• The miner and the neon fish: decolonizing Alpine ecologies

    This is the proposal that won the third price in the Competition (Wettbewerb) that was created in the aftermath of the contestation of monuments worldwide that had some link to colonialism, slavery and racism https://denk-mal-denken.ch.

    Rony Emmenegger und Stephan Hochleithner, who are both political geographers at the university of Basel won the third price in this competition for their proposals that calls attention to the non-human aspects of the guilding of the hydropower stations Oberhasli and its ecological costs. See: https://denk-mal-denken.ch/wettbewerb-publikumspreis/denkmal/the-miner-and-the-neon-fish-decolonizing-alpine-ecologies.

    #Suisse #hydro-power #décolonial #decolonial #monument

    • Next to a serpentine road, halfway up to Grimsel pass when approaching from the North, stands the miner (Der Mineur), silently splitting rock with his pneumatic hammer. The statue was erected to honor the construction workers of the hydropower stations Oberhasli, whose work has been shaping an Alpine landscape since the early twentieth century. At the top of Grimsel, catchment lakes, water dams, power stations, and power poles morph into a hydroelectric infrastructure, producing energy and carrying it down towards the lowland valleys. Honoring the work of those who brought that infrastructure into being appears indeed justified in light of their sacrifices on the altar of a capitalist mode of production. Throughout the last century, construction work at almost 2000 meters altitude has been particularly challenging for both humans and machines – a challenge «mastered» through a continuous advance of engineering and technology with success increasing over time.

      The sole focus on human achievements, however, obscures the ecological costs and consequences that the extraction of hydropower involves, especially for fish, aquatic organisms, rivers, but also Alpine ecologies more broadly. With our graphic installation – the miner and the neon fish – we aim at problematizing a human-centric historiography of progress that obscures the ecological consequences of hydropower production. We do so by evocatively placing a neon fish under the miner’s pneumatic hammer. It serves as a visual metaphor for the electro-optical connection between humans and the fish, and the latter’s electrostatic discharge in contact with the miner and his machine. And yet, the relation between humans and their environments is not that clear-cut when it comes to commemoration, as we will elaborate in the following.

      The use of hydropower, as a renewable energy source, has a long tradition in Switzerland. In the Grimsel region, the development of hydropower infrastructure intensified at large scale with a first mega dam project in 1925 – the Spitallamm dam. Construction work went on from 1925 to 1932 and resulted in the 114-meter-high dam – the world’s largest at the time. Since then, hydropower infrastructure has been gradually extended. Today, it connects 13 hydropower plants and eight storage lakes, producing between 2100 and 2300 gigawatt hours of electric energy annually.1 A further extension is currently in progress with the construction of a new dam replacing the existing Sptiallamm dam – because it cracked. The finalization of this new dam is scheduled for 2025 and it will then not only secure, but further increase the capacity of the hydroelectric infrastructure – in line with Switzerland’s Energy Strategy 2050 and the envisioned transition towards renewable energy sources after the nuclear phase-out.

      Currently, an exhibition at the UNESCO/KWO Visitors Center2 close to the dam provides visual and acoustic insights into the construction works back in the late 1920s and those ongoing at the new dam today.3 The exhibition includes an outline of the ongoing dam replacement project, compiles a series of engineering schemes, and posts statements of workers involved in the ongoing construction. These exhibition elements are placed in a broader historical context of construction work at the site: a number of selected historical photographs and a short 5-minutes video provide lively insights into the construction work back in the late 1920s. They show laborers at work and demonstrate the logistical network of technology and expertise that coordinated their doing. The exhibition can thus be read as an extension of the miner: it is constituted as a site for the glorification of a human history of progress that made the development of the hydroelectric infrastructure possible.

      However, the ongoing energy transition and the according «boom» (Zarfl et al. 2015) of hydropower raises questions about the potential ecological consequences of engineering, technology, and infrastructural extension (see also Ansar et al. 2014). The power plant operator in the Grimsel region highlights the «connectivity between humans, technology and nature»4, acknowledges the potential «tensions between electricity production and water protection»5 and calls for a responsible engagement with nature in its ongoing and planned projects. And yet, recent plans for the further extension of the hydroelectric infrastructure have still provoked controversies, with various associations still highlighting the negative ecological consequences of these plans.6

      So, who might best speak for fish and aquatic microorganisms in ongoing and planned construction projects? By placing the dying neon fish under the miner’s pneumatic hammer, we aim at problematizing the ecological costs, which infrastructural extension and energy production have been generating for almost a century. We do so by moving beyond a narrow focus on humans and by bringing into consideration an Alpine ecology as a «socialnature» (Braun & Castree 2001), which the extension of hydroelectric infrastructure has profoundly reassembled and turned into a «commodity frontier» (Moore 2000). Such a perspective reveals the extension of hydroelectric infrastructure as an integral part of capitalist expansion into an Alpine frontier, through which «nature» has been «tamed» and «commodified».

      The figure of the miner plays a key role in this colonializing process, as his stone-bare masculine appearance embodies the very believe of human, patriarchal control over nature, glorifying man/kind’s appropriation of water for energy production and legitimizing the future extension of the hydroelectric infrastructure. As such, it sets a metaphysical zero point for a human history of progress, through which the building and extension of hydroelectric infrastructure has been normalized.

      To disfigure the statue of the miner – by putting the neon fish under his hammer – appears justified and fruitful in light of the endeavor to decolonize Alpine ecologies from human domination. And yet, decolonizing ecologies along these lines must not distract from the laborers’ themselves, who had to invest whole parts of their lives into these construction works. In other words, calling for environmental justice must not come at costs of those who have themselves been instrumentalized within that very same narratives and processes of progress and capitalist production.

      However, the statue of the steeled male miner can hardly account for the workers’ bodies and lives: It rather does, in its humble working-class pose, facing down to focus on its work with the drill, embody the hierarchy of class relations. Despite or maybe because the miner embodies these ambiguities, it appears worthwhile to maintain its presence for having a debate. In our installation, we aim at doing so by keeping the fish unlit during the day and thus hardly visible to passers-by, to allow the statue of the miner to remind of the workers. Only by night will the fish then appear in neon light and turn into a dazzling reminder of the colonization of nature – and also of the multitude of meanings which the monument entangles.

      #écologie #écologie_politique #énergie #électricité #Oberhasli #barrages_hydro-électrique #Alpes #montagne #décolonisation #Grimsel #travailleurs #mémoire #poissons #Spitallamm #technologie #nature #eau #protection_de_l'eau #coût_écologique #justice_environnementale #progrès #mineur #statue

  • Faut-il faire don de la #dette ?

    Marcel Mauss permet d’éclairer les dynamiques des relations internationales contemporaines. Contre les abolitionnistes, Grégoire Mallard soutient que la dette génère des obligations réciproques entre États et peut stimuler leur coopération sur un principe d’égalité.

    #International #anthropologie #décolonisation

  • #Souveraineté_alimentaire. Aux États-Unis, les Amérindiens veulent “décoloniser leur assiette”

    La pandémie de Covid-19 a accru la volonté d’#autonomie_alimentaire des Amérindiens, qui renouent aujourd’hui avec les semis, les cultures et les #pratiques_culinaires traditionnelles pour “rééduquer” leur palais.

    Au printemps 2020, alors que le Covid-19 se propageait aux États-Unis, #Daniel_Cornelius a fait ses #semis. Membre de la nation #Oneida du Wisconsin, il vit dans la campagne vallonnée du sud de Madison, où il a planté des carottes, des tomates ainsi que des plantes traditionnelles amérindiennes : fèves, citrouilles et maïs.

    Il a aidé d’autres Amérindiens à faire de même. En juin, il a pris son tracteur manuel, direction le Nord, jusqu’aux Chippewas du lac du Flambeau, pour les aider à retourner et à préparer la terre selon la tradition.

    Puis, il a amené des graines de courge à la réserve Menominee du #Wisconsin, où les habitants ont aménagé des parterres de culture surélevés comme le faisaient leurs ancêtres.

    Il a collecté du sirop sur des érables et a ramassé du riz sauvage puis, en septembre, il s’est rendu à une foire dans la réserve Oneida, près de Green Bay, où il les a échangés contre des poivrons, des œufs de caille et de la soupe de maïs. “Presque tout le monde voulait de ce sirop d’érable”, raconte-t-il.

    Renouer avec les pratiques traditionnelles

    Cornelius fait partie du mouvement dit de “souveraineté alimentaire”, de plus en plus populaire chez les Amérindiens, qui vise à augmenter la production locale et à renouer avec l’agriculture et les pratiques culinaires traditionnelles.

    C’est un phénomène à grande échelle qui va de la culture d’un potager par des familles dans leur jardin jusqu’au développement d’un réseau d’organisations régionales et nationales dédiées à la coopération entre tribus, au partage de techniques agricoles et à la préservation de variétés ancestrales.

    “Les gens sont demandeurs de ces produits, explique Cornelius, également conseiller technique pour le Conseil agricole intertribal de Billings, dans le Montana, et professeur à l’université du Wisconsin. Et ils ont aussi soif de connaissances.”

    Pour de nombreux Amérindiens, le retour à des produits et cultures traditionnels s’inscrit dans un effort plus large pour se “décoloniser”. Une façon de réparer les ravages économiques et culturels infligés par les descendants d’Européens qui les ont chassés de leurs terres, enfermés dans des réserves et envoyés dans des pensionnats et ont tout fait pour les couper de leurs racines.

    Cela ne passe pas seulement par un regain d’intérêt pour les #plantes_ancestrales mais aussi par un retour à une certaine vie économique et culturelle, et à des coutumes et des traditions liées à la #nourriture et à sa production.

    Des effets bénéfiques sur la santé

    Sur le plan pratique, la souveraineté alimentaire est une solution qui vise plus d’autonomie et qui ouvre également des perspectives économiques dans les communautés les plus pauvres.


    #peuples_autochtones #USA #Etats-Unis #décolonisation #alimentation #agriculture

    ping @cede @odilon

    • Seeds and beyond: Native Americans embrace ‘food sovereignty’

      Last spring, as COVID-19 swept the nation, Daniel Cornelius planted. A member of the Oneida Nation of Wisconsin, he lives in the rolling farm country south of Madison, where he planted carrots and tomatoes, as well as traditional Native American crops – beans, pumpkins, and corn in hues ranging from cream to deep red and bearing names like Tuscarora white, Mohawk yellow, and Bear Island flint.

      He helped others plant, too. In June he took his small walk-behind tractor north to help members of the Lac du Flambeau Band of Lake Superior Chippewa start gardens, heaping the soil in long mounded rows in imitation of traditional planting hills. He brought squash seeds to the reservation of the Menominee Indian Tribe of Wisconsin, where members have been building raised beds after ancient Menominee practice. He tapped box-elder trees for syrup and gathered wild rice, and in September he brought them to a bartering event on the Oneida reservation, near Green Bay, where he traded them for peppers, quail eggs, and corn soup.

      “Almost everyone wanted that box-elder syrup,” he says.

      Mr. Cornelius is part of a growing “food sovereignty” movement among Native Americans, an effort aimed at increasing local food production and reviving Indigenous agricultural and culinary practices. It’s a broad-ranging movement that includes families growing vegetables in backyard gardens and an ever-expanding network of regional and national organizations devoted to fostering intertribal cooperation, sharing agricultural know-how, and promoting the use and preservation of traditional crop varieties.

      “People are hungry – literally hungry to eat these foods,” says Mr. Cornelius, who is also a technical adviser for the Intertribal Agriculture Council, based in Billings, Montana, and an instructor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. “But also, in a more figurative sense, they’re just hungry for knowledge.”

      For many Native Americans, the return to traditional foods is part of a wider effort to “decolonize” their people, a way to repair the economic and cultural damage inflicted by European Americans who drove them from their lands, confined them to reservations, sent them to boarding schools, and tried to sever them from their old ways. It means not just planting old seeds but reviving the economic and cultural life, the ceremonies, the customs and beliefs, around food and food production.

      In a practical sense, food sovereignty offers a path toward greater self-sufficiency and economic opportunity in poor communities. Perhaps more critical are its potential benefits for public health. Native Americans face high rates of diabetes, heart disease, obesity, and other conditions that food sovereignty advocates say result from a dependence on processed foods.

      “We’ve got to get back to a diet and food system that our bodies and our babies can handle,” says Gary Besaw, head of the Department of Agriculture and Food Systems on the Menominee reservation.

      Since it emerged a year ago, COVID-19 has given new urgency to these efforts. The coronavirus hit Native American communities hard: In December, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported that Native Americans and Alaskan Natives were 3 1/2 times more likely than white Americans to become infected with the virus. Yet, while COVID-19 has revealed the vulnerability of Native peoples, it has also inspired more of them to plant, fish, gather, and hunt.

