#1

  • Depot Live Show #1
    https://topophile.net/rendez-vous/depot-live-shows

    Conférence d’introduction à la présentation du projet FCRBE, orientée sur les revendeurs de matériaux de réemploi. Le Depot Live Show(s) est un événement en ligne inédit dédié aux revendeurs de matériaux de réemploi. Du 10 au 26 mai 2021, trois temps de présentations, rencontres, échanges, mettront en lumière les revendeu·r·se·s de matériaux de réemploi européens,... Voir l’article

  • #15 Entretien avec Philippe de VILLIERS (Les Éveilleurs)
    https://www.crashdebug.fr/15-entretien-avec-philippe-de-villiers-les-eveilleurs

    L’ensauvagement de la société et le communautarisme partout en progression démontrent par le réel l’échec de la mondialisation heureuse et des politiques d’intégration menées par nos gouvernements depuis 50 ans. Si pour les métiers « de la main et du cœur » selon l’expression de Philippe de Villiers, les petits artisans, les commerces de proximité et le monde de la culture, les conséquences de la crise sanitaire seront désastreuses, pour ceux qui organisent la digitalisation du monde, l’empire de big data, les bénéfices et les profits seront énormes.

    C’est « ce jour d’après » le Covid 19 que nous décrit dans son nouveau livre événement Philippe de Villiers. Un monde sinistre et déshumanisé dans lequel les pauvres des pays riches enrichissent les riches des pays pauvres. Un monde digitalisé et globalisé dans (...)

  • Plaisir honteux | les éditions du remue-ménage
    https://www.editions-rm.ca/livres/plaisir-honteux

    TW pédo

    Lorsqu’un enfant est soumis à un abus sexuel par un de ses proches, il est possible (et relativement fréquent) qu’il ressente du plaisir sexuel. Le plaisir est ainsi associé aux émotions négatives et extrêmement destructrices qu’implique une relation incestueuse, et le traumatisme subi en est d’autant plus grave. Michelle Desaulniers a voulu mettre en lumière cette réalité que bon nombre d’entre nous préféreraient garder sous silence. Après avoir réalisé un film percutant d’une grande sensibilité intitulé Plaisir honteux, elle publie ce livre afin de poursuivre son questionnement sur le sujet. S’appuyant sur de nombreuses recherches scientifiques, cet ouvrage bien documenté dévoile dans toute son horreur la dynamique plaisir-abus qui s’établit entre l’agresseur et sa victime.

    Accompagnée de témoignages des plus bouleversants, la réflexion de Michelle Desaulniers nous oblige, en tant que société, à nous interroger sur notre responsabilité collective face à ce drame que vivent trop d’enfants. Devons-nous continuer d’éviter le sujet ou allons-nous regarder la réalité en face afin de trouver des solutions adéquates ?

    • d’autres via : https://twitter.com/OpalePublic/status/1220756746920132609

      " Les auteurs qui se sont penchés sur la problématique du plaisir sexuel des enfants en situation d’inceste ont décrit avec beaucoup d’indignation la manipulation extrêmement raffinée à laquelle les abuseurs soumettent leur victime . Cette indignation vient sans doute d’un constat douloureux qui semble a priori absurde : plus la relation incestueuse comporte de gratifications pour l’enfant (amour, attention, plaisir physique etc ) plus les séquelles de l’abus seront graves à long terme.

      Bref chez les enfants ainsi manipulés « en douceur » la souffrance est tout aussi vive sinon plus vive que chez ceux qui sont forcés et menacés .
      (...)
      Rappelons en effet que d’après les résultats des recherches de Jehu 1988 , 80.4 % de ses répondants (ayant ressenti du plaisir ou non ) ont participé passivement aux abus dont ils étaient victimes . Que 64.7 % ont utilisé la relation incestueuse pour recevoir de l’attention et de l’affection , que 37.2% ont participé activement à l’abus soit par besoin d’amour soit par attirance pour le plaisir physique, que 49% éprouvaient de la tendresse pour leur abuseur et que 12% (Mac Card 1985 ) déclarent être restés passifs pendant la relation à cause du plaisir physique qu’elle procurait.

      Manifestement les relations incestueuses apportent des gratificications à l’enfant tant sur le plan émotionnel que physique . Voilà un énoncé qui dérange et que tous préféreraient ignorer. Pourtant ce fait doit être reconnu et non caché et nié comme c’est généralement le cas , parce que c’est justement pour cette raison que les conséquences sont si pernicieuses . Pour un grand nombre de victimes les relations sexuelles avec l’agresseur constituent en effet l’unique possibilité de se sentir psychologiquement et physiquement appréciées et aimées ( Forward et Buck 1988 , Maltz et Holmann 1987 ).

      Pour ces enfants, recevoir ces attentions sexuelles signifie tout bonnement recevoir de l’amour .Les auteurs qui ont étudié la question du plaisir dans l’inceste s’accordent à dire que l’incapacité à reconnaître la manipulation est le propre de tout inceste commis en douceur mais que lorsque le plaisir physique est présent, il devient pratiquement impossible pour l’enfant de prendre conscience de la situation.

      Selon Courtois (1988) un grand nombre d’abuseurs se donnent beaucoup de mal pour stimuler sexuellement leur victime jusqu’à ce que celle ci soit excitée ou vive un orgasme . Les abuseurs cherchent ainsi à prouver que l’enfant voulait vraiment ces relations sexuelles.

      Ces victimes subissent un véritable lavage de cerveau leur faisant croire que ce sont elles qui sont à blâmer : certains agresseurs prennent d’autant plus de plaisir aux réponses sexuelles de l’enfant qu’elles pourront servir à justifié leur geste. C’est extrêmement perturbant pour la victime , c comme si elle entendant "tu vois tu as joui . Tu le veux vraiment et tu aimes cela .

      Courtois ajoute que devenues adultes, ces personnes voient dans la relation vécue avec l’abuseur la preuve que leur sexualité a tjs été perverse .

      Livre #Plaisir_honteux, #Michelle_Desaulniers #1998 . Québec

      #inceste #pédophilie #pédocriminalité #viol #abus_sexuels #sans_violence

    • Rappelons en effet que d’après les résultats des recherches de Jehu 1988 , 80.4 % de ses répondants (ayant ressenti du plaisir ou non ) ont participé passivement aux abus dont ils étaient victimes .

      C’est quoi « participé passivement » à l’ agression (et non à l’abus qui est un anglicisme foireux de violophiles) ?

    • yo @mad_meg je comprends que tu ais des réactions épidermiques avec le sujet, mais faut pas me rentrer dedans comme ça c’est hyper désagréable. Je sais que tu t’adresse au texte et pas à moi, mais il se trouve que les extraits que je cite me semblent sans ambiguïté ou complaisance. J’ai pas lu tout le bouquin, qui doit pouvoir être critiqué, mais je reconnais beaucoup de mon expérience dans les extraits cités, et il me semble que cet aspect de la chose est rarement dit et que c’est important de le dire. Je pense que la figure de la victime pure et innocente est extrêmement toxique. Et encore une fois, même si la ligne est ténue, il ne s’agit pas de rendre les anciennes victimes responsables des agissements,des crimes, des adultes...

  • Excédé.e.s face à l’attente aux caisses, des client.e.s abandonnent 168 caddies dans un supermarché.e ce 1er mai Idem pour d’autres magasins

    Privés de caissiers, le Géant Casino de Fréjus avait ouvert ses portes en libre-service ce samedi 1er mai.


    Illustration sexiste du Figaro, comme si les hommes étaient les seuls pousseurs de caddies.

