Militarism Neg Framework

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Links – Feminism

Gendered violence allows for the hegemony—only exclusive centering of gendered violence can resolve the hegemonic dominance of the state

Nayak, Pace University Political Science Associate Professor, and Suchland, Ohio State University Slavic and East European Languages and Cultures Assistant Professor, 2006

[Meghana & Jennifer, 12/06, “Gendered Violence and Hegemonic Projects,” International Feminist Journal of Politics, 8:4, p. 473-476, 7/13/14, IC]

Gender Violence Makes Hegemony Possible

We want first to examine what the articles have to say about how hegemonic projects are made possible through practices of gendered violence. In other words, what can they tell us about the ways in which discourses and practices of the state rely upon gender violence in order to enact and wield power? Three pieces in particular highlight this relationship in interestingly different ways

First, Maya Eichler shows the centrality of gender to the Russian state’s policy of war and to citizens’ responses. Both Yeltsin and Putin used the wars in Chechnya to advance a notion of a militarized, patriotic and strong Russian state. Eichler argues that one can see the wars as a strategy of legitimation and that the association between war and state legitimacy is made possible through gendered constructions of militarized masculinity and patriotic motherhood. An economically and politically humiliated post Soviet Russian state invoked a discourse of fear that validated repressive tactics, bombing campaigns and the coding of Chechens as Islamic terrorists. Eichler explains that ‘[t]he Russian leadership’s use of war relied on the construction of, and association with, the idea of militarized, ordered, patriotic Russian masculinity and opposition, to the notion of a racialized, aggressive, anarchical, criminal Chechen masculinity’ (p. 491). The violence of the war allowed Russia to continue on its path to resurrect itself despite a separatist movement that belied its self-proclaimed hegemonic power. This view of gendered violence as a key component of state and nation-building challenges the literature in post-Soviet studies.

Eichler proves that post-Soviet transformation is a gendered process – and one that is not ‘simply a process of re-masculinization and the concomitant re-domestication of women’ (p. 503). Most importantly for this Special Issue, her analysis details the link between hegemonic projects and gendered and racialized violence through the example of the failure of Russia’s leadership to draw on those connections. Because the Russian leadership was unsuccessful in fully convincing the public of the necessity of war, the essay also addresses the fact that ‘the state’ is a fragile and contested field and thus uses violence to normalize its power.

Kartik Varada Raj draws upon implicit forms of violence, some of which are rarely cast within the framework of ‘gender violence’ but which we would argue are clearly implicated in the structural forms of gendered and racialized violence experienced by migrants, immigrants and refugees due to the state’s hegemonic project of producing borders (cf. Campbell 1992).2 As such, this essay is important in challenging readers to think through feminist theory in radical ways and to re-examine the usual understandings of violence. Raj uses the site of the Sangatte refugee detention center and the sans-papiers [without papers] movement in Europe to develop an analysis of how ‘the border’ and the people who inhabit it ‘constitute paradoxically the very conditions of possibility for any hegemonic state order’ (p. 514). Raj engages Marxist and feminist theories with the intended goal of advancing understandings of borders as places of violence that produce hegemonic projects as well as what he believes is the radical subjectivity of the bodies who inhabit borders.

Borders require violence ‘both delicately structural and brutally overt’ (p. 514) against liminal political figures, such as refugees-in-transit, thus enabling the production of the state and the circulation of global capital. While refugees seem to be a threat to state-making, the violent marking of non-citizen and non-place is what allows the state to define its literal and figurative borders. The kind of violence Raj highlights includes the symbolic instances of self-inflicted violence, such as that of Azad-Hasan, a young Kurd who sewed his lips together in response to the conditions in Sangatte. Clearly pushing the boundaries of how we understand the various practices of violence that operate within hegemony, Raj asserts (p. 522):

... this kind of delicate structural violence – some of it inflicted by self-harm – along with the daily brute violence of the authorities and other players, such as people-smugglers and xenophobic thugs, all form part of a pattern of a racialized violence emanating from the hysteric reaction of the state and capital to disobedient new subjects.

Gender violence, as conceived above, does not always translate directly into an empirically recognizable set of behaviors and practices. Rather, as Raj shows, hegemonic projects racialize bodies in ways that reveal masculinist anxiety and the gendered violence of hegemony itself. While Raj focuses on a European example, his work offers more of a theoretical contemplation on borders and subjectivity than a singular case study of European border politics. As such, we see his piece in conversation with the work of European, South Asian and Latina/Chicana ‘border theorists’ who articulate and politicize from a feminist perspective the ‘place’ of the border that women of color often inhabit.3 While coming from very different theoretical and political sensibilities, these scholars expose borders in their ability to discipline and categorize bodies but also in their radical potential as a ‘transitional space’ for new forms of consciousness and the decolonization of history and identity (Pe´rez 1999).

