disturbed by the number of times i've seen the idea that calling gaza an open-air prison is not okay because "that implies that gazans have done something wrong", the subtext being unlike those criminals who deserve to be in prison. i'm sorry but we HAVE to understand criminalization and incarceration as an intrinsic part of settler colonialism and racial capitalism, because settler states make laws that actively are designed to suppress indigenous and racialized resistance, and then enforce those laws in even more racist and discriminatory ways so that who is considered "criminal" is indelibly tied up with who is considered a "threat" to the settler state. that's how law, policing, and incarceration function worlwide, and how they have always functioned in israel as part of the zionist project.
talking about prison abolition in this context is not a distraction from what's happening to palestinians; it's a key tool of israel's apartheid and genocide. why do you think a major hamas demand has been for israel to release the palestinians in israeli prisons? why do you think israel nearly doubled the number of palestinians incarcerated in their prison in just the first two weeks after october 7? why do they systematically racially profile palestinians (particularly afro-palestinians, since anti-blackness is baked into israel's carceral system as well, like it is in much of the world) and arrest and charge 20% of palestinians, an astonishingly high rate that goes up even higher to 40% for palestinian men? why are there two different systems of law for palestinians and israelis, where palestinians are charged and tried under military law, leading to a conviction rate of almost 100%? why do they torture children and incarcerate them for up to 20 years just for throwing rocks? why can palestinians be imprisoned by israel without even being charged or tried? why do they keep the bodies of palestinians who have died in prison (often due to torture, execution, or medical neglect) for the rest of their sentences instead of returning them to their families?
this is not to say that no palestinians imprisoned by israel have ever done harm. but incarceration worldwide has never been about accountability for those who have done harm, nor about real justice for those have experienced harm, nor about deterring future harm. incarceration is about controlling, suppressing, and exterminating oppressed people. sometimes people from privileged classes get caught up in carceral systems as well, but it is a side effect, because the settler colonialist state will happily sacrifice some of its settlers for its larger goal.
so yes, gaza is an open-air prison. that doesn't means gazans deserve to be there. it means that no one deserves to be in prison, because prisons themselves are inherently oppressive.
4K notes
·
View notes
On a previous ask, someone asked about racial capitalism and like what makes it different from regular capitalism
Yeah, I didn't explain what the term meant, although I wasn't asked that before.
To start with, according to Cedric Robinson in Black Marxism (1983), there is no difference because all forms of capitalism are racial capitalism, that capitalism by its nature produces racial oppression when it produces inequality.
So why coin the term?
The main thing that Robinson was trying to do was to shift the focus of Marxist thought on capitalism towards the way that capitalism extracts value specifically from the racially marginalized.
This has a lot to do with fights within Marxism about how to think about capitalism - for example, Robinson isn't a fan of the idea from Marx that capitalism was a progressive force vis-a-vis feudalism, and argues that capitalism simply displaced caste systems from Europe to Europe's colonies in the Americas, Asia, Africa, etc. through slavery and colonialism and later systems of racial oppression.
95 notes
·
View notes
In 2023, Let's Remember that Jesus Was a Poor Man
I’ve been thinking alot about this picture lately that I first came across online probably 4 or 5 years ago, you can view it at the start of this blog post. It’s a black and white photo of a mule drawn covered wagon. Painted on the wagon cover is the phrase, “Don’t laugh folks, Jesus was a poor man.” This picture was taken in 1968 as part of The Mule Train. The Mule Train was a train of mule drawn wagons that rode together from Marks, Mississippi, one of the poorest areas in all of the USA at the time, to Washington DC as an act of protest to highlight the need for poor people, especially poor children, to have their basic needs met. The Mule Train was part of the original Poor People’s Campaign which Martin Luther King Jr. was a leader in before he died. Marks was populated predominantly by poor Black sharecroppers who were descendents of enslaved people, which was no accident either. Disproportionate Black poverty was and is a feature of US racial capitalist society, which was built by enslaved Black people, and became prosperous by the total theft of value generated by their labor while living in bondage. Much like Southern Black people in the USA in 1968, Jesus too lived under constant state repression and under oppressive social regimes as a Palestinian Jew living under Roman Imperial occupation.