    Mauvaise surprise pour les employés du Géant Casino de Fréjus (Var) en arrivant sur leur lieu de travail le dimanche 2 mai. La veille, plus d’une centaine de caddies ont été laissés à l’abandon dans les allées du supermarché. La raison ? Face à la longue attente aux caisses automatiques du magasin, certains clients impatients ont abandonné leur chariot avec leur course à l’intérieur.

    Bien qu’il s’agisse d’un jour férié, le supermarché avait gardé ses portes ouvertes en libre-service. L’absence de caissiers en raison de la fête du Travail a contrasté avec l’afflux de clients de ce samedi, qui ont dû se contenter des 21 caisses automatiques mises à leur disposition pour régler leurs achats. Ainsi, chaque client devait tour à tour scanner, peser, ranger et payer par carte, via l’application Casino Max ou par espèce en caisse rapide ses courses, ce qui a engendré de longues queues au moment de payer. Excédés face à l’attente, certains clients ont abandonné leur course, laissant derrière eux 168 caddies dispersés dans les allées du supermarché.

    En arrivant le lendemain, les salariés ont dû s’occuper du rangement et du réapprovisionnement des rayons. . . . . .

    La suite, sans intêret : https://www.lefigaro.fr/conso/excedes-face-a-l-attente-aux-caisses-des-clients-abandonnent-168-caddies-da

     #france #casino #monoprix  #carrefour #auchan #grande_distribution #travail #centre_commercial #Connards #travail #caissières

  • #L'espace_d'un_instant #18 : De Neskaupstaður en Islande à Vancouver au Canada

    http://liminaire.fr/entre-les-lignes/article/l-espace-d-un-instant-18

    « La grande révélation n’était jamais arrivée. En fait, la grande révélation n’arrivait peut-être jamais. C’était plutôt de petits miracles quotidiens, des illuminations, allumettes craquées à l’improviste dans le noir ; en voici une. » Vers le phare, Virginia Woolf (...) #Entre_les_lignes / #Écriture, #Poésie, #Récit, #Voix, #Sons, L’espace d’un instant, Fenêtre, #Quotidien, #Dérive, #Regard, #Sensation, (...)

    #Voyage

  • État vs éduc pop #1 : interview de la Boite Sans Projet
    https://hearthis.at/radiopikez/etat-vs-educ-pop-interview-de-la-boite-sans-projet

    La Boite sans projet est une asso d’éduc pop d’Amiens. En octobre 2020, elle intervenait à la demande de la Fédé des Centres sociaux pour animer une rencontre de jeunes de toute la France sur le thème des religions. Sarah El Haïri, secrétaire d’état à la jeunesse et à l’engagement, s’est trouvé dépourvue en découvrant que les jeunes abordent les discriminations qu’ils subissent, font des propositions pour changer ces situations et questionnent la laïcité telle qu’elle est appliquée. Elle a demandé un rapport qui vient d’être rendu public. Durée : 46 min. Source : Radio Pikez

  • #L'espace_d'un_instant #17 : De Chiraz en Iran à Okanda au Sri Lanka

    http://liminaire.fr/entre-les-lignes/article/l-espace-d-un-instant-17

    « La grande révélation n’était jamais arrivée. En fait, la grande révélation n’arrivait peut-être jamais. C’était plutôt de petits miracles quotidiens, des illuminations, allumettes craquées à l’improviste dans le noir ; en voici une. » Vers le phare, Virginia Woolf (...) #Entre_les_lignes / #Écriture, #Poésie, #Récit, #Voix, #Sons, L’espace d’un instant, Fenêtre, #Quotidien, #Dérive, #Regard, #Sensation, (...)

    #Voyage

  • #1erMai #MayDay - La petite photo du jour... J’ai préféré laisser ce pauvre brin de muguet sauvage mais assoiffé en terre, lui qui n’avait rien demandé, ni à Pétain, ni au travail...
    https://www.flickr.com/photos/valkphotos/51151370484

    Flickr

    ValK. a posté une photo :

    #photodujour #pictureoftheday #photooftheday #picoftheday #fotodeldia :seedling : #nature #naturephotography #naturaleza
    .
    1er mai 2021, #Nantes. « les petites photos »
    ¤ autres photos : https://vu.fr/valkphotos
    ¿ infos audios : frama.link/karacole
    ☆ oripeaux : frama.link/kolavalk
    ◇ rdv locaux : 44.demosphere.net
    ○ réseaux : twitter.com/valkphotos
    ♤ me soutenir : liberapay.com/ValK

  • « Ils nous parlent comme à des chiens » : le labeur éreintant des cueilleurs de muguet du 1er mai | Nicolas Mollé
    https://www.bastamag.net/Fete-des-travailleurs-premier-mai-saisonniers-conditions-travail-vente-de-

    Pénibilité, pressions de l’encadrement, faibles salaires : le labeur des ouvriers agricoles saisonniers du muguet est loin des clichés rayonnants et sympathiques associés à cette plante printanière censée symboliser la fête des travailleurs. Source : Basta !

  • « Le 1er mai est une journée de lutte où beaucoup sont tombés pour les droits des travailleurs, pas une bamboche où l’on fête le travail en sniffant du muguet.
    Il ne sera jamais ni joyeux, ni chamailleur.
    Il sera révolté »
    #PremierMaiRévolté

    Avec un super montage de Cerveaux Non Disponibles que je n’arrive pas à recopier :(
    https://twitter.com/realmarcel1/status/1387420281937989634

    « Pour retrouver un 1er mai joyeux, chamailleur parfois, ensemble, unis, nous surmonterons cette épreuve, et nous retrouverons, dès que possible, ces premiers Mai heureux, privés des rituels de cette journée...
    Vive la République Vive la France.
     »
    https://mamot.fr/system/media_attachments/files/106/144/043/086/321/039/original/91b4c5cfd3659395.mp4

    Plus que deux jours pour retrouver nos 1er mai chamailleurs chers à notre président...

    #1erMai #1erMaiRevolte #AuRevoirPresident #Macron #ViolencesPolicieres #GiletsJaunes

  • En Arabie saoudite, les déboires de l’empire des Ben Laden sous MBS AFP - 28 avril 2021

    Dans le cadre d’une campagne anticorruption menée par le prince héritier et considérée comme une purge politique, l’État a retiré le contrôle de la gestion à la famille Ben Laden.


    Les bureaux de la famille Ben Laden en Arabie saoudite, en 2004. (Crédit : Bertil Videt / CC BY 2.5)

    La richissime famille saoudienne des Ben Laden a survécu aux retombées des attentats du 11 septembre 2001 aux États-Unis, reniant la « brebis galeuse » Oussama mort il y a dix ans. Mais sa fortune s’est effondrée ces dernières années avec l’ascension fulgurante du prince héritier Mohammed ben Salmane.

    Le groupe Ben Laden, plus grand empire de construction d’Arabie saoudite fondé par le père d’Oussama ben Laden en 1931, s’est enrichi pendant des décennies grâce à sa proximité avec la famille royale. Mais il croule aujourd’hui sous les dettes.

    L’État a retiré le contrôle de la gestion à la famille Ben Laden, qui a construit une grande partie de l’Arabie saoudite moderne, dans le cadre d’une vaste campagne anti-corruption menée en 2017 par « MBS » et largement considérée comme une purge politique.

    « Les Ben Laden ont survécu au 11-Septembre mais ils n’ont pas pu survivre à MBS », a déclaré à l’AFP un proche de la famille. « On aurait pu penser que ce serait l’inverse. »

    Bakr ben Laden, ancien président du groupe et demi-frère septuagénaire d’Oussama, est en détention depuis novembre 2017, selon deux proches de la famille. Ses frères Saad et Saleh ont été un temps emprisonnés.

