture and society. The chapter concludes with an explanation of the research questions, the conceptual framework of which the research was undertaken and the structure of the thesis.
1 An Australian beach user refers to any user of the Australian beach, including but not limited to Australian residents and overseas tourists. 1
1.1 Personal positioning and motivation
Having lived within two kilometres of the beach my entire life I am personally vested in the concern of this thesis. As a beach user, swimmer and surfer, I have developed an enduring love and appreciation for Australia’s coastal environment, which is reflected in my early research career to date, including this thesis. I have been a member of a Surf Life Saving club since I was five years old, and am a competing surfboat rower at the Queenscliff Surf Lifesaving club where I hold long service standing2. My motivation to undertake this particular research was derived from my many hours of beachgoing. This included observing and participating in behaviours that would appear excessively risky were they not being performed at the beach.
My experience and connection with the Australian beach in combination with my training as a human geographer has afforded me the opportunity to address an area of research I know and care about in a manner that, I believe, best contributes to a more informed understanding of why, like so many others, I am a particular kind of beach risk-taker.
1.2 Defining the Australian beach
The beach is defined in this thesis as the encompassing land and seascape of the immediate foreshore area. It is a space where land-space and ocean-space are bound, physically and theoretically (Fiske, 1989; Steinberg, 1999; Anderson and Peters, 2014). This area is referred to throughout as the beach landscape, the beachscape, the beach space, the beach environment or simply, as ‘the beach’. This is because the definition of the beach in Australia (and in this thesis) is not based on a set of concrete characteristics. It is a concept with spatial variability, and often, place specificity. For example, Figure 1.1 is an image of a popular city beach. The beachscape area in this image extends from the road and out past the breaking waves to deep
2 Long service membership of a surf lifesaving club in New South Wales denotes provision of volunteer service exceeding ten straight years of at least 25 volunteer hours a year. 2 water. A quite different beachscape can be seen in Figure 1.2, where it extends from a few metres offshore to the top of the grassy sand dunes.
Figure 1.1 Image of a popular city beachscape (Manly beach in Sydney, with the ocean on the far right and the city on the far left). (Source: www.mattlauder.com.au, accessed 10/1/14)
Figure 1.2 Image of Gym beach in South Australia (a ‘natural’ looking beach landscape). (Source: www.australiantraveller.com, accessed 10/1/14)
Beaches in Australia are often characterised by their contrasting elements (Figures 1.1 and 1.2)
(Fiske, 1989). Examples can be found where beaches are viewed as part of the culture of a place, or part of nature. Whilst being open to all, beaches are also places where social
3 differences are demarcated (explored in detail in Chapters 4 and 7). In addition, beaches can have the reputation of being safe or unsafe for swimming. Beaches are a littoral space consisting of land and sea, and the zone where they meet. The human implications of this physical transition are explored in this thesis in the context of their influence on risky behaviour. All the variations and conflicts mentioned in this section will be approached later in this thesis but, for this introduction, they are used to identify the Australian beach as a landscape of subjectivity and interpretation, as well as being a physical space.
1.3 Beachgoing in Australia
Beach use is one of the most popular outdoor recreational activities in Australia, and elsewhere (Freitas, 2003), for many different reasons. The coastal regions of Australia have the highest population density in the country with most of Australia’s population concentrated in two widely separated coastal regions – the southeast and east, and the southwest (ABS, 2014).
The largest growth outside capital cities (7 out of 8 of which are situated along Australia’s coastline) as of 2013 occurred in Australia’s coastal regions (ABS, 2014). In 2012, Coastal LGAs
(Local Government Authorities) experienced a rate of growth sixty percent higher than the nation-wide average. Consequently, Australia’s high-density coastal population inundates its
11 761 beaches with an estimated fifty-five to eighty million visits each year (Short, 2006;
Anning, 2012). An extension to the high-density coastal population is the frequency of beach use in Australia (as illustrated in Figure 1.3). An affinity with beachgoing in Australia is observable nationwide through the high visitation numbers that are experienced at popular city beaches. “Whereas many Europeans and Americans visit their beaches for no more than summer holidays, at every possible opportunity Australians take advantage of the close physical proximity” (Jaggard, 1997, p183).
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Figure 1.3 Bondi beach in Sydney’s eastern suburbs (Bondi can receive up to 40 000 visits in a single day, Anning, 2012). (Source: http://www.abc.net.au/news/2012-05-14/thousands-flock-to-bondi- beach/4009110, accessed 10/11/12).
Maguire et al. (2011) explain that beaches are the most popular recreational destinations in
Australia with over ninety percent of their survey respondents nominating the beach as one of their top three most valued natural recreational environments. Maguire et al. (2011) found that respondents valued ‘natural’ beaches that are uncrowded and clean, but with facilities such as toilets, food outlets and easy access. In a study on holiday preferences for Australians,
Oppewal et al. (2010) found that Margaret River, a town on the southwest Australian coast with some very popular wave-dominated beaches is the most popular regional destination for domestic tourists. Oppewal et al. (2010, p24) also observed that when asked what type of tourism experience Australians most desired, the highest response was to experience ‘nature
(beaches, waterways, wilderness and wildlife)’, followed closely by ‘relaxation, health and indulgence’. The latter ‘outcomes’ of Australian beach use will be further explained in Chapter
4.
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For people who live in Australia, Maguire et al. (2011) noticed that a distinct dichotomy exists between rates and patterns of use of local versus non-local beaches, where local beaches are those local to the user. Local beaches are used frequently year round and usually outside of work hours. Non-local beaches were those more commonly visited as holiday destinations during the summer and these are attended around the middle of the day. Popular non-local beaches are often ‘natural’ beaches, such as Figure 1.2. White (2009) offers an interesting account of why the ‘natural’ beach holiday, in opposition to the essentially urbanised beach, stands pre-eminent in the history of Australian domestic tourism. White (2009) explains that the old-fashioned Australian beach holiday in its active resistance of consumerism’s fundamental assumptions (i.e. that people desire the acquisition of luxury goods and services) cannot be conceptualised these days by the tourism industry, stating:
“At the end of the twentieth century, it was possible to find Australians going on beach
holidays that look like those that were typical of the 1950s and 1960s. A proportion
were doing it ironically, celebrating its retro-chic nostalgia, or retrieving their own
childhood holidays as a gift to their children” (White, 2009, p14).
Furthermore, White (2009, p14) remarks that the attraction of the beach holiday to the
Australian family remains to,
“Block the ears and close the eyes to the cacophony of signification in the world of
signs, and just indulge in the pleasures of idleness. They want to get away from it all”.
Wilks and Pendegast (2010) claim that interest in the physical characteristics of beaches is another common drawcard for Australians. This is evident in the popularity of websites such as coastalwatch.com, which provides real-time monitoring of beaches around Australia using fixed cameras. Winner of the Hitwise National Performance Award for most popular water- sports website in Australia, coastalwatch.com received approximately 500 000 visits each
6 month in 2007 from people wanting to check on conditions at the beach (Wilks and Pendegast,
2010).
As well as being popular with Australians, the beach plays a significant part in Australia’s thirty- five billion dollar tourism industry3 – which accounts for 2.6% of the GDP and 4.5% of the nation’s employment (Zhang and Wang, 2012). Australia is viewed internationally as a desirable tourist destination at a time when many other countries are struggling with tourist health, safety and security issues (de Nardi and Wilks, 2007; Pike and Bianchi, 2013). The popularity of Australia’s beaches is embraced by the country’s tourism industry (Figure 1.4). In
2012, Australia received almost 5.6 million international tourists, with sixty-five percent visiting a beach, and twenty-nine percent indicating that Australia’s coastline was the key factor influencing their decision to visit (Wilks and Pendergast, 2010; Tourism NSW, 2012;
Amelung and Nicholls, 2014).
A travel search engine, traveleye.com, ranks Sydney and the Great Barrier Reef as the second and tenth ‘best travel destinations’ in the world respectively. The marketing group
FutureBrand has placed Australia fourth out of fifty-four countries as a leading beach destination under the criteria: ‘pristine beaches, from the remote to the mainstream’ (Wilks and Pendergast, 2010). In a study by Kim and Agrusa (2005), Korean newlyweds ranked an
Australian beach resort as the ideal place for their honeymoon citing good scenery, comfort, and good weather. Zhang and Wang (2012) comment that Australia’s favourable climate and weather and its beaches are especially important to overseas tourists, pointing out that weather was ranked the third most important destination characteristic behind landscape and relatively low travel cost.
3 Australian Bureau of Statistic’s Tourism Satellite Account, 2010-2011, for tourism’s contribution to gross domestic product. 7
Figure 1.4 Tourism Australia advert (9 out of the 11 print ads that were used internationally and domestically by Tourism Australia as of November 2012 featured a beachscape or the ocean, including this image of Wineglass Bay in Tasmania). (Source: www.tourism.australia.com, 12/11/12 accessed)
Whilst Australia is generally considered to be a safe travel destination by international tourists, with high standards in public health, clean drinking water, low level of infectious disease and a 8 well-equipped and coordinated medical system (Wilks et al., 2002), there are a relatively high number of water-safety related deaths (Leggat and Wilks, 2009). These preventable deaths affect both domestic Australian and overseas visiting beachgoers (Sherker et al., 2008). This thesis is concerned with these water/beach related incidents, enhancing their preventability through better understandings of beachgoing hazards and risks, and better understanding of beachgoer behaviour in the presence of these hazards and risks. The next section provides a brief explanation of the terminology used in this thesis with regard to hazard and risk, followed by how they are investigated in this thesis alongside beachgoing behaviour.
1.4 The behaviour of beachgoers
Smith and Petley (2009, p13) state that, “risk is the actual exposure of something of human value to a hazard and is often measured as the product of probability and loss”. A main concern of this thesis is the risks attributable to hazard exposure in the Australian beachscape.
Many of the water/beach related incidents that occur in Australia, including preventable drowning deaths, are the result of encounters with specific hazards in the Australian beachscape, or the result of a risk taken at the beach (Morgan et al., 2008, 2009a, 2009b). The
United Nations International Strategy for Disaster Reduction (UNISDR) (2009, p17) defines a hazard as a “phenomenon, substance, human activity or condition that may cause loss of life, injury or other health impacts, property damage, loss of livelihoods and services, social and economic disruption, or environmental damage”. There may be multiple hazards present in an
Australian beachscape – for example, rip currents, submerged objects, dumping waves, pollution, other beachgoers and their surf craft, marine life, and the sun. These are described and explored in further detail in Chapter 5.
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The danger of the Australian beachscape was recognised in a 2008 (p1) National Health and
Medical Research Council report provided to state and local governments to assist in the development of legislation “to protect the health of humans from threats posed by the recreational use of coastal, estuarine and fresh waters”. A list of characteristics about a location’s impact on public health included:
presence and nature of natural or artificial hazards;
severity of the hazard characteristics in relation to health outcomes;
ease of access to the area;
frequency and density of use;
level of development for recreational use; and
ability to prevent or ameliorate hazard exposures or outcomes.
For an individual, making decisions about possibly engaging with a hazard and taking a risk involve weighing the potential rewards of an act against its potential adverse consequences
(Adams, 1995) – as identified by the UNISDR (2009) description of risk: “The combination of the probability of an event and its negative consequences”. The term ‘risk’ has many meanings, as do risk-related topics and terminology (Adams, 1995; UNISDR, 2009). The UNISDR
(2009) recognises two distinct connotations for the meaning of risk. In popular usage, ‘risk’ is used to emphasise chance or possibility. In technical settings, the emphasis is usually on the consequences (potential losses) for a particular cause, place or period. This thesis recognises both meanings as well as the many possible perceptions of the meaning of ‘risk’ interpreted by the beachgoers who contributed to this research.
The purpose of the research for this thesis is more than simply about asking people what they perceive as risky, or why they take risks at the beach. Adams (1995, p4) comments that “rarely are risk decisions made with information that can be reduced to quantifiable probabilities; yet decisions, somehow, get made”. In other words, there is motivation and reason behind all risky 10 behaviours, whether they are known, unknown or partially known to the actor. For many beachgoers, the (risky) decisions they make at the beach might be assumed to be risk-free.
Addressing why people make the decisions they make at the beach, Anning (2012) remarks that greater integration of the field of psychology has the potential to improve understandings of motivations and behaviours of beachgoers. With this in mind, this thesis explores the psychodynamic influences that underlie decision-making and influence beachscape behaviours. This is further explained later in this thesis, but for now, these influences are addressed using a number of psyche-based conceptual inputs. The first – psychoanalytic geography – is an established branch of human geography with numerous examples of its methodological and theoretical implementation into similar/relevant research. I also utilise some of the theoretical and methodological tenets of broader psychology that are identified as relevant to the explanation of a risk-taking norm on Australian beaches, such as environmental psychology and interpretative phenomenological analysis. Some of these have previously been approached in human geography (for example Tuan, 1971; Walmsley and Lewis, 1993; Kithchin et al., 1997; Van Acker et al., 2010; Anderson, 2013a) (with varied success) whilst one particular methodological practice, specifically regarding the study of personality, is a unique addition to the human geographical study of spatial behaviour, and will be explained later in this thesis. The behavioural influences that these psyche-based approaches explore are investigated in tandem with the numerous cultural, social and personal factors that pervade the risk-taking decisions and associated behaviours of embodied subjects in an Australian beach context. The processes and influences explored by these methods are investigated via the research questions of this thesis.
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1.5 Research questions
The overall research questions for this thesis are:
(1) Encounters with the beachscape in Australia are considered to be well-embedded
within the national psyche, so to what extent are beachgoing patterns and perceptions
shared among beach users?
(2) Given that beachgoing is so embedded within Australian culture, how does this play
out for those who are less experienced? What are their experiences of this risky
encounter, and which hazards have the greatest impact on their beach use?
(3) To what extent do people take risks at the beach because they perceive their actions
as low risk or risk free, and to what extent does this demonstrate a false/accurate
perception of safety in the Australian beachscape?
(4) What are the workings of a socio-cultural predilection for risk-taking on Australian
beaches, which compel many individuals, from experienced to inexperienced, to make
decisions they would normally consider incongruous?
This thesis investigates the possibility that beachgoing in Australia is unavoidably entwined with risk-taking behaviour. From these broad research thematic questions, four key research questions were identified to drive the research:
1. What defines the appeal of the beach in Australia – a hazardous, risk-filled space?
2. How is beachgoing in Australia influenced by the hazards of the beachscape?
3. Are the risks involved in Australian beach use known or unknown to the beachgoer?
4. Why does risk-taking occur on the Australian beach?
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1.6 Conceptual framework
A conceptual framework of factors contributing to risk-taking was constructed to explore factors that shape and inform risky behaviour in the beachscape (Figure 1.5). The framework identifies and illustrates the complex multi-faceted system of forces and influences that contribute to behaviours in the Australian beachscape that involve risk. The decision to take a risk, which is separate – yet conflated within this framework – was also conceptualised and modelled as a list of forces and influences. The decision-making model is outlined and discussed in Chapter 3.
The risk framework was adapted from Moran4 (2006, building on Adams, 1995).
Figure 1.5 Conceptual framework: factors contributing to risk in Australian beach use.
4 Moran’s (2006) thesis on the risk of drowning amongst New Zealand youths has comparable lines of research to this thesis, namely identifying factors contributing to risk-taking among a beachgoing population. 13
Figure 1.5 illustrates that beachgoer behaviour is affected by a multitude of influential factors.
‘Risk’ at the top of the framework is the culmination of all facets below and represents what the thesis research seeks to affirm – that risk is an inherent aspect of beachscape behaviour in
Australia. Figure 1.5 also illustrates that ‘Risk’ can be attributable to a beachgoer’s behaviour at the beach, even if the beachgoer does not perceive risk in their action/activity. The factors that influence risky behaviour are grouped into four underlying levels. These consist of:
1. The beach use patterns of the individual including their type of beach use and the
frequency of use;
2. The intrapersonal factors that inform the individual’s beachgoing patterns and
perceptions. This includes how individual personality, as well as attitudes and beliefs
about beachgoing, influence behaviour at the beach;
3. The socio-cultural factors that influence beachscape risk-taking, including knowledge
(cultivated from education and previous experience) and various peer and familial
influences; and
4. The demographic variables of gender, age and residency that permeate and influence
the entire framework.
There are also innate cultural and psychosocial reflexes that influence the first and second levels of the conceptual framework (Figure 1.5). These reflexes are shaped by cultural characteristics of beachgoing that have built up over time as well as unconscious motivations that affect the beachgoer, and regardless of whether these characteristics exist for specific beachgoing demographics, they still have influence on behaviour. This is explored later in
Chapter 7.
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This framework is not necessarily the whole picture, and is open to further inputs/influences. It is simply a heuristic device that is built upon throughout this thesis. The following section provides a summary of this thesis including a brief account of the content of each chapter.
1.7 Thesis structure
This chapter has provided an overview of the themes that are explored and discussed throughout this thesis. It has also presented a list of questions that the research conducted for this thesis was designed to address.
Chapter 2 provides further detail on the thesis context by summarising the biophysical and socio-cultural settings in which the research was undertaken. This includes an introduction to the significance of the beachscape to an Australian national imaginary/psyche, followed by a brief description of the physical processes and phenomena that contribute to the unique features of the Australian beach environment. This is followed by an account of the public health and safety context arising out of an ongoing engagement between the beachgoing imaginary and the (potentially hazardous) natural processes of the beach environment.
Chapter 3 outlines methods utilised to answer the research questions posited in Section 1.5.
This includes the provision of a background of relevant research from previously completed studies that were drawn upon to inform this thesis, including a discussion of the specific relevance of psychoanalytic and behavioural geographies to the research. This chapter details the development of the methodological process including its design and its implementation at various selected field sites. The strengths and weaknesses of the tools utilised for answering the research questions are considered and an assessment of the success of the methodological process is presented.
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Chapters 4, 5, 6 and 7 respond directly to the research questions by providing data analysis relevant to each of the four key questions in Section 1.5. An interpretation of results is also provided and discussed within the context of each question.
Chapter 4 directly addresses the first research question by exploring aspects of the beach that attract people to its use. This chapter presents an account of the common characteristics of beaches and beachgoing that appeal to people, followed by a discussion on what makes the
Australian beachscape unique, and how these features influence beachgoing in this country.
Chapter 5 tests the second research question. This includes identifying what beachscape-based hazards have the greatest influence on beachgoing in Australia. Beachgoer awareness and knowledge of hazards are observed along with the effects of hazard encounters on subsequent beachgoing and beach use (including noting the effects of hazard experience and fear). The chapter concludes with a discussion about the effects of prolonged hazard encounters on the beachgoing perception of experienced Australian beach users, including how hazard experience influences decisions regarding risk-taking and acceptance of risk in beach use.
Chapter 6 reports the investigation of the third research question, which asks the extent to which risks involved in Australian beach use are known to the beachgoer. Chapter 6 also considers the influence of personality psychology on risk-taking at the beach and considers the methodological tenets of personality testing for inclusion in this thesis. This is followed by an assessment of the role of hazard and risk perception in beachscape decision-making, and the beachgoers most at-risk, as well as the extent to which false perceptions of safety operate in risk-taking behaviours.
Chapter 7 draws on evidence from previous research and observations from the research undertaken for this thesis to address the fourth research question about why risk-taking occurs on the Australian beach. This includes an exploration of the ways in which risk-taking is
16 encultured into beach use in Australia and how this in turn re-produces a culture of risk. This chapter also presents a discussion on how certain characteristics of the beach landscape in
Australia influence behaviour and decision-making amongst beachgoers. These characteristics contribute to an account of why risk-taking occurs at the beach.
The final chapter summarises what was discussed in the theme chapters and considers the implications of research findings. In addition, this chapter provides a discussion of the limitations of the research as well as listing any ongoing challenges and future possibilities that may further the findings of this thesis. Appendices follow the concluding chapter and include supporting documents that supplement the body of the thesis.
In the next chapter, I provide a contextual outline of the area of study. This includes describing the physical, social, cultural and economic attributes of the beach space that influence beachgoing behaviour and frame this research.
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2. Contextualising a thesis on risk in the Australian beachscape
2.1 Introduction
This chapter provides an account of the context within which the research for this thesis was undertaken. I consider a social constructivist approach to knowledge production, where conceptualising the research involves appreciating the socio-cultural foundations of the research framework as well as acknowledging the interpretative possibilities of the research process (Duit and Treagust, 1998; Kukla, 2013). It is necessary in this regard to outline the role of the Australian beach, its socio-cultural position and its historical importance, as well as its geomorphic processes and their impact on the health and safety of its human stakeholders.
Engagement between the physical landscape and associated socio-cultural processes of the beach underpin much of what contributes to a posited culture of risk-taking in Australian beach use. These connections are highlighted later in this thesis. For now, this chapter presents an overview of the fundamental components (of the physical landscape and socio- cultural processes) from which a risk-taking culture takes affective form.
Following on from Chapter 1, the first section of this chapter describes the physical characteristics of Australian beaches including the dynamic processes associated with their natural operation. The physical processes described in this chapter, which become hazards when engaged with by human subjects, are the physical incarnation of why risk exists in the beachscape. This section also provides physical descriptions of how the beach space is defined for the purposes of this thesis.
Following this, I give an historical account of the significance of the beach in Australia, with consideration of the relationships between the beach and Australian society. Within this section, I discuss the extent to which Australia has been – and is being – shaped as a nation as
18 a direct (and indirect) influence of the beachscape. This is significant to understanding the popularity of use surrounding the potentially hazardous environment of the beach.
The final section of this chapter contextualises the importance of understanding risk-taking in the beachscape by highlighting issues of public health and safety. These are discussed with regard to the physical processes also presented in this chapter, outlining the dangers faced by beach users and the role of stake-holding institutions such as the governing bodies that are charged with the protection of the public from such hazards. This section also outlines the implications of the hazardous Australian beach for policy makers. Why the Australian beach is such a popular destination for locals and travellers alike is also considered. The chapter concludes with an assessment of how the research aims (Chapter 1) tie in with the contextual discourse that has been presented here.
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2.2 Geomorphic context
This section provides physical descriptions of the beachscape processes in operation around
Australia’s coastline. To gauge the beach’s significance in Australia including the presence of risk that imbues beachgoing and the beach space, this section highlights the dynamic and dangerous land and seascapes that form Australia’s beaches. As Short and Farmer (2012, p5) remark, the beach “defines Australia perhaps more than any other modern nation”.
The Australian mainland coastline is close to 30,000 kilometres in length5 comprising of coastal sedimentary deposits consisting of beaches, dunes, estuaries and deltas, usually separated by rocky sections of headlands and impassably steep cliffs (Short and Woodroffe, 2009; Short,
2006, 2010). Australia’s coast is a dynamic, ever-changing suite of dramatic landforms. For example, the southern half of the continent is exposed to the world’s most energetic wave climate as well as being home to seven-hundred and ninety kilometres of continuous cliffs and rock that form the southern boundary of the Nullarbor Plain – the longest cliff line in the world
(Short and Woodroffe, 2009). Contrasting the seemingly endless curtain of cliffs along the
Great Australian Bight are the stately sandstone cliffs that flank the heads and line the shores of Sydney, or the dolerite columns and rugged granite cliffs of Tasmania forming numerous capes and headlands (Short and Woodroffe, 2009). The coast of Australia is dominated by ancient deeply weathered and denuded geology, not only old but resilient, consisting of intrusive and extrusive igneous, extensive metasedimentary and generally hard deeply jointed sedimentary strata (Short, 2010). Where the denuded bedrock is exposed along the coast, it has formed alternating headlands and embayments, together with reefs, rock platforms, islets and islands (Short, 2010).
5 Including Australia’s 12 hectares of islands, the coastline is closer to 47,000 kilometres in length (Short and Woodroffe, 2009). 20
Australia’s coastal environment is dominated by a generally arid to semi-arid climate that can be divided into four climatic zones: the tropical humid north, the warm temperate humid southeast, the warm temperate arid south and west coast, and the tropical arid northwest coast (Short, 2010). The consistent summer-like conditions experienced in these zones are conducive to beach use by locals and visitors.
Ocean waves are the most important process affecting the coast, they provide most of the energy to form and shape the shoreline, driving coastal evolution (Short and Woodroffe,
2009). Waves are generated by wind blowing over the ocean surface with wave height and period (time between successive waves) related to four factors: wind velocity, wind duration, fetch (length of ocean over which wind blows), and ocean depth (Short and Woodroffe, 2009).
The combination of short embayed beaches on the high-energy, sediment-deficient southern coast has resulted in a highly embayed coast with compartmentalised sediment cells
(otherwise known as beaches) that have little to no longshore exchange (of sand) (Short,
2010). These wind and wave-dominated beaches are predominately composed of fine to medium sand (0.1-1 mm) of carbonate-rich material. About forty-nine percent of the
Australian coast consists of these unconsolidated sediments taking the form of wave- deposited sandy beaches and backing dunes deposited by winds (Short, 2006, 2010; Short and
Woodroffe, 2009). The northern half of the continent is generally exposed to low to moderate short-period waves with tides ranging from two to eleven metres. In contrast, the southern half experiences two-metre tides on wave dominated beaches that are hammered by persistent Southern Ocean swells (Short, 2006). There is a significant seasonal variation in wave heights and orientation around the coast and on the beaches, with the Australian summer dominated by relatively smaller waves from the east, and winter dominated by larger waves from the southeast (Short and Trenaman, 1992).
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The following subsection is a description of the physical properties that constitute the (beach) space in which the research for this thesis was undertaken. Consideration of the beach’s physical form, such as its morphological properties, illustrates and contextualises the dangers associated with human engagements with the beach landscape.
2.2.1 Physical geography and morphology of Australian beaches
Australia has 11,761 mainland beaches at an average length of 1.37 km (Short, 2006; Short and
Farmer, 2012). Of particular interest to this thesis are the wave-dominated beach types that constitute forty-seven percent of beaches in Australia (Short, 2006). Wave-dominated beaches contain most of the hazards reported in this thesis (Chapter 5). As well, they represent the iconic or idealised Australian beach as depicted in Australia’s socio-historical imaginary
(Huntsman, 2001) (outlined in Section 2.3 and explored in Chapter 4). As documented by Short
(2006), wave-dominated beaches occur predominately around the southern half of the continent with only three percent of them occurring on the northern coast.
Bedrock and calcarenite play a major role in beach system formation, acting as boundaries for most beaches as well as lying along and off the coast as rocks, headlands, reefs, islets and islands inducing wave refraction and attenuation (Short, 2006). This produces the high degree of embaymentisation of Australia’s beaches with the amount of curvature due in part to wave refraction that occurs on a regional scale (Short, 2010). Contrasting the short embayed beaches prevalent around the populated coastlines of Tasmania, Victoria, NSW and southern
Queensland is the 222 km Eighty Mile Beach on the north-west coast of Western Australia, southeastern Victoria’s 151 km Ninety Mile Beach, and The Coorong. The Cape Jaffa-Murray
Mouth section of the Coorong is 194 km of continuous sand running along the coast of South
Australia. It features 20 km of extensive offshore reefs preventing the formation of ocean
22 waves that gradually build through the northern half of the beach into one of the highest wave energy beaches in Australia (Surf Life Saving Australia, 2009). As Short and Farmer (2012, p5) comment, “No other country has such a varied shoreline, from the palm-shaded beaches of the tropical north, to the wild wave-washed southern shores”.
In the following section I outline the processes that operate in a typical Australian beach system. Many of the hazards that beachgoers face when at the beach are the direct result of these processes.
2.2.2 Hydro-morphodynamic processes of a typical Australian beach system
The nearshore coastal region sits between the shoreline and a variable offshore limit, usually defined as the depth where bottom sediments are no longer influenced by waves (Svendsen,
2006). A wave-dominated beach system (representative of Australia’s most frequented and popular beaches) consists of this nearshore zone, which transitions into a surf and then swash zone as it reaches the shoreline (Figure 2.1). The morphodynamic approach to beaches considers the interactions between morphology and nearshore hydrodynamics (Short, 2012a).
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Figure 2.1 Idealised cross-section of a wave-dominated beach system. (Source: Short, 2012b)
Within the beach system, the morphodynamic approach accommodates the two-dimensional cross-shore relationship between the shoaling and breaking waves, the swash and surf zone and the underlying mobile topography – as well as three-dimensional beach response to changing wave-tide conditions6 (Short, 2012a). While beach morphodynamics focuses on physical interactions in the surf, these processes are what constitute many beachscape-based hazards (Short, 2012a) (discussed in Section 2.4).
The wave breaking mechanism on a beach is essential to nearly all coastal processes (Komar,
1998; Lin and Liu, 1998). In the beach system, ocean waves are transformed by shoaling, breaking, and swash – in doing so they interact with the seabed, determining beach morphology (Short, 2012b) (Figure 2.1). As waves enter the nearshore they shoal through seabed interaction, slowing and increasing in steepness and height (Figures 2.1 and 2.2) (Short,
6Briefly, beach morphodynamics are driven by nearshore wave and current motion. These mechanisms are explained in hydrodynamics by fluid flow in terms of: energy balance, wave modelling and wave theories, nearshore circulation and other flow phenomena (Svendsen, 2006). 24
2012b). When water depth is approximately one and a half times the wave height, the wave breaks as a spilling (shallow gradient), plunging (moderate gradient) or a surging (deep gradient) wave (Short, 2012b). The broken wave then moves through the surf zone and into the swash zone as a wave bore of broken white water – before returning seaward as a current.
Figure 2.2 The three sub-systems of wave transformation on a wave-dominated beach (adapted from Short, 2012b, arrows and descriptions added).
Surf zone currents transport sediment onshore, longshore and offshore and build the
(sand)bars and troughs that occupy the surf zone (Short, 2012b). On average, 17,500 surf zone currents (rip currents – or ‘rips’ as they are commonly known) are operating around the
Australian coast at any given time – and are particularly prevalent in the wave-dominated south of the continent (Short, 2006). Rips are one of the most prevalent beach hazards encountered by humans. The following pages of this subsection describe the operation of rip
25 currents within the surf zone including their influence on the beach system, and their hazardous nature.
Figure 2.3 A ‘classic’ rip system. (Source: Komar, 1998, after Hayes, 1985)
Rip currents occur when onshore mass transport of water associated with breaking waves piles water up at the shoreline, creating a water surface gradient that drives water offshore, often in concentrated flows constrained within deeper morphologic channels (Brander, 1999;
MacMahan et al., 2006; Short 2012b). Rips are part of surf zone circulation, a process driven by breaking waves. A ‘classic’ rip consist of a few general components (Figure 2.3). Longshore feeder currents carry water along the beach close to the shoreline that feed into a rip ‘neck’, the fast, narrow outward flow that carries water from the shore into deeper territory (Brander,
1999). Past the breaking waves, the rip current flow decelerates into an expanding rip ‘head’ often seen as a plume of disturbed water or sand as the rip current slows (MacMahan et al.,
2006). However, this classic model of the rip current has been challenged more recently with increasing evidence of rips occurring in circular formations (Figures 2.4 and 2.5) (Dronen et al.,
2002; Austin et al., 2010; MacMahan et al., 2010).
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Figure 2.4 ‘Classic’ rip with purple dye (a feeder current, as marked by the purple dye, travels longshore and into the rip neck, which then moves directly seaward). (Source: Robert Brander, pers. comm.)
Figure 2.5 Circular rip with purple dye (the purple dye circles around back to shore whilst remaining within the breaker zone). (Source: Robert Brander, pers. comm.)
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In reality, rip currents take on many different forms, with longshore feeder currents not always present as well as there being the existence of circular rips (MacMahan et al., 2010; 2011)
(Figures 2.4 and 2.5). Because of their often-strong velocities, rips can also move sediment seaward, and therefore play an integral part in surf zone sediment transport, in particular offshore sand transport during beach erosion (Short, 2007; Austin et al., 2010). “The strong seaward rip flow in often a deeper channel will also transport seaward any buoyant object located in the flow, including flotsam and people” (Short, 2007, p7).
Rip currents vary in speed, size, direction and location depending on variables including wave energy and height, beach morphology and bathymetry (Brander, 1999; MacMahan et al., 2006;
Short, 2007; Bruneau et al., 2009; Austin et al., 2010). In a rip system a phenomenon known as rip pulsing can occur. This is when a ‘set’ of waves, distinguished by larger height and energy, bringing to shore greater volumes of water, must then flow seaward producing a sudden acceleration of rip flow for a short amount of time (MacMahan et al., 2006). Rip pulsation can often be mistaken for a sandbar collapse7 and are a common Australian beachscape hazard
(MacMahan et al., 2006).
Rip currents are modulated by tidal changes in water depth where low tidal stages enable rip current flows to attain a relative maximum (Brander and Short, 2000; Austin et al., 2010). With increases in technology, rip current science is constantly evolving and swiftly. For example
Bruneau et al. (2009) observed that the occurrence of maximum rip current intensity, which is close to mid/low tide for low energy waves, shifts towards high tide with increasing wave energy. This follows Brander and Short’s (2000) study of an increased wave height scenario, where low tides were seen to exhibit maximum velocities. The evolving approaches to rip
7 Collapsing sandbars are a fictitious hazard often blamed in place of a rip current. Short and Hogan (1994, p198) write, “the media commonly blame beach accidents and tragedy on freak waves, collapsing sand bars, undertows and the like, all catchy and alarming terms that may have little relevance to the actual circumstances that contributed to the accident”. 28 current research has impacts on policymaking with regard to safe beach practice and beachgoing, and is explored in Section 2.4 of this chapter.
Rip currents represent the greatest hazard in the Australian surf as well as being an integral part of nearshore morphodynamics (Short, 2007). Their danger, impact and influence on beachscape risk are explored in later chapters.
Other hazards in the beach system include shallow (sand)banks and submerged objects, which swimmers may inadvertently come into contact with. Large waves and storm swells present a hazard to beachgoers – some of which may underestimate the power of the surf. Marine life including stingers and sharks for example are a hazard in Australia, as are board and motor craft. Many other potential hazards exist such as pollution in the form of litter in the sand or toxins in the water, possible violence from other beachgoers, objects blown by strong winds, or cars, which are permitted on some beaches. A significant hazard is also presented by sunlight exposure – a common practice in the Australian beachscape. This is explained in the following sections.
The dynamic natural processes and hazards that operate on many Australian beaches, specifically within the surf zone, which occur in tandem with Australia’s popular engagement with the beach, contributed to the establishment and consolidation of the Australian surf lifesaving movement. Today the lifesaving movement is an integral part of Australian beach culture and national imaginary. The need to safeguard revellers from the dynamic Australian surf was obvious early on, and since then new safety concerns have become apparent, most notably those presented by the hazards of rip currents and sunlight exposure. The next section outlines the history of beach use in Australia to highlight some of the reasons why people engage with such a physically challenging and potentially hazardous environment.
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2.2 Socio-historical and cultural context
Appreciating why beachgoing is so popular in Australia is critical to understanding the lure of an environment consisting of so many potential hazards. This section details how the beach became a cultural locus in Australian society.
The image of the ‘Bronzed Aussie’ as a healthy, young individual enjoying sun and surf on the beach is well established as a portrayal of how outsiders, and Australians, view life in Australia.
The original term belongs to journalist Mike Hurst who, along with three of Australia’s top surfers at the time coined the term to promote surfing as ambassadors for their sport in 1976, which was prior to the era of surfing professionalism (Heller, 2001). The longevity of the
‘Bronzed Aussie’ provides an example of the significance of beach culture within the Australian psyche and its journey from a harsh foreign land during colonial times, to a surfer’s paradise.
As Booth (2001, foreword) explains:
“The image of the Outdoors Aussie is well known, well established and well founded.
Early European arrivals at Botany Bay may have found conditions catastrophic but later
bathers on Bondi beach found conditions congenial. For them life was (if not is) a
beach”.
The beach in Australia was not always seen as it is today. Early European settlers and
Indigenous peoples both held different views to each other and to modern Australia (Metusela and Waitt, 2012). Most settlers held preconceptions of beaches as uninviting and dangerous, whereas the Aboriginal communities that lived along the coastline often derived much of their livelihood from fishing and trade, or held the ocean and parts of the coast (including beaches) in spiritual or cultural regard (Steinberg, 1999; Australian Government, 2008; Ellison, 2011).
These divergent encounters of the beach served to dramatise the difference between the two cultures (Huntsman, 2001). Dening (1980) uses this separation as an overarching metaphor in
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Islands and Beaches to understand and explain the process of culture contact, implying that an
‘island’ is the culture constructed by a people and a ‘beach’ is the boundary between cultures
(Maybury-Lewis, 1982). As newcomers cross that boundary, bringing with them all the cultural meanings and phenomena from their own ‘island’, they change the culture of the newly visited
‘island’ forever. Early records suggest that colonists including soldiers and convicts needed no urging in following the example of the Aboriginal people in entering the water, despite officialdom’s efforts to discourage them (Huntsman, 2001). The historian Michael Cannon
(1978 p163) remarks that “no doubt the hotter climate, combined with easy access to beaches and rivers encouraged a good deal of bathing simply for the sake of coolness in summer”.
During the early colonisation of Australia, it became obvious that the hinterland loomed much larger than the coast and the European settlers quickly established farming and grazing inland for sheep and later wheat (Skinner et al. 2003; Clancy, 2004; Macintyre, 2009). The powerful drive of the farming economy, the discovery of gold in the 1850s, and the establishment of
Canberra as the capital city saw Australia focus its attention and build its early identity around what became known as ‘the bush’ – “the nation that rode proudly on the sheep’s back”
(Spearritt, 2003, p25). The importance of ‘the outback’ in shaping modern Australian culture may arguably be second only to the beach (Skinner et al., 2003; McGloin, 2005; Hartley and
Green, 2006; Brawley, 2007), although many argue for the importance of the bush legend over a coastal identity (White, 1981; Cashman et al., 2001; Elder, 2008). On this, Blazey (1985, p50) states:
“Forget Gallipoli, the outback, and the Aussie battler and other tedious wowser, myths
from our Anglo-Irish puritan past; the essence of being Australian is, regrettably,
something much more sensual. It is to lie on warm sand under a carcinogenic sun
watching other bodies walking or lying around and then to cleanse yourself in the
ocean.”
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Dutton (1985, p6) writes that colonialist mythology often misrepresented the beach and its importance in early Australian culture while privileging the bush. Postcolonial understandings of Australia’s culture, on the other hand, render the beach as the ‘dominant culture in
Australian life’, not the bush. Fiske (1989, p56) ponders a postmodern interpretation of the beach explaining, “The beach is an anomalous category, overflowing with meaning because it is neither land nor sea, nature nor culture, but partakes of both”. Hammer (2012, prologue) remarks, “It is, after all, the great Australian dichotomy, our essential yin and yang: the bush and the beach. Most of us live in suburbia, but our hearts are elsewhere”.
Despite the political and economic power of ‘the bush’, the port cities continued to grow and by 1900, Sydney was among the 25 largest cities in the world. Sydney and Melbourne both had populations of over half a million each (Spearritt, 2003; Clancy, 2004). Baths and seaside resorts were popular in England at the time and were also established around the major colonies in the late 19th and early 20th centuries (Huntsman, 2001). According to Spearritt
(2003), the origins of Australia’s current beach cultures can be found around this time amongst the efforts to civilise the beach – there was a tendency for naked bathing by colonists. These early efforts had a distinctly English flavour, as illustrated in one of the earliest Australian beach paintings, ‘Brighton Beach’ by Henry Burn (1862) (Figure 2.6). The painting features a dark, muddy-coloured beach reflecting a crimson hazed sky and showing a pier at one end of the beach. As at English seaside resorts, piers and jetties were built around the Australian coastline (Huntsman, 2001). Huntsman (2001) identifies one of the most ambitious attempts to popularise the Australian beach. This was a plan by English businessperson Henry Gilbert
Smith to build ‘the Brighton of Sydney’ at Manly. Smith, who recognised Manly’s potential, bought or leased much of the land around the area renaming many of the streets and parks and planting Norfolk Island pine trees to ‘improve’ the look by giving it a more European flavour than the cabbage-tree palms and wildflowers endemic to the area. Alongside efforts to
32 change the flora, Huntsman (2001, p92) writes, “The names given to streets along the beach of
‘esplanade’, ‘parade’ and ‘terrace’ only serve as a pale reminder of what might have, but probably never could have, been”. The beach seemed to resist these alterations.
Figure 2.6 ‘Brighton Beach’ by Henry Burn (left) compared to a more recent image of the same beachscape (right) (illustrating an almost polar contrast between the two). (Source: Bayside City Council, www.bayside.vic.gov.au)
As the centenary of colonial settlement approached in 1888, more and more artistic work was being produced that was inspired by the beach (Huntsman, 2001). Artists of the Heidelberg school in Melbourne reflected in their landscape paintings the growing feelings that the country now belonged to Australians and it was theirs for profit and enjoyment. These paintings depict well-dressed, middle-class people calmly strolling along the beach often with wild waves in the background crashing into sand – a reminder of the shipwrecking, dangerous ocean depicted in earlier paintings and poems (Huntsman, 2001). As Figure 2.7 illustrates, children where the only ones to be seen enjoying the water in these images (as circled under the boardwalk).
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Figure 2.7 ‘A holiday at Mentone’ by Charles Conder (illustrates a more realistic view of Australia’s beaches of white, carbonate rich sands and blue waters, the latter of which remaining off-limits to the well-dressed revellers, apart from children, circled). (Adapted from: Art Gallery New South Wales, www. archive.artgallery.nsw.gov.au)
As a result of the Police Offences Act in 1901, day time surf-bathing was banned with large fines issued to offenders who, to evade the law, moved to more secluded, less accessible locations where they were actively hunted down by police (Huntsman, 2001; Skinner et al.,
2003). It is around this time (the beginning of the twentieth century) that authors detailing the cultural history of Australia (White, 1981; Booth, 2001; Huntsman, 2001; Skinner et., 2003;
Elder, 2008; Macintyre, 2009) write less of the British influence and colonial living in Australia, and more of the emergence of a nation in its own right.
In the search for a national identity at the turn of the century, there was much debate about the ‘typical’ Australian. A particular group of characteristics emerged including independence, manliness, a fondness for sport, egalitarianism, a dislike of mental effort, self-confidence, and a certain disdain for authority (White, 1981; Knight, 1994). The Australian female is notably absent from descriptions of a national type. Female characteristics remained stereotypically personal and feminine, as fresh, beautiful, with good sense and lack of affectation (White, 34
1981). Masculinity and male clichés dominated the Australian type with women generally excluded from this with the exception of a capacity to acquire a kind of second-rate masculinity by being a ‘tomboy’ (White, 1981; Elder, 2008).
Disrespect for authority, and resentment at police harassment due to bathing laws, led many to publicly defy the laws (Huntsman, 2001). This was most famously achieved by Manly newspaper proprietor W. H. Gocher who broke the law by entering the surf in daylight hours on three consecutive Sundays in 1902 (Booth, 2001; Huntsman, 2001). This act combined with a mass surf-in at Bondi, a complaint lodged by Waverly Council and police concerns about being too busy chasing surf-bathers to protect the suburbs from crime, contributed to the end of the ban on daylight bathing, but not the end of attempts to constrain activities on the beach. Subsequent bans were placed on mixed bathing, dressing and undressing on the beach, sunbaking and unsuitable beach attire (Booth, 2001; Huntsman, 2001). According to Huntsman
(2001, p65) the reasons for the ongoing resistance to the laws banning daytime bathing can be attributed to “the effect of the triumph of the bourgeois values of respectability and propriety in Victorian society, allied with the power of the churches”. No more is Knight’s (1994, p2) observation – that “a country that prides itself on disregard for repressive law is also a culture that constantly makes rules” – better illustrated than in the case of regulation of the beaches
(Huntsman, 2001). However, the achievement of freedom on the beach in the early twentieth century was not procured through the efforts of the proletarian masses, but by those of status and authority (Huntsman, 2001). Hegemonic support for bathing was later enlisted based on the health benefits of beachgoing and the recognition of the financial gain to be made from the popularity of beachgoing (Huntsman, 2001).
As bathing became legalised and surf-bathing numbers increased, so did the need for an effective means of monitoring and protecting the public from the various hazards associated with beachgoing. Histories of the formation of individual surf rescue clubs show a common
35 theme: a drowning tragedy, followed by a public meeting and the establishment of a club
(Huntsman, 2001). The public embraced the idea/ideal of the lifesaving movement and “by the
1930s lifesavers were the lords of Australia’s beaches and icons of masculinity, discipline and humanitarianism” (Booth, 2001, p65) – women were not permitted to become lifesavers until
1980 (Jaggard, 1999; 2001). Lifesavers in the 1930s dominated popular media (Phillip, 1940) and to this day represent much of what many believe make up the Australian identity and the
Australian type (Jaggard, 2001; Huntsman, 2001; Skinner et al., 2003; Ford et al., 2007).
Commenting on the development of this social movement, Ford et al. (2007 p1) explains:
“Sunday, 6 February 1938, a day on which five people drowned and hundreds more
were rescued at Sydney’s Bondi Beach, has been recognised as one of the most deadly
and dramatic days in the history of Australia’s modern beach culture [and has since
been known as the Black Sunday rescues]. It was also a day on which the importance
of the Australian surf lifesaving movement became starkly evident, for without the
presence of lifesavers on the beach, the death toll would likely have been much
higher”.
The red and yellow caps worn by lifesavers and the red and yellow flags (Figure 2.8) marking safe bathing represent the most visually arresting signs that the Australian beach had acquired distinctly local characteristics (Huntsman, 2001). The beach itself had become uniquely
Australian. This is illustrated by the fact that in other countries the beach may be ceded to private ownership (Marin et al., 2009), whilst attempts to appropriate the beach in Australia are met with fierce resistance (Huntsman, 2001). Huntsman (2001, p90) adds, “as the beaches lost most of their built accoutrements [piers and jetties], they kept increasing in popularity. It seemed that the lure of the beach was sufficient unto itself”. Huntsman (2001) is expressing here that the popularity of beaches in Australia is not predicated on anything but the beach space itself, evident in the fact that most beach spaces around Australia are absent of human
36 development (such as piers or jetties) or highly urbanised backdrops. The most notable exception to this in Australia is the Gold Coast (Figure 2.8), which enjoys large tourist
(Australian and overseas) popularity amongst a backdrop of towering hotels, a sight uncommon on Australian beaches yet common around many popular international beaches.
The beach itself however remains almost completely untouched.
Figure 2.8 Red and yellow flags on Kurrawa beach, Gold Coast (the flags mark safe swimming areas on Australian beaches during patrolled swimming months (September to April). This image also illustrates that despite commercial and tourist structures framing the coastline, the beach itself remains almost bare). (Source: www.capricornia.com.au)
The unobstructed sands of most popular beaches in Australia can be seen as a celebration of ordinariness, adding to the casual atmosphere and inclusiveness that have influenced attitudes to beachgoing generally (Huntsman, 2001). Gibson (2001, p282) explains:
“in the discourse of Australian ordinariness, the significance of the beach is not a site of
escape but, on the contrary, of a certain inertia; it is a place where things can be
trusted to endure”.
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A national pride had begun to emerge around the same time the beaches took on more and more ‘Australian’ characteristics. These characteristics celebrated the local rather than the imported. A catalyst for this was what White (1981) describes as ‘the coming man’ personified in the valorous efforts of the Australian solider (diggers) during the First World War. White
(1981 p129) comments that, “The reaction in Australia was to accept these idealised heroic qualities as not only characteristic of the digger, but to see them as distinctive to Australians”.
The attributing of characteristics synonymous with being Australian were used to label someone and/or something as being either Australian or ‘un-Australian’. “In both cases’ ‘being
Australian’ is a complex notion that extends well beyond concepts of citizenship and it influences aspects of life that may seem unconnected to nationality” (Elder, 2008, p2). For example, the lifesaver is regarded as a quintessential Australian (masculine) body (Saunders,
1998; Jaggard, 2001; Brawley, 2007; Taylor, 2009) and the beach a quintessential Australian site (Booth, 2001; Elder, 2008; Taylor, 2009), and it is within this context of Australian
‘ownership’ of the beach that what begins as a lifestyle has been seen to transform into a sort of hyper-nationalism (/xenophobia) (Shaw, 2009). This was witnessed during the Cronulla riots of 2005 (Noble, 2009), where Anglo-Australians reacted to an incident involving men of
‘Middle-Eastern’ appearance, “as an ardent defence of the dream of quintessential Australian bodies and beaches” (Taylor, 2009, p112). The Cronulla retaliation of Anglo-nationalism was a unified front of predominately-young white, middle-class males (Taylor, 2009). It was an event that contradicted what many had come to believe represented what it meant to be Australian in the contemporary era of multiculturalism and was almost universally dubbed ‘shameful’ by local media (Figure 2.9).
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Figure 2.9 Newspaper clippings of the 2005 Cronulla Beach riots (Australian media universally panned the 2005 Cronulla beach riots displaying graphic images of violence and filling articles with slogans such as “disgrace” and “shameful”).
Elder (2008, p7) explains that:
“Some places are seen as more Australian than others – for example the beach is
represented in dominant stories of the nation as more Australian than a city or its outer
suburbs. The Australian-ness of spaces can change. For instance, some Australians
seeing images of a suburb gripped by riots express how alien the images seem. They do
not identify the place as Australian. When a riot ends the place is reclaimed as
Australian”.
The ‘defence’ of the beach representative of the 2005 Cronulla riots illustrates its demarcation by many as significantly Anglo-Australian, whilst highlighting the strong emotions derived from the beach space. The rioters’ ‘protection’ of the beach was derived from efforts to preserve personal notions of continuity and safety (Harries, 2008). This is explored later in this thesis, in
Chapter 7. The riots demonstrate that the beach space in Australia is inclusive – in the
39 congregation of rioters to its ‘defence’, and exclusionary – in the case of the rioters’ derision of non-Anglo-Australian/non-conforming beachgoers (further explored in Chapter 4).
By the 1930s, going to the beach had become arguably one of the most popular recreations and visible sites of public hedonism in Australia (Booth, 1994). This lifestyle was no more wholeheartedly embraced than by the Australian surfer (Booth, 2001). For years, up until the
1960s, the bodysurfer symbolised Australian surfing culture (Jaggard, 2007). Nowadays board riders have taken their place. The introduction of surfboard wave-riding, or surfing, to Australia
– allegedly by a Hawaiian surfer8, Duke Kahanamoku in 1914 – did not gain immediate popularity and was initially banned by The Surf Bathing Association of New South Wales
(SBANSW), the forerunner of the Surf Life Saving Association of Australia (SLSAA) and later Surf
Life Saving Australia (SLSA). Booth (2001, p39) states that SBANSW officials initially opposed surfboards because they wanted to develop a distinctly Australian brand of surf lifesaving and surfboards had already been adopted by professional lifeguards in Hawai’i and California. The benefit of surfboards as rescue devices could not be ignored for long and in 1917, a Local
Government Act allowed surfboards to be used. Huntsman (2001, p70) writes that the important development that “increased surfing’s social acceptability and allayed the anxieties of those who feared that disorder might result from unrestricted freedom, was the rise of the surf lifesaving movement”. The rise in popularity of surfing during the 1950s also caused SLSAA officials to fear a mass exodus of numbers from the structured and militarised regime of lifesaving clubs to the pure hedonistic appeals and individuality of surfing (Booth, 1994; 2001).
The exodus did not happen yet the divisions continued to compound and by the 1960s signs of a rift were developing between the “free-flowing board rider (and the) institutionalized status and regimen surf lifesaver” (Lewis, 2003, p64). The lifesaver and the surfer in this sense could be said to represent the old (colonial) and the new (colonial) Australian, or ‘the coming man’ –
8 Surfboard wave riding may have existed in Australia prior to 1914. Aboriginal Australians claim to have surfed well before European colonisation (McGloin, 2005). This contestation is important, but beyond the aims of this thesis. 40 heroic and substantial, and the post-modern Australian – carefree and hedonistic, whilst both encompassed aspects of the ‘Australian type’ with the beach as the site of their convergence
(Fiske, 1989; Huntsman, 2001; Lewis, 2003).
The 1970s marked the beginning of new relationships between surfers, emerging from the counterculture of the 1960s, and SLSAA as hostility gave way to a co-existence based on mutual pleasures and discipline (Booth, 1994). Over the years, both have been a focus for the marketing of Australian products and of Australia itself. Gliddon (2002, p1) explains:
“Surfing wasn’t invented in Australia, but with more surfable coastline than anywhere
on Earth, we’ve made it our own. Most people live close to the sea and the beach is as
much a part of daily life as cricket. T-shirts and board shorts [and bikinis] are the
summer uniform of young and old, rich and poor. Add a few logos and some marketing
nous and this laid back lifestyle has been reborn as a global industry”.
The surfing culture provides a potent complement to today’s capitalist market economy through tourism and the sale of surfing paraphernalia. In its contemporary context, surf culture emphasises competition, freedom, mateship and individual prowess, which sits comfortably within the ideological Australian national imaginary (McGloin, 2005). Discussing the part surfing and the beach play in contemporary constructions of Australian identity,
McGloin (2005, p6) argues that locating surfing’s ‘roots’ in Hawai’i serves to ‘exoticise’ surfing’s origins, “it locates it in a discourse of primitivism that white Australian surfing culture can mimic, aligning itself with a philosophy of nature and spirituality”. This has enabled an aspect of national identity that is removed from British heritage, but also, from the land itself and its pre-colonial identity. In many ways, this is a globalised image of Australianness. The large global industry in ‘Aussie’ surfing paraphernalia is testament to the breadth of its appeal (for example, Billabong shops in airports, and mambo-world.com).
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Surf lifesavers are also modelled in the media to promote the country’s image to overseas markets. Over time, the recreational activities of surfing and the beach safety services of lifesaving have become so highly organised and commercialised that Stewart (2003, p185) claims they too have become ‘commodified’ (Stranger, 2011). This is true for most aspects of the Australian beach as can be seen in marketing campaigns to overseas travellers, with depictions of picturesque beaches dominating the images, and lifesavers and surfers shown amongst scenes of white sands and clear blue waters. Within this ‘commodified’ image, the
‘Australian experience’ is reduced to a singular physical type or place – a homogenized image of youth and idyllic settings – that compresses Australia’s cultural diversity and fuels media stereotypes (Jaggard, 2001; Stewart, 2003; Waddell, 2003). Waitt (1997) suggests these advertisements maintain a myth originating from oppressive colonial and patriarchal relations, and are not only regressive but conflict with articulations of national identity emanating from sources other than surfing and lifesaving.
Regardless of its extensive utilisation to promote Australia abroad the beach has largely managed to retain its simple appeal. This appeal is symbolised by Max Dupain’s (1937)
Sunbaker, a photograph showing a man lying on his stomach, head to camera, with drops of water glistening off his body suggesting he has just come out of the surf (Figure 2.10). As
Huntsman (2001, p142) remarks, “the beach goer may choose to remain self-sufficient, resisting the blandishments of a consumerist culture that seeks to ‘market’ the beach’s image”, and simply enjoy its offerings.
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Figure 2.10 “Sunbaker” by Max Dupain. (Source: www.nga.gov.au)
The beach in the modern Australian socio-cultural memory invokes an emotionally charged relationship with the people who use it. This reaches beyond conscious feelings of nationalism or belonging. It has become a way of behaving and of life in Australia that most Australians would share, but might find difficult to articulate (Huntsman, 2001). A rushed search for the
‘Australian type’ and a national identity was based upon the widely held belief that Australia is a young Anglo-centric country with a short history. This complete disregard for pre-colonial histories – the belief that Aboriginal people had lived in an a-historical vacuum – has elided the existence of Aboriginal people on the coast and left them inland as outback dwellers (Bonnett,
1997; Shaw, 2000; Huntsman, 2001; Metusela and Waitt, 2012).
Using the beach as a central theme to nationalistic identity that ignores Aboriginal histories creates a paradox. Fiske et al. (1987) explain that because the symbolic nature of the
‘outdoors’ represented by the beach and its history as a ‘natural’ landscape within urban space, beaches are able to be associated with ‘civilisation’, and not the wild, natural (or
43
Aboriginal) world. The belief that surfing was imported rather than part of Aboriginal life in
Australia has supported a neo-colonial project that surfing is the domain of the (white) bronzed Aussie. This culture/nature binary of the Australian beachscape has significance also for beachgoing and risk-taking, as detailed in later chapters. Another layer of complexity arises when Australian beaches represent both culture and nature simultaneously (Huntsman, 2001).
Fiske et al. (1987, p72) state:
“It is the flexibility of the beach, its wide potential for meaning, that allows different
sections of society to find in it different ways of articulating, different ways of relating
... between culture and nature.”
As Dening (1980) and Fiske (1989) explain, crossing from the ocean to the sand is like crossing a physical (ocean/land) and metaphorical (nature/culture) boundary. An extension to these beach space binaries are the different perceptions and meanings the beach hold for different people. “Beaches are places of contact, of confrontation and friction: first-comers [such as the
British arriving in Australia in 1788] always arrive on a beach” (Hosking et al., 2009, vii). The continent of Australia’s littoral zone was the first frontier to be identified and settled (Hosking et al., 2009). It was close to a hundred years before the interior would be travelled and settled by non-indigenous people (Hosking et al., 2009). The strategic importance of the beach in
Australian history, and in the make-up of the modern nation, is illustrated by history’s significant post-colonial events that have in some way involved a beach. This includes the first fleet’s arrival in 1788, the beach landings on Anzac Cove during the First World War, the Black
Sunday rescues on Bondi Beach in 1938, the revolutionary surf lifesaving movement, the
Cronulla race riots, and the overwhelming presence of the beach in Australia’s (inter)national image.
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The importance of the beach in Australia has been captured in popular culture, such as a scene from the 1981 film Gallipoli, which demonstrates the extent to which the beach had been incorporated into the Australian imaginary:
“The troopships carrying Australian soldiers have arrived in Anzac Cove and, waiting for
the invasion to commence, the soldiers respond to the transparent sea around them by
shedding their uniforms and diving into the water. It is a scene of innocent delight as
they frolic in the sparkling water, engaging in the horseplay so often enjoyed at home –
they are only boys” (Huntsman, 2001, p195).
Of course, this innocent engagement with something so familiar was short lived as history attests. Nevertheless, what this infatuation demonstrates is a culture that will find pleasure in beach use no matter the circumstance. The above scene also demonstrates the Australian beachgoer’s comfort in the presence of risk, interpreted amongst the soldiers’ engagement with horseplay during a time of war – the location of this horseplay being, of course, a beach.
In another war-like scenario, the Cronulla race riots demonstrated that the Australian beach will be defended if a threat is perceived.
The next section considers the consequence of engagements with risk borne out of a beachgoing culture. Some risks are far more insidious than riots or rip currents. The rise of skin cancer incidence and awareness in Australia, including its impact on beachgoing, is an example of the outcome of a society so enamoured with the beach, it is highly susceptible and somewhat oblivious to certain hazards. The public health and safety industry that surrounds beachgoing in Australia is also discussed. This industry is a consequence of the hazardous nature of the Australian beachscape with significant social, cultural, financial and political implications. These are discussed in the next section, and explored throughout this thesis.
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2.4 Public health and safety context
Public health and safety concerns for beachgoers exist because
a) beachgoing is a part of the cultural fabric in Australia (Section 2.3), and;
b) the physical processes that operate in the Australian beachscape (Section 2.2) are
particularly hazardous because of this.
The cost of beachgoer protection is another important part of this investigation of a culture of risk in Australian beach use. Costs relate to the loss of life that would be incurred in the absence of current safeguards and the cost of implementing and supporting these safeguards.
This section details the health and safety consequences of Australia’s beachgoing and risk- taking culture. It also lists some statistics that highlight why the issue of beachscape risk-taking is an important area of research.
A main cause for concern is the level of drowning on Australian beaches, which would be much higher were it not for the humanitarian efforts of other beachgoers. The 6th of February 1938 was “a benchmark for the bravery, dedication and indispensability of the surf lifesaving movement [and] ensured the term Black Sunday would be enshrined in the Australian public culture” (Brawley, 2007, p142). Reports suggested that up to two-hundred and fifty men, women and children had been rescued by Bondi lifesavers in less than twenty minutes, the largest mass rescue in Australian and international surf bathing history (Brawley, 2007).
Earliest records put the Australian drowning death rate as high as 8.76 deaths per 100 000 population in 1920. “A program of lifesaving, water safety, drowning prevention and community action has resulted in a rate of less than 2 deaths per 100 000 population (as of
2007)” (Australian Water Safety Council, 2008). According to Surf Life Saving Australia’s (SLSA)
National Coastal Safety Report (2013a) the eight year crude coastal drowning average from
2004 to 2013 in Australia was 0.44 per 100 000 population – ninety-five people on average a
46 year. The rate for 2012-13 was 0.53 and the number was one-hundred and twenty-one – the highest in the last nine years (Surf Life Saving Australia, 2013a). Of the one-hundred and nineteen people who drowned in 2011-2012, sixty-five percent occurred on a beach or just offshore and fifty-six percent of those were within five kilometres from the nearest lifesaving service, mostly occurring outside of the summer months when surf patrols are active (Surf Life
Saving Australia, 2012; 2013a). The rip current coastal hazard alone is reportedly responsible for forty-four percent of all beach-related drownings over the last ten years, and has been attributed to fifty-seven percent of major rescues that have taken place over this period
(Brighton et al., 2013). However, the numbers could be higher (Brewster and Gould, 2014).
Previously, rip current related rescues have been cited as high as eighty to ninety percent
(Short and Hogan, 1994; Sherker et al., 2008; Brander and MacMahan, 2011). To put these numbers in to perspective, in the United States – with a population that is fourteen times larger than Australia – the United States Lifesaving Association (USLA, 2014) reported that the annual number of fatalities due to rip currents on US beaches is about one-hundred per year, just twice the number for Australia9 (Brander and MacMahan, 2011).
Along with rip currents, beachgoers are exposed to a number of potentially fatal hazards in and out of the surf zone (these are more thoroughly explored in Chapter 5). The next subsection considers the need for beachgoer protection in Australia followed by a subsection outlining the value and cost of hazard mitigation.
2.4.1 Health and safety concerns for Australian beach users
Despite well established systems of protection in place in the form of lifesaving and lifeguard services, only about four-hundred (four percent) of Australia’s beaches are actively guarded or
9 It should be noted that whilst Australia experiences a high number of unintentional drowning incidence, New Zealand experiences numbers twice that of Australia (Langley et al., 2001). 47 patrolled, and patrolling services are only in operation during the warmer months (around
October to April) (Australian Water Safety Council, 2012). The primary goal of surf patrol services is to provide water safety in the form of drowning prevention and rescue authority
(SLSA, 2013b). In a report on drowning and beach safety along the Mediterranean coast of
Israel, Hartman (2006) found that of the 1200 reported victims in the last thirty years almost none had occurred on officially guarded beaches. Whereas in Australia, the three percent of beaches that are patrolled constituted ten percent of all drowning from 2001-2006, illustrating the high-risk associated with popular surf beach usage in Australia (Sherker et al., 2008). The
Australian Water Safety Council (AWSC) (2012) refers to these high-risk beaches as ‘drowning black spots’, any area with a high concentration of coastal and ocean drowning is combined with a likely probability of these reoccurring. On the issue of unpatrolled beaches, the AWSC
(2012) explains that increased population migration to areas without adequate public safety infrastructure and services places a greater number of people at risk of drowning. This highlights a need to expand service reach, rethink lifeguard service provision or improve public awareness (McKay et al., 2014). On this, the AWSC (2012, p24) note that the increase in coastal migrants is also an issue, and state that:
“The increasing non-metropolitan coastal population brings with it further challenges
for these scarce resources ... It exerts extra pressure on community infrastructure,
including aquatic facilities, and exposes gaps or inadequacies in existing community
groups such as lifesaving clubs”.
The 2012-15 Australian water safety strategy (AWSC, 2012) identified that males account for most coastal drowning deaths, with infants, fifteen to twenty-four year olds and fifty-five years old and over the most vulnerable age demographics. Surf Life Saving Australia (2013a) recorded eighty-seven percent of all drowning victims from 2012-13 as male. Holidaymakers
(domestic and international) are similarly overrepresented in the coastal drowning statistics
48 with Surf Life Saving Australia (2012) reporting forty-two percent of drowning occurring over fifty kilometres from where the victim lived. This indicates that drowning is more likely to occur at unfamiliar locations, akin to a beach holiday. Of particular significance are beachgoers of non-white ethnicity, making up twenty-eight percent of coastal drowning deaths in 2011-12, eleven percent of which were international visitors (Surf Life Saving Australia, 2012). Morgan
(2006) reports that the international tourist death toll is actually as high as one third of all
Australian surf beach drowning. Accidental death by drowning accounts for approximately
0.2% of deaths in Australia according to the ABS. The percentage of drowning deaths for overseas visitors is five percent – fifty times higher than the domestic Australian rate (Leggat and Wilks, 2009).
Another major health concern for Australian beach-users is the likelihood of skin cancer brought about by the increased exposure to sunlight associated with Australian beachgoing.
Australia has the highest incidence of skin cancer globally, where one out of every two
Australians will be treated for it during their lifetime (Montague et al., 2001; McDermott et al.,
2003; Stanton et al., 2004). Stanton et al. (2004) claim that most research on sun protection has been carried out in Australia or the United States, but results obtained in populations constantly exposed to high levels of solar radiation might not be applicable to other populations. For example, an objective positive effect of moderate sunlight exposure during summer might exist (Stanton et al., 2004). Chapuy et al. (1997) observed that fourteen percent of French adults living in an urban environment with a lack of direct exposure to sunlight were deficient in vitamin D. In Australia, the recommended daily exposure for a suitable supplement of vitamin D is about six minutes a day in the sun in summer and fifteen minutes in winter, and only fifteen percent of the body need be exposed. According to Stanton et al. (2004), the sun protection knowledge, attitudes and behaviour patterns observed in Australia are similar to other countries, although Australian studies tend to report higher knowledge levels about skin
49 cancer and higher levels of sun protection. Despite this knowledge, Australia has the highest skin cancer incidence rate in the world (Australian Government, 2014).
McDermott et al. (2003) explore the contradictory paradigms of health and pleasure concerning sunlight exposure in Australia, claiming the desirability of tanned skin is a mark of cultural attractiveness amongst Australians, particularly adolescents. McDermott et al. (2003, p106) comment that:
“The attractiveness of a suntan is not only linked to the prevailing beauty standards of
society, but in a cultural context, it embraces Australian lifestyle and central to this
lifestyle is a beach culture where the importance of a suntanned body is most salient.”
McDermott et al. (2003, p106) explain that decision-making regarding sun safety in Australia seems to almost defy rational calculation “instead it is a case of what outweighs what at the time”. The issue is notably concerning for young women in their late teens to early thirties according to McDermott et al. (2003) with the majority reporting deliberate and extensive exposure to sunlight for the purpose of tanning. International visitors similarly perceive an
Australian holiday as an opportunity to tan with sunburn being one of the greatest tourism health risks (Peattie et al., 2005). Peattie et al. (2005) explain that tanning and skin cancer are difficult issues for the tourism industry to confront because the “sunshine holiday” is a mainstay of the entire industry, particularly in Australia.
There are other factors contributing to the health and wellbeing of beachgoers in Australia, these – as well as an account of associated hazards and risks – are explored throughout this thesis. In the next subsection, I examine the financial implications of the hazardous Australian beachscape for a culture of beach use and risk-taking. I also illustrate the contribution of governments in the support of beachgoer protection.
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2.4.2 The value and cost of protection
Mobilising large quantities of resources to monitor the Australian coastline has become essential, due to the high visitation rates experienced by Australia’s beaches (which is anywhere from fifty-five to eighty million visits each year, depending on the information source) (Anning, 2012). But as Brawley (2001, p75) puts it:
“For a land girt by sea, it is perhaps not surprising that Australia has the highest beach
visitation rates in the world. What is more surprising is that, despite such patronage,
Australia has the second best aquatic safety record in the world.”
In ninety-four years of operation, Surf Life Saving Australia (SLSA) claims to have saved over
410 000 lives on Australian beaches (Brawley, 2001). With 158 806 members, 44 323 active patrol volunteers and three-hundred and ten affiliated surf clubs, SLSA is one of Australia’s largest volunteer service organisations (Brawley, 2001; Surf Life Saving Australia, 2013b).
Blackwell (2003) states that the number of drownings on Australian beaches is the core problem that the national safe bathing organisations for beaches, SLSA, the SLSA operated
Australian Lifeguard Service and the Australian Professional Ocean Lifeguard Association, must actively address each day of service.
Blackwell (2003) calculated that Australians were willing to pay AUD $1.43 per person per visit to ensure the presence of a lifesaver and a lifeguard during the working week10. United States beach users were willing to pay AUD $2.61 (the implications of this are explored in Chapter 6).
