This article discusses the way in which substantive criminal law is generally taught in United States law schools and argues that more room should be given in these courses to familiarize students with the horrendous nature of much of our criminal law system—in particular the terrible conditions faced by most prison inmates after conviction.

Kafka’s works very often work as parables in which the lesson has been lost; or at least is ingeniously obfuscated from immediate understanding from the reader. His short story “In the Penal” Colony is no exception: the Traveller visits a penal colony with an unusual take on capital punishment as a sophisticated machine, built by the former commandant, inscribed unto the flesh of the criminals the law whose violation has resulted in their excruciating painful death. Our proposal is (...) that the story is a clear reference of a very commonplace Jewish ritual of laying “tefillin”, i.e. phylacteries containing certain commandments and to be affixed to one’s head and arm every morning, and that such preoccupation of ensuring the transmission of the law by physical inscription unto the mind and the flesh. (shrink)

In 1977 a German literary scholar, Astrid Lange-Kirchheim, published an article announcing an astonishing discovery: credible evidence exists to suggest that Kafka's famous disturbing short story, `In the Penal Colony', published in 1919 but first written in 1914, echoes and reworks, in several of its key images and turns of phrase, elements of an essay published in 1910 in the German literary magazine, Die neue Rundschau, bearing the title `Der Beamte' (`The Civil Servant', or `The Official' or `The Functionary') (...) by Alfred Weber, younger brother of Max Weber. Most Kafka scholars today accept Lange-Kirchheim's findings and recognize the importance of `Der Beamte' as at least one crucial reference point for Kafka's writing. Yet little wider awareness of the connection seems to exist among historians of sociology and other scholars of the history of the human sciences. This article comprises a summary of Lange-Kirchheim's analysis together with a complete annotated translation of `Der Beamte' by Alfred Weber in English. (shrink)

This article offers a close reading of Kafka’s In the Penal Colony, exploring the text as a radical reflection on the nature of modernity in general, and Jewish modernity in particular. The article posits that In the Penal Colony is a meditation on the relation between suffering, transgression and law. For Kafka, where modernity is understood as the incapacity of linking suffering and transgression (sin), the old order is one where the relationship between suffering and transgression is understood (...) as fundamental, and functions as a principle of readability of reality. For the ancients, it is this readability that endows the law with meaning and validity. By integrating parts of Foucault’s thesis’ on modernity as elaborated in Discipline and Punish with this analysis of In the Penal Colony, this article situates Kafka’s text in the context of his literature in general, positing that it is the key text to understanding his oeuvre. In addition, this article offers an original reflection on one of the hidden themes of Kafka’s work: the crisis of the modern Jew. (shrink)

When I first agreed to undergo chemotherapy, I found myself haunted by Franz Kafka's parable “In the Penal Colony.” The grisly short story was easy to translate into language pertinent to my ominous sense of the standard treatment of advanced ovarian cancer. About to be attached to a remarkable piece of apparatus, the condemned woman tastes fear rising off her tongue as she finds herself led forward into a maze of equipment, but is assured that the machinery should go (...) on working continuously for six hours or six days. If anything were to go wrong, it would only be a small matter that could then be set right at once by the uniformed technician. So my variation began. (shrink)

ZusammenfassungNoch nie ist genauer bedacht worden, auf welche »Fehler« Kafka in seiner Strafkolonie-Erzählung aufmerksam geworden ist. Geht man der Frage nach, erkennt man, dass ein »unverwischbarer« Widerspruch die gesamte Handlung durchzieht: Einerseits ist das Hinrichtungsverfahren in der Strafkolonie allgemein bekannt, andererseits dürfen die Verurteilten nichts darüber wissen, wenn es seinen Zweck erfüllen soll. Woher kommen dann die vielen ahnungslosen Delinquenten, die der Offizier mit seinem »Apparat« hinrichtet? Diese im Text nie berührte Unklarheit hat weitere Widersprüche zur Folge und lässt überdies (...) erkennen, dass man sich auch auf den Reisenden als Beurteiler nicht verlassen kann. Eine befriedigende Auflösung der Unstimmigkeiten findet sich nicht. Es gibt da tatsächlich einen »Wurm, der selbst das Volle der Geschichte hohl macht«, wie Kafka selbst festgestellt hat.Serious consideration has never been given to the »mistakes« which aroused Kafka’s attention in his narrative, The Penal Colony. An exact investigation indicates that an »indelible« contradiction permeates the entire plot: On the one hand, the special kind of execution is generally known throughout the penal colony; on the other hand, the condemned are not supposed to know of it so that it can serve its purpose. So where do the many unknowledgeable delinquents come from, to be executed by the officer with his »apparatus«? This ambiguity, which is never touched upon in the text, results in further contradictions and also shows that one cannot rely upon the traveler as an evaluator. There is no satisfactory solution of the inconsistencies: it is really a »worm« in the story »which hollows out the substance of it«, as Kafka himself determined. (shrink)