      “People are seeing the weakness within our current food system,” says Rebecca Webster, who with her husband, Stephen, grows corn and other traditional crops on the Oneida reservation. “They want to know where their food is coming from. They want to take control back.”

      Much of the food sovereignty movement focuses on seeds: growing and preserving them, as well as finding and distributing old and not-yet-forgotten varieties. Some of this work requires research, like figuring out where a seed company acquired its varieties long ago. It also involves hunting down a variety that someone has been growing – and then producing enough seed to share. Organizations like Seed Savers Exchange, based in Decorah, Iowa, and long devoted to promoting heirloom seeds, have in recent years been growing Native varieties and sending out seeds to a small number of established growers. In addition, an expanding universe of workshops and YouTube videos is available to teach aspiring growers how to use Native agricultural techniques.
      The “Three Sisters”

      The most popular seeds are the “Three Sisters” of Indigenous agriculture: corn, beans, and squash. They are traditionally grown together in mounds, as the Websters do on the Oneida reservation. The cornstalks serve as a trellis for the bean vines, while the beans, which are legumes, enrich the soil for the corn. The squash sprawls out all around. A modification of this strategy is to grow the corn and beans in mounded rows, with squash on the ends. Many Native growers also plant tobacco and sunflowers.

      When the pandemic struck, the demand for seeds soared. People had more time at home; they also were rattled by local food shortages. On the Meskwaki Settlement in Tama, Iowa, Shelley Buffalo, local foods coordinator for the Meskwaki Food Sovereignty Initiative, grappled with a “huge increase” in requests for seeds. “There were many people who were gardening for the first time,” she says. Appeals to the Traditional Native American Farmers Association “nearly depleted what we had,” says Clayton Brascoupé, a farmer in Tesuque Pueblo, New Mexico, and the group’s program director.

      “There were people contacting us from a lot of new places,” he says. “They said, ‘Can you send seed?’”

      But it’s not all about seeds. Native Americans are also raising bison, spearing fish, picking chokecherries, harvesting wild rice – and much more.

      It’s a movement that touches every tribe in the United States and reflects both the geographical and historical diversity of Native American communities. The Quapaw Nation of Oklahoma raises bison on lands recovered from lead and zinc mining and operates its own meat processing plant. The Muckleshoot of Washington state have hosted workshops on how to fillet a salmon and slice up an elk. Ndée Bikíyaa, or People’s Farm, is trying to revive agriculture among Arizona’s White Mountain Apache. Minnesota’s Red Lake Ojibwe sell mail-order wild rice and chokeberry jam. And in Hugo, Minnesota, just outside the Twin Cities, the organization Dream of Wild Health teaches Native children how to garden; a program for teenagers is called Garden Warriors.

      “This year was a big wake-up call for our tribe,” says Greg Johnson, a member of the Lac du Flambeau Band and an expert in cooking muskellunge, a predatory fish found in northern lakes, which he does by wrapping it in birch bark and baking it in the ground, under a fire. Mr. Johnson says that worries over the food supply sent twice the number of his band than usual out to spear walleyed pike in northern Wisconsin lakes early last spring, a tradition among his people. More people hunted deer later in the year; he taught some of them how to can the venison.

      “In many respects, for me it was really good to see that,” he says. “There were people you never thought would get wild rice. There were people who you never thought would get wild medicines. It was really incredible.”
      Chef participation, too

      Getting the food is only part of the movement. A growing number of chefs are promoting Native cuisine, among them Sean Sherman, an Oglala Lakota and recipient of a James Beard Award. The founder and CEO of The Sioux Chef business in Minneapolis, Mr. Sherman directs a food lab devoted to teaching Native culinary approaches. COVID-19 delayed his plan to open a restaurant, but it inspired a new form of outreach: ready-to-eat meals prepared in the Twin Cities and distributed to Native communities around the region. By December, a crew of 24 workers was sending 6,000 meals a week. It distributed 500 meal kits before the holidays, including the fixings for what Mr. Sherman describes as a Native grain bowl – Potawatomi corn, bison meat, dried blueberries, and puffed wild rice. “That was a fun one,” he says.

      Efforts to revive Native foods are not new. Mr. Brascoupé recalls an intertribal meeting in Gallup, New Mexico, in 1992 at which older farmers voiced concerns about their dwindling numbers. “They also saw a decline in people’s health,” he says. “They tied those two together.”

      In the years since, Mr. Brascoupé has seen a steady increase in the ranks of Native farmers. And what started as a rural movement, he says, has moved to cities, where many Native Americans live – to community gardening and programs teaching Native gardening and culture to children. Mr. Brascoupé attributes much of the resurgence not to tribal initiatives, which have become widespread, but to younger individuals carrying on the work of their elders. Once a young farmer himself, he now has grandchildren who farm.

      “A lot of what we see now started with young people,” Mr. Brascoupé says. “It was more from the bottom up than the top down, from tribal governments.”

      Indeed, the food sovereignty movement builds upon the perseverance and determination of individuals and families who have worked over many years to keep Native food traditions alive. One of these people is Luke Kapayou, who grew up on the Meskwaki Settlement. “When I was growing up, all of us, we had to help with the gardens,” he recalls. “Most of the families had their own gardens.”

      As Mr. Kapayou got older, however, he noticed that fewer people were gardening. And those still doing it were planting fewer old varieties – mainly just corn, the most prized of Native foods. He resolved to keep growing traditional beans and squash, and he began to seek out other varieties both on and off the settlement. He consulted old ethnographies. He even tried – unsuccessfully – to track down seeds at a New York museum.

      “Most of the seeds that me and my family are growing in our garden are what my parents and great-grandparents were growing,” he says. “They’ve been growing for a thousand years. I don’t know, I think I believe these seeds are sacred. They’re very special. It makes me want to keep growing them, and I want to make sure our kids keep growing them.”
      Plenty of challenges

      Despite its successes, the food sovereignty movement still faces plenty of challenges. Growing old crop varieties can be labor-intensive: If done in the traditional way, they are planted and harvested by hand, with the three main crops – corn, beans, and squash – planted together. Also, growers need to take care that nearby field crops, especially corn, don’t cross-pollinate with traditional varieties. And it takes time to preserve the foods – usually by drying – and to cook them up in traditional dishes, such as corn soup, which Mr. Kapayou prepares outside in an old kettle over a wood fire. In addition, efforts to take advantage of Native treaty rights for hunting and fishing continue to meet resistance – as when a group of non-Native people harassed Mr. Johnson while he speared walleyes at a Wisconsin lake last April.

      Nor is it easy to get people to renounce modern processed foods. Nicky Buck knows this well. A member of the Prairie Island Indian Community in Minnesota, she grew up behind a McDonald’s and ate sugar sandwiches as a child – and developed kidney disease as an adult. Today she eats – and promotes – Native foods in her community.

      “You just have to retrain your palate,” she says. “You have to decolonize your palate.”

      Decolonizing the palates of the young poses a special challenge. Parents make sloppy Joes out of bison meat and substitute flint corn for wheat pasta. Ms. Webster, the mother of two teenage daughters, says, “We’re trying to show that corn is cool enough even though there’s a frozen pizza looking at them.”

      The gardening itself may occasion a complaint from younger ones, but it’s good family time. Indeed, the food sovereignty movement is often about bringing people together – growing, harvesting, trading seeds and food, and, of course, eating. A Native foods cooperative on the Oneida reservation has 15 member families and saw more applications to join last year than ever before. “There are a lot of folks showing interest,” says Lea Zeise, who manages the co-op.
      A year-round effort

      Food sovereignty is a year-round effort. Over the winter, gardeners have been cooking up what they harvested and preserved in the fall – the dried beans, the canned venison, the corn boiled and dried and stored in glass jars. In northern Wisconsin, members of the Lac du Flambeau Band were busy with winter spearing, chopping holes through 28 inches of ice to get to the fish.

      “We’re going to get as many muskies as we can,” says Mr. Johnson. “We have a lot of younger people who want to do this.”

      Others are looking forward to spring – planning their gardens, shelling dried corn for seed, and in some cases looking beyond the pandemic to a resumption of the workshops and conferences that have helped spread the food sovereignty movement. “People can’t wait to get together,” says Mr. Cornelius.

      In the meantime, Mr. Cornelius, like other food sovereignty advocates, is heavily booked on Zoom. He’s also full of plans for his own farming. In midwinter he was thinking he should plant his greenhouse soon. He was also trying to figure out how to tap more trees in early spring, including a stand of silver maples on land he just bought last year – 51 acres, mostly woods, plus the derelict buildings of an old dairy farm. He hopes to bring in cattle. His friends say he should raise bison. Maybe someday, he tells them.

      “One step at a time,” he says.


      #semences #graines

  • Le travail de recherche de #Emilio_Distretti sur l’#Italie_coloniale

    Je découvre grâce à @cede le travail de recherche de #Emilio_Distretti, post-doc à l’Université de Bâle, sur le #colonialisme_italien et les #traces dans l’#architecture et l’espace.

    Sa page web :

    Je mets dans ci-dessous des références à des travaux auxquels il a participé, et j’ajoute ce fil de discussion à la métaliste sur le colonialisme italien :

    #colonisation #colonialisme #Italie #histoire #géographie_urbaine #urban_matter

  • Une statue de Christophe Colomb au Mexique sera remplacée par celle d’une femme indigène

    Selon la maire de Mexico, cette décision représente un acte de « justice sociale », ainsi que la reconnaissance de cinq cents ans de « résistance indigène » depuis la conquête espagnole.

    Comment peut-on oser décider de supprimer de la sorte la statue d’un génocidaire aussi glorieux ?!

    L’exemple nous vient d’Amérique :-)

    J’ai envie de taguer dièse woke... mais nan... #justice_sociale

  • Quand s’organisait la société musulmane

    À propos de : Charlotte Courreye, L’Algérie des oulémas : une #Histoire de l’Algérie contemporaine (1931-1991), Éditions de la Sorbonne. L’Association des Oulémas algériens a joué un rôle important pendant la #décolonisation. Son objectif : faire de l’Algérie une société musulmane.

    #islam #religion #Algérie

  • Decolonising Asylum ?

    From the outset, I have to warn you, dear reader, that I am not trying to dispute the subject matter of ‘decolonising asylum’ in this short blog but rather raise a fundamental question, thus: How can we ‘decolonise’ our relation with the ‘Other’? Indeed, this represents an invitation for everyone interested to imagine a way of life beyond the mere conventional framing of ‘coloniality’.

    As Professor Nelson Maldonado-Torres has written (caribbeanstudiesassociation.org/docs/Maldonado-Torres_Outline_Ten_Theses-10.23.16.pdf), coloniality is:
    ’the catastrophic transformation of whatever we can consider as human space, time, structure, culture, subjectivity, objectivity, and methodology, into dehumanizing coordinates or foundations that serve to perpetuate the inferiority of some and the superiority of others.’

    Decoloniality is a mode of critique that seeks to understand and challenge these exclusive practices of othering and the hierarchical understanding of the human. As typical subjects of coloniality, refugees and people seeking asylum are often exposed to regimes of othering, bordering and ordering. Thus, countering the persistence of these exclusive practices would necessitate decolonising asylum.

    In a bid to better formulate my question, let me now turn to what I would call ‘the refugee’s triple loss’, or rather, the loss of ‘home’, loss of ‘humanity’, or arguably the worst, loss of ‘hope’. Home is neither a place nor does it necessarily constitute specified persons; it is a relation of sociality – “the self and its relation to the other in time and space”. Involuntarily displaced, the refugee has lost his/her human-to-human connectivity, along with spatial and temporal relations. What this loss of home means in actuality is that refugees are stripped of their capacity for socio-political existence and situatedness in time and place. Once rendered unintelligible, they succumb with total submission to biopolitical and necropolitical b/ordering. This total surrender is epitomised by accompanying apocalyptic imagery of refugees dying at borders, in deserts, in camps, or lost at sea. Indeed, unfortunately they often die in the process of seeking the asylum that they are so often denied systematically.

    In the global order in which we live, the state has assumed the role of policing one’s access to being classified as a human entity. And in this system of b/ordering, the homeless refugee is thrown into the realm of the sub-human. We all know that refugees lose their lives merely to be human. Refugee life is a life lived amid the daily admission of vulnerability and violability. Once they have lost state protection, humanity for the refugees is a condition of impossibility within the frame of coloniality. They are taken hostage in a state of an “incomplete death” as Frantz Fanon famously said. Or, according to Maldonado-Torres, they “live with death and are not even “people””.

