Saturday, January 15, 2022

'I am a Scientific Grower': 

We speak with Ignacio Peralta, the First Postdoc in Cannabis Cultivation in Argentina

ElPlanteo.com spoke with young Ignacio "Nako" Peralta, 
Argentina's first cannabis post-doctorate.
 "As a kid, I didn't know any plants"...

Note by Hernán Panessi originally published in El Planteo. More articles by El Planteo in High Times en Español.

Follow us on Instagram(@El.Planteo)and Twitter(@ElPlanteo).

One thing led to another and that to another. On that balcony in the neighborhood of Caballito, in capital Federal, there was nothing but bricks, concrete and a view towards another line of balconies. However, despite growing up in the heart of the city, the horizon of the young Ignacio "Nako" Peralta was, inevitably, dyed green. "As a kid, I didn't know any plants," says Peralta, the first postdoc in cannabis cultivation in Argentina.

Related content: 'Let's Put an Indoor inside the Faculty': UNICEN Will Have Its Own Experimental Cannabis Cultivation

As a teenager, while avoiding tranzas, Ignacio came into contact with the plant and went from one decade to the next, from pressed smoking to producing exportable flowers deserving of international awards and accolades.

Knowing the reverses of the fables linked to cannabis, Peralta considers that part of his history as an added value: "I am not just a scientist, I am a scientific grower or a growing scientist",he widens.

The Spiritual Call

Her life changed in 2016 when, averaging her doctorate in medicinal plants, she heard the call of Valeria Salech and her colleagues from Mamá Cultiva. "They were advocating for the law and asking for professionals committed to the cause," he recalls.

Something happened to him, something vibrated inside him, something succumbed inside his chest. "It was quite natural to combine my practical experience as a cultivator with the scientific method in pursuit of the social cause to improve the quality of life of the people,"he acknowledges.

ignacio peralta conicet argentine postdoc

Meanwhile, in those first meetings and talks with the Mama Cultiva, Peralta warned that there was something else there, that he had to participate yes or yes. "I want everyone who needs cannabis to be able to count on quality treatments like the one I had when I was a kid."

"When we were still working on the Law, there was already talk of epilepsy treatments. I'm epileptic, so I felt empathy for those mothers. And being epileptic I know the benefits of pharmacology when it comes to providing quality treatments," he says.

Related content: Laboratories Nucleated by CONICET will test Cannabis Derivative Products: the Patagonian Case

With the confirmation of Law 27,350, which enabled medical and scientific research for the medicinal use of the cannabis plant, Dr. Peralta also reaffirmed his mission: he wanted to formalize cannabis within the University of Buenos Aires and CONICET,its training institutions.

A bigger industry

His experience as a biochemist and doctor in Biochemical Sciences specialized in Phytomedicine placed him in a strategic place. Then, as a doctoral fellow, he joined forces and began to carry out the first cannabis project funded by CONICET in which he investigated cannabis sativa and its potential as a medicine.

"I took the post of teaching and disseminating what until that moment was known," says Dr. Peralta.

So, during 2018, you traveled to California to finish your doctorate. The jarilla,a branchy shrub found in the mountainous areas of western Argentina. And he did it through a scholarship he obtained from the Argentine Ministry of Education and the Fulbright Commission, of the United States.

"In California I realized that there was another industry that exceeded the medicinal,"he reveals. In this way, the explosion of the recreational industry also caught his attention.

Chart a path

Peralta quickly returned to Buenos Aires with the firm conviction of applying for a postdoctoral fellowship. I wanted to formally study the cultivation and extraction of cannabis.

Related Content: From Pressed Smoking to Major League Research: Meet Matías Litvak, the Argentine Grower Who 'Comes from the Future'

How was the process to apply for the scholarship to do a postdoc in cannabis?

"The scientific foundation was. My background, too. At that point there was no scientific discussion: the facts are the facts. I received very good accompaniment from high school. They awarded me the scholarship, they funded a big project. It complicated the bureaucratic part, the permits to work with cannabis. The first six months of my postdoctoral fellowship were to do paperwork. I was leaving institutionalized that there were lines of cannabis research in the faculty.

Being the first to go through this bureaucratic process, did it make it easier for there to be more doctoral fellows in cannabis today?

—Yes, the project we got made that today there are more doctoral fellows in cannabis. IQUIMEFA (Institute of Chemistry and Drug Metabolism) is positioning itself, it is obtaining permits to obtain raw materials, importing inputs and, with it, we obtained the authorization for the first university crop. It could not be carried out because of the pandemic, but it had to be done. Played.

And professionally, what did it mean to be the country's first cannabis postdoc?

—It meant a huge opportunity to bring together the 15 years of cultivation, with 15 years of scientific career and the enormous possibility of working directly with the plant that I want and that I am passionate about. It was doing basic science applied to production. In addition, it gave me the opportunity to travel to countries where cannabis is more developed. And it was a finishing touch to my career as an intern.

Peralta for export

For example, his experience at CONICET was highly valued internationally and ended up opening the doors of the industry. "I have been well received," he confesses, "because the industry needs research and development since, thanks to applied science, Argentina has an opportunity to stand out in this global industry."

Related content: Challenges and Opportunities of the Cannabis Economy Coming up in Argentina

Meanwhile, seeking to gain experience in large-scale crops, for the year 2019, Dr. Peralta traveled to Santa Marta, Colombia, to study the cultivation of the company Avicanna. "Experimental laboratory culture is not the same as where the raw material is going to come from."

And he continues: "In Colombia I lived a continuous learning. The company made their cultures and their laboratory available to me. I was able to learn a lot from professional growers and we exchanged a lot of knowledge. It was an introduction to large-scale production and field research."

There he spent six months, writing field trials in a large-scale pharmaceutical and organic grade production. "I wanted to understand how environmental and agronomic management variables affect the production of active ingredients."

What are the trials about? From their learnings: not always greater investment results in greater productivity; tutoring, in addition to preventing loss and damage to plants, modulates the production of cannabinoids; not always a greater amount of nutrients generates a greater amount of cannabinoids; and also developed a method to determine the right time of harvest using chromatographs to study the biosynthesis of cannabinoids.

At the time, the publication of these essays is imminently.

Better cannabis

Later, in 2021, already with that new experience on his back, Nako traveled to Uruguay to work as a master grower. "I had to set up from scratch a production of SMOKable CBD flower. There I was able to validate many of my ideas in a large-scale commercial crop."

After a semester in Charrúa lands, Peralta returned to the country to form a technical-scientific consultancy with three colleagues.

