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This chapter addresses the law of treaties using feminist lenses. It acknowledges the significance of treaty-making in modern international law and the increasing role of non-government organisations in this field. It then examines some of the gendered aspects of treaty law and the problems inherent in using this mechanism to improve the position of women. The chapter observes that international treaty law can be, however, a valuable yardstick to measure responses of national decision-makers with respect to women’s lives.
This chapter explores how the French government has responded to Turkey’s diaspora engagement policy and diaspora diplomacy, and demonstrates that Turkey’s new diaspora agenda has generated backlash and complicated expatriate Turks’ relations with policymakers, more so in Germany than in France. By drawing from interviews with French diplomats and policymakers, news sources, national censuses and existing surveys, the chapter argues that France’s traditionally less interventionist stance towards Turkey can be explained by several factors. Turks have a privileged status in the eyes of French policymakers vis-à-vis North Africans because of their smaller numbers. Turks also have a less contested historical relationship with France than that of North Africans who suffered under French colonialism and its inherent racial hierarchies. Turks’ exemption from this placement stems not only from the lack of a colonial relationship between Turkey and France but also from the popular conception of Turkey as a country like France (both with strong state traditions and a secular regime) and of Turks as people with a liminal position between Europe and the Middle East. The chapter also examines France’s laïc regime and relations with the Muslim community to account for the historically greater Turkish influence in the French territory. In summary, the chapter delves into France’s immigration, citizenship and integration policies as well as state policies towards religion, focusing on its ties to the Turkish community.
The corollary to the prohibition of the unilateral use of force is the obligation for the peaceful settlement of disputes and the collective security system established under chapter seven of the UN Charter. The chapter examines the concepts and processes of international dispute resolution through the lens of sex and gender. It argues that the understanding of dispute resolution in international law, as well as that of collective security, are limited and serve to sustain impoverished concepts of peace and security.
The chapter revisits the central argument of the book: that sex and gender (and other identities – race, ethnicity, coloniality) have shaped international law and that the exclusion of women from the substance, methodologies and processes of international law undermine the discipline’s claims to universality and objectivity. It then considers developments in the 1990s, notably in the institutions and processes of international criminal law, that have led to claims of a ‘new’ or ‘transformed’ international law where women’s lives are addressed. It concludes that despite these advances the boundaries of international law have not in fact been significantly shifted.
In this introduction, Falkof begins by exploring the changes that have come to South Africa in her years abroad. Talk of crime, risk, danger, security and social decay peppers her conversations and leads to queries as to why she would sacrifice a ‘safe’ life in England for the risky, unsettling realities of home. The inherent risk of being a white, middle-class woman tallies with the contradictory notion that moving is risky – but so is staying still. Many of these dramatic tales of risk are overtly racialised – the media and political discourse aimed at them/us make it clear that black men in particular are a threat. For Falkof, her own prejudices are questioned when she finds herself crossing the street or locking her car doors at red lights at the sight of such black men. Coming back to South Africa makes it clear that her politics cannot unsettle the parts of her identity she is uncomfortable with. This chapter introduces the idea that Africa should be recontextualised and not viewed as ‘surplus, derivative, a place of bluff…’ but as a juxtaposition: a place that combines desperate poverty and ostentatious wealth. In this way, the public script becomes suffused with stories of the uncanny, fear and of threat.
The book’s conclusion summarises the book’s central goals and arguments. It underlines the broader analytical implications of Turkey’s diaspora diplomacy for the Turkish diaspora and Turkey’s relations with the EU. The chapter also looks at the book’s implications beyond diaspora diplomacy and suggests that its findings speak to other enduring debates in anthropology, international relations, political science, sociology and public policy. These include, but are not limited to, the continuing supremacy of the nation-state in the globalised age, populist nationalism, authoritarianism and non-democratic politics and immigrant integration. The chapter sketches out whether the book’s findings can be generalised to other cases. More specifically, it focuses on how various states across the world, such as India, China, Israel, Morocco, the Dominican Republic and the Philippines, engage their diasporas to advance their political interests abroad. The chapter concludes by highlighting the book’s contributions and by listing certain limitations of the book that future studies should address.
The book’s introduction aims to engage the reader by setting up the context, rationale and scope of the book. The book has three objectives. The first is to understand the reasons behind the Turkish government’s growing interest in its diaspora. It also examines the impact of Turkey’s policy change in diaspora affairs on emigrant groups from Turkey. Have Turkey’s new engagement policies and rhetoric resonated with members of its overseas population? Has Turkey been able to mobilise its diaspora effectively? Finally, the book explores European states’ reaction to Turkey’s expanding sphere of influence over its diaspora. The introduction provides the non-specialist reader with the necessary background through a historical overview of large-scale Turkish emigration to Europe. After pointing to the shortcomings of the existing literature on diasporas and diplomacy, it presents the book’s objectives and main argument. It also briefly defines the main concepts used in this study and lays out the research design. It concludes by outlining the structure of the book.
