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Kent Law Review
Number of Followers: 7  Open Access journalISSN (Online) 2056-4376 Published by U of Kent  [4 journals]
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- ‘Blackness’ is a key site through which surveillance is practiced,
narrated and enacted. In short, as S. Browne puts it: ‘Surveillance is
nothing new to black folks. It is the fact of antiblackness’.
Authors: Niki Kapourelakou
Abstract: “We were hemmed in upon every side”.[1] This statement by Frederick Douglass, although short and concise, powerfully conveys the implications of being constantly overlooked and observed, with no ability of escaping other's gaze, a process familiar in the lives of black slaves. An absence of privacy is what one recognizes as the effect of being interminably watched from every corner, with different methods of surveillance used to strip the observed from their rights, including what Simone Browne describes as 'racializing surveillance'.[2] Racializing surveillance is defined as an exercise of social control enacted through methods of surveillance practices and techniques that allow for the “power to define what is in or out of place”.[3] This suggests an interpretation of surveillance as the act of defining what constitute social norms based on race, whilst giving the watcher the ability to control another’s social standing. Racializing surveillance involves strategies of observation and tracking used by the privileged white society during postcolonialism and the transatlantic slave trade; strategies which privilege the white man while conducting discriminatory treatment against those being racialized.[4] Although many understand surveillance as a phenomenon of contemporary technological advances, and as providing protection against criminal behaviour, what many do not understand is that its enactment can be tracked back to the emergence of slavery. One needs to consider the techniques used for controlling the lives of black societies in earlier epochs, in order to recognize the relationships and similarities between those and the surveillance methods we are familiar with, whilst also understanding their long-lasting effects of racializing surveillance.[5] This paper will argue that surveillance is not a contemporary aspect of society enacted through technological advances, but rather stems from an era of slave trade and postcolonialism that targeted black peoples, and enforced methods to control their social standing by taking away their rights. Browne’s ‘racializing surveillance’ can be explored in depth by looking at ways in which black slaves were treated as property white slaveholders were entitled to, an aspect found in the methods of tracking through runaway advertisements, biometric surveillance techniques such as branding, and the introduction of the Book of Negroes. Other surveillance methods, enacted for social control included constant observation using the elements of space and light, creating a depiction of black criminalisation partnered with suspicious behaviour, one that has since evolved into gratuitous racial profiling. In addition, this essay will explore relationships between methods used during postcolonialism and the transatlantic slave trade, and the surveillance techniques apparent today such as CCTV, passports, and fingerprint scanning. Tracing back to black slavery, the entities of light and space, as well as their interconnection, were predominantly used in creating systematic racialized surveillance. Light and space were used in architecture to enforce the power of the sovereign by creating discipline through observation. In 1786, the Panopticon was conceived by Jeremy Bentham, transferring the idea of discipline into a tangible being; a circular prison with an observation tower standing in the centre.[6] The central concept of this architectural design was viewpoints and sight, the ‘inspector’s’ process of watching all.[7] Foucault interpreted the Panopticon as an act of disciplinary surveillance, with the focus falling upon the prisoners and their inability of knowing whether at any specific time they are being watched. Surveillance in the Panopticon can be discerned through its use of space. The prison cells placed on the circumference of the building meant that the observation tower could see all at every moment. Nothing could be done around the prison that would not be witnessed by the inspector. Cells were also built using methods which minimized communication between the prisoners. Small lamps were placed on each of the tower’s windows during night-time, so that the security apparent in the day could be extended to the night, creating an inability of knowing whether one is being watched or not at any given time, due to the blinding light. There were rules and strict timetables prisoners had to follow to avoid punishment. These factors, took away the prisoner’s rights and privacy, and allowed 'the sovereign' to force discipline and self-surveillance upon its subjects. It is important to recognize the argument that Foucault’s interpretation of the Panopticon is not necessarily what Bentham intended. Bentham’s implications of liberalism within its design suggests this distinction from Foucault’s understanding and theory, as he aimed to free prisoners from coercion (in the form of violence) within the prison, whilst giving a certain autonomy to the prisons’ administration by disallowing superiors from commenting on a prison’s performance.[8] This provides an argument against the idea that surveillance was used throughout history to limit the power of people while handing superiority to the sovereign. Having said this, Foucault’s interpretation holds importance in conveying that this design did in fact create an all-seeing sovereign through the central observation tower, and therefore a power-relationship whereby space and light were used to strip prisoners of their rights, provide the sovereign with the power, and ...
