For decades, Jammu and Kashmir (J&K) has been occupied by India and Pakistan. Following the partition of British India, wars between India and Pakistan over J&K resulted in the creation of the de facto border, known as the Line of Control, which was established in the Simla Agreement of 1972. Under this agreement, Pakistan controls one third of Jammu and Kashmir (POK), and India controls two thirds (IOK).

In the wake of Tuesday’s decision, the situation in IOK has rapidly deteriorated. Since August 4, all communications have been blocked by the Indian government, including internet access, cell service, and landlines. An indefinite curfew has been declared, meaning inhabitants are barred from leaving their home without an approved curfew pass. Even those requiring urgent medical attention are not permitted to leave to receive care or to contact anyone for help. One protestor has already died after being chased by the police, with several others injured. The entire region is on lockdown as India continues its brutal repression of the Kashmiri people, further stifling hope for Kashmiri separatists, after decades of disputes and demands for “azadi” (freedom).

Since August 4, all communications have been blocked by the Indian government, including internet access, cell service, and landlines.

But this is not the first time a curfew such as this one has been imposed in IOK. Over the past 72 years of Indian occupation, communication blackouts and curfews have become commonplace, sometimes lasting as long as six months. There have consistently been around 500,000 to 700,000 Indian soldiers stationed in IOK since 1989, making it the most densely militarized zone in the world. Over the last month, tens of thousands of additional soldiers have been deployed to the region, including Rapid Action Forces specialized in riot control. What makes this a particularly tense time are the egregious and unconstitutional decisions being imposed on Kashmir by the central government in New Delhi.

What are Articles 370 and 35A?

Article 370 of the Indian Constitution took effect in 1949, two years after the partition of British India into the independent dominions of Pakistan and India. The Article grants IOK special privileges within the Indian Constitution, theoretically allowing the state government internal sovereignty, as well as an independent constitution and laws. At the same time, however, the Article outlines that external issues of defense, communications, and foreign affairs are controlled by the central government of India. 

Article 35A is a provision added in 1954 under Article 370. This new Article critically gave the state of IOK power to decide who its permanent residents are and to limit property buying rights to these residents. The state defines permanent residents as those who were “born or settled within the state before 1911 or after having lawfully acquired immovable property and resident in the state for not less than 10 years before that date.” It also does not allow non-permanent residents to buy land and settle in the state. 

Historical background of the Articles

Article 35A can be traced back to 1927, in pre-partition India. Maharaja Hari Singh, the Hindu ruler of the Muslim-majority “princely state” of J&K in British India, drafted the original version of the article to prevent the influx of people from the state of Punjab. This provided the basis for the 1954 version in question.

During the 1947 partition of British India, Maharaja Hari Singh was theoretically given the choice to accede to India or Pakistan, or remain independent. Unlike most rulers of princely states, Hari Singh decided that J&K would remain independent. However, after escalating threats from Pakistan, Hari Singh eventually decided to accede to India in order to gain the help of the Indian army in warding off Pakistan. The Governor-General of India accepted the accession, noting that once the affairs of the State had been settled and law and order had been restored, “the question of the State’s accession should be settled by a reference to the people.” Furthermore, conditional on the signing of the Instrument of Accession was the introduction of Article 370 into the Indian Constitution, intended to ensure that while external sovereignty was acceded to India, J&K could still decide on internal matters independently. 

Catastrophic repercussions of the repeal

The unconstitutional repeal of Articles 370 and 35A strips IOK of any independence it held. The central Indian government is fully absorbing it into the Indian body, effectively annexing the occupied state. The repeal also means that non-Kashmiri residents can now freely buy land in IOK and settle there permanently. This has the potential to significantly change the demographics of IOK, transforming it from Muslim-majority to Hindu-majority. 

This demographic change furthers the Hindu nationalist project of Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). The Party is home to the religious far-right and a political subset of the Hindu fundamentalist group Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS). The RSS is a self-proclaimed Hindu nationalist organization which has, over the past decades, stoked hatred towards non-Hindus and slowly saturated the institutional and social body of India with its fascist, Islamophobic, and casteist ideologies. It has been shifting India from a secular country to a Hindu supremacist one. The BJP was elected for a second term earlier this year, and included in its campaign platform the promise to eliminate Article 370 and 35A of the Constitution. 

The unconstitutional repeal of Articles 370 and 35A strips IOK of any independence Kashmir held. The central Indian government is fully absorbing it into the Indian body, effectively annexing the occupied state.

The BJP government has also had a longstanding plan to resettle Hindus who fled IOK in settlements that amount to segregated enclaves. The construction of these “resettlement townships” has been opposed by local political parties, Muslim leaders, and groups representing the Hindus that fled. However, last month the BJP revived its interest in building these settlements. Combined with one of the most lethal military occupations in the world, the repeal of Article 35A makes clear the BJP’s goal of settler-colonization and ethnic cleansing of Kashmir. Furthermore, once people from all over India have settled in IOK, it is much less likely that separatist movements could gain traction. The “world’s largest democracy” has explicitly revealed itself to be an undemocratic, colonial, occupying force.

Dispute over the region

In April of 1948, after the first Indo-Pakistan War over J&K, the UN called for a plebiscite to determine the will of the Kashmiri people to resolve the dispute. Seventy-one years later, such a plebiscite has yet to happen. Over the decades, Kashmir has seen constant uprisings and protests calling for azadi, particularly in IOK, where a military occupation means that checkpoints are ubiquitous, soldiers roam every street, and any dissent is violently and lethally quashed by the Indian military. Under the Armed Forces (Special Powers) Act, the Indian military in IOK also enjoys extrajudicial power, which renders it impossible to try them for the thousands of murders, rapes, and blindings they have committed and are committing against Kashmiris. 

Combined with one of the most lethal military occupations in the world, the repeal of Article 35A makes clear the BJP’s goal of settler-colonization and ethnic cleansing of Kashmir.

Pakistan has also historically furthered its own geopolitical agenda, constantly funding radical Islamist and pro-Pakistan movements within IOK, while simultaneously drowning out and fighting against indigenous separatist organizations. This has also allowed India to blame all and any unrest in IOK on “terrorists funded by Pakistan” in order to garner approval and support for brutal crackdowns on protests.

The indigenous movements calling for separatism and for a plebiscite to finally take place have been constantly drowned out by sabre-rattling and war-mongering between India and Pakistan. The two nuclear powers have continuously co-opted the Kashmir issue (read: occupation) to further their own political agendas, and have been unflinching in their desire to absorb the state of J&K into their own respective country, while disregarding the voices of Kashmiris, most of whom want J&K to be independent. Kashmir has essentially been treated as an occupied colony ever since partition. 

Bifurcation of IOK

The Jammu and Kashmir Reorganisation Bill also strips Jammu and Kashmir of its status as a state. It divides IOK into two “union territories,” a western territory of Jammu and Kashmir, and an eastern one of Ladakh (another region of IOK). 

States within India have their own legislative assembly and a chief minister, allowing them to define their own laws. They have both a lower and upper house, and representation in the Rajya Sabha. On the other hand, union territories are controlled directly by the central government of India. 

The union territory of Jammu and Kashmir will have its own legislative assembly, but no upper house, and the final decisions will be held by the lieutenant governor, appointed by the central government of India. The union territory of Ladakh will not have a legislative assembly, and will instead be controlled directly by an appointed governor. 

The indigenous movements calling for separatism and for a plebiscite to finally take place have been constantly drowned out by sabre-rattling and war-mongering between India and Pakistan.

The lieutenant governor, appointed by the central government of India, will be able to exercise control over territory laws, meaning the Indian government will be able to directly dictate the internal politics of IOK. What little independence Kashmiri people held on to has been violently robbed from them. The state of IOK (now existing as two union territories) has even less independence than other Indian states. Kashmiri politician Shah Faesal reports that “it is the loss of statehood that has hurt people deeply. This is being seen as the biggest betrayal by the Indian state in the last 70 years.”

Constitutional manipulation and challenges to the repeal

The Jammu and Kashmir Reorganisation Bill is already being exposed as “fraud upon the Constitution.” Article 370(3) specifically states that the Article can only be repealed through concurrence of the Constituent Assembly of IOK. However, IOK has not had a Constituent Assembly since 1956, when it dissolved itself by drafting the state Constitution. On August 5, to override this, President Kovind passed a Presidential Order which redefined Article 367, a section of the Constitution that outlines rules for interpreting provisions of the Constitution. In an insidious constitutional sleight of hand, the Presidential Order added clause 4 to Article 367, stating that the words “Constituent Assembly” in Article 370(3) would be interpreted as “Legislative Assembly.” 

Yet, currently, no legislative assembly exists in IOK either. In June of 2018, the elected government of IOK was ousted, and the governor took control of the state. In November, the BJP pulled out of a coalition government with the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) of Jammu and Kashmir, and the governor dissolved the state Legislative Assembly. Since then, the power of the Legislature of Jammu and Kashmir has been vested in the central Indian Legislature. Thus, once the governor and the Lok Sabha approved the Bill, it was taken as the approval of the “Legislative Assembly” of Jammu and Kashmir, purportedly satisfying the “concurrence” required under Article 370(3) as defined by the new Article 367(4).

