Abstract

In this text, I reflect on the ethics of focusing on migration in the arts and the social sciences. From my perspective as a researcher in social sciences who sometimes attends exhibitions, I take art as a starting point to unpack the moral, ethical and political dilemmas faced when engaging with migration. Although they are somewhat intractable, I look at existing resources and suggest potential strategies for addressing these dilemmas.

Project #1

The artist interviews Wall Street traders, who come from all over the world to work here. They are asked about their life story, the path that has taken them here, their motivations, successes, failures or disappointments, and their hope for the future. They are then asked to pose wearing clothes and accessories from the 1920s and 1930s. These photos will be used to update original photos from 1929. The portraits of today’s traders will be presented together with those of the past. They will be printed out in large format and presented on the facades of buildings on Wall Street. They will make the diverse histories and identities of the people working there, as well as the continued uncertainty in which they live, impossible to ignore.

Project #2

The Patchwork House, a mobile unit for crafts will, establish the first patchwork workshop in Kreuzberg, Berlin since the nineteenth century. The Patchwork House is inspired by the American quilting traditions and the expat community’s need for objects both functional and spiritual. After having migrated from Europe to America with the Pilgrims, the patchwork tradition will thus be reclaimed on this trip back to Europe. The slow process of quilting aims to foster a sense community and encourage those affected by exile and displacement from Trump’s America to share their experiences. In a series of workshops to be held in the workspace, Berlin-based expats are invited, alongside other Berlin residents, to make ceremonial quilts that will be used by the participants in a symbolic “sleeping ceremony” to exorcise their demons and reconciling them with sound sleep.

I am not an artist, an art critic or a curator, but a social scientist researching migration policies. I have often wondered about similar issues while visiting an exhibition or when reading a book or article about migration, and more specifically about people referred to as “migrants”, “refugees”, “asylum-seekers” or “exiles”:[1] artworks that have migration as their focus raise questions about how to interpret the work, but also about why people were represented in this or that way, or about how they had experienced that interaction and what had become of them.

I have made up the two projects outlined above to offer an ironic take on a specific type of projects which most of the time involve less privileged migrant communities. My imaginary projects thus act as a point of departure to reflect on my unease, pinpointing that it originates in part from the unequal ways in which different populations are viewed and represented. In many cases, the focus on non-Western migrants and refugees—especially those stuck in camps or in very dire situations—rather than on more well-off migrants in better conditions —stems from the desire to speak of their difficulties, but also from the relative or perceived availability of some versus others. My imaginary projects seem unlikely because the time of different categories of people is often not equally valued. Whereas the traders of Wall Street or the American “expats” (a term fraught with class and race undertones[2]), might not have any time, or be willing to give any time—if they were open to participation to an art project in the first place—other categories are seen as more willing, and even welcoming to anything that will distract them from their living conditions.

A number of press articles and research on people in refugee or asylum-seekers camps describe boredom as a prevalent feature,[3] and any project therefore can be perceived as helping people “kill time” before the benefits of “giving a voice” or “empowerment” are even mentioned. However, this shows a tendency to value people’s time differently, alongside what involvement in an art project can bring them, often without questioning underlying assumptions. The structural causes creating terrible situations in camps are made invisible by the term boredom. One could argue that, much like the unpaid labour and the emotional cost of having to leave a social network and being “back to square one” for people who have been deported, the time of people who are made to wait for months or years in refugee camps, transit centres or administrative limbo can be considered “stolen time” as Shahram Khosravi describes it.[4] If this time is stolen, then, what does it mean to use it to produce art or research projects? Is it an exploitation of this time, or can it sometimes be seen as a way to reclaim part of this time, as, it could be argued, was the case when Behrouz Boochani and Aras Kamali Sarvestani collaborated to make a documentary film on the Manus island detention centre?[5] These questions show that there are no easy answers to the ethical questions that might arise when creating art or conducting research on migration.

