Fanta-sizing Cultures

borderlands e -jo u rn a l w w w .b o rde rla n d s.n e t.a u VOLUME 10 NUMBER 1, 2011 Fanta-sizing Culture Italian soda pop, neocolonial Hawai‘i and the global facialization machine Lorenzo Rinelli University of Hawai‘i at Manoa This article examines the 2006 Fanta advertising campaign for Italy, which employs Hawaiian cultural particularities inscribed in a generic tropical scenario to sell the Fanta soft drink to the world market. Even though the same advertising campaign has been broadcast in more than one country with the same set design and slogan, I consider with particular attention the Italian market-case because of my capacity, not only as a national subject but more importantly as a critic, to read between the lines of Italian language and society. That capacity allows me to raise questions about visual culture as it becomes enlisted in the historical and contemporary practices of representation of distant people and territories. Drawing on Deleuze and Guattari’s work on faciality I aim to show how media promotion of leisure products reinforces the colonial perception of Indigenous cultures, Also, and less obviously, I aspire to comprehend how Transnational Corporations’ (TNCs) advertising allows both the construction and alteration of determinate geographical spaces and cultural practices that eventually become evocative to the potential consumer. Consequently, I am interested in the process of coding that neutralizes Native peoples’ unique geographical and historical expressions. This process I have in mind constitutes the sounding board for the subjectification of the viewer, as stereotypical signs of Native cultures become the referent for commodities. Just as none of us is outside or beyond geography, none of us is completely free from the struggle over geography. That struggle is complex and interesting because it is not only about soldiers and cannons but also about ideas, about forms, about images and imaginings. (Said 1994, p. 7) 1 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 What does the word ‘Aloha’ evoke for you? What does the scene of women in straw-skirts dancing in a circle suggest to you? What does the sound of a word like ‘Humuhumunukunukuapua‘a’ call to mind? I am not recovering here an historical account from the journals and travelogues of Captain Cook in the South Seas; instead the location is Italy, in the centre of the modern first world; the time is 2006 A.D. and the object of my analysis is a Fanta advertising campaign for Italy which employs Hawaiian cultural particularities inscribed in a generic tropical scenario to sell the Fanta soft drink to the world market. Although the same advertising campaign has been broadcast in more than one country with the same set design and slogan,1 I consider with particular attention the Italian market-case because of my capacity, not only as a national subject but more importantly as a critic, to read between the lines of Italian language and society. That capacity allows me to raise interesting questions with regard to visual culture, as it becomes enlisted in the historical and contemporary practices of representation of distant people and territories. What is the relationship to, and difference between, contemporary visual narratives of Indigenous culture and historical colonial representations? Is it still valid today to critically link visual representation of commodities with territorial expansion within global market campaigns as much as we used to treat the functioning of colonial imperialism through narrative critique? To what extent are Transnational Corporations (TNCs) involved in the visualization of Indigenous culture? What is the realm of possibility for liberating these representations and what is its primary direction at present? In the Fantasy Island ‘I personally got somehow moved by the new concept Fanta has cum up with, it has tempted me to drink FANTA in a frequency that was not there before, I find it sweeter and tasty too, I like the concept and though I roughly get the meaning of it, I think broadly speaking, Fanta really got the strategy to re-launch with’. (Posted by, James at May 3, 2006 03:44 PM http://www.adverblog.com/archives/002634.htm) In 2006, Fanta, as part of the Coca-Cola group, launched the new promotional campaign ‘Drink Fanta, Stay Bamboocha’. It featured a ‘Fanta-sy Island-like environment with surreal colours, quick cuts, and a soundtrack worthy of a feature film’.2 The campaign was aggressively disseminated in 60 international markets for broadcast and theatre distribution. The campaign’s strategy opened by establishing the word ‘Bamboocha’ without explaining its etymology. It was represented only as a colorful and noisy link to the product and its brand. ‘Bamboocha’ was tried out in different mediums before Fanta revealed that it was the basis of their campaign; after markets were tested with respect to this new term, Fanta rolled out short clips depicting the adventures of two cartoon-like happy Kanaka Maoli,3 Jimmy Humuhumunukunukuapua‘a, and Little Brother in different locations of a Fanta-sy island. Through the different episodes of this 2 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 neocolonial ‘Fanta-sy’ we learn how to behave when invited for a luau4 (Hawaiian feast), how to enjoy the eruption of the Volcano without any harm, and are instructed to calm down like Jimmy and Co. if ‘real’ savages,5 depicted with feathers and spears, capture us in a woven trap. While I will examine more extensively the most salient elements of Jimmy’s adventures throughout the article, it is worth noting here that, notwithstanding clear references to Hawaiian culture, all episodes are pervaded by a psychedelic ambience resembling a ‘Summer of Love’ dream whose traits and gleaming colors aim to specifically target young adults (and perhaps nostalgic, aging hippies). The inclusion of a ‘psychedelic’ background has the effect of ‘fading away’ the Hawaiian immanence while still making use of it semiotically as just another visual layer. Therefore we should not be surprised to see Japanese post-punks, a Mexican masked luchador, and feathered savages on Jimmy’s VW Type 2 Transporter while they scamper through the island. The different episodes develop the meaning of the campaign’s key term ‘Bamboocha’ and link it to the soft drink. Apparently more than a word, Bamboocha entails an entire lifestyle. In the words of the Marketing manager of Coca-Cola Tanzania, Carol Mbaga, ‘the “Fanta Bamboocha” philosophy … creates an alternative world where people live life and in their own terms’.6 Leaving aside the incongruity of such a concept especially when the target is the African audience, we are eventually told that Bamboocha has a Hawaiian Pidgin (also known as Hawaii Creole English) origin meaning ‘huge’ or ‘enormous’. From here it is a short step to relate it to an existence that can only be lived fully by drinking Fanta. The Viewer’s Anxiety The many episodes that constitute the whole Fanta saga on the Hawaiian Islands, mixes different stereotypes related to tropical environments to describe Hawai‘i and employs specific elements of the Hawaiian culture, such as the Volcano, the Ocean, the sense of Community during a lu‘au, the Hula, and the word ‘Bamboocha’ to sell a product, the Fanta soft drink. Within the Fanta parody, even the Humuhumunukunukuapua‘a—the fish symbol of the Hawaiian archipelago—is rendered as a nickname for Jimmy, the cheerful protagonist of many Fantadventures. What are the implications for visual representations of different Indigenous cultures within contemporary corporate marketing strategies? How does the interaction of corporate thinking and visual media tools affect forms and practices of Indigenous culture? Indigenous cultures, that is, cultures before and beyond contemporary