Analyse a five-minute extract of an episode of a soap Essay Example for Free

Analyse a five-minute extract of an episode of a soap Essay Analyse a five-minute extract of an episode of a soap, drawing reference to features which maximise the dramatic effectiveness as seen by the audience. The dramatic effectiveness as viewed by the audience is governed by many different features, for example the camera position and angle. During a peak of tension or drama, the director may choose a close-up shot of a zooming-out shot that fades to either the credits or the next scene. The way the camera captures the picture can either make a scene take off or just blend in with any other. At the beginning of Eastenders, there was a birds eye view of the Square that was interrupted by different conversations about dramas going on in different peoples lives. I thought this type of spy camera method was fast moving and really effective in maximising the drama in the characters lives. Another spy camera whisked through the market stalls giving you a feeling of being there with the characters and involved in their situations or dilemmas, whether they be good or bad. I wasnt aware of much editing in the scenes I was analysing, but I often heard sound from the following scene, while the current one was still in shot. I also noticed this can be done with the music being held and the picture changing. This became apparent in the first scene, the title music was still playing but the picture had changed to Barry, a failing businessman who was having a angry conversation with his father Roy, about the car lot. During the theme tune and credits at the end of the soap, I noticed straight after the last scene has ended they interrupt the broadcast to advertise another show or an event the channel needs promoting. Although this editing isnt about the scenes in the extract I still think it is important. Lighting is a major and significant part in a soap. I am not sure if it adds too much dramatic tension to a plot but it does help to set the scene. In the scene, between Roy and Barry there was a silhouette created by Barry. He is usually being talked down to. I think by creating a shadow, standing in the window, with his father sitting in an armchair looking at his back, it shows Barry is trying to exert some dominance. Unfortunately for Barry his father was not going to stand being talked to like that. One other effect created by lighting I noticed was in E20. The lights in the night-club are always dim, even in the day, creating a mysterious, sinister atmosphere . Lighting can be very useful to a soap but only if employed in the correct manner. Dialogue is, I believe extremely important. The characters intellect and personality is expressed through their language. The dialogue can build tension to extreme points so the audience are on the edge of their seats, and are suspending their own belief. They forget real life for half an hour and become involved in the soap plot. Slang is used all the time in soaps, it is like the their own language. I also saw dialogue styles change when one person spoke to different people. A prime example is Beppe. When he talks to Lynne he has a soft, kind and friendly tone, but when Lynne leaves E20 (the setting of their conversation), Steve and Beppe are left alone. At this point Beppe lets out a sigh and his tone changes completely. His harsh and defensive attitude returns as he talks to Steve. Tension in the scenes can be maximised by shouting or screaming. I feel a scene would be far more dramatic and interesting if the characters in it were screaming at each other, rather than discussing things politely. Voiceovers are very subtly used in soaps so that viewers barely realise that they are being used. Sometimes a shot is held for a few seconds longer than usual, while the sound from the next scene is already playing. This tension-building pause is very effective, and maximises totally the dramatic tension present in the scene. This is the only type of voice-over I saw in my five-minute extract. Sound effects or FX are fundamental in the formula of soap operas, they are used in every scene almost. They come in the forms of a juke box playing in the Vic, a baby crying in the market or a tube going past. These sounds add to the supposed reality of the soap. Another sound effect everyone knows is the theme tune. The song readies the audience for the beginning of the forth coming drama. The music is used in the theme tune (which I have already analysed) is very effective in suspending the audience, making them anxious. I noticed that there is always music playing in the Vic that co-ordinates with the moods of the punters. For instance if there has just been a argument or fight and everyone is depressed and have nothing to talk about, the music will be subtle and quiet. Where as if there was a party or a celebration going on the music would be much more lively and loud. Also when there is a fight or a scene of some kind, the music is always conveniently halted, and