    The last point I wish to raise concerns the issue of ‘hope’. Hope remains the most potent force refugees have at their disposal. It is the only means available to them to sustain their survival and aim at effecting change. In that sense, hope is the struggle of the oppressed – one that is propelled into the future. To put it more succinctly, it is a tacit resistance against the ‘coloniality’ of the future and conditions of impossibility for its decolonisation. Losing hope, therefore, is an involuntary admission of coloniality to be the norm of the present and the future. The state reifies this involuntary admission of hopelessness by negating refugees’ humanity, rendering them rightless corporealities.
    I have now briefly introduced what I mean by the refugee’s triple loss. I have also suggested that refugees are rendered homeless, sub-human and hopeless by the very same world order in which we all reside. Here now comes a more fundamental question, thus: If the ‘world-order’ we live in is rendering our fellow human beings politically untilligible and reduces them to sub-humanity, and if it is keeping them hopeless in an impoverished and precarious state of being, then what kind of b/ordering is this? And, most importantly, what can we do about it? Is the right to asylum the only answer?

    Well, asylum might represent a potential response but for success we must inherently decolonise the asylum system itself. We have to imagine beyond the conventional thresholds and parameters set by the state in conjunction with its mutant twins: charity and humanitarianism.

    It is time to accept that neither the granting of declaratory ‘right to remain’ nor the provision of ‘daily bread’ can shake the omnipresence of coloniality.

    We have to think of repairing the losses of home, humanity and hope. These losses cannot be permanent, however institutionalised they might appear to be. Thus, the impermanence of these seemingly permanent losses must be examined and subjected to a permanent disclosure from which possibilities for radical change can be inferred. Furthermore, decolonial work – the work of destroying the conditions of impossibility while also opening multiple possibilities for co-existence – is the ultimate activation of the decolonisation of the notion of asylum.

    I cannot offer a shred of thought, at least for the purposes of this blog, on how decolonising asylum can be achieved at empirical, conceptual, or, indeed, policy levels. I therefore leave the question open for the more inquisitive among us through the most tremendous tool in our possession: imagination. I wish to orient the question as an invitation for a ‘decolonial turn’, which according to Maldonado-Torres, is “the definitive entry of enslaved and colonized subjectivities into a realm of thought at before unknown institutional levels”.


    #colonialité #décolonial #décolonisation #asile #réfugiés #migrations #colonialité #alterité #home #b/ordering #espoir


    ping @isskein @karine4

  • Perspectives sur la #décolonisation des #savoirs de l’#eau dans un contexte français

    Cet article décrit les fondements et les résultats d’un projet consistant à valoriser un #pluralisme_épistémologique en rapport avec les savoirs de l’eau sur un territoire d’étude en #France. Inspirée par des auteurs hétérodoxes (Escobar, Haraway, Ingold), l’approche que nous appelons « la #science_territoriale » est une tentative à la fois pour mieux intégrer la #diversité_des_savoirs et réfléchir à la meilleure manière de promouvoir une « #justice_cognitive ».


    #décolonial #ressources_naturelles


    Article paru dans :
    Volume 2, numéro 1 – 2021 : T ransitions environnementales et écologie politique des savoirs en Afrique : de la commotion coloniale et néo-libérale à la « co-motion » sociale et écologique

    ping @karine4 @cede

  • Après un débat sur l’esclavage, un surveillant de collège est accusé de radicalisation et licencié | Clara Monnoyeur

    Brahim est surveillant dans un collège à Roubaix. Il a été signalé puis licencié pour radicalisation après un débat avec un professeur sur l’esclavage. Il souhaite porter plainte pour « licenciement abusif ». Source : StreetPress

    • « Ils m’ont fait comprendre que j’étais dans un état de victimisation et que j’étais un peu communautaire »

      Les minorités ne peuvent s’exprimer que pour signifier leur reconnaissance et leur servilité envers les bons blancs.

      Impression bizarre et inconfortable de constater que les gens simplets et malfaisants comme Darmanin se reproduisent à tous les niveaux de l’administration.

    • L’homme de 37 ans est connu dans son quartier pour son engagement en tant que militant syndical et ses différentes actions associatives.

      tu m’étonnes qu’il se fasse virer pas son employeur :-p

      [Brahim] n’est pas d’accord avec l’utilisation du terme « captif » et suggère au prof’ le mot « esclave ». « Je lui ai dit qu’à partir du moment où l’esclave est capturé pour être un esclave, c’est un esclave. Et je lui ai cité le décret Colbert de 1685 et l’article 44 du Code Noir, qui stipule bien que quand un Africain naît, il naît esclave. » Le professeur, lui, affirme son désaccord. L’échange, qui ne dure pas plus de quelques minutes, se serait déroulé dans le calme selon Brahim. Mais dans l’après-midi, le professeur d’histoire interpelle Brahim dans les couloirs d’un ton colérique et lui aurait crié :

      « Tu te prends pour qui ? T’es pas historien, t’es rien. Moi je suis historien, tu connais rien au sujet. Tu remets en cause l’Éducation nationale. Et en plus tu parles devant un élève. »

      c’est le prof qui le plante ! ce prof devrait se prendre un blâme, une fessée en public devant les élèves, et présenter des excuses. En plus de la plainte pour licenciement abusif, ptet Brahim peut aussi attaquer le prof pour insulte en public, diffamation, voire outrage à agent.

      #décolonisation (c’est pas gagné) #haine_de_classe

    • Depuis que ma fille a EMC (Éducation Morale & Civique), elle a eu en gros un sujet : la laïcité.

      Version 2004.

      Elle a réussi à chopper un DM (Devoir à la Maison) en EMC cette année : vous ne devinerez jamais le sujet…

      En gros, tous les ans depuis qu’elle est au bahut, on lui explique que dans notre pays, les musulmans doivent raser les murs…

    • Je le raconte à nouveau. L’autre fois, c’est Xavier Bertrand (LR) qui déblatère « il faut inscrire la laïcité dans la Constitution ». C’était la semaine où j’aidais mon gamin sur un devoir d’EMC, sur la Constitution, où tu lis noir sur blanc le premier article, et la mention de la laïcité. Ce gars, XB, a la prétention de devenir le prochain Président de la République, et il peut déblatérer des âneries de ce genre, sans être contredit par les journalistes et sans perdre instantanément toute crédibilité.

      Ces gens qui prétendent nous gouverner sont des crétins incultes et malfaisants.

    • On a aussi ici un exemple flagrant de privilège blanc.

      Si Marc, né de la bonne couleur, placé dans la même situation que Brahim, avait eu exactement la même conversation sur l’esclavage et le code noir, la situation serait rigoureusement différente, puisqu’il ne serait venu à rigoureusement personne l’idée de lui reprocher de se « victimiser » ou de se « radicaliser ». Tout au plus d’avoir contredit un prof, et cela devant un élève (ce qui dans tous les cas constitue un crime grave).

  • La fabrique européenne de la race (17e-20e siècles)

    Dans quelle galère sommes-nous allé•es pointer notre nez en nous lançant dans ces réflexions sur la race ? Complaisance à l’air du temps saturé de références au racisme, à la #racialisation des lectures du social, diront certain•es. Nécessaire effort épistémologique pour contribuer à donner du champ pour penser et déconstruire les représentations qui sous-tendent les violences racistes, pensons-nous.

    Moment saturé, on ne peut guère penser mieux… ou pire. Évidemment, nous n’avions pas anticipé l’ampleur des mobilisations contre les #violences_racistes de cet été aux États-Unis, mais nous connaissons leur enracinement dans la longue durée, l’acuité récente des mobilisations, que ce soit « #black_lives_matter » aux États-Unis ou les #mobilisations contre les #violences_policières qui accablent les plus vulnérables en France. L’enracinement aussi des #représentations_racialisées, structurant les fonctionnements sociaux à l’échelle du globe aujourd’hui, d’une façon qui apparaît de plus en plus insupportable en regard des proclamations solennelles d’#égalité_universelle du genre humain. Nous connaissons aussi l’extrême #violence qui cherche à discréditer les #protestations et la #révolte de celles et ceux qui s’expriment comme #minorité victime en tant que telle de #discriminations de races, accusé•es ici de « #terrorisme », là de « #communautarisme », de « #séparatisme », de vouloir dans tous les cas de figure mettre à mal « la » république1. Nous connaissons, associé à cet #antiracisme, l’accusation de #complot dit « #décolonial » ou « postcolonial », qui tente de faire des spécialistes des #colonisations, des #décolonisations et des #rapports_sociaux_racisés des vecteurs de menaces pour l’#unité_nationale, armant le mécontentement des militant•es2. Les propos haineux de celles et ceux qui dénoncent la #haine ne sont plus à lister : chaque jour apporte son lot de jugements aussi méprisants que menaçants. Nous ne donnerons pas de noms. Ils ont suffisamment de porte-voix. Jusqu’à la présidence de la République.

    3L’histoire vise à prendre du champ. Elle n’est pas hors sol, ni hors temps, nous savons cela aussi et tout dossier que nous construisons nous rappelle que nous faisons l’histoire d’une histoire.

    Chaque dossier d’une revue a aussi son histoire, plus ou moins longue, plus ou moins collective. Dans ce Mot de la rédaction, en septembre 2020, introduction d’un numéro polarisé sur « l’invention de la race », nous nous autorisons un peu d’auto-histoire. Les Cahiers cheminent depuis des années avec le souci de croiser l’analyse des différentes formes de domination et des outils théoriques comme politiques qui permettent leur mise en œuvre. Avant que le terme d’« #intersectionnalité » ne fasse vraiment sa place dans les études historiennes en France, l’#histoire_critique a signifié pour le collectif de rédaction des Cahiers la nécessité d’aborder les questions de l’#exploitation, de la #domination dans toutes leurs dimensions socio-économiques, symboliques, dont celles enracinées dans les appartenances de sexe, de genre, dans les #appartenances_de_race. Une recherche dans les numéros mis en ligne montre que le mot « race » apparaît dans plus d’une centaine de publications des Cahiers depuis 2000, exprimant le travail de #visibilisation de cet invisible de la #pensée_universaliste. Les dossiers ont traité d’esclavage, d’histoire coloniale, d’histoire de l’Afrique, d’histoire des États-Unis, de l’importance aussi des corps comme marqueurs d’identité : de multiples façons, nous avons fait lire une histoire dans laquelle le racisme, plus ou moins construit politiquement, légitimé idéologiquement, est un des moteurs des fonctionnements sociaux3. Pourtant, le terme d’ « intersectionnalité » apparaît peu et tard dans les Cahiers. Pour un concept proposé par Kimberlé Crenshaw dans les années 1990, nous mesurons aujourd’hui les distances réelles entre des cultures historiennes, et plus globalement sociopolitiques, entre monde anglophone et francophone, pour dire vite4. Effet d’écarts réels des fonctionnements sociaux, effets de la rareté des échanges, des voyages, des traductions comme le rappelait Catherine Coquery-Vidrovitch dans un entretien récent à propos des travaux des africanistes5, effet aussi des constructions idéologiques marquées profondément par un contexte de guerre froide, qui mettent à distance la société des États-Unis comme un autre irréductible. Nous mesurons le décalage entre nos usages des concepts et leur élaboration, souvent dans les luttes de 1968 et des années qui ont suivi. Aux États-Unis, mais aussi en France6. Ce n’est pas le lieu d’évoquer la formidable énergie de la pensée des années 1970, mais la créativité conceptuelle de ces années, notamment à travers l’anthropologie et la sociologie, est progressivement réinvestie dans les travaux historiens au fur et à mesure que les origines socioculturelles des historiens et historiennes se diversifient. L’internationalisation de nos références aux Cahiers s’est développée aussi, pas seulement du côté de l’Afrique, mais du chaudron étatsunien aussi. En 2005, nous avons pris l’initiative d’un dossier sur « L’Histoire de #France vue des États-Unis », dans lequel nous avons traduit et publié un auteur, trop rare en français, Tyler Stovall, alors professeur à l’université de Berkeley : bon connaisseur de l’histoire de France, il développait une analyse de l’historiographie française et de son difficile rapport à la race7. Ce regard extérieur, venant des États-Unis et critique de la tradition universaliste française, avait fait discuter. Le présent dossier s’inscrit donc dans un cheminement, qui est aussi celui de la société française, et dans une cohérence. Ce n’était pas un hasard si en 2017, nous avions répondu à l’interpellation des organisateurs des Rendez-vous de l’histoire de Blois, « Eurêka, inventer, découvrir, innover » en proposant une table ronde intitulée « Inventer la race ». Coordonnée par les deux responsables du présent dossier, David Hamelin et Sébastien Jahan, déjà auteurs de dossiers sur la question coloniale, cette table ronde avait fait salle comble, ce qui nous avait d’emblée convaincus de l’utilité de répondre une attente en préparant un dossier spécifique8. Le présent dossier est le fruit d’un travail qui, au cours de trois années, s’est avéré plus complexe que nous ne l’avions envisagé. Le propos a été précisé, se polarisant sur ce que nous avions voulu montrer dès la table-ronde de 2017 : le racisme tel que nous l’entendons aujourd’hui, basé sur des caractéristiques physiologiques, notamment la couleur de l’épiderme, n’a pas toujours existé. Il s’agit bien d’une « #invention », associée à l’expansion des Européens à travers le monde à l’époque moderne, par laquelle ils justifient leur #domination, mais associée aussi à une conception en termes de #développement, de #progrès de l’histoire humaine. Les historien•nes rassemblée•es ici montrent bien comment le racisme est enkysté dans la #modernité, notamment dans le développement des sciences du 19e siècle, et sa passion pour les #classifications. Histoire relativement courte donc, que celle de ce processus de #racialisation qui advient avec la grande idée neuve de l’égalité naturelle des humains. Pensées entées l’une dans l’autre et en même temps immédiatement en conflit, comme en témoignent des écrits dès le 17e siècle et, parmi d’autres actes, les créations des « #sociétés_des_amis_des_noirs » au 18e siècle. Conflit en cours encore aujourd’hui, avec une acuité renouvelée qui doit moins surprendre que la persistance des réalités de l’#inégalité.

