New Texts Out Now: Salim Yaqub, Imperfect Strangers: Americans, Arabs, and U.S.-Middle East Relations in the 1970s

New Texts Out Now: Salim Yaqub, Imperfect Strangers: Americans, Arabs, and U.S.-Middle East Relations in the 1970s

New Texts Out Now: Salim Yaqub, Imperfect Strangers: Americans, Arabs, and U.S.-Middle East Relations in the 1970s

By : Salim Yaqub

Salim Yaqub, Imperfect Strangers: Americans, Arabs, and U.S.-Middle East Relations in the 1970s (Cornell University Press, 2016).

Jadaliyya (J): What made you write this book?

Salim Yaqub (SY): I wanted to continue my previous work on the history of US-Arab relations but to focus on an era I personally remembered. (I was born in 1963, so the 1970s coincided with my childhood and teenage years.) Also, when I started the project in the early 2000s, the US and British governments were starting to declassify secret documents in large numbers, giving scholars a much more detailed and candid view of official decision-making and action than had previously been available. A number of Arab American manuscript collections, too, were becoming available at that time.

J:  What particular topics, issues, and literatures does the book address?

SY: My book looks at diplomatic and political relations between the United States and Arab governments and groups, at domestic US debates over Middle East policy, at Arab American political activism, at US government surveillance of Arabs in America (US citizens and noncitizens alike), and at portrayals of the Arab world in American popular culture.

J: How does this book connect to and/or depart from your previous work?

SY: My first book, Containing Arab Nationalism: The Eisenhower Doctrine and the Middle East, examined U.S. political and diplomatic relations with the Arab world in the 1950s. The current book continues the focus on official relations between the United States and Arab actors, but it also looks at the behaviors and outlooks of nongovernmental actors, both American and Arab.

J: Who do you hope will read this book, and what sort of impact would you like it to have?

SY: I hope my readers will include scholars and students of Middle Eastern affairs, of US foreign relations, of Arab American life, of cultural studies, and of political and ethnic activism. I also hope to reach general readers interested in any of the above topics. I would be very happy if the interventions I make in the various scholarly literatures (on US relations with the Middle East, on Arab American history, on US literary portrayals of the Arab world, and so on) generated lively and fruitful debates in those areas and stimulated further scholarship. More broadly, I hope Imperfect Strangers will make the connections among diplomatic, political, cultural, activist, and discursive realms more visible and interesting to readers of all stripes.

J: What other projects are you working on now?

SY: At the moment, I am focusing on promoting Imperfect Strangers. I’m not sure what my next project(s) will be. I may write a book on U.S. interactions with and around Lebanon during the 1980s—a time when Lebanon became important to Americans (at multiple levels of government and society) in ways that it hadn’t been previously and hasn’t been since.

Excerpt from Chapter Two, “A Stirring at the Margins: Arab American Political Activism, 1967-1973.”

The following excerpt describes the harshly anti-Arab climate in the United States during and shortly after the 1967 Arab-Israeli war and the resulting formation of the Association of Arab American University Graduates (AAUG). The passages immediately preceding the excerpt lay out the more general demographic and political context, in both the United States and Middle East, for the upsurge of Arab American activism in the late 1960s.

If the new Arab American activism grew out of broad transformations in American and Middle Eastern life, its immediate catalyst was the 1967 War, and in particular U.S. responses to that tragedy. In the Arab American collective memory, the war and its immediate aftermath were a time of rampant anti-Arab hostility, in which much of the American public and news media denigrated the Arab world, often in starkly dehumanizing terms. With important caveats, there is considerable truth to this portrayal. American news coverage of the war was generally factual and straightforward, no doubt reflecting journalists’ sincere desire to “get the story right.” But the inclusion of some facts instead of others, the use of framing devices that privileged Israeli views, and the occasional reliance on cartoonish stereotypes did portray Arab behavior, both official and societal, as implausibly cruel and fanatical. American commentators, moreover, were often unabashed in their sympathy for Israel, treating its decision to fire the first shot as a justified response to intolerable pressures and threats.

