Tag: Shelley Walia

The future of immigration policy is linked to a willingness to confront the dark past and the brutal realities of the present

The arrival of Columbus in the New World marked the beginning of a long history of human migration, driven by the universal quest for survival, hope and dignity. Yet, in a grotesque inversion of history, contemporary politics in the United States, particularly under the Trump administration, has perversely transformed immigration into a toxic battleground of fear, exclusion and ideological warfare. By erasing this brutal history, successive governments in the United States have perpetuated a myth of exceptionalism, even as it denies the humanity of those seeking refuge on its shores.

As schoolchildren, many of us were asked to write an essay on the theme, “What if Columbus had not discovered America?” Understandably, the very framing of this question is steeped in colonial ideology that assumes that Columbus’s landing was a historic necessity, a great leap for civilization rather than what it actually was. Our answers, drawn from textbooks that valorized explorers and erased victims, inevitably celebrated Columbus’s courage and navigational daring. We were taught to admire the predator, never to mourn the prey.

The destruction of vibrant civilizations

But what if Columbus had not landed in the Bahamas in 1492? What if the Arawaks, the generous, peace-loving people he first encountered, had been allowed to live in peace? What if the Americas had been allowed to evolve on their own terms, with their own cultures, languages, and knowledge systems flourishing unmolested? The Iroquois Confederacy, for instance, had developed a sophisticated democratic system that inspired elements of the U.S. Constitution, though that influence is often buried or denied. These were not “primitive” societies awaiting rescue. They were civilizations with libraries, roads and astronomy, all destroyed in the name of gold and god.

From the early waves of European colonization in the Americas and Africa to the apartheid regimes of South Africa, migration has not merely been a matter of movement. It has also been a means of conquest, expansion and domination. Settler colonial projects thrived through the forceful displacement and systematic downgrading of native populations, manifesting in overt and subtle ways through systems of oppression that are deeply ingrained in societal structures that perpetuate racial disparity and injustice. The U.S., frequently celebrated as an ideal for the “tired, poor, huddled masses”, was itself forged through the expurgation of native peoples and the abuse of enslaved labor. By denying entry to migrants, powerful nations conveniently obscure their own complicity in creating the conditions that drive people to flee.

The intricate dynamics of historical memory and its distortion are starkly illustrated in the U.S.’s approach to immigration and counter-terrorism. Let us for a moment go back to the distressing example of “Geronimo”, the code word said to have been used in the 2011 mission (“Operation Neptune Spear”) to eliminate Osama bin Laden. By appropriating the name of the legendary Apache leader, Geronimo, the U.S. military inadvertently highlighted its historical amnesia. Geronimo was a complex figure, a warrior who resisted Mexican and U.S. military forces, seeking to preserve Apache sovereignty and way of life. Labelling him a terrorist overlooks the nuances of his struggle and reduces it to simplistic binaries.

But this is no isolated misstep, for it is symptomatic of a deeper sickness in the dominant historical narrative; a narrative that begins in 1492 with the mythic arrival of Christopher Columbus. This moment is still described in textbooks, museums and mindless school rhymes as the “discovery” of America. The truth, of course, is far more brutal. Columbus did not discover a new world. He invaded one, and that invasion set in motion one of the most ferocious chapters in human history. Columbus’s arrival heralded not discovery, but genocide. The devastation was total. 

What mainstream historians miss

Mainstream historians seldom dwell on the mass enslavement, the sexual violence or the cultural annihilation. To question Columbus’s legacy is to invite accusations of being “anti-American” or “revisionist”. But if revision means restoring truth to the record, then revisionism is a moral obligation. The problem is not that we remember too little; it is that we remember too selectively.

The Columbus myth, far from being a harmless fable, is the ideological blueprint for centuries of colonial expansion, white supremacy and racial capitalism. It legitimizes the pillaging of the Americas, the enslavement of Africans, and the later interventions of American imperialism under the guise of spreading “freedom”. The mentality that justified the extermination of the Arawaks is the same that rationalizes drone strikes today.

Fast-forward to the 21st century, and the brutal calculus of migration remains unchanged: flee war-torn Syria, economically ravaged Venezuela, or climate-ravaged sub-Saharan Africa, and you will be met with suspicion and hostility at the borders of the Global North. The Trump presidency has been a zenith of this xenophobic fervor, pathologizing immigration as an existential threat to American identity. The border wall, family separations, and the Muslim ban are not just policy aberrations but ideological manifestos that codify cruelty and exclusion. These measures are not pragmatic responses to complex issues; they are declarations of war on the most vulnerable.

Moreover, the resurgence of exclusionary nationalism, a hallmark of Trump-era politics, has biased the discourse around belonging and citizenship. It designates the immigrant not as a fellow human in search of security but as an economic burden, a cultural contagion or a national security risk. What emerges, then, is a moral paradox of nations founded on violent migration and colonization but now busy erecting moral and legal barriers to those seeking refuge.

