mon 1 august

  1. iskra – illegal
  2. kohti tuhoa – kujanjuosku
  3. welkin dusk – welcome to the penitentiary
  4. dispossessed – black panther
  5. twat trap – human meat
  6. galhammer – crucifixion
  7. scumraid – killing without weapon
  8. snor – sny
  9. insonia – familia nao significa nada
  10. inverts – not the thing you think i am

plus speeches from warriors of the aboriginal resistance rally to shut down don dale and all youth jails and stop state violence towards first nations people especially children… to build communities not prisons and end the war against first nations people in australia…

 

listen

mon 4 july

  1. I’ve had enough – The Shivas
  2. Garra yarri Buunming – Sky has fallen – Dispossessed
  3. Throwing rocks in the sewer – Subtonix
  4. Gerger-Habits
  5. Lazy Girl- Macy Rodman
  6. i Really Like this Waterfall person
  7. Sinners – Mace
  8. Girls like me – Nikki and the Corvettes
  9. Hollow Girl – We’ve got a fuzzboxx and we’re gonna use it
  10. Mneumonic Hexes Demonic exes- Hextape
  11. Slave- Circle pit
  12. Red cars- Kt spit
  13. Head – Leatherdaddy
  14. Deep water – Strawberry switchblade
  15. I don’t like it – Pauline Pantsdown
  16. Little Bugs – Kt Spit

feat discussion with kt spit about label die pop supporting diy music and community outside of the “diy punk” category, especially supporting womn, queers, non-binary people making music and performance…

listen

mon 20 june

motivation, lack of motivation… its not information that’s missing… power and reproduction of identities…

  1. murkrat – faceless
  2. especie fallida – perro
  3. disforme – LCP
  4. cruel machine – web of lies
  5. common enemy – 6th extinction
  6. flux of pink indians – progress
  7. garmonbozia – powerless in my faith
  8. gattaca – rekni ne
  9. grimalkin – nothing nice to say
  10. kiri – chatter in the skull
  11. kaliyuga – suicide
  12. MORA – sika VIP
  13. mind of asian – no rain, no rainbow
  14. tank grrl – 70 kilo nepal

 

listen

 

Bordering on Contempt

<h1>Bordering on contempt: Operation Fortitude and the right to exclude</h1>

<span><a href=”http://theconversation.com/profiles/patrick-stokes-10346″>Patrick Stokes</a>, <em><a href=”http://theconversation.com/institutions/deakin-university”>Deakin University</a></em></span>

<p>One detail you might have missed in the recent uproar over the <a href=”https://www.border.gov.au/australian-border-force-abf”>Australian Border Force</a>’s involvement in “<a href=”https://theconversation.com/the-border-is-everywhere-the-policy-overreach-behind-operation-fortitude-46860″>Operation Fortitude</a>” was the ABF’s understanding of <a href=”https://www.border.gov.au/australian-border-force-abf/protecting”>what a border is</a>:</p>

<blockquote><p>We consider the border not to be a purely physical barrier separating national states, but a complex continuum stretching offshore and onshore, including the overseas, maritime, physical border and domestic dimensions of the border.</p></blockquote>

<p>That language set ABF up for obvious lines of parody (“the border is just a state of mind, <em>maaan</em>…”) and the inevitable “It’s the vibe of the thing” memes. It all sounded a bit too, well, <em>philosophical</em> for a government department, let alone a <a href=”http://www.theage.com.au/comment/putting-the-muscle-into-border-enforcement-20150831-gjbxaj.html”>newly-uniformed and armed</a> organisation.</p>

<p>It’s certainly an unfamiliar thing when governments start to sound like philosophers, though there is precedent. In the middle of last decade, for instance, the Israeli Defence Force <a href=”http://www.frieze.com/issue/article/the_art_of_war/”>experimented with</a> strategies based on Critical Theory and twentieth century French philosophy, particularly the work of Deleuze. It wasn’t a success, <a href=”http://carl.army.mil/download/csipubs/matthewsOP26.pdf”>reportedly because</a> “Not every officer in the IDF had the time or the inclination to study postmodern French philosophy.”</p>