In itself, such partiality did not demonstrate antipathy toward Arabs in general. A persuasive, and surely nonracist, case could be made that Egyptian president Gamal Abdel Nasser and other Arab leaders were deeply culpable for the carnage that suddenly engulfed their region. But some of the pro-Israel commentary did suggest a callous indifference to the suffering of ordinary Arabs with no say in state policy. The Egyptian army’s collapse in the Sinai was, among other things, a vast humanitarian disaster. Thousands of stranded Egyptian soldiers died horribly, some strafed by Israeli aircraft against which they had no defenses, others succumbing to thirst and exhaustion in the blistering desert. Yet the syndicated columnist Frank Getlein saw only humor in the “losses to the Arabs of land, arms, treasure, lives, credibility, shirts, pants and shoes.” Even the travails of Arab civilians drew contemptuous responses. “The screams about helping the displaced Arabs have echoed in the [UN] Security Council for endless hours since the war,” wrote former New Dealer-turned-columnist Raymond Moley in Newsweek, referring to the tens of thousands of Palestinians made refugees by the war. The United States had no responsibility for them, Moley insisted. A Life editorial on the broader Palestinian refugee population, titled “1.3 Million Causes of Tension,” contained not a word of sympathy for the men, women, and children inhabiting “the hate-filled camps.”

A rash of jokes, most of them stressing Arab cowardice and incompetence, swept the country during and after war. How could you tell an Egyptian tank from an Israeli one? The Egyptian tank had backup lights. How fast were the Israelis advancing into Egypt? So fast that the Cairo Hilton was now taking reservations for bar mitzvahs. Another joke had a South Vietnamese general asking Israeli Defense Minister Moshe Dayan to explain the secret of his success. “Well, to start with,” Dayan replies, “it helps if you can arrange to fight against Arabs.” Admittedly, the anti-Arab humor was accompanied by a spate of jokes that American Jews—professional comedians and ordinary people alike—told at their own expense, sometimes appropriating anti-Semitic stereotypes. (Why were no Israeli tanks destroyed? Because they didn’t have collision insurance. Why did Israeli commanders go only so far into Arab territory? Because they were renting the tanks at eight cents a mile.) But there was a world of difference between spoofing one’s own kind and enduring mockery by others, and the existence of the first pattern could scarcely ease the pain that Arabs and Arab Americans felt on account of the second. It’s doubtful that many of them were even aware of the self-deprecating Jewish humor, as it seldom, if ever, appeared in the national print media, circulating instead by word of mouth or via the occasional late-night television variety show. The anti-Arab jokes were published widely, in an atmosphere of sanctioned levity.

In short, Arabs were losers, and no sensible American would wish to emulate them. A cartoon in the December 1967 issue of Playboy succinctly captures the sentiment. Behind the scenes of a school Christmas pageant, a little boy in a shepherd’s costume, consisting of robe and headdress, looks up at the woman directing the show and asks, “I’m not an Arab, am I?”

The 1967 debacle was traumatic to Arab Americans and Arab residents from all walks of life, but it posed special challenges to academics and professionals, many of whom had arrived in the second, postwar wave of Arab immigration. These people tended to be less rooted in ethnic communities than their working-class counterparts. They lived and worked in white-collar settings where Arabs were few and support for Israel was articulate and often pervasive. Because of their privileged status, they felt a special obligation to challenge what they saw as the distorted, disparaging, callous, and even racist discourse that surrounded them. After all, they had access to facts and insights missing from the national conversation and, in the case of academics, a presence in institutions that shaped public attitudes. More recent immigrants often felt guilty about having left the Arab world for comfortable lives in the West; they simply had to speak up for the abandoned homeland. And yet many educated Arabs, like Arabs everywhere, were so stunned by the military defeat that they could scarcely make it intelligible to their own minds, still less interpret it to others. As much as they needed to combat the widespread ignorance and defamation, they also had to explain the Arab predicament to themselves, and each other.

[ . . .]

In August 1967, the International Congress of Orientalists held its annual meeting in Ann Arbor, Michigan. During the event, Rashid Bashshur, a sociology professor at the University of Michigan, hosted about fifteen Arab and Arab-American attendees, apparently all of them male, at a barbecue in his backyard. After dinner, the group having moved indoors, Bashshur asked his guests to share their thoughts about the Middle East crisis. He later wrote:

We went around the room, one by one, each of them describing his own feelings. Some recounted their seismic reaction first to the news of Arab victories then the total failure. As I recall most everyone mentioned a feeling of despair, some were simply despondent, some afraid of further retaliation or possible loss of jobs at their institutions as a result of the strong anti-Arab sentiment so rampant at the time. A few mentioned that they did not go to work for several days and avoided talking to colleagues or others when they did. There was also mention of feeling of embarrassment or shame at being Arab.

