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Identity

Being English/ British/ European and the politics of difference

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By: Henry Redwood

Source: https://i.guim.co.uk/
Source: https://i.guim.co.uk/

To say that it has been a bad couple of weeks to be English (or is it British, or European? I’m not sure anymore…) is an understatement. Violent and racist football supporters in France; racist abuse at home; intolerant and divisive politics in all political parties; “Brexit”; and lastly, losing a football match to a team with more volcanoes than professional footballers. Each of these events has left in its wake a series of finger-pointing and questions over who’s to blame: Roy Hodgson? The working class? The Tories? The press? A complacent left? (Im)migrants and/or refugees? This need for someone, or a collective, to be blamed within society seems to run deep. It was certainly key in the angry protest vote that saw Britain leave the EU. The primary concern within each of these allegations seems to be to find the ‘Other’, upon whom we can unburden our own responsibilities and troubles – the immigrant; the elite; the European bureaucrat; the English -and draw, perhaps, clear lines that strongly delineate what “we are” – and more often what we are not.

However, the ‘blame game’ rests on an unsustainable model, which assumes that clear lines can be drawn which delineate what “we” are – and more often what we are not. The most obvious example here is the notion of “Great Britain”, which has been variously deployed in, often contradicting, ways by different parts of the argument. Underneath each, though, is a conception of a nation – a collective – that remains unchanging; of a set of morals, values, culture etcetera, that is transcendental, frequently constructed by relational difference (we are not European; we are not fascist).

The arbitrariness of this (of course, being arbitrary makes it no less violent) is seen with the difficulty we have in deciding at which point a particular “Great Britain” began. The pretence of unity and solidity of these categories, which was pumped out throughout the referendum ‘debate’, and the confidence that we could ever know what it means to be English, British or European (or all three at once), meant that the debate was conducted from a perspective where we could decide what it meant to be ‘British’ (or even democratic). This decision was made through exclusionary identity politics, rather than considerations on how we might reconfigure these understandings of difference to try to remove the harm caused by arbitrarily signifying Self against the ‘Other’.[1] This is not only directed at those who voted in favour of Brexit; this issue has come up repeatedly in the anti-Brexist arguments since, where Brexiters are labelled as racists, ignorant, idiots, and are consequently de-politicised in the process as their voices are considered irrelevant. This ignores both our (here meaning Remain voters) responsibility, and in these cases our dependency on this ‘Other’ to define us (I am not a Brexiter, I am not racist or fascist), which was perhaps most clearly seen in the celebratory pro-European protest in London on Saturday.[2] This protest summed up this forms of identity politics, and worryingly seemed to recreate the boundaries that de-politicised the voices of Brexiters, reproducing the same political relationships that led to the ostracisation of large sections of the population in the first place; hardly a basis upon which to rebuild the shattered community.

The accusatory, and often angry, politics of the blame game seems to have occupied us elsewhere over the past decades, and perhaps it marks a trend in the new-millennium’s political landscape. At University, and elsewhere, the response to the impact of austerity has frequently been about blame and the fragmenting of larger political ideologies and structures and issues into “bite size” issues. Students are angry at the staff for not providing more contact times; the academic staff resent students for wanting a corporate-inspired ‘transferable skills’ format of education that the University was not designed to deliver, and that they are not trained to deliver.[3] It feels as though something similar has happened in the political realm, where there seems to have been a turn to (possibly thanks to, or as a result of, the digital age) a politics based on fragmented and seemingly isolated issues. A trend most evident in the rise of pressure group politics and organisations like 38 degrees.

Underlying both of these points is a sense that we can distil responsibility – and perhaps importantly with this, a sense of belonging and being – to different individuals and collectives, without considering our shared responsibility and co-dependence. As such, we are failing to explore the culpability of much larger systems that produce these harms and us as recognisable subjects we are not looking at the shared responsibility that we consequently have for the reproduction of that system and the violence that relates to it. Without this understanding, the “immigrant” remains an external entity that we have no obligation to; a burden, rather than an always-already member of our community that we are responsible for.[4] Without this understanding, the Brexit voter remains an ignorant racist, rather than someone who has been subjectivised through the same system that produces others’ (my) privilege; someone silenced for decades whilst a politics was practised that was blind to its violence, and complicit in aggravating inequality.  In both, it is the gap and relation between the Self and the ‘Other’ that needs to be addressed. Not by blaming the ‘Other’, but by reconfiguring the system as a whole. The same system that currently produces the Self and ‘Other’ as different, and as opposing polarities. In a time of rising extremism – islamophobic; homophobic; transphobic; take your pick – such reframing is more important than ever.

