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Chapter 4 widens the view on those interested in controlling Kenya’s colonial-era documents at the time leading up to and directly following political independence to include British and US-American academics and the formation of area studies. It historicizes the formation of archival collections in Nairobi, Oxford, Syracuse, and London as the result of entangled interests held by Oxford and Syracuse Universities, the British colonial government in Kenya, the Department of Technical Co-operation, and the Colonial Office, namely, its Intelligence and Security Department. By claiming colonial-era documentation as archival rather than as a political record with current relevance for incoming African ministers, these institutions scrambled to collate and control colonial-era documents for different purposes but all through the exclusion of African partners.
Chapter 7 frames Kenyan attempts of archival retrieval as a matter of decolonization at the international, bilateral, and national levels. Importantly, it also draws attention to how the concealment of the “migrated archives” affected political activity not only within Kenya but also in England, as a country undergoing its own re-nationalization process at the end of empire. The process of recovering records from the UK provided the Kenyan Government a framework in which to invoke a sovereign and unified Kenyan polity as the rightful home for the “migrated archives,” while dissent over Kenyatta’s centralized authority grew within the country. Meanwhile, British engagement with the “migrated archives” throughout the 1970s and 1980s resulted in the consolidation of postcolonial archival secrecy with other European partners as evident in the voting blocs formed in the 1983 Vienna Convention on the Succession of States in Respect of State Property, Archives and Debts.
The negotiated South African revolution of the 1990s inaugurated a marked shift toward strong constitutionalism: the post-apartheid Constitution comprised an extensive Bill of Rights, including substantial socioeconomic rights and constitutional duties for far-reaching redistributive measures, and established an independent judiciary under the auspices of a new constitutional (rather than, as before, parliamentary) supremacy. This way, South Africa quickly turned into a paradigmatic case of “juristocracy” (Hirschl 2004) and became imbued with an iconic indexicality for the enormous hopes for transformative justice that came to be vested in the law during the post-cold war era. Based on this progressive Constitution, the government immediately embarked upon a massive land reform in order to address persisting racial inequalities regarding access to and control of the land. Aiming at “putting land rights in the right hands under the rule of law,” as the former minister for Agriculture and Land Affairs put it in 2007 in contradistinction to ongoing extralegal land occupations in neighboring Zimbabwe, South African land reform exemplified a profound belief in “transformative constitutionalism” that was advocated as the solution to many of South Africa’s pressing political concerns. However, growing criticisms of the limited impact and slow pace of South African juristocracy in general and of law-based land reform in particular have substantially altered public discourse over the past decade, revealing a more complex and ambiguous dialectics of reckoning to be at play. Transformative constitutionalism is increasingly also portrayed as being part of the problem – or at least as suffering from “a dis/empowerment paradox” (Mnisi Weeks 2022) – that needs to be overcome in order to finally transform South Africa, which remains one of the most unequal societies in the world, in substantive and meaningful ways. This contested development is paradigmatically exemplified in the recent constitutional amendment process, designed to allow for “expropriation without compensation” in order to fast-track South African land reform, as its advocates claim. This chapter charts the contested terrain of this complex dialectic of juristocratic reckoning in order to evaluate the potentials and pitfalls of a continued project of transformative constitutionalism that increasingly has to operate in an era in which South Africa’s moment of iconic indexicality seems to be passing.
This Element supports Gwich'in, Iñupiat, and all Alaska Natives' collective continuance and reparative justice from the perspective of a settler in the traditional territories of lower Tanana Dene Peoples. It stands with Alaska Natives' recovering and safe-keeping: kinships obstructed by settler-colonialism; ontologies and languages inseparable from land-relations and incommensurable with English-language perspectives; and epistemologies not beholden to any colonialist standard. These rights and responsibilities clash with Leopoldian conservation narratives still shaping mind-sets and institutions that eliminate Indigenous Peoples by telling bad history and by presuming entitlements to lands and norm-making authority. It models an interlocking method and methodology – surfacing white supremacist settler-colonialist assumptions and structures of Leopoldian conservation narratives – that may be adapted to critique other problematic legacies. It offers a pra xis of anti-colonialist, anti-racist, liberatory environmental-narrative critical-assessment centering Indigenous experts and values, including consent, diplomacy, and intergenerational respect needed for stable coalitions-making for climate and environmental justice.
Chapter 3 covers the period from 1962 to 1968, as it argues how in those years a subtle, but lasting shift took place in Dutch society and government with regards to the Convention.
