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	1	+*disclaimer: parts of pt 2 may be added/changed for harvard westlake or I may break new
	2	+
	3	+Craig Santos Perez, a Chamoru scholar and poet writes:
	4	+when you take away the punctuation
	5	+he says of
	6	+lines lifted from the documents about
	7	+military-occupied land
	8	+its acreage and location
	9	+you take away its finality
	10	+opening the possibility of other futures
	11	+Part 1 – The Nation
	12	+America the proud, America the free – this nation’s hegemonic sense of national identity has insidious origins in a legacy of genocide against the indigenous people of this land – the ontological grounding of “Americanness” has been founded on this settler colonialism
	13	+Byrd ‘11 Jodi, Chickasaaw and Asst. Prof of American Indian Studies and English at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, The Transit of Empire: Indigenous Critics of Colonialism, p. xxi-xlii ***We don’t endorse ableist or gendered language.
	14	+Although critical theory has focused much attention on the role of frontiers and Manifest Destiny in the creation and rise of U.S. empire, American Indians and other indigenous peoples have often been evoked in such theorizations as past tense presences. Indians are typically spectral, implied and felt, but remain as lamentable casualties of national progress who haunt the United States on the cusp of empire and are destined to disappear with the frontier itself. Or American Indians are rendered as melancholic citizens dissatisfied with the conditions of inclusion. All too rarely outside American Indian and indigenous studies are American Indians theorized as the field through which U.S. empire became possible at all. Nor is the current multicultural settler colonialism that provides the foundation for U.S. participatory democracy understood as precisely that—the colonization of indigenous peoples and lands by force. As Kahnawake Mohawk scholar Audra Simpson has argued, “the very notion of indigenous nationhood which demarcates identity and seizes tradition in ways that maybe antagonistic to the encompassing frame of the state, may be simply unintelligible to the western and/or imperial ear.”7 From the Pacific with the illegal overthrow of the kingdom of Hawai’i to the Caribbean with Guantánamo Bay as a torture center for “enemy combatants,” I argue throughout this book that U.S. cultural and political preoccupations with indigeneity and the reproduction of 1 Through nineteenth- and early twentieth-century logics of territorial rights and conquest that have now morphed into late twentieth- and early twenty-first century logics of civil rights and late capitalism, the United States has used executive, legislative, and juridical means to make “Indian” those peoples and nations who stand in the way of U.S. military and economic desires. Activating the Indian as a foundational concept within poststructuralist, postcolonial, and critical race theories leads to one of the overarching questions of this book: How might the terms of current academic and political debates change if the responsibilities of that very real lived condition of colonialism were prioritized as a condition of possibility? My use of transit refers to a rare astronomical event, the paired transits of Venus across the sun, that served in 1761 and again in 1769 as global moments that moved European conquest toward notions of imperialist planetarity that provided the basis for Enlightenment liberalism.8 The imperial planetarity that sparked scientific rationalism and inspired humanist articulations of freedom, sovereignty, and equality touched four continents and a sea of islands in order to cohere itself. At its center were discourses of savagery, Indianness, discovery, and mapping that served to survey a world into European possession by transforming indigenous peoples into the homo nullius inhabitants of lands emptied and awaiting arrivaL As I use the term here, transit as a concept suggests the multiple subjectivities and subjugations put into motion and made to move through notions of injury, grievance, and grievability as the United States deploys a paradigmatic Indianness to facilitate its imperial desires. This paradigm of Indianness that functions as the transit of U.S. empire arises from how the United States was constituted from the start, not just in the scientific racisms and territorial mappings inaugurated through Enlightenment voyages for knowledge, but in the very constitutionality that produced the nation. When read from this perspective, brief textual moments within U.S. founding documents reveal the historical intent of a fledgling nation that pursued happiness through the acquisition of indigenous lands. Of the many grievances enumerated in the Declaration of Independence, one stands out as particularly revealing: “He . . . has endeavored to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes, and conditions.”g The non- discriminating, proto- inclusive “merciless Indian Savage” stands as the terrorist, externalized from “our frontiers,” and functions as abjected horror through whom civilization is articulated oppositionally. This non-recuperative category, a derealization of the Other, serves as a paranoid foundation for what Jasbir K. Puar defines in Terrorist Assemblages as Islamic “monster- terrorist-fags,” the affectively produced and queered West Asian (including South Asian,Arab American, and Muslim) body that is targeted for surveillance and destruction by U.S. patriotic pathology, io Just as the Declaration of Independence evokes “merciless Indian savages” upon whom the violences of invasion are abjected in the pursuit of lands, the Commerce Clause of the U.S. Constitution (Article I, Section 8, clause 3) invokes Indianness to operational ends in order to evacuate sovereignty and international recognition from any nation or peoples the United States may one day seek to invade. The clause states that Congress shall have the right “to regulate Commerce with foreign Nations, and among the several States, and with the Indian Tribes.” Supreme Court Justice John Marshall used this clause in Cherokee Nation u. Georgia (1831) to declare that, since Indian tribes were “contradistinguished” from both “foreign nations” and ccthe several states” within the clause, Indian tribes must instead be understood as “domestic dependent nations” whose relationship to the United States was that of wards “in a state of pupilage.”ii Essentially, Marshall concluded that because the Constitution delineated “Indian tribes” as a category at all, they inhabited a different space than “foreign nations” external to the United States and “the several states” internal to and subject to U.S. federalism. Marshall’s conclusion that such definitional distinctions meant that American Indian nations, despite the concrete eidence that they had entered into treaties with European nations as well as the United States as sovereigns within international law, were somehow dependent on the United States for aboriginal title reveals the larger colonialist agenda—to liberate Indians of their lives and lands. According to Lenape scholar Joanne Barker, “the entire self-fulfilling narrative of legal, moral, and social superiority offered in such claims to doctrine as Marshall’s discovery reinvented a sovereignty for indigenous peoples that was void of any of the associated rights to self- government, territorial integrity, and cultural autonomy that would have been affiliated with it in international law at the time.”12 Marshall’s juridical focus on “foreign