Praxis of Solidarity:
Narrative journeys through decolonization By Saima Butt 10866914 (UvA) 15202585 (UCD) 99910528 (Deusto)
Supervisors: Alice Feldman, PhD University College Dublin
School of Sociology
Felipe Gómez Isa, LLM Universidad de Deusto
Faculty of Law
Michael S. Merry, PhD Universiteit van Amsterdam
Faculty of Social and Behavioural Sciences
MISOCO May 2016
Declaration
I, Saima Butt, declare this thesis as my own and that it complies with the completion and assessment standards of the MISOCO Programme. This thesis
was submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Masters of Sociology
in the Programme of
International Migration and Social Cohesion
May 4, 2016
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Declaration ... ii
Table of Contents ... iii
Preface ... vi
PART ONE: INTRODUCTION Contextualizing the Study ... 7
Conceptual Frame ... 9
Research is Personal ... 10
Building consciousness ... 12
Thesis Overview ... 12
CHAPTER ONE: HISTORY & CONTEXT ... 15
Canada: Our Home on Native Land ... 15
The myth of multiculturalism ... 17
We are all treaty people ... 17
Indigenousness and Resistance ... 20
Idle no more ... 21
Canada’s (Other) Racist History ... 23
Settler, migrant, person of colour (POC): Defining the terms ... 25
Privilege and complacency within settler colonialism ... 27
PART TWO: LITERATURE REVIEW CHAPTER TWO: MIGRANT JUSTICE & BORDER IMPERIALISM ... 30
Border Imperialism ... 31
Migration management ... 32
Movement-based Organizing ... 35
Navigating the tensions ... 36
CHAPTER THREE: DECOLONIZATION & SOLIDARITY/“WIDJ-I-NIA-MO-DWIN” ... 39
Praxis ... 40
Learning in the Movement ... 41
Self-reflection as liberation ... 42 On language ... 43 Decolonization ... 45 Land as pedagogy ... 46 Pedagogy of Solidarity ... 47 Solidarity in practice ... 48
Imagination and transformation ... 50
PART THREE: METHODOLOGY & FINDINGS CHAPTER FOUR: METHODOLOGY ... 52
Methods i. Narratives ... 55
ii. Participant interviews ... 56
iii. Secondary sources ... 58
iv. Self-study ... 59 Recruitment ... 59 Transcription ... 61 Ethics ... 61 i. Privilege ... 62 ii. Anonymity ... 62
Reflections ... 63
CHAPTER FIVE: FINDINGS & ANALYSIS Research Questions ... 65
Coding ... 66
Introducing the Participants ... 67
Summary of Findings ... 69
Identity ... 70
Reflection and reconnection ... 70
Navigating the tensions ... 73
Solidarity ... 74
As relational ... 75
As transformative ... 77
Creativity, Community Building, and Decolonization ... 80
Creative offerings ... 81
PART FOUR: CONCLUSION CHAPTER SIX: FINAL REFLECTIONS Closing Narrative ... 85
Identity: On finding your authentic, decolonizing self ... 86
i. A politicized identity ... 86
Decolonization: On centering Indigenous self-determination ... 88
i. Place-based solidarity ... 89
Implications ... 91
Conclusion ... 91
Preface
Much of this thesis was inspired by the tireless efforts of organizers/activists within NOII and the bodies of work by Harsha Walia, namely Undoing Border Imperialism, a collection of theory and knowledge bridging a diverse range of authors and reflecting on over a decade of organizing. A reminder that this work is never done in isolation.
I am grateful for the words and wisdom of the many elders, activists and organizers throughout this body of work.
7 PART ONE: INTRODUCTION
Contextualizing the Study
In order to honestly engage with the present and (our) future, we must first address the past and its ongoing impacts on current and future realities. Contrary to former Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s famous words on Canada having “no history of colonialism”1 (Hui, 2009), Canada in its very name holds the colonial metaphor; adapted from the Iroquois word kanata for settlement or village,2 a history erased. Canada is a settler-colonial state, shaped by historic and on-going violence against its Indigenous peoples and racialised ‘Others’. The ‘Other’ (or ‘Othering’) emerges out of post-colonial works (see Said, 1978; Spivak, 1990; Bhabha, 1994) as a false binary between us/them, Self/‘Other’, colonizer/colonized; one that is fraught with power relations and dehumanizing practices. ‘Othering’ is a process that continues to justify and maintain structures of domination such as colonialism, imperialism, etc. (Said, 1978). Colonialism, as a practice of domination, involves political and economic control over a territory and its peoples.
Colonialism operates in two ways, as: external (or exploitation colonization) and internal. External colonialism is the expropriation of Indigenous worlds based on the extraction of plants, animals, and human beings – “in external colonialism, all things Native become recast as ‘natural resources’ - bodies and earth for war, bodies and earth for chattel” (Tuck &Yang, 2012, p. 4). Internal colonialism is “the
1 Also, in April 2016, comments were made by current PM Justin Trudeau stating Canada, unlike other Western nations, has no colonial baggage; referencing Canada’s role in international aid and crisis intervention (Fontaine, 2016).
biopolitical and geopolitical management of people, land, flora and fauna within the ‘domestic’ borders of the imperial nation” (Tuck &Yang, 2012, p. 4). Settler colonialism is a unique form of colonization, operating both externally and internally, resting on the expulsion of Indigenous peoples from the land and relying on their disappearance/elimination in order for settlers to make a new home (Tuck & Yang, 2012, p. 5-6). If and when they do not “disappear”, they are left to be “managed”, that is, through the co-option of their land and resources; removing one from the land removes one from knowledge, the culture, what it means to be Indigenous so to speak (Simpson, 2014, emphasis added). The very notion of settler colonialism, that is 'to settle', is premised on the idea of belonging – there are those that belong and those that do not (Snelgrove, Dhamoon and Corntassel, 2014). This production of belonging is a distinct method of colonizing that is about the creation and consumption of space that settlers claim and transform for themselves through their legitimized sovereign capacity and as such, settlement is not led by elites alone (Snelgrove et al. 2014).
