OFF 1NC---T FW Interpretation: The affirmative should defend the desirability of a policy action that the United States should vest legal rights and/or duties in one or more of the following: artificial intelligence, nature, nonhuman animal species. ‘Resolved’ means to enact a policy by law. Words and Phrases 64. Permanent Edition. Definition of the word “resolve,” given by Webster is “to express an opinion or determination by resolution or vote; as ‘it was resolved by the legislature;” It is of similar force to the word “enact,” which is defined by Bouvier as meaning “to establish by law”. ‘United States’ means the federal government. Ikuta 10 [Sandra; December 8; Circuit Judge for the United States Court of Appeals in the Ninth Circuit; Ninth Circuit, “Transwestern Pipeline Company, LLC v. 3.42 acres of permanent easement located in Maricopa County et al,” Lexis] We disagree with the last step of Agua Fria's analysis. When determining statutory meaning, we look first to the plain meaning of the text. Paul Revere Ins. Grp. v. United States, 500 F.3d 957, 962 (9th Cir. 2007). "[U]nless otherwise defined, words will be interpreted as taking their ordinary, contemporary, common meaning." Perrin v. United States, 444 U.S. 37, 42, 100 S. Ct. 311, 62 L. Ed. 2d 199 (1979). "When determining the plain meaning of language, we may consult dictionary definitions." Af-Cap Inc. v. Chevron Overseas (Congo) Ltd., 475 F.3d 1080, 1088 (9th Cir. 2007). Taking its ordinary, common meaning, the term "United States" means our nation, located primarily in North America, which acts through our federal form of government. The dictionary definitions are consistent with this common understanding. See, e.g., 19 Oxford English Dictionary 79-80 (J.A. Simpson & E.S.C. Weiner eds., 2d ed. 1989) (definition 1b: "The Republic of North America"); Black's Law Dictionary 1675 (9th ed. 2009) ("A federal republic . . . made up of 48 coterminous states, plus the state of Alaska and the District of Columbia in North America, plus the state of Hawaii in the Pacific."). 3 The Act does not define the term "United States" and does not indicate that we are to read the special definition of "Federal agency" from § 4601(1) into the term "United States." Accordingly, we decline to do so, and adhere instead to the common understanding of the term "United States." Given our interpretation of the term, the landowner's right to costs and fees is triggered only when the federal government abandons a condemnation proceeding, not when a private entity such as Transwestern does so, even if that private entity is exercising federally granted condemnation power. 4 Agua Fria contends that Tennessee Gas Pipeline Co. v. 104 Acres of Land, 828 F.Supp. 123 (D.R.I.1993), aff'd in part and vacated in part on other grounds, 32 F.3d 632 (1st Cir.1994), supports its contention that the term “United States” includes Transwestern for purposes of § 4654(a)(2). We disagree. In Tennessee Gas, a private gas company, acting under FERC's authority to acquire property for a pipeline, dismissed a condemnation proceedings it had brought against a landowner after FERC approved a change in the pipeline's route. Id. at 124–25. The district court held that, under these circumstances, it would deem FERC to have abandoned the proceedings for purposes of § 4654(a)(2). Id. at 128. The court therefore concluded that the landowner was entitled to litigation costs and fees under § 4654(a)(2) “whether or not Tennessee Gas is an entity within the term ‘United States' as used in the statute.” Id. In other words, Tennessee Gas avoided the very point Agua Fria claims it supports.5 5 “If the plain meaning of the statute is unambiguous, that meaning is controlling and we need not examine legislative history as an aid to interpretation unless the legislative history clearly indicates that Congress meant something other than what it said.” Greenwood v. CompuCredit Corp., 615 F.3d 1204, 1207 (9th Cir.2010) (quoting Carson Harbor Vill., Ltd. v. Unocal Corp., 270 F.3d 863, 877 (9th Cir.2001) (en banc)) (internal quotation marks omitted). Agua Fria has not pointed to any legislative history that contradicts the plain language of the statute. Rather, the House Report on which Agua Fria relies indicates that § 4654(a) was intended to reimburse property owners for fees and costs incurred “where (1) the court determines that a condemnation was unauthorized, [or] (2) the government abandons a condemnation.” H.R.Rep. No. 91–1656, 91st Cong.2d Sess., reprinted in 1970 U.S.C.C.A.N. 5850, 5874–75 (emphasis added). This interpretation is consistent with the plain language of the statute and does not suggest that Congress intended to make fees and costs available when a private party abandons a proceeding. Further, Congress made no changes to the term “United States” in § 4654(a)(2) when it changed the definition of “Federal agency” to include private persons. See Uniform Relocation Act Amendments of 1987, Pub.L. No. 100–17, § 402, 101 Stat. 132, 246. Had Congress wished to include private persons in the meaning of the term “United States,” it clearly knew how to do so. See Landgraf v. USI Film Prods., 511 U.S. 244, 255–56, 114 S.Ct. 1483, 128 L.Ed.2d 229 (1994). Because we adhere to the plain meaning of the term “United States” in § 4654(a)(2), and that term does not include private entities, we affirm the district *1272 court's denial of Agua Fria's motion for litigation costs and fees.6 ‘Vest’ requires the force of law. Dwyer 16 [Stephen; May 16; Judge on Court of Appeals of Washington; Westlaw, “Braun v. Selig,” 194 Wash. App. 42] 23 As evidenced, “vest” is used in a variety of related ways in common parlance. Thus, “vest” means, in one respect, “to place or give into the possession or discretion of some person or authority.” This is a right of a particular type: “a legally fixed immediate right of present or future enjoyment.” Stated differently, the authoritative and discretionary power of the word is conveyed by the definition, “to grant, endow, or clothe with a particular authority, right, or property.” To state that “vest” means “to become legally vested,” although somewhat circular, is consistent. These various definitions establish that the focus of the word “vest” is on the discretion given to a person or group of persons to make a decision respecting a “particular authority, right, or property.” Further, the right granted is immediate and legally enforceable, and pertains to “present or future enjoyment.” In this way, the right to control burial circumstances that “vests” under subsection .160(3) is a perpetual right. Topicality is key to limits and ground---redefining portions of the resolution permits endless reclarification AND creates incentives for avoidance---only aligning research with agent and mechanism solves. Three impacts: 1---Fairness---an unlimited, unpredictable topic disparately raises the research burden for the negative -- treat this is a sufficient win condition because fairness is the logical structure that undergirds all impacts AND controls any benefit to debate. 2---Clash---forfeiting government action sanctions retreat from controversy and forces the negative to concede solvency before winning a link -- clash is the necessary condition for distinguishing debate from discussion, but negation exists on a sliding scale -- that jumpstarts the process of critical thinking, reflexivity, and argument refinement. 3---Education---Our interpretation can harness legal education to understand the law’s strategic reversibility paired with intellectual survival skills that help us navigate and contest violent structures. This is the most plausible internal link from debate to meaningful social and political agitation for social justice. Archer ‘18 (Deborah N., Associate Professor of Clinical Law @ NYU School of Law, “POLITICAL LAWYERING FOR THE 21ST CENTURY,” draft, pp. 1-43) *Edited* Many law students are overwhelmed by injustice. When faced with the reality of systemic inequities, even the most committed students may surrender to hopelessness, despair, and inaction. This is not because they have stopped caring about injustice, but because they cannot envision a path from injustice to justice. Many do not have the tools to navigate systemic injustice or respond to interwoven legal and social ills. This article contends that although clinical legal education provides an excellent opportunity to offer students the skills, experience, perspective, and confidence to grapple with today’s complex social justice issues, it has not sufficiently responded to the changing educational needs of our students by teaching law students how to most effectively utilize litigation alongside other tools of systemic reform advocacy. How can clinical education prepare law students to navigate issues of systemic discrimination and injustice? Clinical teaching’s signature pedagogical vehicle involves students providing direct representation of individual clients in straightforward, manageable cases in which students cases train students to be creative problem solvers for individual clients. However, this model does not effectively prepare students to address and combat focus on discrete legal issues, take full ownership of the case, and see it through from beginning to end.1 These structural or chronic inequality. The individualized model also provides relatively limited opportunities for students to address the intellectual and skills-based challenges of lawyering on a larger scale.2 Complex cases allow students to explore the complicated relationship between justice, law, and politics.3 They introduce students to many of the skills needed to integrate rebellious or political lawyering into their practice, including working with others to brainstorm, design, and execute an advocacy strategy; helping to build and participate in a coalition; engaging in integrated advocacy; and analyzing the outside forces that help shape outcomes, including organizational capacity, challenges of enforcement, and potential political backlash.4 There is a longstanding and ongoing debate within the clinical legal education community about the relative merits of small, individual cases versus larger impact advocacy matters.5 The parameters of this debate, coupled with an influential body of clinical scholarship criticizing impact litigation and the lawyers who bring it,6 have led the clinical teaching community to overreact to these critiques by moving farther away from impact advocacy and strategic litigation rather than working to reconcile the legitimate concerns with the critical importance of impact advocacy as a tool for both systemic social change and legal education. Law schools also face internal and external pressures that affect their willingness to engage students in strategic litigation. The result is that important benefits of impact advocacy Twenty years ago, social justice advocates rallied around political lawyering as a tool for more effective advocacy on behalf of marginalized communities.7 Political lawyering employs a systemic reform lens in case selection, advocacy strategy, and lawyering process, with a focus on legal work done in service to both individual and collective goals.8 While litigation is central to political lawyering, political lawyers recognize that litigation, interdisciplinary collaboration, policy reform, and community organization must to proceed together. Litigation is just one piece of a complex advocacy puzzle. However, clinical law professors have never fully grappled with how to employ this model.9 Law professors today seeking to train the next generation of social justice advocates should expose students to the transformational potential of integrated advocacy—strategic litigation, community organizing, direct action, media strategies, and interdisciplinary collaboration proceeding together—in the fight for social change. Political lawyering can serve as a model. The NAACP strategy of building comprehensive advocacy campaigns to challenge racial and economic injustice helped to launch the political lawyering movement in the last century.10 But political lawyering in the 21st century needs to do more. It needs to re-embrace and update the concept of integrated advocacy to help lawyers leverage a broad range of tools and perspectives to generate effective approaches to issues of injustice, both nascent and chronic. Charles Hamilton and strategic litigation have gotten lost or minimized. Houston, the architect of the strategy to challenge the racialized policy of “separate but equal,” whose life work challenged racial injustice in novel ways, famously explained that “a lawyer’s either a social engineer or he’s a parasite on society,” defining social engineer as a “highly skilled, perceptive, sensitive lawyer who understood the Constitution of the United States and knew how to explore its uses in the solving of problems of local communities and in bettering the conditions of the underprivileged citizens.”11 Law schools should set as an ambition teaching students to push boundaries in diagnosing and tackling the most pressing problems facing society. The Article proceeds in three parts. Part I discusses political lawyering and explores its potential to serve as a framework to teach students the legal and extra-legal advocacy skills necessary to tackle the complex challenges of systemic injustice and inequity. Part I also discusses the institutional barriers that limit the ability and willingness of legal educators to exploit the pedagogical potential of a political lawyering framework, including the idea that litigation is often harmful to the cause of justice because it puts the lawyer ahead of the community being served. Part I then examines whether the choice that clinical legal education makes to teach through small, single-issue cases rather than through more complex vehicles offers students sufficient opportunities to develop the array of skills needed for integrated advocacy. Part II describes the ways that clinical legal education can reframe political lawyering as political justice lawyering, both to adapt to the current environment—complicated by the current partisan political climate—and the contemporary challenges of social justice advocacy. It also explores pedagogic strategies that clinical legal educators can employ to train effective 21st century social justice lawyers. Finally, Part III presents a case study from my own teaching to elucidate the opportunities and challenges inherent in this approach to clinical teaching. I. POLITICAL LAWYERING AS A FRAMEWORK FOR LEGAL EDUCATION “Social vision is part of the operating ethos of self-conscious law practice. The fact that most law practice is not done self-consciously is simply a function of the degree to which most law practice serves the status quo. Self-conscious practice appears to be less important, and is always less destabilizing, when it serves what is, rather than what ought to be.” - Gary Bellow12 In 1996, the Harvard Civil Rights-Civil Liberties Law Review published a symposium on “political lawyering”: a model of social justice advocacy that integrates legal advocacy and political mobilization by linking courtroom advocacy to community education, mobilization, and organizing.13 The symposium, honoring Gary Bellow, a leading political lawyer of the time and one of the architects of clinical legal education, explored the potential for political lawyering to respond to the social justice challenges of the moment.14 At the time of the symposium, progressive scholars and activists believed that America was in a period of retrenchment on civil rights and were in search of sources of hope.15 In the face of waning public support for the poor and disenfranchised, both financially and philosophically, one of the biggest dangers social justice advocates faced was despair about the possibility of progress.16 Bellow contended that the nation’s ideological reconfiguration created a potentially debilitating doubt among lawyer-activists who, faced with declining avenues for change, had “embraced a far too constricted definition of both the possible and desirable in law-oriented interventions than is, in fact, dictated by the rightward turn of national and local politics.”17 With victory harder to achieve, he insisted that lawyers who embraced and reimagined political lawyering would advance the fight for equality more effectively. The purpose of political lawyering is not to advance a particular partisan agenda: It is to represent disenfranchised communities against the forces of oppression.18 While difficult to define precisely, political lawyers take a politicized and value-oriented approach to legal work done in service to both individual and collective goals,19 embracing “politics” in the classical sense as a concern “with what it means to be human; what is the best life for a human being; and . . . the ways in which we can order our living together so that good human lives will emerge.”20 Practically, political lawyers use a systemic reform lens in decisions about case selection, advocacy strategy, and the lawyering process. Political lawyers think about the relationship between law, politics, and justice21 and use the law to animate fundamental change in society, to alter the allocation of power and opportunity, and to enable those individuals and communities with little power to claim and enjoy their rights.22 Political lawyers also take advantage of opportunities to influence the perceptions and behaviors of those in power.23 Finally, political lawyers empower individuals and communities by providing them with competent legal advocacy,24 but do not confine themselves to one mode of advocacy in their quest for structural change. Instead, political lawyers use integrated advocacy strategies, including litigation, legislative advocacy, public education, media, and social science research, assessing the efficacy and impact of each tool in service to a long-term visions of equality and solidarity.25 A. A ROLE FOR POLITICAL LAWYERING IN CLINICAL LEGAL EDUCATION In his essay, Gary Bellow described several examples of his experience as a political lawyer.26 He reflected that: Certainly, if one focuses on the strategies employed in these examples, few uniformities emerge. In some of the efforts, we sought rule changes or injunctive relief against a particular practice on behalf of an identified class. In other situations, we pursued aggregate results by filing large numbers of individual cases. Some strategies are carried out in the courts. At other times we ignored litigation entirely in favor of bureaucratic maneuvering and community and union organizing. Even when pursuing litigation, we often placed far greater emphasis on mobilizing and educating clients, or strengthening the entities and organizations that represented them, than on judicial outcomes. And always, we employed the lawsuit, whether pushed to conclusion or not, as a vehicle for gathering information, positioning adversaries, asserting bargaining leverage, and adding to parallels between the challenges social justice lawyers faced in the 1980s and 1990s and those that law students committed to social justice 28 face today are evident. As discussed earlier, law students’ own despair about the enormity of the fight for justice can compromise their ability to recognize and tackle chronic injustice. Like the earlier generation of political lawyers Bellow described, many law students today find it difficult to believe in the possibility of change let alone its likelihood. Inexperience challenging systemic legal problems exacerbates their skepticism. They recognize that the advocacy tools they have learned are insufficient to solve today’s problems, which fuels their sense of doubt. To help expand their understanding of what may be possible, law students, particularly those interested in continuing the fight for racial justice, should be taught to understand and embrace the goals, strategies, and tools of political lawyering—re-imagined for current times. the continuing process of definition and designation that occurs in any conflict.27 The Clinical professors need not adopt political lawyering wholesale as the only or primary approach to teaching lawyering skills and legal advocacy. Indeed, one of the challenges social justice advocates face is unnecessarily limiting the understanding of what it means to be a good lawyer. Rather, clinical professors should explore political lawyering as one framework they can use to help struggling law students find direction and inspiration, as well as to create a Doubt and defeatism, the sense of overly pessimistic assessments of action possibilities, are recurrent experiences in oppositional politics, whomever the political actors may be. They require hard-headed assessments of what works and why; a willingness to relinquish strategies and goals born of different possibilities and particularities. . . . Doubt and defeatism produce powerful spirals that can only be broken by acts of will and leaps of faith.29 To be an effective political lawyer, an advocate must have a “profound willingness and ability to learn about and respond to the complexity sense of connection to the work of the social justice lawyers who preceded them. As Gary Bellow wrote: of real human beings in ever-shifting legal, economic, and social worlds.”30 So, while political lawyering is certainly grounded in effective legal advocacy, it demands more than conventional legal skills. The political lawyer values deep personal involvement as a necessary component in addressing and tackling legal issues. That personal engagement can take many forms, but, at a minimum, involves countless conversations, collaborative brainstorming, comparing shared experiences, and adding empathy and commonality to enhance the legal analysis and political judgment.31 It also requires lawyers to advocate with a clear vision of what justice looks like because effective political lawyering “reache[s] not only across large numbers of people, but from the present into some altered version of the future.”32 Learning to combine savvy legal analysis with broad engagement, a deeper understanding of the complexity of the problems faced by impacted communities, and envisioning an altered and more just future can help lead to real solutions and overcome passivity and paralysis.33 The Civil Rights Movement, with its blended advocacy strategies, pulling a variety of levers to enable immediate or systemic change, offers one example of political lawyering. Visionary leaders helped give voice to the frustrations and demands of the community, while other leaders acted as tacticians to devise, plan, and coordinate the strategy.34 There were sustained and strategic protests to draw public attention to injustices, demand change, and apply political pressure. The strategic use of litigation led gradually to the establishment of the building blocks for systemic change. Finally, civil rights lawyers worked to enshrine litigation victories in legislation.35 While the goal of political lawyering is to empower and advance the rights of disadvantaged communities, the lawyers who engage in it also reap significant benefits. One scholar effectively articulated some of these benefits utilizing religious terms, asserting that political lawyering can provide hope and direction to advocates by providing a “faith”—“a story, an account of a rational hope that provides people with an image and principles for realizing the sort of lives they ought to live.”36 Political lawyering can also provide what Christians refer to as a “gospel”—a story that explains and inspires.37 The faith and gospel of political lawyering can help lead law students who are overwhelmed by injustice to a place of deeper understanding and more effective advocacy. But law students must learn how to understand, Complex social justice problems offer robust opportunities to teach students about the law and lawyering, and legal clinics serve as an important vehicle to bring that set of issues and experiences into the classroom.38 As law schools reevaluate the nature and function of legal education in light of market forces,39 they should also give attention to articulate, and deploy that faith and gospel in service of others. B. INSTITUTIONAL CONSTRAINTS ON POLITICAL LAWYERING the role of justice in the curriculum and the potential for law school clinics to be centers for incubation of new and evolving models of lawyering. By embracing political lawyering and encouraging engagement on complex and novel social justice issues, clinical legal education can operate as a “generator of new visions for legal practice” on behalf of poor and marginalized communities.40 Of course, that choice is not without hurdles or concern. 