Most legal experts agree that this constitutional manipulation is fraudulent and illegal, and the matter has already been taken to the Supreme Court. Since an elected Constituent Assembly did not exist to endorse this Bill, it is unconstitutional, regardless of the loopholes the fascist government attempted to jump through. However, many also think it is unlikely the courts will overturn the decision, as most of the political parties in India backed the Bill. Either way, it is likely that the government will battle in court, drawing out the proceedings, thereby buying time to do horrific damage in IOK.

Kashmir has essentially been treated as an occupied colony ever since partition. 

Furthermore, politicians opposed to this decision are stressing that Article 370 was the cornerstone of the accession of J&K to India. Thus, it is argued that the repeal of Article 370 should render the Instrument of Accession null and void, as this was a unilateral decision without the approval of an elected Kashmiri government. This would mean that J&K is not legally under Indian control anymore.

Current situation in IOK

Over the past month, rumours about the repeal of Articles 370 and 35A spread throughout IOK as tens of thousands of soldiers poured into the region. In the days leading up to the August 5 announcement, tourists were told to leave the region, and Amarnath Yatris (religious pilgrims) had their religious rights violated as they were asked to immediately leave IOK, despite being in pilgrimage. This was justified by unsubstantiated claims of “external threats,” which were blindly repeated by mainstream journalists. Kashmiris started gathering food, gas, and money in anticipation of a curfew being declared. On the night of August 4, all communication channels and internet access were shut down. Early the next morning, an indefinite curfew was imposed, hours before the announcement of the Jammu and Kashmir Reorganisation Bill. Two former Chief Ministers of Kashmir were also placed under house arrest, along with other political leaders. While the entire world learned of this vicious bill, the people of Kashmir were kept locked in their houses, with no way of finding out the fate that was being decided for them in New Delhi. Families were unable to contact their loved ones to find out if they were okay. 

The few people who have been able to leave or communicate outside IOK in the past few days paint a grim picture. Srinagar (the summer capital of J&K) has been described as a “city of soldiers and concertina wire.” Allegedly, ATMs are out of money and soldiers are stationed “every five feet,” leading to Shah Faesal describing the situation as “six million people incarcerated like never before.” The communication blackout means that it is nearly impossible for Kashmiris to find out what is happening, and which rumours are true, rendering Kashmir “invisible, even inside Kashmir.” 

While the entire world learned of this vicious bill, the people of Kashmir were kept locked in their houses, with no way of finding out the fate that was being decided for them in New Delhi.

The Hindu nationalist Indian government is using brute force to unconstitutionally remove the little independence Jammu and Kashmir was ensured, annexing the state, with settler-colonialism on the horizon. It is imperative that we raise awareness about the situation in Kashmir. While an indefinite curfew persists, we must fight harder than ever for the self-determination and azadi of Kashmiris. Protests are being organized across the world to call attention to the colonial treatment of J&K, including the #RedForKashmir social media campaign. Over the past decades, thousands have died at the hands of the Indian military, and the lockdown in Kashmir right now should be cause for outrage and immediate action, as the death toll continues to rise. We cannot let the repeal of these Articles, the next step in a violent, 72 year long occupation, become normalized. It is essential that we continue to call for the end of the occupation of Kashmir by all parties involved, so that the will of the Kashmiri people can be respected. It is time for azadi.

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These mainstream Western conversations often establish their authority by relying on a white saviour mentality which positions the East as “outdated and oppressive,” and in need of “saving” by the “progressive” West. This perspective infantilizes the East and ignores the colonial histories of these queerphobic laws. Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code criminalized consensual sex between same-sex individuals for 158 years, before it was struck down by the Supreme Court. The law originated during the time of the British Raj, a period of ongoing colonization by Britain. Section 377 cannot be separated from the orientalism* which created it. At the time, Britain imagined the Indian subcontinent as “stuck in the past,” in contrast to Western “modernity,” and viewed the indigenous community of the subcontinent as “exotic” and “uncivilized.” The “catching up” rhetoric attempts to discount the direct responsibility of the West in the production of queerphobic aspects of South Asian culture. Several accounts of precolonial India depict acceptance, and even reverence, for sexual and gender minority people, such as hijras (gender non-conforming individuals). Jain religious texts from the fifth century CE distinguish between sexual characteristics and psychological gender and accept a “third sex” as an identity. Many Islamic poems considered hijras as “closer to Allah,” and during the Mughal Period, hijras were often political advisors, generals, and guardians of the holy places of Mecca and Medina. Same-sex relationships also appear often in ancient Indian literature, and adorn Hindu temples. It is necessary to acknowledge that the West directly caused a vast majority of oppression that sexual minorities face in the Indian subcontinent today.

Often, the LGBTQ rights movement in the Indian subcontinent is assimilated with decolonial practices. However, while the movement does fight against colonial laws, it can also be criticized for upholding the very colonial hierarchies it opposes. By using models of gender and sexuality that originated in the West, and are non-native to the Indian subcontinent, the LGBTQ rights movement does not truly engage in decolonization. Terms such as gay, lesbian, transgender, etc., along with the LGBTQ acronym itself, did not exist pre-colonization. The tools employed by the movement, such as the rainbow flag and the invocation of non-native identity categories, are reinforcing the use of Western ideologies and models, which implicitly perpetuates the hegemony of Western hierarchies.

It is necessary to acknowledge that the West directly caused a vast majority of oppression that sexual minorities face in the Indian subcontinent today.

Audre Lorde’s seminal work “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House” suggests that the patriarchy cannot be destroyed using agents of its oppression. She argues that when oppressive systems are used to critique or dismantle oppression, no substantial change can ever occur. It follows that the colonizer’s tools cannot be used in the process of decolonization. Similarly, Foucault argues that the very idea of a “true sexuality,” such as that of the homosexual, was produced in the West during the Victorian era. Thus, the freedom to express “true sexuality” that the LGBTQ rights movement in the Indian subcontinent advocates for, is often rooted in the colonial and non-native “LGBTQ” discourse. This is apparent through transformations that have occurred in gender discourse, such as the definition of hijras, who once might have not been defined in the discourse of the West, and who are now narrowly referred to as “trans women.” Using colonial models of gender and sexuality to fight against colonialism will never be effective, as it simply reinforces the colonial power dynamics which frame the West as progressive and modern.

Mainstream conversations around sexual minority rights in the Indian subcontinent often fail to criticize or reevaluate the benchmark used for “queer acceptance.” After the decriminalization of gay sex in India, articles published by Western news sources celebrated the major victory for the LGBTQ rights movement. Many articles were also quick to point out that “other major victories, like same-sex marriage, [are] on the near horizon.” This legal recognition of same-sex relationships is depicted as the ultimate goal of LGBTQ rights movements, implying that getting heteronormative approval should be the paramount concern of LGBTQ rights. Public sex or “cruising” is still outlawed, while many other acts continue to be socially, if not legally, stigmatized. The mainstream Western idea of LGBTQ rights does nothing more than reinforce a flawed idea of what queer rights movements should advocate for based on heteronormative standards.

Furthermore, considering the decriminalization of gay sex as part the decolonial process can lead to harmful assumptions. When examining the East, Western writers often essentialize the culture of pre-colonial India and fail to recognize that the subcontinent is not ubiquitous in their identities and struggles. The idea that the pre-colonial subcontinent was somehow utopian in its treatment of sexual minorities, and was then “ruined” through colonization paints a picture of a homogenous mass lacking nuances. Theorizing about gender and sexuality also requires the recognition of indigenous queerphobia in the pre-colonial era – although hijras were more widely accepted, they were still fetishized, and their treatment and freedoms were still limited compared to those afforded to cisgender people. The decolonial discourse around precolonial gender and sexualities often romanticize them as “fluid” and “exotic,” in contrast to Western models, without acknowledging that this view is also rooted in orientalism. This ignores the complex social and political structures that affect gender and sexuality, both pre- and post-colonization.

The idea that the pre-colonial subcontinent was somehow utopian in its treatment of sexual minorities, and was then “ruined” through colonization paints a picture of a homogenous mass lacking nuances.

All mainstream views on LGBTQ rights in the Indian subcontinent must reconcile with their power structures. Although advocating for queer rights is an important step in decolonization, it is important to avoid romanticization and talk about the political climate of the East with the same degrees of complexity that we offer the West. While it is important to reveal the colonial and orientalist power structures that led to prevalent queerphobia in the subcontinent, we must ensure we do not homogenize and idealize precolonial communities, as this also perpetuates orientalism. While the increased visibility of the LGBTQ community and the massive strides made in the past year should not be understated, it’s important to remain cognizant of the work that remains to be done. Remaining critical of both the movement itself and the responses to the movement is essential to resist reproducing power structures.

*Check out The McGill Daily’s anti-oppressive glossary.

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So where is McGill’s advertised “diverse, international population?”

Like most universities in North America, the international student body at McGill is astonishingly white. International students from white majority Western countries vastly outnumber those from non-white countries, at every level of study. An infographic (see the end of the article) made by Timour Scrève depicts the relationship between the countries McGill accepts its students from and these countries’ Gross Domestic Product (GDP). It dramatically visualizes the correlation between a country’s wealth and the presence of its nationals at McGill. There is without doubt a clear imbalance in the international admissions at McGill, with students from richer countries being much more likely to attend the University than others. Moreover, the GDP of these countries is heavily influenced by a history of colonialism and neo-colonialism, which still affects international students to this day.

