Settler Colonial Studies

Few aspects of the 1916 Central Asian revolt are more controversial than the measures taken by the Russian imperial authorities for its suppression. This article explores the punitive expeditions and settler vigilante violence against the Kyrgyz population of Semirech'e during and after the revolt, and the proposals to separate Kyrgyz and settlers by deporting the latter from the Issyk-Kul region and the Chu Valley to the mountains around Naryn. It argues that these persisted under the Provisional Government and into the early years of Bolshevik rule.

Not-guilty verdicts, mistrials, and impunity for the Bundy family and many of their supporters in the armed confrontations over public land use in Nevada and Oregon. Expanded access for private oil, gas, mining, and logging industries and the downsizing of national monuments such as Bears Ears lead by Secretary of the Interior Ryan Zinke. A number of highly contentious debates and sensationalized events have again focused attention on land held in the public domain by the United States. This essay argues that federal land policy as a form of colonial administration has been constitutive for the logic of expectation as property in what is now the United States. From the state land cessions negotiated on behalf of the Articles of Confederation to the preemption acts (1830–1841) to the homestead acts (1862–1916) to present-day demands for land transfer, the acquisition and disposal of the so-called public domain have been central to westward colonization, the consolidation of the nation-state, and the promise of land ownership as the ostensible foundation of individual liberty. These dynamics are evident in contemporary conflicts over public lands and arguments for the transfer of public lands to either state or private ownership. Approaching the Bundy occupations as flashpoints that illuminate competing interpretations and claims to land within the history of westward colonization, this essay seeks to demonstrate the ways in which expectation emerges from particular economies of dispossession of indigenous peoples that have historically worked through and across the division of public and private property.

In this paper, I examine how the criminology of genocide suffers from problems characteristic of the first generation of genocide scholarship, such as sweeping comparison, narrow legalism, and inattention to genocidal processes. Moreover, I highlight recent second generation work within genocide studies that has gone largely ignored by criminologists, and in particular North American criminologists, and which would allow the criminology of genocide to overcome some of its disciplinary limitations. In particular, I point to the growing areas of critical, colonial, and settler colonial genocide studies as offering vital lessons for the criminology of genocide, using the example of residential schools in Canada, and the Fort Alexander Indian Residential School in particular, to illustrate my arguments.

This study demonstrates that that the lion’s share of everyday policing and patrol in Onion Lake and Ahtahkakoop is  administered by Peacekeepers and that their withdrawal would result in a significant impact on the effectiveness of the RCMP who
heavily rely on their assistance and guidance. The vast majority of respondents do not wish to see the Peacekeepers become a police service under the “self-administered” option of the FNPP. Without exception, however, Peacekeepers, administrators, and
RCMP officers believe the Peacekeepers need funding for  standardized training, better equipment, and uniforms as well as more formalized information sharing with the RCMP.
Under the current parameters of the FNPP, however, no such remedy is available. Without a change in the FNPP, the Peacekeepers will continue to act as underpaid, overworked and minimally trained first responders and role models upon whom the RCMP is, by their own admission, heavily dependent but unable to support. Given this state of affairs, it is recommended that the FNPP be revisited to allow for the possibility of plural forms of policing outside the First Nations Self- Administered (FNSA) and RCMP Community Tripartite Agreements (RCMP CTA) .
Peacekeepers are inexpensive and very effective. It would take very little to expand and improve their service provision and thereby free up the RCMP to also engage in more proactive and culturally appropriate mentorship and community involvement.

This paper argues that white settler researchers seeking to engage with Indigenous sovereignty or contribute to antiracist and decolonising struggles should approach these critical encounters with and through awareness of our complicity in ongoing racism and colonialism, which involves appreciating our locations and limits. A discourse of colonizing white innocence circulates in policy, academic and other spaces to reinforce and obscure progressive white investments in maintaining power relationships generated by ongoing colonising racist violence through presenting particular individuals, groups and institutions as non-problematic, and so not complicit in historical and contemporary violence. This foundational assumption allows white settlers to assume that our contributions are benevolent or in the interests of Indigenous people and that we ourselves transcend our own locations within racist and colonising systems of rule, in so doing emphasising our legitimacy and authority in relation to Indigenous people. Complicity establishes both a political responsibility and an intellectual imperative to understand and contest systems of domination in which we are enmeshed through deliberate respectful engagements with those who have experiences, knowledges and forms of authority that we do not and cannot possess.