First, the chapter sets out how the emergence of a new memory culture and the so-called ‘depillarization’ of society opened a window of opportunity emerged for a new kind of activism, which increasingly turned to the language of human rights. This new activism intersected with decolonization, and its impact on governmental policy. Moreover, as Suriname and the Antilles became part of the active protection of human rights, the Convention was turned from a document built to preserve conservative European ideals into a document based on the need to protect individual human rights claims.
Second, this chapter argues that the crucial catalyst in this development was the interstate complaint procedure of 1967 against Greece. Brought forth by the new kind of activism which had emerged in these years, the complaint not only forced the Dutch government to make a distinct choice as to what the Convention entailed, but also served as ‘boomerang’ to galvanize human rights activism as such.
In 1959 and 1960, Cameroonian women nationalists visited the People’s Republic of China. These members of the Union démocratique des femmes camerounaises (UDEFEC) practiced what I term a “diplomacy of intimacy,” which highlighted the effects of colonialism on their bodies, fertility, and intimate relationships to create a shared affective experience of anticolonial solidarity with their Chinese counterparts. Expanding the definition of “diplomat” to reflect how diplomacy functioned in the decolonizing world reveals that women played a much larger role than previously understood. These women diplomats remained largely invisible to the Western powers and to the postcolonial Cameroonian government, but Chinese sources provide a valuable vantage point on their diplomacy. By drawing on sources from Cameroon, China, France, and the UK, I demonstrate that during decolonization African nationalist women represented their parties on the world stage, exercising far more diplomatic power than appears in histories of decolonization focused on the West.
The article analyses archival materials from the drafting of the UN Marriage Convention (1962) between 1949 and 1962. This Convention is usually understood as a human- and women’s rights Convention. The article expands this understanding by showing that the Convention was produced through a collaboration between the UN Commission on the Status of Women, and the Trusteeship Council, Committee on Information from Non-Self-Governing Territories, and metropolitan administrators of former colonies, then having the status of dependent territories. The treaty-makers focused exclusively on marriages in the dependencies but were in great doubt about the form and amount of force in these marriages. They, accordingly, were unsure how to measure such force. Nevertheless, they proceeded with the drafting, as their visions of free marriage and emancipated women were bolstered by their commitment to the ongoing economic transformation accompanying decolonization of the territories. The article shows how human rights of marriage thus emerged from ideas about economic development convoluted with ideas about marriages and women; and articulates this history’s theoretical implications for the rights’ applicability today. It also expands our understanding of international women’s rights as regulatory models, and of the post-colonial political economy of international law.
A change frequently encounters opposition from analytical minds prior to being embraced. This paper discusses the complex biological, psychological and social causes of criminal tendencies and their neurological triggers. The endocrine system, notably cortisol, changes behaviour and cognitive functions, which might lead to criminal tendencies when exposed to prolonged stress and adverse socio-economic conditions. The paper discusses the legal framework under Section 84 of the Indian Penal Code, presently Section 22 of the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita, 2023 (BNS). The authors contend that Indian criminal law failed to decolonize when the BNS preserved the same idea of “unsoundness of mind” without much alteration. The study examines issues in defining “unsoundness of mind” and how the accused bears the burden of proof. The authors also support diminished responsibility as a legal defence in accordance with international precedents and emphasize that legislative adjustments must embrace scientific developments. The article emphasizes rehabilitation and community-based therapy over punishment, citing the Mental Health Care Act, 2017, for neurologically impaired offenders. It suggests cognitive–behavioural therapy, education and vocational training for young offenders. The findings of this research suggest that a neuroscientific-informed legal system can improve justice, public safety and offender reintegration by prioritizing rehabilitation over punishment.
This chapter examines the period around independence in Rwanda and Kivu. The 1950s saw the maturation and increasing salience of “national” and “ethnic” aspects of people’s identities as they became central to political discussions over “autochthony” and access to resources. Changing political contexts made the ground more fertile for “ethnic,” as well as “national” identity to become part of the political vernacular.
For Rwanda, it focuses on the refugee waves that were the result of political violence against Tutsi in the period between 1959 and 1964. It shows that focusing too narrowly on the forced nature of their mobility disguises previous connections that were conducive to helping Tutsi refugees establish themselves in Congo. The chapter thus reiterates the importance of looking at people’s “personal information fields” as well as other preexisting affective or other ties in understanding the patterns of their mobility. For Kivu, the chapter tries to explore what other fault lines become visible when one shifts the attention away from “identity” as the sole explanation for violent conflicts, such as the “Kanyarwanda wars” in the 1960s.
