Preparing for final presentations

Please post a comment, responding to the post, about your preference for holding our two sessions of the final presentations.

Option 1: Have first session of final presentations instead of class on Wed, December 5th at our usual time. Do not need to read the texts assigned for that day. Second session of final presentations will be on the final exam date as scheduled.

Option 2: Have first session of final presentations on the Monday or Tuesday of finals week, and  second session of final presentations will be on the final exam date as scheduled. We can cancel or keep the Dec 5th class.

Option 3: Have a marathon session of presentations on the Friday of finals week, at my house with potluck and drinks. We can cancel or keep the Dec 5th class, depending on what the majority of students prefer.
 

Aloha Kakou Na Hoapapa:

Allen's "Blood Narrative."

The use of blood memory is articulated by Chadwick Allen who explains,
Indigenous minority writers and activists in the early contemporary period developed a range of narrative tactics that enabled them to define an enduring indigenous identity “blood”) in terms of narratives of connection to specific lands (“memory”), and to use narratives of connection to specific lands (“memory”) to assert an enduring identity (“blood”), (220).
 
     Allen’s blood/land/memory complex was especially constructed to disrupt the colonial inscribed identities assigned to indigenous Native Americans and the Maori within treaty discourses and activist texts. This blood/land/memory complex facilitates  the way in which the Maori and Native Americans define their own indigeneity against definitions of legitimacy prescribed and imposed by colonizers and non-indigenous settlers.
     Allen makes reference to George Manuel, the Shuswaparchitect of the World Council of Indigenous Peoples stating, “Manuel describes the global Aboriginal World as having in common four general characteristics. These engage the blood/land/memory complex in recognizable ways, defining indigenous racial identity (“blood”) largely in terms of “land” and “memory.” In this complex, blood memory serves as the underlying process for the recovery of Native American memories and the re-articulation of their indigenous identities. Kanaka `oiwi have similar traditions to both the Maori and Native Americans in the memory configuration of their `oiwi identity, an imparted memory recordation through oral traditions using chants, songs and dance. Within the context of these devices are accounts of mo`olelo or history, such things as genealogies, events, chiefly exploits, births, deaths, transitions of life, love, and politics. Within those genealogies are the blood/memory componets, of which Allen refers to as "narrative tactics" that define and solidify the connection between blood, land, and memory.
     Perhaps a thought as to how similar or different are those articulations between regional indigenous peoples are. Another question might be, how has Manuel's initial "World Council of Indigenous Peoples," (now the United Nations Permanent Forum on Indigenous Peoples and various Working Groups) managed, under the indigenous identitfication description, to bring their nationals toward a meaningful and collective vision that allows for national autonomy (sovereignty) and facilitated as premised in the "Solemn Declaration's insistence on self-determination within that international arena?

 

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“Conclusion: Declaring a Fouth World.”

I have been wondering what are the visions of indigenous people. In this sense, the most interesting part is “Conclusion: Declaring a Fouth World.” He concludes with a discussion of the 1975 Sloemn Declaration of the World Council of Indigenous Peoples. According to WCIP definition,

Indigenous peoples are such population groups as we are, who from age-old time have inhabited the lands where we live, who are aware of having a character of our own, with social traditions and means of expression that are linked to the country inherited from our ancestors, with a language of our own, and having certain essential and unique characteristics which confer upon us the strong conviction of belonging to a people, who have an identity in ourselves and should thus be regarded by others. (p. 213).

Included in this discussion is reference of George Manuel’s The Fourth World: An Indian Reality, written with Michael Posluns and published in 1974. Manuel characterizes the formerly colonized peoples of the Third World as imitating the First, "rapidly learning to adapt [their] life-style[s] to Western technology", whereas he sees the Fourth World as seeking ultimately to develop a "new society." The Fourth World is "a vision of the future" rooted in "the values, the strengths, and the basic spiritual beliefs" of indigenous ancestors.

Indigenous minority activists and writers have created an interdependent and essentially inseparable triad out of "blood," "land," and "memory," and this triad has come to define minority indigeneity, its celebrated past, its contested present, and its imagined futures.

blood narrative

Hey guys, sorry for the late post, but I just had two things I wanted to possibly explore on in class today.

In the beginning of part 11, an Indigenous Renaissance, the author talks about multiculturalism and it's problematic affects on Indigenous people and recognition/ distinction from minority groups. I never really saw multiculturalism as something that could harm Indigenous understanding. I'd like to hear others thought about this and if/ how this affects us in Hawaiʻi.
I would also like to look at the idea of the Fourth World, mentioned in the conclusion.  There are 4 parts mentioned on pg. 200 and the author furthermore states that the loss of one of these parts can threaten the survival of a group. I was wondering what others thought about this concept and 1)if we could consider Hawaiʻi as part of this or 2) how Hawaiʻi would be affected if one of the parts were taken away.

mahalo

Part II, Chapter III: Rebuilding the Ancestor: Constructing Self and Community in the Maori Renaissance

In chapter III, “Rebuilding the Ancestor,” Allen uses the blood/land/memory complex as a tripartite structure to help recreate contemporary Maori identity.  The blood aspect of the complex symbolizes the affectionate bond between grandparent and grandchild in Maori culture.  This bond is where the oral transmission of cultural/genealogical tradition takes places from one generation to the next.  The story of Whina Cooper, on page 132, describes how this process works as, “an elder walks her land with her grandchild, pointing out its features, speaking its names, reciting its history, and thereby placing the newest generation within the local community’s significant landscape and within the larger Maori universe.”  Here’s my issue with this argument: it assumes that the grandparent is (1) fairly knowledgeable in the culture; and (2) that the grandparent’s knowledge of the culture is greater than the grandchild’s.  From my experience, I know that my full-blooded grandmother knew nothing of the Hawaiian culture.  Not only that, but the (full-blooded) elders who are still alive in the family look to me for cultural and historical clarification.  Thus I’m confused if the Grandparent-grandchild bond should be (in my case) the Grandchild-grandparent bond, and if so, does that change anything?

