Both Aihwa Ong and Nicholas de Genova's articles discussed ideas of transnational migration and what comprises "citizenship" or "illegality" in an age of globalization and modern capitalism.
It's striking to note some of the parallels in the two scholars' conclusions, considering the radically different stories and backgrounds of their subjects. Ong focuses on a group of Hong Kong-to-Bay Area emigrants that make up a so-called "money-elite," individuals who are wealthy and successful in Hong Kong and whose business, real estate, and social relations in America are part of an effort to accumulate cultural or symbolic capital (for themselves and their families). De Genova writes about Mexican migrants from very poor, rural villages who move to Chicago and suffer long hours and low wages in generally low-skilled jobs in order to earn what is still significantly more than what they would make in Mexico. Both Ong and de Genova note that these two groups are active agents in the shaping of their "self-identity" (Ong 88) or the "reconstitution of their own 'Mexican'-ness" (de Genova 96) in a "cross-cultural context" (Ong 88). Both authors also discuss the structural discrimination and racial hierarchy that presents itself across transnational spaces and borders.
Ong expands on the ideas of Pierre Bourdieu in discussing "strategies of accumulation and mobility," (93) which involve the adoption of "Euroamerican" cultural standards and trends, often starting with a Western education and degree. However, a major point of her article is that there are structural limits to this accumulation and mobility in the form of racism, historical ideas of subordination, and NIMBY politics. She brings up ideas of racial triangulation and the model minority in noting that the "American ethno-racial hierarchy" places "Asian subjects as a 'good,' but subordinated, minority" (100). This operates simultaneously with the desire of powerful figures to do business with successful Hong Kong emigrants: "'They want your Pacific Rim money, but they don't want you'" (108).
De Genova focuses on the nation-states of the U.S. and Mexico and the production of what he terms "Mexican Chicago," which represents a particular "conjuncture" of racialized and spatialized difference between these nation-states. He's not talking about assimilation on one end or displacement on the other, but a production of space (Mexican Chicago) that is defined by the social relations of migrant Mexicans, a space that is very much embedded in the present and future of Mexico itself. ("...a Chicago that can be claimed for Latin America" [120].) This is part of a process of "re-racialization" of Mexican-ness that is always defined in the context of the dominant racial order of the U.S.
I particularly liked de Genova's discussion of the U.S.-Mexico border, and the role of its enforcement in this transnational production of space. With Felipe's two stories, it's clear that the border is not static; at one moment, it is invisible (wiring money), and at another, it is a serious barrier (physically crossing over). The making and ummaking of boundaries is key in his discussion of transnational space and migration.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Golden Gulag
Ruth Wilson Gilmore’s Golden Gulag explores the remarkable growth of California’s prison system since 1982 and discusses how and why such a massive prison expansion program was created. She also chronicles the grassroots opposition that has fought the ways in which the criminal justice system uses criminalization as the easy answer to social problems.
Gilmore identifies a pattern that leads to the use of what she terms “the prison fix” – a pattern beginning with growth, then leading to crisis, economic or political restructuring, surplus, and finally, the prison fix. She focuses on the idea that with growth come developments in labor and capital. In California, power blocs invested this capital in the military-industrial complex. Growth eventually gives way to crises of unemployment, rural displacement, or recession. The farm debt crisis resulted in a shift in available jobs, as well as a surplus of workers. Prisons are a strategy through which the state can be rebuilt after a crisis and subsequent structural change (many times under the guise of strict, anticrime administrations). The logic lies in the way prisons deal with surpluses: they make use of state capacities, idle land, capital, and manage to get low-wage workers off the streets. Thus, with prison expansion came harsher laws, increased sentence lengths, the “three strikes” law – all measures to guarantee more prisoners. The money for prison expansion was attained through LRBs (lease revenue bonds). Places to site prisons were found in rural areas like Corcoran, where growth had stagnated and those in power wanted to spark development. This is also pretty clearly shown in the movie "Prison Town, USA," which focuses on Susanville, another rural town in California whose industry now almost exclusively centers on prisons.