Both Raj and Theresa O’Keefe want to push the boundaries of how scholarship treats different forms of violence as they constitute hegemonic projects. In terms of understanding violence, activist-scholars including Andrea Smith and Dorothy Roberts have interrogated the relationship between violence, gender and race (Roberts 1997; Smith 2002). Through her work with INCITE! Women of Color Against Violence, Smith provocatively argues that gender violence within Native/indigenous communities should not be thought of or addressed outside of the history of genocide and the hegemonic projects of US imperialism and racism. Without naturalizing or isolating ‘violence against women’, Smith shows how various forms of violence – whether interpersonal such as domestic violence or national such as the forced sterilization of Native/indigenous women – are in different ways constitutive of the hegemonic projects of the state.

Similarly, O’Keefe articulates menstruation as a critical issue regarding gender violence. O’Keefe draws out the specific ways that hegemonic masculinity is intimately connected with social beliefs and attitudes towards women’s ability to menstruate. Her essay explains how the British state and its special forces in the North of Ireland used republican women’s menstruation as a means to humiliate and abuse women and their families during ‘fact-finding’ missions (unexpected raids on domestic spaces) and then later within prisons. The fear and shame that both British and Irish societies hold towards the ‘dirty’ act of menstruation was interwoven in the tactics used to punish the political opposition presented by republican women. O’Keefe details the various ways (including strip-searches requiring women to expose blood soaked sanitary napkins) in which the British state relied upon gender violence in order to control and punish republican sectarianism.

More than just a simple tool, O’Keefe claims exploiting shame and insults based on social norms regarding menstruation was instrumental to the operations and logic of the British state’s response to republican assertions for independence. As she asserts (p. 546):

To make women remove their sanitary pads when visiting political prisoners served as another way to humiliate and punish the republican community. As much as women’s bodies offer an enticing target of state-sponsored sectarianism and punishment, women’s ability to menstruate in fact heightens the value of such punishment.

The practices of humiliation – as a means of exerting state power – were not possible without the fact of menstruation and the differences and meanings denoted by that fact. Furthermore, the use of social stigmas around menstruation by British forces was successful in making difference seem ‘natural’. In effect, the urgent need to use gender violence in order to be, is demonstrated powerfully in O’Keefe’s work.

Links – Afro-pessimism

Violence against black people in America happens at a structural level more fundamental to civil society than that due to foreign militarism—the 1AC can’t solve without first answering questions of anti-blackness

Sexton, University of California Irvine African American Studies Program Director, and Lee, University of British Columbia Department of Geography Post-doctoral Fellow, 2006

[Jared & Elizabeth, 11/14/06, “Figuring the Prison: Prerequisites of Torture at Abu-Ghraib,” Antipode, 38:5, p.1014-1015, 7/12/14, IC]

In the US, there is among both state officials and the general public a long historical preoccupation with weapons of mass destruction in regard to blacks. Black people have been deemed, since well before the inception of the United States, perennial threats to national security—not for having such weapons (which might actually lend collective bargaining power—witness Iran or North Korea at present), but for being such weapons and thus always in need of containment, surveillance, sanction, deportation, elimination; a point that underscores the accuracy of Lewis Gordon’s formulation of “racism as a desire for black people to disappear” (Gordon 1997:63). What concerns us in this respect is the problematic rendering by many commentators of the torture at Abu Ghraib as, for instance, “eerily” or “hauntingly” “reminiscent of black lynchings”, while those same commentators display considerably less vigilance and indignation about the similar, and entirely contemporary, treatment of a prototypically black prison population here in the United States. Nearly all will acknowledge, perfunctorily, the violations of human rights in “Lockdown America” (Parenti 2000) carefully documented by international monitoring groups, yet few have moved beyond concerns for reform of current practices of incarceration, loosening their most repressive aspects, or rescinding the most egregious of drug laws. More to the point, the analogy between the foreign military prison and the domestic prison tends to obfuscate as much as it seeks to illuminate, since it is unable to remark the critical difference between what is happening in the respective carceral formations and why. Differences not at the empirical level—many practices were exported wholesale or transposed with little variation (Peirce 2004)—but at the structural level, the level at which Wilderson (2004) elaborates what he terms “the political ontology of race”.14