A last point this chapter makes is the changing meanings of the border between Rwanda and Congo, for people living in its vicinity as well as for the Belgian administration. Whereas the Belgians had always benefited from the close connections between Kivu and Rwanda, this changed almost overnight in 1960 when Congo became independent. Both Rwandans and Congolese had used cross-border connections to build political networks and to organize out of the reach of the colonial state and traditional authorities. After Congo’s independence, the loss of control over subversive activities just across the border caused anxieties for the Belgians in Rwanda. For Congolese and Rwandans, independence turned the border into a national boundary, separating Rwandan from Congolese political sovereignty as well as altering the sense of national belonging.
This chapter focuses on change of an international order and its sense of legitimacy—in other words, change of the system of an international order and of its legitimacy. Concentrating on the change of an international order and of its legitimacy consists of exploring a type of change that is so transformative that it brings about a change in both how an international order is organized and institutionalized and functions, and how this is justified by the culture of legitimacy that is part of it. As a way to analyze this issue, this chapter addresses three questions: What can be the reasons triggering a change of international order/system and the sense of legitimacy that comes with it? What are the modalities and processes indicating that an international system and its legitimacy are changing? What has shifted—that is, changed—when a new international order and its culture of legitimacy have emerged?
This chapter addresses questions concerning history and international law. First, it focuses on what traditionally has been, until relatively recently, the relationship between international law and history, including the history of international law itself. Second, this chapter reflects on the globalization of international law and its ambiguous nature and results, combining empowerment and disempowerment. In particular, it highlights that the ambiguity of the globalization of international law has been on display not only with the connection between modern international law and Western power in the context of colonization but also with decolonization since, to a large extent, after decolonization, this connection has continued in the form of neocolonization. The chapter refers as well to the ambiguity of the globalization of international law in relation to the rise of the individual as an international rights holder in the framework of international human rights. Ultimately, international law has both alienating and emancipatory effects.
This article tries to explain the flourishing of geopolitical alternatives to the nation-state form and foreign policies organized around giant militarized power blocs during the two decades after World War II. The first section presents these new approaches to organizing the world. The first set of alternatives consisted of ideas and practices of the federation and the amalgamation of states into larger political units. These included Senghor’s vision of a postcolonial federation in which France and its former colonies would be equals; Nkrumah’s vision of a United States of Africa; and various short-lived amalgamations of states, including the Mali Federation and the United Arab Republic. These new geopolitical alternatives also included nonalignment, which originated with Jawaharlal Nehru of India and culminated with Josip Broz Tito of Yugoslavia but also encompassed Ireland between 1957 and 1961 and France in the early Fifth Republic. One of the distinctive features of this conjuncture is that these experiments were not limited to the global peripheries, colonies, and recently decolonized states, but also characterized certain nonhegemonic European core countries. The second section examines a set of four factors in this period that created an opportunity structure or space of possibilities for geopolitical experimentation: (1) late colonialism; (2) the Cold War; (3) the character of decolonization; and (4) the United Nations. The coexistence of these factors opened spaces of maneuver and autonomy for a flourishing of geopolitical imaginaries. The final section discusses possible reasons for the end of this period of experimentation.
A museum should be a place where cultures, dialogue, and social relations are enhanced. Given the renewed public interest in the topic, the author poses the question: Is there a need and a possibility to decolonize ethnographic museums? Should we have common and shared practices? In an attempt to eliminate colonial vestiges in museums, an analysis of literature and practices leads the author to analyze five European ethnographic museums in order to understand their merits and shortcomings. The subjectivity of these institutions and the diversity with which colonization can be presented makes the proposal of a single generalized solution not preferable. An objective analysis, based on actions and variables, drives the author to determine, however, that in order to revitalize museum practices, there is a need to create a sharable framework. The design of minimum standards can help museums set clear and measurable goals to achieve a higher level of decolonization.
