Summary

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  • Caselist.CitesClass[19]
  • Caselist.CitesClass[20]

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1		-2016-11-19 22:26:04.978
	1	+2016-11-19 22:26:04.0

Caselist.CitesClass[20]

Cites

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	1	+Analytic
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	3	+The scholarship of the 1AC is flawed in its representation of Queer bodies as damaged. The over-saturated narratives are focused on delineating the suffering of marginalized peoples thus reproducing colonialism
	4	+Tuck and Yang, 4 (Eve Tuck (Asst. Prof. Educational Foundations and Coordinator of Native American Studies @ State Univ. of New York) and K.W. Yang (Asst. Prof. Ethnic Studies; Ph.D., 2004, Social and Cultural Studies @ Univ. California, Berkeley) ”R-words: Refusing research,” http://outreach.oregonstate.edu/sites/default/files/r-words.pdf)//JA
	5	+Elsewhere, Eve (Tuck, 2009, 2010) has argued that educational research and much of social science research has been concerned with documenting damage, or empirically substantiating the oppression and pain of Native communities, urban communities, and other disenfranchised communities. Damage-centered researchers may operate, even benevolently, within a theory of change in which harm must be recorded or proven in order to convince an outside adjudicator that reparations are deserved. These reparations presumably take the form of additional resources, settlements, affirmative actions, and other material, political, and sovereign adjustments. Eve has described this theory of change as is both colonial and flawed, because it relies upon Western notions of power as scarce and concentrated, and because it requires disenfranchised communities to position themselves as both singularly defective and powerless to make change (2010). Finally, Eve has observed that “won” reparations rarely become reality, and that in many cases, communities are left with a narrative that tells them that they are broken. Similarly, at the center of the analysis in this chapter this is a concern with the fixation social science research has exhibited in eliciting pain stories from communities that are not White, not wealthy, and not straight. Academe’s this demonstrated fascination with telling and retelling narratives of pain is troubling, both for its voyeurism and for its consumptive implacability. Imagining “itself to be a voice, and in some disciplinary iterations, the voice of the colonized” (Simpson, 2007, p. 67, emphasis in the original) is not just a rare historical occurrence in anthropology and related fields. We observe that much of the work of the academy is to stories of oppression in its own voice. At first, this may read as an intolerant condemnation of the academy, one that refuses to forgive past blunders and see how things have changed in recent decades. However, it is our view that while many individual scholars have chosen to pursue other lines of inquiry than the pain narratives typical of their disciplines, novice researchers emerge from doctoral programs eager to launch pain-based inquiry projects because they believe that such approaches embody what it means to do social science. The collection of pain narratives and the theories of change that champion the value of such narratives are so prevalent in the social sciences that one might surmise that they are indeed what the academy is about. In her examination of the symbolic violence of the academy, Bell Hooks (1990) portrays the core message from the academy to those on the margins as thus: No need to hear your voice when I can talk about you better than you can speak about yourself. No need to hear your voice. Only tell me about your pain. I want to know your story. And then I will tell it back to you in a new way. Tell it back to you in such a way that it has become mine, my own. Re-writing you I write myself anew. I am still author, authority. I am still colonizer the speaking subject and you are now at the center of my talk. (p. 343) Hooks’s words resonate with our observation of how much of social science research is concerned with providing recognition to the presumed voiceless, a recognition that is enamored with knowing through pain. Further, this passage describes the ways in which the researcher’s voice is constituted by, legitimated by, animated by the voices on the margins. The researcher-self is made anew by telling back the story of the marginalized/subaltern subject. Hooks works to untangle the almost imperceptible differences between forces that silence and forces that seemingly liberate by inviting those on the margins to speak, to tell their stories. Yet the forces that invite those on the margins to speak also say, “Do not speak in a voice of resistance. Only speak from that space in the margin that is a sign of deprivation, a wound, an unfulfilled longing. Only speak your pain” (hooks, 1990, p. 343).
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	8	+After the research team leaves, after the news cameras have gone away, all we are left with is the damage. The portrayal of social groups as damaged serves as an advertisement for colonial violence-turns case, the aff harms those it tries to help