With this, decolonization then becomes the central project in resisting and reimaging an alternative. It is necessary to clarify between the decolonizing movements of the 50s, 60, 70s (otherwise known as the Cold War era), in which the liberation movements of Africa and Asia tied decolonization to the nation-state building process (Tuck & Yang, 2012; Mignolo, 2014), and the conceptions of decolonization used within this paper which centers a resurgence of Indigenous epistemologies, and grounded in Indigenous self-determination (Alfred & Corntassel, 2005; Simpson, 2014).
9 Conceptual Frame
Border imperialism is a critical framework for understanding contemporary border violence and the patterns of modern migration. At the same time, we must recognize the colonial project in its historical and contemporary forms, that is, the settler-colonial state. This thesis, then, focuses on the nexus of these two projects: Operating through the lens of migrant justice mobilization on colonized land, this thesis provides insight into the relationship between colonial histories and contemporary migration, particularly through the logic of settler colonialism. With this, I analyze (and problematize) the praxis of decolonization through the conceptual and empirical mechanisms of solidarity. Although we (as non-Indigenous peoples) are all complicit in the settlement project, we are differently positioned in relation to the state. So I ask: What does colonization look like in the territories known as Canada, and with that, what does settler colonialism look like for non-white/racialised peoples in Canada; what is their relationship to this colonial project? In a post-9/11 world, with a so-called refugee crisis (of socially constructed borders with devastatingly violent impacts) heightened by Islamophobic and xenophobic violence, Lawrence and Dua’s think piece, “Decolonizing Anti-Racism”, is more relevant than ever. As anti-racist movements operate in resistance to these global forces, we must not forget to examine the violence of borders on the lands we currently occupy. How are we incorporating a decolonial analysis into our life’s work and how do we develop better relationships with the Indigenous peoples of the lands on which we reside?
Research is personal
I begin this thesis by placing myself in the work because knowledge, and the sharing of it, is always personal. If we, as sociologists, acknowledge social location and positionality, then we must be explicit about who we are and where we come from. In academia, as elsewhere, I have never felt like I truly belong. I attribute this to my constant straddling of multiple worlds. Born to parents of Scottish/British and Pakistani descent, to a strong Muslim family living in a town of people that did not reflect my experiences or me. I include a short excerpt of a reflection on my own decolonizing biography:3
Growing up in northern Alberta, a first generation Canadian the ever-racist question of where are you from is something that I’ve been used to answering all my life. This is in part a reason why I don’t really identify as a Canadian citizen. Ever since I can remember people have been adamant about letting me know I don’t look like a Canadian. When we were asked to find out where our ancestors came from before arriving to Canada, I didn’t have to go too far. My father is a Pakistani born economic migrant while my mother is a Scottish born migrant who came to Canada for something new. As I traced my lineage back, I realized I did not know more than a few generations of my history. Why was this? Was the displacement of my family a part of a colonial plan to cut our ties to our roots, our past, our histories? While I struggled to unearth my roots, I was also contemplating and problematizing the notion of settlers. While I am a settler on this land, I do not fit the white settler narrative of the average Canadian. My citizenship has always been questioned and I have always known that I don’t belong.
(Chovanec et. al., 2015, p. 164)
Including this narrative exemplifies the importance of reflection within praxis, within education. As I reflected on my journey through decolonization and social justice work, I was able to theorize my lived experience within the context of Islamophobia, white supremacy, and belonging in a (white) nation. The shame and stigma of being an outsider has critically shaped my worldview, providing me with an “epistemic advantage” [of] having knowledge of the practices of both [my] own contexts and those of [the] oppressors” (Narayan, 1989/2013, p. 376).
I had gained consciousness into my own identity and positionality, but it was my involvement in environmental movements that allowed me access to Indigenous communities, on the front lines of resistance. As I began to interrogate my privilege in organizing around tar sands extraction, 4 I wondered whose voices were being silenced so that we (a group of university students) could speak. Tar sands organizing is of particular significance, coming from Fort McMurray (“the belly of the beast”)5 in the heart of tar sands extractions. If we understand that “extraction and assimilation go together” (Simpson, 2013), Fort McMurray, then, plays a vital role in understanding this particular migrant locality in relation to Indigenous resistance. While my connection to Indigenous resistance via the lands was closer, so to was my assimilation into the state. I realized how removed, yet how close, I was to Indigenous communities. It took leaving Fort McMurray for university and becoming involved in environmental justice work where I began to see myself not simply as an outsider within the Canadian context, but a settler as well, benefiting from and actively complicit in settler colonialism. My positionality as an “outsider” further complicated my relationship to the Canadian settler-state, as I acknowledged
4 Use of the term tar sands over oil sands is intentional. See Andrew Nikiforuk, 2009
5 A colloquial phrase used to describe Fort McMurray and its location in the heart of resource extraction and conservatism.
my responsibilities to the Indigenous peoples of this land, particularly on Treaty Six (Amiskwaciwâskahikan/Edmonton) and Treaty Eight (Fort McMurray) Territories.
Building consciousness
As bell hooks (1994) asserts: theory is liberation. Once I began to theorize, I have not stopped. Being able to think back and process my lived experience through a lens, with a language that offered a way for me to understand my self and my particular location, within a wider social context. I am doing this work with the love and care of what Wilson calls research as ceremony, as he states, “The purpose of any ceremony is to build stronger relationships or bridge the distance between our cosmos and us. The research that we do as Indigenous people is a ceremony that allows us a raised level of consciousness and insight into our world” (2008, p. 137). The authors and texts used here are an attempt to reflect the knowledge of scholars speaking their truth and placing themselves fully into their work, which involves both vulnerability and openness. This vulnerability operates out of the belief that “Social researchers should always be the most vulnerable ― not those being studied or ‘left’ behind once the research is complete” (Fine in Reynolds, 2014, p. 133). By writing herself into the work, Reynolds is examining her own theory and practice, and building accountability by engaging with the ethics of self-reflexivity.