If settler colonialism is justified under the banner of “civilizing mission”, why should today’s migration be framed illegitimate? The glaring disparity between the revered pioneers of the past and the vilified migrants of today lays bare the insidious role of race, power and historical amnesia in shaping the immigration narrative. 

A fundamental aspiration

Clearly, the future of immigration policy hinges on our willingness to confront the darkest chapters of our past and the brutal realities of our present. We need to excavate the buried subtexts of empire, capitalism and racial domination that continue to shape mobility, and forge a new path forward informed by historical reckoning and a commitment to human dignity. The right to seek safety, to move across borders, is not a privilege to be doled out to the few, but a fundamental human aspiration that must be recognized and protected.

To imagine, therefore, a world in which Columbus had not made landfall is not to indulge in idle fantasy, but to confront the brutal reality of a collective past. It is to consider the possibility of a world unshaped by genocide, a world where Indigenous peoples flourished on their own terms, where empires did not build their foundations on loot and plunder. The truth about history is not a matter of nicety, but a fundamental requirement for justice, accountability, and a future that does not replicate the wrongs of the past.

(Shelley Walia has taught Cultural Theory at Panjab University, Chandigarh. He can be reached at shelleywalia@gmail.com)

 

 

The implications of Donald Trump’s orders extend to the world – supremacy, misogyny, and virulent nationalism threaten academic freedom, intellectual dissent and the emerging world order

“Mr. Trump’s anti-immigrant discourse is not just about creating a scapegoat. It is part of a broader narrative that aims to re-establish nationalist patriotic values and targets globalization. His opposition to uncontrolled immigration is linked to his critique of globalization processes, which he sees as leading to job losses for American workers. This ideology has become a sort of new populist movement that is being embraced by right-wing movements in Europe and elsewhere.” 

The 1960s and 1970s saw a significant shift in the academic landscape, particularly in the humanities and social sciences. This period marked the emergence of a counter-western narrative, where third-world literatures gained prominence, and the master narratives of the West were challenged. As a result, the idea of independence, rewriting histories, and promoting democracy and freedom became increasingly important, as is evident in the student uprisings in the volatile 1960s. Students sought freedom in the classroom and university, leading to massive demonstrations against the establishment as well as against the Vietnam War. Aimé Césaire’s Discourse on Colonialism, Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth, and Edward Said’s Orientalism became the seminal works introduced in the humanities curriculum.

These counter-narratives questioned the West’s idea of white supremacy, describing the strife between the colonizer and the colonized, and paving the way for a more inclusive and diverse academic environment. However, the Trump regime is attempting to undermine this progress by suppressing such discourses of marginalized communities with its impact on universities in mainly two key areas of concern: the defunding of certain critical courses that oppose right-wing ideology, and the clampdown on Palestinian students and supporters of the Palestinian cause. Both issues are closely tied to the university setting.

The rise of the far right

Mr. Trump’s administration has targeted university programs and courses that focus on diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) for defunding. Specifically, the subjects that may be impacted include: diversity and inclusion studies that promote multiplicity, equity, and inclusion on campus, and critical race theory that explores the intersection of race and power in society. Gender Studies, African American Studies, Latinx Studies, Asian American Studies and Native American studies may also face funding cuts, not only undermining academic freedom but also perpetuating a culture of ignorance and intolerance.

The rise of the far-right ideology, consequently, poses a significant threat to academic freedom and intellectual dissent, a danger to the emerging world order. Trumpism, with its emphasis on white supremacy, misogyny, and virulent nationalism, symbolizes this significant threat. Its agenda to suppress research in “left-wing” areas is a blatant attempt to silence centers of higher learning and stifle critical thinking. This silencing is not new, as universities have historically been sites of struggle for marginalized communities. But it is important to draw parallels between the current state of affairs and the post-independence era in universities worldwide, where there was a surge in studying African and Latin American literatures, gender studies and ecofeminism, Third World cultural studies and anti-war literature. These academic movements challenged dominant narratives and sought to dismantle the binary systems that perpetuated inequality and totalitarianism.

Revisiting Mr. Trump’s last presidency, we see a strong leaning towards unilateralism, particularly in his immigration policies. His “America First” approach led to the implementation of several controversial measures, including the travel ban targeting predominantly Muslim countries and the construction of a border wall along the U.S.-Mexico border.

And, more recently, he has gone after the Palestinian sympathizers. Understandably, Mr. Trump’s immigration policies are deeply rooted in his nationalist and populist ideology, which emphasizes the need to protect American jobs and culture from perceived external threats. This ideology has been criticized for being discriminatory and xenophobic, with many arguing that it is a form of ultra-nationalism that borders on Nazism.

