Bordering intimacy is a study of how borders and dominant forms of intimacy, such as family, are central to the governance of postcolonial states such as Britain. The book explores the connected history between contemporary border regimes and the policing of family with the role of borders under European and British empires. Building upon postcolonial, decolonial and black feminist theory, the investigation centres on how colonial bordering is remade in contemporary Britain through appeals to protect, sustain and make family life. Not only was family central to the making of colonial racism but claims to family continue to remake, shore up but also hide the organisation of racialised violence in liberal states. Drawing on historical investigations, the book investigates the continuity of colonial rule in numerous areas of contemporary government – family visa regimes, the policing of sham marriages, counterterror strategies, deprivation of citizenship, policing tactics, integration policy. In doing this, the book re-theorises how we think of the connection between liberal government, race, family, borders and empire. In using Britain as a case, this opens up further insights into the international/global circulations of liberal empire and its relationship to violence.
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.
Anthropology after Gluckman places the intimate circle around Max Gluckman, his Manchester School, in the vanguard of modern social anthropology. The book discloses the School’s intense, argument-rich collaborations, developing beyond an original focus in south and central Africa. Where outsiders have seen dominating leadership by Gluckman, a common stock of problems, and much about conflict, Richard Werbner highlights how insiders were drawn to explore many new frontiers in fieldwork and in-depth, reflexive ethnography, because they themselves, in class and gender, ethnicity and national origins, were remarkably inclusive. Characteristically different anthropologists, their careers met the challenges of being a public intellectual, an international celebrity, an institutional good citizen, a social and political activist, an advocate of legal justice. Their living legacies are shown, for the first time, through interlinked social biography and intellectual history to reach broadly across politics, law, ritual, semiotics, development studies, comparative urbanism, social network analysis and mathematical sociology. Innovation – in research methods and techniques, in documenting people’s changing praxis and social relations, in comparative analysis and a destabilizing strategy of re-analysis within ethnography – became the School’s hallmark. Much of this exploration confronted troubling times in Africa, colonial and postcolonial, which put the anthropologists and their anthropological knowledge at risk. The resurgence of debate about decolonization makes the accounts of fierce, End of Empire argument and recent postcolonial anthropology all the more topical. The lessons, even in activism, for social scientists, teachers as well as graduate and undergraduate students are compelling for our own troubled times.
writes ( 2004 : 17). When trying to grasp the rhythm of the street, he recommended the ‘marvellous invention’ of a balcony, and failing that a window, from where the flow of sounds and movements can be disentangled. At Billingsgate, I repeatedly found myself climbing the stairs and looking down on the market hall from the first-floor gallery in an effort to contain and clarify the sensory overload of being there. And here, the possibility of making a film based on time-lapse photography to ‘capture’ the rhythm of the market began to take shape.
A visual analysis of four frames of representation of ‘refugeeness’ in Swedish newspapers
are manifestations of power structures:
the gaze of the photographer/film-maker directed at their subject, the
counter gaze of the subject towards the photographer and the spectator of
the image. There are also the gaze of the editors in charge of selecting the
right image for publishing and, importantly, the gaze of the researcher while
collecting and analysing these very images. Therefore, naming an event a
refugee crisis is not only a matter of language, but also that of knowledge
production and construction of specific realities. In relation to that, Rose
Photini Vrikki, Sarita Malik, and Aditi Jaganathan
They made a film called Being Black , a little film, a little short film with me – just me. They came to talk to me about what it was like to be black in Britain at that point. I was a sociologist, so they asked me about all kinds of stuff, and they finished up making a film that was not about all these things. Actually, what they put out extraordinarily, was about film aesthetics and so on. It was essentially a headshot of Colin Prescod, me (locks man at that point). Just the picture, for like
noted in the introduction that much of the work on cultural and creative industries, and their associated occupations, has been shaped by policy definitions. As with the other parts of our analysis in this book, we are using the Department for Culture, Media and Sport’s (DCMS) influential definition. DCMS’s well-known formation of creative industries covers nine occupational clusters: advertising and marketing; architecture; crafts; design (product, graphic, and fashion design); film, TV, radio, andphotography; IT, software, and computer services; publishing; museums
bags were made using printing techniques
inspired by Cage, and a ‘John Cage Video Booth’ was set up to make a collaboratively constructed piece of video poetry from randomly selected words. Simple
concertina journals with lino-printed covers were made together with handcrafted
bookmarks to capture responses to the music and art on display. One activity also
asked participants to respond in the form of a haiku (a three-line Japanese poem)
and this became a film installation when the poem was typed using a vintage
typewriter, filmedand projected.
Over two hundred
project by myself and writer/photographer Yusuf Agherdien called Double Vision that used photographyand oral history to negotiate the erasures and persistence of these spatialised memories of loss. The various strategies adopted in these multiple formal, informal, officially recognised and marginal spaces to remember this and other neighbourhoods reflect the multiplicity of memories and narratives of the neighbourhood, and the extent to which these are intricately interwoven with the physical spaces of the city. In many senses this is heritage which resists
societies much less to some sort of imagined archaic phase of human
existence. Elsewhere I offer extensive critiques of ‘scientific fire myths’
that occur in two recent books that lie on the serious end of popular
science writing.2 Here3 I will round out the modern status of the fire
myth by calling attention to, and offering some preliminary comments
on, another, quite different venue in which something like the traditional fire myth appears – specifically, popular cinema.
My focus will be a film that directly deals with gaining control of fire