capitalism, are reinterpreted by the observer, a director of commercials in this case, who explicates native life in a way that merely reflects his own naturalized framework of values. When we 3 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 follow this scenario, then, the ‘post’ within the ‘postcolonial’ time we are living, seems to be a misleading grammatical prefix for aspects of colonial discourse that are still valid and present (Ahmad 2003). Today, postcards, magazines, TV commercials and tourism advertisements employ a myth of distant Paradises characterized by exotic sensuality and subservient native hospitality. Hotel brochures from Jamaica to Thailand, all the way through Kenya and Tahiti, promise royal treatment, featuring images of wealthy Caucasians served by, in Deleuze and Guattari’s terms (1987, p. 167), ‘facialized’ dark-skinned waiters, who are ready to honour their every request. It is confirmation, if ever it was needed, that striking ideological structures always supports territorial dominance and colonialism. These ideologies are articulated through images, sounds and language into a system, which shapes the relation between the dominating and the dominated (Soguk 2003). With particular reference to Hawai‘i, the process of facialization of the Kanaka Maoli effaced histories of resistance which counteract the dominant narrative of the docile savage (i.e. the idea that Hawaiians accepted passively the loss of their land). Certainly this process led to Kanaka Maoli’s cultural displacement, which is often the necessary corollary of territorial domination. The Fanta marketing campaign broadcast all over the world is a logical effect of this long-imposed silence. Indeed I believe that history and geography, memory and map are never separated. It is worth noting here how the first encounter with Captain Cook has often been described as joyful and friendly, and that most of those descriptions rely on British accounts, ignoring the Hawaiian sources (Silva 2004, p. 16). This attitude, articulated throughout this entire scene, is quite familiar to the viewer of the Fanta-sy world because it is impressed in our imagination after years of unavoidable colonial visualization of Hawaiian culture. A scene of happy natives greeting visiting tourists has been represented and re-enacted countless times since the arrival of the first tourist. It has been used to advertise cruise liner travel to Hawai‘i since the 1920s and is currently re-enacted every day at the International Airport of Honolulu, when happy tour operators rush from gate to gate greeting tourist groups with leis and warm Aloha. The same idea of hospitable natives is the core message within the advertisement I am analyzing. How can one refuse to drink something promoted by naïve and (in)fanta-lized inhabitants of this Wonderland? For inhabitants of the Italian peninsula, the images used in the advertisements evoke stories of tall, tanned, good-mannered savages who live in grass huts, eat fish, wear leaf costumes and play stereotypical Hawaiian music. Standard ukulele7 tunes are the soundtrack for the various clips throughout the Fanta campaign. As much as the word Aloha, the peculiar sound of ukulele functions as a sort of blank screen on which the idea of Hawai‘i-ness is inscribed. It provides the Fanta-sy land soundscape for the promotion of Fanta refreshment. 4 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 Ironically, contemporary Italian society reveals an unresolved postcolonial anxiety. Its preoccupation with whiteness dates back to the racist theories of Lombroso at the end of the nineteenth century, which originated from the school of Meridionalisti (Southernists). In his important analysis of the colonial dimension of Italian unification, Joseph Pugliese reminds us that the school’s members labored assiduously to ‘ground their theories of southern congenital inferiority in forms of scientific-biological racism’ (2008, p. 2). Today new forms of exclusion operate internally: transnational market forces and new racial hierarchies function to naturalize ‘Northern capitalist whiteness’ as the gold standard. Located outside this idea is contemporary Italian society, variegated and multicoloured, whose biopolitical apparatus and colonial foundations remain to be examined. Italian governments, from both left and right political orientations, have systematically opposed academic initiatives, such as the 1996 International History Conference in Addis Abeba (Ababa), organized to bring to light over 60 years of Italian colonial enterprise in Africa. This attitude has facilitated a historical revisionism that has helped to generate and sustain the myth of ‘decent’ Italian colonialism. Even Hannah Arendt, who wrote probably the most influential book on the origin of totalitarian regimes in the last century, stated: ‘[Mussolini’s fascism] up to 1938 was not totalitarian, but just an ordinary nationalist dictatorship developed logically from a multiparty system’ (cited in Ahmida 2005, p. 35). One could agree with her differentiation of two forms of dictatorship. However, her perspective, naturally embedded in the prevailing Eurocentric attitude in the academy, nourished the idea of the bland nature of Italian fascism and thus effaced the devastating consequences of its colonial enterprises. Furthermore, it is worth noting how, in the US at the time of the Africa campaigns, the official and popular image of fascism was mostly positive, focusing on Mussolini who represented a needed solution to a country lacking discipline and work ethic and an effective anticommunist ideology in a political arena which had the largest communist party in Western Europe.8 Nowadays a massive revisionist campaign in defense of fascism performed by the Italian right wing party ‘Alleanza Nazionale’ (National Alliance) produces a sort of diffuse amnesia concerning what Italian colonialism was and what it represented for the reality of thousand of Semites other than Jews, namely Libyans, Ethiopians and Somalis. In spite of being geographically narrow, Italian colonialism was second to none in terms of brutality, from bombing of civilians to the use of chemical warfare (Boca 1996). At the same time, the Italian colonial enterprise was marked by burning defeats (see Adwa, Ethiopia, 1 March, 1896) that exposed a deep underestimation of, and frequent contempt for, the enemy. The lack of academic and social debate about its colonial campaigns left a permanent stain within Italian society: a society that still finds broadcasts of denigratory visual representations of other cultures perfectly acceptable. 5 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 What are the differences and similarities between representations such as the Fanta advertisements and Italian colonial modes of visual representation that followed military enterprises in Africa? Is there any resemblance to the violent process of unification of Italy at the end of the nineteenth century? Even if this is only tangential to this project, I hope that my contribution will open future conversations on historical and cultural dimensions of the Italian colonial enterprise that are largely unknown to Anglophone readers. Welcome to the Machine Drawing on Deleuze and Guattari’s work on faciality, I aim not only to show how media promotion of leisure products reinforces the colonial perception of Indigenous cultures, but also to grasp how TNCs’ advertising orients both the construction and alteration/facialization of certain spaces and social practices to render them evocative to an outsider. An intricate web of visible and audible signs, together with topographic surveys to map and domesticate the unknown, always sustained the Western colonial enterprise. Today TNCs, like former state and trading companies, desire to render the