Abstract
This introduction offers “security from the South” as a method and an analytic to trace the colonial continuities, the imperial geographies, and the forms of difference through which people become subjects of, resist, and shore up security regimes across the world. Rather than one overarching set of politics, practices, and ideas that constitute “security,” the essay insists on a pluriversal lens onto a world in which security regimes appear beguilingly universal. Using a transnational feminist approach, we contest the boundedness of the category of the “Global South,” instead emphasizing the fluidity between supposedly separate scales (e.g., North/South, intimate/global, etc.). Thinking across time and space allows for consideration of the ways in which the US empire has shaped practices elsewhere, but not in isolation, not without tension, and not without links to other empires. Security from the South thus encompasses imperial “war on terror” projects, but has a before and after to such projects, as security regimes across the Global South are enmeshed in longer histories of colonialism and racisms, religion, and gender/sexuality.
Recent elections globally have been marked by security discourses backed by a resurgent militarism. In Brazil, Jair Bolsonaro drew on his military background to form a governing alliance of militarized actors and Pentecostal conservatives in 2018. In India, Narendra Modi won the 2019 prime ministerial election by calling himself the “watchman” of the nation, leading the resurgence of a militant Hinduism. In Kenya, Uhuru Kenyatta and William Ruto framed the 2013 elections in religio-political narratives of redemption, offering the nation a chance to be “born again,” and to free itself from the horrors of the 2007–8 election violence.1 Meanwhile in the United States, the slogan “America First” came to represent Donald Trump's brand of white supremacy, with Trump emerging as the quintessential patriarchal authority claiming to protect American families from purported threats posed by migrants and terrorists. All of these leaders, among many others, are men whose relationship to religious, corporate, and militarized masculinity is central to their authority.2 In short, political leaders across the world, largely men, have become entangled in distinct yet connected forms of political and moral authority that legitimize and sustain gendered, sexualized, and racialized logics of militarism and policing.
This special issue critically reflects on security regimes—and their effects and entanglements—across the world, particularly as they rely on forms of authority that draw from gendered, racial, and religious movements. At stake is the question whether it is possible to conceive of security as one monolithic system or, instead, as a series of interlinked and mutually reinforcing regimes. While we emphasize the significance of shared logics of rule, we are skeptical of singular understandings or frames.3 We ground our inquiry not only in empirical studies in/of the Global South but also in a commitment to explore epistemologies and concepts that emerge from these contexts. Deploying a transnational feminist approach, we capture the fluidity between supposedly separate scales (e.g., North/South, intimate/global, etc.) at which religion, gender, and race operate.4 While we are interested in interconnections between seemingly discrete populations and territories, security from the South as a method and as an analytic suggests that it is not possible to speak of one overarching set of politics, practices, and ideas that constitute security regimes today. Instead, in tracing the colonial continuities, the imperial geographies, and the forms of difference through which people become subjects of, resist, and shore up security regimes, we insist on a pluriversal lens onto a world in which “security” appears beguilingly universal.5
The essays in this issue track the place of difference in the making of, and resistance to, security logics and modes of rule. From everyday policing to counterinsurgency and drone warfare, we approach “security” as a logic of power. We understand governance related to security to mean a preoccupation with threat posed by purportedly suspicious “others,” a project that connects family and community to the state, private companies, and international bodies.
