Woman Kidnapped and Intentionally Pushed Off Cliff

Loretta Kay Carr, 45, and Jessie Eden Kelly have been arrested and charged with capital murder in the death of Mary Elizabeth Isbell, who was reported missing in December 2021 by her ex-husband.

Carr was apprehended by the DeKalb County Sheriff’s office on Sunday, June 25, while Kelly is being held in Pennsylvania awaiting extradition. It is believed that Carr is Kelly’s mother.

The investigation received a new lead on June 20 which was determined to be credible. Following that lead, Carr and Kelly were arrested and human remains were found at the Little River Canyon National Park by a search team on Wednesday, June 28, and were identified as Isbell.

Court documents reveal that Carr is accused of kidnapping Isbell in October 2021 and intentionally causing her death “by pushing her off a cliff,” according to WHNT.

Taliban praise Biden for pushing their propaganda – analysis

Taliban claim Biden’s lie that Al Qaeda isn’t in Afghanistan proves their innocence.

By Daniel Greenfield, FrontPage Magazine

When in doubt lie, then lie some more.

During his statement opposing the Supreme Court’s decision preventing him from hijacking a post 9/11 military relief bill, the Heroes Act, to appropriate over $500 billion to selectively bailout student loan borrowers, Biden was asked about the disaster in Afghanistan after the release of the State Department’s report.

And he responded in typical fashion. By lying.

Q. Mr. President, do you admit failure in Afghanistan? Mistakes? There was a — there was a report on Afghanistan withdrawal, saying there was failure, mistakes. Do you admit there was mistakes during the withdrawal and before?

THE PRESIDENT: No, no. All the evidence is coming back. Do you remember what I said about Afghanistan? I said al-Qaeda would not be there. I said it wouldn’t be there. I said we’d get help from the Taliban. What’s happening now? What’s going on? Read your press. I was right.

Thanks.

What definition of right is that? Even the UN acknowledges that Al Qaeda is integrated with the Taliban leadership.

“With the patronage of the Taliban, Al-Qaeda members have received appointments and advisory roles in the Taliban security and administrative structures,” the U.N. Security Council’s Analytical Support and Sanctions Monitoring Team said in the report earlier in June. It called relations between the Taliban and al-Qaida “strong and symbiotic.”

According to the report, an estimated 400 al-Qaeda fighters were in Afghanistan, and there are signs that the terrorist group “is rebuilding operational capability.”

Whom is Biden quoting when he claims that the Taliban are helping and that Al Qaeda isn’t there? The Taliban.

Taliban Acting Foreign Minister Amir Khan Muttaqi also rejected the presence of any terrorist groups in Afghanistan.

“There are no terrorist groups in Afghanistan. They cannot operate in the country, and we don’t let them operate in Afghanistan,” he said at an event in May organized by the Institute of Strategic Studies Islamabad.

Now the Taliban are claiming that Biden proved them right.

The Afghan Foreign Affairs Ministry said on Saturday that US President Joe Biden’s statements concerning the “non-existence of armed groups in Afghanistan” is “an acknowledgment of reality,” referring to the US president’s remarks about Al-Qaeda not being a threat in the region.

Biden’s statement “refutes the recent report by UN Sanctions Monitoring Team alleging the presence and operation of over twenty armed groups in Afghanistan,” the ministry added. “The Islamic Emirate maintains the policy of not allowing anyone to use the soil of Afghanistan to harm others. Our actions in this regard are not due to the requests or support of anyone, including America.”

Bill Rogio of Long War points out that’s obvious nonsense.

Any illusion that Al Qaeda was no longer operating in Afghanistan following the Taliban’s takeover of the country on Aug. 15, 2021 should have melted away in July 2022, when the U.S killed Al Qaeda emir Ayman al Zawahiri in a drone strike in Kabul. Not only was Zawahiri sheltering in the Afghan capital, he was living in a posh safe house run by a lieutenant of Sirajuddin Haqqani, the Taliban’s Minister of Interior who also serves as one of the group’s two deputy emirs.

The UN report went even further in documenting Al Qaeda’s presence in Afghanistan. According to the Analytical Support and Sanctions Monitoring Team, Al Qaeda is currently operating training camps in six Afghan provinces: Helmand, Zabul, Nangarhar, Nuristan, Badghis, and Kunar, where Al Qaeda is training members of the Movement of the Taliban in Pakistan. Al Qaeda is also running safe houses in Farah, Helmand, Herat and Kabul provinces, as well as a media operations center in Herat.

This is in violation of the totally worthless peace agreement that we should never have participated in.

Bill Roggio, a senior fellow at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies, told VOA that by appointing “double-hatted” al-Qaeda and Taliban leaders, including Baryal, who killed American troops, the Taliban “are openly flouting” the so-called peace agreement.

He said the Taliban “always lied” about their ties with al-Qaida and other terrorist groups, and that the group’s statements cannot be “trusted.”

Meanwhile, Biden is pushing Taliban propaganda. Biden’s latest lie shows that the complicity with the Taliban during the botched retreat was no accident.

The post Taliban praise Biden for pushing their propaganda – analysis appeared first on World Israel News.

Property, Race, Colonialism, and Capitalism

In colonial regimes, dominant conceptions of private property developed alongside racial hierarchies.

Community adjacent to the fur-trading post at Fort Victoria on Vancouver Island, British Columbia with farm and buildings, 1859. (Library of Congress via Wikimedia Commons)

Who can claim ownership of territory? Who is fit to steward land? Who is and isn’t a rational subject capable of entering modern market society? And how do these questions fit into bigger systems of colonialism and capitalism? These are questions taken up by scholar Brenna Bhandar in her book Colonial Lives of Property: Law, Land, and Racial Regimes of Ownership.

Daniel Denvir interviewed Bhandar for the Jacobin podcast the Dig. You can listen to the conversation here. The transcript has been edited for length and clarity.

Daniel Denvir

You write, “Property law was a crucial mechanism for the colonial accumulation of capital, and by the late nineteenth century, had unfolded in conjunction with racial schemas that steadfastly held colonized subjects within their grip. Property laws and racial subjectivity developed in relation to one another, an articulation I capture with the concept of racial regimes of ownership.” To start off, what are “racial regimes of ownership”? And how does that concept capture this interplay between property law and racial orders that are all fundamentally tied together in the colonial context?

Brenna Bhandar

I use the term “racial regimes of ownership” to capture the complex way in which legal subjectivities — and we could go beyond that to say modern concepts of the human — are fundamentally tied to private property ownership in the modern era. So “racial regimes of ownership” is a concept that I develop in the book to explore how rationales for private property ownership emerge in conjunction with a racial concept of the human. We can’t understand modern conceptualizations of race and racial difference without thinking about the legal form of property and vice versa.

Daniel Denvir

You write, “If the possession of land was (and remains) the ultimate objective of colonial power, then property law is the primary means of realizing this desire.” Why is it that possession of land was and is so central to colonial power? What does that reveal about how we should think about land in terms a broader analysis of capitalism?

Brenna Bhandar

The control and possession of land is central to colonial endeavors, primarily because of the main objective of colonial rule, which is resource extraction. In order to extract resources, as much and as efficiently as colonial authorities aimed to do, control over land is basic. We see this right in the genesis of different kinds of colonial enterprises. We can think about this from the late fifteenth century with Spanish and Portuguese colonialism, and then through all of the different forms of European colonial rule, that asserting sovereign jurisdiction over foreign territories is really the beginning point of colonialism.

Asserting sovereign jurisdiction over foreign territories is really the beginning point of colonialism.

Now, that right from the start is actually not necessarily a state function, because we know that many colonial endeavors begin with chartered companies given monopolies over particular forms of trade. If we look at British Columbia, as an example, the Hudson’s Bay Company was given a monopoly charter for a very long time before colonization became a formal state project by the British government. So that, if we look at the charter that the Hudson’s Bay Company was given, it’s not just a monopoly charter over trade, but it is given rights by the colonial state to control a vast territory.

Daniel Denvir

That was rather obvious at the time. These days we tend to think of everything as ephemeral or digital. The raw territoriality of capitalist power can sometimes not be as visible.

Brenna Bhandar

It depends where you’re located. If we think about a country like Canada, like much of the world, resource extraction is still happening. We only need to think about the climate crisis and fossil fuel extraction. If we think about those contemporary forms of resource extraction, maintaining control over indigenous territory remains a key objective of the state-capital nexus. So this is both an old story and still present.

Daniel Denvir

You argue that property law is a primary means of realizing the colonial desire for the possession of land. How does that relate to or depart from prevailing accounts of settler colonialism? I think most listeners might imagine settler colonialism as a less legally mediated process, that laws might make claims on land, but it’s more about the active force of settler violence that makes it a reality. What are the stakes of thinking about colonialism as a project advanced by both high politics and the law on the one hand, and raw violence on the other?

Brenna Bhandar

That’s a great question. I think one of the most useful ways of thinking about that relationship is to consider how the imposition of a colonial legal system required a great deal of violence both at the hands of individual settlers and gunboat diplomacy, or that kind of state-driven warfare. In fact, when we look at property law, contract law, and these legal forms that were absolutely central to imposing a system of private property ownership within settler colonies, they also required forms of violence that were at face value in violation of settler law. The relationship between legality and illegality (or what is on the face of it illegal) — they are constitutively bound to one another.

I’ve been looking at this more recently with an interdisciplinary group of scholars around the doctrine of preemption. The doctrine of preemption is a very good example of this dynamic between property law and individual settler violence. Preemption is a doctrine that essentially allows settlers to stake out un-surveyed land that has not been parceled up and bought or sold by other settlers. Upon registering a preemption, settlers would have to fulfill certain requirements such as cultivating that land or building a house or some kind of structure on that land, but their focus was really on cultivation. Settlers from 1859–1860 onward in the province of British Columbia could preempt up to 160 acres individually. That eventually increased to 320 acres per individual. So settlers are literally driving stakes in the ground of un-surveyed land, doing a sketch of the un-surveyed land, and registering preemptions. If they could show after two years that they had cultivated the land, they would then get a certificate of improvement. That would be the basis for obtaining “fee simple ownership,” meaning private property rights over that land.

What we see in the historical record is that settlers would often preempt land that was clearly a part of an indigenous settlement, lands that had been cultivated by First Nations, and village sites. The preemption legislation stated explicitly that settlers were not supposed to preempt “Indian settlements” or lands that were clearly in use by indigenous communities. What we see in the historical record is a lot of settler violence in order to preempt land, and that violence treated with impunity by the state. It’s an example of how this burgeoning colonial state required individual settlers to preempt land so that the state could solidify its jurisdictional control over this vast area where the state did not have the “manpower” to maintain control over this vast territory.