Now, there are compelling reasons for this general failure of discernment, but this fact makes it no more defensible. While departments of the same repressive state apparatus are called to question in each case, even the most preliminary examination makes clear that divergent aspects of its functioning are at stake at either end of the comparison; divergence between the “hard site” at Abu Ghraib and, say, Louisiana’s Angola Prison, or, more broadly, between the War on Terror and the War on Drugs. This is why, at one level, domestic political opposition to the US invasion of Iraq, or the vaster post-Cold War US militarism, cannot hope to mount viable criticism, much less effective political intervention, if it cannot subject to radical critique the local police forces and the ancillary juridical institutions with which they interact daily. So much goes for the welfare of POWs as well. The disinclination of left intellectuals to date—whether activist, academic, or both—to engage the question of prison abolition on the domestic front finds its counterpart in the hedging of their “responsible” commentary on the military occupation (in Afghanistan, in Iraq) and the accumulation of “unlawful enemy combatants”.15 There is a significant difference, after all, between calling for the immediate enforcement of Geneva Conventions in the global network of US military prisons (unlikely in any event) and calling for the dismantling of the network itself, the closure and demolition or conversion of its physical plant, and the release of the prisoners held captive within its walls (no more likely, of course, but no more fanciful either). For those who pause in lieu of subsequent reconstructive efforts, those animated by questions like, “What is to be done with former prisoners and the myriad social problems faced by them and their communities?” or “What will happen to Iraq now that it has been devastated by the war, how will it be rebuilt, and who will oversee its renewal?” we could—but will not here—entertain any number of policy packages and spending conversion schemes, none of which seem incredibly difficult to imagine (though most register as alien to the current political landscape) and all of which would certainly be better than present proposals for maintaining the relevant custodial relationship (Ali 2003; Davis 2003).16

American imperialism and accompanying violence is symptomatic of anti-blackness—the inherent violence between person and property is foundational and constitutive to civil society

Sexton, University of California Irvine African American Studies Program Director, and Lee, University of British Columbia Department of Geography Post-doctoral Fellow, 2006

[Jared & Elizabeth, 11/14/06, “Figuring the Prison: Prerequisites of Torture at Abu-Ghraib,” Antipode, 38:5, p.1013-1014, 7/12/14, IC]

The rituals of torture exposed at Abu Ghraib—staged events both reckless and deliberate, a whole theatrics of humiliation, terror, sexual degradation—provide, not contradiction or hypocrisy, but the necessary counterpart to the “American” principles of democracy, dignity, and freedom; what Zizek calls “the obscene underside of U.S. popular culture ... the disavowed beliefs, suppositions and obscene practices we pretend not to know about, even though they form the background of our public values” (Zizek 2004).11 In this sense, what the notorious images of frivolous brutality circulating throughout the global media environment evoke, however obliquely, is the ambient combat, and the attendant culture of authoritarianism, that operates without direct announcement and acknowledgment within the United States as an affirmation of its birthright in and as a slave society.12 This ancient internal warfare is foundational and constitutive; the primary division of humanity it enables launches the syntax of western modernity, the state(s) of democratic citizenship, the promise and compromise of civil society—not the division between the exploiters and the exploited or the rich and the poor, but rather the free and the enslaved, subject and object, person and property (Barrett 2006). The obscene underside of the popular culture, the “repression, torture, and sexual coercion that constitute the underbelly of a particular version of democracy, which has achieved dominance in the world” (Davis 2004:45), and the myriad peculiar institutions of social incarceration it has engendered, is the most intimate possession of black existence in the US—from the political and libidinal economies of chattel slavery (still determinate in current affairs despite wishful thinking from all quarters) to the official endorsements of institutionalized lynching (practices commandeered in recent generations by the proper authorities) and the codification of Jim Crow segregation (whose revival cancels apace the detours thrown up by the modern Civil Rights Movement) to the formation of the urban ghetto (which retains its powers of quarantine even in the aftermath of the “long hot summers” and the short flight of a fragile black lumpen bourgeoisie) to the rise of the modern day prison (whose ghastly presence supplies the hallmark of the so-called post-civil rights era) (Nast 2000).13

Their starting point regarding foreign militarism is a direct refusal to question the ongoing anti-black violence done by the American government to its own constituents

Sexton, University of California Irvine African American Studies Program Director, and Lee, University of British Columbia Department of Geography Post-doctoral Fellow, 2006

[Jared & Elizabeth, 11/14/06, “Figuring the Prison: Prerequisites of Torture at Abu-Ghraib,” Antipode, 38:5, p.1010-1011, 7/12/14, IC]

