Afro-Nordic Landscapes: Equality and Race in Northern Europe 2013046249, 9780415897433, 9781315774718

Citation preview

“This is a timely and important book. It should be studied with care and profit inside the Nordic countries and also outside them by the broader international readership that has been established around the study of racism and ‘critical race theory’. For the Nordic world, this collective, polyvocal enterprise presents a unique opportunity. It can help to break the disabling patterns of denial, delusion and defensiveness produced by the problems which racism has created in societies that strongly resent the suggestion that they could ever have been tainted by anything so foul. That reaction—which reveals that those who give voice to it do not know what racism looks like—is itself a symptom.” —Paul Gilroy, Professor of American and English Literature at King’s College London, author of The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness and Darker Than Blue: On the Moral Economies of Black Atlantic Culture “Sophisticated, sharp, powerful anti-racism critique, breaking longstanding myths about Nordic countries. A fascinating blend of art, autobiography, scholarship and politics offers a wealth of lenses, tools and voices to access the experience of Afro-Nordic people. This timely cross-Nordic volume is a fi rst in its kind, a useful educational source for everyone who wants to learn about race, racism and its denial in the Nordic countries.” —Philomena Essed, Professor of Critical Race, Gender and Leadership Studies at Antioch University, author of Clones, Fakes and Posthumans: Cultures of Replication and Understanding Everyday Racism: An Interdisciplinary Theory “Michael McEachrane and the contributors to Afro-Nordic Landscapes provide a rare gift: an elegant, incisive analysis of ‘invisible’ racism in and beyond Northern Europe. Through scholarship, commentary, and interviews, writers and artists decode violence and violation, making visible the resistance that frames dignity and rights. Afro-Nordic Landscapes shrinks a large world of racist-sexist denial by expanding a much smaller world of anti-racist intellectualism, one now infused with new perspectives.” —Joy James, F.C. Oakley 3rd Century Professor of Humanities and Professor in Political Science at Williams College, author of Seeking the Beloved Community: A Feminist Race Reader and Shadowboxing: Representations of Black Feminist Politics “The brave Afro-Nordic voices collected in this book challenge the comforting ‘exceptionalist’ myths white Scandinavians continue to tell themselves about their supposed radical difference from the other European countries’ past (and present) of white supremacy and anti-black racism. With uncompromising honesty, the book reveals the unwelcome truths behind Scandinavian white lies and collective self-delusions, in the process bringing

to our political awareness a region of the international black diaspora too long neglected in the literature.” —Charles W. Mills, John Evans Professor of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy at Northwestern University, author of The Racial Contract and Blackness Visible: Essays on Philosophy and Race “McEachrane’s book deconstructs the mythology that Nordic countries are race-neutral, and less capricious to the African Diaspora. What emerges is a region in racial tumult, perhaps less visible to the outside, but still tortured by identity. W.E.B Dubois would recognize this problem today as he did a century ago.” —Makau W. Mutua, SUNY Distinguished Professor, Dean of the State, University of New York Buffalo Law School, author of Human Rights: A Political and Cultural Critique

Afro-Nordic Landscapes

Afro-Nordic Landscapes: Equality and Race in Northern Europe challenges a view of Nordic societies as homogenously white, and as human rights champions that are so progressive that even the concept of race is deemed irrelevant to their societies. The book places African Diasporas, race and legacies of imperialism squarely in a Nordic context. How has a nation as peripheral as Iceland been shaped by an identity of being white? How do Black Norwegians challenge racially conscribed views of Norwegian nationhood? What does the history of jazz in Denmark say about the relation between its national identity and race? What is it like to be a mixed-race black Swedish woman? How have African Diasporans in Finland navigated issues of race and belonging? And what does the widespread denial of everyday racism in Nordic societies mean to Afro-Nordics? This text is a must read for anyone interested in issues of race in the Nordic region and Europe writ large. As Paul Gilroy writes in his foreword, it is a book that “should be studied with care and profit inside the Nordic countries and also outside them by the broader international readership that has been established around the study of racism and ‘critical race theory’.” Michael McEachrane is an independent scholar.

Routledge Studies on African and Black Diaspora S ERIES EDITORS : FASSIL D EMISSIE , DePaul University; Sandra Jackson, DePaul University; and Abebe Zegeye, University of South Africa

1 Sex and Race in the Black Atlantic Mulatto Devils and Multiracial Messiahs Daniel McNeil 2 Representing the Black Female Subject in Western Art Charmaine A. Nelson 3 Geographies of the Haitian Diaspora Edited by Regine O. Jackson 4 Critical Perspectives on AfroLatin American Literature Edited by Antonio D. Tillis 5 Afro-Nordic Landscapes Equality and Race in Northern Europe Edited by Michael McEachrane

Afro-Nordic Landscapes Equality and Race in Northern Europe Edited by Michael McEachrane Foreword by Paul Gilroy

36p 叩noy dnojQ siDUBJj 15 jo |入e丄

JJ S S

N0QN01 >mO人 M3N

NEW YORK

LONDON

First published 2014 by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2014 Taylor & Francis The right of Michael McEachrane to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Afro-Nordic landscapes : equality and race in Northern Europe / edited by Michael McEachrane. pages cm. — (Routledge studies on African and Black diaspora ; 5) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Africans—Scandinavia—Social conditions. 2. Scandinavia— Ethnic relations. 3. Africans—Europe, Northern—Social conditions. 4. Europe, Northern—Ethnic relations. I. McEachrane, Michael. DL42.A45A45 2014 305.896ꞌ048—dc23 2013046249 ISBN13: 978-0-415-89743-3 (hbk) ISBN13: 978-1-315-77471-8 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by IBT Global.

To my brother Sonny, to Afro-Nordics of all stripes, and to everyone who cares deeply about equality

This page intentionally left blank

Contents

Foreword

xi

PAUL GILROY

Acknowledgments Introduction

xix 1

MICHAEL MCEACHRANE

PART I The Nation 1

Imagining Blackness at the Margins: Race and Difference in Iceland

17

KRISTÍN LOFTSDÓTTIR

2

Queendom: On Being Black, Feminist Norwegian Women

39

MADELEINE KENNEDY-MACFOY

3

The Midnight Sun Never Sets: An Email Conversation About Jazz, Race and National Identity in Denmark, Norway and Sweden 57 CECIL BROWN, ANNE DVINGE, PETTER FROST FADNES, JOHAN FORNÄS, OLE IZARD HØYER, MARILYN MAZUR, MICHAEL MCEACHRANE AND JOHN TCHICAI

PART II Racism 4

There’s a White Elephant in the Room: Equality and Race in (Northern) Europe MICHAEL MCEACHRANE

87

x

Contents

5

Racism Is No Joke: A Swedish Minister and a Hottentot Venus Cake—An Email Conversation

120

BETH MAINA AHLBERG, CLAUDETTE CARR, MADUBUKO DIAKITÉ, FATIMA EL-TAYEB, TOBIAS HÜBINETTE, MOMODOU JALLOW, VICTORIA KAWESA, MICHAEL MCEACHRANE, UTZ MCKNIGHT, ANDERS NEERGAARD, SHAILJA PATEL, KITIMBWA SABUNI AND MINNA SALAMI

6

Searching for Words: Becoming Mixed Race, Black and Swedish

149

ANNA ADENIJI

7

Bertrand Besigye’s Civilization Critique: An Aesthetics of Blackness in Norway

162

HELENA KARLSSON

8

Two Poems by Bertrand Besigye

178

BERTRAND BESIGYE

PART III Diaspora 9

Talking Back: Voices from the African Diaspora in Finland

187

ANNA RASTAS

10 Den Sorte: Nella Larsen and Denmark

208

MARTYN BONE

11 A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe—An Email Conversation

227

ABDALLA DUH, MOHAMED HUSEIN GAAS, ABDALLA GASIMELSEED, AMEL GORANI, NAUJA KLEIST, ANNE KUBAI, MICHAEL MCEACHRANE, SAIFALYAZAL OMAR, TSEGAYE TEGENU AND MARJA TIILIKAINEN

Contributors Index

251 259

Foreword

This is a timely and important book. It should be studied with care and profit inside the Nordic countries and also outside them by the broader international readership that has been established around the study of racism and “critical race theory”. For the Nordic world, this collective, polyvocal enterprise presents a unique opportunity. It can help to break the disabling patterns of denial, delusion and defensiveness produced by the problems which racism has created in societies that strongly resent the suggestion that they could ever have been tainted by anything so foul. That reaction—which reveals that those who give voice to it do not know what racism looks like—is itself a symptom. In order to interpret it, we should remember that these are societies which have had to adjust to the history and memory of conflict around race that was evident in the period of the Third Reich. The complexity of that uncomfortable legacy remains unresolved in today’s attempts to construct a multicultural settlement even as the politics of ultra-nationalism, antisemitism and fascism has moved into a new phase for which the disturbing example of Anders Behring Breivik provides the most important illustration. The line of argument essayed by the contributors to this volume means that the Nordic world’s past colonial adventures need no longer remain hidden and the embarrassing profit taken from wars waged by others does not need, any longer, to be ignored. Here is a wonderful chance to be liberated from the myths of Nordic exceptionalism and ethnic homogeneity as well as the mistaken proposition that racism not only originates elsewhere but belongs there too. To the culture of ignorance that has engulfed Europe’s imperial past, we must add the impact of what can only be called a patterned amnesia. There is an active forgetting about the colonial history of the Nordic countries. Forms of denial are at work and denial, as the sociologist Stan Cohen has pointed out, is a social and political force as well as a psychological one which we don’t pay enough attention to. It is not just that a deeper, more serious approach to democracy is waiting to be released by the undoing of racial divisions and the struggle to accommodate a self-consciously post-colonial sense of Nordic polities and cultures. It is also that, as the electoral successes of nationalist and

xii Foreword xenophobic parties in several Nordic countries has recently demonstrated, the toxic effects of disavowed racial hierarchy and inequality have now become a significant political issue in their own right which is somewhat separate either from the question of racial inequality or from everyday conflict between different ethnic groups. Swedish military forces battle Somali pirates off the African coast. Danish soldiers fall in Afghanistan in disproportionate numbers. Finns, Swedes, Norwegians and Icelanders participate in ISAF. Military and development activities converge. One person’s peace building programme is another person’s counterinsurgency campaign. Regardless of how those contributions are assessed, in this context, hatred of racialised immigrants—often people displaced by the same distant confl icts—can easily combine with the assumption of cultural and ethnic hierarchy to complicate questions of national identity and obstruct the fulfi llment of a social model to which the whole world may once again need to turn for inspiration in its pursuit of peace rather than endless war. If the kind of thoughtful, antiracist criticism patiently set out below could only be heard, it might also be possible to challenge the prominence of the Nordic countries in theories advanced by commentators who see those states as proof of the unique value that homogeneity can endow in social life and as evidence that solidarity and diversity are impossible to reconcile. All discussion of multiculture and multiculturalism will be enriched as a result of those changes. Reconstructing the history and political culture of the Nordic countries along these worldly lines means initially that they become recognisable as nations that were mired in Europe’s colonial projects, in the transatlantic slave trade, in the acquisition of Caribbean possessions and in the conquest and formal subordination of Greenland as well as the domination of indigenous peoples who have sometimes tried to assert the right not to be governed by what they regard as external agents. Consideration of the AfroNordic situation opens portals on to all of these areas. Asking people to appreciate the great depth to which the political ontology of race has been inscribed in the scientific, scholarly and cultural achievements of the Nordic world will often involve working against the grain of social democratic habits. That request is likely to generate shock, hostility, disbelief and even disorientation. However, the change of perspective it can foster is an important part of the wider struggle to strengthen Europe through the recovery of its bloody, colonial histories. Without access to that shocking past, without the removal of the cultural and psychological screens that block contemporary consideration of its horrors, Europe has no chance to comprehend its present circumstances or to plan for a democratic future in which the creation and reproduction of what we might call a habitable multiculturalism is absolutely critical. Thus, the placing of the Nordic countries in relation to race and racism and pursuit of an analysis of race and racism in the Nordic countries can open up the most difficult of contemporary questions: how, for example,

Foreword

xiii

does providing refugees with safety, hospitality and a new beginning as well as a pathway to citizenship, coexist with the most vicious, hateful varieties of ethnic absolutism? How do social democratic and liberal traditions generate and reproduce racial inequalities and exclusions? Where Lutheranism has given way to militant secularism, why are there so few ethical resources for antiracist movements to draw upon? The racial situation in the Nordic countries is distinctive for a number of other reasons. The debate seems still to be very much in the grip of what we in England used to call “the new racism”. This is a form of common-sense raciology—reflection and government—which accentuates questions of culture at the expense of questions of politics and refuses to accept that the goal of undoing racism is a proper object of governmental intervention. This formation was identified as a new type of racism because it was able plausibly to deny any connection to notions of biological hierarchy and because it was tightly articulated with nationalism and to patriotism as well as the forms of xenology and misoxeny that flowed from cultural specifications of national identity and were tacitly, inferentially or covertly racialised. We learned long ago that culturalist racism could be every bit as pernicious as the earlier, biologically grounded versions that traded in strict natural hierarchy. Culture has become even more important in what we’re now told is an era of inter-civilisational war. Indeed, that appeal to incorrigible culture makes all the difference. The divisions it marks out cannot be reconciled across the supposedly unbreachable frontiers of western civilisation. They are now usually marked by differences of faith and almost always signified by the body: by phenotype and “color”. In reality, those cultural lines are crossed regularly in what Edward Said called the “bewildering interdependence” of our time. Nordic Europe’s postcolonial cities now play host to social patterns in which culturally-different groups may dwell in close proximity but their racial, linguistic and religious particularities do not—as the logic of civilisationism suggests they must— add up to discontinuities of experience or insuperable problems of communication. There is always a degree of common experience. There is also shared fate on the bases of gender and generation, locality, taste, health and wealth. In those conditions, some degree of differentiation can be combined with a large measure of overlapping. There are institutional, demographic, educational, legal and political commonalities as well as elective variations that inter-cut the dimensions of difference and complicate the desire to possess or manage the cultural habits of others as a function of one’s own relationship with nationality, ethnicity and identity which is understood now not only as sameness but also as solidarity and subjectivity. As we learn from the discussions below and the national studies that follow them, the forms of mutuality and solidarity for which the Nordic corner of Europe is famed, have proved to be a major disappointment. The moral, legal and governmental challenges involved in the eradication of racism have not been systematically addressed, to say nothing of the political

xiv Foreword and governmental problems produced by populist ultranationalism and xenophobia. The result of these failures is not only deeply shameful but also entirely familiar to students of the politics of race and racism elsewhere in the world. One small example of this convergence can be drawn from the case of Eugene Ejike Obiora a 48 year-old Norwegian citizen of Nigerian heritage killed by Norwegian police in September 2006. By that time, Obiora had been resident in the country for some twenty years. He was fluent in Norwegian and had no criminal record. He died in police custody following contact with several officers in a social services office in Trondheim, Norway’s third-largest city. The knot of evasion, duplicity and disregard that seems to have enveloped the investigations into the circumstances of his tragic death which resulted from the way he was restrained by the officers who arrested him, has proved impossible to undo. Without accusing any of the policemen involved of being racist either in the ideological or organisationally affiliated senses of the word, it is not only extremely unlikely that a White Norwegian would have met their death in similar circumstances but also that the official investigations into the resulting tragedy would have proved so radically inconclusive. In this case, it is difficult to dismiss the impression of a culture of police impunity that was characterised also by hostility to the suggestion that foreigners, immigrants and outsiders can, in some cases, also fall within the circle of authentic citizenship and national belonging. So much then for the loudly-trumpeted ideal of universal human rights. Outside the immediate trauma and loss experienced by the Obiora family, Eugene’s killing will doubtless be seen as a regrettable but essentially small matter which has now presumably been obscured by the larger issues of violence, immigration and hospitality that remain pending in the horrible acts of mass murder carried out by Breivik as part of his 2011 assault on Norwegian multiculture. No doubt also, any attempt by distant outsiders [like myself] to connect the solitary death of one African Norwegian to Breivik’s grotesque crimes or even to the earlier murder of another black citizen, Benjamin Hermansen, at the hands of some of Oslo’s youthful neo-Nazis in 2001—an event that precipitated an enormous anti-fascist demonstration on the streets of the capital—will be met with hostility and incredulity that are not entirely disingenuous. However, joining those dots is exactly what the authors of this book are asking us to be prepared to do. We are obliged, they say, to be sceptical about the wilfully innocent selfconception broadcast by societies that pride themselves upon equality and tolerance without being inclined to take their own obvious shortcomings into account. Gramsci advised us long ago to turn our faces towards things as they actually are. Only then, can we begin to build a worthwhile analysis of the forms of racism that have grown from these particular conditions. Yet to name these multi-dimensional problems, fi rmly and singularly, as racism, carries some risks. Racism is certainly present in both its cultural and structural forms. They combine systemically to generate institutional

Foreword

xv

consequences that extend beyond the disposition, outlook or consciousness of individuals. However, amidst the transition from social democracy to neoliberal capitalism, racism seems a necessary but insufficient proper name even when supplemented by its sibling terms: nationalism, xenophobia, aryanism etc. In the Nordic world, the basic dynamics of racial inequality are complicated by the idea that when the critique of injustice or inequality is delivered, that unwelcome message can amplify the hostility that is directed at those who politely make critical observations. Anyone who draws critical attention to the effects of racism can perversely be held responsible for the things that they are complaining about. In other words, honest messengers effectively become more alien through their preparedness to communicate accusations that are necessarily uncomfortable and painful because of what they reveal about how the society operates. These societies generally do not appreciate disruption by incomers and outsiders nor do they reward their critics and dissidents. It bears repetition that they do not want to be made to confront disturbing, historical revelations or troubling aspects of their contemporary functioning. Additional dangers arise when, by being faithful to the rhetorical promise of equality, antiracist advocates open themselves to increased hostility by appearing insufficiently grateful or appreciative. Nordic racial politics is also distinctive because of the large amount of space it creates for the exotic. The hatred and discomfort that are routinely released by the unwanted presence of the racialised Other have often been braided together with a degree of attraction to the same figure as a transgressive, captivating, primitive and often, sexually-charged incarnation of difference. The violence of racial hatred that arises when alterity is fi xed and known in the lexicon of anthropological variations gets counterpointed by another layer of hostility. That antipathy takes shape in encounters with an otherness that is judged protean, mutable and plastic. What the sociologist Zygmunt Bauman calls “proteophobia” arises from contact with the “assimilated” others who—against all appearances and expectations speak the language perfectly and, by enjoying complete command of the cultural core of ethnic nationalism, can throw the identity of insiders into crisis. In those unhappy circumstances, the politics of recognition is supplemented by the politics of misrecognition. The history of European fascism contains many examples of this distinctive dynamic. In these pages we discover that the predicament of Afro-Nordics is compounded by the fact that their difference, their blackness, is often judged by those around them to be lacking when contrasted with the authentic versions of blackness sourced elsewhere. If they are “mixed” or adopted, they are especially likely to be denied the cultural capital associated with exotica which is discovered, above all, in the glamorous projections of racial Americana particularly in the fields of sport and popular music. As an ordinary phenomenon rather than either a superhuman or subhuman one, the

xvi

Foreword

Afro-Nordic presence becomes subject to unique pressures for which the disorientation and confusion of adoptees stands as the pre-eminent example. Here, we may turn to the disturbing case of Sweden’s celebrated black Nazi, Jackie Arklöv, for support. The combination of amnesia, ignorance, denial, guilt, and shame I have been describing constitutes a unique political field. This useful book builds a conceptual and interpretative vocabulary which will help to navigate it. It has a secondary significance as well. For the world beyond the Nordic countries, it has become vitally important to shift the terms within which arguments over the social, political and moral character of racial orders have been conducted. It is obvious that the United States remains the pre-eminent global producer and exporter of “racecraft” and the science, morality and economy that overdetermine it today, lubricating the machinery of corporate multiculturalism. However, it is no longer acceptable that people in other places should have to squeeze their experience into conceptual moulds supplied by north America’s particular histories of successful settler colonialism, immigration and racial segregation. Away from the Atlantic world, their analyses, lives and political priorities do not always conform to US outlines and their strategic responses are likely to diverge from the agenda set by the overdeveloped countries in the chapter of neoliberal capitalism known far and wide as the age of Obama. In the past, those US derived political habits and the varieties of race-talk associated with them, inspired social movements among the downpressed and marginalized in many other places. Their ideas of black beauty, black power and black feminism were influential as were important concepts like institutional racism. If the narcissistic scripts disseminated by identity-centred political movements proved to be a more dubious legacy, they nonetheless nourished the hopes and imaginations of remote populations, contributing to a distinct idea of human freedom outside the boundaries of any racial order. In the more generic forms that circulate today, US ideas of race and identity remain a tenacious part of the intellectual power of the country from which they originate. As such, they cannot in the future be expected to command the same reverence and appreciation that they did during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries when African American freedom struggles initiated a global conversation about the meaning of humanity which has been lost in the global storm of postcolonial consumer culture, civilisational war, securitocracy and neoimperialism. As the US ceases to be the centre of an increasingly global conversation about race and racism, the distinctive experiences found in the Nordic countries and enumerated in this book, can contribute something rich and compelling not only to discussion about Africa and Africans but also to debate about the undoing of racial orders and the need to repair the compromised, tacitly color coded democracy they afford us. I was thinking something like that as I wove my way carefully through the streets of Malmö after Sweden’s second wave of laserman shootings had

Foreword

xvii

disrupted the peace of that vibrant city in 2010. Once again, the sniper held responsible for those acts of terror may not have been directly affiliated to the belligerent xenophobia of the ultra-right, but nobody I met baulked at the proposition that this kind of violence was a manifestation of the populist political problems then distorting electoral politics on both sides of the bridge across the Øresund. Perhaps in a bleak situation that, apart from the efforts of Afro-Nordics and others, appears to be without hope, the omnipresence of immigrants, muslims, and other racial others in the globally-branded cultural products of “Nordic noir” police procedurals suggests a more positive outcome. At least in that utopian, popular-cultural space it seems important, creative voices have become committed to new ways of working through the troubled, evolving relationship between the Nordic countries and the rest of the world. Paul Gilroy

This page intentionally left blank

Acknowledgments

This book has been long in the making. Here are some people who I would like to thank for having been of help along the way. Professor Nick McBride for pulling some strings to bring me to the University of Massachusetts in Amherst 2008–2010. The W.E.B. DuBois Department of Afro-American Studies for hosting me during my stay there. The then Chair of the Department Professor Amilcar Shabazz for going out of his way to create a makeshift office for me at the Department despite lack of space. Professor John Bracey for expanding my horizon on black freedom struggles and African American history and to him and his wife Ingrid Bracey for their hospitality. My friend Professor Kym Morrison for coming up with the evocative title, “Afro-Nordic Landscapes”. My dear friend Dr. Jean Blaise for our many conversations on the politics of race. Professor Sara Lennox for her support and for organizing an inspiring UMass lecture series on Afro-European Studies AY 2008–2009, Black Europeans: Race and the New Europe. Thanks also to Professor Banu Subramaniam at UMass for having a look at the book proposal before it was sent off to Routledge. A seed for the anthology was planted in summer 2008 when I was asked to contribute to a Swedish anthology on being black in Sweden. This got me thinking about a similar book, but in English. Thanks to Victoria Kawesa for inviting me to Stockholm fall 2008 to have a meeting about such a book and to review a pioneering government report which she co-wrote on experiences of racism among Afro-Swedish youth. Thanks also to eminent activist Kitimbwa Sabuni and the National Association of Afro-Swedes for making the trip happen. The book proposal was accepted by Routledge in early spring 2010. Thanks to Professor Fassil Demissie (the book series editor of Routledge Studies on African and Black Diaspora), a generous reviewer and Max Novick at Routledge. I spent summer and fall 2010 in Cuernavaca, Mexico. I am grateful to Edith Roth Gjevjon, a sister of my friend and neighbor in Cuernavaca, Lisa Roth, for assisting a scholar without a library by scanning and emailing book chapters from Norway.

xx

Acknowledgments

Spring and summer 2011 I spent at the University of West Indies St Augustine in Trinidad. Thanks to the Dean of Humanities and Education, Funso Aiyejina, Dr. Paula Morgan and the Liberal Arts Department for hosting me. I am also grateful for the stimulating Wednesday evening offcampus meetings of the Philosophical Society of Trinidad and Tobago at Studio 66 in San Juan. In particular I am grateful to my family in T&T for how at home they me feel—especially to Wanda and Grace McEachrane during my trips to Calder Hall in Tobago and Elisa McEachrane for spoiling me in Trinidad. There are some people who have been helpful during my time here in Sweden. First of all I would like to thank my friend, human rights advocate Madubuko Diakité for his moral support and our many conversations at his office at the Raoul Wallenberg Institute and various cafés in Lund that made me think about aspects of human rights law which I would not have considered otherwise. Dr. Abdalla Gasimelseed helped me assemble the group for the email conversation and fi nal chapter on a horn of Africa in northern Europe. Victoria Kawesa pushed me to give more room for the voices of black women and black feminist concerns in the email conversation on the incident with the Hottentot Venus Cake and the Swedish Minister of Culture. Through her blog and our email conversations, Minna Salami aka Ms Afropolitan has given me ample opportunity to ponder intersectionality more deeply than I otherwise would have. Professor Utz McKnight and Paul Lappalainen kindly commented on my chapter and especially made me elaborate on its fi nal section. I am grateful to all the contributors to this book for putting up with round after round of comments and for enduring a long wait to print (for some since spring 2010 and for most since spring 2012). A special thanks to Professor Paul Gilroy for writing the foreword (the inspiration of his work can be found throughout this book). Thanks also to Professor Philomena Essed, Joy James, Charles Mills and Makau Mutua for their generous endorsements. Finally, I give gratitude to my father George “Gracious” McEachrane who, although no longer here, was a source of inspiration throughout this project. Thanks to my dear cousins Sandra, Neil and Marsh McEachrane as well as Isis Ament for their support and not least my mother Kerstin Alsund, her partner Lars-Åke Henningsson—who sadly passed away in 2012—and my brother Sonny McEachrane for theirs.

Introduction Michael McEachrane

I. This book is organized around three themes: the nation, racism and diaspora. The fi rst theme concerns the racial identities of Nordic nation-states. As Kristín Loftsdóttir shows in her essay even a nation as peripheral as Iceland has been shaped by an identity of being white European. Since the 19th century a self-understanding of being white in contrast to being black and African has been integral to Icelandic identity. Loftsdóttir juxtaposes this self-understanding with Icelandic images of Africans prior to the 19th century and points to continuities between then and now. She also points out that contemporary Icelanders tend to think of racism as external to their borders. Such observations are recurring in this book.1 A widespread self-conception of the Nordic countries is that they were mere bystanders to European colonialism and slavery and are largely unscathed by racial worldviews. Rather, their image is of being egalitarian human rights champions in solidarity with the world’s poor and downtrodden. Olof Palme—who became an international embodiment of this image as the Swedish Prime Minister during the 1970s and 80s—summed it up in a Christmas speech in 1965: “Democracy is fi rmly rooted in this country. We respect the fundamental freedoms and rights. Murky racial theories have never found a foothold here. We like to see ourselves as open-minded and tolerant.”2 Yet, the Nordic countries are not without a colonial history nor were they uninvolved in the transatlantic slave trade and they certainly have not been untouched by racial worldviews. For instance, Denmark colonized the three Caribbean islands of St Thomas, St Croix and St John for more than two hundred years until they were sold to the U.S. in 1916 and was the seventh largest slave-trading nation during colonial times (the U.S. being the sixth).3 Sweden introduced slavery to what is now Delaware in the U.S. as early as 1637. It participated in the transatlantic slave trade with ships, Chartered Companies, West African trading posts and forts. It was also a major supplier of so-called “voyage iron” used as exchange for slaves.

2

Michael McEachrane

Moreover, it managed the Caribbean island of St Barthélémy as a free port for slave ships for nearly a hundred years (1784–1878) and abolished slavery fi rst in 1847 (a year before Denmark).4 Likewise, the Swedish botanist Carl Linneaus not only pioneered the modern taxonomy of nature but race biology too.5 It was not until the 1950s and 60s that Swedish schoolbooks abandoned routine references to the innate superiority of the “Nordic race,” corresponding indolence of Africans and so on.6 On the whole, the Nordic countries too share a legacy of making white Europeans the picture of virtue, civilization, history, beauty, human dignity, rights and the identity of the nation. It is against this backdrop, together with the denial of race as more than marginally relevant to society, that the black Norwegian performance group Queendom challenge commonplace views of who can and should be included in Norway’s national community. Staging stories from their lives as black Norwegian women becomes a political act in itself. As a member of the group puts it in madeleine kennedy-macfoy’s chapter: “Our main objective has been to widen the defi nition of the word ‘Norwegian’ so that the term, and the understanding of what the national identity, Norwegian, means, should be much broader.” This calls for a conception of what it means to be Norwegian that is both disassociated from and inclusive of any particular race or ethnicity. The history of jazz in the Nordic countries foregrounds the racial nature of their national identities while at the same time demonstrating the futility of racially, ethnically or culturally exclusive conceptions of nationhood. The chapter on jazz, race and national identity in Denmark, Norway and Sweden describes how the music went from being demonized to become a seamless part of national culture. When Louis Armstrong fi rst toured Sweden in 1933 he was unanimously denounced by critics as “cannibal offspring,” a gorilla from the deep jungles, and so on. Less than a decade later during the German Occupation of Denmark, domestic jazz was the most popular form of music and the Afro-Danish band the Harlem Kiddies were one of the most popular bands. During the 1950s Swedish and African American jazz musicians like Quincy Jones created world-class music in Stockholm and New York under the record label Metronome. In the 1960s Copenhagen became an international jazz Mecca with several prominent African American jazz musicians even making a life for themselves in Denmark—such as Ben Webster (1909–1973) and Kenny Drew (1928–1993) who were buried at the honorary Assistens Kirkegård alongside the likes of H. C. Andersen and Søren Kierkegaard. And in the 1970s Norwegian and Swedish musicians under the auspices of the German label ECM cultivated the famed but elusive “Nordic sound” in jazz with influences from European chamber music and Scandinavian folk. But perhaps most intriguing of all from the perspective of nationhood are the lives and careers of Danish musicians John Tchicai and Marilyn

Introduction

3

Mazur. Both their lives and careers defy any racially, ethnically or geographically reductive views of national culture and belonging. Tchicai (R. I. P. 1936–2012), a brother of one of the founding members of the Harlem Kiddies, was born in Copenhagen to a Danish mother and a Congolese father. In the 1960s he became a key player on the New York free jazz scene and enjoyed a career that spanned continents and genres ranging from Afro-jazz to classical music in Denmark to playing jazz fusion in California during the 1990s. Mazur, born 1955 in New York to a Polish mother and an African American father, grew up in Copenhagen from the age of six to eventually become an internationally celebrated jazz drummer. She is the only female ever to play in a Miles Davis band and has played with Wayne Shorter, Gil Evans and the Norwegian saxophonist Jan Garbarek, among others, and recorded several albums for ECM.

II. The traditional identities of Nordic nations as white present a dilemma that they share with the rest of Europe and many of its former colonies. In his landmark study, An American Dilemma: The Negro Problem and Modern Democracy (1944), the Swedish economist Gunnar Myrdal wrote of a conflict between an esteemed American creed of civic equality in contrast to the discrimination faced by black Americans.7 However, what Myrdal did not recognize is that this creed which America shares with other liberal democracies has itself never been race-neutral.8 As I write in my own chapter, the liberal democracies of Europe and many of its former colonies are inscribed in a continuing legacy of privileging the humanity of white people. Liberal democracies are founded on a tradition (going back to the Age of Reason and European Colonialism) of taking the humanity of white people—white men in particular—for granted while putting into question or denying the equal humanity of people of color. In principle liberal democracies grant equal rights to their members in virtue of their human dignity. But this principle is inscribed in a tradition of viewing equality of dignity and rights as premised on a capacity for reason and Western-style civilization—a tradition that has informed both liberal democracy and racism. In addition, although liberal democracies are based on a respect for human dignity it is an exclusive respect for the dignity and rights of a nationally confi ned people. This exclusive respect is only compounded by nation-states where nationhood is understood in terms of race, ethnicity and culture. There is an argument to be made that there is a continuing colonial legacy in Europe which is expressed both externally in relation to poor and so-called developing countries—most of whom once were European colonies—and internally in relation to people of color. Externally Europe’s political and economic relations to its former colonies still employ double

4

Michael McEachrane

standards of allowing for working conditions, foreign control and exploitation of natural resources—not to mention political control—that it would never permit in its own countries. It abuses the dignity of the members of its former colonies with one hand and with the other gives them development aid, humanitarian aid, human rights and political asylum. Internally discrimination in European countries—as in many of its former colonies like the U.S., Latin America and Australia—follows familiar patterns. Those who suffer most from discrimination are usually people of color. The Nordic countries notwithstanding, the most discriminated groups tend to be black Africans and Roma; whereas, for instance, in the U.S. and Latin America the most affected groups are indigenous populations and African descendants. In Europe minorities of an Asian, Middle Eastern or North African background are also particularly vulnerable groups.9 Still, in the Nordic countries race is generally treated as socially irrelevant. The post-WWII European rejection of race as an outmoded quasibiological category best left to history is particularly stark in the Nordic countries. Finland, Norway and Sweden do not even unequivocally acknowledge racial discrimination in law—but misleadingly subsumes it under ethnic discrimination. Overall, racism is rarely addressed by politicians or the public in the Nordic countries save for explicit racial, ethnic or cultural derisions and overtly racist ideologies. A consequence of such widespread denial of race and more routine forms of racial discrimination is a doublemarginalization of people of color—black people in particular. A case in point is the event that took place at the Modern Museum of Art in Stockholm in April of 2012 and the debate that ensued. The Swedish Minister of Culture, Lena Adelsohn Liljeroth, had been invited to inaugurate a celebration at the Museum of World Art Day and the 75th birthday of The Swedish Artists’ National Organization. After an inauguration speech she was asked to cut the fi rst piece of a cake depicting a naked black woman on her back with no legs and in black face with a huge grin of red lips, sparse white teeth and bulging white eyes. The audience was nearly all white. Adelsohn Liljeroth cut a piece of what was supposed to be the black woman’s vagina and as she did so the head of the woman screamed. The Minister laughed and the audience laughed with her and applauded. The Minister then proceeded to feed the head with what was supposed to be a piece of the woman’s groin, which was followed by more laughter and applause. This event, which soon became a world sensation, was almost unanimously lauded by Swedish press as anti-racist. In the chapter about the event and the debate that ensued some of the few dissenting voices in the debate reflect on the social milieu that made this event and its consenting reception possible. The general judgment is that mainstream Sweden views itself as categorically anti-racist and that any accusations of perpetuating rather than challenging racism must be—as the Minister herself wrote in response to Kitimbwa Sabuni of the National Association of Afro-Swedes—based on

Introduction

5

a misunderstanding. On the contrary, Victoria Kawesa describes the event as the fi rst major public incident in Sweden that exposed racism at such a high political level. According to her, the frivolity of the Minister and the audience of mostly white women toward the representation before them especially demonstrated a disassociation from black women as women in a country which sees itself as a beacon of gender equality. In her chapter Anna Adeniji writes about how race, ethnicity, nationality, class and gender intersect in her position as a mixed-race black Swedish middle-class woman. There is a growing trend in the U.S. for people who have mixed African ancestry to claim that they are not black, but multiracial.10 Philosopher Lewis Gordon has criticized this trend for reinforcing rather than challenging a racist ideology according to which (a) be white, but above all (b) don’t be black.11 Reflecting on her own life Adeniji thinks it would be misleading for someone like herself of black Nigerian and white Swedish parents to identify as “not black,” “both black and white” or “race transcendent.” Instead she sees it as her existential predicament to navigate a world where she may be seen as “mixed,” “black,” “not really black,” “Swedish,” “not a real Swede,” “immigrant” and so on. It is the predicament of a “nomadic subject”—someone whose identity is neither here nor there and sometimes here and sometimes there—a quintessential experience of an increasingly diverse Sweden. One of the most interesting artists to hit the Norwegian scene in recent decades is the Ugandan born poet and novelist Bertrand Besigye. As Helena Karlsson mentions in her chapter, Besigye’s work has been received mostly in modernist aesthetic terms and in the context of a Norwegian literary tradition. Instead Karlsson reads him as articulating a race-informed civilization critique that connects to 20th century black traditions and literary themes. It is a civilization critique that presents Besigye’s perspective as an African Norwegian as part of the solution to the cultural stagnation of an economically well-faring society. Not as a matter of proposing differing racial characteristics but of destabilizing inflated self-perceptions of the West as bearers of civilization, rationality and virtue, reverting the devaluing of non-Western—in particular black—peoples and their cultures. His writing presents a joyful and freedom-seeking voice calling for greater cultural openness, racial equality, a society free from self-indulgence, overconsumption, exploitation and a reconnection to a wider cosmos. Two poems by Besigye translated into English ends the second section of this book.

III. The demographics of the Nordic countries are rapidly changing. For example, in Sweden about 27% of the population are either born abroad or have at least one parent who is born abroad and about half of these are of

6

Michael McEachrane

non-European origin. Giving an estimate of how many people of African descent reside in the Nordic countries is difficult as they do not keep racial or ethnic statistics, but only statistics of country of origin. Adding Swedish residents who are either themselves from or at least have one parent from sub-Saharan Africa, a Caribbean island nation or 12.9% of the U.S. population (the approximate amount of African Americans in the U.S.) amounts to a rough and conservative estimate of 1.8% African descendants (in a general population of about 9,500,000). An equally rough and conservative estimate of African descendants in the other Nordic countries amounts to 1.6% in Norway, 0.7% in Finland, 0.7% in Denmark and 0.2% in Iceland.12 This may be compared to the UK which has about 3.3% black inhabitants.13 The changing population demographics of Nordic countries call for a reconceptualization of their national and political communities. Reducing national community to race, ethnicity, culture or even geography becomes increasingly unsatisfactory when the national population defies such reductions. It also becomes increasingly unsatisfactory to reduce respect for human dignity to a state when virtually the entire world is represented within its borders. As Achille Mbembe says of Europe, “Every nation is now transnational and diasporic. The crucible in which the nation is being forged is as much outside its territorial borders as inside.” And he goes on to say, “If we wish to move beyond the new fractures that have resulted from the entanglement of different histories, we must make the transition to cosmopolitanism.”14 This will mean both acknowledging the racial, ethnic and geographic conception of the modern European state—not to mention modernity itself—and moving beyond it. In his seminal book, The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness (1993), Paul Gilroy places black Brits in the context of transatlantic African diasporas. “Striving to be both European and black,” he writes, “requires some specific forms of double consciousness”—thereby invoking, of course, W. E. B. Du Bois’ famous term for the sense as a black person in a white world of always looking at oneself through the eyes of others.15 As Gilroy argues in his book, being black in Europe is by default a challenge to longstanding connections between nationality, culture, race and belonging. Still, although there are many similarities between being black in the Nordic countries and, say, Britain, there are also some key differences. On the one hand, as elsewhere in Europe, African descendants in the Nordic countries are situated in transnational race and gender hierarchies.16 The Nordic countries too are implicated by the relative centrality to Western modernity of colonialism and the transatlantic slave trade. Moreover, it is safe to say that most African descendants in the Nordic countries have origins in former European colonies. It is also safe to say that the “Black Atlantic” is an important cultural resource to many if not most African descendants in the Nordic countries. This book alone is an example of this.

Introduction

7

On the other hand, the great majority of African descendants in the Nordic countries have not been immediately shaped by the New World experience of being descendants of transatlantic African slaves. Neither do the great majority live in countries that once colonized their country of origin. By contrast, a large amount of black people in Britain are part of Caribbean diasporas, shaped by transatlantic slavery, and share a history with many other black people in the country of having been under British colonial rule. In the Nordic countries the great majority of African descendants have immediate or recent origins in the Horn of Africa or other parts of the continent. For example, in Sweden (following the same measure as stated above) about 95% of African descendants in the country were either born or have at least one parent who was born on the continent and about 62% (or 1.1% of the national population) were either born or have at least one parent who was born in the Horn of Africa.17 Rather than being primarily shaped by Black Atlantic experiences, African descendants in the Nordic countries are therefore more likely shaped by so-called “New African Diaspora” experiences of being post-colonial African immigrants. This group is shaped by African ethnicities, nationalities and post- or neo-colonial societies and experiences. It is a group which often retains its social, cultural, political and economic ties to its home countries on the continent. It is also a group to which the pronounced racialization of Africans and African descendants in the West at the expense of other identities—such as ethnicity, nationality and religion—often is a novel experience. 18 What is more, at least in the case of the Horn of Africa, Islam, Arab colonization, Arab slave trade and the Arab world writ large have played no small role in shaping the region. In her chapter, Anna Rastas points out that although African diasporas in Finland represent a great amount of cultural, ethnic, religious and other forms of diversity they are likely to face a host of similar issues. Beginning with the memoirs of Rosa Clay who was born in 1875 in what is now Namibia and brought to Finland as a young girl, Rastas weaves together personal narratives by African descendants about their encounters with Finnish society. The narratives themselves, Rastas suggests, may be understood as acts of what bell hooks has called talking back—acts whereby oppressed or otherwise marginalized minorities move from merely being objects to being subjects by expressing their own perspectives vis-à-vis the power and conceptions of the majority. Although most public discussions of racism in Finland are denials of its existence rather than discussions of its workings, the experiences of African descendants in Finland tell a different story. Still, many African immigrants are not accustomed to referring to themselves as black and if anything prefer to label themselves Africans. Young Finns of African descent, Rastas notes, are struggling in an environment in which there are no established words for their particularity and often resist existing categorizations and identities such as black, Finnish or refugee. “Therefore,” Rastas writes, “we need to identify their acts of

8

Michael McEachrane

talking back also in their refusals to exclusively embrace some of the identities offered to them.” The African American writer Nella Larsen (1891–1964) is widely lauded as one of the icons of the so-called Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s and 1930s. A substantial portion of one of her two novels, Quicksand (1928), concerns the protagonist Helga Crane’s two years in Copenhagen. Paul Gilroy has identified Larsen’s relationship to Denmark as a Black Atlantic case study in waiting.19 However, until recently the Copenhagen episode and Larsen’s relationship to Denmark has been treated as a mere literary fantasy. Today, though, some scholars have begun to account for the full complexity of Larsen’s biracial, African American and Afro-Danish identities. Martyn Bone, who is one of them, places Quicksand and Nella Larsen squarely in a Danish context. Larsen, who was born in the U.S. to a black father from the Danish West Indies (today’s Virgin Islands) and a white Danish mother, spent three of her teenage years in Denmark. Quicksand, Bone argues, has an uncanny resonance in today’s Denmark with its pioneering account of a non-white immigrant who is simultaneously the biracial daughter of a native Dane. On Bone’s reading, the book evokes both Denmark’s historical role in the global economy of the slave trade and its hidden racism. Although the novel takes place at a time when the Danish West Indies still was in Danish possession and there were some black people to be found in Copenhagen, the presence of other blacks in and beyond the colonial center remains unspoken in the novel. In Denmark as well as in the U.S. Helga is often exposed to essentialist conceits about black exoticism and primitivism. At the same time “this foolishness about race” is dismissed—by the husband of Helga’s aunt in Copenhagen—as something un-Danish. To Bone the silence surrounding Danish slavery and colonialism and unwillingness of the Danes depicted in the book to register explicitly the social reality of race and racism (including their own unexamined status as white) exemplifies attitudes that still prevail. Among the most prominent diasporas in the Nordic countries are migrants from the Horn of Africa. As mentioned they are the largest group of African migrants to the Nordic countries, belong to so-called “New African Diasporas” and have migrated from a region of Africa influenced by the Arab world. Their relatively large presence in the West is also a recent phenomenon. In addition, they—Somalis in particular—are especially vulnerable to discrimination in Europe. According to the most comprehensive survey to date on minority discrimination in Europe, The European Union Minorities and Discrimination Survey from 2009, Somalis in Finland and Denmark are among the three minorities in the EU most subjected to personal theft, assault or threat (about half of the respondents) and are among the top ten groups in Europe that experience most overall discrimination. 20 Although it is difficult to ascertain the exact sources of this situation the discussants in the fi nal chapter of the book mention a combination of afrophobia and Islamophobia as a key reason.

Introduction

9

In Europe people from the Horn may be subject to afrophobia, but, according to Amel Gorani, in Africa they are known for not embracing a black African identity. Ethnic Somalis may be seen as black African in the West. However, if we are to believe Abdalla Duh, in the Horn they often see themselves as culturally closer to the Arab world than to the more southern and western parts of Africa and refer to Bantus and other darker complexioned Africans as “Adoon”—which literally means “slaves” and alludes to what is seen as their history of being subjects to the Arab slave trade. But though in a country like Sudan a hierarchical distinction often is made between Arabized and non-Arabized Africans, being light-skinned Sudanese also indicates low status. Instead, privilege is given to those who belong to communities in the riverain regions of central northern Sudan who often are as dark-skinned as marginalized groups who do not identify as Arab. So what happens when ethnic and racial sensitivities from the Horn get transplanted in Nordic soils? Amel Gorani suggests that being subjected to discrimination in Europe may help some migrants from the Horn look critically at their own experiences of once belonging to a dominant group. But what will it take for race to become broadly politicized by minorities as well as majorities in the Nordic region? The patronizing approach to dealing with African and other immigrants while failing to come to grips with racism does not seem to be working very well. As Amel Gorani puts it, “It’s one thing to be patrons to Africans, another to live with us as equals.” Lund, Sweden, April 2013 NOTES 1. This phenomenon is sometimes termed “Nordic exceptionalism” (see e.g. Mai Palmberg, “The Nordic Colonial Mind,” in Complying with Colonialism: Gender, Race and Ethnicity in the Nordic Region, eds. Suvi Keskinen et al. (Farnham, UK: Ashgate, 2009)). 2. Olof Palme, Politik är att vilja (Stockholm: Bokförlaget Prisma, 1968), 64. My translation. “But it is not that simple,” he went on and described everyday prejudice in encounters with a growing immigrant population. “Internationalism as ideal and principle is one thing. Internationalism in our everyday lives another. But it is in everyday life that we can show whether the ideals are real” (Ibid., 64, 66). Palme ended the speech with a cosmopolitan vision of the nation: “Immigrants in Sweden can in a sense be said to herald a new age. They want to become part of our community and we must in turn seek our way out into a wider community across borders. The world comes to us and we need to get out into the world” (Ibid., 67–68). 3. Bolette B. Blaagaard, “Remembering Nordic Colonialism: Danish Cultural Memory in Journalistic Practice,” in Nordic Colonial Mind, KULT 7- A Postcolonial Special Issues Series, eds. Serena Maurer et al. (Roskilde University, 2010), 101–121; Svend E. Green-Pedersen, “The Scope and Structure of the Danish Negro Slave Trade,” Scandinavian Economic History Review 19, no. 21 (1971): 149–197.

10

Michael McEachrane

4. Clayton E. Jewett and John O. Allen, Slavery in the South: A State-by-State History (Westport: Greenwood Press, 2004), 36–37; Chris Evans and Göran Rydén, Baltic Iron in the Atlantic World in the Eighteenth Century (Leiden: Brill, 2007); Bertil Häggman, “The Swedish Slave Trade,” in The Historical Encyclopedia of World Slavery, ed. Junius P. Rodriguez (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO, Inc., 1997), 624; Sheila Ghose, “Postcolonial Sweden,” in A Historical Companion to Postcolonial Literatures—Continental Europe and Its Empires, eds. Prem Poddar, Rajeev S. Patke, and Lars Jensen (Edinburgh University Press, 2008); James Walvin, Atlas of Slavery (Edinburgh Gate: Pearson Education Limited, 2006), 123. 5. Linneaus classified homo sapiens into white, black, yellow and red peoples with distinct psychological characteristics (e.g. Emmanuel C. Eze, ed., Race and the Enlightenment: A Reader (Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1997)). 6. Luis Ajagán-Lester, “De Andra”: Afrikaner i svenska pedagogiska texter (1768–1965) (Stockholm: HLS Förlag, 2000); Mai Palmberg, “The Nordic Colonial Mind,” in Complying with Colonialism: Gender, Race and Ethnicity in the Nordic Region, eds. Suvi Keskinen et al. (Farnham, UK: Ashgate, 2009); Mats Svensson, Härskarrasen, folkmaterialet och de mongolida fi nnarna—raser, rasbiologi och rashygien i svenska läroböcker i geografi och biologi under drygt hundra år, master’s thesis, Educational Science (Flemingsberg: Södertörns högskola, 2008). Still today it is all but obvious that Swedish schoolbooks have abandoned a view of Africans as mired in confl ict-ridden “tribalism,” without a history beyond European colonialism of the continent, on a lower level of historical development, with little or no agency, chronically in need of aid, patronizing objects of pity rather than as equal subjects, etc. (e.g. Mai Palmberg, Afrikabild för partnerskap? Afrika i de svenska skolböckerna (Uppsala: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet, 2000)). 7. Gunnar Myrdal, An American Dilemma: The Negro Problem and Modern Democracy, Twentieth Anniversary Edition (New York, Evanston, IL and London: Harper & Row Publishers, 1962). 8. Cf. Charles W. Mills, Blackness Visible: Essays in Philosophy and Race (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998). 9. For the situation in Europe see e.g. European Agency for Fundamental Rights, EU-MIDIS: European Union Minorities and Discrimination Survey, Main Results Report (Vienna: European Agency for Fundamental Rights, 2009); Carl-Ulrik Schierup, Peo Hansen, and Stephen Castles, Migration, Citizenship and the European Welfare State: A European Dilemma (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2006); Masoud Kamali, Racial Discrimination: Institutional Patterns and Politics (New York and London: Routledge, 2009); Darlene C. Hine, Trica D. Keaton, and Stephen Small, eds., Black Europe and the African Diaspora (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2009); Fatima El-Tayeb, European Others: Queering Ethnicity in Post-National Europe (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2011); Eduardo Bonilla-Silva, “‘This Is a White Country’: The Racial Ideology of the Western Nations of the World-System,” Sociological Inquiry 70, no. 2 (2000). 10. E.g. Susan Saulny, “Black? White? Asian? More Young Americans Choose All of the Above,” New York Times, January 29, 2011; Jared Sexton, Amalgamation Schemes: Antiblackness and the Critique of Multiracialism (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2008). 11. Lewis R. Gordon, Her Majesty’s Other Children: Sketches of Racism from a Neocolonial Age (Boston and Oxford: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 1997), chapter 6.

Introduction

11

12. I want to thank Inge Göransson, Senior Statistician at Statistics Sweden, for coming up with the amount of Swedish residents who either are born abroad or at least have one parent who is born abroad and how many of these are of non-European origin (the exact numbers are 26.6% for 2011 and 27.2% for 2012 and of these, 41% or 42%, depending on whether one includes Russia, are of non-European origin). The statistics on African descendants are merely preliminary estimates based on country of origin. The statistics on country of origin were for 2011 and found at Statistics Sweden (http:// www.scb.se/default____2154.aspx), Statistics Denmark (http://www.dst.dk/ en), Statistics Iceland (http://www.statice.is/) and Statistics Norway (http:// www.ssb.no/en/forside;jsessionid=2C3B7301E094CC3EACC5AF0FA48AF 526.kpld-as-prod10). I did the calculation for Sweden and want to thank Eevi Lappalainen, Senior Statistician at Statistics Finland, for helping me with Finland, and my mother, Kerstin Alsund, for helping me with Denmark, Iceland and Norway. 13. According to the 2011 census from the Office for National Statistics, http:// www.ons.gov.uk/ons/rel/census/2011-census/key-statistics-for-local-authorities-in-england-and-wales/rpt-ethnicity.html#tab-Ethnicity-in-Englandand-Wales. 14. Achille Mbembe, “Figures of Multiplicity: Can France Reinvent Its Identity?” in Frenchness and the African Diaspora: Identity and Uprising in Contemporary France, eds. Charles D. Gondola, Peter J. Bloom, and Charles Tshimanga (Bloomington and Indianopolis: Indiana University Press, 2009), 57. 15. Paul Gilroy, The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993), 1. 16. Cf. Tiffany Ruby Patterson and Robin D. G. Kelley, “Unfi nished Migrations: Reflections on the African Diaspora in the Making of the Modern World,” Africa’s Diaspora: A Special Issue, African Studies Review 43, no. 1 (2000): 20. 17. As Sweden keeps record of the countries in which residents were born and the countries in which the parents of native-born residents were born, it is not difficult to get a relatively exact amount of how many residents have their origin in Africa and which parts of Africa. At the end of 2011 the number of Swedish inhabitants who either were born or at least had one parent born in so-called sub-Saharan Africa and the Horn of Africa, respectively, was 157,832 and 104,888. Cf. Statistics Sweden, http://www.scb.se/ default____2154.aspx. 18. E.g. Isidore Okpewho and Nkiru Nzegwu, eds., The New African Diaspora (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009); Emmanuel Akyeampong, “Africans in the Diaspora: The Diaspora and Africa,” African Affairs 99, no. 395 (2000). 19. Paul Gilroy, The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993), 18. 20. European Agency for Fundamental Rights, EU-MIDIS: European Union Minorities and Discrimination Survey, Main Results Report (Vienna: European Agency for Fundamental Rights, 2009).

BIBLIOGRAPHY Ajagán-Lester, Luis. “De Andra”: Afrikaner i svenska pedagogiska texter (1768– 1965). Stockholm: HLS Förlag, 2000.

12

Michael McEachrane

Akyeampong, Emmanuel. “Africans in the Diaspora: the Diaspora and Africa.” African Affairs 99, no. 395 (2000): 183–215. Benhabib, Seyla. Another Cosmopolitanism. New York and London: Oxford University Press, 2006. . Dignity in Adversity: Human Rights in Troubled Times. Cambridge, UK and Malden, MA: Polity Press, 2011. Blaagaard, Bolette B. “Remembering Nordic Colonialism: Danish Cultural Memory in Journalistic Practice.” In Nordic Colonial Mind, KULT 7—A Postcolonial Special Issues Series, edited by Serena Maurer, Kristín Lóftisdottir and Lars Jensen, 101–121. Roskilde University, 2010. Bonilla-Silva, Eduardo. Racism without Racists: Color-Blind Racism and Racial Inequality in Contemporary America. 3rd ed. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2010. . “‘This is a White Country’: The Racial Ideology of the Western Nations of the World-System.” Sociological Inquiry 70, no. 2 (2000): 188–214. El-Tayeb, Fatima. European Others: Queering Ethnicity in Post-National Europe. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2011. European Agency for Fundamental Rights. EU-MIDIS: European Union Minorities and Discrimination Survey. Main Results Report, Vienna: European Agency for Fundamental Rights, 2009. Evans, Chris, and Göran Rydén. Baltic Iron in the Atlantic World in the Eighteenth Century. Leiden: Brill, 2007. Eze, Emmanuel C., ed. Race and the Enlightenment: A Reader. Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1997. Ghose, Sheila. “Postcolonial Sweden.” In A Historical Companion to Postcolonial Literatures—Continental Europe and Its Empires, edited by Prem Poddar, Rajeev S. Patke, and Lars Jensen, 417–423. Edinburgh University Press, 2008. Gilroy, Paul. The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1993. . Postcolonial Melancholia. New York: Columbia University Press, 2005. Goldberg, David T. The Threat of Race: Refl ections on Racial Neoliberalism. Malden, MA and Oxford, UK: Blackwell Publishing, 2009. Gordon, Lewis R. Her Majesty’s Other Children: Sketches of Racism from a Neocolonial Age. Boston and Oxford: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 1997. Green-Pedersen, Svend E. “The Scope and Structure of the Danish Negro Slave Trade.” Scandinavian Economic History Review 19, no. 2 (1971): 149–197. Häggman, Bertil. “The Swedish Slave Trade.” In The Historical Encyclopedia of World Slavery, edited by Junius P. Rodriguez, 624. Santa Barbara, CA: ABCCLIO, Inc., 1997. Hine, Darlene C., Trica D. Keaton and Stephen Small, eds. Black Europe and the African Diaspora. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2009. Jewett, Clayton E., and John O. Allen. Slavery in the South: A State-by-State History. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2004. Kamali, Masoud. Racial Discrimination: Institutional Patterns and Politics. New York and London: Routledge, 2009. Lappalainen, Paul. Det blågula glashuset: Strukturell diskriminering i Sverige, SOU: 56. Stockholm: Statens offentliga utredningar, 2005. Larsen, Nella. The Complete Fiction of Nella Larsen: Passing, Quicksand, and The Stories. New York: Anchor Books, 2001 Mbembe, Achille. “Figures of Multiplicity: Can France Reinvent Its Identity?” In Frenchness and the African Diaspora: Identity and Uprising in Contemporary France, edited by Charles D. Gondola, Peter J. Bloom, and Charles Tshimanga, 55–69. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 2009.

Introduction

13

Mills, Charles W. Blackness Visible: Essays in Philosophy and Race. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998. Myrdal, Gunnar. An American Dilemma: The Negro Problem and Modern Democracy, Twentieth Anniversary Edition. New York, Evanston, IL and London: Harper & Row Publishers, 1962. Okpewho, Isidore, and Nkiru Nzegwu, eds. The New African Diaspora. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009. Palmberg, Mai. Afrikabild för partnerskap? Afrika i de svenska skolböckerna. Uppsala: Nordiska Afrikainstitutet, 2000. Palmberg, Mai. “The Nordic Colonial Mind.” In Complying with Colonialism: Gender, Race and Ethnicity in the Nordic Region, edited by Suvi Keskinen, Salla Tuori, Sari Irni, and Diana Mulinari. Farnham, UK: Ashgate, 2009. Palme, Olof. Politik är att vilja. Stockholm: Bokförlaget Prisma, 1968. Patterson, Tiffany Ruby, and Robin D. G. Kelley. “Unfi nished Migrations: Reflections on the African Diaspora in the Making of the Modern World.” Africa’s Diaspora: A Special Issue, African Studies Review 43, no. 1 (2000): 11–45. Saulny, Susan. “Black? White? Asian? More Young Americans Choose All of the Above.” New York Times, January 29, 2011. Schierup, Carl-Ulrik, Peo Hansen, and Stephen Castles. Migration, Citizenship and the European Welfare State: A European Dilemma. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2006. Sexton, Jared. Amalgamation Schemes: Antiblackness and the Critique of Multiracialism. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2008. Svensson, Mats. Härskarrasen, folkmaterialet och de mongolida fi nnarna—raser, rasbiologi och rashygien i svenska läroböcker i geografi och biologi under drygt hundra år. Master’s thesis, Educational Science, Flemingsberg: Södertörns högskola, 2008. Walvin, James. Atlas of Slavery. Edinburgh Gate: Pearson Education Limited, 2006.

This page intentionally left blank

Part I

The Nation

This page intentionally left blank

1

Imagining Blackness at the Margins Race and Difference in Iceland Kristín Loftsdóttir

The email had been circulating in companies in Iceland for its entertainment value. My husband forwarded it to me in February 2008, after having received it at the bank where he worked. The subject read: “Big news in 1977—The most famous (and the best) headline in the history of Icelandic media.”1 The headline of the news-story in question read: “Negro in Þistilfjörður.” 2 The news reporter informed the readers that he had seen, in his own words, an “African-negro” from Ghana working on one of the farms in the fjord Þistilfjörður who would be working there during the winter. The text of the email message briefly stated: “Times have changed in the Icelandic media.” In 1977, the news reporter finds it significant enough to see a person with dark skin color at this particular location that it deserves a special column in the paper. I suppose that 31 years later in 2008, the headline is perceived as funny due to the open use of a racist term in combination with a reference to Þistilfjörður, an obscure and isolated place in Iceland. As an introspective self-criticism it seems to establish how naïve Icelanders once were, not knowing what was appropriate to say. A racialist term is in a way obscured as something funny—almost cute—that can be laughed at today. As I suggest in this essay, it is acceptable to laugh because it is perceived as a testimony of times when Icelanders did not know better. It builds on the assumption that even though such a term was used in the past, racism somehow existed outside of Iceland. Immigration to Iceland from Africa has in fact never been extensive but is not non-existent; 176 people from African countries immigrated to Iceland in 1996 and 668 in 2008. 3 In spite of being isolated, Iceland has also been connected to the outside world in various ways, for example, by being a Danish dependency until 20th century. In the course of a relatively short time, the rate of immigration has rapidly increased in Iceland, thereby diversifying Iceland’s population, which today is above 300,000 people. In 2008 immigrants constituted 8% of the population, compared to below 2% in 1996.4 In 1996 most of the immigrants were from Denmark, but in recent years immigrants have arrived from more diverse and distant locations. The ratio of immigrants has thus become similar to other Nordic countries, although the ratio of

18 Kristín Loftsdóttir second generation immigrants is much lower or only 0.5% of the population, compared to 0.1 in 1996. 5 In a relatively short time Iceland has become an increasingly diverse society, giving rise to public debates and discussions regarding not only the future development of Icelandic society, but also what it means to be Icelandic and the meanings of multiculturalism in an Icelandic context.6 In this essay I will focus on Icelandic conceptions of race, showing that although people of dark skin complexion have not been present in great numbers in Iceland, the idea of Africa and “blackness” still has an extensive history in Iceland. I pay particular attention to late 19th and early 20th century conceptions of race when Icelandic “white” identity attained meaning in juxtaposition to African “uncivilized others.” Icelanders were— contrary to what is sometimes claimed in the present—familiar with the widespread racist images and ideologies of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Finally, I stress that past conceptions of blackness are important to understanding current conceptions of race and racism, explaining how recent concerns with race and racial images have to be seen as connected to wider explorations of the meanings of an increasingly multicultural society in Iceland. For some time now scholars have demonstrated how European national identities were formed by colonialism and imperialism—colonized countries providing important sources of imaginary and counter-identifications in which European identities were formed. Paul Gilroy, for instance, has famously questioned how key ideas that often are seen as foregrounding European history—such as the ideas of modernity, civilization and nationalism—are spoken of as arising in isolation from imperialistic and colonial contexts. Similarly, he has criticized “cultural insiderism”—which sees national entities as fully formed within their own spaces rather than as products of transverse dynamics.7 Colonization was not only something happening in faraway places, but at the “heart of European culture” as stressed by Edward Said.8 In a similar spirit, Dipesh Chakrabarty has called for the “provincialization of Europe,” stressing the abandonment of the history of Europe as universal for an increased appreciation for the regional particularities of that history.9 Such insights stress simultaneously the need to acknowledge transnational and transcontinental connections in understanding European history, and how these connections are played out in localized contexts. Although these perspectives have been established for some time, it is only recently that scholars have begun looking extensively at the involvement that the Nordic countries had with the colonial project.10 Scholars on Icelandic history have importantly shown how Icelandic nationalism was influenced by late 18th century and early 19th century European romanticism,11 but have only to a very limited extent analyzed how nationalistic ideas were informed by European—including Nordic—colonial and racialized praxises.12 In my approach, I stress the need to show how

Imagining Blackness at the Margins

19

Icelandic identity was shaped by transnational connections and notions of other peoples. Iceland’s relation to colonialism is an interesting one. During the 19th century Icelanders were becoming increasingly influenced by the colonial ideology of the European mainland and beginning to see themselves as members of the “white race.” At the same time, they were attempting to gain independence as a colony. Iceland’s commonwealth period began with its settlement in the late 9th century. This period of independence ended in 1262 with the union with Norway, and in 1380 Iceland became a Danish dependency with the unification of the Norwegian and Danish Crowns. Few signs of displeasure had been apparent with that arrangement prior to the 19th century when Icelanders started to demand independence.13 During the 19th and early 20th centuries Icelanders participated in ongoing discussions about race and racial classifications. They were then familiar with the racial stereotypes that permeated European discourse and situated their own identities as Icelanders and white within such discourses. By focusing on Icelandic identity as constructed in relation to images of Africa, my approach can be seen as part of critical whiteness studies (and critical race studies more generally).14 Although whiteness has been interrogated since over a century by black intellectuals such as Zora Neale Hurston, W. E. B. Du Bois, James Baldwin and Toni Morrison, it is only more recently that the construct has been thoroughly studied by white scholars of Western history and culture.15 An important contribution of whiteness studies is its excavations of how racial classifications have been constructed around white skin color as the norm.16 As often pointed out, the fact that “white” individuals more readily can forget their own skin color and position of power does in itself draw attention to the privileges associated with being categorized as white.17 In the following discussion of images of Africa in Iceland, I begin by briefly pointing to the greater diversity of representations in Iceland pre18th century. I then go on to focus more critically on 19th-century images of Africa and racial imaginary and explore views on race and skin color in contemporary Iceland.18

AFRICA IN ICELAND PRIOR TO THE 19TH CENTURY One of the most extensive descriptions of Africa in Medieval Iceland is published in Hauksbók (The book of Haukur)—compiled in 1300 by the Icelandic lawyer Haukur Erlingsson—and was based on the work of Archbishop Isidor from Sevilla, especially benefiting from his Etymologiae.19 InterEuropean echoes and influences were commonplace during the medieval period. Hauksbók reflects how medieval Icelandic authors were influenced by, and replicated, texts from other parts of Europe.20 It presents Africa as a place of strange creatures, such as creatures without heads and beings

20 Kristín Loftsdóttir called Panfagi who eat everything they get hold of. 21 Images of monstrous races were quite popular in Europe at that time, dating back at least to the classic antiquity and the work of such authors as Plinius the Elder, whose book, Naturalis Historae Praefatio, was copied for centuries after his death in 79 A.D. 22 The European depiction of Africa as populated by monstrous species and strange beasts fi rst changed when an increased exploration and knowledge of Africa’s coasts expanded within the continent, 23 even though gross stereotypical representations continued.24 The story of Ham, and how his dark skin color was a curse that forever would follow his descendants, seemed to have been a prominent image of Africans during the medieval period. Edith R. Sanders25 states that, probably fi rst appearing in the Babylonian Talmud in the 6th century A.D., associations between dark skin color and God’s curse—exemplified in the story of Ham’s curse by his father Noah—were later picked up by Christians. In these narratives Ham was cursed with dark skin and migrated to Africa, which since was populated by his dark-skinned descendants. These narratives, different in form and content, gained a general acceptance among European scholars in the 16th and 17th centuries, even though they were known prior to that time. 26 Hauksbók replicates an idea of Noha’s third son Ham (often spelled Kam) as the ancestor of African people. In the Icelandic saga Veraldar Saga (World History), thought to originate in the 1300s, there is also a mentioning of Ham’s ancestors living in the southern part of the world, 27 indicating some familiarity with this myth in Iceland. Although Medieval Iceland often characterized dark skin color in negative ways, the representations of Africa were diverse and not always organized around skin color or darkness. As noted by Jenny Jochens, in old Icelandic texts written prior to the 16th century the concept “blueman”28 (blámaður)—later gaining the racialized meaning associated with “black”—is used to refer to all kinds of strange people outside of Iceland. 29 Perhaps most notably, dark trolls and giants.30 However, in old Icelandic texts, family relations with giants were not necessarily perceived as negative. To the contrary, some great men of history were characterized as having such relations.31 And, although Africans were depicted as “bluemen,” they could be sympathetically characterized. The Icelandic chivalric saga (Icelandic: Riddarasögur), 32 Dínus saga Drambláta—probably written in the late 14th century or early 15th 33 —tells the story of the Egyptian prince Dínus. In the book, dark monsters, and dangerous dark men, are to some extent associated with the African continent, but one can still see some emphasis on agency, which is very different from representations of Africans in later sources. And although the saga speaks of the “blue” continent burned by the sun, inhabited by giants and dark men, it also speaks of a king called Maximilanus, who is described as a decent man (ráðvöndum), wealthy and wise.34 As Audrey Smedley35 has stressed, there is no reason to assume that the same conceptions of people existed in the past as in more contemporary

Imagining Blackness at the Margins

21

racial classifications. In Icelandic as well as other European texts prior to the 15th century, negative attributes were certainly associated with Africa, but Africans were diversely represented and the continent “Africa” had not even been defined.36 The diverse medieval engagements between Africa and Europe are, for example, reflected in that Egypt, Nubia and Ethiopia are part of the history of Christianity.37 Between 1300 and 1500 various negotiations were ongoing between European and Ethiopian rulers of joining forces against what they perceived as a Muslim threat. 38 And the notion, to give another example, appearing in the 12th century, of Prester John, a powerful Christian king living in the interior of Africa, similarly implies the diverse imaginations of Africa during the medieval period.39

CREATING A RACIAL COMMUNITY IN ICELAND Fast forwarding to the 19th century, we fi nd a less pluralistic and sympathetic image of Africa. The representations of Africa in 19th century Iceland were generally not based on actual encounters, but on texts written by Icelandic people who had never been to Africa nor participated directly in the colonial project. For the great majority of Europeans during that time, the only source of information about Africa and other “exotic” parts of the world were texts—most notably, the exceedingly popular genre of “travel literature” and its characteristic use of stereotypes.40 Stereotypes, one should add, had become even more racialized during the 19th century. As is widely known, beginning with the Enlightenment period of the 18th century, Europeans increasingly identified themselves as white, European and modern—where being modern was seen as an expression of being “white.” Such an identity was contingent on a contrasting perception of other “races” as lacking modernity and as inherently inferior.41 Racial classifications had been put forward by scientists prior to the nineteenth century; for example, by Carl Linnaeus in his Systema Naturae in 1735. However, it was not until the 19th century that the term “race” became widely popular in judging human diversity, cultural difference, European hegemony and more.42 During the early 19th century, Africa had become an exotic background for adventure stories, constructed on the border between fantasy and reality,43 creating fluid and unstable borders between fiction and exploration narratives.44 Thornton points out that in texts referring to Africa, European readers selected what served their “own moral and intellectual needs”; 45 travel stories being important in explaining and justifying colonization and subjectification of African individuals.46 Franey affi rms that in many travel texts Africans are pictured as the subjects of imperialism but not as citizens with rights in line with moral and political Enlightenment ideals, thus demonstrating a deeply ingrained belief in intrinsic differences between Africans and Europeans. 47

22

Kristín Loftsdóttir

At the same time as the idea of racial hierarchies was forged, situating European “white” men on the top, Europeans were also increasingly seeing themselves as belonging to different naturally constituted nations. This new organization of the world into nationhoods was based on the ideology that every group of people that constituted a nation had a common history, culture and destiny.48 Johann Gottfried Herder’s idea that language was the natural basis for nationhood, coupled with his emphasis on each nation’s unique character as expressed through language, became central nationalist theories. Under the influence of Herder, educated elites helped rewrite history in accordance with this new way of understanding and organizing the world. As discussed by Orvar Löfgren, this project was often a contradictory one, emphasizing development and modernity while simultaneously entertaining a self-image of a timeless cultural heritage. 49 Such nationalistic ideals suited Icelanders who already had a strong pride in their culture.50 As Iceland did not have its own university until 1911, the majority of Icelandic intellectuals studied in Copenhagen. For the Icelandic elite, Copenhagen was the center of intellectual and cultural life during most of the 19th century. In those days, transportation to many parts of Iceland was actually better from Denmark than from Reykjavík.51 Iceland’s struggle for independence is usually seen as starting in 1885 when Iceland demanded nearly absolute autonomy in its internal affairs and only nominal ties to the Danish crown. This demand for independence was motivated by a nationalistic fervor for the Icelandic language and the Medieval Icelandic literature. As pointed out by Guðmundur Hálfdánarson, while the 18th century elite most likely saw Iceland’s progress as guided by the Danish king, the 19th century nationalists regarded the Danish colonial government as the cause of Iceland’s decline from a glorious historical past. This criticism was presented as the result of the “unnatural” arrangement where one nation ruled another.52 The Icelandic sagas were one of the most important factors in the creation of Icelandic national identity in the 19th and early 20th century, 53 creating a continuity between a glorious past, an Icelandic commonwealth and the present. Skírnir is an Icelandic journal that during the 19th century annually published news from around the world, and was during the time generally seen as the most important source of foreign news. 54 Founded in 1816, the journal was created to celebrate Icelandic language and culture. It was published by The Icelandic Literature Association (Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag), which then was based in Copenhagen and remained so until 1880. 55 The association was quite important in fostering nationalistic sentiments and celebrating the Icelandic part of the intellectual heritage of the West.56 Skírnir’s authors were predominantly educated men, generally from the upper echelons of society, which goes to show how certain segments of society have interpreted and represented the nation. Skírnir’s reference to Africa is not extensive and during some years there is no mention made of the continent. In an issue of the journal from 1828

Imagining Blackness at the Margins

23

it is even stated that that year there was no great news from Africa. 57 This statement probably reflects how the writer sees no significant news about Europeans in Africa. Whenever there is news about Africa to be found in the journal it is clear that it predominantly is related to the exploration, colonization, and settlement of European men on the continent. In many of the news items, African people and societies appear more as a backdrop to European life on the continent—as porters and servants, or as savages standing in the way of European colonization. The emphasis of Skírnir’s texts on the colonial exploration of Africa can be seen as gendered testimonies providing a way for the Icelandic reader and writer of the text to visualize and situate themselves as part of the educated European elite.58 By repeating European stereotypes of Africa, educated Icelandic males associated themselves with Europe in contrast to those they saw as savages. Skírnir’s discussions can thus be seen as referring to the brotherhood of “white” European men who subjugate Africans and initiate progress on the continent. Here it should be stressed that, as subjected people under Danish rule, and themselves often negatively represented in European texts as ignorant and brute, Icelanders’ own subject position was complex.59 In examining how Skírnir’s texts engage racialized categories, it is interesting to note how news relating to Africa generally does not refer to “white” people, but frequently to “black” people. As several critical race theorists have pointed out, “white” male identity typically involves a normalizing and universalizing of one’s own identity as merely “human,” “a person,” “an individual,” “myself” and so on. In this way “white” becomes, as Thomas K. Nakayama and Robert L. Krizek have phrased it, a “noncolor.”60 In Skírnir, the frequent repetition of “black” skin color makes it a dominant sign in defi ning the continent. This becomes even more striking due to the absence of other personal characteristics of individuals, such as their age or gender. The most common concepts used to describe Africans are various combinations of black, dark, blue and man: blámenn, svörtumenn, svartir menn, svertingjar and blökkumenn.61 This sort of discourse created a simplistic notion of two opposing categories: implicitly racialized European humanoids and explicitly racialized “black” Others (whose humanity, if any, needed to be qualified). As such it located Icelanders within the category “white,” which was increasingly associated with “European” and “civilized,” thus further distancing Icelanders from an identity as subjugated. Not surprisingly, the journal regularly featured stories of European explorers in Africa that continually emphasized these explorers’ superior intelligence and masculinity. Such narratives become especially vivid in the journal’s articles about the explorer Henry Morton Stanley. These articles did not reflect on the controversies that surrounded Stanley during his lifetime. Instead, he is on several occasions characterized as a civilized and strong man who is subjugating the African continent.62

24

Kristín Loftsdóttir

These kinds of racist conceptions also flourished in Iceland’s educational material during the 19th century. This effectively legitimized racist views of the world by placing them within educational, scientific and scholarly contexts. Geography books published during this period include extensive discussions of Africa, which somewhat ironically reflected an interest in the continent. The book Almenn landskipunarfræði (General Geography) was published in 1821 by the Icelandic Literary Association. The introduction explains the goal of the publication as to “give our country” a scholarly book in geography.63 The book has a relatively long chapter about Africa and gives a description of a few populations, such as Fulani, Sudan and inhabitants of Alsir. The descriptions of these groups use objectifying language as exemplified in the description of “Kaffi rs”: “they are bigger, better build, stronger and more durable than most negro races; they are also more intelligent, better tempered and have a better sense of chastity.”64 A geography book published more than 60 years later in 1882 provides more elaborate racial classifications using physical and linguistic indicators, referring to studies by other European scholars, probably so as to legitimize his classifications of people into different races as “scientific.”65 Nonetheless, without hesitation it makes claims such as that some types of Negros are more intelligent than others66 and that Bushmen are the most despicable of all humans (allra manna auðvirðislegir).67 The overall presentation as representing the newest scientific knowledge gives what he probably saw as a factual basis for human diversity and indicates how ingrained racist typologies had become in Europe during that time.68 Geography books published in Iceland during the early 20th century continued to emphasize typological views, classifying human beings into inferior and superior races. No powerful culture or civilized nation has been composed by “Negros,” one schoolbook informs in 1913, furthermore proclaiming that states do not prosper under “negro” rule, leading naturally to the situation under which they are controlled by Europeans.69 At the same time, the Icelanders themselves are portrayed in their own history books as the best breed of the “Nordic stock.”70 Historian Unnur B. Karlsdóttir71 notes in her analysis of the eugenics movement in Iceland in the late 19th/early 20th century that the Icelandic conceptions of themselves as deriving from the most noble part of Nordic and Irish populations fitted well with the general ideology of contemporary eugenics movements. Such views of better and lesser breeds were vividly expressed in the ideas of Guðmundur Finnbogason, a professor and rector at the University of Iceland.72 In an article published in the Skírnir, which by then had become more of a scholarly journal, he claimed that the harsh Icelandic nature had weeded out the weakest of the Icelandic population and thereby improved its presumed “quality.”73 Naturally, there are also some examples of actual encounters between Icelanders and people from Africa during the 19th century. One example is a travel narrative by Sveinbjörn Egilsson about his adventures as a sailor

Imagining Blackness at the Margins

25

between 1880 and 1905. There he mentions women from South Africa, whom he met at a bar in India (from the context they seem to have been prostitutes), emphasizing especially their dark breasts and sexual availability.74Another example is a recount by Matthías Jochumsson—the lyricist of the Icelandic national anthem and one of Iceland’s most beloved 19th century poets—of an exhibition in the Chrystal Palace in London, where he had seen 50 women whom he identified as West African from Dahomey. Jochumsson states that these women were “surprisingly ugly” and had a “cruel expression” on their faces,75 thus implying that they belonged to a different spectrum of humanity than himself. When claiming that he was repulsed by the entire episode, in spite of the good military skills exhibited by these women, it seems obvious to connect his dislike of the exhibition to his racist ideas of the supposed inferiority of these women. Also, Hans Jonathan, a slave born in 1784 on the island of St Croix, which then was a Danish colony, came to Iceland in 1818, married an Icelandic woman and had two children with her.76 Although he did not arrive from Africa, his story indicates the transnational connections that Iceland was engaged in. Racist ideologies were clearly enacted later during the 20th century when, for example, after the Second World War the Icelandic government demanded that the U.S. government not station any “black” soldiers at the U.S. military base in Iceland.77 The presence of black soldiers was conceptualized as especially threatening to Icelandic women78 —which clearly reflects interwoven racist, gendered and nationalistic dimensions.