The literature on transitional justice tends to conceive of transition as a bounded process that takes place immediately following a conflict, rather than envision the process as part of building peace. Significantly, this literature tends to separate historical conflict and contemporary transition. While the similarities between historical and recent conflict are often acknowledged, the remedies available under the transitional justice framework are rarely applied to the violence and historical injustice that are inherent to settler colonialism. This omission creates some troubling silences in the transitional justice literature, which this article seeks to address through drawing on critical peacebuilding scholarship. This article considers what might be learned about the processes and challenges of transition by expanding the temporal frame in which transitional justice is placed. The article suggests that transition may in fact be a far lengthier, more complex, and more challenging process than the literature generally concedes. More significantly, by focusing on colonial violence, the conventional conceptualisations of both 'transition' and 'justice' can be challenged.

Teaching in the shadow of the colonial relations in Israel/Palestine, there is, I believe, no more pressing pedagogical issue than exposing the ways in which hierarchies of “being” are produced through essentialist ethno-nationalist forms of identification, where privilege is very unevenly distributed. I focus my discussion on Giovanni’s Room, since, after teaching this text for several years, I have only recently come to realize that James Baldwin’s second novel can provide us with some crucial insights into how privilege operates. Originally I placed this Baldwin novel in my course—”20th-century African-American Novel”—in order to provoke discussions about canonicity, normative assumptions about US “ethnic” literature, the relationship between the author’s racial identity and the text as well as to stimulate students to think more critically about race and heteronormativity. After all, Giovanni’s Room, written during the hyper-heteronormative period of the 1950s, is about a tragic love affair between two white men, but it is also a novel written by a
queer African American. Over the years, however, I have become more and more convinced that it is important to move away from a focus on any particular category of identity, such as homosexuality, masculinity, and/or race, and to highlight, instead, the broader notion of stratified privilege as it manifests itself in the novel.

It is through specific genealogies of scholarship on race and coloniality, Indigenous feminisms, and Black feminisms that we can escape the well-rehearsed trope of 'land as body'. Within a comparative hemispheric American studies framework, I consider the centre of struggles over empire and extractivism that show the unravelling of the binary between embodiment and territories. I also consider submerged perspectives and forms of solidarity by those who refuse the material and symbolic infrastructures of racial and extractive capitalism.

This article explores the centrality of property and dispossession to the operations of settler-colonialism in Israel/Palestine through the prism of Edward Said and Jean Mohr's collaborative photographic essay After the Last Sky. Drawing on the way in which Said directs our attention to the meanings of land, place and exile within Palestinian life and resistance, and putting his writing in dialogue with recent photographic projects that focus on Palestinian dispossession, the article brings these theoretical perspectives to bear on the present reality of the dispossession of Palestinian Bedouin in the Naqab village of Al-Araqib.

In this collective writing exercise the authors propose a meditation on attunement and entanglement within the contemporary United States. Writing across three sites, southern Nevada, Chicago, and New Orleans, they consider auto/ethnographically the deep histories of dispossession that shape their relationship to the academy, to the ethnographic field site, and to home. As a rehearsal of an ongoing multimodal project, this essay presents what the authors have been calling their “dark-side mixtape”: a rehearsal of ethnographic theory read through the music that nourishes their souls. The first rehearsal was conceived as an experiment in refusal: to refuse the search for hope or potentiality in the violence of antiblackness, settler colonialism, and predatory capitalism. The next rehearsal sought an orientation within that refusal toward a nonoptimistic articulation of love. In this rehearsal, the authors consider the ethnographic and institutional entanglements that bring them to this project through a playful presentation of “liner notes” to their mixtape for America. In so doing they trace an unromantic love of country—love of the desert, love of the swamp, love of people, and love of the lake—through Indigenous and Black thought. This mixtape considers the conditions of dispossession affectively. It does so by taking seriously hip-hop artist Kendrick Lamar’s claim that “the only hope we kinda have left is music, and vibrations” and tuning the work to dispossession’s rhythms and tempos, harmonies and dissonances, to its unrepeated melodies and its recurring, steady beats.

Is genocide the correct word for the brutal treatment that Native nations suffered at the hands of public authorities and settlers during the United States’ continental expansion? Jeffrey Ostler revisits this question in his comprehensive and impressively thorough book Surviving Genocide: Native Nations and the United States from the American Revolution to Bleeding Kansas.