geographical space governable, or better, marketable. Virtually no terrae incognitae are left, so the colonial desire to measure and tame populations and their territory has turned its attention towards the face as the frame on which the neocolonial desire designs its immanence. This process, as explicated in Deleuze and Guattari’s theorization of European racism, is originated by the abstract machine of faciality (visagéité), which they argue ‘never detects the particles of the other … [but instead] propagates waves of sameness until those who resist identification have been wiped out … or allow themselves to be identified at a given degree of divergence’ (1987, p. 178). What exactly is visagéité and what is its relation with the Fanta advertising campaign we are discussing in this article? First of all, we find that the term indicates a machine that is intangible and conceptual. The machine produces faces, which do not remind you of the machine because they are different. The mechanisms by which the machine operates are subtle. The faces of the two Hawaiian protagonists of the advertising campaign resemble neither the product nor the corporation. The machine does not operate by resemblance because, as we said, it is abstract; as such, it operates ‘according to an order of reason’ (1987, p. 170). The order is the order of TNCs and sustains the economy and the organization of advertising hegemony. Thus the face is related to the assemblage of power that exists before the code and it is the condition of possibility for both the sign and the subject. The theoretical insights of Deleuze and Guattari in their conceptualization of the abstract machine of faciality are crucial to comprehend the specific assemblages of power operated by advertising corporations. Through the concept of visagéité we are able to read how TNCs impose certain combinations of signs to ‘crush 6 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 all polyvocality’ (1987, p. 180). This alignment of the code is totally arbitrary and colonial, as it does not pay attention to the Indigenous voices and bodies. It triggers the machine, which produces faces, which conversely generate new signifiances and subjectifications. The idea of faciality can therefore help one to understand, on the one hand, how certain individuals (in this case, the viewers) constitute themselves by absorbing patterns that are suggested and imposed. On the other hand, the theorization proposed by Deleuze and Guattari sheds light on how different semiotics, polyvocal and ‘primitive’ (that is, antecedent), are overwritten and wiped out (1987, p. 180). In this sense ‘the face is politics’ (1987, p. 181). The racist component of this process is obvious and almost redundant to mention. What is more interesting to me is that Deleuze and Guattari position the face at the intersection between signifiance and subjectification. Signifiance cannot exist without a white wall where it draws its own symbols and marks. The face of the two Hawaiians takes shape on the white wall of the TV screen and at the same time builds the wall that the signifier, the Fanta Corporation in this case, ‘needs in order to bounce off of’ (1987, p. 168). If it appears straightforward to intend signifiance as the ‘regime of signs’ (1987, p. xviii) sketched by TNCs upon the screen of TV commercials, subjectification does not refer to the face that speaks and acts on the white screen. The center of subjectification is neither that of the Hawaiians nor of any other Indigenous individual. Instead it is that of the naturalized, European-descended individual, pursuing his neocolonial Fanta-sy. Along these lines, the face, that of two clownish Hawaiians in the Fanta commercial, works as ‘resonating chamber’ for the spectator’s realization and desire. A broad face, that of the two Hawaiians, with four wide eyes as black holes in which the subjectification of the viewer ‘lodges its consciousness, passion and redundancies’ (1987, p. 167). The second important property we discover when we analyze Deleuze and Guattari’s concept of visagéité is that the face is interrelated to landscape. ‘The face is a map’ (1987, p. 170) but so too is the body and all of its particularities. Its traits sketch the contours of the contemporary TNCs’ cartography of Hawai‘i and reterritorialize the Indigenous peoples of the islands as existing only as one-dimensional caricatures. Therefore the volcano, the forest and the ocean—all of these geographical elements—serve as much as the two caricatures of Hawaiians to organize the code imposed by the Fanta Corporation. The facialized landscape thus excludes the history of disposition and dislocation of Hawaiians to impose a safe, generic tropical scenario for the subjectification of the viewer. The abstract machine of faciality allows us to comprehend the mechanisms through which the TNCs are today the major players of those arenas where consent, the most essential requirement of hegemony according to Gramsci, is formed and diffused. Nowadays, 7 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 TNCs produce things and words, influencing culture, language and structure in a long-term strategy, first delineated in the period of European colonial expansion. In other words, I am interested in the visual process that alienates representations of colonized Native people from a unique geographical and historical memory, as the circulation of stereotypical signs of their culture become the referents of commodities. This schizophrenic social condition is the prolongation of the colonizer’s traditional insistence in measuring degrees of difference from the colonized; the notion of the savage is conceptualized as a deviance in relation to the white civilized man, hence as the raison d’être of colonial values. What we call colonial discourse is not an unambiguous and monolithic system of description, but a series of enduring colonial approaches, a rationality that continuously adapts to different historical periods. The portrayal of tropical paradise as promoted by Fanta Inc., within its specificity, takes us back to the early stages of Western imperial expansion. Where there was once a writer, there is now a director, and both acquire an ethical position in regard to their own cultures and the Other’s. From Idealization to Negation to (In)fanta-lization As one looks to numerous works of the Romantic movement, nothing is more striking than the idea that Indigenous people were less a real and living presence, and more of a symbolized abstract ideal whose purpose was to represent the visionary and ideal antithesis of the growing industrial society of Europe. For instance, Herman Melville’s Typee (1846) is one of those works in which the primitive and natural paradise of the Pacific acts as a stage for a Romantic censure of the utilitarian ideology of the European industrial middle class. Melville’s story is filled with native girls bathing ‘in natural swimming-pools, springing buoyantly into the air, [and revealing their naked forms to the waist] … their eyes sparkling like drops of dew in the sun, and their gay laughter pealing forth at every frolicsome incident’ (p. 108). Typee offers a visionary reverse of the Western male-based society, in that case constituting another use that can be made of the savage in the realm of Western cultural production. Melville’s idealization of Pacific culture, notwithstanding his criticism of the Western industrialized way of life, is basically conservative as a result. In fact the Pacific primitivism depicted in the memoirs of the protagonist Tommo, constituting the precise reverse of occidental capitalism, lives and exists within the same capitalism. ‘During my whole stay on the islands,’ Tommo marvels, ‘I never witnessed any quarrel, or anything that in the slightest degree approached even to a dispute. The native appeared to form one household, whose members were bound together by the ties of strong affection’ (1846, p. 230). How has this come about? ‘No money!’ Tommo cries, ‘That root of all evil was not to be found in the valley’ (1846, p. 146). 8 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 What characterized those paradisiacal dreams is that they all take place in relation to the Western culture itself which, as in any facialization machine, is the unmarked center around which signs and subject are made to revolve. Even though Melville finds much to challenge the world he knows, often providing a satiric commentary on the Western construction of indigeneity, he nevertheless looks at Indigenous culture with Western eyes. In more than one instance Melville, like Fray Bartolome’ de Las Casas before him, refers to the native as a child. Much like Las Casas’ previous condemnation of the conquest of America, even these idealized representations—instead of opening a new conversation in a different language—only enlarge the territory of Western discourse, and thereby transform the native into nothing else than the auditor of a monologue. Indeed, is this not the reason why the narrator Tommo, at the end of Typee, resists being tattooed and eventually escapes? Although Tommo wants to be a part of the Polynesian world, ultimately he clings too tightly to his identity to truly join the tribe of Typees. Is it not because he fears that he would then lose what Deleuze and Guattari would describe as the face of White Man, ‘himself’, such that the cannibal identified at a given degree of divergence from it would eventually devour his identity? The tattoo ‘embraces the multidimensionality of bodies’ (1987, p. 176). It represents an irrevocable transformation of identity, perhaps the beginning of a true dialogue, definitely the loss of the (Western) privilege to enjoy the pleasure of the valley while still resisting contamination. However, the contamination between the homo ferus and the savage (homo salvaticus) was already there (on this point see endnote 5) as it was linked since the beginning to the fact that the cultivated land where the homo ferus dwells comes into existence once the forest (silva) is cleared and the savage is tame. For different reasons, both the Romantic representations and those emerging during the period of Totalitarianisms in Europe differ from contemporary TNCs’ visual representations. Only now, within the contemporary capitalist discourse, the elements of faciality fully interpenetrate without any element being more or less powerful than the other. As a result, the facialization of the Hawaiians in the Fanta advertisement (but the same applies to Typees) is not an appendix to the European subject. It is its condition of possibility. When we consider the practice of narrative in the time between the two World Wars, we note a different approach. During the period of totalitarianisms in Europe between the two World Wars the Romantic approach of idealization of the savage was abandoned. Western societies adopted a rhetorical strategy of negation to designate the Other as emptiness in order to clear a space (the forest) for colonialist ventures. As Ngũgĩ Wa Thiong’o has put it, ‘the biggest weapon wielded and actually daily unleashed by imperialism … is the cultural bomb. The effect of a cultural bomb is to annihilate a people’s belief in their names, in their languages, in their environment, in their heritage of struggle, in their unity, in their capacities and ultimately in themselves’ (1986, p. 3). 9 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 In Italy, for instance, Mussolini’s politics of expansion in Africa performed a systematic negation of the Other’s cultural existence. In the Fascist delirium of almightiness, individual instances of African Courage and Beauty were reduced to mere tools of propaganda. Since those days, an ‘ebonic splendor’ in the semblances of an African girl matches the relish of a good coffee in the collective Italian imaginary. Walking the narrow streets of medieval villages in Italy, one may still glimpse old logos of coffee brands hanging outside of some cafés that display a striking African girl who invites you with a smile to enter and taste a cup of that coffee she holds in her hand. Those visual representations became part of the cultural heritage engraved in the Italian society once the Fascist regime attempted to participate in the scramble for Africa. Songs and images of those years are still present within the contemporary Italian society and, in my opinion, constitute the fecund background for the uncritical response to the Fanta advertising campaign. Notwithstanding important differentiations, there are enough elements within the Fanta advertisement that confirm a line of continuity, a signifying chain between yesterday and today, at least in the case of an Italian viewership. Attending carefully to the Fanta commercial allows us to further expand our reflection on hegemonic Italian identity, politics and culture beyond the colonial (1882-1943) time period. The seeds of colonial exploitation and discrimination, which characterized the dictatorship between the two world wars, were sown during the violent process of unification of the Italian peninsula in 1861. As clearly emerges from Gramsci‘s Southern Question, the descent to the South by the Piedmont’s royal forces was viewed as a process of colonization as well as one of discovery (Gramsci 2005). Italian national discourse has thus from its inception been articulated along colonial lines, which have marked the Italian socio-cultural identity with a continuing internal racism that persists today. A short stay in Italy would be sufficient to comprehend how Africa, or better, an idea of Africa, continues today to serve as a metaphor through which most Northerners make sense of the South, along a clear line of continuity that begins at the time of consolidation of the Italian national entity, passes through the dictatorship of the Fascist regime, and arrives today within the rooms of Parliament with the presence of the Northern League Party. ‘From the beginning, then, the so-called questione meridionale (Southern Question) encoded a set of racialized presuppositions in which the whiteness of the North operated as a priori, in contradistinction to the problematic racialized status of the South, with its dubious African and Oriental histories and cultures’ (Pugliese 2008, p. 3). The effects of Italian colonial history, internal as well as external, have not been acknowledged in a thoughtful way yet. Nor have the importance of the violent practices of colonization in contemporary Italian culture, and the complex connections between race, colonialism and consumer capitalism, been taken into consideration. I briefly point this out here in part to problematise the abstracted idea of Italy and Italians as a monolithic 10 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 entity on the other side of the TV screen, as well as to highlight the link between face and subject. But even beyond the specificity of the targeted audience, we can discern how the presence of hula girls repeats the allegorization of colonies in the form a female figure that has been a facialized cliché of the colonial history of dominium. At the beginning of the Twentieth century a French writer saw Laos as ‘swooning like a lascivious lover, between the arms of her river and her stream, drunk with pleasure at the flanks of her burning mountains’ (quoted in Spurr 1993, p. 172). The erotic language of this metaphor symbolizes a sort of penetration by the colonizer. It sanctions a union with the colonized entity that is seen as having a salutary effect on the naturalistic excesses of the colonized. Once more, we understand how the body is a map to