This study aims to grasp the two distinct artworks one is from the literary field: Penal Colony, written by F. Kafka and the other one is from painting: The Large Glass, designed by M. Duchamp. This text tries to unravel the similarities betwe- en these artworks in terms of two main significations around “The Officer” from Penal Colony and “The Bachelors” from The Large Glass. Because of their vital role on the re-production of status-quo, this text asserts that (...) there is a similarity between them in the name of being part of the dispositions of body and desire. First of all, the text focuses on Penal Colony, especially on “The Officer” in or- der to observe his obsession towards the order that ruled by former and the late officer of colony. Deleuze & Guattari conceptualize it as “abstract-machines” and it refers to a contingent state of being which is produced as an obligatory entity. Besides, The Officers’ application via a “labeling machine” on inmates creates a framewok of a dispositif in Foucauldian terminology. Secondly, it is emphasized that The Bachelors from the Large Glass for his context, due to its reference for the concept of desire and a metaphorical connotation for desire as “cocoa”. The Large Glass is also turn around the dispositif in a different way: love. It is stated that criticizing the love to nowhere which belongs to The Bachelors and it can be found that there is an abstract-machine again in back of this practice and it converts The Bachelors’ energeia to make an apparatus possible and operative. (shrink)

More than just a jail, Rikers has become a site of shifting discourse on punishment and justice in the United States. In the book Life and Death in Rikers Island, Homer Venters argues that the systematic failures of jails to provide appropriate safety and care constitute human rights violations and public health risks. The former chief medical officer and commissioner of correctional health services for the NYC Health and Hospitals system, Venters offers critical insight on the Rikers jail system. “Because (...) jails are chaotic and concealed from outside view,” he asserts, “we only become aware of them when very bad outcomes occur, such as deaths.” Life and Death's success lies in how it blends Venters's experiences on the ground as a health care professional with the empirical data he's been able to collect and analyze over the tenure of his career. According to Venters, all suicides, homicides, and accidental deaths in jail are jail attributable, as they reflect system‐wide failures in safety. (shrink)

Sterba argues that God would be ethically bound to implement a set of exceptionless evil prevention requirements. However, he argues that the world as we know it is not as it would be if God were applying them. Sterba concludes that God does not exist. In this paper, I offer a penal colony theodicy that will show how the world as we know it is entirely compatible with God’s implementation of such evil prevention requirements.

Narrative fiction has the power to unsettle our deep-seated intuitions and expectations about what it means to live an ethically good life, and the kind of society that best facilitates this. Sometimes its disruptive power is disclosive, leading to an ethically significant shift in perception. I contend that the disruptive and disclosive powers of narrative fiction constitute a potential for ethical knowledge. I construe ethical knowledge as a learning process, oriented by a concern for truth, which involves the rational agency (...) and affective engagement of an embodied human subject. For the purposes of showing this, I engage critically with Adorno’s reading of Kafka, using Kafka's story ‘In the Penal Colony’ to challenge Adorno’s analysis. (shrink)

The Black antislavery theorist Quobna Ottobah Cugoano (c.1757–c.1791) is increasingly recognized as a noteworthy figure in the history of philosophy. Born in present-day Ghana, Cugoano was enslaved at the age of 13 and shipped to Grenada, before being taken onwards to England, where the 1772 Somerset court ruling in effect freed him. His Thoughts and Sentiments on the Evil of Slavery [1787/1791] broke new ground by demanding the immediate end of the slave-trade and of slavery itself, without any compensation to (...) slaveholders. Notwithstanding this, Cugoano endorsed the legitimacy of penal enslavement on principled grounds – like many other abolitionists writing in late eighteenth-century Britain. “Every free community might keep slaves, or criminal prisoners in bondage” – and even sell them. Amidst the growing literature exploring Cugoano’s abolitionism, his paradoxical justification of penal slavery has bewildered commentators. Far from an offhand inconsistency, I argue that this justification is deeply embedded within his moral and legal philosophy; constraining his antislavery arguments while simultaneously serving retaliatory aims. His two-pronged principle of just punishment – the lex talionis (‘eye for an eye, bondage for bondage’) as tempered by mercy – sometimes demands penally enslaving colonial slaveholders and slave-traders in turn. Throughout, I compare Cugoano’s justification of penal enslavement with those of other early modern philosophers, especially Locke and Kant. This helps me position Cugoano within the history of philosophy, thus making his views more accessible to a wider philosophical audience. It also indicates just how deeply theories of punishment shaped philosophical thinking about penal bondage in the period. (shrink)

