What might Gandhi say about the present day plight of Kashmiris?
Looking at Gandhi’s Hind Swaraj to Discuss Kashmiri Sovereignty and the Persistence of Colonial Violences in India.
This essay was originally written as an academic paper for Tufts University’s anthropology program.
Animating Questions
How do colonial/imperial logics and their lasting footprints limit the prospects of self-determination and sovereignty for the subaltern? This paper will reference theories of sovereignty which exist outside of nationalist and statehood-oriented modalities to propose decolonial futures for Kashmiris. It will ultimately argue that, insofar as occupation and colonization manifest themselves within delimited kinships and placemakings, there too exists sovereign futures in those domains.
Introduction: Past Visions of Indian Decolonization/Lingering Coloniality
While en route from London to South Africa in 1909, Mohandas Gandhi wrote his Hind Swaraj (Indian Home Rule) as a dialogue between him and both the Indian public (referred in his text as “The Reader”) and the British government, as he elucidates his (“The Editor’s”) proposals for a decolonial future in India. This rich text offers us a set of decolonial logics required for an imagined sovereignty post-occupation.
Gandhi seeks a form of sovereignty called Swaraj, or “self rule,” but is less fixated on the reified, structural intricacies of such a future. Instead, he offers the reader goals for what a decolonial future should look like and the qualities it must host. Gandhi espouses a vision of sovereignty that rejects not only a physical presence of British rule in India but also a lasting spiritual, epistemological, and imagined presence, too. In so doing, Gandhi rejects the master’s tools, not just the master himself, to dismantle his house: the residual British and Western logics are just as violent and insidious as the British actors who then wielded violence upon Indian bodies. This is not the Swaraj he desires. He draws this out further in his polemic against Euro Western conceptions of civilization:
This is civilization. Formerly, men worked in the open air only so much as they liked. Now, thousands of workmen meet together and for the sake of maintenance work in factories or mines. Their condition is worse than that of beasts. They are obliged to work, at the risk of their lives, at most dangerous occupations, for the sake of millionaires. Formerly, men were made slaves under physical compulsion, now they are enslaved by temptation of money and of the luxuries that money can buy… What more need I say? …But, after twenty years’ experience, I have come to the conclusion that immorality is often taught in the name of morality…Civilization seeks to increase bodily comforts, and it fails miserably even in doing so. This civilization is irreligion…According to the teaching of Mahomed this would be considered a Satanic civilization. Hinduism calls it the Black Age. I cannot give you an adequate conception of it. It is eating into the vitals of the English nation. It must be shunned… They are enterprising and industrious and their mode of thought is not inherently immoral. Neither are they bad at heart. I, therefore, respect them. Civilization is not an incurable disease, but it should never be forgotten that the English people are at present afflicted by it.
It can be discerned, then, that Gandhi’s vision of Swaraj did not include the cultures of industrialization and capitalism. Modernity was, per Gandhi, completely anathema to the prosperity and wellbeing of the Indian people because it was anathema to the spiritual consciousness of Indians. A consequent vision of a sovereign future avoided the ostensible comforts or material realities featured in the capitalist West. The tools of the state were thus irrelevant to Gandhi as it concerned a Swaraj-centric sovereignty, as he explains in an address to the British:
To [the British] I would respectfully say: “I admit you are my rulers. It is not necessary to debate the question whether you hold India by the sword or by my consent. I have no objection to your remaining in my country, but although you are the rulers, you will have to remain as servants of the people…You may keep the riches that you have drained away from this land, but you may not drain riches henceforth. Your function will be, if you so wish, to police India; you must abandon the idea of deriving any commercial benefit from us. We hold the civilization that you support to be the reverse of civilization…You must not do anything that is contrary to our religions. It is your duty as rulers that, for the sake of the Hindus, you should eschew beef, and for the sake of the Mahomedans, you should avoid bacon and ham…We consider your schools and law courts to be useless. We want our own ancient schools and courts to be restored. The common language of India is not English but Hindi. You should, therefore, learn it. We can hold communication with you only in our national language.”
