Digital resources in the Social Sciences and Humanities OpenEdition Our platforms OpenEdition Books OpenEdition Journals Hypotheses Calenda Libraries OpenEdition Freemium Follow us

biopolitics, Closure for Our Journey with “The Right to Maim” // evaluation // next semester // semester closing event

Unfortunately I must cancel our final seminar session on 5.2.2024 due to a required scholalry staff meeting at the university. To make up for the missed discussion time, I invite you to participate in the following reflective activity:

Spend 30-60 minutes writing an internal dialogue between yourself at the beginning of this course and yourself now at the end. What key insights, questions, or critiques would you highlight from your intellectual journey with Puar’s text? How have your perspectives shifted or been complicated?

Then, post 1-2 questions or reflections from this dialogue on the course blog by [date]. These can be areas you still find confusing, moments that felt revealing or unsettling, ideas you want to explore further, or ways Puar’s concepts have informed how you look at the world.

Though we cannot meet in person, this will help synthesize our collective learning over the term. I will respond briefly to each post during the individual follow-up meetings on 12.2.2024. Please contact me if you have any questions.

I want to acknowledge that this has been an unusual semester with many disruptions and schedule changes due to circumstances beyond our control. From transit strikes to staff actions, we navigated various challenges together. While this impacted the flow of our discussions at times, I am grateful for your patience, empathy, and continued engagement with the course material and each other in the midst of uncertainty. I believe we found meaning in Puar’s text despite a sometimes “fuzzy” journey.

Please take a few minutes to provide your feedback on this course via https://lehrevaluation.fu-berlin.de/productive/en/sl/mUhkCt5e4502 . Your perspectives will help me improve courses in this module (Reading the Middle East) for future students.

I’m also excited to announce a new course for next semester – “Peering Through the Artificial Looking Glass: AI and the Middle East”:

Take a journey through the AI looking glass to examine how intelligent technologies are reshaping the Middle East. This seminar provides a critical perspective on AI, moving beyond the hype to probe its emerging influence across the region’s economies, societies, politics, and cultures.

Blending theory with regional insights, we will interpret AI’s impacts on issues from climate change and labor markets to surveillance and geopolitics. The course catalyzes debate on AI’s promises and perils, equipping students to assess its transformative potential with wisdom and nuance.

Lectures situate empirical studies within conceptual frameworks like Crawford’s “Atlas of AI.” Multidisciplinary readings and discussions consider how AI could either entrench or transform power structures. Student projects analyze AI case studies, from Emirati space programs to Saudi data initiatives.

This seminar charts AI’s expansion across a complex region. It eschews simplistic techno-utopian narratives, favoring nuanced and evidence-based perspectives. Join us as we peer critically yet optimistically through the artificial looking glass at the Middle East’s unfolding AI future.

I hope to see some of you there!

Thank you again for your thoughtful participation during an eventful semester – I have learned a great deal from you all. I wish you the very best going forward.

Best wishes, Victoria.

PS: Don’t forget that the semester closing event of the Department of History and Cultural Studies will take place on Wednesday, Feb 14, as of 6 PM in the lecture hall -1.2009 in the Holzlaube; the Iranian Studies institute has organized food and beverages.

biopolitics, session #14: postscript

Read Puar, Jasbir K. 2017. The Right to Maim. Durham. Duke University Press. Postscript. 155-162.

Contribute to the blog by commenting on the readings and discussions. See ‘requirements’ for details.

writing seminar, essay on the power of citations and the diversity of narration in academic writing

Academic writing conventions often portray citation as a tactical tool for establishing scholarly credibility. By citing prominent theorists, we exhibit fluency in the field’s conceptual lexicon. Yet this narrow view of citation as intellectual credentialing overlooks its deeper rhetorical and relational significance. Beyond just demonstrating credibility, the act of citing contains generative power to validate marginalized perspectives, spur intersubjective dialogues, and catalyze theoretical evolution.

