In this guest blog post, Arcia Tecun (Te Whare Wānanga o Tāmaki Makaurau/the University of Auckland) reflects on Dame Prof Anne Salmond’s comment about James Cook and white supremacy, arguing that the issues raised provide an entry point into larger conversations about anthropology and ‘race.’
When I read the comment on Cook and white supremacy by Salmond, I was reminded why, as a darker skinned person in anthropology, I am regularly asked and questioned by other dark skinned and Indigenous peoples what the hell I’m doing in anthropology. The sentiments I observed expressed are representative to me of broader issues about ‘race’ in anthropology. I don’t know Dame Salmond personally, I saw her in passing once, and I imagine she is a lovely person, so this is not aimed at her as an individual or at her life’s work. I firmly believe we are complicated, complex, and contradictory as human beings. The following is specific to some of the ideas in her post responding to Captain Cook, whiteness, and white supremacy as an entry point to a discussion on ‘race’ and anthropology. I do respond to these ideas directly however, which reflects my own sentiments to them because they are personal to me, and they carry historical baggage.
The first example from her post:
If everyone in Europe during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries had held fast to such doctrines, slavery would not have been abolished, and the Treaty of Waitangi would not have been negotiated.
For real!? This comment sounds to me like ‘we’ should be grateful for the ‘benevolent master’ who supposedly set ‘us’ free. As if captive and invaded peoples weren’t constantly resisting and causing havoc to colonial systems and societies, pressuring colonizers to adapt and negotiate. There are overt uprisings as well as subversive strategies throughout history up through today. When we think of these issues this way, we can see how multiple actors complexly participate in the construction and maintenance of systems of power, even if they don’t all benefit from them in the same way or at all. I personally don’t believe in ‘white superiority’ as the means for racialized colonial subjugation of darker skinned Indigenous peoples. Nope, even with catastrophic apocalyptic population declines that resulted in the America’s and Oceania after the initial invasion, which set in motion ‘colonial opportunity,’ the current modern racially coded hegemonies were still not possible in my view without help from local agents and local knowledge. Local people facing cataclysmic and acute change at times allied or assisted or were coerced into participating in the modern formation and construction of the racialized colonial systems that persist through today (ironically these systems screwed over those locals in the long run and offer no more than tokenism and relative power for their equivalents today). So, nah, the way I see it, people freed themselves and put pressure on modern systems of power to loosen their grips, and there were and are local agents complicit and involved in the process.
Next…
A blanket condemnation of all white people as ‘white supremacists’ runs the risk of simply reversing the condemnation of all non-white people as ‘barbarians’ and ‘savages,’ … In dealing with the mistakes of the past, it’s possible to enter into a spiral of anger, insult and mutual recrimination.
C’mon now, is this a ‘reverse racism’ claim?! Ironically this is expressing the fear of violence Gibson, Trundle, and Vaeau had already rightfully critiqued, stating:
Telling Māori to check their anger, to calm down, to use less radical language exemplifies a particular stereotype of the ‘angry Māori’ often used in the media to police, silence and marginalise protest, and, effectively, sanitise white supremacy.
Maybe there are some, few, who are out there that may express a desire to have a reversal of power to construct a bronze or ebony tower in place of the ivory one, but that in and of itself would only just change the colour of a white supremacist system in my view. Nah, dismantling the system of white supremacy and the hegemony of whiteness is not a project in “reverse racism,” and as long as people are hurting they gonna’ be rightfully angry (see Aamer, and 4:30-6:48). These sentiments make me feel similar to when people in our current political climate advocate for “both sides” or ask to find “middle ground,” which fails to point out how all sides and grounds ultimately serve the same systems of power that we are subject to today (e.g., white supremacist capitalist patriarchy, 4:30). What’s the middle ground between one’s own humanity as a darker skinned person in systems of white supremacy? Being a sub-human? Expendable? No thanks!
When it comes to anthropologists’ perspectives on ‘race’ or Captain Cook, they are not apolitical and they do not exist in a vacuum. As an anthropologist who is also rich in melanin and part of a broader white supremacist society, these are not distant ideas and debates, they have very real and personal impacts. When it comes to these issues, I don’t just talk about them, I live them. Intent and individualistic focused arguments that don’t advocate for the decentring and ultimate dismantling of harmful systems of power just don’t do it for me.
I’m going to move on now to the bigger issue I see that I would like to comment on, which is the racial tensions in anthropology. If we in the social sciences and arts can’t come to see beyond individualistic intensions and don’t have a complex understanding of white supremacy and its culture, or the pathology of whiteness in the societies we live in, or how it is part of our disciplines, organizations, and institutions, then sh*****%, there’s no hope for any of the other disciplines lol. One thing I have learned about political identity is if you are fixed in it, nobody can change your mind on issues tied to that identity, and it takes work, struggle, and humility to change if you desire to. I’m of the belief that it is better to be real about who you are and what your position is, while being understanding of shifting contexts, and having flexibility for change.