Common colonizers have notoriously included the United Kingdom, France, Spain, Portugal, and the Netherlands, among others. These countries continue to also be major neo-colonizers, along with nations such as Canada and the United States. By using their power to control and influence others, neo-colonialism is another way in which rich Western countries continue to exploit and harm developing countries. Interestingly, these Western countries are also the ones overwhelmingly represented in the student population at McGill.

McGill’s standardized testing and curriculum requirements for international students does not deviate at all from the oppressive admission standards Western universities have set. These requirements are often much more accessible for applicants from richer countries. They necessitate a high level of personal financial means, but also infrastructures, like testing centres and extracurricular activities, that poorer countries are not always able to offer. McGill admission standards do not take into account the unequal opportunities that countries offer to their students. However, this dichotomy between rich and poor overlooks the fact that most wealthier countries also have both colonial roots and white majority populations. McGill engages in neo-colonial behaviour by ensuring that only a certain privileged demographic is able to attend the university.

McGill engages in neo-colonial behaviour by ensuring that only a certain privileged demographic is able to attend the university.

What’s more, by accepting the majority of its students from wealthy countries, and neglecting to address the biased standard of admissions, McGill perpetuates the racist idea that people from rich white countries are somehow inherently more intelligent, more deserving and more interested in higher education than people from poorer countries.

As a result of colonial control and propaganda, colonized populations often experience a trend known as “colonial mentality” in which they begin to believe that the colonizers are indeed superior to them. This in turn leads to racial power imbalances and the continued oppression of people of colour. As a result of colonialism white people are often seen as more trustworthy, knowledgeable, and well-mannered. This racist belief is perpetuated by an overwhelmingly white faculty body, even in courses specific to the experiences of people of colour.

McGill continues to employ “diversity” as a major selling point in the marketing of the university to prospective students, only to accept way fewer people of colour than one might expect. The international people of colour who do matriculate are often faced with a disappointing reality. The diversity of the student body, as well as of the programs of study at McGill, are boasted about.
However, the faculties and professors that teach these classes are often white, and focus on course material by white theorists and writers. Faculties such as the Islamic Studies and Cultural Studies are notoriously saturated with a white student council and white professors, reproducing the neo-colonial concept that white people are the most qualified to teach and theorize on all topics, including those foreign to them. While McGill certainly isn’t the only institution neglecting to address its pervasive history of colonialism, it nevertheless is more vocal than many others about its quasi-diversity.

McGill continues to employ “diversity” as a major selling point in the marketing of the university to prospective students, only to accept way fewer people of colour than one might expect.

We need to hold McGill accountable for its neo-colonial practices and the damaging implications it has for its student population. McGill must acknowledge the colonial foundation for the correlation between admissions and GDP in order to start making changes towards allowing admission opportunities for students from less wealthy countries. The undergraduate admissions website still advertises having “30% of students from 150 different countries,” yet a closer look at our University reveals exactly what kind of international students McGill wishes to select.

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Last Thursday, tens of thousands of unions and public sector workers flooded the streets of Paris. As a response to Macron’s new labour reform laws and belt-tightening plans, workers in the public sector, such as train drivers, teachers, nurses, and air traffic controllers have accused him of “seeking to dismantle the state sector.” Similar protests took place in over 180 cities across France, with more than 400,000 people mobilizing to express their dissent. The protests were mainly peaceful and nonviolent, with only minor scuffles with police officers on the outskirts of Paris and in some small cities. In these areas, police arrived in full riot gear, firing water cannons and tear gas to disperse the protesters. The relatively nonviolent protesters are already being labelled in the media as violent and chaotic, with reports stating that the police officers’ actions were necessary. Yet reports from the ground continue to refute this fact.

In the reporting that has been conducted over the past year, descriptions of these protests and countermovements continue to be presented as incontestable accounts of the reality of what actually happened on the scene. Reports of violence are never missing from these articles. But there are questions to be asked: Who decides what is violent and what is not? Who creates the boundaries between acceptable and unacceptable violence?

Missing and murdered Indigenous women are neglected by Justin Trudeau and the Canadian government in the Canadian government’s reporting of these lost lives as merely policy concerns. Reports of Indigenous protests responding to gross injustices, such as these, are eager to highlight even minor events as “turning violent.” But what about violent protest is unjustifiable when the negligence of the government is deemed necessary and acceptable?

Across the border, we see more examples of the dichotomizing that occurs between violent and nonviolent forms of protest. Trump’s decision to take action against the Syrian state in April was supposedly due to the release of images and videos showing Syrians being attacked by chemical weapons, allegedly deployed by the Syrian government. These attacks by the Syrian government on their citizens have since been denied and proven to lack concrete evidence. These images supposedly “moved” Trump to approve missile strikes, with Justin Trudeau and Hillary Clinton both wholeheartedly backing his decision. In this situation, the violence in Syria was deemed unacceptable. Yet Black and Brown protesters across the country, both in and out of prison systems, are being pepper-sprayed, attacked, and killed by the police, but the government does nothing — simply because this violence is labelled as acceptable. This violence is necessary and justified. While reports of the Syrian missile strike are bipartisanly defended, retaliation against police officers is considered both unacceptable and an “attack on democracy.”

As writer Devyn Springer describes: “the concept of ‘violence’ is constructed at a young age to be something always done unto the US and never perpetuated by the US. The US would not paint itself as an aggressor in any instance, presenting subjects like slavery, colonialism, and foreign regime changes through a lens of benevolence rather than the actual violence they represent.” The same description can be applied to many Global North countries: violence is often described as a “necessary evil” if it furthers the interests of the “empire,” but is wholly unacceptable when it questions the authority of the state or its processes.

During Obama’s presidency, drone warfare used in predominantly Black and Brown countries reached a record high. Yet people claim to yearn for the “good old days” when Obama was President. It is rare that someone points out in mainstream media that he was violent, just not in the way that’s usually vilified. His use of drone strikes killed thousands of innocent people overseas, yet drone strikes are critiqued far less than, for example, a powerful and important protest, which led to nothing but property damage, such as broken windows. Why was Obama’s use of violence excusable? Why was it necessary? Why do we continue to justify and even glorify it? Invoking the concept of “national security” is a thinly veiled cover for “furthering the empire.”

Obama’s military action in Muslim countries was also instrumental in creating a reductive, narrow-minded definition of “terrorism.” The current mainstream image of terrorism is almost indistinguishable from Muslim extremism, and uses Islam as a scapegoat and catch-all for this type of violence. The incorrect designation of the term “terrorism” as a catch-all for a specific group’s actions perpetuates these purported acts of “terrorism” enacted by the Global North. Interference, often unnecessarily, by the Global North often relies on this image of Islam as the one true source of terrorism. This then excuses any terrorism that the state itself might participate in: “when nearly 90 per cent of drone strikes in places like Somalia and Yemen don’t hit their target, injuring civilians, at what point do we understand it as a terrorist act?” In this case, terrorism should be viewed as more than the reductionist mainstream media depiction of Muslim extremism; but rather, as any internal or external action.

Capitalizing on the former reductionist, parochial version of terrorism allows Canadian and American governments to continue supporting and engaging in what might otherwise be considered terrorist acts without having to face criticism or questions. The state justifies its own international (military) and domestic (police) terrorism as necessary to fight the version of terrorism they’ve helped create – one rooted in reductionist bias.

The J20 protests at Trump’s inauguration resulted in a record number of arrests and charges. Attorneys and activists both claim that no one expected a prosecutorial response so extreme, nor charges so unprecedented. Almost every arrestee was individually given their respective set of charges, to the point where 200 people were charged with the breaking of one bank window. The protesters were accused of “looking to incite violent riots,” among other questionable claims. Despite the hundreds of people killed overseas and locally by the state and state actors, the damaging to private property was the “violent and illegal” crime. Again, “violence” is applied selectively, chosen only when it threatens the regime. Many of the detainees from that day are still looking at a possible 60 years in prison.

Even relying or calling upon liberal conceptions of human and “legal” rights is limiting. The defense of the discussion should not be limited to what the state deems human or civil rights, as the state itself is founded on institutions of racist subjugation. Just because breaking a bank window during a protest is deemed “unjustifiable,” while drone strikes on innocent civilians in the Global South is “acceptable” and “legal,” this does not mean we should automatically assume one has greater legitimacy than the other.

The good protester/bad protester dichotomy is similarly flawed. This binary implies that once a “good” (read: lawful) protester crosses some arbitrary line into the “bad” category, the state can (and should) commit violence against them. The violence of the protester (no matter what motive or intentionality) is unacceptable to them; and the violence the state inflicts upon that protester is therefore justified. In an article for the Huffington Post, Indian author Arundhati Roy warns us against swapping the grand pursuit of justice for the far smaller demand of human rights. She writes: “Too often, these rights become the goal itself… Human rights takes the history out of justice.”