PubDate: 2022-09-11
DOI: 10.22024/UniKent/03/klr.1100
Issue No: Vol. 7, No. 1 (2022)
- Did Edward Said’s Orientalism inaugurate a new kind of study of
colonialism'
Authors: Leah Arthur
Abstract: Jozsef Borocz and Mahua Sarkar’s definition of colonialism acknowledges that it is simultaneously a practice and a worldview. In practice, colonialism refers to “the domination of a society by settlers from a different society” whereas as a worldview it is a “global geopolitical, economic and cultural doctrine that is rooted in the worldwide expansion of West European capitalism that survived until well after the collapse of most colonial empires”.[1] The latter definition alludes to the fact that the effects of colonialism have a long-lasting influence on the countries and people that have experienced said system. These effects are what postcolonialism encapsulates. Postcolonial theory revolves around the “political, aesthetic, economic, historical and social impact of European colonial rule”.[2] It is seen as highlighting “the colonial experience from the colonised society’s point of view.”[3] Edward Said is widely recognised to be one of the central scholars within the postcolonial field. Born in Western Jerusalem in 1935, this Palestinian American Professor of English and Comparative Literature, and Political Activist, is often recognised to be a founding figure in the development of postcolonial theory. While Said’s diverse background often left him feeling ‘out of place’, he managed to turn this alienation into a tool that benefitted his work.[4] His prestigious Western education coupled with his Middle Eastern background created a distinct point of view of the West and colonialism.[5] This unique perspective was mirrored in his ground-breaking book, Orientalism[6]. Published in 1978, Orientalism was extremely critical of our understandings of the West and its relationship with the East. Said presented three interpretations of orientalism: as a field of study; as a binary opposition between the Occident and Orient; and, as a Western tool of authority and power. These definitions have been both conformed to and heavily criticized in the years since publication. However, the impact of Orientalism is unquestionable and often credited to be the foundation upon which the study of postcolonialism developed. With this in mind, this essay will seek to answer the question of whether Said’s Orientalism inaugurated a new study of colonialism. It will consider the prominent studies of colonialism in the pre-Orientalism era, the new ideas Orientalism presented and its influence on the development of postcolonialism, the arguments against the idea of it being a new field of study, and lastly, its influence on successive postcolonial theorists. BEFORE SAID In order to appreciate the new ideas presented by Said, one must first acknowledge some of the major theories revolving around colonialism that preceded it. Discussions of colonialism generally found their roots in advancing Western superiority and saw any deviation from the associated ideals as inferior. A presiding theme that generally arose can be described as Rudyard Kipling’s “white man’s burden”, where the West believed that they had no choice but to colonise in order to ensure that Western ideals were instilled in others.[7] Evidence of this ‘saviour mentality’ is found in the 16th century Valladolid Debate.[8] Deemed the first moral debate in European history, it dealt with the Spanish rights to conquest and the treatment of the indigenous Indians. Juan Gines de Sepulveda argued that the Spanish had a “right to rule” because of the barbaric, ignorant and unreasoning nature of the Indians.[9] These views were mirrored in the work of Denis Diderot and his concept of the “noble savage”.[10] Diderot’s “noble savage” acknowledged indigenous people to operate by nature and are therefore to be inherently good despite being uncivilised. While this seemed advantageous, it actually created high expectations of what indigenous people would be like and subsequent disappointment, which fuelled an idea that this noble savage was a myth.[11] Previous theories of orientalism also aligned with these ideas. As noted by Hector Roddan “[b]efore Said, orientalism referred to the study of the history, language and culture of ancient and modern Asiatic societies”.[12] Said highlighted the work of two orientalists: Arthur James Balfour and Lord Cromer. Both theorists saw the Orient as irrational, childlike and thus in need of guidance.[13] Furthermore, they felt that these characteristics could be universally applied to any Orient, regardless of their peculiarities. Both Balfour and Cromer’s theories of orientalism revolved around knowledge and power. As highlighted by Said, Balfour believes that “England knows Egypt” and that “Egypt is what England knows”.[14] This knowledge translates into a justification for domination and authority through colonialism and occupation.[15] Cromer’s theory was based on his direct experiences with these ‘subject races’. In addition to knowledge, the colonised-coloniser relationship for Cromer was based on Western strength. He saw the Orient solely as something to govern, upon which the strength of the West could be ...
