Exit 11, Issue 7

Exit 11

Exit 11

Writing Instructors’

Praise for Exit 11

“What I love about Exit 11 is that anytime I teach a specific writing move to my students, I can readily pull out an essay for demonstration. It is a reflection of the diverse topics taught in our FYWS, different ways a critical argument can be presented and the multiplicity of student voices. Working as a managing editor for more than five years, I greatly appreciate the editorial discussions and how it nurtured me as a teacher and a writer. Exit 11 displays the strong team work of the editors alongside the academic caliber of NYUAD students.”

SWETA KUMARI

“Returning to Exit 11 as a managing editor after three years reminded me why I founded this journal in the first place, to showcase and celebrate the teaching and learning of writing as a mode of expression and knowledge sharing by our Writing Program faculty, instructors and most importantly, the students. The variety of essay topics and writing styles in this double issue exhibit not only the wide range of topics covered in the First Year Writing Seminars each year but also the unique interests and expressions of our students. This publication is a labor of love and dedication of the editorial team to the teaching of writing and celebrating our students’ learning, regardless of the unprecedented challenges we faced in the past two years due to the pandemic and loss of our dear colleague and friend Ken Nielsen. This Issue is a tribute to him for his years of service in shaping the Writing Program where it is today.”

ASMA NOUREEN

“ Exit 11 serves as a testament to the amount of progress students are able to make in their writing within the span of one short semester. If I had to put it down to three words, I would say it is exciting witnessing the range of astute and innovative topics and approaches, inspiring watching the growth students are making, and rewarding to watch their hard work be recognised in the form of published essays.”

AIESHAH ARIF

“One of the qualities of a well written essay is ‘flow’ which aids comprehension even if the reader is only scanning. In technical terms, this means the essay has achieved cohesion which is an elusive quality even for weathered writers. Exit 11 essays portray this cohesion, connectedness of ideas, with great authority. The essays in the anthology are accessible models for teaching analytical frameworks and writing effective introductions. Using student essays as models makes the idea of writing an essay less daunting for a student in First Year Writing Seminars; the idea is: if my peers can achieve this level of excellence, so can I.”

NEELAM HANIF

“The essays within Exit 11 highlight what happens when you consider the audience of your essay to be beyond just your class professor. When we read an essay in this journal that piques our curiosity, we intuit the often difficult to grasp concept of ‘motive’. Simply put, a well motivated essay makes us want to read without explicitly telling us why we should keep reading. Therefore, my favourite essays in the journal are the ones that fluidly integrate motive and make me forget that I’m reading a class paper. Exit 11 also showcases how the different FYWS, regardless of the topic, hold the same core values, yet allow for flexibility in form, style, and approach.”

SAMIA MEZIANE

“As one of the most senior Writing Instructors, I’m proud to have witnessed Exit 11 grow from conception to publication and now into an entire volume of some of the most inspirational and telling writing from students across the disciplines at NYUAD. Many students begin their first year of university under the impression that their voices don’t matter – Exit 11 is proof that this is not true; not only do first-year students perform the same work as seasoned professors through research, but, through the book you hold in your hands, they are able to influence others who are not so far behind in the timeline of their own lives. I continue to be immensely proud of our students at NYUAD and the work they are able to produce through our unique program. I will leave you with a quote from a favorite animated film from my childhood, The Pagemaster: ‘And remember this, when in doubt, look to the books!’”

ZACHARY SHELLENBERGER

“For me, Exit 11 showcases the alchemy of writing, the magic that happens between the blank page and a finished, polished essay. Initial impressions, unformed thoughts and shadows of ideas become sophisticated opinions and revelatory insights that not even the writer knew they were capable of manifesting. Not only does it represent the breathtaking range of material covered across the First Year Writing Seminars, but it’s a fantastic resource for both instructors and students.”

RACHEL WOBUS

“The essays contained within Exit 11 always contain something of the magic that happens inside the classroom–the moments where students bring their whole selves to an assignment. As an instructor, having a resource like this one–where I can show my students exactly what I mean, and how others in their shoes have approached similar questions– is invaluable as we make the leap between knowing and doing the work of writing.”

JAMIE ZIPFEL

“The perspectives and the depth of understanding displayed within the pages of Exit 11 are a testament to the exceptional intellectual curiosity and scholarly rigor fostered within the academic environment of NYUAD. Exit 11 not only serves as a source of inspiration and admiration for fellow students in learning the art of expression but also provides a valuable resource for instructors seeking exemplary work to showcase to future students. As educators, we are constantly in search of outstanding examples of academic writing, and Exit 11 presents an exquisite collection that embodies the ideals of creativity, technical precision, well-researched scholarship, and profound intellectual inquiry that we hope to see more of from the writers of tomorrow.”

AMANDA LEONG

“One of the joys of teaching writing is seeing the techniques that you introduce in the classroom help bring alive a learner’s ideas on the page. It is also in how they develop, adapt or even discard these ideas as they grow as a writer. Exit 11 is a great testimony to the process of writing as embodied in the FYWS.”

DAVID ALLWAY

“Exit 11 showcases the incredible, diverse, and important work students produce in the span of one short semester, and represents in similar ways the value of guidance and support throughout the process, whether in the writing class or for the collection itself. Exit 11 is a testament to the writers whose craft has developed in critical and personal ways and to the FYWS that creates the curated space for this development. There is little that is more fulfilling for a writer than to see their work published, as they are able to put out what they have produced to an audience that may feel more real than the instructor and their peers, and inspire other writers through the creativity and ingenuity of their voices and thoughts.”

MARWA MEHIO

“Readers of Exit 11 will only get to see the final, polished versions of the essays. However, behind each essay there is a tremendous amount of thought and effort that goes into the process of creating it. Each one is a product of time spent reading and engaging with sources, thinking critically about when and how to enter the academic conversation, doing further research as needed to extend the conversation, and weaving these elements together into the draft versions. During the process of finalizing their essays, the authors have received feedback from peers, professors, and the editorial team, and decided how to incorporate that feedback into the final versions that you have before you. Each essay, then, is a testament to the writing process itself—sometimes messy and challenging, but also a powerful means of giving voice to the diverse interests and perspectives of the authors.”

YUSUF SAMARA

Exit 11: A Journal of the First Year Writing Seminars

Issue 07, 2022–2023

Executive Editor Marion Wrenn

Managing Editors Sweta Kumari & Marwa Mehio

Senior Editors

Haewon Yoon / Jamie Zipfel / Yusuf Samara

Associate Editors

David Allway / Hind Saddiki / Idil Barre / Neelam Hanif / Samia Ahmed / Samia Meziane / Zachary Shellenberger

Contributing Editors

Camilla Boisen / Jonathan Sharfman / Lee Gurdial Kaur Singh / Mitchell Atkinson III / Philip Rodenbough / Piia Mustamaki / Sabyn Javeri Jillani / Samuel Mark Anderson / Sohail Karmani / Soha Sarkis / Sun-Hee Bae

Photo Editor Sohail Karmani

Student Assistants Louise Simpson / Grace Shieh

Founding Editor Asma Noureen

Cover Photographer Batool Al Tameemi

Design Consultant Minbar.co

Printer Royal Printing Press LLC

A big thank you to Awam Ampka, Dean of Arts & Humanities, for his enduring support of the Writing Program. We also wish to thank Erich E. Dietrich, Vice Provost of Undergraduate Education, and Lolowa Al Marzooqi, Assistant Vice Provost of Undergraduate Education, for their unparalleled support of The Center for Writing. The digital conversion of Exit 11 was deftly overseen by Cyrus Patell, Global Network Professor of Literature and Professor of English, to whom we send our thanks. Our gratitude also goes to Nisrin Abdulkhadir, Administrative Assistant, who has supported this publication in various ways. And a special thank you to all our readers and writers.

Table of Contents

COVER PHOTOGRAPH: Old Dubai

– Batool Al Tameemi

13 Introduction – Marion Wrenn

PHOTOGRAPH: Reflections of Expression

– Abdelrahman Mallasi

Essay 1

20 An Analysis of Wake: Challenging How We Think and Write about History

– Alejandra Pérez Aguilar

26 Outside In - The Intricacy of Creating Dance

– Ruxandra Burian

32 The Subjectivity of Sentiments: A Critical Analysis of Rorty’s Sentimental Education – Udgam Bhattarai

PHOTOGRAPH: Food Distribution in Jangisar

– Sultan Farooq

Essay 2

42 Are We Living through a “Big Data” Scientific Revolution Today? – Aleksandar Boljević

48 The Representation of Female Sexuality in 20th Century Women (2016) Directed by Mike Mills – Anastasiia-Lei Yang

56 A People in Crisis: The Occupation of Three Emirati Islands – Arwa Alabbasi

PHOTOGRAPH: Across the Sands – Muhammed Hazza Amir Ali

64 Clash of Modernity and Non-European Culture: Quest for Chagos Islands’ Return – Danial Zhanbyrshy

71 Racism Beyond Western Discourses: An Analysis of Tunisian President Kais Saied’s Speech – Fatma Ramadhan Alahmadi

80 NATO Bombing of Yugoslavia: The Misleading Focus on the Means of Intervention – Mukhamed Sagyntaiuly

PHOTOGRAPH: Un-gentrified – Miriam Delgado

88 American Dream – Samira Aldybergenova

93 How Many Englishes?: Criteria for Demarking Variances in the English Context – Samuel Legissa

99 The Silencing of Women’s Struggles: A Feminist Analysis of the Movie Everything, Everywhere, All at Once – Tao Ziyue

PHOTOGRAPH: Heritage and Hope – Yana Holovatska

Essay 3

110 The Pressure that Forms the Pearl: Examining the Powerful Narratives in Post-conflict Sri Lanka – Andrew Surendran

120 The Russia-Ukraine War: The Final Death Blow to the Concept of Genocide? – Julia Oleszynska

PHOTOGRAPH: The Young Healer – Mariam Almagboul

134 Pakistan’s Power Dynamics and the Proliferation of Violence: A Case Study of Blasphemy Laws

– Manahil Faisal

144 Change in the Definition of Masculinities in the Korean Pop Industry as Seen Through BTS’s “Boy in Luv (sangnamja)” (2014) and “Black Swan” (2020)

– Suhana Shamshudin Kassam

155 The Moral Proportionality of Jus Post Bellum and How it perpetuates Bystandership – Udgam Bhattarai

PHOTOGRAPH: Stop! A Glimpse of Hamdan Street

– Aryam Alhosani

169 Notable Submissions 2022–2023

Introduction

There is a classic myth in the western tradition that has the G reek goddess Athena springing fully formed from the head of her father, Zeus , king of the gods.

Goddess of wisdom and war, she leaps into the world without the strife of birth, or those messy, awkward teenage years; instead she arrives mighty from the start.

The story of Athena’s birth has always struck me as an apt analogy for the misbelief that some aspiring writers possess: the conviction that polished, perfect prose springs fully formed from the fingertips of “good writers,” as if the first draft is their best draft, all of it effortless. That belief leads some of us to nurture a sense of envy, and also a mighty case of imposter syndrome.

Full confession: I’ve always had a sneaking hunch that everyone else has an easier time at writing than I do, a belief that they possess an ability to produce perfect prose as if it leapt, like the goddess, straight from their fingers onto the page– no muss, no fuss, no false starts, no blank stare at a blank page. Deep down I have a hunch that everyone else has a little bit of Athena in their foreheads, their prose appearing fully formed and figured out the moment they start to write.

On one hand that story some of us tell ourselves is not only exhausting, it’s intensifying as AI and generative predictive technologies become part of our media environment. As the ads for ChatGPT, Gemini, and others promise: writing can be quick and easy and error free. These contemporary promises used to sell the latest technologies tap into a much older set of dispositions about writing. Should it be slow and steady, driven by a will to get the right word in the right order and the rhythm of paragraph right before you let anyone read it? Or should it be fleet and fast and driven by speed? The Italian novelist Italo Calvino confessed to this pickle in his last book: “I am a Saturn who dreams of being a Mercury, and everything I write reflects these two

impulses.” Calvino draws on Greek and Roman mythology to account for how he feels about his writing process: he is a slow worker who dreams of brash speed. That tension is at the heart of writing; and if we trust that writing is a creative act, then we can see that making an argument requires steps and stages, tinkering and trying. Fast or slow, writing is, crucially, a process.

But the myth of Athena’s creation reminds me of the function of all myths: such stories often use the visible to explain the invisible. In other words, I’ve been using the myth of Athena’s birth to name something about the writing process to explain what is largely mysterious and often happens out of sight: all great writing, as many great writers attest, including Anne Lamott in her famous essay “Shitty First Drafts,” comes from trial and error, attempt and failure and feedback, followed by another attempt. The real magic is in the resilience of revision, the space where a writer becomes aware of her instinct, or the sound of her voice as a thinker, and then hones that instinct into her craft.

That sense of self-possession– thinking of ourselves as working writers, as people thinking through the evidence we’ve gathered in order to make sense of what we see or want to say– results in prose that moves a reader to pay attention, to be transported into the urgencies of an essay, and to want to, blue skies, write an essay in response.

The image of Athena leaping from Zeus’ forehead is now more resonant than ever before, and perhaps transcends my own personal conviction that writing is easier for everyone else but yours truly. Generative predictive technology and the artificial intelligence-soaked atmosphere in which we think and write helps burnish the myth that all writing comes easy, or that a machine can read a text sufficiently on our behalf, hiding the mess of a human being engaging with a text, taking notes, annotating the page in order to figure out what another author means to say.

True these tools amplify the seeming speed with which good writing gets crafted. But I’m afraid they also amplify the imposter syndrome that folks feel when they are learning to see writing not only as a means of communication but as a form of organized curiosity or crafted thinking and, crucially, learning to listen to the rhythm of their own minds in the

act of creating an argument or developing an idea. Craft is a tricky word, suggesting the image of the writer as an artist, thoughtful creator, who moves from a hunch about how the right words should flow in the right order to making choices so that a reader can follow the arc of her mind’s work on the page.

Such choices also always belong to a writer making an argument, staging an essay, working across multiple drafts in order to convey ideas to an imagined audience. And all of that work looks like a big squirrely mess until it moves toward a sensible whole aimed at a reader via the writer’s ongoing process.

But all of that mess is basically invisible in this anthology! None of these essays sprang fully formed from the gorgeous minds of their authors. They are instead the result of a process-based pedagogy that led them through a series of low-stakes exercises that helped them figure out their ideas by seeing what they had to say. As you read them, look for the human presence of mind on the page, what Aristotle called ethos, the author’s disposition and decision making that yielded the essay in front of you. Ethos is an ancient concept, and it endures in this era of technological innovation as the ways in which an author establishes trust with the reader, citing sources ethically and well, and using technological resources to amplify their thinking rather than to replace it.

All of that to say that perhaps we do all possess a little bit of the goddess of wisdom in our foreheads ready to spring. But maybe we need to tell the story of her creation a little sideways. Perhaps we can shed light on the way messy essay drafts signal her arrival. Consider that an invitation to read the essays included in this volume for the choices their authors made to craft and convey their ideas. Also consider it an invitation to develop your own story for your writing process. What is the story you tell yourself about “good writing”? Where does it come from? What myths do you hold? How might rethinking the stories you tell yourself about yourself as a thinker and a writer help you imagine your journey as a scholar here at NYUAD, your new intellectual home.

MARION WRENN EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR OF WRITING, ARTS & HUMANITIES, NYUAD

At the BRED Abu Dhabi festival, where culture and creativity converge, a model becomes a canvas against a vibrant backdrop of red, reflecting the festival’s spirit through bold fashion and poised gestures. This photograph, a testament to the power of art as a universal language, captures a moment of silent dialogue between the artist and muse. Through the lens, style transcends mere apparel to express identity and defiance, embodying the festival’s celebration of neo-culture from music to lifestyle. Here, individuality shines within the collective, illustrating how fashion, like art, communicates profound narratives of self-expression and belonging in a world rich with diversity.

“Reflections of Expression” by Abdelrahman Mallasi

Essay 1

An Analysis of Wake: Challenging How We Think and Write about History

ALEJANDRA PÉREZ AGUILAR

In WAKE: The Hidden Stories of Women-Led Slave Revolts, Rebecca Hall argues that the stories of resistance of African and African American slaves have been silenced throughout history, disempowering Black Americans today.1 The graphic novel follows Hall as she uncovers and rewrites the hidden stories of female-led slave revolts in the eighteenth century, to shed light on the history of slave resistance and challenge traditional narratives that downplay women’s role in it. Hall exposes how, living in the wake of slavery, she is haunted by the trauma of the past and the present legacy of slavery as she highlights the need for Black Americans to take pride in the history of resilience of their ancestors to draw on their strength and power to fight for the change they need in the present.2 While Hall challenges the historiography of slavery by confronting white-male centric trends, illustrating the intersection between the political and the personal, and calling out the factual inaccuracy of dominant narratives, she unintentionally reinforces the binary framework trend that perpetuates assumptions related to race and rank.

Putting enslaved women at the center of her narrative of resistance, Hall’s work challenges the white-male centric trend in the historiography of opposition to slavery. Dominant narratives have often focused on the role of the abolitionist movement in ending the institution, and consequently on the role of white abolitionist men that participated in the political movement. Even sources, such as the documentary Racism: A History, 3 that aim to deconstruct and criticize White-centric narratives fail to reverse this

1 Rebecca Hall and Hugo Martínez. Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts. (New York: Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 2022)

2 Hall and Martinez. Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts. 211

3 Paul Tickell, Racism: A History. (United Kingdom: BBC, 2007)

trend. The documentary does bring light to black political figures of the abolitionist movement, such as Olaudah Equiano,4 who were long neglected by history. Despite this, by continuing to focus on the high-level politics of the abolitionist movement, which were generally inaccessible to black people, particularly women, it ignores the ground-level role of slave revolts in fueling this movement. Indeed, the high monetary cost associated with revolts was a key factor in destabilizing the economy of slavery and bringing about abolition. In light of this, Hall highlights how “this type of resistance was so expensive and time consuming for slavers that [...] it prevented at least a million more people from [...] entering slave trade” and emphasizes the essential role women in these revolts. 5 Here, Hall is also moving away from the restrictive definition of “success” offered by the dominant historiography of slavery that has often describing the Haitian Revolution as history’s only successful slave revolt. 6 She does this by shedding light on the magnitude of the cumulative impact of seemingly unsuccessful and localized revolts in bringing about significant change. Therefore, redirecting the focus of the narrative of opposition to slavery from white abolitionist politics to ground-level slave revolts and recognising the cumulative success of such revolts, Hall reclaims and acknowledges the agency of enslaved people in ending the institution of slavery. This has the potential to evoke the Black American heritage as a source of empowerment to continue to fight for change.

Hall challenges the division between the public and the private spheres imposed in dominant historiography and presents an intersection between the political and the personal. In the introduction to her book Invisible Women, Caroline Criado emphasizes how the division of the private and the public sphere, is arbitrary since they both bleed onto each other.7 The private and public spheres here refer to the separation between what is considered private – the personal and family identities, activities and spaces

4 Tickell. Racism: A History. Episode 1, min. 49

5 Hall and Martinez. Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts. 149

6 Michel-Rolph Trouillot, “Unthinking a Chimera,” in Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2015), 72-83

7 Caroline Criado-Perez, “Introduction: the Default Male,” in Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed for Men (New York, New York: Abrams Press, 2021), 18

– and public – broader societal and political realm. This division results in the separation of the political and the personal, which Hall confronts by asserting how, for her, the personal is political. Indeed, she presents her research as one with significant historical and political claims, but also as a deeply personal journey of reconciliation and empowerment with her heritage. Researching the 1712 New York slave revolt, Hall finds judicial records stating that one of the four women involved in the revolt testified but her testimony was not recorded8. In light of this Hall explains how “this is one way in which history erases us”, because “if who we are and what we care about are deemed irrelevant, it won’t be there”.9 Here Hall highlights how the beliefs of a society influence whose voices are deemed valuable and whose are excluded and oppressed, including her voice and that of her ancestors. Thus, reclaiming the voices of the enslaved women and recognizing their power and resistance, Hall also reclaims her voice and her place in the narrative. In other words, rewriting silenced accounts empowers historically silenced groups and encourages them to reclaim their place in the narrative on a political and personal dimension.

One should be cautious however to read Hall’s claims in a simply ideological and political dimension. Instead, going against the dominant trends in the historiography of slavery to amplify alternative narratives, Hall reexamines the biases in knowledge production and offers a more factually accurate narrative. On this topic, Criado argues that the manner in which society produces knowledge is incomplete by “a failure to account for half of humanity” (referring to females).10 She then highlights how the myth of male universality – whereby the reality of (white) males is disguised as universal and objective – affects how knowledge and data is collected, read and interpreted, thus leading to the factual inaccuracy of such knowledge.11 In light of this, Hall explicitly calls out the gender biased historiography of slavery and confronts it by thinking beyond male universality to draw

8 Hall and Martinez. Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts. 33

9 Hall and Martinez. Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts. 33

10 Caroline Criado-Perez, “Introduction: the Default Male,” in Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed for Men (New York, New York: Abrams Press, 2021), 18

11 Criado-Perez. Introduction: The Default Male. 20

new historical conclusions. Indeed, Hall reveals how slave revolts were more likely to occur in ships with a larger portion of women onboard, but “historians dismissed this as some kind of statistical fluke”. 12 Then she denounces that “the intuition of historians of slavery was distorted by their beliefs about women”, and “laying aside gendered assumptions” she was able to provide a comprehensive analysis of the reasons behind this data.13

Stressing how gender biases prevent the production of accurate historical knowledge, is essential in recognizing the subjectivity and incompleteness of historical knowledge. Thus, not only does Hall’s narrative challenge the historiography of slavery in its political and ideological dimensions, but also in its methodological failures and factual inaccuracies.

Even so, Rebecca Hall perpetuates assumptions related to race and rank by conforming to the rigid binary framework prevalent in the historiography of slavery that associates white to freedom and black to slavery. In Wake, Rebecca Hall presents black and white people in a sharp dichotomy that equates white to slaver or perpetrator of violence and black with slave or victim of such violence in both the past and present. Indeed, in the illustrations of historical accounts white people appear as commanding officers and slavers, and in the present they continue to be presented as antagonistic characters with a superior rank. An example of the latter are the officers Hall encounters in the Courthouse who prevent her from accessing important historical records.14 While this dichotomy is effective in showcasing the dominant trend in the eighteenth century and how it penetrates today’s society, it oversimplifies the logic behind slavery and rank. More importantly, conforming to this dichotomy Hall fails to challenge the binary framework in the dominant historiography of slavery.

Such a framework preserves the ideas of racial division created in the eighteenth century and perpetuates assumptions related to rank and race. On this topic, Nell Painter argues that while “American tradition equates whiteness with freedom while consigning blackness to slavery”, the reality

12 Hall and Martinez. Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts. 149

13 Hall and Martinez. Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts. 150

14 Hall and Martinez. Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts. 98

and history of slavery is much more complicated.15 Giving an overview of the history of white slavery16 Painter presents race as one among the several justifications for slavery constructed by elites in the course of history, rather than as an intrinsic determinant of the value and status of a person. This is relevant since historiography has disproportionately focused on the racialization of slavery – manifested through the aforementioned binary framework – which sustains ideas of white superiority, including the assumption that freedom lies at the core of whiteness.17 Thus, it is essential to confront this binary historiography to unpack the assumptions that it perpetuates, including that of the white powerful and black powerless logic. This is especially relevant in the context of Wake since one of its central premises highlights how our understanding of the past affects how we think about the present and the future. Thus, adhering to the historiographical racialization of slavery by conforming to its binary logic, Hall perpetuates racial justifications of rank and misses the opportunity to deconstruct the assumptions it underpins.

This essay has shown how, in Wake, Rebecca Hall challenges some of the dominant trends in historiography that have prevented a comprehensive and nuanced analysis of the history of slavery. Particularly, attempting to redefine African American heritage as a source of resilience and empowerment, Hall reveals the key role of slave revolts in eventually bringing an end to slavery, confronts the separation of the personal and the political, and challenges knowledge biases in the historiography of slavery that produce factual inaccuracies. The binary logic she employs between black slave and white slaver leads her to perpetuate assumptions related to race and rank. Even so, Hall’s writing stands out due to her effort to reexamine and rethink the ways in which history is written and its effect on how we think about the present.

15 Nell Irvin Painter, “Introduction.” in The History of White People. (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2010), ix-xii

16 Nell Irvin Painter, “White Slavery.” in The History of White People. (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2010), 34–42

17 Painter. White Slavery. 34

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Criado-Perez, Caroline. “Introduction: The Default Male.” In Invisible Women: Data Bias in a World Designed for Men, 11–20. New York, New York: Abrams Press, 2021.

Hall, Rebecca, and Martínez Hugo. Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts. New York: Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, 2022.

Painter, Nell Irvin. “White Slavery.” In The History of White People, 34–42. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2010.

Tickell, Paul. Racism: A History. United Kingdom: BBC, 2007

Trouillot, Michel-Rolph. “Unthinking a Chimera.” Essay. In Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History, 72–83. Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2015.

Outside In - The Intricacy of Creating Dance

RUXANDRA BURIAN

Rolling around in a sea of clouds, Sue Smith creates the illusion of a dream. While she performs soft moves, the blue background provides a calming environment.1 This is one of the many scenes found in the colorful dance film Outside In, with choreography by Victoria Marks. It features dancers from CandoCo Dance Company, an inclusive dance company from the UK. The film features six disabled and non-disabled dancers that come together to create an award winning film about dance, published in 1995 in England. Although Christopher Dunkley states his firm opinion that this film has as its main point the collaboration between disabled and non-disabled dancers,2 I do not share the same opinion. I argue that Outside In pulls back the curtain on the artistic process: inspiration, practice, improvisation, and the performance of a complete and well-practiced show. In contrast with Dunkley’s views, I consider that the dance film shows how disability is not relevant to the creative process, dance being an art form available to all people.

As Ann Cooper Albright states in “Strategic Abilities: Negotiating the Disabled Body in Dance,” disabled people have the capacity to create dance in a unique manner.3 Albright talks about the difficulties non-conventional dancers face, as the world has a very specific image of what a dancer should look like.4 After struggling with disability for a while, Albright realized that she should use her disability to her advantage. Everything different about her makes her special and makes her performances stand out. Therefore, she creates the term

1 Victoria Marks, Outside In, directed by Margaret Williams, London: Arts Council England, 1995. Streaming on Alexander Street Press, 8:39-9:35.

2 Christopher Dunkley, “Arts: Dance with a Difference: Television,” Financial Times, July 29, 1995.

3 Ann Cooper Albright, “Strategic Abilities: Negotiating the Disabled Body in Dance,” in Moving History/Dancing Cultures: A Dance History Reader, ed. Ann Dils and Ann Cooper Albright (Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 2001), http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/ nyulibrary-ebooks/detail.action?docID=1562508, 65.

4 Albright, “Strategic Abilities,” 61.

“strategic abilities” which emphasizes exactly this idea of finding possibilities within disability. It is important for people to not feel restricted by their bodies but rather to find what their limitations can provide. Disabilities should be seen as opportunities rather than confinements and they do not limit dancers’ participation in the creative process. Outside In demonstrates how abled and disabled people come together to create art in the form of dance. Disability does not represent a constraint in this process, but rather an opportunity to create something unique, demonstrating how strategic abilities facilitate a role in the process of creating dance.

The film begins by revealing the first step of the creative process: inspiration, which represents a crucial part in any artistic process, regardless of the disabilities of the artist . The opening scene is particularly suggestive as it introduces the cast and how they connect to create a performance. The scene presents the dancers passing something invisible from one to another. This invisible entity can be perceived as the “inspiration” to create and perform a dance. They are either blowing, inhaling, kissing, or sneezing to transmit it. The movements are not very dynamic, as all the performers are sitting down or lying on each other. However, their faces are highly expressive, and their body language shows their thirst for the “inspiration.” At the very end, Sue Smith blows the “inspiration” for the last time, across the room and the performance begins.5 One thing that does not stand out in this scene is the fact that half of the cast is disabled, proving that anybody can participate in the creative process. Adam Benjamin considers that disability actually encourages the creative process and gives a new meaning to dance. He states that being physically different should not be an impediment when it comes to dancing.6 The scene, although hard to comprehend in the beginning, means to dissipate the preconceptions that exist regarding performers. Anyone can be inspired to create and therefore disability must not be taken into consideration. It is clear to me that this film does not want to have as its main focus the disabled dancers. Therefore, the performers, abled and disabled, come together to find inspiration and pursue the creative process together.

5 Marks, Outside In, 0:35-2:25.

6 Adam Benjamin, “Cabbages and Kings: Disability, Dance and Some Timely Considerations,” in The Routledge Dance Studies Reader, ed. by Alexandra Carter and Janet O’Shea (London: Routledge, 2010), 111.

The following part of the artistic process illustrated in the dance film is the importance of putting time and effort into practicing, a process to which both disabled and abled dancers participate. The scenes that follow the first one show how the dancers begin to train and put together choreographies. The most impactful is the scene where David Toole, a dancer without legs, attempts to learn a dance pattern based on footprints drawn on the floor. The scene, although confusing at first, is intriguing as it feels somewhat contradictory. In the beginning, Toole shows some reluctance as he looks hesitantly at the pattern on the ground. However, he proceeds to place his palms over the prints. Firstly, he takes dainty steps, his rhythm being slow. As he gains confidence, he wipes his palm over his chest and proceeds with the dance. His moves become more energetic, as he starts jumping from one footprint to another and increasing the tempo.7 This scene shows the process that the dancer needs to go through to learn a choreography. It begins with small steps and a lot of practice. Toole’s determination to learn shows results towards the end as he uses his arms to follow the footsteps. This scene displays how outstanding his moves are and how, by having a disability, Toole creates a whole new and unique series of moves. He interprets the footprints in his own way, proving that his strategic abilities help him create something different than what is expected. The whole scene shows how practice is an important part of the final product, as it is the most extensive one.

