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Dylann S. Roof, white supremacist perpetrator of the Charleston massacre (2015) resolved to dismiss his lawyers and to represent himself. In the course of the proceedings he wrote extensively, keep...

The murder of the German politician Walter Lübcke in 2019 by a far-right extremist with links to Neo-Nazi groups exposes the need to address European ethnonationalist extremism from a wider array of approaches, one of them, the religious one. European ethno-nationalists have found profitable the distortion of elements of Western Christianity and its use to reject individuals they consider undesirable, especially Muslims and non-European immigrants. By doing this, far-right extremists have managed to consolidate an ideological basis known as Christianism. This work examines the characteristics of the extremist ideology Christianism and its relation to white supremacism, as well as the historical bias of the Crusades they use and that is a central part of their ideology. This work analyses the manifesto written by white supremacist terrorist Brenton Tarrant with the aim to expose the relation between white supremacism and Christianism, as well as the influence on terrorist acts against non-Europeans in the West, and the main propositions of such extremist ideology. The conclusion proposes the need of better education in history and critical thinking skills in societies affected by white supremacism, as well as the participation of followers of traditional Christianity in counter extremism efforts

In 1937, just as South Africa was closing its borders to German-Jewish refugees, Anne Fischer (1914-1986) arrived on Cape Town’s docks with little more to her name than her camera. Having escaped a fascist political system in which similar issues of violence and state-enforced segregation were in play, Fischer was uniquely poised to document the fundamental changes that would come to define South Africa in the decade leading up to the advent of apartheid. In addition to exploring how her gendered experiences of exile informed, and in many ways dictated, the possibilities of her photographic practice in her new colonial context, this chapter begins to chronicle the itinerant photographic careers of her similarly exiled and equally obscured Weimar women colleagues in Cape Town - namely, those of Else Hausmann (n.d.-1971) and Etel Mittag-Fodor (1905-2005). Despite sharing somewhat similar backgrounds, each of these women’s oeuvres is as distinct as their dispositions. Examining their lives and archives in relation to one another affords an opportunity to take into account their divergent relationships with their shared medium and, in so doing, challenges essentialisms that continue to pervade discussions of women’s photographic work. Ultimately, this chapter works to shed light on three of South Africa’s underexposed female photographers and begins to situate Fischer’s early documentary work within the social, historical and political context in which it was produced - one marked by rising white supremacism, heightened antisemitism and the increased realisation of the boundaries that circumscribed the New Woman.

This chapter compares contemporary far-right movements in Australia with far-right movements from the 1930s. By examining the provenance and manifestations of the far right in these periods, the chapter notes the importance of Australia’s early history, especially with regard to the “White Australia Policy” that contributed to a rejection of Australia’s Indigenous population as well as non-white immigration. Movements from both eras, apart from their resurgence during times of apparent or feared economic decline, are shown to exhibit similar characteristics in adherence to a nativist populism, hybrid racism, ambivalence to democracy, and congruence with transnational far-right movements. The chapter concludes that as late as 2019 the ruling coalition government in Australia gained from a politically expedient electoral relationship with a xenophobic far right with roots in earlier far-right movements.

The first written translations from South African indigenous languages were produced by travelling European naturalists in the period of Dutch colonial rule. This translational contact between European science systems and Khoekhoe segmented society expressed Western supremacism and processes of so-called intellectual subjugation. Translation was a form of knowledge extraction and echoed material forms of colonial extraction. In terms of SST, translation was part of European societies’ groping into the environment and facilitated the reduction of environmental complexity while simultaneously drawing a distinction between systemic and environmental characteristics according to degrees of civilisation. Translation possessed a “referential” purpose rather than a directly communicative purpose, since its meaning lay in what it expressed concerning indigenous peoples rather than in the propositional meaning of translated words.

The white supremacist rally in Charlottesville, Virginia in August 2017 was one of the largest to occur in the United States during recent decades, and mirrored the severe social and racial conflic...

Charlottesville is a city in Virginia of just over 48,000 people, formed as an act of assembly in 1762. It is home to the University of Virginia designed by Thomas Jefferson and gateway to Shenando...