everyone turns to see what is going on. I believe the music doesnt do much by itself to maximise the dramatic effectiveness, but it certainly aids the actors in building the illusion that they are in a busy and social place. Visual effects are a real essential in displaying maximised drama in soaps. I saw this from the very start of my five-minute extract. The opening picture of the Thames river in the last few years has been swapped from a model to a real one. This change has resulted in another very noticeable colour-change in the river. I think the new picture looks more realistic and gives the viewers a better first impression of the soap. Sometimes visual effects make the subject more believable and therefore more enjoyable to watch. The location is very important in the formula of a soap, as all have a certain area they focus on. In Hollyoaks it is the area around the college, in Coranation Street it is the street and in EastEnders it is the Square. There are very few scenes set outside the specific location in this case the Square. If there ever is the writers will make that whole episode in that place. It just so happened that in the five-minute extract that I was analysing Roy had met his long-lost son Nathan. He had many of the scenes he was in, set at Nathans mothers house. This is an unusual feature in a soap, and to be honest I didnt enjoy having the new sets and characters introduced. It didnt feel like the proper EastEnders. I feel that, that the location has a big part in the plots and dramas in soaps, as we know whenever a new location is introduced a new plot is too. Costumes add to our understanding of a character by reflecting their wealth and personality. You wouldnt expect Kat (tart) to wear the clothes Dot (pensioner) wears or vice a versa. I have been noticing now Billy has lost all his money he has ditched his designer suits for is old casual, trampy clothes. The costumes play a small part in maximising drama, as the audience wouldnt be too interested if two people in E20 were wearing tracksuits. They would be much more interested if they were wearing trendy, skimpy clothes

Country study comparison Indian vs. Brazilian women :: essays research papers fc

  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  In the United States, equality between a husband and a wife continues to progress, globally, especially in third world countries the oppressed position of women in the household continues to be a prevalent problem.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  In both India and Brazil, women are not equal to their male counter parts within the household. Factors that cause this inequality to manifest and continue can be attributed to, male dominant and patriarchal histories of the countries, employment opportunities, legal issues, especially the rights of women to control reproduction, educational opportunities for girls, marriage customs and vulnerability of women within the family due to fears of violence, domestic abuse and rape.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  The colonization of Brazil occurred primarily by men of Portuguese decent. In creating this society, they instilled the values of machismo, which is highly prevalent in most Latin American countries. This concept provides men with both authority and strength while women are placed in a position of sub-ordinance and identified as weak (Aboim, 2004). The tradition of machismo as well as the patriarchy of the Catholic Church places men in dominance (Aboim, 2004). With this â€Å"superiority† comes the sexual double standard. Men are expected to demonstrate their masculinity and virility through premarital and extramarital sexual experiences. Women on the other hand are expected to remain virginal until marriage and to be faithful to their husbands throughout the union (Lewis, 1997). These values are difficult to put into practice at times because of poverty, isolation and unequal ratios of men and women. As a result, illegitimacy and prostitution are common. Although this paradox exists, the traditional view is the most widely accepted (ibid). Women have, despite their oppression, been allowed open access to schools and employment, and in 1933 were granted suffrage on a national level. With this equality they were still not recognized as equal with men in matters of the home. Men were automatically considered the heads of h ousehold and women were legally subordinate to their husbands. Under a Civil Code reform put into place in 1962 women were considered to be in the same legal category as minors (Aboim, 2004). Women of middle and upper classes could not legally represent their family or administer the families’ assets. Nor were they able to work outside of the house without the consent of the male head of household (Alvim, 2000). Before the creation of the new Brazilian Constitution of 1988 which granted men and women equality under the law, the father or husband of a woman had the right to control any employment contract she entered into.

