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1. In this story, the researcher deals with expectations and preconceptions about what will be happening during her data-gathering. How can preconceptions stop us from really listening to stories? 2. Storytelling is not only about the stories being told. How can ‘doing things together’ be a form of conversation or storytelling? 3. In what way would you say the storyteller has changed her expectations towards storytelling, after her meeting with the old lady?
This study addresses the mental health needs of refugees and migrants in the Netherlands, highlighting the urgent public health challenges they face. Unique psychosocial hurdles, exacerbated by cultural dislocation, language barriers and systemic inequalities, hinder their access to quality mental healthcare. This study explores how coloniality intersects with mental healthcare access, using a decolonial framework to challenge stereotypes and assumptions that marginalize migrant voices. Through semi-structured interviews with migrants and language service providers, this research reveals the complexities of navigating the mental healthcare system. Findings reveal that temporality, professionalism and language barriers are key issues in migrants’ mental healthcare journeys. We advocate for systemic changes that prioritize migrant perspectives. Ultimately, this study aims to inform policy and practice to enhance mental health services for migrant populations in the Netherlands and contribute to the broader dialogue on decolonization in mental health.
Appeals to “decolonize” now range widely, from decolonizing the university to decolonizing Russia. This article poses the question of what work the concept of decolonization can and cannot do. It underscores how much can be learned about how decolonization came about if one explores the different goals that activists sought in their time. It suggests that if instead of looking for a colonial “legacy,” we explore historical trajectories of colonization and decolonization, we can reveal how political, economic, and social structures in both ex-colonies and ex-metropoles were shaped and reshaped over time. Finally, it brings into conversation with the literature on the decolonization of the empires of Western European states more recent scholarship on Russia and the Soviet Union, pointing to different forms of imperial rule and imperial collapse and also to the possibility of “reimperialization,” of reconstituting empire in new contexts.
Can a reading of romantic conflict as social realism in the United States and Mexico help recenter proto-Latinxs in the history of decolonial thought? In this chapter, I turn to María Ruiz de Burton’s The Squatter and the Don (1885) and Manuel Altamirano’s El Zarco (1900) to investigate how each turned to social realism to make sense of their respective country’s transition from the colonial to the independent eras. In doing so, I argue two main things. First, that these authors turn to sentimentality as a vehicle for political critique, given how a deeper understanding of the romantic conflict yields a deeper sensitivity to the lived realities of marginalized subjects. Second, that, by making the romantic conflict a racialized one, the inevitable resolution of the romantic conflict in either novel necessarily also produces proto-Latinx models for how to leave problematic expressions of white supremacy behind. By thus engaging with the romantic and realist elements of each of these novels at once, I gesture toward a repositioning of the Latinx nineteenth century as a key moment in history for decolonial thought.
This essay makes the case that law in most of Africa has, since colonial times, been used as a framework of domination and imperialism. This has always been through repugnancy/supremacy clauses, which were predicated on the highly problematic assumption that European ways of knowing were superior to the African ones. This essay also demonstrates that, sadly, these clauses are still on the statute books of many African countries and continue to haunt the protection through law of Africa’s precious and unique tangible and intangible cultural heritage. The essay also shows that another way through whichthe development of African heritage was arrested through law was by criminalizing traditional Indigenous practices, which European imperial powers did not fully understand in terms of ontology. It is also argued that the same problems bedeviling the legal protection of African cultural heritage at the domestic level haunt this protection, even at the regional level(s). African regional courts continue to sadly apply alien notions of law to the exclusion of majority Africans. International law, being state-centric, has not been applied in the African context to revolutionarily protect African heritage. Where it has done so, it has been failed by the states or has been generally limited by its problematic colonial foundations. Finally, it is agued that African states need to de-elitesize, de-Westernize and decolonize the law if it is to effectively protect cultural heritage and property and make meaning to the ordinary African. This is urgent and imperative from a cultural, security and geopolitical vantagepoint.