    5Ce numéro 146 tisse de bien d’autres manières ce socle de notre présent. En proposant une synthèse documentée et ambitieuse des travaux en cours sur les renouvellements du projet social portés pour son temps et pour le nôtre par la révolution de 1848, conçue par Jérôme Lamy. En publiant une défense de l’#écriture_inclusive par Éliane Viennot et la présentation de son inscription dans le long combat des femmes par Héloïse Morel9. En suivant les analyses de la nouveauté des aspirations politiques qui s’expriment dans les « #têtes_de_cortège » étudiées par Hugo Melchior. En rappelant à travers expositions, films, romans de l’actualité, les violences de l’exploitation capitaliste du travail, les répressions féroces des forces socialistes, socialisantes, taxées de communistes en contexte de guerre froide, dans « les Cahiers recommandent ». En retrouvant Jack London et ses si suggestives évocations des appartenances de classes à travers le film « Martin Eden » de Pietro Marcello, et bien d’autres évocations, à travers livres, films, expositions, de ce social agi, modelé, remodelé par les luttes, les contradictions, plus ou moins explicites ou sourdes, plus ou moins violentes, qui font pour nous l’histoire vivante. Nouvelle étape de l’exploration du neuf inépuisable des configurations sociales (de) chaque numéro. Le prochain sera consacré à la fois à la puissance de l’Église catholique et aux normes sexuelles. Le suivant à un retour sur l’histoire du Parti communiste dans les moments où il fut neuf, il y a cent ans. À la suite, dans les méandres de ce social toujours en tension, inépuisable source de distance et de volonté de savoir. Pour tenter ensemble de maîtriser les fantômes du passé.


    #histoire #race #Europe #revue #racisme

    ping @cede @karine4

  • Villes et pays continuent d’être rebaptisés en Afrique afin d’effacer le lien colonial

    En #Afrique_du_Sud, #Port_Elizabeth s’appellera désormais #Gqeberha. Les changements de nom de lieux sont étroitement liés à la #décolonisation ou aux fluctuations de régime politique.

    L’Afrique n’est pas une exception. De tout temps, les changements de toponymie ont été des marqueurs de l’histoire, souvent pour la gloire des vainqueurs, avec la volonté de tourner la page d’un passé fréquemment honni. L’exemple de l’Afrique du Sud, qui vient d’entériner le remplacement du nom de la ville de Port Elizabeth, illustre la volonté d’effacer le passé colonial du pays. Celle-ci portait en effet le nom de l’épouse du gouverneur du Cap, Sir Rufane Donkin, « fondateur » de la ville en 1820, à l’arrivée de quelques 4 000 migrants britanniques.

    Les initiateurs de ce changement de toponymie le revendiquent. Rebaptiser la ville est une manière d’inscrire le peuple noir dans l’histoire du pays et de rendre leur dignité aux communautés noires. Port Elizabeth s’appelle désormais Gqeberha qui est le nom, en langue Xhosa, de la rivière qui traverse la ville, la #Baakens_River. Mais c’est aussi et surtout le nom d’un de ses plus vieux Townships.

    #Uitenhage devient #Kariega

    La ville voisine d’Uitenhage est elle aussi rebaptisée Kariega. Les tenants de ce changement ne voulaient plus de référence au fondateur de la ville, #Jacob_Glen_Cuyler. « Nous ne pouvons pas honorer cet homme qui a soumis notre peuple aux violations des droits de la personne les plus atroces », explique Christian Martin, l’un des porteurs du projet.


    Jusqu’à présent, rebaptiser les villes en Afrique du Sud s’était fait de façon indirecte, notamment en donnant un nom à des métropoles urbaines qui en étaient jusqu’ici dépourvues. Ainsi, Port Elizabeth est-elle la ville centre de la Métropole de #Nelson_Mandela_Bay, qui rassemble plus d’un million d’habitants.

    Si Pretoria, la capitale de l’Afrique du Sud, a conservé son nom, la conurbation de près de trois millions d’habitants et treize municipalités créée en 2000 s’appelle #Tshwane. Quant à #Durban, elle appartient à la métropole d’#eThekwini.

    Un changement tardif

    Ces changements de nom se font tardivement en Afrique du Sud, contrairement au reste du continent, parce que quoiqu’indépendante depuis 1910, elle est restée contrôlée par les Blancs descendants des colonisateurs. Il faudra attendre la fin de l’apartheid en 1991 et l’élection de Nelson Mandela à la tête du pays en 1994 pour que la population indigène se réapproprie son territoire.

    Pour les mêmes raisons, la #Rhodésie_du_Sud ne deviendra le #Zimbabwe qu’en 1980, quinze ans après l’indépendance, lorsque le pouvoir blanc des anciens colons cédera la place à #Robert_Mugabe.
    Quant au #Swaziland, il ne deviendra #eSwatini qu’en 2018, lorsque son fantasque monarque, #Mswati_III, décidera d’effacer la relation coloniale renommant « le #pays_des_Swatis » dans sa propre langue.

    Quand la politique rebat les cartes

    Une période postcoloniale très agitée explique aussi les changements de nom à répétition de certains Etats.

    Ainsi, à l’indépendance en 1960, #Léopoldville capitale du Congo est devenue #Kinshasa, faisant disparaître ainsi le nom du roi belge à la politique coloniale particulièrement décriée. En 1965, le maréchal #Mobutu lance la politique de « #zaïrisation » du pays. En clair, il s’agit d’effacer toutes traces de la colonisation et de revenir à une authenticité africaine des #patronymes et toponymes.

    Un #Zaïre éphémère

    Le mouvement est surtout une vaste opération de nationalisation des richesses, détenues alors par des individus ou des compagnies étrangères. Le pays est alors renommé République du Zaïre, ce qui a au moins le mérite de le distinguer de la #République_du_Congo (#Brazzaville), même si le nom est portugais !

    Mais l’appellation Zaïre était elle-même trop attachée à la personnalité de Mobutu. Et quand le dictateur tombe en 1997, le nouveau maître Laurent-Désiré Kabila s’empresse de rebaptiser le pays en République démocratique du Congo. Là encore, il s’agit de signifier que les temps ont changé.

    Effacer de mauvais souvenirs

    Parfois le sort s’acharne, témoin la ville de #Chlef en #Algérie. Par deux fois, en 1954 puis en 1980, elle connaît un séisme destructeur. En 1954, elle s’appelle encore #Orléansville. Ce nom lui a été donné par le colonisateur français en 1845 à la gloire de son #roi_Louis-Philippe, chef de la maison d’Orléans.

    En 1980, l’indépendance de l’Algérie est passée par là, la ville a repris son nom historique d’#El_Asnam. Le 10 octobre 1980, elle est une nouvelle fois rayée de la carte ou presque par un terrible #tremblement_de_terre (70% de destruction). Suite à la catastrophe, la ville est reconstruite et rebaptisée une nouvelle fois. Elle devient Chlef, gommant ainsi les références à un passé dramatique...


    #colonisation #colonialisme #noms_de_villes #toponymie #toponymie_politique #Afrique

  • Decolonizing solidarity

    Thinking through solidarity organizing, with an eye to how we can better live the change, as well as how we often slip in to colonial patterns when working together across distance and difference.


    Et une #bibliographie sur zotero:

    #solidarité #Sara_Koopman #blog #colonisation #colonialisme #décolonialité #décolonisation #mouvements_sociaux #ressources_pédagogiques

    ping @cede @karine4

  • Enquête sur l’"islamo-gauchisme" dans la recherche : l’impossible décolonisation de l’Université

    Stéphane Dufoix, professeur de sociologie à l’Institut Universitaire de France, analyse les accusations d’"l’islamo-gauchisme" dont fait l’objet l’université française.

    Depuis quand « décoloniser » est-il devenu un mot abject ? Depuis quand serait-il incompatible avec les valeurs de la science ? Si l’universalisme scientifique ne prend en compte les propriétés culturelles et sociales ni des individus ni des idées, comment peut-il dans le même temps fustiger les campus nord-américains ou bien dénoncer les positions « idéologiques » de chercheurs en sciences sociales ?

    Il y a ici une contradiction dans les faits parce que les défenseurs de l’universalisme ne font pas ce qu’ils affirment pourtant défendre et qu’ils n’admettent pas qu’il puisse exister plusieurs définitions de l’universalisme, alors que l’immense majorité des auteurs non-occidentaux (Anouar Abdel-Malek, Alberto Guerreiro Ramos, Paulin Hountondji etc.) ayant critiqué l’"injustice épistémique" de la domination occidentale ne l’ont pas fait au nom d’un simple repli sur eux-mêmes mais au nom d’un autre universalisme à inventer.

    D’ailleurs, la question compliquée de la décolonisation des sciences sociales implique de se saisir de deux dimensions qu’interdit une version radicale de l’universalisme : la capacité à « situer » socialement ce que disent et ce que font les acteurs sociaux, ainsi que la nécessité de faire preuve d’une bonne connaissance de l’histoire, comme le rappelait il y a peu Jean‑François Bayart à propos de la dénonciation de l’islamo-gauchisme.

    Pravda, peut-être, mais alors après la glasnost

    #universalisme #décolonisation_des_sciences

  • Making sense of silenced #archives: #Hume, Scotland and the ‘debate’ about the humanity of Black people

    Last September, the University of Edinburgh found itself at the centre of international scrutiny after temporarily renaming the #David_Hume Tower (now referred to by its street designation 40 George Square). The decision to rename the building, and hold a review on the way forward, prompted much commentary – a great deal of which encouraged a reckoning on what David Hume means to the University, its staff and students. These ideas include the full extent of Hume’s views on humanity, to establish whether he maintained any possible links (ideological or participatory) in the slave trade, and the role of Scotland in the African slave trade.

    Hume’s belief that Black people were a sub-human species of lower intellectual and biological rank to Europeans have rightfully taken stage in reflecting whether his values deserve commemoration on a campus. “I am apt to suspect the negroes and in general all other species of men (for there are four or five different kinds) to be naturally inferior to the whites. […] No ingenious manufactures amongst them, no arts, no sciences.” The full link to the footnote can be found here.

    Deliberations are split on whether statues and buildings are being unfairly ‘targeted’ or whether the totality of ideas held by individuals whose names are commemorated by these structures stand in opposition to a modern university’s values. Depending on who you ask, the debate over the tower fluctuates between moral and procedural. On the latter, it must be noted the University has in the past renamed buildings at the behest of calls for review across specific points in history. The Hastings ‘Kamuzu’ Banda building on Hill Place was quietly renamed in 1995, with no clarity on whether there was a formal review process at the time. On the moral end, it is about either the legacy or demythologization of David Hume.

    Some opposing the name change argue against applying present moral standards to judge what was not recognised in the past. Furthermore, they point to the archives to argue that prior to the 1760s there is scant evidence that Scots were not anything more than complicit to the slave trade given the vast wealth it brought.

    I argue against this and insist that the African experience and the engaged intellectual abolition movement deserves prominence in this contemporary debate about Hume.