                  

 The ‘double rebuilding’ concept of ancestor and personal identity was thought-provoking (on page 154).  However, I’m confused about the notion of rebuilding the whare tipuna on one’s home marae in order to reclaim personal Maoritanga.  I understand the metaphoric need of being physically near or on ancestral lands for the sake of forging indigenous identity.  But what does that say about the indigenous Maori people who are not living in Aotearoa?  Does that mean that they simply cannot participate in rebuilding their Maori identity? Or, if they can, does it mean they must rebuild differently? This got me thinking about the ‘mainland Hawaiian’ and whether it makes sense that their (different) physical location in space would (or should) restrict them from the same rebuilding process of a subjective Hawaiian identity.  Any comments?              

NAISA call for papers

The Native American and Indigenous Studies Association conference is coming up in June 2013. I encourage you to attend and possibly present at this conference.

NAISA is the primary professional, academic association for Indigenous studies, and the annual conference is always an inspiring and rich meeting of ideas and people. The deadline for abstracts is coming up soon: Nov 15.

Please read the call for papers at the following link:
NAISA 2013 Call for papers

Let me know if you are thinking about submitting an abstract.

South Park and Mormons

Mahalo, Heather! I canʻt wait to watch the South Park "Going Native" episode!

I was just thinking of South Park this week as we were reading Aikaus book, because the creators of South Park wrote a Broadway musical called, "The Book of Mormon." You can see a bunch of clips on YouTube. Hereʻs one called, "I Believe," that relates to Aikauʻs point about blind faith.

60 minutes did a piece on the musical:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjLb18sATWA&feature=related

South Park features an episode on Kauai'i

Although this isn't academic, South Park recently did an episode on Kauai'i in connection with some of the things we've been talking about: http://www.southparkstudios.com/full-episodes/s16e11-going-native.

A Chosen People, A Promised Land

Aikau gives a famous quote by Walk on page 187 with, "in order to know where you're going you have to know where you came from." This seems to be a common theme across our readings, this looking back and reclaiming both the ugly and pretty of history that has been played out, seeing it for all of its colonialist and/or political agenda. It's a question we've visited: How can the education/political/religious/community realms contribute to this?

In the Service of the Lord: Religion, Race, and the Polynesian Cultural Center

Polynesian Cultural Center (PCC) was founded by the LDS church in 1963. PCC is one of the most popular touris facilities in Hawaii. Each year twenty five million tourists visit, about seven hundred students who attend Brigham Young University-Hawaii were employed.

Haunai-Kay Trask criticized tourism relies on their gendered racial bodies to sell race to tourists. PCC can be seen as a racial project that relies upon sterotypes of the “ happy native.” Contrary to expectations, employees who worked at PCC have strong senses of faith. It is a paradoxical situation. An ideology of faithfulness is used to garner the consent of the community members to freely give their labor to this capitalistic project.

Through the former workers interviews, the author realized PCC was more than just a cultural tourist attraction that sells race. The PCC has been selling an image of the happy native to tourists for nearly fifty years. The PCC has a mechanism of control their workers. The mechanism is ideologies of faithfulness. This makes compliant workers.

Faith is also used as a mechanism of control that obscures the structures of inequality and the capitalistic motivations of the church. By analyzing tourism from the perspective of workers, an alternative narrative culture emerges. Aikau tried to expose the ideology which enables Hawaiians to cooperate in harmony.

Sorry guys, I read Wasase which is the wrong book for this week. No contribution to the post.  aloha ino

-Aaron

YouTube Video: "The Birthing of Iosepa" da canoe, part one

Called to Serve

I found this entire book to be interesting, as I come from a Mormon background. However, I found Chapter 3: “Called to Serve” to resonate most with me.

Growing up as a Mormon, I was always geared with the idea that I should serve a mission and spread the gospel. As a young girl, I would practice my scripture and study with my peers (who were all boys). We all talked about serving a mission and traveling to other countries learning languages and cultures. We were also taught songs that empowered us to serve a mission and were told of how much good it is to serve.

However, as I started to get older, I was told that I couldn’t go on a mission till I was 21 years old. Furthermore, as more time passed, I was told that my actual mission was to become a wife and mother; it wasn’t that important for me to serve a mission. Chapter 3 reminds me of this moment; of having gender roles in the church.  It's as though the men are called to serve the Lord, and women are called to serve the family and the head of the family (the husband). As I reflect more on this, I find that not only does this discriminate women from going on missions, but it also enforces the idea that men should go on missions at the age of 19; if they don’t, they must not be worthy (which is never something someone wants to be perceived as).

I just found out, while talking with my parents after reading the book that women can now go on their missions at the age of 19 however, men can now go on their mission at the age of 18. They did not have a straight forward answer as to why this change occurred, but nonetheless, I still find this to be gender bias. Men are still allowed to go on missions before women and women are still being encouraged to start a family rather than to go on a mission.

I’m back at home now and I’ll try to remember to bring the Book of Mormon and the translation if anyone wants to looks at it in class. 

Indigenous Studies and Religious Colonialism
In the Pacific, perhaps one of the most insidious of all types of colonialism is the religious type, particularly Christian colonialism. I take great risk in outright calling it colonialism because of the sensitive nature of the issue and perhaps because of the privileged status of Christianity not only among Pacific Islanders but among many indigenous peoples. Pacific societies are often times staunchly conservative in their approach to their acceptance of Christianity and the complexities in dealing with how they are addressed in terms of colonization/decolonization rhetoric.