Practical Demonkeeping Chapter 14-15

14 DINNER Travis parked the Chevy on the street in front of Jenny's house. He turned off the engine and turned to Catch. â€Å"You stay here, you understand. I'll be back in a little while to check on you.† â€Å"Thanks, Dad.† â€Å"Don't play the radio and don't beep the horn. Just wait.† â€Å"I promise. I'll be good.† The demon attempted an innocent grin and failed. â€Å"Keep an eye on that.† Travis pointed to an aluminum suitcase on the backseat. â€Å"Enjoy your date. The car will be fine.† â€Å"What's wrong with you?† â€Å"Nothing,† Catch grinned. â€Å"Why are you being so nice?† â€Å"It's good to see you getting out.† â€Å"You're lying.† â€Å"Travis, I'm crushed.† â€Å"That would be nice,† Travis said. â€Å"Now, don't eat anybody.† â€Å"I just ate last night. I don't even feel hungry. I'll just sit here and meditate.† Travis reached into the inside pocket of his sport coat and pulled out a comic book. â€Å"I got this for you.† He held it out to the demon. â€Å"You can look at it while you wait.† The demon fumbled the comic book away from Travis and spread it out on the seat. â€Å"Cookie Monster! My favorite! Thanks, Travis.† â€Å"See you later.† Travis got out of the car and slammed the door. Catch watched him walk across the yard. â€Å"I already looked at this one, asshole,† he hissed to himself. â€Å"When I get a new master, I will tear your arms off and eat them while you watch.† Travis looked back over his shoulder. Catch waved him on with his best effort at a smile. The doorbell rang precisely at seven. Jenny's reactions went like this: don't answer it, change clothes, answer it and feign sickness, clean the house, redecorate, schedule plastic surgery, change hair color, take a handful of Valium, appeal to the Goddess for divine intervention, stand here and explore the possibilities of paralyzing panic. She opened the door and smiled. â€Å"Hi.† Travis stood there in jeans and a gray herringbone tweed jacket. He was transfixed. â€Å"Travis?† Jenny said. â€Å"You're beautiful,† he said finally. They stood in the doorway, Jenny blushing, Travis staring. Jenny had decided to stick with the black dress. Evidently it had been the right choice. A full minute passed without a word between them. â€Å"Would you like to come in?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"Okay.† She shut the door in his face. Well, that hadn't been so bad. Now she could put on some sweatpants, load the refrigerator onto a tray, and settle down for a night in front of the television. There was a timid knock on the door. Jenny opened it again. â€Å"Sorry, I'm a little nervous,† she said. â€Å"It's all right,† Travis said. â€Å"Shall we go?† â€Å"Sure. I'll get my purse.† She closed the door in his face. There was an uncomfortable silence between them while they drove to the restaurant. Typically, this would be the time for trading life stories, but Jenny had resolved not to talk about her marriage, which closed most of her adult life to conversation, and Travis had resolved not to talk about the demon, which eliminated most of the twentieth century. â€Å"So,† Jenny said, â€Å"do you like Italian food?† â€Å"Yep,† Travis said. They drove in silence the rest of the way to the restaurant. It was a warm night and the Toyota had no air conditioning. Jenny didn't dare roll down the window and risk blowing her hair. She had spent an hour styling and pinning it back so that it fell in long curls to the middle of her back. When she began to perspire, she remembered that she still had two wads of toilet paper tucked under her arms to stop the bleeding from shaving cuts. For the next few minutes all she could think of was getting to a restroom where she could remove the spotted wads. She decided not to mention it. The restaurant, the Old Italian Pasta Factory, was housed in an old creamery building, a remnant of the time when Pine Cove's economy was based on livestock rather than tourism. The concrete floors remained intact, as did the corrugated steel roof. The owners had taken care to preserve the rusticity of the structure, while adding the warmth of a fireplace, soft lighting, and the traditional red-and-white tablecloths of an Italian restaurant. The tables were small but comfortably spaced, and each was decorated with fresh flowers and a candle. The Pasta Factory, it was agreed, was the most romantic restaurant in the area. As soon as the hostess seated them, Jenny excused herself to the restroom. â€Å"Order whatever wine you want,† she said, â€Å"I'm not picky.