    Aucun chef d’accusation n’a été divulgué publiquement. Ils nient avoir commis des actes répréhensibles.

    Le gouvernement a récupéré la participation des trois frères dans la société, soit 36,2 %, d’après un document officiel vu par l’AFP.

    Les autorités ont également saisi des biens, notamment des villas, des jets privés et une collection de voitures de luxe, et ont interdit aux membres de la famille de voyager à l’étranger, selon les proches.


    Vue de Ryad. (Credit : CC BY Hic et nunc/Wikimedia Commons)

    « Loyauté et gratitude indiscutables »
    Mohammed, père d’Oussama, a fondé la société qui s’est transformée en empire de plusieurs milliards de dollars grâce à des contrats publics lucratifs de construction de palais, d’universités, d’autoroutes et de mosquées.

    Cet immigré yéménite a eu plus de cinquante enfants de plusieurs épouses. Une famille tentaculaire qui a fait l’objet d’une attention internationale après les attentats de septembre 2001 aux États-Unis, orchestrés par Oussama, le fondateur du réseau jihadiste Al-Qaïda.

    La famille l’avait renié dès 1994 en raison de ses activités et n’a pas été inquiétée par l’État saoudien.

    L’entreprise était tellement liée aux dirigeants saoudiens que Bakr ben Laden a longtemps conservé un espace de travail à la cour royale. Il servait souvent de « distributeur de billets » aux membres de la famille royale, selon l’une des sources.

    « Mon grand-père Mohammed ben Laden et mes oncles ont aidé à construire le royaume et ont servi les rois successifs, en tant que partenaires incontournables, avec une loyauté et une gratitude indiscutables. Cette relation spéciale a pris fin avec MBS », a déclaré à l’AFP un Ben Laden de la troisième génération.

    Un autre événement dramatique, survenu aussi un 11 septembre, a signé la disgrâce de la famille Ben Laden dans son pays : une grue de l’entreprise s’est écrasée dans la Grande Mosquée de La Mecque ce jour-là en 2015, tuant plus de 100 personnes. C’est également l’année d’accession au trône du père de MBS.

    Le groupe a été évincé de nouveaux projets pendant plusieurs mois. Et il a aussi subi la pression de la chute des prix du pétrole depuis 2014, qui a réduit les revenus du gouvernement et provoqué des retards de paiement, ont indiqué les deux sources.

    « Tourner la page »
    Mais la campagne de répression de 2017 a porté le coup de grâce, avec Bakr ben Laden extirpé de sa villa de Jeddah entouré d’une nuée de SUV noirs, raconte l’une des sources.

    Pour les partisans du prince héritier, cette campagne était nécessaire pour secouer une oligarchie richissime et la sortir de ses habitudes de corruption à l’ère de l’austérité budgétaire.

    Les Ben Laden « étaient corrompus comme beaucoup d’autres. Ils n’ont pas été abattus comme en Chine mais enfermés au Ritz pendant quelques mois et ont pu négocier », assure à l’AFP un proche de la cour royale.

    Les trois frères Ben Laden n’étaient pas joignables et le gouvernement n’a pas répondu aux sollicitations de l’AFP.

    La proximité de la famille avec l’ancien prince héritier saoudien Mohammed ben Nayef et son ancien bras droit Saad Aljabri – dont un fils a épousé une fille de Saad ben Laden –, expliquerait aussi l’acrimonie avec MBS.

    Bakr ben Laden a certes restitué des milliards de dollars d’actifs et d’actions mais il détient toujours des « actifs importants » à l’étranger, hors de portée du gouvernement saoudien.

    Selon l’une des sources, ses associés et lui détiennent des secrets accablants sur des versements effectués aux membres de la famille royale.

    « Les cinq dernières années ont été vraiment difficiles pour chaque membre de la famille », confie le membre de la famille Ben Laden.

    « Tout ce que nous voulons, c’est tourner complètement la page, faire libérer mon oncle Bakr et retourner faire ce que nous faisons mieux que quiconque : construire le royaume. »

    Source : https://fr.timesofisrael.com/en-arabie-saoudite-les-deboires-de-lempire-des-ben-laden-sous-mbs

    #Arabie_saoudite #Al-Qaïda #Mohammed_ben_Salmane #MBS #Osama_Ben_Laden #Ben_Laden #11/09 #La_Mecque #terrorisme #TP #Immobilier

  • Les tranchées ou « la fosse aux murènes » - Ép. 2/4 - 14-18 : La Grande Guerre racontée par les archives
    https://www.franceculture.fr/emissions/lsd-la-serie-documentaire/14-18-la-guerre-racontee-par-les-archives-24-les-tranchees-ou-la-fosse

    Je peux dire que j’ai eu peur. Ah oui ! Je ne sais pas comment j’ai pas attrapé la jaunisse parce que j’ai eu une sacrée trouille !


    https://www.bedetheque.com/BD-Trou-d-obus-26476.html
    #14_18 #Tardi

  • #15 - Consommer autrement ? Les marchés alternatifs chinois - YouTube
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_gw6hn_FWc

    10-15 minutes où je rends compte d’un article scientifique récemment paru dans une revue en sciences humaines et sociales.

    L’article original :

    I-Liang Wahn, « The Organization of Practices for Instituting Economic Processes : Alternative Food Networks in Beijing », Cultural Sociology, 2020, p. 1749975520935756.

    #consommation #chine

  • The invention of whiteness: the long history of a dangerous idea

    Before the 17th century, people did not think of themselves as belonging to something called the white race. But once the idea was invented, it quickly began to reshape the modern world.

    In 2008, a satirical blog called Stuff White People Like became a brief but boisterous sensation. The conceit was straightforward, coupling a list, eventually 136 items long, of stuff that white people liked to do or own, with faux-ethnographic descriptions that explained each item’s purported racial appeal. While some of the items were a little too obvious – indie music appeared at #41, Wes Anderson movies at #10 – others, including “awareness” (#18) and “children’s games as adults” (#102), were inspired. It was an instant hit. In its first two months alone, Stuff White People Like drew 4 million visitors, and it wasn’t long before a book based on the blog became a New York Times bestseller.

    The founder of the blog was an aspiring comedian and PhD dropout named Christian Lander, who’d been working as an advertising copywriter in Los Angeles when he launched the site on a whim. In interviews, Lander always acknowledged that his satire had at least as much to do with class as it did with race. His targets, he said, were affluent overeducated urbanites like himself. Yet there’s little doubt that the popularity of the blog, which depended for its humour on the assumption that whiteness was a contentless default identity, had much to do with its frank invocation of race. “As a white person, you’re just desperate to find something else to grab on to,” Lander said in 2009. “Pretty much every white person I grew up with wished they’d grown up in, you know, an ethnic home that gave them a second language.”

    Looking back at Stuff White People Like today, what marks the site’s age is neither the particularities of its irony nor the broad generalities of its targets. There are still plenty of white people with too much time and too much disposable income on their hands, and plenty of them still like yoga (#15), Vespa scooters (#126), and “black music that black people don’t listen to any more” (#116).

    What has changed, however – changed in ways that date Stuff White People Like unmistakably – is the cultural backdrop. Ten years ago, whiteness suffused mainstream culture like a fog: though pervasive to the point of omnipresence, it was almost nowhere distinct. When the sorts of white people for and about whom Lander was writing talked about being white, their conversations tended to span the narrow range between defensiveness and awkwardness. If they weren’t exactly clamouring to dispense with their racial identity, and the privileges that came with it, they were also not eager to embrace, or even discuss it, in public.