1. Ideological, Financial, and Pedagogical Pressures When clinical and experiential learning programs have moved away from an access to justice model—with a focus on the immediate challenges facing individual clients—to a broader social justice model focused on systemic reform and community empowerment, they have often encountered criticism from inside and outside of the legal academy.41 First, critics have raised concerns that integrated advocacy in support of systemic reform may elevate the profile of faculty and law schools but detract from an appropriate focus on the educational goals of individual students.42 Others have identified the potential for violating the separation between pedagogy and partisan politics.43 And still other critics have identified a risk that faculty will impose their personal political perspectives on their students.44 As discussed in more detail below, integrated advocacy strategies can, in fact, serve as valuable clinical teaching tools that promote broader student learning and support important pedagogical goals. By contrast, exclusive reliance on individual representation offers limited opportunities to teach essential lawyering skills, including the skills critical to identifying and challenging systemic injustice.45 Every clinical program makes a political decision in deciding which cases to take or not to take, as each decision has political implications.46 Accepting cases in criminal justice, immigration, environmental justice, and international human rights, for example, involves political choices, regardless of whether the issues are addressed through individual representation or systemic reform efforts.47 Clinics will continue to represent individual clients who are the victims of poverty, discrimination, and disenfranchisement. These cases do not suddenly become inappropriate teaching tools because the lawyer aggregates those claims and utilizes complementary strategies to seek systemic, community-wide redress. Lawyers must be free to use all available means to challenge the marginalization of their clients, including strategic litigation, legislative advocacy, and other advocacy strategies designed to achieve systemic reform. If law schools intend to fulfill their promise to prepare law students to tackle urgent and pressing challenges, then they must teach students to identify and address interlocking legal and social problems. Still, while law schools have educational ambitions, they also face financial demands that might affect their educational choices. In fact, those financial realities may motivate schools to avoid disputes that expose them to financial risk and to a potential loss of good will that a clinic’s involvement in controversial cases might occasion.48 While that institutional concern certainly has merit, it is not unique to political lawyering on behalf of clients. Whenever a law school chooses to represent clients, there is the potential for someone to take issue with the school’s choice of side or client. Similarly, law schools may experience external pressures from government, private entities, donors, and alumni to prevent the use of law school resources to challenge powerful corporate or government interests.49 These critiques evoke the successful challenge to Legal Services Corporations engaging in class action litigation on behalf of their clients50 and the long history of efforts to limit the means through which clinics can represent their clients.51 History is replete with examples of external attacks on law schools’ clinical efforts. From the 1968 attack by state legislators on the clinical program at the University of Mississippi School of Law over its involvement in a school desegregation suit,52 to the early 1980s threats to limit the activities of the University of Connecticut’s criminal defense clinic after the clinic successfully challenged a provision of the state’s death penalty statute,53 to the 2017 decision of the University of North Carolina Board of Governors to defund the law school’s Center for Civil Rights’ work to challenge systemic and racialized barriers to equality, law schools have experienced public scrutiny and scorn for their client and case selection decisions. A clinical faculty member’s case selection decisions should not be without limits or guidelines. For example, limited resources and specific pedagogical objectives will necessarily dictate which cases will be considered appropriate. However, making case selection decisions on the basis of pedagogical choices differs fundamentally from decisions based on ideological pressure from outside forces. The latter raises fundamental questions of academic freedom and other professional responsibilities.54 Clinical faculty members must maintain some independence to choose cases and clients that meet that clinic’s educational and public service goals.55 2. The Anti-Litigation Bias Political lawyers have long embraced litigation’s potential to achieve “radical extensions of democracy, equality, and racial justice” in addition to structural and cultural change.56 Law reform and structural change are important aspects of political lawyering.57 Accordingly, impact litigation on behalf of marginalized people and communities has long been an important tool for political lawyers.58 Indeed, the NAACP’s fight against racial segregation and inequality in the 1940s and 1950s represents an early example of political lawyering that strategically deployed litigation as part of a comprehensive effort to resist oppression and advance equality.59 Political lawyering never embraced an exaggerated belief that litigation should be the centerpiece of the fight for equality.60 Instead, like the advocates at the heart of the NAACP’s desegregation strategy, political lawyers “recognized that litigation, interdisciplinary collaboration, and community organization had to proceed together.”61 In the late 1990s and early 2000s, political and cultural shifts affected the strategies many political lawyers employed. New federal restrictions on the use of impact litigation and legislative advocacy by legal services lawyers were a cause of significant concern.62 Where impact litigation remained a possibility, many political lawyers worried that litigation offered a dangerous path. Although federal courts, in particular, had proved supportive in the fight for racial justice in the 1960s, progressive lawyers in later years worried that a more conservative judiciary was just as likely, if not more inclined, to set back progressive movements.63 This concern proved correct, particularly in the area of racial justice. Decades of conservative appointments to the federal bench64 led to a series of legal setbacks65 that effectively limited the federal courts as a venue for the redress of illegal discrimination.66 Many advocates also believed that while progressive lawyers were toiling away in the courtroom and achieving only minor success, conservative advocacy groups had mastered the more efficacious strategy of building powerful grassroots constituencies.67 As courts increased their hostility to civil rights and racial justice, making victory and progress more difficult, political lawyers turned away from litigation and began focusing on alternative methods to fight for social change.68 While the labels have changed, the fundamental purpose of the work remained the same. Political lawyering gave way to rebellious lawyering, community lawyering, and movement lawyering.69 These models of advocacy embrace different visions of advocacy that may vary in the emphasis placed on the law’s comparative advantage relative to other strategic methodologies and tools.70 But, they all acknowledge the bond that joins client, community, and lawyer together in a common enterprise: empowering those without power and fighting for justice and equality. The de-emphasis on strategic litigation brought real benefits. It encouraged lawyers to work as members of a team, and challenged lawyers to ensure that those marginalized by injustice played a central role both as the focus of the advocacy and as participants in the advocacy, a positive turn regardless of the motivation.71 This evolution came at a cost. What began as a tactical de-emphasis on litigation evolved into a philosophical bias against litigation as a social justice advocacy tool.72 Initially, social justice lawyers turned away from impact litigation because they feared that an increasingly conservative judiciary would use these cases as an opportunity to further roll back prior gains. However, with time, the reluctance to pursue litigation became less a reaction to circumstance and more a matter of principle. Some writers argued that litigation is a tool through which lawyers usurp the authority of already marginalized clients by setting their priorities for them.73 And, they claimed that litigation disempowers communities because of the unbalanced power dynamics between social justice lawyers and marginalized clients.74 An example is the dialogue around rebellious lawyering, one of the most prominent models for social change advocacy. Gerald López conceptualized rebellious lawyering as an advocacy model that would empower poor clients through grassroots, community-based advocacy that was facilitated by lawyers.75 Rebellious lawyering emphasizes concepts of community organization, mobilization, and “deprofessionalization.”76 It calls on lawyers to reflect on critical elements of the attorney-client relationship that may further oppress members of marginalized communities.77 Through rebellious lawyering, Professor López advances the belief that although lawyers should help solve problems facing the poor, lawyers are not the preeminent problem solvers in that relationship and should defer to clients and communities.78 Gerald López prefers that lawyers focus on “teaching self-help and lay lawyering” to empower communities to help themselves.79 Professor López espoused his positive vision of rebellious lawyering as an alternative to what he calls regnant lawyering.80 Professor López asserts that regnant lawyers are convinced that they need to be the primary and active leaders in their representation of poor people. Regnant lawyers find community education and empowerment to be of only marginal importance.81 The result is that the regnant lawyer dominates the attorney-client relationship, giving little voice to the needs or concerns of the client. Finally, Professor López also believes that regnant lawyers have little practical understanding of legal, political, and social structures.82 Rebellious lawyering raised important questions about the role litigation should play in social justice movements. Gerald Lopez was certainly skeptical that “legal technicians” could make a meaningful contribution83 and questioned whether lawyers turned to litigation because it was best for the client or because the lawyer wanted to play “hero.”84 All political lawyers should ask themselves these questions when considering impact litigation as part of integrated advocacy on behalf of marginalized communities.85 But, over time, commentators began to equate regnant lawyering with impact litigation.86 Some social justice advocates argued that impact litigation perpetuated racism because white lawyers used it as a tool to impose their views on communities of color.87 Others advanced images of litigators as outsiders who used poor communities as guinea pigs in their social justice experiments, warning that “practicing law in the community is not a tourist adventure and, therefore, we must eschew the routine of the autonomous, interloping advocate who dreams up cases in the home office and then tests them on the community.”88 Litigation, and systemic reform litigation in particular, became synonymous with regnant lawyering: an “enemy” of social justice and not a tool fit for people committed to fighting for enduring social change. Derrick Bell advanced one of the most prominent and influential critiques of litigation.89 Although he acknowledged the success of the first decade of school desegregation litigation, Professor Bell questioned the lack of lawyer accountability to marginalized communities. According to Professor Bell, NAACP lawyers continued to employ an advocacy strategy that focused on structural school desegregation, even while many members of the Black community preferred a strategy that would have focused on building quality, though segregated, neighborhood schools.90 He cautioned that social justice advocates failed to acknowledge growing conflicts between what they believed were the long-range goals for their clients and the client’s evolving interests and needs.91 In the end, many members of the impacted community were left feeling marginalized. Professor Bell also suggested that “civil rights lawyers, like their more candid poverty law Certainly, many lawyers who use litigation as a tool for social change are regnant and paternalistic, but these qualities are not inherent in litigators working with marginalized communities.93 Social justice advocates should have a healthy skepticism about the ability of the law, standing alone, to achieve lasting social change.94 They should always engage in advocacy that moves the client from the margins to the center.95 But, advocates should also resist pressure to narrow the definition of what it means to be a great lawyer. The discussion of social justice advocacy far too often collapses the framework not only of political lawyering, but all advocacy on behalf of poor and marginalized individuals and communities, into one that largely rejects the important role that strategic litigation has played and can continue to play in the fight for social justice. The ubiquity of the anti-litigation narrative encourages progressive law students—and many clinical law professors—to dismiss litigation and its potential for challenging bias and discrimination. Many progressive law students are afraid to become the professionals they envisioned they would be.96 They do not want to become the discrimination tourist derided in the literature. In response to the critique of social justice litigation, there is a growing body of scholarship supporting the conclusion that litigation is a key strategy for protecting and expanding the rights of marginalized communities.97 This body of scholarship acknowledges that litigation has played a critical role in the struggle for justice and equality, and that it continues to be “an imperfect but indispensable strategy of social change.”98 Finally, these scholars examine colleagues, are making decisions, setting priorities, and undertaking responsibilities that should be determined by their clients and shaped by the community.”92 social justice litigation in the context of the tradeoffs of different forms of activism, evaluating its potential in relation to available alternatives and revealing a new understanding of the link between law and social justice reform.99 The demonization of strategic litigation that persists in many progressive lawyering circles not only contributes to student paralysis, it gives them a false sense of what it means to engage in systemic reform litigation on behalf of clients and the community. Many prominent critiques of impact litigation neither provide an accurate depiction of the potential of that litigation, nor educate students on how to apply principles of political lawyering to that litigation. Indeed, while Derrick Bell prominently critiqued the role of strategic litigation in social justice movements, he also believed that litigation can be an important means of calling attention to perceived injustice; more important, . . . litigation presents opportunities for improving the weak economic and political position which renders the black community vulnerable to the specific injustices the litigation is intended to correct. Litigation can and should serve lawyer and client, as a community-organizing tool, an educational forum, a means of obtaining data, a method of exercising political leverage, and a rallying point for public support.100 Law students should be taught that lawyers who engage in systemic reform litigation, just like any other lawyer, can and should work with and on behalf of those victimized by discrimination. Indeed, despite the one- dimensional picture often painted for law students, not all progressive lawyers believe that “self-help” should be Moreover, despite the image of the “interloping advocate who dreams up cases in the home office and then tests them on the community,” not all progressive lawyers believe that it is inappropriate for lawyers to independently analyze social justice issues and develop ideas about ways to use the law to bring society closer to justice. Indeed, “it is artificially constricting to conceive of lawyers as exclusively or primarily problem-solvers. [Lawyers] are not only social mechanics who wait in [their] shops for people to come to [them] with problems to be fixed. [Lawyers] should sometimes create problems. [Lawyers] should sometimes deliver problems by translating people’s anger and hurt and insistence on justice into political as well as legal action.”102 Many great advocacy ideas bubble up from the community, but equally valid ideas can come from advocates who have been working with and for those communities (or are members of the community themselves). Progressive advocates must be prepared to provide legal assistance to clients even when those clients do not wish to be active participants in the advocacy. That is embracing the core meaning of client-centered lawyering. Rather than being taught to avoid litigation at all costs, progressive law students need to learn how they can partner with victims of discrimination and be accountable to those victims in the context of litigation. They need to learn the skills of collaborative leadership in law.103 Advocates should also be careful about advancing a one-size-fits-all model of advocacy,104 lumping everything together under the “social justice advocacy” moniker or work on behalf of the “poor and disadvantaged” and assuming that one advocacy approach will work to solve all problems. Sometimes using “social justice” to refer to all of the work being done on the focus of lawyering on behalf of poor or marginalized communities.101 behalf of poor and marginalized communities is the right thing to do—it unifies all of those who are fighting injustice on varying fronts. But, it can be harmful when discussing what advocacy tools will be most effective. Given the many forms that discrimination takes and the many communities subject to discrimination, law professors should caution students to be suspicious about broad generalizations about what clients always need or do not need, and what lawyers always should or should not do. There is no universal theory about how to represent disadvantaged or marginalized people. What works in the fight for economic justice may not be the best strategy to achieving racial justice.105 And what may be appropriate to help one victim of racial discrimination may not work for another. There is room for all types of advocates and advocacy. OFF 1NC---Dalit K The Dalit is in the constant positionality of imprisonment---masked dehumanization, exploitation and domination of the “untouchable” ordained as the “other”. Das 17 (, S., 2017. Religious Discrimination, Conversion and Dalit Emancipation. Remarking An Analisation, 2(7), pp.48-50. Associate Professor, Deptt.of English, Berhampur University, Odisha, https://drive.google.com/file/d/1AdsDKkUl0T9RENfpgltbR1cxkCbZDDGW/view?usp=sharing)-rahulpenu The Dalit are imprisoned by fate and their birth. Social hierarchy demanded that they live forever in the fringes of society suffering inhuman conditions endlessly, until Ambedkar was determined to fight for Dalit rights in the twentieth Century. This paper proposes a sociohistorical research to look into Babasaheb Ambedkar‟s endeavour, in the early twentieth century, to revive Buddhism, and initiate mass conversion, whereby, a vision of Dalit emancipation could be ensured. Disillusioned by the pain, pathos and ills of society Buddha had severed his links with the society and religion of his birth forming and propagating a new way of life altogether, which was non-discriminatory and doctrinated principles of life, later known as Buddhism, which would help the practitioners to accept the harsh reality they encountered within the dogmatic moralising of Hindu caste system and oppressive Christianity. The aspect of Buddhism that Babasaheb Ambedkar envisioned for the Dalits was emancipation through community and participation possible only through self knowledge and induction into Sangha or community thereby, to build a formidable post-Hindu Buddhist Sangha to face challenges towards Dalit empowerment. This is Ambedkar‟s vision of Buddhism which would show the Dalits a path to regain their human dignity The age old practice of Hinduism based itself on the division of labour. The social hierarchy was formed according to the work each individual was assigned as a means of livelihood. Individual duty gradually became a family profession leading to the formation of guilds which later took on the nomenclature of caste. In the mainstream of Hindu life, according to the records of the agents of history, a class of people assigned with the duty of [to] serving others were relegated to the margins and called shudras. They were rendered untouchable. The Untouchables or Dalits are a marginalized class victimised by the hegemonic Brahministic „ideology of caste.‟ This Hindu upper caste ideology was used as an instrument to dehumanize, oppress, exploit and dominate the Dalit in India. In the context of domination, Antonio Gramsci, Berreman and Althusser have rightly observed that oppression, dominance and hegemony is an ideology through which the dominant class is able to create a faction in mainstream society and is able to reproduce its class domination. Aim of the Study Caste politics and hegemony in India over a long period of time has pushed the Dalit into the margins of society forcing them to accept their fate as the ordained “other”. The Dalit have suffered immensely, both physically and psychologically, under the Brahminical religious tyranny. They passively accepted their social position and economic condition until Babasaheb Ambedkar, in the early twentieth century, protested the religious domination of the Hindu and envisioned a better life for the Dalit through conversion to Buddhism, which was egalitarian by nature. This problematic has been discussed in this paper which proposes a sociohistorical research to look into Babasaheb Ambedkar‟s endeavour, in the early twentieth century, to revive Buddhism, and initiate mass conversion, whereby, a vision of Dalit emancipation could be ensured. Siva Nagaiah Bolleddu‟s book Writing the Self (2015) analyses the Dalit movement in India. In this book while discussing autobiography of some Dalit writers, he talks about the first radical Dalit protest movement in India which was led by Jotirao Phule (1827-1890) in the nineteenth century. Another writer, M.K.Naik, in his book A History of Indian English Literature (1982) has discussed the political agenda of Indian nationalists who have merely redefined Hinduism with a modern face and subtly reinforced caste hegemony by expressing in their work that caste plays a kernel role in Indian society, yet underplaying the actual experience of the Dalit in cultural encounters. Raja Sekhar Vundru in „Buddha as Untouchable.‟ (www.Countercurrents.org 19 October 2006), observes that the Jataka tales point towards the fact that the only way to counter discrimination is determination and enlightenment that one could achieve through education and communion. And that Buddhism is a way out of suffering and subjugation. [Omitted Page 49] The Outcaste, the autobiography of Sharan Kumar Limbale, corroborates the tale of humiliation, agony and hunger. Limbale was born in the Mahar community of Maharashtra, and is one of the most renowned Dalit writers today. He bears the stigma of illegitimacy and in his autobiography narrates his most shocking experience as an illegitimate child born of a Mahar mother and an upper caste Lingayet father, who, though he enjoys sex with his mother, refuses to acknowledge that Limbale is his son. He recounts his confusion as a Dalit illegitimate child, when, one day the teacher decided to enrol him at school and asked him his father‟s name. He says, “I did not know my father‟s name. Strange that I too could have a father!”(45). He worries about his mother, Masamai, who has been mortgaging herself to one owner after another and being used as a commodity suffering the tyranny of sex. Limbale‟s humiliation multiplies when the Sarpanch refuses to sign his application form. In agony he writes, “I too was a human being. What else did I have except a human body? But a man is recognized in this world by his religion, caste, or his father. I had neither a father‟s name, nor any religion, nor a caste. I had no inherited identity at all.”