nation,” “several states,” and “Indian tribes” as the categories for state formations internal and external to U.S. sovereignty elides the contradistinctions of with and among that delineate relationality within the commerce clause. Precisely because the clause delineates Congress’s regulatory power as “with foreign nations” and “with Indian tribes” as relational legal powers different than those “among the several states” that give Congress federal power over the states of the union, its conjunctive and prepositional logics of conquest over Indian tribes provide the United States the means to assert extraterritorial sovereignty over foreign nations as the need arises. The Commerce Clause, now interpreted as providing the United States plenary power over indigenous peoples and nations, has supplied, in the slip between with and among rather than “foreign nations” and “Indian tribes,” the rule of law through which the United States enacts its imperialist agenda. This prepositional possibility that provides the United States its imperialist historical intent is precisely how I define transit throughout this book. As the ghost in the constituting machine of empire, the paradigmatic “Indian tribe” that exists as a parallel to “foreign nation” is not an absence, but rather a sui generis presence that enables the founding of U.S. empire by creating a with that facilitates the colonialist administration of foreign nations and Indian tribes alike. In setting a precedent for U.S. empire through evocations of the doctrine of discovery, the Marshall Trilogy sets into motion the transformation of indigenous sovereign nations into “domestic dependent” nations where, according to Joanne Barker, “the erasure of the sovereign is the racialization of the ‘Indian.”13 In order to pry apart the now ascendant though contradictory paradigms of liberalism invested in transformative multiculturalism and postracial politics, my book considers the entanglement of colonization and racialization. These two processes of domination have often been conflated (making racism colonialism and vice versa) within the critiques of empire by U.S. postcolonial, comparative area, and queer studies—and for good reason. Racialization and colonization have worked simultaneously to other and abject entire peoples so they can be enslaved, excluded, removed, and killed in the name of progress and capitalism. These historical and political processes have secured white property, citizenship, and privilege, creating a “racial contract,” as Charles W. Mills argues, that orders “a world which has been foundationally shaped for the past five hundred years by the realities of European domination and the gradual consolidation of global white supremacy.”14 Racialization and colonization should thus be understood as concomitant global systems that secure white dominance through time, property, and notions of self When these two historical processes are so enmeshed that racialization in the United States now often evokes colonization as a metonym, such discursive elisions obfuscate the distinctions between the two systems of dominance and the coerced complicities amid both.i5 The generally accepted theorizations of racialization in the United States have, in the pursuit of equal rights and enfranchisements, tended to be sited along the axis of inclusion/exclusion as the affective critique of the larger project of liberal multiculturalism. When the remediation of the colonization of American Indians is framed through discourses of racialization that can be redressed by further inclusion into the nation-state, there is a significant failure to grapple with the fact that such discourses further reinscribe the original colonial injury. 16 As Kanaka Maoli scholar J. Këhaulani Kauanui, White Earth Ojibwe scholar Jean M. OBrien, and other indigenous scholars have noted, the conflation of racialization into colonization and indigeneity into racial categories dependent upon blood logics underwrites the institutions of settler colonialism when they proffer assimilation into the colonizing nation as reparation for genocide and theft of lands and nations.17 But the larger concern is that this conflation masks the territoriality of conquest by assigning colonization to the racialized body, which is then policed in its degrees from whiteness. Under this paradigm, American Indian national assertions of sovereignty, self-determination, and land rights disappear into U.S. terrioriality as indigenous identity becomes a racial identity and citizens of colonized indigenous nations become internal ethnic minorities within the colonizing nation-state. As civil rights, queer rights, and other rights struggles have often cathected liberal democracy as the best possible avenue to redress the historical violences of and exclusions from the state, scholars and activists committed to social justice have been left with impossible choices: to articulate freedom at the expense of another, to seek power and recognition in the hopes that we might avoid the syllogisms of democracy created through colonialism. Lisa Lowe provides a useful caution as she reminds us that “the affirmation of the desire for freedom is so inhabited by the forgetting of its condition of possibility that every narrative articulation of freedom is haunted by its burial, by the violence of forgetting.”18 The ethical moment before us is to comprehend “the particular loss of the intimacies of four continents, to engage slavery, genocide, indenture, and liberalism as a conjunction, as an actively acknowledged loss within the present.”19 In attempting to people the intimacies of four continents, Lowe activates the Chinese indentured laborer in the Caribbean just after Britain abolished the slave trade in 1807 as the affective entry point into “a range of connections, the global intimacies out of which emerged not only modern humanism but a modern racialized division of labor.”2o Her turn to the colonial racialized labor force in the Americas helps to reveal the degree to which intimacy—here tracked through the spheres of spatial proximity, privacy, and volatility—among Africa, Asia, and Europe in the Americas has served as the forgotten and disavowed constitutive means through which liberal humanism defines freedom, family, equality, and humanity. In fact, liberal humanism, according to Lowe, depends upon the “‘economy of affirmation and forgetting” not just of particular streams of human history, but of the loss of their geographies, histories, and subjectivities.21 In the indeterminacies between and among freedom, enslavement, indentureship, interior, and exterior, the recovered Asian contract laborer, functioning as historical site for Lowe, can reveal the processes through which liberalism asserts freedom and forgets enslavement as the condition of possibility for what constitutes “the human.” “Freedom was,” Lowe stresses, “constituted through a narrative dialectic that rested simultaneously on a spatialization of the unfree as exteriority and a temporal subsuming of enslavement as internal difference or contradiction. The ‘overcoming’ of internal contradiction resolves in freedom within the modern Western political sphere through displacement and elision of the coeval conditions of slavery and indentureship in the Americas.” 