read and re-write, or better, nowadays, to digitalize. It is through the metaphor of the body that landscape is perceived: ‘bodies are disciplined, corporeality dismantled, becoming-animal hounded-out, deterritorialization pushed to a new threshold’ (Deleuze & Guattari 1987, p. 181). Once more the forest is cleared, its polyvocality crushed, while the savage is tamed to open a path to the imperialism of TNCs’ semiotics. In images of present-day Hawai‘i, and within the Fanta commercial, the hula girls embody the metaphor of sexuality, hospitality and availability, or even prostitution in the words of the Indigenous Hawaiian activist and scholar Haunani-Kay Trask (1993). They serve as classic figures of exotic and charming adventure in the South Seas. The Hawaiian music and the dance with its gestures and poetry still represent today the delicate soundtrack of an enduring colonial imaginary, played on repeat since the beginning of the first encounter. The 1893 overthrow (Silva 2004) of the Hawaiian kingdom and subsequent American annexation of the Hawaiian Archipelago is only one element of the colonization of Kanaka Maoli that reaches completion through visual representation. It is not possible to present here a complete account of illustrative portrayals of Hawai‘i even only on the silver screen: the Academy Award-winning From Here to Eternity (1953) and Mutiny on the Bounty (1962), or weekly TV shows like Hawaii Five-O9 (1968-1980, CBS) and Magnum P.I. (1980-1988, CBS), as well as Hollywood blockbusters like The Hawaiians (1970), Jurassic Park (1993) and Waterworld (1995), just to indicate some of them. What is worth noting is the load capacity of the cultural bomb that TNCs’ visual representations bring with them and the magnitude of the devastating consequences in terms of memory and history. Within hegemonic visual representations the Archipelago of Hawai‘i is disarticulated from historical perspectives other than the dominant ones so that it can be used as a kind of screen upon which to inscribe signs. The bomb’s devastation endures in terms of both sounds and places, working at the levels of linguistic and visual metaphor. Within these representations Kanaka Maoli are either completely absent, or they reflect the light and resonate the sounds that each director, working within some TNC, considers most appropriate. 11 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 Language has always, and in every corner of the exploited world, been an effective tool to reproduce racial and cultural dominance; hegemonic discourse seeks to establish superiority while effacing the Other. For the ‘civilized’ subject, the meaning of his/her own identity is confirmed in depictions of Indigenous people badly simulating Western languages. Because this meaning is revealed only in the savage’s attempts at imitating it, language serves as an auditory support to the facialization machine’s thrall.10 With particular reference to the Italian version of the clip, much like in films from the 1950s in which white actors played in blackface, Jimmy comes out dubbed in poor Italian, characterized by consistent use of the infinitive as a clear indication of the native’s savagery. Here we can recall Deleuze and Guattari’s suggestion that, in addition to its purely visible dimension, ‘the face is a veritable megaphone’ (1987, p. 179), but it is also true that the ‘authenticity’ of the language, its intonation and its tempo, sketches the silhouette of the subject constructed in tune with the imagination of the listener. Language carries out crucial information that allows ‘for the signifying elements to become discernible, and for the subjective choices to be implemented’ (1987 p. 180). Hence, an attentive analysis of the language employed tells us more about the audience to whom it is directed than about the bodies to which it ostensibly relates. A propos we must keep in mind the genealogy of the Italian linguistic identity shaped after the colonial invasion of the South. At that time, Tuscan became the state language and all other languages and dialects were outlawed. Thus a monumental and hegemonic linguistic maneuver not only determined the correct way of being Italian; at the same time, it also relegated other languages and cultures to inferior, more primitive levels—to the extent that they departed from the orthodox and hegemonic linguistic structure. A perception of inferiority or exoticism with regard to Italian dialects persists today within the national consciousness. What, then, is the effect for the Italian audience of listening to the in-fanta-lized protagonists of the Fanta ad attempting to formulate correct sentences in Italian? The absence of necessary grammatical elements (such as prepositions) in some of the dialogues signifies an intrinsic difficulty to manage the Western (in this case Italian) language and signifies a position of inferiority. The margins of error in managing the Italian language correspond proportionally to degrees of savagery for the Hawaiian characters. Therefore Jimmy and Little Brother’s inarticulateness stabilizes and connects the elements of the story with the Coca-Cola Corporation’s strategic choices. Indeed, the subject of grammar deserves further attention. As the story proceeds, Jimmy nicely articulates the word ‘Aloha’ so that the set is defined geographically rather than merely psychologically. Nowadays, Aloha is used in Hawai‘i as a word of greeting. For Hawaiians, however, it contains a whole code of manners and holds an entire synthesis of values (kaona); it denotes a whole ‘structure of feeling’ (Raymond Williams 1977, p.133) and can be understood as the identification of divine breath around and within us. Accordingly, the term indicates the exchange or sharing (alo) of life breath or energy (ha) (Pukui & Elbert 1986). Unfortunately, like the Hula and 12 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 other crucial elements of the Hawaiian culture that are repetitively exploited, the word Aloha has a different economy in the rhetoric of destination marketing that works according to economic values. As Soguk remarks, ‘inclusion and domestication are inherent to the same rhetoric of appropriation, which carries within it the displacement of authentic motives’ (2003, p. 43). The purpose is to create an appropriate yet still nonspecific scenario, which recalls prospects of tropical holiday and relaxation while enjoying an exotic thirstquencher. The process of oversimplification is displayed well in the images of the advertisement: the coconut trees, the painted and feathered savages, and the woven trap work side by side with signs characteristic of Hawaii such as the hula girls and the sound of the name Aloha. These images are a-geographical in that they refer to a generic tropical realm and at the same time parochial in their scope to sell the product: indeed, they are expressive of that which Marc Auge (1995) refers to as ‘non-places’. From geography to geology: in another scene, the director sets a stage in which the two protagonists admire the sublime show of the Volcano erupting, comfortably lying down, while leisurely drinking Fanta. The Volcano is the last and most relevant element of the Hawaiian tradition which is utilized in the segment to promote the brand. The Volcano area of Hawai‘i is one of the most popular tourist attractions in the islands. The volcanic area is totally re-texualized from the Euro-American perspective which has been delineated after 200 years of struggle to determine which rhetorical discourse applies to this fundamental element of Hawaiian culture. Missionaries, and now volcanologists, have constructed representations completely independent and heedless of local beliefs, and have incorporated distinct Hawaiian places with all other volcanoes present in the world. Indeed as one