(59) The anger of exclusion burns through the discourse in The Outcaste. Limbale writes, “ I was afraid of my caste because I couldn‟t claim my father‟s caste and religion. In a sense I was not a Mahar, because highcaste blood ran in my body. Could I drain this blood out of my body? My own body nauseated me. The agony I lived through is my own as much that of my village.” (82) Questions perplex him: “How is a person born with his caste? How does he become untouchable as soon as he is born? From his feet Lord Brahma gave birth to a vast low-caste community. Since then this community has been living as untouchables. To appease their hunger they steal, beg, fetch dead animals, and eat them. What is wrong if one who has been deprived of bread for thousands of years, steals bread just once? If one had enough why would one steal? Why would one suffer at the hands of the police?” (82-83) Hunger is depicted as another predominant theme in The Outcaste. Limbale narrates a dehumanizing incident at school. After a picnic the teacher asked the upper caste students to collect the leftovers and give it to the Dalit students. The upper caste students laughed and joked but the Mahar children had their eyes on the bundle of leftovers. Limbale writes, “Mallya carried a bundle of bhakari on his head and we, the Mahar boys, followed him excitedly like hungry vultures... Our stomachs were as greedy as a beggar‟s sack.” (3) Hunger, humiliation and denial of dignity and education form the saga of Dalit existence. Bama‟s autobiography Karukku also re-states or corroborates the same theme. Bama was born in Tamil Nadu into a Dalit family who had converted to Christianity. In Karukku she has exposed the discrimination and dehumanization that the Dalits were subjected to by the Christian Church. Christianity operates upon the principles of love, compassion, sacrifice, humanity and equality. But the Dalits who had converted to Christianity in India saw a different face altogether. Bama writes, “they [people in the convent] intimidated me by talking of „obedience‟ and „faith‟. They insisted I could go only where I was sent, I must only do as I was told. They exhorted me to see with the eyes of faith. All I could see was their authority flying high like a flag. People like me were to be sacrificed in order to maintain it.”(114) People belonging to lower castes were demeaned and looked down upon. Bama had to camouflage her identity for the fear of being humiliated and ostracised. She would shrink into herself as she did not have the courage to tell her peers that she was Dalit. She knew that they would then stop talking to her. In fact she was afraid of how they might behave towards her. She was mortified by the hypocrisy of the Christian Priests and notes some of the things they said about Dalits: How can we allow these people to come into our houses? In any case, even if we were to allow them, they would not enter our homes. They themselves know their place.‟ „There is nothing we can do for these creatures. We shouldn‟t do anything for them. Because to do so would be like helping cobras.‟ Even if we were to do something for them, they will never make progress.‟ 115. Shocked at this casteist attitude of the Christian Priests Bama wonders, “What service can people with such tainted minds render?” (115) The angst of the Dalit protagonist is expressed through her experience of pain. Pain becomes an inciting and unifying factor that binds the community together in a fight against caste discrimination and serves to reaffirm and strengthen the link between the individual and the larger Dalit community. Sarah Beth in one of her research papers observes the need of the Dalit to write their autobiographies. She says that it is “a form of political assertion ... giving Dalit entrance into a public space through identity based narrative authority” (9). While dominant Indian society narrates Dalits as „inferior‟ and „polluted,‟ the Dalit writers weild the narrative authority to describe their own life and life of their community to re-write selfhood. Critics like M.K.Naik (An Indian Out-caste 1951) and Bolleddu (Writing the Self 2015) have cited the political agenda of Raja Ram Mohan Ray and Gandhi who have merely redefined Hinduism with a modern face and subtly reinforced caste hegemony by expressing in their work that caste plays a kernel role in Indian society, yet underplaying the actual experience of the Dalit in cultural encounters. Bolleddu calls Gandhi and Nehru socially and politically conscious figures who have trivialised caste and have overlooked it. He argues that “Gandhi has romanticised his upper caste prestige and prejudice. He foregrounded his caste history.... Apart from his caste dominance he has revived the Hinduism and has strongly established the modern paradigm of Hindu nationalism through his political activities”. (22) He further argues that “Gandhi has vehemently opposed and contorted Dalits‟ interests”.(22) As a case in point he cites portions from Gandhi‟s Autobiography, My Experiments with Truth (1927) and shows that Gandhi was against religious conversions that the Dalit resorted to by way of social emancipation. The Dalit writers and activists reject Gandhian philosophy and accept Dr B. R. Ambedkar as a source of inspiration. Nimbalkar, a contemporary Dalit writer, talks about Ambedkar‟s philosophy which, he claims, was not restricted to Ambedkar himself or anyone in particular. “His thoughts contained a graph of progress of the people at the grass roots of the society”(18). Ambedkar believed that Gautama Buddha revolted against the unjust class structure ofthe Hindus and thus, revitalised Dalit community and turned it towards self-respect. The affs creation of relational assemblages trades off with the foundational relationality queer Dalits have to caste-based dichotomies---"genres of humanity” are unintelligible for the untouchable. Upadhyay 20, Nishant, Hindu Nation And Its Queers: Caste, Islamophobia, And De/Coloniality In India, Department of Ethnic Studies, University of Colorado Boulder, Boulder, CO, USA, https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.1080/1369801X.2020.1749709?casa_token=OI8nWujYfD8AA AAA:bc_oSADapzb_RCq8-gEhi0Ig1qgIlJyBn7hYtD5MZvzRl1rh0BAd7bHnfmo0MglcgJHK3s73nHUAAA The 2018 Indian Supreme Court judgement decriminalizing homosexuality has been marked as a “decolonial act.” Section 377, which criminalized homosexuality, was a colonial law introduced by the British in India, which the postcolonial state maintained till 2018. The judgement may be “decolonial” in intent, but there are other simultaneous processes at play which are not so decolonial in praxis; this essay argues these processes are colonialism, brahminical supremacy, and Islamophobia. Caste-based violence is integral to Hinduism and intertwined with other matrices of oppression, making caste foundational to any claims of Hinduism as queer, trans and gender nonconforming friendly. Studying recent Hindu nationalist responses in favour of decriminalization of homosexuality in India, this essay traces how the Hindu Right deploys queerness to propagate its Islamophobic, casteist, and homohindunationalist agendas. The essay argues decolonizing the law, state, and sexuality would also mean annihilating caste and brahminical structures. “This isn’t India becoming ‘westernised’. It’s India decolonising.” This was Shahmir Sanni’s tweet on the historic Supreme Court of India judgement decriminalizing homosexuality in September 2018. Sanni, a diasporic Pakistani from the UK, was not alone in reading this judgement as a decolo- nial act.1 Much of Indian and global media reported the ruling as decoloniza- tion, and celebrated the ushering of India into the league of other liberal countries where homosexuality is no longer criminalized; with the next stop gaining same-sex marriage rights.2 The judgement struck down Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code – a repressive act introduced by the British in 1861, which criminalized sexual activities “against the order of nature with any man, woman or animal.”3 In 2013 an earlier ruling of the Supreme Court deemed the section as valid and constitutional, which went against the 2009 Delhi Court reading down of the Section. The 2013 judgement in effect recriminalized homosexuality and stated: “both pre and post Consti- tutional laws are manifestations of the will of the people of India.” Homopho- bia was thus justified as rooted in precolonial and postcolonial processes. The judgement may be “decolonial” in intent,4 but there are other simultaneous processes at play which are not so decolonial in praxis; this essay argues these processes are colonialism, Islamophobia, and brahminical supremacy. Brahminical caste structures dictate and shape all contemporary political, legal, social, cultural, and economic violence in India.5 Caste structures and violence are integral to Hinduism, and intertwined with other matrices of oppression. However, to fight violence against queer, trans, and gender non- 6 conforming communities, Hinduism is often invoked to demonstrate how precolonial Hinduism was accepting of peoples of diverse genders and sexualities. This is used as a framework to ground queer and trans genealogies and contemporary subjectivities, and usually caste is erased from these narratives. The following works, for instance, invoke Hindu scriptures and mythologies as a Hindu – read always as Indian – queer, trans, and gender nonconforming archive: Ruth Vanita and Saleem Kidwai’s collection of literary pieces Same- Sex Love in India: A Literary History (2000),7 Devdutt Pattanaik’s fiction The Man Who Was a Woman and Other Queer Tales from Hindu Lore (2000), Shikhandi: And Other Tales They Don’t Tell You (2014),8 Vivek Shraya’s novel She of the Mountains (2014), and Nandini Krishnan’s non-fiction Invis- ible Men: Inside India’s Transmasculine Networks (2018).9 Universalizing and imposing Hindu narratives provides a limited understanding of the con- temporary experiences of queer, trans, and gender nonconforming peoples, more so for those who are further marginalized through the axes of caste, reli- gion, ethnicity, nationality, and class. Moreover, these revisionist narratives reduce homophobia to colonial legacies. Strategically, on the one hand, it may be important for the queer rights movement to reclaim Hinduism in its quest for justice;10 on the other hand, for some on the Hindu Right,11 who were blatantly homophobic until recently, this has become a key strategy to claim homophobia as a colonial inheritance and establish dominance of Hindu ideologies over their Others.12 What is claimed as Hindu culture is dominant caste culture. Any assertion of Hinduism as queer, trans, and gender nonconforming accepting, is not only an oxymoron, but also a normalization of caste violence. In this essay I deploy critiques of caste to unmask brahminical and Islamophobic formations in queer India and the Indian diasporas.13 Gee Imaan Semmalar (2016) argues relying on Hindu myths to affirm our identities gives rise to ... a regressive kind of trans identity politics that does not take into account the brutality of the caste system that finds its origin and sanction in the same Hindu religion. Thus, dominant caste queer, trans, and gender nonconforming folks who locate their queerness through Hinduism as cultural, historical, and religious praxes are complicit in this caste violence.14 As structures of brahminical cisheteropatriarchy predate colonialism in the Indian subcontinent, decoloni- zation is not possible in India without “annihilation of caste” (Ambedkar 1936). This essay explores the intersections of caste, sexuality, and coloniality by focusing on the Hindu Right and its queer, trans, and gender nonconforming peoples, and the ways in which queer Hindutva discourses are mobilized to propagate casteist, Islamophobic, and nationalist agendas.15 The first section provides a conceptual framework of homohindunationalism to theo- rize how Hindu nationalists are appropriating queer and trans struggles. The second section studies the pro-decriminalization responses of the Hindu Right to Section 377 and how Hindu queer and trans peoples engage in homohindunationalist praxes. The examples explored are from within India as well as from Hindu Indian diasporas to highlight how Hindu nationalism is a transnational project. The concluding section calls for the decolonizing of the law, state, and sexuality, along with annihilating caste and brahminical supremacy. Dalit feminists have long demonstrated the critical intersections of caste, gender, and sexuality (e.g. Pawar and Moon 2008; Stephen 2009). They show how gender and sexual relations are fundamental to the broader ideologies of caste. Caste structures are maintained through heteropatriarchal endogamy, the practice of marrying within the same caste, to control women’s sexuality. Thus, caste and gender hierarchies are the organizing principles of the brahminical social order and are closely interconnected. Cynthia Stephen (2009) elaborates: “Dalit woman as the OTHER is ... gener- ated by ingrained patriarchal and Brahminical values at all levels in society, which in turn causes the high level of exclusion, invisibility and structural and domestic violence.” Rejecting dominant caste feminisms and their compli- cities within brahminical patriarchies, Stephen calls for a Dalit womanist praxis that dismantles all structures of caste and patriarchy. Centreing the intersections of caste, gender, and sexuality, Dalit and Bahujan queer, trans, and gender nonconforming writers argue sexual/ queer/trans liberations are impossible without the annihilation of brahminical cisheteropatriarchy (see Banu 2016; Jyoti 2018; Kang 2016; Vidya 2014). While many caste oppressed activists and writers work within/alongside queer and trans movements in India, they argue these movements have main- tained dominant caste hegemony by centreing urban upwardly mobile domi- nant caste queer cis-men identities, and invisibilizing all caste oppressed peoples. Living Smile Vidya (quoted in Ahmad 2015) writes: “Our gender identity is linked to caste in such a way that it is impossible to separate the two at all ... We also critique Brahminism ... which is linked similarly in inse- parable ways in India.” Similarly, at the Delhi Queer Pride in November 2015, Dhrubo Jyoti (2015) declared: “We bring caste up because caste is everywhere and in my everything ... Caste is in my sex. Caste is in my being and Caste is in every part of you too!” In other words, homophobia, hijrapho- bia, and transphobia in India are not just a byproduct of British colonialism, but are also a manifestation of brahminical endogamic structures. Thus, addressing the intersections of caste and colonial violence needs to be central to queer and trans struggles in India. Similarly, caste is key to understanding the Hindu nationalist project, as it is cisheteropatriarchal, brahminical, and Islamophobic. The main aim of the nationalist project is to create a unified Hindu rashtra, a nation which is Hindu majority/dominant. The rashtra can be tolerant of all-Others as long as they assimilate within the Hindu fold. The project considers Hinduism as the main religion of India, and Christianity and Islam as “foreign” religions; and Hindi is the national language. Hindu rashtra is also invested in the con- tinued occupation of Kashmir and Adivasi, and Tribal territories in the North East and centre of Ind ia. Further, Islamophobia is manifested through the con- tinued oppression of Muslim communities across India, occupation of Kashmir, commitments to the “War on Terror”, and antiPakistan national- ism; targets of all are conflated into one another and rendered as “terrorists”, while India remains the victim. Hindu nationalism posits itself as counter to the “official” secular national- ist discourses; however, caste unravels the commonalities between these not- so-different ideologies. Writing about dominant caste anticolonial national- ism in colonial India, M. S. S. Pandian (2002, 1736) critiques the conflated construction of Hinduness and Indianness: “What gets encoded here as Indian culture is what is culture to the brahmins/upper castes.” Moreover, B. R. Ambedkar (1936) argued there is not much difference between secular and practicing dominant caste Hindus because of their shared positionalities. While it is important to see Hindutva as extremist Hinduism, following Ambedkar and Pandian, it is also critical to make clear that caste structures are inherent to Hinduism and Hindutva, and that all dominant nationalist projects in India remain brahminical. Paola Bacchetta (1999) argues the intersecting logics of queerphobia and xenophobia are essential to the Hindutva ideology. The Hindu right deploys “xenophobic queerphobia” to see homosexuality as a British import to India, rendering queerness as always non-Indian and always outside of the nation (143). Further, “queerphobic xenophobia” posits Others of the nation, specifically Muslim men, as the queer Others (144). Muslim men are rendered hyper-masculine and queer simultaneously. Else- where, Bacchetta (2013, 122) demonstrates how Hindu queers “are found not only on the ‘They’ side of Hindu nationalism’s ‘We vs. They’ binary as might be expected, but also on the ‘We’ side as well.” I build on Bacchetta’s critiques to demonstrate the emergent queer paradoxes within the Hindutva project and the role of brahminical supremacy and Islamophobia. While exiling queers was essential to the twentieth-century Hindutva project, I argue that in the last few years, the Hindu nation needs its queer, trans, and gender nonconforming Hindus to increase demographic numbers. Indeed, it is welcoming back queer and trans Hindus into the fold, quite lit- erally following the “ghar wapasi” propaganda. Ghar wapasi “produces and enforces notions of a primordial religious identity, whereby all and every- one are declared Hindus” (Gupta 2018b, 100). It seeks to “welcome back home” those Hindus who have historically converted to Islam and Christian- ity and reconvert them. As the rahstra needs its “ex” Hindus to come back into the fold, it also needs those whom it previously excluded due to their non- conforming identities. In the last three decades, the Hindu Right has become mainstream, with multiple government tenures across the country; primarily led by the Bhara- tiya Janta Party (BJP), Indian Nationalist Party, which serves as the politi- cal/populist medium for the Hindutva agenda. During the same period, there has been unparalleled visibility and recognition of queer and trans peoples and their struggles, culminating in the recent judgements and bills.16 Further, within the same period, the Indian economy has also been unprecedentedly neoliberalized. Needless to say, these three processes are deeply intertwined, and neoliberal processes have enabled both the rise of the Hindu Right as well as the rights of the queers.17 While, arguably, the rashtra remains anti-queer, these intertwined processes have also given a platform to Hindu Right queers and trans voices. This essay explores this neoliberal queer assimilation within the Hindu nation. These paradoxes are central to the project of homohindunationalism (following Jasbir Puar’s [2007] formulation of homonationalism).18 For Puar, homonationalism is a key logic of US nationalism, whereby white queer bodies can be assimilated within the white supremacist imperial settler state. Over the last few decades, white queer subjects have become indispensable to the nation- state, while other queer bodies have been excluded through the logics of white supremacy, colonialism, Islamophobia, neoliberalism, and imperialism. Similarly, the Zionist Israeli state uses homonationalism as a tool to project itself as queer-friendly and Palestine as queerphobic, and to erase its own illegal occupation of Palestine (Puar and Mikdashi 2012). Drawing upon Puar, I argue certain Indian (a.k.a. dominant caste, upwardly mobile Hindu) queer and trans bodies can also be willingly included within the Hindu nationalist project to uphold brahminical supremacy and Islamophobia. This assimilation is homohindunationalism,19 and these are its four interrelated logics: first, Hinduism is projected as a queer, trans, and gender nonconforming friendly religion. Second, Islam and Christianity are deemed as homophobic and causes for homophobia in India. More specifi- cally, Hinduism is projected as liberal, and Islam is reduced to being a homo- phobic, barbaric, and violent religion. Third, dominant caste Hindu queer, trans, and gender nonconforming folks are welcomed within the Hindutva project as long as they partake in its brahminical and Islamophobic ten- dencies. And fourth, all Hindu/Indian Others – Dalit Others, Bahujan Others, Adivasi/Tribal Others, Muslim Others, Kashmiri Others, North Eastern Others,20 Christian Others, Sikh Others, etc. – are simultaneously rendered queer as well as queerphobic.21 On the one hand, logics of queerpho- bic xenophobia (Bacchetta 1999, 2013) render all Others as queer, that is per- petually outside of brahminical cisheteronormativity. On the other hand, simultaneously queer Hindutva discourses see all Other communities as queerphobic and Hinduism as queerphilic. Others are always queerphobic, violent, and oppressive, while Hindus are always open, tolerant, and welcom- ing. Dalit and Muslim communities are always seen as heteropatriarchal through these logics.22 Kashmir is a prime example often marked as the queerphobic Other of the Indian state.23 In mainstream Indian media following narratives of Kashmiri queer and trans people are common: “The LGBT community in the... Kashmir Valley has almost no voice due to religious and cultural orthodoxy, which assume radical nature following the outbreak of the Islamist militancy in 1989– 90” (Singh 2018). Accounts such as these are not only deeply Islamo- phobic, they also obfuscate the ongoing occupation of Kashmir. The “Islamist militancy” is not terrorism, as the Indian state portrays it; rather, it is the resurgence of Kashmiri movement for azadi, sovereignty, from the Indian occupation. Sayan Bhattacharya (2019) warns against totalizing narratives of Hindutva queer politics and homohindunationalism and asks for “closer attention to the complex ways in which the imaginary of the Hindu nation is also intensely resisted and contested by queer and transgender communities.” Anti-Hin- dutva queer and trans contestations are indeed critical and urgent as they defy any singular claims over queer, trans, and gender nonconforming lives in India. In consideration of Bhattacharya’s critiques, my analysis of homo- hindunationalism is limited to those on the Hindu Right. As I expand below, while it is important to critique dominant caste-sexual formations across the political spectrum, in this essay I focus solely on Hindutva queer and trans politics. The next section explores such queer assertions from the Hindu Right. The 2018 judgement on Article 377 was in response to petitions submitted to the Supreme Court by gay elite celebrities. These petitions marked a clear dis- juncture from the last few decades of queer activism in India. While there are many critiques of the dominant caste, cis, urban, global/English centric queer movement, the Delhi High Court judgement of 2009, the first judgement reading down Article 377, marked a significant moment for queer rights in postcolonial India, as it was a result of decades of grassroots organizing by activists across the country. However, akin to dominant caste feminist move- ments, dominant caste queer, trans, and gender nonconforming activists often erased caste. As I argued above, along with the more liberal, albeit mostly brahminical, queer activism of the last few decades, in recent years there has also been an escalation of dominant caste right-wing Hindu articulations of queerness and claiming of superiority to Muslims and caste Others. The Hindu Right has come a long way from its protests in the 1990s against the film Fire for its depiction of queer intimacies between sisters-in-law in a middle-class Hindu household. The Hindu Right argued lesbianism goes against Indian values and wanted the film to be banned. The protest against the film was a pivotal moment for the Hindu Right to come out as homophobic in the open. Until recently, both the BJP and the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), National Volunteer Organization, Hindutva parent organization of the BJP, maintained their support for keeping homosexuality criminalized. For instance, in 2013 Rajnath Singh, BJP ex-chief spoke in favour of Section 377, stating “homosexuality is an unnatural act and cannot be sup- ported” (Singh 2013). That same year, a BJP source added: “It is a flawed assumption that ratifying homosexuality is equal to being progressive and broad-minded. The present discourse has been largely generated by a niche of the elite, which reflects the Bharat-India divide” (Ramseshan 2013). Bharat is a Sanskrit/brahminical name for India; it is often invoked to binarize between “authentic” rural India versus the “elite” mostly urban India. The above state- ment reduces queerness as an urban, elite, and “western” issue, whereas the rural is rendered traditional and heterosexual. The RSS, in 2014, reiterated its opposition to homosexuality, and stated it would not compromise on “moral values, social system and traditions in the name of individual freedom” (Singh 2014). In 2014 the BJP came into power at the national level under the leadership of Hindutva ideologue Narendra Modi. This was an unprecedented victory for the BJP and marked a significant ideological shift to the right. In May 