Despite the persistence of violence inside and around prisons, and the dubious adequacy of criminal law to respond to victim–survivors, international human rights (IHR) discourse increasingly promotes the mobilisation of the state’s penal apparatus to respond to human rights violations, including violence against women (VAW). Using an anticolonial feminist approach, this article scrutinises the ontological and epistemological commitments underlying ‘human rights penality,’ by analysing features of the Western-colonial register vis-a-vis more relational worldviews. Separateness, abstraction, and transcendence broadly underpin the (...) exclusion of embodied experience, context, and material reality from the juridical field. In the second part, through discourse analysis of Inter-American and European case law, the author shows the deployment of human rights penality, the displacement of experience, and the disregard of context in IHR discourse. VAW is construed as a procedural and penal matter: it is the absence of a penal process that courts regard as failure to protect women, rather than the state’s inability/unwillingness to address structural subordination. Moreover, the ‘virtues’ attributed to the penal system justify its expansion, which facilitates the continuity of penal violence and debilitates alternative approaches to justice. Finally, the author posits penal abolition as an anticolonial praxis, pointing at examples of anti-carceral feminist work. (shrink)

One of the most common critiques of Marx is that he mistook the birth pangs of capitalism for its death throes, on the basis of which he made the completely erroneous prediction of the increasing immiseration of the working class – a critique that rather superficially reduces immiseration to a simple matter of standard of living. The goal of this essay, however, is to expose the corporeal depths of Marx's notion of immiseration, and, in so doing, to show that immiseration (...) is by no means a long-since disappeared attribute of early capitalism. To do so, I reread the chapters on surplus-value in Capital by following the corporeal leitmotifs suggested in Franz Kafka's short story, 'In the Penal Colony'. Kafka's narration of the condemned learning the meaning of his fate through the corporeal experience of wounding evokes Marx's very graphic narration in Capital of workers experiencing exploitation and immiseration on their own bodies. Raising themes found later in Kafka's narrative, Marx tells of the arranging of the entire workplace 'under the command of capital', of the design and employment of technology both to secure that command and to extract surplus-value; and he shows how capital, like Kafka's torture machine, writes its messages on the body of labour in a script not immediately decipherable by observers. The history that Marx tells in Capital is less graphic in form than Kafka's, but it is in content at least as fantastic and horrific – perhaps even more so. Their common concern with machines painfully inscribing bodies helps to highlight the corporeal dimension of Marx's concept of immiseration. (shrink)

This paper deals with the memoirs of two Bengali revolutionary women, Bina Das’ Srinkhal Jhankar published in 1948, translated as Bina Das: A Memoir, and Kamala Dasgupta’s Rakter Akshare (Written in Blood) in 1954 to argue how their subjective desire and experience dismantle the gendered rhetoric of nationalism in colonial Bengal. The accounts of Bina and Kamala present their involvement in militant activism and subsequent imprisonment. Notably, there is an inherent urge in their writings to sacrifice life for the nation (...) and a determination not to retreat from the torturous conditions of the colonial prison. The paper contends that the rhetoric of nationalism in colonial Bengal is embedded in hegemonic masculinity that initially confined women to the spiritual and domestic realm and later allowed them to be educated and modern without acknowledging their subjectivity. Activities of these political women thus destabilise the gender discourse prevalent in the private and public sphere of colonial society, which calls for a revision of the nationalist historiography. So, this essay will examine how tropes of the body, self-sacrifice, and penal experience, as produced in these memoirs, negotiate the nationalist ideology, subvert the binary of masculine and feminine, and establish their political subjectivity. (shrink)

This paper advances the argument that Foucault's notion of 'bodily inscription' can be found in more rudimentary form in the Nietzschean notion of 'bodily descent'- the path qua pathology of 'going under' first outlined by Nietzsche in Thus Spoke Zarathustra. The argument is set within context of the ongoing debate in Foucault studies about whether a non-discursive dimension of the body can be posited or whether the body is always already and inevitably discursive. Following Judith Butler's assessment that there is (...) in Foucault's work the presence of a body outside of signification, the present paper argues that Foucaultian bodily inscription is akin to Nietzschean bodily descent: both are predicated on and depend upon the occluded presence of an inherently 'indecent' or 'undisciplined' body, one that disrupts the discursive economy of subjectivization (assujettissement). Through the detailed reading of an exemplary tale by Franz Kafka ('In the Penal Colony'), we attempt to describe the structural axes or disciplinary matrix that descends and is imposed upon 'undisciplined' or 'indecent' bodies, revealing in so doing the 'indecent' body subject to this descent, the body 'crossed over' and 'crossed out' - 'double crossed' - by these axes, by this matrix. We suggest that it is at the crossroads or the crossing of these axes, precisely at the point where the indecent and untidy body is 'inscribed' and 'disciplined', that Foucault, like Nietzsche, locates a point that points beyond the structure, beyond axial and axiomatic binaries, to a body of inherent possibilities, affective virtualities, and spirited resistance. (shrink)