Thesis Overview
This thesis works to define and better understand processes of decolonization and solidarity. I begin by asking, what colonization looks like in the territories known as Canada, and with that exploring what colonialism looks like for non-white
people/racialised peoples in Canada, and what their relationship is to colonialism. What does solidarity mean for those engaged in migrant justice work? What are the ways it is put into practice and what challenges arise in the intersections between ones' worldview and the actual practices of everyday life and activism? In order to address these questions, I have interviewed seven migrant justice activists in four major cities across the country. Through the use of open-ended, narrative-based interviews, with the goal of understanding people’s processes of consciousness, I have allowed for participants to describe and name their world (Freire, 1970/2005). The literature on decolonization and solidarity focuses on transformation as a critical examination of ones' own location within wider systems. While the literature cautions us to not stay within the personal, the individual, it is a useful and necessary starting point (Chovanec et al., 2015; Walia, 2012). With this, reflecting upon my vested interest in this work and in interrogating my position within the research, I have included my narrative alongside the voices of the participants. In conducting an adapted self-study, I am explicitly positioning myself within the research. I worked with the participants to draw out and identify key moments and themes within their personal narratives. These narratives were then analyzed through the critical themes of solidarity and decolonization, emphasizing the transformative and pedagogical process. I present the learning from these narratives, on how to be better guests on these lands.
This thesis is divided into four main sections. The first section, including chapter one, begins with an overview of the historical relations between the Canadian state and Indigenous peoples as well as a short (and incomplete) documentation of Canada’s racist and exclusionary immigration policies. The second section contains the literature review and provides the conceptual
framework for the thesis. In chapter two, border imperialism operates as the frame and migrant justice as the movement. In chapter three, we interrogate notions of solidarity through the praxis of decolonization. As frameworks, border imperialism and praxis serve to ground migrant justice and solidarity work, exposing the decolonization project underpinning it all. The third section puts forward the methodology in chapter four, discussing the limitations and ethical considerations of the research, and contains reflections on academia and the research process. The findings, in chapter five, are then presented, analyzed, and categorized into three main themes: identity, solidarity and creativity. A fourth and final section, chapter six, offers an overall summary, implications of the research, and concluding reflections on the journey.
CHAPTER ONE: History and Context
Canada: Our Home on Native Land
The legitimacy of the Canadian government resides within the Terra Nullius doctrine, the belief that these lands were empty upon discovery therefore justifying the takeover and settlement across the country (Haig-Brown, 2009). Canadians may know of treaties as the governing documents of the Canadian state’s relationship to Indigenous peoples. I use the term Indigenous to represent the extensive range of Nations and original peoples including Inuit and Metis Nations (see Haig-Brown, 2009 endnote i, p. 20). It is relevant to note that the terms Aboriginal and Indigenous are contested, as the very structure of the word denotes erasure (ab/in evokes un-original or in-authentic). To the best of my ability, I name specific Nations, in recognition of the importance of naming and to honour their sovereignty. Also, the term reflects the callout to reassert “Indigenousness”, as an identity beyond the political, state-centered relation (Alfred & Corntassel, 2005).
Treaties, while contested in their authority and legitimacy as tools of colonialism, are the reason why “Canadians have the ability to share the land, move freely about, conduct economic activity, govern themselves in the manner they choose, and maintain their cultural and spiritual beliefs without fear of persecution. Reserve lands remain for the exclusive use of First Nations, but in treaty territory, the rest is shared in one way or another” (Jay, 2013). “Treaties also have a more profound meaning for many nations. ‘When we talk about this treaty relationship,' explains Membertou First Nation treaty scholar Kevin Christmas, 'we're talking about the depth of the love and the commitment we have to one another and to our land. Our land defines who we are, and our land gives us what we need'” (Jay,
2013). Before the creation of Canada, Nation-to-Nation relations existed, as “International law was an Aboriginal concept. We did this through what we call in English now 'Confederacies.' For a thousand years we had been signing treaties between each other in these confederacies...By the time the British came, our treaty-making protocols were extensive” (Eskasoni-based treaty scholar Rena Gayde in Howe, 2013). Indigenous peoples were sovereign peoples when the British or French entered into these treaties, it was an acknowledgment of this sovereignty (Howe, 2013).
While this is a complex history, and regardless if treaties were signed as equals, the current unequal relations demonstrate that these Nation-to Nation agreements are not being upheld or respected. In 1991, the Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples (RCAP) was appointed to provide justice for Indigenous peoples and repair the relations between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples (Chung, 2010, p. 9). This report highlighted the systematic undermining of relations on the part of the Canadian government, particularly regarding the Indian Act of 1876 –a highly invasive and paternalistic federal law governing Indian status, bands, and reserve land- and the Residential school system, with 125,000 children passing through approximately 80 schools, with the last school closing in 1996 (Chung, 2010: 9). The impact of this violent cultural genocide has led to the present conditions of many Indigenous peoples today. Contrary to the Canadian state’s attempts to “kill the Indian in the child”6 and its desire to “obliterate the collective memories and the current presence of Aboriginal people” (Haig-Brown in Chung, 2010, p. 9); Indigenous peoples have not disappeared. Their continued presence and resistance ensures that the settler colonial project has not succeeded (Barker, 2015).
The myth of multiculturalism
Canada’s international reputation, while sullied under the Harper decade, rests upon the myth of an open and peaceful Nation, largely sold through its policy of multiculturalism. “Multiculturalism is a liberal social contract of tolerance for cultural difference within a nation” (Sehdev, 2011, p. 268). Dhamoon critiques established multicultural scholars (see Kymlicka; Taylor) for their rigid and essentialist understandings of culture, through their over-emphasis of homogeneity and in under-theorizing the differences between racialised and ethnic/national/linguistic communities (2006, p. 354). This contributes to the management of ‘Othered’ cultures, as it “obscure[s] deeper/ structural relations of power and reduces the problem of social justice into questions of curry and turban” (Bannerji, 2000, p. 549). Implemented in 1971, Multiculturalism quickly followed the controversial White Paper (1969), with the intention of doing away with Indian status and thus riding Canada of its Indian problem (Lawrence & Dua, 2005). As this thesis continually calls into question this myth of multiculturalism, it necessitates asking: How has the discourse of multiculturalism rendered invisible injustices against our Indigenous peoples? (Lawrence & Dua, 2005; Bannerji, 2000; Sehdev, 2011)
We are all treaty people7
The role of place is important in understanding the contemporary colonial landscape and the subsequent sovereignty battles across this land known today as Canada. The reserve system in Canada, influential to the apartheid system in South Africa (L’Hirondelle, Naytowhow, & Yael, 2011), designated land to Indigenous
7 A statement, that acknowledges treaties as two-party agreements – between Indigenous nations and the non-Indigenous settlers, and acknowledges setller responsibility (Jay, 2013).
peoples as a mechanism of government control in their attempt to civilize the Indian (Chung, 2010). In the establishment of treaties and reserves, the Canadian government used divide-and-conquer strategies such as starvation to ensure compliance (L’Hirondelle et al., 2011).