A traditional perspective sees citation as a one-way street of knowledge transmission – consuming information from past luminaries to buttress one’s own claims. However, TRUE citation functions cooperatively and dynamically. It not only extracts ideas from cited texts, but expands their insights by bringing them into conversation with new contexts. Diverse voices “think with” and through each other across time and space via citation. The most profound citations utilize the wisdom of past thinkers not as rigid dogma, but as kindling to spark new, contextually-attuned interpretations.

Likewise, the political and ethical dimensions of citation extend far beyond intellectual credibility. Strategic references validate the experiences of marginalized groups and highlight counter-canons excluded from mainstream citations narratives. Rather than always citing the “biggest names,” responsible citation uplifts oppressed peoples’ situated knowledge. It recenters dialogues around perspectives often denied seats at the academic table. Moreover, mindful citation acknowledges the inherent subjectivity and partiality of knowledge claims. It eschews portraying any scholarship – including one’s own – as detached, universal truth. Citation implicates ourselves within nested intersubjective discourses, not above them.

At its deepest level, citation is an act of generative relationality. It draws dispersed insights into fertile contact, gesturing toward possibilities greater than the sum of their parts. Like adding new hues to a palette, calibrated citations enrich the shades of meaning in academic conversations. Through cascading processes of acknowledgment, referral, and exchange, citation interweaves texts and thinkers. It enables accumulation not of discrete ideas but of shared resonance across difference. In this sense, thoughtful citation enacts ecological reciprocity: cycling accumulated wisdom through ongoing cycles of renewal, recontextualization, and replenishment.

By moving past it’s framing as a tactical credentialling maneuver, we can reclaim citation’s tremendous power – to validate multiplicity, to convene excluded voices, to hold knowledge as situated, to take up the wisdom of others as kindling for new insights. Citation as generative, intersubjective, cooperative. Citation as the heartbeat of evolving theoretical ecosystems. With this expanded vision, our citational practices deepen from displays of intellectual authority toward profound expressions of inclusive scholarly community.

writing seminar, 4 + 1 variations of writing on the same topic with different citation and narrative styles

A

The Role of Public Space in Social Movements in the Middle East

The nexus between power and place manifests vividly in the context of public spaces within Middle Eastern social movements. As Michel Foucault explored, power dynamics become embedded into the very construction of space, with public squares and streets operating as physical loci where authority intersects with resistance (Foucault, 1977). As loci where authoritative structures intersect with communal action, civic squares, streets, and parks comprise unique stages upon which the drama of dissent unfolds. Though temporal in their tangibility, these sites of assembly solidify into anchors of collective identity, liberated loci where counter-hegemonies crystallize against regimes of control.

Yet public spaces signify more than physical venues of protest; they emerge as arenas where social contracts are contested, and new vocabularies of change articulated. Within their bounds, authority stands subject to interrogation as dissenters transform designated zones of conformity into centers of nonviolent resistance. As Habermas theorized the “public sphere” (Habermas, 1991), spectacles like Tahrir ignite globally not just for their marbled monuments but for their now-hallowed capacity to focus fledgling hopes for reform through nonviolent action, a process Hannah Arendt positioned as central to claiming political freedom (Arendt, 1958).

However, a reductive binary of oppression versus liberation inadequately captures the nuances within. For beyond its surface narrative of conflict exists a deeper substratum where power relations entangle in less visible ways. Take gender as one salient example—while women stand undeniably at the vanguard of regional reform efforts today, public space in traditional Middle Eastern contexts conferred male privilege, delimiting feminine access and visibility. As Bourdieu would note, public squares can operate as social fields that reinforce gender hierarchies by constraining women’s social capital and agency (Bourdieu, 1985).

Thus, modern protest forums precipitate new paradoxes—liberating yet potentially perilous all at once. By occupying civic squares, female activists gain greater authorship over political processes from which they historically stood excluded, yet concurrently court intensified threats of assault as normative protections weaken. In transforming public space, they transform themselves through “acts of creative dissent” (Arendt, 1958), destabilizing gendered spatial conventions—a profoundly disruptive ripple effect. Still, such changes neither linear nor universal, but variegated across both time and place as protest movements evolve.

