Pub Date : 2021-04-03DOI: 10.1080/13534645.2021.1995951
Lea Espinoza Garrido
The attacks on September 11 2001 have frequently been stylised as an unprecedented moment of national and global crisis. This ‘logic of exception’, as Evelyn Alsultany calls it, i.e., the presentation of 9/11 as ‘an exceptional moment of crisis [that] demands exceptional measures’ has not only engendered a fetishisation of ‘national victimhood’, but has also been used to justify state violence in the form of racial and religious profiling, increased surveillance, torture as well as multiple state invasions and other human rights violations. In short, it has produced what Giorgio Agamben refers to as a ‘state of exception’. Ironically, as Agamben claims, a state of exception constitutes a ‘space devoid of law [which] seems, for some reason, to be so essential to the juridical order that it must seek in every way to assure itself a relation with it’. In the United States, post-9/11 legislation has often invoked notions of American exceptionalism and an alleged patriotic duty to defend ‘the homeland’ in order to assume such an air of lawfulness. In fact, however, Agamben rightly maintains that the measures covered by the USA Patriot Act (passed in late October 2001) and President Bush’s ‘military order’ (issued in November 2001) have ‘radically erase[d] any legal status of the individual’. Although Agamben largely ignores race and racialisation as decisive factors in his discussion of the post-9/11 state of exception, it is particularly the suspension of Arab and Muslim civil and human rights that was facilitated by the disenfranchising legislation and its political, social and physical repercussions.
{"title":"Porous Borders, Porous Bodies – Citizenship, Gender and States of Exception in Laila Halaby’s Once in a Promised Land","authors":"Lea Espinoza Garrido","doi":"10.1080/13534645.2021.1995951","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/13534645.2021.1995951","url":null,"abstract":"The attacks on September 11 2001 have frequently been stylised as an unprecedented moment of national and global crisis. This ‘logic of exception’, as Evelyn Alsultany calls it, i.e., the presentation of 9/11 as ‘an exceptional moment of crisis [that] demands exceptional measures’ has not only engendered a fetishisation of ‘national victimhood’, but has also been used to justify state violence in the form of racial and religious profiling, increased surveillance, torture as well as multiple state invasions and other human rights violations. In short, it has produced what Giorgio Agamben refers to as a ‘state of exception’. Ironically, as Agamben claims, a state of exception constitutes a ‘space devoid of law [which] seems, for some reason, to be so essential to the juridical order that it must seek in every way to assure itself a relation with it’. In the United States, post-9/11 legislation has often invoked notions of American exceptionalism and an alleged patriotic duty to defend ‘the homeland’ in order to assume such an air of lawfulness. In fact, however, Agamben rightly maintains that the measures covered by the USA Patriot Act (passed in late October 2001) and President Bush’s ‘military order’ (issued in November 2001) have ‘radically erase[d] any legal status of the individual’. Although Agamben largely ignores race and racialisation as decisive factors in his discussion of the post-9/11 state of exception, it is particularly the suspension of Arab and Muslim civil and human rights that was facilitated by the disenfranchising legislation and its political, social and physical repercussions.","PeriodicalId":46204,"journal":{"name":"Parallax","volume":"27 1","pages":"176 - 197"},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2021-04-03","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"46045853","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"社会学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-04-03DOI: 10.1080/13534645.2021.1995949
B. Spengler, Lea Espinoza Garrido, S. Mieszkowski, Julia Wewior
Migrant states of exception proliferate around the world – as do walls and border fortifications in an ostensibly globalised world. In fact, as Thomas Nail prophesies, the twenty-first century may well become ‘the century of the migrant’. At the end of its first decade, as announced by the UN, numbers levelled off at one billion internal and international migrants, displaced persons, refugees and asylum seekers. Ten years later, the UN Migration Report estimates that there were 272 million international migrants, an increase of c. fifty million in just one decade (c. 220 million in 2010). This means that one in every thirty people around the world is an international migrant. Internal migration, too, has increased and is likely to grow further in the future, due to the effects of globalisation, war and climate change: In the decade between 2009 and 2019, seventy-nine million new internal displacements occurred, while only thirty-one million people were able to return to their places of residence. And while the observation that we are ‘all becoming migrants’ or ‘wanderers’ runs the risk of obscuring the very disparate ways and conditions that shape contemporary forms of mobility, there is no doubt that movement constitutes one of the defining features of our epoch, at least prior to the current global Covid-19 pandemic. It is precisely because different forms of movement and mobility define the present moment to an unprecedented degree and on an unprecedented scale that questions such as ‘who moves?’, ‘why?’, ‘where to?’, ‘when?’, ‘how?’ and ‘who can afford to stop moving when movement becomes a health hazard?’ are of central concern.