Related content: Manuel Belgrano and the National Porro

"My colleagues, in addition to being teachers and researchers with a long career, have international experience in the industry. We intend to accompany the industry through our knowledge and expertise in all research, production and development processes," he says. The project, called NPR (Natural Products Research), has a tentative launch for the month of April 2022.

What are your challenges going forward?

"I would like to continue learning and contributing what I know. Also, I would like to see higher quality cannabis produced every time, a better joint for everyone and, consequently, better medicine. I want to stay connected to the plant, to continue learning from it. And that we can do it in a legal context of growth and fair for all. There are still people suffering from it and we are living from this.

Could cannabis prevent COVID? 
To the authors of a new study, it sure looks like it

But put away the pipe — it appears the compounds that may be most helpful in preventing COVID degrade at high temps

By BRETT BACHMAN
PUBLISHED JANUARY 12, 2022 

A groundbreaking new study published this week identified what could be an unexpected tool in the world's fight against COVID-19: cannabis.

Yes, you read that right.

According to a peer-reviewed paper published this week in the Journal of Natural Products, titled "Cannabinoids Block Cellular Entry of SARS-CoV-2 and the Emerging Variants," at least three compounds naturally occurring in the cannabis plant were shown in lab tests to be effective at stopping coronavirus molecules from entering human cells. The mechanism effectively mimics the activity of antibodies, with the cannabis compounds attaching themselves to the virus' spike protein, one of the authors told Salon. The study concludes:

With widespread use of cannabinoids, resistant variants could still arise, but the combination of vaccination and CBDA/CBGA treatment should create a more challenging environment with which SARS-CoV-2 must contend, reducing the likelihood of escape.
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In case any of that is confusing, the authors also included in the paper a handy illustration of the phenomenon:

An illustration showing how cannabinoids can block the entry of SARS-CoV-2 from human cells. (Courtesy the Journal of Natural Products)

The findings have gone viral, so to speak, trending on Twitter and inspiring much speculation online under the hashtag "#WeedPreventsCOVID." But don't reach for that joint just yet — the compounds, CBD-A, CBG-A, and THC-A, are non-psychoactive and degrade at high temperatures, which makes smoking or baking less-than-ideal ways to consume them. Pills or gummies are better, not to mention concentrates that have been designed to maximize the content of these specific substances.

Beyond that, the entire premise must undergo a series of clinical trials before researchers will say for sure whether it works in real life the way it does in the controlled conditions of a lab. Still, Dr. Richard van Breemen, one of the study's authors and a professor of medicinal chemistry at Oregon State University, says the results are "incredibly promising."

"This is by far the biggest response to a study that I've encountered in my career," Dr. Van Breemen told Salon.

"A number of hemp dietary supplements containing these compounds are available over-the-counter all over the country," he added, meaning if the findings were carried over into successful clinical trials, the preventative treatment would immediately be accessible by millions of Americans.

The entire project was a collaboration between the Linus Pauling Institute and the Global Hemp Innovation Center, both headquartered at Oregon State University, which picked up research into the commercial and pharmaceutical applications of hemp several years ago after the USDA gave academic institutions the greenlight to resume research into hemp following a decades-long moratorium. The paper's seven authors are all faculty members at either OSU or Oregon Health & Science University.

Researchers set out with the intention of testing a number of botanical extracts that they thought might bind with the spike protein of the SARS-COV-2 virus, which causes COVID-19. Dr. Van Breemen said they went through "dozens" of substances before discovering cannabis worked.

Another compound, this one found in licorice, was also found to reliably bind to the SARS-COV-2 virus — but more research is needed to determine if it will produce the same antiviral activity as the compounds found in cannabis.

So what does all of this mean for the average person?

Simply put — it's still too early to tell. But people are unlikely to experience any of the viral protection benefits from ingesting cannabis in a way that will also get them high. Because of the current research restrictions on THC-A (and its connection to the psychoactive compound THC), it will be effectively impossible to continue research into proper application methods for that compound.

Meanwhile, CBD-A and CBG-A are both acids that break down into CBD through the application of heat — a process called "decarboxylation." That same heating process is responsible for the psychoactive qualities found in marijuana.

While it's still entirely unclear what dosage level may prove clinically viable, most all over-the-counter hemp supplements have to list their CBD-A and CBG-A content, which will at least make information about a given product's efficacy easy to determine.

The other good news? It appears that testing suggests the cannabis compounds are effective against all known variants of COVID-19.

"Our data show minimal impact of the variant lineages on the effectiveness of CBDA and CBGA, a trend that will hopefully extends to other existing and future variants," the authors write in the study.


Brett Bachman is the Nights/Weekend Editor at Salon.

 The Kinsey African American Art and History Collection Premieres First Local Showing since 2007

By Betti Halsell, Staff Writer
Published January 13, 2022

Samuel Dunson depicts three African Americans harvesting books from the soil of the earth. A woman wipes the dirt off a volume while a young man behind her holds a copy of “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran. While the male has cultivated a bag full of books, his dress suggests that this work is not menial labor. These individuals are cultivating knowledge. Bernard, Shirley and their son Khalil are the subjects in Samuel Dunson’s portrait. (thekinseycollection.com)


Awareness of cultural history molds the future success of the collective community. On January 15, The Kinsey African American Art and History Collection will present historical moments pointing towards the advancement of the Black community.

Pepperdine University’s Frederick R. Weisman Museum of Art has partnered with the owners and curators of The Kinsey African American Art and History Collection, to showcase rare photographs, books, letters, and manuscripts in the upcoming exhibition, “The Cultivators: Highlights from The Kinsey African American Art and History Collection.”  The premiere viewing is on January 15, 2022.

The Los Angeles Sentinel had an exclusive interview with one of the pioneers responsible for The Kinsey African American Art and History Collection. Bernard Kinsey spoke about his experience in building this legacy with his wife, Shirley Kinsey, and the significance in sharing these works with the future generation.

The mission behind this installment is to display tools forged in antiquity to motivate people of color towards future prosperity. The press release detailing the event stated, “The Bernard and Shirley Kinsey Foundation for Art and Education assists educational/cultural institutions with educating underserved youth and increasing public awareness about African American history and ancestry by exposing and bridging cultural and societal gaps while addressing stereotypes and social ills.”

The collection holds contributions from African Americans dating back five centuries. Khalil Kinsey and Larry Earl curated the gallery. These pieces have inspired people across the world, traveling internationally in over 30 venues. However, the latest showing on January 15 will debut exclusive installations and will host an opening celebration.

Kinsey shared the prosperity of the collection by stating, “The Kinsey collection has been traveling for the past 15 years. It’s been to 35 cities and been seen by over 15 million people. It has been translated into Spanish and into Chinese and we have two books out, one in its fifth edition.”