    In the years since, especially among the sort of people who might have once counted themselves fans of Lander’s blog, the public significance of whiteness has undergone an almost wholesale re-evaluation. Far from being a punchline for an anxious, cathartic joke, whiteness is now earnestly invoked, like neoliberalism or populism, as a central driver of cultural and political affairs. Whereas Lander could score a bestseller in 2008 with a book mocking whiteness as a bland cultural melange whose greatest sin was to be uninteresting, just nine years later Ta-Nehisi Coates would have his own bestseller that described whiteness as “an existential danger to the country and the world”.

    Much of the change, of course, had to do with Donald Trump, for whom, as Coates put it, “whiteness is neither notional nor symbolic, but is the very core of his power”. But it was not only Trump. Whiteness has been implicated in events on both sides of the Atlantic, including Brexit; mass shootings in Norway, New Zealand and the US; the George Floyd and Breonna Taylor killings; and the 6 January insurrection at the US Capitol. Alongside these real-world incidents, a bumper crop of scholarship, journalism, art and literature – by Coates, Nell Irvin Painter, Jordan Peele, Eric Foner, Ava DuVernay, Adam Serwer, Barbara and Karen Fields, Kevin Young, David Olusoga, Nikole Hannah-Jones, Colson Whitehead and Claudia Rankine, among many others – has spurred the most significant reconsideration of racial whiteness in 50 years.

    This reckoning, as it is sometimes called, has had measurable effects. In a Pew poll last October, nearly a third of white Americans said that the recent attention to racial issues signified a “major change” in American attitudes about race – another 45% said it was a “minor change” – and nearly half believed that those changes would lead to policies that would ameliorate racial inequality. In the UK, a YouGov poll from December suggested that more than a third of Britons reported that they were having more discussions about racism than they had previously.

    At the same time, this new focus on whiteness has prompted much confusion and consternation, especially among white people not used to thinking of themselves in racial terms. The Pew poll found that half of white Americans thought there was “too much” discussion of racial issues, and a similar proportion suggested that seeing racism where it didn’t exist was a bigger problem than not seeing racism where it did.

    What these recent debates have demonstrated more than anything, perhaps, is how little agreement still exists about what whiteness is and what it ought to be. Nearly everywhere in contemporary society “white” is presumed to be a meaningful index of identity that, like age and gender, is important enough to get mentioned in news accounts, tallied in political polls, and recorded in government databases. Yet what that identity is supposed to tell us is still substantially in dispute. In many ways, whiteness resembles time as seen by Saint Augustine: we presume we understand it as long as we’re not asked to explain it, but it becomes inexplicable as soon as we’re put to the test.

    A little more than a century ago, in his essay The Souls of White Folk, the sociologist and social critic WEB Du Bois proposed what still ranks as one of the most penetrating and durable insights about the racial identity we call white: “The discovery of personal whiteness among the world’s peoples is a very modern thing – a nineteenth and twentieth century matter, indeed.”

    Though radical in its time, Du Bois’s characterisation of what he called the “new religion of whiteness” – a religion founded on the dogma that “of all the hues of God, whiteness alone is inherently and obviously better than brownness and tan” – would have a profound effect on the way historians and other scholars would come to understand racial identity. In part this had to do with his insistence that a racial category like whiteness was more akin to a religious belief than a biological fact. Du Bois rejected the idea, still common in his day, that the races reflected natural divisions within the human species – as well as the nearly inevitable corollary that the physical, mental and behavioural traits associated with the white race just happened to be the ones most prized by modern societies.

    That had been the view, for instance, of Thomas Jefferson, who had attempted to delineate “the real distinctions which nature has made” between the races, in his Notes on the State of Virginia, first published in 1781. It was also the view that would appear, at least in attenuated form, two centuries later in Charles Murray and Richard J Herrnstein’s Bell Curve, which was published in 1994. Murray and Herrnstein argued that “the most plausible” explanation for the differences between Black and white populations recorded on IQ tests was “some form of mixed gene and environmental source” – in other words, that at least some of the discrepancy owes to natural differences.

    By the time The Bell Curve appeared, Du Bois’s assertion that racial categories were not biologically grounded was widely accepted. In the years since, the scientific evidence for that understanding has only become more overwhelming. A 2017 study examined the DNA of nearly 6,000 people from around the world and found that while some genetic differences among humans can be traced to various ancestral lineages – for example, eastern African, southern European or circumpolar – none of those lineages correspond to traditional ideas about race.

    If it’s easy enough for many people today to accept that whiteness is a purely sociological phenomenon – in some quarters, the idea that “race is a social construct” has become a cliche – the same cannot be said for Du Bois’s suggestion that whiteness is a relatively new thing in human history. And yet just as in the case of genetic science, during the second half of the 20th century a number of historians demonstrated that while Du Bois was off by a few hundred years, he was correct that it was only in the modern period that people started to think of themselves as belonging to something called the white race.

    Of course, it’s important not to overstate the case: the evolution of the idea of whiteness was messy and often indistinct. As the historian Nell Irvin Painter has cautioned, “white identity didn’t just spring to life full-blown and unchanging”. It had important antecedents that included a growing sense of a pan-European identity; longstanding cultural associations that saw white as a symbol of purity and virtue; and bog-standard ethnocentrism.

    Still, with only slightly exaggerated precision, we can say that one of the most crucial developments in “the discovery of personal whiteness” took place during the second half of the 17th century, on the peripheries of the still-young British empire. What’s more, historians such as Oscar and Mary Handlin, Edmund Morgan and Edward Rugemer have largely confirmed Du Bois’s suspicion that while xenophobia appears to be fairly universal among human groupings, the invention of a white racial identity was motivated from the start by a need to justify the enslavement of Africans. In the words of Eric Williams, a historian who later became the first prime minister of Trinidad and Tobago, “slavery was not born of racism: rather, racism was the consequence of slavery”.

    If you asked an Englishman in the early part of the 17th century what colour skin he had, he might very well have called it white. But the whiteness of his skin would have suggested no more suitable basis for a collective identity than the roundness of his nose or the baldness of his head. If you asked him to situate himself within the rapidly expanding borders of the known world, he would probably identify himself, first and most naturally, as an Englishman. If that category proved too narrow – if, say, he needed to describe what it was he had in common with the French and the Dutch that he did not share with Ottomans or Africans – he would almost certainly call himself a Christian instead.

    That religious identity was crucial for the development of the English slave trade – and eventually for the development of racial whiteness. In the early 17th century, plantation owners in the West Indies and in the American colonies largely depended on the labour of European indentured servants. These servants were considered chattel and were often treated brutally – the conditions on Barbados, England’s wealthiest colony, were notorious – but they were fortunate in at least one respect: because they were Christian, by law they could not be held in lifetime captivity unless they were criminals or prisoners of war.

    Africans enjoyed no such privilege. They were understood to be infidels, and thus the “perpetual enemies” of Christian nations, which made it legal to hold them as slaves. By 1640 or so, the rough treatment of indentured servants had started to diminish the supply of Europeans willing to work on the sugar and tobacco plantations, and so the colonists looked increasingly to slavery, and the Atlantic-sized loophole that enabled it, to keep their fantastically profitable operations supplied with labour.

    The plantation owners understood very well that their cruel treatment of indentured Europeans, and their even crueller treatment of enslaved Africans, might lead to thoughts – or worse – of vengeance. Significantly outnumbered, they lived in constant fear of uprisings. They were particularly afraid of incidents such as Bacon’s Rebellion, in 1676, which saw indentured Europeans fighting side-by-side with free and enslaved Africans against Virginia’s colonial government.

