Posts Tagged ‘racism’
I want to I present three interlinked propositions about Vukasín Nedeljković’s Asylum Archive exhibition. Firstly, just like Irish state and society had managed to ignore the workhouses, mental asylums, mother and baby homes, Magdalene Laundries and industrial schools, they also ‘manage not to know’ about the plight of asylum seekers, precisely because direct provision isolates asylum seekers, makes them dependent and makes it difficult for them to organise on a national level. Since ‘managing not to know’, or disavowing, erases the direct provision system from the Irish collective consciousness, I propose that asylum seekers represent the return of Ireland’s repressed, confronting Irish people with their own experiences of e/migration.
The second proposition explores the notion of ‘archive’, defined by Foucault as ‘a storehouse that catalogues the traces of what has been said, to consign them to future memory’, rather than as a ‘library that gathers the dust of statements and allows for their resurrection under the historian’s gaze’ (Agamben 1999: 143).
Thirdly, since residents of the direct provision system have been taking action, protesting and representing themselves, they can no longer be theorised merely as Agamben’s ‘bare life’, at the mercy of sovereign power, and must be regarded as active agents of resistance in their own right.
Managing not to know
Denial, according to Stanley Cohen, is always a paradox. In using the term ‘denial’ to describe a person’s statement ‘I didn’t know’, we have to assume she does know what she claims not to know. The public shock about the revelations since the mid-1990s about the incarceration of unmarried women in ‘mother and baby homes’ and ‘Magdalene laundries’ and about the abuse of thousands of children in Irish ‘industrial schools’ represents a disavowal of something Irish people knew but were repressing.
Ireland has an appalling history of incarceration, having locked up 31,000 people at any given time between 1926 and 1951, or one in every 100 citizens, in mental hospitals, Magdalene laundries, ‘mother and baby’ homes and industrial schools, continuing the legacy of the 1838 Irish Poor Law and the 130 workhouses catering for the destitute poor. This also applied to children – one child in every hundred was enslaved in an industrial school.
Irish institutions of incarceration were located in towns and cities throughout the country which meant that claiming ‘not to know’ was disingenuous. According to Fintan O’Toole, the system served to warn the disobedient: it was family members who forced pregnant daughters into Magdalene Laundries or ‘mother and baby homes’ and the hapless children of ‘bad’ or poor mothers into industrial schools where many were abused. The harm done to the incarcerated also taught ‘a whole society very deep habits of collusion, evasion and adaptation’.
The denial – of what we actually know – can be illuminated by Freud’s work on the unfamiliar or ‘uncanny’: ‘that class of the terrifying which leads back to something long known to us, once very familiar’ which can become uncanny and frightening’. And, he writes, we often repress that which we are afraid of, which is familiar and known to us yet becomes estranged in the process of repression. And the repressed always returns to haunt.
I propose that the 1990s revelations about the Magdalene Laundries and the industrial schools that Irish society was forced to acknowledge was the return of Ireland’s repressed and preceded the choice not to know about asylum seekers dispersed to direct provision centres and living in intolerable conditions, due to their racialization and dehumanisation, removal from sight, and construction as a (financial) ‘burden’.
Like its history of incarceration, Ireland’s refugee reception history is also shocking. Having refused to admit more than 60 Jewish refugees during the Nazi era between 1933 and 1946, Ireland accepted small groups of ‘Programme Refugees’ since 1956. Asylum seekers (‘Convention Refugees’) began arriving in Ireland in the early 1990s and in July 2016 4,208 people, including 1,100 children, were housed in 35 direct provision centres. Many centres are run by for-profit companies costing the state more than 50 million euro per annum.
I propose that Irish people are adopting an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ attitude to asylum seekers in direct provision. The disavowal of asylum seekers’ living conditions makes direct provision centres ‘zones of exception’ which, according to Agamben, positions residents outside the law, between inside and outside. Direct provision centres, like similar ‘state-sponsored enclaves of non-existent rights’, ‘signal a sort of surplus of “bare life” that can no longer be contained within the political order of nation-states’ yet cannot be entirely disposed of, and is thus trapped in between spaces and statuses’. Thus isolated, asylum seekers, like residents of Ireland’s workhouses, mental hospitals, industrial schools, Magdalene laundries and ‘mother and baby homes’, are perched at the edge of Irish life, and disavowed as Irish society ‘manages not to know’ of their existence.