† â€Å"I don't drink, but if you want some†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"No, that's fine. It'll be a nice change.† As soon as Jenny left, the waitress – an efficient-looking woman in her thirties – came to the table. â€Å"Good evening, sir. What can I bring you to drink this evening?† She pulled her order pad out of her pocket in a quick, liquid movement, like a gunslinger drawing a six-shooter. A career waitress, Travis thought. â€Å"I thought I'd wait for the lady to return,† he said. â€Å"Oh, Jenny. She'll have an herbal tea. And you want, let's see†¦Ã¢â‚¬  She looked him up and down, crossed-referenced him, pigeonholed him, and announced, â€Å"You'll have some sort of imported beer, right?† â€Å"I don't drink, so†¦Ã¢â‚¬  â€Å"I should have known.† The waitress slapped her forehead as if she'd just caught herself in the middle of a grave error, like serving the salad with plutonium instead of creamy Italian. â€Å"Her husband is a drunk; it's only natural that she'd go out with a nondrinker on the rebound. Can I bring you a mineral water?† â€Å"That would be fine,† Travis said. The waitress's pen scratched, but she did not look at the order pad or lose her â€Å"we aim to please† smile. â€Å"And would you like some garlic bread while you're waiting?† â€Å"Sure,† Travis said. He watched the waitress walk away. She took small, quick, mechanical steps, and was gone to the kitchen in an instant. Travis wondered why some people seemed to be able to walk faster than he could run. They're professionals, he thought. Jenny took five minutes to get all the toilet paper unstuck from her underarms, and there had been an embarrassing moment when another woman came into the restroom and found her before the mirror with her elbow in the air. When she returned to the table, Travis was staring over a basket of garlic bread. She saw the herbal tea on the table and said, â€Å"How did you know?† â€Å"Psychic, I guess,† he said. â€Å"I ordered garlic bread.† â€Å"Yes,† she said, seating herself. They stared at the garlic bread as if it were a bubbling caldron of hemlock. â€Å"You like garlic bread?† she asked. â€Å"Love it. And you?† â€Å"One of my favorites,† she said. He picked up the basket and offered it to her. â€Å"Have some?† â€Å"Not right now. You go ahead.† â€Å"No thanks, I'm not in the mood.† He put the basket down. The garlic bread lay there between them, steaming with implications. They, of course, must both eat it or neither could. Garlic bread meant garlic breath. There might be a kiss later, maybe more. There was just too damn much intimacy in garlic bread. They sat in silence, reading the menu; she looking for the cheapest entree, which she had no intention of eating; and he, looking for the item that would be the least embarrassing to eat in front of someone. â€Å"What are you going to have?† she asked. â€Å"Not spaghetti,† he snapped. â€Å"Okay.† Jenny had forgotten what dating was like. Although she couldn't remember for sure, she thought that she might have gotten married to avoid ever having to go through this kind of discomfort again. It was like driving with the emergency brake set. She decided to release the brake. â€Å"I'm starved. Pass the garlic bread.† Travis smiled. â€Å"Sure.† He passed it to her, then took a piece for himself. They paused in midbite and eyed each other across the table like two poker players on the bluff. Jenny laughed, spraying crumbs all over the table. The evening was on. â€Å"So, Travis, what do you do?† â€Å"Date married women, evidently.† â€Å"How did you know?† â€Å"The waitress told me.† â€Å"We're separated.† â€Å"Good,† he said, and they both laughed. They ordered, and as dinner progressed they found common ground in the awkwardness of the situation. Jenny told Travis about her marriage and her job. Travis made up a history of working as a traveling insurance salesman with no real ties to home or family. In a frank exchange of truth for lies, they found they liked each other – were, in fact, quite taken with one another. They left the restaurant arm in arm, laughing. 15 RACHEL Rachel Henderson lived alone in a small house that lay amid a grove of eucalyptus trees at the edge of the Beer Bar cattle ranch. The house was owned by Jim Beer, a lanky, forty-five-year-old cowboy who lived with his wife and two children in a fourteen-room house his grandfather had built on the far side of the ranch. Rachel had lived on the ranch for five years. She had never paid any rent. Rachel had met Jim Beer in the Head of the Slug Saloon when she first arrived in Pine Cove. Jim had been drinking all day and was feeling the weight of his rugged cowboy charisma when Rachel sat down on the bar stool next to him and put a newspaper on the bar. â€Å"Well, darlin', I'm damned if you're not a fresh wind on a stale pasture. Can I buy you a drink?