What set you claim? Where you from? These are phrases I learned in the working-class community I grew up in. It’s a place where they would keep the darker skinned peoples segregated, before it started to get gentrified. I grew up in ‘white’ Utah (US), in the urban capital, on the west side of the train tracks; where the river is polluted; where the airplanes are allowed to fly overhead; where cops are abundant; where corner stores and fast food outnumber the access to fresh foods that are affordable; and where the power plants burn and smoke up the sky. It’s also where resilient people are found; where public intellectuals abound; where artists create on public canvases; where bomb foods are made and shared; where stories are transmitted between generations; and where different backgrounds merge and collaborate, and so much more. I may be a nerd, but I’m one that grew up in the hood, and there’s an important lesson about integrity and transparency in the questions, ‘what set you claim?’ and ‘where you from?’. Let me clarify though, the question, ‘where you from?’ is not ‘where are you from?’, which is when someone is really asking you why you aren’t white, which is an all too common question asked of darker skinned and ‘other’ folks within white supremacist settler colonial nations. Instead, ‘where you from?’ like ‘what set you claim?’, is about who you are and who your peoples are (who are in you relation with), what neighbourhood or territory you represent, and what set of values you claim or uphold.
Privileged academic spaces can regularly and arrogantly assume that there is such a thing as ‘objectivity,’ imagining that one’s claims are not culturally or historically located and part of one’s identities. In the case of anthropology, my experience is that ‘objective’ distance is at times used as a strategy that is implored to avoid facing or answering the questions, ‘what set you claim’ or ‘where you from’. Knowing and asking these questions is part of the politics of decolonial and Indigenous anthropology from my point of view, which is not an assumption that other anthropologies are apolitical in their complicit stances, but rather that an alter-native route is transparent about its political position and identities. This includes the who that are involved, being transparently reflexive of who one is and how one is culturally and politically located, especially in public discourse. While I read the back and forth by anthropologists in Aotearoa/New Zealand regarding Captain Cook and white supremacy on this blog, I observed a tension between different colours/sets/where people are from in Anthropology. Now, because I’m here in this time and space, I’ve got some stuff to say too. I have a friend from a different hood than mine who would say, “they should’ve never taught us how to read,” referring to our inconvenient identities in academic spaces.
My feelings in anthropology as a cishet urban diasporic Mayan who is Mormon and who grew up with and mostly works with Pasifika folks includes many layers, but in academia it is similar to bell hooks when she shared that:
Like so many radical black folks who work in university settings, I often feel very isolated. Often we work in environments predominately peopled by white folks (some of whom are well-meaning and concerned) who are not committed to working to end white supremacy, or who are unsure about what that commitment means (2014: 117).
‘Race’ is a problem in anthropology and non-white anthropologists are at times ‘othered’ and alienated due to behaviour by anthropologists themselves. Warren & Kleisath (2019) have argued that some of the reasons why anthropology has largely evaded participation in critical race studies is that it is dismissive of ‘race’ because it is seen as an ‘unscientific folk category,’ and because the majority of anthropologists are ‘white’ themselves. They also indicate the defensive feelings many white anthropologists react with when confronted with systemic views of white supremacy that reveal it is far more than just saying the n-word or overt expressions of racial hatred. Gibson, Trundle and Vaeau explained:
Whiteness and white supremacy are systems and structures, built on the idea of race, that exist locally and globally. Whiteness, white privilege, and white supremacy are commonly subconscious, sometimes subtle, and not always easy to see. They can hide behind kind words about ‘inclusion’ and ‘progress’ and ‘diversity.’
DiAngelo (2011) defines the phenomenon and characteristic of ‘white’ defensiveness as ‘white fragility.’ This fragility is derived from insulated intellectual and physical environments that reinforce an isolated ‘racial comfort’ that is assumed to be universal, which lowers the ability to tolerate ‘racial stress.’ She explains that when white folks are racially identified and named it can yield defensive moves such as anger, fear, guilt, argumentation, silence, and more. She emphasizes that issues of ‘race’ are everyone’s issues and are not exclusive to ‘non-white others.’ This is particularly relevant, considering that anthropology is still viewed by many as white public space; defensive when being labelled as a face of colonialism; something that white people like; which is not gonna’ get your back if you’re a darker skinned person; and that is argued needs ‘us’ more than ‘we’ need it. Historical conflict is racialized, and contextualizing anthropology to place, Aotearoa/New Zealand as a society also has its own baggage and tradition of white fragility (see here, here, and here). While I have lived in Aotearoa/New Zealand I have often confronted a sentiment that ‘race’ is a US thing or an Ozzie issue, and certainly my experience here is that ‘race’ is not a mainstream conversation. However, it has recently emerged in public discourse to say, ‘this is not us,’ trying to distance the recent tragic racist and Islamophobic terrorist attack as not part of NZ culture and life, even though it is us.