As the process continues, both abled and disabled dancers must contribute to the creative process with new ideas and moves that can be found through improvisation. In this sense, the performers start what seems an improvised series of moves in order to find the best ones. Representative for this process is the scene where all the dancers come in and out of the stage in dynamic movements and dance two by two at a very fast pace. The scene begins with Toole rolling in with Sue Smith. They perform a series of energetic moves, such as throwing themselves on the ground, jumping and spinning. Then, Smith leaves and Celest Dandeker appears. Every two performers dance together for a few seconds, after which one disappears, and another one comes in. It seems as if there is no fixed choreography because there are not any synchronized moves. They are moving freely and on numerous occasions

7 Marks, Outside In, 3:08-3:49.

seem surprised by the appearance of the next dancer. At one point, Toole comes rolling in his chair and takes Helen Baggett by surprise; she falls onto his chair and he carries her away8. Their movements seem created on the spot as the dancers spin, raise their hands, run, and embrace each other. In this scene, the dancers’ energy can be seen as they proceed to find new ideas to include in their choreography. The whole moment is unique as there is a lot of interaction between the disabled and non-disabled dancers. The performers in wheelchairs are rolling in and out, creating the element of surprise. They are using their smooth moves to help the improvisation, their strategic abilities being an asset to find new innovative dance steps. Improvisation is a big part of the creative process; it challenges the dancers to expand their limits and search further within their abilities.

The process of creation would be incomplete without the final product, a performance where abled and disabled dancers come together to showcase a finalized and well-rehearsed choreography. For that reason, towards the end of the film the dancers show the choreography. The set changes, as the performers are seen through the fog and flashing lights. They are holding rectangular mirrors to create a more impressive show. The dancers present a very organized and synchronized performance.9 Movements repeat from earlier scenes, suggesting that before it was just a rehearsal. One such move is the one in the duet between Toole and Kuldip Singh-Barmi when they both stand on one hand and extend the other one straight up.10 The same move can be seen in the final choreography done by Toole and Baggett.11 Another repeating theme is the kiss that has reoccurred throughout the film from the first scene. The dancers perform unison jumps and head movements12, indicating the effort they put into rehearsing the piece. The scene represents the final step of the creation. Although Dunkley appreciates the artistry of the film, he believes that the piece showcases the relation between disabled

8 Marks, Outside In, 6:35-7:43.

9 Marks, Outside In, 11:17-13:07.

10 Marks, Outside In, 7:50-8:31.

11 Marks, Outside In, 11:49-11:54.

12 Marks, Outside In, 12:13-12:39.

and non-disabled dancers in a humorous manner.13 While the creativity of the film cannot be denied, in this scene the dancers show the passion with which they perform. The most important aspect of including both abled and disabled dancers in this piece is to put together all their skills to create a colorful final product. The performance is customed for these particular dancers, proving that their strategic abilities are irreplaceable. This scene shows through the repeating moves that every step of the creative process is important in order to put together a complete, well-rehearsed show.

Although the final product is usually the only part that the audience sees, Outside In reveals how everything from inspiration to the full performance represents a relevant part in the artistic process. Disabled dancers are included to prove that the creative process has no boundaries and that everybody can be an active participant in it. As Albright states, disability is a trait that can be exploited to create distinctive dance moves.14 Every disabled dancer has strategic abilities that influence the choreography, as the moves created by them and for them cannot be replicated by anyone else. Therefore, every step of the creation is influenced by these dancers, even though, in my opinion, the film does not have as its main focus disability. As I strongly agree with Albright’s visions, I believe that CandoCo is a company that has a further understanding of the distinctive abilities that disabled dancers possess. Outside In is a film that discloses to the audience every part of the intricate process of creating dance, by making use of the uniqueness provided by the disabled dancers.

13 Dunkley, “Arts: Dance with a Difference: Television.”

14 Albright, “Strategic Abilities,” 65.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Albright, Ann Cooper. “Strategic Abilities: Negotiating the Disabled Body in Dance.” In Moving History/Dancing Cultures: A Dance History Reader, edited by Ann Dils and Ann Cooper Albright, 56–66. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 2001.

ProQuest Ebook Central, http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/nyulibrary-ebooks/detail. action?docID=1562508

Benjamin, Adam. “Cabbages and Kings: Disability, Dance and Some Timely Considerations.” In The Routledge Dance Studies Reader, edited by Alexandra Carter and Janet O’Shea, 111–21. 2nd ed. London: Routledge, 2010.

Dunkley, Christopher. “Arts: Dance with a Difference: Television.” Financial Times, July 29, 1995. Factiva.

Marks, Victoria, chor. Outside In, directed by Margaret Williams. London: Arts Council England, 1995. Streaming on Alexander Street Press. 14 minutes.

The Subjectivity of Sentiments: A Critical Analysis of Rorty’s

Sentimental Education

UDGAM BHATTARAI

When Russia first invaded Ukraine on February 24, 2022, the entire international community was shocked and terrified at this act of war. It warranted a very passionate response from people all across the world – within days, people poured onto the streets with slogans into protests, bombarded internet platforms with petitions, and even lobbied with NGOs and INGOs in dealing with the impending humanitarian crisis. People from all across the world, and all different cultures and backgrounds, became united in showing compassion to the horrors of Ukraine, not because of any legal or social obligations, but because they were moved by the love and sympathy they felt. The feelings invoked by the invasion, however, were anything but uniform–the Russians feel very differently about the invasion than the rest of the world, courtesy of the carefully constructed narrative that the government has medicated onto these people over the years.

Such is the power of emotions in driving people towards actions and judgements. In defining the status quo not in terms of rationale but rather the sentimentality that it invokes, emotions help us comprehend and connect with the status quo on a more personal level and act accordingly. In “Human Rights, Rationality and Sentimentality,” Rorty acknowledges this prevalence and significance of sentimentality and identifies the need for a global “Human Rights Culture,” built on the grounds of compassion and empathy (1998: 170). To that end, this idea of “sentimental education” focuses on invoking and accentuating our shared compassion and empathy through sad and sentimental stories so that people can identify as equal stakeholders in the shared moral community (Rorty 1998: 171) and are able to derive their own judgments from feelings of trust and security in the community and act on them (Rorty 1998: 180). But can the people be held accountable for a

differential in their “inherent” feelings? Does this make their emotions and moral judgements any less valid?

In Frames of War, Butler establishes that our understanding of the world is often contingent on the frames in relation to which both we and the world around us exist. She defines framing as the delimitation of context that determines what we can see and what remains concealed (Butler 2009: 8) and framing as a constant process of breaking and reforming said frames to redefine the interpretation according to the premises it lands in (Butler 2009: 10). Thus, by virtue of these definitions, Butler establishes that the constructs that govern our understanding and interpretations of the world around us are inherently very permissible and arbitrary as they change and reform to accommodate the new premises that they land in (2009: 9).

Sentimentality and by relation, sentimentalism and emotions, are largely reliant on said frames for their propagation and interpretation, making them equally as vulnerable to subjectivity as the process itself, such that humans (like the Russians) cannot be held accountable for feeling or acting differently than the rest of the world because it is not their personal prerogative but rather a consequence of the concept of sentiments. By acknowledging this selectivism and dynamism of frames and by relation, emotions and sentiments, this essay establishes that Rorty’s sentimental education is more susceptible to subversion and thematization than it was initially believed to be.

According to Rorty, today’s world is characterized by a glaring inability of people to humanize others outside of their socio-cultural circles. Instead, they resort to normative principles to validate their notions of “supremacy” and “dominance” (1998: 168). He attributes this disparity in human recognition to the foundationalist definition of humans as a direct product of their rationality (Rorty 1998: 171), because “rationality” is governed by distinct socio-cultural norms unique to each community (1998: 170) and the reliance on them only perpetuates said non-uniformity. In response, Rorty establishes that our “ability to feel” makes us human more than our rationality does (1998: 176). To that end, he seeks to provide a common grounding for people to identify with, primarily through sad and sentimental stories such that

people can equate each other not with rationality but with how they feel and the very fact that they can feel at all (Rorty 1998: 176). When people can acknowledge themselves as equal stakeholders in a shared moral community, Rorty believes that they will be driven to act not because it is the rational thing to do but because they reciprocate the feelings of trust and security that the community has nurtured in them (1998: 180).

Butler, on the other hand, attributes this disparity of recognition and relativism to the frames that constrain life and the narratives surrounding it. Butler denotes that the very acknowledgement of a frame is a direct concession of the existence of more factors outside of the frame (2009: 9).

Since frames and narratives are constantly broken down and reformed to reestablish the context, the interpretation also changes and adapts to the premises it lands in (Butler 2009: 10). This leads to a lot of subjectivity and arbitrariness in the narrative because more often than not the frameworks are defined by pre-established socio-cultural notions such that “what is taken for granted in one instant can be thematized critically in other instances” and vice versa (Butler 2009: 10). To that end, Butler also explicates the difficulty in quantifying human life due to the interdependence between the precarity of life and the social frameworks that nurture it (2009: 22).

With these social structures shifting and changing to adapt to the sociopolitical discourse in the world (Butler 2009: 24), the only way to properly define precarity, the inevitable part of human nature derived from the fact that all lives are vulnerable to the possibility of injury and destruction, is to embrace its dynamism (Butler 2009: 22). Hence, these social structures are just as reliant on the precarity of life as it is on them such that the precarity of each life is equally liable in shifting and reconstructing these constructs which directly restructures the precarity of all lives. Thus, through the recognition of this relationship between frames and interpretations, and precarity and social structures, Butler establishes that people can be incited to moral judgements vested not just in the communitarian benefit but also their self-interest (2009: 23).

Rorty and Butler both discuss differential recognition, cultural relativism, and the framing of humanity. But Rorty’s absolutist approach of sentimental

education is at odds with Butler’s critical theory of social ontology because: one, it has an over-reliance on frames and predetermined settings and two, its attempts at defining humanity in finitude is flawed.

Firstly, Rorty’s sentimental education is substantively based on the assumption that sad and sentimental stories are an effective and just means of propagating emotions and feelings across the moral community. These stories, however, inherently require frames to contextualize their material and instantiate it. So, when these stories are reproduced and land in different premises to evoke feelings and sentiments, such frames, by the virtue of their definition, also break and reform to adapt to the circumstances that they land in. They also tend to deviate from their intended context because of their reproducibility, i.e., when reproduced, they diverge from their original purpose and circumstances and warrant appropriate shifts and adjustments. Thus, in progressing sentiments, these stories also further progress the interpretive disparity in the world.

Secondly, the core of Rorty’s proposal that defines people by their ability to feel is flawed. Despite sounding “natural”, intuitive, and persuasive, defining humanity in finitude in any term whatsoever is problematic. But Rorty believes that in grounding “humanity” through feelings so that all people can equally share a moral community, sentimental education can dismantle the normativity of foundationalism, i.e., the grounding of understanding and interpretation in a foundation of pre-established knowledge and information. As an attribute of the precarity of life, sentiments are also largely influenced by socio-cultural structures so even feelings of sympathy and compassion (which Rorty establishes as innate and unwavering) are more often than not governed by what is socially and culturally acceptable as worthy of grief and pity. Rorty’s minimalist “humanity” thus fails to account not only for the fact that the “ability to feel” is subjected to societal frames, but also that socio-political discourse keeps shifting said limitations so “what makes us human” can never be a definite yardstick but a dynamic product of the social constructs that make it livable. It is thus impossible to standardize a global culture for what is essential to human rights globally.

This over-reliance on frames in terms of both propagation of sentiments and

the definition of humanity makes the sentimentality doctrine permissive and vulnerable and opens avenues for condescension and manipulation through the subjugation of its foundations. Thus, the altering and manipulation of the socio-cultural frames that give sentiments shape and meaning could fundamentally alter the type and gravity of sentiments shared by the people and by relation, sentimental education. Likewise, with said frames constantly reforming to accommodate the socio-cultural preconditions of where they land, and the emotions and sentiments they evoke equally susceptible to this subversion, sentimentalism only perpetuates cultural relativism and has barely any net effect on internalized separatism. Hence, sentimentalism, by virtue of its relativity and permissibility, sustains and progresses the very perils of foundationalism that Rorty claims it should have dismantled.

In conclusion, emotions can be a very powerful impetus when it comes to driving people to action such that Rorty’s sentimental education is an admirable mechanism for propagating ideas about the grievability of life and helping people identify their shared precariousness. By attributing the entire basis of moral judgements to sentiments, however, it perpetuates the very relativism and arbitrariness that it was meant to deconstruct. Thus, there arises a need to ground such sentiments with respect to other constructs and frames (if only the Russians could substantiate their feelings and acts with respect to the lives they risked) so that they can change and adapt with the status quo and people can better contextualize their feelings and make apt moral judgements.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Butler, Judith (2009), Frames of War - When is Life Grievable (NY: Verso).

Rorty, Richard (1998), ‘Human Rights, Rationality, and Sentimentality’, in Truth and Progress: Philosophical Papers, Vol. 3 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), pp. 167-185.

Jangisar is a village that subsists on agriculture in Thatta, Pakistan. Poverty is prevalent in the Thatta region, and several foundations regularly conduct humanitarian aid initiatives to improve the quality of life in the area. This photograph was taken at a Ramadan food distribution initiative in 2023, where locals gathered to receive aid packages filled with rice, bread, and meats; these packages aimed to feed a household throughout the entire month of Ramadan. The men in the photograph were among the group of individuals who walked from distant villages to receive aid packages.

“Food Distribution in Jangisar” by Sultan

Farooq

Essay 2

Are We Living Through a “Big Data” Scientific Revolution Today?

ALEKSANDAR BOLJEVIĆ

“Science is much more than a body of knowledge,” claimed Carl Sagan, “It is a way of thinking”. This definition is further supported by George Orwell’s claim that science is “a method of thought which obtains verifiable results by reasoning logically from observed fact”. Unfortunately, the general public usually fails to recognize this dimension of science. Instead, it tends to focus on what Orwell referred to as hard sciences, such as physics, chemistry, and biology. If the definitions proposed by Sagan and Orwell are ignored, science will get reduced to nothing more than data collection. In other words, it will become indistinguishable from big data, a growing field of artificial intelligence that uses advanced statistical methods to thoroughly analyze vast quantities of data. Its end goal is similar to science’s - finding correlations between certain variables to create predictions. It is then natural to wonder whether this will eventually become a new mainstream method of knowledge acquisition, overshadowing the impact that science has had on society until now. However, even if the ever-increasing enthusiasm surrounding big data makes it the driving force of human advancement, big data will never amount to actual science. This conclusion can be derived from a thorough analysis and comparison of the nature of big data and science. Consequently, it suggests that big data’s potential is exaggerated and may end up doing more harm than good to the advancement of human knowledge and understanding.

The accomplishments of big data so far have been astounding and extremely useful in fields ranging from public health to business. Some enthusiasts, like Chris Anderson, go as far as to believe that big data will lead to so-called hypothesis-free science, i.e. science free of mathematical models and equations that have, until now, been the only tools that consistently (yet imperfectly) described the world around us. The reasons for such optimism are rooted in the qualities of big data concerning the three main cornerstones of almost any exploration: time, resources, and accuracy. An early example of big data’s

outstanding performance is tracking the spread of the winter flu virus in the United States (Mayer-Schönberger 2). Whereas it took one to two weeks for the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) to determine how the virus spread, Google’s algorithm managed to deliver a more accurate trend in almost real time! Whereas the CDC had to test people for the flu virus, and thus waste both time and medical resources, the algorithm took advantage of the search items that people voluntarily entered in their own time. However, Google did not know why the virus spread that way, just that it did. Quick, modest, and accurate, big data seems like a promising approach to overtaking science.

To understand why this is not the case, a deeper comprehension of the principles underlying big data is necessary. The essential mechanism behind big data is that petabytes ensure that “correlation is enough”, that “numbers speak for themselves”, and that “we can throw the numbers into the biggest computing clusters [...] and let statistical algorithms find patterns where science cannot” (Anderson). The main assumption allowing such statements is that all quantified systems will obey the Gaussian distribution (Succi 2). This ensures that uncertainty will converge to certainty with a sufficient number of measurements (Succi 3). However, this assumption fails when considering complex systems in which events are deeply correlated, unlike the independent events that obey the Gaussian distribution (Succi 2).

Moreover, apart from correlations, big data does not seem to provide anything else, most notably context. It means that big data discoveries can only add to the body of knowledge, but not necessarily the body of understanding. An example of this is J. Craig Venter, who managed to add numerous new species to the catalog of life, yet could not describe most of what he discovered (Anderson).

Another downside of big data is that completely adopting the approach of simple data harvesting and curve-fitting means completely abandoning critical thinking. This attribute is exactly what will eternally distinguish big data from proper science. There is nothing critical in letting a computer determine variables that are correlated, find the correlations, and finally derive predictions. Even more so, this process requires barely any thinking at all, let alone critical. A curve that pleases the data will always exist. As

von Neumann told Fermi: “With four parameters, I can fit an elephant and with five, I can make him wiggle his trunk” (Succi 11). However, there will not always necessarily be an intuitive scientific explanation of the observed phenomena. For example, the derivation of quantum mechanics required, and its development still requires, critical thinking, not (just) big data. This is because big data, on its own, can hardly contribute to hardcore physical sciences that require deep theoretical understanding (Succi 13). While some discoveries are made thanks to big data (such as the Higgs boson), the predictions of the existence of these discoveries always come from theoretical foundations (Mazzocchi 1253).

Another criterion that clearly distinguishes big data from real science is its pure inductive nature. Since “at its core, big data is about predictions”, and these predictions are based solely on previous patterns, big data is, by definition, inductive (Mayer-Schenberger 11). On the other hand, those familiar with the philosophy of science may strongly object to this argument, claiming that even science is, when broken down into its elementary laws, inductive in its nature, just like big data. While there is truth in this proposition, in the sense that these “laws of nature” are not known for certain to be correct, this comparison appears to be deeply unfair. Laws in natural sciences are incredibly interconnected and should just one of them be falsified, multiple areas of science may immediately require thorough revision. For instance, the falsification of the inverse square law of electromagnetism could drastically affect any area that concerns electric current or magnets. Yet, everything seems to work out just fine. Luckily, or unfortunately, this is not the case with big data, where each event is independent and the failure of the algorithm in one case will have little to no effect on other cases. It may not even cause a modification of the algorithm, as outliers are not impossible, just unexpected and improbable, so they could be labeled as nothing more than a deviation (Succi 3).

Furthermore, science is highly unlikely to find false correlations, whereas big data has plenty of them. The reason is that science critically evaluates, while big data does not even consider, if the context makes it sensible for two variables to be correlated. Therefore, while big data suggests that the rate of drowning by falling in a pool appears tightly correlated with Nicolas Cage’s

movies - a deeply interesting fact worth giving a thought - science could never come up with such conclusions as the contexts are completely unrelated (Succi 8). Although this quality perhaps makes big data more fun to work with, true progress in the understanding of the world requires a narrow focus on what genuinely matters in a given scenario.

This leads to another problem with big data: it focuses on what rather than why (Mayer-Schönberger 14). This can also be interpreted as “knowledge rather than understanding” or “correlation rather than causation”. While big data has been immensely useful and powerful in numerous instances, such as tracking the spread of the flu virus or translating between any two languages (Google Translate), what characterizes all of these examples is that “they [researchers] didn’t know, and they designed a system that didn’t care” (Mayer-Schönberger 2). A language-translating algorithm certainly does not understand (and probably does not care about), like Spanish speakers do, what “No hablo ingles” means, yet it will accurately translate it into “I don’t speak English”.

At first, this may seem like an upside of big data. After all, aren’t the researchers supposed to do the thinking and understanding part? Indeed they are. However, it does not seem that many of them are bothered enough to perform these tedious tasks. Their trust is unconditionally given to the algorithms that have no understanding of the context, which may even be impossible for scientists to determine. Just like how Venter was certain that he discovered a new species, yet could say nothing about it. What is hidden behind the “why” is wisdom, i.e. the ability to make the right decisions (Succi 8). Thus, wisdom guides humankind to what to do with the knowledge it has. Knowledge describes how to do something, but it is wisdom that decides if it should be done. If every human had been wise enough, we would have perhaps never come up with things such as atomic bombs, eugenics, or genetic profiling that is being committed against Uyghurs and Turkic minorities in China right now (Munsterhjelm). This is a fundamental problem of big data - it provides too much information, yet too little guidance on how to use it. Without wisdom, humanity is lost both on an individual and global scale, and, as such, it stands as a border between proper science and big data, preventing big data from ever becoming a science.

If big data is not destined to replace the scientific method, then can it at least be considered revolutionary? Although it may seem so, considering the number of new enthusiasts emerging in recent years, such as Anderson and MayerSchönberger, big data, if revolutionary, seems to, ironically, disobey the pattern that has been going on since the creation of information. Every revolutionary change in technology throughout history was preceded by resistance, suspicion, and skepticism of older generations. In his article “Don’t Touch That Dial”, Vaughan Bell gives examples from different centuries of what has been considered “confusing and harmful” at some point in time. Most of those, such as the printing press, radios, and television, had soon been approved, despite initially disturbing those unfamiliar with new technologies (Bell). Still, they were all revolutionary inventions at the time, the carriers of big change.

The suspicion and skepticism of older generations and the later acceptance by younger generations, therefore, seem to be a natural cycle of events, yet it is not present when it comes to big data. Though concerns surrounding data privacy may be interpreted as some sort of resistance, the reality is that most people, including those who are “resisting”, willingly give their personal information to private corporations and joyfully scroll through personalized social media feeds, news, and suggestions (such as which products to buy). The reason for this absence of resistance may be that big data simply is not that revolutionary. In retrospect, inductive reasoning based on a large collection of data has always been present in science. Before modern telescopes and petabyte-storing databases, astronomers were gathering years’ worth of observations of the positions of the stars to arrive at conclusions on how the universe works (such as Copernicus, Brahe, Kepler…). However, at no time in history has humanity been able to store and analyze as much data as it can today. Therefore, big data could be viewed just as a natural by-product of all technological advancements leading up to it rather than a big revolutionary discovery itself.

In conclusion, the evidence is clear - big data stands no chance of ever replacing science. The enthusiastic rumors that foreshadow the end of scientific inquiry should not be considered seriously. Still, their presence is an alert of how easily the essence of science can be misinterpreted and, perhaps even more alarmingly, forgotten. However, this does not mean that big data

should be disregarded in any sense, or that its accomplishments are any less significant. It is still one of humanity’s most powerful tools in its weaponry against ignorance, but those who dare to use it must address its limitations. Big data must be used wisely, and that wisdom can only come from science.

WORKS CITED

Anderson, Chris. “The End of Theory: The Data Deluge Makes the Scientific Method Obsolete.” Wired, 27 June 2008, wired.com/2008/06/pb-theory/. Accessed 2022.

Bell, Vaughan. “Don’t Touch That Dial!” Slate, 15 Feb. 2010, https://slate.com/ technology/2010/02/a-history-of-media-technology-scares-from-the-prin ting-press-to-facebook.html. Accessed 2022.

Mayer-Schönberger, Viktor, and Kenneth Cukier. Big Data: A Revolution That Will Transform How We Live, Work, and Think. Mariner Books, Boston, Massachusetts, 2014, pp. 1–18.

Mazzocchi, Fulvio. “Could Big Data Be the End of Theory in Science? A Few Remarks on the Epistemology of Data-driven Science.” EMBO Reports, vol. 16, no. 10, 2015, pp. 1250-1255.

Munsterhjelm, Mark. “Scientists Are Aiding Apartheid in China.” Just Security, 18 June 2019, https://www.justsecurity.org/64605/scientists-areaiding-apartheid-in-china/#:~:text=Chin ese%20security%20agency%20 scientists%20have,effectively%20target%20its%20oppre ssive%20measures. Accessed 2022.

Sagan, Carl. “Why We Need to Understand Science.” Skeptical inquirer, vol. 14, no. 3, 1990, pp. 263-269.

Succi, Sauro, and Peter V. Coveney. “Big Data: the End of the Scientific Method?” Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society, vol. 377, no. 2142, 18 Feb. 2019. https://doi.org/10.1098/rsta.2018.0145

Orwell, George. “What Is Science?” Tribune, 26 Oct. 1945.

ARE WE LIVING THROUGH A “BIG DATA”

The Representation of Female Sexuality in 20th Century Women

ANASTASIIA-LEI YANG

“The power of sexual pleasure and ownership of the sexual self—in all its facets—can free women from what society expects of and accepts from them.” — Jessamy Gleeson

Introduction

In the contemporary, Western world, female sexuality is not a surprising topic for discussion. The borders of feminism have extended from political and intellectual equality to breaking down the ‘biological’ walls between the two sexes. Throughout time, it has been perpetuated that compared to women, ‘biologically’ men are more prone to having increased sexual desire, a need for variety and polyamory, engaging in masturbation, and all other sorts of claims that refer to biological sex differences and evolution as a way to patronize female sexual identity. Not only do most of those claims completely ignore the social gender expectations on sexual behavior, they are, in fact, not true. Studies have found that, aside from the social pressure, women and men have similar levels of sexual desire (Sine). Moreover, one study found that women are sexually aroused (consciously or unconsciously) by all sexual stimuli, whether heterosexual or homosexual, animal or human – compared to men, whose sexual arousal stays within the boundaries of their sexual identity (Rosner). Female sexuality is extremely complex and multifaceted, factoring in individual preferences, motivations, and, most importantly, conflicts between the self and society. Unfortunately, to this day, the media does not represent women in a realistic, fair manner. Even though we are slowly moving away from writing women as love interests—an archetype that presents women solely for the satisfaction and development of the male protagonist—we are still continuously attempting to confine female identity into one-dimensional characters, stripped of the inner conflict, ability to make mistakes, and lustful intentions. Directors such as Phoebe Waller-Bridge and Greta Gerwig (who plays Abbie in 20th Century Women), have repeatedly criticized the ‘good girl’

angel-like representation of women and instead given their characters an opportunity to be human: loving, empathetic, but also angry, emotional, cold, and lustful. For women, sex has always been considered acceptable when intended to create a family. Female sexual desire has been seen as appropriate if directed at a long-term partner to bear children. Male sexual desire, on the other hand, is seen as natural and admissible in any circumstance other than violent (though even that is debatable). While manhood is associated with independence and power, womanhood is equivalent to motherhood and submission. Although hyperbolized, one can assume that to be a woman and to desire means to desire romance, commitment, and motherhood.

One film theory that addresses this issue is counter-cinema theory. As developed by film theorist Laura Mulvey, the theory argues that traditional Hollywood cinema is inherently patriarchal and perpetuates a male gaze that objectifies women. In response to this, Mulvey argues for the creation of a “counter-cinema” that challenges traditional narratives, offers alternative perspectives, and disrupts the male gaze. In terms of female sexual desire, counter-cinema theory aims to offer representations of sexuality that are not filtered through a male perspective. This includes depictions of female desires that are not purely focused on pleasing male partners, as well as allowing female characters to express their sexual intentions and motivations (Mulvey, 40–44). By providing alternative perspectives on sexuality, counter-cinema seeks to challenge the traditional patriarchal structures that have historically defined women’s sexuality as passive and subservient to male desire.

Doing It: Women Tell the Truth About Great Sex can be seen as a counterpoint to Mulvey’s theory of the male gaze in cinema. It offers a platform for women to share their own perspectives and experiences of sex outside of the narrow confines of mainstream media. By prioritizing the voices and experiences of women, the book challenges traditional power structures and norms surrounding sexuality, and offers a more inclusive understanding of what it means to have a fulfilling sex life (Pickering). Additionally, the book’s emphasis on personal storytelling and subjective experience can be seen as a rejection of the “male gaze” that Mulvey critiques in her theory. Rather than presenting women as passive objects to be looked at and desired, Doing

It foregrounds women’s agency and autonomy in their sexual lives. This emphasis on subjectivity and agency can be seen as a key tenet of countercinema, as it challenges dominant narratives and opens up new possibilities for representation and self-expression.

20th Century Women (2016), directed by Mike Mills, is both an example of the personalization of female sexual experiences advocated by Doing It, as well as a demonstration of Mulvey’s counter-cinema theory, making it a nuanced representation of female sexuality. The film is set in the 1970s and follows the story of Jamie, who is surrounded and influenced by the three significant women in his life. It is an example of a realistic exploration of heterosexual female desire. Each of the three female characters—Julie, Abbie, and Dorothea—tells a different story of sex from the viewpoints of different ages, value systems, and preferences. For the scope of this paper, I will be focusing on Julie and Abbie. I argue that in 20th Century Women, the main female characters, Julie (17 y.o.) and Abbie (24 y.o.) display various attitudes towards romantic relationships, motherhood, and sex, each conveying a complex understanding of female sexuality and subverting societal expectations and gender roles when it comes to sexual behavior. I do want to emphasize that I deliberately focused on the Western heterosexual female identity since other sexualities are outside the scope of this paper, as this film has primarily focused on heterosexuality in its characterization of women.

Julie

Julie’s character represents young women who have no intention of having children but are forced to consider motherhood as a possibility anyway. She engages in frequent one night stands, showing a complete disinterest in motherhood and long-term commitment. The filmmakers communicate this by attributing to Julie sexual promiscuity that is often associated with male behavior, yet contrary to a man, she does not have full control over her reproductive system and choices. In the one sex scene she appears for, she is promised by her sexual partner, Kyle, that he will take responsibility over contraception (in this case, “pulling out”) but he breaks that promise, leaving her with the fear of an unwanted pregnancy. The following day, she takes a two-hour pregnancy test, which highlights how much less reproductive

freedom women had in the 1970s. She is later taken by Abbie to Planned Parenthood, and goes on oral birth control, a choice only women can (or have to) take. Birth control pills have an extensive list of life-threatening side effects that women are told to accept as normal. Interestingly, the trials for invasive male birth control were stopped because “male contraceptives cannot have side effects,” even those that are less severe, revealing the inequality of reproductive health options (Kean). While there is an illusion of sexual equality, since both Julie and Kyle make the same sexual choices, he gets to fulfill his desire without fearing the consequences or feeling a burden of responsibility. For him, each sexual experience is enjoyable and carefree, while for Julie, each encounter is a potentially life-altering event.

