The BBQ is an Australian cultural ritual. It is technology that is so rigorously embedded in the national cultural framework that its original purpose, the very thing that it was designed to do (in this case, cooking food) is only one of the many loose boundaries in which it operates. In Blokes and Barbies: The legendary Australian barbeque, Mark Thomson (1999) argues that the BBQ represents much more than a burnt ‘snag’, a consumer product, a cooking tool or an outdoor appliance. In fact it doesn’t even matter if the food is awful. Its purpose is much larger.
An Australian barbeque is an instant excuse for socialising. The Barbie is a loose social framework in which many things are possible – an open door for anything from fairly outrageous drunken behaviour to the simple pleasure of eating outdoors in the company of friends. The barbeque has become the quintessential Australian social event. This appears to confuse people from overseas, who are expecting some sort of culinary display. They don’t realise that a barbeque is more a form of behaviour (in some cases fairly pathological at that) or ritual rather than the cooking of gourmet food outdoors under strict foodie guidelines. It’s too bad if it got rained out or you ran out of gas or there was a terrible family fight. You were going to have a barbeque, and that’s the main thing (1999:112).
Thomson (1999) shows through examples of BBQs made from steel drums, old farm machinery, wheel barrows, fences and even a good old (clean) spade, there is no such thing as the BBQ. Each yields a unique story simply through its material composition, which in many cases delves into local history because of the resourceful re-use of old technology. Yet, he doesn’t stop there. His stories weld together the makers, their families, ethnic origins and cultural culinary practices and the places where BBQs are (home) made and used. He shows how this Australian icon niftily manoeuvres across a broad cultural landscape by flexibly embracing the diversity of its makers, reflecting the nuances of the landscape and the heterogeneous textures of available materials.
de Laet and Mol (2000) provide us with the concept of fluid to illustrate the social and mechanical malleability of a simple technology across multiple boundaries. They show how the Zimbabwe Bush Pump ‘B’ is more than just a steel pump designed to provide clean drinking water in the African bush. They write it ‘is solid and mechanical and yet, or so we will argue, its boundaries are vague and moving, rather than being clear or fixed’ (2000:225).
[…] we hope to contribute to an understanding of technology that may be of help in other contexts where artefacts and procedures are being developed for intractable settings which urgently need working tools. Because in traveling to ‘unpredictable’ places, an object that isn’t too rigorously bounded, that doesn’t impose itself but tries to serve, that is adaptable, flexible and responsive - in short, a fluid object - may well prove to be stronger than one which is firm (2000:225).
Like the BBQ, there is no one, single or deterministic means for how the pump should work and, furthermore, they question what ‘working’ actually means. They show how in addition to pumping water, it provides health, builds communities and the nation state. Its multiplicitous nature is built into the blue steel pump head, pump stand and lever, enabling it to operate in diverse conditions across different boundaries. The central tenet of their argument is that the Bush Pump undermines notions of what we accept as ‘appropriate technology’ because it is designed to ‘serve’, rather than ‘impose itself’ on people, places or tasks (ibid). It is a fluid technology that is strong because of its malleability.

What emerges from my notes and images of various Air-Stream events (such as barbeques before monthly meetings) is evidence of many visual representations of the network. There is no one single, systematic or stable notion of the network, rather there are multiple realities of the system.
Those who study representations in medical practice have written about multiple realities. In her work on the disease, Anaemia, Mol (1999) found that the definition of the disease could not be contained in a neat, defined or stabilized way. It evades singular representation because it takes various forms, not all of which can be seen or understood by everyone. These include skin, blood, x-rays, tests, statistics, reports, walking, doctors, scientists, patients and their families. Mol argues that Anaemia consists of multiple realities, many more than would be evident from a study of medical practitioners or of patients or of the laboratory. She writes, ‘there are different versions, different performances, different realities, that co-exist in the present’ (1990:79).
Similarly, Martin’s (1994) study of the immune system is premised on the belief that knowledge about the body can be found in a variety of sources inside and outside traditional disciplinary confines, in everyday spaces, in lay people’s views as well as in those who are responsible for the health of a society. She deliberately seeks people and places, books and media, representations and ideas outside the confines of science because, for her, ‘seeing science as an active agent in a culture that passively acquiesces does not provide an adequately complex view of how scientific knowledge operates in a social world’ (1994:7). Thus she moves back and forth across messy boundaries and intersections; in on and offline spaces, in the professional and everyday, the clinical and the visceral. She does this, she writes, ’To avoid the idealized picture of science, which its practitioners would like to believe, that knowledge is produced inside and flows out, I would like to consider an alternative series of guiding metaphor altogether’ (Martin 1994:7). Her alternative metaphor is one of the body as a porous and flexible entity.
These STS literatures are currently helping me explore the fluid and multiple characteristics of volunteer community wireless networks.