‘Race’ is messy, contradictory, constantly shifting, problematic az, arbitrary, and primarily based on assumptions made from observing visible differences in our phenotypes such as skin colour, hair texture, or eye shape. Yet, ‘race’ is something I cannot avoid because of what I look like and what we have inherited living in this time. ‘Race’ is therefore part of my identity and who I am whether I like it or not. I am aware of my skin colour in different ways all of the time, and sometimes I face the consequences of ‘racial battle fatigue’. Because of this stress, and particular survival strategies I was socialized with growing up, I have at times in my life been a gatekeeper for white supremacy by tone policing myself or the content I share. At the same time when I don’t police my tone or content on issues of ‘race’, I am often responded to with the sentiment, ‘why don’t you just get over it.’ I recall the late Blackfoot elder Narcisse Blood and his brilliant response to this statement, ‘wouldn’t that be nice.’ As if ‘we’ could get over it when a knife is still in ‘our’ back and therefore has not been able to heal (Malcolm X). In order to dismantle the ongoing harm and legacies of white supremacy Anisha Sankar has argued:
Now is the time to demand sophisticated and nuanced analysis of power and white supremacy. We need to be able to point to problems, name them, and refuse to be gaslit into believing we as individuals are the problems, or that our problems are separate from the structural creation of them.
Ibram Kendi has explained that:
‘Racist’ and ‘antiracist’ are descriptive terms. They describe what a person is saying or doing in a moment. People change from moment to moment. That’s more accurate, and it’s more reflective of the complexity of people as it relates to race and the complexity of humans in general. We live with contradictions.
Non-racism will continue to perpetuate racism and white supremacy, and we all can be both racist and anti-racist in different moments. The challenge is if we are willing to be uncomfortable and brave enough to identify racist thinking and contest it with anti-racist action.
Gaber, Jaber and Anglem (2013) explain that skin colour is intrinsic in how people construct themselves and others and argue it is necessary to consider “the role that whiteness plays in determining a sense of our own identity and the identities of others” (86). They add that not doing so risks obscuring NZ’s colonial past and the power dynamics that exist today that are entangled with ‘race’. Anthropology, like the rest of academia, continues to grapple with the system of white supremacy in many ways, including the lack of Māori and Pasifika scholars, and other ‘others,’ both in physical presence in faculties and canonical literatures in disciplines.
So, why am I still in anthropology? Why do I even bother taking the emotional labour, energy, and time to write this? Well, because I care. And, because it is less emotional labour for me to share this post with the various links embedded in it to introductory resources, than being mined for information. Anthropology is like an awkward family member that puts me on edge when it is racist (among other flaws). Yet, it’s family and we’re connected (sometimes quite literally with all the knowledge that comes from my and ‘our’ ancestors in it, would it exist without ‘me’ or ‘we’?). I agree with Zoe Todd’s call that we must seriously engage questions of how we treat one another and the worlds we want to build collectively, which includes no longer allowing “abuse, exploitation, racism, and sexism to parade as markers of ‘rigorous’ anthropology”. Instead, we must remake anthropology into what it needs to become, which includes possibly abandoning it or aspects of it to create something else. bell hooks (2014) is helpful for me in this process by stating:
Fundamentally, it is our collective responsibility as radical black people and people of color, and as white people to construct models for social change…If as a black person I say to a white person who shows a willingness to commit herself or himself to the struggle to end white supremacy that I refuse to affirm or help in that endeavor is a gesture that undermines my commitment to that struggle. Many black people have essentially responded in this way because we do not want to do the work for white people, and most importantly we cannot do the work, yet this often seems to be what is asked of us. Rejecting the work does not mean that we cannot and do not show the way by our actions, by the information we share. Those white people who want to continue the dominate/subordinate relationship so endemic to racist exploitation by insisting that we “serve” them—that we do the work of challenging and changing their consciousness— are acting in bad faith…It is our collective responsibility as people of color and as white people who are committed to ending white supremacy to help one another. It is our collective responsibility to educate for critical consciousness. If I commit myself politically to black liberation struggle, to the struggle to end white supremacy, I am not making a commitment to working only for and with black people, I must engage in struggle with all willing comrades to strengthen our awareness and our resistance (118).
Additionally, Ashanté Reese has powerfully argued that ethnographic power comes from the margins, sharing that “Elsewhere disrupts our understanding of fixed geographic and intellectual positions …[and] requires that we read, research, and write differently.” We bring elsewhere with us as a generation of dark-skinned and Indigenous peoples who are multi-disciplinary, mobile, and with multiple literacies beyond the written canons (e.g., oral, musical, digital, online, etc.). Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote in his letter from Birmingham jail, “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere…whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
What set you claim? Where you from? I’ll see you on the dark side of anthropology.