    For to defend ‘passive complicity’ is to undermine both the Africans who rose in opposition against their oppression for hundreds of years and the explicit goals of white supremacy. For access to mass acquisition of resources on inhabited land requires violent dispossession of profitable lands and forced relocation of populations living on them. The ‘moral justification’ of denying the humanity of the enslaved African people has historically been defended through the strategic and deliberate creation of ‘myths’ – specifically Afrophobia – to validate these atrocities and to defend settler colonialism and exploitation. Any intellectual inquiry of the renaming of the tower must take the genuine concern into account: What was David Hume’s role in the strategic myth-making about African people in the Scottish imagination?

    If we are starting with the archives as evidence of Scottish complicity in the slave trade, why ignore African voices on this matter? Does the Scottish archive adequately represent the African experience within the slave trade? How do we interpret their silence in the archives?

    Decolonisation, the process Franz Fanon described as when “the ‘thing’ colonised becomes a human through the very process of liberation”, offers a radical praxis through which we can interrogate the role of the archive in affirming or disregarding the human experience. If we establish that the 18th century Scottish archive was not invested in preserving ‘both sides’ of the debate’, then the next route is to establish knowledge outside of a colonial framework where the ideology, resistance and liberation of Africans is centred. That knowledge is under the custodianship of African communities, who have relied on intricate and deeply entrenched oral traditions and practices which are still used to communicate culture, history, science and methods.

    To reinforce a point raised by Professor Tommy Curry, the fact that Africans were aware of their humanity to attempt mutiny in slave ships (Meermin & Amistad) and to overthrow colonial governance (the Haitian revolution) amidst the day-to-day attempts to evade slave traders is enough to refute the insistence that the debates must centre around what Scots understood about the slave trade in the 18th century.

    To make sense of these gaps in my own research, I have broadly excavated the archival records in Scotland if only to establish that a thorough documentation of the African-led resistance to Scottish participation in the slave trade and colonialism cannot be located in the archives.

    Dr David Livingstone (1813–1873), whose writing documenting the slave trade across the African Great Lakes galvanized the Scottish public to take control of the region to be named the Nyasaland Protectorate, would prove to be a redemptive figure in Scotland’s reconsideration of its role in the slave trade. However, in 1891, 153 years after Hume wrote his footnote, Sir Harry Hamilton Johnston (1858–1927), the first British colonial administrator of Nyasaland, would re-inforce similar myths about the ‘British Central African’: “to these [negroes] almost without arts and sciences and the refined pleasures of the senses, the only acute enjoyment offered them by nature is sexual intercourse”. Even at that time, the documented resistance is represented by Scottish missionaries who aimed to maintain Nyasaland under their sphere of control.

    Filling in the gaps that the archives cannot answer involves more complex and radical modalities of investigation.

    I rely on locally-recognised historians or documenters within communities, who preserve their histories, including the slave trade, through methodically structured oral traditions. The legacy of both the Arab and Portuguese slave trade and British colonialism in Nyasaland remains a raw memory, even though there are no precise indigenous terms to describe these phenomena.

    I have visited and listened to oral histories about the importance of ‘ancestor caves’ where families would conduct ceremonies and celebrations out of view to evade the slave catchers. These are the stories still being told about how children were hidden and raised indoors often only taken outside at night, keeping silent to escape the eyes and ears of the catchers. Embedded in these historical narratives are didactic tales, organised for ease of remembrance for the survival of future generations.
    Despite what was believed by Hume and his contemporaries, the arts and sciences have always been intrinsic in African cultural traditions. Decolonising is a framework contingent upon recognising knowledge productions within systems that often will never make their way into archival records. It centres the recognition and legitimization of the ways in which African people have collected and shared their histories.

    The knowledge we learn from these systems allows us to reckon with both the silence of archives and the fallacies of myth-making about African people.

    At very least, these debates should lead to investigations to understand the full extent of Hume’s participation in the dehumanization of enslaved Africans, and the role he played to support the justification for their enslavement.

    #Édimbourg #toponymie #toponymie_poltique #Ecosse #UK #Edinburgh #David_Hume_Tower #esclavage #histoire #mémoire #Kamuzu_Banda #colonialisme #imaginaire #décolonisation #Nyasaland #Nyasaland_Protectorate #histoire_orale #archives #mythes #mythologie #déshumanisation

    ping @cede @karine4 @isskein

    • Hastings Banda

      The #University_of_Edinburgh renamed the Hastings ‘Kamuzu’ Banda building on #Hill_Place in the 1990s. Whilst fellow independence leader and Edinburgh alumni #Julius_Nyerere is still regarded as a saint across the world, #Banda died with an appalling record of human rights abuses and extortion – personally owning as much as 45% of #Malawi’s GDP. There are no plaques in Edinburgh commemorating #Kamuzu, and rightly so.

      Banda’s time in Edinburgh does, however, give us a lens through which to think about the University and colonial knowledge production in the 1940s and ‘50s; how numerous ‘fathers of the nation’ who led African independence movements were heavily involved in the linguistic, historical and anthropological codification of their own people during the late colonial period; why a cultural nationalist (who would later lead an anti-colonial independence movement) would write ‘tracts of empire’ whose intended audience were missionaries and colonial officials; and how such tracts reconciled imagined modernities and traditions.

      Fellow-Edinburgh student Julius Nyerere showed considerable interest in the ‘new science’ of anthropology during his time in Scotland, and #Jomo_Kenyatta – the first president of independent Kenya – penned a cutting-edge ethnography of the #Kikuyu whilst studying under #Malinowski at the LSE, published as Facing Mount Kenya in 1938. Banda himself sat down and co-edited Our African Way of Life, writing an introduction outlining Chewa and broader ‘Maravi’ traditions, with the Edinburgh-based missionary anthropologist T. Cullen Young in 1944.

      Before arriving in Edinburgh in 1938, Banda had already furthered his education in the US through his expertise on Chewa language and culture: Banda was offered a place at the University of Chicago in the 1930s on the strength of his knowledge of chiChewa, with Mark Hana Watkins’s 1937 A Grammar of Chichewa: A Bantu Language of British Central Africa acknowledging that “All the information was obtained from Kamuzu Banda, a native Chewa, while he was in attendance at the University of Chicago from 1930 to 1932”, and Banda also recorded ‘together with others’ four Chewa songs for Nancy Cunard’s Negro Anthology. In Britain in 1939 he was appointed as adviser to the Malawian chief, Mwase Kasungu, who spent six months at the London University of Oriental and African Languages to help in an analysis of chiNyanja; an experience that “must have reinforced” Banda’s “growing obsession with his Chewa identity” (Shepperson, 1998).

      Banda in Edinburgh

      In Edinburgh, Banda shifted from being a source of knowledge to a knowledge producer – a shift that demands we think harder about why African students were encouraged to Edinburgh in the first place and what they did here. Having already gained a medical degree from Chicago, Banda was primarily at Edinburgh to convert this into a British medical degree. This undoubtedly was Banda’s main focus, and the “techniques of men like Sir John Fraser electrified him, and he grew fascinated with his subject in a way which only a truly dedicated man can” (Short, 1974, p.38).

      Yet Banda also engaged with linguistic and ethnographic codification, notably with the missionary anthropologist, T Cullen Young. And whilst black Edinburgh doctors were seen as key to maintaining the health of colonial officials across British Africa in the 19th century, black anthropologists became key to a “more and fuller understanding of African thought and longings” (and controlling an increasingly agitative and articulate British Africa) in the 20th century (Banda & Young, 1946, p.27-28). Indeed, having acquired ‘expertise’ and status, it is also these select few black anthropologists – Banda, Kenyatta and Nyerere – who led the march for independence across East and Central Africa in the 1950s and 60s.

      Banda was born in c.1896-1989 in Kasungu, central Malawi. He attended a Scottish missionary school from the age 8, but having been expelled from an examination in 1915, by the same T Cullen Young he would later co-author with, Banda left Malawi and walked thousands of miles to South Africa. Banda came to live in Johannesburg at a time when his ‘Nyasa’ cousin, Clements Musa Kadalie was the ‘most talked about native in South Africa’ and the ‘uncrowned king of the black masses’, leading Southern Africa’s first black mass movement and major trade union, the Industrial and Commercial Workers’ Union (ICU).

      Banda was friends with Kadalie, and may have been involved with the Nyasaland Native National Congress which was formed around 1918-1919 with around 100 members in Johannesburg, though no record of this remains. Together, Banda and Kadalie were the two leading Malawian intellectuals of the first half of the twentieth century and, in exploring the type of ‘colonial knowledge’ produced by Africans in Edinburgh, it is productive to compare their contrasting accounts of ‘African history’.

      In 1927 Kadalie wrote an article for the British socialist journal Labour Monthly entitled ‘The Old and the New Africa’. Charting a pre-capitalist Africa, Kadalie set out that the

      “white men came to Africa of their own free will, and told my forefathers that they had brought with them civilisation and Christianity. They heralded good news for Africa. Africa must be born again, and her people must discard their savagery and become civilised people and Christians. Cities were built in which white and black men might live together as brothers. An earthly paradise awaited creation…They cut down great forests; cities were built, and while the Christian churches the gospel of universal brotherhood, the industrialisation of Africa began. Gold mining was started, and by the close of the nineteenth century European capitalism had made its footing firm in Africa….The churches still preached universal brotherhood, but capitalism has very little to do with the ethics of the Nazerene, and very soon came a new system of government in Africa with ‘Law and Order’ as its slogan.” (Kadalie, 1927).

      Banda’s own anthropological history, written 17 years later with Cullen Young, is a remarkably different tale. Banda and Young valorise the three authors within the edited volume as fossils of an ideal, isolated age, “the last Nyasalanders to have personal touch with their past; the last for whom the word ‘grandmother’ will mean some actually remembered person who could speak of a time when the land of the Lake knew no white man” (Banda & Young, 1946, p7). Already in 1938, Banda was beginning to develop an idea for a Central African nation.

      Writing from the Edinburgh Students Union to Ernest Matako, he reflected: “the British, the French and the Germans were once tribes just as we are now in Africa. Many tribes united or combined to make one, strong British, French or German nation. In other words, we have to begin to think in terms of Nyasaland, and even Central Africa as a whole, rather than of Kasungu. We have to look upon all the tribes in Central Africa, whether in Nyasaland or in Rhodesia, as our brothers. Until we learn to do this, we shall never be anything else but weak, tiny tribes, that can easily be subdued.” (Banda, 1938).
      Banda after Edinburgh

      But by 1944, with his hopes of returning to Nyasaland as a medical officer thwarted and the amalgamation of Nyasaland and the Rhodesias into a single administrative unit increasingly on the cards, Banda appears to have been grounding this regional identity in a linguistic-cultural history of the Chewa, writing in Our African Way of Life: “It is practically certain that aMaravi ought to be the shared name of all these peoples; this carrying with it recognition of the Chewa motherland group as representing the parent stock of the Nyanja speaking peoples.” (Banda & Young, 1946, p10). Noting the centrality of “Banda’s part in the renaming of Nyasaland as Malawi”, Shepperson asked in 1998, “Was this pan-Chewa sentiment all Banda’s or had he derived it largely from the influence of Cullen Young? My old friend and collaborator, the great Central African linguist Thomas Price, thought the latter. But looking to Banda’s Chewa consciousness as it developed in Chicago, I am by no means sure of this.” Arguably it is Shepperson’s view that is vindicated by two 1938 letters unearthed by Morrow and McCracken in the University of Cape Town archives in 2012.

      In 1938, Banda concluded another letter, this time to Chief Mwase Kasungu: “I want you tell me all that happens there [Malawi]. Can you send me a picture of yourself and your council? Also I want to know the men who are the judges in your court now, and how the system works.” (Banda, 1938). Having acquired and reworked colonial knowledge from Edinburgh, Our African Way of Life captures an attempt to convert British colonialism to Banda’s own end, writing against ‘disruptive’ changes that he was monitoring from Scotland: the anglicisation of Chewa, the abandoning of initiation, and the shift from matriarchal relations. Charting and padding out ideas about a pan-Chewa cultural unit – critical of British colonialism, but only for corrupting Chewa culture – Banda was concerned with how to properly run the Nyasaland state, an example that productively smudges the ‘rupture’ of independence and explains, in part, neo-colonial continuity in independent Malawi.

      For whilst the authors of the edited works wrote their original essays in chiNyanja, with the hope that it would be reproduced for Nyasaland schools, the audience that Cullen Young and Banda addressed was that of the English missionary or colonial official, poised to start their ‘African adventure’, noting:

      “A number of important points arise for English readers, particularly for any who may be preparing to work in African areas where the ancient mother-right still operates.” (Banda & Cullen, 1946, p.11).