The willingness to pay scenario (Blackwell, 2003) indicates that the number of lifesavers and lifeguards on most Australian beaches is less than optimal. Despite this, the economic value of the prevention work performed by the not-for-profit SLSA has been estimated at AUD $1.4 billion for 2003-4, including AUD $831 million in prevented drownings, AUD $568 million in
10 There was no statistical significant difference found between the public’s perceptions of value for lifesaver ($1.35) or lifeguard ($1.56) services (Blackwell, 2003). 51 prevented permanent incapacitation and AUD $0.5 million in prevented first aid treatment
(The Allen Consulting Group, 2005; O’Connell, 2006; Sherker et al., 2008). In a 2005 report to
SLSA, The Allen Consulting Group remarked that if surf lifesaving services were not available:
five percent of total rescues (485 people) would result in a drowning;
three percent of total rescues (313 people) would result in permanent
incapacitation;
fourteen percent of total rescues (1547 people) would result in a minor injury or
first aid treatment; and
seventy-eight percent of rescues would result in no injury or rescue.
SLSA claim that during 2009-10, volunteer lifesavers performed almost 10 000 rescues and took over 220 000 preventative actions (SLSA, 2013a). Paid lifeguards (in the form of Australian
Lifeguard Service employees) rescued 2 500 people and performed 430 000 preventative actions in the same year, indicating shared workload between volunteer lifesavers and paid lifeguards11. The Allen Consulting Group (2005) placed the value of a single volunteer lifesaver at around AUD $42 000 and the total value of SLSA at AUD $135 million, calculating that the benefits provided by SLSA would need to decrease by ninety-four percent to equal the costs. In a subsequent report on the value of surf life saving in Australia, PricewaterhouseCoopers
(PwC) (2011) estimated the total value of volunteer time by SLSA members to be worth AUD
$42.4 million and the estimated economic value of Surf Life Saving’s coastal drowning and injury prevention efforts to Australia was AUD $3.6 billion in 2009-10. Some of the benefits provided by lifesaving and lifeguard services are reported to be less tangible – as outlined by
The Allen Consulting Group (2005, p15). These include broad increases to social capital, such as:
11 The SLSA operated ALS provides around 70% of Australia’s professional lifeguard services (O’Connell, 2006). 52
Individual benefits – for example people who participate in social activities are
more likely to be healthier and more educated;
Socio-economic spillovers – for example, a lower crime rate and higher gross
domestic product for Australia at local and national levels;
Educational benefits – by spreading knowledge and innovation;
Promoting cooperative behaviour; and
Reducing costs – in particular day-to-day business costs (The Allen Consulting
Group, 2005).
The most applicable of these components to SLSA are the social impacts on individuals (such as improved health, social participation, education and personal satisfaction), and community/social spillovers (such as valuable social networks, decreased mortality, economic performance, decreased crime, safe natural environment and increased tourism) (The Allen
Consulting Group, 2005).
In tandem with providing value to beachgoers and to Australia in the form of the tangible and less tangible benefits listed above, protecting up to eighty million people a year has costs. For example, “Individuals [such as volunteer lifesavers] incur expenses in addition to forgoing the opportunity to earn income by volunteering” (PwC, 2011, p16). Despite providing a large input into the ‘safety’ economy of Australian beaches, the volunteer incurs costs in the form of travel expenses (AUD $4.6 million) as well as loss of paid work hours (PwC, 2011).
Other costs relate to government funding, such as education. In addition to the community support and charitable donations that water safety organisations receive in Australia12, in 2011 the governmental department of Regional Australia, Local Government, Arts and Sport provided AUD $37 million to SLSA, the Royal Life Saving Society, and AUSTSWIM, to promote water safety under the National Recreation Safety Program (Australian Government, 2013a).
12 Noone (2011) reported that the annual gross fundraising revenue for SLSA is AUD $23.8 million. 53
The high incidence of skin cancer in Australia has similarly warranted significant attention in the form of government funding and prevention initiatives. The majority of skin cancers in
Australia are caused by exposure to UV radiation in sunlight, and of most concern for skin cancer prevention initiatives are sunburn and tanning – two common occurrences in the
Australian beachscape (McDermott et al., 2003). One such initiative is the SunSmart program, established in 1988, the program has received around AUD $55 million in funding from the
Australian government (up to 2001) (Montague et al., 2001). Prior to SunSmart, the “Slip! Slop!
Slap!” anti skin cancer marketing campaign (1980-87) was funded through public donations of around AUD $50 000 a year (Montague et al., 2001). The SunSmart and Slip! Slop! Slap! campaigns were marketed in Australia at schools and through the media (on television, radio and print) to people with the aim of increasing skin cancer awareness particularly with regard to beachgoing. The achievements of these campaigns as detailed by Montague et al. (2001) include:
a decrease in the acceptability of sun tanning from sixty-one percent in 1988 to
thirty-five percent in 1998;
the compulsory adoption of sun protection policies for schools and outdoor
workers;
an increase in the availability of sun protection items such as sunscreen;
a clear reduction of risk of sunburn from 1988; and
clear evidence of a decrease in skin cancer incidence.
Over the past twenty years the Australian government has run awareness campaigns on the dangers of sunburn and tanning including the department of health and ageing contributing
AUD $18.5 million from 2005-9 in a national skin cancer awareness campaign (Australian
Government, 2013b). As well, the National Health and Medical Research Council received AUD
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$80 million in skin cancer and melanoma research funding over a ten-year period from 2003 to
2012.
The not-for-profit anti-cancer councils and agencies assume primary responsibility for sun safety in Australia (Garvin and Eyles, 2001). As Garvin and Eyles (2001) explain these institutions are funded through a federal granting scheme, private and corporate donations, and in some states through a progressive tax levy on tobacco products13.
“Australia has the most well-developed and successful Sun Safety programs in the world”
(Garvin and Eyles, 2001, p1178). “Internationally, Australia has served as a model of a national comprehensive skin cancer prevention program” (Cokkinides et al., 2006). However, as with drowning, incidence of skin cancer is of particular concern for international tourism. This is significant because of the aforementioned importance of tourism to the Australian economy.
The significance of Australia’s popularity as a beach holiday in conjunction with its hazardous beach environment is further explored throughout this thesis.
13 For example, the Anti-Cancer Council in Victoria receives the bulk of its funding from a three dollar a pack levy on cigarettes. The money is directly received by the Anti-Cancer Council and must be used for cancer research, prevention and health promotion campaigns. The money is not limited to the prevention of smoking, but is used for all cancer prevention messages, including sun safety and skin cancer (Garvin and Eyles, 2001). 55
2.5 Conclusion
The first section of this chapter provided a description of the physical characteristics that form the environment within which the beachscape hazards that are investigated in this thesis operate. In geological terms, the beach is a part of a natural system formed within the influence of pressure and time, facilitating the occurrence of a number of natural phenomena through sediment deposit to erosion events. The consequences for human involvement that are explored in this thesis are better understood and are better addressed by accounting for the operation of these natural phenomena as a context for human activity in the beachscape.
In the next section, I discussed the significance of the beach environment to Australian culture and society. The physical environment has a well-documented precedence of influencing human behaviour and human society, evident through scholarly fields such as place attachment, environmental psychology and aesthetics. The Australian beach is no exception. It provides the social and environmental backdrop for a contemporary Australian imaginary, which is made evident by looking through a socio-historical lens at modern Australian cultures.
The consequences of a society so heavily influenced by such a hazardous environment were highlighted in the final section of this chapter, which illustrated the social and economic impact of beach use. Going to the beach is part of the cultural fabric of living in or visiting
Australia. Yet there are dangers for the unwary presented by a high-energy natural system that is dynamic and somewhat unpredictable. Due to such dangers and because of its popularity, the beach in Australia is the focal point for substantial resource contributions by governments, volunteers and charitable donations, which all aim to retain public health and maintain/promote an (inter)national image of (safe) beachgoing.
Much of Australia’s vast coastline bears the imprint of human presence. This includes traces of the earliest inhabitants to the high-rise apartments and developments supporting
56 contemporary Australia’s dense coastal population and tourist industry (Short and Woodroffe,
2009). Short and Woodroffe (2009) explain that most Australians have seen little of, and know little about, the vast Australian coastline. Although most Australians have not visited the fringing coral beaches in the tropical north or witnessed the power of the southern ocean swells pounding the Nullarbor cliffs, they share an attachment to the Australian coast that originates from a culturally embedded appreciation of the beach – suffused with hazards and risk-taking. This appreciation endears the hazardous Australian beachscape to continually renewing flocks of beachgoers and contributes to the appeal of the beach to overseas visitors.
Having discussed the context within which the research questions were established, the next chapter outlines the research methods used to generate data, and answer these questions.
The following chapter describes the means, defined within the context offered here and in
Chapter 1, by which the thesis questions were addressed.
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3. Methods
3.1 Introduction
Chapter 1 provided a theoretical perspective of the research area for this thesis by introducing the research questions and a conceptual framework within which to conceive and design the methodological approach. Chapter 2 contextualised the thesis by describing the biophysical and socio-cultural spheres that situate the research. In this chapter, I outline how a set of methodological theories and processes were conceived and trialled to discern how to best address the research questions of this thesis. I will illustrate how as research progressed, the research methods were streamlined, resulting in the administration of a survey instrument in the form of a questionnaire, and the use of in-depth interviewing techniques. These methods were the preferred instruments as they satisfied the research aims for three main reasons:
1. They accommodated a cross-disciplinary study which involved the inclusion and
combination of the tools and techniques required for an investigation of beachgoer
behaviour in Australia;
2. They were consistent with capturing the research complexity, which is multifaceted
and multi-layered consisting of numerous inter-related levels of variables and factors
associated with beachscape risk-taking in Australia; and
3. They enabled the collection of data in an efficient and affordable way whilst
encompassing a diverse range of participants that could be considered satisfactory to
effectively draw conclusions about risky behaviours in the Australian beachscape.
This chapter details the evolution of methods within this thesis by providing a descriptive account of the methodological process. This includes the refinement of suitable survey tools, as well as justification for the use of those tools.
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From the beginning of the methodological process, it was intended that a survey/interview would be used as a significant source of data, as this is generally considered standard practice in geographical research into the attitudes, beliefs and experiences of a sample population (de
Vaus, 2002). To assess the desired methodological process, a pilot questionnaire was developed and distributed on Bondi and Avoca beaches during the 2010-11 Australian summer. The pilot consisted of more demographic questions than were eventually needed, but was also absent of subsequent important questions (as will be explained later on in this chapter). This initial questionnaire focused on discerning beachgoer understanding of rip currents as opposed to hazards in general14.
A combination of the success of the pilot questionnaire, another research project I participated in (Drozdzewski et al., 2012), and my previous research experience (Walton, 2009), helped determine how the final thesis questionnaire should be distributed. Survey distribution and data collection are discussed in Section 3.7.
The following steps summarise the research methods employed in this thesis, making explicit how aspects of the methodological process were derived, and how they were deemed appropriate for the purpose of this thesis.
Step 1: I designed and implemented a pilot questionnaire to (i) establish fitness for
purpose, establishing validity and reliability, (ii) demonstrate a capacity to
generate answers that can be interpreted and analysed for the purpose of the
thesis, and (iii) test that it accommodates, and is responsive to, differing levels
of knowledge, experience and language;
14 Rip currents were identified as a key research area due to their significant presence in the Australian beachscape in terms of level of hazard (as observed for example by Short, 2006 and Drozdzewski et al., 2012). 59
Step 2: I designed a semi-structured in-depth interview schedule to complement the
amended thesis questionnaire and capture the range and depth of case study
detail required to encompass all the facets of the conceptual framework.
Step 3: I devised and implemented a strategy to administer the amended
questionnaire including determining the sample and field sites (beaches,
caravan parks, backpacker hostels), whilst meeting the (UNSW) ethical
requirements and satisfying occupational health and safety protocols
identified in the risk assessment.
Step 4: I implemented the system, disseminating the survey instrument on Australian
beaches and identified data collection sites, while engaging the follow-up in-
depth interview of self-nominated participants.
Step 5: I constructed the data processing and analysis methods, which included the
use of computer software to collate and analyse data, and determined a
strategy for interpreting and reporting the results.
During the process of consolidating the research questions, I remained abreast of literatures that closely represented my area of research. Whilst studying the rip current literature – which included interpreting results from a rip current centred project with which I was involved
(Drozdzewski et al., 2012), one particular statistic stood out for me. The most common responses to being ‘caught’ in a rip current were panic and anxiety. Drozdzewski et al. (2012) noted that this response was particularly significant considering the sample population surveyed consisted of respondents knowledgeable of, and experienced with, rip currents.
Drozdzewski et al. (2012) observed that over thirty percent of well-informed beachgoers had an initial reaction of distress or fear to being ‘captured’ by a rip current.
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A ‘fight or flight’ response observed by the rip current victims (even experienced ones) surveyed by Drozdzewski et al. (2012) lead me to think about and investigate the psychical processes involved in risk-taking and everyday beach experiences, and how these processes have the ability to influence the re-actions of Australian beach users. A study of relevant literature directed me to psychology where the concepts and methods championed by Freud are characterised by ongoing debate and reassessment, yet united by a reliance on methods such as talking, listening and interpretation (Kingsbury, 2009a). Human geography employs a similar philosophy of talking, listening and interpreting, which means that concepts (and methods) of psychology pervade the “development of the critical and social theories that infuse so much of human geography’s methodologies” (Kingsbury, 2009a, p482). One such engagement in human geography was the attention to behavioural approaches in the social sciences during the 1970s. This eventually lead to the formation (and eventual break-up) of behavioural geography. Two of the leading exponents of behavioural geography were a geographer (Roger Downs) and a psychologist (David Stea) (Stea and Downs, 1970; Argent and
Walmsley, 2009).
The investigation of risky beachgoer behaviour that is presented in this thesis has approached psychology in four distinct ways. First, the behaviour of subjects in the beach environment was assessed in the context of the influence of landscape on the beachgoer’s psyche. This approach draws on theories from environment and landscape psychology to explain spatially/environment-specific behaviour, explored in Chapter 7. Second, beachscape encounters were examined using the psychological research method of interpretative phenomenological analysis, which investigates the impact of emotionally significant events in the beachgoing experience. This is further explained in Section 3.4.
My third and fourth engagements with psychology were more prevalent in this thesis. Third, the personality of beachgoers was considered in relation to how it influences risky beach
61 behaviours (as posited in the conceptual framework, Figure 1.5), drawing on behaviourism as a geographic reference point. Personality psychology provided an avenue to investigate the risk- taking tendencies of thesis participants through the use of psychometric personality measures.
These data generating methods are discussed in detail in Chapter 6. The fourth way psychology was approached in this thesis was through the incorporation of psychoanalytic geographies into the analysis of participant behaviours and discourse. Psychoanalysis can be used in human geography as an analytical tool that draws on psychoanalytic ideations to help understand a subject’s current attitudes, beliefs or behaviours. Narratives provided by beachgoers in interview were dissected and interpreted using psychoanalytic methods. These methods were applied to each of the subsequent theme chapters and the results are suffused throughout.
Psychoanalytic geography was used in this thesis in coalition with the more usual methods of narrative and discourse analysis employed in human geography (Wiles et al. 2005).
Within this chapter, I discuss the positions of psychoanalytic and behavioural methods in human geography and in the context of my research. In discussing the concepts and considerations of psychoanalytic geographies, I refer to case study examples in which psychoanalysis and psychoanalytic theory have informed geographic work. Studies and accounts by human geographers such as Liz Bondi, Paul Kingsbury, Heidi Nast, Steve Pile, David
Sibley and Mary Thomas, have pioneered how the use of psychoanalysis can consolidate methodological gaps in geographical research with interpretative and explanatory frameworks that try to make sense of complex socio-spatial processes (Pile, 1991, 1996, 2005; Sibley, 1995;
Nast, 2000; Callard, 2003; Thomas, 2007, 2010; Kingsbury, 2009a, 2009b; Bondi, 2014).
A section in this chapter has been dedicated to outline and discuss the use of psychoanalytic theory and analysis in human geography and in this thesis. In the next section, I outline the process of integrating methods from other fields in the discipline of human geography, which is followed by how this integration occurs in this thesis.
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3.2 Background to thesis methodology
To justify the multi-method, interdisciplinary research approaches undertaken in this thesis, it is prudent to illustrate where this kind of study has precedence in human geography.
Geography has experienced a number of ‘revolutions’ and amendments to its theories and methods and as such is “amazingly pluralistic in terms of its objectives, subject matter, theories, and methods” (Agnew and Duncan, 2011, p1). Such is the rate of evolution within human geography that the first four editions of ‘The Dictionary of Human Geography’ were produced within five to six years of each other with different content. Some approaches to contemporary human geography have come under fire in the past with criticism of a ‘jack of all trades, master of none’ divergence (Dear, 1988; Heffernan, 2009). However, for others, it is the freedom of scholarship enabled in human geographical research that is consistent with an evolving globalised landscape where rigidity would stifle a progressive discourse. Agnew and
Duncan (2011, p1) argue that:
“it is the very absence of a disciplinary orthodoxy and the openness to fresh thinking
that now makes the field so interesting to a broader audience. Indeed, the flow of
influence of the field on others has increased as it has developed its own heterodox
ideas about landscape , environment, space, and place rather than engaged in
imitating biology [or] economics ... by adopting their current orthodoxies”.
Human geography encompasses theses on a multitude of themes, which include people and places, social and cultural landscapes and enculturation as well as discourses on the silenced and marginalised voices within these environments. Policy makers enlist geographic research methods to study human environments, individual experiences, and social processes
(Winchester and Rofe, 2010). Alasuutari (2010, p145) explains that:
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“social science is seen as a means to depoliticize policy decisions by proving
scientifically what the best way is to advance the desired development, for instance the
greatest possible wealth and well-being of the population”.
To explore these themes, research methods in human geography vary in application and procedure but are grouped, broadly, as either quantitative or qualitative, or interpretative (in conceptual order). A late twentieth century shift in geographic methodology from quantitative to qualitative methods was initially met with an acceptance that a gulf exists between the two.
The perceived differences have been presented as a series of dualisms representing polar opposites of each other (Table 3.1).
Dualisms identified between qualitative and quantitative methods
Qualitative methods Quantitative methods
Qualitative data Quantitative data
Natural settings Experimental settings
Search for meaning Identification of behaviour
Rejection of natural science Adoption of natural science
Inductive approaches Deductive approaches
Identification of cultural patterns Pursuance of scientific laws
Idealist perspective Realist perspective
Table 3.1 The quantitative-qualitative divide (adapted from Winchester and Rofe 2010).
The dualistic view of methods often delineates quantitative as masculinised, focused, objective and value-free, whilst qualitative methods have been feminised as soft, subjective, anecdotal supplements, somehow inferior to ‘real’ science (Lyons and Coyle, 2007; Staller et al., 2008;
Winchester and Rofe, 2010). In contradiction to the separation of methods, Winchester and
Rofe (2010, p16) remark, “If one acknowledges the subjectivity and value-laden nature of all
64 research methods, then the apparent gap between the two groups of methods is reduced dramatically”. Far from being dismissed or ignored in the scientific community, qualitative methods, in conjunction with quantitative methods, have been used throughout the past century to enlighten difficult subjects, add depth to statistical generalisations and sing the otherwise mute melodies of feelings, emotions, attitudes and beliefs (Plano-Clark et al., 2008;
Winchester and Rofe, 2010). Using mixed method approaches in research informs modern geographic scholarship (Skole, 2004; Hall, 2008; Zolnik, 2009; Hay, 2010; Hesse-Biber and
Leavy, 2008, 2011). The incorporation of multiple methodological practices in research is echoed in Sui and DeLyser’s (2012, p112) directive that “If our research and our discipline are to survive and remain relevant, we must move beyond divisiveness”.
Within human geography, a field that embraces quantitative ‘trend finding’ and qualitative
‘subjectivity’, a divide between the two distinct approaches continues (Sui and DeLyser, 2012).
The prevailing divisiveness of methodologies, not just in geography but all (social) science, is akin to Snow’s (1993) ‘chasm’ between (natural) scientific and humanistic knowledge (Sui and
DeLyser, 2012). Snow (1993) identified that western science is continually split into two polar groups, first philosophy and science, and later natural and humanistic science (van Dijck,
2003). These divides are closing, with many disciplines expanding or combining in turn with the
“postmodern condition” of science, as van Dijck (2003, p180) states:
“Walls between academic communities ... have become increasingly porous and many
of us evidently enjoy the boundary crossings that were still unimaginable in 1959.
Rather than speaking of two communities, the global village of academic cultures
consists of many hybrid categories, challenging disciplinary distinctions and disputing
the very constitution of scientific knowledge”.
More and more researchers are employing multiple methods from different fields of knowledge in order to move towards providing solutions to previously insurmountable 65 challenges (Porter and Rafols, 2009; Teddlie and Tashakkori, 2009; Zolnick, 2009; Donovan,
2010; Simon and Graybill, 2010; Hesse-Biber and Leavy, 2008, 2011; Shaw et al., 2014). The burgeoning approaches of mixed method research are increasingly advertised and promoted in scientific papers and journals (Mertens, 2011). Examples include the International Journal of
Multiple Research Approaches, Qualitative Inquiry, Evaluation, and the Journal of Mixed
Methods Research – published quarterly since 2007. Hesse-Biber and Leavy (2008, p4) state that “as with all research methods, emergent methods are about methodological innovation for the purpose of enhancing knowledge building and advancing scholarly conversations”.
Hesse-Biber and Leavy (2008) believe social change and social movement are catalysts for innovating new methodological answers for an evolving sociality, which is uneven, sometimes turbulent. Figure 3.1 illustrates how turbulent environments act as catalysts for methodological evolution. This has led to theoretical perspectives like those offered by postmodernism, and large-scale analysis of trends in an increasingly globalised and digitised society. Remaining academically relevant in turbulent social environments requires the integration and synthesis of a range of different yet interrelated know-how that deal with the research issues traditional methods may not adequately address (Pile, 1991; Hesse-Biber and
Leavy, 2011). For example, Pillow (1997) presents an example of how evolving methodology can better inform a particular study (Hesse-Biber and Leavy 2011). Pillow (1997) developed a methodology in direct response to her research needs, which included an ethnographic study of pregnancy that required an account of her participants’ changing physicality. To satisfy this,
Pillow (1997) developed a body-centred methodology that allowed her to ask research questions that would otherwise be impossible to address, and to access knowledge that would otherwise remain unknown. Shaw et al. (2014) provide an account of how integrating previously ignored methods from fields outside human geography can inform research in ways that would be unachievable by adhering to standard research practices.
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Figure 3.1 The emergent methods process. (Source: Hesse-Biber and Leavy, 2008, p4)
Integrating methods from other fields into human geography can bolster research by filling methodological holes in the discipline (Shaw et al., 2014). In an article about the shortcomings of quantitative methods in human geography, Zolnik (2009) gives an example of how
67 multilevel, mixed method approaches to human behaviour, can address some of the criticisms of quantitative methods in human geography. Zolnik (2009, p347) states that the use of,
“multilevel models reflect(s) movement away from parsimony and toward realistic
complexity in models of human-environment interactions in human geography ... Such
dialogues on the efficaciousness of new approaches are critically important to the
intellectual vitality of a discipline with an identity that is driven more by an approach
than an object”.
Donovan et al. (2010) provide a critical assessment of interdisciplinary research, specifically between physical and human geographies. In a study that involved integrating the socio- cultural doctrines of human geography into the predominately physical domain of volcanology, the researchers enabled a more complete examination of the research topic. Donovan (2010) used multi-method research to examine the hazard-mitigation strategies of an Indonesian village locale situated at the base of Mt Merapi – an active volcano that had erupted a few years previous in 2006. Donovan (2010) cited the “incomplete nature of disaster studies”
(p177) to develop her own research termed ‘social volcanology’: a study of hazards, risk and culture in disaster reduction. Donovan (2010) observed, thanks to social surveying methods, that assumptions about why the people of Mt Merapi refused to evacuate during the 2006 eruption were inaccurate, and her findings helped to inform future disaster mitigation.
As noted at the beginning of this section, human geography is a discipline open to interdisciplinary projects. Geography is inherently interdisciplinary, leading “many geographers to range far from the field’s core and explore the peripheral realms where geographic perspectives and insights intersect with those from other fields” (Baerwald, 2010, p493). In addition, Harrison et al. (2004, p439) state that an interdisciplinary geography must “go beyond searching out the obvious areas of overlap and into the areas which are at the cutting edge of each part of the discipline”. 68
In keeping with the motive of conducting interdisciplinary collaborations, moving beyond the familiar disciplinary cores, this thesis encompasses a multi-method, interdisciplinary study of risk-taking in the distinct spatiality of the Australian beachscape. Contributions from other research fields, including hazard and risk science and tourism studies, greatly increase the coverage of this broad research area. The interpretation of results originating from the survey instruments used for this thesis is likewise performed within a multi-disciplinary frame. Data collection methods in multi-disciplinary geographic research often utilise a survey instrument for discerning trends, attitudes and beliefs (for example Miller, 2001; Shaw and Coles, 2004;
Brilly and Polic, 2005; Bird, 2009; Walton, 2009; Drozdzewski et al., 2012). This thesis similarly utilises the survey instrument, including in-depth interviewing, whilst drawing on theories and utilising methods that are non-standard but still present in human geography. An example of this involved analysing the influence of the beachscape’s presence in the psyche of Australian beachgoers, highlighting how childhood hazard encounters influence beachgoing behaviours.
This presented an opportunity to draw upon the advances in psychoanalytic geographies. To provide context for the primary research conducted for this assessment, I ponder a historical account of psychoanalysis and its integration into human geography, which is provided in the
Appendix of this thesis (Appendix IV).
Alongside investigating the psyche of beachgoers in Australia, a significant aspect of this thesis involves the observation of behaviour. Prior to engaging the psychoanalytic subject, human geographers explored the psyche in the context of behavioural patterns. The next section of this chapter provides an exploration of how behaviour has been approached in geography, and how these studies relate to this thesis.
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3.3 Behavioural geographies
Prior to constructivism and geography’s postmodernist embrace of fields such as psychoanalytic psychology, early human geography (prior to the 1970s) focused on discerning group decision-making. Aggregate patterns were observed rather than individual behaviours, and often assuming a standard or random spread of behaviours around an idealised postulate such as rational economic behaviour (Golledge, 2008; Argent and Walmsley, 2009). A school of thinking developed to understand the ways in which people understood or perceived their environments from findings that individuals often acted as satisficers instead of optimisers
(Gold, 2009)15. An explanation of these overt spatial behaviours were thought to be found in what became known as behavioural geography (Pile, 1996).
Behavioural geography sought to understand how decision making potentially influenced choice and spatial behaviour (Golledge, 2008). Golledge (2008, p242) details the developing approaches in geography at the time (1970s) which included:
(i) an examination of place and landscape influences on behaviour,
(ii) an examination of attitudes toward environmental hazard occurrence and
continuance of human behaviours and occupance patterns that were hard to
justify using existing knowledge, and
(iii) an examination of decision-making and choice behaviours that was at odds
with the simplifying assumptions of economic and spatially rational behaviour.
These new behavioural approaches in human geography were an outcome of the theoretical/quantitative revolution (Section 3.2). Behavioural geography was split between those who sought to generate theories about behaviour in geographic space based on empirical ‘scientific’ measurements, and the humanistic persuasion looking to empathy,
15 Satisficing behaviour occurs when the decision-maker or agent acts in ways that yield satisfactory outcomes rather than maximum or optimising outcomes (Gold, 2009). 70 imagination and experience to explain overt connections with behaviour (Gold, 2009). Because of the division, behavioural geography had no sound intellectual foundation and was instead characterised by rich variety (Argent and Walmsley, 2009). Argent and Walmsley (2009) argue that behavioural geography helped encourage geographers to consider the epistemological foundations of their discipline, where the interrelationships between individuals, groups, society and the environment are highlighted. Nowadays behavioural geography is interspersed amongst geography’s various disciplines, finding “expression in interdisciplinary outlets rather than in mainstream geography” (Argent and Walmsley, 2009, p192). Behavioural geography provides an approach or set of methodologies that can be utilised within the more defined disciplines of human geography, such as engaging the social context of decision-making
(Strauss, 2008), or charting changing rationalities (Jones et al., 2011). These methodologies are concerned with how people come to perceive the environment in which they operate, and how such knowledge influences their resultant decision-making and behaviour.
Behavioural research arose with the realisation that decision-makers base decisions on the environment, as they perceive it, recognising that “the material world is filtered through the cultural lens of perception” (Argent and Walmsley, 2009, p194). The argument of behavioural geographers was that a deeper understanding of people-environment interaction could be achieved by investigating the psychological processes, such as perception, through which individuals come to know their surrounding environment (Argent and Walmsley, 2009). This is known as behaviourism, a learning theory that employs a quantified approach to explain and predict behaviour (Duit and Treagust, 1998). Behaviourism provided the foundation for behavioural geography, which stressed the significance of predisposing factors (such as attitudes, perceptions and personality) and the ways in which people make decisions, which are generated and reflected by the society in which people live (Argent and Walmsley, 2009).
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Perception of environment, relationships with environment, reactions to different environments, are influenced by social and psychological factors. “Individuals’ and cultures’ perception of the environment and the difference between the reality of the physical world and the persons’ perception of it forms the main field of interest of behavioural geography” dubbed cognitive (or mental) maps (Sudas and Gokten, 2012, p42). This came from environmental psychology and the idea urban space can be ‘read’ (Gold, 2009). Cognitive maps were used in behavioural geography as tools to identify images spatially, and to map differences between physical and subjective environments (Suda and Goktem, 2012).
Cognitive mapping studies revealed that the home and home neighbourhood served as anchoring points in patterns of spatial knowledge and activity. The result was a new point of convergence for a humanistic stream of behavioural geography, which identifies attachment to place (Gold, 2009). Attachment to place encouraged the exploration of the emotional content of place. This included issues involving belonging, identity, security, and sense of self (Gold,
2009). Place, or landscape, was conceived as a repository of human endeavour comprising of the physical features of an area, record of human activity, and the meanings imposed by human consciousness (Gold, 2009). As Gold (2009, p289) states:
“Mindful of the debate over the role of instinct as opposed to learning in shaping
human cognition ... experience of landscape could be rooted in atavistic traits, where
the reason that people find themselves attached to some landscapes and avoid others
is taken to have innate roots”.
Atavistic attachment to landscapes was further expressed in research on territoriality – a constituent of place attachment that is reference to any form of behaviour displayed by individuals and groups seeking to establish, maintain, or defend specific bounded portions of space (Sibley, 1995; Gold, 2009). Space and dwelling in territoriality also serve to bolster and reinforce identity, perhaps as a function of being in the company of known and familiar bodies, 72 objects, symbols and landscapes “which personalize the living space and convey a sense of the continuity of the present with the past” (Gold, 2009, p290).
The experience of landscapes explored in behavioural geography employs similar concepts and techniques to the psychological field of environmental psychology. Both approach human- environment interactions by studying how an environment affects its inhabitants (Spencer and
Blades, 1986). Spencer and Blades (1986, p242) remark that, “both psychology and geography are subjects which straddle what elsewhere is perceived to be a divide between the social sciences and the natural sciences”. This observation positions behavioural geography as a forerunner to the integration of psychology (and psychoanalysis) into human geography.
Regardless of engaging interdisciplinary modes of operation, Argent and Walmsley (2009, p201) state that, “behavioural research needed to be complemented by other forms of geographical research for genuine and deep understanding to be achieved”. This is where behaviouralism, or the psychology of behaviour (psychodynamics), can help inform spatial geographies of behaviour and choice. Jones et al., (2011) showed this by exploring the contribution of behavioural geography to understand the rationalities of soft paternalism.
Jones et al. (2011) explain that it is important to learn from the mistakes of past behavioural geography’s positivist conceptualisation of human spatial behaviours whilst heeding the fact that human behaviour cannot be ‘read’ from particular environments in a deterministic manner. In addition, Pile (1996, p41) remarks, “the mind was always just out of reach, a ghostly presence which continued to haunt behavioural geography, but which could not be exorcised”. Pile (1996) explains that mental maps were presumed to be a distortion of the real environment but they are in fact ‘real’, suggesting that perhaps a psychoanalytic appreciation of the interstitial between space, subject and the world was not far away from human/behavioural geography. The next section considers how insights from the psychological field of psychoanalysis have informed human geographical research and this thesis.
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3.4 Psychoanalytic geographies
In this thesis, psychoanalytic ideas are used in the investigation of why people often behave riskily in the Australian beachscape. This section highlights the features and characteristics of psychoanalysis that are relevant to this thesis. This includes discussing where psychoanalytic theories and methods have been employed in human geography. Appendix IV presents a literature review of psychoanalytic theory and practice including how psychoanalysis has informed the geographic research process.
As stated in the introduction to this chapter, psychoanalysis is characterised by continual critique and change, and its multiple theoretic approaches contribute in different ways to varying geographical works.
“Psychoanalysis provides multiple theories of identity, but one constant framework is
that the processes of identification and subjectivity necessarily place the subject as an
alienated yet embodied, embedded, and continuing process of struggle with and within
the social world” (Thomas, 2007, p537).
The contribution of psychoanalysis to geography could succinctly be divided in two – one is in socio-cultural theory and analysis, and the other is methodological contribution (the latter is summarised in Appendix IV). A brief history of human geography’s engagement with psychoanalysis is provided in Figure 3.2 (below).
Regardless of the possibilities offered by engagements with the psychoanalytic subject, Bondi
(2005b, p502) does warn geographers that, “Freud’s idea of the unconscious radically destabilises the psychoanalyst’s own claims to expertise, and that “taking the unconscious seriously potentially upsets the qualitative methodologies and social theories that geographers employ to interpret and figure social and spatial practices” (Thomas, 2007, p539). This is because thinking through psychoanalytic processes in narratives would entail an
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The development of what has been called a ‘psychoanalytic turn’ in geography was initiated by fusing the individual and society and showing how through psychoanalytic discourse psycho-social experiences can be seen playing out in real world spaces (Burgess et al., 1988a, 1988b; Pile, 1991, 1996; Sibley, 1995, 2003; Callard, 2003; Philo and Parr, 2003). Initial hesitancies to the incorporation of psychoanalysis in geography resided in “an unwillingness to confront the unconscious” (Philo and Parr, 2003, p285). Geographers were fearful of what psychoanalysis would bring to the table, which was a shift towards
unconscious psychological influences on decision making as opposed to culturally driven informed decisions (Gold, 1980; Philo and Parr, 2003). A further issue facing the proposed interdisciplinary collaboration between psychoanalysis and geography was that the former seemed so far removed from the latter. Callard (2003, p297) writes, “caution in the face of such dangers is apposite with regard to the encounter between psychoanalysis and
geography: their founding principles, modes of operation and methodological commitments are very different from one another”. The transition or ‘turn’ was eventually seen as inevitable, first, as Gold (1980) remarked all behavioural geography teetered on the brink of ‘psychologism’, and “given the extent to which psychoanalysis attends to the spatialities of psychical phenomena, it should be hardly surprising that psychoanalytic theory has become a major theoretical approach in human geography” (Kingsbury, 2009b, p489). Second, the problem identified by Bondi (1999), geography’s failure to recognise
where ideas are coming from, echoes social anthropology. Third was the critical perspective that geographical work on the psyche is a testament to broadening the field by questioning conventional limits to scholarship (Callard, 2003; Philo and Parr, 2003; Sibley, 2003; Bondi, 2005a).
Figure 3.2 Human geography’s initial engagements with psychoanalysis
epistemological shift in social science, to expand that which can be counted as knowledge.
Moreover, the complicated psychic processes of the unconscious cannot be discerned in structured research encounters (Thomas, 2007).
Although described as particularly selective in its approach to psychoanalysis (Pile, 1996;
Callard, 2003), geography has engaged psychoanalytic theory in three important guises –
Freudian, Lacanian, and object relations theory – to enable the theorisation of space, “showing how spaces of cultural difference teem with recurrent forces of pain, destruction, and aggressivity borne out of psychical conflicts and deficiencies” (Kingsbury, 2004, p110). Pile
(1996) offered strategies to understand subjectivity and spatialities of the body in urban
75 contexts by drawing on Freudian theories. For example, Pile (1996) suggests that civilization, like the mind, is confounded by conflicting tensions between love and frustration, or the sexual versus the destructive drives, respectively. Nast’s (2000) work on the unconscious and how it informs sociospatial formations was likewise informed by classic Freudianism, as was Wilton’s
(1998) examination of the organisation of social space as a result of the internalisation of social norms as a condition of subjective becoming. Nast (2000) explored how racism has roots in unconscious configurations of a white mother-son-father oedipal triad, where the repressed bestial is typically black. Nast (2000) provides an example of how psychoanalysis can be successfully incorporated into a geographical framework. Adherence to the psyche was arguably a key motive for Nast’s (2000) work on segregated spaces of racism and fear in the
US. Nast (2000) utilised the explanatory power of psychoanalysis to account for the seemingly irrational behaviour of past and contemporary colonial racism, formulating arguments that were otherwise inexplicable to an expressly social study. In Real Cities (2005), Pile used
Freudian and Marxian theory to show how emotions and fantasy do ideological work in the city and in city life (likewise seen in Healy, 2011). The study of the city, and its infrastructures, are interpreted by Pile (2005) as in need of an engagement with the dreams and nightmares of city life, to take account of the ‘phantasmic psychodrama’ – “the hopes and wishes contained within the phantasmagorias of city life: with their emotional dynamism, their dreams and inspirations, their distractions and entertainments, their tears and laughter” – that is ordinarily experienced (Pile, 2005, p180).
Bondi (2009) explains that one of the most influential lines of differentiation within psychoanalytic tradition lies between theorists who believe psychic life to be primarily generated through the instinctual libido and death drives towards pleasure, death and annihilation (Lacan), and those theorists who attach primary importance to psychic life generated by the condition of existence to relate to others. The latter, developed through the
76 psychoanalytic theorems of Klein and Winnicott (among others) involving relational approaches to psychoanalysis, form the psychoanalytic theory of object relations. Object relations theory (following Freud’s notions of an ‘object’ and ‘object relation’) emphasises how the psyche’s inter-active/subjective world is created by and through relationships and objects
(Kingsbury, 2009b). Sibley (1995) bought object relations theory to geography and asserted the delimitation of communities and social groups as being akin to the difficulty of constituting
‘self’ and ‘other’. Sibley (1995, introduction) provides a study of social exclusion (and inclusion) showing how “processes of boundary erection by groups in society who consider themselves to be normal or mainstream [enforce] credentials required to gain entry to the dominant groups in society”. Drawing on the psychoanalytic works of Kristeva in understanding community reactions to difference, Wilton (1998), like Sibley (1995), illustrates that:
“transgressions at the scale of a neighbourhood or nation might be understood not just
as a threat to social order, but as a challenge to collective and individual identities felt
at the level of bodily egos” (Wilton, 1998, p178).
Kingsbury (2009b) explains that Wilton’s (1998) work demonstrates the explanatory power of psychoanalytic theory to show why people experience anxiety, then social difference, and how they transfuse the reproduction of social and spatial divisions. These themes are explored in
Chapters 4 and 7 by analysing the social and spatial divisions that govern (risky) beach behaviours among research participants.
Why psychoanalytic considerations fit within the geographic research encounter and analysis model could be attributed to the fact that psychoanalytic ideas and jargon pervade much of the language we use, filtering through social, cultural, academic and literal theories that engage with or are informed by psychoanalytic thinking (Bondi, 1999). “Psychoanalysis sensitizes the researcher to the desires, fantasies, identifications, and resistances that pervade the research process” (Healy, 2010). Researchers, indeed human beings in general are sense- 77 making creatures, constantly making sense of events, emotions and encounters. Access to these experiences is “dependent on what participants tell us about that experience, and that the researcher then needs to interpret that account in order to understand their experience”
(Smith et al., 2009).
Considering the social constructions of beachscape experiences within the mind of the individual, I approached a method outside of behavioural or psychoanalytic geography, yet relevant to both. Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis (IPA) is a technique employed in psychological research. It is a qualitative technique committed to the examination of how people make sense of their major life experiences (Smith et al., 2009). In this regard, it is a psychoanalytic geography. With origins in phenomenology16, hermeneutics17 and idiography18,
IPA’s concern with detailed examinations of human lived experiences, where bodily experiences are expressed in their own terms, has many similarities to an interpretative geography observing the relevance and cogency of the theoretical reasoning behind what is
(objectively, subjectively) presented (Pile, 1991; Smith et al., 2009). The notion that we perceive the world through our bodies as embodied subjects has previously been explored in geography (Pile, 1996; Longhurst, 1997; Casey, 2001). Anderson (2013a) examined the sport of surfing through (the IPA-like) relational sensibility – the emotion felt within a person, produced through an embodied experience. Smith et al. (2009, p1) offer a (somewhat appropriate for this thesis) example of an IPA study of the embodied subject:
“Imagine that you are about to take a swim in the sea on a hot summer day. You may
not be aware of the warmth of the sun on your back, until you begin to anticipate your
first bracing contact with the cold water. Momentarily then, you are made aware of
16 A philosophical approach to the study of experience, phenomenologists share an interest in thinking about what the experience of being human is like. 17 Hermeneutics is the theory of interpretation concerned with the methods and purpose of interpretation itself including attempts to uncover the intentions or original meanings of an author. 18 Idiography is an argument for a focus on the particular and the detailed, a nuanced analysis of particular instances. 78
the flow of your experience; for most of the time, however, you are simply immersed in
it, rather than explicitly aware of it. Now imagine that the event has further
significance for you: you have been a keen swimmer since childhood, but have not
swum on a public beach for some years. In any [case], the swim is marked for you as an
experience, something important which is happening to you”.
An IPA study would commonly be concerned with the unit of this entire experience, where the experience has larger significance in the person’s life, in this case, the anticipation of the swim signified as a return to childhood pleasures somehow previously restricted (Smith et al., 2009).
Human geography is likewise concerned with units of experience(s), distinctly involving space and bodies, culture and communities, processes that contribute to the complete swimming experience, immersed within the skeins of social discourse. Subjectivity however is not linear.
Later events can cause earlier experiences to be re-experienced and their meaning to be radically altered. Later experiences are subsequently modified showing how experiences, fantasies and realities are highly spatialised (Campbell and Pile, 2011). How the meaning of an experience can be altered illustrates the link between cognition and behaviour and the
‘downstream’ and ‘upstream’ effects of decisions. This is a major theoretical thread in the field of behavioural geography (Argent and Walmsley, 2009).
The following section reports a consideration of how behavioural and psychoanalytic geographies contribute to this thesis. This includes discussing the implications of synergising psychoanalytic geography, behavioural analysis and intrapersonal assessment of the embodied subject into a human geography thesis on spatially contextualised risk-taking.
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3.5 Using behavioural geography, psychoanalysis and psychology to research risky behaviour in the Australian beach landscape
“In almost any choice people make there is a component that wishes life to be
somehow better” (Pile, 2010a, p9).
How can the performing of risky behaviours be explained psychoanalytically? In his early works
(often refracted later in Lacanian theory), Freud spoke of unconscious drives as being at odds with social norms and expectations, and therefore repressed within human sociality (Bondi,
2005a). Freud linked this to desires to relate to others, “leading to [a] shift in focus away from the unconscious biologically-driven drives, towards concern with intra-psychic and interpersonal relationships” (Bondi, 2005a, p439). For Freud (1984 [1915]; 1961 [1923]), the unconscious id (which is the part of the mind that contains a person’s basic, instinctual drives) is therefore subdued in order to suit social orthodoxy. The implication is the possibility that an action can be performed in opposition to an unconscious biological drive, such as danger avoidance in the form of a risky situation or a hazard encounter, if the outcome is socially beneficial to the performer. Bondi (2014, p46) argues that, “psychoanalytic ideas can be used to support researchers to make sense of at least some unconscious communications that occur in ordinary ways in and around research interviews”. For example, Bondi (2014) used psychoanalytic ideas to understand how other people feel.
Human geography is adept at recognising that the conscious mind is susceptible to external cues in producing emotions where affects emerge in encounters between bodies (not necessarily human bodies, but objects in the physical world, such as a surf hazard) (Pile,
2010a). This occurs in geographical research on experiences and the feelings that arise about people and places. The connections and disconnections people feel for one another and for places, landscapes and objects in landscapes are felt individually yet this ‘emotional space’ is built through viewed/shared emotions and experiences (Bondi, 2005a; Pile, 2010a). Rangell 80
(2002, p1110) states that the “ubiquitous intrapsychic process, which scans for anxiety and danger, is equally alert to recognising safety and the possibility of nonconflictual actions, affects, and other external and internal psychic products”. In this context, psychoanalysis can be used as a tool for identifying characteristics synonymous with the improvement of self. This is observed in this thesis through recognition of the unconscious attempts people make to achieve psychic harmony in the form of social adherence and the recapturing of childhood pleasures. For example, if risky behaviour is recognised as a mode of social acceptability or normality, then the unconscious will be more inclined to permit the performance of risk- taking, which will result in positive emotions for the individual. A geographical psychoanalysis of research participants (as posited by Bondi, 2014) may reveal evidence of behavioural reflexes that include risky behaviours that occur specifically in an Australian beach context.
In this thesis, the socially driven behaviours of individuals serve as a theoretical anchor for informing behavioural geography’s subfields of place attachment and territoriality (further explored in Chapter 4). Psychoanalysis considers the mental history of data such as the drive to behave in a seemingly safety-adverse manner. It investigates behaviour that, when explained within psychoanalytic models, speaks of the need to relate to others and satisfy social goals.
Psychoanalytic theory also fundamentally informs the behavioural tenets of place attachment and territoriality through theories of the uncanny19, whereby something that is unsettling at the same time that it implies the reappearance of something that is familiar but has been concealed (Sibley, 1995 and Wilton, 1998). For example, at the beach, the revealing swimwear of some beachgoers reminds the subject of their repressed sexual identity (Chapter 7).
As explained in Section 3.3, behaviour has been approached in human geography, but without acknowledging the psychoanalytic influences that underline behaviours, these approaches
19 The uncanny reminds us of our own id, our repressed impulses, and individuals we project our repressed impulses onto become an uncanny threat, such as scapegoats that are blamed for perceived disharmonies (Wilton, 1998). 81 failed to explain why specific behavioural decisions were made. Behavioural geographers’ initial investigations during the 60s, 70s and 80s were more process-driven rather than necessarily concerned with behaviour itself (Kitchin et al., 1997). The psychology overlap in behavioural geography is apparent when you consider that geographers tend to examine features in space to inform decision-making, where as psychologists generally seek to understand the decision-making process itself, which is similar to how behavioural geographers model spatial patterns (Kitchin et al., 1997). Where behavioural insights can assist in the investigation of beachscape risk-taking are in accounts of the decision-making process, sitting between the unconscious drive to relate and be social, and a conscious (risky) action/behaviour.
The research undertaken for this thesis involves a study of risky behaviour that synergises the determining mechanisms of psychoanalytic insight, such as the drive to be sociable and the recognition of threats to social orthodoxy (through theories of the uncanny), with the attitude, belief and personality factors that influence the decision-making process. The psychodynamic mechanisms and influences that contribute to risky behaviour explored in this thesis are framed within the specific space of the Australian beach landscape. The possibility that the physical landscape of the beach space can influence beachgoer behaviour is investigated and informed by psychological insights that are reported later in this thesis in Chapter 7.
To investigate spatial behaviour, specifically, decision-making in the Australian beachscape, I identified three processual steps in the mind of the embodied beachgoer (Table 3.2). I devised the steps outlined in Table 3.2 to assist in framing the unconscious by summarising the process of individual decision-making that occurs leading up to a behavioural action at the beach.
Whereas Table 3.2 presents a deconstructed model to help understand and analyse beach decisions, the conceptual framework for this thesis (described in Chapter 1, Section 1.6) explicates where the decision-making process is influenced with regard to risk-taking.
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Steps 1 and 2 of the decision-making process occur on a sub/unconscious level and permeate the entire process. Step 1 influences decision-making unconsciously. It is informed by psychoanalytic insights that have been discussed so far in this chapter along with the psychology of environmental interaction (discussed in Chapter 7). Step 2 represents the cultural reflexes that are thought to be innate in the decision-making process of some beachgoers (as described in Chapter 1, Section 1.6). Step 3 is reflective of the first three levels of the conceptual framework in Chapter 1, Section 1.6 (beach use patterns, intrapersonal factors and socio-cultural influences, Figure 1.5).
The three steps of the decision-making process
Step Informed by: 1. The psychic history of the decision as Psychoanalytic and psychological theorems influenced by unconscious drives and
intrapsychic processes;
2. The pre-reflexive (innate) proclivities Socio-historical and cultural constructs in decision-making such as intuition
and imitation; and
3. The psycho-dynamic/social factors Attitude, belief and personality factors that influence individual behaviour.
Table 3.2 The three steps of the decision-making process and how they are informed in this research.
As expressed in the introduction to this chapter, personality psychology (being distinct from psychoanalysis and other psychological fields) was utilised during the investigation of risk- taking behaviours. The personality factors of Step 3 that influence decision-making are assessed in this thesis with a specifically designed psychometric test. These types of tests are common to research in the field of personality psychology, but unique to a human geography thesis investigating behaviour in the context of culture and landscape. Personality psychology is distinct from psychoanalytic and behavioural geography, however, is interconnected via its influence on individual behaviour and decision-making. A psychometric measure of personality 83 was included in the research of this thesis as a data generating method. This involved incorporating selected personality tests into the common human geography research method of surveying. Psychoanalysis helps to frame the use of psychometric testing by presenting a theoretic anchor for psyche-based influences on behaviour. I discuss the relevance and use of personality psychology in this thesis further in Chapter 6. This includes a description of the structuring, format and analysis of personality tests, including significance testing of personality assessment results (Chapter 6, Section 6.2 and Appendix III).
As mentioned earlier in this section, many of the decisions people make (at the beach) seem averse to any perceived benefit or gain. Investigating the processes involved in making decisions is addressed in this thesis using an in-depth interview. In-depth interviews in human geography attempt to understand the social, cultural, political and economic attitudes and beliefs that contribute to individual behaviour (Minichiello et al., 2008). The purpose of the interview is to explore and understand actions within a specific setting (the Australian beachscape), to examine human and environmental relationships and discover why people feel or act in the ways they do (McDowell, 2010). The narrative required for this amount of information is beyond the scope of a survey questionnaire or a structured interview, both incipient of the required diegesis. This is because language and narrative are not the only determinants of the interviewee’s ‘story’. The significance of the personal nature of the interaction and the consequent impact of embodied social characteristics including clothes, gender, bodies, location and setting, are central to the affects of language and interpretation
(Pile, 1991,2010a; McDowell, 2010). The following section describes the development of the survey tools used in this research to capture the data required for interpretative research in the form of geographical psychoanalysis (Bondi, 2014). This includes a detailed outline of the questionnaire and in-depth interview questions created to address and operationalise the thesis questions presented in Chapter 1, Section 1.5.
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3.6 Development of the survey questionnaire and in-depth interview
This section provides a brief introduction as to why a questionnaire and in-depth interview were the chosen modes of data gathering for this thesis. This is followed by a report on the significance of piloting a survey questionnaire prior to undertaking a final round of surveys.
Next, I detail and justify the questions that were included in the final versions of the questionnaire and interview.
As explained in Section 3.1, a social survey20 was decidedly the best methodological fit for this research for generating the required data. A social survey is a standardised set of questions or themes, administered to a targeted section of the population to elicit the attitudes, beliefs, knowledge or experience of respondents for the purpose of a defined study (de Vaus, 2002;
Secor, 2010). Secor (2010, p196) states that surveying is a good research option for two reasons: one, it represents, in summary form, basic characteristics of research subjects; and two, it presents findings that can be statistically valid and accurate for a population. Secor
(2010) also states that a survey questionnaire provides a good supplement for interview-based research, such as this thesis. The key advantage of social surveys (such as questionnaires and interviews) arises from their ability to obtain broad coverage of populations with a much smaller representative sample (Hoggart et al., 2002).
Some criticisms of social surveys question the validity of data obtained (Briggs, 1986). Such critiques are concerned with issues such as assessing how the wording of a question might solicit a specific response, or the impact of researcher characteristics on respondent answers
(Hoggart et al., 2002). For Briggs (1986 p13), this applies to all research that does not encompass long-term interaction with the respondents. Briggs (1986) insists the design,
20 Use of the word ‘survey’ (as in ‘survey research’, ‘social survey’ or ‘survey data’) is allocated to encompass all survey methods including interviewing and questionnaires in accordance with de Vaus (2002, p3). However, to avoid confusion, reference to either the questionnaire or in-depth interview will be allocated as is. 85 implementation and analysis of surveys must include research awareness of the communicative ‘competence’ of an informant, such as noting the interactional influence of the interviewer or the possibility of question misinterpretation. These issues of subjectivity and intersubjectivity (Winchester and Rofe, 2010), by researcher and researched, can undermine the validity of surveys. Hoggart et al. (2002 p175) notes that surveys are better suited to uncomplicated ‘factual’ data gathering where chances of uneven reactions by respondents should be lessened. However, the human mind is inherently subjective and efforts to skirt this fact by ignoring the psychosocial forces in play during an interview can only be met with failure
(Pile, 1991).
3.6.1 Questionnaires
A survey is the process of assessing a sample or population and a questionnaire is one of the instruments through which it is achieved. Questionnaires are one of the most common methods of collecting survey data (McGuirk and O’Neill, 2010). Questionnaire design involves thinking about the research problem (de Vaus, 2002; Hoggart et al., 2002; McGuirk and O’Neill,
2010), and reflect theoretical thinking with an understanding of data analysis. It is important with this type of data gathering to ask the ‘right’ questions (de Vaus, 2002; McGuirk & O’Neill
2010). de Vaus (2002 p97) lists common mistakes with regard to question asking that can threaten validity such as double-barrelled, leading and ambiguous questions.
When designing the format of a questionnaire, de Vaus (2002 p95) suggests four distinct types of question content:
1. Attributes. Questions that establish respondents’ characteristics such as age or income
bracket, Australian resident or visitor;
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2. Behaviour. These questions aim to uncover what the respondent does, for example,
recreation habits, such as the purpose of beach use;
3. Attitudes. Questions about attitude are designed to find out what people think is
desirable or undesirable, for example, judgement on council’s role in cleaning the
beaches;
4. Beliefs. Belief questions aim to establish what respondents believe to be true or false,
such as, belief about the most effective way to escape a rip current whilst swimming.
The process of developing and validating the thesis questionnaire is described in the following two sections. The following steps summarise this process:
Development and execution of a pilot questionnaire that addressed beachgoer
knowledge and perception of coastal hazards with special attention to rip currents;
Assessment of pilot success including appropriateness of questions and questionnaire
design to the evolving research aims and conceptual framework;
Redevelopment of the final survey tool and surveying process including a review of the
survey tool; and
Administration of the completed questionnaire to beach users in Australia.
The first step towards addressing the research questions was the development of a pilot questionnaire. This is outlined in the next subsection.
3.6.1.1 Development of a pilot study of beachgoers
The pilot questionnaire for this thesis was developed in conjunction with a separate research project that was similarly interested in the hazard perceptions and behaviours of Australian beachgoers (Drozdzewski et al., 2012). In their project, Drozdzewski et al. (2012) aimed to record the testimonies of rip current survivors about their experiences and responses to being
‘caught’ in a rip current. My contribution to this project as a research associate was to
87 consolidate the survey tool, distribute the questionnaire, and collate and assist interpretation of the collected data. Recruitment of beachgoers dictated a summer collection due to the increased frequency of beach visitation during the summer months. The pilot for my thesis was distributed during this same summer period to beachgoers who did not qualify for the rip current project – in other words, beachgoers who had never been ‘caught’ in a rip current.
Although limiting the sample to having no rip current survivors, this procedure of recruitment enabled the more efficient use of my time on the beach, and was regarded as acceptable for a pilot study.
Pilot studies provide opportunities to test and refine data collection and processing procedures as well as establish the appropriateness of the survey content, its validity and reliability (Teijlingen and Hundley, 2001; Cloke et al., 2004). In addition, pilot studies allow for the removal of extraneous questions, which are found not to construct data useful for the overall research (Cloke et al., 2004). Previous experience with surveying beachgoers (Walton,
2009) and direction from relevant literature (Hoggart, 2002; Turbow et al., 2004), dictated the necessity for use of a survey tool that permitted satisfactory coverage of the research topic, whilst minimising incompletion and non-response. Therefore, I constructed a pilot questionnaire that could be completed within 10-12 minutes. This allowed for a higher response rate within the space of a single beach visit (necessary due to restrictions outlined in the risk assessment about the amount of time allowed spent in the sun, Appendix I).
The four page pilot questionnaire for this thesis consisted of two parts. Part A contained demographic based questions including age, gender, country of birth and residence, educational qualification, as well as questions regarding beach use and visitation. Part B predominately consisted of enquiries about beachgoer rip current knowledge and experience, such as being able to spot a rip current as well as beliefs about the best method to escape a rip. Most questions were made up of pre-selected answers with participants choosing the
88 response that (best) represented their own circumstance by ticking the corresponding box, for example, ’yes’ or ‘no’ for ‘Can you identify a rip current?’. According to Cloke et al. (2004, p135), when constructing a questionnaire, “it is often tempting to deploy a large number of open questions without having thought through how the resultant chunks of texts can be used effectively”. Although open questions can bear a lot of information, the intensive data inquiry is often not worth it. In addition, respondents may experience difficulties putting their ideas in writing (de Vaus, 2002). For my pilot questionnaire, open-ended questions were employed only occasionally, where a pre-selected option was not plausible or inappropriate, for instance when asking participants to describe something, such as a rip current. In addition to using open and closed questions, likert scales were provided when asking participants to rate something on opinion. The likert scale presents a range of responses anchored by two extreme opposing positions (McLafferty, 2010). In the pilot study a one to five ranking was used, for example, when asking participants to rate their swimming ability where five represents ‘highly competent’ and one represents ‘unable to swim’. McLafferty (2010) comments that it is best to use an odd number of responses on a likert scale so respondents are able to give a neutral opinion when they do not have a strong response to offer on a topic. The pilot also included a visual question in which the participant was asked to locate the presence of a rip current from the image of an Australian surf zone. Visual questions can help combat question boredom as well as supply data prudent to the pilot (de Vaus, 2002). Combining question types in a survey questionnaire also combats boredom (de Vaus, 2002; Cloke et al., 2004).
A factor to consider when designing a survey instrument is that of question sequencing. The order in which people read the questions could influence their answers (de Vaus, 2002). Bad question sequencing can likewise result from outside influence or the opinions of other people
(de Vaus, 2002). Any time a respondent is left alone with the survey instrument, there is the possibility of answers being externally influenced, and this includes leaving a questionnaire
89 with an individual who is within a group (de Vaus, 2002). Therefore, research participants were requested to fill-out questionnaires individually.
Thirty-two pilot questionnaires were completed by beachgoers on two separate days of data collection. The two sites visited to test the pilot in early 2011 were Avoca Beach on the New
South Wales Central Coast and Sydney’s Bondi Beach, both of which receive high patronage on sunny summer days enabling ample recruitment. The two sites (Avoca and Bondi) also represent different cross-sections of beachgoers. Participants from Avoca were predominately
Australian born and resided locally. Bondi participants presented a larger mix of nationalities, localities and levels of knowledge and experience. The recruitment success rate for the pilot was about eighty percent with six beachgoers preferring not to participate (all from Bondi).
The completion rate for the thirty-two who did participate was one-hundred percent.
The pilot study enabled me to identify shortcomings in the draft survey and in the survey process. Shortcomings included ambiguities in the instructions, clarity in the wording of questions and phrases, as well as omissions and incipient information. Development of the thesis questions and construction of a conceptual framework rendered much of the pilot content extraneous, such as the volume of rip current related enquiry, much of which was investigated by Drozdzewski et al. (2012). Further, the pilot contained a comparative (to its overall size and the size of the final questionnaire) large number of demographic questions which could, in a larger study, lead to respondent boredom and incompletion (Cloke et al.,
2004). The inclusion of visual questions in the pilot meant the questionnaire needed to be completed in the presence of a researcher in order to display blown-up images for participants to analyse. Clarity of images in the visual question was important so high-resolution images were printed. This process would have been extremely expensive and inefficient if done for each individual form of the pilot questionnaire. Showing each individual participant the images made recruitment, and questionnaire completion, a much slower process. However, being
90 present to administer the survey meant that it took the form of a structured interview, rather than a questionnaire, which helps to explain the high completion rate (McGuirk and O’Neill,
2010).
Another issue with the pilot was the presence of ‘Undertow’ and ‘Collapsing sandbar’ in the hazard-rating question. These hazards do not exist and this question would therefore be considered a leading question. The presence of these misleading phrases in an ‘official’ university survey might have misled some participants to thinking that ‘Undertow’ and
‘Collapsing sandbars’ exist (Bradburn et al., 2004). The pilot results confirmed this with
‘Undertow’ ignored only twice out of thirty-two responses, receiving an average danger rating of 3.8 out of 5, (‘Rip currents’ averaged 3.9 out of 5). The ‘Collapsing sandbar’ option was ignored only once and had an average score of 3.2. The possibly misleading options were subsequently omitted from the final questionnaire.
3.6.1.2 Designing the questionnaire
The conceptual framework outlined in Chapter 1, Section 1.6 outlines facets of the individual that influence beach behaviour. The survey process was designed to value the conceptual framework by addressing each facet within the questionnaire-interview combination. This subsection describes the design of the questionnaire part of the methods process. The following pages outline the structure of the questionnaire and provide insight into predicted outcomes of each individual question. Considering the limitations of a questionnaire, interpretations can sometimes be only part of the story (Hoggart et al., 2002; McGuirk and
O’Neill, 2010), ”Nonetheless, [questionnaires] can help us begin the explanation in that they are useful for identifying regularities and differences and highlighting incidents and trends”
(McGuirk and O’Neill, 2010).
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The final version of the questionnaire designed for this thesis consisted of six pages of questions and one cover page (these can be viewed in Appendix II). On the cover was a short explanation of the research, the UNSW logo, as well as an image and some rhetorical questions about the beach to entice recruitment and help maximise response rate (Wilkinson and
Birmingham, 2003). The questionnaire was partitioned in two parts for the purposes of providing a user-friendly layout for participants (McGuirk and O’Neill, 2010). These were described to participants as ‘Part A - questions about your general likes and dislikes’ and ‘Part
B - questions about your beach usage’. For ease of subsequent data collation and analysis, and for ease of reporting, the questionnaire was divided into three parts: demographics, personality and socio-cultural (but were not labelled on actual questionnaire). These three parts were demarcated in the questionnaire by having separate numbering. Demographics were numbered 1 to 5, personality questions were numbered 1 to 8 and 1 to 3121, and the socio-cultural questions were numbered 1 to 15. To retain the good completion and recruitment rates of the pilot study, the final questionnaire was designed with a (maximum) fifteen-minute completion time in mind, consistent with good surveying practice (de Vaus,
2002; Bradburn et al., 2004; McGuirk and O’Neill, 2010; McLafferty, 2010).
The first measurable facets targeted in the questionnaire were the demographic variables of age, gender, country of birth and residence including postcode (if Australian resident) (these facets are illustrated on the lower level of the conceptual framework in Figure 1.5).
Demographics, or attributes, are used to classify participants and group them statistically as well as providing background relevant to the later behaviour, attitude and belief questions (de
Vaus, 2002). Having participants fill-in the ‘easy’ background information first provided a non- threatening start to the survey. It also helped secure responses to the important classifying demographic questions, without which there is no context for subsequent questions.
21 The separate numbering in the personality part of the questionnaire is explained in Chapter 6. 92
The socio-cultural part of the questionnaire was introduced to participants with the title,
‘These last set of questions are about your time at the beach’. Questions 1 and 2 were designed to generate descriptive data on the nature of respondent beach use. This is defined within the conceptual framework as frequency and type of use (Figure 1.5). Question 1 captured frequency of beach use in summer through participant indication of which option best represented their situation (‘Every day’, ‘3-6 times a week’, ‘1-2 times a week’, ‘1-2 times a month’, ‘Rarely’ and, ‘Never’).
For question 2, participants were asked to tick one box out of eight options to indicate their main beach activity/reason for going to the beach. Question 2 asked participants, ‘What reason best describes why you go to the beach?’ Establishing motivation for using the beachscape, and the frequency with which it is used, helps to build understandings about the importance of the beach to the individual. The options for question 2 were selected through my own experience in the beachscape, representing what I believe to be the eight most common reasons for beachgoing in Australia. These included ‘To relax’, ‘For adventure / do something different’, ‘To swim’, ‘To train / workout’, ‘To be with friends / hang out’, ‘To sunbake’, ‘To surf’, and ‘Not sure, just do’. Previous studies have incorporated beach use questions before, with frequency a commonly measured behavioural trait for summer studies
(McConnell, 1977; Drozdzewski et al., 2012), as well as year-round studies (Pendleton et al.,
2001; Morgan et al., 2009b; Maguire et al., 2011). Why people go to the beach has been investigated (to a lesser extent than frequency) in survey questionnaires. One example attempted to research the motivations involved in sun-tanning (Warthan et al., 2005).
Questions 3 and 4 investigated the socio-cultural facets of education/schooling, and previous experience (both of which contribute to the facet ‘Knowledge’ in the conceptual framework,
Figure 1.5). Questions 3 and 4 asked participants to rate pool and beach/ocean swimming ability (respectively). Participants could select from five likert scaled options ranging from
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‘Unable to swim’ to ‘Highly competent swimmer’. This type of question is common in drowning and risk studies (Moran, 2006; McCool et al., 2009; Morgan et al., 2009b; Drozdzewski et al.,
2012). Questions 3 and 4 are judgement and perception based as well as an indication of
‘knowledge’. Perception is equally important as experience or education in establishing the context of a participant’s answer in risk-taking terms (Sjöberg, 2000).
The last question on the page (Question 5), intentionally placed as such, was an open-ended response question asking ‘Is there anything in particular that scares you about going to the beach and/or going in the surf?’ The question was placed on this page because on the following page were two separate questions listing hazards that the respondent was being asked to produce in Question 5. Denying the participant prior access to this list of hazards was done to elicit an original thought-through response in the interest of question sequencing
(described in Section 3.5.1). Knowing what scares participants provides a context for the effect this may have on beach use, as well as risk-taking. Knowing that a participant claims to be scared of nothing likewise provides knowledge of their risk-taking tendencies when contextualised with later questions in the questionnaire on hazard rating and awareness.
Question 6 asked participants to indicate in checked boxes, any source of safety information they have seen or heard about the beach (adapted from Drozdzewski et al., 2012).
Determining sources of participant knowledge is an indication of education and schooling whilst also helping to establish hazard and risk awareness.
Question 7 presented participants with a list of hazards and asked them to rate these on a likert scale from 1, not of great concern, to 5, extremely dangerous. The choices offered were based on previously identified hazards representing varying levels of risk (perceived and actual) to beachgoer health in Australia (Short and Hogan, 1994; Gladstone, 2009; Charlton et al., 2011). The hazards identified were: ‘Sharks’, ‘Slippery surfaces’, ‘Rip currents’, ‘Blue bottles
/ jellyfish’, ‘Large waves’, ‘Sunburn’, ‘Submerged objects’, ‘Watercraft’ (boards, jet skis, boats 94 etc), ‘Pollution’, and ‘Dumping shore waves’. The hazard perception of participants is important for valuing the attitude trait of the intrapersonal facet of the conceptual model
(Figure 1.5). Moreover, it provides information about education and schooling.
Question 8 provided information about participant attitudes towards risk-taking at the beach by having them select one option out of five choices based on what situation they think presented the greatest risk of injury or harm. The scenarios provided were ‘Someone sunbaking’, ‘A person swimming beyond the waves in deep water’, ‘Someone wading in a current’, ‘Someone catching waves in shallow water’, and ‘A person learning to surf’. Five options was decided as the optimal amount, any more would make the question too convoluted and potentially frustrating for the participant, any less and the question would not have covered enough scenarios (McGuirk and O’Neill, 2010). The wording of each question was particularly important for Question 8, as it was imperative to avoid a situation where one scenario could be perceived as overly harrowing next to the others.
Questions 9 and 10 were linked response or contingency questions. Depending on how
Question 9 was answered determined whether participants would answer Question 10 (de
Vaus, 2002). To assess participant behaviour at the beach, Question 9 asked ‘Do you check conditions, or for hazards, before going to the beach or going in the water?’ This indicated a participant’s risk taking tendencies. If the response was ‘Yes’ to this question, then the participant was asked to tick boxes listing the hazards they check for. If they answered ‘No’,
Question 10 was skipped. The list of hazards in Question 10 was similar in content to Question
7, with the added option of ‘Other’ and with space to record a response that had not been supplied/pre-empted.