Nor are spaces static backdrops against which dramas unfold; they emerge as fluid, reciprocal drivers, actively shaping the contours of mobilization. As an enduring artifact of colonial urban planning, the central plaza imports a Western spatial paradigm into Middle Eastern cities, its rational gridiron geometries often sitting at odds with the surrounding Medina’s crooked alleys—an enduring imprint of hegemonic power on regional capitals. Thus, dissent against local rule today equally channels deep residues of resistance against historical foreign domination. As sites of intersection between state authority and public agency (Weber, 1978), territorial control over such space’s factors centrally into social movements’ capacity to challenge power hierarchies.

Equally, while virtual spaces afford alternate venues for coordination, physical loci like Liberty/Tahrir Square focalize imagination in site-specific ways no pixelated forum can wholly replicate. In rendering gathering visible, such epicenters invest collective action with bodily solidarity that galvanizes risk against repressive retaliation. Ultimately public spaces’ role within Middle Eastern social movements reveals multiplicities; they at once liberate and endanger, include and exclude, channel both contemporary resistance and enduring historical grievances. Simple binaries of oppression versus dissent fail to capture their nuances. Rather public squares emerge as complex topographies—fulcrum points between authority and freedom where power stands openly contested, yet concurrently zones of everyday collision between identities and structures long interwoven into surrounding cityscapes. It is at this messy intersection between enduring tensions and emerging solidarities, place and process, contingency and durability, that social movements stake their claim over Middle Eastern futures still in formation. The outcomes remain unpredictably fluid, but hardly indifferent to the spaces now explosively reclaimed in dissent’s name.

B

The Role of Public Space in Social Movements in the Middle East

Public spaces have long nurtured collective dissent within Middle Eastern social movements, though often indirectly. As Asef Bayat examined with his concept of “quiet encroachment,” regimes have pushed resistance out of formal plazas into informal networks cultivated in back alleys, cafés, and makeshift spots escaping direct surveillance (Bayat, 1997). Here oppressed groups slowly strengthen solidarity out of sight, crystallizing the roots of organized dissent over years through quiet preparation rather than sudden spectacle.

Their strength owes partly to the unbounded nature of such spaces, as Doreen Massey illuminated (Massey, 2005). In contrast to policed plazas, the everyday “throwntogetherness” of winding souks and streets foments crucial social collisions outside regimes’ control. Through years of chance encounters, shared rituals, and small habitual defiance in market stalls and cafés, collective dissent gradually coalesces among unlikely allies excluded from formal participation.

Therefore, while sites like Tahrir Square dramatically stage regional uprisings for global consumption, localized informal networks actually laid their groundwork. Oppressed groups first carefully strengthened resilience through everyday spaces and solidarities: cooperating in tucked-away kitchens, coordinating covertly in back alleys via coded slang, consolidating trust through casual gossip in the neighborhood’s shadowy margins (Bayat, 1997). From such seeds nurtured in informality, organized mass dissent flowered overnight once triggering events tipped boiling tensions into open confrontation. The global spotlight captured scenes of vast unified dissent in avenues and plazas—yet these gatherings emerged from far more clandestine histories of resilience building slowly in spaces unseen.

However, the role of public space in movements remains deeply gendered, enforcing control over feminine access as Lila Abu-Lughod observed (Abu-Lughod, 2002). Thus, while the Arab Spring sparked euphoric solidarity, it also erupted in spaces lacking protections for women’s visibility and mobility. Conservative forces seized opportunities for intensified public harassment, assault, and victim-blaming to deter female participation, punishing boldness with bodily violence (Selek, 2011). Yet women’s long secreted histories in private spheres also cultivated vital skills in non-official networks, care ethics, and everyday resistance (Noddings, 2013). Leveraging these resources, many persevered despite threats, discovering wellsprings of solidarity through collaborative resilience in spaces both intimate and mass. Though uprisings commonly spotlight male voices, female activists’ incremental advances through informal networks may ultimately transform gender hierarchies more lastingly.