When Canada and America deploy their “fight for justice” overseas and domestically, is it rarely completely nonviolent. Governments are often very vocal about their terroristic military and police action and celebrate it as necessary and “acceptable” violence. Yet any even mildly violent movements within the country, against the state government, are quick to be labeled as egregious and reprehensible. Why do we unquestioningly accept the discourse around these protest movements? When do we recognize violent insurrection as an appropriate and measured response? Why do we continue to assume the government will listen to us? When do we realize that the government’s violence is more unacceptable than anyone else’s?

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In July 2016, Bresha Meadows, a 14-year-old girl in Ohio, allegedly killed her father, who had inflicted years of violent abuse on her and her family. Charged with aggravated murder, Bresha was criminalized for what many consider to be self-defense. She was sentenced to one year in juvenile prison (with 10 months served), six months in a mental health facility, and two years’ probation after her release. After months of active community mobilization, she was finally returned to her family on February 4, 2018.

Bresha is another survivor of the powerful connection between girls’ experiences of domestic and sexual violence and their forced entry into carceral systems. Once arrested, Black girls like Bresha face disproportionately high rates of incarceration, and once incarcerated, Bresha joins the 84% of girls in juvenile prisons who have experienced family violence prior to arrest.

There are currently around 41,000 adults in custody in the prison system in Canada, and roughly 2.2 million in the United States. The demographic makeup of this population has been a topic of discussion for over a century, and there are a number of reports that testify to the fact that almost all minorities (disabled, TLGBQ2S+, and racialized people) are overrepresented within prisons. Indigenous adults account for a quarter of all admissions to correctional services in Canada, despite only representing 4 per cent of the Canadian population. There are 70 per cent more Black and Brown inmates in Canada than there were ten years ago, and 48 per cent of TLGBQ2S+ victims of violence report experiences with police misconduct.

Many internationally renowned organizations, such as the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) and the World Coalition, publicly advocate for and endorse prison reformation efforts. These organizations often engage in activities such as improving prison conditions, working to diversify guards and police officers, and reducing racial bias. Many of these efforts are supported by the public, with a common, uncontested assumption that prisons and police are necessary institutions in a safe, democratic society. However, the illustrious and important history of prison abolition movements is often overlooked or ignored . For over a century, a vast number of different groups have been working towards dismantling the prison system, and trying to educate the public on why the prison system is inherently harmful and unnecessary.

10 per cent of the average police officers’ time is devoted to dealing with violent crime. The remaining 90 per cent is spent dealing with administrative infractions, such as where you must sit, eat, drink, drive etc. If two people pull knives on each other, it is statistically unlikely that the police will get involved or be called in time to prevent a crime for occuring. Not to mention, nearly 75 per cent of convicted prisoners are in prison for nonviolent crimes.

What’s more, 70 per cent of all prisoners in the U.S. have not even been convicted of a crime, costing 27.3 billion dollars a year. Unconvicted prisoners are being held in jail awaiting trial, 50 per cent of whom were not able to afford to post bail amounts of $2500 or less when first incarcerated.

The origins of the prison-industrial complex

The prison-industrial complex (PIC) is a term used to describe the overarching and interconnected systems that “use surveillance, policing, and imprisonment as solutions to economic, social and political problems.” The PIC operates to “maintain authority of people who get their power through racial, economic and other privileges.” By perpetuating deviant/criminal stereotypes of people of colour, TLGBQ2S+ people, Indigenous people, and economically disadvantaged people, the PIC both produces and reproduces its control. This system has been created and fine-tuned over many decades.

The origins of policing in the West can be traced back to cities like New Orleans and Savannah, where full-time officers in uniform were accountable to local civilian officials, and connected to a broader justice system. These early police forces were not designed as a watch system, however; they were instated to patrol enslaved people. These patrols violently enforced prohibitions on enslaved people holding meetings, harbouring fugitives, and learning how to read and write. From these informal  patrols emerged the professional urban police, who were in charge of managing the mobile urban enslaved population. Even after slavery was abolished, these patrols set the groundwork for materializing the modern-day police force. For many years after the civil war, police officers maintained racial inequality through incarceration and prosecution based on flimsy to nonexistent evidence. Local police also worked closely with (and were populated by)  groups such as the Ku Klux Klan.

The questions that must then be asked: who do prisons benefit? Who are the police working for?

Who does the PIC protect?

Modern day policing has technically distanced itself from its origins, but its legitimacy and means of operation must still be called into question. Critical investigation of the basic mission of the PIC reveals how the modern-day prison system continues to reproduce both classist and racist inequalities. Within a racialized, capitalist society, there are communities that are protected, and others that are policed.

The questions that must then be asked: who do prisons benefit? Who are the police working for? If you’re white, upper-middle class, cisgender, heterosexual, and able-bodied, the prison-industrial complex probably protects you. For the rest of us, not so much. Black, Indigenous, brown, TLGBQ2S+, and disabled communities all report feelings of unease rather than safety when they see police officers patrolling areas. With the threat of unjust arrest and incarceration, marginalized communities are right to be wary of the prison-industrial complex. Assata Shakur, a former member of the Black Liberation Party, writes: “Who are prisons for? They certainly aren’t planning to put white people in them. Prisons are part of this government’s genocidal war against Black and Third World people.”

Hundreds of reports reveal how economically disadvantaged people are more likely to commit a crime for survival and out of desperation. Furthermore, a critical analysis of criminal law in North America can make it very clear that most crimes are designed to police the poor. Under capitalism, the PIC maintains power and safety for the privileged in society by both igniting and perpetuating the oppression of marginalized communities.

In her book “Are Prisons Obsolete,” Angela Davis argues, “The prison […] functions ideologically as an abstract site into which undesirables are deposited, relieving us of the responsibility of thinking about the real issues afflicting those communities from which prisoners are drawn in such disproportionate numbers […] It relieves us of the responsibility of seriously engaging with the problems of our society, especially those produced by racism and, increasingly, global capitalism.”

Violence vs. non-violence

Many argue that perhaps the solution is to focus on prosecuting violent crimes rather than nonviolent crimes. Shouldn’t prisons still exist for violent, inhumane criminals? Yet invoking a violent/nonviolent dichotomy ends up being reductive, glossing over systemic issues. Take Bresha Meadows, for example. At face-value, she too was charged with a violent crime: aggravated murder. Ignored are the context and circumstances of those who are implicated in crime. Where was the judicial system when Bresha faced domestic abuse? Who protected her and her family from the crimes of her father? And who is benefitting from her incarceration? Bresha’s history of domestic and familial abuse was repeatedly ignored in her prosecution, as is common for communities whom predominantly white juries judge to be inherently violent, due to the deep-seated, racist history of the PIC.

This is what allows the system to solely prosecute and imprison marginalized communities. At its heart, the PIC is constructed to hide away racism, mental illness, and poverty instead of addressing them. White-collar criminals, businesspeople, murderous cops, and lawmakers molding racist structures continue to walk free because the PIC is simply not configured to criminalize them. Examining what is criminalized and what is not reveals the illegitimate core of the carceral system.

What does the PIC achieve?

“The War on Drugs” and the “War on Crime” are both systemically targeting non-white poor people, and increasing the percentages of their populations that are jailed. First and foremost, stigma and institutional oppression lead to marginalized groups being unfairly targeted by the entire PIC. Second, if non-white and/or poor people do, in fact, have higher rates of drug use and other crimes, the PIC does nothing to address the institutional and social processes that produce these statistics. Moreover, poverty exacerbates and increases crimes, as people are forced to find alternative methods of survival at the hand of capitalist hegemony. It is claimed that everyone has freedom and agency to make their own choices, but Angela Davis rightly asks: “if you are free in a political sense but have no food, what’s that? The freedom to starve?” Time and time again it has been proven that prisons do not have effective rates of rehabilitation or reformation, and do nothing to reduce crime rates. The PIC does not address systemic problems, such as racism or poverty, that result in marginalized communities turning to crime, and instead creates a place where they can be removed from the sight of white, privileged society.

Once imprisoned, a capitalist carceral system is designed to dehumanize prisoners, “to turn people into things.” Prisoners have no stable educational opportunities and widely insufficient living conditions; they are forced into labour; they are referred to by numbers rather than names. Devyn Springer argues that “a system rooted in that act of racist, capitalist thingification can never be reformed into allowing humanity of its subjugated people to exist or flourish. Along with this, realizing that in most cases crime is a social construct created by the arbitrators of socio-economic conditions, the need for prisons becomes, well, obsolete.”

Abolitionist Movements

For over a century, groups and organizations have mobilized against the PIC, in an attempt to both dismantle and remove the need for prisons and the carceral system. Organizations such as Critical Resistance, co-founded by Angela Davis, work to “end the Prison Industrial Complex by challenging the belief that caging and controlling people makes us safe.” Black and Pink, founded in 2004, is another organization that advocates for the abolition of the PIC, focusing and mobilizing around TLGBQ2S+ issues.

While many abolitionist groups do advocate for a physical, symbolic, and, if necessary, violent dismantling of all prisons, others maintain that abolition can be achieved through alternative practices. In general, abolition aims to build institutions that undo damage done by racist, capitalist structures, and work against them. By improving education as a form of resistance and mobilization to limit the scope of the PIC, we can render prisons useless and empty. The goal of many abolitionists is to create a society in which prisons are no longer used, or at the very least, are no longer the primary source of punishment/reformation for crime.