In 2002 I argued that asylum seekers, refugees and migrants represented the return of the repressed for an Ireland reluctant to confront the pain of e/migration. In 2016, with 16 years of direct provision, very low refugee acceptance rates, and with emigration again becoming a major social force – disavowal is again apparent. The familiar of forced emigration is returning to haunt Ireland’s collective consciousness, making Irish people disavow, yet again, the plight of people seeking refuge in their midst. In the process Freud’s familiar becomes unfamiliar, uncanny and frightening, enabling the denial not of what ‘we’ do not know, but of what ‘we’ know only too well.
In the light of Ireland’s disavowal and of ‘managing not to know’ about the direct provision system, I propose that Vukasín Nedeljković’s Asylum Archive is an archive of silence and secrets, challenging Irish society to confront the return of its repressed pain of incarceration and e/migration. Deliberately not representing the humans warehoused by the state in the direct provision centres, this archive of silence nonetheless makes visible these humans, which one might be tempted to theorize as Agamben’s ‘bare life’ – s/he who lives at the mercy of the sovereign state and who can be killed, deported or transferred with impunity, yet whose life is banned from the sacred realm of Irishness.
If Foucault’s archive aims to consign the items archived to future memory rather than simply serve the historians’ gaze, then Asylum Archive does much more. In representing the detritus of the poorhouses of Ireland’s present, the traces of robbed humanity, and the glimpses of the skies of hope and flight, Asylum Archive helps us remember that the humans incarcerated in varying states of deportability, cannot be merely thought of as ‘bare life’ and – in view of their resistance – must be regarded as active agents in their own right.
Beyond ‘bare life’
During 2014 asylum seekers staged a series of protests. Among other things, protesters spoke of inadequate food, of being unable to cook for their families, about management providing out of date, insufficient food served at specific hours and not available out of hours, leaving many children hungry.
Though I initially wanted to theorise asylum seekers as Agamben’s ‘bare life’, inmates in what he calls the ‘camp’ system, a pure space of exception, which ‘distinguishes and separates what is inside from what is outside’, their lives controlled by RIA and its agents – management and staff of the direct provision centres, this theorization was ultimately inadequate, particularly since Agamben’s ‘bare life’ is deeply Eurocentric and ignores race, while the direct provision system is deeply racialized. The disavowal of race ignores the everyday lived experiences of racial discrimination experienced by people seeking refuge from persecution, war, conflict and oppression, at the hands of white Irish state and society.
Furthermore, Agamben’s ‘bare life’ theory posits asylum seekers as passive subjects to whom everything is done, often in arbitrary and violent ways, rather than as active agents of resistance. Indeed, the 2014 protests by asylum seekers, and let me remind you there were also asylum seekers’ protests during the 1990s by ARASI - the Association of Refugees and Asylum Seekers in Ireland, who were taken over by the white Irish SPIRASI – led to the establishment of MASI – Movement for Asylum Seekers in Ireland. The protests demonstrate that theorising asylum seekers in direct provision merely as ‘bare life’ subject to sovereign rule is Eurocentric and that the protests are ‘acts of resistance’ in the best sense of the word.
Together with these protests and the campaigns by a variety of supporters, Asylum Archive, in archiving and making visible the silences and disavowed experiences of asylum seekers in Ireland, means that the repressed is returning to haunt and we can no longer ignore the clear demands made by asylum seekers: end the direct provision system, regularise all residents, and end all deportations.
A couple of days after British referendum on exiting the EU I witnessed a disturbing altercation between two hard working Indian sub-continent migrant owners of a Dublin city centre Spar shop and a bunch of white Irish drunks who were kicking the shop’s door and harassing the owners in an attempt to steal booze. Without being there I was sure that the confrontation had racist undertones (as confirmed to me by the shop owners the following day). It lasted some twenty minutes and was only resolved when the gardai arrived, but it left me wondering whether the racism of the white marauders – like the Nazi graffiti sprayed in the last few days in Northern Ireland – had anything to do with the Brexit vote.