Vicente Diaz’s Repositioning the Missionary teases out the complexities of this religious colonialism in Guam in the efforts to recognize a colonial figurehead, Father Diego San Vitores. Diaz asks a very important question: “Why, when the rest of colonized Oceania is trying to decolonize itself, are Guam’s indigenous leaders and laity celebrating the island’s most conspicuous colonial figure?” (4). Perhaps an adequate response to describe this phenomenon is that there are intricate layers of complexities among indigenous conceptions of identity and how this is often reorganized to consolidate various histories. [THIS SECTION will expanded upon later].

A similar observation could be made about the situation in Sāmoa. As we recall from Dan Taulapapa McMullin’s piece in Queer Indigenous Studies, religious colonialism is explicit in Sāmoa and in comes in recurrent waves. The first dealt with the initial onslaught of Christian missionaries who became the established denominations and soon made Christianity acculturated in the fa‘asāmoa (Samoan way of life). Various stories are used to justify the coming of Christianity and its firm establishment, or rather acculturation, in Samoan culture – at times demonizing those who rejected the new religion (as had been done to Matapang) and praising those who accepted the new faith for their unfettered piety. Various aspects of Samoan culture, as well as traditional characters and personalities endemic to Sāmoa were viciously demonized. [If you would like to see an example, please click on this story: Part 1]. A binary rhetoric is imposed on traditional native religious paradigms to fit the Christian message and assert its hegemony [an example is a cooptation of the neutral word ‘aitu’ (a spirit or a family god) to mean ‘ghost’ or ‘evil spirit’ or tevolo – ‘demon’, primarily pejorative connotations are given to entities that were largely viewed on a spectrum (good, neutral, or bad)].
In relation to Hawai‘i, the canonization process of the two Catholic missionaries Father Damien (Joseph De Veuster) and Mother Marianne Cope reveals various efforts by both Native and non-Natives to bring to the highest honors. But none of these candidates were of Native blood, and as much elsewhere in the Pacific, the rhetoric of native being “saved” and “civilized” by European missionary agents where a common phenomenon. Peter Chanel, Francis Xavier, and now Joseph De Veuster and soon to be Marianne Cope are all treasured “patrons” of the Pacific yet none of them are indigenous to the region. No native in the Pacific is deemed worthy of the highest recognition in the church, yet they are glorified through non-Native agents of missionary colonization.

If one were to ask the question, why would the people of Hawai‘i, including Native Hawaiians, be so enthusiastic in the canonization a figure associated with a missionary legacy of colonization of the Hawaiian Islands (including the alienation of native lands, usurpation of sovereignty, and the marginalization of the indigenous people) would this be a legitimate comparison to the case of San Vitores with the Chamorro?

Repositioning the Missionary by Vicente M. Diaz

Historic events seem very clear and simple. The historical fact of Diaz’s work in the killing of the Spanish missionary San Vitores at Tonhom on the island of Guam in 1672. Danger was an inherent part of pioneer evangelization in the Pacific. Diaz has raised questions from this point. Is that a typical Western missionary’s intrusion?
 

..historically mostly foreigners making racist and patronizing assumptions about “Native” cultural authenticity and purity. Such presuppositions, of course, left/leave no room for comprehending the complex histories of how Natives, in the interest of cultural and social rearticulation and survival, can also convert those who come to convert them (205).

 

By considering from various vantage points, we find a new perspective and meaning. As the subtitle says it, Diaz tries to rewrite the histories of Colonialism, Native Catholicism, and Indigeneity in Guam. 

 

We need such alternative stories and meanings, furthermore, because whoever we understand ourselves to be and wherever we end up calling home, we will continue to be at the mercy of those who speak in the name of God and who have at their disposal the smallest , or the largest, weapons of mass destruction to unleash on those who are not with them in their holy crusade. (207)

 

 

 

Book reviews and journals

As you begin thinking about writing your book review, here is a list of journals to consider. Please add to this list if there are other academic journals you are thinking about. This will be helpful to other students.

International Journal of Critical Indigenous Studies
Asia Pacific Viewpoint
The Contemporary Pacific: A Journal of Island Affairs
Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society
 Journal of Pacific History
AlterNative: An International Journal of Indigenous Peoples
Hawaiian Journal of History
Hūlili: Multidisciplinary Research on Hawaiian Well-Being
Journal of Indigenous Social Development
Wicazo Sa Review
American Indian Quarterly

As graduate students, one of the first things you should do is to begin looking at academic journals that are important in your field and/or that interest you. Look at who is on their editorial board, who the contributing authors are, what kinds of articles they publish. Then try to keep up with reading them on a regular basis. Most come out either quarterly, bi-annually, or annually. We can talk more about this in class, if you have questions about how to use and write for academic journals.

Repositioning the Missionary by Vicente Diaz

In chapter 2, Vicente Diaz analyzes the authenticity of hagriographic sources pertaining to San Vitores that attempt to tell the heroic narrative of his life. According to Diaz, these stories are romanticized in a sense to provide a providential epic tale as it is the criteria for the canonization process of saints. This criteria also gives us hints that this story does not necessarily have to be historically accurate. On page 56, Diaz explains, “It cannot be emphasized enough that the only extant primary source documents on the events in question were generated and circulated in a concerted effort to canonize San Vitores in the seventeenth century, and again in the last quarter of the twentieth century. Of equal importance, perhaps as a function of that history, these documents exist only in the form of modern copies located primarily in Church and Jesuit archives.” This point is important because Diaz states that these primary sources are lost to the margins in the Positio of San Vitores, or the primary sources are un-traceable. This is problematic especially when writers rely on “modern copies of primary sources.” Diaz gives an example of how some primary source documents somehow got destroyed in a fire, yet they had obtained a copy. The whole process of edifying the life of this priest is suspect also because the Native testimony seemed to be fabricated because all three eyewitnesses statements followed a formulaic pattern basically saying the same thing. Why is this story immune to criticism or contention? Diaz explicitly articulates how the story is embellished to “work the native, ” yet it is a never-ending cycle as historians still reproduce histories from secondary source material, or works that were provided after the event.  In the case of Hawaiʻi, historians use sources such as Kuykendall or Gavan Dawes to write histories, when we have histories written in Hawaiian by Hawaiians that experienced the histories themselves. Why why why is the Native still worked over!