This showcase is reuniting The Kinsey African American Art and History Collection with its roots, making its first local showing since 2007. Attendees  can enjoy the rarity found in this collection until March 27, 2022. The viewing of art, photographs, rare books, letters, and manuscripts work as a bridge between innovation and history that developed in the Black community.

One of the pieces that changed Kinsey’s life was a bill of sale from 1832 of an 18-year-old African American man in Alabama who was sold for $500. Kinsey stated, “I couldn’t believe — one, that people owned other people. Secondly, I couldn’t believe that I was holding this young brother in my hand.” He continued, “It fundamentally changed me …”

Kinsey shared at that moment he told his wife of his quest to find out how did America survive off of the imbalanced energy capsulated in racism. He described their adventures in seeking a truth as a “love affair” that he shares with his wife.

The production hosted at the Frederick R. Weisman Museum of Art will emphasize the lives, challenges, and successes of African Americans, dating from the 16th century. The images, documents, and original pieces carry the narrative of the slave trade, the Civil War, the Harlem Renaissance, and many more benchmarks in American history, highlighted by the Black experience.

One of the key pieces mentioned in the official press release are elements that are linked to the 1963 student protests at Florida A&M University. This is significant to the founders of the collection – Bernard and Shirley Kinsey began their journey together at Florida A&M before moving to California to continue their education at Pepperdine University.


The Kinsey Family, from left, Bernard Kinsey, Shirley Kinsey and Khalil Kinsey

 (Courtesy of Bernard Kinsey)

Out of their union, their son, Khalil, was born. He developed into the chief operating officer and chief curator of The Kinsey African American Art and History Collection and Foundation.

The press released captured a statement from Pepperdine University president Jim Gash: “We are proud to be hosting the Kinsey Collection here at Pepperdine.”  He continued, “Bernard and Shirley Kinsey rank among our most prestigious alumni and are venerated for their leadership in both business and education.

“We look forward to how this exhibition will facilitate greater understanding and appreciation for African American contributions and achievements to our nation’s history, as well as foster increased community between Pepperdine and the city of L.A.”

The gallery features art by “celebrated figures,” including Ernie Barnes, John Biggers, Bisa Butler, Elizabeth Catlett, Robert S. Duncanson, Sam Gilliam, Jacob Lawrence, Norman Lewis, Augusta Savage, Henry Ossawa Tanner, Alma Thomas and Charles White.

In closing, Kinsey stated that the collection is looking to inspire everyone from all walks of life.  He stated, “As much as we have racism here in Los Angeles, we have nothing like what people had in the 18th and 19th century – in terms of Jim Crow, slavery, and things like that.”

Kinsey continued, “So, what we’re trying to do is to make this motivational … for our young people fourth grade up, which is what we primarily focus on. What we want them to understand is that they’re limit is the sky, not a two-story building.

“If we don’t push our young people and our not-so-young to think bigger about their lives, they are not going to be able to compete in this very competitive world called the United States.”

Book your visit and access information about Weisman Museum health and safety protocols at arts.pepperdine.edu/visit.

When Bernard and Shirley Kinsey were married in 1967, the couple set a goal of visiting 100 different countries during their life together. While traveling and exploring other countries and cultures, Bernard and Shirley began collecting art and artifacts as treasured memories of their travel experiences. (thekinseycollection.com)

 

Review – Imagining Afghanistan: The History and Politics of Imperial Knowledge

Imagining Afghanistan: The History and Politics of Imperial Knowledge
By Nivi Manchanda
Cambridge University Press, 2020

History and the prison-break

In the introduction to After Colonialism, Gyan Prakash was explicit about the need to “pry open the reading of colonialism from th[e] prison-house of historicism”: “For at stake is not simply the issue as to whether or not former colonies have become free from domination, but also the question as to how the history of colonialism and colonialism’s disciplining of history can be shaken loose from the domination of categories and ideas it produced – colonizer and colonized; white, black, and brown; civilized and uncivilized; modern and archaic; cultural identity; tribe and nation” (Prakash 1995, 5). This particular expression of the need to recognise the coloniality of history was articulated in the mid-1990s, a time of a heightened-yet-tense sense of Western supremacy. Not long after, in October 2001, Afghanistan was occupied by a wide international military alliance by the name of “Enduring Freedom”. The ‘operation’ has morphed into an enduring occupation of, and with, Afghanistan. It made the critical re-evaluation of historical knowledge only more urgent than it had already been.

Imprisoned by the fascist regime of Benito Mussolini, Antonio Gramsci made the compilation of an ‘inventory’ the first step for a critical confrontation of historical processes and their traces in ourselves (Said 2003, 25). Imagining Afghanistan is more than an inventory described in Gramsci’s Prison Notebooks. Since 2001 especially, Afghanistan has been turned into a laboratory for twenty-first century intervention and its application of power. The study of Afghanistan, too, has vastly expanded. Afghanistan has been the subject of policy articulation, and it has populated publishers’ catalogues and university curricula, even colouring books for children. Afghanistan exists in public debate, in the entertainment industry and museums. Afghanistan has been thought about a lot, and an ‘idea’ of Afghanistan has taken shape in the Western mind. Imagining Afghanistan engages with this idea through a rich assembly of materials relating to the work of past and present knowledge practitioners, including academics, political analysts and policy-makers – “the scientist, the scholar, the missionary, the trader, or the soldier [who] was in, or thought about, the Orient because he could be there, or could think about it, with very little resistance on the Orient’s part,” in Edward Said’s (2003, 7) terms. The book spans the history of modern Afghanistan from the early nineteenth century, when the country was emerging into the consciousness of British empire builders, to the present. It is a prison-break (in Prakash’s sense) that releases colonialism’s categories and ideas from their (wrongful) captivity in history in order for them to find their intimate place in the community of Western knowledge on Afghanistan.

The imperialism of colonial knowledge cultivation

At its core, Imagining Afghanistan engages with “the hegemonic discourse and its totalising ambitions” about histories of the Afghan state and its peoples (p.5). Woven into the book’s argument are three intersecting threads. To begin with, Afghanistan represents “an intrinsically violent place” in the imagination of the transatlantic Anglosphere (p.3). But, ‘our’ “politics of disavowal” maintain that ‘we’ have nothing to do with it (p.3). A rich “grammar of difference” segregates ‘us’ and the ‘West’ from ‘them’ and ‘Afghanistan’ (p.3). Lastly, this discourse is marked by a “superficial” engagement with Afghanistan’s history and politics, particularly so in times of conflict (p.4). This, to bring the argument full circle, reaffirms Afghanistan’s place in a geopolitical hierarchy whose structure enables and sanctions intervention.

