Abstract
Sebastiao Salgado, the most renowned Brazilian photographer nowadays,
develops in projects such as Outras Americas, Terra e Exodos, a
photography committed to a new testimonial condition in the globalized
world. It is easy to recognise the portraits by Salgado, profoundly
disquieting, by the looks directed right at the lens of the photographer,
the observed silently accusing his observer. We feel that Salgado,
nevertheless, seeks to create a link of empathy with those represented,
at the same time as demonstrating an acute sensitivity for the guilt
contained in his own observation. It is as if the exposure of the
poverty adversely affected his own reality. It is not possible to
know what represents the unique experience of each one of these
people, portrayed by the travelling photographer, but the affective
contact created by face and direct look freeze a privileged moment
of ethical provocation. The exotic is found here, in the centre
of the incommunicable experience of suffering and dignity, of perseverance
in survival and of the presence of the inhuman in the life portrayed
that is revealed in Salgado's photos as silence, the sign of something
unutterable and non-communicable.
SEBASTIAO SALGADO - IMAGES AT THE EDGE OF THE GLOBALIZED WORLD
It is dark disaster that brings the light (Blanchot)
Sebastiao Salgado, the most renowned Brazilian photographer nowadays,
develops in projects, such as Other Americas (1999), Workers (1997)
Land (1997) and Exodus (2000), photography committed to a new testimonial
condition in the globalized world.
The Exodus project is the most ambitious of Salgado's works. As
a selection from among more than 80,000 photos taken over the last
decade, it represents a kind of resume of his career as a documental
photographer. The book has four separate parts - Emigration and
refugees, The African tragedy, Latin America: the rural exodus and
the urban disorder and Asia, the new urban face of the world - all
of them with their own intrinsic logic and narrative. The report
on the emigrants and refugees exposes the positive side of the fight
for a better life in another part of the world; the second, the
exasperating and tragic consequences of the African civil wars;
the third recovers elements from Other Americas and Land in a nostalgic
and very personal narrative of the Latin American destiny; and the
fourth and final part in a more conventional image of reality of
inhuman overpopulation of the Asiatic megacities.
This impressive multiplicity in Salgado's Exodus project contains
an enormous variety of themes and documentary fact with an undeniable
historical value as documentary testimony. There are great differences
between the four sections, and a closer study would be needed to
approach the complex levels of the themes. Anyway, we always find
his very personal and critical fingerprint in the will to denounce
and mobilize and in the sensitivity towards the emotional dimension
of the scenario.
It is easy to recognize the portraits by Salgado, profoundly disquieting,
by the looks directed right at the lens of the photographer (Slide
1), the observed silently accusing his observer. We feel that Salgado,
nevertheless, seeks to create a link of empathy with those represented,
at the same time as demonstrating an acute sensitivity for the guilt
contained in his own observation. As Blanchot1 has observed, responsibility
is an innocent guilt, and exposing himself and his camera eye to
this guilt, Salgado projects it as responsibility of those who view
his photos. We are necessarily involved by the subject, perhaps
even fascinated by it, but at the same time subjected to a relation
of bad consciousness in which objectivity and solidarity are confronted2.
It is as if the exposure to the poverty adversely affected the artists
and the viewer's own reality. It is not possible to know what represents
the unique experience of each one of the people portrayed by the
travelling photographer, but the affective contact created by face
and direct look freeze a privileged moment of ethical provocation.
The exotic is found here, in the center of the incommunicable experience
of suffering and dignity, of perseverance in survival and of the
presence of the inhuman in the life portrayed, revealed in Salgado's
photos as silence, the sign of something unutterable and non-communicable.
Instead of identifying the representation of the radically different
and the "exterior", the exotic in Salgado's photos is the result
of the recognition of an interior condition assumed as non-identity,
like a blank space - the middle ground - from which the identity
is suggested in the possibility of a political project of solidarity.
Nonetheless, in his project, the photos themselves are intended
to balance in a dangerous swing between two abysms of representation.
On the one hand, banality of pornographic overexposure of the poverty
is avoided, and, on the other, he resists the temptation of falling
into the romantic exoticism of a supposed original identity in pre-modern
cultures or in the simple life of poverty. The anthropological eye
is no longer the privilege of the traveler who visits a strange
world, guaranteed by his external position. It is characterized
by the look that takes risks and exposes itself to what is defined
as a stranger, foreigner and visitor. In his quest, he looks at
himself, recognizing that the alterity of the exotic involves and,
at the same time, represents, the collective possibility of an unconfessable
community with that which threatens and escapes.