† The banjo twang in Jim's accent was pure Oklahoma, picked up from the hands that had worked the Beer Bar when Jim was a boy. Jim was the third generation of Beers to work the ranch and would probably be the last. His teenage son, Zane Grey Beer, had decided early on that he would rather ride a surfboard than a horse. That was part of the reason that Jim was drinking away the afternoon at the Slug. That, and the fact that his wife had just purchased a new Mercedes turbo-diesel wagon that cost the annual net income of the Beer Bar Ranch. Rachel unfolded the classified section of the Pine Cove Gazette on the bar. â€Å"Just an orange juice, thanks. I'm house hunting today.† She curled one leg under herself on the bar stool. â€Å"You don't know anybody that has a house for rent, do you?† Jim Beer would look back on that day many times in the years to come, but he could never quite remember what had happened next. What he did remember was driving his pickup down the back road into the ranch with Rachel following behind in an old Volkswagen van. From there his memory was a montage of images: Rachel naked on the small bunk, his turquoise belt buckle hitting the wooden floor with a thud, silk scarves tied around his wrists, Rachel bouncing above him – riding him like a bronco – climbing back into his pickup after sundown, sore and sweaty, leaning his forehead on the wheel of the truck and thinking about his wife and kids. In the five years since, Jim Beer had never gone near the little house on the far side of the ranch. Every month he penciled the rent collected into a ledger, then deposited cash from his poker fund in the business checking account to cover it. A few of his friends had seen him leave the Head of the Slug with Rachel that afternoon. When they saw him again, they ribbed him, made crude jokes, and asked pointed questions. Jim answered the jibes by pushing his summer Stetson back on his head and saying: â€Å"Boys, all I got to say is that male menopause is a rough trail to ride.† Hank Williams couldn't have sung it any sadder. After Jim left that evening Rachel picked several gray hairs from the bunk's pillow. Around the hairs she carefully tied a single red thread, which she knotted twice. Two knots were enough for the bond she wanted over Jim Beer. She placed the tiny bundle in a babyfood jar, labeled it with a marking pen, and stored it away in a cupboard over the kitchen sink. Now the cupboard was full of jars, each one containing a similar bundle, each bundle tied with a red thread. The number of knots in the thread varied. Three of the bundles were tied with four knots. These contained the hair of men Rachel had loved. Those men were long gone. The rest of Rachel's house was decorated with objects of power: eagle feathers, crystals, pentagrams, and tapestries embroidered with magic symbols. There was no evidence of a past in Rachel's house. Any photos she had of herself had been taken after she arrived in Pine Cove. People who knew Rachel had no clue as to where she had lived or who she had been before she came to town. They knew her as a beautiful, mysterious woman who taught aerobics for a living. Or they knew her as a witch. Her past was an enigma, which was just the way she wanted it. No one knew that Rachel had grown up in Bakersfield, the daughter of an illiterate oil-field worker. They didn't know that she had been a fat, ugly little girl who spent most of her life doing degrading things for disgusting men so that she might receive some sort of acceptance. Butterflies do not wax nostalgic about the time they spent as caterpillars. Rachel had married a crop-duster pilot who was twenty years her senior. She was eighteen at the time. It happened in the front seat of a pickup truck in the parking lot of a roadhouse outside of Visalia, California. The pilot, whose name was Merle Henderson, was still breathing hard and Rachel was washing the foul taste out of her mouth with a lukewarm Budweiser. â€Å"If you do that again, I'll marry you,† Merle gasped. An hour later they were flying over the Mojave desert, heading for Las Vegas in Merle's Cessna 152. Merle came at ten thousand feet. They were