Abstract: This article explores the experiences of First Nations participants as the #BlackLivesMatter protests burst onto Australian mainstream and social media platforms and onto Australian streets in 2020. We explore First Nations participants’ perceptions about the significance and relevance of #BlackLivesMatter in Australia to support First Nations existing political campaigns to address structural racism and settler colonialism in the Australian context. We consider the twin structures of racism and settler colonialism to comparatively analyse the historical experiences of First Nations, in Australia and the US, and Black people in the US in an effort to understand convergences and divergences in the contemporary activist imperatives and aspirations of each group. We conclude by acknowledging that while #BlackLivesMatter activism does have the potential to productively complement First Nations anti-racism activist imperatives and aspirations, it falls short of addressing First Nations anti-colonial imperatives and aspirations.

Description: Throughout world history, the occupation of new territories by settler communities has informed the formation of specific colonial regimes, combining territorial control, the imposition of legal authority, and the eradication of indigenous cultures. The newly developed field of settler colonial studies characterizes these regimes as the elements of a particular structure with an eliminatory logic. While scholars have studied the mechanics of this logic in various modern contexts, the deep historical roots of settler colonial paradigms remain largely unexplored. Connecting experts from the humanities, social sciences, law, and geosciences, this research network aims to unveil the dominant paradigms shaping the historical development and (re)activation of settler colonialism, with a particular focus on the formative or legitimizing role of classical models and classical scholarship in this process. SECOPS explores a series of cases to connect settler colonial practices and imaginaries in antiquity and postclassical contexts. It uncovers long-term developments across time and space by establishing the recurrent paradigms of territorial organization, legal governance, and identity discourse in settler colonial societies worldwide. Innovatively applying the insights of classical reception studies and landscape archaeology to the field of settler colonial studies, SECOPS builds a new interpretative and empirical framework for the interdisciplinary analysis of the organization and impact of settler colonialism.

It’s early 2024, and with the war (a.k.a. genocide) in Gaza, a spate of mainstream outlets discusses settler colonialism. The concept is receiving special attention because it is more and more offered in activist circles and in public discourse as a key to interpret events. The Atlantic and Al Jazeera, and many other outlets delve in (see Michael Powell, ‘The Curious Rise of Settler Colonialism and Turtle Island The problem with shoehorning a Middle Eastern war—or American history—into a trendy academic theory’, The Atlantic, 05/01/24; Somdeep Sen, ‘Settler colonialism is not an “academic fad”: It is a real political project that has scarred the past and present of Indigenous communities around the world’, Al Jazeera, 06/02/24). The New York Times in particular discusses settler colonialism. Epitomising how settler colonial studies is emerging in public discourse (even if it is an obvious distortion), and referring to Israelis and Palestinians Thomas L. Friedman uses the expression ‘two indigenous peoples’ twice in a November 2023 piece calling for a renewed attempt to craft a US-led initiative leading to a two-state solution (Thomas L. Friedman, ‘The Most Revealing Moment From My Trip to Israel’, New York Times, 14/11/23). Friedman later returns to this trope in another piece: ‘two indigenous people — Jews and Palestinians — over the same land’ (Thomas L. Friedman, ‘Understanding the True Nature of the Hamas-Israel War’, New York Times, 2811/23).

The New York Times delves in too. ‘[C]ulture reporter covering intellectual life and the world of ideas’ Jennifer Schuessler is circumspect, and asks actual scholars (Jennifer Schuessler, ‘What Is “Settler Colonialism”?’ New York Times, 22/01/24), but pundit Bret Stephens in early February scathingly attacks the very concept:

‘A former colleague of mine liked to say that there are certain ideas that vanish in the presence of thought. Among those ideas is settler colonialism — or rather, the invidious, hypocritical and historically illiterate way in which it is often denounced in anti-Israel polemics and protests’ (Bret Stephens, ‘Settler Colonialism: A Guide for the Sincere’, New York Times, 06/02/24).