2019 Modi came into power again, with a higher victory margin than 2014. This second victory has further entrenched Hindutva ideologies and escalated violence against all oppressed communities in India. At the same time, there has been an escalation of Hindutva support for queer rights. Prior to the judgement and since, gay bhakts (supporters of Modi) have rejoiced that their great leader has “liberated” them from colonial homopho- bic clutches. Needless to say, during the court proceedings in 2018, the BJP mostly remained silent and deferred the judgement to the court, while simul- taneously maintaining deeply heteropatriarchal, homophobic, and transpho- bic positions.24 In fact, in 2017 India rejected a UN resolution on abolishing the death penalty for queer people (Prasad 2018), and in 2018 the government dropped “sexual orientation” from workplace discrimination guidelines (Gupta 2018a). Indicative of state-sanctioned transphobia, instead of declin- ing, violence against the trans community escalated within weeks of the decri- minalization judgement (Rastogi 2018). Further, within a few months of the judgement, the Indian government proposed a draconian Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Bill in December 2018, what Grace Banu called a bill “meant to kill the trans people” (Dharmadhikari and Gopinath 2018). The Bill went against all the demands that the trans and gender non- conforming grassroots activists had been making with regard to gender self- identification and determination, reservation (positive affirmation) policies, equal punishment for sexual violence against trans people as against women, and decriminalizing sex work and begging.25 Amidst country-wide trans-led protests against the bill, it was stalled in parliament. However, with the reelection of Modi’s government, the bill passed without much dis- cussion in November 2019.26 The gap between the BJP’s lack of support for queer and trans rights and the gay supporters of the BJP speaks to the unconditional faith of the latter towards the BJP. Surprisingly, the RSS supported the judgement in 2018. In the last few years, different RSS leaders have supported decriminalizing homosexuality on the grounds of Hinduism’s acceptance, but with caveats such as it is still a “psychological case” and queer relations are “not compatible with nature” (Sethi 2018). After the judgement, the RSS chief declared that LGBTQ peoples are part of society and should not be isolated. Paradoxically, this affirmation of queer desires has happened at the same time as the Hindu Right has esca- lated its attack on inter-caste and inter-religious heterosexual love.27 The con- tradictions and ambiguities between support shown by the RSS, the calculating silence of the BJP, and the unconditional support of gay Hindutva supporters all attest to the fact that queer and trans desires can be assimilable within the Hindu fold as long as these desires emulate neoliberal, casteist, Isla- mophobic, and nationalist agendas of the Hindutva project. Notable dominant caste Hindu queer and trans activists like Ashok Row Kavi and Laxmi Narayan Tripathi have come out vehemently in support of the Modi regime by being openly casteist, Islamophobic, and nationalist. Ashok Row Kavi, one of the first openly gay activists and founder of the NGO Humsafar Trust, has long been a supporter of the BJP and the RSS. Kavi has been known for his Islamophobic and Hindu nationalist politics. In 2001, Bharosa, a NGO working on HIV-AIDS in Lucknow, was raided by the local police and its employees were charged under Section 377 (this incident became one of the main catalysts for the queer rights movement). In response to this incident, Kavi wrote an article against Bharosa’s partner, the Naz Foundation International (the prime organization behind the mobil- ization that led to the 2009 decision), claiming that a Muslim of Anglo-Ban- gladeshi origin (Shivananda Khan) was the founder of Naz (Menon 2007). Over the decades, Kavi has maintained that in Hinduism, unlike Christianity and Islam, homosexuality has never been a sin. For him, Christianity and colonialism are the root cause of homophobia in India (Singh and Rampal 2018). Thus, within the Hindu Right, both homosexuality and homophobia are simultaneously western imports. Such contradictions are an inherent part of the Hindutva project, and are deployed rather arbitrarily on the basis of varied oppositional stances to Christianity and Islam. Further, Kavi believes Muslim and Dalit queers asking for queer rights as Muslims and Dalits are diluting the movement and stands against all pro-minority rights, except queer rights. In an interview he questioned Muslim queer activism: “Now these queer Muslims are creating their groups because they say that their religion doesn’t permit homosexuality and Hindus hate them. Where will the activism go with such belief?” (Singh and Rampal 2018). Vikramadi- tya Sahai points out, “For people like Row Kavi, the pride is an imagination of the cis-Hindu upper class, upper caste gay male, and all the other kinds of queer people don’t exist” (Singh and Rampal 2018). Laxmi Narayan Tripathi is a renowned Kinnar (Sanskrit word used by some Hijras) activist and celebrity. She has openly claimed that within Kinnar communities there is no caste or religion (Bhain 2016), even though her own name consists of two brahmin last names. In 2016, when Indian forces crossed the Pakistan border to attack Pakistan’s sovereignty, Tripathi appealed to the Modi government to start a “kinnar battalion” that would help erase Pakistan from the world map. Bhattacharya (2019) notes: “While Laxmi’s proclamation chimes in with the jingoist climate currently dominating India, this invocation of nationalism as a trope to claim Indian citizenship and thus legibility in the Indian polity is similar” to other videos depicting hijras signing national anthems and participating in drills for Inde- pendence Day marches. More recently, in 2018, Tripathi publicly supported the Hindutva call for the construction of a temple at the controversial site in Ayodhya where, in 1992, Hindu mobs destroyed a sixteenth-century mosque, the Babri Masjid. The destruction of the mosque unleashed anti-Muslim com- munal violence across India, and since then the construction of the temple has been central to visions of Hindu nation-making. A group of trans, gender non- conforming, intersex peoples and collectives and their allies signed a statement (2018) critiquing her stance: Tripathi, a dominant-caste brahmin trans woman, has been appealing to the Hin- dutva ideology and justifying the existence of the caste system in India ever since she began aspiring for the political position within the current ruling party. Her pos- ition negates the politics of communal harmony that is espoused by Hijras and Kinnars ... [Her] position idealizes a mythical past ... supports the right-wing poli- tics of communal hatred in the guises of ‘we were always accepted’. As the statement argues, Tripathi has mobilized her caste positionality to align herself with Hindutva forces and become a dominant Kinnar voice in propa- gating Islamophobic, brahminical, nationalist state violence. In 2018 many pro-homosexuality Hindutva articles appeared online. These included a piece by an RSS member claiming: “It is a fact that ancient Indian attitudes and mores were receptive to the idea of homosexuality” (Awasthi 2018). Citing the RSS’s acceptance of homosexuality, the author asks Muslim and Kashmiri leaders to change their homophobic stances on homo- sexuality. Calling other religions anti-queer and positioning Hinduism as a queer friendly and liberal religion is a common Hindu pinkwashing or saf- fronwashing tactic.28 Another author argues Christianity and Islam have always been against queer rights as compared to Hinduism, as the latter does not have any scriptures prescribing anti-homosexuality (Didolkar 2018b). Elsewhere, the author blames the imposition of Christian and Islamic homophobic moralities for homophobia in postcolonial India (Didolkar 2018a). He accuses the homophobic faction of the Hindu Right for following Christian and Muslim leaders, as the Hindu Right is “actually joining hands with [Muslim and Christian] bigots and extremists” (Didolkar 2018a). Along with blatant Islamophobic and brahminical discourses, cri- tiques of Left politics comprise another common strategy deployed by Hindutva queers. For instance, the same author critiques the Indian Left for politicizing queer rights in India, and calls for the “masses among LGBTQ to protest the political appropriation of their voices for political gains” from the left (Didolkar 2018b). He calls on the homophobic Hindu Right to learn from the failures of the American Christian Right, as the perception of the American right as anti-LGBT is so well-formed that in spite of the left supporting Islam, a religion equally if not more harsh on the LGBT commu- nity, the LGBT community has largely remained in the left’s fold. (Didolkar 2018a) According to another article, published before the 2018 judgement, the reason that India, as a liberal country open to same-sex relationships, had not yet decriminalized homosexuality is “owing to the malaise of intersec- tionality” (Iyer-Mitra 2018). The author elaborates that the Left has created a “mythical enemy” and failed because of its tendency to bring together all kinds of issues, including the Naxalite resistance and Kashmiri struggles for self-determination. Another author claims that under Modi gay Indians will feel less discriminated from “left liberal” queers as “people from the Hindu Right wing are routinely made to shut up by the ‘Left liberals’ as they would crack jokes about Modi” (Rampal 2018). These articles demonstrate what homohindunationalism, with its saffron- washing, Islamophobic and neoliberal anti-left tendencies, looks like. Domi- nant caste queers can so easily deny occupation of Kashmir, Islamophobia, neoliberal, and brahminical caste violence, but continue to believe that the BJP and the RSS can liberate them. Similar strategies are deployed by Hindu nationalist forces in the diaspora. In 2017 the US-based Hindu American Foundation (HAF) came out with a solidarity statement with LGBTQ communities demanding inclusive and equi- table representation in California’s school textbooks. Since 2005, the HAF has been at the forefront in seeking changes to history and social science textbooks to depict Hindus and Hinduism positively.29 The HAF contends that talking about gender, caste, religious, and class violence in India makes Hindu students vulnerable to racism and bullying in schools. Along with asking for unbiased representation of Hinduism in textbooks, it collaborated with the FAIR Education Implem entation Coalition to advocate for more LGBTQ inclusive curricula in Californian schools. In a policy brief, “Hindu- ism and Homosexuality,” the HAF (n.d.) proclaims Hinduism is an LGBT friendly religion and allows for equal rights for people of all sexualities and genders, and is supportive of same-sex marriage. Blaming colonialism for homophobia in India, the HAF call for an acceptance of LGBT peoples within Hindu society, and “Hindus should not reject or socially ostracise LGBT individuals, but should accept them as fellow sojourners on the path to moksha” (Venkataraman and Voruganti 2018). Their alliance with LGBTQ groups is troubling given how the HAF has been asking for Hindu inclusion from a casteist brahminical, Islamophobic and Sikhophobic stance and seeks to sanitize Hinduism of its violent practices. Denying caste, gender, and religious violence, while propagating a myth of queer, trans, and gender nonconforming friendliness, is part of the same saffronwashing ideological framework. As discussed above, following global anti-Islamophobic homonationalist formations in the United States, Israel, and elsewhere, Hindus are also mirroring these processes. Responding to the HAF’s solidarity statement on the killing of queer activists in Bangladesh in 2016, Farhat Rahman (2017) writes: “In doing so, it cynically uses queer Muslim deaths ... to justify and uphold American imperialism. HAF is not concerned about homophobia and transphobia as evidenced by its utter silence on the violence and extremist violence faced by minorities in India.” These alliances allow the HAF and Hindutva queers to align themselves with other Islamophobic global powers to assert their superiority to Islam. In August 2019 India escalated its occupation of Kashmir by abrogating Article 370; the article allowed Kashmir to maintain a semi-autonomous status and to have its own constitution. For Kashmiris, this is a direct attack on their sovereignty.30 However, the government claims this was done to integrate the state into India and give Kashmiris full and equal rights as other Indians. The state and many Indians, including those in the dia- spora,31 claim this revocation will bring rights to those oppressed within Kashmir, including queer and trans peoples. They maintain that since the Indian constitution can directly be applied to Kashmir, Kashmiri queer and trans peoples can be “liberated” like their Indian counterparts. Queer Hindu Alliance, a Hindu queer group, on the day of the abrogation, tweeted a picture of a map with the entire Kashmir region part of India, saying: “From Kashmir To Kanyakumari, India Is One.” The Kashmir region on the map had a saffron turban tied around it. Such pinkwashing claims are false, as there are no special laws in Jammu and Kashmir’s consti- tution which criminalize homosexuality, and the Supreme Court’s 2018 decision applies to all state High Courts (Stand With Kashmir 2019). Further- more, Kashmiri queer and trans peoples continue to suffer like other Kash- miris under the communication blackout, curfew, and sustained state violence (Bhat 2019). Bund (2019) argues the Indian response always already stereotypes Kashmiris as homo/trans/phobic and terrorists, and further: It is an attempt to dehumanize Kashmiri LGBT community by reducing their exist- ence and the human need for identity, intimacy, security and development to only sex. The motivation is to rebrand a violent masculine military state as champion of women and LGBT rights. Thus, homohindunationalism is rooted in Islamophobia, brahminical supre- macy, and the occupation of Kashmir. The above sections demonstrate the need to study brahminical supremacy to understand queer and trans struggles in postcolonial India. Further, I contend the claims to “decolonization” need to be revaluated due to the intersections of colonialism and brahminical supremacy. To conclude, I engage with deco- lonial and anti-caste critiques to emphasize that decolonization can only be imagined if anti-caste praxis in centred in all liberation struggles. Drawing upon Ani ́bal Quijano’s concept of the “coloniality of power”, Mari ́a Lugones (2010, 748) theorizes the “coloniality of gender” thus: “The gender system is not just hierarchical but racially differentiated and the racial differentiation denies humanity and thus gender to the colonized.” Fol- lowing Lugones and others, we know that coloniality shapes hegemonic con- structs of race, gender, and sexuality. Within the Indian context, Aniruddha Dutta and Raina Roy (2014, 321) call to decolonize “transgender” as local nonconforming identities are rendered “as merely ‘local’ expressions of trans- gender identity, often without interrogating the conceptual baggage.” Their critique signals to the coloniality in the making of (trans)gender identity. As agued above, brahminical supremacy has embedded caste to the logics of coloniality. Pandian, quoted earlier, critiqued dominant caste nationalism in colonial India as it was established through “valorising the inner or spiritual as the uncolonized site of national selfhood” (2002, 1736). Dominant caste leaders used this binary to construct themselves as spiritually superior to the colonizers as well as the caste Others. Simultaneously, the elites aspired to whiteness and colonial power. For instance, in her study of the English language in colonial India, Shefali Chandra (2012) argues: “The normative gendered subject ... [was] produced in a crucible of caste-based desires that provide[d] coherence to the English-education project” (23). These processes entrenched the caste-based gender and sexual differences between dominant caste and caste oppressed communities. In fact, these processes have been central to the ways “brahmanism came to stand in for Indian culture itself” (Chandra 2011, 148). The intersections of caste and colonialism continue to shape the postcolonial state. Chinnaiah Jangam (2017, 5) argues brahmi- nical knowledges impose “epistemic violence ... to crush Dalits’ sense of self and to dehumanize their existence.” Challenging temporal dichotomies of colonialism and anticolonialism produced by dominant caste scholars, Jangam asserts that Dalit epistemologies rupture the ideas of an “ideal” pre- colonial Hindu past. These critiques destabilize the temporal and connect the postcolonial/modern/secular formation of the Indian state and brahminical supremacy as interwoven and not solely as a consequence of colonialism. As well, they point out that there was never a “true” decolonial moment in India after independence. In a “casted state” like India,32 where logics of endogamy and blood purity have always been at stake in regulating gender, sexual intimacies and caste lines, without questioning the modalities of caste, speak to the coloniality of brahminical supremacy (Upadhyay and Bakshi forthcoming). The intersections of caste and sexuality also allow us to understand the Hindutva attack on desires, intimacies, and love in India – not just queer intimacies but intercaste and interreligious “heterosexual love” as well. M. Jacqui Alex- ander (2005, 100–101) calls for a politics of decolonization to be rooted in erotic autonomy: “within a desire for decolonization, imagined simul- taneously as political, economic, psychic, discursive, and sexual.” Grounding the erotic in the decolonizing erotics requires chal- lenging homohindunationalist tactics, along with dismantling all colonial, brahminical, and Islamophobic structures. After the 2018 judgement, we can hope, decolonizing and de-casting erotics, as moulee (2018) writes, will “de-centralise the queer movement” to make visible “the forgotten fights” of queer, trans, and gender nonconforming peoples in India. decolonial praxis in the Hawaiian movement for sovereignty, J.Keh̄aulaniKauanui( 2018,198)argues, can rectify “nationalist attempts at recolonization.” Within the Indian context, The alternative is Dalit emancipation. Das 17 (, S., 2017. Religious Discrimination, Conversion and Dalit Emancipation. Remarking An Analisation, 2(7), pp.48-50. Associate Professor, Deptt.of English, Berhampur University, Odisha, https://drive.google.com/file/d/1AdsDKkUl0T9RENfpgltbR1cxkCbZDDGW/view?usp=sharing)-rahulpenu Casteism, a permanently organized force of institutionalized inequality enforced by the Brahminical society, has seen resistance and protest at all times in history. But the voices silenced and erased by hegemonic aesthetic forums have attempted to rise aesthetically through art and literature during the Bhakti Movement and thereafter. Siva Nagaiah Bolleddu notes in his book Writing the Self (2015) that the first radical Dalit protest movement in India was led by Jotirao Phule (18271890) in the nineteenth century. Phule was influenced and inspired by the egalitarian philosophy of the Buddha and Kabir and „struggled to rebuild the society on the matrix of „equality,‟ „justice‟ and „reason‟‟. . . Phule believed that education was the source of emancipation and empowerment. . . Phule‟s Gulamgiri (1873) was a revolutionary deconstruction of the Brahminical culture‟ (11). After Phule, B.R.Ambedkar‟s role in Dalit emancipation is indisputable. He too realised that the objectives of Brahminical sacred books were designed to give priority to graded inequality between different castes. Like Phule, after being a victim of caste discrimination, he too was influenced by the Buddhist philosophy of dignity and equality of human beings achieved through communion. This paper proposes to look at the Brahminical oppression of Dalits and Babasaheb Ambedkar‟s endeavour, in the early twentieth century, to revive the Sangha Doctrine of Buddhism, whereby, a vision of Dalit emancipation could be ensured through negotiating the political and religious identity towards a progressive modernity. Ambedkar‟s fight for Dalit dignity and identity took the shape of a politico-religious movement called the neo-Buddhism or Ambedkarite Buddhism. Although, the Buddha was born in India of Hindu parents and raised as an upper caste Hindu. Disillusioned by the pain, pathos and ills of society he severed [severing] his links with the society and religion of his birth forming and propagating a new way of life altogether, which was non-discriminatory and doctrinated principles of life, later known as Buddhism. This would help the practitioners to accept the harsh reality they encountered within the dogmatic moralising of Hindu caste system. The practitioners or Shramans were recluses, who led a casteless, classless and austere life within and in the fringes of society. The Hindus, while accepting Buddha as an incarnation of Vishnu, did not take cognizance of the Vikshus/Shramans who were not necessarily from the higher castes of Hindu society. Buddhism never aimed at reforming the Hindu caste system; rather it had a completely different philosophy. The aspect that Babasaheb Ambedkar, the father of Dalit Movement in India and a great Statesman, envisioned for the Dalits: emancipation through community and participation. It was felt that emancipation and participation could be possible only through self-knowledge and induction into Sangha or community. Ambedkar envisioned that Dalit intellectuals should use the community strength and property to build a formidable postHindu Buddhist Sangha to face challenges towards Dalit empowerment. This is Ambedkar‟s vision of Renaissance of Buddhism which would show the Dalits a path to regain their human dignity. For the present purpose this paper looks into the oppressed lives of the lower caste as depicted in the Autobiographies of Omprakash Valmiki, Joothan: A Dalit’s Life (1998); Saran Kumar Limbale, The Outcaste (2004); and Bama, Karukku (2012), respectively. The writers in context are from three different parts of India revealing similar tales of atrocity against humanity. [Omitted Page 50] Valmiki was born in a Chuhra community in Uttar Pradesh. In Joothan we read accounts of the atrocities faced on a daily basis by the lower caste. The upper caste Tagas exploited the Chuhras, making them work for them without any return and the Chuhras were not even expected or allowed to ask for payment for the labour done. Valmiki says, “We would often have to work without pay. Nobody dared to refuse this unpaid work for which we got neither money nor grain. Instead, we got sworn at and abused”(2). As Bolleddu notes, the practice of untouchabiliy was so rampant then „that while it was acceptable to touch dogs and cats or cows and buffaloes, but not a Chuhra. The Chuhras were not seen as human. Their utility lasted until the work was done‟ (58). They were exploited and dehumanized. Valmiki goes on to give more details of the dehumanising acts of discrimination of the upper castes against them. He says that the even the teachers did not stop at humiliating him. In one incident, when he questioned a teacher about the silence in the epics about the Dalits, the teacher flew into a rage and screamed, “Darkest Kaliyuga has descended upon us so that an untouchable is daring to talk back‟(23).In fact the teacher thrashed him mercilessly and said, “Chuhre, you dare compare yourself with Dronacharya... Here, take this, I will write an epic on your body” (23). Valmiki, Limbale and Bama, the three writers cited in this article, from across genders and geographical divides of India, are representative of the Dalits who, irrespective of their religious allegiance, suffer the predicament of discrimination similar to that suffered by the Buddha himself. The Buddhist text, Jataka1 , bears testimony to this. It is replete with tales of previous births of Buddha where he is an untouchable. We can take as cases in point the Matanga Jataka and Chitta Sambhuta Jataka. Raja Sekhar Vundru in his article „Buddha as Untouchable‟ notes that: In Matanga Jataka, Lord Buddha takes birth as a Chandala‟s son, Matanga. One day, Matanga goes to Benaras, and Dittha-Mangalika, daughter of a Benaras merchant, upon seeing him cries hoarse that a Chandala has entered Benaras. The people around beat Matanga till he becomes senseless. After he regains consciousness, Matanga realises that people beat him up for no reason because of the act of the Dittha-Mangalika, and resolves that he will not budge till he gets her. He lay at the door of her father¹s house for seven days, his resolve immutable. On the seventh day, the merchant brings out the girl and hands her over to Matanga... In another Jataka, Chitta Sambhuta Jataka, the great being, born as an untouchable named Chitta goes with his cousin Sambutha to Takshashila, by camouflaging their caste to learn. But in an incident, the two men by mistake start speaking in a dialect of untouchables. The Brahmins get to know about this and beat both of them. They both turn into ascetics. OFF 1NC---Implosion K Information is dissuasive and counterproductive to communication – Hieroglyphics as a restructuring of communication bolsters the hyperreality insofar as information is being transferred through a medium, regardless of comprehensibility. Baudrillard 00 (Jean Baudrillard, sociologist, philosopher and cultural theorist, Simulacra and Simulations, http://www.egs.edu/faculty/jean-baudrillard/articles/simulacra-and-simulations-viii-the-implosion-of-meaning-in-the-media/) * WE DO NOT DEFEND OTHER BAUDRILLARD WORK* We live in a world where there is more and more information, and less and less meaning. Consider three hypotheses. Either information produces meaning (a negentropic factor), but cannot make up for the brutal loss of signification in every domain. Despite efforts to reinject message and content, meaning is lost and devoured faster than it can be reinjected. In this case, one must appeal to a base productivity to replace failing media. This is the whole ideology of free speech, of media broken down into innumerable individual cells of transmission, that is, into "antimedia" (pirate radio, etc.). Or information has nothing to do with signification. It is something else, an operational model of another order, outside meaning and of the circulation of meaning strictly speaking. This is Shannon's hypothesis: a sphere of information that is purely functional, a technical medium that does not imply any finality of meaning, and thus should also not be implicated in a value judgment. A kind of code, like the genetic code: it is what it is, it functions as it does, meaning is something else that in a sense comes after the fact, as it does for Monod in Chance and Necessity. In this case, there would simply be no significant relation between the inflation of information and the deflation of meaning. Or, very much on the contrary, there is a rigorous and necessary correlation between information is directly destructive of meaning and signification, or that it neutralizes them. The loss of meaning is directly linked to the dissolving, dissuasive action of information, the media, and the the two, to the extent that mass media. The third hypothesis is the most interesting but flies in the face of every commonly held opinion. Everywhere socialization is measured by the exposure to media messages. Whoever is underexposed to the media is desocialized or virtually asocial. Everywhere information is thought to produce an accelerated circulation of meaning, a plus value of meaning homologous to the economic one that results from the accelerated rotation of capital. Information is thought to create communication, and even if the waste is enormous, a general consensus would have it that nevertheless, as a whole, there be an excess of meaning, which is redistributed in all the interstices of the social just as consensus would have it that material production, despite its dysfunctions and irrationalities, opens onto an excess of wealth and social purpose. We are all complicitous in this myth. It is the alpha and omega of our modernity, without which the credibility of our social organization would collapse. Well, the fact is that it is collapsing, and for this very reason: because where we think that information produces meaning, the opposite occurs. Information devours its own content. It devours communication and the social. And for two reasons. 