Cirrus@Austlit

'In the same year that Adam Goodes quit the game of AFL, soprano and composer Deborah Cheetham refused to sing the Australian National Anthem at the AFL Grand Final because she could not bear to sing the words ‘for we are young and free’. In this article, we examine why the act of singing about being ‘free’ would be both absurd and obscene for Blackfullas in Australia. Engaging with the songs of Black people, locally and globally, we reveal the fiction of free speech and freedom for all and the interests those fictions serve.'  (Introduction)

'On 9 December 2017, The Saturday Paper published ‘A Letter from Manus Island’, an essay and manifesto written by Behrouz Boochani, a Kurdish journalist and refugee being held on Manus Island with hundreds of other men. Boochani writes in a radical, ‘poetic’ voice that makes the ordinary strange again, as he talks of love, the interdependence of human beings, and the strength to be derived from acts of solidarity. He challenges not only the prevailing vituperative tenor of contemporary public rhetoric, but also the dehumanising discourses within which humanitarian practices in Australia, and in the west more broadly, operate. This paper is written as a letter, in direct reply to Boochani’s own. It is inspired by Lilie Chouliaraki’s critique of contemporary practices of humanitarianism and the ways in which politics, the market and technology have transformed ‘the moral dispositions of our public life’. It explores the unsettling effects and provocative insights presented by Boochani’s poetic voice – the refugee as human subject and agent rather than victim or object of pity (or hate). The paper thus reflects on our conventional responses to the ethical call to solidarity from vulnerable subjects and imagines how we might respond otherwise.'  (Introduction)

'Even if there were only one person reading my writings beyond this island, I would continue writing for that one reader.

'Dear Anne,

'This here is a pledge, a personal commitment. I made this pact with myself five years ago, during a time when no one knew where Manus Prison was. And now, after five years, I honestly cannot hide my feelings of joy. I cannot contain the satisfaction and pleasure it gives me to know that there are people in the public sphere and among intellectual circles who critically analyse what Australia is doing on Manus Island (Papua New Guinea) and the Republic of Nauru (Repubrikin Naoero) from philosophical and historical perspectives. After numerous years of writing from Manus Prison, my work has slowly entered public discourse and scholarly debate. I have discovered people who draw on these writings as foundations for serious academic research, and for me, this is the beginning of new initiatives and future approaches.'  (Introduction)

'No Friend but the Mountains: Writing From Manus Prison is a literary work typed using mobile phone text messaging and produced after five years of indefinite detention in the Australian-run immigration detention centre on Manus Island, Papua New Guinea. Behrouz Boochani’s Manus Prison narratives represent the fusion of journalism, political commentary and philosophical reflection with myth, epic, poetry and folklore. By experimenting with multiple genres he creates a new literary framework for his uncanny and penetrating reflections on exile to Manus Island and the prison experience from the standpoint of an Indigenous Kurdish writer. In addition, the narratives he constructs function as political and philosophical critique and expose the phenomenon of Manus Prison as a modern manifestation of systematic torture. Drawing on scholarship from social epistemology, this article emphasises the situated nature of Boochani’s writing and the interdependent way of knowing uniquely characteristic of his positionality. This study also demonstrates, from the perspective of the translator, the interdisciplinary nature of the translation process and indicates how a particular philosophical reading was required, particularly in order to communicate the work’s decolonial trajectory. The Manus Prison narratives depict a surreal form of horror and are best described in terms of anti-genre: the stories redefine and deconstruct categories and concepts; they resist style and tradition; and they show the limitations of established genres for articulating the physical, psychological and emotional impact of exile and indefinite detention on refugees.'  (Publication abstract)