Abstract: This paper attempts to contribute to thinking about the ethical responsibilities of the psychoanalytic profession in the context of the Gaza genocide. In a world inured to mass suffering, and paralyzed by a sense of impotence, the crisis in Palestine has had a unique impact on the collective consciousness and conscience, engendering unprecedented mobilizations across society. A situation with such devastating consequences for the physical and psychological well-being of a whole society confronts health professionals with pressing questions about their response, as citizens and as members of civil society institutions, made more urgent by their location, more often than not, within societies that have participated in the genocide. The approach is idiosyncratic. The paper explores a perceived split between an acceptance of moral responsibility matched with a sense of agency where harm is perpetrated in the domestic and private setting, as against the denial or avoidance of a recognition of being implicated in analogous situations in the public realm. It does this through an overlapping discussion of two issues, one from each sphere: pedophilia/child sexual exploitation, and settler colonialism. With an eye to the relevance of this to the ethical life of psychoanalysis, this author argues that the basis for inaction—a performative commitment to human rights accompanied by a tenacious passivity or paralysis—is ripe for revision, to bring the profession into line with long-established medical ethics.





Abstract: Iron Maiden’s “Run to the Hills” (1982) tells a story about the history of genocide that is often erased from settler histories about westward expansion and, because of its frank depiction of settler violence against Indigenous communities, the song has been cited as an influence by Indigenous bands like Testify and Testament and by solo artists like Tanya Tagaq. Despite its enormous popularity among fans, critics of the song point to a central paradox: while the song’s lyrics seem to empathize with the plight of the Indigenous communities to which it alludes, every character in the song, including a fictional Cree man who vanishes from the narrative after the introduction, is performed by a settler vocalist (the band’s lead singer, Bruce Dickinson). This contradiction is reflected in the song’s video, which portrays settlers as hapless fools, but which also features white actors in redface whose performances merely reinforce racist stereotypes of the wily or bloodthirsty “Indian.” In 2018, Inuk singer Tanya Tagaq teamed up with punk vocalist Damian Abraham to rework the song in a way that would allow each musician to provide a different perspective on the story. In terms of vocal timbre, Tagaq’s vocal practice depicts what Kateryna Barnes (2021) calls the sounds of Sila, or Mother Earth, while Abraham’s growling gut voice represents what David Pearson (2019) describes as the “(in)humane” sounds of industry. With these sonic contrasts, and a reworking of the song that retains the Indigenous voice throughout, I will argue that the 2018 cover of “Run to the Hills” presents its listener not only with a story about the genocide of Indigenous peoples, but also with an apocalyptic warning about the killing of Sila by settler industrialization.



Abstract: Settler colonial ideology persists not only through official narratives and explicit beliefs but through perception, affect, and the organization of public space. Using case studies of heritage tourism sites in St. Augustine, Florida, I develop the concept of the colonial uncanny: a historically specific, managed affective disturbance that arises when colonial representations reactivate inherited perceptual and affective orientations. I argue that these environments are structured to afford a particular kind of affective encounter with colonial violence for settler visitors. In settler colonial societies, heritage spaces tend to depict the past in ways that do not disrupt settler legitimacy. This often occurs through erasure and silencing, but not always. Settler societies can also manage the past by making violent histories partially visible in representational modes that both disturb and stabilize settler subjects. I call this structure the colonial uncanny. It emerges when historically sedimented ideological residues and surmounted developmental dispositions are reactivated together, so that colonial ways of seeing momentarily reappear as both unsettling and familiar before being restabilized through modes of containment that convert discomfort into education and thrill. Through comparisons of Ripley’s Believe It or Not! Museum, the Fountain of Youth Archaeological Park, and the Old Jail Museum, I show that the colonial uncanny is not an intrinsic property of sites but a relational encounter produced between representational environments and historically positioned spectators. I further argue that this encounter operates through an iterative process of construction and containment, through which unsettling colonial histories are made perceptible, managed, and folded back into everyday forms of settler common sense.


Abstract: Ice hockey occupies a central place in Canadian popular culture and national mythology, routinely invoked as “Canada’s game” and as a formative site for producing disciplined and socially valued citizens. At the same time, the sport has been widely critiqued for reproducing racialized exclusion, settler colonial power relations, and other forms of social harm. This article examines the intersections of sport, settler colonialism, and reconciliation through diverse engagements with ice hockey, focusing on the Beardy’s Blackhawks, a U18 AAA boys’ team based in the Beardy’s and Okemasis Willow Cree First Nation in central Saskatchewan. For more than 25 years, the Blackhawks provided Indigenous and settler youth access to elite-level hockey within a culturally grounded First Nations context. Drawing on a year-long ethnographic study, including interviews with Indigenous (First Nations and Métis) and settler players, the article traces how a sport historically used as a tool of cultural assimilation in residential schools has been reworked as a site of cultural affirmation, relationship-building, and intercultural exchange. We demonstrate that participation in the Blackhawks fostered community rooted in First Nation values while also prompting settler players to confront and unlearn racialized assumptions. While highlighting hockey’s potential to support reconciliatory relationships, the article also underscores the fragility of such spaces, evidenced by the program’s eventual dissolution and the loss of a rare high-performance pathway for Indigenous youth living on reserve.




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