This article asks if the incorporation of Sumak Kawsay, a concept from Andean philosophy, into the Constitution of Ecuador, has impacted the legal regulation of violence against women. It examines the trajectory of penal reform in the field of domestic violence and suggests that the decolonial shift in the Constitution has failed to significantly disrupt the dominant framework of penality in which gender violence regulation is inscribed. At the same time, feminist demands have been reframed through the formations of (...) criminal law and the dominant political discourse, resulting in provisions that reproduce a positivistic logic and a family protection rationality, with problematic consequences for women’s access to justice on the ground. If securing success in legal reform entails translating emancipatory demands into established and unchallenged penal paradigms, the potential of decolonial notions is overshadowed by the language, formalities and underlying assumptions of criminal law. (shrink)

The Oyapock River has been the border between France and Brazil since the Treaty of Bern came to resolve a centuries-old dispute between the two states. Only populated by indigenous communities and a few adventurers, the two banks of the river are untouched by any lasting colonial and national settlement before the second half of the 19th century. Penal colonization is the formula adopted by the two states to fill the "void" of a border to be formalized. The criminal (...) models circulate and are reinterpreted by participating with great intensity in the making of the territory. (shrink)

In this article, I explore the differend between the body and the law, without conceiving the body as a material or natural object external to the rules of discourse. To do this I use Jean-François Lyotard's reflections on Franz Kafka's short story `In the Penal Colony' to reflect on the bodily mode of exposure to sensibility: that is, aesthesis. This exposure comes `before' the law and is radically heterogeneous to the binary organizations of discourse, and not simply its other. (...) This exposure to sensibility is a bodily mode that offers an other freedom to that prescribed by the law, and consequently it is this first `touch' of sensibility which the law must eradicate. By inscribing itself on to the body through body modificatory practices, it brings the body within its normative structures. I draw out the parallels between kafka's story and the simulated human currently on display on the Internet - the Visible Human Project. In this project, we can witness the materialization of a techno-scientific ideal of the body. As a form of inscription, it reproduces a `complete' body according to the rules laid down within the discursive practice of techno-science. It can do this only by actively forgetting this vital exposure to sensibility which precedes and disrupts it. The aim of this article is to think the violence of the law over this bodily mode of aesthesis and to bear witness to the wrong it institutes. (shrink)

The introduction maps five panoptic-shaped establishments in Australia's colonial history, as well as discusses how the convict industry in Australia developed a unique pattern, alternating out-door and in-door penal servitude. In-door confinement was modelled on a variety of influences, of which Bentham’s is one among many. The label Panopticon might appear inaccurate to describe these prisons, however it is still used today as the term is loaded with connotations with encapsulates some of the spirit of the penal colony.

This takes a little-known reading of Kafka’s “In the Penal Colony” by Lyotard as the starting point for an examination of the relation between body and law. Lyotard’s late notion of the intractable serves as a frame for this examination: explicitly claimed to be an absolute condition of morals, I argue it also has political implications, which are here drawn out through the link between the intractable and the body. In Lyotard’s later writings, the body is usually associated with (...) an originary affectivity, which is sometimes equated with sexual difference but sometimes appears to come “before” and exceed this law of bodily differences. It is the latter case, I argue, that allows for a path to be opened beyond the bodily violence of the law to be found in Kafka, especially if this is framed in terms of a certain “politics of incommensurability.”. (shrink)

GREAT EMPIRES may come and go, but, like the tides, they leave behind a tangled assortment of treasures and trash. In the case of the British Empire, this included much that one might admire, but also a British Protestant morality that was codified in laws that persist to this day. Section 377 of the colonial Penal Code is a striking example. It classed consensual oral and anal sex as “carnal intercourse against the order of nature” and made it a (...) crime punishable with imprisonment for life. When the British administrators withdrew, they took their soldiers, but left their law books behind. Section 377 was recently repealed in India, but it is still very much on the books in Bangladesh. (shrink)