Rather than join the clamor that has arisen on the subject of Abu Ghraib, weighing in on precisely what it tells us about the folly of Operation Iraqi Freedom or the ferocity of the neoconservative program or the miserable character of contemporary US society, we may do better to consider why so many observers, observers who quite frankly know better, have seen fit to speak of it in such evocative, often melodramatic and bewildered, language? In the scramble to provide explanation for the litany of violence—presuming that such images of violence shock and confuse and disorient viewing audiences, rather than corroborating our existing knowledge and outrage and dissent—our critical commentators have, each in their own ways, attempted to reduce an elusive and disturbing political, economic, social, and cultural complex to a fixed aspect or moment or source in US society, to fashion an identifiable and stable object of criticism and opposition. Though the tropes vary somewhat, it is the Janus head that has surfaced, if inexactly, as the leitmotif of this drive (Carby 2004), a restorative figure upholding the possibility that the ideal, to say nothing of the infrastructure, of “American democracy” is, in fact, the other face of the gruesome visage revealed behind the prison wall, the promise on the periphery of the current and continuous mortification: the better angels of the indomitable democratic experiment, the old Spirit of ’76: infinitely redeemable and fundamentally decent (Whitney 2004). We submit, in contrast, that this overarching metaphorical initiative is as inapt as those that serve as its supports. Without the buttressing of its figurative keystone, the initiative may give way altogether.

Social critics across a range of publication venues have asserted, time and again, that there is a linkage between the atrocities at Abu Ghraib and the legacies of racism and other forms of oppression in the United States, particularly the history and present of anti-blackness—whether that link is one marked by scattered recollection or one that discloses “a direct, but hidden, line” (Carby 2004). But for all this imaginative trafficking, none has felt obliged to explicate the linkages, to justify the association, or to carry it to its logical conclusion. The latter would require, at the very least, speculation on the ramifications for the domestic front of opposition to the Iraq war, well beyond the rollback of the Patriot Acts and the enhancements of Homeland Security, which is to say, a return to the US of the Clinton administration. In asking whether the Left is, at bottom, willing to bring its critique of US imperialism back home, to say that occupation is corrupt abroad as well as at home, we find that the mobilization of hazy and indistinct metaphors of black experience is neither incidental nor optional. Rather, the imprecision of terms is mandatory to the discourse and such comparative comments are passing by definition. As we will see, to dwell at any length within the analogy, to meditate on the production of its conceptual space, only diminishes the rhetorical purchase of the endeavor. Why, then, forge the analogy in the first place? Why recall it, repeat it, cite it? In order to establish what point? Simply that the US is plagued by problems more long-standing and deep-rooted than is admitted by the tendency to represent Abu Ghraib as an aberration or anomaly? Even so, why make an argument en route that has to do with the enduring history of anti black racism? What conceptualization of anti-blackness—its placement in time and space—is enabled by and embedded within this gesture?

AT: Perm – Feminism

Perm fails—empirically proven that state action co-opts the movement

Russo, DePaul University Women’s and Gender Studies Associate Professor, 2006

[Ann, 12/06, “The Feminist Majority Foundation’s Campaign to Stop Gender Apartheid: The Intersections of Feminism and Imperialism in the United States,” International Feminist Journal of Politics, 8:4, p. 558, 7/13/14, IC]

In contrast, many other explicitly anti-imperialist feminists in the USA and around the world critically responded to what they saw as the cynical appropriation of feminist ideas by the Bush administration to justify its unjustifiable ‘war on terrorism’ (see Hawthorne and Winter 2002). The Feminist Majority Foundation, despite its counter-hegemonic politics against gender violence, reaffirmed, rather than rejected, the project of US imperialism and retaliatory violence as a method of maintaining US power. Because there are divisions in feminist responses to US wars after 9/11, it is important to speculate about what groups such as the FMF gain from colluding with the hegemonic projects of the US state.

