Highlights the enduring significance of borders in the production of space and spatial knowledge. Particular emphasis is placed on the spatial relations that shape, order and police borders and their relationship to the politics of mobility and immobility. At stake here is a multi-scalar perspective that foregrounds the increasing securitization of migration management.
Foregrounds the constitutive role that various forms of cultural expression play in shaping the relationship between the social and the spatial. Provides a critical platform for investigating the nature of power, difference and oppression – how they are imagined and performed, opposed and subverted.
Writings that critically engage the ongoing conditions of coloniality and its effects. Entries in this section may also speculate on intellectual, political and organizational tactics that work to resist coloniality, colonization and colonialism’s effects in the present.
Investigates the spatial implications of the mass production, consumption, and disposal of digital media. Core areas of study include the environmental impacts, industrial landscapes, infrastructures, political transformations, social activities, and subjectivities particular to the digital age.
Explores the spatial implications of the creation, distribution, and use of material and symbolic resources. Focus is placed on the variable forms of value, and how embodied, environmental, institutional, and social differences mediate how value is geographically produced and circulated.
Examines the evolving social, ecological, cultural and geopolitical impacts of energy systems and resource extraction, with particular emphasis on the spatial relationships that structure the extraction, production, distribution and consumption of energy and other natural resources and raw materials
What is strikingly novel in Signs in the Dust are Lyons' efforts to articulate and ground attempts to overcome the nature-culture binary by way of theories of signs found in the writings of three medieval and early modern thinkers. The scholastic semiotics of these three figures provides Lyons with the metaphysical means to find even in the very dust a physio-semiosis, or genuine exchange of signs.
The majority of spaces of “activism” we see on campuses today are those produced by and for administrations, usually through student affairs divisions, in order to commodify and control dissent on campus. The shiny social justice activism sold by universities is marketed in student friendly packages in spaces that offer no real autonomy or control over programming for students.
Extensively researched, The Global Interior makes significant contributions to the growing body of scholarship that historicizes the relationship between natural resource sciences, empire, and nation building.
For decades, the west end of Calle Fortaleza has been a site for protest where social groups and movements, along with trade unions, have often converged to articulate their demands. The #Ricky Renuncia movement also re-signified the ways people protested and the spaces where those events took place. During the Summer 2019 uprising, the street was renamed by protesters as “Calle de la Resistencia” (Resistance Street) after thousands of people met there every night for more than two weeks demanding Rosselló’s resignation despite the violent efforts of police to disperse the protests. The street continued to display its new name long after he stepped down.
There are three identifiable understandings of corruption and anticorruption in the case of the Puerto Rican Summer: 1) colonial corruption and anticorruption policies implemented by the US government in PR; 2) corruption as a form of governmentality, and the Puerto Rican government’s anticorruption policies that focus on petty corruption, while ignoring the corruption of the powerful; 3) and decolonial approaches to corruption and/or the Puerto Rican Summer of 2019 as forms of decolonial justice.
Who constitutes the great racialized Puerto Rican family? What political role did Black women play in the protests of Summer 2019? How has Black feminism (re) emerged in Puerto Rico, from musical performances – bomba, plena, rumba and reggaeton – and platforms such as the NEGRAS radio program? What is the importance of the intersections of race and gender in the analysis of what happened in Summer 2019? These are some of the questions I try to answer in the next section of this brief intervention.
I discuss how the protests drew from well-established yet increasingly visible interventions by women and feminist organizations. However, I seek to track the contribution of the feminist movement more specifically, arguing that the protests built on tactics articulated, deployed, and circulated by La Colectiva Feminista en Construcción since 2016. I examine tactics that I argue contributed in important ways to the creation of a political terrain that made the July protests possible. Slogans, cacerolazos, shutting down streets and plazas, confrontations with the police and the Special Tactics Unit, as Shariana Ferrer-Núñez of La Colectiva points out, make reference to a long tradition of opposition in the territory. These also make reference to a tradition of opposition elsewhere, especially in Latin America and the Caribbean. Yet in post-María Puerto Rico, La Colectiva’s consistent and unrelenting denunciation of the specific ways debt aterizza, or “lands,” on women through an explicit confrontation with the state gains distinct significance. La Colectiva’s actions make explicit the links between debt and gender violence; between a housing crisis, the operation of finance, and logics of expulsion that impact women disproportionally; between disaster capitalism and debt/austerity in the wake of María; between consumerism and poverty. Rather than emphasizing the creativity of the protests or the organizational capability gained through autogestión, then, I stress that the protests were a confrontation with the state/capital that held the state accountable.
In Puerto Rico, environmental resistance has historically been a vanguard terrain of struggle against extraction and degradation enabled by the local and federal governments (Lloréns and Stanchich 2019). Arguably, the struggle against AES-PR, which in 2016 led to months of protests and skirmishes with the police in Peñuelas, together with the 2017 botched response to Hurricane María, the continued disregard for the crisis of violence against women, and the leaked Telegram chat, all lay the groundwork that led to the 2019 summer uprising (LeBrón 2019; Bonilla 2019; Morales 2019).