RACIAL MEANINGS IN CONTEMPORARY ICELAND The news story from 1977 that I mentioned at the beginning reemerged in Iceland at the end of January 2010 because a polar bear had been spotted in Þistilfjörður and one of the local papers, probably by coincidence, formulated the headline “Polar bear in Þistilfjörður.” Polar bears are quite unusual in Iceland even though they occasionally arrive on icebergs from Greenland. The rareness of such events probably added to the amusement of linking that story to the headline from 1977. One blogger humorously stated: Inhabitants of Þistilfjörður must have become accustomed to everything. Now, recently they received a visit from a polar bear but that makes people think about the year 1977 when a similar event took place.79 Under the text there was a scan of the 1977 news clip. Two radio show hosts were among those pointing out the similarity between the headlines. After reading the old news clipping to their audience and laughing they asked the listeners, having fi rst stated that the concept ‘negro’ is degrading and inappropriate today: “what concept can a person use, if they are describing someone, for example in [the board game] Alias?”80

26

Kristín Loftsdóttir

The question itself reflects a recent and increased engagement in Iceland with issues of multiculturalism. As earlier stated, immigration to Iceland has grown considerably and the countries of origin have become more diverse. In speeches and policy papers, the Icelandic government generally uses the term multiculturalism to address the increasing diversity in a positive way, but simultaneously puts a heavy emphasis on integration and learning the Icelandic language.81 The national curriculum, for example, affi rms equality and equal opportunities for children regardless of their ethnic background, while simultaneously describing Icelandic children and immigrant children in binary terms.82 Following the increase in the number of immigrants there have been many social disputes. However, in most of my formal interviews with “ethnic” Icelanders about their views on multiculturalism, the interviewees express concern about prejudice toward more numerous immigrant groups, such as Poles—the most numerous immigrant group in Iceland83 — but much less concern about racism based on skin color. One of the most interesting cases that address the issue of race and racism in Iceland took place in 2007 when the nursery rhyme the Ten Little Negroes was republished.84 The Icelandic version of the rhyme had fi rst been published in 1922 under the name Negrastrákarnir (The Negro-boys), and fitted the general representations of race at the time. The Icelandic illustrations for the rhyme were originally made by Muggur (his full name is Guðmundur Thorsteinsson), a respected Icelandic artist, and the poem was translated by his brother-in-law Gunnar Egilsson. Muggur stayed in Norway during summer 1916, specifically to work on pictures to go with the translation of the poem. He drew monkey-like bodies, thick red lips and bulging eyes. During a brief period the year before, Muggur had stayed in New York,85 where he did probably become familiar with such stereotypical caricatures of ”black” people. Interestingly, the republication in 2007 was perceived in a contrarian way. Some people objected to it, especially questioning why it would be published at a time when an increased number of Icelandic children have darker skin tones. Others responded forcefully to such criticisms, often calling out “political correctness” and “censorship.” For a few days almost every media outlet in Iceland was dominated by opposing viewpoints about the republishing. In my analysis of blog pages and interviews that were produced at the peak of the debate, many express the view that the book is not racist because Icelanders were not familiar with racism when it was fi rst published. An interview with one of the publishers reflects this view: “Many people are fond of this book and fi nd it beautiful. They fi nd it to be a historical and cultural treasure and for me it is impossible to connect it with racism.”86 Individuals who present such viewpoints often refer to their own feelings as an indication of the supposed innocence of the book. As the following weblog indicates: “Sorry, I think this is rather funny, I remember I had this book, and I also had little black Sambo, even the doll [ . . . ] I have never

Imagining Blackness at the Margins

27

felt any prejudice against people of another skin-color, no more than those of different hair color.”87 What is noticeable in many of the comments is that they unproblematically make reference to people of dark skin complexion as constituting a coherent group, and do not engage their own position as ‘white’ nor the legacy (especially in Iceland) of a history of racism and hegemony. While others are casually racialized the commentators fail to reflect on, or even acknowledge, their own whiteness. The refusal to see the book as racist can be explained by a need to position racism as external to Iceland and perhaps also an unwillingness to seriously engage worldwide debates of multiculturalism. Randi Marselis has pointed out that in the Nordic context racism is seldom seen as relevant and that unlike other European countries Nordic countries are not seen as having to carry the “burden of guilt.”88 In my interviews with people of African descent, most of them expressed difficulties of being accepted in Icelandic society, but generally did not see that as connected to their skin color but more to their identification as foreigners. John89 tells me that he has lived and traveled in many countries but has “never seen a country where it seems to be a general belief that, uh, people have not immigrated to settle down.” Fantu, who comes from an African country, having lived in Iceland for 20 years, similarly only refers to his experience as a foreigner when asked about prejudice and racism, but not to his skin color: “But about racism or discrimination based on race, look, we in Iceland are in many ways really lucky, if I can phrase it like that. I think there is this emphasis on justice [in Iceland] but there is still prejudice.” He concludes by stating that no one has succeeded in implanting Nazi mentality in Iceland, because most people fi nd that kind of thing distasteful. There are several possible explanations for these views. First of all, my position as a white, ethnic Icelander could have led those I interviewed to try to be polite towards me. I tried, however, to minimize this by engaging in critical conversation with those I interviewed making my own criticism of my society clearly visible. Also, possibly dual classification of these individuals could be at play as they are being socially identified as both black and foreigners. Interviews with other immigrants and non-ethnic Icelanders clearly showed that many of them felt shocked to experience themselves as reduced to immigrant others in Icelandic society. Research of policies of the nation-state90 and the national curriculum show that the distinction between ethnic-Icelanders and immigrant “Others”91 continues to be important in framing discourses about diversity in Iceland. It is also possible that for those individuals I interviewed it is somehow easier to frame racial acts against them as due to their identities as foreigners. In interviews, immigrants and foreign-born Icelanders92 all agreed that the book was racist. It was, however, interesting to me how many almost excused the republishing on the basis that Icelanders did not know better.

28 Kristín Loftsdóttir John, an African immigrant who has lived in Iceland for 15 years, states somewhat sympathetically: You know when you have a child and the child does things, you are responsible and you need to, you need to actually tell the child [ . . . ] with a soft tongue, with a soft language, with explanations [ . . . ]. I am sorry but it looks as if this Icelandic society and nation; they are on that level of maturity when it comes to understanding the world. Peter, who has lived in Iceland for 3 years with his three children and wife, all of who were born in an African country, tells me that he has never encountered racism but feels that Icelanders are “naïve” in their approach to race. As he explains, maybe it’s “because they’ve been sheltered. You know, maybe because there’s not been a huge influx of black people here and they’ve not really had to uhm . . . clash with other cultures [ . . . ].” He adds that there is the conception that Iceland has never had the problem of racism and as a consequence people feel that there is no problem with publications such as the Negro-boys. He stresses this point by asserting, “You see for Icelanders the term Negro is ‘black American.’ But they [referring to the Icelanders] don’t understand it is as suffering, death, pain, separation, and such things that are the term Negro.” Susanne,93 an African-American woman in her late 20s who has lived in Iceland for three years, recounts in an interview the reaction to her skin color in Iceland: “There is still a lot of staring and curiosity and questions [ . . . ], which is understandable because this is an island and people are used to people that are alike themselves, but I am so surprised and [ . . . ] you need to stop looking at people like they were leaving in five days.”94 Her experience of being a curiosity that is openly stared at can be seen as a reflection of attitudes that locate racism as something outside Iceland. Also note the experiences of an Icelandic mother I interviewed and her daughter who was born in Iceland. Because of the girl’s relatively dark skin, she was often mistaken for a “foreigner,” which indicates that dark skin color is often perceived as non-Icelandic. The mother tells me that her girl who is only 10 years old often does not understand why people start speaking English to her or direct her toward special activities for immigrant children who do not speak Icelandic. However, one should not over-generalize from such examples as there also are instances where people with dark skin color are seen as a part of the Icelandic nation. One example is a series of books published for children in elementary school to practice reading skills. In the illustrations in the book series The Art of Reading and Writing (Listin að lesa og skrifa), an emphasis is clearly placed on showing Icelandic children with different skin tones. These books fi rmly locate the diversity of children as part of Icelandic reality and can be seen as an attempt to deconstruct Iceland as intrinsically white.95

Imagining Blackness at the Margins

29

Being seen as the ancestor of a large and respected family, Hans Jonathan’s story—the slave from St Croix who escaped from Denmark to Iceland—also gives a more complex picture of racial perceptions in Iceland. His descendants have been carefully mapped out in a family tree and, according to a news report, in the eastern part of Iceland where he used to live it is prestigious to be his descendant.96 His descendants remember him as strong, hardworking and honest—attributes that are now seen as characteristic of the family. Though, as some of his descendants have reported, to some descendants this origin has been a sensitive subject.97 This is no doubt an interesting example of Iceland’s connections to a transnational history of slavery and a larger world of racialized relations, which simultaneously indicates that for the past couple of centuries, skin color has not always been perceived in Iceland as the most defi ning characteristic of a person. Nevertheless, the assumption that racism is something external to Iceland is perhaps most clearly demonstrated in the cavalier relationship that many Icelanders today have with terms that are seen as highly racist elsewhere in Europe. It is important to recognize that racial classifications were important in the formative years of Icelandic identity. Icelanders have thus in the past uncritically adopted racist constructions and are still today using them in historically specific ways but claiming that these uses are innocent and without historical baggage.

NOTES 1. In Icelandic: Stórfrétt . . . árið 1977—Frægasta (og besta) fyrirsögn í sögu íslenskrar fjölmiðlunar. 2. In Icelandic: Negri í Þistilfi rði. 3. Statistic Iceland, “Immigrants and Persons with Foreign Background,” Hagtíðindi Social Statistic 94, no. 4 (2009): 1–24, retrieved January 4, 2014 from https://hagstofa.is/lisalib/getfi le.aspx?ItemID=9077. 4. Statistic Iceland, 2009. 5. Statistic Iceland, “Immigrants and Persons with Foreign Background,” Hagtíðindi Social Statistic 94, no. 4 (2009): 1–24, retrieved January 6, 2014 from https://hagstofa.is/lisalib/getfile.aspx?ItemID=9077. 6. Unnur Dís Skaptadóttir and Kristín Loftsdóttir, “Cultivating Culture? Images of Iceland, Globalization and Multicultural Society,” Images of the North: Histories—Identities—Ideas, Amsterdam Studies on Cultural Identity (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2009). 7. Paul Gilroy, The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness (London and New York: Verso, 1993), esp. 3. 8. Frederick Cooper and Rogers Brubaker, Colonialism in Question: Theory, Knowledge, History (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005). 9. Ibid., 20. 10. See Michael McEachrane and Louis Faye, eds., Sverige och de Andra. Postkoloniala perspektiv (Stockholm: Natur & kultur, 2001); Suvi Keskinen, Salla Tuori, Sari Irni, and Diana Mulinari, eds., Complying with Colonialism: Gender, Race and Ethnicity in the Nordic Region (Surrey, UK: Ashgate, 2009); Serena Maurer, Kristín Loftsdóttir, and Lars Jensen, “Introduction,”

30

11.

12.

13. 14. 15.

16. 17.

18.

19.

20.

Kristín Loftsdóttir KULT 7 (2010): 1–7, retrieved June 23, 2010 from doi: http://postkolonial. dk/artikler/IntroductionNCM.pdf. Ingi Sigurðsson, “Hvernig breiddust áhrif fjölþjóðlegra hugmyndastefna út meðal Íslendinga 1830–1918,” in Ráðstefnurit I, eds. Guðmundur J. Guðmundsson and Eiríkur K. Björnsson. (Reykjavík: Sagnfræðistofnun Háskóla Íslands, Sagnfræðingafélag Íslands, 1998), 296–304; Sigríður Matthíasdóttir, “Þjóðerni og karlmennska á Íslandi við upphaf 20. Aldar,” In Þjóðerni í þúsund ár? ed. Jón.Y. Jóhannesson, Kolbeinn Ó. Proppé, and Sverrir Jakobson Reykjavík: Háskólaútgáfan, 2003, 36–64. Unnur B. Karlsdóttir, Mannkynbætur. Hugmyndir um bætta kynstofna hérlendis og erlendis á 19. og 20. Öld (Reykjavík: Háskólaútgáfan, 1998); Kristín Loftsdóttir, “Encountering Others in the Icelandic Schoolbooks: Images of Imperialism and Racial Diversity in the 19th Century,” in Opening the Mind or Drawing Boundaries? History Texts in Nordic Schools, eds. Þorsteinn Helgason and Simone Lässig (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht UniPress, 2010a); Kristín Loftsdóttir, “Shades of Otherness: Representations of Africa in 19th-Century Iceland,” Social Anthropology 16, no. 2 (2008): 172–186. Guðmundur Hálfdánarson, “Iceland: A Peaceful Secession,” Scandinavian Journal of History 25, no. 1–2 (2000): 87–100, esp. 88. See John Hartigan, Jr, “Establishing the Fact of Whiteness,” American Anthropologist 99, no. 3 (1997): 495–505, esp. 498. Michelle Fine et al., eds., Off White: Readings on Power, Privilege and Resistance (New York: Routledge, 2004), esp. ix; David R. Roediger, ed., Black on White: Black Writers on What it Means to Be White (New York: Schocken Books, 1998). John Hartigan Jr, “Establishing the Fact of Whiteness,” esp. 496. Thomas K. Nakayama and Robert L. Krizek, “Whiteness: A Strategic Rhetoric,” Quarterly Journal of Speech 81 (1995): 291–309; Kristín Lofsdóttir, “Never Forgetting? Gender and Racial—Ethnic Identity during Fieldwork,” Social Anthropology 10, no. 3 (2003): 303–317. My discussion is based on the research project Images of Africa in Iceland, and a more recent analysis of debates regarding the republishing of the nursery rhyme the Ten Little Negros in Iceland in 2007. The project Images of Africa in Iceland was funded by RANNÍS (The Icelandic Centre for Research) and the Research Fund of the University of Iceland during the years 2001–2005, analyzing, for example, 202 textbooks in history, geography, Christian education and social studies (Kristín Loftsdóttir, “Learning Differences: Nationalism, Identity and Africa in Icelandic Schoolbooks,” International Textbook Research, The Journal of the George-Eckert Institute, 29, no. 1 (2007): 5–22.). The research on the book Ten Little Negros was supported in 2009 by Developmental Fund for Immigrant Matters, run by the Ministry of Social Affairs. I have analyzed blog entries relating to the debate and had taken interviews with a diverse group of people (focus groups and individual interviews) in order to capture the different views at stake. I have interviewed Icelanders with immigrant backgrounds, “ethnic” Icelanders and individuals from several African countries. Guðbjört Guðjónsdóttir and Diana Wilson have kindly assisted me with this research. Guðrún Nordal, Sverrir Tómasson, and Vésteinn Ólason, Íslensk bókmenntasaga (Reykjavík: Háskólaútgáfan, 1992). Isidor was probably born in Caragena in 560 and the encyclopaedia Etymologiae compiled by him greatly influenced European scholars for centuries. Christopher L. Miller, Blank Darkness: Africanist Discourse in French (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1985); Christopher

Imagining Blackness at the Margins

21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28.

29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36.

37. 38. 39. 40.

41.

31

B. Steiner, “Travel Engravings and the Construction of the Primitive,” In Prehistories of the Future, eds. Elazar Barkan and Rolæand Bush (Stanford University Press, 1995), 202–225. Bergljót S. Kristjánsdóttir et al., eds., Heimskringla III: Lykilbók (Reykjavík: Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag,1991), esp. 77. John Block Friedman, The Monstrous Races in Medieval Art and Thought (New York: Syracuse University Press, 2000), esp. 5–7, 86. Francesc Relaño, The Shaping of Africa: Cosmographic Discourse and Cartographic Science in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe (Hampshire, UK: Ashgate, 2002), esp. 41. Valentin Y. Mudimbe, The Idea of Africa (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994); Hauksbók 1829–1896 (Köbenhavn: Det Kongelige Nordiske Oldskrift-Selskab, 1994). Edith R. Sanders, “The Hamitic Hypothesis: Its Origin and Functions in Time Perspective,” Journal of African History 10, no. 4 (1969): 521–532. Jordan Winthrop, “First Impressions,” in Theories of Race and Racism: A Reader, eds. Les Back and John Solomos (London and New York: Routledge, 2000), esp. 46. Jakob Benediktsson, ed., Veraldar Saga (Copenhagen: útgáfufyrirtæki, 1944), esp. 13. According to linquist Sölvi Sveinsson, the concept bláland has roots from the concept svartur (black) in indo-European languages. Sölvi Sveinsson, “Blakkur, blek, blökkumaður, blámaður, blekkja, blankur og blankuskór,” Lesbók Morgunblaðsins (February 7, 1998), retrieved August 20, 2010 from doi: http://www.mbl.is/mm/gagnasafn/grein.html?grein_id=381267. Jenny Jochens, “Þjóðir og kynþættir á fyrstu öldum Íslandsbyggðar,” Saga: Tímarit Sögufélagsins (1999): 179–217, esp. 182–183. Ibid., esp. 190. Sverrir Jakobsson, “Útlendingar á Íslandi á miðöldum,” Andvari, nýr fl okkur XLIII 126 árgangur (2001): 36–51, esp. 44. The Icelandic Riddarasaga are romantic sagas, starting with translation of French chansons de geste in the 13th century. Jónas Kristjánsson, “Inngangur,” in Viktors saga ok Blávus, ed. Jónas Kristjánsson (Reykjavík: Handritastofnun Íslands, 1964), esp. viii. Kristín Loftsdóttir, “Þriðji Sonur Nóa: Íslenskar Ímyndir Afríku Á Miðöldum,” Saga: tímarit sögufélags XLIV, no. 1 (2006): 123–151, esp 147. Audrey Smedley, “‘Race’ and the Construction of Human Identity,” American Anthropologist 100, no. 3 (1998): 690–702. Francesc Relaño, The Shaping of Africa: Cosmographic Discourse and Cartographic Science in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe (Hampshire, UK: Ashgate, 2002); Timothy Insoll, “Timbuktu and Europe: Trade Cities and Islam in ‘Medieval’ West Africa,” in The Medieval World, eds. Peter Linehan and Janet L. Nelson (London: Routledge, 2001). Benkt Sundkler and Christopher Steed, A History of the Church in Africa (Cambridge University Press, 2000), esp. 24. David Northrup, Africa’s Discovery of Europe: 1450–1850 (Oxford University Press, 2002), esp. 4–5. Francesc Relaño, 2002, esp. 52–56. Robert Thornton, “Narrative Ethnography in Africa 1850–1920: The Creation and Capture of Appropriate Domain for Anthropology,” Man 18, no. 3 (1983): 502–520; M. L. Pratt, Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation (London and New York: Routledge, 1992). Leith Mullings, “Interrogation Racism: Towards an Anti-Racist Anthropology,” Annual Review of Anthropology 34 (2005): 667–693; Zygmund

32

42.

43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49.

50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62.

Kristín Loftsdóttir Bauman, “Modernity, Racism, Extermination,” in Theories of Race and Racism: A Reader, eds. Les Back and John Salomos (London and New York: Routledge, 2000), 212–228. Michael Pickering, Stereotyping: The Politics of Representation (Hampshire, UK: Palgrave, 2001); Jan Nederveen Pietersen, White on Black: Images of Africa and Blacks in Western Popular Culture (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1992). Beau Riffenburgh, The Myth of the Explorer: The Press, Sensationalism, and Geographical Discovery (London and New York: Belhaven Press, 1993). Felix Driver, Geography Militant: Cultures of Exploration and Empire (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2001), esp. 10. Robert Thornton, “Narrative Ethnography in Africa 1850–1920: The Creation and Capture of Appropriate Domain for Anthropology,” Man 18, no. 3 (1983): 502–520, esp. 518. Laura E. Franey, Victorian Travel Writing and Imperial Violence: British Travel Writing on Africa, 1855—1902 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003). Ibid. Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Refl ections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (London: Verso, 1983). Orvar Löfgren, “Materializing the Nation in Sweden and America,” Ethnos 58, no. 3–4 (1993): 161–196; Anne B. Mangum, Refl ection of Africa in Elizabethan and Jacobean Drama and Poetry (New York: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2002). Guðmundur Hálfdánarson, “Iceland: A Peaceful Secession,” Scandinavian Journal of History 25, no. 1–2 (2000): 87–100, esp. 90. Ingi Sigurðsson, Íslensk Sagnafræði frá miðri 19. öld til miðrar 20. aldar (Reykjavík: Sagnfræðistofnun Háskóla Íslands, 1986), esp. 39. Ibid., 91. Gísli Sigurðsson, “Icelandic National Identity: From Romanticism to Tourism,” in Making Europe in Nordic Contexts, ed. Pertti. J. Anttonen (Turku: Nordic Institute of Folklore, University of Turku, 1996) esp. 42. Skírnir is still published today but has transformed into a scholarly journal publishing referred and often critical articles. Heimir Pálsson, Straumar og stefnur í íslenskum bókmenntum frá 1550, (Reykjavík: Iðunn, 1978), esp. 71; Sigurður Líndal, Hið Íslenzka Bókmenntafélag (Reykjavík: Hið Íslenzka Bókmenntafélag, 1969), esp. 20. See discussion in Ingi Sigurðsson, 1986, esp. 33–34. Kristín Loftsdóttir, “Shades of Otherness: Representations of Africa in 19thCentury Iceland,” Social Anthropology 16, no. 2 (2008): 172–186. See Kristín Loftsdóttir, “‘Pure Manliness’: The Colonial Project and Africa’s Image in 19th Century Iceland,” in Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power 16 (2009b): 271–293. See Sumarliði R. Ísleifsson, Ísland: Framandi land (Reykjavík: Mál og menning, 1996). Thomas K. Nakayama and Robert L. Krizek, “Whiteness: A Strategic Rhetoric,” Quarterly Journal of Speech 81 (1995): 291–309, esp. 299. Kristín Loftsdóttir, 2009b; Kristín Loftsdóttir, “Shades of Otherness: Representations of Africa in 19th-Century Iceland,” Social Anthropology 16, no. 2 (2008): 172–186. See discussion in Kristín Loftsdóttir, “Becoming Civilized: Iceland and the Colonial Project in the 19th Century,” KULT 7 (2010c): 41–68, retrieved June 14, 2010 from doi: http://postkolonial.dk/artikler/KL_becoming_civlised.pdf.

Imagining Blackness at the Margins

33

63. Gunnlaugur Oddson, Almenn landskipunarfræði (Kaupmannahöfn: Hið Íslenska Bókmenntafélag, 1821). 64. Gunnlaugur Oddson, Almenn landskipunarfræði (Kaupmannahöfn: Hið Íslenska Bókmenntafélag, 1821), 276. 65. Benedikt Gröndal, Landafræði löguð eptir landafræði Erslevs og samin eptir ýmsum öðrum bókum (Akureyri: Björn Jónsson, 1882). 66. Benedikt Gröndal, Landafræði löguð eptir landafræði Erslevs og samin eptir ýmsum öðrum bókum (Akureyri: Björn Jónsson prentari, 1882), esp. 260. 67. Ibid., 261. 68. In Kristín Loftsdóttir, 2009, I have discussed the representation of Africa in schoolbooks in the present, and elaborate also on this in Kristín Loftsdóttir, “Encountering Others in the Icelandic Schoolbooks: Images of Imperialism and Racial Diversity in the 19th Century,” in Opening the Mind or Drawing Boundaries? History Texts in Nordic Schools, eds. Þorsteinn Helgason and Simone Lässig (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht UniPress, 2010a). 69. In Icelandic: Engin menningarþjóð sem nokkuð kveður að er Negrakyns, og illa þrífast ríki undir stjórn Negra. Enda lúta þeir flestir Evrópumönnum; Karl Finnbogason, Landafræði handa börnum og unglingum (Reykjavík: Bókaútgáfa menningarsjóðs, 1913), esp. 110. 70. See discussion in Kristín Loftsdóttir, 2010a. 71. Unnur B. Karlsdóttir, Mannkynbætur. Hugmyndir um bætta kynstofna hérlendis og erlendis á 19. og 20. öld (Reykjavík: Háskólaútgáfan, 1998) esp. 151. 72. He was also an important advisor to the Icelandic parliament in regard to reforms on the Icelandic educational system, giving various suggestions in regard to its improvement. 73. Guðmundur Finnbogason, “Eðlisfar Íslendinga,” Skírnir (1925): 150–161. 74. Sveinbjörn Egilsson, Ferðaminningar: Frásögur frá sjóferðum víða um heim (Reykjavík: Þorsteinn M. Jónsson, 1922). 75. Matthías Jochumsson, Chicagó-för mín (Akureyri: Prentsmiðja Björns Jónssonar, 1893), esp. 103. 76. R. Marselis, “Descendants of Slaves: The Articulation of Mixed Racial Ancestry in Danish Television Documentary Series,” European Journal of Cultural Studies 11 (2008): 447–469. 77. Valur Ingimundarson, “Immunizing against the American Other: Racism, Nationalism, and Gender in U.S.-Icelandic Military Relations during the Cold War,” Journal of Cold War Studies 6, no. 4 (2004): 65–88. 78. Ibid., 69. 79. Óskar, untitled comment on Twitter (2010), retrieved February 20, 2010 from http://twitpic.com/10ak2k. 80. Alias is a recent and extremely popular board game in Iceland, where you are supposed to take turns in describing an object for others to guess its name. 81. Unnur Dís Skaptadóttir and Kristín Loftsdóttir, “Cultivating Culture? Images of Iceland, Globalization and Multicultural Society,” in Images of the North: Histories—Identities—Ideas, Amsterdam Studies on Cultural Identity, ed. Sverrir Jakobssen (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2009). 82. Kristín Loftsdóttir, “Margbreytileiki og fjölmenningarlegt samfélag í námsbókum: Sýn aðalnámskrár grunnskóla og gátlista Námsgagnastofnunar,” Uppeldi og menntun 18, no. 2 (2010b): 35–51. 83. Mannfjöldi, 2009. 84. The rhymes were presumably originally written by Frank J. Green in 1864, then probably adapted from even an earlier version about the Ten Little

34

85.

86. 87.

88. 89. 90.

91. 92.

93. 94. 95. 96.

97.

Kristín Loftsdóttir Indians. J. N. Pietersen, White on Black: Images of Africa and Blacks in Western Popular Culture (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1992), esp. 167. Poul Uttenreitter, Guðmundur Thorsteinsson (Köbenhavn: Henrik Kobbels Forlag, 1930), esp. 31; Jordan Winthrop, “First Impressions,” in Theories of Race and Racism: A Reader eds. Les Back and John Solomos (London and New York: Routledge, 2000), esp. 31. See interview by Róbert Hlynur Baldursson, “Negrastrákarnir á toppi metsölulistans,” DV (October 31, 2007), retrieved November 2, 2007 from http:// www.dv.is/fréttir/lesa/2078. Ragnhildur, “Sorry, mér finnst þetta eiginlega . . . ” Comment on the blog entry 10 litlir negrastrákar (October 23, 2007), retrieved November 11, 2007 from http://fridaeyland.blog.is/blog/fridaeyland/entry/345575/. See also: Loftsdóttir, Kristín.” Republishing ‘Ten Little Negros’: Exloring Nationalism and Whiteness in Iceland.“ 2013. Ethnicities, 13, no. 3 (2013): 295–315. R. Marselis, 2008, esp. 463. All names of interviewed people have been changed in the text. Þorgerður Einarsdóttir and Guðný Gústafsdóttir, “Innflytjendastefna ríkistjórnarinnar í ljósi þegnréttar og kyngervis,” in Rannsóknir í Félagsvísindum IX, eds. Gunnar Þór Jóhannesson and Helga Björnsdóttir (Reykjavík: Háskólaútgáfan, 2008), 345–356. Kristín Loftsdóttir, “Margbreytileiki og fjölmenningarlegt samfélag í námsbókum: Sýn aðalnámskrár grunnskóla og gátlista Námsgagnastofnunar,” Uppeldi og menntun 18, no. 2 (2010b): 35–51. This article bases on interviews with 41 individuals, some in focus groups. Of those, 27 have been Icelandic, 7 have been immigrants from Europe or North America socially classified as “white”, and 7 socially classified as “black” (or in one case the parent of a child socially classified as “black”). As pointed out by Lena Sawyer, using racial classification to categorize and identify subjects interviewed can “contribute to the production of racial meanings” (Lena Sawyer, “Routings: ‘Race,’ African Diasporas and Swedish Belonging,” Transforming Anthropology 11, no. 1 (2002): 13–35, esp.14). Classification of individuals is, however, a social reality even though not a biological one, and as such it has to be engaged with. In all interviews quoted, individuals have been given pseudonyms. Interview taken, 2009. See discussion in Kristín Loftsdóttir, “The Diversified Iceland: Identity and Multicultural Societies in Icelandic Schoolbooks,” in Nordic Identities under Change, ed. Staffan Selander (Oslo: Novus Press, 2009a), 239–260. Elín Pálmadóttir, “Þrælaeyjar,” Morgunblaðið (January 9, 1994), 1–5. Kristín Loftsdóttir and Gísli Pálsson, ”Black on White: Danish Colonialism, Iceland and the Carabean,” in Scandinavian Colonialism and the Rise of Modernity, eds. Magdalena Naum and Jonas Nordin (New York: Springer, 37–52). R. Marselis, 2008, esp. 458.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Refl ections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London: Verso, 1983. Baldursson, Róbert Hlynur. “Negrastrákarnir á toppi metsölulistans.” DV (October 31, 2007). Retrieved November 2, 2007 from http://www.dv.is/fréttir/lesa/2078.

Imagining Blackness at the Margins

35

Bauman, Zygmund. “Modernity, Racism, Extermination.” In Theories of Race and Racism: A Reader, edited by Les Back and John Salomos, 212–228. London and New York: Routledge, 2000. Benediktsson, Jakob, ed. Veraldar Saga. Copenhagen: útgáfufyrirtæki, 1944. Cooper, Frederick, and Rogers Brubaker. Colonialism in Question: Theory, Knowledge, History. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005. Driver, Felix. Geography Militant: Cultures of Exploration and Empire. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2001. Egilsson, Sveinbjörn. Ferðaminningar: Frásögur frá sjóferðum víða um heim. Reykjavík: Þorsteinn M. Jónsson, 1922. Einarsdóttir, Þorgerður, and Guðný Gústafsdóttir. “Innflytjendastefna ríkistjórnarinnar í ljósi þegnréttar og kyngervis.” In Rannsóknir í Félagsvísindum IX, edited by Gunnar Þór Jóhannesson and Helga Björnsdóttir, 345–356. Reykjavík: Háskólaútgáfan, 2008. Fine, Michelle, Lois Weis, Linda Powell Pruitt, and April Burns, eds. Off White: Readings on Power, Privilege and Resistance. New York: Routledge, 2004. Finnbogason, Guðmundur. “Eðlisfar Íslendinga.” Skírnir (1925): 150–161. Finnbogason, Karl. Landafræði handa börnum og unglingum. Reykjavík: Bókaútgáfa menningarsjóðs, 1913. Franey, Laura E. Victorian Travel Writing and Imperial Violence: British Travel Writing on Africa, 1855–1902. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003. Frankenberg, Ruth. White Women, Race Matters: The Social Construction of Whiteness. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993. Friedman, John Block. The Monstrous Races in Medieval Art and Thought. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2000. Gilroy, Paul. The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness. London and New York: Verso, 1993. Gröndal, Benedikt. Landafræði löguð eptir landafræði Erslevs og samin eptir ýmsum öðrum bókum. Akureyri: Björn Jónsson prentari, 1882. Hair, Paul E. H. “Attitudes to Africans in English Primary Sources on Guinea up to 1650.” History in Africa 26 (1999): 44–45. Hálfdanarson, Guðmundur. “Iceland: A Peaceful Secession.” Scandinavian Journal of History 25, no. 1–2 (2000): 87–100. Hartigan, John, Jr. “Establishing the Fact of Whiteness.” American Anthropologist, 99, no. 3 (1997): 495–505. Hauksbók 1829–1896. Köbenhavn: Det Kongelige Nordiske Oldskrift-Selskab. Hutchinson, John. Modern Nationalism. London: Fontana Press, 1994. Ingimundarson, Valur. “Immunizing against the American Other: Racism, Nationalism, and Gender in U.S.-Icelandic Military Relations during the Cold War.” Journal of Cold War Studies 6, no. 4 (2004): 65–88. Insoll, Timothy. “Timbuktu and Europe: Trade Cities and Islam in ‘Medieval’ West Africa.” In The Medieval World, edited by Peter Linehan and Janet L. Nelson. London: Routledge, 2001. Ísleifsson, Sumarliði R. Ísland: Framandi land. Reykjavík: Mál og menning, 1996. Jacobson, Matthew Frye. Whiteness of a Different Color: European Immigrants and the Alchemy of Race. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998. Jochumsson, Matthías. Chicagó-för mín. Akureyri: Prentsmiðja Björns Jónssonar, 1893. Karlsdóttir, Unnur B. Mannkynbætur. Hugmyndir um bætta kynstofna hérlendis og erlendis á 19. og 20. öld. Reykjavík: Háskólaútgáfan, 1998. Kaspin, Deborah D. “Conclusion: Signifying Power in Africa.” In Images and Empires: Visuality in Colonial and Postcolonial Africa, edited by Paul S. Landau and Deborah D. Kaspin, 320–335. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002.

36

Kristín Loftsdóttir

Keskinen, Suvi, Salla Tuori, Sari Irni, and Diana Mulinari. Complying with Colonialism: Gender, Race and Ethnicity in the Nordic Region. Surrey, UK: Ashgate, 2009. Kirkegaard, Annemette. “Questioning the Origins of the Negative Image of Africa in Medieval Europe.” In Encountering Images in the Meetings between Africa and Europe, edited by Mai Palmberg, 20–36. Uppsala: Nordic Africa Institute, 2001. Kristjánsdóttir, Bergljót S., Bragi Halldórsson, Jón Torfason, Örnólfur Thorsson, eds. Heimskringla III: Lykilbók. Reykjavík: Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag, 1991. Kristjánsson, Jónas. “Inngangur.” In Viktors saga ok Blávus, edited by Jónas Kristjánsson. Reykjavík: Handritastofnun Íslands, 1964. Líndal, Sigurður. Hið Íslenzka Bókmenntafélag. Reykjavík: Hið Íslenzka Bókmenntafélag, 1969. Líndal, Sigurður. “Ísland og umheimurinn.” In Saga Íslands 1, edited by Sigurður Líndal, 210–213. Reykjavík: Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag—Sögufélagið, 1974. Löfgren, Orvar. “Materializing the Nation in Sweden and America.” Ethnos 58 no. 3–4 (1993): 161–196. Loftsdóttir, Kristín.” Republishing ‘Ten Little Negros’: Exploring Nationalism and Whiteness in Iceland.“ 2013. Ethnicities, 13, no. 3 (2013): 295–315. “Becoming Civilized: Iceland and the Colonial Project in the 19th Century.” KULT 7 (2010c): 41–68. Retrieved January 6, 2014 from http://postkolonial. dk/artikler/KL_becoming_civlised.pdf. . “The Diversified Iceland: Identity and Multicultural Societies in Icelandic Schoolbooks.” In Nordic Identities under Change, edited by Staffan Selander, 239–260. Oslo: Novus Press, 2009a. . “Encountering Others in the Icelandic Schoolbooks: Images of Imperialism and Racial Diversity in the 19th Century.” In Opening the Mind or Drawing Boundaries? History Texts in Nordic Schools, edited by Þorsteinn Helgason and Simone Lässig. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht UniPress, 2010a. . “Learning Differences: Nationalism, Identity and Africa in Icelandic Schoolbooks.” International Textbook Research, The Journal of the GeorgeEckert Institute 29, no. 1 (2007): 5–22. . “Margbreytileiki og fjölmenningarlegt samfélag í námsbókum: Sýn aðalnámskrár grunnskóla og gátlista Námsgagnastofnunar.” Uppeldi og menntun 18, no. 2 (2010b): 35–51. . “‘Pure Manliness’: The Colonial Project and Africa’s Image in 19th Century Iceland.” Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power 16 (2009b): 271–293. . “Shades of Otherness: Representations of Africa in 19th-Century Iceland.” Social Anthropology 16, no. 2 (2008): 172–186. Kristín Loftsdóttir and Gísli Pálsson, ”Black on White: Danish Colonialism, Iceland and the Caribbean,” in Scandinavian Colonialism and the Rise of Modernity, edited by Magdalena Naum and Jonas Nordin, 37–52. New York: Springer, 2013). Mangum, Anne B. Refl ection of Africa in Elizabethan and Jacobean Drama and Poetry. New York: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2002. Mannfjöldi (Statistics Iceland). “Immigrants and Persons with Foreign Background 1996–2008.” Mannfjöldi 2009 94, no. 4 (2009): 1–24. Matthíasdóttir, Sigríður. “Þjóðerni og karlmennska á Íslandi við upphaf 20 aldar.” In Þjóðerni í þúsund ár? edited by Jón Y. Jóhannesson, Kolbeinn Ó. Proppé and Sverrir Jakobson. Reykjavík: Háskólaútgáfan, 2003.

Imagining Blackness at the Margins

37

Miller, Christopher L. Blank Darkness: Africanist Discourse in French. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1985. Moore, Henrietta L. A Passion for Difference: Essays in Anthropology and Gender. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994. Mudimbe, Valentin Y. The Idea of Africa. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994. Mullings, Leith. “Interrogation Racism: Towards an Anti-Racist Anthropology.” Annual Review of Anthropology 34 (2005): 667–693. Nakayama, Thomas K., and Robert L. Krizek. “Whiteness: A Strategic Rhetoric.” Quarterly Journal of Speech 81 (1995): 291–309. Nordal, Guðrún, Sverrir Tómasson, and Vésteinn Ólason. Íslensk bókmenntasaga. Reykjavík: Háskólaútgáfan, 1992. Northrup, David. Africa’s Discovery of Europe: 1450–1850. Oxford University Press, 2002. Oddson, Gunnlaugur. Almenn landskipunarfræði. Kaupmannahöfn: Hið Íslenska Bókmenntafélag, 1821. Óskar. Untitled comment on Twitter. Retrieved February 20, 2010 from http://twitpic.com/10ak2k. Pálmadóttir, Elín. “Þrælaeyjar.” Morgunblaðið 1–5, January 9, 1994. Pálsson, Heimir. Straumar og stefnur í íslenskum bókmenntum frá 1550. Reykjavík: Iðunn, 1978. Pickering, Michael. Stereotyping: The Politics of Representation. Hampshire, UK: Palgrave, 2001. Pietersen, Jan Nederveen. White on Black: Images of Africa and Blacks in Western Popular Culture. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 1992. Potter, Jonathan. “Discourse Analysis as a Way of Analysing Naturally Occurring Talk.” In Qualitative Research, edited by David Silverman, 144–160. London: Sage, 1997. Pratt, Marie Louise. Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation. London and New York: Routledge, 1992. . “Women, Literature and National Brotherhood.” In Women, Culture, and Politics in Latin America: Seminar on Feminism and Culture in Latin America, edited by Emelie Bergmann, 48–73. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990. Ragnhildur. “Sorry, mér fi nnst þetta eiginlega . . . ” Comment on the blog entry 10 litlir negrastrákar, posted October 23, 2007. Retrieved October 23, 2007 from http://fridaeyland.blog.is/blog/.fridaeyland/entry/345575/. Relaño, Francesc. The Shaping of Africa: Cosmographic Discourse and Cartographic Science in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe. Hampshire, UK: Ashgate, 2002. Riffenburgh, Beau. The Myth of the Explorer: The Press, Sensationalism, and Geographical Discovery. London and New York: Belhaven Press, 1993. Sanders, Edith R. The Hamitic Hypothesis: Its Origin and Functions in Time Perspective. Journal of African History 10, no. 4 (1969): 521–532. Sawyer, Lena. “Routings: ‘Race,’ African Diasporas and Swedish Belonging.” Transforming Anthropology 11, no. 1 (2002): 13–35. Sigurðsson, Gísli. “Icelandic National Identity: From Romanticism to Tourism.” In Making Europe in Nordic Contexts, edited by Pertti J. Anttonen. Turku: Nordic Institute of Folklore, University of Turku, 1996. Sigurðsson, Ingi. “Hvernig breiddust áhrif fjölþjóðlegra hugmyndastefna út meðal Íslendinga 1830–1918? Ráðstefnurit I.” In Reykjavík, Sagnfræðistofnun Háskóla Íslands, edited by Guðmundur J. Guðmundsson and Eiríkur K. Björnsson, 296–304. Reykyavik: Sagnfræðingafélag Íslands, 1998. Sigurðsson, Ingi. Íslensk Sagnafræði frá miðri 19. öld til miðrar 20. aldar. Reykjavík: Sagnfræðistofnun Háskóla Íslands, 1986.

38 Kristín Loftsdóttir Simek, Rudolf. Heaven and Earth in the Middle Ages: The Physical World before Columbus. Woodbridge, UK: Boydell Press, 1992 [English translation published in 1996]. Skaptadóttir, Unnur Dís, and Kristín Loftsdóttir. “Cultivating Culture? Images of Iceland, Globalization and Multicultural Society.” In Images of the North: Histories—Identities—Ideas, edited by Sverrir Jakobsson, 205–216. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2009. Smedley, Audrey. “‘Race’ and the Construction of Human Identity.” American Anthropologist 100, no. 3 (1998): 690–702. Statistic Iceland 2009. Immigrants and Persons with Foreign Background. Hagtíðindi Social Statistic 94, no. 4:1–24. Retrieved February 20, 2010 from https://hagstofa.is/lisalib/getfi le.aspx?ItemID=9077. Stoler, Laura Ann. Race and the Education of Desire: Foucault’s History of Sexuality and the Colonial Order of Things. Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 1995. . “Rethinking Colonial Categories: European Communities and the Boundaries of Rule.” In Colonialism and Culture, edited by Nicholas B. Dirks, 319– 352. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1992. Sturluson, Snorri. “Heimskringla.” Síðara bindi. Reykjavík: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag 1991. Sundkler, Bengt and Christopher Steed. A History of the Church in Africa. Cambridge University Press, 2000. Sveinsson, Sölvi. “Blakkur, blek, blökkumaður, blámaður, blekkja, blankur og blankuskór.” Lesbók Morgunblaðsins (February 7, 1998). Retrieved August 20, 2010 from http://www.mbl.is/mm/gagnasafn/grein.html?grein_id=381267. Thornton, Robert. “Narrative Ethnography in Africa 1850–1920: The Creation and Capture of Appropriate Domain for Anthropology.” Man 18, no. 3 (1983): 502–520. Uttenreitter, Paul. Guðmundur Thorsteinsson. Köbenhavn: Henrik Koppels Forlag, 1930. Winthrop Jordan. “First Impressions.” In Theories of Race and Racism: A Reader, edited by Les Back and John Solomos. London and New York: Routledge, 2000. Wood, Linda A., and Rolf O. Kroger. Doing Discourse Analysis: Methods for Studying Action in Talk and Texts. London: Sage Publications, 2000.

2

Queendom On Being Black, Feminist Norwegian Women madeleine kennedy-macfoy

At www.queendom.no, visitors are bid “welcome to the new face of Scandinavia, welcome to Queendom.” Founded in 1999, Queendom is the fi rst performing arts collective of its kind in Norway, in that it was founded by and is made up of, a group of women who identify as “black Norwegian women.” By making use of their personal experiences as black, Norwegian women, their performances are an eclectic mix that is both “socially aware and entertaining.” This chapter is about the experiences and views of three members of Queendom, and their role as activist-artists, whose aim is to challenge current popular and political understandings of what it means to be Norwegian. The chapter mainly draws on interviews conducted with three of the group’s members. During the interviews, these group members highlighted racism and gender as key themes in their lives, from which they drew inspiration for much of the material in their performances.1 They talked about gender and racism as separate themes, but they also “told a story” about the relationship between the two, highlighting the particular ways in which “race” and gender intersected and impacted on their struggles to be “recognised as belonging to the fauna of Norway.”2 Whereas issues of racism may be a relatively new feature on the discursive landscapes of Norway, gender equality and the women’s movements have a long and illustrious history.3 It is, therefore, not surprising to fi nd that the issue of women’s position in society is a central concern for a Norwegian activist performance group such as Queendom. What is of particular interest here, is what the group members said about their experiences of being located at their particular intersections of “race” and gender, and what this means for their identities as Norwegians. In feminist scholarship and activism over the last twenty years, the concept of “intersectionality” has become increasingly important, in the attempt to address grievances, to build bridges and to push the boundaries of feminism so as to include more, if not all, women. This is following a strong and sustained critique, dating back to the early 1970s, from black feminists, working class feminists, feminists of color and lesbian feminists. These critical voices pointed out that western feminism did not only ignore the issues that were central in the lives of women who were not white,

40 madeleine kennedy-macfoy middle class or heterosexual, but that it also reproduced the racism, class bias and homophobia that prevailed in western societies.4 As I discuss below in the second section, Queendom’s approach to addressing the “race”-ethnicity-gender nexus presents an interesting example of intersectionality in action. The third section consists of a more detailed discussion of the group members’ views on, and experiences of, racism in Norway, and how this is linked to their gender. For now, I will make some preliminary remarks on the operation of “race” and racializing processes in Norway, in order to contextualize the subsequent sections.

‘RACE’ AND RACISM IN NORWAY A commonly held view of Norway and the other Nordic countries (both nationally and internationally) is that they are not affected by racism in quite the same way as other Western countries. There are a number of reasons for this, the most relevant of which is the fact that until the last twenty to thirty years, the Nordic region—perhaps most especially the Scandinavian countries of Denmark, Norway and Sweden—tended to be represented as ethnically homogeneous. It is important to note that this imagined Scandinavian/Nordic community frequently excluded the Saami populations in the region, who were the largest (though not the only) ethnic minority.5 Consequently, the perception is that racism did not figure to any great extent in the region prior to the arrival of immigrants. According to the social anthropologist Marianne Gullestad, racism and racialized thinking in Norway are generally exclusively associated with Nazi ideology, apartheid in South Africa and the segregationist laws of the southern states of America.6 On this view, Norwegians tend to think of racism as an extremist phenomenon, which is the sole preserve of the kinds of perverse ideologies that: a) did not have their origins in the Nordic region; and b) are considered repugnant and outmoded, and alien to the progressive policies that are the norm in most European countries at the start of the twenty-fi rst century. That racism tends to be associated with such extremist political projects may in part be explained by the dominant view in Norway that “race” exclusively refers to the belief in a scientific (biological) hierarchy of human types, which has been conclusively discredited.7 This means that there tends to be a disavowal of the ways in which “race”-consciousness may be re-produced in society.8 Likewise, skin color, culture and ethnicity tend to be viewed as neutral descriptors that have no links to “race” (either materially or analytically).9 Another important reason why Norwegians tend not to associate racism with their own society may be linked to the country’s experiences of colonization. Norway was ruled by Denmark for 400 years, and was then in a union with Sweden between 1814 and 1905.10 Accordingly, Norway is usually positioned outside of Europe’s history of colonization, and is generally viewed as itself an erstwhile victim of Danish colonialism. It is important to

Queendom

41

note, however, that prior to being ruled by Denmark, Norway “owned” the dependencies of Iceland, Greenland, the Faroe Islands, Orkney and Shetland. In addition, after Denmark and Norway were formally united in 1536, Denmark-Norway, as the territory was then known, held colonized territories in India, the Caribbean and Africa.11 The question of whether Norway can be viewed as not having participated in colonial exploitation is, therefore, not as straightforward as it might initially appear. As several contributions to this anthology demonstrate, there is an emerging Nordic post-colonial critique of the generalized view of Nordic exceptionalism in relation to European colonialism. This critique takes a hard look at the Nordic countries’ claims of “colonial innocence,” and argues that they have in fact been complicit, and in some cases directly involved, in the colonial projects of other European countries.12 Indeed, it almost goes without saying that all of the Nordic countries “participated at least in the acceptance of the hegemonic view of the world and partly in the contributions to the making of that world view.”13 Nordic post-colonial critique offers a nuanced understanding of how countries in the Nordic region were historically positioned in relation to colonial domination by other European countries. Accordingly, one must look beyond general discourses about Nordic countries in this regard, and consider other ways that they may have been implicated in, involved in, and beneficiaries of colonialism, even without having been “colonial powers” in the mould of countries like the United Kingdom, Spain or Belgium, for example. Once this colonial complicity is recognized, one can more easily grasp the complexities of how “race” and ethnicity operate as central signifiers in a country like Norway, where “the ostensible absence of race . . . is coupled with constructions of difference and national belonging that centrally rely on phenotype to determine relative Norwegianness.”14 Another relevant aspect of the emerging Nordic post-colonial critique is that it centralizes racism, and racializing processes. By recognizing the role played by the region in the colonial projects of the past, we are able to see how and why racism is so easily externalized from the consciousness of the majority populations, and from political and academic discourses. Arguably, this denial of “race” as a Norwegian issue is also linked to the homogenizing tendency that is prevalent in Nordic countries.15 As Gullestad has shown, the Norwegian national self-image is fi rmly anchored to the notion of egalitarianism. According to the logic of the Norwegian brand of egalitarianism, in order for “ordinary people” to feel that they are of equal value, they must fi rst feel that they are more or less the same. Equality is most commonly translated as likhet in Norwegian, and it means “similarity” or “sameness.” In a Norwegian context, as Gullestad sees it, an “imagined sameness” is a necessary prerequisite for equality between individuals and groups. As differences (of class, gender, sexual orientation etc.) between Norwegians have to be downplayed in order for this type of egalitarianism to work, differences between Norwegians and immigrants and their descendants16 “have become discursively salient.”17 In order to assert their belonging “to the fauna of Norway,” Norwegian “Others”

42

madeleine kennedy-macfoy

thus need to disrupt the ingrained narrative of an imagined homogeneous national community. This is precisely the type of disruption that Queendom’s particular brand of activist artistry exemplifies.

A FEMINIST QUEENDOM: “WE ARE ALL WOMEN THAT WORK FOR WOMEN TO BE BETTER WOMEN” “Black women’s activism does not just happen spontaneously, but is the result of painstaking analysis about the nature of socio-economic inequalities, the intersection of racism, gender and class and the means of social change.18 In the Queendom Manifesto, published on their website, the group takes a clear stand on gender-based subjugation, stating in the second item on the Manifesto that: “Queendom is against all forms of oppression of women.”19 Gender also featured as a central theme in the interviews that I conducted with the three group members. When responding to a question about whether Queendom could or should be considered as a feminist collective, one group member stated that being a feminist derived “naturally” from the fact that she is a woman. She felt that the group was “naturally feminist” for the same reason: I’ve had struggles with this word feminism because for me, I’ve grown up in Norway, I’ve grown up the way that I have, but feminism is just: if you’re a woman, you should be a feminist! It’s a natural thing, it isn’t just a political thing to work towards equality of the sexes . . . I would say that Queendom is a feminist project, but it’s a natural thing for us. Just like its natural . . . that everything we do has a political message. It’s such a natural [part] of what we do, all of us, everyday, all the time. Here, Norway’s history of feminist activism is invoked by the speaker, who links her identity as a feminist to the fact that she has grown up in Norway. Norway does have a long history of feminist and women’s activism, which has led to the institutionalization of gender equality. For example, Norway was the third country in the world to grant women the equal right to vote in 1913, and it has some of the best legal provisions securing parents’ rights to parental leave in the world. Indeed, there is some sense in which gender equality has become so embedded within Norwegian national identity, as to be considered a national value (in general public opinion and in political discourses alike).20 Drawing on this aspect of Norwegian feminist and women’s movements histories, and on the fact that she is a woman, this member of Queendom “naturalizes” her identity as a feminist, suggesting that for her, the particular label of “feminist” is almost superfluous. Hence her statement: “I’ve had struggles with the word feminist . . . ” Using the term “political”

Queendom

43

to broadly refer to struggles over power relations, equity and justice, she also intimates that being political comes naturally to the group, and that political consciousness is part of their everyday lives and experiences. Another group member framed these points in a slightly different way: Sometimes it’s as simple as: all artists use their life experience when they make art. Our life experience, as black minority in a white country, is different from the white Norwegian experience. So, when we tell our stories, it seems political to them, but I am just telling the story of my life . . . this is the way Norway is. So it means that my reality is just as much a part of Norway and Norwegian history . . . This and the previous statement, when taken together, tell us something about the paradoxical position in which the members of Queendom find themselves as minority black female activists in a majority white country. On the one hand, as the speaker says in the fi rst quote, standing up for women’s rights is (because of their cultural, Norwegian upbringing) seen by the group as something normal and as an obvious choice in ensuring that “everything [they] do has a political message.” Being an activist for women’s rights is to a large extent mainstream, normalized and culturally accepted. On the other hand, the second speaker tells us that although it would seem unremarkable for them as a female performance group to draw on their own lived experiences as women, telling the story of their lives as minority women stands out as politically controversial and out of the ordinary. In the United Kingdom, British African Caribbean author Courttia Newland has noted that for black writers in a societal context where “it’s not an asset to be black,” every act of writing or of participation in public life means that such writers are “being political whether [they] like it or not.”21 Queendom are committed to the political nature of the stand that they take. Stating, as the second speaker does, that their “reality is just as much a part of Norway and Norwegian history” as anyone else’s, is not merely a personal avowal; it is a willfully political act. This is a position in tune with the iconic feminist slogan: “the personal is political.”22 The slogan is often evoked as a crucial contribution from feminism, which made explicit the fact that everything that is relegated to the private or domestic sphere is also political. Here, though, it is used intersectionally to highlight how recounting an experience of being a black minority woman in a white majority country is merely the life story of a Norwegian woman, and simultaneously the political act of locating that life within discourses, policies and routine acts of exclusion and denial. As normalized as many feminist concerns may have become in Norway—which is, of course debatable—the group still calls for an expansion of the country’s political consciousness to also include minority women like themselves. Such an expansion would both acknowledge the particular situations and experiences of Norwegian minority women and affi rm

44

madeleine kennedy-macfoy

the common human rights and dignity of any and every woman. On their Manifesto, the group state that: “Queendom is against all forms of oppression of women. We see no contradiction in being concerned about the use of language, words and expressions—as well as being concerned with forced marriage, female genital mutilations and other violations of women’s human rights. 23 It is important to note the specific ways in which the issues of forced marriage and female genital mutilation (FGM) arise in the Norwegian context. As elsewhere in Europe, the real or imagined figure of “the immigrant woman” represents the traditional, non-liberal, non-white Other, bound by her backward culture. She is juxtaposed to the modern, liberal, white (Norwegian) Self, who epitomizes the pinnacle of gendered liberation and equality. 24 The immigrant Others’ position outside of the nation is underlined by the unequal gender relations that purportedly characterize “their culture,” as opposed to an inherently gender equal national culture. 25 By highlighting FGM and forced marriage as issues for concern, Queendom also signal a concern for the plight of “the immigrant woman.” However, it is a concern that challenges the dominant view of this figure, since the group acknowledges the processes of racialized Othering that take place in Norway. As their Manifesto further states: Queendom is concerned about the responsibility of the media—the way one describes “the others” also creates attitudes towards “the others.” We believe many journalists show little awareness about their role (in this matter) and often contribute towards the creation of a one-sided image of people from other parts of the world. The group’s concern for “the immigrant woman” is mediated by a concern with the power of media representations of “the others,” and more generally, for how gender, “race” and ethnicity come to be entwined in Norway. As one group member put it during the interview: The other issue for us has been combating stereotypes, especially concerning Africans in general and African women in particular; because all the stereotypes are still alive and kicking today, in the media and in people’s minds. So if you say ‘African woman’ or you say . . . “minority woman” or if you say “immigrant woman,” what do they see? They see veil, they see somebody subdued, they start thinking about FGM, or it’s the opposite [exotic/erotic sex siren] stereotype. So, our perspective has been to combat the stereotypes, to break it down to say: “We are all individuals.”

Queendom

45

The same group member underlined the fact that since the group started in 1999, they have been creating performances through which they have sought to shed a “light on [and get] acknowledgement for black women’s presence in Norway; it was [about] seeing the world from our perspective as black women.” It would be all too easy to dismiss this perspective as divisive and antagonizing, vis-à-vis the majority Norwegian population. However, in exposing what it means to be a black woman, and more generally a minority in Norway, Queendom’s message is clearly not intended to cause polarization or separation between different communities. Rather, their art is an invitation to acknowledge and understand different experiences of living in Norway and of being Norwegian. As Audre Lorde put it: When we defi ne ourselves, when I defi ne myself, the place in which I am like you and the place in which I am not like you, I’m not excluding you from the joining—I’m broadening the joining. 26 Such a broadening of the joining should be seen as no less than a necessity if Norway is to live up to its reputation as an egalitarian, liberal, welfare democracy. Being “Norwegian” in the sense of being a full-fledged and equal Norwegian citizen needs, on the one hand, to be disassociated from ethnicity and race, and on the other hand, to be ethnically and racially inclusive. One could, in a sense, speak of a need for a transnational conception of citizenship. The members of Queendom embody and give voice to such transnationality. Of the original group line up, four members have one Norwegian parent and one parent from the Gambia, Nigeria, Uganda and Trinidad and Tobago, respectively; whilst one member was born in Ethiopia and adopted into a Norwegian family as a young child.27 As female subjects whose bodies and politics traverse and connect different geographical and discursive locations, Queendom’s members embody transnationality. In addition, they also enact a transnational feminism through their work. For instance, highlighting the issues of FGM and forced marriage in a Western context shows an awareness of the complex ways in which the global is implicated in the local, and vice versa, in immigrant women’s lives. Such transnational feminist awareness is invaluable in a Norwegian context where, pioneering advances in gender equality notwithstanding, the issues affecting immigrant women’s lives have tended to be erased from the concerns of mainstream or majority Norwegian women’s movements. 28 Queendom have created for themselves the kind of marginal space that Stuart Hall has written about, which emerges as an alternative space of power for those who are ordinarily relegated to the margins of contemporary Western societies. In Hall’s own words: The emergence of new subjects, new genders, new ethnicities, new regions, new communities, hitherto excluded from the major forms of

46

madeleine kennedy-macfoy cultural representation, unable to locate themselves except as decentred or subaltern, have acquired through struggle, sometimes in very marginalized ways, the means to speak for themselves for the fi rst time..29

In a more traditional vein of feminist praxis, Queendom have also created a space in which a group of women can be themselves and give voice to the need for women to take charge of their lives; as one group member put it: On a more general, feminist level [Queendom is also about] creating a space for us as women where we can be creative, and we can produce, and be the decision-makers [about] what it is that we perform. Queendom is a place where the Queens rule! Sometimes we say that all women can fi nd their own personal Queendom, which is that space, and it doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to join a group, but it’s your own personal space within as well, where you love yourself the way that you are . . . so it’s like some of those basic women things . . . just accepting yourself the way you are. Carol Hanisch explained in her seminal article “The Personal is Political” that women’s consciousness-raising groups were not, contrary to much of public opinion about them, therapy groups, but a valid and necessary form of political action. Likewise, the speaker tells us here that as a group of and for women, Queendom represents a creative and productive space, within which the group formulate their art and their politics on their own terms (“Queendom is a place where the Queens rule!”). Queendom is also a real and imagined discursive space, in which women are able to achieve personal fulfilment (“all women can fi nd their own personal Queendom”). How gender and “race” intersect has been central to Queendom’s concerns. In her discussion of some of the potential limitations within feminist scholarship on intersectionality, Gail Lewis has pointed out that the key to constructive feminist intersectional thinking lies in foregrounding the political dimension. This forces us to look closely at “which set of categories are brought into alliance and with what political agenda in mind.”30 This is precisely what makes Queendom’s type of activist art interesting for feminist understandings of intersectionality. Queendom make clear which intersecting categories (gender and “race”) impact most significantly on their lives in the Norwegian context, and they locate this within a broader political agenda, which is focused on pushing the boundaries of who can and should be included within the Norwegian national community. Lewis argues further that working intersectionally is beneficial because it simultaneously involves oppressive structures and embodied points of view, both the rhetorics of public discourses and institutions and those of minority “voices.” Not least, “it facilitates a form of feminist enquiry that aims to, and is capable of, capturing the complexity and multiplicity of axes of oppression.”31 Although not a form of feminist enquiry, Queendom’s work

Queendom

47

exemplifies the dimensions of successful intersectional feminist praxis laid out by Lewis. As a performance group, Queendom manages to reach audiences that are not necessarily confronted with issues they might read about in newspapers or academic texts or hear about in political debates. However, through the performance of their music and comedy skits, the group ensures that audiences are entertained and simultaneously present them with the serious (gendered and racialized) reality of what it means to be “different” in Norway. This is clearly a winning “formula,” since Queendom is very well known and successful across Norway. To date, they have produced a number of comedy shows and a television mini-series; they have written a book; and they continue to tour regularly around Norway and internationally. In 2008, Queendom was awarded the prestigious Oslo City’s Artists’ Award.

AN ANTI-RACIST QUEENDOM: “YOU DELETE US FROM OUR OWN HISTORY OF BEING HERE: DON’T DO THAT!” According to statistics recorded in January 2009, there are 423 000 immigrants and 86 000 Norwegian-born persons with immigrant parents in Norway, representing 10.6 per cent of the country’s total population. Immigrants and Norwegian-born persons with immigrant parents are represented in all Norwegian municipalities. Oslo has the largest proportion with 26 per cent, or 152 000 people.32 Marianne Gullestad has argued that in the Norwegian context, the word “immigrant” (innvandrer in Norwegian), is not just a word, but rather “a rhetorically powerful concept.”33 This becomes clear when we consider the different meanings and connotations that “immigrant” has come to encapsulate in media, popular and political discourses in Norway; as Gullestad puts it, the meaning “seems to oscillate between an implicit code based on ‘Third World’ origin, different values from the majority, ‘dark skin,’ working class (unskilled or semi-skilled work) and a dictionary definition in which these characteristics are irrelevant.”34 This is by no means a phenomenon that is uniquely Norwegian; it can also be seen in other European contexts. For example, Riva Kastoryano’s analysis of the emergence of immigration politics in France during the 1980s and early 1990s shows that the influence of the use of the word “immigration” in both popular and political discourse resulted in a shift from it being “a term once used for its descriptive and technical capacity” to one that became “used for polemical meaning in public debate.”35 In such contexts, the term marks the boundary between those inside and those outside of the nation(al), since it “is often used in a totalizing way, covering many nationalities of origin, and overriding many statuses and identities.”36 The members of Queendom who were interviewed for this chapter are part of a generation of people who are mostly the children of African or south Asian parents, or of “mixed”37 ethnic Norwegian and non-ethnic

48 madeleine kennedy-macfoy Norwegian parentage. Most of this generation were born in Norway and have grown up and attended school in Norway, and for many, Norway is the only “home” they know. However, as one of the group members explained, notwithstanding any sense of an identity of being Norwegian, there is no escaping the specter of difference: A lot of us have been treated as very different, and it’s been very clear to us as individuals that we are different . . . that we need to make a decision or that there is something different with us. And we’ve been fighting for ourselves and for others to recognize that this difference is just a part of the whole of what we are . . . Here the speaker points out that the experience of being different in Norway includes an awareness of the pressure to make some sort of decision about how to identify. This calls to mind the infamous “Cricket test,” proposed by Norman Tebbit, a former UK Minister in the governments of Margaret Thatcher: a person of a minority ethnic background can only be fully English/British if, whenever their ‘country of origin’ plays a cricket match against England, they support the English team. The differentiated individual is called upon to be proactive in demonstrating their loyalty to the nation(al), as a way of legitimizing their claim to being a part of the nation(al). However, as Fortier has shown, the impossibility of truly belonging is inscribed in this requirement for minorities to constantly demonstrate their allegiance to the nation and to national values, since it is a move that reifies difference.38 For this member of Queendom, however, the struggle has not been about how to discharge this “burden of proof” of belonging, but rather about how to counter it with a demand for recognition. A second group member also spoke about the challenge of getting ethnic minority people in Norway to be recognized as equal Norwegians. She said that “people in Norway, a lot of the time, have that ‘us’ and ‘them’ way of looking at things; whereas we are trying to tell them that we are not ‘them,’ we are also ‘us.’” Consequently, for these two members of Queendom, the challenge lies in convincing their detractors that: a) they are not reducible to their difference (“this difference is just a part of the whole of who we are”); and b) difference should not preclude their membership in the (re-imagined) national community (“we are not ‘them,’ we are also ‘us’”): Our main objective has been to widen the defi nition of the word ‘Norwegian’, so that the term, and the understanding of what the national identity, Norwegian, means, should be much broader. What we’re trying to say is that, being a Norwegian today, in 2010, means that you can be a black Norwegian . . . we’re trying to expand that defi nition so that it includes more people . . . it’s about forcing the Norwegian society to respect and include everyone who lives here, in decision-making, in representation of all sorts, in society.

Queendom

49

In highlighting their commitment to the struggle for all Norwegians to be recognized as equals and included as such in social life, the third member of Queendom also gave a concrete example of the form this struggle has taken in recent years in Norway: There have been fights too, like with the word ‘Negro,’ which was a fight that we were a part of. All Norwegians [do not accept] that the word is a ‘no go area’; because we think that it’s a ‘no go area,’ it’s just a racist word and we should stop using it. The “fight” that the speaker is referring to was a sustained public dispute about the use of the Norwegian word neger (Negro). It started in November 2000, when an organization called Afrikan Youth mobilized a small number of black celebrities in Norway, to make public statements about the fact that they did not like being referred to as a neger. This was the catalyst for a furious exchange of views between those who were for and those who were against the use of the word. Broadly speaking, those who argued that people should be able to use the word neger did so on the grounds that it is a neutral, descriptive word in the Norwegian language, which is almost always used innocently and without malicious intent. For those on the opposite side, however, as the member of Queendom cited above stated, the word is viewed as “a no go area” because it is considered racist. From this perspective, neger cannot be disassociated from its loaded history of abuse because, as Randall Kennedy has said of the word “nigger” in the North American context, it “is a key word in the lexicon of race relations.”39 In Gullestad’s account of the debate,40 she makes a similar point, arguing that: It is precisely the boundary between being Norwegian and being neger that makes it possible to continue to maintain that neger is a neutral word, in spite of a public dispute that demonstrated that is has de facto become highly contested. In this sense, defending this word can be seen as a way of defending the unwritten hegemonic right not to reflect critically over current individual and national self-images and the collective memories on which they are founded.41 The debate peaked during 2001, when it gained new momentum after the racially motivated murder of Benjamin Hermansen on January 26th of that year. It re-appeared briefly again in 2004, when a Swedish/Somali man was described in a police report as a neger as a matter of routine. Most recently, in 2005 the director of the Norwegian Language Council seemingly went against the Council’s previous position on the matter, and stated that “outsiders” could not just come to Norway and start telling Norwegians how to speak their own language.42 That, however, was precisely the point: many

50 madeleine kennedy-macfoy of the people who objected to be being called neger were not “outsiders,” and they were talking about “their” language. Two of the members of Queendom interviewed were active members of Afrikan Youth at that time, and were in key leadership roles within the organization. They described some of the mainstream reactions to Afrikan Youth’s attempt to highlight the fact that many minority Norwegians found neger to be an offensive and insulting term: It was very difficult in the beginning because we felt that people were either belittling us or they were looking at us like complete extremists. Whereas we felt that the things we were pointing out were just normal things that any modern day society like Norway should agree on. At that point, I felt that we got a lot of pressure as in, everybody was telling us: “You guys see racism in everything!”; “It’s just a word!” “You guys are paranoid!” “You are making big things out of little things!” But we managed to get on national debates on TV, had newspaper coverage . . . it eventually died down. But, it had at least sparked some reflection in the Norwegian public. Although the public debates about the use of neger abated, Queendom have maintained their commitment to contesting the use of this word by including their objection to it in the opening statement on their Manifesto: Members of Queendom do not wish to be referred to as Negro, “Negress” or Mulatto. We prefer the use of terms such as African, woman, black; or, for example: Norwegian-African, Ethiopian-Norwegian etc.43 It has been five years since these public debates about using neger took place in the Norwegian media, but by keeping it a “live” issue on their website, Queendom maintain the challenge to a type of hegemonic use of the Norwegian language. It is a challenge that has had some success, since, as one group member put it: “I don’t think there are many Norwegians in this country who could say the word without it tasting funny in their mouth. I would say, ten years ago that was not the case.” The debates over the use of neger exposed the underlying struggle between minority ethnic (and also naturalized) Norwegians and majority ethnic Norwegians over the question of who has the power to name and to define social identities and locations inside and outside of the nation(al), and in so doing, to decide who is/can be, and who is not/cannot be Norwegian.44

THE DIFFERENCES THAT MAKE US: CONCLUDING REMARKS “If what we are talking about is feminism, then the personal is political and we can subject everything in our lives to scrutiny. . . . The subject of revolution is ourselves, is our lives.”45

Queendom

51

This chapter has discussed the experiences and views of three members of the Norwegian performance collective Queendom. The focus has been on what those experiences and views tell us about how the intersection of gender, “race” and ethnicity is framed in some current constructions of Norwegian national identity, and on how the group challenge these constructions through their work. Wherever relevant, I have noted in the chapter similarities between Norway and other contexts (the U.S. and other European countries), which are also faced with the complexities and challenges of minority and majority communities living together. Such parallels as I have sought to highlight should, however, remain contextual. As Goldberg has argued, although it is possible to map what he has called a regional process of “racial Europeanization,” it is important to also note the differences between contexts and their myriad specificities: at the local and national levels; of experiences of colonial, neo-colonial and post-colonial histories and of empires; and of varying degrees of colonizing and scientific racisms, inter alia.46 Local specificities notwithstanding, Norway and the Nordic region more generally do not exist in a regional vacuum. The contours of the Afro-Norwegian/Afro-Nordic landscapes can be traced alongside different-yet-similar landscapes in other parts of the “new Europe.” The experiences of Queendom’s members led them to develop as activist artists, working to gain equal recognition for those Norwegians who continue to be excluded from equal participation and belonging in the national community on the grounds of their perceived difference. They have focused on “disrupting hegemonic ideas of racial hierarchy and monolithic national belonging” in Norway.47 However, Queendom see no contradiction in affi rming both differences and inclusion, since their message is an inclusive one: “we are basically talking about . . . how differences are what make every person.” NOTES 1. Given the space restrictions for each chapter, I am not able to discuss in any depth three other themes that emerged from the interviews, which related to identity, friendship and love. 2. This is a direct quote from one of the group members, who said that Queendom’s work over the last ten years has been about the “struggling to be recognised as belonging to the fauna of Norway.” Much has been written about the racist and reductive/essentializing (colonial and postcolonial) linking of black and African people to nature (see for example McClintock, Anne, Imperial Leather: Race, Gender and Sexuality in the Colonial Conquest, London: Routledge, 1995). It is not, therefore, my intention to re-inscribe that discourse here by using the phrase “belonging to the fauna of Norway.” I have used it because it is a direct quote from one of my interviewees, and it is particularly telling in relation to the Norwegian context. 3. See Beatrice Halsaa, Cecilie Thun, and Line Nyhagen Predelli, “Women’s Movement: Constructions of Sisterhood, Dispute and Resonance: The Case of Norway,” WP4 Working Paper No. 4, (2008), retrieved September 20, 2010 from http://www.femcit.org/publications.xpl.

52 madeleine kennedy-macfoy 4. See, inter alia: Cherríe Moraga et al., This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color (Berkeley, CA: Third Woman Press, 1981); Hazel Carby, “White Woman Listen! Black Feminism and the Boundaries of Sisterhood,” in The Empire Strikes Back: Race and Racism in 70s Britain, ed. Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, University of Birmingham (London: Hutchinson, 1982), 211–235; and Shabnam Grewal et al., Charting the Journey: Writings by Black and Third World Women (London: Sheba Feminist, 1988). 5. As well as the Saami, other minorities that have long histories in Norway, but who have systematically been left out of the myths of Norwegian homogeneity, include the Tatars, the Kven and the Jews. See Abram, “Reproducing the Norwegian Myth,” 6. 6. Marianne Gullestad, “Blind Slaves of Our Prejudices: Debating ‘Culture’ and ‘Race’ in Norway,” Ethnos 69, no. 2 (2004): 182. 7. A similar argument has been made in relation to the Swedish and Finnish contexts. See: Lena Sawyer, “Engendering ‘Race’ in Calls for a Diasporic Community in Sweden,” Feminist Review 90 (2008): 87–105; and Keskinen, “Honour-Related” Violence, 2009. On the continued salience of “race,” analytically, methodologically and materially, see Anoop Nayak, “After Race: Ethnography, Race and Post-Race Theory,” Ethnic and Racial Studies 29, no. 3 (2006): 411–430. 8. It is not my intention to present a one-sided view of Norway: as in many other Western countries, there has been and continues to be an organized anti-racism movement, which was perhaps most active during the 1980s and 1990s—see Knut Nydal, “Sosialmoralsk Engagement og Politisk Aktivisme. Framveksten av en antirasistisk bevelgelse i Norge: 1975–1988” (PhD diss., University of Oslo, 2007). 9. Eileen Muller Myrdahl, “Orientalist Knowledges at the European Periphery: Norwegian Racial Projects, 1970–2005” (PhD diss., University of Minnesota, 2010), 11. 10. During the period of the union with Sweden, Norway had its own constitution and parliament, so this is not generally viewed as a colonial relationship (Gullestad, “Blind Slaves,” 198); Norway was occupied by Nazi Germany during the Second World War. 11. See Thomas Kingston Derry, A History of Scandinavia: Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland and Iceland. London: Allen and Unwin, 1979. 12. See Keskinen et al., Complying with Colonialism, 2009. 13. Vuorela, “Colonial Complicity: The ‘Postcolonial’ in a Nordic Context,” 29. 14. Myrdahl, “Orientalist Knowledges,” 7. 15. See Suvi Keskinen, “‘Honour-Related’ Violence,” 2009. 16. Importantly, the term “immigrant” is used in official statistics to refer not only to people who were born abroad and migrated to Norway, but also to persons who were born in Norway, and are Norwegian citizens, but either or both of whose parents were born abroad. People who might otherwise be referred to as “second generation Norwegians” are in fact referred to as “of an immigrant background.” See Myrdahl, “Orientalist Knowledges,” 7. 17. Gullestad, “Invisible Fences,” 46–47. 18. Julia Sudbury, Other Kinds of Dreams: Black Women’s Organisations and the Politics of Transformation (London: Routledge, 1998), 34. 19. Queendom er imot alle former for undertrykkelse av kvinner—Queendom er imot alle former for undertrykkelse av kvinner. All translations from Norwegian to English were done with the kind assistance of Beret Bråten and Joh Ekollo.

Queendom

53

20. Beret Bråten, “People Politics. Integration in Norwegian Political Parties” (PhD diss., University of Oslo,). Det samfunnsvitenskapelige fakultet, Universitet i Oslo. 2013 21. Interview with Courttia Newland in Catch a Vibe (September 23, 2009), an online magazine covering “black arts and entertainment in London,” retrieved August 27 2010 from http://www.catchavibe.co.uk/interview-withwriter-courttia-newland/841/. 22. “The Personal is Political” is the title of an essay on feminist theory written by Carol Hanisch in 1970 (see http://www.carolhanisch.org/CHwritings/ PIP.html). 23. Vi ser ingen motsetning i å være engasjert i språkbruk, ord og uttrykk—og samtidig være opptatt av tvangsgifte, kjønnslemlestelse og andre brudd på menneskerettighetene. 24. See Gail Lewis, “Welcome to the Margins: Diversity, Tolerance, and Policies of Exclusion,” Ethnic and Racial Studies 28, no. 3 (2005): 536–558; Keskinen, “Honour-Related” Violence, 2009; and Myrdahl, “Orientalist Knowledges,” 2010. 25. See Marianne Gullestad, Plausible Prejudice: Everyday Experiences and Social Images of Nation, Culture and Race (Oslo: Universitetetsforlaget, 2006); and Keskinen, “Honour-Related” Violence, 2009. 26. Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches (Trumansburg, NY: Crossing Press, 1984), 11. 27. As a performance collective, membership of the group frequently changes, depending on the other projects and work individual members are engaged in at any given time. So, for example, in 2010, the three group members I interviewed were the only members operating as Queendom, since the other two were fulfi lling other artistic and professional commitments. 28. See Halsaa et al., “Women’s Movement,” 2008. 29. Stuart Hall, “The Local and the Global: Globalization and Ethnicity,” in Culture, Globalization and the World System: Contemporary Conditions for the Representation of Identity, ed. Anthony King (London: Macmillan, 1991), 34. 30. Gail Lewis, “Celebrating Intersectionality? Debates on a Multi-Faceted Concept in Gender Studies: Themes from a Conference,” European Journal of Women’s Studies 16, no. 3 (2009): 205. 31. Gail Lewis, “Celebrating Intersectionality?” 207. 32. http://www.ssb.no/innvandring_en/. 33. Marianne Gullestad, “Invisble Fences,” 50. 34. Marianne Gullestad, “Invisible Fences,” 50. 35. Riva Kastoryano, “Immigration and Identities in France: The War of Words,” French Politics and Society 14, no. 2 (1996): 59. 36. Marianne Gullestad, “Invisble Fences,” 50. 37. The term “mixed” is used in quotation marks here to signal the contestations over its usage and meanings in the growing literature on “mixedness.” See, for example: Ifekwunigwe, 2004; Olumide, 2002; and Ali, 2003. 38. Anne-Marie Fortier, Multicultural Horizons: Diversity and the Limits of the Civil Nation (Abingdon, Oxon, UK: Routledge, 2007), 108. 39. Randall Kennedy, Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word (New York: Pantheon Books, 2002), 4. 40. Gullestad’s account contains references to Norwegian newspaper articles and interviews in which the use of neger was discussed at the height of the debate (see Gullestad, Plausible Prejudice, 2006). 41. Marianne Gullestad, Plausible Prejudice, 217. 42. Marianne Gullestad, Plausible Prejudice, 2006.

54

madeleine kennedy-macfoy

43. Queendom ønsker ikke å bli betegnet med ord som neger, negresse eller mulatt. Bruk heller ord som afrikaner, kvinne, svart—eller f.eks. norsknigerianer, etiopisk-norsk o.l. -www.queendom.no. 44. It is important to note, however, that important divisions within the categories of majority and minority Norwegians were also brought to light by the debate: a significant number of majority Norwegians agreed with Afrikan Youth and the black celebrities that the word should not be used; whilst a number of other high profi le minority Norwegians felt that the word was harmless and could be used neutrally (Gullestad, 2006). 45. Audre Lorde, A Burst of Light: Essays (New York: Firebrand Books, 1988). Cited in Sudbury, Other Kinds of Dreams, 56. 46. David Goldberg, “Racial Europeanization,” Ethnic and Racial Studies 29, no. 2 (2006): 350. 47. Francesca Giommi, “Centring Marginality through Black British Narratives: Small Island and Young Soul Rebels,” Afroeurope: Journal of Afropean Studies 2, no. 3 (2008).

BIBLIOGRAPHY Abram, Simone. “Reproducing the Norwegian Myth: Egalitarianism and the Normal.” CTCC Research Papers 1 (2008). Retrieved August 23, 2010 from www. tourism-culture.com/working_papers_series.htm. Ali, Suki. Mixed-Race, Post-Race: Gender, New Ethnicities and Cultural Practices. London and New York: Berg, 2003. Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Refl ections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. London: Verso, 2006. Moraga, Cherríe, and Gloria Anzaldúa, eds. This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color. Berkeley, CA: Third Woman Press, 2001. Brah, Avtar. Cartographies of Diaspora: Contesting Identities. London and New York: Routledge, 1996. Bråten, Beret. “‘I Did Everything, Whatever It Took’: Inclusion and Exclusion of Ethnic Minority Candidates in Political Parties in Norway [working title].” PhD diss., University of Oslo, 2011. Bredal, Anja. “Tackling Forced Marriages in the Nordic Countries: Between Women’s Rights and Immigration Control.” In “Honour”: Crimes, Paradigms and Violence against Women, edited by Sara Hossain and Lynn Welchman, 332– 353. London: Zed Books Ltd, 2005. Brochmann, Grete, and Knut Kjeldstadli. A History of Immigration: The Case of Norway 900–2000. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 2008. Carby, Hazel. “White Woman Listen! Black Feminism and the Boundaries of Sisterhood.” In Black British Feminism: A Reader, edited by Heidi Safia Mirza, 45–53. London and New York: Routledge, 1997. “Combahee River Collective: A Black Feminist Statement, 1977.” In Let Nobody Turn Us Around: Voices of Resistance, Reform, and Renewal: An African American Anthology, edited by Manning Marable and Leith Mullings, 524– 529. New York: Bowman & Littlefield, 2000. Crenshaw, Kimberle. “Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory and Antiracist Politics.” In Feminist Legal Theory: Foundations, edited by D. Kelley Weisberg. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1993. . “Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics and Violence against Women of Color.” Stanford Law Review 43 (1991): 1241–1258.