Here we are told the following: Swaraj is disinterested in the culture of capital, of empire, of Western logics and their attendant institutions. It seeks, instead, for cultural and spiritual integrity and control within the Indian tradition; it asks for respect of language, of heritage, and of religion. Swaraj cares not about British surveillance or rule, for these institutions are logically incompatible with the desires or logics of the Indian people and therefore are irrelevant to them — Swaraj rewrites the rules of engagement in a way that biases back to India. When Gandhi expresses that the British must “remain as servants of the people,” he refers to a deference toward shared consciousnesses rooted in heritage and spirituality — impediments to self-determination in these domains are rendered categorically violent and unwelcome. The future of India, as Gandhi’s Swaraj would have it, reverts back to the ancient and the traditional. What British rule robbed India of, more than any of her material riches, is the richness of her traditional culture.
The form he chooses for his writing, a dialogue, is critical as it accomplishes two things: first, it functions as a direct conversation between Gandhi and the Indian public, who he believes have internalized the colonial machinations imbued by British rule. Second, the form of this writing espouses Gandhi’s openness to a binational future. This writing also leaves in its shadow a blueprint for a de-occupied and decolonized state, for all of those within its rule.
Colonial Pasts/Presents: Impediments to Decolonial Futures
Despite representing modern-day decolonial success in the public consciousness, the promise of sovereignty through Swaraj reveals just how much India has strayed from Gandhi’s vision for India (e.g. through adopting the nation-state model, maintaining British legal relations, and leaning into modernity). Crucially, Swaraj, as a theory of both reified and imagined sovereignty, offers us a particularly critical and salient lens with which to discuss India’s occupation of Kashmir, whose situation appears to be at times mimetic of India’s during British imperial rule. Indeed, as Dipesh Chakrabarty writes in Provincializing Europe, the Indian constitution “tellingly begins by repeating certain universal Enlightenment themes,” and, as occupied subjects attempt to disentangle themselves from colonialism, they are consequently met with “no easy way of dispensing with these universals in the condition of political modernity.”
Looking to Kashmir, Mona Bhan, Haley Duschinski, and Ather Zia’s “Rebels of the Street” outlines the peril Kashmiris are presently faced with. They cite Achille Mbembe’s Necropolitics, particularly referencing his definitions of “occupation” as they relate to Kashmir; an accumulation of “seizing, delimiting, and asserting control over a physical geographical region, leading to a division of space into compartments, with a proliferation of internal boundaries and frontiers separating populations into discrete and fragmented units.” These tactics of necropower and occupation have rendered Kashmir as a “site of confinement, an everyday prison for the people of the valley” in which access to communication, information, and mobility are entirely siphoned off.
Mahmood Mamdani’s Neither Settler nor Native outlines the implications of statehood imposition (via borders, militaries, and citizenship apparatuses) which feels particularly apt in discussing Indian occupation of Kashmir. A notable quote from Mamdani, in which he echoes Gandhi critiques of the modern capitalist state:
The history of political modernity tells those of us who identify with the nation that we have been co opted. The nation is not inherent in us. It overwhelmed us. Political modernity led us to believe that we could not live without the nation-state…The nation made the immigrant a settler and the settler a perpetrator…In this new history, everyone is colonized — settler and native, perpetrator and victim, majority and minority.
Mamdani, echoing Gandhi’s hesitance to adopt Britain’s modus operandi in absentia, presents the nation-state as a widely-spanning epistemic project of conquest, wielding necropower against colonized subjects in the process. The nation-state’s most important target is not just colonizing land, but the psyche and the imaginary too. The consequences of Western-colonial adaptations elsewhere are argued by Kēhaulani Kauanui in Paradoxes of Hawaiian Sovereignty. Her research cites Michel Focault’s framework of “biopolitics,” particularly apropos of Hawaiian kingdom elites’ adaptation of Western and imperial “colonial biopolitical governmentality” to gesture at restrictive/oppressive logics as they are adopted by elite-controlled regimes.