Can “border voyeurism” be avoided? A List of Dilemmas

In a way, we have all become more or less (un)willing spectators to what Nicholas De Genova has called the “border spectacle”, created by the securitisation of migration and borders,[6] and the line between attention, fascination and what we could call “border voyeurism” is often difficult to navigate. In watching the border spectacle, one’s attention is often most captivated by the most sordid or scandalous. The aesthetic emotions derived from art, or from research, with the “knowledge emotions” associated to thinking and comprehending,[7] obscure the ethics of engaging with migration and borders, making artistic or research engagement fraught with ethical dilemmas. This is not specific to the fields of art / research. The ambiguity of acting within the border spectacle is intrinsic to journalism and reporting: Behrouz Boochani, for example, on the basis of his experience both as a journalist and as the “object” of reporting as a detainee of the Manus detention centre, compares journalists, to “vulture[s]”, “always seeking out horrific events.”[8] This ambiguity is also present within humanitarian work: humanitarian work at the border has in many ways participated in the shaping and even strengthening of border control.[9] Similarly, artists and the social scientists engaging in work on migration risk becoming “migrant eaters”, to use the expression derived by Ruben Andersson from an interview with Mohammadou, a repatriate, in Senegal. Mohammadou starts by asking him rather directly “what can you offer us? And what do you want?”, which, as it turns out, is the result of having encountered too many research visitors. He explains that “A lot of people have passed by here, but every time they go back to Europe, there’s nothing. Ils mangent sur nous” (They eat from/on us).[10]

The systems funding both art and research in the West privilege visible topics: by focusing on these topics, even of it is to say that they should not be viewed as a “problem”, artists and researchers might be reinforcing the idea that it is to be examined and studied, and hence could potentially be a problem. They therefore become part of a system in which the “migration industry”[11] includes a “migration control industry”[12], as well as potentially a “migration research” or “migration art” industry. In this industry, relevance is determined by the political, policy and media context. The “visual economy”[13] produced by this context promotes certain images at the expense of others, as well as sometimes fixed representations of migration and mobility.[14] This might result in what Emma Chubb calls “migratory orientalism”, i.e. the tendency to “focus exclusively on non-Western illegal immigration to Europe,” which in fact risks “re-inscribing the very Euro-American-centrism and colonial center/periphery model that it purports to disrupt” even though it is used as a way to “critique globalization and to posit a new humanism.”[15] In addition, the influence of political and media attention explains why some groups become “over-researched”—leading to “research fatigue” among certain communities —while others are “under-researched.”[16] Although research might ultimately be viewed as useful by the very same people who demonstrated research fatigue, as Cleophas Karooma encountered when she returned to meet her respondents several years later,[17] the logic of collecting and publicising “refugee stories” can sometimes reinforce the essentialisation of refugee identities and their objectification, rather than challenge it.[18]

This is only one example of the paradoxical nature of this type of work, and of the dilemmas it might raise. In spite of this, I do not mean to say here that nobody should work on migration because of ethical qualms. I am not so much interested in evaluating the morals or ethics of specific existing art pieces or research programmes.[19] I am more interested in listing possible dilemmas that are important to lay out before undertaking future ones and to continue considering as projects unfold:

-Should I focus on “migrants”, in order to provide a platform for visibility, but at the same time run the risk of constraining people within a set of representations, turning them into the object of a curious, othering gaze? Or do I not focus on them, thus implicitly accepting their relative invisibility as people, or letting it be?

-How do I deal with the automatic limits that come with selecting who to work with? Should that discourage any attempt at working on/with less-privileged migrants, thus reinforcing the silencing of their voices? If I choose to focus on the system that creates the situation, do I not run the risk of somewhat rendering invisible the very people this system has consequences for? This is in a way the never-ending question of responsibility in studying a subaltern who “cannot speak”.[20]

-If I decide to research/do a project, what is the status of people in my project? Are they simply the object of my study, or is developing a collaboration possible? If so, it will inevitably be flawed by the practical constraints and difficulties of engendering a truly egalitarian collaboration in such a context: how do I eschew exploitation?

-In order to avoid this, do I make the art or write about the artist/researcher instead, presenting the path of my reflection, my own position, maybe my privilege, but run the risk of being self-centred or entitled? Or do I make it only about the people, but then run the risk of being exploitative?

-And finally, if I want to describe “migrants and refugees” as the same as “us”, “humanising” them and insisting on universality, I may run the risk of minimising both the problems they are confronted with and the privileges of others. But if I describe them as heroic in the face of these problems, or focus on discovering their cultures and traditions, am I not also running the risk of “othering”?