Mr. Trump’s presidency has been marked by several contentious executive orders, two of which sparked widespread debate and criticism. The first order, signed in 2017, banned immigration from several Muslim-majority countries, prompting a strong reaction from university presidents across the U.S. In a joint letter, presidents of over 50 universities urged Mr. Trump to rescind the order, arguing that it contradicted America’s long-standing tradition of embracing diversity and welcoming people from various nations and faiths. They emphasized that immigrant students have significantly contributed to the country’s growth in various fields, including technology, research, and labor.

Chill in the campus

However, a similar outcry was noticeably absent when in his second presidency, Mr. Trump signed another order that effectively targeted individuals guilty of being Palestinian sympathizers. Clearly, Mr. Trump’s policies have had a profound impact on universities and international students, particularly those who speak out against injustice and promote diversity. The crackdown on Palestinian students and voices that counter Mr. Trump’s views on Israel has created a chilling effect on campuses, with many students and faculty members fearing repercussions for speaking out. This silence is particularly concerning, as educational institutions should be promoting diversity, inclusivity, and free speech, rather than punishing those who speak out against genocide. The irony is that America has greatly benefited from immigrant contributions to its economic, intellectual, social, and cultural progress.

But Mr. Trump’s ideology has led to a surge in anti-Palestinian sentiment, with some politicians calling for the deportation of foreign students involved in pro-Palestinian protests.

This has created a culture of fear and intimidation on campuses. Many students and faculty members are hesitant to speak out against injustice, fearing that they will be targeted, harassed, or even deported. This is particularly concerning for international students, who may face visa restrictions, deportation, or other forms of retaliation for speaking out against Mr. Trump’s policies. The silencing of dissenting voices on campuses has far-reaching implications for democracy, free speech, and human rights.

Part of a narrative

Mr. Trump’s anti-immigrant discourse is not just about creating a scapegoat. It is part of a broader narrative that aims to re-establish nationalist patriotic values and targets globalization. His opposition to uncontrolled immigration is linked to his critique of globalization processes, which he sees as leading to job losses for American workers. This ideology has become a sort of new populist movement that is being embraced by right-wing movements in Europe and elsewhere.

In this context, the role of intellectuals becomes crucial in countering Mr. Trump’s brand of leadership that rejects integration with other communities and promotes a selfish, self-centered agenda. It is essential for scholars, experts, and thinkers to mobilize public opinion, challenge discriminatory policies, and advocate progressive values, thereby recognizing and taking a stand against the apartheid state engineered by Mr. Trump. As W.E.B. Du Bois asked, “If indeed what we confront is an apartheid state, then what is our responsibility as scholars and educators?” For him, universities are sanctuaries for marginalized communities, providing a forum for the public intellectual ready to speak truth to power and foster a culture of resistance and critical thinking, challenging dominant narratives, and developing pedagogies that promote social justice. Mr. Trump’s agenda to suppress radical research or mentally stress students is a form of despotism with implications that extend beyond the United States, with many regarding them as a threat to global social order and human rights.

(Shelley Walia has taught Cultural Theory at Panjab University, Chandigarh)

There is a need to establish the undeniable centrality of human rights in a rapidly changing world that is facing prejudice and fanaticism

As is commonly recognized, there are two ways in which compliance with human rights norms can be enforced. One approach is the enforcement of economic sanctions or military invasion. This is only possible in the case of powerful nations. The other strategy is through forceful condemnation which can be undertaken by non-governmental organizations or smaller nations, irrespective of their military or economic power or their lack of adequate international clout.

Though the practice of state sovereignty puts up barriers to the implementation of international human rights standards, moral pressure against the governments guilty of violating human rights sometimes succeeds in nudging them to step back. But mostly, it is seen that authoritarian regimes such as the dispensation of Vladimir Putin in Russia, Xi Jinping in China or Kim Jong-un in North Korea completely ignore the pleadings of various governments, many of whom, in reality, have their own political and economic agenda in disingenuously taking the moral high ground of an anti-war or a liberal narrative.

Impact of naming and shaming
However, Rochelle Terman, a scholar on human rights, in her recent study, The Geopolitics of Shaming: When Human Rights Pressure Works’ — and When It Backfires (Princeton 2024), places the idea of locating shaming in strategic contexts, thereby exploring the success of publicly identifying and condemning those guilty of human abuse. Naming and shaming, as well as the genuine intentions of lending full support to the victims have, in many instances, worked out positively as a deterrence to further violations.

Innumerable political occasions across the world corroborate the impact of naming and shaming in endorsing human rights accountability and reforms. Such campaigns, it was seen, resulted in exerting significant pressure on governments to improve their human rights records — as in the case of Myanmar and Ethiopia — leading to the release of political prisoners.