The project of security has taken on affective dimensions, becoming a formidable tool for mobilizing fears, and making emotion central to the cultivation of national attachments as well as exclusions.6 In this sense, “security” is something lived and felt as much as it is a policy or institutional practice—whether by those on the receiving end of policing and war, or by “citizen forces” who take on the mantle of vigilance.7
The “Global South” as a Field of Power
How does the “Global South” as a field of power, linked to multiple and layered imperial histories, shed light on the changing articulations of security today? In the 1930s, Antonio Gramsci and W. E. B. Du Bois were among the first to employ the idea of “South” to capture uneven relations of power.8 By the end of the twentieth century, in the aftermath of the Cold War, the term Global South has continued to offer a critical alternative to the flattening and homogenizing notion of globalization.9 Academics and activists alike have employed vocabularies of North/South and core/periphery to refer to uneven patterns of wealth across broad regions, and to emphasize the continued relevance of histories of colonialism for our understandings of geopolitical power relations and persisting inequalities. Within mainstream North American policy and academic circles, regions of the Global South are often preemptively diagnosed as threatening geographies. In what Junaid Rana refers to as “racialized regionalisms,” policymakers and their “expert” counterparts in the US academy imagine different countries as a single geopolitical mass, producing arguments about regional exceptionalism that are then used to justify foreign intervention.10
Critical scholarship on security and securitization remains focused primarily on the project of US empire, or more broadly, on the hegemonic military powers of the Global North that aim to control national borders and the flow of capital. Despite the richness of this material, one of the risks is that we are left with reified conceptualizations of empire as a singular, totalizing force, accompanied with spatially predetermined centers and recipients of imperial power. This, as Ella Shohat reminds us, presupposes neat binaries of East vs. West and North vs. South and “ironically repositions whiteness and Westerners as a normative interlocutor.”11 In this context, regions in the Global South are analyzed only in relation to US interests. Global South states are conceptualized merely as “proxies,” or as passive recipients of “global” designs, wherein they are positioned geographically outside of the “global.”12
Importantly, the conceptual binarism (North/South, etc.) that Shohat describes also contributes to a bypassing of those who do not fit neatly into either category, especially as states that fall within the “Global South” of American security empire are key enactors of security regimes influential in their respective regions. Think India or Kenya. While some of the essays contained here (particularly those on India by Sahana Ghosh and by Inderpal Grewal, Dipin Kaur, and Sasha Sabherwal; and on Kenya by Samar Al-Bulushi) direct analytical attention to the histories and practices of Global South security states, the issue as a whole interrogates the boundedness of the category of the “Global South” itself, resisting the notion that it refers to a fixed geography. We scrutinize the politics of geohistorical categories wherein the world map is divided into distinct territories and regions that signify difference.13 We work alongside those scholars who have traced the various ways in which the peoples and places “of” the Global South have always been transnational, not confined to any one region or formally defined territory.14 They illustrate that contemporary imperial formations are informed and shaped by pre- and postcolonial repertoires of rule, and that diasporic populations now living in what is known as the Global North are increasingly entwined in these very imperial formations.
The essays are therefore most compelled by the notion of complicated itineraries rather than unidirectional flows, and do not insist on an already-determined “revolutionary subject” as a prerequisite for feminist analysis.15 We are reluctant to conceive of the “South” only through the lens of emancipation—as this comes with the risk of mystification and romanticization—and are attentive to actors and practices that simultaneously challenge and reinscribe hegemonic power relations.16 Some essays feature actors who would be considered problematic from the standpoint of liberation politics. Both Deborah A. Thomas and Negar Razavi, for example, shed light on diasporic experts who in many ways make possible the forms of power that police the South, showing how those identified as coming from the “South” become complicit in reproducing knowledge about the South. As Thomas probes in her piece: how should we understand diasporic actors who occupy a subaltern position as racial minorities in the United States, but who wield considerable power returning to Global South security states? Is it sufficient to conceive of them as an extension of imperial power emanating from the Global North? Such figures, in many ways, constitute the “other” of leftist analysis and critique. They are both positioned as Global South actors while also politically other than the authentic, revolutionary subject imagined by Global North leftists. If “Security from the South” complicates such separations of North from South, perhaps the most radical reorientation that we invite is to ask where the “heart” of empire is. Razavi's essay about the transnational networks of funding and knowledge making that dominate US policy making on security prompts critical questions about how a seemingly distant “Middle East” operates within the heart of Washington, DC, as influential Gulf states attempt to shape the direction of US foreign policy.
Militarized mapping exercises inscribe and reify dominant modes of geographic thought, delineating North and South, “native,” and “foreign.” Logics of contradistinction form the core of securitized rule (Ghosh, this issue), fixing subjects and states in place through gendered, racialized, and religious modes of differentiation. These discrete geographies of imagination foreclose consideration of alternative mapping practices, “many of which were/are produced outside the tenets of official cartography: fugitive and maroon maps, literacy maps, food-nourishment maps, family maps, music maps.”17 This issue brings into dialogue people, places, and politics seldom considered alongside one another—from residents of India's increasingly securitized yet “friendly” border with Bangladesh, to Arab and Iranian American security “experts” in Washington, DC, to the African troops and political elites who co-constitute geographies of global warfare. In doing so, we aim to analyze the varied logics of security regimes in a transnational context. We embrace both temporal and spatial promiscuity in the interest of theorizing security across divergent temporalities and spatialities.