The story about law and colonial settlement is one of an intimate relationship between individual settler violence and a colonial state that needed settlers to take over land in order to shore up its own control.

The state needed individual settlers to do that. Individual settlers violated the terms of settler law, used a great deal of violence against indigenous peoples, and were treated with impunity by the state. I think the story about law and colonial settlement is actually one of a very intimate relationship between individual settler violence and a colonial state that actually needed settlers to rapaciously take over land in order to shore up its own control over its colonial territory.

Settler Colonies as Legal Laboratories for Land Dispossession

Daniel Denvir

Let’s turn to the beginning of your history, beginning with your refutation of how that story is conventionally told. How is the history of private property law typically conveyed as something more narrowly about England proper? What does that conventional narrative obscure?

Brenna Bhandar

Sticking with that question of what difference does it make to understand settler colonialism through a legal lens, I’m not sure there’s a single narrative or origin story of the development of private property. I suppose within certain more orthodox Marxist traditions, you look at the enclosure movement in England and colonial Ireland to understand the emergence of modern forms of private property. The point that I try to develop in the book is that when it comes to modern property law, we can’t really understand it without looking to the colonies or settler colonies as a kind of legal laboratory.

One thing I look at in the book is the idea of title by registration within the land reform movement in England. That’s another good example of how land law reformers in England over a long period of time tried to change property law to reflect a more commoditized vision of land. They were trying to reform laws so that land could be treated more as a commodity, be exchanged and alienated more easily. They attempted to impose a system of title by registration throughout England. That really failed because they were dealing with a feudal aristocracy who did not want to make their lands more easily alienable because of the fear of losing those lands.

Where are these legal doctrines developed? In many ways they are developed in the colonies, where the colonial state treated indigenous populations as either less than human or as incapable of owning property privately. In some instances in Canada, owning property privately was made contingent on giving up one’s status as an indigenous person, legally speaking. In those contexts, it became much easier for a colonial government to impose different and more novel forms of landholding. Even the doctrine of preemption that I just spoke about a few moments ago is actually not something that’s inherited from England. It’s something that has developed in the United States.

Robert Nichols, in his marvelous book Theft Is Property!, maps some of that history of how preemption comes to be developed in the United States, in order to deal with the problem of squatting. In the United States, preemption enabled squatters to retroactively make their illegal occupation of land legal. The way I described it in the Canadian context is somewhat different. The state didn’t have an excess of squatters squatting land, but it had a need to attract settlers to settle a vast territory. The burgeoning colonial state didn’t really have the power to do it on its own.

The colonial state treated indigenous populations as either less than human or as incapable of owning property privately.

Daniel Denvir

Last year, I talked to Kojo Koram about the colony as a laboratory for policies that have ricocheted back into the metropole, in the years after decolonization and amid neoliberalism. Has the colony as a laboratory for political economy that ricochets back into the metropole been the case from the very beginning?

Brenna Bhandar

I think so. There’s a few different elements of that. One is that the state was dealing with a different demographic and different political challenges than legislators were dealing with back in the UK.

In the colonies, the state was needing to develop and innovate laws and policies at speed. Governor James Douglas in British Columbia had a very real problem when it came to figuring out how to financially sustain this burgeoning colony. The land policies he adopted were really in response to urgent problems. Much of the innovation, the creation of novel and partially novel legal doctrines, was circulating through different colonial sites. With the doctrine of preemption, for instance, Douglas borrowed that from Oregon, where it had been used quite pervasively. The personnel were also circulating through these colonial networks: different colonial administrators, colonial surveyors who may have had experience in the Caribbean, South Asia, Africa, and then they landed in another part of the British Empire. They brought with them this knowledge and these practices.

I think that there was a lot more fluidity and experimentation that was happening in the colonial world. It goes against the idea that colonialism involves a one-way export of laws and policies from the UK out to the colonies. I think that is the way colonialism has been understood for a long time.

Ireland as Private Property Playground

Daniel Denvir

You’re saying that from the perspective of the colonial administrator there was both an urgent need and the political space to innovate, as twisted as it is, with something like title by registration, which the aristocracy back home were resisting. It was one of their points of conflict with the rising bourgeoisie. Ultimately, those ascendant economic forces allowed or propelled these methods developed in the colonies to be applied in the metropole, regardless of what the aristocracy had to say about it.

Brenna Bhandar

That’s right. It took much longer for title by registration to be implemented widely in England. In England and Wales, it took until around 1925 or just before that land legislation reform, whereas it was introduced in the colonies in the 1860s.

I’m just focused on property law, but if we look at Nasser Hussein’s work, for instance, the wonderful book he wrote The Jurisprudence of Emergency: Colonialism and the Rule of Law, that’s an examination of how the law of emergency takes on certain valences in the colonial setting. It has a lot of explanatory value for understanding how emergency laws are put into effect in our contemporary moment to control racialized populations in different European states. One could look at contract law and criminal law. The scope for this kind of analysis is fairly unlimited.

Daniel Denvir

You write, “It is clear that historically speaking, in common-law jurisdictions, use that would justify an ownership right was defined by cultivation, and cultivation was understood within the relatively narrow parameters of English agrarian capitalism.”.

How did this ideology of improvement take root in English political economy beginning in the seventeenth century as part of conquering and colonizing Ireland? What about that early settler-colonial project, alongside the rise of capitalism, propelled forth this new and abstracted way of valuing people and land, and the relationship between people and land?

Brenna Bhandar

That’s a massive question, because it brings up the theme of agrarian capitalism and the development of agrarian capitalism over centuries. It’s fair to say that there was differential development of agrarian capitalism in different European states. We see agrarian capitalism and the rationales underlying different forms of landholding developing quite differently in England versus France versus Germany that were specific to the preexisting histories of feudal land holding in those places.

In the seventeenth century, we see the emergence of a concept of racial value in relation to the Irish, which is defined through their capacities for certain kinds of labor in agricultural production.

Going to the specific issue of use and improvement, if we think about colonial Ireland, I look at the work of William Petty, one of the early thinkers of a concept of value that encapsulates the value of human individuals defined solely in terms of their labor power, in conjunction with a certain kind of land use — cultivation — that would produce yields that will support a growing capitalist market economy, food production, and agriculture.

Petty is an interesting figure because in the seventeenth century, we see the emergence of a concept of racial value in relation to the Irish, which is defined through their capacities for certain kinds of labor in agricultural production.

Daniel Denvir

Petty was not just an economist, he was also a colonial administrator in Ireland. He developed these ideas to solve practical problems of settler-colonial domination and governance.

Brenna Bhandar

He is recognized as a polymath by historians and political economists. He was a surgeon sent to Ireland  to survey the land in order to pay off debts to the privateers, the adventurers, and the military personnel who had, at that point, subdued Ireland through colonial conquest. Even the titles of his works, The Political Anatomy of Ireland and The Political Arithmetic, took on a scientific approach to measuring human value. That kind of political economy that fuses together a racial concept of value with political economy is quite important in thinking about how colonial treatment of indigenous labor, indigenous lives, and indigenous land emerged in other places after that.

Daniel Denvir

People tend to attribute to John Locke this idea that improvement establishes a legitimate right to property. What do we miss when we look only at Locke and not Petty to explain this idea? What’s the interplay between the two?

Brenna Bhandar

On that question of racial value, it’s rendered more bare in Petty’s work. Locke’s work is very different, because in the Two Treatises of Government and other texts, he essentially tried to secularize what was, until that time, a divine or theological justification for ownership. I think of Locke’s work as much more within a political philosophy, jurisprudential vein, whereas William Petty’s thinking is on political anatomy in all of these different ways.

He’s a polymath and a surgeon. His work and thinking about the value of human life is quite distinct from Locke’s more political, philosophical justifications for private ownership. Locke’s are more firmly ensconced within political philosophy and jurisprudence.

Daniel Denvir

You cite Baconian empiricism as a point of departure.

Brenna Bhandar

In Petty’s work, we see more of a turn toward taxonomy and classification and that sort of natural science that was emerging at that time, which became foundational to racial thinking. In those kinds of scientific texts, optimization and categorization were part of a shift from a more theological understanding of civilizational or racial difference that’s rooted in religious difference. Petty’s work is also located in that crucible, changing from theological, religious justifications for colonization to more scientific or empirically based ideas of racial difference.

Daniel Denvir

You write, “The brutal displacement and dispossession of thousands of Irish that preceded the displacement of First Nations from their lands, based on the political arithmetic of Petty and those influenced by his work, such as John Locke and Adam Smith, is testament to the violence engendered by methods of measurement and quantification, and conceptualizations of value defined primarily by economic productivity.”

What did the British deem unfinished about their settler-colonial project in Ireland, once the military role had been accomplished? What did they determine was still left undone in terms of, as you write, “How to render the Irish into a complete state of submission”? How did Petty’s methods of valuing land and people help them accomplish it?

Brenna Bhandar

A lot of William Petty’s writing on the Irish reflects a concern with how to make the Irish as civilized and as valuable as the English.

That’s a great question. What we see in the work of Petty is that there’s a civilizational project at play, and a lot of his writing on the Irish reflects a concern with how to make the Irish as civilized and as valuable as the English. In the book, I talk about these passages where he contemplates the interbreeding of Irish and English men and women, in the same way that you would breed different plant varieties to strengthen the result. I mean, it’s that conception of civilizational uplift or improvement that is at stake in the British colonization of Ireland. That’s obviously a way of thinking about the differences that we see take place all throughout the colonial world.

Daniel Denvir

You write,

While modern biological racism had yet to emerge, conceptions of racial difference and, crucially, European superiority were conditioned at this time by the concept of land use described above. While Petty saw the Irish as capable of improvement, Jews were cast outside this paradigm altogether on account, at least in part, of their tenuous relationship to the land. The antisemitic trope of the wandering Jew that was all too familiar by the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries colors Petty’s assessment of Jews in Europe. Avoiding tax by not participating in the general economy, with no attachment to the land, Jews were cast outside the boundaries of eligibility within the primary economy of landowners and laborers.

What does this early distinction between the Irish and the Jews reveal about some of the basic contours of this emerging racial regime of ownership and about how it would be applied in changing ways in the era that would follow, defined by overseas colonialism and slavery?

Brenna Bhandar

Petty’s writings about Jews both mimic and echo long-standing forms of antisemitism. That idea of the Jew as the wandering, nomadic figure who has no attachment to land, which is obviously an antisemitic trope, fits into Petty’s emphasis on human value and productivity being linked to one’s capacity to engage in a certain kind of agricultural labor. He compared the Jew to Irish peasants, whom he saw as capable of being reformed.