 

 

Henry Redwood is a third year PhD student in the War Studies department and senior editor at strife. His work engages with critical theory to explore how international courts construct truths and the normative underpinnings these project. Alongside his research Henry has previously worked at the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, and a number of (I)NGOs working in Rwanda. Twitter: @hred44

 

 

 

 

Notes:

[1] See Martha Minow, Making all the difference: Inclusion, Exclusion, and American law (Cornell University Press, 1991)

[2] For an excellent insight into Brexiters see here

[3] http://blogs.lse.ac.uk/politicsandpolicy/transferable-people/

[4] For an wonderful article on migrant identities and borders see, Francis Saunders, ‘Where on Earth Are You?’, 38:5 (2016), pages 7-12

 

A reflection on Canadian identity in a moment of crisis

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By Joana Cook,
Editor-in-Chief, Strife

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Today Canadians watched in horror as Ottawa was locked down when at least one gunman opened fire at the national Parliament, forcing politicians to barricade doors, journalists to dive for cover, all while streaming live across national and international media. When the dust settled, one reservist and one gunman lay dead and a nation stood in shock.

Within a week of each other, two separate (and as of yet unlinked) incidents seemingly targeted symbols that Canadians hold dear – our capital city, our democratic institutions, a memorial to our fallen, our armed forces. Even amidst our own acknowledged rising threat levels, a country which had appeared to cautiously contain and manage the plots present in other nations is never prepared to see one unfold before their eyes. It is perhaps premature to reflect at this point, but in the thralls of the narratives, imagery and symbolism which flows forth in (real) times like these, the implications of these will impact upon Canadian consciousness for some time to come.

As a country in the midst of present and shifting global tensions and concerns, we have struggled with our evolving identity. Are we still the Canada of peacekeepers? Has our role in Afghanistan redefined us? How and why are extremists emerging from our own backyard? How do we envision our role in this world amid seemingly increasing violence?

These tragic events may have just reaffirmed how we view ourselves as Canadians, while also offering a starting point to rethink the broader questions above. We are a country which, when faced with the unthinkable, still reverts to unification, quiet and humble heroism, and the ‘level-headedness’ we have always held dear.

We sent tweets, messages and emails to those affected in Ottawa stating our support with them. We stood together as Canadians. We proved this with statistics.

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We praised those who kept cool heads in the thralls of confusion, who didn’t ‘kill’ the terrorist, but instead ‘took down’ and stopped the attacker.

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The actions of our everyday citizens spoke louder than words…

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… while Canadians of all political affiliations and faiths spoke with the same message.

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Perhaps most telling is the show of support and response to the soldier killed today while on duty. We will not see the same for the shooter.

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Few in the national media directed the blame, or cited a motivation from the onset. We questioned, we scrutinized, but we did not point fingers carelessly. We were cautious with our language, phrasing and insinuation. We understand the weight that words can carry.

As the story unfolds in the coming days, we will find out more about the shooter. We will analyse the perpetrator’s plot and motivations, social profiles, background, and networks, as we should. We will need to understand what could instigate such violence, how and why it could be carried out, and how we can prevent such events in the future. We cannot afford to be naïve; there are many emerging risks we face and many challenges still to come.

As Canadians, we will continue to question the policies we form to address these, as well as their impacts. We will challenge the roles we take, and the ways and means by which we deal with new and uncertain problems that come our way. This is our right and our duty.

However, I believe we will do so knowing that in the face of those things which may challenge and frighten us, Canadians can act as an example of how to navigate such waters together with poise, thoughtfulness, and a remembrance of the values we hold dear as our guide. We will do so knowing that even if such hate can permeate certain individuals, these are not reflective of the overwhelming majority of our citizens.

If it is in tragic and painful moments like this that our identity as Canadians is shaped and reinforced, then I am confident we will, together, weather the storm and only emerge stronger as a nation.

