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This book uncovers popular games' key role in the cultural construction of modern racial fictions. It argues that gaming provides the lens, language, and logic - in short, the authority - behind racial boundary making, reinforcing and at times subverting beliefs about where people racially and spatially belong. It focuses specifically on the experience of Asian Americans and the longer history of ludo-Orientalism, wherein play, the creation of games, and the use of game theory shape how East-West relations are imagined and reinforce notions of foreignness and perceptions of racial difference.

Quand les conditions requises pour le dialogue ne sont pas réunies, il est difficile d’expliquer à une femme blanche : " écoute, nous ne voulons pas qu’on nous impose des de critères féministes hégémoniques " . Cela étant, je reconnais et j’apprécie tout ce que j’ai appris sur les différents courants féministes. Car grâce à eux, je me reconnais comme sujette épistémique et je peux me penser à partir du corps et de l’espace où je vis. Ou encore tisser des idées féministes. C’est ainsi que la construction consciente de mon identité féministe communautaire se renforce et en même temps, nous contribuons au mouvement féministe dans le monde. Par exemple, l’une des étapes que nous devons franchir passe par la langue : nommer dans nos propres langues, qui auront été libérées, les catégories et les concepts que nous élaborons pour analyser l’oppression subie par notre peuple dans l’histoire et notre libération en tant que femmes indigènes, autochtones, paysannes, rurales, ou villageoises. Francesca Gargallo est une écrivaine et féministe autonome italo-mexicaine. Licenciée en philosophie de la Sapienza de Rome et docteure en Études Latinoaméricaines de l’UNAM mexicaine, cette spécialiste de l’histoire des idées féministes, prenant acte de l’échec de l’utopie socialiste, propose de chercher des alternatives à partir d’un féminisme clairement antiraciste, qui fasse la critique de l’ eurocentrisme. Elle s’intéresse au concept de colonialisme interne de Pablo González Casanova, ou de Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui. Le livre dont nous traduisons deux extraits, Feminismos desde Abya Yala. Ideas y proposiciones de las mujeres de 607 pueblos en NuestraAmérica, a été publié en 2012 aux éditions Desde abajo.

This contribution interrogates the figure of the perpetrator as it emerges in narrative videogames. First, we provide a brief outlook on some key characteristics of videogames, before we discuss how the specific affordances of this “new” medium offer unprecedented ways of approaching and dealing with perpetrators and perpetration. Finally, we offer concrete examples from three games to illustrate different possible configurations of the playerperpetrator nexus—Yager Development’s Spec Ops: The Line (2012), 11 Bit Studio’s This War of Mine (2015), and Hangar 13’s Mafia III (2016). In contrast to other media, games enable an active exploration of, and participation in, a variety of possible offenses. Rather than merely witnessing evil deeds, players are immersed in simulated environments that demand constant evaluations of complex settings and require decision-making under systemic limitations. This performative aspect of play makes games a unique medium for learning and teaching about the intricate logics and innate dynamics of perpetrations.

This article looks at videogames about politics within the theoretical framework of Giorgio Agamben’s states of exception and argues that while videogames can reveal political issues by implementing rules into the gameplay, they simultaneously render the in-game rules and consequences inoperative in regard to real-world politics, which can be described as states of exception in Agamben’s sense. Agamben distinguishes between the fictitious and the real state of exception, and this distinction leads to his proposal of a politics of pure means in which he considers play as a means of profanation that renders what has been played with inoperative and free. Drawing on this discussion, the article looks at the parallel between the rules in videogames and the laws in states of exception and re-examines the concepts of game rules and play under the rubric of Agamben’s political philosophy. In so doing, it explores how playing with rules in videogames about politics can turn these games into states of exception to talk about and reflect on various political issues.

This article examines how “colonial time” is called into question in two short films of the National Film Board of Canada’s series Souvenir, from 2015. The question of time lies at the heart of this series, for which the NFB commissioned contemporary Indigenous filmmakers to take up their archives of visual material on Indigenous peoples. The colonial temporal framework is at work in the vast archives of ethnographic and documentary film and photography on Indigenous peoples dating back to the early twentieth century, in which Indigenous people are often represented as part of “vanishing” cultures. Thus, in this article, I underscore the temporal interruptions that occur when ethnographic visual material of Indigenous peoples is put into the hands of contemporary Indigenous artists. I focus first on what it means to repurpose dehumanizing colonial archives and ask whether visual sovereignty is in fact possible within the archives. By analyzing the reappropriation of archival footage in the short films Mobilize by Caroline Monnet and Etlinisigu’niet (Bleed Down) by Jeff Barnaby, I elucidate how the filmmakers break with modes of colonial time through what I propose to call “reframings” that offer alternative ways of conceiving of time. By rehabilitating ethnographic images, these filmmakers refuse to project the material into the distant past and complicate the readability of Indigenous images in the archives, revealing how the reappropriation of old images can be just as powerful as the production of new ones.

