Abstract: This paper explores the complexities of refugee settlerhood, examining the intersection of forced migration, settler colonialism, and the implications for Indigenous communities. Through the lens of personal experiences as a Tamil-Canadian, the tension between being both a product of colonization and a participant in the settler colonial project comes into focus, highlighting the differential experiences of migration that shape varying degrees of complicity. Using the insights of scholars like Xavier (2022), Wiegel et al. (2019), and Ellerman & O’Heran (2021), the paper critiques the commodification of citizenship and belonging in settler states and examines how refugees and migrants, despite fleeing violence and persecution, contribute to the ongoing dispossession of Indigenous peoples. The paper argues that understanding settler complicity requires a shift away from binary notions of guilt and innocence, advocating instead for a framework of decolonized belonging. In this framework, belonging is redefined through Indigenous sovereignty, relational accountability, and active engagement in dismantling settler colonial structures. Ultimately, confronting colonial legacies and working toward transformative justice for Indigenous communities necessitates a collective responsibility, with refugee settlers playing a critical role in this process.



Excerpt: In mid-twentieth-century Aotearoa/New Zealand, the Pākehā (settler) poet J. R. Hervey encounters a “squat citadel spraying power”—a hydroelectric dam—and finds that it has turned the river into “dumb, disciplined waters” (43). A decade later, the Māori poet Hone Tuwhare (Ngāpuhi) draws on his experiences as a worker on hydroelectric dam projects to also describe their environmental impact as a forcible act of silencing: “Nowhere is there greater fuss/to tear out the river’s tongue” (“Sea” 30). At first glance, the similarity between Hervey and Tuwhare’s portrayals of rivers rendered “dumb” simply attests to the far-flung extent of the modernist belief that hydroelectric infrastructure contributed to civilization’s necessary work of pacifying unruly nature. As Patrick McCully puts it in his history of large dams, aptly titled Silenced Rivers (1996), such infrastructure has come to “symbolize the progress of humanity from a life ruled by nature and superstition to one where nature is ruled by science, and superstition vanquished by rationality” (237). Framed by this binary opposition, literature seems to offer a powerful vehicle through which rivers might speak against the extractivist forces that would seek to silence them. Thus, Paul Kingsnorth aligns his recent poetic response to the “wild and blue, raging and unchanneled” rivers of Patagonia, Songs from the Blue River (2018), with theologian Thomas Berry’s insight that the “modern project” is predicated upon silencing these bodies of water: “We are not talking to the river, we are not listening to the river. We have broken the great conversation” (qtd. in Kingsnorth). Yet such straightforward assertions are complicated by the earlier examples of Hervey and Tuwhare, whose distinct cultural perspectives prompt questions both about the source of a river’s speech and the ability to understand what it might have to say. The matter of riverine voice has surfaced into western consciousness in recent years as a result of various legislative attempts to recognize prior and ongoing Indigenous understandings of rivers as living, ancestral, metaphysical entities.





Abstract: My studies in the Northern Territory/Queensland border region of Australia’s Gulf Country indicate continuing tense negotiations among Waanyi/Garawa people concerning the inclusion/exclusion of particular persons as traditional owners and recipients of benefits from various economic ventures. Despite commonly expressed Indigenous views that stress the importance of sustaining continuity of traditional ‘law’, this points to the importance of addressing change, as assuming that the model of traditional ownership articulated in a land claim 40 years ago will not undergo modification would be naïve. Subsequent generations have come to define connections to Country more flexibly than the earlier documented system of inheritance through patrilines and mother’s patrilines. Native title, land claims, and mining negotiations on the Queensland side of the border have influenced this outcome. I address risks of legal rigidification of customary law driven by the practical availability of the original Northern Territory land rights research. That earlier completed work has become a focus for appeals to cultural authenticity and strategic traditionalism among Indigenous protagonists fuelled in part by competition for money and related resources. While research such as mine from the 1980s remains essential in decision-making, it needs to be updated and approached with a methodology open to the significance of cultural change. This difficult area of anthropological work deserves more analytical attention, recognition, and support.


Abstract: Authenticity is often regarded as an impediment to decolonization, particularly in contexts involving Indigenous people. Some frame authenticity as a colonialist construct, perpetuated by Indigenous people and others to contest or enforce power relations. Others dismiss authenticity altogether as an illusory, essentialist and divisive concept. Yet others marshal ‘hybridity’ and ‘Indigenous modernity’ as conceptual alternatives. While these lenses generate useful perspectives, I argue that their shared rejection of authenticity overlooks the diverse ways in which many Indigenous people make sense of it. To account for authenticity’s intricate vernacular usage and functionality in contexts of Indigenous resurgence, I propose an additional framework that differentiates authenticity from accuracy and verisimilitude. I draw on ethnographic fieldwork conducted between 2014 and 2022 among urban-based and newly identifying Indigenous people in Cape Town, South Africa, whose authenticity rarely goes unquestioned. When expressing their views on authenticity, many ‘Khoisan revivalists’ assert their agency by subverting widely held expectations. Their ‘subversive authenticity’ intermittently ignores, rejects and reinforces dominant understandings of Indigenous authenticity in a seemingly disinterested manner. As its boundaries are thus made porous, authenticity emerges as a potential source of empowerment and conduit for decolonization. However, since authenticity’s boundaries frequently remain contested, subversive authenticity is not meant to supplant critical approaches but to increase the analytical purchase of anthropologists’ theoretical arsenal.