Similarly, in Columbia and Argentina, naming and shaming had a tangible impact on policy deviations to address human rights apprehensions. Dictators such as Augusto Pinochet of Chile, Slobodan Milošević from Serbia, Charles Taylor from Liberia, and Alberto Fujimori from Peru have been prosecuted for crimes against humanity after a worldwide censure of their tyranny was established. Across cultures, both traditional and modern, the violence against marginalized ethnic groups or LGBTQ individuals have led to augmented safeguards and appreciation of basic human rights. Campaigns against such perpetrators have visibly led to increased access to justice and reparations for victims of human rights abuses.

Though naming and shaming efforts often fail, with some guilty governments resisting or denying allegations, or making only cosmetic changes, unrelenting pressure and activism does contribute to greater culpability over time. For example, in the case of Israel, universal endorsements have had negligible impact on the leadership to comply with the demands of recognized human rights institutions which promote and monitor violations. But student agitations across the world against the genocide in Palestine or, more recently, against the dictatorship in Bangladesh are indisputably acts of dissent resulting in exerting moral pressure on the Zionist lobby or on the idea of religious nationalism that often leads to authoritarianism. Such campaigns have often led to increased international scrutiny and demands for human rights improvements. It is disheartening that many nations remain bystanders, or disallow student agitations to suit their right-wing affiliations.

Conundrum in international law
The moot question, therefore, before us is to interrogate if the strategy of using “naming and shaming” is effective. Though a powerful tool of moral pressure that puts a country such as China, Russia, Israel or Syria in the spotlight, and condemns violations and urges reform, a conundrum in international law continues to smolder. For example, when Amnesty International asks you to endorse a petition on behalf of a political dissident in China, or the United Nations issues a resolution convicting state violence in Syria, it amounts to shaming. Or when Russia is banned from participating in the Olympics, it becomes an international act of humiliating the violator. But what can such moral sanctions achieve when in many cases even military invasion or economic sanctions do not work?

Rather than merely exposing the violator on the global stage, one way out of the conundrum would be to ensure that human rights emerge from the inherent social and democratic institutions as well as from the innate national psyche. Human rights advocates must urge governments to build a bridge between power and law, concentrating steadfastly on popular appeals and democratic politics. The success of such an approach will depend on the intensity with which the illiberal forces are challenged by disallowing liberal ideas to be subverted.

Forces fighting for human rights must come to grips with the tendency to co-opt the forces of liberalism through a false rhetoric based on propaganda and deceptions used as trappings of manipulation for the furtherance of power, and buttressed by a sort of unconstitutional politics. Such a brand of hubris will stand vanquished when the impetus given to the growth of human rights and the furtherance of economic and social reforms disempowers the tyranny of the state.

Understandably, we live in a world beleaguered by prejudice and fanaticism, where authoritarian governments tyrannize their people, where free speech is denied with utmost insensitivity. The very dignity of the people is repudiated and their fundamental freedoms cramped.

The state and human rights
To restore the personal liberty of all and bring the guilty to justice within the ambit of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, becomes the responsibility of the state. Such a call for the scrutiny of the various functions and policies of the state would hasten the advent of the question of human rights to the center stage and usher in an environment of peace, tolerance and understanding. To achieve this, it is pragmatic that the state takes this task as binding and sacred. In case the state shows reluctance in patronizing the cause of human rights, any kind of resistance activism would gain in its legitimacy, especially as a process of a critical, reflective and alert defense of the general public against state persecution or indifference.

Achievements and disappointments of implementing human rights are better understood within the context of liberal modernity where a repression-free state respects human rights without any bias or partiality so that rules of equal treatment stand at the forefront of its crucial concerns. This is possible when the interests of the prevailing parties in power cohere with the question of seeking human rights as fundamental to their political ideology and a zeitgeist underpinned by a conscience of a deep-rooted moral concern. The state would, therefore, need to establish stronger institutions that keep abreast of the democratic norms of protecting basic human rights, a moral and legal position based on ideologically-centered proclamations of norms and expositions.

It is imperative, therefore, to establish the undeniable centrality of human rights amidst the ever-increasing human-rights violations in a rapidly changing world, particularly in liberal systems which help to sustain full stability through generating public welfare in an egalitarian environment. To achieve this, a consolidation of the plausible foundation for human rights, of political coalitions, institutional arrangements, and political ideologies has to be mobilized as a strategy for achieving compliance and justice through holding culprits responsible. This centrality remains absent in North Korea or China, and now in many countries with right-wing governments across the world where the success of a political system depends not on purposeful prerequisite for rights, open-minded legality, or democratic culpability, but on the authoritarian ideological state apparatus geared to attain maximum power over the people.
(The author has taught Cultural Theory at Punjab University)