Queendom

55

Desai, Manisha. “Transnational and Global Feminisms.” In Blackwell Encyclopedia of Sociology Online, edited by George Ritzer. Retrieved September 20, 2010 from doi: 10.1111/b.9781405124331.2007.x. Fortier, Anne-Marie. Multicultural Horizons: Diversity and the Limits of the Civil Nation. Abingdon, Oxon, UK: Routledge, 2007. Fraser, Nancy. “Rethinking Recognition.” New Left Review 3 (2000): 107–120. Giommi, Francesca. “Centring Marginality through Black British Narratives: Small Island and Young Soul Rebels.” Afroeuropa: Journal of Afroeuropean Studies 2, no. 3 (2008). Retrieved September 20, 2010 from http://journal.afroeuropa. eu/index.php/afroeuropa/article/viewFile/119/110. Goldberg, David. “Racial Europeanization.” Ethnic and Racial Studies 29, no. 2 (2006): 331–364. Gullestad, Marianne. “Blind Slaves of Our Prejudices: Debating ‘Culture’ and ‘Race’ in Norway.” Ethnos 69, no. 2 (2004): 177–203. . “Invisible Fences: Egalitarianism, Nationalism and Racism.” Royal Anthropological Institute 8 (2002): 45–63. . Plausible Prejudice: Everyday Experiences and Social Images of Nation, Culture and Race. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 2006. Hagelund, Anniken. The Importance of Being Decent: Political Discourse on Immigration in Norway 1970–2002. Oslo: Unipac Institutt for Samfunnsforskning, 2003. Hall, Stuart. “The Local and the Global: Globalization and Ethnicity.” In Culture, Globalization and the World System: Contemporary Conditions for the Representation of Identity, edited by Anthony King. London: Macmillan, 1991. Halsaa, Beatrice, Cecilie Thun, and Line Nyhagen Predelli. “Women’s Movement: Constructions of Sisterhood, Dispute and Resonance: The Case of Norway.” WP4 Working Paper No. 4 (2008). Retrieved September 20, 2010 from http:// www.femcit.org/publications.xpl. Ifekwunigwe, Jayne. Scattered Belongings: Cultural Paradoxes of Race, Nation and Gender. London: Routledge, 1999. Kastoryano, Riva. “Immigration and Identities in France: The War of Words.” French Politics and Society 14, no. 2 (1996): 58–65. Kennedy, Randall. Nigger: The Strange Career of a Troublesome Word. New York: Pantheon Books, 2002. Keskinen, Suvi. “‘Honour-Related’ Violence and Nordic Nation-Building.” In Complying with Colonialism: Gender, Race and Ethnicity in the Nordic Region, edited by Suvi Keskinen, Salla Tuori, Sari Irni, and Diana Mullinari, 257–272. Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2009. Khan-Østrem, Nazneen. “Den Hvite Ridderen.” Samtiden 3 (2010): 100–110. Lewis, Gail. “Celebrating Intersectionality? Debates on a Multi-faceted Concept in Gender Studies: Themes from a Conference. ” European Journal of Women’s Studies 16, no. 3 (2009): 203–210. . “Welcome to the Margins: Diversity, Tolerance, and Policies of Exclusion.” Ethnic and Racial Studies 28, no. 3 (2005): 536–558. Lister, Ruth. Citizenship: Feminist Perspectives. Basingstoke, Hampshire, UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003. Lorde, Audre. A Burst of Light: Essays. New York: Firebrand Books, 1988. . Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Trumansburg, NY: Crossing Press, 1984. Maynard, Mary. “Methods, Practice and Epistemology: The Debate about Feminism and Research.” In Researching Women’s Lives from a Feminist Perspective, edited by Mary Maynard and Jane Purvis, 10–26. London: Taylor & Francis, 1994. McClintock, Anne. Imperial Leather: Race, Gender and Sexuality in the Colonial Conquest. London: Routledge, 1995.

56

madeleine kennedy-macfoy

Modood, Tariq. “Political Blackness and British Asians.” Sociology 28, no. 3 (1994): 859–876. Myrdahl, Eileen Muller. “Orientalist Knowledges at the European Periphery: Norwegian Racial Projects, 1970–2005.” PhD diss., University of Minnesota, 2010. Nicholson, Linda. Identity before Identity Politics. Cambridge University Press, 2008. , ed. The Second Wave: A Reader in Feminist Theory. New York: Routledge, 1997. Olumide, Jill. Raiding the Gene Pool: The Social Construction of Mixed Race. London, Stirling, Victoria: Pluto Press, 2002. Palmberg, Mai. “The Nordic Colonial Mind.” In Complying with Colonialism: Gender, Race and Ethnicity in the Nordic Region, edited by Suvi Keskinen, Salla Tuori, Sari Irni, and Diana Mullinari, 35–50. Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2009. Puijk, Roel. “Producing Norwegian Culture for Domestic and Foreign Gazes: The Lillehammer Olympic Opening Ceremony.” In Olympic Games as Performance and Public Event: The Case of the XVII Winter Olympic Games in Norway, edited by Arne Martin Klausen, 97–137. New York: Berghahn Books, 1999. Sawyer, Lena. “Engendering ‘Race’ in Calls for Diasporic Community in Sweden.” Feminist Review 90 (2008): 87–105. Sudbury, Julia. “Other Kinds of Dreams”: Black Women’s Organisations and the Politics of Transformation. London: Routledge, 1998. . “(Re)constructing Multiracial Blackness: Women’s Activism, Difference and Collective Identity in Britain.” Ethnic and Racial Studies 24, no. 1 (2001): 29–49. Vuorela, Ulla. “Colonial Complicity: The ‘Postcolonial’ in a Nordic Context.” In Complying with Colonialism: Gender, Race and Ethnicity in the Nordic Region, edited by Suvi Keskinen, Salla Tuori, Sari Irni, and Diana Mullinari, 19–33. Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2009. Wikan, Uni. Generous Betrayal: Politics of Culture in the New Europe. Chicago, London: University of Chicago Press, 2002.

3

The Midnight Sun Never Sets An Email Conversation about Jazz, Race and National Identity in Denmark, Norway and Sweden Cecil Brown, Anne Dvinge, Petter Frost Fadnes, Johan Fornäs, Ole Izard Høyer, Marilyn Mazur, Michael McEachrane and John Tchicai

In Denmark, Norway and Sweden, jazz went from being seen as radically foreign to become a seamless part of domestic culture. Tracing this development speaks to how the national identities of these countries were, and still are, bound up with notions of race, ethnicity and culture. Yet, as the following conversation makes clear, ultimately it is a development that defies racial, ethnic or national boundaries. Amidst current struggles over nationality and belonging, reflecting on the roles of jazz in these countries may serve as an antidote to racially and ethnically exclusive conceptions of national belonging.

THE EARLY RECEPTION Michael McEachrane: From the perspective of race and national identity, the reception of jazz in the Nordic countries during the so-called Jazz Age of the 1920s is interesting in many ways. This was a time when jazz burst on the scene as the fi rst truly nation-defying and global popular music. Similar to the later roles of, say, rhythm-and-blues, rock, reggae and rap, jazz was the fi rst popular music to become an essential part of a global, urbane, hedonistic and counter-cultural youth movement with elements of dance, nightclubs and concert performances. It became associated with high fashion and Art Deco, short skirts and cigarette-smoking women, sexual liberation and liberating dance styles like Charleston and Black Bottom. It was also part of a more general trend of celebrating black people—even if ambiguously so—for the same racial characteristics that they previously had been chastised for: of being physical rather than cerebral, spontaneous, sensuous and so on. In this vein, jazz was paradoxically seen as both hypermodern and primitive. This spirit was captured in a poem from 1928 by the Swedish writer and national icon Artur Lundkvist (1906–1991):

58

Cecil Brown et al. Play Negro, black brother! You new Christ, redeem us with your shining saxophone! Set the flesh on fire, bestow us with that primordial bliss and smell of earth in the morning— Stun us! Deliver us from the ordinary, from what has been and what is, from all the memories, all the deeds, from thousands of years of civilization—

If such racialism was ambiguous among those who celebrated it, the latent racism became obvious among its adversaries. Both the early rejection and embrace of jazz in the Nordic countries seems to have been predicated upon national identities of being racially and culturally white and European. In this scheme of things, to be, say, Swedish, Danish or Norwegian was understood as being part of a racial, cultural and national community that, in contradistinction to Africa and black people, was “developed,” “civilized,” “cultured,” “human,” “reasonable,” “orderly” and so on. One cannot properly understand all the hoopla around the early reception of jazz without understanding how the music was associated with racial notions of Africa, blackness, primitiveness and difference. Johan, in your remarkable book from 2004 on the role of jazz in Swedish society under the Social Democrats, Moderna människor: Folkhemmet och jazzen [Modern Folk: Jazz and the Swedish Welfare Society], you write that it really wasn’t until WWII that jazz was described in a positive fashion in Swedish press and that until then the music was mostly described as a threat to the social and cultural fabric of the nation. Could you say a couple of words about this? And, Anne, what was the reception like in Denmark? Johan Fornäs: Yes, it’s truly fascinating to study the dominant jazz discourses of that period, and being struck by their differences to today’s music discourses—but also with certain underlying continuities. When African American jazz was attacked in Swedish press as alien to its national culture, it was a combination of fears of being degraded by an allegedly primitive African heritage, but also of a new flow of American influences. During Louis Armstrong’s fi rst Swedish concert tour in 1933—which marked a broad popular breakthrough of jazz in Sweden—he was unanimously denounced by all press reviews as “cannibal offspring,” a gorilla from the deep jungles, a “mentally disturbed” maniac escaping from an asylum, playing sounds that were no real music, “more nature than culture.” The most favorable review in Swedish press likened him to a jungle animal with a trumpet that “roared like a tiger” and expressed difficulties in perceiving his humanity:

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

59

He has the most remarkable voice you can imagine. Occasionally, when he sings and isn’t forcing the voice too much, he can evoke a strange atmosphere, which leads one to think of romantic Negro idylls in his homeland. But no sooner has one caught a breeze of this, until he shifts and presses the voice so that one must look at him for a while to ascertain that it really is a human being who’s singing. At times when he grunts, one’s thoughts unsought wander off to the primeval forest. With his liveliness, his licentiousness and wildness Louis Armstrong captivates the masses. It should be remembered, though, that many African American jazz musicians capitalized on the zeitgeist of the time by partly inscribing themselves in a similar discourse. After all, Louis Armstrong, Josephine Baker and others made a career by also to some extent playing with the primitive jungle stereotypes, subtly subverting them by exaggeration but also to some extent confi rming them, at least in the eyes of many contemporary Scandinavians. Racial thinking was everywhere, not only among the adversaries of jazz but equally much among fans and many of the musicians. Lundkvist, who you quoted in your email, Michael, was then, during the late 1920s and early 1930s, an avant-garde poet. His articulate primitivism was a marginal position in the Swedish mainstream at the time, even if beliefs about racial primitivism were widely echoed in popular culture in less programmatic ways. There were hundreds of songs and tunes celebrating the happy swinging “Negro,” or transposing blackness onto other ethnic minorities such as the Romani (“Gypsies”) or Sami people (“Lapps”)—who at that time were more present in the Swedish landscape than were people of African origin. Anne Dvinge: When talking about the early reception of jazz in Scandinavia, I think it’s important to make a number of distinctions. In the very early reception of jazz, at least in Denmark, the general public had a rather hazy concept of what jazz was. The term was used indiscriminately as a catch phrase for anything dance related, modern and American. It didn’t even have to be music. What seems to have been the fi rst article in Danish newspapers on jazz, an article from 1919, is primarily about jazz as a dance craze, with the music being a secondary, albeit equally repulsive, phenomenon. During the 1920s in Europe, national anxieties were mixed with racial anxieties. In Denmark nationalist sentiments were running high. After a number of disastrous military and national losses in the 19th century—the most painful of these being the loss of Schleswig to the Prussians in 1864— the saying, “What is outwardly lost must be inwardly won” (Hvad udad tabes, skal indad vindes), gained popular currency. Consequently, national romanticism infused cultural production in Denmark for decades. Denmark’s most celebrated composer of classical music, Carl Nielsen (1865–1931), is a noted representative of Danish national romanticism. In

60

Cecil Brown et al.

his major study from 1982, Jazz i Danmark: i tyverne, trediverne og fyrrerne [Jazz in Denmark: During the 20s, 30s and 40s], Erik Wiedemann quotes Nielsen extensively as an adversary of jazz. His arguments seem mostly to have revolved around the supposedly inherent alienness of the music. Jazz, he suggested, would not maintain a hold in Denmark as it had “no content and no roots in our culture.” At the same time, though, he noted that it was spreading, “planting putrefaction-bacteria in higher music.” He also dismissed the newness of the syncopation. Rhythm, he felt, wasn’t a principal factor in music. Resistance to jazz was also based on economic concerns. Not for the Parnassus of Danish culture and intellectual life that Carl Nielsen represented, but for professional musicians making a living in dance orchestras playing the ballrooms and dance cafés. An impending jazz craze meant potential unemployment. However, once it became clear that anti-jazz propaganda did not have the desired effect, the Danish Musicians’ Union focused their efforts on ensuring work opportunities for their members, creating a rule in 1927 stating that foreign orchestras or musicians could not be hired without hiring a corresponding number of Danish musicians. That rule subsequently became quite important in Herluf Kamp-Larsen’s booking policy at the legendary Jazzhus Montmartre in Copenhagen, where visiting jazz greats had to play with rhythm sections of Danish and other Scandinavian musicians. A policy that, I dare say, had a significant impact on the evolution of jazz in Scandinavia.

FROM DEMONIZED TO ASSIMILATED Michael McEachrane: Johan, you have a model of how you think the appropriation of jazz in Sweden changed over the years. In your understanding, jazz went from fi rst being demonized, then less demonized but still seen as a polar opposite of what was deemed “Swedish,” to become incorporated in hybrid forms with “Swedish culture” and fi nally thoroughly assimilated. Could you expound on this? Johan Fornäs: Let me fi rst just relate to what Anne said about how jazz was seen as a threat to the employment of Danish musicians. As late as in 1937, the Musicians’ Union in Stockholm organized a public manifestation against foreign musicians—who at that time mainly were jazz musicians. Still, at that stage, among the cultural elite the consensual suspicion towards jazz was largely broken and the racist arguments had waned. I think the general turn came sometime in the mid to late 1930s. Some single anti-jazz statements continued even after the war, but they were restricted to a handful of extreme reactionaries. In order to understand both the initial resistance towards jazz and its later assimilation, we need to parse out how the music played into various kinds of racial, national and class discourses. When the focus was on black

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

61

musicians the music was typically seen through a racial lens as inherently African and primitive. On the other hand, when the focus was on the more widely popular white musicians, the music was judged by a combination of class and nationality: an allegedly low, uncouth, uneducated, superficial music from the rising superpower of the U.S. in contrast to the more refi ned and sophisticated Europe. Sometimes, though, the U.S. was defended as not only home to “black” expressions but also full of “white” accomplishments not that different from “our own,” and sometimes “white” American jazz was despised as a diluted version of the real “black” thing. That said, I think jazz became “assimilable” when it had developed two key factors. First, it had to be possible to separate versions of jazz which could be considered high art from more popular and dance-oriented music. This made it possible for jazz to be favorably included and positioned in the aesthetic hierarchies of society. Second, it had to develop a national idiom, so to speak. Generally, for assimilation to occur, after a period of importing, copying and imitating foreign styles, they need to be more fi rmly anchored domestically by constructing inflections that are felt as one’s own. These two steps made it possible for the emphatically modern sounds of jazz to freely circulate as part of a domestic reservoir of musical styles. This kind of nationalizing of jazz in Sweden was accomplished by the likes of Alice Babs, Jan Johansson, Georg Riedel and Monica Zetterlund. Alice Babs, who already in the late 1930s combined yodeling and swing, and, among other things, starred in a string of wildly popular Swedish movies, beginning in 1940 with Swing it, magistern! [Swing it, Teacher!]. Jan Johansson’s jazz interpretations of Swedish folk music as on the 1964 household album, Jazz på svenska [Jazz in Swedish]. Georg Riedel’s use of jazz in popular films and TV series, many of them based on Astrid Lindgren’s children’s books such as the Pippi Longstocking movies. Finally, Monica Zetterlund, who during the 1960s caught the national limelight by singing American jazz tunes with Swedish lyrics, collaborating with the popular comedians Hasse & Tage and also recording with Bill Evans. With such acts, jazz had gone full circle from the margins to the core of Swedish musical life. From the 1920s when the primary stance towards jazz was one of exclusion, moral panic and a call to keep these nasty sounds outside the borders. Through the 1930s when Swedish primitivists such as Artur Lundkvist and others constructed jazz as the ultimate Other, but meeting it with desire rather than expulsion. Till the 1940s when some voices of hybridization were being heard by, for instance, Alice Babs or the playful Povel Ramel and his 1944 hit “Johanssons boogie woogie vals” [Johansson’s Boogie Woogie Waltz]. Then fi nally becoming seamlessly assimilated during the 1950s. After that, I would argue, the circle started again with new styles of music such as rock and later rap passing through these stages once more. Here I think it’s important to point out, though, that what made jazz grow in popularity during the 1920s, 30s and 40s, despite the resistance

62 Cecil Brown et al. towards it, wasn’t so much its deviance as its dance inviting swing, its capacity to resonate with the contemporary lifestyles of the growing cities and its ability to represent a new era for the younger generations. Anne Dvinge: The polarizing of jazz in Sweden during the 1930s, which you describe Johan, seems roughly to have characterized the contemporary Danish scene as well. A new brand of so-called Cultural Radicals took a stand against myopic nationalism, Victorian morals and sentimentalism. To them jazz was seen as an alternative to a repressed, artificial and narrowminded culture. Jazz, they thought, was about rhythm, the body, eroticism and naturalness, and thereby carried with it a life-affi rming rationality fit for the modern age. One of the key figures of the cultural radicalism movement, the architect Poul Henningsen (popularly known as PH), was commissioned in the early 1930s by the Danish Foreign Ministry to produce a film to promote Denmark abroad. The result was the 1935 documentary Danmarksfilmen [The Denmark Film]. Images of the Danish countryside, the spires of Copenhagen, young girls on bicycles and a brewery production line were presented to the sound of jazz. Because of the soundtrack, the film caused immediate controversy as being unpatriotic and a misrepresentation of Danishness. Much of the media attention objected to the “Negroes making noise” and the use of “Negro-rhythms” which, god forbid, would “transport the audience to Africa or a New York ballroom.” It didn’t seem to help that the music had been composed by Danes, was performed by Danes and had Danish lyrics. Poul Henningsen defended his choice by stating that in using what he called “entirely modern Danish music, internationally oriented” the fi lm established a “rhythmic and atmospheric correlation to the images” in a language that would be “understood everywhere.” Henningsen thus insisted on the use of jazz as a cosmopolitan language and understood that “modern Danish music” could not be defi ned in narrow ethnic or national terms. The same eschewing of any sharp divide between Danishness and blackness can be seen in the attempt by the cultural radicalism movement to use jazz to reform music pedagogy. The jazz pedagogy of the cultural radicals evolved parallel to the Danish folk music movement of the 30s and the idea was to create a “Folk Music School” based primarily on jazz. The belief was that the rhythmic nature of jazz would support a pedagogy that was less inhibiting than classical music and supported natural patterns of movement and breath. The music schools initially created by the cultural radicals were not long lived, but the connection between jazz, folk music, and pedagogy came to strongly influence the Danish system of local music schools and the music curriculum of Danish primary schools. In other words, there seems to have been an eclectic mix of views on jazz during the 1930s. Ranging from demonizing the music as racially alien to seeing it as a refreshing aesthetic novelty and a signifier of cool

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

63

internationalism, or even to seeing it as something folksy and “hyggelig” (there I said it!), already part and parcel of Danish mainstream entertainment culture.

WWII Michael McEachrane: It’s hard to fi nd anything, say, “Swedish” whose origins aren’t foreign. Potatoes, coffee, snuff, saffronbread, gooseberries, fiddles, swine, meatballs, kings and queens, democracy, Santa Claus . . . However, the relatively recent assimilation of jazz with its associations to race is particularly relevant to today’s contestations over national culture. How then did these associations change when jazz was assimilated? Johan you write that anti-jazz statements began to subside in Swedish press during the mid to late 1930s. Why was that? Johan Fornäs: I think it at least partly had to do with the rise of Nazism in Germany, which cast a shadow on Swedish race-thinking. Also, the contacts with touring African American musicians made it increasingly unconvincing, not to mention uncomfortable, to wax poetic about the racial metaphysics of blackness. At the same time, the global influence of the U.S. was rapidly growing and its hybrid culture could no longer be regarded as a strange marginal phenomenon. Another factor was the increasing visibility of Swedish jazz musicians. For instance, the Swedish Musicians’ Union’s hostile attitude towards jazz changed when Swedish jazz musicians began enrolling during the 1930s. And when the domestic jazz scene took off after Louis Armstrong’s Swedish tour in 1933 and Swedish pop music became jazz inflected, treating the music as a foreign menace was no longer viable. There are clear parallels here to the assimilation of rock in Sweden during the 1960s when the establishment of a domestic stock of artists and styles soon broke the initial skepticism among conservatives. Anne Dvinge: Practically everything Johan writes here about the mainstreaming of jazz in Sweden during the second half of the 1930s seems equally true of Denmark. Although an extra dimension is added with the role of jazz during the German occupation of Denmark 1940–45. It seems fair to say that during that period the music acted as a form of cultural resistance. Homegrown jazz flowered to such an extent that it is commonly known as the Golden Age of Danish Jazz. However, the flowering grew out of necessity more than anything else. During that time hardly any recordings or international visits made it through the German lines. With the music being in high demand this encouraged Danish musicians to step up. During the occupation, The Danish National Broadcasting Company continued under its own management until late August 1943 and regularly

64 Cecil Brown et al. played “American dance music.” When the Germans took over the management of the radio in August 1943 all English and American music was initially banned. However, as the listeners abandoned the National radio for the BBC, the German attaché deemed it more prudent to let the music back on the air and during the fi nal years of the war there were regular studio transmissions with popular local jazz orchestras.

THE HARLEM KIDDIES Michael McEachrane: From what I understand, one of the most popular Danish jazz orchestras during the Occupation was the Harlem Kiddies. When I fi rst learned about them I was perusing through some Danish jazz history, came across their name, thought it intriguing, saw one of their album covers and thought, “But, wait, they’re black?!” The three core members were Jonny Campbell (1917–2009) on saxophone, Jimmy Campbell (1916–2010) on guitar and Kai Timmermann (1912–2010) on drums. From what I’ve gathered, the Campbells’ father was an African American by the name of William Campbell born in 1866, who had toured Europe as a minstrel performer during the late 19th century, met a Danish dancer, Oda Jørgensen, settled down in Scandinavia and passed away in 1923. Kai Timmermann’s father was Congolese and also the father of another prominent Danish jazz musician—who we are fortunate to count as one of the participants of this discussion—John Tchicai (1936–). Kai Timmermann formed the orchestra out of a previous orchestra of his, the Chocolate Kiddies. It seems that previous to joining the Harlem Kiddies in the early 1940s, the Campbell brothers had worked as step dancers, actors, unicyclists and musicians in Denmark, Sweden and Russia, among other things, touring with the Fritiof Malmsten Troupe in Sweden and the State Circus of Russia before settling down in Denmark during the war. Although the story of the Harlem Kiddies is fascinating to say the least, barely anything has been written about them. Anne, in an email you once sent me you mentioned that Erik Wiedemann only briefly mentions them in his 750-page epic of Danish jazz during the 20s, 30s and 40s. I don’t know what the reasons were, but maybe part of the explanation is given by Jonny Campbell in an interview in the Danish journal, Jazz Special, that you, John, recommended that I read. In that interview, Campbell mentions that he had refused to collaborate with Wiedemann after Wiedemann had snubbed him (or so Campbell thought) for mentioning Louis Armstrong and Benny Carter as his main influences (as if those were poor influences!). John, you were not even 10 years old when the Harlem Kiddies were at the height of their success. Do you have any memories of them that you care to share? And can you give us a sense of what it could be like to be black in Denmark during WWII? Also, I’m curious, how did your father end up in Denmark?

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

65

And, Anne, to your knowledge, what seemed to have been the Harlem Kiddies position in Denmark during the German occupation? I can only imagine what the Nazis must’ve thought of their popularity, but what about the Danish audience? Were they embraced as Danes? John Tchicai: I like the information about the Campbells, some of it I didn’t know. I can understand that the Harlem Kiddies were among the most sought after bands in Denmark at the time. It must’ve been one of the few Danish bands that could swing in an African American way. I remember a concert with the band in Århus, Denmark, that my father took me and my brother Mauritz to. I enjoyed it a lot and was proud to have a big brother that could play the drums so nicely. It must’ve been during the war or just after. As to your question to Anne whether the Harlem Kiddies were embraced as Danes, I’m sure they were! They all spoke fluent Danish, did their own bookings, had Danish wives, lived in Denmark, and so on. My father had settled down in Denmark after having lived for some time in Germany, Sweden and Norway. He fi rst came from Africa to Berlin with the German ethnographer and explorer, Leo Frobenius. He had been a houseboy and translator for Frobenius in Congo. There’s a Frobenius Institute in Frankfurt, which recently published some books with stories and pictures of my dad, Joseph Lucianus Tschicaya. Concerning what it could’ve been like to be black during the war, fi rst of all, although our father was so-called black, I and my brothers and sisters were not black but brown. My father was very popular and known by a lot of people in both Copenhagen and Århus—in part because at the time there were few Negroes in Denmark. He made many German friends during the war. Partly because they frequented the restaurants he worked at and he spoke German. I even seem to remember German soldiers visiting our home. My brother, Mauritz, and I used to play near the freight-train station in Århus, which the Germans were in charge of. Sometimes the guards asked us to go to the bakery for them and tipped us for it. People were very curious about our color and sometimes wanted to touch our hair. It happened that this made our father very angry and scold them in his baritone voice and broken Danish. Once Mauritz and I were voted the prettiest boys in town in a photo competition. I would say that generally, there were no racist feelings against us. Only occasionally would people behave awkwardly, mostly out of ignorance. Anne Dvinge: As for the popularity of the Harlem Kiddies during the Occupation, I think it’s safe to say that the mixed race of Timmermann and the two Campbells was perceived as a delightful smack in the face of the German forces. Although, Michael, as you point out, there’s very little published information about them. Wiedemann briefly mentions them as one of the most vital ensembles of the 1940s, highlighting them as the only

66 Cecil Brown et al. Danish orchestra with an actual sense of the blues and a characteristic Louis Jordan jump-style. To this I would add that they not only were the most “American” sounding band of the Golden Age of Danish jazz, but arguably also one of the very few Danish bands at the time who could’ve given American bands competition. After the war, Jonny Campbell transformed the group (without the founder Kai Timmermann) into one of the earliest and fi nest bebop ensembles in Denmark. What must’ve added to the Harlem Kiddies subversive potential during the Occupation is that the two singers who most often performed with them, Raquel Rastenni and Benny Schwartzmann, were Jewish. In the fall of 1943 there had been an order from Germany to round up Danish Jews. A German official in Denmark leaked the news. As a result, 6,000 Danish Jews, among them Rastenni and Schwartzmann, were smuggled out of the country on fishing boats and the like. Neither the lives of Timmermann nor the Campbells seemed to have been much affected by the Occupation. During my recent research about their careers, the only ordeal I’ve managed to fi nd is a brief reference about being hid away in the back of a provincial club during a German control. On the other hand, I’ve found plenty of references from that time to their supposed racial authenticity. Of the band members especially Timmermann seemed to have played along with the racial stereotypes. For example, in an interview from 1941 he states that jazz depends on “something deep in the soul of Negroes and I feel it myself; feel the 50,000 years my ancestors have beaten the tom-tom.” However, in another interview shortly after the war in 1946 he stresses his Danishness and suggests that his play on being black had allowed him to “do the craziest things on the drums. If people thought it sounded awful they would just assume that that was how it was supposed to sound, because jazz and Negroes go together.”

THE GOLDEN YEARS OF SWEDISH JAZZ Michael McEachrane: In Sweden there was still some public resistance to jazz after the war. In 1946 one of the country’s major publishers, Natur & Kultur, published the book Jazzen anfaller [Jazz Attacks]. Although the founders of Natur & Kultur had been vocal anti-Nazis during the war, the author, Eric Walles, was a Nazi. In an oft-quoted passage Walles wrote that, “You cannot understand jazz without acknowledging three significant facts about its origin. It has been created by Negroes. It has been created by drunken Negroes. It has been created by drunken Negroes in a brothel setting.” The immensely popular Povel Ramel immediately responded with a satirical jazz song with the same name in which he declared that “jazz will celebrate a terrible victory, before you know it you’re a Negro.” In the years to come, during the 1950s and early 1960s, jazz was indeed victorious with a flurry of domestic recordings and international and

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

67

interracial collaborations between Swedish and American musicians. At the center of this vigorous cross-Atlantic exchange was the Stockholm-based music label Metronome. Founded in 1949, during the 1950s Metronome also opened offices in Oslo, Helsinki, Copenhagen, Berlin, Hamburg and New York, in addition to handling a number of American labels in Scandinavia and Germany such as Atlantic, Prestige and Disneyland. Of course, one should be careful not to overextend the cultural, national and racial significance of the vibrant Swedish jazz scene of the 1950s and early 60s. Nonetheless, there’s much to consider concerning race and national identity in the ways in which jazz during this time became an integrated part of national culture. For instance, how Swedish folk music, with its connotations of primordial ethnicity, being connected to the land, and so on, was picked up by Swedish and American jazz musicians and circulated internationally. Or, how Swedish and American (most of them African American) musicians collaborated—seemingly in a spirit of mutuality—to produce music that certainly had a domestic significance but which ultimately transcended nationality and any reifying notion of culture. Perhaps the most classic example of the use of Swedish folk music in jazz is the appropriation of “Ack, Värmeland du sköna” [O, Värmland You Beautiful]. The fi rst jazz interpretation of the song was made by Stan Getz and the Swedish All Stars featuring Bengt Hallberg on piano on a 1951 Metronome album. After that it went viral as “Dear Old Stockholm” recorded by, among others, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Chet Baker and Donald Byrd. It tickles my imagination to consider how this folksong was made popular as a nationalist expression in the 19th century—fi rst by the national historian and member of the Swedish Academy Anders Fryxell, who put words to it and staged it—to more than a hundred years later be used in jazz both as a kind of musical expression with a nationalist undertone (perhaps especially when sung by the blond Swedish jazz songstress Monica Zetterlund, who during the 1950s rose to become a national icon), but was circulated in ways that defies nationalism. In the wake of Stan Getz’ recording, the use of Swedish folk music soon became a signature of Swedish jazz. Some notable examples are Lars Gullin, Jan Johansson, and Georg Riedel with his jazz-inflected folk music pastiche in several of Astrid Lindgren’s movies. Lars Gullin—who became an international name after having toured with Stan Getz—went so far as to make Swedish folk music part of his compositions and style, such as is evident on his now classic “Danny’s Dream” (as an aside, I remember a TV program in the late 1990s about Swedish heritage sites where that tune was used to evoke an air of “Swedishness”). Gullin’s folk-jazz was sometimes unfavorably described as “fäbodjazz” (pastoral jazz), which speaks to both the rural connotations of folk music and the urban connotations of jazz. Then, of course, there’s Jan Johansson’s 1964 household album Jazz på svenska [Jazz in Swedish] with jazz interpretations of Swedish folksongs (which you’ve already mentioned, Johan) and his 1965 Adventures in Jazz

68

Cecil Brown et al.

and Folklore together with Bengt-Arne Wallin, Bengt Hallberg and Georg Riedel. If we are to believe the ethnomusicologist Märta Ramsten, these recordings were a crucial influence on the Swedish folk music revival of the 1960s and 70s. Here I would also venture to say that since the likes of Gullin, Johansson and Wallin, especially Swedish and Norwegian jazz has tended towards “pastoral” connotations of being connected to the land and natural landscapes rather than the city and that this is part of what sometimes is loosely referred to as the “Nordic tone” in jazz. Equally remarkable as is this trajectory of jazz in Sweden from radically alien to folk culture as it were is how racially integrated the Swedish jazz scene was at the time. An example of both is the remarkable Metronome career of the African American vocal group the Delta Rhythm Boys. Having formed in the 1930s and played with such luminaries as Ella Fitzgerald and Count Basie, in the 1950s they recorded a string of songs, several of them Swedish folksongs, with Metronome in Stockholm. Their greatest hit was the single “Flickorna i Småland” [The Girls in Småland] which sold a whopping 100,000 copies (in a population of 7 million). They also recorded songs for Metronome in Finnish, French and Italian, and some members eventually settled down in Scandinavia. The group stopped performing after one of its members, Lee Gaines, passed away in Finland in 1987 at the age of 73 and another of its members, Hugh Bryant, died of a heart attack while singing a tribute at the funeral. The international significance of the 1950s Swedish jazz scene and the key role African Americans played on that scene is widely underappreciated. African Americans who recorded with Metronome and Swedish musicians during the 1950s—some of them also settling down in Scandinavia—include Quincy Jones, James Moody, Duke Jordan, Art Taylor, Tommy Flanagan, Elvin Jones, Teddy Wilson, Roy Haynes, Benny Bailey, Sahib Shihab, Cecil Payne, Joe Newman, Tommy Potter, Joe Harris and Ernestine Anderson. Quincy Jones’ fi rst record under his own name was an EP he did for Metronome together with Roy Haynes. The EP, Jazz Abroad, was released in 1954 when Jones was merely 21 years old and had Swedish and American musicians playing on it such as Arne Domnérus, Lars Gullin, Art Farmer and Sahib Shihab. In his early to mid-twenties Jones also joined forces with the congenially polished sound of Harry Arnold and His Swedish Radio Studio Orchestra. Together they recorded the EPs Count Em’ and Room 608 and the LP Home Again for Metronome, and for the New York label Prestige, the LP Quincy Jones+Harry Arnold+Big Band=Jazz!, all of them released in 1958. It’s telling of the status of jazz in Swedish mainstream culture of the 1950s that the country’s state controlled public radio had its own jazz orchestra. Perhaps the tune that stands out the most on Quincy Jones’ recordings with Harry Arnold and his orchestra is “The Midnight Sun Never Sets.”

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

69

Jones apparently jotted down the ballad while taking a cab in Stockholm to his friend Bengt-Arne Wallin (who also appears on the recordings of it). The ballad reverberates with the kind of lyrical sounds that Wallin, Arne Domnérus and other Swedish jazz artists were pursuing at the time and it may even be listened to as a kind of tribute to Sweden and its jazz with a title fit for a national anthem. In 1959 the ballad was sung by Sarah Vaughan under the slightly changed title, “The Midnight Sun Will Never Set” (with romantic lyrics by Dorcas Cochran) on the Quincy Jones-produced album, Vaughan and Violins.

THE JAZZ CAPITOL Michael McEachrane: Although Sweden’s jazz scene was swinging during the 1950s, it still fades in comparison to the role Copenhagen played internationally during the 1960s and early 70s. It would hardly be an exaggeration to say that Copenhagen during that time rose to become the jazz capitol of the world besides New York. If you look at the amount of American jazz greats who performed in Copenhagen, often even made a home for themselves there, and the amount of recordings of them in Copenhagen that were put on vinyl, not to mention the many contributions that Danish musicians made to international jazz during that time, describing Copenhagen as a 1960s jazz capitol of the world strikes me as fair. Only consider the sheer amount of African American jazz icons who not only lived in Denmark for a period of time during the 1960s and early 70s—such as Dexter Gordon and Yusef Lateef—but who also passed away there: Oscar Pettiford (1922–1960), Ben Webster (1909–1973), Aubrey Milton Moore (1924–1973), Thad Jones (1923–1986), Kenny Drew (1928– 1993), Ernest Wilkins (1922–1999), Duke Jordan (1922–2006), Ed Thigpen (1930–2010). It also seems fair to say that since the 1960s jazz has been a significant part of the cultural identity of Denmark and Copenhagen in particular (as a Lonely Planet Travel Video on YouTube about Copenhagen puts it: “Copenhagen is jazz, smørrebrød and bicycles”). Here it’s worth noting what an intimate part of the country’s cultural fabric many African American jazz artists became who lived and played in Denmark. After Ben Webster passed away in Amsterdam in 1973 his body was brought back to Copenhagen and buried at the honorary Assistens Kirkegård—where Kenny Drew was also buried in 1993—beside the likes of the children’s author H. C. Andersen, philosopher Søren Kierkegaard and physicist Niels Bohr (Webster and Drew seem to be the only non-Europeans to have received interments there). In tribute to his national legacy, the Ben Webster Foundation was founded in 1976 and confi rmed by the Queen of Denmark’s Seal, and has since awarded an annual prize to jazz artists in Denmark—one of the prize winners being Marilyn Mazur (who’s part of

70 Cecil Brown et al. our conversation) in 1983 and another being the African American pianist Horace Parlan in 2000. Even some streets in Copenhagen are named after African American jazz greats: Kenny Drews Vej, Ernie Wilkins Vej and Thad Jones Vej. Anyone? Ole Izard Høyer: Allow me to backtrack to the late 1940s and 1950s, before the legendary Jazzhus (Jazzhouse) Montmartre in Copenhagen opened in 1959, and the Danish jazz scene wasn’t nearly as international as it became during the 1960s (nor as the Swedish scene was at the time). After the war, and partly due to Denmark’s isolation during the German occupation, the new bebop sounds of jazz came as a great shock to many Danish musicians and listeners alike. In part because of these new developments in jazz toward more “artsy” sounds, but also because of the rise of rock-and-roll in the early 1950s, the popularity of jazz was beginning to wane. What is more, in the early 1940s when Denmark found itself relatively isolated, the U.S. and England had seen a “revivalist” jazz movement who sought to recuperate the New Orleans roots of the music. Denmark followed suit nearly a decade later. In effect, come the 1950s, Danish jazz had split into two camps: “modernists” who were indulging the new sounds of bebop and cool jazz, and “revivalists” who were into New Orleans trad jazz. The largest and most popular of these two groups were the New Orleans revivalists. From our horizon trad jazz may seem like a retrograde choice. But its greater popularity is less puzzling if we keep in mind that the choice was between the “artsy” merely-for-listening sounds of bebop and cool jazz versus the easier listening and dance inviting sounds of New Orleans. Although the racializing of jazz had become less pronounced in Denmark than it was before the war it was still a factor in how the music was produced and consumed. For instance, in the discourses around the revivalist movement in Denmark there was a clear tendency to link “authentic” New Orleans jazz to blackness—where the music was seen as depending on being played by black people. For Danish revivalists like Arne (“Papa Bue”) Jensen, Jørgen Svare and Torben Ulrich, good musicianship therefore meant copying to the best of one’s ability (within the implicit confi nes of one’s Danishness and whiteness) African American artists like Louis Armstrong and Kid Ory. Among Danish modernists too, like Erik Moseholm, Boris Rabinowitsch and Bent Jædig, there was a tendency to understand one’s musicianship in racial terms. Bebop became generally seen as “black” and their aesthetic preferences tended to lean more toward the white-dominated cool jazz of the American west coast. Here, though, we should be careful not to conflate racial perceptions with aesthetic preferences. One may argue that in being inculcated into Danish culture, one would be more inclined to identify with the lyrical and classically influenced sounds of, say Lennie Tristano, Lee Konitz and Chet Baker,

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

71

than with the rhythmic fi reworks of, say, Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie. Nevertheless, it should come as no surprise to us—even in our contemporary world of music production and consumption, which, needless to say, often is all but color-blind—that aesthetic preferences had something to do with race. In fact, I’ve interviewed several of the Danish modernists of the 1950s and they generally tell a similar story about their musical choices during that time as being partly informed by race. For example, I once did an interview with one of the most prominent Danish modernists of the 50s, Erik Moseholm, and asked him if he had any thoughts back then about being a white musician playing jazz, to which he replied: We Danish modernists of the time became aware that there must be something in our own musical tradition that we can use. I’m white, I’m not a Negro . . . and you have to search your inner self, what is in you, because you are affected by the environment from which you originate . . . you are not American, you are Danish and you are white. Anne Dvinge: As Ole intimates, Jazzhus Montmartre played a seminal role in establishing Copenhagen as a jazz hub during the 1960s. Beginning with Anders Dyrup’s management in 1959 under the name Café Montmartre the club initially ran a program of the kind of revivalist, traditional New Orleans jazz that Ole describes. But a chance engagement with Stan Getz opened the door to further international engagements and from late 1959 the program had shifted markedly towards modern jazz. Eventually the bartender Herluf Kamp-Larsen took over the club (fi rst with American pianist Harold Goldberg in 1961 and from 1963 as a sole proprietor) and renamed it Jazzhus Montmartre. There is no underestimating Kamp-Larsen’s role in the development of a transnational Danish jazz scene. As I’ve mentioned, Kamp-Larsen had to accommodate the 1927 Union rule that a venue could only hire musicians from abroad by hiring a corresponding number of Danish musicians. Danish jazz musicians who were active during the heydays of the club often speak of the institutionalized transnational musical exchange of Montmartre as their most important learning experience. For instance, Alex Riel has said that all the Danish musicians he plays with today used to come to the club “on their bicycles and listen every night while Niels [Henning Ørsted Pedersen] and I received some post performance evaluation. They learned a lot from our mistakes.” According to Riel, it was Dexter Gordon who taught Danish musicians to play as “a group, so that we sounded as one mouth, talking the same language.” Regarding how jazz became adopted as something characteristic of Denmark, there is a revealing picture by photographer Jan Persson of Dexter Gordon at the Montmartre in 1973 on his 50th birthday. Behind him, on the wood paneled wall, are small Danish flags tacked up in the shape of a large number “50,” with two smaller American fl ags pinned

72 Cecil Brown et al. in the curve of the “5” and the center of the “0.” As they say: a picture is worth a thousand words. RACE IN “THE COP” Michael McEachrane: I wonder what race relations were like in Copenhagen during the 1960s? The African American avant-garde jazz saxophonist Albert Ayler, who used to live in Sweden during the early 1960s, did an interview with the Danish public radio around that time in which he emphatically says that being in Scandinavia makes him feel free. Similarly, in a 1961 article, “A Negro Reports from Denmark”, for NAACP’s magazine The Crisis, the journalist Leonard Malone writes that in Denmark, “Perhaps for the first time in his life, the Negro has breathing space.” In 1961 a then 25-year old Malone had recently moved to Copenhagen where he lived (and often wrote about the local jazz scene for international press) until he passed away in 1998. In the article he writes of a paradox of race relations in Denmark. On the one hand, The Danes will pay lip-service to the fact that absolutely no racial discrimination exists in Denmark. They are outraged, justifiably so, at the activities and attitudes of the white southern Americans towards the Negro. They are quite vocal about it and they will approach you on the street cars, in cafés, anywhere to tell you how unnatural and completely ignorant bigotry is. They will ask you your opinions on the matter and really can’t understand how any Negro can call America home. They will then elaborate at length on how contrary this is to the Danish way of thinking and make an honest effort to know and understand you. This behavior will give one the opinion that the Danes have actually provided a haven, a sanctuary for the runaway slave—the last stop in the underground railway. On the other hand, Denmark is a small country with a population of approximately four million and is not plagued with the problems of different ethnic groups living within its society. Therefore, she can afford to be critical of other areas which do have these problems. There is no threat: there are few Negroes, Jews, Italians, Puerto Ricans, lepers, green-haired people, and other minorities that people have seen fit, from time to time, to proscribe. Everyone is the same—a Dane. As a result there is great deal of provincialism in Denmark. What is more, although Danish society may be exempt from racial discrimination, Malone does not see it as devoid of racial prejudices. These express themselves in behaviors ranging from wide-eyed exoticism to racial paternalism. Still, he’s optimistic that the “prejudice that does exist here

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

73

is negligible and can easily be erased,” that the Dane is “eager to learn, to climb out of his provincial rut” and that in Denmark “prejudices are not rooted in the hate, fear, ignorance, and savage scars of a society that once was part slave.” In a similarly themed reportage, “The Negro in Europe,” published in 1962 in the black American newspaper Pittsburgh Courier, Malone writes that lately many African American expatriates, “becoming disenchanted with the expensive Parisian living and the blasé atmosphere in Paris comparable to New York, are fi nding their way North—to Copenhagen or Stockholm.” Cecil, you have written a novel which is set in Copenhagen in the 1960s and has been lauded by Henry Louis Gates Jr and others as a cult classic, The Life and Loves of Mr Jiveass Nigger (1969). In the preface to a recent edition you write that, “During those years back in the 1960s, Copenhagen was a Mecca for black American expatriates—an alternative to Paris.” Can you give us a flavor of what Copenhagen and its jazz scene was like in those days for a black American like yourself? Cecil Brown: Of course, I knew Skip Malone personally. The last time I saw him in 1996, he had recently published a book of photographs he had taken. He was one of the brothers who did stay, but many of them went back home, or to Paris, or Spain, or Germany. I can second the ambivalent picture that Skip paints of race in Denmark during the 60s. For the many blacks who felt relieved being in Denmark (or Sweden, or Norway) it was more like “not being in America.” The pressure that black Americans felt back then in America was such that “any place is better than here!” This pressure was so intense that there was nothing in Scandinavia which could be a deterrent. When Scandinavians did object to blacks, it was because they saw the black as an exotic creature, not because of any deep-seated hatred, confl ict, guilt-complex or anything like that. In general, though, I would say from my own experience that the Danish people were very nice to black foreigners. I was in Århus once, and my bicycle broke down, and I had to go to a farm house for help. The family was inquisitive about where I came from and what my family was like. They were not shy or sly, but very open to the fact that they had never met a black man before. I stayed in Copenhagen during the summer and autumn of 1966 when I was in my early 20s. When I was in Paris in subsequent years, I would take trips to Copenhagen, feeling so close to her since my fi rst trip. Now when I go, I feel the pull of globalization, and the quaintness is quickly fading. The charm and quaintness that Copenhagen had in those years in the sixties still choke me up. Jazz is a big part of the feeling that Copenhagen used to give me. It was part of the mood and attitude of the city. Jazz, of course, refers to the music, but in Copenhagen, at that time in the 60s, it was more than the

74 Cecil Brown et al. music. I remember meeting Ted Jones, the jazz poet, in the Drop Inn. He would read his jazz poetry and cop as many young Danes as would Dexter in the Montmartre. Then, there were the black jazz painters, like Raymond Saunders, whom I fi rst met on the famous pedestrian street Strøget. Jazz had something to do with being “hip” too. The music was a fitting background to the gestures, riffs, and positive thinking of black men in “the Cop,” as we used to call her. Many of the brothers were short changed so they would buy clothes from the PX in Germany—where the G.I.s bought their merchandise—and dress up and go to the Jazzhus. Many Danish girls seemed to like this style and it became popular with everybody, including the Danes. I knew some of the expat musicians in Copenhagen, like Dexter. But I didn’t know Albert Ayler, who you mention, Michael, although his music is briefly referenced in Jiveass. I also knew a white Dane who knew them all, Henrik Iversen, married to the black American singer Rosita Thomas and who was one of the founders of the Ben Webster Foundation. In writing Jiveass, I was extending the idea that jazz is a kind of “jive,” and that the story was a kind of verbal jazz. This was the spirit in which it was written, even if there are folktales in it too. “Cop” in those days was the ideal setting. The reason Jiveass stood out is that not many other black writers would do it. They were afraid that the publishers wouldn’t buy it. And they were right, but since publishers were wrong, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

TCHICAI Michael McEachrane: John, during the 1960s you got caught up in both the Copenhagen and New York scene and became one of the key figures of avant-garde jazz. I think it’s fair to say that your life and career challenge some commonplace ideas about nationality, race, ethnicity and culture. To me you represent a vanguard example of why ethnically and racially confi ned notions of national culture and belonging need to be abandoned. To give the readers a brief rundown of your career, you were born in Denmark in 1936 to a Danish mother and Congolese father, began playing the violin at the age of 10, but switched to the saxophone in your mid-teens when you also became interested in jazz. In Copenhagen in the early 60s you played with some distinguished American jazz musicians such as Albert Ayler and John Coltrane. After being invited to New York by Archie Shepp and Bill Dixon at the Helsinki Jazz Festival in 1962 you left for New York the same year. There you, among other things, formed the New York Contemporary Five (with Archie Shepp and Don Cherry); were one of the key players in Bill Dixon’s 1964 festival, “The October Revolution in Jazz,” showcasing the new avantgarde direction of the music; played on John Coltrane’s classic free jazz album, Ascension (1965), and on Albert Ayler’s equally classic, New York Eye and Ear Control (1964); and co-founded the legendary New York Art Quartet.

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

75

On the fi rst album you recorded with the New York Art Quartet in 1964, the poet and leader of the 1960s Black Arts Movement, Amiri Baraka, recited the poem, “Black Dada Nihilismus.” The year before in 1963, Baraka, after having heard you play at a concert in a New York City loft, wrote for the world’s premier jazz magazine, Down Beat: A tall young alto player, John Tchicai, sat in with the original group for the last few numbers and brought the audience to its feet. Even though he is a Negro, Tchicai is a Danish citizen. He plays the alto like he wanted to sound like Coleman Hawkins playing like Ornette Coleman. But he sounds mostly like nothing you’ve heard before. There’s no doubt in my mind that a lot of people are going to hear him very soon. And in the liner notes of a 1964 Archie Shepp album which you played on, Baraka wrote that, “Like Shepp, Tchicai carries the world-spirit in his playing, what is happening now, to all of us, whether we are sensitive enough to realize it or not.” In 1966 you moved back to Copenhagen, formed the 30-piece ensemble Cadentia Nova Danica with which you recorded the 1969 album, Afrodisiaca. From then, you’ve worked on projects ranging from Afro-jazz to your own compositions of classical music to playing fusion jazz in California during the 1990s to recently having recorded with the Danish electronica band Elektro and played with them at the international Danish Roskilde Festival 2011. I don’t mean to be glib, but it’s interesting to consider what it means to have such a life and career and be “Danish.” Now I’m curious, did the association of jazz with black people have anything to do with why you were drawn to it? And how did you see yourself in terms of identity during your adolescence in Denmark, navigate the American identity politics of the 1960s, and how do you self-identify today? John Tchicai: The answer to your fi rst question, Michael, is yes! After the war when American ships came to Århus with black people onboard we were often invited to visit them. My brother and I used to go with our father. They had jazz records and interesting food, gave us chocolate, chewing gum and other nice gifts. After the war too, many black and white American jazz orchestras came to town to give concerts which we often frequented. Seeing and hearing Lionel Hampton’s band was a major inspiration to me. To answer your second question, I’ve never really seen myself as black, brown or white. And now I consciously focus on what is beneath what we see with our eyes. I try to focus on the life that’s there in the space between my thoughts, live intuitively and holistically and not reduce anyone. And I think that since I was young I’ve always seen us as essentially the same. Although, being brown in Denmark made it easier for me to feel at ease

76 Cecil Brown et al. with black musicians—something which didn’t always come natural to white musicians. As a young man in Denmark I was also drawn to black people and thought they were funnier, happier, friendlier, more relaxed and strange. It therefore came natural to me to begin socializing with visiting black musicians in Copenhagen during the late 50s and early 60s.

JAZZ AS HIGH ART Michael McEachrane: Perhaps one could say that the 1960s free jazz movement, which you were a significant part of John, represented the clearest break of jazz with popular music and commercialism. Of course, as Ole mentioned, in Denmark, and most definitely Sweden too, jazz took a modernist turn with the assimilation of bebop in the 1950s. Still, in Sweden anyway, jazz kept some popular traction until the early to mid-60s. I’m especially thinking of the Swedish jazz singer Monica Zetterlund’s popularity (not least with her 1962 hit song, “Sakta vi gå genom stan” [Slowly We Walk through the City]—a Swedish rendition of the jazz tune, “Walkin’ My Baby Back Home”). However, from the mid to late 1960s the domestic production and consumption of jazz in Denmark, Sweden and Norway had become almost exclusively associated with art, modernism and high culture. Johan, you seem to think that being able to associate elements of jazz with high culture was necessary for the assimilation of the music in Sweden during the 1950s. Could you elaborate on this in connection to how you think that the modernist turn in Swedish jazz has given the music the national status it has today? Johan Fornäs: As I’ve briefly mentioned, it seems that jazz became assimilated in Sweden once it, more than merely developing domestic versions of the music, had shown it was able to develop elements that could be regarded as high art (as well as the capacity to itself make distinctions between high and low). If not before, this was established in the late 1940s and 50s, when bebop and other artistically ambitious styles distinguished themselves from jazz schlagers and dance tunes. In this process, jazz lost a lot of its perceived ethnic and racial difference and gained a distinct mainstream middle- to upper-class status. Existing Swedish research (in particular Erling Bjurström’s 1990s studies of music taste patterns among youngsters) consistently indicates that a taste for jazz is strongest among people with higher education, upper-class and non-immigrant backgrounds. This may of course vary some between the Nordic countries and change over time. However, though classical art music proponents may have had trouble accepting jazz idioms, in Sweden jazz has become fi rmly established in prestigious institutions of higher learning since at least around 1970 and belongs to the genres that are regularly described as consecrated by the institutions that formulate the canons of

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

77

cultural capital (or semi-consecrated, as it is still true that jazz, like, for instance, musicals, has a secondary position compared to opera and other classical music). Still, this does not prevent jazz from serving subversive aesthetic and political functions. On the contrary, there are many artistic and intellectual practices which are used among members of the elite strata of society to symbolically distinguish themselves as dissenting members. Towards such ends, the early xenophobic reaction to jazz and its continuing loose association with black people has remained an important symbolic capital for some its Scandinavian followers—a mark of difference that helps underpin, for instance, an oppositional cultural stance or a cosmopolitan sophistication. Nevertheless, jazz is since many decades well anchored in domestic Scandinavian environments, and the overwhelming majority of contemporary Scandinavian jazz artists and listeners are as light-skinned Nordic as in any other genre.

A NORDIC TONE? Michael McEachrane: If Sweden left a mark on the international jazz scene during the 1950s and Denmark during the 1960s, Norway has since the 1970s until today impacted international jazz like no other Nordic country. To this development the German record label ECM has been pivotal. Founded in 1969 it has since the 1970s become Europe’s, if not the world’s, premier jazz label. Besides a host of American jazz artists—interestingly enough, the overwhelming majority of them white—Norway has like no other nation dominated the ECM production and image. In many ways the image of ECM can be characterized as distinctly European and even Nordic. Its aesthetics leans heavily towards European high art. The founder of the label, Manfred Eicher, has said that the idea behind the name, “Edition of Contemporary Music,” came from painting, galleries and the book editions of the French publisher Gallimard. Since the 1980s ECM has issued both jazz and classical music and crossovers too. Its jazz productions alone tend to have as much in common with chamber music as they have with the music of Charlie Parker. Northern Europe has a special place in the ECM aesthetic too. Manfred Eicher has often spoken of the inspiration he has found in the North— ranging from its nature and its light to its cultural icons, such as the Swedish movie director Ingmar Bergman and the Norwegian painter Edward Munch. The celebrated album covers of ECM often evoke Nordic-looking landscapes as does, to many listeners, the spacious, contemplative, and lyrical tones of the famed “ECM sound.” However, perhaps the most important ingredient of the enigmatic “Nordic tone” that Scandinavian ECM artists sometimes are said to possess is folk music. In seeking out a musical identity of their own, ECM artists such

78

Cecil Brown et al.

as the Norwegians Jan Garbarek and Arild Andersen or the Swedes Bobo Stenson and Anders Jormin, have found inspiration in the folk music traditions of their home countries. It barely needs mentioning that from the perspective of what we’ve been discussing the development of jazz in the direction of European high art, classical music, Nordic folk music and associations to Nordic landscapes is intriguing. On the other hand, as Eicher himself has pointed out, transcultural exchange has always been essential to ECM. An obvious example is the contribution of the African American jazz great Don Cherry. After settling down on the southern Swedish countryside during the 1970s, Cherry recorded a string of groundbreaking “world jazz” albums for ECM with the American sitar player Collin Walcott and the Brazilian percussionist Naná Vasconcelos. And although the ECM aesthetic sometimes seems to lend itself to national romanticism this is at least partly undercut by, for instance, Jan Garbarek’s anecdote (from the book, Horizons Touched: The Music of ECM) about how Don Cherry in the late 1960s made the Norwegian ECM vanguard hip to their own folk music: Unlikely as it might seem, Don even had some responsibility for opening a door to Norwegian folk music for me and for Jon [Christensen], Arild [Andersen], and Terje [Rypdal]. In this period, the custom in Norway was to invite famous visiting American musicians to do a session at the radio station. And as Don was playing with us, he came up with the idea that we could also invite some folk musician to participate. Now we knew quite a lot of the folk musicians, and would hang out with them in the clubs in Oslo, but the idea of playing together hadn’t arisen. At Don’s insistence, one was contacted, a lady singer, and she came to the radio studio. Nothing at all was prepared beforehand, Don just organized everything in the moment, very smoothly and easily, and we played—and the combination of folk music and improvising sounded so right to me. I think from that moment on, the idea of having folk music aspects or folk musicians involved in this music was always there in my mind. Petter, any thoughts? Petter Frost Fadnes: Let me fi rst say that although jazz in Norway went through the same trajectory from demonized to assimilated as it did in Denmark and Sweden, it’s still today encountering some prejudice. We don’t have to go that many years back to fi nd stories of trepidation in Norway towards jazz in higher education—for instance, when staff at a classical conservatory wanted to ban jazz from the library to prevent it from “corrupting the classical students.” It seems to me that jazz still has the capacity to provoke merely by breaking out of established aesthetic conventions.

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

79

Not least the abstract musical statements of free jazz improvisation with its stream of consciousness notes, use of white noise and extended techniques seem to evoke a perceived lack of orderliness, civility or something to that effect. Even the lack of notation is vexing to some as it eludes written justification and gives rise to questions of whether or not jazz represents conscious musical thinking. On the other hand, prominent jazz artists routinely perform in concert halls in Norway in front of audiences relatively identical to audiences of classical music. One can imagine that this helps give jazz some credence and keep it in the public limelight. However, when it comes to both public and commercial funding, jazz in Norway is nowhere near attracting the same amounts as classical music. Still, I would say that it was increased state funding and support from public media that helped Norwegian jazz take off internationally in the late 1960s. As to the question of a supposed “Nordic tone” of Norwegian jazz, it’s easy to understand how there might be a temptation from an outsider perspective to hear a geographical connection to “the land” in Norwegian jazz—just as there might be a temptation to hear Soweto in South African jazz or the Favela in Brazilian jazz. The term “Nordic tone” about Norwegian jazz is primarily used from a spectator point of view. It’s a commodifying projection, not a term deemed accurate for internal use, neither by practitioners nor critics in Norway. As a soundtrack to Norwegian fjords the famed “ECM sound” may be as natural as salsa is to the streets of Havana. But such soundtracks are hardly compatible with the individuality we rightly have come to expect from jazz. I think the role of the “ECM sound” in Norwegian jazz often is exaggerated by foreign critics and listeners, yet it’s no doubt that ECM has had a resounding effect on the local scene. In simple terms, ECM in Norway can be seen as a fruitful collaboration between a group of people with a shared vision of recording, producing and releasing modern jazz. In more complicated terms, the spin-off effect of ECM’s commodifying of Norwegian jazz cannot be underestimated. The spatially aware, slightly dreamy aspects of the ECM aesthetic have set off a domestic school of creative thinking (with a line of musicians heavily inspired by the Garbarek sound). But more significantly it has built up international expectations of what Norwegian jazz “should sound like.” This international branding has been successful, for instance, in selling trumpeter Arve Henriksen’s music to a 2004 Lexus commercial or paving the way for filmmaker Michael Mann’s extensive use of Rypdal and Garbarek in his productions. Nonetheless, it falls short of accurately capturing the multiplicity of musical directions on the domestic scene. Although there are some influential examples of ECM albums utilizing Norwegian folk—such as Arild Andersen’s Arv and Garbarek’s Folk Songs—the use of traditional Norwegian folk is not nationally extensive. No doubt, though, the aura of mysticism given by allusions to folk music

80 Cecil Brown et al. has worked entirely in both Garbarek’s and ECM’s favor. Imagining a long and folkloric-ridden past in vast exotic settings of fjords, mountains and forests provides a perfect marketing tool for selling Norwegian jazz abroad. Of course, it does to some degree seem entirely logical that Norwegian performers would be inspired by their surroundings and the sense of space and openness of largely rural and sparsely populated Norwegian landscapes. Here it’s hard to tell what might be environmental inspiration and what might be effective marketing. In Norway nowadays, though, “mountain jazz” (fjelljazz) is a derogatory term often jokingly used to describe what has become a cliché, the reflection of a logo—not representative of what young up-and-coming musicians are trying to achieve. Here I would say that Jan Garbarek’s first ECM release Afric Pepperbird in 1970 with Terje Rypdal, Arild Andersen and Jon Christensen is more characteristic of the Norwegian jazz scene than his later production. The album revolves around largely open “free jazz” structures, and you can hear clear links to Albert Ayler and the later Coltrane in there. This is also true of Garbarek’s debut album from the year before, Esoteric Circle. That album was funded and produced by the trio’s mentor, the African American and inventor of the Lydian Chromatic Concept, George Russell, who had a pivotal influence on Garbarek’s musical direction. Although Garbarek typically turned to more melodic lines in subsequent years, I think it’s fair to say that these early recordings set an important standard for future generations of Norwegian musicians in pointing to open, even playful musical structures, and possibilities of moving away from the more rigid versions of the American canon. It’s curious, though, that just as the ECM aesthetic has linked the likes of Garbarek and Rypdal to hazy nationalistic sentiments, they also have some domestic standing as national icons. The fact that Garbarek played the church ceremony at the 2001 Norwegian Royal wedding says quite a lot about his national standing (incidentally, he chose to rework a traditional Norwegian wedding march). A few years earlier his music had been chosen for the closing ceremony of the 1992 Albertville Winter Olympics as a prelude or invitation to the 1994 Lillehammer games in Norway. For the occasion, Garbarek played saxophone in a duo with Norwegian singer Sissel Kyrkjebø (who was dressed up as a fairytale princess, riding an icesculptured polar bear pulled by Vikings on skies).

MAZUR Michael McEachrane: Marilyn, I think it may be a good idea to round off the discussion with a few words about your rich career which includes ECM and the jazz scenes since the 1970s until today in Norway, Denmark and the U.S. The first time I ever heard of you was at a Miles Davis concert towards the end of the 1980s (I think it might I’ve been 1988). I was in my teens and had taken the train from Malmö in the south of Sweden where I grew up (across

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

81

the water from Copenhagen) to the nearby town of Lund. I don’t remember much from that concert other than that Miles at least at some point wore a white towel around his neck like a boxer, stooped over his horn with his back to the audience, left the stage when other band members were soloing, and during the entire concert merely whispered a couple of raspy words into the microphone. What stands out in my memory above all is this drum solo you did where you went off like fireworks. I was very impressed and took it for granted that you were American. Years later when I found out that you were Danish I had a hard time wrapping my head around it. A gifted black female jazz drummer, who plays with Miles Davis, has an international jazz career, an American sounding name and is Danish? Besides being the only female musician to ever have played in a Miles Davis band, you have toured and recorded with jazz greats such as Gil Evans, Wayne Shorter, Palle Mikkelborg and Jan Garbarek, and recorded over a dozen albums as a bandleader (three of them with ECM). Would you mind telling us a bit about your background, what it was like growing up as a woman of color in Denmark, how you ended up playing the drums and playing with the likes of Miles Davis, Gil Evans, Wayne Shorter, Jan Garbarek, and what it’s been like? Marilyn Mazur: My father was African American and my mother Polish American. To escape the pressures of being an interracial couple in America they decided to make a move from New York to Copenhagen once my father got a job there as a biochemist. He went fi rst and I and mum followed in 1961 when I was six years old. Dad played classical violin and some dance music too. He was very social, knew a lot of people, including what must’ve been the entire black society in Copenhagen at the time. I grew up without any other family than my mother, father and sister (as my paternal grandparents had died and the family on my mother’s side had outcast her). I can relate to what John wrote about growing up as a “brown” kid in Denmark. During my childhood in Denmark there were very few people of color around, which sometimes brought out some curiosity in people, but few negative reactions. As a kid I didn’t give it much thought that I belonged to a supposedly “different race.” Perhaps I just felt it was an extra adventure to have a background that went beyond little Denmark. I always felt rather accepted and also occupied myself with many activities. Still, when I went to Africa (Gambia) for the fi rst time in 1990, I had a deep feeling of commonality with the music there. Some of the locals would also call me “Fula girl,” which I liked. Still, I feel very Danish and cosmopolitan, both in my musical tastes and most other ways too, not so much American or black! My favorite jazz musicians and bands as a teenager were mostly Danish. But I was also greatly influenced by the South African pianist Abdullah Ibrahim and Miles Davis. I don’t think I was especially conscious of the color of the

82 Cecil Brown et al. musicians. It was great to have the opportunity to listen to all that great music at the time in Jazzhus Montmartre in Copenhagen—both the Danish and the American bands. Sometimes, though, I think that one of the reasons I became a musician, was that it was an acceptable way of being different, so that I didn’t have to try to blend in. For me jazz has always been the music where one can create and defi ne one’s own sound, expression and rules. Before I became a musician I was a modern dancer. But dancing at that time in Denmark in the 1970s wasn’t free and expressive enough for me, so playing music seemed more appealing. I had played piano all my childhood and after forming my fi rst band as a pianist and composer in 1973 I switched to drums as that turned out to be the ideal instrument for me to “dance” and communicate with. In my younger days during the 1970s and 80s, many jazz festivals (for instance, in Norway) would prefer to hire “real” jazz musicians—that is to say, black Americans rather than white Europeans. This always struck me as backward. I also remember some black American jazz musicians expressing anger that the white musicians were stealing their music. I found this rather possessive. I acknowledge what a wonderful gift it is for the rhythmic power of music to travel all the way from Africa to the Americas and from there out, over the world. But I see the ensuing diversity as an equally wonderful gift. Gradually, though, I was witness to especially the Norwegian jazz beginning to blossom, creating new and strong musical vocabularies (as you, for example, have described with the ECM music). Now jazz was able to develop with colors and qualities of sound from many other origins than merely the African American. This I see as an increased wealth in the possibilities of expression and communication. I fi rst met Miles Davis when I was invited by Palle Mikkelborg to be a part of a big band which was to record with Miles in Copenhagen in 1984. To make a fairly long story short, Miles invited me to join his band in 1985. When I arrived in New York (for the fi rst time in 25 years!) his agents were wondering what he could possibly see in an unknown Danish female percussionist—with all those great jazz musicians around in the U.S. Then after they had met me, heard me play, watched me dance and noticed whatever was left of my African American roots, they were more like: oh, now we understand . . . I guess I didn’t really fit what was going on in Miles’ band at the time, but Miles could see that there was value, and a fresh approach, in what I had to offer. I ended up touring with Gil Evans a couple of times after Miles had presented me to him. Wayne Shorter must also have heard about me through Miles. He would often call me in Copenhagen, in the middle of the night sometimes, to “test my velocity,” as he put it. In the end I joined his band in 1987 for 9 months. This was the year in between the two different Milesbands that I played with.

The Midnight Sun Never Sets

83

It took me three years of extensive touring with American bands before I realized that I felt much more at home back in Denmark, both musically and personally, making my own music and playing with Europeans. I met Manfred Eicher through playing with the Norwegians Jon Balke and especially Jan Garbarek for 14 years. Also my singer in my band Future Song, Aina Kemanis, knew Manfred well through her former marriage to one of his associates. So several paths led to giving me the opportunity to record for ECM (in addition to several Danish labels). I think Manfred and I have a deep love for sound textures in common. So I had fi nally decided that living in Denmark and Europe where I felt at home was more important to me than “making it” in the music world. In New York everyone would say: you got to move here if you’re serious about your music career, this is where it’s happening! In the 80s it seemed to me that most jazz in New York was either too museum-like or commercial for my taste. There seemed to be little space for more experimental and progressive forms of the music, and the few “alternative” musicians had an awfully hard time surviving, compared to us in comfortable Scandinavia! (On the other hand, perhaps the Danish musicians could seem slightly lazy in comparison.) Denmark-France-Norway-Sweden-Trinidad & Tobago-U.S.A., May 23–June 5, 2011

This page intentionally left blank

Part II

Racism

This page intentionally left blank

4

There’s a White Elephant in the Room Equality and Race in (Northern) Europe1 Michael McEachrane

In Article 2 of the “Basic Principles of the Form of Government” in the Constitution of Sweden one can read that, Public power shall be exercised with respect for the equal worth of all and the liberty and dignity of the individual. The personal, economic and cultural welfare of the individual shall be fundamental aims of public activity. In particular, the public institutions shall secure the right to employment, housing and education, and shall promote social care and social security, as well as favorable conditions for good health. 2 As a legal standard this declaration is perhaps more egalitarian than most liberal democratic constitutions and partly an expression of a Nordic Welfare Model.3 Yet, the idea that public power is to be exercised with respect for the equal worth of all and the liberty and dignity of the individual is a central tenet of any liberal democracy. With the growing emphasis on universal human rights the centrality of this tenet has become more pronounced. According to the fi rst article of The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948), “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights.” According to the second article, “Everyone is entitled to all the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration, without distinction of any kind, such as race, color, sex (. . .).”4 Still, human rights are enjoyed in states where members are granted civic rights in virtue of their humanity while non-members are denied such rights despite their humanity.5 Such distinctions between members and non-members are compounded by nation-states where nationhood is understood in terms of race, ethnicity and culture. This chapter is about how race and privileging white people are central to Nordic and other European countries. It makes the argument that the universal human rights regime (and the idea of Nordic countries as human rights champions) is complicit with a continuing colonial world order that privileges the human dignity of white people.6 The chapter challenges a view of Nordic nation-states as largely race-neutral (and race-equal) human rights supporters, where the pseudo-biological concept of race has become

88

Michael McEachrane

socially marginal and politically irrelevant. Instead it makes the argument that Nordic nation-states are better understood as racial states with a political philosophy, practice and social reality that privileges white people. The chapter ends with a call for a political and civil society framework that could serve to deracialize Nordic and other European states. It is a call to reimagine liberal democracies as equality zones animated by a more consequential respect for human dignity than the current political and civic cultures of Nordic and other European states.

DIGNITY FIRST The “bill of rights” of the European Union, The Charter of Fundamental Rights of the EU, became a basic law of the Union in 2009. Its fi rst article states that, “Human dignity is inviolable. It must be respected and protected.”7 As the drafters of the Charter explain, the dignity of the human person “constitutes the real basis of fundamental rights” and must “be respected even where a right is restricted.”8 This relationship between rights and the dignity of the human person has been a central theme of liberal states since the Enlightenment. In the wake of the Enlightenment justifying equal rights by reference to the equal dignity of the human person is bedrock to liberal democracy. In a liberal democracy it is open to debate which rights should be respected and how— but not that rights are a way of respecting the dignity or equal moral worth of the human person. For instance, if we look at the history of human rights, the many rights documents of the United Nations or the variety of constitutional rights around the world, it is clear that which rights should be included is debatable. Nevertheless, the edifice of human and civic rights would crumble if we did not understand them as ways of respecting the dignity or inherent moral worth of the human person. This is true of our rights to freedom too. Why, if at all, should personal freedom be regarded as the most elemental way for a society to respect its members? Which freedoms should be a right? And when should personal freedoms be limited and in some circumstances even taken away? These are perfectly reasonable questions which are to be answered with reference to how the dignity of the human person should be respected. Since human rights represent respect for human dignity, having one’s human dignity acknowledged in the first place is crucial to having one’s human rights respected. History abounds with examples of this. For example, the extent to which women and people of color have been granted rights and have had their rights respected has often depended on the extent to which they have been viewed as persons whose humanity merits equal respect and therefore equal rights. There have been complaints that the term “dignity” is too vague and vacuous as a ground for human rights.9 However, above all the UN Human Rights Commission which formulated the Universal Declaration included

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

89

the word dignity in order to emphasize that every human being is worthy of respect.10 Not because of our social status, something we do or the kind of character we have, but in virtue of being human beings. As such we have hopes, desires, get frustrated, make decisions, need food, water, shelter, security, love, suffer, have pains, joys and so on. To say, then, that every human being is worthy of respect as a human being is to say that everyone’s hopes, desires, decisions, needs, etc., are worthy of respect as the hopes, desires, decisions, needs, etc., they are. On this account, when correctly understood, human and civic rights represent a respect for the human person qua human person and what is thought of as needed for “a life of human dignity,” “human flourishing” or “personal well-being.”11

HUMANISM OR PSEUDO-HUMANISM? In liberal democratic constitutions citizens are granted equal rights by virtue of their equality as persons. In the post-WWII universal human rights regime this principle is extended to include everyone regardless of nationality and with an added emphasis on non-discrimination. Universal human rights are explicitly meant to affi rm the unequivocal equality in dignity and rights of all human beings regardless of race, color, sex, language, national origin and so on. Such an affi rmation of rights has become an integral part of the constitutions of the Nordic countries. For instance, according to the Constitution of the Republic of Iceland, “Everyone shall be equal before the law and enjoy human rights irrespective of sex, religion, opinion, national origin, race, color, property, birth or other status.”12 And according to the Norwegian constitution, “It is the responsibility of the authorities of the State to respect and ensure human rights.”13 According to a standard view on the post-WWII universal human rights regime it is based on a humanism that contradicts racial discrimination. Those who hold this view will likely think that the previous histories of racial exclusion from equal human and civic rights were due to inconsequential applications of a genuinely universal idea. 14 Politically speaking, then, racial discrimination in society may be effectively countered simply by upholding the principle expressed in The International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination to oppose, any distinction, exclusion, restriction or preference based on race, color, descent, or national or ethnic origin which has the purpose or effect of nullifying or impairing the recognition, enjoyment or exercise, on an equal footing, of human rights and fundamental freedoms in the political, economic, social, cultural or any other field of public life.15 From another perspective shared by, for instance, Aimé Césaire, Makau Mutua and Charles W. Mills, the idea of human and civic rights itself is biased against people of color. In Discourse on Colonialism from 1950,

90 Michael McEachrane Césaire writes that the great thing he holds against European “pseudohumanism” is that “for too long it has diminished the rights of man, that its concept of those rights has been—and still is—narrow and fragmentary, incomplete and biased and, all things considered, sordidly racist.”16 Similarly, Charles Mills has argued that from the beginning the modern idea of human and civic rights was about the humanity of white men, that modern ideas of race and white supremacy developed during the Enlightenment in tandem with—not in contradiction to—ideas of human rights and that this legacy is continuing.17 Likewise, Makau Mutua has argued that both in spirit and practice the current human rights regime remains part of a world order that favors Western societies and the humanity of white people.18 With the Enlightenment the prevailing ideology and world order of colonialism held that racial differences made white people possess greater dignity than people of color. Human dignity (or the equal worth of Man) was seen as conditional on a capacity for reason and Western-style civilization, which white people—white men in particular—possessed, but not people of color. Moreover, whereas European civilization was superior—indeed, the defi nition of civil and a culmination of history—other cultures and societies populated by people of color were more or less uncivilized, primitive, barbaric and savage. Hence, it was the responsibility of enlightened white Europeans to civilize and transform the rest of the world into its own image. At the same time, it was taken for granted that for their own material benefit white Europeans had the right to rule and exploit non-European peoples and lands. An argument can be made that the post-WWII universal human rights regime in some key respects—albeit not exclusively—represents a continuation of this tradition. First, the universal human rights regime is inscribed in a tradition of taking the human dignity of some people for granted while putting into question or denying the human dignity of others. The history of human rights is such that, beginning with the Enlightenment, equality of dignity and rights only applied to white men. As Charles Mills has pointed out, from its inception society understood as a social contract to uphold equal rights was in theory as well as practice essentially a racial contract for white men.19 It was only white men who (by other white men) were thought to have full personhood, equal worth and rights. This racial and gendered exclusivity was bound up with ideas that it was only white men who possessed the sufficient reasoning capacities to be given full civil and political rights and be equal citizens. Although equal civil and political rights subsequently were expanded to include women, people of color, indigenous peoples and others, the conditions for being perceived as worthy of equal rights (to white men) largely remained. Human rights—including liberal rights and post-WWII universal human rights—have always been bound up with notions that equal dignity and rights depend on capacities for reasoning and Western-style civilization. 20 It is because of such notions that, say, Olympe De Gouge two years after the

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

91

French Revolution objected in Declaration of the Rights of Women (1791) that white men wanted to “command as a despot a sex which is in full possession of its intellectual faculties,” that Mary Wollstonecraft a year later in A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1792) asserted the equal worth and rights of white women by asserting that they too possess reason 21 or that Sojourner Truth in her speech “Ain’t I a Woman?” (1851) more subversively questioned the condition of equal intellect: “What’s that got to do with women’s rights or Negroes’ rights? If my cup won’t hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn’t you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full?”22 This tradition of understanding dignity in terms of a capacity for reason— which informs both Western traditions of human rights and racism 23 —is inscribed in the fi rst article of The Universal Declaration of Human Rights that, “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.”24 This suggests that human beings are born free and equal in rights and dignity and should act toward each other in a spirit of brotherhood because they are endowed with reason and conscience.25 Such positing of a capacity for reason as a criterion of human dignity is continuous with a colonial history of taking the worth of white men for granted while making the worth of others uncertain and conditional. Although the universal rights regime may include some gestures toward an unconditional and truly universal human dignity by claiming to disassociate dignity from reason and a capacity for Western-style civilization, such gestures are at best ambiguous. For instance, the official anti-racism statement of the West and the United Nations, the four UNESCO Statements on race (1950, 1951, 1964 and 1967), all assert “with the utmost emphasis that equality as an ethical principle in no way depends upon the assertion that human beings are in fact equal in endowment.”26 Still, the only arguments against racism that the four Statements put forward are to the effect that—as in the 1967 Statement on Race and Racial Prejudice— “Differences in the achievements of different peoples should be attributed solely to their cultural history. The peoples of the world today appear to possess equal biological potentialities for attaining any level of civilization.”27 The Statements present no arguments that decouple a perceived capacity (or lack thereof) for reason and Western-style civilization from human dignity but merely deny that such capacities are determined by race. 28 Second, the current universal human rights regime is a pseudo-universal imposition of a Western-style liberal democratic society. The universal human rights regime posits Western liberal democracies as universal norms for societies that are humane and just and is as such ideologically continuous with the civilizing mission of European colonialism. Although human and civic rights may be said to represent a respect for human dignity generally speaking they are neither the final word on nor exhaustive of what it may mean for a society to respect human dignity. It may justly be claimed

92

Michael McEachrane

that some rights expressed in, say, The Universal Declaration of Human Rights—such as the right to life, not to be held in slavery or servitude or be subjected to torture—is fundamental to any society which respects human dignity. Call it a respect for “rights” or not, but it would be hard—if not impossible—to make sense of how a society can be said to respect human dignity while not respecting, say, people’s lives, health, basic needs of security and at least some basic freedoms. In this sense, there are at least some examples of how we relate to each other as human beings that anyone from any society is bound to agree represent a violation (or support) of human dignity. However, the prevailing human rights corpus takes a presumed agreement on what it may mean for a society to respect human dignity much further. It includes such supposedly universal human entitlements—which any morally, politically and in effect even existentially justified society or form of government need to abide by—as living in a society with laws, courts, legal assistance, due process, a penitentiary system as well as rights to political participation through periodic elections, freedom of expression, assembly, association and dissemination of ideas. In short, as Makau Mutua points out, the prevailing universal human rights regime—especially as expressed in its two core documents, The Universal Declaration of Human Rights and The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights—in actuality represents a right to live in a Western-style liberal democratic state. 29 What is more, rather than treating the so-called universal human rights as experimental expressions of seeking to respect human dignity they—and especially the core liberal civil and political rights—are viewed as a universal formula for creating a just society and tend to be accepted as the fi nal truth.30 In other words, rather than treating human rights as the result of an open-ended conversation about what it may mean to create societies that respect human dignity, the current universal rights regime puts Western liberal democracies in the position of being the universal standard for how societies that respect human dignity ought to be constructed and the end point or culmination of any societal development. Hence, it also puts them in the position of being custodians of social justice in the world and seeing it as natural or expedient, not to mention desirable, that their civilization be spread to the rest of humanity. Moreover, it puts so-called underdeveloped non-Western societies in the position of being measured and having to measure themselves by a supposedly universal standard of liberal democratic rights, not to mention having to mimic or adopt Western-style liberal democracy in order to be judged—by Western states, the United Nations, the World Bank and other powers—as just and legitimate.31 In this sense, the current universal human rights regime actually represents a disrespect for universal human dignity in that it does not pay an equal respect to societies around the world and their own cultural resources in their attempts to achieve human equality. Moreover, it continues rather than disrupts notions that white Westerners and the societies that they have

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

93

created and inhabit are universal standards for what is humane, good, just, civil, developed, and so on, whereas the rest of humanity is humane, good and otherwise acceptable to the extent that it approximates the societies of white Westerners.32 Third, the current universal human rights regime makes respect for human dignity an intra-state affair—while ignoring and perpetuating unequal respect for human dignity in international relations. The current universal human rights regime continues the rights tradition of the Enlightenment by establishing international bills of rights representing the respect of states for the human dignity of its members. In the universal human rights regime there are few, if any, rights that go beyond the responsibility of states vis-à-vis its members and others within its borders (such as asylum seekers). One could—and as a matter of consequence perhaps should— interpret universal rights like, “Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of person” and “Everyone has the right to seek and to enjoy in other countries asylum from persecution,” as rights of any person to belong to a state that respects their human dignity and that if their own state does not respect them then they are entitled to move to and be received by any other state they wish and that all states are obliged to receive such refugees so long as it is practically possible. 33 However, this is not the common practice of universal human rights. Article 13 of the Universal Declaration states that, “Everyone has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country.” But this right to leave countries is not matched by a universal right to enter countries, not even as an asylum seeker—far from it. Rather, in both theory and practice the focus of universal human rights is on the responsibility of states vis-à-vis their members. The focus of universal human rights on the responsibility of states visà-vis their members is only a partial respect for human dignity. Although it obliges states to respect the dignity of their members—and to some extent aliens residing within their borders and refugees—it does not (at least not explicitly) address the responsibility of states vis-à-vis the dignity of members of other states. One could—and perhaps as a matter of consequence should—interpret universal human rights such that any institutional arrangements or actions of a state that may affect the human rights of members of other states is with regard to human rights also the responsibility of that state. Human rights are human rights no matter whose they are, one could argue, and states have a responsibility to conduct themselves accordingly. 34 Nevertheless, beyond respecting national self-determination and the equality of rights of refugees or non-national residents as in the latest of the seven core UN Conventions on human rights, the Convention on the Protection of the Rights of All Migrant Families and Members of Their Families—which incidentally no Western country has signed—there are no human rights conventions or even articles that explicitly address the responsibility of states to respect the human dignity of members of other states.

