We have a full plate before us for our final class meeting. The texts by Coulthard and Pasternak intersect in significant ways and should provide for a rich conversation.
Please also remember to bring a food item to share, as well as a plate or bowl to eat from.
And meanwhile, enjoy what is left of this long weekend. It’s a time of liberation after all for Jews, Christians, Easter bunnies, and April fools alike.
Seeing some continuities with Lawrence’s book from a couple weeks ago, Coulthard and Pasternak both engage with particular forms of “fracture” in their work. How do they articulate divisions within Indigenous communities and nations (e.g. Coulthard’s chapter on gender and Pasternak’s discussion of Barriere Lake factions)? Where do they locate the source(s) of these conflicts, and how does the framing of each of their arguments make possible (or limit) these discussions? How might we think about applying their approaches in historical practice?
Pasternak and Coulthard both situate themselves in their books, albeit in markedly different ways. I was particularly struck by Pasternak’s preface – what do we think of her approach to making-visible her positionality? What work does this do (or not do) for her argument? How does she justify her “outsider” status, and what might those of us who share this position learn from this in our own work?
If we try to answer Pasternak’s and Coulthard’s call for a more grounded (land-based) understanding of Indigenous-settler relations, how might we begin to take seriously Indigenous law in our histories of place? Are our archives limited? Can we, and should we, access Indigenous legal practices on-the-ground to better understand the imperfection of settler sovereignty? (And selfishly, I’ll ask: is this possible given the parameters of a “masters” degree?) To what degree has Indigenous law been conflated with Indigenous methodology (and should they be?) – and to what extent have historians actually engaged with Indigenous law as law?
Following on a number of points raised by Nicole, I’m interested in thinking about land and capital through these works.
While the juridical struggle to resolve Indigenous land claims has been perhaps unavoidably (given the epistemological limits of colonialism and capitalism) rendered in terms of property and resource-value, how do both authors this week offer an Indigenous understanding of land that exceeds ownership and exploitation? Furthermore, how does grounded normativity/authority complicate even how scholars have thought about space (physical geography) and place (stories and cultural production) as either material or abstract backdrops to human habitation?
Also (related to my first question), I’m interested in Coulthard’s assertion at the end of chapter 2 that the process of making legible Indigenous epistemology to the settler state in the pursuit of land claims resolution, and in some cases of co-management, has resulted in (for some Indigenous groups) a move away from grounded normativity to goals of capitalist accumulation (evidenced, for example, in the Aboriginal Pipeline Group). My question is: how can we negotiate Indigenous empowerment via participation in capitalist endeavours with Coulthard’s anti-capitalist arguments?
Additionally, I wanted to respond also to Pasternak’s preface equating Israel/Palestine with Canadian colonialism. I think there are a number of risks here that circulate around conceptual categories of Indigeneity and diaspora that are not fully explored (partly because Pasternak includes this section as her self-location, rather than analytic thrust of her argument), so I’m interested in what you guys think of transporting these concerns.
It hasn’t been letting me post – but here goes a fourth try!
Hi all, I am so sad I won’t be in class for the discussion on these works. I’m sure it’ll be a rich discussion! In lieu of my absence, I’ll post many questions.
Nikki and Elspeth, while working my way through both texts I also kept reflecting on each author’s positionality. I also found Pasternak’s introduction a bit jarring and dislocating, particularly in the ways she seeks to legitimize her choice to research the complex history of, and current discussions about, Algonquin land claims in Canada by outlining her family’s relationship to colonialism, diaspora and dislocation in Palestine/Israel. What are the dangers of attempting to universalize your experiences and relationships to those of the people you hope to work with and the topic you wish to explore? What other perils or benefits may exist in trying to legitimize your work in this way? Branching out, how do the different experiences of Pasternak and Coulthard, and the way they each position their work, affect and determine the ways readers both approach, reflect on, and relate their works?
This line of thought has also prompted me to reflect on ubiquitous question of who is the intended audience for each work. Coulthard positions his book as simultaneously an expansion of past approaches in social theory (Fanon, Marx, etc.) and a political commentary on the history and current state of the ‘politics of recognition’ for Indigenous communities in Canada. Is he trying to speak to the academy, or to policy makers, or to Indigenous readers, or to all three? By basing the bulk of his analysis in a somewhat social theoretical line, does he preclude certain audiences? If so, is this intentional? Keeping the question of audience in mind, how might the book be ‘recognized’? Could you consider it an object of recognition?
Lastly, the ways in which Coulthard and Pasternak discuss state discourses about reconciliation in Canada draw a distinct line between the past (a place of blame, disenfranchisement and misunderstanding) and the present (a time of healing, good intentions and progress). In what ways is the discipline of history able to aid in countering and subverting these discourses? What particular tools do historians have at their disposal? And how can they be made use of in work that is not solely grounded in history or historical inquiry (such as both Coulthard and Pasternak)?