Over the past two decades, environmental justice (EJ) movements have been amongst the most persistently and strongly mobilized groups in Puerto Rico. In this essay, I elaborate on how the many struggles that gave rise to this summer’s movement to oust Puerto Rican Governor Ricardo Rosselló can also be traced and understood through the histories of EJ struggles. I argue that such struggles have been key to opposing the colonial-capitalist condition and its corrupt death politics, while generating decolonizing life alternatives based on self-assembly and autogestion.
The “¿Qué hacemos con la deuda?” (What do we do with the debt?) panel was marked up with colorful messages overwhelmingly calling for an “Auditoría YA” (immediate debt audit), debt cancellation, and demands that “buitres” (vultures funds), “the corrupt,” and “those who robbed us” pay the public debt. Just as the summer protests emerged from an existing infrastructure of activism, the written calls to audit the debt were also the organic result of long-standing efforts demanding a comprehensive, citizen debt audit.
While the demonstrations leading to the ousting of Ricardo Rosselló’s can certainly teach us the necessity of popular protest in the United States, they also illuminate the global dimensions of Puerto Rican liberation: how the island has long been a source of inspiration and solidarity to international freedom movements.
This forum is about Puerto Ricans’ refusal to accept the violence of abstract space – the unwillingness to imagine a future from which they have been disappeared. While Rosselló and his administration paid millions to consultants, publicists, and lobbyists to represent space logically and homogenously to investors, many Puerto Ricans were left to fend for themselves receiving neither financial or technical aid from the government as they navigated the archipelago’s intersecting crises. Abandoned by the state, communities organized to restore their lives, build networks of solidarity, and reconstruct their communal spaces. Unintentionally, governmental neglect helped sow the seeds of a political culture that eventually grew to oust the governor and some of his accomplices from office. The contributors to this forum document the events that led to the two-weeks of protests that transformed Puerto Rico during the summer of 2019 as well as the political futures that mass mobilization forcefully placed in the realm of the concrete and the possible.
Since late 2019, waves of protests and uprisings have reverberated around the globe, with many still ongoing. In order to gain a better understanding of these movements, to assess the arrangements of power from which they emerge, and to build on their implications for future struggles, this forum collects perspectives from scholars and activists who place these uprisings within decolonial and anti-imperialist frameworks.
Originally developed in relation to the work of artists and architects (Rendell 2006, 2011, 2012; see also Liggett and Perry, 1995), critical spatial practice has since expanded to include discourse among designers, geographers, planners, landscape architects, activists, and philosophers.
The last five years have witnessed a veritable efflorescence of publications on the topic of volume. A seminal intervention that appears to have given the impetus for much of this “volumetric turn” was Stuart Elden’s 2013 paper, Secure the Volume, in which he argued for the necessity to rethink geography in terms of volumes rather than areas.
Human geography has been late to embrace Latinx geographies, partly due to the historical masculinist Anglophone traditions that took Westphalian nation-states as a basis for inquiry even as it sought to question them, and later due to the historical and continued Whiteness of geographers themselves.
The devastating impacts of Hurricanes Irma and Maria across the Caribbean (especially in Barbuda, Dominica, Puerto Rico, St Martin/St Maarten, and parts of the British and US Virgin Islands) are haunting harbingers of a world of climate disaster, halting recovery, and impossible futures.
We explore the implications of Lewis' argument that confronting unjust aspects of the surrogate industry requires not simple opposition to its technologies, but rather an abolition of the hetero-patriarchal private capitalist form in which surrogacy is embedded.
The critique of transpacific spaces is not merely an intellectual project, but one that is constituted by and constitutive of material politics and activism on the ground.
Based on ethnographic research in two orangutan rehabilitation centers in Malaysian Borneo, the book urges us to think about mutual but unequal vulnerability in the face of annihilation.
Black Food Geographies’ emphasis that food geographies are made, lived, and experienced shows that there is much more to be gained through food geographies research – expressly through the condition of Black communities.
The food system has been widely recognized as the source of many social and environmental problems but also as a catalyst for action. Critical scholars have demonstrated, the capitalist, industrial food system is doing exactly what it was designed to do – exploit labour and land to concentrate resources and power in the hands of corporations (Clapp, 2012; Holt-Giménez, 2017). Over the past few decades, there has been a rise of scholarship and activism that aspires to confront inequities in the food system and develop viable alternatives.
The book is focused on long-standing anticolonial struggles in territory that is, at least as the colonial powers-that-be understand it, in the western part of the province of Québec, about three hours’ drive north of the Canadian national capital in Ottawa, Ontario.