Given the violence inherent in Western knowledge and the widespread, often common-sensical, rationalisation in its application on Afghan bodies, the importance of this critique cannot be underestimated (Savic 2020). The book is an example of “insurgent scholarship”, and an illustration of the need for the continuing decolonisation of imperial/colonial knowledge as a continuous act of resistance in our very own age of imperialism (p.10). Imagining Afghanistan shows the pathways in which the idea and “story” of Afghanistan have come about and taken root. The analysis unsettles with a clear purpose: “‘how is Afghanistan thought about in a way such that it is possible to invade and bomb it?’ and ‘what are the sources of authority that sanction the discourses that make that act of invasion permissible and possible in the first place?’” (p.5).

The book stands on the shoulders of studies that have crossed (and continue to eradicate) the (artificial) disciplinary boundaries between history and international relations in an attempt to make visible the colonial legacies in their combined knowledge systems (e.g. Bayly 2016; Hopkins 2008). Imagining Afghanistan focuses on the intellectual cornerstones of historical knowledge production, and how these were, and continue to be, recycled and cultivated for application in instances of imperialism, racism and war in the present. The analysis draws out the (at best) “lazy” and (at worst) “mercenary” scholarship that has contributed to the reification of Afghanistan as a violent place and failed state allegedly riddled with tribal customs – in short, the scholarship that assists in turning ‘inferior’ Afghanistan into a legitimate object of ‘superior’ Western intervention (p.25). As such, Imagining Afghanistan is a “decolonising intervention” as well as an exercise in auto-decolonisation prompting knowledge practitioners in the humanities and social sciences to “unlearn the colonising impulses of knowledge production in the Western academy” (p.7).

Chapter 1 lays the foundations for the discussion, unearthing and analysing the key constituents of how Afghanistan has been ‘understood’ and ‘made legible’ in a geopolitical sense. Chapter 2 charts the history of ‘Afghanistan’ as a “spatial formation”, exploring also its multiple configurations as a ‘frontier’, ‘buffer’, ‘failed’ and even ‘non-state’ or ‘AfPak’ (p.66). Over time, the palimpsestic space of Afghanistan was reinscribed with arbitrary notions of marginality in the age of colonialism. These Eurocentric lenses of geopolitical organisation make Afghanistan appear ‘different’ and continue to exert their power on ‘our’ imagination, in which Afghanistan features as “an arbitrary blip on the world map, its re-inscription as a space of exception on the fringes of humanity that demands ‘special treatment’” (p.102). Chapter 3 forefronts the ‘tribalisation’ of Afghanistan. It weaves its way from Mountstuart Elphinstone’s inspiration by Scottish clans through increasingly racialised registers to Olaf Caroe’s The Pathans. Whilst the Soviet intervention in the 1980s created independence-loving freedom fighters, Afghanistan has more recently been reduced to tribal assemblages of chauvinistic men with penchants for terrorism and the subjection of women. According to many Western readings, Afghanistan’s tribes have always been ‘inward-looking’ producers of warriors, patriots or terrorists. Chapter 4 is a nuanced critique of Western feminist writing, which has contributed to a reduction of ‘Muslim culture’ by “superimpos[ing] the neat image of a medieval land of barbaric men and tyrannised women over the messy history of the region” (p.175). The urge to ‘save’ Afghan women is closely linked to the same global structures that legitimise patriarchy at the local level. Chapter 5 complements this discussion with a representational survey of Afghan masculinities, singling out representations of Hamid Karzai and the Taliban. The need to classify, label, categorise and, ultimately, deal with Afghan men is a historical trace deeply rooted in colonial enterprise and has “remained true to the wider Orientalist discourse” (p.218).

Imagining Afghanistan is a conceptually brilliant, deeply researched, richly annotated, finely articulated and thought-provoking ‘inventory’: it is decolonisation-as-critique. In its challenge to the cultivation of colonial knowledge as a supporting function to imperialism the book has scholarly as well as political relevance. Its insurgent path is plotted toward a re-imagination of ‘Afghanistan’. But there is work to be done, and Nivi Manchanda reminds us of the necessity to rethink ‘liminal’ or ‘frontier’ spaces as well as their constructions as imperial ‘peripheries’ (p.103; see e.g. Hopkins 2020). This process of re-centring requires the production of fitting intellectual tools that are not rooted in colonialism’s own centres, such as India. There is also the need to bring the Anglospheric Afghanistan of this book into a comparative framework with other imperial imaginaries, such as Russia’s.

Auto-decolonisation / decolonising ourselves

In addition, the book has an important message to all knowledge-practitioners: we cannot escape the past, but we are obliged to change the way we think about its knowledge systems. True to its thought framework, Imagining Afghanistan is explicit about its engagement with ‘story-telling’ and ‘sense-making’. It firmly incorporates the dialogic making of modern empire and ‘frontiers’, centre and ‘periphery’ into its larger make-up (p.10). At a critical historical moment, Imagining Afghanistan is also about the stories ‘we’ tell about ourselves and about academia’s role in an age of heightened ‘culture wars’ and ‘post-truth’. In this sense, the book is as much about what makes war, ‘(un)lawful killing’ and murder in ‘our’ name possible on a global scale as it is part of a discussion on racism closer to home. However strong the desire to incarcerate history – or the urge to throw away the keys – may be in the present, we need to engage more with colonial history. Orientalism signifies the power of the self to create constitutive knowledge of the other. What is too often and conveniently forgotten is that power begets responsibility and accountability. This book makes for essential reading for every knowledge-practitioner, and particularly those studying or ‘working on’ Afghanistan. Because we have the power to construct ideas and narrate stories that are acted upon, we also have a responsibility to recognise the coloniality of our knowledge as the basis for its sustained deconstruction in the first place. We can level the power of imperial knowledge by critiquing one colonially woven idea at a time. That process demands acts of auto-decolonisation from all of us if we want to avoid forms of complicity, conscious or otherwise, in physical or epistemological acts of imperial violence.

References

Bayly, Martin J. 2016. Taming the Imperial Imagination: Colonial Knowledge, International Relations, and the Anglo-Afghan Encounter, 1808-1878. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hopkins, Benjamin D. 2020. Ruling the Savage Periphery: Frontier Governance and the Making of the Modern World. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press.

Hopkins, Benjamin D. 2008. The Making of Modern Afghanistan. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

Prakash, Gyan. 1995. ‘Introduction: After Colonialism’. In After Colonialism: Imperial Histories and Postcolonial Displacements, 3–17. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Said, Edward W. 2003. Orientalism. London: Penguin.