Genocide is not solely the domain of authoritarian states. By constantly intertwining conceptual analysis and historiographical investigation, this monograph reconstructs, in its unsettling facets, the history of the indigenous catastrophe perpetrated by Western "democracies": from the United States to Canada, from Australia to New Zealand. Actual genocides were carried out through eliminationist policies of a physical, biological, and cultural nature: from massacre to forced assimilation, through eugenic sterilisation. What emerges is a picture that is at once poignant, provocative, and rigorous, aiming to restore dignity to the forgotten victims and respond to the challenge posed by historical revisionism and its attempt to erase the most heinous crimes of the West.

Il genocidio non è prerogativa dei soli Stati autoritari. Tenendo costantemente in tensione analisi concettuale e indagine storiografica, I dannati senza terra ricostruisce, nelle sue inquietanti sfaccettature, la storia della catastrofe indigena perpetrata dalle “democrazie” occidentali: dagli Stati Uniti al Canada, dall’Australia alla Nuova Zelanda. Veri e propri genocidi, realizzati per mezzo di politiche eliminazioniste di natura fisica, biologica e culturale: dal massacro all’assimilazione coatta, passando per la sterilizzazione eugenetica. Ne emerge un quadro al tempo stesso commosso, provocatorio e rigoroso, che intende restituire dignità alle vittime dimenticate e rispondere alla sfida lanciata dal revisionismo storico e al suo tentativo di cancellare i crimini più efferati dell’Occidente.

In late September 2016 former Prime Minister, respected legal scholar and constitutional law reformer, Rt. Hon Sir Geoffrey Palmer QC and public law specialist Andrew Butler released, as part of a New Zealand Law Foundation funded study Constitution Aotearoa, their proposed constitution in a book entitled, “A Written Constitution for Aotearoa New Zealand.” This paper seeks to provide a critical
Kaupapa Māori critique of their proposed constitution grounded in Aboriginal
academic Aileen Moreton-Robinson’s White Possessive Doctrine and Veracini’s
commentary of “On Settling.” It will look to explain how this proposed constitution is a missed opportunity and how it can be seen as a continuation of white possessive nature of the state while outlining the conflict between the need of the state to retain to retain power and the need of Māori to have constitutional transformation.

This article considers how poverty was distributed among the different inhabitants of the southern suburbs of a New Zealand city, in the context particularly of motherhood, fatherhood, dependence and independence, childhood, home, and old age. It addresses the demographic patterns and economic practices that meant that women and men, and the single and the married, encountered poverty differently; and it assesses the relationship between family life cycle and poverty in terms of gender. Finally, it considers the significance of the male-breadwinner wage norm and the way that this practice resulted in an uneven distribution of poverty not only across a society but also within families.

It is widely agreed that British society and culture have been shaped by their interactions with the colonies. By focussing on Samuel Butler, a nineteenth-century New Zealand settler and later a heterodox London intellectual, this paper describes one such interaction. Butler's case is instructive not just because it provides a new line into relations between modernism and colonialism but because it calls into question the terms through which those relations have been thought. At one level, Butler's work queries the notions of identity upon which centre/periphery model rests, partly just because it helps to fragment, rather than to unify, British culture. At another, it encourages us to reconceive the ways in which colonialism affected metropolitan life. In an often cited essay, Fredric Jameson argued that the 'traces of imperialism' are 'constitutive' of 'Western modernism' and that we find these traces, not in "content or representation" but in "formal symptoms within the structure of First World texts." I want to posit another case: that settler colonialism at least, leaves its mark on modern culture because the forms of life available to settlers enable important new connections to, and critiques of, received values and concepts, particularly as articulated in writing that circulates in the centre.

From its vivid cover, Ambelin Kwaymullina’s anti-colonial handbook, ‘Living on Stolen Land’, renders in bold brushstrokes the culture of oppression that plagues settler systems, culture and subjectivities. It addresses readers open to considering that colonialism need not be permanently with us, but is maintaining its power through the repetition of particular modes of thought and action.

This paper draws on articles published in the New Zealand Herald between 1914 and 1933 by the writer and journalist Elsie K. Morton to demonstrate how nostalgia for childhood experiences in the forest, or the bush, as it is labelled colloquially, have acted as an antimodern response to and critique of deforestation in New Zealand. Morton's articles are situated within the wider body of cultural antimodernism in New Zealand, locating them after the antimodern literature of Maoriland in the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century, but before the antimodern writing of several prominent authors who published their works in the 1930s and 1940s. The author makes the argument that the bush landscape is central to the expression of antimodernism as a response to the modernisation of New Zealand.