Fisher, Anthony In 1834 convicts of the Norfolk Island penal colony conspired to overpower the troops and take possession of the island. A gang on its way to work turned on their guards. Others, having feigned illness and been transferred to hospital, broke their chains and came to their assistance. But the third wave, of farm workers with farm implements, arrived too late to be of any help. In the fiasco that followed several were killed and after a trial (...) in Sydney thirty-one men were sentenced to death. (shrink)

Michael Ridge At one point in England it was a capital offense to “appear on a high road with a sooty face.”1 I do not know whether anyone was executed for this offense, but many people were sent to Australian penal colonies for such petty crimes as stealing a handkerchief. More recently, Kenneth Payne was sentenced to 16 years in prison for stealing a Snickers Bar in Texas. When the Assistant District Attorney in this case was asked how she (...) could justify putting a man in prison for 16 years for stealing a candy bar she replied, “It was a king size,” and indeed it was – value, $1.00.2 These punishments are vulnerable to many criticisms but the most obvious is that they do not fit the crime. Unfortunately, the idea that the punishment should fit the crime is as difficult to characterize precisely as it is plausible. The doctrine of lex talonis embodied in the slogan “an eye for an eye” provides the most obvious answer to this question but it has the unfortunate vice of being false. In some cases the problems with lex talonis are moral ones – we would debase ourselves if we were literally to rape rapists. In other cases the problems are conceptual – taken literally, the theory seems to have no intelligible application for a crime like treason, for example. These problems are familiar and defenders of lex talonis typically qualify the doctrine in ways that are supposed to avoid them. However these qualifications typically are either ad hoc or too metaphorical to be helpful. Intriguingly, Michael Davis argues that we can formulate a more precise and non-metaphorical account of proportionality by.. (shrink)

Thanks to Michel Foucault, Jeremy Bentham's panopticon has become the iconic modern prison. But Foucault and most of his readers neglect the fact that a significant proportion of Bentham's panoptical writings were concerned with critically contrasting his ideal prison with the reality of penal transportation to New South Wales. Among his many criticisms, Bentham focussed particular attention on the problem of convict reform, arguing that surveillance was necessary to ensure genuine reformation, and that such surveillance was impossible in the (...) open prison of New South Wales. This connection between reformation and surveillance was a pervasive feature of Bentham's thought, reflected in his ideas for a centralised information state as well as his wider corpus on criminal justice. In this paper, I historicise Bentham's theory of reformative surveillance, and argue that Bentham, writing from London, misunderstood the importance of surveillance to the penal colony. At least in theory, convicts in New South Wales were subject to extensive systems of surveillance, and the failure of these systems in practice point to the limitations of Bentham's own, largely hypothetical, plans. (shrink)

When we read The Trial and In the Penal Colony together, we read about the logic of law, crime, punishment, and guilt. Of course, we cannot know the law, or, as Kafka writes, we cannot enter the law. I interpret the idea in this way: the law opens a gate to the truth. Alas, no one can enter the law, or come to know the truth, as Kafka says. The consequences are devastating: one cannot know the name of one’s (...) own crime, which is to say guilt is eternal and permanent; nothing can absolve us. Only one solution exists. Josef K. in The Trial should have committed suicide like the Officer in “Penal Colony.” That is to say, perhaps, that you always are your own judge and executioner. Guilt cannot be doubted and thus, you are doomed. Both narratives are cruel and ruthless in their own way in their moral pessimism. (shrink)

Abstract:The central inquiry of this article concerns the ethical orientation within post-structuralism, specifically questioning its potential affinity with deontology. While the “philosophers of difference” offer divergent perspectives on the doctrine of judgment, Jacques Derrida folds it within Deconstruction as a nomo-aporetic transcendental horizon. To understand this operation and its potential ethical significance, I suggest Jean-François Lyotard offers the best counter-model with which to compare against Derrida’s. Amongst their direct and indirect exchanges with each other is a dialogue concerning the law (...) and its fundamental ground. Through their respective readings of Kafka – Derrida’s reading of “Before the Law” and Lyotard’s reading of “In the Penal Colony” – both attempt to delineate how the specific nature of the ground of the law determines the way in which an individual becomes subject to the law. Despite the enigmatic nature of their discourses, their comparison reveals converging and diverging trajectories in their ethical reflections as they push toward thinking the limits of lawfulness. Through such a comparative study of their texts, this exploration aims to unveil the shared fugitive vector of their ethical contemplations within the post-structuralist framework. (shrink)

This book makes trouble: it explores the reality that digital culture is largely an extension of an older coloniality of power of the global north. It suggests a line of inquiry for the social sciences to reflect on their own imperial role and develop a contemporary critical and pragmatic scope, shifting their gaze from problems to opportunities.