This insincere, invidious, hypocritical and historically illiterate intervention warrants a response. ‘What is settler colonialism?’ Stephens asks, citing the Legal Information Institute’s definition: ‘A system of oppression based on genocide and colonialism that aims to displace a population of a nation (oftentimes indigenous people) and replace it with a new settler population’ (Stephens, ‘Settler Colonialism’). He then further asks: ‘What is settler colonialism as it applies to Israel?’ So far, it is an argument, and it follows a logic, but then things fall apart. Settler colonialism as it relates to Israel is the ‘idea that Israel is a British colonial scheme that aimed to create a Jewish ethno-state by eliminating the native Palestinian society and, crucially, that the only way to right this wrong is to eliminate Israel as a Jewish state’ (Stephens, ‘Settler Colonialism’).

This should be emphasised: Stephens is not saying that the British did not try to create a Jewish ethno-state (he is therefore saying that it is indeed an instance of settler colonialism); he is proclaiming without providing any evidence that all those who refer to settler colonialism when considering the history of Israel-Palestine are demanding that Israel ceases to be a Jewish state (even if what it means to be a Jewish state remains contested). But they do not: they are demanding that it ceases to be a settler colonialist state, which is something momentously different. Or perhaps Stephens is implying that Jews in Israel/Palestine can only be oppressors and settler colonialists? I do not think so, and I am sure he does not think so either.

Then the weirdest thing. After proclaiming that it is a concept that would vanish, Stephen goes on to observe how settler colonialism shaped the history of many very important countries:

‘It’s hard to know where to begin, but here’s a thought: If settler colonialism needs to be eliminated, why not get rid of all settler colonialism? That would start with the United States, which began as a settler-colonialist enterprise under British, Dutch and Spanish rulers, and continued as one under American rule […] What’s true of the United States goes also for Australia, New Zealand and Canada. But why stop there? What are ethnic Russians doing east of the Urals, or in the Caucasus, or in Crimea? What are Han Chinese doing in Xinjiang or Tibet? What are Iberians doing in Latin America? And how did the people, culture and language of the Arabian Peninsula wind up in distant places like Morocco, Tunisia and, for that matter, the Holy Land itself’ (seized by the Rashidun Caliphate from the Byzantines in 637 C.E.)? (Stephens, ‘Settler Colonialism’).

Yes, these are all examples of settler colonialism, except for the last one, which demonstrates Stephens’ historical illiteracy (the expansion of Islam in the seventh century was violent but not settler colonialism, as the local populations of the conquered lands were forcibly subjected but not slated for replacement). So, there is settler colonialism in Israel-Palestine, and there is a lot of settler colonialism in global history – Stephens’ demolition work it is not really effective. Then an unwarranted scare:

‘If you’re an American citizen of non-Native American descent, leave. Leave Hawaii. Leave California. Leave Massachusetts, too. Return to the lands of your ancestors — if they will have you. If not, that’s your problem. If you are allowed to stay, do so under an entirely different form of government, one that isn’t based on the Declaration of Independence or the Constitution. Sign over the deed of your property to the descendants of those dispossessed by past generations of settler colonialists. Live under new rulers, not of your own choosing’ (Stephens, ‘Settler Colonialism’).

Unwarranted indeed: as of today (12/02/24), and since 2010, I have reviewed 5286 scholarly works dealing with settler colonialism. None called for the settlers to leave. What many of these works called for was a discontinuation of a system of oppression that targets Indigenous cultures, lands, and self-determination. Many of the settler societies Stephens refers to have indeed begun processes of national and Indigenous reconciliation, demonstrating that there are indeed many ways out of a settler colonial situation and legacy and that settler departure is not the only option. Talking about a demand to leave that is not uttered while discontinuing decades of global decolonising practice seems like a cheap way to avoid talking about … settler colonialism as a specific mode of domination.