22 But what seems to me to be further disavowed, even in Lowe’s important figuration of the history of labor in “the intimacies of four continents.” is the settler colonialism that such labor underwrites. Asia, Africa, and Europe all meet in the Americas to labor over the dialectics of free and unfree, but what of the Americas themselves and the prior peoples upon whom that labor took place? Lowe includes “native peoples” in her figurations as an addendum when she writes that she hopes “to evoke the political economic logics through which men and women from Africa and Asia were forcibly transported to the Americas, who with native, mixed, and creole peoples constituted slave societies, the profits of which gave rise to bourgeois republican states in Europe and North America.”23 By positioning the conditions of slavery and indentureship in the Americas as coeval contradictions through which Western freedom affirms and resolves itself, and then by collapsing the indigenous Americas into slavery, the fourth continent of settler colonialism through which such intimacy is made to labor is not just forgotten or elided; it becomes the very ground through which the other three continents struggle intimately for freedom, justice, and equality. Within Lowe’s formulation, the native peoples of the Americas are collapsed into slavery; their only role within the disavowed intimacies of racialization is either one equivalent to that of African slaves or their ability to die so imported labor can make use of their lands. Thus, within the “intimacies of four continents,” indigenous peoples in the new world cannot, in this system, give rise to any historical agency or status within the “economy of affirmation and forgetting,” because they are the transit through which the dialectic of subject and object occurs. In many ways, then, this book argues for a critical reevaluation of the elaboration of these historical processes of oppression within postcolonial, critical race, queer, and American studies at the beginning of the twenty first century. By foundationally accepting the general premise that racialization (along with the concomitant interlocking oppressions of class, gender, and sexuality) causes the primary violences of U.S. politics in national and international arenas, multicultural liberalism has aligned itself with settler colonialism despite professing the goal to disrupt and intervene in global forms of dominance through investments in colorblind equality. Simply put, prevailing understandings of race and racialization within U.S. postcolonial, area, and queer studies depend upon an historical aphasia of the conquest of indigenous peoples. Further, these framings have forgotten, as Moreton Robinson has argued, that “the question of how anyone came to be white or black in the United States is inextricably tied to the dispossession of the original owners and the assumption of white possession.”24 Calls to social justice for U.S. racialized, sexualized, immigrant, and diasporic queer communities that include indigenous peoples, if they are not attuned to the ongoing conditions of settler colonialism of indigenous peoples, risk deeming colonialism in North America resolved, if not redressed, two cents for 100 billion dollars. Hczksuba, Cacophony, and Other Headaches Given all these difficulties, how might we place the arrivals of peoples through choice and by force into historical relationship with indigenous peoples and theorize those arrivals in ways that are legible but still attuned to the conditions of settler colonialism? These questions confront indigenous peoples still engaged in anticolonial projects of resistance. Colonialism brought the world, its peoples, and their own structures of power and hegemony to indigenous lands. Our contemporary challenge is to theorize alternative methodologies to address the problems imperialism continues to create. The conflation of racialization and colonization makes such distinctions difficult precisely because discourses of humanism, enfranchisement, and freedom are so compelling within the smooth narrative curves through which the state promises increasing liberty through pluralization. Just as Indianness serves as a transit of empire, analyses of competing oppressions reproduce colonialist discourses even when they attempt to disrupt and transform participatory democracy away from its origins in slavery, genocide, and indentureship. One reason why a “postracial” and just democratic society is a lost cause in the United States is that|||because||| it is always already conceived through the prior disavowed and misremembered colonization of indigenous lands that cannot be ended by further inclusion or more participation.25 I hope to disrupt this dilemma by placing indigenous phenomenologies into conversation with critical theory in order to identify indigenous transits and consider possible alternative strategies for legibility. One such strategy is to read the cacophonies of colonialism as they are rather than to attempt to hierarchize them into coeval or causal order. Southeastern indigenous phenomenologies understand the Middle World (the reality we all inhabk) as a bridge between Upper and Lower Worlds of creation. When the boundaries between worlds break down and the distinctive characteristics of each world begin to collapse upon and bleed into the others, possibilities for rejuvenation and destruction emerge to transform this world radically. The goal is to find balance. To understand the dualistic pairings of this dynamic system is to understand, as Cherokee scholar Daniel Heath Justice has argued,”its necessary complementarity; it is a dynamic and relational perspective, not an assumption of unitary supremacy.”26 Choctaw novelist and scholar Le Anne Howe demonstrates in her writing the ways a phenomenology that draws upon traditional Southeastern cosmologies of balance between worlds might transform written narratives and theorizations to represent the passage of time and the interactions of relationships and kinship differently
	15	+
	16	+Perhaps nowhere is this ontological grounding clearer than in the narratives we are told of our origins. College campuses and universities actively elide certain histories in favor of a dominant narrative of America the great – but American education as an institution is built on Native genocide, and curricula reflect these origins – this culminates in the ongoing social death of indigenous bodies
	17	+Tuck and Gaztambide-Fernández ’13 (Eve; Associate Professor of Critical Race and Indigenous Studies at the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education (OISE), University of Toronto; Ruben, Assistant Professor in the Department of Curriculum, Teaching and Learning at the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education of the University of Toronto, “Curriculum, Replacement, and Settler Futurity,” Journal of Curriculum Theorizing, Volume 29, Number 1, 2013, http://journal.jctonline.org/index.php/jct/article/view/411/pdf, accessed 10/7/16)