PubDate: 2022-09-08
DOI: 10.1093/obo/9780190221911-0069> (accessed 26/04/2021)
Issue No: Vol. 7, No. 1 (2022)
- Are we all Human' Anti-Colonial Consciousness and Critique of Humanism
Authors: Riya Bhattacharya
Abstract: Are we all Human' Anti-Colonial Consciousness and Critique of Humanism Introduction “I place my ear upon the ground And listen to the earth of Africa, Voices rise from Uganda; from Mozambique In South Africa, pink-soled feet shatter their chains in fury” — Tanganyika Reportage Nazim Hikmet “Before dropping off to sleep he thought: the face of the French cop…the face of the Nazi torturer at Buchenwald and Dachau, the face of the hysterical mob at Little Rock, the face of the Afrikaner bigot and the Portuguese butcher in Angola, and, yes, the black faces of Lumumba’s murderers—they were all the same face. Wherever this face was found, it was his enemy; and whoever feared, or suffered from, or fought against this face was his brother.” —The Stone Face William Gardner Smith “It is a bitter and tragic fact that, for the Europeans in Algeria, being a Man means first and foremost superiority to the Muslims…[they need] to humiliate them, to crush their pride and drag them down to animal level…It is Man himself they want to destroy, with all his human qualities…the very qualities the coloniser claims for himself” —Introduction to Henri Alleg’s The Question Jean-Paul Sartre “I accept internationalism only when Africa and Asia can be free to choose on par with those 500 million in the colonial countries. In that case I will accept it as humanism, meaning the true equality of humanity. However, as long as I am not a human being, and I am accused of being ‘primitive’, I cannot do anything. The Westerner’s relationship with me will be like a slave-foreman relationship, or an empty-handed man with a capitalist. The former should toil, so the latter can get all the profit”. —The mission of the free thinker in society Ali Shariati (trans. Fatollah Marjani) In the last quote above, Shariati uses the number “500 million” in order to echo something that Sartre had stated in his famous preface to Fanon’s “The Wretched of the Earth” (Sartre/Fanon, 2001, pg.7). Sartre, the key thinker of French existentialism, and an intellectual inspiration for both Shariati and Fanon, had critiqued what we may term ‘classical’ European humanism sixteen years before writing the preface, arguing that it is the basis for a “cult of humanity”, an ideology that eventually gives way to fascism (Sartre, 2007, pg.52). Yet it is with the arrival of Fanon and the brutality of the Algerian liberation war that Sartre expands this thought and pays attention to the use of ‘humanism’ outside of Europe’s borders, with its relationship to colonial domination (Sartre/Fanon, 2001, pg.21-23). The earth had been divided into two: “five hundred million men, and one thousand five hundred million natives” (Sartre/Fanon, 2001, pg.7). Just as Fanon describes the native who “discovers reality and transforms it…into his plan for freedom” (Sartre/Fanon, 2001, pg.45), Sartre’s statement captures a sort of awakening to reality for those who choose in the colonial centres who chose (or were elsewise unable to avoid) to listen to the newfound voice of the third-world; to see colonialism for what it really is. The colonised, the “others who become men in name against us (the coloniser)”, strip European humanism down from its abstract notions and reveal it to be “nothing but an ideology of lies, a perfect justification for pillage…its affections of sensibility only alibis for our aggressions” (Sartre/Fanon, 2001, pg.21-22). European humanism was revealed to be, according to Sartre, a “racist humanism, since the European has only been able to become a man through creating slaves and monsters” (Sartre/Fanon, 2001, pg.22). This has a duel meaning: “Europe is literally a creation of the third world” not only materially, but also European ‘Man’ is a creation that only exists in relation to the defining of the colonised as ‘natives’ (Sartre/Fanon, 2001, pg.81). The exploited workers of the first world were nevertheless given the ‘human’ status, whereas the