As spectators of Salgado's photos we are always facing not only
an inconvenient problem, but also an extreme and singular human
consequence at the edge of recognition. We know that these social
and political problems really exist, but in Salgado's photos we
are confronted with an element of irrecognition, a kind of unpleasant
gap in our political knowledge, exposed as human suffering in its
harsh materiality and as the silent testimony of an irrepresentable
experience. There is no way we can possibly imagine what these people
have been experiencing, no way we can place ourselves in their situation
and no way we can recognize their actual experience. The images
reveal this unpronounceable and inhuman secret belonging to the
Other. If his photos did not go further than to the point of exposing
this uncomfortable reality, Salgado would probably be just another
press photographer with a fine instinct for the political drama
and for the flagrancy of human despair. But, we actually find in
Salgado's photos a search for something beyond the documentary fact,
a transcendence in another dimension of hope, a universality in
a quest for humanity and as a possible redemption beyond his apocalyptic
vision of modernity. Sometimes it is just present as a discreet
light shedding even desperate scenes in an emergency of dignity
(Slide 2) and resistance. Sometimes it is constructed by visual
rhetoric in his photos as an explicit interpretation of the representative
circumstances in an explicit biblical or revolutionary reference
(Slide 3). Or, rephrasing the problem: What is the actual aim of
Salgado's artistic quest? Beyond misery, beyond the crude, cruel
facts of history and beyond the factual event, he is, in his own
words, looking for hope, dignity, resistance and humanity. This
is the supposed transcendence that makes it possible to avoid the
dangers and dead-ends of journalistic superexposure of reality.
The question we might put critically is: what does he actually find?
What do we find when in search of transcendent universality? We
find nothing. What does it mean to find nothing? In this "nothing"
something else becomes visible, in the place of hope, despair, instead
of resistance, patience, and in the place of redemption, we perceive
disaster, as defined by Blanchot, as an unrepresentable event, the
contrary of the apocalypse because instead of the "end" it is what
interrupts the narrative movement from beginning to end and therefore
becomes impossible to narrate.
Blanchot's definition of disaster is enigmatic. It is an event
that does not happen, but interrupts the narrative links in historical
conscience and memory. The disaster is an event "to come", like
a threat in the future, a premonition, and, at the same time, something
terrible that happened in the past, a nightmare. Its temporality
is this suspension between "not yet" and "already been". The emergence
of disaster is the in-between time of Salgado's "hope", that gives
his project an apocalyptic promise of redemption, and the silent
forgetfulness3 of what could emerge as a consequence of the situations
represented. It reminds us of the Freudian definition of trauma,
when he analyzes the emotional problems in relation to trauma as
the efforts of the psychic system to prepare itself retrospectively
for a shock that has already occurred in the past in an attempt
to reach it and dominate it. This is why representation of catastrophe
can be seen as, at the same time, an effect of experience and as
the possibility of experience. Representation of catastrophe and
disaster is impossible. They are defined as limits to experience,
but at the same time, representation is the only possibility to
approach this experience.
We will come back to this point later, but just anticipate a conclusion
saying that it might be the great quality of Salgado's artistic
sensitivity, that he, in spite of his own intentions, on this point,
reveals a modern condition of representation as the revelation of
the poverty of communicative experience, to use Benjamin's terms,
but this time with no promise of salvation.