Moreover, Julie’s character represents women who do not experience the same physical pleasure as men but derive other forms of pleasure from sex that are not focused on men’s needs. It is well known that only 40% of women orgasm during penetrative sex (McIntosh). When asked what female orgasm feels like, Julie replies: “I don’t have them.” While it is true that one reason for this is that sex is a male-focused pleasure, this does not mean that all women comply with this societal expectation and just “participate” in sex to please their male partners. When Julie is asked why she has sex, she says that she loves how male bodies look, how men sound, and how “desperate” they get, conveying that women are neither “pure” nor passive; they can also objectify bodies, seek dominance, and pursue their own agenda. Contrary to victimizing stories, which often view orgasm as the purpose of sexual pleasure, women do not have sex to satisfy their partners needs, demonstrating that female sexual identity is separate from men’s needs. Through dialogue, Julie speaks for herself, silencing the assumptions that if she does not orgasm, she is not enjoying sex or is doing it for male satisfaction. She, like many other women, has lustful motivations, intentions, and desires independent of the male partners.

Furthermore, Julie represents women who are not interested in romance and do not pursue sexual relationships for emotional connection, as the definition of femininity implies. In fact, she feels uncomfortable and appalled when pursued romantically. When told by her best friend, Jamie, that he loves

her, she says, “You like the idea of me. It’s not me.” And when Jamie asks her to have sex, she rejects his sexual advances because they are “too close” emotionally, communicating that for her, emotional and sexual connection are different and even mutually exclusive. Even after being “won over” by the male protagonist, she rejects both his love and sexual desire, once again proving that women think independently—they do not seek for someone to save them, nor do they change their minds because of the “efforts” a man has put into pursuing them. Contrary to the popular notion that the older women become, the more they begin to want to get married and become mothers, Julie did not change her mind. She decided to have a marriageless, childless partnership. And that was her decision.

Abbie

Abbie represents women who have unconventional sexual interests, engage in fetishism, and partake in sexual role play. Because pornography is highly male oriented, it caters to fulfill and represent men’s sexual fantasies, misrepresenting women as having less interest in sexual role play, and un-diversifying sexual fantasies that focus on women as “protagonists”. In the film, Abbie’s character makes the viewer reflect and, most importantly, be exposed to the narrative where a woman is unapologetically expressing her sexual interests. Abbie approaches William, a middle-aged man renting a room next to her, to ask him if he wants to “fool around.” William agrees, and while they are kissing, Abbie says that she needs him to pretend to be a photographer who saw her on the street and thought that she was beautiful. When William asks if he can be himself, she boldly replies, “No.” They proceed to have a sexual role-play and begin a casual sexual relationship. Later in the film, right after Abbie gets into a physical fight with a woman in the club and is in an emotionally rough state, William decides to tell her that he wants to stop having sex with her, to which she reacts confused, as if she has better things to worry about, and replies: “You want to stop sleeping with me? I don’t even like you”. Abbie’s character demonstrates that women engage in casual sexual encounters to fulfill their own sexual fantasies that completely strip their male partner of their identity, conveying that for some women, it does not matter who they are having sex with, but rather, how well they can pretend

to be somebody else. Once again, communicating that sex, for a lot of women, is independent from the emotional connection to their partner and aims to solely satisfy female sexual desire.

Moreover, Abbie’s character represents women who consider their sexuality one of the most important parts of their identity. In one of the scenes, Abbie creates a self-portrait from pictures of the things that she owns. The two most intriguing objects are birth control pills and a bra. One interpretation of her choice to include contraceptives could be that she considers her stance for sexual liberation and the right of women to control their own bodies and reproductive choices as a part of her fundamental values. By including her birth control pills, Abbie is making a statement about her own identity and the importance of reproductive freedom for women. A bra, on the other hand, can communicate that even though her values completely disagree with the concept of femininity and gender expectations placed on women, she still conforms to them in some way since they are impossible to escape completely. When juxtaposed with her sexual fantasy of being a “shy” model that is seduced by a photographer, this conformity could also be interpreted as her sexual interest in submission. However, the ambiguity of her intentions behind her choices over the objects could be the filmmakers’ statement on how different and fluid women’s values and interests are and that we cannot restrict their sexual identity nor clearly define it. This aligns with the theme of the film: all women have different sexual desires and cannot be confined to a single character archetype.

When it comes to the consideration of female sexuality in relation to motherhood, Abbie represents women who do not conform to the conventional image of a mother. Abbie is portrayed as a free-spirited, rebellious feminist. She has short, red hair and wears provocative clothing— not the kind of vision of a mother one would immediately picture in their head. As a result of ovarian cancer, Abbie has been told by a male doctor that her reproductive system is “incompetent” to handle pregnancy. Her cancer is connected to the anti-depressants her mother was taking during pregnancy, conveying the dangerous reality of women’s health systems. In the conversation with Dorothea, Abbie expresses her sadness about her

inability to bear children—a grief over a life she cannot be responsible for. Abbie’s character demonstrates that women’s attitude towards motherhood is unrelated to their appearance and political views, as well as their sexual interests and choices—women are free to look however they want and choose whatever they like. In the end of the film, Abbie does go against the doctor’s advice and gets pregnant with three kids, symbolizing going against men’s attempts to control women’s reproductive choices. She also gets married, abandoning casual sexual relationships, which once again demonstrates the fluidity of women’s values and choices.

Conclusion

Through the characters of Abbie and Julie, the filmmakers demonstrate unconventional (and conventional) attitudes towards sex, motherhood, and romance. Julie’s character challenges the idea that women’s motivation to explore their sexuality is driven by motherhood, yet she emphasizes that those factors are forced on women, leaving them with no choice but to be prepared for pregnancy as an unfortunate possibility. Abbie’s character breaks stereotypes around a woman’s image, illustrates unconventional sexual desires, and advocates for the importance of recognition of sexuality as a part of female identity. Even though I did not explore the third character, Dorothea, I would like to mention that she has a vital role in breaking the stigma around sexuality and aging, exploring the sexual desires of older women. This film is a perfect example of counter-cinema as proposed by Laura Mulvey and a realistic portrayal of women’s sexual experiences as represented by the authors of Doing It: Women Tell the Truth about Great Sex. The retrospective style of the film makes us reflect on how far women’s autonomy over their reproductive choices, sexuality, and image has progressed so far and how much more is yet to be done.

WORKS CITED

Kean, Aam. “Why Don’t We Have a Male Birth Control Pill Yet?” Science History Institute, 20 Apr. 2021, www.sciencehistory.org/distillations/podcast/why-dont-we-have-a-malebirth-control-pill-yet. Accessed 6 Apr. 2023.

McIntosh, James. “Orgasm: What Is It, What Does It Feel Like, and How Long Does It Last?” MedicalNewsToday, 23 Nov. 2022, www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/232318#:~:text=The%20same%20 study%20reports%20that. Accessed 7 Apr. 2023.

Pickering, Karen. Doing It : Women Tell the Truth about Great Sex. University Of Queensland Press, 2016.

Rosner, Hillary. “Unraveling the Mystery of Female Desire.” NBC News, 29 Sept. 2009, www.nbcnews.com/health/health-news/unraveling-mystery-female-desire-flna1c9455797. Accessed 3 Apr. 2023.

Sine, Richard. “Sex Drive: How Do Men and Women Compare?” WebMD, 4 Mar. 2009, www.webmd.com/sex/features/sex-drive-how-do-men-women-compare. Accessed 3 Apr. 2023.

A People in Crisis: The Occupation of Three Emirati Islands

ARWA ALABBASI

The occupation of Abu Musa, although one of the lesser-known occupations in recent historical memory, highlights the role ideological suppression and restriction of resources play in removing a people from power structures, and rendering them ‘other’. Before their withdrawal from the United Arab Emirates, the British granted Iran three of the UAE’s oil rich islands, the Greater and Lesser Tunbs, and Abu Musa in 1968 (“Abu Musa Island”).

And in response to Sheikh Saqr bin Muhammad al-Qasimi’s1 resistance to relinquishing sovereignty over the two islands, as demanded by Muhammad Reza Pahlavi2, Iranian military forces invaded the Emirati islands on November 30th of 1971 (Al-Mazrouei 13). Despite the resistance put up by the inhabitants and the police force, Iranian forces were able to seize control over the islands. Over time, Iran has tightened its grip on the islands. In the sixtyseventh session of the United Nations General Assembly in September 2012, the UAE Foreign Minister, Sheikh Abdullah bin Zayed Al Nahyan expressed concerns over Iran’s treatment of the UAE citizens on the islands, highlighting the prevention of communication to mainland UAE and the restrictions hindering the assistance the UAE is sending, such as building materials, from reaching the inhabitants3 (Hajjar). He deemed “all procedures and measures practiced by the Iranian occupation authorities... null and void and violative of international law and all common human norms and values”4 (Hajjar).

Since the occupation of Abu Musa, Emirati inhabitants of the island have been subject to alterity and exclusion, as per the theoretical framework laid out by Isaac Reed in “Power in Modernity”, through the restriction of resources

1 Ruler of Ras al-Khaimah at the time

2 the Shah of Iran at that time

3

and mobility, attempts to dilute cultural heritage and historical identity and presence, and the portrayal of Emiratis and Iranians as enemies via the cultivation of political ideology.

In 2011, a pregnant Emirati woman went into labor prematurely in Abu Musa and wasn’t able to sea-travel to the mainland and give birth there as planned. She had to be taken to an Iranian hospital on the island where the Iranian authorities tried to exploit the situation to force the parents to accept a birth certificate stating Iran as the birthplace (Al Jandaly). Restricting access to resources and mobility is used as a tool to impress the discriminatory hierarchy through exclusion from the projects of rector and actor5, essentially a disinvitation from the game of recognition as Reed puts it. Such alterity of the Emirati inhabitants of Abu Musa has both an ethnic and national dimension. Emirati residents are pressured to leave the island or concede their identity as residents of Iranian land; forgoing their heritage and connection to the island, to escape their ‘otherness’. The characteristic of non-relation and non-belonging is attributed to a group and brings about volatility and resentment towards them from other groups (Reed). In 1992 Iran established a naval base and anti-ship missiles on the island which allowed them to restrict the Emirati population’s access to services and resources as they were dependent on imports from Sharjah and Ras Al-Khaimah (“Abu Musa Island”). The Emirati inhabitants described their standard of living as “primitive”6, saying that they “face severe suffering in treatment and education, due to the intransigence of the Iranian side,”7 further explaining that “they are often prevented from leaving or entering the island”8 (Ashour). According to the residents, who preferred not to disclose their names for security reasons, the island “is divided into two parts, the largest of which is an Iranian settlement, and it enjoys modern services, while the residents of the Emirati part access only a few of these services”9 (Ashour). A significant

5 Rectors are those in power, holding the ability to send and bind agents on their behalf, actors are sent and bound and both work on furthering projects and aims respectively (Reed)

6

7

8

impact of this discrimination is the state of the lone school, embracing roughly 150 students with a staff of 27 teachers. It was described by an Emirati inhabitant as suffering from the lack of resources to maintain it: “its wooden buildings and caravans that are not suitable for education,”10, a result of what they describe as the “the continuous Iranian refusal to allow entry of study tools, educational supplies, and books for students”11 (Ashour). Director of the Sharjah Educational District, Fawzia Gharib, explained that the UAE educational district often sends educational supplies and study tools to the island, which remain on the port for long periods, as the Iranian authority often refuses their entry. Gharib recalled a shipment of computers that remained at the port for four months. He said, “Many educational mentors face difficulties in entering the island to follow the educational missions on the island, but their requests are often rejected”. Ibrahim Mustafa Khamis, a 60-year-old Egyptian, who has lived in Abu Mousa since 1979 and was the first secretary at Abu Mousa School elaborated, “Every structure is old and close to collapse...It lacks simple facilities, but the Iranian authorities are not allowing us to develop anything. The school is the backbone of the island, and the Iranians are aware of that. If a teacher retires, they will not allow another one to come” (Al Jandaly). Other residents add, “If one of the residents gets sick, they may not find treatment and they are forced to wait several days until the boat that connects the residents to Sharjah arrives,”12 and it happens that, “the Iranian side refuses to allow some residents to leave, and sometimes prevents them from entering the island, so they return to Sharjah”13 (Ashour). The former director of the media department in the Sharjah Municipality, Abdullah Al-Shuwaikh, recounts that he was supervising the island office in the municipality, and he tried for five years to enter the island, but the Iranian side met his request with refusals (Ashour). These practices manufacture alterity, and essentially separate the Emiratis from the actor-rector dynamic entirely, labelling them as unnecessary and ‘other’, disallowing them to pursue

their own development and improvement of their life standard in order to create pressure to push them away from the island.

These restrictions also bleed into the ideological repression of the Emirati identity and heritage. A stark example of this repression is, as Al-Shuwaikh recalls, when an Emirati citizen had passed away on the Island and the Iranian authority refused to bury him there, forcing his family to transfer his body to Sharjah for burial (Ashour). To deny burial was significant; sending the body to the Emirate further pushes the agenda separating the islands from the mainland and establishes a precedent that disregards or rewrites the history of the Emirati inhabitants who have lived and been buried on the island for generations. Another inhabitant noted that the Iranian authority even determines what type of food and groceries could come on the island, which meant that many common traditional Emirati dishes were not possible to prepare anymore, and the UAE and Sharjah flags could no longer be flown (Al Jandaly). This suppression of their cultural identity plays into the larger revisionist ideology of instilling doubt around the historical lineage and presence of Emiratis on the island. The Emiratis’ ability to communicate their living situation and the repression and exclusion the occupation is peddling is significantly muffled, as in addition to the denial of entry of journalists to the island, the Emirati families are deprived of mobile phone services, internet services, satellite dishes, and their only means of communication is a single telephone line that serves the police station, the clinic, and the municipality and electricity office of the Sharjah government (Ashour). All these elements feed into the undermining of their heritage and history leading to a sense of dislocation and alienation. This establishes the “otherness” of the Emiratis on the island, as they are no longer able to express or practice their national and ethnic identity in the ways they were able to before.

The second tool to achieve alterity is the political and social ideology cultivated around Arab and Emirati identity in Iranian politics. There is a trend of exclusion and repression of Arab identity in Iranian politics that is best seen in the ideological and political treatment of the Ahwaz, a group historically inhabiting Arabistan and modern-day Iran. This exclusion came in the form of banning the teaching of Arabic in schools, and the persianization of the Arabic names of towns, villages, and historic locations such as the switch

of the historic Arab port Mohammerah becoming Khorramshahr on world maps (Gornall). Karim Abdian, director of a Virginia-based NGO, the Ahwaz Education and Human Rights Foundation stated, “As an Ahwazi Arab, you cannot even give your child an Arabic name” (Gornall). Although the conflict over the three islands may simply be good grounds for rallying up nationalistic support, there is an undeniable ethnic and identitarian element to the appeals used to justify the occupation. An Iranian family interviewed by The New York Times expressed a common sentiment reiterated by Iranian civilians that reflects this ideology: “Arabs pretend as if they rule the region, but they have no history, and no independence, like Iran” (Erdbrink). Within this ideology not only is the cultural and historical identity of Emiratis revised to a mere shell of itself and not only is the UAE framed as a political threat to Iran, but Emirati people are framed as enemies to Iranian people. The UAE renewing its claim on the islands is not seen as just that, rather it’s seen as an attempt to conspire with western fronts: “The emirates are not acting independently in this matter,” said the analyst, Sadollah Zarei, 55, a columnist for the hard-line state Kayhan newspaper. “Bigger powers are behind this,” he continued, “By driving up tensions in the Persian Gulf, the U.S. and their allies are trying to send a message to Iran: back down, or face pressure on other fronts” (Erdbrink).

While the alterization of the Emirati families in Abu Musa through resource restriction and ideological repression causes significant challenges to their ability to thrive and survive, it seems that they remain hopeful that their perseverance and presence will be one day recognized and respected, allowing future generations to also call Abu Musa home as they do. An extension to this research could explore the ways in which international organizations responded to the calls to recognize the human rights abuses occurring on the Islands. Overall, the situation in Abu Musa highlights the potential and ability of political ideology to repress cultural identity and heritage to justify the alterization of an ethnic or national group, and such trends are seen in many similar cases manufactured by the withdrawal of colonial British presence in the Middle East.

Abu Musa Island and its sis- [ ters and the ongoing Iranian-Emirati dispute]. BBC News بيرع, 1 Feb. 2019, https://www.bbc.com/arabic/middleeast-47075823.

Al Jandaly, Bassma. “Abu Musa Residents: Iran Trying to Harass Us from Our Homes.” Lifestyle – Gulf News, 29 Oct. 2018, https://gulfnews.com/lifestyle/ abu-musa-residents-iran-trying-to-harass-us-from-our-homes-1.1045447.

Al-Mazrouei, Noura. “Disputed Islands between UAE and Iran: Abu Musa, Greater Tunb, and Lesser Tunb in the Strait of Hormuz.” The Gulf Research Meeting by Gulf Research Centre Cambridge, Oct. 2015, pp. 1–32.

Ashour, Ahmad. “

[Emiratis in ‘Abu Musa’ Live a Primitive Life under Occupation].”

[Emarat Al Youm], 10 May 2016, https://www.emaratalyoum.com/local-section/other/2010-04-22-1.231277.

Erdbrink, Thomas. “A Tiny Island Is Where Iran Makes a Stand.” The New York Times, 1 May 2012, https://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/01/world/ middleeast/dispute-over-island-of-abu-musa-unites-iran.html.

Gornall, Jonathan. “How Iran’s Ahwazi Arabs, Betrayed, Fell Victim to Oppression That Continues to This Day.” Arab News, 7 Jan. 2022, https:// www.arabnews.com/node/1998856/middle-east.

Hajjar, Bahaa. “خيراتلا

[The occupied islands...Emirati by virtue of history]. Sky News Arabia, 2 Dec. 2012, https://tinyurl.com/4ft4s4u9.

Reed, Isaac. Power in Modernity Agency Relations and the Creative Destruction of the King’s Two Bodies. University of Chicago Press, 2020.

In this vast desert expanse, two tiny figures make their way across the towering dunes, highlighting both the majesty of nature and the smallness of human existence within it. The sweeping curves of the sand, shaped by wind over time, stretch endlessly toward the horizon, creating a sense of infinite space and solitude. This photograph captures the spirit of exploration, with the figures symbolizing the enduring human drive to move forward, no matter how small we might seem against the world’s grand scale. Their trek serves as a visual metaphor for life’s journey, with its peaks and valleys, and the need to persevere through the unknown. The image invites us to pause and consider our own paths, reminding us that while we may appear small in the grand scheme, our journeys are meaningful, set against the timeless beauty of the natural world.

“Across the Sands”

by Muhammed Hazza Amir Ali

Clash of Modernity and Non-European Culture: Quest for Chagos Islands’ Return

DANIAL ZHANBYRSHY

From 1967 to 1973, the Creole population living on the Islands of Chagos, situated in the midst of the Indian Ocean, was forcibly expelled by the British government to make way for a United States military base1. Since then, Chagossians have been stripped of their land and forbidden from returning to their homes, left to live as immigrants in the United Kingdom and Mauritius. As marginalized voices gain more visibility and discriminatory political institutions are being abolished, concerns about the continued retention of power by post-colonizers are gaining traction, not only in the context of cultural preservation, inclusion, and diversity, but also in the restitution of what belonged to the oppressed: their land. This phenomenon has been coined as indigenous sovereignty, in other words, the inherent right of Indigenous people to self-govern and reclaim their traditional territories2. The documentary Another Paradise by Oliver Magis, features Sabrina Jean, a secondgeneration Chagossian leading the movement to decolonize and reclaim the Chagos Islands, and portrays indigenous sovereignty as an ongoing struggle against what is left of colonialism. The documentary depicts the remaining Creole population’s struggle to preserve their cultural heritage as immigrants in the United Kingdom while advocating for their return to their land, but this depiction raises questions. In its quest for justice, it unintentionally reinforces a Western-centric narrative, perpetuating ideas of white supremacy and implying the perceived incompatibility of non-European cultures with modernity, potentially impeding the Chagossians’ goal of returning home by depicting them as irrational and incapable of sustaining their own lives.

1 Richard Gifford and Richard P. Dunne, “A Dispossessed People: The Depopulation of the Chagos Archipelago 1965–1973”

2 Jeff Corntassel and Tomas Primeau, “Indigenous ‘Sovereignty’ and International Law: Revised Strategies for Pursuing ‘Self-Determination’,” p. 360

The documentary Another Paradise reinforces stereotypes of black inferiority by superficially addressing the crucial historical context of the Chagossians’ land loss, neglecting the complexities and nuances involved, and obscuring their socio-economic potential for self-governance that could have highlighted their tenacity in reclaiming their land. Instead, it presents Chagossians in a one-sided manner, focusing on their poor living conditions, attentionseeking behavior, and emotional or subjective reasons for wanting to return. In one scene, the documentary showcases the Chagossians’ protest in front of the Palace of Westminster, highlighting their anger and frustration. This scene is followed by a discussion at the House of Commons among white British officials, where they cite the lack of infrastructure and governance challenges on the island as reasons for rejecting the Chagossians’ return3. This portrayal, exemplified by an abrupt transition from scenes of protests held by frustrated Chagossians—depicted as facing socioeconomic challenges—to discussions with prepared responses by British officials—portrayed as the authoritative decision-makers citing governance challenges—constructs a narrative that perpetuates harmful notions of black inferiority. This implies limited knowledge in modern processes and practices within the Chagossian community, impacting their credibility in the ongoing fight for the return of their land, potentially undermining their chances for achieving their goal by casting doubts on the Chagossians’ capacity to sustain themselves.

This portrayal of Chagossians as irrational, impoverished, and in need of help has been a long-standing phenomenon in various depictions of black people, serving to promote white supremacist ideals. In his satirical piece How to Write About Africa Binyavanga Wainaina illustrates the Eurocentric depiction of Africa, showcasing how Africans are often viewed through a lens of victimhood, relying on stereotypical portrayals of Africans as helpless victims in need of assistance, reinforcing the white savior complex and white supremacy4. While the article humorously tackles the Eurocentric depiction of Africa, it overlooks instances where these stereotypes align with reality. There are cases where such portrayals hold relevance, offering depth to contemporary issues. Another Paradise effectively incorporates the

3 Olivier Magis, Another Paradise, 20:00-22:32

4 Wainaina Binyavanga, How to Write about Africa

hardships faced by the Chagossians, reflecting one of Binyavanga’s Eurocentric depictions of African struggle as “The Starving African”5. When examining the specific context of the Chagossians, a small population of 3,000 people, forcibly exiled just 50 years ago and currently residing as immigrants in the United Kingdom without prior knowledge of the English language, it becomes apparent that their challenges in sustaining themselves and their families cannot be overlooked. These challenges have ignited a fight for indigenous sovereignty and may indeed resemble the plight of “Starving Africans.”

Considering the historical and social context, it becomes evident that the Chagossians’ reliance on the “benevolence of the West” may, unfortunately, be one of their limited options. Recognizing and documenting the harsh realities faced by the Chagossians, marked by struggles and poverty, is imperative for gaining a nuanced understanding that provides transparency and delves into the complexity of their fight.

The documentary, however, falls short in its portrayal of the Chagossians’ plight. Rather than presenting their struggle as a formidable force driving their efforts to reclaim their land, it inadvertently casts their challenges as insurmountable obstacles. This portrayal diminishes the agency of the Chagossians, implying a lack of understanding or capability in their pursuit. A more effective approach would have involved showcasing their difficulties while emphasizing their resilience and profound comprehension of their cause. Such a representation would have added depth to the narrative, offering a truthful depiction that confronts the power structures responsible for their marginalization post-exile. In doing so, the documentary would have spoken truth to power without perpetuating stereotypes or diminishing the Chagossians’ agency.

Towards the end of the documentary, Sabrina Jean is depicted suggesting the idea of secretly traveling from the United Kingdom to the Islands of Chagos by boat, where this idea is met with dismissal by the lawyer and a supporter at the dinner table, both of whom are white men, due to concerns about its feasibility and potential jurisdictional constraints6. Sabrina’s proposal could be perceived as a call for direct action stemming from the frustration of the Chagossian

5 Wainaina Binyavanga, How to Write about Africa, para. 8

6 Olivier Magis, Another Paradise, 1:15:10-1:16:27

community’s struggle; however, the dismissal of the idea in the documentary, with laughter and labeling it as insane, disregards the complexity of the Chagossians’ fight for indigenous sovereignty, undermining a serious issue that involves the displacement of an entire Creole population to a seemingly far-fetched idea. Furthermore, it reinforces stereotypes that portray people of color as lacking a basic understanding of the contemporary world and concepts of law and order.

In Black Children in Hollywood Cinema: Cast in Shadow, Debbie Olson presents a compelling argument that media narratives about children are predominantly centered around white children, while black children are marginalized and depicted in a one-sided narrative of poverty and helplessness. This biased portrayal perpetuates prejudiced perceptions of black children as less admirable and less likely to evoke empathy. Olson’s research reveals that white children are often depicted as sympathetic characters who elicit feelings of sorrow when facing challenges, while black children are denied the same level of admiration7. This difference in treatment between white and black children in media narratives stems from a historical Eurocentric view that originated during the times of slavery. This view dehumanizes black people, blurring the boundaries between adulthood and childhood for them, and leading to preconceived perceptions of black children as adults and black elders as child-like. This portrayal of black people as inferior and less human is deeply ingrained, leading to harmful racial stereotypes, such as the depiction of Chagossians as irrational and their ideas as childish or impractical.

The documentary proceeds to highlight the Chagossian football team’s journey to Abkhazia for a stateless World Cup match, intended as a platform for Chagossians to garner global attention and advocate for their return to their homeland. However, it takes an unexpected turn, portraying the team in a negative light, highlighting scenes of them staying up late and being forced to wake up for the match, which then proceeds with the depiction of their loss and failure to score any goals8. This portrayal raises questions about the perception of indigenous sovereignty among the younger generation of Chagossians. Olúfemi Táíwò, a distinguished African scholar, argues

7 Debbie Olson, Black Children in Hollywood Cinema: Cast in Shadow

8 Olivier Magis, Another Paradise, 1:00:30-1:04:12

that indigenous sovereignty has lost its original meaning of marginalized communities seeking self-governance and has evolved into a broader concept that rejects anything associated with colonialism9. Táíwò asserts that decolonization thinkers absolutize colonialism, oversimplifying causality, and disregarding the nuances of rich historical customs and procedures, thus perpetuating the belief that modernity is inherently Western and clashes with non-European cultures10. Táíwò would argue that decolonization proponents, like the Chagossian football team, fight based on a search for “authenticity” and a sense of belonging as members of marginalized groups rather than fight for personal and rational reasons. This is closely related to his perception of the decolonization trope, viewing it from a binary lens, one that encompasses indigenous sovereignty and another that rejects everything associated with colonialism11 .

Yet, contrary to his view, the Chagossians’ struggle illustrates an intersection and complementation of both definitions of decolonization, as one would not exist without the other. The Chagossians are fighting to return to their homeland by participating in collective actions, such as representing their people at events like the stateless World Cup, while also striving to sustain and preserve their cultural heritage, which forms the basis of their fight for indigenous sovereignty. Táíwò views the rejection of everything associated with colonialism as a component of the decolonization trope, rather than recognizing it as a form of cultural preservation or maintenance in the face of living as a minority group in a society that frequently promotes other ideals.

Furthermore, Táíwò argues that decolonization thinkers often fail to distinguish between colonialism and modernity, attributing concepts to the West even if they are products of modernity12. The documentary’s portrayal of Chagossians participating in the stateless World Cup serves as an example of their ability to engage with modern concepts, challenging the notion that modernity is solely associated with the West. The Chagossians’ participation in the stateless World Cup, which represents teams from diverse countries

9 Olufemi Taiwo, Against Decolonisation: Taking African Agency Seriously

10 Olufemi Taiwo, Against Decolonisation: Taking African Agency Seriously

11 Olufemi Taiwo, Against Decolonisation: Taking African Agency Seriously, pp. 15-16

12 Olufemi Taiwo, Against Decolonisation: Taking African Agency Seriously, pp. 16-17

competing on a global stage, challenges the notion of modernity as exclusively Western and highlights the ability of non-Western cultures to connect with and embrace modern concepts. Nevertheless, the documentary’s depiction of the relationship between modernity and non-European cultures is narrowly framed and tends to emphasize black inferiority and irrationality, perpetuating the notion of white supremacy that pervades various aspects of the world, including modernity.

In conclusion, Another Paradise sheds light on the ongoing struggle of the Chagossians for indigenous sovereignty; however, it falls short in presenting the complexities and nuances of their historical context and potential for self-sustainability, reinforcing Western-centric narratives of modernity and perpetuating harmful stereotypes of black inferiority. In order to truly promote indigenous sovereignty and combat colonial legacies, it is essential to highlight the multifaceted aspects of the Chagossians’ fight, beyond simplistic portrayals of their behavior, and acknowledge the legitimacy of their reasons for seeking the return to their homeland.

WORKS CITED

Corntassel, Jeff J., and Tomas Hopkins Primeau. “Indigenous ‘Sovereignty’ and International Law: Revised Strategies for Pursuing ‘Self-Determination.’” Human Rights Quarterly, vol. 17, no. 2, 1995, pp. 343–365. http://www.jstor. org/stable/762521.

Gifford, Richard, and Richard P. Dunne. “A Dispossessed People: The Depopulation of the Chagos Archipelago 1965–1973.” Population, Space and Place, vol. 20, no. 1, 2014, pp. 37–49. Wiley Online Library, Wiley, 2012, https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/psp.1754.

Magis, Olivier. Another Paradise. Lussas, France: Andana Films, 2019. https:// docuseek2.com/an-apara.