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:GenetGerald PrinceGenet, by Edmund White (with a chronology by Albert Dichy); xliii & 820 pp. London: Picador, 1994, $29.95 paper.Abandoned to a foundling home in 1910 at the age of seven months, he started to steal before puberty, spent over two years as a teenager in the penal colony of Mettray, signed up with the French army for several tours of duty, and deserted. He traveled through (...) Europe and was arrested in Albania, Yugoslavia, Austria, Czechoslovakia, Poland. He was also repeatedly arrested and sent to jail in France—for embezzlement, for petty theft, for vagrancy—and his record of convictions made him liable for a life sentence until he was pardoned by the President of the Republic. He looked like a dandified tramp or a retired boxer. He frequented thugs and artists or philosophers, criminals and police chiefs, prostitutes as well as cabinet ministers. A book lover, he owned no books. A homosexual, he was rarely attracted to other homosexuals. A great champion of singularity, he came to feel that all human beings were equally valuable. Though he showed himself capable of impassioned friendship, he extolled and often practiced betrayal. He once boasted of being “strong from never having passed through a woman except at the moment of [his] birth” (p. 594). Yet he was a feminist. For a long time he could barely compose a standard letter in French but, when he died from throat cancer in 1985, he had written several masterpieces. He was Jean Genet.If, in his monumental Saint Genet, Sartre pays more attention to the configuration of the writer’s life than to the moments making up that life, Edmund White, in his admirable biography, patiently aligns the moments and waits for patterns to emerge. Genet is, first of all, a meticulous chronicle and can be savored for the details it provides about the protagonist’s daily life or its context, from gay bars in Pigalle to the 1968 Democratic convention in Chicago which Genet covered for Esquire. We learn many things. For example, that the FBI spelled his name as “John Genet” and Sartre’s as “Jean Paul Sat”; or that Leonard Nimoy (Mr. Spock) started his career by playing in movie versions of two Genet plays: The Balcony and Deathwatch.Through the accumulation of facts and anecdotes, great themes—homosexuality, death, abjection, gesture, power—slowly crystallize and White writes splendid pages on the quality of Genet’s texts (beyond their shock value: Genet said that “poetry is the art of using shit and making you eat it”). Written from 1942 to 1947, his five novels (Our Lady of the Flowers, The Miracle of the Rose, Funeral Rites, A Thief’s Journal, Querelle) treat homosexuality with unsurpassed candor, glorify evil, transvalue all values, and blend sociology and myth, slang and highly formal language, in a sumptuously lyrical prose. With The Balcony, The Blacks, and The Screens—composed between 1955 and 1957—Genet invents a stylized and ritualistic theater to explore the dynamics of power. Finally, in the striking mixture of memoir, pamphlet, and epic called The Prisoner of Love [End Page 146] (1985) Genet exalts two disinherited groups—the Black Panthers, the Palestinians—and suggests that love is the site where uniqueness and universality merge.More generally, certain constants in Genet’s life become evident: the loyalty to the abandoned child he was and the hatred for the bourgeois society that dispossessed him; the need to reject before being rejected; the fascination with power and the affirmation of otherness; the ability to mythify himself as an angel of rebellion. Genet was a sociopath of genius.Above all, by its scrupulous scholarship, its successful determination to remain impartial, and its capacity for authoritative prosaism, White’s biography encourages readers to take a (new) look at Genet’s flamboyantly unorthodox writing. It is a remarkable achievement.Gerald PrinceUniversity of PennsylvaniaCopyright © 1995 The Johns Hopkins University Press... (shrink)

Designed for a wide readership, this book looks at the proble.

The concept of religion as an anthropological category and the idea of race as an organizing principle of human identification and social organization played a major role in the formation of modern/colonial systems of symbolic representation that acquired global significance with the expansion of Western modernity. The modern concepts of religion and race were mutually constituted and together became two of the most central categories in drawing maps of subjectivity, alterity, and sub-alterity in the modern world. This makes the critical (...) theory of religion highly relevant for the theory of race, and both of them crucial for ethics. It follows from this, not only that religion and race have been profoundly intertwined in modernity, but also that any ethics that seeks to take seriously the challenges created by modernity/coloniality has to be, at least to some extent, decolonial. (shrink)

Although a great deal of attention has been paid to the history of intellectual property in Great Britain, very little has been said about the history of intellectual property law in the British colonies. This Article attempts an overview, focusing on the nineteenth century. The author argues that there was no apparent imperial strategy as to the development of colonial intellectual property laws, and that, as a consequence wide variations existed between the laws operative in Britain and the colonies. One (...) exception to this picture existed in relation to literary copyright, where, for reasons that were never clearly articulated, British law had been extended to its colonies from 1814. The overall picture was otherwise one of "legal fecundity," with capacity for variation and experiment by the colonial legislatures constrained more by internalized notions of what was appropriate than by formal, external, limitations imposed from Britain. However, towards the end of the nineteenth century, there appeared a growing desire both in Great Britain, and amongst many of the colonies and self-governing dominions, for a greater level of uniformity. (shrink)

