archive : s0metim3s

The pre-print of “Legal, Tender” (pdf) - written for Reartikulacija’s upcoming Law of Capital - Histories of Oppression symposium in Ljubljana (which unfortunately I won’t be at).

True Blood is hilarious. Not always, but the second last episode of Season 2, most definitely.

Rosalind C. Morris’ “Rush/Panic/Rush: Speculations on the Value of Life and Death in South Africa’s Age of AIDS” (Public Culture, 20:2):

[…] if we want to understand AIDS, we need to understand the apparent simultaneity of two discourses, one of panic and the other of accommodation through investment. I also suggest that an analysis of the representational economy of AIDS requires that we reconceive the relationship between panic and rush.

I keep bumping into literary references, or perhaps they bump into me. Sometimes more literally than literary and so more bumpy than I’d like, or the references are more acutely visceral than I’d prefer. At other times with surprise and delight, or simply as a prompt to overtly read what is sensed, is there.

My two remarks (and a half) at the Measure for Measure workshop:

One

The border is that place, or set of procedures, through which the distinction, but also the acquaintance, between value and use-value is arranged. In that sense, the border deliberates upon a kind of dialectic, the filtering of differences by indifference and abstraction, the imposition of measures of both what is useful – as in what particular kinds of skilled labour, and the very definition of skill, that may be useful to any given national economy – and what is different (or indifferent) in an innovatory sense. In this regard, the border is a filter. And, as with the categories of value, the encounter at the border here is an encounter of terms that that are internal to capital.

Here’s the text of a talk - “Ordinary poverty and sores” - given by Elizabeth Povinelli at Charles Darwin University’s workshop “Indigenous policy reform in the NT: An extraordinary debate for extraordinary times”, on 20 July 2007.

Why are these exceptional times? Why is time exceptional now? What is exceptional about it? I have been living down at Channel Point, a place called Balgal, with a group of Aboriginal men, women and children who were driven out of their homes at Belyuen by other men, women, and children – their families to be sure, but wielding axes, chainsaws, pickets, and rocks. They ransacked their houses, stole their goods, and chased them into the scrub. No one was charged. The police investigation seemed minimal at best. Without any foreseeable housing in Darwin, and not wishing to live as part of the urban radical poor, they were promised housing at Balgal. Months later they are still living in tents, hauling water, firewood, as non-Aboriginal people live in houses just kilometers away on Aboriginal land. Not lease land, but unalienable Aboriginal freehold. And the government continues to pressure them to return to Belyuen where they risk slow death. Why cost, of course. Because as much as we hear that these are extraordinary times, they are also ordinary times; the same time it’s always been for the radically poor and black. The bottom line is the bottom line: What kind of life is worth what kind of investment? The rain is coming, everyone knows; perhaps the rain will push these families back.

Following on from remarks on the frontier, and touching upon questions of the extraterritorialisation of borders, courtesy of Pom, some passages from Paul Silverstein’s “The New Barbarians: Piracy and Terrorism on the North African Frontier” (CR, 5:1, 2005):