“If the government wanted a piece of land, another method was to deem it to be “surrendered.” The reserve—in Cree the term is iskonikan askiy — means leftover land, so it refers to a strip of land that perhaps had the least value that would have been part of a larger territory that a band originally existed on throughout the cycle of the seasons. (L’Hirondelle et al., 2011, p. 44) This system displaced many people who would then move onto other reserves, take scrip, or “become Métis” (L’Hirondelle et al., 2011, p. 44). These patterns of colonial settlement are important pieces of history and provide the basis for understanding treaties as tools of colonization, and in understanding the particular Indigenous contexts today. From non-treaty nations on unceded Coast Salish territories (Haida, Gitxsan, Musqueam) of the West coast, to the range of Prairie nations from North to South (Cree, Blackfoot, Dene, Chipewyan), to the (Haudenosaunee, Anishnawbe, Mohawk, M’ikmaq, Algonquin) nations of the East. This is a very small sampling of the diversity of Indigenous peoples and nations across these lands. It is important to know the Indigenous history and on-going realities of the land where we reside, live, and call home.
The continued presence of non-Indigenous peoples on these lands rests in the understanding that “we are all treaty people” as treaties require at least two parties and as Canadians on this land – we are, by very definition of treaty, signatories to this agreement. Where treaties were negotiated, it is presumed that acquisition was always the result of a willing cession on the part of the First
Nations. Where treaties were not negotiated, as in many parts of British Columbia, Indigenous sovereignty is assumed extinguished by the mere assertion of sovereignty by the Crown. Unfortunately, to the great detriment of our society, many Canadians are uneducated in and unaware of their responsibilities as treaty signatories, and of the complex history around the seizure and conquering of the lands we currently inhabit. This understanding of Canada as a violent colonizer sharply contrasts with its international reputation of an open and liberal nation, with multiculturalism embedded in the very fabric of the nation. While this welcoming vision of Canada has slowly eroded under the decade of the Harper Conservatives, we must problematize the notion of Canada as peaceful because its very creation rests upon the expulsion of Indigenous peoples and nations from coast to coast.
Wigisi Eb’eskum’ok’nsiss, (Let’s play golf) (1991) This was a tribute to the women warriors at K’nesatkii8 Serigraph on paper, 54 x 72 cm
Figure 1: Bear, 2011, p. 17
Indigenousness and Resistance
Indigenous sovereignty as resistance to, or a disruption of, settler colonialism places the voice of Indigenous peoples at the center, and it requires a rejection and dismantling of the isolation and individualism produced by colonial forces (Snelgrove et al., 2014, p. 69). Alfred and Corntassel see Indigenousness as “an identity constructed, shaped and lived in the politicized context of contemporary colonialism” (2005, p. 597). They argue that many Indigenous peoples identify themselves “solely by their political-legal relationship to the state rather than by cultural or social ties to their Indigenous community or homeland” (Alfred & Corntassel, 2005, p. 599), a product of the on-going but subtler form of colonialism. This directly threatens “their sources of connection to their distinct existences and the sources of their spiritual power: relationships to each other, communities, homelands, ceremonial life, languages, histories […] These connections are crucial to living a meaningful life for any human being” (Alfred and Corntassel, 2005, p. 599). Indigenous sovereignty means resistance to colonial forces in the most basic sense, focusing on “Indigenous autonomy and nation-to-nation relations between original and immigrant peoples” (Alfred & Corntassel, 2005, p. 604).
Indigenous peoples have always resisted. From the Oka crisis9 in 1990 to the UN-recognized Lubicon Cree battle with the Canadian government and oil and gas resource extraction companies, to west-coast land-defense camps such as the Unist'ot'en Resistance Camp, and the hunger strike of Theresa Spence, former chief of Attawapiskat. Other ways of resisting and healing include community-centered projects like the “Walking With Our Sisters10” exhibit and grassroots organizations
9 The Oka Crisis was a 78 day stand-off between Mohawk protestors and the police and army over a land dispute over a proposed golf course expansion over Mohawk land, including sacred burial
such as the Native Youth Sexual Health Network (NYSHN). 11 Indigenous peoples, through a range of tactics and action including placing their bodies on the line, are bringing their community struggles to the forefront of the public eye.
Over the last few years the Idle No More (INM) movement, along with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC)12 recommendations, has raised the general public’s level of consciousness about Canada’s dark history of residential schools and the resulting inter-generational trauma of colonization, the impacts of which people continue to live with today. There are concerns that these recommendations will not have structural impacts, similar to the inaction around RCAP. “Reconciliation is the new word for assimilation and an extension of the myth that Canada has underlying title in our territories. A synonym for reconciliation is to pacify” (Starblanket, 2016). In moving towards intentional reconciliation, the solution, then, rests in Indigenous self-determination.
Idle no more
Over the past 400 years, there has never been a time when indigenous peoples were not resisting colonialism. Idle No More is the latest—visible to the mainstream—resistance and it is part of an ongoing historical and contemporary push to protect our lands, our cultures, our nationhoods, and our languages.
Simpson, 2013
moccasin vamps (tops) plus 108 pairs of children’s vamps created and donated by hundreds for the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women of Canada and the United States <http://walkingwithoursisters.ca/>
11 Organization by and for Indigenous youth working across issues of sexual and reproductive health, rights and justice <http://nativeyouthsexualhealth.com/>
12The TRC is a component of the Indian Residential Schools Settlement Agreement. Its mandate is to inform all Canadians about what happened in Indian Residential Schools (IRS). The Commission will document the truth of survivors, families, communities and anyone personally affected by the IRS experience. < http://www.trc.ca/ >
“Idle No More is a contested label for a loosely organised but intense and powerful series of public and political engagements, community discourses, and direct action protests beginning in November 2012, increasing in size and frequency through January 2013, and decreasing in visible action and engagement thereafter, though retaining a powerful political presence in Canada” (Barker, 2015, p. 5). Idle No More was seen as a resurgence of Indigenous consciousness, setting up the time here and now to reassert Indigenouesness, “to press forward with a restoration of the relationship delineated in RCAP” (Alfred & Rollo, 2012). Idle No More began with 4 women (Nina Wilson, Sylvia McAdam, Jessica Gordon & Sheelah McLean) who felt it was urgent to act on current and upcoming legislation that not only affected First Nations people but the rest of Canada's citizens, lands and waters.13 Similar to other grassroots movements like Black Lives Matter, there is no hierarchal leadership. Communities have been encouraged to organize, and resist, under the banner of INM as they see fit, from round dances in public spaces to various forms of land-based defense. One of the striking impacts of INM was the clear cultural revitalization, particularly through song, dance, and drumming. “For example, the DJ trio ‘A Tribe Called Red’, which in some respects provided the soundtrack to Idle No More, have continued to use art as a means of transgressing temporal boundaries by combining traditional and contemporary musical techniques to create a distinctively Indigenous but undeniably modern musical form” (Barker, 2015, p. 17).