In revealing the ways in which prisons are actually used and the reasons for which they are built, Gilmore proves that the traditional view that dictates a connection between “crime” and “prisons” is not necessarily true. People accept prisons as a way of instilling order, increasing stability and reducing crime through means of “retribution, deterrence, rehabilitation, or incapacitation” (14). But as Gilmore notes, “Those jurisdictions that have not built a lot of prisons and thrown more people into them have enjoyed greater decreases in crime than states where incapacitation became a central government activity” (15). In short, prisons have become less about crime than about industrialization.
Another concept that Gilmore focuses on is the influence of grassroots organizations in opposition to prison expansion. Mothers Reclaiming Our Children (Mothers ROC) was created because of the startling frequency and intensity of people of all ages being locked into the criminal justice system, by the state. Their actions were meant to “educate, organize, and empower;” through this, they developed a process of identification through a common interest.
In this way, Gilmore (as well as the makers of Prison Town, USA) shows us the ways that this seemingly unstoppable prison-industrial complex affects the lives of real people, often making it extremely difficult for people who are caught in the system to ever escape.
Gilmore identifies a pattern that leads to the use of what she terms “the prison fix” – a pattern beginning with growth, then leading to crisis, economic or political restructuring, surplus, and finally, the prison fix. She focuses on the idea that with growth come developments in labor and capital. In California, power blocs invested this capital in the military-industrial complex. Growth eventually gives way to crises of unemployment, rural displacement, or recession. The farm debt crisis resulted in a shift in available jobs, as well as a surplus of workers. Prisons are a strategy through which the state can be rebuilt after a crisis and subsequent structural change (many times under the guise of strict, anticrime administrations). The logic lies in the way prisons deal with surpluses: they make use of state capacities, idle land, capital, and manage to get low-wage workers off the streets. Thus, with prison expansion came harsher laws, increased sentence lengths, the “three strikes” law – all measures to guarantee more prisoners. The money for prison expansion was attained through LRBs (lease revenue bonds). Places to site prisons were found in rural areas like Corcoran, where growth had stagnated and those in power wanted to spark development. This is also pretty clearly shown in the movie "Prison Town, USA," which focuses on Susanville, another rural town in California whose industry now almost exclusively centers on prisons.
In revealing the ways in which prisons are actually used and the reasons for which they are built, Gilmore proves that the traditional view that dictates a connection between “crime” and “prisons” is not necessarily true. People accept prisons as a way of instilling order, increasing stability and reducing crime through means of “retribution, deterrence, rehabilitation, or incapacitation” (14). But as Gilmore notes, “Those jurisdictions that have not built a lot of prisons and thrown more people into them have enjoyed greater decreases in crime than states where incapacitation became a central government activity” (15). In short, prisons have become less about crime than about industrialization.
Another concept that Gilmore focuses on is the influence of grassroots organizations in opposition to prison expansion. Mothers Reclaiming Our Children (Mothers ROC) was created because of the startling frequency and intensity of people of all ages being locked into the criminal justice system, by the state. Their actions were meant to “educate, organize, and empower;” through this, they developed a process of identification through a common interest.
In this way, Gilmore (as well as the makers of Prison Town, USA) shows us the ways that this seemingly unstoppable prison-industrial complex affects the lives of real people, often making it extremely difficult for people who are caught in the system to ever escape.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
What is a camp?
I find it interesting that this week's readings are introduced by questions like "What is a camp?" or "Where in the world is Guantanamo Bay?" It is telling of the tangled political and historical web that creates these fuzzy gray areas - a muddy no man's land of limited sovereignty or, as Kaplan terms it, a "legal limbo" (831).
