imperialism

Absolute Erotic, Absolute Grotesque: The Living, Dead, and Undead in Japan's Imperialism, 1895-1945

caitlin — Sat, 04 Dec 2010 12:00:00 +0000

Mark Driscoll, an associate professor of Japanese and International Studies at the University of North Carolina, here presents a very thorough reassessment of Japanese imperialism of Asia in the first half of the twentieth century. Driscoll focuses his attention on the fringes of the colonized Asian peoples, writing about the Chinese coolies, Korean farmers, Japanese pimps and trafficked women of various Asian nationalities that moved Japan's empire along and provided the behind-the-scenes energy that created such an empire. Japan's rise to a capitalist power—and its expansion of its empire—is identified by Driscoll as happening in three distinct phases, each marked by exploitation of people, land, life, and labor: biopolitics, neuropolitics, and necropolitics.

Driscoll's reading of biopolitics as it applies to Japanese imperialism and capitalism is the same as Michel Foucault's: faire vivir (improving life) and laisser mourir (letting die off). Biopolitics most often involves public health, disease prevention, maternity clinics, and hygiene campaigns. It directly ties in to the concept of laissez-faire capitalism, its aim being for some lives to be improved and for others to be left to fare for themselves. In neuropolitics, the exploited worker in the capitalist society has a life that no longer belongs to him but to the object into which he puts his life (often his job); therefore, he must try to buy back his own life in the form of “commodity substitutes.” (Think of Fight Club and its message of “the things you own end up owning you.”) Citizens in a neuropolitical state are “shocked into stupefaction,” and then tricked into buying a “second life” back from the capitalist regime in the form of consumable goods. Necropolitics, the third phase of Japan's capitalist imperial expansion, is defined as the state in which workers, forced laborers, and colonized persons are aware of the constant threat of omnipresent death, and perceive life as a constant struggle against this threat of death. The imperialistic powers over the colonized peoples subjugate their lives with the power of death.

Absolute Erotic, Absolute Grotesque is a highly fascinating book, though occasionally dry and academic. This is no fault of the writer or subject matter, but simply my own Western/Caucasian mind not having these lingual-neural pathways, but I had trouble keeping up with the many Asian names sprinkled liberally throughout the text. There is plenty in here to intrigue those with an interest in twentieth century world politics, Marxism, sex workers, the failures of capitalism, the deplorable treatment of women in war conditions, poverty, gender, race, political corruption, and the swift rise and fall of empires. Driscoll also covers pornography and drugs in Japan's colonization of Asia, and includes some grisly photographs from “erotic-grotesque” magazines, the idea of these being that the two concepts were not so different from one another.

Written by: Natalie Ballard, December 4th 2010

Becoming Imperial Citizens: Indians in the Late-Victorian Empire

priyanka — Sun, 10 Oct 2010 16:00:00 +0000

By Sukanya Banerjee

Duke University Press

It’s important to state here that Becoming Imperial Citizens is a work of research best suited for academic audiences. The upper-level vocabulary, combined with analysis, makes for quite a heavy reading.

Sukanya Banerjee’s work looks at the British Empire and citizenship with reference to Indians during, as the title notes, the late Victorian period. From documents covering Mahatma Ghandi’s early years in South Africa to Cornelia Sorabji (Oxford’s first female law student), Banerjee examines the complexities of Indian citizenship under imperial control.

The text provides many examples of how difficult it was for Indian citizens to actually be treated as such. The British system, while quite ideal on paper, did not treat its Indian subjects as citizens. Nevertheless, India proved to be more progressive than England itself when it came to achieving franchise. A good example is Dadabhai Naoroji, who utilized colonial language to appease Britain while advocating for India’s needs. For the good of England, he argued, her Indian subjects required the same rights and justice as her English-born.

To complicate matters, even when individuals like Surendranath Banerjea (one of the first Indians with the Indian Civil Service) complied with empirical expectations, they did not become citizens. Indians had to travel all the way to London, England to take the ICS exam, which greatly reduced Indian chances of admission—many Indians simply couldn’t afford the trip. When Banerjea made it into the ICS, a supposedly permanent position, he was overworked at first, and then expelled. He attempted to go to plan B, law, but his history with ICS ruined his chances. Ghandi, in his writings, also noted discrimination against Indians in South Africa, which was evident as soon as he arrived there.