This article examines the rise and key characteristics of Neo-Zionist political thought in Israel and its relationship with mainstream Zionist thought. It argues that despite the radical and repulsive discourses of Neo-Zionism and the critique expressed by liberal Zionists towards it, the former has always been embodied in classical Zionism. The justifications provided by Neo-Zionists are based on principles propagated by central leaders of mainstream Zionism. Utilising new perspectives in Settler-Colonial Studies, the article demonstrates how both strands encapsulate the Zionist continuum and continuous expansionist drive for new settlements in Palestine based on ‘Biblical right’ of Jews over the land of Palestine. Both advocate supremacist, exclusivist, and volkish rights for Jews with disastrous consequences for the indigenous people of Palestine. The convictions and practices of the Neo-Zionists in the post 1967 period help unveil the camouflaged motivations, justifications and practices of mainstream expansionist Zionism.

In the wake of several political and social developments across the globe, where majoritarianism and supremacism are fast gaining ground by popular mandate, the fraught relationship between religio...

This article, the first detailed scholarly assessment of northern responses to the death of former Confederate President Jefferson Davis in December 1889, contributes to ongoing academic debates over the troubled process of sectional reconciliation after the Civil War. Southern whites used their leader's funeral obsequies to assert not only their affection for the deceased but also their devotion to the Lost Cause that he had championed and embodied. Based on an analysis of northern newspapers and mass-circulation magazines in the two weeks after Davis's death, the essay demonstrates that many northerners, principally Republican politicians and editors, Union veterans, and African Americans, were outraged by southerners’ flagrant willingness to laud a man whom they regarded as the arch-traitor and that they remained opposed to reconciliation on southern terms. However, despite continuing concerns about public displays of affection for the Confederacy evident at the time of Davis's reinterment in Richmond in May 1893, northern opposition to the Lost Cause waned rapidly in the last decade of the nineteenth century. Full-blown sectional reconciliation occurred after the Republicans gave up on their efforts to enforce black voting rights in the South and President William McKinley's imperialist foreign policy necessitated, and to some degree garnered, support from southern whites. The death of Jefferson Davis, therefore, can be seen as an important event in the difficult transition from a heavily sectionalized postwar polity to a North-South rapprochement based heavily on political pragmatism, sentiment, nationalism, and white supremacism.

Japan’s importation of geopolitics can be divided into two periods: 1925 to the mid-1930s and the mid-1930s to 1945. This chapter examines the former period, when geopolitics was imported but not widely accepted. The first application of German geopolitics refuted the white supremacism in the Pacific region. Although this first appreciation attracted but a few followers, it was the interpretation in this period that set the orientation of Japanese geopolitics, in which geographical determinism was transformed into ecological fatalism. With this conception, Japanese geopoliticians argued that there had been a different world order from Europe in the Pacific region. In this chapter, it is also demonstrated that even in European geopolitics, there had been continuous mutations of the theory of the state as a living organism.

This article considers a particular moment in world history when an instant of epoch-making triumph in the non-West – Japan's defeat of Russia in 1905 – coincided with a period of intense national anxiety in Britain in the wake of the South African War (1899–1902). One outcome of this historical intersection was the emergence in Britain of a euphoric ‘cult of Japan’ that saw many Edwardians, obsessed with the idea of ‘efficiency’, deploy Japan as both a referent for British shortcomings and a model for reform. The article asks why proponents of ‘efficiency’ – most of them ardent imperialists – deemed it acceptable, even strategically advantageous, in such domestic debates to draw upon examples from Japan – an ‘Oriental’ race and former protégé – in apparent contradiction of Western supremacism. The article contends that Britain's emulative attitudes were underpinned by an emergent plural conception of ‘civilization’, which appraised Japan's attainment of civilization as consistent with Western standards whilst at the same time recognizing elements of Japanese particularity – an outlook that justified reciprocal learning.

