Excerpt: The GREAT plan (subtitled “From a Demolished Iranian Proxy to a Prosperous Abrahamic Ally”), like its kin proposals, is also a recapitulation, recombination and acceleration of multiple forms and devices of domination emerging from the history of colonial racial capitalism. As a node in what it calls “the Abrahamic fabric” of this imperial region, the political form to be taken by Gaza is that of a “U.S.-led multilateral custodianship.” The Trust, we are told, will govern Gaza “for a transition period until a reformed and deradicalized Palestinian Polity is ready to step in its shoes.” To implement this structure of antipolitical governance—an echo of the UN Mandate system which regarded certain populations as unready (or in the case of Palestinians, unfit) for self-governance without European tutelage—this machine to void Palestinian sovereignty, premised on the subaltern’s willingness to mature into a willing and pacific client, GREAT includes its own productions of neocolonial space, namely what it terms “Hamas-free humanitarian transition zones.” Presented with operational maps, these “humanitarian transitions areas,” to be managed by the Gaza Humanitarian Foundation and then a “hybrid security framework,” are the not-very-distant descendants of the British practice of resettlement into “new villages” in Kenya and Malaya, the French policy of regroupement in Algeria, and United States’s own strategy of “hamletization” in Vietnam. Demonstrating the sheer continuity in the ruling imaginary of counterinsurgency, the very design of the “New Gaza,” with its golf courses and green areas, draws on the history of social war in the imperial metropolis itself. As we can read in one of the slides: “Like Haussman’s strategy in 19th century Paris, this plan aims to address one of Gaza’s ongoing insurgency’s root causes: its urban design.” Felicitously, spatial discipline can now be complemented by cybernetic control, once “all services and economy in these cities will be done through ID-based AI-powered digital system.” But GREAT has a much wider horizon than the mere management of pacification in the wake of genocide. In the breathlessly vapid language of venture-capitalist visionaries, it sings of raising billions in public private investment, employing an “innovative funding model” that would combine some kind of “tokenized” “land trust” whose returns would be invested in a “Wealth Fund for Gaza.” Gaza’s value, now estimated at 0 dollars, would rise in ten years to over $300 billion (accompanied by “1 million jobs”). Critical to GREAT’s vision is the idea of Gaza as a “hub” in a vast logistical-extractive-productive regional complex to compete with China. The establishment of the “New Gaza” would serve to accelerate the profitable integration of the India-Middle East-Europe Economic Corridor (IMEC) and transform the Strip into the “center of pro-American regional architecture,” securing economic, political, and military power over the circulation of energy, capital, and commodities (special attention is given to “rare-earth minerals”). As Ziadah argues, what “is being imagined is not recovery for [Gaza’s] residents, but the conversion of Gaza into a logistics centre serving IMEC,” “a corporatized trusteeship for global capital”. In GREAT, she concludes, “Gaza is described less as a society than as a distressed asset to be flipped. This is disaster capitalism at its sharpest. It is devastation reframed as the precondition for speculative profit.”


Abstract: At the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries, Siberia once again became a “melting pot” that brought together representatives of diverse ethnic groups. The reasons for migration beyond the Urals were predominantly economic. This article examines how various social events in the first third of the 20th century affected the lives of Siberian Germans. Amid the agrarian crisis, Russian Germans engaged in agriculture were compelled to seek ways to survive within Russia. The modernization of the state resettlement policy in the early 20th century and the expansion of rail transport created favorable conditions for labor migration, as a result of which, by the mid-1910s, Siberia had become one of the most rapidly developing agrarian regions. German settlers played no small part in this process by establishing capitalist family-farm enterprises that served as models for Russian oldsettlers and other migrants. The events of 1914–1922 disrupted the established rhythms of German rural life. The economic policies of the Bolsheviks who came to power precipitated famine in the first half of the 1920s. The German population suffered as well, which fueled growing emigration sentiment. Even so, the New Economic Policy (NEP) and the revival of cooperatives enabled a rapid recovery of small scale commodity production. The All-Russian Mennonite Agricultural Union played an important role in this process. The gradual rollback of the NEP and the shift to a command-administrative economic model brought increasing pressure to bear on the German population, among which conservative clerical sentiments predominated. By the late 1920s, this would trigger a new round of confrontation between Russian Germans and the Soviet state. This article will interest readers concerned with the history of ethnic minorities (Russian Germans) and nationalities policy in the 20th century.