scholar has noted: The rhetoric of volcanology claims there are orderly, ‘natural forces’ that exist independent of both selves and ancestors. (Wood 1999, p. 68) 13 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 Even if traditions, like that of Pele, related to the Volcano have survived 200 years of colonization, a rhetoric of possession still attempts to appropriate loci and ideas, beliefs and traditions, and to adapt them to modern arenas of marketing. The adaptation in this case features a generic tropical scenario of an imaginative beautiful paradise whose inhabitants would speak the same broken Italian we heard several times resonate from African-American and Native American bodies. A concrete territory is appropriated, transformed and produced in a combination of symbols and lines whose origin is by now hard to locate. Deleuze and Guattari explain that a human head is not necessarily a face because ‘a face is produced only when the head ceases to be part of the body’ (1987, p. 170). Within this advertisement the facialization is so predominant within Fanta’s representation of Hawaiians that no body can surface. This is a process of deterritorialization and reterritorialization of the Hawaiians’ heads and bodies as their historic and cultural trajectories have been rubbed out by the face. One element, the generically constructed face, signifies the lost territory of those who have been unable to defend it from encroaching populations. Like children, Jimmy and his little brother appear adorable while being clumsy and harmless. This representation resonates with the rationale of those American politicians and businessmen who overthrew the Hawaiian government at the end of the 19th century because ‘it was their sense that the King … [and] the entire government [were] a foolish and comic apparatus without [American] leadership and control’ (Osorio quoted in Silva 2003, p. 126). The facialization of Jimmy and Little Brother’s bodies and the landscape around them brings to light what they lack: historicity or immanence. Reality and fiction merge to define new spaces and design new maps: if ‘the face is a map’ (Deleuze & Guattari 1987, p. 170) then the Fanta-sized visualization provides Hawaiians with a Europeanized face to sketch the new outline of the Hawaiian Archipelago, a process of paysagéité. Historicity That does not mean that the inscription process of the contemporary Native operated by a director through the camera lens is itself ahistorical; only its intent is. The use of what Deleuze and Guattari call a white wall, which is the container of any visual representation (in this case it paints a standard tropical scenario), belongs to that mental process that consists of ignoring what makes a particular territory unique, while incorporating the inhabitants along with others that, always from a single point of view, appear to share some traits or qualities or even diverge. ‘There must not be any exterior: no nomad machine, no primitive polyvocality must spring up, with their combinations of heterogeneous substances of expression. Translatability of any kind requires a single substance of expression’ (1987, p. 179). 14 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 In this sense the representation of otherness in the Fanta advertisement is historical. It is historical precisely because it neither changes nor disputes the characteristics of the represented group, and performs this act of universalizing here and now. Even if the childlike Native represented by Jimmy and his little brother in the Fanta advertising campaign brings to mind the savage of the mature European colonialism of the late nineteenth century, it equally recalls the Negro in the United States during slavery, and it can be translated into Italy where the commercial was broadcast at the beginning of the 21st century. As Pieterse has noted, ‘there is no Archimedean point, no objective position beyond history from which historical processes of imagining and othering can be monitored and interpreted’ (Jan Nederveen Pieterse 1995, p. 226). Not only is it possible to assign the faciality machine a date: it is imperative to historicize it. In other words, however similar these semiotics are in asserting their imperialism, the semiotics of contemporary late Capitalism in Italy are different from their compatriots and predecessors and must be singled out. A de-historicized analysis may produce a static vision of both Western and non-Western cultures. Consequently, it may reinforce a structuralist analysis that ultimately imposes binary representations and erases diversities. Even if some contemporary Western visual manifestations prolong an endeavor begun at the dawn of colonialism to crush all other semiotics, it is now that ‘the semiotics of capitalism has attained this state of mixture in which signifiance and subjectification effectively interpenetrate’ (1987, p. 182). The machine reached its optimum: the elements that complement the face, black holes/white wall—signifiance/subjectification, fully intermingle and plug into the other in a myriad of combinations. Therefore multiple faces, a multiplication of eyes that adapt to different markets and different viewers. Along these lines, it is important to read the Fanta advertising campaign in all its elements: location - moment in time black holes and white wall. As a matter of fact, while we can recognize lines of continuity within different hegemonic representations of colonized people in Western popular culture, the Fanta advertising campaign broadcast in 2006 is marked by its historicity and hegemonic visual representations that summon up a single project of crushing polyvocality that may be dissonant to the imposed assemblage. In the case of the advertisement, Fanta as a transnational corporation launched a global campaign that featured Hawaiian particularities to be adapted to different markets and audiences. According to Avid.com, a website specializing in High Definition video technology: The international scope of the campaign was a major consideration in terms of project organization and workflow. For example, because individual markets required different bottles with their own labeling and design, some scenes were shot six times, each with different takes of the various bottles. (Avid n.d.) Accordingly, the hegemonic project shifts and adapts to different modalities that indicate changes in global relations and patterns. In this sense, even if 15 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 it is rarely paired with Deleuze and Guattari, we can still refer to the Gramscian treatment of hegemony, which suggests a complex problematic that involves consent and coercion, as well as political leadership, authority and legitimacy. In the present, the fracas of hegemony may be found in the relationship between economic society and civil society, both within and across nation-states, that imposes certain facializations in material and visual culture. As a consequence, the Gramscian notion of hegemony can be applied to show that it was a political and economic congruence between States (and leading elements drawn from their civil societies) which determined an ideological shift towards neo-conservatism in politics and neo-liberalism in economics. Indeed, when we introduce the issues of power and hegemony into our examination of neo-liberal forms of economic globalization and neo-imperialism, we end up delineating a hegemonic bloc of forces that exercises dominance over apparently fragmented populations—as in the case of Hawaiians—by visual means unknown before. These forces are those that write the main text of interpretation of practices that are meaningful to outsiders: a narrative which I would define as the most subtle ‘thick description’. In the postcolonial epoch, this neoimperialistic bloc