AT: Perm – Afro-pessimism

The permutation fails—any attempt that does not center upon violence done onto the black body will always push the struggle for black freedom to the sideline to be ignored—even when recognized, it functions only as a conduit for understanding the suffering of others rather

Sexton, University of California Irvine African American Studies Program Director, and Lee, University of British Columbia Department of Geography Post-doctoral Fellow, 2006

[Jared & Elizabeth, 11/14/06, “Figuring the Prison: Prerequisites of Torture at Abu-Ghraib,” Antipode, 38:5, p.1016-1017, 7/12/14, IC]

The reticence of the Left to engage arguments, and efforts for prison abolition within the US and to center therein the ongoing struggle for black freedom, serves to hamstring its critical resistance to US imperialism abroad, leaving it open to capitulation on the emancipation of those with which it seeks to forge solidarity. It does so by approaching sovereignty as a matter of degree. Still, it is not hard to imagine scenarios—indeed, they already exist—in which the Left licenses itself to pursue radical platforms against imperialism, which is to say abolitionist campaigns overseas, while allowing the historical condition of blacks, irreducible to the shifting objectives of empire (or Empire), to serve as little more than convenient metaphor: source of insight and outrage, but only insofar as the trouble is quarantined to the past (as lessons learned) or rendered on scales too small or too big to demand action (as either nagging residue or eternal national shame). On this note, we should admit that there is something unconvincing, unpersuasive, and perhaps even fraudulent about the analogical links drawn between, on the one hand, the scandal at Abu Ghraib and, on the other, the fetid history of lynching or the contemporary horrors of mass imprisonment or both. The pretense is due not so much to the moral non-equivalence of the respective institutions (Winn 2004) as to their strict political in commensurability. Thinking productively about this incommensurability, rendering it legible, requires, above all else, the working through of a persistent screen memory—for “them” and for “us”—that dispatches racial slavery as an allegory for regarding the torture of others:

As an African American, these actions are all too familiar to me ... When Blacks arrived from Africa during the 1600’s, they were stripped of their clothes, pride, dignity and religion. Africans that were enslaved in America went through a tortuous process known as “seasoning,” which is a term referring to the process of breaking down the African physically, emotionally, and psychologically, hence making him/her submissive. Once the slaves arrived in America, members of the dominant culture raped women repeatedly, men were publicly humiliated and children were sold and separated. It is probably safe to assume that at Abu Ghraib the similarities vastly outweigh the differences. (Slater 2004)

Root cause – Cap

Militarism’s power is a direct and necessary result of capitalism

Shariati, KCKCC Economics Professor, 2007

[Mehdi S., 12/27/07, Payvand Iran News, “Research: Globalization, Imperialism, Militarism, Social Imperialism, and The U.S. National Debt,”, 7/12/14, IC]

The intensity of the propaganda is generally determined by the degree to which the public in the imperial centers must participate in the implementation of the imperial projects. It is in this context that globalization as implemented by the West and guided by the neo-liberal economic policies and aided by greater militarism and militarism as expenditure paid by from the general revenue and if the revenue is not sufficient, through borrowing for the purpose of capital accumulation on a global scale. And precisely for this reason, the general public is coached to believe that the empire is expanding "freedom" to non-Western world and encouraged to view this category of expenditures not only as a matter of national security, but it is expected to be a patriot by cheering the structure in its historical role in the process of accumulation. The institutional approach to the miseducation of the public include the aid of many institutions including but not limited to education, sports, arts, and religion particularly evangelical churches as institutional imperative.

Schumpeter (1951) argued that with the rise of the bourgeoisie, imperialism would disappear and that capitalism would not lend itself to imperialism. I argue to the contrary that the contemporary global capitalism reinforces imperialism and imperialism requires militarism, jingoism and capital's sponsored nationalism. It is possible that Schumpeter's observation was accurate regarding the capitalist mode of World War I era, but today's global capitalism to use Schumpeter's insight has the power of "creative destruction" and continuously reinvents itself. As Schumpeter (1951:96) observed "nationalism and militarism" while not creatures of capitalism, become "capitalized" and in the end draws their best energies from capitalism. Capitalism "keeps them alive, politically as well as economically."    

The contemporary global order has a hegemonic and advanced industrialized nation at the helm with the less developed world with its "de-nationalized" state subservient to it.  At least since WWII, the United States has historically been financially, politically, militarily and according to the proponents of the empire culturally the leader. This leadership has cost the United States taxpayers much on all fronts. Specifically, the financial burden of maintaining such a huge armada with sophisticated weapons systems has been enormous. As the leader of the advanced industrialized countries the United States taxpayers have been paying for the expansion of political and economic interests of the Western ruling elites. The trade off is in the area of the political support that the U.S. receive in dealing with international crises or challenges to global capitalism's expansion presented as "coalition" or "multilateral" efforts. The foundation of which was established in the period immediately after World war Two with its new Western dominated multilateral agencies such as the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the World Bank and agencies associated with United Nations.   Globalization both as a new form of imperialism in the era of informal empire and as a new phase in the intensification of the expansion and the development of global capitalism demands militarism as a means of overcoming challenges to its rule. Therein lies the fiscal crisis of the state as manifested by the United States national debt. The dominant classes whose pursuit of accumulation on a global scale has created the massive debt, ironically is the owner of a most of the national debt. In other words, the cost of accumulation as O'Connor (1971) observed is socialized.