94 Michael McEachrane This intra-state focus continues a world order of unequal respect for human dignity between countries. During the height of European colonialism of the 19th century, respect for equal dignity and rights did not extend to colonial subjects.35 As Kwame Nkrumah has pointed out, even after independence many former colonies became “neo-colonies” in that their economies and politics remained directed from outside.36 Whether or not we deem it neo-colonialism or -imperialism, there are today numerous examples of how, when it comes to respecting dignity and rights, Western states in particular have double-standards in relation to foreign (especially non-Western) states. These range from the not seldom unequal conditions under which Western corporations exploit natural resources and labor at home vis-à-vis abroad to the vastly unequal migration rights of Western vis-à-vis non-Western citizens.37 On the whole, the intra-state focus of the universal human rights regime allows for a situation where Western states: (a) present themselves as human rights champions while simultaneously disrespecting the human dignity of members of foreign (typically non-Western) states; (b) solely blame foreign—typically non-Western, so-called underdeveloped or developing— states for the violation of the human dignity of their members, disavow themselves responsibility of the violation of human rights of members of foreign states, and even exalt themselves as saviors of victims of human rights abuse in other parts of the world38; (c) perpetuate (or at least do not unequivocally break with) a racially charged history of a globally unequal respect for human dignity and rights; (d) continue an economical world order of unequal control and exploitation of human and natural resources. In conclusion, the three principal colonial continuations of the current universal human rights regime—that is, its biased criteria for possessing human dignity, pseudo-universal imposition of Western-style liberal democracy and intra-state focus—are relevant to understanding how Nordic societies position themselves in the world and in relation to their growing black populations. If the current universal regime in some key respects indeed represents a continuation of European colonialism, it is not an insight that belongs to the political culture of the Nordic countries. Instead, the images of themselves that Nordic societies have projected at least since the 1960s are as robustly egalitarian, humane, civil, in solidarity with poor and developing nations, anti-racist, with no colonial history to speak of and as staunch defenders of human rights.39 This is a self-image that on the one hand may engender a measure of “good will” with regard to racial equality, but which on the other hand perpetuates rather than challenges a view of oneself as representing a universal humanism without complicities in a colonial world order.

THE POLITICS OF RACE BLINDNESS In Sweden’s recent Discrimination Act of 2009, the term race is excluded. The fi rst section of the Act states that, “The purpose of this Act is to combat

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

95

discrimination and in other ways promote equal rights and opportunities regardless of sex, transgender identity or expression, ethnicity, religion or other belief, disability, sexual orientation or age.”40 The Act defi nes ethnicity as “national or ethnic origin, skin color or other similar circumstance.”41 Similarly, neither the Finnish Non-Discrimination Act nor the Norwegian Anti-Discrimination Act mentions race but respectively prohibit discrimination on the grounds of “ethnic or national origin” and “ethnicity.”42 In liberal democracies anti-discrimination laws are meant to protect constitutional guarantees of civic equality. As the Government Bill behind Sweden’s Discrimination Act asserts, anti-discrimination legislation “serves to safeguard the principle of the equal worth of all human beings and the right of everyone to be treated as individuals on equal terms.”43 Likewise the Bill stresses that the listed grounds of discrimination are meant to “indicate that the goal of inclusiveness and equality is most important for people who belong to groups that compared with other groups have a particularly vulnerable position in society.”44 The Nordic countries are world renowned for their dedication to equality, not least gender equality. Finland, Iceland and Sweden have gender equality provisions in their constitutions, all Nordic countries have extensive gender equality legislation, they are usually at the top of international gender parity comparisons and gender equality has become part of their national identities.45 With respect to grounds of discrimination, both gender and race stand out. For instance, in their central role in the modern European history of discrimination and struggles for civic equality, not to mention their visibility and the notions that often go with them of innate human differences. With this in mind it may seem inconsistent to emphasize gender but not race. Although, fair to say, there is some talk in Nordic politics of ethnicity and culture there is virtually no political acknowledgment of race.46 Why is that? The Government Bill behind the Swedish Discrimination Act states several reasons for excluding race. The basic argument in the Bill is that since there are no human races in a biological sense there really is no reason for using the term and that using it “would give legitimacy to racist beliefs and consolidate race as an existing category.”47 The Bill was an upshot of the European Union Racial Equality Directive (2000), which mandated member states to implement the principle of equal treatment between persons irrespective of racial or ethnic origin.48 The Directive states that, “The European Union rejects theories which attempt to determine the existence of separate human races. The use of the term ‘racial origin’ in this Directive does not imply an acceptance of such theories.”49 The Swedish Bill mentions this statement in conjunction with an absence of a definition in the Directive of “racial or ethnic origin” as license to exclude the term race from the Discrimination Act. On the whole, the Bill asserts, the term race has been used in Swedish as well as international anti-discrimination legislation “to protect individuals from actions founded in a wrongheaded perception that

96 Michael McEachrane an individual belongs to a particular race.”50 The Bill brings this logic to a conclusion by suggesting that the term race be excluded from Swedish antidiscrimination legislation so as to undercut racist beliefs and doubts that doing so will have any adverse effects: There is no reason to believe either that Sweden’s commitment to international conventions will be questioned or that the material protection against discrimination would decrease if race is not used in the new Discrimination Act. This is especially true if an addition to the expression of the defi nition “national or ethnic origin” and “skin color” is made with the words “other similar circumstance.” This should be understood as including, for instance, unfounded notions of “race.” 51 The view that race is an outmoded biological category without political validity has been commonplace in post-WWII Europe. The influential UNESCO Statements on race understood racism as the belief that humanity can be categorized into inferior and superior races with innate psychological and cultural characteristics. 52 Thus racism was understood as premised on the beliefs that discrete human races exist and that they have innate psychological and (by extension) cultural characteristics. The UNESCO Statements were statements against the validity of such beliefs and put forth many of the premises that since have become staples in anti-racialism arguments. For instance, that all human beings derive from a common stock; that human subpopulations however defi ned grade into each other and have mixed with other subpopulations; that although human subpopulations do exist with varying frequencies of one or a few genes these differences are minor when compared with the amount of genetic variation human beings share; that whatever group differences do exist are greatly overridden by individual differences; that the available scientific material does not justify the conclusion that the minor genetic variations between subpopulations are a major factor in producing cultural differences. 53 In light of such facts the Statements concluded that racism grossly falsifies the knowledge of human biology and that there are no human “races” in the sense that it assumes. Therefore, the fi rst UNESCO Statement on Race (1950) suggested that “it would be better when speaking of human races to drop the term ‘race’ altogether and speak of ethnic groups.”54 It is not merely the current Swedish, Finnish and Norwegian anti-discrimination acts that have followed this suggestion—post-WWII European politics in general have moved away from speaking of race to instead speak of ethnicity and culture. Today political questions of how to understand and accommodate diversity are almost exclusively couched in terms of ethnicity and culture (including religion). The main focus of such politics is on how to manage minorities of different cultures than the ethnic majorities.

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

97

Generally speaking, official mainstream European—not least Nordic— politics have increasingly tended toward a framework of mutual respect for cultural difference in accordance with liberal principles of equal dignity, freedom and rights. At the same time there has been a growing concern in Europe with virtual multiculturalism as being inherently problematic; manifest in the rise of nationalist parties like the Danish People’s Party, the True Finns, the Progress Party of Norway and the Sweden Democrats. As many scholars have pointed out, a great deal of this post-WWII focus on ethnicity and culture has merely shifted from notions of racial to cultural division, homogeneity and determination. 55 Above all, though, the post-WWII rejection of race has mostly served to obscure it. As the UN Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination notes in a recent report from 2013 deleting the term race from the Swedish Anti-Discrimination Act “may lead to difficulties with the qualification and processing of complaints of racial discrimination thus hindering the access to justice for victims.”56 In fact, eliminating the term race for ethnicity (including “skin color and other similar circumstance”) leaves us with no concept for speaking of people as white, black, East Asian and so on. It thereby prevents us from accurately addressing, not to mention redressing, what—besides gender—perhaps is the most pervasive form of discrimination in Sweden and the other Nordic countries. First, speaking of ethnicity is a poor substitute for speaking of race. Saying that someone is black, white or East Asian is not the same as pointing out their ethnicity. In some contexts it can be a way of referring to someone’s ethnicity as when, say, referring to something as being “black ethnic” and by that meaning “African American.” However, speaking in general of people as, for instance, black or white is to say nothing of their ethnic belonging. In fact, someone can be black and ethnically speaking be Oromo from Somalia, Huli from Papua New Guinea, Siddi from Pakistan, black Canadian or French. On the whole it would be confusing to speak of black or white people as ethnic groups, not only because their ethnic belonging may be undecided or various, but because insisting on speaking of them as such seems to suppose that they have a culture in common (which if nothing else is the kind of thinking that speaking of ethnicity instead of race was supposed to avoid in the fi rst place). Second, speaking of skin color is also a poor substitute for speaking of race. When someone is discriminated against because they are, say, black or East Asian it would be misleading to say that it merely was on the basis of their skin color. For instance, an East Asian may be lighter than a white European but still be subject to discrimination by them because they are East Asian. On the whole, when speaking of people as black, white and so on we are not referring to their skin tone per se. Rather typically such terms refer more generally to people’s appearances and ancestries (where skin tone may or may not be a decisive factor). In other words, either “skin color” is taken literally which will render it socially senseless—especially

98

Michael McEachrane

in an anti-discrimination act—or it refers to our routine talk of people as black, white, non-white and so on which are not a matter of skin color per se but race more generally.57 Third, it can be deeply misleading to say that races do not exist. Not least in a social sense. However, neither from a biological point of view is it obvious that human races do not exist. For example, the UNESCO Statements never claimed that there are no races, however understood, or that there is no place for concepts of race in science—only that there are no races in the sense that racism assumes. That is to say, however laypeople or scientists may divide people into races there is no evidence that these divisions represent, for instance, discrete categories with defi nitive boundaries, genetic homogeneity or innate psychological differences. 58 On the whole, as Jenny Reardon has pointed out, post-WWII, “many scientists, including the well-regarded founding father of population genetics, Theodosius Dobzhansky, would continue to fi nd ‘race’ useful long after its purported demise.”59 And even as population genetics has increasingly moved away from physical appearance to DNA as markers of race the concept is still used, although—beyond rejecting notions of essential differences between human populations—there is no broad scientifi c consensus on its biological status.60 Yet, whatever the biological reality of race there is no denying its social salience. A common misunderstanding—which, for example, the Swedish Discrimination Act is based on—is that the social salience of race necessarily is premised on beliefs in discrete human populations with innate psychological characteristics. On this understanding, to speak of race is to invoke such beliefs. In view of this it may seem perfectly sensible to avoid using the term, to want to banish it from anti-discrimination legislation and fi nd any references to it demoralizing—as if merely using the term is to give credence to such beliefs. It may also seem accurate to equate combating racial discrimination with a rejection of the term, the beliefs it represents and any actions or ideologies based on such beliefs. 61 It may even be tempting to assume that as post-WWII Europe largely and emphatically has thus rejected race it has also moved beyond itsave for individual lapses of prejudice and ideological extremism such as neo-Nazism.62 However, there are no grounds for reducing everyday references to people’s race to beliefs in discrete psychobiological populations. Again, ethnicity and skin color are poor substitutes for race. Neither, though, are references to people as black, white, non-white, Asian and so on by themselves references to discrete psychobiological groups. For instance, it makes perfect sense to speak of someone as “a white adolescent male about 6 feet tall” without presupposing the existence of discrete psychobiological groups (or biologically discrete populations, period). Indeed, references to people’s race can be, and often are, sufficiently based on visual markers.

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

99

These visual markers are socially contingent in that, for instance, who counts as white, black or other may vary from one society or other context to another. “Black” in the U.S. tends to encompass a range of hues and people who would not count as “black” in the Dominican Republic or Brazil. Racial references may also be tied to notions of ancestry, but in ways that are not necessarily reducible to beliefs in discrete psychobiological populations. For example—without hinging on such beliefs—it is perfectly possible that an individual of one black Ghanian and one white Danish parent come across as Middle Eastern to some, but by the same persons be thought of as black or “mixed” (rather than Middle Eastern or white) when found out what her parents are. To think even that racism or racial discrimination is reducible to beliefs in discrete psychobiological populations wildly underestimates the social roles of race. Attitudes of dislike, contempt, condescension, fear, anger, and so on, toward, say, East Asians, may be because of their looks, what they represent in terms of not being “like us,” imagined East Asian mores and other reasons which need not depend on beliefs that they have innate psychological characteristics or even that they are a biologically discrete group. Indeed, an anti-racist white Norwegian who detests theories of racial difference and superiority may still strongly prefer not to have East Asians or others who are not white as romantic partners, friends, family members, neighbors or co-workers because, say, in such circumstances people who are not white might disrupt their sense of homeliness and self, make them self-conscious of being white and anxious over their relation to a non-white other. A property owner may discriminate against black people or Roma as possible tenants in fear that they could devalue the property by making it less attractive on the market with or without assuming that they are discrete psychobiological populations. Similarly, the owner of a clothing store may discriminate against hiring a black shop assistant in the belief that this might turn away customers. And with or without beliefs in discrete psychobiological populations a man may act sexually demeaning toward a black woman because his aesthetic sensibilities are shaped such that he fi nds that white women can be beautiful and effeminate whereas black women at best are sexually vulgar and raunchy. To conclude, then, “the politics of race blindness”—which rejects references to race, claims that races do not exist and not seldom assumes that this is an exhaustive antiracist stance—is based on a skewed and narrow understanding. Of course, a person’s race should be no hindrance to equal dignity, respect, rights and opportunities. But rejecting race is a meager means towards this end. Rather, the widespread post-WWII political rejection of race has led to a bizarre situation where race is said to have no meaning whereas an argument can be made that in Europe few if any social distinctions have more meaning.

100

Michael McEachrane

WHITE SUPREMACY Given the widespread political rejection of race in Nordic and other European countries one could assume that its social significance is marginal. Given the prevalent talk of multiculturalism one could also think that in today’s Europe it is ethnicity and religion that pose the greatest challenge to civic equality, mutuality and cohesion. On this logic, the most decisive line of division between national insiders and outsiders is whether or not one is ethnically Danish, Norwegian, Swedish and so on. In reality, though, race is more central to European societies than either ethnicity or religion. According to a recent cross-European OECD study the immigrant groups who are most likely to see themselves as discriminated against are Sub-Saharan Africans followed by immigrants from North Africa, Latin America and Asia.63 The native-born off spring of immigrants—so-called second generation immigrants—are even more likely than their parents to see themselves as belonging to a discriminated group.64 In general, across Europe residents of a non-European origin tend to be subjected to the most widespread and chronic forms of discrimination—and amongst this group black people and Romas are often the most vulnerable.65 As many scholars have pointed out before, even in a country like Sweden the patterns of discrimination and segregation in society reflect a centuries old colonial world order with white Europeans on top and black Africans on the bottom.66 This is true of harassment. In Sweden there were more reported hate crimes in 2011 against black people than any other racial, ethnic or religious group.67 Similarly, according to the most comprehensive survey to date on minority discrimination in Europe, The European Union Minorities and Discrimination Survey from 2009, black Africans and Romas experience the highest rates of serious harassment in the EU—and among the most targeted groups are Somalis in Finland and Denmark.68 It is true of the labor market. In Sweden non-European immigrants in general and immigrants from Africa in particular have the country’s highest rates of unemployment regardless of how long they have lived there.69 Even after twenty years in Sweden and factoring in for example level of education, age, gender and marital status, chances to be unemployed still are at least twice as high for Africans than the national average.70 African immigrants with university degrees seldom have jobs that require higher education and among migrants who have obtained their academic qualifications in Sweden, migrants from Africa and Asia have the lowest chances of fi nding a suitably qualified job.71 Even residents who are born in Sweden with parents from Africa seem to have a much harder time fi nding employment than do native residents with a European background.72 And those African immigrants who are lucky enough to have a job generally seem to experience more discrimination at work than any other group.73

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

101

It is true of the housing market. Across Europe African immigrants are overrepresented in so called “ethnic neighborhoods,” which has more to do with discrimination and segregation than either preference or acculturation.74 In Sweden residents who are born in Africa are most likely to live in rented apartments, least likely to live in houses or apartments that they own and most likely to live in low-income neighborhoods dominated by foreignborn residents—with high concentrations of non-European, so-called “visible minorities”—whereas migrants from other European countries are most likely to live in neighborhoods dominated by native-born residents.75 Such differences remain even after factoring in employment or level of education. For example, according to one study migrants from Ethiopia generally had higher employment and income levels than migrants from Bosnia and Herzegovina yet were more likely to live in segregated neighborhoods.76 It is true of education. It is well-known that especially in major cities like Stockholm, Gothenburg and Malmö the gap in educational performance is rapidly widening between schools where—much like in the U.S. and elsewhere—the most underperforming schools are typically found in racially segregated neighborhoods.77 As The European Commission against Racism and Intolerance (ECRI) states in its fourth report on Sweden from 2012, discrimination in the housing market—which particularly affects Afro-Swedes, Romas, Muslims and asylum seekers—contributes to such educational segregation and inequality.78 Such patterns should come as no surprise to anyone who is the least familiar with modern race relations—not only in Europe but also in former European colonies such as the U.S., Latin America, South Africa, Australia and New Zealand. Still, there is especially in the Nordic countries a widespread resistance to accept that racial stratification and the social, political and economic legacy of colonialism is relevant to their societies. A commonplace image of Nordic societies is that they merely have been bystanders to European colonialism, are unscathed by notions of white superiority, and, to the contrary, are progressive humanitarians. So progressive that they—as in the case of Finland, Norway and Sweden—do not even give race proper credence as grounds of discrimination.79 A contradiction presents itself in the insistence that race should not matter when in fact it does. If it was true that society largely was race-neutral and racial discrimination merely was enacted by a few ideological extremists holding on to outmoded beliefs, then a race-blind politics may have been justified. But in a society where being perceived as white or not has a significant bearing on individual welfare, state-sanctioned blindness is itself a form of discrimination that preserves the status quo of racial inequalities. Even if race were acknowledged as grounds of discrimination, relying on anti-discrimination law alone to ensure equal treatment presupposes that racial discrimination is not an extensive social problem. For instance, in Sweden there were only two civil judgments fi nding ethnic discrimination in 2011.80

102

Michael McEachrane

The contradiction is all the more glaring as not only do the social significances of race greatly exceed beliefs in naturally unequal psychobiological human populations, but even such beliefs, although not officially espoused, are still widespread. According to a study from 2011, consistently about one third of native Europeans (in eight different countries) answered affi rmatively when asked if they believe that there is a natural hierarchy between black and white people.81 Hence, if equality of dignity and rights are to be respected in Nordic and other European countries race needs to be re-politicized rather than avoided. As long as, say, not being perceived as a white European is socially significant and a common grounds of discrimination, race is a socially and politically significant category. Judging from the patterns of discrimination and exclusion in European societies, it is all too clear that at the bottom of European divisions between a national “us” and a foreign “them” we do not fi nd ethnicity or religion, but race.82 Although de jure colonialism and racial disenfranchisement for those who already are citizens may be history in Europe and many of its former colonies, white supremacy is still a cognitive, political, juridical, economic and cultural force to be reckoned with.83 It is still the case that being white in Europe and its former colonies gives a person significant advantages in terms of, say, having one’s human dignity asserted, rights respected, national belonging affirmed, histories valued or physical appearance desired. What is needed, then, is a consciousness of race similar to how feminism has made inroads into mainstream Nordic politics. Although there is still much work to be done in Nordic politics toward gender equality there is a broad recognition of differential power relations between men and women as well as how men—mostly white men, although consciousness of this is sorely lacking—are construed as the norm in most areas of society. It is not alien to mainstream Nordic politics to say that gender roles and relations are broadly unequal, that the privileged position of men can hinder their understanding of the less privileged position of women or that positive measures are needed to promote gender equality. Nor is it an alien idea that the personal is political in that inequalities are expressed in our personal relations as much as in public affairs and that even personal relations need to be politicized in order to achieve equality. In Nordic and other European societies race relations too are inscribed in relations of power and domination and are in dire need of being politicized even in our personal lives.84 Finally, what is essential when speaking of white supremacy—similarly to how we would speak of, for example, patriarchy or class society85 —is not that race stands for socially well-defined and discrete groups of people, because it clearly does not. For example, who is and who is not perceived as white may vary from one society or context to another so that, for instance, a person who is born in Sweden with parents from Iran may pass as white in some contexts but not others. What is crucial, though, is that the social

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

103

order of society will tend toward valuing white people and devaluing people of color, black people in particular.

EMBODYING EQUALITY To conclude, it would be misleading to describe Nordic and other European states as race- neutral (or race-equal) and based on a universal respect for human dignity. Rather they are better described as racial states that both in theory and practice privilege the humanity of white people. The principal theoretical architects of the modern European liberal democratic state such as John Locke, Jean-Jacques Rousseau and John Stuart Mill thought that white people and people of color were unequal in dignity and rights.86 Even today’s universal human rights regime can—despite its proclamations of non-discrimination—be said to privilege the dignity of white people. In practice European liberal democratic nation-states have a continuing history of affirming the humanity especially of white men while questioning, denying and violating the humanity of people of color. Today this is manifest internally, for example, in the racial patterns of discrimination and marginalization found in Sweden and other European countries or the great many ways in which mass media in European societies follow what Eduardo Bonilla-Silva calls the “racial grammar” of making the humanity and desirability of white people universal and normative.87 Externally it is manifest, for example, in the unequal respect for the labor, welfare and natural resources of Westerners vis-à-vis peoples of color in developing and underdeveloped nations or the unequal visa requirements in the EU for citizens from developing and underdeveloped nations compared to citizens from other Western countries.88 Describing Nordic and other European countries as racial states puts into purview Jürgen Habermas’ description of European nation-states as Janus-faced. On the one hand, they derive their liberal democratic legitimacy from a respect for human dignity. On the other hand, they are based on ethnic membership.89 This fusion of civic and ethnic belonging, Habermas rightly claims, “must be dissolved if it is to be possible for different cultural, ethnic, and religious forms of life to coexist and interact on equal terms within the same political community.”90 This tension between universalism and ethnic precedence may be dissolved, he suggests, by giving priority to a cosmopolitan understanding of the nation and substituting ethnonational patriotism with what he calls constitutional patriotism based on a common adherence to constitutional principles such as popular sovereignty and human rights.91 Although European liberal democratic states indeed are Janus-faced they are more fundamentally racial than ethnic. As I have argued, not even universal human rights are race-neutral. What is needed, then, to deracialize Nordic and other European nation-states is a more elemental respect for human dignity than a respect for constitutional rights and the like.92

104

Michael McEachrane

Liberal democratic constitutions, human and civic rights, popular sovereignty, and so on, may be said to represent a respect for the human person qua human person. Indeed, respect for human dignity is the most fundamental principle of liberal democracy and universal human rights. This principle is enshrined in the fi rst sentence of the preamble of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (“Whereas recognition of the inherent dignity and of the equal and inalienable rights of all members of the human family is the foundation of freedom, justice and peace in the world”) as well as in its fi rst article (“All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights”). The twin principle of a respect for human dignity is equal respect for human dignity without discrimination. This principle is enshrined in the second article of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (“Everyone is entitled to all the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration, without distinction of any kind, such as race, colour, sex, language, religion . . . ”) and also, for example, in articles 20–26 of the EU Charter (which include equality before the law, non-discrimination, respect for diversity, gender equality, rights of the child, rights of the elderly and integration of persons with disabilities).93 In this sense, it is fair to say that when properly understood the ultimate end of liberal democracy and universal human rights are societies that advance and protect human dignity without discrimination. This end is the ultimate justification of any particular bill of rights or institutional arrangement. It is also an end that no bill of rights or institutional arrangement exhausts. A liberal democratic state—or any other state for that matter—that self-consciously and consistently cultivates a political and civic culture oriented toward this end could be described as an equality zone. Describing liberal democratic states as equality zones grounded in a political and civic culture of respect for human dignity without discrimination gives us a philosophically consequential norm for liberal democracies— more than “constitutional patriotism” and the like would suggest—as well as a means to deracialize them. First, it makes clear that respecting human dignity or the equal moral worth of all is or ought to be their primary objective. An unequivocal emphasis on fostering a society that respects the inherent moral dignity of the human person without discrimination in contrast to a tradition of conscribing equality of dignity and rights to race, ethnicity, gender, class and nationality—should serve to animate liberal democracies with moral and political purpose. Second, instead of viewing human and civic rights as ultimate or absolute standards, posing respect for human dignity as their rationale serves to denaturalize and demystify them as mere attempts—however successful or flawed—to establish basic standards of such respect. This allows us to view human and civic rights—the universal human rights regime not least—as experiments in an open-ended conversation rather than as fi nal words. This in turn allows us to consider how current human rights

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

105

instruments—perhaps by their very nature—may offer insufficient protection of human dignity, for example, in international relations. Similarly, it allows us to demand that liberal democratic states enforce the human and civic rights they are bound by while at the same time being critical of the current universal human rights regime as insufficiently humane. Furthermore, it encourages us to be wary of the “civilizing” aspects of the universal human rights regime and a long-standing tradition of viewing liberal democracy and other Western-style societies as universal destiny. Third, placing human and civic rights, the rule of law, popular sovereignty, universal suffrage and education, and so on, in a context of striving to create societies that honor the equal moral worth of the human person emphasizes the wider political and civic culture needed for its success. Understanding liberal democratic states as equality zones—even if unfi nished and in the making—allows us to recognize that what is needed to fulfill their imperative is a wider political and civic culture than, say, a love of the constitution and its principles or a culture of human rights. Rather, the emphasis is on a political culture that in so far as it is functional—that is, adheres to the key principle of its society—primarily is concerned with exploring how to best create a society (and a world) that without discrimination honors the inherent dignity of the human person. Similarly, proper emphasis is placed on a civic (or more generally public) culture with customs, discourses, widespread virtues and a national identity premised on such an objective. Fourth, advancing liberal democratic states as equality zones puts racism and other forms of group-based oppression in their proper moral and political context of social justice—that is to say, a social order that honors the equal moral worth of all. Arguably, what is most morally troubling about racism is that it devalues the lives and integrity of some people on the basis of their racial—or more broadly racial, ethnic, national and/or religious—membership. Indeed, racism can itself commonly be described as manners—be they social or personal—of devaluing (e.g. not taking seriously, dismissing or being contemptuous of) the feelings, needs, desires, thoughts, actions, customs, and so on, of some people on the basis of their race. In this sense, racism dehumanizes and may be described as a denial or diminishing of human dignity. As many black feminists have pointed out—such as Kimberlé Crenshaw, Patricia Hill Collins and Philomena Essed—this makes racism similar to other forms of denying or diminishing people’s human dignity on the basis of, for instance, gender, ethnicity, nationality, disability, class or sexual orientation. And, as black feminists also teach us, our social positions and the forms of group-based oppression that we may be subjected to are informed by intersecting categories such as race, gender and class.94 This points to why racism should not be understood—either factually, morally or politically—in isolation from other forms of group oppression. For example, factually black women may be demeaned in ways that are particular to them

106

Michael McEachrane

as black women. Morally, racism like many other forms of group oppression is a violation of human dignity. Politically, racism is a social injustice. Hence, understanding liberal democracies as equality zones places racism in the context of other forms of violation of human dignity and intimates what the proper goal of anti-racism ought to be—namely, a social order that honors the equal moral worth of all regardless of race, ethnicity, religion, culture or nationality. It should be clear that such a social order is not necessarily blind to race or “raceless”—where race has little or no social significance—and that being blind to race in the face of a racially stratified social order is politically misguided. Rather, what is needed at the most elemental political level is a revitalized humanism capable of being mindful and inclusive of social positions (such as being a woman and black). Such a humanism will need to be, as Paul Gilroy puts it, “derived from an explicit moral and political opposition to racism in order to project a different humanity” capable of interrupting the “exclusionary humanisms that characterize most human-rights talk.”95 Fifth, liberal democratic equality zones dissolve racially, ethnically and even geographically exclusive conceptions of nationhood. Beyond having special responsibilities for the dignity of people who fall under their jurisdiction and whose will they answer directly to, as a matter of principle equality zones—in so far as they are functional—make no distinction with respect to human dignity between national insiders and outsiders. In every respect the borders of liberal democratic equality zones will be as porous as is possible in combination with cultivating and sustaining geographically enclosed—and when successful flourishing—societies based on a respect for human dignity without discrimination. Rather than pursuing narrow self-interest in the name of national sovereignty, such nations will be inclined to seek out cooperation with other nations and view it as integral to their identities to cultivate a respect for the equal dignity of human beings in international relations. Internally they will view it as integral to their identities to resolutely work against the grain of white supremacy—as well as gender inequality, xenophobia and so on—towards a society that does not privilege the human dignity of certain people before others and which in principle is open to any human being on equal terms.96 NOTES 1. Thanks to Utz McKnight and Paul Lappalainen for comments on an earlier draft of this chapter. 2. The Government of Sweden, “Chapter 1: Basic Principles of the Form of Government,” The Constitution of Sweden: the Fundamental Laws and the Riksdag Act, Stockholm: Sveriges Riksdag, 2012, Article 2, 80. 3. The egalitarianism of the “Nordic Welfare Model” is largely due to the influence of Social Democracy. As one of the chief ideologues of the Swedish Social Democrats for many years, Alva Myrdal, explained in a speech at a party congress in 1969, Social Democracy goes beyond the basic liberal

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

4. 5. 6.

7. 8.

9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

107

tenets of equal moral worth, equality before the law and equality of opportunity to include equal access to the basic resources of society—a “democratization of the economy” as Myrdal calls it. As she also makes clear in the speech, Nordic Social Democracy typically seeks (or at least sought) to be consequential in its egalitarianism by expanding it to include solidarity for the poor nations of the world beyond the borders of the state (Alva Myrdal, “Tillägg: Från partikongressen 1969. Alva Myrdals föredragning,” in Jämlikhet. Första rapport från SAP-LO:s arbetsgrupp för jämlikhetsfrågor. Från partikongressen 1969: Alva Myrdals föredragning och Kongressens beslut, eds. Alva Myrdal et al. (Stockholm: Bokförlaget Prisma, 1969)). The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 1948. E.g. Habermas 1999, 105–127; Moyn 2010, 13. By “civic rights” I mean any rights (including civil, political and cultural rights) that one might have or be subject of as a member of a state (e.g. as a citizen or resident). It is not without reason that the Nordic countries have an international reputation of championing human rights. For instance, in 2009 Norway and Sweden accepted the highest amount of asylum seekers per capita in Europe (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, 2010, 42). And if commitment to foreign aid and security in developing countries is any measure of commitment to universal human rights, then Denmark, Norway and Sweden are world leading (with Finland in seventh place), according to a recent report by the Center for Global Development (Roodman, 2012). European Commission, 2000. European Convention, 2007, 17. The Human Rights Commission had included the word dignity in the Universal Declaration to emphasize that every human being is worthy of respect and the word was meant to explain why human beings have rights to begin with (Glendon 2001, 146). For more on human dignity as a justification for human rights see e.g. Shultziner, 2007 and Habermas, 2010. Orend, 2002, 87–89. Glendon, 2001, 146. Cf. Donnelly, 2003, 14. Government of Iceland, 1999, Article 65 The Norwegian Storting, 2012, Article 110c. Such an outlook seems to be expressed in the preamble to the Charter of the Fundamental Rights of the EU: “Conscious of its spiritual and moral heritage, the Union is founded on the indivisible, universal values of human dignity, freedom, equality and solidarity . . . ” (European Commission, 2000, 8). Similarly, in his 1944 study, An American Dilemma: The Negro Problem and Modern Democracy, the Swedish economist Gunnar Myrdal spoke of a moral contradiction of holding liberty and equality of opportunity in high esteem while denying them to black people. General Assembly of the United Nations, 1965, Article 1.1. Césaire, 2000, 37. Mills, 1997, 1998. Mutua, 2002. Mills, 1997. For the social contract as a gender contract, see Pateman, 1988. I do not mean to pretend that it is clear how a quintessential human capacity for “reason” should be understood (not to mention more contemporary incarnations of understanding human nature in terms of “intelligence”). In this Enlightenment tradition it is usually an ability to “reason” (or to be “intelligent,” “rational” and the like) which more generally makes human beings capable of autonomy, self-cultivation, civilization, history,

108

21.

22. 23.

24. 25.

Michael McEachrane progress, modernity, science, technology, morality, laws and democratic co-existence. Wollstonecraft, 2001. “In what does man’s pre-eminence over the brute creation consist?” Wollstonecraft asked: “The answer is as clear as that a half is less than the whole; in Reason” (from the introduction to A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, Wollstonecraft, 2001, 103). Of (white) women Wollstonecraft said that “if they are really capable of acting like rational creatures, let them not be treated like slaves; or, like the brutes who are dependent on the reason of man, when they associate with him . . . ” (Ibid, 105). Truth, 1851. A prime example of this, according to Charles W. Mills and others, may be found in the Enlightenment philosopher Immanuel Kant (e.g. Mills, 2005, 1997; Bernasconi, 2001). Kant held that it is man’s ability to make (generalizable) judgments about right or wrong and act out of reason (why one should act one way rather than another) rather than mere inclination which makes him a moral animal with a distinct human dignity, able to be impartial and fair, lay down laws, follow them and acknowledge rights. At the same time Kant developed a theory of race which placed white men in possession of reason (and thereby dignity) while denying the equal possession of reason (and thereby dignity) to women and people of color. It is a matter of some controversy, though, exactly what Kant understood human dignity to be and how central it was to his moral and political thought (see e.g. von der Pfordten, 2009 and Parfit, 2011, 156–168). For more on Kant’s views on dignity and race see e.g. Eze, 1997 and Bernasconi, 2001 and for race during the Enlightenment more generally see e.g. Chapter 5 of Israel, 2006. If we are to believe Pauline Kleingeld, Kant later rejected his earlier views on an innate connection between race and reason, avoided any psychological characterizations of race, opposed European slavery and colonialism and asserted human rights irrespective of racial belonging. Yet, he never abandoned an understanding of human dignity in terms of reason—only that it was the exclusive province of white men (see Chapter 4, Kleingeld, 2012). The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 1948, article 1. This is a “Kantian” interpretation of the second sentence of the fi rst article. It is also the standard understanding of the inherent moral worth of the human person in a long Western tradition reaching back to the Stoics. Johannes Morsink (2009), though, has argued that the second sentence of the article was not meant to be a statement about the nature of human dignity, but to express a common moral understanding (or ability to arrive at moral truths). But he gives no convincing arguments that the Universal Declaration is iconoclastic in this sense other than that the drafters wanted to avoid phrasing human rights as grounded in “nature.” Besides, he cites René Cassin’s draft of the fi rst article, which makes a “Kantian” interpretation all the more obvious: “All men are brothers. Being endowed with reason, they are members of one family. They are free and possess equal dignity and rights” (27; cf. also Morsink, 1999, 296). Neither does Morsink comment on Cassin’s “Kantian” explanation of this draft: “The text was trying to convey the idea that the most humble of the most different races have among them the particular spark that distinguishes them from animals, and at the same time obligates them more grandeur and to more duties than any other beings on earth” (28). As Morsink notes, though, before a fi nal draft of the fi rst article was settled several (primarily) non-Western representatives to the UN objected to “reason and conscience” as defi ning attributes of human dignity precisely because of their exclusive nature (Morsink, 1999, 297–302).

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

109

26. This quote is from the 1950 UNESCO Statement on Race (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, 1969, 34). Similar statements are made in the other three statements, 1951, 1964 and 1967. E.g. in the 1964 statement one can read that, “We wish to emphasize that equality of opportunity and equality in law in no way depend, as ethical principles, upon the assertion that human beings are in fact equal in endowment” (Ibid., 47). Appropriately, the 1950 Statement says that in racism “the characteristics in which human groups differ from one another are often exaggerated and used as a basis for questioning the validity of equality in the ethical sense” (Ibid., 34). And the 1967 Statement states that a “particularly striking obstacle to the recognition of equal dignity for all is racism” (Ibid., 50). Still, the arguments in the UNESCO Statements against racism and for the equal dignity for all are exclusively about refuting racialism. 27. Ibid., 50–51. The same Statement characteristically defi nes racism as “antisocial beliefs and acts which are based on the fallacy that discriminatory intergroup relations are justifiable on biological grounds” and argues that racism “falsely claims that there is a scientific basis for arranging groups hierarchically in terms of psychological and cultural characteristics that are immutable and innate” (Ibid., 51). 28. On the whole, standard anti-racist arguments are of the form that a capacity for reason and Western-style civilization is not determined by race. Variants of this form may be found in arguments that a person’s race is no measure of their mental aptitude, race does not determine culture, differences in civilization are due to socio-historical circumstances and not biology, Africans are capable of civilization too, the rationality of “primitive” cultures is not inferior but merely different or that there are multiple forms of intelligence and that different cultures emphasize and cultivate different intelligences. Hannah Arendt is one example of someone who argued extensively against racism while seeing a display of reason and (Western-style) civilization as a condition for dignity and who therefore remained ambiguous about the dignity and full humanity of some peoples—such as the South African “Hottentots”—who she thought lacked such display (see e.g. Klausen, 2010). 29. Ibid. For more on that internationally recognized human rights require a liberal regime, see e.g. Donnelly, 1986. 30. Cf. Mutua, 2002, e.g. 11–12 and 39–47. 31. I.e. through the enforcement by the United Nations, international law, development aid programs, NGOs and others, non-Western countries are thus pressured to transform their societies into Western-style liberal democratic states and abandon whatever parts of their cultures that do not mesh with such a “universal” society (cf. Mutua, 2002). One could also compare this to the recently established United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (2007). Here the rights of indigenous peoples are not cast as (universal) human rights, but as rights to be respected as different. The preamble states that “all doctrines, policies and practices based on or advocating superiority of peoples or individuals on the basis of national origin or racial, religious, ethnic or cultural differences are racist, scientifically false, legally invalid, morally condemnable and socially unjust . . . ” Still, the doctrines, policies and practices of the universal human rights regime seems to be both based on and to advocate the inherent superiority (including human universality) of Western-style liberal democracy and to judge all other societies and cultures according to its standards. 32. In other words, it continues rather than disrupts notions that non-Western peoples and cultures are more or less uncivilized, barbaric, savage and primitive, and need to be saved, civilized, enlightened, developed—that is to say,

110 Michael McEachrane

33. 34. 35.

36. 37.

38. 39. 40. 41.

42. 43. 44. 45.

become Westernized/Europeanized. Cf. what Mutua (2002, chapter 1) has to say about the savage-victim-savior metaphor of human rights. Articles 3 and 14.1 of The Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948). For an interpretation of universal human rights along those lines, see Orend, 2002, 136–139. There is something to be said about The Universal Declaration of Human Rights as a response to the Nazi atrocities of WWII. Despite the fact that European countries had committed similar atrocities across the seas for centuries it was not until they were brought home that the Western world reacted. As Aimé Césaire put it, before Western states were the victims of Nazism “they were its accomplices; that they tolerated that Nazism before it was infl icted on them. That they absolved it, shut their eyes to it, legitimated it, because, until then, it had been applied only to non-European peoples,” and hence that it did not seem to be Hitler’s crime against humanity as such that troubled the West but “that he applied to Europe colonialist procedures which until then had been reserved exclusively for the Arabs of Algeria, the coolies of India, and the blacks of Africa” (Césaire, 2000, 36). Or as Makau Mutua writes “no one should miss the irony of brutalizing colonial powers pushing for the Nuremberg trials and the adoption of the UDHR” (Mutua, 2002, 16). Nkrumah, 1965. In recent years there have been some attempts by the UN to establish a framework and some guiding principles for multinational corporations with respect to human rights, but these attempts have not yet resulted in any laws (Ruggie, 2013). And as Antoine Pécoud and Paul de Guchteneire says of the unequal migration rights of Western vis-à-vis non-Western citizens, “Mobility is a privilege that is unevenly distributed among human beings: citizens from developed countries may travel and settle down almost anywhere in the world, while their fellow human beings from less-developed countries depend upon the uncertain issuance of visas and residence permits to migrate. In this respect, citizenship is a birthright privilege that is difficult to justify” (Pécoud, 2007, 9). See Mutua, 2002, Chapter 1, for the savage-victim-savior metaphor of human rights discourse. See e.g. Lappalainen, 2005 about the self-image of Sweden after the war as a “moral super-power,” 24, 91 and 109 and Palmberg, 2009 for the self-image of “Nordic exceptionalism” vis-à-vis colonialism and its aftereffects. Government of Sweden, 2008. The Discrimination Act was passed in 2008 and came into effect in 2009. Ibid. The term race has also been removed from the revised Swedish Constitution of 2011. For example, Article 12 under Chapter 2 (“Fundamental Rights and Freedoms”) now reads, “No act of law or other provision may imply the unfavorable treatment of anyone because they belong to a minority group by reason of ethnic origin, color, or other similar circumstances or on account of their sexual orientation” (The Government of Sweden, 2012, 85). Government of Finland, 2010; Government of Norway, 2006. Government of Sweden, 2007, 79. My translation. Ibid. For the constitutional gender parity provisions see: Government of Iceland, 1999, Article 65; Government of Finland, 1999, Chapter 2, Section 6; The Government of Sweden, 2012, Chapter 2, Article 13. In The Global Gender Gap Index 2012, published by the World Economic Forum, Iceland ranks fi rst in the world for gender parity, Finland second, Norway third, Sweden

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

46.

47. 48.

49. 50.

51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58.

59.

111

fourth and Denmark seventh (Hausmann, 2012). For how the ethnic majorities of the Nordic countries tend to identify themselves as gender egalitarian see e.g. Towns, 2002 and Longva, 2003. In the words of the Danish writers Jens-Martin Eriksen and Frederik Stjernfelt: “‘Race’ is no longer used as a valid form of identification, and all that is left is the culturalist argument. [ . . . ] No major political movement in Denmark or anywhere else in Europe bases its platforms on racism. Such a position is no longer held by an elite and is not represented by any but radical losers without political significance” (quoted in Lentin, 2011, 26). Government of Sweden, 2007, 120. My translation. Council of the European Union, 2000. In Sweden the EU Racial Equality Directive is usually translated as the Directive against Ethnic Discrimination. To date the Race Directive is the single most ambitious political measure against racism in the European Union and is part of a new wave of equality legislation in the European Union which puts a greater emphasis on human dignity and rights rather than economic efficiency (Mason, 2010, 1733–1734). Council of the European Union, 2000, 22. Government of Sweden, 2007, 119. My translation. Before the Bill an AntiDiscrimination Committee had made the same assertion in a government official report but did not see this as license to exclude the term (Government of Sweden, 2006). However, prior to that report the Swedish parliament had expressed concern that “the use of the word in constitutional texts is likely to foment prejudices” and suggested that “the government in international contexts should press for that the word race, used about humans, as far as possible be avoided in official texts” (Ibid, 287–288; my translation). Government of Sweden, 2007, 120. My translation. E.g. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, 1969, 51. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, 1969. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, 1969, 31. For an overview of this post-WWII move away from race toward ethnicity and culture see e.g. Lentin, 2000, 2005, 2011. For Nordic examples such as Sweden see e.g. Ålund, 1991; A. Ålund, 2003; and Kamali, 2006. CERD/C/SWE/CO/19, p. 2 In everyday conversation of course “color” is and may be used as a convenient metaphor or shorthand for race and perhaps as a way of emphasizing its social meanings (rather than any supposed biological reality). United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, 1969. The fi rst UNESCO Statement was even accompanied by a document entitled What Is Race? which explained: “Races share a general tendency to produce certain physical traits.” These traits include “hair, eyes, head shape, physique, etc.” (Reardon, 2004, 48). For more on the view on the biological reality of race of the fi rst UNESCO committee on race, see Reardon, 2004, 47–52. Neither did committee members behind the Statements cancel out the possibility of fi nding statistical racial differences in psychology, see e.g. Reardon, Race to the Finish: Identity and Governance in an Age of Genomics, 2004, 30–31. Reardon, 2004, 42. “‘Races,’ Dobzhansky argues in his classic Genetics and the Origin of Species, “may be defi ned as Mendelian populations of a species which differ in the frequencies of one or more genetic variants, gene alleles, or chromosomal structures” (Ibid.). Generally speaking, scientists began to “defi ne races as populations. Instead of pure types, races proved to be more

112

60.

61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72.

73. 74.

75.

76. 77.

Michael McEachrane like a statistician’s population. Physical traits might be expressed at a ‘higher frequency among members of the major groups to which they belong,’ but they always overlap with other groups” (Ibid., 48). However, even as physical anthropologists may have replaced the term race with populations much of the meanings remained the same (cf. e.g. Caspari, 2003, Reardon, Race to the Finish: Identity and Governance in an Age of Genomics, 2004). Cf. also the 1996 Statement on race of the American Association of Physical Anthropologists, “AAPA Statement on Biological Aspects of Race” (AAPA, 1996). That is, essential differences as opposed to statistical differences. For an overview of the status of race in genomic science (and biology writ large), see Reardon, Race to the Finish: Identity and Governance in an Age of Genomics, 2004. For some discussions on the reality of race in light of recent genomic science, see e.g. Maglo, 2011 and Shiao, 2012. Cf. Goldberg, 2009. Hesse, 2011. OECD, 2012, 149. OECD, 2012, 151. For overviews see e.g. European Agency for Fundamental Rights, 2009 and Gauci, 2011. E.g. Pred, 2000; McEachrane, 2001; Lappalainen, 2005. The Swedish National Council for Crime Prevention (Brå), 2012. European Agency for Fundamental Rights, 2009. Huggare, 2008, 13, 65. In 2009 residents born in Africa had an unemployment rate (24.7%) more than five times that of native Swedes (4.5%) (see Eriksson, 2011). Schierup, 2006, 59; cf. also Rydgren, 2004, 703. Huggare, 2008; Huggare, 2009; Rydgren, 2004, 702. In general, immigrants from European countries have much higher chances of fi nding employment in Sweden than those from non-European countries and this is true of the so-called second generation too (even after levels of education are factored in) (Socialstyrelsen, 2010, e.g. 12; Rooth, 2003, 788 and 794–795; Eriksson, 2006, 90). Swedish adoptees from Africa, Latin America, the Middle East and Asia have much lower chances of being employed than those who are from Nordic countries even when factoring human capital factors such as schooling, age and local unemployment rate (Rydgren, 2004, 706). As far as level of education goes some second-generation non-European immigrant groups have been found to have higher levels of education than native Swedes but still have higher unemployment rates (Rooth, 2003, 794–795). At the same time, despite their dire situation, according to a study done in 2006, African immigrants are the least represented in labor market programs (Eriksson, 2006, 135). Lappalainen, 2005, 292. Glikman, 2012. This, of course, is similar to the situation in the U.S. where it is well known that black people are likely to live in segregated communities (dominated by black and Hispanic residents) and that most white Americans are reluctant to live in neighborhoods where black people live (Semyonov, 2009). Huggare, 2008, 12, 49 and 56–57; Hjalmarsson, 2008, e.g. 31; Molina, 2005, e.g. 12. More than half of sub-saharan African migrants in Sweden live in highly segregated neighborhoods (Andersson, 2010, 57). Migrants from Western Europe even seem to be more (not less) likely to own their own housing than native Swedes (Hjalmarsson, 2008, 29). Lappalainen, 2005, 329. E.g. Andersson, 2010. Andersson et al.’s preferred terminology is neighborhoods dominated by “visible minorities.”

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

113

78. ECRI Secretariat, 2012, 8. 79. E.g. Pred, 2000; Sawyer, 2002; Palmberg, 2009; Lappalainen, 2005; McEachrane, 2001; Habel, 2009; T. Hübinette, 2009; Hübinette, 2012; T. Hübinette, 2012. 80. According to the Discrimination Ombudsman of Sweden, http://do.se/sv/. The EU Council is at least in part aware that anti-discrimination law alone may be insufficient. Hence Article 5 of the EU Racial Equality Directive states that, “With a view to ensuring full equality in practice, the principle of equal treatment shall not prevent any Member State from maintaining or adopting specific measures to prevent or compensate for disadvantages linked to racial or ethnic origin” (Council of the European Union, 2000). As the Commission stated in a 2005 Communication on non-discrimination and equal opportunities for all, the long-standing and persisting disadvantages experienced by some groups are such that a legal right to non-discrimination may be insufficient and positive measures necessary to improve equality of opportunity. These positive measures include, for example, specific training to members of groups that do not usually have access to such training or making sure that disadvantaged groups are well informed about available jobs. But they exclude “positive discrimination” which gives preference to members of a particular group over others for no other reason than belonging to that group (Commission of the European Communities, 2006). For an incisive critical race theory perspective on European law, see Möschel, 2011. 81. For instance, 34.6% in the UK, 32.4% in the Netherlands and 30.5% in Germany (Zick, 2011, 59). With a little greater variation between countries about half of native Europeans answered affi rmatively to the question if they believed that some races are more gifted than others (Ibid.). 82. Of course, one could also say that at the bottom of European ethnic identities is race (and the identity as white). It is important to point out here too that it is not only from patterns of discrimination on the job, housing markets, etc., that we can surmise that race is at the base of the national identities of Europe. This can also be surmised by studying e.g. the national and cultural historiographies of Europe or how being “human” and having “human dignity” has been and still is being conceptualized or the numerous ways in which being e.g. Norwegian or French has been understood as being white European. 83. E.g. Mills, White Supremacy as Sociopolitical System: A Philosophical Perspective, 2003. 84. To acknowledge that race relations are inscribed in relations of power and domination is to view racism as not merely an individual problem but a social problem too. As Philomena Essed pinpoints by speaking of “everyday racism”—individual incidents of racism should be understood as expressions or activations of group power (e.g. Essed, 1991, 37–43). It is against a common background of established social meanings and power relations that, say, demeaning, disliking or dismissing a person because she or he is black is possible and effective. This may, for example, be true of the asymmetry of negative stereotypes and derogative terms that are projected onto black people compared to white people. 85. Cf. Mills, White Supremacy as Sociopolitical System: A Philosophical Perspective 2003. 86. E.g. Mills, The Racial Contract 1997; Mehta, 1999; D. Goldberg, 2002. 87. Bonilla-Silva, 2012. 88. The European Union has a “white list” (recently relabeled “positive list”) of Western countries whose citizens are granted relatively free mobility to and

114 Michael McEachrane

89. 90. 91. 92.

93. 94. 95.

96.

within Europe without visas and a “black list” (recently relabeled “negative list”) of so-called developing and underdeveloped countries whose citizens have restrictive visa requirements for travel to the EU (Houtum, 2010). Habermas, The Inclusion of the Other: Studies in Political Theory 1998, 115. Ibid., 118. Ibid. Both Charles Mills and David Theo Goldberg speak of “deracializing” liberal states. See e.g. Charles W. Mills, “Liberalism and the Racial State,” in State of White Supremcy: Racism, Governance, and the United States, eds. Moon-Kie Jung, Joāo H. Costa Vargas, and Eduardo Bonilla-Silva (Stanford University Press), 27–46; David T. Goldberg, The Racial State (Malden and Oxford: Blackwell Publishing), 263–264. Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948), European Commission, 2000. E.g. Crenshaw, 1989; Collins, 2000; Essed, 2010. Gilroy, 2005, xv–xvi. Efforts which, in the words of W. E. B. Du Bois, “aim to make humanity not the attribute of the arrogant and the exclusive, but the heritage of all men in the world where most men are colored” (quoted in Gilroy, 2005, 38). Cf. D. T. Goldberg, 2002, 263–270.

BIBLIOGRAPHY AAPA. “AAPA Statement on Biological Aspects of Race.” American Journal of Physical Anthropology 101 (1996): 569–570. Ålund, Aleksandra. “Ethnicity, Social Subordination and Cultural Resistance.” Comparative Social Research 22 (2003): 245–261. Ålund, Aleksandra, and Carl-Ulrik Schierup. Paradoxes of Multiculturalism: Essays on Swedish Society. Aldershot, UK: Avebury, 1991. Andersson, Eva, John Östh, and Bo Malmberg. “Ethnic Segregation and Performance Inequality in the Swedish School System: A Regional Perspective.” Environment and Planning 42 (2010): 2674–2686. Andersson, Roger, Lena Magnusson Turner, and Emma Holmquist. Contextualising Ethnic Residential Segregation in Sweden: Welfare, Housing and Migration-Related Policies. Country Report for Sweden, Uppsala: Norface, 2010. Balfour, Lawrie. The Evidence of Things Not Said: James Baldwin and the Promise of American Democracy. Ithaca, NY and London: Cornell University Press, 2001. Bernasconi, Robert. “Who Invented the Concept of Race? Kant’s Role in the Enlightenment Construction of Race.” In Race, edited by Robert Bernasconi, 11–36. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2001. Bonilla-Silva, Eduardo. “The Invisible Weight of Whiteness: The Racial Grammar of Everyday Life in Contemporary America.” Ethnic and Racial Studies 35, no. 2 (2012): 173–194. Caspari, Rachel. “From Types to Populations: A Century of Race, Physical Anthropology, and the American Anthropological Association.” American Anthropologist 105, no. 1 (2003): 65–76. Césaire, Aimé. Discourse on Colonialism. New York and London: Monthly Review Press, 2000. Collins, Patricia Hill. Black Feminst Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness and the Politics of Empowerment. 2nd ed. New York and London: Routledge, 2000.

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

115

Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination. Concluding Observations on the Combined Nineteenth to Twenty-first Periodic Reports of Sweden, Adopted by the Committee at its Eighty-third Session (12–30 August 2013). CERD/C/SWE/CO/19–21. United Nations. Distr.: General, 23 September 2013. Commission of the European Communities. “The Application of Directive 2000/43/EC of 29 June 2000 Implementing the Principle of Equal Treatment Between Persons Irrespective of Racial or Ethnic Origin.” Communication from the Commission to the Council and the European Parliament, Brussels, 2006. Council of the European Union. “The Racial Equality Directive.” Offi cial Journal of the European Communities, 06 29, 2000, L180/22 ed.: 22–26. Donnelly, Jack. Universal Human Rights in Theory and Practice. 2nd ed. Ithaca, NY and London: Cornell University Press, 2003. , and Rhoda E. Howard. “Human Dignity, Human Rights and Political Regimes.” The American Political Science Review 80, no. 3 (1986): 801–817. ECRI Secretariat. ECRI Report on Sweden: Fourth Monitoring Cycle. Strasbourg: Council of Europe, 2012. Eriksson, Stefan. Arbetsutbud och sysselsättning bland personer med utländsk bakgrund. En kunskapsöversikt. Ds 2007:4, Stockholm: Ministry of Finance, 2006. . Utrikesfödda på den svenska arbetsmarknaden. Bilaga 4 till LU2011. Stockholm: Regeringskansliet, 2011. Essed, Philomena. Understanding Everyday Racism: An Interdisciplinary Theory. Newbury Park, CA, London and New Delhi: Sage Publications, 1991. European Agency for Fundamental Rights. EU-MIDIS: European Union Minorities and Discrimination Survey. Main Results Report, Vienna: European Agency for Fundamental Rights, 2009. European Commission. “Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union.” Offi cial Journal of the European Communities, no. C 364 (12 2000): 1–22. . Compendium of Practice on Non-Discrimination/Equality Mainstreaming. Luxembourg: Publications Office of the European Union, 2011. European Convention. “Explanations Relating to the Charter of Fundamental Rights.” Offi cial Journal of the European Union, no. C 303 (2007): 17–35. Eze, Emmanuel Chukwudi. “The Color of Reason: The Idea of ‘Race’ in Kant’s Anthropology.” In Postcolonial African Philosophy: A Critical Reader, edited by E.C. Eze, 103–140. Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1997. , ed. Race and the Enlightenment: A Reader. Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1997. General Assembly of the United Nations. “International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination.” Offi ce of the United Nations High Commissioner of Human Rights. December 21, 1965. Retrieved October 18, 2012 from http://www2.ohchr.org/english/law/cerd.htm. Gilroy, Paul. Postcolonial Melancholia. New York: Columbia University Press, 2005. Glendon, Mary Ann. A World Made New: Eleanor Roosevelt and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. New York: Random House, 2001. Glikman, Anya, and Moshe Semyonov. “Ethnic Origin and Residential Attainment of Immigrants in European Countries.” City & Community 11, no. 2 (2012): 198–219. Goldberg, David Theo. The Racial State. Malden, MA and Oxford, UK: Blackwell, 2002. . The Threat of Race: Refl ections on Racial Neoliberalism. Malden, MA and Oxford, UK: Blackwell, 2009. Government of Finland. The Constitution of Finland. Helsinki: Ministry of Justice, 1999.

116

Michael McEachrane

. Non-Discrimination Act (21/2004). Helsinki: Ministry of Employment and the Economy, 2010. Government of Iceland. “Constitution.” Government Offices of Iceland, 1999. Retrieved October 18, 2012 from http://www.government.is/constitution/. . Constitution of the Republic of Iceland. Reykjavik: Government Ofi ices of Iceland, 1999. Government of Norway. The Anti-Discrimination Act. Oslo: Ministry of Labor, 2006. Government of Sweden. The Constitution of Sweden: The Fundamental Laws and the Riksdag Act. Stockholm: Sveriges Riksdag, 2012. . “Discrimination Act.” Swedish Code of Statutes, Ministry of Labor, 2008. . En sammanhållen diskrimineringslagstiftning. SOU 2006:22, Stockholm: The Ministry of Labor, 2006. . Ett starkare skydd mot diskriminering. Regeringens proposition 2007/08:95. Stockholm: The Department of Integration and Gender Equality, 2007. Habel, Yylva. “Whiteness Swedish Style.” In Afrikansksvenska röster, edited by K. Stephens, 90–119. Malmö: Notis förlag, 2009. Habermas, Jürgen. “The Concept of Human Dignity and the Realistic Utopia of Human Rights.” Metaphilosophy 41, no. 4 (2010): 464–480. . “Equal Treatment of Cultures and the Limits of Postmodern Liberalism.” The Journal of Political Philosophy 13, no. 1 (2005): 1–28. . The Inclusion of the Other: Studies in Political Theory. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1998. . “Intolerance and Discrimination.” International Journal of Constitutional Law 1, no. 1 (2003): 2–12. Hausmann, Ricardo, Laura D. Tyson, and Saadia Zahidi. The Global Gender Gap Report 2012. Geneva: World Economic Forum, 2012. Hesse, Barnor. “Self-Fulfi lling Prophecy: The Postracial Horizon.” The South Atlantic Quarterly 110, no. 1 (2011): 155–178. Hiernaux, Jean. “Biological Aspects of the Racial Question.” In Four Statements on the Race Question, edited by the United Nations Educational Scientific and Cultural Organization, 9–16. Paris: UNESCO, 1969. Hjalmarsson, Johan. Diskriminering på den svenska bostadsmarknaden—En rapport från DO:s särskilda arbete under åren 2006–2008 kring diskriminering på bostadsmarknaden. DO:s rapportserie 2008:3, Stockholm: Diskrimineringsombudsmannen [The Equality Ombudsman of Sweden], 2008. Houtum, Henk van. “Human Blacklisting: The Global Apartheid of the EU’s External Border Regime.” Society and Space: Environment and Planning D 28, no. 6 (2010): 957–976. Hübinette, Tobias. “Post-Racial Utopianism, White Color-Blindness and “The Elephant in the Room”: Racial Issues for Transnational Adoptees of Color.” In Intercountry Adoption: Policies, Practices, and Outcomes, edited by Judith L. Gibbons and Karen Smith Rotabi, 221–229. Farnham, UK: Ashgate, 2012. . “To Be Non-White in a Colour-Blind Society: Conversations with Adoptees.” Journal of Intercultural Studies 30, no. 4 (2009): 335–353. , Helena Hörnfeldt, Fataneh Farahani, and René León Rosales, eds. Om ras och vithet i det samtida Sverige. Tumba, Sweden: Mångkulturellt Centrum, 2012. Huggare, Inger, Karin E. Lundström, and Anna Wilén. Integration—utrikesfödda på arbetsmarknaden. Stockholm: Statistics Sweden (SCB), 2009. Huggare, Inger, Karin E. Lundström, Lotta Persson, and Richard Öhrvall. Integration—en beskrivning av läget i Sverige. Stockholm: Statistics Sweden (SCB), 2008.

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

117

Human Rights & Equality Consultancy. Racism in Europe: ENAR Shadow Report 2010–2011. Vienna: European Network Against Racism (ENAR), 2011. Israel, Jonathan I. Enlightenment Contested: Philosophy, Modernity, and the Emancipation of Man 1670–1752. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2006. Kalonaityté, Viktoria, Victoria Kawesa, and Adiam Tedros. Att färgas av Sverige: Upplevelser av diskriminering och rasism bland ungdomar. Stockholm: Equality Ombudsman, 2008. Kamali, Masoud, ed. Den segregerande integrationen. Om social sammanhållning och dess hinder. SOU 2006:73, Stockholm: Fritzes Offentliga Publikationer, 2006. . Integrationens svarta bok: Agenda för jämlikhet och social sammanhållning. SOU 2006: 79, Stockholm: Fritzes Offentliga Publikationer, 2006. Klausen, Jimmy Casas. “Hannah Arendt’s Antiprimitivism.” Political Theory 38, no. 3 (2010): 394–423. Kleingeld, Pauline. Kant and Cosmopolitanism: The Philosophical Ideal of World Citizenship. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012. Lappalainen, Paul. Det blågula glashuset: Strukturell diskriminering i Sverige. SOU: 56, Stockholm: Statens offentliga utredningar, 2005. Lentin, Alana. “‘Race,’ Racism and Anti-Racism: Challenging Contemporary Classifications.” Social Identities 6, no. 1 (2000): 91–106. . “Replacing ‘Race,’ Historicizing ‘Culture’ in Multiculturalism.” Patterns of Prejudice 39, no. 4 (2005): 379–396. , and Gavan Titley. The Crises of Multiculturalism: Racism in a Neoliberal Age. London and New York: Zed Books, 2011. Longva, Ahn Nga. “The Trouble with Difference: Gender, Ethnicity and Norwegian Social Democracy.” Comparative Social Research 22 (2003): 153–175. Maglo, Koffi N. “The Case against Biological Realism about Race: From Darwin to the Post-Genomic Era.” Perspectives on Science 19, no. 4 (2011): 361–390. Mason, Luke. “The Hollow Legal Shell of European Race Discrimination Policy: The EC Race Directive.” American Behavioral Scientist 53, no. 12 (2010): 1731–1748. McEachrane, Michael, and Louis Faye, eds. Sverige och de Andra: Postkoloniala perspektiv. Stockholm: Natur & Kultur, 2001. Mehta, Uday Singh. Liberalism and Empire: A Study in Nineteenth-Century British Liberal Thought. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1999. Mills, Charles W. Blackness Visible: Essays in Philosophy and Race. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998. . “Kant’s Untermenschen.” In Race and Racism in Modern Philosophy, edited by A. Valls, 169–193. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2005. . The Racial Contract. Ithaca, NY and London: Cornell University Press, 1997. . “White Supremacy as Sociopolitical System: A Philosophical Perspective.” In White Out: The Continuing Signifi cance of Racism, edited by Aashley Doane and Eduardo Bonilla-Silva, 36–48. New York and London: Routledge, 2003. Morsink, Johannes. Inherent Human Rights: Philosophical Roots of the Universal Declaration. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009. . The Universal Declaration of Human Rights: Origins, Drafting, and Intent. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999. Möschel, Mathias. “Race in Mainland European Analysis: Towards a European Critical Race Theory.” Ethnic and Racial Studies 34, no. 10 (2011): 1648–1664.

118

Michael McEachrane

Moyn, Samuel. The Last Utopia: Human Rights in History. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press, 2010. Mutua, Makau. Human Rights: A Political and Cultural Critique. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002. Myrdal, Alva. “Tillägg: Från partikongressen 1969. Alva Myrdals föredragning.” In Jämlikhet. Första rapport från SAP-LO:s arbetsgrupp för jämlikhetsfrågor. Från partikongressen 1969: Alva Myrdals föredragning och Kongressens beslut, edited by Alva Myrdal et al., 163–174. Stockholm: Bokförlaget Prisma, 1969. Nkrumah, Kwame. Neo-Colonialism: The Last Stage of Imperialism. London and Edinburgh: Thomas Nelson and Sons Ltd, 1965. Nordin, Dennis S. A Swedish Dilemma: A Liberal European Nation’s Struggle with Racism and Xenophobia, 1990–2000. Lanham, MD, Boulder, CO, New York: University Press of America, 2005. The Norwegian Storting. “The Constitution: Complete Text.” Stortinget. 2012. Retrieved October 18, 2012 from http://www.stortinget.no/en/In-English/ About-the-Storting/The-Constitution/The-Constitution/. OECD. Settling In: OECD Indicators of Immigrant Integration 2012. OECD Publishing, 2012. Orend, Brian. Human Rights: Concept and Context. Peterborough and Orchard Park, NY: Broadview Press, 2002. Palmberg, Mai. “The Nordic Colonial Mind.” In Complying with Colonialism: Gender, Race and Ethnicity in the Nordic Region, edited by Suvi Keskinen, Diana Mulinari, Sari Irni, and Salla Tuori. Farnham, UK: Ashgate, 2009. Parfit, Derek. On What Matters. Volume 2. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2011. Pateman, Carole. The Sexual Contract. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press, 1988. Pécoud, Antoine, and Paul de Guchteneire. “Introduction: The Migration Without Borders Scenario.” In Migration Without Borders. Essays on the Free Movement of People, edited by Antoine Pécoud and Paul de Guchteneire, 1–30. New York and Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2007. Pred, Allan. Even in Sweden: Racisms, Racialized Spaces and the Popular Geographical Imagination. Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 2000. Reardon, Jenny. “Decoding Race and Human Difference in a Genomic Age.” Differences: A Journal of Feminist Cultural Studies 15, no. 3 (2004): 38–65. . Race to the Finish: Identity and Governance in an Age of Genomics. Princeton University Press, 2004. Roodman, David. “Commitment to Development Index 2012.” Center for Global Development. 2012. Retrieved October 23, 2012 from http://www.cgdev.org/ content/publications/detail/1426572/. Rooth, Dan-Olof, and Jan Ekberg. “Unemployment and Earnings for Second Generation Immigrants in Sweden: Ethnic Background and Parent Composition.” Journal of Population Economics (2003): 787–814. Ruggie, John Gerard. Just Business: Multinational Corporations and Human Rights. New York and London: W.W. Norton & Company Rydgren, Jens. “Mechanisms of Exclusion: Ethnic Discrimination in the Swedish Labor Market.” Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 30, no. 4 (2004): 697–716. Sawyer, Lena. “Routings: ‘Race,’ African Diasporas, and Swedish Belonging.” Transforming Anthropology 11, no. 1 (2002): 13–35. Schierup, Carl-Ulrik. “Den sociala exkluderingen i Sverige: Migration, arbetsmarknad och välfärdsstat i förändring.” In Arbetslivets (o)synliga murar. Rapport av Utredningen om makt, integration och strukturell diskriminering. SOU

There’s a White Elephant in the Room

119

2006:59, edited by Paulina de los Reyes, 35–99. Stockholm: Edita Sverige AB, 2006. , Peo Hansen, and Stephen Castles. Migration, Citizenship and the European Welfare State: A European Dilemma. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2006. Semyonov, Moshe, and Anya Glikman. “Ethnic Residential Segregation, Social Contacts and Anti-Minority Attitudes in European Societies.” European Sociological Review 25, no. 6 (2009): 693–708. Shiao, Jiannbin Lee, Thomas Bode, Amber Beyer, and Daniel Selvig. “The Genomic Challenge to the Social Construction of Race.” Sociological Theory 30, no. 2 (2012): 67–88. Shultziner, Doron. “Human Dignity: Functions and Meanings.” In Perspectives on Human Dignity: A Conversation, edited by Jeff Malpas and Norelle Lickiss, 73–92. Berlin: Springer, 2007. Socialstyrelsen. Social rapport 2010. Västerås: Socialstyrelsen, 2010. The Swedish Riksdag. The Instrument of Government. 1974. Retrieved September 12, 2012 from http://www.riksdagen.se/en/How-the-Riksdag-works/ Democracy/The-Constitution/The-Instrument-of-Government/. Towns, Ann. “Paradoxes of (In)Equality: Something is Rotten in the Gender Equal State of Sweden.” Cooperation and Conflict 37, no. 2 (2002): 157–179. Truth, Sojourner. “Ain’t I a Woman?” Internet Modern History Source Book. New York: Fordham University, 1851. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization. Four Statements on the Race Question. COM.69/11.27/A, Paris: UNESCO, 1969. United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. Statistical Yearbook 2009: Trends in Displacement, Protection and Solutions. Geneva: UNHCR, 2010. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights. 1948. Retrieved October 8, 2012 from http://www.un.org/en/documents/udhr/. Wollstonecraft, Mary. “A Vindication of the Rights of Woman.” In The Philosophy of Human Rights, edited by Patrick Hayden, 101–117. St. Paul, MN: Paragon House, 2001. von der Pfordten, Dietmar. “On the Dignity of Man in Kant.” Philosophy 2009: 371–391. Zick, Andreas, Beate Küpper, and Andreas Hövermann. Intolerance, Prejudice and Discrimination: A European Report. Berlin: Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, 2011.

5

Racism Is No Joke A Swedish Minister and a Hottentot Venus Cake—An Email Conversation Beth Maina Ahlberg, Claudette Carr, Madubuko Diakité, Fatima El-Tayeb, Tobias Hübinette, Momodou Jallow, Victoria Kawesa, Michael McEachrane, Utz McKnight, Anders Neergaard, Shailja Patel, Kitimbwa Sabuni and Minna Salami

Sunday April 15, 2012. The Modern Museum of Art in Stockholm is celebrating World Art Day and the 75th birthday of The Swedish Artists’ National Organization. The Swedish Minister of Culture, Lena Adelsohn Liljeroth, has been invited to inaugurate the day. The theme is the freedom of expression. The Minister is asked to cut the first piece of a cake designed for the occasion by the Swedish artist Makode Linde. It depicts a naked black woman on her back with no legs, a protruding stomach, breasts slightly covered by two string-like arms and a long slender neck covered by golden rings. Attached to the cake is the artist’s own head, his face painted in black with a huge grin of red lips, sparse white teeth and bulging white eyes. As Adelsohn Liljeroth cuts into the cake the head screams. The Minister laughs and the audience laughs too and applauds. She proceeds to feed the head with what is supposed to be a piece of the woman’s vagina, which is followed by more applause and laughter. The event was soon a world sensation. Uploaded images show Adelsohn Liljeroth smiling and laughing while cutting the cake and feeding it to the head in front of an audience of excited white spectators. A widely circulated YouTube video shows amused white people snapping pictures of what looks like a mutilated black torso and taking turns cutting into the cake, each time the head cries out and more of the body’s red spongy interior is being exposed while in the background one can hear the murmur of a mingling crowd. The day after on April 16, the National Association of Afro-Swedes called the event a racist spectacle and asked for Adelsohn Liljeroth’s resignation. In the ensuing national debate the Minister, the artist, the Modern Museum of Art, the Swedish Artists’ National Organization and a nearly unanimous Swedish press defended the event as an anti-racist manifestation.

Racism Is No Joke

121

DISSENTING VOICES Michael McEachrane: To give readers a background to our discussion, let me fi rst begin by recapturing the roles some of us played in the debate following the installation. Kitimbwa—as spokesperson for the National Association of Afro-Swedes—you were frequently engaged in debates about the event on national television, writing articles and being interviewed by national and international press. We’ll have reason to return to some of these exchanges. For now, let me briefly mention the debate you had with the Minister and the artist in Sweden’s largest evening paper, Aftonbladet. On Tuesday April 17, 2012, two days after the event, Aftonbladet published an article by you asking for Adelsohn Liljeroth to resign. In it you among other things argue that Adelsohn Liljeroth through her actions at the museum clearly demonstrated that she didn’t deem it inappropriate for a Minister to engage in a racist manifestation; that the installation was supposed to problematize serious issues of female circumcision and exoticism but that the “cake party” turned them into a laughing matter; and that it is hard to see how victims of female circumcision and black people are benefited from such degradation. To this the Minister and the artist Makode Linde replied with an article each. On April 23, Aftonbladet published a fi nal reply signed by you, myself, Madubuko, Momodou, Victoria, Utz, Minna and Abdalla Gasimelseed. In it we among other things state that although there is some political readiness in today’s Sweden against sexism, there’s no similar stand against racism or sexist expressions of racism; that contrary to Adelsohn Liljeroth’s insistence, cutting the genitals of a racist depiction of a black woman and feeding it to her in front of an audience of laughing white people isn’t anti-racist; that Adelsohn Liljeroth has expended her trust as a Minister in a democracy that claims to respect the equal dignity of human beings and should resign. Momodou, you also played a major role, writing about the event for The Guardian in the UK, speaking about it on Al Jazeera English, and as a board member of the European Network Against Racism (ENAR), encouraged its chair, Chibo Onyeji, to write an open letter asking the Swedish Prime Minister, Fredrik Reinfeldt, to publicly condemn Adelsohn Liljeroth’s involvement in the installation. In the article in The Guardian on April 18 you wrote that Adelsohn Liljeroth’s attempt to justify her participation by asserting that art is meant to be provocative and that the pictures of the event had been misunderstood, revealed a careless attitude towards her participation in the event as a government representative, reflected a generally lax attitude in Sweden toward anti-black racism and demonstrated a structure that ignores racial incidents and ultimately normalizes them. In the open letter to the Prime Minister of Sweden, Chibo Onyeji mentioned ENAR’s 2010–11 Shadow Report on racism in Sweden highlighting an increase in Afrophobia—including harassment and hate crimes committed against people of African descent. You, Victoria, were the author of

122 Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al. that report. On April 20 you had an article in the The Local questioning the Minister’s defense of her participation in the event by asserting arts’ right to provoke. We need to ask ourselves, the article reads, “what relations of power this ‘provocation’ builds on, if those left with the feeling of exploitation and exposure—and thus also those most offended by the performance—are also those this creation of art claims to liberate: namely black women.” Images like those of the installation, you go on—which reminds one of Sarah Baartman paraded around 19th century Europe as “the Hottentot Venus”—tacitly condone the objectification of the black female body by others, thus maintaining black women’s servitude in the eyes of those who view her. Then there were those of you adding your voices to the debate from abroad. Minna, in an April 18 entry on your blog MsAfropolitan.com, you decried that no one at the event seemed to have objected to eating an “African mutilated vagina cake” and wrote that, I moved from Sweden after living there for about a decade, and events like this make it tempting to start listing all the bad things and reasons why I left. I won’t just now. But I will say that the hidden racism in that country, like in many others, is epidemic and the sooner we start talking about this uncomfortable truth the better. On April 22 you also published “The Venus Hottentot Cake: An Open Letter from African Women to the Minister of Culture,” which you, Claudette, had co-authored (together with Barbara Mhangami and Samantha Asumadu). Claudette, in the letter you condemn the event as defi nitely not being empowering or transformative to women who are victims of FGM, that the fact of Makode Linde’s blackness doesn’t legitimize it, described it as “a dehumanising racialised public spectacle of African women” and called for a sincere apology from the Minister. On April 19, Pambazuka News published an article where you, Shailja, called the event “a pornography of violence” and stated that, “What makes this cake episode so deeply offensive is the appropriation, by both Linde and his audience, of African women’s bodies and experiences, while completely excluding real African women from the discourse.” There were also some activist manifestations against the event that a few of us participated in. On April 23, after the Minister of Culture had spoken at a World Book Day event in Stockholm, Kitimbwa and a group from the National Association of Afro-Swedes stepped up and chanted, “Resign, Liljeroth, resign.” On May 4 at a conference on economic growth in Malmö, where the Minister was scheduled to speak, Momodou, myself and another friend showed up at the conference and began chanting, “Racism is no joke” and holding up placards proclaiming, “Black people are also worth respect,” “Racism is no joke,” “Why are the politicians silent?” and “The Minister should resign.” And in London,

Racism Is No Joke

123

on May 1, roughly two weeks after World Art Day, Minna took part in a demonstration outside of the Swedish embassy to protest abusive racial characterizations of black women and to call for a respect for Africans as human beings with dignity.