	18	+Settler colonialism is the specific formation of colonialism in which the colonizer comes to stay, making himself the sovereign, and the arbiter of citizenship, civility, and knowing. Patrick Wolfe (2006) argues that settler colonialism "destroys to replace," (p. 338) operating with a logic of elimination. "Whatever settlers may say-and they generally have a lot to say," Wolfe observes, "the primary motive for elimination is not race (or religion, ethnicity, grade of civilization, etc.) but access to territory" (ibid., parentheses original). The logic of elimination is embedded into every aspect of the settler colonial structures and its disciplines-it is in their DNA, in a manner of speaking. Indeed invasion is a structure, not an event (p. 402). The violence of invasion is not contained to first contact or the unfortunate birthpangs of a new nation, but is reasserted each day of occupation. Thus, when we write about settler colonialism in this article, we are writing about it as both an historical and contemporary matrix of relations and conditions that define life in the settler colonial nation-state, such as the United States, Canada, New Zealand, Australia, Israel, South Africa, Chinese Tibet, and others. In North America, settler colonialism operates through a triad of relationships, between the (white but not always) settlers, the Indigenous inhabitants, and chattel slaves who are removed from their homelands to work stolen land. At the crux of these relationships is land, highly valued and disputed. For settlers to live on and profit from land, they must eliminate Indigenous peoples, and extinguish their historical, epistemological, philosophical, moral and political claims to land. Land, in being settled, becomes property. Settlers must also import chattel slaves, who must be kept landless, and who also become property, to be used, abused, and managed. Several belief systems need to be in place to justify the destruction of Indigenous life and the enslavement of life from other lands, in particular the continent of Africa. These belief systems are constituted through "what Michel Foucault identifies as the 'invention of Man': that is, by the Renaissance humanists' epochal redescription of the human outside the terms of the then theocentric, 'sinful by nature' conception/'descriptive statement' of the human" (Wynter, 2003, p. 263). These include what was termed in the 19th century "manifest destiny"-or the expansion of the settler state as afforded by God; heteropaternalism-the assumption that heteropatriarchal nuclear domestic arrangements are the building block of the state and institutions; and most of all, white supremacy. Settler colonialism requires the construction of non-white peoples as less than or not-quite civilized, an earlier expression of human civilization, and makes whiteness and white subjectivity both superior and normal (Wynter, 2003). In doing so, whiteness and settler status are made invisible, only seen when threatened (see also Tuck and Yang, 2012). Settler colonialism is typified by its practiced epistemological refusal to recognize the latent relations of the settler colonial triad; the covering of its tracks. One of the ways the settler-colonial state manages this covering is through the circulation of its creation story. These stories involve signs-turned mythologies that conceal the teleology of violence and domination that characterize settlement (Donald, 2012a, 2012b). For example, Dwayne Donald examines the centrality of the "Fort on Frontier" as a signifier for the myth of civilization and modernity in the creation story of the Canadian nation-state. The image of the fort works as "a mythic sign that initiates, substantiates and, through its density, hides the teleological story of the development of the nation" (2012a, p. 43): Fort pedagogy works according to an insistence that everyone must be brought inside and become like the insiders, or they will be eliminated. The fort teaches us that outsiders must be either incorporated, or excluded, in order for development to occur in the desired ways. (2012a, p. 44) The fort is not simply about the process of colonization-of the exogenous conquering of land and people, but more importantly, about a process of colonial settlement-of imposing a hegemonic logic from the inside, "premised on the domination of a majority that has become indigenous" (Veracini, 2010, p. 5, emphasis added). As Donald (2012b) explains, "transplanting a four-cornered version of European development into the heart of the wilderness" (p. 95), the fort stands as a signifier "of the process by which wild and underutilized lands were civilized through European exploration, takeover, and settlement" (p. 99). Scholars like John Willinsky (1998) have offered ample evidence of the ways in which schooling has served the purpose of promoting an imperialist view of the world that justifies colonization premised on European epistemological supremacy. While he provides a powerful critique of the colonizing force of the North American curriculum, such analyses stop short of examining how the project of curriculum is implied in the ongoing project of colonial settlement, assuming that settler colonies are a thing of the past. Recognizing that colonization is an ongoing process, there have been many postcolonial conceptualizations of curriculum and curriculum history (e.g. Asher, 2005; Coloma; 2009; McCarthy, 1998). Yet such conceptualizations typically ignore important differences in the various kinds of colonial processes occurring in the contemporary world. Because it is different from other forms of colonialism in ways that matter, settler colonialism requires more than a postcolonial theory of decolonization. Indeed, "decolonization in a settler context is fraught because empire, settlement, and internal colony have no spatial separation" (Tuck and Yang, 2012, p. 7). In this light, the specific contours of settler colonialism in curriculum studies are as yet undertheorized, particularly its continued role in ensuring what we describe later in this article as settler futurity. This essay takes part in this conversation by theorizing what we call the curriculum project of replacement. The Curriculum Project of Replacement The historical work of curriculum scholars like Douglas McKnight (2003), William Watkins (2001), John Willinsky (1998), and Annie Winfield (2007), among others, demonstrate that from its inception and to the present day, the project of schooling in the US and Canada has been a white supremacist project. More specifically, McKnight (2003) and Willinsky (1998) demonstrate how the project of schooling has been historically premised, first and foremost, on maintaining symbolic logics through which to justify the theft and occupation of Indigenous land. Their work points to the ways in which schools were instruments of settlement, as evidenced in the important role they played in what McKnight describes as the "jeremiad" of colonial Puritans who sought to establish a Utopian society. McKnight (2003) argues that this jeremiad cannot be dismissed simply as the pursuit of godly experience, as educational historians often do, but must be understood as the initial inscription of a "sacred/secular symbolic narrative sending American on an 'errand into the wilderness' to become a 'city upon a hill.' This narrative provided a national identity of sorts, a corporate historical teleology in which America would fulfill the role of New Israel" (pp. 2-3). Similar to the role of the fort in the Canadian imaginary (Donald, 2012a, 2012b), the jeremiad of the "errand into the wilderness," as described by McKnight (2003), continues to play a key symbolic role in the American fantasy as "leader of the free world" along with its perpetual exasperation with the moral failing of its own citizens. The critical role of schooling in the project of settler colonialism is further evidenced during the expansion of the "chartered academics" throughout the 17th and 18th century, when small schools were established in local communities, mostly by settler merchants (Beadie and Tolley, 2002). It is also manifest in the establishment of Indian schools within the context of what eventually became elite Universities, such as Harvard and Deerfield, and perhaps most perversely implemented in the Indian Boarding Schools, where assimilationist projects to "kill the indian, save the man" involved widespread