colonised had to be reduced to the status of “superior monkeys” (Sartre/Fanon, 2001, pg.13). The European was able to justify their non-human treatment of the colonised, their enslavement, forced labour and torture, via Man, having ownership over the natural world-separate from the human being (Sartre/Fanon, 2001, pg.13). The so-called “monkeys” were just like the raw materials of the Earth - free to be extracted and exploited. Yet at the same time they can never fully be dehumanised, for “to be able to give them orders, to get them to work, however brutal the regime, their basic humanity has to be acknowledged” (Majumdar, 2007, pg.93). Humanism is, therefore, inherently paradoxical. It is based as much on defining the human and giving one human status as it is on denying the undeniable humanity of the other. The contradiction of “laying claim to and denying the human condition at the same time” is, as was shown by the Algerian war of independence, an explosive one (Sartre/Fanon, 2001, pg.17). Denying the equality of the colonised long reduced humanity to, as Cesaire so accurately put it, a “mere monologue” (Cesaire, 2000, pg.74). Levinas summarised this standpoint succinctly: “Humanity consists of the Bible and the Greeks. All the rest can be translated: all the rest-all the exotic-is dance” (Dabashi, 2019, pg.65). Within and following the anti-colonial moment however, there has been a growth of decolonial thinkers who have forcibly broken...
PubDate: 2022-08-30
DOI: 10.22024/UniKent/03/klr.1093
Issue No: Vol. 7, No. 1 (2022)
- It has been argued that ‘blackness’ is a key site through which
surveillance is practiced, narrated and enacted. In short, as S. Browne
puts it: ‘Surveillance is nothing new to black folks. It is the fact of
antiblackness’. (S. Browne, Dark Matters, p.10)
Authors: Ogugua Chizea
Abstract: Introduction Surveillance has spilled out of nation state containers to become an essential part of everyday life.[1] It could be argued that we exist in a fear-based economy as we are governed by precautions, for society lies not in the present, but in the future.[2] In essence the goal of the surveillance society and the safety oriented state is to predict and prevent calamities, by classifying and sorting people into different risk categories. As such surveillance practices could be described as a necessary evil adopted by many nation states to promote safety. However, in the course of achieving this, it is important to recognize that these practices are not as neutral or as objective as they may seem. In actuality, they have adverse effects on communities of colour, particularly black people as they have the potential for mistakes, racial discrimination, abuse and loss of personal freedoms.[3] Through accessing Browne’s idea of racialized surveillance, this essay seeks to explore the presence of racism and antiblackness in these surveillance practices. Drawing on Fanon’s concept of epidermalization, it seeks to explain how the meaning of blackness is defined through the white gaze, and show how this process of epidermalization is perpetuated through different surveillance methods such as law enforcement, biometric technology and algorithmic databases. In so doing it would also highlight how surveillance practices function as a tool for modern day colonialism, thereby supporting Browne’s view that blackness is a key site through which surveillance is practiced, narrated and enacted.[4] Surveillance and Epidermalization The term ‘Surveillance’ originates from the French word, ‘sur’, meaning from above, and ‘veiller’, which means observing or watching.[5] Since its creation, the term surveillance has been interpreted by different scholars. Using the metaphorical representation of the Panopticon, Foucault and Bentham have described surveillance as a tool for governance and discipline.[6] Following this, modern academics like David Lyon have explained that surveillance serves three purposes: control, social sorting, and mutual monitoring.