The other topic that I find interesting was when he describes the problematic use of the “invention of culture.” He uses Linnekin and Keesing as an example of academics who have purposed that the Kānaka Maoli invented cultural norms to facilitate political aims such as sovereignty. In response to this contested idea between the indigenous vs. the non-indigenous, Diaz explains this phenomenon as the “historical articulation of indigeneity.....One way to illustrate a theory of Native articulation is to historicize the processes of conversions to Christianity in terms of Native agencies whose investments in Christianity tactically invert canonical narratives.”(pg.23) For  example, Diaz explains how Chamorro Catholicism is practiced through a uniquely indigenous framework.  What I have learned here is that when researchers/ academics make a claim about inventing culture they are making a claim about the authenticity of your culture because they see it as a threat. Diaz helps illuminate the possibility that this hybrid form of Chamorro Catholicism is really the native “pulling a fast one” on the haole. So in canonizing San Vitores there is Native agency as well too. I mean come on this religion has a lot of pagan qualities (such as giving divine qualities to human beings) so perhaps it fell in well with their own Native religion.

Colonial Mimicry

Throughout this book, I kept thinking about Homi Bhabha’s concept of colonial mimicry.  Mimicry is a technique of disrupting the colonizers ambitions of creating identity by imitating it. This in turn acts inversely to the goals of the colonizer by posing a threat “to both normalized knowledge and disciplinary powers.” I have always been surprised at the different ways that colonized peoples transform the religions imposed on them, sometimes to an almost unrecognizable point.  I think Diaz talks about the Chamorro characteristics to Catholicism, but what exactly does this Catholicism look like?  How similar/different is it from the ‘pure’ Spanish Catholicism?  The quote that Heather posted by an elder stating that the “Spaniard belongs to us and is ours” is telling and leads me to think that perhaps this adoption and subsequent ‘Nativizing’ of the Catholic religion is a form of mimicry Bhabha refers to?

Repositioning the Missionary

In chapter 5, Diaz talks about how San Vitores learned Chamorro "'with such facility and in such a short time' that his companions deemed it the work of the Holy Spirit (160)." I thought this was interesting and wondered if Hawaiian probably thought the same for the missionaries that came to Hawaiʻi. Linguistically however, I feel that the language was easier to learn 1) because these missionaries are on a mission to teach, and they cant get their message across if they can't communicate to people, and 2) after being immersed in a society that speaks completely in a different language, one better acquires that language.
I also thought about translation and the linguistic, as well as cultural, complications therein while continuing to page 161, where Diaz shares how certain terms were translated and interpreted in different ways. This made me think of how translation in and out of Hawaiian today causes problematic  situations of communication.

Aaron C

 In the prologue, Diaz defines indigeneity as such: “The cultural, historical, and political condition of being indigenous or native to a place, and the analytical possibilities that such an ontology or mode of being offers critical scholarship and political movements” (4).  Is this a fair description of what common language understands as indigeneity?  What does critical scholarship have to do with the ontological mode-of-being indigenous? Moreover, why does the word “political” correlate with indigeneity? Should it? Or what about on page eighteen when he says that, indigeneity “might be defined as the historical condition of being indigenous to a specific region or place and claiming aboriginal status in it.” Why is it necessary to “claim” indigeneity?  If we deny (or perhaps refute) Diaz’s definition of indigeneity, what does it do to the structure of his arguments?    

Repositioning the Missionary Questions

I really appreciated Vicente M. Diaz's subtle humor throughout the book! A very clever and insightful author.

Diaz writes on page 204 that, "An elder with whom I spoke was even dismayed to discover that San Vitores was not a Chamorro monsignor, that the Spaniard 'belongs to us' and 'is ours' specifically for the way that he spilled his blood on Guam." How much of San Vitores's legacy is dangerous to let it be beautified in myth and what are the implications of the "unholy alliance"? (206) Can we sketch out the reasons for why San Vitores has resurfaced in postwar years as opposed to earlier?

Clarity On Citing Sources

Aloha mai kākou!

Since I forgot to mention in our last class, just for clarification, and I should have stated this in my blog "CAUSE I'M A WARRIOR", but I want everyone to know that each article I choose to blog here, if I am citing her/his work I will only add quotation marks without including page numbers or footnote, UNLESS if it helps you that I specifically point them ALL out.  However, if I will use a quote from a different author from another source that's not from the author, then I will footnote it.  Is that alright with you?  I humbly appreciate your feedback.  Either way works for me.  I just don't want readers to think Iʻm not citing the source.  But I am. I just prefer to use it in quotation marks only.

Mahalo nui

L(o)osing the Edge

L(o)osing the Edge, Teresia K Teaiwa

Teaiwa’s article is a creative and interesting piece exploring and mapping out the evolution of Native Pacific Cultural Studies. Teaiwa frames the article in a two column format in which the first column is more analytical and theoretical, and the second column to the right is a more practical course that Native Pacific Cultural Studies has progressed in the past ten years through numerous Pacific conferences. She begins by exploring the tensions between Native, Pacific and Cultural studies and how, or if it is even possible to combine all these studies together?