Savic, Bojan. 2020. Afghanistan Under Siege: The Afghan Body and the Postcolonial Border. London: I.B. Tauris.

Further Reading on E-International Relations

 

Review – Decolonizing Dialectics

Decolonizing Dialectics
by George Ciccariello-Maher
Durham/London: Duke University Press, 2017

What would it mean to decolonize the philosophical tradition of dialectics? In this ambitious if uneven work, George Ciccariello-Maher aims to establish a conception of dialectical thought adequate to the premises of anticolonial critical theory. Centrally, Decolonizing Dialectics seeks to demonstrate the relevance of dialectical thinking for the problematics of decolonial theory, and, as a related effort, attempts to establish the significance of such a philosophical framework for the practical realities of anticolonial and anti-imperialist politics. The following review sets the book in intellectual and historical context before reviewing its various lines of argument and interpretation.

Few philosophical schema are as implicated in political life as Hegel’s dialectic. After his death in 1831, the Prussian philosopher’s legacy immediately divided into Right and Left camps: the former remained faithful to Hegel’s prognosis that the dialectic of history had reached its culmination with the advent of constitutional monarchy in the German principality, while the latter saw the persistence of Christian monarchism as a political and intellectual blockage, forestalling the movement of history itself. These Left Hegelians produced philosophical critiques of both Christianity and the modern State. The writings of Bruno Bauer, Ludwig Feuerbach and Max Stirner, among others, laid the intellectual foundations for later currents of leftist thought: existentialism, materialism and anarchism.

It is in the work of Marx and Engels, of course, that dialectical thought finds its greatest, and now most highly politicized, expression. Perhaps the safest way to summarize the place of ‘the dialectic’ within Marxism is simply by saying that, across the tradition, dialectics seems to name the variety of dynamics emerging at the juncture between our received social categories and our concrete experience of historical change. In the broadest sense in which Marx employs the concept, dialectics is a form of thinking which privileges historical situations in which the standard pattern of social existence generates logical disjunction, and even full-blown contradictions, in our social and cognitive experience. For much of the twentieth century, however, the dialectic was reduced to an artefact of Cold War ideology. ‘Diamat’, or Dialectical Materialism, became the official doctrine of the Soviet Union, following the turn to Marxist orthodoxy pioneered by Stalin. Partly as result of these associations, dialectics were gradually denounced in the Western academe. As Timothy Brennan points out, ‘the practitioners of theory in the poststructuralist ascendant saw their task as burying dialectical thinking’ by substituting a broadly Hegelian-Marxist critical theory for the methods of French structuralism.

Against this background, George Ciccariello-Maher’s Decolonizing Dialectics is a worthwhile contribution to the revival of dialectical thought. For he attempts to rethink the relationship between dialectics and the various strands of anticolonial critical theory now prominent in many ongoing IR debates. In particular, Ciccariello-Maher’s attempts to illustrate the significance of dialectical philosophy for the ongoing project of intellectual and political decolonizing. An increasingly prominent feature of academic and wider political discourse, decolonizing begins from a critique of the ways in which Eurocentric ideas underpin essential categories of social and political theory. It illuminates the constitutive role of Western empire and colonialism in the formation of modern culture, and seeks to open theoretic pathways obscured by the political-intellectual hierarchies of imperial and colonial rule. ‘Why is My Curriculum White?’, as the name of one such UK-based campaign puts it. Given the widely-touted Eurocentrism of Hegel’s philosophy—a relationship brilliantly excavated by Susan Buck-Morss—a work which succeeded in establishing dialectical thought at the centre of post- and decolonial theory would arguably achieve a major intellectual coup. Indeed, as much postcolonial academic theory has drawn its intellectual resources from poststructuralism, it is fascinating to consider the significance of the Hegelian-Marxist tradition for the general aims of decolonizing. How successful is Ciccariello-Maher’s attempt to establish dialectics as a decolonial method?

In the book’s introductory chapter, Ciccariello-Maher locates the origins of his own intellectual project within a variety of social movements which emerged in direct political contestation to the ‘unipolar neoliberal world’ of the 1990s. In the first place, a decolonized dialectics therefore attempts a vision of dialectical thought stripped of the teleology and determinism characteristic of Fukuyama’s famous The End of History—a quasi-Hegelian take on the end of the Cold War, in which liberal, Western capitalist democracy figures as the culmination of historical development. While opposition to such teleological thinking is hardly controversial, Ciccariello-Maher argues that dialectical thought is also potentially capable of grasping a second feature of the post-Cold War conjuncture. As political scientists have widely observed, the ‘New Social Movements’ of the 1990s and 2000s have been characteristically heterogeneous — i.e, composed of multiple identity-formations, from race to gender, class and nation. In this context, Ciccariello-Maher argues that a dialectical orientation may enable theorists and activists to avoid two equally unattractive conceptions of resistance movements —that is, either the ‘troubling unity’ of majoritarian politics (‘the 99 %’)—or the ‘meaningless multiplicity’ of some autonomist political theories in which social struggle is reduced to the level of the micropolitical.

The central claim of the book, in other words, is that dialectical thinking should occupy a privileged place in our attempt to grasp a political landscape in which neither the concepts of unity nor difference adequately capture the dynamics of anticolonial and anti-capitalist politics. This means establishing a conception of dialectics that is neither unitary, teleological and linear nor Eurocentric in its theoretical assumptions. More specifically, it means reconceiving dialectics as a theoretical lens which, rather than ‘the totality’, privileges rupture and conflict as the major shapes of political movement. As the author describes in one characteristic formulation:

This is a dialectical counterdiscourse that, by foregrounding rupture and shunning the lure of unity, makes its home in the centre of the dialectic and revels in the spirit of combat, the indeterminacies of political identities slamming against one another, transforming themselves and their worlds unpredictably in the process. This is a dialectical counterdiscourse that, by grasping the momentary hardening of group identities, grants weight to a separatist moment in a dialectics —at the expense of premature— but does so without succumbing to a hermetically essentialist separatism, be it of class, race, nation or otherwise. (pp.6-7).