Then an unconvincing reference to settler indigenisation, and a collection of well-rehearsed tropes: Jews have indigenised to Israel (how? – if indigenous person and settler are reciprocally constituted within a system of domination, surely the system must be discontinued for the settler to indigenise); Jews are returning to the place where they have always been indigenous (not so: the Bible narrates the story of a collective constituted elsewhere and of its conquest of Palestine, which makes in nonindigenous by definition). Then again, Stephens perhaps knows that this is the weakest part of his argument, and this is why he concludes in settler colonialist fashion with a reassertion of domination: ‘Israel is justified by being a sovereign state that commands the loyalty of its citizens, not by the precedents of antiquity’ (Stephens, ‘Settler Colonialism’). It is presented as a truism, but let’s dwell a bit on what this latest assertion means. Does Stephens know that approximately half of those who are currently subjected to Israel’s sovereignty are not citizens? Is he implying that they are therefore entitled to withhold their loyalty and that their resistance is legitimate? Does he know that the Indigenous peoples of all the other settler societies are also citizens of their countries? Is he suggesting that Palestinians should become citizens of Israel, and that the country could command their loyalty? I am sure that at this thought, Stephens’ concept would vanish.

But his argument is illiterate in another and very important sense: Indigenous peoples globally and in Israel-Palestine do not claim a return to a time where there were no settlers; they demand a forward movement to a time where the settler demand that they disappear will cease. ‘History’ is indeed ‘lived forward’ (Stephens, ‘Settler Colonialism’). On this point Stephens is right: decolonisation lives in the future.

If certain ideas that vanish in the presence of thought, settler colonial studies is safe with Bret Stephens.

Access the official trailer here.

Abstract: My dissertation, “Intimately Intertwined: Settler and Indigenous Communities, Filipino Women, and U.S.-Japanese Imperial Formations in the Philippines, 1903–1956,” uncovers the little-known history and legacy of Japanese settlements in the U.S. colonial Philippines. It highlights Filipino women and brings out multiple relationships among the two empires, the colony, Filipinas, Japanese settlers, and other diverse residents. I pursue the experiences and perspectives of colonized women to analyze the intertwined nature of U.S. and Japanese imperial formations and the intersections of gender, race, and space-time in the history of settler colonialism. I ask how Filipino women, Japanese settlers, and other diverse—and often marginalized—communities linked the U.S. and Japanese empires and the colonized Philippines.Geographically, my study focuses on Davao Province in southeastern Mindanao. During the U.S. colonial period, Davao developed into a colonial hub of commercial agriculture and home to the biggest Japanese settler community in the Philippines and Southeast Asia before World War II. Mindanao, including Davao, was also home to local Moro and Lumad communities—peoples the U.S. colonial government deemed “non-Christians” and subjugated under Christian Filipinos. To the U.S. empire, the island was a “frontier,” an unsettled land to be developed and civilized. Japanese migration in Davao both enabled and was enabled by the U.S. settler colonial project that promoted the exploitation of natural resources and the conquest of the Lumad and Moro communities (whom I call “tribal” communities, instead of non-Christians) by Americans and Christian Filipinos. The Japanese settler communities, however, also conflicted with the colonial administration over law, land, and frontier development. Pivotal to the shifting dynamics of collaboration and contestation among the three countries and multiple communities were Filipino women. They did not always draw attention from administrators, capitalists, or community leaders, therefore records about both tribal and Christian Filipinas are limited and fragmentary. However, even this fragmentary evidence reveals that tribal peoples, Japanese, other mobile, trans-imperial subjects, and Filipino women were all entangled agents in the interlinked history of U.S. and Japanese imperialisms and Christian Filipino nationalism. My inquiry into intimacies— a wide range of interactions and relationships among the diverse populations surrounding labor, land, violence, sex, marriage, and education— elucidates the complicities, as well as conflicts, among the two empires and the colony. “Intimately Intertwined” offers an alternative way to write, learn, and imagine a history of the U.S. and Japanese empires and the Philippines, by excavating stories of Filipino women and marginalized communities. It analyzes and ultimately refuses the patriarchal powers and Euro-American white centrism that neglects the experiences and perspectives of those people and divides the histories of the three countries. By employing a multi-lingual, multi-sited, and multi-scale approach, I show that the two empires were intimately intertwined by the lives, labors, and intimacies of Filipino women, Japanese settlers, and other diverse residents in Davao. This project will contribute to scholarship on women’s history, imperialism/colonialism, diaspora, indigeneity, race and mixed race, capitalism, and anti-colonial nationalism in the Asia-Pacific region and beyond.