The final page of the questionnaire contained five questions, three of which were linked contingency questions. Question 11 enquired about the participant’s personal experience with surf hazards, asking ‘Have you ever been rescued?’ An answer of ‘No’ meant the next two 95
Questions 12 and 13 did not need to be answered. An answer of ‘Yes’ requested more information via two subsequent questions (12 and 13). Whether or not a participant has been in a rescue situation before can have significant bearing on their perception of personal risk including attitudes about beach use and safe beach practice (Drozdzewski et al., 2012). It also has the potential to influence future behaviour. An answer of ‘Yes’ to Question 11 directed the participant to indicate how in fact they had been rescued – Question 12 subsequently asked was it by ‘Lifeguard / lifesaver’, ‘Friend’, ‘Nearby surfer’, ‘Nearby swimmer’, or ‘Other’).
Question 13 asked whether they had been rescued between the red and yellow patrol flags
(McCool et al., 2009 asked a similar line of questions). How people are rescued from the surf provides useful data on the awareness of other beachgoers of at-risk users, and on the effectiveness of the lifeguard and surf life saving programs (Drozdzewski et al., 2012). A participant’s choice to swim between the flags is a reflection of their safety knowledge, attitudes, and/or risk perception depending on the knowledge and experience of the individual.
The last two questions of the survey questionnaire were belief type questions (de Vaus, 2002,
Section 3.6.1) about how safe participants felt at the beach – Question 14, and in the surf –
Question 15. This is also a measure of risk perception. Participants were offered a likert scaled response consisting of ‘Very unsafe’, ‘Unsafe’, ‘Moderate’, ‘Safe’, and ‘Very safe’.
Following question 15, research participation was acknowledged with a short message of thanks. Following this, an option was provided for participants to supply a name and contact details if they wished to participate in a follow-up in-depth interview. A sentence outlining the intention to perform follow-up interviews was provided, as well as contact details for the participant to contact the associated researchers if required. Following development and validation, the questionnaire was administered to its target population. This process is outlined in Section 3.7.1.
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Survey questionnaires are effective for establishing attitudinal, demographic and socio- economic patterns across large samples representative of populations (Gregory et al., 2009).
Questionnaires, however suitable for broad representation of a vast population, cannot provide access to the complex and contradictory social processes and experiences that are qualified by detailed, verbal accounts. Interviews are an attempt to bring to light the significant human experiences that the actor has perceived, as interpreted by the researcher
(Minichiello et al., 2008). The next subsection outlines the surveying method of in-depth interviewing and its use in human geographic research. This is followed with an account of how the interviews were constructed and performed in this research.
3.6.2 In-depth interviewing
“Believing, with Max Weber, that man [sic] is an animal suspended in webs of
significance he himself has spun, I take culture to be those webs, and the analysis of it
to be therefore not an experimental science in search of law but an interpretative one
in search of meaning” (Geertz, 1973, p5) (as quoted by Minichiello, 2008, p11).
The in-depth interview is used to gain access to, and understanding of, activities and events that cannot be observed by the researcher or expressed in the survey questionnaire
(Minichiello et al., 2008). An interview is a “conversation that is directed more or less towards the researcher’s need for data” (Green and Thorogood, 2004, p87). According to Minichiello et al. (2008, p46) “Interviewing is the most commonly used form of qualitative research”.
According to Dunn (2010), there are three major forms of interviewing: structured, unstructured and semi-structured. These can be placed along a continuum with other oral qualitative methods in human geography (Table 3.3).
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Oral qualitative methods in human geography
Research method Specific method Research questions
Biography Autobiography Individual
Biography
Oral history
Interviews Unstructured
Semi-structured
Structured
Survey questionnaire Questionnaire General/structural
Table3.3 The range of ways in which oral methods are utilised in geography (adapted from Winchester and Rofe, 2010).
Structured interviews follow a rendered set of carefully worded, pre-determined questions asked the same way in the same order. Unstructured interviews take on various forms, such as life histories and types of group interviewing, but are generally intended as an informant- focused exploration of personal perception and histories. Semi-structured or focused interviews, which have been used in this thesis, employ an interview guide that is content focused and deals with issues and themes judged by the researcher to be relevant to the research question(s) (Minichiello et al., 2008; Dunn, 2010). The content of the semi-structured interview is focused on the issues central to the research themes whilst allowing for greater flexibility and discussion than the survey questionnaire. This reduces statistical comparability between interviews, “but provides a more valid explanation of the informant’s perceptions and constructions of reality” (Minichiello et al., 2008, p51). A benefit of the focused interview is that the data derived is more systematic and comprehensible than in an unstructured interview, while the tone remains fairly conversational and informal. Drawbacks can arise if the interviewee is not adequately ‘probed’ for information, or when the pre-determined topics 98 outlined before hand by the researcher prevent other important issues from being raised by the respondent (Minichiello et al., 2008). A researcher with good preparation can avert these issues with good interviewing skills and knowledge of the research topic (Dunn, 2010).
An interview is unlike a normal, organic conversation and assumptions ensue in the relationship between the researcher and the researched. The research interview is a one-way process where the interviewer receives, but does not give – doing so might bias the participant’s responses (Minichiello et al., 2008). Roberts (1981, p30) explains that, “interviews are seen as having no personal meaning in terms of social interaction, so that their meaning tends to be confined to their statistical comparability with other interviews”. However, interactions between people within the social world are subject to social rules such as power and authority, rapport and transference – a research interview is no different (Pile, 1991). For this reason, the neutral distanced relationship described by Roberts (1981)22 may be optimal, but interaction and the consequent impact of embodied social characteristics of bias and prejudice make it nevertheless affected. Language, bodies, clothes, gender, age, and so on, matter in the exchanges that take place in interviews (McDowell, 2010).
3.6.2.1 Designing a semi-structured in-depth interview
In a study of beach and risk perceptions, interviewing presents the most succinct method for obtaining the data not obtainable with a questionnaire. Thorough research of individual perceptions requires detailed accounts of past and present experiences and emotions where obtaining the ‘right’ information is relative to asking the right questions. Dunn (2010, p105) lists strategies for formulating good interview questions to address the research area, listing the following rules:
Use easily understood language appropriate to the informant(s);
22 A neutral distanced relationship dictates that the researcher strives to be a neutral observer in social research, standing outside the social realities being studied. 99
Use non-offensive language;
Use words with commonly and uniformly accepted meanings;
Avoid ambiguity;
Phrase questions carefully; and
Avoid leading questions (ones that encourage a particular response).
The types of questions utilised in interviewing are either primary or secondary questions
(Dunn, 2010). Primary questions initiate discussion on a new theme or topic and can be of a descriptive, storytelling, opinion, structural, contrast or devil’s advocate type (Dunn, 2010, p106). Secondary questions are prompts to evoke more information about primary questions, also known as probing (Minichiello et al., 2008; Dunn 2010).
For this research, a set of easy-to-answer descriptive questions were positioned at the start of the interview. This serves two roles: first for statistical comparison of (research) participants and second, to ease the participant into the interview process in a non-threatening manner
(Dunn, 2010). Names were requested (although previously known from contact details provided via the questionnaire) for recording purposes only to prevent double interviewing and to distinguish between interviews. Age and place of birth were obtained for statistical and comparability reasons. Permanent addresses and length of residence, similar to birth place, provided a perspective on proximity to the coast or beach setting.
Minichiello et al. (2008) identified three parts to the structure of an interview, the opening, the topical section or middle, and the closing section. A structured interview is likely to follow these sequential parts in order, however the conversational style of the less structured interview is not always able to follow a set path, and is more likely to be performed in what is called the recursive style. Recursive questioning relies on the process of conversational interaction where the interview process flows between the researcher and the researched, discussing the topic introduced by the former (Minichiello et al., 2008). The seven primary 100 questions of the topical section in this thesis interview (Appendix II) were subject to ordering flexibility (to an extent), as dictated by the recursive model.
The participant was asked, ‘How would you describe your beach use?’ to establish perceived familiarity with the beach as well as beach use (McConnell, 1977; Roca and Villares, 2008). A set of secondary prompts were established in case the desired detail was not initially forthcoming. These included questions on visitation frequency, location and activity, asking ‘so you go to the beach often?’, ‘what beach or beaches do you frequent?’ and ‘what do you do at the beach?’
To investigate risk perception participants were asked ‘What are your thoughts on risk taking at the beach, such as staying safe in the surf and so on?’ Questions that require an opinion provide information in the form of impressions, feelings, assertions and guesses (Dunn, 2010).
These sorts of questions are appropriate for assessing risk and hazard perceptions of beachgoers as well as hazard awareness and knowledge (as previously observed by Lupton and
Tulloch, 2002a, in their study of voluntary risk-taking in Australia). Risk perception was also examined by asking ‘In what ways do you think people take risks at the beach?’ (Finkel, 2008).
This question also tested for the presence of false consensus, such as wrongly assuming more people swim at unpatrolled beaches than actually occurs (explained in more detail in Chapter
4, Section 4.2.1) (Pederson et al., 2008). In instances where the participant had not given enough information, secondary questions were designed to ‘nudge’ and ‘summarise’ for further detail (Dunn, 2010, p108). For example, ‘... and you believe that is the best way to minimise risk?’ or, ‘So, your view is that [participant’s answer] is risky?’
To investigate hazard perception, participants were asked ‘Is there anything about going to the beach or going in the surf that particularly frightens you?’ With this question, the participant was given the opportunity to elaborate on their initial response. Perceptions about the severity of hazards plays an important role in an individual’s risk assessment , enquiring as to 101 what the participant views as ‘scary’ assists in this understanding. This includes the participant’s belief about acceptable risk (Barnett and Breakwell, 2001). Several secondary questions were developed to directly follow this question. This included assessing a false consensus with, ‘Do you think this is the most dangerous aspect of being at the beach?’
Assessing a participant’s assessment of risk, ‘Knowing this hazard is present, would it put you off going to the beach or going into the surf?’ As well as assessing their hazard perception and risk-taking attitude, ‘Is there anything else that frightens you, or would keep you from going to the beach or going into the surf?’ Prompts such as, ‘Why do you think that?’ were used to evoke more detail.
The question, ‘Have you ever been involved in a situation that scared or shocked you at the beach?’ asked the participant to recall an event of personal experience, which included experiences of inadequate risk assessment. Following this, the participant was probed, ‘If I may ask, were you injured or hurt?’ to help determine the significance of the event, including lapses of judgement. The participant was then asked ‘Did this experience put you off going to the beach (or in the surf)?’ to reveal any subsequent impact of the event / judgment lapse / inadequate risk assessment. Previous experience relates significantly to risk perception, including whether or not the experience occurred voluntarily or if the risk was know, unknown or partially known (Barnett and Breakwell, 2001).
To begin to investigate the enculturation of beach use in Australia, participants were asked,
‘Why do you go to the beach?’ Why people go to the beach is simultaneously an opinion question, where participants give an assertion about why they go to the beach, and a storytelling question, which provides an account of events, which may uncover causative links for their reasons for beachgoing (Dunn, 2010). Exploring the meaning participants attach to the Australian beach and to beachgoing was further explored with the question, ‘Why do you think people, including Australians and tourists, go to the beach in Australia?’ This examined
102 participant (beach users) perceptions about other beach users, and their reason for going to the beach. Participants were prompted with secondary questions which asked, for instance,
‘Why do you think that?’ or ’Are they the only reasons?’
The interview closed with a clearing-house question – a question that acts as an indication to the participant of the intention to wrap-up. This also enables the participant to propose a new topic that is of importance to them but has been otherwise neglected or overlooked up to this point. The participant may also wish to elaborate on a previously mentioned but inadequately covered topic (Minichiello et al., 2008). The final question asked was, ‘Is there anything else you would like to express about the beach – about going to the beach or beaches in general in
Australia?’
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3.7 The survey process
The survey process for this thesis, which begun with questionnaire and interview development
(discussed in previous sections), contained a dissemination process that consisted of three distinct stages:
1. Determining a sample population
2. Establishing modes of survey dissemination
3. Implementing the survey in the field
i. Administering the questionnaire
ii. Conducting the in-depth interviews
The first phase of development was the determination of a sample population. Beachgoers from Sydney and the New South Wales Central Coast were targeted for this research. The sites chose encompassed beach users from multiple social, cultural, economic and geographical backgrounds with differing levels of knowledge and experience, possessing a variety of attitudes, beliefs and personalities, consistent with the diversity representative of beachgoing in Australia. However, the New South Wales focus of this research means that comparative ratings of responses and behaviours between beachgoers in other Australian states may be very different, regardless of the beaches selected having been reported by McKay et al. (2014, p81) as “a representative standard for Australian beach culture”. A 2001 survey of international visitors to Sydney determined that between twenty and fifty-six percent of them, depending on country of origin, visited Bondi Beach (Battye and Suridge, 2002). Bondi receives over one million visitors annually and up to 40 000 in a single day, a visitation rate that is greater than that of many small countries (Anning, 2012). Battye and Suridge (2002) also observed that international visitors to Australia listed ‘going to the beach’ as their main purpose of journey forty-three to seventy-two percent of the time (depending on country of origin). Beach visitation numbers are notoriously difficult to calculate and sources can vary 104 significantly in estimations (Anning, 2012). Most estimates suggest that Bondi is the most frequented beach in Australia. Manly Beach on Sydney’s Northern Beaches (a research location for this thesis) is also one of the most visited Australian beaches (Anning, 2012). These two beaches also represent high priority tourist destinations (Battye and Suridge, 2002), demonstrating high levels of beachgoer diversity. Central Coast beaches provided a study area outside a major city to incorporate the responses of beachgoers of less-frequented locations.
Following selection of the sample population, methods of disseminating the thesis questionnaire were assessed. Modes of survey distribution are varied and various methods have differing strengths and weaknesses depending on the research context and target population (McGuirk and O’Neill, 2010). It is often difficult to conduct enough questionnaires to draw general conclusions about a population, or to know when enough have been gathered.
The validity of conclusions, or how convincing the arguments made from survey data are, depends on the quality of the sampling procedures and the questions asked (McGuirk and
O’Neill, 2010). As a place to begin deciding on an optimal distribution technique, central limit theorem was considered for the number of questionnaires required. Central limit theorem dictates the rules of sampling, supporting statistical claims from the research of representativeness, generalizability, and replicability (McGuirk and O’Neill, 2010). To satisfy the statistical requirements of the research a minimum of three-hundred questionnaires was considered to be an adequate representation, consistent with relevant literature (McGuirk and
O’Neill, 2010; McLafferty, 2010).
Sometimes the design and mode of distribution can limit the sampling frame resulting in bias due to over or under representation of a particular group or demographic (McLafferty, 2010).
For instance, Drozdzewski et al. (2012) were overrepresented by males with high levels of surf experience and knowledge in the thirty to forty year old age bracket from Sydney’s Eastern suburbs. However, in the case of Drozdzewski et al. (2012), this was beneficial to the research
105 because they were able to draw conclusions about the prevalence of bad decision-making about risk-taking in the surf by supposedly knowledgeable beachgoers. The reason for overrepresentation by Drozdzewski et al. (2012) was due to the distribution of an online survey, of which 506 (75% of the total) respondents were derived from a surf and beach photography website where subscribers have a specific interest in beach and surf culture. This thesis followed the experiences of Drozdzewski et al. (2012) in that the most succinct method of dissemination was to distribute the questionnaire ad hoc at selected field sites. An online survey tool had initially been established using the website surveymonkey.com, but was abandoned in favour of the ad hoc method. This way I was able to limit the potential bias from over or underrepresentation that was experienced by Drozdzewski et al. (2012). Moreover, the researcher’s presence is known to motivate potential respondents to participate (McGuirk and
O’Neill, 2010). In addition, although anonymity was assured, there were no sensitive questions, or reason for any socially disapproving responses to questions. Mail drops were also considered, however their low response rates and potential for not being completed by a sole author (i.e. getting help to answer questions) and variations in location response rates supported the decision not to include them (Cloke et al., 2004; McGuirk and O’Neill, 2010).
Following the establishment of survey dissemination modes, I selected field sites. The field sites chosen for recruiting the necessary participants were selected to represent Australian beachscapes and/or have beachgoers in attendance. The next subsection lists the sites chosen.
3.7.1 Administering the questionnaire
Multiple field sites across Sydney and the NSW Central Coast were including in sampling to ensure that a representative cross-section of the population was accessed. Dissemination took place at beaches (Table 3.4) and at several beachside tourist accommodation sites (Table 3.5).
Three-hundred and sixteen questionnaires were collected.
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Beach Location Surveys collected
Avoca NSW Central Coast 25 (8%)
Bondi Sydney Eastern Suburbs 24 (8%)
Cronulla Southern Sydney 17 (5%)
Dee Why Sydney Northern Beaches 10 (3%)
Freshwater Sydney Northern Beaches 16 (5%)
Manly Sydney Northern Beaches 32 (10%)
North Curl Curl Sydney Northern Beaches 8 (3%)
North Avoca NSW Central Coast 10 (3%)
North Steyne Sydney Northern Beaches 20 (6%)
Queenscliff Sydney Northern Beaches 34 (11%)
South Curl Curl Sydney Northern Beaches 6 (2%)
Wanda Southern Sydney 8 (3%)
210 (66%)
Table 3.4 Stratified sampling frame of beach locations including percent of total participants by site (sample size and percentages represent how many questionnaires were collected at the corresponding site. For example, for Avoca 25 out 316 equals 8%) (66% of questionnaires were collected at beach locations).
The relatively high number of participants from Sydney’s Northern Beaches is largely attributable to sampling ease. As I was the only distributor of the survey instrument, and living on the Northern Beaches, these locations allowed for ease of access. In addition, it was believed that the stretch of beach from Manly to Queenscliff provided a valuable representation of popular beachgoing in Australia, attributable to the high levels of beachgoer diversity experienced at these locations, especially with regard to tourist popularity (Battye and Suridge, 2002). The other sites were selected in the interest of covering a broad spectrum of beach locales and provide potentially different beachgoing and risk-taking perspectives. 107
Recruitment of questionnaire participants took place from the beginning of summer in late
2011 through until late autumn the following year, which is approximately six months of data collection. Recruitment took place within the guidelines of the UNSW ethics approval process and a completed risk assessment (Appendix I). The UNSW Human Research Ethics Panel dictated an arm’s length approach to participant recruitment in public surveys. This requires the researcher to avoid making a personal approach to potential participants in which social pressure could be exerted. The outcome of this was to set up a table with legible signage to attract people to approach and take part in the study of their own volition (Figure 3.3).
Participants would take a questionnaire, fill it out, and return it when completed. Of the potential participants to approach the table and enquire about the study, approximately ninety percent followed through and filled-out the questionnaire.
Figure 3.3 Fieldwork station at Queenscliff beach. (Source: Todd Walton, January 2012) 108
In accordance with the research questions (Chapter 1, Section 1.5), the questionnaire was designed to observe and compare the beachgoing perceptions of beachgoers from multiple demographic backgrounds. This included holidaymakers and tourists visiting NSW beaches from interstate, rural Australia and from overseas. For viable comparisons to be drawn an adequate number of participants were required from these locations. A process was implemented to accomplish this whereby questionnaires were disseminated at holiday and tourist destinations and residences near the coast (Battye and Suridge, 2002). Backpacker hostels and caravan parks were targeted to capture tourist testimony. These locations accommodate international tourists, Australian holidaymakers from interstate, as well as travelling Australians whom reside away from the coast or the city (McKay et al., 2014). Table
3.5 details the quantity of collected questionnaires from these locations.
Site Location Surveys collected
Sydney Lakeside Holiday Park Narrabeen Beach 68 (22%)
Manly Backpacker Hostel Manly Beach 28 (9%)
Terry Hills Caravan Park Terry Hills 10 (3%)
106 (34%)
Table 3.5 Sampling frame of sites targeted for recruitment of tourist beachgoers (number and percent of collected questionnaires are provided where percentages represent proportion of the total number of collected forms, akin to Table 3.4) (34% of questionnaires were collected at these sites).
Administering the questionnaire at the locations listed in Table 3.5 involved setting up a display – similar to the booth at the beach – to attract potential participants (Figure 3.4).
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Figure 3.4 Self-recruit station at Terry Hills Caravan Park. (Source: Todd Walton, April 2012)
At Sydney Lakeside Holiday Park and Terry Hills Caravan Park, a station was erected at the respective reception desks, within view of the public thoroughfare. The stations would be left several weeks after which I would return to collect any completed forms. The station at Manly
Backpacker Hostel was set up in the kitchen and dining area and I returned several times for collection of completed questionnaires and replenishment of new questionnaires. At each station, there was a sign to attract recruitment, a tray containing the survey questionnaires, a box of pens, and a box file for the completed forms to be placed inside.
Following questionnaire completion, participants were given the opportunity to self-recruit for a follow-up in-depth interview. In compliance with ethics requirements of minimising pressure on the individual, questionnaire participants could opt to supply a name and contact details on the final page of the questionnaire, but were never asked in-person by the researcher to do so.
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Where a participant had left contact details, contact was made as soon as possible to arrange an interview.
3.7.2 Conducting the in-depth interviews
Thirty in-depth interviews were undertaken. Table 3.6 illustrates where the interview participants were recruited from, via the source of their original questionnaire.
Source Interviews completed
Sydney Lakeside Holiday Park 7
Queenscliff beach 6
Terry Hills Caravan Park 4
Avoca beach 2
Bondi beach 2
Manly Backpacker Hostel 2
Manly beach 2
Cronulla beach 1
Dee Why beach 1
Freshwater beach 1
North Curl Curl beach 1
Wanda beach 1
Table 3.6 Number of completed interviews arranged by where the interview participants completed their questionnaire.
Interviews were conducted from February in 2012 through to June 2012. A summary of this process involved:
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1. Provision of contact details by participant after finishing questionnaire;
2. Initial contact using details supplied to arrange in-depth interview;
3. Performing of the interview.
Interviews were carried out in person, usually at the participant’s home or work address.
When a face-to-face meeting was not possible, an over-the-phone interview was scheduled at a time appropriate to the participant. In-person interviews were similarly scheduled to accommodate the participant’s requests. After contact details were obtained, contact was made as quickly as possible, usually within the first week to minimise loss of interest.
Telephone interviewing has a number of disadvantages, most of which pertain to occasions where the recipient is not expecting a call (Thomas et al., 2011). For this research, the time-of- interview call had been pre-arranged, by either email or phone call. Advantages for interviewing over-the-phone include less resource expenditure on time and travel costs, as well as the ability to access participants that would otherwise be too difficult to reach in- person, including interstate and overseas participants (Thomas et al., 2011).
The interview was opened by asking the participant to sign a consent form as part of the ethics requirements. This was a verbal agreement for over the phone interviews (the form can be viewed in Appendix I). The participant consent form relays the intentions of the research and the voluntary nature of participant involvement, as well as their right to revoke consent at any time. Before signing, the participant was asked for permission to use a recording device to tape the interview for transcribing and analysis purposes. A short paragraph detailing the nature of the research, including why the participant is appropriate for the study, was read aloud. The initial stages of the interview included building rapport with the participant as this can have consequences for how questions are answered (Minichiello et al., 2008).
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An interview guide was used, which contained a list of questions and topics that would drive the narrative in the direction intended by the research (Minichiello, et al., 2008). The agenda set out in the guide was used as a reference useful for maintaining the conversational flow of the interview. Questions in the guide were ordered whilst still allowing room for ordering flexibility, consistent with the recursive model of semi-structured interviewing (Minichiello, et al., 2008). As the participant spoke, notes were jotted onto the interview guide under the relevant theme or topic in tandem with voice recording. Taking (non-verbatim) notes, served two important purposes. First, in case anything happened to the audio file (unclear recording, loss or corruption of file) notes on the interview guide could be consulted. Second, the comfortable creation of moments of silence while not talking is a suggested interview technique. These silent moments often encourage the research participant to think and then say more (Minichiello et al., 2008).
Taking field notes on the interview guide also permitted a descriptive account of the actors and settings involved in the interview process. This information placed the interview encounter in its wider context, achieved by writing a short biographical account, which included participant appearance (where possible), demeanour, and description of their house or room in the case of face-to-face interviews (Minichiello et al., 2008). Such details ‘thicken’ the narrative. Having asked all the desired questions and establishing and maintaining rapport with the participant, by listening attentively and sensitively, the interview was closed by thanking the participant for their time (Minichiello et al., 2008).
Following completion of fieldwork, data was processed and analysed. This is explained over the following subsections.
3.7.3 Data processing and analysis
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The succeeding subsections report on the process of establishing and maintaining the databases used for analysing and reporting survey questionnaire and in-depth interview data.
This thesis required multiple types of analyses from its quantitative, qualitative and interpretative components (Hesse-Biber and Leavy, 2011). Before analysis however, the raw data from questionnaires, field notes and interviews were securely stored in databases where they could later be quantified, categorised and coded accordingly.
3.7.3.1 Questionnaire data
The majority of questions in the questionnaire used pre-coded categories. This describes questions where the participant was able to choose from a closed number of selections. This type of data can be collected readily and easily collated within the electronic environment
(McGuirk and O’Neill, 2010). Using Microsoft Excel 2007 spreadsheets, data were entered in a systematic and easily identified manner. Qualitative data arising from open-ended questions within the questionnaire were similarly stored on a spreadsheet, copied word-for-word for subsequent analysis and interpretation. These personal explanations and accounts of experiences are important parts of qualitative analysis because they tend to yield valuable insights, many of them unanticipated, which can lead to lines of inquiry during the in-depth interview (McGuirk and O’Neill, 2010). McGuirk and O’Neill (2010, p213) explain, “it is best to avoid classifying qualitative responses into simple descriptive categories”. Question 5 in the final part of the questionnaire was the only open question permitting a detailed opinion response. The option ‘other’ was also available in place of a pre-coded category, but these questions (6, 10 and 12) were not designed to elicit any sort of detailed narrative or history from the respondent.
Participants sometimes left questions blank, for various reasons, which included not understanding the question, simply missing the question, ignoring it, or refusal to complete the question/questionnaire (Stoop, 2005; McGuirk and O’Neill, 2010). Instances where a 114 question was not completed was referred to in data entry as ‘blank’, or as ‘n/a’ when no answer was required – such as for a linked response question (questions 10, 12 and 13). If a response was answered incorrectly, for example ticking more than one box where only one was required, the entry would be denoted ‘n/a’ and the participant’s answer would subsequently be dismissed. A high rate of non-response can pose a threat to questionnaire quality by causing unwanted systematic deviations from the true outcome of a survey. Of the three questionnaire protagonists (researchers, respondents and non-respondents), non- respondents are often over looked when they can in fact be a major player in results and in bias (Stoop, 2005). This is hard to overcome in social research because much of the time the only thing that can be done is to consider it as a non-response. However, if overall survey cooperation exceeds ninety percent, it is difficult to detect subgroups that exhibit large differences in cooperation (Stoop, 2005). Because a response rate of ninety percent was experienced in this thesis, non-responses were not significant (Groves and Couper, 1998).
Upon completion of spreadsheet data entry, the questionnaire forms were locked away in a filing cabinet. Contact details (if provided for follow-up interview) were removed in accordance with the ethical requirements governing this research (Appendix I).
Following data entry, data analysis of questionnaires was conducted utilising a range of statistical techniques appropriate for a quantitative survey. Descriptive statistics, such as frequencies, percentages and averages, were used to highlight characteristics of the sample population. These calculations were formulated using Microsoft Excel 2007 directly from the spreadsheet database of results. To compare categorical data of one or more variables I used the chi-square (X2) statistic to measure relatedness and independence. The X2 test is a goodness-of-fit test used to test the hypothesis that data has come from a probability distribution belonging to a certain group (Greenwood and Nikulin, 1996). Pearson’s variation of the X2 test was used in this thesis. Pearson’s X2 test allows for testing of the frequency of a
115 specific event that has been observed within a sample (Greenwood and Nikulin, 1996).
Summary statistics in the form of graphs and tables were used to visually complement statistical analyses. Visual aids help communicate information as they are more likely to imprint on the memory of readers as well as speed comprehension of information (Hamilton,
2013).
3.7.3.2 Interview analysis
Interviews were recorded using an Olympus DM-450 digital recorder. Following the completion of an in-depth interview, the recorded audio track was uploaded onto Olympus
Sonority version 1.2.0 software where it was stored for further processing. While digital audio recorders have simplified the transfer of electronic file from recorder to electronic storage, it has not removed the need for transcription (Minichiello et al, 2008). A matching transcription device (Olympus AS-2400 Transcription Kit) was purchased to ensure compatibility between the steps of the analysis process. Transcription is used as a tool to ease coding and analysis of survey data by transforming the interview into a textual form, done so with the use of the transcription kit and Microsoft Word 2007. Minichiello et al. (2008, p119) state that the verbatim transcription of an interview “is an inherently transformative and interpretative process rather than a simple administrative exercise preparing data for analysis”. Word-for- word transcription alone does not fully account for the non-verbal, extra-discursive encounter that has taken place during an interview (Pile, 1991). To reflect the complete interview as best as possible, including the extra-discursive interactions, I completed transcription as soon as possible after the interview. During transcription I referenced the interview guide (containing notes taken during the interview) for instances of unclear sections of recording. The interview guide was also referenced when, on some occasions, the recording device had been turned off prematurely. Interview participants sometimes have more to say.
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Qualitative data cannot be computerised in the same way as quantitative data, but they still need to be transcribed, coded and filed (Lyons and Coyle, 2007; Minichiello et al., 2008). The next step in the analysis of interview data was to code the textual accounts for categories and themes. Coding was done using QSR’s NVivo 9 (and 10), a software program that provides search, query and visualisation tools to assist in the interpretation of qualitative data. The software does not replace the analytical thinking process of interpretative research, as it does not develop propositions from the data. However, it does facilitate the retrieval of unsystematised text material in a fast, flexible way, using structured nodes (the name for codes in NVivo) of topics, themes or categories (Minichiello et al., 2008). Creation of nodes in
NVivo first requires the import of the transcribed text document from Microsoft Word 2007 into NVivo where it can then be accessed for coding. Nodes in NVivo are an indexing system created by the user by extracting snippets or chunks of text. These text chunks are then coded as a specific theme or topic, and represented as a node. A hierarchy of nodes and sub-nodes create a tree like structure organised into meaningful categories by the researcher that can be modified, extended or deleted as coding progresses.
Following completion of data entry of all thirty interviews into NVivo, nodes and themes were referenced throughout the thesis writing process to inform theories about risk-taking behaviours in the beachscape. This was completed in accordance with the conceptual framework and the research questions outlined in Chapter 1. It is important to note that in qualitative and interpretative research, such as in-depth interviewing, data collection and analysis occur simultaneously – “without analysis occurring in the field, data has no direction”
(Minichiello et al., 2008, p258). Psychoanalytic geographical analysis was incorporated into this process as explicated in Section 3.4 to assist in finding meaning in the collected data as a form of discourse analysis (Minichiello et al., 2008; Bondi, 2014). Minichiello et al. (2008, p291) write that discourse analysis “assumes that language and practice are the ‘readable’ surface-
117 level manifestations of hidden motivators. The actual motivations become clouded or hidden as they are translated into language or action”. Psychoanalytic geographical analysis was used as a means to decode discourse and find a possible basis for the manifestation of particular responses or behaviours.
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3.8 Summary and notes
There were some obstacles encountered along the way to field work completion. One such obstacle involved the surveying of beachgoers being somewhat restricted by the parameters outlined in the risk assessment, including restrictions on time spent in the sun – a notorious component of the Australian beachscape (risk assessment, Appendix I). Restrictions on time outlined by the risk assessment were barely noticeable when compared to the restrictions imposed by Sydney’s 2011/12 summer weather. The Bureau of Meteorology reported this period – within which fieldwork was conducted – as having the most rainy summer days since
1998/9, and the coolest summer temperatures since 1996/7. Rainy days coincided with weekends, which may have narrowed the sample, with the possible overrepresentation of week/workday beachgoers.
The UNSW Human Research Ethics Panel’s arms length approach to survey recruitment may have had a similar restrictive effect on the representation of beachgoers. Relying on potential participants to self-recruit for the questionnaire arguably further narrowed the sample to be overrepresented by those socially bold enough to approach the researcher, or participants with higher levels of curiosity. More timid beachgoers might have been reluctant to approach the table/researcher.
It should be noted that it was my intention to recruit beachgoers on Queensland’s Gold Coast whilst I was there in April of 2012. However, the drowning of a fourteen-year-old lifesaver during the Australian Surf Lifesaving Championships rendered this research on beach risk- taking as untimely. This resulted in a dataset that is perhaps more regional than was initially intended.
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3.9 Chapter conclusion
This chapter has described the techniques and methods operationalised to address the research questions posited in the introduction chapter of this thesis. A survey questionnaire was created after a stringent process of development, validation and administration that yielded thirty-two pilot surveys and three-hundred and sixteen responses via in-situ, face-to- face recruitment. Follow-up in-depth interviews, complementary to the survey questionnaire, were carefully designed to evoke the meanings and context of a sample population’s responses that were otherwise unreachable using a quantitative questionnaire. Thirty interviews were conducted with each taking between fifteen to forty minutes. To manage the large quantity of quantitative and qualitative data, processing systems were employed using suitable computational software, which was also used to assist in the analysis and interpretation of data, and the subsequent presentation and discussion of results.
Within this chapter, I have outlined the process of formulating and administering a mixed- method and mixed-analysis approach to the socio-cultural and psychoanalytic study of decision-making, behaviour and risk-taking in the Australian beachscape. Along with the standard of conducting social surveys in a human geographical study, these research methods investigate the history of that data in the context of the psychodynamic subject. The subjective experience of space has been a contested issue since geography’s ‘cultural turn’ of the late
1980s, promoting a greater degree of pluralism in human geographic methodologies to investigate the contingent and constructed qualities of spatial phenomena (Gregory et al.,
2009). One such influence has been the emergence of psychoanalytic methods, outlined in this chapter (and Appendix IV), to make clearer sense of the levels and scenes of language, behaviour and social structure in analysis.
This research marries methods and insights from the psychological and psychoanalytic fields with a reflexive interpretative geography to enable modelling behaviours of risk in the dynamic 120
Australian beachscape to be more realistic. Psychoanalysis provides the theoretic thread that can tie the individual – as mind and body – to the world around. This accounts for behavioural geography’s ‘black box’ conception of mental processes (Pile, 1996, p34). There may still be debate about the relevance of non-scientific psychoanalytic theorems in the ‘science’ of human geography, but I would argue, if human geography, with its interpretation of feelings, beliefs and subjectivity, in all their unquantifiable intangibilities is a science, then so too is psychoanalysis. The themes, theories, methods and insights explored and explained in this chapter pervade this thesis in the hope that a fuller understanding of behaviours in the
Australian beachscape, with all their danger and excitement, has been achieved.
The next four chapters of this thesis report the results of the methodological process described in this chapter. This includes interpretation of results in context with the research questions outlined in Chapter 1, Section 1.5. The following chapter addresses the first research question.
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4. Beachgoing patterns and perceptions in Australia
4.1 Introduction
This chapter addresses the first thesis question:
1. What defines the appeal of the beach in Australia – a hazardous, risk-filled space?
In this chapter, I explore some of the varying perceptions of beachgoing behaviour in general, and then more specifically in Australia, to bring the appeal of beachgoing to light. I also draw on the data obtained and interpreted using the methodological devices of social surveying in psycho-cultural geography (as outlined in Chapter 3) to better understand how perceptions of the beach differ and if these perceptions differ by group, i.e. demographically. Patterns of beachgoing were examined by analysing how often participants representing a sample population of beachgoers in Australia utilise the beach and for what purposes/activities. The specific reasons people use the Australian beach is currently an assumed understanding, which generally refers to an ‘Australian way of life’, agreed upon by scholars and informed by mostly observational data (for example Booth, 2001; Huntsman, 2001, Skinner et al., 2003; Hosking et al., 2009; Maguire et al., 2011). This thesis aims to build upon the knowledge of these authors by addressing the questions of what people do at the beach and why they go to the beach, using the quantitative and qualitative social surveying techniques discussed in the previous chapter. The results of this investigation are reported in Section 4.2 of this chapter. Following this, I introduce theories about the beach that position it as a unique space where culture and nature, land and sea, overlap and intertwine. These theories are drawn on throughout this chapter, and later in the thesis, to explain the often-unique, spatially defined and beachscape- specific behaviours exhibited by research participants.
Section 4.4 presents a discussion on the inclusive and exclusive properties of the beach. This includes an exploration of the psychosocially constructed categories that beachgoers often use 122 to distinguish each other. The social features of the beachscape are analysed for their contribution to attitudes about behaviour, which includes defining the behaviours that are accepted, and expected, of Australian beach users, and how this delimitation contributes to an overall ‘appeal’.
In Section 4.5, the beach is considered for its universal appeal. It is argued that the appeal of the beach space is produced in a zone of transition that can alleviate the beachgoer of psychosocial hang-ups experienced in everyday life. This section draws on theories such as the cathartic play, the pleasure principle, and the attraction of the sublime in nature, to position the beach as an appealing and unique space. Evidence for the existence of these phenomena is drawn from responses to the thesis questionnaire and interview narratives.
A discussion of the beach’s general appeal and social influence is followed by considering the social behaviours and cultures of beach use that occur specifically within the Australian beach context. The unique qualities of Australia’s beach cultures are traced by drawing on specific examples from the in-depth interviews and survey questionnaires that were carried out for this thesis. Themes relevant to a study of the Australian beachscape, such as memories of the beach and concepts of beach ownership, are explored in relation to beachgoing behaviours.
The geography of Australia as an island continent places the country in a unique social and cultural position that is directly related to its physical isolation from other countries (and cultures). This unique position is discussed with regard to its contribution to Australia’s somewhat insular, but at the same time liberal, social and cultural attributes.
The chapter concludes with a summation on beachgoing patterns and perceptions in Australia, noting the spiritual characteristics that permeate past and present perceptions of the beachscape. The themes addressed in this chapter are then contextualised for how they underpin the risk-taking behaviours of beachgoers.
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4.2 Quantifying beach use
“No other country is so beach-bound ... the beach [is] life at its most joyful and
simplest” (Booth, 2001, p3, 4).
This section presents an exploration of the reasons why people go to the beach to uncover the detail behind such joyful and simple beachgoing in Australia that happens across a broad demographic, and includes visitors to Australia, despite the many dangers. The function of this section is to report the results of the thesis questionnaire, in conjunction with results from the thesis interview, which illustrate the self-reported reasons why participants use the beach.
Why people go to the beach in Australia, and what they do once they are there, tends to be informed by personal experience and observational evidence (including those provided by
Booth, 2001 and Huntsman, 2001 and in Hosking et al., 2009). This section builds upon these observations by quantifying the various activities of beachgoers in the Australian beachscape.
4.2.1 Results from the survey questionnaire and interview
People use the Australian beach in a variety of ways. Activities performed in the beachscape most commonly occur in two locations: on the sand (commonly referred to in Australia as the beach) and in the water (which, in many cases, is surf). There are beachscape activities that do not involve the sand or ocean, such as sitting, walking, jogging, riding bikes or skating along the esplanade, picnicking or playing in an adjacent park or barbeque area, driving over dunes, climbing across headlands, swimming in rock pools, or hang gliding off coastal cliffs.
Previous research on Australian beach use has identified usage preferences for beach selection
(for example Morgan, 1999; Tudor and Williams, 2006) and frequency of use (for example
McConnell, 1977; Pendleton et al., 2001; Morgan et al., 2009a; Drozdzewski et al., 2012), but
124 little is known about preferred beach activity in Australia (Warthan et al., 200523; Maguire et al., 2011). Marin et al. (2009) note that understanding patterns of beach use helps inform beach management and planning. However, “coastal planners and managers not only face the challenge of increasing visitation to beaches but also the need to manage for somewhat conflicting values among beach-goers” (Maguire et al., 2011, p781).
Figure 4.1 uses data obtained from the thesis questionnaire to illustrate the reasons that best describe why participants go to the beach (responses were self-reported from a set of pre- determined options, as explicated in Chapter 3, Section 3.6.1.2).
For adventure/do Not sure, just do something different To be with 3% 3% friends/hang out n/a 8% 14%
To train/workout 5%
To swim 15%
To relax 36% To surf 6% To sunbake 10%
Figure 4.1 Primary reasons for beachgoing24.
23 Warthan et al.’s (2005) study is of beachgoers on a single beach in Texas, United States. 24 14% of participants were awarded an n/a result due to answering the question incorrectly by selecting more than one response. 2% of participants did not answer at all).
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From a cross-sectional sample of Australian beachgoers, the most common reason given in the thesis questionnaire for going to the beach was ‘To relax’ (Figure 4.1). The next most common reasons (in descending order) were ‘To swim’, ’To sunbake’, ‘To be with friends/hang out’, ‘To surf’, ‘To train/workout’. The least selected reasons for going to the beach were ‘For adventure/do something different’ and ‘Not sure, just do’. These results suggest that the most common goal of beachgoing among participants is relaxation, which tends to be predicated on the performance of physical activity or a feeling of connectedness with the natural environment (achieved through swimming or sun-bathing/baking).
From the thesis interview, fifteen out of thirty participants stated in some form or another that they go to the beach to relax or that they find being at the beach relaxing. Most interview participants who go ‘To relax’ mentioned performing some type of physical activity as key to their feeling relaxed at the beach. Five interview participants (out of 15 who go ‘To relax’) reported swimming, wading or bodysurfing25 as their preferred beachscape relaxation activity, two enjoyed surfing and three cited exercising, training or just being active as their method of relaxation. From these results, it appears that enjoyment of the beachscape is manifest within a play-relax frame. This is further explored throughout this chapter.
For comparisons, questionnaire participants were classed into groups based on demographic variables such as age and gender. Figure 4.2 displays how these groups differed in their response to the question, ‘What reason best describes why you go to the beach?’
25 ‘Bodysurfing’ is a term used in Australia to describe the activity of wave catching in the surf without the use of a board, in other words just using the body (Jaggard, 2007). Surfing on the other hand infers the use of a board or floatation device. 126
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According to Figure 4.2, ‘To relax’ was the most cited reason for going to the beach for females across all age categories. For males, ‘To swim’ was the main reason in the 18-20 and 40-49 age categories, whilst ‘To relax’ was most popular in the remaining age categories. ‘To surf’ was cited only once by a female as the primary reason for beachgoing. ‘To surf’ was subsequently a more popular reason for males (18 responses). ‘To sunbake’ was a much more popular choice for 18-20 year old females (28%) when compared with 18-20 year old males, with no males selecting this as their primary reason for beachgoing. ‘To swim’ was more popular amongst males than females within all age groups other than participants in the 60+-age category where females were more likely to go to the beach ‘To swim’.
During the interview process, participants were asked for their views on why they think others go to the beach. This was asked to find out whether participants associate beachgoing with, for instance, social activity, relaxation and fun, and for links with Australian culture and society.
This question also provided detail about consensus of perception, as well as the possibility of false consensus. Ross et al. (1977) found that social observers tend to perceive a false consensus whereby people tend to perceive their own behavioural choices or judgments as normal and non-descriptive of their personality while viewing alternative responses as uncommon, deviant, or inappropriate. When asked ‘Why do you go to the beach?’ the consensus amongst participants was ‘To relax’ – as evident from the interview and questionnaire results (in Figures 4.1 and 4.2). When asked ‘Why do you think people, including
Australians and tourists, go to the beach in Australia?’ the results were as follows:
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Why others go to the beach according to interviewees Frequency
Good beaches and natural beauty 12
It is a social thing 11
It is the Australian way of life 11
Go in the water / surf 9
Fun 7
Relax 5
Health benefits / exercise 5
Escape / change of scenery 4
Sunbake / tan 4
Table 4.1 List of reasons that interview participants believed best represent why people go to the beach in Australia.
Most interview participants believed that experiencing nice beaches and beautiful scenery was the main attraction for beach visitation in Australia, followed closely by going to the beach to socialise, and going to the beach to live the ‘Australian way of life’ (Table 4.1). Interview participants only mentioned relaxation five times, which contrasted with their own motivations for beachgoing (‘To relax’ – 15 times). It appears that interview participants believed beachgoing in Australia is generally based on the appeal of scenic natural environments, sociability and Australianness (in accordance with the top three beachgoing reasons from Table 4.1). These results conflict with Ross et al.’s (1977) explanation of a false consensus. According to Ross et al. (1977), interview participants would assume more beach users seek relaxation as primary motivation for beachgoing in accordance with their own responses. The consensus for relaxing at the beach is less than Ross et al. (1977) would hypothesise.
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However, as I assert throughout this chapter, relaxation is achieved in the beachscape through the appeal of play and sociability in the beach space, as well as through reverence of the sublime in nature. These features of the Australian beachscape have the capacity to relieve psychic tension (Freud, 2004 [1930]) and subsequently enable the beachgoer to relax
(Huntsman, 2001). In describing the influence of ‘normal’ city life on the psychic state of the modern urban dweller, Pile (2005, p165) explains that “the city, after all, [is] full of the tide and race of life ... Tossing and turning, as its nightmares and dreams take hold”. Sibley (1995, ix) states that, “The human landscape can be read as a landscape of exclusion”. In contrast to these depictions of city (culture) life, Huntsman (2001, p8) explains that,
“When we go to the beach and cross the threshold from sand to the sea, we gain
access, incomparably literal sensuous access, to that vital level of the self which is
continuous with infancy. And after we live this experience we return to the land, to the
sand, where we lie in drowsy bliss, just as the sated infant sleeps, all tension spent”.
Relaxation is attained in beachgoing through the reliving of connections with other bodies
(human and landscape), which is a connection that wanes after childhood. Interview participants, perhaps unconsciously, reflected this in their belief that the attraction of the scenic beachscape compels beach use in others – the beachscape is a landscape of inclusion
(attraction to the beach landscape is explored further in Chapter 7).
To ensure a balance of views, a demographic cross-section of beachgoers was included. An important demographic distinction is country of birth and residence. Multiple beach and risk- related studies have identified the importance of investigating people according to country of birth and residence (such as Lupton and Tulloch, 2002b Jedrzejczak, 2004; Peattie et al., 2005;
Hartley and Green, 2006; Lepp and Gibson, 2008; Anning et al., 2013). The next section reports the differences and similarities in beachgoing attitudes and behaviours between participants from various nationalities. 130
4.2.2 Country of birth and residence, and beach use
Three nationality /residency demographic groups were identified that best represent beachgoers in Australia. The three groups include:
1. Australian born residents;
2. Overseas born Australian residents / immigrant Australians; and
3. Overseas residents / overseas born visitors26.
The categories used for this thesis were, Australian born residents (group 1), which included any beachgoer who was born in Australia and lives in Australia. Overseas born Australian residents (group 2) included beachgoers who were born in a country other than Australia and later immigrated to Australia. Overseas residents / overseas born visitors (group 3) consisted of overseas born beachgoers who reside outside of Australia. The third group included tourists and holidaymakers from other countries, visiting Australia for a defined period. All beachgoers who participated in this research could be placed into one of these three groups27. Australian born residents represented the largest group in the sample (40%) followed by overseas born visitors (38%) and overseas born Australian residents (19%)28. Of the one-hundred and eighty- four questionnaire participants born overseas29, their indicated countries of birth were as follows (in descending order): England (41), Germany (25), United Kingdom (20), France (16),
Canada (14), New Zealand (10), Italy (8), USA (7), Brazil, Ireland, (6), Netherland (5), Scotland,
Wales (4), Japan (3), Denmark, Finland, India, South Africa (2), Columbia, Iceland, Indonesia,
Samoa, Spain, Tajikistan, Tonga (1).
26 The term ‘tourist’ also refers to anyone from this residency group (unless otherwise specified). 27 A fourth group was considered consisting of Australian born beachgoers whom now reside overseas, however no participants fitted this category and it was subsequently not included. 28 3% is missing due to incomplete data – i.e. some participants did not properly or entirely fill out the questionnaire. 29 126 questionnaire participants were Australian born, and 6 participants did not provide a country of birth or country of residence. 131
Reasons given for going to the beach were examined and results between residency groups were compared. Figure 4.3 illustrates that all groups determined ‘To relax’ to be the most common primary motivation for going to the beach, with over one third (37%) selecting the response across each (residency) group.
40% To relax 35% For adventure / do something different 30% To swim 25% To train / workout 20% To be with friends / hang out 15% To sunbake 10% To surf 5% Not sure, just do 0% Australian born residents Australian residents born Overseas residents n/a overseas
Figure 4.3 Preferences for beach use based on beachgoer residence and country of birth.
Analysis of the data presented in Figure 4.3 revealed the possibility that more ‘overseas residents’ go to the beach to sunbake than ‘Australian born residents’30 (this is further explored in the next chapter). No ‘immigrant Australians’ selected ‘To be with friends / hang out’ as their primary reason for beachgoing – an interesting result considering that during research interviews, immigrant Australians demonstrated behaviours consistent with efforts to assimilate into Australian (beachgoing) cultures. This is addressed later in this chapter.
30 This was the case according to the chi-square statistic (X2 = 5.11, p < 0.1) (α = 0.05). 132
Beach use frequency was also tested and results compared between residency groups. Figure
4.4 illustrates these results.
50%
45%
40%
35% Everyday 30% 3-6 times a day 25% 1-2 times a week 20% 1-2 times a month Rarely 15% Never 10%
5%
0% Australian born resident Australian resident born Overseas resident overseas
Figure 4.4 How often questionnaire participants go to the beach compared between residency groups.
Most questionnaire participants were self-confessed regular beach users with seventy-seven percent (Australian born residents), eighty-three percent (Australian residents born overseas) and seventy-two percent (Overseas residents) admitting to going to the beach at least once a week31. Overseas residents consisted of the most questionnaire participants claiming they
‘rarely’ go to the beach (23 responses), as well as the only group with a participant to claim they ‘never’ go to the beach. Despite these differences, patterns of beach use and beachgoing frequency appear consistent across the three residency groups.
31 These percentages were calculated by combining the total responses from the categories ‘Everyday’, ‘3-6 times a week’, and ‘1-2 times a week’. 133
In the following sections of this chapter, I pinpoint and decipher certain characteristics of the beachscape in Australia that contribute to a consistency in beach use observable in the high visitation frequency results illustrated in Figure 4.432. These results reflect a societal embrace of a beachgoing culture.
In the next section, I outline how the beach is theorised in text and analysis. This includes exploring the beach as a liminal zone of ambiguity that simultaneously possess the delimiting properties of clearly defined space (such as land and sea), which contribute to defining the
(human) bodies that inhabit these spaces (as cultural or natural or both). As stated in the introduction to this chapter, these theories permeate this thesis and assist in the understanding of beachscape behaviours.
32 The Australia-specific characteristics of beach appeal reported in this section might be applicable to beachscapes in other countries, although this claim is beyond the research scope of this thesis. 134
4.3 Theorising the beach space
“The beach is an anomalous category between land and sea that is neither one nor the
other but has characteristics of both. This means that it has simply too much meaning,
an excess of meaning potential, that derives from its status as anomalous” (Fiske,
1989, p43).
As an axiom, the beach can mean different things to different groups of people. The beach landscape has the potential to be perceived in a multitude of ways. “People use beaches to seek out certain kinds of meaning for themselves, meanings that help them come to terms with their off-beach, normal life-style” (Fiske, 1989, p43). These meanings are determined partly by the structure of the landscape itself, and partly by the social characteristics and discursive practices of the individual (Fiske, 1989). Reflecting on past encounters, second-hand stories and various other pre- and post-conceptions, the beach experience is highly subjective and highly spatialised – as well as being overtly social and extremely personal at the same time.
Hosking and Hosking (2009, ix) write that while “the beach may be a place of licence and freedom, a place where we disrobe and disport in each other’s company, the beach can also be a sinister and threatening place”. However, Webb (2003) explains that theorising the beach often entails an emphasis on play and hedonism whilst eliding the danger and consequent thrill of the experience. Creative practitioners on the other hand often embrace this danger, whether it is an artist capturing the light and movement of a stormed beach, or a photographer freezing in time the harsh intensity of a thundering swell,
“rarely are the beaches in stories simply safe, simply places for play; rather, they often
circulate around issues of violence and alienation, and of characters who are exposed
to themselves, to one another, to the elements” (Webb 2003, p80).
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Along with pleasure in finding freedom in the beachscape (addressed later in this chapter), is the memory of its assault on the body. The beachgoer can end up “sunburnt, sandpapered, thirsty, headachy, grumpy if still elated, and with a body reminding [them] across every centimetre of its needs [for greater comfort]” (Webb, 2003, p80). This is a reflection of just a part of the hazardous nature of the (Australian) beachscape (which is addressed in the next chapter). Webb (2003, p77) comments that “beaches and bodies go together ... because of the possibility of wildness or otherness that exists in each, beneath their groomed and guarded everyday identities”. Booth (2001, p8) remarks that “the body is the primary means by which individuals announce who they are to the world. Nowhere is this more obvious than on the beach”. Similarities and differences between people are brought to the fore at the beach due to an increased experience of the interaction between (exposed) body and environment.
The bodily ‘wildness’ experienced at the beach is also described by Webb (2003) as an indication that the beach space represents an edge, or end, of the (terrestrial) world. The beach is not a unitary or fixed thing, but liminal and contingent, demarcating zones of transition. Fiske (1989) describes it as ‘anomalous’. The beach readily serves as a series of metaphors, which include the body, but also nature and society (Webb, 2003). Fiske (1989) writes of the physically anomalous beach as a metaphor for land and sea, which symbolises culture and nature, where the embodied subject wishes to mediate such binary opposites for reasons of (psychic) comfort (discussed further in Chapter 7). This is achieved at the ‘typical’ city/suburban beach, which is an overlap of the physical structure of land/sea with the social structure of culture/nature. This creates mediated, and linear, characterisations from the physical to the socio-cultural (Figure 4.5). Fiske (1989) explains that the beachscape tends to be divided by humans into horizontal and vertical zones, yet “these zones are vague, the boundaries ill marked, if not unmarked, and consequently the meanings, the categories, leak into the other” (Fiske, 1989, p46). Whilst all beachgoers are similar in their proximity to nature,
136 as opposed to those outside of the beachscape, their closeness differs. For example, the ocean swimmer is closer to nature than the esplanade walker (Figure 4.5).
Figure 4.5 The nature-culture transitional spaces of the urban beachscape (the move from culture, the city, on the right to nature, the sea, on the left is effected through a number of zones of transition and boundary, adapted from Fiske, 1989).
Webb (2003) includes another layer to the characterisation of beaches. He posits that its potential for transformation and transmutation renders the beach as a place of magic, predicated on its liminality – liminality akin to the experience of life beyond the visible and tangible (Pile, 2005). “The anomalous status of the beach – of wild places generally – provide it an ‘other’ significance that is both its seduction and its danger” (Webb, 2003, p83). This seductiveness is discussed throughout this chapter, with associated dangers explained in the chapters to follow. The next section illustrates aspects of the beachscape that oppress or encourage its potential use, documenting the social characteristics of the beach space. These characteristics are significant in their oppressing or encouraging of beach use and any associated (risky) behaviours that may follow.
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4.4 Sociability of the inclusive and exclusive beach
This section introduces social features of the beach space that regulate beachgoer behaviour.
These features serve to attract people to the beach while allowing certain (dominant) cultural groups to create guidelines for how the beach is used, eliding those who do not comply.
A significant aspect of the beach experience is the social behaviour of play. Play is an inherent characteristic of the beach (Fiske, 1989; Stranger, 1999; Booth, 2001; Huntsman, 2001; Skinner et al., 2003; Hosking et al., 2009; Metusela and Waitt, 2012). According to Huizinga (1949, p1),
“In play there is something ‘at play’ which transcends the immediate needs of life and imparts meaning to the action. All play means something” and following on from the declaration that the fun of playing resists all analysis and all logical interpretation, Huizinga (1949, p4) explains that play is an irrational thing: “We play and know that we play, so we must be more than merely rational beings”. Huizinga (1949, p4) also states that “in culture we find play as a given magnitude existing before culture itself existed, accompanying it and pervading it from the earliest beginnings right up to the phase of civilization we are living in now”. Play is a pleasing and necessary part of human life, ever-present in society, and the beachscape is certainly an open and observable example of a playground.
As an example of beach play, Stranger (1999, p274) regards the activity of surfing as a form of play, and describes it as an act of ‘amoral hedonism’ (and could include other water-based activities, such as swimming or bodysurfing), a selfishly gratifying experience. The beachscape often represents an ex or a-social space because it successfully disarms societal restraints on public displays of hedonism associated with play that are normally present in the city, or rather, in culture (Fiske, 1989; Huntsman, 2001). Interview participants corroborate this perspective, by citing social freedom in their experiences of fun and relaxation at the beach:
138
“ ... it’s a fun social getaway I think. It’s a place to go and have fun and to be outside
and to relax” (Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
“Oh it’s so much fun. There’s so much [social] activity. There’s all these sorts of people
enjoying themselves, everyone’s smiling” (Interview 16, 16 May 2012).
“... it’s a place where you can just relax, there’s a lot less social restrictions on being
there (at the beach)” (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
Whilst societal restraints on behaviour are loosened, the beach remains a hub for social gathering and activity. The beachscape promotes socialising by deconstructing the borders that are in play in a ‘normal’ ‘city’ setting (Fiske, 1989; Booth, 2001; Huntsman 2001). Booth
(2001, p3) explains that the beach is “a sanctuary at which to abandon cares – a place to let down one’s hair, remove one’s clothes – and of uninhibited social interaction” where a usual sense of boundedness, is temporarily discarded. Drawing on object relations in psychoanalytic theory, Sibley (1995, p7) explains that the sense of borders that emerge between people in infancy is not an innate sense but a consequence of relating to others and becoming a part of
(a) culture: “This initial sense of border in the infant becomes the basis for distancing from
‘others’”. The reliving of infantile pleasures prior to psychic boundary erection is experienced in the beachscape (discussed further in Section 4.5). This enables the beach to facilitate a socially inclusive environment, as the following research participants highlighted:
“[Going to the beach:] It’s a big social activity” (Interview 29, 22 June 2012).
“It’s a good social atmosphere [at the beach]” (Interview 30, 15 August 2012).
“...the people out there [on the beach] are pretty friendly. People don’t hassle each
other very much I don’t feel [compared to in the city]” (interview 19, 17 May 2012).
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A common perception among thesis participants was that the beach is a place to be social, with one in ten questionnaire participants reporting that ‘To be with friends / hangout’ was their primary reason for going to the beach. During interviews, many participants mentioned being with friends and socialising as a source of motivation for why they go to the beach, for instance:
“[I go to the beach] usually just to hang out with friends” (Interview 20, 18 May 2012).
“[I] Love the air, the sea air, the water ... the people too” (Interview 1, 13 February
2012).
“[The beach is a place to] meet my mates, chill, [and] enjoy [myself]” (Interview 23, 24
May 2012).
The following participants link their enjoyment of the beach to the appeal of an inclusive sociability in the beachscape:
“[The beach is] interesting, with lots of people playing with one thing or another, and
it’s fun” (Interview 24, 24 May 2012).
“[I enjoy the] Recreational time with the family and friends” (Interview 11, 2 May
2012).
Interview participants’ beliefs about why other people go to the beach also indicated an acknowledgement of the socially appealing characteristics of beachgoing, for example:
“I think people go to the beach to hang out with each other, it’s a social thing”
(Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
“It can be a family outing, it can be a friend outing ... anyone can do it and enjoy
themselves while doing it” (Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
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“...it’s a social thing, it’s a non-expensive social activity that everyone enjoys”
(Interview 28, June 16 2012).
Human rationality is ‘deeply social’ (Strauss, 2008, p143), and people are drawn to the beach by the prospect of heightened sociability. A participant who outlined the importance of the beachscape for her/his family, specifically for the social requirements of her/his special needs child, demonstrates how sociability/social acceptability is amplified at the beach, whilst also providing an example of the acceptance of (some) differences in the beach space:
“We are so close to the beach [because] we’ve got a special needs boy. It helps us and
he just loves the beach ... [the increased sociability] is a good thing for him you know”
(Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
The socially inclusive beach makes it easier for the special needs child to integrate into society, because the beach presents an environment where normal dichotomous notions of disabled/non-disabled are less obvious. Moreover, Farnham and Mutrie (1997) explain that philosophies regarding the social education of children with special needs nowadays place an emphasis on situations that encourage social interaction and outdoor activities – both of which can be experienced at the beach.
Participant acknowledgement of the sociability inherent in the beach space highlights its inclusiveness. However, Sibley (1995, xi) explains:
“there are implicit rules of inclusion and exclusion in a built form that contribute to the
structuring of society and space in a way which some will find oppressive and others
appealing”.
Wilton (1998, p173) suggests:
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“because people internalize social norms as a condition for subjective becoming, their
own sense of identity is to some extent dependent upon the maintenance of
surrounding social and spatial order”.
Wilton (1998) identifies the link between alterity33 and socio-spatial order to help explain the anxiety underlying opposition to analogous groups and intolerance of difference, identified by
Sibley (1995). In the beachscape, where (different) bodies – and (different) behaviours – are on display, intolerance can come to the fore (Green, 2003; McDermott et al., 2003). The negative implications of a space that holds significant socio-historical and cultural meaning to a nation, whilst possessing a profound ability to reveal difference, was witnessed during the Australian
Cronulla riots of 2005 (Noble, 2009). The riots provide an example of how the anomalous beach is an inclusive space to some differences, such as rioters of different age and gender uniting to ‘defend’ the beach, whilst at the same time demonstrating its exclusive properties to, in the case of the riots, ethnic/cultural differences (Chapter 2, Section 2.2). Gibson (2001) describes a more harmonious scene at South Beach in Fremantle (Western Australia) that illustrates this inclusive/exclusive binary in which elderly women hold forth in Italian,
Aboriginal children chase each other through the shallows, and men in open-necked shirts with ice cream and children walk along the sand. Gibson (2001, p287) comments:
“The scene is not one to overly romanticize. A dilapidated ceramics factory standing
opposite an advancing line of smart new houses is a reminder of the changing land use
with its inevitable conflicts and tensions. But there is, despite this, something to value:
an ordinariness, an enjoyment of fairly simple pleasures combined with an acceptance
of others who, while clearly different, are doing the same”.
33 Alterity, which occurs in infancy, is the realisation that the self is ‘other’, an individual entity in the universe (Wilton, 1998) (Appendix IV). 142
Wilton (1998) explains that the boundaries people establish to distinguish ‘us’ from ‘them’ are social in nature, for example, notions of suitable bodies and behaviours imposed upon the embodied subject. The partitions between ‘us’ and ‘them’ which act out in culture are less defined in nature (Fiske, 1989). In nature, social/spatial orders are less strict, and the beachscape, as Fiske (1989) posits, is categorised as being closer to nature than the city.
This section has introduced the social features of the beach that influence the demarcating of specific bodies and behaviours. Whilst differences are highlighted at the beach, some are more accepted in the beach environment than they are in the city. Different sections of society (such as different bodies, behavioural groups, cultures, demographics etc.) are often separated into specific spaces in the city, yet they inhabit the same space in the beachscape, of course, territorialisation exists as the Cronulla riots attest. Section 4.6.3 extends what has been presented here by outlining the consequences of shared space. Chapter 7 further adds to this by reporting a discussion on how beachgoers from outside the dominant culture(s) place themselves at-risk by enacting risky beach behaviours that permit them entry into the dominant group(s).
The next section overviews what contributes to the appeal of the beach as an extension of the social features presented in this section. The concept of ‘play’ is reapproached in the context of how it adds to the beach’s appeal. Other contributors to a general appeal of the beach explained in the following section include enjoyment of the beach through childlike engagements with play, feelings of health and wellbeing derived from being in a natural
(beach) environment, and engaging the natural sublime of the beach space.
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4.5 The appealing beach
The beach sits outside the normal rules of society that govern acceptable behaviour. It is
“during playful moments [such as those that occur at the beach] that we are most true to ourselves, according to Freud: ‘Man (sic) is only complete when he plays’” (Huntsman, 2001, p10). This section employs cultural, social and psychoanalytic explanations of the embodied beach experience, which is often associated with play, to unpack what is often considered the almost universal appeal of the beach. This appeal can transcend social or cultural backgrounds as beachgoers enjoy a range of activities. Investigating what attracts people to the beach is later drawn on to justify why behaviours that are not normally observed in society, such as risk-taking, are readily observed at the beach. The concept of ‘play’ (Huizinga, 1949) is considered as a factor in the beach’s appeal. For Freud (2004 [1930]) it is the reliving of carnal joys experienced in infancy. Attraction to the natural sublime similarly contributes to the beach’s appeal (Burke, 1792), and will be explained later in Section 4.5.3. The narratives provided by research participants for this thesis are used to account for how these concepts constitute the appeal of the beach.
Quoting Drewe (1993), Webb (2003, p81) interprets the beach as a site for “the ambivalence of pleasure and pain”, a space committed to physical engagement. Here, the body is of particular interest as the centre of perception, because as Webb (2003) stipulates, subjectivity is experienced differently at the beach. This is because people perceive the world through their bodies (i.e. the embodied subject, as explicated in phenomenology, Smith et al., 2009,
Chapter 3, Section 3.4), and the beach space has influence on this experience. Explaining how the embodied subject reacts to the social world, Pile (1996, p168) writes:
“embodied subjects place themselves into topographies of meaning, identity and
power which value certain aspects of bodies and subjectivity more highly than others:
people are expected to be and behave along lines sanctioned by society.” 144
The embodied subject must repress unacceptable or dangerous impulses in order to be socially acceptable, or ‘civilised’. Pile (1996) writes that the repression people experience due to societal demands entails that subjects (i.e. people) learn to read themselves from reflections they see in a hall of mirrors in which they are placed (i.e. society), producing identities best understood as masquerades (Pile, 1996). Lacan’s Imaginary register, referred to as the mirror stage in childhood development, asserts that human beings desire the mastery ascribed to an idealised reflection of the self, however within ‘normal’ society, this imaginary reflection is unobtainable and a source of psychic grief (Appendix IV). Conversely, the ‘entrancing surround’, as Huntsman (2001) puts it, experienced at the beach, provides a pure example of
‘surrender to the melting, flowing moment’, that potentially frees the beachgoer of (some) psychic grief. In other words, the beach provides opportunity for people to interact (with the environment and each other) free of the usual lines sanctioned by society that demand and restrict certain behaviours. This is considered in depth in Chapter 7 in relation to risky behaviours.
The experience of ‘surrender’, a mixture of calm and carefree relaxation with joyful playfulness
(Huntsman, 2001), was observed in the ways that research participants described their reason(s) for going to the beach. Half the beachgoers interviewed for this thesis mentioned the word ‘relax’ in their response to the question ‘Why do you go to the beach?’ with many attributing their feeling of calm or relaxation to a beachscape activity, for example:
I find it relaxing and peaceful and beautiful ... and it’s fun (Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
The above quoted participant notes the link between fun (resulting from play) and relaxation.
This is explored shortly. The following participants displayed similar attitudes:
“Oh gosh so many reasons: it’s relaxing, fun in the water...” (Interview 7, 22 March
2012).
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“To relax, have fun, go in the water” (Interview 4, 6 March 2012).
“Relaxation, I find going for a surf clears my head [and I get] a nice healthy kind of
tiredness” (Interview 2, 27 February 2012).
These participants singled out playing or engaging with activity in the water/surf as the source of their relaxation. The following interview participant asserted that there was a multitude of relaxation sources to be found in the beachscape.
Overall, I’d say it’s relaxing. Whether you’re going for a walk, going for a swim,
whether you’re going to just lie on the beach, all those things are just soothing
(Interview 5, 21 May 2012).
Huntsman (2001) describes this capturing of the ebb and flow between fragile individual existence and a hurtful (potentially harmful) entrancing surround as the fundamental appeal of the beach. Two seemingly contradictory sensory experiences – relaxation and (risky) play – meld and flow at the site of the beach.
4.5.1 Play and enjoyment at the beach
During research interviews for this thesis, participant explanations about why they go to the beach, and in particular their attempts to express why they like the beach, was at times akin to
Proudfoot’s (2010) account of football fans attempts to express enjoyment through dialogue.