Hollywood at the Intersection of Race and Identity explores the ways Hollywood represents race, gender, class, and nationality at the intersection of aesthetics and ideology and its productive tensions. This collection of essays asks to what degree can a close critical analysis of films, that is, reading them against their own ideological grain, reveal contradictions and tensions in Hollywood’s task of erecting normative cultural standards? How do some films perhaps knowingly undermine their inherent ideology by opening a field of conflicting and competing intersecting identities? The challenge set out in this volume is to revisit well-known films in search for a narrative not exclusively constituted by the Hollywood formula and to answer the questions: What lies beyond the frame? What elements contradict a film’s sustained illusion of a normative world? Where do films betray their own ideology and most importantly what intersectional spaces of identity do they reveal or conceal?

Profiles and problematizes digital games that depict Atlantic slavery and "gamify" slave resistance. In videogames emphasizing plantation labor, the player may choose to commit small acts of resistance like tool-breaking or working slowly. Others dramatically stage the slave's choice to flee enslavement and journey northward, and some depict outright violent revolt against the master and his apparatus. This work questions whether the reduction of a historical enslaved person to a digital commodity in games such as Mission US, Assassin's Creed, and Freedom Cry ought to trouble us as a further commodification of slavery's victims, or whether these interactive experiences offer an empowering commemoration of the history of slave resistance.

This essay examines the representation and consumption of Mafia III and Watch Dogs 2 as a site of catharsis, pleasure, and empowerment. Through not only its repre-sentation of white supremacy but its rendering of intervention and transformation as violence, Mafia III and Watch Dogs 2 offer a powerful inscription of gratification. In other words, offering both a space of oppositional gaze and a virtual reality invested in challenging gaze based in violence,Mafia IIIandWatch Dogs 2 reimagine the conventions of both video games and violence.

This chapter unpacks the tension between secular, modern values and conservative, Islamic interpretations within the Indonesian middle class by taking the consumption of Turkish popular cultural products as a case. The chapter explicates the social responses towards the first Turkish television drama aired on terrestrial, private television in Indonesia: The Magnificent Century (Muhtesṃem Yüzyıl/Abad Kejayaan). This chapter understands the reproduction of secular and conservative Islamic values, while in contestation, as a response to broader global, market-capitalist developments. It finds that in response to audience criticism regarding the “un-Islamic” portrayal of the epoch in the drama—specifically the depiction of women as concubines—television stations enlisted the services of Muslim clerics to correct or justify the representation of historical facts. This reveals that market-driven self-censorship has opened up ways for Muslim clerics to influence television content. As such, the chapter argues that market-capitalist forces discursively use Islamic authority as a way to legitimise the halal consumption of Turkish drama among Indonesian Muslim audience at the expense of programme diversity.

This book examines the role of 24/7 television news channels in Bangladesh. By using a multi-sited ethnography of television news media, it showcases the socio-political undercurrents of media practices and the everydayness of TV news in Bangladesh. It discusses a wide gamut of issues such as news making; localised public sphere; audience reaction and viewing culture; impact of rumours and fake news; socio-political conditions; protest mobilization; newsroom politics and perspectives from the ground. An important intervention in the subject, this book will be useful to scholars and researchers of media studies, journalism and mass communication, anthropology, cultural studies, political sociology, political science, sociology, South Asian studies, as well as television professionals, journalists, civil society activists, and those interested in the study of Bangladesh.