A Transnational Feminist Approach to Security Imperialism
How might we capture the power of security as the dominant force organizing social life today without reifying it as a monolithic system or forestalling the possibility of developing a critical analysis that is attentive to connections across time and space? The contributors to this issue recognize that US hegemony extends to the university, such that the domain of critical security studies is preoccupied primarily with the workings of US empire. As women of color based in the Global North, we are attuned to the complexities of distance and proximity as we inhabit multiple locations and commitments. Like other feminist scholars, it is a consciousness of the politics of location that guides the questions we ask and the connections we make,18 cognizant that we are “equally accountable to unequal places.”19
When one considers the US government's export of ideologies and technologies of policing and militarism abroad, the term national security state fails to sufficiently account for its transnational and imperial dimensions.20 Yet while the United States is a hegemonic imperial formation, it is augmented, sustained, and sometimes in conflict with other hegemons (e.g., China, Russia) and regional strongmen (e.g., Kenya, Saudi Arabia, India), each with their own universalizing imaginaries. Our conceptualization of security imperialism is therefore attentive to multiple, overlapping circulations. “Communities in large swaths of the world,” as Al-Bulushi, Ghosh, and Tahir argue, “survive a multiscalar pluriverse of power and politics. These gritty relations have histories and imaginaries that intersect with but are not reducible to the imaginative and historical landscapes of the United States.”21 Consequently, we neither decenter the United States in favor of a seemingly external “local,” nor do we approach the study of other regions as simply the products of US influence. Thinking across time and space allows for consideration of the ways in which US empire has shaped practices elsewhere, but not in isolation, not without tension, and not without links to other empires. It also allows us to move beyond the US sphere of influence to consider histories that emerge from before American empire, and before its recent “global war on terror.”
“Security from the South” thus encompasses imperial “war on terror” projects, but asserts a before and after to such projects, as security regimes across the Global South are enmeshed in longer histories of colonialism and racisms, religion, and gender/sexuality. Contemporary anxieties about minority populations—be they gendered/sexual, religious, or racial—are not new but are the product of interactions between old histories and new provocations.22 As sovereignty is increasingly defined by security in the form of surveillance and militarized policing, religion, gender, and race are newly entangled in the production of divergent modes of power. We therefore foreground fluidity and multiplicity rather than coherence and unity.
To this end, our interest in processes of racialization is one that is attentive both to historical specificities, and to historically changing intersections and entanglements. We emphasize the structuring role of race and white supremacy in histories of colonial rule, dispossession, and extraction, noting the centrality of surveillance and policing to the production of difference. Logics of preemption in particular constitute multiscalar modes of racialization that are simultaneously enacted within US policing practices at home and war making abroad.23 At the same time, we are cognizant of what Anjali Arondekar refers to as “the invisible nationalism that undergirds most discussions of racial formations” in the United States.24 A relational framework allows for consideration of how the race concept assumes different meanings in dialogue with scattered hegemonies.25 The essays are attentive to the varying meanings and politics of Blackness, Islam, and Sikhism in different times and places, broadening our understandings of race and racialization beyond Eurocentric anxieties and teleologies.
The current wave of techno-fetishism among scholars in the Global North—particularly in relation to drones—conjures images of advanced technologies that are seemingly inaccessible across much of the Global South, all the while obscuring more mundane, but equally invasive, low-tech modes of monitoring and control on which the more technologically advanced modes remain reliant.26 With this in mind, the essay by Al-Bulushi asks us what it would mean to provincialize the imperial war room. If we are indeed committed to making sense of the infrastructures of endless war, Al-Bulushi argues, it seems that we must contend with other war rooms, and this may demand a different set of maps. A transnational feminist lens exhorts us to illuminate the binary that is produced and is at stake here: the production of the Kenyan street as the feminine/local on which the masculine/global of drone warfare is being enacted.27 As with the diasporic circulations and investments in multiple security states, security from the South reveals such entanglements, produced as separations, as heres and theres.