Structurally, the book is divided into five chapters. Organized around readings of George Sorel, Frantz Fanon and Enrique Dussel, the first four of these lay the theoretic foundations of a decolonizing dialectics, while the fifth attempts to show how Venezuela’s Bolivarian Revolution bears out some of the premises of the dialectical orientation established in the previous chapters. Other sources are scattered throughout the text. The introduction, for example, adds Foucault’s classically poststructuralist critique of ‘centered’ political discourse, while the conclusion incorporates Walter Mignolo’s critique of the epistemology of ‘colonial modernity’. The effect of this mode of argumentation, in which the juxtaposition of seemingly diffuse thinkers takes centre stage, is to produce a style of postmodern theorizing which Frederic Jameson has aptly described as ‘curation’. While the sense of intellectual variety provided by this rhetorical strategy can be engaging, theoretical inflation sometimes seems to get in the way of a controlled exegesis. Although Foucault’s notion of counter-discourse is foregrounded in the introduction, it seems to play a minimal role in the text as a whole. Mignolo seems to appear almost as an afterthought. More importantly, Ciccariello-Maher never presents a sustained analysis the relationship of these thinkers to the Hegelian-Marxist tradition with which dialectics is obviously associated. It is unclear, for example, how notions of cultural difference, exteriority and identity, popularized by postmodern critical theory, are ultimately meant to relate to dialectical images of social structure or historical totality. Rather than a clear appraisal of this sharp divide between distinct theoretical traditions, Ciccariello-Maher prefers to blend them, resulting in some slightly tortured formulations: “Instead of simply loosening the bond of dialectical opposition to the point of multiplicity, then, colonial difference indicates a more concrete and precise way of grasping those oppositions not visible to a traditional dialectics but whose appearance does not mark the impossibility of dialectics entirely” (p.159).

Nonetheless, Ciccariello-Maher’s work can be read as a developed attempt to synthesise seemingly diffuse theoretical ideas. In Chapter 1, this endeavour begins with the discussion of French syndicalist George Sorel. Ironically from the decolonizing standpoint Sorel was the favoured political theorist of Italian Fascism. Mussolini drew on his theories of social mythology and political violence to devastating effect. Regardless, Ciccariello-Maher’s lauds Sorel’s critique of orthodox Marxism. In particular, he allies himself with Sorel’s opposition to ‘Jacobinism’, a type of revolutionary political leadership analogous to Bolshevism in its reliance on organized hierarchy and ‘scientific expertise’. Sorel’s writing philosophy and political organizing led Lenin to describe him as a ‘notorious muddler’, yet Ciccariello-Maher argues that his syndicalist theory provides a unique contribution to dialectical thought. In particular, it is argued that Sorel’s rejection of historical determinism, his emphasis on spontaneous, even violent political rupture, and his appreciation for the importance of both ideology and subjective political agency to development of class politics, render an indispensable resource for anticolonial dialectics. Throughout the chapter, Ciccariello-Maher makes a convincing case that, despite his proclaimed opposition to the dialectical method, Sorel is better understood as developing a flexible conception of dialectics, attuned to the reality of concrete historical situations. But to what extent do Sorel’s conception of political violence and mythology constitute an adequate basis for anticolonial politics? Notably, his thought seems to have played virtually no role in the actually-existing anti-imperialist struggles of the twentieth century. Before returning to this issue, let us reconstruct the argument of the remaining chapters.

Chapters 2 and 3 turn more fully to the decolonial project with the discussion of Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks and The Wretched of the Earth. Although Fanon’s place within the decolonizing project is now well-established, Ciccariello-Maher attempts a novel depiction of the relationship between his philosophical and political writings. Firstly, he draws the connection between Fanon’s account of the ‘zone of nonbeing’—the dehumanised condition of colonized peoples, to whom genuine humanity is denied by Western racism—and Sorel’s understanding of the degradation of the European working class under capitalism. Both thinkers, he argues, embrace this division as the necessary starting point for political action, which must therefore also seek the creation of a properly human community.

Secondly, Ciccariello-Maher seeks to recover Fanon’s idea of ‘the nation’ in Wretched of the Earth from any standard conception of colonial nationalism. Unlike the Euro-American idea of nationhood, he argues, Fanon’s vision of the third-world nation involves the creation of a ‘new humanity’, emerging from the Manichean world of colonialism. Rather than the promise of false unity attendant on Western nationalism, this ‘decolonial nation’ is based on continuous opposition to its own antithesis: the colonial power of the white European. The dialectical character of such formulations is clear, and it is surely right to underscore the distinction between Fanon’s conception of the national and those more conservative brands of nationalism associated both with Europe and the postcolonial world. At the same time, it is not entirely clear how an appeal to ‘the national’ can emerge other than as claim to some kind of political community, conceived in contrast if not opposition to its imagined outside, its others. It is arguably this inside/outside distinction which makes ‘the nation’ in general such a potent model of political imagination, and, if this is so, the relevant distinctions between various national projects — Western, Third-World, Anti-Colonial, Bourgeois and so on — seem to lie less with issues of philosophical form than in their actual strategic content. Yet Ciccariello-Maher tends to pass over the question of how Fanon and other participants in the process of mid-century decolonization conceived the strategic imperatives of their historical situation. As dialectical thought is defined, perhaps above all, by its orientation to historicity, one might have these chapters to engage more with the historical realities mediated by Fanon’s philosophical work.

The theoretical foundations of the book are completed with Chapter 4 which situates Fanon’s decolonial dialectics in ‘productive parallax’ with Argentine philosopher Enrique Dussel. Drawing on Levinas’s conception of exteriority, Dussel is adduced by Ciccariello-Maher as a counterweight to the totalizing tendencies of Hegelian dialectics. Specifically, the argument is that for dialectical thinking is to be properly decolonial, this recognition of the external or the Other is a necessary one. In dialogue with Fanon, it emerges that ‘nonsymmetrical’ relations of difference must be given at least as much importance as the orthodox dialectical formula of thesis ~ antithesis ~ synthesis. Dussel, then, stands for an opposition to closure, teleology and universalism at the level of ethical-political relations. Again the emphasis of the argument is clear: rather than subsuming incommensurable subject-positions within any overarching synthesis, a decolonizing dialectics must take seriously the asymmetrical powers and experiences that constitute concrete political situations. Thus the introduction of Dussel successfully advances and specifies the argument as a whole.

Finally, Chapter 5 relates to the theoretical discussion to contemporary Venezuela. Beginning with a convincing critique of the Eurocentrism of Hardt and Negri’s concept of the Multitude, the chapter elaborates the heterogeneous character the social movements comprising the Bolivarian Revolution. Ultimately, the case of Chavismo demonstrates the necessity of a political-theoretic stance capable of weaving together diverse forms political identity, from small pockets of working class mobilization in the cities, to the large peasant population in rural areas, through to the politics of indigenous struggles and gendered conflicts throughout Venezuela. As Ciccariello-Maher summarizes: ‘The practical and political question is how to articulate and knit together the many different individuals and groups that enter into motion against the structures of exclusion and oppression that blanket and texture the colonized and formerly colonized worlds.’ This requires a process of ‘dialogue’ and ‘translation’ whereby a diversity of social groups and identities can compose a coherent ‘pueblo’ (people) without, at the same time, effacing the lived reality of difference. This case-study successfully realizes the theoretical argument of the book. In contrast to uncritical theories of ‘the multitude’, a dialectics which accords privileged significance to difference and alterity provides a compelling lens of the politics and society of contemporary Venezuela.