This paper examines the fissures within recent decolonial debates, arguing for the privileging of alternative narratives from formerly colonized groups and a shift away from centring colonialism. It calls for the recognition of decolonial struggles whose histories run deep and the need to link the struggles with indigeneity, its poetics of relations, and connectedness. Therefore, decoloniality requires thinking and doing and paying attention to social and economic well-being of hitherto marginalized indigenous communities, while giving due recognition to their poetics of relationality, reciprocity, and conviviality. Drawing on the example of #RhodesMust Fall movement in South Africa, it raises difficult questions around ownership, agency, while pointing to cracks that this contemporary movement surfaced, in spite of its claim to decoloniality.
Chapter 4 continues the previous chapter’s translational approach to the performing body, exploring the potential and limitations of what Walter Mignolo terms the “decolonial gesture” through three award-winning Argentinian productions. Building upon contemporary theories of coloniality, the chapter examines the performers’ and their audience’s linked participation as site for considering how the translational might effectively engage onstage with the “other.” In Timbre 4’s Dínamo (Dynamo), the decolonial gesture is initiated in a performer’s own dramaturgy of nontranslation, which not only impedes linguistic communication but also triggers audience critical self-awareness. In Guillermo Cacace’s production of Mi hijo sólo camina un poco más lento (My Son Only Walks a Bit Slower), a Spanish-language production of a Croatian play, the decolonial gesture resides in the director’s translational reconfiguration of actor-spectator empathy and seemingly contradictory approaches to casting disability. In the chapter’s final case, Sudado (Sweaty/Stew), a collectively devised production, decolonial gesturality is complicated at multiple translational levels through the translocation of the Peruvian immigrant to the Buenos Aires stage. The chapter argues that theatre can offer opportunities for decolonization, but only if they emerge from within theatre’s assembled collective, which translationally determines the creation, construction, communication, and reception of the decolonial gesture.
This article critically examines the major shortcomings in multi-country security investments in East Africa during the war on terror. It argues that these investments have not only failed to adequately recognise African contexts but also falls short of recognising the agency of local communities in counterterrorism efforts. Drawing on critical terrorism and security studies, as well as excerpts from interviews with practitioners in Kenya, the article identifies gaps in the prevailing approach that treats Africa as a unitary entity and critiques the notion of universality of knowledge ingrained in these interventions. By taking a decolonial perspective, the article challenges some prevailing constructions about Africa, linked to the war on terror, as the source of this notion of universality of knowledge. By highlighting the connection of counterterrorism strategies to coloniality and the systemic exclusion of subaltern voices, the discussion suggests that a more contextually informed approach is a precursor to envisioning Africa positioned beyond the war on terror.
Based freely on the writings of Hoseyn Qoli Khān Nuri, Persia's first ambassador to the United States (1888–1889), Haji Washington (1982) was Ali Hatami's first feature film following the Islamic Revolution. This article explores Hatami's departure from historical record in light of his aesthetic and political appropriation of Nuri's image as a failure. Viewing the film through a methodology that recasts failure as decolonial praxis beyond post/colonial mastery, I argue that Haji's embrace of failure, and his ultimate adoption of relationality as a mode of worldliness, constitute a “decolonial aesthetics of failure” with broad implications for both the world of the narrative and the moment of the film's production in postrevolutionary Iran.
The Introduction outlines the theoretical framework, starting with a review of the existing literature on musical modernism, global musicology and related theories, including discussions of universalism, methodological nationalism, the centre versus periphery paradigm, multiple modernities, hybridity and postcolonial and decolonising approaches. It further introduces the interdisciplinary concept of ‘entangled histories’, which is illustrated with three short cases studies: the Orchesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos (OEIN) from Bolivia, the Bow Project from South Africa and Uwalmassa, a trio creating ‘deconstructed gamelan music’ from Jakarta, Indonesia. What unites these cases is that they are rooted in local traditions, rather than on the adoption or imposition of Western practices, although they undoubtedly respond creatively to Western ideas.