[7] Essentially the common purpose identified is that surveillance involves social sorting for the purpose of governance or discipline. This raises a number of questions. Firstly, who is considered a threat or criminal' And more importantly, Who or What defines these terms' To Fanon and Browne, the answer is the white gaze. In his acclaimed piece ‘Black Skin White Mask’ Fanon explores the concept of the white gaze by outlining the process of ‘epidermalization’, whereby the skin becomes defined through the white gaze.[8] He explains this concept by recalling his encounter with a white child who was frightened by the mere sight of him.[9] By simply seeing him the white child felt he was dangerous and a threat to his safety. With this, Fanon demonstrates the success story of racism and colonialism, such that his skin became the physical representation of his identity. The effect of the Child’s gaze, that is the white gaze is that it transformed his bodily existence, which was once care-free in his race, into a ‘Negro’s body’.[10] With this he explains that there is no ontology reserved for the black man because he is defined through the white gaze.[11] As such, blackness is a relational term deriving its meaning solely from the white gaze. Moreover, whiteness essentially represents what it means to be modern, civilized and human, whilst the black man is the opposite of this; seen as the other, a criminal or a threat.[12] The power to determine who is a threat and a criminal and therefore who should be placed under constant surveillance is thus determined by the white gaze. And, by being the other the black man becomes the object of constant surveillance, with s the skin serving as sufficient evidence for suspicion.[13] Hence racialized surveillance is the process of monitoring the racial body through a white racial frame.[14] It involves the surveillance of black bodies through the white gaze as an attempt to maintain the state as a white social space.[15] As Anderson explains, the ‘white social space involves a perceptual category which represents a normative sensibility in which black people are normally absent, not expected or marginalized’.[16] As such, racialized surveillance involves surveillance policies, performances and practices that reinforce notions that, particularly in certain racialized spaces, the mere presence of black people is perceived as abnormal or even criminal.[17] Surveillance by Law Enforcement. As rightfully stated by Simone Browne, surveillance is nothing new to black folks, as it has always been an integral part of the black experience.[18] Although surveillance methods are often times associated with technology, the human eye serves as a body borne camera.[19] As such it is necessary to exa...
PubDate: 2022-08-30
DOI: 10.22024/UniKent/03/klr.1092
Issue No: Vol. 7, No. 1 (2022)
- Interview with Lord Reed
Authors: Jireh Akandwanaho, Amber Lennox
Abstract: Lord Reed Interview Transcript Jireh: Firstly, thank you for sitting down with us. How are you enjoying your time here at Kent Law School so far' Lord Reed: It’s a great pleasure to be here. I’ve been made very welcome by the staff and the students I’ve met, and I’ve met some very impressive young people doing lots of good work! Jireh: You have held various roles and different positions in your career, now leading to the Presidency of the Supreme Court; congratulations on that. How have you found the role so far, especially given the start of the pandemic soon after you were appointed, did it change anything for the role' Lord Reed: It’s always a challenge to lead an institution; especially one that’s as important and prominent as the Supreme Court. It would be a challenge at the best of times; the pandemic brought a whole set of challenges that I hadn’t anticipated. We had to adapt to working online, just like the University. We had the same sorts of problems of people not being able to come together and having to work from their homes; often without a quiet place to work, or with children still at home. Or people who live alone finding it depressing to be unable to go into work. We had a number of new judges join the court during the lockdown, some of whom had never met the other members of the court. The format of working online made hearings more constrained and formal than they