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This essay discusses Pablo Neruda’s youth love poetry collection Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada (1924) in relation to situated subjectivities, from decolonial, intersectional feminist perspectives. One hundred years after the collection was published, we briefly account for Neruda’s inter- and intra-subjective exploration of love and otherness. Particular attention is given here to the poetic process as an unending dialogue between production and reception, including some current poetic and nonpoetic canceling, as well as rediscoveries of his rich eco- and geopoetic vocation.
In the past decade, the geographical and conceptual breadth of sustainability transitions has expanded, especially in Asia, Africa and Latin America. Increasing attention is paid to social, economic and environmental issues in the ‘Global South’, where decades of colonial rule have shaped infrastructures and institutions. In recent years, the literature has taken a ‘decolonial turn’, underlining the risks of reproducing colonial ways of control, power, privilege, domination, and disassociation with Nature. This chapter reviews this emerging literature, articulating why and how contexts differ between Global South and North and how sustainability transitions theories could be more meaningful in Global South contexts. The central research question is: how could we analyse and enact sustainability transitions in the Global South in a way that transcends historical challenges of colonial modernity and undesired development while pursuing just futures? The review is organised around five themes: niches, regimes, change, justice, and knowledge diversity. The chapter proposes ways to go deeper into these themes in setting a research agenda for future sustainability transitions in the Global South.
Liberal democracies often include rights of participation, guarantees of protection, and policies that privilege model citizens within a bounded territory. Notwithstanding claims of universal equality for “humanity,” they achieve these goals by epistemically elevating certain traits of identity above “others,” sustaining colonial biases that continue to favor whoever is regarded more “human.” The COVID-19 pandemic has exacerbated these fault lines, unveiling once more the often-hidden prevalence of inequalities that are based on race, gender, class, ethnicity, and other axes of power and their overlaps. Decolonial theories and practices analyze these othering tendencies and inequalities while also highlighting how sites of suffering sometimes become locations of solidarity and agency, which uncover often-erased alternatives and lessons.
This article reconsiders V.Y. Mudimbe’s contribution to “decolonial” impulses that are central to current preoccupations in fields such as postcolonial studies. It argues that key concepts developed by Mudimbe, such as the “colonial library,” have been overlooked in these discussions. Further, the article provides insight into important aspects of Mudimbe’s thought on the colonial library by reminding readers of the genealogy he excavates in describing the contours of the colonial library and its continued influence (likened by Mudimbe to a lingering odor) that is still to be dismantled.
‘Decolonization’ of research and teaching in EU law constitutes a starting point for examinations of EU law which can open up the world of European legal integration to a new generation of Black scholars and audiences, both across Europe and beyond. In this contribution I suggest what this starting point could look like – what happens when we take colonialism as the starting point for our interaction with EU law? How does a decolonial approach amend the purpose, principles and practice that inform our research and teaching in EU law today? I propose that relevant purposes include excavation, correction, dissemination and diversification. The principles that underlie this purpose include pro-democracy, intentionality and internationality while the practice of decolonizing research and teaching in EU law would focus on identifying omission, using empirical study to create new understanding of systems and working in collaboration with Black scholars.
Despite ongoing attempts to fragment and eliminate the Palestinian people, Palestinians persist on their lands and continue to uphold their right to return home. In this article, I suggest that vital to this persistence are Palestinian feelings of belonging to and longing for Palestine. Together, these constellations of feeling form what I call affective sovereignty. Through this concept, I argue that such feelings constitute a sovereign Indigenous Palestinian claim to the land. That is, a Palestinian Indigenous sovereignty is sustained, affirmed, and reproduced in part through feeling. I track forms of affective sovereignty through the practices of Palestinian graffiti and hip-hop music. I find in these aesthetic practices four interrelated themes that together express an affective sovereignty. First, I analyse expressions of belonging to the land of Palestine. Next, I turn to expressions of belonging to the Palestinian people, particularly those that express unity across the geographic fragments of Palestine. Third, I analyse expressions of longing for Palestine from the condition of exile. Finally, I explore how these feelings are drawn into more directly resistant expressions of Palestinian sovereignty, suggesting that affective sovereignty forms the molten core of Palestinian resistance.