Teaiwa also raises an important question about the acceptance of non-Native and the Non-Pacific islander writers. Similar to the question posed by Malsbary in her review of Tuhiwai Smith’s “Decolonizing Methodologies”, I would also question; what does Native Pacific Cultural Studies look like in an “era of layered and shifting Identities”. Teaiwa does a good job of incorporating her diverse academic experience into her work and her understanding about Native Pacific Cultural studies.

The author contrasts her academic work in Santa Cruz to her work in Fiji, where she claims to have loss the “edge” or academic integrity that the Santa Cruz environment had fostered. She comes to the realization that she gained a different edge, and that “Pacific studies must ultimately be about people… and relationships” (352). I wonder if there is more to Teaiwa’s assessment about Pacific studies at the University of the South Pacific, and the lack of knowledge production from there. Could it be that scholars are cautious and respectful towards cultural issues that they would not risk the culture being subjected to criticisms and perhaps lose a sense of mana. This reminds me of Ishi in the Visenor article, where he never reveals any of his sacred names or nicknames. Perhaps he might lose the spirituality or sacredness of his name, something that was personal and no white man could ever take from him. I guess my question is, should scholars and researchers have boundaries and limitations when exposing the secrets and essence of the Native Pacific Cultures, if there is any?

Agenda for today's class

Aloha kakou,

I'd like to start class today with a short introduction to this unit on Indigenous methods and methodologies. While this will be sort of "lecture-y," I want to open the space for us to talk story, tell stories and think about our own methods and methodological approaches.

Following that introduction, I'd like us to break into the following groups:

Heather, Hilina & Nioi (Alfred and Gaudry)
Megumi, Chris, Uili & Niko (Teaiwa and Native Pacific Cultural Studies)
Aaron, Ku'ulei & Kameha'ikū (Kikiloi and Kanahele)
Derek, Sammy & Woongbae (Warrior and the transnational)

In these groups, you will be coming up with different ways to frame a specific research project, based on the articles you read and on your own research interests. So, be prepared to either put on the table a topic you are researching or are interested in studying and talking about.

See you in a few hours...

Native American Scholarship and the Transnational Turn/ Robert Warrior

The term transnational has had a strong impact in various corners of literary and cultural studies over the past decade, but is only now emerging as a significant category of analysis among Native American writers and critics and in Native American Studies. This essay grew out of a specific attempt to make some sense of why so many Native scholars in literary studies have steered clear of discourse on the transnational. Robert Warrior is Director of American Indian Studies at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, where he is Professor of American Indian Studies, English, and History. 

Why transnationalism is important? Warrior introduces Ramon Saldivar state. Saldivar argues, the new questions that transnational analysis helps us formulate ‘are valuable because they have supplied so much moral resonance to contemporary dissident movements and have helped to destabilize the seemingly unshakable fixity of culture, politics, and the marketplace’. (120)

 

To prove the that Native scholars are not using the term transnational with any frequency Warrior is “checking the indices of many books from the field published after 1998 that were authored, or included a contribution, by a Native scholar, revealed that the terms transnational, transnationality or transnationalism were not deployed.” (120-121)

 

Warrior is interested in understanding the relative absence of a term like transnationality among Native scholars not as an alarming situation in which unsophisticated, uncritical revanchists refuse to participate in a broader world of theoretical insight (121-122)

 

The most recent notions of the transnational have progressed in some fashion from postcolonial studies. A major reason for the lack of engagement with transnationality by Native American scholars is the widespread rejection of postcolonial studies. Though it fails to take account of the formulations of the most nuanced of postcolonial scholars, this objection is grounded in the reality that Native Americans remain colonized peoples rather than people facing post-independence realities and challenges. Thus the post in post colonialism creates a stumbling block to engagement (122).

 

Native peoples continue to have political status as nations, at least in the US and Canada, we as scholars remain committed to framing and developing our work as members of our respective nations (126).

 

Transnationality … points not to the emergence of a new collective unit … but to the persistence of an old logic, the logic of capitalism. Market born and market driven, it is infinite in its geographical extension but all too finite in its aspirations. It offers no alternative politics, poses no threat to the sovereignty of the state (127)

Vizenor, Smith, Alfred, Kanahele, Kikiloi

The statement, "when a language dies, a possible world dies with it (20)," was presented in the reading from Vizenor, immediately caught my attention. I believe that language is key to understanding and reclaiming Native knowledge, land, culture and perspective. The continuity of language, to me, is a form of survivance seen in Native communities today. Furthermore, "as Vizenor has written, 'Native survivance is more than survival, more than endurance or mere response; the stories of survivance are an active presence.' This presence is one that can 'undermine the literature of dominance (107).'" The active presence I've seen in relation to language has helped to do such in our Hawaiian communities and am grateful for it.

The literature reviews for Smith and Alfred also supports this notion of survivance through Indigenous methodologies; and the need for Indigenous peoples to do research and retell their stories about their land as a way to break apart the colonial structures in Western institutions. As stated, "the purpose is to convey the validity of Indigenous knowledge and practices (284). The idea then is that, "...Indigenous communities must create a frame of mind and reference that is as scientifically rigorous as Western methods. However, unlike the self-serving and oppressive nature of those methods, the activity of research by Indigenous-minded researchers must be held accountable to the Native Communities under study (287)." Meaning, we need to make sure that we maintain the Native perspective and value of the things we research.