REPRESENTING THE STATE Michael McEachrane: It’s now soon two months since the event took place at the Modern Museum of Art. As symbolic as it was, some of us saw the event and its aftermath—including Linde’s art, the behavior of the Minister and the audience as well as the public debate that followed—as indicative of deeper-lying racial issues in Swedish society. To me, the way in which at least some of us voiced concerns about racism—and did so in a national as well as international arena—may very well turn out to be a defi ning moment in making room for black people as black in Swedish politics. One of the interesting (some might say bewildering or vexing) aspects of the event is the way in which it has been consistently framed in progressive liberal terms by the Swedish Artists’ National Organization, the Modern Museum of Art and the Minister herself. Before Adelsohn Liljeroth cut the cake, she gave a speech next to it declaring that the “role of the artist is generally said to be to challenge us and even sometimes to offend us” and that defending “artistic expression, which is one of our most basic freedoms, remains among the government’s highest priorities.” The speech ends with an exalted cosmopolitanism: To conclude, and as we are celebrating World Art Day, I would like to emphasize that it is natural for today’s society to be global, without borders—and that this is clearly apparent in cultural life as well. Having said that, both Sweden’s place in the world and the place of the world in Sweden can of course be strengthened. A strong and vigorous cultural life with a clear international dimension is an important part of this. I would like to see more diversity and more freedom of choice. I would like to see a cultural life that does not exclude anyone—in its offerings, its activities or its audience. Cultural life must have room for many voices and many faces, there must be ample headroom and tolerance, otherwise culture will stagnate—and so then will society. Juxtapose such a seemingly high-minded moral and political declaration of “a cultural life that does not exclude anyone” but makes “room for many voices and many faces” with the manner in which Adelsohn Liljeroth a moment later engaged in a piece of art that arguably displayed some of the most demeaning representations imaginable of black people—African women in particular. Or how the Minister later, as she did the following

124 Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al. week in her exchange with Kitimbwa in Aftonbladet, off-handedly dismissed criticisms of her behavior as racially problematic. In the fi rst article on April 17, Kitimbwa iterates Adelsohn Liljeroth’s pronouncement that the event had been “misinterpreted and hence [she] lets us know that all of us who have been upset by her behavior don’t understand what it’s about. That instead it’s she who possesses the understanding and sound judgment.” He also points out how, “Sweden as a country has written itself out of the past and present marked by racism, which the rest of the world operates within. Racist expressions are therefore not considered troublesome in Sweden as here racism is not considered a problem.” In what was later published on the government website as the Minister’s official statement about the event, Adelsohn Liljeroth responds the day after in Aftonbladet that her behavior merely was a manifestation of the freedom of expression, of allowing room for art to provoke and pose uncomfortable questions, that the actual intent of the installation was to challenge racism through provocation, that she is sincerely sorry if anyone misinterpreted her participation and that she welcomes “talks with the African Swedish National Association on how we can counter intolerance, racism and discrimination.” Note how Adelsohn Liljeroth’s response—by making the contrary claim to Kitimbwa that her participation in the event was an anti-racist manifestation and that not seeing it as such is an unfortunate misinterpretation— exemplifies what Kitimbwa wrote about the denial of racism in Sweden and being the only one who possesses understanding and sound judgment. She even possesses the generosity to invite “the African Swedish National Association” (the English translation on the government website of the National Association of Afro-Swedes) to a dialogue about how “we” can counter intolerance, racism and discrimination in some unspecified locale. Comments? Victoria Kawesa: When I fi rst saw this deformed representation of a black female body, I thought, oh no, what now? I was horrified, and became all the more repelled when I realized that the artist was performing the head and voice of the monstrosity painted in a minstrel black face. When, on top of that, Adelsohn Liljeroth was caught on camera cutting off the vagina of the cake and feeding it to the artist, I couldn’t believe it! It was as if all of a sudden the Emperor was naked for everyone to see. I might be wrong, but I think that this event was the fi rst major public incident in Sweden that exposed racism on such a high political level. The situation quickly became a monumental opportunity to address issues of race in Sweden in general, more specifically the representations of black people and especially black women. It also became an opportunity to address the extent to which such issues are denied. The frivolity of the Minister and the audience of mostly white women toward the representation before them especially demonstrated a disassociation from

Racism Is No Joke

125

black women as women and this in a country which sees itself as a beacon of gender equality. Claudette Carr: When I fi rst opened a Facebook post with the video that went viral, seeing that impersonation of a disembodied African woman groaning at her own dismemberment to the titillating consumption of white people, it was the most perverse form of minstrelsy I’ve ever been subjected to. And when I found out that female genital mutilation (FGM) was a theme of the installation, well, what can I say, as someone who has spent a great deal of time engaging in this issue, it was a travesty. For me personally, and I know many African women who felt the same way, it was that horrendous groaning on top of the figurative representation that not only defi led black African women everywhere, but equally too made a mockery of it. The carefree and mocking re-enactment of the genital mutilation of a disembodied African woman as public spectacle in the form of a cake to be leisurely consumed is symbolic of the position of African women in our societies and the specific forms of racism, sexualisation/sexism and misogyny that have become normative in the media, the entertainment industry, the development sector (with its voyeurism of African women and girls) and society generally. I realized that African women needed to assert themselves against this insult masquerading as an anti-racist provocation. A fitting take on the cake incident, that galvanized us to compose the Open letter and petition, came from the world-renowned Kenyan writer Binyavanga Wainaina: That “art” like so many others, was not for “awareness” or “shock appeal”—it was for the entertainment and enjoyment of the bullet proof liberals who rule the planet, and who consume the pain of others as a product they like to call “charity” or “giving back.” The most important thing to know is that the makers, the buyers, the ministers are all utterly bullet proof. They believe that nothing you or I can do can move or hurt them. The only platform for communication, recognition or engagement is inside the world of pity, and leftovers. This is the true power of the world today, the thing to be feared, for when it decides to destroy you, with contracts and policies, and AID—it will make it seem as if it is doing you a favor—and if you are a fool, you will believe it. Anders Neergaard: When I fi rst learnt about the event at the Museum, my problem was with the Minister and not the artist. Although that later changed so that I now think that both the Minister’s actions and the installation as such are problematic, I still prefer to distinguish between, on the one hand, Linde’s art and his supposedly anti-racist intentions behind it, and, on the other, the appropriation of his art by the Swedish Artists’ National Organization (who apparently were responsible for organizing the event),

126

Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al.

the Minister of Culture, the audience at the Museum, Swedish media and other facets of the public. Without assuming that this is a watertight distinction I still think we need to keep these things separate—not least as Linde and other defenders of his installation (such as Adelsohn Liljeroth) have claimed that the outrage against it is due to a misunderstanding since it was supposed to show precisely the kind of racism that it is being accused of and that it needs to be understood in the context of his other art which also makes use of blackface and has a similar agenda. That said, let me say a couple of things about how I judge the Minister’s behavior. As some of you pointed out in the fi nal reply to the Minister and the artist in the debate in Aftonbladet, it’s hard to see that cutting the vagina off a racist caricature of a black woman and laughingly proceed to feed it to her in front of a laughing white audience is an anti-racist act. It’s hard to see this even if Adelsohn Liljeroth’s actions were meant as a mindful playing along with the racism of the installation—which, trust me, I doubt that she meant, among other things judging from her response (or lack thereof) to the subsequent outrage. The fact of the matter is that there was nothing in her interaction with the installation that absolved her from not becoming a part of the racism it represented. Sorry for repeating the obvious, but, to the contrary, the manner in which she cut a piece of the vagina, fed it to the woman/artist and treated the whole act as a collective laughing matter, greatly magnified the racism that the cake depicted. Add to that, that she acted in this way as a Minister in a democracy, representing the state and its people. Through her action and the subsequent silent condoning of it by the government—the Minister, I would argue, became representative of a racist state. Of course, to describe the state of Sweden as racist will strike many as an oxymoron. Not least inside a country where there’s a widespread conflation of racism with racially motivated acts of violence or racism with racist ideologies such as Nazism and Apartheid—thereby absolving the Minister and every other participant at the event of any racial transgressions.

WHOSE FREEDOM? Tobias Hübinette: Being someone who has followed and documented representations of non-white minorities in Sweden for years, I was quite shocked, especially as the vast majority in the debate—maybe about 90% of the voices that were raised about the event—supported the installation as an anti-racist act. Even public intellectuals who one might expect would be more critical, such as radical Leftists, feminists, LGBTQ activists, postcolonial scholars, mixed-race black Swedes and other non-white Swedes, have largely endorsed the event and especially Linde as an anti-racist. This in itself says something about the country’s climate.

Racism Is No Joke

127

To follow up on what Michael said about the free speech theme, we should also keep in mind that the event itself was a response to a growing feeling of threat to the freedom of expression coming from ethnic and religious minorities. In the program for the event, one can read that: (—) We often like to think that it is a dictator who pulls the threads, but just as often it’s a matter of threats coming from various groups of a religious, ethnic or political nature. (—) Are you supposed to take off your shoes for security checks at every show you visit? Is the solution police surveillance and detectors each time sensitive issues are portrayed? Against this gloomy future, artists of all times have been at the vanguard of a more permissive society. The way in which minorities are presented here as a threat to an open, liberal society shouldn’t be lost on us. It’s indeed ironic that Linde’s cake, and the Minister’s cutting of it, was supposed to represent the freedom of expression of an open society in relation to a perceived censorship threat coming from minorities. It was a manifestation for the freedom of speech against the perceived illiberalism of (some) minorities. It was at the same time a manifestation that ended up making many minority Swedes feel deeply assaulted. And just as the freedom of expression needs to be respected, so does the freedom from being violated. However, in the way that the event at the Museum was framed and later defended, only the former but not the latter freedom was seen as having any bearing in Sweden. Such a valuation of freedom is what you find among the mainly white, mainly highly educated, mainly middle class, mainly progressive liberal circles that dominate politics, the media, the academia and the cultural sphere in Sweden. The average mainstream Swede sees her- or himself as an unconditionally good and progressive liberal anti-racist. The Minister herself, of whom criticism of racial wrong-doing has run off her like water off a goose’s back, is an example of this. Accordingly, anti-racist critique of white Swedes and of mainstream Swedish society raised by Swedes of color is reflexively dismissed as sheer nonsense, unreasonable, over-sensitive, reverse racism, divisive (or otherwise destructive) identity politics, and as a threat to personal freedom and/or an expression of political extremism. As I see it, the pressure brought on by the event at the museum, the debate about the event that some of us since have been engaged in, the conversation we’re having now, and other recent debates in Sweden about race and whiteness, mark the beginning of the end of this specific form of militantly self-righteous Left-Liberal progressive Swedish anti-racism. Fatima El-Tayeb: When I initially heard about the cake event, it seemed to fit right into a pattern of European minstrelsy and failed black attempts to scandalize them. A couple of examples from the recent past (from the countries I am most familiar with, there are undoubtedly many more): in winter 2011, a

128

Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al.

group of black Dutch activists were violently arrested for peacefully protesting the annual “Zwarte Piet” spectacle. There are no Dutch Christmas celebrations without “Black Piet,” Santa’s African sidekick. So each December, white Dutch, from pre-school children to the friendly cashier in your neighborhood organic grocery store, indulge in wearing blackface. In addition the country is adorned with Zwarte Piet images and dolls. The Dutch seem quite similar to the Swedes in their unshaken, and maybe unshakable, belief that they are inherently anti-racist—supported by an international reputation of being easygoing, drug and gay friendly beacons of tolerance. Hence when black Dutch (and other Dutch minorities) call out this xmas tradition as racist they are initially met with incomprehension—“But . . . we’re Dutch.” Often, though, this quickly turns into aggression (perceived, of course, by the white Dutch themselves as mere self-defense against aggressive and unreasonable black people) as evidenced in the arrest of black activists disturbing the festive mood by wearing “Zwarte Piet is racism” t-shirts. Soon after that, in January 2012, I went home to Germany. Just after arriving, I noticed posters announcing a German version of “I’m Not Rappaport”—a U.S. play featuring a white and a black man as the central characters. The posters, which were all over Berlin, showed a well-known white German comedian and another white actor in blackface. Somewhat predictably, when I checked with white friends, they couldn’t remember having seen the posters. A couple of days later, a group of black activists fi lled me in on the backstory: the theater company had apparently assumed that using a white actor in blackface for a black part was a logical and uncontroversial choice. When confronted by black community activists, they went through the usual responses—there are no black actors, blackface is only racist in the U.S., not in Europe, it’s all about artistic freedom and politicizing artistic choices is censorship, black people are the real racists . . . So, when I saw the Swedish images, read about the event and the subsequent attempt to scandalize them, this all seemed to fall into a pattern reflecting persistent European features. Namely, a white inability to imagine a black subjectivity, not to mention any need to engage with it; the insistence that it is white people who defi ne what racism is and isn’t; and an unmitigated feeling of ownership of Europe that leaves people of color as eternal newcomers. The Swedish event was different from the preceding events, however, in the central involvement of a black artist (and I am not interested here in the convenient and predictable hiding behind this fact by progressive and liberal white Swedes) and in highlighting the role of gender. That is, a black man and white feminists were speaking for oppressed black women (since, obviously, the subaltern cake cannot speak for herself). The overall tenor of the event—our freedom of art allows us to address human rights violations in faraway, brown parts of the world—falls into a paradigm of Western/white superiority that progressives fail to challenge. Additionally,

Racism Is No Joke

129

the FGM theme of the piece allowed the artist to use his blackness as an authenticating factor, while appropriating and claiming to embody a pain fundamentally not his own. As has already been hinted at, what is sorely missing is an intersectional analysis. Not only of the normalized all-pervasive racism in Europe, but also of the code of silence that goes along with it—not so much in the sense of an agreement not to talk about this racism, but in the sense of a structure that prevents the emergence of a language that would even allow us to enter a meaningful dialogue with white Europeans. Without wanting to excuse the compliance of some black Europeans, I do remember that I never felt as incapable of making myself understood as when talking in my native language to my fellow Germans. This is a very exhausting and disempowering experience—I’m not telling you anything new here—burning out one generation of activists after another. And I wonder if we have come any closer to inserting ourselves as subjects into European discursive structures.

EMPOWERING AFRICAN WOMEN Michael McEachrane: Besides being an amalgam of racist images of black women, Western fantasies of African tribalism and black face or golliwog caricatures—another theme of the installation was female circumcision. On April 15 Makode Linde posted on his Facebook page: Documentation from my female genital mutilation cake performance earlier today at stockholm moma. This is after getting my vagaga mutilated by the minister of culture, Lena Adelsohn Liljeroth. Before cutting me up she whispered “Your life will be better after this” in my ear. Three days later, on April 18, Linde had the following to say on Al Jazeera English in response to the question why he chose the subject of female circumcision: There are many different entries to this piece. And because of the medium, which was cake, the mutilation input of the piece was quite natural since you would have to cut it up. [ . . . ] And since I’m dealing with prejudices or ideas about black identity and the theme of the birthday celebration was censorship and freedom of speech, I think this piece was very appropriate because a lot of prejudice that concerns black identity is that female circumcision is something that [exists] because of [the] oppression [of] women and [that] this oppression only takes place in black Africa and so on . . . Although it’s not clear what he says after that, he seems to be saying that oppression can take many forms and that singling out female circumcision

130 Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al. as something inherently African, wrongly singles out and stigmatizes one form of oppression in the world among others. Even if it is misplaced to say the least to think that the glib irony of getting his “vagaga mutilated by the minister of culture” would challenge such a stigma of FGM as African—not to mention help its victims—Linde’s rationale points to a problem in how the West all too often treats female circumcision. As the Kenyan human rights scholar Makau Mutua writes in his book, Human Rights: A Political & Cultural Critique: Human rights opposition and campaigns against FGM, which have relied heavily on demonization, have picked up where European colonial missionaries left off. Savagery in this circumstance acquires a race—the black, dark, or non-Western race. [ . . . ] In trying to reach their own public, the new crusaders have fallen back on sensationalism, and have become insensitive to the dignity of the very women they want to “save.” [ . . . ] [These Western crusaders] are totally unconscious of the latent racism which such a campaign evokes in countries where ethnocentric prejudice is so deep-rooted. And in their conviction that this is a “just cause,” they have forgotten that these women from a different race and a different culture are also human beings, and that solidarity can only exist alongside self-affirmation and mutual respect. No doubt the FGM theme adds an extra dimension to the installation and, as Victoria has pointed out, the Minister’s cavalier attitude toward the representation of the African woman before her in contrast to Sweden’s highly esteemed ideals of gender equality. Any thoughts? Beth Maina Ahlberg: The personal hurt and humiliation of the racist cake I will not go into. However, its supposed FGM theme brought back memories from an international conference in Copenhagen in 1980 marking half of what was called the United Nation’s Decade for Women 1976–1985. As usual Western women had pushed FGM onto the agenda so as to appear to be in solidarity with women who suffer from harmful cultural practices. When FGM came up for discussion the African women walked out. Not because they weren’t concerned with FGM. But as they explained, their number one concern was the continent’s lack of economic development. Especially in those days it was standard for white feminists to speak on our behalf as African women, to be for our liberation, to be sure what our needs were—without consulting us or even showing any interest in listening to us. As to Linde, by extension the Minister and indeed the merry crowd at the museum that day—if it wasn’t for racism, could they assume a right to represent, think and act on the behalf of African women? Except to create sensation and be in the limelight, what awareness did Linde think he could raise on FGM that would be different from that of countless Christian

Racism Is No Joke

131

missionaries and now hoards of development agents? Except for the outrage against the event and the kind of critical reflection that we’re engaging in here, how did the installation serve to break the spell of reducing African women to exotic objects to be consumed indifferently or victims to be saved from their own kind by chest thumping white liberals? Claudette Carr: In conjunction to what Beth just wrote, beyond the facade of consciousness-raising art, Makode Linde’s re-enactment of the genital mutilation of a disembodied African woman as public spectacle plays right into what has been rightly termed the “white Savior complex” and its “empowerment” of African women. Paradoxically, some of the nefarious activities carried out in the name of “empowering” and “giving voice” to African women dis-empowers, silences and negates the agency of African women. It is first when we begin to unpack the discourses behind the missionary zeal that is aimed at “empowering” and “giving voice” to disenfranchised Africans— say, as represented by the work of all too many development agencies on the continent and the KONY 2012 campaign—that we begin to see them as the broken cisterns they are: crude racializing projections and acts of false generosity in the face of perceived white Western superiority/black African inferiority, the continued economic exploitation of Africa and an unparalleled human suffering that remains both anonymous and normalized. It is the kind of humanitarianism (or anti-racism, in the case of Linde) that seeks to serve the humanity of Africans as it diminishes and even attacks it. The cake indeed became symbolic of the subjugated position of African women, but merely through an iniquitous act of desecrating the black female body and making a most macabre mockery out of FGM. Any potentially redeeming intentions behind Linde’s installation was cancelled out by the insult, the mockery, the absence of any black female subjectivity, the absence (contrary to the official mainstream rhetoric—which alone should raise flags) of any true provocation of racist power relations or any other liberatory framework that could serve to empower African women. Instead, the entire event merely served to reassert the humiliation of racist and sexist subjugation and the rampant ways in which black women are made invisible, demeaned, over-sexualized and rendered disposable. I was not surprised, then, to see a photograph shortly after the cake event of Makode Linde donning a baseball cap with “nigger” emblazoned across the front as if to give a nod to the vernacular space his art occupies. Shailja Patel: There are several aspects to how the subjectivity and dignity of African women was defiled by the event only to be further dishonored by a lack of outrage. The Minister’s and the other women’s cavalier attitude at the event was only bolstered by the subsequent lack of response to it from white feminists, Africanists, etc. It makes me think about the labor of outrage. Who is called upon to perform it and why? Who does it let off the hook? And who, if any, are rewarded?

132

Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al.

Since being a guest writer in 2009 at the Nordic Africa Institute in Uppsala, Sweden, I have access to a network of Swedish and Nordic colleagues— activists, scholars, editors, NGO professionals—involved with Africa. On April 17th I emailed 15 of them, asking them to respond to the outrage. The following email, from a white Swedish director of an NGO that works on the African continent, is representative of the replies I received: I’m completely shocked, Shailja! Almost paralysed and not able to come up with a proper idea immediately. Need to think about this.—How disgusting and disappointing!!! and then: I am off to Turkey until Sunday [to the International Forum on Women’s Rights in Development, AWID] and won’t be able to follow this up immediately. But there is definitely a need to mobilise! My reply: Dear [ . . . ], With all respect, this demands an immediate response. The burden of challenging this taxpayer-funded obscene public enactment of the dismemberment and consumption of a black woman’s body, by a Minister of the Swedish government, should not fall to already-overburdened African feminists. We look to our Swedish comrades to demonstrate their solidarity by taking the lead. The work of holding Linde and the Minister accountable should not fall to African women. For this reason, I also fi nd Binyavanga’s “bullet-proof” response disingenuous—even if I’m in full agreement with what it says about the apparent immunity of white liberals/neo-liberals. Black African male artists and intellectuals who command the public space and institutional clout that Binyavanga does are perfectly positioned to call Linde and the Minister out and challenge them publicly on their misogyny. This would also fragment the “single story”—to speak with the Nigerian novelist Chimamanda Adichie—that Linde’s white supporters and enablers have created around him. Minna Salami: As has already been pointed out by several of you, racism is such that it denies Africans any subjectivity worth taking seriously or any authority to speak even for ourselves. I thought of this on May 1, 2012, roughly two weeks after World Art Day. A group of us, largely members of Black Feminists UK, had gathered outside the Swedish embassy in London to protest the abuse of black women’s integrity.

Racism Is No Joke

133

Halfway into our demonstration, as a colleague was reciting a speech, an elderly woman emerged. The woman lived in one of the buildings nearby in an inner-city neighborhood belonging to the upper socio-economic strata of British society. She spoke with a distinct received pronunciation (what some would call a “Queen’s English”) and was most-likely a highly educated white upper-class Brit. As she had come out to throw her rubbish in the community bins and spotted us across the street, she approached us, clearly upset, her arms waving in the air, rubbish bag swinging from side to side. “You are making too much noise,” she yelled. “You have no right to be here. This is a residential area. You are making too much noise.” Some of us—those with more patience than others—tried to explain to her calmly that we in fact had every right to be there as we were there to protest peacefully. This was presumably obvious considering the banners and placards that surrounded us. “No! You must leave, you must be quiet,” she continued to command, choosing not to listen to what was being said to her. At this point our speaker paused in her speech. The woman’s voice was now noisier than any level of speech that had been delivered prior to her arrival on the scene. Urged to continue speaking by a number of protesters who were now agitatedly demanding that the woman either leave or keep quiet, our speaker resumed talking and the woman eventually gave up and walked away. It struck me then, as it has many times before, though I have not always been able to articulate it, that what is threatening to such a representation of whiteness is not the black person, but the black person’s voice. The Hottentot Venus cake cries and screams, because if it were to speak Adelsohn Liljeroth and her guests at the museum would not be able to laugh as they unapologetically did. If the cake were to speak what would she say? What would be revealed about her spectators? About her artistic creator? Who would be called out on the wrongdoing towards the African woman, the exploitation of her trauma? The artist, the people eating the cake and witnessing it being eaten, the millions upon millions of people preceding them? The fear of having to face this particular element of white culture, a facet which is savage, primitive and violent, is brought too close to comfort whenever the black person has a black voice and uses it. The black person may enter such white spaces as long as s/he doesn’t have a vocal black voice. A token black like Makode Linde may enter because in fact he provides a respite for such fears. He balms the anxiety with the false and naive optimism that memory begins and ends in his shallow caricature of black hurt. In these spaces the African may dance or sprint or sing or commit crimes or groan but they, and especially she, must not speak.

134

Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al.

I’m transported back to Michael’s suggestion, and possible outlook, of this turning out to be a defi ning moment in making room for black people as black in Swedish politics. For I believe that it is only such a black person, the one who speaks and who speaks as black, the one who Audre Lorde might have said has transformed silence into language and action, who can ultimately change those images that create the myths of our times, not only by providing alternative images of black woman- and manhood but also by forcing the white subject to examine, and most significantly, confront itself.

AFROMANTICS Michael McEachrane: We’ve already said a great deal about why the installation and the whole event at the museum failed as a supposedly anti-racist manifestation. But before we move on let us circle back one last time to the argument that Linde’s art is meant to uncover the racism it is being accused of. This is something Linde himself repeatedly has said and that one needs to understand his installation in the context of his other “Afromantics” art. Linde started off his Afromantics series in 2004 by painting black and putting grinning black faces on figurines of Western high- and pop-cultural icons such as Jesus, Joseph, Artemis, Mickey Mouse, Superman and Betty Boop. Linde sees this as part of an anti-racist project of illustrating the racist gaze. As he explains in an interview from April 19 on the Culture News on the Swedish Public Television (SVT): By doing so, I take away their original identity and give them a new identity that is pasted on their old one. And then when I show them I put them [ . . . ] in a group and when you see hundreds of them together it becomes pretty hard to see their individual characteristics. Instead, you merely see a sea of black figures with these red lips and white eyes. I think it’s a quite fitting metaphor of a racist gaze that you cannot see their . . . that one has taken away their individuality. It is clear that if you see a figure like this somewhere, it becomes a little dubious. You perhaps become a little unsure of what it is you see. But in this limbo when you’re not really sure what it is you see or how to interpret it, then the brain starts to work, then you have to think a little for yourself. In the same interview he claims to want to stir debate with his art and make people think about subtle forms of everyday racism: “I want people to talk about racism. I also want people to think. Visible racism is so easy to identify if you see Nazis or whatever it might be. But as I experienced racism in my everyday life [ . . . ] it is on a much more subtle, invisible level.” And on his persistent use of humor he says:

Racism Is No Joke

135

All of these issues of racism and oppression . . . They’re pretty heavy subjects and they’re not so fun to talk about. As well as genocide and slavery and all that. So if you then can lighten things up a little [ . . . ] by making fun of various notions, as one would to ridicule them by carrying them too far, then you can also show how bizarre and crazy these notions are. Linde uses the same method throughout his Afromantics series of, as he would have it, uncovering and illustrating the racist gaze and doing so with humor—be it in his black face figurines, portraits of the Swedish Royal family in black face, Rorschach tests with black faced ink blots, an anthropological race-type picture of a black person with a Nike logo double-exposed onto it, a safety card for a slave ship or a floor mop made of black dreadlocks. As much as Linde’s method is focused on confronting white people with their own racism he denies that the Minister or any other participant of the event at the museum was being racist. As he wrote in Aftonbladet on April 19 in response to Kitimbwa’s article asking the Minister to resign: I’m not a racist, the Minister of Culture is not a racist and neither are the ladies who applaud in the picture [a picture of the event showing a laughing Adelsohn Liljeroth feed him with the genital area of the cake in front of a laughing white audience]. But the world we live in is. It is fi rst when the hidden racism is made visible that it can be crushed. This is what my art is supposed to highlight. On that premise, I’m not afraid to claim that I succeeded pretty well with my cake. Comments? Victoria Kawesa: The above quote by Linde really says all you need to know about the efficiency of his art as anti-racist. Whose hidden racism was his installation supposed to make visible if not the Minister’s or anyone else’s at the museum that day? One might want to let Linde off the hook here by saying that the artist isn’t necessarily best equipped to judge the anti-racism of his work and that the installation in fact did expose the racism of the participants—just as his other black face art manages to reflect racism back to the spectator. But even so, as several of us have pointed out, Linde’s installation—and I think this goes for his other Afromantics art too—merely rehashes racism, does not challenge or unsettle it, repeats its insult and makes a mockery of it. At best, teaching white people such ABC’s of racist perception as, “Oh, I really do see black people as a largely undifferentiated mass,” is banal. More importantly, though, the way Linde’s art treats racism as something to smile and laugh at falsely takes the edge off it, is more likely to soothe racists than provoke them, negates the experiences of those of us who bear the burden of racism and even serves to reexpose us to it. If Linde’s art is provocative to

136

Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al.

anyone—and I think that the reaction to it speaks for itself—it is primarily to black people rather than the white majority. In short, Linde’s Afromantics is neither oppositional to the white gaze nor affi rmative of black people. Rather, its success depends on the approval of white middle-class audiences that eagerly applaud Linde’s unique ways of affi rming what it means to be white—having the privilege and power to indulge and consume the subordinated “other” without repercussions, relying on a notion of “provocative art” to escape accountability. Where am I as a black African woman and Swede in this equation? Left to giggle at my own abuse, told not to take it too seriously and be over-sensitive? I think not. Utz McKnight: When I view the Afromantic series I am reminded of one of the central elements of Spike Lee’s film Bamboozled (2000). The fi lm features the story of a TV show producer who wants to get himself fi red by creating a racist TV show, Mantan: The New Millennium Minstrel Show, which instead becomes a huge success. By the end of the film the leading actors of the TV show have realized that what they felt was initially a transgressive and revelatory moment by “blacking up” was merely the reproduction of their own racial subjugation. The Whites in the audience used the play on race by blacks in the show to escape the confi nes of colorblind reasoning, to act on their beliefs of racial difference without social consequences. There was no critical narrative or social practice beyond this perceived permission given to Whites to publically embrace their perception of supposed racial themes and difference. The show in the fi lm, as with the Afromantics series, reinforces the assumptions of racial difference, that race exists, without offering a way out of this perception. Neither the show in the film Bamboozled nor the Afromantics series provides the means for a conversation in the audience about the impact of racism on blacks, in fact blackening up reinforces the social description of the importance of race in the society. Those who are not white leave the Afromantics exhibition having experienced the effects of racial humiliation, not emancipation. As Beth pointed to earlier, it’s fi rst when Afromantics and its reception is subjected to the kind of critical scrutiny that we’re developing here that it can be used to address the problem of racism in Swedish society. To the extent that we manage to do that, we can make use of Linde’s art and its reception as symptomatic of the ability of Swedish multiculturalism to reproduce the racial pathologies that it presents itself as having overcome. The Afromantic series also reminds me of the art of Kara Walker. In the depiction of the intimacy of racial practices during slavery and the connection to life in today’s U.S. the viewer is left feeling not free of the racism it engages, but exposed once again in the supposed act of critical race work. Through his art Linde has created a representation of how Swedes see us. Nonetheless, his Afromantics art is inadequate to the task of addressing white racism since, to build on what Victoria just said, it doesn’t challenge

Racism Is No Joke

137

or unsettle white Swedes in their convictions of themselves as non-racist, egalitarian, morally superior and so on. There is no conversation between whites and non-whites in the work, but instead a static reminder of the representations of difference we live with every day. I don’t think we should fool ourselves as to the difficult nature of the struggle here and if anything I feel Linde has misunderstood the nature of his success. We should not remain content with the criticism of the mammies and Stepin Fetchit’s of the old Hollywood fi lms or Linde’s reintroduction of blackface to a new generation—we need to address the continuing social and political practices that allowed for these roles in the fi rst place as the only publicly available ones for blacks. Tobias Hübinette: We also need to remind ourselves that there’s nothing original about using racist humor in Sweden. It’s fair to say that humorous and ridiculing racial stereotyping is an integral part of the racism that developed in tandem with European colonialism. And as all other Western countries, Sweden has a history of public displays of racist caricatures of all kinds. In Sweden, however, “humorous” racial stereotypes are still broadly socially accepted. It’s only very recently that such displays have been met with some resistance from minority representatives. For example, a grinning yellow-faced man with slanted eyes and a “coolie hat” who is the logo of a popular package of chocolate covered rice puffs called “China Puffs” has recently been debated; a popular Swedish round shaped chocolate pastry can no longer be openly advertised as “Negro balls”; a licorice ice cream named “Nogger black,” with urban graffiti-style letters on its package and urban and graffiti-themed ads to go with it when it was launched a few years ago, is no longer sold; and a Golliwog-like image has been removed from a famous licorice brand. Such consequences, though, have been met with massive resistance from majority Swedes as exaggerated political correctness and as an unwelcome intrusion on personal liberties and Swedish traditions. Racial stereotypes typically aren’t seen as racist but as innocent and fun. In addition, white Swedes—as several of us already have mentioned—often regard themselves as categorically non-racist. They can therefore afford to laugh at racist representations without having to take responsibility for them or identify with their histories and their continuing consequences for minorities. Without keeping this in mind, it may be hard—especially for outsiders—to understand why Linde’s Afromantics art (including the cake installation) has been so lauded in Sweden. Linde’s monomaniacal blackface-reproducing art builds on and reinforces a normalized use of racist humor in Sweden. As such it helps maintain a situation where white Swedes need not bother to listen to minority members who object to being stereotyped and humiliated in the name of anti-racist art. It’s a kind of antiracism that awards a person a pat on the back by mainstream media and art critics, and a retrospective exhibition already at the age of 30 at a prestigious art gallery in Stockholm.

138

Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al.

I spent five hours today (June 8) at Linde’s most recent performance at a gallery in Kungsträdgården [The King’s Garden] in downtown Stockholm. The performance was supposed to enact the Last Supper in blackface with 12 disciples and Linde himself as Jesus. Through mainstream media and Facebook, the public had been called to an audition. Linde’s manager, Alexander Bard, was the casting director. In November last year Bard had caused a minor row by insisting to call black people “Negroes” as much as he pleases, and he dismissed a black actor who criticized him in public for this as a whimsical self-victimizer having no humor. On April 19, a couple of days after the installation, Bard made the sage-like observation on Twitter that, “Makode Linde’s art not only exposes racism, but the disturbing limitations of current antiracist discourse and its eternal victimhood myth.” The performance developed into a blackface party, with mingle, wine, and blackface balloons, and where anyone who wanted could have a blackface painted on them. Most of the participants were white, but I spotted some mixed race black Swedes, interracial couples and adoptees of color too. Linde’s grinning Afromantics art pieces were all over the place, paintings on the wall, small statuettes on display and in front of the entrance large man-sized blackface statues of what looked like Captain Jack Sparrow (from Pirates of the Caribbean) and Louis Armstrong and a tall blackfaced Native American totem pole. Pedestrians, many of them tourists, frequently stopped by to pose and take pictures of themselves together with the large statues. Several white elderly and affluent-looking buyers came in and inquired about the prices. Linde himself, a flamboyant blackface Jesus with a naked black painted torso, clearly loving all the attention, restlessly moved about, hugging, kissing, smiling, posing for cameras, occasionally blessing a follower with another grinning blackface mask.

A NATION OF ANTI-RACISTS Michael McEachrane: A recurring theme of this conversation is that the public reception of Linde’s art represents a crisis of Swedish anti-racism. It is the kind of “anti-racism” where one sees and projects oneself not only as against racism, but as already non-racist. This seems to go with a self-perception and image in the world of majority Sweden as unusually progressive, tolerant, egalitarian, welfarist, humanitarian and so on. Yet, conflating anti-racism with non-racism, either in oneself or as a society, is a disservice to racial equality. As Kitimbwa pointed out in that fi rst article in the Swedish newspaper Aftonbladet on April 17—it’s a problem for the struggle against racism if one fails to acknowledge it and Sweden is a society where the existence of racism is routinely denied. Racism in Sweden could perhaps be described as an extreme variant of what the sociologist Eduardo Bonilla-Silva has called “color-blind racism” or “a racism without racists.” It’s the kind of racism that allows for the logic that Linde’s installation at

Racism Is No Joke

139

the museum exposed racism even as neither the Minister nor anyone else at the museum were being racist. Thoughts? Victoria Kawesa: The situation is schizophrenic. Although in all major areas of welfare in Swedish society the situation is rapidly deteriorating for especially non-European migrants, Sweden’s national and international reputation as a champion of equality remains unshaken. Recently, this was reaffi rmed when Sweden scored highest of Western countries on the latest Migration and Integration Policy Index (2011) produced by the British Council. The Index measures how well national laws and policies provide immigrants with equal rights and opportunities. However, it says nothing of the actual outcomes of how well immigrants fare on, say, the job market. On the one hand, then, we have extensive proof of social exclusion, segregation, discrimination and racism in Sweden, on the other, it is upheld as the most equal and tolerant country in the world. Madubuko Diakité: As an African American immigrant who has been engaged in issues of racism and equal rights in Sweden for the past 40 years, I can say that so far it’s been a Sisyphean task to convince majority Swedes that race has any bearing on their society. Only during the past 10 years Swedish government agencies have issued thousands of pages of reports that clearly show that racial and ethnic discrimination is no less pervasive in Sweden than in most other Western countries. Yet, it’s almost as if such reports are produced merely to collect dust. Some of these reports have pointed out that when Swedish politicians speak of problems of integration, it’s always the immigrants who are the problem. Up until this day we are yet to see policies in Sweden that seek to redress racial discrimination. In fact, Sweden is so progressively color-blind that the term “race” has been expunged from its anti-discrimination law, constitution and official communications. Nonetheless, to the country’s million racial minorities who are discriminated against on the job and housing markets, in education, public forums and spaces—“race” still matters. It’s the most obvious denominator of the “we” versus “them” phenomenon that pervades Swedish society. The “we” portion of the population— whites, whether they are indigenous Swedes or not—are privileged to be at the helm. Whilst the “them”—non-whites, including all shades of African Diasporas—are unquestionably seen as problems. As long as African Diasporas and other non-whites in Sweden are seen as such, the burden is on them to fit in. This approach removes any focus from what arguably is the most fundamental issue with diversity in Sweden—whiteness as an unacknowledged but all-pervasive standard for being an equal in society. Momodou Jallow: I often describe the unacknowledged racism in Sweden, in particular as it affects black people, as a “LOUD silence.” This is true

140

Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al.

from how history is being told to our daily lives as Africans in Sweden. For example, school books about Swedish history will make sure to mention Carl von Linnaeus as the founder of the modern system of biological classification. But they will fail to mention that Linneaus also founded the modern classification of human beings into presumed hierarchical “races” with innate differences in both skin color and psychological disposition. They will likely mention the Swedish East India Company, but not the Swedish Africa Company and the Swedish West India Company—which traded in slaves. Neither will they mention that the Swedish slave trade was abolished fi rst on October 9, 1847 (40 years after the UK abolished its slave trade). Except for a conference which I helped organize at Malmö University, last years’ United Nations International Year for People of African Descent went by without a sound in Sweden. That same year on April 16, 2011 (incidentally, a year before the cake event), a jungle-themed student party was held at the nearby Lund University involving a slave auction with three white students as self-described “Niggers” in blackface and shackles, with nooses around their necks, led by an acting white slave trader. During the evening the other guests (all white) were encouraged to bid in a staged slave auction. When I found out about the spectacle I filed a complaint against the students for incitement to racial hatred. As a result I was bombarded by denigrating phone calls and threatening emails such as “We will shoot you and your nigger kids.” On top of such threats, a poster was pasted all over my hometown of Malmö, my workplace at Malmö University and in the nearby city of Lund. It showed a manipulated picture of myself as a slave in shackles with the caption, “This is our runaway Negro slave and he answers to the name Jallow Momodou. If you should fi nd him please call this number.” The incidents were reported by media around the world. The mock slave auction prompted the American civil rights activist, Reverend Jesse Jackson, to write a letter to the Swedish government calling for a response. In the letter he described the mock slave auction as “a very distasteful, harmful and hurtful act,” warned that “there are no slave trade jokes, there is too much hurt,” emphasized the importance that officials take action and make sure that the rights of black people are respected. Jackson also personally visited both Lund and Malmö universities to speak about the incidents. In addition, the European Network Against Racism sent a letter to the government condemning the mock slave auction and urging the government to take action. Nevertheless, the government never responded. And the prosecutor dropped the case against the students who were responsible for the slave auction with the explanation that there wasn’t any racist intent since “it was just a masquerade.” Dan Park, the artist who made the manipulated depiction of me in shackles, admitted to the crime without regret and said in court that he would do it again. The court sentenced him for incitement to racial hatred. However, in spite of his confessions and lack of remorse,

Racism Is No Joke

141

he was merely given a suspended sentence and a relatively low fi ne with the motivation that “the court has no reason to believe that the accused will commit a similar crime again.” As Madubuko just pointed out, there is no lack of attempts in Sweden to break the LOUD silence of a society that insists on seeing itself as nonracist in spite of its obvious racism. But I think it’s beginning to dawn on us that for this LOUD silence to be broken we need to challenge the image of Sweden in the eyes of the world. Tobias Hübinette: I would say that this peculiar denial of racism is bound up with an attachment to “good old Sweden” or Sweden as inherently good and white at the same time. The nation-building project of Sweden is deeply invested in an image of itself as just, progressive, humanitarian and so on, as well as being racially white. History is replete with examples of how Sweden’s national and (majority) ethnic identity has been built on ideas of racial superiority and the “pure” whiteness of its population. Ideas of racial homogeneity and purity were key themes of Swedish nation building from 1905—when the union with Norway was dissolved—and up until the 1960s. As an instruction book for Swedish soldiers put it in 1938: For a nation, the preservation of the good qualities of the race is of extraordinary importance in the eternally on-going struggle between the nations. The nation’s power, wealth and culture is dependent on that. Therefore, a mixture with a less valuable race is one of the greatest threats to an elevated people . . . A good racial material is our country’s biggest treasure. After 1968, the key themes of Swedish nation building shifted to be about humanitarianism, Third World solidarity, color-blindness, anti-racism and multiculturalism. Olof Palme captured the new spirit in a xmas speech in 1965: “Muddy race theories have never got a foothold here. We readily recognize ourselves as being without prejudices and tolerant.” This anti-racist national identity which developed from the 1960s, I would argue, was never about affi rming non-white people as equal subjects, citizens or members of the Swedish nation—not even when they were welcomed in relatively large numbers as migrants, refugees, students, partners or adoptees. In other words, the crisis of Swedish anti-racism is simultaneously a crisis of Swedish whiteness. It’s the crisis of a national and ethnic identity which has yet to come to grips with its racializing self-image, to which a non-white anti-racist Swede is an outrageous figuration, and which has created a climate where it is natural for the leader of an ethno-nationalist, anti-immigration, Islamophobic party with roots in National Socialism to assert that, ”We are not racists, and we distance ourselves from such opinions” (Jimmie Åkesson, the leader of the Sweden Democrats, in a speech in 2010).

142

Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al.

Utz McKnight: This conversation reminds me of how ten years ago, when I was teaching International Migration and Ethnic Relations (IMER) at Malmö University, a lawyer let me know that I was being accused by my colleagues of saying that they were racist. I responded in kind that I wasn’t sure what they meant or what I was being accused of. While he left with the ammunition he needed to fight for me, I sat there thinking how these scholars and teachers of multiculturalism, in a program designed to probe the problems migrants faced in Sweden, just had taken away my ability to suggest that certain ways of speaking and teaching allowed racism to flourish in society and in the academy specifically. What struck me then, as it had so many times before, was how vacuous the talk of racism became in a society where anti-racism became synonymous with mere slander instead of an important social critique. It is not a coincidence that the refusal to allow a critical voice on racial practices occurs in a society that trumpets its equality to the world while creating segregated cities on par with those in the U.S. or South Africa. The abject misery I have seen in Sweden amongst asylum seekers who can only remain silent for fear of deportation, the chronic unemployment of immigrant youth, the adopted Korean child of family friends who wrote to me in such sorrow after personally having witnessed the recent event of the “slave auction” in Lund—we cannot allow these things to be erased only to further Swedish national interests. To do so is to demean and cheapen the values of equality and democracy in the society. We need to fi nd a way to speak of racism as a problem in society for the sake of Sweden. It is only by allowing for a conversation about the impact of racism on immigrants that it becomes possible to address how race has become a central social element in the lives of Swedes.

BLACK SKULL CONSCIOUSNESS? Michael McEachrane: To follow up on what Utz just wrote, I think that the cake incident and its aftermath perhaps more than any previous public event shows that people of color in Sweden cannot afford to depend on the “good will” of the Swedish majority or political establishment to be treated with equal concern and respect. Needless to say, it goes with the standpoint of being white that one runs the risk of being blind to the workings of racism in oneself and society. To be white means that racism typically isn’t a problem to oneself so one has little personal reason to be preoccupied or bothered with it. In fact, acknowledging problems of racism as white may even run counter to one’s point of view as it could mean acknowledging those who one is racist toward. It may also come at the cost of creating a problem for oneself where previously there was none. Add to this, the selfimage of being a good, white, “anti-racist” Swede and we have a particularly potent form of negligence.

Racism Is No Joke

143

Call it classic “identity politics,” but as black people and other people of color in Sweden we cannot depend on the white establishment to be mindful of our interests. To the contrary, leaving it up to the white establishment only serves to perpetuate our subjugation. It would seem obvious that standing up, speaking and acting for ourselves is needed to dissolve an order that doesn’t give full weight to our humanity, subjectivity, voices, agency, etc. But how do we do this in Sweden? People of color may be about 10–15% of the population—although this percentage increases substantially the further down we go in ages—and, according to my own estimate based on country of origin, at least 1.8% of the population is black. Comments? Anders Neergaard: One way is to develop a broad based “black skull consciousness.” As you know, svartskallar (black skulls) is originally a derogatory Swedish term for inhabitants who are dark enough not to pass as ethnic “Swedes.” It has been picked up among those it is supposed to describe, and not least among the socio-economically underprivileged, to reference their position as outsiders. In our studies of migrant trade union activists, my colleague and partner, Diana Mulinari, and I have tracked a conscious effort to re-appropriate the term “black skull” as a symbol for commonality and struggle. As one migrant trade union activist put it: We are all black skulls . . . it does not matter where we come from . . . what we have in common is that we understand each other, we have the same experience, the same bloody work, the same suspicion when we go shopping, the same problem with the children . . . many say that we are not, but I say, as things are, we are all black skulls. We found that migrant trade union activists would often say such things as, “they got afraid, there were many of us black skulls in the room” or “the fi rst thing everybody does but never admitted before is check how many of us black skulls are in the meeting . . . before we did that in silence, now we ask how many black skulls.” The term is not merely used as a pan-ethnic term, but often as a marker of class too, as in, “She is not a real black skull, married to a Swede and with that job, she cannot represent us.” It is even sometimes used as a political concept that can include Swedish or Nordic (white) workers, as in “no problem with him, he is a real black skull.” In our view, such uses of the term “black skull” name an emerging Swedish pan-ethnic, immigrant, working-class identity. This is an identity which already is widespread in the socio-economically underprivileged and immigrant-dense housing projects in the “suburbs” (similar to the French “Banlieues”) of Swedish cities. I think this identity carries great potential in the formation of an antiracist consciousness—a black skull consciousness—in Sweden. First, it has the potential of being a force broad and strong enough to demand

144 Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al. a prominent position for racialized—black skull—subjects in anti-racist struggles (analogue to the centrality of women in a feminist movement or workers in a socialist movement). Second, it has the capacity to be a broad based common denominator for political activism—while simultaneously acknowledging that racisms exist in plural (for instance, that anti-black racism isn’t identical to the racism people of Middle Eastern or Asian backgrounds face). Third, it’s a term that can be used by activists and intellectuals alike to describe, analyze and resist certain basic, unequal power relations in Swedish society. As I see it, Linde’s installation (in how it asserted rather than challenged the white middle- and upper-class establishment) and the lack of public outrage against the event and especially the Minister’s actions—could be described as an absence of black skull consciousness. Fatima El-Tayeb: This reminds me of the appropriation of “kanake” in Germany. Originating in Germany’s all but forgotten colonial past, “kanake” is a derogatory term for “migrant” (i.e., those perceived as not belonging to the nation, independent of their immigration status, and not applied to migrants read as white). In the late 1990s, the term was politicized by the loose antiracist activist collective, Kanak Attak, largely made up of second generation immigrants. The group proclaimed the “end of dialogue culture,” refusing to take part in a (neo-)liberal multiculturalist discourse—requiring their and their parents’ generation to constantly explain and justify their presence in Germany. Its focus on racialization by the majority, rather than the ethnic identification of group members, was subversive and effective for quite some time. However, I think in the end, the refusal to be divided by race, ethnic background, immigration status, etc., resulted in a blind spot for specific forms of racism that affects some but not all “Kanaken”—and which may even be an issue amongst “Kanakens” themselves—in particular with regard to anti-black/African racism. Still, their attempt to shift the focus to the ways German society produces some communities within Germany as foreign— rather than to endlessly discuss what these communities can do to become less foreign—was an important coalition-building tool for communities of color (though it did not lastingly change dominant discourses on Germanness and if anything, white racism seems to have gotten worse since the late 1990s, especially when addressing Muslims). Victoria Kawesa: I would have similar concerns about a black skull consciousness movement in Sweden. Although I acknowledge its potential to challenge the racism of white majority Swedes, I suspect that in Sweden too, a black skull movement would have difficulties addressing issues that are specific to black/African people. Such a movement would be a crowded bunch of various races, ethnicities, genders, religions, sexualities, dis/abilities, class and national backgrounds. All kinds of hierarchies, power relations and overlapping grounds for discrimination would be present. Would it be conscious

Racism Is No Joke

145

enough to handle such complexity? I have my doubts. From my experience as a black African female anti-racist scholar and activist, other black skulls are not more prone than white Swedes to be conscious of the dynamics of anti-black racism or sympathetic toward addressing issues that are specific to black/African people—even if they indeed may be more motivated to challenge the racism of white Swedes than white Swedes themselves are. Minna Salami: What makes Anders’ call challenging in my opinion from my personal experience of being a female black skull in Sweden, are the ideas of womanhood that I had to grapple with that were in opposition to female empowerment, such as the misogynistic hip hop that was appropriated, or problematic traditional attitudes. I also experienced racism towards myself as an African from other black skulls who often had ties to countries that harbor as much racism as Sweden. I do think that a black skull consciousness can be useful but only to the extent that it uses its own experience of racism to combat it within its community and if it confronts patriarchal values. Having recently watched shocking abuse towards black Africans in countries such as Libya, Israel and Lebanon to name a few, it’s important to note that the protest on racism towards black Africans is not only directed at the white subject but at all hatred towards black Africans. Kitimbwa Sabuni: I think Anders points to several potential strengths of a black skull consciousness movement, and, of course, it would be in our interest if we as racialized Swedes became aware of and acted on the commonality of our predicament. My problem with Anders’ call for black skull consciousness isn’t the call itself. I see no opposition in principle between black skull consciousness and black consciousness. However, calling for a black skull consciousness, when we don’t even have a black Swedish consciousness yet, runs the risk of undermining the development of black Swedish subjectivity. Further, I don’t think that we as black Swedes can be effective in a black skull rainbow coalition unless we fi rst embrace ourselves as black. I think that the need for self-embrace goes for any racialized group, but it is specifically crucial for blacks since the racial hierarchy established by white hegemony places blacks at the bottom. Black people who embrace a black skull identity before they embrace their blackness could very well be involved in the same kind of escapism as racialized people who accept the dominant Swedish discourse of color blindness, which we all recognize to be false. It’s my impression that racialized people who wish to have a broad black skull coalition tend to downplay race altogether. This brings to mind a panel discussion about the conditions of people living in the suburbs that I and Tobias participated in. The great majority of people living in our underprivileged suburbs are people of color, so the question of race became something like the elephant in the room. But when I, Tobias and a few others ventured to mention race as an issue we were immediately attacked by other panelists

146

Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al.

of Latino and Middle Eastern background who thought that race wasn’t an admissible category for discussing social issues. All of these people were black skull conscious in the sense that they wanted to see a broad coalition of nonwhite peoples, some even belonged to an organization called the Panthers (a Swedish “Black Skull Panther Party”). I should also add that the largely white audience was firmly on their side against us. Race should not be an issue in Sweden they argued. I do realize that Anders can’t be held responsible for their version of black skull consciousness, but I already see, in the Swedish black skull consciousness that you describe Anders, a misleading color blindness and an unwillingness to address issues that are specific to being black/African. What is more, I don’t think that black skull consciousness stands in opposition to a racially and ethnically defi ned white Sweden. The mere choice of designating oneself with a derogatory term coined by white Swedes to point to one’s exclusion can easily serve to affirm it. “Black skull” isn’t merely derogatory; it’s also a synonym for “immigrant” (invandrare) which in Sweden has become a code word for non-white. The problem with both “immigrant” and “black skull” is that contrary to hyphened terms such as “Afro-Swede,” they signal permanent otherness. An “immigrant” or a “black skull” can never make any real claims on Sweden since he or she is an outsider per defi nition who the real (white) Swedes have allowed in but who remains a stranger and at best a guest.

POLITICIZING BLACK SWEDISH SUBJECTIVITY Michael McEachrane: Although we all recognize the expediency of broad coalitions against racism, as several of you just pointed out, any coalition that is to include fighting anti-black racism needs to attend to the particularities of our positions as black. As some of you have made clear, the struggle against anti-black racism also needs to attend to the gendered particularities of such positions. Furthermore, what seems clear from the reception of Linde’s art is that in order for us as black Swedes to be politically conscious as black, it is essential that we attend to our positions as multi-racial vis-à-vis mono-racial black Swedes. The morning after World Art Day, Kitimbwa and Makode Linde debated the event on TV4 on Swedish Television. At one point Kitimbwa said that in the past Swedish governments have been quick to fi re ministers who have caused offense, but that when Afro-Swedes are affected no actions are taken. To this Linde, clearly frustrated, exclaimed, I’m Afro-Swedish. You cannot sit there and say that you have more right to claim Afro-Swedishness than I do. I think it’s silly when you are going to sit there and claim Afro-Swedishness as something that only you have a right to be. I also have a right to be Afro-Swedish and I am Afro-Swedish and have the right to talk about it in a way I find interesting.

Racism Is No Joke

147

In a similar fashion, Tebogo Monnakgotla, another mixed-race AfroSwede, had an article in Dagens Nyheter where she, referring to the debate on TV4, claimed that Kitimbwa has no right to assert that he is a spokesperson for Afro-Swedes whereas Linde is not and that the National Association of Afro-Swedes are too quick to scream racism. Furthermore, she argued that Linde’s installation and other blackface art was important antiracist work, that blackface can lose its power to abuse when it’s brought to life in such a way that one can laugh at it and that racism must be allowed to be subjectively processed. There are a string of other mixed-race AfroSwedes with some public recognition who likewise have defended Linde’s installation and other blackface art as genuinely anti-racist. This may be contrasted to the fact that every Afro-Swede with a public voice who has not been mixed-race has unambiguously criticized the event. I’m sure you will all agree that it is politically expedient for mixed-race Afro-Swedes to embrace their proximity to black people or at least not reject it. However, I suspect that you will also agree that mixed-race AfroSwedes need to be mindful of their ambiguous racial positions and proximity to whiteness and what this implies in terms of their relation to anti-black racism, white people and other darker complexioned brothers and sisters who are not mixed-race. This is not to cause division or to fall into the trap of valuing some racial positions as more authentic, appropriate or otherwise better than others. But it is to say that we as black people do not indiscriminately take up the same position and that we need to be mindful of how we are subjected to differing forms of discrimination according to our gender, racial background, ethnicity, class, religion, and so on. Comments? Kitimbwa Sabuni: What I see as our main problem in fighting anti-black racism in Sweden is that there are so few of us who are engaged in the struggle and that the complacency among us is too great. I disagree with those who claim that the reason for our lack of engagement is a fear of what we might lose in material terms by criticizing a society that gives us material comfort. Rather, it is a matter of needing the approval of white Swedes. Many of us cannot handle losing that approval because we have a relationship with white Swedes like a child to a parent or a beneficiary to a benefactor. It is a highly colonial relationship and if we cannot free ourselves of this condition we will be doomed to subjugation and reliving cake incidents for all eternity. With regard to black/white mixed-race Swedes—sure, I can see how their closeness to whiteness, not only in terms of their racial position but also family relations, can endanger them to be complicit with white hegemony. With the risk of being too psychologizing, I think this is particularly true if they have not developed close and nurturing relationships with black people. Unfortunately, I see too many black/white mixed-race Swedes who grow up without their black parents. I imagine it to be very hard for these individuals to form

148

Beth Maina Ahlberg, et al.

positive black identities or have otherwise affirming relationships to their black ancestries—not to mention to affirm black people in their society. Fatima El-Tayeb: I think that one problem we’re faced with here is that there’s literally no language to talk about a black European positionality. The problem that European-born black people face, mixed or not (and I think it would be interesting to look closer at “mixed” and “black” as categories), is that their positionality is illegible in dominant discourse, experientially they are European, but this is a concept that is intrinsically tied to whiteness, so they are categorized as African/immigrant, but that identity if taken on, even as a marker of resistance, always has an element of appropriation, since it lacks the experiential foundation. This, I think, makes it harder to develop a sense of collective identity, which arguably is a precondition to successful resistance—which is why with all its dangers and weaknesses, a people of color/kanaken/black skull movement seems the more viable option to me; yes, there is anti-black racism among people of color, there is Islamophobia among people of color, it is not as if we are immune to the constant feed of white supremacist propaganda that marks us all as deviant; but I see more potential in an attempt to create a people of color coalition than in forming one with white people, including anti-racists. On the other hand, identification with whiteness does not make one white, nor does it negate one’s blackness. I am not trying to excuse “white-identified” black people, but I think theirs is a strategy that seems to offer relief from racism through disidentification with blackness, but that can never be fully successful, thus producing constant pressures that fi nd relief in acts of exorcizing one’s own blackness (by disavowing black activism that is not conciliatory, by making fun of blackness, etc.). The externalization of blackness that Linde practices seems almost like this kind of exorcism to me, an attempt to get rid of the abject qualities of blackness by putting them on through a blackface performance (implying that these hated elements of blackness are not already part of oneself, that one can choose to take them on or not). Victoria Kawesa: Sure there’s a need for mixed-race Afro-Swedes to take responsibility for their raced positions. We should all take responsibility for our raced positions. And our gendered positions too. As many of us have already touched on, the Hottentott cake incident was the time for all of us to reflect on those positions and especially those we inhabit as black people—even amongst ourselves—that are intersectional and inscribed into social hierarchies that in various ways and circumstances make us lack or gain privilege. Ignoring these common concerns and re-inscribing black issues as, say, inherently male or one dimensional, is nothing more than an attempt at pushing these important issues to the margins. England-Sweden-U.S.A., June 4–12, 2012.

6

Searching for Words Becoming Mixed Race, Black and Sweden Anna Adeniji

In 2010 the national Swedish bureau of statistics, Statistics Sweden, published the fi rst report to focus on non-immigrant Swedes with one or both parents from a foreign country.1 The report exemplifies some of the issues surrounding “mixed race” (and “race” in general) in Sweden—for example, the absence of the term race in Sweden’s official social, political and legal discourses. The only means of pinpointing racialized groups in the report is to make assumptions based on where the parents of the Swedish born citizens were born. Assumptions which in turn run the risk of consolidating outmoded notions of racially predestined nations and continents. Nevertheless, the report proves some of what many of us expected, for instance, that it is more difficult to make a career if you have a parent born outside of Europe or that residential segregation not only is a matter of class background but also of in which part of the world your parents were born and how you look. 2 Fair to say, racial issues are nearly impossible to address in Sweden. The word ras (Swedish for “race”) is hardly ever used as a social category. Instead it is almost exclusively associated with essentializing notions of inherent qualities, biology, blood lines and skin color. Consequently, it is generally held that only racists use the term. How, then, may we grapple with racism in a country where few want to talk about race in spite of the existence of racial structures and discrimination? And how do we address issues of “mixed race” when there is no language for it? Being a native-born Swede of a white Swedish mother and a black Nigerian father, I fi nd such questions both personally and politically vital. The focal point of this essay is what it may mean to be a Swede of mixed African-Swedish descent. Today, the term Afro-Swedish (in Swedish: afrosvensk) are heard with increasing frequency. 3 As is common in the Diaspora, the prefi x “afro-” broadly signifies people of African descent. Such a broad concept may be favorable as a tool for creating an identity, a sociological category or for educational purposes. On the other hand it has the potential disadvantage of making the identity of a group monolithic when it is not and rendering invisible all the variations within the group that broadly speaking can be called “Afro-Swedish.” I do, however, hope

150

Anna Adeniji

that some of my experiences of being “mixed race” can be related to experiences of other “Afro-Swedes”–whether or not they have a white parent or are raised in Sweden. The aim of this essay is not to cover all the complexities surrounding the concept or the various social situations of “mixed race” people in Sweden. My aim is merely to point out some issues and consequences connected with the concept of “mixed race” in contemporary Sweden. This essay consists of three parts. First, I outline a Swedish context of my subject. Second, I discuss the term “mixed race” and its complexities. Third, I suggest that we need to think about “mixed race” in a strategic rather than essentialist sense. As the title of this essay suggests, “mixed race” is not something you just are, it is something you become—through language, culture, politics and hierarchies. I think that the “mixed race” position—to the extent that we can speak of it in the singular—is inherentlyambiguous. It is an invariably shape-shifting category that assumes different identities in different contexts. I have written this essay as an auto-biographical piece, reflecting on the intertwining of growing up, and becoming something always already moving to the next place. I find the inherent ambiguity of the “mixed race” position to have much in common with the increasingly trans-ethnic, transcultural, transnational and contested position of being “Swedish” in today’s Swedish society. These sort of racial, ethnic, cultural and national ambiguities are a growing trend in todays Europeand are poignantly captured by the Italian philosopher Rosi Braidotti’s concept of the nomadic subject.

A SWEDISH CONTEXT To understand what it means to be “mixed race” in Sweden, we need to take note of the particular hegemony of whiteness in Swedish society. It almost goes without saying that there is a strong association between Swedishness and whiteness. This is true both internationally and nationally. Around the world, Northern Europe and perhaps Sweden in particular, is commonly perceived as the epitome of whiteness, from the “Nordic type” of old racial science to today’s pop-cultural representations of blond and blue eyed Vikings. Knowing this, it is not surprising how strong the connection is between whiteness, Swedish ethnicity and Swedish nationality. This despite sizeable minorities of Samis, Romas and Jews, whose inclusion in the national community has been tenuous at best.4 Today the connection between being a “Swede” and being “white” is, in a rapidly changing demographic landscape, combined with a professed ideology of “color blindness.” 5 For instance, as in the example given above, demographic statistics in Sweden factor in the country of origin of individuals and even the country of origin of their parents, but not race. Color blindness in the sense of seeking not to discriminate against anyone on the

Searching for Words

151

basis of “color,” and stressing everyone’s equal moral standing in society regardless of “race,” is obviously to be encouraged. But in a reality short of such an ideal, a “color-blind” society blinds itself to how and to what extent it is falling short of equality and what needs to be done to seek its remedy. Crucially—at what is both the most general and intimate level—it blinds itself to the true significance of “color” in our personal lives, not least the personal lives of us individuals of color. Even if it might be possible to “pass” as Swedish when you are a mixed race woman like myself, a Swedish national born in Sweden to a white Swedish mother, who self-identifies as Swedish and is in every way acculturated to Swedish society, it is still the color of my skin that draws a line between myself and “ethnic Swedes”. It is your physical appearance that forces you to answer the question in perpetuity, “But where are you from, really?” This question has given me many headaches. When I need to answer where I’m from, “really,” I most often just say, “Sweden,” and if I’m in an accommodating mood I explain where my mother and my father are from. To this day, I haven’t met many people who do not insist on the longer version. If it is a white Swedish person asking they usually want an explanation of why my skin is dark. If it is a person from West Africa or even Nigeria, where my father is from, they want to know so that they can determine my ethnic background. Although it is not politically correct to talk about Swedishness in terms of race, we are constantly flooded with cultural expressions and representations that link Swedishness with whiteness. I would even claim that the sharpest dividing line between being a Swede and a “foreigner” is not religion, culture, nationality nor even ethnicity, which can all be transcended, but whether or not a person is “white” enough. In Sweden the relative centrality of whiteness to society is particularly insidious in that it is never explicitly acknowledged (not to mention challenged) and is unconsciously and routinely rehearsed through what Sara Ahmed aptly has termed “habits of whiteness.”6 It is due to such habits that I am constantly at risk of becoming a stranger in society, even in my most intimate circle of Swedish friends and family. Let me tell you a story. Not long ago I visited a dear childhood friend of mine. Her brother, who I hadn’t seen for years, was also visiting with his wife and son. The child got a bit shy when I entered the room, whereby the father leaned forward to his son and gently said: “Oh, you think she looks a bit strange, don’t you?” I didn’t know what to think at fi rst but I soon realized that he was referring to the color of my skin. In an attempt to not lose face, I froze in a silly smile and raised my eyebrows as a silent question. The father turned to me and said in an explanatory tone that the child always “stares a little bit extra when he sees Black and Asian people, for example getting on the same bus as him.” No one in the room reacted to this. I wasn’t even sure that they had heard. Because of that one sentence, “You think she looks a bit strange, don’t you?”, I had become a

152

Anna Adeniji

stranger to the very people whom I have known since childhood. It was a situation where my non-white body clearly became a deviation. Suddenly I saw all the white people around me and felt how my own body became an otherness that was explained to the child as strange. My silly smile hung on my face as a shameful reminder that I didn’t even own a language to address what bothered me. The room which I previously had perceived as friendly and familiar now became a place where I had to reorient myself in contradistinction to the other people sitting there. The explanation that the child noticed “Black and Asian people” in a different manner than he did white people showed this family’s apparent lack of non-whites in their close circle. “The others” are people you occasionally meet on the bus and not in the more familiar vicinities of one’s home. This shows how it is possible to live in an urban environment of Sweden today, without having to get used to interacting with people who are not perceived as white. Demographic data supports this, showing that both Stockholm and Gothenburg are exceptionally segregated.7 The sorry effects of this kind of mundane habituation of whiteness and othering become all the more apparent when considering its more aggressive racist expressions. Sweden has had a fairly good reputation around the world as a society of welfare, civil rights, equal opportunity, gender equality and international solidarity. Not least Swedes often have this perception of themselves. I do not know how many times I have heard that “we” are not racists in Sweden. Today, though, such sentiments are not easily maintained. As elsewhere in Europe there has been a marked increase in Sweden of xenophobia and reactionary forms of ethnonationalism. Here both perceptions of cultural distance and race play a role and often go hand-in-hand as they primarily seem to concern the perceived differences of non-Europeans and non-Christians. In Sweden the cultural climate is such that if you don’t look “Swedish”— that is to say, white, and often, more specifically, Northern European—then you will likely be regarded an “immigrant” (even if you, like me, are born in Sweden, have Swedish citizenship and so forth). To be “mixed race” in Sweden is therefore always entangled with notions of migration and immigration status. In 2010 Sweden joined the European trend of electing a populist right-wing, openly xenophobic party into parliament.8 The Sweden Democrats, as they call themselves, grew out of Swedish neo-Nazism but has in later years worked very hard to be accepted as a clean, democratic political party. Their party slogan is “Safety & Tradition.” Nevertheless, when reading the party’s political program it becomes clear that the slogan refers to an ethnonationalistic idea of safety and tradition: it is white Swedes who should be safe from “others” (i.e. immigrants in general and Muslims in particular), and there are “Swedish” traditions that should be protected and valued. The night of the election, September 19, 2010, I felt my world closing in on me as a woman of color in Sweden. I remembered the last time a

Searching for Words

153

xenophobic party gained seats in the Swedish parliament, the short-lived political party New Democracy, who were members of parliament during the period of 1991 to 1994. New Democracy advocated “common sense” and more restrictive immigration policies. Back then, just as now, the political rhetoric, as well as the media coverage, seemed to equate Swedes with white people and non-white people with immigrants.9 One of the more extreme manifestations of this political climate was a murderer who in the media was referred to as the Laser Man (since he shot people with a rifle with laser sight). He shot eleven people in the area of Stockholm and Uppsala between August 1991 and January 1992. One of them died, the rest were injured. The only thing that the victims had in common was that they didn’t look Swedish. Their dark hair and/or dark skin made them a target. In interviews the Laser Man partly justified his crimes by referring to the political and media discourse of the day: he thought that he did the country a favor by targeting people who no one wanted here anyway.10 As I am writing this, in October 2010, the police are hunting for what they believe is a copycat of the Laser Man. Just as in 1991, journalists are now seeing a connection between racist politics and a racist killer. Given the complicities of Swedishness with whiteness, there are a host of questions that arise around the relationships between whiteness, blackness and being “mixed race” in Sweden. How, if at all, may someone like myself be said to be “white,” “black,” “Swedish,” “mixed race,” all of the above, some of the above, neither? For instance, how, if at all, is it possible for a “mixed race” woman like me to be an ethnic Swede (and, one may add, why would I want that in the fi rst place)? And what does this say about Swedishness, whiteness, blackness, my own position as a “mixed race” woman and a country where a growing number of its citizens have a similar ambiguous (racial, ethnic and/or cultural) relationship to the majority as I do? From my Swedish horizon it has been crucial for me to repeatedly pose such questions anew. There has never been any surrounding community for me from which to inherit a determinate sense of self as raced. No larger black collectives and pervasive homegrown traditions of “black culture,” “black consciousness” or “black solidarity,” and on a more personal note, not even a present black parent. In addition, I have come of age in a society that has denied that race is relevant and taught me that consciousness of race isn’t worth cultivating. The university town of Uppsala, where I grew up, is home to the disturbing legacy of Carl Linnaeus’ racial studies in the 18th century as well as The State Institute for Racial Biology which was founded in 1922 on behalf of the Swedish government to the study of eugenics.11 This legacy, which has been crucial to the development of notions of racial hierarchy, was never addressed in the schools of my childhood during the 1980s and 90s. Instead I learnt that Uppsala was an open, tolerant and intellectually advanced place to grow up in. If I as a youngster was subjected to racial discrimination it would have been highly unlikely that I was able to identify

154 Anna Adeniji it (except for in the most explicit cases) as I believed that although I no doubt had an exotic background, the problems of race and racism was of no immediate concern to me and those around me. The tiny “color consciousness” I acquired as a child mainly reached me through mass popular media such as television, music and movies. Some of these messages about race that reached me—most of them from the U.S.—I found hard to decipher and contextualize. For instance, I remember how puzzled I was when I fi rst came across the “one drop rule.” It was on television in the mini-series North and South12 and I was about 10 years old. In the series a rich white woman became ostracized during the American civil war since it turned out that she had a black grandmother and therefore actually was black. The insight that someone could be “black” without having the slightest dark complexion puzzled me. I looked at this woman’s face and I heard the words that defi ned her racial status, but I couldn’t make the connection. She didn’t look black to me. My older sister carefully tried to explain the link to me between race and blood, but it still seemed strange and unsettling. Such messages, and the deeply mixed messages from my surrounding society, put me on a largely solitary quest of trying to place myself in the world as a raced subject. It has always been important to me that I in some ways—being born and raised in Sweden by a Swedish mother, without any larger black community, and so on—am an ethnic Swede, and simply defi ning myself as black has never been an option to me. On the other hand, I would say that in some ways I am black. But also “mixed race,” Swedish and even in some respects white.

MIXED HOW? When speaking of “mixed race” in Sweden, it is important to keep in mind its particular understanding of ras (Swedish for “race”). An inability to talk about ras has brought many Swedish scholars to substitute the term for the concept of etnicitet (“ethnicity”). In Swedish diversity and anti-discrimination policies too, the term etnicitet has gained acceptance as a substitute for ras.13 The concept of ethnicity, though, is largely inadequate to address the social realities of “race” and “mixed race” people. I am glad to see how the term racialized (in Swedish: rasifierad) is gaining influence among activists and in some academic circles, as a way to describe people who are attributed racial stereotypification and exposed to racial discrimination. Still the term is not yet widely accepted nor used in political discourse or public media. It almost goes without saying that “ethnicity” and “race” are not synonymous. Belonging to a racial group is not the same as belonging to an ethnic group if by that one means something along the lines of a group with a shared culture. This is precisely the kind of essentialistic thinking about

Searching for Words

155

race that substituting it with the term ethnicity is supposed to steer clear of. It is commonly held in Sweden that since the term ras has such a loaded and destructive history, and does not stand for a biologically meaningful category (with designated physical and psychological types), we should avoid the term itself.14 Still, racialized relations and hierarchies and deeply rooted notions of ras do not disappear just because we, in the name of conceptual rigor, choose not to speak about them. It is not until we actually speak about ras and what we mean by it that we can understand its sociocultural significance. I am afraid that the general Swedish silence about ras just might keep it trapped in the sphere of essentializing race-biology rather than transcending it. Moreover, although notions of racial essences remain central to the everyday realities of race, it would be wrong to think that the social significances of race can be reduced to a simple-minded psychobiological category. For instance, one need only consider that the aesthetic judgments and standards that are involved in notions of racial difference— about skin tones, hair textures, facial features and body types—need not implicate beliefs in psychobiological types or essences. In speaking about “mixed race,” then, we need to rid ourselves of the notion that it simply, and wrongly, suggests that there are races to mix. As I am about to argue, it would be deeply misleading to think of “mixed race”—be it as a social position or as a personal identity—as a singular and stable category that can be sufficiently defi ned as, for instance, “partwhite and part-black,” “both black and white,” “in between black and white” or “light-skinned black.” Instead, I would say that it belongs to the social and existential predicament of being “mixed race” that it is a highly unstable, indeterminate, fluid and context-dependent category. Similarly, although I in part am sympathetic to today’s trend in the U.S. to self-identify as “mixed race,” “biracial,” or “multiracial,” rather than as “black,” it also seems to me that it would be misleading to believe that to be “mixed race” is to be categorically “not black” or “both black and white” or “race transcendent.” I should think that especially in a society such as the Swedish, with a nearly all-pervasive white majority (perhaps no longer in numbers, but still in influence), one is more likely to experience one’s “mixed race” status as a “free floating signifier.” There is no pre-assigned position for one in society other than as a kind of anomaly, an exception to the rule, a hard-tocategorize creature. Therefore, I think many of us, in a makeshift manner, have improvised a cohesive sense of self best we have known how out of the little that has been available to us. It is my impression that many “mixed race” people in Sweden have responded to this experience by asserting their Swedishness and simultaneously broadly identifying as black. At least, this is the way me, my siblings and most of our “mixed race” friends have handled the situation. I don’t think it should be mistaken for a contemporary version of the one-drop rule. Rather it is because I realize that as “mixed race” individuals we at least are

156 Anna Adeniji people of color; that we will at least occasionally be perceived as black or be strongly associated with blackness and black people; and that because of this we have had to grapple with issues of race, racial identity, racial stigma and discrimination in our lives. I think this generally holds true of “mixed race” people, perhaps except for those who do not look “mixed” and/or “black.” It might therefore be misleading to think of “mixed race” as being “both black and white” or categorically “not black.” On the other hand I experience my “mixed racedness” as more central to who I am than my blackness. This is because my racial and ethnic ambiguities as “mixed race” have been more central to my sense of self than my proximities to blackness. As “mixed race,” and perhaps especially living in a nearly all-pervasive white ethnic Swedish context, I have felt the brunt of navigating a world where I may be perceived as “black,” “not really black,” “not fully Swedish,” “Swedish,” “immigrant,” “mulatto,” “nearly white,” and so on. I have felt the pressure of not being fully at home in any racial or ethnic identity and having to deal with being “not Swedish enough,” “too black” and “not black enough”; of trying to fit in and be accepted as “Swedish,” being afraid of being judged by black people as not pro-black or even worse as anti-black, never being fully certain of my identity, sometimes ending up feeling alienated, harboring resentments toward white and black, not to mention feeling weary of these endless quandaries about race . . . One need not invoke the “tragic mulatto” stereotype to acknowledge that having to live with racial ambiguity (and often ethnic and cultural ambiguity too) and being without a determinate sense of belonging is central to the experience of being “mixed race.” It is in the context of the pressures of such ambiguity that I understand the “I’m-‘mixed’-not-‘black’”-identity of the multiracial movement that has taken off in the U.S. as a way of saying, “Enough! This is who I am in all my complexity. Take it or leave it. I am no longer going to downplay any aspect of myself and pretend to fit any one box that society has created for me.” Although I am broadly sympathetic to such a response I also think it runs the risk, as David Parker and Miri Song has pointed out, of romanticizing the “mixed race” position as a new identity which is race transcendent, can bridge racial differences or eradicate racism.15 To this I would add that such a response runs the risk of using “mixed racedness” as an excuse to ride the waves of what generally may be referred to as white privilege, and try to escape the quandaries and responsibilities of race. Coming to terms with this in my own life has not been easy and I am constantly learning. The process began during my teenage years in the early 1990s, when the political climate in Sweden turned cold on immigrants and the so-called “Laser man” shot people who were not white. Slowly I began to understand that I could have been one of those “immigrants” who were being targeted. Around this time, two concurrent yet conflicting sentiments began taking shape in me. On the one hand it became desperately important for me to assert that I in fact was Swedish and not African and

Searching for Words

157

“immigrant.” On the other hand, as I realized that because of the color of my skin the official discourse on immigrants included me, and that I too was being racialized by society, I for the first time felt a need to develop a resistance built on solidarity with people who looked like me. Such resistance, though, was difficult to put into practice since no one except militant racists talked about race and skin color. As every other kid in the liberal bourgeois city where I grew up I had been taught not to see skin color. The crux was that whereas the white kids did not have to deal with issues of race, I did. Although I initially tried to lean back on the supposed color blindness around me, I realized that it only gave reason for the white people around me to not openly acknowledge such issues. I was confused about how to grasp the experience of being both, either or neither, feeling Swedish but looking African, being born and raised in Sweden but spoken to as an immigrant. I ended up trying to fi nd a way to be ethnically Swedish, but racially different. What helped me resolve such a seeming contradiction was that suddenly in the beginning of the 1990s there were several Swedish “mixed race” women on TV, in movies and the music industry. To name a few, Camilla Henemark, Titiyo Jah, Kayo Shekoni, Alice Bah Kuhnke and Blossom Tainton. To a foreign audience these few names may seem silly, but for me as a teenager their presence was astonishing. They were hot, smart and talented, and they were doing something to the cultural imaginary of Swedishness. They certainly did not look “Swedish,” but, it seemed to me, performed Swedishness perfectly and were altering the possibilities of who could be a Swede. What I was not able to grasp then, and which I have grappled with since I was able to get a handle on it, is that as for the possibility of being a “mixed race” ethnic Swede, being “part white” helps. Being of part white ethnic Swedish descent, being raised by a white Swedish parent, and having partly ambiguous racial features means that I have been able to closer approximate Swedishness and whiteness than if both of my parents were black and not Swedish. It has made it more likely for ethnic Swedes to identify themselves with me (as ethnic Swedes) and I with them. And it has made it easier for me to be seen, and to see myself, as a “Swede,” even if an exotic-looking one, and made my “difference” to ethnic Swedes less stark, more acceptable, even more palatable (for instance, by making it more likely that my “mixed racedness” closer approximates white beauty standards). In addition, I readily know how to move in a room, how to speak, to dress, what to think, what to value, and so on, in order to pass as a highly integrated middle-class ethnic Swede. Just as it generally seems nearly impossible for white people to come to grips with their privileged positions in the world as white, it is also difficult for one as a “mixed race” person to come to grips with and integrate one’s proximity to whiteness. I have felt the temptations—which I think are inherent to the “mixed race” position—of distancing myself from

158 Anna Adeniji (other) black people, thinking that I am (categorically) different, not like them, in fact, not them, and, more importantly, of moving myself up the racial hierarchy and perceiving myself as more Swedish, implicitly “more white” than non-“mixed race” black people (and sometimes even flattering myself for perhaps not seldom being seen as such by white people). On the other hand I have also sometimes dreamt of being unambiguously and “authentically” black, which comes with a related but different set of moral conundrums. It is an open secret of being “mixed race,” that one is faced with the responsibility of one’s embodied proximity to notions of white superiority. But rather than facing up to this responsibility it may also be a temptation as a “mixed race” person—not least for a “mixed race” Swede—to disavow oneself of race, or at least downplay its significance in one’s life, and to think of oneself as neither black nor white, as beyond racial categories, and become someone who tries to avoid all the fuss about race.

BECOMING A NOMADIC SUBJECT In today’s Europe it is becoming increasingly common to have an ambiguous and indeterminate racial, ethnic and/or cultural identity. It is not an uncommon experience to, for instance, be born in Sweden by Turkish or Latin American parents, have lived in Sweden one’s entire life and have an ethnic and cultural identity that is multifaceted and ambiguous.16 In Stockholm there is an independent, non-profit organization, The Betweenship (in Swedish: Mellanförskapet), which addresses the growing prevalence of such experiences of people in Sweden who are mixed race, transnational adoptees and children of immigrants. On their website they write: Despite Europe’s long tradition of immigration, it has failed to welcome people of foreign descent into its inner chambers. The core of Europe and the image of a true European is still Caucasian, Christian and conservative. An immigrant stays defined as an immigrant all through life, regardless of time spent on European soil. This definition is passed down for several generations and is often applied to children who have never seen anything but this continent. Accordingly, many youths turn their backs on Europe and willingly define themselves as anything but Europeans. But in their parents’ homelands they’re also treated as foreigners. They’re stuck between their own homeland and the homelands of their elders. Instead of thriving off of their cultural richness, these youths are restrained to being defined as semi-immigrant, second class citizens.17 Rosi Braidotti has effectively described the conditions of racial, ethnic and/ or cultural ambiguity, “in-betweenship” and rootlessness that many people in Europe are faced with today in terms of being a nomadic subject.18 The

Searching for Words

159

nomadic subject, she writes, is “a political fiction that allows [us] to think through and move across established categories and levels of experience: blurring boundaries without burning bridges.”19 For me, the metaphor of the nomadic subject makes it possible to conceptualize and embrace the ceaseless shifting and movement of my racial and ethnic positions. In Braidotti’s terms, being a nomadic subject is a deliberate choice “to stay a subject in transit and yet sufficiently anchored to a historical position to accept responsibility and therefore make myself accountable for it.”20 To identify as a nomadic subject is a choice to live in, and to cultivate living in, constant transition, circulation, movement, and not take on any racial, ethnic or national identity as permanently fi xed. My “mixed race” status is sometimes the most discordant position one can have in terms of not being wholly welcome and at home in any racial, national, ethnic or cultural group, potentially being seen by every such group as a suspect “Other,” sometimes even as a corporeal proof of unnatural border-crossing and miscegenation. But being in close proximity to both “black” and white,” the “mixed race” position also often places me in a grey area in racialized hierarchies, and allows me to sometimes pass if not as wholly white at least part white and Swedish. What is more, it gives me the relative freedom of being able to move between different racial and ethnic positions and at least partly see things from the perspectives of being “black,” “white,” “Swedish,” “immigrant,” and so on. This predicament comes with its own stressors, privileges, freedoms and responsibilities. Identifying myself as a nomadic subject is my way of not losing sight of the categories and places that I move between—whether voluntarily or not. The difficulties in writing this text have sometimes been overwhelming, and it deserves some fi nal reflexive thoughts. Not only has it been painful to reminisce and ponder the racism that I have encountered in my life, but also to understand how racist logic has put shackles on the very language and conceptual thought that makes us human. It has been an existential challenge to shift from seeing myself as a non-white and/or non-black subject, defi ned by negations, to a more positive identification as a “nomadic subject.” To translate the absence of race as a social category in Sweden— which in turn makes “mixed race” subjectivity nearly impossible—into an internationally comprehensible meaning has been a challenge. Words have eluded me, incessantly moved, shifted meaning, and I have struggled with the responsibility of what words and categories do to people—again, not least, nomadic subjects. We cannot allow ourselves to settle down or wait for a place to be given to us. Rather we need to claim space as nomadic subjects, find allies and make room for transitions. NOTES 1. Statistiska centralbyrån, “Födda i Sverige—ändå olika: Betydelsen av föräldrarnas födelseland,” Demografi ska rapporter No. 2 (2010).