    To ward off such events, the plantation owners initially sought to protect themselves by giving their “Christian” servants legal privileges not available to their enslaved “Negroes”. The idea was to buy off the allegiance of indentured Europeans with a set of entitlements that, however meagre, set them above enslaved Africans. Toward the end of the 17th century, this scheme witnessed a significant shift: many of the laws that regulated slave and servant behaviour – the 1681 Servant Act in Jamaica, for example, which was later copied for use in South Carolina – began to describe the privileged class as “whites” and not as “Christians”.

    One of the more plausible explanations for this change, made by Rugemer and the historian Katharine Gerbner, among others, is that the establishment of whiteness as a legal category solved a religious dilemma. By the 1670s, Christian missionaries, including the Quaker George Fox, were insisting that enslaved Africans should be inducted into the Christian faith. The problem this posed for the planters was obvious: if their African labourers became Christians, and no longer “perpetual enemies” of Christendom, then on what legal grounds could they be enslaved? And what about the colonial laws that gave special privileges to Christians, laws whose authors apparently never contemplated the possibility that Africans might someday join the faith?

    The planters tried to resolve the former dilemma by blocking the conversion of enslaved Africans, on the grounds, as the Barbados Assembly put it in 1680, that such conversion would “endanger the island, inasmuch as converted negroes grow more perverse and intractable than others”. When that didn’t work (the Bishop of London objected) they instead passed laws guaranteeing that baptism could not be invoked as grounds for seeking freedom.

    But the latter question, about privileges for Christians, required the colonialists to think in a new way. No longer could their religious identity separate them and their servants from enslaved Africans. Henceforth they would need what Morgan called “a screen of racial contempt”. Henceforth, they would need to start thinking of themselves as white.

    As late as 1694, a slave-ship captain could still question the racial logic newly employed to justify his trade. (“I can’t think there is any intrinsick value in one colour more than another, nor that white is better than black, only we think it so because we are so,” Thomas Phillips wrote in his diary.) But whiteness quickly proved itself a powerful weapon that allowed transatlantic capitalism to secure the labour – “white” and African – it needed. As the historian Theodore Allen put it, “The plantation bourgeoisie deliberately extended a privileged status to the white poor of all categories as a means of turning to African slavery as the basis of its system of production.”

    The economic utility of the idea of whiteness helped spread it rapidly around the world. Du Bois was not wrong to call it a religion, for like a religion, it operated at every psychological, sociological and political scale, from the most intimate to the most public. Like a religion, too, it adapted to local conditions. What it meant to be white in British Virginia was not identical to what it would mean in New York before the American civil war, in India during the Raj, in Georgia during Jim Crow, in Australia after Federation, or in Germany during the Third Reich. But what united all these expressions was a singular idea: that some group of people called white was naturally superior to all others. As Benjamin Disraeli, the Victorian prime minister and one of the most committed race ideologists of his time, put it, “race implies difference, difference implies superiority, and superiority leads to predominance”.

    The idea of whiteness, in other words, was identical to the idea of white supremacy. For the three centuries that preceded the civil rights movement, this presumption was accepted at the most refined levels of culture, by people who, in other contexts, were among the most vocal advocates of human liberty and equality. It is well known that Immanuel Kant argued we should treat every other person “always at the same time as an end and never simply as a means”. Less well known is his proposal, in his Lectures on Physical Geography, published in 1802, that “humanity is at its greatest perfection in the race of the whites”, or his claim, in his notes for his Lectures on Anthropology, that native “Americans and Negroes cannot govern themselves. Thus, serve only as slaves”. Even Gandhi, during the early part of his life, accepted the basic lie of whiteness, arguing that “the English and the Indians spring from a common stock, called the Indo-Aryan” and that “the white race in South Africa should be the predominating race”.

    As though aware of their own guilty conscience, the evangelists of the religion of whiteness were always desperate to prove that it was something other than mere prejudice. Where the Bible still held sway, they bent the story of Noah’s son Ham into a divine apologia for white supremacy. When anatomy and anthropology gained prestige in the 18th and 19th centuries, they cited pseudo-scientific markers of racial difference like the cephalic index and the norma verticalis. When psychology took over in the 20th, they told themselves flattering stories about divergences in IQ.

    For all their evident success, the devotees of the religion of whiteness were never able to achieve the total vision they longed for. In part, this was because there were always dissenters, including among those who stood to gain from it, who rejected the creed of racial superiority. Alongside those remembered by history – Elizabeth Freeman, Toussaint Louverture, Harriet Tubman, Sitting Bull, Franz Boas, Haviva Reik, Martin Luther King Jr, Nelson Mandela – there were millions of now-forgotten people who used whatever means they possessed to resist it. In part, too, the nonsense logic that regulated the boundaries of whiteness – the one-drop rule in the US, which said that anyone with Black ancestry could not be white; the endless arguments over what “caucasian” was supposed to mean; the “honorary Aryan” status that Hitler extended to the Japanese – was no match for the robust complexities of human society.

    Yet if the religion of whiteness was never able to gain acceptance as an unchallengeable scientific fact, it was still hugely successful at shaping social reality. Some of this success had to do with its flexibility. Thanks to its role in facilitating slavery, whiteness in the US was often defined in opposition to blackness, but between those two extremes was room for tactical accommodations. In 1751, Benjamin Franklin could claim that only the English and Saxons “make the principal Body of White People on the Face of the Earth”, and nearly 80 years later, Ralph Waldo Emerson would insist that the Irish, like the Chinese and the Native American, were not caucasian. Over time, however, the definition of who counted as culturally white expanded to include Catholics from southern Europe, the Irish and even Jews, who for centuries had been seen as quintessential outsiders.

    The religion of whiteness also found success by persuading its adherents that they, and not the people they oppressed, were the real victims. In 1692, colonial legislators in British Barbados complained that “sundry of the Negroes and Slaves of this island, have been long preparing, contriving, conspiring and designing a most horrid, bloody, damnable and detestable rebellion, massacre, assassination and destruction”. From there, it was a more or less straight line to Woodrow Wilson’s claim, in 1903, that the southerners who started the Ku Klux Klan were “aroused by the mere instinct of self-preservation”, and to Donald Trump’s warning, when he launched his presidential campaign in 2015, that Mexican immigrants to the US were “bringing drugs. And they’re bringing crime. And they’re rapists.”

    Where the religion of whiteness was not able to win converts with persuasion or fear, it deployed cruder measures to secure its power, conscripting laws, institutions, customs and churches to enforce its prerogatives. Above all, it depended on force. By the middle of the 20th century, the presumption that a race of people called white were superior to all others had supplied the central justification not just for the transatlantic slave trade but also for the near-total extinction of Indians in North America; for Belgian atrocities in Congo; for the bloody colonisation of India, east Africa and Australia by Britain; for the equally bloody colonisation of north and west Africa and south-east Asia by France; for the deployment of the Final Solution in Nazi Germany; and for the apartheid state in South Africa. And those are merely the most extreme examples. Alongside those murdered, raped and enslaved in the name of whiteness, the total number of whom runs at least to nine figures, are an almost unthinkable number of people whose lives were shortened, constrained, antagonised and insulted on a daily basis.

    It was not until the aftermath of the second world war that frank endorsements of white supremacy were broadly rejected in Anglo-American public discourse. That this happened at all was thanks largely to the efforts of civil rights and anti-colonial activists, but the war itself also played a role. Though the horrors of the Nazi regime had been more acute in their intensity than anything happening at the time in the US or the UK, they supplied an unflattering mirror that made it impossible to ignore the racism that was still prevalent in both countries. (A New York Times editorial in 1946 made the connection explicit, arguing that “this is a particularly good year to campaign against the evils of bigotry, prejudice and race hatred because we have recently witnessed the defeat of enemies who tried to found a mastery of the world upon such a cruel and fallacious policy”.)