 

What to do? Although some of Bashshur’s guests proposed individual actions—letters to the editor, approaches to congressional representatives, and the like—the group quickly embraced the idea of launching a collective effort: an organization of “professors and professionals of Arabic extraction” dedicated to addressing, in ways yet to be determined, “the urgent problems facing our communities in the United States, Canada, and in our land of origin.” The group authorized Bashshur and Abdeen Jabara, a young Lebanese-American attorney based in Detroit, to organize a general conference at which the goals and contours of such an association could be defined.

Bashshur and Jabara were an unlikely pair. Born in Syria in 1933, Bashshur had attended the American University of Beirut before relocating to the United States for graduate study. He did not have an extensive activist background and was politically moderate. Years later, Bashshur lamented the militancy of the organization he had catalyzed, and after 1968 he was only modestly active in it. Jabara, just shy of twenty-seven, was a committed radical. Though born and raised in northern Michigan, he had been steeped from boyhood in the Palestine issue and Arab nationalism, and in the early and mid-1960s he had paid extended visits to the Arab world. Jabara was now active in the anti-Vietnam War, civil rights, and emerging Third World solidarity movements, had close ties to the Socialist Workers Party, and was sharply critical of the U.S. government’s behavior around the globe. (In that same month of August 1967, his antiwar activities triggered an FBI investigation that would continue for eight years and eventually enlist the services of the CIA and National Security Agency.) Jabara threw himself wholeheartedly into the new Arab-American organization and would serve as its president in 1972. He would also find time to work on Sirhan Sirhan’s defense team . . . , edit a newspaper devoted to the Palestinian struggle, defend the civil liberties of Arabs and Arab Americans, and organize Detroit’s Arab auto workers. In the decade and a half after 1967, Jabara’s was arguably the leading radical voice in Arab American politics.

Despite their differing outlooks, Bashshur and Jabara successfully collaborated on their assigned task. They scheduled the founding conference to take place in Chicago in December 1967, to coincide with the first annual meeting of the Middle East Studies Association. Forty-three Arabs and Arab Americans (now including two women) met at the University of Chicago to approve the bylaws of the Association of Arab-American University Graduates, as the organization was to be called. The AAUG would seek “to promote all aspects of knowledge concerning the Arab world, especially in the cultural, scientific and educational fields . . . and work to achieve a better understanding in these fields between the United States and Canada and the Arab world.” This innocuous mission statement gave little hint of the bracing critiques to come. The attendees named a board of directors and elected Fauzi Najjar, a Lebanese-born social science professor at Michigan State University, to be the AAUG’s first president.

[...]

Though calling itself “Arab-American,” the AAUG was more closely tethered to the Arab half of this identity. Most founding members were Arab-born, and many were more fully invested in Arab affairs than in American ones. “They were Arabs whose heads were in the Middle East,” Jabara later said, “but whose feet were here in the United States.” While this orientation ensured a high degree of expertise and commitment with respect to the Arab world, it made it harder for the AAUG to appeal to the wider Arab American community or gain a hearing in the U.S. mainstream media. On the other hand, simply by functioning politically in the United States, the AAUG could not help bringing its members somewhat more fully into the American fold. As Michael Suleiman, the association’s president in 1977, recalled, “intentionally or not, [the AAUG] worked to make some disgruntled and alienated Arab Americans feel part and parcel of the American political system. Indeed, at times, for some, it gave them a feeling of civic competence.”

 [Excerpted from © 2016 Imperfect Strangers, with author permission.]

New Texts Out Now: Mandy Turner and Cherine Hussein, guest eds. "Israel-Palestine after Oslo: Mapping Transformations in a Time of Deepening Crisis." Special Issue of Conflict, Security & Development

Conflict, Security and Development, Volume 15, No. 5 (December 2015) Special issue: "Israel-Palestine after Oslo: Mapping Transformations in a Time of Deepening Crisis," Guest Editors: Mandy Turner and Cherine Hussein.

Jadaliyya (J): What made you compile this volume?

Mandy Turner (MT): Both the peace process and the two-state solution are dead. Despite more than twenty years of negotiations, Israel’s occupation, colonization and repression continue–and the political and geographical fragmentation of the Palestinian people is proceeding apace.