married under a neon arch in a ramshackle, concrete-block chapel just off the Vegas strip. They had known each other exactly six hours. Rachel regarded the next eight years of her life as her term on the wheel of abuse. Merle Henderson deposited her in his house trailer by the landing strip and kept her there. He allowed her to visit town once a week to go to the laundromat and the grocery store. The rest of her time was spent waiting on or waiting for Merle and helping him work on his planes. Each morning Merle took off in the crop duster, taking with him the keys to the pickup. Rachel spent the days cleaning up the trailer, eating, and watching television. She grew fatter and Merle began to refer to her as his fat little mama. What little self-esteem she had drained away and was absorbed by Merle's overpowering male ego. Merle had flown helicopter gunships in Vietnam and he still talked about it as the happiest time in his life. When he opened the tanks of insecticide over a field of lettuce, he imagined he was releasing air-to-ground missiles into a Vietnamese village. The Army had sensed a destructive edge in Merle, Vietnam had honed it to razor sharpness, and it had not dulled when he came home. Until he married Rachel, he released his pent-up violence by starting fights in bars and flying with dangerous abandon. With Rachel waiting for him at home, he went to bars less often and released his aggression on her in the form of constant criticism, verbal abuse, and finally, beatings. Rachel bore the abuse as if it were a penance sent down by God for the sin of being a woman. Her mother had endured the same sort of abuse from her father, with the same resignation. It was just the way things worked. Then, one day, while Rachel was waiting at the laundromat for Merle's shirts to dry, a woman approached her. It was the day after a particularly vicious beating and Rachel's face was bruised and swollen. â€Å"It's none of my business,† the woman said. She was tall and stately and in her mid-forties. She had a way about her that frightened Rachel, a presence, but her voice was soft and strong. â€Å"But when you get some time, you might read this.† She held out a pamphlet to Rachel and Rachel took it. The title was The Wheel of Abuse. â€Å"There are some numbers in the back that you can call. Everything will be okay,† the woman said. Rachel thought it a strange thing to say. Everything was okay. But the woman had impressed her, so she read the pamphlet. It talked about human rights and dignity and personal power. It spoke to Rachel about her life in a way that she had never thought possible. The Wheel of Abuse was her life story. How did they know? Mostly it talked about courage to change. She kept the pamphlet and hid it away in a box of tampons under the bathroom sink. It stayed there for two weeks. Until the morning she ran out of coffee. She could hear the sound of Merle's plane disappearing in the distance as she stared into the mirror at the bloody hole where her front teeth used to be. She dug out the pamphlet and called one of the numbers on the back. Within a half hour two women arrived at the trailer. They packed Rachel's belongings and drove her to the shelter. Rachel wanted to leave a note for Merle, but the two women insisted that it was not a good idea. For the next three weeks Rachel lived at the shelter. The women at the shelter cared for her. They gave her food and understanding and affection, and in return they asked only that she acknowledge her own dignity. When she made the call to Merle to tell him where she was, they all stood by her. Merle promised that it would all change. He missed her. He needed her. She returned to the trailer. For a month Merle did not hit her. He did not touch her at all. He didn't even speak to her. The women at the shelter had warned her about this type of abuse: the withdrawal of affection. When she brought it up to Merle one evening while he was eating, he threw a plate in her face. Then he proceeded to give her the worst beating of her life. Afterward he locked her outside the trailer for the night. The trailer was fifteen miles from the nearest neighbor, so Rachel was forced to cower under the front steps to escape the cold. She was not sure she could walk fifteen miles. In the middle of the night Merle opened the door and shouted, â€Å"By the way, I ripped the phone out, so don't waste your time thinking about it.