Gender and Religion
Our transnational feminist approach is attuned to the intersection of gender and religion in the logic of security regimes. While the critical scholarship on security and militarization have paid attention to its gendered, racial, and cultural aspects, attention to the role of religion and religious identity has been rare.28 The production of religious gendered subjects has long been central to colonial power, to nationalisms (imperial and postcolonial), and to security regimes. From the politics of “saving Muslim women” to “security feminisms,” the gendering of religious identities as instruments and targets of security regimes cannot be underestimated.29 Security regimes incorporate gendered and racialized experts into the security establishment while also offering practitioners heteronormative potentialities of power.30 Sahana Ghosh's essay, in particular, reveals how the maintenance of “peace” by the Indian security forces at its border with Bangladesh is carried out through heteropatriarchal modes of disciplining and silencing the Muslim and lower-caste citizens of the borderlands. Religion and heteropatriarchy work together to shore up the legitimacy of the security state and renew the minoritization of its border subjects.
When we decenter 9/11 as the defining turning point for the rise of “security,” we disrupt linear trajectories and allow for the rhizomatic ways in which the religious past appears in the present. Egypt, for example, enacted emergency laws long before 9/11 under the pretext of defending against religious violence. Meanwhile, Grewal, Kaur, and Sabherwal capture India's long history of painting Sikhs as violent militants, one that builds on a longer history—both colonial and precolonial—of religious identity as a racial project and also as a revolutionary formation.
Such colonial-racial logics of rule have continued into the postcolonial state. As Ghosh notes in her essay, Muslim communities in India are differently racialized and differentially constituted as minority citizens in a polity being reshaped along Hindu supremacist lines. In this sense, Kenya (Al-Bulushi), Egypt, and India, as well as Caribbean countries such as Jamaica, represent alternative itineraries to those offered by theorists of a US-led security empire, as security states across the Global South have long worked to shape ideas about the relationship between religion and “proper” uses of violence, designating state-sanctioned violence as legitimate (Thomas).
Purportedly secular states like the United States often conceive of religion as a political determinant of militarism and violence. Scholars like Saba Mahmood have examined how states manage religious ideology and practice, often by promoting religious “reform” in the name of peace and security.31 A rich body of work has traced the various ways in which surveillance and securitization have criminalized and queered the practice and identification with Islam in relation to the war on terror.32 It has also provided critical perspectives on the reconfigurations of citizenship as/of minorities at the intersections of race and religion.33 As the essays in this issue show, religion is deployed by security states in a number of ways: to create internal Others of the nation only to be tenuously included (Ghosh), to establish forms of moral authority that mobilize voting publics and consolidate majoritarian publics (Al-Bulushi; Grewal, Kaur, and Sabherwal) or to reify and racialize external threats through Islamophobia (Razavi).
“Security from the South” also raises questions about the liberal recognition of protests and disruptions in relation to security (in particular Ghosh; Thomas; Razavi). The issue draws attention to the multiple affective lives of security, some that turn up cracks in the hegemonic state story, some others that foreground contradictory diasporic and illiberal attachments. We emphasize the importance of being attuned to the ways in which religion, race, and gender articulate together in specific historical contexts. At the same time, these essays consider the religious underpinnings of security states, alerting us to the various ways in which authoritarian regimes allied to particular religious reform movements are displacing liberal-democratic modes of rule. Our use of transnational feminist approaches that critique such secular-liberal exceptionalism then enables us to suggest sovereignty's own fissures or multiplicities (Thomas) as much as it does the postcolonial state's ongoing engagements with gendered forms of religious and state authority.
At the broadest level, we explore how difference (religion, gender, race), a central project of the modern security state, articulates and operates within and through security regimes, through policies of “inclusion,” or exclusion, minoritization, or outright targeting that ultimately reproduce and entrench forms of hierarchy, exclusion, and sovereignty. A transnational feminist lens enables us to read seemingly unified security regimes otherwise, demanding conceptual reorientations in order to take seriously disruption and difference.