Pua Kamahele's piece actually gave me a better understanding of how to maintain cultural perspective while progressing in modern research. She explains that, "Hawaiian practitioners live comfortably in both worlds because they know who they are. They know why  they are and they know what they are. And they know what they must continue to be (9)." She also shares this dream about how we can be a part of our ʻāina and culture while also being engaged in our modern society.

These ideas blend perfectly into Kekuewa Kikilo's article. While reading her piece, Rebirth of an Archipelago: Sustaining a Hawaiian Cultural Identity for People and Homeland, I found that Kekuewa was able to research, with a certain level of understanding for the Hawaiian language and culture, about the Northwest Hawaiian Islands. Aside from Western perspective, Kekuewa clearly  indicates in the introduction that, "Hawaiian well-being is tied first and foremost to a strong sense of cultural identity that links people to their homeland. At the core of this profound connection is the deep and educing sentiment of aloha ʻāina, or love for the land...These place names are important cultural signatures etched into Hawaiian landscape and are embedded with traditional histories and stories that document how our ancestors felt about a particular area, its features, or phenomena. They help to transform once-empty geographic spaces into cultural places enriched with meaning and significance (75)."  Through work such as this, the Hawaiian community has been able to reclaim and validate our past as people of Hawaiʻi; people who are connected to this area.

This last piece was more so interesting to me because some of my co-workers just recently returned form a trip to Papahānaumokuākea. They went understanding the sacredness of these islands as well as the fact that very few people are able to journey and see the majestic islands first-hand. Therefore, they went and took still and video images of their journey as a means to educate others (through visual and audio media) about these areas.  I thought that this trip was a great add on to this last reading, as well as an example of continued Native Hawaiian survivance, as well as perpetuating our past in our present time.

No laila, I tried adding a couple of short films they did and produced. NOAA actually went out as well, so some of the stories they did were dealing with what types of research NOAA was doing. One storyactually has Kekuewa Kikiloi being interviewed. Sorry, I don't know how to upload vimeo movies..

http://vimeo.com/oiwitv/review/49190866/f63bff9ffd

http://vimeo.com/oiwitv/review/50417943/9f9774b9cb

http://www.oiwi.tv/live/channels/news/huakai-papahanaumokuakea-2012-reaching-new-depths-nwhi2012/

http://www.oiwi.tv/live/channels/culture/huakaʻi-papahanaumokuakea-tern-island-french-frigate-shoals-nwhi2012/

Methods and the role of research

       This week’s texts focused on deconstructing colonial research methods and explored a variety of indigenous research methods. Using methods such as a focus on language, dance, survivance, poetry, art, personal anecdotes, histories and genealogies, among other techniques, the authors provide critical analysis of colonial research methods while creating and developing native discourses. Much of the efforts of native research attempt to recover traditional approaches, but each of the writers emphasize the importance of evolving and creative approaches. The importance of research methodologies cannot be understated due to the shaping effects on a population of academic discourses.

       Teresia Teaiwa’s L(o)osing the Edge incorporates many of the research methodologies used by indigenous academics. She disrupts typical colonial conceptions of published material by contrasting her critique of research and description of native methodologies with a personal journey through academic conferences. The method disjoints readers and re-enforces arguments and critiques made on the left side of the page with a personal timeline of Pacific studies conferences. Teaiwa’s critique quickly shifts between her personal experience and wider experiences of indigenous people, between Kiribati, Hawaii, America, NZ and the entire Pacific, between the ocean and the land, between cultural studies and experiences, and a variety of other positions. For example, her name, Teretia, in Kiribati suggests the inversion of ‘one who is, stands at, masters the edge.’ Teaiwa also deconstructs the colonial background of her name. Using these two sides of her background Teaiwa describes the edge, and the vitality of the edge for a native and an academic. The effect of these two sides of her personal background exists in “the native is hybrid. Hybridity is essential. For the edge.” The edge for Teaiwa is a position of tension. It frames her experiences as the child of an African American and I-Kiribati. She then uses her experience at the University of California at Santa Cruz, UH, and the University of the South Pacific to provide the reader with a personal view of the edge within Pacific studies. Teaiwa adroitly steers between the personal and large scale throughout her text. While she asks many seemingly controversial questions in pushing the edge of Pacific studies, she illustrates the tensions at issue in asking these questions. Even to the degree of questioning her own methodologies.

     As stated above Teaiwa proposes many controversial questions in pushing the edge of Pacific studies. Is enough work being done to answer the uncomfortable, tension filled questions that she suggests exist within Pacific studies? She states that as long as “Pacific studies continues to achieve its critical edges from the edges of the Pacific, its contributions to knowledge production will remain largely impotent, irrelevant, and unwelcome in the face-to-face realities of the island.” Has more effort been expended to push in this direction? Are critiques expanding to question methodologies as Teaiwa does her own?

Rebirth of an Archipelago: Sustaining a Hawaiian Cultural Identity for People and Homeland by Kekuewa Kikiloi

Main concepts:

Kikiloi wants us, as Hawaiians, to remember the ancestral legacies of the (forgotten) orally-transmitted place names of the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands.  By remembering stories and traditions about our islands, he argues, we can develop a “unified cultural identity” which is grounded in the concept of aloha ‘āina, or the reciprocal love for the land.  “Hawaiian well-being,” then, is primarily fostered in a profound sense of “cultural identity that links people to their homeland” (75).  This deep insight of belonging, according to Kikiloi, is best reflected in traditional Hawaiian place names, as they reinforce aloha ‘āina, familial and genealogical ties to the land, cultural histories, memories, and identity.  Thus, through the act of remembering, Kikiloi’s main thesis is to “reawaken or ‘rebirth’ a sense of consciousness in our communities about what constitutes a Hawaiian cultural identity and fundamentally expand our notion of homeland” (77).