would normally be. At the same time, the lockdown also prompted the introduction of changes, which I had in mind, faster than they would have otherwise happened. For example, instead of having enormous bundles of papers, having electronic files, with the documents for the cases being filed electronically. And having an electronic library, rather than using books. The court was able to cope with the pandemic very well, all things considered, but we are very pleased to be back in the building, having live hearings; as I’m sure you’re all happy to be back at university having live classes. Apart from the pandemic, it has been an interesting time for a number of reasons. One is that the government has had a variety of ideas for changes which could affect the courts. So we’ve had consultation papers to respond to, and discussions with government. Following the prorogation case, in particular, I was keen to try to build a stronger relationship with Parliament and ensure that our role was better understood than it may have been. And so I’ve been able to plan how best to go about that with the Speaker of the House of Commons, and the Speaker of the House of Lords. Although constraints on social gatherings have delayed going into that as fully as I’d have liked to. The opportunity will arise, probably next year. In the meantime we’ve taken steps to address a number of issues where I’ve felt the court could be doing more, for example, in relation to diversity and inclusion, and in relation to our international relationships with other courts around the world. Amber: In the past you’ve been the President of the EU Forum of Judges for the Environment; with COP26 having just ended, what is your view on agreements reached, and do you think we are doing enough to reach the goal of cutting emissions by 45% by 2030' Lord Reed: My impression is that we are probably not doing enough. I don’t mean we, personally, in the UK; my impression is that the UK is one of the countries doing more than the average. But I don’t think we are doing enough. The difficulty is that there are obviously all sorts of reasons why different countries are reluctant to do as much as they could, and we’ve no means of compelling them. I’m worried about the consequences in the long run. It really has to be a matter of diplomacy to persuade other people to do more than they seem currently willing to do. One can only hope that by the time they become prepared to do more, it isn’t too late for serious consequences to be averted. Amber: Do you think that there is a legal route that we might be able to take, to help the cause [climate crisis] along, so to speak' Lord Reed: Well, courts can help by enforcing environmental laws, obviously. Our Court, for example, has repeatedly made rulings requiring air pollution to be addressed, particularly in London, and that helps. But at the end of the day, in a democracy, courts apply the laws which the legislature approves, and the problem is more one to do with the state of public opinion. People watch a David Attenborough documentary, and they’re anxious about the fate of polar bears, but when it comes to the daily reality of their central heating, their cars, and all the other things which contribute to global warming, people are reluctant to make real changes unless they are compelled to do so. Jireh: Being an ad hoc judge on the European Court of Human Rights, do you feel that Brexit has affected your role in any way, and the connection between the British and the European Union judicial systems' Lord Reed: Well, our leaving the EU is obviously a profoundly important step, which will affect the law in many ways. One thing it won’t affect is the European Court of Human Rights, because that’s quite separate from the EU; I can continue to sit, if I am invited to, on the Strasbourg court. Also, it’s not affecting the relationship between judges in Britain and judges on the Continent. For example, I remain a associate member of the EU network of Presidents of Supreme Courts, by invitation; so I have regular meetings with the presidents of the 27 remaining member states’ Supreme Courts; we have a meeting wi...