This is not news, nor is it surprising to any keen observer of the situation. But what is surprising–and thus requires explanation – is the resilience of the Oslo framework and paradigm: both objectively and subjectively. It operates objectively as a straitjacket by trapping Palestinians in economic and security arrangements that are designed to ensure stabilization and will not to lead to sovereignty or a just and sustainable solution. And it operates subjectively as a straitjacket by shutting out discussion of alternative ways of understanding the situation and ways out of the impasse. The persistence of this framework that is focused on conflict management and stabilization, is good for Israel but bad for Palestinians.

The Oslo peace paradigm–of a track-one, elite-level, negotiated two-state solution–is therefore in crisis. And yet it is entirely possible that the current situation could continue for a while longer–particularly given the endorsement and support it enjoys from the major Western donors and the “international community,” as well as the fact that there has been no attempt to develop an alternative. The immediate short-term future is therefore bleak.

Guided by these observations, this special issue sought to undertake two tasks. The first task was to analyze the perceptions underpinning the Oslo framework and paradigm as well as some of the transformations instituted by its implementation: why is it so resilient, what has it created? The second task, which follows on from the first, was then to ask: how can we reframe our understanding of what is happening, what are some potential alternatives, and who is arguing and mobilizing for them?

These questions and themes grew out of a number of conversations with early-career scholars – some based at the Kenyon Institute in East Jerusalem, and some based in the occupied Palestinian territory and elsewhere. These conversations led to two interlinked panels at the International Studies Association annual convention in Toronto, Canada, in March 2014. To have two panels accepted on “conflict transformation and resistance in Palestine” at such a conventional international relations conference with (at the time unknown) early-career scholars is no mean feat. The large and engaged audience we received at these panels – with some very established names coming along (one of whom contributed to this special issue) – convinced us that this new stream of scholars and scholarship should have an outlet.  

J: What particular topics, issues, and literatures do the articles address?

MT: The first half of the special issue analyzes how certain problematic assumptions shaped the Oslo framework, and how the Oslo framework in turn shaped the political, economic and territorial landscape.

Virginia Tilley’s article focuses on the paradigm of conflict resolution upon which the Oslo Accords were based, and calls for a re-evaluation of what she argues are the two interlinked central principles underpinning its worldview: internationally accepted notions of Israeli sovereignty; and the internationally accepted idea that the “conflict” is essentially one between two peoples–the “Palestinian people” and the “Jewish people”. Through her critical interrogation of these two “common sense” principles, Tilley proposes that the “conflict” be reinterpreted as an example of settler colonialism, and, as a result of this, recommends an alternative conflict resolution model based on a paradigm shift away from an ethno-nationalist division of the polity towards a civic model of the nation.

Tariq Dana unpacks another central plank of the Oslo paradigm–that of promoting economic relations between Israel and the OPT. He analyses this through the prism of “economic peace” (particularly the recent revival of theories of “capitalist peace”), whose underlying assumptions are predicated on the perceived superiority of economic approaches over political approaches to resolving conflict. Dana argues that there is a symbiosis between Israeli strategies of “economic peace” and recent Palestinian “statebuilding strategies” (referred to as Fayyadism), and that both operate as a form of pacification and control because economic cooperation leaves the colonial relationship unchallenged.

The political landscape in the OPT has been transformed by the Oslo paradigm, particularly by the creation of the Palestinian Authority (PA). Alaa Tartir therefore analyses the basis, agenda and trajectory of the PA, particularly its post-2007 state building strategy. By focusing on the issue of local legitimacy and accountability, and based on fieldwork in two sites in the occupied West Bank (Balata and Jenin refugee camps), Tartir concludes that the main impact of the creation of the PA on ordinary people’s lives has been the strengthening of authoritarian control and the hijacking of any meaningful visions of Palestinian liberation.

The origin of the administrative division between the West Bank and Gaza Strip is the focus of Tareq Baconi’s article. He charts how Hamas’s initial opposition to the Oslo Accords and the PA was transformed over time, leading to its participation (and success) in the 2006 legislative elections. Baconi argues that it was the perceived demise of the peace process following the collapse of the Camp David discussions that facilitated this change. But this set Hamas on a collision course with Israel and the international community, which ultimately led to the conflict between Hamas and Fateh, and the administrative division, which continues to exist.