These might seem like slightly exaggerated extremes, in which compromises could be found, but they show the difficulty of engaging with the topic of migration. A difficulty that does not mean engagement should be abandoned, but that a number of ethical points should be considered, and the (necessarily imperfect) choices and decisions made explicit.

Existing Resources

I am not the first person to reflect on these issues, and have come across a number of practical resources. A particularly useful one is a list made in 2015 by Tania Cañas, the Art Director and a member of RISE, “Refugees, Survivors and Ex-detainees”, the first refugee and asylum seeker organisation in Australia to be run and governed by refugees, asylum seekers and ex-detainees, titled “Ten things to consider if you are an artist – not of the refugee or asylum seeker community – looking to work with our community”. She lists ten points:

1. Process not product

We are not a resource to feed into your next artistic project. (…)

2. Critically interrogate your intention

Our struggle is not an opportunity, or our bodies a currency, by which to build your career. Rather than merely focusing on the “other” (“where do I find refugees”… etc.) subject your own intention to critical, reflexive analysis. What is your motivation to work with this particular subject matter? Why at this particular time?

3. Realise your own privilege

What biases and intentions, even if you consider these “good” intentions, do you carry with you? (…)

4. Participation is not always progressive or empowering

Your project may have elements of participation but know how this can just as easily be limiting, tokenistic and condescending. Your demands on our community sharing our stories may be just as easily disempowering. What frameworks have you already imposed on participation? What power dynamics are you reinforcing with such a framework? What relationships are you creating? (…)

5. Presentation vs representation

Know the difference!

6. It is not a safe space just because you say it is

This requires long-term grass-roots work, solidarity and commitment.

7. Do not expect us to be grateful

We are not your next interesting arts project. Our community are not sitting waiting for our struggle to be acknowledged by your individual consciousness nor highlighted through your art practice.

8. Do not reduce us to an issue

We are whole humans with various experiences, knowledge and skills. We can speak on many things; do not reduce us to one narrative.

9. Do your research

Know the solidarity work already being done. (…)

10. Art is not neutral

Our community has been politicised and any artwork done with/by us is inherently political. If you wish to build with our community know that your artistic practice cannot be neutral.[21]

It is striking to see, in the first point, another iteration of the eating/feeding metaphor. This checklist, and other tools, such as the “Toolkit for Creative arts, migration and advocacy” (available in English, French and Arabic) created by Arts for Advocacy, answer some of the dilemmas listed above with practical clues for navigating complex situations.[22] They can be useful for artists as well as for researchers.

Participation / Collaboration

Some have suggested, as an answer to the ethical difficulties of conducting research with “vulnerable groups”, a more participatory approach, in which participants are involved in different stages of the project, including after the researcher has left “the field”.[23] However, these also pose their own challenges, as pointed by Cañas when she writes that “participation is not always empowering”.[24] I would argue that several steps should be taken before elaborating a participatory or collaborative project—steps that could also lead to privilege other avenues of research / art.

A first important step is to acknowledge relations of power and privilege. Acknowledge our privilege if we can fund our careers by studying or representing or working on migration; acknowledge that empathy and emotion can also lead to insensitive work, in spite of the best intentions. This raises the question of the reasons behind the project and of the targeted audience for the work—especially for art projects. Unexpected uses of my work might happen, and although they are impossible to predict[25], what questions can I ask myself to try to imagine the potential risks of the representation I propose? If art is not neutral, what is the project trying to achieve? Am I asking people to perform their own identity, and in this process, am I trying to “outsource authenticity”, to use Claire Bishop’s expression in her reflection on participatory art?[26] Is participation actually necessary to the project? And if so, why?

A second step is to do sufficient preparatory research in order to mutualise efforts and minimise risks and costs for those who are not in such a position of privilege. Researching Syrians in Turkey, Maissam Nimer notes the risk of researching refugee communities that are already “over-researched”—or, as an interviewee tells her, “We always talk and talk and nothing changes.”[27] She suggests that researchers should adopt a more systemic approach, questioning “the broader political economy of global research involved in the funding allocation and research design.”[28] A practical way to do this for research would be, for example, through the coordination of efforts, in particular with local researchers and institutions, when fieldwork is conducted outside European or North American countries. Naohiko Omata suggests similar coordination efforts, and includes “researchers, aid organisations, consulting firms, students and even journalists”.[29] In this case, collaboration is not necessarily with the people who are the “subjects” of research, but with other researchers—including those who might be part of the community themselves, but whose knowledge and skills as researchers have been made less visible by their living conditions, by prejudice and by systemic factors making their access to research positions complicated. While this type of collaboration might not be possible in the same manner for art projects, similar funding logics and structural factors are at play, and other strategies could probably be elaborated to attempt to resist their underlying objectifying dynamics—for example by identifying artists within the community and collaborating directly with them. A broader issue at stake is to reflect on the ways in which access to positions in research/art might be broadened to include people with diverse backgrounds.