violence and abuse and ultimately served as models for the Nazi genocide (Toland, 2002). Intimately linked to schools, the field of curriculum studies has played a significant role in the maintenance of maintains settler colonialism. Early curriculum scholars conceived of educational projects through logics of replacement in which the settler ultimately comes to replace the Native. We trace this early preoccupation with replacement in order to mount a critique of the foundations of curriculum studies and to point out how these foundational preoccupations manifest in contemporary struggles over how to approach curriculum studies in ways that make interventions unlikely. The replacement narrative is evidenced in the work of most of the early curriculum thinkers who are often placed within the pantheon of curriculum studies. Horace Mann, for instance, enacted a replacement narrative when he described the "Pilgrim Fathers" as facing "the terrors of a wintry clime, an inhospitable shore, and a savage foe, that they might find a spot, where, unmolested, they could worship God" (1867, p. 32, italics added). In Mann's conceptualization, it was the responsibility of the school to ensure that all citizens valued the "sacrifices" made by these "Pilgrim Fathers" and the rights gained through their struggles to gain this "spot" or place. For Mann, the "struggles" of the settlers for the creation of the state are to be celebrated and reenacted through the project of schooling for the creation of a national subject; and this includes the defeat of anyone who stands in the way. For John Franklin Bobbitt (1918), recognizing the struggles and sacrifices of settlers meant that the curriculum should include a re-enactment of war: For this reason, let youth continue to refight the colonial wars, the Revolutionary War, and the later wars with England, Spain, Mexico, and the Indian Tribes. Let the accounts of these fights be so presented that youth can refight them in that spirited, intense, and whole-hearted way that is congenial to its hot blood; and which is necessary for firing the enthusiasms of youth and for indissolubly fusing the individual into conscious and acquiescent membership in the national group. The "man without a country" is the man who has never fought with his group for his group, (p. 136) In Bobbitt's account, "the disappearance of American Indians of North America" was not caused by "guns, but before the diseases of the white invaders," and it was their lack of education and inability to efficiently address disease that caused their presumed disappearance. Yet the vanished Indian remains as a mythic presence in the imagination of the curriculum, not as an active presence, but as an illustration of what the settler must overcome. Similarly, in his essay "The Aim of History in Elementary Education," John Dewey justified "the worth of the study of savage life in general, and of the North American Indians in particular," only insofar as "the life of the Indian presents some permanent questions and factors in social life" (1915, p. 160). Thomas Fallace (2010) notes that particularly in his early works on education, Dewey embraced ethnocentric conceptions of race and culture based on linear historicist and genetic psychological terms that construed non-white groups as representing early stages of human development. Although Fallance notes that in his later work Dewey moved toward a more relativist and pluralist stance, he observes that most of his enduring ideas-and the ones that are most often cited by contemporary scholars-are premised on an assimilationist project that viewed non-white groups as having the potential of moving toward civilization. Throughout the first half of the twentieth century, the view that all non-white cultures represented earlier stages of development akin to childhood was expressed by all curriculum thinkers, progressive and technocratic alike (Fallace, 2012). Recapitulation theory proposed that individual development followed the stages of the development of the species, with European civilization representing the full maturation of an adult. While some early scholars believed that blacks and Indians were incapable for being civilized, the dominant view was that schooling could provide the necessary curriculum to civilize these representations of earlier forms of human life, which meant to make them more like their white teachers. According to Kliebard's (2004) historical accounts, in the 1900s: The prevailing rationale at ... educational institutions designed for blacks and Native Americans was that while those races were not inherently inferior, they were in an earlier stage of development than the white race. By designing the program of studies so as to introduce the more advanced white social institutions and social practices to the less advanced races, their progress toward a state of civilization could be speeded up. (p. 107) If recapitulation provided a rationale for a curricular project of complete assimilation, eugenics provided a rationale for complete annihilation. Whether it was the social efficiency movement, legal segregation in the schools of the Jim Crow south, or the maddening use of testing for measuring and sorting individuals, the goal of producing a "perfect" human being has been at the heart of curriculum projects throughout the history of the U.S. (Winfield, 2007). The future of the white race, as imagined by eugenicists, required the elimination of lesser humans and the refinement of the cultural attributes that define the white subject, whose manifest destiny it to take the place of the savage in the promised land. Replacement. Patrick Wolfe (2006) observes that settler colonialism's logic of elimination requires the removal of Indigenous peoples of a territory, "but not just in any particular way" (p. 402): by any means necessary. This includes not only homicide, but also state-sanctioned miscegenation, the issuing of individual land titles, native citizenship, child abduction, religious conversion, reprogramming (via missions or boarding schools), and myriad forms of assimilation; again "settler colonialism destroys to replace" (p. 388). It is this preoccupation with replacement to which we attend in this article. Lorenzo Veracini (2011) observes that within settler colonialism, settlers and the settler-state must continuously disavow the existence and presence of Indigenous peoples and Indigenous accounts and histories of land. For the settler, the recalcitrant continued presence of Indigenous peoples and the descendants of chattel slaves is disturbing, is disrupting. The settler-state is always already in a precarious position because Indigenous peoples and descendants of chattel slaves won't do what they are supposed to do, fade away into history by either disappearing or becoming more like the settler, the true description of the human. If they/we won't fade away into history, then the whole ugly business of the founding of the settler-state can't be surpassed, can't be forgotten. Settler coloniality is typified by a "persistent drive to ultimately supersede the conditions of its operation," in order to "cover its tracks," and "effectively repress, co-opt, and extinguish indigenous alterities, and productively manage ethnic diversity" (ibid., p. 3). All of this elaborate track-covering is needed to achieve the settler's ultimate aim, which is to resolve the uncomfortable and precarious dis-location as usurper, and replace the Indigenous people as the natural, historical, rightful and righteous owners of the land. In the United States, the