This chapter reads Las edades de la rata (2019), a comic by Peruvian, Valencia-based Martín López Lam within a genealogy of the migrant subject. It proposes that Antonio Cornejo Polar’s ideas on migration as a phenomenon which goes back in time, both aesthetically and conceptually, are useful to think about how recent literature dealing with the contemporary migrant condition can be read as a continuation of long-lasting histories and traditions of displacement. The essay traces a connection between contemporary Latinx comics and Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala’s Nueva corónica y buen gobierno, which Cornejo Polar identifies as one of the first manifestations of this migrant aesthetic. The qilqas of Guaman Poma are thus read alongside a form of our times, the contemporary comic, a medium that is defined by its radical formal heterogeneity and multimodal construction. Ultimately, by reading López Lam’s comic within this framework, the chapter draws a relationship between the many dimensions of the migrant subject, including its Latinx iterations, and the larger processes of coloniality which have shaped the encounter of cultures in Latin America and its diasporas.
This book chronicles important formal and theoretical innovations in Latinx literature during a period when Latinx writers received increasing acclaim while their communities became targets of rising hostility. The essays in this collection show how Latinx writers confront this contradiction by cultivating an understanding of Latinx experience in its transnational dimensions, by recovering histories that were suppressed or erased, by engaging in burgeoning decolonial projects that resist Western epistemologies, and by forming coalitions and solidarities within Latinx groups as well as with other minoritized racial and ethnic communities to challenge state violence and US imperial projects. The book highlights the increasingly important role of genre, form, and media in the contemporary Latinx literature and provides an account of how the shifting demographics and new migrations of Latinx people have not only resulted in new narratives and art but also altered and expanded how we imagine the category 'Latinx.'
This article constructively examines the seeming impasse between US Catholic feminist theologies and the Roman Catholic Curia. It proposes that a possible resource for “engaging the impasse” between them can be found in the contemplative processes and practices utilized by the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (LCWR) during the doctrinal investigation of the LCWR undertaken by the (then) Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith in 2009. Using a Catholic feminist decolonial lens of analysis, the article argues that there are resonances between the LCWR’s contemplative processes and the “path of conocimiento” found in the work of Chicana theorist Gloria Anzaldúa. Both share the insight that careful listening to ourselves, “others” and the divine (albeit by different names) is one of the first steps toward building understanding between seemingly opposed entities. Together, they can serve as powerful resources for healing the divide between Catholic feminist theologies and the Roman Catholic Curia and, in so doing, offer hope to our often polarized and suffering world.
Critical stances towards English Medium Instruction (EMI), and to a lesser extent the similar use of French, Portuguese and Spanish Medium Instruction in former colonies of European states, have been growing since ‘independence’ in the 1960s. This discussion contextualises ‘Southern’ critiques of EMI within early decolonial debates, ‘southern multilingualisms’ and ‘transknowledging’ (reciprocal translation and exchange of knowledge), which are often invisibilised in EMI. This is illustrated through critiques in two former British territories: the first, with critiques that circulated in Southern Africa from the 1960s; the second, with critiques that surfaced four decades later in Australia. Whereas EMI is readily recognised in South Africa (with 8 per cent L1 English speakers), Australia (with 250 Aboriginal linguistic communities at colonisation and 250 years of in-migration from all continents) is an EMI context for 23–30 per cent of citizens. Aggressive marketing of Australia as an educational destination for students from the Asia-Pacific amplifies its multilingual and EMI reality in higher education. The critique of EMI includes a history of cognitive capture, debt-trap diplomacy and educational failure. Included are key agents that advance EMI, invisibilise multilingualisms and perpetuate coloniality despite the claims of social justice and access that accompany EMI rationales.