160

Anna Adeniji

2. Tobias Hübinette, “Den osynliga generationen,” Invandrare & Minoriteter No. 4 (2010). 3. Cecilia Gärding, ed., Afrosvensk i det nya Sverige (Malmö: Afrosvenskarnas riksförbund, 2009); Kolade Stephens, ed., Afrikansksvenska röster: en antologi om afrikansksvenskars situation i, och tankar om, Sverige (Malmö: Notis, 2009). 4. Especially when compared to the historically smooth integration of, say, the French, German and English immigrants. Today Samis, Romas and Jews are the only minority groups whose language and culture are protected by Swedish law. A discussion about these minority groups would also be interesting from a critical whiteness studies perspective. Who is considered to be “white” exactly? 5. See e.g. Tobias Hübinette and Carina Tigerwall, “Being Non-White in a Color Blind Society,” Journal of Intercultural Studies 30 (2009). Some thoughts on this also in Ylva Habel, “Whiteness Swedish style,” in Afrikansksvenska roster: En antologi om afrikansksvenskars situation i, och tankar om, Sverige, ed. Kolade Stephens (Malmö: Notis, 2009). 6. Sara Ahmed, “A Phenomenology of Whiteness,” Feminist Theory 8 (2007): 156. 7. Integrationsverket, Rapport integration 2005 (Norrköping: Integrationsverket, 2006), Roger Andersson, Åsa Bråmå, and Emma Holmqvist, “Counteracting Segregation: Swedish Policies and Experiences,” Housing Studies 25 (2010). 8. For instance the British National Party (BNP) in Great Britain, Freiheitliche Partei Österreichs (FPÖ) in Austria, Dansk Folkeparti in Denmark, Front National in France and Fremskrittspartiet in Norway. What they all have in common is the restriction of immigration and their outspoken racist and islamophobic rhetoric. 9. It is likely not a coincidence that these racist parties gained power in elections that took place after a period of fi nancial crises: the global fi nancial crisis in 2008–2009 and the national economic crises around 1990. In the beginning of the 1990s, the unemployment rates were skyrocketing. As we have learnt from history this is fertile soil for xenophobia and racism. 10. Gellert Tamas, Lasermannen (Stockholm: Ordfront, 2002). 11. The State Institute for Racial Biology was independent until 1958, when it changed directions, management and name to the Institute for Genetic Medicine, as a department of the University of Uppsala. 12. North and South was created by David L. Wolper and was fi rst aired in 1985. It was based on the novels by John Jakes. 13. Cf. Paulina de los Reyes, Irene Molina, and Diana Mulinari, eds., Maktens (o)lika förklädnader: kön, klass & etnicitet i det postkoloniala Sverige (Stockholm: Atlas, 2005). 14. Cf. Naomi Zach, Race and Mixed Race (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1993) and Sundstrom, “Being Mixed Race.” 15. David Parker and Miri Song, Rethinking “Mixed Race” (Virginia: Pluto Press, 2001). 16. Cf. Lundström 2007. 17. “Welcome to the Betweenship,” retrieved October 31, 2010 from http:// www.mellanforskapet.se/Pages/English/Default.aspx. 18. Rosi Braidotti, Nomadic Subjects: Embodiment and Sexual Difference in Contemporary Feminist Theory (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994). 19. Ibid., 4. 20. Braidotti, Nomadic Subjects, 10.

Searching for Words

161

BIBLIOGRAPHY Ahmed, Sara. “A Phenomenology of Whiteness.” Feminist Theory 8 (2007): 149–168. Andersson, Roger, Åsa Bråmå, and Emma Holmqvist. “Counteracting Segregation: Swedish Policies and Experiences.” Housing Studies 25 (2010): 237–256. Braidotti, Rosi. Nomadic Subjects: Embodiment and Sexual Difference in Contemporary Feminist Theory. New York: Columbia University Press, 1994. de los Reyes, Paulina, Irene Molina, and Diana Mulinari, eds. Maktens (o)lika förklädnader: kön, klass & etnicitet i det postkoloniala Sverige. Stockholm: Atlas, 2005. Gärding, Cecilia, ed. Afrosvensk i det nya Sverige. Malmö: Afrosvenskarnas riksförbund, 2009. Habel, Ylva. “Whiteness Swedish Style.” In Afrikansksvenska röster: En antologi om afrikansksvenskars situation i, och tankar om, Sverige, edited by Kolade Stephens, 90–119. Malmö: Notis, 2009. Hübinette, Tobias. “Den osynliga generationen.” Invandrare & Minoriteter 37 (2010): 17–20. Hübinette, Tobias, and Carina Tigervall. “To Be Non-White in a Colour-Blind Society: Conversations with Adoptees and Adoptive Parents in Sweden on Everyday Racism.” Journal of Intercultural Studies 30 (2009): 335–353. Integrationsverket. Rapport integration 2005. Norrköping: Integrationsverket, 2006. Lundström, Catrin. Svenska latinas. Ras, klass och kön i svenskhetens geografi. Göteborg: Makadam, 2007. Parker, David, and Miri Song, eds. Rethinking “Mixed Race.” London and Sterling, VA: Pluto Press, 2001. Statistiska centralbyrån. “Födda i Sverige—ändå olika: Betydelsen av föräldrarnas födelseland.” Demografi ska rapporter No. 2 (2010). Stephens, Kolade, ed. Afrikansksvenska röster: En antologi om afrikansksvenskars situation i, och tankar om, Sverige. Malmö: Notis, 2009. Sundstrom, Ronald. “Being and Being Mixed Race.” Social Theory and Practice 27 (2001): 285–307.

7

Bertrand Besigye’s Civilization Critique An Aesthetics of Blackness in Norway* Helena Karlsson The commitment to being recognized as a black European proclaimed here is hopefully part of a larger transition that may take us beyond racialized and racializable categories of all kinds. —Paul Gilroy

Sometime in 1993 at the Theaterkaféen in Oslo, a popular venue for cultural events, four young men announced their newly formed anarchist artist collective den nye vinen (The New Wine). Soon, the photographer Per Heimly, the writers Ari Behn and Bertrand Besigye, and the student Henning Braathen became something of a rebel group in Norway’s artistic and literary world. Challenging the Norwegian cultural elite, its middleclass values and the so-called Jante-law,1 they promoted themselves as new visionary Bohemians, calling for a much needed cultural renaissance. Besigye describes this event in one of his poetry collections, how he read a text by Proudhon from the balcony, and then was thrown out by bouncers together with his friends. What stands out in this manifestation—as well as in Besigye’s literary production as a whole—is that a Norwegian of African descent presents himself as part of the solution to Norway’s cultural stagnation. This essay explores how the cultural critique of Besigye’s literary work is informed by his African identity and experiences as a black man in a white Nordic society. Besigye and his family migrated from Uganda to northern Norway in 1978. He later moved to Oslo. In 1993 he published his fi rst collection of poetry, Og du dør så langsomt at du tror du lever (And You Die So Slowly that You Think You Are Alive), which became an immediate success. A decade later, in 2003, he published the collection, Krystallisert sollys (Chrystallized Sunlight), and the following year a novel, Swastikastjernen (The Swastika Star). His most recent volume, Og solen tilber ingen andre Guder enn sin egen styrke (And the Sun Worships No Other Gods than Its Own Power), was published in 2010. 2 Besigye’s work has been received mostly in modernist aesthetic terms and in the context of a Norwegian literary tradition. Few have considered the significance of Besigye’s race and transnational background or the resemblance of his poetry to that of other black writers. For example, his publisher markets Besigye as a modernist—“a Norwegian Walt Whitman”—and the literary critic Hadle Oftedal Andersen places Besigye at the margins of the

Bertrand Besigye’s Civilization Critique

163

Norwegian literary world, identifying his poetry as “maximum poetry” (Maximumlyrik), as opposed to contemporary Norwegian poetry a la Tor Ulven, which he calls “anorexic minimalism.”3 Oftedal Andersen also compares Besigye’s poetic temperament to Henrik Wergeland, a marginal 19thcentury Scandinavian poet, who was heavily influenced by vitalism, and Michael Strunge, a Danish poet of the 1980s punk generation. In contrast, Besigye has maintained the critical importance of his racial and cultural difference to his literary activity and his marginal position within the Norwegian literary world. After the publication of his fi rst collection he said: When you are Norwegian, you take your identity for granted. But if you are of a different skin color and live in a society as homogenous as Norway, it is different. You realize you have to create your identity, build it yourself. This acknowledgement is one of the reasons behind my collection of poetry. By writing, I have given myself an identity.4 Besigye insists that his untraditional texts have a different flair from most contemporary Norwegian poetry. “Maybe [I] fill that need for poets who have something to say,” he says in another interview, “who dare to use feelings and colors. [I am] not afraid of the banal or the highstrung.” He also attributes his own style and poetic energy to something other than or outside “the Norwegian.” “Outside Norway,” he says, “to the south in Europe, the exaggerated, the theatrical, the expressive, is not something inferior.”5 In his work Besigye performs a marginal identity against the traditional Norwegian toned-down idea of cultural engagement that easily contributes to inertia and inhibits a culture from renewal and redefi nition. Not surprisingly, Besigye’s texts reveal interesting connections to literary traditions and cultural sensibilities other than the ones mentioned by Hadle Oftedal Andersen and others. As a counter-force to cultural stagnation, Besigye articulates a race-informed civilization critique by connecting to 20th century black traditions and literary themes, revisiting their revolutionary potential in a contemporary Nordic context. With a language that is both visionary and ironic, Besigye reappropriates ideas of Africanness and blackness as catalysts for a political, cultural and spiritual renewal of Nordic society.

AGAINST RACISM Besigye’s texts are multifaceted. As a reader one is struck by the many registers of his voice and the eclectic mix of topics in his poetry. Conjunctions of topics include city and nature, sex and murder, racism and strip clubs, skating and hopelessness. This thematic variety is brought together by a joyful and freedom-seeking voice that calls for greater cultural openness

164 Helena Karlsson and accessibility, for freedom from conventions, for racial equality, for a society free from exploitation, overconsumption, self-indulgence, and for reconnection with a wider cosmos. In order to understand this call and the way race factors into it, one needs to situate the themes of Besigye’s poetry in a specifically Norwegian context. Until recently, the Nordic countries have been perceived as comparatively innocent regarding colonialism and 20th-century racism, constructed as a vanguard of civility and an idyllic periphery of a more guilt-ridden continental Europe. Accordingly, public debates of racism and racial identifications are all too often seen as irrelevant or inappropriate.6 As Marianne Gullestad has pointed out, while instances of racism are seldom discussed in Norwegian public life and denials of racism are openly expressed, the image of Norway perpetuated globally is an image of colonial innocence. This image is boosted by data proving that Norway spends more money per capita on foreign aid than any other industrialized country, its history of outspoken support for the civil rights movement in the U.S. and the ANC in South Africa, and its contemporary peace negotiations in many parts of the world.7 Besigye is one of an increasing number of Nordic writers of a foreign background who openly challenge this image of moral righteousness. Characteristic of Besigye’s poems about racism is his biting irony of a provincial, culturally narcissistic Norway, indifferent to the problems of the wider world as well as to the racism within its borders. In the satirical poem “I håpløsheten har jeg det bedre” (I Am Better Off in Hopelessness), the speaker describes such a society and his own struggles with cynicism, resentment and disillusionment: Sometimes I see us all / carry the indifference through the crowds of people / like a bulletproof vest—discomfort / Jaywalkers wagging their asses like ducks / who shout “Nigger! Nigger! Nigger!”—discomfort / TV-preachers’ onion-induced tears / and hush- hush- attitudes / towards all subjects that are taboo—discomfort / Neo-nazi rednecks8 who declare it their dream / “to shove the nasal bone up into the brain / of every fucking darkie” / swastika-grim, with just as much common sense / in their heads as a blackfly / who threaten me with a knife, make menacing phone calls / shouting “Sieg Heil!” with their / limp-dickshowling-angst / discomfort!9 The poem tells the story of a person of color who reflects on the hardships of life and admits to a momentary death-wish. The reiteration of the word “discomfort” in different social contexts emphasizes the Norwegian city as a multipronged source of distress, especially for people of color. The poem also expresses disillusionment with the collective silence about racism and with a superficial community that fails to engage important subjects because they are taboo. While there is a sense of despondency in the poem,

Bertrand Besigye’s Civilization Critique

165

the satire on the agents of racism creates an ironic distance. In particular the emasculation of the neo-Nazis in the poem suggests their weakness and powerlessness, rather than control, over their victims. The speaker ridicules the agents of racism and thereby asserts himself. Hopelessness is even transformed into delight, at least momentarily, by the positive experience of presence—as if the only meaning of life is feeling alive. Negative powers, although not clearly defeated, are confronted with affi rmative energy: Through laughter / heavy thoughts vanish into thin air! / Come umbrella-twisting wind! / Undo the bow of protection I carry above my head and in my soul / come rain-whipped wind, send the angel of presence through my senses, smooth the wrinkles on my brooding forehead.10 Reminiscent of W. E. B. Du Bois’ depiction of living one’s life as a black person behind the veil of race, or living one’s life as a black person as Ralphs Ellison’s “invisible man,” the poem “Rasist, jeg tar imot deg!” (Racist, I embrace you) cuts to the psychological core of racism. The speaker of the poem addresses the racist directly, in a mocking tone, challenging the racist to acknowledge the real source of his or her hatred. The entire poem reads: Racist, I embrace you if you really hate, and are not just a blind slave to your prejudice, if you really hate me then you also have to see me if you deeply and sincerely hate all other races and not just hate for the sake of hating or for the sake of those who think like you, because you are bored or because you are afraid of everything foreign which seems to threaten your comfortable indolence if you clearly raise yourself above such banal reasons if you would have given me your hate as wholeheartedly even if there had not been a single darkie in this country if you expose yourself in your hate if you devote all your time and energy to hatred and hate me endlessly all the time with every cell in your body And not because you are looking for a scapegoat someone you can blame for your shame, a toilet seat for your soul! But for my sake, for the sake of my race racist, I embrace you, I kiss you! If you take on all the hate of all the other racists and crucify yourself with hate, if only the sight of brown, yellow and red makes you so sick that you have to be taken instantly to the hospital, if you are willing to gouge out your eyes just to avoid seeing more darkies

166 Helena Karlsson if you are willing to sacrifice your mother your father your sister your brother just to be able to cultivate your hate full-time without any restrictions if your hate is completely cleansed of desire for personal gain, if you would sacrifice everything, give everything just in order to raise the cathedral of hate in your self in order to bathe your senses in the clear waters of rage If you are willing to take your life only to avoid something so degrading as having to live on the same planet as these damned darkies! Then, dear racist, I embrace you then I will be your volunteer. 11

It belongs to the paradox of racism that its object is a fiction. Racism denies the fundamental humanity of a group of people by reducing them to certain inherent qualities and then inflating and distorting them as to appear inferior, even subhuman. Besigye effectively plays with this dynamic and uses the recurring conditional “if” to ironize about what could have been grounds for a hatred whose object was real. The poem’s ironic exhortation to the racist to be a pure racist and to hate another race purely, is ultimately an ironic comment about the impossibility of such hatred. The biting paradox is that for the hatred of a person to truly be about the person, the person must be seen for who he or she is, which in turn would make the racism impossible. To hate the other for racial reasons is not to see the other, emphasized by the reference to the racist’s blindness: “if you really hate, and are not just a blind slave to your prejudice, if you really hate me, then you also have to see me.” Besigye points to the banal evil and absurdity of racism. However detrimental racism is to its victims, the poem disarms it by disavowing the racist qua racist of any integrity. The true reasons for racism are identified as fear, boredom, insecurity, desire, personal gain, anxiety, laziness, comfort and self-indulgence. The increasingly absurd criteria for the full acceptance of the racist by its victim—the gouging out of one’s eyes, the sacrifice of one’s family, suicide—enhance the ironic effect of the poem. Following an internal logic, the trajectory of the poem ends in an apocalypse. From “a single darkie,” to “more darkies,” to “damned darkies,” the imagery builds towards “a cathedral of hatred” that eventually implodes. The fictionalizing, dehumanizing and inevitably destructive nature of racism is further brought out in the poem “Den Blåsvarte Dansdronningen” (The Blueblack Dancing Queen). Here, Besigye exaggerates stereotypes to emphasize the dehumanizing effects of racism. Besigye tells the story of an African woman, who dances passionately in a nightclub and afterwards is raped. The racism and eventually violence of the perpetrators

Bertrand Besigye’s Civilization Critique

167

are products of a projection resulting in both an envy of, and a desire for, the black woman’s vitality. Besigye describes this through the lens of stereotyping and exaggerated representations of African vitality: The whole of Africa was running through her limbs / The whole of Africa was breathing through her pores / The whole of Africa condensed in her feet. / The whole of Africa turned inside a woman’s body / Raw, as the lionesses on the Serengeti / Turn softly during their afternoon rest. [ . . . ] The Congo and Timbuktu unfolding / In her arm movements! The Nile rushing in her footsteps! / Her entire body had become a drum. / A black flame . . . 12 Characteristically, Besigye’s use of stereotypes in this poem is complex. On the one hand, one could read it as a straightforward celebration of “Africanness.” On the other hand, this “Africanness” is told with irony, through the eyes of white Norwegians who eventually degrade and violate the woman. As the poem goes on, the sensuality of the dancing woman—her “dangerous hip-movements and sparkling eyes”—instill both fear and admiration. Gradually, the men are overcome by desire and envy for her sensuality, vitality, and sense of rhythm—“She was so blue-black and so strong / In her hyper-African charm.” The white “country-girls” are described as interpreting the black woman’s dance as “a demonstration of black power,” “a war of the races,” and are overcome by hatred and envy. They have “never seen anything so black before” and are “overpowered with dizziness by the sight,” tortured by sensual and rhythmic inferiority.13 In the poem, the black African is construed as exotically vital and sensual as opposed to the sedentary and intellectual white European. Here it would be too easy to simply dismiss Besigye’s portrayal of black and white, as the critic Farten Horgar does, with the affirmation that, “Africans were not born to a drum solo and do not dance better than everyone else.”14 Such an affi rmation underplays the complex roles of stereotypes respectively in racism, contemporary Norwegian society and Besigye’s particular brand of anti-racism. When asked in an interview what it means to be “African,” Besigye speaks of being an African in both transnational and transracial terms. “An African,” he argues, “is a person who absorbs many ways of life, who fi nds himself at home everywhere.” He also maintains that he has met “white people who are more African than Africans” and “Africans who are whiter than white people.”15 While Besigye in a poem such as “Den Blåsvarte Dansdronningen” (The Blueblack Dancing Queen) describes the centrality of stereotypes to racialized relations and in his poetry often recycles stereotypes as an anti-racist statement, he ultimately envisons an African identity—and implicitly a Norwegian identity too—that cannot be reduced to a geographical place, ethnicity or skin color.

168

Helena Karlsson

Besigye demonstrates the paradoxical desires of the nationally and ethnically bound subject (the white Norwegian), who is on the one hand fascinated with exotic difference and on the other not capable of embracing this difference by any other means than violence. The dance floor becomes a metaphor for a divided multicultural Norway, where racial markers obstruct identification and hinder a truly transnational and transracial community from emerging. The poem echoes the experience of violence alluded to in other poems, for example dark men barred from nightclubs in Oslo and a vandalized Pakistani store in the middle of Oslo. In envisioning how a transnational, transracial community can come into existence, Besigye emphasizes the affi rmative energy required of those who resist oppression. In “Lugg dette håret svart som synd!” (Pull this hair black as sin!), Besigye powerfully defends a person’s dignity against racist groups and other destructive social actors: All race-haters, truth-haters / All endlessly irritated about everything and nothing / All eternally vengeful drunkards and other danger-zone roamers / All soul-cannibalistic psychiatrists, and men in power / pull this hair black as sin / I will still rise / pinch this cheek, fleshy of smiles / I will still rise / Strangle this neck, slender and young / and break this leg, long and brown / I will still rise / take this hand tired of being a hand / these seeking eyes / this sleep soon recovered / take this shelter of optimism / thrown in from the coldness of the world [ . . . ] and consume it / I will still rise! / and come, trust in the future / rest in this head / come, hope / tighten yourself in this fist . . . 16 Probably inspired by the poem “And Still I Rise” (1978) by the AfricanAmerican poet Maya Angelou, the speaker is at once a resilient and humorous subject. Similar to Angelou’s poem, Besigye repeats the lines “I will still rise” as a call for the assertiveness and pride of black people. The black person rises from his or her disadvantaged position in history by means of a characteristically “black” life-affi rming energy. By addressing those “who roam about in danger zones” in order to “consume” the other, Besigye contrasts this life-affi rming ability with the nihilistic gloom of the privileged. The context is the contemporary consumersociety where minorities become interesting and valuable by virtue of their ethnic and racial difference, or where the cultural forms of minority groups—perhaps especially black—are appropriated because of their consumption value. bell hooks calls this phenomenon “the commodification of difference,” in which a white or privileged majority in its “longing for pleasure” (and knowledge) seeks transgressive contact with the dark other.17 Besigye’s answer to both oppression and appropriation is, like in Angelou’s poem, the transformative potential of optimism, humor, sensuality and joyousness.18

Bertrand Besigye’s Civilization Critique

169

AGAINST AN ALIENATING NORWEGIANNESS Central to literary movements in the 20th century such as the Harlem Renaissance, Négritude and the Black Arts Movement was a defiance of the white bourgeoisie and its aesthetic traditions. These movements disavowed assimilation, sought to re-establish meaningful ties to Africa and redefi ne Africanness in a Western context. On different sides of the Atlantic, Langston Hughes, Léopold Sedar Senghor, Aimé Césaire, and Luis Palés Matos defi ned the transatlantic black experience, marked both by the negative experience of racism and a positive vision of cultural, spiritual and aesthetic values other than those associated with white Europeans. Whether based in Paris, New York or San Juan, the redefinition of black experience became part of a project of creating “a new race spirit,”19 an expression of a new black self-consciousness and confidence. While the more radical artists within these movements sought to articulate an entirely new aesthetics and ethics apart from the white world’s ideas, others aimed at cultural métissage, a creative hybridization of white and black cultures. Regardless of the differently projected goals, the impulse was the same, namely to defend black cultures and identities against the onslaught of an alienating white capitalist society which was oppressive and condescending towards nonEuropean, perhaps especially African, cultures and identities. In texts that theorize métissage—such as the 1927 essay “The Art of the White Race” by the Puerto Rican writer Luis Palés Matos—black culture is defi ned as a renewing alternative to a hegemonic white culture cut off from its basic spiritual needs and communion with corporeal existence, other human beings and nature. Matos identifies the cerebralism of white society and its aesthetics and counterposes black culture to it as a culture of “blood and instinct that carries with it the thousands of years of experience of the species.”20 Besigye gives a flamboyantly ironic twist to this racially informed critique of modernity and to the invigorating power of “black culture.” While the racial discourse is explicit in the poems about racism above, in many others, it is implicit. The uniqueness of Besigye’s critique of the Nordic rationalistic welfare state vis-à-vis other Nordic civilization critiques lies precisely in the fact that his texts revive the deeply democratic impulses of black liberation struggles of the 20th century, while they at the same time are grounded in a late 20th- and early 21st-century Norwegian political and cultural context. His poem “Gipsplater” (Plasterboards) reads: So many faces in the subway are dead-pan and pale-grey As Plasterboards. And all thought habits in their heads are square Like Plasterboards. And they can’t stand being stared at, for they are fragile and porous Like Plasterboards. And if you stare right into their eyes, you only see a grey compact mass in there without any streak of light,

170 Helena Karlsson something as static As Plasterboards. And they weigh heavily upon one another with their faces pale as death, as if they were piled on top of one another, in bundles high, Like Plasterboards. And when you try to speak to them, it is like talking to a wall, a wall Of Plasterboards.21 Besigye’s depiction of a gathering of existentially alienated and same-looking (prikk like) plasterboard people is reminiscent of modernist critiques of rationality and industrialized consumer culture. Again, though, the emphasis on the paleness of the Plasterboard people suggests a slightly different angle. It points not only to the vulnerable spots of an affluent but culturally stagnant and isolated Norway but also to its limited degree of diversity. The poem’s perspective belongs to an outsider—most likely an ethnic (perhaps black) outsider—feeling estranged to the insider culture. Significant are words like død (death), grå (grey), and tørr (dry), suggesting a world lacking not only vitality but also humane and open relations to its others, and whose implicit alternative is a more spontaneous, joyful, intuitive, and sensual blackness. The provocative voice is playful, however, taking with a grain of salt its own redemptive power, only indirectly suggesting an alternative to the Plasterboard existence. Images of the existentially alienated, consumption-oriented and socially controlled are juxtaposed with an invigorating alternative in several other poems. “Jeg, pyramiden” (I, the Pyramid) associates the masses with the Jante-law and describes their world as the “thought tyranny of the decent,” whose subjects are “half dead of emptiness” and “excuse themselves for living.” The narrator resists by willing a heightened sense of presence and sensual relationship to his or her surroundings. In other poems, Besigye extends his satire to the young and their consumer-culture-induced inertia. In the poem “De unge døde” (The Young Dead), he writes: Have you seen The Young Dead? A veil of welfare apathy in their eyes, hidden behind fashionable sunglasses. They are cliques of clucking hens moving from table to table in clubs, and only when a celebrity enters they turn their heads like snakes to see. [...] Have you seen The Young Dead? They are mosquito-swarming youth who live off the shining blue-violet blood from the TV-screens, and the filthy shoddy men from TV talkshows, who blow green-rotten death into their faces through the thick TV-screen . . . [...] Have you seen The Young Dead? [ . . . ] they slide their credit cards through each other’s butt cheeks to pay for the hotline services and sex services and all other services in an existence where all relationships are about buying and selling. 22 This ideals-deprived generation with their “hearts in wheelchairs” and “resigned thoughts that walk on crutches” are the spoiled products of a

Bertrand Besigye’s Civilization Critique

171

welfare society informed by late capitalism’s values. By reiterating the question “Have you seen the young dead?” in each of his twenty-one three-line stanzas, Besigye seeks to emphasize the numbingly repetitive character of their comfortable lives, as if each stanza accounts for its emptiness and repetitiveness. A consumerist ideology has shaped each “young dead” into a carbon copy; there is no originality. Only the last stanzas break the pattern, and a counter-image is suggested—the freedom-seeking warriors who break out of conformity: Have you seen The Young Dead? Is it not ridiculous to call these youth? They don’t see that the Eternal Youth are the Warriors who wave their swords in the sun, proclaiming to be the King and Queen of the golden blade and the eternal triumph over the mediocre. 23 One of Besigye’s techniques is to invent and juxtapose words to satirically construct a specifically Norwegian version of the rational but decadent and spiritually dead western society. Forbrukerførnedelse (consumerhumiliation), fjøsnissementalitet (gnomementality), misunnelsedrift (envydesire), bleiktrøtte (paletired), rutineuniverset (routineuniverse), hudkontakthunger (skincontacthunger), tillhørighetslengsel (belonginglonging) and verlferdsapati (welfareapathy) are employed to humour the curious combination of Norwegian provincialism and late capitalism, including rich West Osloans24 in Hugo Boss suits, breast-implanted jogging blondes and conservative politicians caught in brothels abroad. To further understand how the cultural malaise and antidotes that Besigye’s poems express are related to racial discourse, it is important to relate his critique of Norwegian modernity to his poems about racism. Out of the ashes of the early 20th-century race spirit Besigye articulates a relativized and race-transcending form of vitalism that also affi rms difference and the possibility of a fuller life. The Swedish historian Mikela Lundahl’s reading of Senghor can help us understand the characteristic essentalism-avoiding but difference-centered vitalism of Besigye’s poetry. Lundahl argues that Senghor’s theory of black messianism must be understood not only as a theory of identity but primarily as a theory of complementarity. By promoting values, attitudes, and behaviors that have been held as inferior in Western society, Senghor and Besigye seek a symbolic transformation—an opening up—of this Western society to outside influence. While Besigye may appear to promote stereotypical ideas of white and black identities in some poems, it is important to note that in most poems he does not identify ethnic or racial contexts, thereby leaving identities racially and ethnically ambiguous. Besigye’s dynamic view of culture and identity is also demonstrated by his revival of the Nietzschean undercurrent of early 20th-century black renaissance discourse, which functioned as a critique not of white identity per se but of the Western rationalism associated with Western, mostly white, societies. In this sense, Besigye’s civilization critique is more

172 Helena Karlsson congenial to Césaire’s Négritude than Senghor’s. Central to Césaire’s critique was not to propose differing racial characteristics and their relative values but to destabilize infl ated self-perceptions of the West as bearers of civilization, rationality and virtue, and to revert its devaluing of nonWestern—in particular black—peoples and their cultures. One may add, as Albert James Arnold does in Modernism and Négritude, that Aimé Césaire appreciated Nietzsche and even saw in Nietzsche’s Overman a black hero 25 Slavoj Zizek writes that in Also Sprach Zarathustra Nietzsche predicts a Western civilization that, at the end of its history, will have created a culture of mediocrity where people blindly believe they have found their happiness. These “last men,” according to Zizek, are “the same” and apathetic without great passions or commitments. They are unable to break out of their comfort and security and take risks and thus lead humanity forward. “We in the West,” writes Zizek, “are the Last Men, immersed in stupid daily pleasures,”26 with consumption-controlled fantasies of the good life. The welfaring, yet consumption-oriented Norway appears a particularly suitable example of a post-political society—“a world of Last Men.” In Jeg, Pyramiden (I, the Pyramid), Zizek’s critique of contemporary nihilism is the political horizon of Besigye’s “young dead”: a sterile universe gravitating around the injunction to enjoy, awaiting perhaps a laughing black Messiah. The speaker could be the Saviour, a black Overman, looking down upon the decadent white society that has sacrificed its full humanity—its desires, feelings, empathies and joys—for rational order, comfort and mediocrity.

AN-OTHER VISION As indicated, Besigye’s juxtaposition of lifeless and lively worlds could wrongly be understood as a simple minded racial romanticism, according to which whites stereotypically are “ice people” and blacks “sun people.” Besigye’s frequent use of sun and color images can be interpreted as a return to the primitivist idea of the unalienated vitality, sensuality and freedom of black African life, which has the potential of renewing the disconnected Western world of rationality. Moreover, as an African immigrant, Besigye himself represents a contemporary flow of bodies of color, which are easily romanticized as agents of renewal. On the other hand, Besigye’s distancing irony refuses the reader to adopt a wholesale anthropological interpretation. Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri have presented a radical, non-anthropological, view of these immigrating peoples of color, or “new barbarians,” in their book Empire. They defi ne them as a nomadic tribe engendered by the mobility of labor power and migratory movements capable of opposing normalization, creating new bodies and new life: “they destroy with an affi rmative violence and trace new paths of life through their own material existence.”27

Bertrand Besigye’s Civilization Critique

173

For Hardt and Negri, métissage (as in ethnic or racial mixture) is an empty gesture, unable to challenge power. Similarly, a vitalism that merely draws on Besigye’s racial identity can be regarded ironically, along with Stuart Hall, as a superficial way of styling one’s way into the hegemonic culture: For the fi rst time being black and Asian is a way of being British. It is also sexy, and cool—all things that the Puritan English culture has both reviled and desired. In London especially, young blacks and Asians have turned marginality into a creative life force. They have styled their way into British culture—which is not hard because it was very unstylish. They have made it their own. 28 Even if Besigye, too, turns marginality into a life force, he evokes a transformation more profound than métissage and ultimately aims at transcending racial and ethnic contrast. If he construes himself as a black Messiah, his blackness is not antagonistic but inclusive. In most of his poems, he plays with posing “difference” against homogeneity, energy against stagnation, and puts forth those qualities he deems missing or at least underrepresented or undervalued in Norwegian mainstream culture, such as extroversion, expressivity, fearlessness, spirituality and generosity. It is true that these are the qualities that ethnic and racial others still often come to represent, as objects of desire, in dominant white discourses. However, in a reappropriated vitalist reading of Besigye, paleness is no longer an identifier of race, but the marker of lack, a similar lack to that of Nietzsche’s “last men.” The “ice people” are not racially and geographically isolated, but represent a symptom of global devitalization, and the “sun people” are those who defy ideological pressure and fi nd a more authentic connection to their surroundings. The ideological source comes from the pressures of global capitalism and the indifferent mentality of a privileged welfare state, prescribing consumerism and the cult of personality along with comfort and security. In the spirit of the early 20th-century European Nietzscheinspired bohemia, Besigye romanticizes the powers of the margin and the dark underworld. However, he reveals that at the center of his aesthetics is not an antagonistic race politics, but a vision of a vital community capable of resisting the ideological pressures of its time and ultimately creating other worlds. Consequently, Besigye’s Africa or blackness is not primarily a skin color. It is a transformative spirit that reopens the subject toward intuition, emotion, creativity, communion and nature. Africa radiates life and reawakens dormant powers. Besigye gestures towards the discourse of Africentrism but relativizes its relation to black bodies. The cover of Krystallisert sollys (2003) shows a white Nordic woman with a red t-shirt and scarf around her wrist stretching her arms towards the blue sky as a representation of this transformative spirit. 29 In the poem “Krystallisert Sollys,” Besigye worships sexuality, fertility and lust for life. He further explores the connection

174

Helena Karlsson

between the human and her surroundings, seeking to invoke vitality in dance, enthusiasm and laughter—to rediscover unalienated sensual experience, communion, a radiant sense of corporeality and presence: And it struck him: The sight radiates from the eyes! The voice radiates from the mouth! The sense of smell radiates from the nose! The sense of hearing radiates from the ears. The sense of taste radiates from the tongue. The sense of touch radiates from every single nerve! My own being is one of radiation! I am crystallized sunlight!”30 The poem “Ildsangerens ankomst” (The Arrival of the Fire-Singer) uses the trope of Africa and the cosmic body to articulate a social commentary. “I have come to inhabit your body,” the speaker proclaims. This speaker is not a Messiah, but the rejuvenation of a political order that no longer understands its ultimate goals: And I will / In a chorus of sunrays radiating from smiles, transform you / Transform you always. So be proud, cry out of joy, for a gigantic yellow squawk of birds will hum through you. / And everything deadstill and lifeless will dance! / I am the fire singer / And I will make you wild with openness, put a fire to your will, your voice, in your eye, in your wishes. I will burn / you right down to your innermost again and again with my Fire song. And the day you are ready for the flame I will give you the words of magic that coax the wind / to whistle a new language so that your fate finds / New sail, for those who change a language change fate [ . . . ]. So don’t push me away, in fear of the health of your soul.31 The purpose of the energizing spirit is to invigorate a collective body characterized as “an ice-cube shut in by its own cold.” The distance to and alienation of the majority culture that Besigye constructs in other poems are here metaphorically bridged by a transformative otherness. It is a violent and thorough transformation, reminiscent of Hardt and Negri’s “affi rmative violence” capable of “tracing new paths of life.” The political dimension of Besigye’s life-affirming position best emerges in his polemical poems that explicitly thematize capitalist exploitation and racism, and, as in some poems, even foresee an apocalyptic self-destruction of humanity. A forceful, almost militant example of this is the poem “Ned i verdens berg” (Down into The Mountain of the World), which places racism in a wider context of a ravaging and self-indulgent civilization: Against all odds we must dance ourselves free / from this deadly, depressing, and humiliating pact / Where we are doomed to live by the ideas / That serve this civilization / Where it is expected that we, without the slightest protest / Give our lives to a civilization / Based on the endless exploitation of other peoples / To a civilization that litters and

Bertrand Besigye’s Civilization Critique

175

consumes and stupefies / That does not know where it is going or what it wants / That without any interest in any alternatives / With great confidence works toward the destruction of humanity. 32 Key to this poem is a characteristic compassion for both victims and perpetrators, for cut-down trees and woodcutters, tortured animals and meateaters, the homeless and the mortgage companies, the sad, the ugly, the hateful, the drug addicts, the humiliated, the raped and the rapers. Noteworthy here is the main idea of the poem: that the oppressed dance their way to freedom. In line with themes that may be described as, but not reduced to, “romanticism,” “primitivism” and “vitalism,” the solution to the problem of civilization is described in terms of dance rather than more “reason” or violent revolution. The poem points towards a sense of wholeness, suggesting that humans should strive for identity and oneness with the other, not narcissistic distance or separation. As the poem goes on, the solitary being of civilization dances her or himself “down into a sea of delivery [ . . . ] down to where we no longer view the world and one another with the eyes of our tiny mental concepts but with the light-infused vision of a hundred suns . . .”33 As the title of Besigye’s latest collection of poetry, published in 2010, suggests, Og solen tilber ingen andre Guder enn sin egen styrke (And the Sun Worships No Other Gods than Its Own Power), Besigye continues to infuse Norwegian cultural life with vitality. But he also explores new social and geographical territories, including his autobiographical Uganda. His diasporic position as an Afro-Norwegian appears to be taking a turn to the more socially concrete. In the texts explored in this essay, race matters, but it matters less as a category of identity than as a social, political, and not least poetic category indispensable for 21st century social and political change. NOTES *All translations from the Norwegian are mine. 1. A phrase coined by the Danish writer Aksel Sandemose, the Jante-law refers to the unwritten law of humbleness, often claimed to be something “typically Scandinavian.” According to Sandemose, this code, which prescribes that people should be humble and not arrogant, reserved and not extravagant, conventional and not eccentric, served to preserve social stability and conformity in small rural communities. 2. This article deals with Besigye’s fi rst two collections of poetry. 3. Tor Ulven (1953–1995) was a highly acclaimed and influential Norwegian poet in the 1980s and 1990s. His poetry is often considered formally as a cryptic modernism characterized by the sentiments of existential pessimism. 4. Erle Moestue Bugge, “Refser velferdsapati—fordømmer ingen,” Aftenposten, August 18, 1993, 16. 5. Mona Levin, “Å dikte det er å leve . . . ,” Aftenposten, October 20, 1993, 18. 6. Michael McEachrane and Louis Faye point to the paradox of the open and closed welfare state in a book titled Sverige och de Andra (Sweden and the

176 Helena Karlsson

7. 8.

9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

18.

19.

Others), a paradox easily applicable to all the Nordic welfare states. Since the Second World War, they write, Sweden has defi ned itself as an anti-imperialist and solidaristic nation. Yet, it is increasingly obvious that global solidarity does not automatically imply an everyday culture open to immigrants. One of the obstacles for immigrants and their children in Sweden, they claim, is that Swedishness is still largely ethnically defi ned: to be “Swedish” is not only to be European, modern, and secular, but also to be “white.” Michael McEachrane and Louis Faye, eds., Sverige och de Andra: Postkoloniala perspektiv (Falun: Natur och Kultur, 2001), 9. Marianne Gullestad, “Blind Slaves of Our Prejudices: Debating ‘Culture’ and ‘Race’ in Norway,” Ethnos 69, no. 2 (June 2004): 177–203. This is a free translation of the Norwegian word “gokk.” According to Ingeborg Kongslien, this word appears to originate from the expression “langt borti gokk,” which means “far out in the province.” The noun “gokk” would then potentially have the association of a provincial, unsophisticated, and uncouth person, similar to the word “redneck” in American English. Ibid., 45. Ibid., 45. Besigye, Og du dør så langsomt at du tror du lever (Oslo: Gyldendal, 1993), 61. Besigye, Krystallisert sollys (Oslo: Aschehoug, 2003), 32–33. Ibid., 32–33. Farten Horgar, “Den nye vins martyrer,” Adresseavisen, February 27, 2003, 20. Sigmund Sørensen, “Nattas Ridder,” Dagbladet Magasinet, April 7, 2003: retrieved March 17, 2007 from http://www.dagbladet.no/ magasinet/2003/04/07/365759.html. Besigye, Og du dør, 39. bell hooks, Black Looks: Race and Representation (Boston: South End Press, 1992), 30–31. hooks argues that this “commodification of difference” represents a disguised, yet common, form of violence against the other. bell hooks, who writes primarily about U.S. racial relations, also calls this type of colonizing “eating the other.” She contends that the resurgence of black nationalism and black essentialism is a response to the invasion and violation of black culture. hooks writes: “black nationalism surfaces most strongly when cultural appropriation of black culture threatens to decontextualize and thereby erase knowledge of the specific historical and social context of black experience from which cultural productions and distinct black styles emerge” (30). Maya Angelou, “Still I Rise,” The Collected Works of Maya Angelou (New York: Random House, 1994), 163–164. Angelou writes: You may write me down in history / With your bitter, twisted lies, / You may trod me in the very dirt / But still, like dust, I rise. [ . . . ] Does my sassiness upset you? / Why are you beset with gloom? / ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells / Pumping in my living room. [ . . . ] Did you want to see me broken? / Bowed head and lowered eyes? / Shoulders falling down like teardrops, / weakened by my soulful cries? [ . . . ] Out of the huts of history’s shame / I rise / Up from the past that’s rooted in pain / I rise / I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide, / Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear / I rise / Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear / I rise / Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, / I am the dream and the hope of a slave. / I rise / I rise / I rise.” A phrase coined by Alain Locke in his book The New Negro (1925).

Bertrand Besigye’s Civilization Critique

177

20. G. R. Coulthardt, Race and Color in Caribbean Literature (London: Oxford University Press for Race Relations, 1962), 30–31. 21. Besigye, Krystallisert, 85. 22. Ibid., 89–90. 23. Ibid., 91. 24. The division between East and West Oslo is a division marking the traditionally working-class, now more multicultural eastern Oslo and the more affluent, upperclass areas of western Oslo. 25. James Arnold, Modernism and Negritude (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1982), 53. 26. Slavoj Zizek, Violence (New York: Picador, 2008), 29. 27. Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, Empire (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000), 215. 28. Yasemin Alibhai-Brown, “A Magic Carpet of Cultures in London,” The New York Times, June 25, 2000, Sec. 2, 32. 29. Besigye (seriously, provocatively or ironically), wears the scarf as well, as a sign of vitality, lust for life and transformative power. 30. Besigye, Krystallisert, 36. 31. Besigye, Og du dør, 78–79. 32. Ibid., 55. 33. Ibid., 56.

8

Two Poems by Bertrand Besigye Bertrand Besigye (Translated by John Irons)

HOW A BLACK AFRICAN ORDERS BLACK COFFEE

(To Barack Hussein Obama) To find out exactly how tolerated I am in this society, I went to a coffee bar, walked up to the counter And said to the bar-tender: “I’d like a coffee, and I challenge you To find a coffee that matches the colour of my skin.” Without hesitating, the bar-tender immediately served me a Caffè Mocha with cream . . . “Wrong!” I said to the bar-tender, “Surely you can see I’m darker than a Caffè Mocha with cream!” “Yes, I can see that,” the bar-tender replied, “but I didn’t want to take the chance Of serving you something too dark or too light in case you might feel offended . . .” “Aha,” I said, paid for the coffee and left without drinking it. At coffee bar no. 2, I walked up to the counter And said to the bar-tender: “I’d like a coffee, and I challenge you To find a coffee that matches the colour of my skin.” “What? Do you think we’re racists or something?” the bartender exclaimed, “Here we serve blacks and whites and yellows and reds and greens! Don’t mess me about! I’m a bar-tender on a minimum wage. Don’t mess me about.” The bar-tender served me a Caffè Latte, As if by serving me a light type of coffee He was making doubly sure of avoiding all controversy. I paid for the coffee, and left without drinking it.

Two Poems by Bertrand Besigye At coffee bar no. 3, I walked up to the counter And said to the bar-tender: “I’d like a coffee, and I challenge you To find a coffee that matches the colour of my skin.” “That was a weird way of or-dering co-ffee . . .” The Swedish bar-tender replied, “But an A-meri-cano should just about do it.” He served me a double Americano, looked down into the cup and said: “Devil also, it’s too black. It’s the co-ffee machine’s fault, not mine!” Shirking responsibility, I thought, it’s as if he was trying to say: “It’s the coffee machine that’s a racist, not me!” I paid for the coffee, drank it and left. At coffee bar no. 4, I walked up to the counter And said to the female bar-tender: “I’d like a coffee, and I challenge you To find a coffee that matches the colour of my skin.” “That would be an Espresso or a filter coffee,” the bar-tender replied And served me an Espresso. “It’s too light! Are you colour-blind or something?” “But I can’t make an Espresso any darker!” the bar-tender replied, “It’s impossible to make it any darker!” she stated, As if I was holding a knife to her neck. As if I had a blackness No coffee machine in the world could emulate. I paid for the coffee, drank it and left. At coffee bar no. 5, I walked up to the counter And said to the bar-tender: “I’d like a coffee, and I challenge you To find a coffee that matches the colour of my skin.” “But all coffees are brown!” the bar-tender exclaimed, “Yes, but some are browner than others and some lighter,” I added. “OK, I’ll get you a double Espresso!” he said and served a double Espresso Which both of us could see was too light. “But does it matter what colour the coffee is?” the bar-tender asked me And added with a strong American accent: “Your skin-color don’t make no difference to me!” “I just happen to think that coffee that matches the colour of my skin tastes better!” I replied with the certainty that the customer is always right.

179

180

Bertrand Besigye The bar-tender turned round quickly and went back to his work, I paid for the coffee, drank it and left. At coffee bar no. 6, I walked up to the counter And said to the bar-tender: “I’d like a coffee, and I challenge you To find a coffee that matches the colour of my skin.” “Well really, that sort of humour is so incorrect That I don’t know how to answer it!” The possibly gay bar-tender said, with a flick of the wrist, “But since you’re such a handsome brute, I’ll get you a single Americano. No, wait, since you’re in such great shape, I’ll get you a double Americano.” I took a single Americano, and goddammit it matched the colour of my skin perfectly. I paid for the coffee, drank it and left. As I was going out the door, the bar-tender said: “You’re the first person to have ordered coffee like that, Next time I’ll have a better answer.” At coffee bar no. 7, I walked up to the counter And said to the bar-tender: “I’d like a coffee, and I challenge you To find a coffee that matches the colour of my skin.” “Then I’ll get you a pot of coffee with a dash of milk. I don’t dare take too much milk, just a little milk . . .” The bar-tender replied with a smile. The pot of coffee plus a dash of milk was too light. “I must try that the next time I go out to a café Just show them my hand when I order coffee!” The bar-tender said. “If you tried that,” I replied, “you’d be served a glass of milk!” “Yes, I’d probably get a glass of milk. Or a glass of water. I’m transparent.” The bar-tender replied and his back sagged suddenly. I paid for the coffee, drank it and left. At coffee bar no. 8, I walked up to the counter And said to the bar-tender: “I’d like a coffee, and I challenge you To find a coffee that matches the colour of my skin.” The bar-tender smiled and asked another bar-tender to deal with my order.

Two Poems by Bertrand Besigye “Just give him an Espresso!” the west-country bar-tender shouted, On his way out for a break and a fag. But that didn’t work at all, for the other bar-tender was from north Norway And wanted for some reason or other to give me extra service: “How’s aboot a drap o’ something in your coffee? How’s aboot a wee dram in your coffee?” The north Norwegian bar-tender replied. “Sure!” I agreed, and was served a Coffee Jamaica with rum. “A bit too light. Should ha’ takken a wee bit less milk, But then it wudna ha’ tasted as good!” the bar-tender concluded. As I was about to pay, the bar-tender said: “Ye dinna ha’ to pay for the coffee, just pay me for the dram.” I paid for the gourmet coffee, drank it and left. At coffee bar no. 9, I walked up to the counter And said to the female bar-tender: “I’d like a coffee, and I challenge you To find a coffee that matches the colour of my skin.” “Then I’ll get you a black coffee!” the blond bar-tender said And served me straight black coffee, without milk or cream. I kept silent. Suddenly a twinge of bad conscience went through her. She stretched out her milky-white arms and exclaimed: “But look at me then! A Café Au Lait for me, please!” It was as if she wanted to say: “Just look at me! I’m just as lost as you even though I’m white!” But I still kept silent. “You’re just having me on!” she blurted out, “Hell, I should have served you my most expensive coffee!” I still kept silent, used the strength of silence, paid and sat down at a table . . . While I was sipping liquid night, the bar-tender asked: “What does it say about me that you got coffee that dark?” I didn’t answer her, but was struck by her self-reflection, Struck that she was the first person to possibly understand That the entire episode was in the process of changing into text. I could have said to her: “You served me coffee that black because inside your head You experience the colour of my skin As a lot darker than it actually is, Because inside your head you experience me as a lot more alien Than I actually am.” But I still kept silent, took out my notebook and started to write How A Black African Orders Black Coffee.

181

182

Bertrand Besigye

YOU CAN’T KEEP A GOOD MAN DOWN. OR BLACK HAIL OVER ALL OF WEST SIDE I met a man from Ethiopia in a bar. A man who treated me to one glass of beer after the other, A man who was out on the town to celebrate. When I asked him why he was so happy, Why he was so generous, Why he was celebrating, he replied: “I’ve lost my job!” “What? You’ve lost your job and you’re celebrating?” Then he told me that he hated his job As a cleaner, that he had washed floors in a firm of lawyers on west side, That when working he was never allowed to look these lawyers in the eye, That he had been given strict instructions to keep his gaze fixed on the floor Every time these lawyers went past in their expensive suits And black briefcases, hurrying down the corridors. He was never to return their looks, He was never to greet them, Just wash and wash with his gaze fixed on the floor. As if he didn’t really have any business to be there. As if he wasn’t to be heard or seen. As if he wasn’t worth more than the mop and wash-bucket he used. As if he was part of all the dirt they wanted removed. Not once had these well-heeled gentlemen Stopped and asked what his name was. Not once had they Stopped and asked how he was doing. Not once had they allowed him to eat lunch In the same canteen as them. Not once. And these lawyers worked on issues To do with right and wrong. One day this Ethiopian dared to look them in the eye. One day this Ethiopian dared to greet them. It was this he wanted to celebrate. That he defied them, that he stood up for his identity, that he stood up for all cleaners, That he stood up for his wife, that he stood up for his son, that he stood up for his daughter, That he met them face to face, as if he wanted to say: “I am!” And that was enough to get him the sack.

Two Poems by Bertrand Besigye That night, after meeting him in the bar, I dreamt that black hail hammered over all of west side. Black hailstones the size of hand grenades. Black hail that smashed skylights. Black hail that dented car roofs. Black hail that tarred balconies. Black hail That filled garden plots. Black hail that coloured the streets with night. Black hail! For this cleaner showed me with all his being: You Can’t Keep A Good Man Down.

183

This page intentionally left blank

Part III

Diaspora

This page intentionally left blank

9

Talking Back Voices from the African Diaspora in Finland Anna Rastas

This essay is a cursory and brief overview of the history and presence of Africans, and people of African descent, in Finland. Drawing on texts written or co-authored by people who have moved from Africa to Finland, the essay explores the discursive climate in which Africans and their descendants have sought to negotiate their belonging to Finnish society. There is arguably no ethnic or other group of any kind without a past1 and people of African descent in Finland need their local histories in order to be recognized as a minority whose presence and experiences should not be ignored. The African diaspora of Finland is a group that obviously contains a great amount of cultural, ethnic, religious and other forms of diversity. Nevertheless, it is still a socially salient group that is likely to face a host of similar issues in Finnish society because of “race” and to gravitate towards identities of “being black.” In projects of writing the local histories of minorities, their own experiences and voices ought to be emphasized. On the whole, I would argue, it is important to include the existence of minorities and their voices and perspectives in the writing of national histories. As anthropologist Liisa Malkki suggests, this is “not to make a simple, romantic argument about ‘giving the people a voice’; for one would fi nd underneath the silence not a voice waiting to be liberated but ever deeper historical layers of silencing and bitter, complicated regional struggles over history and truth.”2 For example, the discourses in which Finland is represented as a welcoming country for African students, or for refugees, are challenged when also the knowledge of these subjects is included in the (future) histories of Finland. Personal narratives in autobiographic texts make appealing data for research on minority communities and their status and positions in society. 3 As Sidonie Smith has argued, by reading them “we fi nd ourselves immersed in complex issues of representation, ideology, history, identity and politics as they bear on subjectivity.”4 Afro-European literary works tell us about the lives and situations of black people and immigrants in Europe, and their diasporic and transnational connections and identifications. Moreover, as feminist epistemologies remind us, social disadvantage often creates epistemic advantage. 5 The experiences of racialized subjects provide us

188

Anna Rastas

with alternatives to majority discourses that, in Finland as well as in many other European countries, can be described as color-blind. Therefore, these texts also give us new perspectives to examine a multiracial, multiethnic, multicultural Europe and the ways in which Western nations today are reimagining themselves.6 Autobiographical texts written by Africans and other people of the African diaspora (or, perhaps, diasporas) in Finland allow us to research both their experiences and many questions related to Finland as a burgeoning multicultural society. In this essay, I will primarily focus on how authors of African background have challenged and disrupted majority discourses about Africans and black people more generally, their presence in Finland, and their relations to majority Finns. In doing this I will borrow bell hook’s concept of talking back. She defi nes talking back as a liberating act whereby oppressed, or otherwise marginalized, minorities move from merely being objects to being subjects by expressing their own perspectives vis-à-vis the power and conceptions of the majority.7 Identifying and making visible such acts of talking back, in which dominant discourses are commented on and resisted, is used here as a method for exploring both the voices from, and the discursive environment surrounding, the African diaspora(s) in Finland.8

“BLACK” IN FINLAND In a general Finnish population of approximately 5.4 million, people of African descent are a visible and rapidly growing minority. The African diaspora in Finland mainly consists of fi rst-generation African immigrants. However, though thousands of Africans have moved to Finland each year during the past decade, people of African descent still constitute a rather recent and small minority when compared to many other European countries. From demographic statistics based on countries of origin, one can surmise that the majority of Africans in Finland arrived in the 1990s and thereafter.9 The largest group is the Somalis, who have arrived as asylum seekers since the end of the 1980s.10 Today there are over 20 000 Africanborn people in Finland. Estimating the numbers of their children born in Finland, or other black immigrants from the diaspora, is difficult since the Finnish census only specifies country of origin, not ethnicity or race. Although, for instance, the remarkable growth in the number of children of mixed parentage can be seen in every schoolyard in the biggest cities, they cannot be found in demographic statistics. Since the minority presence of African descendants still is relatively novel and small, and many of the African immigrants are not accustomed to identifying themselves as “black,” there are as of yet no established words in the Finnish language for collective racialized identities amongst people of African descent in Finland. Immigrants from Africa typically

Talking Back

189

talk of themselves as Finnish Africans or Africans of Finland (“Suomen afrikkalaiset”), or, like the Somalis, by referring to their countries of origin. Somalis’ relationship to blackness as a collective racialized identity is particularly controversial, due, at least in part, to a strong identifi cation with the Islamic and Arab world. Furthermore, in Somalia there are (Islamic Somali-speaking) people who have always confronted discrimination because of their “Bantu” heritage and because of their history of enslavement.11 This topic is usually avoided in discussions between Somalis and majority Finns, but some people of Somali background in Finland have told me that the difficulties in dealing with the history of racial relations in Somalia may be one explanation for their difficulties in embracing black identity. The prefi x “Afro-” is sometimes used by white Finns, but hardly ever by Finns of African descent. Choosing “African” instead of “Afro” is understandable in the case of people who have emigrated from Africa and whose ties to their countries of origin are real and more important to them than their ties to the black diaspora. Furthermore, many black people in Finland do not seem to be comfortable with some of the connotations attached to the prefi x “Afro-.” For children born in Finland of African immigrants, and other African descendants in Finland (including those of mixed parentage) who are born in the diaspora, the international black diaspora is understandably more likely to be important to them as a point of reference and source of identification. However, most of the people in Finland who belong to these groups are still very young. Their social and cultural contributions to the African diaspora in Finland, as well as to the local discourses and vocabularies, are yet to be seen. In considering racialized relations in Finland the word “black” is problematic, especially for children, who are not aware of the positive connotations of the word. In the local discourses the word typically refers to a skin color rather than to collective racialized identities. Children also tend to avoid the term because in the Finnish language the word “musta” (black) has traditionally been used to refer to the Roma minority (“mustalaiset”).12 People from other parts of the diaspora, though, most of whom have moved to Finland from the U.S. or Britain, readily self-identify as “black.” However, they do not necessarily have contacts with the African communities, and many of them, unlike many immigrants from Africa, routinely speak English instead of Finnish. In addition, their numbers are very small. For instance, the total number of people living in Finland from the Caribbean is less than a hundred. The lack of established words referring to racialized relations, and the uncomfortableness with those words that are available—both amongst people of the African diaspora in Finland and among other Finns—conveys the character of the local discourses on issues of “race” and racism. Although there is plenty of evidence that, for example, people of the Roma

190 Anna Rastas minority have faced racism and racialized subordination in Finland for hundreds of years, as a topic of discussion, racism is a rather new phenomenon in Finland. Especially thanks to mass media, also in Finland people are aware of some black Atlantic pop-cultural and intellectual traditions. However, to cherish one’s black identity, and especially to talk about black consciousness in public, is difficult in an environment in which questions related to racism are not openly discussed. This will likely change though. The beginning of a shift can already be seen in the media, in the activities arranged by the associations of Finnish Africans and the other diaspora groups, and in the local youth subcultures in the largest cities. In addition, also in Finland the presidency of Barack Obama has given new positive connotations to the word “musta” (black). What is more, today, unlike in the 1990s, there are several black Finnish celebrities (actors, musicians and other media personalities) which, needless to say, are important to the self-images of young Finns of African descent.13

FINNS’ KNOWLEDGE OF AFRICANS Finns’ ideas about the relations between Finns and black people are largely based on what may be called Finnish (or Nordic) exceptionalism.14 By that I mean a sense of moral superiority that is based on, and maintained by, denials of Finns’ involvement in the history and legacy of European colonialism and slavery. A common sentiment among Finns is that since they never have been colonizers and slave traders themselves, European colonialism and racism do not concern them. It is true that Finns never established any colonies for themselves, and, on the whole, that their involvement in colonial projects seems to have been minor in comparison to many other European countries. However, Finland no doubt benefited from the economic exploitation and world order that was instituted by European colonialism and slavery, while also identifying with its ideology of racial difference, hierarchy, white supremacy and racialized conceptions of us and them.15 A case in point is the depictions of Africans and other black people in Finnish literature. One example of many is the missionary literature of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, which played an important role in shaping Finns’ ideas of Africa, Africans, and encounters between “us” and “them.”16 The Finnish Missionary Society had been founded in 1859, and the fi rst Finnish missionaries arrived in Africa in 1870. For many decades the missionaries in Ovamboland, nowadays Namibia, were mostly Finns. Their writings and descriptions of “heathens” shaped not only Finns’ images of Africans, but also Finns’ ideas of themselves as good Christians with a civilizing mission.17 Descriptions of these earlier encounters between Finns

Talking Back

191

and Africans were told from a Finnish perspective tinged, needless to say, by the cultural zeitgeist of European colonialism. Even today, textual depictions of Africans, and encounters between Africans and Finns, are relatively scarce and often partial and biased in Finnish literature.18 Scholarly texts about Africans in Finland have mostly been about Somalis and focused on the problems of immigrants’ integration into Finnish culture and society. There is no research in Finnish to be found about the other African or black communities in Finland. It is also difficult to fi nd literature about many of the African countries. And in schoolbooks, as well as in other literature for children, age-old stereotypes of Africa and Africans still abound. An analysis of literature for children published in Finnish after 2000 reveals that in children’s books Africans still live in mud huts. Modern cities can be found only in a couple of books. White people in Africa are represented as active agents who are there to help Africans, whereas, for example, black characters in the ABC-books that are currently used in schools often are passive figures whose names are not mentioned. Fair to say, Finnish schoolbooks have not caught up with the changing demographics of Finnish society. In the main, they casually portray immigration as a novel phenomenon and largely ignore the growing presence of people of the African diaspora. In schoolbooks and in public discourse in general, questions of racism, not to mention European colonialism and its consequences, are seen as belonging elsewhere, outside of Finland.

MEMOIRS OF THE ONLY BLACK FINN It is documented that during the 19th century there were some black people of African descent living in a few Finnish towns that now belong to Russia, due to the border changes after World War II. They had been brought there from Africa and the Americas, most often as servants for wealthy Russians.19 However, the earliest known example of black people in Finland, who assert a place in society by “talking back,” is the story of Rosa Clay.20 In 1888 there was a small announcement in a Finnish newspaper, Wiipurin Uutiset: Last Saturday missionary K. A. Weikkolin and his family arrived home from Africa with a mulatto girl, who was born and baptized in Africa.21 The girl mentioned in the newspaper was Rosa Emilia Clay (later Lemberg). As far as we know, she was the fi rst African who was granted Finnish citizenship. She had been born in 1875 as a child of a local Muslim woman and a white British man in an area which is now part of Namibia. Rosa was only two months old when she was taken from her mother and placed in the care of an English couple. Three years later they gave her up

192 Anna Rastas to a Finnish missionary couple, Ida and Karl Weikkolin, who ran a mission school in Ovamboland. When Rosa was eight years old, she was told that her father had given this Finnish couple permission to take her to Finland, so that she could study there and then return someday to work at the Finnish-run missionary station. They left Ovamboland with Rosa and moved back to Finland, where she eventually became a teacher. In 1904 she left Finland, but instead of returning to Africa she moved to the United States. Rosa’s life story was fi rst published in the U.S. in 1942 in Finnish in a book titled Rosalia.22 It was co-written by Rosa and another Finnish immigrant, Arvo Lindewall. The book begins with the chapter “Pages from Rosalia’s Memoirs” which according to Lindewall was written by Rosa alone. The chapter tells about her childhood in Ovamboland and about her fi rst years in Finland. 23 In this chapter, Mrs Weikkolin, who ran the missionary school with her husband, is described as a “mean and heartless” person who “never had a comforting word for her charges.”24 This woman’s cruelty became even more evident for Rosa during the long trip from Africa to Finland. Still, Rosa was excited about everything new that happened to her. In her memoirs she describes her arrival to Finland: When I fi rst caught sight of the Turku archipelago, for some unknown reason I liked the environment. When I saw the mainland, I fell in love with this new homeland far in the north, even though I knew that as an African I would probably face ridicule. 25 Rosa’s worries soon came true: About a week after our arrival in Finland a prayer service and a welcoming event was arranged at the chapel in Turku. [ . . . ] Most people came to see the ‘dark Gipsy’ from Africa, as the newspapers called me. They had advertized my coming, had written for example that I will speak in many different languages.26 Rosa had to collect money for the church by selling pictures of herself and by singing songs in the “Hottentot language” (today better known as Khoisan), which she never knew. She felt ridiculed, and when she tried to hide from people’s stares, Ida Weikkolin slapped her face and told her to obey. For many years she was required to perform at church gatherings in various cities around the country. Rosa has only good memories to tell about Karl Weikkolin, even though he never intervened in his wife’s treatment of Rosa. Rosa writes how her life was much easier and happier when she was allowed to visit and live with Karl Weikkolin’s relatives, who treated her well. For Ida Weikkolin, Rosa was a house servant. Her childhood in Helsinki was hard, not only because of the harshness of Mrs Weikkolin, but also, as summarized in Erickson’s book:

Talking Back

193

Crowds would follow her when she walked down a street shouting all kinds of obscenities, calling her all kinds of malicious and ugly names and pointing their fi ngers at her. 27 Rosa’s memoirs of how she was treated by “good Christian people” in Finland brings to mind the story of Sarah Baartman, a Khoikhoi woman who was brought to London in 1809 and exhibited in freak shows throughout Britain and France. 28 During the summer when I turned thirteen, I suffered shame and mockery more than ever before and more than ever after that. We visited most of the mission gatherings that were organized in different parts of Finland to support missionary work, and in every place there were crowds of people who had come just to stare at me. They had a collection, and people gave a lot of money because they thought that at least some of it will be given to that poorly dressed Negro girl. They totally erred in that. 29 At the end of those pages that were written by Rosa herself, she tells how one day Ida Weikkolin suggested that they should go to church together. That would, according to Ida, help them forget their confrontations. Rosa writes: I absolutely refused. Not because I did not want to forgive her for how badly she had treated me, but because I knew that she had never been a true believer of the Gospel. 30 During this incident, Rosa was still dependent on Ida Weikkolin, but now she was old enough to talk back. She openly questioned the behavior and the motives of her caretaker, who in Rosa’s opinion was a hypocrite, not a “true believer.” Soon after this episode, Rosa moved to a town called Sortavala, where she studied to become a teacher. There her musical talents were noticed. She studied classical music and became the student choir director. She gained a profession, which made her less dependent on other people, especially Ida Weikkolin. After graduation from Sortavala Seminary in 1898, she was accepted as a teacher in Mustinlahti, a tiny town in eastern Finland. In that small locality, she experienced devastating discrimination and rejection because of her color. She could not even leave the school building because of the malice of the local people. She left that place as soon as she could and moved to another city to work as a homeschool teacher. Rosa considered returning to Africa, and the Missionary Society had already approved her return there, but she decided not to go. Certain events had made her question the purpose of missionary activity and question

194

Anna Rastas

“whether she had the strength of Christian beliefs to sustain her in missionary work.”31 Instead of returning to Africa, she moved to the city of Tampere in 1901, where she worked as a teacher for three years. Although she liked her work as a teacher, she was again subjected to cruel racial harassment in public places. During her years in Tampere, Rosa also performed in public events as a singer, and local newspapers praised her beautiful voice.32 While in Tampere, Rosa fell in love with a doctor who had taken care of her when she was ill. They had decided to marry and had even settled on a date for their wedding, when her fiancé suddenly died. After his death, Rosa wished to leave Tampere, where she thought she would never forget the tragedy. Like many Finns in those days she decided to move to the U.S. She never returned to Finland, but had a strong Finnish American identity and became an active member of local Finnish communities. “The only Black Finn,” as she was called by some people, married another Finnish American, Lauri Lemberg, with whom she had two children. Rosa was widely appreciated in the Finnish immigrant communities of several American states as a singer, actress, director, Finnish language teacher and political activist. Her children grew up speaking Finnish, and like Rosa found their spouses from among the Scandinavian immigrant communities. In the U.S. Rosa had to go through the usual difficulties of an immigrant. As many educated Africans in Europe today, who do not know the local language, this educated teacher, who did not know English, had to earn her living as a cleaner. On top of that, moving to the U.S. did not free Rosa from the cruelties of racism. She was often discriminated against because of her color, and she, and especially her children, did everything they could to hide their African roots in order to earn the privileges of passing as white Northern Europeans.33 There are several reasons for us today to ponder the story of Rosa Clay Lemberg. First, it reminds us of the complex transnational colonial and racialized structures that have shaped, and continue to shape, migration. Thereby, it gives us reason to reflect on the historical and continuing racialized conditions (together with the intersections of class, gender, ethnicity, religion, etc.) for migration, the crossing of national borders and negotiating the body politics of nationhood. Secondly, her story serves as an early example of a black Finn who “talks back” and asserts a personal vantage point as a minority in Finnish society. In doing so, she has also given us a historical vantage point from which we can acknowledge and reflect on the experiences of being a black Finn (and a “foreigner” in Finland, more generally). What is more, she has given us an early and remarkable example of the resiliency, flexibility and survival strategies of someone stigmatized as “Other.” Thirdly, her story gives us reason to consider the particularities of Finland’s relation to a colonial worldview and -order. In the dominant discourses of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Finns were good Christians

Talking Back

195

who went to Africa to bring the light of Christianity to the “primitive heathens,” and who therefore could not be guilty of those injustices that other Europeans performed in Africa. Although racism in Finland certainly cannot be explained merely by “the colonial paradigm of racism,”34 denying the fact that colonial mentalities have been, and still are, part of Finnish culture is to ignore many historical facts. The memoirs of Rosa Lemberg challenge the predominant narratives of encounters between Africans and Finns and question the naive national self-image of “Finnish exceptionalism,” which is persistently kept alive and reproduced in everyday discussions to deny the existence of racism. Despite the racism and disrespect she faced, and all the other sad parts of her life, the story of Rosa is also comforting. In her memoirs she writes about Finns who treated her as an equal and whom she will always remember as her dear friends. She longs for some places in Finland in which she, according to her memoirs, “hardly ever was subjected to mockery because I was African and my complexion was darker than that of Scandinavians.”35 The fact that there seem to have been some white Finns like that already more than a hundred years ago reminds us that there still are, and always have been, alternative ways of encountering strangers. Questioning and fighting against those ideas and ideologies that prevent us from meeting others as equals can be approached as an inviting possibility instead of merely being a moral responsibility (of, say, “good Christians,” “egalitarian Scandinavians” or wealthy Nordic countries).

AFRICAN STUDENTS IN FINLAND After Rosa Clay Lemberg, a string of memoirs were written by African students about their times in Finland—beginning with Joseph Owindi’s experiences during the 1960s, when there only were a trickle of Africans in the country, to Lammin Sullay’s time during the 1990s when more sizable populations of Africans began immigrating to Finland. When Joseph Owindi moved from Kenya to Finland in 1963 to study social sciences, he was the fi rst black student to enroll at the University of Tampere. He began writing his memoirs while he was still living in Finland. His book entitled Kato, kato nekru [Look, Look, a Nigger] was translated into Finnish and published in Finland after he had returned to Kenya in 1972. 36 The book starts with a description of his fi rst encounter with Finnish people on a ferryboat from Stockholm to Turku: “Facing such kindness by Europeans was something I had not expected.” 37 After his arrival he soon found out that Finns’ kindness rather was a curiosity that made them not only stare at him but also touch his hair and skin whenever possible. “People who live in this distant country, do not often have an opportunity and a pleasure to come across a Black person,” Owindi writes. 38

196

Anna Rastas

The title and theme of the book notwithstanding, Owindi’s descriptions of his encounters with Finns and Finnish culture are polite. Feelings of loneliness in the white landscape of Finland and the many moments of frustration with Finns’ inability to confront him as an equal are addressed with an ironic and disarming sense of humor. Nonetheless, as Eila Rantonen writes in her analysis of Owindi’s book, Kato, kato nekru offers a bold description of the racism he experienced during his years in Finland. 39 Owindi’s characterizations of Finns are not flattering. His most caustic criticism is directed towards Finns’ denials of the existence of racism: “Finns keep saying, pathologically, that there is no racism in Finland.”40 His experiences were not only about facing Finns’ stereotypical images of Africans and their blatant curiosity that made them forget all good manners. He was also discriminated against in restaurants and in other places, and his knowledge of the world, even his knowledge of Africa and Africans, was routinely ignored: “Like white people everywhere, they think that they know more about Black people than Black people themselves.”41 He also shares his experiences of Finns, who after a couple of drinks had asked him to tell them about Africa or about his impressions of Finland, but who never really wanted to listen to him. Or, of Finnish students whose blustering speeches of solidarity turned out to be empty words whenever he asked them for help. The book is full of such examples and amounts to a depressing picture of what it must have been like to be a black student in Finland during the 1960s. As a reader, the sense of alienation and isolation strikes one as nearly unbearable. And, as he writes, he was only able to share his experiences with fellow African students who all lived in other Finnish cities. The small community of African students in Helsinki was important since it also allowed an entry into an imagined community of African students in the Western world. In Helsinki, students from various African countries, with transnational networks, were able to share news from Africa, and to discuss the situation of black people, and black students’ movements,42 in the other parts of the world. Since the publication of Owindi’s book, several African students who live or have lived in Finland have tried to break the silence around racism. Ellen Ndeshi Namhila, who studied in Finland during the years 1985–1993, wrote The Price of Freedom, originally in English.43 Some Finnish friends of hers translated the book into Finnish and endured many disappointments before fi nding a publisher.44 The book tells about Namhila’s childhood in Northern Namibia, her years as a refugee in other African countries and about her time in Finland as a university student. Many of the (dozens of) examples of racism she shares are about Finns’ prejudices towards black Africans, and immigrants in general, and about the xenophobic culture in which every African is a criminal or a potential carrier of HIV. As Rosa Clay Lemberg and Joseph Owindi before her, she also was subjected to racial harassment

Talking Back

197

while walking in the city. Like Owindi, she left Finland after she fi nished her studies and returned to Namibia. In the 1980s, there were already some refugees from Africa in Finland. While Owindi had faced Finns’ prejudices and reactions towards Africans, Namhila was seen as both an African and a refugee, despite the fact that she had arrived as a student, not a refugee. She writes: “I was a refugee; it was a stinging label attached to me.”45 In another essay, Living Abroad, Namhila recalls: “there were times when I felt like I was a beggar at a rich man’s door.”46 Even though she made friends and got help from some Finns, her life as a student and a single mother was hard. There is a striking contradiction between the self-elevating image, provided by missionary texts, of Finns’ willingness to help their fellow humans (especially Namibians) and Nahmhila’s experiences in Finland. “If I asked someone to babysit my child, or to bring her home from the day-care center, they expected me to pay for that [ . . . ] A ‘just take care of yourself’ mentality is deeply rooted in Finnish culture.”47 One of the topics African students in Finland have tried to engage is the impact of the predominantly negative representations of Africa and Africans in Finnish media. “I got so angry when I saw how Africans were portrayed, as people who do not feel pain or hunger,” Namhila writes.48 According to another African student, Lammin Sullay, Finnish media only writes about wars and starvation in Africa, and about countries like Somalia, Ethiopia and Rwanda, never about positive things in Africa. Sullay was born in Sierra Leone and came to Finland in 1990, and published several book-length essays in both Finnish and English. The literary value of his texts can be questioned, but his writings can also be read as important documents of the everyday life of African students in Finland during the 1990s.49 In order to give foreigners in Finland a voice, Sullay launched a magazine called Scandi-B, of which six issues were published during the years 1993–1995. According to Sullay, Finnish newspapers were not able to efficiently deal with the news and issues related to the life of the newcomers, their ideas, expectations and experiences. The number of African students has grown considerably during the 1990s and 2000s, but there are still very few African scholars in Finnish Universities. Moroccan-born M’hammed Sabour, a professor of sociology at the University of Eastern Finland, has published both scholarly texts about Africans in Finland and autobiographic works, like Suomalainen unelma (A Finnish Dream) based on his diaries.50 All the topics that are brought out in texts written by African students can also be found in Sabour’s work. Although, as Michelle Wright reminds us, “different Blacks suffer differently according to their socioeconomic status,”51 even a professor (from North Africa with a lighter complexion), who speaks Finnish fluently, may become a target of cruel racism. Sabour’s experiences include, for example, being verbally abused and physically threatened by fanatic racists. 52

198

Anna Rastas

DISCOURSES OF IMMIGRATION With the rapid increase of immigrants since the 1990s, societal norms for how people of foreign background should be treated and talked about have changed in Finland. These changes can be seen, for example, in how Finns attitudes towards “the N-word” have changed during the last twenty years. Due to the presence of new black minorities the Finnish word “neekeri” (which means both “negro” and “nigger,” depending on the context) is now considered an improper word.53 Although overt expressions of racism are disapproved, racist undertones are still common in public debates on immigration. Refugees especially are categorized as unwanted immigrants, and the way they all too often are spoken of—for example, by many Finnish politicians—is perhaps not what one would expect in a society that prides itself in being liberal and democratic. 54 Xenophobic images of refugees as a threat and burden only to Finnish taxpayers is no small stigma for Finns of refugee background. Not only Somalis, but also most people from the former Zaire and Sudan, have arrived as refugees. On the whole, in most of Finland’s African communities there is a sizeable amount of people of refugee background. As happened to Namhila in the 1980s, also today anonymous black individuals are, as they move about in society, often stigmatized as refugees. Talking back, opposing these anti-immigrant discourses, is difficult for those who are new to society, do not know the language well and who are forced to pour much of their energy into fi nding survival strategies for their everyday lives. In light of statistics, a majority of Africans in Finland are migrants of refugee background. Not surprisingly, most of the textual “talking back” (if we exclude texts that are published on the internet) can be found in so-called immigrant anthologies. 55 The compulsion to resist the tendency to categorize all black people as refugees as well as other discourses in which people of immigrant background are excluded from the (rest of the) nation, can be seen in the titles of many of these anthologies: Kotona Suomessa (At home in Finland), Suomalaisia (Finns), Kuuntele minua! (Listen to me!), Nimeni ei ole pakolainen (Refugee is not my name). There are also many texts that attempt to inform Finnish readers of the experiences particular to being a refugee. 56 A good example of this is an anthology of poems written and collected by sixteen Somali women. Their stories of loss interrogate the depictions of refugees as people who have left their countries only to benefit from our welfare state. Men, who continue the warfare in Somalia, are openly criticized by most of the authors, since as one of the authors, Ardo Xaasi Samatar, writes, unless the men stop fighting her name will be Refugee Forever. 57 Especially Somalis, as Africans and Muslims and refugees, have become victims of stereotyping and overt racism. As Zahra Abdullah, an

Talking Back

199

active and successful Finnish politician of Somali background writes: The word “Somali” has become a swearword in Finland. 58 In schoolyards, and even by grown up people in public debates, the word “Somali” is used as a synonym for unwanted migrants. Said Aden, the former chairman of the Somali League in Finland, has contributed a chapter to a book on current immigration debates in Finland. 59 Throughout his text, he questions the common images of refugees as “the ultimate ‘others’” and as “mute victims.”60 Aden writes about himself not only as a Somali but also as a father and taxpayer like any other and calls for Finnish Somalis to be recognized as ordinary citizens. At the end of his essay he writes: “We have shown that we can integrate into this society. But the Finnish Somali community is still worried about the situation and the future of immigrant youth.” What kind of an environment does Finland provide for raising children, he asks, if the surrounding society merely sees them as problems and threats?61 Another tendency in public discourse on immigration, along with the heated debates on the negative issues related to refugees—and then especially the costs of their reception—seems to be a shift away from speaking of exotic looking strangers to people whose integration into Finnish society is difficult because of their cultural differences. Anthropologist Ulf Hannerz has termed such discourse culturespeak.62 It turns nearly everything concerning “foreigners” into discussions of cultural differences, typically articulated as essential and negative features of “them.” In such discourses the most significant dividing-line is often perceived as being between European and non-European cultures, where “culture” not seldom acts as a stand-in for “race.” Such discourses run the risk of masking, and failing to deal with, issues of racism. This is the case in Finland where, although racism as a topic of discussion is no longer taboo, most discussions of racism are denials of its existence rather than discussions of its workings and consequences in society.63 Since Somalis usually are mentioned in discussions of what are seen as problems of cultural difference in multicultural Finland, it is interesting to note how texts written by Finnish Somalis differ from majority discourses. In Aden’s text, the Finnishness of Finnish Somalis and their right to belong is emphasized. Some other texts also discuss cultural differences and problems caused by them, but not in an essentialist way. Cultural differences are discussed and even emphasized, but they are not seen as insurmountable obstacles that prevent people from sharing everyday life with other people in the same locations. Rather, as in Aden’s essay, the inability to deal with cultural difference is presented as a mutual problem. Moreover, not only difference is discussed but also redeeming commonalities. Some authors also want to emphasize their knowledge of Finnish culture by, for example, writing about topics like the history of Finland or famous Finnish authors.