      After a cursory summary readers are directed by a footnote “for a fuller treatment of mother-right, extended kinship and the enjoined marriage in a Nyasaland setting, see Chaps. 5-8 in Contemporary Ancestors, Lutterworth Press, 1942.” (Banda & Young, 1946, p.11). In contrast to the authors who penned their essays so “that our children should learn what is good among our ancient ways: those things which were understood long ago and belong to their own people” the introduction to Our African Way of Life is arguably published in English, under ‘war economy standards’ in 1946 (post-Colonial Development Act), for the expanding number of British ‘experts’ heading out into the empire; and an attempt to influence their ‘civilising mission’. (Banda & Young, 1946, p.7).

      By the 1950s, Banda was fully-assured of his status as a cultural-nationalist expert – writing to a Nyasaland Provincial Commissioner, “I am in a position to know and remember more of my own customs and institutions than the younger men that you meet now at home, who were born in the later twenties and even the thirties…I was already old enough to know most of these customs before I went to school…the University of Chicago, which cured me of my tendency to be ashamed of my past. The result is that, in many cases, really, I know more of our customs than most of our people, now at home. When it comes to language I think this is even more true. for the average youngster [In Malawi] now simply uses what the European uses, without realising that the European is using the word incorrectly. Instead of correcting the european, he uses the word wrongly, himself, in order to affect civilisation, modernity or even urbanity.” (Shepperdson, 1998).

      This however also obscures the considerable investigatory correspondence that he engaged in whilst in Scotland. Banda was highly critical of indirect rule in Our African Way of Life, but from emerging archival evidence, he was ill-informed of the changing colonial situation in 1938.

      Kadalie and Banda’s contrasting histories were written at different times, in different historical contexts by two people from different parts of Nyasaland. Whilst Banda grew up in an area on the periphery of Scottish missionaries’ sphere of influence, Kadalie came from an area of Malawi, Tongaland, heavily affected by Scottish missionaries and his parents were heavily involved with missionary work. The disparity between the histories that they invoke, however, is still remarkable – Banda invokes a precolonial rural Malawi devoid of white influence, Kadalie on the other hand writes of a pre-capitalist rural Malawi where Christians, white and black, laboured to create a kingdom of heaven on earth – and this, perhaps, reflects the ends they are writing for and against.

      Kadalie in the 1920s looked to integrate the emerging African working class within the international labour movement, noting “capitalism recognises no frontiers, no nationality, and no race”, with the long-term view to creating a socialist commonwealth across the whole of Southern Africa. Britain-based Banda, writing with Cullen Young in the 1940s, by comparison, mapped out a pan-Chewa culture with the immediate aim of reforming colonial ‘protectorate’ government – the goal of an independent Malawian nation state still yet to fully form.


  • Glaciologue, Raciste : Louis Agassiz (1807 – 2013)

    Glaciologue, Raciste : Louis Agassiz (1807 – 2013)

    Les créateurs de l’exposition « Gletscherforscher, Rassist : Louis Agassiz (1807–2013) » ont décidé de publier en ligne la version française. Si quelqu’un est intéressé par l’organisation d’une présentation physique de l’exposition, il/elle est invitéE à nous contacter par e-mail : hans.faessler [at] louverture.ch. Les modèles d’impression pour les roll-ups sont prêts et à disposition.

    Hans Fässler : président de l’association, recherches
    Hans Barth : concept, recherches
    Hannah Traber : typographie, graphisme
    Sasha Huber : interventions artistiques


    Tableau 1 : Un siècle de racisme
    Tableau 2 : Louis Agassiz (1807–1873)
    Tableau 3 : Un siècle d’humanité
    Tableau 4 : Agassizhorn, l‘histoire d’un pic
    Tableau 5 : Lettre à sa mère
    Tableau 6 : Agassiz le raciste
    Tableau 7 : De Harvard à Berlin
    Tableau 8 : Agassiz ou Hitler ?
    Tableau 9 : Victimes du racisme
    Tableau 10 : Histoire d’un déni
    Tableau 11 : Sept mythes sur Louis Agassiz

    #ressources_pédagogques #racisme #décolonisation_des_savoirs #colonialisme #Aggassiz #suisse_coloniale

  • projection #Equal_Earth

    NDLR : la carte est réalisée à partir de la projection Equal Earth créée par une équipe scientifique en 2018 dans le cadre d’un projet en open data. Cette projection résulte d’un travail de recherche cartographique visant à décoloniser le regard sans perturber la perception du monde issue de la cartographie traditionnelle.

    Elle montre ainsi les continents et les pays à leur taille réelle les uns par rapport aux autres, dans une représentation qui se veut « plus neutre et consensuelle et qui « débouch[e] sur un ”monde en partage” ».

    #projections #projection #cartographie #décolonisation #visualisation

    ping @cede @fil

    • The Equal Earth map projection

      The Equal Earth map projection is a new equal-area pseudocylindrical projection for world maps. It is inspired by the widely used Robinson projection, but unlike the Robinson projection, retains the relative size of areas. The projection equations are simple to implement and fast to evaluate. Continental outlines are shown in a visually pleasing and balanced way.


    • Disponible dans d3-geo ; première fois que je vois mentionner la « décolonisation du regard » pour cette projection. Je n’ai pas le souvenir que ça ait été mentionné comme un but. Le papier motive cette projection de la manière suivante

      Equal Earth is a possible solution for Boston Public Schools and other organizations wanting world maps that show all countries at their true relative sizes.

      As professional cartographers, though, we know that equal-area projections are not the panacea that these organizations might think. For example, continental shapes suffer. And there are the many compromise projections (such as the Robinson projection) that are not quite equal-area but still highly suitable for making world maps. Nevertheless, when an equalarea map must be used, we offer the Equal Earth projection as an alternative to the GallPeters and other cylindrical and pseudocylindrical equal-area projections. Its key features are its resemblance to the popular Robinson projection and continents with a visually pleasing appearance similar to those found on a globe.

  • #Global_social_theory

    This site is intended as a free resource for students, teachers, academics, and others interested in social theory and wishing to understand it in global perspective. It emerges from a long-standing concern with the parochiality of standard perspectives on social theory and seeks to provide an introduction to a variety of theorists and theories from around the world. The particular impetus for the setting up of the site was the recent campaign organised by students in the UK asking ‘Why is my curriculum white?‘ This site is one attempt to build resources that will hopefully complement and broaden our shared conversations in this area.

    The site is being developed and resourced collaboratively and will be added to on a regular basis. It hopes to draw upon the knowledge and expertise of all those who read it and so, please, do get in touch and offer an entry on a topic, thinker, or concept that you think should be included at the email address below.


    #pensée_critique #concepts #ressources_pédagogiques #géographie_critique #dictionnaire #décolonisation_des_savoirs

    ping @cede @karine4 @reka

    • Comme beaucoup j’attends depuis longtemps ces excuses comme un acte adulte et juste.
      Et je suis au désespoir pour toutes celleux qui subissent encore les « dommages collatéraux » de cette colonisation, et je me demande combien de générations vont continuer d’être humiliées parce que la france refuse de reconnaitre ses responsabilités ?
      Tant que la France n’aura pas regardé en face ses horreurs commises en Algérie et fait son mea-culpa, le terrain de la politique intérieure restera miné et rien ne pourra avancer vers l’intelligence.
      Macron le crétin en est la preuve même, et le racisme de toute l’organisation sociale, de l’urbanisme au taux de chômage, continue de se déployer avec la police française à la manœuvre.
      Je suis triste pour mes ami·es d’origine algérienne né·es en france tout comme pour les traumatisés de la guerre, mon oncle soldat durant la guerre et qui refuse d’en parler, mon beau-père soldat dans les tirailleurs qui a disparu abandonnant ses trois enfants en bas âge parce que devenu violent au retour de l’Algérie.
      Toute cette haine qui perdure dans la croyance de la supériorité raciale française qui a prévalut à la colonisation et à l’enrichissement de certains, il serait bien temps de s’en excuser.

    • Comme je te l’avais dit, la conquête de l’Algérie est peu documentée, et très mal connue. Alors que ce fut une boucherie. A lire les manuels scolaire, on a l’impression d’une installation presque pacifique dans un pays presque vide. Ce ne fut évidemment pas le cas mais on a bati une légende dorée allant plus ou moins dans ce sens puisque le meilleur et le plus grand lycée d’Alger s’appelait lycée Bugeaud.
      Après formuler des excuses, je ne sais pas si ça a vraiment un sens, pour la conquête s’entend, mais on pourrait au moins faire en sorte que l’enseignement de l’histoire soit correct (et envisager des poursuites au civil pour les mecs qui racontent objectivement n’importe quoi à la télé)

    • Effectivement, surprenant J.-M. Aphatie, à son tout meilleur.

      La référence à l’Argentine est bien venue : il est notoire que ce sont des militaires français, anciens de l’Algérie, qui ont « théorisé » les bases de la contre-insurrection (on dit maintenant à l’états-unienne Coin). David Galula a été LA référence pour les états-uniens et pour les militaires d’Amérique latine aux premiers rangs desquels les Argentins.

    • Selon ce post LinkedIn qui devient viral sur Facebook, la France a envoyé ces 60 camions de police pour soutenir la répression des manifestations en cours en #Tunisie.

      On ne change pas une équipe qui gagne !

      Les camions étaient non seulement importés de France mais aussi fabriqués en France par Arquus, le principal fournisseur de l’armée française. Le producteur est anciennement connu sous le nom de Renault Trucks Defense. L’entreprise appartient au groupe suédois Volvo.


    • https://www.sudouest.fr/2021/01/24/bugeaud-l-assassin-jean-michel-apathie-veut-que-la-france-demande-pardon-au

      "Bugeaud, l’assassin" : Jean-Michel Apathie veut que la France demande pardon aux Algériens

      Frilosité sur le sujet en Périgord

      Au fil de son réquisitoire (validé par Pascal Blanchard pour sa justesse historique), Jean-Michel Apathie s’est encore une fois prononcé pour "déboulonner" le maréchal colonisateur #Bugeaud, "figure de cette barbarie" et "assassin", en demandant que la Ville de Paris débaptise l’avenue qui porte son nom. La Dordogne, où il possédait une propriété à Lanouaille et fut maire d’Excideuil, est plus prompte à célébrer la figure du "soldat laboureur" à l’origine des comices agricoles. Aucun élu, y compris la nouvelle maire socialiste de Périgueux Delphine Labails, ne se s’est prononcé pour débaptiser les lieux célébrant Bugeaud ou retirer ses statues.

      “Nous, Français, avons martyrisé un peuple pendant un siècle.”
      Pour @jmaphatie, la France doit présenter des excuses aux Algériens. #Clhebdo pic.twitter.com/a2mhqoitJ5
      — C l’hebdo (@clhebdo5) January 24, 2021

      Bugeaud (1784–1849) était l’un des militaires chargé de la conquête de l’Algérie en 1844–1845. Nommé gouverneur général, il y a pratiqué « les enfumades » (mort par enfumage d’Algériens enfermés dans des grottes). Sur ses consignes, « plus de 1 000 hommes, femmes et enfants de la tribu des Ouled Riah qui s’étaient réfugiés avec leur bétail dans une grotte du Dahra, près de Mostaganem », en 1845, ont par exemple été asphyxiés.

    • Guerre d’Algérie : qui est Ali Boumendjel, à qui le rapport Stora recommande de rendre hommage ?
      par Chloé Leprince - france Culture

      Le rapport sur “les mémoires de la colonisation et de la guerre d’Algérie de 2021" remis le 19 janvier 2021 à Emmanuel Macron par l’historien Benjamin Stora avait pour objectif officiel de "regarder l’histoire en face" d’une "façon sereine et apaisée" afin de "construire une mémoire de l’intégration". La ligne de crête choisie par Benjamin Stora est celle de la reconnaissance à défaut de "repentance" (ou d’excuses). Pour ça comme pour réanimer la volonté politique en berne, il faut des figures. Et l’une des 22 propositions que compte le rapport Stora (que vous pouvez consulter ici) consiste justement à renflouer, côté français, la #mémoire d’une personnalité importante de la guerre d’Algérie, Ali Boumendjel : l’historien suggère à Emmanuel Macron de reconnaître que l’armée française a assassiné l’avocat et dirigeant nationaliste algérien en 1957.

      Avec cette recommandation, Benjamin Stora met en exergue un dossier essentiel, et laborieux : celui des disparus de la guerre d’Algérie, et en particulier des milliers d’hommes, de frères, de maris, de pères ou d’oncles des Algériens et des Algériennes d’aujourd’hui, qui ont disparu un jour. Ce fut particulièrement le cas dans une période du conflit que l’on appelle “la bataille d’Alger”, et qui correspond à l’année 1957, lorsque le pouvoir civil des représentants de la France métropolitaine en territoire algérien a été confisqué par les militaires. Et en particulier, par des parachutistes. De cette époque demeure la trace d’une impuissance de la justice et de l’administration civile à faire respecter le droit et, en miroir, celle d’une impunité immense. De cette époque, reste, surtout, une mémoire béante dans des centaines de familles où l’on n’a rien su de ses morts. Et un besoin d’histoire.