Clinton A. Hutton, Colour for Colour, Skin for Skin: Marching with the Ancestral Spirits Into War Oh at Morant Bay. Kingston, Ian Randle, 2015. 259 pp.REVIEWED BY F.S.J. LEDGISTERIn the analysis of political thought, one area that is substantially missing is examination of the political thought, or ethos, of ordinary people in history. Clinton Hutton's study of the ideas that led to the Morant Bay Uprising in southeastern Jamaica in 1865 is a major corrective to this. Hutton reexamines the history to show us ordinary black Jamaicans, as well as mixed-race Jamaicans and white Jamaicans and British colonial officials, each driven by normative assumptions about what the proper political order ought to be that led not only to the hinge point in history that the rising and its suppression constituted, but to their understandings of the meaning of that history and their places in it.Hutton's core argument is that the underlying political values of the leaders of the uprising, and their ally George William Gordon, were Afrocentric and clearly derived from ancestral values and practices that had survived the trauma of slavery. The conception of freedom that Paul Bogle and other leaders of the uprising had developed and enunciated was plainly based on black racial solidarity and rejected the value system of white supremacy dominant on the island. However, the evidence that Hutton adduces (as, for example, on page 72) can be read just as easily as demonstrating a Creole identity and adaptation of European models to local use.What is clearly demonstrated is that the ethos of the European ruling class and ruling race in post-Emancipation Jamaica both assumed the innate inferiority of the subordinate race/class and blamed black Jamaicans both for the economic straits in which the colony was bound and for the poverty and misery black people faced, while ignoring a reality in which white, and to a lesser degree, mixed-race Jamaicans continued to exploit the black majority in good times and bad and used the resources of the state to keep the majority in the condition of subordination. We are given a grand tour of the fundamental ideological underpinnings of early and mid-Victorian white supremacy, in the writings of Carlyle and Trollope, and in Colonial Office memoranda, Jamaican newspaper columns, as well as the actual practice of the Jamaican state.The white supremacism of the Victorian colonial state is contrasted with the emergent black nationalism of Bogle and his fellow black nationalists, and the progressive ideology that Bogle shared with mixed-race and white allies such as George William Gordon. Hutton, arguing from analogy with Haiti, emphasises the African roots of these ideas, and sees them as being continued in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries by the Revivalist preacher Alexander Bedward. …

In his 1854 memoir Jail Journal Irish nationalist John Mitchel, having witnessed the devastating consequences of the Famine firsthand, constructs an acerbic critique of British colonial policy that at some points repels the reader. Stirring revulsion are the journal's advocacy of blood sacrifice and, even more, its overt racial supremacism. That racist strain likely explains why, until recently, scholars on both sides of the Atlantic have ignored Jail Journal. Yet, as area studies increasingly engages with a more comparative and transcultural approach, Mitchel's transnational narrative merits a second look. This article breaks ground by identifying startling parallels between this work by a vocal nineteenth-century supporter of slavery in the Americas, and leading slave narratives. It shows clearly the bitter irony that to tell his ultimately supremacist story of victimisation, Mitchel appropriated the slave narrative's tropes of kidnap, of Middle Passage dehumanisation and commodification, of escape, and...

Discussions of early modern philosophical anthropology in postcolonial studies often treat it as tied to Eurocentric conceptions of civilisational supremacism and to the ideologies of imperialism and colonialism served by these conceptions. In discussing the conceptions of man contained in two key early modern doctrines of the law of nature and nations – those of Samuel Pufendorf and Emer de Vattel – this paper casts a sceptical eye on the postcolonial accounts. The anthropologies deployed by Pufendorf and Vattel relate not to European imperialism and colonialism but to intra-European problems associated with the formation of territorial states and the bellicose relations between them.

This dissertation explores the ways in which Coloured South Africans, popularly defined as “mixed race,” responded to disparaging and gendered stereotypes about Coloured men during the first fifty years of Union. White South Africans used both popular media and official rhetoric to portray Coloured men as lazy, cowardly, drunkards, and absentee fathers. In response, Coloured men developed a discourse that lionized loyalty, bravery, athleticism, morality, and respectability. Many Coloured men disputed the acceptability of those who they thought threatened their status as masculine and respectable citizens. Gay and transgender men, or moffies, were the center of one such debate during the 1940s and 1950s, while Coloured skolly gangsters drew public ire beginning in the 1930s. I frame my analyses of this discourse around the concepts of hegemonic and subordinated masculinities to demonstrate the ways in which ideals and practices of masculinities often overlapped, reinforced, and challenged one another on local and global scales. Drawing on archival research conducted in Cape Town in 2011 and 2013-14, this project contends that South African gendered identities emphasized inclusivity and cosmopolitanism that contradicted the exclusive and divisive racial identities promoted under White supremacism.