The special issue thereafter focuses, in the second section, on alternatives and resistance to Oslo’s transformations.

Cherine Hussein’s article charts the re-emergence of the single-state idea in opposition to the processes of separation unleashed ideologically and practically that were codified in the Oslo Accords. Analysing it as both a movement of resistance and as a political alternative to Oslo, while recognizing that it is currently largely a movement of intellectuals (particularly of diaspora Palestinians and Israelis), Hussein takes seriously its claim to be a more just and liberating alternative to the two-state solution.

My article highlights the work of a small but dedicated group of anti-Zionist Jewish-Israeli activists involved in two groups: Zochrot and Boycott from Within. Both groups emerged in the post-Second Intifada period, which was marked by deep disillusionment with the Oslo paradigm. This article unpacks the alternative – albeit marginalized – analysis, solution and route to peace proposed by these groups through the application of three concepts: hegemony, counter-hegemony and praxis. The solution, argue the activists, lies in Israel-Palestine going through a process of de-Zionization and decolonization, and the process of achieving this lies in actions in solidarity with Palestinians.

This type of solidarity action is the focus of the final article by Suzanne Morrison, who analyses the “We Divest” campaign, which is the largest divestment campaign in the US and forms part of the wider Palestinian Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement. Through attention to their activities and language, Morrison shows how “We Divest”, with its networked, decentralized, grassroots and horizontal structure, represents a new way of challenging Israel’s occupation and the suppression of Palestinian rights.

The two parts of the special issue are symbiotic: the critique and alternative perspectives analyzed in part two are responses to the issues and problems identified in part one.

J: How does this volume connect to and/or depart from your previous work?

MT: My work focuses on the political economy of donor intervention (which falls under the rubric of “peacebuilding”) in the OPT, particularly a critique of the Oslo peace paradigm and framework. This is a product of my broader conceptual and historical interest in the sociology of intervention as a method of capitalist expansion and imperial control (as explored in “The Politics of International Intervention: the Tyranny of Peace”, co-edited with Florian Kuhn, Routledge, 2016), and how post-conflict peacebuilding and development agendas are part of this (as explored in “Whose Peace: Critical Perspectives on the Political Economy of Peacebuilding”, co-edited with Michael Pugh and Neil Cooper (PalgraveMacmillan, 2008).  

My first book on Palestine (co-edited with Omar Shweiki), Decolonizing Palestinian Political Economy: De-development and Beyond (PalgraveMacmillan, 2014), was a collection of essays by experts in their field, of the political-economic experience of different sections of the Palestinian community. The book, however, aimed to reunite these individual experiences into one historical political-economy narrative of a people experiencing a common theme of dispossession, disenfranchisement and disarticulation. It was guided by the desire to critically assess the utility of the concept of de-development to different sectors and issues–and had a foreword by Sara Roy, the scholar who coined the term, and who was involved in the workshop from which the book emerged.

This co-edited special issue (with Cherine Hussein, who, at the time of the issue construction, was the deputy director of the Kenyon Institute) was therefore the next logical step in my research on Palestine, although my article on Jewish-Israeli anti-Zionists did constitute a slight departure from my usual focus.

J: Who do you hope will read this volume, and what sort of impact would you like it to have?

MT: I would imagine the main audience will be those whose research and political interests lie in Palestine Studies. It is difficult, given the structure of academic publishing – which has become ever more corporate and money grabbing – for research outputs such as this to be accessed by the general public. Only those with access to academic libraries are sure to be able to read it – and this is a travesty, in my opinion. To counteract this commodification of knowledge, we should all provide free access to our outputs through online open source websites such as academia.edu, etc. If academic research is going to have an impact beyond merely providing more material for teaching and background reading for yet more research (which is inaccessible to the general public) then this is essential. Websites such as Jadaliyya are therefore incredibly important.

Having said all that, I am under no illusions about the potential for ANY research on Israel-Palestine to contribute to changing the dynamics of the situation. However, as a collection of excellent analyses conducted by mostly early-career scholars in the field of Palestine studies, I am hopeful that their interesting and new perspectives will be read and digested. 

J: What other projects are you working on now?