can be conceptualized as a: Market-based transnational free enterprise system, dependent for its conditions of existence on a range of state-civil society complexes. (Gill 2000, p. 83) It is both ‘outside’ and ‘inside’ the state: it forms part of the ‘local’ and ‘global’ political structures and has as its central purpose the intensification of the discipline of capital within the neo-liberal State and civil society. Thus, this transnational historical bloc’s nucleus is formed, notwithstanding significant local variations, largely by elements of the G8s, state apparatuses and transnational capital. They are the protagonists of a new imperialist exploitation, one that, as Deleuze and Guattari suggest, has the face as protagonist. However, if we consider visual culture as an ensemble of texts, a reading over the symbols expressed by Fanta’s advertising allows us to outline a remarkable feature of contemporary world society: a continuous concrete deterritorialization and reterritorialization that operates by way of the obliteration of heads and bodies, but facialization of people and territories. Indeed, everyday life has increasingly come to be premised upon or pervaded by market values, representations and symbols, as time and distance are apparently minimized by scientific-technological innovation, by hypermobility of financial capital and information flows. At the same time commercialization has configured more aspects of family life, religious practices, leisure pursuits and portions of nature and the landscape. Indeed, processes of commodification have progressively encompassed aspects of life that have been viewed as inalienable before (Van der Pijl 1996, p. 112). The questions associated with this pattern of structural change help to give shape and meaning to a type of world order that is hegemonic in form. That is to say, it rests upon hegemony over apparently fragmented populations and localized forms of resistance. There is no escape from the face, because the 16 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 face today is politics. How people are positioned in one or the other Fanta-space depends on the ‘degrees of deviance’ mentioned by Deleuze and Guattari (1987, p. 178) and affects the politics of identity as well as the way people are inserted in the global markets of capital and labor. The governing principle of differential inclusion is valid for Indigenous people as well as for the different Italian populations in spite of the now well-established nation state identity. The inherent diversity of Italian society has been replaced by differences that depoliticize and naturalize constructed identities along the lines of the global division of labor and power. The racial hierarchy of Italians at the end of the nineteenth century, which legitimated the belief in the ‘natural’ barbarism of Calabrians, is still evident today in the contemporary visual representations of the absolute Others of Europe. As I have mentioned before, national practices through politics of space allocation and identities work together with the logic of world capitalism to differentiate and categorize people to keep them in their places. Therefore we accept the category of, for example, migrant workers, Indigenous people, lesbians, Arabs or women as natural, while there is little if any questioning of the power that originates these identities. Busting Down the Wall However, the apparent victory of neo-liberal forces linked to the power of transnational corporations may not be permanent. The shift towards a more facialized world order is neither complete nor are its outcomes determined, since political and social counter-forces challenge the dominance of capital: indeed, according to Deleuze and Guattari, the ‘probe-heads (têtes chercheuse, guidance devices)’ (1987, p. 190) are always threatening to rebel against the process. These are freed faces turned to be exploring heads that reconnect to bodies and to free landscapes in a multitude of rhizomatic combinations outlining a new breathing unit. It is the abstract machine itself that sometimes, while operating, frees faces and generates probe-heads. ‘There is no more face to be in redundancy with a landscape, painting, or little phrase of music, each perpetually bringing the other to mind, on the unified surface of the wall or the central swirl of the black hole’ (1987, p. 190). Thus there will be no more glimpse of hula and musical phrase played by a ukulele to recall the primitive Hawaiian in the mind of the Western consumer because ‘it is not a question of ‘returning’ to the presignifying and presubjective semiotics of primitive people. We will always be failures at playing African or Indian, even Chinese, and no voyage to the South Seas, however arduous, will allow us to cross the wall, get out of the hole, or lose our face’ (1987, p. 188). Melville, in his Typee, dreamed of an impossible return to the primordial state, but we cannot realistically turn back: return is not the path to get across the wall, to dismantle the face, to break the code. ‘Only neurotics and deceivers’ (1987, p. 189) do it. And yet, it is essential to comprehend that who and what one really is is a product of the historical process to date, which has deposited in one an infinity of 17 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 traces, without leaving an inventory. It is therefore urgent at the outset to ‘compile such an inventory’ as G. Chan and N. Sharma (1999) note, referring to Gramsci on the homepage of their Historic Waikiki web project. As Gramsci himself put it in a manner that recalls Nietzsche’s concept of the suprahistorical, ‘the philosophy of praxis is realized through the concrete study of past history through present activity to construct new history (Gramsci 1971, p. 427). Therefore, in order to promote the materialization of a free consciousness and generate exploring devices, we should seek to define a critique of contemporary political and cultural institutions and re-establish the link in popular consciousness between the question of consumption and exploitation, commodification and alienation in social relations, visual representations and relative meanings. There would then no longer be a face that resonates with a landscape, but at the same time there would be no return to the savage body, which was of course a representation that was useful only to the thrall of the White Man’s facialization machine. We must be careful, Deleuze and Guattari say, not to fall into a kind of nostalgia, speaking of the primitive head as more ‘human’, because as they put it, ‘there are only inhumanities, humans are made exclusively of inhumanities, but very different ones, of very different natures and speeds’ (1987, p. 190). Instead we should speak of probe-heads, countless and varied, which eventually superimpose infinite landscapes in a multitude of combinations and open up a ‘rhizomatic realm of possibility effecting the potenzialization of the possible’ (1987, p. 190). The reappropriation of the face, of our singularity and diversity, through the art of satire for instance, is the battle we must confront to dismantle the white wall that borders all of us, with the firm belief that to comprehend the flow of the history and the moment in which we live, we must live also in order to act upon it. Lorenzo Rinelli is a PhD Candidate at the Department of political science of the University of Hawai‘i at Manoa where he teaches courses on border theory, migration theory and critical IR. His dissertation project deals with the externalization of European migration control in North Africa, with particular attention to the role of Libya and its past and present relations with Italy. Acknowledgements My deepest thanks go to Lorenzo Zanier for his imaginative inspiration and to Jason Adams for his well-timed crucial intervention; to Rohan Kalyan, Amy Donahue, Nevzat Soguk and David Toohey for their suggestions and assistance with earlier draft of this paper. Notes 18 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 1 Interestingly, even though Fanta is a trademark of the Coca-Cola Company, this particular clip was not broadcast in the US. Hawaii being the 50th state since 1959 and the historical path of the civil rights movement that marked the most recent history of the US could reveal some interesting turns that go beyond the scope of this article. 