Finally, a third step: once participation or collaboration has been established as the best way to conduct a project, a practical approach to clarifying costs, benefits and risks for all participants and collaborators can be determined. This should happen beforehand by considering and laying out clearly what will be expected of people. What are the risks for participants? Leonie Ansems de Vries and Sofie Signe Hansen reflect on this question, following a participatory visual research project in Calais, in which they asked people in the “jungle” to take photographs of their daily life. In their attempt to avoid “speaking for people”, they were met with the reluctance of potential participants, mainly because taking photographs put them and others at risk, especially after police repression increased.[30] This also means that refusal should be a real possibility for participants and should be accepted as such. Rifaie Tammas underlines that “while most […] organisations are well-meaning and do not directly coerce refugees to share their stories, there is often an expectation that refugees owe the wider public their stories. Thus, the expectation of sharing one’s story can transform into an obligation.”[31] However, as the RISE list emphasises, you are simply not due participation. In addition, refusal can lead us to understand that the project as it is presented or exists might not function as intended for security reasons (which led Ansems de Vries and Hansen to modify their protocol), or for moral reasons for example.

Some further questions to clarify relate to expectations: do I expect participants to give me their time? And if so, what can I offer in return? Do I see them as collaborators, co-creators, or as participants? Have I made this clear to everyone involved? This in turn leads to issues regarding the process afterwards: how will people be referred to? How should participants be named, in particular if they are co-creators of the pieces, in artistic projects? How visible should their name be? What if it has been established that they are not co-creators but “simple” participants? Research and journalism often have constraints of anonymisation, but how is this anonymisation effected? In any given piece, who is referred to by their full name, only their last or only first name, and why?

These questions are also raised in collaborative projects and subcontracting. Examining the logics of subcontracting in what they call “the UK Overseas Syrian refugees research industry”, Mayssoun Sukarieh and Stuart Tannock argue that issues of authorship and intellectual property are central in the sense of exploitation of Lebanese research assistants.[32] In the case of participatory art, it is helpful to make the conditions of production visible. In exhibitions, I have often found myself wondering if the people participating in projects were paid or not. Where journalists often hold that sources should not be paid, art does not function in the same way, and even if some people volunteer, clarifying the status of participants and the time spent with the artist would help in giving insight in the conditions of production, and ultimately, the meaning of the piece.

A Note on Migrant/Exile/In-between Artists/Researchers

Finally, I would like to conclude with a short note on the specific position of artists/researchers who have themselves experienced migration or in-between-ness. The unspoken assumption regarding them is often that, because of their personal histories, they are more sensitive, or more legitimate, to discuss migrants’ stories. However, not questioning one’s practice because of this assumption can also lead to insensitive work. In this case, one is faced with specific, additional dilemmas.

-Should one focus on one’s own story or look at others and go beyond their own story? In the first case one runs the risk of being seen as someone capable only of thinking on a small scope, focused on the personal. There is also a risk of “self-othering” by presenting a story that can appear stereotyped. In this situation, how does one avoid one’s story being used as representative of all other stories, or being used as a token? On the other hand, when going beyond one’s own story it should be acknowledged that the questions about dealing with the stories of others are still relevant.

-How is one’s own identity used in the process of making and presenting a piece? Is it used at all, and if so, it is used implicitly or explicitly? Is it used as a self-legitimising tool or as a tool for analysis?

-What is one’s situation compared to the situation of the people interacted with? Whatever it is, it is important that the privilege of one’s voice being listened be acknowledged.

To conclude: I have asked more questions than I have answered. While some are probably obvious, they are often left unsaid, or at least unwritten, in many projects: while people might discuss them in informal settings, they are rarely at the centre of more formal discussions. There is probably no definitive answer to any of them, yet I believe there is a need to raise them, and continue to raise them more openly. To do research, in art or in social sciences, in a context in which the border spectacle has become prevalent, we need to keep this conversation open.