      « Je crois que les responsables politiques français ne mesurent pas à quel point des familles entières ont été dévastées par les mensonges d’Etat », souligne aujourd’hui la nièce du militant assassiné. Elle aimerait que l’on reconnaisse que « le colonialisme est une atteinte à la dignité humaine au même titre que la Shoah et l’esclavage ».

      « La réhabilitation (d’Ali Boumendjel) est une approche de la vérité. C’est bien, à condition que l’on reconnaisse qu’il a été sauvagement torturé durant des semaines et que son assassinat a été masqué en suicide », dit-elle du rapport Stora.

      « Mais pourquoi le singulariser ? Il faut la vérité pour tous. Célèbres ou anonymes. Pourquoi ne pas célébrer le martyr inconnu ? ».

      #Guerre_d'Algérie #torture #histoire #décolonisation

    • Sur le rapport de Benjamin Stora : le conseiller contre l’historien, par Olivier Le Cour Grandmaison

      Le Benjamin Stora historien a capitulé devant le Benjamin Stora devenu conseiller pour permettre au second de présenter à Emmanuel Macron un programme commémoriel congruent à ses desseins électoraux. Afin de ne pas heurter certains groupes mémoriels au mieux conservateurs, au pire réactionnaires, et justifier par avance, conformément aux desiderata du chef de l’Etat, l’absence de reconnaissance officielle des crimes de guerre et des crimes contre l’humanité perpétrés par la France, il fallait euphémiser ces derniers pour mieux rejeter cette revendication en faisant croire qu’elle est dangereuse, irresponsable et inutile.

    • Une histoire française. A propos du rapport Stora

      Benjamin Stora sait que l’histoire n’est jamais éloignée de la politique. Son style élégant et son érudition éclectique en ont aussi fait un authentique écrivain. Mais le dispositif d’une commande d’Etat interroge l’exigence d’indépendance qu’un intellectuel doit s’imposer. C’est parce que j’ai toujours aimé lire l’auteur de La Gangrène et l’Oubli que je lui adresse ici ma critique.

  • Pour la suite du monde par Pierre Perrault, Michel Brault - ONF

    Documentaire poétique et ethnographique sur la vie des habitants de l’Isle-aux-Coudres rendue d’abord par une langue, verte et dure, toujours éloquente, puis par la légendaire pêche au marsouin, travail en mer gouverné par la lune et les marées. Un véritable chef-d’oeuvre du #cinéma_direct. Pierre Perrault, Michel Brault et Marcel Carrière ont fait ce film.

    #film #documentaire

    • Cinéma direct



      Le cinéma direct , à proprement parler, naît à #Montréal (province de #Québec), au siège social de l’ONF, au sein du « studio français », et ce, en plein synchronisme historique de ce qu’on appellera la « révolution tranquille ». Cette période d’émancipation culturelle et économique peut se comprendre succinctement par la convergence de trois phénomènes : le courant de #décolonisation_mondial, le développement de l’#État-providence accompagné d’une #laïcisation_institutionnelle, ensemble rendu possible par la croissance économique des #Trente_Glorieuses et par le #baby_boom québécois.

      Le résultat de ces trois mouvements qui chamboulent complètement la société québécoise est une myriade de points de vue contradictoires dont rend compte l’article sur Les Raquetteurs de Michel Brault (1958). La contribution du cinéma québécois au direct est probablement la plus importante contribution faite au cinéma mondial par cette cinématographie nationale.

      Au début des années 1960, des amitiés importantes se lient entre des réalisateurs québécois et français. Claude Jutra qui séjourne en France sera proche de François Truffaut. Pour sa part, Gilles Groulx entretient un lien avec Jean-Luc Godard.


      #documentaire #cinéma

      Trente Glorieuses: https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trente_Glorieuses

  • Le «#navi_bianche», quando i profughi dall’Africa erano italiani

    «Donne smunte, lacerate accaldate, affrante dalle fatiche, scosse dalle emozioni… Bimbi sparuti che le lunghe privazioni e l’ardore del clima hanno immiserito e stremato fino al limite». Si presentavano così i coloni dell’ormai “ex Impero” agli occhi di #Zeno_Garroni, regio commissario della missione speciale che avrebbe rimpatriato 28mila tra donne, anziani, bambini e ragazzi sotto 15 anni dall’Etiopia, dall’Eritrea e dalla Somalia, paesi di quell’Africa orientale italiana facilmente conquistata all’inizio del 1941 dalle truppe britanniche. Un’ondata di profughi “bianchi” che ricevette un’accoglienza diversa da quella destinata oggi ai naufraghi ma che, come loro, si lasciavano alle spalle la esperienza drammatica della prigionia nei campi alleati.

    Alla missione umanitaria si arrivò dopo una lunga trattativa tra il governo britannico e quello italiano. Furono allestite quattro navi (“Saturnia”, “Vulcania”, “Caio Duilio” e “Giulio Cesare”), dipinte di bianco con grandi croci rosse, alle quali fu imposto il periplo dell’Africa, dal momento che non fu permesso loro di passare attraverso il canale di Suez. Il viaggio, così, diventava molto lungo: circa cinquanta giorni. E pericoloso: la prima spedizione salpò nell’aprile del 1942 da Genova e Trieste, la terza e ultima attraccò a Taranto nell’agosto del 1943. Tutto in piena guerra, quella che si combatteva anche lungo le rotte e i porti del Mediterraneo.

    «Costretti ad abbandonare case e averi, concentrati dai britannici in campi provvisori e da lì inviati a Berbera direttamente per l’imbarco - scrive lo storico Emanuele Ertola che alla vicenda delle “navi bianche” ha dedicato un saggio - affaticati e storditi dopo un lungo viaggio attraverso l’Etiopia in treno e camionetta, i rimpatrianti dovevano quindi sopportare la lunga attesa per salire a bordo». Qui venivano subito assistiti dal personale sanitario (c’erano medici e infermieri) ma affrontavano da subito il problema del sovraffollamento. Durante l’imbarco e il viaggio - soprattutto della prima spedizione - molti bambini, già provati e sofferenti per vita nei campi di concentramento britannici e sfiancati dalle condizioni climatiche, morirono. «Ricordo benissimo, giorno per giorno, la vita a bordo, che è durata circa un mese e mezzo - racconta una testimone, Maria Gabriella Ripa di Meana, citata nel libro di Massimo Zamorani Dalle navi bianche alla linea gotica (Mursia), inviato del Giornale di Indro Montanelli che era uno dei tanti bambini italiani d’Africa -. Ricordo i bambini più piccoli che morivano per infezione diarroica; ricordo l’epidemia di tosse convulsa che imperversava tra i bambini più grandi. Ricordo la madre disperata che aveva assistito alla fine del suo piccolo; ricordo che le donne in stato di gravidanza erano terrorizzate e ricordo che non c’erano più letti disponibili nell’infermeria strapiena».

    Ma oltre che umanitaria, nelle intenzioni del governo fascista, quella delle “navi bianche” doveva essere anche una missione politica. Aveva lo scopo di preparare i profughi che avevano vissuto nelle colonie al reinserimento nella vita della madrepatria e a “rieducarli” ai principi «della gerarchia e dei valori sociali » soprattutto dopo il periodo di prigionia nei campi britannici. Tra i “ragazzi d’Africa” c’era anche il futuro fumettista Hugo Pratt, all’epoca del rientro appena quindicenne. Come altri suoi coetanei si arruolò volontario appena compiuti diciotto anni, convinto che quella della fedeltà al regime fosse l’unica scelta possibile. Tra i bambini sopravvissuti c’era anche Luciano Violante (è nato a Dire Daua nel 1941) che, magistrato e politico ex comunista, molti anni dopo nel suo discorso di insediamento da presidente della Camera invitò a riflettere sui «vinti di ieri» per capire «senza revisionismi falsificanti» anche chi si schierò «dalla parte di Salò».

    #réfugiés #réfugiés_italiens #décolonisation #Afrique #Corne_d'Afrique #Ethiopie #Erythrée #Somalie #navires #Saturnia #Vulcania #Caio_Duilio #Giulio_Cesare #Berbera #colonialisme #camps_de_concentration #réinsertion #rééducation #Hugo_Pratt

    • The World Refugees Made. Decolonization and the Foundation of Postwar Italy

      In The World Refugees Made, #Pamela_Ballinger explores Italy’s remaking in light of the loss of a wide range of territorial possessions—colonies, protectorates, and provinces—in Africa and the Balkans, the repatriation of Italian nationals from those territories, and the integration of these “national refugees” into a country devastated by war and overwhelmed by foreign displaced persons from Eastern Europe. Post-World War II Italy served as an important laboratory, in which categories differentiating foreign refugees (who had crossed national boundaries) from national refugees (those who presumably did not) were debated, refined, and consolidated. Such distinctions resonated far beyond that particular historical moment, informing legal frameworks that remain in place today. Offering an alternative genealogy of the postwar international refugee regime, Ballinger focuses on the consequences of one of its key omissions: the ineligibility from international refugee status of those migrants who became classified as national refugees.

      The presence of displaced persons also posed the complex question of who belonged, culturally and legally, in an Italy that was territorially and politically reconfigured by decolonization. The process of demarcating types of refugees thus represented a critical moment for Italy, one that endorsed an ethnic conception of identity that citizenship laws made explicit. Such an understanding of identity remains salient, as Italians still invoke language and race as bases of belonging in the face of mass immigration and ongoing refugee emergencies. Ballinger’s analysis of the postwar international refugee regime and Italian decolonization illuminates the study of human rights history, humanitarianism, postwar reconstruction, fascism and its aftermaths, and modern Italian history.

      #livre #rapatriement #nationalisme #identité #citoyenneté


      Et un autre mot...

      Post-World War II Italy served as an important laboratory, in which categories differentiating #foreign_refugees (who had crossed national boundaries) from #national_refugees (those who presumably did not) were debated, refined, and consolidated.

      #terminologie #vocabulaire #mots
      –-> ajouté à la métaliste: https://seenthis.net/messages/414225
      ping @sinehebdo

    • Dalle navi bianche alla Linea Gotica

      Tra il 1941 e il 1943 quattro transatlantici della Marina mercantile italiana – Saturnia, Vulcania, Giulio Cesare e Caio Duilio – furono appositamente trasformati nelle cosiddette Navi Bianche per riportare in patria dall’Africa Orientale Italiana 30.000 civili prelevati dalle loro case dopo l’occupazione del 1941 e rinchiusi nei campi di concentramento britannici: donne, anziani, invalidi e tantissimi bambini.

      Tra questi c’era anche #Massimo_Zamorani, che racconta il viaggio epico vissuto in prima persona, a quindici anni, attraverso mari invasi dai sommergibili in guerra. Dopo mesi nei campi di prigionia trascorsi in proibitive condizioni climatiche, igieniche, alimentari e sanitarie, i rimpatriandi si trovarono ad affrontare un percorso lunghissimo e difficile di circumnavigazione dell’Africa, poiché il governo britannico non aveva concesso il passaggio dal Canale di Suez.

      Come altri giovani rimpatriati – fra questi anche l’allora sconosciuto Hugo Pratt, futuro creatore di Corto Maltese – appena compiuti gli anni minimi Zamorani si arruolò volontario nell’esercito della Repubblica Sociale e combatté sulla Linea Gotica dove, dato disperso in combattimento, finì ancora una volta prigioniero in Algeria e poi a Taranto.

      Un episodio poco noto della Seconda guerra mondiale nella straordinaria testimonianza di un piccolo sopravvissuto che tornerà da grande in Africa orientale, come inviato speciale.


    • Navi bianche. Missione di pace in tempo di guerra

      Erano le unità ospedaliere della nostra flotta. Navigavano protette dalle convenzioni internazionali, ma alcune ugualmente colarono a picco per siluramento, mine, mitragliatrici. Il racconto di questa grandiosa impresa poco conosciuta nei suoi moventi e nella sua esecuzione ma pervasa da un alto senso di umanità, densa di drammaticità e contessuta di episodi molto interessanti, anche dal punto di vista storico, si presenta molto complesso. Le missioni furono tre: dal marzo al giugno 1942; dal settembre 1942 al gennaio 1943; dal maggio all’agosto del 1943; compiute con 4 grandi piroscafi: Vulcania, Saturnia, Duilio e Giulio Cesare.