Clearly, Ciccariello-Maher’s work represents an original contribution to decolonial political theory. But two particular issues seem worthy of further discussion. First, and most basically, the text is loose both with respect to terminology and the scope of its argument. No definition of dialectics is established at the outset, nor are the stakes and objectives of decolonizing made particularly apparent. Such ambiguity seems intentional. Throughout the book, dialectics are described in a very general manner as consisting of ‘the dynamic movement of conflictive oppositions’ (e.g. p.2), characterised by such dynamics as Carl Schmitt’s conception of politics as emerging from the ‘Friend/Enemy’ distinction (pp.41-42). One can see the appeal of such open formulations. But one should also be aware of their vagueness. For example, if as Ciccariello-Maher argues, dialectics do not erase difference into some new synthesis, why not simply use the term ‘dialogical’? Hegel himself used this term to characterise relations of coexistence that are existential and relativistic, rather than synthetic and transformative. (For an IR audience, the first chapter of Iver Neumann’s Uses of the Other is illuminating on these distinctions.) Similarly, because no sustained account of the relationship between dialectical thought and other, traditions of post- or decolonial theory is provided, it remains somewhat unclear what dialectics — as opposed to say, deconstruction — offers that other philosophical systems cannot. In the absence of a controlled account of its theoretical context, the argument never transcends the level of the suggestive.

As intimated above, the second, and more significant, series of problems relate to the book’s limited engagement with the actual history of anticolonialism and anti-imperialism. Given the arguments presented in the chapter on Sorel, it is not difficult to discern the reasons for this absence. For Ciccariello-Maher the kind of Jacobin political organization established by Lenin and the Bolshevik’s represents a barrier to the true decolonizing—principally, one infers, because such party-forms rested on institutionalized leaderships with authority of over strategic decision making. The fact remains, however, that many of the most successful anticolonial and anti-imperialist projects of the twentieth century rested on the appropriation—often uneasy, always critical—of this essentially Leninist formula. In China, the revolution led by Mao’s party developed new conceptions of historical development and dialectical contradiction attuned to the realities of anti-imperialism. Likewise, in Cuba Castro’s revolutionary program adapted the writings of Marx and Lenin to articulate a theory of popular revolution constituted of cross-class alliances. Such a dynamic has been familiar across Latin America. In Ghana, independence leader Kwame Nkrumah also combined Leninist and Pan-Africanist strands of thought as the title of his Neo-colonialism: The Last Stage of Imperialism implies. This constellation of Marxian projects was not, in Ciccariello-Maher’s terms, anti-Jacobin. But they achieved gains against imperialism far in advance of Sorel. Obviously, one can criticize the political credentials of such projects, but one can hardly ignore them.

This raises larger questions about the nature of the decolonial project Ciccariello-Maher envisages. For it is not at all clear that the prerequisites for the decolonizing process he proposes would actually be met by any of the anti-imperialist movements of the twentieth century. Even in Venezula, Ciccariello-Maher’s chosen case-study, the highpoint of the Bolivarian Revolution and its revolt against American imperium was also the moment at which Chavez achieved a national hegemony over both state and society. As Ciccariello-Maher points out, the realities of this scenario do not easily conform to a Western conception of nationalism. But nor do they validate a syndicalist conception of political revolt: one can expect the power of communal organization in Venezuela to decline as the hegemony of the United Socialist Party wanes. Dialectics aside, actually-existing anticolonialism has rarely assumed the anarchist form proposed in the book’s final pages. The strategic imperatives of political organization in the context of a vast power-asymmetry have left a more complicated imprint than any straightforward anti-statism.

Further Reading on E-International Relations

Review – Decolonizing Politics: An Introduction

Decolonizing Politics: An Introduction
By Robbie Shilliam
Polity, 2021

Robbie Shilliam’s Decolonizing Politics is an audacious introduction to the academic study of politics across the four subfields of political theory, political behaviour, comparative politics and international relations. It is audacious in its unapologetic demonstration of how — from Aristotle to Kant, Adam Ferguson to Woodrow Wilson, Martin Wight and beyond — our foundational understandings of the political world are “filtered through colonialism far more than we imagine to be the case” (p.7). A decisive argument of Shilliam’s book is that today, “political science remains indebted to approaches, debates and categories that emerged to make sense of the challenges that imperial centers faced in ruling over the colonial margins that they had created” (p.3). Whether addressing the themes of universal rights in political theory, citizenship in political behaviour, development in comparative politics, or war and peace in international relations, Shilliam offers a tour de force of the colonial and racial logics that underwrite each subfield of political science. But the book is audacious as well for its remarkably creative effort to decentre the centre of this political world, and our understandings of it, through its often-ignored margins. 

Decolonizing Politics is a necessary book, an exemplary exercise in decolonizing knowledge. Shilliam does not merely assert the need to decolonize politics as an academic field; in this book, he manifests how that task can be undertaken. Among other means, he undertakes this task across the four subfields by putting the racist logics of Kant’s anthropological writings in conversation with Sylvia Wynter’s conception of the human (chapter two); by making Frantz Fanon speak against the grain of the “race science” grounding political behaviour as a subfield of political science (chapter three); by inviting Walter Rodney to contest comparativist efforts to ascertain degrees of development (chapter four); and by valorising the insights of anti-colonial peace movements in the study of international relations (chapter five). 

Shilliam is explicit about his method, the three “key manoeuvres” that he makes in each chapter. First, beginning with Aristotle, he recontextualises political thinkers within “the imperial and colonial contexts that form the backdrop of their ruminations” (p.15). Second, he reconceptualises the contributions of these thinkers by “tracking the connecting tissue that arranges concepts and categories in a logical fashion” to reveal how colonial logics animate these concepts and categories in political science (p.16). Third, recognising that “the decolonizing mission” cannot be achieved solely by a critical evaluation of the canon — a necessary but insufficient endeavour — Shilliam reimagines the four popular subfields of political science by “gleaning” the margins of power (p.17). He attempts this third and most creative manoeuvre of the book based on the crucial premise that “studying only the center does not reveal to you the margins; but studying from the margins can inform you of the margins, the center and their relationality” (p.18). 