This essay considers how the experience of Black folk descended from slaves in North America helps us to rethink a definition of play that has been largely informed by scholars and philosophers working within a White European tradition. This tradition of play, theorized most famously by Dutch Art Historian Johan Huizinga, French Sociologist Roger Caillois, Swiss Psychologist Jean Piaget, and New Zealander Brian Sutton-Smith reads play in a mostly positive sense and asserts that certain practices, namely torture, are taboo and thus cannot be play. I argue that this approach to play is short-sighted and linked to a troubling global discourse that renders the experiences of Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) invisible. In other words, by defining play only through its pleasurable connotations, the term holds an epistemic bias towards people with access to the conditions of leisure. Indeed, torture helps to paint a more complete picture where the most heinous potentials of play are addressed alongside the most pleasant, yet in so doing the trauma of slavery is remembered. In rethinking this phenomenology, I aim to detail the more insidious ways that play functions as a tool of subjugation. One that hurts as much as it heals and one that has been complicit in the systemic erasure of BIPOC people from the domain of leisure.

This chapter examines the intersection of popular culture and populism in Turkey by focusing on the TV show Payitaht Abdulhamid. Our motivation to analyze the recent TV series Payitaht Abdulhamid stems from our interest in the instrumental mobilization of popular culture for the Turkish government’s dual desire to both establish cultural hegemony and consolidate its populist style of government. Our analysis reveals that television, especially in the Global South, still plays a central role in governments’ desire to reconstruct history and establish cultural hegemony. This is particularly important as Turkey is going through a crisis of hegemony since the public is completely divided in its support for the government. Within the context of this hegemonic crisis, televised popular culture is vital, perhaps more than ever. Specifically, the show reduces a complicated history into easily understandable dichotomies and projects them on to contemporary politics in order to consolidate support for the government. Through televised popular culture, the government mobilizes history for purposes of cultural hegemony and populist politics flavored with nationalist, Islamist, and anti-Western motifs. Ultimately, the TV show presents yet another moment for understanding the mediated nature of 21st-century politics outside Western contexts.

African television is at the crossroads. This chapter surveys, describes, analyzes and explains the major changes that have taken place in the African television landscape since the 1990s. It focuses on three major developments that have marked the African television landscape: (1) liberalization of the television space to keep abreast of international developments, and the tension between entrenched governmental public broadcasting systems and newly licensed “independent” TV stations, (2) the process and impact of the analogue to digital TV switchover shepherded by the International Telecommunications Union, and (3) the diffusion of Chinese electronic technology, television, and film content on the African television market as part of the Asian giant’s “soft power” diplomacy and State capitalism. African television is constrained by political regimes that restrict freedom of expression, and regulatory agencies that preside over systems in which the law takes precedence over rights.

As a case study, this article examines the development of China’s online game industry and how China responds to the forces of globalization. Based on in-depth interviews, ethnographic research, and the analysis of archive documents from the past few years, this study identifies China’s evolving strategy of neo-techno-nationalism. In the Chinese context, this national strategy manipulates technology to create a version of popular nationalism that is both acceptable to and easily censored by the authorities. Therefore, cultural industries that adopt this strategy stand a good chance of prevailing in the Chinese market. This success explains why the regional competitors of Chinese online games—Korean games—are more successful in China than most of their Western counterparts. By providing a snapshot of the current ecology of China’s online game industry, this article also discusses the influence of regional and global forces in a concrete context and argues that the development of China’s online game industry depends more on political factors than economic factors.

Parution dans la revue Diogène d’un article co-écrit avec James Berclaz-Lewis. En dépit de la publication de travaux importants depuis les années 1990, le champ disciplinaire des études ciném…