Natty Bumppo narrative in Cooper's Leather stocking Tales (1823-1841) is foundational to a national curriculum of replacement. James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851) was the son of a man who settled on Six Nations land, naming Cooperstown, New York, after himself. Cooper's five Leather stocking Tales are part of the foundation of what was then and is now understood as American Literature, and are filled with the idyllic streams, forests, hills, and lakes of the Iroquois land his family grabbed and settled. Called by Herman Melville "our national author," Cooper's books were the most widely read of the time, heavily circulated due to the newly more available technology of the printing press. Books like Cooper's helped to forge the national identity of the United States, and did so by tapping into and enlarging settlers' imaginations of the vanishing Indian, the innovative Frontiersman, and the ill-fated Negro, the very cast of characters which animate settler colonialism, and much of American literature (see also Tuck and Yang, 2012). The most famous of the five volumes is The Last of the Mohicans, required reading in many US public school systems, an enduring go-to narrative in popular culture. It is the source from which no less than three television series, a theater production, an opera, a radio show, and eleven films have been made. In K. Wayne Yang's words, "The Last of the Mohicans is a national narrative that has never stopped being made" (Tuck and Yang, 2012, p. 15). Natty Bumppo's story is told across all five books, becoming the adopted son of Chingachgook, the fictional chief of the fictional "Mohicans," who renames Nathaniel Bumppo "Hawkeye," an act that satisfies the ultimate adoption fantasies of the settler. Chingachgook bestows Bumppo-now-Hawkeye, the responsibility for his son Uncas, who becomes a great leader, but is killed by another Indian in battle, ironically defending his love for Cora, the white daughter of a British commander. Hawkeye avenged the death of Uncas, but the elder Chingachgook is left to age into extinction (another settler fantasy) and the message is clear;2 Bumppo-now-Hawkeye might, no, must replace the Mohicans, and carry on their knowledge and their claims to the land. The reader is meant to infer that Bumppo-now-Hawkeye had really been more Mohican in his actions than most Mohicans had been anyway, so his replacement was an improvement on things, truly. A completion. Indeed, as Claudia Alonso Recarte argues, "it was not rare for readers of Mohicans to interpret Natty Bumppo as a man who had absorbed and imitated the ways of the wilderness to such an extent that he had become superior to his environment" (2010, p. 37). As final extension of the allegory, it is important to remember that the Leather stocking Tales were published at the height of Jackson's Indian Removal Act of 1830, and throughout the resulting Trail of Tears (1831-1837). Twenty-five million acres of land were cleared through the forced removal of more than 46,000 Native people. The Leatherstocking Tales ignore this contemporaneous reality while imagining the Indian as already vanished, as already dead (Tuck and Yang, 2012). We share this account as an allegory for what we call the settler colonial curricular project of replacement, which is intent on relieving the inherent anxiety of settler dislocation from stolen land. The anchoring themes of hybridity, extinction, inheritance, and whiteness that is more Indian (i.e. more deserving of the land) than Indians from Cooper's tales are the vertebrae of the ideological justification for the dispossession of Indigenous peoples and Black and brown peoples: ignoring that they may have an a priori claim to land, or a claim derived from reparation, in favor of the fully arrogant and self-serving notion that "'we' could use the land better than they could," (Wolfe, 2006, p. 389). Mapped onto the curri cular project of replacement, the allegory of Natty Bumppo-as curriculum- highlights the distraction offered by the pursuit of replacement, away from settler complicity in the erasure of Indigenous people toward fantasies of the extinct or becoming-extinct Indian as natural, forgone, inevitable, indeed, evolutionary. And it is in this way that the Indian appears in the early texts of curriculum theorizing, from Spencer (1867), through both Bobbitt (1918) and Dewey (1915), to the absence and enclosed presences in contemporary curriculum documents (Anderson, 2012; Richardson, 2011). Through an in-depth analysis of recent curriculum documents in two states with contrasting approaches to the teaching of history, Carl Anderson (2012) demonstrates the persistence of the narratives of disappearance that continually center white settler subjectivity. Regardless of whether history is approached through a transmission or a constructivist model, Anderson shows how settler futurity is ensured through an understanding of Native-European relations as a thing of the past, and the inclusion of Native history as a past upon which a white future is ensured. Likewise, Troy Richardson (2011) offers a critique of cotemporary "culture-based" models, such a multicultural education and culturally responsive pedagogy, that seek to "include" Indigenous epistemologies which have the effect of enclosing and containing the possibility of an Indigenous future. Both Anderson (2012) and Richardson (2011) demonstrate that contemporary progressive and critical approaches to curriculum act through the same "Fort on Frontier" mythology (Donald, 2012a) and the same "errand into the wilderness" Puritan jeremiad that ensure replacement and settler futurity.
	19	+This is not simply in historic writings within the ivory tower – college campuses actively crack down on anti-colonialist speech
	20	+Khan 15, Tariq. "Masking Oppression As “Free Speech”: An Anarchist Take." Agency. October 28, 2015. Web. December 08, 2016. http://www.anarchistagency.com/commentary/masking-oppression-as-free-speech-an- anarchist-take/. *bracketed for clarity
	21	+
	22	+In the present-day United States, a shallow idea of “free speech” is often wielded by the privileged as a way to direct attention away from critiques of existing conditions and systems; particularly critiques of capitalism, imperialism, white supremacy, and patriarchy. For example, two years ago when UC Berkeley students organized to keep comedian Bill Maher from speaking on their campus, leading media outlets framed it as a controversy about free speech rather than engaging with the much deeper critiques the students had about Maher’s perpetuation of since he was an imperialist, Orientalist discourse which fuels militarism abroad and racist violence at home. Yet, while students who protest imperialist discourse are characterized as a threat to free speech, the actual threat to free speech in academia goes unchallenged by leading media outlets. October 8, 2015, at the Community College of Philadelphia, English professor Divya Nair spoke at a rally organized by students in protest of police recruiters on campus. The students and Professor Nair drew connections between colonialism and modern US policing; particularly the police tactic of recruiting poor people of color to act as the capitalist state’s foot- soldiers to control poor Black and Brown communities. Later that day, school authorities suspended Professor Nair without pay, and they have since suspended three student group members who are facing disciplinary hearings. In the past few years there has been a noticeable campus crackdown on anti-colonialist expression.