The travelling observer
The first theme to be approached in Salgado's work is how it testifies
to a contemporary relationship between observer and observed that
critically subverts the Cartesian relationship between subject and
object within the contemporary premises of ethics. Salgado is an
observing artist and, at the same time, a traveler searching for
an original encounter with the "other". The representation of this
privileged moment is always experienced as a dramatic relation -
a contact zone of cultural translation - between identity and difference
in which both observer and observed are subject to changes even
if the observer has the power and the technological control over
the encounter. In early modernity, the first view upon the other
is attached to the original renaissance definition of the exotic,
translating the Greek word "exoticos" that designates whatever comes
from the outside, that is, objects and persons from the non-Greek
world. It is what Niclas Luhmann (1991) called "the observer of
first degree", characterized by the unidimensionality of vision
upon the foreign, the outsider, the native or, simply, the external
other. There is neither reflexivity nor empathy, and no real desire
for knowledge beyond what is needed for control and hegemony. The
object of vision is detached from the observer and no interpretative
depth is found. In a second moment, terror and fear arrive as the
first sign of a threat against the self-sufficient observing "self"
by the presence of the other, and grace and compassion as a first
weak sign of the possibility to recognize a sort of identity between
self and other. For Luhman, these emotions indicate the emergence
of an "observer of second degree", who is able to see himself seeing,
and reflects upon his own observing situation as an influence upon
the observed object and as influenced by it. This is the observer
known from a Cartesian epistemology, and the traveler of the 18th
and 19th centuries exploring the New World is the typical incarnation
of this observer of the 2nd degree, as a viewer capable of adapting
himself cognitively in relation to his perspective and to this object,
and who sees himself being formed by the emotions and experiences
of the observed. Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht (1998) suggests that the
difference between the observer of first and second degree is a
result of a transformation that occurs historically within the expansive
project of modernity in which the reflexive capacity represents
the fulfillment of the project of enlightenment, but also as a critical
discussion of its means, reaching its peak with Kant's critiques
at the end of the 18th century. From High Modernism, in the beginning
of the 20th century, the critical revision of scientific knowledge
begins to predominate over confidence in the observed facts, leading
to a general relativism and skepticism at the turn of the millennium
towards the utopian possibilities of the great narratives of evolution,
progress and liberation. From the beginning of modernity we can
define "exoticism" as representation of the other, but in the globalized
world the representation is qualified by the threat against the
view of the observer by the subject of observation. There is no
longer anything outside the scope of globalized knowledge, but the
exotic then appears as a hybrid presence in the heart of recognizable
experience. In this reversion, the exoticism is reflected as the
sensitive register by the traveler/observer of the impossibility
to support the look of the "other". We are not only talking about
the other as a curious bystander who looks at one, but as scenery
that imposes itself as an insupportable presence of everything that
offends and assault one's vision and oblige the travelling observer
to look away and avoid the visual presence of otherness in a reality
recognized as the absolute limit of his vision.
Within globalized visuality, where everything is virtually exposed,
and nothing really "new" or unexpected is introduced, otherness
reappears as present, not as a cultural alternative or a utopian
promise. On the contrary, the travelling observer is exposed to
the vision of the other; he is himself an object of curiosity, of
envy, strangeness and hate (Slide 4). In this way, the experience
of the exotic appears embodied in emotions provoked by blind misery,
chronic disease, exclusion (social, religious, cultural etc.) and
is manifested as eyes with no hope and as a scene of obtuse affliction
and anguish. Obviously, we are not talking of a radically new observing
position, an observer of the 3rd degree, but as an inevitable dramatic
extreme of the reflexive condition of observation: to find yourself
under the mortifying eye of the "other" overexposing what you are
really looking at. This is probably what happens to us most frequently,
when we look at Salgado's photos. We recognize the social and geo-political
content of his object, but, at the same time, it is overthrown by
the rough materiality and sensitivity of the living experience.
The artistic project of Salgado is to enforce this reversion and
to impose it on his viewer's attention: We are not permitted to
look away. In the words of Blanchot, this situation defines a different
ethical ground for identity: "In the relation of the self (the same)
to the Other, the Other is distant, he is a stranger; but if I reverse
this relation, the Other relates to me as if I were the Other and
thus causes me to take leave of my identity. Pressing until he crushes
me, he withdraws me, by the pressure of the very near, from the
privilege of the first person. Thus, when I am wrested from myself,
there remains passivity bereft of self (sheer alterity, the other
without unity). There remains the unsubjected, or the patient."(1994:p.18)
Instead of a mobilizing solidarity and identity, Blanchot describes
the emerging common ground as a consequence of the described reversion
as the neutrality of "nobody", as a subjectivity without subject,
as an existence without being in a space without place (exile) and
in a time without present. Instead of identity between the self
and the other, Blanchot denounces a loss of identity in a paralyzing
relation to disaster, where disaster is understood as something
which cannot be accessed by subjectivity, not realized by cognition
and not represented by language.