But what he found perplexing about the Irish is that some Irish peasants didn’t seem to exhibit the desire for uplift and improvement. He wrote in very racist terms about their mode of living, their mode of subsistence agriculture, their cultural and linguistic practices. We see the figure of the redeemable native versus the nomadic figure. We also see during this period the criminalization of the “vagabond” or “nomad” — the nomadic figure who’s not tied to a fixed, governable, controllable kind of labor attached to a particular estate. We see a kind of prefiguration of the way the figure of the nomad becomes cast in an anthropological frame as a kind of premodern subject.

First Nations Displacement in British Columbia

Daniel Denvir

Let’s turn to the Americas and specifically British Columbia, where you write about a colonial surveyor and first lieutenant governor, Joseph Trutch. In your account, Trutch’s methods of land surveying laid the ground for unprecedented seizures of land by British imperial agents, breaking open a new period of settler-colonial strategy.

How did he apply these Lockean and/or Petty-inspired principles that we’ve been discussing? How did he apply them in assessing and appropriating indigenous land? How do you square what I read as a sort of tension with Trutch? Because on the one hand, he had this intense commitment to the ideological framework that you’re describing, but also you discovered in his latters or whatever archives you were reading, he was unapologetically scheming to get rich.

How did the ideology and that mere desire to get rich work together? To what extent was the ideology more of an alibi?

Brenna Bhandar

Let’s start with the second part of the question. I don’t think that one can separate that desire to profit personally from the larger state project of colonization, from the racial ideologies that are informing that person’s everyday practices on the ground. The desire for personal profit is analogous to and bound up with the interests of the colonial-settler state. It is part of the same scene of preemption I was speaking about earlier, where the state is relying on the fact that there are individual immigrant settlers who want to come and amass profit and accumulate capital.

The desire for personal profit is analogous to and bound up with the interests of the colonial-settler state.

The state needs those kinds of settlers. and those individual settlers need a state that’s going to put into effect the legal, political, and material infrastructure that allows them to. Those two things go hand in hand. That personal greed motive is very important to the state and to who Trutch was and what he did in terms of dramatically reducing the lands that had been set aside as reserves for First Nations.

Many historians and geographers who write about colonial settlement often characterize Trutch as being worse than other colonial administrators, who wanted to recognize what were then referred to as Indian titles. James Douglas, the first governor of the amalgamated colony of Vancouver Island and the mainland, which became the colony of British Columbia, is often looked upon as someone who recognized indigenous land ownership and was a more benevolent figure than Trutch, who was explicitly and violently racist. It’s important to recognize that these positions are just on a spectrum of colonization, at the core of which is racial difference. Whether it took a softer form or this very harsh form under Trutch, the settler-colonial project in British Columbia is one of land theft.

Now, Trutch is quite a despicable figure because he committed fraud when it came to the reduction of reserve land, in the sense that he blatantly ignored the boundaries that had hitherto been drawn around reserved lands. He is seen as a despicable figure, but he’s part and parcel of the colonial project.

Daniel Denvir

The extent to which you describe him as often being portrayed as an outlier compared to those more contractually oriented, “let’s do it by the book” settler colonialists reminds me of this general argument you make about how the history of property is often described as,

The contradictory and uneven imposition of a system of title by registration in different settler-colonial contexts challenges a developmental narrative of property law, in which possession as the basis of ownership has slowly been displaced by a system of title by registration. Rather, it seems evident that these two rationales for ownership coexist alongside one another. The fragmented and recombinant nature of property law in the settler colony reflects the reality of colonial modernity. The imperatives of settler colonialism, itself a capitalist formation, require the maintenance of noncapitalist rationales for the appropriation of indigenous lands. Dispossession achieved through ongoing forms of primitive accumulation requires a panoply of premodern and modern property logics that operate in conjunction with one another, reflecting the fragmented and contradictory nature of colonial modernity.

That’s a really powerful passage, and it reflects the necessary simultaneity under which the broader capitalist order always has capitalist and noncapitalist forms of domination.

Brenna Bhandar

Absolutely. This is an insight that emerges with postcolonial theory. I think about some of the work done by subaltern studies scholars like Dipesh Chakrabarty’s Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference, and Ranajit Guha’s work. Within colonial spaces, the idea that there is some kind of linear teleological development is a myth. We see that very clearly in the realm of property law among the different rationales that I look at, but we could also think of other rationales.

Within colonial spaces, the idea that there is some kind of linear teleological development is a myth.

Occupation, possession, and then this more abstract form of ownership through title by registration operate recombinantly in many different contemporary contexts. We see struggles over ownership being waged on all of those fronts at the same time. If we think about the dispossession of Palestinians, throughout historic Palestine, we can see examples where occupation, possession, and then the title deeds are three fronts in the struggle over land dispossession. We can think about the struggles of different First Nations in British Columbia who are trying to defend their lands from catastrophic forms of resource extraction. We think about the Wet’suwet’en First Nation in northern British Columbia, where taking possession of or occupying one’s traditional lands is the primary means of defending that land from corporations who have leasehold interests over that land — land that is nominally within the hands of the crown.

In fact it has been recognized as unceded land, meaning it was actually never legally given up by the Wet’suwet’en. I think this point about the recombinant nature of the way in which property law operates to dispossess is an important way of understanding how it functions.

Indigenous Displacement as Precondition for Private Market of Ownership

Daniel Denvir

As the settler project developed, Britain and Britain’s successor North American states forcibly relocated indigenous people into discrete reserves and reservations. Why was the establishment of Indian reserves a necessary precondition for the private market of individual ownership?

Brenna Bhandar

The idea of the reserve doesn’t originate here. There’s some historical evidence to show that the idea of the tiny areas of reserves, as it developed in British Columbia, is borrowed from South Africa. That idea and practice of creating reserves is essential to the creation of a market in private property. Many First Nations didn’t relate to land as private property, with everything that system of property ownership entails like the possessive individual. So to create a market in private property on indigenous territories required the creation of at least two different economies of land.

The idea and practice of creating reserves is essential to the creation of a market in private property.

One is a market in private property, and the other is the reserve economy in the space of the reserve. Colonial authorities attempted through pieces of legislation like the Indian Act (and other legislation that preceded that) to control all of the kinds of economic activity and cultural practices that are allowed to take place within the bounds of the reserve. Infamously the federal government controlled the movement of indigenous peoples on and off the reserve during certain periods of time, and land on the reserve was not held as individual private property. Reserved land was held in trust for the First Nation.

So these two economies of property are very much bound together and related to one another. It became the way that the colonial state dealt with indigenous displacement.

Daniel Denvir

The law of preemption put the theory of improvement into practice for settlers, allowing them to appropriate land by mixing their labor with it. But that law did not apply in the same way to indigenous people. What does it reveal that it was the act of cultivation that secured white settlers control of land and also, in a sense, made them white, but that indigenous people could not likewise become white by doing the same? It seems like this is a recurring dynamic across multiple settler-colonial contexts, including both the Irish and Palestinian cases.

Brenna Bhandar

It’s quite clear that indigenous peoples in British Columbia and in the rest of the country cultivated their land. I think after finishing the book, and moving on to look at preemption in more detail recently, there’s a lot of evidence to show that settlers would either ignore or destroy crops that had been planted by First Nation peoples. The idea that indigenous peoples do not cultivate their land — going back to that Lockean fantasy that America existed as this uncultivated wild — is a racial trope. It’s also a con, because it’s clear when we look at the historical record that settlers would routinely destroy crops of First Nation peoples.

I think that this ideology of improvement is cast in racial terms precisely to dispossess indigenous peoples of their land and to justify it on the basis of this idea of cultivation.

The idea that indigenous peoples do not cultivate their land — going back to that Lockean fantasy that America existed as this uncultivated wild — is a racial trope.

Now, I’m not saying that indigenous communities here cultivated their lands in exactly the same way as settlers may have. The way settlers may have emulated some idea of the homestead, for instance, may have been different. However, what is clear from the historical record is that oftentimes what were recognized by settlers as crops and cultivated land were simply destroyed. What we see is a kind of creation of that Lockean fantasy of the wasteland through a great deal of violence. It’s making land into waste so it can therefore be appropriated.

Daniel Denvir

You write, “Being an owner and having the capacity to appropriate have long been considered prerequisites for attaining the status of the proper subject of modern law, a fully individuated citizen-subject.” It turns out, in other words, that political liberalism is deeply historically embedded in capitalist and colonial social relations.

What is the relationship between wage labor, property, and this particular sort of subjectivity premised on the notion that it’s subjectivity within interiority, and a rational interiority at that?

Brenna Bhandar

In some ways, there are two different ways of understanding that relationship. Between wage labor, property ownership, and this proper subject who desires to both own property and has the capacity to alienate one’s labor in the marketplace, let’s say, is obviously the critique of that relationship. That is a core part of Marx’s critique of capitalism. We can understand that relationship as an oppressive disciplining force, core to the constitution of the modern legal subject, the modern human subject even.

We can also see it as a racial construct. The idea that the proper legal subject is one who has the capacity to freely alienate his or her labor means that vast swathes of humanity — who were either enslaved or indentured or simply did not have the capacity to freely alienate their labor — fell outside of it. That became a kind of teleological understanding of development.

And when freedom comes, that very notion of freedom (as explored by Saidiya Hartman, Denise Ferreira da Silva, Fred Moten, and others) is also bound to this racial history of enslavement. We can think about the racial histories of indentureship as well. I think that in addition to the idea of freedom that underlies the idea of one’s capacity to freely alienate labor, there’s also the figure of the proprietorial subject. That is also clearly a racial construct.

Daniel Denvir

You address the scholarship on aboriginal rights and argue that it sometimes takes for granted that colonial imported property laws are racist, and in doing so treats racism as a sort of self-explanatory explanation as to “how property law functions as a form of domination.” Certain readings conjure up race and racism as an almost transcendent force. What do those sorts of explanations elide about how race is constructed, in a way that’s mutually constitutive of capitalism, colonialism, and property law?

Brenna Bhandar

This is a really important distinction in various fields of critical work — work that admits that race, racism, and the dispossession of indigenous lands are a part of colonial history. If we take that kind of example, it does not really delve into how racial thinking and how concepts of racial difference are conceptually bound to legal doctrines of property, ownership, and contract. The kind of work I’m interested in doing is trying to crack open the legal doctrines, but also more broadly the juridical, to understand how conceptions of racial difference are constitutively bound to the property law doctrines that emerge in the colonial setting. It’s a very different kind of conceptual work, one which I think is very important, because in the former kind of work, you just really lose sight of the importance of race altogether. It doesn’t really do much for our understanding of how racism operates — or crucially, it’s contemporary manifestations — to just sort of admit by the by that this was racist in some ways.