“A system rooted in that act of racist, capitalist thingification can never be reformed into allowing humanity of its subjugated people to exist or flourish.”

Abolition vs. Reform

When I first began engaging with criticisms of the prison-industrial complex, I thought, as many do, that prison reform was the way to go. There are many things wrong with the way prisons operate, but I never considered the possibility that they weren’t necessary. Yet it soon became apparent that arguing for prison reform presents many contradictions. Celebrating and advocating for murderous cops to go to prison or for the prosecution of upper-class businessmen stirs a feeling of unease. If these are the same oppressive systems that marginalize non-white, lower-class, and TLGBQ2S+ people, how can we continue to sustain their legitimacy? If we are trying to incite change, what does the continued advocacy and promotion of the use and abuse of these systems do? Why are we suddenly so supportive of the PIC and the state when oppressive men are on trial?

Time and time again it has been proven that prisons do not have effective rates of rehabilitation or reformation, and do nothing to reduce crime rates.

Ever since the first prisons were erected, the PIC has undergone near-constant reformation. Yet it remains systemically oppressive. Prison reform has continuously created “fairer” prisons, but only at the expense of increased surveillance and reach of the PIC. We are told that prison is a place where bad people go, yet by not abolishing prisons, we never have to ask further questions. Why did that person do that? Why is this person bad? Why are these types of crimes so common? Who are these people hurting?

By advocating for reform, we both accept and reinforce the necessity of a system that is built upon and stems from oppression. The system isn’t changing, so we must look for alternatives.

A common argument against prison abolition is one of replacement. What is the alternative to the police surveillance and prison containment? The authors of “Octavia’s Brood” claim that all movements for justice must start with the question: “what is a world we want to live in?” rather than, “what is a realistic win?”

Nobody claims to have a perfect solution or alternative to the prison-industrial complex. A common theory amongst abolitionists refers to “transformative justice” : a multi-pronged approach to crime in society. Transformative justice includes simultaneously coming up with individualized strategies to address abusive/violent behaviour and supporting targeted community members, as well as working to transform the political conditions that allow oppression and violence. This approach has shown to be effective in rehabilitation, while also addressing institutional problems to reduce crime rates.

The goal of many abolitionists is to create a society in which prisons are no longer used, or at the very least, are no longer the primary source of punishment, or even reformation, for a crime.

What you can do

Start thinking critically about the prison-industrial complex. Has it become obsolete? Who does it work for, and who does it work against? If you decide to support the PIC abolition movement, consider joining or donating to community organizations, like the Prisoner Correspondence Project (PCP) in Montreal, that are working to resist the PIC. It’s also understandable that as a university student, you often don’t have the time, money, or energy to physically/financially engage with activist organizations such as these. One new, affordable way to support abolition is through a software called Bail Bloc. Bail Bloc is a cryptocurrency scheme against bail that uses a small part of your computer’s unused processing power to mine a cryptocurrency called Monero. This cryptocurrency is then converted by the Bronx Freedom Fund to USD, and used to post bail for low-income people awaiting trial. While this does mean your Hydro Quebec bill might go up by a couple of dollars per month, the program can be adjusted to use more or less of your processing power, depending on your needs. If necessary, consider only running the program while your computer is plugged in at, say, McLennan Library. This way, although McGill’s hydro bill may rise, the university will finally be engaging critically in some of the institutions it has historically, implicitly supported.

The post Are prisons obsolete? appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Just before the new year, in Kerala, India, two hijras (gender non-conforming individuals) were walking home after dance practice at 2:30 a.m., when they were violently attacked by police officials. According to the hijras, the policemen stopped their vehicle, got out, and charged at the them unprovoked, and beat them as they begged for their lives. The hijras pleaded, saying they would die if the officers didn’t stop. Callously, one of the officers responded that they were better off dead.

Mamta Jasmine and Sushmita later filed a complaint at the town police station, wishing to press charges against the officers for the blatant wrongdoing. However, two days after, both hijras were charged for indulging in “immoral activities” under the Immoral Traffic (Prevention) Act, 1956, which forced them to rescind their charges for fear of further prosecution.

Hijras in South Asia live on the fringes of society, to say the least. In the past year, there have been countless reports of gender non-conforming individuals being attacked or discriminated against in India and Pakistan. They are denied employment opportunities and political participation, and often face rejection from their families. A study conducted in 2007 indicates that 44 per cent of trans women report facing physical abuse, and 36 per cent report experiencing sexual violence, yet little has been done to protect these communities from further oppression.

A large majority of hijras live in poverty, turning to sex work and begging to survive. Walking down the streets of Lahore, it doesn’t take long to be approached by a hijra on the streets, asking for money or attempting to sell a small product or craft. They often have no option but to spend their lives knocking on car windows asking for money, as even skilled hijras are denied jobs and excluded from the economic sphere.

The crisis that trans and intersex people face in South Asia is pervasive, but the region has seen more progress recently than some might expect. The treatment of non-normative identities today perpetuates the stigma that South Asian people are intolerant of the LGBTQ community. It is not uncommon even for McGill students to hold preconceived ideas about international students from this region, as they may be aware of the current maltreatment of marginalized groups in the Indian subcontinent. However, what is often neglected is the rich and vast history of trans people in South Asian history, a history that drastically changed due to British colonization.

Some of the most ancient texts in India acknowledge and accept a “third sex,” or persons not conforming to the male/female dichotomy. Jain texts even speak of “psychological sex,” which emphasized the distinction of psychological make-up from sexual characteristics. It is clear that identities diverging from the normalized gender binary were not uncommon and were in fact widely accommodated for. The Kama Sutra itself, dating back to 400 BCE, mentions the sexual practices of tritïya prakriti, a third gender.

In pre-colonization India, hijras were recognized as being neither male nor female, embodying a third gender. In modern society, the Western model would define them as trans women, yet this term is often contested as it does not always accurately describe the identity and experiences of hijras. In the ancient Indian epic poem Ramayana, Lord Rama, banished from his kingdom, turns to his followers and asks all the “men and women” to return to the city. The hijras among his followers do not feel this applies to them, and decide to stay with him. Rama, impressed by their loyalty, sanctions them with the power to confer blessings on people during auspicious occasions. Even today, it is easy to hear memories of a time when a hijra would be called into a house after childbirth to bless the child and its family, or when hijras would be commissioned to sing songs and prayers for weddings. They were revered for thousands of years, often seen as transcending the human form and being closer to Allah by the Indian community. Hijras were not only accepted but deified, occupying roles such as defending the holy places of Mecca and Medina.

During the Mughal Empire, hijras held important positions as political advisors, administrators, and generals. They had access to all public spaces and sectors, helping to build and maintain the empire. They also occupied high stature in Islamic religious institutions and were able to influence state decisions.

Then the British arrived, and, being the British, they ruined everything. Accounts of early European travellers showed they were repulsed by the sight of hijras, and could not comprehend why they were revered. During the era of the British Raj, colonial administration attempted to eradicate hijras, who were seen as “a breach of public decency.” They were placed under the Criminal Tribes Act, and as such, were subjected to compulsory registration. Through years of strict monitoring and stigmatization under British rule, hijras were pushed out of the social sphere. They began to lose their religious and political standing, as colonial mentality shifted cultural and ethnic beliefs. Homosexuality, which appears in ancient Indian literature and adorns Hindu temples, was also outlawed by the colonial administration. As British culture was enforced in India, so were its beliefs and values, leading to an ostracization of hijras that continues to this day.

Through years of strict monitoring and stigmatization under British rule, hijras were pushed out of the social sphere.

Post-independence India and Pakistan continue to suffer from cultural relics of colonization, which include the rejection of hijras. Many local laws today reflect the prejudice introduced by the British, leading to legal targeting of hijras through police violence and disproportional surveillance. Hijras, upon being denied many employment opportunities, frequently engage in sex work for which they are unfairly charged, as this is often the only means they have to make money.

Hijras in India and Pakistan now face a larger crisis than ever. Multiple NGOs estimate over half a million hijras live across South Asia, almost all of them having little to no employment opportunity or social support. Certain Sufi shrines still hold reverence for hijra communities, but outside of these areas, no respect is given. Landlords will often refuse to rent rooms to hijras, which leads hijras to form a tight-knit community in the few spaces they are allowed. By living in close proximity, hijras have begun organizing and mobilizing themselves for rights and liberation in response to this ongoing and neglected crisis. Since 2012, hijra rights activists have scored important victories, such as the addition of “hijra” as a category on ID cards and census forms in India and Pakistan, and the formal warning of police officers to cease harassment and intimidation. Just earlier this week, “hijra” was added to the gender identity section of the voter list in Bangladesh.

However, census recognition is not enough to combat the exigent crisis of violence that hijras face today. Brutality and employment discrimination show no signs of declining; representation and acknowledgement is just the first step in a long battle against this colonial legacy. NGOs from around the world have attempted to provide support for hijra communities, in the broader scope of LGBTQ aid. Unsurprisingly, this aid often lacks nuance and is alienating for the LGBTQ community in South Asia. By employing Western models of gender and sexuality, Western NGOs do not fully understand the history and complexities of the hijra identity, or of other non-normative identities in South Asia. Support for hijras must necessarily be decolonial to be effective, as using foreign conceptions of identity may end up being counterproductive and neocolonial.