Capitalism comes first—economic recessions cause militaristic lashout

Woods, Black Agenda Report Blogger, 2010

[Benjamin, Black Agenda Report, 7/6/10, “The Two Sides of the Same Coin: Global Capitalism and U.S. Militarism,”, 7/12/14, IC]

The Washington Post published a provocative article on June 4th entitled “U.S. ‘secret war’ expands globally as Special Operations forces take larger role.” The article shows that the Obama administration has continued the militaristic policies of the Bush administration by swelling the number of special operations troops in 75 countries compared to 60 at the beginning of last year. This illustrates that Black faces in high places (neocolonialism) doesn’t necessarily mean a change in policy. Therefore, it’s important to remember that the primary problem is not US militarism but imperialism and capitalism.

As the global economic situation worsens and the US is bogged down in wars, breaks in the system will occur which allow social movements to arise. To counter this trend, the United States, the military arm of transnational capital, will display more military aggression. Of course, the president is simply continuing the expansionary and imperialistic policies of the white settler regime in North America that started with the theft of First Nation (Native American) lands and enslavement of African people.

Their criticism fails without first combating capitalism—militarism is inevitably linked to profit

Robinson, University of California at Santa Barbara Sociology, Global, and International Studies Professor, 2013

[William I, Truthout, 8/26/13, “Crisis of Humanity: Global Capitalism Breeds 21st Century Fascism,”, 7/12/14, IC]

Fourth, in his brilliant yet chilling study Cities under Siege: the New Military Urbanism, Stephen Graham shows how structures and processes of permanent militarized social control systems and warfare constitute a global project that by definition is transnational. It is important to note that every country has become enmeshed in policing the global crisis as the global economy becomes ever-more invested in warfare, social violence and state-organized coercion and repression.

Fifth and finally, militarization and organized violence become accumulation strategies independent of any political objectives and appear as structural features of the new global capitalism. Wars, mass incarceration systems, militarizing borders, detaining immigrants, developing global surveillance systems - so forth, and so on - are immensely profitable for the global corporate economy, for the transnational corporations, the transnational bankers, investors and speculators. They have a material stake in defending and expanding a global police state. Popular forces from below must be aware of what they are up against, and of the need for fundamental change in the power and property relations of global capitalism, if peace and justice are to be achieved.

Militarism is symptomatic of capitalism

Seymour, political activist and blogger, 2014

[Richard, 3/7/14, The Guardian, “Global military spending is now an integral part of capitalism,”, 7/12/14, IC]

There are few surprises about the distribution of military spending: for all the current focus on China's growing military outlays – and it is significant that they have embarked on a sequence of double-digit increases as a percentage of GDP – the United States still accounts for 40% of such expenditures. However, the distribution is not the only thing that matters; it's the sheer scale of such investment – $1.756tn in 2012. The "peace dividend" from the end of the cold war has long since bitten the dust. Global military spending has returned to pre-1989 levels, undoubtedly a legacy of the war on terror and the returning salience of military competition in its context. In fact, by 2011 global military spending was higher than at any year since the end of the second world war.

So, what is the explanation for such huge investments? Is it simply the case that states are power-maximising entities, and that as soon as they have access to enough taxable income they start dreaming war?

In a very general sense, militarisation could be seen as an integral aspect of capitalism. One of the central ambiguities of capitalism is that it is necessarily a global system, with production and exchange extending beyond national boundaries; yet at the same time, units of capital (corporations etc) tend to be concentrated within national states where they are afforded an infrastructure, a labour force, and a great deal of primary investments. Even the process of globalisation presupposes the investment and guidance of national states. The more deeply companies are intertwined with national states, the more they rely on those states to fight their competitive battles on a global stage. Maintaining a military advantage is arguably an intrinsic part of this.

However, once this rather abstract principle is established, the question still remains unanswered. After all, there is no inherent reason why geo-economic competition should lead to defence spending consuming trillions of dollars of value each year. Part of the answer has to be located in the way that high levels of military spending became such an entrenched part of the global landscape in the aftermath of two world wars.

In the context of the second world war, and then in the subsequent cold war, one thing about military spending that became abundantly clear is that it is never just about conflict. As in the conduct of wars themselves, the institutionalisation of military spending quickly becomes entangled in a series of incentives that are entirely tangential to the ostensive motive.