Barker reminds us that while INM was successful in raising consciousness, “the majority of Canadians have continued to disagree with and oppose Idle No More and Indigenous sovereignty…and in fact blame Indigenous peoples for the
social injustices that they face” (2015, p. 13). Those of us privileged enough to have been born in, or legally reside within these territories, have a lot of work to do in repairing relations with Indigenous peoples and we must take guidance from Indigenous communities. Alfred and Rollo (2012) offer five immanent recommendations for moving forward and restoring relations: (1) Declaration of Responsibility, (2) Legislated Recognition of Political Authority, (3) Legislated Devolution of Governance, (4) Legislation of Crown Fiduciary Duty, (5) Unrestricted Modern Treaty Process. Addressing and healing from colonialism necessitates centering Indigenous voices, and these recommendations lay the groundwork for the work ahead, the histories/(her)stories14 to be taught, and the major shifts in Canada’s political economy and social order, challenging the very nature of Canadian political sovereignty (Baker, 2015).
Canada’s (Other) Racist History
The very foundation of Canada rests upon a racist and exclusionary history, and while Indigenous peoples were the first recipients of the violence, it does not end there. The Canadian state, premised on racist principles of whiteness and domination, has continually treated racialised and ‘Othered’ bodies with violence and exclusion, reinforcing the notion of who belongs, who is deserving of humanity and who is not. White/whiteness is another social structure, again operating in opposition to the ‘Other’ and is made/remade through its context, fluctuating and shifting “in relation to other modes of interest” (Hartigan, 2005, p. 212) such as class and gender (see also Knowles, 2003; Rattanasi, 2007).
In order to understand the mechanisms at work in linking Canadian-ness to
14A way of documenting history by distinguishing or emphasizing the experience of women and other erased narratives. I would encourage the use of less gendered terms, particularly ones that do not re-inscribe the binary.
whiteness, Knowles provides a clear overview of how ex-empire nations such as Australia and Canada “make their own versions of whiteness” (2003, p. 190) through bodies, effort and will, and citizenship. These processes of whiteness, citizenship, and belonging are both fluid and contentious as Knowles notes that in the colonial context working class Brits were considered white, while in their home context the social hierarchy left them in a less than desirable position (2003, p. 191).
Returning to the making of whiteness within the Canadian context, Knowles (2003) asserts that the use of white human labour (in contrast to non-white human labour) is central to this process. Canada (before it was Canada) was inhabited by many bodies from various tribes and nations, and emulated diverse populations, governing bodies and relationships from coast to coast. But, in order for the Canadian government to populate the colonial state with the right kind of citizen, it had to bring in white bodies to settle and make the nation so to speak. This is apparent in the use of indentured Chinese labourers, whose non-white bodies were only meant for labour not citizenry, by passing a hefty tax on Chinese immigrants in hopes of deterring them from entering Canada (Chung, 2010). The discourse around the ‘right’ or ideal Canadian still holds true today. Leading up to the fall election (in October 2015), discussing refugee healthcare funding, former Prime Minister Stephen Harper referenced new and ‘old-stock’ Canadians. Harper was referring to the definition of a Canadian as someone that has been in the country for a few generations, one of the founding communities, the ‘old-stock’. Harper's comments polarized the nation bringing to light the growing division between those who felt the words should be condemned, to those who maintain the imagined ‘white’ nation. Yet, there is a truth to those controversial words; Canada's old-stock was indeed meant to be white.
In the early 1900s, the ideal immigrants to populate the Western part of the country were the white British migrants and if those bodies were not available, other white Eastern Europe immigrants (Italian, Ukrainian, Greeks) would do (Decoste, 2014). Again we see the fluidity and contradictions of whiteness, where Eastern Europeans were not white in Europe, as they travel to settle Canada, they shift into whiteness. It is important to note the social context of the time, and while Irish and Italian Canadians are seen as founding communities, we must not forget their previous exclusion from society and their shifting place in the racial hierarchy. Knowles argues that this control over the ideal [read white] Canadian citizen shows how “whiteness [...] operated as the visible demonstration of racial capacity” (2003, p. 194), allowing Canadian independence much earlier than for example India and reaffirms the image of the 'old-stock' Canadian. Canada's history is full of exclusionary, racist and alienating policies – from the internment of Japanese Canadians during World War Two to the denial of Indian migrants on the Komagata Maru (via The Asian Exclusion Act),15 and to the contemporary policies limiting Syrian refugees, particularly male and Muslim refugees (Kingsley, 2015).
Settler, migrant, person of colour (POC): Defining the terms
Does being complicit in the marginalization of Indigenous others necessarily entail that one is also privileged in relation to those Indigenous others?