Abstract: Property rights are secure, and violence over land can be attenuated when the treatment and delineation of the property are consistent, stable, and interpreted similarly by each party. In the absence of a mutual understanding of property rights, land-use stability becomes strained as the area of contested land between two rival parties expands—when one party (or group) is perceived as asymmetrically and rapidly accumulating land at another’s expense. While relations between Algonquian tribes and English settlers were generally peaceful in the first half of the 17th century, subsequent colonial growth accelerated and lead to violent conflict. The latter half of the 17th century experienced some of the most devastating conflicts during early colonial American development—beginning with Pequot’s War, peaking during King Philip’s War, and ending with a European proxy war in North America during King William’s War. Using probate data for 72 settlements in New England to measure the growth of farmers as a proxy for colonial territorial growth, I find a general pattern that English settlements with higher rates of population and territorial growth experienced more violent conflict during King Philip’s War. The same relationship between territorial growth and violent conflict was not as strong for wars that preceded and succeeded King Philip’s War.

Description: American freedom is typically associated with the fight of the oppressed for a better world. But for centuries, whenever the federal government intervened on behalf of nonwhite people, many white Americans fought back in the name of freedom—their freedom to dominate others.  In Freedom’s Dominion, prizewinning historian Jefferson Cowie traces this complex saga by focusing on a quintessentially American place: Barbour County, Alabama, the ancestral home of political firebrand George Wallace. In a land shaped by settler colonialism and chattel slavery, freedom became a weapon. With freedom as their cry, white Americans seized Native lands, championed secession, overthrew Reconstruction, questioned the New Deal, and fought against the civil rights movement.  Through a riveting account of two centuries of local clashes between white people and federal authorities, Freedom’s Dominion offers a radically new history of federal power, democracy, and American freedom. This history summons us today to embrace a vigorous model of American citizenship, backed by a federal government that is not afraid to fight the many incarnations of the freedom to dominate.  

Abstract: In this article, the authors examine the systemic nature of state violence and racial terror in the context of the Australian settler state and Indigenous deaths in custody. Drawing on Steve Martinot and Jared Sexton’s (2003) concept of a “double economy of terror,” the authors contend that police violence and Aboriginal deaths in custody must be read in terms of the standard operating procedures of a double economy of terror that ensures the institutional reproduction of the Australian settler colonial state. Death in police custody, Perera and Pugliese argue, is coextensive with the larger governmental and administrative apparatuses of the colonial state. In the face of the settler state’s systemic ignorability of the ongoing racialized violence against Indigenous peoples, the authors conclude their paper opposing such a state with an Indigenous voice that refuses tacit acquiescence and that howls with rage at the mounting Aboriginal deaths in custody and rates of Indigenous imprisonment.

Access the article here.

Excerpt: Within enrollment management, the word “pipeline” is a metaphor used to describe the structures and procedures of a student’s educational journey between two institutions (Pitcher & Shahjahan, 2017). The process of moving through the enrollment pipeline is often facilitated by
articulation agreements—documents outlining course requirements as students transfer from a two-year to a four-year college or university (Anderson, Sun, & Alfonso, 2006). In the past, articulation agreements
served as an enrollment management strategy among many four-year institutions but have evolved due to overall declining student enrollment in the past ten years (Hussar et al., 2020). Interest in creating articulation agreements with local tribal colleges and universities (TCUs) has grown among American four-year institutions as a “pipeline” to increase student enrollment. However, the “pipeline” metaphor—both in nomenclature and practice—is problematic with respect to enrollment management of Indigenous students.