A Pluriversal Lens
The first set of essays (Thomas; Al-Bulushi; Grewal, Kaur, and Sabherwal) remind us that we need to look beyond the Global North as the formative impetus for a new politics of “security” as well as its discontents. Focused on the regulation and surveillance of Black bodies in the Tivoli Gardens neighborhood of Kingston, Jamaica, Deborah Thomas probes the project of security in a context where police violence and extrajudicial killings are not typically seen as part of the global phenomenon of anti-Black racism. We learn about the Jamaican Diaspora Crime Intervention and Prevention Task Force (JDCIPT), which brings the expertise of Jamaicans living in the diaspora to bear on security issues within Jamaica. What sense can we make of these diasporic actors’ own imbrication in the protection of whiteness, class hierarchy, and heteropatriarchy? Thomas illustrates how postcolonial sovereignty is as much the product of diasporic practices as it is the product of the seemingly bounded political formation we continue to call the “state.” The role of this diasporic foundation in shaping practices related to security in Jamaica complicates our understanding of the imperial circuits through which militarized approaches to “security” are taken up.
The essay by Samar Al-Bulushi approaches the war on terror not as one single apparatus of rule, but as a series of interrelated geopolitical projects. Against the Eurocentric, heteronormative paradigms that continue to structure analysis about post-9/11 global warfare, Al-Bulushi pushes us to decenter the view from the imperial war room, illustrated most poignantly in the 2016 thriller Eye in the Sky. Emphasizing the mutually constitutive relationship between Black spatial knowledge and geographies of domination,34 her essay takes seriously the African subjects who co-constitute geographies of war making in East Africa today, from the political and business elite who normalize militarized masculinities and femininities, to the African troops whose affective and violent labor sustains war making in Somalia.
The essay by Grewal, Kaur, and Sabherwal insists on the continued relevance of histories of colonial militarism, postcolonial counterinsurgency and securitization, and traces how these sediment, surfacing in affective and material ways to radically alter both the state and minority populations. Focusing on the Indian state's counterinsurgent practices in Punjab in the 1980s and 1990s, much before the US-led global war on terror, the essay illustrates how Sikh masculinities change from the colonial to the postcolonial period in response to the anxieties of postcolonial territorial uncertainty. They argue that “security from the South” must also engage with the violent aftermath of colonial partitioning—the divisions of nation-states created by colonial rule, and the subjects formed by older and newer forms of power. The authors approach the targeting of Sikhs as part of the process of postcolonial nation making through militarism and security of border regions that alters its patriarchies. The essay traces continuities of masculine power from the colonial to the postcolonial period that are in dialogue with broader geopolitical dynamics and across different scales. The postcolonial state's engagement with the US-led global war on terror has reanimated narratives about Sikh insurgents as “terrorists.” The emergence of new securitized patriarchies in South Asia can neither be reduced to, nor entirely divorced from the geopolitics of this global war.
The second set of essays (Ghosh; Razavi) explore the significance of affect for regimes of security. While scholars have written extensively about the politics of fear, these authors turn our attention to other affective realms. For Ghosh, the cultivation and management of emotion—specifically, the discursive construction of the notion of a “friendly” border—is central to the security project. Razavi draws our attention to diasporic security experts in Washington, DC, who draw on multiple affective registers to influence the range of stakeholders that make up the US security establishment, from powerful Middle Eastern governments to different segments of their own diasporic communities to various factions within the white imperial security community. The essay points to the ways that difference—racial, diasporic—operates within the security state and constitute the empire's racial, religious imaginaries.
Sahana Ghosh takes us to South Asia and the politics of legibility and protest in relation to the affective economies of national security. She turns our attention to a clash between residents of India's eastern borderlands and the national Border Security Forces along the “friendly” India-Bangladesh border to analyze the soft violence of security regimes and the disruptions to them. Ghosh argues that the Indian state relies on heteropatriarchal gender norms and the discourse of family to produce unequal, minority citizens and secure their subordinated inclusion. Reading the illegible political potency of humiliation otherwise, the essay tracks the fate of cracks and fissures in the affective economy of “friendliness” of this border security regime and shows how the intersection of gender and religious identity is foundational to its continuing coherence, power, and endurance.