Proudfoot’s (2010) subjects would give uncomfortable verbal constructions of enjoyment when trying to explain why they liked the World Cup. For this thesis, the majority (83%) of interview participants responded to the question ‘Why do you go to the beach?’ with “Umm”
146 or “I don’t know...” followed then by a common ‘to relax’ response34. Using the Lacanian psychoanalytic concept of jouissance35, Proudfoot (2010) explored how enjoyment is partially extradiscursive, because it resits symbolisation and disappears when articulated and represented through speech. “When one attempts to represent or mediate enjoyment through signification [verbal expression], it loses the very quality, the surplus that made it enjoyable in the first place” (Proudfoot, 2010, p510). Proudfoot (2010) asserts that psychoanalytic attempts to grasp enjoyment methodologically must be attentive to not only how subjects represent their enjoyment through discourse but also to the enactment of enjoyment itself. I posit that enjoyment at the beach is manifest within a play-relax frame.
Huizinga’s (1949) concept of Homo Ludens or ‘Man (sic) the Player’ echoes the sentiments that interview participants gave of their experiences of play at the beach. Huizinga (1949) contests that even in its simplest form, play is more than a mere physiological phenomenon or psychological reflex – it is a significant function. According to Huizinga (1949), this is because one of the most important characteristics of play is its separation from ordinary life. “Play marks itself off from the course of the natural process ... It is something added thereto and spread out over it like a flowering, an ornament, a garment” (Huizinga, 1949, p7). Beachgoers receive a pleasant diversion from everyday life, a joy that is as cathartic as it is vital to psychic well-being (Huizinga, 1949; Huntsman, 2001). The way interview participants described the beach as a place of escape was testament to this, for example:
It takes you away from being indoors and it takes you away from being at home or it
takes you away from work (Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
It’s just a good place to escape (Interview 30, 15 August 2012).
34 ‘To relax’, or a similar response (such as ‘chill’ or ‘zone-out’) was recorded in half of the face-to-face interviews. For the questionnaires, ‘To relax’ was the most selected reason for going to the beach (36%). 35 In Lacanian psychoanalytic theory, jouissance is a pleasure that is excessive, leading to a sense of being overwhelmed, yet simultaneously providing a source of fascination (Fink, 1996). 147
And an example of what it is that is indirectly related to escape:
“...it’s an enjoyable change of routine” (Interview 24, 24 May 2012).
And a sense of freedom was often noted:
“...it’s a tranquil place to be. There’s something about the open space at the beach, I
feel a bit free and relaxed” (Interview 7, 22 March 2012).
“There’s a lot of people who go to a beach in their super skimpy bikinis or board shorts
and don’t even go in the water. So it’s not necessarily the water that’s the attraction,
it’s the location and that sense of freedom” (Interview 14, 15 May 2012).
Huntsman (2001) remarks that beachgoing supplements the other compensations that life offers and that help to assuage the universal and inconsolable grief that arises through the psychically devastating identification process of alterity. For example, participants often utilised the beach to ease the turmoil this produces:
...it’s just a great place to be. I mean it’s a great place to relax, take your mind off
things. That’s where I usually go if I’m stressed out at home or work or something, I just
go and sit by the beach; it’s just little things like that (Interview 17, 17 May 2012).
...it’s just an all-round relax and good feeling of wellbeing (Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
...you know, the beach to me, it calms me (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
...there’s that certain sense of serenity and the calm that goes with it [by being at the
beach] (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
Freud (2004 [1930]) likens notions of ‘limitlessness’ and ‘oneness with the universe’ – akin to experiences of serenity and calm expressed by the above quoted research participants – to feelings he termed ‘oceanic’. These feelings manifest through the individual’s memory of the
148 ego before its separation in childhood (i.e. before the devastation of alterity) when the ego had a more intimate bond with the world around it36. The beach therefore holds potent meaning for people irrespective of culture, since it has a capacity to invite the reliving of the early carnal joy and satisfaction of the id experienced in infancy (Huntsman, 2001). The beachscape in this regard acts as a site where the instinctual seeking of pleasure (driven by the id and the pleasure principle as they operate in childhood) can occur. Huntsman (2001, p10) alludes to this stating, “The intrinsic eroticism of beach activity is manifest in its playfulness”.
4.5.2 Feelings of health and well-being at the beach
Writing on the subject of experiencing dispossession in the beachscape, of ‘being-in-the-body’ not especially conscious during childhood, Webb (2003, p81) recalls the beach as a “sense of decultured delight; being alone and unregulated; and most of all, being disconnected from the highly structured and sheltered symbolic world that [is] normally inhabited”. Going to the beach allows the (partial) reliving of the unadulterated infantile pleasures that are suppressed and lorded over by the ego and superego in adulthood (described in Appendix IV). The extent to which these pleasures are relived at the beach depends on the individual. For example, the nudist beach user uninhibited and unclothed like a young child, is more at odds with culture and arguably closer to nature than the specifically dressed beach(side) jogger (Green, 2003).
“This disguise of nature by culture occurs at the level of creating taboos relating to the age and size of appropriate bodies ([however,] pre-pubescent children are OK)” (Green, 2003, p126).
This is due to the uncanny form of the naked post-pubescent body37. Further to this point, disrobing (down to swimwear) at the beach has become a principal source of social status
36 Prior to the onset of the reality principle (i.e. alterity) and governed only by the pleasure principle, the mind is at relative harmony because it can be gratified without psychic harm. In this early stage (of infancy), the subject and the world are perceived as one entity (Freud, 2004 [1930]) (Appendix IV). 37 To reiterate, the uncanny refers to something that is unsettling at the same time that it implies the reappearance of something that is familiar but has been concealed (Royle, 2003). 149 where consumer culture has turned the beach body into a symbol for a ‘valued’ life (Booth
2001; Metusela and Waitt, 2012). The clothed beachgoer – no matter how revealing of the body the costume might be – is closer to culture (opposing nature) because the robing adheres to and performs the identities of a member of society, whereas the nudist is childlike in their proximity to nature (Metusela and Waitt, 2012). The scant or unclothed beachgoer, motivated by an intention to tan or parade, is closer to culture through the display of a symbolised beach body (discussed further in Chapter 7). The beachscape does permit the user to perceive themself as closer to nature, if they so desire.
Being closer to nature, which is representative of being in/near the beachscape, has a range of positive effects that were also perceived by research participants. These effects act as motivation not only to be near nature in the form of beachgoing, but also to live near it, as the following interview participant believed:
“The reason you’d move to the beach as opposed to living in [an inner city suburb of
Sydney] where we used to live, [is] you feel like you’re healthier here. You’ve only got to
go down to [the beach] any given day when it’s raining – there’s plenty of people
running along and people get out more” (Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
A number of participants expressed a similar sentiment of feeling healthier when they were within/close to the beachscape, for instance:
It’s just a nice area to enjoy and just take in the fresh air you know – it gives you a lot of
health benefits (Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
It’s a general all-round feeling of wellbeing. (Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
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We’d be in the rock pool 38each morning before we did anything else because I mean
it’s superb you know, and you feel great (Interview 24, 24 May 2012).
The following participant believed health benefits were a principal reason for why the beach appeals to other people:
I think people link the beach to a healthy lifestyle. They feel that it makes them feel
healthy, that would be my guess. Some people go for exercise. Some people go, I would
say, to feel healthier (Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
Participants felt healthy in the beachscape, whilst at the same time knowing that risks were present. This has implications relating to risk attenuation and the false perception of safety in the beach space (discussed later in this thesis in Chapter 7), for example, this participant’s disregard for the threat of skin cancer:
“...overall I think the health effects [of going to the beach] are very good despite all the
government marketing related to skin cancer and all the other negative side effects”
(Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
There are a number of contributing factors to why people might perceive going to the beach or being in the beachscape to be a healthy practice. For example, an objective positive effect of moderate sunlight exposure has been found to exist, with links discovered between a lack of sunlight and vitamin D deficiency (Reichrath, 2006) (Chapter 2, Section 2.4.1). Participants acknowledged a belief in the positive effects of sunlight exposure citing its importance for vitamin production as part of their attraction to the beach, and used these as excuses for risking skin cancer, for example:
“The sun gives you vitamin D, which you do need” (Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
38 Rock pools are human-made pools built into the rocks and headlands of some beaches around Australia. They are filled and continuously inundated with seawater via ocean swells. 151
“The second [positive effect of beachgoing] is to feel the warmth of the sun on the skin.
It’s a nice sensation and has a huge relaxing effect, and it effects the production of
vitamins, which is common knowledge these days” (Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
“[I do] enjoy the vitamins given from the sun” (Interview 23, 24 May 2012).
A common response to sunlight exposure was the attraction of tanning. In their research on tanning practices among young adults, McDermott et al. (2003, p95) noted that, “supporting the social value placed on tanned skin was an evolving discourse of the health benefits of possessing a suntanned body”. The popularity of suntanning, and a public perception that rests on a belief that tanning is a normal/acceptable practice, is explored in Chapters 5 and 7.
A number of participants simply mentioned the word ‘sun’ when asked to explain their (and other beachgoer’s) reasons for going to the beach39. This revealed a somewhat hard to articulate/intangible positive feeling for the participant (akin to Proudfoot’s, 2010 account,
Section 4.5.1). For example, the following participant argued for the positive effects of exposure to sunlight over the known negatives of the sunlight hazard, which seems to have manifested into a form of denial on behalf of the beachgoer with regard to personal risk- taking:
“... the sunlight has a huge positive effect. I believe it makes people more positive ... to
feel the warmth of the sun on the skin – it’s a nice sensation and has a huge relaxing
effect. When it comes to swimming on the beach, I’m aware of the sun and its potential
(for) skin cancer and all sorts of stuff. I think that the positive effects outweigh the
negatives, thirty to one” (Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
A feeling of wellbeing that is elicited through a connection to the sun and the landscape is a previously documented phenomenon. For example, in their research on psychological
39 When participants mentioned ‘sun’ it was often in tandem with ‘sand’ and/or ‘surf’. The signification of this trilogy is discussed later in this chapter. 152 restoration and restorative environments, Hartig et al. (1996) reported that the natural environment engenders generally more positive emotions compared with an urban environment. Similarly, van den Berg et al. (2003) observed that viewing natural environments
(as opposed to urban environments) elicits greater improvements in mood and concentration, helping to substantiate the adaptive function of people’s environmental preferences. The beachscape was similarly observed to act in this manner for many thesis participants – as the quotes above affirm. This serves to attract beachgoing and a lack of concern about the perils of sunlight exposure. Another aspect of the appeal of the natural environment of the beach is introduced and described in the following subsection.
4.5.3 The sublime beachscape
Stranger (1999) identified an attraction to the natural landscape in a study that focused on the appeal of the beachscape activity of surfing. Drawing on the philosophers Kant (1952) and
Burke (1792), Stranger (1999) remarks that, “the surfing aesthetic involves a postmodern incarnation of the sublime that distorts rational risk assessment”. The ‘sublime’ Stranger
(1999) is referring to is what Burke (1792) theorised as the sensation attributed to the dual emotional quality of fear and attraction. As the body and mind are eased in the beachscape, relaxed by their encounter with the landscape and tensions are allayed by memories of infantile pleasures, the individual can become overwhelmed by a sense of astonishment, admiration, reverence and respect for the natural landscape (Burke, 1792). Describing the experience of the sublime in nature, Burke (1792, p79) illustrates this form of beachscape appeal:
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“The passion caused by the great and sublime in nature, when those causes operate
most powerfully, is astonishment; and astonishment is that state of the soul, in which
all its motions are suspended, with some degree of horror.”
Experiencing the sublime in nature induces a kind of self-forgetfulness where fear is replaced by a sense of security and well-being when confronted with an object exhibiting superior might
(Burke, 1792). With its potential for intimidation and awe, the ‘infinite’ ocean and (often) powerful surf imbue the witness with notions of pain and death as well as affirming mortal obscurity (Burke, 1792). Twenty-two out of thirty interview participants acknowledged at least once the dangers of, or a sense of fear induced by, large surf or adverse weather conditions in the beachscape, for example:
I just respect big waves (Interview 3, 2 March 2012).
I’m really afraid of waves (Interview 4, March 6 2012).
The following interview participants demonstrate the lure of the sublime beachscape:
...it (big surf) is cool to watch, but dangerous as well (Interview 2, 27 February 2012).
...it (big surf) felt kind of enlightening in a certain sense. That was the first experience
I’ve ever had where nature is stronger than I am. It kind of made me feel a bit small
compared to all sorts of stuff out there. That was actually a hugely positive experience
realising that (Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
Another participant also spoke of confronting the sublime:
...it doesn’t look so big, but once you get out there and it’s on top of you, you feel it
(Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
‘Big surf/rough conditions’ was considered by questionnaire participants to be the fourth most frightening thing to encounter at the beach (Chapter 5). Burke (1792, p93, 95) writes, “I know 154 of nothing sublime, which is not some modification of power”, and, “power derives all its sublimity from the terror with which it is generally accompanied”. This is evident at the beach when large swells descend on the coast, observable by the number of people that can be seen flocking to view, hear and feel the ocean roar (Figures 4.6).
Figure 4.6 Beachgoers gathered at Dee Why headland in Sydney to view storm swells (some beachgoers are seen filming or photographing the empty (as in absent of people) waves). (Source: Todd Walton, June 2012)
Ford (2009, p 21) outlines that the “romantic appeal of the beach lay in its capacity on a wild day to arouse sensations of the power and awe of God”, affirming mortal obscurity in the face of the natural sublime and demonstrating the appeal of a large surf swell (Burke, 1792). A ferocious swell will also invoke a different kind of appeal, which belongs to the surfer. This appeal is derived from the act of confronting a large wave – an act that can engender positive feelings in the actor, illustrated by the quotes above. The big-wave surfer will seek out the
155 sublime swell, relishing the risks and sensations that accompany riding the awe-inspiring wave
(Stranger, 1999, 2011). Anderson (2013b, p239) takes this further by describing the experiential interaction between surfer and wave as “so powerful a feeling it has the capacity to rupture prevailing norms and orthodoxies for those who experience it”. This engenders a sense of ‘flow’ in the big wave rider40 (Stranger, 1999; Anderson, 2013a, 2013b). The sublime in nature (evident in a large surf swell) is seductive, either in its viewing by the everyday person, or in its conquering by the surfer.
The lure of the beachscape, its influence on visitors, and its presence in the landscape, has had a palpable impact on Australia’s societal and cultural development. The next section of this chapter explores how the unique Australian beachscape influenced research participants and how it influences beachgoing in this country. This includes a discussion of the impact that the psychoanalytical phenomena of childhood encounters with the beach has on beachgoing, and how these experiences contribute to the specific appeal of the Australian beach.
40 ‘Flow’ is described as a state of joy, creativity and total involvement, in which problems seem to disappear and there is an exhilarating feeling of transcendence (Csikszentmihalyi, 2013). 156
4.6 Perceptions of the Australian beachscape
Participant perceptions of the beach captured during thesis interviews were drawn on to assess the significance of the beach in Australian society. It is argued that the significant position the beach holds in Australian society influences perceptions regardless of the varying meanings the beach engenders in each individual. Whilst individual experience matters, this thesis is concerned with how each experience contributes to an overarching explication of why people behave the way they do in the Australian beach space.
The first subsection identifies the appeal of the beach specifically in Australia. The popularity of the beach and its significance to certain cultural groups has consequences, which are also discussed in the first subsection section. This is followed by an account of the ways people attach to, and draw meaning from, the Australian beach.
4.6.1 The appeal of beachgoing in Australia through a socio-cultural lens
Recapping on the themes outlined so far in this chapter, beaches in general are subjectively perceived, yet appease anthropological proclivities of play and pleasure whilst alleviating psychic tensions by somewhat permitting satisfaction of the infantile desires of the id (Freud,
2004 [1930]; Huizinger, 1949). The Australian beachscape also provides ample opportunity to appreciate and engage with the sublime in nature, whilst also encouraging sociability by deconstructing ‘normal’ social behaviour guidelines (Burke, 1792; Fiske, 1989; Webb, 2003).
Theorising the significance of the beach in Australia, Perera (2009, p1) remarks that, “what constitutes and defines Australia is not ground, as terrestrial land mass, but rather the variable element that envelopes and overlaps it”. Manthorpe (2009, p279) explains that in Australia the sea figures little in our imaginations and the ocean is not one of our defining national symbols, stating, “the beach is not the sea. Nor does the surf represent much of the ocean. Our culture 157 loves the coast for all its transitional possibilities, but this littoral place is where the ocean ends”. Manthorpe (2009, p279) writes that, “when we go to our beaches, we are celebrating not only the land’s end, but also the end of the sea”. In this regard, Australian society celebrates its containment by sea because the island of Australia, surrounded by the oceans and beaches, possess an abundance of opportunity for escape from what Webb (2003) describes as the structured and sheltered world of ‘normal’ inhabitancy. It is easy to visit the beach in Australia, and this contributes to the beach’s appeal.
What many Australians believe separates the Australian beachscape from others is the particular aesthetic appeal of Australia’s beaches. The following participants described the visual and climatic appeal of beaches in Australia:
“The eastern coast [of Australia] has to be one of the most [visually] amazing places in
the world” (Interview 19, 17 May 2012).
“It’s beautiful, I don’t really know of an Australian beach that isn’t beautiful. Our
water’s pretty clean, swimmable, surfable, I mean we’ve got the weather and the
climate for it, it’s perfect to just go” (Interview 7, 22 March 2012).
“... it’s so beautiful ... [going to the beach is] just a really nice way to pass the day. And
we do have beautiful beaches, and when it’s stinking hot, it’s the place to be”
(Interview 18, 17 May 2012).
The last two participants quoted above acknowledge the suitableness of going to the beach in the context of Australia’s climate. Another participant believed the aesthetic appeal of the
Australian beach is attributable to feelings of calm experienced in the beachscape:
“The Australian beaches are fantastic ... they’ve got great views and there’s that
certain sense of serenity and the calm that goes with it” (Interview 14, 15 May 2012).
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This participant demonstrates emotions that are aroused during engagements with the sublime in nature. Being surrounded by the ocean and often-intense surf swells, Australian beaches appeal to people wanting to witness/encounter the power of nature (Figure 4.6,
Section 4.5.3). Webb (2003, p79) explains that:
“when we face the expanse of the ocean – [a] dangerous exquisite empty expanse
which will not sustain human life – we have exposure to pleasure in the relief from
everyday responsibilities, and we also have exposure to the terror and joy of the
sublime”.
The beachgoer’s experience of the sublime in nature is not exclusive to the Australian beachscape. However, the popularity and ease of access to beach use in Australia permits a readily available way to experience the sublime. The fear aspect of the sublime experience is particularly common on Australia’s higher energy coastlines (Chapter 2, Section 2.2). One interview participant, who was a tourist, described a frightening experience in the beachscape brought about by large surf. The participant believed these types of experiences not only influence beach users but also influence the collective psyche of Australian society:
“[Experiencing fear of large surf] did put me off a bit but at the same time it felt kind of
enlightening in a certain sense. That was the first experience I’ve ever had where
nature is stronger than I am. It kind of made me feel a bit small compared to nature.
That was actually a hugely positive experience. [Australians tend to] hang tight and
there’s more of this group mentality where people help and are more friendly to each
other. In other countries people have this more negative attitude towards other people
and I was thinking that it must somehow be related to all the waves and the ocean and
all this phenomena happening in nature and the fact [nature is] stronger than we are –
it must have some sort of effect on Australian culture” (Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
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This participant believed that experiencing fear induced by dangerous surf has the effect of engendering kinship among beachgoers and Australian society in general. The participant believed these experiences enlighten and bind Australians together.
One interview participant of Australian residence professed a particular dislike for the beach.
Explaining why the beach appalled her/him so, s/he stated:
“I don’t know too much sand. I work outdoors so the last place I want to be is at the
beach ... now I only go to the beach because the kids want to go ... you say: ‘beach’ and
I say: ‘fuck that, I’d rather go swim in a water hole somewhere’” (Interview 25, 28 May
2012).
When asked her/his belief about why others go to the beach the same interview participant replied:
“Well tourists would have to go because we [have] got the best beaches in the world,
haven’t we?”
This response by someone with no apparent interest in beachgoing illustrates the common belief (amongst Australian residents in particular) in the attractive aesthetic of the Australian beach landscape. The participant’s response also exhibited a sense of nationalistic pride in their statement. These sentiments are explored shortly in Section 4.6.4.
In a study of beach use and preferences in Australia, Maguire et al. (2011) reported that
Australian coastal residents extensively used and valued the coast, regularly using their local beach, but also travelling hundreds or thousands of kilometres to visit distant beaches.
Huntsman (2001, p166) states:
“The overwhelming presence of the natural landscape connects with a profound and
passionate attachment to the land felt by many Australians. If pressed to define their
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love of country, it is a fair bet that many Australians would place affection for their
physical environment above regard for their fellow-citizens or a chauvinistic national
superiority”.
From the thesis interviews, participants of Australian residence believed that overseas tourists were similarly motivated to visit Australia’s aesthetically pleasing beaches. For example:
“[Australia’s beaches are] a high drawing point for people visiting Australia. It’s a
beauty that they obviously can’t experience in other areas” (Interview 28, 18 June
2012).
‘Depending on where they’re from ... a lot of tourists don’t have beaches or not
beaches of the same quality ... Australian beaches are kind of renowned for being great
places” (Interview 30, 15 August 2012).
Interview participants who were born overseas expressed the same sentiment (about enjoying
Australia’s visually pleasing beaches) when explaining their attraction, or reason for coming, to
Australia, for example:
“I think they’re more natural beaches. That’s why I moved to Australia, for that. And
when I’m going to be in Australia I’m going to be as close to the beach as I can because
I like the lifestyle ... I mean Australia is just synonymous with the sunshine and the
beach (Interview 9, 19 April 2012).
“[I] just think they’re phenomenal, I mean most [Australia’s beaches] I’ve encountered,
in and out of the water” (Interview 10, 1 May 2012).
“There’s extremely nice beaches in Australia, they are truly magnificent” (Interview 27,
30 May 2012).
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“Beaches in general in Australia are beautiful, they are very great beaches” (Interview
3, 2 March 2012).
One overseas resident commented on their satisfaction regarding the large selection of beaches in Australia, for example:
“What I really like about Australia is that you have so many options, I think it’s great ...
I mean we have some nice beaches [in Germany] but it’s totally different ... Australia’s
surrounded by water” (Interview 4, March 6 2012).
Many interview participants mentioned climate or weather as an important factor contributing to their use of the beach and to what they perceived as the ideal image of Australia’s beach lifestyle. The climatic conditions in Australia contribute to the frequency of its beach use – as previously observed (by Huntsman 2001; Kim and Agrusa, 2005; Zhang and Wang, 2012) (also in Table 4.1). In addition, many research participants considered their own beachgoing to be exclusively weather dependent41. ‘Sun, sand and surf’, a trilogy of words often mentioned in succession to describe the appeal of the Australian beach, is interpreted as reference to the importance of Australia’s climate –specifically the sun. Three interview participants (all of
Australian birth and residence) expressly stated ‘sun, sand and surf’ in their response to the question, ‘Why do you think people, including Australians and tourists, go to the beach in
Australia?’ Commentating on Australia’s beachgoing heritage, Dutton (1985) and Booth (2001), title their books, ‘Sun, Sea, Surf and Sand – The Myth of the Beach’ and ‘Australian Beach
Cultures: The History of Sun, Sand and Surf’, respectively. ‘Sun, sand and surf’ is used by
Australians to express the appeal/importance of the beach in Australian society.
The appeal of the beach in Australia has been described as hedonistic, where going to the beach predominately occurs in the pursuit of leisure, pleasure and indolence (Huntsman,
41 Amongst interview participants, 7 (out of 30) expressly stated that their beach use was strictly weather dependent. 162
2001). Although, in opposition to a Sydney Morning Herald caption that reads: “‘Rampant hedonism ... cooling off at Bondi yesterday’”, Huntsman (2001, p218) alternatively remarks:
“Rampant hedonism? Or a sensible thing to do on a hot day?” The corporeal benefit of
Australian beach use was corroborated by the following participants:
“... when it’s stinking hot it’s the place to be” (Interview 18, 17 May 2012).
“It’s just a good place to escape the heat” (Interview 30, 15 August 2012).
Huntsman (2001) writes that a society contained within a continent and occupied by a single nation-state strengthens social cohesion through shared experiences of the beach. These experiences are available to all regardless of culture or demographic. People may use the beach in Australia for different reasons and in varying amounts, but the appeal of beachgoing is universal. In Australia, when the weather is right, the ‘sun, sand and surf’ beckon.
On a hot day in Australia, the beachscape is embraced by many. On a cool, cloudy day lashed by wind or rain, beachgoing is stymied for certain groups, whilst other groups somewhat revel in the conditions. For example, the surfer is less concerned with nice weather than how suitable the waves are. A rainy day does not diminish the surfer’s pursuit of pleasure, it may add to it by lessening the crowds or improving the aesthetic. In other words, sunshine is not the determining factor for beach use (Stranger, 1999; Diehm and Armatas, 2004). Overseas born visitors similarly appeared to be less particular about the weather when it came to beach use, with some claiming they were not deterred by less than ideal or wintery conditions, for example:
“I go even when it [is] not a sunny day ... more often here [in Australia]” (Interview 23,
25 May 2012).
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“Even though Aussies don’t go to the beach at this time of the year, coming from where
I come from people go to the beach if it’s like 21 degrees. So from my perspective it’s
still ok [i.e. warm enough to enjoy]” (Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
Australian born beach users tended to take the beach for granted by only visiting on days that were consistent with the ‘sun, sand and surf’ ideal:
“I do love the beach but it’s like anything, when you live so close you don’t tend to
always go” (Interview 13, 2 May 2012).
White (2009, p1) describes how Australians imagine beachgoing:
“We [Australians] share, with reasonable unanimity, an image of the typical Australian
beach holiday, marked by long lazy days of vacancy, the sounds of children and surf,
the smell of barbeques and sun-screen, the exquisite sensations of sunburn and sand
between the toes”.
Overseas born beach users were less concerned with ideal beachgoing conditions, and this was largely due to the relatively consistent congenial beachgoing conditions on offer in Australia compared with other countries, for example:
“There are [beaches in Germany] but you can’t compare [them to Australia’s]. They’re
cold and the water isn’t that nice and even the surf isn’t that great [in Germany]”
(Interview 3, 2 March 2012).
“I think coming from the UK I’ve got a good appreciation of [Australian beaches] ... it’s
bloody freezing [in the UK]. You might get a couple of weeks where you want to go in
the sea – if you do, you freeze” (Interview 9, 19 April 2012).
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Having experienced beachgoing in Australia for a number of years, the Australian born beachgoer tends to be more influenced by beachgoing conditions. Of the seven interview participants who reported their beachgoing as weather dependent, five were Australian born.
In the next subsection, I discuss how the appeal of the beach in Australia is largely attributable to the behavioural freedom that beachgoers perceive and experience. This freedom is considered to have evolved from Australia’s (contemporary European) position as an island nation that is relatively isolated from the rest of the world.
4.6.2 Freedom through isolation
A key constituent in the appeal of beachgoing in Australia is that beaches are freely available for enjoyment (Huntsman, 2001).The following interview participant believed that the opportunity to observe the ‘iconic’ beauty of Australian beaches is attributable to a sense of freedom experienced at the beach:
“[Going to the beach is] quite iconic in Australia ... it represents the freedom we have
here, it’s just such a beautiful environment (Interview 15, 15 May 2012).
Taylor (2009, p111) remarks that “the beach remains unrivalled as a weekend and holiday destination; going to the beach is widely regarded as integral to Australian lifestyle and closely associated with sunshine, freedom and leisure”. For many participants freedom, in the context of the beach, included access. This can be attributed to a set of key features including
Australia’s ‘egalitarian’ society, which promotes sharing of the nation’s common wealth including its natural environment (Booth, 2001; Huntsman 2001; Speartitt, 2003). The fact beaches are public property and cannot be ceded to private ownership also contributes to a sense of freedom, as does the number of beaches in Australia – there are literally thousands of kilometres of scenic beaches most of which are people-less (or secret) and accessible to 165 anyone with a car (Booth, 2001; Huntsman 2001; Speartitt, 2003). Ellison (2011, p3) explains,
“Beaches are areas open to all ages, genders, ethnicities ... because it is a public space, the beach superficially seems to belong to all Australians and this is how the space is used”.
Hosking and Hosking (2009) note that Australia and Russia are the only nations that look out on three of the world’s great oceans. In contrast to Russia however, Australia is an island, with the majority of its population settled along its coastline. It is geographically isolated from the rest of the world (Calvert et al., 2006). Perth, the only major city on the west coast of Australia, is the most isolated capital city in the world with its closest neighbour Adelaide in South
Australia almost three thousand kilometres away (Jarrett, 1992). Isolation has resulted in a sense of freedom and comfortably isolated containment that few other societies could profess to experience (O’Gorman, 2007). Huntsman (2001, p170) explains,
“No country could wish for its territory to be more unambiguously outlined ... All
Australians share this reality of containment. Wherever we go we eventually run up
against an edge, which is mostly also a beach”.
Australia’s relative isolation from other countries has allowed the development of socio- cultural norms that are unique (O’Gorman, 2007). Freedom therefore includes a sense of defined space without the threat of significant change from ‘the other’. An extension to this cultural playpen is the socio-cultural norms that people adhere to at the beach, which includes how beachgoers should behave. These norms tend to be re-produced by beachgoers who have extensive experience in the cultural playpen of Australia. This is further explored in Chapter 7.
In the next subsection, I discuss how images of the Australian beach are written onto the
Australian cultural psyche, and how memories of the beach shape beachgoing patterns and preferences. This is to help understand why Australian born beachgoers may choose to seek out ‘ideal’ beach conditions or reproduce ‘ideal’ beach behaviours.
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4.6.3 Memories of the beach and their influence on behaviour
An interiorised repository exists in the psyche within which memories of the beach can be understood as socio-historically and culturally constructed configurations. In narratives about the Australian beachscape, authors often illustrate how the beach is constructed in memory by describing in detail their own experiences of the beach during childhood. Initial encounters with the Australian beachscape are often used as introductions to these narratives of
Australian beach life and history, reflexively framing the author’s position as being a part of the culture. These self-accounts are interpretative phenomenological analyses of personal experience, where minute details of the experience are covered in the story telling (as explained in Chapter 3, Section 3.4). For example, Bratton (1997) writes:
“It was as close to heaven as a young girl could get to be riding along with the smell of
fresh bread assailing my nostrils, the sound of waves breaking on shore, the warm sun
on my face and the melodious song of the cur-rawongs or the cackle of kookaburras
ringing in the air”.
Booth (2001, preface) offers:
“At Torquay I learned to swim – poorly – and to surf – competently. I recall the first
time I stood up on a surfboard, and the first board I could call my own, a Christmas
present from my parents. From Torquay I also discovered the enchantment of the
natural world and the mesmerizing power of the sea”.
Skinner, Gilbert and Edwards (2003) each provide flashbacks describing where and when the beach began to influence their behaviours and thoughts. One flashback describes the following scene, whilst also mentioning the reliving of childhood joy (discussed in Section 4.5):
“The summer of our childhood was spent ‘on the beach’, body bashing, sand fighting,
castle making, beach footy and cricket. As my twin brother and I became teenagers, 167
our attention turned to the ‘beach babes’. Summer romances and sunburn followed by
the long sad trip home. Had we been to paradise, was it all a dream? From that early
beginning, it was inevitable that I would end up living by the sea. Each day I revisit the
sheer joy of my youth as I drive by the sea on my way to work”.
Having lived the emotional and sensory responses produced by the Australian beach experience, the beach’s potency for attachment becomes apparent and detailed memories of these experiences are formed. As Skinner et al. (2003) state, these memories illustrate the influence of the enjoyable things in life. They also illustrate how the Australian beach space is dynamic and expressive, influencing the developing psyche in childhood (Kingsbury, 2009b).
Memories of the beach etched during infancy manifest in adulthood through attachment, as illustrated above by Skinner et al. (2003)42. Huntsman (2001, p1) writes, “The beach looms large in my memories of growing up”. Quoting historian Lyndall Ryan, Costello (2009, p288) remarks that “she is a saltwater person ... She prefers to live close to the coast because she was made by the sea and the shore ... Almost all her special places are seamarks...”.
Most Australians take attachment to the beach as an innate reflex of being Australian
(Huntsman, 2001) (as described in Chapter 2, Section 2.3). Some Australian born interview participants spoke of the attachment that they (and other Australians) felt for the beachscape when explaining why they go to the beach. For example, the following participants hope to remain near the beach for the remainder of their lives:
“I’ve always lived near the water (coast), I don’t like living away from the water, I will
not live away from the water “(Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
“I’ll always live near the beach, and as I get older I hope to surf right into my 70s and
80s” (Interview 19, 17 May 2012).
42 In another example of how the unconscious can overflow into (and influence) the conscious subject, Nast (2000) observed that repressed racism in the unconscious emerges as an embodied effect of past events, illustrating the profound influence of the (unconscious) past. 168
The participants quoted below believed they and other Australians go to the beach because of an innate cultural drive to do so:
“That’s just the Australian way isn’t it? It’s what we do (go to the beach). When you’ve
got that many [beaches] it’s just a normal part of life” (Interview 12, 2 May 2012).
“It’s a great place to be, it’s part of the culture” (Interview 19, 17 May 2012).
Another participant explained how Australians do not question this innate drive to go to the beach:
“Most [Australians] don’t think too deeply about the beach do they? It’s where they
just go” (Interview 24, 24 May 2012).
Adevi and Grahn (2012, p27) found that “people prefer landscapes experienced during childhood regardless of their appearance owing to learned conceptions – preferences are determined by culture”. Adevi and Grahan (2012) explain that people attach more easily to qualities in a landscape that have an innate significance.
An affective link developed with the Australian beach was not exclusive to Australian born participants. Immigrant Australians had similarly developed attachments to the beach, for example:
“I’ve been brought up in Manly, I’ve lived here all my life. I was born in New Zealand
but I’ve been here since I was one. So I’ve been brought up in Manly and the beach it’s
just a place I’ve always known” (Interview 17, 17 May 2012).
This overseas born Australian resident wants to afford her/his children the same privilege of beachgoing as s/he was afforded when s/he immigrated stating:
“I’d never try and keep my kids away from [the beach]. I’d want them to experience it
too – and they love it” (Interview 17, 17 May 2012). 169
In another example, an interview participant commented:
“I think having come from the UK I’ve got a good appreciation of [the beach]. When I
first came to Australia, they put me in an apartment [in the city] ... it didn’t take me
long till every weekend I was travelling across the city to Manly [beach]” (Interview 9,
19 April 2012).
This participant believed immigrating to Australia had imbued them with a sense of appreciation for the Australian beach that might not be the same as the appreciation held by
Australian born beachgoers. Moreover, the participant demonstrates the influence of
Australia’s beachgoing culture by preferring to live near the beach as opposed to the city.
Hernandez et al. (2007, p310) comment on the consequence of developing attachments such as those expressed by the above quoted interview participants regarding the Australian beach:
“... along with the idea that attachment is a positive, affective link between an
individual and a specific place, one of the main features would be the tendency to
maintain close relations with such a place”.
Beachgoers not only establish attachment to the beach, but also develop what is known as place identity, a process by which, through interaction with a place, the individuals describe themself in terms of belonging to that specific place (Hernandez et al., 2007). In a study which compared place attachment and place identity intensity between local born and non-local born groups, Hernandez et al. (2007) found that identity and attachment coincide with locals, while non-locals give higher scores for attachment than for identity, concluding that place attachment develops before place identity (at least in the case of non-locals). The concept of belonging offers a way to ground the relationship between migration and identity (Gilmartin,
2008). Beachgoing is implicated as a symbolic entryway into Australian society and its
170 culture(s). The beach is more than just a geographical location in a person’s mind (Sudas and
Gokten, 2012).
Writing about what occurs at the site of the beach in Australia, Booth (2001, p4) remarks:
“The sociologist Max Weber noted that culture produces, reproduces and transforms
social relationships in public and recognisable ways. The anthropologists Alfred Kroeber
and Clyde Kluckholn describe culture as a tool, a mechanism to enable relationships”.
Culture provides an ideology, or set of principles, that justifies, or rationalises, selected forms of behaviour, and without culture, there would not be social relationships (Booth, 2001).
According to Booth (2001), another function of culture is the production and maintenance of social consensus, largely through the imposition of constraints on behaviour. Examples of this were seen being played out in the imaginings of Australianness within the beachscape and the sense of responsibility, ownership and territoriality that some beachgoers actively engaged.
4.6.4 Owning and sharing the beach
The beachgoing behaviours of research participants often represented efforts to maintain the ideal Australian beach experience. By adhering to behaviours deemed ‘normal’, participants demonstrate how the psychosocial processes of place attachment and sense of identity shape behaviour. An example of this included the way research participants expressed the importance of keeping the beach clean:
“Sydney beaches aren’t too bad under the circumstances, they’re relatively clean and
they’re kept in pretty good shape by their respective councils ... and so long as people
keep doing the right thing (putting litter in bins) they’ll keep clean” (Interview 14, 15
May 2012).
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“I think it’s great that they put all the offshore pollution systems [sewerage outlets] so
far offshore because we get nice clean beaches that we didn’t have all those years ago”
(Interview 16, 16 May 2012).
“Yeah I think people should be a bit more careful with rubbish and cigarette butts and
just leaving shit on the beach. That kind of annoys me a bit because it’s pretty easy to
clean up after yourself and it just makes it nicer for the next users” (Interview 2, 27
February, 2012).
“I’m glad we don’t smoke on the beach, it pisses me off when I see people leaving litter
and rubbish on it. If somebody drops something on a beach I’d stop to say to them
[‘pick it up’], or I’d pick it up and give it back to them and wouldn’t have any qualms
about it” (Interview 9, 19 April 2012).
Participants also believed keeping the beach free of regulation was important for maintaining the beachgoing ideal, for example:
“I think the important thing is to have [beaches] open and available with the least
amount of regulation controlling how you use the beach” (Interview 14, 15 May 2012).
“... one of my bugbears is to keep the [beach] access [available to everyone]”
(Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
Not charging people for use of the beachscape, specifically parking, was also important to participants trying to protect the Australian beach use ideal:
“What I’m disappointed about in particular is councils charging motorists to park at
beaches” (Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
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“It’s that little place where once you could drive into – you know, pull your car up, go
for a swim in the beach and walk around the rocks – now comes with another fee”
(Interview 14, 15 May 2012).
“I get the shits that people have to spend five bucks every hour and run up to the
bloody car park to put more money in, especially if you’re local you shouldn’t have to
do that, and being local doesn’t mean you live on the beach. If we pay big rentals and
big money for a house, we should be able to park at a car park and enjoy where we
live” (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
These comments by interview participants, some of whom were born in Australia and others who have immigrated to Australia, illustrate a collective belief in a beachgoing ideal that permits a freedom of enjoyment of the beach space so long as there is minimal impact on the environment and on other beachgoers. The actions of the above quoted participants also demonstrated the influence of a beachgoing ideal on beach behaviour, showing how participant enjoyment of the beach is protected by shunning non-ideal beach use (Sibley,
1995; Thomas, 2005).
While the culture of beach use in Australia produces a strong sense of community and identity, it has also produced an insular viewpoint through geographical and cultural enclosure due to geographical isolation from much of the world, as well as Australia’s position as an island nation (Booth, 2001; Noble, 2009; Shaw, 2009). As Nakagawa and Payne (2011, p104) explain,
“an ‘Australian’ from the ‘bush’ may feel disoriented and displaced at the beach”. In the case of the Cronulla riots of 2005, an ardent defence of idealist versions of Australian beach use occurred with large numbers protesting what they imagined to be a threat to the “Australian” version of ‘the beach’ (Noble, 2009; Perera, 2009; Shaw, 2009) (Chapter 2, Section 2.3).
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The Cronulla riots of 2005 were not the first example of conflict on the beach. The Australian beachscape has a history of being a battleground. When Europeans arrived, beaches were the first point of contact as well as first points of conflict between Aboriginal Australians and the
European newcomers. Huntsman (2001, p3) comments that “The coastal Aboriginal people of south-eastern Australia were the first to be reduced by disease, violence, dispossession and demoralisation in the face of European contact, their way of life destroyed, their stories apparently lost”. Not long after this, “the beach became naturalised and bounded as an idyllic leisure place for British Australians, simultaneously marginalising Aboriginal Australians”
(Metusela and Waitt, 2012, xix). Ellison (2011, p14) explains that “the beach can also be a complex setting because of the often complicated concepts of ownership that surround it”.
This became evident during the 1960s and the counterculture wars between surfers and lifesavers which later waned into a relationship that Booth (2001, p118) describes as ‘fragile’
(Chapter 2, Section 2.2). On the tensions that arise at the site of the beach Hosking and
Hosking (2009, Viii) write:
“Beaches have always been the place of edgy encounter and ambivalent contact,
symbolised most powerfully in the Western tradition by Robinson Crusoe’s discovery of
that single footprint on what he thought of as his deserted beach”.
Many research participants were loyal to specific beaches as well as being protective of the beachscape and their ideal version of beachgoing. This involved frequently visiting a favourite beach for relaxation and play, even if it was risky to do so at that particular beach. There are further consequences of beach space loyalty that are explored in Chapter 7. Ten out-of thirty interview participants stated they preferred a specific beachscape – eight of those ten were
Australian born. This equated to fifty-seven percent of Australian born residents exhibiting loyalty to a specific beach space. Outcomes of this were feelings amongst participants exhibiting loyalty that could be associated with territoriality and localism, for example:
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“...my view living on the beach as much as we have – people have got to get respect ...
unfortunately people are still leaving their [rubbish on the beach]. I see people and I
abuse them when I see them do it (leave rubbish on the beach)”. (Interview 5, 21
March 2012).
Another interview participant revealed how one particular beachgoer attempted to create a physical obstacle to protect his space:
“... he was reeling it in (a fishing line) knowing I was there. He wasn’t reeling it in to
help me in any way because I’ve seen him before and he’s a pest, he doesn’t like people
swimming out near where he’s fishing” (Interview 30, 15 August 2012).
The angler exhibits a territorial mentality through the intentional hindrance of other beachgoers with whom he does not wish to share space. The following participant described how acts of vandalism could also be used to deter outsiders:
“As kids we would have a non-local come to the beach we didn’t like, we would let
down all four tyres. Every time the car appeared on the beach we’d let down all four
tyres” (Interview 19, 17 May 2012).
The process of dominating a territory and imposing its cultural laws on others is known as localism. Localism works on a smaller scale to nationalism. It is characterised by an ‘us versus them’ dualism, whereby ‘us’ is always prioritised over ‘them’ (Evers, 2009). In the Australian beach context, localism occurs within beach spaces, as the Cronulla Beach riots attest.
Territories are bounded spaces, “not all that is spatial (or ‘sociospatial’) is territorial, but territoriality necessarily implicates partitioned social space” (Delaney, 2009, p198). Different kinds of territories are used to accomplish a variety of different social objectives (Delaney,
2009). In the Australian beach space, the social objective is the maintenance of an idealised
Australian beachgoing imaginary (on a national scale), and the governance of specific 175 incursions of the abject, (i.e. ‘the other’ or ‘them’) on a local scale (Figure 4.7) (Perera, 2009).
Beachgoers who actively confront litterers and littering engage the latter of these. Littering was seen as an affront to idealist Australian beachgoing. The following comments by Australian residents demonstrate how a governance of littering can play out:
“If somebody drops something on a beach I’d stop to say to them [‘pick it up’], or I’d
pick it up and give it back to them and wouldn’t have any qualms about it” (Interview
9, 19 April 2012).
“Unfortunately, people are still leaving their rubbish. I see people and I abuse them
when I see them do it” (Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
A visual example of localism is offered in Figure 4.7, which is an example of a method used to enforce spatial divisions in the beachscape (Anderson, 2013b). Locals ward off non-locals by expressing that they are unwelcome, painting tags around the beachscape such as ‘locals only’ and ‘no kooks’43 (Booth, 2012). Thomas (2005) refers to the practice of using markers of difference to establish boundaries and distinguish identities as spatial policing.
43 ‘Kooks’ is slang often used by locals as a derogatory term for non-locals or less skilful beachgoers/board riders (Booth, 2011) – i.e. “those who don’t measure up” (Booth, 2012, p566). In the beachscape, it is most commonly used among surfers. 176
Figure 4.7 Visual example of spatial policing/localism/territoriality in the beachscape (this image was taken at Glen Beach in South Africa). (Source: http://www.2oceansvibe.com/2008/01/18/glen-beach- locals-only-bru/)
Stedman (2002, p576) expresses that “we are willing to fight for places that are more central to our identities and that we perceive as being in less-than-optimal condition”. Interview responses relative to this included:
“I’m finding that the [Sydney] Northern Beaches in particular are getting very crowded
and I’m trying to move away and consequently enjoy the Central Coast more, so I head
up there; cleaner beaches, less people, you can sort of enjoy and relax in peace”
(Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
“Too many bloody backpackers down at Bondi. I think they’re (the Northern Beaches)
more natural beaches. I think North Curl Curl [on Sydney’s Northern Beaches] is a nice
beach” (Interview 9, 19 April 2012).
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These interview participants clearly dislike the crowds and tourists on the popular Sydney beaches. Their preference being a quieter beach space or a more naturally scenic beach environment, as another noted:
“They (popular city beaches) are pretty crowded, I find it’s hard to find nice little spots
when you can be on your own; you have to go and hide for a while” (Interview 23, 24
May 2012).
This participant corroborated the ideal of quietness, compared to the popular city beaches of
Melbourne and Sydney, which were also regarded as less ideal by the following participant:
“I mean the beaches down here [south of Geelong in Victoria] are pretty good I guess,
I suppose they’re not really city beaches like Sydney [or] beaches in Melbourne”
(Interview 2, 27 February 2012).
Huizinga (1949, p12) notes that:
“The exceptionality and special position of play [such as beachgoing] is most tellingly
illustrated by the fact that it loves to surround itself with an air of secrecy. Even in early
childhood the charm of play is enhanced by making a “secret” out of it. This is for us,
not for the “others”. What the “others” do “outside” is no concern of ours at the
moment. We are different and do things differently”.
The above quoted interview participants illustrated this in the ways they sought out less popular, almost secret, beaches. These participants possessed the attitude that the less people there are on the beach (i.e. the more secret the beach is), the more they will enjoy it. Pile
(1996, p209) explains that the “body-ego-space is territorialised, deterritorialised and reterritorialised – by modalities of identification, by psychic defence mechanisms, by internalised authorities, by intense feelings, by flows of power and meaning”. Sibley (1995),
Wilton (1998) and Thomas (2005) recognised that anxiety experienced over social difference 178 lies at the heart of boundary erection, territoriality, and often, identity formation. Protecting a homogenised idealised version of Australian beachgoing, in a psychoanalytic context, is an externalisation of the psyche’s protection of psychic wholeness (Guntrip, 1971). At a cultural level, territorialising Australia’s ‘sun, sand and surf’ represents the efforts of a young nation (in the European sense of the word) striving to establish and maintain its own distinguishable identity – which in itself is an archaic European invention/goal (White, 1981; Huntsman, 2001).
When these identity notions come to a head (because they are often less noticed or concealed), as seen at Cronulla in 2005, the beachscape becomes a landscape of exclusion
(Sibley, 1995). Ellison (2011, p2) concludes that despite being considered a “leveller of class, gender, race, and physical appearance”, the beach is a space that can reveal markers of difference. To avoid being identified as different, a beachgoer must conform to the popularised ideal of Australian beach behaviour.
The next subsection outlines how the beach in Australia has significant meaning to many beachgoers through a spiritual connectedness to the landscape. Such spiritual connections result in the beach becoming a revered space. Themes of territoriality, explained in the current subsection, appear again but are rationalised in a different way. The result however, is ultimately the same - beaches are claimed by certain groups who will defend them against ‘the other’ (Sibley, 1995).
4.6.5 The Australian beach space: a spiritual landscape (for some)
Huntsman (2001, p11) writes, “It is crucial for our psychological health and wholeness for us to embrace opportunities for enjoyment of the moment – opportunities of which the beach provides, in Australia, a readily accessible example”. The Australian beach provides a cultural landscape that allows public displays of socially acceptable hedonism, which permit the user to
179 forget, albeit temporarily, their otherwise tumultuous life/psyche. Drawing on Freud, Pile
(1996) argues that culture and society inevitably thwart individuals. The profound doubleness of society is that on the one hand, it binds people into it, yet it prevents the free expression of the libido (Pile, 1996). Freud associates this constitutive sociality with the conflicting tensions of the sexual versus the destructive drives within the individual (Pile, 1996) – “It is the necessary repression of these instincts (i.e. the sexual and destructive drives) that lies at the heart of people’s misery and unhappiness” (Pile, 1996, p242). Freud’s analogy for this repression is of a garrison in a conquered city. “Civilisation does not merely conquer bodies – individuals become subjects through the installation of civilisation within them” (Pile, 1996, p242). Where society and civilisation are conquered by the super-ego, the beachscape offers an escape for the embodied subject. For a few moments, societal repression is alleviated.
Feelings of desire, fear, respect, terror and love, experienced as part of the natural sublime of the beachscape, are representative of the beach as sacred. Pile (1996, p207) explains that,
“certain sites become points of capture for intense feelings of desire, fear and disgust”. Many
Australian’s may underestimate just how significant the beach is to them, and often take for granted the accessibility and freedom of beach use available to them. Nevertheless, as
Anderson (2013a) writes by way of example, the surfed wave is not simply a site of human- nature relation, but a space of spirituality where the surfer may experience transcendence.
This was certainly corroborated during interviews for this thesis. For instance:
“I’ve always lived near the water, I don’t like living away from the water, I will not live
away from the water. It’s part of my spiritual side” (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
“I like to watch the guys surf, or the girls ... just watching the ocean. Just the ocean
itself is all. I meditate by Shelly [beach in Sydney] as well (Interview 23, 24 May 2012).
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“It’s so much fun, it’s part of the soul ... everyone knows where to find me on the
weekend [... the beach] (Interview 16, 16 May 2012).
These transcendental experiences are not new. Aboriginal Australians, the first people to inhabit the continent, experienced attachment to the beach space in various ways (Ellison,
2011). For example, the focus of indigenous text is on the contrast of land and ocean, which excludes the beach space (Ellison, 2011). The contrasting aspects of the beach: the waves that advance and retreat, the tides that rise and fall, the coming and going of seasons, the destruction by storms of the beach and their eventual regeneration, are all features of the world view of Aboriginal Australians, and one “with which we [Anglo-Australians] feel uncomfortable” (Huntsman, 2001, p221). Huntsman (2001, p221) explains that this is because western culture prefers “the drama of linear narrative [and] legend of adventure and achievement”, with little understanding of “the recurring rhythms of life [and] the repeating patterns and rituals of human existence”. In this context, the anomalous category of the beach positions it as contradictory (Fiske, 1989). As such, the beach is read as nature and culture, inclusive and exclusive, and as subsequent chapters will affirm, safe and unsafe.
The land/ocean metaphor, which positions the beach as a doorway between the two, is similar to spiritual representations of a church or any religious building acting as a link between individual and deity. In the context of modern Anglo-Australian society, Spearritt (2003, p36) writes,
“The beach [has] replaced church establishments as the main meeting place for young
urban Australians. Church groups were quick to appreciate this new site of social
interaction [i.e. the beach] ... building elaborate establishments, such as the sprawling
Presbyterian guest house at Alexandra Headland”.
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It is no wonder that for some the Australian beachscape holds certain sacredness (Anderson,
2013a), as observed in the interview responses quoted below.
Ellison (2011) contests that the beach is a space that forces revealment – not create equilibrium, and that contestations cannot be hidden on the beach. The Australian born participants interviewed for this thesis were accepting of ‘other’ beach users and ‘other’ behaviours whilst (strikingly) aware of these differences – which tended to belong to non-
Australians. “Non-Australian” beachgoing was permitted but with rules, on the condition that it did not negatively affect the idyllic landscape or impact on the “Australian” version of beach use that was held in sacred regard, for example:
“There was a guy with his two little sons; he looked like he was Malaysian. He’s out
there in thigh deep water having a bloody shower! They were there with soap shoving
his hand down his jock, and his two sons are doing the same. I’m not having a go ... I’ve
just never seen soap in the salt water” (Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
This interview participant was shocked at the non-local’s beach behaviour, that the ‘sacred’ surf was being used for working rather than playing or relaxing. On the other hand, when all is in order, other participants expressed how easy-going they believe beachgoing to be in
Australia, for example:
“... beachgoers are pretty easy-going, Australians are pretty laid back you know, I
haven’t seen any cause for alarm. Most people keep to themselves [at the beach]. It’s
pretty good thank god” (Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
“... people out there [on the beaches] are really, really good. People don’t hassle each
other very much I don’t feel” (Interview 19, 17 May 2012).
As well as sacred, the beach (like a church) is, of course, still a place of social interaction:
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“There’s always people fishing off [the beach at Bateman’s Bay (in southern New South
Wales)] so you can always exchange a few cracks (i.e. have a conversation) with them”
(Interview 24, 24 May 2012).
“... every night we’d be up on the headland and overlooking the beach or walking on
the beach or having a picnic on the beach. That’s the sort of thing we’d do with friends”
(Interview 24, 24 May 2012).
The following participant described the beach as a meeting place where friends and strangers congregate in mutual enjoyment of the Australian beachscape, similar to a holy pilgrimage:
“... people come from all over the world to go to Narrabeen [beach in Sydney]. We
constantly meet travellers in the caravan parks there” (Interview 1, 13 February 2012).
Whilst relaxing, playing and socialising are all part of the agenda of beachgoers, it must be remembered that,
“...different people use the beach differently, that is, they find different meanings in it,
but there is a core of meanings that all users, from respectable suburban family to
long-haired dropout surfer, share to a greater or lesser extent” (Fiske, 1989, p43).
The shared meaning Fiske (1989) mentions refers to the underlying psychic relief that accompanies being within the anomalous beach environment. This meaning has implications for beachgoing that later chapters will illustrate (specifically Chapter 7). The Australian beachgoing norm is also suffused with hazardous behaviours of risk-taking and this is emulated by beachgoers because it is part of the beachgoing norm in Australia.
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4.7 Chapter conclusion
This chapter has provided a discussion on aspects of the Australian beach space that appeal to people. This chapter has addressed the first research question of this thesis, which is, ‘What defines the appeal of the beach in Australia – a hazardous, risk-filled space?’ (Chapter 1,
Section 1.4).
The beach environment provides a space where psychic hang-ups about socially tabooed behaviour such as carefree playfulness, overt sociability and risk-taking can be temporarily suspended. At the same time, the beach simultaneously promotes the reliving of enjoyments experienced during childhood and appeals to people through the prospect of witnessing and engaging the natural sublime. These features of the beach seduce participation in beachgoing.
The inherent sociability of the beach environment serves to amplify the appeal of beachgoing, as people tend to prefer spaces of increased social interaction. The inclusive characteristics of the beach bring people together more so than tends to be experienced in urban environments.
At the same time, exclusivities exist within the beach space, where beachgoing differences become starkly evident, particularly in Australia. These differences derive from the removal or attenuation of social mediators such as clothing and ‘civilised’ city behaviour. Without these mediators, differences are more easily observable.
From the research carried out for this thesis, I observed that beachgoing in Australia is a subjective pursuit, yet tends to follow (or shift into – for a newcomer to the Australian beach) a socio-historically and culturally determined set of norms. Those that do not follow these norms are at risk of being excluded from being perceived as a “normal” beachgoer.
Questionnaire and interview data obtained during fieldwork revealed that relaxation was the primary motivation for beach use, and for a beachgoing norm in Australia. I also observed that relaxation was the common beachgoing goal for most research participants, albeit achieved in
184 different ways. The systems of inclusion and exclusion surrounding how to relax at the beach are complex and locally variable, yet being included broadly involves being sociable without being intrusive to others, respecting the natural environment of the beach, and enjoying the beach by performing certain beachscape-based activities/behaviours. When these criteria are met, the Australian beachgoer can relax, or is interpreted by the popular masses as relaxing.
Enjoyment of the beach through the performance of certain behaviours has greater significance for this research. As the first thesis question outlines and the second chapter explains, the Australian beachscape is a hazardous, risk-filled space. Many beachscape-based activities are risky, and there can be many hazards to contend with on the path to beach enjoyment/acceptance. The next chapter examines how the pursuit of beachgoing normality is impacted by the presence of beach and surf hazards. This includes investigating the influence hazard knowledge (or lack thereof) has on beachgoing and beach use in Australia.
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5 Hazards in the Australian beachscape
5.1 Introduction
The influence of hazard knowledge on risk taking and risk perception in the beachscape is important for building a better understanding of human interactions with risk-laden Australian beaches. As outlined in Chapters 2 and 4, visiting the beach is a part of the cultural fabric of living in, or visiting Australia. Consequent to this are the hazards of a high-energy natural system that is dynamic and largely unpredictable. As such, this chapter explores the second research question, which is:
2. How is beachgoing in Australia influenced by the hazards of the beachscape?
Whilst beachscape hazards have been traditionally associated with beach management, implicated in damage to structures, property and the environment (Short and Hogan, 1994;
James, 2000), this chapter addresses beachscape hazards with regard to their impact on beach use in Australia. Previous hazard-related studies have tended to focus on one or two specific hazards, and often the rip current hazard, rather than observing the broader spectrum of hazards present in a typical Australian beach environment (such as Klein et al., 2003;
Gladstone, 2009; Drozdzewski et al., 2012; Brighton et al., 2013). These studies have investigated how hazard knowledge (or lack of) correlates with beachgoer safety and how individual hazards might be mitigated. They also provide statistics on rescue and fatal hazard encounters that indicate that some hazards influence beach use more than others do, such as rips, sun exposure and sharks (Shaw and Leggat, 2003). Whilst significant to informing safe beach practice and policy, such studies have thus far not questioned how awareness and perception of hazards influence the way individuals or groups of individuals perceive and use the beach in Australia.
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It is widely acknowledged that rip currents are responsible for the most deaths and rescues in the Australian beachscape (Short and Hogan, 1994; Brighton et al., 2013), and that exposure to sunlight from beachgoing has less immediate, yet arguably just as (if not more) severe consequences for beachgoer health (McDermott et al., 2003; Peattie et al., 2005). For these reasons, it is understandable that most studies on beachscape-based hazards have tended to focus on the threat of rip currents and/or the dangers of sunlight exposure. Without focusing questionnaire or interview questions on any hazard in particular, one of the aims of this thesis was to gauge how a sample of beach users, constituting various beachgoing groups and demographics, perceived common Australian beachscape hazards. The specific hazards selected for the thesis questionnaire were selected based on previously identified lists of common beachscape-based hazards found around the Australian coastline (outlined in Chapter
3, Section 3.6).
In addressing the second research question, this chapter presents an examination of the hazard knowledge of beachgoers, providing evidence from the analysis of questionnaire responses, as well as details obtained during in-depth interviews. The following sections provide a discussion of the influence that beachscape-based hazards have on beach use whilst highlighting hazards that were identified as having the greatest influence on beachgoing in
Australia (i.e. rip currents, sharks and sun exposure). This includes an exploration of how hazard awareness and hazard experience influence beachgoer perceptions of hazards, as well as how these perceptions influence behaviour. Following this, the hazard knowledge of beachgoers was calculated by comparing perceived hazard danger with the ‘actual’ danger of a hazard. The aim of this was to shed light on what beachgoers perceived as dangerous (and hence risky) to determine the level of acceptable risk in their beach use. In the last section of this chapter, I discuss how hazard encounters impact on the behaviour of new beachgoers compared with how experienced beachgoers behave.
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5.2 Behavioural responses to hazard presence in the beachscape
To determine beachgoer knowledge of hazards, research participants were asked specific questions to determine their hazard awareness, and hazard perception. Hazard awareness is defined in this thesis as an acknowledgement of a hazard’s existence in the beachscape. When an individual is aware of a hazard, they perceive risk in a hazard encounter, and this can influence beach behaviour (Gardner, et al., 1987). Awareness of beachscape hazards among beachgoers was obtained by asking participants to indicate whether they check for hazards before going to the beach or going in the water, and if so, which hazards did they check for
(Questions 9 and 10 of Part B in the thesis questionnaire, Appendix II).
Hazard perception is a measure of an individual’s understanding and interpretation of a hazard based on what they have experienced and/or heard about the hazard (Slovic, 1987). The hazard perceptions of participants were assessed by asking them to rank a list of common beachscape-based hazards (which were: Sharks, Slippery surfaces, Rip currents, Blue bottles /
Jellyfish, Large waves, Sunburn, Submerged objects, Watercraft, Pollution and Dumping shore waves) (Question 7), and then, less directly by asking them to indicate who they believed was most at risk of harm out of a set of specific hazard-based scenarios (Question 8). Hazard perception was also gauged by asking participants if anything scares them at the beach, to see if their fear was connected to a hazard (Question 5 in the questionnaire and asked as an interview question).
Participant answers were compared between beachgoer groups. This was done to distinguish hazard knowledge levels (Section 5.4). A number of demographic categories were established to identify participant groups. Participant categories and their groups included basic demographics (i.e. age and gender), beach use (with beachgoer groups defined by visitation frequency and type of beach use), and residency (as defined in Chapter 4, Section 4.1.2 –
Australian born residents, overseas born Australian residents and overseas residents). 188
These groups were chosen according to previous research that identified variations in beach use and surf drowning due to demographics. For example, Moran (2006) explored the varying incidence of drowning according to victim age and gender concluding that younger males are highly vulnerable to surf-based hazards. Morgan et al. (2009a) observed drowning rates based on visitation frequency, type and duration of beach use and found that males and international tourists were at high risk of drowning. Wilks (2007) also cited the vulnerability of international tourists visiting the Australian beach, whilst McDermott et al. (2003) and Stanton et al. (2004) reported that adolescents have the lowest skin protection rates and females are the most likely group to deliberately sunbathe/bake. In the following section, I explore the influence of fear encounters with hazards on shaping beachscape behaviours.
5.2.1 Hazard encounters and the influence of fear
A Canadian visiting Australia provided a telling response to the thesis questionnaire question,
‘Is there anything in particular that scares you about going to the beach and/or going in the surf?’ stating:
“Rips are as foreign a concept to a Canadian as an avalanche is to an Aussie”
(Questionnaire respondent #110)
The response demonstrates that hazard perception and awareness are context-specific. This specificity can also include socio-cultural and demographic variables of an individual or beachgoer group.
Finding that certain beachgoer groups were more afraid of jellyfish, for example, than any other potential hazard, or that some groups were more scared of being struck by watercraft than others were, illustrates the varying perceptions of danger that different beachgoing groups have of Australia’s beachscape, which may or may not reflect the actual probability of 189 danger. Along with grouping research participants by the social, cultural and demographic variables of demographics, beach use, and residency, it was important to recognise that beachgoers share other elements, such as fear.
Hazard encounters in the beachscape, known or unknown, have the potential to dictate future beachgoing behaviour. For example, Drozdzewski et al. (2012) found that fifteen percent of their sample of Australian beachgoers had been deterred from returning to the surf after experiencing being ‘caught’ in a rip current. This demonstrates that experience, in this instance a negative experience, can perpetuate a fear-like response in the beachgoer, and influence subsequent beach use.
Questionnaire and interview participants indicated their fear of a variety of beachscape-based hazards. However, being afraid of something did not necessarily correlate with perception of its danger. Tables 5.1 and 5.2 illustrate participant responses to the most common beachscape fears.
Hazard Rating score Scared of Max (5) Min (1 or 2) Sharks 83 64% 7% Stingers 54 30% 15% Rips/currents 47 94% 0% Big surf 42 45% 5% Sun/skin cancer 9 78% 0%
Table 5.1 Participant danger rating of their own fears44.
Data in Table 5.1 shows that questionnaire participants who admitted to a fear of marine stingers (such as bluebottles and jellyfish) did not necessarily consider this the most dangerous hazard at the beach, with only thirty percent rating Stingers a ‘5’. Moreover, fifteen percent of
44 For example, 83 people were scared of sharks and 64% of those 83 believed sharks represented the highest possible hazard rating (i.e. ‘5’). Conversely, 7% of those 83 rated sharks a ‘1’ or ‘2’, illustrating that fear does not necessarily correlate with high hazard perception, particularly in the case of Sharks, Stingers and Big surf. 190
the same group considered marine stingers ‘not of great concern’ (i.e. ‘1’). Participants who
identified their fear of rips and strong currents on the other hand overwhelmingly (94%)
agreed that rip currents were the most dangerous hazard in the beachscape.
Check for Don't check for Scared of hazard any hazards Sharks 83 54% 28% Stingers 54 54% 31% Rips/currents 47 87% 11% Big surf 42 86% 10% Sun/skin cancer 9 0% 0%
Table 5.2 Percent of participants that check for the hazard they fear before entering the beachscape.
Table 5.2 illustrates that just over half the participants who were scared of sharks and marine
stingers claimed that they checked for the presence of sharks or marine stingers before they
entered the surf, and almost a third did not check for hazards at all. On the other hand,
participants who identified as being scared of rips/currents and rough surf conditions were
more likely to alter their beach behaviour in relation to their fear (of rips/currents and rough
surf conditions) by checking for the presence of rip currents and large surf (87% and 86%
respectively) before entering the water.
Out of the three-hundred and sixteen questionnaire participants, twenty-two (7%) indicated
that they had previously needed rescuing from the surf. The table below displays the hazard
ratings of rescued participants (Table 5.3).
Blue Dumping Slippery Rip bottles Large Submerged shore Sharks surfaces currents /jellyfish waves Sunburn objects Watercraft Pollution waves Rating 82% 42% 74% 60% 64% 62% 68% 52% 58% 60%
Table 5.3 Aggregate hazard rating by participants who have been rescued from the surf.
Despite having been rescued – which implies having had trouble in the surf (i.e. involved in a
hazardous situation) – rescued participants regarded sharks as the most hazardous aspect of 191 the Australian beachscape. This is made significant because three participants had expressed that being dragged out by a rip current was the reason for their rescue. In contrast, no participant indicated a shark as the causal factor in their rescue, yet sharks were more feared than currents.
Tables 5.1 and 5.2 illustrate that participants who identified being afraid of sharks, do not necessarily connect their fears to a legitimate concern about the hazard. Of the eighty-three participants scared of sharks, only half rate sharks a dangerous hazard (Table 5.1) and only half check for shark presence. A similar scenario was presented for participants scared of marine stingers. Stingers and sharks are the subject of moral panic (explained in Section 5.3.1), which is amplified by a public fear of these hazards in Australia (Dobson, 2008; Gershwin et al., 2010).
Rescued beachgoers contributed to the reproduction of fear of sharks at the Australian beach, indicative of their high hazard rating of sharks compared with other hazards (Table 5.3). The reproduction of fear in Australian beach use is explored in more detail in Chapter 7.
Research participants demonstrated that beachscape fears were often not reflected in perceptions of personal safety at the beach. In other words, a hazard was often feared without the participant believing they were at risk of encountering it. The following part of this subsection explores the extent to which beachscape fears are reflected in beachgoing behaviour.
During in-depth interviews, participants were asked, ‘Knowing this hazard is present would it put you off going to the beach or into the surf?’ Amongst interview participants who admitted to having been scared of something within the Australian beachscape (25 of 30 participants), ten stated their beachgoing was not influenced by their fear, six said they were influenced and subsequently put off, and five were slightly influenced causing minor changes to their beach use. Regarding the most common fear (sharks), five of the nine who responded that they were scared of sharks said that their beach use was not influenced by this fear, for example: 192
“I just know that the risks are pretty minimal. I guess the penalties for those kinds of
things can be quite severe but the risk or chance of anything happening from a shark is
pretty highly unlikely; so they’re not risks that deter me from going to the beach at all”
(Interview 2, 27 February 2012).
This interview participant indicated that they did not consider the risk of shark attack significant enough to warrant altering their beach use, regardless of fearing sharks. This belief is based on their belief that there is a low-risk of encountering a shark at the beach.
Interview participants who indicated that knowledge of a shark’s presence would put them off using the beach were all overseas residents. The fear of sharks held by this group of beachgoers was reserved only for the Australian beachscape:
“In Australia, I think there are some more dangers than back home [in Germany] like
for example sharks ... if I know there are [sharks] there right now, I wouldn’t go in”
(Interview 4, 6 March 2012).
The following participant response illustrates how beach behaviour can be significantly influenced by fear:
“I only got in the water a couple of times here in Australia and that was only because I
really had to pee. It’s like, I want to go in, but the sharks really scare me” (Interview 22,
19 May 2012).
Other feared hazards that had the potential to influence beach behaviour were rough conditions, marine stingers and pollution from medical syringes (one participant for each).
These fears would only slightly influence beach use, for example:
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“Not put me off, I probably wouldn’t go in that far [if the surf was big]. I would stay in
the shallow water, but I wouldn’t swim out if I [saw] big surf” (Interview 3, 2 March
2012).