Kauanui writes in her “Savage Sexualities” chapter of how imperial logics were used to control intimacies among the common classes (such as polygyny and polyandry), but continued to provide access to these practices for the kingdom elite. These colonial biopolitics were especially weaponized against women, trans and queer Hawaiians; this included constitutional adoption of a system in which women were subordinated to men and in which “new colonial biopolitical practices” were “foisted on Hawaiian society,” which “were in turn claimed by Kanaka elites as a form of social normalization that abandoned Indigenous epistemes and instead “conformed to a Western model.”
The adoption of Western, capitalist, and imperialist logics by Indigenous groups is particularly salient for this paper as it underscores an anti-Swaraj present in India: that is, India (through its military occupation and rule of Kashmir) has turned to embodying the very necropolitics that Britain wielded over her. This is furthered by Chakrabarty’s arguments of the adaptation of Euro-Western modernity logics in India, as he shares that “nationalist elites often rehearsed to their own subaltern classes…the stagist theory of history on which European ideas of political modernity were based.”
State modernity-logics also force colonial realities to recede within the imaginary. Discussing American colonialism, Mamdani shares the diminished presence of anti-indigenous atrocities within the contemporary American consciousness: “some will feel a pang of sorry over what happened, but that was a long time ago, and the sins of the fathers have been rectified by their sons.” The disappearance of these atrocities is exemplified by Mamdani’s inclusion of President Obama’s inaugural address, in which the first Black president shares “America was not born as a colonial power.” An imagined distance of American ethnic cleansing poses the United States and its collective consciousness as one wholly separate from that which pillaged the Native Americans; it also works to erase the fact that such violence is ongoing. Commemorations of India’s independence from British occupation (and of decolonial revolutionaries like Gandhi and Nehru), too, serve to obfuscate India’s own present day involvement in ongoing colonial violence in Kashmir.
Current practices of colonial obfuscation in India, too, greatly resemble those of colonial Britain, particularly vis-a-vis the wielding of modernity in securing its foothold in the territory. Bhan, Duschinski, and Zia elucidate the stakes of such weaponization here:
The lived contradictions of an occupying power are hard to miss. In Kashmir, they include infrastructural projects such as rails, roads, and highways built ostensibly to improve people’s mobilities; militarism that comes masked as democracy or development; and humanitarian policies of the state and the military that emphasize compassion and goodwill but seamlessly morph into heartless tactics to kill and exterminate Kashmiris… The military has actively appropriated humanitarianism to strengthen its counterinsurgency war in the region and make inroads into the everyday lives of communities especially in Kashmir’s border areas, where in the absence of other opportunities residents overwhelmingly rely on the military for jobs and employment.
The intersections and overlaps between British colonial occupation and Indian occupying rule in Kashmir are especially evident, then, in examining present day necropolitics of occupation — charting everyday Kashmiri spatio-temporalities, communications, and mobilities into fragments and compartments — and logics of modernity and humanitarianism, which become emblematic of a benevolent or prudent Indian “hand” in Kashmir. This is foregrounded by India’s pronounced efforts to “ensure the region’s exclusive place in India” via Article 370; its rendering of Kashmir as a “quasi-autonomous” region whose status teeters between “independence and integration;” and the politicization of landscapes, historiographies, and narratives. All of these domains are critical to later parts of this paper.