	9	+Tuck, 9 (Eve Tuck (Asst. Prof. Educational Foundations and Coordinator of Native American Studies @ State Univ. of New York). “Suspending Damage: A Letter to Communities,” Harvard Educational Review 79.3 (Fall 2009), http://pages.ucsd.edu/~rfrank/class_web/ES-114A/Week204/TuckHEdR79-3.pdf)//JA
	10	+ Some scholars have built their careers around producing damage narratives of tribalized and detribalized peoples. Though it is no longer in fashion to frame research as “the problem with (insert tribe or urban community here)” as it was in past generations, the legacy of this approach is alive and well. (See also Harvey 1999 on “civilized oppression.”) Native communities, poor communities, communities of color, and disenfranchised communities tolerate this kind of data gathering because there is an implicit and sometimes explicit assurance that stories of damage pay off in material, sovereign, and political wins. Many communities engage, allow, and participate in damage-centered research and in the construction of damage narratives as a strategy for correcting oppression. However, I worry that the theory of change itself may be unreliable and ineffective. It is a powerful idea to think of all of us as litigators, putting the world on trial, but does it actually work? Do the material and political wins come through? And, most importantly, are the wins worth the long-term costs of thinking of ourselves as damaged? To offer a counterstory, my friend and Indigenous scholar Sandy Grande (personal communication, April 2008) shared with me that some of the narratives I would categorize as damage centered, she would categorize as stories of colonization; the after-effects and the colonizing are inextricably linked. Earlier, Grande (2004) wrote: The “Indian Problem” is not a problem of children and families but rather, first and foremost, a problem that has been consciously and historically produced by and through the systems of colonization: a multidimensional force underwritten by Western Christianity, defined by White supremacy, and fueled by global capitalism. (p. 19) Contemporary damage-centered narratives (of abuse, addiction, poverty, illness) in the United States can be directly tied to 400-plus years of occupation of Native lands, genocide, and colonization. Like Sandy, I can’t help but hear these stories within the context of this history, but I suspect that for many people, Native and non-Native, this context has been made invisible and natural. As in African American communities that have been coarsely expected to have “gotten over slavery by now,” Native American and First Alaskan communities are expected to have gotten over the past, which is reduced to the unfortunate birth pangs of a new nation, thus dismissing the very real and ongoing colonization of these communities to the corners of our imaginations (Tuck and Fine, 2007). Although, as I have noted, damage-centered research involves social and historical contexts at the outset, the significance of these contexts is regularly submerged. Without the context of racism and colonization, all we’re left with is the damage, and this makes our stories vulnerable to pathologizing analyses (Kelley, 1997). Our evidence of ongoing colonization by research—absent a context in which we acknowledge that colonization—is relegated to our own bodies, our own families, our own social networks, our own leadership. After the research team leaves, after the town meeting, after the news cameras have gone away, all we are left with is the damage. I want to recognize that, particularly in Native communities, there was a need for research that exposed the uninhabitable, inhumane conditions in which people lived and continue to live. My ability to articulate this critique is due to the lessons and accomplishments that have been made on the backs of prior generations of communities and researchers. I have boundless respect for the elders who paved the way for respectful, mutually beneficial research in Indigenous communities. I appreciate that, in many ways, there was a time and place for damage-centered research. However, in talking with some of these elders, they agree that a time for a shift has come, that sufficient. We are in a new historical moment—so much so that even Margaret Mead probably would not do research like Margaret Mead these days. 1 Researching for Desire In my own autobiographical performance projects, I identify this chiasmatic shift in the possibility that all those performances I did about getting bashed only provided knowledge of subjugation, serving almost as an advertisement for power: “Don’t let this happen to you. Stay in the closet.” . . . I decided to write more about the gratifications of same-sex relationships, to depict intimacy and desire, the kinds of subjugated knowledges we don’t get to see on the afterschool specials and movies of the week that parade queer bruises and broken bones but shy away from the queer kiss. Craig Gingrich-Philbrook, “Auto-ethnography’s Family Values” (2005) One alternative to damage-centered research is to craft our research to capture desire instead of damage. I submit that a desire-based framework is an antidote to damage-centered research. An antidote stops and counteracts the effects of a poison, and the poison I am referring to here is not the supposed damage of Native communities, urban communities, or other disenfranchised communities but the frameworks that position these communities