Footnotes

  1. This non-exhaustive list of terms used to refer to people on the move or who have experienced migration shows the difficulty of using a single term to refer to a great diversity of situations, especially when each term carries implicit representations.
  2. Kunz, Sarah. “Expatriate, migrant? The social life of migration categories and the polyvalent mobility of race”, Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, 2019, https://doi.org/10.1080/1369183X.2019.1584525.
  3. See for example De la Chaux, Marlen. “How can we address the problem of boredom in refugee camps?,” World Economic Forum, September 2015, Retrieved from https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2015/09/how-can-we-address-the-problem-of-boredom-in-refugee-camps/; Murray, Don. “Syrian refugee women battle boredom and bad memories by making carpets,” UNHCR Turkey, February 2017, Retrieved from https://www.unhcr.org/tr/en/12510-syrian-refugee-women-battle-boredom-and-bad-memories-by-making-carpets.html.
  4. Khosravi, Sharham. “Stolen Time”. Radical Philosophy. Vol. 2. No. 03. 2018. Retrieved from https://www.radicalphilosophy.com/article/stolen-time
  5. Behrouz Boochani and Aras Kamali Sarvestani. Chauka, Please Tell Us the Time, 2017.
  6. De Genova, Nicholas. “Migrant ‘Illegality’ and Deportability in Everyday Life”. Annual Review of Anthropology. Vol. 31. 2002. pp. 419-447.
  7. See Silvia, Paul J. “Looking Past Pleasure: Anger, Confusion, Disgust, Pride, Surprise, and Other Unusual Aesthetic Emotions”. Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity, and the Arts, Vol. 3, No. 1, 2009, pp. 48-51.
  8. Boochani, Behrouz. No Friend but The Mountains, Writing from Manus Prison, Translated by Omid Tofighian, Picador, 2018, p.87.
  9. Fassin, Didier. ‘Compassion and Repression: The Moral Economy of Immigration Policies in France’. Cultural Anthropology 20, no. 3 (2005): 362–87; Walters, William. ‘Foucault and Frontiers: Notes on the Birth of the Humanitarian Border’ in Bröckling, Ulrich, Krasmann, Susanne and Thomas Lemke (eds), Governmentality: Current Issues and Future Challenges, NewYork: Routledge, 2011, pp.138-164; Williams, Jill M. ‘From Humanitarian Exceptionalism to Contingent Care: Care and Enforcement at the Humanitarian Border’. Political Geography 47 (2015): pp.11-20; Pallister-Wilkins, Polly. ‘Humanitarian Borderwork’. In Border Politics: Defining Spaces of Governance and Forms of Transgressions, edited by Cengiz Günay and Nina Witjes, Springer International Publishing, 2017, pp.84-103.
  10. Andersson, Ruben. Illegality, Inc.: Clandestine Migration and the Business of Bordering Europe, Oakland, CA: University of California Press. 2014. p. 35.
  11. Rubén Hernández-León. “The Migration Industry in the Mexico-U.S. Migratory System.” California Center for Population Research On-Line Working Paper, 2005, Retrieved from https://escholarship.org/uc/item/3hg44330.
  12. Nyberg Sørensen, Ninna and Gammeltoft-Hansen, Thomas. The Migration Industry and the Commercialisation of International Migration, Routledge, 2013.
  13. Carastathis, Anna, and Myrto Tsilimpounidi. Reproducing Refugees: Photographia of a Crisis. Rowman & Littlefield, 2020, p.80.
  14. Pallister-Wilkins, Polly. ‘There’s A Focus On The Boats Because The Sea Is Sexier Than The Land: A Reflection on the Centrality of the Boats in the Recent “Migration Crisis”’. The Disorder Of Things, 9 December 2015, Retrieved from http://thedisorderofthings.com/2015/12/09/theres-a-focus-on-the-boats-because-the-sea-is-sexier-than-the-land-a-reflection-on-the-centrality-of-the-boats-in-the-recent-migration-crisis/ .
  15. Chubb, Emma. “Differential Treatment: Migration in the Work of Yto Barrada and Bouchra Khalili”. Journal of Arabic Literature. Vol. 46. Nos. 2-3. 2015. pp. 272-273.