Consequently, public spaces’ contours shape and get shaped by intersecting identity, memory, and resistance accumulated over years unnoticed before erupting openly. As complex fulcrums between oppression and hope, they surface the outcomes of quieter struggles and solidarities slowly built through everyday spaces, rituals, and alliances beyond authorities’ direct control. Tracing movements’ overt stages alone misses deeper wells of solidarity and care nurtured through mundane yet transformative grassroots spaces in Middle Eastern cities.

C

The Role of Public Space in Social Movements in the Middle East

The story of social movements often begins far from the limelight of public squares, in the quiet, unnoticed corners of cities. Walaa Abdelrahman, an Alexandrian dissident, recollects the early whispers of rebellion, “We’d meet quietly in friends’ homes, whispering plans behind drawn curtains while watching the streets outside for spies” (Abdelrahman, 2019). These clandestine gatherings, nestled in the intimate crevices of the city, were the nurturing grounds for dissent, away from the prying eyes of authority. It was in these unassuming spaces that the seeds of revolution took root, gradually and silently. Bahia Shehab, through her “A Thousand Times No” street art, captures this gradual emergence, illustrating how revolution seeps through society’s veins before bursting into the open (Shehab, 2011). It’s a process of accumulation, where places like football fan clubs, local cafés, and neighborhood presses become the quiet epicenters of a growing storm of resistance, buzzing with the low hum of revolutionary fervor (Abaza, 2013).

While the world’s attention was fixed on iconic locations like Tahrir Square, the real undercurrents of resistance were flowing through a complex network of less visible spaces. To focus solely on public protests is to overlook these vital channels of solidarity that formed in society’s more hidden venues. Abdelrahman’s reflection captures this essence, highlighting how resistance is often a slow, growing current that builds momentum in the obscured nooks of society (Abdelrahman, 2019).

Women’s roles in these movements provide a particularly poignant example of this hidden resilience. The anonymous writings on “Women Living Under Muslim Laws” shed light on the struggles women faced within the confines of their homes, battling for their rights and autonomy long before the public uprisings (WLUML, 2011). These private battles laid the groundwork for the visible, public acts of resistance that would follow. As the uprisings unfolded, women drew upon these deep reserves of strength and solidarity. Despite facing heightened retaliation, they stepped into the public sphere, their organizing skills and bravery propelling the movements forward. Figures like Asmaa Mahfouz, a teenage martyr, exemplify the vital role of women in sustaining the momentum of these movements during their most perilous moments (WLUML, 2011).

The emergence of dissent and social movements is a complex process, often taking shape far from the gaze of the ruling elite. It’s a gradual accumulation of forces, a building of pressure in the societal underbelly that often goes unnoticed until it erupts into public view. This eruption, though sudden to the onlooker, is the result of a long, slow build-up of tension and solidarity. Public spaces, in this context, are merely the visible crest of a much larger wave of change that has been forming out of sight. To truly understand the dynamics of social movements, one must look beyond the obvious, visible manifestations in public squares. It’s in the quiet, unobserved places where the initial stirrings of change begin, where the slow churn of dissent gathers strength. These underground currents, these whispers of resistance, are the true harbingers of the social and political transformations to come.

The Role of Public Space in Social Movements in the Middle East

Under the ominous haze of authoritarian rule, public spaces fall mute, severed from communal currents and caged behind social barriers erected to dominate the landscape. Yet repression’s facades harbor hollows where solidarity takes root unseen, new visions incubating in societies’ overlooked crevices. Here dialogues gather depth, embedded rituals renewing people’s sense of shared destiny and purpose even as regimes deny such discourses breathing room in plain sight.

When emergency response teams are barred from aiding innocents injured amid violent retaliation, makeshift medics emerge spontaneously from neighborhoods to fill the void, ordinary individuals evolving into vessels for extraordinary compassion directed toward suffering strangers. What spectator lenses cannot reveal is how the courage fueling such acts stems not solely from sudden sympathy but from generations of cultivated human bonds nurtured through common spaces outside authority’s grasp. Though hidden beyond surface sight, continuous circulation of such currents has etched alternative conceptions of justice and community accountability into cultural bedrock.