Necropolitics & Subjectivity: Occupations of the Kashmiri Body and Psyche
Ethnographic research by Gowhar Fazili details the contestations and negotiations endured by Kashmiris employed by India (one of India’s inroads into Kashmiri everyday life, as noted by Bhan, Duschinski, and Zia) and therefore underscores their subjectivity under occupation. In “Police Subjectivity in Occupied Kashmir: Reflections on an Account of a Police Officer,” Fazili highlights contestations and negotiations within the colonized/occupied body and mind through interviews with a Kashmiri police officer — that is, a Kashmiri who works for the Indian state’s police force — over the course of four sessions, each three hours long. Two moments especially worthy of our close attention are as follows: (1) assertions of police subjectivity as circumscribed by an occupier state and an occupied subject acting in its interests, and (2) assertions of tacit solidarity, shared identity, and shared humiliation amongst the subaltern.
Riyaz, in the following response, evokes a negotiation of loyalties central to the colonized subject, one which “demands that they eschew such subjectivity and represent and articulate the authority and interests of the state:”
The police has to walk a tight rope. In a way we are from the society, and at the same time we are the face of the government. We have to enforce the law. We have to enforce order. If something goes wrong somewhere, we have to deal with the public directly. Army does not have to deal with the people. They are for a different purpose. Parliamentary forces take a backseat. They are subservient to us. Our position is very precarious.
Riyaz makes clear the bifurcated nature of his subjectivity in Kashmir. He is at once “from the society,” a Kashmiri subject to conditions of occupation and its attendant violences, and simultaneously he is a “face of the government.” What does it mean, though, for Riyaz to represent the government? Riyaz here gestures at an inherent kinship with his fellow Kashmiris whom he must police: a kinship absent among both the Army and the Parliament, both of which Riyaz suggests are removed from “the people.” This removedness is due to the nature of nonlocal military presences in Kashmir since the 1980s, and the location of the Parliament within the occupier state (the Parliament, of course, also reinforces logics of occupation by nesting Kashmir within Indian political systems and discourses). The stakes, then, of being simultaneously a Kashmiri and a police of Kashmiris are located in the state-prescribed duties of engaging “with the public directly” while being part of the “public” political class.
Another rich site is Riyaz’ choice of language: he describes his position as a Kashmiri police officer as “precarious,” likening it to walking a tightrope. The imagery of Riyaz standing on a tightrope, fending off sways in either direction (towards the Kashmiri public or the Indian state), and ultimately at gravity’s fatal whim elucidates the stakes of negotiating identity as an actor of the state and a subject of its occupation. As Fazili notes, “Occupied subjects are constrained by circumstances to exist somewhere on the spectrum defined by resistance and collaboration and marked by a bit of both.”
We tend to be humiliated in every sphere. When I was a civilian and even now as a policeman — it is not a question of us versus them, it is the question of Kashmiri suffering. Kashmiris are being humiliated, whether as civilians or as policemen. For that matter, our society as a whole is humiliated.
Riyaz, in the preceding quote, asserts that his subjugation within Kashmiri occupation is agnostic to his status as a civilian or policeman. This is particularly salient as it situates Riyaz within the Kashmiri public at all times. Further, the “humiliation” endured by Kashmiris is present in all “spheres,” and is entirely ignorant to his representation for the Indian occupier state. Here, a collective Kashmiri identity is forged; the occupier cares not if Riyaz is a policeman, for he will be caught stranded in perpetuity on the tightrope he must walk, enduring a collective humiliation.
Riyaz’s persistent references to “humiliation” present another manifestation of Kashmiri subjectivity. Veronika Magyar-Haas writes about humiliation and shame as an anthropological, historical, and social emotion. Drawing on Hilge Landweer’s phenomenological work, Magyar-Haas outlines three key dimensions of shame and power: [1] the subjectivity of those who feel shame, particularly the subject’s relationship to itself as it experiences shame; [2] the significance of “normativity,” in that one’s shame is “based on the violation of norms and values that the subject itself views as important and worth respecting;” and, finally, [3] the potential of the “other’s” gaze/witnessing of instances of breaching such norms and experiencing shame.