Elspeth, I really appreciate your question about how we reconcile Indigenous capitalist ventures and the important anti-capitalist perspective of anti-colonial struggle in Coulthard. On page 35 while critiquing the affirmative nature of state recognition Coulthard argues that this “may alter the intensity of some of the effects of colonial-capitalist exploitation and domination.” I tend to view Indigenous capitalism through that phrase. That it can alleviate severe challenges in life for many Indigenous peoples yet it is inherently premised in exploitative relationships that ultimately end up hurting other Indigenous peoples, and re-inscribing power to the colonial/capitalist system.
In challenging this system Coulthard gestures towards Fanon’s concept of the colonized as a psycho-affective subject. I don’t believe Coulthard uses the quote directly but in Black Skin, White Masks Fanon states that “what is often called the black soul is a white man’s artifact” (p. 6). This is essentially getting at Coulthard’s argument about the asymmetric power relations in the politics of recognition. For Coulthard a solution to these forms of recognition power relations is to turn away from the colonial state. This necessarily entails an engagement with other marginalized peoples who currently also look to the state for recognition. I understand this as essentially the process of forming strategic alliances across colonial state power. My question then is, if we understand a person as a psycho-affective subject, how and in what ways can emotions help build these anti-colonial alliances? Rage is certainly important for Coulthard (and Fanon) but what about other forms? For example, can humour be a way forward? (Surprise, I say yes).
Dear friends, apologies but I have not been successful on tracking down Pasternak. I’ll be reading a couple of reviews tonight, but otherwise I’m afraid I will be something of a paralyzed duck on this one tomorrow. However, on Coulthard:
First, on a general point, I wonder what your thoughts are on whether the Canadian state has ever actually “recognized” indigenous nationhood in anything but discourse (Calder and Tsilqoltin aside). Coulthard’s breakdown of Hegel’s master/slave binary emphasizes that the master does not need to recognize the subjectivity of the slave in order for the power dynamic to function. Is this, essentially, the crux of Coulthard’s argument? How does/might recognition manifest in this way then, rooted in the specifics of Canadian political and social history?
Finally, I wonder if we could consider Coulthard’s extensive use of political schemata firmly rooted in the European ontological tradition. Hegel, Marx, and even Fanon to an extent, are firmly rooted in the philosophical tradition of “Euro-Enlightenment” thinking. Is it possible to see this text as a successful attempt to “turn away” from the colonizer, when it has these groundings? Coulthard quotes Leanne Simpson’s (amazing) “Dancing on Our Turtle’s Back” in pointing to how non-Indigenous frameworks ‘are fundamentally limited in their ability to provide insight into what a culturally grounded alternative to colonialism might look like for Indigenous nations” (p. 148 in RSWM). Might this also apply for an indigenous understanding of the colonizer/colonized relation? Coulthard certainly probes the limits of Fanon in his final chapter, but even so- by prioritizing Euro-enlightenment frameworks, do you think he falls into the same kind of trap he rails against?
Rosie’s questions:
All,
Sorry I’m late to the party with these questions, I am sad to not be able to join you for the final discussion tomorrow.
Dane, I wish I could be there to discuss humour and rage with you tomorrow (we’ll have to follow this up another time), I too agree with you that humour can be both liberatory and also a coping/strengthening mechanism – but I wonder how this fits in with justifications of misogynistic/racist jokes/humour. Does this speak to the power of humour to normalise/reify social relations/power structures, or are they different cases entirely? Is there a fine line to tread here? How could we incorporate humour in our work when we cannot control the response/way people will use what we have written?
This is a side note, my main question was about Coulthard’s ‘Five Theses on Indigenous Resurgence and Decolonisation’ at the end of RSWM. This reminded me of the ways several other authors we have read (Hill? Lawrence? I don’t have my books in front of me but I feel like there were others as well) have finished their books with concrete calls for decolonisation and strategies to approach this. This seems quite a contrast to the way non-Indigenous authors seem to finish their books. Is this something, as non-Indigenous scholars, we should be thinking about doing in our work? Or, following Coulthard’s analysis of Leanne Simpson (p. 148) would we always be ‘fundamentally limited in [our] ability to provide insight into what a culturally grounded alternative to colonialism might look like for Indigenous nations’ (I think – probably yes). How does this contrast with the way Pasternak concludes her work?
Michael’s questions:
Coulthard writes about the danger of separating the past and present. As he quotes from Stephanie Irlbacher-Fox, “by conflating specific unjust events, policies, and laws with ‘history’, what is unjust becomes temporally separate from the present, unchangeable. This narrows options for restitution: we cannot change the past” (121). This touches on a pretty common theme we have discussed before–the importance of highlighting relevance to the present/future–but I wonder if this could be read as a more wholehearted critique of historical work. How do historians avoid separating the past from the present? Is it enough to just give references to how historical events and structures exist in the present? Or does the very practice of being a ‘historian’ writing ‘history’ imply an unchangeable temporal separation?
Also, I wonder what ‘anger and resentment’ look like in historical work. As I try to think of examples, all that comes to mind are ‘non-traditional’ academic works that also challenge typical methodological approaches. Can traditional linear academic historical narratives hold rage and resentment? Or is the very form made to keep such emotion outside of historical narrative? And how do academic institutions typically respond to narratives that contain ‘anger and resentment’?