MT: I am currently working on an edited volume provisionally entitled From the River to the Sea: Disintegration, Reintegration and Domination in Israel and Palestine. This book is the culmination of a two-year research project funded by the British Academy, which analyzed the impacts of the past twenty years of the Oslo peace framework and paradigm as processes of disintegration, reintegration and domination – and how they have created a new socio-economic and political landscape, which requires new agendas and frameworks. I am also working on a new research project with Tariq Dana at Birzeit University on capital and class in the occupied West Bank.

Excerpt from the Editor’s Note 

[Note: This issue was published in Dec. 2015]

Initially perceived to have inaugurated a new era of hope in the search for peace and justice in Palestine-Israel, the Oslo peace paradigm of a track one, elite-level, negotiated two-state solution is in crisis today, if not completely at an end.

While the major Western donors and the ‘international community’ continue to publicly endorse the Oslo peace paradigm, Israeli and Palestinian political elites have both stepped away from it. The Israeli government has adopted what appears to be an outright rejection of the internationally-accepted end-goal of negotiations, i.e. the emergence of a Palestinian state based on the 1967 borders with East Jerusalem as its capital. In March 2015, in the final days of his re-election campaign, Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, visited the Jewish settlement of Har Homa in Palestinian East Jerusalem, which is regarded as illegal under international law. Reminding its inhabitants that it was him and his Likud government that had established the settlement in 1997 as part of the Israeli state’s vision of a unified indivisible Jerusalem, he promised to expand the construction of settlements in East Jerusalem if re-elected. And in an interview with Israeli news site, NRG, Netanyahu vowed that the prospects of a Palestinian state were non-existent as long as he remained in office. Holding on to the occupied Palestinian territory (oPt), he argued, was necessary to ensure Israel’s security in the context of regional instability and Islamic extremism. It is widely acknowledged that Netanyahu’s emphasis on Israel’s security—against both external and internal enemies—gave him a surprise win in an election he was widely expected to lose.

Despite attempts to backtrack under recognition that the US and European states are critical of this turn in official Israeli state policy, Netanyahu’s promise to bury the two-state solution in favour of a policy of further annexation has become the Israeli government’s official intent, and has been enthusiastically endorsed by leading ministers and key advisers.

[…]

The Palestinian Authority (PA) based in the West Bank also appears to have rejected a key principle of the Oslo peace paradigm—that of bilateral negotiations under the supervision of the US. Despite a herculean effort by US Secretary of State, John Kerry, to bring the two parties to the negotiating table, in response to the lack of movement towards final status issues and continued settlement expansion (amongst other issues), the Palestinian political elite have withdrawn from negotiations and resumed attempts to ‘internationalise the struggle’ by seeking membership of international organisations such as the United Nations (UN), and signing international treaties such as the Rome Statute, the founding treaty of the International Criminal Court. This change of direction is part of a rethink in the PA and PLO’s strategy rooted in wider discussions and debates. The publication of a document by the Palestine Strategy Study Group (PSSG) in August 2008, the production of which involved many members of the Palestinian political elite (and whose recommendations were studiously discussed at the highest levels of the PA and PLO), showed widespread discontent with the bilateral negotiations framework and suggested ways in which Palestinians could ‘regain the initiative’.

[…]

And yet despite these changes in official Palestinian and Israeli political strategies that signal a deepening of the crisis, donors and the ‘international community’ are reluctant to accept the failure of the Oslo peace paradigm. This political myopia has meant the persistence of a framework that is increasingly divorced from the possibility of a just and sustainable peace. It is also acting as an ideological straitjacket by shutting out alternative interpretations. This special issue seeks a way out of this political and intellectual dead end. In pursuit of this, our various contributions undertake what we regard to be two key tasks: first, to critically analyse the perceptions underpinning the Oslo paradigm and the transformations instituted by its implementation; and second, to assess some alternative ways of understanding the situation rooted in new strategies of resistance that have emerged in the context of these transformations in the post-Oslo landscape.

[…]

Taken as a whole, the articles in this special issue aim to ignite conversations on the conflict that are not based within abstracted debates that centre upon the peace process itself—but that begin from within the realities and geographies of both the continually transforming land of Palestine-Israel and the voices, struggles, worldviews and imaginings of the future of the people who presently inhabit it. For it is by highlighting these transformations, and from within these points of beginning, that we believe more hopeful pathways for alternative ways forward can be collectively imagined, articulated, debated and built.