“... if I see blue bottles (marine stingers) I’m very conscious of them, and depending on
how many of them are on the sand I may still decide to venture in the water”
(Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
Beachscape-based hazards that scared interview participants but did not influence their beach use were sharks (5 participants), sunlight exposure (3 participants) and rip currents (2 participants). Participants who were scared but not influenced by their fear were nonetheless conscious of the hazard they feared, admitting to taking precautions towards avoiding their feared hazard. Other participants demonstrated that their beach behaviour had been slightly altered through fear. For example, an interview participant scared of skin damage from sunlight exposure expressed that they had modified their behaviour:
“No [the sun] doesn’t [affect my beachgoing] because we wear our seventeen tonnes
of sunglasses, hats, sunscreen, covering up and also knowing that between certain
hours of the day you don’t venture out. So it’s all about taking precautions to prevent
the risk [of skin cancer], but still enjoying the environment” (Interview 15, 15 May
2012).
In another example, the following participant avoided swimming in certain circumstances:
“If I knew that [rip currents] were there and I didn’t know where they were [I would be
cautious], I kind of rely on the flags. If I was at an unpatrolled beach, I would probably
be fairly cautious about how deep I go in [to the water]” (Interview 10, 1 May 2012).
For most interview participants a general awareness of hazards that involved being vigilant and cautious dictated how they used the beach. In addition, for the majority of interview 194 participants a normal day at the beach involved avoiding hazards perceived as high risk – judged as such according to each individual visit. Many interview participants believed a common sense rule of enacting caution was sufficient for them to minimise risk, for example:
“I’m very cautious, very aware of my surrounding and potential dangers” (Interview 20,
18 May 2012).
“I think for myself, I don’t put myself in danger (is) what it comes down to. I think I’ve
got a pretty fair idea of the risks at the beach and I take appropriate measures”
(Interview 14, 15 May 2012).
“I’m really cautious when it comes to the beach” (Interview 17, 17 May 2012).
This cautious attitude suggests an acceptance of the possibility of hazard encounters as a part of beachgoing in Australia, and demonstrates an acceptance of danger and risk-taking in
‘normal’ beach behaviour.
The next section focuses on the exploration of the influence of specific beachscape-based hazards that were identified as having the greatest impact on beach use; sharks, rip currents and sunlight.
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5.3 Beachscape-based hazards
Sharks, rip currents and sunlight are considered in this section for their impact on beach use in
Australia. The responses of questionnaire and interview participants are drawn on to identify how these beachscape-based hazards are perceived, and how they influence beachgoer behaviours. I draw on theories of moral panic (Dobson, 2008) and socialisation (Ainsworth et al., 1991) to explain how hazard perceptions are socially constructed. I also draw on psychoanalytic theories of pre-oedipal development (Lane and Chazan, 1989) to identify why fear of certain hazards can be more conscionable to the beachgoer than fear of other hazards.
5.3.1 Sharks
Since records began in 1791, there have been 877 shark attacks in Australia, 216 of which were fatal (AAP, 2012). Commenting on shark attacks, Neff (2012, p88) remarks, “these rare and sometimes fatal incidents are fraught with uncertainties and command a disproportionate amount of psychological space in the minds of the public”. “A predatory animal since time immemorial, the shark is perhaps the most feared of all predatory animals” (Lane and Chazan,
1989, p335) and arguably the most well known hazard in the Australian surf, as this subsection will illustrate.
Dobson (2008) explains that sharks have been demonised in western culture and are enshrined as ‘monsters’ in the public’s consciousness. For example, the Sydney Morning Herald reported that in Western Australia a vote was passed to allow anglers to bait and kill any shark spotted in certain designated shark killing zones near popular beaches (Hasham, 2013). The same article explained how due to recent events such as the death of a young male off a beach in
New South Wales, the West Australian government was also looking at employing ‘spy drones’
196 to surveillance beaches for sharks, and had begun culling sharks in the hope of preventing future attacks (Hasham, 2013).
Although rare, shark attacks on humans make headlines around the world45, helping to
“entrench the sharks’ supposedly anthropophagous nature in human consciousness” (Dobson,
2008, p51). For example, the psychoanalysis of a patient reported by Lane and Chazan (1989) identified a news event as the source a woman’s fear of sharks. An ‘entrenched fear’ of sharks was also evident among user of the Australian beach. An example is the following interview participant’s observation of their child’s response to seeing sharks on the television:
“My five year old is scared of sharks. He bloody watches the national geographic stuff
all the time so now he’s got the [mindset]: sea [equals] sharks” (Interview 9, 19 April
2012).
Sharks were the second most mentioned beachscape-based hazard from the in-depth interviews with twenty-three out of thirty participants acknowledging sharks in some context.
Some interview participants, who reported no particular fear of sharks, occasionally mentioned them as an aside. For example, the following responses were given without cue or any mention of sharks by the interviewer. They show the interview participant’s cognisance of sharks in the beachscape regardless of their fear/non-fear response:
“As far as creatures in the water go – sharks [are] not a problem at all [to me]”
(Interview 14, 15 May 2012).
“I don’t worry so much about sharks” (Interview 10, 1 May 2012).
“... people talk about sharks, [but] I haven’t seen anything so [they don’t concern me].”
(Interview 18, 17 May 2012).
45 As of 2008, there have been ninety-four fatal shark attacks worldwide since 1990 (Dobson, 2008). 197
“I mean sharks aren’t a concern. I know sometimes you get them, but stay out of the
water if you know there’s sharks there” (Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
“... nothing frightens me. I mean I’m aware of sharks and those sorts of things, but they
don’t concern me too much” (Interview 7, 22 March 2012).
The unprovoked mention of sharks by interview participants indicates the prominent position that sharks occupy within the consciousness of many beachgoers. In other words, there is significant awareness for this particular hazard regardless of low probability of actual danger.
Although almost eighty percent of interview participants mentioned sharks, only (up to) forty- eight percent of them would actively check for sharks before entering the water (Table 5.4).
Hazard % Currents, including rips 63 Big surf / shore dumping waves 59 Marine life (stingers, sharks etc) 48 Whether or not the beach is patrolled 45 Board riders 34 Pollution 34 Motor craft (jet skis etc) 27
Table 5.4 Percent of questionnaire participants who check for the corresponding hazard before going to the beach or entering the water (in descending order).
Sharks received the second highest number of nominations of ‘extremely dangerous’ (5) in a question that asked participants to rate the danger of a hazard (from 1 to 5). However, in the same question, out of ten options sharks received the third highest number of nominations for
‘not of great concern’ (i.e. a score of 1) (Table 5.5).
198
Blue Dumping Slippery Rip bottles Large Submerged shore Sharks surfaces currents /jellyfish waves Sunburn objects Watercraft Pollution waves 1 25% 29% 5% 7% 8% 9% 18% 29% 22% 14% 2 14% 18% 5% 17% 16% 10% 16% 27% 16% 21% 3 14% 27% 16% 34% 32% 22% 21% 21% 18% 22% 4 11% 17% 29% 20% 30% 27% 25% 11% 22% 29% 5 36% 9% 45% 22% 14% 32% 20% 12% 22% 14%
Table 5.5 Percent of responses for each danger rating (1-5) within each hazard category (for example, 25% of participants who answered the question gave ‘Sharks’ a hazard rating of 1).
The hazard ratings provided above in Table 5.5 were simplified by scoring each hazard a single
aggregate total to better illustrate and compare scores. Aggregate totals were calculated by
giving each rating (from 1 to 5) a value. In this system, a score of 1 equals one point, a score of
2 equates to two points and so on up to 5 equalling five points. For each individual hazard, the
values were added to create a total, for example, for sharks:
75 people gave a score of 1 = 75 points
42 people gave a score of 2 = 84 points
42 people gave a score of 3 = 126 points total equals 948 points
32 people gave a score of 4 = 128 points
107 people gave a score of 5 = 535 points
The values were then calculated as a percentage score representing the hazard’s final
aggregate rating. Percentage scores were calculated by multiplying the total number of
respondents by the max rating of five – so for sharks this equates to 298 multiplied by five,
which equals 1490. The percentage score for sharks is 948 divided by 1490, which amounts to
a sixty-four percent hazard rating for sharks.
199
Blue Dumping Slippery Rip bottles Large Submerged shore Sharks surfaces currents /Jellyfish waves Sunburn objects Watercraft Pollution waves Score 948 752 1185 985 970 1076 908 747 903 894 Rating 64% 50% 80% 66% 65% 72% 61% 50% 61% 60%
Table 5.6 Overall aggregate scores and ratings for hazards by questionnaire participants.
In Table 5.6, it is easier to see the effect of the polarised perception of sharks. Sharks were
only the fifth most dangerous hazard according to the sample population (Table 5.6) despite
receiving the second highest number of votes for the maximum hazard rating (Table 5.5). The
contrasting attitudes amongst questionnaire participants regarding sharks were also observed
amongst interview participants. Many interview participants announced they were not
concerned about sharks in the beachscape, whilst others held a significant fear of them. For
example, the following interview participants clearly state their fear of, or aversion to, sharks:
“I’m petrified of sharks” (interview 8, 4 April 2012).
“I’ve got a natural aversion to sharks” (Interview 15, 15 May 2012).
Another interview participant demonstrated the influence of their peers in contributing to
their fear of sharks:
“Plenty of surfers have told me plenty of scary shark stories so I’m a little bit scared of
sharks” (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
The following participant indicated the impact a fear of sharks had on their beach use:
“It’s like I want to go in [the water], but the sharks, [they] really scares me (Interview
22, 19 May 2012).
Interview participants were often likely to dismiss their concerns about sharks, or be tentative
about admitting fear, as the following quotes attest to (and, as opposed to the participants
quoted above who were adamant about their fears): 200
“Sharks – if I say they don’t worry me that’s not quite right in that I’m aware of them,
but I figure we’re going into their environment” (Interview 1, 13 February 2012).
“So sharks ... they don’t scare me, but I don’t want to be eaten” (Interview 30, 15
August 2012).
These participants admit to a concern regarding possible shark presence in the water, yet did not consider their concern a fear. One participant reacted to their personal fear of sharks as surprising:
“... for some reason I am a little paranoid of sharks ... for some reason I prefer to be in
[clear] water [so] I can see through [it]” (Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
Other interview participants expressed that the possibility of sharks being present evoked in them a persistent anxiety whenever they were in the ocean, for example:
“...I know they [sharks] don’t come in that close [to shore]. I don’t consciously think [of
them], but every now and again you just think: I wonder if they are out there”
(Interview 13, 2 May 2012).
“I have done swims early in the mornings and sometimes later at night. When you are
two-hundred yards off the beach and you’re swimming you realise: shit, there could be
sharks here you know” (Interview 9, 19 April 2012).
“It’s always at the back of my mind when there’s a lull in the swell, my mind turns to
sharks, for no apparent reason I guess” (Interview 2, 27 February 2012).
Again, these participants illustrate that many beachgoers are aware of the hazard presented by sharks, yet do not alter their beach behaviour other than to occasionally think about the possibility of a shark encounter.
201
Much of why participants reacted to sharks in this way (i.e. starkly aware of the possible presence of a shark but not too concerned about the risk) is underpinned by the conflicts that arise during psychosexual development (Chapter 3, Section 3.4; Appendix IV). Lane and Chazan
(1989) use psychoanalytic theory to explain how sharks symbolise terror and representations of an early childhood fear of death by mutilation – which has its prototype in the universal experience of learning to eat. Lane and Chazan (1989, p335) explain that in addition to its oral- sadistic nature, the shark has other attributes that add to its symbolic importance:
“The shark both terrifies and fascinates. It elicits many ambivalent feelings. The shark
has a quality of unknown danger, a subjective attribute that refers to the sudden
emergence of the shark out of the darkness and depths to viscously attack”.
In addition, the observed reaction to sharks by participants that involved dismissing their fear as unfounded is indicative of the prevailing masculinisation of beachgoing cultures in Australia, which disavows fearfulness (Chapter 2, Section 2.3). For example, some interview participants felt guilty or displeased with their fear of sharks:
“I don’t find [many] things very dangerous, only sharks and that’s about it. It’s funny
because I know you’ve got more chance to be struck by lightning than actually eaten by
a shark” (Interview 23, 24 May 2012).
“I’ve got a natural aversion to sharks, which I know is weak. You know you’re more
likely to be hit by a car walking down the street ... and [there are] no cars here [in my
town in country New South Wales]” (Interview 15, 15 May 2012).
These participants consider their fear somewhat irrational given their understandings of the actual likelihood of being attacked by a shark. The dismissal of fear observed in the above participant responses also highlights the prevailing attitudes towards risk-taking at the beach – that being the acceptance of risk-taking as normal.
202
With regard to the high level of awareness about sharks in the Australian beachscape, Dobson
(2008) asserts that negative coverage of an issue helps to establish moral panic surrounding it.
“A moral panic can be generated by a wide range of social phenomena where society overreacts to perceived threats” (Dobson, 2008, p51). On the topic of sharks and moral panics,
Tiffin (2009, p75) states, “humans may be in awe of sharks, admiring their persistence in time, their power, speed and streamlined ‘design’; but more usually sharks are feared, vilified and slaughtered”. This became starkly evident in accordance with reaction to the movie Jaws
(Figure 5.1).
Figure 5.1 Poster for the film ‘Jaws’, released in 1975 (Source: http://jaws.wikia.com/wiki/Jaws).
The negative image of sharks was greatly influenced by Jaws after which divers rushed to cancel scuba lessons, and scuba shops and equipment manufacturers suffered huge losses
(Dearden et al., 2008). Commenting on the psychoanalytic symbolism of the shark, Lane and
Chazan (1989, p335) write, “it (the shark) has achieved fame through newspaper reports of
203 dismemberment of bathers and movie renditions of a saga called Jaws”. The moral panic that circulates the social construction of a human-hunting, mass-murdering ‘killer shark’ (or ‘Jaws’) is an example of the social amplification of risk (Kasperson et al., 2010). The risk amplification of shark attacks is observable in Figure 5.2 (in addition, instances of risk amplification (and attenuation) in the Australian beachscape are discussed further in Chapter 7).
90 80 70
60 50 40
Frequency 30 20 10 0
Figure 5.2 What questionnaire participants were afraid of in the beachscape.
Figure 5.2 identifies that sharks are the most feared hazard in the Australian beachscape.
However, although many participants reported a fear of sharks during in-depth interviews, many did not consider sharks to be the most dangerous hazard at the beach. During interviews, participants were asked, ‘Do you think sharks are the most dangerous aspect of being at the beach?’46 Below are some of the replies:
“Not at all, no way” (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
“Oh no not at all, I realise that [the likelihood of being attacked by a shark is] probably
minute” (Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
46 This question would only be asked after the respondent had mentioned they were scared of sharks. 204
“They’re not the most dangerous. I think it’s pretty rare [to be attacked by a shark] and
you’re probably pretty lucky if you find [a shark]” (Interview 3, 2 March 2012).
“No not really ...” (Interview 8, 4 April 2012).
These responses suggest a fear of sharks in the beachscape is often not the result of an actual fear of an attack, but the product of moral panic, which has been well established and continually generated by media reports and the arts.
“Why are these tropes so pervasive, influential, and so frequently invoked by urban
cultures whose sense of individual or collective safety is, quite unrealistically, so
profoundly disturbed by the image of sharks and shark attacks? ... it is clear that it is
the shark’s symbolic freight, rather than its real depredations on humans, which most
strongly influences popular imagery, (re)contributing in turn to the (re)formation of
popular perceptions.” (Tiffin, 2009, p76, 77)
Tiffin (2009) explains that a fear of sharks is reproduced by media depictions of its hostile attributes. Tiffin (2009) acknowledges the significance of the shark as a symbol of fear, which as Lane and Chazan (1989) report, is produced during pre-oedipal psychic development.
The influence of sharks on beachgoer behaviour varied regardless of an innate reaction to the fear of sharks. Two groups were identified as being particularly influenced by their fear of the shark hazard: infrequent beach users and foreign tourists. Infrequent beach users demonstrated a particular fear of sharks compared with other groups. The option for the beachgoer most at risk – ‘a person swimming beyond the waves in deep water’ – was the most popular selection for questionnaire participants who only used the beach ‘1-2 times a month’ or ‘Rarely’. Participants who use the beach ‘Every day’ selected ‘A person swimming beyond the waves in deep water’ to be the person most at risk a significantly lower amount than low
205 frequency beach users47. Participants who ‘Rarely’ go to the beach also awarded sharks the second highest aggregate total for hazard rating (74%) compared with their rating of other hazards (Table 5.7 provides aggregated ratings to compare hazard ratings between individual beachgoer groups). For overseas residents, ‘A person swimming beyond the waves in deep water’ was selected as the beachgoer most at risk more times than both Australian born residents and Australian residents who were born overseas48 (Figure 5.3).
45% Someone sunbaking 40% 35% 30% A person swimming beyond the waves in 25% deep water 20% Someone wading in a 15% current 10% 5% Someone catching waves in shallow water 0% Australian Australian Overseas A person learning to born resident resident surf resident born overseas
Figure 5.3 Most at risk according to beachgoers grouped by residence.
Data in Figure 5.4 (below) suggests that overseas residents were the beachgoer group most likely to have a fear of sharks (according to questionnaire and interview responses to the question, ‘Is there anything in particular that scares you about going to the beach and/or going in the surf?’). Overseas residents had a significantly higher aggregate hazard rating of sharks compared with other residency groups49 (Table 5.7).
47 According to the chi-square distribution (X2) (α = 0.05) which estimates the mean of a normally distributed population, infrequent beach users were more likely to select ‘A person swimming beyond the waves in deep water’ (X2 (16) = 27.4, p <0.05). 48 Overseas residents selected ‘a person swimming beyond the waves in deep water’ more times than would be expected according to the chi-square distribution (X2(8) = 13.6 p <0.05). 49Overseas residents rated sharks significantly more dangerous than the other two residency groups according to the chi-square distribution (X2 (1) = 3.919, p < 0.05). 206
207
50% 45% 40% 35% Sharks 30% Stingers 25% 20% Rips/currents 15% Rough conditions 10% Animals 5% Sun 0% Australian born Australian Overseas resident resident born resident overseas
Figure 5.4 Beachgoer fears, grouped by residency.
There was a common perception among interview participants of overseas residence that
Australia is synonymous with sharks and shark attacks, and this scared them. The following interview participants illustrate the perception amongst overseas residents that beachgoing in
Australia is dangerous due to the presence of sharks:
“The sharks are the only thing that have been scaring me here [in Australia]” (Interview
21, 19 May 2012).
“If you go to a beach in Australia, I think there are more dangers than back home [in
Germany], like for example animals or sharks, we don’t really have [those]” (Interview
4, 6 March 2012).
“I only got in the water a couple of times here in Australia. It’s like, I want to go in, but
the sharks really scare me” (Interview 22, 19 May 2012).
“Speaking from a backpacker’s perspective, every backpacker, especially English, we’re
all scared of sharks” (Interview 6, 21 March 2012).
208
The participants quoted above exhibited feelings of exclusion from an Australian beachgoing culture. This extended from their observations of a beachgoing orthodoxy that involves confronting the shark-filled ocean – a convention that frightens the tourist beachgoer. A tourist beachgoer’s fear of sharks, and their decision to confront this fear by going in the water, illustrates the conflation of beachgoing in Australia with risk-taking. Highlighting a reason for these fears, other overseas residents stated that it was common for people in their country of residence to warn others about sharks in Australia, thus circulating moral panic:
“One thing that did cross my mind is, of course coming from where I come from
[Finland] people always mention the same thing, sharks. People make jokes [about
shark attacks in Australia] coming from a place where there are no sharks” (Interview
27, 30 May 2012).
“That’s what people warn you about before arriving in Australia – watch [out for] the
sharks” (Interview 23, 24 May 2012).
Some interview participants believed it was the species of shark, endemic to Australia’s oceans, which invoked their fear. The species overseas residents most feared were White
Pointers, or Great White Sharks, popularised by their appearance in the movie ‘Jaws’ (Figure
5.1):
“[I am] definitely [afraid of sharks] here in Australia, and Florida too, but more so here
because we don’t have Great Whites [in Florida]” (Interview 22, 19 May 2012).
“I know not all of them eat flesh, it’s just the Bull Sharks, [Great] Whites, and there’s
another one I can’t remember (Interview 23, 24 May 2012).
So we (United States) have a lot [of sharks], we lead the world in shark attacks
actually, but it’s always something minor with just stitches. Here [in Australia], the
209
shark makes a mistake and bites you; you could possibly die because it bit half your
body off. There’s no mistake with ‘Jaws’” (Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
Nearly one quarter (24%) of questionnaire participants wrote that they were scared of sharks, which is almost twice as many who feared rip currents (15%) or rough surf conditions/big waves (13%) (Figure 5.2). As this subsection has considered, many participants admitted to a fear of sharks without actually considering them a significant danger. With a fear of sharks occupying the thoughts of many beachgoers, this might distract some from recognising other, arguably more dangerous, beachscape-based hazards. For example, awareness and knowledge of the rip hazard is significant because rip currents are responsible for the most recorded rescues and fatalities of all the hazards in the Australian surf (Sherker et al., 2008; Brander and
MacMahan, 2011; Brighton et al., 2013).
5.3.2 Rip currents
According to Table 5.4, questionnaire participants were more aware of surf zone currents than any other hazard. Public awareness of rip currents has increased over the past twenty to thirty years, with greater understanding about their function in the surf zone coinciding with a greater awareness of their hazard (Leatherman, 2013). Previous studies have illustrated that the rip current hazard in Australia is of particular significance because of their relatively high occurrence around Australia’s wave-dominated coastline (Brander and MacMahan, 2011). The limited knowledge and experience that some beachgoers posses with regard to safe rip current practice make rip currents a significant hazard in the surf zone (Short and Hogan, 1994; Short,
2007; Brander and MacMahan, 2011; Leatherman and Fletemeyer, 2011; Drozdzewski et al.,
2012) (as outlined in Chapter 2, Section 2.4).
210
As with sharks, interview participants had a high awareness of the rip current hazard. Twenty- nine (out of 30) interview participants mentioned rip currents. Interview participants spoke of actively checking for rip currents and trying to avoiding them when in the water. For example:
“[It is] very important to read the beach before you go for a swim and to see where the
rips are” (Interview 16, 16 May 2012).
“Obviously [with regard to] rips, I keep away [from them]” (Interview 14, 15 May
2012).
Other participants acknowledged the importance of being aware of rip current presence in the surf:
“I’ll be aware of what the surf’s like … currents and things” (Interview 20, 18 May
2012).
“I’m pretty aware of the rips” (interview 28, 18 June 2012).
“[I am] kind of aware of avoiding rips” (interview 7, 22 March 2012).
Questionnaire participants considered rip currents the most dangerous hazard in the
Australian beachscape. Rip currents received the highest frequency of a 5 score on the hazard rating scale (Table 5.5), as well as the highest overall aggregate hazard rating (Table 5.6).
Thirty-one percent of participants selected ‘Someone wading in a current’ as the beach user most at risk of harm, which highlights participant perception of the hazardous nature of rips
(Figure 5.5).
211
Someone catching A person learning waves in shallow to surf water 5% 8%
Someone sunbaking 29%
Someone wading in a current 31% A person swimming beyond the waves in deep water 27%
Figure 5.5. Percentage of responses to the question ‘Who is most at risk’.
Rip currents were only the third most feared hazard, after sharks and marine stingers, despite being considered the most dangerous hazard in the beachscape by questionnaire and interview participants. Many interview participants acknowledged rip currents as the most dangerous hazard at the beach when they feared something else50, for example:
“I think that probably the [rip] current would be the biggest [hazard], but for some
reason I am a little paranoid of sharks” (Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
This response demonstrates the presence of fear surrounding sharks and the prospect of a shark attack, whilst highlighting the participant’s belief that rip currents present a greater hazard than sharks. When asked, ‘Do you think going out of your depth and sharks are the most dangerous aspects of going to the beach?’ another interview participant stated:
50 A hazard was only mentioned during an in-depth interview if the interview participant had previously made mention of it, i.e. hazards were not mentioned unless previously mentioned by the participant. 212
“And also if you get caught in a rip. Yep, that’s my other [scary] thing” (Interview 13, 2
May 2012).
When asked, ‘Is there anything else that frightens you or would keep you from going to the beach or in the surf?’ one participant stated:
“If people have seen sharks in the area ... but primarily if there’s a rip” (Interview 15,
15 May 2012).
When asked, ‘’Do you think ‘really, really big surf’ is the most dangerous aspect of being at the beach?’ a participant then amended their previous statement/inference by confirmation that:
“No, I think the rip is” (Interview 16, 16 May 2012).
After establishing that the interview participant was aware of the danger of rip currents, they were asked, ‘Knowing that rips are present would this put you off going to the beach or in the surf?’ Three participants included the answer ‘no’ in their responses (Interview 10, 1 May
2012; Interview 16, 16 May 2012; and Interview 13, 2 May 2012), and one participant stated:
“I know that it (a rip current) can take you out [in the surf], but it hasn’t happened to
me yet, so [a rip current] still doesn’t scare me quite yet” (Interview 22, 19 May 2012).
Regardless of participant awareness of the hazard, rip currents were less likely to be feared than sharks or marine stingers. Sherker et al. (2010) reported that ninety-three percent of a representative sample of Australian beach users believed they could positively identify a rip, yet fifty-two percent still swam in one at the beach. This suggests beachgoers are aware of rip currents, but at the same time show a lack of knowledge about their actual danger or, significantly for this thesis, a lack of regard for their danger/an acceptance of their danger
(such as complacency and overconfidence, which was reported in Drozdzewski et al., 2012).
213
Observations made from questionnaire and interview responses recorded for this thesis indicate that rip currents were considered a dangerous hazard by all participating beachgoers.
Twenty-one out of the twenty-four beachgoer groups in Table 5.7 rated the rip current hazard as most dangerous in the Australian beachscape. However, some groups considered the rip current hazard more dangerous than other groups. For example, participants over the age of forty were not as concerned about rip currents as younger beachgoers (i.e. those aged between 18 and 3951).
Previous research on rip currents has identified that males are more likely to drown than females in a rip current (Brander and MacMahan, 2011). However, the results of this thesis have shown no significant difference in the perception of rip current danger by gender52.
Difference in drowning statistics between genders is therefore attributable to something other than perception of the rip current hazard53.
Tourists (the third residency group) are a beachgoer group that have been identified as vulnerable to the rip current hazard in Australia (Short, 2006; Wilks, 2006, 2007, 2008; Brander and MacMahan, 2011). All overseas residents interviewed for this thesis indicated awareness of rip currents. Some interview participants of overseas residence were surprised at the veracity of a rip current regardless of having awareness of the hazard, but without having experience with it in Australia. As one participant stated:
“I had trouble quite a bit [my first time in the Australian surf], but the current was
something that totally surprised me. So I was swimming [thinking] yeah I can take this
no problem. I thought I was a good swimmer, obviously I wasn’t. I had travelled a lot
and I had never been in a current that strong” (Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
51 Beachgoers in the 18-20, 21-29 and 30-39 age groups selected ‘Someone wading in a current’ significantly more times than beachgoers from the 40-49, 50-59 and 60+ groups (X2(20) = 29.2, p <0.05). 52 A chi-square test of questionnaire respondents revealed no statistical difference in the perception of rip current danger between males and females (X2(4) = 4.58, p = 0.334). 53 The high incidence of drowning amongst males is often attributed to factors such as overconfidence and higher risk-taking tendencies (for example Morgan et al., 2009). 214
Another overseas resident acknowledged the consequence of rip current ignorance:
If there’s a rip and you don’t know about it, then you’re gone [swept out to sea]
(Interview 3, 2 March 2012).
Amongst Australian born beachgoers, there was a perception that tourists were less knowledgeable about rip currents than locally born beachgoers were, and hence more likely to perform unsafe practices. As some Australian born participants commented:
“When there’s rips and they’re (tourists) unaware [it is a concern]. We see a lot of
travellers just swimming where they shouldn’t” (Interview 1, 13 February 2012).
“Countless people – especially at South Curly [beach in Sydney], especially tourists –
are always being taken out by rips” (Interview 30, 15 August 2012).
“Well I hate to generalise, but when you get [tourists] they go out of their depth [in the
surf], they can’t read the currents and the rips” (Interview 13, 2 May 2012).
These participants associate tourists with rip current ignorance. In another example, one interview participant knew of, or had heard of, drowning involving overseas residents, perpetuating the belief that tourists are vulnerable to rip currents:
“We had a family [from overseas] lose a couple of its members down at the beach a
couple of years ago. They just couldn’t swim and got into trouble in a rip and drowned”
(Interview 2, 27 February 2012).
Another Australian born interview participant believed that being born and raised in Australia affords the beachgoer an innate understanding of safe/appropriate beach practice, including rip current knowledge:
215
“I mean I was born right down the street from the beach so I kind of know. I’m not like
a tourist coming to the beach for the first time [who] ends up getting stuck out there
[in a rip current]” (Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
In addition, some interview participants of Australian residence reported having to rescue overseas residents caught in rip currents:
“I remember one time a woman was screaming and she was having trouble; there was
a rip and I jumped in there and helped her out...I think she was either a Greek or Italian
woman visiting from overseas” (Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
“I saw two tourists [who I later found out were tourists] being sucked out from the
pool ... they were flailing their hands, I was the last person at the beach, it was just me
and one other guy. So we paddled out through the channel (rip current), I brought
them both back in. When we got back to the beach [we discovered] they were English
tourists. They just hopped in the water for a swim and [had] just been sucked out in this
huge current that runs out across the pool on an outgoing tide. That was one of the
times; it’s happened a lot” (Interview 30, 15 August 2012).
These responses illustrate that the tourist’s lack of experience and knowledge of rip currents can result in the need to be rescued. They also illustrate the perception among Australian born beachgoers that local knowledge of rip currents and beach use practices are superior to that of non-local beachgoers, the implications of which include cultures of localism and territoriality that pervade Australian beachgoing (Chapter 4, Section 4.6.4). This indicates a social acceptability of known/purposeful risk-taking (Australian beachgoing) over accidental risk- taking (tourist beachgoing).
216
One interview participant of Australian birth spoke of informing visitors to the Australian beach about the rip current hazard, again demonstrating the Australian born beachgoer’s perception that tourists are vulnerable to rip currents:
“I’m [often] telling my visiting friends: ‘you stay in the waves because there’s no rips in
the waves” (Interview 7, 22 March 2012).
Of the three residency groups, Australian residents born overseas (immigrant Australians) were the most aware of the rip current hazard. Immigrant Australians selected ‘Someone wading in a current’ (as the beachgoer most at risk of harm) more times than tourists and
Australian born residents54. Immigrant Australians also awarded rip currents the highest aggregated hazard rating of the three residency groups (Table 5.7).
The tendency for Australian born participants to rate the rip current as a lesser hazard than immigrant Australians could be due to socialisation55 – a learned awareness of the rip hazard from an early age (Ainsworth et al., 1991). This has led the Australian born beachgoer to hold the belief that they are able to identify and/or negotiate a rip current because they grew up near the beach space, which attenuates their perception of the hazard. For example, these
Australian born interview participants demonstrate the confidence Australian born beachgoers tend to have regarding rip current negotiation:
“Well I guess being a local to the beach I know what to look out for [in regard to rip
currents]” (Interview 7, 22 March 2012).
“I know the beach well enough to know where the rips are” (Interview 30, 15 August
2012).
54Immigrant Australians selected ‘Someone wading in a current’ more times than overseas residents and Australian born residents, although this result was likely to be non-significant at an alpha of 0.05 (X2(8) = 13.6, p = 0.092). 55Socialisation refers to the lifelong process of inheriting and disseminating social and cultural norms, customs and ideologies (Ainsworth et al., 1991). 217
“I’ve always lived close to the water so I’m pretty aware of the rips” (Interview 28, 18
June 2012).
“Our brother-in-law got caught in a rip and it [dragged] him out a fair way, but he was
a beach baby and knew how to get himself in [to shore]” (Interview 15, 15 May 2012).
The following comments by interview participants are examples of how rip current knowledge is often instilled in Australian born beachgoers from childhood through socialisation:
“I’m lucky having [my husband] around because he just recognises the rips straight
away ... he’s instilling in the kids, trying to teach them about it” (Interview 1, 13
February 2012).
“I drum it into the kids about rips” (Interview 12, 2 May 2012).
“I teach them (my children) about rips at home” (Interview 17, 17 May 2012).
“A guy came out, he was [from the] University of New South Wales and he shows an
hour session. He puts the dye in the water and shows you the nature of the rips how
they come out. I made my kids go to that so they’ve got an understanding of it”
(Interview 9, 19 April 2012).
Whilst there is cultural continuity about rip current knowledge, which is demonstrated among
Australian born residents through socialisation, immigrant Australians undergo a different process of learning. This process tends to initiate with the immigrant Australian being surprised at the power of rip currents:
“I was caught in a rip, that’s what got me to know about it and to be able to teach my
kids about it. I was quite young and it was because my dad never used to tell us things
like that would happen at the beach” (Interview 17, 17 May 2012).
218
“I knew what a rip was and I knew [that I could] get stuck in it. I tried swimming
against it and I couldn’t, and it wasn’t that deep, but it just gave me an appreciation
[of the power of rip currents]” (Interview 9, 19 April 2012).
These responses illustrate that once a beachgoer has experienced being ‘caught’ in a rip current, they become more aware of rip current presence in the surf zone (Drozdzewski et al.,
2012). One interview participant who resided overseas believed that the danger surrounding rip currents was poorly advertised to overseas residents visiting Australia:
“After [being rescued from the rip] current, I was in total disbelief that they hadn’t
shown an instructional video about rips and about the [red and yellow safety] flags
during the flight here. How many tourists die on the beaches in Australia? It was just an
estimate but I was thinking if even thirty percent of these could be avoided by
instructional videos, it would be worth it to justify the expenditure. The expenditure is
so insignificant [compared to lives lost]. I would probably say a couple of thousand
lives every year [could be saved]” (Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
This response demonstrates the vulnerability of beachgoers who have little experience or knowledge of rip currents in the Australian surf. It also highlights the need for surf safety education to overseas residents who are surprised by the rip hazard. According to Brander and
MacMahan (2011, p23), panic is the cause of drowning – not rip currents. Drozdzewski et al.
(2012) found that the initial response to being ‘caught’ in a rip current, for over thirty percent of rip current survivors was ‘panic’. Several interview participants for this thesis identified their awareness of how panic can influence their attempts to self-rescue out of a rip current:
“We got stuck in a rip and all of a sudden I clicked what you’re supposed to do, you
know, go across [the rip] ... I remember that [initial] slight panic” (Interview 29, 22
June 2012).
219
A common, more dangerous response was:
“I can swim, but I know I’ll panic if I get stuck in a current. I don’t go with the flow [of
the current]” (Interview 20, 18 May 2012).
Interview participants also recognised how panic can influence others:
“I think what happens is people panic when they get into rips – they might even be a
decent swimmer ... I think that panic sets in and they struggle against [the current] –
I’ve seen that so many times” (Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
“... as soon as they get passed waist deep [water] they can get sucked away – and they
panic as well, that’s the worst thing I think, people just panicking. They get scared and
actually stop thinking rationally” (Interview 6, 21 March 2012).
These examples show that beachgoers who are unfamiliar with rip currents, the hazard that presents the most common source of distress (unlike the fear response to sharks) for a beachgoer, are most vulnerable to panic. Beachgoers familiar with rip currents are not immune to panic (as Drozdzewski et al., 2012 found). However, they are more often better equipped to negotiate the hazard.
Another hazard that was observed to influence beachgoing behaviour was sunlight. Prolonged exposure to sunlight exacerbated by a culture of beachgoing poses a threat to life (Garvin and
Eyles, 2001; McDermott et al., 2003). Participant rating of sunburn and their common disregard for its danger, which includes deliberate exposure to the sun to the point of sunburn, suggests that beachgoer perception of the danger of the sun hazard is generally low in
Australia. However, this is not the case, as the risks posed by sunlight exposure appear to be well known in Australia (Garvin and Eyles, 2001) and most beachgoers indicated this during the questionnaire and interview process. The following section addresses how the sunlight hazard influences beach behaviour. 220
5.3.3 Sunlight
The hazard presented by sunlight exposure manifests in the form of skin cancers. Australia has the highest incidence of skin cancer of any country (Garvin and Eyles, 2001; Montague et al.,
2001; McDermott et al., 2003; Stanton et al., 2004), in tandem with the most well-developed and successful sun safety programs globally (Garvin and Eyles, 2001). The popularity of beachgoing in Australia greatly contributes to the hazard presented by excessive sunlight exposure in the beachscape, and a high incidence of skin cancer has resulted in extensive sun protection campaigns in Australia (Garvin and Eyles, 2001) (Chapter 2, Section 2.4).
Most beachgoers who participated in the research for this thesis were able to recognise the danger of excessive sunlight exposure in the Australian beachscape. ‘Someone sunbaking’ was considered the beachscape activity with the second highest level of risk (according to how often it was selected in Question 8 of the thesis questionnaire, Figure 5.5). ‘Sunburn’ received the third highest number of nominations for a maximum hazard rating of 5, as well as the second highest overall aggregate hazard rating (Table 5.6). Interview participants often displayed awareness of the risk of skin cancer in their beachgoing, for example:
“When it comes to swimming on the beach, I’m aware of the sun and its potential bad
effects [such as] skin cancer” (Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
When acknowledging the danger of sunlight exposure, some interview participants cited the application of sunscreen and wearing protective clothing whilst at the beach:
“I’ll wear a shirt, I’ll wear a hat while I’m on the sand, I’ll put sun cream on – that’s the
measures I’d take” (Interview 14, 15 May 2012).
“Of course the sun, you’ve always got to be careful of it ... wear thirty plus (high
potency sunscreen) all the time” (Interview 1, 13 February 2012).
221
Participants also mentioned the importance of not being exposed to the sunlight for long periods – a significant consequence of Australian beachgoing (McDermott et al., 2003):
“[I am] aware of being out in the sun too long, [I am] not trying to get [sun] burnt
(Interview 20, 18 May 2012).
“I’m not big on sitting in the sun, that’s why I like [tree-lined beaches] because you can
get the shade from the trees” (Interview 26, 28 May 2012).
A large number of beachgoers who participated in the thesis questionnaire and in-depth interview were aware of the dangers of excessive sun exposure (18 out of 30 interview participants mentioned it specifically). Sunburn was the third most nominated hazard for a ‘5’ rating, and the second highest rated hazard on aggregate (Table 5.6). Regardless though, not many participants feared being in the sun too long. Only nine out of three hundred and sixteen questionnaire participants listed sunburn or skin cancer as something that they feared when they went to the beach (Figure 5.2). Moreover, several interview participants admitted to purposely exposing themselves to excessive amounts of sunlight, even acknowledging the danger that surrounds this practice, for example:
“I’ve probably done some stupid things as far as put straight [sun-tanning] oil on my
skin to go out [to sunbathe/bake], which isn’t good ... I like the sun, I like to get a tan”
(Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
“To lie in the sun: that’s one of my big bad ones, I do that a lot” (Interview 29, 22 June
2012).
These beachgoers chose to sunbake knowing it was a hazardous activity. The following participants were similarly conscious of the risks involved in sunlight exposure yet engaged with the risks regardless of this knowledge.
222
“I enjoy getting a tan, [but am] also conscious of the fact that I don’t get sunspots or
anything else” (Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
“I’m pretty good about [sun protection] but I like to get a little sun too” (Interview 10,
15 May 2012).
The attitudes expressed by the above quoted beachgoers demonstrates an awareness of the hazard presented by the Australian sun, however behaviour by these same beachgoers suggests that they do not take appropriate precautions to protect themselves from it. The following interview participants spoke of their occasional disregard for sun safety:
“Nine times out of ten I put [sunscreen] on and do all the correct things” (Interview 28,
18 June 2012).
“There have occasionally been times that I’ve probably stayed out in the sun too long”
(Interview 22, 19 May 2012).
One participant believed there was more to gain than to lose from sun exposure:
“I’m aware of the sun and the potential bad effects of skin cancer. However, I think
that the positive effects outweigh the negatives thirty to one” (Interview 27, 30 May
2012).
The extensive campaigning about sun safety in Australia has improved awareness of skin cancer amongst beachgoers (Garvin and Eyles, 2001) (Chapter 2, Section 2.4). While most beachgoers are aware of the hazards of sunlight exposure, many do not act upon this knowledge, or consider it partially. Some will act to the contrary, such as sunbathers/bakers, regardless of their knowledge of skin cancer (McDermott et al., 2003). Observing that many beachgoers engaged with the risk of sunlight exposure regardless of possessing seemingly adequate knowledge of the hazard suggests these beachgoers are driven by a perceived
223 positive outcome (such as the above quoted interview participant), which this thesis asserts is predicated on an attraction to beachscape risk-taking. This is further explored in Chapter 7.
There were a number of varying perceptions of the sun hazard in the Australian beachscape that resulted in different types of behavioural interactions. For example, twelve percent of female questionnaire participants visit the beach with the primary intention of sunbaking, compared to five percent of males56. In another example, older participants were more likely to regard ‘Someone sunbaking’ as the beachgoer most at risk of injury or harm compared with younger beachgoers (who regarded ‘Someone wading in a current’ to be most at risk)57.
Comments from interview participants in the older age categories (over 50) illustrated that their experience with the sunlight hazard had resulted in them being more cognisant of its dangers, for example:
“I’m pretty aware of sun [-related skin] cancer these days. In saying that, I’ve certainly
done my damage as a kid, and when you’re a child you don’t think of that stuff. But
now that I’m older, I’m very aware of it” (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
People who go to the beach to sunbake were the ‘beach use type’ least likely to check for hazards (only 67% compared to the average 86%)58. This suggests many sunbathers/bakers might not consider sunlight exposure particularly hazardous. However, to conclude that sunbathers/bakers did not consider sunlight a hazard is false. In fact, according to Table 5.7 participants who go to the beach to sunbake awarded ‘Sunburn’ the highest aggregate hazard rating out of all beach use groups.
56 Although the chi-square distribution of female rating of the sun hazard versus male rating revealed that a significant difference is unlikely (X2(4) = 4.58, p = 0.334), the expected score for females (52.8) was higher than the recorded score (44). 57 According to the chi-square distribution, a significant difference in the perceptions of ‘someone sunbaking’ between beachgoers in the 50-59 and 60+ age groups and beachgoers in the 18-20 and 21- 29 groups is not likely (X2(20) = 29.2, p = 0.084). 58 Test of the chi-square distribution refuted any significance in this observation (X2(7) = 10.9, p = 0.143). 224
Continued exposure to sunlight by experienced beachgoers suggests that experience with prolonged sun exposure does not necessarily deter beach users from sunbathing/baking. This may indicate two things: first, that perception of the long-term consequences of the sunlight hazard is low, or second, that the consequences are known but outweighed by other motivations that encourage sunlight exposure. McDermott et al. (2003, p106) comments on the influence of the beachgoing culture in Australia on sunbathers/bakers, stating, “the knowledge of the health risks of sun exposure alongside the desirable suntanned image, has created a quandary in their lives”.
Knowledge gained through experience in the Australian beachscape can influence beach use, just as the above quoted participant’s concern regarding over-exposure to the sun during their youth has prompted them to reconsider their attitude towards sunlight exposure, and subsequently alter their beach behaviour. In the next section, I discuss beachgoer knowledge of hazards in relation to the ‘actual’ danger of a hazard. Understanding knowledge of ‘actual’ danger by beachgoers will highlight which beachgoers are most at-risk because their perceptions of hazards do not align with actual risk.
225
5.4 Beachgoer knowledge of Australian beachscape-based hazards
Data gathered from the thesis questionnaire and in-depth interviews suggest that awareness of beachscape hazards is considerably high among beachgoers in Australia – only one participant was unaware of one of the hazards listed in Part B, Question 759. Hazard awareness was used in this thesis in the calculation of hazard knowledge. Another contributing factor to hazard knowledge was hazard perception, and as evident from the results displayed so far in this chapter, hazard perceptions vary across beachgoer groups.
An aggregate danger rating was created from the questionnaire results to highlight the perception of hazards commonly encountered in the Australian beachscape (Table 5.6). This section draws on the results in Table 5.6 to correlate beachgoer perception of hazard danger with actual danger. Beachgoer knowledge was then assessed by comparing perceived danger relative to actual danger.
Actual danger was calculated by considering the number of rescues, loss of life and injuries attributable to each hazard. The data obtained on each hazard is listed as follows:
Sharks – the Taronga Conservation Society Australia (2013) report that there have
been fifty-three fatal shark attacks in fifty years in Australia. Of the one hundred and
twenty-four shark attacks that occurred from 2002 to 2012, five that occurred at a
beach were fatal (AAP, 2012; Young, 2013).
Slippery surfaces – according to Staines and Ozanne-Smith (2002), 10.4% of
beachscape land-related injuries are associated with slippery rocks.
Rip currents – in the period from 2004-2011, six hundred and two rescues and one
hundred and forty-two deaths have occurred as a result of rip currents at Australian
59 Where the participant was asked to rate the danger level of rip currents from 1 to 5, the participant wrote, “don’t know what this is”. 226
beaches – this equates to almost half of all beach related drowning deaths (Brighton et
al., 2013).
Marine stingers – AAP (2003) list at least four fatal stings in Australia from 2000-2003,
with sixty-eight in total from 1883-2003. Up to two hundred people in Australia are
admitted to hospital with jellyfish stings each summer (Goggin, 2004).
Large waves – injuries sustained during large, dangerous surf are more likely to be
attributable to another hazard such as a rip current or a dumping shore wave – the
former being the most likely to receive the blame (Surf Life Saving Australia, 2013d).
Sunburn – sunburn is responsible for ninety-nine percent of skin cancers in Australia
with beach use strongly associated with its two thousand diagnoses per year (Cancer
Council Australia, 2013).
Submerged objects – at least two reported cases of injury and death caused by hitting
a submerged object in the surf have resulted in legal payouts of over two million
dollars in the last ten years (Whealy, 2007), and many more have resulted in head and
neck injuries.
Watercraft – Chalmers and Morrison (2003) report injuries among surfers occur at a
rate of 3.5 injuries per 1000 surfing days. There have also been numerous incidences
involving legal payouts resulting from craft related injuries (Fitzgerald and Harrison,
2003).
Pollution – Kleinbaum and Klein (2005) reported that persons swimming at a polluted
beach in Australia were thirty-three percent more likely to fall ill than persons at a
non-polluted beach. According to Dwight et al. (2005), the monetary cost of illness
resulting from coastal pollution range into the billions of dollars globally.
Dumping shore waves – Norton (2010) state that water-related spinal injuries
accounted for nine percent of all spinal injuries in 2007-8. There were ten victims of
227
spinal injury on the Surf Coast shire of Victoria alone during the 2002/2003 summer
(Pearson, 2013).
Perceived hazard danger was compared with actual danger (determined using the above listed
data) to calculate hazard knowledge. Table 5.8 presents (provisional) ‘actual’ hazard rankings
awarded to each hazard. A hazard’s ‘actual’ ranking is displayed beneath its original overall
aggregate rating and rank from Table 5.6. The ‘actual’ ranks are provisional because although
data are available to determine the ‘actual’ danger of a hazard, data regarding some
beachscape hazards in Australia are not nearly complete enough to conclude with
overwhelming confidence which hazards are greater than others. Even the number of rescues
and fatalities directly attributable to the well-researched rip current hazard is speculative
(Brander et al., 2013).
Blue Sub- Dumping Slippery Rip bottles Large merged shore Sharks surfaces currents /jellyfish waves Sunburn objects Watercraft Pollution waves Rating 64% 50% 80% 66% 65% 72% 61% 50% 61% 60% Rank 5 9 1 3 4 2 6 10 7 8 ‘Actual’ rank 8 10 2 6 7 1 4 5 9 3
Table 5.8 Overall aggregate hazard rating and ranking displayed alongside ‘actual’ hazard ranking.
Regarding the actual risk of shark attack, awareness was often high but knowledge was
sometimes low as some beachgoer groups believed the risk of a shark attack to be much
higher than statistics suggest. A similar trend was seen for marine stingers. Blue bottles and
jellyfish could be considered more hazardous than sharks according to the number of resultant
hospital admittances (up to two hundred each summer in Australia according to Goggin, 2004),
which is corroborated by evidence provided by questionnaire and interview participants about
encounters with marine stingers.
Knowledge about watercraft was low, as was knowledge of dumping shore waves. Watercraft
are not only a hazard to infrequent beachgoers, they are a hazard to frequent and experienced 228 beach users alike (Chalmers and Morrison, 2003). The deaths of three experienced lifesavers by watercraft in competition at Kurrawa Beach in 1996, 2010 and 2012 indicate that watercraft present a serious hazard in the beachscape (APN Newsdesk, 2013). In addition, as a lifesaver I have witnessed many incidents whilst I was on patrol were a beachgoer has been struck and injured by watercraft.
Knowledge of dumping shore waves was also low amongst the sample population considering the number of incidences of spinal, neck and head injuries that are the result of someone being ‘dumped’ (Norton, 2010; Pearson, 2013). Dumping shore waves are a more dangerous hazard in conjunction with submerged objects, because it is often an unseen submerged object, such as a sandbank, that will contribute to a dumping injury (Surf Life Saving Australia,
2013d).
Research on sunburn (for example Garvin and Eyles, 2001; McDermott et al., 2003; Jang et al.,
2013) and rip currents (for example Short, 2006; Drozdzewski et al., 2012; Brighton et al.,
2013) indicates that these are in all likelihood the most dangerous beachscape hazards in
Australia. Research participants echoed this as indicated in Table 5.8, which illustrates indicates sunburn and rip currents as the highest rated hazards.
Rip currents were perceived by research participants as the greatest hazard at the beach. This is significant because given that two thousand people are diagnosed with skin cancer annually
(Cancer Council Australia, 2013) the sun is arguably the most dangerous hazard in the beachscape yet was perceived eight points less dangerous than rip currents (72% and 80% respectively) (Table 5.8). Based on this information and participant awareness of the rip current hazard (Section 5.3.2), beachgoer knowledge of rip currents is high. Knowledge of the rip current hazard may be high but the ability to safely negotiate or avoid a rip has been reported as low, but improving (Drozdzewski et al., 2012). Hazard experience (with rip
229 currents) can play a role in determining how a beachgoer will react to future rip current encounters, as this interview participant indicated:
“I know how fit you have to be [to escape a rip current]. If you are caught in a rip and
you’ve got to swim all the way out [past the breaking waves]and then you’ve got to
tread water for a while and swim all the way back in [to shore] again, you have to be
[fit] to do [all] that” (Interview 16, 16 May 2012).
The above response demonstrates how hazard experience influences hazard perception and beach behaviour. Experienced beachgoers, usually Australian born (for instance the participant quoted above), are aware of the risks surrounding rip current encounters. It has been repeatedly observed in previous studies that encounters with rip currents pose an immediate threat to the inexperienced beachgoer’s life (Drozdzewski et al., 2012; Brander et al., 2013).
However, Australian born beachgoers were not always experienced. In the next section, I discuss the influence that experiences with hazards have on beach use. This includes analysing the influence of Australian culture on hazard perceptions, referring specifically to theories of cultural memory (Bal et al., 1999). In addition, I consider how hazard encounters during psychic development in childhood can influence beach use (Freud, 1976 [1900]; Freud, 2011
[1920]), and using interpretative phenomenological analysis (Smith et al. 2009), I explore the significance of hazard encounters to beachgoers.
230
5.5 Hazards, culture and the psyche
This section reports the investigation of the role of experience of hazard encounters from childhood on beachgoer perceptions of hazards in adulthood. The hazard perceptions of questionnaire participants were illustrated in Table 5.7. Below in Table 5.9 is the combined aggregate of those results in the form of a mean score. Means were calculated for each beachgoer group from Table 5.7. Therefore, the ratings in Table 5.9 represent the overall danger of the Australian beachscape according to each group.
Gender Female 60% Male 57% Age 18-20 55% 21-29 61% 30-39 66% 40-49 63% 50-59 62% 60+ 66% Type of beach use To relax 62% For adventure/do something different 61% To swim 67% To train/workout 60% To be with friends/hangout 62% To sunbake 65% To surf 50% Not sure, just do 56% Frequency of beach use Everyday 58% 3-6 times a week 59% 1-2 times a week 64% 1-2 times a month 64% Rarely 62% Residency Australian born resident 60% Australian resident born overseas 68% Overseas resident 62%
Table 5.9 Danger rating of the Australian beachscape according to each beachgoer group. 231
From Table 5.9, the group with the lowest overall danger rating of the Australian beachscape were participants who go to the beach to surf (50%). Some comments given by surfers during in-depth interviews, and on the questionnaire, demonstrated a disregard for beachscape hazards. Responses by surfers to the question ‘Is there anything in particular that scares you about going to the beach and/or going in the surf?’ included:
“Just missing the good waves” (Questionnaire respondent #33).
“Not really, just fucking up on the wave” (Interview 6, 21 March 2012).
Other responses by surfers indicated their preference for high levels of risk taking at the beach:
“If it’s big surf conditions I still go in, it’s better” (Interview 2, 27 February 2012).
“I’ve been injured in the surf lots of times ... also, if it’s a flat day it’s just fun to go and
jump off rocks [into the ocean] ... I’m always jumping of the highest rock I can find”
(Interview 30, 15 August 2012).
Despite consistently taking on large waves and risking collision with submerged objects (as the above quoted participants had done), what most scared surfers were sharks. Forty-four percent of surfers were afraid of sharks or a shark attack. However, sharks were only the fifth highest rated hazard for surfers (the highest being rip currents and sunburn) (Table 5.7). This helps illustrate what was discussed in Section 5.3.1, that a fear of sharks tends to occupy the minds of beachgoers in Australia.
Finding that surfers were the beachgoer group with the lowest regard for hazards is consistent with Stanger’s (1999) observation that surfing culture is oriented toward risk-taking. A persistent risk-taker or thrill-seeker must continually find more danger to capture their initial
232 satisfaction of performing the risky act (Stranger, 1999). This in turn desensitises the performer
(i.e. the surfer) to hazards. I return to this in the next two chapters.
As with surfers, participants born and raised around the Australian beachscape tended to be more confident, and desensitised to risk, at the beach. Australian born beachgoers demonstrated this in their interview responses, for example:
“I’ve been around the beach most of my life. I guess I’m pretty confident and I don’t get
too freaked out by it (beachscape-based hazards)” (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
“I’ve lived beside the beach all my life so I understand it (the beach and its hazards)
fairly well” (Interview 19, 17 May 2012).
To understand why these beachgoers exhibit desensitised perceptions of hazards and risks I considered comments made about childhood experiences and their influences. Many
Australian born participants described their childhood as a time when they were being familiarised with the Australian beachscape – learning safe beach practices – in accordance with the process of socialisation (Ainsworth et al., 1991) (Section 5.2.2). For example, the following interview participants recalled learning surf safety as children, in some instances without choice:
“I got all my lifesaving certificates and distance certificates [when I was a child]... you
had to go swimming whether you liked it or not” (Interview 8, 4 April 2012).
“When I was growing up we all went through our bronze medallion60” (Interview 11, 2
May 2012).
“I was a junior through nippers61 and [was awarded my] bronze [medallion]” (Interview
2, 27 February 2012).
60 A bronze medallion is awarded to someone who has obtained the minimum standard of knowledge and ability to be a qualified lifesaver on Australian beaches. 233
There was also a commonly expressed opinion among Australian born interview participants that beachgoing and beach knowledge are inherent characteristics of Australians:
“Our water baby’s (daughter) married to a policeman and he’s a scuba diver so it’s very
much in the blood and there is a strong focus on water safety for their little boys – our
grandchildren” (Interview 15, 15 May 2012).
This is similar to Koelb’s (2010) description of Franz Kafka’s encounter with his innate cultural heritage. Koelb (2010, p34) explains that Kafka was frightened by the discovery that something actually resided deep within the self, where it might under certain circumstances reveal itself.
This is referring to a cultural memory of the past that had the potential to impinge on the present (Bal et al., 1999). In an Australian beach context of behaviour, cultural memory can be helpful. This was illustrated by the above quoted beachgoer ‘knowing’ they had to teach their children water safety.
“Background memories help the subject survive in a community where the behaviours
they inform are part of “normal” life. They are strongly routine-based [as well as] life
conditioned reflexes ... But the underlying “rule” that determines such unreflective acts
[is that they are] learned in childhood and carried along later in life” (Bal et al., 1999,
vii).
Australian born participants mentioned exposing their children to beach safety systems in the belief that it would supply them with the knowledge they needed to be safe at the beach, for example:
61 ‘Nippers’ is a junior development program supported by Surf Life Saving Australia that teaches beach and surf skills to 5-13 year old participants each Sunday morning during summer. Most surf life saving clubs in Australia has a nippers program that promotes beach and surf safety, community involvement, and exercise. 234
“[My children] started really young at nippers, and they all were very good at
swimming and had [gained] knowledge of the beach through nippers” (Interview 26,
28 May 2012).
“My sons have done surf lessons and things like that so I don’t have to say much to
them anymore [about beach safety]” (Interview 12, 2 May 2012).
Confidence in safety systems and confidence in personal surf skills among Australian born beachgoers suggest that early experiences of the hazardous Australian beachscape enable those who have lived with hazards from a young age to become more comfortable within the beach space. Early experiences leave the beachgoer contented with the knowledge “of our own weakness in the grip of that overpowering strength [of the surf]” (Huntsman, 2001, p10).
According to the data in Table 5.9, the beachgoer group with the highest regard for beachscape hazards was immigrant Australians (68%). This might be a somewhat surprising result considering the wealth of beach and hazard experience exhibited by Australian born participants (who awarded the beach a lower 60% danger rating). Introduced later to the hazardous Australian beachscape, immigrant Australians often miss the early learning period that Australian born beachgoers often experience. Compounding the latecomer’s lack of experience is the breadth of hazards in a typical Australian beachscape, and their dangerousness. Acknowledging the importance of experience in hazard knowledge and beach behaviour, one interview participant stated:
“Visitors from overseas: they just don’t have the same level of training [with
beachscape-based hazards] as what us Aussie kids would have, and consequently they
get themselves in trouble” (Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
An Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis (IPA) of an immigrant Australian’s experience of the beachscape might engage with the individual’s reflections on the moment they realised
235 how hazardous the Australian beach is (Smith et al. 2009). As explained in Chapter 3, Section
3.4, IPA is a qualitative technique committed to the examination of how people make sense of their major life experiences (Smith et al., 2009). Making sense of what has happened to them at the beach, the immigrant Australian comes to understand that to survive they must become more knowledgeable of their new surroundings. This occurs after perceiving their initial
(fearful) encounter with the beach as the norm – in other words, they are frightened into learning about beachscape safety. The more this initial experience is relived and subsequent encounters are survived, the perception of danger diminishes and risk recognition becomes easier (Duffy, 2003). This amounts to the immigrant Australian, as with the surfer, the frequent beach user and the Australian born beachgoer, becoming desensitised to the hazardousness of the beachscape and becoming less fearful – but not necessarily less aware or risk averse. In other words, the more time is spent in the Australian beachscape, the more risks are recognised and accepted. Chapter 7 explores this further.
Drawing on Freudian theories of repression, on how the experience of trauma during childhood can affect the adult psyche, early childhood encounters with the hazardous
Australian beachscape have the potential to give rise to future psychic debilitation (Freud,
1976 [1900]; Freud, 2011 [1920]). Many of the interview participants for this thesis recalled potentially traumatic events that they had experienced at the beach during childhood. Several examples follow:
“I was swimming and I got tangled in [sea] weed. I was a pretty fit kid, strong
swimmer, but this weed got around my legs and I was really struggling. I ended up
having to try and yell but water was coming up over my head, it was getting more and
more tangled around my leg and I kept going under water to get the weed out but it
was slippery. It was probably the scariest [moment in my life] ... I seriously thought I
was going to drown” (Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
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“When I was a kid I got dumped by a wave and tossed around under the water and my
dad – or someone I don’t know who it was, it was a long time ago now – pulled me out
by my ankles. I remember vividly with my eyes open going round and round under this
wave” (Interview 8, 4 April 2012).
“I had a couple of pretty bad experiences when I was younger – like real little, four or
five. First time [was when] my father was drunk and he decided to take me for a swim
and it was really busy (crowded in the surf). I didn’t know what was going on but all of
a sudden the rubber ducky (motorised rescue boat) was there trying to get me in [to
shore] ... I just remember that [other beachgoers around me] were freaking out and
scared” (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
The vivid detail of these recollections is a result of the impact emotion has on memory (Sharot and Yonelinas, 2008). They are representative of an environment that is hazardous and encouraging of risk-taking. These vivid emotional and sensory accounts link the actor to the
Australian beachscape and are similar in detail to the IPA-like stories that Bratton (1997),
Booth (2001) and Skinner et al. (2003) use to frame their position inside Australian beach cultures (as described in Chapter 4, Section 4.6.3). Freudian psychoanalytic definitions of a defence mechanism, namely theories of repression and withdrawal, identify the effect of these early traumatic experiences as significant to the actor, which is evidenced by the detail of their recollection. These recollections have the capacity to impact on subsequent beach experiences in negative ways, such as inducing an unusually high level of fear. The opposite however is also apparent. From the thesis interviews, answers to the question, ‘Did this experience put you off at all?’ was responded to in the following way (respectively by the three participants quoted above):
“No not really ... it was just one of those weird things” (Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
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“No, I’ve been swimming all my life” (Interview 8, 4 April 2012).
“No, it certainly makes me think when I’m swimming in water I’m not quite sure about
... but I mean I’ve always tried to overcome that by training in [the surf]” (Interview 28,
18 June 2012).
How is it then that beachgoers who experienced these potentially traumatic events were able to go to the beach, and do so frequently62 without the psychic hindrance that a traumatic encounter with a hazard during childhood might bring about? Moreover, some of the interview participants who recalled ‘traumatic’ experiences had also admitted to being scared in adulthood of the hazard responsible for their childhood incident. Slovic (1987, p280) states,
“The ability to sense and avoid harmful environmental conditions is necessary for the
survival of all living organisms. Survival is also aided by an ability to codify and learn
from past experience”.
However, the participants quoted above have continued to take the risks and perform the behaviours that had traumatised them as children. It appears that the appeal of the beach was strong enough to override any unconscious impacts of the ‘trauma’ experienced during childhood. The participant’s subconscious was indicating to them that being within the beachscape and performing dangerous acts was worth the risk of potentially succumbing to the effects of reliving the trauma. These themes are explored further over the following chapters.
62The three ‘traumatised’ interview participants cited earlier indicated on their questionnaire that they frequent the beach ‘3-6 times a week’. 238
5.4 Chapter conclusion
“Although Australian beaches may look amazing, they can be unpredictable and hide some dangers that every visitor should be aware of” (Surf Life Saving Australia, 2013c). This statement is written on the opening screen of Beachsafe’s ‘Surf Ed’ webpage under the sponsorship and supervision of Surf Life Saving Australia and the Australian government63.
Users of the Australian beach are aware that the beach is a hazardous environment, and they perceive it as such. Differing perceptions of hazards in the beach space is what defines differences in beachgoing behaviours. It is important to note that despite differences in hazard perceptions, all beachgoers who participated in the questionnaire and who were interviewed for this thesis acknowledged that the beach was dangerous, and that being in it meant risking harm. However, risking harm in this instance does not necessarily encompass a perception of the need for personal safety, but rather the safety of others appears to be of greater concern.
Interview participants were more likely to point at other people or other groups as more ‘at- risk’ than they were. The (sometimes false) perception of safety that beachgoers held regarding their own beach behaviour is discussed in the next chapter.
All research participants (apart from one who did not know what a rip current was) had some knowledge of the hazards listed in the beachgoer questionnaire. Hazards that participants had little experience with were still considered to be dangerous, such as sharks and marine stingers. Participant awareness of the hazardous nature of the Australian beachscape was evident in their high ratings of beachscape-based hazards (Table 5.5) and their frequent mentioning of hazards during interviews and in the open-ended questions of the questionnaire. Despite high levels of knowledge and awareness among most participants, beach use patterns and behaviours did not appear to alter drastically as a result of hazard knowledge.
63 Beachsafe’s ’Surf Ed’ website: http://beachsafe.org.au/surf-ed/lifeguards-top-tips 239
The beachgoer groups with the most knowledge about hazards within their respective categories (i.e. age, residency, visitation frequency and usage type) were participants over the age of sixty, immigrant Australians, participants that rarely go to the beach, and participants that go to the beach to sunbake (based on how participants perceived hazards compared to
‘actual’ ranks, Tables 5.7 and 5.8).
Despite displaying high relative knowledge of the hazardous Australian beachscape, the most knowledgeable ‘beach use’ group go to the beach with the primary intention of sunbaking – the source of arguably the greatest risk at the beach. The seemingly counter-intuitive behaviour of ‘knowledgeable’ beachgoers indicates that hazard knowledge is but one constituent in determining the levels of risk beachgoers perceive in their beach use, and how much risk they will take. This also indicates that whilst perceiving a hazard as dangerous, the beachgoer may not believe or be aware (or care) that danger applies to them.
This chapter has identified that individual experience in the Australian beachscape can have significant bearing on beachgoer knowledge and susceptibility to hazards. The next chapter explores the influence this knowledge has on perceptions of safety, and how ‘false’ perceptions combine with risk-taking behaviours to place beachgoers at ‘real’ risk.
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6 Risk-taking and risk perception at the beach
6.1 Introduction
The presence of hazards in the Australian beachscape has necessitated the need for safety programs. The cost of providing safeguards, such as the lifesaving and lifeguard services that specifically protect beachgoers, indicates the seriousness of the hazardous nature of the
Australian beachscape. The occurrence of hazards in the beachscape is inextricably linked to risk-taking, and to beachgoing. However, acknowledgment of the existence of hazards in the
Australian beachscape does not necessarily mean that the beachgoer acknowledges they are at risk of harm. The question of whether the risks taken in the beachscape are known or unknown to beachgoers informs the third research question, which is:
3. Are the risks involved in Australian beach use known or unknown to the beachgoer?
As noted in the previous chapter, acknowledgement of the existence of danger does not automatically mean that the beachgoer thinks that the danger is applicable to them. This chapter addresses the above research question using evidence from the data generated during in-depth interviews and questionnaire responses to investigate how beachgoer participants relate personal perceptions of safety at the beach to risk-taking. This includes investigating the behaviour of beachgoers who will interact with a hazard they know to be dangerous, or perform an activity they know is risky.
Whilst the perception of safety/risk is an important factor in the decision-making process, a number of factors simultaneously inform the actions taken by beachgoers (as outlined in the conceptual framework, Figure 1.6, and the steps of the decision-making process, Table 3.2).
One of the factors influencing decision-making, specifically risky decision-making, is individual personality.
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In this chapter, I introduce and discuss the psychometric principles of personality testing, the contribution this method can make in human geography research, and the practice of psychometric testing within this thesis. This includes exploring the influence that individual personality traits – specifically related to risk-taking – have on beachscape decision-making and behaviour. In other words, how much can a beachgoer’s actions in the beachscape, risky or otherwise, be explained by their psycho-personal predilection for risk-taking?
Following this, I compare safety perceptions between beachgoer groups and introduce the idea of ‘false’ perceptions of safety, which often accompany beachgoing in Australia. Attention is given to differences in the risk-taking behaviours and safety perceptions of beachgoers from the three residency groups (i.e. Australian born beachgoers, immigrant beachgoers and overseas tourists), with a focus on their perceptions of risk regarding sunlight exposure – arguably the greatest hazard in the Australian beachscape (as explored in Chapter 5).
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6.2 Revisiting methods: how personality psychology informs spatial behaviour
“Putting ‘psychology’ at the centre of an understanding of the relationship between the
individual, the environment and behaviour seems to me to be a reasonable thing to do”
(Pile, 1996, p34).
The psychology at the centre of this chapter is the personality traits that influence individual beachgoer behaviour in the beach environment. The spatial behaviour of individuals is a function of factors such as social and cultural values, personal likes and dislikes, memory, affect, emotion, fears and beliefs, mental capacities, misconceptions, and all kinds of subjectivity, created by the perceptions and interpretations of feeling, acting human subjects.
Pile (1996, p43) explains that “external and internal ‘functions’ and ‘factors’ do not just impinge on perception, they actively constitute perception and are actively constituted by it”.
Just as individuals adopt characteristic styles of social interaction, so too do they develop distinct styles of dealing with the environment, their psychophysical world (Pile, 1996;
Longhurst, 1997).