Olson, Debbie. Black Children in Hollywood Cinema : Cast in Shadow. Cham: Springer International Publishing AG, 2017. ProQuest Ebook Central. https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/nyulibrary-ebooks/detail. action?docID=4822953

Olúfemi Táíwò. Against Decolonisation : Taking African Agency Seriously. London: Hurst, 2022. https://search-ebscohost-com.proxy.library.nyu.edu/login.as px?direct=true&db=nlebk&AN=3321254&site=ehost-live

Wainaina, Binyavanga. How to Write About Africa. Granta, 2005. https://granta. com/how-to-write-about-africa/.

Racism Beyond Western Discourses: An Analysis of Tunisian President Kais Saied’s Speech

FATMA RAMADHAN ALAHMADI

On Friday, March 3, 2023, in the early morning, Milena–a young student from Burkina Faso–was ambushed by three Tunisian men while on her routine supermarket run. The men harassed her, demanding that she leave their country. When a police car stopped by, instead of reprimanding the attackers, the officer ordered Melina to present her residency permit. Despite complying, Milena was still handcuffed and forcibly taken into the police car. At the police station, one officer yelled, “You Blacks create problems,” while another kneed Milena in the stomach. Due to her skin colour, Milena faced verbal and physical abuse, resulting in the police detaining her for four hours. They only released her following the testimony of a Tunisian woman she knew.1

Tunisia has long grappled with racism, but anti-Black attacks have significantly surged after a National Security Council meeting at the Carthage Palace on February 21, 2023. During this meeting, Tunisian President Kais Saied urged the council to take immediate action against undocumented sub-Saharan African immigrants, whom he claimed brought “violence, crime, and unacceptable practices” to Tunisia. The paradox in Saied’s speech lies in his emphasis on Tunisia’s Arab identity over its African identity, while also claiming that he cannot be racist towards sub-Saharan Africans as an African himself.2 This discrimination goes beyond migrant communities and is present in the wider Tunisian society. Black Tunisians and sub-Saharan migrants face severe racism in their access to education, employment, and healthcare which only increased following Saied’s speech, with more abuses

1 Amnesty International, “Tunisia: President’s Racist Speech Incites a Wave of Violence against Black Africans,” Amnesty International, March 14, 2023, accessed April 16, 2023, https://www. amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2023/03/tunisia-presidents-racist-speech-incites-a-wave-ofviolence-against-black-africans/.

2 Alghad, “Kalimat al-Ra’is al-Tunusii Qais Saeid khilal liqa’ih wazeer al-Daakhilia [The Speech of Tunisian President Kais Saied during His Meeting with the Minister of Interior],” Alghad TV, February 23, 2023, News recording, 5:55, https://youtu.be/ZGwpI1ZcBy8.

reported.3 By analysing President Kais Saied’s public statement on sub-Saharan Africans in Tunisia for its racist implications, this essay intends to highlight the limitations of contemporary scholarly discussions that reinforce racism as a Western concept, thus creating a blindspot in racial discourses that overlook the Arab world’s role in the creation and perpetuation of racism.

Kais Saied’s speech caused widespread outrage and sparked protests from Tunisian civil society and human rights groups. The speech encouraged the marginalisation of Black Tunisians, who constitute up to 15% of the country’s population with Tunisian roots dating back centuries, as well as over 21,000 sub-Saharan migrants.4 Since mid-February, 840 migrants from Ivory Coast, Guinea, Cameroon, and other African countries have been arrested and accused of staying illegally in the country.5 The violence did not stop with Milena. In another case, Mahamadou Maiga, a Malian student, left Tunisia a few weeks after Saied’s speech as someone set his apartment building on fire.6 Similarly, outside a cafe, six men attacked Manuela D, a Cameroonian asylum seeker, stabbing her in the chest while shouting racist insults. Their words, “Go back home, you gang of Blacks, we don’t want you here,” reflect the alarming rise in violence and discrimination towards Black people in Tunisia.7 This surge in hate crimes creates an environment of fear and insecurity within the Black community. Following the speech, the African Union condemned Saied and urged Tunisia to refrain from such “racialized hate speech.”8 They

3 “Tunisia: Racist Violence Targets Black Migrants, Refugees,” Human Rights Watch, March 10, 2023, accessed April 16, 2023, https://www.hrw.org/news/2023/03/10/tunisia-racist-violencetargets-black-migrants-refugees.

4 Sharan Grewal, “In Another First, Tunisia Criminalizes Racism,” Brookings, March 9, 2022, accessed April 16, 2023, https://www.brookings.edu/blog/order-from-chaos/2018/10/15/inanother-first-tunisia-criminalizes-racism/.

5 Chao Deng, “Tunisian President Targets Sub-Saharan African Migrants, Mob Violence Follows,” WSJ, March 5, 2023, accessed April 16, 2023, https://www.wsj.com/articles/tunisian-presidenttargets-sub-saharan-african-migrants-mob-violence-follows-7a51495a.

6 Alessandra Bajec, “African Migrants Stranded in Tunisia amid Rising Xenophobia,” The New Humanitarian, April 6, 2023, accessed April 16, 2023, https://www.thenewhumanitarian.org/ news-feature/2023/04/06/african-migrants-tunisia-xenophobia.

7 Amnesty International, “Tunisia: President’s Racist Speech Incites a Wave of Violence against Black Africans.”

8 “African Union Postpones Conference in Tunisia amid Crackdown on Migrants,” Middle East Monitor, March 7, 2023, accessed by March 7, 2023, https://www.middleeastmonitor. com/20230307-african-union-postpones-conference-in-tunisia-amid-crackdown-on-migrants/.

reminded him of the country’s obligation, under international law, to “treat all migrants with dignity.”9 Therefore, addressing racism beyond Western discourse becomes more significant when considering the impact of Saied’s speech on Black individuals in Tunisia.

Although President Saied claims his issue solely lies with the undocumented immigrants from sub-Saharan Africa, he nonetheless encourages racial discrimination in Tunisia, regardless of immigration status. He refers to the influx of undocumented sub-Saharan immigrants as “hordes” with the hidden aim “to change the demographic makeup of Tunisia.”10 He continues by alleging that the migrants bear responsibility for the country’s “violence, crimes and unacceptable practices.”11 The lack of evidence to support Saied’s claims indicates that xenophobia and racism primarily drive his argument. Western societies, namely the United States, widely discuss this issue of racism. In her book Black Children in Hollywood Cinema, Debbie Olson describes how discussions about people and children of colour often occur within the contexts of stereotypes such as criminal activities.12 She argues that these portrayals intend to create a sense of opposition between Black and white people while also elevating white people as superior.13 While Olson’s work solely discusses the representation of Black children in Hollywood cinema, an evident parallel exists between its American context and the Tunisian one. By characterising African migrants as criminals, Saied positions them as inferior to the rest of the population. Following the controversy regarding his initial speech, Saied denied the accusations of racial discrimination, explaining that the new law aims to regulate the presence of foreigners as a part of Tunisia’s “plan for localisation.”14 However, Saied’s portrayal of sub-Saharan African migrants as violent and irregular perpetuates racism.

9 “African Union Postpones Conference in Tunisia amid Crackdown on Migrants.”

10 Carthage, “Ra’is al-Jumhuriyya Qais Saeid yatara’as ijtmaeaan li-Majlis al-Amn al-Qawmi [President of the Republic Kais Saied Heads a Meeting of the National Security Council],” Carthage, February 21, 2023, accessed April 17, 2023, https://www.carthage.tn/?q=ar/رئيس-الجمهورية-قيس-سعيد-يترأس-اجتماعا-لمجلس-الأمن-القومي.

11 Ibid.

12 Debbie Olson, Black Children in Hollywood Cinema: Cast in Shadow (Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 4.

13 Ibid., 159.

14 Alghad, “The Speech of Tunisian President Kais Saied.”

Through his speech, President Saied invokes nationalistic sentiments amongst both Tunisians and Arabs to separate themselves from the subSaharan immigrants. He first appeals to the public’s Tunisian nationalism by emphasising the importance of maintaining the nation’s demographic makeup and preventing it from being changed. He then highlights Tunisia’s support for liberation movements in other African countries and its role as a founding member of the Organization of African Unity.15 These statements suggest a desire to prioritise Tunisia’s interests and identity as an African nation. However, Steven Grosby’s commentary about nationalism highlights how Saied’s nationalist rhetoric also aims to frame undocumented immigration as a threat to Tunisia’s national identity.16 Grosby explains how nationalism tends to place nations in opposition to one another, as it reinforces an “us versus them” mentality and “injects hatred of what is perceived as foreign.”17

This concept of nationalism does not fully apply to the context of Tunisia. Instead, the nationalism in Tunisia encompasses a sense of pride for being Arab, thus pitting the Arab countries against other nations and ethnic groupings–commonly known as Arab nationalism. This sentiment is evident in Saied’s argument that migrants aim to transform Tunisia into “a purely African country that no longer belongs to the Arab and Islamic nations.”18 Here, Saied uses Arab nationalism to preserve this false belief that the migration of Africans is a threat to the Tunisian nation. Consequently, he excludes Black Tunisians by prompting this notion of Arabness that leaves no room for being Black. The idea that Arabs are “white” is connected to Arab nationalism as early scholars divided North Africa as “White Africa” and countries south of the Sahara as “Black Africa.”19 Tunisians continue to uphold this colonial idea of the civilised north and primitive south, where they consider themselves

15 Ibid.

16 Steven Elliott Grosby, Nationalism: A Very Short Introduction (Vancouver, B.C.: Langara College, 2017), 5.

17 Ibid.

18 Carthage, “President of the Republic Kais Saied Heads a Meeting of the National Security Council.”

19 Leslie Gross-Wyrtzen, “‘There Is No Race Here’: On Blackness, Slavery, and Disavowal in North Africa and North African Studies,” The Journal of North African Studies 28, no. 3 (2022): pp. 635-665, June 13, 2022, https://doi.org/10.1080/13629387.2022.2089124, 648.

“white” and superior to Black Africans.20 Contemporary Tunisian society continues the legacy of slavery through the othering of Blackness. The colloquial language in Tunisia and across North Africa guides a sense of superiority, occasionally referring to Black people as ‘abīd and wassif, which means slave and servant in Arabic.21 Therefore, the significance of Grosby’s commentary lies in its ability to contextualise the power structure in Tunisia and highlight how Saied’s nationalist rhetoric can further the discrimination against Black people.

Another way in which Saied segregates African immigrants from Tunisians is through his use of “othering.” Edward Said’s theory of Orientalism challenges the Western depiction of the “Orient”–or the East–as the inferior and barbaric other. Orientalism explains the concept of “othering”–the separation of a group into the familiar “us” and the strange “other”–as a form of justification used by the West when criticising other countries.22 Although this theory mainly focuses on critiquing Western versus Eastern contexts, it provides a critical framework to analyse Saied’s choice of wording in his statements. The process of othering is evident throughout Saied’s speech as he constantly refers to the sub-Saharan countries as “African” as a form of separation between them and Tunisia. This division becomes particularly apparent as Saied seeks to highlight the existence of Black people in Tunisia by framing it as “Tunisia’s cooperation with African countries.”23 Rather than stating “other African countries,” which would have grouped Tunisia with them, Saied opts to create this distinction between Tunisia and African countries, portraying them as completely separate entities. Moreover, North Africans often use the term “Africans” to refer to individuals from West and Central Africa, as a means of distinguishing themselves from those regions.24 By separating and “othering” the African countries, Saied attempts to impose a higher status

20 Haythem Guesmi, “It Was Not Saied Who Introduced Anti-Black Racism to Tunisia,” Racism | Al Jazeera, March 17, 2023, accessed April 16, 2023, https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2023/3/17/it-was-not-saied-who-introduced-anti-blackracism-to-tunisia.

21 Gross-Wyrtzen, “‘There Is No Race Here’”, 654.

22 Edward W. Said, Orientalism (London, UK: Penguin, 2021), 43.

23 Alghad, “The Speech of Tunisian President Kais Saied.”

24 Gross-Wyrtzen, “‘There Is No Race Here’”, 653.

onto Tunisians as the “us” while undermining other Africans as the strange “other.”

On the other hand, Orientalism also has limitations that continue to affect the representation of the Orient in scholarly discourse on racism. Whilst this theory offers a guide for understanding the issues revolving around the Western gaze on the East, it fails to acknowledge the harmful perspective within the East itself. Additionally, although it might not have been his intent, Edward Said discourages Western scholars from critiquing Islamic societies, arguing that those who do are inherently “racist, an imperialist, and almost totally ethnocentric.”25 Academics like Henry Munson highlight the negative impact of Orientalism on Middle Eastern and North African studies in the United States as scholars fear that discussing the issues in these societies would label them as racist or orientalist.26 The lack of general discourse surrounding topics such as racism and xenophobia in the Arab world further perpetuates them. Tunisia, for example, prides itself on being the first Muslim country to officially abolish slavery in 184627 and, later, in 2018, the first to legally criminalise racial discrimination.28 However, the legacy of slavery is still a censored topic–especially within education.29 People are reluctant to discuss the history of the trans-Saharan slave route, which is not taught in Tunisian schools since Arabs and Muslims were the ones who enslaved others.30 As a result, it is commonly believed, across North African societies, that they themselves cannot be racist.31 Therefore, the recent speech by President Saied

25 Said, Orientalism.

26 Joshua Teitelbaum and Meir Litvak, “Students Teachers and Edward Said: Taking Stock of Orientalism,” trans. Keren Ribo, Middle East Review of International Affairs 10, no. 1 (March 2006), 38.

27 UNESCO, “The Abolition of Slavery in Tunisia 1841-1846,” 2016, accessed April 16, 2023, https:// en.unesco.org/memoryoftheworld/registry/211#:~:text=Tunisia%20was%20the%20first%20 country,century%2C%20between%201841%20and%201846.

28 Grewal, “In Another First, Tunisia Criminalizes Racism,” Brookings, October 15, 2018.

29 Simon Speakman Cordall, “What’s in a Name? How the Legacy of Slavery Endures in Tunisia,” The Guardian, October 19, 2022, accessed April 16, 2023, https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2020/nov/07/whats-in-a-name-how-thelegacy-of-slavery-endures-in-tunisia.

30 Ibid.

31 Gross-Wyrtzen, “‘There Is No Race Here’”, 636.

exposes the limitations of contemporary literature, such as Edward Said’s theory which hinders conversations about racism within the Arab world.

President Kais Saied’s speech on the migration of sub-Saharan Africans in Tunisia sheds light on the ongoing problem of racism and discrimination in the country. As evident from the surge in anti-Black crimes and arrests of Black individuals following the speech, the issue of racism is deeply entrenched in Tunisian society. A critical analysis of the speech reveals that Saied’s rhetoric opposes sub-Saharan Africans and Tunisians by stereotyping criminal activity as a characteristic of all sub-Saharan Africans. Moreover, his nationalistic rhetoric fosters pride in Tunisia’s Arab identity to further segregate between Tunisians, represented as the familiar “us,” and sub-Saharan Africans, portrayed as the unfamiliar “other.” This speech also highlights a significant gap in the existing scholarly literature, which often neglects the prevalence of racism in non-Western societies like Tunisia. The impact of Saied’s speech emphasises the need to address racism beyond the confines of Western discourse and recognise the role of non-Western societies in perpetuating it.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Amnesty International. “Tunisia: President’s Racist Speech Incites a Wave of Violence against Black Africans.” Amnesty International, March 14, 2023. Accessed April 16, 2023. https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/ news/2023/03/tunisia-presidents-racist-speech-incites-a-wave-ofviolence-against-black-africans/.

Alghad. “Kalimat al-Ra’is al-Tunusii Qais Saeid khilal liqa’ih wazeer al-Daakhilia [The Speech of Tunisian President Kais Saied during His Meeting with the Minister of Interior].” Alghad TV. February 23, 2023. News recording, 5:55. https://youtu.be/ZGwpI1ZcBy8.

Bajec, Alessandra. “African Migrants Stranded in Tunisia amid Rising Xenophobia.” The New Humanitarian, April 6, 2023. Accessed April 16, 2023. https://www.thenewhumanitarian.org/news-feature/2023/04/06/africanmigrants-tunisia-xenophobia.

Carthage. “Ra’is al-Jumhuriyya Qais Saeid yatara’as ijtmaeaan li-Majlis al-Amn al-Qawmi [President of the Republic Kais Saied Heads a Meeting of the National Security Council].” Carthage, February 21, 2023. Accessed April 16, 2023.

https://www.carthage.tn/?q=ar/

Cordall, Simon Speakman. “What’s in a Name? How the Legacy of Slavery Endures in Tunisia.” The Guardian, October 19, 2022. https://www. theguardian.com/global-development/2020/nov/07/whats-in-a-namehow-the-legacy-of-slavery-endures-in-tunisia.

Deng, Chao. “Tunisian President Targets Sub-Saharan African Migrants, Mob Violence Follows.” WSJ, March 5, 2023. Accessed April 16, 2023. https:// www.wsj.com/articles/tunisian-president-targets-sub-saharan-africanmigrants-mob-violence-follows-7a51495a.

Grewal, Sharan. “In Another First, Tunisia Criminalizes Racism.” Brookings, March 9, 2022. Accessed April 16, 2023. https://www.brookings.edu/blog/ order-from-chaos/2018/10/15/in-another-first-tunisia-criminalizesracism/.

Grosby, Steven. Nationalism: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford University Press, 2005.

Gross-Wyrtzen, Leslie. “‘There Is No Race Here’: On Blackness, Slavery, and Disavowal in North Africa and North African Studies.” The Journal of North African Studies 28, no. 3 (2022): 635–65. https://doi.org/10.1080/13629387.2 022.2089124.

Guesmi, Haythem. “It Was Not Saied Who Introduced Anti-Black Racism to Tunisia.” Racism | Al Jazeera, March 17, 2023. Accessed April 16, 2023. https://www.aljazeera.com/opinions/2023/3/17/it-was-not-saied-whointroduced-anti-black-racism-to-tunisia.

Middle East Monitor. “African Union Postpones Conference in Tunisia amid Crackdown on Migrants,” March 7, 2023. https://www.middleeastmonitor.com/20230307-african-union-postponesconference-in-tunisia-amid-crackdown-on-migrants/.

Olson, Debbie. Black Children in Hollywood Cinema: Cast in Shadow. Palgrave Macmillan, 2017.

Said, Edward W. Orientalism. London, UK: Penguin, 2021.

Teitelbaum, Joshua and Meir Litvak, “Students Teachers and Edward Said: Taking Stock of Orientalism,” trans. Keren Ribo, Middle East Review of International Affairs 10, no. 1 (March 2006).

UNESCO. “The Abolition of Slavery in Tunisia 1841-1846,” 2016. Accessed April 16, 2023. https://en.unesco.org/memoryoftheworld/ registry/211#:~:text=Tunisia%20was%20the%20first%20 country,century%2C%20between%201841%20and%201846.

NATO Bombing of Yugoslavia: The Misleading Focus on the Means of Intervention

MUKHAMED SAGYNTAIULY

The NATO intervention in the Kosovo War claimed to mark a paradigm shift in international politics. Free of the constraints of the Cold War and with fresh memories of failure to act in Bosnia and Rwanda, Western leaders proclaimed an era of “new internationalism where the brutal repression of whole ethnic groups will no longer be tolerated” (Blair 1999). NATO officials framed the bombing of Yugoslavia as a justified humanitarian war that served to protect Kosovars from the “genocidal regime of Slobodan Milošević” (Havel 1999: 98). Since intervention involves waging an offensive war and violating a fundamental principle of national sovereignty, it is vital to assess how NATO’s narrative coincides with the reality of the intervention, that is, the justness of the military campaign.

The just war theory suggests three criteria for evaluating a war: jus ad bellum, jus in bello, and jus post bellum. The first one assesses justifications for the use of force, the second focuses on the ethics of the conduct of the war, and the last judges the war’s outcome (Walzer 2012: 44). The Independent International Commission on Kosovo (IICK) concluded that the NATO military campaign was legitimate because of real prospects of ethnic cleansing, the exhaustion of diplomatic attempts to resolve the crisis, and the campaign’s contribution to the liberation of Kosovo (2000: 4). In other words, the Allied Force meets both jus ad bellum and jus post bellum criteria. The methods of this humanitarian intervention, however, raised debates about the morality of the operation. Not only did airstrikes inflict substantial damage to the Serbian civilian population and infrastructure, but they also led to the intensification of the repressions against Kosovars (Roberts 1999: 114). Philosopher Michael Walzer deems the choice of bombing instead of ground invasion counterproductive and immoral, emphasizing that “you cannot kill unless you are prepared

to die” (2004: 101). The question thus arises regarding NATO actions: do imperfect means undermine the legitimacy of the intervention? I argue that the air campaign was a legitimate form of intervention and an optimal option given political constraints. The fierce advocacy for proper means of intervention is morally too ambitious and can disincentivize countries from intervening. The Kosovo War demonstrates that less-than-perfect means produce ultimate humanitarian outcomes, so means are not the decisive factor in securing human rights. The main contributor to the long-run success of the intervention is a clear vision of jus post bellum, which was present in the Kosovo case. Using the language of the ‘Responsibility to Protect’ doctrine, the discussion of humanitarian intervention should concentrate more on the ‘responsibility to rebuild’ rather than on how exactly mass violence is stopped at a particular moment. By identifying the correct focus of the discourse, we can make the doctrine of humanitarian intervention more effective and applicable to real-world constraints.

Although the use of airpower put civilians at risk, it still was a legitimate tactic in achieving a humanitarian result. The main points of criticism of bombing in general are summarized in Michael Walzer’s “The Argument About Humanitarian Intervention” and “Kosovo”. First, the air war cannot be won without harming civilians (Walzer 2002: 34). Second, bombing operations fail to stop the atrocities that soldiers commit on the ground (Walzer 2004: 94). This is a valid criticism, but it does not undermine the legitimacy of the bombing. As the IICK found out, the NATO actions were intact with international laws on the conduct of war and resulted in impressively small civilian damage considering the scale of the war (2000: 183-184). Of course, there were civilian casualties, but this criticism of bombing as means of intervention implies that land operations produce zero damage, which is, at the very least, a debatable assumption. Walzer uses the invasions of Cambodia, East Pakistan, and Uganda as examples of successful interventions, even though they also resulted in civilian deaths (2002: 33). Writing about Uganda, political scientist Nicholas J. Wheeler asserts that “there is no costfree humanitarian intervention” and “the costs in lives to Tanzanian soldiers and Ugandan civilians killed as a consequence of the fighting have to be set against the number of lives saved by Tanzania’s intervention” (2001: 132-133).

The same logic would apply to the NATO intervention in Kosovo, even if the means were different. Moving to the second point against the bombing, we need to consider that Western observers frame Kosovars as those who suffered the most from NATO’s actions, because Serbs intensified ethnic cleansing in response to the intervention. However, for Kosovars, NATO actions were a legitimate rescue. “Albanians were the primary victims, and there is universal feeling that, although the price was far bloodier than expected, it was worth paying for the sake of liberation from Serb rule,” British journalist Jonathan Steele reported from Kosovo in July 1999 (1999: 9). The NATO intervention initially failed to stop the atrocities, but, from Kosovars’ perspective, the humanitarian outcome outweighs this failure.

Another criticism of the NATO intervention comes from the ethical side. Walzer argues that a country cannot jeopardize the security of foreign civilians without bearing a risk itself, summarizing this principle as “You cannot kill unless you are prepared to die” (2002: 33). Whereas bombing is still a legitimate option for intervention, the land invasion, indeed, probably would have been more successful and more morally good. However, the political reality at the time made a ground operation an infeasible option. Wheeler explains that NATO leaders ruled out an invasion because they feared casualties would subvert the public support for intervention (2001: 284). British Prime Minister Tony Blair explicitly stated that “the casualties would potentially be large” when discussing this option (1999). Some scholars argue that ground operation was becoming more and more possible as the war progressed, citing the increase in the planned size of the Kosovo Force as a signal (Roberts 1999: 118). They claim that this signaling of incoming invasion significantly contributed to Milošević’s capitulation (Roberts 1999: 118). Yet, an analysis by Daniel R. Lake suggests that NATO’s invasion prospects were meager, and they did not affect Milošević’s decision-making (2007: 91). Even if, for instance, President Clinton had approved the invasion, he would have faced political turmoil in Congress (Lake 2007: 91). Moreover, countries like Germany openly opposed the land option and threatened to veto any authorization of force within NATO (Lake 2007: 91). It is clear that political constraints made invasion impossible; hence, when discussing the bombing, it is essential to consider that the alternative was not a land operation but non-

intervention. Returning to the ethical criticism of the intervention, if we agree that bombing is intrinsically immoral, the realistic effect would be not that Western countries will commit the lives of their troops to save strangers but that the West would prefer non-intervention to not violate this moral setting. As philosopher Peter Singer notices, our moral obligations to save strangers are obvious as long as we bear little to no cost (1997). Consequently, if the lives of the soldiers are at stake, Western leaders would not view stopping mass violence in another country as their moral duty. The ethical issue of not taking risks represents a balance between what Catherine Lu calls “moral ambition and political constraints” (2007: 950). Lu asserts that “if a pragmatic humanitarian intervention attains the minimal objection of saving lives, it may still be morally preferable to nonintervention” (2007: 950). The NATO intervention demonstrates that the doctrine of humanitarian intervention should consider political realities and possibly reject unattainable moral thresholds.

Although we should not disregard the air force as a means of humanitarian intervention, it has limitations in immediately preventing massacres. NATO’s decision to intervene was based on a wrong assumption that Milošević would immediately back down right after the bombing started (Roberts 1999: 110). The prolonging of the conflict was a surprise for the NATO leaders (Roberts 1999: 110). How could the bombings, despite the initial failure, ultimately lead to the humanitarian result? I argue that this is a consequence of NATO’s clear vision of the just resolution of the crisis, or in just war theory’s language, jus post bellum. Western leaders explicitly defined how they view the success of the operation: “a verifiable cessation of all combat activities and killings … the return of all refugees and unimpeded access for humanitarian aid, and a political framework for Kosovo based on Rambouillet” (Blair 1999). In “Reflection on Jus Post Bellum”, Walzer argues that the intervening side accepts certain obligations, including the preservation of peace and security and political reconstruction (2012: 44). NATO accepted such responsibilities and was ready to provide ground forces for maintaining security and participate in reframing Kosovo-Serbian relations. The clear vision of how the just outcome should look enabled NATO to continue exerting pressure on Yugoslavia until its terms were accepted, even after an initial failure. The understanding of

jus post bellum reinforced NATO’s readiness to act and eventually allowed the intervention to succeed. This is what differentiates the intervention in Kosovo from unsuccessful operations like the alliance’s bombing of Libya, which was transformed into a failed state as a result of the war. Walzer criticized NATO’s decision to intervene in Libya because of the lack of the endgame, commenting that “it would extend, not stop, the bloodshed” (2011). The disparity of results between Kosovo and Libya shows that the presupposition of jus post bellum plays a critical role in determining the ultimate outcome of the intervention, not only the means of the intervention.

NATO’s intervention in the Kosovo War represents a balance between the moral ambitions of the doctrine of humanitarian intervention and the underlying political realities and constraints. Framing the bombing as an intrinsically morally and practically inferior method can lead not to an increase in the number of ground operations, but to a decrease in willingness to intervene at all. In addition, operation Allied Force demonstrates that even supposedly imperfect means can achieve great humanitarian results if there is a clear vision of the endgame of the intervention. Thus, the doctrine of humanitarian intervention should draw more attention not to the means but to the concept of jus post bellum, which should presuppose future interventions. In some sense, a current version of Responsibility to Protect attempts to implement this by including a responsibility to rebuild as a part of the doctrine. We should acknowledge this responsibility to rebuild and bear it in mind while making decisions on interventions. To realize our values and aspirations of the world of universal human rights, we should ground our moral ambitions to the constraints of political reality. It is a good start to correctly identify our priorities and find ways in which our ethical responsibilities can be put into practice.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Blair, Tony, ‘A New Generation Draws the Line’, Newsweek; 19 April 1999, Vol. 133 Issue 16.

Havel, Václav, ‘Protecting people from tyranny of a state sovereignty’, speech to a joint session of the Senate and House of Commons, Ottawa, April 30,

1999. (Václav Havel, NATO, Europe, and the Security of Democracy: Václav Havel - Selected speeches, articles, and interviews 1990 – 2002, (Prague: Theo Publishing Pardubice, 2002), pp. 96 - 100).

Independent International Commission on Kosovo, The Kosovo Report, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000).

Lake, Daniel R., ‘The Limits of Coercive Airpower: NATO’s ‘Victory’ in Kosovo Revisited’, International Security, vol, 34, no. 1 (2009), pp. 83–112.

Lu, Catherine, ‘Humanitarian Intervention: Moral Ambition and Political Constraints’, International Journal, Vol. 62, No. 4, India Emerging: Strength and Challenge (Autumn, 2007), pp. 942-951.

Roberts, Adam ‘NATO’s “Humanitarian War” over Kosovo’, Survival – Global Politics and Strategy, 41, no. 3 (1999), pp. 102 – 123.

Singer, Peter, ‘The Drowning Child and the Expanding Circle’, New Internationalist, April, 1997

Steele, Jonathan, ‘Confused and still in denial. Serbs have a long way to go’, The Guardian, London, 9 July 1999, p. 9.

Walzer, Michael, ‘Kosovo’ in Arguing about War, (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004), pp. 99 – 103.

Walzer, Michael, ‘The Aftermath of War – Reflections on Jus Post Bellum’, in Eric Patterson (ed.) Ethics Beyond War, (Washington, DC: Georgetown University Press, 2012), pp. 35– 46.

Walzer, Michael, ‘The Argument about Humanitarian Intervention’, Dissent, Winter (2002), pp. 29-37.

Walzer, Michael, ‘The Wrong Intervention’, Dissent (March 21, 2011) https:// www.dissentmagazine.org/online_articles/the-wrong-intervention

Wheeler, Nicholas J, Saving Strangers – Humanitarian Intervention in International Society, (Oxford: OUP, 2001).