	23	+These ideas, when underpinning college campuses and higher education specifically, multiply ongoing colonial processes at home and abroad
	24	+Chatterjee and Maira 14 (Piya Chatterjee, PhD, associate professor of women’s studies at UC Riverside, Sunaina Maira, professor of Asian American studies at UC Davis, 2014, “The Imperial University: Race, War, and the Nation State,” pp 11-13) gz
	25	+While the heightened patriotism in the wake of 9/11 and a decade of U.S. wars and occupation overseas have amplified the role of the academy in shaping our understanding of U.S. global dominance and simultaneously intensified attacks on “anti-American” views—particularly in relation to the Middle East and to Islam—there is nothing “new” about this state of emergency. Ongoing debates about the role of the imperial university are indicative of the “state of exception”; that is, the exclusion of some from liberal democracy and eviction from political rights is not a sudden break but is constitutive of the imperial state and the state of permanent war.12 The notion of the “imperial university” suggests that the War on Terror and the post-9/11 culture wars made hypervisible the persistent role of higher education in shaping the discourses of nationalism, patriotism, citizenship, and democracy. This is a key premise of our framework and one that underlies many of the chapters here. Indeed, in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, Lynne Cheney and Joseph Lieberman’s American Council of Trustees and Alumni (ACTA) and other neoconservative groups sounded a clarion call for an intensified scrutiny of scholarship that challenged U.S. dominance.13 These campaigns underscored the frontlines of the culture wars through robust deployment of notions of patriotism and national security considered key to defending “Western civilization” in a nation presumably facing an existential threat. Animating this powerful sense of danger to U.S. dominance are specific kinds of “anti-American” scholarship and the dangerous knowledges they impart. Furthermore, the specter unleashed by unruly student protestors and the repression that they elicit can be viewed as one important aspect of this end game of cultural and imperial supremacy—and its pepper spraying and paranoias. The post-9/11 policing of knowledge and the neoliberal restructuring of the university create pressure points that reveal the forces of political imperialism and the economic matrix within which they are embedded, as argued by Godrej and Prashad, among others. This is a matrix that is historically formed: an imperial “knowledge complex” is fed by the profitable business of militarism, incarceration, and war. A decade after 9/11, the crises of late capitalism in the global North (and the dismantling of public education) unravel the “safety nets” for many university students and employees; this is a process that Gumbs points out has a much longer genealogy that is intertwined with the racial management of populations within and beyond the campus. The “downsizing” of the university unmasks an ideological “precarity” even for critically engaged tenured or tenure-track faculty, among the most elite and “protected” of academic workers, as suggested by Pulido’s reflection on tenure battles in an elite, private institution. In fact, Oparah points out that private, liberal arts institutions are crucial to the corporate logics of the “global knowledge marketplace,” so that the neoliberal restructuring of the public university is clearly at work at private institutions as well, as wittily observed in Prashad’s account of his own college. Furthermore, Oparah argues that liberal arts colleges provide the corporate sector and the military-prison- industrial complex with “moral capital” precisely because of their supposed liberalism. As Prashad’s analysis suggests, the crises of “academic freedom” or student debt allow us to dig more deeply into the ways in which neoliberal practices and their geopolitics intersect—and how this informs the consolidation of the corporate university. The bursts of dissent (both within scholarly production and in student protests and the Occupy movement) suggest that “business as usual” is being disrupted in the U.S. university. However, this dissent—and the modes of repression it provokes—begs the question of what sustains “business as usual.” Our introductory vignette, juxtaposing the bucolic green of a “peaceful” campus with the performance of militarized power, offers our unease with the normalized terms of “peace” in our elysian surroundings, not to mention with the complicity of the U.S. state with military occupations elsewhere and the lockdown on open critique of particular foreign states. The police in riot gear do not signal something exceptional; rather, their presence unmasks the codes of “the normal” in academic discourse and practice. It is a normalization that we see routinely in the grants that we are encouraged to apply for and in Department of Defense funding that many scientists, social scientists, and technologists receive for their research, as discussed in Roberto González’s chapter. The capital provided by these grants has built the foundations of some of the most powerful and preeminent universities in the world: MIT, Stanford, UC Berkeley, California Institute of Technology (Caltech), and many others. The alliance between military research and science, which is well known, builds the deepest strata of connection and complicity between imperial statecraft and the knowledge complex of the U.S. academy. This, also, is nothing new, as González and Oparah demonstrate in analyzing the historical, global economies within which U.S. intelligence and prison systems enact violent logics of incapacitation and counterinsurgency.
	26	+Thus, in response to the settler colonialism imbued within the resolution and this educational space, I advocate for free speech.