This chapter explains why Turkey has adopted a proactive diaspora scheme since the 2000s as compared with earlier passive policies. Drawing from interviews conducted with Turkish bureaucrats, media sources and official documents, it shows that while the Turkish state’s earlier diaspora policies were driven mainly by economic incentives, Turkey’s current diaspora framework is shaped by political goals. Turkish officials have strived to improve the Turkish diaspora’s quality of life and change the negative image of Turks and Turkey abroad. Diaspora outreach policies have sought to consolidate the political power of the AKP and extend the state’s legitimacy beyond its borders. The chapter examines Turkey’s motives, discourse and concessions aimed at its diaspora in three stages: the 1960s–1970s, the 1980s–1990s and the 2000s–21. This chapter shows that Turkey’s diaspora policies are a result of an amalgamation of domestic, transnational and international factors. It suggests that domestic factors have played the most significant role in shaping Turkey’s diaspora agenda. The chapter examines the domestic dimension both as an independent factor and also in relation to transnational and international factors. The AKP’s ascent to power in 2002 has transformed the way Turkey perceives its nationals abroad and interacts with their host states and the EU.
Turkey’s selective diaspora policy displays a reversal of the official secularist bias of previous Turkish governments. Against the backdrop of Turkey’s democratic backsliding and authoritarian turn, the AKP has increasingly pitted the ‘loyal’ and the ‘dissenting’ segments of the diaspora against one another (for instance, Turks vs Kurds, the AKP vs Gülenists, Sunnis vs Alevis). The ongoing clashes the AKP government has had with the Alevi, secular, Kurdish and Gülenist diaspora groups draw a productive contrast with its robust relations with the conservative diaspora associations. The AKP’s extraterritorial surveillance and suppression aimed at dissident diasporans, particularly during and after the 2013 Gezi Park protests, the 2014 presidential elections, the 2016 failed coup and the 2017 constitutional referendum, have generated fear and resentment in the diasporic space and rendered the already heterogeneous diaspora even more disunited. Divisions within Turkey’s émigré community, and deepening tension between Ankara and the non-conformist diaspora groups, weaken Turkey’s diaspora diplomacy, generate unrest within European host states and negatively affect Turkey–EU relations. The chapter first considers Turkey’s growing authoritarian practices since 2011. It provides some historic and political background to the responses of various diaspora groups to the AKP and unravels the linkages between the democratic downturn – and the consequences thereof – for Turkey’s diaspora diplomacy. The chapter then outlines specific Alevi, secular, Kurdish and Gülenist organisations’ perceptions of and responses to Turkey’s authoritarian regime under the AKP and Erdoğan’s increasing sway over Turkey’s diasporas in Europe.
This book analyses the world of selective reproduction – the politics of who gets to legitimately reproduce the future – by a cross-cultural analysis of three modes of ‘controlling’ birth: contraception, reproductive violence, and repro-genetic technologies. The premise is that as fertility rates decline worldwide, the fervour to control fertility, and fertile bodies, does not dissipate; what evolves is the preferred mode of control. Although new technologies, for instance those that assist conception and/or allow genetic selection, may appear to be the antithesis of violent versions of population control, the book demonstrates that both are part of the same continuum. Much as all population control policies target and vilify (Black) women for their over-fertility, and coerce/induce them into subjecting their bodies to state and medical surveillance, assisted reproductive technologies and repro-genetic technologies have a similar and stratified burden of blame and responsibility based on gender, race, class, and caste. The book includes contributions from two postcolonial nations – South Africa and India – where the history of colonialism and the economics of neoliberal markets allow for some parallel moments of selecting who gets to legitimately reproduce the future. The book provides a critical interdisciplinary and cutting-edge dialogue around the interconnected issues that shape reproductive politics in an ostensibly ‘post-population control’ era. The contributions range from gender studies, sociology, medical anthropology, politics, science and technology studies, to theology, public health, epidemiology and women’s health, with the aim of facilitating an interdisciplinary dialogue around the interconnected modes of controlling birth and practices of neo-eugenics.
An ex-Trident submarine captain considers the evolution of UK nuclear deterrence policy and the implications of a previously unacknowledged, enduring aversion to military strategies that threaten civilian casualties. This book draws on extensive archival research to provide a uniquely concise synthesis of factors affecting British nuclear policy decision-making, and draws parallels between government debates about reprisals for First World War Zeppelin raids on London, the strategic bombing raids of the Second World War and the development of the nuclear deterrent to continuous at-sea deterrence, through the end of the Cold War and the announcement of the Dreadnought programme. It develops the idea that, in a supreme emergency, a breach of otherwise inviolable moral rules might be excused, but never justified, in order to prevent a greater moral catastrophe; and it explores the related ethical concept of dirty hands – when a moral actor faces a choice between two inevitable actions, mutually exclusive but both reprehensible. It concludes that, amongst all the technical factors, government aversion to be seen to condone civilian casualties has inhibited government engagement with the public on deterrence strategy since 1915 and, uniquely among nuclear weapon states, successive British governments have been coy about discussing nuclear deterrence policy publicly because they feared to expose the complexity of the moral reasoning behind the policy, a reticence exacerbated by the tendency of policy and media investigation to be reduced to simplistic soundbites.