as damaged. As I will explore, desire-based research frameworks are concerned with understanding complexity, contradiction, and the self-determination of lived lives. Considering the excerpt from Craig Gingrich-Philbrook (2005), desire-based frameworks defy the lure to serve as “advertisements for power” by documenting not only the painful elements of social realities but also the wisdom and hope. Such an axiology is intent on depathologizing the experiences of dispossessed and disenfranchised communities so that people are seen as more than broken and conquered. This is to say that even when communities are broken and conquered, they are so much more than that—so much more that this incomplete story is an act of aggression. Several solid examples of such depathologizing work come to mind. 2 In these examples, typical scripts of blame are flipped, and latent assumptions about responsibility are provoked. For instance, in her study of the relationships between privatization of the public sphere and constructed public perceptions of women who are responsible for the death of their children, Sarah Carney (2006) argues: Race, class and gender work in combination within a current (U.S.) social and political moment that favors privatization and the withdrawal of public support to frame and construct various images of “natural” women, of “good” and “bad” mothers, and of female responsibility; and these now-familiar images work to support/bolster state policies regarding shrinking social assistance, and allow the state to place the burden for caring back on the backs of women, particularly women who are poor and of color. (p. 11)
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	13	+Coloniality generates a permanent state of exception that is the root cause of the death ethics of war and underwrites a hellish existence where death, murder, war, rape, and racism are ordinary
	14	+Maldonado-Torres, 8 (Nelson Maldonado-Torres, associate professor of comparative literature at Rutgers, 2008 Against War: Views from the Underside of Modernity, p. 217-21)
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	16	+Dussel, Quijano, and Wynter lead us to the understanding that what happened in the Americas was a transformation and naturalization of the non-ethics of war—which represented a sort of exception to the ethics that regulate normal conduct in Christian countries—into a more stable and long-standing reality of damnation, and that this epistemic and material shift occurred in the colony. Damnation, life in hell, is colonialism: a reality characterized by the naturalization of war by means of the naturalization of slavery, now justified in relation to the very constitution of people and no longer solely or principally to their faith or belief. That human beings become slaves when they are vanquished in a war translates in the Americas into the suspicion that the conquered people, and then non-European peoples in general, are constitutively inferior and that therefore they should assume a position of slavery and serfdom. Later on, this idea would be solidified with respect to the slavery of African peoples, achieving stability up to the present with the tragic reality of different forms of racism. Through this process, what looked like a "state of exception" in the colonies became the rule in the modern world. However, deviating from Giorgio Agarnben's diagnosis, one must say that the colony~-~-long before the concentration camp and the Nazi politics of extermination~-~-served as the testing ground for the limits and possibilities of modernity, thereby revealing its darkest secrets." It is race, the coloniality of power, and its concomitant Eurocentrism (and not only national socialisms or forms of fascism) that allow the "state of exception" to continue to define ordinary relations in this, our so-called postmodern world. Race emerges within a permanent state of exception where forms of behavior that are legitimate in war become a natural part of the ordinary way of life. In that world, an otherwise extraordinary affair becomes the norm and living in it requires extraordinary effort." In the racial/ colonial world, the "hell" of war becomes a condition that defines the reality of racialized selves, which Fanon referred to as the damnes de la terre (condemned of the earth). The damne (condemned) is a subject who exists in a permanent "hell," and as such, this figure serves as the main referent or liminal other that guarantees the continued affirmation of modernity as a paradigm of war. The hell of the condemned is not defined by the alienation of colonized productive forces, but rather signals the dispensability of racialized subjects, that is, the idea that the world would be fundamentally better without them. The racialized subject is ultimately a dispensable source of value, and exploitation is conceived in this context as due torture, and not solely as the extraction of surplus value. Moreover, it is this very same conception that gives rise to the particular erotic dynamics that characterize the relation between the master and its slaves or racialized workers. The condemned, in short, inhabit a context in which the confrontation with death and murder is ordinary. Their "hell" is not simply "other people," as Sartre would have put it-at leasxt at one point - but rather racist perceptions that are responsible for the suspension of ethical behavior toward peoples at the bottom of the color line. Through racial conceptions that became central to the modern self, modernity and coloniality produced a permanent state of war that racialized and colonized subjects cannot evade or escape.