This article studies the aftermath of the Second World and decolonization (1945–1960) in the Indo-Burmese highlands, challenging predominant notions of state-building. Using the ‘Zomia’ heuristic, it argues how trans-border Naga tribal communities residing in so-called ‘No-Man’s-Lands’ between British India’s Assam province and Burma neither entirely resisted states, nor attracted uniform state interest. This dual refusal of states and social actors reveals negotiated sovereignty practices, using violence. The article illustrates the Naga tribes’ agency in negotiating with colonial and post-colonial states by using mimetic discourses of primitive violence, represented by headhunting. Violence served as a significant means of communication between communities and state agents, amounting to shifting cultural and territorial boundaries. Such practices selectively securitized colonial frontiers that became international borders post-decolonization. Gradually, violence and the desire for development invited state extension here. The article reveals that uneven state-building and developmental exclusions by bordering created conditions for violence to emerge. It engages scholarship on ‘Blank Spaces’ to analyse the varying sovereignty arrangements that produced ‘checkered’ zones. It highlights the relationship between spatial history and violence to explain the persistence of coercive development and demands for more borders and states today across highland Asia. It uncovers the embeddedness of violence in creating and challenging developmental and democratic exclusions in post-colonial nation-building projects. The analysis complicates imperial legacies of producing territorial enclosures within democracies, allowing exceptional violence to occur. More broadly, it complicates contemporary geopolitical cartographic contests and stakes of state-possession, using historical methods with approaches from anthropology and political geography.
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.
This paper examines how, in politically polarized contexts, people reconstruct the biographies of contested memorialized figures to challenge or reproduce dualistic metanarratives of national history. We analyze two sites of recent controversy in Scotland and Lithuania which have been engaged in struggles over how to memorialize individuals who, at various points in their lives, engaged in acts of both anti-imperial resistance and collaboration in those same empires’ systems of oppression. Their moral liminality—a term we employ to refer to the transgression of moral categories—blurs the boundaries between perpetrators and victims of imperial violence, calling into question binary frameworks underpinning broader national narratives. Based on a comparative media analysis of debates over the legacies of David Livingstone and Jonas Noreika, we find that though some people in both Scotland and Lithuania have embraced these figures’ moral liminality, others have, instead, suppressed aspects of their biographies to uphold traditional distinctions between national “heroes” and foreign “villains.” We argue that such moral binaries are either blurred or reproduced through the manipulation of three aspects of liminal figures’ biographical records: their agency, motives, and social impact.
We trace the formation of the Kadehine, a Mauritanian cultural and political movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s, with a focus on aspects of the “political underground” central to the movement’s strategies and organizing principles. As an anthropological history of the Kadehine, we focus on the organizing perspective afforded by its sources (largely interviews and movement literature). These sources emphasize the importance of clandestinity, as well as the influence of New Left ideas. We then develop a concept, “political underground,” describing the importance of clandestinity and its relationship to the radical politics of its time.
Population growth was a pivotal issue in the United Nations during its first decades. The global population was growing steeply, and most of this growth took place in the formerly colonized states. Population trends were framed as an aspect of development and became object of extensive international activities, outside the UN and within. The paper explores the population discourse of those years with a focus on the UN and on the relationship with international law. It traces, firstly, the UN documents engaging directly with population growth and aiming to influence national population policies. Secondly, the paper suggests that the framing of population growth as problem of development stressed its causal role for poverty and food insecurity. The struggles for a New International Economic Order coincided with the international focus on population growth, partly with competing interpretations of reasons for global economic inequality. Thirdly, the paper suggests that the activities within the UN played a central role in shaping the discourse. While the activities of governments and private organizations were significant, it was through the authority of the UN that the development-population-nexus achieved such dominance.
There has been increasing attention both at national and international level to demands of reparations for historic injustices—colonialism, enslavement and the transatlantic chattel slave trade—and the role and relevance of international law in this context. A routinely identified legal obstacle to reparation demands is the doctrine of intertemporal law, which is generally interpreted to require past acts to be considered in the light of the law contemporary with them. This interpretation of the intertemporal doctrine has been contested more recently in international legal scholarship and practice, which both seek to instill an increased sense of ambiguity into the laws of the past, but crucially, this Article shows, these efforts do not extend this ambiguity to the doctrine of intertemporal law itself. This Article takes a closer look at the intertemporal doctrine and interrogates these varying interpretations. It analyses both conventional and critical international legal scholarship on the intertemporal doctrine in the context of reparation claims for historic injustices and contrasts them to the scholarly reception of the intertemporal doctrine in the past and selected cases from the International Court of Justice (“ICJ”), arguing that whilst an often–unquestioned static understanding of intertemporality prevails, more dynamic interpretations of the doctrine also exist. By building on these legal arguments that enshrine a less static relationship between past and present laws within the discipline of international law—including ICJ decisions, judges’ dissenting opinions, states’ arguments, and critical legal scholarship—the Article defends a potentially emancipatory interpretive approach to the doctrine that could reframe it so as to support, rather than hinder, reparation claims for historic injustices in international law.