    Political appeals to white solidarity diminished slowly but certainly. In 1955, for example, Winston Churchill could still imagine that “Keep England White” was a winning general-election theme, and even as late as 1964, Peter Griffiths, a Conservative candidate for parliament, would score a surprise victory after endorsing a nakedly racist slogan. By 1968, however, when Enoch Powell delivered his “Rivers of Blood” speech – in which he approvingly quoted a constituent who lamented that “in 15 or 20 years’ time, the black man will have the whip hand over the white man” – he would be greeted by outrage in the Times, which called it an “evil speech”, and expelled from the Conservative shadow cabinet. In the US, too, where a century of racial apartheid had followed a century of slavery, open expressions of racism met with increasing public censure. Throughout the 60s and into the 70s, Congress passed a series of statutes that rendered explicit racial discrimination illegal in many areas of public life.

    This gradual rejection of explicit, government-enforced white supremacy was hugely consequential in terms of public policy. Yet it did not mean that whiteness, as a political force, had lost its appeal: in the weeks after Powell’s speech, to take just one example, a Gallup poll found that 74% of Britons supported his suggestion that brown-skinned immigrants ought to be repatriated. It also left unresolved the more difficult question of whether whiteness was truly separable from its long history of domination.

    Instead of looking too hard at the sordid history of whiteness, many white people found it easier to decide that the civil rights movement had accomplished all the anti-racism work that needed doing. The result was a strange détente. On the one hand, whiteness retreated as a subject of public attention, giving way to a new rhetoric of racial colour-blindness. On the other hand, vast embedded economic and cultural discrepancies allowed white people continue to exercise the institutional and structural power that had accumulated on their behalf across the previous three centuries.

    Similarly, while blatant assertions of white power – such as the 1991 gubernatorial campaign of David Duke, a former Ku Klux Klan grand wizard, in Louisiana – met with significant elite resistance, what counted as racist (and therefore subject to the taboo) was limited to only the most flagrant instances of racial animus. Among liberals and conservatives, racism was widely understood as a species of hatred, which meant that any white person who could look into his heart and find an absence of open hostility could absolve himself of racism.

    Even the phrase “white supremacy”, which predates the word “racism” in English by 80 years and once described a system of interlocking racial privileges that touched every aspect of life, was redefined to mean something rare and extreme. In 1923, for example, under the headline White Supremacy Menaced, the New York Times would print an article which took at face value a Harvard professor’s warning that “one of the gravest and most acute problems before the world today” was “the problem of saving the white race from submergence in the darker races”. In 1967, the US supreme court invalidated a law that prevented whites from marrying people who were not white, on the grounds that it was “obviously an endorsement of the doctrine of White Supremacy”, and two years later, the critic Albert Murray would use the phrase to describe everything from anti-Black prejudice in police departments to bigoted media representations of Black life to influential academic studies such as Daniel Patrick Moynihan’s The Negro Family.

    By the 80s and 90s, however, at least in white-dominated media, “white supremacy” was reserved only for the most shocking and retrograde examples of racism. For many people who grew up at that time, as I did, the phrase evoked cross burnings and racist hooligans, rather than an intricate web of laws and norms that maintained disparities of wealth, education, housing, incarceration and access to political power.

    Perhaps most perverse of all was the charge of “reverse racism”, which emboldened critics of affirmative action and other “race-conscious” policies to claim that they, and not the policies’ proponents, were the true heralds of racial equality. In 1986, Ronald Reagan went so far as to defend his opposition to minority-hiring quotas by invoking Martin Luther King Jr: “We want a colour-blind society,” Reagan declared. “A society, that in the words of Dr King, judges people not by the colour of their skin, but by the content of their character.”

    Of course not everyone accepted this new dispensation, which scholars have variously described as “structural racism”, “symbolic racism” or “racism without racists”. In the decades following the civil rights movement, intellectuals and activists of colour continued to develop the Du Boisian intellectual tradition that understood whiteness as an implement of social domination. In the 80s and 90s, a group of legal scholars that included Derrick Bell, Kimberlé Crenshaw, Cheryl Harris and Richard Delgado produced a body of research that became known as critical race theory, which was, in Bell’s words, “ideologically committed to the struggle against racism, particularly as institutionalised in and by law”.

    Alongside critical race theory, and in many ways derived from it, a new academic trend, known as whiteness studies, took shape. Historians working in this subfield demonstrated the myriad ways in which the pursuit of white supremacy – like the pursuit of wealth and the subjection of women – had been one of the central forces that gave shape to Anglo-American history. For many of them, the bill of indictment against whiteness was total: as the historian David Roediger put it, “it is not merely that whiteness is oppressive and false; it is that whiteness is nothing but oppressive and false.”

    In the fall of 1992, a new journal co-founded by Noel Ignatiev, one of the major figures in whiteness studies, appeared in bookstores around Cambridge, Massachusetts. Called Race Traitor, the magazine wore its motto and guiding ethos on its cover: Treason to Whiteness is Loyalty to Humanity. The issue opened with an editorial whose headline was equally provocative: “Abolish the white race – by any means necessary.” This demand, with its echoes of Sartre by way of Malcolm X, was not, as it turned out, a call for violence, much less for genocide. As Ignatiev and his co-editor, John Garvey, explained, they took as their foundational premise that “the white race is a historically constructed social formation”, a sort of club whose membership “consists of those who partake of the privileges of the white skin in this society”.

    For Ignatiev and Garvey, whiteness had been identified with white supremacy for so long that it was folly to think it was salvageable. “So long as the white race exists,” they wrote, “all movements against racism are doomed to fail.” What was necessary, in their view, was for the people called “white” – people like them – to forcefully reject that identification and the racial privileges that came with it. Whiteness, they suggested, was a fragile, unstable thing, such that even a small number of determined attacks – objecting to racist educational programmes at a school board meeting, say, or capturing racist police behaviour on video – ought to be able to unsettle the whole edifice.

    But while whiteness studies produced much work that still makes for bracing, illuminating reading, it was soon mocked as one more instance of the very privilege it meant to oppose. “The whole enterprise gives whites a kind of standing in the multicultural paradigm they have never before enjoyed,” Margaret Talbot wrote in the New York Times in 1997. “And it involves them, inevitably, in a journey of self-discovery in which white people’s thoughts about their own whiteness acquire a portentous new legitimacy.” Even Ignatiev would later say he “wanted nothing to do with” it.

    By the mid-2000s, the “colour-blind” ideological system had become so successful that it managed to shield even the more obvious operations of whiteness – the overwhelming numbers of white people in corporate boardrooms, for instance, or in the media and tech industries – from much censure. In the US, when racial disparities could not be ignored, it was often suggested that time was the only reliable remedy: as the numerical proportion of whites dwindled, so too would their political and economic power diminish. (Never mind that whiteness had managed to escape predictions of demographic doom before, by integrating groups it had previously kept on its margins.)

    Meanwhile, younger white liberals, the sort of people who might have read Bell or Crenshaw or Ignatiev at university, tended to duck the subject of their own racial identity with a shuffling awkwardness. Growing up white in the decades after the civil rights movement was a little like having a rich but disreputable cousin: you never knew quite what to make of him, or the extravagant gifts he bought for your birthday, and so you found it easier, in general, just not to say anything.

