A few weeks ago, I was diligently printing my ASTU readings in IKB library. Slightly overwhelmed with the amount of papers, I kept floating from desktop to printer careful not to leave my files unattended. The place was full, and a few people were also congregated around the printer. Among these was a tall, kind looking girl who saw me print Judith Butler’s first chapter from Frames of War: when is life grievable?

“Oh, you’re reading Judith Butler!”, she said, “she is my favorite scholar!”. Excited, she recommended Bodies that Matter, and asked me what class I was reading her for. We spoke a little more before I went back to my ongoing printing, and wondered: what does it mean to have a “favorite scholar?” is there such thing as a scholar fandom? But furthermore, I was excited to find out what will the reading provide for me. How will the reading enlighten me? Would I get the feeling of mine-ness similar to when I encounter a song within the intricacies of YouTube? Would I become a Butler fan myself?

In the reading, Butler proposes a new way to see the world; one in which bodies are individual entities that are “vulnerable to each other” (pg) and are connected through this state of “precariousness” (pg). For Butler, wars are some of those situations that leave us vulnerable to each other but only within a boundary, such as the nation-state, and these affect our “frames of recognizability” as we no longer see the lives of the presumed “enemies” as grievable. In other words, entities such as the government or the media tend to frame wars in a polarizing way, such as the “enemy” is dehumanized to the extent in which his/her life is no longer worth of grief, as if it was never a life at all.

While Butler touches various aspects throughout the reading, I think her argument is one that challenges the narrative of modern concepts of nationalism and identity. We are constantly told through various mediums, that unity is power, that voices together are one; but we tend to forget the power that single voices have, that individuals are separate entities that do thrive individually. Our identity does depend on ourselves and not in context of a greater designated category we often tend to let it shape who we are.

One of these forms of identity is citizenship. My CAP classes have intermingled their around the theme of Global Citizenship in very different ways. I have slowly come to understand that our vision of the world no longer must be reigned through the antique lenses of “modernity”, one that began in the 18^th century. The country I was born in was not chosen by me, but as it is the land I am familiar with, I will naturally feel special sympathy for the beings and the problems that are given within it. But what if we were born thinking we were born on this globe and not an independent state?

Readings like Butler’s make me think about the thought progression scholars among disciplines have pioneered with, and the fact that globalism is no longer constrained to nation-states being members of one globe, but individuals sharing the same earth. It is a very big challenge to think about belonging to a community of 7 billion people; it has always been easier to feel this through smaller sized societies. But while the immensity of the world often seems ungraspable, we can at least recognize that we all are bodies that are bound to life in this condition of precarity. But further than that, it is important to recognize that some lives are more precarious than others; and this difference is vital to understand that the world is one, but in no sense is it homogenous.

Butler’s idea of bodies being connected through vulnerability rather than through other frames of recognizability is applicable to a variety of areas, from ecologist to feminism. However, in this case, being vulnerable to other bodies independently of the state-border they were brought to life is a ground-breaking perspective that will hopefully allow us to reconsider conditions of precarity and war.

However, as much as I intend to have a global approach to life, it often still hurts to look within my own state borders and realize: maybe we already have much problems here as to think beyond these. Coming from a country that is struggling to achieve peace within its own borders makes me wonder whether this thought is obtainable among all members of the national society. While other states are returning to a nationalist discourse, such a shift has not happened in Colombia, and that I know of, it never has. Have we ever been able to recognize all of us Colombians as grievable? Even the narcos? Even the guerrillas? The paramilitary? How about the millions of people who have lost their lives ever since April 9, 1948 when a historical period “La Violencia” (literally translating to “The Violence”) started; and that are still dying in silence today? How are we supposed to see all lives around the world as grievable when we have so constantly struggled to see fellow nationals as grievable individuals from the beginning?

Studying this kind of literature has made me realize that post-modernist and post-structuralist perspectives like Butler’s can help us find alternative solutions to how we study peace and violence. Framing structures like the government and the media often have the most power to help recognize other lives, but it is also us, little agents, that can start a chain reaction. This new vision is the one that promises to last, and it is urgent for the youth to learn about these ideas that challenge our previous knowledge. It is emancipating to know about so many things we still don’t know. It is hopeful to me that we can all grow to change the world if we just reframe.