First of all, states that do embark on large scale military investment quickly assume strategic command of core sectors of the economy, allowing for a degree of planning and co-ordination, a level of state capacity that might otherwise be deplored by business as "socialism". Quite a lot of the major US technological advances made under the rubric of "free enterprise", including particularly Apple's innovations, owe themselves originally to state investments organised under the banner of "defence".

Second, military investment is not just an effect of economic growth, but often a lever in enhancing it. This is a complicated story in itself. Post-war US growth was probably enhanced by arms spending, but the levels of spending required during the Vietnam war sapped too much capital away from other profitable investments. By the same token, it is not clear whether Japan's rise to becoming a major global economic power would have been possible had its military commitments not been constitutionally limited.

Nonetheless, there is some complex evidence of arms spending increasing growth. Barry Rundquist and Thomas Carsey's study of military procurement in the United States demonstrates that this has a distributive aspect. Such spending in the US helps already wealthy, booming locales become even wealthier, but it does not tend to make poor areas wealthier and nor does it reduce unemployment. This is quite significant, because one of the major arguments governments offer for protecting military spending is that it protects jobs – the one situation in which governments almost always feign an interest in employment. There is actually little evidence for this claim.

That brings us to a final point. There is no way to discuss the real dimensions of military competition without looking at how this is represented for particular audiences. One thinks of the way in which struggles over arms spending in the US become inflected with evocations of external threats, which help consolidate domestic power blocs. The Reaganite-era neo-conservative bloc was impossible without an elevated Russian "threat". So, particularly in states with an imperialist role, military spending can become complexly bound up not only with state-building strategies and agendas for regional economic growth, but also with domestic hegemonic strategies in which the legitimacy of governments hinges upon their ability to project violence.

Speaking for others

Speaking for others turns the case—replicates oppression

Alcoff, City University of New York Philosophy Professor, 1991

[Linda, Winter 1991, “The Problem of Speaking For Others,” Cultural Critique, 20, p. 2-3, 7/12/14, IC]

Feminist discourse is not the only site in which the problem of speaking for others has been acknowledged and addressed. In anthropology there is similar discussion about whether it is possible to speak for others either adequately or justifiably. Trinh T. Minh-ha explains the grounds for skepticism when she says that anthropology is "mainly a conversation of `us' with `us' about `them,' of the white man with the white man about the primitive-nature which `them' is silenced. `Them' always stands on the other side of the hill, naked and speechless...`them' is only admitted among `us', the discussing subjects, when accompanied or introduced by an `us'..."4 Given this analysis, even ethnographies written by progressive anthropologists are a priori regressive because of the structural features of anthropological discursive practice. The recognition that there is a problem in speaking for others has followed from the widespread acceptance of two claims. First, there has been a growing awareness that where one speaks from affects both the meaning and truth of what one says, and thus that one cannot assume an ability to transcend her location. In other words, a speaker's location (which I take here to refer to her social location or social identity) has an epistemically significant impact on that speaker's claims, and can serve either to authorize or dis-authorize one's speech. The creation of Women's Studies and African American Studies departments were founded on this very belief: that both the study of and the advocacy for the oppressed must come to be done principally by the oppressed themselves, and that we must finally acknowledge that systematic divergences in social location between speakers and those spoken for will have a significant effect on the content of what is said. The unspoken premise here is simply that a speaker's location is epistemically salient. I shall explore this issue further in the next section. The second claim holds that not only is location epistemically salient, but certain privileged locations are discursively dangerous.5 In particular, the practice of privileged persons speaking for or on behalf of less privileged persons has actually resulted (in many cases) in increasing or reenforcing the oppression of the group spoken for. This was part of the argument made against Anne Cameron's speaking for Native women: Cameron's intentions were never in question, but the effects of her writing were argued to be harmful to the needs of Native authors because it is Cameron rather than they who will be listened to and whose books will be bought by readers interested in Native women. Persons from dominant groups who speak for others are often treated as authenticating presences that confer legitimacy and credibility on the demands of subjugated speakers; such speaking for others does nothing to disrupt the discursive hierarchies that operate in public spaces. For this reason, the work of privileged authors who speak on behalf of the oppressed is becoming increasingly criticized by members of those oppressed groups themselves.6

That turns the case—the 1AC’s desire to speak for others reinforces racism, imperialism, and retrenches colonialist hierarchies

Alcoff, City University of New York Philosophy Professor, 1991

[Linda, Winter 1991, “The Problem of Speaking For Others,” Cultural Critique, 20, p. 17-20, 7/12/14, IC]