    The absence of talk about whiteness was so pervasive that it became possible to convince yourself that it constituted one of the central obstacles to racial progress. When I was in graduate school during the early 00s, toward the end of the whiteness-studies boomlet, I often heard – including from my own mouth – the argument that the real problem was that white people weren’t talking enough about their racial identity. If you could get people to acknowledge their whiteness, we told ourselves, then it might be possible to get them to acknowledge the unfair ways in which whiteness had helped them.

    The trouble with this notion would become clear soon enough, when the presidency of Barack Obama offered the surest test to date of the proposition that whiteness had separated itself from its supremacist past. Though Obama’s election was initially hailed by some as proof that the US was entering a new post-racial phase, it took just a few months for the Tea party, a conservative movement ostensibly in favour of small government, to suggest that the opposite was closer to the truth.

    In September 2009, Jimmy Carter caused a stir by suggesting that the Tea party’s opposition was something other than a principled reaction to government spending. “I think an overwhelming portion of the intensely demonstrated animosity toward President Barack Obama is based on the fact that he is a black man,” Carter said. (Carter’s speculation was later backed up by research: the political scientist Ashley Jardina, for instance, found that “more racially resentful whites are far more likely to say they support the Tea party and rate it more positively.”)

    The white backlash to Obama’s presidency continued throughout his two terms, helped along by Rupert Murdoch’s media empire and the Republican party, which won majorities in both houses of Congress by promising to obstruct anything Obama tried to accomplish. Neither project kept Obama from a second term, but this does not mean that they were without effect: though Obama lost white voters by 12% in 2008, four years later he would lose them by 20%, the worst showing among white voters for a successful candidate in US history.

    At the same time, Obama’s victory suggested to some observers the vindication of the demographic argument: the changing racial composition of the US appeared to have successfully neutralised the preferences of the white electorate, at least as far as the presidency was concerned. (“There just are not enough middle-aged white guys that we can scrape together to win,” said one Republican after Obama’s victory.)

    What’s more, the first wave of Black Lives Matter protests, which attracted international attention in the summer of 2014, prompted a torrent of demonstrative introspection among white people, especially online. As the critic Hua Hsu would write, half-teasingly, in 2015, “it feels as though we are living in the moment when white people, on a generational scale, have become self-aware”.

    Not for the first time, however, what was visible on Twitter was a poor indicator of deeper social trends. As we now know, the ways in which whiteness was becoming most salient at mid-decade were largely not the ways that prompted recent university graduates to announce their support for Rhodes Must Fall on Instagram. Far more momentous was the version of white identity politics that appreciated the advantages of whiteness and worried about them slipping away; that saw in immigration an existential threat; and that wanted, more than anything, to “Take Back Control” and to “Make America Great Again”.

    It was this version of whiteness that helped to power the twin shocks of 2016: first Brexit and then Trump. The latter, especially – not just the fact of Trump’s presidency but the tone of it, the unrestrained vengeance and vituperation that animated it – put paid to any lingering questions about whether whiteness had renounced its superiority complex. Ta-Nehisi Coates, who more than any other single person had been responsible for making the bumbling stereotype of whiteness offered up by Stuff White People Like seem hopelessly myopic, understood what was happening immediately. “Trump truly is something new – the first president whose entire political existence hinges on the fact of a black president,” Coates wrote in the autumn of 2017. “His ideology is white supremacy, in all its truculent and sanctimonious power.”

    In 1860, a man who called himself “Ethiop” published an essay in The Anglo-African Magazine, which has been called the first Black literary journal in the US. The author behind the pseudonym was William J Wilson, a former bootmaker who later served as the principal of Brooklyn’s first public school for Black children. Wilson’s essay bore the headline, What Shall We Do with the White People?

    The article was meant in part meant to mock the white authors and statesmen who had endlessly asked themselves a similar question about Black people in the US. But it was not only a spoof. In a tone that mimicked the smug paternalism of his targets, he laid out a comprehensive indictment of white rule in the country: the plunder and murder of the “Aborigines”; the theft and enslavement of Africans; the hypocrisy embodied by the American constitution, government and white churches. At the root of all this, he wrote, was “a long continued, extensive and almost complete system of wrongdoing” that made the men and women who enabled it into “restless, grasping” marauders. “In view of the existing state of things around us,” Wilson proposed at the end, “let our constant thought be, what for the best good of all shall we do with the White people?”

    Much has changed since Wilson’s time, but a century and a half on, his question remains no less pertinent. For some people, such as the political scientist Eric Kaufmann, whiteness is what it has always pretended to be. Though he acknowledges that races are not genetically defined, Kaufmann nevertheless sees them as defensible divisions of humanity that have some natural basis: they emerge, he suggests, “through a blend of unconscious colour-processing and slowly evolved cultural conventions”. In his 2019 book Whiteshift, Kaufmann argues that the history of oppression by white people is “real, but moot”, and he advocates for something he calls “symmetrical multiculturalism”, in which “identifying as white, or with a white tradition of nationhood, is no more racist than identifying as black”. What shall we do with the white people? Kaufmann thinks we should encourage them to take pride in being white, lest they turn to more violent means: “Freezing out legitimate expressions of white identity allows the far right to own it, and acts as a recruiting sergeant for their wilder ideas.”

    From another perspective – my own, most days – whiteness means something different from other racial and ethnic identities because it has had a different history than other racial and ethnic identities. Across three-and-a-half centuries, whiteness has been wielded as a weapon on a global scale; Blackness, by contrast, has often been used as a shield. (As Du Bois put it, what made whiteness new and different was “the imperial width of the thing – the heaven-defying audacity.”) Nor is there much reason to believe that whiteness will ever be content to seek “legitimate expressions”, whatever those might look like. The religion of whiteness had 50 years to reform itself along non-supremacist lines, to prove that it was fit for innocuous coexistence. Instead, it gave us Donald Trump.

    Yet even this does not fully answer Wilson’s question. For if it’s easy enough to agree in theory that the only reasonable moral response to the long and very much non-moot history of white supremacy is the abolitionist stance advocated in the pages of Race Traitor – ie, to make whiteness meaningless as a group identity, to shove it into obsolescence alongside “Prussian” and “Etruscan” – it seems equally apparent that whiteness is not nearly so fragile as Ignatiev and Garvey had imagined. Late in his life, James Baldwin described whiteness as “a moral choice”, as a way of emphasising that it was not a natural fact. But whiteness is more than a moral choice: it is a dense network of moral choices, the vast majority of which have been made for us, often in times and places very distant from our own. In this way whiteness is a problem like climate change or economic inequality: it is so thoroughly imbricated in the structure of our everyday lives that it makes the idea of moral choices look quaint.

    As with climate change, however, the only thing more difficult than such an effort would be trying to live with the alternative. Whiteness may seem inevitable and implacable, and Toni Morrison surely had it right when she said that the world “will not become unracialised by assertion”. (To wake up tomorrow and decide I am no longer white would help no one.) Even so, after 350 years, it remains the case, as Nell Irvin Painter argues, that whiteness “is an idea, not a fact”. Not alone, and not without much work to repair the damage done in its name, it still must be possible to change our minds.

    https://www.theguardian.com/news/2021/apr/20/the-invention-of-whiteness-long-history-dangerous-idea
    #blanchité #races #invention #histoire #race_blanche #modernité

    ping @cede @karine4

  • #L'espace_d'un_instant #16 : De Zvenigorod en Russie à Moscazzano en Italie
    http://liminaire.fr/entre-les-lignes/article/l-espace-d-un-instant-16

    « La grande révélation n’était jamais arrivée. En fait, la grande révélation n’arrivait peut-être jamais. C’était plutôt de petits miracles quotidiens, des illuminations, allumettes craquées à l’improviste dans le noir ; en voici une. » Vers le phare, Virginia Woolf (...) #Entre_les_lignes / #Écriture, #Poésie, #Récit, #Voix, #Sons, L’espace d’un instant, Fenêtre, #Quotidien, #Dérive, #Regard, #Sensation, (...)