I love the implication of the claim that this wagon makes. The idea that the God of the universe became human and lived, walked, worked, loved, ate, cried, laughed, and died amongst us is earth-shatteringly profound. Yet, when this Creator of everything that was, is, or will be became a human-being, God chose not to be born into a wealthy, aristocratic family. God chose to become a poor man living under occupation. Therefore, how our societies and economies treat poor people is reflective of how our societies and economies would treat God if God became human in our day.
At my lovely Episcopal church in Dallas last night, sitting in the pew, participating in our lovely Lessons and Carols liturgy that we always do the first Sunday after Christmas, I heard this passage, John 1:1-14, like I’d heard it for the first time. In this passage, the author of the text refers to God as “the Word” and “The Light” which are common Biblical titles for God. I, however, couldn’t escape this idea of “what if these titles, the Word and the Light, were replaced with the phrase “the Poor Man”? After all, our Mule Train drivers named Jesus as a poor man. How might we hear this passage differently in our time? In this place?”
Therefore, I invite you to read this New Revised Poor Man edition of John 1:1-14 below, adapted from the Common English Bible. I took the liberty of abandoning this motif a few times for clarity.
John 1:1-14 - Common English Bible
In the beginning was the Poor Man
and the Poor Man was with God
and the Poor Man was God.
The Poor Man was with God in the beginning.
Everything came into being through the Poor Man,
and without the Poor Man
nothing came into being.
What came into being
through the Poor Man was life,
and the life was the light for all people.
The Poor Man shines in the darkness,
and the darkness doesn’t extinguish the Poor Man.
A man named John was sent from God. He came as a witness to testify concerning the Poor Man, so that through him everyone would believe in the Poor Man. He himself wasn’t the Poor Man, but his mission was to testify concerning the Poor Man.
The true Poor Man that shines on all people
was coming into the world.
The Poor Man was in the world,
and the world came into being through the Poor Man,
but the world didn’t recognize the Poor Man.
The Poor Man came to his own people,
and his own people didn’t welcome him.
But those who did welcome him,
those who believed in his name,
he authorized to become God’s children,
born not from blood
nor from human desire or passion,
but born from God.
The Poor Man became flesh
and made his home among us.
We have seen his glory,
glory like that of a father’s only son,
full of grace and truth.
When I read this adapted passage, the first thing that it reminds me of are two verses from John 12:7-8 CEB:
““Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. “It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”
This passage comes from an absolute favorite Gospel story of mine, the raising of Lazarus followed by the story of Mary and Martha and the perfume. In the story, following Jesus’ miracle of raising Lazarus from the dead, Lazarus, Mary, Martha, Judas Iscariot, and Jesus share a meal together in Mary, Martha, and Lazarus’ home. In the story, while Martha is serving the table, Mary gets up and pours a very expensive bottle of perfume (worth a year’s wages) over Jesus’ head, anointing him, and then wipes his feet with her hair. The others are outraged by this act, but Jesus understands it as a holy sign of devotion from his dedicated follower, Mary, who seems to know that Jesus is quickly approaching his death.
When Jesus says “You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me” it sounds kind of dismissive of the plight of the poor. However, if you are familiar with the full text of the Gospels and Jesus’ work and ministry then you understand that Jesus cares more for the poor and the outcast than any other group in ancient Palestinian society.
If we interpret John 12:7-8 through the lens of Jesus being the Poor Man then the verses take on an entirely different meaning. If Jesus is leaving his humanly and earthly life, but the poor are staying, that means that Jesus is staying, embodied in the lives of the poor. It follows that, if we want to know how to best worship God on this side of the eschaton then we need look no further than the homeless person on the side of the street asking for money. We need look no further than the single mother working 70 hours a week to keep her children fed and housed. We need look no further than the Central American refugees at our southern border fleeing persecution and immiseration, seeking a better life in the USA.
