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Abstract: This thesis makes a case for archaeology as a technology of settler-colonial domination, based on the in-depth study of one of the most renowned cases of contentious deployment of archaeology for political purposes, the Palestinian village of Silwān in Occupied East Jerusalem. Relying on decolonial theory and methodologies of research, this thesis proposes a radical deconstruction of the discourse about the politics of the past in Palestine, arguing for Zionist deployments of the past for political goals as being not nationalist, as the literature maintains, but settler-colonialist and aimed at the elimination of Palestinians from collective consciousness. This research also proposes a theory of affordances to articulate the relationship between archaeology and political power, reversing the common assumption that the latter univocally exploits the former. Instead, the focus on this research are the unquestioned practices of archaeology and heritage conservation, in which Israeli settler-colonial power finds a ready-made set of supposedly a-political practices through which advance its political goals. The idea that excavations are the most legitimate method to know the past in its material form, and that the antiquities should be object of special measures for protection from decay coincide with settler-colonialism’s interest in land and with its practices of surveillance of the colonised. These nodes of intersection emerged clearly from ethnographic fieldwork through the impacts that they have on the Palestinian residents of Silwān. Through the lens of their narrations, archaeology and heritage conservation emerge as part and parcel of the perpetration of settler-colonial violence.



Abstract: Human geographers have long noted the colonial tropes and frontier imaginaries used to stimulate investment and normalize predatory property speculation within North American cities. Drawing on the insights of indigenous scholars and theorists of settler colonialism, in this article we argue a need to move beyond an analogical deployment of the “frontier” as a mere trope or imaginary and suggest that in settler colonial contexts, like the United States, the frontier and its structuring logic remain an ongoing feature of racial governance and capital accumulation over time. To develop this argument, we examine a genealogy of multiple and heterogeneous cycles of colonization, dispossession, and resistance in Tucson, Arizona. Attending to the racial and racist violence that shapes this history, we consider how the devaluation of nonwhite territorial and economic relations consistently structures urban real estate markets, driving the ongoing displacement and dispossession of communities of color. Viewing the frontier as a structuring logic of racial capitalism (rather than a symbolic motif or metaphorical condition) helps to explain why these racial patterns of dispossession can be observed as a hallmark outcome of processes of gentrification in settler countries like the United States. Meanwhile, through our case study we show how grassroots actors already are using the language of settler colonialism as a framework for naming and analyzing those outcomes just described, indicating a need for greater theoretical work that engages with these grassroots framings and narratives.




Abstract: Although the 1934 Indian Reorganization Act (IRA) was controversial, it undeniably ushered in a new era of governmentality for indigenous people in the United States. The IRA has been debated since its inauguration, but less attention has been paid to the ways in which it is part of an ongoing theorization of Native American modernity. Archie Phinney, a Nez Percé intellectual and activist who studied anthropology at Columbia University under Franz Boas and then later in Leningrad, became one of the few indigenous intellectuals at the time to fuse a Marxist analysis of capitalism and modernity with an indigenous epistemology of sovereignty. In a series of essays, op-eds, seminar papers, and notes, Phinney’s position is that Native Americans have been forcibly conscripted into capitalist modernity and that their question is less whether they can revive the “old ways” than whether they can alter the conditions of domination by capitalism and settler colonialism. Phinney does not reject modernity but instead asks how indigenous people can find a way to remain “alert modern communities” and autonomous democratic subjects. By analyzing Soviet forms of minority nationalism, Marxian theories of history, and modern theories of race, Phinney prefigures what Kevin Bryuneel calls the “third space of sovereignty” by arguing that Native Americans need to find modes of collective economic independence, while also forming alliances with other oppressed groups through autonomous organizations such as the National Congress of American Indians (NCAI), which Phinney helped found. Working within the Bureau of Indian Affairs while at the same time, as an NCAI founder, fiercely criticizing the state, Phinney both lived and theorized a dialectical sense of modernity in his life and writings.