After the introduction, the second chapter of the book interrogates the subfield of political theory and examines how Kant’s anthropological writing “maps out a particular geography of race which betrays a fundamental logic of difference: the white race can fulfil human potential; the other races cannot” (p.27). In Shilliam’s version of Kant’s vision, only white European men are “racially counted as properly human,” while the rest of humanity is to be treated through the practical guide Kant provides for their colonisation (p.27). In the second part of this chapter, Shilliam turns to Sylvia Wynter, a ground-breaking Jamaican scholar of the humanities, to reimagine how “the colonial and racist logic that distinguishes the properly human from the non-properly human” can be revolutionised (p.28). As Shilliam recognises, Wynter is not satisfied with exposing the colonial overrepresentation of Christian-rational Man (what she calls Man1) as humanity during the Renaissance and its enlightened aftermath. Nor is she content with demonstrating the replacement of Man1 with a secularised Man2 around the 19th century as the overrepresentation of humanity. For then, instead of Christianity, Man2 comes to be understood in terms of biology and inheritance and turns into (whom Wynter describes as) a pale-skinned Homo oeconomicus, an “‘economic man,’ who has evolved so as to be able to meet his needs and satisfy his interests through the capitalist market” (p.45). Both the frustration and promise of this chapter lies in its effort to demonstrate how debates in contemporary political theory on the extent, applicability, and origins of rights are “inadequate if they do not address the colonial logics that constitute the ‘human’ — a racialised man masquerading as humanity at large” (p.51). While Shilliam entertains the possibility that “the very idea of the ‘human’ is partial and discriminatory” (p.39), he does not quite address how we could be “thinking against humanity” to remedy our contemporary predicament.

In the historical context of expanding empire, increased immigration, and industrial urbanisation in late 19th century UK and USA, the third chapter of Decolonizing Politics examines how “a logic of race heredity” became foundational to the subfield of political behaviour (p.55). As in other chapters, Shilliam develops this examination by focusing on key figures, including Walter Bagehot (former editor-in-chief of the Economist) and Woodrow Wilson, who attempted to apply Bagehot’s analysis of political behaviour based on the science of race heredity to the US congressional system (p.56). Although Wilson was not a card-carrying eugenicist, at the time, “progressivists by and large were, and they reserved the right to use eugenics to redress the degeneration of the Anglo-Saxon race when necessary” (p.69). In this context, Shilliam argues, Wilson “conceived of the challenge of public administration through a logic of race heredity that required the evolved Anglo-Saxon mind to be preserved amid the contamination of the public sphere by degenerate racial inheritances” (p.68). Through a close study of John Watson, Shilliam affirms that in part, “behaviourism” rose to prominence in the early twentieth century as a challenge to eugenics (p.70). Shilliam nevertheless argues that like many “non-racist” scholars of the twentieth century, “Watson took the supposedly biological characteristics associated with race and re-presented them as cultural behaviours. He implicitly ranked these cultural attributes in a hierarchy of values” (p.72). The critical point Shilliam makes in this chapter is that while eugenics and behaviourism were in many ways opposed, “both depicted the competent/incompetent citizen through a set of racial inheritances that set normal and abnormal behaviour, whether culturally or genetically” (p.73). Enter here Frantz Fanon, the anti-colonial psychiatrist, whom Shilliam mobilises as the radical challenger of the very distinction between competent/normal and incompetent/abnormal citizens. Through Fanon, Shilliam attempts to reimagine political behaviour and “caution us against presuming that we can easily escape the logic of race heredity by swapping the ‘gene’ with ‘culture’” (p.84). 

In the fourth chapter on comparative politics, Shilliam argues that “it is with regard to the idea of ‘development’ itself that colonial logics can be identified in the comparative approach to political science” (p.85). After recontextualising the emergence of comparative analysis within the expansion of European empires and the challenges that came with maintaining them, Shilliam turns to the formalisation of the subfield of comparative politics at the beginning of the Cold War, problematising the comparativist distinction between “traditional” and “modern” societies. In this chapter, Shilliam also conceptualises “the colonial paradox of comparison,” which consists of the acceptance of difference analytically, and its simultaneous disavowal normatively (p.100). As he convincingly argues, it is through a politics of assimilation that the colonial paradox of comparison is attempted to be resolved, which legitimises both violence and domination. In the last section of the chapter, Shilliam turns to Tanzania and a particular moment in 1967 when Julies Nyerere, the leader of the newly independent state, expounded a new development policy of self-reliance. Here, Shilliam examines the work of radical scholars who taught at Dar es Salaam University — including Walter Rodney — to reimagine the meaning of “development.” Shilliam demonstrates how, by focusing on relations of exploitation, these scholars “managed to avoid the analytical embrace of difference and normative disavowal of difference that comprised the colonial paradox of comparison” (p.115). What is less clear is whether the framework of “under-development” devised by radical intellectuals at Dar es Salaam University thereby managed to break with the modern yardstick of “development.”

The fifth chapter of the book addresses international relations. Here, through a close study of the English historian Martin Wight’s writings on “international society” circa 1959, Shilliam forges his central argument that the pessimism evident in the study of international relations is “less a result of the logic of anarchy and more a colonial logic concerning the loss of empire” (p.121). In Shilliam’s account, Wight lamented the decline of the Commonwealth model of good imperial governance that was based on a “racialized combination of equality and hierarchy: interdependence for white peoples and polities; dependence for non-white peoples and subjects” (p.127), which was the source of his “conservative pessimism” (p.136). In the latter parts of the chapter, Shilliam proposes that “peace movements in the service of anti-colonial self-determination provide us with a very different logic as to the causes and prospects of peace on a global level” (p.121). In particular, through an intersectional analysis, he examines the struggle against nuclear testing in the Pacific in which Pacific women were central activist-strategists. In doing so, Shilliam attempts to demonstrate how we can arrive at a fundamental reimagination of the causes of war and prospects for peace, though he refrains from spelling out what the tenets of this reimagination could be, apart from its intersectional anti-colonialism. Towards a conclusion in the last chapter, Shilliam turns to the Chicanx queer theorist Gloria Evangelina Anzaldúa (1942-2004) to think through how and why “those at the margins, who have suffered [existential] crises longest, might provide the most edifying ideas and effective analyses concerning the redemption of humanity from war and destruction” (p.149).

I began this review by asserting the audaciousness of Robbie Shilliam’s Decolonizing Politics. Allow me to conclude with the acknowledgement that this brief engagement with the book has not done justice to its learned richness, the fine detail and moving spirit through which Shilliam engages with each subfield of political science. Whether one has already come to experience the decolonizing pulse beating in the academy or not, Decolonizing Politics is recommended reading for any student of politics—anyone in fact, who has ever been a student.