By employing Western models of gender and sexuality, Western NGOs do not fully understand the history and complexities of the hijra identity, or of other non-normative identities in South Asia.

Hijra activist groups and grassroots organizations need to be recognized and supported in their liberation efforts. While the recent political recognition and protection of hijras is noteworthy, further decolonial efforts need to made to acknowledge and rectify the treatment of hijras as well as the roots of this oppression.

The post A(nother) colonial legacy appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Being vegan in Montreal is easy. Lola Rosa is right around the corner. Marché Eden has you covered for most groceries. The restaurant options are endless and are never more than a slight detour from your usual route. Your friends probably don’t even make that much fun of you. Besides the occasional hiccup, veganism is popular and prevalent.

Yet over time, I’ve noticed that veganism is actually a less feasible choice for many. The ways in which veganism isolates itself from marginalized individuals need to be addressed and rectified. When I say being vegan in Montreal is easy, I need to clarify: it’s easy, unless you’re lower-middle class, disabled, living in a marginalized community, or experiencing or recovering from an eating disorder.

I first decided to be vegan earlier this year for ethical reasons. I thought that fighting against systemic oppression must at some point include the fight against speciesism. I looked up vegan recipes, bought vegan groceries, ate vegan food, and eventually realized it wasn’t that hard. By spending time in “plant-based” restaurants and “health-oriented” grocery stories, I learned a lot about white vegan culture. I learned about the huge variety of reasons people choose to be vegan, and how passionate many vegans are about spreading their beliefs.

However, I also learned that veganism is constantly used to reproduce oppression. By constantly employing guilt tactics and propagandistic arguments to try and convince the public of the importance of veganism, many vegans homogenize humanity by ignoring the intersections between different forms of oppression.

Veganism and settler colonialism
Indigenous populations often have the most notable clashes with animal rights activists. Earlier this month, Indigenous communities gathered for an annual observance of the traditional Haudenosaunee deer hunt in Short Hills Provincial Park, and, as they have in the past, animal rights activists showed up in protest. Vegans are often insensitive to Indigenous traditions and history in their activism, and thus unknowingly reproduce settler colonialism by refusing to acknowledge their own participation in the oppression of Indigenous people. Many Indigenous nations are irreducible to supposedly normal “human society”, they view and treat animals differently. Animal rights activists ignore the fact that domesticated animals raised solely for their meat were rare in pre-colonization Indigenous communities, and that the human/animal binary didn’t exist as a concept for Indigenous people. But colonization twisted these facts, resulting in the perpetuation of misconceptions regarding Indigenous peoples’ treatment of animals. Without recognizing the role settler colonialism plays in the lives of both Indigenous communities as well as animals, veganism often fails to address the role colonization plays in animal mistreatment. A fight for decolonization is vital in the struggle to dismantle systems of oppression, and vegans must reconcile with that instead of choosing to target Indigenous communities for their supposed “cruelty.”

Cultural insensitivity
Veganism has also isolated itself as a white branch of the animal liberation movement, by refusing to acknowledge and cater to people of colour. The perception of the ‘classic vegan’ being white isn’t groundless. Vegan restaurants are more likely to exist in upper-class white communities, which already limits exposure and access for communities of people of colour. This limited access is a direct consequence of much of the oppression people of colour face, yet animal rights activists often shame people of colour for not being vegan.

Ignoring the lived realities of people of colour often leads to veganism being culturally insensitive. Many cultures use meat as a central ingredient in their dishes. White vegans are often unconcerned with this fact and try to reduce ethnic reliance on meat, leading to the appropriation and dilution of ethnic recipes. In a superficial effort to “increase awareness” of veganism, white vegans will cook vegan ethnic food to show how it can be done. In my short experience with ethnic vegan food, white-owned vegan South Asian restaurants have done more harm than good, as their insensitivity towards cultural and historical ties to food is alienating at best. “Veganizing” ethnic food must necessarily be the initiative of people of the ethnicity in question. It is also relevant to keep in mind that many ancient religious cultures have historically had large vegetarian populations, such as Jainism, Hinduism, and Buddhism, to name a few.

Ableist arguments
It isn’t just race and culture that vegans tend to be insensitive to. In many ways, vegan animal rights activists engage in ableist arguments and practices. The amount of times I’ve heard animal rights activists describe themselves “a voice for the voiceless” is uncountable, and is a prime example of the conflation of animality and disability. As Arundhati Roy writes: “There’s really no such thing as the ‘voiceless.’ There are only the deliberately silenced, or the preferably unheard.” Animals constantly express themselves; they might cry out with pain or gasp for oxygen. Assuming that the ‘voiceless’ cannot speak “betrays an ableist assumption of what counts as having a voice.” One of the arguments that convinced me to be vegan is directly intertwined with disability: the moral assumption that humans are valued over animals for their intellectual capabilities and higher-order thinking is ableist. There is no intellectual capability that all humans have but all animals do not. Not all humans are capable of higher-order thinking or of speaking a language. Does this assign them a lower moral value?

Upon reflection, this argument lacks nuance and perpetuates ableism. While animal liberation tries to destroy the human/animal binary, it too often relies on the instrumentalization of disabled people. When you compare the situation of animals to disabled people, you put disabled people’s moral value up for consideration. They have nothing to gain from this argument. By pitting the intellectually disabled against animals, vegans and animal rights activists imply that if animals go down, so should intellectually disabled people.

Veganism and food policing
Many arguments in favour of veganism advocate for its health benefits. Facebook videos of people roaming the streets to aggressively convince people to go vegan have gone viral recently, and are often quite troubling. Policing food can be triggering for many people, including those recovering from eating disorders. Watching people convince others of the “health benefits” of veganism and having someone tell you what you can and cannot eat is not something everyone is or should be ready for. Again, vegans and animal liberation activists must acknowledge this and be aware that some people need to take care of themselves first. Food shaming and policing is unnecessary and unhelpful.

The price of veganism
Vegan restaurants are often advertised as “healthy,” “raw,” and “organic.” The environment they create is one of “clean eating” and self-care. However, it’s easy to be turned off almost immediately by prices. Vegan restaurants often double the price of a meal by using locally-grown produce and organic ingredients. A simple take-out meal can be financially taxing, especially for students on a budget. This is particularly true for people of lower socioeconomic status, as it often not feasible for some to spend extra on plant-based products when animal products and byproducts are often cheaper and more widely accessible. Yet many privileged vegans continue to assume that fighting against speciesism “transcends” this barrier, ignoring the reality of classism and economic oppression. It is not uncommon for vegans to decline to acknowledge that class differences are an obstacle in becoming vegan, which ends up reproducing classism in many ways.

Not everyone has a position privileged enough to be vegan. Government programs often strategically place Intensive Livestock Operations — otherwise known as factory farms — near Black or Indigenous communities, making animal products readily available in these areas, and often forcing people of colour to work jobs in these facilities. Even crop farms tend to have a large number of marginalized and migrant workers, and are often subjected to low-wages and abuse. It is essential to recognize that not all plant-based products are “cruelty-free” when you consider the treatment of food/farm workers. “Food deserts,” areas with decreased access to fresh fruits and vegetables, are also characteristically in areas with low-income and minority residents, making veganism much less viable for marginalized individuals. To be an effective movement, animal liberation activists need to recognize how capitalism and white supremacy operate to oppress people of colour. Marginalized individuals are often not able to even consider being vegan, due to the structural oppression they face every day. Ignoring these systems of oppression will not further the animal liberation cause, only hinder it. Consulting movements such as anti-racism and anti-ableism can provide a deeper understanding of concepts such as violence and objectification, and ensures that one movement doesn’t negate or impede another.

For people dealing with systemic oppression and discrimination, veganism can often be the last thing on people’s minds. Instead of the “go vegan or go home” approach, animal liberation activists must acknowledge and participate in the fight against oppressive structures such as capitalism, white supremacy, and settler colonialism.

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Ciccariello-Maher is another victim of the far-right firestorm, one that is determined to silence leftist voices on campuses. He first received widespread notoriety in December 2016 when he tweeted satirically about the myth of White Genocide. A simple Google search is enough to find that White Genocide is a “figment of the racist imagination,” a conspiracy theory fearing that immigration, racial integration, and abortion will result in the “extinction of white people.” Despite the obvious humour, Ciccariello-Maher ended up in the crosshairs of multiple media outlets calling for his immediate dismissal. As a self-identified communist, it became increasingly clear that far-right forces were jarred by the “respectable” institution’s association with his radical politics.

Fundamentally, this is an issue of academic freedom. The death threats against Ciccariello-Maher should have been treated as threats made against the university itself; the university should have thoroughly investigated them and taken appropriate and incremental action. Instead, Drexel was swift in caving to the pressure of far-right media. To many, this came as no surprise. It is becoming increasingly common for radical leftist viewpoints to be quickly stifled, even more so when they are voiced by marginalized individuals. However, institutions and mainstream media still promptly come to the defense of violent right-wing academics in the name of academic freedom. A Princeton University professor was notably forced to cancel her public lectures after receiving death threats in response to her anti-Trump stance. Princeton representatives claimed they were aware of the threats, but did nothing to support her, mentioning that she was on sabbatical. Meanwhile, Robert P. George remains an honoured Princeton professor, despite his advocacy against abortion and same-sex marriage.  These trends are evident across the continent. The University of Toronto backs a transphobic professor, Virginia Tech continues to employ a neo-Nazi, and the State University of New York at Stony Brook continues to support a white supremacist Ph.D alumnus.