Prices are skyrocketing in Mexico, and people are getting expelled from communities that once were theirs because they can’t afford to live there anymore. In contrast to this gentrification process, here we can see a flower seller at her flower shop inside a market in Guanajuato, Guanajuato. A place that hasn’t expelled this local woman yet and where she peacefully takes care of her flowers.

“Un-gentrified” by

Miriam Delgado

American Dream: A Beautiful Fantasy for Some and A Capitalist Nightmare for Others

SAMIRA ALDYBERGENOVA

The American Dream - an iconic phrase that has come to symbolize the idea that anyone can achieve success, prosperity, and upward social mobility in America through hard work and determination - has its roots in the early history of the United States. The early European settlers who came to America in the 17th century saw the New World as a land of opportunity, where they could own land, practice their religion freely, and achieve economic success. Over time, the concept of the American Dream evolved, becoming more closely associated with the idea of material success through hard work and perseverance, especially in the 19th century. However, with growing awareness of economic inequality, social and racial barriers, and other factors, the American Dream has come under scrutiny in recent years. While some people still believe in the core ideology of the American Dream, others criticize it as an unrealistic and illusory notion that promotes toxic capitalist ideals. In my understanding, the American Dream perpetuates a notion of a lifelong marathon, where all those who reach the finish line are deemed winners. However, it is also worth pointing out that the marathon is rigged against some competitors who face different limitations like starting from a farther line, having to jump over obstacles, or running barefoot. These prejudices create an unfair competition, making disadvantaged competitors more prone to fatigue, sprains, and other physical injuries. The pursuit of the American Dream, while not involving running, can be similarly injurious. In this essay, I will explore how the uneven distribution of opportunity, marginalization, and structural peculiarities can “injure” the disadvantaged minority that is chasing the American Dream. To do so, I will adopt the framework of the violence of positivity proposed by Byung-Chul Han through the lens of intersectionality and structural violence suggested by Kimberle Crenshaw and Johan Galtung. By assembling these topics, I aim to present The American Dream as a form of modern violence by putting it into the

perspectives of marginalized communities and the modern reality of capitalism.

The core values of the American Dream - determination, competition, and hard work - find their parallel in Han’s concept of violence of positivity, defined as “the accumulation of the positive”. Violence of positivity manifests itself as overachievement, overproduction, hyper-attention, and hyperactivity (8), a modern phenomenon defined by its invisibility to the naked eye. Because of its unapparent nature, people are often unable to identify it as violence. When people succumb to the violence of positivity, they think it was their idea to do so, which Han describes as self-exploitation or self-compulsion which “takes place outside compulsion, pretending to be freedom” (8). According to Han, individuals in the society of overachievement exploit themselves until they are completely burned out and by doing so become both the victims and the perpetrators (8). The American Dream can also be defined as a prime example of self-exploitation. People chasing the American Dream become victims of their own ambition and sense of freedom, reinforced by the capitalist system of the United States. The ideology of the American Dream promises to reward those who abide by the violence of positivity and tends to romanticize it to an extreme to serve its own goals. This amplification serves as a veil that hides the violent character of the American Dream from those who are chasing it.

Still, what Han fails to acknowledge is that within the society of overachievement, people still belong to different groups and might experience the violence of positivity in different ways, depending on their societal status, race, gender, and other identity categories. This difference in experience is denoted by the concept of intersectionality coined by Kimberle Crenshaw. Crenshaw delves into identity politics, specifically focusing on the intersectionality of violence against women of color. According to Crenshaw, the elision of difference in identity politics is problematic because violence that people experience is often shaped by many dimensions of identity (1242). In other words, deconstructing the identity by parts diminishes its distinctive nature, not allowing us to understand the experience of a person as a whole, be that a woman of color or any other minority. Same principle can be applied to the American Dream. For example, if we consider the American Dream as a goal of becoming wealthy, people who want to satisfy their ambition in this

regard are going to follow the same paths but receive different rewards. In 2022, an average American woman earned 82% of what an average white American man earned (Aragão), and in 2019 Black and Latinx American women earned 70.4% of what white American women earned (Bronstein). This data shows that to achieve the same level of wealth, women of color need to work for longer periods of time, which is an additional burden that they carry while already working in the society of overachievement. In Han’s view, being caught in a loop of the self-exploitation cycle is what makes people burnout. As Han suggests, “excess positivity” - which is over accomplishment and hyperactivity - causes “psychic ailments such as burnout and depression” (92). Consequently, if individuals are forced to work harder, their self-exploitation cycle becomes larger and thus more dangerous to their mental health. All of this adds up and leads to an unequal burnout.

The eventuality of burnout is ingrained in the violence of positivity and lies in the category of psychological violence explored by Johan Galtung. “Violence that works on the soul” includes brainwashing and indoctrination, something that is reflected in the concept of the American Dream (Galtung 169). According to Galtung, in the positive approach to influence, a person’s actions can be affected by “rewarding him when he does what the influencer considers right” (170). The influencer within the framework of the American Dream is the capitalist system of positivity, an environment that benefits from people’s oblivious willingness to be self-exploited. As it has been highlighted by Han, system of positivity receives benefits when the subject internalizes the external authority and makes it a part of themself, since it allows the authority to rule over them with less effort; this creates destructive tensions within the human psyche as it is in conflict with the violence of positivity (7). Psychological violence inconspicuously constrains human action and is exacerbated by structural violence, another type of violence analyzed by Galtung. He defines structural violence as violence that is “built into the structure and shows up as unequal power and consequently unequal life chances” (171). Structural violence is defined by unequal distribution of resources among different “rank dimensions”, which serves as an underlying logic behind social injustice and inequality (Han 171, 175). In other words, some groups of people simply cannot compete within the same system because they are not presented with the same resources and opportunities. Such limitations

put certain groups of people under more pressure, making them susceptible to vulnerability and psychological violence. This is one of the points where the American Dream as an ideology of meritocracy fails to hold true. If structural violence does not allow some people to reach their full potential due to unequal distribution of opportunity, then simply putting in the effort is not enough to attain the American Dream. Furthermore, since psychological violence is aggravated by structural violence, people under systemic pressure internalize the violence of positivity even more. Their lack of success is deemed to be caused by their own incompetence, rather than acknowledged as a struggle that was shaped by systemic barriers and perpetuation of social inequalities.

One might argue that success in American society is achievable despite those barriers, using the concept of model minority as an example that seems to be fitting into the ideology of the American Dream. The model minority stereotype portrays certain ethnic and racial minority groups as being hardworking, lawabiding, and academically successful. This term was originally used to describe Asian Americans, who were perceived as having achieved success in American society despite facing discrimination. However, the model minority stereotype tends to oversimplify the diversity of experiences within minority groups, while also reinforcing the idea that success is solely the result of individual effort and hard work and ignoring the struggles faced by them. In reality this concept does not uphold the romanticized ideology of the American Dream but creates unrealistic expectations and places undue pressure on individuals to succeed, which perpetuates the violence of positivity even further. This stereotype occurred in the first place because to be a model minority an outsider needs to be perfect and set an example of what a model citizen should be. In this instance, a member of the model minority seems to be overcoming the structural violence imposed on them, but is still unable to escape the vicious cycle of the violence of positivity and its psychological repercussions. Acknowledging the marginalization and structural pressure within the concept of the American Dream is important to recognize the psychological influence it may bear on different groups of people.

In conclusion, the ideology of the American Dream still remains salient in modern American society. While it may seem like a beautiful fantasy on paper,

in practice, it is a tool that perpetuates the violence of positivity and unfairly targets minoritized populations. The structural violence that is neatly tied with the strands of psychological violence creates unrealistic expectations and biases that negatively affect the mental well-being of marginalized communities, making them more vulnerable to burnout and depression. Recognizing these patterns helps to understand the realistic notions of the American Dream and not the far-fetched illusions we were made to believe. I think that updating its definition and recognizing the faults of its original meaning are the first steps to addressing the social inequalities and structural pressures within the society of overachievement.

WORKS CITED

Aragão, Carolina. “Gender Pay Gap in U.S. Hasn’t Changed Much in Two Decades.” Pew Research Center, 1 Mar. 2023, https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2023/03/01/gender-pay-gapfacts/.

Bronstein, Stephanie. “Confronting the Racial Pay Gap.” Vanderbilt Law Review, vol. 75, no. 5, Oct. 2022.

Crenshaw, Kimberlé Williams. “Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence Against Women of Color.” Stanford Law Review, vol. 43, no. 6, July 1991 pp. 1241-1299. https://doi. org/10.2307/1229039.

Galtung, Johan. “Violence, Peace, and Peace Research.” Journal of Peace Research, vol. 6, no. 3, 1969, pp. 167–191. www.jstor.org/stable/422690.

Han, Byung-Chul. Topology of Violence. Translated by Amanda DeMarco, MIT Press, 2018.

How Many Englishes? Criteria for Demarking Variances in the English Context

SAMUEL LEGISSA

With approximately 1.5 billion speakers across the globe, English is considered to be the most widely spoken language in the world (Ethnologue, 2022). As the lingua franca of the globe, it is the medium of communication for international trade, politics, education, and cultural exchange. But which English are we talking about: British, American, Canadian, or Indian? There are many varieties of the language, and people have adopted it differently based on their culture and original linguistic backgrounds that come from the languages they speak prior to or alongside English. Some scholars have gone as far as to consider the different varieties as separate languages (Bhatt, 2001, p. 527). So, is English a single language, or are there many “Englishes”?

Apart from the linguistic significance of differentiating between languages and dialects, understanding the nature of the English language and its varieties can have far-reaching consequences, affecting millions or potentially billions of lives. These consequences could, for instance, come in the form of politics when countries like India, Pakistan, or islands in the Caribbean decide to declare their variety of English as a separate language. Potential actions similar to this could have positive and negative effects on different groups and their cultures, and to a certain extent, on the power dynamics in the English-speaking world. Although more research is required to determine what type of effects a change in the status of an English dialect to a separate language can have in society, we can see the implications of such shifts in other languages of the Balkan region (Bugarski, 2019, p. 28). This essay argues that there is only one English language, and the term “World Englishes” is no greater than a misnomer. To understand why the different varieties of English are dialects and not separate languages, there needs to be a clear distinction between languages and dialects. The two interdependent

factors we will consider as the major criteria for differentiating language and dialect are general understandability and cultural exposure.

Languages may have different dialects that arise based on geographic, historical, or other reasons. According to Comrie (2018), various dialects are considered to be part of the same language if one person with one dialect can communicate a sufficient amount of information to another person with a different dialect. He calls this mutual intelligibility (Comrie, 2018, pp. 2-3). A good example of this could be a person who speaks British English having a conversation with a person speaking Indian or American English. Empirical research and cross-cultural exposure are two important factors that aid our understanding of intelligibility as a differentiator between languages and dialects.

Research provides empirical evidence for the validity of using mutual intelligibility as a distinguishing factor. According to Tamburelli (2021), intelligibility is the best criterion for demarcating the language and dialect boundary. He goes on to refute a popular objection against intelligibility, the political objection (Tamburelli, 2021). According to this objection, political interests could divide mutually intelligible languages. A famous example of this is the Bosnian, Croatian, Montenegrin, and Serbian family of “languages.” Although they are considered separate for socio-political reasons, a group of linguists from each country has formed a common understanding of the fact that these so-called languages are regional variants of a common language (Bugarski, 2019, p. 28). Tamburelli (2021) supports this claim by stating that it is illogical for political science to determine linguistic differences among languages. According to his article, the political objection necessitates the amalgamation of two divergent concepts: the Abstand language and the Ausbau language. In simple terms, the former describes languages that are linguistically distinct from each other, while the latter is a language that has undergone standardization and institutionalization, often for political or cultural reasons. The author suggests that this objection arises from the mistaken belief that there must be a perfect correspondence between structural linguistic systems and socio-political constructions (Tamburelli, 2021, p. 5). Similarly, in the English language, political objectives cannot overshadow the fact that English speakers can understand

each other, for the reason Tamburelli (2021) stated in his paper: it is illogical.

But what do we mean by “understand each other”? It turns out that intelligibility comes with two additional dimensions to achieve full communication; these are comprehensibility and interpretability (Kachru & Smith, 2008, p. 61). It is important to formally define all three terms to have a broader understanding. According to Kachru and Smith (2008), intelligibility is “the recognition of a word or another sentence-level element of an utterance” (p. 61). This means intelligibility is not necessarily linked with understanding the meaning of a word or sentence. It is recognizing the locutionary act (the act of utterance) of a speaker and identifying how many words were said or how one can repeat back what was said even though he/she might not have understood the meaning. Comprehensibility refers to “the recognition of a meaning attached to a word or utterance, i.e., the contextual meaning of the word in a sociocultural setting as well as the illocutionary force [related to purpose] of an utterance” (Kachru & Smith, 2008, p. 62). This means comprehensibility necessitates understanding meaning: for example, hearing a police officer shouting “Stop!” and understanding that a single word has been uttered by the officer is part of intelligibility. But stopping your movement in response to the officer’s request requires comprehensibility. The third dimension of understanding requires interpretability, which is “the recognition by the hearer/reader of the intent or purpose of an utterance, i.e., the perlocutionary effect the speaker/writer is aiming at” (Kachru & Smith, 2008, p. 63). Interpretability requires a deeper form of understanding that considers social and cultural differences between the speaker and the listener. For example, asking the following question could produce different results depending on the type of English you speak: “Hasn’t the President left for Nairobi yet?” Most English speakers would answer “No” if they knew that the President had not left. But for people who speak African English, the proper answer is “Yes.” English listeners would not have any problems with intelligibility or comprehensibility. However, the lack of exposure to the African variety of English shows a clear gap in interpretability (Kachru & Smith, 2008, p. 66).

This is where the second criterion comes into play: cross-cultural exposure. Having prior exposure to a foreign dialect has been proven to improve

intelligibility between interlocutors of different dialects. Multiple research studies provide evidence for this. One such study that was conducted by Kang & Rubin (2012) examined the attitudes of US undergraduate students towards non-native English-speaking teaching assistants (NNESTAs). Their experiment involved a contact intervention mechanism where an experimental group of undergraduates participated in puzzle solving and other interactive encounters with NNESTAs, and a control group with no such experience. The groups underwent a trial that tested undergraduates’ perception of the comprehensibility, overall oral proficiency, degree of accentedness, and teaching competence of the NNESTA’s recorded speeches. During the first trial, 63 students were asked to rate 11 mini-lectures of a NNESTA based on the above four criteria, 29 of whom were asked to participate in the contact intervention after the trial, and 34 were not invited. A few weeks later, all 63 students were asked to rate the same lectures by the same criteria. According to the results, all 29 students who took part in the intervention had positive reviews of the NNESTA’s comprehensibility and teaching competence, while the control group did not change their ratings (Kang & Rubin, 2012, pp. 161-162). This experiment is a good example of how cultural contact can close the gap in communication between different dialects. Particularly, this experiment demonstrates how important intercultural contact is for English, where we find different varieties of dialects.

Another experiment that involved cross-cultural training to improve comprehension of foreign-accented speeches produced positive results. This experiment, conducted by Derwing et al. (2002), involved three groups of social work students: one group received instructions on cross-cultural training and explicit linguistic instruction on comprehension of foreignaccented speech, one group only received the cross-cultural training, and the third group was the control group with no training. The experimental groups were tested using listening comprehension passages read in Vietnameseaccented speech before and after an eight-week instruction period, as well as a sentence transcription task. The results showed that both experimental groups displayed increased empathy towards immigrants. But most importantly, the group that received explicit instruction on Vietnameseaccented English demonstrated greater confidence in interacting with

individuals who speak English as a second language compared to the other groups. Additionally, the accent-trained group believed that their ability to understand foreign accents had improved to a significantly greater degree than the other groups. In contrast, the group that received only cross-cultural awareness exhibited moderate gains (Derwing et al., 2002, p. 245). This again shows that exposure to a foreign language and culture can improve communication between English speakers of different varieties. We also learn from the second experiment that the intensity of exposure to a certain cultural background can determine the level of increased communication.

In conclusion, to state that there are many “Englishes,” there needs to be a clear mutual understanding gap between interlocutors that cannot be filled with the background knowledge of one another’s culture. We have seen experimentally that English speakers can, for the most part, understand each other. But in the instances they do not, we cannot hastily conclude that the language has separated into different parts. English speakers have the option of exploring the cultures and linguistic nuances of other English speakers to improve mutual understanding. The role cross-cultural exploration plays in closing the gap between the different variants of the language does not make English less of a language than other languages in terms of being a single language with multiple dialects. It is important to mention that this paper does not argue against potential changes that may arise from the expanding nature of English and its encounters with other cultures and languages (Crystal, 2018, p. 121). But at the moment, there seems to be no factor that would undermine the unity of the English language.

REFERENCES

Bhatt, R. M. (2001). World Englishes. Annual Review of Anthropology, 30(1), 527550. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev.anthro.30.1.527

Bugarski, R. (2019). “The declaration on the common language”: A view from the inside. Aegean Working Papers in Ethnographic Linguistics, 2(2), 23-29. https://doi.org/10.12681/awpel.22595

Comrie, B. (2018). Slavonic languages. In B. Comrie (Ed.), The world’s major languages (pp. 277-281). Routledge. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781315644936

Crystal, D. (2018). The Cambridge encyclopedia of the English language (3rd ed.). Cambridge University Press. https://doi.org/10.1017/9781108528931

Derwing, T. M., Rossiter, M. J., & Munro, M. J. (2002). Teaching native speakers to listen to foreign-accented speech. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development, 23(4), 245-259. https://doi.org/10.1080/01434630208666468

Ethnologue. (February 21, 2022). The most spoken languages worldwide in 2022 (by speakers in millions) [Graph]. In Statista. Retrieved April 17, 2023, from https://www.statista.com/statistics/266808/the-most-spoken-languagesworldwide/

Kachru, Y., & Smith, L. E. (2008). Cultures, contexts, and world Englishes. Routledge.

https://doi.org/10.4324/9780203891346

Kang, O., & Rubin, D. L. (2012). Intergroup contact exercises as a tool for mitigating undergraduates’ attitudes toward non-native English-speaking teaching assistants. Journal on Excellence in College Teaching, 23(3), 159-166.

Tamburelli, M. (2021). Taking taxonomy seriously in linguistics: Intelligibility as a criterion of demarcation between languages and dialects. Lingua, 256. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.lingua.2021.103068

The Silencing of Women’s Struggles: A Feminist Analysis of the Movie

Everything, Everywhere, All at Once

TAO ZIYUE

Released in 2022, the Oscar-winning film Everything Everywhere All at Once centers around a Chinese American woman’s heroic multiverse adventure. The film delves into the themes of feminism, motherhood, and migrant experiences, and explores the concept “Wu wei’’ from Chinese philosophy. “Wu wei’’ can be roughly translated to “non-action.” Drawn from Daoism, Wu wei stands for a desired neutral mentality and personal harmony (Laozi). In the film, the protagonist’s husband, Waymond, is the one who exhibits this state of mind. In contrast, the protagonist, Evelyn, is the character of action. The message of the film seems to promote the mindset of Wu wei as a means to fight against nihilism. Thereby, Waymond is portrayed as a man of wisdom, while Evelyn appears to struggle with obtaining peace of mind. In this essay, I will discuss the relationship between Waymond’s non-action and Evelyn’s action and explain why privileging Waymond’s philosophy would be a partial interpretation of the film that ignores the silencing of women’s struggles. Following a deeper analysis, I will argue that Waymond is able to practice Wu wei because of his male privilege, whereas Evelyn’s experiences are complicated by her womanhood and immigrant status, which make her activity, such as her gendered domestic duties, inevitable and necessary. Drawing on the theoretical frameworks of ‘otherness’ in Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex and Kimberle Crenshaw’s theory of intersectionality, I will examine the triple-bind ‘othering’ experience of Chinese female immigrants, highlighting the intersectionality of gender, race, and migration.

Centering around the themes of gender and migration, the film vividly depicts the triple-bind othering experience that leads to the collective silencing of immigrant women shuttling between two cultures. The protagonist of the film, Evelyn Wang, is a first-generation Chinese immigrant

to the US, living a mundane life occupied by menial responsibilities for her small business and family. She was born into a traditional Chinese household with a strong preference for sons over daughters; her life is immediately characterized by the lamentable apology made by the midwife at the very moment she was born: “I’m sorry, it’s a girl. (00:14:09)” This is in keeping with the argument that de Beauvoir makes about male privilege. She points out that, rather than being seen symmetrically, man and woman are seen in relative terms. Specifically, man is the subject, the absolute. The woman, on the other hand, is positioned against the male default and deemed the other, or, in St. Thomas’s terms, an “imperfect man” (15). The othering of her female status continues at later stages of her life. Much like cycles of metamorphosis, Evelyn’s identity experienced the transformation from the daughter of her father to the wife of her husband to the mother of her daughter. As a woman, her multiple othered identities drive her into draining physical and mental responsibilities. To meet the standard of a dutiful daughter, wife, and mother, the amount of work she needs to do every day never gives her a second to breathe in her own identity. In the film, when the Waymond from another universe tells her that the world needs a savior, Evelyn looks confused and exhausted, and with self-doubt arising like a knee-jerk reaction, she asks in disbelief, “And you think it’s me? (00:37:37)” Drowned in endless errands, Evelyn is so used to undertaking mundane tasks for her family that she fails or even automatically refuses to acknowledge her own potential as a leader rather than the laborer.

In addition to her gendered domestic struggles, Evelyn confronts difficulties and complexities as a racial minority in the US. Again, the othering through the discrimination experienced by Evelyn as the racial and cultural minority can be understood by de Beauvoir’s concept of woman of color as a racial minority. De Beauvoir delineates womanhood as a situation: “One is not born, but rather becomes a woman (13).” This concept can also be applied to ethnic minorities and immigrants. Similarly, being a minority in society can also be seen as a situation. Against the white, Western default, minority culture automatically becomes the niche, or, more bluntly, the inferior. Therefore, the minority always have to make the extra effort to justify their culture and identity in the destination; oftentimes, there is also the need to stay

silent regarding their own identity in order to conform to the mainstream. Otherwise, their rights and voices would be readily denied by the dominant cultural default.

In her Ted Talk, The Urgency of Intersectionality, Kimberle Crenshaw argues that multiple forms of oppression against different social identities can overlap and intersect in complex ways, resulting in unique experiences of discrimination and disadvantage (10:50). Crenshaw’s observation is manifested in Evelyn’s journey in the film, as she navigates through layers of identity and experiences the multifaceted nature of oppression. The uneasiness associated with her racial identity is omnipresent in the story. From the customer’s scornful reaction to her carefully planned Chinese party (00:10:40) to the lecturing, condescending tone of the tax accountant (00:20:28), the film realistically captures the micro-racism in US society, which contributes to the second othering of Evelyn’s identity.

The immigrant experience is the third othering of Evelyn’s identity, which further complicates de Beauvoir’s and Crenshaw’s theories. Migration signifies the departure from one’s own culture. Different from her racial identity, which is shared among her Chinese immigrant community, the migration experience can be extended to be generational, which makes the dominance of the destination culture an overwhelming pressure within a family. As a first-generation immigrant, Evelyn faces unique challenges that are distinct from those encountered by second-generation immigrants, such as her daughter. For example, when facing her daughter’s queerness, Evelyn needs to first adjust her cultural values, since the Western open-mindedness towards sexuality is never a part of the traditional Chinese culture in which she grew up. Meanwhile, she is also torn between her identities as mother and daughter. As Joy’s mother, she tries her best to accept Joy’s identity. Although she sometimes complains about Joy’s girlfriend, she still cooks for her and acknowledges their relationship. However, in front of her traditional, conservative Chinese father, Evelyn could only lie about Joy’s sexuality, introducing Joy’s girlfriend as her “good friend,” which displeases Joy. Rather than owning her own opinions and feelings, Evelyn could only react to the subjectivities of her daughter and her father, behaving in a way that

could best resolve the dilemmatic situation. As a first-generation immigrant, Evelyn has to accommodate the huge cultural gap within her family, which is mentally draining and compromises her own identity. Crenshaw uses the analogy of a person standing at the intersection of two roads to describe intersectionality (9:25). For Evelyn, cars are running from three directions. Social and cultural alienation occurs on her three identities: Woman, Chinese, and first-generation immigrant.

The triple-bind othering is further manifested in Evelyn’s life in the form of invisible labor, the intensity of which makes Evelyn the antonym of nonaction. Evelyn’s activity originates from her multiple, othered identities: dutiful daughter, wife, and mother. Therefore, unlike her unambitious husband, who seems perfectly content with everything in his mundane life, Evelyn is the one who is always busy taking care of their laundry business, their daughter, and her father, as well as socializing with the neighbors. In the latter part of the film, Evelyn is also more involved in the fight with Joy and affected by thoughts of nihilism than her husband. It is not until Waymond repeatedly urges her to “be kind” that Evelyn decides to take the heroic side and recognize the meaningfulness of life. “I’m learning to fight like you. (01:54:56)” testifies Evelyn, acknowledging Waymond’s wisdom. The underlying message seems to suggest that Evelyn had to undergo painful conflicts and struggles before finally reaching the same level of understanding of life that Waymond had already attained. This could be interpreted as rendering her distress and activity meaningless and immature in comparison.

A close analysis of the film using de Beauvoir’s and Crenshaw’s arguments of othering process and intersectional struggles shows us that simply considering Waymond as the wise character and Evelyn as the lesser would draw a misleading conclusion that overlooks the silenced struggles of women. de Beauvoir argues that women’s unique experiences and perspectives have often been ignored and dismissed in philosophy and other male-dominated fields of study, which leads to a lack of understanding and recognition of women’s contributions and experiences (21). While Waymond’s Wu wei

philosophy is a respectable solution to nihilism, his ability to practice it comes from the absence of his paternal and marital responsibilities. In other words, he experiences less othering, so he can consolidate his neutral worldview and not be too consumed by mundane activities, which are taken care of by Evelyn. Thereby, Waymond’s Wu wei can be considered a contributing factor to Evelyn’s high degree of activity. There is a scene in the film where, while Evelyn is burdened with business and familial responsibility, Waymond happily dances with a client in the most carefree way. “Sometimes I wonder how he would have survived without me. (00:08:09)” complains Evelyn, revealing that Waymond’s non-action worsens Evelyn’s life and pushes her into more menial tasks and mundane struggles. As the film promotes Waymond’s life philosophy, “When I choose to see the good side of things, I’m not being naive. It is strategic and necessary. It’s how I’ve learned to survive through everything. (01:45:43—01:45:55),” we must not forget the fact that, when he is looking at the good side of things, someone else, like Evelyn, must suffer the negative consequences of his positive outlook. As the tax accountant in the film remarks, “unlovable bitches like us make the world go round. (01:51:55)” The struggles and conflicts that Evelyn experiences as a female, a racial minority, and an immigrant are necessary for her to find and reclaim her identity and life, which Waymond was able to take for granted.

Through a feminist and intersectional lens, the portrayal of the concept Wu wei in the film Everything, Everywhere, All at Once is nuanced and reflects a female immigrant’s counteraction to the triple-bind othering process. As Simone de Beauvoir maintains, women must assert their own freedom and define themselves. Evelyn’s activity is a necessary effort to take control of her own life and reclaim her identity from the assignment of traditional roles by her Chinese cultural background and modern, working roles by US society. It is critical for us to acknowledge the unique challenges faced by socially marginalized groups, which are getting more and more complex in an increasingly globalized and mobilized world, and not let the hidden male privilege in the narrative go unnoticed.

WORKS CITED

Beauvoir, Simone de. The Second Sex, translated by H. M. Parshley, Johnathan Cape Thirty Bedford Square London, 2007.

Crenshaw, Kimberle. The Urgency of Intersectionality, TedWomen, 2016, https://www.ted.com/talks/kimberle_crenshaw_the_urgency_of_ intersectionality?language=en. Accessed 9 Apr. 2023.

Erken, Arthur. UNFPA, 2020, State of World Population 2020. https://www.unfpa. org/sites/default/files/pub-pdf/UNFPA_PUB_2020_EN_State_of_World_ Population.pdf. Accessed 7 Apr. 2023.

Kwan, Daniel and Daniel Scheinert, directors. Everything Everywhere All at Once, 2022, Accessed 2023.

Laozi, and Brook Ziporyn. Daodejing. Liveright Publishing Corporation, 2023.

This photograph showcases the ornate corridor of Chernivtsi National University, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, highlighting the stunning stained glass windows that depict Ukraine’s national anthem and the coat of arms, the golden trident. Established in 1875, the university has been a beacon of knowledge and culture, enduring through times of war and peace. The intricate stained glass windows are not just decorative elements; they symbolize the spirit and resilience of Ukraine. The national anthem and coat of arms reflect the deep-rooted pride and unwavering identity of the Ukrainian people. Walking through this corridor, one is reminded of the university’s historical significance and its role in fostering education and cultural heritage. Throughout its history, Chernivtsi National University has survived the trials of the Second World War and now faces new threats amid the ongoing war with Russia. This photograph captures more than just architectural beauty; it encapsulates a legacy of resilience and hope. The light streaming through the stained glass illuminates the path forward, a poignant reminder of the enduring power of education and the indomitable spirit of Ukraine.

“Heritage and Hope: The Heart of Chernivtsi National University”

by Yana Holovatska

Essay 3

The Pressure that Forms the Pearl: Examining the Powerful Narratives in Post-Conflict Sri Lanka

ANDREW SURENDRAN

From 1983 to 2009, Sri Lanka was embroiled in a bloody civil war between the government and the ethnic Tamil insurgent group known as the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE). The government in power when the war finally ended was led by President Mahinda Rajapaksa and his brother Gotabaya Rajapakse. While the LTTE was denounced and was widely accepted as a terrorist organization locally and abroad—the US State Department still maintains their designation today (United States Department of State, 2018)— the common sentiment in Sri Lanka post-war seemed in favor of the Rajapaksa administration, leading both the Rajapaksa brothers, and other members of the family, to maintain and renew their positions in government for years to come. Why then, when there was seemingly insurmountable evidence exposing the crimes committed by the Sri Lankan government during the war, was there minimal public pressure to bring the government to justice?