200 Anna Rastas TALKING BACK TO EXCLUSIVE FINNISHNESS While many black Finns are frustrated because of being categorized as refugees (forever), especially the young people are struggling in an environment in which there are no words for their particularity as Finns of African descent. It seems to me that one of the preconditions for their situation to change to the better is the availability of non-pejorative concepts for individuals of African descent. An analysis of thirty-six media articles that talked about a play called The Duck Hunter clearly illustrates a glaring absence of such expressions for non-white people of mixed parentage or for the descriptions of racialized relations in general. The play was performed in the National Theater of Finland in 2006. It was based on the lives of the four Finnish actors who performed it and expressed some of their experiences of growing up in Finland during the 1970s and 80s as children of white Finnish mothers and African fathers whom they never knew. How these young Finns can and should be labeled was a topic discussed in most of the media texts about the play. Not even the actors (of similar backgrounds) themselves had a shared view on the words that would best describe their racial identities.64 Kaisla Löyttyjärvi, one of the actors of the play, was, like Said Aden, one of the contributors to the above mentioned book debating immigration. Of the four actors in the play, she is the only one who, as a person of African descent in Finland, designated herself as “Black,” and this in addition to the other actors’ experiences of racism was evident in the play. Her essay is a haunting account of her youth as a black person born in Finland. She also describes how one cannot really know what the life of an individual “immigrant” is like and that we therefore should encounter “them” as individuals who might not want to be categorized at all.65 This kind of resistance toward existing categorizations and identities offered by other people is a very common theme in texts that tell about young people’s experiences. Most of them are published in immigrant anthologies and many of them are based on interviews. Young African immigrants, children born in Finland to African immigrant families, transnational adoptees who have been brought to Finland from Africa as babies, as well as young people of different “racial” backgrounds all seem to struggle with the demands of describing and explaining their identities.66 In current Finnish discussions about identities in a multicultural and multiethnic society, young people of foreign background are often encouraged not to make a choice between two cultures, but instead to “choose the good things from both of those cultures.” However, most young people’s multiple identifications outnumber the “two cultures” model offered to them. Their transnational subjectivities are constructed in relation to a greater variety of cultures, including diasporic cultures and other imagined communities. Therefore we need to identify their acts of talking back also in their refusals to exclusively embrace some of the identities offered to them.

Talking Back

201

Adult Finnish Africans often speak of their and their children’s rights to speak of themselves as Finns. However, in these texts many young Finns of African descent reject Finnishness as their identity, by saying for example “I am not Finnish” or “I will never become Finnish.” This should most defi nitely not be interpreted as internalized racism that prevents them from claiming their rights as residents and citizens, but as “gestures of defiance.”67 They know that they are expected to be or become good citizens who may keep the “good parts” of their parents’ culture, but who are supposed to integrate into, and embrace the dominant ideas of, “Finnish culture” and Finnishness. Their refusing to call themselves Finns can be understood as their means of expressing that there is something wrong with this Finnishness which they are expected to identify with. Addressing the negative aspects of Finnishness and giving a message of “I don’t want to be like that” in an environment where “our culture” is so desperately guarded is, if anything, talking back. NOTES 1. John Davis, “History and the People without Europe,” in Other Histories, ed. Kirsten Hastrup (London and New York: Routledge, 1992), 21. 2. Liisa Malkki, “Speechless Emissaries: Refugees, Humanitarianism, and Dehistorization,” Cultural Anthropology 11 (1996): 398. 3. For discussion on the use of personal narratives in social research, see e.g. Matti Hyvärinen, “Analyzing Narratives and Story-Telling,” in The SAGE Handbook of Social Research Methods, ed. Pertti Alasuutari et al. (Los Angeles, London, New Delhi, and Singapore: Sage, 2008). 4. Sidonie Smith, “Who’s Talking/Who’s Talking Back? The Subject of Personal Narrative,” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 18 (1993): 393. 5. Sandra Harding, “Standpoint Epistemology (a Feminist Version): How Social Disadvantage Creates Epistemic Advantage,” in Social Theory and Sociology: The Classics and Beyond, ed. S. P. Turner (Cambridge: Blackwell, 1996). 6. Marta Sofia López, “Introduction,” in Afroeurope@ns: Cultures and Identities, ed. Marta Sofia López (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2008), 6. For more discussion on the literary production of people of African origin in Europe see e.g. Mark Stein, Black British Literature: Novels of Transformation (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 2004); Dominic Thomas, Black France: Colonialism, Immigration and Transnationalism (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2007); Marta Sofia López, ed., Afroeurope@ns; Sabrina Brancato, Afro-Europe: Texts and Contexts (Berlin: trafo, 2009); Alessandra Di Maio, “Black Italia: Contemporary Migrant Writers from Africa,” in Black Europe, eds. Darlene Clark Hine, Trica Danielle Keaton, and Stephen Small (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2009); Elisabeth Bekers, Sissy Helff, and Daniella Merolla, eds., “Transcultural Modernities: Narrating Africa in Europe,” special issue, Matatu: Journal for African Culture and Society 36 (2009). See also Wasafiri: The Magazine of Contemporary Writing 23, no. 4 (2008), a special issue on African Europeans. 7. bell hooks, Talking Back: Thinking Feminist, Thinking Black (Cambridge, MA: South End Press, 1989), 9.

202

Anna Rastas

8. In order to examine such acts of talking back, it is necessary to have an understanding of what are those dominant categorizations and discourses in Finland that people from Africa and the diaspora resist. I have examined representations of Africa, encounters between Africans and Finns, and the presence of Africans and their descendants in Finland in media texts and in various genres of literature in Finnish in a three-year research project entitled African(ns) in Finnish Non-Fiction. 9. Statistics Finland, retrieved September 13, 2010 from http://www.tilastokeskus.fi /index_en.html. 10. The estimates of the numbers of Somalis and their descendants in Finland seem to vary between 10 000 and 15 000 depending on the source. Their number is growing rapidly, especially due to family reunifications. 11. Catherine Besteman, Unraveling Somalia: Race, Class, and the Legacy of Slavery (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999). According to Besteman, even before the civil war there emerged in Somalia a social order based on principles other than simple clan organization. It was stratified on the basis of race, status, class, region and language. The Islamic Somali-speaking people of “Bantu” ancestry, who have lived in the river valleys for generations (the people of the Jubba valley Gosha area), have always confronted discrimination in Somalia because their ancestors were brought to Somalia as slaves and on the basis of their “Bantu” heritage. “Within Somali clans, adopted members of “Bantu” ancestry held a lower status; among clans, the clans of the south that absorbed (or were believed to have absorbed) large numbers of “Bantus” or Oromos were considered lower status in the national arena” (21). 12. See Anna Rastas, “Racializing Categorization among Young People in Finland,” YOUNG-Nordic Journal of Youth Research 13 (2005): 156. 13. For discussion on young Finns’ experiences of racism, and their means to negotiate their experiences, see Anna Rastas, “Racism in the Everyday Life of Finnish Children with Transnational Roots,” Barn 27 (2009). 14. See Anna Rastas, “Reading History through Finnish Exceptionalism,” in Whiteness and Postcolonialism in the Nordic Region, eds. Kristín Loftsdóttir and Lars Jensen (Farnham: Ashgate 2012), 89–103. 15. On colonial complicity in Finland, see Ulla Vuorela, “Colonial Complicity: The ‘Postcolonial’ in a Nordic Context,” in Complying with Colonialism: Gender, Race and Ethnicity in the Nordic Region, eds. Suvi Keskinen, Salla Tuori, Sari Irni, and Diana Mulinari (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2009), and Rastas, “Reading History through Finnish Exceptionalism”. On how Finns became White, see Anna Rastas, “Am I Still White? Dealing with the Colour Trouble,” Balayi: Culture, Law and Colonialism 6 (2004), 98–99. 16. Olli Löytty, “Shades of White: Finnish Missionaries and Their ‘Heathens’ in Namibia,” Balayi: Culture, Law and Colonialism 6 (2004): 107–109; Pellervo Kokkonen, “Early Missionary Literature and the Construction of the Popular Image of Africa in Finland,” in Text and Image: Social Construction of Regional Knowledges, eds. Anne Buttimer, Stanley D. Brunn, and Ute Wardenga (Leipzig: Institut für Länderkunde, 1999). 17. In present times, most of the people in Ovamboland are Lutherans and belong to the very church founded by Finnish missionaries. 18. Olli Löytty and Anna Rastas, “Afrikka Suomesta katsottuna,” in Afrikan aika. Näkökulmia Saharan eteläpuoliseen Afrikkaan, ed. Annika Teppo (Helsinki: Gaudeamus, 2011). 19. Allison Blakely, “African Imprints on Russia: An Historical Overview,” in Africa in Russia, Russia in Africa: Three Centuries of Encounters, ed. Maxim Matusevich (Trenton, NJ and Asmara, Eritrea: Africa World Press, 2007), 41.

Talking Back

203

20. The story of Rosa Clay may provide us with a beginning of the history of African diaspora in Finland. Two documentaries about the history of Africans in Finland were broadcast by the Finnish Broadcasting Company in 2010: Leena Peltokangas’ radio documentary “Roosa Suomesta. Ensimmäisiä afrikkalaisia etsimässä” [Rosa from Finland. Tracing the fi rst Africans in Finland] and Mia Jonkka’s TV-documentary “Afro-Suomen historia” [The history of Afro-Finland]. Both of these documentaries begin with the story of Rosa Clay. 21. My translation. Kaukaisia matkustajia, Wiipurin Uutiset, June 8, 1888. 22. Arvo Lindewall, Rosalia (New York: Kansallinen Kustannuskomitea, 1942). 23. At Rosa’s request, Rosalia was written using pseudonyms to refer to persons. As a historic document, although we have no reason to doubt Rosa’s story and many facts can be verified, we cannot be certain that everything in the book is true. A more thorough version of her life story, The Rosa Lemberg Story, is written by historian Eva Erickson (Superior, WI: Työmies Society, 1993). It was published in English in the U.S. in 1993 and primarily focuses on Rosa’s years in the U.S. What is told about the life of Rosa Clay (Lemberg) in the essay you now are reading is for the most part based on Lindewall’s and Erickson’s books. However, while doing her radio documentary on the fi rst Africans in Finland and working as an assistant for the Africa(ns) in Finnish non-fiction project, Leena Peltokangas has researched various archives and interviewed many people, including Rosa Lemberg’s granddaughters in the U.S., to fi nd more information about her life. 24. Erickson, The Rosa Lemberg Story, 5. 25. My translation. Lindewall, Rosalia, 37. 26. My translation. Ibid., 38. 27. Erickson, The Rosa Lemberg Story, 6. 28. See e.g. Stuart Hall, “The Spectacle of the ‘Other,’” in Representation, ed. Stuart Hall (London: Sage & Open University, 1997). 29. My translation. Lindewall, Rosalia, 44. 30. My translation. Ibid., 47–48. 31. Erickson, The Rosa Lemberg Story, 7. 32. E.g. Tampereen Uutiset 59, March 27, 1901. 33. Leena Peltokangas’ interview with Rosa Lemberg’s granddaughter Sonja Johnson, August 28, 2009. 34. See Robert Miles, “Explaining Racism in Contemporary Europe,” in Racism, Modernity and Identity: On the Western Front, eds. Ali Rattansi and Sallie Westwood (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1994), 200. 35. My translation. Lindewall, Rosalia, 47. 36. Joseph Owindi, Kato, kato nekru, trans. Risto Karlsson (Porvoo: WSOY, 1972). In an interview with Owindi (July 29, 2009) I asked him if the title of his book refers to the famous episode in Franz Fanon’s book, Black Skin, White Masks. He answered that his publisher had suggested “the provocative title of the book.” 37. My translation. Owindi, Kato, kato nekru, 22. 38. My translation. Ibid., 29. 39. Eila Rantonen, “African Voices in Finland and Sweden,” in Bekers et al., “Transcultural Modernities,” 80. 40. My translation. Owindi, Kato, kato nekru, 47. 41. My translation. Ibid., 57. 42. See e.g. Franz Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks, trans. Charles Lam Markmann (London: Pluto Press 1986); Blakely, “African Imprints on Russia,” 52–53; Zine Magubane, “American Philanthropy and African Education:

204

43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53.

54. 55.

56. 57. 58. 59. 60.

Anna Rastas African Students in the Metropolis in the 1960s,” African and Black Diaspora: An International Journal 2 (2009). Ellen Ndeshi Namhila, The Price of Freedom (Windhoek: New Namibia Books, 1997). Ellen Ndeshi Namhila, Vapauden hinta, trans. Maria Forsman and Eija Poteri (Helsinki: Rauhankasvatusinstituutti ry, 2001). My translation. Namhila, Vapauden hinta, 75. Ellen Ndeshi Namhila, “Living Abroad,” in Coming on Strong: Writing by Namibian Women, eds. Margie Orford and Nepeti Nicanor (Windhoek: New Namibia Books, 1996). My translation. Namhila, Vapauden hinta, 73. My translation. Ibid., 88. A list of some of the writings in English by Lammin Sullay can be found on the Internet; see http://www.immi.se/kultur/nordisk/sullay.htm. M’hammed Sabour, Suomalainen unelma : Tapahtumia ja tulkintoja Suomesta ja suomalaisista (Joensuu University Press, 1999). Michelle M. Wright, “Pale by Comparison: Black Liberal Humanism and the Postwar Era in the African Diaspora,” in Black Europe, eds. Hine et al., 268. Anna Rastas’ interview with M’hammed Sabour, November 25, 2009. For my analysis on the use and the meanings of the N-word in Finland, see Anna Rastas, “Neutraalisti rasistinen? Erään sanan politiikkaa,” in Kolonialismin jäljet, eds. Joel Kuortti, Mikko Lehtonen, and Olli Löytty (Helsinki: Gaudeamus, 2007). For analyses of current immigrant debates in Finland, see Suvi Keskinen, Anna Rastas, and Salla Tuori, eds., En ole rasisti, mutta . . . Maahanmuutosta, monikulttuurisuudesta ja kritiikistä (Tampere: Vastapaino, 2009). In addition to searches from libraries and various on-line databases, texts written by Africans and black people in Finland were looked for by approaching all the relevant publishing houses. Of all the texts included in this data (N= over 30) only a few are written by a single author. Most of the texts were found in so called immigrant anthologies, and some of them are based on interviews. There are also some co-authored autobiographies, e.g. about the Kenyan-born Wilson Kirwa; see Wilson Kirwa, Wilson Kirwa—juoksijasoturin ihmeellinen elämä, ed. Heikki Saure (Helsinki: Otava, 2006). Kirwa’s best-known publications are books for children, traditional African stories that have been translated into Finnish. For more discussion on his works, see Rantonen, “African Voices in Finland and Sweden,” in Bekers et al., “Transcultural Modernitites,” 76, 80–81. I want to thank Jarkko Päivärinta for his valuable help in recording and analyzing many of these texts. For discussion on refugee experience in literature, see e.g. Sabrina Brancato, “Life Maps: Towards a Cartography of Refugee Experience,” Afroeuropa 2 (2008). . Marja Tiilikainen, Amran Maxamed Axmed, and Muddle Suzanne Lilius, eds., Sagaal Dayrood—Nio höstregn—Yhdeksän syyssadetta (Helsinki University Press, 2000), 221–223. Zahra Abdulla, “Zahra Abdulla,” in Réfugiés: Pakolaisten ääniä Suomessa, ed. Maisa Kuikka (Helsinki: Suomen rauhanpuolustajat, Maailman musiikin keskus, Like, 2002). Said Aden, “Ikuisesti pakolaisina? Maahanmuuttokeskustelu Suomen somalialaisten näkökulmasta,” in En ole rasisti, eds. Keskinen et al. See e.g. Sissy Helff, “‘The New Europeans’: The Image of the African Refugee in European Literature,” African and Black Diaspora: An International Journal 1 (2008); Malkki, “Speechless Emissaries.”

Talking Back

205

61. My translation. Aden, “Ikuisesti pakolaisina?” 32. 62. See Ulf Hannerz, “Reflections on Varieties of Culturespeak,” European Journal of Cultural Studies 2 (1999), 393–407. 63. See Anna Rastas, “Rasismin kiistäminen suomalaisessa maahanmuuttokeskustelussa,” in En ole rasisti, eds. Keskinen et al. 64. See Anna Simola and Anna Rastas, “‘Jos rohkenen sanoa . . . ’ Voiko ihonväristä puhua edistämättä rasismia?” in Journalismikritiikin vuosikirja 2008 (Tampere: Tampereen yliopisto, Journalismin tutkimusyksikkö, 2008). One of the objectives of the field work during the Africa(ns) in Finnish nonFiction project is to examine the expressions used by Finnish Africans themselves when they talk about their positions in racialized relations and about the other dimensions of their transnational subjectivities. 65. Kaisla Löyttyjärvi, “Erilainen nuori” in En ole rasisti, eds. Keskinen et al. 66. See also, Anna Rastas, ”Ethnic Identities and Transnational Subjectivities,” in Multiple identities. Migrants, Ethnicity, and Membership, ed. Paul Spickard (Bloomington & Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 2013). 67. See hooks, Talking Back, 9.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Abdulla, Zahra. “Zahra Abdulla.” In Réfugiés: Pakolaisten ääniä Suomessa, edited by Maisa Kuikka, 69–73. Helsinki: Suomen rauhanpuolustajat, Maailman musiikin keskus, Like, 2002. Aden, Said. “Ikuisesti pakolaisina? Maahanmuuttokeskustelu Suomen somalialaisten näkökulmasta.” In En ole rasisti, mutta . . . Maahanmuutosta, monikulttuurisuudesta ja kritiikistä, edited by Suvi Keskinen, Anna Rastas, and Salla Tuori, 25–32. Tampere: Vastapaino, 2009. Bekers, Elisabeth, Sissy Helff, and Daniella Merolla, eds. “Transcultural Modernities: Narrating Africa in Europe.” Special issue, Matatu—Journal for African Culture and Society 36 (2009). Amsterdam: Rodopi. Besteman, Catherine. Unraveling Somalia: Race, Class, and the Legacy of Slavery. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999. Blakely, Allison. “African Imprints on Russia: An Historical Overview.” In Africa in Russia, Russia in Africa: Three Centuries of Encounters, edited by Maxim Matusevich, 37–59. Trenton, NJ and Asmara, Eritrea: Africa World Press, 2007. Brancato, Sabrina. “Life Maps: Towards a Cartography of Refugee Experience.” Afroeuropa 2 (2008). Retrieved October 13, 2010 from http://journal.afroeuropa.eu/index.php/afroeuropa/index. . Afro-Europe: Texts and Contexts. Berlin: trafo Wissenschaftsverlag, 2009. Davis, John. “History and the People without Europe.” In Other Histories, edited by Kirsten Hastrup, 14–28. London and New York: Routledge, 1992. Di Maio, Alessandra. “Black Italia: Contemporary Migrant Writers from Africa.” In Black Europe and the African Diaspora, edited by Darlene Clark Hine, Trica Danielle Keaton, and Stephen Small, 119–144. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2009. Erickson, Eva. The Rosa Lemberg Story. Superior, WI: The Työmies Society, 1993. Fanon, Franz. Black Skin, White Masks. Translated by Charles Lam Markmann. London: Pluto Press, 1986. Hall, Stuart. “The Spectacle of the ‘Other.’” In Representation, edited by Stuart Hall, 223–90. London: Sage and Open University, 1997.

206 Anna Rastas Hannerz, Ulf. “Reflections on Varieties of Culturespeak.” European Journal of Cultural Studies 2 (1999): 393–407. Harding, Sandra. “Standpoint Epistemology (a Feminist Version): How Social Disadvantage Creates Epistemic Advantage.” In Social Theory and Sociology: The Classics and Beyond, edited by S. P. Turner, 146–160. Cambridge: Blackwell, 1996. Helff, Sissy. “‘The New Europeans’: The Image of the African Refugee in European Literature.” African and Black Diaspora: An International Journal 1 (2008): 123–32. hooks, bell. Talking Back: Thinking Feminist, Thinking Black. Cambridge, MA: South End Press, 1989. Hyvärinen, Matti. “Analyzing Narratives and Story-Telling.” In The SAGE handbook of Social Research Methods, edited by Pertti Alasuutari, Leonard Bickman, and Julia Brannen, 447–460. Los Angeles, London, New Delhi, andSingapore: Sage, 2008. Keskinen, Suvi, Anna Rastas, and Salla Tuori, eds. En ole rasisti, mutta . . . Maahanmuutosta, monikulttuurisuudesta ja kritiikistä. Tampere: Vastapaino, 2009. Kirwa, Wilson. Wilson Kirwa—juoksijasoturin ihmeellinen elämä. Edited by Heikki Saure. Helsinki: Otava, 2006. Kokkonen, Pellervo. “Early Missionary Literature and the Construction of the Popular Image of Africa in Finland.” In Text and Image: Social Construction of Regional Knowledges, edited by Anne Buttimer, Stanley D. Brunn, and Ute Wardenga, 205–213. Leipzig: Institut für Länderkunde, 1999. Lindewall, Arvo. Rosalia. New York: Kansallinen Kustannuskomitea, 1942. López, Marta Sofia, ed. Afroeurope@ns: Cultures and Identities. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2008. . “Introduction.” In Afroeurope@ns: Cultures and Identities, edited by Marta Sofia López, 1–10. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2008. Löytty, Olli. “Shades of White: Finnish Missionaries and Their ‘Heathens’ in Namibia.” Balayi: Culture, Law and Colonialism 6 (2004): 107–123. , and Anna Rastas. “Afrikka Suomesta katsottuna.” In Afrikan aika. Näkökulmia Saharan eteläpuoliseen Afrikkaan, edited by Annika Teppo. Helsinki: Gaudeamus, 2011. Löyttyjärvi, Kaisla. “Erilainen nuori.” In En ole rasisti, mutta . . . Maahanmuutosta, monikulttuurisuudesta ja kritiikistä, edited by Suvi Keskinen, Anna Rastas, and Salla Tuori, 123–131. Tampere: Vastapaino, 2009. Magubane, Zine. “American Philanthropy and African Education: African Students in the Metropolis in the 1960s.” African and Black Diaspora: An International Journal 2 (2009): 43–53. Malkki, Liisa. “Speechless Emissaries: Refugees, Humanitarianism, and Dehistorization.” Cultural Anthropology 11 (1996): 377–404. Miles, Robert. “Explaining Racism in Contemporary Europe.” In Racism, Modernity and Identity: On the Western Front, edited by Ali Rattansi and Sallie Westwood, 189–221. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1994. Namhila, Ellen Ndeshi. “Living Abroad.” In Coming on Strong: Writing by Namibian Women, edited by Margie Orford and Nepeti Nicanor, 73–82. Windhoek: New Namibia Books, 1996. . The Price of Freedom. Winhoek: New Namibia Books, 1997. . Vapauden hinta. Translated by Maria Forsman and Eija Poteri. Helsinki: Rauhankasvatusinstituutti ry, 2001. Owindi, Joseph. Kato, kato nekru. Translated by Risto Karlsson. Porvoo: WSOY, 1972. Rantonen, Eila. “African Voices in Finland and Sweden.” In “Transcultural Modernities: Narrating Africa in Europe,” special issue, Matatu. Journal for African

Talking Back

207

Culture and Society 36, edited by Elisabeth Bekers, Sissy Helff, and Daniela Merola, 71–83. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2009. Rastas, Anna. “Am I Still White? Dealing with the Colour Trouble.” Balayi: Culture, Law and Colonialism 6 (2004): 94–106. . “Racialising Categorization among Young People in Finland.” YOUNG— Nordic Journal of Youth Research 13 (2005): 147–166. . “Neutraalisti rasistinen? Erään sanan politiikkaa” In Kolonialismin jäljet, edited by Joel Kuortti, Mikko Lehtonen, and Olli Löytty, 119–141. Helsinki: Gaudeamus, 2007. . “Rasismin kiistäminen suomalaisessa maahanmuuttokeskustelussa.” In En ole rasisti mutta . . . Maahanmuutosta, monikulttuurisuudesta ja kritiikistä, edited by Suvi Keskinen, Anna Rastas, and Salla Tuori, 47–64. Tampere: Vastapaino, 2009. . “Racism in the Everyday Life of Finnish Children with Transnational Roots.” Barn 27 (2009): 29–43. . “Reading History through Finnish Exceptionalism,” in Whiteness and Postcolonialism in the Nordic Region, edited by Kristín Loftsdóttir and Lars Jensen, 89–103. Farnham: Ashgate 2012, . “Ethnic Identities and Transnational Subjectivities,” in Multiple Identities. Migrants, Ethnicity, and Membership, edited by Paul Spickard, 41–60. Bloomington & Indianapolis: Indiana University Press 2013. Sabour, M’hammed. Suomalainen unelma : Tapahtumia ja tulkintoja Suomesta ja suomalaisista. Joensuu University Press, 1999. Simola, Anna, and Anna Rastas. “‘Jos rohkenen sanoa . . . ’ Voiko ihonväristä puhua edistämättä rasismia?” In Journalismikritiikin vuosikirja 2008, edited by Maarit Jaakkola, 170–178. Tampere: Tampereen yliopisto, Journalismin tutkimusyksikkö, 2008. Also available online at http://tampub.uta.fi / tiedotusoppi/1797–6014.pdf. Smith, Sidonie. “Who’s Talking/Who’s Talking Back? The Subject of Personal Narrative.” Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 18 (1993): 392–407. Statistics Finland. Retrieved September 13, 2010 from http://www.tilastokeskus. fi /index_en.html. Stein, Mark. Black British Literature: Novels of Transformation. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 2004. Tiilikainen, Marja, Amran Maxamed Axmed, and Muddle Suzanne Lilius, eds. Sagaal Dayrood—Nio höstregn—Yhdeksän syyssadetta. Helsinki Unniversity Press, 2000. Thomas, Dominic. Black France: Colonialism, Immigration and Transnationalism. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2007. Vuorela, Ulla. “Colonial Complicity: The ‘Postcolonial’ in a Nordic Context.” In Complying with Colonialism: Gender, Race and Ethnicity in the Nordic Region, edited by Suvi Keskinen, Salla Tuori, Sari Irni, and Diana Mulinari, 19–33. Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, 2009. Wasafiri: The Magazine of Contemporary Writing 23, no. 4 (2008). Wright, Michelle M. “Pale by Comparison: Black Liberal Humanism and the Postwar Era in the African Diaspora.” In Black Europe and the African Diaspora, edited by Darlene Clark Hine, Trica Danielle Keaton, and Stephen Small, 260– 276. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2009.

10 Den Sorte Nella Larsen and Denmark Martyn Bone

In 1993, Paul Gilroy identified “Nella Larsen’s relationship to Denmark” as a Black Atlantic case study in waiting.1 Gilroy’s own pioneering study of the Black Atlantic emphasized African American male writers’ encounters with other European countries (W. E. B. Du Bois in Germany, Richard Wright in France), but his observation was pertinent. After all, a substantial portion of Larsen’s 1928 novel Quicksand concerns protagonist Helga Crane’s two years in Copenhagen. Furthermore, throughout her lifetime, in both private and public forums, Larsen emphasized her personal connections to both Denmark and its former Caribbean colony, the Danish West Indies. This essay consists of three sections. The fi rst section identifies a significant shift in Larsen criticism as scholars have begun to account for the full complexity of Larsen’s biracial, African American and Afro-Danish identities. Earlier scholarship, which situated Larsen exclusively within the Harlem Renaissance and American literary contexts, has since the late 1990s been challenged by a new wave of critics who take seriously the transnational and Danish dimensions of Larsen’s life and work. The second section takes a closer look at that life and work within a Danish context. Here I provide a critical reading of the section of Quicksand depicting Helga’s time in Copenhagen. I argue that Helga’s experiences in Denmark reveal similarities and differences between U.S. and Danish attitudes to race. Building on important insights from the new wave of Larsen scholarship, I propose that Danish slavery and colonialism in the Caribbean, ostensibly absent from the novel, provide an important historical and Black Atlantic framework for understanding Helga’s supposedly unique status within Copenhagen as “Den Sorte” (“The Black”). The third and fi nal section considers what it means to read Larsen in the fraught context of contemporary Denmark, where an established national self-image of social tolerance has run up against increasing anxiety about and resistance to the growing presence of nydanskere (“new Danes”): nonwhite, often Islamic immigrants and their “second generation” children born in Denmark. I propose that, as a pioneering account of a non-white immigrant to Copenhagen who is simultaneously the biracial daughter of a native Dane, Quicksand has an uncanny resonance in today’s tense but tentatively multicultural Denmark.

Den Sorte

209

IN SEARCH OF NELLA LARSEN—IN DENMARK Academic interest in Nella Larsen grew rapidly between the early 1970s and the mid-1990s. It was fueled by the emergence of Black Studies and its imperative to institute an identifiably African American literary tradition, as well as the parallel rise of Women’s Studies and feminist literary theory. Prior to this scholarly rediscovery of Larsen, her life was shrouded in mystery. In 1971, Hoyt Fuller remarked that “Nella Larsen is virtually unknown and certainly rarely read.” The same year, Adelaide Cromwell Hill could say little more than that “Nella Larsen’s career has a mysterious quality.”2 Misapprehensions about Larsen’s biography were such that, as late as 1969, S. P. Fullinwinder believed that Larsen “seems to have seen her fi rst southern Negro on a visit to Nashville in 1930.”3 Only later did it become clear to scholars that Larsen’s debut novel Quicksand, published in 1928, drew on her own experiences as a student at Fisk Normal School in Nashville (1907–1908), and as a nurse at Tuskegee Institute in Alabama (1915–1916), for its critical depiction of a black school in the rural South. As Larsen’s status within African American literary history grew during the 1980s and early 1990s, her relationship (or lack thereof) to black life and culture in the South became a contentious issue. This was partly due to the fact that frequently Larsen was compared to and contrasted with Zora Neale Hurston, a Harlem Renaissance contemporary whose work was steeped in black southern folk culture, and whose hyper-canonization between the mid1970s and early 1990s both epitomized and shaped the broader upsurge of academic interest in African American women’s writing. Such comparisons with Hurston are notable because they were often unfavorable to Larsen. For example, seeking “to conceptualize a southern, vernacular ancestry” in black women’s writing, Houston Baker’s Workings of the Spirit (1991) praised Hurston’s depictions of the southern female folk while charging that “[b]lack southern vernacular energies remain an absence” in Larsen’s novels. For Baker, both Quicksand and Passing (1929) were marred by a “mulatto aesthetics” that lacked “a fleshing out of . . . the southern, vernacular, communal expressivity of black mothers and grandmothers.”4 By valorizing a critical model of black women’s writing based on matrilineal ties to the vernacular South, Workings of the Spirit is weighted against both Larsen and Quicksand’s protagonist Helga Crane. Neither Larsen nor her semi-autobiographical protagonist had that kind of heritage. Nella Larsen—or Nellie Walker, as she was named on her birth certificate—was born in Chicago in April 1891 to a white Danish immigrant, Mary Hansen, and a black father, Peter Walker. Indeed, neither parent was American: Larsen described herself in a 1926 Alfred Knopf publicity statement as “a mulatto, the daughter of a Danish lady and a Negro from the Virgin Islands, formerly the Danish West Indies.”5 It seems likely that Mary and Peter’s shared knowledge of Danish was a factor in their union. However, when Walker died shortly after Nellie’s birth, the infant and her Danish mother were left in a precarious position. In this period, the

210 Martyn Bone “one-drop rule” for defi ning racial identity had spread, as F. James Davis puts it, “from the American South to become the nation’s defi nition, generally accepted by whites and blacks alike.” As such, Nellie was defi ned as not only the product of miscegenation—in itself a major taboo—but also the “Negro” daughter of a working-class, widowed, white mother.6 Mary must have been mightily relieved when she married again to Peter Larsen, a fellow white Danish immigrant. In Quicksand, Helga recalls her mother’s “second marriage, to a man of her own race” as a “grievous necessity. Even foolish, despised women must have food and clothing; even unloved little Negro girls must be somehow provided for.”7 Yet Nellie still stood out as a “Negro” girl in a white immigrant household and, in accordance with the logic of the one-drop rule, she was sent to the all-black Fisk Normal School in Nashville in 1907—Larsen’s fi rst encounter with the South. In order to more fully understand Larsen’s life and fiction, we need to not only contemplate her position as both “Negro” and biracial in the United States, but also place her in cultural contexts that go beyond U.S. regional and national borders. Yet in the early 1990s, critics continued to score Larsen for her supposed superciliousness toward black southern folk life,8 and treat Larsen’s emphasis on her mixed Afro-Danish parentage with skepticism. This latter tendency is evident in two major biographies: Charles Larson’s dual study of Larsen and Jean Toomer, Invisible Darkness (1993), and Thadious Davis’ widely praised Nella Larsen: Novelist of the Harlem Renaissance (1994). Though both Larson and Davis brought to light previously hidden details of Larsen’s life, they largely dismissed their subject’s repeated claims that she had traveled to and lived in Denmark. In the aforementioned 1926 publicity statement, Larsen wrote: “When she was sixteen she went alone to Denmark to visit relatives of her mother in Copenhagen where she remained for three years.”9 Such an extended stay in Denmark roughly tallies with a conspicuous four-year gap in the record of Larsen’s life between June 1908, when seventeen year-old Nella was expelled from Fisk Normal School, and May 1912, when she began her studies at a nursing school in New York. In grant applications, interviews and conversations with friends from her Harlem Renaissance heyday until her death in 1964, Larsen consistently claimed to have lived and studied in Denmark, sometimes mentioning that she audited classes at the University of Copenhagen between 1910 and 1912. However, in their groundbreaking biographies of Larsen, Larson and Davis were unconvinced. Having noted that Larsen’s passport records contained no reference to Denmark, and that the University of Copenhagen holds no fi les to verify that she attended classes, Larson concluded that “her Denmark years are a total fabrication, a fancy embroidery upon the tragedy of her early life” as the abandoned daughter of a white Danish mother.10 A year later, Davis declared that “throughout her public life [Larsen] displayed little intimate or fi rsthand knowledge of [Denmark], even though she could speak and read Danish.”11 Davis was similarly

Den Sorte

211

doubtful when discussing Larsen’s fi rst two publications, “Three Scandinavian Games” and “Danish Fun,” both published in the Brownies’ Book in 1920. According to Larsen herself, these short pieces drew on what she termed her “pleasant memories of my childish days in Denmark.”12 For Davis, though, these early publications had more to do with Larsen’s life-long tendency to formulate “public fictions of her past” as “not merely a ‘mulatto,’ but one who had grown up in a white, foreign country”—a European background that, according to Davis, enabled Larsen to elevate herself above the African American masses.13 Yet even as Larsen’s biographers were dismissing her Danish connections, Gilroy was wondering aloud, “What of Nella Larsen and Denmark?” As it turned out, in 1997 George Hutchinson redirected Larsen scholarship in a Black Atlantic direction by providing evidence that Larsen did spend time in Denmark. In his essay, “Nella Larsen and the Veil of Race,” Hutchinson began by suggesting that “the American racial ideology that renders biracial subjectivity invisible, untenable, or fraudulent” is reproduced in Larson and Davis’ biographies—books that “purport to show that Larsen had little connection with her Danish mother and fantasized her relationship to Danish culture to distinguish herself from other blacks.”14 Hutchinson pointed out that, at the turn of the century, Americans did not need passports to travel to Denmark. He cited ship passenger records located in Copenhagen and Washington D.C. which demonstrate that Larsen visited Denmark at least twice. Mary Larsen, her six year-old daughter “Nelly,” and Nelly’s white half-sister Anna departed Copenhagen for the United States on the S.S. Norge in April 1898 (what remains uncertain is how long the emigrant mother and her daughters were back in Denmark before this return trip to the U.S.). Then, in January 1909, the teenaged Nella traveled alone from Copenhagen back to New York, a journey which suggests that she had spent at least some of the preceding six months (since leaving Fisk Normal School the previous June) in Denmark. Hutchinson concluded: “The effect of discounting Larsen’s Danish experience and Danish background and her connection to her mother is to subordinate her mature story of her life to a story that cannot accommodate the possibility of someone being both African American and Danish American.”15 Following Hutchinson’s pioneering research (culminating in his mammoth 2006 biography, In Search of Nella Larsen, which explored in considerable detail Larsen’s links to Denmark) and informed by transnational models like Gilroy’s Black Atlantic, Larsen scholarship is finally being recast by critics who focus on the Afro-Danish elements of Larsen’s life and fiction. In 2009, Arne Lunde and Anna Stenport, U.S.-based scholars in Scandinavian studies, published an essay entitled “Helga Crane’s Copenhagen: Denmark, Colonialism, and Transnational Identity in Nella Larsen’s Quicksand.” Lunde and Stenport argue that Quicksand needs to be reconsidered in relation to such Scandinavian modernists as Jens Peter Jacobsen and Henrik Ibsen, and observe that “Larsen’s absence thus far

212 Martyn Bone from even a loose defi nition of a ‘Scandinavian-American canon’—one that includes works by Ole Rølvaag, Vilhelm Moberg, and even Willa Cather— seems especially glaring.” Lunde and Stenport also excavate the subtle ways in which Quicksand “evokes both Denmark’s historical role in the global economy of the slave trade and its hidden racism.”16 It is also notable that those critics previously dubious about Larsen’s claims to a partly Danish identity have changed tack. In his revised introduction to the 2001 edition of The Complete Fiction of Nella Larsen, Charles Larson magnanimously acknowledged that Hutchinson’s research invalidated his own argument that Larsen had never visited Denmark.17 In her introduction to the 2002 Penguin Classics edition of Quicksand, Thadious Davis emphasizes that “A major part of Nella Larsen’s transnational identity . . . was invested . . . in her Danish heritage.”18 In the spirit of this revisionary scholarship, the next section will discuss in some detail Larsen’s literary geography of Copenhagen in five key chapters of Quicksand.

“WE DON’T THINK OF THESE THINGS HERE”: RACE AND COLONIALISM IN QUICKSAND’S COPENHAGEN Paul Gilroy posits that “[t]he history of the black Atlantic [is] crisscrossed by the movements of black people . . . engaged in various struggles towards emancipation, autonomy, and citizenship.” For Gilroy, this history of black struggle, and the oceanic geography of the Black Atlantic itself, is vividly expressed in “the image of ships in motion across the spaces between Europe, America, Africa, and the Caribbean.”19 Embarking on her own Atlantic crossing from New York to Copenhagen, Helga Crane not only seeks emancipation and autonomy from U.S. racial classifications, but yearns to escape “race” altogether: “Helga was a good sailor . . . even the two rough days found her on deck, reveling like a released bird in her returned feeling of happiness and freedom, that blessed sense of belonging to herself alone and not to a race.”20 However, Helga’s vision of an autonomous subjectivity denuded of racial and national markers proves to be unrealistic. Gilroy observes that Black Atlantic ships “were mobile elements that stood for the shifting spaces in between the fi xed places that they connected.”21 But for all Helga’s transnational mobility, her identity continues to be subject to the national racial ideologies of the “fi xed places” between which she oscillates—the United States and Denmark. To the degree that Helga does achieve a sense of “freedom” during her transatlantic passage, it is because the Scandinavian-American liner’s “mobile” social relations are more Scandinavian than American. On her fi rst evening aboard, Helga is invited to dine with the ship’s “purser, a man grown old in the service of the Scandinavian-American Line, [who] remembered her as the little dark girl who had crossed with her mother years

Den Sorte

213

ago.” The purser’s insistence that Helga “must sit at his table” contrasts starkly with the ways in which Helga’s designated status as “Negro” or “mulatto” precluded such social mixing in the United States (most vividly perhaps during the Jim Crow train journey that took Helga from Naxos to Chicago). 22 Indeed, the scene echoes Larsen’s own experience on the S.S. C.F. Tietgen, the ship that carried her back from Copenhagen to New York in 1909. Though Nella’s nationality was listed in the ship manifest as American, “the ship’s surgeon, Dr. C. A. Larsen, identified her ‘race or people’ as ‘Scandinavian,’ despite explicit instructions that anyone with a visible ‘admixture of Negro blood’ was to be listed as ‘African (black).” Hutchinson speculates that Dr Larsen “felt that identifying [Nella] Larsen as African was absurd.”23 In Quicksand, the purser’s conviviality, despite Helga’s visibly “dark” skin, similarly departs from the absurdity of U.S. racial categories and their attendant social regulations. Hutchinson’s observation that Quicksand “conveys many details about Copenhagen . . . that no American could have picked up without experience” is fairly obvious to a Danish (or Denmark-based) reader of the novel. 24 We witness Helga “dodging successfully the innumerable bicycles like a true Copenhagener” and “loitering on the long bridge which spanned the placid lakes”25 —scenes which remain familiar to contemporary life in the city, but which in the 1920s could not easily have been gleaned by an author then living in Harlem. There are references to numerous actual landmarks and institutions, including the royal residence at Amalienborg; the department store Magasin du Nord, reopened in a newly renovated building near Kongens Nytorv in the late 1890s; the Landmandsbank, which was then (as it is now, renamed Danske Bank) one of the country’s largest banks; the national newspaper Politiken, well known in the early twentieth century for its engagement with cultural debates; and Marie Kirkeplads, a small and relatively obscure row of apartment buildings where Helga resides with her aunt and uncle, Katrina and Poul Dahl. However, while relocating to Denmark enables Helga to escape the crucible of race in the United States, she experiences other forms of racism in Copenhagen. Following her arrival, Helga is quick to recognize why the Dahls dress her up in outlandish costumes and colors: they believe that by parading Helga as an “exotic, almost savage” curiosity, they can advance their own status in Copenhagen society. Though “Helga herself felt like nothing so much as some new and strange species of pet dog being proudly exhibited,” she accedes to the Dahls’ primitivist fantasies because their bourgeois lifestyle provides “the things which money could give, leisure, attention, beautiful surroundings. Things. Things. Things.”26 According to Hazel Carby, in such scenes “Larsen displaced to Europe an issue of central concern to the intellectuals of the Harlem Renaissance: white fascination with the ‘exotic’ and the ‘primitive.’”27 The problem with this argument is that Carby herself displaces back to a U.S. domestic context the transatlantic dissemination of African American culture throughout Europe during

214 Martyn Bone the Jazz Age, not least the sexualized fascination with black women’s bodies epitomized by Josephine Baker’s sensational success in Paris. Rather than refracting the Copenhagen chapters of Quicksand through the lens of 1920s Harlem, we would do well to consider the more specific historical contours of Larsen’s relationship to, and literary representation of, Denmark in the early twentieth century. From this more local and historical perspective, Helga’s visit to “the great Circus” is of particular interest. In her Danish friends’ rapturous response to the African American performers who “danced and cavorted [as] they sang in the English of America an old rag-time song,” Helga sees reflected their view of her as an exotic primitive. If it is not an epiphany exactly—as we have already seen, Helga is conscious of and complicit in her own exoticization by Danes—this visit to the Circus reawakens “[h]er old unhappy questioning mood,” a process that culminates in her return to Harlem. Yet Helga herself believes that the “American Negroes” on stage reflect and reveal a shameful “savage” self “hidden away” inside her. 28 In both the United States and Denmark, Helga is so often exposed to essentialist conceits about black exoticism and primitivism that, for all her penetrating awareness of how such conceits operate, she fi nds it hard to resist internalizing them.29 Larsen may well have based Helga’s trips to “the Circus” on her own visits to Cirkusbygningen (“The Circus Building”), which was built near Copenhagen’s town hall square in 1885–1886. Helga recognizes the “old rag-time song” as “Everybody Gives Me Good Advice” because she “remembered hearing [it] as a child.”30 It is quite possible that Larsen herself saw and heard that very song performed by African American entertainers in Copenhagen during her late teen years. Hutchinson notes that the famous African American double act of Johnson and Dean, which performed at Cirkusbygningen in 1909 (the year that Larsen sailed from Copenhagen back to New York), were heavily criticized upon returning to the United States for losing touch with the latest trends and continuing to perform old-fashioned “coon songs.”31 Even in 1909, “Everybody Gives Me Good Advice” was four years old: if eighteen-year-old Nella Larsen did see a show at Cirkusbygningen featuring Johnson and Dean or other African American performers, she would have been aware—in contrast to the white Danes in the audience—that their repertoire was regarded as passé in Chicago and New York. Notably, in Quicksand Helga is well aware that the African American performers’ repertoire is replete with songs that are “old, all of them old, but new and strange to that audience.” Yet Helga seems unable to overcome her initial fear that the African American performers have “shamed, betrayed” her by inviting the “enchanted” and “howl[ing]” Danish audience to “look upon something in her which she had hidden away and wanted to forget.” She “return[s] again and again to the Circus, always alone, gazing intently and solemnly at the gesticulating black figures.” For all her “ironical and silently speculative” observation, Helga never seems

Den Sorte

215

to consider the possibility that, rather than revealing her own supposedly “savage” racial essence, the “cavorting Negroes” are performing “race”— exaggerating their bodily movements to subvert and exploit Danish preconceptions about black primitivism for their own fi nancial gain.32 Though Helga encounters forms of racism in both the United States and Denmark, there are certain key differences between U.S. and Danish racial ideologies. These differences can be related to the contrasting histories of slavery and colonialism in the United States and Denmark. Until the abolition of the transatlantic slave trade, the United States and Denmark were both among the major slave-trading powers. But whereas the U.S. introduced thousands of African slaves to its own soil and developed “New World plantation colonialism” within its own borders,33 Denmark confined its form of racial slavery to three small Caribbean islands collectively known as the Danish West Indies. Even after the emancipation of slaves in the Vestindien in 1846 and the abolition of slavery in 1848, few “black Danes” traveled to Denmark itself, and when they did, such journeys were usually bound up with Copenhagen’s continuing colonial power over the Danish West Indies. Still, in the first decade of the twentieth century “it became increasingly common for Copenhagen families to employ African servants and nannies, some from the West Indies, which presumably led to a fairly substantial presence, clearly coded in terms of class, of Danes of color in the city.”34 According to Lunde and Stenport, this history of Danish slavery and colonialism constitutes “a structuring absence” in Quicksand that “haunt[s] the text in ways that have not been sufficiently interrogated.”35 But how can Danish slavery and colonialism structure a novel which never directly mentions them? We might consider here Hutchinson’s persuasive argument that “although [Quicksand] seems to be set in the 1920s, Larsen’s physical descriptions of [Copenhagen] pertain to an earlier decade” when Larsen herself was in the city.36 If we accept this view that Quicksand’s Copenhagen (at least partly) depicts the period between 1908 and 1912, then we may also say that Helga experiences the city before Denmark sold the Danish West Indies to the United States in 1917. Yet whereas Helga regularly rails against the legacy of slavery in the contemporary United States, she remains notably silent about Denmark’s status as a former slave-trading nation and present-day colonial power. This is understandable to the extent to which Copenhagen at the time was so conspicuously white. However, it is precisely the striking—and structuring— absence of other black Danes that accentuates Helga’s own (dubiously) privileged status in Copenhagen’s bourgeoisie society as the supposedly singular black person: “Den Sorte” (“the black”) as she is “freely, audibly” designated when she appears on the streets of the city.37 The use of the defi nite rather than indefi nite article is significant because it suggests that Helga is being figured as racially singular and unique, despite the presence of other blacks in early twentieth-century Copenhagen, as well as elsewhere in the Danish colonial empire of that period.38

216 Martyn Bone While Helga’s apparent uniqueness (along with her relatively light skin color) facilitates her social acceptance, it also ensures that she will always remain the Other. At one point, Katrina Dahl invokes her own native-born background to deny Helga’s claim to a matrilineal Danish identity—even though this “exotic” young woman is her own niece: “Oh, I’m an old married lady, and a Dane. But . . . you’re a foreigner, and different.” To the wider group of well-off white women who constitute Copenhagen society, Helga simply “wasn’t one of them. She didn’t at all count.”39 This ambiguity underlying Danish attitudes towards race recurs throughout the Copenhagen section. On the one hand, there is a willingness to accept and even accentuate Helga’s status as “black” or “mulatto” because she is ostensibly unique in white Copenhagen, and has filial ties to Denmark that are acknowledged and accepted to varying degrees. On the other hand, there is a permeating silence about the presence of other black Danes in and beyond the colonial center. Such ambiguity is especially apparent during a conversation between Helga and Katrina at the fashionable Hotel Vivili. When Katrina blithely broaches “the desirability of Helga’s making a good marriage,” the narrative again suggests that Danes do not see mixed-race marriage and miscegenation as taboos in the way that so many Americans (blacks as well as whites) of Helga’s acquaintance do. Indeed, a “shocked” Helga fi nds it hard to disavow such U.S. racial attitudes herself: “Oh, Aunt, I couldn’t! I mean, there’s nobody here for me to marry,” Helga exclaims, by which she means there are no other black bodies, at least not in the Dahls’ bourgeois circles, and as though she has no legitimate claim on a Danish identity—or a Danish husband. When the unruffled Katrina responds by rolling off a litany of suitably wealthy bachelors from Copenhagen and even Aalborg (hundreds of miles away in Jutland), Helga explicitly invokes her own “bitter experience” as the product of a marriage “between races” before insistently asking her aunt whether she “didn’t think, really, that miscegenation was wrong, in fact as well as principle.”40 Initially, Katrina implies that her own liberal attitude is metonymic of a national tolerance toward mixed-race marriages: “We don’t think of these things here.” However, Katrina adds a telling qualification: “Not in connection with individuals, at least.”41 Katrina thus acknowledges that Danes’ ostensibly laissez-faire attitude towards interracial relationships extends only to cases involving “individuals.” This is striking given that in the conspicuous absence of black Danes within the colonial power’s national borders, and especially within Copenhagen’s bourgeois society, Helga is (or appears to be) the individual case, the singular “Sorte.” Katrina’s qualification admits, albeit obtusely, that were Denmark subject to the mass presence of “Negroes” and/ or “mulattoes”—as in the Danish West Indies, or within the United States— miscegenation might be a different matter (of “fact as well as principle”) altogether. Katrina’s husband subsequently makes this fairly explicit. Poul Dahl recognizes that Helga’s rejection of a marriage proposal from the famous painter Axel Olsen is bound up with her personal experience of the taboos

Den Sorte

217

against mixed-race marriage and miscegenation in the United States: “Come now, Helga, it isn’t this foolishness about race. Not here in Denmark.” However, even as Poul infers that Helga has internalized U.S. racial ideology, he subtly amplifies his wife’s implication that Copenhagen society can tolerate marriage across the color line because Helga’s case is so exceptional, and thus unthreatening: “It isn’t . . . as if there were hundreds of mulattoes here. That, I can understand, might make it a little different. But there’s only you. You’re unique here, don’t you see?”42 Building on Randi Marselis’ observation that “‘Race’ and ‘racism’ have simply not been seen as relevant in the Nordic countries,” Bolette Blaagaard argues that such wilfully ignorant refusals to acknowledge the operation of racial ideology are bound up with “national self-conceptions of the Nordic countries as not having the ‘burden of guilt’ which is often associated with whiteness in other contexts.” Blaagaard notes that “[i]t is not common knowledge [among Danes] that Denmark was the seventh largest slave-trading nation during colonial times; the US being the sixth.”43 I would suggest that it is precisely a refusal to recognize the guilty burden of Danish colonial history, and to acknowledge one’s own possessive investment in whiteness, that allows Poul Dahl to claim that “it isn’t this foolishness about race. Not here in Denmark.” The Dahls’ combined unwillingness to register explicitly the social reality of race and racism (including their own unexamined and privileged status as white) indicates how slavery and colonialism remain hidden by and within the discourse of Danes more generally throughout Helga’s two years in Copenhagen. It is only during these personal conversations with the Dahls, and prompted by Helga’s hybrid status as both family member and foreign Other, that the structural absence of Denmark’s racialized history can be glimpsed, in elusive and allusive forms. The Dahls’ oblique acknowledgement that Danes can accept racial difference and even interracial marriage so long as it is confi ned to “individual” or “unique” cases might also give us pause to reconsider Helga’s earlier encounters with seemingly liberal Danish attitudes toward her racial identity. Might it be that the ship purser who insisted that Helga join him for dinner during her transatlantic passage from New York was only willing to socialize with Helga because of her distinctive individual status “as the little dark girl who had crossed with her mother years ago”? Here it becomes necessary to recognize that not only race, ethnicity and nationality but also class mediates Helga’s relationships with native Danes. It would be fallacious to claim that Helga demonstrates solidarity with the workingclass—as we have seen, she is too enamored of “things” and the Dahls’ bourgeois lifestyle for that. Moreover, her own relatively privileged class status in the Dahls’ household at Marie Kirkeplads means that she never encounters or is associated with the “small, but nevertheless present, group of servant blacks of African or Afro-Caribbean descent” in early twentiethcentury Copenhagen.44 Still, Helga does demonstrate a willingness to confer with and defer to lower-class white Danes. While Helga’s interactions

218 Martyn Bone with the Dahls’ maid Marie are largely determined by their mistress-servant relationship (though even this marks a striking inversion of the usual racialized structure of such relationships in the United States), she turns to Marie for confi rmation that Axel Olsen’s exoticized portrait “wasn’t . . . herself at all, but some disgusting sensual creature with her features.”45 The most memorable of Helga’s encounters with lower-class Danes occurs outside the Dahls’ sphere of influence during one of Helga’s walks through the center of the city: There was also the Gammelstrand, the congregating-place of the vendors of fish, where daily was enacted a spirited and interesting scene between sellers and buyers, and where Helga’s appearance always roused lively and audible, but friendly, interest, long after she became in other parts of the city an accepted curiosity. Here it was that one day an old countrywoman asked her to what manner of mankind she belonged and at Helga’s replying: “I’m a Negro,” had become indignant, retorting angrily that, just because she was old and a countrywoman she could not be so easily fooled, for she knew as well as everyone else that Negroes were black and had woolly hair.46 This scene is quite likely based on Larsen’s own encounters with the fiskerkoner (fishwives) from Skovshoved, north of Copenhagen, who sold their wares at Gammel Strand, located alongside Slotsholmen canal. It would be easy enough to read the encounter as merely a comic play on the fishwife’s unworldly ignorance about the possibility that a “Negro” can (especially according to U.S. racial classifications) be light-skinned or have straight hair. Yet the scene reveals the limits of racialized thinking more generally. The fishwife’s rudimentary grasp of “race”—mediated perhaps by Denmark’s status as a colonial power, and her class position as an uneducated rural woman—helps lay bare the crudity and absurdity that also lurks beneath the supposedly more sophisticated attempts of the Copenhagen bourgeoisie to define Helga according to essentialist notions of blackness. More directly, however, the old woman is a foil for the revelation that Helga herself still holds to and recapitulates the binary racial categories that she so struggled against in the United States. By telling the fishwife “I’m a Negro,” Helga elides her Danish maternal heritage once again, and abnegates the broader biracial and transnational dimensions of her identity.47

FRØKKEN CRANE GOES TO NØRREBRONX: “NEW DANES” AND “DANISH VALUES” IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY In this third and fi nal section, I want to explore the proposition that Larsen’s life and fiction contains valuable lessons for thinking more specifically about Danish identity today. Larsen’s biography and her debut novel

Den Sorte

219

generate defi nitions of danskhed (Danishness) that clearly diverge from the traditional norm; one might see Quicksand as a prescient text that, in depicting Helga Crane’s quandaries, anticipates many of the dilemmas that face immigrants to Denmark today. While it might seem foolhardy to figure a novel written in English as an example of Danish literature, Helga’s story is likely to have more resonance for nydanskere (“new Danes”) than many Danish-language novels from the same period. In an essay published in Politiken in April 2005, Ole Kühl discussed how certain Danish writers of the 1920s responded in deeply racist fashion to the “initial phase” of jazz culture in Copenhagen. Kühl posited that “Danish literary research” would prefer that Johannes V. Jensen’s “racist observations” about African American jazz culture were forgotten; he noted too that notions of primitive, sexualized blackness saturated novels like Niels Vang’s Jazzdjævlen [The Jazz Devil] (1920) and Aase Hansen’s Ebba Berings Studentertid [Ebba Bering’s Student Life] (1929). For Kühl, such fascination with and yet fear of the foreign anticipated contemporary “Danes’ encounter with the stranger.”48 But Larsen too published a 1920s novel which depicts the Jazz Age in Denmark (though conflated, as we have seen, with the Copenhagen of Larsen’s own experience between 1908 and 1912). The difference is that in Quicksand the arrival in Denmark of jazz music and the related rise of racialized exoticism and primitivism is filtered through the consciousness of a protagonist who is both (like the audience at Cirkusbygningen) Danish by parentage and (like the performers on stage) African American. In other words, Helga is a kind of Dane, and yet also an embodiment of Kühl’s “stranger”—or in Katrina Dahl’s term, “foreigner.” If at a basic level Helga’s experiences can be said to anticipate contemporary Danes’ encounter with the foreigner, then they also, in a more complex and uncanny fashion, foreshadow the peculiar double consciousness of today’s “new Danes”: non-white immigrants who are citizens or legal residents of Denmark, yet who remain marked as foreign or other (i.e., “new”). That Quicksand might provide insights into the changing demographics of contemporary Denmark was fi rst noted by Clarice Scott in a 1997 review of the novel for Djembe, an Anglophone multicultural magazine based in Copenhagen. Scott, an African American living in Denmark, began by remarking on the substantial Afro-Danish population within the country’s own borders (a phenomenon which distinguishes contemporary Denmark from the colonial era, when, as we have seen, most Afro-Danes remained in the Caribbean periphery): “Many people of African descent living in Denmark are married to or in relationships with Danes. The vast majority of the off-spring of these relationships are what? ‘Sorte’? ‘Brune’? ‘Negre’? Afro-Scandinavians? Black Danes?” In the context of these vital but as yet unresolved questions concerning (bi)racial and (trans)national identity, Scott identified Quicksand as “strikingly contemporary” for its depiction of Helga’s “mixed cultural heritage, a subject that is more relevant than ever in modern Danish society.”49

220

Martyn Bone

In the years since Scott’s review appeared, Denmark has become more multicultural as the immigrant population has continued to rise (albeit modestly in comparison with some other European countries, not least next-door neighbor Sweden). Not coincidentally, however, Denmark has also experienced the rapid rise of the anti-immigrant Dansk Folkeparti, or Danish People’s Party, to a position of real political clout as the support party—especially on immigrant policy—of the center-right coalition government that ruled Denmark between 2001 and 2011. The success of the Danish People’s Party is the most obvious manifestation of a broader tendency toward racially inflected anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim sentiment in Danish society. There are now approximately two hundred thousand Muslims in Denmark (about four per cent of the population), as a fi rst wave of labor migrants from Turkey has been supplemented by more recent political refugees from the Middle East and North Africa. 50 As Jytte Klausen has noted, the nativist rhetoric of the Danish People’s Party co-founder and former leader, Pia Kjærsgaard, frequently conflates immigrants with Muslims. 51 One immediate upshot of the Muhammad cartoon crisis of January and February 2006, when protests against the cartoons (published some four months earlier in the Danish newspaper Jyllands Posten) turned violent in Muslim countries across Africa, the Middle East, and Asia, was a seventeen-fold increase in applications for membership of the Danish People’s Party. However, the globalization of the cartoon crisis did alert at least some sections of the international media that for some years now Denmark “has been moving in the direction of xenophobia and racism—especially towards its Muslim inhabitants.”52 I lived and worked in Copenhagen for all but one year between June 1999 and January 2011. For most of this period, I was based in Nørrebro, a traditionally working-class neighborhood founded in the late nineteenthcentury, and very likely a model for the “the so-called poor sections” that Helga Crane visits in Quicksand. For almost a century, Nørrebro was populated entirely by ethnic Danes. In the last quarter century, however, the neighborhood has experienced an influx of immigrants and refugees from Somalia, Turkey, Pakistan, Iraq, and elsewhere; simultaneously, Nørrebro has been gentrified by young professionals, both native and foreign, like me. Due to these changing demographics and sporadic cases of violence involving second-generation immigrant youths, Nørrebro is now sometimes referred to in the popular media as “Nørrebronx.” Eighty years earlier, Larsen’s Helga compared the inner-city “poverty” of Copenhagen and New York; however, Helga concluded that Copenhagen’s “so-called poor sections” are actually quite salubrious (“no tatters and rags, no beggars”), and therefore not much like inner-city New York at all.53 The contemporary associations between Copenhagen and New York emanating from the term “Nørrebronx” are more complicated. In some cases, usage of the term plays invidiously upon ideas of racial otherness and ghettoization. Whereas Helga perceived Copenhagen’s “poor sections” as

Den Sorte

221

a locus of dazzling whiteness (“the door steps were always white from constant scrubbings”), references to “Nørrebronx” in today’s Danish tabloid newspapers depict a site of racial darkness by insidiously connecting the increasingly non-white immigrant population of Nørrebro with the African American and Hispanic population of the Bronx. Yet the neighborhood’s second-generation immigrants have knowingly embraced and (re) defi ned “Nørrebronx” in ways that can be seen as a kind of signifying on the conventional negative connotations of racialized ghettoization. The term adorns baseball caps and hooded tops in immigrant-owned stores, and has become part of the local vocabulary. 54 I taught Quicksand at the University of Copenhagen four times between 2004 and 2010. The novel sometimes seemed to carry an extra charge in a political climate where sections of the mainstream media, as well as leading figures from the Conservative Party as well as the Danish People’s Party, depicted non-white immigrants in neighborhoods like Nørrebro as a threat to national identity, and to supposedly traditional “danske værdier” (“Danish values”) which, as Klausen has noted, “are in fact recent inventions.”55 In fall 2005, I included Quicksand in an American literature survey course for fi rst-year undergraduate students. It quickly became apparent during class discussion that the students knew little about Denmark’s history of slavery and colonialism. One student, Maria, echoed (or rather anticipated) Marselis and Blaagaard’s observations about the whitewashing of Nordic national identities by remarking that “most Danes do not consider race and colonialism as aspects of Danish history. . . . We Danes rarely consider the fact that our own forefathers played a somewhat significant part in slave trade, [yet] we instantly recognize [the] slave trade as a horribly large part of U.S. history.”56 But if most students were unwilling or unable to talk about Danish colonialism and racial attitudes in the early twentieth century, this had the effect of shifting our focus to Denmark in the early twenty-fi rst century—an increasingly multicultural Denmark which they could debate more easily. As if to prove Scott’s point about Quicksand’s relevance to contemporary, multicultural Denmark, an Afro-Danish student, Pamela, identified parallels between Helga’s experiences and her own. Born in Uganda but married to a native Dane, Pamela noted how in Quicksand “many pedestrians . . . stopped to stare at [Helga,] the queer dark creature strange to their city,” and recounted how she too had been “met by such curiosity both by young and old alike.”57 Pamela stopped short of saying that she has been exoticized (or that she has experienced explicit racism); however, Helga’s experiences are echoed by an enduring tendency in Danish culture to imagine blacks as exotics and primitives. 58 To be sure, one should recognize that there are limits to any comparison of Helga’s experiences with those of contemporary immigrants in Denmark. Firstly, and as I have already argued, Helga’s hyper-visibility derives from her (supposed) status as the singular “Sorte” on the streets of Copenhagen;

222

Martyn Bone

by contrast, non-white immigrants today are far more numerous. Secondly, while Clarice Scott is right to emphasize that many Afro-Danes have personal and familial ties to the country, most contemporary immigrants do not. The alienation, even ostracization, experienced by many Middle Eastern, Asian and African immigrants, as well as their “second-generation” children, does not obviously tally with Helga’s relatively privileged situation as an individual inducted into Copenhagen society by members of her own family. Ane, a student in my spring 2010 seminar, “Twentieth Century African American Women’s Fiction,” observed that “I did not in fact make this connection [between Helga’s experience and that of immigrants today], because Helga’s situation in the novel is so unusual . . . She is welcomed because she has a function to her Danish relatives and the way she is treated in every material way seems comfortable and leisurely, which are not exactly terms one would usually use when thinking of immigrants of today.” Ane’s assessment amplifies the Dahls’ own obtuse acknowledgement that Helga can be tolerated and even celebrated in Copenhagen society because she is a “unique” (or as Ane puts it, “unusual”) case, but that if she were part of a larger, lower-class immigrant group, her situation might be rather different. In fall 2005, Maria made an even fi rmer distinction between Copenhageners’ relatively favorable response to Helga, and Danish reactions to immigrants today: “Helga Crane is not necessarily perceived in a suspicious or negative manner by her Danish relatives/associates, but rather as someone interesting and exotic because of her appearance and background. Today’s immigrants, on the other hand, are often viewed with more suspicion and in a very negative manner—simply because of skin color or religion.” Maria’s comment brings me to my third and fi nal qualification about the relevance of Quicksand to contemporary Denmark: resistance to immigrants today is bound up with Islamophobia. This does not mean that religion has trumped race as the primary battleground of national identity: after all, whether Muslim immigrants come from Turkey, Pakistan, Iraq or Somalia, they are all identifiable as different—as “new Danes”—because they are not “white.” The immigration debate is often (mostly covertly, sometimes overtly) about skin color and religion. Indeed, even as my two seminar classes discussed Quicksand in November 2005, the Muhammad cartoon controversy was simmering prior to its dramatic and deadly expansion on to the global stage two months later. Still, despite the historical differences between Denmark in 1928 (or 1908–1912) and now, Quicksand has a prescient and profound relevance for a wide range of citizens and residents of Denmark today. Whether those people identify or are identified as “afro danskere” (Afro-Danes), “danske muslimer” (“Danish Muslims”) or “perker” (a term roughly equivalent to the Anglophone slur “Paki,” and which became the subject of heated political and media debate in early 2009), they share the experience of having “mixed cultural heritage” that is often seen as a challenge or threat to

Den Sorte

223

“Danishness.”59 In a period when “new Danes” are expected to integrate themselves into society by passing stringent formal examinations60 and learning allegedly long-established “Danish values,” it seems apt that we already have an eighty-year-old novel written in another language which dissects a mixed cultural heritage that is both Danish and non-Danish, and that explores the profound ambiguities of immigrant life in Copenhagen. How refreshing it might be for both new and old Danes to read a novel which challenges the assumption that “Danish literature”—or to put it less polemically, “literature about Denmark”—must be written in Danish, by native-born Danes. However, Larsen remains little known in Denmark. It is fully a century since she lived in Copenhagen, and more than eighty years since Quicksand’s original publication, yet the novel still awaits its first Danish translation. Given the tension between dubiously defi ned “Danish values” and Denmark’s increasingly multicultural demographic makeup, now would be an ideal time to rectify this situation. NOTES 1. Paul Gilroy, The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness (London: Verso, 1993), 18. 2. Fuller’s introduction to a 1971 edition of Passing and Cromwell Hill’s introduction to a 1971 edition of Quicksand are quoted in Thadious Davis, Nella Larsen, Novelist of the Harlem Renaissance: A Woman’s Life Unveiled (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1994), xiv. 3. Fullinwinder’s The Mind and Mood of Black America (1969) is quoted in Davis, Nella Larsen, 356. 4. Houston A. Baker, Jr., Workings of the Spirit: The Poetics of Afro-American Women’s Writing (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), 23, 35–36. 5. Quoted in Davis, Nella Larsen, xviii. 6. F. James Davis, Who is Black? One Nation’s Defi nition (Philadelphia: Pennsylvania University Press, 1991), 5. 7. Nella Larsen, Quicksand, edited and with an introduction by Thadious M. Davis (New York: Penguin Classics, 2002), 26. All subsequent references to Quicksand will be to this edition. 8. Echoing Baker, Farah Jasmine Griffi n complains that Larsen’s novel features “no mention of a [black southern] folk culture” and that “There are no ancestors in Quicksand.” See Griffi n, “Who Set You Flowin’?”: The AfricanAmerican Migration Narrative (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 160, 155. 9. Quoted in Davis, Nella Larsen, 67. 10. Charles Larson, Invisible Darkness: Jean Toomer and Nella Larsen (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1993), 189. 11. Davis, Nella Larsen, 68–69. 12. Larsen, “Danish Fun,” quoted in Davis, Nella Larsen, 138. 13. Davis, Nella Larsen, 140–41. 14. Hutchinson, “Nella Larsen and the Veil of Race,” American Literary History 9 (Summer 1997): 330. 15. Hutchinson, “Veil of Race,” 339. 16. Arne Lunde and Anna Westerstahl Stenport, “Helga Crane’s Copenhagen: Denmark, Colonialism, and Transnational Identity in Nella Larsen’s

224

17. 18.

19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

27. 28. 29.

30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38.

Martyn Bone Quicksand,” Comparative Literature 60 (2008): 239. An earlier version of this article was presented at the 2006 University of Copenhagen conference “Denmark and the Black Atlantic,” which I co-organized. Hutchinson gave a keynote address entitled “Nella Larsen’s Denmark.” Charles Larson, introduction to The Complete Fiction of Nella Larsen (New York: Anchor, 2001), xx–xxi. Davis, introduction to Quicksand, ix. In the endnotes, Davis maps (not always accurately) Quicksand’s depiction of Copenhagen: for example, she mistakenly locates Marie Kirkeplads in “Copenhagen’s Latin Quarter” (146). Gilroy, The Black Atlantic, 16, 4. Larsen, Quicksand, 66. Gilroy, The Black Atlantic, 16. Larsen, Quicksand, 65. Hutchinson, In Search of Nella Larsen, 66. Hutchinson, “Veil of Race,” 338. Larsen, Quicksand, 78. Larsen, Quicksand, 72, 71, 69. One might add that Helga accrues these material benefits partly due to her mixed racial background: aunt Katrina can figure Helga as suited to “exotic things” because her “lovely brown skin” (70) does not go beyond the pale (so to speak) of Eurocentric notions of beauty. Hazel V. Carby, Reconstructing Womanhood: The Emergence of the AfroAmerican Woman Novelist (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), 171–72. Larsen, Quicksand, 85. In this regard, the scene at Cirkusbygningen recalls Helga’s experience at the Harlem nightclub, where she is shocked to discover herself—despite trying to remain “singularly apart from it all”—becoming “drugged, lifted, sustained, by the extraordinary music, blown out, ripped out, beaten out, by the joyous, wild, murky orchestra.” As in Copenhagen, Helga fears that African American music and dance reveal a (racialized, primitive) “jungle creature” hidden beneath her cool, distant exterior (Quicksand, 61). Larsen, Quicksand, 84. Hutchinson, In Search of Nella Larsen, 72. Larsen, Quicksand, 84–85. Jon Smith and Deborah Cohn, “Introduction: Uncanny Hybridities,” in Look Away! The U.S. South in New World Studies, eds. Smith and Cohn (Durham: Duke University Press, 2004), 2. Lunde and Stenport, “Helga Crane’s Copenhagen,” 232. Lunde and Stenport, “Helga Crane’s Copenhagen,” 229. Hutchinson, In Search of Nella Larsen, 69. Larsen, Quicksand, 75. It is worth stressing here that Helga’s supposedly unique identity is emphasized (or rhetorically effected) in the rather odd linguistic construction “Den Sorte.” “Den” is the singular (common) defi nite article which is employed—in a deviation from the enclitic defi nite article more commonly used in Danish—when an adjective appears between the article and the noun. Initially, then, Larsen’s use of “Den” may seem grammatically erroneous if we take “Sorte” to be operating as the noun (“the black”), especially when we also consider that in the early twentieth century the commonly used noun would have been “neger” (roughly equivalent to “Negro”). Alternatively, if “Den” is being used as the non-enclitic defi nite article because “Sorte” is the adjective, then the phrase is missing the noun (for example, “Den sorte kvinde”—“the

Den Sorte

39. 40. 41. 42. 43.

44. 45. 46. 47.

48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54.

55.

225

black woman”—or “Den sorte person”—“the black person”). One might argue, however, that “Sorte” here operates as both noun and adjective: Helga is being designated as both “the black woman” and “the black woman.” Ultimately, though, the key point is that Helga is designated as “the black” (“Den Sorte”) rather than “a black” (“en neger”). Larsen, Quicksand, 70, 72. Larsen, Quicksand, 79–80. Larsen, Quicksand, 80. Larsen, Quicksand, 92. Bolette Blaagaard, “Remembering Nordic Colonialism: Danish Cultural Memory in Journalistic Practice,” in Serena Maurer, Kristín Loftsdóttir, and Lars Jensen, eds., KULT 7 (Nordic Colonial Mind) (2010), 102, retrieved March 11, 2011 from http://www.postkolonial.dk/artikler/BB_remembering_nordic_colonialism.pdf. Lunde and Stenport, “Helga Crane’s Copenhagen,” 236. Larsen, Quicksand, 91. Larsen, Quicksand, 78. Helga previously repressed her white matrilineal identity while living in Harlem, on the recommendation of Jeanette Hayes-Rore: “I wouldn’t mention that my people are white, if I were you. Colored people won’t understand it. . . . I’ll just tell Anne [Grey] that you’re a friend of mine whose mother’s dead” (44). Ole Kühl, “Da jazzen kom til byen,” Politiken, April 17, 2005, section 4, 7–8 (my translation). Clarice Scott, “Black, White, or Somewhere in between,” Djembe 21 (July 1997), retrieved October 6, 2010 from http://cultures.dk/no/21/32bwosib. html. See Jytte Klausen, The Cartoons that Shook the World (New York: Yale University Press, 2009), 29, 96, 152. Klausen, Cartoons, 155. Kiku Day, “Denmark’s new values,” The Guardian, February 15, 2006, retrieved March 11, 2011 from http://www.guardian.co.uk/cartoonprotests/ story/0,,1709895,00.html. See also Klausen, Cartoons, 51. Larsen, Quicksand, 77. One might qualify, though, that the popular circulation of the term “Nørrebronx” also has something to do with gentrifying hipsters wanting to project the idea—sometimes ironically, sometimes not—that they are living a gritty urban life (see, for example, the various Facebook groups called “Nørrebronx”). Klausen, Cartoons, 61. Among the “Danish values” frequently invoked by the 2001–2011 center-right coalition government, and by its sometime ally the Danish People’s Party in particular, were the following: security, welfare, gender equality, human rights, and democracy. Critics have pointed out that such “values” are not distinctly Danish, and that they are often politically freighted with anti-Muslim sentiment. Klausen adds that in the context of the cartoon crisis, “corrosive and profane humor became the symbol of essential Danish values that are placed at risk by religious Muslims” (Cartoons, 61). For a flavor of the politicized defi nition of and public debates about “Danish values,” see “DF vil teste invandrere i danske værdier” [“Danish People’s Party wants to test immigrants on Danish values”], Jyllands Posten, August 6, 2009, http://jp.dk/indland/indland_politik/article1773991.ece; Simon Stilling, “Lene: Militante muslimer truer de danske værdier” [“Lene: Militant Muslims threaten Danish values”], Ekstra Bladet, August 16, 2009, http://ekstrabladet.dk/nyheder/politik/article1206848.ece (“Lene” is Lene

226

56.

57. 58.

59.

60.

Martyn Bone Espersen, who was leader of the Conservative Party and Denmark’s deputy prime minister at the time); and Morten Mikkelsen and Kim Schou, “Hvad er danske værdier? [“What are Danish values?”],” Kristeligt Dagblad, August 18, 2009, http://www.kristeligt-dagblad.dk/artikel/334907:Danmark— Hvad-er—danske-vaerdier. (All three articles were retrieved on March 11, 2011.) The quotations from students included here come from written responses to email questionnaires that I distributed following the classes on Quicksand from the courses in fall 2005, fall 2006, and spring 2010. I discuss teaching Quicksand in Denmark at greater length in my contribution to Jacquelyn Y. McLendon, ed., Approaches to Teaching Nella Larsen (New York: Modern Language Association, forthcoming). Larsen, Quicksand, 71. One might point here to the work of acclaimed fi lmmakers Lars Von Trier (Manderlay, 2005) and Jørgen Leth (The Erotic Man, 2010). For a balanced assessment of Manderlay, including the fi lm’s “fetishization of black male sexuality,” see Gary Younge, “Liberty? No Thanks,” The Guardian, February 24, 2006, retrieved March 11, 2011 from http://www.guardian.co.uk/ fi lm/2006/feb/24/1. An especially egregious example of figuring Africans as primitives can be found in the series of advertisements run by the television channel TV2 Zulu to promote its annual summer outdoor fi lm screenings: the 2007 and 2008 advertisements can be seen at http://www.youtube. com/watch?v=cMOeug1S8_E and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ev_ PjDUww0g&NR=1 (both retrieved March 11, 2011). On identifying as an “afro dansker” (not, it should be said, a commonly used term), see Ayan Mouhoumed, the chief editor of Ethniqa magazine, at http:// www.kommunikationsforum.dk/ayan-mouhoumed (retrieved March 11, 2011). In early 2009, the left-wing online media organization Modkraft ran an article (with accompanying video footage) claiming that a white policeman had used the term “perker” during a confrontation with a second-generation immigrant at an anti-war demonstration. Despite repeated scrutiny by experts, the video footage of the incident proved inconclusive. On the recent introduction of stricter naturalization rules, including a formal examination that is so difficult that “only highly educated foreign-born immigrants or second-generation immigrants who have completed their education in Denmark can cope with it,” see Klausen, Cartoons, 153.

11 A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe An Email Conversation Abdalla Duh, Mohamed Husein Gaas, Abdalla Gasimelseed, Amel Gorani, Nauja Kleist, Anne Kubai, Michael McEachrane, Saifalyazal Omar, Tsegaye Tegenu and Marja Tiilikainen Today people from the Horn of Africa make up the largest group of African immigrants in the Nordic countries. Such demographics alone make migrants from the Horn of Africa, and their descendants, central to mapping African Diasporas in Nordic societies. In comparing African Diasporas from the Horn in Northern Europe with the more longstanding transatlantic African Diasporas some continuities are to be expected. Most significantly, the situation of being racialized by society. Yet, the Horn of Africa was never directly implicated by the transatlantic slave trade and today’s relatively large presence in Europe and North America of migrants from that region is a recent phenomenon.