In fall 1844, a party of colonists led by William Keil arrived at what was to become their new home, a gentle slope rising from the bank of the North River in Shelby County, Missouri, about forty-five miles west of Hannibal. One year later the utopian Bethel Colony had been laid out, houses were being added as fast as they could be built, and construction of a steam-powered gristmill was under way.The Bethel colonists were Bible Communists who found the inspiration (...) for their communal life in the book of Acts, which records that in the Early Church "as many as were possessors of lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds and laid them at the apostles' feet; and distribution was made to each as any had need"... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Enlightenment in the Colony: The Jewish Question and the Crisis of Postcolonial CultureSpencer Hawkins (bio)Mufti, Aamir. Enlightenment in the Colony: The Jewish Question and the Crisis of Postcolonial Culture. Princeton UP, NJ: Princeton, 2007. xv + 325 pp.Mufti’s comparison of the Jewish question and the Indian Partition invites readers to join building projects that delineate and then endanger minorities within nations. Literature about minorities speaks a language deliberately (...) distant from the national one. Minority status has little to do with population numbers for Aamir Mufti; instead it signifies [End Page 61] tential victimization through disproportional rights, since “minority is always potentially exile” (Mufti 13). This definition of minority suits his two examples—Jews in Germany and Muslims in India—since in the twentieth century both fledgling nations adopted forms of nationalism that regarded the lives of these minorities as contaminants to the purity of the emergent national body. The prologue catalogues the brutality in India that prompted Mufti to write this book. Among the horrors listed were the destruction of Babri Mosque at Ayodhya in 1992 and the videotaped gang rapes of Muslim women that became a widespread form of entertainment in India. While Mufti reads violence toward minorities as correlative with the rise of nationstates, he considers similarities and differences between nation building in the West and in the subcontinent. In both cases, the new establishment of political equality for citizens came along with the desire to pare down the number of officially recognized citizens. Muslim and Jewish minorities migrated to “minority” nations in the collapsing British Empire, in present-day Pakistan and Israel, respectively, during the respective formations of India and Germany. By founding nations on formerly British-occupied territory, minorities potentially would enjoy the role of nationalist majorities. This solution strikes Mufti as spreading the nationalist contagion onto the minority.The whole book lets literature mark broad cultural attitudes and phenomena. The first chapter observes incipient Jewish nationalism in a work by a British author, Daniel Deronda by George Eliot, who spent time in Germany and grew fascinated with the Jewish question while abroad. Her Britishness reinforces a pattern in Mufti’s schema: British powers facilitate the rise of nationalism among minorities in India and in Germany. Daniel Deronda comes at the tail end of a long discourse on Jews’ relation to Europe. The first of Mufti’s cases within canonical literature is the hope for tolerance and a dialogue of cultures, which G. E. Lessing allegorizes through a drama about Saladin, the Muslim sultan of Egypt and Syria, who learns to trust the eponymous Jewish merchant in Nathan the Wise. “Muslim” stands in for “Christian” since Nathan’s alienation is allegorical for the alienation of Jews in Lutheran Germany. Heinrich Heine weighs in on the advantages to assimilation in this period with his fragmentary novel The Rabbi from Bacherach, where religiously raised Jewish children feel comforted when they hear the Tale of the Nibelungen from Father Rhein, the personification of a river that figures generally for German national myth and, in Heine’s story, as a possible source of comfort for partially assimilated minorities. If we read literature as a barometer of cultural pressures, then the appeal of assimilation for European Jews declines in the late colonial nineteenth century when George Eliot inscribed religion into the “secular” discourse of national citizenship.Since the Israeli state is outside of the range of his argument, we leave the Jewish Question with George Eliot’s philo-Semitism in Daniel Deronda, where the only hope for European Jews is to become a nation and to occupy the Palestinian territory. Mufti compares the concerns of early Zionism and Pakistani nationalism side by side in chapter 2. Pakistani issues dominate chapters 3 to 5. In chapter 2, he launches the comparison with the parallel between Hebrew’s development as a national language to identify [End Page 62] Jews secularly and culturally, not just religiously, and Urdu’s transition from a vernacular language to a national language with the secular goal of creating a Pakistani culture freed from Hindi’s erstwhile predominance. When he depicts language choice as mimetic of specific cultural trends, Mufti indicates the shape of... (shrink)