Property and Palestine

Daniel Denvir

In Palestine, proof of cultivation has long been key to determining legal, legitimate ownership of land, at least for Jews and at least on the discursive level. You write, “It was through the mixing of his sweat with the soil of Palestine that the exiled Jew would redeem himself, re-forming his attachment to the land of Zion, while at the same time creating a viable and sustainable Jewish economy in Palestine.”

Revealingly, it was these much older forms of European antisemitism, the ones that held that Jews were radically different, in part because of their lack of ties to the land — it was that European legacy of antisemitism “that arguably informs the Zionist emphasis on laboring on the land as key to the redemption of the Jewish people in Palestine.”

How did this ideology, a sort of funhouse mirror of the very sort of antisemitism that shaped these forms of property law from the earliest days, shape early Zionist settlement? And what sort of understanding of Palestinians’ relationship to the land did that ideology require to justify the dispossession of Palestinians?

Brenna Bhandar

It’s pretty explicit in the writings of some of the early Zionists, Theodor Herzl and Arthur Ruppin in particular, who I look at, and Chaim Azriel Weizmann, and other sorts of founding fathers of Zionist settlement. They were heavily influenced by models of European colonialism. The models of European colonialism that involved the dispossession of indigenous peoples and the imposition of a different forms of agrarian capitalism were part of what early Zionists foresaw as being central to the Israeli Zionist project.

The models of European colonialism that involved the dispossession of indigenous peoples and the imposition of a different forms of agrarian capitalism were part of what early Zionists foresaw as being central to the Israeli Zionist project.

It’s also clear that the antisemitism that you just described, that I describe in the book, was something that early Zionists were very much attempting to react against. So in this quite perverse way, you have a very understandable reaction to that long history of antisemitism that focuses on the lack of attachment to land informing a project that is modeled on European colonialism, which then also conflates with certain ideas of blood and soil as a basis for membership in what would become the Israeli state.

Daniel Denvir

As we discussed earlier, “Even where indigenous ownership conforms to European standards of proof, the imperative to legally possess and displace indigenous populations from their land overwhelms more contemporary rationales for ownership.” This is certainly the case in Palestine. As you write, “It is difficult to square Israel’s claims of being the only democracy in the Middle East, when the basic tenets of a liberal democracy, the protection of private property rights, are denied to some of its own citizens on the basis of a racialized national identity.”

What sort of alibis or ideologies are put forward to justify this entirely instrumental approach to property ownership? What does that instrumentality look like as law when implemented, to dispossess Palestinians, and in your analysis, Bedouin in particular?

Brenna Bhandar

I think this is where we see the same rationale or the same nationalist drive take quite fragmented legal forms. One of the rationales that is put forward by the Israeli state when it comes to the dispossession of Palestinian landholders is that of security. Security is used as an excuse, within the bounds of Israel and the West Bank. In a Benthamite rationale for private property ownership, security is absolutely key. The expectation that one will be secure in one’s property right is really the key rationalization for private property ownership that Jeremy Bentham gives us. The property logic is quite present there.

At the same time, there’s quite a fragmented legal regime, where, at least from the perspective of lawyers in the West Bank, there’s often been a focus on international law and the law of occupation as a way of trying to resist and argue against land dispossession and population transfer and displacement. Within the bounds of Jerusalem, there’s the land-use planning laws and municipal bylaws and regulations to dispossess Palestinians. Then of course, we have the situation of Sheikh Jarrah, which goes back to the attempts by Israel to reduce what is a situation of dispossession of Palestinians into a real-estate problem.

In the Naqab, in the south of Israel, as I look at in the book, there’s the situation of the Bedouin, which has by some advocates been cast in the framing of aboriginal rights discourse. This fragmentation from a legal point of view is in many ways problematic, because looking at it from a land law or property law perspective, as many Palestinians have done (most notably, recently Suhad Bishara has written a brilliant PhD dissertation on the dispossession of Palestinians through land law), really reveals how that is a unified project. On the face of it, we have different legal regimes, but underlying that, I think there’s quite a unified use of land law and emergency powers to dispossess Palestinians.

Daniel Denvir

How does the Zionist ideology work today now that agriculture represents just this tiny percentage of Israeli GDP? Kibbutzes are often affluent Ashkenazi enclaves, and the Israeli working classes are either Palestinian or Mizrahi.

Brenna Bhandar

Maybe the framework of racial capitalism would be interesting to consider in relation to the brand of Zionism that has become so predominant in Israel today. I think that we’re looking at a state now where fascist parties are represented in the Knesset. There’s a reemergence of a more theologically driven justification for Palestinian dispossession. We are seeing a real resurgence of some of the thinking that’s always been present in political Zionism, that the Jewish people have a relationship to the land that stretches back to biblical times.

Daniel Denvir

You write, “What is of significance, however, is that the early Zionists were influenced not primarily by Lockean property rationales based on the imperatives of a burgeoning agrarian capitalism, but by German idealism. The notion of the volk as being of the land, rooted in the soil of their national homeland, forms the basis for entitlement to a state based on their natural ties to that territory. Zionism was a political, spiritual, and territorial nationalist project.”

You also write that the “Zionist colonization project was not primarily driven by economic or financial considerations of profit and resource exploitation, and herein lies one of the differences between the founding of Israel and other settler colonies.”

Much of your book draws on examples from a specifically British common law tradition, which formed the basis of legal thinking and practice in North America and Australia. But legal thinking for much of the rest of the world draws from different tributaries, which makes the Zionist case study interesting here. What does this more complex genealogy in the case of Israel reveal about how we ought to analyze racial regimes of ownership across the entire capitalist world system? Does the Zionist example give us a hint of the diversity of racial regimes that extend beyond the common law settler colony across this extremely variegated, capitalist world system that we live in today?

Brenna Bhandar

One of the things that the Palestinian situation should draw our attention to is that all of these different colonial contexts have a different kind of historical specificity. If we think about Palestine, and we think about the British mandate that precedes the creation of the State of Israel in 1948, it draws our attention toward the Ottoman Empire. It draws our attention to a different history, if we’re just thinking about land, law, and property — it draws our attention to the fact that Palestine is ensconced within a very different political economy than, let’s say, indigenous communities in different parts of Canada in the nineteenth century. There are different kinds of land reform happening within the Ottoman legal arena with the land reforms of 1858 that, of course, are then manipulated, changed, transformed, and drawn upon by the British during the mandate. There is a huge difference — in the prehistory of the settler-colonial formation that is Israel-Palestine — between that context and others.

All of these different colonial contexts have a different kind of historical specificity.

Now, does that mean that we should not examine how there are legal techniques of domination and legal relations of power used in South Australia, or in Algeria by the French, that are very similar to those used in Palestine? I think it’s really a valuable exercise to really draw out the similarities as a point of political solidarity.

Daniel Denvir

The entire structure of our economy and politics in the United States and many other places is built around real estate and property ownership in general. In particular, just in the United States, look at the endlessly appreciating housing market being the near-sole vehicle for wealth-building. It substitutes for an actual welfare state for the limited portion of the population in the United States that can secure access to homeownership. In fact, the more homeownership appreciates, to act as a substitute welfare state for those inside the system, the worse things get for everyone outside the homeownership system, and the harder it gets to break into the homeownership system.

How should this reality inform how we analyze the contours of capitalist power in the United States today? And perhaps elsewhere? How do the histories you tell in your book help us form that analysis of a capitalist order that is so profoundly about real estate?

Brenna Bhandar

I really liked the concept of the “real estate state” that’s developed by Samuel Stein. You’re absolutely right in your diagnosis. In terms of thinking about how these histories of settler colonialism inform our understanding of the contemporary real estate state, we can see that the inauguration of the economy of private property is all about creating a market in land. We have in this conversation focused a lot on the ideology of improvement and the emphasis on agriculture historically, which also then takes on a kind of metaphysical quality in the context of Israel-Palestine, rather than an economic reality. But I think what we see with the real estate state is obviously a massive shift to a different concept of value: that aspect of ownership that is the capacity for owners to speculate, which is actually a very old story, but maybe that takes on a different life juridically and in terms of what is valuable about ownership.

The fact that you mentioned, which is so depressing, but also very true, is the idea that with the deterioration of any kind of social welfare state, the objective of becoming an owner or homeowner or a rentier becomes the path to security. One way of challenging that is also not a new story. We see it happening really vibrantly in all kinds of urban spaces: the fight against corporate landlords, the fight for rent control, the idea of making ownership less lucrative or less valuable.

When I think about it, conceptually but also practically, I think the answer lies in making private ownership valueless. That’s an abolitionist objective, in a sense. I think about Andreas Malm’s phrase “property will cost us the earth.” In thinking about survivability, and thinking about livability and thinking about things like the climate crisis, trying to make ownership less lucrative and valuable really ought to be at the core of our political thinking and struggle.

A massive example of this is through the pandemic, and the struggle over the proprietary ownership of the patents for the COVID vaccine. If that’s any sign of where we’re headed, then the future looks very bleak. Those struggling for a loosening of the proprietary powers of the patent didn’t really succeed in the way that many of us had hoped. I think the idea of trying to create the conditions where it no longer pays to be an owner is one way of thinking about this problem.

Osip Mandelstam Was More Than a Literary Saint

The great Russian poet Osip Mandelstam, a victim of Stalin’s terror, has often been viewed as a martyr. It’s a critical reception that has veiled Mandelstam’s literary greatness, which was evident long before Stalin came to power.

Photo of Osip Mandelstam made by the NKVD after his arrest, 1938. (Wikimedia Commons)

Osip Mandelstam is an iconic figure. In Russia, and all over the world, he is seen as a martyr for poetry, someone who paid with his life for his verses. He is known, above all, as the victim of political persecution and the author of a trenchant poem exposing Stalin as the “corrupter of the human soul.” His death in 1938 under appalling circumstances, in a forced labor camp, also contributed significantly to his worldwide fame. Mandelstam, victim of twentieth-century totalitarianism, imprisoned in a Kolyma gulag: this is often the only way in which he is portrayed.

More than any other Russian poet, Mandelstam fills the bill of a legendary literary saint. All the elements of hagiography are ready to hand: his early vocation; his experience of poverty; his persecution; his martyrdom; and, finally, his triumph in the eyes of posterity. Mandelstam is seen as the embodiment of poesy, conforming to the cliché of the true poet’s path of bitter suffering on earth. The proud and self-confident, sharp-tongued and confrontational, witty and sensual Mandelstam, who loved life, and had absolutely no wish to become a martyr, is usually left out of the picture.

His posthumous fate also forms part of his legend. His widow, Nadezhda Mandelstam, played a leading role in this. Almost miraculously, she survived the Stalin epoch. She learned Mandelstam’s poems by heart, so as to preserve them from suppression by the dictator’s bloodhounds. She hid his papers in the attics and cellars of a few friends and accomplices. She finally had his work smuggled out of the country to the United States, and, in the first volume of her monumental memoirs, Hope Against Hope (1970), she revealed to an astonished world the extent of Mandelstam’s isolation and persecution, but also the courageous way he stuck to his convictions through the darkest years of the Stalin terror.