    #Voyage

  • Châlons-en-Champagne – himmlisches Wesen - Stadt Land Kunst (19/04/...
    https://diasp.eu/p/12774772

    Châlons-en-Champagne – himmlisches Wesen - Stadt Land Kunst (19/04/2021) - Die ganze Doku | ARTE

    Châlons-en-Champagne – himmlisches Wesen | Stadt Land Kunst (19/04/2021)

    Im Nordosten Frankreichs liegt die von mehreren Wasserläufen durchzogene Stadt Châlons-en-Champagne. Ihre Altstadt mit Fachwerkhäusern ist ebenso sehenswert wie die sakralen Monumente, darunter die Kathedrale Saint-Etienne. Im 18. Châlons-en-Champagne – himmlisches Wesen - Stadt Land Kunst (19/04/2021) - Die ganze Doku | ARTE

  • Au Poste #15 avec Olivier Tesquet, auteur d’« État d’urgence technologique (...) - davduf.net
    http://www.davduf.net/au-poste-15-avec-olivier-tesquet-auteur-d-etat-d

    Depuis plus de 10 ans, l’homme-machine Olivier Tesquet traque nos traces, et le joyeux capitalisme de surveillance. On l’a convoqué #AuPoste. Il est resté près de deux heures et demi, passionnantes, et glaçantes. Tesquet parle comme son livre « État d’urgence technologique » (Premier Parallèle) se déguste : avec précision et concision. Tesquet nous raconte par le menu comment, désormais, sanitaire, sécuritaire et militaire se conjuguent au présent et à l’omniprésent. « On me demande souvent s’il faut (...)

    #Google #Hikvision #Palantir #Amazon #Facebook #algorithme #CCTV #biométrie #facial #reconnaissance #vidéo-surveillance #GAFAM #surveillance #drone (...)

    ##LaQuadratureduNet

  • Désobéissant.e.s !

    Face à l’#urgence_climatique, une frange importante de la jeunesse a fait le choix de la désobéissance civile et de l’action. Le passionnant récit, en immersion, d’une mobilisation sans précédent.

    Après un été 2018 marqué par la canicule, les incendies et la démission fracassante de Nicolas Hulot, un groupe de jeunes gens, affolés par l’inaction des gouvernements face à la crise climatique, décide d’unir ses forces. Un QG, La Base, est loué en plein Paris. En germe depuis la COP21, une internationale informelle du climat relie différents mouvements de contestation européens : Extinction Rebellion, Ende Gelände, Alternatiba, ANV-COP21… Parmi eux, des jeunes de moins de 30 ans. Certains, comme Élodie et Pauline, ont lâché un poste prestigieux pour se consacrer à un combat qu’ils jugent crucial. Après une première victoire – la pétition baptisée « L’Affaire du siècle » et ses 2 millions de signatures en quinze jours –, les activistes de La Base organisent 134 décrochages de portraits d’Emmanuel Macron dans les mairies, retransmis sur les réseaux sociaux, afin de dénoncer « le vide de sa politique écologique ». C’est leur première grande action de désobéissance civile. Le documentaire suit ces « désobéissants » en action et dans l’intimité : des « gilets jaunes » à la pandémie de Covid-19, l’année 2020 va les mettre à l’épreuve.

    Sentiment d’urgence
    Alizée Chiappini et Adèle Flaux captent l’émergence d’une génération qui, à sa façon pragmatique, ouverte et combative, imagine un nouvel engagement citoyen. Fonctionnant en réseau, les militants de La Base n’hésitent pas à traverser la Manche pour prendre des leçons de non-violence chez les cousins britanniques ou à se rapprocher des « gilets jaunes » pour rassembler les luttes sociales et environnementales. Ponctué de moments forts, comme le blocage de La Défense, « la république des pollueurs », face à des cadres ulcérés ou approbateurs, ce récit limpide, parcouru par un sentiment d’urgence, fait vivre de l’intérieur un an et demi d’une mobilisation sans précédent, combat qui vaudra à ses « meneurs », arrestations, gazages et poursuites juridiques. Ce document passionnant tient à la fois du manuel politique et du roman initiatique, l’aventure passant par différentes phases quand l’enthousiasme fait place à la désillusion avant de retrouver un nouveau souffle.

    https://www.arte.tv/fr/videos/093803-001-F/desobeissant-e-s

    #résistance #internationale_du_climat #climat #COP21 #COP_21 #jeunesse #Alternatiba #activisme #action_directe #non-violence #désobéissance_civile #2018 #Greta_Thunberg #extension_rebellion #Elodie_Nace #Pauline_Boyer #Notre_affaire_à_tous #inaction_climatique #l'affaire_du_siècle #affaire_du_siècle #Marie_Toussaint #marche_mondiale #Elliot_Lepers #gilets_jaunes #Priscilla_Ludosky #justice_climatique #justice_sociale #les_amis_de_la_Terre #marche_pour_le_climat #marche_du siècle #16_mars_2019 #convergence_des_luttes #Ende_Gelände #urgence

    #film #documentaire #film_documentaire

  • #17Avril2021 Vingt-cinq ans de luttes paysannes pour faire de la souveraineté alimentaire une réalité

    Harare, le 23 mars 2021) Lors du Sommet mondial de l’alimentation de 1996, La Via Campesina a mis des mots sur sa vision pour s’opposer au modèle industriel capitaliste à l’origine de la faim, des inégalités et de la crise climatique en définissant la « souveraineté alimentaire ». La souveraineté alimentaire est le droit des personnes à produire de manière autonome des aliments sains, nutritifs, adaptés au climat et à la culture, en utilisant les ressources locales et des pratiques agroécologiques, afin de répondre en priorité aux besoins alimentaires locaux de leurs communautés. La souveraineté alimentaire est nécessaire notamment pour garantir la sécurité alimentaire.

    https://entreleslignesentrelesmots.blog/2021/04/10/17avril2021-vingt-cinq-ans-de-luttes-paysannes-pour-fai

    #international #souverainetéalimentaire

  • Rollerball Official Trailer #1 - #James_Caan Movie (1975) HD
    https://youtube.com/watch?v=aVUxK1mNups&feature=share

    Subscribe to TRAILERS: http://bit.ly/sxaw6h Subscribe to COMING SOON: http://bit.ly/H2vZUn Subscribe to CLASSIC TRAILERS: http://bit.ly/1u43jDe Like us on FACEBOOK: http://goo.gl/dHs73 Follow us on TWITTER: http://bit.ly/1ghOWmt Rollerball Trailer - Directed by Norman Jewison and starring James Caan, John Houseman, John Beck, Moses Gunn, John Normington. In 2018 corporations have replaced countries and rollerball, a ultra violent game is used to placate the people. MGM - 1975

  • #L'espace_d'un_instant #15
    http://liminaire.fr/entre-les-lignes/article/l-espace-d-un-instant-15

    « La grande révélation n’était jamais arrivée. En fait, la grande révélation n’arrivait peut-être jamais. C’était plutôt de petits miracles quotidiens, des illuminations, allumettes craquées à l’improviste dans le noir ; en voici une. » Vers le phare, Virginia Woolf De Phnom Penh au Cambodge à Rajkot en Inde (...) #Entre_les_lignes / #Écriture, #Poésie, #Récit, #Voix, #Sons, L’espace d’un instant, Fenêtre, #Quotidien, #Dérive, #Regard, #Sensation, (...)

    #Voyage