SPEAKING OF RACISM Michael McEachrane: To kick off our discussion about people from the Horn of Africa in Northern Europe, I’d like to start with the impacts of racism. Among minorities in the Nordic countries, immigrants from the Horn seem to be a particularly vulnerable group. In Sweden, Somalis— who make up the country’s largest immigrant group from the Horn—have the lowest rate of employment of all immigrant groups in Sweden. Today the unemployment rate among Somalis in Sweden is over 70%. According to a recent report, Företagarnas flykt: somalisk flyttning till England [The Flight of Entrepreneurs: Somali’s Moving to England] (Fores, 2011), this situation has led many Somalis with Swedish citizenship to migrate to England, where the job market for Somalis is friendlier even if not good. The report points to such factors as that England has less bureaucracy for small business owners than Sweden, but also that Somalis are less discriminated against in England and feel less alienated there. This picture of the precarious situation of Somalis in Sweden is congruent with studies about discrimination faced by Somalis in other Nordic countries. In the most comprehensive survey to date on minority discrimination in Europe, The European Union Minorities and Discrimination Survey

228

Abdalla Duh, et al.

from 2009, the highest incidence rates for assault or threat in the EU was found for Somali respondents in Finland. According to the report Somalis in Finland and Denmark are also among the three groups in the EU most subjected to personal theft, assault or threat (about half of the respondents) and are among the top ten groups in Europe that experience most overall discrimination. On the whole, the report concludes that those groups who have the highest incident rates of serious harassment in the EU are Romas and Sub-Saharan Africans (broadly referred to as anyone perceived as black African) and that within that group Somalis in Finland and Denmark are among the most likely targets. Abdalla Gasimelseed, in a recent report that you co-authored, Var tog rättigheterna vägen? [Where did the rights go?] (Centrum mot rasism, 2011), about Somalis’ experience of discrimination in Sweden, you and your co-authors point out that Somalis often face the double discrimination of race and religion—both Afrophobia and Islamophobia, as the report puts it. Can you spell this out for us and say something more about the kinds of discrimination faced by Somalis in Sweden? And is there anyone else who would like to chime in on this theme? Abdalla Gasimelseed: I think it is fair to say that people from the Horn living in Sweden receive the double brunt of antiblack racism and Islamophobia. Although it needs to be pointed out that not everyone from the Horn are Muslims a large amount are. However, I think it is important to understand the discrimination faced by people from the Horn living in Sweden against the backdrop of some general trends in Swedish society. Racism is an increasing social problem in Sweden. This is true of the job market, housing market, and how people are treated in everyday encounters in public spaces such as stores and entertainment facilities. One of the more palpable manifestations of this trend is the relatively recent electoral success of the Islamophobic, anti-immigration and nationalist party the Sweden Democrats. A couple of years before the Sweden Democrats won seats in parliament, Integrationsbarometer 2007 [Integrationbarometer 2007]—published by the Swedish Integration Board before it was closed the same year—showed that nearly 1 in 4 Swedes could see themselves voting for a party that sought to restrict the rights of immigrants. The report also put forward Muslims and black persons as two groups who are particularly vulnerable to discrimination in Sweden. For instance, of 2418 interviewed 13% had been witness to offensive behavior toward black people and 12% had witnessed offensive behavior toward Muslims (compared to 4% toward Jews). It almost goes without saying that if you’re Muslim and black you’ll be a more likely target than if you’re only one or the other. Not to mention if you’re a woman too, live in the wrong part of town, speak Swedish with a foreign accent, and so on. I’m not saying that we can do a simple arithmetic of adding grounds of discrimination to see who are the most discriminated against. Still, being both black and

A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe

229

Muslim will likely increase the frequency of being subjected to negative attitudes and behaviors. Tsegayu Tegenu: I realize that this discussion has only begun, but I’d like to caution our use of the term racism here. Although I have no doubt that discrimination against people from the Horn is a problem in Swedish society, I still think we need to be wary of how we use the term racism to describe it. Racism—not least how it is understood here in Sweden—seems to carry with it a connotation of hatred. And I think, generally speaking, hatred is too strong of a description of the problems on the job market, in public spaces, and so on, that we’re talking about. Besides, the term racism strikes me as less precise than discrimination, so why not settle for that term instead? Discrimination is typically used to mean something like prejudicial treatment of individuals based on their group membership. That strikes me as a concept that is more precise, that cuts to the core of what we’re after and that doesn’t imply attitudes as strong as hatred. Another point I’d like to make here is that we need to tread carefully in sorting out the causes of the high unemployment rate among Somalis in Sweden. Again, don’t get me wrong, I’m not denying the existence of discrimination. I’m just calling for some caution in sorting out what’s what so as to be able to precisely pinpoint the problems, have constructive dialogues about possible solutions and avoid blanket accusations of discrimination. This might not be the best example, but judging from the overrepresentation of non-ethnic Swedes—and especially residents of a non-European background—in unemployment statistics and low-skilled menial and service jobs, one might be tempted to say that this is discrimination plain and simple. But this might not take into account that most jobs in Sweden are gotten through informal networks and that the Swedish Employment Office—which a majority of immigrants turn to—only handles about 30% of the job offerings on the job market. The majority of jobs, about 53%, are offered through informal networks and contacts and about 17% through individual effort. Here, of course, we can discuss what it takes to be a part of informal networks capable of landing one a job, not to mention a highend job, but only given the great role of informal networks on the Swedish job market it would be misleading to say that ethnic job disparities simply has to do with discrimination. A fi nal point I’d like to make in regards to discrimination before someone else gets the word is that we need to be realistic about the existence of discrimination in Sweden. Group-based discrimination is a universal human phenomenon. This is not to excuse it, to say that it’s ok and that we should accept it. But we should keep this in mind so as not to unnecessarily demonize and point fi ngers as if Nordic societies are exceptionally hostile to foreigners. We need only consider the group confl icts in the societies we’ve originated from—in my case, Ethiopia some 35 years ago.

230 Abdalla Duh, et al. Michael McEachrane: Although I agree that we need to be clear about what we mean by racism, and careful in ascribing causes to racial and ethnic disparities, I still think we have reason to keep using the term to assertively speak of the ways in which race is an issue in society. Sure, we should always seek to be clear about how we use terms—perhaps especially if they’re as loaded, and have as many meanings, as the term racism. But speaking of racism allows us to more readily speak of things that discrimination doesn’t. For instance, it allows us to more readily speak of social stratification and relations of power or of someone as being racist and by that have in mind, say, a mindset of racial prejudice and dislike—though we cannot likewise speak of someone as being discriminatory. I agree that in Sweden the term racism often has extremist connotations. But that, it seems to me, has to do with a narrow understanding of racism, rather than that it’s reasonable to assume that only people who hate, are proponents of Nazism or Apartheid, can be racist. It’s as if so long as you do not hate a group of people and wish to separate them from the rest of society, you are categorically without prejudices, dislikes and negative attitudes toward that group. Associating racism with hatred and ideological extremism creates an illusion that issues of racial and ethnic prejudice are irrelevant to the majority. The Philosopher Michael Dummett defi nes racism, in the strict sense of the word, as “prejudice against one or more racial groups that manifests itself in hostile behavior toward all members of those groups (or, sometimes, toward all but a very few rich or powerful ones).” Understood that way, it should be clear—especially if we take hostility very broadly—that racism is a far more frequent phenomenon than what an understanding of it as a matter of hatred and ideological extremism would assume. But even such an understanding doesn’t take into account, say, how just as failing to take the words of a female board member seriously because she’s a woman may accurately be described as sexist, failing to take a person seriously because she or he is black may be deemed racist. Neither is all group-discrimination equal in terms of power and scope. The ways in which what we might call modern racism has divided and still divide humanity along what W. E. B. Du Bois famously called “the color line” is unparalleled. Throughout the West and most, if not all, of the former European colonies around the world, it’s generally an advantage to be white rather than a person of color when it comes to, for instance, social prestige and beauty standards, having one’s human and civil rights respected, access to social and economic capital such as high-end jobs and political influence. Abdalla Gasimelseed: Not only would I say that people from the Horn have to deal with racism on the Swedish job market, and the double brunt of Afrophobia and Islamophobia, but they are also indirectly discriminated against by Swedish integration policies. We need not mince words about this. It is well established beyond any reasonable doubt that there’s general

A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe

231

discrimination on the Swedish job market against minorities—such as people of Middle Eastern or African descent. For instance, in 2006 the International Labor Office (ILO) issued a report about the discrimination against native Swedes of immigrant origin in access to employment. The report was based on a study that made use of so-called situation testing where pairs of candidates, comprising one majority and one minority applicant whose characteristics (such as academic credentials, job experience, verbal fluency and communication style) matched except for their ethnic background, presented themselves to prospective employers. The chosen minority group were applicants of a Middle Eastern background. It turned out that when compared to majority applicants it was two to six times as hard for minority applicants to be preferred or chosen for a job. This is just one example. There are a flurry of studies showing that ethnic, racial and religious discrimination are common problems on the Swedish labor market. So how do Swedish policy makers respond? By thorough and widely applied anti-discrimination laws, affi rmative action programs, creating employer incentives for diversity, funding ambitious mentoring programs for ethnic inclusion? No. Sure there are some new anti-discrimination laws, but they are only applied to a trickle of cases. Instead, judging from the policies that are supposed to increase work force integration one could conclude that the only hindrance to integration are the minorities themselves. There are many programs in place to increase the linguistic, cultural and social competencies of immigrants, but hardly any to fight discrimination. Moreover, I dare say that some of the policies indirectly serve to further segregate ethnic, racial and religious minorities. The policies I have in mind are those that unnecessarily protract the time it takes to introduce immigrants, especially asylum seekers, to the job market (this is not least true of immigrants with professional degrees); those that serve to excessively disqualify foreign degrees and work experience; and, perhaps most importantly, those that strive to keep immigrants occupied through compulsory “job training” programs that place them in one temporary low-skilled job after another, and which after a while, especially for the highly educated, becomes a vicious cycle that it almost takes a miracle to break. On the whole, it is rare to fi nd high-skilled immigrants in jobs that match their qualifications. And while we often fi nd highly qualified immigrants forced to accept whatsoever jobs through Swedish job training programs and the like, the same is not true of highly qualified ethnic Swedes. Anne Kubai: I agree with Abdalla’s critique here of the misguided focus of Swedish integration politics. What we are increasingly seeing in Swedish society is the crystallization of certain discriminatory and segregating structures. Only during this past decade, and with a steadily growing immigrant population, equal access to societal resources such as education, work, housing and political participation has diminished. It’s going from bad to worse—following a Europe-wide trend of growing socio-economic

232 Abdalla Duh, et al. inequalities. In Sweden, these widening gaps are clearly following ethnic, and arguably even racial, lines. But rather than speaking of racism as an important part of the explanation of these widening gaps it is more common to invoke “cultural distance.” There’s an overwhelming amount of literature on how talk of culture has supplanted that of race, so I’m not going to harp about that here. But, though the vocabulary has changed the gradations of perceived difference haven’t. According to Mångfaldsbarometern 2011 [The Diversity Barometer 2011]—an annual report on attitudes toward diversity in Swedish society—of all the ethnic minorities in Swedish society, ethnic Swedes imagine Somalis to be farthest removed from them culturally, followed by Romas. In the report, the scale of perceived cultural difference goes from ethnic Swedes to other Nordics to other Western Europeans to Eastern Europeans, Southern Europeans and Jews to non-Europeans with Somalis and Romas (the perpetual foreigners of Europe) being at the end. According to the same report non-Europeans are nearly twice as often positive to ethnic diversity in society than are ethnic Swedes and other Europeans. Further, ethnic Swedes are far less inclined to socialize with non-Europeans than they are with other Europeans. Sweden’s new constitution from 2011 states that Sweden is a multicultural society. But—besides the problem of much “multiculturalism” of treating cultures as monolithic and self-enclosed entities—you will hardly ever fi nd the attitude among majority politicians nor civilians that integration needs to be mutual. Nor that cultural, ethnic and racial hierarchies—which are primarily enforced by the majority—urgently need to be dismantled. Another brief point I’d like to raise here is that when it comes to the discrimination of people from the Horn, isolating racial (from ethnic, cultural, religious and socio-economic) discrimination is a vexing matter.

DISCRIMINATION IN CONTEXT Abdalla Duh: First of all, what do we mean by the term “Somalis” in the Nordic countries? Many researchers as well as the general public in the Nordic societies use the term to refer to citizens of the former Somali republic. However, it should be remembered that European colonization divided the territory that ethnic Somalis (as a broad linguistic and cultural group) inhabit into five colonies. As a result, ethnic Somalis today inhabit much of north eastern Kenya, Djibouti, former Somali Democratic Republic and eastern Ethiopia (the Ogaden region). For instance, Kenyan Defence Minister, Yusuf Haji, and the deputy speaker of the national assembly of Kenya, Farah Moalim, are both Somalis. Somalis in the Nordic countries come from all of the Somali-inhabited areas in the Horn of Africa—although the majority of them are from the former Somali Republic. And before the former Somali Democratic Republic ceased to

A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe

233

exist as a nation in 1991, those who came to Sweden were mainly from the Ogaden region in Ethiopia. That said, in Finland, where I live, people from the Horn of Africa (like some other immigrant groups) also encounter racist attitudes in the job market. I know of many people from the Horn with good education and language skills and even university degrees from Finland, who are not able to secure jobs in their fields and have had to settle for any jobs that were available to them. Some drive taxis or buses, others have cleaning jobs. Sure, there are native Finns too who cannot get jobs in their professions, but to a lesser extent. Then, can this be described as “racial discrimination”? In my opinion, yes, it can. Even in those cases, I would say, where job selections are based on informal connections. If informal connections are a significant share of the job market and informal connections are such that (all else being equal) they routinely favor one racial group and disfavor others, I would say that this at least is an example of indirect racial discrimination. Yet, although the high visibility of Somalis as black means that they are more vulnerable to racist attitudes, distinctly cultural factors play a role too. Somali families are typically larger than native Finnish families—the average number of children in a Somali family in Finland is four, which is less than what was habitual in Somalia, but yet more compared to an average Finnish family. This, I suspect, helps fuel a perception of Somalis as a burden on taxpayers and the Finnish welfare state. Somali immigrants also often carry with them nomadic customs of gathering in large groups and speaking loudly in public places. Such customs and use of public spaces are contrary to Finns’. Then, of course, there’s the open adherence to Islam and that some Somali women wear the Niqab. Finns often associate Islam with the oppression of women and as contrary to a free and open society based on secular values. Finally, since the nation of Somalia collapsed in 1991 the only media images of the country that seem to reach Finland are of war, anarchy, famine, terrorism, and so on. Of course, this will affect the perceptions people have of you. It’s not hard to imagine that attitudes would change if Somalia was a peaceful, democratic, oil-rich African country and a tourist destination. To Anne’s point, though, here it’s as hard to isolate cultural or ethnic prejudice as it is to isolate racial prejudice. To people who have racial prejudice about black people, such cultural characteristics of some Somali immigrants, which I just mentioned, could be taken as instances of how people who are black behave or be “explained” by that Somalis are black. Today, there’s a considerable segment of Finnish society who view immigrants as a threat to their society. One manifestation of this is the recent victory in the 2011 parliamentary elections of the nationalist, anti-immigration and EU-skeptic party the True Finns. It seems to me that discriminatory attitudes are becoming more acceptable and mainstream in Finland. At the same time there’s some talk of multiculturalism and the tolerant

234

Abdalla Duh, et al.

coexistence of different cultures in Finnish society, but such talk seldom translates into action. Saifalyazal Omar: Anne and Abdalla Duh are right that it is not only the color burden that is a disadvantage to immigrants to Northern Europe from the Horn of Africa. Here I would also like to mention socio-economic background, level and quality of education and the impacts of natural disasters and war. We need to put things in context, and not only in a Nordic context, but in the context from whence people from the Horn have come and how it impacts their lives in the Nordic countries. The liberation war in Eritrea and later the war with Ethiopia over Bademe, the Somalia-Ethiopian confl ict since the Ogaden war and the recent march of the Ethiopian army into Mogadishu in 2006, the 1991 collapse (which Abdalla Duh just mentioned) of the Somali state and the current man-made disaster in the country, the war between northern and southern Sudan and the current confl ict in Darfur and South Sudan, are the main causes behind the migration of more than 30 million people from the region. Today, according to Statistics Sweden (SCB), over 100 000 of them live in Sweden, which is more than 1% of the national population. And the presence of people from this region of Africa is growing. During the past couple of years—after returning Swedes and Iraqis—migrants from the former Somali Republic have been the third largest group of new arrivals. One of the difficulties facing immigrants from the Horn, which I think needs to be added to the picture, is that they come from very poor and wartorn countries and often have a low level of education. Although I do not have any statistics on this I dare say that the majority of immigrants from the Horn to the West have a low level of education and that a substantial amount of them even are functionally illiterate. This alone can make adaptation to a new environment where education is key, overwhelming. And the problem is only exacerbated by ending up in public housing projects in the outskirts of cities like Stockholm, Gothenburg, Oslo and Copenhagen. These public housing communities—in Sweden colloquially called “suburbs” (förorter)—typically are majority immigrant communities with a high concentration of non-European immigrants. The diversity in these communities, and the increased contacts with compatriots afforded there, can give a sense of comfort. But having a low level of education to begin with in communities which are at the bottom of the socio-economic hierarchy, largely segregated from the rest of society, with poorer educational and other social opportunities, is, as they say, a recipe for disaster. Here immigrants from the Horn all too often languish in a state of welfare dependency and a strong sense of alienation vis-à-vis society—an alienation that all too often seems to carry into the second generation as well. Nauja Kleist: This is a very interesting and important discussion and I am glad that I was invited to participate. I come to this conversation as a Danish

A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe

235

sociologist and migration researcher who has focused on the diasporic experiences of Somalis in Denmark and the UK. In Denmark, racism is mostly associated with certain forms of ideological extremism. This leaves little room for discussing everyday racism as your “average Dane” is likely to view her or himself as categorically not racist. As several of you already have pointed out, I too think it’s important not to think of race, and the racism towards immigrants from the Horn of Africa, in isolation. Are Somalis discriminated against because of Islamophobia, class (in Denmark too, Somalis are the poorest and among the least employed immigrant group), perceived cultural characteristics, racialized features, or a mixture of all of the above? And how and when can we distinguish what is what? Also, it needs to be considered that Somalis arrived in Denmark in larger numbers from the early and mid1990s at the time when the politicization of refugees, immigration, Islam, and integration really took off. So, in a sense, Somalis have been unlucky to obtain a position as embodying these differences in being—together with Bosnians (most of whom are Muslims too)—the largest refugee group of that time. This situation should be seen in relation to the political climate in Denmark. Since the mid-1990s there’s been much political and media debate about the nature of “Danishness,” Danish culture and multiculturalism (which generally has come to stand for something negative). Let me just pause here to make clear that I understand “Danishness”—and “Somaliness” for that matter—as a continuously negotiated political and discursive framework with repercussions for majority-minority relations and for those seen as belonging or falling outside the category—not as unchanging or unambiguous characteristics of ethnic or national groups. Debates concerning “Danishness” tend to differentiate “us” from “them”—even if it’s done in more overtly cultural rather than biological terms. This has been done quite explicitly at times through debates on immigration, Islam, and integration, where certain groups—for instance, Somalis—have been singled out as especially different and accused of having Medieval cultures, being impossible to integrate and so on. Although the political debate has shifted since 2011 with a change of government and, hence, the loss of political influence of the now former parliamentarian support party, the nationalist and anti-immigration Danish People’s Party, there’s still a broad consensus among most political parties that “we” need to be tough—or “fair” as it is now termed—on immigration and immigrants. Marja Tiilikainen: Perhaps I can add a few things here as a Finnish anthropologist who has done field work both in Somaliland and researched the social situation of Somalis in Finland. In 2010 the total foreign-born population of Finland amounted to less than 200 000—that is to say, about 3.5% of the country’s 5.3 million inhabitants. Migrants from the former Somali Republic are the largest refugee group in Finland, the largest group

236

Abdalla Duh, et al.

of African immigrants and the largest Muslim group. According to Statistics Finland there were 12 985 native Somali language speakers in 2010. The arrival of Somalis in Finland during the 1990s coincided with an economic recession. Since then Somalis have been chastized as welfare beneficiaries who do not contribute to society. Research has shown that there are significant correlations—and the recent electoral success of the True Finns is perhaps an example of this—between economic downturns and negative attitudes toward migrants, in particular visible migrants such as Somalis and Arabs. Because of this, Somalis have become scapegoats for all kinds of problems in Finland. And in Finland during recent years, as elsewhere in Europe, public debates have become increasingly infused with populist right-wing voices who speak of immigrants as threats to Finland and Finnish culture, as terrorists, Islamic radicals and so on. And, again, in these debates Somalis are one of the main groups who are looked upon with great concern and suspicion. In all of this the perceived race of Somalis is obviously a factor. But as we seem to broadly agree on, it is a factor that is intermingled with other factors such as cultural and historical context, economic situation and political undercurrents. For example, when I read internet discussions where Finnish migration critics and racists write on Somalis, I hardly ever see arguments making reference to, say, “those blacks” or “these Africans.” Instead the arguments typically refer to statements such as “Somalis use our social welfare,” “steal our money,” “rape our women,” “commit crimes”— without any explicit reference to race. Mohamed Husein Gaas: I see a potential danger in putting too great emphasis on the supposed ethnic characteristics of Somalis—either the characteristics are merely imagined or real—when we are talking about the inequalities Somalis face in the Nordic countries. We need to be careful about not “Somalizing” this discussion by explaining the social exclusion, high unemployment and low socio-economic status of Somalis in the Nordic countries with their low education and their cultural traits. Such explanations all too easily make Somalis themselves the sole problem and shift the attention away from majority society. With all respect, I think questions of unequal power and opportunities, and the processes in society that stereotype, discriminate, stigmatize and exclude, are far more central to grappling with the situation of Somalis in the Nordic countries. Just to mention one example, it strikes me as more relevant that we ask ourselves why it seems to be easier for Somalis to find employment in England, the U.S. or even South Africa than in Finland or Sweden. Amel Gorani: Mohamed makes an important point here. Not least about a place like Sweden where there’s a tendency to couch all problems of integration in terms of the (imagined or real) cultural differences of immigrants. From my own experience of being a woman of Sudanese background who

A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe

237

has lived, studied and worked in Sweden—but also traveled extensively and lived on three different continents—Sweden strikes me as a society which has a particularly hard time accepting diversity. On the one hand, Sweden is an internationally renowned human rights-oriented, egalitarian welfare state with a generous refugee and foreign aid program. On the other hand, Swedes seem (and indeed are) largely unaccustomed to living with ethnic diversity and have a hard time dealing with difference. This is probably due to Sweden’s fairly limited exposure to non-European peoples and cultures. Sweden doesn’t have an extensive history of colonialism and the history of non-European immigration to Sweden is fairly recent. Such a difficulty of coming to terms with difference sometimes translates into a sort of provincialism, expressed, for instance, in the way in which you will remain a “foreigner” in Sweden even if you were born in the country, were adopted by Swedish parents and have a Swedish name or are of mixed Swedish and foreign parentage. So even those of a non-European background, who speak the language fluently and are culturally Swedish, are unlikely to be accepted as Swedish because of their dark skin, dark hair or foreign last name. And the paucity of black or other people of nonEuropean descent who are in positions of power, professionals or in the media only confi rms the sense that one does not belong to mainstream society. I always used to feel energized when visiting the U.S., the UK or other Western countries where you could see black and other people of color as professionals and in positions of power. I used to be surprised at how much it meant to me to get that kind of affirmation. One of the most damaging and insidious effects of racism is how it slowly undermines one’s ability to believe in oneself. I came to Sweden in my late teens, went to high school, did my undergraduate and graduate studies and also worked for a few years there. During this time I was very active in a number of organizations and was fortunate enough not to have to experience the devastating effects of unemployment or face any serious incidents of ethnic or racial harassment. I had a number of interesting jobs and assignments—although not always ones that matched my qualifications or engaged my full potential. Nonetheless, even if I experienced relative success in adjusting and integrating into Swedish society, it did not eliminate the effect of the everyday racism I experienced. I still had to deal with the reality of routinely being treated not just as different, but as less. I found it difficult not to mull over whether or not a rejection to a job I knew I was (over)qualified for or an unpleasant encounter with some office receptionist or a bus driver had to do with my skin color. It was taking a toll on me. When you are confronted with realities such as these on a daily basis, it gets to you and you start thinking less of yourself. You start limiting your dreams and aspirations to what is attainable, not what is possible. Finally, I decided that I did not want to live like that and was privileged enough to have the option of moving back to Africa—first to Eritrea, then to Kenya and later Sudan, my country of origin, before moving to the US where I now live.

238

Abdalla Duh, et al.

My story is merely one among many and admittedly a privileged one. During my time in Sweden, I witnessed the effects of racial and ethnic discrimination on so many brilliant, creative and capable people around me whose talents were going to waste because they were consistently denied the jobs they deserved, had to settle for jobs that were far below their qualifications, and whose dreams and opportunities for leading lives that matched their potentials were crushed.

BLACK IN THE HORN Michael McEachrane: Thanks, Amel, and the rest of you. I’m curious, how does the role of race in the Nordic societies compare to the role of race in the Horn? Fair to say, as an immigrant to a Nordic society from the Horn of Africa, being black will influence how one is perceived. Although it can be discussed to what extent, how and in which contexts. As several of you have pointed out, the perception of someone from the Horn as black might be intermingled with perceptions of their national or ethnic origin, gender, class, level of education, dress, fluency in speaking Swedish, and so on. But what about in the Horn? What, if any, are the roles of race there? Today some scholars speak of a New African Diaspora of postcolonial African immigrants to the West. This is a group whose identities—at least prior to their migration—have been shaped by life in their native societies rather than by life in the African Diasporas. Accordingly, to members of this New African Diaspora, culture, ethnicity, family, religion, class, region and nationality tend to play a more prominent role in their selfunderstanding than race. To many of this group, it may be a rude awakening to fi nd out that in the West race plays a prominent role in how they are judged, even stigmatized, and that their cultural, national, and other particularities—not to mention their personal ones—may wane in comparison. The particular “double consciousness” that arises, then, seems to be one in which the sense of “looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity,” to speak with Du Bois, often results in an estrangement from having a consuming identity as “black” forced upon one. Not least if this means that one as an African immigrant is placed in the same box as any other “black” person. Does this ring true to what it might be like to belong to, say, an Eritrean or Somali diaspora in a Nordic country? Tsegaye Tegenu: This largely rings true to me. Nevertheless, immigrants from the Horn come to the North with varying experiences of racism from their native countries. And one can only assume that this will inform the sort of interest they’ll be inclined to take in the racism toward them in their host countries. For those with no previous experience of ethnic and other

A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe

239

group-based discrimination in their homelands, their minds are less likely to be preoccupied with issues of racism. To such migrants, I suspect that the civil wars of their native countries will be more important to them than the discrimination they face in their host countries. They might not even see the discrimination for what it is, and if they do, it might not behoove them to stoop down to that level. It takes two to Tango, as they say. To a second generation of such immigrants, though, I suspect that issues of racism and being black—with its Western pop-cultural and historical connotations— will be more important. Here we also need to keep in mind that group-based discrimination in the Horn is not distinctly racial—at least not in a Western sense. Instead, the discrimination that exists is along religious (Muslims vs. Christians), linguistic (for instance, the Amhara, Tigre and Oromo groups of Ethiopia) and kinship lines. In general, group identities are primarily regional and kinship-based. In a country like Somalia, where people essentially speak the same language and practice the same religion, we still see confl icts along kinship lines. Beyond that, depending on context and expected advantages, group-identities in the Horn can be stretched to include larger national and religious identities. Abdalla Duh: I agree with Tsegayu that group-based discrimination in the Horn arguably isn’t distinctly racial in a Western sense, but with some reservation. To be sure, there’s discrimination in parts of the Horn that can be described as racial in nature—if we by that mean discrimination based on skin color and the like where someone can be discriminated against because they’re e.g. “black.” The classic example is the long-standing conflict between north and south Sudan—which in no small part is a confl ict between lighter complexioned, partly Arab-descended people of the North and darker complexioned Bantus of the South. Somalis too have their own racializing perceptions of Bantus. In Nordic societies Somalis may be categorized as black African. But in the Horn ethnic Somalis refer to Bantus and other darker complexioned Africans as “Adoon”—which literally means “slaves” and alludes to what is seen as their history of being subjects of the Arab slave trade. I think it would be fair to say that ethnic Somalis in the Horn neither see themselves as black (as Bantus and other darker complexioned Africans are black) nor as white (as white Europeans or even Arabs may be described). Also, ethnic Somalis see themselves as culturally closer to the Arab and Islamic world than to the more southern and western parts of Africa. Abdalla Gasimelseed: In Sudan too, Bantus are called “slaves” or “servants.” And here too the historical background is the Arab slave trade. But, mind you, this was not only a slave trade to the Arab world. Bantus were also used as slaves in Sudan. To avoid being viewed as grandsons of slaves, today many people of Sudan wish to identify themselves as descendants of

240

Abdalla Duh, et al.

Arabs—even associating themselves with known Arab families and preferably ones who are considered descendants of Prophet Mohammed. The discrimination of darker complexioned Sudanese has long been an issue in opportunities related to government, other positions of power and respecting human rights. Both the British, Ottoman and Egyptian rule over Sudan may have had something to do with how systematic this discrimination became. But even after the independence in 1956 darker complexioned Sudanese were dubbed “servants,” the discrimination continued, and it is in part because of it that South Sudan fi nally has become independent. Marja Tiilikainen: From what I’ve been able to gather from my field work in Somalia, skin-color categorizations or identifications among Somalis do not necessarily imply any hierarchies. Sometimes skin color may merely be a means to identify people as belonging to a certain area, clan or descent. For instance, the more light-skinned people who live in the Coastal areas of Somalia such as Mogadishu, Barawe or Merka, are regarded as Arab descendants. Nonetheless, once Somalis arrive to Nordic countries they are generally regarded as “black” by the majority population. And even amongst the Somali diaspora I’ve found that nuances of skin color seem to become less important as markers of internal differences. Amel Gorani: People from the Horn of Africa—at least those who belong to the dominant groups—are known within the continent for not embracing a black African identity. Sudan is a stark example. There, race, religion and confl ict over the identity of the country has played a pivotal role in a bloody confl ict that has lasted for over 40 years and now has resulted in a literal division of the country. South Sudanese, as well as many other nonArab groups in Sudan, identify primarily as black African. This identity has been essential in uniting ethnically, linguistically and even religiously diverse groups of people in the face of oppression by the dominant groups of Arabized Sudanese in the riverain part of northern Sudan. Many of these hegemonic groups residing in the north central riverain region typically do not identify in the fi rst instance as Africans or blacks but rather as Arabs or mixed Afro-Arabs. They tend to see other non-Arab African Sudanese ethnic groups as inferior. This has to do with a history where—by way of the regional dominance of those who claim an Arab genealogy and adhere to Islam—claiming Arab descent is an entry point into networks of power and privilege. In addition, colonial rule invested in the development of the riverain region of northern Sudan to the detriment of the south and other marginalized parts of the country which are still seen as undeveloped backcountry. Then there is the bitter history of slavery and slave raiding of those who have come to identify as black Africans by those who identify as Arab. To this day the word “abd” (or “abeed” in the plural), which literally means slave, is commonly used as a derogatory term for non-Arab black Africans.

A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe

241

However, in Sudan racial stratification—if we may call it that—also varies on the basis of religion, language, ethnicity, socio-economic status and region and is not simply a matter of Arab/Arabized versus non-Arabized Africans. Non-Arabic-speaking groups are not all equal in their “otherness” and not all Arab/Arabized groups are necessarily privileged. For example, Nubians from the north of Sudan enjoy some social prestige with their Nubian, non-Arabic, heritage, ancient civilizations and languages. They do not identify as Arabs and are quick to note that they are the original inhabitants of the land. Yet, they do not identify as black African either. And one of the few ethnically Arab groups in Sudan whose genealogies lie squarely outside of Africa are the nomadic Rashaida people. Contrary to what one would expect they are a marginalized, low status group. Interestingly, in Sudan the widespread tendency of wanting to distance oneself from being black is not equivalent to viewing whiteness as superior. In fact, being white is not seldom disdained. The term for a light-skinned Sudanese “halabi” is also a derogatory term indicating low status. Instead, privilege is given to those who belong to the category of “awlad al balad”— that is to say, sons or children of the land who belong to communities in the riverain regions of central northern Sudan, and who often are as darkskinned as marginalized groups who do not identify as Arab. Nevertheless, the discrimination faced by people of non-Arabized black Africans in Sudan is clearly more severe than that faced by descendants of, say, Syrians, Egyptians or Turks. Despite being faced with some measure of social and political marginalization, these groups still wield power in society through their often superior socio-economic status as businessmen and traders. Although Sudan is a stark example of racialized dynamics, similar dynamics may be found elsewhere in the Horn. With this in mind, it should come as no surprise that many migrants from the Horn of Africa—especially fi rst generation migrants—may have issues with being perceived as black or embracing a black African identity, when it is an identity that is affiliated with low-status people in their own countries. Since “racial” politics in these African contexts are based on many more factors than skin color alone, the racial context of the West (adopted by both whites and migrant Africans), with a much more dichotomous notion of groups constituted by blackness and whiteness, is an awkward fit. Here, though, as Tsegaye discussed, one may suspect that, for instance, north Sudanese and south Sudanese migrants would have very different perspectives on an imposed or supposed black African identity. It may seem fair to describe those from the Horn who dislike being labeled “black African” as subjects of internalized racism. To the extent that this rejection is based on perceptions of black Africans as inferior and Arabs as superior, such a description seems appropriate. However, it is essential not to simply equate the rejection of black identity by migrants from the Horn with internalized racism. Much of the resistance to being labeled black can indeed be understood as an estrangement from a racial schema which

242

Abdalla Duh, et al.

frankly is as un-African as it is misleading in its lumping together of people of African descent into an undifferentiated mass.

POLITICIZING RACE Michael McEachrane: So what happens when racial sensitivities from the Horn get transplanted in Nordic contexts? Does it compel migrants from the Horn to challenge the ways in which skin color is stigmatized both in their host and native countries? There’s a growing need to politicize race in the Nordic countries. These countries take great pride in how gender equality has become a mainstream ideal. So much so that it has become a part of their national identities and something which, for instance, the nationalist party the Sweden Democrats see as a hallmark of Swedishness. One can only hope that the same becomes true of racial equality. Even if the black populations of the Nordic countries today are sizeable enough to garner mainstream political attention the amount of black inhabitants shouldn’t be decisive. From a political point of view, how any black person is treated by society should be seen as a matter of embodying constitutional values of equality and human dignity. A tension that is as relevant as ever is that between, on the one hand, the constitutionally inscribed equal worth of every human being, and on the other, the nature of the nation-state, which includes some human beings and excludes others. This is a tension that runs deep in Western nationstates and is arguably most dramatic regarding race. We need, for instance, only keep in mind what we’ve said about discrimination on the job market, where at least in Sweden—but I would be very surprised if this is not equally true of the other Nordic countries—race seems to be a greater hindrance than gender, ethnicity, religion or any other marker of difference. Today there’s much talk among political theorists that the traditional European nation-state, with an ethnically defi ned national “we,” is unsustainable in an increasingly diverse Europe. In virtue of civic equality, the national communities of European states need to be largely decoupled from any particular ethnic identity so as not to make proximity to it a condition for full inclusion. This, though, does not mean that society should be blind to ethnic or racial differences in furthering justice—merely that respect for a person’s dignity and rights should not depend on their ethnic or racial membership. Any comments? Abdalla Gasimelseed: Yes, there seems to be a growing need in the Nordic countries—and especially in a country as diverse as Sweden is becoming—to make race a part of the political conversation. And, indeed, race needs to be politicized among migrants from the Horn of Africa. However, such politicization has always been underway. We’ve just discussed the situation

A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe

243

in Sudan, which, in large part due to a politicization of race, has led to the recent independence of South Sudan. Those of us with backgrounds in the Horn of Africa who are participating in this discussion are politicizing race and I know many immigrants from the Horn who are astutely aware of the significance of race in their lives in the North. The process of awareness raising and action is continuing, but we should not assume that people from the Horn are blind to politics of color. Further, we should be careful not to take any framework of human rights and democracy for granted. In general, yes, some form of democracy, values of non-discrimination and unequivocal respect for human dignity are pillars of a decent society. But not only have such alleged pillars of society all too often been a mockery when it comes to the equal treatment of black people in Europe and its colonies. Today these pillars are rapidly becoming shaky to the Western majority too. Additionally, in the West’s relation to the rest of the world the quasi-universalism of its human rights and liberal democracy is arguably as obvious today as it ever was. Democracy in a broad and proper sense should reasonably be understood as a process whereby individuals irrespective of their race, ethnicity, gender, religion, socio-economic status, national origin, and so on, obtain human rights, have their inviolable human dignity respected and an equal opportunity to influence the social, economic and political order of society. Democracy is not merely a public conversation amongst the lucky few and casting one’s ballot every couple of years. Marx doubted that liberal democracy would be able to fulfi ll its promises under the auspices of free market capitalism as this would inevitably lead to a concentration of wealth and power and a slant toward socio-economic elites. With the growing inequalities and concentration of power, which has been going on since at least the 1980s, and the onslaught of neoliberalism, this critique is as relevant as it ever has been. Although I’m not a Marxist and do not want to give the false impression of propagating for Marxism, I think it’s becoming increasingly clear to an increasing amount of people that the current system is inherently corrupt and that it’s time we look for alternatives that are better at realizing the spirit of democracy. To me, and I think to many others, today the spirit of democracy isn’t best kept alive by party politics, but by the pro-democracy movements that are taking to the streets around the world, such as those of the Arab Spring and the Occupy Movements. As you pointed out, Michael, despite its rhetoric of ethical universalism and human and civil rights, there’s a long-standing tradition in Western societies of asserting the humanity of some and not others. This tradition has in part been challenged in the past by, for instance, abolitionism, women’s rights movements and movements for the indigenous rights of Sami’s in Norway, Sweden and Finland. Today it is well on its way to be challenged again by the increased presence in Europe of non-European migrants— who are becoming a severe test for Europe’s alleged universalism.

244 Abdalla Duh, et al. As Africans and Muslims we have an abundance of reasons to question Western universalism. Just consider, for a moment, the ways in which our natural resources on the continent continue to be pillaged by Western interests—such as the Swedish company Lundin Oil with Sweden’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, Carl Bildt, on its board—to the detriment of our peoples under conditions that would not be accepted in the West. Or the supposed “humanitarian interventions” of the U.S. into Iraq and Afghanistan. Not to mention the many self-serving liberties of the U.S. in its diff use “war on terror” where anyone who’s a Muslim is a potential suspect. Amel Gorani: Regarding the need to politicize race, the first thing we need to recognize is that there’s no cookie-cutter formula for doing so. Forms of discrimination faced by people from the Horn vary according to context— including intersections of a person’s race, ethnicity, gender, class, age, sexual orientation, physical ability, education, etc. The experiences of discrimination can be just as varied too depending on the kind of factors just mentioned in addition to psychological characteristics such as a person’s awareness and values. Finally, and most importantly, there are obviously a great many ways that a person can act or not act in response to being discriminated against. Women and men, fi rst and second generation immigrants, educated and resource-rich individuals versus people with limited education and means, will have different opportunities, means and strategies to address the multiple forms of discrimination they face. It’s essential to be open to such variation so as to avoid categorical and sweeping judgments about right or wrong ways of politicizing or not politicizing race. I know from comparing my own experience with racism and other forms of discrimination (such as Islamophobia) with the experiences of members of my nuclear family how differently African immigrants understand and relate to issues of race and ethnicity, to our culture and country of origin, and how that plays out in our understanding, response and strategies for dealing with racism and discrimination in the West. I would be wary of any attempts to categorize such responses as defi nitively right or wrong. What I appreciate most about Sweden, and Scandinavia in general, are the widely-held beliefs in principles of equality and solidarity. In a way, this is what makes the everyday racism and unwillingness to embrace ethnic and racial diversity so perplexing. Sweden was at the forefront of countries supporting the anti-apartheid struggle. And Scandinavian societies at least used to be held up as models of social welfare and equality of opportunity. Living in the U.S., I am stunned by the widespread acceptance of cutthroat capitalism, poor labor laws and the disdain by many of the most rudimentary forms of equality of opportunity—such as access to quality healthcare. That said, African immigrant communities in the U.S. generally seem to have an easier time than in Sweden finding employment and having opportunities to advance. The handholding, patronizing approach to dealing with African and other immigrants, while failing to come to grips with

A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe

245

racism, does not seem to be working very well. It’s one thing to be patrons to Africans, another to live with us as equals. However, I think there are lessons to be learned, especially for us who are from the dominant groups of the Horn, to fi nd ourselves in societies where we are at the bottom of the social pecking order. Being subjected to discrimination can potentially help people look critically at their own experiences of once belonging to a dominant group and experience what it is like to be in the position of the “Other.” Such an experience can lead people to reevaluate and reject the absurd and damaging dynamics of racial discrimination. We have of course many examples where that is not the case and where people persist in clinging to their prejudices and hierarchies and merely feel indignation over how they could possibly be grouped together with those other “blacks.” However, I’ve seen many contrary cases too of immigrants from the Horn awakening to the falsehoods and pitfalls of ethnic and racial domination. For instance, I see this happening in how the second generation, to a greater extent than the fi rst generation immigrants, embrace an identity as black Africans.

SPEAKING OF INTEGRATION Saifalyazal Omar: At least two things come to mind here. First, especially, being a refugee, how does it color your migration experience and your relation to both your host and native countries? Second, how do the refugee and integration programs of the host countries color your migration experience and attitude toward integration? First of all, we need to keep in mind that people mostly migrate from the Horn because of conflicts, droughts and poverty. They come to the North with hopes of a better life for themselves and their families. Especially if they are refugees—which I take the overwhelming majority of migrants from the Horn to be—they are also likely to come to their host countries with a dream of one day returning to their native countries. Many believe that Scandinavia merely is a temporary home. Naturally, this will shape their attitudes toward integration. Frankly, other than enjoying some material benefits, to many if not most refugees, integration is of little interest. Their hearts, longings and aspirations are not primarily directed toward their host countries, but their native countries. The many East African diaspora organisations we see emerging in Sweden are an expression of this. This is not to say that there are not a great variety of attitudes toward integration or that refugees will likely be totally uninterested in integration—especially if it simply means being treated with decency and respect and treating others in kind. But knowing the ways of the human heart, and the conditions under which people from the Horn arrive to the Nordic countries, it should come as no surprise that integration might not be a priority. From the perspective of a society where everyone’s rights and moral

246 Abdalla Duh, et al. equality are respected, having a drive toward such a society may be crucial. Such a society is beneficial to the refugee too and it’s perhaps even more important to the second generation, whose ties to the native country of the parents (or parent) are weakened. However, generally we should not expect integration in a generation or even two. Of course, on the flip side, there are attitudes and policies of majority society that also hinder integration. There’s the obvious racism. There’s the denial of racism. There are the implicit and explicit demands of assimilation—not seldom under the guise of “integration”—making integration virtually impossible. There’s the confused belief, which Anne mentioned, that it’s only “the others” who are in need of integration. And there are the policies that are hostile to refugees—such as preventing them from reaching the borders of Europe or crossing the borders to Nordic countries so that they can seek asylum, handing over border-patrolling and asylum centers to private interests or (in accordance with the Dublin Regulation) preventing refugees from getting legal help if they are seeking asylum in another European country than where they fi rst arrived. Where are the human and civil rights in all of this one may ask? Abdalla Duh: Regarding the integration of immigrants from the Horn into Finnish society, there’s reason for both optimism and concern. On the optimistic side, Finnish laws give equal rights to all citizens of the country regardless of whether they are Finnish by birth or naturalization. Some of the religious and cultural rights that are guaranteed by Finnish law are not always available to immigrants from the Horn even in their native countries. In general, there’s a willingness in Finland, at least in principle, to adhere to standards of human rights and democracy. When it comes to the actual adherence to such standards, or the lack thereof, the responsibility goes both ways. For instance, Somali immigrants may not put down sufficient effort to learn Finnish, which is needed to participate in Finnish democracy or engage in furthering rights in Finland whosesoever they may be and majority Finns may not accept the consequences of a multi-ethnic and multi-religious Finnish society with respect to human rights. However, when speaking of the integration of immigrants from the Horn into Finnish society my greatest concern is the widespread social and cultural, not to mention political, estrangement of the second generation. Being one generation removed from their parents’ native countries and being unable to feel that they are full and equal members of Finnish society, they typically see themselves as neither fully, say, Somali nor Finnish, and often build their identities around being foreigners (even if they are born in Finland), transnational pop-culture (such as hip hop) and a transnational Muslim identity (under the Islamic concept of “Ummah”). This is a generation that defies borders, nationalism and any one-sided allegiance to the nation-state. As such it is a generation that, beyond its

A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe

247

obvious challenge to Finnish nationalism and provincialism, may serve to question the nation-state structures that have been forced on Africa. Kwame Nkrumah spoke of “Africa’s artificial borders”—referring to the, from an African perspective, arbitrary carving up of the continent by the European colonizers. As a result we got British Somaliland, Italian Somaliland, Ethiopian-held Somaliland, Kenyan Somaliland, French Somaliland . . . In Nuruddin Farah’s words, “Borders are an anathema, which we must discard if we wish our continent to develop culturally, scientifically and economically as a single unit—and organically at that.” At their best, the transnational nature of Diasporas may help loosen the entrapments of ethnocentrism both in their host and native countries. The active role that Somali Diasporas play in the development of the former Republic of Somalia is interesting in this regard. Today Somali Diasporas contribute to conflict resolutions, developing schools, healthcare centers and other humanitarian assistance in Somalia, and many key members in the current Somali Transitional Government, including the Prime Minister, are from the Diaspora. I think we have reason to be optimistic about these sorts of exchanges between Somalia and its Diasporas. Marja Tiilikainen: Merely a brief comment to what Abdalla just wrote. In my own experience as a researcher, the fi rst generation Somalis in Finland during the 1990s, in particular middle-aged mothers and fathers and elderly people, were just waiting for the day when they could return to Somalia. But gradually they realized that the war wasn’t going to end anytime soon. Meanwhile, their kids and grandchildren grew up, studied, worked, married and built families in Finland. They may be well-rooted in Finland or maybe in both Finland and Somalia. In Finland there are several Somalis who are transnationally active and have found meaningful roles in both countries. For example, they may be involved in the politics or in development co-operation projects in Somalia/Somaliland and travel regularly between the two countries. At the same time, they may have families and jobs in Finland. Actually, recent research has confi rmed that those migrants who are transnationally active are often well-integrated also in their new home countries. So, orientations and loyalties towards previous home countries do not necessarily override orientations and loyalties towards countries of resettlement, but can exist in tandem. Nauja Kleist: Denmark is perhaps the clearest example among the Nordic countries of promoting cultural assimilation under the guise of “integration.” As mentioned above, from the late 1990s and throughout the 2000s, discussions about integration, “Danishness” and “foreignness” have been high on the political and media agendas. Here are some examples. A Ministry of Refugee, Immigration and Integration Affairs was established in 2001 and abolished in 2011 when the right-wing government was installed and lost power, respectively. When the last Minister of Integration, Søren

248

Abdalla Duh, et al.

Pind, took up office, he declared to be in favor of assimilation rather than integration and that people coming to Denmark should become Danish and not try to change the country. In 2004 the then Danish Minister of Culture launched an initiative to establish a state-sanctioned cultural canon of Danish art and literature. Likewise the perceived exclusivity of Danish citizenship was eagerly debated in the 2000s, and it was made extremely difficult to become a naturalized citizen with the introduction of difficult language proficiency tests and tests in knowledge of Danish history and culture. The German sociologist Jürgen Habermas has suggested a distinction between political and cultural integration which can be employed to understand the situation in Denmark. Whereas the former refers to shared political principles of human rights and democracy, the latter implies that people are supposed to be culturally alike—like the examples mentioned above. Though not necessarily easy, I think such a model of political integration is the way forward. However, in Denmark you’ll fi nd many stumbling blocks down that road. One of them is that equality all too often is confused with cultural sameness or similarity. Indeed, the Danish word for equality—lighed— both means equality as well as sameness. In principle, one may fi nd that the Danish welfare state ought to be totally disconnected from notions of cultural sameness. However, in practice there are prominent political ideas that solidarity between citizens—which the welfare state is premised upon—is dependent on cultural homogeneity and sameness, and, hence, that multiculturalism or cultural diversity is problematic or detrimental for the welfare state. According to this political logic, you need to be culturally similar in order to be equal and have equal rights. This sort of anxiety around the cultural and ethnic identity of the state is sometimes translated into debates about “the costs of foreigners in Danish society” where the matter of equality only truly seems to include majority society and not “the others.” Yet, from a historical perspective the supposed cultural homogeneity of Denmark is a myth. Not all that long ago political discussions about integration were focused on urbanization and industrialization and how the rural people could possibly become “civilized.” The idea of a bygone idyllic Danish, equal and homogenous society is grossly simplified. Fair to say, though, who is and who is not Danish has never been a simple matter and is becoming increasingly contested. Can one be a full and equal Danish citizen as black and/or Muslim? The answer to that question depends on political position—in its broadest sense—and there is no consensus here. Formally yes. But in practice this may be a more mixed picture as dark skin color and/or especially being a Muslim often times are seen as signs of un-Danishness. But whereas Islam is openly discussed as a threat to Danish society, the vocabulary of race is hardly ever used. In fact, the Danish People’s Party, for instance, explicitly distances itself from racist views, but is very direct in its anti-immigration and anti-Muslim rhetoric. What

A Horn of Africa in Northern Europe

249

is more, even when it’s not openly debated who is and who is not a Dane, political debates often focus on “the Danes” rather than the population, the citizens, the voters, tax-payers, etc. The implication being that who is and who is not included in this category still lurks beneath the surface. So how do Somalis in Denmark themselves respond to this socio-political climate? When I interviewed Somali refugees in 2003 and 2004 about how they experienced the, at the time, very harsh debates in Denmark on Islam, refugees and not least Somalis, they mainly gave two kinds of answers. One was to think of the debates as public debates that were unpleasant, but didn’t matter too much at a personal level. The other was to say that the debate indeed did shape how they experienced their lives in Denmark—not least when thinking of their children and worrying whether they would ever become equal citizens in Denmark. However, when it comes to the integration of Somalis we also need to factor in the particular losses they have experienced as refugees and how this is likely to shape their relationships to both their new home as well as their native countries. While a sense of loss and displacement may be experienced by many people who have moved for one reason or the other, it is likely to be more acutely felt by people who have been forced to move by armed conflict and wars. Many Somalis have suffered multiple losses following the war—loss of family members and friends due to death or separation; loss of livelihoods; loss of property and assets; loss of social status; loss of future prospects. One can only expect that this may give rise to a particularly intense sense of displacement and transnational connections between the host and native countries. Anne Kubai: In conjunction to what Nauja just wrote I would like to stress the role of media imagery. When it comes to group identities one can hardly overstate the role of media images in shaping both the perceptions of groups as well as how they experience their own standing in society. This may be a truism, but it’s still worth noting: a sense of self-esteem, pride or honor in belonging to one or another social group hinges on a sense of how one as a member of that group is perceived by others. And if we’re talking of integration in terms of civic equality, it seems clear that the extent to which we are afforded, and afford others, civil respect is related to the honor or stigma we are associated with and associate others with. What I’ve found in my research in Sweden is that not only do the overwhelmingly negative media portrayals of Africans impact the general Swedish public, but it also has an adverse effect on the self-image and sense of dignity amongst African immigrants. Not a few of them whom I’ve interviewed say that it burdens them to be stigmatized by media as migrants from poor, dysfunctional and generally lacking countries. For instance, Somalis describe it as burdensome that their country is consistently portrayed in media as characterized by anarchy. When interviewed some of them put it thus: “We come from Africa, where there is poverty and confl ict

250 Abdalla Duh, et al. and so we are seen as representatives of the poverty, confl ict and famine that ravage the continent and it is not easy to live with this image.” Current research has shown that this sort of stigmatization breeds feelings of disillusionment with society—not least for the second generation. How can one see oneself as welcomed, and in fact be welcomed, by a society which consistently presents one as a problem? Denmark-Finland-Norway-Sweden-Trinidad & Tobago-U.S.A., August 15–29, 2011

Contributors

Anna Adenji, PhD in Gender Studies from Linköping University, Sweden. Her thesis was published as a book in 2008, Inte den typ som gifter sig. Feminstiska samtal om äktenskapsmotstånd [Not the marrying kind. Feminist conversations on marriage resistance]. Her research interests are Feminist Theory and Methodology, feminist discourses of gender, family and marriage, the cultural politics of emotion and sexuality, and Critical Whiteness Studies. Beth Maina Ahlberg is a Professor of International Health at the Department of Women’s and Children’s Health, Uppsala University, Sweden. She is also head of research at the Skaraborg Institute for Research and Development in the South West Region of Sweden. Research interests are among others gender and health, migration and health and HIV/ AIDS mainly focusing on methodological issues especially application of participatory and dialogic approaches to research and development. Bertrand Besigye is a Norwegian poet and novelist. His family came to Norway as refugees from Uganda in the 1970s. Besigye began writing in high-school feeling he could do better than contemporary Norwegian poetry. Zest for life, rage against injustice, and the mysteries of inner and outer nature are his main topics. Among his publications are the poetry collections, Og du dør så langsomt at du tror du lever [And You Die So Slowly You Think You’re Alive] (1993) and Og Solen Tilber Ingen Andre Guder Enn Sin Egen Styrke [And the Sun Worships No Other Gods than Its Own Strength] (2010). Martyn Bone is Associate Professor of American Literature at the University of Copenhagen, where he also coordinates the Center for Transnational American Studies. He is the author of The Postsouthern Sense of Place in Contemporary Fiction (2005); the editor of Perspectives on Barry Hannah (2007); and the co-editor of Creating Citizenship in the Nineteenth Century South and The American South and the Atlantic World (both 2013). His essays have appeared in American Literature,

252 Contributors Journal of American Studies, Comparative American Studies, and various other journals and books. Cecil Brown holds a PhD in African American Literature from the University of California, Berkeley. He has published a number of novels, short stories, screenplays, and journal articles relating to African American literature and life, and has taught classes in literature and popular culture at UC Berkeley, Stanford University, UC Santa Barbara, the University of San Francisco, and other universities throughout California. Claudette Carr is Course Leader and Principal Lecturer in international and Community Development at the University of Westminster. She is also the founding Director of the Jethro Institute for Good Governance (JIGG), and has over fifteen years’ experience lecturing in Youth & Community Work, Social Work, Community Development, and Social Policy. She holds a PhD in education and degrees in social science and applied anthropology from Goldsmiths College, and is also JNC qualified in youth and community work. Madubuko Diakité (ADB in Film Studies and Juris Licentiate) is a human rights lawyer and documentary fi lmmaker. Currently Diakité is a researcher in affiliation with the Raoul Wallenberg Institute at Lund University, Sweden, where he focuses on the human rights of African migrant workers. He is also the publisher of The Lundian Magazine, an English language newsletter in Sweden (www.thelundian.com) and the Director and CEO of The English International Association of Lund, a civil and human rights NGO based in Lund, Sweden. Abdalla Duh is a doctoral candidate (Development studies)at the Department of Political and Economic Studies, University of Helsinki, Finland. His academic background is in sociology and development studies (B.Soc. Sc, M.Soc.Sc, university of Helsinki, Finland). After having worked for a decade as a secondary school teacher in Finland, Duh enrolled at the University of Helsinki where he also worked as a Lecturer at the Department of World Culture, 2008–2009. In addition to teaching and research, he has experience working with international aid & development organizations in Somalia in such areas as human development, democratic governance, education, poverty reduction, recovery and crisis prevention, women´s empowerment and capacity development. Anne Dvinge recently completed a Postdoctoral Fellowship at the Department of Arts and Cultural Studies at the University of Copenhagen. Dvinge’s research lies in the interstices between Jazz Studies, American Studies, and Critical and Cultural Theory. She has been the principal investigator for Denmark on the HERA-funded research program Rhythm Changes:

Contributors

253

Jazz Cultures and European Identities (2010–2013). She has published on the connections between jazz and literature, as well as on jazz in diverse national and spatial configurations. Her current monograph project, Improvising Citizenship: Jazz Festivals and Trans-Atlantic Practices, investigates jazz festivals as meeting grounds between local and global understandings of jazz. Her articles have appeared in The Journal for Transnational American Studies, African and Black Diaspora, Jazzforschung/Jazz Research and Amerikastudien/American Studies. Fatima El-Tayeb is Associate Professor of Literature and Ethnic Studies and Associate Director of Critical Gender Studies at the University of California, San Diego. She is the author of two books, European Others. Queering Ethnicity in Postnational Europe (University of Minnesota Press, 2011) and Schwarze Deutsche. Rasse und nationale Identitaet, 1890–1933 [Black Germans. Race and National Identity, 1890–1933] (Campus, 2001), as well as of numerous articles on the interactions of race, gender, sexuality, and nation. Before coming to the U.S., she lived in Germany and the Netherlands were she was active in black feminist, migrant, and queer of color organizations. She is also co-author of the movie Alles wird gut/Everything will be fi ne (Germany, 1997). Petter Frost Fadnes holds a PhD in Performance (saxophone). He is an Associate Professor at The Department of Music and Dance, University of Stavanger, and the former principal investigator for the HERAfunded research project Rhythm Changes: Jazz Cultures and European Identities. In his music he performs with players from mainly Norway and the UK, and continues to seek “the perfect melody” through eclectic musical approaches within the settings of improvised music. Frost Fadnes performs regularly with The Geordie Approach, The Thin Red Line, and Kitchen Orchestra. Johan Fornäs is a Professor of Media and Communication Studies at Södertörn University in Sweden, with a background in Musicology and Cultural Studies. He created the Advanced Cultural Studies Institute of Sweden as well as Culture Unbound: Journal of Current Cultural Research, and has published several books in English, including In Garageland: Rock, Youth and Identity (1995), Cultural Theory and Late Modernity (1995), Consuming Media: Communication, Shopping and Everyday Life (2007), Signifying Europe (2011) and Capitalism: A Companion to Marx’s Economy Critique (2013). Abdalla Gasimelseed, PhD in Sociology from the University of Bombay. Gasimelseed has been doing research for several years at several universities in the Middle East as well as in Sweden. Expert in development

254 Contributors issues, gender, peace issues and democratic development in The Horn of Africa, especially Sudan. Works at Peace Quest International in Uppsala, Sweden. Paul Gilroy is a Professor of American and English Literature at King’s College London. He is the author of several books including There Ain’t no Black in the Union Jack: The Cultural Politics of Race and Nation (1987), The Black Atlantic: Modernity and Double Consciousness (1993) and Postcolonial Melancholia (2004). Amel Gorani is a Sudanese international development consultant, and peace and women’s rights activist. She has served as Senior Advisor for Marginalized and Vulnerable Groups at the USAID-Sudan Mission, and has worked as Program Officer for Africa in the International Women’s Program at the Open Society Foundations in New York and The Swedish International Development Agency’s (Sida) Sudan and Somalia programs. Her recent work has focused on countries in-conflict or emerging from confl ict in Africa. Mohamed Husein Gaas, PhD Student in Development Studies at the Department of International Environment and Development Studies, The Norwegian University for Life Science (UMB), Aas. Tobias Hübinette is an Associate Professor of Intercultural Education at Södertörn University and a Researcher at the Multicultural Centre in Stockholm. His present research is focused on Critical Race and Whiteness Studies in contemporary Sweden. He has also done research on images and representations of Asians in Swedish culture, the concept of transraciality and transracial experiences seen through life narratives of transnational adoptees of color. Outside academia, he is active within the international and multidisciplinary fields of Korean Adoption Studies and Critical Adoption Studies and is a political activist concerning adoption and Korea-related topics. Ole Izard Høyer is a PhD Fellow at the University of Aalborg, Denmark. He is also a researcher at the Center of Danish Jazz Studies at the Department of Culture and Global Studies, AAU. Momodou Jallow is the founder and chair of the NGO Pan African Forum for Justice, a board member for the Center Against Racism in Sweden and 2nd Vice-Chair and board member of the European Network Against Racism. Helena Karlsson is a lecturer of Swedish and Scandinavian Studies at ELTE University, Budapest. She holds a PhD in German and Scandinavian

Contributors

255

Studies. Her research interests include national identity, multiculturalism and race in Scandinavian literature and film. Victoria Kawesa writes reports about issues of racial and ethnic discrimination for the European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights (FRA), the European Network Against racism (ENAR), the Equality Ombudsman (DO) and for the Swedish National Board for Youth Affairs. She is currently completing her PhD in Gender Studies at Linköping University. madeleine kennedy-macfoy completed her Postdoctoral Fellowship under the auspices of the EU-funded FEMCIT research initiative (www.femcit. org) at the Centre for Gender Research, University of Oslo. Her research interests include citizenship, diaspora and development studies, especially in relation to Africa and its diasporas, international education policy, gender equality theory, policy and practice, and African women’s organizations in Europe. Together with Richard Bellamy she is the coeditor of the book Citizenship (Routledge, 2014). Nauja Kleist is a Senior Researcher in the Global Transformations Research Unit at the Danish Institute for International Studies (DIIS). She holds a PhD in sociology and an MA in International Development Studies. Her research explores the social, political and cultural aspects of migration and development, return migration, diaspora mobilization, belonging, gender relations, recognition, and identity. Anne Kubai is an Associate Professor of World Christianity and Interreligious Studies at Uppsala University, Sweden. Currently, she is a researcher in Genocide Studies at the Hugo Valentin Centre and a Researcher in Religion and International Migration at the Faculty of Theology, Uppsala University. Her research interests include religion and conflict, religion and international migration, religion and health, gender-based violence, reconciliation and social reconstruction in post-confl ict societies. Kristín Loftsdóttir is a Professor of Cultural Anthropology at the University of Iceland, Reykjavik. Her recent research has focused on racialized identity and whiteness in Iceland, as well as gender and nationalism. Her publications include the coedited Whiteness and Postcolonialism in the Nordic Region (Ashgate 2012) and Teaching ‘Race’ with a Gendered Edge (coedited, ATGENDER, 2012). Marilyn Mazur is a world-renowned percussionist, drummer, composer and bandleader. She was born in New York in 1955 of Polish American and African American parents and has lived in Denmark from age six. Mazur has played with such luminaries as John Tchicai, Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen, Jan Garbarek, Miles Davis, Wayne Shorter and Gil

256 Contributors Evans. She’s the founder and leader of the band Future Song. Her latest album is Celestial Circle (ECM, 2011). Michael McEachrane is the co-editor of Emotions & Understanding: Wittgensteinian Perspectives (Palgrave Macmillan, 2009) and Sverige och de Andra: Postkoloniala perspektiv [Sweden and the Others: Postcolonial Perspectives] (Natur & Kultur, 2001). He has a PhD in Philosophy from Åbo Akademi University in Finland and has taught Philosophy, African American Studies and Human Rights Studies at universities in the U.S. and Sweden, among them City University of New York and the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. Utz Mcknight is currently Chair of Gender and Race Studies, and Associate Professor of Political Science, at the University of Alabama. He received his PhD in Political Science from Lund University 1996. His recent publications include Everyday Practice of Race in America: Ambiguous Privilege (Routledge 2010) and Race and the Politics of the Exception: Equality, Sovereignty, and American Democracy (Routledge 2013). His current research explores the description of the racial subject in liberal society as a problem of history, politics, and community Anders Neergaard is an Associate Professor at the Institute for Research on Migration, Ethnicity and Society (REMESO), Linköping University. His current research is focused on racialization in the labour market, as well as the cultural racist party Sweden Democrats (Mulinari, D. and A. Neergaard (2014). “We are Sweden Democrats because we care for others: Exploring racisms in the Swedish extreme right.” European Journal of Womens Studies 21(1).) Saifalyazal Omar works with the NGO Forum Syd in Sweden on Development Cooperation in the Horn of Africa. He is the holder of a master’s degree in Development Studies from the Swedish University of Agricultural Sciences. Shailja Patel. Kenyan poet, playwright, theatre artist and activist Shailja Patel was 2009 African Guest Writer at the Nordic Africa Institute. She is the author of the poetry bestseller MIGRITUDE. It has been translated into Swedish and published by Celanders förlag. The African Women’s Development Fund named her one of Fifty Inspirational African Feminists, and Poetry Africa honored her as Letters to Dennis Brutus Poet. She represented Kenya at the Poetry Parnassus Festival of the London Cultural Olympiad. www.shailja.com Anna Rastas (Dr.Soc.Sc) is currently working at the University of Tampere as Professor of Social Anthropology (fi xed term) at the School of Social

Contributors

257

Sciences and Humanities. Her doctoral dissertation (2007) dealt with racism in the everyday lives of children. She has edited books on multiculturalism and racism in Finland and published several articles and chapters on racialized relations and identities, transnational subjectivities, representations of Africans and African diaspora as well as ethnographic and participatory research methods. Her other research interests include whiteness studies, critical childhood and youth studies and the ethics and politics of knowledge production in research on minorities. Kitimbwa Sabuni is the former Secretary General of the National Association of Afro-Swedes and its current spokesperson. Sabuni holds an MBA in business administration and has extensive experience as an educator in the subjects of diversity, racism and discrimination. He has published several reports and articles on topics related to racism and is currently a consultant in Diversity Management. Minna Salami is a blogger, writer and social commentator on African feminism, pop culture, and race, and is founder/editor of the multiple award-nominated blog MsAfropolitan.com and an online shop, The MsAfropolitan Boutique. She is the winner of the African Diaspora Awards Outstanding Achievement in Media Award 2013, listed as one of “40 African change-makers under 40” by Applause Africa, and one of 50 Remarkable Women connected by Nokia. She is also a contributor to the Guardian Africa Network. Minna’s degrees include a Master of Arts with Distinction in Gender Studies from the University of London, School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS). John Tchicai (1936–2012) was an internationally acclaimed Afro-Danish American free-jazz saxophonist and composer. Tchicai recorded with artists such as John Coltrane (Ascension), Albert Ayler (New York Eye and Ear Control) and John Lennon (Life with Lions), founded ensembles like New York Art Quartet, Cadentia Nova Danica and John Tchicai & the Archetypes. He composed and recorded both jazz and classical music. Tsegaye Tegenu has a B.A. in History form Addis Ababa University, M.A. in Modern African Studies from Leipzig University, Germany, and PhD in Socio-Economic History from Uppsala University, Sweden. He has worked at Uppsala University, Stockholm Institute for Futures Studies and Stockholm University. He has published a number of articles and reports and two books. Marja Tiilikainen is Academy Research Fellow at the Department of Social Research, University of Helsinki. Her ongoing research project titled Islam and Security Revisited: Transnational Somali Families in

258 Contributors Finland, Canada and Somalia is funded by the Academy of Finland. She has conducted long-term research on Somali migrants and carried out ethnographic research both in Finland, Somaliland and Canada. Her latest publications include articles in the journals of Medical Anthropology (2011), Nordic Journal of African Studies (2011) and Transcultural Psychiatry (2010).

Index

A Adelsohn-Liljeroth, Lena, 4, 120–124, 126, 133, 135 Adeniji, Anna, 5, 149ff. Africanness, 163, 167, 169 Afrikan Youth, 49, 50 Africentrism, 173 Afro-Nordics, iii, xv, xvii Afrophobia, 8, 9, 121, 228, 230 Ahlberg, Beth, Maina, 120ff. Almenn landskipunarfræði (General Geography), 24 Angelou, Maya, 168, 176 anti-black racism, i, 121, 144–148 anti-racism, i, 52, 91, 106, 127, 131, 135, 138, 141, 167 Arab world 7–9, 189, 239, 241 Arklöv, Jackie, xvi Armstrong, Louis, 2, 58, 59, 63, 64, 70, 138 Arnold, Harry, 68 Assistens Kirkegård, 2, 69 Ayler, Albert, 72, 74, 80

B Baartmann, Sarah, 122, 193 Babs, Alice, 61 Babylonian Talmud, 20 Baker, Chet, 67, 70 Baldwin, James, 19 Banlieues. See suburbs Baraka, Amiri, 75 Baker, Josephine, 59, 214 bebop, 66, 70, 76 bell hooks, 7, 168, 176 Ben Webster Foundation, 69, 74 Besigye, Bertrand, 5, 162–175, 178 Black Arts Movement, 75, 169 black Atlantic, xiv, 6–7

blackness, i, xv, 17, 18, 58, 59, 62, 63, 70, 122, 129, 145, 148, 153, 156, 162, 163, 170, 173, 179, 189, 218, 219, 241 black skull consciouness, 142–146 “bluemen” (blámaður), 20, 23 Bone, Martyn, 8, 187ff. Bonilla-Silva, Eduardo, 103, 138 Braidotti, Rosi, 150, 158 Breivik, Anders Behring, xi, xiv Brown, Cecil, 57ff.

C Campbell, Jimmy, 64–66 Campbell, Jonny, 64–66 Carr, Claudette, 57ff. Cesaire, Aimé, 89, 110, 169, 172 Chakrabarty, Dipesh, 18 Charter of Fundamental Rights of the EU, 88 Cherry, Don, 74, 78 citizenship, xiii, xiv, 45, 110, 152, 191, 212, 227, 248 civilization, 2, 3, 5, 18, 58, 90–92, 107, 109, 163, 169, 171, 172, 174, 175, 241 Clay, Rosa, 7, 191–196, 203 colonialism, xi–xiii, xvi, 1, 3, 6, 7, 8, 10n6, 18, 51, 87, 89–90, 91, 94, 100, 101, 102, 108n23, 110n35, 130, 137, 147. See also neo-colonialism and Nordic exceptionalism in Denmark, 1, 208, 211, 215, 216, 217, 219, 221 in Finland, 190–191, 194–195 in Iceland, 18–19, 21–23 in Norway, 40–41, 164 in Sweden, 1–2, 100–101, 140

260

Index

color-blindness. See race-blindness Coltrane, John, 67, 74, 80 community, national, 2, 6, 42, 46, 48, 51, 58, 150 constitutional patriotism, 103, 104 constitutions. See liberal democratic constitutions Constitution of Sweden, 87 Convention on the Protection of the Rights of All Migrant Families and Members of Their Families, 93 The Crisis, 72 Crenshaw, Kimberlé, 105 critical race theory, i, iii, xi, 113 culturalist, xiii, 111, 144 cultural radicals, 62 culture, xi–xvi, 2–6, 18, 19, 22, 24, 28, 40, 44, 57–76, 87, 88, 90, 94–97, 104–106, 109, 111, 123, 130, 133, 141, 144, 150, 151, 153, 154, 160, 163, 169–174, 176, 191, 195–197, 199–201, 209, 211, 213, 219, 221, 232, 234–238, 244, 246, 248. See also multiculturalism culturespeak, 199

enlightenment, 21, 88–93, 107, 108, 109 equality, xiv, xv, 3, 5, 26, 39, 41–42, 44, 45, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 100, 102, 104, 107n3, 107n14, 109n26, 111n48, 113n80, 125, 130,138, 139, 142, 151, 152, 164, 242, 244, 246, 248, 249. See also gender equality equality zone, 88, 104–106 Erlingsson, Haukur, 19 Essed, Philomena, i, xx, 105, 113 ethnic absolutism, xiii ethnicity, xii, xiii, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 40, 41, 44, 45, 51, 57, 67, 74, 87, 95, 96, 97, 100, 102, 104, 105, 106, 150, 151, 154, 155, 167, 188, 194, 217, 238, 241, 242, 243, 244 ethnonational, 103, 152. See also Nationalism and Nation-State Etymologiae, 19, 30 The European Union Minorities and Discrimination Survey, 8, 100, 227 exploitation, 4, 5, 41, 94, 122, 131, 133, 164, 174, 190

D

Fadnes, Petter Frost, 57ff. Farmer, Art, 68 female genital mutilation (FGM), 44, 125, 129 feminism, xvi, 39, 42, 43, 45, 50, 102. See also Intersectionality Fornäs, Johan, 57ff. Fryxell, Anders, 67 förorter. See suburbs

Davis, Miles, 3, 67, 80–82 Delta Rhythm Boys, 68 democracy. See liberal democracy demographics, 5, 6, 191, 219, 220, 227 deracialize, 88, 103, 104 Diakité, Madubuko A., xx, 120ff. diaspora, i, iii, xix, 1, 6–8, 139, 149, 187–191, 202, 203, 227, 238, 240, 245, 247. See also New African Diaspora and Black Atlantic Dínus saga, 20 Dvinge, Anne, 57ff. Dixon, Bill, 74 Domnérus, Arne, 68, 69 Drew, Kenny, 2, 69, 70 Du Bois W.E.B., 6, 19, 165, 208, 230, 238 Duh, Abdalla, 9, 227ff.

E ECM (Edition of Contemporary Music), 78–80, 81, 82, 83 Eicher, Manfred, 77, 83 El-Tayeb, Fatima, 120ff.

F

G Gaines, Lee, 68 Garbarek, Jan, 3, 78, 80, 81, 83 Gaas, Mohamed Husein, 227ff. Gasimelseed, Abdalla, 227ff. Gates, Henry, Louis Jr, 73 gender equality, 5, 39, 42, 45, 95, 102, 104, 125, 130, 152, 225n55, 242 Getz, Stan, 67, 71 Gilroy, Paul, i, xi, 6, 8, 18, 106, 162, 208, 211, 212 Goldberg, David, T. 51 Gorani, Amel, 9, 227ff. Gordon, Dexter, 69, 71 Gordon, Lewis, R., 5 Gullestad, Marianne, 41–49, 164 Gullin, Lars, 67, 68

Index H Habel, Ylva, 113n79, 160n5 Habermas, Jürgen, 103, 248 Hálfdánarson, Guðmundur, 22 Hall, Stuart, 45, 173 Hallberg, Bengt, 67, 68 Hanisch, Carol, 46 Hannerz, Ulf, 199 Hardt, Michael, 172–174 Harlem Kiddies, 2, 3, 64–66 Harlem Renaissance, 8, 169, 208–213 Haynes, Roy, 68 Helsinki Jazz Festival, 74 Henningsen, Poul, 62 Herder, Johann, Gottfried, 22 Hermansen, Benjamin, xiv, 49 Hill Collins, Patricia, 105 Højer, Ole Izard, 57ff. hottentott cake, 120, 148 Hübinette, Tobias, 120ff. Hughes, Langston, 169 human dignity, 2, 3, 6, 87–94, 102–106, 107, 108, 111, 113, 242, 243 humanism, 89, 94, 106 human rights, iii, xiv, xx, 1, 4, 44, 87–94, 103–106, 107–110, 128, 130, 225, 237, 240, 243, 246, 248 Hutchinson, George, 211–215

I imperialism, iii, xvi, 18, 21, 94 The International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination, 89 intersectionality, xx, 5, 39, 40, 42, 43, 46, 47, 51, 105, 129, 148, 194, 244 ISAF (International Security Assistance Force), xii islamophobia, 8, 141, 148, 222, 228, 230, 235, 244

J Jallow, Momodou, 120ff. Jazz, 57ff. Age, 57, 214, 219 Golden Age of Danish, 63, 66 Golden Years of Swedish Jazz, 66 Johansson, Jan, 61, 67 Jonathan, Hans, 25, 29 James, Joy, i, xx Jones, Quincy, 2, 68, 69 Jones, Ted, 74

261

Jones, Thad, 69, 70 Jordan, Duke, 68, 69

K Kamp-Larsen, Herluf, 60, 71 Kant, Immanuel, 108nn23, 25 kennedy-macfoy, madeleine, 2, 39ff. Karlsson, Helena, 5, 162ff. Kawesa, Victoria, xix, xx, 5, 57ff. Kleist, Nauja, 227ff. Kubai, Anne, 227ff.

L Larsen, Nella, 8, 208–223 Lateef, Yusef, 69 Lee, Spike, 136 Lewis, Gail, 5, 46, 47 liberal democracy, xi–xii, 3, 87–94, 103–107, 243 liberal democratic constitutions, 87, 89, 104 liberalism, xiii, 88, 92, 97, 103–104, 105, 106–107n3, 123, 127. See also neo-liberalism The Life and Loves of Mr Jiveass Nigger, 73 Linde, Makode, 120–146 Lindgren, Astrid, 61, 67 Linneus, Carl, 2, 10, 140 Loftsdóttir, Kristín, 1, 17ff., 33n68 Locke, Alain, 176 Locke, John, 103 Lorde, Audre, 45, 134 Lundahl, Mikaela, 171 Lundkvist, Artur, 57, 59, 61 Löfgren, Orvar, 22

M Malone, Leonard, 72 Marselis, Randi, 27, 217, 221 Matos, Palés, Luis, 169 McEachrane, Michael, i, xixff., 1ff., 3–4, 29n10, 57ff., 87ff., 112n66, 113n79, 120ff., 175–175n6, 227ff. Mazur, Marilyn, 57ff. McKnight, Utz, 57ff. Métissage, 169, 173 Metronome, 2, 67–68 The Midnight Sun Never Sets, 57, 69 Mill, John, Stuart, 103 Mills, Charles W., i, xx, 89, 90, 108 minstrelsy, 125, 127 mixed race, 5, 65, 126, 138, 147, 148, 149–159, 216–217

262

Index

Muggur (Guðmundur Thorsteinsson), 26 multiculturalism, xii, xvi, 18, 26, 27, 97, 100, 136, 141, 142, 232, 233, 235, 248 Mutua, Makau W., i, xx, 89, 90, 92, 110, 130 Myrdal, Alva, 106, 107 Myrdal, Gunnar, 3, 107

N NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People), 72 Nakayama, Thomas, K., 23 national identity. See nation-state and national identity nationalism, xi, xiii, xiv, xv, 18, 62, 67, 152, 176n17, 246, 247. See also ethnonational nation-state, 242, 246, 247. See also etnonational and national identity (or nationhood), xiii, 1, 2, 7, 22, 42, 48, 51, 57, 67, 105, 141, 159, 219, 221, 222 as racial state, 88, 103 Naturalis Historae Praefatio, 20 Neergaard, Anders, 57ff. Negrastrákarnir (The Negro-boys), 26 Negri, Antonio, 172–174 négritude, 169, 172 neo-colonialism, 7, 94 neo-liberalism, xv, xvi, 243 neoimperialism, xvi New African Diaspora, 7, 8, 238 Newland, Courttia, 43 Nielsen, Carl, 59, 60 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 172 Nkrumah, Kwame, 94, 247 nomadic subject, 5, 150, 158–159

O Obiora, Eugene Ejike, xiv Olympe De Gouge, 90 Omar, Saifalyazal, 227ff.

P Palme, Olof, 1, 9, 141 Parlan, Horace, 70 Patel, Shailja, 57ff. Pedersen, Ørsted, Niels-Henning, 255 Pettiford, Oscar, 69 Pittsburgh Courier, 73 Plinius the Elder, 20

primitivism, 8, 59, 175, 214, 215, 219

Q Quicksand 8, 209–215, 219–224. See also Nella Larsen

R race US-centrism in the study of, xvi politics of, xiii, xiv. See also raceblindness and biology, xiii, 2, 4, 40, 87, 91, 95, 96, 98–99 -blindness, 94, 99, 101, 141, 145, 146, 150, 157 and ethnicity, 96–97 and skin-color, 97–98 and social meaning, 98–99 See also mixed race racial equality, 5, 94, 95, 111, 113, 138, 164, 242 Racial Equality Directive, 95, 111, 113 racial state. See nation-state as racial state Ramel, Povel, 61, 66 Rastas, Anna, 7, 187ff. Reardon, Jenny, 98 romanticism national, 59, 78 racial, 172 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 103 Riedel, Georg, 61, 67, 68 roma, 4, 99, 189 Russell, George, 80

S saami, 40, 52 Sabuni, Kitimbwa, 57ff. Said, Edward, xiii, 18 Salami, Minna, 57ff. Sawyer, Lena, 34n92, 52n7, 113n79 Senghor, Léopold Sedar, 169, 171, 172 Shepp, Archie, 74, 75 Skírnir, 22–24 Smedley, Audrey, 20 social democracy, xiii, xv, 106, 107 Social Democrats (Sweden), 58, 106 Stanley, Henry Morton, 23 suburbs, 143, 145, 234

T talking back 7, 8, 187, 188, 198, 200, 201–202 Tchicai, John, 2, 3, 57ff. Tegenu, Tsegaye, 227ff.

Index Thigpen, Ed, 69 Third Reich, xi Thomas, Rosita, 74 Thornton, Robert, 21 Thorsteinsson, Guðmundur (Muggur), 26 Tiilikainen, Marja, 227ff. Timmermann, Kai, 64–66 transnationalism, 6, 18–19, 25, 29, 45, 71, 158, 162, 167–168, 187, 194, 196, 200, 208, 211, 212, 218, 246, 247, 249

U UNESCO statements, 91, 96, 98, 109 United Nations, 88, 91, 92, 107, 109, 111, 140 Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 87, 91, 92, 104, 110

V Veraldar Saga (World History), 20

263

Vaughan, Sara, 69

W Walker, Kara, 136 Walker, Nellie, 209. See Larsen, Nella Wallin, Bengt-Arne, 68, 69 Webster, Ben, 2, 69, 74 Wright, Michelle, 197 whiteness, 19, 27, 28, 70, 127, 133, 139, 141, 147, 148, 150–153, 157, 160, 217, 221, 241 whiteness studies, 19, 160 Wiedemann, Erik, 60, 64, 65 Wilkins, Ernest, 69 Wollstonecraft, Mary, 91, 108n21 World War II, 58, 63–64, 110n35, 191

Z Zetterlund, Monica, 61, 67, 76 Zizek, Slavoj, 172