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Joana Cook is the Editor-in-Chief of Strife and a PhD researcher at the Department of War Studies, King’s College London where she focuses on the role and agency of women in counterterrorism. She is also a Research Affiliate with Public Safety Canada and member of the Canadian Network for Research on Terrorism, Security and Society (TSAS). You can follow her on Twitter @Joana_Cook. All views are her own.

Failed, failing, failure – Is Africa disgracing our family?

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By Tim Glawion

463px-Punch_Rhodes_Colossus

All five of the most failed states in the world lie in Africa, calculates the Fund for Peace in its 2012 Index. Mali, as a case in point, has been failing for months now, the army even went as far as fleeing when the Islamist insurgency attacked them. Only mother France’s troops have turned the tables and are leading the recapture of the country’s North with astonishing swiftness and ease. After all we have done for you Africa, why do you prove us a failure time and time again? At least so the popular narrative reads.

Unlike the recent events in Mali suggest, however, Africa has not disappointed us. We have disappointed Africa. In light of the apparent failure of our imposed mode of order in form of a state system we persist and refuse to change our ways. In fact, most African countries never had a state system, at most borders and institutions left behind by colonialism. Africa’s political order, therefore, has neither failed, nor is it failing. Africa’s political orders are evolving and we might see states emerging from this evolution. But if we opened our minds and our international system, we might just witness new forms of political order different from what we know. While we condemn colonialism for the slavery and abuses it brought about, we still silently praise it for bringing order to a continent of anarchy. State systems with clear boundaries, infrastructure, and powerful governments. However, when independence movements kicked out European imperialists, indigenous rulers seemed incapable of containing their abusive and extractive measures to an economically viable level, as the former colonizers had been able to. The economy and the state quickly collapsed. It seems as though the circle began closing itself, when Mali called upon its old masters to bring about the stability they were unable to provide for themselves.

But does this patronizing viewpoint stand the test of reality?

To begin with, can we speak of states, in the European sense, in Africa? While the 1884 Berlin Conference painted lines on the ‘blank’ African drawing board, which have stayed surprisingly untouched for almost 150 years, is this enough to become a state? Were infrastructure developments, coercive rulers and ideological indoctrination, which came about as by-products of colonialism, enough to fill these borders with a common people? Unlikely. Colonial institutions did not create unifying causes and processes for the emergence of states, instead they were meant to increase the efficiency of exploitation. If any moment in time can be seen as a possible spark for state building during the twentieth century, it was not when Europeans entered the continent. It was rather when Africans in each country collectively decided to kick them out.

Along with the common enemy, disappeared the common cause. Identities and institutions other than the state persisted, such as tribes, kin-groups, clans and kingdoms. But the centralizing apparatus left behind by the imperialists and international incentives to uphold the central state empowered exclusive groups to exploit the rest of the population. Somalia’s dictator Siyyad Barre, propped up first by the Soviets, then by the Americans, went as far as starting massacres against north-eastern tribes simply to boost his grip on power. The same region declared independence in 1991 as Somaliland, and who could blame them after a history of violent discrimination under the pretence of a centralized state? Well, we are blaming them, as no state so far has recognized Somaliland’s independence.

Anglo-European powers did not bring about statehood, but these same powers upheld a ‘quasi-state’ system as a pretext to justify violent repression and avoid the emergence of an organic political order. How, then, can we believe that Western intervention is the key for peace and stability? When recognising a central Somali government for the first time in 20 years the United States took credit for supporting the transition to a central state. What kind of support did the US mean exactly? Propping up Barre’s regime for 12 years? Leading a failed attempt at pacification in 1993, and retreating in haste after the infamous Black Hawk Down incident? Supporting warlords against Islamist groups during the civil war? Encouraging the Ethiopian invasion in 2006 that toppled the only stable Somali regime since 1991 because it was “Islamist”? Or does it indeed refer to the most recent move to acknowledge as the sole representative of Somalia a government that itself effectively controls no more than the capital city?

With the French forces reporting one military success after the next, and newspapers’ daily self-congratulatory headlines on what a great impact we Europeans have on our ailing little brother Africa, as a European I must disagree: Africa has not failed us, we have failed Africa.