This article offers an ecological analysis of Malika Mokeddem's novel N'Zid
(2001), moving beyond postcolonial and anthropocentric interpretations. It
centers on the protagonist Nora's individuation, arguing this process is
intrinsically linked to her evolving relationship with the aquatic environment
from which she emerges. The article aims to situate N'Zid within an ecological
perspective, particularly relevant in the Anthropocene, an era compelling a
reassessment of humanity's place. Echoing Bruno Latour, addressing
inter-relationality is essential as the stable physical framework of the Moderns
becomes unstable. This view necessitates rethinking environmental issues and
encourages a scientific interpretation of the novel, drawing on neurosciences,
ecological studies, and French eco-philosophy rooted in Gilbert Simondon's work.
[First paragraph] Water: The life force of all creation, the generative dynamism
of existence. Long before scientific experimentation and quantifiable
instrumentation verified the facts, human beings have perceived and understood
water to be the essence of all life, both material and spiritual. From the
beginnings of recorded history and even before, across the expanse of human
settlement and migration, indigenous as well as extraneous religions and
spiritual traditions have celebrated water as the primordial source: water was
sacred before it was material and water took on for multitudes of generations
until even today an expansive inclusivity that scanned the literal to the
metaphoric. Human civilizations began and flourished along waterways and all
first peoples identified both the miraculous life-giving but also the
concomitant life-ending power of water: water falls and streams, longitudinal
and lateral water-ways, rivers and other bodies of water, have been from
earliest times demarcated as sacred topography.1 The Cherokee of the southern
Appalachians mountain range in southern Tennessee know the river in their midst
as Yunwi Gamahida or “the Long Man,” an abiding, benevolent spiritual entity
whose waters were believed to be the source of wisdom and curative of all ills
and whose “hands” nurtured all Cherokee lives (Nabokov 53-57).2 Across the
geographical landscape, the Taos Pueblo people have always considered all lakes
and ponds in the neighboring high mountains as sacred sites but they hold in
especial regard the mystical Blue Lake (Ba Whyea) as the source of all creation
(Nickens and Nickens 23; see also Nabokov 73-78). Blue Lake is the bountiful
center of all existence, the liminal place of both birth and death, the eternal
source from which living spirits emerge to animate all creation and to which the
spirits return upon the cessation of physical life.
[First paragraph of Introduction] In the last 20 years, the number of tourists
venturing into remote parts of the Arctic has increased dramatically. This rapid
growth has shifted the region from a niche expedition destination reserved for
hardy explorers to a popular bucket list item luring tourists with the promise
of an exotic adventure to be experienced en masse. Although the phenomenon of
mass tourism in the Arctic is relatively new, it fits into broader themes of
globalization in which today far more people are aware of distant places,
interested in global travel, and are able to afford both the means and time to
travel for pleasure. Revolutions in affordable transportation in the modern era
have made travel more affordable and accessible for people than ever before
while the proliferation of social media around the globe has romanticized images
of far-flung places. As such, “low-priced transportation and organized tours
have played a huge role in the increase in global tourism” even to the world’s
most remote and unlikely places (Ritzer & Dean, 2015, p. 289).
[First paragraph] Bruno Latour’s project attempts to overcome the dualism
between nature and culture that still persists in our world. My focus will
reside on three of Latour’s books, namely, We Have Never Been Modern,
Reassembling the Social, and An Inquiry into Modes of Existence. Since the way
we live our lives greatly influences the way we think and, consequently, our
philosophical positions, it is important to say something about Bruno Latour’s
biography. His life was extremely inter and transdisciplinary, a strong reason
for his work to be so non-orthodox (Blok and Jensen 8).
In contrast to many Hollywood climate fiction films, Snowpiercer (2013) offers a
more complex representation of the white male savior. In contrast to films like
WALL-E (2008) and Interstellar (2014) that recuperate and invest in white
masculine privilege, Snowpiercer highlights the more destructive aspects of a
patriarchal capitalist system that privileges hegemonic white masculinity. While
the ending of Snowpiercer may seem bleak, it also points to the possibility of a
new system, an environmental futurity that centers indigenous knowledge and the
experiences of women and people of color. Though Snowpiercer is not formally an
American film, its casting of recognizable Hollywood stars situates this film in
a transnational American cinema context, and this is part of what makes this
film interesting to examine in contrast to mainstream Hollywood blockbusters.
[From first paragraph] This paper describes the role of socially engaged art
practices in opening up our pedagogical imaginations to foster reflexive and
creative approaches to building the local food movement. These contemporary
artistic engagements with local food or ‘food system localization’ are in the
genre of what has been called social practice artwork or, in other words, art
practices that focus less on the production of a singular aesthetic object and
more on the relational and experiential aspects of participatory interaction in
a creative process (e.g., Kester; Finkerpearl). In this context, I examine
social practice artworks that create experimental communities built around
shared practices of growing and eating locally grown food in cities; such as
FARM:shop in Dalston, UK, or Edible Estates, on suburban front lawns around the
world.
[First paragraph] The opening scene of the acclaimed documentary King Corn
(2007) shows Ian Cheney and Curtis Ellis, main protagonists, learning that corn
constitutes one of the main carbon molecules of their hair. Segue to introduce
the crop’s omnipresence in North American processed foods, principally used as
sweetener, starch and animal feeds, the almost banal scientific fact presented
in this scene is mesmerizing, providing a somewhat embodied support to the
popular environmentalist saying “you are what you eat,” or to Donna Haraway’s
poetic understanding of bodies and species as “full of their own others, full of
messmates, of companions” (Haraway 2008, 165). Corn has indeed subtly made its
way into our body, bite after bite, making it hard not to share Ian and Curtis’
awe while watching the film’s opening scene as it suggests that we, eaters of
North American food, unknowingly became corn. Well established as the darling
crop of nutritional technoscience, the introduction of genetically engineered
corn in the late nineties juxtaposed to its wide presence in processed foods has
spawned important political resistance, especially within Indigenous communities
in Mexico. From street protest, field-testing to heirloom seeds international
distribution, what is it exactly these activists were so desperately trying to
protect?