Based on several years of ethnographic fieldwork, French London provides rare insights into the everyday lived experience of a diverse group of French citizens who have chosen to make London home. From sixth-form students to an octogenarian divorcee, hospitality to hospital staff, and second-generation onward migrants to returnees, the individual trajectories described are disparate but connected by a ‘common-unity’ of practice. Despite most not self-identifying with a ‘community’ identity, this heterogenous migrant group are shown to share many homemaking characteristics and to enact their belonging in common ways. Whether through the contents of their kitchens, their reasons for migrating to London or their evolving attitudes to education and healthcare, participants are seen to embody a distinct form of London-Frenchness. Drawing on Pierre Bourdieu’s theories of ‘symbolic violence’ and ‘habitus’, inventively deconstructed into its component parts of habitat, habituation and habits, the book reveals how structural forces in France and early encounters with ‘otherness’ underpin mobility, and how long-term settlement is performed as a pre-reflexive process. It deploys an original blended ethnographic lens to understand the intersection between the on-land and online in contemporary mobility, providing a rich description of migrants’ material and digital habitats. With ‘Brexit’ on the horizon and participants subsequently revisited in a post-referendum Epilogue, the monograph demonstrates the appeal of London prior to 2016 and the disruption to the migrants’ identity and belonging since. It offers an unprecedented window onto the intimate lifeworlds of an under-researched diaspora at a crucial point in Britain’s history.
This book mobilises an abolitionist approach to border politics, with a focus on Europe. It argues that a critique of bordering mechanisms implies challenging the detractive logics of right, according to which upholding migrants’ rights is to the detriment of citizens’ rights. It uniquely combines carceral abolitionism literature, Black abolitionism and critical migration scholarship in order to question the acceptability and desirability of borders. Drawing on W. E. B. Du Bois’ concept of ‘abolition democracy’, it argues that border abolitionism means much more than calls for abolishing borders; rather, it involves rendering borders obsolete and articulating border struggles with other struggles for social justice. The book first investigates the confinement continuum that migrants are targeted by, drawing attention to hybrid spaces of confinement and to invisible forms of exploitation in refugee camps. Building on archival research and empirical material collected at the French–Italian Alpine border, the book then illustrates that an abolitionist view entails retracing the history of past struggles and how the memory of these have shaped current solidarity movements. Border abolitionism pushes us to rethink the right to mobility beyond an individualistic framework and to conceive it as part of struggles for the commons.
The introduction engages with border abolitionism, explaining that this book does not advocate for abolishing borders as such but, rather, for dismantling the material and political conditions under which the multiplication and persistence of borders appear as a condition for people’s safety and economic prosperity. It suggests that an abolitionist approach to bordering mechanisms entails unsettling the migrant/citizen divide by highlighting interlocking modes of labour subordination and racialisation that affect both migrants and citizens.
There was protracted and serious discussion within the British War Cabinet and RAF high command about the strategic bombing campaign and its legitimacy, a discussion which continues to this day. This chapter considers the impact of concerns about public opinion on that discussion and resulting strategy; it concludes that there was a concerted effort to maximise damage to areas of German cities, including industrial and residential areas, but that the public presentation of this policy was adapted to appear to show an aspiration to employ precision bombing against industrial facilities only, which must cause unavoidable casualties amongst non-combatants. This ambivalent position, a distinct aversion to public acknowledgement of the willingness to inflict non-combatant casualties, was inherited by those responsible for the early development of British nuclear strategy.
This book is derived from thirty years of service in the Royal Navy submarine service, much of it in the nuclear deterrent mission. The research and argument described here is not the result of that experience directly, but a reaction to the inability of the Ministry of Defence and Royal Navy hierarchy to describe to me, the commanding officer of a Trident submarine, what the official rationale and justification for the nuclear deterrent is. I have always been content that I can justify the mission to myself, but never content that I could do so in terms of which the UK government would approve. The book considers concepts like ‘the public’ and ‘the media’ but does not explore them in detail except where they impinge on government thinking about the core issues, and the chapters centred on the lessons derived from the First and Second World Wars do not seek to produce a definitive version of the outcomes, simply to understand the ethical debates and pressures that were considered important at the time, and the lessons that were therefore carried forward into the nuclear deterrent strategy and policy.