The Right Relationship: Reimagining the Implementation of Historical Treaties John Borrows and Michael Coyle, editors. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2017. 428 pp. $39.95 paper.

In the 1764 Treaty of Niagara, representatives of the British Crown met with a gathering of more than two thousand Indigenous leaders and committed that North American settlement would only proceed with Indigenous consent. At this gathering, the language of kinship was used to express a shared understanding of treaties as the foundation of peaceful settler-Indigenous coexistence. In the wake of the sestercentennial of the Treaty of Niagara, John Borrows and Michael Coyle have assembled a series of chapters reflecting on the state of the treaty relationship. The Right Relationship brings together a mix of Indigenous and settler legal scholars, whose interventions range from pointed arguments about judicial interpretation to comprehensive engagements with Indigenous legal principles.

A co-authored introduction stages the questions framing the volume; however, it is the opening chapter by Borrows that ultimately frames the collection. In "Canada's Colonial Constitution," Borrows both presents the vision for the treaty relationship established at Niagara and charts the continual shape-shifting of the Crown as it has undermined the promise of a treaty federation through the decades. He argues against asking Indigenous peoples to reconcile themselves to colonialism and, instead, suggests that it is necessary to centre Indigenous law in constructing remedies to eroded settler-Indigenous relationships.

The other chapters of the first section of the book continue to ask after the relationship between treaties, history, and the present. Coyle examines the historical conception of treaties as land-sharing agreements. Kent McNeil excoriates the historical evidence and scholarship of Paul McHugh, a regular expert witness for the government. Julie Jai proposes a method to extend modern treaty frameworks to historic treaties. Francesca Allodi-Ross suggests a means of balancing individual and collective interests in treaty rights cases, while Sari Graben and Matthew Mehaffey address the inequalities that continue to pervade negotiations of financial transfers to implement self-government agreements.

The second section, which addresses the role of Indigenous (particularly Anishinaabe) law in treaty implementation, is the most provocative section of the book. It opens with Mark Walters's inquiries into how Anishinaabe travel can help us think about law as a canoe negotiating a river, just one jurisdiction operating in relation to many others. Against contractual understandings of treaties, Aaron Mills positions treaties within Anishinaabe constitutionalism, arguing that they should be approached politically as enactments of citizenship. Heidi Stark similarly argues that treaties should not be read textually but, rather, within the context of a storied Anishinaabe world. Finally, Sarah Morales interrogates how Hul'qumi'num law can highlight the improper conduct of British Columbia in contemporary treaty negotiations.

The book concludes with a set of chapters examining the possibility of establishing other forums to implement treaties. Jacinta Ruru discusses the Treaty ofWaitangi claims process in Aotearoa/ New Zealand. Jean Leclair reflects on the role of the courts in treaty disputes. Finally, in a pair of complementary chapters, Sara Seck and Shin Imai reflect on how emerging corporate norms around securing Indigenous consent to development can model new modes for the conduct of different authorities in international and domestic contexts, respectively.

The authors at times conflict in their respective emphases on Canadian jurisprudence and the practice of Indigenous law. For instance, Mills is emphatic that repairing treaty relationships will not occur through the courts and compellingly argues for instead embodying treaties through interpersonal relationships, following the Anishinaabe mode of lawful conduct. However, through all their diversity, the contributors hold in common a desire to support and extend the spirit and intent of treaties as a shared relationship. As a whole, the collection invites readers to take the first steps in a collective process towards reconceptualizing how we understand and approach treaties.

A history of the United States' systematic expulsion of "undesirables" and immigrants, told through the lives of the passengers who travelled from around the world, only to be locked up and forced out aboard America's first deportation trains.

The United States, celebrated as a nation of immigrants and the land of the free, has developed the most extensive system of imprisonment and deportation that the world has ever known. The Deportation Express is the first history of American deportation trains: a network of prison railroad cars repurposed by the Immigration Bureau to link jails, hospitals, asylums, and workhouses across the country and allow forced removal with terrifying efficiency. With this book, historian Ethan Blue uncovers the origins of the deportation train and finds the roots of the current moment, as immigrant restriction and mass deportation once again play critical and troubling roles in contemporary politics and legislation.