Historical writing on the coloured community of South Africa has tended to accept coloured identity as given and to portray it as fixed. The failure to take cognizance of the fluidity of coloured self-definition and the ambiguities inherent to the process has resulted in South African historiography presenting an over-simplified image of the phenomenon. The problem stems partly from an almost exclusive focus on coloured protest politics which has had the effect of exaggerating the resistance of coloureds to white supremacism and largely ignoring their accommodation with the South African racial system. Furthermore, little consideration has been given to the role that coloured people themselves have played in the making of their own identity or to the manner in which this process of self-definition shaped political consciousness. This is particularly true of analyses of the period following the inauguration of the Union of South Africa in 1910, a time when the legitimacy of coloured identity was not in any way questioned within the coloured community and when coloured protest politics was dominated by one body, the African Political Organization (APO).

"It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer," writes the narrator of "The Yellow Wall-Paper." "A colonial mansion," she continues, "a hereditary estate, I would say a haunted house, and reach the height of romantic felicity--but that would be asking too much of fate!" (166). In opening "The Yellow Wall-Paper" with a reference to middle-class enthusiasm for ghostly colonial homes, Charlotte Perkins Gilman situates her story within late-nineteenth-century colonial revival discourses about old houses and their offer of intimacy with Anglo-American history. Gilman's take on colonial houses, however, radically revises the historical narratives those structures were imagined to bear forth. In most late-nineteenth-century tales of colonial homes, moderns do, indeed, stumble upon stories of "romantic felicity" (166), from liaisons between colonial youths to tales of patriots' heroic lives. (1) But Gilman's narrator finds quite the opposite in her old mansion: hard-to-read traces of a brutal, gendered history that renders impossible a nostalgic view of the national past. To date, literary scholarship on "The Yellow Wall-Paper," while voluminous, has tended to focus on the story either as a self-contained feminist critique or as a historicized protest against nineteenth-century attitudes about female sexuality, health, and labor. (2) The prominence of "The Yellow Wall-Paper" within Gilman studies and its role as a representative feminist text (if not the representative feminist text of the nineteenth-century United States) has, moreover, often led scholars to treat it as an isolated work, and this has tended to obscure the story's place within larger literary and historical contexts. In this essay I demonstrate that "The Yellow Wall-Paper" was the last in a sequence of three imaginative works that Gilman wrote in early 1890 that explore gender in relation to racialized national and regional histories. These include the short story "The Giant Wistaria" and the unpublished play "In the Name of the King! A Colonial Romance" (co-written with Grace Ellery Charming Stetson) (3) While "In the Name of the King!" has been among the Schlesinger Library's holdings since 1983, until now it has not been recognized as a part of Gilman's body of work and, accordingly, has received no critical attention. As this essay demonstrates, however, it clearly merits consideration by those seeking to understand the range of Gilman's writing and to historicize her most famous story. In late February and early March 1890, just days after she participated in a colonial revival tea in Pasadena, California, Gilman noted in her diary that she and Stetson had begun work on a "Colonial play" (Diaries 412). This play, set in Salem, Massachusetts, became "In the Name of the King!" Although it was never, to my knowledge, produced, this drama marks the beginning of Gilman's exploration of white New England women's historical legacy, an intellectual terrain she continued to chart in "The Giant Wistaria" and "The Yellow Wall-Paper." In fact, less than a week after beginning to write this play, Gilman recorded in her diary that she was working on "The Giant Wistaria," a tale that explores the connections between a colonial New England woman's ghost and young urbanites of the late nineteenth century who rent a colonial mansion in the New England countryside (Diaries 412, 413). And, by early June, Gilman was writing another story that featured women from the past haunting the colonial mansion of the present: "The Yellow Wall-Paper." (4) Recognizing Gilman's engagement of colonial revival discourse has three significant outcomes. First, it gives new insight into Gilman's historical thinking about gender in the United States. (5) Second, it verifies Gail Bederman's claim that "[Gilman's] feminism was inextricably rooted in ... white supremacism" (122). As Alys Eve Weinbaum points out, it has tended to be the scholarship on Gilman's nonfiction writings that have explored and historicized the racist and nativist aspects of Gilman's theories (77). …