As for surveillance and image, another useful definition of shame is a “breakdown of the individual’s relationship to their ideal image.” This is exacerbated by the gaze of the other, as philosopher R.O. Elveton writes of Sartre’s theory on ‘the look’: “Imprisoned within the look of the Other, my projects of existence are arrested, my freedom is lost and the original orientation of my being as an in-itself becomes dis-oriented and dis-placed.” Of note, the capacity to impart or experience shame is drawn alongside existing power dynamics and therefore humiliation functions to reproduce power; “the prospects of abasement are just as unevenly distributed across society as the power to abase someone.” Riyaz’s mention of humiliation, then, is salient as it relates to humiliation as a mode of discipline and surveillance: “The shame ritual, a term which is taken to mean public humiliation here, appears to be ‘a powerful tool with which to discipline other people.”
The components of Riyaz’s humiliation are as follows: First, his subjectivity is circumscribed by occupation, and it demands that he acts in interests which oppress him. Second, the terms of normativity in Indian-occupied Kashmir are laid out by India — these norms, and the structures by which they are upheld, are dictated by the occupying powers. Third, and most notably, the scope of an external gaze for both Riyaz and other Kashmiris is vast. Part of India’s necropolitics in Kashmir is a Foucauldian system in which panoptic surveillance is weaponized against Kashmiris “to discipline bodies and crush any form of claim to freedom.” Riyaz’s detailing of humiliation gestures at these omniscient and omnipresent forms of power, to which Riyaz and other Kashmiris are subject. By asserting that “Kashmiris are humiliated in every sphere,” he makes known that the panoptic gaze is unrelenting and constant, perpetually reinforcing subjectivity of Kashmiris within Indian dominion (both politically and normatively).
Memories, Placemaking, Extra-nationalist Sovereignties
Indian dominion over landscapes, cultural productions, and the everyday psychosomatic experiences of Kashmiris lend themselves well towards discussing forms of occupation and modes of decolonization. As Fazili’s research argues, the subjectivity of Kashmiris is enforced both by reified structures (law, government, policy, borders) and also embodied or atmospheric quantities (humiliation, kinship, omniscient surveillance). Similarly, Kashmiri landscapes, and projections of cultural and historical epistemes, also become an arena of contested subjectivity. Bhan, Duschinski, and Zia argue that landscapes in Kashmir “are appropriated to further integrationist agendas” in addition to the rewriting of “histories and identities of several border communities” as means “to secure India’s historic claims over Kashmir.” Indian pilgrimages to Kashmir, for example, have been weaponized for such aims:
The influx of many Indians to Kashmir as part of pilgrimage (yatra) tourism, a sector that is encouraged by both the state government and the central governments, is, according to many Kashmiris, a deliberate attempt to Hinduize Kashmir. Pilgrimage tourism has been promoted as a way to showcase previously unexplored aspects of Kashmir’s history and culture to domestic Indian tourists. Such events have intensified efforts to mark Kashmiri territory as foundationally Hindu.
The rendering of landscapes, cultures, and histories as arenas for domination also opens up avenues for contestation or resistance. Looking towards modes of resisting epistemological and spatiotemporal regimes in Kashmir, Mohmad Junaid’s “Epitaphs as Counterhistories: Martyrdom, Commemoration, and the Work of Graveyards in Kashmir’’ sketches out some of the ways kinship, placemaking, and collective memory can counter the necropolitics of occupation.
To best articulate the connection with placemaking and kinship-based sovereignties, Mbembe’s Necropolitics, again, offers us a definition of “occupation” as an accumulation of “seizing, delimiting, and asserting control over a physical geographical region, leading to a division of space into compartments, with a proliferation of internal boundaries and frontiers separating populations into discrete and fragmented units.” Therefore, disruptions to fragmentation, reclaimed control over a physical region, and challenges to dominant epistemologies have the potential to dismantle “occupation” from the inside-out. In other words, occupied and colonized populations can work backwards (from practices of kinship, placemaking, and collective memory formation) to decolonize/de-occupy their spaces.