The paradoxes of testimony and engaged art
The work of the Brazilian photographer, Sebastião Salgado is meant
to be a provocation. Its artistic approach is engaged, its object
is subalternity and its purpose is to expose a reality of exclusion
from an alternative point of view. We can discuss Salgado's work
from its own premises as a courageous reformulation of the principles
of engaged art, and in this perspective there is initially no doubt
about its excellence and international recognition. Within this
perspective, it might be interesting to examine some of the rhetorical
issues that Salgado puts into practice, seeking solidarity with
citations to heroic hagiography. But we can also discuss it from
another perspective, attempting to question what the artistic construction
of its photographic object signifies in relation to a discussion
of the representative conditions in a globalized reality. First
of all, what has united the themes in Salgado's photography since
he started as a professional in 1973 on trip to Africa is a concern
for the groups excluded from society.
In Other Americas, his focus was directed towards authentic people
and traditions on the Latin American continent and understood as
part of their resistance and survival under the threat of a unified,
global, capitalistic and consumer society. In Workers we saw a global
mapping of a singular relation of exploitation in a kind of trans-historical
condition of the working man that denounced a continuous alienation
of the main ground for human dignity during 200 years of industrialization.
And in Exodus the focus is on the victims of the many violent ways
national, ethnic, religious and cultural identity is questioned
in a globalized world.
Common throughout these projects is the artist's paradoxical approach.
On the one hand, Salgado's photography incarnates the global viewpoint
- whether it is from a European modernity, like in his nostalgic
description of a vanishing authentic America, or from the structural
point of view towards the relation between exploitation and the
archaic inheritance of human labor. Or, finally, from the viewpoint
of a globally informed spectator about international conflict zones
in Exodus, on the one hand and on the other hand, his artistic intention
to reverse the relation of the implicit political authority in the
representation of the excluded and subaltern people, groups or individuals.
As such the paradox is between the necessity to embody a globalized
viewpoint equivalent to the hegemonic view of the international
media, a technological equivalent to the "observer of first degree",
with the purpose to expose the global condition of singular and
local suffering, and the attempt to convert the "eye" of the singular
"other" into a universal comment on the world situation, to make
every unique story implicit in his photos a kind of general comment
on human misery, which is equivalent to a radical exposure of the
reflexive inversion of observation of the second degree. But the
premises of this search are the existence of a kind of universal
transcendence in the heart of social cultural specificity, which
becomes the real aim of Salgado's artistic quest. In the project,
Other Americas (1999), in which Salgado himself describes as the
statement of the returning Latin American emigrant after a kind
of voluntary exile in Europe and Africa, who returns to search for
the lost cultural origins on several long travels lasting 7 years,
and always privilege the focus on the "other" America, native Indian
and magic, which contain the secret of its cultural unity. In the
mountains of Peru and Ecuador (Slide 5), or in the Yanomami territory
in the Amazon forest (Slide 6), he finds what he calls "the most
concrete of the irreality of this Latin America, so mysterious and
suffering, so heroic and noble."(1999:p.13) In this statement we
are not far from the writings of the Latin American modernists of
the forties, like Alejo Carpentier, and their ideas about a trans-historical,
a real magical dimension, intrinsic to genuine Latin American culture.
In Salgado's view, this dimension of authentic transcendence is
the counterweight to the dangers in documentary press photography,
or, as Alan Riding explains in the preface to the same book, when
he assures that "Salgado doesn't offer a catalogue of human suffering
because he captures the cultural and spiritual dimensions that make
the life in the Other Americas tolerable. Salgado doesn't romanticize
his portraits, does not highlight the folkloric exoticism of the
Indian life that so strongly attracts the western tourists, but
even then he can't hide his own nostalgia for the simplicity of
rural life without dissimulation and after the profound mysticism
that sustains it"(1999: p.9) There is no doubt that Riding's guarantee
works both ways, showing the concerns of Salgado's project and their
real risks. Salgado offers a way out of his paradoxical project,
pointing back to romantic metaphysics of authenticity and longing
as the possibility of avoiding the dead ends of documentary realism.