Thus, when calamity opens chances to reclaim public space, people symbolically resuscitate these dormant visions that have lingered in collective memory through decades of suppression. Impromptu monuments spring up overnight to commemorate loss, transforming sterile architecture into reliquaries for public mourning honoring those robbed of dignity in death. Streets rename themselves, asserting popular conceptions of access and mobility against hegemonic enforced narratives etched into the literal concrete itself. Spectacular scenes capture global attention briefly before focus fades. But the cultural transformations seeded in such revolutionary openings stretch on as new networks branch out and sink roots within private realms shielded from view.

Away from media spotlights stand quiet memorials woven into neighborhoods’ fabric where residents collectively sanctify loss through candlelit rituals animated by songs of resilience – ballads once banned from public stages but passed secretly through generations until this moment of emancipation. Makeshift classrooms convene in trusted homes, nourished by donated books salvaged from regimes’ failed bureaus, teachers sharing hard-won knowledge freely to fossilize new visions in students’ hearts. Though no scholars scrutinize such subtle scenes, still the solitary moments mold mentalities, resilience and moral courage calcifying inadvertently through care’s continuous circulation in spheres sealed off from authoritarian writ.

As prior conceptions of identity and access atrophy behind high institutional walls, alternative social visions germinate in overlooked spaces through yearly cycles of communal care. When crisis tears down barriers, these seeds of solidarity and empathy abruptly unfurl into public view. But the blossoms soon scatter once more, leaving the fruits of resistance to mature slowly in society’s soil, cultivating the next season’s dormant buds holding hope of social transformation yet to fully unfold.

E

The Role of Public Space in Social Movements in the Middle East

Under the ominous haze of authoritarian rule, public spaces fall mute, severed from communal currents and caged behind social barriers erected to dominate the landscape (Habermas’ public sphere theory). Yet repression’s facades harbor hollows where solidarity takes root unseen, new visions incubating in societies’ overlooked crevices (de Certeau’s theories of everyday resistance). Here dialogues gather depth, embedded rituals renewing people’s sense of shared destiny and purpose even as regimes deny such discourses breathing room in plain sight.

When emergency response teams are barred from aiding innocents injured amid violent retaliation, makeshift medics emerge spontaneously from neighborhoods to fill the void, ordinary individuals evolving into vessels for extraordinary compassion directed toward suffering strangers (de Certeau’s everyday resistance). What spectator lenses cannot reveal is how the courage fueling such acts stems not solely from sudden sympathy but from generations of cultivated human bonds nurtured through common spaces outside authority’s grasp (Habermas’ public sphere theory). Though hidden beyond surface sight, continuous circulation of such currents has etched alternative conceptions of justice and community accountability into cultural bedrock (Lefebvre’s representational spaces).

Thus, when calamity opens chances to reclaim public space, people symbolically resuscitate these dormant visions that have lingered in collective memory through decades of suppression (Lefebvre’s representational spaces). Impromptu monuments spring up overnight to commemorate loss, transforming sterile architecture into reliquaries for public mourning honoring those robbed of dignity in death (Lefebvre’s representational spaces). Streets rename themselves, asserting popular conceptions of access and mobility against hegemonic enforced narratives etched into the literal concrete itself (Lefebvre’s representational spaces). Spectacular scenes capture global attention briefly before focus fades. But the cultural transformations seeded in such revolutionary openings stretch on as new networks branch out and sink roots within private realms shielded from view (Habermas’ public sphere theory, de Certeau’s everyday resistance).