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Pub Date : 2021-01-02DOI: 10.1080/13534645.2021.1976459
Ellie Byrne
We’re all positioned by the wake but positioned differently. For me it’s an analytic, a way to think about how the semiotics of the slave ship— the hold, the weather— continue to position Black people globally in certain kinds of precarity [... ] the wake of those ships— and the wake of the ships crossing the Mediterranean today, for people in crisis, blocked from safe port— is a way to think about continued precarity and violence, and where you’re positioned in relation to it. Christina Sharpe, ‘What Does It Mean to Be Black and Look at This?’.
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Pub Date : 2021-01-02DOI: 10.1080/13534645.2021.1976464
Philip Leonard
Early in 2020, when COVID-19 was becoming regarded as a virus that could not be contained by countries or within regions of the planet, Giorgio Agamben offered some provocative claims about the nature of the pandemic that it produced. Whereas many analysts and observers swiftly arrived at something like a consensus – that the virus demanded intensified population control and heightened state authority in many of the world’s nations – Agamben’s strikingly different conclusion was that ‘frenetic, irrational and entirely unfounded emergency measures’ were being introduced, with a ‘state of panic’ manufactured by the media and state institutions. This ‘disproportionate’ response, he proposed, needs to be seen as another manifestation of the exceptionality that is essential to governmental rationality. Rather than a health emergency that justifies the suspension of social norms and the urgent introduction of extraordinary forms of regulation, the COVID-19 pandemic instead allowed states once again to step outside of established political and juridical order and introduce new legislative measures to preserve their professed sovereign right to rule. As he continued to write about the virus in the early months of 2020, Agamben sought to correct what he saw as misreadings and distortions of his claim that coronavirus was being instrumentalised by the agents of political power. What persists in these interventions, however, is an incredulity towards the abandoning of ethical and political principles that followed the spread of the virus. The question on which he ‘has never stopped reflecting’ is ‘How can it happen that an entire country, without noticing it, politically and ethically collapsed in the face of an illness?’.
{"title":"Sacred Shores?","authors":"Philip Leonard","doi":"10.1080/13534645.2021.1976464","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1080/13534645.2021.1976464","url":null,"abstract":"Early in 2020, when COVID-19 was becoming regarded as a virus that could not be contained by countries or within regions of the planet, Giorgio Agamben offered some provocative claims about the nature of the pandemic that it produced. Whereas many analysts and observers swiftly arrived at something like a consensus – that the virus demanded intensified population control and heightened state authority in many of the world’s nations – Agamben’s strikingly different conclusion was that ‘frenetic, irrational and entirely unfounded emergency measures’ were being introduced, with a ‘state of panic’ manufactured by the media and state institutions. This ‘disproportionate’ response, he proposed, needs to be seen as another manifestation of the exceptionality that is essential to governmental rationality. Rather than a health emergency that justifies the suspension of social norms and the urgent introduction of extraordinary forms of regulation, the COVID-19 pandemic instead allowed states once again to step outside of established political and juridical order and introduce new legislative measures to preserve their professed sovereign right to rule. As he continued to write about the virus in the early months of 2020, Agamben sought to correct what he saw as misreadings and distortions of his claim that coronavirus was being instrumentalised by the agents of political power. What persists in these interventions, however, is an incredulity towards the abandoning of ethical and political principles that followed the spread of the virus. The question on which he ‘has never stopped reflecting’ is ‘How can it happen that an entire country, without noticing it, politically and ethically collapsed in the face of an illness?’.","PeriodicalId":46204,"journal":{"name":"Parallax","volume":"27 1","pages":"63 - 78"},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2021-01-02","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"41891302","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"社会学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2021-01-02DOI: 10.1080/13534645.2021.1976461
Martin Crowley
The horizon of this essay could be described as the possibility or otherwise of militant, partisan mobilisation on the basis of an egalitarian commitment extended beyond the form of life we call human. So, let’s start with two slogans. First: ‘We are not defending nature: we are nature defending itself!’ From Paris in 2015 and Brussels in 2016, to the French ZADists and Greta Thunberg’s school strikes, the human activists making this claim are rejecting the hierarchy implied even by the role of guardian and identifying themselves as acting, not on behalf of, but from within a broad ecological continuum. The wager of this identification is well captured in my second slogan, particularly popular during the school strikes: ‘Like the sea level we rise!’ The wager is here compressed into the space of that simile: what would it mean to model protest on the planet’s rising sea levels? Rhetorically, this is so much metaphorical semantic slippage, condensing a purely statistical increase and political insurrection; its identification is also in a way incoherent, inasmuch as the second term – ‘our’ uprising – is effectively opposing the first – rising sea levels – or at least, opposing its causes and hoping thereby to bring it to an end. But are these slogans incoherent in a more fundamental way? Can human climate militants meaningfully claim to be acting like, with, or as, a continuum of non-human and human beings?