There is probably no doubt about the consequences for the artist
who accepts this peculiar paradox as a condition of possibility
for his work. He is burdened by the recognition of his own presence
as a representative of a hostile and external reality - which is
the way it is normally experienced by his "subjects" - as one of
the external enemies, or even as a direct reason for their situation.
Perhaps this explains Salgado's ascetic devotion to his work, his
renunciation of the glories normally received by the well-known
Magnum "artists", his avoidance of the commercialization of his
work on the art market he denounces, and his lone exposure to the
difficult and often dangerous situations during his travels in the
field, portrays the photographer as a kind of post-modern beggar
monk assuming the necessary sacrifice to be able to approach the
people he wants to save, or in the case of the artist, the groups
to whom he wants to offer a possibility of expression as their own
legitimacy: "Even then, they accepted to be photographed because
I think they wanted their suffering to be published. Whenever possible,
I explained that it was my intention. Many just stood up in front
of my camera, directed themselves to it as if it were a microphone."(2000:p.7)
More than a critique of Salgado's intentions, which are probably
very noble, the discussion is more interesting as a questioning
of the relations between representation and identity in photography.
From the point of view of the photographer, the problem is that
he economically and technologically represents a global representative
hegemony, but as a factual "testimony" he assumes another kind of
responsibility and makes every effort to distinguish his own work
from sensationalism of poverty and from the presence of the ordinary
press. Many elements of documentary press photography will still
be found in Salgado's work because these elements offer him the
possibility of global mobility and freedom, but on the other hand,
his designation to testify is paradoxically a designation to transgress
the limits of his external and isolated position as a journalist,
to be able to "talk the case" of the others, as it happens in his
report on the landless workers (the "sem-terra") (Slide 7) in Brazil.
To assume the position of the witness is to expose one's identity
to influence, and, as Elie Wiesel said, to bear witness is to bear
the solitude of responsibility, which means, on the other hand,
to bear the responsibility of this solitude. Or, in other words,
the witness is never neutral or objective, but always exposed to
the consequences of his own presence. That's why the witness ends
up being a witness to what is being expressed by means of his own
presence. Levinas says that for the witness, even if he testifies
that "I'm here in front of the other", his testimony becomes a vehicle,
an occurrence, a reality, a position or a dimension beyond himself.
From the point of view of the photographer's subjects, they become
confronted by the peculiar consequences of being represented in
their lack of expressivity, in their despair, affliction, suffering,
grief, solitude, passivity and resignation. In some cases, Salgado's
subjects do express themselves explicitly, exposing an ideological
content, like in the case of the Brazilian "Sem Terras" (Slide 8)
- in others they are expressed implicitly by the focus upon their
inexpressivity. They are overdetermined as a victimized group with
a specific external identity, but without any expressive content.
Representation and subalternativity
It might be relevant to discuss the problem of cultural and social
identity in relation to this problem. Within the analysis of the
contemporary conditions of representation it is often alleged that
nothing really escapes the hegemonic knowledge of the Western view.
In this perspective, everything - gender, nation, ethnicity, religion
and culture, is measured by the same global equalizing terms of
identity in comparison to which singular and local societies are
differentiated on a scale of authenticity, ranging from "original"
to "hybrid" and "degenerated". Globalized culture gives rise to
a kind of "weak universality", an identity which is imposed upon
us - often undesired and alienated - with no transcendence or utopian
promise compared to which singular and local identities seem strong
and consistent. In these terms the "weak" global identity is representable
as the "same" and the recognizable, when the singular cultural forms
are affirmative to this globality as strong exceptions, exotic and
almost indescribable in their unique singularity. The strength of
identity is here on the side of the secret, allied to enigma and
difference, and, from the point of view of Western globality, it
is an object of desire, expressing a nostalgic feeling of loss,
typical of modernity, within the experience of increasing sameness.
None of this is novelty, but what I want to emphasize is that in
the triad of knowledge, representation and identity, identity is
not necessarily on the side of representability, even if it seems
so when we refer, for instance, to national icons, such as banners,
songs, symbols etc. Strong identity in a globalized world is only
representable as a reflex of secrecy and silence; and at the limit
of identity we can only recognize absence of rationality, pure emotion,
madness or indescribable suffering. This is why identity seems to
be polarized between a banalized representation - the national or
cultural icons of a romantic belonging and identification, for instance,
on the one hand - and, on the other, an artistic representation
without any explicit or identifiable content that aims at a point
of irrepresentability.