The impetus to speak must be carefully analyzed and, in many cases (certainly for academics!), fought against. This may seem an odd way to begin discussing how to speak for, but the point is that the impetus to always be the speaker and to speak in all situations must be seen for what it is: a desire for mastery and domination. If one's immediate impulse is to teach rather than listen to a less-privileged speaker, one should resist that impulse long enough to interrogate it carefully. Some of us have been taught that by right of having the dominant gender, class, race, letters after our name, or some other criterion, we are more likely to have the truth. Others have been taught the opposite and will speak haltingly, with apologies, if they speak at all. HYPERLINK "" \l "footnote16" 16 At the same time, we have to acknowledge that the very decision to "move over" or retreat can occur only from a position of privilege. Those who are not in a position of speaking at all cannot retreat from an action they do not employ. Moreover, making the decision for oneself whether or not to retreat is an extension or application of privilege, not an abdication of it. Still, it is sometimes called for. (2) We must also interrogate the bearing of our location and context on what it is we are saying, and this should be an explicit part of every serious discursive practice we engage in. Constructing hypotheses about the possible connections between our location and our words is one way to begin. This procedure would be most successful if engaged in collectively with others, by which aspects of our location less obvious to us might be revealed. HYPERLINK "" \l "footnote17" 17 One deformed way in which this is too often carried out is when speakers offer up in the spirit of "honesty" autobiographical information about themselves, usually at the beginning of their discourse as a kind of disclaimer. This is meant to acknowledge their own understanding that they are speaking from a specified, embodied location without pretense to a transcendental truth. But as Maria Lugones and others have forcefully argued, such an act serves no good end when it is used as a disclaimer against one's ignorance or errors and is made without critical interrogation of the bearing of such an autobiography on what is about to be said. It leaves for the listeners all the real work that needs to be done. For example, if a middle class white man were to begin a speech by sharing with us this autobiographical information and then using it as a kind of apologetics for any limitations of his speech, this would leave to those of us in the audience who do not share his social location all the work of translating his terms into our own, apprising the applicability of his analysis to our diverse situation, and determining the substantive relevance of his location on his claims. This is simply what less-privileged persons have always had to do for ourselves when reading the history of philosophy, literature, etc., which makes the task of appropriating these discourses more difficult and time-consuming (and alienation more likely to result). Simple unanalyzed disclaimers do not improve on this familiar situation and may even make it worse to the extent that by offering such information the speaker may feel even more authorized to speak and be accorded more authority by his peers. (3) Speaking should always carry with it an accountability and responsibility for what one says. To whom one is accountable is a political/epistemological choice contestable, contingent and, as Donna Haraway says, constructed through the process of discursive action. What this entails in practice is a serious commitment to remain open to criticism and to attempt actively, attentively, and sensitively to "hear" the criticism (understand it). A quick impulse to reject criticism must make one wary. (4) Here is my central point. In order to evaluate attempts to speak for others in particular instances, we need to analyze the probable or actual effects of the words on the discursive and material context. One cannot simply look at the location of the speaker or her credentials to speak; nor can one look merely at the propositional content of the speech; one must also look at where the speech goes and what it does there. Looking merely at the content of a set of claims without looking at their effects cannot produce an adequate or even meaningful evaluation of it, and this is partly because the notion of a content separate from effects does not hold up. The content of the claim, or its meaning, emerges in interaction between words and hearers within a very specific historical situation. Given this, we have to pay careful attention to the discursive arrangement in order to understand the full meaning of any given discursive event. For example, in a situation where a well-meaning First world person is speaking for a person or group in the Third world, the very discursive arrangement may reinscribe the "hierarchy of civilizations" view where the U. S. lands squarely at the top. This effect occurs because the speaker is positioned as authoritative and empowered, as the knowledgeable subject, while the group in the Third World is reduced, merely because of the structure of the speaking practice, to an object and victim that must be championed from afar. Though the speaker may be trying to materially improve the situation of some lesser-privileged group, one of the effects of her discourse is to reenforce racist, imperialist conceptions and perhaps also to further silence the lesser-privileged group's own ability to speak and be heard. HYPERLINK "" \l "footnote18" 18 This shows us why it is so important to reconceptualize discourse, as Foucault recommends, as an event, which includes speaker, words, hearers, location, language, and so on. All such evaluations produced in this way will be of necessity indexed. That is, they will obtain for a very specific location and cannot be taken as universal. This simply follows from the fact that the evaluations will be based on the specific elements of historical discursive context, location of speakers and hearers, and so forth. When any of these elements is changed, a new evaluation is called for.

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