Myths and legends create their own truth. They cover up the unsightly and the unheroic. They are cut-down versions of reality. But they are not entirely mendacious. People have withstood political repression and spiritual emptiness, harassment and interrogations in prison, and even concentration camp life, not least because of the glow of their radiance. This applies both to the victims of an unjust regime who have remained anonymous and to those who have attained unofficial eminence, such as the popular singer Vladimir Vysotsky, he of the hoarse vodka-soaked voice, the idol of Soviet youth in the 1970s, who frankly recognized that Mandelstam’s poems had saved him from madness and death.

In her essay “Poetry and Anthropology,” the lyrical poet Olga Sedakova recalls the case of a dissident who was arrested in the 1970s and interrogated every day for several months. A certain moment arrived after which everything became a matter of indifference for him:

I awoke with the feeling that today I would sign everything that was laid before me. Not because of fear, but because I didn’t care. Nothing was important any more. Then Mandelstam’s poem “Theta and Iota of the Greek Flute” suddenly came into my mind. All of it, from beginning to end. And I experienced what religious people presumably feel during Communion. . . . I sensed the whole world, literally the whole world, with myself as part of it. After this experience I was absolutely certain that I would not sign anything.

Poems, of course, do not just bring comfort and allow people to hold out against oppression: they are complex aesthetic organisms. But we should not ignore the possibility that they may be magically effective in extreme situations. People who sleep safely in their beds and have not endured suffering should not be too quick to dismiss a captive’s spiritual means of survival as an empty solace.

Here is another example: Joseph Brodsky, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1987, was proud to associate himself in his “Memories of Leningrad” with the generation of young Russian poets “for whom Giotto and Mandelstam were more imperative than their own personal destinies.” In his essay “The Child of Civilization” (1977) he emphasized Mandelstam’s significance for the nonconformist artists and intellectuals of the Soviet Union in the 1960s and 1970s. Mandelstam’s voice, he said, was a voice:

that stays behind when its owner is gone. He was . . . a modern Orpheus: sent to hell, he never returned, while his widow dodged across one sixth of the earth’s surface, clutching the saucepan with his songs rolled up inside, memorizing them by night in the event that they were found by Furies with a search warrant. These are our metamorphoses, our myths.

In this passage, Brodsky calls on the supreme myth about poetry, as it has come down to us from Ovid’s Metamorphoses (Books 10 and 11) and Virgil’s Georgics (Book 4). It is the myth of Orpheus, the “flawless bard,” the demigod, whose verses were heard with pleasure by wild animals, trees, and even stones, who overcame the God of the underworld and even death itself with his singing, and who finally died a sacrificial death, decapitated by the Maenads. The epithet of the modern Orpheus encapsulates the terror of the twentieth century. Mandelstam, another flawless bard, also had to suffer political persecution, concentration camps, and infernal torment.

Beyond Martyrdom

But the persistent reduction of the poet’s life to a tale of martyrdom has led to a failure to recognize Mandelstam’s literary greatness, which was already evident long before Stalin came to power. In his obituary of Nadezhda Mandelstam (1981), Brodsky has this to say: “It is an abominable fallacy that suffering makes for greater art. Suffering blinds, deafens, ruins, and often kills. Osip Mandelstam was a great poet before the revolution.”

The Mandelstam myth was woven not just by Russian artists, dissidents, and civil rights supporters. Western intellectuals who were strongly influenced by Nadezhda Mandelstam’s memoirs also played a part. Pier Paolo Pasolini wrote in 1972 that Mandelstam lived “like a dazzled creature on a completely unfamiliar meadow.” He therefore led a life of alienation, “the model of which can perhaps be found in Kafka’s novels or in his dreams.” Mandelstam’s life as Kafka’s nightmare? Mandelstam as a Russian Joseph K.? It is a tempting idea. After all, Osip is a Russified form of the biblical name Joseph. . . . Or should we perhaps see Mandelstam as world poetry’s Land Surveyor, struggling in vain against the obscure machinations of a hierarchy ensconced in an unfathomable Castle — or Kremlin? Does “A Hunger Artist” come to mind? Or the tormented figure of K. in The Trial? Or the short story “In the Penal Colony”? These are the twentieth century’s visions of hell, which Pasolini thought he could perceive in Mandelstam’s life. It should be added, however, that Pasolini was one of the few writers who also paid attention to features of that life other than martyrdom. Hence his evaluation concludes with a fine paradox:

Nimble, clever, witty, elegant, one might even say dandyish, joyful, sensual, always in love, honest, clear-sighted, and happy even in the darkness of nervous breakdown and political terror, youthful, indeed almost boyish, weird and sophisticated, loyal and imaginative, smiling and patient, Mandelstam has bestowed on us some of the most felicitous poetry of the century.

The collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 — the hundredth anniversary of Mandelstam’s birth! — brought an end to the age of mythmaking. Mandelstam’s elevation to cultlike status, which made him the patron saint of Russian poetry and the movement for citizens’ rights, could not last forever. During 1990, the year before the end of the Soviet Union, it finally became possible to publish the whole of Mandelstam’s works in Russia, but that date also marked the start of his demythologization and of attempts to undermine his legacy. People started to produce anti-memoirs, which attempted to undermine the powerful hold exerted until then by Nadezhda Mandelstam’s autobiographical writings. We shall examine this phase of the reception of Mandelstam in Russia in the final chapter of our book.

The above remarks underline the two big pitfalls that need to be avoided when writing a biography of Osip Mandelstam: on the one hand, a continued weaving of the legend of his sanctity, and, on the other, a modish attempt to destroy his personal reputation. Mandelstam does not need to be portrayed either as a saint or as a monster. For the whole of his life, he could not be anything other than what he was: a poet. If we adopt this approach, we can concentrate on what is essential: not the transfiguring myths of the past, nor the scandalous revelations of the present, but the quality of his poetry. Mandelstam’s position as one of the most significant poets of the twentieth century has never been seriously challenged, irrespective of fashionable swings in the reputational pendulum.

Osip Mandelstam does not need to be portrayed either as a saint or as a monster.

We therefore have to be careful to avoid both stumbling blocks, so that we neither surround him with the halo of legend, nor do a hatchet job on his personal life. Indeed, perhaps the whole genre of biography should be shunned. Mandelstam himself repeatedly expressed his disapproval of the biographical approach. He viewed it as a precursor of the novel, a genre he thought hopelessly outdated in the modern age. In his 1922 essay “The End of the Novel” he writes:

What happens to the novel after this is simply a story of the dispersion of biography as a form of personal existence; more than dispersion — the catastrophic collapse of biography . . . Europeans are now cast out of their biographies, like balls from the pocket of the billiard table. . . . Besides, the interest in psychological motivation . . . is radically undermined and discredited by the . . . impotence of psychological motives before those real forces whose punitive verdict on psychological motivation becomes crueller from hour to hour.

Dispersed biographies, human existences chucked around all over the place like billiard balls: the “real forces” of the twentieth century and their cruel “punitive verdict” seem to have brought an end to both the conventional novel and the traditional biography. Despite the way it summons up the location and atmosphere of his childhood, Mandelstam’s essay in autobiography, The Noise of Time (1925), contains an abrupt denial of its autobiographical character:

My desire is not to speak about myself but to track down the age, the noise and the germination of time. My memory is inimical to all that is personal. . . . My memory is not loving but inimical, and it labours not to reproduce but to distance the past. The raznochinets needs no memory — it is enough for him to tell of the books he has read, and his biography is done.

Let us calmly follow Mandelstam in reviling biography: biography is tyranny, its enforced chronology — from birth to death — enslaves us. Voyeurism and fetishism are also inherent in the genre. To prise open the secrets of a person’s life is an act of outrageous impudence.

The essential task is to understand the literary work of a poet, not to accumulate facts about his life. The vicissitudes of the poet’s life-experience pale into insignificance in face of the eventfulness of his poetry, the miracles of his language. Poetry is a revolt against the rule of time, the tyranny of Chronos. A lifetime is nothing in comparison with the protracted and occult process of poetry’s emergence. No one knew this better than Marina Tsvetaeva, who set down her memories of Mandelstam in “History of a Dedication,written in 1931 during her Parisian exile: “Humour aside, I think that whenever he was not writing (and he was always not-writing, namely, one poem in three months) he was pining. Without poems, Mandelstam didn’t feel right sitting — or walking — or living — in this world.” It was poetry that determined his life, not the rigid laws of chronology.

It would in any case be impossible to produce a voyeuristic chronicle of his day-to-day life given the “dispersal” of his biography by the “real forces” of history. Even so, Mandelstam’s creations did not emerge in an empty space, devoid of history. They were neither imaginary nor esoteric, nor were they capricious flights of fancy. The life behind and within the poems is a concrete life in a particular epoch, constantly contemporary. Mandelstam’s poems are closely associated with the events and catastrophes of his life, particularly in the late 1930s. For this reason, and notwithstanding all the criticisms that can justifiably be leveled against biography as such, it is still possible to construct a biographical study of the poet’s work including the statements of witnesses; to depict a life’s work, placing this in the forefront, but also to treat this life as itself a piece of work, in order to peer into the eyes of the “time-beast,” the creature conjured up by Mandelstam in a poem written in October 1922 to encapsulate both his own epoch and other people’s :

My time, my beast, who will be able

To peer into your pupils

And with his own blood glue together

The vertebrae of two centuries

Excerpted from Osip Mandelstam: A Biography by Ralph Dutli (Verso, 2023).

The Climate (CO2) Hoax and the Control Matrix. Mega-banks and Corporations

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‘Utter lawlessness’: Israeli highway closed to Jews for funeral of PA minister who supports terror

The Samaria Regional Council chairman demands to know who gave the order.

By World Israel News Staff

For the first time, an Israeli road is closed to Jews following the sudden death of Palestinian Authority (PA) Prisoners’ Affairs Minister Qadri Abu Bakr, Israel National News reported.

Abu Bakr was killed in a traffic collision in Samaria on Saturday.

Israeli residents of Samaria were reportedly shocked by the decision to close Highway 5 to make way for the procession of the Palestinian minister, who had served 17 years in prison for terrorism.

Highway 5 is one of Israel’s main highways, connecting the Mediterranean coast immediately north of Tel Aviv with the central Sharon plain and eastwards to the city of Ariel  and other Israeli communities in Samaria.

Jewish residents are also concerned about the danger posed by the highway’s closing, noting that the funeral, expected to include thousands of participants, will be held in Area C of Judea and Samaria, near the Israeli communities, Arutz-7 reported.