Junaid begins by writing about martyrdom as a political site. In Kashmir, martyrdom evokes a double meaning, one of witnessing and one of sacrifice. Acts of witnessing and sacrifice both situate death within a public and, therefore, political context. In this sense, martyrdom is tied to spectacle; Ather Zia’s applications of Foucault’s modes of discipline via surveillance/spectacle becomes particularly salient as public death/humiliation is rendered as an exertion of “power and control over bodies through gruesome displays, with the intent of restraining criminality, mutiny, and dissidence.” Commemorating martyrs, therefore, subverts the death as both a rallying cry and a historical marker.
Junaid’s scholarship, which focuses on commemorations of martyrs as resistance, presents graveyards as a place for shared temporalities, historiographies, and other expressions of collectivity. He outlines the stakes that places (and placemaking) may hold by sharing that places “produce a common arena of engagement” and force occupied subjects to “sense a certain order of things.” Thinking again of working backwards,“the construction of martyrs’ graveyards can also be seen as an attempt to reclaim Kashmir as a place of meaning, memory, and struggle — a place with a different history, one that runs counter to the state narrative” and biases back to Kashmiri relations and epistemologies. Junaid writes the following of martyrdom and its recognition:
Martyrdom, as a death that is seen or that takes place in public, must be understood as a death that occurs within a political context. In other words, martyrdom must be publicly seen as martyrdom, and this can happen only when such a death has some meaning within a political context. Building public monuments for the dead is one way to socially recognize martyrdom. In Kashmir, martyrs’ graveyards are a manifestation of this recognition.
Graveyards and other memorials of Kashmiri martyrdom have thus become sites of political ruptures and, as such, they enable Kashmiris to contest dominant Indian rhetorics, narratives, or historiographies in Kashmir. Graveyards become markers of a “history yet to be written, a history of state violence that the state has sought to efface.” Kashmiris have therefore employed graveyards to mark “any event of collective or individual Kashmiri stance against non-Kashmiri rulers,” which are perceived by the Kashmiri public as “achievements.” The earliest example of martyrs’ graveyards dates back to 1931, in commemoration of a Muslim revolt against Kashmir’s “Hindu Dogra monarchy,” during which Dogra state police “killed dozens of protesters.” The presence of this commemoration is especially critical when regarded alongside contesting claims by “pro-India parties,” who claim this history as their own. Since 1990, during which another Kashmiri mass mobilization against state authority took place, martyrdom has become an especially charged area of remembrance and counterhistorical activism in Kashmir.
As India works to “Hinduize” and “Indianize” Kashmir, it has therefore turned towards blockading Kashmiri commemorative practices — signaling India’s acute awareness of the threat posed by extranationalist pathways to sovereignty. If memorials “produce a temporality that is different from what the Indian state discourse would like its Kashmiri subjects to remember,” interruptions to these counterhistories/temporalities/spatializations reinforce India’s dominant narratives and spatio-temporalities in Kashmir. The extent of these defensive tactics have included forestalling attempts by “tehreek parties to construct a martyrs’ memorial in Srinagar,” bulldozing “drinker water fountains named after local martyrs,” and using bureaucratic impediments “to prevent the upkeep of the existing martyrs’ graveyards.”
India’s perception and response to Kashmiri commemoration sites is fascinating as it espouses just how legitimate placemaking and land-relations are as modes of achieving sovereignty and decolonization. As Ana-Maurine Lara writes in Queer Freedom : Black Sovereignty, the imposition of those “accumulation and ownership” logics central to capitalist-state regimes has “dispossessed and continues to dispossess millions of people(s) of body-lands, water-memories, and altars-puntos.” However, the occupied/subaltern class can seek sovereignty not from the nation-state apparatus nor colonial logics, but instead from an internal, cosmological, and critical consciousness among communities. Counternarratives and cultural productions, as Bhan, Duschinski, and Zia argue, do produce critical consciousness as they “forge a larger culture of resistance in which poetry as much as politics provide tools to mourn death, celebrate Kashmiri martyrdom, and energize the fight against India’s occupation.” These “extrapolitical” resistances, to put it in Chakrabarty’s words, work “along the axes of kinship, religion, and caste, and involving gods, spirits, and supernatural agents as actors alongside humans” to forge a “consciousness that had not quite come to terms with the secular-institutional logic of the political” and consequently refuses to engage with such logic.