In this essay I argue that the narrative of “saviorhood” that was pushed onto the public by the Rajapaksa administration was paramount to this outcome of limited accountability. I will illustrate how and why this narrative was so successful by drawing on the theoretical and practical argumentation provided by Butler, Oakeshott, Boisen, McGratten and Hopkins, and others. By showing how this saviorhood narrative had so much currency, and subsequently so much power, I aim to illustrate how we must be exceedingly critical when we encounter such narratives of saviorhood in the status quo.

The United Nations estimated that around 100,000 people died in the sixteenyear-long Sri Lankan Civil War (‘Up to 100,000 Killed in Sri Lanka’s Civil War: UN’, 2009) with around 40,000 civilian casualties (United Nations Panel of Experts, 2011: 41). The United Nations’ Report of The Secretary-General’s Panel of Experts on Accountability In Sri Lanka documents many of the atrocities

committed during the war, most of which were not subject to the expected judicial process. The Sri Lankan army was accused of bombing multiple civilian areas, including hospitals (such as the Putumattalan hospital, the Vallipunam hospital, the PTK hospital and “virtually every hospital in the Vanni”) (United Nations Panel of Experts, 2011: 30, 23, 25, 23), violating No Fire Zones (instituted by the government themselves) (2011: 23), executing prisoners of war (2011: 43) (including LTTE leader Prabhakaran’s 14-yearold son (Buncombe, 2013)), raping and committing sexual violence (2011: 44), initiating a campaign of forced disappearances (2011: 43) (the “white van” became a symbol of the government’s widespread kidnapping of innocents (2011: 50)), detaining over 250,000 people in IDP camps (United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, 2021: 4) and torture (2011: 50). The current Sri Lankan president and prime minister during the war, Ranil Wickremesinghe, has been accused of being the authority behind the Batalanda detention center that allegedly tortured between 5,000 and 10,000 people (Kishali-Jayawardena, 2010: 96). The LTTE themselves were accused of recruiting child soldiers, “using civilians as a human buffer”, killing civilians through suicide attacks and killing civilians attempting to flee (United Nations Panel of Experts, 2011: 50-51). They are also widely credited as being the pioneers of modern suicide bombing (United Nations Panel of Experts, 2011: 9).

Despite the overwhelming evidence provided by the United Nations on the crimes committed during the civil war, little was done post-conflict to bring those in the government to justice. The government rejected the UN Panel of Experts Report on the humanitarian crisis during the war, calling it “patently biased” and “fundamentally flawed” (Haviland, 2011). According to a United Nations report published in 2021, “not a single emblematic case has been brought to a successful conclusion or resulted in a conviction”, with the Rajapaksa government “proactively” blocking investigations into past crimes (United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, 2021: 8).

In fact, one of Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s campaign promises in his run up to the 2019 election was to actually release “war heroes” who were being detained on “false” charges (‘Gotabaya Pledges to Release Imprisoned War Heroes by Nov. 17’, 2019), which he delivered on during his presidency, pardoning Staff Sgt. Sunil Ratnayake who was convicted of killing 8 Tamil civilians during

the war, three of whom were children (Abi-Habib and Bastians, 2020). The Sri Lankan government even withdrew from UN Resolution 40/1 “Promoting reconciliation, accountability and human rights in Sri Lanka”, because they wanted to pursue a “domestically designed and executed reconciliation and accountability process” (United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, 2021: 3). Two of the national commissions established, the “Lessons Learned and Reconciliation Commission” and the “Paranagama Commission”, did not adequately report on the crimes committed by the government (United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, 2021: 5). A presidential commission of inquiry into the “‘political victimization’ of public officials, members of the armed forces and the police and employees of State corporations” has repeatedly made the judicial process more difficult by intervening in cases and court proceedings, including in the prominent case of the murder of journalist Lasantha Wickrematunge who in 2008 was murdered weeks before he was to provide testimony against Gotabaya Rajapaksa (Butler, 2022).

The narrative that the government pushed about the war was one that painted themselves as the saviors of the Sri Lankan people from the evil LTTE. It is not in the scope of this paper to discuss whether the LTTE were justified in their cause, or even the ethics of insurgency in general, but for the purposes of our discussion it is important to recognize that in issues as complex as war, it is disingenuous at the very least to paint one side as being wholly innocent and the other as being wholly guilty. In the words of Orend, “War is a brutal and ugly enterprise” (Orend, 2008: 6) and therefore we must be ready to accept the possibility that both sides in war commit atrocities. But if we look at the narrative that the government pushed, it is clear to see that they did not want to take any of the blame for war crimes, instead pushing all guilt and responsibility onto the LTTE. For example, after the war Mahinda Rajapaksa stated that “we left no room for even one bullet to be fired against ordinary citizens” and Gotabaya Rajapaksa went on to describe the humanitarian measures the government undertook during the war, including imposing no-fire zones, making sure aid got to who needed it and making sure to ban air-bombing in areas with civilians (United Nations Panel of Experts, 2011: 48), despite the UN findings pointing to the exact opposite.

A token manifestation of this narrative is President Mahinda’s address to the Sri Lankan parliament after the war concluded. Paying particular attention to the language he uses gives us an important insight into the messaging Mahinda and the Rajapaksa government have sought to incorporate into public discourse. In the speech he begins to describe his “responsibility” of “protecting the Tamil people of this country” (Rajapaksa, 2009), despite the multitude of evidence pointing to his indiscriminate shelling of Tamil civilian areas. By siding himself alongside the Tamil people, especially at a time when anti-Tamil sentiment was high, he portrays himself as sympathetic, forgiving and a champion of all the people, a true patriot. This enables him to not be seen as “anti-Tamil”, appealing to the widely accepted moral position of condemning prejudice based on race and ethnicity, or at least the moral position that people are aware should be standard. Instead, he singles out the LTTE as being the threat, describing their “savage military tactics”, and contrasting them with the “disciplined” Sri Lankan army (Rajapaksa, 2009). By doing this, he is able to widen the “moral gap” between the government and the LTTE, which both makes it hard for people to believe the crimes the government committed (because it does not fit into what their idealized notion of who the government is) and rationalizing those crimes that they have no choice but to accept as being for the “greater good”. The moral gap creates a buffer in which the government can operate, as no action that they commit could ever make them as bad as the LTTE. This essentially gives the government free reign to do what they must for the greater good, even if that course of action results in more loss of life and more suffering than necessary.

This differential framing of the government and the LTTE has been very successful in influencing how the public perceived the war. Judith Butler says the “frame implicitly guides the interpretation” (Butler, 2009: 8) and so what the government did by framing the LTTE as this wholly bad entity and themselves as this wholly good entity was that they also influenced how people saw the LTTE’s goals of Tamil Eelam (the independence of the majority Tamil areas in the North and East). The LTTE’s actions, made worse by the framing provided by the government, also in turn became a frame for the motives of the LTTE. These motives, now seen through the frame of the LTTE’s actions, are then seen by the Sri Lankan people as unjust, which in turn

recursively paints the government in a good light for opposing these motives. In this way, the government’s framing of the LTTE served to “savior-ize” the government two-fold.

This framing also had the side effect of reducing, as Butler would put it, the “grievability” of Tamil civilians living in conflict zones in the North and East. Butler explains that if a life would be grieved when lost, it is considered “grievable” and therefore “grievability” is the quality of being able to grieve for a life, it is a “presupposition for the life that matters” (2009: 15). The framing of the LTTE through the government’s savior narrative made Tamil lives less grievable as their losses were seen as a necessary step to achieving the government’s objectives. In the minds of those living outside the North and East, the lives of those that do are not as significant, their communities less “precarious” (the quality of being able to be destroyed) in the face of the destruction of the embodiment of evil that is the LTTE. Therefore, the gravity of losing those lives, even in the tens of thousands, and the gravity of ordinarily morally unacceptable crimes such as torture and rape, become diminished. This again recursively feeds back into the people’s perception of the government, as now any crimes they have no choice but to accept as being committed by the government (such as those that they hear first-hand accounts about) are not as big of a deal, a necessary evil, which in turn maintains the perception of the government as being more innocent than the LTTE.

The frame itself is quite hard to break out of because the government has consistently been re-enforcing it over the years, not allowing people to even conceive thinking outside of it. The perception of the war that was born out of these frames becomes what Hopkins and Murphy refer to as “collective memory” (McGrattan and Hopkins, 2017). This collective memory is in essence the group perception of the past and how its events played out, irrespective of whether they are accurate to what happened. As McGratten and Hopkins describe, “the counter-memories of non-dominant groups… may be forgotten, ignored or pushed aside when they are not easily assimilated into the overarching group-understanding” (2017: 489). This, in essence, is the current situation in Sri Lanka, with Tamil civilians in the North and East continually pressuring the government to investigate the crimes committed during the

war, especially families who have lost members to forced disappearances (Ganguly, 2021), while the majority in Colombo (the capital) and the rest of Sri Lanka seek to push memories of the war from memory as the stories of these Tamils do not easily assimilate into the group understanding of how the war occurred. To recognize and validate the sentiments of those who are still calling for justice in the North is to recognize that there was injustice in the North, which is an uncomfortable truth to face for those who re-elected the perpetrators of that suffering back into power.

A dominant narrative that can be seen post-war is that of the “hero”. If we go back to Rajapaksa’s speech, we can see that he makes continued references to the Sri Lankan heroes Keppettipola and Puran Appu as well as kings Vimaladharmasuriya, Mayadunne and Rajasingha I, comparing their struggles against colonial powers and imperialism to his struggle against fighting the LTTE (Rajapaksa, 2009). This language of association is quite powerful and serves to paint the Rajapaksas in the same brush as these heroes who have been immortalized because their cause (of independence) is, in the eyes of the Sri Lankan people, objectively good. Therefore, in some sense, this comparison can be seen as having a twofold benefit, both legitimizing Mahinda the individual and his actions. It is interesting that Mahinda chose to refer to Sri Lanka’s colonial past in order to legitimize his cause and character, as the saviorhood narrative that his government has been pushing is similar to how Western nations legitimized their occupation. Camilla Boisen has discussed how colonizers used the idea of “terra nullius” to justify their seizure of land overseas (Boisen, 2017: 1). She argues that the current landscape of South African property rights has been fundamentally shaped by these colonial ideas and prejudices. I make the argument that, in the same way that the manifestation of certain colonial ideas (such as in property rights and land ownership) can assimilate so deeply into society, the ideas and the sentiments behind those ideas also become deeply assimilated into these post-colonial societies.

The sentiment behind terra nullius and European powers being able to establish “civil society, or sovereignty” to “cultivate in safety” (Boisen, 2017: 1) is that it is morally justifiable for governments and those in power to cause

suffering and disenfranchise populations if it is for the greater good, or at least their notion of what the greater good is. It is apparent that the European’s “terra nullius” justification, that they had God-ordained responsibility to cultivate empty land, was a pretext to occupation and expanding their power. However, the way their occupation was framed, and how imperialism has been framed throughout history, has overwhelmingly been as being for the good of those being colonized. In essence, European powers “gift-wrapped” their oppression. Therefore, in the same way that the land-rights in South Africa were able to be so fundamentally distorted by colonial rule, the sentiment of those in power being able to have free rein in what they can do also trickles down to post-colonial nations, becoming legitimized over time (as ‘terra-nullius’ was in South Africa) and becoming what Oakeshott describes as a “myth”. Oakeshott describes myths as an “imaginative story of how it [society] came to be what it is, including that society’s imagined conception of its manner of government and of being governed” (Boucher, 2015: 129). The wrapping of oppression as necessary and justifiable has become legitimate and the norm in post-colonial societies. This “myth” offers an explanation as to why the Sri Lankan people were so ready to accept what the government did in the North. After 600 years of colonization, the Sri Lankan people had become desensitized to oppression as they have been almost indoctrinated with the idea that oppression is justifiable in the face of the greater good.

Finally, going back to Mahinda’s speech, the language he uses in his address is often quite inclusive and patriotic. He talks about no external country being “able to subdue this country” and that “the people have always risen” (Rajapaksa, 2009). By painting the victory of the war as being a collective effort, Mahinda invokes both a sense of communal pride and shared responsibility. By painting his actions as being the will of the people, he reduces his culpability, sharing both the victory and the methods he used to get there with his supporters. If he and the government are “one of the people” they are able to avoid condemnation and prosecution as there exists no political will to implicate your own. This interesting dichotomy that Mahinda creates in this speech, portraying himself as an individual alongside notable historical figures as well as part of a whole is quite convincing and essentially “covers all his bases” in terms of credit and culpability.

Even over a decade after the war’s conclusion, many have not received the justice or the punishment they deserved. In this paper I illustrated how the war government’s saviorhood narrative was so effective in achieving this outcome, especially given Sri Lanka’s status as a post-colonial nation. Having done so, I hope to contribute to a greater discussion on the power that these saviorhood narratives can hold and the currency that they can have over time and how therefore we must be exceedingly critical when they are invoked in public discourse. If we analyze emblematic cases, such as the recent 2003 US invasion of Iraq or NATO’s bombing of Kosovo, we see this narrative of saviorhood continuously being invoked, either implicitly or explicitly. With the case of Sri Lanka, as a non-western nation, it is easier to identify when the government was being manipulative and have moral outrage about their insidious motives. But are we also able to do the same for western nations, who are supposedly the moral guides of society? Are we truly able to separate our idealized notions of their standards of morality and recognize when they are being insidious? I have shown how the saviorhood narrative can become so hard to break out of to illustrate how these narratives can still be in play in places where we may not see them. The question then becomes: are we able to question our own prejudices and ask ourselves whether we too have been duped?

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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The Russia-Ukraine War: the Final Death Blow to the Concept of Genocide?

JULIA OLESZYNSKA

Over the past century, “genocide” has been embedded into the canon of moral vocabulary as an “act that shocks the conscience of humankind” (Walzer, 2002: 29). Referred to as a “crime of crimes,” “genocide” carries the burden of its greatest significance as a legal term; opens a summary of the hierarchy of crimes; and sets the standard for understanding the institutions of evil, justice, and retribution (Moses, 2021: 1). As a society, we have been socialized to view “genocide” as an established, shared norm that serves as a moral guidepost both in everyday life and in the world of “big politics,” where even someone like Vladimir Putin not only recognizes the concept but perhaps even values it.

However, this universal nature of “genocide” and positioning it as superior to all other crimes leaves room for its misuse. Since the term “genocide” was coined by Raphael Lemkin in 1943, there has been mounting controversy over its legality, gravity, applicability, and conceptual coherence. Leading genocide scholar, Dirk Moses, has gone so far as to denounce it as The Problems of Genocide (Moses, 2021). Christian Asbø Nielsen is another scholar who has challenged the counterproductive approach to the dichotomous “genocide or not” debate because it distracts attention from the crime itself (2013). The “genocide” debate, however, does not take place only on a theoretical level. Modern history and the current political scene of armed conflict provide a plethora of examples of the misuse of the concept of “genocide” in practice. The weaponization of “genocide” as a tool to achieve political objectives, such as the construction of a national identity based on the claim of the victimhood of “genocide,” which ultimately leads to legitimizing mass violence carried out in the name of “self-defense” in the 1980s during the Balkan Wars, is just one of them (Morus, 2007). Similarly,

the ongoing Russia-Ukraine War has brought to light a multitude of problems, controversies, and abuses surrounding the concept of “genocide,” placing them at the forefront of public discourse. This heightened attention was fueled by the interest of scholars and public opinion. This, in turn, leads us to reconsider the implications of the term “genocide,” which is still one of the most contentious in global memory politics. One of them, which does not seem to be discussed often, is the question of whether the piling up of abuses and the endless “genocide or not” debate mean that “genocide” as a concept has exhausted its moral normativity. Has not the discussion around the concept obscured its entire moral meaning, implying that “genocide” has been stripped of its moral value, saturated to the point where it has become, in a sense, morally vacuous and redundant? If so, what is left if there is no standard for the “crime of crimes?”

This essay seeks to answer this question by examining the evolution of Lemkin’s notion of “genocide,” the scholarly debate, and the criticism of the concept of “genocide”. I pay particular attention to the debate sparked by the Russia-Ukraine War and how “genocide” has been misused by becoming a bargaining chip in the hands of political leaders, as illustrated through the example of Vladimir Putin’s speech on February 24, 2022. Although the purpose of this essay is not to determine whether the atrocities taking place during the Russia-Ukraine War can be considered “genocide,” I argue that the Russia-Ukraine War may be the final death blow to “genocide” as a concept because when the concept of “genocide” gets mislabeled, the meaning of its content is taken away and it loses its value as a moral language and perhaps even as a moral norm. I conclude with the suggestion that the place of the new moral standard can be taken by the concept of R2P, Responsibility to Protect, as described by Luke Glanville.

The evolution of Lemkin’s notion of “genocide”

Premeditated mass murders, deportations, and the intentional destruction of cultural sites, educational facilities and history textbooks are the building blocks of the definition of “barbarity and vandalism” coined by Raphael Lemkin in 1933. This concept, in turn, laid the foundation for the establishment of the term “genocide” by Lemkin in 1943. This pivotal

moment coincided with World War II shifting the focus of Lemkin’s interest from mass murders on peaceful civilians to the deaths of civilians during the war (Etkind, 2022). In one of his essays, by unraveling Nazi practices in Germany, Lemkin raised the question of whether state sovereignty is equivalent to the right of a government to kill its own citizens, or whether this is considered an international crime, like piracy (Lemkin, 1944). In an attempt to answer this question, he came up with the idea of establishing “barbarity and vandalism” as two new international crimes, which sparked the process of reconsideration of international law. Not everyone liked it. As early as 1935, Andrey Vyshinsky, the Chief Prosecutor of the USSR, claimed that “Lemken,” as he contemptuously called him, had created the concept of “barbarity and vandalism” in order to legitimize counter-revolutionary intrusion in the internal affairs of other states (Vyshinsky, 1935). Just two years after the term “barbarity and vandalism” was introduced, voices began to emerge seeking to manipulate and exploit the concept as a political tool. This did not stop Lemkin, who just a decade later for the first time recognized the combination of mass murder and cultural destruction that took place in the Baltics as “genocide.” However, as it later turned out, the current wording of the definition of “genocide” was influenced by Soviet, British, and French officials who, in 1948, redrafted the text of the UN Convention on Genocide so that “the passage of international law (...) could not be applied to them.” Given the scant support for Lemkin at that time, he had no choice but to agree to the amendments (Irvin-Erickson, 2022).

In Lemkin’s understanding, “genocide” consists of two stages: the destruction of the “national pattern,” understood as identity and institutions, of the oppressed group, followed by the imposition of the oppressor’s “national pattern,” as a result of which the oppressed group can either be exterminated or allowed to stay on the land. In the latter case, Lemkin emphasizes that although the people will survive, their “patterns” will be destroyed and replaced, which can be compared to “colonization”: either settler colonialism (outside the borders of the mother country) or internal colonization (within the borders of the mother country), both of which often lead to mass murders (Lemkin, 1944). This raises an important question about “genocide” per se: whether the gravity of murdering people

can be weighed and compared to the gravity of murdering their national “pattern”?

Here is the catch. For the most part, the oppressor and the oppressed differ along many dimensions: geographically, racially, economically, culturally, religiously, and linguistically. These differences serve the interest of the oppressor, as they shape the patterns of imperial rule. However, looking at the recent examples of the Balkan Wars and the Russia-Ukraine War, a new pattern emerges: there is little to no difference between the “national patterns” of the oppressor and the oppressed. According to Lemkin’s definition, there is no genocide without clear “national patterns,” which does not mean that minor differences are not exploited for purposes other than genocide and reduce the extent or atrocity of mass murder (Lemkin, 1944). On the contrary, the smaller the differences, the greater the genocide, because it then resembles collective suicide. The so-called “genocide of minor differences” finds its roots in Freud’s concept of “narcissism of minor differences,” which assumes that we are separated from others by bubbles of privacy that we constantly violate through interactions with others who differ from us. However, if another person is too closely similar, we react with surprise and animosity. The same is true of interactions between countries and groups within them, since those who are similar and related to each other tend to engage in constant feuds (Freud, 1961).

Drawing on Freud’s notion of “narcissism of minor differences,” Etkind states that “narcissism turned small differences into big egos, and those led to mass murders” (Etkind, 2022). “Narcissism of small differences” in itself does not directly lead to genocide and does not explain mass murder. It does, however, explain the creation of the story that justifies genocide. Ignatieff argues that in both cases of the Balkan Wars and the Russia-Ukraine War, one of the main factors in the mass and mutual killings is the long-standing manipulation of public sentiment around the “them” part of the “us” and “them” binary dichotomy (Etkind, 2022). Contrary to what we might expect, genocide begins with mass killings and ends with conjecture about minor differences. It is only when genocide occurs that both sides try to explain it away, turning minor differences into major, overwhelming narratives (Etkind, 2022).

The critique of the concept of “genocide”

Due to the complicated nature of the concept of “genocide,” there are more and more questions and fewer and fewer answers. The RussiaUkraine War is a flashpoint for a renewed debate on “genocide,” with many prominent scholars joining in. In his book The Problems of Genocide , Dirk Moses, criticizes Lemkin’s notion of “genocide” for being too narrow. He argues that by referring to “genocide” as a “crime of crimes,” which, given its greatest gravity as a legal term, sits atop the ladder of the hierarchy of crimes, the international criminal vocabulary becomes paralyzed and distracts the attention from other crimes of mass violence, torture and murder. He proposes a new concept of “permanent security,” which explains the desire of states and other actors seeking to establish states, to become immune to threats. To solve “ the problems of genocide ,” Moses argues, “permanent security” should be criminalized to replace “genocide” (Moses, 2021). Christian Asbø Nielsen focuses on an unproductive aspect of the contemporary approach to the topic of “genocide.” He points out that the dichotomy between “genocide” or “no genocide” obscures the main problem facing the international community: “genocide” per se. In line with Walzer’s assertions, he believes that “genocide” should not be approached by degrees. It should be perceived as a chasm between common nastiness and “genocide” (Walzer, 2002; Asbø Nielsen, 2013).

Alexander Etkind, on the other hand, points out another aspect: at no point does Lemkin distinguish between the deontological definition of the crime of “genocide,” which includes the features that constitute genocide, and the consequential definition, which talks about how genocide is or should be appropriately punished so that it never happens again, as he sought to combine the two definitions and adapt them to the political realities. However, political realities are changing and this leads to an interesting observation. The dilemma Lemkin faced in 1933 is the same one we face today: deontologically, the atrocities of the Russia-Ukraine War are acts of barbarity and vandalism, but consequentially, they are not exposed and punished acts of genocide (Etkind, 2022). Etkind also enters into a polemic with the author of “ The Problems of Genocide .” He stresses that what Moses calls “transgressive” diverts attention from the deontological view

of “genocide” and suggests that the pre-war concept of “barbarity and vandalism” is better suited to the challenges of our time (Etkind, 2022).

Shpend Kursani sheds light on yet another track of discussion regarding the intricacies of the concept of “genocide.” Using the example of the RussiaUkraine War in its initial phase, two further lines of discourse emerged: “the defensive debate” and “the offensive debate.” The first phase (“the defensive debate”) centered around claims, such as “ Ukraine did not… ,” and was meant to prevent and stop “genocide” on Russian-speaking communities in Ukraine perpetrated by the “Russophobic Nazi” Ukrainian government. The debate since the Bucha massacre has taken on the character of “the offensive debate” revolving around claims like “ Russia did… ” which were Russia’s response to the atrocities and an attempt to bring justice and punish the perpetrators on Ukrainian territory (Kursani, 2022).

The misuse of “genocide” in practice: the Russia-Ukraine War case study

In the pages of history, we have seen numerous instances of abuse of the concept of “genocide,” including the weaponization and politicization of “genocide” as a tool for pursuing multiple political objectives, ultimately leading to the normalization of mass violence. The Russia-Ukraine War only provides us with further examples of the modern misuse of “genocide” as an ideologized term invoked as a tool for the moral legitimization of aggression (Butler, 2009). We can look at it through the prism of Vladimir Putin’s prerecorded speech, broadcast on February 24, 2022, in which he announced the launch of “a special military operation” (Putin, 2022). The speech is unique, and its uniqueness lies, among other things, in explaining and justifying the coming atrocities before they even took place. In his speech, Putin implements several rhetorical constructions, genocidal tropes that include: viewing the disputed territory as terra nullius , a virgin land without a “national pattern;” portraying the aggression as a response to previous “genocide;” demolishing the memory of the previous “national pattern;” and stretching the minor differences. He aims to defend Russia from external threats and stop “genocide” against Russians in Ukraine. Putin, in his obsessive speech bordering on resentment towards the West, uses the same

words US leaders employed when they announced the invasion of Iraq in 2003. He stresses that NATO’s eastward expansion threatens the national security and territorial integrity of Russia, who is forced into self-defense.

At the very beginning of the speech, Putin points out the biggest threat to Russia’s security created by “irresponsible Western politicians,” which is “the eastward expansion of NATO.” According to the theory of offensive realism, states rank survival, understood as both maintaining a state’s national integrity and preserving the autonomy of a state’s policy-making process, as their most important objective (Mearsheimer, 2014). Putin deliberately crafts his narrative to show that NATO threatens Russia’s security and integrity (“expansion”), making Russia compelled to defend itself after failed attempts at negotiations (“we have been patiently trying to come to an agreement”) and exhausting all legitimate alternatives to the use of military force. He is equally undiplomatic about the politicians themselves, stressing that Western leaders only use “cynical deception and lies or attempts at pressure and blackmail,” which Putin sees as a commitment problem, one of Blattman’s reasons for war (Blattman, 2022), for which the West will have to pay a high price, which is peace.

Drawing on the experience of the collapse of the Soviet Union, he emphasizes that he cannot allow a repeat of the paralysis of power, as it leads to “complete degradation and oblivion,” for which he blames the US, to which he refers as “the empire of lies.” Putin wants to defend not only Russia, but “the entire system of international relations” against this, sometimes even including “US allies.” He thus intends to act in the name of world order as a redeemer, as one who, by virtue of his values, is able to protect the entire world community.

Putin then invokes examples of violations of international law with military operations by Western countries, with particular emphasis on the US. He begins by bringing up the bombing of Belgrade, which he refers as “a bloody military operation,” and uses it to justify the bombing of Kyiv, which, perversely, “began with the destruction of the television tower” just as in Belgrade in 1999 (Gorris, 2022). Interestingly, he employs the same rhetorical trope here that he uses to call the invasion of Ukraine “a special military

operation.” Putin builds broad analogies and parallels between the genocide in Srebrenica and the “genocide” in Donbas, and the Balkan Wars of the 1990s, with a particular focus on Kosovo, and Russia-Ukraine War. In this way, he legitimizes not only the reflection and the mimicking of the rhetoric but also the Serbs’ behaviors during the Balkan Wars. Obsessed with Western justifications for interventions elsewhere, Putin points out, speaking disdainfully and indulgently, that “some Western colleagues prefer to forget” about the “illegal use of military power” in Iraq, Libya and Syria, with which he intends to arouse public outrage at the international community’s silence and inconsistency in punishing illegal and illegitimate military actions of Western powers that led to the “tragedy.”

Putin points out that the same thing could happen to Russia. He stresses that the US, with which he identifies the entire Western bloc, has already “sought to destroy our traditional values and force on us their false values,” that is, to destroy the old and impose a new “national pattern,” which Lemkin refers as the two stages of “genocide.” Now that the West is trying to take over Ukraine through NATO expansion, Russia “cannot stay idle and passively observe these developments,” as happened at a great cost during World War II and “will not make this mistake the second time.” By saying this, Putin puts Russia in the position of a victim of “genocide,” which makes it possible to recognize the nation and all of its constituent lives as politically grievable (Butler, 2009). This, in turn, provides moral legitimacy for aggression, since the concept of “genocide” presupposes that one of the parties is a victim and thus has the right to self-defense (Moses, 2021).

Putin refers to Ukraine as “territories adjacent to Russia,” “our historical land,” without assigning it its own geopolitical identity, thus treating it as terra nullius , a no man’s land. However, he sees interference in this no man’s land as a direct attack on Russia, making the current situation “a matter of life and death” for Russia, a threat to the “existence of our state and to its sovereignty,” which implies that he treats the violation of the integrity of Ukrainian territory as a violation of Russia’s sovereignty. This is also the first time Putin uses the name “Ukraine.” This strategy is deliberate, by means of which he deprives Ukraine of its agency. Putin thus indicates that the

“national pattern” of Ukraine was destroyed earlier, by the Americans. In his understanding, if the pattern was destroyed, then “genocide” was also committed. And those with no agency can be killed without further notice.

As “the red line” has been crossed, invoking the UN Charter, Putin announces “a special military operation” as a response to the ongoing “genocide of the millions of people (...) perpetrated by the Kiev regime” in Donbas, which he considers an autonomous republic. However, according to the authorities of the “Donetsk People’s Republic,” there are neither millions of Russians nor “genocide” in Donbas (Etkind, 2022). Putting it this way, Putin makes it clear that his main motivation is to respond to the previous “genocide,” for which he blames Ukraine, and “stop the atrocity” in a Responsibility to Protect (R2P) fashion. He sees it as his lofty goal not only to “demilitarize and denazify Ukraine,” but also to hold the perpetrators accountable and punish them, which fits the consequential definition of “genocide.” The trope of Nazification, though it appears out of the blue, is crucial. If Russians and Ukrainians share only minor differences, but Ukrainians are Nazis, that makes them fundamentally different. Moreover, the trauma of World War II was invoked as a prelude to the Srebrenica genocide during the Balkan Wars in the 1990s. Now, bearing the memory regime in mind, Putin does the same: a prelude to the genocide in Ukraine. As stresses Kursani: “If we speak about what Putin is mimicking or mirroring in the Balkans, it is not his analogies he draws with his words, but his intentions with deeds,” and it is this that we should be particularly careful about (Kursani, 2022).