Sitting on committees and attending club meetings at McGill makes it apparent to me that some students often need to work much harder for their voices to be recognized, and when they are heard, they are more heavily criticized. At a recent meeting I attended, I noticed that a white student received praise for having an epiphany about the struggles of queer people of colour on campus. These struggles are real, everyday occurrences for multiple students who were part of the discussion, yet the white student was still centred in the subsequent conversation, as if he had unearthed a novel, revelatory idea. This event was one of many that demonstrate how privileged voices are often prioritized in discussions, their ideas offered the most time and space, even if marginalized people have been trying to communicate those same ideas for far longer.  Even in conversations about equity, it seems that those who are most comfortable sharing their opinions freely are those who have been encouraged to do so all their lives.

Reading about these stories made me ask myself questions I never thought I’d have to: Who listens when I speak? Who will defend my freedom to communicate my ideas?

Even within conversations about equity, it seems that those who are most comfortable sharing their opinions freely are those who have been encouraged to do so all their lives.

When a white person’s opinion is prioritized over the lived experiences of a person of colour, marginalized students are taught that their lives are secondary to the voices of white people. Structures of power such as institutional racism, residual colonial hierarchies, and racialized policing all contribute to the (intentional or unintentional) reverence of white voices. The message sent to marginalized students is clear: your experiences don’t matter. White supremacists have their academic freedom reassured, but educators like Stephanie McKellop, a UPenn teaching assistant, are having their classes cancelled for releasing strategies to encourage minority students’ participation (deemed “discriminatory towards white students”). This biased application of academic freedom reproduces power structures, further oppressing marginalized voices.

However, voices on both sides of these debates often falsely equate academic freedom with free speech. It is not ‘free speech’ that allows Ciccariello-Maher to pursue his politics at Drexel, or allows pro-Israel speakers to visit McGill. Whereas academic freedom ensures that academic authorities can pursue their interests free from outside influence, freedom of expression is a state-sanctioned right allowing individuals to speak their mind, as long as they do not incite violence. Free speech does not give anyone the right to a platform.

Guest speakers at McGill and universities around the world have survived student protests and outrage by calling upon free speech, which (according to McGill University ex-provost) must be upheld “no matter how reprehensible the message or messenger.” Yet neither free speech nor academic freedom is violated when a speaker is denied access to McGill, just as it is not violated when a newspaper decides not to print somebody’s pitch. Everyone has the right to speak their mind but it is fallacious to believe that this right is infringed upon if someone doesn’t hand you a megaphone. Free speech does not include the right to an audience.

Free speech does not give anyone the right to a platform.

Again, this false defence seems valid when discussing speakers (white men) with far-right politics. It’s the way hate-mongering speakers such as Richard Spencer and Milo Yiannopoulos gain access to dozens of universities, and the way no one speaks up when speakers from marginalized groups are overlooked. The conversation is thus less about free speech, and more about whose speech is protected and why.

When Douglas Farrow and Moira McQueen spoke at a panel at McGill earlier this year, they were both violently transphobic, misgendering students and promoting a diluted form of conversion therapy as an effective treatment for what they abhorrently referred to as “gender dysphoria.” This egregious conversation was not denounced by the administration at McGill, and no support was provided to any students who may have been troubled by the panelists. Protestors at the event were even criticised for stifling free speech and the “free flow of ideas” that academic freedom provides. Ironically, these marginalized students were accused of being intolerant, yet the blatant intolerance of the speakers was accepted as “intellectual inquiry.” Who can stop students, then, from denying a platform for speech they believe does not deserve it? As Ciccariello-Maher argues: “there’s nothing more radically democratic than thousands of students showing up and making it utterly impossible . . . for far-right speakers to enjoy the platform that a university provides.”

Systemic power dynamics benefit privileged voices. Racialized students often feel no desire to speak out on campus politics, knowing, consciously or subconsciously, that their speech will likely remain undefended and undervalued. This fosters a culture in which the voices that are least heard are the ones that have been ignored in the past. Meanwhile, white men often have no problem being loud and vocal about political issues: they are continuously assured that society will value, protect, and accommodate their voice. Without conscious encouragement for the voice of marginalized students, systemic oppression continues to be reproduced.

Free speech is discussed as fundamental to a democratic society, but for these discussions to be of any value, they must include a clarification of whose speech is valued and whose is not. The definition of free speech is twisted and conflated with academic freedom, which leads to the false belief that this freedom is being equally applied in every context. Within a systemically oppressive institution and society, marginalized groups consistently have their speech silenced and disregarded, and the only ones actually benefitting from this weaponized version of free speech are those with the most privilege.

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“Join X for an unforgettable experience helping the people of Z by doing Y! Come to our first meeting next week, where you can learn how to get involved.”
I arrived at one such meeting earlier this year, feeling unsure about what to expect. I had a general sense of unease, which I naively hoped would be put to rest by the forthcoming presentation. I patiently listened to five students describe the work their organization did internationally. As a student from Pakistan, a country rife with suffering and corrupted by the West, I hoped the meeting would tell me how I could do some unproblematic, effective work for countries struggling similarly. Within the first ten minutes it was apparent that this would not happen. Each sentence reminded me of NGO racism in Pakistan, or of aid agencies doing counterfeit, impractical work. Each PowerPoint slide made it clearer that the organization was more concerned with appearance than long-term change.

There are at least twenty-two clubs at McGill that represent non-profit organizations worldwide. Many of these clubs organize trips to “third world” countries (which I will refer to as the Majority World), trying to get the McGill student body involved in hands-on work. I am in no way attempting to indict all of these clubs; I simply want to call attention to a recent rise in NGO culture and discuss its effects, both on and off campus.

Arundhati Roy’s increasingly relevant essay “The NGO-ization of resistance” evaluated the ways in which non-governmental organizations are influencing resistance and altering the public psyche. NGO-ization refers to the recent flourish of non-profits throughout the Minority World, each with a different humanitarian mission. To some, non-governmental organizations are filling the gap created by a retreating state, and while some NGOs do provide real, material change, multinational non-profits are helping create a culture in which resistance itself is being redefined. NGOs now make up the fifth largest economy in the world, with the number of NGOs worldwide increasing by a factor of 280 in the last decade. This incredible rise is often cited as indicative of a rise in philanthropy. However, philanthropy and NGOs are in no way analogous.

First and foremost, vetting an NGO has become astronomically difficult. Reports on the corruption of non-profits in the Minority World continue to surface, while an estimated 77 per cent of fraud investigations never reach mainstream media. By receiving foreign aid and having to maintain appearances, accounts of corruption remain undisclosed in many cases. As a McGill student, joining a chapter of an international organization is often unnerving, as the money you help raise is arbitrarily sent to the organization with an expectation of unwavering trust as to where and how the money is used. The murky waters of NGOs arranged to siphon off grant money or as tax dodges becomes even less clear when it takes on the form of a university club.

McGill has notoriously used funds in irresponsible and damaging ways. Voluntourism at McGill results in a perpetuation of the White Saviour complex and often does more harm than good for the communities it seeks to aid. By acting in short-term, self-serving ways, Western students are often doing no more than satiating a need to be viewed as philanthropic. The money used on these volunteers could have been given to local, vetted businesses; simultaneously boosting the economy and recruiting professional, reliable work.

Even “reliable” NGOs that are not participating in voluntourism are frequently contributing to a reinforcement of racist and classist stereotypes. In simply describing a community, NGOs are often problematically condescending, painting a picture of utter powerlessness.

Students proudly presenting the work their organization does glorifies this behaviour, giving out what people ought to have by right and calling it “benevolence.” Students now feel superior by helping communities gain what they should already have, and regularly use a community’s struggles as padding for a resume. Talking to McGill students, club leaders, and even faculty, it’s apparent that the Western model of the Majority World is twisted and ubiquitous. As a non-Western student who regularly visits a Majority World country, reconciling my experiences with the perception perpetuated by NGO clubs is disconcerting at best.

Students now feel superior by helping communities gain what they should already have, and regularly use a community’s struggles as padding for a resume.

Even those who have heartfelt intentions often view the Majority World as a stagnant mass, devoid of any nuance or agency. By turning people into dependent victims, NGOs and NGO clubs create an image in which the Majority World is helpless: just waiting for an undergraduate student from PSYC 100 to help them out of their misery. This fosters a culture in which it is acceptable to respond with a look of pity, bewilderment, or fear when someone mentions their non-Western/non-rich/non-White home country or birthplace. With no recognition for the autonomy and diversity of more than half the countries in the world, it’s easy to see how NGOs have contributed to the normalization of these reactions. It’s easy to see how the flyer of an impoverished community or the face of a sad child helps to underscore racist and classist stereotypes, and how McGill students are made to feel like nothing can be done without their help.