† He slammed and locked the door. When the sun broke in the east, Merle reappeared. Rachel had crawled under the trailer, where he could not reach her. He lifted the plastic skirting and shouted to her, â€Å"Listen, bitch, you'd better be here when I get home or you'll get worse.† Rachel waited in the darkness under the trailer until she heard the biplane roar down the strip. She climbed out and watched the plane climb gradually into the distance. Although it hurt her face, and the cuts on her mouth split open, she couldn't help smiling. She had discovered her personal power. It lay hidden under the trailer in a five-gallon asphalt can, now half full of aviation grade motor oil. A policeman came to the trailer that afternoon. His jaw was set with the stoic resolve of a man who knows he has an unpleasant task to perform and is determined to do it, but when he saw Rachel sitting on the steps of the trailer, the color drained from his face and he ran to her. â€Å"Are you all right?† Rachel could not speak. Garbled sounds bubbled from her broken mouth. The policeman drove her to the hospital in his cruiser. Later, after she had been cleaned up and bandaged, the policeman came to her room and told her about the crash. It seemed that Merle's biplane lost power after a pass over a field. He was unable to climb fast enough to avoid a high-tension tower and flaming bits of Merle were scattered across a field of budding strawberries. Later, at the funeral, Rachel would comment, â€Å"It was how he would have wanted to go.† A few weeks later a man from the Federal Aviation Administration came around the trailer asking questions. Rachel told him that Merle had beat her, then had stormed out to the plane and taken off. The F.A.A. concluded that Merle, in his anger, had forgotten to check out his plane thoroughly before taking off. No one ever suspected Rachel of draining the oil out of the plane.

Definition Of Respect For Autonomy - 1993 Words

Respect for autonomy is central to modern bioethics. Along with the principles of nonmaleficence, beneficence and justice, respect for autonomy forms the basis of the principle based approach to bioethics {BEAUCHAMP2009}. This approach, also known as principlism, has come to dominate the way bioethics is done. Despite the extensive critique of principlism within the bioethics literature, that which principlism does not or cannot address is still often taken as falling outside the ethical domain {CALHOUN1988}. Furthermore, principlism has been widely adopted within healthcare, where there is little or no acknowledgement of the limitations of this approach. As a result many of the practice based, real world, solutions to bioethical problems continue to rely entirely on principlism. This phenomenon is well illustrated by the problem of decision making when the patient cannot participate. It is widely accepted that competent patients should be able to make their own healthcare decisions. This claim is underpinned by the principle of respect for autonomy which is realised through processes such as informed consent and shared decision making. But what happens when the patient cannot participate in decision making;, under these circumstances whose voice should be heard? In the seminal text Principles of Biomedical Ethics Beauchamp and Childress (ref) frame decision making when the patient is incompetent as a problem of lost autonomy and the solutions they propose areShow MoreRelatedPrivacy And The Right Of Privacy1540 Words   |  7 PagesBy definition, privacy is the ability of an individual to seclude themselves or information about themselves from the individuals around them or the community they live in. Almost all countries have laws in place to protect an individual’s privacy because it is under the illusion as a fundamental human right. In this paper, I will argue laws that establish the use of contraceptives and the right to receive an abortion as a right of privacy have failed to work within society, but if the right to autonomyRead MoreEthical Nursing1709 Words   |  7 PagesThe aim of this essay is to discuss an ethical issue encountered whilst on placement. The discussion will focus on the influence of the key ethics theories of deontology and utilitarianism, ethics principles of autonomy, beneficence, non-maleficence and justice on decision-making in practice. It will consider the patients’ and staffs’ values and beliefs, legislation and professional practice. Confidentiality will be respected by using a pseudonym, Carol, in accordance with the Nursing and MidwiferyRead MoreThe Foundation