This paper explores what is at stake when we talk of language activism, and what normative values often underlie such discussions. Language activism can generally be understood to involve some work in, on or through language (broadly understood), to include some kind of social action (pedagogy, policy, research), and to operate towards some vision of equitable change (social justice). None of these terms, however, is uncontested. If language itself remains an unchallenged ideal, without asking more fundamental questions about whose version of language is involved, language activism may have undesirable effects; if social action remains at the level of institutional advocacy, communities may be poorly served by inappropriate support; and if social justice defines the extent of the political philosophy, language activism may be as reactionary as it is progressive. This paper makes a case for activist applied linguistics – there is little point in applied linguistics otherwise – that by necessity bases its language and politics on emergent rather than extractivist approaches to communities, and on a decolonial agenda for both language and change. A materialist decolonial approach to language activism aims towards collaborative and emergent knowledge and politics.
This chapter serves as one of two epilogues to this volume. In it, María Elena García focuses on three main themes: (1) the authors’ encounter with Indigenous Studies; (2) the importance of engaging with Native ideas of affect; and (3) the significance of thinking with haunting and ghosts as central to reimagining the history of science in the Americas. García explores the possibilities and limitations of placing Indigenous Studies next to decolonial scholarship and reflects on how or if this approach offers transformative frameworks for writing about and practising the “human sciences.” She also offers some thoughts about the place and significance of the more-than-human in this book, with a particular focus on ghosts, spirits, bones, and other entities that haunt the history of the human sciences. Finally, García takes inspiration from theorists engaging in multisensorial analysis to consider the “structures of feeling” that were both part of the extractive and colonial mode of the human sciences, and that might also emerge once we center Indigenous Studies values like radical relationality, reciprocity, and accountability in our writing, teaching, and mentorship.
The Preface outlines the origins, motivations, history, and stakes of the project that led to the publication of this book, and it discusses the project’s relationship to scholarship in Indigenous Studies and engagement of key works in that field. It explores what an approach informed by Indigenous Studies can bring to the history of the human sciences, and how it might build upon existing scholarship on this topic.
This chapter provides an overview of the importance of utopian theorizing in the twenty-first century. It resituates utopianism, through Blochean theory, as larger than a literary genre and more diverse than representations of perfect societies. Rather, it celebrates an ideal of the utopianism of the everyday, of the here-and-now as much as of the future. It argues for a utopianism that is necessarily decolonial as it seeks to undo the damage of racial capitalism and provide imaginative resources for living differently. It concludes with an overview of the chapters collected in this book, showing that they explore both reactionary or nostalgically inflected visions of America’s settler-colonial utopian foundations, as well as centering new strains of utopian thought emerging from the margins of hegemonic American culture.
To ask ‘how do you do what you do?’ is both a technical and personal question. Brandi Wilkins Cantanese, Nicola Mārie Hyland, and Ben Spatz complicate the idea that methods are separable from researchers’ lives, while advocating for decolonizing research. Methods implicate both what and when: they are immanent in everything the scholar does. Exploring methods that gather information in relational and communal ways, the conversants reflect on how using various media in performance research (re-)contextualizes methods and the binary between bodily presence and recorded acts. They conclude that interdisciplinary research should invest in decolonizing methodologies as an ethical practice that both augments and challenges academic training.
In this chapter we articulate how transformative agency via double stimulation in cultural-historical activity theory can be a form of emancipatory agency from below among those most historically excluded and marginalised. Generated in a six-year-long formative intervention focussing on African land restitution, we show that the emergence of emancipatory transformative agency involves responsive mediation in which second stimuli, suitable to arising contradictions and conflict of motives, need to be co-developed as the formative intervention process unfolds. Emancipatory transformative agency by double stimulation (ETADS) pathways involve complex and parallel forms of movement over time that are not necessarily linear. The chapter reveals that ETADS pathways emerge as communities take ethical-political ownership of co-directing the emancipatory direction of their own development in the formative intervention process. In the process they challenge deep-seated oppressions of longue durée, transform power relations, build intergenerational solidarity and make decisions that advance the common good.