There are facets of the individual that are hard to explore such as explaining action, as this requires understanding people’s intentions (McGuirk and O’Neill, 2010). Standard social or cultural geographic questionnaires fall short of knowing or even attempting to understand intentions, however these can be investigated by other means. Where psychoanalysis investigates the psychic history of risk-taking, and behavioural and cultural geography explore the socially influenced and innate proclivities behind risky decisions, the bridging step in the decision-making process are the psychosocial factors that influence behaviour (as described and illustrated in Chapter 3, Section 3.5, Table 3.2). Whilst this thesis asserts that cultural, social and political forces influence beachscape behaviours (as will be explored in Chapter 7), the decision to take risks is ultimately the decision of the individual who is subject to numerous external and internal pressures (Barnett and Breakwell, 2001). 243
As described by Dumont (2010, p1, quoting Murray, 1940), a person is:
“a flow of powerful subjective life, conscious and unconscious; a whispering gallery in
which voices echo from the distant past; a gulf stream of fantasies with floating
memories of past events, currents of contending complexes, plots and counterplots,
hopeful intimations and ideals”.
In the context of this chapter, ‘subjective life’ positions the beachgoer as possessing complex and converging motivations for the way they make decisions (regarding risk) in the beachscape. In order to attend to the psychosocial factors weighing on risky behaviour at the beach, beachgoers were recruited to fill out questionnaires to build an in-depth profile about their beach and health practices, knowledge about relevant hazards and risks, and their experiences with these (Chapter 3, Section 3.6). The conceptual framework (Figure 1.5), which outlines how risk-taking is influenced at the beach, considers a theoretical perspective that includes assessing the intrapersonal factor of beachgoer personality. To address the intrapersonal factors that contribute to risky behaviour and more thoroughly explore what compels an individual’s risky behaviour, beachgoers completed several relevant personality assessments within the thesis questionnaire.
Although surveying a sample population to profile attitudes, beliefs, knowledge and experiences is common within human geography, the use of personality tests within a questionnaire is not common. There is, however, published research from within the field of health psychology that has relevance to this thesis – which is an exploration of the socio- personal factors of risk and health behaviours. In addition, these studies often utilise methodologies common to the social and human sciences. For example, Keesling and
Friedman (1987) illustrated how personality assessment in combination with empirical examinations of psychosocial factors can successfully inform research on risk taking behaviours and attitudes. By revealing several personality, mood, health behaviour and social network 244 variables related to sunbathing and sunscreen use, Keesling and Friedman (1987) were able to relate sun tanning to the socially constructed image of an attractive, healthy, active person.
They also claim to have confirmed the generalisation that sunbathers are high risk-takers who value the appearance of health over actual health and whom associate with like-minded individuals and social groups. In another example, Donovan et al. (1991) positively correlated the personality trait of conventionality with greater involvement in health-maintaining behaviour in adolescents. Caspi et al. (1997) showed that a similar constellation of personality traits, with developmental origins in childhood, is linked to different health-risk behaviours in twenty-one year olds with regard to sunlight exposure. These associations implicated the same personality type in different but related behaviours. Allik and McCrae (2004) observed differences in personality traits between cultures, demonstrating that personality traits may also be influenced by for instance, geographical location and physical environment.
The field of social psychology also provides examples of interdisciplinary studies incorporating cultural and personality factors in research such as predicting the affective and cognitive components of subjective well-being (Shimmack et al., 2002), and developing a psychosocial dynamic theory of personality to fit people living in collective societies (Dwairy, 2002). In an example from the risk sciences, Barnett and Breakwell (2001) investigated the influence of the psychometric paradigm (including personality profiles) on the perception of risk, concluding that the impact and outcome of a risk-taking experience depended on whether the experience was voluntary or not.
Personality testing in this thesis was utilised in the accumulation of evidence to explain behaviour and decision-making at the beach within a sample of research participants.
Personality testing contributes to understanding behaviour by assessing risk-taking tendencies, providing an increased understanding of the socio-personal, behavioural-spatial interface that distinguishes individuals and groups of individuals from each other. Personality tests assess the
245 overt and covert dispositions of an individual and were employed to measure the tendency of a participant to behave or respond in a particular way, in a given situation. In other words, personality tests measure typical behaviour (Kaplan and Saccuzzo, 2012).
Making calculations about an individual’s personality in the context of risk-taking provides an idea of how they might react in certain situations, but without absolute certainty, these are essentially educated guesses (Dumont, 2010; Kaplan and Saccuzzo, 2012). The aim then is not to know with omniscience, but to bolster – in tandem with socio-cultural and psychological determinants – claims of understanding individual decision-making.
The potential complementarity of geography and psychology in research (explored in Chapter
3) has implications for synergies in both disciplines, particularly in the context of research into the spatial behaviour of beachscape risk-taking. In other words, the investigation of risk-taking in Australian beach cultures can only benefit from a thorough analysis of the many socio- personal, behavioural-spatial interfaces at the local level (Garling and Golledge, 1993; Kitchin et al., 1997). What follows in the ensuing subsection is a discussion of the principles and methodologies implicit in a study of personality. This is followed by an overview of the methods of personality testing relevant to the socio-personal study of beachscape behaviour.
6.2.1 Personality testing
Personality is the combination of behavioural, attitudinal and emotional response patterns that distinguish individuals, recognising that people are similar in some ways and acknowledging that they are different in others (Kaplan and Saccuzzo, 2012)64. McAdams and
Pals (2007) write that personality psychology is distinguished from other branches of
64In Freudian psychology, Freud theorised the structural model of the mind (ego, id and superego) as an explanation for human behaviour and personality. 246 psychology with respect to three different emphases: individual difference, motivation, and holism. Revelle (2007, p37) writes:
“What a person feels, thinks, wants, and does changes from moment to moment and
from situation to situation but shows a patterning across situations and over time that
may be used to recognise, describe, and even to understand that person”.
Personality testing in personality psychology attempts to quantify these patterns of difference and individuality, assisting the researcher to explain them in terms of a set of testable hypotheses (Revelle, 2007).
A quick overview of personality testing in psychology demonstrates that testing is indeed one of the essential elements of psychology, and all areas of psychology depend on knowledge gained in research or analyses – which are reliant on measurements (Kaplan and Saccuzzo,
2012). There are two types of tests in personality psychology and of the two, ‘objective’ testing
(self-report questionnaires) has proven more valid and reliable than ‘projective’ testing (ink blots or Rorschach’s test for example) (Kaplan and Saccuzzo, 2012). Objective tests relate to the overt and covert dispositions of an individual – for example, the tendency of a person to behave or respond in a particular way, in a given situation. In other words, personality tests measure typical behaviour (Kaplan and Saccuzzo, 2012). The main use of these tests is to evaluate the differences or variations between individuals, but as with any test there are reliability, validity and administration concerns (Dumont, 2010; Kaplan and Saccuzzo, 2012).
Of particular interest to this thesis is the trait theory of personality psychology (often termed
‘personology’, Dumont, 2010). Traits – defined as relatively stable or enduring individual differences in thoughts, feelings, and behaviour – have provided the theoretical basis for most of the cross-cultural research on personality (Church, 2001). According to Dumont (2010), because trait psychology focuses on the differences between people it can subsequently be
247 classed as a social science. In addition, trait psychology offers quantitative evidence in its attempts to categorise people, although this in turn provides drawbacks such as receiving criticism for being too descriptive whilst offering little explanation of the origins or underlying causes of personality (Dumont, 2010; Kaplan and Saccuzzo, 2012). Another shortcoming of trait theory is that it is possible to assume incorrectly the outcome for an individual in a specific situation based purely on trait classification.
To address these problems, personality researchers employ multi-test approaches (Pizam et al., 2004; de Vries et al., 2009; Yarkoni, 2010; King et al., 2012) or comparison testing in and between groups or cultures (McCrae and Costa, 1997; Diener et al., 2003), as well as ensuring high statistical power within their samples. In this thesis, these issues have been addressed in similar fashion utilising multiple psychometric tests of personality and combining interdisciplinary methods and insights from the psychoanalytic and cultural schools of geography, as well as drawing on hazard and risk science and the broader field of psychology.
Travel and tourism literatures also contribute theoretical and methodological perspectives (as discussed in Chapter 3).
6.2.1.1 Measuring personality traits
Personality testing is traditionally used as an instrument to measure aspects of an individual’s character or personality in contexts such as employment, career planning, counselling and other forms of psychological assessment or therapy, as well as research (Butcher, 2009).
Research on personality testing is increasing by about three-hundred journal articles per year
(Butcher, 2009). Most of this research – conducted over the last twenty years on trait theory – is based on minor variations to what is known as the Five Factor Model (FFM) (Ployhart, 2012).
“Although other structures of personality exist, the FFM has dominated selection research and practice” (Ployhart, 2012, p232). The FFM is based on the trait theory of personality, which involves measuring personality traits. Traits can be defined as habitual patterns of behaviour, 248 attitude and emotion (Ployhart, 2012). One such variation of the FFM is the HEXACO
Personality Inventory – Revised (HEXACO-PI-R). The HEXACO-PI-R identifies six personality dimensions as opposed to the traditional five65. The HEXACO model was chosen for use in this thesis following de Vries et al. (2009) who related facets of the HEXACO-PI-R model to sensation seeking and risk-taking – two important trait factors for an examination of risky beach behaviour in Australia (explained in the following subsection).
Lee and Ashton (2004) designed the HEXACO model of personality to quantify the six personality dimensions, or domains they had identified. The HEXACO model has been proven a robust model suitable for cross-cultural correspondence of results (Lee and Ashton, 2004; de
Vries et al., 2009). The six domains identified by Lee and Ashton (2004) are sub-divided into four facets each, giving twenty-five facets in all (the 25th being Altruism which does not fit within the six overarching domains (Ashton and Lee, 2009)).
Of the twenty-five facets of personality postulated by Ashton and Lee (2009), de Vries et al.
(2009) identified seven facets that most represent the risk-taking and sensation seeking traits of an individual’s personality. These include Fearfulness, Unconventionality, Creativity, Social
Boldness, Sociability, Fairness and Prudence. Lee and Ashton (2004) describe the seven facet- level scales pinpointed by de Vries et al. (2009) as representative of the following characteristics:
Sociability; From the Extraversion domain of the HEXACO-PI-R, the sociability scale
assesses a tendency to enjoy conversation, social interaction, and parties. Low scorers
generally prefer solitary activities and do not seek out conversation, whereas high
scorers enjoy talking, visiting, and celebration with others.
65 The HEXACO personality traits/dimensions are Honest-Humility (H), Emotionality (E), Extraversion (X), Agreeableness (A), Conscientiousness (C), and Openness to Experience (O). 249
Fearfulness; From the Emotionality domain of the HEXACO-PI-R, the fearfulness scale
assesses a tendency to experience fear. Low scorers feel little fear of injury and are
relatively tough, brave, and insensitive to physical pain, whereas high scorers are
strongly inclined to avoid physical harm.
Social Boldness; From the Extraversion domain of the HEXACO-PI-R, the social boldness
scale assesses one’s comfort or confidence within a variety of social situations. Low
scorers feel shy or awkward in positions of leadership or when speaking in public,
whereas high scorers are willing to approach strangers and are willing to speak up
within group settings.
Fairness; From the Honest-Humility domain of the HEXACO-PI-R, the fairness scale
assesses a tendency to avoid fraud and corruption. Low scorers are willing to gain by
cheating or stealing, whereas high scorers are unwilling to take advantage of other
individuals or of society at large.
Creativity; From the Openness to Experience domain of the HEXACO-PI-R, the creativity
scale assesses one’s preference for innovation and experiment. Low scorers have little
inclination for original thought, whereas high scorers actively seek new solutions to
problems and express themselves in art.
Unconventionality; From the Openness to Experience domain of the HEXACO-PI-R, the
unconventionality scale assesses a tendency to accept the unusual. Low scorers avoid
eccentric or nonconforming persons, whereas high scorers are receptive to ideas that
might seem strange or radical.
Prudence; From the Conscientiousness domain of the HEXACO-PI-R, the prudence scale
assesses a tendency to deliberate carefully and to inhibit impulses. Low scorers act on
impulse and tend not to consider consequences, whereas high scorers consider their
options carefully, and tend to be cautious and self-controlled.
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Time availability for measuring personality traits is often an issue and consequently many researchers use shortened instruments to assess their sample (Hoyle et al., 2002; Stephenson et al., 2003, 2007; Ashton and Lee, 2009; Yarkoni, 2010). Ashton and Lee (2009) provide a brief version of the HEXACO-PI-R – the HEXACO-60 – in which each facet has two or three items66 representing it instead of six or twelve as in the larger versions (the HEXACO-100 and HEXACO-
200 respectively). Items from the shortened facets of the HEXACO-60 were utilised in the thesis questionnaire67.
With seven facets of the HEXACO-PI-R identified as relevant to this thesis (as explained above), this meant that twenty-one HEXACO-60 items were used – in other words, three items from each of the seven facets68 . Use of the brief version of the HEXACO-PI-R model was due to the time-constrained fieldwork that was a characteristic of this thesis (as explained in Chapter 3,
Section 3.7).
Within a personality inventory such as the HEXACO-PI-R, the test will most commonly consist of a list of items that a respondent completes one at a time. The respondent indicates the extent to which each item corresponds to their values, feelings, or typical behaviour, using a measure that is similar to the function of a likert scale (described in Chapter 3, Section 3.6.1.1)
(Dumont, 2010). The feelings or traits assessed by personality tests are assumed to remain relatively stable over time and across situations (Dumont, 2010). Dumont (2010) explains that when useful inferences can be drawn about respondent behaviour – in a variety of real-life situations – a personality test is considered to have high predictive validity.
66 These are referred to as items, not questions, as many are statements answered by scaled response. 67 The HEXACO-60 showed reliable internal consistency and was recommended for use in time- constrained research (Ashton and Lee, 2009). 68 It should be noted that an extra Sociability item was obtained from the HEXACO-100. This was because the HEXACO-60 contained only two Sociability items, thus obtaining one more item allowed for the seven facets to be represented by three items each, making statistical comparisons between facets easier. 251
According to Dumont (2010), test-takers will often have a penchant for responding to items on the basis of response sets such as social desirability, where their response has less to do with what they believe about themselves than with what they wish were true – and want others to believe about them. However, validity can be improved by generating data through multiple means (Hunsley and Meyer, 2003). Hunsley and Meyer (2003, p453) explain that, “the desire to seek confirmatory evidence in assessments needs to be balanced with the recognition that nonoverlapping sources of data are required for improving the accuracy of decisions”. Hence, the facets of the HEXACO-PI-R identified to most represent risk-taking and sensation-seeking traits (drawing on de Vries et al., 2009) were combined in this research to address the validity issues outlined by Hunsley and Meyer (2003).
The next subsection outlines descriptions of the risk-taking and sensation-seeking scales that were utilised in this thesis. These tests were added to the personality assessment to complement the HEXACO-60 items of risk-relevance, whilst simultaneously fortifying statistical power and validity.
6.2.1.2 Risk-taking and sensation-seeking scales
Behaviour with the potential to be harmful or dangerous can sometimes provide opportunity for a perceived positive outcome (Lupton and Tulloch, 2002a). The tendency to engage in such endeavours is known as risk-taking. People who have high risk-taking tendencies are typically more inclined to put themselves in danger of loss, for the benefit of gain (de Vries et al., 2009).
This section outlines how risk-taking tendencies are measured in personality psychology and subsequently how they were measured from the results of the thesis questionnaire.
Some of the questions concerning risk behaviour research include whether there is a general tendency to engage in risk behaviour, or might individuals vary in the types of risk in which they engage. Pizam et al. (2004) identifies six characteristics common to risk takers: lack of self
252 control, lack of long term planning, sensation seeking, activity level, preference of personal freedom over adaptation of social norms, and need for independence. Evidence has been observed linking high risk-takers to dangerous activities such as drug and alcohol use, criminal activity, driving habits, sexual behaviour, economic behaviour and adventurous recreational activities (Yates, 1992). There have also been numerous instruments developed by psychologists for measuring the propensity for risk-taking (a detailed list is provided by Pizam et al. 2004).
In this thesis, risk-taking was measured using the Jackson Personality Inventory – Revised (JPI-
R) risk-taking scale (Jackson, 1994). Available items for the JPI-R were obtained from the
International Personality Item Pool (IPIP) risk-taking and risk-avoidance scales (Goldberg,
1999)69, as well as the Analog to Multiple Broadband Inventory’s (AMBI) JPI-R items (Yarkoni,
2010)70. The JPI-R risk-taking scale was selected for its brevity, reliability and applicability to this study. The JPI-R consists of twenty true/false statements. Ten items were used with answers scaled in a likert response from one to five. Using a smaller number of items allowed for consistency with the questionnaire’s short completion time as well as the number of sensation seeking items in the questionnaire. de Vries et al. (2009) have shown that a reduced item version of the JPI-R can be successfully implemented with a likert variation when performed in tandem with personality trait measures (such as the HEXACO-PI-R) and sensation seeking scales.
Sensation seeking is a personality trait characterised by the extent of a person’s desire for sensory stimulation (Pizam et al., 2004). According to Pizam et al. (2004), individuals vary in their ability to tolerate sensations of all types. Sensation seeking is marked by attempts to
69 The IPIP website is intended as a collaboratory international effort to develop and continually refine a set of personality scales, all of which remain in the public domain, available for scientific and commercial purposes (Goldberg et al., 2006). 70 The AMBI is a 181-item measure drawn from the IPIP that can substitute for eight different broadband inventories, maintaining the validity of the original inventories (Yarkoni, 2010). 253
‘experience’ and ‘feel’ heightened stimulation by performing varied activities or involving oneself in certain situations. Risk is not essential to sensation seeking however may be accepted as apposite to the sensation inducing act as high sensation seekers tend to seek high levels of stimulation in their daily lives (Zuckerman, 1994; Hoyle et al., 2002). Pizam et al.,
(2004) explain that sensation seeking has been used to explain a variety of behaviours and has been found to positively correlate with the likes of risk behaviour, dislike of structured or formal situations, adventure travel, tendency to avoid repetition, liking of intense experiences, proneness to boredom, and tendency toward Disinhibition (Zuckerman, 1979). High sensation seekers tend to be more likely to smoke, volunteer more for unusual experiences or activities, have occupations that place themselves or others in jeopardy, and have a higher interest in travel and mobility (Stephenson, et al., 2003; Pizam et al., 2004).
Zuckerman has developed the Sensation Seeking Scale (into its fifth form: SSS-V) over a thirty- year period to measure the need for stimulation or greater sensation. In its latest form, the
Zuckerman Sensation Seeking Scale is a forty-question multiscale instrument consisting of four sub factors of ten items each (Zuckerman, 1983). The SSS-V boasts good reliability, longevity and cultural/lingual translation (Zuckerman, 1983, 1994; Pizam et al., 2004). The sub factors of the SSS-V as described by Zuckerman (1983) include:
1. Thrill and Adventure Seeking (TAS) items that indicate desire to engage in risky
and adventurous activities and sports providing unusual sensations;
2. Experience Seeking (ES) items that represent the seeking of stimulation
through the mind and the senses through music, art, travel and even drugs;
3. Disinhibition (Dis), which describes the seeking of sensation through drinking,
partying, gambling and sexual variety ... a kind of impulsive extraversion; and
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4. Boredom Susceptibility (BS) items that represent an aversion to repetitive
experience, and restlessness and boredom when such constancy is
unavoidable.
To measure sensation seeking a short version scale was used in preference to the longer forms precluded by time restraints (as with the HEXACO-PI-R and the JPI-R). Adapted from the SSS-V, the Brief Sensation Seeking Scale or BSSS, created by Hoyle et al. (2002), has shown suitable internal consistency and reliability when associated with other risk factors. This is consistent with Hunsley and Meyer’s (2003) observation that multiple tests improve the validity of results. As such, this research combines risk-taking and personality trait measures with items from the BSSS. Two items from each BSSS sub factor (in Hoyle et al., 2002) were used, creating an eight-question test.
Although the constructs of risk-taking and sensation seeking have been found to correlate
(Pizam et al., 2004) as well as be regarded as interstitial in the HEXACO personality space (de
Vries et al., 2009), they are not necessarily the same. Someone can score low on risk-taking and sensation seeking, high on both, or low on one and high on the other. For example, a tourist who has travelled thousands of kilometres to see the Sydney Opera House might be motivated because of the high sensations associated with seeing a world famous landmark.
Although sensational, this endeavour is not considered a risky one. This distinction is significant to the investigation of behaviour in the beachscape – a sensate zone of enjoyment, fear, hazard and risk.
Details regarding the application of the HEXACO-PI-R, the JPI-R and the BSSS within the survey process are outlined in Appendix III. The appendix also explains how the personality measurements were analysed for this thesis, and the statistical processes involved in data interpretation.
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The next section of this chapter reports and explains the results of the personality tests incorporated into the thesis questionnaire. Visual representations of results were produced in graph form to help illustrate differences (and similarities) in the risk-taking tendencies of beachgoers. These can be viewed in Appendix III.
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6.3 Beachgoer personality testing
This section examines the role personality plays in the beachgoer’s decision to take or avoid risks in the beachscape. Personality tests were engaged to discern the risk-taking tendencies of beachgoers. These tests (outlined in Section 6.2) were performed as part of the survey questionnaire designed for this thesis (Chapter 3, Section 3.6).
As stated in Section 6.2, the aim of utilising personality testing in this thesis is not to know with absolute certainty, but contribute to a mix of methods, which also include psychosocial and cultural determinants, to better understand why people take risks in the Australian beachscape. The next subsection presents a summary of the statistically significant results of the personality tests.
6.3.1 The psychometric risk-taking tendencies of research participants
Personality testing was utilised in this thesis to investigate if risk-taking in the Australian beachscape was a result of personal tendencies towards (or away from) risk, or if risky behaviours at the beach were driven by something other than personality. Some beachgoer groups71 recorded higher risk-taking tendencies than other groups according to the results of the BSSS, the JPI-R and the HEXACO-60 (described in Sections 6.2.1.1 and 6.2.1.2). The following pages outline the significant differences found in risk-taking tendencies across beachgoer groups using the statistical analytic methods explained in Appendix III. Following this, Section 6.4 addresses what these results mean in the context of this chapter and thesis.
According to the results of the personality tests, risk-taking tendencies decreased as age increased (from 18 to 60+). This result is consistent with previous studies in personality
71 ‘Beachgoer groups’ refer to the same groups that were identified in Chapter 5 (listed in Tables 5.7 and 5.9). 257 psychology that seek to understand risk-taking behaviours among participants of different ages (such as Deakin et al., 2004). Differences between age groups were observed among the
JPI-R72 (Figure 6.1) and BSSS73 (Figure 6.2) scores of questionnaire participants, as well as the
Sociability74, Fairness75 and Prudence76 facets of the HEXACO-60. Visual representation of these results may be viewed in Appendix III.
From the personality test results, males had a greater tendency towards risk-taking than females77. Previous studies on gender difference corroborate this result (such as Byrnes et al.,
1999).
72 Significant difference was revealed in the JPI-R risk-taking scores of participant age groups (F(5, 291) = 12.78, p <0.01), and a Tukey post-hoc test showed that beachgoers over sixty (22.48 ± 4.84) had a significantly lower mean score than all other age groups (p <0.01 for all groups) apart from the 50-59 group where no difference was found. The 30-39 (30.5 ± 5.21) and 40-49 (31.89 ± 4.943) age groups only differed from the 60+ group, where as the 18-20 (34.53 ± 4.718) and the 21-29 (32.34 ± 6.411) age groups both scored significantly higher JPI-R risk-taking scores than the 50-59 group (p <0.01 and p <0.05 respectively) and the 60+ group. 73 One-way ANOVA of the mean BSSS scores of participant age groups revealed significant difference (F(5, 290) = 25.01, p <0.01), whilst a Tukey post-hoc test supported a difference between younger beachgoers (18-20 and 21-29) and older beachgoers (30+). Mean BSSS scores were seen to progressively decrease with participant age – with the exception of the 40-49 age group (27.06 ± 4.2) who had a higher mean than the 30-39 age group (25.11 ± 5.61) (although this difference was not significant). 74 a Kruskal-Wallis test returned a positive result in the difference between Sociability scores (H(5) = 16.83, p <0.01), with a pairwise comparison of age groups indicating that the only significant difference was between the 50-59 age group (9.62 ± 0.5) and the 21-29 age group (11.66 ± 0.29). 75 A significant result was recorded between the Fairness scores of age groups (H(5) = 33.47, p <0.01). A pairwise comparison of the H-test indicated that beachgoers in the 18-20 and 21-29 age groups scored significantly lower on the Fairness scale than beachgoers in the 50-59 and 60+ groups (p <0.01 for 18-20 and p <0.01 and <0.05 respectively for 21-29). Similarly, mean Fairness scores for the 30-39 age group were significantly less than the 50-59 age group (p <0.05). 76 Kruskal-Wallace indicated a significant difference in Prudence scores between age groups (H(5) = 14.33, p <0.05). A post-hoc pairwise comparison revealed a statistical difference between beachgoers aged 18-20 (8.21 ± 0.61) and beachgoers aged sixty and over (10.8 ± 0.37). 77 A t-test revealed that females (25.15 ± 5.69) scored a significantly lower mean BSSS score than males did (27.8 ± 6.79) (t(294) = 3.42, p <0.01), as well as a significantly lower mean JPI-R risk-taking score (29.59 ± 6.54 and 31.39 ± 7.12 respectively) (t(286) = 2, p <0.05). With regard to the seven HEXACO-60 personality facets most closely representative of individual risk-taking, a Mann-Whitney u-test revealed female beachgoers (9.53 ± 2.14) to be more Fearful on average than male beachgoers (7.77 ± 2.36) (U = 4.29, P <0.01), with no significant results observed for the other six facets. 258
With regard to the reasons people use the beach, the ‘To surf’ beachgoing group had greater risk-taking tendencies than beachgoers who selected ‘To relax’ as their main reason for going to the beach78. This result is likewise consistent with previous studies into the risk-taking tendencies of surfers (Stranger 1999; Diehm and Armatas, 2004).
Other results included ‘frequently visiting’ beach users scoring higher JPI-R risk-taking scores79 and higher BSSS scores80 than ‘low frequency visitation’ beach users. ‘Frequently visiting’ beach users’ also recorded higher Sociability scores than ‘low frequency visitation’ beach users81. This suggests that participants who go to the beach often (1 to 7 times a week) have higher risk-taking tendencies and are more sociable than participants who go to the beach less than once a week. High Sociability amongst ‘frequently visiting’ beach users is consistent with previous observations that the beach space promotes socialising by acting as a hub for social gathering, fairness (through its more inclusive properties) and physical activity in Australia
(Booth, 2001; Huntsman, 2001) (Chapter 4).
78 A significant statistical difference existed in BSSS scores between participants grouped according to how they use the beachscape according to one-way ANOVA (F(8, 302) = 3.23, p <0.01). A Tukey post-hoc test revealed that the mean BSSS score for participants that go to the beach to surf (32.44 ± 3.84) was significantly higher than those that go to relax (23.86 ± 5.58), and higher than those that go to swim (24.61 ± 6.64). Tukey post-hoc analysis indicated significant difference between JPI-R risk-taking scores of participants that use the beach to relax (29.09 ± 6.98) and participants that use the beach to surf (37 ± 3.55) despite an ANOVA suggesting no significant difference existed. No difference was calculated between ‘beach use’ groups for the HEXACO-60 facets of risk-taking. 79 One-way ANOVA indicated the presence of a significant difference in JPI-R risk-taking scores between ‘beach use frequency’ groups (F(4, 299) = 3.17, p <0.05). Tukey test indicated this difference was between participants who use the beach 3-6 times a week (31.74 ± 6.43) who had significantly higher scores than participants who use the beach 1-2 times a month (26.06 ± 6.02). 80 A significant difference in BSSS means was reported by one-way ANOVA between participants grouped by how often they go to the beach (F(4, 300) = 3.63, p <0.01). A Tukey post-hoc analysis revealed the difference lay between participants who indicated they go to the beach 1-2 times a month (21.69 ± 4.59) who scored significantly lower than participants who go 3-6 times a week (27.36 ± 6.08) and lower than participants who go everyday (27.24 ± 5.06). 81 The only HEXACO-60 facet that showed a variation in statistical difference was Sociability – as indicated by a Kruskal-Wallis H test (H(4) = 11.57, p <0.05). Participants who rarely go to the beach (10.21 ± 2.23) scored significantly lower Sociability scores than respondents who go to the beach everyday (12.06 ± 1.68) and participants who go 3-6 times a week (11.78 ± 1.88).
259
With regard to beachgoer residency, personality test results revealed ‘overseas residents’
(tourists) had statistically higher JPI-R risk-taking82 (Figure 6.11) and BSSS scores83 (Figure 6.12) than ‘Australian born’ beachgoers. These results suggest that ‘overseas residents’ are the residency group with the highest risk-taking tendencies. High risk-taking tendencies, including thrill and sensation seeking, has previously been reported as a consistent trait in tourist behaviour (Peattie et al., 2005; Lepp and Gibson, 2008). The risk-taking tendencies of ‘overseas residents’ are discussed later in this chapter (Section 6.4.2) as well as in the next chapter
(Chapter 7, Section 7.2.2).
The personality measures assessed in this section have highlighted the personality traits
(related to a tendency toward taking risks) of beachgoers according to their demographic, beach use and residency groups. These results illustrate that some beachgoing groups were likely to have greater tendencies for risk-taking than other groups. However, these results alone cannot predict beachgoer behaviour. The results of this section have been combined with knowledge of the other intrapersonal, beach use, socio-cultural and demographic drivers
(listed in the conceptual framework in Chapter 1, Section 1.5) to identify whether beachscape risk-taking is mostly a premeditated behaviour, or a dangerous accident. The next section details known and unknown risk-taking at the beach through an assessment of participant perceptions of risky behaviours.
82 One-way ANOVA (F(2, 295) = 8.05, p <0.01) and Tukey test revealed Australian born residents (27.85 ± 6.86) to have significantly lower JPI-R risk-taking scores than overseas residents (32.41 ± 6.53). 83 One-way ANOVA indicated difference in sensation seeking means between residency groups (F(2, 305) =6.35, p <0.01), and a Tukey post-hoc test revealed this difference lay between overseas residents (27.43 ± 6.01) who scored significantly higher than Australian born residents (24.68 ± 6.42). 260
6.4 Perceptions of risk in the Australian beachscape
The beach is a site of enjoyment for most beach users in Australia. “Beaches are typically viewed in physical and cultural terms in Australia, as natural places of ‘sun, sea, surf and sand’ that support various hedonistic socio-cultural activities” (James, 2000, p496). Although it is well established that people enjoy the beach in Australia (Huntsman, 2001; Maguire et al.,
2011; Short and Farmer, 2012), comparatively little is known of the knowledge and perceptions of risk-taking at the beach. Webb (2003) explains that theorisations of the beach often describe its centrality to play, in the shucking of daily demands in a semi-cultivated site, but rarely touching on the danger and thrill offered in this moment.
In this section, I discuss research participant perceptions of risk in the Australian beachscape.
The first subsection reports the results of the thesis questionnaire that illustrate participant beliefs about personal safety at the beach. These results were correlated against personality test results to determine the significance of personality on risk-taking attitudes and behaviours. Following this, I present an investigation of the different safety attitudes between participants from the three residency groups. The final part of this section reports the influence of risk-taking knowledge (or lack of) on the beach user, which includes a discussion on the ways in which research participants used or ignored their knowledge of hazards. The next section outlines how safe or unsafe participants believed their beach use to be.
6.4.1 Safe at the beach, safe in the surf
The beach is read as both a safe and unsafe place, as stated in the conclusion to Chapter 4.
Whilst research participants acknowledged that the beach has hazards, this did not necessarily mean they considered themselves unsafe, on the contrary, most participants believed they were safe within the beachscape, as Figure 6.1 shows.
261
60%
50%
40%
30% Safe at beach Safe in surf 20%
10%
0% Very unsafe Unsafe Moderately Safe Very safe safe
Figure 6.1 Responses to the questions: ‘Do you feel safe at the beach’ and ‘Do you feel safe in the surf’.
Psychometric risk-taking tendencies obtained from the personality test results were correlated against attitudinal perceptions of safety within the beachscape to determine if perceptions were related to personality traits. No difference was found to exist between the JPI-R risk- taking scores of participants who felt safe in the beachscape (i.e. safe at the beach and safe in the surf) and those who felt unsafe in the beachscape. The only difference found was that participants who felt safe in the surf scored higher BSSS scores than participants who felt unsafe in the surf84 (Figure 6.2).
84 No significant difference was found in the JPI-R risk-taking scores or BSSS scores between participants grouped according to how safe they feel at the beach ((H(3) = 2.55, p = 0.47) and (H(3) = 1.11, p = 0.78) respectively). Likewise, no difference was found in the JPI-R risk-taking scores of participants grouped by how safe they felt in the surf (F(5, 288) = 0.94. p = 0.45). However, there was a significant difference in BSSS scores depending on how safe a participant felt in the surf. Participants who felt very safe in the surf (29.05 ± 5.3) had significantly higher BSSS scores than participants who felt very unsafe (20 ± 6.63) (F(5, 304) = 2.81, p <0.05). 262
Figure 6.2 Sensation seeking scores (SSS) of participants grouped by how safe they feel in the surf.
Because participants who felt ‘unsafe’ in the surf had significantly lower BSSS scores than participants who felt ‘very safe’, does not necessarily position the Australian beachscape as a domain of the high sensation seeker. Just as the experience of the sublime in nature intimidates and awes by emoting fear and joy in the observer (Burke, 1792) (Chapter 4, Section
4.5.3), the high sensation seeker – characterised by a desire for sensory stimulation – is more likely to be drawn to the ‘surf’ aspect of the beachscape. Moreover, Stranger (1999) acknowledged that people who go to the beach to surf tend to be high sensation seekers (as well as high risk takers), which might account for the difference in sensation seeking scores, as high sensation-seeking surfers felt very safe in the surf85.
Another way to determine the influence risk-taking traits had on participant perceptions of safety in the beachscape was to contrast personality test scores against participant vigilance in minimising personal risk. In other words, comparing psychometric risk-taking tendencies,
85 Almost forty percent of participants who go to the beach to surf indicated feeling very safe in the surf. 263 between participants who check for hazards before entering the beachscape and those who do not, can determine if hazard ignorance/ hazard awareness was influenced by personality.
Results of the personality tests suggested participants that did not check for hazards had greater risk-taking tendencies, as might be expected86. However, regardless of the differences in risk-taking tendencies, participants that did and did not check for hazards had statistically similar responses to how safe they felt on the beach (87% and 95% respectively) and how safe they felt in the surf (53% and 52% respectively)87 irrespective of whether or not they check for hazards. These results suggest that psychometric risk-taking traits had little, if anything to do with participant perception of safety in the beachscape.
Knowing how safe a participant or group of participants believes beachgoing to be is a necessary task in determining risk perception and attitudes to risk-taking in the beach space.
This is because a beachgoer that feels safe in the beachscape is often more at risk of harm
(than a beachgoer who feels unsafe) (Morgan et al., 2009b).
Participant perceptions of safety at the beach were linear across all groups. However, it was observed that perceptions of safety in the surf deviated within and between groups much more than perceptions of safety at the beach. For example, participants who had previously been rescued were unlikely to feel ‘safe’ or ‘very safe’ in the surf (Table 6.1)88.
86 Beachgoers that did not check for hazards had significantly higher BSSS scores (25.53 ± 5.98 versus 29 ± 5.5, t(303) = -2.49, p < 0.05) and higher JPI-R risk-taking scores (29.86 ± 6.55 versus 34.05 ± 5.76, t(293) = -2.7, p < 0.01). They also had higher Sociability scores (10.98 ± 2.2 versus 12.2 ± 1.54, U = 2.3, p < 0.05), along with lower Fairness (10.7 ± 2.83 versus 9.2 ± 3.41, U = -2.11, p < 0.05) and Prudence scores (9.8 ± 2.19 versus 8.47 ± 2.07, U = -2.56, p < 0.01), which correlates with high risk-taking tendencies. 87 Percentage scores for safe on the beach and in the surf where the combined percentage scores from the ‘safe’ and ‘very safe’ responses. 88 Corroborated by Drozdzewski et al. (2012) who reported that fifteen percent of their sample was deterred from ever swimming in the ocean again after experiencing a rescue in the surf. 264
Very unsafe Unsafe Moderate Safe Very safe Yes 5% 5% 59% 23% 9% No 4% 14% 4% 41% 24%
Table 6.1 How safe participants who had been rescued felt in the surf compared to participants who had never been rescued.
Male participants tended to feel safer in the surf than female participants, and younger participants felt safer in the surf than older participants. The probability that male and younger participants overestimated their safety in the surf is consistent with previous beach safety studies that have reported overconfidence amongst these groups (for example Morgan et al.,
2009b). Australian born residents were also found to be more confident about their safety in the surf compared with immigrant or tourist beachgoers 89(Figure 6.3).
50% 45% 40% 35% 30% Australian born resident 25% 20% Australian resident born overseas 15% 10% Overseas resident 5% 0%
Figure 6.3 How safe participants feel in the surf, grouped by residency.
89 A test of the chi-square distribution reported a significant score of (10)33.7 (p <0.01), indicating Australian born residents selected ‘very safe’ significantly more times than respondents from other residency groups. 265
Between residency groups, immigrant Australians were the most likely to feel unsafe in the surf90 (Figure 6.3). These results reflect the discussion in Chapter 5, which states that experienced beachgoers were more confident in the Australian beachscape than less experienced beachgoers. Beachgoers with the least experience in the Australian beachscape
(representative of overseas residents) considered themselves moderately safe in the beachscape comparative of the other residency groups (Figure 6.2). Whereas the newcomer enters the beachscape with an air of ambivalence over their safety, experienced beach users did not give much thought to personal wellbeing inside the beachscape. Barnett and Breakwell
(2001, p175) remark that “experience constitutes an individual-difference variable”. Therefore, perception of safety in the beachscape does not reflect the risk-taking tendencies of beachgoers, and, significantly for this thesis, Australian born residents had the lowest psychometric risk-taking tendencies (Section 6.3.1), yet were the most sure about personal safety in the surf (Figure 6.2).
To say Australian born residents are more at risk of harm because they perceived themselves as safe in the beachscape would be inaccurate. Factors such as knowledge and experience contribute significantly to individual levels of risk along with the perception of safety. In fact, beachgoers who reside overseas, including tourists and holidaymakers, are identified as one of the most ‘at-risk’ groups on Australian beaches, and this is mostly due to their lack of knowledge and experience in Australian beach and surf conditions (Peattie et al., 2005; Wilks,
2006; 2007 and 2008). “Although tourism experiences are primarily about the pursuit of pleasure, there are also considerable elements of risk associated with travel and tourism”
(Peattie et al., 2005, p399). The next subsection of this chapter reports how perceptions of the
Australian beachscape place overseas residents in an ‘at-risk’ position.
90 The actual frequency of the option ‘very safe’ for Australian born residents (32) was almost twice as high as their chi-square expected score (17.18), whilst emigrated Australians had a much lower chi- square expected score (2.35) for the category ‘very unsafe’ compared to their actual score (9). 266
6.4.2 Overseas residents’ perceptions of risk in the Australian beachscape
This subsection provides evidence in the investigation of the extent to which feeling safe in the
Australian beachscape was predicated on a participant’s (lack of) knowledge of actual risk in the beach space, with a focus on the influence of residency. As with Australian born residents, overseas residents felt safe in the beachscape, but for different reasons. Whereas Australian born residents perceived personal safety as an extension of their knowledge of Australian beach and surf conditions, which draws on their experience to inform safe practice (Chapter 5,
Section 5.3), overseas residents informed notions of personal safety by perceiving beaches as relatively risk free.
The following comments, made by overseas residents during interviews, demonstrate a lack of knowledge of beachscape hazards and safe surf practice:
“I went [to Bondi beach] with a Finnish girl and she didn’t have a clue either that we
were supposed to swim between the flags” (Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
This interview participant admitted to taking an unknown risk by swimming outside the flagged safety area with another tourist– a safety protocol that neither knew about. For example, on one of the most dangerous hazards in the Australian beachscape (Chapter 5), an overseas resident remarked:
“I don’t really understand rip [currents]. I don’t feel confident that I can read them”
(Interview 10, 1 May 2012).
Other overseas residents claimed a lack of fear, or perhaps regard for risk mitigation and safety:
“My sister always told me that in Australia you have to be careful, but I wasn’t afraid
at all” (Interview 4, 6 March 2012).
267
“I don’t wear [sunscreen] I never have. I actually think that it’s worse [for your health]
to wear [sunscreen]” (Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
These overseas residents elected to disregard knowledge of safe beach and surf practice in favour of risky or carefree behaviours. One overseas resident admitted to risk-taking as part of their standard beach behaviour:
“I don’t really consider much about the risks I have to admit. I don’t really bother with
the flags. I also like drinking [alcohol] then going for a swim” (Interview 23, 24 May
2012).
On the topic of tourist water safety, Wilks (2007, p38) explains that, “international tourists are at particular risk from surf-related injuries, due to their lack of familiarity with the beach environment”. Tourists can put themselves at risk even with familiarity or knowledge of
Australian beachscape-based hazards.
Chapter 5 illustrated that overseas residents were aware of the hazards functioning in the
Australian beachscape, yet their perception of risk remains comparatively low. Overseas residents might be at risk in the Australian beachscape because of an apparent preoccupation with popularised dangers, such as sharks. Attributing too much danger to sharks, overseas residents wrongly perceived less danger in other beachscape hazards and subsequently put themselves at greater risk of harm from another, more prolific hazard (such as sunlight exposure or rip currents). This was evident by the responses of the above quoted overseas residents who disregarded hazards such as rip currents and sunlight exposure – yet these same participants professed a concern for sharks (as quoted in Chapter 5, Section 5.2.2). In an example of how a fear of sharks can overshadow concern for other hazards, one overseas resident stated the following:
268
“The sharks are the only thing that have been scaring me here [in Australia]” (Interview
21, 19 May 2012).
The next subsection documents how certain beachgoer groups may be at greater risk of harm in the beachscape due to misread perceptions of safety, such as those exhibited by the participants mention in this section.
6.4.3 (False) perceptions of safety
An example of how beachgoers can misread their safety in the surf was observed in the self- reported ocean swimming competence levels of questionnaire participants, particularly those of overseas residents (Figure 6.4).
60%
50%
40% Australian born resident
30% Australian resident born overseas 20% Overseas resident
10%
0% Weak Able Competent Highly competent
Figure 6.4 Self-reported ocean swimming ability, grouped by residency.
Overseas residents rated their swimming competence in the ocean higher than immigrant
Australians (Figure 6.4). Many tourists might have swimming experience in the oceans/surf of other nations and thus be able to make a judgement about their ocean swimming ability in a
269 very different context to the Australian surf. This may have led to overseas residents assuming swimming competence that they did not posses in the Australian context. This was a reflection of how hazardous the Australian ocean/surf is compared to many other countries – a conclusion that was acknowledged by immigrant Australians. With greater experience in the hazardous Australian ocean/surf, the immigrant Australian was subsequently more likely to assess their swimming ability as ‘Weak’. With little to no experience in the Australian surf, the overseas resident was not yet aware of the extent of its hazardous nature, and thus perceived a false level of competency in the Australian ocean.
The danger of the Australian beachscape was also observed from the following results:
Scared of anything N Mean Std. Deviation Std. Error Mean Yes 218 31.13 6.647 .637 RTS Nothing / no comment 92 28.15 6.323 .987
Table 6.2 Descriptive statistics of JPI-R risk-taking scores (RTS) for participants scared of something in the beachscape versus participants scared of nothing.
Table 6.2 indicates that participants not scared of anything at the beach or in the surf scored significantly lower JPI-R risk-taking scores than participants who were scared of something91.
The results in Table 6.2 indicate that participants with high-risk tendencies were more likely to confront the hazards of the Australian beachscape, and subsequently develop a fear. In other words, a beachgoer with high psychometric risk-taking tendencies has a greater chance of experiencing an adverse encounter with a hazard because they will be more inclined to perform a high-risk activity, whereas the low-risk taker has yet to develop fear for a hazard they would not intentionally encounter due to the risks. This particular result is rather unusual with regard to ‘normal’ risk perceptions, as Barnett and Breakwell (2001, p 176) comment, “it should be expected that greater experience of risk taking would be associated with lower
91 A t-test analysis (of Table 6.2) revealed a significant difference between means (t(308) = 2.48, p < 0.05). 270 concern levels, if only because less concern may actually precipitate the choice to participate in the first place”. Finding that the opposite occurred from the results of the thesis questionnaire is a demonstration of how perceptions of safety are often misguided in the
Australian beachscape. Moreover, it demonstrates the beachscape’s ability to attenuate
‘normal’ risk perceptions. This is explored in further detail in the next chapter.
A common risk-taking trend amongst interview participants involved the performance of activities that were perceived as dangerous to others but not to themselves. When asked to describe how other beachgoers take risks in the beachscape, some of the responses included:
“They go out [in the surf] if they don’t know how to swim properly [and] they don’t
swim between the flags” (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
“Certainly swimming outside the flags” (Interview 1, 13 February 2012).
“Countless people are always being taken out by rips and not swimming between the
flags” (Interview 30, 15 August 2012).
The participants quoted above believed swimming outside the flagged safety zone is a risk that other people undertake at the beach, along with having inadequate swimming ability and swimming in rip currents. For another interview participant, a common form of risk-taking was:
“Sun tanning” (Interview 10, 1 May 2012).
When asked, ‘What are your thoughts on risk taking at the beach, such as staying safe in the surf and so on’, responses from the above quoted interview participants included
(respectively):
“Sometimes I’ll swim out of the flags if I see that it’s safe. If I’m at Manly [beach in
Sydney] for example [and] the flags are at the south end and I’m half way in between,
271
if it looks safe [even outside the flagged safe zone] I’ll go in” (Interview 28, 18 June
2012).
“When I say we always swim between the flags, we go to a lot of places where it’s not
patrolled and we still go in; but we’re really careful about it” (Interview 1, 13 February
2012).
“I don’t ever take a risk when I’m swimming. I usually won’t swim in between the flags
because there’s too many people, but I know the beach well enough [to swim outside
the flags]” (Interview 30, 15 August 2012).
The above quoted interview participants chose not to heed their own risk knowledge, regardless of recognising that other beachgoers were taking a risk by swimming outside the flagged safety zone,. The following interview participant similarly ignored his or her own risk/hazard knowledge, this one concerning sunlight exposure:
“... I like to get a little sun too. I get harangued fairly regularly by my partner [about
getting too much sun]” (Interview 10, 1 May 2012).
One fifth of interview participants (6 out of 30) chose to ignore or disregard their own knowledge of hazard safety. Four of these participants were Australian born residents. Some
Australian born residents went as far as to describe themselves as (somewhat proud) beachscape risk-takers, for example:
“Well personally I guess I’d be a bit of a risk taker. I consider myself pretty fit and
aware of the surf and what it’s doing” (Interview 2, 27 February 2012).
“I take a lot of risks I think; I mean what would be perceived to be risks [generally]”
(Interview 30, 15 August 2012).
272
These participants viewed their own beachscape risk-taking as normal/safe for their personal use.
Other Australian born residents explained how they were inclined to take risks at the beach, albeit when they were younger, for example:
“When I was younger we were like mad men – going out [surfing], we didn’t give a shit
how big [the surf] was” (Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
“If I was in my early twenties I would get in the rip [current] and go outside [past the
breaking waves], but now that I’m older I probably wouldn’t risk it” (Interview 16, 16
May 2012).
These participants described their own behaviour in the surf when they were younger beachgoers as careless and risky, indicating that through prolonged exposure to life, including the beach, and experience with surf hazards, they have developed a higher regard for personal safety. The following participant also recognised risky youthful behaviour, regretting the risk- taking decisions regarding sunlight exposure they had made in their youth:
“I’m pretty aware of sun cancer these days. In saying that, I’ve certainly done damage
[to my skin] as a kid. But now that I’m older I’m very aware of [the risk of sunlight
exposure]” (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
As observed in the results of the personality tests, Australian born residents had the lowest psychometric risk-taking tendencies of the three residency groups (Section 6.3.1), yet from their interview responses they appeared to be the greatest risk-taking group. Australian born residents tended to rely on personal experience, as well as the cultural, peer and familial influences that had informed their knowledge of the beachscape (through the processes of psychosocial development, socialisation and cultural memory, previously explored in Chapter
5) to avoid what they perceived as risks. 273
Another risky behaviour observed among the Australian born residents quoted above was swimming outside of patrolled areas. Similar to sunbathing/baking or deliberately wading in a rip current, this behaviour was not perceived as high risk to the experienced beach users interviewed for this thesis. Ignoring the risks involved in swimming outside of patrolled areas illustrates a lack of regard for beach and surf hazards. This attitude subsequently places beachgoers at risk through purposeful exposure to hazardous situations. For example, the following interview participants expressed discontent at lifesaver requests to swim in a safer area:
“I don’t like the way that you’re forced to swim between the flags. I think it’s needed in
some regards, but then I’ve been told countless times to swim between the flags when
I’m just taking a dip two feet in the water. I mean I know what I’m doing” (Interview
30, 15 August 2012).
“I can understand why they do it (tell people where they can swim) in places where it’s
a [popular] tourist spot, [but] I think the lifeguards are pretty rude and arrogant. I
suppose they’re so sick of tourists getting sucked into rips they just scream at
everybody, it’s like: bro, just relax a little bit” (Interview 6, 21 March 2012).
Such responses to beach use being risk mitigated, illustrates the importance many beachgoers place on being able to perform risky behaviours at the beach. The Australian beachgoer’s disregard of suggested safe beachscape practice was illustrated by their comparatively low willingness to pay value for patrol services ($1.43 AUD) compared to United States beach users
($2.61 AUD) (Blackwell, 2003) (Chapter 2, Section 2.4.2). This also suggests that beachgoers in
Australia are content with/accepting of a risky beach environment and a culture of risk-taking.
This is explored in the next chapter.
274
These research participants tended to believe that an ‘exception to the rule’ applied to more experienced or knowledgeable beach users, such as themselves:
“I think that people are stupid going outside the flags, unless they are really seasoned
swimmers” (Interview 24, 24 May 2012).
“I’m a good swimmer, why do I have to swim between the flags?” (Interview 5, 21
March 2012).
These participants highlight a perception of high safety in personal beach use, which might not be accurate, and could indicate ignorance. It also highlights a belief that their personal style of beach behaviour would be dangerous for non-experienced beachgoers.
The most common source of risk-taking in the Australian beachscape is sunbathing/baking.
Exposure to sunlight in Australia is widely recognised as hazardous (Garvin and Eyles, 2001;
McDermott et al., 2003; Shaw and Leggat, 2003), yet few interview participants took measures to avoid this hazard. Australian born beachgoers had the greatest awareness about the dangers of sunburn of the three residency groups, notwithstanding their disregard for other beachscape risks and hazards (as mentioned above). This was indicated by the fact that of the ten interview participants who listed getting sunburnt or sunbaking as risks people take at the beach, six were Australian born residents. In addition, Australian born residents were the least likely residency group to go to the beach ‘To sunbake’. In contrast, ‘To sunbake’ was the second most popular reason to go to the beach for overseas residents (after ‘To relax’).
Stanton et al. (2004, p369) explain, “Australian studies generally report higher knowledge levels about skin cancer and higher levels of sun protection” amongst Australians compared with other countries. Garside et al. (2010) provide a possible explanation for this, reporting that knowing someone who had skin cancer was motivating to take more care in the sun; and
275 two in three Australians are likely to get skin cancer at some point in their life (Peattie et al.,
2005).
Another reason why Australian born beachgoers were more aware of the need for protection from sunlight exposure (than the other residency groups) could be due to the time lag between a sunburn incident and the resulting skin cancer. Although it is a significant risk associated with beach use in Australia, sunlight exposure lacks the immediate consequences linked to other beachscape-based hazards (Peattie et al., 2005). The Australian born beachgoer is arguably more aware of the sun hazard after having more time to experience the delayed impacts of sunlight exposure (to themselves or someone they know). This was seen in the comments by older Australian beachgoers during in-depth interviewing, for example:
“I’m pretty aware of sun [-related skin] cancer these days. In saying that, I’ve certainly
done my damage [to my skin] as a kid, and when you’re a child you don’t think of that
stuff. But now that I’m older, I’m very aware of it” (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
“Now, in my life, [sun safety is] very important, as a teenager, not so much. I guess
things change” (Interview 18, 17 May 2012).
These interview participants demonstrated a regard for the sun hazard borne out of beach and hazard experience. These research participants also suggested that they had been adversely impacted by their previous exposure to sunlight. Moreover, questionnaire participants who were over fifty years old (a group that tend to have more beach/hazard experience than beachgoers under fifty) tended to believe that ‘Someone sunbaking’ was the beachgoer most at risk (Chapter 5, Section 5.3.3). Kasperson et al., (2010, p318) explain that “the experience of risk is not only an experience of physical harm but the result of processes by which groups and individuals learn to acquire or create interpretations of risk”.
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Whilst Australian born participants in this thesis were aware of the risks pertaining to sunlight exposure in the beachscape, they were also the most likely group to acknowledge sunbaking or getting too much sun as something they often do, for example:
“I enjoy getting a tan, [but am] also conscious of the fact that I don’t get sunspots or
anything else” (Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
“To lie in the sun: that’s one of my big bad ones, I do that a lot” (Interview 29, 22 June
2012).
“Nine times out of ten I put [sunscreen] on and do all the correct things [with regard to
sun exposure]” (Interview 28, 18 June 2012).
These admissions indicated the correct perception of safety (i.e. sunlight exposure is hazardous) but not necessarily a desire to heed this knowledge.
Interpreting the beach use practices of Australian born residents with regard to sunlight exposure is important because this group, identified as having the greatest knowledge of the sunlight hazard, could be assumed to act responsibly in a sun-drenched Australian beachscape
(Stanton et al. 2004). However, for many of the research participants it seems knowing the risks involved in sunlight exposure was not enough to change their beach use patterns to reduce their risk of skin cancer.
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6.5 Chapter conclusion
This chapter documented my investigation of beachgoer perceptions of risk in Australian beach use. An account of the psycho-personal tendencies that influence the risk-taking behaviour of beachgoers was analysed to assist in this investigation. This was achieved by focusing on the influence of personality on the risky behaviours of questionnaire participants.
The risk-taking tendencies and risk perceptions explored and identified in this chapter were critical in addressing the third research question, ‘Are the risks involved in Australian beach use known or unknown to the beachgoer?’
The findings indicate that none of the common hazards listed in the thesis questionnaire were unknown to the sample population (apart from one participant who had never heard of a rip current) and participants appeared to be aware of the many risks surrounding beach use in
Australia. For example, knowledge and awareness of the rip current hazard was relatively high amongst participants, as was the perception of its danger. Participant perceptions of risk surrounding rip currents were by all accounts equal to its ranking as the second most dangerous hazard in the Australian beachscape (Table 5.8). Perceptions of the risks surrounding exposure to sunlight, whilst arguably not as high as they should be (Chapter 5,
Section 5.2), were for the most part reflective of its ranking as the most dangerous beach hazard. These results suggest participants were likely to be aware of the risks of the Australian beach by being aware of its hazards.
With regard to psychometric risk-taking tendencies, the personality tests indicated some beachgoer groups were more likely to take risks than others were. Younger beachgoers, males, surfers, high frequency beach users, overseas residents, participants who felt very safe in the surf, participants who do not check for hazards and participants who are scared of something in the beachscape, had the highest psychometric risk-taking tendencies.
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However, regardless of the differences in psychometric risk-taking tendencies of research participants, many of these results were consistent with the personality studies of other social or cultural groups. In other words, the psychometric risk-taking tendencies of beachgoers in
Australia are (for the most part) non-statistically different to the psychometric risk-taking tendencies of participants in the personality studies that have been referenced throughout this chapter. For example, young people (Deakin et al., 2004), males (Byrnes et al., 1999), and surfers (Stranger, 1999), have all previously been identified as high risk-taking groups. This shows that the Australian beachscape appeals to individuals regardless of their risk-taking tendencies, and suggests that psycho-personal tendencies towards (or away from) risk alone do not explain why people take risks in the Australian beachscape. A culture of risk-taking is not predicated on the psychometric risk-taking tendencies of beachgoers. However, beachgoers who take risks can contribute to the culture of risk-taking in Australian beach use, as is explored in the next chapter.
Personality testing assesses some of the psychological factors that contribute to risky behaviour by addressing the intrapersonal determinants that pervade decision-making.
However, personality factors only account for part of what puts beachgoers at risk.
Perceptions of safety represented a significant determinant in a subject’s decision-making paradigm, and were therefore critical in analysing risk-taking behaviour at the beach.
Explaining human fallibility and our propensity to take risks, Adams (1995, p16) writes,
“No one wants an accident, therefore, it is argued, if one occurs it must be the result of
a mistake, a miscalculation, a lapse of concentration, or simple ignorance of the facts
about a dangerous situation”.
Many research participants were found to demonstrate false perceptions of safety in the
Australian beachscape, most of which were built on a lack of knowledge or awareness about the ‘actual’ danger of beachscape-based hazards. Overseas residents were the group most 279 susceptible to falsely perceiving safety in this way. Participants often recognised the risk in a particular beachscape activity or hazard, yet failed to attribute that risk to their own beach use. This attitude was most common amongst Australian born residents. However, despite misconceptions of safety, all participants perceived some level of risk in the Australian beachscape and demonstrated some knowledge of safe beach practice.
By all accounts, participant perceptions of the hazardous Australian beachscape (even overseas residents who fear sharks more than any other beach hazard), combined with their statistically normal psychometric risk-taking tendencies, would suggest an appropriate level of risk avoidance in the beach space. In reality, and according to results taken from the thesis questionnaire and verbal accounts in interview, research participants constantly and consistently disregarded their knowledge of safe beach practice in favour of a risk-filled beachscape experience. These findings indicate that some beachgoers unknowingly take risks, whereas the majority knowingly take risks in their beach behaviours.
The next chapter of this thesis provides a discussion on how the Australian beach space itself is responsible for provoking risky behaviour in an individual’s beach use, and that risk-taking at the beach is contagious. The themes addressed in the next chapter follow what was introduced in this chapter regarding why people take risks at the beach.
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7 The Australian beachscape – a culture of risk
7.1 Introduction
Perceptions of risk influence beachgoing behaviours. Previous chapters have demonstrated that these perceptions differ among beachgoer groups. Chapter 6 detailed how the status ‘at- risk’ can be attributed to a beachgoer or beachgoer group according to their perceptions of safety/risk in the beachscape. These perceptions (of safety and risk) influence beachgoing behaviours.
Analysis of interview data presented in Chapter 6 revealed that research participants tended to disregard their own knowledge of safe practice at the beach in favour of an (at times) unsafe beach experience. Moreover, because results from the personality test contradicted the self- reported risky actions of beachgoers, this was interpreted as an indicator that perceptions of risk are different within the Australian beachscape from perceptions of risk outside the beachscape (Chapter 6, Section 6.5). In other words, a unique perception of risk is experienced in the beach space.
Risk taking at the beach has been explained in previous chapters as being the consequence of one or all of the following: a lack of knowledge or awareness about safe beach practice, falsely perceiving safety in a behaviour, and/or disregard for beachscape hazards and risks.
This chapter considers how and where perceptions of the hazardous beach are being produced, and the beachscape experiences that contribute to the culture of risk associated with beach use in Australia. How and where perceptions of the beach are produced was considered in previous chapters by distinguishing beachgoer participants according to their grouped characterisations, such as age, residency and personality. These were defined according to the conceptual framework (in Chapter 1) and include intrapersonal, socio- cultural, demographic, and beach use differences. Although distinguished by these 281 characterisations, participant similarities were nonetheless identified in the personal experiences of hazards and risks that accompanied individual beach use (Chapter 5, Section
5.2.3; Chapter 6, Section 6.4.3). The results suggested that many participants intentionally exposed themselves to risk in the beach space, regardless of knowledge about encounterable risks. Participants who did not purposely expose themselves to risk were also exposed. This effectively rendered nearly all research participants to be ‘at-risk’ in the Australian beachscape. The reasons for risk-laden behaviour in the Australian beachscape informed the fourth research question, which is:
4. What contributes to risk-taking on the Australian beach?
In this chapter, I explore how the physical space of the Australian beach specifically and uniquely influences risk-taking perceptions and behaviours, regardless of individual risk-taking tendencies. McMahon (2010, p. 182) remarks, “the population distribution around its coastlines, affords a majority of Australians with an intense, indeed defining experience of the coast around the whole country”. This ‘defining experience’ of the Australian beach captures the imaginations of local beachgoers and visitors. The signification of the beach in Australia’s contemporary societal and cultural evolution has afforded the beach space unique characteristics that entice people to its use (Chapter 2, Section 2.2; Chapter 4).
This chapter reports on the investigation of specific properties of the beachgoing culture that re-produce risky behaviours in Australian beach use. This includes a discussion on how risk can be taken voluntarily as well as accidentally on the Australian beach. Whilst accidental risk- taking was observed to be the result of a lack of beachscape safety or lack of hazard knowledge on behalf of some research participants, accidental risk-taking similarly resulted from certain peer, socio-cultural, and psychological influences that were found to produce and reproduce a pervasive culture of risk-taking.
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The cyclical reproduction of risk in Australian beach use that was observed among beachgoer participants and identified in this chapter can be conceptualised as the embodied societal subject, as identified through psychoanalysis. Risk-taking at the beach appears to be shaped and reshaped by both the individual beachgoer and the psychosocial and cultural forces that act on the embodied subject in ways that reflect the psychoanalytic use of a ‘Mobius topology’92 to conceptualize the connectedness between society and individual (Appendix IV).
With this in mind, the psychoanalytic geographic interpretation of participant attitudes and beliefs concerning risk-taking and beach use were used to theorise how the prevailing discourses and fantasies of beachgoers shape a culture of risk. The first section of this chapter addresses the reinforcement and reproduction of risk by beachgoers. The second section of this chapter considers the psychosocial and cultural influences of the beach space that attract reproduce risky behaviours.
The presence of risk-taking in Australian beach use is first discussed as a reproduction of the actions of Australian born beachgoers. As reported in previous chapters, this group commonly disregarded knowledge of safe beachgoing in favour of risk-filled hazard encounters (Chapter
6, Section 6.4.3). The actions of Australian beachgoers – the most experienced beachgoing group – are discussed in relation to their impact on the (risky) behaviour of other beachgoing groups.
Following this discussion, the contribution of tourists risky beach use, on a continually reinforced culture of risk-taking, is considered in detail. I once again draw on the concept of a
Mobius topology wherein the risk-taking behaviour of tourists and a culture of beachscape risk-taking are mutually constitutive – they produce and reproduce each other.
92 A Mobius topology or Mobius strip is a surface with only one side that is non-orientable, symbolising that as desire, fantasy, and meaning are re-produced in individuals and societies they suffuse the human experience (Healy, 2010). 283
The next subsection outlines the presence of voluntary risk-taking in Australian beach use. I discuss the attractions to risk that pervade beach use in Australia, and how these attractions, in combination with the increased sociability experienced in the beachscape (Chapter 4,
Section 4.4), signify the beach as a space for (socially) acceptable risk-taking.
Following this, I address how the beach space itself was influential in producing incongruous actions by research participants in the form of risk-taking. I argue that behaviours at the beach were often incongruous for the research participant’s because in the beach context they would take risks that were motivated by phenomena beyond their conscious control.
The first subsection in the second half of this chapter considers how the perception of risk is mitigated in the Australian beach space. The attenuation of risk or, in other words, the amplification of safety (such as the false perception of safety discussed in the previous chapter), which acts upon the embodied subject within the Australian beach space, is produced by various socio-cultural and psychological influences that are considered in detail.
Psychosocial and cultural attractions to risk-taking that inhabit the beach space are detailed within the final two subsections of this chapter. These attractions are not inherent features of the beach space, but have been socio-culturally inscribed upon it. The influence of these attractions on research participants was assessed using psychoanalytic interpretations of participant interviews to connect language and desire and highlight the psychosocial forces at play in the beach space. This section combines interpretations from the analysis of research participants with evidence from relevant and relatable studies to support claims of a beach/land scape that entices risky behaviour in the embodied subject.
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7.2 The enculturation of risk-taking into beach use in Australia
In this section I draw on theories of group norms (White et al., 2008), interactive risk (Adams,
1995) and the risky shift (Gardner and Steinberg, 2005) to explain the proliferation of risky behaviour at the beach. These theories were then brought in touch with the cultural influences of Australian beach use that compel risk-taking. Following this, I documented the influence of the dominant beach group (Australian born beachgoers) on other beach users, which is followed by an account of why risk-taking is an appealing aspect of beachgoing in Australia.
White et al. (2008, p437) write that “behaviour has been demonstrated to be influenced by the norms of specific salient reference groups”. This influence is termed group norms (White et al., 2008). Further, Adams (1995, p20) explains that, “risk is an interactive phenomenon. One person’s balancing behaviour has consequences for others”. This is referred to as interactive risk. These social processes occur at the beach when a beachgoer witnesses the actions of another and attempts to emulate them (such as swimming outside the flagged safety zone).
This has consequences. Differences in the hazard knowledge levels of beachgoers and their ability or inability to assess ‘actual’ safety (as opposed to their perception of safety) means that the behaviours of an experienced or capable beachgoer present an example to less experienced beachgoers of how to behave in the Australian beachscape to comply with socially accepted norms. However, because the inexperienced beachgoer is less aware of the risks, they place themselves at greater risk of harm by mimicking the behaviour of a more knowledgeable beach user. For example, the inexperienced swimmer who follows an experienced swimmer outside the flagged safety zone may be unaware they have entered a rip current and have placed themselves in a more hazardous situation than if they swam between the flags. Examples of interactive risk and group norms are presented in this section.
Gardner and Steinberg (2005) offer another example of risk emulation that relates to beach use. Drawing on Vinokur’s (1971) explanation of the risky shift, Gardner and Steinberg (2005) 285 investigated peer influences on risk-taking, risk-preference, and risky decision-making. The effect of the risky shift phenomenon resulted in relatively conservative individuals becoming more conservative when grouped together, whereas individuals inclined to take risks made even more risky choices when grouped together (Gardner and Steinberg, 2005). In previous chapters, I discussed how research participants took risks regardless of knowing about the hazards they might encounter, even in circumstances in which psychometric risk-taking and sensation-seeking tendencies were low or insignificant (Chapter 6). In other words, participants who were less inclined to take risks (by definition of their personality) tended to do so at the beach. This behaviour reproduces risk-taking activity according to the risky shift phenomenon.
Previous research into the risk-taking behaviour of beachgoers illustrates the effect of the risky shift and interactive risk phenomena. In a study of beach safety knowledge in Australia,
Ballantyne et al. (2005) concluded that a significant number of their research respondents failed to operationalise their knowledge of safe beach practice. Stanton et al. (2004) reported that whilst Australians had consistently high knowledge levels regarding sun protection, their oblivious behaviours and active engagements in tanning and sunbathing are not fully understood. Drozdzewski et al. (2012) observed that almost all their respondents, who found themselves caught in rip currents, did so because they chose to swim outside of patrolled areas or on unpatrolled beaches regardless of having the knowledge to avoid a rip current.
What these studies detail, as has been investigated thus far throughout this thesis, is that most knowledgeable beachgoers are at risk because of purposeful exposure to hazards. Less knowledgeable beachgoers on the other hand, are at risk via the function of group norms, interactive risk and the risky shift phenomena, which lead them to emulate the risk-taking behaviours of others (Adams, 1995; Gardner and Steinberg, 2005; White et al., 2008).
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The following subsections detail how the phenomena described in this section contribute to the enculturation of risk into beachgoing in Australia. The culture of risk that encapsulates beachgoers in Australia is investigated through an exploration of the social and cultural drivers that infuse the beachgoer’s (risky) behaviours and can influence all beach users.
7.2.1 Australian born beachgoers’ contributions to risk-taking
The acceptability of risk is higher in beach use activities than it is for activities outside of the beachscape. This was evident in the ways that questionnaire and interview participants described themselves in the previous chapter – as risk averse – yet many can be classed as risk- takers by definition of their beach behaviours (Chapter 6, Section 6.3.3). Australian born participants were the group most accepting of risk-taking in their beach use based on their knowledge of the risks involved. They represent the greatest contributors to a culture of risk- taking.