Within the romantic context, this point of irrepresentability existed
as the negative sign for an emerging sublime transcendence in humanity
or universality. Under the contemporary post-exotic condition this
irrepresentability only points at an experience of culture as "trauma":
as something inexpressible and unrecognizable in a reality where
we cannot find any differentiating hope of another redeeming authenticity.
On this point, the paradoxical relation in Salgado's work appears
as the difficulty to differentiate his photos from the pornographic
superexposure of the victims of catastrophe by the global press
just contributing to the redundancy, insensitivity and banality
towards human suffering. Instead Salgado appeals to a reversal of
the representative relation. He searches for expressions of emotion
and mute experience behind silence; he reveals anger, hope, despair,
patience and denouncement in his portraits. In the context of subaltern
studies the famous question by Spivak - Can the subaltern speak?
- defines the subaltern by the impossibility of self-expression.
The subaltern can't speak because they would not be subaltern if
they could! In this problematic view, the subaltern are characterized
in a relation of power as a negation of representative hegemony
in an overdetermination of identity as the excluded other, which
resists symbolization. No one can take the word of the subaltern
and "talk for" them without reproducing the relation of power implicit
in subalternity, but even then Salgado tries to find a way to express
a meaning in silence.
It is important, as observed by John Beverly4, that the irrepresentability
of the subaltern does not refer to an ontological category - a kind
of Lacanian "reel" - but rather to a geographical, social and economic
dimension, where the subaltern "designates a subordinated particularity,
(...) in a world where power relations are spatialized" (1999:p.2).
This is why subalternity is inscribed in a spatial reference, in
a form for territoriality or institutional definition that makes
them representable in spite of their lack of self-expression and
their identity underdetermination. There is no doubt that Salgado's
focus on the images of the Exodus, of the refugee camps and of the
Diaspora represents contemporary metaphors which pictures the instability
of a world in spatial and geographical redefinition, where globalization
is seen as an effect of the breakdown of the last global walls and
the last definite frontiers between east and west, between north
and south - but they are also the images of a strong imaginary rescue
of the possibility of redemption and of the "great return".
As a concluding remark, we might say that Salgado performs a very
difficult balance between what Roland Barthes (1980) called the
Doxa - the recognizable ideological content of criticism - and the
Punctum - the exclusive effect reached by an affective quality that
punctures the representational surface, leaving a kind of emotional
wound in the spectator. In Barthes' study this Punctum reached the
spectator by an autobiographical link to unconscious memory, but
in Salgado's work it emerges as an effect of what we with Geoffrey
Hartman5 could call a "secondary trauma" in the continuous exposure
of death and suffering. The problem is if this initially emotionally
mobilizing effect ends up causing insensitivity to the represented
reality or even being an accomplice to an undesired effect of irreality,
resulting from the routine exposure of these facts by the media.
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Notes
1Maurice Blanchot, The writing of disaster, Transl. By Ann Smock.
Indiana UP. 1994. p.22
2 "There are two principal ways in which reflective human beings
try, by placing their lives in a larger context, to give sense to
those lives. The first is by telling the story of their contribution
to a community. This community may be the actual historical one
in which they live, or another actual one, distant in time and place,
or a quite imaginary one, consisting perhaps of a dozen heroes and
heroines selected from history and fiction or both. The second way
is to describe themselves as standing in an immediate in the sense
that it does not derive from a relation between such a reality and
their tribe, or their nation, or their imagined band of comrades.
I shall say that stories of the former kind exemplify the desire
for solidarity, and that the stories of the latter kind exemplify
the desire for objectivity." Richard Rorty, "Solidarity or Objectivity"
in Post-Analytic Philosophy, ed. John Rajchman and Cornel West (New
York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1985), 3
3 "The disaster is related to forgetfulness - forgetfulness without
memory, the motionless retreat of what has not been treated - the
immemorial, perhaps. To remember forgetfully: again, the outside."(Blanchot,
1994:p.3)
4 John Beverly, Subalternaty and Representation - Arguments in
Cultural Theory. Durham and London: Duke UP. 1999.
5 Geoffrey Hartman. The Longest Shadow. In the aftermath of the
Holocaust. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana UP, 1994.
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