Banerjee does not merely examine British-educated Indians; she presents their writings and documents to show that the Indian caste system was another obstacle to gaining real citizenship within the empire. Professional occupations in India were a privilege, for the elite. The exam for ICS, for example, was opened to those who did not have a university education but ‘crammer’ preparation. To keep up the lower class individuals who passed the ICS exam, candidates had to show mastery of such elite skills as horsemanship and ‘gentlemanly’ manners. In gaining a foothold for Indian traders in South Africa, Ghandi himself initially downplayed unskilled labourers, conforming to the stereotypes of the day.

While fighting for the right of real citizenship, the affluent people presented in Banerjee’s analysis were well aware of the intricate factors involved in imperial politics. They knew how to play the imperial game in order to make small, gradual gains towards the goal of realized citizenship for all Indian subjects.

Becoming Imperial Citizens is a great resource for anybody studying the British Colonial Regime’s legal, social, or political history. The struggle for equal status in daily living is not specific to India, but experienced by all former British colonies. When taking action against the government, it took inspirational actions to gradually tear down racial, class, and gender obstacles to citizenship for all.

Written by: Nicolette Westfall, October 10th 2010

Women Without Men

admin — Sat, 05 Jun 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Directed by Shirin Neshat

Indiepix

The story of director Shirin Neshat is almost as compelling as her first feature. Born in religiously conservative Qazvin, Iran, Neshat has been using visual art to explore gender relations under Islam for nearly two decades, traveling back and forth between the States and Iran to enrich her perspective. But because her work has been so politically outspoken, Neshat has been exiled from her native country since 1996.

A visionary as courageous as she is condemned, Neshat is perhaps the most likely candidate to direct Women Without Men, an adaptation of Shahrnush Parsipur's sweeping novel. The scope of Parsipur's story is both epic and intimate, juxtaposing the Western imperialist invasion of Tehran with the intertwining lives of four Iranian women during the tumultuous summer of 1953. To call such a project ambitious would be an understatement.

The connection between this political upheaval and the four characters in question is unmistakable; just as the people of Tehran have decided to come together and fight to maintain democracy, these four women have reached an impasse in their own lives. Nearing thirty and still unwedded, Munis (Shabnam Toloui) seeks to escape the oppressive hand of her older brother; Faezeh (Pegah Ferydoni), a rape victim, must flee to avoid condemnation; long-time prostitute Zarin (Orsolya Tóth) is finally ready to leave the life behind; and middle-aged Fakhri (Arita Shahrzad) has grown weary of her stifling, loveless marriage. The greater struggle of the revolution provides a moving counterpoint to the individual struggles of these characters to achieve solace.

Both the book and the film use elements of magic realism to tell their story. In order to be free of her brother and reinvent herself as a revolutionary, Munis either fakes her own suicide or actually commits suicide and comes back to life; it's unclear which. While roaming the woods, Faezeh sees a surreal reenactment of her rape. Though the device isn't consistent, it still manages to be effective when used.

It helps that the film is beautifully shot, with careful compositions and a palpable tone and style. Neshat uses a metallic palette throughout, giving the film an appropriately imprisoning feel. The film is also remarkable for its avoidance of graphic imagery, with the exception of a disturbing scene in which Zarin scrubs herself raw in a public bath, but this is more to emphasize her diseased, nearly skeletal body, and needless to say, this lone image has a lingering impact.

In fact, it is Zarin's story that ends up being the most effective, while some of the others seem a bit heavy-handed at times. Fakhri's husband chides, "A woman hitting menopause shouldn't be flirting anymore," while Munis' brother declares, "A woman's body is like a flower. Once it blossoms, it quickly withers away." It's not that these sentiments aren't believable, but pairing them with a sheer lack of sympathetic male characters makes it all seem intentionally exaggerated.