  • Des paysages et des visages, le voyage intellectuel de #Felwine_Sarr

    Felwine Sarr nous invite, dans "La saveur des derniers mètres", à partager ses voyages à travers le monde, mais aussi un cheminement intellectuel, celui d’un homme qui veut repenser notre manière d’#habiter_le_monde et redéfinir la relation entre l’Afrique et les autres continents.

    L’économiste sénégalais Felwine Sarr est l’un des intellectuels importants du continent Africain. Ecrivain et professeur d’économie, il est également musicien. Deux de ses livres ont notamment fait date : Afrotopia (2016) et Habiter le monde (2017). Avec Achille Mbembé, il est le fondateur des Ateliers de la pensée de Dakar. Chaque année, des intellectuels et artistes s’y rencontrent lors d’un festival des idées transdisciplinaire pour “repenser les devenirs africains” à travers des concepts adaptés aux réalités contemporaines.

    La littérature, les arts, la production d’imaginaires et de sens demeurent de formidables boussoles pour l’humanité. Nous sommes dans une crise de l’imaginaire, nous n’arrivons pas à déboucher les horizons. (Felwine Sarr)

    L’utopie nous dit qu’on peut féconder le réel, faire en sorte qu’il y ait un surcroit de réel. (...) Le premier travail est d’imaginer qu’ "il est possible de..." (...) Il faut reprendre le chantier qui consiste à dire qu’il existe des horizons souhaitables, qu’il faut les penser, les imaginer, et travailler pour les faire advenir. (Felwine Sarr)

    Felwine Sarr a été, avec l’historienne de l’art Bénédicte Savoy, chargé de rédiger un rapport sur la restitution des œuvres d’art africaines spoliées lors de la colonisation, remis à Emmanuel Macron en novembre 2018.

    Nous devons reprendre notre élan notamment en reconstruisant un rapport à notre patrimoine, à notre histoire. (Felwine Sarr)

    Son livre La saveur des derniers mètres (éditions Philippe Rey) est une invitation au voyage intellectuel et physique, le voyage des idées et des hommes, un plaidoyer presque, pour l’importance des rencontres et du dialogue avec l’autre. La confrontation avec des ailleurs (Mexico, Mantoue, Le Caire, Istanbul, Port-au-Prince, Cassis, Kampala, Douala), mais aussi le retour chez soi, l’île de Niodior, sa terre natale, son point d’ancrage, sa matrice. Imaginaire en voyage et voyage des imaginaires.

    Goûter à la saveur du monde est un droit qui doit être équitablement réparti. Il faut considérer la mobilité comme un droit fondamental. (Felwine Sarr)

    Un récit entre le carnet de voyage, les notes de l’économiste, les réflexions anthropologiques et les évasions poétiques. Une plongée intime dans des transports de la pensée et du coeur.

    Voyager permet d’avoir un regard en biais, en relief, à la fois en dedans et en dehors. (Felwine Sarr)

    Appartenir à une île, c’est devoir la quitter. (Felwine Sarr)


    Lecture d’un texte de #Tanella_Boni :

    « Y aurait-il, depuis toujours, des peuples et des individus qui auraient droit à l’#aventure, suivraient leurs désirs de se déplacer en bravant toute sorte d’obstacles, et d’autres qui n’en auraient pas le droit. #Nous_sommes_tous_des_migrants et tout migrant a des #rêves et des #désirs. Certes, les lois doivent être respectées et les passages aux frontières autorisés, on ne part pas comme ça à l’aventure, dit-on. Comme ça, sur un coup de tête. Ou par pur #plaisir. Mais qui donc part aujourd’hui par pur plaisir sur les routes inhospitalières de nulle part. Dans certains pays où le mal-être des individus est palpable, chacun pourrait habiter quelque part, il y aurait moins de migration illégale. Je rêve, tandis que l’on continue de mesurer le seuil de pauvreté dans le monde. De nombreux pays africains vivent en dessous de ce seuil. Tout compte fait, est-ce que je sais de quoi habiter est le nom ? »

    –-> à l’occasion du festival Banquet d’été 2020

    #faire_monde #restitution #pillage #art #Afrique #colonialisme #imagination #imaginaire #utopie #futur #téléologie_inversée #covid-19 #coronavirus #rêves_collectifs #ouvrir_les_futurs #frontières #habiter #mobilité #migrations #liberté_de_mouvement #citoyenneté #liberté_de_circulation #inégalités #décolonialité #décolonial #décolonisation


    Il parle notamment des #ateliers_de_la_pensée (#Dakar) qu’il a co-fondés avec #Achille_Membé

    ping @karine4 @isskein

  • The strange case of Portugal’s returnees

    White settler returnees to Portugal in #1975, and the history of decolonization, can help us understand the complicated category of refugee.

    The year is 1975, and the footage comes from the Portuguese Red Cross. The ambivalence is there from the start. Who, or maybe what, are these people? The clip title calls them “returnees from Angola.” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wzd9_gh646U

    ) At Lisbon airport, they descend the gangway of a US-operated civil airplane called “Freedom.” Clothes, sunglasses, hairstyles, and sideburns: no doubt, these are the 1970s. The plane carries the inscription “holiday liner,” but these people are not on vacation. A man clings tight to his transistor radio, a prized possession brought from far away Luanda. Inside the terminal, hundreds of returnees stand in groups, sit on their luggage, or camp on the floor. White people, black people, brown people. Men, women, children, all ages. We see them filing paperwork, we see volunteers handing them sandwiches and donated clothes, we see a message board through which those who have lost track of their loved ones try to reunite. These people look like refugees (http://tracosdememoria.letras.ulisboa.pt/pt/arquivo/documentos-escritos/retornados-no-aeroporto-de-lisboa-1975). Or maybe they don’t?

    Returnees or retornados is the term commonly assigned to more than half-a-million people, the vast majority of them white settlers from Angola and Mozambique, most of whom arrived in Lisbon during the course of 1975, the year that these colonies acquired their independence from Portugal. The returnees often hastily fled the colonies they had called home because they disapproved of the one party, black majority state after independence, and resented the threat to their racial and social privilege; because they dreaded the generalized violence of civil war and the breakdown of basic infrastructures and services in the newly independent states; because they feared specific threats to their property, livelihood, and personal safety; or because their lifeworld was waning before their eyes as everyone else from their communities left in what often resembled a fit of collective panic.

    Challenged by this influx from the colonies at a time of extreme political instability and economic turmoil in Portugal, the authorities created the legal category of returnees for those migrants who held Portuguese citizenship and seemed unable to “integrate” by their own means into Portuguese society. Whoever qualified as a returnee before the law was entitled to the help of the newly created state agency, Institute for the Support of the Return of the Nationals (IARN). As the main character of an excellent 2011 novel by Dulce Maria Cardoso on the returnees states:

    In almost every answer there was one word we had never heard before, the I.A.R.N., the I.A.R.N., the I.A.R.N. The I.A.R.N. had paid our air fares, the I.A.R.N. would put us up in hotels, the I.A.R.N. would pay for the transport to the hotels, the I.A.R.N. would give us food, the I.A.R.N. would give us money, the I.A.R.N. would help us, the I.A.R.N. would advise us, the I.A.R.N. would give us further information. I had never heard a single word repeated so many times, the I.A.R.N. seemed to be more important and generous than God.

    The legal category “returnee” policed the access to this manna-from-welfare heaven, but the label also had a more symbolic dimension: calling those arriving from Angola and Mozambique “returnees” implied an orderly movement, and possibly a voluntary migration; it also suggested that they came back to a place where they naturally fit, to the core of a Portuguese nation that they had always been a part of. In this sense, the term was also meant to appeal to the solidarity of the resident population with the newcomers: in times of dire public finances, the government hoped to legitimize its considerable spending on behalf of these “brothers” from the nation’s (former) overseas territories.

    Many migrants, however, rebutted the label attached to them. While they were happy to receive the aid offered by state bureaucracies and NGOs like the Portuguese Red Cross, they insisted that they were refugees (refugiados), not returnees. One in three of them, as they pointed out, had been born in Africa. Far from returning to Portugal, they were coming for the first time, and often did not feel welcome there. Most felt that they had not freely decided to leave, that their departure had been chaotic, that they had had no choice but to give up their prosperous and happy lives in the tropics. (At the time, they never publicly reflected on the fact that theirs was the happiness of a settler minority, and that prosperity was premised on the exploitation of the colonized.) Many were convinced they would return to their homelands one day, and many of them proudly identified as “Angolans” or “Africans” rather than as Portuguese. All in all, they claimed that they had been forcibly uprooted, and that now they were discriminated against and living precariously in the receiving society—in short, that they shared the predicaments we typically associate with the condition of the refugee.

    Some of them wrote to the UNHCR, demanding the agency should help them as refugees. The UNHCR, however, declined. In 1976, High Commissioner Prince Aga Khan referred to the 1951 Refugee Convention, explaining that his mandate applied “only to persons outside the country of their nationality,” and that since “the repatriated individuals, in their majority, hold Portuguese nationality, [they] do not fall under my mandate.” The UNHCR thus supported the returnee label the Portuguese authorities had created, although high-ranking officials within the organization were in fact critical of this decision—in the transitory moment of decolonization, when the old imperial borders gave way to the new borders of African nation-states, it was not always easy to see who would count as a refugee even by the terms of the 1951 Convention.

    In short, the strange case of Portugal’s returnees—much like that of the pieds-noirs, French settlers “repatriated” from Algeria—points to the ambiguities of the “refugee.” In refugee studies and migration history, the term defines certain groups of people we study. In international law, the category bestows certain rights on specific individuals. As a claim-making concept, finally, “the refugee” is a tool that various actors—migrants, governments, international organizations, NGOs—use to voice demands and to mobilize, to justify their politics, or to interpret their experiences. What are we to make of this overlap? While practitioners of the refugee regime will have different priorities, I think that migration scholars should treat the “refugee” historically. We need to critically analyze who is using the term in which ways in any given situation. As an actor’s category, “refugee” is not an abstract concept detached from time and place, context, and motivations. Rather, it is historically specific, as its meanings change over time; it is relational, because it is defined against the backdrop of other terms and phenomena; and it is strategic, because it is supposed to do something for the people who use the term. The refugee concept is thus intrinsically political.

    Does analyzing “the refugee” as an actor’s category mean that we must abandon it as an analytical tool altogether? Certainly not. We should continue to research “refugees” as a historically contested category of people. While there will always be a tension between the normative and analytical dimensions, historicizing claims to being a “refugee” can actually strengthen the concept’s analytical purchase: it can complicate our understanding of forced migrations and open our eyes to the wide range of degrees of voluntariness or force involved in any migration decision. It can help us to think the state of being a refugee not as an absolute, but as a gradual, relational, and contextualized category. In the case of the returnees, and independently from what either the migrants or the Portuguese government or the UNHCR argued, such an approach will allow us to analyze the migrants as “privileged refugees.”

    Let me explain: For all the pressures that pushed some of them to leave their homes, for all the losses they endured, and for all the hardships that marked their integration into Portuguese society, the returnees, a privileged minority in a settler colony, also had a relatively privileged experience of (forced) migration and reintegration when colonialism ended. This becomes clear when comparing their experience to the roughly 20,000 Africans that, at the same time as the returnees, made it to Portugal but who, unlike them, were neither accepted as citizens nor entitled to comprehensive welfare—regardless of the fact that they had grown up being told that they were an integral part of a multi-continental Portuguese nation, and despite the fact that they were fleeing the same collapsing empire as the returnees were. Furthermore, we must bear in mind that in Angola and Mozambique, hundreds of thousands of Africans were forcibly displaced first by Portugal’s brutal colonial wars (1961-1974), then during the civil wars after independence (1975-2002 in Angola, 1977-1992 in Mozambique). Unlike the returnees, most of these forced migrants never had the opportunity to seek refuge in the safe haven of Portugal. Ultimately, the returnees’ experience can therefore only be fully understood when it is put into the broader context of these African refugee flows, induced as they were by the violent demise of settler colonialism in the process of decolonization.

    So, what were these people in the YouTube clip, then? Returnees? Or African refugees? I hope that by now you will agree that … well … it’s complicated.


    #Portugal #colonialisme #catégorisation #réfugiés #asile #décolonisation #Angola #réfugiés_portugais #histoire #rapatriés #rapatriés_portugais #Mozambique #indépendance #nationalisme #retour_volontaire #discriminations #retour_forcé #retour #nationalité

    Et un nouveau mot pour la liste de @sinehebdo :
    #terminologie #vocabulaire #mots

    ping @isskein @karine4