“This is Oslo on steroids! This is a disgrace and utter lawlessness,” Samaria Regional Council chairman Yossi Dagan declared.

“I demand to know who gave the order, who endangered the safety of the residents on a main road, and who made the decision to harm the sovereignty of the State of Israel in central Samaria,” he said.

“I also don’t understand why someone like Abu Bakr is receiving such treatment. This is a man who was a terrorist who spent 17 years in prison, was exiled to Iraq, was returned in the Oslo Accords, and also in his last position he was the Acting Minister for Terrorist Affairs and Murderers who took care of their salaries and incited terrorism.”

Indeed, in 2020, for example, he posted a statement on social media confirming that the pay-for-slay policy of finanacial reward for terrorism was “non-negotiable.”

The salaries of the prisoners’ families are non-negotiable and the Palestinian leadership’s position is firm and will not change, regardless of the circumstances and pressures,” watchdog group Palestinian Media Watch reported Abu Bakr as saying – after he told the New York Times otherwise.

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“Woke” Capital Won’t Decarbonize the Economy

Despite both right-wing hysterics about “woke capital” and the optimistic claims of Wall Street, ESG has done very little to steer investment in more socially responsible directions. Aggressive state action is needed to rapidly green the economy.

An employee stands next to a solar panel system on the roof of a new climate-neutral DHL delivery base in Hamburg, Germany, June 26, 2023. (Christian Charisius / picture alliance via Getty Images)

The Right, in its increasingly idiosyncratic crusade against “wokeness,” is now claiming that even capitalism has succumbed to the disease. According to Republican lawmakers, Fox News, and self-pronounced experts such as entrepreneur and long-shot Republican presidential candidate Vivek Ramaswamy, the emergence of “ESG funds” (short for environmental, social, and governance) poses the “single greatest threat” to capitalism and democracy. Elon Musk suspects a conspiracy “weaponized by phony social justice warriors” to bring harm and shame upon the impeccable world of free-market practices — and Tesla’s stock-market valuation.

Proponents of the increasingly prominent investment paradigm, on the other hand, claim that the growing popularity of ESG funds facilitates and encourages “socially responsible” investing. These in turn ought to enhance corporate social responsibility and lead the business world onto a more equitable and sustainable path, especially when it comes to the investments in renewable energy essential to mitigating the worst effects of climate change.

The fight over ESG funds is part of the broader battle being waged by the American right against bogeymen like critical race theory. Eager to embrace the latest outrage trend, Republicans and their right-wing allies have launched a full-fledged campaign against ESG investing — and it seems to be working. Last year, eighteen US states proposed or implemented legislation prohibiting the government and its associated financial vehicles from investing in ESG funds. Capital inflows into the sector have declined ever since.

But what does ESG actually do? Does it contain the transformative potential claimed by proponents and critics alike? Is there any truth to the idea that ESG investing will “destroy capitalism” by steering capital into sustainable and “responsible” business practices? According to our recent research, the answer is: not exactly.

Humble Beginnings

ESG constitutes an investment approach, increasingly popular within the financial industry, whereby funds and other investment vehicles incorporate measures of companies’ environmental, social, and governance impact into their investment decisions. The antecedents of ESGs can be traced back to religiously inspired investing practices, like Quaker funds that refrain from investing in gambling or alcohol, or the divestment campaigns organized by the anti-apartheid movement.

Divestment has been widely popular in campaigns for human rights as well as in the antiwar, LGBTQ, and environmental movements. Its effectiveness has been widely debated, both in academia and in social movements. Most empirical research identifies some impact, but no drastic changes, and many on the Left have rejected divestment as a market-based approach to inherently political conflicts.

The contemporary trillion-dollar ESG industry bears little resemblance to these humble, idealistic beginnings, however. Early on, small firms like the London-based Ethical Investment Research and Information Services Ltd. (EIRIS), founded in the 1980s, conducted research for institutional investors keen to shape their investment practices in line with their morals; faith-based institutions and charities were among the principal clients. Research facilitating socially responsible investment began in earnest in the United States in 1988. KLD Research & Analytics was among the so-called first movers in that market, a small agency devoted to its task of pushing the private sector toward sustainability and equity.

Over time, these idealistic, less market-oriented firms were acquired by larger companies, the industry developed, and piece by piece they merged into large ESG fund conglomerates. The earlier, ostensibly ethical values–based approaches for measuring companies’ ESG performance were gradually replaced by financial worth–based assessments — which were much more useful for the financial industry.

Estimates of the ESG industry’s size vary widely, mostly due to a lack of coherent regulation or definition, and the current state of affairs in the sector has been described as the “Wild West.” Despite this confusion, analysts and scholars widely agree that the ESG sector has constantly grown in size and influence since its humble beginnings. This growing importance results from ESG’s steering capacity: every time a new investment practice is established in the financial industry, billions of dollars move according to the new criteria — shifting investments to different companies, changing corporate behavior, and impacting societies more broadly.

The power to define such investment criteria is highly contested. So who actually decides what constitutes an ESG?

The New Distribution of Financial Market Power

The organization of the investment chain has undergone extensive changes in the last decade. For practically as long as financial markets have existed, it was common practice to actively bet on a limited number of companies that fund managers believed would outperform the market.

Since the global financial crisis of 2007–9, however, we have witnessed a massive shift toward what is known as “passive investment.” Passive investment styles do not select particular companies but merely track or replicate indices. These indices are metrics representing particular markets, such as the S&P 500 or the MSCI Emerging Markets Index. The great advantage of passive investing is that it minimizes risks and reduces costs, and asset managers such as BlackRock, State Street, or Vanguard are famous for implementing index-based investment styles at a massive scale and generating huge profits.

While these changes might sound like technical adjustments with little importance, they have triggered a far-reaching shift in the balance of decision-making power within the financial industry. Asset managers’ choice for or against a particular index, as well as the assumptions and evaluations underlying the construction of indices, have much more influence than the assessments of any individual fund manager.

With the growing tide of passive investment, even actively managed funds are moving closer to indices, a phenomenon known as “benchmark hugging,” because their performance is assessed in comparison to indices. Effectively, there are three index providers whose judgements really matter: MSCI, S&P Dow Jones Indices, and FTSE Russell. They are massively influential, as any change in their assessments of which companies or countries constitute a particular index translate directly into changed investment decisions.

The overall pattern of this oligopolistic distribution of power is replicated in the ESG industry. While most of the investments carried out under the banner of ESG are still actively managed, a noteworthy drive toward passive investment is underway. Overall, 88.1 percent of all investors in the ESG sector either use indices as a core part of their strategy or to assess their performance in comparison to them. Of the five hundred largest ESG funds in the world, 28.2 percent passively follow an index. BlackRock alone manages 45.5 percent of these funds — only a handful of other asset managers can claim relevant market shares.

While this market concentration is astounding, it pales in comparison to the market for index provision. This is the part of the market where index providers, such as MSCI, compete for the asset managers’ use of the indices they offer. Here, 93.6 percent of passive assets under management follow ESG indices provided by just five index providers, with MSCI alone. accounting for 67.9 percent. If we want to understand how the ESG market really functions, then, we need to scrutinize the criteria constructed and applied by the index providers, and above all MSCI.

Empty Standards, Empty Promises

MSCI and other index providers essentially define what counts as an ESG fund. But not all of their ESG indices are the same. In our research, we propose a threefold categorization of indices in order to assess their potential impact. We distinguish between what we call “broad ESG,” “light green,” and “dark green” indices.

Crucially, none of these three categories enforce any sort of mechanism for exerting direct influence on corporations’ business practices, like voting behavior at annual meetings or private engagements with management. So ESG funds exclusively rely on their decision-making power over the allocation of capital to shape corporate business practices. The first category of “broad ESG” mimics regular indices and barely excludes extractive industries, fossil fuels, or arms producers. The exclusion mechanisms are not very precise; it very often is the case, for instance, that companies like Total or Lockheed Martin are included in broad ESG funds because they achieve a slightly better ESG rating in comparison to other fossil fuel or arms producers.

Light green indices apply somewhat stricter criteria and quite credibly exclude companies whose practices are deemed unacceptable regarding their environmental or social impact. Only dark green indices actively channel capital toward the transformation of the economy, by applying relatively tough exclusion and decarbonizing criteria and favoring investment into sectors producing the necessary means for an energy transition (such as solar panels).

But of the $189.9 billion guided by passive investment structures in our dataset, merely $9.3 billion follow dark green indices, or about 4.9 percent of assets under management. The bulk of that money, $167.2 billion (88 percent), follows indices that we categorize as broad ESG. So the metrics guiding most global ESG investment differ only very slightly from business-as-usual.

These findings have major political implications. First, the smear campaign launched to cultivate fear regarding the allegedly far-ranging impacts of ESG funds is the product of an ideologically motivated political project. In stark contrast to the strong impact the Right claims ESG funds have on the economy, we do not observe meaningful material effects. Only very minor segments of the private sector substantially differ from regular investment practices.

This lack of deviation from regular market practices shows that we cannot expect the free market to rapidly decarbonize the economy or direct capital into the green transition we so urgently need. While this might be common sense on parts of the Left, high-ranking politicians and renowned economists repeatedly express high expectations regarding the steering capacity of private financial markets. Increased public regulation, such as the Securities and Exchanges Commission’s climate disclosure rules — the final publication of which, however, has been postponed over and over again — could potentially bring some change in this regard. If regulators live up to their stated ambitions, they could enforce strict exclusion criteria and actively steer capital into business sectors producing clean energy. Our research, however, suggests that regulation will most likely follow the script provided by the financial industry and further increase the market power of index providers.

ESG funds are neither particularly “woke” nor a threat to capitalism; we need to think beyond private finance in the fight against climate change. If the private sector is unable or unwilling to enact the kinds of changes to production needed to respond to the climate crisis, then the public sector will have to. As economist Daniela Gabor put it, “Private finance won’t decarbonise our economies — but the ‘big green state’ can”.

The Fight to Save North America’s Temperate Rainforests

An unbroken blanket of coniferous trees occupies the North American coast from California to the Alaskan islands. A wonder of the natural world, these temperate rainforests are essential to the continent’s health — and they must be protected.

Tongass National Forest, Alaska. (Wolfgang Kaehler / LightRocket via Getty Images)

It is still possible to stand in a redwood sorel garden, a garden that carpets a remaining grove of the world’s tallest trees in northern California. The flowers of spring — the trillium and the wild iris — are gone but native rhododendron are in bloom. Alas, there are few such groves remaining; the estimate is now 4 percent and the Save the Redwoods League, long the champion of the old growth, is shifting attention to second growth groves, still awesome though not in quite the same way; a 140-foot tree is not a 350-foot, two-thousand-year-old tree.