Research methodologies:

(1) Examining oral tradition (as a diverse pool of collective memories).  “The passing of this information is done with amazing accuracy utilizing recital, repetition, and mnemonic devices. It required specialists who were essentially living libraries of knowledge who cataloged, stored,

and kept sacred information available for retrieval upon request” (78).

(2) Verifying the above information through the “first-hand experience of observing the environment” (ibid).            

My critique of the methodologies:    

(1) Noted psychologist, Dr. Elizabeth Loftus, has argued persuasively that indeed memory contains the characteristic of plasticity; that is, memory is malleable.  Far from being a static piece of readily accessible, stored-away information, the contents of memory actually change along with experience and time.  Modern psychology refutes Kikiloi’s description of the way in which memory is recalled, therefore calling into question the accuracy of his ‘specialist’ of oral tradition.  Does recital, repetition, and mnemonic devices equate to accuracy?  I’m not sure if it does. 

(2)  Kikiloi uses his extensive first-hand observations of the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands as evidence to support the claims made to place names in traditional Hawaiian chants.  At first, this seemed to be ok.  But then the obvious struck me, physical geography changes along with time (i.e., erosion of a distinctive mountain peak or the ocean swallowing up land formations).  No doubt these place names are very old – they easily predate the European contact in 1778.  So how much can change in a few hundred years? Well, the traditional Hawaiian place name for Yokohama beach is Keawa‘ula, or the red bay, for the once abundant yearly migration of the red mullet fish.  Today, there is absolutely no indication that the bay was once bright red with fish.  This shows me that first-hand experience in the twenty-first century is not an accurate methodology for verifying physical attributes in the distant past. 

Other readings:         

It seems to me that the concept of remembering is a reoccurring theme in our readings.  I think I was criticized in an earlier class discussion for using the word “nostalgia.”  However, it seems fitting in this context, since Kikiloi uses aloha ‘āina as a “vital link to the glorious past.”  Remembering in order to move forward, to reconcile, and for solidarity are other reoccurring concepts.  Although I believe remembering is indeed important for shaping any identity, I think Kikiloi is trapped in traditionalism and offers a philosophy that does not promote Hawaiian creativity, novelty, and spontaneity.  I don’t know about you guys, but I’m pretty tired of being told to constantly look to the past.                              

CAUSE I'M A WARRIOR

Taiaiake Alfred.  WARRIOR SCHOLARSHIP: Seeing the University as a Ground of Contention.

As an indigenous student attending a university that is constructed under the guise of a westernized institutional education, oftentimes I feel the only route toward advancement to earn a degree and obtain employment is to embrace the English language.  This saddens me, because not only do professors from the university enforce this ideology, people of my own race, Native Hawaiians, also enforce it.  However, after reading this article and after having a conversation with a supportive professor who understands the path for which I’ve embarked on, I have found a sense of belonging again.  My ʻumeke that was once filled with pōhaku now shines again with hope for tomorrow.   

The article, WARRIOR SCHOLARSHIP: Seeing the University as a Ground of Contention is fearsome.  Taiaiake Alfred’s objective seeks ways in which to “indigenize an academy,” though reclaiming our indigeneity within westernized universities and to be held accountable as Natives of these (Is)lands toward achieving solidarity between indigenous knowledge and westernized education. 

Alfred offers three arguments as to why universities are not a “safe ground” for indigenous students and indigenous professors:

i.      “Universities are founded and functions differently than Indigenous cultures.”

ii.     There is a clash between “traditional ethics” and the role of academic “professional responsibilities.”

iii.   Universities do not allow “integration of traditional views and values from indigenous peoples in our community (88).

More than that, Alfred suggests ways in how we may achieve “indigenizing a university”:

i.      “Be cognizant and respectful of cultures;

ii.     Hold accountability for what we can, where we can, and how we can assure a safe environment for the perpetuation and survival of our identity within these institutions;

iii.   Work to defeat the operation of colonialism and reorder academe” (89).

So how is this accomplishable?  How may an indigenous person in academia change the ways in which promote healthy and safe environments for future generations? In what ways can we (you, the reader and myself) “Indigenize universities?

Before looking at solutions, Alfred suggests we begin by taking a look at the “root” of the problem, which is to re-understand “colonialism” critically.  On the one hand, colonialism is defined as “material terms, political injustices, domination, dispossession of lands, economic oppressions”, including psychological [and/] or spiritual effects of material loss manifested in dysfunctional or self-destructive behaviors” (89).  On the other, it’s our “way of thinking about something fundamental to who we are as a society” (90).  “Fear” Alfred states, is embedded in our minds because of our past with settlers, a “relationship founded on hatred and violence and a culture founded on lies to assuage the guilt or shame ot it all” (ibid); that we have succumbed to complicity, which explains why we see life, at times, as so fucked up!  We’ve accepted colonial dysphoria; that we have detached ourselves from the ʻāina, from one another, and from our pursose here in the living; that “colonialism is a lie that divides” (89-90). 

Despite the facts of the past, our time as indigenous peoples shall not linger in the nostalgia and unforgiving.  It’s time to create “development[s] of collective and shared understandings of who we are and where we are headed as a society” (91) as Alfred reminds us.  Furthermore, as spaces within universities, we are able to address contemporary issues and relate them to the survivance of our identities as indigenous peoples.  Yet, Alfred states, “the real struggles are prevalent in universities and that colonialism’s newest turn strikes even deeper…they are after our values and our vision of the future, and universities are at the front line” (92). 