Multinational non-profit organization boards have been consistently shown to lack representation and diversity, further perpetuating these stereotypes. Of the governing boards of this year’s top 100 NGOs (most of which conduct work in non-European countries), 67 per cent are of European descent, and less than 1 per cent are Indigenous. This lack of intersectionality is continually reproduced in the activities of the NGOs. Clubs proudly claim their aid is given “regardless of race, gender, or sexual orientation,” but projects focused on alleviating racism occasionally exclude or further oppress women of colour, disabled people of colour, LGBTQ+ people of colour, and more, by neglecting to recognize the intersectionality of experiences and identities. Similarly, NGOs focused on “women’s movements” often try to engineer a “single organizational expression” of their cause which can lack a diversity of interests and spatial locations.

Being a gay, racialized student, I couldn’t help but wonder if providing support “regardless of race, gender, or sexual orientation” was really the best solution. In a country struggling with state-sanctioned homophobia, was ignoring sexual orientation better than openly fighting for queer liberation alongside the NGO mission? Wouldn’t this simply allow homophobia to flourish, despite any necessary work the NGO did? Taking a political stance against acts of oppression seems crucial to provide any real change. Declining to mention the political climate of a country inevitably leads to an incomplete representation of a community’s needs and struggles.
By depoliticizing issues that are political by nature, NGO clubs can unintentionally transfer blame to the community itself. Self-described “apolitical” organizations may neglect to acknowledge the origin of a community’s suffering, and by doing so, imply that it is somehow the community’s fault.

By depoliticizing issues that are political by nature, NGO clubs can unintentionally transfer blame to the community itself.

Often, it is the community itself that can most effectively target its own issues. NGOs end up interfering with local resistance groups by dictating the agenda of support and employing local activists in the communities they wish to aid. Activism becomes an employable skill, and resistance becomes a career. While providing jobs, NGOs are also neutralizing the radical resistance movements that have traditionally been self-reliant. Local activism and grassroots movements are being submerged in a sea of well-intentioned but ultimately less effective NGOs. By better understanding the community and providing relief from the bottom up, grassroots movements are more likely than big charities to provide real, long-term change. Rather than signing up to join an unvetted NGO, supporting local activism is often the best route to make a difference. Grassroots groups also employ definitional intersectionality, recognizing that providing help for racialized communities is not independent from providing help for women or LGBTQ communities, and vice versa.

In this way, local/grassroots activism can provide help without alienating or neglecting oppressed groups. Many activists who would be otherwise involved in local resistance are now being employed by NGOs and can feel they are doing immediate, creative good. Arundhati Roy cogently argues: “Real political resistance offers no such short cuts. The NGO-ization of politics threatens to turn resistance into a well-mannered, reasonable, salaried, 9-to-5 job. With a few perks thrown in. Real resistance has real consequences. And no salary.”

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On June 28, thousands of people gathered in cities across India to protest a catastrophic wave of attacks on Muslims by mobs of upper-caste Hindus. Holding signs with the tagline #NotInMyName, the demonstrations stood in stark contrast to the government’s telling silence. At the centre of the protests in New Delhi, hundreds gathered around a stage to hear poetry, speeches, and discourse. Stories of the now astonishingly common shooting and lynching of Muslims and lower-caste Hindus were shared by families of victims. By demonstrating their anger, protesters hoped to send a message to the government and the world that this religious and caste-based violence would not be tolerated. Since then, the movement has been relaunched internationally, prompting more hashtags, music videos, performance art, and more. In India, however, protests and hashtags alone are likely futile.

The current Prime Minister of India, Narendra Modi, has been hailed by some as an economic reformer, credited with converting India into a global financial destination. However, this disguise is weak and transparent. Modi is less of an economist and more of a chauvinist, building himself from a groundwork of nationalist zeal.

In India, however, protests and hashtags alone are likely futile.

This foundation upon which Modi’s state has been erected is steadfast. Modi is the leader of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), home to the religious right and political subset of the Hindu fundamentalist group Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS). The RSS is a categorically Hindu nationalist organization, and has involved Modi since he was just eight years old. Historically, the RSS idolized fascists such as Hitler and Mussolini, and admired the way Nazism quickly built an economically stable state under the banner of patriotism. With this philosophy, the RSS covertly began stirring up hatred toward non-Hindus by blaming them for train wrecks and violence, arguing that religious and caste differences were the root of the problem. They have since created over 150,000 programmes covering health, education, and development to help struggling lower-class Hindu communities while simultaneously indoctrinating ethnic and religious majoritarian beliefs. Through these operations, the RSS has become the vanguard of Hindu nationalism, and has infiltrated almost every institution in India – including education, the judiciary, democratic ministries, and more. They are rewriting history textbooks and creating propagandist training camps to inculcate children with their cause. With astounding success, the RSS is purging Indian society of all leftist influences.

Since the beginning of his career, Modi has employed the RSS and its philosophy as a political tool. He was the chief minister of Gujarat during the riots of 2002, which accumulated over 1000 fatalities, most of them Muslims. Conveniently, the Gujarat violence happened close to election time and polarized the vote, propelling Modi into victory. Many reports accuse Modi’s police of deliberately inciting violence against Muslims and often leading the mobs of Hindus during these riots. By refusing to condemn the attacks and doing arguably nothing to stop the massacres, Modi has built his career on a culture of hostility, cruelty, and nationalism – a culture that has since been injected by the RSS into the institutional body of India. When asked later if he regretted what had happened to Muslims during the Gujarat riots, Modi responded that even if “a puppy comes under the wheel of a car, one feels sad.” Following the violence, the BJP was able to capitalize on the religious tensions created in Gujarat for years, allowing them to claim the majority Hindu vote in the general election of 2014. By using communal killing as a form of electioneering, Modi manufactured a climate in which his election was inevitable.

Modi is less of an economist and more of a chauvinist, building himself from a groundwork of nationalist zeal.

The other major party in Indian politics, the Congress Party, didn’t stand a chance. They quickly lost their sheen when compared to the reform proposed by the BJP. Their corrupt, high-society members were distasteful when compared to Modi, the supposed everyman. The Congress Party was forced into the background, and became virtually nonexistent in many parts of India.

The election of the BJP allowed aggression to grow exponentially. The Islamophobic violence occurring in India now is a new degree of terror. Muslims live in fear as hostility continues to grow – the recent murder of a 15-year-old Muslim boy has brought to light the severity of the problem: on June 22, Hafiz Junaid was stabbed to death at a railway station in Asoti, India over a seating dispute. The assailants flung his body onto the railway platform, as a crowd of 200 assembled near the attack. Junaid’s companions were also critically injured in the assault, resulting in an ambulance being called. However, the subsequent police investigation was almost immediately stopped in its tracks; of the 200 people on the platform, not one claims to see what happened. The police cannot find a single person who says they witnessed the murder or the aftermath. The corn-vendor whose shift coincides with the time of the attack says he wasn’t there. Neither the station-master nor the two staffers who went to investigate saw the event at which they were present. The post-master managed to be in two places at once: in his office from which he called the ambulance, while at the same time at home “relaxing”. Collectively, the entire crowd of Hindus at the train station chose to not see the event.

Analyses of this incident have discussed how Muslims are effectively being pushed out of the social body and denied access to basic humanity, as their murders and lynchings have been rendered a non-event. Through the exposé of Junaid’s stabbing, we can begin to understand that the days of the Gujarat massacres are long gone. In 2002, Muslims begged for their lives at the feet of Hindu mobs. In 2017, there is nothing to see. It is a terrifying revelation that crowds of Hindus can make the agentive decision to see and un-see the savaging of a Muslim boy. The vigilante Hindus across North India hunting Muslims for sport do not need to worry about witnesses: there will never be any. India has entered an era where ordinary Hindus do not feel any obligation to even acknowledge the presence of a Muslim boy. And Modi continues to look the other way, tacitly endorsing the attacks, while his silence is reproduced in the silence of right-wing Hindu citizens.

Reports of violence against non-Hindus are continuing to emerge, from the mob attack on a Muslim woman to the murder of a Muslim student leader. However, these reports barely scratch the surface; many assaults are simply not reported by any mainstream source. The lack of coverage is leading to a blanket of ignorance surrounding the violence, obscuring the severity of the issue.

With astounding success, the RSS is purging Indian society of all leftist influences.

Something needs to be done to halt the current trajectory of fundamentalism in India. Fear grips the political left, resulting in passivism instead of resistance. The protests taking place are commendable, but aren’t enough to face the silent, prevailing government. The fundamentalist philosophy directed by the RSS and the BJP has slowly saturated India, making resistance more difficult than ever. Battling and petitioning the government isn’t easy when the government controls most institutions.

Drastic steps need to be taken, and we need to be doing all we can to help and support Muslims and left-wing Hindus in their fight against Hindu fundamentalism. While more safe protests need to be orchestrated, resistance groups and left-wing media sources also need to be supported to ensure that the RSS’s influence and control is countered. Focusing on the violence is not enough – we must dismantle the system that cultivates it.

Support local left-wing organizations/news sources working against fundamentalism: The Wire, Scroll.in, Tehelka, Caravan Magazine, NDTV, Forward Bloc, Revolutionary Socialist Party (India). Help spread the word.

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