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	19	+The 1AC’s presentation is focused on the act of violence. Refusal is about redirecting analysis – the 1AC reduces violence to mere spectacles while our method is more conducive to structural analysis: Tuck and Yang 2
	20	+For the purposes of our discussion, the most important insight to draw from Simpson’s article is her emphasis that refusals are not subtractive, but are theoretically generative (p. 78), expansive. Refusal is not just a “no,” but a redirection to ideas otherwise unacknowledged or unquestioned. Unlike a settler colonial configuration of knowledge that is petulantly exasperated and resentful of limits, a methodology of refusal regards limits on knowledge as productive, as indeed a good thing. To explore how refusal and the installation of limits on settler colonial knowledge might be productive, we make a brief detour to the Erased Lynching series (2002–2011) by Los Angeles–based artist Ken Gonzales-Day (see Figure 12.1). Gonzales-Day researched lynching in California and the Southwest and found that the majority of lynch victims were Latinos, American Indians, and Asians. Like lynchings in the South, lynchings in California were events of public spectacle, often attended by hundreds, sometimes thousands of festive onlookers. At the lynchings, professional photographers took hours to set up portable studios similar to those used at carnivals; they sold their images frequently as postcards, mementos of public torture and execution to be circulated by U.S. post throughout the nation and the world. Lynching, we must be reminded, was extralegal, yet nearly always required the complicity of law enforcement—either by marshals or sheriffs in the act itself, or by judges and courts in not bothering to prosecute the lynch mob afterward. The photographs immortalize the murder beyond the time and place of the lynching, and in their proliferation, expand a single murder to the general murderability of the non-White body. In this respect, the image of the hanged, mutilated body itself serves a critical function in the maintenance of White supremacy and the spread of racial terror beyond the lynching. The spectacle of the lynching is the medium of terror. Gonzales-Day’s the Erased Lynching series reintroduces the photographs of lynching to a contemporary audience, with one critical intervention: The ropes and the lynch victim have been removed from the images. Per Gonzales-Day’s website (n.d.), the series enacted a conceptual gesture intended to direct the viewer’s attention, not upon the lifeless body of lynch victim, but upon the mechanisms of lynching themselves: the crowd, the spectacle, the photographer, and even consider the impact of flash photography upon this dismal past. The perpetrators, if present, remain fully visible, jeering, laughing, or pulling at the air in a deadly pantomime. As such, this series strives to make the invisible visible. The Erased Lynching series yields another context in which we might consider what a social scientist’s refusal stance might comprise. Though indeed centering on the erasure of the former object, refusal need not be thought of as a subtractive methodology. Refusal prompts analysis of the festive spectators regularly backgrounded in favor of wounded bodies, strange fruit, interesting scars. Refusal shifts the gaze from the violated body to the violating instruments—in this case, the lynch mob, which does not disappear when the lynching is over, but continues to live, accumulating land and wealth through the extermination and subordination of the Other. Thus, refusal helps move us from thinking of violence as an event and toward an analysis of it as a structure. Gonzales-Day might have decided to reproduce and redistribute the images as postcards, which, by way of showing up in mundane spaces, might have effectively inspired reflection on the spectacle of violence and media of terror. However, in removing the body and the ropes, he installed limits on what the audience can access, and redirected our gaze to the bodies of those who were there to see a murder take place, and to the empty space beneath the branches. Gonzales-Day introduced a new representational territory, one that refuses to play by the rules of the settler colonial gaze, and one that refuses to satisfy the morbid curiosity derived from settler colonialism’s preoccupation with pain.

EntryDate

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	1	+2016-11-19 22:26:05.299

Judge

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	1	+Daniel Shatzkin

Opponent

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	1	+Isiadore Newman Avni

ParentRound

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	1	+15

Round

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	1	+3

Team

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	1	+Westwood Mandavilli Neg

Title

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	1	+1 - K - Suffering Reps

Tournament

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	1	+Glenbrooks