En esta charla conversaremos sobre las luchas históricas por la reivindicación de los derechos del pueblo afro que están detrás de su estética, específicamente en dos de sus expresiones femeninas: el turbante afro y el pelo natural, los cuales han servido como elementos de resistencia para la pervivencia de las prácticas y costumbres ancestrales. Como parte de la exposición temporal del Museo del Oro 'A bordo de un navío esclavista, La Marie-Séraphique' (que se presentó en Bogotá del 7 de octubre de 2018 al 7 de abril de 2019) hablamos en el museo sobre algunos peinados ancestrales, como la espina de pescado, las tropas, el hundidito, el ciempiés y la vicha, y sobre los usos, significados y modelos de los turbantes afro, como la cadena del esclavo, la autoridad, el kitambala, el enkeycha y el doek. El termino mata ‘e pelo surge de las expresiones propias de nuestras ancestras, que se referían al pelo afro cómo una gran mata (árbol), frondosa, incontrolable y rizada, que requería unos cuidados particulares por su condición crespa, abundante y diversa. El cuerpo de la mujer negra, raizal y palenquera ha estado históricamente ligado a las luchas por la reivindicación de los derechos del pueblo afro, siendo la mata ‘e pelo el elemento estético que más las ha transmitido. Entre las personas de ancestros africanos, la estética del pelo afro se remonta a un pasado cargado de lucha y resistencia, pues las trenzas fueron usadas para la elaboración de mapas que marcaban el camino a la libertad de los cimarrones. Las mujeres se reunían en el patio para peinar a las más pequeñas. Diseñaban en su cabeza un mapa lleno de caminitos y salidas de escape, en el que ubicaban los montes, ríos y árboles más altos. Así, al verlas, los hombres sabían cuáles rutas tomar. Su código, desconocido para los amos, les permitía a los esclavizados huir. El balance humano de la trata de cautivos africanos a través del Atlántico es dramático: con una inmensa brutalidad, desplazó a 13 millones de hombres, mujeres y niños entre la segunda mitad del siglo XVI y finales del siglo XIX. #ElMuseoDelOroTambiénEsAfro Producción Banco de la República Realización Santiago Martínez

What could a history of game studies be from the perspective of a queer Chickasaw feminist scholar? Should this be a disciplining manifesto, a polemical call to arms for radical transformation, a survey of the existing scholarship that has thus far framed games ludologically as fun, as sportsmanship, as design, or as epic struggles for political power where the player rather ominously wins or dies? I’m a bit of an interloper as a recent arrival from Indigenous studies to video-game studies, a field that represents both the end of history and the ahistoricity of pop-culturally–oriented archives that are presentist at best, and at worst, complicit with an industry derived from settler militaristic technologies and platforms and compelled by niche markets to innovate faster and faster to saturate more and more households at the structural level of occupation. And then there is the problem of what the history of game studies has been: Greco-Roman, European, cis white male, heterosexual, orientalist, algorithmic, and code driven with the techno-optimism of Silicon Valley alongside Jane McGonigal’s fundamental belief that games have and will save the world once they unite the collective brain power of all the gamers and bend them to a single task—and if not all that, then peak 1980s geekery with a hint of liberal multiculturalism thrown in, if Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One is anything to go by. It is as if the history of game studies has only ever been an imperial read-only memory to be mined, played, and spatialized within the conscriptions of conquistador archives already known and yet to be discovered.

When E. Carmen Ramos organized Our America: The Latino Presence in American Art (2013) at the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington, DC, art holdings of Latinx artists at the institution were minimal and unbalanced. The museum lacked works by foundational figures; entire groups like Dominican Americans were missing, as were genres like abstract art; and with a collection dominated by colonial and folk art and work by Mexican Americans, it was impossible to produce any comprehensive exhibition of contemporary Latinx art, much less one that represented the diversity of artists and trends. Ramos was one of the few Latinx curators hired in the aftermath of the infamous 1994 “Willful Neglect” report documenting a historical pattern of discrimination at the Smithsonian Institute and calling for the hiring of Latinx curators to help direct the Smithsonian’s priorities in research, collections, and exhibitions.1 Twenty-five years later, this pattern of exclusion continues apace. In 2018, a study by UCLA’s Chicano Studies Research Center found that while the Smithsonian’s Latinx workforce grew from 2.5 percent to 10.1 percent, this growth falls short of representing the growth of the Latinx population, which since 1994 has doubled to 17.8 percent of the total population. In sum, the task of putting a dent in a mostly white canonical art history and collection was a daunting one, and whatever Ramos did would be a politically charged intervention. This would be the first major scholarly survey exhibition of Latinx art, a statement to insert it as central to US art history, and the first major show of its type in a major North American museum in decades.

Depuis quelques décennies, certains artistes colombiens cherchent à repenser ce que peut être aujourd’hui l’identité colombienne, et plus concrètement celle de l’artiste. Au-delà du stéréotype de ce qu’est le « Colombien » vu de l’extérieur, au-delà d’une histoire coloniale – et toutes ses problématiques – commune aux pays d’Amérique latine, ainsi que d’une histoire récente plus particulière connue pour son extrême violence, nous pouvons affirmer que l’identité colombienne est le résultat d’identités multiples, diverses et variées. Par ailleurs, il existe un dénominateur commun qui peut la définir car elle s’est construite durant ces deux derniers siècles à partir d’un concept : celui de « l’hybridité ».