The common thread between these readings is the discussion of spaces that are somehow borderless, where the "state of exception" becomes normal, ubiquitous. While I was reading Kaplan's "Where is Guantanamo?" I couldn't help but think back to our section on Chinatown, and Anderson's article on Chinatown as an idea, as a kind of Western notion constructed by racial ideology, on top of its very real physical identity. It seems that Guantanamo also exists as an idea and a place - a space that is formed by a history of U.S. imperialism and in which no real jurisdiction can be exercised. Individuals are stripped of status. As Kaplan notes, the "enemy combatant" (840) becomes a means of lumping transnational individuals into a simple, racialized category. Faceless and nameless.
The question of citizenship rights is explored more deeply by Ngai. What happens to these rights that somehow allows for abuses like the Japanese internment? As we discussed in class, this question is one that Agamben poses as well: "How could such events take place there?" There, referring to this transitional space, this idea of a camp that is also a historicized, physical manifestation of colonization and imperialism.
Questions that I wonder about in light of these readings: What is the value of citizenship in a camp? During a state of exception? Internment affected Japanese-Americans, citizens and non-citizens alike. Subjection to a state of political and legal limbo renders rights virtually meaningless. Is there a difference between prisoners' rights and citizens' rights in a camp?
The common thread between these readings is the discussion of spaces that are somehow borderless, where the "state of exception" becomes normal, ubiquitous. While I was reading Kaplan's "Where is Guantanamo?" I couldn't help but think back to our section on Chinatown, and Anderson's article on Chinatown as an idea, as a kind of Western notion constructed by racial ideology, on top of its very real physical identity. It seems that Guantanamo also exists as an idea and a place - a space that is formed by a history of U.S. imperialism and in which no real jurisdiction can be exercised. Individuals are stripped of status. As Kaplan notes, the "enemy combatant" (840) becomes a means of lumping transnational individuals into a simple, racialized category. Faceless and nameless.
The question of citizenship rights is explored more deeply by Ngai. What happens to these rights that somehow allows for abuses like the Japanese internment? As we discussed in class, this question is one that Agamben poses as well: "How could such events take place there?" There, referring to this transitional space, this idea of a camp that is also a historicized, physical manifestation of colonization and imperialism.
Questions that I wonder about in light of these readings: What is the value of citizenship in a camp? During a state of exception? Internment affected Japanese-Americans, citizens and non-citizens alike. Subjection to a state of political and legal limbo renders rights virtually meaningless. Is there a difference between prisoners' rights and citizens' rights in a camp?
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Subjection
In "The Birth of the Reservation," Thomas Biolsi explores how the Lakota people went through an "internal pacification" within the specific space of the reservation, making them more easily controlled and subjected by the U.S. government with the help of the creation of the Office of Indian Affairs. Following Foucauldian principles, Biolsi's main point is that the state created new categories of identity and self-interest by which to know and control the Lakota, through four major processes: property ownership, determination of "competence", registration of the degree of Indian "blood," and registration of genealogy.
The process of allotment is a good example of how new kinds of individuals were created. By operating within a system of private property and ownership, the Lakota came to formulate new ideas of what makes land valuable and took on a new role in the private market. This is property ownership as a form of "modern subjectivity" - the creation of "new subjects with radically new interests and social and political relations to each other" (33). This marked shift in self-interest represents a parallel shift in social identity.
Signficiantly, Bolsi defines early on, "Subjection involves the official promulgation of fundamental social classifications through which individuals are to be known and allowed to act" (30). Thus, the ways that state institutions were able to classify the Lakota people enabled the government to more easily subjugate and control the Lakota Indians of the Great Sioux Reservation, including the ways they behaved. Bolsi's use of the concept of subjection also brings to mind Ngai's discussion of the alien citizen and the persistence of foreign- or Other-ness that often defines cultural attitudes and behaviors.
Smith also discusses subjection (notably of "women and indigenous peoples") in the framework of systemic power. She explores the ways that people, lands, and properties become "violable" via a process of "sexual colonization." This is not only subjugation of peoples and bodies, but also of nature. In this vein, she discusses environmental activism and racism as it relates to Native peoples and people of color, especially women.