	27	+Part 2 – The University
	28	+The role of the ballot is to vote for the debater that best deconstructs colonialism. Its dominance in educational spaces makes every site of opposition key – educators have an obligation to reframe these mindsets – every instance, such as your endorsement in this debate, is crucial to this ongoing effort
	29	+Berry 11
	30	+
	31	+Berry 11 Sara, Professor of History at the Center of Africana Studies at Johns Hopkins University, “Deconstructing a Curriculum of Dominance”, http://ojs.library.ubc.ca/index.php/tci/article/viewFile/183650/183640
	32	+Therefore, in this article we write collaboratively toward deconstructing how we might redress such present absences in the curriculum through our current occupations, research, and intellectual studies as a Canadian curriculum theory project. As Ng-A-Fook (2007, 2009) suggests elsewhere such deconstructive work involves tracing genealogies, and uncovering the contextual political and historical layers from which certain narratives emerge, are promised, and made possible through the stories and respective national mythologies we tell one another in schools and its respective curricula. The province of Ontario, albeit not globally alone, continues to invest in narrative capital which attempts to reproduce standardized subjects, with a common curriculum, and thus disseminate its empire through ideological apparatuses—juridical, educational, medical, religious, etc.—which makes the subject of deconstruction, and the deconstruction of a curriculum of dominance all the more pressing today. Such curriculum of neo/colonial dominance—history textbooks, curriculum policies, popular films, and so on—continues to work here in Ontario to create myths about the Aboriginal and non Aboriginal creation stories we tell (or don’t tell) each other. Moreover, such creation stories as Donald (in-press) makes clear, work to represent the beliefs Canadian citizens hold regarding the narrative genesis of our nation-state. In turn, the stories we (don’t) tell each other through the public school curriculum about the birth of our country, as Donald writes, have a significant impact on the institutional, political, and cultural character of the country, as well as the narrative preoccupations of its future citizens. Donald (2009) theorizes that Canadian institutions perpetuate the colonial establishment of the fort. “Universities and schools,” Donald suggests, “are predicated on colonial frontier logics and have both served to enforce epistemological and social conformity to Euro-western standards” (p. 4). Therefore educational institutions re/imagined as academic forts helps us to better understand how they create and perpetuate certain inherent institutional barricades that in turn obstruct the engagement of Aboriginal learners (or international students) and contributes to the violent pedagogical and epistemic curricular reproductions of exclusion and displacement. According to Donald, the symbol of the fort perpetuates a colonial frontier logic that forces some individuals to remain outside the walls of Canadian institutions. Often when ‘outsiders’ attempt to enter such institutions (forts), they are asked or even forced to give up their way of life and in turn reconstruct their subjectivity as a curriculum of radical hope (Lear, 2008). Therefore educational forts, like residential schools, represented (at least for the colonial governments) the pinnacle of ‘civilization’ and ‘progress’ set up to bring a benevolent curriculum of civilization to the ‘uncivilized outsiders.’
	33	+This particularly fits your role as an educator – while you can’t implement policies, your ballot serves to inculcate disruptive norms of communication and scholarship that reverberate beyond the insularity of this academic space and links learning to justice
	34	+GIROUX 04 Giroux, Henry “Critical Pedagogy and the Postmodern/Modern Divide: Towards a Pedagogy of Democratization” 2004 Teacher Education Quarterly. Professor at Penn state
	35	+
	36	+An oppositional cultural politics can take many forms, but given the current assault by neoliberalism on all aspects of democratic public life, it seems is imperative that educators revitalise the struggles to create conditions in which learning would be linked to social change in a wide variety of social sites, and pedagogy would take on the task of regenerateing both a renewed sense of social and political agency and a critical subversion of dominant power itself. Under such circumstances, agency becomes the site through which power is not transcended but reworked, replayed, and restaged in productive ways. Central to my argument is the assumption that politics is not only about power, but it also, as Cornelius Castoriadis (1996) points out, “has to do with political judgements and value choices” (p.8), indicating that questions of civic education and critical pedagogy (learning how to become a skilled citizen) are central to the struggle over political agency and democracy. In this instance, critical pedagogy emphasizes critical reflexivity, bridging the gap between learning and everyday life, understanding the connection between power and knowledge, and extending democratic rights andidentities by using the resources of history. However, among many educators and social theorists, there is awidespread refusal to recognize that this form of education is not only the foundation for expanding and enabling political agency, but it also takes place across a wide variety of public spheres mediated through the very force of culture itself. One of the central tasks of any viable critical pedagogy would be to make visible alternative models of radical democratic relations in a wide variety of sites. These spaces can make the pedagogical more political by raising fundamental questions such as: What is the relationship between social justice and the distribution of public resources and goods? What are the conditions, knowledge and skills that are a prerequisite for political agency and social change? At the very least, such a project involves understanding and critically engaging dominant public transcripts and values within a broader set of historical and institutional contexts. Making the political more pedagogical in this instance suggests producing modes of knowledge and social practices that not only affirm oppositional cultural work, but offer opportunities to mobilize instances of collective outrage, if not collective action. Such mobilisation opposes glaring material inequities and the growing cynical belief that today’s culture of investment and finance makes it impossible to address many ofthe major social problems facing boththe U.S. andthelarger world. Most importantly, such work points to the link between civic education, critical pedagogy, and modes of oppositional political agency that are pivotal to elucidating a politics that promotes autonomy and social change. At the very least, critical pedagogy proposes that education is a form of political intervention in the world that is capable of creating the possibilities for social transformation. Rather than viewing teaching as technical practice, radical pedagogy in the broadest terms is a moral and political practice premised on the assumption that learning is not about processing received knowledge but actually transforming it as part of a more expansive struggle for individual rights and social justice. This implies that any viable notion of pedagogy and resistance should illustrate how knowledge, values, desire, and social relations are always implicated in relations of power, and how such an understanding can be used pedagogically and politically by students to further expand and deepen the imperatives of economic and political democracy. The fundamental challenge facing educators within the current age of neoliberalism is to provide the conditions for students to address how knowledge is related to the power of both self-definition and social agency. Central to such a challenge is providing students with the skills, knowledge, and authority they need to inquire and act upon what it means to live in a substantive democracy, to recognize anti-democratic forms of power, and to fight deeply rooted injustices in a society and world founded on systemic economic, racial, and gendered inequalities.

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