Beginning with an account of how Marxism fared in two historical contexts of decolonization (South Africa and India), the chapter then focuses on one recent influential mode of Marxist literary analysis: “world-literature” – with a hyphen – as elaborated the by Warwick Research Collective. How does this approach square with the current push for decolonization? In response to that question, the chapter contrasts WReC with claims from current “decolonial theory” to illustrate differences between their presuppositions. In conclusion, the suggestion is that Marxim’s specific contribution contemporary debates on decolonization might be to question tendencies to reify concepts such as “race,” “culture” or the “West” as metaphysical categories. That contribution, in turn, is best received on the understanding that there are experiential dimensions relating to aesthetics, language, race, gender, sexuality and religion that the Marxist framework is ill-equipped to account for in a non-reductive fashion. Hence, it is perhaps the dialectical method that is the enduring lesson of Marxism – a method that may bracket and then reintroduce the Marxist optic in the unending labour of making sense of the world.
In this essay I work with Walter Mignolo and Catherine Walsh’s formulation of “pluriversal decoloniality and decolonial pluriversality”: a sense of spaciousness in investigating and engaging with all that has been inherited from modernity and coloniality. I distance myself from those understandings of decolonial practice that seek to discard and replace: for literatures, like genders and sexualities, are a palimpsest, they build on waves of what is experienced and encountered through lineages. There are deaths and memories as well as traces and continuities, and I wish that they all be folded in for the reading, teaching and writing experience to be, as bell hooks outlines, exciting and passionate – and as Mignolo insists, exceeding the “object of study.” I see Octavio Paz’s critical method of reading as decolonial and draw upon it: keeping many thinkers and poets as unruly talismans thrown together in an unruly manner, I look at paradigms of gendered/sexual signs in relation to pedagogies and research methodologies for English literature in the global south. What could be a template to read historically, critically and imaginatively across and between Western and non-Western texts with an incisive, generous, difficult passion that marks all erotic pursuit as errant and explosive, even the intellectual?
If critical thought is to contribute to liberatory struggle, it arguably requires a general, even structural, theorisation of the nature and sources of power and oppression. This appears to be at odds with the critical project of questioning the immanence of truth to power, as famously framed by Michel Foucault. Yet Foucault’s philosophical project in fact hinged upon his own attempts to grapple with this tension. What is more, his ultimate failure to resolve it led to ambiguities that might be considered generative (especially in light of increased rapprochement between Foucauldian, Marxian, and decolonial International Relations [IR]). Reading Indigenous and decolonial movement intellectuals in tandem with Foucault, alongside the philosophy of science of one of his major influences – Gaston Bachelard – we advocate attentiveness to the ‘experimental’ way in which struggles against capitalist extraction and (neo)colonialism hold together dissonant theoretical – and ontological – commitments when putting forward structural accounts of power. This leads us to an ethos of inquiry that starts from lived thought, as well as to a non-linear approach to the relations between method, theory, and associated ontological commitments, from which scholars are traditionally trained away in social science.
Geomodernism insists that we cannot theorize modernist art within a national frame, emphasizing embeddedness and interconnection over isolation. Doing so requires reckoning with how questions of race and citizenship, migration and war, empire and revolution change our assessment of the aesthetics and politics of modernism. I begin with a call for a clearer sense of the relations among geomodernisms, global modernisms, and postcoloniality to suggest that US modernist studies could subtend geomodernist emphasis on place further by harnessing the insights of ethnic and postcolonial studies more fully. The global can neither be assumed as inert fact or impossible aspiration. Drawing on Eric Walrond’s Tropic Death (1926), I argue for a more robust focus on decolonial practice, on border as method, and on the ongoing racial violence of a settler state to highlight the unresolved presence of US empire and extraction in the hemisphere alongside submerged histories of labor migration.