2 http://www.avid.com/showcase/fanta-hd-finishing.asp 3 The term Kanaka Maoli refers to the aboriginal inhabitants of the Hawaiian Islands but even if it is probably the most widely used term, it is still contested for different reasons. See note 2 in Tengan (2008, p. 229) for a complete designations of indigeneity. 4 Lu‘au, 1. Young kalo (taro) tops, especially as baked with coconut cream and chicken or octopus. 2. Hawaiian feast, named for the kalo tops always served at one. This is not an ancient name, but goes back at least to 1856, when so used by the Pacific Commercial Advertiser; formerly a feast was pa‘ina or ‘aha‘aina. 5 According to the Webster Dictionary the word savage is derived ‘from Late Latin salvaticus, alteration of Latin silvaticus of the woods, wild, from silva wood, forest’ and it means ‘not domesticated or under human control: untamed savage beasts’ and ‘lacking the restraints normal to civilized human beings: fierce, ferocious’. I will thus make use of this term throughout the whole article, being aware that its etymology and essence belong to the birth of the idea of Europe itself. Only later, around the sixteenth century, was the term exported to non-Europeans. Webster’s explanation of the origin of the term suggests that at this time the term referred to the distinction between cultivated and non-cultivated land, that is, the forest. It also referred to the distinction between the homo ferus raised by wolves and homo silvestris or man of the woods. The latter was a sort of yeti ante litteram who had to be tamed in order to colonize the woods and make the land cultivable. In conclusion, the etymology of the term ‘savage’ points to the processes of pacification and exploitation archetypical of European imperialism, especially in the Pacific, that is the subject of this article. 6 http://www.ippmedia.com/ipp/guardian/2007/08/17/96512.html 7 On the origins of the ukulele see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ukulele 8 On this point see for instance Diggins (1972) Mussolini and Fascism: The View from America. 9 As this article is going for publication, CBS Studios are filming a new version of Hawaii Five-O. Even if there is the possibility that this production may avoid tropes of idealization of Hawaiians, considering that the cast is comprised mostly of non-Hawaiian actors, it is my guess that it would repeat the familiar tropes I have reviewed in this article. 10 It is known that for ancient Greeks the barbarians were those who literally babbled and did not speak the language of ‘civilized humanity’. 19 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 References Adorno, T 1974, Minima moralia: reflections from damaged life, trans. EFN Jephcott, Verso, London. Ahmad, A 2003, ‘The politics of literary postcolonialism’, in P Mongia (ed), Contemporary postcolonial theory: A reader, Arnold, London. Ahmida, A 2005, Forgotten voices, Routledge, New York. Arendt, H 1973, The origins of totalitarianism, Harcourt, Brace and Jovanovich, New York. Auge, M 1995, Non-places: introduction to an anthropology of supermodernity, Verso, London. Avid n.d., viewed 3 May, 2011, http://www.avid.com/showcase/fantahd-finishing.asp. Ben-Ghiat, R & Fuller, M (eds) 2005, Italian colonialism, Palgrave MacMillan, New York. Chan, G & Sharma, N 1999, ‘Historic Waikiki’, viewed 27 July, 2009, http://www.downwindproductions.com/istanbul.html. Del Boca, A 2005, Italiani brava gente? Neri Pozza, Vicenza. —1996 I gas di Mussolini, Editori Riuniti, Firenze. Deleuze, G & Guattari, F 1987, A thousand plateaus, Minneapolis, Minnesota. Demond, J 1999, ‘Picturing Hawai’i: the ideal Native and the origins of tourism, 1880-1915’, Positions: East Asia Cultures Critique, vol. 7, no. 2, pp. 459-501. Diggins, JP 1972, Mussolini and Fascism: the view from America, Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ. Gill, S 2000, Strategy and world order: a neo-Gramscian perspective, International Security Study, Yale. —1993, ‘Epistemology, ontology, and the ‘Italian School’’, in S Gill (ed.), Gramsci, historical materialism and international relations, Cambridge University Press, New York. Goss, JD 1993, ‘Placing the market and marketing place: tourist advertising of the Hawai‘ian islands, 1972-92’, Environment and Planning: Society and Space, vol. 11, pp. 663-8. 20 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 Gramsci, A 2005, La questione meridionale, Editori Riuniti, Roma. —1971, Selections from the Prison Notebooks of Antonio Gramsci, trans. Q Hoare & G Nowell Smith, International Publishers, New York. Linnekin, J 1997, ‘Consuming cultures: tourism and the commoditization of cultural identity in the Pacific’, in M Picard & RE Wood (eds), Tourism, ethnicity and the State in Asia and the Pacific, University of Hawai‘i Press, Honolulu. Meldini, P 1975, Sposa e Madre esemplare: Ideologia e Politica della donna e della famiglia durante il fascismo, Guaraldi Editore, Rimini and Florence. Melville, H 1846, Typee, reprint, KPI Limited, London. Mezzadra, S 2007, ‘Il nuovo regime migratorio europeo e le metamorfosi contemporanee del razzismo’, Studi sulla questione criminale, no. 1, pp. 13-29. Ngũgĩ Wa Thiong’o 1986, Decolonising the mind: the politics of language in African literature, Heinemann, Porthmouth. O’Rourke, DNH 1997, ‘Beyond cannibal tours: tourists, modernity and ‘the Other’’, in S Yamashita et al. (eds), Tourism and cultural development in Asia and Oceania, Penerbit University, Malaysia. Osorio, JKK 2002, Dismembering Lāhui: a history of the Hawaiian nation to 1887, University of Hawai‘i Press, Honolulu. Pieterse, JN 1995, White on black, Yale University Press, New Haven. Pugliese, J 2008‚ ‘Whiteness and the blackening of Italy: La Guerra Cafona, Extracomunitari and provisional street justice’, Portal: Journal of Multidisciplinary International Studies, vol. 5, no. 2, pp. 1-35. Pukui, MK & Elbert, SH 1986, Hawaiian dictionary, University of Hawai‘i Press, Honolulu. Said, E 1993, Culture and Imperialism, Vintage Books, New York. Silva, N 2004, Aloha betrayed, Duke University Press, London. Spurr, D 1993, The rhetoric of Empire, Duke University Press, London. 21 b o rd e rla n d s 1 0 :1 Soguk, N 2003, ‘Incarcerating travels: travel stories, tourist orders, and the politics of the ‘Hawai‘ian Paradise’, Journal of Tourism and Cultural Change, vol. 1, no. 1, pp. 29-53. Stanley, N 1997, ‘Ethnographic theme parks and the revolt of the represente’, in S Yamashita et al. (eds), Tourism and cultural development in Asia and Oceania, Penerbit University, Malaysia. Tengan, T 2008, Native men remade: gender and nation in contemporary Hawai‘i, Duke University Press, London. Trask, H-K 1993, From a Native daughter: colonialism and sovereignty in Hawai‘i, University of Hawai‘i Press, Honolulu. Turco, L 2006, I nuovi Italiani, Oscar Mondadori, Milano. Van der Pijl, K 1996, Transnational historical materialism: an outline, University of Amsterdam, Mimeo, Amsterdam. Vizenor, G 1999, Manifest manners: narratives on postindian survivance, U of Nebraska Press, Lincoln and London. Williams, Raymond. 1977. Marxism and Literature. Oxford, New York: Oxford University Press. Wood, H 1999, Displacing Natives: the rhetorical production of Hawai‘i, MD Rowman & Littlefield, Lanham. © borderlands ejournal 2011 22