Away from media spotlights stand quiet memorials woven into neighborhoods’ fabric where residents collectively sanctify loss through candlelit rituals animated by songs of resilience – ballads once banned from public stages but passed secretly through generations until this moment of emancipation (Lefebvre’s representational spaces). Makeshift classrooms convene in trusted homes, nourished by donated books salvaged from regimes’ failed bureaus (de Certeau’s everyday resistance), teachers sharing hard-won knowledge freely to fossilize new visions in students’ hearts (de Certeau’s everyday resistance). Though no scholars scrutinize such subtle scenes, still the solitary moments mold mentalities, resilience and moral courage calcifying inadvertently through care’s continuous circulation in spheres sealed off from authoritarian writ (de Certeau’s everyday resistance).

As prior conceptions of identity and access atrophy behind high institutional walls (Lefebvre’s representational spaces), alternative social visions germinate in overlooked spaces through yearly cycles of communal care (de Certeau’s everyday resistance). When crisis tears down barriers, these seeds of solidarity and empathy abruptly unfurl into public view. But the blossoms soon scatter once more, leaving the fruits of resistance to mature slowly in society’s soil, cultivating the next season’s dormant buds holding hope of social transformation yet to fully unfold (Lefebvre’s representational spaces).

biopolitics, essay on situated perspectives: rethinking assumed knowledge about biopolitics

Theoretical concepts like biopolitics and biopower have garnered extensive attention in fields ranging from philosophy to political science to legal studies. While Michel Foucault is credited with first articulating biopolitics in relation to modern states regulating their citizens’ biological conditions, subsequent thinkers have built on and critiqued his formulation through their own philosophical lenses. This proliferation of perspectives resists easy definition, instead revealing the situated, dynamic nature of knowledge claims.

Foucault introduced biopolitics as part of his broader examination of power, governance and discourse. He argued that authorities increasingly construe individuals’ bodies and aggregate populations as objects of control and optimization to align with state interests. Giorgio Agamben extends Foucault’s notion of biopower into more ominous dimensions, warning how it can deprive subjects of rights and reduce them to “bare life” at the mercy of sovereign decree. In contrast, Roberto Esposito adopts a more sanguine view of biopolitics’ potential for fostering communal welfare, care and solidarity when directed toward ethical ends.

Other prominent theorists like Michael Hardt, Antonio Negri, Thomas Lemke and Nicholas Rose have analyzed how biopolitical logics operate in contexts from globalized neoliberal networks to the proliferation of biological and genetic sciences. Across these diverse perspectives, a shared recognition exists of biopower’s growing reach into intimate, corporeal realms once considered outside the ambit of governance.

However, as feminist scholar Donna Haraway contends, assumed knowledge and perceived objectivity must be interrogated to reveal the situated, partial nature of knowledge claims. No single definition or deployment of biopolitics can be detached from the theorist’s particular identity, motivations, era and disciplinary paradigms that shape its articulation. We must ask questions that dig beneath surface meanings: Who is constructing this concept, for what aims and through what lens? What assumptions underpin their approach? Whose perspectives and experiences are marginalized? How could alternative standpoints reshape understanding?

Probing the contextual basis of biopolitical ideas in this manner enables more nuanced critique. It highlights the boundaries of specific knowledge frameworks, opening space for new configurations and multivocal insights. This dynamic, self-reflective orientation is especially crucial given biopolitics’ frequent invocation in debates around structures of power and inequality.

For instance, Jasbir Puar’s work The Right to Maim creatively adapts Foucault and Agamben’s theories to analyze biopolitical violence enacted upon Palestinian bodies. However, her usage does not neatly align with how those previous thinkers formulated biopower within their own projects. Puar expands Foucault’s institutional focus to encompass diffuse cultural forces and transmutes Agamben’s “bare life” into more incremental tactics of debilitation. These adaptations stem from her situated perspective as a feminist queer theorist concerned with subtle operations of control in Israel/Palestine. Her rendering of biopolitics cannot be divorced from this conditioned standpoint and associated political commitments.

Ultimately, Puar provides both an illuminating deployment of biopolitical theory and an object lesson in the situated relativity of such theoretical concepts. Rather than seek rigid definitions, we should embrace biopolitics and biopower as flexible frameworks ripe for constant reworking and contestation from diverse subject positions. This enables more pluralistic, ethical approaches to pressing issues of embodied governance and justice.