PubDate: 2022-08-30
DOI: 10.22024/UniKent/03/klr.1094
Issue No: Vol. 7, No. 1 (2022)
- Does the Politics of Recognition function as a mechanism for the
amelioration of colonialism’s effects, or as a means through which these
effects are reproduced'
Authors: Monique Mcintosh
Abstract: The Politics of Recognition is a theory that provides a lens through which we can understand relations between two or more individuals, and its effect on one’s understanding of self. The struggle to be recognised by another individual shapes one’s identity, meaning that key aspects of one’s identity, such as self-worth, can only be present through positive recognition from others; this struggle to be recognised is what many recognition theorists deem to be the catalyst of social struggles and thus mutual recognition is central for a just society. The title therefore invites us to question whether the politics of recognition can be used in a context of postcolonialism[1] and adequately address and dismantle the remanences of colonialism, or whether this is a façade, and even if unbeknown, recognition is in fact a tool that works to reproduce the effects of colonialism. In such a context, I argue that although inaccurate recognition is a clear effect of colonialism, ‘proper’ recognition cannot eradicate such effects. I argue that to suggest that it does, would be to disregard and oversimplify the complexities and power structures at play in post-colonial contexts. In order to illustrate this, I will firstly be addressing the arguments of those who argue that recognition can be a successful tool, and then highlight the shortcomings and limitations of such an argument. I will then go on highlight how exactly recognition in such a context is a counterproductive and a negatively reproductive tool. Finally, I will be highlighting what mechanism I would suggest as more appropriate to combat and dismantle the effects of colonialism.[2] Mechanism for the amelioration of colonialism’s effects The Politics of Recognition theory is grounded in Hegel’s Slave and Master dialect. Hegel illustrates the development of self-consciousness through the meeting of two people. Through this illustration Hegel depicts two independent ‘self-consciousnesses’ who engage in a life-and-death struggle. They struggle as they each see the other as a threat, as their understanding of themselves has shifted from objective to subjective. In light of such a shift each individual fights to the greatest extent to be able to understand their strength in relation to the other, whilst also trying to prove each’s worth to the other. Out of such a conflict a master/slave relationship is produced.[3] Solomon notes that through this idea Hegel is able to illustrate how the: “Human existence is primordially a matter of mutual recognition, and it is only through mutual recognition that we are self-aware and strive for the social meanings in our lives”.[4] Such a concept was then built upon, most distinctly by Charles Taylor who linked recognition to identity and freedom. Identity, which Taylor classes as understanding oneself and our defining characteristics, is partly shaped by recognition or its absence. The latter of which, misrecognition, can lead to a distorted understanding of oneself. Taylor goes on to say that misrecognition or non-recognition can be a form of oppression and imprisoning, resulting in a reduced mode of being barred from the freedom that recognition brings.[5] How this then links to contexts of post-colonialism can be seen in works such as those of Axel Honneth who argued that a leading motivation for social struggle is the feeling of shame, anger and rage felt when individuals believe they are not being recognised as they should. In light of this Honneth produces a three-stage illustration of three forms of recognition, with the latter two being relevant to issues of social struggle.[6] Firstly, a child gains self-confidence through their needs being met by the carer. Secondly, self-respect is developed upon gaining equal legal personalities as they are recognised as morally responsible. Thirdly, self-esteem is developed when one’s particular traits are recognised as valuable.[7] Honneth argues that going through these three stages provides a means where “one can be sure of the social value of one’s identity”, thus negating the need for conflict.[8] Through such understandings scholars have concluded that an adequate remedy to such social struggles, importantly including the effects of colonialism, is through recognition. Taylor himself noted that as a result of colonialism, imagery of inferiority and savagery have been projected onto the colonized people to the extent to which the colonised mind internalises such misrecognition and imagery, resulting in self-hatred. Taylor therefore concludes that to counter such a result: “due recognition is not just a courtesy we owe people. It is a vital human need”, as for Taylor, freedom can only be established when another recognises another for what they truly are.[9] Such an understanding of recognition can be understood as the ‘deficit model’.[10] This model, termed by Cillian McBride, approaches issues of oppression and injustice, which has clear parallels to the context of post-colonialism, with noting a distorted or lack of recognition. It proposes either: (a) expanding or adjusting current patterns of recognition, or (b) instantiating forms of recognition where they were previously withheld.[11] However, it will be argued that Taylor and Honneth’s deficit model...
PubDate: 2022-08-29
DOI: 10.22024/UniKent/03/klr.1091
Issue No: Vol. 7, No. 1 (2022)