A century ago, deportation trains made constant circuits around the nation, gathering so-called "undesirable aliens"—migrants disdained for their poverty, political radicalism, criminal conviction, or mental illness—and conveyed them to ports for exile overseas. Previous deportation procedures had been violent, expensive, and relatively ad hoc, but the railroad industrialized the expulsion of the undesirable. Trains provided a powerful technology to divide "citizens" from "aliens" and displace people in unprecedented numbers. Drawing on the lives of migrants and the agents who expelled them, The Deportation Express is history told from aboard a deportation train. By following the lives of selected individuals caught within the deportation regime, this book dramatically reveals how the forces of state exclusion accompanied epic immigration in early twentieth-century America. These are the stories of people who traveled from around the globe, only to be locked up and cast out, deported through systems that bound the United States together, and in turn, pulled the world apart. Their journey would be followed by millions more in the years to come.

University of California Press, 2021

https://www.ucpress.edu/book/9780520304444/the-deportation-express

A thorough analysis of capital punishment from a political-geographical perspective is lacking in the discipline of geography. This is despite the fact that capital punishment overlaps with numerous geographic approaches, concepts, and areas of study. This study serves as a call to geographers to begin considering capital punishment's wide interaction and interrelation with developed areas of knowledge in the discipline. Specifically, political geographers stand to contribute in novel ways to wider discussions about capital punishment by analyzing executions relative to contemporary work in geography on violent, legal, and carceral spaces. I first introduce the need for geography's engagement with this pressing issue. Then, I clarify several terms needed to understand this violent practice. A third section highlights several pathways of development in the critical geographies of capital punishment. It is organized around four broad themes-critically mapping capital punishment, bodies in motion, politics of access, and executing the "other"-connecting capital punishment to developing concepts, literatures, and sub-disciplines in geography. The final two sections outline an epistemological approach to the geographies of capital punishment and how legal and carceral geographies might contribute.

The term "post-colonialism" can confuse with its depth and complexity just as easily as it can confound with the nearly fraudulent vagueness of its definition. Characteristic of much post-modern intellectual discourse, one can argue that post-colonialism finds its meaning somewhere between elitism and chicanery, on a middle ground favoring subjectivity over specificity and polyvocality over a singular, authoritarian narrative. But let us attempt to accelerate, to speed past the idea of post-colonialism as an abstract theoretical inquiry altogether and brace for a collision with how we see it, or fail to see it, lived by people around the world.

Slaves, Metics, Citizens For us, there is no going back to the original text of Antigone, no return to a pure Sophoclean drama that would be shorn of all the translations and adaptations it has inspired. There is no returning to a Greek text somehow outside the political genealogy of its multiple translators. There is no pre-political text named Antigone. There are only the multiple resonances, between Sophocles and Heaney, between Heaney's Sophocles and McDonald's Sophocles, between McDonald's Sophocles and Fugard's Sophocles, and so on, ad infinitum.-Tina Chanter, "Antigone's Political Legacies: Abjection in Defiance of Mourning" The Ancient Drama of Political Membership: Slavery, Metoikia, and Citizenship in Sophocles's Antigone Sophocles's Antigone (441 BCE), which narrates the story of the title character, is both globally the most frequently performed classical tragedy in contemporary theaters and a foundational text for political theory. 1 Antigone is the oldest daughter of Oedipus, the previous sovereign of Thebes, well known for having committed parricide and incest after solving the riddle of the Sphinx. Her brother Polyneices, having been ostracized by their other brother Eteocles, who was unwilling to share the throne, sought to destroy and enslave the city. Polyneices and Eteocles kill each other in battle, but Creon, their uncle and the new sovereign of Thebes, grants proper burial only to Eteocles, who fought on behalf of the city. Creon decides to keep 1

This article examines the political satire of Nova Scotian writer and politician Thomas Chandler Haliburton through the lens of early nineteenth-century transatlantic debates over reform and the best form of government. Haliburton’s Sam Slick sketches, featuring a charismatic Yankee commenting on global political affairs, were immensely popular at the time, being published and read in Britain, Canada, and the US. The following pages argue that Haliburton’s portrayal of American culture is informed by his negative views on popular democracy and on its relationship with the nascent industrial capitalism transforming North America. Haliburton’s political satire was meant to persuade colonial readers that the introduction of American-style elective institutions in Nova Scotia had the potential to radically alter British North American culture, and push the colonies out of the orbit of the Empire.

This paper explores the value of theorising about colonialism that is specific rather than universal, informed by our locations in colonial struggles and driven by engagement with our continuing material colonial relationships with land, place and people. We do this by examining recent scholarly engagements with our contemporary precarious global economic and environmental conditions, particularly within settler colonial theory. We argue that using analogy to think our way out of material colonial and racial relations can obscure the authority of Indigenous peoples and reproduce colonial epistemologies. This attempt to create solidarity through political equivalence risks reifying imperial relationships and resecuring white possession. Rather than seeking to evade our positions as colonisers embedded in violent political systems, we argue it is possible for colonisers to act in solidarity from a position of complicity. Working towards justice from our own locations involves building solidarity across differences, without first needing to reduce these differences to sameness.

