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.

Indigenous peoples across the world are at disproportionate risk of mental health problems. Colonial hegemony, cultural infiltration, language loss, land grabbing, limited access to healthcare services, including mental health, and geographical isolation – all in synergy – contribute to the heightened risk of developing mental health problems. Epistemic injustice, apparently unrelated, yet another major determinant – can also contribute to the higher prevalence of mental health problems among Indigenous peoples. Systemic exclusion and marginalization of Indigenous people from the generation, dissemination, and validation of knowledge – the central concept of epistemic injustice – provides an opportunity to reflect on the disproportionate rates of mental health problems. If epistemic injustice is left unaddressed, the impetus for Indigenous peoples to participate in conventional health practices would be greatly impeded. In this article, I present the case of Bangladesh, where the conventional mental healthcare system has historically been ignorant of the inclusion of Indigenous people’s perspectives and lived experiences, eventually perpetuating epistemic injustice. Finally, I provide a framework to address epistemic injustices to reform mental healthcare in Bangladesh that can inform a system equipped with equitability, accessibility, cultural sensitivity, human rights, social justice, and collaborative alliance – key tenets of global mental health.

Deliberative processes are an antidote to despair about the inadequacies of politics-as-usual, but the “deliberative wave” (OECD 2021) of these initiatives around the globe has the potential, in some contexts, to be the latest face of colonization. In Aotearoa New Zealand, one project has worked since 2019 to design a climate assembly that enacts Te Tiriti o Waitangi (1840) obligations to honour Māori political authority. This article outlines the project's three innovations to the citizens’ assembly design that centre Māori forms of governance and reflect Māori deliberative protocols, and highlights three important distinctions to how a group of tangata Tiriti (people of the Treaty) has worked in partnership with tangata whenua (people of the land). Each feature has been vital to becoming Te Tiriti-led despite a context of ongoing colonization, with this place-based assembly having major implications for deliberation theory and practice worldwide.

Drawing on newspaper articles and oral histories, this paper provides an initial sketch of some of the issues at stake within the Ga community in Accra, focusing on the founding of the Ga Shifimo Kpee, a nationalist movement founded at the heart of the first President Kwame Nkrumah’s new capital and the seat of his own power in the new country. Rather than providing a definitive account of the Shifimo Kpee, this article highlights the ways in which foundational published accounts have sometimes inhibited a richer understanding of this period and analyzes primary sources to point to new avenues of interrogation.

With the Cold War’s epicenter shifting from Europe to the Third World, the Eisenhower administration’s foreign policy concerns of containing the Soviet bloc were tied to questions of socioeconomic development. Besides “trade and aid,” the appeal of this shift rested on the apparent complementarity between ideas of rural modernization and the practices of agrarian democracy. “Community development” referred to a series of projects initiated by the Ford Foundation and postcolonial governments toward this cultural-political end. This article examines the contested meanings, practices, and outcomes of such a project in East Pakistan (present-day Bangladesh). Drawing on the project’s archives and published sources, it addresses how and why a disjuncture between the political-societal aspirations of decolonization and the hardening Manicheanism of Cold War competition came to characterize the contested trajectory of this project. As its proponents and detractors negotiated competing expectations, inter-regional tensions, and geostrategic interests, this disjuncture gave way to a developmental ideology envisioned around the technocratic nodes of population control and food production. Consequently, the supposed complementarity between “agrarian democracy” and modernization was relegated to the margins of developmental thinking, even as growing rural unrest and Cold War realpolitik propelled its need for legitimizing new claims on political power. The prism of community development enables a novel analysis of the conjunctural dynamics of mid-twentieth-century decolonization and the contingencies of Cold War politics of agrarian modernization.