This, the remnant of the redwood forest, occupies a ribbon of coastal land, often less than twenty miles in width, that stretches from south of Santa Cruz to the Oregon border. These great conifers have thrived for thousands of years, and they still do, given a chance. They are beneficiaries of long, rainy winters and the summer fog that rolls in from the Pacific Ocean.

The California coast redwoods are unique, but only to a degree. As well as their great height, they cool the ground beneath them, retrieving moisture from the summer fog. Three hundred and fifty feet above, they are host to an unseen habitat where another world flourishes, this one in the canopy, an ecosystem that is home to flying squirrels, salamanders, spotted owls, bats, and the ancient marbled murrelets.

Yet, as extraordinary as the redwoods are, they have more in common with their “neighbors” to the north than one might imagine. The redwood forest is in fact just the anchor of an enormous forest, the temperate rainforest that occupies the North American coast from California to the Alaskan islands, an unbroken blanket of coniferous trees, including the tallest trees on Earth. On their northern reach, the redwoods blend into the Douglas firs of Oregon and Washington, gigantic trees in their own right, which then give way in northern British Columbia and Alaska to red cedar, Sitka spruce, and western hemlock. Taken altogether this is a wonder of the natural world and has been called “our Amazon.” Like lungs, these forests breathe in carbon dioxide and breathe out oxygen.

This coastal temperate rainforest is characterized by its proximity to both ocean and mountains. Abundant rainfall results when the atmospheric flow of moist air off the Pacific collides with the coastal mountain ranges.

It is a rocky, stormy, and wild coast, one that everywhere reveals nature at its most spectacular. There are the redwood groves of Northern California, the raging rivers of Southern Oregon, the Rogue Basin, and the Umpqua forest. There is the mouth of the Columbia River, with its huge waves and foaming breakers, where ocean currents and tides collide with the deadly bars. In Washington State, there are the breathtaking sea stacks of the Olympic National Park, the Hoh River, and Quinault River valleys. Also in the park are towering fir, cedar, and spruce trees draped in ghostly mosses. Then comes an inland sea, the Salish Sea, shared by Washington and British Columbia, where snow-laden mountains — the ten-thousand-foot Mt Baker and the eight-thousand-foot Mt Olympus — shelter idyllic islands whose waters are home to the last of the southern orcas.

In British Columbia, the forests thicken and are often accessible only by sea. The Great Bear Rainforest is one of the largest remaining tracts of unspoiled temperate rainforest left in the world. This forest is home to mountain lions, wolves, moose, mountain sheep and grizzly bears; the Kermode (“spirit”) bear is also found here, a unique subspecies of the black bear in which one in ten cubs displays a recessive white colored coat. In the sea, there are humpback and grey whales, orca, dolphin, seals and sea lions, and in the air, eagles. And salmon, anadromous fish that spend most of their lives at sea but return to the streams of their birth to spawn.

The salmon symbolize the north Pacific Coast, for ten thousand years they sustained not just people but a magical ecological world of plenty for all. They are endangered now, all five species, due to overfishing and rising temperatures, but above all as a result of logging, which has increased erosion, blocked streams, and eliminated shade, raising water temperature.

The jewel in all this forest is the Tongass National Forest in Alaska, 16.8 million acres. This national forest is the largest in the United States and the largest remaining temperate rainforest in the world, nearly five hundred miles long with eleven thousand miles of coastline. It is best known for its glaciers; giant cruise ships bring tourists by the tens of thousands to see these great vanishing monuments, sites surely worth seeing but perhaps best not from these ships.

Our Last Sanctuary

There are many reasons to save the Tongass. The forest cools the earth, deters wildfires, cleanses the water and air, and provides shelter for hundreds of creatures, including scores of threatened species — above all, salmon.

Then there is the sheer size of the Tongass, home to the vast numbers of old-growth trees that remain. The big, old-growth trees are highly effective at trapping climate-warming greenhouse gases from the atmosphere and storing them — the larger the tree, the more sequestered the harmful gases are. The largest trees in the Tongass, cedar and western hemlock, are extremely effective at sequestering carbon dioxide; no single forest in the US can compare.

The process the trees use is simply photosynthesis: the chemical process that occurs in plants when they are exposed to sunlight. In photosynthesis, water and carbon (taken from the atmosphere) combine to form carbohydrates and give off oxygen. The larger the “plant,” the more carbon it takes. So forests like the Tongass are most effective in helping the climate crisis when left standing — but at the moment only nine million acres of the Tongass’s are protected.

The same can be said of all old-growth trees. The old-growth redwood stores more carbon than any other tree, yet when cut down, it loses that capacity. Instead, it releases carbon back into the atmosphere, exacerbating the climate crisis rather than helping it.

Still everywhere these forests are threatened. In the United States, where they are not corporately owned, the US Forest Service is likely to manage them. Yet, even these “publicly” owned forests are not safe. The Forest Service is just as likely to enable the loggers as restrain them; even the national and state parks and reserves of California survive only at the whim of giant bureaucracies — these, in turn, are reflective of which parties are in power.

Professor William Russell, a forest scientist at San Jose State University, reports that “mature second growth redwood stands begin to develop old growth features, but are, unfortunately, under threat of commercial logging on public lands traditionally designated as preserves. Commercial ‘restoration’ logging is currently taking place in National and State Parks.”

It is not just the remnant of redwoods — 4 percent of their former number — that is facing the axe: the coastal lowlands of Oregon and Washington are a checkerboard of ongoing clear-cutting, tree farms on a thirty-year rotation, ruling out meaningful recovery.

In British Columbia and Alaska, there is no place too remote, no terrain too inaccessible for today’s loggers and miners; corporate loggers load raw timber directly onto ships bound for Asia. Mining multinationals thrive in the face of compliant governments. Dun and Bradstreet lists five hundred mining companies with offices in Vancouver; these and others forge ahead, oblivious apparently to a ruined earth they leave behind. So, one finds narrow fiords, deep fingers of water rivaling those of Norway, fouled by the runoff of clear-cutting and metal mining.

The power of these private and public corporations cannot be exaggerated. Here in Mendocino County in Northern California, the Fisher family (owners of Gap Clothing) corporation’s Mendocino Redwood Company alone owns 228,000 acres of redwood timberland — and logs it. The US Forest Service remains committed to a “multipurpose management” mission including logging, mining, and grazing.

According to the marvelous documentary study of the Tongass, Understory (2018), the Forest Service in the United States spends far more on conducting timber sales and building roads than it does on reforestation and conservation. “If the wildest, yet-untouched areas of the Tongass, for example, are opened up to logging, it will likely mean even more federal dollars spent on building roads… by some estimates, road-building in the Tongass costs more than $180,000 per mile” at an even greater cost to our climate.

The odds of saving the old-growth forests remain highly unfavorable, though in the face of climate change this seems incomprehensible. And an array of national and regional environmental organizations has entered the field of “forest defenders.” At the same time there are scores, perhaps more, of ordinary people fighting to save their own patch of this forest — heroic individuals in many ways, working in the trenches of the movements. And, increasingly, there are indigenous peoples, who for so long have had their voices at best muffled, most often belittled, stepping out with alternative views of the natural world and how to live within it.

Who can stand under a giant redwood, amongst the largest organisms ever to exist here on Earth and not be humbled? Ordinary visitors as well as environmentalists have long been staggered by the sheer beauty of the redwood grove, together with the inspiration gained from walking amongst them. We are not alone in seeing this. In our age of COVID, Japanese therapists have recommended shinrin-yoku, or “forest bathing,” pointing to its psychological benefits in the face of the pandemic.

We live today in an age of multiple crises, including one of extinction — what is to become of us? And of our lions and bears and bobcats and deer, of the owls and other birds and of all the creatures that we cannot see, yet that make up this extraordinary ecosystem, if the trees are taken? Surely, habitat restoration is called for, not more destruction, lest this silent slaughter continue.

Right now, the crisis of climate change overwhelms all else as an existential danger, an ever-increasing danger to every aspect of our lives and to the Earth itself. The Amazon, quite rightly, deserves whatever it takes to save it. So does this northern jewel of a forest, “our lungs,” our coastal, temperate rainforest. Our Amazon. It is a fight that matters.

The World’s Largest Job Guarantee Is in Jeopardy

Prime Minister Narendra Modi cannot discontinue India’s popular rural job guarantee, the country’s most significant antipoverty program. He’s taken to underfunding and “appifying” it instead.

A rural village farmer transports the harvest from ripened paddies in the eastern Indian state of Odisha, December 29, 2021. (STR / NurPhoto via Getty Images)

Signed into law in 2005, the Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Act (or NREGA, for short) was no ordinary legislation but a political breakthrough. The act guaranteed one hundred days a year of employment to workers in rural India. According to recent estimates, over 150 million workers are employed through the welfare scheme, making it the largest job guarantee in the world.

Its future, however, has never been more uncertain.

On January 30, the Rural Development Ministry declared that all NREGA wage payments would have be paid through a new digital app, and that this system would become compulsory just two days after the announcement. This meant that workers’ national identity cards would have to be used to both mark attendance and transfer wages. This rollout, plagued by technical issues, was a disaster. And workers have paid the price.

Since January, rural workers have staged protests urging the Indian government to respond to their pleas regarding wages that have gone unpaid for months, the absence of work despite demand, and the contentious “appification” and digitization of the employment process.

India’s Largest Anti-Poverty Program Comes Under Attack

The NREGA program aims to enhance livelihood security in rural areas by providing nearby wage employment to at least one member of every household. Women are guaranteed one-third of the jobs made available under NREGA, and since less than half of Indian women have access to transportation for work, the scheme has been especially significant for them. Women now make up a majority of the NREGA workforce.

NREGA was passed in 2005 under the United Progressive Alliance government of Prime Minister Manmohan Singh and presented as “the largest and most ambitious social security and public works program in the world.” The program’s lofty ambitions, however, have long been hampered by issues of underfunding and mismanagement. These issues have now come to a head under a hostile government, led by Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his Bharatiya Janata Party, that seems to be doing everything in its power to undermine the program.

Its implementation of an app-based attendance system has further complicated an already difficult process for securing jobs under the employment scheme. NREGA workers across India’s largest anti-poverty program have taken up protest against this cynical attempt at digitalization, shrinking budgetary allocations to administer the program, and an overall neglect of the welfare of India’s massive rural population.

Workers Bear the Brunt of a Digital Push

Modi’s administration introduced the National Mobile Monitoring System to record workers’ attendance through a mobile application under a pilot program in 2021. Its use, however, was only made mandatory beginning January this year, though protesters have succeeded in pushing back the full conversion to the new payment system several times, most recently from July 1 to August 31, which was announced this week. Workers decry the digitization of NREGA as a tactic to exclude them under the cover of supposedly bringing transparency and accountability to the benefits program.