The chapter reviews approaches to decoloniality and critical evaluations of the relaunch of the civic university idea in the twenty-first century, and the risks of commodifying diversity and community links and objectifying communities in pursuit of a neoliberal agenda. In 2010 the Multilingual Manchester (MLM) project was launched as a model of non-linear, reciprocal partnership combining teaching, research and public engagement. It set up multiple partnerships with local service providers and community groups, a student volunteer scheme, digital resources and a policy engagement strand and created public spaces to engage with the city’s multilingualism. Ironically it was the crystalisation of a neoliberal university agenda that gave the initiative momentum: MLM was seen as a useful tool to market degree programmes by offering a unique student experience and employability prospects, a way to maximise impact (in 2014 and 2021 more than half of the relevant unit of assessment’s impact submissions were linked to MLM) and to demonstrate connections with the locality.
The Brexit debate has been accompanied by a rise in hostile attitudes to multilingualism. However, cities can provide an important counter-weight to political polarisation by forging civic identities that embrace diversity. In this timely book, Yaron Matras describes the emergence of a city language narrative that embraces and celebrates multilingualism and helps forge a civic identity. He critiques linguaphobic discourses at a national level that regard multilingualism as deficient citizenship. Drawing on his research in Manchester, he examines the 'multilingual utopia', looking at multilingual spaces across sectors in the city that support access, heritage, skills and celebration. The book explores the tensions between decolonial approaches that inspire activism for social justice and equality, and the neoliberal enterprise that appropriates diversity for reputational and profitability purposes, prompting critical reflection on calls for civic university engagement. It is essential reading for anyone concerned about ways to protect cultural pluralism in our society.
In the first study of the global dimensions of musical modernism, Björn Heile proposes a novel theory according to which musical modernism is constituted by a global diasporic network of composers, musicians and institutions. In a series of historical and analytical case studies from different parts of the world, this book overcomes the respective limitations of both Eurocentric and postcolonial, revisionist accounts, focusing instead on the transnational entanglements between the West and other world regions. Key topics include migration, the transnational reception and transfer of musical works and ideas, institutions such as the International Society for Contemporary Music (ISCM) and composers who are rarely discussed in Western academia, such as the Nigerian-born Akin Euba and the Korean-German Younghi Pagh-Paan. Influenced by the interdisciplinary notion of 'entangled histories', Heile critiques established dichotomies, all the while highlighting the unequal power relations on which the existing global order is founded.
We propose researchers of environmental violence have much to gain by considering the relevance of degrowth critiques in characterizing and addressing environmental violence. We argue a more dynamic, intersectional, and less anthropocentric definition of environmental violence reveals how pervasive forms of violence against the biosphere are still embedded in many contemporary strategies for sustainability. Recognizing these limits as well as their overlaps with degrowth can help us better identify assumptions and practices that address environmental violence’s sources and far-reaching consequences.
This chapter brings together key concepts from decolonial, feminist, and liberation-focussed psychologies to advocate for the role of community arts in the pursuit of epistemic justice and liberatory community empowerment. The chapter focuses on three areas of praxis that are evident in community-oriented psychology’s engagement with calls for decolonizing science: archival retrieval, relational knowledge practices, and storytelling and counter-storytelling. These areas are further illustrated via two case examples from Australia that detail how people who are marginalized and racialized form communities to address structural and symbolic violence while also strengthening practices and capacities for re-existence. The cases show how, through forming intentional settings and mobilizing cultural practice, practices of cultural remembering and reauthoring of stories can contribute to decoloniality and epistemic justice. These cases also highlight that marginalized and racialized communities can create home places of healing, connection, and memory. These relational practices of accompaniment require ongoing critical reflexivity and deliberate deep rethinking as well as equitable access to material and symbolic resources to engage in decolonial and antiracist work.