  16. Omata, Naohiko. ‘‘’Over-researched’ and ‘under-researched’ refugees”. Forced Migration Review. No. 61. 2019, pp. 15-18; Nimer, Maissam. “‘Reflections on the Political Economy in Forced Migration Research from a ‘Global South’ Perspective”. The Sociological Review. 26 June 2019. Retrieved from https://www.thesociologicalreview.com/reflections-on-the-political-economy-in-forced-migration-research-from-a-global-south-perspective/ .
  17. Karooma, Cleophas. “Research fatigue among Rwandan refugees in Uganda”., Forced Migration Review. No. 61. 2019. pp. 18-19.
  18. Tammas, Rifaie. “Refugee stories could do more harm than good”. OpenDemocracy. 1 November 2019. Retrieved from https://www.opendemocracy.net/en/refugee-stories-could-do-more-harm-good/.
  19. Others have analyzed different pieces in different ways. See for example: Chubb, Emma. “Differential Treatment: Migration in the Work of Yto Barrada and Bouchra Khalili”. Journal of Arabic Literature. Vol. 46. Nos. 2-3. 2015. pp. 272-273; Phelps, Jerome. “Why Is So Much Art about the ‘Refugee Crisis’ So Bad?” Open Democracy, Retrieved from www.opendemocracy.net/en/5050/refugee-crisis-art-weiwei/ Posted May 11, 2017; Nicolaou, Argyro. “Documenting Migration in Contemporary Art: Bouchra Khalili’s The Mapping Journey Project,” Retrieved from https://post.at.moma.org/content_items/1446-documenting-migration-in-contemporary-art-bouchra-khalili-s-_the-mapping-journey-project_ Posted on February 19, 2020.
  20. Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. “Can the Subaltern Speak?” In Colonial Discourse and Post-Colonial Theory. A Reader. New York, NY: Columbia University Press. 1994. pp. 67-111.
  21. Cañas, Tania. “Ten things to consider if you are an artist – not of the refugee or asylum seeker community – looking to work with our community”. Retrieved from http://riserefugee.org/10-things-you-need-to-consider-if-you-are-an-artist-not-of-the-refugee-and-asylum-seeker-community-looking-to-work-with-our-community/ .
  22. “an inter-disciplinary research project funded by the Global Challenges Research Fund at the universities of Edinburgh and Keele. It seeks to develop innovative, interdisciplinary, and participatory arts-based methods to facilitate critical engagement and advocacy relating to forced displacement in Morocco.” Arts for Advocacy. Toolkit for Creative Arts, Migration and Advocacy. 2018. Retrieved from http://artsforadvocacy.org/toolkit/ .
  23. Hugman, Richard, Pittaway, Eileen and Bartolomei, Linda. “When ‘Do No Harm’ Is Not Enough: The Ethics of Research with Refugees and Other Vulnerable Groups.” The British Journal of Social Work. Vol. 41. No. 7. 2011. pp. 1271-1287.
  24. Cañas. “Ten things to consider if you are an artist – not of the refugee or asylum seeker community – looking to work with our community”. op.cit..
  25. Heller, Charles. ‘Perception Management – Deterring Potential Migrants through Information Campaigns.’ Global Media and Communication, 2014.
  26. Bishop, Claire. Artificial Hells: Participatory Art and the Politics of Spectatorship. London: Verso. 2012. p. 219
  27. Nimer, “Reflections on the Political Economy,” op.cit.
  28. Ibid.
  29. Omata, ‘‘’Over-researched’ and ‘under-researched’ refugees,” op.cit., p. 17.
  30. Ansems De Vries, Leonie and Hansen, Sofie Signe. The Violence of Becoming (In)Visible, in El Qadim, Nora, Beste İşleyen and al. ‘(Im)Moral Borders in Practice’. Geopolitics, 2020, 1–31. https://doi.org/10.1080/14650045.2020.1747902.
  31. Tammas, “Refugee stories could do more harm than good,” op.cit.
  32. Sukarieh, Mayssoun and Tannock, Stuart. “Subcontracting Academia: Alienation, Exploitation and Disillusionment in the UK Overseas Syrian Refugee Research Industry.” Antipode. Vol. 51. No. 2. 2019. pp. 664-680.