<h2>Imaginary lines and real lives</h2>

<p>But waxing philosophical about borders is a perfectly reasonable thing to do, for borders, in the literal sense, are inherently abstract. They are the legal and cartographic expression of historical, cultural, and political contingencies. Not surprisingly, imposing these abstractions on the physical world sometimes leads to absurdity.</p>

<p>For instance, as a result of a complex set of Medieval treaties and land purchases, the Dutch municipality of <a href=”http://ontology.buffalo.edu/smith/baarle.htm”>Baarle-Nassau</a&gt; contains a patchwork of Belgian enclaves (Baarle-Hertog), some of which themselves contain parcels of Dutch territory, nested like Russian dolls. There are cafes that straddle the border; at one time, when Dutch law imposed early closing time on restaurants, patrons sitting in the Netherlands would simply get up and move to a table on the Belgian side of the room.</p>

<p>Elsewhere, an interminable dispute between Egypt and Sudan over which of two century-old borders is the right one means that <a href=”http://www.atlasobscura.com/places/bir-tawil-1″>Bir Tawil</a>, an uninhabited 2,060 km2 patch of desert, is unclaimed by any nation: Egypt insists it’s part of Sudan, and Sudan insists it’s part of Egypt.</p>

<p>And for every such piece of quaint geopolitical trivia, there are uncountable tragedies connected with or occasioned by borders: tragedies of separation, of deprivation, of conflict, of death. We <em>should</em> be thinking hard about borders. They may be abstractions but their impact is desperately real.</p>

<h2>Sovereignty and control</h2>

<p>In December of 2014, the newly appointed Secretary of the Department of Immigration and Border Protection, Mike Pezzullo, gave a speech on <a href=”https://www.border.gov.au/newsandmedia/Documents/sovereignty-age-interdependency-04122014.pdf”>“Sovereignty in an Age of Interdependency”</a> in which he attempted to do just that sort of thinking. It’s <a href=”https://theconversation.com/tracing-the-far-reaching-changes-in-immigration-and-border-protection-36427″>a significant speech with far-reaching implications</a>, one that both puts his department’s conceptualisation of borders into context, and unwittingly exposes the very conceptual problems at the heart of how we think about migration.</p>

<p>Pezzullo declared that while the mission of DIBP’s predecessor institutions going back to 1945 had been one of nation-building, now it was one of negotiating the tension between the openness required by globalization and the post-Westphalian state’s “ancient coding as a vehicle for territoriality and exclusion”:</p>

<blockquote><p>I see them [borders] as mediating between the imperatives of the global order, with its bias towards the flow of people, goods, capital, data and knowledge, and the inherent territoriality and capacity for exclusion which comes with state sovereignty.</p></blockquote>

<p>In the simplest of terms, modern states demand the right to determine how they will live within their own boundaries, but also seek the benefits of open movement of goods and people and of a rule-governed international order. The tension here is that we claim the right to make rules for ourselves while living in a broader environment that requires us to subject ourselves to external rules if we are gain certain benefits.</p>

<p>In that context, ABF’s “complex continuum” model of the border makes more sense. But it also draws our attention to what that border really amounts to.</p>

<h2>Our gift (not) to give?</h2>

<p>The language of ‘border protection’ is useful for governments, as it conjures
up images of patrolling a physical frontier, of keeping a walled populace safe from a hostile world without. That we’re now being told this wall is in fact a “continuum” that exists all the way to Flinders Street (even if Fortitude is what the ABF regards as a “behind the border” operation) gives the lie to this imagery. Entitlements to remain in a country aren’t created by borders, but the other way around: borders exist <em>because of</em> such entitlements. They are functions of a right that states claim for themselves, a right that Pezzullo sums up as being “able to determine who and what has the right, or gift, of entry or exit, and under what conditions.”</p>

<p>As <a href=”https://theconversation.com/drowning-mercy-why-we-fear-the-boats-16394″>I’ve argued</a> here before, part of what makes the problem of asylum seekers so disturbing for us in the developed world is that these people’s very existence calls into question our assumed entitlement to live where we do, as we do. What moral rights does the mere accident of birth bestow upon us? Why should I be rich and safe and the other debased and imperilled? How do we derive rights of territorial exclusion from such sheer contingency?</p>