Jafri, 2012
The debate around defining migrants, settlers and the laying out of privilege and responsibility is not new, but there has been an increase in the frequency and depth over the last decade or so, initiated by the seminal works of Lawrence and Dua
15Ontario Human Rights Commission < http://www.ohrc.on.ca/en/komagata-maru-incident-violation-human-rights>
(2008) on “Decolonizing Anti-Racism”. They place the call out to themselves and their colleagues to examine their “complicity in the ongoing project of colonization” (2008, p. 122), arguing that while the complacency is complex they none-the-less benefit from the theft of indigenous lands. The article questions how the body of knowledge around anti-racism has further marginalized and erased Indigenous knowledge and histories. Walia clarifies this positioning by showing how mainstream immigrant rights groups frame the discourse through the lens of “integration” and model minorities, diluting the politic and disassociating it from a broader systemic analysis (2012, p. 106). Sharma and Wright expand the conversation in their response article “Decolonizing Resistance”, by contesting the conflation of ‘people of colour’ with settlers, instead opting to “emphasize the plurality of migrations that have come to constitute contemporary Canada (i.e. Indigenous, colonizer, settler, immigrant, migrant, development-displaced)” (Bhatia, 2013, p. 45), and highlighting the political repercussions of labeling all migrants as settlers. Within the discourse of whiteness and ‘Othering’, I introduce the term Person/People of Colour (POC). POC denotes ‘Othered’ bodies including racialised migrants, refugees, second-generation, etc. POC, along with WOC (women of colour), also represents a politicized understanding of race and race-relations, in that the identity goes beyond skin colour and “is one of the inventions of solidarity, an alliance, a political necessity [that offers us] a choice about how to resist and with whom” (Morales, 2001, p. 102-3).
Sharma and Wright argue that the discourse of “all migrants are settler colonialists” (2008, p. 123) reinforces the notion of migration as inherently problematic and erases the racialization of contemporary neoliberal policies. They emphasize the need to decolonize relationships, not simply decolonize land (Bhatia,
2013). Sharma and Wright offer an alternative through the practice “commoning”, or global commons (2008, p. 131), but Bhatia finds this “commoning” runs the risk of adopting a solution focused on an “end to history”16, opting to consider what immigration would look like under Indigenous authority (2013, p. 50).
Privilege and complacency within settler colonialism
Beenash Jafri builds on these conversations by differentiating “between racialized communities being privileged within settler colonialism and racialized communities being complicit in settler colonialism…[and she] posits that racialized communities are complicit in the matrix of racial and colonial power that marginalizes Indigenous communities, while recognizing that racialized communities are not necessarily privileged subjects within the nation-state” (Walia 2012, p. 107). Jafri (2012) relates settler privilege to unearned benefits of living and working on Indigenous lands and of citizenship rights. When one thinks of how migrants, refugees, and POCs are disenfranchised by structural and systemic inequity/inequality, much of these benefits do not apply. Jafri’s (2012) analysis is useful in thinking through these concepts because she allows for us to be socially positioned and therefore differentially implicated within these wider systems. She states,
To think in terms of complicity shifts attention away from the self and onto strategies and relations that reproduce social and institutional hierarchies. The issue then is not about individual absolution of responsibility, guilt, and culpability (‘checking’ privilege) but, rather, one of reexamining strategies through which we give ourselves that responsibility and become accountable
in the first place.
In the context of people of colour and their relationship to settler colonialism on Turtle Island, this might open up spaces for thinking about tangible ways that colonial relationships are supported, reproduced and reinforced, rather than how we carry the burden of colonialism on our backs. This might be a way to think about Indigenous solidarity and forging new decolonial relations in a manner that is less about ‘us’ going to support ‘their’ struggles, and more about recognizing Indigenous sovereignty and dismantling settler colonialism piece by piece. (Jafri, 2012)
Jaggi Singh (NOII-Montreal organizer) aptly addresses this position, seeing “settlement […] as much an ideology as a practice, and the only way to escape complicity with settlement is active opposition to it” (Walia 2012, p. 108).
But, are vulnerable bodies just as accountable to this? In response to the articulation that “we are all treaty people”, Bhatia (2013) asserts that this statement can only be true if we are all here to stay, addressing the elusive and problematic restrictions on citizenship and the exploitation of low skill, racialized migrant workers and the racist, immigration system upheld by the Canadian state. “Put more bluntly, if so-called ‘low skill’ (often deskilled) racialized migrant workers are ‘not one of the family’, and in most cases can never get landed or citizenship status, then clearly ‘we’ are not all treaty people” (Bhatia, 2013, p. 59). The literature exhibits the conversation and contention around definitions and settler colonialism, asking the question: do black ‘settlers’ or other POCs (migrants, refugees, racialised bodies) get absolved of settler identity and responsibility due to the “virtue of their marginality?” (Amadahy & Lawrence, 2009, p. 107). Amaahy and Lawrence, in
their analysis of Indigenous and black peoples in Canada17, see the relationship “As racialized people, [who are] inevitably positioned as outsiders to the Canadian nation, and survivors of one or another form of genocide, they [black people] have much in common with Indigenous peoples” (2009, p. 119) Holding onto these complex questions, the next section further interrogates these issues by reviewing the literature on migrant justice and introducing the framework of border imperialism. It also explores the potential for solidarity, between racialized and marginalized groups and the Indigenous peoples across these lands known as Canada.
17There is a long history of Black communities on the East Coast of Canada, see Amadahy & Lawrence, 2009.
PART TWO: LITERATURE REVIEW
CHAPTER TWO: Migrant Justice and Border Imperialism
“You broke the ocean in half to be here. Only to meet nothing that wants you. - immigrant”
Nayyirah Waheed18
As long as people have moved, there has been a distinctly human need to control this movement. But, what is unique about this modern era of borders and boundaries is the state’s monopoly over “legitimate ‘means of movement’” (Torpey, 1998). This systematization of control connects to the rise of colonialism, increased resource extraction and leading up to the modern era of neo-liberalism with the free-flow of goods alongside increased control over the movement of people. However, there is an inherent contradiction between the desires of having culturally contained citizenry within an open global labour market. Conceptually the world upholds the narrative of human rights, particularly rights for refugees, asylum seekers, and other vulnerable groups. In reality, access to basic human rights has become severely limited. Yet, these increased constraints have done little to inhibit human movement, as migration does not disappear rather bodies simply continue to move without authorization or documentation (Massey & Pren, 2012). This process leaves migrants in a state of legal limbo, or a “permanent temporariness” (Menjivar, 2006, p. 1030), by relegating certain bodies into illegality (Favell, 2009).
This chapter begins with a brief introduction to border imperialism, exploring the migrant justice movement within this conceptual frame, and centered on the state sanctioned violence and the subsequent creation of racialized
hierarchies due to this border violence. An alternative narrative is presented through refugee and migrant rights movements such as No One Is Illegal (Canada) and the DREAMers (US). Through these movements, we address the tension and challenges to engaging in migrant justice work on colonized land. Finally, the chapter ends with reflective questions, as we think about ways to decolonize our relationships and our movements.
