in 1981 – avoided claiming any such right. The United States implausibly justified its 1962 blockade of Cuba as ‘regional peacekeeping’. Israel justified the strikes that initiated the 1967 Six-Day War as a response to a prior act of aggression. The United States argued that the shooting down of an Iranian airliner in 1988, although mistaken, was in response to an ongoing attack. For the most part, these and other countries chose not to claim or condone a right of pre-emptive self-defence during the Cold War when nuclear missile submarines on hair-trigger alert
Given the significant similarities and differences between the welfare states of Northern Europe and their reactions to the perceived 'refugee crisis' of 2015, the book focuses primarily on the three main cases of Denmark, Sweden and Germany. Placed in a wider Northern European context – and illustrated by those chapters that also discuss refugee experiences in Norway and the UK – the Danish, Swedish and German cases are the largest case studies of this edited volume. Thus, the book contributes to debates on the governance of non-citizens and the meaning of displacement, mobility and seeking asylum by providing interdisciplinary analyses of a largely overlooked region of the world, with two specific aims. First, we scrutinize the construction of the 2015 crisis as a response to the large influx of refugees, paying particular attention to the disciplinary discourses and bureaucratic structures that are associated with it. Second, we investigate refugees’ encounters with these bureaucratic structures and consider how these encounters shape hopes for building a new life after displacement. This allows us to show that the mobility of specific segments of the world’s population continues to be seen as a threat and a risk that has to be governed and controlled. Focusing on the Northern European context, our volume interrogates emerging policies and discourses as well as the lived experiences of bureaucratization from the perspective of individuals who find themselves the very objects of bureaucracies.
This book is about people willing to do the sorts of things that most others couldn't, shouldn't or wouldn't. While there are all sorts of reasons why people consume substances, the author notes that there are those who treat drug-taking like an Olympic sport, exploring their capacity to really push their bodies, and frankly, wanting to be the best at it. Extreme athletes, death-defiers and those who perform incredible stunts of endurance have been celebrated throughout history. The most successful athletes can compartmentalise, storing away worry and pain in a part of their brain so it does not interfere with their performance. The brain releases testosterone, for a boost of strength and confidence. In bondage, discipline, sadism and masochism (BDSM) play, the endogenous opioid system responds to the pain, releasing opioid peptides. It seems some of us are more wired than others to activate those ancient biological systems, be it through being caned in a dungeon during a lunchbreak or climbing a sheer rock wall at the weekend. Back in 1990, sociologist Stephen Lyng coined the term 'edgework', now frequently used in BDSM circles, as 'voluntary pursuit of activities that involve a high potential for death, physical injury, or spiritual harm'.
Deporting Black Britons provides an ethnographic account of deportation from the UK to Jamaica. It traces the painful stories of four men who were deported after receiving criminal convictions in the UK. For each of the men, all of whom had moved to the UK as children, deportation was lived as exile – from parents, partners, children and friends – and the book offers portraits of survival and hardship in both the UK and Jamaica. Based on over four years of research, Deporting Black Britons describes the human consequences of deportation, while situating deportation stories within the broader context of policy, ideology, law and violence. It examines the relationship between racism, criminalisation and immigration control in contemporary Britain, suggesting new ways of thinking about race, borders and citizenship in these anti-immigrant times. Ultimately, the book argues that these stories of exile and banishment should orient us in the struggle against violent immigration controls, in the UK and elsewhere.
understanding a social phenomenon that is presumed to pre-exist its definition, but rather it is a deconstructive approach claiming that the way we conceive of, represent and narrate a
problem is what makes the ‘truth’ of this problem (Pfohl, 1985: 230). In the
case of LGBT asylum, there are many countries of origin for which the information available in the UK is fragmentary at best; even for countries ‘famous’
for their homophobia, like Iran, there is much uncertainty about what exactly
happens there, and how.1 In this context the ‘real facts’ of homophobia in
Iran and the
simultaneously there was a remarkable spread of the industry globally.
Oil production began in Baku, Russia in 1873 and in 1901 the first Middle Eastern
concession for hydrocarbon exploitation was granted to William Knox D’Arcy for
Persia (Iran) (Yergin, 2003, p. 789). Although its production was dominated by
US companies, by 1928 Venezuela had become the world’s leading oil exporter
(Chomsky, 2003, p. 24). Between 1945 and 1969, the Gulf States, Iran and Iraq
Ireland in a global context
revealed extraordinary amounts of oil (Odell, 2000, p. 1). While a full estimation
(4) of the Charter proscribes the threat as well as the use of force. They are not therefore limited to actual applications or instances of force – at least not in theory – and it is important that we recognize the actual or potential relevance of these rules well before the ‘launch’ of any ‘air strikes’ (considered by Byers in respect of the United States and Iran). So the Security Council seemed to say in Resolution 487 (1981) when it advised Israel against making any ‘threats’ of force. Yet such threats have become a recurring theme in international politics since
is central. In fact, the Kurdish diaspora provides a good illustration
of how a strong desire to translate ethno-political identity in diaspora
maps onto indigeneity and decoloniality.
Many of the works on the Kurdish diaspora have carefully
examined Kurds’ antagonistic relationship with their countries of
origin, be it Iran, Iraq, Syria or Turkey, or their political activities
in diaspora in this
For my interlocutors in that small language school in the North West of England, the story is significantly different. These multilingual Anglophones from Pakistan, Iran or Iraq, came to Britain bearing the aural/oral traces of linguistic imperialism, which seems to force a kind of self-estrangement, where English appears not some much as an ‘inner thing’ that is deeply embodied, but more like ‘an artefact – a type of sound effect’ (Chow 2014 : 13). As I think back at how my interlocutors adapted their bodies to speak in English with me – contorting their lips and
Qur’an and in theological beliefs. Of particular interest to me is the unifying impact of Islamic law on Muslim cultures and particularly on the possibility of Islamic human rights commitments. For most Muslims, Islamic law is the normative system to which they willingly defer. There are also countries like Saudi Arabia or Iran, where a particular interpretation of Islamic law enjoys mandatory authority. In these states, governments perform a considerable amount of socio-cultural engineering under the pretence of applying God’s law.
What is the