<p>The more fundamental question raised by this concept of the border is not how to balance sovereignty against the demands of global commerce; the question is what entitles us to make – or withhold – a gift of something we haven’t ourselves earned.</p>

<h2>Community and contingency</h2>

<p>You might reply that rights of abode derive from certain forms of connectedness to the community. The taunt of “I grew here, you flew here” is meant to convey that the speaker has the relevant kind of connections, and so an entitlement to be here, while the ‘newcomer’ does not. But simply being born here doesn’t automatically mean you’re connected to the community, while as the current case of <a href=”http://www.abc.net.au/news/2015-08-08/mojgan-shamsalipoor-rally-against-removal-brisbane-student/6682842″>Mojgan Shamsalipoor</a> attests, connection to the community is no protection against the threat of deportation either.</p>

<p>Even if we could establish such a right on the basis of concrete connections, we’d still be left with the more fundamental challenge of whether we have a right to insist on ‘sovereignty’ ahead of our duty of concern for the other.  In his speech, Pezzullo speaks of border protection as giving governments the “space” to be “compassionate” towards asylum seekers – phrasing that suggests compassion is somehow one policy option among others rather than a standing moral demand.</p>

<p>He points out that the sheer scale of the global refugee population means no one nation or even group of nations can take on the whole burden themselves. Yet nations already do take on that burden – asylum seekers physically have to be somewhere, after all – so what this really means is that <em>developed</em> nations cannot <em>comfortably</em> take on such burdens. But why simply assume we have a right to be comfortable? What grounds such a right? And just what flows from it?</p>

<h2>Confronting our assumptions</h2>

<p>If our current policy settings are to be believed, almost anything is licensed by our ‘right’ of exclusion, up to and including offshore detention in conditions so horrific it is clearly meant to be a cruel deterrent to anyone who would dare challenge us, not a bureaucratic mechanism for the orderly flow of people across borders.</p>

<p>The spectre of uniformed quasi-police checking papers in the middle of Melbourne rightly disturbed enough of us that it caused an immediate backlash. And while Australia continues to pull its hair out over relatively tiny numbers of “irregular” arrivals, Europe <a href=”http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-24583286″>continues to experience appalling tragedies</a> as it <a href=”http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-34108224″>struggles to deal</a> with incoming refugees and migrants.</p>

<p>Both these events confront us with what – if anything – underpins our claimed  right of exclusion, even in the face of suffering and death. We should indeed be thinking about borders. We just might not like where that thinking takes us.</p>

<img alt=”The Conversation” height=”1″ src=”https://counter.theconversation.edu.au/content/46926/count.gif&#8221; width=”1″ />

<p><span><a href=”http://theconversation.com/profiles/patrick-stokes-10346″>Patrick Stokes</a>, Senior Lecturer in Philosophy, <em><a href=”http://theconversation.com/institutions/deakin-university”>Deakin University</a></em></span></p>

<p>This article was originally published on <a href=”http://theconversation.com”>The Conversation</a>. Read the <a href=”https://theconversation.com/bordering-on-contempt-operation-fortitude-and-the-right-to-exclude-46926″>original article</a>.</p>

Comment: Changing the date won’t fix ‘Australia Day’

  • Hundreds of protesters marching against the celebration of Australia day and for indigenous rights broke through a barrier to interrupt the official Australia Day parade in Melbourne on January 26, 2015. (New Zulu)
Celeste Liddle: Until a treaty is negotiated, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people will keep mourning in the country of the ‘fair go’.
Celeste Liddle

When I was a student at university doing my undergraduate degree, I worked in retail to support myself. While the job itself was perfect for a uni student trying to work shifts around classes and coursework, every single year when November rolled around, I would start to dread going into work. With the Christmas panic shoppers and the endless carols about snow being played over the sound system when it was 35 degrees outside, every shift brought a new kind of hell. Even now, the scars of working in retail during a Christmas lead-up run so deep that I am known to avoid all shopping centres, supermarkets and chain stores for the duration.