This paper ends as it begins: by referencing past visions of sovereignty and combating lingering colonialities. Just as Gandhi conceived of Swaraj in response to British occupation of India, in imagining decolonial futures for Kashmir we may appeal to a Kashmiri Swaraj for which the following criteria emerge: Decolonial Kashmiri futures must entirely abandon vestiges of capital, of empire, of Western logics and their attendant institutions. Instead, they should return cultural and spatiotemporal integrity and agency to the Kashmiri people. Kashmiri Swaraj will rewrite the rules of engagement in a way ameliorates Kashmiri colonial subjectivity and the unrelenting external gazes of non-Kashmiri rulers. Ultimately, the future of Kashmir, as a revised Swaraj would have it, must revert back to the collective memories, cultural productions, spatio-temporalities, and land-relations that Kashmiris are presently/have long been fighting to form and preserve, doing away with lingering colonialities in the process.
References
Bhan, Mona, Haley Duschinski, and Ather Zia. 2018. “Introduction. ‘Rebels of the Streets:’ Violence, Protest, and Freedom in Kashmir.” In Resisting Occupation in Kashmir, edited by Haley Duschinski, Mona Bhan, Ather Zia, and Cynthia Mahmood, 1–41. University of Pennsylvania Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv16t6dpm.3.
Chakrabarty, Dipesh. 2000. “Introduction: The Idea of Provincializing Europe.” In Provincializing Europe, 3–23. Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference (New Edition). Princeton University Press. https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt7rsx9.5.
Fazili, Gowhar. 2018. “Police Subjectivity in Occupied Kashmir: Reflections on an Account of a Police Officer.” In Resisting Occupation in Kashmir, edited by Haley Duschinski, Mona Bhan, Ather Zia, and Cynthia Mahmood, 184–210. University of Pennsylvania Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv16t6dpm.9.
Gandhi. 1939. Hind Swaraj, or, Indian Home Rule. Rev. new ed. Indian Home Rule. Ahmedabad: Navajwan Pub. House.
Junaid, Mohamad. 2018. “Epitaphs as Counterhistories: Martyrdom, Commemoration, and the Work of Graveyards in Kashmir.” In Resisting Occupation in Kashmir, edited by Haley Duschinski, Mona Bhan, Ather Zia, and Cynthia Mahmood, 248–77. University of Pennsylvania Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv16t6dpm.12.
Kauanui, J. Kēhaulani. 2018. Paradoxes of Hawaiian Sovereignty. Duke University Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv1198v1v.
Lara, Ana-Maurine. 2020. Queer Freedom: Black Sovereignty. Albany, United States: State University of New York Press. http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/tufts-ebooks/detail.action?docID=6416756.
Magyar-Haas, Veronika. 2020. “Shame as an Anthropological, Historical and Social Emotion.” In Shame and Social Work, edited by Liz Frost, Veronika Magyar-Haas, Holger Schoneville, and Alessandro Sicora, 1st ed., 55–78. Bristol University Press. https://doi.org/10.46692/9781447344070.004.
Mamdani, Mahmood. 2020. Neither Settler nor Native: The Making and Unmaking of Permanent Minorities. Cambridge, UNITED STATES: Harvard University Press. http://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/tufts-ebooks/detail.action?docID=6367801.
Zia, Ather. 2018. “The Killable Kashmiri Body: The Life and Execution of Afzal Guru.” In Resisting Occupation in Kashmir, edited by Haley Duschinski, Mona Bhan, Ather Zia, and Cynthia Mahmood, 103–28. University of Pennsylvania Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv16t6dpm.6.