1. Rather than creating communication, it exhausts itself in the act of staging communication. Rather than producing meaning, it exhausts itself in the staging of meaning. A gigantic process of simulation that is very familiar. The nondirective interview, speech, listeners who call in, participation at every level, blackmail through speech: "You are concerned, you are the event, etc." More and more information is invaded by this kind of phantom content, this homeopathic grafting, this awakening dream of communication. A circular arrangement through which one stages the desire of the audience, the antitheater of communication, which, as one knows, is never anything but the recycling in the negative of the traditional institution, the integrated circuit of the negative. Immense energies are deployed to hold this simulacrum at bay, to avoid the brutal desimulation that would confront us in the face of the obvious reality of a radical loss of meaning. It is useless to ask if it is the loss of communication that produces this escalation in the simulacrum, or whether it is the simulacrum that is there first for dissuasive ends, to short-circuit in advance any possibility of communication (precession of the model that calls an end to the real). Useless to ask which is the first term, there is none, it is a circular process that of simulation, that of the hyperreal. The hyperreality of communication and of meaning. More real than the real, that is how the real is abolished. Thus not only communication but the social functions in a closed circuit, as a lure to which the force of myth is attached. Belief, faith in information attach themselves to this tautological proof that the system gives of itself by doubling the signs of an unlocatable reality. But one can believe that this belief is as ambiguous as that which was attached to myths in ancient societies. One both believes and doesn't. One does not ask oneself, "I know very well, but still." A sort of inverse simulation in the masses, in each one of us, corresponds to this simulation of meaning and of communication in which this system encloses us. To this tautology of the system the masses respond with ambivalence, to deterrence they respond with disaffection, or with an always enigmatic belief. Myth exists, but one must guard against thinking that people believe in it: this is the trap of critical thinking that can only be exercised if it presupposes the naivete and stupidity of the masses. 2. Behind this exacerbated mise-en-scène of communication, the mass media, the pressure of information pursues an irresistible destructuration of the social. Thus information dissolves meaning and dissolves the social, in a sort of nebulous state dedicated not to a surplus of innovation, but, on the contrary, to total entropy.*1 Thus the media are producers not of socialization, but of exactly the opposite, of the implosion of the social in the masses. And this is only the macroscopic extension of the implosion of meaning at the microscopic level of the sign. This implosion should be analyzed according to McLuhan's formula, the medium is the message, the consequences of which have yet to be exhausted. That means that all contents of meaning are absorbed in the only dominant form of the medium. Only the medium can make an event whatever the contents, whether they are conformist or subversive. A serious problem for all counterinformation, pirate radios, antimedia, etc. But there is something even more serious, which McLuhan himself did Because beyond this neutralization of all content, one could still expect to manipulate the medium in its form and to transform the real by using the impact of the medium as form. If all the content is wiped out, there is perhaps still a subversive, revolutionary use value of the medium as such. That is and this is where McLuhan's formula not see. leads, pushed to its limit there is not only an implosion of the message in the medium, there is, in the same movement, the implosion of the medium itself in the real, the implosion of the medium and of the real in a sort of hyperreal nebula, in which even the definition and distinct action of the medium can no longer be determined. Even the "traditional" status of the media themselves, characteristic of modernity, is put in question. McLuhan's formula, the medium is the message, which is the key formula of the era of simulation (the medium is the message the sender is the receiver the circularity of all poles the end of panoptic and perspectival space such is the alpha and omega of our modernity), this very formula must be imagined at its limit where, after all the contents and messages have been volatilized in the medium, it is the medium Fundamentally, it is still the message that lends credibility to the medium, that gives the medium its determined, distinct status as the intermediary of communication. Without a message, the medium also falls into the indefinite state characteristic of all our great systems of judgment and value. A single model, whose efficacy is immediate, simultaneously generates the message, the medium, and the "real." Finally, the medium is the message not only signifies the end of the message, but also the end of the medium. There are no more media in the literal sense of the word (I'm speaking particularly of electronic mass media) that is, of a itself that is volatilized as such. mediating power between one reality and another, between one state of the real and another. Neither in content, nor in form. Strictly, this is The absorption of one pole into another, the short-circuiting between poles of every differential system of meaning, the erasure of distinct terms and oppositions, including that of the medium and of the real thus the impossibility of any mediation, of any dialectical intervention between the two or from one to the other. Circularity of all media effects. Hence the impossibility of meaning in the literal sense of a unilateral vector that goes from one pole to another. One must envisage this critical but what implosion signifies. original situation at its very limit: it is the only one left us. It is useless to dream of revolution through content, useless to dream of a revelation through form, because the medium and the real are now in a single nebula whose truth is indecipherable. The fact of this implosion of contents, of the absorption of meaning, of the evanescence of the medium itself, of the reabsorption of every dialectic of communication in a total circularity of the model, of the implosion of the social in the masses, may seem catastrophic and desperate. But this is only the case in light of the idealism that dominates our whole view of information. We all live by a passionate idealism of meaning and of communication, by an idealism of communication through meaning, and, from this perspective, it is truly the catastrophe of meaning that lies in wait for us. But one must realize that "catastrophe" has this "catastrophic" meaning of end and annihilation only in relation to a linear vision of accumulation, of productive finality, imposed on us by the system. Etymologically, the term itself only signifies the curvature, the winding down to the bottom of a cycle that leads to what one could call the "horizon of the event," to an impassable horizon of meaning: beyond that nothing takes place that has meaning for us but it suffices to get out of this ultimatum of meaning in order for the catastrophe Beyond meaning, there is the fascination that results from the neutralization and the implosion of meaning. Beyond the horizon of the social, there are the masses, which result from the neutralization and the implosion of the social. What is essential today is to evaluate this double challenge the challenge of the masses to meaning and their silence (which itself to no longer seem like a final and nihilistic day of reckoning, such as it functions in our contemporary imaginary. All the marginal, alternative efforts to revive meaning are secondary in relation to that challenge. Evidently, there is a paradox is not at all a passive resistance) the challenge to meaning that comes from the media and its fascination. in this inextricable conjunction of the masses and the media: do the media neutralize meaning and produce unformed [informe] or informed [informée] masses, or is it the masses who victoriously resist the media by directing or absorbing all the messages that the media produce I analyzed and condemned the media as the institution of an irreversible model of communication without a response. But today? This absence of a response can no longer be understood at all as a strategy of power, but as a counterstrategy of the masses themselves when they encounter power. What then? Are the mass media on the side of power in the manipulation of without responding to them? Sometime ago, in "Requiem for the Media," the masses, or are they on the side of the masses in the liquidation of meaning, in the violence perpetrated on meaning, and in fascination? Is it the media that induce fascination in the masses, or is it the masses who direct the media into the spectacle? Mogadishu-Stammheim: the media make themselves into the vehicle of the moral condemnation of terrorism and of the exploitation of fear for political ends, but simultaneously, in the most complete ambiguity, they propagate the brutal charm of the terrorist act, they are themselves terrorists, insofar as they themselves march to the tune of seduction (cf. Umberto Eco on this eternal moral dilemma: how can one not speak of terrorism, how can one find a good use of the media there is none). The media carry meaning and countermeaning, they manipulate in all directions at once, nothing can control this process, they are the vehicle for the simulation internal to the system and the simulation that destroys the system, according to an absolutely Mobian and circular logic and it is exactly like this. There is no alternative to this, no logical resolution. Only a logical exacerbation and a catastrophic resolution. With one caution. We are face to face with this system in a double situation and insoluble double bind exactly like children faced with the demands of the adult world. Children are simultaneously required to constitute themselves as autonomous subjects, responsible, free and conscious, and to constitute themselves as submissive, inert, obedient, conforming objects. The child resists on all levels, and to a contradictory demand he responds with a double strategy. To the demand of being an object, he opposes all the practices of disobedience, of revolt, of emancipation; in short, a total claim to subjecthood. To the demand of being a subject he opposes, just as obstinately and efficaciously, an object's resistance, that is to say, exactly the opposite: childishness, hyperconformism, total dependence, passivity, idiocy. Neither strategy has more objective value than the other. The subject-resistance is today unilaterally valorized and viewed as positive just as in the political sphere only the practices of freedom, emancipation, expression, and the constitution of a political subject are seen as valuable and subversive. But this is to ignore the equal, and without a doubt superior, impact of all the object practices, of the renunciation of the subject position and of meaning precisely the practices of the masses that we bury under the The liberating practices respond to one of the aspects of the system, to the constant ultimatum we are given to constitute ourselves as pure objects, but they do not respond at all to the other demand, that of constituting ourselves as subjects, of liberating ourselves, expressing ourselves at whatever cost, of voting, producing, deciding, speaking, participating, playing the game a form of blackmail and ultimatum just as serious as the other, even more serious today. To a system whose argument is oppression and repression, the strategic resistance is the liberating claim of subjecthood. But this strategy is more reflective of the earlier phase of the system, and even if we are still confronted with it, it is no longer the strategic terrain: the current argument of the system is to maximize speech, the maximum production of meaning. Thus the strategic resistance is that of the refusal of meaning and of the spoken word or of the hyperconformist simulation of the very mechanisms of the system, which is a form of refusal and of non-reception. It is the strategy of the masses: it is equivalent to returning to the system its own logic by doubling it, to reflecting meaning, like a mirror, without absorbing it. This strategy (if one can still speak of strategy) prevails today, because it was ushered in by that phase of the system which prevails. To choose the wrong strategy is a serious matter. All the movements that only play on liberation, emancipation, on the resurrection of a subject of history, of the group, of the word based on "consciousness raising," indeed a "raising of the unconscious" of subjects and of the masses, do not see that they are going in the direction of the system, whose imperative today is precisely the overproduction and regeneration of meaning and of speech. derisory terms of alienation and passivity. Signs have exceeded reality – the real vanishes into the code – even attempts to recreate communication fail in the face of the hyperreality and conclude in the same way – hyperfinality. Baudrillard 83 (Jean Baudrillard, sociologist, philosopher and cultural theorist, “Fatal Strategies” http://faculty.humanities.uci.edu/poster/books/Baudrillard,%20Jean%20-%20Selected%20Writings_ok.pdf) More generally, visible things do not terminate in obscurity and in silence; they vanish into what is more visible than the visible: obscenity. An example of this ex-centricity of things, of this drift into excrescence, is the irruption of randomness, indeterminacy, and relativity within our system. The reaction to this new state of things has not been a resigned abandonment of traditional values, but rather a crazy overdetermination, an exacerbation, of these values of reference, function, finality, and causality. Perhaps nature is, in fact, horrified by the void, for it is in the void, and in order to avoid it, that plethoric, hypertrophic, and saturated systems emerge. Some-thing redundant always settles in the place where there is no longer any-thing. Determinacy does not withdraw to the benefit of indeterminacy, but to the benefit of a hyperdeterminacy: the redundancy of determinacy in a void. Finality does not disappear in favor of the aleatory, but rather in favor of hyperfinality, of a hyperfunctionality: more functional than the functional, more final than the final - the hypertelic (hypertélie). Having been plunged into an in-ordinate uncertainty by randomness, we have responded by an excess of causality and teleology. Hypertelic growth is not an accident in the evolution of certain species, it is the challenge of telos as a response to increasing indeterminacy. In a system where things are increasingly left to chance, telos turns into know all too well how to exceed their own ends, to the point of invading the entire system. This is true of the behavior of the cancerous cell (hypervitality in a single direction), of the hyperspecialization of objects and people, of the operationalism of the smallest detail, and of the hypersignification of the slightest sign: the leitmotiv of our daily lives. But this is also the chancroid secret of every obese and cancerous system: those of communication, of information, of production, of destruction - each having long since exceeded the limits of functionality, and use value, in order to enter the phantasmic escalation of finalities. The hysteria of causality, the inverse of the hysteria of finalities, which corresponds to the simultaneous effacement of origins and causes, is the obsessive search for origins, for responsibility, for reference; an attempt to extinguish phenomena in infinitesimal delirium, and develops entities that causes. But it is also the genesis and genetics complex, which on various accounts are represented by psychoanalytic palingenesis (the whole psyche hypostatized in prime infancy, every sign a symptom); and biogenetics (all probabilities saturated by the fatal ordering of molecules); and the hypertrophying of historical research, the delirium of explaining everything, of ascribing everything, of referencing everything ... All this becomes a fantastic burden - references living one off the other and at the other's expense. Here again we have an excrescent interpretive system developing without any relation to its objective. All of this is a consequence of a forward flight in the face of the haemorrhaging of objective causes. Inertial phenomena are accelerating. Arrested forms proliferate, and growth is immobilized in excrescence. This is the form of the hypertelic, that which goes beyond its own ends: the crustacean that strays far from the ocean unable to return (to what secret end?); or the increasing gigantism of Easter Island statues. Tentacular, protuberant, excrescent, hypertelic: this is the inertial destiny of a saturated world. The denial of its own end in hyperfinality; is this not also the mechanism of cancer? The revenge of growth in excrescence. The revenge and summons of speed in inertia. The masses are also caught in this gigantic process of inertia by acceleration. The masses are this excrescent process, which precipitates all growth towards ruin. It is the circuit that is shortcircuited by a monstrous finality. Exxon: the American government requests a complete report on the multinational's activities throughout the world. The result is twelve 1,000 page volumes, whose reading alone, not to mention the analysis, would exceed a few years work. Where is the information? Should we initiate an information dietetics? Should we thin out the obese, the obese systems, and create institutions to uninform? The incredible destructive stockpiling of strategic weapons is only equaled by the worldwide demographic overgrowth. As paradoxical as it may seem, both are of the same nature and correspond to the same logic of excrescence and inertia. A triumphant anomaly: no principle of justice or of proportion can temper either one; they incite one another. And worse, there isn't even so much as Promethean defiance here, no excessive passion or pride. It appears simply that the species has crossed a particular mysterious point, where it has become impossible to turn back, to decelerate, or to slow down. We advocate for implosion – only a direct divestment from meaning, value, and information can push the system to its extremes, imploding under its own weight. Robinson 12 (Andrew, Political Theorist, Activist Based in the UK and research fellow affiliated to the Centre for the Study of Social and Global Justice (CSSGJ), University of Nottingham “Jean Baudrillard: Strategies of Subversion” September 7, 2012 https://ceasefiremagazine.co.uk/in-theory-baudrillard-11/) Baudrillard proposes that opponents of the system replace explosive strategies with implosive strategies. Such strategies outbid the system in the direction in which it is already going, and/or restore symbolic exchange. Explosion responds to the order of production. Implosion and reversal similarly respond to the order of networks, combinations and flows. We live in an era when games of chance and vertigo have replaced competitive, expressive games. For Baudrillard, an effective subversion today would involve becoming more aleatory than the system. Baudrillard sees this as possible through ‘symbolic disorder’, the return of symbolic exchange. Death offers a higher order than the code, one which can move beyond and overthrow it. Baudrillard argues for catastrophic - rather than dialectical - responses. Catastrophic responses involve pushing things to their limit. Catastrophe is not necessarily a negative idea - Baudrillard means catastrophe for the system, not for anyone else. Something is catastrophic in the bad sense only from a linear mode of thought. From another point of view, it is a winding-down of a cycle to its horizon or to a transition-point where an event happens. The catastrophe is the point of transition after which nothing has meaning from one’s own point of view. But the rejection of the code’s demand for meaning makes catastrophe no longer negative. Catastrophe is the passage to an entirely different world. The challenge must now be taken up at a higher level. The challenge the code poses for us is the liquidation of all its structures, finding at the end only symbolic exchange. Baudrillard proposes that we ‘become the nomads of this desert, but disengaged from the mechanical illusion of value’. We should live this space, devoid of meaning, as a return to the territory, as symbolic exchange. To become, as one writer puts it, ‘the hunters and gatherers of the contemporary megacity’. We should reconstruct the current space as a sacred space, a space without pathways, while rejecting the seduction of value - allowing work, value, the dying system to bury themselves. Baudrillard was writing this before the rise of contemporary surveillance and policing practices, which make it far harder to live in the system’s spaces as if they were territorial. It seems the system has somehow gained a reprieve from death, as it has several times before. It has done this by further deepening and expanding the code, and by drawing on reactionary and fascistic energies. According to Baudrillard, the challenge is to avoid fascination with the death throes of the system, to avoid giving it our energies in this way - to simply leave it to die. The system keeps itself alive by staging the ‘ruse’ of its death, while leaving the subjects it has created intact. It is, rather, through our own ‘death’ (or metamorphosis) that the system collapses. With the social failing, it seeks new energy, drawing on the marginal rebellions of excluded groups. For this reason, Baudrillard is suspicious of attempts to recreate marginal systems of meaning, instead calling for the logical exacerbation of the system’s logic. One part of this revolt is the recreation of direct relations. The code depends on everything being segmented and reduced to it, hence separated from others. Where exchange happens - for instance, direct communication in a liberated area - the finality of the code is shattered. Any kind of social practice or language which does not rely on the distinctions made by the code is revolutionary. Connections between people which don’t depend on their social status, solidarity across social borders, is revolutionary. Baudrillard also calls for the expansion of ‘pataphysics‘ - the formulation of imaginary solutions and problems in parody of science, similar to Situationist detournement and post-Situationist subvertisement and culture jamming. One might also see phenomena such as Internet memes as pataphysical. For Baudrillard, pataphysics is a further stage beyond simulation, which raises the stakes on it. This leads to particular implications. The revolutionary aspect of emancipatory movements (say, of Tahrir Square or the Argentinazo or Occupy) [ that ]do not reside in their demands or significations, but in their existence beyond these , as direct connection. The real struggle is always against the code. But the system defuses or recuperates struggles by redirecting them from the code to reality. This turns them into struggles within the system. It also deflects them back to the field of political economy. But the reality we experience is a product of the code, and political economy is now an illusion. What seems to most people as a fulfilment of a movement - the realisation of its particular project - is for Baudrillard a recuperation, a loss of the alternative forms of sociality it produces. A thoroughgoing revolution would keep up constantly the intense connections of a liberated zone. It would thus become something akin to a new indigenous group, constructed through symbolic exchange. Case 1NC---Presumption Vote neg on presumption: 1---There’s no internal link between voting AFF and the “end of man.” The lack of a stable theory of political advocacy means they need to win an in round impact, but they have established no threshold for that. Voting AFF to affirm already existing scholarship is a feel-good recirculation that doesn’t solve. 