Razavi's essay illustrates how the “South” as diasporic positionality operates in the proverbial heart of empire. She directs our attention to a small but growing number of security experts “from” the diasporic communities of the Middle East who engage in a multiplicity of affective practices as they navigate competing interests in Washington, DC, from the Arab and Israeli governments who fund US think tanks to US government officials, to their own familial and social networks back “home” in the Middle East as well as their diasporic communities in the United States. In doing so, she argues that these are ideal political actors through which to trace how geopolitical rivalries within the Middle East shape what is understood to be a homogenous and rational US security state, illustrating how the “Middle East” is imagined and operationalized within the security imaginary of Washington. Razavi's essay thus destabilizes dominant modes of geographic thought that simultaneously reify images of a seemingly coherent and unified US empire, and that conceive of “Washington, DC,” and the “Middle East” as discrete geographies.
It is time to think anew the universalism of security imperialism through the pluriversal lens of the Global South as a field of power, and as a space of difference produced through power. By attending to transnational histories and entanglements, this issue looks beyond conceptions of “security” that analytically limit dynamics of securitization either to a homogenizing influence, or to an imperial effect wherein technologies and ideas flow from North to South. Our commitment to contingency, fluidity, and multiplicity is accompanied by a commitment to solidarity across time and space. It is precisely by attending to intersecting forms of power that we can piece together the infrastructures that sustain projects of “security” on the one hand, and explore new modes of living on the other. These modes of living—in many cases, of simply getting by—raise new questions about care and safety in contexts of political uncertainty and precarity. A focus on the mundane, where everyday modes of survival are often productive of rupture and repair, seems just as important.
The authors would like to thank the Social Text collective, especially Jayna Brown, Tavia Nyong'o, and Marie Buck, for their engagement with and support of this special issue. We are grateful to the reviewers and to Madiha Tahir, Catherine Sameh, Laura Kang, and Deborah Thomas for their helpful feedback on early drafts of the introduction. We thank the Luce Foundation and Toby Volkmann for their support of the project that led to this special issue.
Notes
See I. Grewal, Saving the Security State; Stoler, “Colonial Toxicities”; Besteman, Militarized Global Apartheid. As Inderpal Grewal observes, “The US imperial state is different in scale and in the nature of its exceptionalism.” I. Grewal, Saving the Security State, 8.
We are inspired by the important feminist interventions on the politics of scale and interconnection in Massey, For Space; Mountz and Hyndman, “Feminist Approaches to the Global Intimate”; Smith, Intimate Geopolitics; Ali, Delusional States; Carby, Imperial Intimacies; Lowe, Intimacies of Four Continents.
For more on pluriversal epistemologies, see Ndlovu-Gatsheni, “Decoloniality as the Future”; Escobar, Pluriversal Politics.
Akarsu, “Citizen Forces”; I. Grewal, Saving the Security State; Ghertner, McFann, and Goldstein, Futureproof.
Gramsci was interested in Northern Italy's colonial relation to Southern Italy, while Du Bois was interested in Jim Crow–era segregation in the United States. Gramsci, Prison Notebooks; Du Bois, Black Reconstruction in America.
See, e.g., Lowe, Intimacies of Four Continents; Ho, Graves of Tarim.
See especially I. Grewal and Kaplan, “Global Identities.”
I. Grewal and Kaplan, “Transnational Feminist Practices”; Lorde, Sister/Outsider; Perera and Razack, At the Limits of Justice.
See Mountz “Where Asylum Seekers Wait”; Gonzalez, Securing Paradise; Schober, Base Encounters; I. Grewal, Saving the Security State; Loyd and Mountz, Boats, Borders, and Bases; Schrader, Badges without Borders.
Clarke and Thomas, Globalization and Race; Bacchetta, Maira, and Winant, “Global Raciality”; Molina and Ho Sang, introduction.
Donovan, Frowd, and Martin, “Introduction”; Parks and Kaplan, “Life in the Age of Drone Warfare”; Tahir, “Containment Zone”; Ghosh, “Everything Must Match.”
See, e.g., González, Gusterson, and Houtman, Militarization.
Ahmad, “Homeland Insecurities”; Z. Grewal, Islam Is a Foreign Country; Maira, Missing; Maira, 9/11 Generation; Puar and Rai, “Monster, Terrorist, Fag”; Rana, Terrifying Muslims.
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