Conclusion

The Russia-Ukraine War reveals that we are on the verge of a paradigm shift in the discourse of “genocide,” which can seem like a semantic farce of “genocide.” The modern understanding of “genocide,” which used to be the moral standard both as a normatively moral term and as a linguistically moral one, is saturated with its abuses, controversies and all the weaknesses that cripple the system of international relations. The Russia-Ukraine War proved that these include: the problem of recognizing the identity of the victims and distinguishing their “national pattern,” which leads

to the so-called “genocide of minor differences;” the poisonous misuse of the instrumentalization of international law by powerful states; the manipulation of victimhood of “genocide” so as to legitimize aggression in the name of “self-defense” and the administration of justice (duty to “prevent and punish”), among others. When such a powerful moral term as “genocide” is mislabeled; becomes a bargaining chip, as well as a politicized and weaponized tool for pursuing immoral political objectives; the value is taken away from its content and “genocide” becomes morally vacuous. Therefore, the Russia-Ukraine War and all the related abuses of “genocide” have been the last straw that broke the camel’s back and dealt the final death blow to “genocide” as a concept that sets a moral standard. If it is true, what are we left with? One alternative might be the concept of R2P, Responsibility to Protect, and Luke Glanville’s discussion around it. This idea extends the responsibility to protect people from atrocities beyond their borders and emphasizes that it “should not be expected to offer a response to all global injustices.” Glanville’s assumption that positive duties to share responsibility are imperfect connects the theoretical framework to reality and shapes the space of moral pragmatism for R2P. Glanville underscores the fact that R2P is not just about intervening in severe cases of “genocide,” but also entails a strong commitment to prevention (Glanville, 2021). By assigning the responsibility of preventing, intervening, and notably, rebuilding, to both the state and global community, it helps tackle issues associated with the “genocide” discourse, such as overly restrictive definitions, “genocide or not” debate, and a focus away from other crimes, thus broadening the mandate beyond intervention to also include prevention and reconstruction. Therefore, the concept of R2P supported by Glanville’s interpretation and development of the doctrine could potentially supersede “genocide” as the prevailing international standard due to its comprehensive approach to mass atrocities and its commitment to long-term stability and justice, extending from prevention and intervention to post-conflict reconstruction.

WORKS CITED

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Glanville, Luke, Sharing Responsibility: The History and Future of Protection from Atrocities (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 2021).

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This striking black and white portrait captures the essence of contemporary Maasai culture in Kajiado, Kenya. The subject, the son of a Maasai tribal doctor, embodies a fascinating blend of tradition and modernity. His strong profile, etched against the soft blur of nature, commands attention. Traditional beaded necklaces cascade down his chest, offering a vibrant contrast to the simple, draped cloth across his shoulder. A small twig rests between his lips, a common sight in rural Kenya. This young man stands at a crucial juncture, poised to inherit the mantle of healer from his aging father. Soon, the entire village’s well-being will rest in his hands, underscoring the enduring importance of traditional medicine in Maasai culture. Captured during a traveler’s journey of cultural immersion, the image speaks to the weight of ancestral knowledge this young man carries in his bearing, bridging past and present.

“The Young Healer” by

Mariam Almagboul

Pakistan’s Power Dynamics and the Proliferation of Violence: A Case Study of Blasphemy Laws

MANAHIL FAISAL

Swipe, a 14-minute Pakistani animated film, shows a dystopian future where a young boy, among others, is addicted to ‘iFatwa’, an app that crowdsources religious death sentences. By swiping right, you can declare someone wajibul-qatl (deserving of death) and by swiping left, you can forgive them. The more swipe rights you do, the higher up you get on the Ajar (reward) board. The cases on iFatwa range from a woman making posters for Aurat March — the annual women’s march — to a man not forwarding religious WhatsApp text messages. The young boy consistently swipes right, only to find his own house being burnt and ransacked by a mob of vigilantes deriving their authority from iFatwa. As jarring as this spectacle of mob violence is, this satirical future is not too far from Pakistan’s present. Since 1987, 1303 people have been accused of blasphemy, of which 86 have been extrajudicially killed and 30 injured (Muhammad). What is more concerning is that the cycle of violence extends beyond mere accusations of blasphemy; in fact, the parameters of blasphemous speech now include questioning or advocating for changes to the blasphemy law. In 2017, Tehreek-e-Labaik Pakistan (TLP), a far-right religious organization, orchestrated a 20-day blockade of a key interchange in Islamabad, in response to a minor alteration made to the revised electoral oath. TLP accused the law minister of blasphemy, citing the omission of a reference to the Prophet in the revised oath, and demanded his resignation. As the protests demanding his resignation intensified and the potential for violence to spread grew, the government suspended private news channels and blocked Twitter. It was only with the resignation of the law minister that the protests ended. In instances like these where there is a real fear of subversion, the government finds itself in a state of siege by far-right extremists. Such phenomenon illustrates what Pakistani author Sana Ashraf calls the existence of “multiple sovereignties” (152), the concept

that sovereignty is not only limited to far-right political organizations but also extends to local clerics, whereby most cases of blasphemy-related vigilante violence can be traced back to some fatwa issued by a cleric. The pertinent question here is what has led to the creation of these multiple sovereignties. In answering this, I primarily use Pakistan’s history to analyze the power relations that set the framework for blasphemy laws. Building on this analysis, I argue that Pakistan’s state, in legitimizing its power through various ideological apparatuses, has created multiple proxies where its own monopoly on violence is no longer absolute.

Pakistan has spent three decades under direct military rule with the military exerting substantial influence over electoral outcomes even during civilian governance. Pakistani Sociologist Hamza Alavi, in talking about the state structure in post-colonial states, contends that colonization requires the colonial powers to accomplish an “additional task specific to the colonial situation” (61). They cannot just replicate the superstructure of the state that is established in the colonizing country itself; rather, they have “to create state apparatus through which they can exercise dominion over all the indigenous social classes in the colony” (61). The colonizing state’s need to exercise force to maintain its legitimacy, according to Alavi, has led to the colonial state being “equipped with a powerful bureaucraticmilitary apparatus” (61), which the post-colonial state inherits. Alavi’s analysis largely applies to Pakistan, where its military dominates the state. In trying to legitimize its power and influence over civilian institutions, the military has instrumentalized political Islam, branding it as a way to defend “Pakistan’s ideological frontiers” (Haqqani 50), forming a nexus with religious factions. In doing so, the military has significantly shaped the power relations that currently dictate the violence associated with blasphemy.

Pakistan has been contending with whether it constitutes an ‘ideological state’ rooted in Islam since its first attempt at drafting a constitution in 1949 (Haqqani). The military has capitalized on the narrative of Pakistan being an Islamic state positioning itself against the “Hindu India” (Haqqani 18) to feed into what French philosopher Louis Althusser describes as an

‘ideological state apparatus’ in order to consistently produce conditions that legitimize its power. Althusser posits that ideological state apparatus helps uphold the state superstructure — which comprises social institutions and political structures (91). Ideological state apparatus, according to him, is a part of the “private domain” (91) and functions largely through institutions like the family, church, media, or law (96). Ideological apparatuses produce conditions that legitimize the regime. These conditions seep into private domains and are internalized by people. While ideas of defending Pakistan’s ‘ideological frontiers’ became more formalized around 1971 — following the independence of Bangladesh — when the military started using Islam to formulate state nationalism (Badry 102), it became more pertinent during the military dictator Zia ul-Haq’s regime.

Zia’s introduction of Islamization and capitalization of militant Islam not only streamlined and militarized religious factions but also led to the widespread proliferation of madrassas that were often used as bases for training militants. Zia’s regime instrumentalized the ideological state apparatus alongside the repressive apparatus. To sustain the war in Afghanistan, Zia ul-Haq capitalized on jihadist sentiments and effectively supplemented them with a program of Islamization. He used mosques, media, and education as ideological state apparatuses to mainstream Wahabist Islam and transform Pakistan into an ‘Islamic state’. During his tenure, the blasphemy laws in Pakistan were strengthened through the introduction of Section 295-C and Section 295-A. Under Section 295-C, the offense of using derogatory remarks in respect of the Holy Prophet was made punishable by death. The provision makes it a non-bailable offense under the Constitution of Pakistan, with the minimum punishment being life imprisonment. While Section 295-A prescribes a sentence of three to five years for insulting the Prophet’s wives or companions (Chapter XV, Pakistan Penal Code). Both sections are ambiguous on the definition of “derogatory,” put the burden of proof on the accused, rely on word of mouth as evidence, and lack the essential component of intent. These loopholes gave more power to the religious right and opened more gateways to violence against religious minorities, whereby deciding what constitutes an offense under these sections was now under the jurisdiction of the accuser. The

introduction of these laws led to a massive rise in the number of blasphemy cases reported. From 1851 to 1947, when the British governed, there were only seven blasphemy-related incidents, but, during Zia’s rule (1977-1988) alone, as many as 80 blasphemy cases were reported to the courts (Mazhar).

The laws coupled with Zia’s emphasis on streamlining a particular version of Sunni Islam — illustrated by section 295-A that particularly targets the Shiites, who differ from Sunnis on the subject of caliphate and companions — led to the creation of different pockets of power that still dominate the discourse on blasphemy. German scholar of Islam, Roswitha Badry, posits that “Zia’s ordinances were not directly caused by communal riots and intra-faith violence. They were rather influenced by Islamist ideology, and anti-Ahmadiyya as well as anti-Shia sentiments” (100). Badry’s argument highlights a top-down approach, indicating that calls for strengthening of blasphemy laws or Islamization are not an archetype of loud far-right extremists but rather are often used by right-wing dictators like Zia to legitimize their policies and strengthen their support network. Zia used madrassas as an ideological state apparatus, they acted as centers for training jihadists and spreading a particular school of Islam: DeobandiWahhabi Mohanty, Mahanty 138. The Lal Masjid (Red Mosque) in Islamabad is a jarring example of how centers used as proxies ended up becoming sovereigns of their own right. The mosque was used by Zia ul-Haq’s regime for the recruitment and mobilization of jihadists to fight in Afghanistan with its chief cleric having close ties with the intelligence and military (Zahid). The authority that the mosque wielded did not go away after Zia’s regime, rather it continued to foster terror outfits, maintain a staunch anti-Shiite stance, and train students to join the Taliban. It went as far as to set up its own Sharia court that oversaw activities like raiding houses that were allegedly brothels and targeting DVD and video cassette stores that they regarded as unIslamic (Pime Asia). Later, military dictator Musharraf and Pakistan People’s Party’s counterweight to the Deobandi-Wahabi radicalism that Zia-ul Haq instilled was to shift state patronage towards Barelvi organizations (an opposing sect) that already felt sidelined (Basit 384). The state’s shifting alliances and backing of different extremist outfits have created what Ashraf calls “a horizontally woven tapestry of partial

sovereignties” (153) which now instigate mob violence and question the legitimacy of state decisions on blasphemy.

The military’s sustained patronage of extremist outfits and civilian governments’ quests for legitimacy that often result in lending support to military-sponsored outfits have largely shaped the current socio-political landscape pertaining to blasphemy. During his time in opposition, Imran Khan lent support to Tehreek-e-Labaik Pakistan’s 20-day blockade of a key interchange in Islamabad, effectively leveraging religion to undermine the government. However, when TLP took to the streets in a similar fashion to protest against the Supreme Court verdict in Asia Bibi vs The State (2018), he found his government under a similar siege as well. Asia Bibi, a Christian woman, was accused of blasphemy in 2009 by her coworkers while picking berries on a farm. An argument broke out after Bibi’s Muslim coworkers objected to her drinking from a jug of water that they had intended to drink from. The coworkers called her ‘impure’ and asserted that she cannot drink from the same utensils as them. The argument resulted in the coworkers accusing her of blasphemy, with the local cleric — who was later approached — filing a complaint against her. The Lahore High Court in 2010 sentenced her to death and she spent the next nine years in solitary confinement. In 2018, the Supreme in what is hailed as a landmark verdict acquitted Bibi on the account of insufficient evidence. The verdict was followed by protests across major cities led by Tehreek-e-Labaik Pakistan (TLP). The party’s leader, Khadim Hussain Rizvi, proclaimed that “We do not believe in any ‘courts.’ ‘Courts’ are a Western concept. We Muslims have adaalat where our Islamic laws are applied, and blasphemers are punished” (qtd. In Ashraf 152). Rizvi’s sense of impunity and authority highlights the existence of different sources of legitimacy whereby TLP wields enough power to question the legitimacy of the courts and effectively influence the trajectory of the alleged blasphemer. The protests only ended with Khan’s government signing an agreement that initiated the process of putting Asia Bibi on the Exit control list, effectively preventing her from leaving Pakistan. Hence despite the court’s verdict, Bibi’s freedom was still constrained.

Asia Bibi’s case illustrates how the blasphemy laws in their own right assign

more power to the religious right. With the burden of proof on the accused, there is a fairly high likelihood of the laws being misused to settle personal vendettas. The cases of blasphemy are what groups like TLP often draw their power from, and with word of mouth being considered as credible evidence, more individuals are incentivized to lodge cases and instrumentalize the law for personal gains. What further helps uphold the sacredness associated with blasphemy is the creation of a “master symbol” (Ashraf 118) whereby, the “crowds are concerned not with the nature and details of the original offense but with the symbolic figure of the blasphemer” (Ashraf 118). The master symbol of blasphemy is stitched together with narratives like “love for the Prophet” or “Allah’s law” when in actuality, the laws’ Quranic roots are widely contested (Mazhar), highlighting how the symbolism is more political in nature. Crowds can be riled up around a symbol after stripping particular cases of their contexts, and the blasphemy laws give religious figureheads the ground for that symbolism. Exempting intent from the laws no longer keeps them context-bound and hinders any defense that might stem from an evaluation of motives given that the crime is now viewed solely in terms of the performance of the act.

Ashraf argues that “blasphemy accusations do not inevitably lead to violence; rather, various factors and individuals come together in the process of escalation to make the violence possible” (117). Among these factors is the role of religious clerics who catalyze the process of establishing the master symbol “in terms of which the conflict is viewed in the public consciousness” (117). State vs Mumtaz Qadri (2011) is a jarring example of this. Mumtaz Qadri was the bodyguard of Salman Taseer — the governor of Punjab from 2008 until his assassination in 2011. Taseer had been advocating for reforming the blasphemy laws and filing a mercy petition for Asia Bibi. He openly spoke against the blasphemy laws in television interviews which riled up many clerics who started issuing fatwas against him, ultimately leading to Qadri assassinating him. In his statement in court, Qadri declared that he had made up his mind to kill Taseer after attending one of the sermons at the mosque that he routinely went to. This illustrates how the clergy and religious factions are sovereign figures in their own right, where they can dictate who lives and who dies through fatwas. This particularly underscores

Srilankan anthropologist Stanley Tambiah’s argument about the importance of religious leaders in instigating collective violence; he contends that “they are ‘propagandists’—key to the process of escalation—who appeal to larger, more emotive, more enduring loyalties and cleavages’ such as those of religion and national identity’’ (qtd. in Ashraf 199). The propaganda did not stop at Taseer’s murder, the supreme court’s verdict to hang Qadri was widely challenged by mosques and far-right extremist parties, specifically Tehreek-e-Labaik Pakistan (TLP) that helped paint Qadri as a martyr who now has a shrine to his name. This illustrates how mosques and madrasas that have been used as ideological state apparatuses now breathe a life of their own.

The existence of mob violence pertaining to blasphemy accusations further highlights the relation between the state and the different pockets of power — i.e. religious factions — whose creation the state has facilitated. Historians Manfred Berg and Simon Wendt argue that lynching can be seen from a devolutionist view whereby “popular justice is a response to the breakdown of government institutions— the state no longer being capable of effectively enforcing its claim to a monopoly of violence” (6). TLP and other extremist factions’ refusal to acknowledge the state’s authority on cases of blasphemy signifies that the Pakistani state in instances pertaining to blasphemy is often unable to enforce its monopoly on violence, creating a loophole that enables far-right organizations such as TLP to frequently exploit the law with impunity. Ashraf recognizes that collective violence driven by blasphemy accusations differs based on identity. According to her, “When the accused is a Muslim, as in the case of Mashal Khan, the collective violence is targeted at the individual. When the accused is a non-Muslim, there is a potential for collective violence to take the form of communal violence in which the whole community or neighborhood of the accused is targeted” (117). Mashal Khan’s lynching and the case of Joseph Colony illustrate this dichotomy. Mashal Khan was a student at Abdul Wali Khan University in Mardan. He was attacked by a mob of over 100 students and some staff members in 2017 over accusations of posting blasphemous content online. Later investigations found no evidence to support this. In 2013, a Christian man from Joseph Colony — a Christian neighborhood in

Lahore — was accused of blasphemy by a Muslim man and booked under section 295-C of the Penal Code. A large crowd from a nearby mosque went on to ransack and set other Christian homes on fire following the accusation. These two instances show the nature and prevalence of communal violence and how it so easily seeps through. The violence is no longer the state’s prerogative rather it is dispersed and not necessarily top-down. Mosques, media, and madrassas that once existed as ideological state apparatuses have the power to influence state decisions and instances of violence. Blasphemy has taken a life of its own, a violent umbrella that has become more of an overarching symbol than simply a speech act.

The military continues to influence and shape overarching socio-political narratives, but history has also noted the culpability of progressive civilian governments who have found themselves adopting the military’s toolkit. The most prominent example of this is Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto’s introduction of the second amendment that declared the Ahmadiyya community non-muslim, which set the base for their ostracization and othering. In conceiving your identity as a Pakistani, you acknowledge the existence of an exceptional other — against whom violence is often permissible. While obtaining national ID, Pakistanis willingly or unwillingly sign the document that requires them to acknowledge that Ahmedis cannot call themselves Muslims. Blasphemy has become an overarching symbol that is often adopted as a narrative that governments try to adapt to and in case they don’t, the existence of different pockets of power that manifest themselves through religious right often forces the state to.

From the outside, it is easy to look at instances of violence related to blasphemy as fundamentalist outrage and violent expression of offended sensibilities. Yet, historical analysis and a critical evaluation of political structures show that the use of blasphemy has been constructed through the forces of the colonial state structure, the military, and the ideological state apparatus. The way mobs and ordinary people interact with blasphemy in Pakistan without any apparent state direction and in many cases, in defiance of the state, does not suggest a natural, inevitable position of the people. Rather, it is evidence of how the Pakistani State in legitimizing its

power through various ideological apparatuses — mosques and madrassas specifically — has created multiple pockets of power that wield enough sovereignty to undermine the state’s monopoly on violence. It is these pockets of power that have allowed blasphemy to become an overarching symbol rather than simply a speech act that allows for great violence to be committed in its name against minority communities and individuals alike.

WORKS CITED

Alavi, Hamza. “The State in Post-Colonial Societies: Pakistan and Bangladesh.” New Left Review, vol. 74, July/August 1972, pp. 59-81. https://newleftreview.org/issues/i74/articles/hamza-alavi-the-state-inpost-colonial-societies-pakistan-and-bangladesh

Althusser, Louis, et al. “Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses: (Notes Towards an Investigation).” Lenin and Philosophy and Other Essays, NYU Press, 2001, pp. 85–126. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt9qgh9v.9. Accessed 10 May 2023.

Ashraf, Sana. “Legitimate Punishment of Blasphemy: Contestation between the Legal System and Popular Justice.” Finding the Enemy Within: Blasphemy Accusations and Subsequent Violence in Pakistan, 1st ed., ANU Press, 2021, pp. 147–70.

Asraf, Sana. “Violence in the Making: The Politics of Escalation from Accusation to Punishment.” Finding the Enemy Within: Blasphemy Accusations and Subsequent Violence in Pakistan, 1st ed., ANU Press, 2021, pp. 117–44.

Basit, Abdul. “Barelvi Political Activism and Religious Mobilization in Pakistan: The Case of Tehreek-e-Labaik Pakistan (TLP)” Politics, Religion & Ideology, vol.21, no.3, 2020, pp. 374-389.

Berg, Manfred, and Simon Wendt. “Introduction: Lynching from an International Perspective” Globalizing Lynching History. Palgrave Macmillan US eBooks, 2011, pp. 1-18.

Badry, Roswitha. “The Dilemma of ‘Blasphemy Laws’ in Pakistan –Symptomatic of Unsolved Problems in the Post-Colonial Period?” Politeja, no. 59, 2019, pp. 91–106.

Hussain, Zahid “The Legacy of Lal Masjid” Dawn, 2017. https://www.dawn.com/news/1345068

“Lal Masjid: the Mosque that Wants to Talebanise the Country (Overview)” Pime Asia News, 2007 https://www.asianews.it/news-en/Lal-Masjid:-the-mosque-that-wants-totalebanise-the-country-(overview )-9732.html

Mazhar, Arafat. “The Untold Story of Pakistan’s Blasphemy Laws: The Reconciliation with the Past and the Way Forward.” Engage Pakistan, 2018 https://engagepakistan.com/assets/resources/Pak_blasphemy_ report2018.pdf

Mohanty, Sanjeeb, and Jinendra Nath Mahanty. “Military-Madrasa-Mullah Complex.” India Quarterly: A Journal of International Affairs, vol. 66, no. 2, SAGE Publishing, June 2010, pp. 133–49.

Nafees Muhammad, “Blasphemy Cases in Pakistan: 1947 – 2021.” Centre for Research and Security Studies, 2021 https://crss.pk/blasphemy-cases-in-pakistan-1947-2021/

Change in the Definition of Masculinities in the Korean Pop Industry as Seen Through BTS’s “Boy in Luv (sangnamja)” (2014) and “Black

Swan” (2020)

SUHANA SHAMSHUDIN KASSAM

Korean Pop, also known as K-pop, is a globally famous genre of music that is said to characterize the second wave of “Hallyu”- the Korean Wave.1 The K-pop industry is famous for its dance performances and its “spectacular corporeal visuality.”2 In “‘Cinderella’ in Reverse: Eroticizing Bodily Labor of Sympathetic Men in K-pop Dance Practice Video,” Chuyun Oh states a change in the definition of Korean masculinity that can be seen through the K-pop industry.3 She argues that unconventional and conventional forms of masculinity are portrayed through what the audience deems to be “real” and “raw” versions of the male K-pop idols in their dance practice videos. 4 Oh analyzes the ways in which dance, together with the K-pop idols’ raw, intimate appearance and the lyrics of songs, affect the way that female fans interpret K-pop idols’ masculinities.5 However, Oh does not explicitly focus on the ways in which gender identity is embodied through the dance movements themselves, nor does she focus on how a change in movement choreography highlights change in what Koreans accept as “masculine.” My essay aims to shed light on how a change in choreography through time

1 Chuyun Oh, “The Politics of the Dancing Body: Racialized and Gendered Femininity in Korean Pop,” in The Korean Wave: Korean Popular Culture in Global Context, ed. Yasue Kuwahara (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 53.

2 Oh, “The Politics of the Dancing Body” 55.

3 Chuyun Oh, “‘Cinderella’ in Reverse: Eroticizing Bodily Labor of Sympathetic Men in K-pop Dance Practice Video,” in East Asian Men: Masculinity, Sexuality, and Desire, ( London: Macmillan Publishers, 2017), 125-126.

4 Oh, “‘Cinderella’ in Reverse,” 137-138.

5 Oh, “‘Cinderella’ in Reverse,” 125.

embodies a change in meanings of masculinity in Korea. To do this, I will be analyzing two distinct dance practice videos performed by the male K-pop group Bangtan Sonyeondan, also known as BTS. The first video is a dance practice video of the song “Boy In Luv (sangnamja)” and the second video is a dance practice video of the song “Black Swan”.

Comparing the two videos from the same K-pop group provides valuable insights into the evolution of acceptable characteristics of masculinity within the K-pop industry. Both dance practice videos distinctly exhibit the differences that vividly illustrate the ways in which the definition of masculinity has broadened within the K-pop industry. These differences highlight an expansion of the norms within the K-pop industry of masculinity from only jimseungdol masculinity to a much broader and more inclusive norm that includes both jimseungdol and kkonminam masculinities. This can be seen through the contrasting use of hands in the choreography, strong versus light attack, and power poses versus fluid movements.

Before I begin my analysis, it is essential to establish a clear definition of “gender,” as it serves as a framework for my definition of Korean masculinity within the Korean Pop industry. In “Performative Acts and Gender Constitution: An Essay in Phenomenology and Feminist Theory,” philosopher and gender theorist Judith Butler challenges the notion that the concepts of gender and biological sex are the same.6 Instead, they argue that gender is a socially constructed phenomenon that is “performative” in nature rather than “expressive.”7 Butler suggests that gender is a concept that only exists through performances—the performance of gender as part of our everyday lives through mundane activities, rather than the expression of fixed or natural gendered identity.8 They further describe gender as a “script,” a concept that has existed before we existed and a concept that will continue to exist after we cease to exist.9 They highlight that gender can be understood as a concept that keeps changing and that can be constructed

6 Judith Butler, “Performative Acts and Gender Constitution: An Essay in Phenomenology and Feminist Theory,” in Feminist Theory Reader: Local and Global Perspectives, ed. Carole R. McCann (Florence: Taylor and Francis, 2013), 354, ProQuest Ebook Central.

7 Butler, “Performative Acts,” 358.

8 Butler, “Performative Acts,” 353.

9 Butler, “Performative Acts,” 357.

in various ways based on different interpretations; however, regardless of this susceptibility to change, this change is restricted in terms of what the society deems to be acceptable.10 Butler’s definition of gender identity being a socially constructed and non-static phenomenon provides a basis for the definitions I use when analyzing the ways in which change in K-pop dance transmitted across time embodies a change in the acceptable traits of Korean masculinity.

Provided that gender identity is a social construct, there are numerous interpretations of the concept of “masculinity,” depending on the perspective of the theorist in question. For the purpose of this essay, I will be drawing from sociologist Raewyn Connell’s definition of masculinity to explore the embodiment of Korean masculinity in K-pop dance performances. In “The Social Organization of Masculinity,” Connell provides readers with an overview of the four ways in which masculinity is defined; these are: essentialist, positivist, normative, and semiotic definitions. My essay focuses on the normative approach to defining masculinity. According to Connell, with the normative approach, masculinity is characterized as the specific ways in which men are expected to behave.11 The normative approach assumes that there exists a list of acceptable traits or behaviors that one needs to incorporate in order to be recognized as “masculine.”12 However, Connell concedes that there is a potential flaw in this approach. She acknowledges that “few men actually match the ‘blueprint.’”13 In other words, she notes that regardless of this list of what is deemed masculine, no one can live up to all of the required masculine traits. She further raises the following question: if not everyone falls under the list of behaviors that are deemed as the norm for being masculine, how can this list be representative of what it means to be masculine?14 I find the normative approach useful for my analysis because norms profoundly influence people’s behavior and

10 Butler, “Performative Acts,” 358.

11 R. W. Connell, “The Social Organization of Masculinity,” in Masculinities, 2nd ed., (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 70.

12 Connell, “The Social Organization of Masculinity,” 70.

13 Connell, “The Social Organization of Masculinity,” 70.

14 Connell, “The Social Organization of Masculinity,” 70.

often compel them to try to conform to societal expectations. The traits of masculinity embodied by K-pop idols establish expectations for individuals, such as Korean pop fans and Korean men, regarding how to behave and act in order to be perceived as “masculine” by the society. Even if these men cannot fully embody the norms of K-pop masculinity, the fact that they try means that the norms are worthy of understanding. Therefore, it is useful for me to utilize the normative approach as a foundation for my definition of Korean masculinity. Because, although this list of behaviors may not be applicable to all men, it serves as a means to comprehend the societal expectations placed on men.

Building on the framework of normative definition of masculinity, masculinity in Korea can be categorized into the following types found amongst male K-pop idols: jimseungdol and kkonminam . 15 Author and researcher Sun Jung elaborates on these terms in her book Korean Masculinities and Transcultural Consumption: Yonsama, Rain, Oldboy, K-Pop Idols. According to Jung’s descriptions, “jimseungdol” is comes from the Korean word “jimseung” meaning “animal or beast” and “dol” the last three letters of the word Idol and represents “a tough, manly and beast-like idol group” whose “stage performances exemplify total wildness and manliness.”16 In other words, idols who may be characterized in a more conventional militant and dominating form of masculinity fall under the category jimseungdol. She also highlights that the word “kkonminam” is derived from the two korean words “kkoch” which means “flower” and “minam” which means “a beautiful man” and is used to describe “men who are pretty looking and who have smooth fair skin, silky hair and a feminine manner.”17 To put it another way this suggests that a male idol that portrays more feminine characteristics and possesses a softer, more vulnerable and sensitive form

15 Crystal S. Anderson, “That’s My Man! Overlapping Masculinities in Korean Popular Music,” In The Korean Wave: Korean Popular Culture in Global Context, ed. Yasue Kuwahara ( New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 124.

16 Sun Jung, “K-Pop Idol Boy Bands and Manufactured Versatile Masculinity: Making Chogukjeok Boys” in Korean Masculinities and Transcultural Consumption: Yonsama, Rain, Oldboy, K-Pop Idols (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2011), 164.

17 Sun Jung, “Bae Yong-Joon, Soft Masculinity, and Japanese Fans: Our Past Is in Your Present Body,” in Korean Masculinities and Transcultural Consumption: Yonsama, Rain, Oldboy, K-Pop Idols (Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2011), 58.

of masculinity is said to fall under the category kkonminam. Kkonminam masculinity has gained prominence in more recent K-pop dance videos and thus how Korean Pop dance aesthetics have changed over time. BTS’s “Boy in Luv” (2014) and “Black Swan” (2020) dance practice videos show that the limits of masculinity in the K-pop industry have expanded over time.