Back then though, it was safe for me to venture out in public and finally grab some groceries come January. Yet as the years rolled on, January started to become a no-go zone for these places as well. You see, back when I left retail in 2002, Australia Day was barely a blip on the national calendar. Certainly, the only thing I associated it with were protests in the Aboriginal community. Just last year, I was incredibly pleased to see Invasion Day protesters in Melbourne interrupting the government-sanctioned Australia Day parade. Yet compared to 14 years ago, you can’t now walk into a supermarket without being confronted by a range of products emblazoned with the Australian flag. You cannot turn on the TV without some bloke barking at you to buy lamb. You cannot go to beach without seeing a group of flag caped-crusaders drinking beer.

Protesters from the far right anti-Islam group Reclaim Australia rally in Brisbane, Sunday, Nov. 22, 2015. It is part of a national day of anti-Islam protests being held across the country. (AAP Image/Dan Peled) NO ARCHIVING

Protesters from the far right anti-Islam group Reclaim Australia rally in Brisbane, Sunday, Nov. 22, 2015.

This reinforcement of Australia Day as a day of jingoistic pride was, in my view, a product of the Howard years. In his time as Prime Minister, John Howard would frequently reiterate need to show pride in this country while labelling the attempts by Indigenous activists and historians to bring the true nature of colonisation to the public’s attention as being “black armband” views – just focussed on negatives.

It is additionally a hangover from an event nobody in this country should be proud of: the Cronulla Riots.

White Australians donned flags as well as slogans like “we grew here, you flew here” in a show of hostility against Middle Eastern migrant communities. That the reinforcement of “pride” has become a national norm ten years after these riots is incredibly disturbing. That groups such as Reclaim Australia and the United Patriots’ Front are now deemed so acceptable by our country that they are framed as “ordinary mums and dads” is, frankly, terrifying.

As an Arrernte woman though, I’ve digressed. To return to an earlier point, Australia Day has always been Invasion Day to me. It was the day where, as a kid growing up in Canberra, I was most likely to see people calling for land rights.

Indeed, back then the entire concept of “Australia Day” seemed to be on the nose.

The Aboriginal rights movement and talks of a treaty continued to gain momentum and we were mere years away from the Mabo ruling. That Terra Nullius, or ‘land belonging to no one’ was it was declared back in 1770 by the Captain Cook, was found to be a legal fiction in the High Court in 1993 but we still don’t have a treaty should be a national shame. Yet this remains unfinished business and every year, on the 26th of January, Indigenous people are expected to buy into the celebration of this fallacy without complaint.

As a person who takes a strong stance in favour of the negotiation of a treaty, I therefore tend to not be too supportive of the calls of many Aboriginal people and our allies to change the date of Australia Day so it doesn’t commemorate the invasion. In my reckoning, until there is a treaty there will be no other date to celebrate the birth of this nation on. And to be honest, I’ve never really understood why non-Indigenous Australia wouldn’t want the opportunity to start afresh. The 26th of January also commemorates the day some of the poorest and most desperate citizens of Great Britain were dumped on the shore of a land halfway across the world to undertake years of cruel labour as punishment for stealing loaves of bread. The opportunity to commemorate the day we come to the table, as equals, and negotiate the way this country moves forward, would indeed make me proud of this country and our ability to work toward a better future. Until then, I much prefer the idea of Invasion Day remaining a day of Indigenous protest and the assertion of sovereignty.

The answer is also not for white Australia to include more Aboriginal people in Australia Day events. It’s not to get more Aboriginal people to sing the National Anthem in public. It’s not to include a welcome to country ceremony before ignoring what this ceremony means. It’s not to misappropriate our iconography as a way of selling your meat. Doing all this merely erases our history and assimilates our identity.

The answer is for people to engage with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people and find out why so many of us do not consider this a day of celebration.

It’s to come to our events on our terms – lend yourself and your banner-making skills to an Invasion Day protest; see our bands; talk to our elders. Mostly though, it’s to challenge yourself to stop reiterating the mistruths this country was built upon and commit to a better and more equitable future.

I have always been optimistic that in a country which prides itself on the notion of a “fair go for all”, all that I mention is not an impossible dream. I think we owe it to the future generations. But until some hard conversations are held and people start listening, it will unfortunately remain something I am unlikely to witness in my lifetime. And that truly is a reason to mourn.

Celeste Liddle is an Arrernte woman living in Melbourne. She is the current National Indigenous Organiser for the National Tertiary Education Union (NTEU) and blogs at Rantings of an Aboriginal Feminist.