Border Imperialism
Border imperialism is a critique of Western-state building, that fosters the free flow of capital while subsequently limiting the movement of people, particularly racialized bodies from the so-called 'third world' (Walia, 2012). Border imperialism focuses on four main processes of (1) displacement, (2) criminalization and detention, (3) racialized hierarchies, and (4) labour precarity, working both simultaneously and in relation to one another, to create and maintain structures of displacement and migration (Walia, 2012). We first begin with the displacement of colonized and racialized bodies, resulting from the coercive extractions of capitalism and colonialism. These structures necessitate migration, or “globalization from below” (Walia, 2012, p. 41), forcing the mass movement of people due to trade barriers, foreign debt and loans, and “processes of dispossession and impoverishment” (p. 42). These displaced bodies are then simultaneously restricted by the fortification of borders through exclusionary and violent practices (Walia, 2012). “Immigration policy determines who stands inside or outside the law (or in between) and whether immigrants qualify as full participants in society, as it dictates whether they will have access to resources and, if they do, to what kind and for how long” (Menjivar, 2006, p. 1002).
Migration management
This “management of migration” brings us to the second process of border imperialism, the criminalization and detention of migrants through constructions of illegality. As Walia describes it,
[i]n order to justify their incarceration, the state has to allege some kind of criminal or illegal act. Within common discourses, the victim of this criminal act is the state, and the alleged assault is on its borders. The state becomes a tangible entity, with its own personhood and boundaries that must not be violated. (2012, p. 49)
The state response to increasing migrant populations is two-fold: integration (or normalization strategies of state control) and banishment, through the creation of illegality and deportability. Legal violence is a form of violence aided by “the blurring of immigration and criminal law that leads to a progressive exclusion of immigrants from 'normal' spaces and societal institutions” (Menjívar & Abrego, 2012, p. 1391), obstructing immigrant incorporation into the host society. As the laws and policies equate a lack of legal status with criminality, it further justifies “denying undocumented immigrants legal recognition or amnesty” (Chavez, 2008, p. 12). This type of legal violence impacts all aspects of migrant lives (from health to wages), and exposes the paradox of immigration law as states “seek to punish the behaviors of undocumented immigrants but at the same time push them to spaces outside the law” (Menjivar & Abrego, 2012, p. 1385).
The third process of border imperialism looks at how constructions of particular communities as deviant, undesirable, and illegal produce a racialised social hierarchy that shapes and defines our understandings of citizenship and belonging within the framework of the nation-state (Walia, 2012). “Racialization
comprises the social, political, economic, and historical processes that utilize essentialist and monolithic racial markings to construct diverse communities of color” (Walia, 2012, p. 56). Whiteness, as the dominant structure, escapes this fixed essentialism contrasting the racial profiling of Black, brown, Indigenous, and other marked bodies.
Bill S-7 as racist legislation
Bill S-7 is a clear example of legal violence, further marginalizing societies most vulnerable. Bill S-7, the “Zero Tolerance for Barbaric Cultural Practices Act”, was proposed and passed by the Canadian government in November 2014. The bill amended a variety of acts including the Immigration and Refugee Protection Act, the Civil Marriage Act, the Criminal Code, the Prisons and Reformatories Act, and the Youth Criminal Justice Act. The supposed aim of the bill was to condemn and criminalize polygamy and honour killings, both of which were already illegal in the country (SALCO). Beyond its inciting name, those in support of this bill specifically called out immigrant communities, asserting that these cultural practices are not welcome or tolerated in Canada. Many undocumented immigrants or those with precarious legal status are afforded no legal protection and in order to evade deportation, they avoid reporting abuse and violence, forgoing access to vital services (Menjívar & Abrego, 2012). Specifically, many survivors of gender-based violence do not come forward when criminal sanctions and deportation are possible punishments for family members (SALCO). In pushing the political agenda of criminalization and deportation, this bill essentially strips away the legal protections from those needing it the most. This bill is one signifier of the shift within the political sphere where racialised and migrant women bear the burden of violence as
it becomes racialised and gendered, placing brown women's bodies as the site of failed multiculturalism (Haque, 2010). The vilification/victimization of the brown/Muslim body reminds us of the intersections of identities, operating on multiple planes of oppression. This bill reinforces the racial hierarchy as it perpetuates the myth of the peaceful Canadian nation while subsequently ignoring Canada's own historical and ongoing colonial violence, which includes over 1000 missing and murdered Indigenous women (MMIW) since the 1980s.19 And these MMIW have names: Cindy Gladue, Tina Fontaine, and Bella Laboucan-McLean. Know their names and learn their stories.
To expand further on racialized hierarchies and exclusionary citizenship, the fourth and final process of border imperialism looks at labour precarity as the “legalized, state-mediated exploitation of the labor of migrants by capitalist interests” (Walia, 2012, p. 60). “Temporary migrant workers are brought on state visas for short periods of time to work for a specific employer” (Walia, 2012, p. 62), paid low wages, work long hours in dangerous working conditions, and are regularly held captive by employers through the seizure of their documents. On the other hand, those who are undocumented are operating outside of the state and thus are relegated invisible to the state. The distinct difference between temporary migrant workers and undocumented/unauthorized workers regards the role of the state in mediating the exploitation. Regardless of circumstances exploitation is happening, as both groups live in isolation and lack access to basic social services. “In other words, the state denial of legal citizenship [on both accounts] to these migrants ensures legal control over the disposability of the laborers, which in turn embeds the exploitability of their labor” (Walia, 2012, p. 63). These four
interwoven and overlapping processes make up the critical elements of border imperialism, a necessary analysis for migrant justice organizing and activism.
Movement-based Organizing
“We didn’t cross the border, the border crossed us.”20
No One Is Illegal (NOII) is one of the few movement-based organizing bodies within Canada that actively addresses decolonization and prioritizes relationship building with Indigenous nations, whose lands they live and organize on. Slogans such as, “no one is illegal, Canada is illegal”; “no borders, no nations, stop the deportations”; and “we didn’t cross the border, the border crossed us”, challenge the traditional discourse around citizenship rights and benevolent ‘host country’ claims. Inspiring a variety of creative and complex strategies and tactics, the process of challenging the border is both instrumental and contradictory in social struggles for migrant rights within nation-states (Fortier, 2013).