BTS embodies the difference between jimseungdol and kkonminam masculinities in the above mentioned videos. Throughout the dance practice video of “Boy in Luv” (2014), the members of BTS make significant use of their hands to draw attention to their sex organs. One instance where this can be seen is when all seven members slightly bend their knees with their left leg in front and their right leg diagonally behind them and tilt their back towards their left and place their left hand in between their left thigh and their crotch and grasp their pants. While maintaining this position, they aggressively move their upper body in an anticlockwise direction so as to trace an imaginary circle around their body and slide their right leg forward and position it diagonally in front of their left foot. The same movement is again repeated, however, this time it is done with their right hand placed in between their right thigh and crotch and their backs tilted to their right and their knees slightly bent.18 The use of their hand being placed on their crotch while dancing aggressively intensifies the aggressiveness of the performers and symbolizes a sense of power and dominance contributing to the beastlike nature of the jimseungdol masculinities.

In opposition to this use of hands to gesture to the dancers’ crotch, in the dance choreography video of “Black Swan” (2020) the dancers gesture their hands towards their upper body, more specifically, towards their heart. An example of this is seen when all the members stand with their legs bent and hands placed near their chest,in a position where the right hand is placed on top of the left, move their upper body and hands towards each other to the beat: na-na-na as a way to express their emotional vulnerability.19 This use of

18 HYBE LABELS, “bangtan sonyeondan ‘sangnamja (Boy In Luv)’ Dance Practice,” uploaded February 16, 2014, https://youtu.be/gqz6Adx63w8, 1:22-1:27.

19 HYBE LABELS,“[CHOREOGRAPHY] BTS (bangtan sonyeondan) ‘Black Swan’ Dance Practice,” uploaded February 7, 2020, https://youtu.be/fTS1jAhWPbw, 1:20-1:22.

hands to emphasize on and intensify the emotions of the members becomes representative of the kkonminam masculinity, as the members embody a more softer and vulnerable form of masculinity. Therefore, the opposing use of hands in “Boy in Luv” (2014) where the members use their hands to gesture to their crotch embodying a more violent form of masculinity, and in “Black Swan” (2020), where they use their hands to gesture more towards their upper body as a way to express their emotions and allowing themselves to be vulnerable, embodies the expansion of limits of masculinity in the K-pop industry over time from strictly only jimsuengdol masculinity to a more prominent and acceptable expression of kkominam masculinity.

A change in the attack of the movement choreography in the two dance videos performed by BTS also showcases a distinction between jimseungdol and kkonminam masculinities. In dance terminology, “attack” can be defined by the extent to which a specific move is sudden and strong or smooth and consistent. It is evident throughout the performance video of “Boy in Luv” (2014), that a wide range of the dancer’s movements employ a quite strong and aggressive attack. At one instance, all the members take their place in the center of the room, in a sequence that begins with two members, followed by three members, and then two members again. They then perform a simultaneous spinning jump (360-degree) while aggressively punching their right arm downwards and then immediately lowering their right arms back to their sides.20 They aggressively punch their right arm downwards and jump in a fast and harsh manner. This use of strong attack portrays violence and dominance, exemplifying the jimseungdol masculinity of all seven dancers.

On the other hand, movements in the choreography of “Black Swan” (2020) are mostly characterized by smoothness and light attack. For instance, at one point they all stand in the center with their knees bent and move from left to right. When they move towards their right they sway their right hand in front of them and their left hand behind them. This is movement is

20 “‘(Boy In Luv)’ Dance Practice,” 3:23-3:25.

performed again this time moving from right to left while swaying there left hand in front of them and their right hand behind them.21 This movement is done in a quite fast and precise manner, while using a very light and soft attack. By employing a softer and a much more delicate form of attack to perform fast and precise movement the dancers make this particular movement more elegant and portray a more feminine form of masculinity. Therefore, while the strong attack in the earlier video “Boy in Luv” embodies jimseungdol masculinity, the light attack in the later video for “Black Swan ‘’ embodies kkominam masculinity. Thus, these two dance practice videos show change over time in BTS’s embodiments of masculinity.

The use of power poses in “Boy in Luv” and the incorporation of fluid movements in “Black Swan” reflect a change in K-pop aesthetics, illustrating the distinction between the two forms of Korean masculinities. According to the definition used in a research study done by Dana R. Carney, Amy J.C. Cuddy and Andy J. Yap called “Power Posing: Brief Nonverbal Displays Affect Neuroendocrine Levels and Risk Tolerance,” power poses can be characterized by “more expansive” postures with “open limbs.”22 Such gestures are incorporated into the choreography of “Boy in Luv” dance performance. An example of this is seen when the members all stand with their backs straight and their legs wide apart from each other. They kick their left leg forward while simultaneously throwing their left hand to the right and their right hand to their left. They then immediately bring back their hands to their sides and use their hands to aggressively point towards themselves.23 By incorporating straight postures and taking a lot of space by extending their legs, they are able to assert power portraying a more militant form of masculinity becoming representative of jimseungdol masculinity.

Contrastingly, the choreography of “Black Swan” utilizes a range of fluid movements that is representative of kkonminam masculinity. This is evident

21 “‘Black Swan’ Dance Practice,” 1:31-1:33.

22 Dana R. Carney, Amy J. C. Cuddy, and Andy J. Yap, “Power Posing: Brief Nonverbal Displays Affect Neuroendocrine Levels and Risk Tolerance,” Psychological Science 21, no. 10 (2010): 1364–1365.

23 “‘(Boy In Luv)’ Dance Practice,” 0:54-0:55.

when all the members except one stand in a diagonal line parallel to the stage. They stand with their arms crossed and knees slightly bent and their feet close to each other forming a sort of oval shape with their legs. In this position, they swiftly sway left and right. While this is happening Park Ji-min, one of the members, performs a solo where he gracefully and effortlessly performs intricate movements moving from the far end of the diagonal like towards the front of the line.24 This use of fluidity and gracefulness in the movements performed by all the members of BTS highlight a more softer, androgynous form of masculinity which therefore embodies traits that are categorized as kkonminam masculinity. All in all, the use of power poses that portray jimsuengdol masculinity in the earlier video of “Boy in Luv” and the use of fluid and elegant-looking movements in the later video of “Black Swan” thats is representative of kkonminam masculinity embodies an expansion of the masculine traits in the K-pop industry.

A thorough comparison of the dance practice videos of “Boy in Luv” and “Black Swan” shows that through the use of hands to gesture toward the dancer’s sex organs in comparison to the use of hands to express emotions, by employing a more violent vs. a gentler form of attack, and through the use of power poses vs. incorporation of fluid movements in the choreography of “Black Swan,” a change in dance movement is evident. Whereby, change means a change from jimseungdol masculinity to kkonminam masculinity. As of 2020, both jimseungdol masculinity and kkonminam masculinity coexist in the K-pop industry. For example, the dance practice video of the song “ON” (2020), uploaded on February 25, 2020, shortly after the “Black Swan” (2020) dance practice video, showcases movements embodying jimseungdol masculinity.25 Therefore, I am not arguing that kkonminam masculinity has replaced jimseungdol masculinity but that the two masculinities now share prominence in K-pop dance. In “The Softening of Butches: The Adoption of Korean ‘Soft’ Masculinity among Thai Toms,” Dredge Byung’chu KangNguyen explores how South Korean celebrity culture, particularly K-pop

24 “‘Black Swan’ Dance Practice,” 2:25-2:30.

25 HYBE LABELS, “[CHOREOGRAPHY]BTS(bangtan sonyeondan) ‘ON’ Dance Practice” uploaded February 25, 2020, https://youtu.be/VkuEzN8IS_o.

and Korean dramas, has shaped Thai toms’ adoption of a softer form of masculinity.26 He investigates how these celebrities’ portrayal of softer and more emotional qualities impacted the presentation of oneself, behavior, and interactions of Thai toms within Thailand’s lesbian community.27 According to Kang-Nguyen, the word “tom” is “a relexification of ‘tomboy’” and are those individuals “who identify with masculinity but do not want to change their sex.”28 Kang-Nguyen states that the influence of the Korean wave in Thailand has lead to the emergence of “new forms of gender expression.”29 More specifically, he argues that the adoption of a softer form of masculinity in the Korean wave has in turn shaped “Thai aesthetics” by allowing for more freedom in terms of gender expression and sexuality.30 Provided that celebrities have the ability to influence the behaviors of their fans, as shown through the influence of the Korean wave on Thailand, it is important to study how this embodiment of the different masculinities in the K-pop industry affect the global community. More specifically, through the embodiment of jimseungdol and kkonminam masculinities in K-pop dance, K-pop idols have the ability to change people’s perspectives in terms of what may be the norm for masculinity in other parts of the world and change the way people behave in order to follow this other norm for masculinity present in the K-pop industry. As such, studying how a change in the norm for masculinity with the K-pop industry allows us to understand how this in turn influences a global population and may result into a more inclusive and diverse norm for masculinity that includes not only those individuals that fall under the traditional, hegemonic standard of masculinity but also those who express themselves through a more softer form of masculinity.

26 Dredge Byung’chu Kang-Nguyen, “The Softening of Butches: The Adoption of Korean ‘Soft’ Masculinity among Thai Toms.” In Pop Empires: Transnational and Diasporic Flows of India and Korea, ed. S. Heijin Lee, Monika Mehta, and Robert Ji-Song Ku (United States of America: University of Hawai’i Press, 2019), 26.

27 Kang-Nguyen, “The Softening of Butches” 29-31.

28 Kang-Nguyen, “The Softening of Butches” 22.

29 Kang-Nguyen, “The Softening of Butches” 33.

30 Kang-Nguyen, “The Softening of Butches” 33.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Anderson, Crystal S. “That’s My Man! Overlapping Masculinities in Korean Popular Music.” In The Korean Wave: Korean Popular Culture in Global Context, edited by Yasue Kuwahara, 117–31. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014.

“Bangtan sonyeondan ‘sangnamja(Boy In Luv)’ dance practice.” HYBE LABELS. Uploaded February 16, 2014. https://youtu.be/gqz6Adx63w8.

Butler, Judith. “Performative Acts and Gender Constitution: An Essay in Phenomenology and Feminist Theory.” In Feminist Theory Reader: Local and Global Perspectives, edited by Carole R. McCann and Seung-kyung Kim, 352–61. Florence: Taylor and Francis, 2013. ProQuest Ebook Central.

Carney, Dana R., Amy J.C. Cuddy, and Andy J. Yap. “Power Posing: Brief Nonverbal Displays Affect Neuroendocrine Levels and Risk Tolerance.” Psychological Science 21, no. 10 (2010): 1363–68. JSTOR.

“[CHOREOGRAPHY] BTS (bangtan sonyeondan) ‘Black Swan’ Dance Practice.” HYBE LABELS. Uploaded February 7, 2020. https://youtu.be/fTS1jAhWPbw.

“[CHOREOGRAPHY] BTS (bangtan sonyeondan) ‘ON’ Dance Practice.” HYBE LABELS. Uploaded February 25, 2020. https://youtu.be/VkuEzN8IS_o.

Connell, R. W. “The Social Organization of Masculinity.” In Masculinities, 67-71. 2nd ed. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005.

Jung, Sun. “Bae Yong-Joon, Soft Masculinity, and Japanese Fans: Our Past Is in Your Present Body.” In Korean Masculinities and Transcultural Consumption: Yonsama, Rain, Oldboy, K-Pop Idols, 35–72. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2011.

Jung, Sun. “K-Pop Idol Boy Bands and Manufactured Versatile Masculinity: Making Chogukjeok Boys.” In Korean Masculinities and Transcultural Consumption: Yonsama, Rain, Oldboy, K-Pop Idols, 163–70. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2011.

Kang-Nguyen, Dredge Byung’chu. “The Softening of Butches: The Adoption of Korean ‘Soft’ Masculinity among Thai Toms.” In Pop Empires: Transnational and Diasporic Flows of India and Korea, edited by S. Heijin Lee, Monika Mehta, and Robert Ji-Song Ku, 19–36. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2019.

Oh, Chuyun. “‘Cinderella’ in Reverse: Eroticizing Bodily Labor of Sympathetic Men in K-pop Dance Practice Video.” In East Asian Men: Masculinity, Sexuality, and Desire, edited by Xiaodong Lin, Chris Haywood, and Mairtin Mac an Ghaill, 123–41. London: Macmillan Publishers, 2017.

Oh, Chuyun. “The Politics of the Dancing Body: Racialized and Gendered Femininity in Korean Pop,” in The Korean Wave: Korean Popular Culture in Global Context, edited by Yasue Kuwahara, 53–81. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014.

The Moral Proportionality of Jus Post Bellum and how it perpetuates

Bystandership

UDGAM BHATTARAI

A million people killed, two million displaced and one international community left watching. Between 7th April and 15th July, 1994, the world experienced its most efficient, grueling and bloody conflict in Rwanda. From Kibuye in the west to Kibungo in the east, people were killed ruthlessly, with machetes, guns, and everything in between–only because of their identity as Tutsis. It reeked of genocide–from the systematic erasure of the Tutsis to the straight-up mass murder and delocalized violence, the Rwandan “civil war” was genocide in its truest sense (Power 2001). So what did the international community do for Rwanda in its darkest time?

Nothing. After countless UN Security Council (UNSC) meetings, and constant back and forth between the Secretariat and the UNSC, the international community made a sum total of zero efforts to tackle this crisis. Between constant debates and deliberations over the proper terminology for the crisis and the mandate of the peacekeeping forces, the international community became a bystander to the atrocities of Rwanda as they ran rampant (Glanville 2021:137). Bystandership was a morally unpleasant and unacceptable stance, and the international community repents for its inaction to this day, but it begs the question: was this bystandership a consequence of the socio-political climate surrounding and concerning the Rwandan genocide or a much larger fault of the system of humanitarian interventions in general?

Giorgo Dona defines “bystander” as the third component of the atrocity triangle that consists of the victims, perpetrators and bystanders (2017:3). In a more literal sense, bystandership means to be present but not take part. In today’s political climate, you’re either intervening or a bystander (Dona 2017:4). This is a consequence of the globalization of the international

community, wherein everything now has a shared relevance. Hence, to not do anything about the status quo, especially one that is as haunting and gruesome as Rwanda, is a testament of the willingness to not exercise the franchise of doing something. There’s always going to be a fair divide of bystanders and interveners in any and every crisis, but what makes Rwanda so remarkable is that the entire international community became bystanders to its atrocities (Dona 2017:5). So why exactly did this happen?

(1) None of the major world powers could quantify a rational outcome for themselves from the war.

(2) The countries that recognized a need and were willing to intervene did not have the agency or the resources to do so (Power 2001).

No matter how morally indigestible and unpleasant this inaction of the international community was, it begs the question whether, in today’s modern socio-political arena, bystandership has moral and rational standing as an acceptable stance?

Acceptable or not, there is an increasing trend of bystandership in the modern political arena – seen evidently in the Mongolian coup, the Hong Kong protests and even the Russia-Ukraine War. Much of this inaction can be attributed to the moral burden that comes with the act of intervention. As interventions today are mostly rationalized and recognized as just wars, the discourse around them is governed by the three chief components of a just war – the jus ad bellum (motives/justice for war), the jus in bello (means of war) and jus post bellum (justice after war) (Walzer 2002:9).

While jus ad bellum and jus in bello have always been subjects of great scrutiny and havethe power and agency to determine how a war is viewed in the international arena, jus post bellum has recently gained prominence. However, with a lack of social and legal frameworks regulating and controlling jus post bellum, the burden of proof falls on moral rhetoric (Bellamy 2008:603).

There is a glaring moral inconsistency that comes with the expectation to establish justice after wars. After all, how much is it morally rational and reasonable for an intervening party to contribute to the vanquished (Lazar 2012:3)? How long can the winning party be expected to take care of the

losing party? Such questions tread a very thin line between neocolonialism and immortality, a line that differentiates perfectly valid self-defense from an unjust and disproportionate war. It is this line and its shakiness that amplifies platforms for inaction and bystandership in international politics today. Thus, by drawing on Bellamy’s definition of jus post bellum and his critique of its normativity, this essay argues that although the rhetoric surrounding jus post bellum in modern political discourse is that it makes wars more just, its normativity and ambiguity perpetuates bystandership and threatens the very doctrine of humanitarian interventions.

“Jus post bellum ” or, as it literally means, “the justice after war” is the set of responsibilities that the victor has towards the vanquished (Bellamy 2008:601). Instinctually, justice after war implies the construction of a new status quo, and the establishment of local legitimacy for the vanquished (Walzer 2002:19). Bellamy defines two distinct approaches towards jus pos bellum – the maximalist and the minimalist principles (2008:601). The minimalist approach, just like its name, believes that jus pos bellum involves the vindication of rights and the satisfaction of the jus ad bellum (Bellamy 2008:602). The maximalist approach expands the scope of postwar responsibilities from rights vindication, to an added spectrum of responsibilities that are grounded on international law and liberalism (Bellamy 2008:612). Jus Post Bellum and Just War Theory are also proponents to a much broader idea of a Responsibility to Protect (R2P), which dictates that states have a responsibility to protect their citizens and even citizens of other states in case of a failure of those states to look after their people. Jus post bellum is basically a derivation of R2P that implies a longterm responsibility to protect the vanquished and ensure that there are appropriate structures for their sustained protection (Walzer 2002:19). But neither Bellamy’s approaches nor the extension of R2P account for the moral disproportionality that comes with the normative definition of jus post bellum (Bellamy 2008:620).

Proportionality is already a very integral part of the just war theory, especially when it comes to discourse about the jus ad bellum and the jus in bello (Walzer 2002:16). However, the proportionality that governs these

discussions is more specific to the wars waged and draws on more tangible metrics, such as casualties and military numbers. There is also a moral connotation of said proportionality that comes with the very concept of jus post bellum . In “Responsibilities of Victor,” Bellamy asserts that in today’s status quo, wars can plausibly only be waged for two reasons: (1) by using Chapter 7 of the UN Charter to invoke self-defense, and (2) by undertaking acts of aggression that can be justified on various grounds, the most common one being humanitarian, like when the NATO exercised its Responsibility to Protect (R2P) in Kosovo and Libya for the net humanitarian good (2008:604). It is in these two most plausible types of war that the moral disproportionality and fallacy of jus post bellum are most prominent.

What is self-defense? International law defines it as the use of force to repel an attack or imminent threat of attack directed against oneself or others or a legally protected interest (ICRC). On that note, is it really rational and sensible to ask for the victors to help bring about jus post bellum for the people and the contingency that have, ironically, done injustices towards them (Bellamy 2008:611)? A moral dilemma arises, because either the victor has to help bring justice to the people and parties that have caused them harm and trauma, or risk validating their perfectly valid and reasonable war waged for self-defense due to an inability to fulfill a rationally and even morally ambiguous criterion. Additionally, war always implies tension between the warring parties, even more so when they are waged for self-defense. Hence, there is always a possibility that these tensions and grievances bleed into the efforts at a jus post bellum . To that end, asking a group with biases and grievances to help bring about peace, justice and social legitimacy, would not exactly be very redemptive for the vanquished since their self-determination and sovereignty would be bound to be undermined by said prejudices (Lazar 2012:18). If a state intervenes under “self-defense”, then under that definition, it means harm has been done to them. This means that there’s a conflict between protecting their own interests and the interests of the group that’s harmed them. This is at odds with the doctrine of R2P (Glanville 2021:138).

When a war is waged on humanitarian grounds, for the greater good of

the state and its populations, what inconsistencies could possibly arise in bringing them proper and complete peace and justice? However, there’s always the question of motives, and according to Walzer, “mixed motives” are always a feature of humanitarian interventions and other wars waged on humanitarian grounds (2002:19). These mixed motives will always influence the post-war efforts at justice and peace directly or indirectly. These mixed motives are reflected in the establishment of post-war social legitimacy, such that the structures will be inherently neo-colonialist and allied with the interveners. For example, Operation Turquoise in Rwanda was much more generous to the Hutu perpetrators in its peacebuilding efforts (Bellamy 2008:619). Hence, there is a moral disproportionality for the intervener because while harboring the burden of international scrutiny and skepticism and the responsibility to alleviate the sufferings of the vanquished and bring about humanitarian good, they now also bear the immense liability of possibly encroaching people’s fundamental rights to sovereignty and self-determination (Lazar 2012:23). If aggressions are carried out purely on humanitarian grounds, it is inevitably going to lead to a lack of commitment and self-determination (Walzer 2002:19). For instance, the NATO intervention in Kosovo in 1999 is infamous for its sheer stubbornness against the deployment of ground troops due to a fear of casualties in a disproportionate war where the NATO barely had any non-humanitarian motives. Purely humanitarian interventions would create a moral vacuum that cannot contain the core elements of R2P because without any real motives, these interventions would be driven by the normativity of laws rather than genuine empathy and sympathy to bring about good (Glanville 2021:139).

In today’s world, much of the war discourse is dominated by interventions. Walzer defines interventions as the set of exceptions to territorial integrity and national sovereignty, especially to alleviate and address acts that “shock the moral conscience” of mankind (2002:31). In that sense, interventions today can be (1) wars waged for self-defense, or at least rhetorically framed as self-defense like in East Pakistan by India, and Afghanistan by the United States, and (2) justified aggression i.e. the exercising of R2P like the NATO did in Libya and Kosovo. Interventions are wars, such that the socio-

political discussion around them is also governed by just war theory and its components. Just War Theory has gained great standing in international socio-political discourse due to the disproportionate and unjust intervention in Vietnam by the United States, and jus post bellum has become a primary topic of that conversation courtesy of the US’s “War on Terror” interventions in Syria, Afghanistan and Iraq and their subsequent collapses (Bellamy 2008: 620). Today, humanitarian interventions come with the burden of dealing with a burgeoning global crisis as well as the burden of proving their legitimacy and success through a commitment to jus post bellum.

According to Walzer, when an intervention is undertaken, the victor acquires the de-facto responsibility of reconstructing, rebuilding, and restoring the vanquished state but also bringing it and its people to justice (2002:17). This responsibility comes with the subtext of a long-term commitment of not only time and resources but also diplomatic energy especially, since jus post bellum is a very meticulous and delicate process. But these are resources and amenities that not every state or every concerned and shocked party has, and only a select few countries in the world have the international socio-political agency to make such commitments and translate them into tangible changes. Hence, due to the added weight that jus post bellum puts on interveners to legitimize their humanitarian motives and means through a commitment to justice after war, the responsibility to protect is now shouldered by only a few countries that can afford the luxury of it, while all the other countries and parties are left with no viable alternatives to bystandership (Glanville 2021:137).

When the burden of interventions and R2P falls on only a select few in the world, motives come to the forefront of the intervention conversation (Glanville 2021:137). Walzer insists that mixed motives are not only an accessory of humanitarian interventions but a necessity (Walzer 2002:19). If the countries and parties that have the agency to intervene and bring about net humanitarian good while also committing to jus post bellum do not have any real motives involved in the crisis and cannot rationalize a favorable outcome for themselves from the intervention, then there would be no action or intervention at all. This lack of motives would further limit

the already dwindling applications of the R2P and would make both R2P and humanitarian interventions biased and prejudiced towards only the countries wherein world powers such as the USA, Russia or even China would have vested interests (Glanville 2021:137). This improper distribution of burden undermines the legitimacy of R2P and the very doctrine of humanitarian intervention as a shared burden of the international community.

The inaction of the international community exemplifies the bystandership perpetuated by jus post bellum . The genocide in Rwanda was allowed to rage rampant for 100 days not because of misinformation or inadequate information, but because of an unwillingness from the United States and Russia, the only states that could’ve actively stopped it (Power 2001). The United States, haunted by its intervention in the Somali Civil War, was too reluctant to partake in another intervention, and thus saw more harm than good from a possible intervention in Rwanda (Wheeler 2000:19). The power that such nations have over international politics is so immense that their unilateral reluctance to intervene influenced any multilateral possibilities for an intervention. Instead, the West used controlled and biased framing of the Rwandan genocide as merely a civil war in order to avoid the moral guilt and shame of the inability to fulfill R2P altogether (Power 2001). With power politics gaining much more of a standing in intervention discourse due to the increasing burden of humanitarian interventions, the international community became a bystander to the genocides in Rwanda purely because of the will of a select few powerful countries.

When an intervention did come in Rwanda, after months and months of diplomatic pressure, deliberations, and appeasements, the genocide had already run its course, and the damage had been done (Power 2001). This tragedy begs the question whether the true goal of humanitarian interventions is to address the “emergency” at hand or a long term peace and justice. While the latter is certainly more desirable and more sensible, justice should only be an afterthought to peace. Without handling the emergency and stabilizing the situation, no conversation about restorative and retributive justice vis-a-vis jus post bellum would have any footing. In addition, a commitment to long term justice, especially given how important

and formative it can be in reestablishing a state, demands considerably more thought and diplomatic deliberation, which can compromise the urgency of an emergent humanitarian intervention, thus leaving the international community and people as bystanders for the majority or even all of the crisis before any positive progress is made.

Bellamy, however, argues that deconstruction of the normativity and moral disproportionality of jus post bellum to better enforce it can only be achieved by separating it from the other postulates of the just war theory – the jus ad bellum and the jus in bello (Bellamy 2008:609). While this segregation does give jus post bellum more agency and power in intervention discourse, it also makes the just war theory much more permissible. Despite all the contention and discourse, jus post bellum provides a lot of agency to the actual humanitarian motives of justified aggressions, by ensuring that mixed motives do not prevail and the war has a net humanitarian outcome that stays true to the purpose of the intervention. Separating the motives of the war from its outcomes would strip jus post bellum of this agency, thus creating an arena wherein perfectly just wars waged for self-defense and humanitarian motives would be scrutinized and invalidated since the justice after war wouldn’t necessarily equate jus post bellum . Situations like those in East Pakistan and Kosovo, the gravity of unjust wars that global powerhouses such as the United States and Russia carry out in places such as Iraq and Crimea, will be undermined by the semblance of justice and peace that they appear to enforce. Since there are no legal frameworks that dictate the clauses and scope of jus post bellum , it gains most of its touchstones from the jus ad bellum and jus in bello . Making jus post bellum independent of these metrics would make it more ambiguous and contentious, since there would not be anything to ground even the most minimalist approach. Any attempts to conventionalize it would be an encroachment of sovereignty, since the criterion for justice and peace isn’t always grounded in the liberal principles that govern international law. While enforcing jus post bellum as an integral component of the just war theory enforces and exacerbates the moral disproportionality of wars, making it completely independent of the just war theory also brings about a lot of contention and debate. This normativity and impracticality of jus post bellum isn’t necessarily a circumstantial virtue, but

rather a consequence of its very definition.

“We must never forget our collective failure to protect at least 800,000 defenseless men, women and children who perished in Rwanda 10 years ago,” former UN Secretary General Kofi Annan reiterated in an address to the UN Human Right Commission (United Nations 2004). Even today, almost 30 years down the road, the international community looks back at Rwanda with guilt and shame. But the failure of the international community in Rwanda was not merely a fault of misinformation, or the result of political stubbornness, but rather a consequence of the system – a system that is morally askew and practically confused. It is a system that adds the moral burden of justice and peace to the already mammoth task of humanitarian intervention, driving international politics to a morally questionable but unavoidable stance of bystandership. Thus, it is important to critically reassess and reevaluate jus post bellum ’s stance in today’s intervention discourse to avoid the replacement of the doctrine of humanitarian intervention by a global phenomena of bystandership such that the international community will never have “another Rwanda.”

BIBLIOGRAPHY

(1) Alex J Bellamy “The Responsibilities of Victory - ‘Jus Post Bellum” and the Just War’” in Review of International Studies, Vol 34, No. 4 (Oct., 2008), pp. 601 – 625

(2) Giorgia Donà, “Situated Bystandership During and After the Rwandan Genocide”, in Journal of Genocide Research, Vol. 20 (Taylor & Francis, 2018)

(3) Luke Glanville, “International Politics” in Sharing Responsibility: The History and Future of Protection from Atrocities (Princeton University Press, 2021) pp. 133-167

(4) Michael Barnett, “Diplomatic Games, ” in Eyewitness to a Genocide: The United Nations and Rwanda (Cornell University Press, 2002) pp. 130–52

(5) Michael Walzer, Arguing about War (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004)

(6) Neta C. Crawford, “No Borders, No Bystanders: Developing Individual and Institutional Capacities for Global Moral Responsibility,” in Global Basic Rights (Oxford, 2015) pp. 131-155

(7) Nicholas J Wheeler, Saving Strangers – Humanitarian Intervention in International Society, (Oxford: OUP, 2000)

(8) Samantha Power, “Bystanders to Genocide – Why the United States Let the Rwandan Tragedy Happen” in The Atlantic Monthly (3001), pp. 84 – 108

(9) Seth Lazar, “Skepticism about Jus Post Bellum,” in Morality, Jus Post Bellum, and International Law, (Cambridge University Press, 2012) pp. 204-222

(10) United Nations, “The Responsibility to Protect” (https://www.un.org/en/ chronicle/article/responsibility-protect )

(11) United Nations, Address by Kofi Annan to the Commission on Human Rights secretary-general (2004) (https://www.un.org/sg/en/content/ sg/speeches/2004-04-07/address-kofi-annan-commission-humanrights#:~:text=We%20must%20never%20forget%20our,be%20brought%20 back%20to%20life)

(12) ICRC, Self-defence | How does law protect in war? - Online casebook (https://casebook.icrc.org/a_to_z/glossary/self-defence#:~:text=It%20 refers%20to%20the%20use,response%20to%20an%20armed%20attack)

The capital’s tallest building, Burj Mohamed Bin Rashid seen in the background on the right side of the photograph, is right on the bustling Hamdan Street in downtown Abu Dhabi. It stands grandiose. Once made up of modest stalls, the vibrant old souk is now rebuilt into the World Trade Center. The street’s namesake, Hamdan Center (opened in 1982), has miraculously survived the test of time and continues to house Ammo Saber’s candy store, a curious arcade claw machine right by the entrance, and other electronics stores with CDs that have been collecting dust. In one of the liveliest areas of Abu Dhabi, and as suggested by the pedestrian traffic lights, I stopped. For a while before then, I was sprinting. I sprinted so fast from primary school to university, I forgot to stop and catch my breath. Ammo Saber gains more wrinkles every time I buy my favorite hazelnut chocolate. Every time I approach his store, I pray that he will be there when I walk in.

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by Aryam Alhosani

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