2---Ballot---no reason it solves their offense---creates externalizable change or solves any portion of the aff---and if it does it flips their offense and proves its parasitic in ballot based verification. 1NC---AT: Weheliye/Method Weheliye is wrong and the Habeas Viscus fails. 1---It’s a metaphor at best. 2 arguments ---The notion of habeas viscus is incoherent because there can be no shift to the exterior of law if a state of exception calls into being the notion of law---its an incomplete theory ---Their argument breaks down into a serial use of metaphors which doesn’t allow us to think David Marriott 15. Professor of History, UC Santa Cruz. “Black Critical and Cultural Theory.” Years Work Crit Cult Theory 23(1): 190-206. Emory Libraries. I suppose Habeas Viscus must be read very differently depending on whether it is approached as a contribution to the theory of bare life or as a contribution to the social death theory of blackness. Yet, as both it succeeds in showing why the reader of the one needs to become the reader of the other. If the biopolitical can never have done with the problem of black social death and the language of any philosophical engagement with that problem and language finds itself implicated and at issue in how race informs the notion of exception, then it is important to know how bare life and biopolitics ‘misconstrues how profoundly race and racism shape the modern idea of the human’ (p. 4). If Weheliye’s underlying thematic encourages us to read that opening question as fundamental, if the eight chapters that race; and compose the book—on blackness, bare life, assemblages, racism, law, depravation, deprivation and freedom—thus beckon towards a future focus for Black Studies in the light of that question, then it matters whether Weheliye offers a persuasive answer to this the critique of bare life and politics is an important one, the need to rethink blackness as a refusal of the exception is not entirely convincing and thus the risk of incompleteness is not only methodological. At risk is the overall coherence of the book, and this risk is never quite resolved. question. While Moreover, how are we to take this reference to ‘flesh’ when it is made without reference to the alterations it has already wrought on feminist theories of black abjection, on, say, the sexual reproduction of chattel slavery? What is it that saves the flesh from suffering if not Spiller’s reference to a symbolic yay-saying to the law (of the mother) rather than the father’s name? Perhaps it is because black flesh in being so quickly removed from law, and placed in parenthetical abjection, is always the trace of violent dejection, that its freedom belongs in formulating itself in relation to law’s obliteration? Weheliye describes his notion of habeas viscus as more radical than Spillers insofar as it does not ‘obey the logic of legal possession’ but nonetheless also inhabits a language of future anteriority (that is, an ending or catastrophe that has already happened, but one that can also only be borne in a messianic now). Weheliye, like Scott, refers to Benjamin’s theory of messianic time in which time is restituted neither through ontology or ethics nor some amalgam of the two, but through revolutionary acts of the oppressed (p. 133). Perhaps what Weheliye and Scott (and Benjamin) have in common is the thought that at a certain time and in a variety of ways, a future can be thought as a point of redemption or transformation or irrevocable encounter that can never be read, or written as such. Unlike Scott, Weheliye will not say that time and history are out of joint, for what revolution requires is ‘a real state of exception’ (!) which he describes as a ‘prehensive shift’ in time (p. 134). In one of its guises, habeas viscus will name and be the name of this real state in the very possibility of a non-racializing emergence of the human. But how can this shift be both ‘exterior to the jurisdiction of law’ and be a real state of exception if the exception is what calls into being both law and sovereignty? (p. 136) Habeas Viscus rarely goes beyond a language of metaphor and lyricism when describing this shift to future anterior freedoms and, in his readings of Benjamin (and other thinkers and texts), his theorizing quickly breaks down into a serial use of metaphors but one which singularly fails to open up ‘flesh’ as a space of thinking the beyond of sovereignty, capitalism, and of law. As such, Habeas Viscus represents, in my view, a somewhat tenuous, inconclusive attempt to think a future from the ‘enfleshed parenthetical present of the oppressed’ (p. 138). 2---It fails---laundry list. Meagher, 18—University of Connecticut (Thomas, “Maturity in a Human World: A Philosophical Study,” https://opencommons.uconn.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=8155&context=dissertations, dml) Of course, these reflections take as their point of departure not a universal and ahistoric form of patriarchy, misogyny, or sexism, but rather a historically particular form instantiated through Euro-modern colonialism (Wynter, 1990; Oyèwùmí, 1997; Lugones 2007). What is it at issue is not so much the intersection of standalone forms of racism and sexism, but rather their mutual co-constitution through an imperial and colonial matrix of power. Following Sylvia Wynter, we may then raise the issue that the problem of maturity may be linked to what she terms “the over-representation of Man as if it were the human” (2003). “Man” takes as its point of reference a white, European or Euro-American bourgeois male, a “global breadwinner” whose economic mastery is attributable not to illegitimate regimes of appropriation and exploitation but rather to Man’s intrinsic virtue. The modern episteme, Wynter contends, is premised on elevating Man to the status of an a priori ideal of humanity. A consequence is that modern forms of knowledge are shrouded in a logic of “biodicy” (Wynter, 2006), in which whatever ills humanity confronts can be attributed not to the misdeeds of Man but rather to the intrinsic lack of value to be found in those human beings who are not Man – women, people of color, the global poor, etc. As such, the imperative lurking behind Euro-modern conceptions of maturity, as well as their enshrinement and naturalization within Euro-modern institutions, may be not only “be a man” but simply “be Man.” “Man,” of course, stands ambiguously at the heart of many modern discourses. On the one hand, “man” can be taken to refer explicitly and particularly to adult males. On the other hand, “man” and “mankind” are taken to refer to humanity in general, with similarly gendered pronouns and suffixes serving as generic referents. Feminist thought has long had to reckon with the ripe conditions for equivocation that this engenders, and Wynter and other thinkers confronting problems of racism and coloniality have gone further in establishing that for Euromodernity, “man” equivocates between references to all human beings and references merely to European peoples (and perhaps the occasional “honorary white”). Yet receiving much less attention is another central ambiguity: if “man” has an equivocal relation to categories of race and gender, what of its relation to age and adulthood? If Euromodern discourses on man over-represent a racialized, gendered, classed subject as if it represented humanity writ large, is there a similar error in over-representing the adult as if it were all humanity? Clearly, it would be an error to say, for instance, that human rights are rights by virtue of one’s having attained adulthood; the “rights of man” often refer to rights that would appear to be the human rights of children as well as adults. Indeed, there may be some human rights that are distinctly owed to children – consider, for instance, S. Matthew Liao’s argument that children have a right to be loved (Liao, 2015). Yet here the issue of paternalism emerges, a source of recurring debates in Euro-modern thought due to its imbrication in colonial and patriarchal modes of power. If children have a right to have guardians, then the debate rages as to whether the child-like should likewise have some form of protectorate imposed upon them. Here a critical response emerges: if paternalism functions as a Trojan horse for colonization and patriarchy, then perhaps it simply ought to be rejected wholesale. Hence, what if decolonizing values requires discarding the notion of maturity altogether? In other words, maturity is woven into the fabric Euro-modern values, and it is therefore a medium for the propagation of coloniality. Where efforts to value maturity are present, it seems, the valorization of “Man” and devalorization of women, people of color, etc. lurks in the shadows. If Wynter’s call is for “the human after Man,” then it might follow that what is The notion that any values associated with colonialism or coloniality ought to be discarded, however, is fraught with problems. The apt metaphor here pertains to the folly of throwing babies out with the bathwater. Colonialism is an effort to instrumentalize land, people, culture, values, and knowledge; it invariably makes use of that which is valued prior to colonization. This is not to say that colonialism does not introduce new values of its own, but even where this is the case, colonialism often seeks to impose these through projects of cooptation that are established in reference to the values that precede them. In brief, the issue is that efforts to value maturity are by no means original or exclusive to Euro-modernity and coloniality. Consider here Ifeanyi Menkiti’s contention (1984, 2004) that it is typical of African conceptions needed is the achievement of the human after maturity. b. The Problem of Naïve Decolonization of personhood that one must mature in order to become a person. Full personhood is not a product of birth alone but is rather achieved through the acts and influences that make one meaningfully a member of a community. The claim, then, is not simply that it is better to be mature than not, but rather that a type of maturity is requisite to attain an ontological status of personhood: “passage through time helps create not only a qualitative difference between young and old, but also an ontologically significant one” (Menkiti, 2004: 325). The notion of maturity as bearing normative significance and even the notion of maturity as constitutive of the difference between those who are fully human and those who are not are not purely European or colonial inventions. This is not to say that Europe did not re-invent notions of maturity or bring to them a significance that was distinctly colonial and not indigenous to a pre-colonial context. Nor is it to claim that it was African societies’ normative attachment to forms of maturity that made them more susceptible to efforts of European colonization. The point is simply that maturity refers, ultimately, to ideals about which many societies have had constructive ideas prior to colonization, and the fact that there are colonial ideals of maturity, as well as precolonial conceptions of maturity that have been colonized and transformed in the process, does not imply that maturity ought to be discarded wholesale on the grounds that it is no more than a colonial artifact. The effort to reject whatever is associated with colonizers or epochs of colonization can be termed “naïve decolonization.” I do not mean to suggest that decolonization is itself naïve but rather that one can distinguish between forms of decolonization that are naïve and forms that are mature. Naïve decolonization often works according to the logic of guilt by association. Under this framework, decolonization’s chief responsibility becomes to repudiate whatever happens to be associated with the colonizers. The problem with such an approach is one that Aimé Césaire raised in Discourse on Colonialism (2000): that to oppose colonialism, to maintain that it dehumanizes both colonized and colonizer, does not mean that one can go back to a pre-colonial world. Frantz Fanon, likewise, issued the call to “Leave this Europe where they are never done talking of Man, yet murder men everywhere they find them” (1963: 311), but this “leaving” meant to refuse the claim that Europe was an adequate model, that its “successes” made it worthy of imitation. “It is a question,” Fanon wrote, “of the Third World starting a new history of Man, a history which will have regard to the sometimes prodigious theses which Europe has put forward, but which will also not forget Europe’s crimes, of which the most horrible was committed in the heart of man, and consisted of the pathological tearing apart of his functions and the crumbling away of his unity” (1963: 315). In short, the imperative to build a world no longer suffering from colonial pathologies may require that one not discard all European thought in much the way that European intellectuals often claimed that all nonEuropean thought could be discarded. Naïve decolonization regards repudiation of the colonial as sufficient for decolonization; mature decolonization confronts a responsibility to build a world that is genuinely after colonialism, a world, as Fanon called for, in which tools would not possess human beings and enslavement would be brought to a permanent end, and wherein it would be possible for human beings to discover and love each other, wherever they may be (1967a: 231). In that sense, we may issue a warning that Wynter’s call for “the human, after Man” may not mean, as such, the death of Man. The obvious points of reference here are Michel Foucault’s vision that man could be erased “like a face drawn in the sand at the edge of the sea” (Foucault 1994: 387) and Friedrich Nietzsche’s “God is dead. … And we have killed him” (Nietzsche 2001: §125). The problem with a call for Man’s death is that the death of Man is not necessarily the end of Man’s power. That Man should have hegemonic power in shaping the world, in organizing it in such a fashion so that each of its part serves Man’s ends, is an acute concern. But the death of Man does not guarantee the diminishment of such power. Foucault had expressed a similar concern in warning that having literally cut off the king’s head does not ensure that one will have done likewise in the realm of political theory (Foucault, 1978: 88-9); the question can remain, though, as to whether even cutting off the king’s head in political theory would eradicate the king’s power over how politics is thought about. Here African ontologies suggest a relevant point of consideration: the death of ancestors does not eradicate their power with regard to present and future generations (Gyekye, 1995: 68–84; Henry, 2000: 26–43; L.R. Gordon, 2006: 58–61). Wynter, in building off of and beyond Foucault’s framework, discussed these matters in terms of “transumptive chains” that govern the shift from one episteme and epoch of power to another. The symbols and modes of knowledge production put into effect to undergird one regime of power, do not “resume” so much as “transume” – that is, their interruption by revolutions and epistemic breaks yields their continuation in altered forms. The “death of God” at issue for Nietzsche and others was less an issue of God’s absence and more an issue of how God had been replaced; could science, philosophy, or Man really serve the knowledge- and world-orienting roles that God had? To ask of humanistic institutions that they replace God is, in its own way, a continuation of the power of God: it is to impose a demand that is exogenous to those institutions and that may transcend their capacities quite drastically. The degodding of the Western episteme, Wynter contends, moved it out of a Christocentric framework of knowledge production into a partially secularized episteme of Man-1, premised on the centrality and ideality of “homo politicus,” which in turn was further degodded and begot Man-2, the episteme of “homo oeconomicus” (Wynter, 2003, 2006). But the structure of the argument implies that present efforts toward decolonization could, simply, beget Man-3, and simply because one takes as one’s aim that one will kill Man-2 does not negate the possibility that one’s efforts will culminate in the hegemony of Man-3. A further reference point of relevance, then, is Sigmund Freud’s notion of the Oedipus complex (Freud, 1977: 207–8, 328–38). Human beings enter into a world in which they are cared for, but their maturation facilitates the diminution of that care. Confrontation with an adult world, though, may spark forms of resentment that engender an anxious or oppositional relation to those by whom one has been nurtured. The notion of the Oedipus complex suggests a desire to displace and replace those sources of care, and the structure of such desire would be to persist without reflective awareness: e.g., I want to spite my father by surpassing him and reincarnate my mother’s love through another, but I may fail to understand that this desire is implicitly manifest in my acts. The psychoanalyst, then, can point to the structural tendency of human existence to produce Oedipal desires, and for the patient under analysis, this can facilitate reflection on how one’s behavior may ultimately be the symbolic expression of the Oedipal. Fanon (1967a), though, by taking this method seriously, saw that a rigid interpretation of it would have to be transcended, for in a colonized society, the sociogenesis of Oedipal structures would be quite different than it would be in the European context that stimulated Freud’s explorations. If in both France and Martinique it was Man that was symbolically produced as paragon of value, then the investment of Oedipal desire in one’s father could be typical among white children in France and atypical among black children in Martinique. The tragic consequence is that many black people would, in turn, act upon these desires unreflectively, pursuing dreams of integration and white acceptance that were simply unrealizable. Hence, the Oedipal could, in the colonial context, be an extension of colonial power, part of the array of psychological tools that undergird domination. A further problem, then, is evident even in opposition to the colonizer: pursuing the death of the colonizer, to passionately seek the death of Man, could be to fail to confront the causes of one’s debilitation and, indeed, to exacerbate them. Psychoanalysis hinges on the importance of moving from a naïve understanding of one’s desires to a mature one. Ironically, this point is often lost on many of those who repudiate Freudian psychoanalysis. Indeed, both in positivist and post-structuralist psychologies there is much evidence of an Oedipal relationship to Freud, an over-investment in, as it were, cutting off his head in psychological theory. This may take pathological expression where it means that one recapitulates the worst of Freud’s mistakes and discards his most prescient insights. An example is illustrated by Emma Perez’s criticism of Félix Guattari and Gilles Deleuze’s AntiOedipus. If Guattari and Deleuze are correct that the Oedipal does not arise in the pre-colonial kinship structures of the non-West, it does not thereby follow, Perez contends, that colonization has not imposed the Oedipal on them. To resist the Oedipal diagnosis, in short, does not combat the “Oedipalization” that coloniality puts into place (Perez, 1999: 102–110). The “anti-” of antiOedipus may, ultimately, betray an Oedipal anxiety at the heart of post-structuralist efforts to hasten the death of their forbears. So, too, for positivist approaches that, repelled by the limitations of the “talking cure” approach of psychoanalysis, beget an uncritical and at times fetishistic relationship to neurophysiological reductionism. That there are limitations to the early articulations of psychoanalysis does not entail that one ought to overlook its strengths, in the same way that the psychoanalyst may recommend that the patient respond to the influence of a flawed parent by at least attempting to grasp and understand the parent’s genuine virtues and accomplishments; otherwise, the disdain may become pathological. The point of examining structures of Oedipal desire is not to discover an inevitable fate – to find that one is doomed to pathology and catastrophe – but rather to help one take responsibility for reflecting upon what one really wants and needs and, to use Fanon’s term, to be actional in the face of powers one cannot fully eradicate. What Fanon and Perez point to, then, is a model of mature decolonization for which the mere acceptance and application of European ideas and concepts is inadequate but for which the wholesale and uncritical repudiation of those ideas and concepts is undesirable and irresponsible. Hence, the maturity of decolonization involves heeding both Audre Lorde’s warning that it would be naïve to expect the master’s tools to dismantle the master’s house (Lorde, 1984: 110–3) as well as Jane and Lewis Gordon’s warning that the effort to dismantle the master’s house is necessary but insufficient for projects of decolonization (Gordon and Gordon, 2006). The master is, indeed, wellversed in how to use his tools to maintain his house; for this reason, decolonization that limits itself to immanent critique of the Euro-modern intellectual canon is likely doomed to tilt at windmills, for this canon was by and large erected in order to facilitate enduring modes of coloniality. But the diminution of the master’s power is not merely a matter of dismantling his house, and tools that the master has sought to employ might nonetheless be useful to construct other houses, to create alternative possibilities and futures. In short, naïve decolonization takes its responsibilities as delimited by the need to overthrow the master, but mature decolonization encounters an expanded responsibility which demands the creative and critical apprehension of the resources and inventions that can build a new world and set afoot a new humanity. As such, it needs to be wary of naïve decolonization, for, among other issues, naïve decolonization is a tool that masters can manipulate, have manipulated, and may even at times appropriate as their own. Think, for instance, of the many ways in which the ideal of a color-blind society, offered up initially as an anti-colonial idea, has been turned into an asinine but effective tool for passing and upholding policies with racist effects, or the ways in which the expansion of U.S. colonial power drew upon exploitation of the so-called “Black Legend” to replace Spanish colonial power without eradicating the colonial standing of the locales thus “liberated.” To speak of “naïve decolonization” at all, though, is to raise a thorny linguistic issue, for “naïve” shares its etymological roots with the term “native.” The notion that its articulation in modern French and English vernaculars is completely unrelated to conceptions of “natives” in the colonies strains credulity. To decolonize the concepts that shroud intellectual production and normative life requires critical reflection on the relationship between the concepts as inherited and the greater conceptual scheme of which they are parts. So, for instance, we may speak of the efforts of those like Kwasi Wiredu (1997: 136–144) or Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o (1986) toward decolonization by way of rethinking concepts from the perspective of languages not imposed by colonizers and, indeed, to be able to think enmeshed in these languages rather than as a merely occasional visitor to them. But it does not follow that one is in all cases better off by having abandoned terms that appear in the language of the colonizer, and the imperative of crosscultural communication – both in general and in the particular case of projects of decolonization – may require being able to critically and reflectively employ language that is neither purely innocent nor purely colonizing in its pragmatic effects. “Naïve” may simply refer to a cultural universal with transcultural validity, whereas the peculiar sense of “native” in Euro-modern languages may be the cultural particular of a cultural formation guided by the telos of colonization.4 And where “naïve” is used in such a way as to implicate this “native” baggage, one need not throw one’s hands up and abandon the term, since the alternative of distinguishing better and worse uses of it remains. 