The traditional drafting and subsequent implementation of international refugee law have been criticised for relying on a male-centric understanding of persecution. Whilst this framework has recently shifted to include a more gender-sensitive interpretation, I argue that this introduction of gender within refugee status determination has traditionally relied on narratives infused with gendered and racialised stereotypes. In particular, it relies on a ‘white saviour’ colonial narrative that perceives refugee women as vulnerable victims in need of saving. Drawing on a decolonial and critical epistemological analysis that includes both a race and gender dimension, I unpack the epistemic violence and hidden colonial legacies in the representation of refugee women in case-law. Ultimately, this article concludes with a call for reframing the legal narrative around refugee women by approaching them as political actors rather than oppressed and vulnerable subjects.
Managerial justice continues apace with the recent Independent Expert Review of 2020. Yet such an exercise – managerial in its assumptions, diagnoses, and techniques – sounds a familiar tune once we observe the court’s managerial present and its macro, micro, and meso scales of managerial governance. This concluding chapter therefore asks how this institutional terrain, saturated with management thought and practices, might be navigated by those concerned about its relationship to global justice efforts. Rather than posing a series of policy prescriptions, this chapter instead suggests a professional posture or strategy of discomfort that experts and others might assume in resisting managerial justice. Drawing on Vergès’s strategy of rupture, Weber’s ethic of responsibility, and the decolonial movement, a strategy of discomfort resists the urge to look for solutions in either the complete removal or partial renovation of management. Rather, it proposes that experts admit to their politics, experience the force of such managerial politics as violence, and experience the responsibility of justice-seeking beyond efficiency savings and the strategic plan.
Here, the book pauses for a brief interlude. Throughout the book I have made the case that ableist practice of reading bodies for meaning is a reflex of coloniality as well as of classicism. But the narrativizing of blindness as a kind of special knowledge and as a kind of ignorance (explored in the previous chapter) is so frequent in colonial writing as to have been adopted (and explicitly subverted) in anti-colonial and decolonial writing. And here we pause to examine some examples of this, including in the plays of Edgar Nkosi White, Ola Rotimi (and Otun Rasheed), Rita Dove, Danai Gurira and Katori Hall. This leads to a discussion of empire’s specific visuality, drawing on the human zoo and the colonial gaze it shared with the European imperialism and the imperial theatre. The chapter concludes with further investigation of the problem of time (which recurs throughout the book), drawing in more detail on some of Deleuze’s formulations of temporality.
This article critically engages with the discipline of African musics in the academy. It examines the process of curriculum transformation of the African music section at the South African College of Music, University of Cape Town since 2005 as an emergent curriculum model for an integrated approach to the teaching of African musics at universities. The adoption of this curriculum predated the 2015–2016 fervent calls in South Africa to decolonise the university, which necessitates an approach to teaching African musics not rooted in its colonial past. As is known, the study and research of African musics in the academy partly stemmed from the efforts of European (and later US) researchers who often received support through the British colonial administration and much of their output seemed to be focused on convincing their peers about the virtues of ‘African music’ and the study thereof. Despite this history, there is evidence to support the fact that in most African universities, the music departments are far more interested in teaching Western art music and its virtues. In recognition of the calls by students for radical changes to the curricula in South African universities, the article seeks to answer the question ‘how do we consider ongoing changes to the knowledge both received and produced in this field?’
The comparative analysis of three “contested truths” around COVID-19 in East Africa demonstrates that knowledge is a product of knotted, uneven, and disputed epistemological practices tied to structures of power. Lee, Meek, and Katumusiime examine: (1) the construction of a pan-African skepticism of COVID-19 that drew on anti-imperialist discourses; (2) social media posts through which Tanzanian digital publics critically evaluated steam inhalation as an alternative therapeutic for COVID-19; and (3) the resistance by many Ugandans to complying with public health measures such as lockdowns. “Contested truths” is used as an analytical framework to center the specificity and situatedness of truth-making in East Africa during the COVID-19 pandemic.