Nineteenth-century girlhood was imagined as a decisive period of liminality: distinct from both childhood and adulthood, it shaped the womanhood that followed it. Shipboard diaries written by emigrants engage with a similar period of transformation. Discussing three diaries written by girls en route from Scotland and Ireland to New Zealand, this essay explores how the liminality of girlhood and the liminality of the emigrant voyage are intertwined. While narrating a spatial and temporal transition, the three texts also negotiate a transformation in the concept of girlhood: the notion of the ideal colonial girl as brave, resourceful and hardworking developed traditional British expectations of women as responsible for the domestic sphere and as upholders of morals. Whereas two of the diarists stress qualities such as bravery, a sense of adventure, and good health, the third diarists focuses on a more traditional concept of girls as pure and virtuous. The texts’ adherence to and departures from the genre conventions of shipboard diaries emphasise the liminality of the journey, mirroring the transformative potential of new notions of girlhood.

This article employs a mad transdisciplinary approach to autoethnography to detail vulvodynia — or chronic vulvar pain — within the system of (dis)ability. Through autoethnography, the self operates as a mobile orientation from which to identify and disrupt the colonial rationalities that differentially construct and narrate vulvodynia across sites of madness and disability. Through historical, discursive, and autoethnographic analysis, I locate vulvodynia’s role in various processes of subject, race, and settler-state formation from the nineteenth century up to the neoliberal present.

Photography has been used by settlers to document and fictionalize colonial encounters in Canada since the mid-19th century as an attempt to displace Indigenous peoples from the land, to contain them within settler albums.  In this paper, I look at visual practices of settler photograph albums in British Columbia from the turn of the 20th century to argue that this is a key site of settler forgetting and erasure of colonial violence.  Specifically, I analyse the visual practices of depicting the ‘before’ and ‘after’ of colonial encounter in two personal photograph albums of contractor Andrew Onderdonk, (ca. 1885) and photographer and civil servant Benjamin Leeson (n.d., active 1887-1900). Paulette Regan’s methodology of ‘unsettling’ (2011) guides a destabilization of the historical narratives that are supported by these personal photographic albums, and asks how they produce settler denial and guilt about Indigenous-settler relations, as well as what we can learn about colonial injustice and violence through an unsettling encounter with these same images.
This paper is a part of a larger decolonizing project that aims to destabilize the objectivity of photographic documentation to show how this archive is used to structure a fantasized ‘before’ and ‘after’ of settler contact that erases the violence of Indigenous-settler relations to depict North American colonization as a benevolent intervention.

The systems of immigration and criminal law come together in many important ways, one of which being their role in instilling difference and undermining inclusion and integration. In this article, I will begin a discussion examining the concept of integration, simplistically described as inclusion into “American” life, not in the more traversed realm of citizenship, but in the context of crimmigration. I posit that when considering the relationship between those who are formally considered integrated versus other, or outsider, which may or may not overlap with immigration status, the accepted concept of integration is misguided at best. Instead, if the concept of integration is framed as an epistemological tool of settler colonialism, the construction of race provides a more fruitful line of inquiry. There remains a divide in United States civil society, where people racialized as nonwhite do not have the same lived experience as people racialized as white. Similarly, identity, or t...

While historians broadly agree that the US Homestead Act of 1862 allowed white settlers to take over the ancestral lands of Native nations, research rarely goes beyond the scope of individual case studies to map out how exactly Indigenous dispossession and homesteading intersected. The how, where and when of this relation has more commonly been assumed in the research literature than explored in any substance. This article offers a critical appraisal of recent interpretations and presents new evidence to make sense of the general relationship between homesteading and Native dispossession.

this is the final pre-publication version .... n this chapter, I aim to consider resilience within the neo-colonial circumstances that Warlpiri people, the Australian Indigenous people I have been conducting research with since the mid-1990s, find themselves in today. I am interested in the meanings of resilience in Warlpiri people’s lives, what forms it may take, and whether and how it may be recognized by the anthropologist as well as by those against whom it may be practiced. Clearly, these are questions of considerable proportions and in order to keep focused, I will explore them here through one single case study: local responses (Warlpiri, non-Indigenous and wider...

https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctvw04bg3