And Provision Of Nursing1316 Words   |  6 Pageskey values of nursing and definitions of nursing. The American Association of Colleges of Nursing [AACN] (2008) highlights five values that represent the core of nursing pra ctice. These values include altruism, autonomy, human dignity, integrity, and social justice. This essay will focus on my top three values of altruism, human dignity, and autonomy, how these values are currently represented in my life, and how these values led to my own unique philosophy and definition of nursing. Altruism TheRead MoreThe Social Problem Of Dorothy Lee890 Words   |  4 Pagesaddresses the key social problems in American culture, in her literature piece Individual Autonomy and Social Structure. Lee identifies that in American culture, the definition of individual autonomy varies from other cultures; in American culture, autonomy is defined to be secluded from authority so one does not influence another being, whereas in other cultures their culture as a whole encourages individual autonomy with no influences. This is shown by an observation Marian Smith had of a Sikh family’sRead MoreEthics And Human Decision Making977 Words   |  4 Pagesquestion if something is ethical or not? This question is answered by the six principles of ethics, Respect for Autonomy, Nonmaleficence, Beneficence, Justice, Fidelity and Veracity. Following these six principles gives a more concrete definition on what being ethical means. The first of the six principles of ethics is Respect for Autonomy. What is exactly meant by respect for autonomy? Autonomy represents the capacity for human self determination and the ability for humans to make their own decisionsRead MoreNursing Theory in Professional Practice1287 Words   |  6 Pagesfamilies, groups and communities, sick or well and in all settings. Nursing includes the promotion of health, prevention of illness, and the care of ill, disabled, and dying people.† (International Council of Nurses, 2002). Virginia Henderson’s classic definition of nursing is, â€Å"I say that the nurse does for others what they would do for themselves if they had the strength, the will, and the knowledge. But I go on to say that the nurse makes the patient independent of him or her as soon as possible. (VirginiaRead MoreLearner Autonomy1084 Words   |  5 PagesWhat is Learner Autonomy and How Can It Be Fostered? Dimitrios Thanasoulas The Internet TESL Journal 2. What is Autonomy? For a definition of autonomy, we might quote Holec (1981: 3, cited in Benson Voller, 1997: 1) who describes it as the ability to take charge of ones learning. On a general note, the term autonomy has come to be used in at least five ways (see Benson Voller, 1997: 2): †¢ for situations in which learners study entirely on their own; †¢ for a set of skillsRead MoreHuman Experimentation1684 Words   |  7 PagesTOPIC #4: Human Experimentation PRO: Prisoners should be allowed to participate in human research CON: Prisoners should not be allowed to participate in human research History and definitions Dating back to 1965, seventy-five prisoners at Holmesburg prison in Pennsylvania were purposely exposed to a poisonous agent. This study was conducted to determine the effects of dioxin, a potentially harmful substance. Dermatologist Dr. Albert Kligman, exposed prisoners to a dosage 468 times greaterRead MoreAdvertising Prescription Drugs And The United States1021 Words   |  5 Pageswe can test weather an action is moral. Three formulations Kant gave for an action must have if it is to be a moral action are â€Å"(1) it must be amendable to being made consistently universal; (2) it must respect rational beings as ends in themselves; and (3) it must stem from, and respect autonomy of rational beings (DeGeorge).† In the case of DTC prescription drug ads Kant’s categorical imperative deontological approach depends on the intentions of the manufacturers. In the book Principles of HealthRead MoreEuthanasia And The Right Of Life And Euthanasia1558 Words   |  7 PagesTo speak of Right to Life and Euthanasia, first it should be defined by at least two notions: Euthanasia and the Right to Life, the first are definitions as those shown below: Some authors see that the concept or the notion of Euthanasia is too ambiguous, which can lead us to understand very different and even contradictory things. Let s refer to it: 1. A normed use: Death without physical suffering or which causes voluntarily Another use is the Factual painless death or death in a state