From the film's final disclaimer, it seems that Neshat's primary objective was to focus on the revolution, but the way Women Without Men unfolds makes the political aspect of the story more of a backdrop than a feature. It is quite poignant, however, to realize that, in the end, our four main characters have been afforded a rebirth of some kind, even if it's through death, while the Iranian people have failed to achieve the one for which they've so bravely fought.

Written by: Caitlin Graham, June 5th 2010

State Quarter Necklace

admin — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 23:18:00 +0000

By Wabisabi Brooklyn

Readers, Wabisabi Brooklyn’s State Quarter Necklace has got me feeling conflicted. You see, I've always had a fondness for small acts of rebellion: sneaking a few beers as a teenager, slapping "this is offensive to women" stickers on public advertisements, getting it on in the coed bathroom at an indie rock show. I know these things aren't going to change the world, but a little transgression makes for funny stories and hours of mischievous entertainment. So you'd think I'd be down with a necklace that is evidence of a minor crime against the U.S. Treasury—and yeah, for the most part, I am.

Having drilled two small holes through the quarter on either side of Colorado, Wabisabi designer MaryAnne LoVerme affixes an 18-inch copper chain to the coin, which positions it just below the sternal notch. A tiny gold star and company stamp are attached to the chain near the lobster claw clasp, which increases the ease with which the necklace can be put on or removed.

As the company's name, according to LoVerme, means "beauty of imperfection" in Japanese, the silver-copper color contrast perfectly suits her design aesthetic. LoVerme says she works with coins in order to "imbue jewelry with an element of chance and luck," and luck is something she'd better have on her side on the off-chance that the secret service takes issue with her creative liberties. Those folks don't mess around:

Whoever mutilates, cuts, disfigures, perforates, unites or cements together, or does any other thing to any bank bill, draft, note, or other evidence of debt issued by any national banking association, Federal Reserve Bank, or Federal Reserve System, with intent to render such item(s) unfit to be reissued, shall be fined not more than $100 or imprisoned not more than six months, or both.

This necklace is cute, but it ain't $100 or six months in jail cute.

Another thing that isn't cute about this necklace is wearing it where I live: India. While twenty-five cents doesn't get you more than a Ring Pop or a Wacky Wall Walker in the States, on the streets of Kolkata I can get a kati roll and a cup of cha with that loot. I could buy two kilos of aloo or 500ml of Amul dahi. And the thought of wearing a symbol of American economic imperialism around my neck in a place where millions are starving... well, let's just say I won't be wearing this chain around my neck until I'm back on US soil. For those who aren't in my same situation, feel free to show your state pride or the upside down profile of George Washington by visiting Wabisabi Brooklyn. LoVerme may even throw in a free gift; I got a Goumet Scented Pencil made from recycled newspapers that smells like Black Cherry. I think I'll give it to one of the schoolgirls who lives in my building.

Editor's Comment: No more comments will be allowed on this post, as it has become a playground for a group of etsy/indie designer bullies who would like to turn Elevate Difference into a site for some ridiculous and contrived vendetta against one of our writers simply because she expressed a political sentiment they disagree with (or, more entertaining, who they see as having participated in a conspiratorial plot against Wabisabi). Much of the information being circulated in the etsy/designer realm of the blogosphere about the way this review came about is inaccurate—such as the claim that this necklace was sent by the designer to India at her own cost, which it untrue as the necklace was requested by an ED Editor and sent to ED's office in Georgia, not the writer directly. This can be verified by asking MaryAnne LoVerme at Wabisabi. I shouldn't have to remind grown adults about the import of information being based in fact, not speculation and blatant falsehoods. We have published several reviews that are less than favorable (some written in a far more caustic manner) for a given product, but this type of overblown response that some people are demonstrating is quite rare, I can assure you. Probably because most people recognize that throwing tantrums in public isn't good for their own business. Well, unless you're Glenn Beck or someone who makes a living on that sort of thing. Either way, the ganging up of anti-feminist trolls who perpetuate oppressive myths about catfighting and female irrationality is in direct opposition to the mission of Feminist Review, and only serves to make women in general and etsy and indie designers in specific look foolish, so it will not be allowed to continue on this blog.

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, August 9th 2009