Alfred outlines “two competing visions…of fundamental citizenship and identity that are largely ignored in scholarship and teaching by Indigenous people today[:]”

i.       “Imperial” wherein through “legal homogeneity” (“seen as the prime legal construct that governed the relationship between higher education and society”[1]), as well as states’ accession of enforcing “one ethical standard for values, behavior, and vision;

ii.     “Coexistence, a social balance independence and interdependence of peoples, and a political relationship0 founded on an ethic of pluralism in a framework of respect” (ibid). 

However, amongst the opposition, Alfred offers two insightful ethic frames that are commonplace amongst indigenous peoples:

i.       “Respect, honor and value differences (independence)

ii.     Organize one’s mind and attitudes around idea of the sharing of space (interdependence)” (93). 

This is what Alfred is arguing that indigenous scholars today are not putting forth, instead working alongside universities that promote globalization and modernity.  Alfred also asks if we are turning into species of extinction, and if so, what can we do about it?  How are ways in which to “regenerate our communities and cultures” (93) for the future?  He asserts that self-government, land claims, economic development, and legal recognition of our sovereign rights as a nation” (93-94) will do all indigenous peoples justice.  Alfred furthers to state that our nations are spiritually disconnected; that because we are disconnected spiritually to our lands it has caused a great darkness amongst our peoples, and I have to agree with him on this.  And in order for change to begin, we need to look at “fundamental building blocks” within our own communities. 

Three facets Alfred offer as a form of  “new resistance” through a “Warrior Scholarship ethic:”

i.       Honor indigenous traditional and cultural knowledge

ii.     Defy the unjust notions of juridical unity

iii.    Subvert pretensions of coopted Indigenous scholars and imperial or civil servants” (95-96). 

Alfred’s reminder that beginning with self change, while looking back at our families and communities for continued support, and resist pressures of colonial imperialism, I have to say, this article has helped remind me what my kulena is, for I am Warrior for my community, TRUST! 

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[1] Robert Cowen and Andreas M. Kazamias, International Handbook of Comparative Education, v. 1 (London and New York, Springer Scince+Business Media, 2009): 557. 

Warrior Scholarship by Taiaiake Alfred

Taiaiake Alfred presents the idea of warrior scholarship as a means to “indigenize the academy” (88) and how this methodology is in stark contrast to the resistant atmosphere of universities to any sort of likeness to indigenization. However, Alfred believes this is possible and recommends that this new embodiment of indigenous values should be embraced from the bottom up from administration, to faculty and students.

One of the obstructions in our efforts (indigenous) to de-colonize our scholarship is that the university stands as a “microcosm of the larger societal struggle.” (88) Like other social, political, and economic institutions, the university serves as a symbol of contentious ground where we must assert our indigenous means of existence in the face of assimilating to the monolithic values of the society as a whole.

Alfred measures what we are up against by first recognizing what he believes to be the definition of colonization outside of the traditional mode of thought where it is perceived to be a structure that has tangible social, economic, psychological, and political effects. He states that this definition is not sufficient but it is more accurately, “the fundamental denial of our freedom to be Indigenous in a meaningful way, and the unjust occupation of the physical, social, and political spaces we need in order to survive as Indigenous peoples.” (89) Colonialism works to fracture our existence into controlled colonial spaces where the colonist becomes the victor. As a result, the effects of individualism and materialism separate us from other human beings thereby making us colonial machines with no feelings.

Another problem that hinders our survival is that the colonialism rules through fear in order to silence our past and present times structuring our thinking in ways that deny or suppress our immoral past. This naturalization of fear in our lives forces us to submit to the colonial will of oppression that materializes through this ongoing process of psychological warfare. This fear of acknowledging our historical past then allows for our complicity in the colonial system even though we know that they are the wrongdoers.

When Alfred uses the university as an allegorical battleground, he reiterates how indigenous scholars are choosing the wrong battles and the wrong kuleana because we are submitting to the university logic of assimilation. Scholars and faculty are loosing sight of their priorities toward their people and their community as they move up the pay scale within the university system.  He stresses that our outlook of the future is synonymous with the State’s vision of values concerning patriotism and citizenship. Essentially, we are all seeking individualist frameworks, yet we must work toward sustaining a respectful co-existence. Further, we need to define our own indigenous models of freedom.

What do we do now? Alfred contends that subject to popular opinion, sovereignty, land claims, economic development, and self-determination are not the immediate answer because it reproduces the same bureaucratic ideas and hegemonic values of colonialism. Furthermore, a small population of people benefit in the long-run. When we begin to put these larger goals in action, we are no longer cognizant of our people, our family, and our land. The basic units of our very survival. This state of paralysis then becomes a spiritual crisis.

            

In order to intervene against the university’s imperialistic measures Alfred suggests that we resist by taking action. We must hold ourselves accountable to Indigenous modes of being and our respective communities as opposed to forms of imperial accountability that forces us to assimilate to the dominant views of the state. For this to occur we must operate on a small-scale level as individuals and move to organize our community individuals. This is in a sense a day to day exercise where we should be analyzing our decision-making process within the context of an “indigenous logic.” (98) This is the entry-point where we can begin to re-structure our lives to resist assimilation to imperialist ideologies.

Reading this article made me think that this idea of a warrior spirit was a natural part of our kūpuna’s lives, and a natural process of our moʻolelo as well. When Hiʻiaka went on a journey to summon Lohiʻau she endured physical and verbal battles along the whole journey. Perhaps this is another means through which we should be investing in this warrior mentality. I also think he could have gotten more into using our Native languages as resistance. He touches on it at the end, but I think this idea could really have helped frame his argument. He talks about the university as an imperialist construction that wants us to deny our past. I think language helps us to embrace our past, and give’s us context into our kūpuna’s lives. Further, learning our native language takes us on a spiritual journey that codes our cultural decisions thereby providing more means to resist assimilation.