3---Cant actualize into action. Annie Menzel 16. Assistant Professor of Political Science, Vassar College. “And the Flesh Shall Set You Free: Weheliye’s Habeas Viscus.” Theory & Event 19(1). Emory Libraries. These exhilarating evocations of other humanities are occasionally undercut by moments of critical carelessness. While the general thrust of the critique of Foucault’s Eurocentricity is on target, it can be frustratingly fast and loose in the details, culminating in the mystifying claim that “Foucault positions hybridity as a panacea for racial difference.”27 Given that the Society Must Be Defended lecture series—the target of Weheliye’s critique here—ends with the assertion that racism appears inevitable for biopolitical states, this is an odd misconstrual. More troubling is the assimilation of Ann Laura Stoler’s 1995 Race and the Education of Desire28 to the most problematic aspects of Foucault’s conceptualization of biopolitics, representing her as amplifying its more baldly racist accents,29 when many of her own criticisms of Foucault’s colonial blindnesses—as well as her attention to the instabilities, contradictions, and failures of whiteness/Europeanness projects—in fact prefigure some of Weheliye’s own revisions. The initial three-part schema of racializing assemblages’ classificatory function as producing “human, not-quitehumans, and non-humans” has by the end collapsed without explanation into Man versus everyone else.30 Moreover, in its initial formulation, it bears more than a passing resemblance to Frank Wilderson’s “structure of US antagonisms” that partitions the population into White (“master”/“settler”/“human”), the Red (“savage”/“half-human”), and the Black (“slave”/“non-human”),31 yet Wilderson is not cited. This omission is striking given that Wilderson, though he emphasizes less the fecund subversions of the flesh than its violent ongoing production as humanity’s constitutive other, is one of Spillers’ most alacritous interlocutors. Likewise, Ewa Ziarek’s recent deployment of Spillers and Moten to radically rework Agamben’s notion of bare life as a ground for politics,32 a project with clear parallels to Habeas Viscus, gets a single commentless citation.33 What seems to be a substantial implicit engagement with Afrofuturist theorizations in contemporary Black Studies, moreover, is never explicitly developed. And while the book is nominally built around the titular notion of habeas viscus, it doesn’t entirely hang together as a concept album. Unlike, within related literature, Wilderson’s and Jared Sexton’s explanatorily forceful concept of the political ontology of race or Hartman’s notion of fungibility as the crux of Black expulsion from the Human, the precise meaning of the term (variously characterized as a racializing assemblage, a mode of conceptualizing racializing assemblages, and identical with the hieroglyphics of the flesh) remains elusive—as does, in consequence, its potential for fruitful redeployment. 1NC---AT: Law Bad Racial hierarchies are socially constructed and malleable---over-deterministic analyses of race occlude other social dimensions that predated and informed hierarchies Zack 18—Professor of Philosophy at the University of Oregon [Naomi, 2018, Philosophy of Race An Introduction, Chapter 6: Social Construction and Racial Identities, pgs 123-5, Palgrave, DOI: 10.1007/9783-319-78729-9] AMarb Before the construction of race in science, there were ideas of different human groups but no conceptual system of difference applying to all humankind. The construction of race in science drew on existing societal ideas and created abstract typologies that in turn became the cognitive ele- ment of race in society. However, at this time, after typologies of race have been discarded in the biological sciences, racial constructions in society endure and continue to be reconstructed. Socially constructed race has a momentum of its own that people live out, and social scientists, scholars, and those in the creative arts continue to study and suggest ways to change. The construction and reconstruction of race in society has legal, social, economic, and cultural components, all of which taken together, in different combinations, or in isolated experience, make it seem to individuals that race is natural and inevitable, instead of human-made and historically and geographically contingent. Individuals have different physical traits that have already been selected as racial traits before their birth and that prior selec- tion forms a reality to be experienced— lived with compliance or resistance, or both. Such compliance reproduces or maintains and furthers preexisting social race, over time. Resistance has the potential to change the background of racial construction, although any particular act of resistance has unpre- dictable consequences, because it has to be interpreted, supported, and duplicated by other people, in order to be effective. Individuals belong to or are associated with racial groups that are imagined to have general traits and the individual herself comes to have pat- terns of behavior, expectations, and beliefs that pertain to how she regards and presents herself in racial terms. That is, although race is already present in the social world that a child and adult live in, the child and then the adult has the task of forming a racial aspect of the self and presenting that racial identity to others. Society identifies people racially and people come to have racial identities, both as single units and as parts of the groups with which they identify and to which they belong. Thus, to say that race is socially con- structed may refer to only one side of the process of social construction. Society, which is to say, other people, have constructed ideas about race and systems regulating behavior based on race. But human individuals are not mere mirrors of social institutions and the thoughts and actions of other individuals. A complete account of the social construction of race, therefore, includes its construction on the level of individual identities. The social construction of race and racial identities affect many aspects of human life in societies with racial systems, often in profound, unin- tended, and unpredictable ways. There are social constructions that are benign or neutral, for example, the money system and weather reports. Such benign and neutral social constructions usually do not purport to be caused by different underlying physical facts about members of distinct groups, which determine their nature. Race, however, is not a benign social con- struction, because it purports to be based on real biological differences that do not exist. Human aptitudes and capabilities are randomly distributed within different social racial groups, so that differences in achievement are not caused by those traits that society continues to consider racial traits— there are no biological racial traits in the scientific sense and no differences in human value or moral worth based on biological race. Rather, differences in achievement between racial groups are the result of the fact that social racial systems are hierarchical. Racial identities come with predetermined social status and differences in power. Another way of describing this is to say that disadvantaged racial groups and their members are oppressed by more advantaged racial groups and their members. Oppression is unjust treatment or control and when the objects of oppression are racial groups and their members, it is usually called racism. Racism will be the subject of Chapter 7, but it can be difficult to separate racism from the construction of race itself. One clear difference is that even though racial hierarchy is in itself oppressive, not everyone who bene- fits from a system of constructed race or racial hierarchy is necessarily a racist person. There are also aspects of oppression that do not begin from within positions of racial hierarchies, but originate in other hierarchies, such as wealth or gender. In order to account for the emergence of race as an idea and system in modernity, it is necessary to understand the non-racial forms of oppression that preceded race and led to the construction of race. Because racial systems are not caused by natural aspects of race—which do not exist—the underlying motivations for constructing those systems may be masked to participants, by ideology. Racial ideology is a false sys- tem of claims and beliefs about racial differences and racial groups that jus- tifies racial oppression, as well as racial disadvantage. After systems of race have been constructed, racial ideology may be used to justify the actions of oppressive groups and individuals. But racial ideology is psychic and sym- bolic, a form of discourse. To implement racial ideology and serve underly- ing powerful economic and political interests, social technologies of race are necessary (for example, new racial identifications). Ideology and social technologies of race may lead to new constructions of race and with them, new racial identities. The sections of this chapter address several aspects of the social construc- tion of race and identity. First, racial construction for economic reasons will be explored in terms of colonialism and global development. This will be followed by subjects pertaining to processes that occur inside of functioning systems of race: social technologies of race and racism; individual racial iden- tities; models for resisting and deconstructing race. Targeted legal advocacy can cause harm reduction of legal power and resist bad norm, Section 240.37 is the key example from the Campbell 2022 (1ACs Author) Campbell 2022, Maya Campbell, “Perceived to be Deviant”: Social Norms, Social Change, and New York State’s “Walking While Trans” Ban, https://californialawreview.org/print/perceived-to-be-deviantsocial-norms-social-change-and-new-york-states-walking-while-trans-ban/ Throughout the nearly fifty years of the statute’s existence, multiple lawsuits challenged the constitutionality of Section 240.37.[117][117] See, e.g., Smith, 378 N.E.2d at 1036 (holding that Section 240.37 is not unconstitutionally vague as the statute does not grant officers “an impermissible measure of discretion”); D.H., 309 F. Supp. 3d; People v. Martinez, 34 N.Y.S. 3d 558 (N.Y. App. Div. 2016); People v. Butler, 443 N.Y.S.2d 40, 42 (N.Y. City Ct. 1981) (finding that the language of the statute was too ambiguous to be constitutional as Section 240.37 gave police “sole discretion in determining who is or who is not to be arrested . . .”), rev’d, People v. Uplinger, 449 N.Y.S. 2d 916 (N.Y. Cnty. Ct. 1982); People v. Burton, 432 N.Y.S.2d 312, 315 (N.Y. City Ct. 1980) (denying to find Section 240.37 in violation of the equal protection clause of the Fourteenth Amendment as there are “good and sufficient reasons” for why police focus on arresting female sex workers rather than male johns). ... One of the most recent and high-profile lawsuits was the Legal Aid lawsuit, which challenged the law for violating the First and Fourth Amendments. The complaint detailed specific instances of the law’s disparate impact on trans women of color and the myriad restrictions that Section 240.37 placed on their freedom of movement and association. However, the case did not survive a motion to dismiss.[118][118] D.H., 309 F. Supp. 3d at 70–74. Although the court found that the class had suffered an injury due to the discriminatory application of the statute, it also found that the statute was not unconstitutionally vague.[119][119] Id. But efforts to overturn the statute were not strictly cabined to the judiciary. Community groups and organizers attempted to leverage public support to overturn Section 240.37. In 2019, as a result of a broader push to decriminalize sex work,[120][120] See, e.g., Jessica Ramos & Julia Salazar, Decriminalize Sex Work in New York, N.Y. Daily News (Feb. 25, 2019), https://www.nydailynews.com/opinion/ny-oped-decriminalize-sex-work-in-ny-20190221-story.html [https://perma.cc/8KEY-TET5]; see also Fitzgerald et al., supra note 72, at 4 (“The criminalizing and stigmatizing of sex work in the United States can worsen the discrimination and marginalization that transgender people already face in society. Trans sex workers experience harassment and violence, often at the hands of police, and these experiences are heightened for transgender people of color, especially women.”). ... state legislators introduced Assembly Bill A3355[121][121] A parallel bill, Bill S1351, was also introduced in the Senate. As the language between the two bills is the same, I will be referring to the bill by its assembly name. See S.B. S1351, State S., Reg. Sess. (N.Y. 2021), available at https://www.nysenate.gov/legislation/bills/2021/s1351 [https://perma.cc/9ZWM-GWUB]. ... to formally overturn Section 240.37.[122][122] David Klepper, Sex Workers Seek End of ‘Walking While Trans’ Loitering Law, Associated Press (May 7, 2019), https://apnews.com/article/2eb3876a208d48929db1c2dae769129f [https://perma.cc/4YRK-2MLL]. ... The bill was explicit in its purpose: it sought to repeal Section 240.37 due to its “arbitrary and discriminatory enforcement by targeting women from marginalized groups that are at high risk for sex trafficking and other exploitation and abuse.”[123][123] Memorandum, A.B. A3355, 2021 State Assemb., Reg. Sess. (N.Y. 2021), https://nyassembly.gov/leg/?Actions=Y&Memo=Y&Summary=Y&Text=Y&Votes=Y&bn=A03355&term [https://perma.cc/5BXG-U8MJ]. The memorandum lists “concerns about the law’s constitutionality” as a key reason for the overturn of Section 240.37. The memorandum specifically mentions Section 240.37’s disparate impact on transgender and cisgender women of color. ... A3355 struck much of the vague language from Section 240.37, eliminating “loitering for the purpose of engaging in a prostitution offense” and narrowing the scope of the provision to specifically address and protect sexually exploited youth.[124][124] A.B. A3355, 2021 State Assemb., Reg. Sess. (N.Y. 2021), https://nyassembly.gov/leg/?Actions=Y&Memo=Y&Summary=Y&Text=Y&Votes=Y&bn=A03355&term [https://perma.cc/5BXG-U8MJ]. “Sexually exploited youth” are defined as “persons under the age of 18 who have been subjected to sexual exploitation because they are (a) are the victim of a crime of sex trafficking . . . ; (b) engage in any act as defined in section 230.00 of the penal law; (c) are a victim of the crime of compelling prostitution as defined in section 230.33 of the penal law; (d) are a victim of the crime of sex trafficking of a child as defined in section 230.34-a of the penal law; or (e) engage in acts or conduct described in two hundred sixty-three of the penal law.” A3355(d). ... A3355 was one of many attempts to overturn Section 240.37. An earlier version of the bill was introduced in 2016 but made no progress in the New York Senate.[125][125] Id. By the end of 2020, the New York City Council passed a series of resolutions to repeal Section 240.37.[126][126] Matt Tracy, City Council Passes Walking While Trans Repeal Resolutions, Gay City News (Dec. 10, 2020), https://www.gaycitynews.com/city-council-passes-walking-while-trans-repeal-resolutions/ [https://perma.cc/23T6-3H89]. ... Although the resolutions carried only symbolic rather than legal effect, they placed additional pressure on the state senate to act. And they were successful. On February 2, 2021, then-New York Governor Andrew Cuomo signed legislation to overrule Section 240.37.[127][127]Supra note 74. Asserting that the law’s “extremely broad definition of loitering” led to its disparate impact on trans women of color and commending the advocacy of community organizers, Governor Cuomo proclaimed that the “‘walking while trans’ policy is one example of the ugly undercurrents of injustices that transgender New Yorkers—especially those of color—face for simply walking down the street.”[128][128] Id. IV. The Lasting Legacy of Section 240.37 Section 240.37’s longevity and the endurance of similar bans nationwide are a consequence of the role that these statutes play in the national norm-making effort. These bans solidified the boundaries around who and what is acceptable, and in doing so, played a critical role in upholding the cis-heteronormative national identity. Traditional civil rights discourse, particularly the idea that full justice and equality can be reached through the same systems that have been deployed to deny deviant groups full humanity, would suggest that overturning Section 240.37 should have brought an end to the state’s abuse and bias against trans women of color and other impacted marginalized groups.[129][129] See Memorandum, A.B. A654, 2019 State Assemb., Reg. Sess. (N.Y. 2019), https://nyassembly.gov/leg/?default_fld=&leg_video=&bn=A00654&term=2019&Summary=Y&Memo=Y [https://perma.cc/H84D-8ZLR]. ... Further, multiple advocacy and civil rights groups called for the statute’s overturning as part of the movement to decriminalize sex work.[130][130] See Decrim NY, https://www.decrimny.org/ [https://perma.cc/82MS-MRX7]; Fitzgerald et al., supra note 72, at 26–29. ... And this activism ultimately led to Section 240.37’s repeal,[131][131] Governor Cuomo, other New York legislators, and activists all cited to the work of grassroots advocates, largely trans women of color, who played an essential role in building support and awareness about Section 240.37. See, e.g., Press Release, Carl E. Heastie, Assembly Passes Repeal of the Walking While Trans Ban (Feb. 2, 2021), https://nyassembly.gov/Press/?sec=story&story=95254 [https://perma.cc/6KZZ-DBHG] (“We thank grassroots advocates, led by the Repeal Walking While Trans coalition, for their strong advocacy on this bill and we look forward to the day when the repeal takes effect.”); Office of Children and Family Services, Legislation Repeals the ‘Walking While Trans’ Ban (Feb. 2, 2021), https://ocfs.ny.gov/main/news/article.php?idx=2200 [https://perma.cc/JY6S-A4KB] (“[W]e thank all the advocates, led by Black and [B]rown trans women, for all the sweat equity, dedication, passion, pain, and work we put into this campaign.”). ... which, on its face, seems to be sufficient to end the fight against Section 240.37’s harms. However, given the nation’s interest in cis-heteronormativity and White supremacy, Section 240.37’s underlying goals cannot be fully eradicated, because the national identity is not so easily removed. Though Section 240.37 has been overturned, its removal does not solve the wider structural issue of law enforcement employing the same discriminatory, norm-based judgments and stigmas to make arrests.[132][132] Consider, for example, the fact that the NYPD continued to use condoms as a pretext to arrest people suspected of violating 240.37 even after the statute was amended to forbid this. See Mogulescu, supra note 108, at 84. ... The criminal justice system, the legal system, and by extension, the prison industrial complex,[133][133] Spade, supra note 8, at 3 (“‘Prison industrial complex’ suggests that multiple, connected processes and forces determine how certain populations get labeled as ‘criminal,’ how certain behaviors and actions come to be classified as crimes, how racist ideas are mobilized to justify an expansion of imprisonment systems, how various financial interests are implicated in motivating law enforcement expansion, and how criminalization and imprisonment filter through every aspect of how we live and understand ourselves and the world.”). ... function as a form of regular violence and systemic removal of non-normative individuals. As long as these systems exist and the same normative framework persists, trans women of color will always be seen as aberrant. As stated by one Legal Aid attorney, even “[a]s we continue to chip away at [those] undeserving of arrest . . . trans women will always fall in the criminalized and vilified category.”[134][134] Whitford, supra note 113. While overruling the “Walking While Trans” Ban and decriminalizing sex work more broadly will have immediate and positive effects on the lives of the people that it victimized,[135][135] See Decrim NY, https://www.decrimny.org/ [https://perma.cc/82MS-MRX7]; Fitzgerald et al., supra note 72. ... the Ban was only part of the broader national system crafted to maintain the division between normative and non-normative and to define our body politic. Thus, that the New York legislature has overturned Section 240.37 is only a small fraction of the necessary progress. There is still an entire apparatus—legal and otherwise—that exists to marginalize, remove, and aberrate trans people, particularly trans people of color.[136][136] States across the nation continue to pass legislation to remove trans people from public life. In just the past four months, at least thirteen bills have introduced seeking to create a felony ban on providing gender-affirming treatment for trans youth. See Chase Strangio’s tracker of anti-trans legislation, Chase Strangio (@chasestrangio), Twitter (Nov. 12, 2020, 7:35 AM), https://twitter.com/chasestrangio/status/1326911594215989248?s=20 [https://perma.cc/V3NE-FFG4]; see, e.g., H.B. 1, 2021 H.R., Reg. Sess. (Ala. 2021), http://alisondb.legislature.state.al.us/ALISON/SearchableInstruments/2021RS/PrintFiles/HB1-int.pdf [https://perma.cc/4H48-WB4G]; S.B. 331, 58th Leg., 1st Sess. (Okla. 2021), http://webserver1.lsb.state.ok.us/cf_pdf/2021-22%20INT/SB/SB331%20INT.PDF [https://perma.cc/8YNWQALM]. In addition to these harms, many of these bills also force the unconstitutional disclosure to the parents of trans youth who are seeking medical care or to otherwise participate in public life. See, e.g., S. B. 2171, 2021 Leg., Reg. Sess. (Miss. 2021) http://billstatus.ls.state.ms.us/documents/2021/pdf/SB/2100-2199/SB2171IN.pdf [https://perma.cc/D58J-BQ4S]. ... And as shown in the preceding Parts, Section 240.37 is just a part of a long legacy of norm-enforcing laws; laws that depended not just on the police and criminal justice system to enforce, but also on community participation to make and reaffirm these norms as real.[137][137] See supra Part III. To undo the damage and unravel the nation’s property interest in the maintenance of normative identity, community-based efforts need to play just as central of a role in efforts to eradicate harmful norms. In her examination of the Movement for Black Lives organizational platform, Amna Akbar described the Black-led movement’s animating question as “what if law reform was not targeted towards seeing what kind of improvements we can make to the current system, but was instead geared toward building a state governed by different logics . . . ?”[138][138] Amna A. Akbar, Toward a Radical Imagination of Law, 93 N.Y.U. L. Rev. 405, 479 (2018). ... Here, I am posing a similar question: what if reform was not targeted toward seeing what kind of improvements we can make to the current system, but was instead geared toward building a non-bordered state, free from normative governance? A. The Maintenance of Harms Even in a climate where a law has been overturned, harm towards those deemed deviant persists. As Amna Akbar stated: “law is not fair, it does not treat people equally, and its violence is lethal and routine.”