Excerpt: Thandika Mkandawire, the late Chair of African Development at the LSE and celebrated Professor in ID, had a knack for taking trending development perspectives and turning them on their head to reveal how they are experienced by people of the Global South. Reading his work on settler colonialism and institutions is something of an ‘aha moment’, triggering a Gestalt shift that reveals what development looks like to those at the receiving end.  Thandika’s insights challenge the reigning perspective of Nobel-prize winning scholars, Daron Acemoglu, Simon Johnson and James Robinson (affectionately known as AJR is ID circles), who are credited with rehabilitating settler colonialism by distinguishing it from the violent and extractive practices of colonialism in areas less hospitable to European settlement.   In their seminal article on the subject, AJR argued that settler colonialism, in contrast to its nasty extractive variant, implanted ‘good institutions’ associated with secure property rights, the rule of law, and democratic governance, which have driven successful development over the centuries. Revisiting the experience of settler colonialism in Africa, Thandika’s work raises questions about who settler colonial institutions were good for, and whether the settler era is as shrouded in the past as often suggested.  Re ecting on settler colonialism through the prism of Thandika’s life and work provides an ideal opportunity to highlight his iconic research on African Development to a new cohort of ID students, and, in the spirit of Black History month, shows how engagement with the histories of the colonized can contribute to deepening and decolonizing contemporary development debates.


Excerpt: In this study, I showed that four settler colonial varieties—Australian English, Canadian English, New Zealand English, and American English—share a minority morphosyntactic feature across a wide geographical space, and that this feature’s presence in each variety is consistent with having been brought by members of the settling population. I suggest that this finding is akin to the homogeneity of national varieties like Canadian English. In this sense, the homogeneity of settler colonial varieties is scalar. At a regional level, in the case of the United States, or national level, in the case of Australia, Canada, and New Zealand, the founding population of a given settler colonial state establishes a specific variety (Denis and D’Arcy 2019). These regional and national varieties are not necessarily identical to one another; differences in the exact mix of founding population, plus hundreds of years of drift, lead to differences between them. In addition to this regional/national scale identified by Denis and D’Arcy (2018, 2019), there appears to be a larger, pan-colonial scale to the homogeneity of settler colonial Englishes. Although the specific founding populations of each variety differ, they do share a great deal. To risk oversimplifying, much of the difference in founding populations might be characterized as a matter of the proportion of the overall mix contributed by specific groups rather than a matter of which groups participated at all. In this sense, settler colonial varieties broadly share sets of founding groups. That the AEP, which came from Scots/Scots-Irish settlers, can be found across settler colonial varieties suggests that this shared set of founding groups has resulted in a shared set of minority features as well. In this way, the AEP, while not a majority feature in any settler colonial variety, is nevertheless indicative of a pan-colonial homogeneity in dialectal makeup and dialectal diversity. Further exploring this homogeneity across settler colonial Englishes may be useful in understanding how these varieties developed.






Abstract: Blackwood’s Canadian stories offer a version of Gothic wilderness-tourism terror, informed by an inherent ambivalence and repressed guilt about the British ‘colonizer’ entering traditional Indigenous territory. The encounter with Indigenous peoples and cultures, even as these cultures are recognized as more holistic and authentic than rational British subjects, is marked by a distinct discomfort. The British tourists, for all that they want to become one with nature, experience themselves encompassed by a hostile natural environment in which they are aware of themselves as intruders. Indigenous cultures in these stories are either threatening spectres (‘The Valley of the Beasts’; ‘The Haunted Island’; ‘The Wendigo’) or forlorn remnants (‘Running Wolf’), in both instances highlighting the irrepressible guilt that stalks the white intruder who unconsciously courts an experience of self-dissolution as expiation. If the repressed content in these stories is the fact of colonization, entering the territory as a foreign element, an invader, represents a form of uncanny intrusion through which the disowned past returns. However, in Blackwood’s stories, the characters seek out this memory of disownment. As a form of colonial expiation, Blackwood’s Canadian gothics enact the process identified by Renée Bergland in The National Uncanny, whereby Indigenous ghosts (and monsters) are internalized within the colonizer’s imagination as spectres of both guilt and desire.