Migrant justice conceives the very notion of borders as a violent, imperial construct. Yet, in an effort to amplify the voices of the most marginalized, and in dealing with the daily realities of violence faced by those undocumented, labeled illegal and ‘Othered’, the work can reinforce a state-centered approach, at the same time espousing post-nationalist rhetoric in which “the logic of personhood supersedes the logic of national citizenship” (Abji, 2013, p. 324). Anderson highlights the significance of legal status, noting the migrant mobilizing contradiction of “at the same time as challenging the authority of the state to illegalize, they are demanding legalization” (2010, p. 66). Although NOII is a post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post- post-
20 Popular chant from Immigrant Rights movement, particularly in relation to Mexico-US migration and Palestinian sovereignty, an acknowledgment of the Indigenous peoples here before colonial borders.
national movement they appeal to the state as the guarantor of basic rights in an attempt to address the imminent needs of those at risk of detention, deportation, and violation of human rights (Abji, 2013, p. 323).
The US-based DREAMers movement, (Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors Act), is one of the leading by and for immigrant youth groups working towards status and legalization for thousands of youth across the United States. The DREAMers came out of a particular context; when the children of so-called ‘illegals’ found out they were also undocumented, as they began applying to college. Using symbols of ‘American-ness’ and reinforcing the commitment of these youth to the American values, this sector of the immigrant rights movement has carefully crafted the model immigrant narrative (Nicholls, 2013). In his analysis of the DREAMers, Nicholls (2013) shows how this redrawing of boundaries inevitably works to further exclude marginalized populations. In building this narrative of deservingness the DREAMers migrant youth have cleansed themselves of the “stigma of ‘illegality’, while subsequently hanging their parents out to dry” (Nicholls, 2013, p. 57).
Navigating the tensions
Social movements struggle to balance practical ‘wins’ alongside a broader philosophical vision. No One Is Illegal (NOII) chapters in Montreal (Mohwak, Algonquin and Anishinaabe Territories)21, Vancouver (Unceded Coast Salish Territories) and Toronto (Six Nations. Anishinaabe) constantly negotiate what can be accomplished without detracting from the overall belief that “no one person is more deserving of a self-determined life than another person” (Walia, 2012, p. 111).
Fortier, reflecting on movement organizing, seeks to address questions such as: What kind of impact does the framing of these emerging migrant justice movements as anti-colonial, anti-imperialist, and/or counter-nationalist have on strategy and decision-making within the movements? How do these movements negotiate the contradictions inherent in fighting for immigration status while advancing opposition to the legitimacy of borders? (2013, p. 3) Walia, of the NOII on Unceded Coast Salish Territories (Vancouver), notes key strategies incorporated by successful social movements as “building alliances through grassroots organizing, effectively campaigning without diluting political principles, and thoughtfully utilizing diverse tactics” (2012, p. 177). She also poses questions about alliance building, asking:
How do we build a base of support within migrant communities without alienating people through our radical actions? How do we support our immigrant communities in crisis while also taking responsibility for educating migrants about settler colonialism, capitalism, and oppression in order to build solidarity with other marginalized communities? How do we discuss migrant justice issues with the white middle class without resorting to simplifications such as “but immigrants are hardworking taxpayers”? (2012, p. 177)
These questions are part of the on-going dialogue for those in the movement(s) and committed to actively resisting colonial, capitalist, and imperialist systems of oppression. While the work is fraught with contradictions, we must remember that the idealism of no borders is used by groups like NOII “both explicitly and implicitly to critique Canadian colonialism and to challenge the settler state’s legitimacy in determining who can and cannot enter the country” (Fortier, 2013, p. 9).
This chapter discusses some of the contemporary challenges and debates within migrant justice and immigrant activist spaces, from mainstream conceptions of immigration and integration to the making of vulnerable bodies through legal violence, and in interrogating the state’s role in the exploitation. Organizing collectives capture the tension in negotiating with the state. This work is about finding the intersections, using movement-based analysis to bridge activism and academia, particularly looking at movements initiated and led by migrants and racialised peoples. The tension highlights how migrant justice work and Indigenous sovereignty are differently positioned vis-à-vis the state, one working within state-centered practices while the latter operates counter to the colonial state structure. As we move forward, thinking about ways of resisting, of operating outside of the colonial state, we ask: How does this dynamic impact the potential for migrant justice activists to engage in and practice solidarity with the Indigenous peoples of the land? This section helped situate the analysis of migrant justice activists, offering a critique of global hegemony while at the same time struggling to engage with the local (everyday) impacts of colonialism on the lands where they live and work. I use the term migrant justice activist in a broad sense, to represent those operating from a migrant justice analysis, and who have worked/are working in and with communities of color (not solely recent migrants or refugees). The next chapter explores this question as we interrogate our positionality and the potential for building stronger solidarity movements, outside of the state-centered apparatus.
39 CHAPTER THREE: Decolonization and Solidarity/“Widj-i-nia-mo-dwin”
I once asked an Elder in Barriere Lake if there was an Algonquin word for "solidarity." He said there was no direct translation, but that the closest approximation was Widj-i-nia-mo-dwin — which means, "walking together toward a common aim." I love this. It captures for me the essence of solidarity. Solidarity is about a conscious choice to join together, to share a struggle, while remembering that the burdens, especially in collaborations between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people, always remain unequal.
Lukacs, 2012
This section delves into understandings of decolonization and solidarity, exploring the potential for imagining an alternate future in both theory and practice. The works of Walia (2012) and Gaztambide-Fernández (2012) heavily influence this chapter, as they provide valuable insights in their discussions of solidarity and decolonization, drawing on an extensive range of knowledge. This practice of referencing widely helps “historicize the knowledges of communities” (Reynolds, 2014, p. 142), an acknowledgment of the communities and bodies that have informed the work. The chapter begins with a short introduction to pedagogical praxis, stemming from Freirian methodology and grounded in movement-based theory. Building off of Freire’s theory of praxis and the role of consciousness-raising by learning from and within social movements, and examining the value in theorizing lived experience. Next, we introduce decolonization as a necessary framework for liberatory movements and present Gaztambide-Fernández’s “Pedagogy of Solidarity”, which addresses the challenges to engaging in solidarity work and offers three modes of solidarity: relational, transformative, and creative. Finally, we end the chapter with an articulation of decolonization that is embedded in Indigenous self-determination and a reconnection to the land.
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