The Poor Man, the Peasant King, is with us everyday. Jesus lives in our hearts but he also lives in the places furthest out of the eyes of mainstream society, where poor and working people struggle to meet their basic needs under the oppressive thumb of a patriarchal, nativist, racial capitalist world system. As we enter into 2023, let us boldly worship God by working towards making a world where all unjust systems and institutions are torn down and the world is remade for the perpetual worship of our Creator, meaning a world where all poor people are fed, cared for, loved, and free.
102 notes
·
View notes
This idea of home beyond the nation state where we find common ground and bonds of mutual care with other communities where we live was their anti-capitalist alternative. To fight for justice wherever we are, with and for people who are, and are not, related to us. Because, as Fenya Fischler, a member of Een Andere Joodse Stem/Another Jewish Voice, Belgium argues: “Our safety is a mere illusion if it relies on walls and weapons to keep those we dehumanise out.” In the famous words of Bundist, Marek Edelman, the Jewish Polish political activist and cardiologist who was the last surviving leader of the 1943 Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, “to be a Jew means always being with the oppressed and never the oppressors.” This is what will keep us safe.
Koni Benson in African Arguments. Making Home, not taking it: Anti-Imperialism and Anti-Zionism from South Africa today
South African Jews for a Free Palestine stand firmly behind a history of anti-imperial, anti-Zionist Jewish visions of liberation.
*This text is adapted from a speech given at the Global Day of Action for Palestine Rally at the Sea Point Promenade, Cape Town South Africa, 13 Jan 2024.
8 notes
·
View notes
Industrial methods of worker control were prefigured on plantations, which sought to maximize the labor of enslaved Black people otherwise unmotivated to produce value for those who kept them captive. While the relationship between industrial and plantation worker control is foundational, it is essential to recognize that there is no easy equivalence between the terror-enforced racialized labor regimes of plantation slavery, and industrial labor processes that drew on technologies developed on plantations.5 Plantation management—and the relations of domination that structured the plantation—was anchored in a view of Black people as commodities, as something-not-quite-human. And the conditions of bondage on the plantation defined the category of “unfreedom” against which white workers could be classified as “free.”
...
In Dark Matters: On the Surveillance of Blackness, Simone Browne demonstrates that power over enslaved people was executed through bureaucratic technologies that divided enslaved workers, prescribed their routines and motions, and calibrated their movements with the goal of managing and controlling “every moment of enslaved life.”11 Her work clarifies the interplay between the strict division and quantification of life and labor on plantations, and how such segmentation served to make enslaved people observable to overseers and managers.12 The fragmentation of production, whether in the field or the factory, shifts power away from those doing the work to owners who benefit from defining and overseeing a coherent view of workers and the labor process. Such a view doesn’t emerge on its own. Rather, it is produced through records, metrics, and standardized assessments—and we must understand the term “record keeping” to be a synonym for “surveillance.” Monitoring and quantification of work and workers was the first, and arguably most important, step in populating plantation records. And these records’ demands for data and information in turn shaped how labor was divided and managed, in service of making work and workers as visible and quantifiable as possible.
...
Iskander illuminates how designations of skill—and the power that capital claims to define what is and is not “skilled”—work to produce and naturalize conditions of bondage, creating a hierarchy of “deservedness” that justifies conditions of precarity and domination for the “unskilled.”20 The concept of skill is also racialized. In a “free” labor context, “skill” is narrated as something (white) workers possess and serves as an index of the wages a worker can deduct from the profits desired by capitalists—a sum they can, in theory, negotiate or refuse. On the plantation, enslaved Black people were not ascribed the capacity for skill. They were narrated as incapable of possessing skill, and any prowess they displayed was attributed to biological differences that nonetheless marked them as inferior—animal capacity, not human ingenuity. Racial categories structure who is deemed able to possess skill to begin with, while marking a lack of skill as a condition of unfreedom and thus a condition of Blackness.21
28 notes
·
View notes