As discussed in the previous chapter, a participant’s decision to perform an action in the beachscape was informed by a range of factors, including perceptions about how much risk was involved in the action. Although, for Slovic (1987, p282), “the concept “risk” means different things to different people”, Starr (1969, p1237) states that “the public are willing to accept “voluntary” risks roughly 1000 times greater than “involuntary” risks”. Therefore, although risks were perceived differently, they were nonetheless more likely to occur when the participant was aware of the risk they were taking. As illustrated in Chapter 6, voluntary risk-taking was common amongst Australian born participants, suggesting that an acceptance of risk-taking in beach use is the norm for the dominant beachgoing group.
Kasperson et al. (2010, p318) argue that, “risk experience can be properly assessed only through the interaction among the physical harms attached to a risk event and the social and
287 cultural processes that shape interpretation”. Memories of childhood experiences at the beach afford Australian born beachgoers an emotionally and cognitively grounded attachment to the beach – where they feel ‘at home’ in the beachscape (Huntsman, 2001; Adevi and Grahn,
2012) (Chapter 4 Section 4.5.3). Adevi and Grahn (2012, p29) explain that, “it is when people stay in places, for a certain time, that the senses and memories are stimulated and revived”.
Adevi and Grahn (2012, p30) add that, “negative experiences of places may evoke strong feelings, which can play a role in people’s self-image or self-identity. Thus, people can develop a strong attachment to these places as well”. Memories of the hazards and danger endured during childhood instil an acceptance of a risk-filled beach experience in adulthood, as per the process of socialisation (Ainsworth et al., 1991) (Chapter 5, Section 5.2.4)93.
“People do not first perceive colours and texture, but affordances regarding, for
example, safety. During childhood and adolescence, people develop capacities to
handle different affordances and to make themselves familiar with them” (Adevi and
Grahn, 2012, p30).
Whether the affordances given to risk in the beachscape were an innate reflex, culturally produced process, or both, Australian born research participants tended to be familiar and comfortable with the presence of risk in their beachgoing (during adulthood).
Exploring risk epistemologies amongst Australians, Lupton and Tulloch (2002b) observed that their Australian participants tended to represent themselves as autonomous actors, rationally making decision about which risks they choose to take as opposed to identifying risk
‘scapegoats’ such as placing blame on government and big industry, as is more common in
Europe (Giddens, 1991; Beck, 1992). Lupton and Tulloch (2002a, p114) state that “people tend to see risks that are familiar or voluntary as less serious than risks that are new or imposed
93To reiterate, socialisation refers to the lifelong process of inheriting and disseminating social and cultural norms, customs and ideologies (Ainsworth et al., 1991). 288 upon them” (Slovic, 1987; Adams, 1995). In their Australian study, Lupton and Tulloch (2002b) reported risk epistemologies that were similar to the selection of risks deemed acceptable for beach use by Australian born interview participants – similar in the way that participants from both studies admitted to voluntary risk-taking despite associating risk with danger, uncertainty, threat and hazard. For example, the following Australian born participants for this thesis demonstrated a knowing exposure to risk:
“To lie in the sun ... that’s one of my big bad ones, I do that a lot” (Interview 29, 22
June 2012).
The following participants also reported taking known risks, but insisted these particular risks were calculated, or deemed safe for their personal beach use alone:
“Look, sometimes I’ll swim out of the flags if I see that it’s safe” (Interview 28, 18 June
2012).
“I usually won’t swim between the flags because there’s too many people, but I know
the beach well enough to know where the rips are” (Interview 30, 15 August 2012).
The responses of Australian born participants to personal risk-taking can be seen as an effort to delimit the ‘local’ version of beach use as distinct from other beachgoing groups (Chapter 4,
Section 4.5.3). In this version of beach use, the ‘local’ beachgoer is exempt from normal safety or risk-mitigating measures. This erects boundaries around the dominant social group’s beach use (Sibley, 1995; Wilton, 1998). Psychoanalytic theory, specifically object relations theory, suggests that anxiety experienced by Australian beachgoers is related to the prospect of their ideal version (of the self) as a beachgoer being sullied by non-local beachgoers (the other). This manifests in the form of risk-taking in order to distinguish local beach behaviour from non- local behaviour (Chapter 3, Section 3.4; Chapter 5, Section 5.3). Thus, the Australian born
289 participant preserves their position inside the dominant social group by taking risks at the beach.
Risk-taking is used as an ‘exclusion mechanism’ in the social control of the beach, which is similar to Fischer and Poland’s (1998) study of risk management involving the community policing of smoking and drug use. However, community policing at the Australian beach involves the promotion of risk, rather than its mitigation (as observed by Fisher and Poland,
1998). In addition to this, Adams (1995) explains the operation of cultural filters in risk-taking behaviour. In cultural theory, behaviour is governed by the costs and benefits of alternative courses of action, which are perceived through filters formed by previous experience (Adams,
1995). Many Australian born interview participants have learnt from previous beach experiences that they can survive certain hazard encounters. Cultural (and social) drivers that promote the benefits of risk-taking at the beach, such as efforts to remain inside the dominant social group, dictate the behaviour of beachgoers. In other words, the Australian born beachgoer demonstrates a casual acceptance of risk in their beach use, inherent in their beachscape decision-making, produced out of previous experience, and motivated by social inclusion.
Risk-taking appeared to be an innate cultural reflex of Australian born participants that was perpetuated by the process of socialisation and cultural memory. Chapter 4, Section 4.6.3 outlined how previous beach use, particularly those experienced during childhood and particularly those involving risk, affords the Australian born participant an attachment to the beach space. This attachment had implications for risk-taking behaviours predicated on the experience of risk during these early encounters. As I explained in Chapter 5, Section 5.5, the beachgoer attempts to re-create these early experiences later in life. Addressing how memory and experience of the beach during childhood conjure an emotional attachment to the beach space that entices its re-living, Gilbert et al. (2003, p15) write,
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“Australian beach culture ... manifests itself in differing ways by locking the good times
away in our self-conscious which struggles to the surface every time we bring out the
photos and snaps of our previous holidays, and every time we reflect on our childhood
and youth, and indeed every time we decide to take another holiday – but where do we
head for? Yes, the beach for more of the same”.
The ‘good times’, as Gilbert et al. (2003) describe them, were inclusive of the Australian born participant’s tendency to represent risk-taking not as positive – although for certain groups such as surfers risk-taking is very much a positive venture (Stranger, 1999; Diehm and Armatas,
2004) – but as a normal (i.e. normalised) aspect of the Australian beach experience. Hernandez et al. (2007, p310) state that “we can therefore define place attachment as the affective link that people establish with specific settings, where they tend to remain and where they feel comfortable and safe”
The acceptance of risk by Australian born research beachgoer was observed to have catalytic effect on other beachgoers defined by the processes of interactive risk and group norms (as described in Section 7.2) (Adams, 1995; White et al., 2008). The following quotes by interview participants illustrate the effects of interactive risk on beach use behaviours:
“It was an unpatrolled beach but we were where everybody was [so we went
swimming anyway]” (Interview 13, 2 May 2012).
“I’ve gone down the beach when I was a young kid [with] my mates at two in the
morning” (Interview 19, 17 May 2012).
These participants (quoted above) illustrate the influence of the dominant risk-taking culture in Australian beach use – they were enticed into risk-taking or into a risky situation by peer pressures and a fear of social exclusion. As illustrated in the conceptual framework (Figure
1.5), familial influences also contribute to beachscape behaviour. The following quotes by
291 interview participants demonstrated how familial influences on beachgoing perpetuate the interactive risk phenomenon in Australian beach use:
“My sons have done surf lessons so I don’t really have to say much to them any more
[about surf safety]” (Interview 12, 2 May 2012).
For this participant, taking their children to surf lessons was sufficient for their safety. The participant recognised their children were at-risk in the surf and knowingly but calculatedly exposed their children to a risk-filled environment. Another stated that,
“I was caught in a rip. I was quite young and it was because my dad used to take us [to
the beach] a lot but he never used to tell us things like that would happen – it’s
something that you have to learn yourself” (Interview 17, 17 May 2012).
This participant recalled being taken to the beach by their father, whose apparent intention was to teach his children, though experience. The participant concurs with their father’s methods of learning from self-experience and continues the socialisation process.
The beachgoing behaviour of these participants demonstrate that risk-filled beach experiences during childhood, created by and through relationships (peer and familial) and objects
(beachscape-based hazards) in accordance with the creation of the psyche’s inter- active/subjective world, are reproduced later in life (Kingsbury, 2009b).
Australian born research participants were not alone in the lure of a risk-encouraging beachgoing culture. Immigrant Australians also succumbed to the cultural forces that dictate
‘normal’ beach use in Australia, as illustrated by the following interview participants:
“I’d probably jump in [big surf] anyway. I’ve been scuba diving in some really bad
conditions (Interview 8, 4 April 2012).
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This immigrant Australian admitted to taking risks at the beach based on the (false) expectation that other, non-related experiences were enough. The following participant had taken a risk at the beach regardless of recognising that they had an inadequate skill set to negotiate the risk:
“I do swim in the sea [outside of the flagged safety area], but I’m not a proficient sea
swimmer. (Interview 9, 19 April 2012).
In their eagerness to experience Australia’s beachgoing cultures, immigrant participants were susceptible to a desire to emulate Australian examples of risky beach behaviour. Kahan et al.
(2010, p165) explain that “variance in risk perceptions reflects a form of motivated cognition ... by virtue of contested cultural norms”. Yet, regardless of the immigrant Australian’s previous perceptions of risk in other cultures or contexts, they appear to be influenced by a motivation to gain entry into the Australian cultural mainstream, which includes beach risk-taking (Sibley,
1995). Kell and Vogl (2012, p145) write, “the beach life is synonymous with the casual values of
Australian society and the hedonistic lifestyle so familiar in the advertising of Australia”, adding, “while access is free, there are various rituals and protocol with attendance on the beach”. The immigrant Australians interviewed for this thesis performed these rituals and protocols in order to conform to Australian beachgoing behavioural norms. Moreover, this occurred regardless of the immigrant Australian’s amplified perception of the risks in ‘normal’
Australian beach use (outlined in Chapter 5, Section 5.5).
7.2.2 Tourists and risk
Perhaps the most salient depiction of risky behaviour reflecting the themes of this chapter can be summarised in the actions of a tourist at Sydney’s Queenscliff beach. Whilst on patrol as a volunteer lifesaver, I had witnessed this person sunbathe/bake all day (from nine in the
293 morning until four in the afternoon), then collapse whilst attempting to leave the beach. She was severely dehydrated, with second-degree burns. I learned via personal communication with fellow lifesavers that when she regained consciousness in hospital she informed the staff that she was due to fly home the following day and had intended to leave Australia with a tan
– this was the reason for her excessive day of sunbaking.
As the fourth research question for this thesis asks – what contributed such risk-taking (on an
Australian beach)? A number of factors combined to inform the tourist’s decision to lie in the sun for such a dangerous length of time. For a start, tourists are producers of the interactive risk phenomenon in Australia’s beachgoing culture, the same as immigrant and Australian born beachgoers. This means other beachgoers influence the (risky) behaviour of tourists, and other beachgoers are influenced by the (risky) behaviour of tourists. White et al. (2008) found that group norms directly predicated sun protection intentions in Australia. In addition, previous studies have shown that tourists place a high priority on going to the beach when on holiday in
Australia (Wilks and Pendergast, 2010; Tourism NSW, 2012) (Chapter 2). Tourists interviewed for this thesis reflected this:
“What I really like about Australia is that you have so many [beach location] options
(Interview 4, 6 March 2012).
“Even though Aussies don’t go to the beach at this time of the year, coming where I
come from people go to the beach if it’s twenty-one degrees (Celsius) (Interview 27, 30
May 2012).
As this quote suggests, tourists tended not to be as limited by the same restrictive beachgoing preferences and used the beach space regardless of less-than-ideal conditions (Chapter 4,
Section 4.6.1).
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Tourists contributed to the cyclical effects of interactive risk and group norms that preserve the risk-taking culture of beach use in Australia. Many tourists observed during this thesis took risks due to ignorance of beachscape hazards, which manifested through a lack of (Australian) beachscape experience (as stated in Chapter 6, Section 6.4.3). They are at risk of injury or harm in accordance with group norms and the interactive risk phenomenon by following the beach use examples set by other, more knowledgeable beachgoers (Adams, 1995; White et al.,
2008). The tourist quoted below explained how the example set by other beachgoers influenced their behaviour in the beachscape, performing what they perceived to be normal or safe surf practice:
“I had trouble quite a bit [in the surf] but the current was something that totally
surprised me. I was a bit far from shore and there were a lot of surfers so that’s why I
went swimming there. I thought I was a good swimmer, obviously I wasn’t” (Interview
27, 30 May 2012).
Some non-overseas residing interview participants (i.e. not tourists) recognised the impact of peer influences on tourist decision-making at the beach, for example:
“People, when they come [from overseas], they’re not strong swimmers, they’re with
their friends and they just go [and swim] out of the flags (i.e. the safe zone) and [have]
no idea what a rip is” (Interview 6, 21 March 2012).
“[Overseas residents have a] lack of knowledge and they show off to their friends”
(Interview 19, 17 May 2012).
Such responses reveal a perception that tourists are more likely to swim outside of flagged areas if they see other beachgoers doing the same. Australian beachgoers were seen as the example to be followed in this regard. Moreover, Peattie et al. (2005, p400) noted that
“holiday-makers may engage in activities which they are unused to, and which increase their
295 vulnerability”. Peattie et al. (2005) explain that a tourist will often engage in unaccustomed activities because that activity is a component of the holiday (Wilks, 2006; McKay et al., 2014).
In an example from thesis interviews, the following participants described this:
“Foreigners who don’t understand what they’re doing, they come here and go: ‘oh I’m
in Australia, I’m at the beach, I’m going for a swim’ and they get [in to trouble]”
(Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
This participant recognised the high priority tourists place on beachgoing in Australia, which often goes hand in hand with hazard encounters through a lack of safety knowledge (Wilks and
Pendergast, 2010). The following participants believed the greatest risk to tourists was surf zone currents, and wading outside of flagged patrol areas resulting from a lack of experience and knowledge:
“Travellers or tourists that don’t live near a beach aren’t aware of it (safe surf
practice). They go to the clam part of the water where the rips are [and get caught in a
current]” (Interview 7, 22 March 2012).
“Well I hate to generalise but [tourists] go out of their depth [in the surf]; they can’t
read the currents and the rips [and put themselves at risk of harm]” (Interview 13, 2
May 2012).
“Probably the main thing is [tourists] jump in the surf outside of the flags not realising
there might be a rip there” (Interview 11, 2 May 2012).
Another participant believed a lack of sun safety knowledge posed the most significant risk to tourist health:
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“I see a lot of tourists that are really fair skinned and then they get lobster red
(sunburned from excessive sun exposure). They don’t realise the [negative] effects [of
sun exposure]” (Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
These comments demonstrated the perception/observations of tourists’ lack of (Australian) beachscape knowledge, as recognisable by other, more experienced beachgoers. Australian residents (born and immigrated) often acknowledged the ‘at-risk’ status of tourists. As
Chapters 5 and 6 highlighted, experience in the Australian beachscape correlates with a greater awareness of the risks in beachgoing. Overseas residents, with the least experience, can become unwittingly trapped in the culture of risk-taking.
Contributing to the tourist’s ‘at-risk’ status (Peattie et al., 2005; Lepp and Gibson, 2008) is the need for novelty and stimulation (related to sensation seeking and risk-taking as they are described in Chapter 6). Writing about the effectiveness of sun-safety promotion to tourists,
Peattie et al. (2005, p404) remark, “it is questionable whether these approaches will work as effectively in tourism contexts where people have specifically travelled to sunny destinations to spend time not worrying about things”. On the other hand, Lupton and Tulloch (2002a) explain that people “are more likely to be concerned about risks that are rare and memorable than those that are seen as common and less disastrous”. This would suggest that a beachgoing tourist is especially cautious in lieu of the new risks that are present in the
Australian beachscape. However, the opposite seemed to apply in the beach context, where tourist research participants would often falsely perceive safety at the beach (Chapter 6,
Section 6.4). Lupton and Tulloch (2002a) state that “risk perceptions are shaped by social and cultural norms” – and in the Australian beachscape, risk-taking is the norm.
Although Australia is genuinely a very safe travel destination (Wilks et al., 2002; Shaw and
Leggat, 2003; Wilks, 2006; Leggat and Wilks, 2009), some of its risks including poisonous animal bites or stings, shark attacks and skin cancer have been socially amplified by 297 international (and local) media reports (identified by Wilks, 2006) (Pidgeon et al., 2003;
Kasperson et al., 2010). The following overseas residents described the preconceived fears they held prior to visiting Australia:
“One thing that did cross my mind is, of course coming from where I come from
(Finland) people always mention the same thing, sharks. People make jokes coming
from a place where there are no sharks” (Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
“In Australia I think there are more dangers than back home (Germany), for example
animals or sharks. My sister told me that in Australia you have to be careful at some
beaches where there are animals [and you must] go in the water between the flags”
(Interview 3, 2 March 2012).
The fears expressed above, which were related to specific aspects of beachgoing, are representative of Australia’s international reputation as a beach holiday destination. The perception of Australia as “danger island” (Wilks, 2006, p42) supports its portrayal as, what
Lepp and Gibson (2008) describe as, a travel destination for novel tourism – characterised by adventure, excitement and stimulation. The above comments by tourists indicated an awareness of the risks involved in beachgoing in Australia, which subsequently indicated that they were prepared to take risks on their Australian beach holiday. Lupton and Tulloch (2002a, p114) state, “in voluntary risk-taking, the activity in which individuals engage is perceived by them to be in some sense risky, but is undertaken deliberately from choice”. Lupton and
Tulloch (2002a, p114) also remark that,
“This might be contrasted with taking part in activities that to the dominant culture are
coded as ‘risky’ but are not perceived as such by those involved, or in activities which
are perceived by participants to be unacceptably risky but because of their
circumstances have little choice of avoiding, or of which they are unaware at the time”.
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In the next section, I consider the Australian beachgoing characteristic of voluntary risk-taking as it applies to tourist and local beach users alike.
7.2.3 Voluntary risk-taking in Australian beach use
Lupton and Tulloch (2002a) note that risk avoidance is often portrayed as rational behaviour, while risk-taking is represented as irrational or the result of a lack of knowledge, or faulty perception. Douglas (1992, p13) criticises the portrayal of humans as “hedonic calculators calmly seeking to pursue private interests ... said to be risk-aversive, but ... so inefficient in handling information that we are unintentional risk-takers”. Voluntary risk-taking exemplifies such complexity. When voluntarily taking a risk, there are a range of motivations that compels the individual to do so. Voluntary or intentional risk-taking has been reported to provide a pleasurable experience (Lyng, 1990, 2005; Stranger, 1999, 2011; Lupton and Tulloch, 2002a;
2002a; Diehm and Armatas, 2004; Gardner and Steinberg, 2005; Olstead, 2010), but other influences can be at work, such as peer pressure (Starr, 1969; Lyng, 1990; Slovic, 2000; Diehm and Armatas, 2004).
Edgework is a classifying concept that describes and investigates the social and psychological characteristics of voluntary risk taking including the pleasures and emotions of encountering something dangerous or hazardous (Lyng, 1990, 2005; Olstead, 2010). Edgework is usually associated with high-risk activities such as hang gliding, scuba diving and big wave surfing
(Lyng, 2005). What is significant about the individuals involved in the high risk-taking spectrum of edgework is that generally, anticipation of rewards is not the principle driver of performing the activity, “some place a higher value on the experience of risk taking than they do on achieving the final ends of the risky undertaking” (Lyng, 1990, p852).
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Such activities raise questions about the relationship between normative cultural messages of risk and responsibility and the personal meanings and experiences of fear and social governance (Pain and Smith, 2008; Olstead, 2010). In other words, participating in edgework can be a means of challenging social convention – as I will elaborate on shortly. Slovic (2010) explains that in the perception of risk, feelings serve as an important cue for risk/benefit judgements and decisions. This is known as the affect heuristic. According to the affect heuristic, if we like an activity we tend to judge its benefits as high and its risks as low.
Conversely, if we dislike an activity the opposite applies – low benefits, high risk (Starr, 1969;
Slovic, 2010). Beachgoing activities, which are widely regarded to be associated with leisure and pleasure, are more likely to be perceived as low risk according to the affect heuristic.
Two theories are described in the literature to explain the motivation behind edgework participation. The first places volunteer risk takers as escapists from an over-rationalised social environment within which they are powerless and/or alienated (Lyng, 1990). The second conceptualises edgework as a means of improving on the skills needed to negotiate an increasingly specialised and risk-conscious society whilst controlling the self (Lyng, 2005).
Following Lyng (1990, 2005), Olstead (2010, p88) states,
“People who pursue and successfully negotiate known risks may experience certain
psychological benefits such as strong feelings of self-determination and control. In a
social climate in which self-control is highly valued, edgeworkers may seek the
challenge presented by fearful and risky situations to demonstrate their capacities to
manage their emotions and dispense with fear”
Adams (1995, p51) postulates that,
“The implicit assumption of most safety research and safety regulation is that
accidents are unwanted ... The view of accidents as “Freudian slips” – as the
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consequence of behaviour subconsciously intended – is a significant exception to this
generalization”.
People want risk in their lives because it can feel empowering. The increasing popularity of edgework reflects a culture that is not content, in some instances fearful, of social norms binding them to everyday life (Olstead, 2010). To counter this, edgework can be used as an avenue to escape ‘normal’ behaviour conventions. Women in edgework are especially representative of this. Often their experience of high-risk is a “negotiation of discourses of responsibility and the moral regulation of the feminine subject to be safe and responsible”
(Campbell, 2005; Olstead, 2010, p93). Olstead (2010) contends that for women, controlling their fear challenges social rules on female behaviour, specifically how dominant notions of femininity govern their relationship to risk. In this sense, fear is important in conveying an empowered feminine self who has confronted and triumphed over normative assumptions about women being vulnerable, afraid and risk averse. Challenging the social stereotype of the risk-averse woman is apparent in the attitude and behaviour of female beachgoers with regard to the high-risk activity of sunbaking94. As Section 5.3.3 documented, over twice as many females went to the beach to sunbake compared with males.
Lack of confidence and a desire to minimise risk is more accepted in women than it is for men
– for men, risk minimising is often perceived as “unnatural” (Lyng, 1990, 2005; Lois, 2001,
2005). Within edgework scenarios, lines of emotion are often gendered. A stratified hierarchy of emotional competence places masculine ‘excitement’ during edgework superior to feminine
‘anxiety’ (Lois, 2001). Lois’ (2001) research on the gendered emotional culture of edgework showed that women rarely challenged the low expectations others (including themselves)
94 Whilst sunbaking may be absent of the thrills associated with other high-risk activities (such as surfing for example), it is nonetheless a high-risk activity due to the insidious risks involved (i.e. tanning that could result in skin cancer). Participant knowledge about these risks combined with behaviour contradicting known safety measures, entails that the female sunbaker demonstrates characteristics akin to that of an edgeworker (Chapter 5, Section 5.3.3) (McDermott et al., 2003). 301 have for them in high-risk, heightened emotional situations. The female sunbaker assails these conventions, openly exposing themselves to a high-risk activity with knowledge of the potential outcomes: tanning and possibly skin cancer. This also points to the prevalence of a masculinised perception of normalised beachgoing in Australia, which is associated with risky behaviour (Lois, 2001). This is, of course, challenged by women’s participation in other risk- laden activities such as surfing, but this activity remains masculinised (Bryson, 1987;
Henderson, 2001; Waitt, 2008).
Lyng (2005, p5) states that the challenge in edgework literature is “to explain how life- threatening experiences come to acquire a seductively appealing character in the contemporary social context”. Slovic (1987, p282) explains that “the public will accept risks from voluntary activities that are roughly 1000 times as great as it would tolerate from involuntary hazards that provide the same level of benefits” (Starr, 1969). The risks involved in sunbaking, as well as other high-risk beachscape activities (such as surfing, scuba diving, chain surfing (Figure 7.1) etc.) may appear disproportionate when weighted against the positive outcomes. However, many beachgoers still actively engage with these beachscape activities.
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Figure 7.1 A volunteer risk-taker chain surfing at Dee Why. (Source: Dan Morris, www.rusticmedia.com.au)
In contrast to the beachgoer groups more inclined to take risks at the beach, other groups perceived an unsatisfying risk-to-reward ratio with regard to risk-taking (Chapter 6, Section
6.4.1 also highlights these differences). For example, immigrant Australians and research participants over sixty were particularly safety conscious at the beach (as reported in Chapters
5 and 6). However, members of these groups performed risky activities in the beachscape despite their otherwise prudent tendencies and aversion to beachscape risks. The following statements by two immigrant Australians over sixty years of age are representative of these particular groups being risk-averse:
“I tend to stay inside the flags. I’m not a very strong swimmer. I’m not happy in the surf
... When I came to Australia I was thirty-two and very fit but at the same time not a
strong swimmer [but I was] in the surf with everybody else” (Interview 24, 24 May
2012).
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This participant initially chose to engage in risk-taking as a newcomer to the Australian beach.
However, their experience with risk in the beachscape has subsequently rendered them more hazard-aware and risk-averse. As an extension to this example, the following immigrant
Australian, who also demonstrated risk-aversion as well as hazard awareness and knowledge of safe practice, was willing to engage in edgework in the Australian beachscape:
“I swim between the flags, understand about rips and don’t go in [the ocean] when the
surf’s too big ... [but] I’d probably jump in [big surf] anyway. I’ve been scuba diving in
some really bad conditions (Interview 8, 4 April 2012).
In the next section of this chapter, I explore how the beachscape itself is a space of masculinised risk enticement in Australia that can override the beachgoers safety intentions, resulting in risk-taking regardless of beachgoer hazard awareness, risk-aversion or knowledge of safe practice. This accounts for why the risk-averse become risk-takers and why knowledgeable beachgoers can often be classed as ‘at-risk’ at the Australian beach.
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7.3 Land-/beach-/risk-scape
While approximately ninety-five percent of beachgoers in Australia know it is safest to swim between the flags, about sixty-five percent choose not to do so, either some of the time or always (Brander, 2013). Brander (2013, p124) states, “people do not have the combination of knowledge and motivation to swim between the flags on patrolled beaches”.
Whilst agreeing with Brander (2013), I would add that there is also a motivation (to varying degrees) to disregard safe practice in the beachscape and perform acts that accompany higher levels of risk – levels of risk that the beachgoer would not consider acceptable in other environments. In this section, I assert that there are two principle reasons why levels of risk acceptance are heightened in the Australian beachscape:
1) The beach space in Australia attenuates risk; and,
2) There are psychosocial and cultural attractions to risk that are in operation within the
Australian beachscape.
The following subsection addresses the first reason by drawing on relevant examples taken from the literature and supported through the analysis and interpretation of in-depth interviews with beachgoers. Risk perception in the beach space was asserted to be influenced by the spatial themes of place attachment (Hernandez et al., 2007), sense of home (Cloutier-
Fisher and Harvey, 2009), sense of place (Stedman, 2002) and ontological security (Harries,
2008), which, along with risk compensation (Adams, 1995), engendered notions of safety in research participants.
7.3.1 The attenuation of risk in the Australian beach space
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Within this subsection, I will explain how risk is attenuated in the beachscape and why this contributes to the occurrence of beachscape risk-taking. The theoretical framework of this section follows the concept of the social amplification and attenuation of risk described by
Kasperson and Kasperson (1996, p95), who state, “risk is a complex phenomenon that involves both bio-physical and social dimensions”. This entails that group norms, being a social phenomenon, has implications for risk perception at the beach. To re-cap, group norms and the interactive risk phenomenon dictate that a less experienced beachgoer will emulate the
(risky) behaviours of more experienced beachgoers. As a result, a culture of ‘because everyone does it, it must be safe’ becomes established95. The less experienced beachgoer’s perception of risk is thus attenuated when they witness other, more experienced beachgoers exhibiting certain behaviours or engaging with certain hazards. For instance:
“When I go surfing I do take certain risks. I might go and try [to] take on big waves
even though I’m just a beginner” (Interview 27, 30 May 2012).
This participant was at-risk through purposeful engagement with a dangerous situation – a situation brought about by emulating the ‘normal’ surfing practice of risk-taking (Stranger,
1999; Diehm and Armatas, 2004).
In another example of risk attenuation, English et al. (2008, p74) explain that “natural environments can provoke a sense of feeling ‘at one’ with nature, and provide tranquillity, relaxation, and rejuvenation”, similar to interview participants’ descriptions of their experiences of the Australian beachscape, in Chapter 4, Section 4.5, as relaxing. A by-product of experiencing the relaxing tranquillity of a natural environment such as the beach was explored by Harries (2008), who writes that people prefer “to think of nature as a positive
95On the other hand, the risky shift phenomenon (also described in Section 7.2) draws risk-takers together at the beach (such as surfers or sunbakers acting in groups). However, the personality test results reported in Chapter 6 show that most beachgoers are not high risk-takers. Therefore, the beachscape does not attract high risk-takers only. It is more likely that risk-taking in the beachscape is influenced by a selection of other factors (as discussed in this section). 306 moral force, they hesitate to view it as a source of real danger ... The perceived moral neutrality of nature seems to render [natural hazards] more acceptable”.
In addition, and contributing to the influence that natural landscapes have attenuating perceptions of risk, was the influence of place attachment. Hernandez et al. (2007, p310) explain that “we can define place attachment as the affective link that people establish with specific settings, where they tend to remain and where they feel comfortable and safe”.
Harries (2008) observed that this attachment to place (or space) was experienced in participants’ representation of home (also explored by Billing, 2006). This was observed among the attachments participants felt for specific beachscapes.
Whilst researching evacuation procedures among a group of residents vulnerable to a natural hazard (specifically a volcanic eruption), Bird et al. (2009) observed that eighty percent of participants believed they were safer to stay in their homes during an (eruption) event when it was not. Bird et al.’s (2009) findings were consistent with Harries’ (2008) comments that representations of home include notions of continuity, safety, relaxation and familial affection.
These notions are consistent with the way research participants for this thesis experienced
‘their’ beachscape as a place of safety, relaxation and familial congregation (Chapter 4, Section
4.6.3). In other words, many participants harboured sentiments of the beachscape that were consistent with sentiments of one’s home (Dovey, 1985; Kaltenborn, 1997; Cloutier-Fisher and
Harvey, 2009; Anderson, 2013b).
A sense of home develops through a process that connects past and future for individuals, where ideas about ‘home’ are imbued with subjective experiential qualities (Dovey, 1985;
Cloutier-Fisher and Harvey, 2009). Cloutier-Fisher and Harvey (2009, p248) state, “such notions are illustrative of the research and extend ideas of home beyond the physical dwelling”. This describes the possibility that for some, interaction with the beachscape can foster a dialogue between the self and a sense of home (Anderson, 2013b). For this to occur the beach must 307 hold past and present significance for the individual – as it was for thesis research participants born and raised near the beach (Kaltenborn, 1997; Cloutier-Fisher and Harvey, 2009;
Anderson, 2013a).
A demonstration of how the beach was perceived similarly to the home was observed in the way interview participants spoke of the beach as a space for familial gathering. For example:
“My son and my wife, we’d be in the rock pool each morning before we did anything
else” (Interview 24, 24 May 2012).
For another participant:
“The beach is just a place I’ve always known, I’d never try and keep my kids away from
it. I want them to experience [the beach] too, and they love it” (Interview 17, 17 May
2012).
In an example of the way in which the subject can experience a sense of home at the beach, the following interview participant illustrated the home-like representations of continuity, relaxation, and safety in the face of danger, that are symbolic of Australian beachgoing:
“Tama’s (Tamarama beach in Sydney) where I spend most of my time during the week
... it calms me, it relaxes me ... and I know it’s a really dangerous beach” (Interview 28,
18 June 2012).
These statements demonstrate the sense of home engendered by the beach space in Australia.
The last statement in particular illustrates the potential for the beach landscape to produce a sense of home that affectively attenuates risk perceptions (Harries, 2008). Wood et al. (2008) discuss how “perceptions can be a powerful and independent factor that may affect people through different pathways than actual experiences”. Hence, the notions of safety, comfort,
308 continuity and familial affection that were conveyed by research participants are as pertinent to understanding risky behaviour as hazard knowledge or previous experience.
An extension to the sense of home experienced at the beach was how participants attached meaning to the beach space. As people spend time at the beach, the routines they develop there, the aspects of their identities that they project onto the fabric of the beachscape and the accretion of personal and inter-personal memories, all imbue the place with their sense of who they are (Harries, 2008; Anderson, 2013a, 2013b). Stedman (2002) explains that the sense of place that people experience weaves together nature, cognition and social aspects whether they are individualistic place meanings, or common meanings based on shared or similar experiences. Illustrations of this within the context of the Australian beach were observed in the processes of territoriality and localism that inhabited the beach experience for many research participants (Chapter 4, Section 4.6.4). Moreover, as a condition of experiencing attachment to place, territoriality and localism represent the notions of safety attached to the experience of a familiar, home-like space, safe from ‘the other’ (Sibley, 1995). Harries (2008, p487) explains one of the important functions of experiencing safety in the home or home-like space:
“to acknowledge that your home is not safe, and that nature is not always benign, is to
enter a phenomenological territory where material security is no longer certain and
new anxieties must be faced”.
This sense of safety is termed ontological security (Harries, 2008). Harries (2008) concludes that the mental suppression of awareness of this risk (regarding the possibility that a natural hazard will occur) can be seen as instrumentally rational, for it protects ontological security, and, hence, psychic health. Risk was attenuated in the home-like beach space through the suppression of hazard knowledge. This enabled research participants to experience the beach without being conscious of fear from hazard-based harm. When describing memories of 309 hazard encounters, some interview participants spoke of how their perception of risk was suppressed in this manner, for example:
“My mum took us to the beach all the time. It was scary when it first happened [getting
dumped by a wave, but] then the next time I would be a little more cautious until I got
comfortable again with the waves” (Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
This participant illustrates how the memory of a hazardous experience at the beach was gradually suppressed enabling them to re-encounter the same situation with a mitigated perception of the risks. This suppression of hazard knowledge enabling the perception of a risk-free beach experience is related to what Adams (1995) describes as risk compensation.
Risk compensation refers to the possibility of a behavioural response depending on the perceived level of risk (Adams, 1995). Within the context of the Australian beachscape, this refers to the likelihood that higher levels of monitoring and protection from patrol and lifeguard services has the effect of attenuating perceptions of risk at the beach. For example, the following interview participants perceived risk outside the flagged safety area whilst perceiving safety inside the flags:
“I feel safe in between the flags [but] I still sometimes go outside the flags [and] I get
worried and go back in between [the flags]” (Interview 3, 2 March 2012).
“So long as I stick in[between] the flags [I will be safe] because I know they’ve been put
there for a reason – it’s been checked and it’s safe [to swim there]” (Interview 12, 2
May 2012).
As Chapter 5 illustrated, the beachgoer is not free of risk just because they are in-between the flags. This is due to the presence of hazards in the Australian beach environment that also exist
310 inside the flagged area such as dumping shore waves, watercraft, longshore feeder currents96, sunburn, marine stingers, submerged objects, large waves and (of course) sharks. Due to this, participants were still at-risk regardless of their attenuated perception of risk inside the flagged swimming area.
Alongside the processes relating to the influence of risk attenuation on beach behaviours described in this subsection, a number of psychosocial and cultural attractions to risk-taking that operate within the beach space influenced the behaviour of research participants. Whilst risk perception was attenuated at the beach, risk-taking behaviour was simultaneously encouraged by the processes described in the following sections. These included the social and cultural influences that contributed to the beach’s appeal in Australia, such as increased sociability, attraction to the sublime in nature and participation in cultural norms, such as risk- taking (Chapter 4). The physical landscape of the beach is also explored with regard to the psychological influences that the beach space had on the risk-taking behaviours of research participants, including the existence of innate human preferences for certain environments.
The psychosocial attraction of risk-taking is addressed, as well as the cultural benefits that befit the wearer of a suntan. In an extension to what was presented in Chapter 5, consideration is also given to how a negative hazard experience can potentially influence attractions to risk-taking in the beachscape.
7.3.2 Psychosocial and cultural attractions to risk in the Australian beachscape
Within this subsection is a description of contributing factors to a culture of beachscape risk- taking. These factors have been defined and assessed in terms of how they interact with beachgoers. This was done in compliance with the conceptual model of this thesis that
96 The flagged swimming areas marking safe swimming do not (usually) contain rip currents within them. This is because flags are primarily set up for swimmers to avoid rip currents. 311 provides a framework for the influences on risky behaviours at the beach in Australia (Figure
1.5). As has been explored so far in this thesis, risky behaviours in the Australian beachscape are a consequence of personalised patterns of beach use that differ from beachgoer to beachgoer, yet are also the result of embodied widespread social, cultural and psychological influences. This subsection lists and explores the processes of the Australian beachscape that influenced research participants no matter their awareness, knowledge or perception of beachscape-based hazards and risks.
A study by Jang et al. (2013) demonstrates the attractiveness of risk in the beach space, while at the same time providing an example of how risk is attenuated in the Australian beach landscape. In this study, Jang et al. (2013) examined cultural and attitudinal factors related to sunlight-exposure behaviours among immigrant women of a particular cultural group living in
Australia. Participants in this study showed strongly opposed attitudes towards sun tanning and sun exposure derived from a cultural preference for maintaining fair coloured skin.
However, participants would reportedly spend “a day at the beach” despite being averse to sun tanning, despite cultural pressures to avoid sunlight exposure, and despite knowing that the potential for sunburn is particularly high in Australia (Jang et al., 2013, p513). Apart from spending “a day at the beach”, participants were otherwise strongly motivated in their active avoidance of sunlight. As mentioned, this was consequent of a tradition of covering skin when outdoors, originating in an anti-suntan culture.
The risky behaviours of participants in the study by Jang et al. (2013) were in part influenced by the interactive risk phenomenon (Adams, 1995). However, the risk of sunlight exposure and the cultural drivers motivating participants to avoid sunlight suggests that more than the effects of interactive risk influenced the behaviour of these women. The women adhered to sun safety when they were at the beach (by covering up with clothing and applying sunscreen), but had nonetheless made the decision to expose themselves to a longer period of sunlight
312 than they would normally tolerate elsewhere. In other words, their actions in the beachscape were incongruous with their attitudes about limiting time spent in the sun, regardless of minimising the risk of sunlight exposure through protective actions.
These behaviours (by participants in Jang et al, 2013) demonstrate the strength of the influence of Australia’s beachgoing culture. They position the beachscape as a place where normal risk perceptions and attitudes are put aside (to an extent) or altered in order to participate in the accepted risk-taking culture of beachgoing.
Contributing to how the participants in Jang et al. (2013) experienced attenuation of their normal aversion to sunlight exposure was the ex/a-social characteristic of the beach space.
Chapter 4, Section 4.4 explored how the site of the beach acted as a space of uninhibited social interaction for research participants, produced out of the reliving of infantile encounters with play. Within the context of risky behaviour, the prospect of reliving infantile pleasures has the effect of attracting the individual to the beach in order to perform (risky) behaviours that satisfy these pleasures. Diehm and Armatas (2004) state that the Australian beachscape presents an avenue for socially acceptable risk-taking, satisfying needs for sensation and experience seeking and allaying the wants of the id – the source of the beachgoer’s ‘need’ for infantile satisfaction. Id satisfaction tends to be associated with anti-social behaviour, which
Freud (1961 [1923]) argues is akin to that of an animal in nature. For Webb (2003, p82),
“It is, arguably, the beach’s identity as a liminal space that allows it to act thus as a
metaphor [for duality], because it is a literal littoral, a space-between: between fluid
and solid, between safety and risk, between the social and the natural”.
The beach space eliminates the socially constructed barriers that tend to position risk-taking and risk-takers in the city as nonconforming/unsociable, and the psychic barriers established by the ego that mitigate the id (Freud, 1961 [1923]; Fiske, 1989; Webb, 2003; Diehm and
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Armatas, 2004). As one research participant reported, describing a scene in which actions that would usually be considered socially unacceptable:
“A lot of people had black eyes and skin ripped off their face [from waves dumping
them onto a shallow sand bank]. I was going out in the tube getting [dumped] by the
waves every single time because I couldn’t go underneath it – but I wanted the tube
because I wanted to pass the break and then just float and chill in the ocean after [the
surf zone]” (Interview 21, 19 May 2012).
Here, blackened eyes and ripped off skin resulting from risk-taking were accepted as ‘normal’, and id satisfaction (“I wanted to pass the break”) was achieved through risk-taking in a socially acceptable manner.
The cultural significance of the beach in Australian society, and its contribution to the lure of beach use in this country cannot be understated (Booth, 2001; Huntsman, 2001; Hartley and
Green, 2006). This cultural significance includes what Fiske (1989) describes as the liminal and contingent ‘magic’ of the anomalous beach – the ability of the beach to act as culture and/or nature depending on the beachgoer’s needs. Hartley and Green (2006, p348) state that “the interplay of culture and nature is an important myth-generating mechanism to address the plight of contemporary Australian existence”. The Australian beach represents both (culture and nature).
The cultural significance of the beach in Australia has been well researched (Booth, 2001;
Huntsman, 2001; Skinner et al., 2003; Brawley, 2007; Jaggard, 2007; Hosking et al., 2009;
Metusela and Waitt, 2012). The significance of the natural landscape of the Australian beachscape in the context of behaviour has not received such attention. Recognising the psychological influence of the beach landscape on people is an important component of understanding beachgoer behaviour and experiences of risk at the beach (Bonnes and
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Bonaiuto, 2002). For example, the closeness to nature that research participants felt when they were at the beach (as opposed to the city) had the effect of withdrawing them from the
‘normal’ safety-risk paradigm experienced in the city (Fiske, 1989; Webb, 2003). This was observed in the way participants performed actions they knew to be unsafe and dangerous.
For instance, the following participants demonstrated how risks were taken at the beach regardless of fear:
“I’m actually really afraid of waves. I mean I go in the water, but I really have to check
the waves before” (Interview 4, 6 March 2012).
Or, as in the case of this participant, regardless of safety knowledge:
“I always used to say to my daughter ‘never just jump straight in the surf, always sit
there for a good five minutes and wait for the set [of waves] so you can understand
where the waves are breaking’ ... we should take our own advice. When I was younger
we we’re like mad men, going out, didn’t give a shit how big it (the surf) was”
(Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
Russell and Ward (1982, p652) posit that “behaviour that occurs in one place, would be out of place elsewhere”. Building on Russell and Ward’s (1982) research on environment-specific behaviour, Jang et al. (2013, p513) considered decisions to spend “a day at the beach”, which in other contexts than Australia would be incongruous. Bonnes and Secchiaroli (1995) explain that perception revolves around the relationship, or the correspondence, between psychological processes and characteristics of the physical environment. The physical-spatial components of human-environment relationships observed in the beachscape were seen in the way research participants behaved differently when at the beach compared with other environments (Jang et al., 2013). Interview participants for this thesis explained how their
315 actions (and those of others) were unique to the beach landscape. For example, the following participant attempted to describe the uniqueness of the physical environment:
“... just the outdoors lifestyle that a beach provides you, there’s nothing like it”
(Interview 9, 19 April 2012).
Another participant noted that people appear to behave differently in the beachscape:
“You’ve only got to go down to [the beach] any given day when it’s raining, there’s
plenty of people running along and people get out more [as opposed to when outside
the beachscape]” (Interview 5, 21 March 2012).
Beachscape-specific behaviour was self-identified by the following participant who recognised their actions were discordant with their normal attitude/behaviour:
“Swimming, I’ll take a dip at [the beach] ... but I don’t really like swimming” (Interview
29, 22 June 2012).
Connecting the incongruous behaviours of being in the rain and taking dips, as reported by these participants, was the beach space. The risk-taking thread sewn through Australia’s beach going culture, which is woven into the beach landscape, is similar to how Pile (2005) describes the familiar experience of cities as indefinably distinct from one another. Drawing on Pile
(2005), risky behaviour is a beachscape phantasm in Australia, unconsciously reproduced in the beach space, akin to an urban uncanny97 (Donald, 1999). However, risky behaviour among thesis participants tended to be more tangible than a phantasm, evident in its many visible manifestations. One of the most visible indicators of the manifestation of beachscape-specific behaviour, namely risky behaviour, can be observed in beachgoing attire (Figure 7.2). Beach attire, landscape and the embodied beachgoing subject are discussed in the next subsection.
97 The uncanny is “a flickering moment of embroilment in the experience of something at once strange and familiar” (Royle, 2003, vii) (Appendix IV). 316
7.3.2.1 Linking embodied beach bodies to landscape and risk-taking
Figure 7.2 A comparison between the ‘normal’ dress attire of beachgoers (Bondi beach in Sydney) (top) and the attire of city goers (Federation Square, Melbourne) (bottom). (Sources: Todd Walton, February 2011; http://www.abc.net.au/news/2012-12-18/federation-square-before-murdoch- memorial/4433528)
As Figure 7.2 illustrates, beachgoing attire is visibly different to city-going attire. This is common to most beaches around the (western) world, where beach costumes tend to consist of minimal clothing (Figure 7.2). “Most beach culture in western societies operates as a mechanism to disguise the physical animal implicit in human use of the natural environment of the beach” (Green, 2003, p126). 317
A consequence of the scantily clad beachgoer is the encroachment of the sexual and erotic gaze98. This follows Foucault’s (1977) ideas about the gaze and surveillance, in which the function of the gaze operates as an apparatus of power and for the self-regulating behaviour of beachgoing subjects. In this context, the more ‘appropriate’ (tanned) beach body has social power over other bodies who strive for similar status by regulating their behaviour to match that of the dominant bodies. The presence of the erotic gaze also has implications related to landscape, which I return to shortly.
Drawing again on Fiske (1989), the use of bathing costumes, sunscreens and finely-honed physical activities keeps the cultural dimension central to the individual’s (textile) beach use when encountering nature not-too-far-removed from the city99 (Green, 2003). Green (2003) debates that rituals of uniform, competency and usage time tame and control the beachgoer’s relationship with the elements, while allowing the actor to sport a badge of nature when returning to the locus of culture. Getting a suntan is nature brought back into culture. Being scantily dressed is permitted in the beach space partly because the natural form of the body befits the natural environment of the beach (Green, 2003). The position of people at the beach is also representative of their wanting to be closer to nature. As Figure 7.2 illustrates, beachgoers face the ocean when at the beach – and the ocean is closer to nature than the city.
Along with providing the beachgoer a gateway to nature, the beach landscape has an anthropological attraction that comes from an innate preference for certain environments.
There is a higher likelihood of risky behaviour occurring within the savanna-like beach landscape over the non-savanna-like city landscape. Measham (2006, p426) remarks,
“environments [are] meaning-laden places”. Adevi and Grahn (2012, p28) explain that,
98 The gaze is the uncanny sense and anxious state that arises with the awareness that one is being viewed. According to Lacan, the gaze of another person determines the subjectivity of the human being (Lee, 1990). 99 As stated earlier, the beach space represents nature and city. City refers to culture as the opposite of nature, in other words suburbia, the workplace, town, the nature-free environment, as posited by Fiske (1989). 318
“People’s preferences for open vistas and prospects are related to an innate reflex to
want to have a view that allows one to monitor and control the area close to the home:
the place chosen for settlement”.
Figure 7.3 Image of an Australian beachscape (top) (Yeagarup beach in Western Australia, notably absent of urbanisation) and a savanna (bottom) (displaying features akin to the grassy dunes and open vista of many Australian beachscapes). (Sources: http://elaine-teague.artistwebsites.com; http://www.fantom-xp.com/wp_42__Savanna.html)
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Williams and Cary (2002) outline how numerous studies have demonstrated human preference for modified savanna environments with a ‘neat’ appearance. These environments are similar in appearance to an Australian beachscape (Figure 7.3). An important extension to this in the context of this thesis is the (relatively) bare backdrop to many popular urban
Australian beaches (Chapter 2, Section 2.2), such as the one displayed in Figure 7.3.
Satisfying this innate preference for a savanna-like environment evokes within the beachgoer a reminder of the Jungian archetype of authentic humanity – the ego’s ideal self (Wilmsen,
2002). Koblenzer (1998 p423) explains “the closer that person approximates to this ideal in reality, the more positive will be [psychic health]”. This is affected in the beachscape through a lessening of the (super)ego’s influence over decision-making and behaviour, rendering the beachgoer more at ease to satisfy the primal (animal) drives associated with the pleasure principle and the id100.
Winston (2011, p21) remarks that environments have a powerful effect on the way our instincts are expressed, “those instincts which are specifically human are those that we honed during our time on the savannah”. Explaining the influence of an environment that reminds the individual of their anthropological origins, Webb (2003) writes of the beach as a place that points out “a flaw in the notion that humans are outside or beyond the natural world, closer to the transcendent, more valuable and more highly evolved than animals”.
To understand the psychic regression that occurs within the beach environment, the embodied subject can be imagined as civilised/uncivilised, or human/animal, as an extension to Fiske’s
(1989) description of the beach as a land/sea, culture/nature metaphor where people are civilised in culture and uncivilised in nature (Green, 2003; Webb, 2003). The subject is thus more inclined to satisfy the wants of the id being closer to resembling an animal during their
100 Prior to the onset of the reality principle and governed only by the pleasure principle, the mind is at relative harmony because the id can be gratified without disappointing the ego (Freud 1930). 320 time in the beachscape. In the process of satisfying the id, the self-care function of the ego is mitigated, and harm or danger are less likely to be anticipated101 (Khantzian and Mack, 1983), resulting in risk-taking being more likely to occur in the savanna-like beachscape.
In addition, a reversion to the uncivilised ‘animal’ that is representative of someone within the beachscape is exacerbated by the presence of the erotic gaze brought about by ‘normal’
(skimpy) beachgoing attire in Australia (Figure 7.2). The sexualised minimally dressed subject makes aware to themself (and others) the sexual presence of their exposed body (Green,
2003; Webb, 2003). Green (2003, p113) explains that “recognition of the human as also animal; and an acceptance of the primate’s need to play102, is an important element” of wearing little to no clothes at the beach. “The physical health of the animal, implied by a beachgoer’s tan, is experienced as more completely encompassing without the white/brown tan lines on the skin demarking a nature/culture divide” (Green, 2003, p113).
McDermott et al. (2003) discuss how tanning is prized in Australia’s beachgoing culture, and has the effect of attenuating the risks involved in sunlight exposure – as observed by Jang et al.
(2013). A tanned body also serves to display the physical prowess of the individual who sports a “healthy tan” in accordance with the “defining norm of cultural attractiveness” in Australia
(McDermott et al. 2003, p96). Koblenzer (1998, p422) states that, “a suntan implies physical and emotional good health, that it makes the individual more attractive, and that it indicates an active, daring, risk-taking lifestyle”. Australian society and popular culture celebrate the
‘benefits’ associated with a being a ‘bronzed Aussie’ over possessing fair-coloured skin (Heller,
2001). Discussing the psychological significance of the tanned body, Koblenzer (1998, p423) writes,
101 Freud referred to the ego’s self-care instincts as “instincts which serve the preservation of the individual”, as opposed to “those which serve the survival of the species” represented by the id (Khantzian and Mack, 1983, p210). 102 As Chapter 4 expressed, play is an inherent feature of the Australian beachscape. Play is representative of physical activity, which may also involve risk. 321
“The visibility and emotional significance of the skin make it an ideal medium for the
expression of ideas in symbolic form, and, we all have inherently, and throughout the
span of life, a profound need for empathic cutaneous tactile experience for the
maintenance of our physical and emotional well-being”.
The presence or absence of a tan transmits a message about desired status, rank, or lifestyle
(Koblenzer 1998). This is of particular significance in Australia in lieu of the beach’s prevalence in a contemporary national identity and socio-cultural orthodoxy.
At the beach, the body reflects society and society reflects the body (Pile, 1996). This
‘psychoanalysis of space’ representative of the body posited by Pile (1996, p184) implies that threats to body image are symbolised as threats to the body. Thus, as a matter of psychosocial preservation, the suntanned image is perpetuated and protected by those who are a part of – or hoping to be a part of – Australian beach cultures. The popularity of sun tanning in Australia despite the well-known adverse impacts of its practice also demonstrates the influence of culture on the beachgoer’s unconscious (Koblenzer, 1998). Winston (2011, p35) states, “our evolutionary past exerts the most powerful pressure. But the genetic element of human behaviour will always be refracted through the medium of culture”. What this entails is that whilst the gaining of a suntan has psychological benefits (as explained by Koblenzer, 1998) it is motivated by external culture as much as internally driven influences. In either case, the suntanned body remains a metaphor for a conforming Australian beachgoer.
Webb (2003, p88) presents another example of how the risky behaviour of suntanning is accepted at the beach, explaining that “the beach metaphorises the body (in its ‘wildness’, in its contingency); and metaphorises being (it is both and neither land and sea, as being is both and neither nature and society)”. Webb (2003, p89) also writes of being present in the beachscape as being afforded “the drive to engage in life ... and ironically, in a place without clear boundaries, to craft some boundaries within which we can live and make work”. The 322 blurred boundaries of culture and nature that inhabit the beach space permit the embodied subject to visit the beach/nature as a scantily dressed beachgoer/animal and then return to the city/culture as a suntanned product of nature.
This blurring of boundaries between the body and its environment is relatable to how the sublime is experienced in nature. To recap, Burke (1792, p79) explains:
“The passion caused by the great and sublime in nature, when those causes operate
most powerfully, is astonishment; and astonishment is that state of the soul, in which
all its motions are suspended, with some degree of horror. In this state the mind is so
entirely filled with its object, that it cannot entertain any other, nor by consequence
reason on that object which employs it.”
Webb (2003) similarly metaphorises life and death in nature drawing on what Drewe (1993) described as hydrous psyches. Webb (2003) explains how our own boundaries and limitations are brought to the fore within the mind of the embodied subject/beachgoer. This is something that is similarly experienced when witnessing the sublime in nature (Burke, 1792), and as
Chapter 4, Section 4.6 discussed, the sublime in nature is readily witnessed within many
Australian beachscapes. Within the context of risk-taking, the sublime’s ability to overwhelm has the effect of negating the witness’s ability to perceive risk in the sublime phenomenon itself. According to the affect heuristic, risks are judged depending on the positive or negative feelings associated with specific stimuli (Slovic, 2010). Subsequently, the positive emotions imbued by the sublime in nature have the effect of attenuating perceptions of risk in the beachscape by engendering false notions of safety103.
Elaborating on the appeal of the sublime in nature, Burke (1792, p48) also stated,
103This may also be strengthened by the popular fear of sharks (addressed in Section 5.3.1), which may contribute to the horror or fearful aspects of how the sublime is produced in the beachscape (Burke, 1792).
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“When danger or pain press too nearly, they are incapable of giving any delight, and
are simply terrible; but at certain distances, and with certain modifications, they may
be, and they are delightful”.
As with witnessing the sublime in nature, the pleasures achieved through risk-taking (a common undertaking in the beachscape) also contribute to the attraction of the beach space
(Diehm and Armatas, 2004). From the thesis interviews, many of the behaviours and activities participants commonly performed in the surf (such as wave-riding) were risky. “These activities are often considered more dangerous than conventional sports, and that element of risk adds to their appeal” (Booth, 2011, ix). As a demonstration, the following interview participants experienced pleasure in risk-taking:
“I take a lot of risks [at the beach that] I enjoy. I’m always jumping off the highest rock
I can find into the water. I find that sort of stuff enjoyable” (Interview 30, 15 August
2012).
“I like drinking [alcohol] then going for a swim” (Interview 23, 24 May 2012).
“If it’s big surf conditions I still go in [the water], it’s better” (Interview 2, 27 February
2012).
Lupton and Tulloch (2002a, p121) write, “in some of the accounts privileging the emotional intensity of risk-taking, there is a sense that the pleasures of risk stem from loss of control over the body”. This is similar to how the sublime overwhelms the embodied subject (beachgoer) who undergoes an out of body experience (Anderson, 2013a). Diehm and Aramats (2004) explain that people crave sensation and risk and that these needs can be satisfied quite readily by participating in some of the high-risk activities (such as drinking then swimming, jumping off rocks, or surfing a large (sublime) wave) on offer in the beachscape (Stranger, 1999). This was observed in the above quotes by participants who performed known risks (such as jumping off
324 rocks), or knowingly encountered hazards (such as large waves and possible submerged objects).
Of relevance to the attraction of risk in the Australian beachscape is the impact that a negative outcome of a risk, or a harmful encounter with a hazard, can have on the beachgoer’s attraction to the beach. Injury or harm resulting from the negative outcome of risky behaviour was a common occurrence among research participants. As Webb (2003, p80) explains, the beachgoer can end up “sunburnt, sandpapered, thirsty, headachy, grumpy if still elated, and with a body reminding [them] across every centimetre of its needs [for greater comfort]”. At first glance, it is understandable that such encounters would have a negative impact on future beach use, which was the case for some hazard victims (as reported by Drozdzewski et al.,
2012). However, in Chapter 5, Section 5.5 I showed that Australian born residents, established as having the most hazard experience thanks to the processes of socialisation and cultural memory, were not deterred by negative encounters with hazards. In addition, Drozdzewski et al. (2012) reported that only fifteen percent of their participants were deterred from future beach use because of a hazard encounter. Measham (2006), who explored the significance of landscape experiences, offers a possible explanation for this. Measham (2006, 432) explains that “following the initial trauma [of a hazard experience], people have a need to understand why this happened, why it happened here, and why it happened to them”. This may have instilled in participants an attraction to the beach consequent to learning more about its hazards and its risks – a reasonable assertion considering the physical (and psychical) abuse some participants had undergone at the beach due to hazard encounters, for instance:
“I’ve had a couple of near drowning experiences ... I still surf all the time” (Interview
16, 16 May 2012).
“I’ve been injured in the surf lots of time ... I enjoy the waves, I enjoy the [beach]
environment, I enjoy all the things that surround it” (Interview 30, 15 August 2012). 325
7.4 Chapter conclusion
This chapter has presented evidence outlining how risky behaviour in the Australian beach landscape is reproduced by the cultures of risk-taking surrounding use of the Australian beach space. The tendency for beachgoers to engage in risky behaviours at the beach is infectious by definition of interactive risk (Adams, 1995) and the effect of group norms (White et al., 2008).
This results in beachgoing in Australia being infused with the reproduction of a risk-taking norm. This norm applies to most people who use the beach in Australia, regardless of demographic or intrapersonal variables, regardless of previous experience, hazard awareness or hazard knowledge, and regardless of location around Australia.
Australian born beachgoers as a group are significant re-producers of the risk-taking culture in
Australian beach use. This results from their experience and knowledge of the Australian beachscape and the example their beach behaviours set for others, specifically for less experienced or less knowledgeable beachgoers – such as tourists. Overseas residents (tourists) are drawn to risky behaviour at the beach in the same way they are drawn to the beach itself – it is what people do in Australia. Comments by research participants about why they go to the beach (from Chapter 4) reflected what Huntsman (2001, p11) describes as “a combination of favourable climate, geography, accessibility, and – eventually – history and culture [that] have combined to enhance the ability and the inclination of Australians [and non-Australians] to respond to the lure of the beach”.
The often high-risk activities associated with beach use in Australia positioned many research participants as (high) risk-takers, even when they considered themselves risk averse. A significant component of beachgoing in Australia is voluntary risk-taking, with participants often displaying characteristics akin to what is termed edgework (Lyng, 1990, 2005; Olstead,
2010). The edgework-like behaviours of participants were often in contrast to their beliefs about safe beach and safe surf practice being paramount to beach use in Australia. 326
Accompanying the culture of risk-taking at the beach in Australia is the attenuation of risk in the beach space. The influence of the natural landscape of the beach, participant attachment to certain beaches and their representations of home projected onto those beaches combined with the interactive risk phenomenon, had the effect of attenuating risk perceptions in the
Australian beach space.
Why research participants made risks in the form of incongruous decision-making was also explored in this chapter. This was done by exploring the psychosocial and cultural drivers of risk that suffuse the beach landscape. There are cultural forces that operate in the beachscape intimating an attractive body (through sun tanning and physical activity) and social conformity
(participating in the Australian norm of risky beach behaviour) that contribute to the attraction of risk-taking at the beach (through activities such as sunbaking and chain surfing). In addition to this, the savanna-like landscape of the beach embodies the beachgoer’s primal (animal) instincts, instincts that can ignore the ego’s attempts to assess risks. The entrancing natural sublime of the beachscape was also found to attenuate risk in the sublime (often-hazardous) beachscape, whilst simultaneously enticing participants to encounter it.
The act of risk-taking itself is attractive at the beach because the beachscape offers an environment in which the pleasures associated with the performance of edgework are socially acceptable, and somewhat expected. The combination of a culture of risk-taking with an environment that entices and promotes the performing of risky behaviours make risk-taking an unavoidable facet of Australian beachgoing that was reflected in the commonness of risk- taking among research participants.
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8 Conclusions
This thesis has presented an investigation of the presence and influence of risk in Australian beach use. I have sought to bring the physicality of landscape, as context, to a more experimental approach to the problem of risk-taking by humans in the beachscape.
Specifically, the concern of this thesis has been to explore what makes the Australian beachscape such a hazardous setting, and why people engage with risk in this space. An
Australian beachgoing ethnography was produced through the use of surveys and interviews to shed light on the decision-making process behind risk-taking at the beach. It captured the attitudes, beliefs and behaviours that reproduce a culture of risk engagement. In my investigation of how the decision to take a risk is evoked in the beachgoer, I utilised psychoanalytic geographies to analyse the unconscious motivators that drive conscious action in the embodied subject. To do this, I found that psychology offered useful tools and explanations about landscape-specific behaviour as well as a practical way of generating data on risk-taking. I used psychometric personality assessments and brought this particular method in touch with the more usual methods of surveying and interviewing in human geography to encompass a more complete understanding of beach behaviour in Australia.
The results of this research indicate that risk-taking is an inherent feature of beachgoing in
Australia. The behaviour of beachgoers observed in this research demonstrates the presence of a risk-taking norm in Australian beach use. These behaviours are produced and reproduced through a variety of social, cultural and psychodynamic influences that result in the classification of beaches as risky spaces. The presence of persistent danger from beachscape- based hazards largely contributes to the at-risk status that is attributable to most (if not all) beachgoers albeit to varying degrees. This status also varies depending on the level of hazard in a place, and timing of the visit. For instance, a sunbather/baker is most likely to be become sunburnt on a clear day between the daylight hours of ten am and two pm (Diffey, 2002), and
328 a swimmer is more vulnerable swimming at an unpatrolled beach during a storm event than swimming at a patrolled beach on a day when the surf is calm (McKay et al., 2014).
Previous hazard and risk-based studies of the Australian beachscape have tended to focus on a specific hazard or a specific beachgoer demographic. One of the aims of this thesis has been to incorporate the assessment of multiple hazards and beachgoing groups to make sense of the risk-taking norm present in Australian beach use. By focusing on risk-taking as an observable beachscape behaviour with unique underpinnings specific to an Australian beach setting, this thesis has moved beyond conventional studies of risk-safety management in Australian beach use to the study of a culture of risk that explains why beach users are consistently at-risk.
Furthermore, this thesis has questioned understandings of why people go to the beach in
Australia that tend to be confined to personal observation and assumed knowledge. The research for this thesis has demonstrated that people use the beach in Australia for reasons that are connected to decision-making processes about taking risks at the beach. This is exemplified by the high level of sunlight and surf exposure regardless of knowledge about the risks involved. This is because, as well as being an often-hazardous risk-filled environment, beachgoing in Australia is embedded within the national psyche and tapped into by international visitors. In other words, engagement with risk is simply part of the beachgoing experience in Australia. It is often present, but not always consciously acknowledged.
In this chapter, I outline the results presented throughout this thesis and summarise the main elements of my argument, as supported by the results. Following this, I present the implications of my research findings and provide directions for possible future research and persistent challenges in this research area.
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8.1 Summary of thesis results
At the beginning of this thesis, I posited that a better understanding of the risk-taking behaviour of beachgoers requires consideration of a multi-faceted framework of the influences and motivations that contribute to how individual decisions are made at the beach
(Chapter 1, Section 1.6 and Chapter 3, Section 3.5). A set of research questions to direct the thesis were established to formally investigate the risk-taking behaviour of beachgoers in
Australia and address the lack of data regarding the influences and motivations for beachscape risk-taking. I adapted a conceptual framework to illustrate the various influences and drives acting upon risky behaviour (Figure 1.5), whilst demonstrating that the cause of a risky action performed at the beach cannot be reduced to a single quantifiable factor. I also outlined how the decision-making process that precedes risk-taking can be investigated at multiple levels of influence (Table 3.2).
The findings of this research, which corroborate and extend other research on beachscape hazards (such as Shaw and Leggat, 2003), risk-taking (Morgan et al., 2009a, 2009b) and behaviours (Ballantyne et al., 2005), indicated that some beachgoers possess a poor understanding of beach-based hazards, are inexperienced in Australian surf and beach related matters, hold unsafe beliefs and attitudes about beachgoing, and practice at-risk behaviours.
Moreover, numerous social, cultural and psychological influences promote risk-taking in the
Australian beach space. Any one of these characteristics is capable of amplifying risk of harm during beach use. Taken collectively, they offer a general explanation as to why beachgoing in
Australia is a risky undertaking.
A common perception that existed among the beachgoer research participants for this thesis was that the Australian beach is a dangerous place. Despite this sentiment, going to the beach is one of the most popular outdoor recreational activities in Australia (Chapter 1). In Chapters
2 and 4, I discussed how a contemporary national imaginary that focuses on the beach, with 330 the physical geography of Australia, its dry inland and warm climate as well as its encompassing coastline, contribute to the appeal of the beach space. The majority of beachgoers who participated in this research spoke of the appeal of nature and sociability as inherent in an Australian beach environment. Participants also spoke of a beachgoing way of life in Australia, which represents why other people use the beach. In comparison, the majority of participants cited their own reasons for going to the beach to be predicated on the pursuit of relaxation. Chapter 4 reported that knowing that the beach was a dangerous place had little bearing on individual beach use. In other words, in Australia, the appeal of beachgoing tends to outweigh most safety concerns. However, Chapter 5 outlined that the presence of beachscape-based hazards influenced the specifics of beach use for some participants. For example, some beachgoers were motivated to avoid sunlight exposure by visiting the beach at an appropriate time of day, or only swim at a beach known to be patrolled by lifeguards, or not go in the surf if the red and yellow safety flags were not present. In circumstances where beach use has been modified due to an encounter with (a) hazard(s), this usually occurred because of previous experience with a particular hazard, associated with a negative outcome.
This was rarely the case for more experienced beachgoers – those with extensive beach experience originating in childhood. These participants tended to be undeterred by ongoing encounters with dangerous hazards. The most hazard-experienced beachgoers’ unwillingness to avoid potentially life-threatening hazards demonstrated the significant lure of the Australian beach space. It also suggested that the presence of risk and the potential for harm are accepted characteristics of the beachgoing experience in Australia.
Before concluding that all beachgoers accept risk-taking as an essential aspect of beachgoing in
Australia, I investigated perceptions of safety and risk amongst beach users to capture beliefs about beach safeness. It became apparent in the data that some beachgoers were oblivious to their risk-taking behaviours that were at times placing them in serious danger. Chapter 6
331 provided instances where a false perception of safety would place a beachgoer at-risk, such as underestimating the strength of a rip current or the short time it takes to suffer burns due to sunlight exposure at certain times of day. The research participants least aware of their risk- taking behaviours were those with the least (Australian) beach experience. A correlation between false safety perception and experience was highlighted by a contrast in the hazard perception of participants from the three residency groups. Figure 8.1 provides a visual representation of how experience influences the perception of danger among residency groups (represented below as an aggregated hazard/danger rating, adapted from Chapter 5,
Table 5.8).
70%
68%
66%
64%
62% Danger rating Danger 60%
58%
56% Overseas resident (least Australian resident Australian born experience) born overseas resident (most experience)
Figure 8.1 Beachscape dangers rating, grouped by residency (illustrating the influence of experience on hazard/safety perception).
Regardless of differences in hazard perception, there was a false sense of safety reported in all residency groups. These were derived from a lack of hazard awareness (overseas residents), a lack of hazard experience (Australian residents born overseas) and overconfidence (Australian born residents). This meant that all participants were at-risk at the beach to varying degrees, and for varying reasons. This included participants considered knowledgeable, experienced
332 and careful individuals who take very little risk. Risk may be minimised at the beach, though it is unlikely for it to be avoided completely.
With reference to the data presented in Chapter 5, nearly all beachgoers are aware of some risk in the beach space through recognition of the danger of beachscape hazards. Hazards such as sharks, sunlight exposure and rip currents were considered by research participants to be particularly prominent in their risk calculations and in their opinion of beach dangerousness.