The process of allotment is a good example of how new kinds of individuals were created. By operating within a system of private property and ownership, the Lakota came to formulate new ideas of what makes land valuable and took on a new role in the private market. This is property ownership as a form of "modern subjectivity" - the creation of "new subjects with radically new interests and social and political relations to each other" (33). This marked shift in self-interest represents a parallel shift in social identity.
Signficiantly, Bolsi defines early on, "Subjection involves the official promulgation of fundamental social classifications through which individuals are to be known and allowed to act" (30). Thus, the ways that state institutions were able to classify the Lakota people enabled the government to more easily subjugate and control the Lakota Indians of the Great Sioux Reservation, including the ways they behaved. Bolsi's use of the concept of subjection also brings to mind Ngai's discussion of the alien citizen and the persistence of foreign- or Other-ness that often defines cultural attitudes and behaviors.
Smith also discusses subjection (notably of "women and indigenous peoples") in the framework of systemic power. She explores the ways that people, lands, and properties become "violable" via a process of "sexual colonization." This is not only subjugation of peoples and bodies, but also of nature. In this vein, she discusses environmental activism and racism as it relates to Native peoples and people of color, especially women.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Noxious New York
Julie Sze examines environmental justice activism on a community level in New York, while framing her argument in the context of privatization and deregulation. She focuses first on four major environmental campaigns, located in Williamsburg, Sunset Park, West Harlem and the South Bronx.
I wish Sze spent more time discussing the multi-ethnic and multi-racial coalitions of Sunset Park and Williamsburg. She noted that these were basically temporary coalitions, formed with a specific end-goal in mind, but considering the unique circumstances that led to their formation, I think it is important to recognize the potential power (and problems) of such alliances. Sze documents these campaigns and their efforts to curtail "noxious" siting (toxic/medical waste facilities, etc) to show that they share a common rhetoric of environmental justice while incorporating considerations of race, history, and geography.
Asthma is also a focus of Sze's book. She explores the politicization of asthma as it relates to issues of race and gender, and again discusses the importance of community activism in the effort to effect policy change.
I particularly liked Chapter 4 and its focus on "local and global trash politics." This is where Sze really starts to explore the consequences of privatization in the system of garbage and sanitation. It's a blurring of private and public spheres. What is most efficient? What is best for the public good?
One issue I had with these chapters, however, is the way Sze frames the resolutions of these conflicts of environmental justice. Though it is important to recognize the successes of these campaigns, I felt like Sze relied too heavily on them, without focusing on the big picture. Yes, organizations like OWN have accomplished goals and definitely sparked discourse on the matter of environmental justice and environmental inequality - but what now?
I wish Sze spent more time discussing the multi-ethnic and multi-racial coalitions of Sunset Park and Williamsburg. She noted that these were basically temporary coalitions, formed with a specific end-goal in mind, but considering the unique circumstances that led to their formation, I think it is important to recognize the potential power (and problems) of such alliances. Sze documents these campaigns and their efforts to curtail "noxious" siting (toxic/medical waste facilities, etc) to show that they share a common rhetoric of environmental justice while incorporating considerations of race, history, and geography.
Asthma is also a focus of Sze's book. She explores the politicization of asthma as it relates to issues of race and gender, and again discusses the importance of community activism in the effort to effect policy change.
I particularly liked Chapter 4 and its focus on "local and global trash politics." This is where Sze really starts to explore the consequences of privatization in the system of garbage and sanitation. It's a blurring of private and public spheres. What is most efficient? What is best for the public good?
One issue I had with these chapters, however, is the way Sze frames the resolutions of these conflicts of environmental justice. Though it is important to recognize the successes of these campaigns, I felt like Sze relied too heavily on them, without focusing on the big picture. Yes, organizations like OWN have accomplished goals and definitely sparked discourse on the matter of environmental justice and environmental inequality - but what now?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)