[139][139] Amna A. Akbar, Law’s Exposure: The Movement and the Legal Academy, 65 J. Legal Educ. 352, 355 (2015). ... Law scholar and sociologist Ryan Goodman explained the symbiotic relationship between law and society, writing that “laws arise from a culture” and culture fr om laws.[140][140] Parents Involved in Community Schools v. Seattle School Dist. No. 1, 551 U.S. 701, 795 (2007) (Kennedy, J., concurring) (cited in john a. powell, Law and the Significance of Plessy, 7 Russell Sage Found. J. Soc. Sci. 20, 26). ... In his comparative analysis of sodomy laws in the United States and South Africa, Goodman argued that sodomy laws, even when unenforced, are “an expression of public sentiment (without recognizing that the laws, in fact, also help to generate that sentiment) [which] obscures the complexity of law’s dynamic relationship with society and systems of social control.”[141][141] Goodman, supra note 47, at 663. Relying on empirical evidence, Goodman asserted that “even in a climate of nonenforcement, considerable harm still results.”[142][142] Id. at 664. In short, what our society has come to view as acceptable and aberrant is, in large part, due to the laws that dominant political forces have passed. Yet, though these historical laws have long been overturned, their damage remains. While Goodman’s research engaged with history “only insofar as [it] inform[s] individuals’ current sensibilities,” as argued in Part I, theoretical frameworks all emphasize the inherent importance of history as an essential norm-building platform.[143][143] See generally Spade, supra note 8. Take, for example, john a. powell’s examination of the historical and current legacy of Plessy v. Ferguson. Powell argued that though Plessy has been long overturned, the question of how to delineate public state action and private activity—Plessy’s central tension—has never been clearly resolved.[144][144] Powell, supra note 140, at 26. Powell continues “[I]n fact the sharp distinction has been rejected by some leading jurists.” In effect, this is still an open question and a continual tension in civil rights and anti-discrimination law. ... Powell charted this anxiety through Plessy’s desegregation progeny, arguing that Plessy is a “continuing stain” through which our current jurisprudence shields “de facto segregation from a mandatory constitutional remedy.”[145][145] Id. at 30, 27. Plessy’s legacy has lived on well past Brown through the War on Drugs, Jim Crow, police brutality, mass incarceration, and redlining to name a few examples. As a result, despite the impact of Brown and other cases, Black Americans are still excluded from full citizenship and White Americans continue to reserve state privileges for their own benefit and thus preserve their property interests.[146][146] Id. at 26–27. Just as powell drew a line from the long-overturned Plessy to continued, present-day segregation, it is possible to draw a through line from older laws weaponized against trans and gender non-conforming people to the rampant social stigmatization and every day violence endured by trans women of color. Like powell pointed out with Plessy, though Section 240.37 has been overturned, the continuing stain of the underlying history and stigma that accompany the law will persist. Once formed, a normative concept has its own inertia and only through multiple forces can the stigmas that have been embedded in our social fabric be erased. The lasting stigma[147][147] For a discussion of stigma and (de)criminalization, see Julia Hughes, Perfectly Legal, but Still Bad: Lessons for Sex Work from the Decriminalization of Abortion, 68 U. New Brunswick L.J. 232, 234 (2017) (“Destigmatization may follow decriminalization . . . or precede it.”). ... that these bans have placed on trans women of color is a key example of one such concept. The very existence of the laws has created and reaffirmed the notion that trans women of color are aberrant and that their very existence is non-normative. Each part of the foundational structure of the United States—our laws, how violence and injustice are meted out and rectified, our social ordering—has been constructed to maintain the nation’s foundation and to preserve the norms and interests that are embedded within it. Even without Section 240.37 and its kin, trans women—particularly trans women of color—experience higher levels of discrimination than the broader U.S. population. The 2015 United States Transgender Survey reported that trans people of color were “more than three times as likely as the U.S. population (12%) to be living in poverty” and that the unemployment rate for trans people of color was four times higher than that of the general population.[148][148] Sandy E. James, Jody L. Herman, Susan Rankin, Mara Keisling, Lisa Mottet & Ma’ayan Anafi, Executive Summary of the Report of the 2015 U.S. Transgender Survey 6 (2016). ... These statistics are a direct result of the normative goals of the United States. However, despite the feedback loop of laws and the normative national identity, the work that community-based organizations do outside of the law provides insight into how norms can be challenged by the collective power of those considered deviant. The story of the push to overturn Section 240.37 is a key example of trans women of color organizing to chip away at the normative boundaries that actively harm them. Organizations like the Movement for Black Lives and actions like Brooklyn’s June 2020 March for Black Trans Lives, which was organized by trans women of color and their allies specifically to spread awareness about the everyday violence and police brutality faced by trans women of color, are prime examples of this work.[149][149] Anushka Patil, How a March for Black Trans Lives Became a Huge Event, N.Y. Times (June 15, 2020), https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/15/nyregion/brooklyn-black-trans-parade.htm [https://perma.cc/NZL3-WV9T]. ... With over fifteen thousand people in attendance, the “Brooklyn Liberation” march was one of the largest organized marches in New York history.[150][150] Id. Organized by trans women of color and allies, the march was a type of calling-in, asking the nation to recognize all the ways that society has harmed trans people.[151][151] Id. Described by its organizers as a “‘new, grander version’ of the power of community that queer and trans people of color have always had,” the June 2020 march was a visible challenge to community commitment to the maintenance of normative borders.[152][152] Id. Rather than attempting to shift the normative national identity, these movements push against the idea that those perceived to be deviant must be rendered invisible from public space. Instead, they propose a new logic: reimagining how assigned deviance, though still antithetical to normative national identity, can and should exist in public space. In effect, the June 2020 march is only one example of decades of work, both legal and otherwise, done by trans activists—particularly trans women of color— to push against our nation’s normative borders.[153][153] I am thinking particularly of pioneering trans activists such as Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson who were both seminal figures in the queer and trans rights movements. See, e.g., Tourmaline, Sylvia Rivera and Marsha P. Johnson’s Fight to Free Incarcerated Trans Women of Color is Far From Over, Vogue (June 29, 2019), https://www.vogue.com/article/tourmaline-trans-day-of-action-op-ed [https://perma.cc/99XM-R48F]; Jason Wu, Look to Queer and Trans Leaders to Reclaim Revolutionary Possibilities, Thirteen (Oct. 26, 2021), https://www.thirteen.org/blog-post/queertrans-leaders-reclaim-revolutionary-possibilities/ [https://perma.cc/GJ5W-AURJ]. ... The march is but one in a long legacy of public resistance. Each instance is an example of imagining how our nation could reorient itself in building a non-bordered state, free from normative governance. But to make this reimagination complete, power and property interests need to be reoriented—ceded from the “normative” to those categorized as deviant. It requires a wider dismantling of categories and allowing those who have been dispossessed to reorient the national image. Conclusion In his critique of the liberatory potential of the administrative state, Dean Spade argued that the only way to understand the relationship between power and “transphobic harm” is to shift attention away from traditional framings of individual rights and instead to consider “how gender categories are enforced on all people in ways that have particularly dangerous outcomes for trans people.”[154][154] Spade, supra note 8, at 9. The same refocusing must continue to be employed here. To overrule Section 240.37 is not enough to eradicate the harmful divisions between normative and deviant that have stigmatized queer and trans women of color. The goal of this Note is to articulate the fact that the United States and the systems it has crafted will not—by reason of self-preservation—be able to act in the best interest of all the people who are present within the nation’s physical borders. As a result, changing the law on the books is not This work affirms that those that who are perceived to be deviant still exist and belong within the national image. sufficient and will likely not do enough to reimagine the divisions between normative and deviant. However, despite our nation’s normative borders, radical community-centered work led by those perceived to be deviant pushes against state forces of social removal. 1NC---Offense 1---Colonialism DA---The aff locks in colonialism---their cited authors. Byrd 11 [Jodi A., Associate Professor of English and American Indian Studies at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, The Transit of Empire: Indigenous Critiques of Colonialism, 2011, p 11-17] // And while Deleuze and Guattari’s thought requires what Shapiro describes as “uncommon sense” and, as a result, positions mapping and frontiers within the rhizome as the process through which to proliferate dominant and resistant overlapping deterritorializations and reterritorializations into motion, and ultimately smooth space out of striated hierarchical order, such processes, it must be acknowledged, are also colonialist even in non-cartographic form.45 The maps of settler colonialism were always already proliferative, the nation-state’s borders were always perforated, and the U.S. lines of flight across the treaties with indigenous nations were always rhizomatic and fluid rather than hierarchical, linear, and coherent, located not just in the nation-state but within the individual settlers and arrivants who saw indigenous lands as profit, fortune, and equality. In many ways, that is their point. Deleuze and Guattari re/deterritorialize America as the world, coming full circle to find its west in its east and its east in its west, a worlding anew, in GayatriSpivak’s terms, that decenters all static, grounded belongings and locates them instead in becomings: becoming-Indian, becoming-woman, becoming- America. At the least, it can be said that A Thousand Plateaus answers Cherokee, Choctaw, and Irish American scholar Louis Owens’s concerns with the geographic homonym of “Indian” in his critique of postcolonial theory in “As If an Indian Were Really an Indian” with a “Yes they are!”46 But the matter of the rhizomatic American West’s “Indians without ancestry” still lingers alongside Derrida’s “tattooed savages." If they have no genealogy and exist sui generis, how might we account for the historical and colonialist traces that accompany their appearance in Deleuze and Guattarri’s theory as sign, while retaining sympathy for the impulse to nonrepresentational philosophy that aligns in a multiplicity of regimes of signs? Elsewhere, Gilles Deleuze writes: The pharaoh’s tomb, with its inert central chamber at the base of the pyramid, gives way to more dyabnamic models: from the drifting of continents to the migrations of peoples, these are all means through which the unconscious maps the universe. The Indian model replaces the Egyptian: the Indians pass into the thickness of the rocks themselves, where aesthetic form is no longer identified with the commemoration of a departure or an arrival, but with the creation of paths without memory.47 The Indian model, like the nomad, assembles for Deleuze the site of movement, escape, difference—it is a stateless war machine, existing outside of and rupturing the state. The rhizome, which is described as an orchid in relation with the wasp, their becomings and unbecomings, is transversal scramble, antigenealogical and always proceeding through re/deterritorializations by both the orchid and the wasp.48 The rhizome, for Deleuze and Guattari, stands in Eastern, Oceanic counterpoint to the linear tree— arborescence—of descent, seed, and Western agriculture, and is short-term rather than long historical memory.49 One must remember, though, that GayatriSpivak’s question “Can the Subaltern Speak?” was first posed as a critique of Deleuze and Michel Foucault, who seemed in their theorizations to suggest that the subaltern already was speaking through them, through the ventriloquism of the left intellectual.50 In an aside about the “ferocious motif of deterritorialization in Deleuze and Guattari” Spivak adds, “we have already spoken of the sanctioned ignorance that every critic of imperialism must chart.”51 The Indian model, which disappears into rocks and creates paths without memory, serves as an ontological trap within theorizations that follow those paths to articulate alternative spaces outside processes of recognitions and states, arrivals and departures. 2---Archive DA---The aff’s reach into the archive repeats the very violence against blackness they uncover. Refuse this enumerated repetition of death as it permanently affixes blackness into a state of pain and suffering. McKittrick, Associate Professor of Gender Studies at Queen’s University, ’14 [Katherine, “Mathematics Black Life”, The Black Scholar, 44:2, 2014,RSR] In Saidya Hartman's "Venus in Two Acts," she returns to the deaths of two young African girls who were both violently and brutally killed on the middle passage. Raped, strung up, whipped to death, dying alone: This is the information Hartman pieces together from the ship's ledger and financial accounts, the captain's log book, and the court case that dismissed the charges of murder against Captain John Timber, the 16 man who caused the deaths of the girls. The archive of black diaspora is, as Hartman rightly suggests, "a death sentence, a tomb, a display of a violated body, an inventory of property, a medical treatise ... an asterisk in the grand narrative of history." 1 The asterisked archives are filled with bodies that can only come into being vis-a-vis racialsexual violence; the documents and ledgers and logs that narrate the brutalities of this history give birth to new world blackness as they evacuate life from blackness. Breathless, archival numerical evidence puts pressure on our present system of knowledge by affirming the knowable (black objecthood) and disguising the untold (black human being). The slave's status as object-commodity, or purely economic cargo, reveals that a black archival presence not only enumerates the dead and dying, but also acts as an origin story. This is where we begin, this is where historic blackness comes from: the list, the breathless numbers, the absolutely economic, the mathematics of the unliving. Recall then, aboard the ship Peggy, aboard the ship Prosperous Amelia, aboard the brig Nancy. The ledgers read: Samuel Minton, 60 years, nearly worn out ... Formerly slave to Thomas Minton, Norfolk, Virginia ... Gilbert Lafferts, 21 years, likely lad, Mr. James Henderson's possession, proved to be the property of Mr. James Henderson ... Master & Bill of Sale produced ... Anny Bolton, 42, stout wench, Uames Alexander). Formerly the property of Thomas Bolton, Nansemond, Virginia ... Jenny Frederick, 32 years, ordinary wench ... Certified to be free by Jonah Frederick of Boston, New England ... Betty Rapelje, 21, stout wench, (Peter Brown) ... Says she was born free at Newtown, Long lsland.2 Worn out, bill of sale produced, certified to be free, ordinary wench, proved to be the property of, formerly slave to, formerly the property of, all with parenthetic possessors. New world blackness arrives through the ordinary, proved, former, certified, nearly worn-out archives of ledgers, accounts, price tags, and descriptors of economic worth and financial probability. The list of slaves upon these ships is a list of propertied commode ties. The slave is possession, proved to be property. Yet a voice interrupts: says she. It follows that black freedom is embedded within an economy of race and violence and unfolds as an indeterminate impossibility: wench, property of, likely lad, nearly worn out; certified to be free, says she was born free, formerly slave to. Says she was born free. The brutalities of transatlantic slavery, summed up in archival histories that give us a bit of (asterisked-violated) blackness, put meaningful demands on our scholarly and activist questions. While the tenets and the lingering histories of slavery and colonialism produced modernity as and with and through blackness, this sense of timespace is interrupted by a more weighty, and seemingly truthful (truthful and truth-telling because iterated as scientific, proven, certified, objective), underside-where black is naturally malignant and therefore worthy of violation; where black is violated because black is naturally violent; where black is naturally unbelievable and is therefore naturally empty and violated; where black is naturally less-than-human and starving to death and violated; where black is naturally dysselected, unsurviving, swallowed up; where black is same and always and dead and dying; where black is complex and difficult and too much to bear and violated.3 The tolls of death and violence, housed in the archive, affirm black death. The tolls cast black as impossibly human and provide the conditions through which black history is currently told and studied. The death toll becomes the source. The tolls inevitably uncover, too, analyses of histories and narratives and stories and data that honor and repeat and cherish anti-black violence and black death. If the source of blackness is death and violence, the citation of blackness-the scholarly stories we tell-calls for the repetition of death and violence. The practice of taking away life is followed by the sourcing and citation of racial-sexual death and racial-sexual violence and blackness is (always already and only) cast inside the mathematics of unlivi ngness (data/scientifically proven/certified violation/asterisk) where black comes to be (a bit).4 Indeed, if blackness originates and emerges in violence and death, black futures are foreclosed by the dead and dying asterisks. And if the dead and dying are the archival and asterisked cosmogonies of blackness, within our present system of knowledge-a system, to paraphrase Frantz Fanon, where the subhuman is invited to become human on terms that require antiblack sentiment-scraps and bits of black I ife and death and narrative are guaranteed to move toward, to progress into, unlivingness and anti-blackness. 5 With this in mind we would do well to notice that scholarly and activist questions can, at times, be so tightly tied to bits and pieces of narratives that dwell on anti-black violence and black racial deathseeking out and reprising "terrible utterances" to reclaim and recuperate black loss and somehow make it all the less terrible-that our answerable analytical futures are also condemned to death.6 Put differently, historically present anti-black violence is repaired by reproducing knowledge about the black subjects that renders them less than human. It is a descriptive analytics of violence. The cyclical and death-dealing numeration of the condemned remains in tact, at least in part, through analytical pathways that are beholden to a system of knowledge that descriptively rehearses antiblack violences and in this necessarily refuses decolonial thinking. How then do we think and write and share as decolonial scholars and foster a commitment to acknowledging violence and undoing its persistent frame, rather than simply analytically reprising violence? How do we ethically engage with mathematical and numerical certainties that compile, affirm, and honor bits and pieces of black death? In order to underscore the urgency here, it is worth thinking about the ways in which slave ship and plantation ledgers unfold into a series of crude and subjugating post-slave accounts: The rule in the courts was that a drop of blood made you black; just walking around looking about/This guy looks like he is up to no good or he is on drugs or something; the accusation was beginning to take on a familiar tone ... EmmettTill ... Scottsboro ... Armed with his new political powers Diluilo came to have access to billions of dollars in public funds to launch a program to reform the superpredators by exorcising the evil he saw in them; three-quarters of the persons arrested for such crimes were Negro ... in Detroit, the same proportions held .... Negro males represent 2.1 percent of all male technicians while Negro females represent roughly 10 percent of all female technicians .... It would appear therefore that there are proportionately 4 times as many Negro females in significant white collar jobs than Negro males; these assholes, they always get away; it would come to be based on degrees of selected genetic merit (or eugenics) versus differential degrees of the dysselected lack of this merit: differential degrees of, to use the term made famous by The Bell Curve, "dysgenicity."7 We can think of more accounts, more numbers, more math. In Demonic Grounds, I suggest that the markers of captivity so tightly adhere to the black body that seeing blackness involves our collective willingness to collapse it into a signifier of dispossession.8 While I certainly suggest there, as I do here, that black dispossession reveals the limits of our present geographic order and opens up a way to imagine new modes of black geographic thought, it is challenging to think outside the interlocking data of black erasure, unfreedom, and anti-black violence. Putting pressure on archive numbers that, particularly in the case of the middle passage and plantation life, are the only documents that tell us about the ways in which the practice of slavery set the stage for our present struggles with racism, is difficult. So, what do we do with the archival documentation that displays this unfree and violated body as both naturally dispossessed and as the origin of new world black lives? How do we come to terms with the inventory of numbers and the certain economic brutalities that introduce blackness-the mathematics of the unliving, the certification of unfreedam-and give shape to how we now I ive our lives? And what does it mean that, when confronting these numbers and economic descriptors and stories of murder and commonsense instances of anti-black violence, some of us are pulled into that Fanonian moment, where our neurological synapses and our motor-sensory replies do not result in relieved gasps of nostalgia or knowing gasps of present emancipation (look how far we have come/slavery is over/get over slavery/ post-race/look how far) but instead dwell in the awfulness of seeing ourselves and our communities in those numbers now?9 This is the future the archives have given me. Yet, the Fanonian moment also disturbs to ask not how we get over the awfulness and brutality, but rather how do we live with it, differently, right now and therefore imagine what Sylvia Wynter describes as "being human as praxis"?10 In what follows, I move with the numbers and begin to work out how the uncomfortable mathematics of black life can inform current and future formations of black studies. I suggest that black studies not only names and posits the violent arithmetics of the archive, but that this citation of violence also can and should no longer ethically repeat this violence. Indeed, while not always honored, the intellectual project of black studies-with its long history of citing and surviving racial violence in numbers-provides a deliberate commentary on the ways in which blackness works against the violence that defines it. Thus, across a range of thinkers-! note Dionne Brand, Sylvia Wynter, Audre Lorde, Frantz Fanon, but there are more and many to add-there is a careful effort to show that if we are to name the violent displacement of black cultures, this must be done by both noticing and undoing the compulsion to inhabit safe and comfortable places within the very system that cannot survive without anti-blackness. Indeed, the research of W. E. B. Du Bois, who turns knowable racial numbers in on themselves to ask how the race is both fixed and unfixed by social conditions, is especially notable here. 11