The purpose of the application is to log the regular attendance of day laborers working under the job guarantee. Previously, paper rolls were used by supervisors to record attendance. The application, on the other hand, requires workers to upload two time-stamped and geotagged photographs of themselves on site on a given workday.

This isn’t just an imposition of unprecedented surveillance and an attack on rural workers’ dignity. It also presents formidable challenges for them to participate in the program and receive payment for their work at all.

India’s vast digital divide means many workers — especially rural ones — do not have access to smartphones, reliable electricity, or even mobile data networks. A 2022 Oxfam study found that 70 percent of the population had poor or no connectivity to digital services, only 31 percent of Indian women owned phones, and that only 31 percent of rural Indians used the internet.

For Ram Beti, an NREGA worker from India’s most populous state, Uttar Pradesh, the attendance application presents difficulties in navigating an already-complex system. “The app-based attendance system means that sometimes we may be able to get our attendance marked and get paid for our work,” she says. “But sometimes, even after working for twelve days, the attendance is recorded only for five days, given the technical snags and the lack of internet and sometimes even electricity.”

Ashish, an activist with the NREGA Sangharsh Morcha (NSM), a collective of unions, organizations, and individuals demanding public action on NREGA, told Jacobin how the complexity of the digital payments system excludes the very people the jobs guarantee is meant to benefit. “There is no signal in the villages, use of offline mode is difficult, and one has to have a smartphone,” he explained. “If someone else with a phone takes their attendance, they are dependent on that person. They are dependent on someone who is often not a worker himself.”

Experts argue that the newer changes are not oriented toward the benefit of the workers but instead burden them further.

Proving attendance is just the first step; receiving payment for work is another. Economist Jean Drèze argues that the new payment disbursement system is a disaster:

Not only must the worker’s Job Card and bank account be seeded with Aadhaar, the account must also be connected to the National Payments Corporation of India (NPCI) mapper, a process known as “mapping”. If a worker has several bank accounts, as often happens, the ABPS [Aadhaar Payment Bridge System] sends wages to her latest-mapped bank account. If this sounds a little complicated, think of how it sounds to an average NREGA worker.

Welfare’s Death by a Thousand Cuts

Underneath the botched apps and digital attendance systems, the real issue is the slashing of the NREGA’s budgetary allocations and delays in the release of funds, leading to a complete dismantling of welfare-based support for rural workers.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi has long mocked the program, stating, in his first year in office, that all the previous government was “able to deliver for the poor is to dig ditches a few days every month.” Unable to officially discontinue the popular program, however, Modi has instead resorted to defunding it and making it impossible to administer.

Experts in India point out that the program is dying a slow death, with technical issues alienating workers and massive budget cuts hampering the job guarantee’s full implementation. Earlier this year, NSM activists and academics lashed out against the NREGA cuts: “Instead of adequately funding the programme, the Union government has repeatedly resorted to needless technical tinkering.”

The central government has slashed the budget for the scheme by 33 percent, at Rs 60,000 crore (ten thousand rupees) in the current financial year, despite the fact that the revised budget estimate for FY’23 was at Rs 89,400 crore, up from the estimate of Rs 73,000 crore.

To economists like Prabhat Patnaik, the approach of the Modi government points toward a departure from the rights-based approach to welfarism to an outlook focused on something like charity, dependent on the government’s budget whims.

“Reneging on the rights-based approach, the government is creating these arbitrary conditions,” he says. “Modi’s welfarism is actually a withdrawal from the model of welfare that has prevailed in India, as the benefits from the government can now stop at any point. This is fundamentally different from the permanent solutions sought for workers.”

Fighting Back

Shortly after the late January announcement of the digitized system, the volume of NREGA wage payments took a nosedive, declining by more than 50 percent in February. Given the size of NREGA, this amounts to wage theft on an absolutely massive scale — and on the part of the Indian state.

Worker wages amounting to thousands of crores are now pending disbursement across several states, with an especially severe crisis in the state of West Bengal, where workers have been consistently agitating for years to be paid for their labor.

Activists have called the failure to pay and recent program reforms a systematic dismantling of NREGA. A vibrant workers’ movement in defense of NREGA has taken form, even in the face of government repression. NREGA workers had planned to originally stage protests for one hundred days in Delhi, but had to leave the protest site after sixty days following detentions and harassment.

Modi’s policies have been defeated by rural workers before, most memorably his proposed agricultural reforms. Farmworkers’ sustained mass protests, lasting one year and four months, forced Modi to abandon his plans to deregulate the industry. Despite facing brutal repression, with over five hundred fatalities registered during the protest movement, workers won.

“The law guaranteeing work to rural workers took a long battle and is deeply rooted in the history of struggle by unions and workers,” says Meera Sanghamitra of the NSM. “It must be defended.”

France’s Police Unions Are Mobilizing to Defend Their Impunity

The police killing of a 17-year-old in a Paris suburb has sparked a revolt against state violence across France. But powerful police unions have closed ranks behind the killer, in a backlash that shows French cops’ refusal to accept even basic accountability.

French riot police officers stand guard next to a burned-out trash bin during a demonstration against police in Marseille, southern France on July 1, 2023. (Clement Mahoudeau / AFP via Getty Images)

This Tuesday, Nahel, a seventeen-year-old of Franco-Algerian origin, was shot and killed by a police officer during a traffic stop in the Paris suburb of Nanterre. The young man’s death — and footage of the scene that looks to many like an execution — has set off a powder keg nationwide. For the last few days, major urban areas and small regional cities alike have seen a wave of protests, rioting, and looting. Many commentators are comparing the events to the 2005 uprising that followed the death of two men of color as they were chased by police north of Paris. On Thursday, thousands attended a march in Nanterre alongside Nahel’s family and anti–police violence activists. As of Saturday, upward of two thousand people have been arrested, with hundreds of police officers injured in the clashes.

Kicked off by Nahel’s killing, this has morphed into a revolt against policing and its role in the broader exclusion faced by minorities in France. It’s feeding off the accumulated experience of many forms of harassment and daily violence by the police, from cheap verbal abuse (of which just about everyone I spoke to at Thursday’s march seemed to have a story) to the industrialized use of minor-offense fines against working-class communities of color. France’s strict laws regulating statistics make it very difficult to collect concrete information on the effects of racism. But a 2017 report from France’s Rights Defender, a public watchdog, suggests that young men perceived as black or Arab are twenty times more likely to be stopped for an ID check than French people perceived as white.

These are the facts. Yet it’s difficult to get past the impression that France is woefully ill-equipped for confronting the death of a young man like Nahel — or the unavoidably political meaning of the revolt that has resulted from it.

Quick to condemn the actions of the officers caught on videotape in the hope of calming tensions, Emmanuel Macron and his government have just as rapidly acceded to the Right’s calls for swift clampdown. Upward of forty-five thousand police officers were deployed across France on the night of June 30 to July 1, and the interior ministry is starting to deploy forces trained to engage with anti-terrorist interventions. Some of these units have been seen wielding live-action weapons like shotguns.

The government has so far resisted these calls, but Marine Le Pen is calling for a nationwide state of emergency. This would effectively ban protests and gatherings and authorize measures like curfews, stay-at-home orders, and special detentions of individuals. In certain suburbs, curfews have already been put in place, while parts of the transport network in the Paris area have been closed earlier in the evening than usual.

There’s nothing surprising about intolerance for rioting, of course. But what’s revealing is the speed with which a social revolt has been buried beneath the trappings and rhetoric of another right-wing civilizational battle. Macron has spoken of the nefarious effects of violent video games.

There’s also a second force at play: France’s powerful and restless police unions, who have turned this crisis into a test of loyalty for Macron and his government. After footage of Nahel’s killing contradicted initial claims of self-defense by the officer who fired the lethal shot, police unions were up in arms over the critical statements coming from Macron and his ministers.

“Our colleague was strung up to the whipping post in order to buy peace and calm rioters who are attacking the republic,” Davido Reverdy of the National Police Alliance union told Le Monde. He also criticized the fact that the officer was detained, and the announcement by prosecutors that he had been placed under investigation for homicide.

But this dissent radically escalated on June 30. On the eve of the fourth night of action, the National Police Alliance and the National Union of Autonomous Trade Unions (UNSA) released an inflammatory press statement threatening the “wild hordes” and “pests” taking to the streets — and an unconcealed warning to government officials.

“All means need to be deployed to restore the rule of law as quickly as possible,” the two unions declare:

National Police Alliance and UNSA Police assume their responsibilities and want to alert the Government that once this is behind us, we will be mobilized and that without concrete measures of legal protection for the Police Officer, an appropriate penal response, and consequential resources, Police Officers will be the judge of the level of consideration that ought to be given in return.”

Some elements of this are very cryptic — others less so. “Today, the police are engaged in combat because we are at war,” the communiqué concludes. “Tomorrow, we’ll be in resistance and the government needs to be aware of that.”

Are the police unions demanding that the government bury any criminal charges against the officer who shot Nahel? Are they claiming the right to use forms of lethal force beyond the tear gas, rubber bullets, and other forms of officially nonlethal dissuasion usually deployed?

The two organizations have walked back on their claims, suggesting that it has been blown out of proportion, but critics on the Left have read in this bombastic message a shot at the justice system and France’s elected government. But for now, Macron and Interior Minister Gérald Darmanin have sought to downplay it all, dependent as they are on these forces to get through the coming days and weeks. “I’m not here to squabble,” Darmanin said on TF1 in response to a question about the open letter. “These are not my words.”

But these are not the isolated ramblings of a fringe faction within the police ranks. Union elections held in late 2022 had the bloc formed between the National Police Alliance and UNSA Police emerging as leading representatives of a profession that boasts a massive, 90 percent unionization rate.

And neither is it the first example of police restlessness. In May 2021, France’s police unions organized a large rally in front of the National Assembly in Paris, demanding more resources for the police forces and an end to what they deemed the laxity of the justice system. “The police’s problem is with the justice system,” said National Police Alliance secretary Fabien Vanhemelryck before the thousands of officers and supporters at the rally. During the 2022 election season, the unions were behind a push to consecrate a presumption of “legitimate self-defense” for officers who make use of force. When Macron deigned to speak of the problem of racism and violence in French policing in late 2020, they called for a boycott of ID checks and searches.

Part of what’s driving today’s revolt is the outsized role that the police forces have acquired in French life. This addiction took root well before the current presidency, but Macron has come to depend on it more than perhaps any of his predecessors. And the horrifying irony now is that he’s falling back on forces openly calling to warp the separation of powers and act over the heads of elected officials. All in the name of “republican order.”