Despite this knowledge, and an often self-confessed aversion to risk-taking, participants often made risky decisions and participated in risky behaviour at the beach. Chapter 7 detailed how risk-taking occurred in an Australian beach setting because of overwhelming forces that encourage risky behaviour, regardless of risk aversion, and regardless of a participant’s safe intentions. Some of these forces relate to the peer influences of beachgoing behaviour in
Australia, whilst others are the result of a number of cultural and psychosocial innate reflexes.
These reflexes are partly explained by social phenomenon, cultural imperatives, the psychological influences of landscape on behaviour, and certain tenets of psychoanalytic theory, as Thomas (2007, p541) explains:
“Psychoanalytic theory presents the social subject as conflicted, often unaware of its
motives, provoked in the present by past relationships and complexes, and motivated
by an ongoing battle between social pressures and often unknowable psychic drives”.
In other words, many participants innately chose to engage in risky behaviour, on purpose or inadvertently/unconsciously, in the Australian beachscape for a range of reasons. I observed that unintentional risky behaviour might result from seemingly hazard-free circumstances, or ill-informed decision-making. Examples included excessive sunlight exposure resulting from the inaccurate estimate of time spent exposed; wading in shallow water at an unpatrolled beach; or drifting outside the flagged safe swimming area and into a seaward current. These situations were often the result of unwanted circumstances – the beachgoer did not intend to 333 stay in the sun for as long as they did; the wader thought it safe to stay in shallow water regardless of the beach being unpatrolled; the swimmer had intended to stay between the flags despite slowly drifting away from the flagged zone. The forces and influences encouraging risky behaviour at the beach place the embodied subject in an at-risk position the moment they enter the beach space.
In the following section, I discuss how the research undertaken in this thesis may have broader implications for scholarship, and in particular the field of human geography. This is followed by a discussion of the wider implications of the research findings as they relate to the safe management of beachgoers. In addition, the challenges and limitations faced in the production of this thesis are presented, followed by an outline of areas where further research may be valid.
8.2 Rethinking behaviour in geography
This thesis has explored the presence and influence of risk in Australian beach use by examining beachgoer beliefs and behaviours through the use of surveys and interviews, in which previous encounters with hazards and risky situations were recounted. The research incorporated a multi-faceted investigation of beach use in Australia using methods and techniques from several geographic schools, specifically cultural, behavioural and psychoanalytic. Additionally, I used analytical methods drawn from psychology and psychodynamics, which enabled me a means to address the influence of intrapersonal variables on beachgoer decision-making involving risk.
At the core of this thesis was the problem of how to decipher behaviour. As discussed in
Chapter 3, a similar rationale was employed by the sub-discipline of the now largely defunct behavioural geography. One of the main criticisms of behavioural geography was that it
334 tended to assume simplistic links between the mind and behaviour, which was found to be overly positivist (Argent and Walmsley, 2009; Gold, 2009). My approach to the study of behaviour in this thesis was to incorporate a more complex model of decision-making. This was complemented by other forms of geographical and psychological investigation to explain sociospatial phenomena whilst recognising the subject’s social, cultural and psychic situation.
In other words, I have revisited an aspect of behavioural geography and incorporated it with modern human geographic understandings of space, body and mind.
An issue surrounding the research of behaviour in human geography involves how to contextualise it and demonstrate the structures and spatial organisation of society within which it occurs (Argent and Walmsley, 2009). In the Australian beach context, the socially constructed meanings of space and place are contingent on enjoyment through a risk-taking norm. In other words, risky behaviour is an important social structure in the context of the
Australian beach space. The socio-cultural production of risk-taking behaviour in this space demonstrates the construction of a behavioural norm that is conflated and reproduced by psychological drivers of risky behaviour. This reproduction of risk-taking situates the beach space as a nomological network of risky behaviour.
Identifying psychological drivers – such as an innate attraction to certain landscapes and the various ways in which the psyche is appeased through risk-taking – as a construct in the defining of a risk-taking norm, provided a link between socio-culturally produced behaviour in the beachscape, and intrapersonal proclivities towards risky behaviour (i.e. psychometric risk- taking tendencies) in a defined spatial context. The results of this thesis signify the value of intrapersonal analysis in a human geographical study of spatial behaviour.
As outlined in Chapter 6, social surveying techniques were deployed in conjunction with a specifically designed psychological test to capture personal tendencies regarding risk-taking. In the search for a suitable test, I drew on the research of previously completed work relevant to 335 a spatial study of a risk-taking culture. This exemplified the need for a better understanding of the risk-taking behaviour of beachgoers (Chapters 1 and 2). Within the field of personality psychology, I found a suitable means of assessing the intrapersonal factors that contribute to individual behaviour. The intrapersonal factors of risk-taking represented one of the four levels of the conceptual framework in Chapter 1 (Figure 1.5), and the third level in the decision- making process in Chapter 3 (Table 3.2). Consideration of the intrapersonal context in risk- taking at the beach was considered critical in determining the motivations behind beachgoer risk-taking, and how effective personality testing can be in human geographical research. For the latter, the use of psychometric personality testing as it was reported in Chapter 6 bolstered the findings of this research. This demonstrated that personality was not a determining factor in the production of a culture of risk in Australian beachgoing– regardless of its influence on individual behaviour. My conclusion is therefore that risk-taking at the beach manifests from a complex of Australia’s beachgoing history and from the various influential tenets of the
Australian beach space itself, as explored in Chapter 7. The use of personality psychology in this thesis was a significant contributor to the overall findings of this research, as reported in
Chapter 6. It can therefore be concluded that personality testing is a useful addition to a human geography thesis that is concerned with human behaviour within a specific context. In other words, this method has been useful for the purposes of strengthening an investigation of the forces that act on individual decision-making in a distinct spatiality such as the Australian beachscape.
In the following section, I explore the implications of my research findings on beachgoer safety. While not the main focus of this thesis, beach safety implications are an inevitable consideration of my research results. Moreover, it would be remiss to elide a discussion on the potential for safer beach management, especially considering my background as a lifesaver and frequent beachgoer/risk-taker.
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8.3 Implications of research on risk-taking behaviours for beach safety management
This section highlights the significance of beachgoer safety and management in the context of the encompassing influence of risk in Australian beachgoing. In Australia, the beach space is seductive to participation in its risk-filled attractions. People taking risks can be a problem, which is evidenced in the extensive education and monitoring services employed to protect beachgoers, and to protect Australia’s beachgoing image inter-nationally. The results of this thesis reaffirm the importance of these services by highlighting the prevalence of risky behaviours at the beach, and pointing to the need for a continued effort in the pursuit of effective beach safety management.
As this thesis has illustrated, risk is a firmly entrenched characteristic of beachgoing in
Australia so the task of eliminating risk from beach use is likely to be a fruitless endeavour.
Rather, a more practical approach is the reduction of risky behaviours that involve insufficient awareness or knowledge of potential consequences. This is the aim of beach safety management, which focuses on beachgoer safety by addressing specific hazard encounters, mostly in the surf.
By highlighting the levels of awareness and knowledge of beachscape hazards amongst specific groups, this research has helped identify potential targets for beach safety messages
(discussed below). Beachgoer perceptions of safety explored in Chapter 6 also helped to identify the susceptibility of certain beachgoer groups to hazard encounters. For example, some Australian born beachgoers dislike being told where to swim because they feel confident in their own safety decisions. Such confidence resulted in Australian born research participants not swimming in designated areas, such as between safety flags, which inevitably results in encounters with the rip current hazard.
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The results of Chapter 4, which identified why people go to the beach and what they do there, are also significant to the safe management of beachgoers. Such details tend to be assumed knowledge and usually informed by the author’s own beachgoing experience (for example
Booth, 2001; Huntsman, 2001; Hosking et al., 2009). This is not to say that the observations of authors are incorrect, rather, this thesis offers empirical evidence through the use of survey and interview research methods. I gathered firsthand accounts from beachgoers about their perceptions of their own beach use patterns and motivations. For instance, finding that overseas residents were more likely to go to the beach to sunbake suggests that this group should be the target of anti-sun-baking/bathing campaigns (Chapter 4, Section 4.2.2). Another inference from beach use patterns with implications for beachgoer safety identified that males are more likely to take risks in the surf than females, which corroborates with previous research (Morgan et al., 2009a). However, as McDermott et al. (2003) identified, another at- risk category was young females (18-20) who were more likely to sunbathe/bake than males of the same age, which has implications for those safety messages which often focus on male subjects (Surf Life Saving Australia, 2013a). Another simple identifier of potential risk frequency is that Australian born beachgoers go to the beach to swim more often than overseas residents. This observation might suggest that Australian born beachgoers are more at-risk in the surf than overseas residents if no other factors are to be taken into consideration.
In reality, Australian born beachgoers have a lower surf-drowning rate than those born overseas because of higher levels of experience in the surf (Morgan, 2006). This illustrates the importance of recognising multiple factors when addressing risky (beachgoer) behaviour.
Knowledge gained through beachscape and hazard experience was therefore a consideration when determining beachgoer risk in this thesis. Beachgoer experience was determined through participant descriptions of personal experience and beach usage frequency (which was often the case during in-depth interviews), or calculated based on beach usage details
338 supplied by participants, which included details such as place of birth and place of residence.
Specific demographic details added relevance to predicting a participant’s at-risk status. For example, a research participant who was permanently residing near the coast their whole lives, and goes to the beach three to six times a week, was calculated to have a high level of beach experience, and hence, beachscape and hazard knowledge. However, as demonstrated throughout this thesis, experience and knowledge do not always correlate with safe behaviour.
For example, participants under forty years of age selected the category ‘Someone wading in a current’ as the scenario presenting the most risk, significantly more times than beachgoers over forty. This suggests that beachgoers over forty should be targeted for rip current safety campaigns, regardless of being older, and (likely to be) more experienced with rips104.
Another significant observation from this thesis was the correlation between the sun safety knowledge of Australian residents and their behaviour in relation to that knowledge. With all their experience and knowledge of skin cancer and sun safety, Australian born residents were the residency group most likely to act in opposition to their own awareness of this hazard.
Whilst the behaviours of Australian born beachgoers illustrates the amplified tendencies for risk-taking at the beach (a core theme in this thesis), it is likely that these beachgoers are inadequately motivated to act on the side of sun safety. This highlights the need to target
Australian born residents for sun safety campaigns. The narrative of this thesis might suggest futility in efforts to prevent someone taking risks in the beachscape but, as sun safety campaigns have shown through their success at encouraging sun safety amongst Australians in the past, this is not always the case. For many, the message has worked, while others have different priorities (Chapter 2, Section 2.4.2). Moreover, the extent to which this success is related to safer beach use (i.e. reducing time spent exposed to sunlight when at the beach) is
104 This also highlights the evolving understanding of how rip currents operate, and signifies that theories regarding the correct way to promote rip current safety are contentious (as explained in Chapter 2). 339 questionable. In a study that predicted the sun safety behaviour of people in a high-risk area,
White et al. (2008) report that the more sun safety is accepted within a group, the stronger the intentions that individual group members will have to sun protect. In the case of the Australian beachscape, sun protection may not be the supported norm. In Chapter 7 I discussed the sun- related behaviour of Australian beachgoers with regard to the attire and activities of beach users – minimal clothing, sun tanning, swimming, surfing, and other activities where skin is exposed to sunlight. The consequent norm, that sunlight exposure and its affects (displaying of the body and tanning) are favoured over sun protection, has evolved and been constantly reinforced by notions of an ideal Australian beach body (Booth, 2001; McDermott et al., 2003).
Campaigns that raise awareness of sun protection are critically important in the beachscape where knowledge of risk is high yet belief of resultant (self) harm is low. Initiatives such as Sun
Sound105 (a short jingle designed to remind people to be sun safe), Sunscreen Bands106 (wrist bands that detect sunlight and alter their colour to remind the wearer to apply sunscreen), and the various sunscreen re-applying reminder apps for mobile phones, are steps towards shifting the norm of sunlight exposure at the Australian beach. The effectiveness of these recent campaigns is yet to be realised.
This thesis has illustrated that Australian born beachgoers are influential to the norm of sunlight exposure and other forms of risk-taking on the Australian beach (Chapter 7). This highlights the importance of targeting this beachgoing group. With regard to water safety, the beachgoing behaviour of Australian born beachgoers is also an influential source of risk – as with sun exposure. This is particularly the case where beachgoing newcomers emulate the local example of beach use. For this reason, surf safety awareness campaigns can benefit from targeting experienced beach users as well as inexperienced users (Drozdzewski et al., 2012).
105 http://sunsound.com.au (site accessed 27/11/13). 106 www.sunscreenbands.com (site accessed 27/11/13). 340
The next section outlines some of the persistent challenges in beach safety research and the study of beachgoer behaviour in Australia. I also identify aspects of this thesis that point to future research endeavours.
8.4 Persistent challenges, limitations and future research
The results of this thesis have demonstrated that the construction of social and cultural norms regarding risk-taking at the beach in Australia is complex and multifaceted. As Section 8.2 illustrated, much of this research has implications for the well-being of the beachgoing public.
While provision of the social, cultural and psychological forces that permeate risk-taking at the beach is an important step towards a more effective management of beachgoer safety, it is not the overall solution for the well-being of beach users. This section poses some ongoing theoretical and practical challenges for future beach safety research as well as some of the limitations of the current research. Given that certain restrictions apply to an investigation involving a nationwide/global area of study, there were inevitably areas where improvements can be made. In this section, I will also address some of the limitations and challenges of the thesis process, and propose potential future research directions in an effort to improve and expand upon the work detailed in this thesis.
First, predicting beachgoer behaviour, or indeed any behaviour, is wrought with assumption and uncertainty (Gold, 2009). Whilst this thesis sought to address the poorly understood psychological aspects of beach use patterns and individual perception, beachgoer intentions can never be fully understood, and efforts to do so will only fall short. The best-case scenario is to construct an evidence-based model of predicted beachgoer behaviour and to use it as a guide to inform beachgoing tendencies, as opposed to beachgoing absolutes.
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Further examination of risk-taking at the beach, through observational and investigative studies, is important so that the findings of this research may be corroborated or refuted – in part or in total. Given the extent to which use of the Australian beachscape can be an emotionally significant experience of a specific beach (space), further studies of different beachgoers at different beaches are warranted. Moreover, patterns of beach use, including risk-taking, may be subject to undetermined spatial or temporal variations or subject to other yet unidentified influential forces. Whereas this thesis examined the existence of a culture of risk in Australian beachgoing, future research could result in the elucidation of previously unknown risk-taking trends at the beach.
A potential drawback of participants self-reporting beachgoing behaviour is that assertions and conclusions are interpreted from a reliance on answers that might be accidentally or intentionally falsified (Dumont, 2010). Whilst subjectivity and perception are important aspects of interpretative geography that are taken into consideration when analysing results, some level of uncertainty/inaccuracy may be incurred when solely relying on self-reported behaviours (Dumont, 2010). Further evidence via visual observation of beach use would help capture beachgoer dispositions to beachscape risk-taking. In addition, given the relatively high levels of hazard awareness and knowledge of safe practice reported in this thesis and other studies (such as Drozdzewski et al., 2012), visual evidence of risk-taking that contradicts self- reported awareness of safe practice would assist in better illustrating the effects of a culture of risk-taking. Moreover, further research into the (possibly) contradictive behaviour of beachgoers concerning their self-reported awareness of beach safety may assist in understanding why beachgoers perform actions they know to be risky and/or unwise.
Throughout this thesis, participants were observed participating in the culture of risk in various capacities. To this end, I have identified specific sub-groups of beachgoers as deficient in certain areas of beach safety. Areas of deficiency included lack of awareness, knowledge or
342 experience, and unsafe attitudes or beliefs about beachgoing. For example, many Australian residents possessed unsafe attitudes to beachgoing, regardless of possessing what seemed to be sufficient levels of hazard awareness, knowledge and experience. Chapter 7 demonstrated that this amounted to a safety issue for non-Australian residents looking to emulate local behaviour. The influence of Australian beachgoers on the behaviours of other beachgoers requires closer investigation to confirm this trend. This could be investigated by observing tourist behaviour prior to entering the Australian beachscape (i.e. how they behave at the beach in their own country). Behaviour in a non-Australian beachscape could then be compared to behaviour in the Australian beach context. This was touched upon in the research for this thesis, yet appropriate data was insufficient to allow any comprehensive conclusions to be drawn.
Another area open to further investigation is the risk-taking behaviour of beachgoers contrasted between different beachscapes. This thesis has presented a NSW based study whose conclusions primarily apply to that state, but with relevance to beachgoing behaviour elsewhere throughout Australia. Certain beaches or beach environments may evoke different behavioural, decision-making or risk-taking outcomes. For example, the risk-taking behaviour of someone on a deserted beach in a remote part of Australia may be subtly (or starkly) different from the behaviour of the same beachgoer surrounded by hundreds of people at the highly populated Bondi beach in Sydney. This also highlights the need for a more expansive list of research sites. Although this thesis presents argument for an encultured beachgoing norm in Australia that includes all beaches and beachgoers, some beachscapes in other states or territories of Australia might provide evidence of sub-cultural differences in beachgoer behaviour or beachgoing ideals. Similarly, beachscapes not sourced in this thesis may require investigation as to their specific risk-taking characteristics including any individually unique
343 influence on beachgoers. Possible sites for further investigation might include remote coastal towns in Western Australia or Hamilton Island off the North Queensland coast for example.
The multiple methods approach used in this thesis has expanded understandings of beachgoing tendencies, particularly through use of a psychometric test of personality traits in conjunction with an interpretative social survey/interview to analyse beachgoer behaviour.
The analysis of beachgoer behaviour constructed for this thesis revolves around two models – the decision-making process (Chapter 3, Table 3.2) and the conceptual framework of risky beachscape-based behaviour (Chapter 1, Figure 1.5). Both models outline the importance of personality in the analysis of behaviour. While it is hoped that a better understanding of why people take risks at the beach is achieved through this research, it is understood that many of the forces and influences that act upon a decision to behave riskily identified in these two models are somewhat intangible, highly variable and contextually situational. They are also interpretative in nature, as exemplified in the following section.
8.5 Observations of a beachscape risk-taker
As a conclusion to this thesis, I offer my own observations of beachgoing in Australia that are relevant to the context of what has been reported and discussed thus far. In the spirit of researching Australian beach cultures, in the vein of scholarly authors on matters of the beach, this section presents my own perspectives as an experienced beachgoer on the themes of this research. In short, I present a brief auto-ethnography (cf. Shaw, 2013) of my own experiences of risk-taking at the beach as a casual surfer/surfboat competitor/volunteer lifesaver/general beachgoer. I use my short story because it corroborates much of what the thesis has unearthed through the experiences of others, and to offer an explanation of how my own life experience has influenced my research, and vice versa.
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From my years spent on the beach and in the surf as an Australian born beachgoer, I can confidently state that risk-taking is as much a part of the Australian culture of beach use as any other factor. I have observed parents bringing their infant children to the beach to instil appreciation and provision of knowledge to negotiate the dangers of the beach. Of course, at the other end of the experience-spectrum (from infants) the sun-drenched, leathery-skinned professional lifeguards are also there. They keep watch over the dangerous behaviours of others.
From my experience as a beachscape risk-taker (surfing and rowing surfboats), risk-observer
(volunteer lifesaver) and general beachgoer – spanning the entirety of my life (as far back as memory allows) including most weekends and many sunny weekday afternoons – the
Australian beachscape is littered with examples of risk-taking. Yet despite the extensive measures of protection in place for beachgoers in Australia, such as professional lifeguards, the marketing of beach safety, and the encultured monitoring services provided by volunteers including the humanitarian aid of surfers to those in need of assistance in the water, the system is by no means perfect, as deaths in the surf alone attest. While lifeguards and lifesavers (and surfers) are vigilant in protecting people from the hazards of the surf, there is little to no protocol currently in place to protect beachgoers from the deadliest hazard at the beach – the sun. I suggest that perhaps monitoring of sunbathers/bakers by lifeguards and lifesavers is one measure that could be introduced. In my experience, it is not that difficult to recognise who has been exposed to the sun for a long time, or who is in need of protection from sunlight exposure. Holidaymakers in particular (such as the international tourist mentioned at the beginning of Chapter 7, Section 7.2.2) could benefit from a sunlight exposure monitoring service. Alternatively, designated lifeguards/lifesavers could approach beachgoers, offering sunscreen. At the moment sunscreen is available, but only at some beaches and only to those who approach and enquire about it themselves. It is unlikely the sunbathing/baking
345 behaviour of Australian beach users will change drastically. It seems to me that small changes, such as those suggested, might gradually lower the risk of sun-based harm.
Greater awareness is needed at unpatrolled beaches, especially among visiting tourists
(Morgan, 2006; Wilks, 2007, 2008; Sherker et al., 2008; McKay et al., 2014). This may involve compulsory in-flight safety messages or similar campaigns in place at airports or perhaps beachside hotels that display the hazards of the beach, more so than is currently offered. The
Australian Water Safety Council (2012) suggest introducing equipment that is more advanced, as well as advanced information technology and research such as a webcam monitoring system and the ABSAMP (the Australian Beach Safety and Management Program), which through PDA access, would be available to lifeguards at all times.
However, regardless of my own personal observations and suggestions regarding improvements to public protection services surrounding the beach, the risk-taking culture that exists in Australian beach use, and the multiple influences that encourage risk-taking, will result in performance of unsafe behaviours by the millions of beachgoers around the country.
This is not to say that beachgoers in Australia are beyond protection. In fact, they require more protection because of their risky inclinations. By identifying that almost all beachgoers are at- risk, I envision that the results reported in this thesis will support the continued and improved protection of beach users in Australia.
As far as my own risk-taking goes, I am a highly experienced surf swimmer and wave rider (on a board and in a boat) and yet, I have suffered countless injuries, and will continue to do so in the future. I am a part of the risk-taking culture of which this thesis has investigated. In particular, the sport of surfboat rowing, which I have competed in for more than twelve years, has considerable risks associated with its performance. Moreover, whilst more and more safety guidelines are attached to the sport, it remains one of the most visibly risky beachscape
346 activities107. There is a saying that refers to the type of person who competes in surfboat racing that follows the line of ‘How do you tell a boatie from a non boatie? Line them up and throw a brick at them – the one who doesn’t move is a boatie’. Why someone would participate in the kind of risks attributable to this saying is something I have grappled with, and ultimately endeavoured to answer within the narrative of this thesis for my own safety, as well as that of others. The same applies to all beachgoers who choose to spend their time relaxing or playing
(or both) in the Australian beachscape – a risk-filled, hazardous, but ultimately seductive leisure environment. My hope is to find a balance, a way to minimise the risks of the beachscape, for all who succumb to its allure.
107 There is a video available for viewing on YouTube that demonstrates the risks involved in surfboat rowing on Australian beaches. The URL is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RvOWnfxtaOo. 347
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Appendices
Appendices Page Appendix I ...... iii Ethics ...... iii Risk assessment ...... x
Appendix II ...... xiii Survey questionnaire ...... xiii In-depth interview: guide and topics ...... xx
Appendix III ...... xxii Application and statistical analysis of personality testing ...... xxii
Appendix IV ...... xxxi Psychoanalytic theory and practice ...... xxxi Psychoanalytic considerations in qualitative and interpretative geography ...... xxxv
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Appendix I
Ethics
The University of New South Wales Human Research Ethics Advisory Panel (HREAP) C - APPLICATION FORM
Please attach documentation where required. Please answer all questions.
1. Investigators: School/Unit/Centre: BEES, Geography
Investigator Title Family First Name Phone/Mobile email s Name First Todd x51268 [email protected] Investigator Mr Walton
If student, please indicate the Candidate Level: ^^______
3. Project Title: Risky behaviours of beachgoing in Australia
In answering the following questions, please be guided by both the notes appended to each question and the 2007 National Statement on Ethical Conduct in Human Research: http://www.nhmrc.gov.au/publications/synopses/e72syn.htm
4. Project Description: Please attach a description of the project (300 words max) on a separate page. This description should briefly summarise the aims and general hypotheses. However, for reaching a judgment about the ethics of the project, this description should focus on what will happen to the participants (i.e., a summary of the procedure). Think about what the participants will exposed to. Please attach a copy of questionnaires and/or examples of other stimulus materials, where feasible.
5. Potential for harm to participants and/or investigators: 5a. Is there any potential for harm, either physical, psychological, social, NO cultural or financial? 5b. Are there potential risks to researchers? NO
6. Recruitment of participants: 6a. Is there any possibility of coercion of participants to enrol in the NO study? 6b. Are participants in a dependent relationship with the Investigator NO (e.g., teacher-student)?
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6c.Will participants be offered an inducement to encourage their NO involvement? If you answered “ YES” to any of these questions, please describe fully how participants are to be recruited and how other issues are to be resolved. Please attach any recruitment advertisements and posters. (The credit offered to Psych 1 students is considered an inducement.) 6d. Will you be using Psychology 1 participants? NO If you answered “Yes,” please attach indicative answers to the following questions that students will ask you during a 5-10 min mandatory debriefing at the end of each session: (a) What kind of study is it, e.g., descriptive, correlational, experimental? (b) What are the independent variables? How are you operationalising them? (c) What are the dependent variable that were measured? How are you operationalising them? (d) What is one potential confounding variable and how have you attempted to control for it? (e) What is one potential ethical issue, and how has the experimenter attempted to resolve it? (f) How did the experimenter get from first year psychology to conducting this research [a few “high points” to give the student some idea of the career path to research?
6e. Will you be using participants who are not Psychology 1 students YES
If so, describe how those participants will be recruited for your project. Participants will be sought using the following techniques: 1. A survey of general beachgoers will be performed by constructing a research station near a beach or in a caravan park with signs to attract potential participants for an 8-10 min questionnaire. Questions will infer respondent knowledge of general beach safety and rip current safety as well as obtaining some general demographic information of the participant. 2. Respondents of the initial survey will be given the option (without obligation) to provide contact details so they can be later interviewed about their experiences with beachgoing in Australia. The interviews will be in-depth, lasting anywhere between 15-60 minutes, and at a location suitable to me and the respondent. Interviews may also be conducted over the phone as requested by the respondent. In this case, consent will be verbal and with information read over the phone. 7. Informed Consent and Debriefing See National Statement: Sections 1, 6, 14, 15, and 16 7a. Will you seek written informed consent from participants? Questionnaire respondents will self recruit by approaching the research stand. Those who agree to be interviewed will be asked to sign a consent form. 7b. Will you be providing a debriefing? NO Contact details of the chief investigator will be listed on the questionnaire for participants to call/email if they have further questions regarding the survey or interview content.
8. Privacy, Confidentiality, Anonymity: See National Statement: Section 17 8a. Is there a requirement for the researchers to identify, collect, use, or NO disclose information of a personal nature (either identifiable or potentially identifiable) about individuals without their consent? 8b. Is there a possibility of participants being inappropriately identified, NO or confidential data being divulged during or after the research has taken place? 8c. Please confirm that data will be stored for a minimum of 7 years in a secure location. Data will be housed in a locked filing cabinet for 7 years and names will not be attached to completed surveys or interview transcripts.
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9. Observation and Records: 9a. Is it necessary in your research to make recorded observations of participants (e.g., audiotapes, videotapes)? 9b. Is it necessary to use records or database information? NO If a participant volunteers for a follow up interview the interview will be recorded, transcribed and coded. Interviewees will remain anonymous throughout the study. The recordings will be housed in a secure and locked filing cabinet and separated from the list of interviewees.
10. Deception/Debriefing: Is it necessary during your research to deceive participants? NO See National Statement: Section 17. If you answered “YES”, please explain why and how this will be done. “Deception” refers to misleading the participants about what will be happening to them, by commission or omission. However, “deception” does not include instances in which you do not tell the participants your hypotheses to avoid demand characteristics.
11a. Is the research being funded by an agency outside the UNSW? NO 11b. Is there any conflict of interest (including financial gain) likely to NO result from this project? If you answered “ YES” to either of these questions, please provide details and attach documentation. Externally-funded projects that are minimal ethical impact can be approved by the HREAP, subject to ratification by the HREC
12. Organisations other than the University of New South Wales: Are there organisations other than UNSW or another collaborating NO university involved in this research? If you answered “YES”, please provide details. Please attach a letter of support for the research from the organisation. Provisional approval can be given pending receipt of a letter of support.
13. Declaration of Investigators I/we apply for approval to conduct the research. If approval is granted it will be undertaken in accordance with the protocol described in this application and other relevant guidelines, regulations and laws.
Investigator(s) Name (Block Letters) Signature Date First Investigator Todd Walton 23/11/10
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Approval No (1438)
THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES
PARTICIPANT INFORMATION STATEMENT
Risky behaviours of beachgoing in Australia
Participant Selection and Purpose of Study You are invited to participate in a study of public beach and surf safety knowledge. I hope to learn about the extent of people’s knowledge and understanding of beach safety practices and education campaigns. You were selected as a possible participant in this study because you are a beach user.
Description of Study and Risks If you decide to participate, I request that you complete the entire survey and answer all questions honestly.
Confidentiality and Disclosure of Information Any information that is obtained in connection with this study and that can be identified with you will remain confidential and will be disclosed only with your permission or except as required by law. If you give me your permission by signing this document, I plan to publish the results in scholarly Journals. In any publication, information will be provided in such a way that you cannot be identified.
Your consent Your decision whether or not to participate will not prejudice your future relations with The University of New South Wales. If you decide to participate, you are free to withdraw your consent and to discontinue participation at any time without prejudice. At the conclusion of the survey you may be asked to participate in an interview at a later date either face-to-face or over the telephone depending on your own preference. Your decision whether to be involved or not in a follow-up study will in no way be held in bias against you.
Inquiries
If you have any questions or concerns following your participation forward them to: Todd Walton, 9385 1268, [email protected], I will be happy to address them.
Complaints may be directed to the Ethics Secretariat, The University of New South Wales, SYDNEY 2052 AUSTRALIA (phone 9385 4234, fax 9385 6648, email [email protected]).
Please keep this information sheet and one copy of the Participant Consent Form. The investigator will keep the other signed copy. Both copies should be signed by you and the investigator.
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Approval No (1438)
THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES
PARTICIPANT INFORMATION STATEMENT
Risky behaviours of beachgoing in Australia
Participant Selection and Purpose of Study You are invited to participate in a study of public beach and surf safety knowledge. I hope to learn about the extent of people’s knowledge and understanding of beach safety practices and education campaigns. You were selected as a possible participant in this study because you are a beach user.
Description of Study and Risks If you decide to participate, I request that you complete the entire interview and answer all questions honestly.
Confidentiality and Disclosure of Information Any information that is obtained in connection with this study and that can be identified with you will remain confidential and will be disclosed only with your permission or except as required by law. If you give me your permission by signing this document, I plan to publish the results in scholarly Journals. In any publication, information will be provided in such a way that you cannot be identified.
Your consent Your decision whether or not to participate will not prejudice your future relations with The University of New South Wales. If you decide to participate, you are free to withdraw your consent and to discontinue participation at any time without prejudice. I also intend to record this interview for the sole purpose of transcribing it for analysis. Transcription will be performed by myself (Todd Walton) and securely stored and coded once completed.
Inquiries
If you have any questions or concerns following your participation forward them to: Todd Walton, 9385 1268, [email protected], I will be happy to address them.
Complaints may be directed to the Ethics Secretariat, The University of New South Wales, SYDNEY 2052 AUSTRALIA (phone 9385 4234, fax 9385 6648, email [email protected]).
Please keep this information sheet and one copy of the Participant Consent Form. The investigator will keep the other signed copy. Both copies should be signed by you and the investigator.
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THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES
Approval No (1438)
PARTICIPANT CONSENT FORM
Risky behaviours of beachgoing in Australia
You are making a decision whether or not to participate. Your signature indicates that, having read the information provided on the participant information sheet, you have decided to participate in an in-depth face-to-face interview.
…………………………………………………… .……………………………………………………. Signature of Research Participant Signature of Parent or Guardian (when relevant)
…………………………………………………… .……………………………………………………. (Please PRINT name) (Please PRINT name)
…………………………………………………… Date
…………………………………………………… Signature(s) of Investigator(s)
.……………………………………………………. Please PRINT Name
REVOCATION OF CONSENT
Risky behaviours of beachgoers in Australia
I hereby WITHDRAW my consent to participate in the research proposal described above and direct that any data collected from me be destroyed.
I understand that such withdrawal WILL NOT jeopardise any treatment or my relationship with The University of New South Wales.
…………………………………………………… .……………………………………………………. Signature Date
…………………………………………………… Please PRINT Name The section for Revocation of Consent should be forwarded to Todd Walton.
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4. Project description: Please attach a description of the project (300 words max) on a separate page. This description should briefly summarise the aims and general hypotheses. However, for reaching a judgment about the ethics of the project, this description should focus on what will happen to the participants (i.e., a summary of the procedure). Think about what the participants will exposed to. Please attach a copy of questionnaires and/or examples of other stimulus materials, where feasible.
Risky behaviours of beachgoing in Australia
This thesis investigates beachgoing in Australia with particular attention given to the risks associated with this as a popular leisure activity. One of the aims of this thesis is to improve understanding of the social and behavioural impacts of beach-based hazards and risks through research. This includes capturing the attitudes, beliefs and experiences of beachgoers in Australia to inform the research question of why people engage with hazards and take risks at the beach.
Obtaining data on risk-taking attitudes and perceptions will help create a better understanding of what is required in the context of beach safety management. It is envisioned that this will lead to a decrease in beach-related injuries and deaths from such things as drowning and skin cancer. Interviewing beachgoers as a complementary method to survey questionnaires and participant observation research will elicit information about respondent constructions, reflections and projections of their own lived experiences, offering important insight into how and why people engage with risky behaviours at the beach.
Participants will self-recruit for an initial survey questionnaire in accordance with the arms- length approach of the UNSW ethics doctrine. This will occur throughout summer (and autumn) until enough questionnaires have been completed. Participants will be provided with the option to self-recruit for a follow-up in-depth interview by supplying their name and contact details at the conclusion of the questionnaire. Interviews will occur at a location deemed suitable by the researcher and researched, or will occur over the phone.
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Risk assessment
OHS017 Risk assessment completed by: Todd Walton
Staff/student number: z3162179
OHS Risk assessment and control form
For additional information refer to the OHS Risk Assessment and Control Procedure, the OHS Risk Rating Procedure and the Hierarchy of Risk Controls. Faculty/Division: Science School/Unit: BEES
Document number Initial Issue date Current version Current Version Next review date WS101129 29.11.10 1.0 Issue date 29.11.10 29.11.15
Risk Assessment title:- Risky behaviours of beachgoing in Australia
Step 1:- Identify the Activity and the location of the activity
Description of activity:- Surveying and interviewing of general beach users for the purpose of a postgraduate thesis. This involves: -Recruiting beach-users for a 10min questionnaire on Sydney beaches during daytime hours in the summer months, and some warmer Autumn days, throughout the year. Recruiting may also occur in locations around Australia such as on the Gold Coast in Queensland, or at caravan parks and backpacker hostels on the coast. -In-depth interviewing of beachgoers either over the phone or in person. Recruitment will occur primarily between the hours of 10am-4pm with necessary breaks for water, food etc during this time. Activities involved include: -Travelling to sites by personal vehicle or public transport, conducting surveys, walking along beaches, coastal promenades and adjacent urban areas, interviewing over the phone, interviewing in person at yet undisclosed locations (either respondents home or choice of public area). Description of the location of the activity:- Beaches and adjacent coastal reserves and tourist parks/hostels around Australia. Step 2: Identify who may be at risk by the activity: A number of people may be at risk from any activity. This may affect the risk controls needed. These people may include fellow workers, visitors, contractors and the public. The location of the activity may affect the number of people at risk
Members of the public will not be affected by any data gathering related to this activity. This risk assessment only applies to the person conducting the surveys/interviews, i.e. Todd Walton.
Steps 3 to 7: Identify the hazards, risks, and rate the risks 1. An activity may be divided into tasks. For each task identify the hazards and associated risks (Including the potential for emergencies) 2. List existing risk controls and determine a risk rating using the UNSW Risk Rating Procedure. (Include controls for emergencies) 3. Additional risk controls may be required to achieve an acceptable level of risk (Use hierarchy for risk controls).Re-rate the risk if additional risk controls used.
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Risk rating with Risk existing controls * Additional Rating risk with Associated (Step 5) Hazards controls additional risks Existing risk Tasks required controls * (Step 3) controls (Step 4) (Step 6) (Step 7)
C L R C L R
Walking on Sharp Cut foot, Wear Minor Unlikely Low the beach objects in infection, sandals/shoes sand, twist ankle with adequate uneven ankle support ground and actively avoid any unidentifiable waste
Surveying in Sun Sunburn Sun cream, hat, Minor Unlikely Low daylight on clothing the beach
Being in the Exposure Heat carry water, Minor Unlikely Low sun all day to strong exhaustion, carry first aid sunlight dehydration kit, wear polarized sunglasses
Being in an Storm Lightning Don’t survey in Minor Unlikely Low open area strike, flying a storm debris
Getting to Crash, Injury, Use of properly Minor Rare Low and from sun dependent maintained field sites exposure, on nature of vehicle, licensed and poor incident driver with good interview weather record and do locales not drive for more than 90mins or in adverse weather or outside of daylight hours
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Step 8 : Implement additional controls Date all controls implemented : I(name): Todd Walton have implemented the controls identified in step 6 (signature)
Step 9 :List Legislation related to this document List legislation, standards and codes of practice relevant to this risk assessment
Step 10:- Authorisation Authorised by: Date: Signature:
Step 11:- Sign off All persons performing these tasks must have read and understood the risk assessment Risk assessment name and version number: WS101129 version 1.0 I have read and understand this risk assessment Name Signature Date Todd Walton 29/11/10
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Appendix II
Survey questionnaire
Have you ever gone to the beach and come home feeling less healthy than when you left? Has anything unexpected ever happened to you while going for a dip in the surf? Do you just like going to the beach and unwinding for a few moments?
sds.com.au
You are invited to participate in a study of public beach and surf knowledge and behaviours. We hope to learn about people’s experiences and understandings of the Australian beach and surf environment as well as gain insight into the various perceptions of beachgoing in Australia.
The University of New South Wales is undertaking this study with the aim of improving beach safety practices and beach safety policies.
Your participation can help save lives.
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School of Biological, Earth and Environmental Sciences Approval No. 1424
You were selected as a possible participant in this study because you are a beach user. To start with, you will be asked some basic questions for statistical purposes, followed by some questions that relate more specifically to you. Finally, there are a set of questions about your time at the beach. Any personal information you provide will not be used in any other way than to group you demographically.
The survey will take approximately 10 minutes to complete and is divided into 2 parts: Part A –Will ask questions about your general likes & dislikes; Part B – Questions about your beach usage. You must be over 18 to complete this survey.
Please respond to each question and try to go with your initial instinctual response.
Your participation in this survey will be kept strictly confidential.
PART A
First, we would like to know a little about you…
1. What is your country of birth? ______
2. What is your country of permanent residence? ______
3. If you live in Australia, please specify your residential postcode.______
4. Which age category do you belong to?
18 – 20 21 – 29 30 – 39
40 – 49 50 – 59 60 or older
5. What is your gender? Male Female
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We would like to ask some specific personality questions about you…
On the next couple of pages, you will find a series of statements about you.
Please read each statement and decide how much you agree or disagree with that statement and indicate your response using the following scale:
5 = strongly agree
4 = agree
3 = neutral (neither agree nor disagree)
2 = disagree
1 = strongly disagree
1. I would like to explore strange places.
2. I get restless when I spend too much time at home.
3. I like to do frightening things.
4. I like wild parties.
5. I would like to take off on a trip with no pre-planned routes or timetables.
6. I prefer friends who are excitingly unpredictable.
7. I would like to try bungee jumping.
8. I would love to have new and exciting experiences, even if they are illegal.
Now we would like to know a little about your attitude towards certain things…
Same as before, please rate each statement from 1 to 5 on how accurately the sentence depicts your personality.
1. I admire a really clever scam.
2. I enjoy having lots of people around to talk with.
3. I would feel afraid if I had to travel in bad weather conditions.
4. I love excitement
5. I rarely express my opinions in group meetings.
6. If I knew that I could never get caught, I would be willing to steal a million dollars.
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7. I would enjoy creating a work of art, such as a novel, a song or a painting.
8. I enjoy being reckless
9. I prefer jobs that involve active social interactions to those that involve working alone.
10. I think that paying attention to radical ideas is a waste of time.
11. I believe it is always better to be safe than sorry.
12. I make decisions based on the feeling of the moment rather than on careful thought.
13. When it comes to physical danger, I am very fearful.
14. I would never make a high-risk investment.
15. In social situations, I’m usually the one who makes the first move.
16. I would never accept a bribe, even if it were very large.
17. I am willing to try anything once.
18. People have often told me that I have a good imagination.
19. The first thing that I always do in a new place is to make friends.
20. I do crazy things.
21. I like people who have unconventional views.
22. I make a lot of mistakes because I don’t think before I act.
23. I would never go hang-gliding or bungee jumping.
24. I don’t think of myself as the artistic or creative type.
25. Even in an emergency I wouldn’t feel like panicking.
26. I avoid activities that are physically dangerous.
27. I find it boring to discuss philosophy.
28. I prefer to do whatever comes to mind, rather than stick to plan.
29. I stick to the rules.
30. When I’m in a group of people, I’m often the one who speaks on behalf of the group.
31. I’d be tempted to use counterfeit money, if I were sure I could get away with it.
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PART B
Awesome! These last set of questions are about your time at the beach…
1. How often do you go to the beach, during summer?
Every day 3 -6 times a week
1 -2 times a week 1 -2 times a month
Rarely Never
2. What reason best describes why you go to the beach? (Please tick one answer)
To relax For adventure / do something different
To swim To train / workout
To be with friends / hang out To sunbake
To surf Not sure, just do
3. How would you rate your pool swimming ability?
Unable to swim
Weak swimmer
Able to swim
Competent swimmer
Highly competent swimmer
4. How would you rate your beach/ocean swimming ability?
Unable to swim
Weak swimmer
Able to swim
Competent swimmer
Highly competent swimmer
5. Is there anything in particular that scares you about going to the beach and/or going in the surf?
______
______
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6. Where have you heard / seen safety information about the beach? (You may tick multiple boxes)
Nippers / Surf club TV
Radio School
Signage at the beach In-flight video on an airplane
Internet Parents
Nowhere Other______
7. How do you rate each of these beach hazards? On a scale from 1 to 5, with 5 being extremely dangerous and 1 being not of great concern.
Sharks Slippery surfaces
Rip currents Blue bottles / Jellyfish
Large waves Sunburn
Submerged objects Watercraft (boards, jet skis, boats etc)
Pollution Dumping shore waves
8. Who do you think is most at risk of injury or harm at the beach? (Please tick one answer)
Someone sunbaking
A person swimming beyond the waves in deep water
Someone wading in a current
Someone catching waves in shallow water
A person learning to surf
9. Do you check conditions, or for hazards, before going to the beach or going in the water?
Yes No (go to question 11)
10. Which hazards do you check for? (You may tick multiple boxes)
Board riders Marine life (stingers, sharks etc)
Motor craft (jet skis etc) Big surf / Shore dumping waves
Currents, including rips Whether or not the beach is patrolled
Pollution Sun / skin cancer
Other______
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11. Have you ever been rescued?
Yes No (go to question 14)
12. How were you rescued?
Lifeguard / Lifesaver Friend
Nearby surfer Nearby swimmer
Other______
13. Were you swimming between the flags?
Yes No Not sure
14. Do you feel safe at the beach?
Very unsafe Unsafe Moderate Safe Very safe
15. Do you feel safe in the surf?
Very unsafe Unsafe Moderate Safe Very safe
Thank you for your time and contribution to this study.
......
IF YOU HAVE MORE TO SAY...
And, would like some feedback on your responses, before I remove your details (for your privacy)...
We are hoping to conduct one-on-one interviews with people (in-person or over the phone), if you think you would like to help, Please leave your details below so that we can contact you to arrange an interview at a time that suits you. (This section will be detached from your survey to ensure answers remain anonymous) Your help is greatly appreciated.
Name: ______
Contact Details: ______
If you have any further queries about this research please contact the University of New South Wales via Todd Walton (9385 3478, [email protected]) or Dr Wendy Shaw (9385 3715, [email protected])
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In-depth interview: guide and topics
-Read participant information statement -Hand over participant consent form -Setup recording device -Commence interview
*Demographics
Name: for records only, to prevent double interviewing and distinguish interviews.
Age: demographic purposes – different age groups may have different viewpoints and opinions.
Where were you born? for records and demographic purposes, and to compare later interview responses to locality and cultural background of respondent.
Where is your permanent address, and how long have you lived there? this is to ascertain respondent’s proximity to the coast, as people who have lived near and used the beach a long time may have views different to those who are relatively new to the beach environment.
How did you hear about the study? for future research purposes.
*(General) Semi-open-ended interview questions
How would you describe your beach use? this is to establish the interviewee’s perceived familiarity with the beach.
-prompt for specific details within the respondent narrative, for example, ‘so you go to the beach quite often?’
What are your thoughts on risk taking at the beach, such as staying safe in the surf and so on? the respondent’s reply, illustrating how risk conscious they view themselves, will help establish how dangerous , how much caution, and how much awareness they have of beach and surf hazards.
In what ways do you think people take risks at the beach? this will illustrate the presence of a consensus regarding risky behaviour at the beach and in the surf, and how the interviewee views the beach in the context of a risk-taking environment.
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*(Targeted) Open-ended interview questions
Is there anything about going to the beach or going in the surf that particularly frightens you? a hazard perception question that may also capture the respondent’s beliefs about how dangerous/safe they view the beach. Prompts/likely information:
-Do you think this is the most dangerous aspect of being at the beach? test consensus of response in relation to other beachgoers (i.e. not the respondent).
-Knowing this hazard is present would it put you off going to the beach/in the surf? hazard perception and risk-taking attitude question.
-Is there anything else that frightens you, or would keep you from going to the beach/in the surf? hazard perception and risk-taking attitude.
Have you ever been involved in a situation that scared or shocked you at the beach? the respondent may recall a situation that came about due to a lack of, or an inadequate self- determined risk/danger assessment. Prompts/likely information:
-If I may ask, were you injured or hurt? Determine the significance of the judgment lapse .
-Did this experience put you off going to the beach (or in the surf)? The significance of the judgment lapse will help illustrate the level of risk people are taking and/or the level of ignorance of beach hazards.
Why do you go to the beach? investigate the enculturation of beach use in Australia as well as evaluate answers that involve risky behavior.
Why do you think people, including Australians and tourists, go to the beach in Australia? this will give insight into the perceived popularity of the Australian beach, as well as the respondent’s beliefs about how it is encultured into others.
Is there anything else that you would like to express about the beach – about going to the beach, or beaches in general in Australia? Asking the respondent if there is anything else they would like to add in a general sense allows for more freedom on the interviewees behalf to talk about, or mention a topic they believe is important but has been otherwise neglected up until this point of the interview.
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Appendix III
Application and statistical analysis of personality tests
Personality measure items from the HEXACO-PI-R, the JPI-R and the BSSS where positioned at the beginning of the survey questionnaire – just after the initial five socio-demographic questions (explicated in Chapter 3, Section 3.6.1.2). The reason for this was that personality questions were thought to be less stimulating than subsequent beach-activity questions because of their volume and the tedious nature of answering the same type of question (all personality questions were likert scaled). The personality and trait measure section of the questionnaire contained thirty-nine items in total (twenty-one from the HEXACO-PI-R, ten from the JPI-R risk taking and risk avoidance scale, and eight from the BSSS version of the SSS-
V; as explained in the Section 6.2.1).
Following retrieval of completed questionnaires, the collected data were subject to a set of statistical analyses. Statistical analysis was used to interpret the multiple instruments used in the questionnaire (i.e. HEXACO-PI-R, JPI-R and BSSS) and correlated alongside the cultural and socio-demographic data retrieved from the other sections of the survey questionnaire
(described in Chapter 3, Section 3.6.2). Correlating personality test results with the cultural and socio-demographic responses of questionnaire participants permitted personality traits to be assessed, in context, with the attitudes, beliefs and behaviours of beachgoing participants.
Significance testing using various methods, including mean, variance and median comparisons, were undertaken to interpret personality assessment results. Microsoft Excel 2007 (on which questionnaire response data were entered) did not have an adequate statistical pack for the required analysis of personality test results. As a result, data were transferred from Excel to the statistical software SPSS version 20. Once data had been input correctly into SPSS, statistical output from parametric t-tests and analysis of variance (ANOVA) could be achieved.
The t-statistic was used to analyse significant difference between independent variables on
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dependent measures. A t-test uses sample means and mean differences to draw inferences about the corresponding population means and mean differences (Gravetter and Wallnau,
2012). As an example, a t-test was used to compare the mean for male sensation-seeking scores versus the mean for female sensation-seeking scores.
For independent variables containing three or more means (treatment groups), a one-way
ANOVA was used. The ANOVA F-statistic permits the researcher to evaluate the mean differences among two or more populations using sample data (Gravetter and Wallnau, 2012).
For example, ANOVA was utilised when testing for difference in sensation seeking scores between age groups (which contained six treatments representative of the six groups categorised in the questionnaire: 18-20, 21-29, 30-39, 40-49, 50-59 and 60+). If a significant difference was found between groups as the result of an ANOVA, a Tukey post-hoc test was conducted to reveal which specific groups were significantly different. Post-hoc tests are additional hypothesis tests that are done after an ANOVA to determine exactly which mean differences are significant and which are not (Gravetter and Wallnau, 2012).
Significance levels for the t-statistic and F-statistic were set at an alpha level of 0.05 (α = 0.05).
The alpha level for a hypothesis test (such as a t-test or a one-way ANOVA) is the probability that the test will lead to a Type I error if the null hypothesis is true108 (Gravetter and Wallnau,
2012). Anything above 0.05 resulted in acceptance of the null hypothesis (in other words, no identified difference between groups/treatments).
ANOVA output is based on a few assumptions. One of the assumptions is homogeneity of variance, and this was examined for each calculation using Levene’s test (p>0.05). Another assumption of ANOVA is that the data are normally distributed. In SPSS this was tested using the Shapiro-Wilk test for normality (p>0.05) as well as being visually analysed with the use of
108 Type I error occurs when the null hypothesis is rejected when it should not have been, in other words, the researcher concludes that a treatment does have an effect when, in fact, it has no effect (Gravetter and Wallnau, 2012). xxiii
normality plots. Due to sample sizes, the Shapiro-Wilk test was selected as the most suitable test for reducing the chances of Type I error (Razali and Wah, 2011).
The assumptions and requirements of parametric techniques such as t-tests and ANOVA often entails that they are difficult to apply in geography, which involves connections between people and the physical, environmental context in which they act (Walford, 2011).
Nonparametric tests do not impose the same requirements and scrutiny of parametric testing
(such as t-tests and ANOVA) – specifically, conforming to a normal distribution – and are better suited to some samples. Where a two-sample comparison did not meet the requirements of normality for a t-test, the non-parametric Mann-Whitney u-test was performed which only assumes random sampling and that observations can be ordered (Lindsay, 1997). When the assumptions of ANOVA were not met, the nonparametric Kruskal-Wallis h-test was employed, which requires each treatment within a sample to have at least five scores (Gravetter and
Wallnau, 2007). The equivalent pairwise comparisons were computed for the Kruskal-Wallis test by SPSS in place of a Tukey test used for post-hoc comparisons of significance.
Parametric tests (t-test or ANOVA) were performed in tandem with non-parametric tests
(Mann-Whitney or Kruskal-Wallis) to reduce the possibility of error by falsely rejecting or accepting the null hypothesis if normality of the sample was marginal (i.e. close to the alpha level of 0.05). In addition, if an ANOVA result was marginally greater than the alpha level of
0.05, then Tukey’s test was run before reporting a (possibly wrong) non-significant result.
Because multiple comparison tests such as Tukey are more focused, they have power to find differences between groups even when the overall ANOVA is not significant (Hsu, 1996).
The following pages display box-plots illustrating the significant results reported in Chapter 6,
Section 6.3. Non-significant personality test results are not shown.
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Basic demographics:
Figure x.1 Box plot of risk-taking scores (rts) across age groups.
Figure x.2 Box plot of sensation seeking scores (sss) across age groups (the dots represent possible outliers in the data).
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Figure x.3 Box plot of Sociability scores across age groups.
Figure x.4 Box plot of Fairness scores across age groups.
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Figure x.5 Box plot of Prudence scores across age groups.
Beach use patterns:
Figure x.6 Box plot of risk-taking scores for respondents grouped by why they go to the beach. xxvii
Figure x.7 Box plot of sensation seeking scores for respondents grouped by why they go to the beach.
Beach use frequency:
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Figure x.8 Box plot of risk-taking scores for respondents grouped by how often they go to the beach.
Figure x.9 Box plot of sensation seeking scores for respondents grouped by how often they go to the beach.
Figure x.10 Box plot of Sociability scores for respondents grouped by how often they go to the beach.
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Residency:
Figure x.11 Box plot of risk-taking scores across residency groups.
Figure x.12 Box plot of sensation seeking scores across residency groups.
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Appendix IV
Psychoanalytic theory and practice
Freud theorised psychoanalysis and employed psychoanalytic practice in the late 19th and early
20th centuries as a therapeutic technique to help individuals who had developed neuroses
(Freud, 1961 [1923]). These patients suffered emotional disturbance, not necessarily debilitating, but enough to require therapy. Freud believed suppressed sexual wishes, formulated during the psychosexual phases of childhood (ages 0 to 6), were the source of all neuroses. Due to societal restrictions and notions of civility, the repressed energy of these unconscious desires could manifest into anxiety and/or other physical symptoms (Freud, 1976
[1900]; Freud, 2011 [1920]).
While Freud’s founding insights on psychoanalysis have evolved, and approaches to therapy vary, they are fundamental to current practice (Tuckett et al., 2008). Freud’s students Adler and Jung elaborated on many of Freud’s original psychoanalytic theories such as the development of neuroses during childhood, and the role of id, ego and superego in shaping personality109 (Hergenhahn, 2009). The field of psychoanalysis has also been informed by theorems of Lacan and Klein (Erdelyi, 1985; Roudinesco, 2004). Lacan later added to Freud’s original tripartite model of psychical life (the id, ego, and superego) introducing the Symbolic,
Imaginary, and Real registers. Lacanian psychoanalysis concerns itself with the understanding of human speech, and linguistics, asserting that the unconscious is structured like a language.
Commenting on the practice of psychoanalysis in its many forms Thompson (2003 [1950], preface) states that, “since psychoanalysis is a theory and method of therapy designed to help the human being master his (sic) difficulties in living, the material to be observed and worked with must be the same in every school of psychoanalytic thinking”. Unifying the paradigmatic is the systemic goal of explaining the seemingly ‘irrational’ behaviour of the subject. Concepts
109 Id, ego and superego constitute Freud’s structural model of the mind (Freud, 1961 [1923]). xxxi
such as the unconscious, the death drive, and Oedipus complex cannot mirror psychical
‘reality’, instead their role is as conceptual strategies to “take into account the iterations of enigmatic and hitherto fore inexplicable psychical phenomena” (Kingsbury, 2009a, p480).
What this means is that the human-made concepts and theories about the mind employed by psychoanalysis are somewhat like caricatures that can never truly represent the intangible psychic phenomena that they model.
According to Freud (psychic) life is split, contradictory, repressed, and fuelled by unconscious motives, re-directed by the feuding processes of the (rational) ego, (selfish) id and (moral) superego (Thomas, 2007). In therapy, the psychoanalyst is charged with facilitating the analysand’s (/interviewee’s) ‘discovery’ of unconscious material, material that is repressed through psychological resistance in the form of defence mechanisms110 (Freud, 1984 [1915],
2011 [1920]). Kingsbury (2009b, p488) states that, “psychoanalytic theory makes the radical claim that people are cut off from and cannot know what they want”. By talking through whatever comes to mind, the analysand builds a collective network of their unconscious to be interpreted by the analyst who is then able to provide insight, and hopefully, solutions to the analysand’s mental disturbances.
As well as being drawn on to address harmful psychic disorders, Freud’s structural theory of the mind (id, ego and superego) can help illustrate the many complex and contradictory struggles that accompany everyday life (Freud 1961 [1923]; Thomas, 2007). The development of the unconscious ego (the sense of “I”) for example is socially necessary, yet psychically devastating. Through an identification process that involves desire, pain, loss, psychic attachment, object relations, projection, and transference, subjects assume the social
110 In Freudian psychology, defence mechanisms are unconscious strategies brought on to maintain a socially acceptable self-image. These include mechanisms such as repression, projection, and rationalisation. xxxii
differences of gender, sexuality, nationality, and race111 (Thomas, 2007). The psychic scarring that proceed the social qualification of the subject, and the never to be entirely reconciled trauma of psychically separating from the mother or primary caregiver, provide the source of all neuroticism (Thomas, 2007; Kingsbury, 2009b).
Psychoanalysis in its attempt to signify the formations of desire, defences, identifications and fantasies asserts that the unconscious takes place throughout the subject’s life and the everyday processes of living such as speaking, thinking and dreaming (Kingsbury, 2009b).
Putting into words experiences, feelings and intentions elicits unconscious thoughts, desires, memories etc., whilst having the material effect of alleviating psychic pain – the talking cure.
Even through attempts to analyse ‘Freudian slips’ such as dreams, fantasies, jokes and slips of the tongue, the unconscious can never be fully conceptualised through conscious efforts, still, psychoanalysis demands an account of the production of the unconscious, even whilst its contents and dynamics remain hidden from knowing (Pile, 2010a). For this, psychoanalysis takes a lot of time, over a long period of sessions and years. The ‘obsession’ of psychoanalysis with the unconscious does not mean to discount consciousness however. Instead it “redirects the ‘truth’ of the subject beyond the words or representations in a subject’s narrative”, indicating that the unsaid/unsayable are as, if not more, important than the said (Thomas,
2007, p541). Kingsbury (2009b) states that when we say something we always say more than we meant to say, when we speak, we always leave elements of doubt. In this regard, in psychoanalysis, language always trumps our intentions. A key strength of psychoanalysis
(specifically for this research, and for geography) is its ability to demonstrate the way in which the structuring of the individual psyche is an inherently social phenomenon (Frosh, 1987; Pile,
1996; Wilton, 1998). This subsumes taking seriously space as dynamic and expressive, and that feelings and subjectivity itself are inherently spatial (Kingsbury, 2009b). As stated, the
111 This identification process is also referred to as alterity: the realisation that the self is ‘other’, an individual entity in the universe (Wilton, 1998). xxxiii
realisation that the individual is not a flowing, contiguous appendage of the world is traumatic, and the subsequent consolidation of a ‘self’ through this process (alterity) is ambivalent
(Wilton, 1998; Thomas, 2007). This division between self and world is dependent upon, and necessitates a second ‘split’ within the individual, the formation of the dynamic unconscious
(Pile, 1996, Wilton, 1998). Given the unconscious is developed through the spatially acknowledged otherness of self-recognition, and that desires and aggression are repressed out of compliance to socio-cultural norms, psychoanalysis – as posited by Pile (1996) – is, subsequently, a ‘spatial discipline’.
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Psychoanalytic considerations in qualitative and interpretative geography
Psychoanalysis is spatial in concept and in practice (Pile, 1996). Pile (1996) states that psychoanalysis calls into question the neat homology between identity, self-awareness and consciousness. To explain the relationship between society and the individual, Healy (2010) likens psychoanalysis to the mathematical concept of a ‘Mobius topology’ by which “the social enters, constitutes and positions the individual112. Similarly by showing that desire, fantasy and meaning are a (real) part of everyday life, it shows how the social is entered, constituted and positioned by individuals” (Pile, 1993, p123). This conception dictates that as desire, fantasy, and meaning are re-produced in individuals and societies they suffuse the human experience
(Healy, 2010). The researcher, researched, analyser, analysand reside within the Mobius strip, inside which the research or analysis process cannot be imagined as an objective undertaking.
Pile (1996, p76) writes,
“Freud warns: you may act like an absolute ruler but, never mind the intermediaries,
you must listen to the people – what tongues are they talking in, where are they talking
from – otherwise how are you to understand your place in the world?”
Healy (2010) explains that an implication of this is we cannot easily attain a perspective outside our own desires or the functioning of social ideology, and attempts to do so might be effective but will never feel complete (this concept is similar in theory to the Lacanian concept of extimacy113). Consideration of the research process as an embodied undertaking is reflected in the practice of interpretative geography.
112 A Mobius topology or Mobius strip is a surface with only one side that is non-orientable. A Mobius strip can be made by taking a strip of paper and giving it a half-twist, and then joining the ends of the strip together to form a loop (Healy, 2010). 113 Extimacy is not the contrary of intimacy. Extimacy says that the intimate is other – like a foreign body. For Kingsbury (2007, p246), extimacy allows us to “understand how subjectivity, society and space take place through the twists and turns of external intimacy and ‘intimate exteriority’”. xxxv
From qualitative to interpretative research there is a shift from a distanced and abstract research position, towards an intersubjective relationship between the interviewer and the interviewed in which both attempt to create an understanding of what is taking place around them (Pile, 1991). Pile (1991, p460) argues that acknowledging positionality (and limitations) in research is tantamount to its performance, stating, “problematizing the research process must be an integral part of any geography that wants to question its own power and enable the power of others”.
Psychoanalysis is largely theorised, practiced, and reliant on inductive reasoning whereby general concepts of the mind are derived from and based on particular or repeated empirical observations in a clinical setting (Kingsbury, 2009a). Freud’s psychoanalysis, which has become more therapy based since his death, was developed as “an instrument of knowledge capable of exhuming the archaeology of the relationship between individual and society” (Pile, 1991, p461). Freud’s human subject is at once a product of social and cultural space conceptualising individual subjectivity, and at the same time extra-discursively represented through the interiority of unconscious psychic life (Lyons and Coyle, 2007). The task of analysis is to bring forth the internal conflicts and repressed memories preventing psychic wholeness114.
However, this is not easily achieved, and can take several years. Freud developed the key methods of analytic listening, free association and transference to practice psychoanalysis and help the analysand achieve greater self-control. Psychoanalytic geographers have imported many of the methodological commitments outlined by these processes to inform critical human geographic research (Kingsbury, 2003, 2009a).
According to Pile (1991), in interpretative geography the researcher must relinquish the claim to represent other people, narrating what the interviewed has said within the context of the
114“The question of first importance (for the psyche) is the preservation or, if lost, the restoration of psychic wholeness, the safeguarding of the basic natural dynamic unity of the psyche developing its potential as a true personal self” (Guntrip, 1971, p94). xxxvi
researcher’s own beliefs or opinions, or within the context of another’s. The melding of beliefs between researcher and researched is called transference (Freud, 1958 [1912]). Transference is a consideration in psychoanalysis and geography for contextualising the research encounter as a social experience whilst acknowledging that, “the researcher never has the ability to claim the truth” (Pile, 1991, p467) (Pile, 2010b). The interpretative technique championed by Freud to discern meaning in personal narrative, in its subtexts and multiplicities – partly affected by transference, but mostly hidden in unconscious discourse – is analytic listening. Analytic listening is used as a tool for discovering new observations and alternative meanings in what the interviewed says (Kingsbury, 2009a). As Kingsbury (2009a) points out, despite the lack of engagement and uncertainty about psychoanalytic considerations in human geography, there are a number of ostensibly psychoanalytic commitments that have been imported into geography. Concepts and conditions such as being mindful of multiple viewpoints, attendance to self-reflexivity and power dynamics, and being appreciative of insider/outsider, researcher/researched distinctions are all geographic techniques comparable to analytic listening (Kingsbury, 2009a). The difference between psychoanalysis and human geography in this regard is the relative brevity of the usual encounter between researcher and research subject. Thomas (2007, p543) states:
“...psychoanalysis in social science research cannot extend into the practice of
individually psychoanalyzing our research subjects. Thus, psychoanalytic theory has its
limits as a tool for directly questioning any subject’s individual investments in social
and spatial difference”.
Moreover, the interview procedure in geographical research is too brief to make the necessary connections to psychoanalyse a subject’s particular identification process and individual subjectivity of personalised unconscious libidinal workings (Thomas, 2007). Thomas (2007) also questions how much of the unconscious can be taken seriously in human geography. How
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much of an interviewee’s lingual account is attributable to their unconscious when some things can never be discursively represented or expressed (Callard, 2003). Thomas (2007, p541) offers a possible solution:
“making space for psychoanalytic theory for subjectivity research includes thinking
through unconscious as well as conscious identification: the ways that subjects act
without intent or consciousness, regard, or even conscientiousness as they take on and
reproduce identity, and through the lens of radical politics, how they do so even
against their own self-interest given the social harms of normative social relations”.
Apart from the methodological issues raised above, there is the ethical issue of appropriating the subject’s (hidden) unconscious (Thomas, 2007; Pile, 2010b). Considering arguments that the research encounter is too short for psychoanalysing of the subject, this is rarely of concern.
Freud (1984 [1915]) states that the unconscious is not reducible to a historical or geographical construct. Callard (2003, p304) writes, “this means that the unconscious, and hence subjectivity, is not malleable in the way that cultural and social theory wishes”. Callard (2003) explains that this means psychoanalysis is ‘tamed’ in geography. Despite geography’s failure to grasp the ‘radically other’ and ‘deeply disruptive’ unconscious, a consideration of psychoanalytic methodology represented geography’s initial foray into the possibilities and prospects of psychoanalysis (such as Burgess et al., 1988a, 1988b and Pile, 1991) (Philo and
Parr, 2003; Thomas, 2007). Psychoanalytic methods have been used to theoretically evaluate current methods and methodologies in geography, yet have been short of systematically engaging with them (Kingsbury, 2009a). The focus of incorporating psychoanalytic methods into geographic research points particularly to research encounters between the analyst and analysand (in psychotherapy), which is the researcher and researched (in geography). For example, Bondi (2003) introduced psychoanalytic conceptualisations of identification and empathy in ways of thinking about fieldwork interactions. Bondi (2003, p64) highlights xxxviii
questions about positionality and power in research encounters where “psychoanalytic conceptualisation provides a useful resource for understanding the dynamics of these relationships”. The importance of acknowledging positionality and thinking reflexive in research has long been the campaign of feminist researchers such as Bondi. Thomas (2010, p480) writes that, “[psychoanalytic] methodologies can complement the feminist goals of positionality”, and this assigns the researcher to remain vigilant in their research associations with participants.
In another example of how psychoanalytic considerations of the methodological process have informed human geography, Healy’s (2010) insight into collaborative activist research provides an example of how research can be recast as a process of encountering and traversing fantasies. Healy (2010, p504) concludes that psychoanalysis can “attend the pleasures of
[socially constructed economic space] as well as emphasize the capacity of people to create new social relations, desires, and senses of self by traversing their fantasies and inhabiting economic space in a different (ethical) way”. In another example, Pile (2005) brings to the fore the social and political forces that contribute to urban fantasies in creating the real city. A key method in the work of Pile (2005) is the use of visual images to inform the contingency and multiplicity of scenes, events and objects in the city, and echoing Freud’s dream analysis, illustrate how dreams are a way to understand the (hidden) desires, wishes and fears of city life. Rose (2012, p154) explains that psychoanalysis can be used to explain visual confusions, blind spots and mistakes “because our immersion in a certain kind of visuality and our encounters with certain kinds of visual images tutor us into particular kinds of subjectivity”.
However, Rose (2012) warns of the limitations of psychoanalytic approaches to visual images commenting that psychoanalysis has little to say about some forms of social difference (such as race and class), and concentrates on the psychic construction of difference at the expense of considering the social construction and consequences of difference.
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Human geographers have not only engaged the scholarly work of Freud, Healy (2010) readdressed geographical research encounters as a process of encountering and traversing fantasies, desires, subjectivities and societies, by drawing upon Lacanian psychoanalytic theory. Pile (1996) also cites Lacan to triangulate Lefebvre’s three social spaces (spatial practice, representation of space, and representational space) next to Freud’s topographical matrix of the mind (unconscious, preconscious, and conscious) and Lacan’s three registers of psychical life (Real, Imaginary, and Symbolic). Kingsbury has sought to bring to the fore the theoretical, ethical and political challenges that the social theories of the ‘new Lacanians’ pose for contemporary psychoanalytic approaches in geography (2003), as well as provide insight into the importance of topology in Lacan’s work by exploring the extimacy of vehicle magnets and their slogans (2007). Although highly sceptical of feminism, Lacan and his theories have been acknowledged by the feminist geographers Blum, Nast and Bondi as nevertheless relevant to challenging heteropatriarchy and spatial oppression (Kingsbury, 2009b).
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