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Pub Date : 2021-01-02DOI: 10.1080/13534645.2021.1976462
Diletta De Cristofaro
Scenario one, from The Marrow Thieves (2017) by Cherie Dimaline (M etis): in a post-apocalyptic North America ravaged by climate breakdown, where ‘all the industry-plundered Great Lakes [are] poison’, Indigenous people find themselves trapped, once again, in a residential school system. This time, the residential schools are ‘harvesting’ Indigenous people for their ability to dream, in order to treat the epidemic of dreamlessness that is killing the white population. Scenario two, from Matthew Sharpe’s Jamestown (2007): following environmental devastation that has reduced the United States to embattled city-states, white men belonging to the Manhattan Company venture into the Indian territory of Virginia to trade for resources and found the colony of Jamestown, a name oddly reminiscent of the first permanent English settlement in North America. Scenario three, from ‘When This World is All on Fire’ (2001) by William Sanders (Cherokee): American coastal areas are under water, the inland territories are reduced to a desert, and Cherokee people’s sovereignty over reservation land is constantly threatened by white squatters from the rest of the United States. As a character wryly puts it, ‘Twenty-first century, better than five hundred years after Columbus, and here we are again with white people trying to settle on our land’. Dimaline’s, Sharpe’s, and Sanders’s scenarios belong to a strand of contemporary Anglophone post-apocalyptic fiction that confronts the prospect of climate breakdown defining our Anthropocene present through patterns of repetition linking these fictions’ environmentally devasted futures to the colonial past. Through these patterns, the narratives in question suggest that the colonial past is, in fact, no past at all, but something actively shaping our present and future. These post-apocalyptic scenarios bring to the fore global networks of (neo)colonialism and capitalism that lie at the heart of the Anthropocene, highlighting the legacies of a long history of imperialist practices of exploitation in the environmental risks of today’s globalised world.
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Pub Date : 2021-01-02DOI: 10.1080/13534645.2021.1976463
A. Keeble, J. Annesley
In Salman Rushdie’s Shalimar the Clown (2005), published during the early years of the War on Terror, one character describes the acceleration of globalisation: ‘[e]verywhere was now a part of everywhere else [... ] Our lives, our stories, flowed into one another’s, were no longer our own, individual, discreet. This unsettled people. There were collisions and explosions’. In subsequent years such explosions, in the form of violent terrorist attacks perpetrated by white nationalist, Christian fundamentalist, Jihadi and other ideologically driven extremist groups aggrieved by various aspects of these ‘flows’ and intersections, have proliferated. The visibility and spectacle of the 7/7 attacks in London in 2005, Oslo/Utoya Island in 2011, Manchester in 2018, El Paso in 2019, and the multiple attacks in Paris over the last decade, has not meant that such incidents are any more regular than those perpetrated by, for example, ETA, the IRA or the Baader-Meinhof group in the late twentieth century. They are, however, differentiated by their association with globalisation, multiculturalism and, more recently, the global migrant crisis. Though the connection is often tenuous, it retains currency in electoral politics, and particularly in the current post-2016 culture wars.
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Pub Date : 2021-01-02DOI: 10.1080/13534645.2021.1976460
L. Connell
Since the financial crisis of 2007-2008 it has been commonplace to argue that globalisation is in retreat. The period following the Cold War saw decades of international integration of the world economy, represented by streamlined trade logistics, a growing financial and immaterial economy and the formation of trading blocs tailored to ease the free movement of goods, services and, in the right circumstances, of people. However, in the last decade, these twentieth-century verities have come under increasing tension. During a long period of economic stagnation, successive populist governments have turned to nationalist rhetoric in order to justify protectionist solutions to the problems of stalled growth. Alongside the noise of tariffs and trading wars the most visible signal of this development has been a substantial rhetorical investment in the power of the securitised border to cure the political ills of the nation state. This rhetoric is not wholly empty and has been accompanied by a new fashion for border fortification, which has involved substantial investment in physical barriers and technological securitisation of the national frontier. Nevertheless, this trend for building walls should not disguise the fact that the vocal advocacy of border fortification has been far more conspicuous than the construction of physical barriers. A clear illustration of this can be found in the case of the United States, where Donald Trump made the building of a wall the touchstone policy of his presidency and the enduring issue of his campaign for re-election. Notwithstanding the fact that border fortification has been a part of US politics since the Clinton administration, the promise to build a wall along the border with Mexico was the defining policy of the 2016 and 2020 Republican candidate. After his election in 2016, the President continued to campaign and to berate Congress for funds to support this construction. However, as of September 2019 it was reported that only a ‘total of 57 miles of replacement barrier and nine miles of new secondary barrier have been constructed,’ and ‘no “new wall” [... ] has yet been completed’. This lack of progress was in stark contrast to the continued rhetorical salience of ‘the Wall’ to the President’s mode of governing.
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Pub Date : 2021-01-01DOI: 10.5040/9781350238305.ch-3
Markus Gabriel
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Pub Date : 2021-01-01DOI: 10.5040/9781350238305.ch-10
N. Power
{"title":"Is Sex a Transcendental Category of Parallax?","authors":"N. Power","doi":"10.5040/9781350238305.ch-10","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5040/9781350238305.ch-10","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":46204,"journal":{"name":"Parallax","volume":"25 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2021-01-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"70507482","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"社会学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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