The 1911 eruption of Taal Volcano in the Philippine province of Batangas took an estimated 1,700–2,000 lives and rocked the foundations of the American colonial state in the archipelago. Since 1898, Americans colonized the Philippine future by shifting the benchmarks for a promised but perpetually delayed independence. Central to this strategy was the contention that colonial Bureaus of Agriculture, Forestry, Lands, and Science would attract investment in tropical commodities on the promise of great future returns by managing territory and discipling (...) so-called tribal peoples into a modern labor force. Forecasting was built into the logic and projects of colonial capitalism. Anticolonial critics, in turn, argued that the American failure to react to seismographic readings—to forecast for disaster—exposed the weakness of American claims to the future while the immediate sale of photographs of the dead and tours of the “volcano zone” hindered the relief. Ensuing contests over settlement on volcanoes, the purpose of monitoring, and the visual importance of Taal shows the centrality of volcanoes to colonial science and technocratic nationalism, and of volcanology to the development of humanitarian science and governance. (shrink)

This book presents an interpretive analysis of the major themes and purpose of Alexis de Tocqueville’s and Gustave de Beaumont’s first work, On the Penitentiary System, thereby offering new insights into Tocqueville as a moderate liberal statesman. The book explores Tocqueville’s thinking on penitentiaries as the best possible solution to recidivism, his approach to colonial imperialism, and his arguments on moral reformation of prisoners through a close reading of Tocqueville’s first published text. The unifying political concept of all three discussions (...) is Tocqueville’s underlying concern to pursue moderation between institutional and imaginative extremes in order to maintain liberal values. In both thinking moderately and advocating for moderate political action, Tocqueville’s On the Penitentiary System renews an emphasis on the importance of civic engagement and the balance between philosophy and praxis. (shrink)

This paper examines how the 19th-century British naturalist Alfred Russel Wallace used biogeographical mapping practices to draw a boundary line between Malay and Papuan groups in the colonial East Indies in the 1850s. Instead of looking for a continuous gradient of variation between Malays and Papuans, Wallace chose to look for a sharp discontinuity between them. While Wallace's "human biogeography" paralleled his similar project to map plant and animal distributions in the same region, he invoked distinctive "mental and moral" features (...) as more decisive than physical ones. By following Wallace in the field, we can see his field mapping practices in action -- how he conquered the problem of local particularity in the case of human variation. His experiences on the periphery of expanding European empires, far from metropolitan centers, shaped Wallace's observations in the field. Taking his cues from colonial racial categories and his experiences collaborating with local people in the field, Wallace constructed the boundary line between the Malay and Papuan races during several years of work in the field criss-crossing the archipelago as a scientific collector. This effort to map a boundary line in the field was a bold example of using the practices of survey science to raise the status of field work by combining fact gathering with higher-level generalizing, although the response back in the metropole was less than enthusiastic. Upon his return to Britain in the 1860s, Wallace found that appreciation for observational facts he had gathered in the field was not accompanied by agreement with his theoretical interpretations and methods for doing human biogeography. (shrink)

The Nile, one of the longest rivers in the world, has not been subjected to a uniform legal regime yet, despite the pressing needs. The hitherto proposals presented by the riparian states of the lower and upper reaches have not been unanimously accepted. Egypt and Sudan face particular difficult situation since the Nile river is their main source of water supply. It is argued that the lack of necessary coordination among all the States in the basin may in the future (...) lead to significant damage and consequences both in terms of access to water and its quality. This short study critically examines past and present initiatives undertaken to solve one of the most controversial aspects of international law in Africa. (shrink)

A crucial imperative for decolonial praxis in the liberal settler colony is to radically delegitimise the prevailing social order. This is regarded as necessary to achieving genuinely decolonial forms of social transformation rather than merely the ongoing modification of colonial rule. I propose here, however, that such objectives depend not simply on delegitimising the colonial regime as such, but also on finding ways to expose and challenge its resources of legitimating power, that is, the capacity to shape and reshape perceptions (...) of legitimacy in the public sphere, and thus render legitimacy a moving rather than static target for opponents. I explore, here, the potential for a basic democratic grammar of contestation to be utilised in this task. The promise of such a grammar lies in its permanent availability to problematise rule arranging powers in the public sphere, and thus work to expose their unjustified nature. It also carries a threat, however, in that its public activation always arouses a broader array of normative forces, some aspects of which might oppose or undermine decolonial objectives. Whilst the democratic grammar holds promise for challenging liberal legitimating power, then, it must also be treated with caution from a decolonial perspective. (shrink)