Social media have been abuzz with posts on the Brexit repercussions with much written about David Cameron’s resignation, Labour’s Jeremy Corbyn failure to prevent the exit vote, UKIP leader Nigel Farage and his fascist followers and the implications for Ireland. However, much more significant is the permission the vote has given to racists in Britain and elsewhere in Europe to express their anti-immigrant and anti-minorities toxic views. Read the rest of this entry »
We are all still in deep shock after the brutal massacre at the Pulse gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida where 49 people were slaughtered by Omar Mateen, a Muslim American citizen. Since the massacre, wrongly described by some media as the ‘deadliest’ attack on civilians in recent American history, we are trying to fathom Mateen’s motives in carrying out this atrocious anti-gay crime.
In the current climate, where Muslims and Islam are tagged with ‘extremism’ and ‘radicalism’, it is deeply worrying that two of the US presidential contenders compete in describing Mateen’s atrocity as ‘Islamic’. It is particularly unsettling that the Democratic contender Hillary Clinton has seen fit to say just a day after that the event that she was not afraid to say ‘radical’ Islam as she countered attacks from the Republican contender Donald Trump that she’s too politically correct to use the phrase. ‘From my perspective, it matters what we do more than what we say,’ Clinton said on CNN. ‘And it mattered we got bin Laden, not what name we called him. Whether you call it radical jihadism or radical Islamism, I’m happy to say either. I think they mean the same thing.’ Compare this outburst with President Obama’s reasoned argument that using the meaningless term ‘radical Islam’ tars millions of believers with a racist religious brush: ‘There is no magic to the phrase “radical Islam”. It is a political talking point. It is not a strategy’.
Apparently Mateen was not only a violent husband whose wife escaped his marital brutality by the skin of her teeth, but also a frequent user of the same gay nightclub he attacked and of gay dating websites, so clearly someone with a conflictual sexual orientation. Having also worked for the security firm G4S he was clearly a complex character, whose motives were anything but simply attributable to ‘radical Islam’, despite the rush by many racists, including representatives of the state of Israel, to use the massacre to further incite against Muslims and Islam.
I was thrilled to stand on O’Connell Street on Saturday 6 February as part of a large coalition of people, Irish and migrants, who congregated in front of the GPO to say no to racism and Islamophobia and to counter Pegida Ireland’s plans to hold its inaugural meeting. Pegida stands for ‘Patriotic Europeans against the Islamisation of the Occident’ (in German Patriotische Europaer gegen die Islamisierung des Abendlandes). It was established in October 2014 in Germany, where thousands of neo Nazi fascists have since marched in opposition to Muslim migrants, though the ‘Islamisation’ of the West is of course a figment of the racists’ imagination as Muslims remain a small persecuted minority throughout the West.
Like all far right groupings, including Identity Ireland, Pegida presents itself as defending European values and providing a legitimate opposition to migration. However, it’s worth remembering that the German term Abendlandes derives from The Downfall of the Occident, a 1918 book penned by one Oswald Spengler, whose racist ideas about the division of history into discrete cultures fed Nazi racial superiority that led to the extermination of millions. Read the rest of this entry »
At the end of Easter 2016 week I feel somewhat 1916-ed out. I spent the week watching Insurrection, the wonderful day by day series about the 1916 Rising produced and directed by my late husband Louis for RTE in 1966 and which was re-broadcast for the first time only this year, fifty years after it was made. I also attended exhibitions and other events, and strolled the festive streets of Dublin. Despite the attempts by our right wing (non) government to write out the revolutionary Rising leaders in favour of reformers such as O’Connell, Parnell, Redmond and Grattan, Dublin did itself proud, with streets festooned with flags and shop windows, from banks to souvenir shops, displaying copies of the 1916 Proclamation and pictures of the 1916 leaders.
Historians encouraged us to remember not only the Rising, but also colonial violence and the fact that Ireland was the first small nation to rise against the British Empire. The events made me reflect on the revolutionary zeal of the republican and socialist leaders of the insurrection and wonder what Ireland would have looked like had they not been executed by the British.
The celebrations made me reflect on post 1916 Ireland, left to De Valera, who kept the island divided and collaborated with the Catholic hierarchy to create a reactionary, priest-ridden, anti-women, pro property owners and anti-foreigners Ireland. Read the rest of this entry »