Showing posts tagged archive
The bases haunt us because they emerged during a dreamspace, when we still believed in our capacity for revolution. … But hands are being wrung: when drones start dropping by, who will need a military base — or even a constitution? As psychiatrists say, repetition is the site of trauma. —Gina Apostol
Thousands of documents detailing some of the most shameful acts and crimes committed during the final years of the British empire were systematically destroyed to prevent them falling into the hands of post-independence governments, an official review has concluded.
Those papers that survived the purge were flown discreetly to Britain where they were hidden for 50 years in a secret Foreign Office archive, beyond the reach of historians and members of the public, and in breach of legal obligations for them to be transferred into the public domain.
The archive came to light last year when a group of Kenyans detained and allegedly tortured during the Mau Mau rebellion won the right to sue the British government. The Foreign Office promised to release the 8,800 files from 37 former colonies held at the highly-secure government communications centre at Hanslope Park in Buckinghamshire.
The historian appointed to oversee the review and transfer, Tony Badger, master of Clare College, Cambridge, says the discovery of the archive put the Foreign Office in an “embarrassing, scandalous” position. “These documents should have been in the public archives in the 1980s,” he said. “It’s long overdue.” The first of them are made available to the public on Wednesday at the National Archive at Kew, Surrey.
The papers at Hanslope Park include monthly intelligence reports on the “elimination” of the colonial authority’s enemies in 1950s Malaya; records showing ministers in London were aware of the torture and murder of Mau Mau insurgents in Kenya, including a case of aman said to have been “roasted alive”; and papers detailing the lengths to which the UK went to forcibly remove islanders from Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean.
However, among the documents are a handful which show that many of the most sensitive papers from Britain’s late colonial era were not hidden away, but simply destroyed. These papers give the instructions for systematic destruction issued in 1961 after Iain Macleod, secretary of state for the colonies, directed that post-independence governments should not get any material that “might embarrass Her Majesty’s government”, that could “embarrass members of the police, military forces, public servants or others eg police informers”, that might compromise intelligence sources, or that might “be used unethically by ministers in the successor government”.
Among the documents that appear to have been destroyed were: records of the abuse of Mau Mau insurgents detained by British colonial authorities, who were tortured and sometimes murdered; reports that may have detailed the alleged massacre of 24 unarmed villagers in Malaya by soldiers of the Scots Guards in 1948; most of the sensitive documents kept by colonial authorities in Aden, where the army’s Intelligence Corps operated a secret torture centre for several years in the 1960s; and every sensitive document kept by the authorities in British Guiana, a colony whose policies were heavily influenced by successive US governments and whose post-independence leader was toppled in a coup orchestrated by the CIA.
The documents that were not destroyed appear to have been kept secret not only to protect the UK’s reputation, but to shield the government from litigation. If the small group of Mau Mau detainees are successful in their legal action, thousands more veterans are expected to follow.
It is a case that is being closely watched by former Eoka guerillas who were detained by the British in 1950s Cyprus, and possibly by many others who were imprisoned and interrogated between 1946 and 1967, as Britain fought a series of rearguard actions across its rapidly diminishing empire.
The documents show that colonial officials were instructed to separate those papers to be left in place after independence – usually known as “Legacy files” – from those that were to be selected for destruction or removal to the UK. In many colonies, these were described as watch files, and stamped with a red letter W.
The papers at Kew depict a period of mounting anxiety amid fears that some of the incriminating watch files might be leaked. Officials were warned that they would be prosecuted if they took any any paperwork home – and some were. As independence grew closer, large caches of files were removed from colonial ministries to governors’ offices, where new safes were installed.
In Uganda, the process was codenamed Operation Legacy…
Brewster Kahle is on a mission. The former Silicon Valley entrepreneur made a fortune selling a data-mining company to Amazon.com in the 90’s, and now he is the man behind a $3M and growing undertaking to create a comprehensive physical archive of the printed word. This means, while many of us are shedding physical and virtual cargo by sending our data to the ‘clouds,’ Kahle is retrieving digital information and transcribing it back into print to be stored in a monolithic, temperature-controlled storage constructed from 40 shipping containers, reports the New York Times
mdhsphotographs: City of Baltimore, Bureau of Research, ‘Ext.’ Polytechnic Institute. 200 East North Avenue, Baltimore, Maryland; June, 1931. Hughes Company. 8 x 10 inch negative. Baltimore City Life Museum Collection, Maryland Historical Society, MC6125 North Avenue series. … The white lines and disfiguration of this acetate negative is what is known as channeling. [emphasis mine]
Times change, but struggles continue in different forms and with different tactics. In a radio documentary about the Oakland general strike of 1946 made by KPFA producers three decades ago, participants tell the story of what was called a “work holiday”. They discuss the context in which the strike took place, how it unfolded and shut the city down, and the ways it transformed those involved.
HANDLING | Kimberly Alidio
There is a woman in a house
and a primary source at the archive
kept at 60-70 degrees F
and 40-50% relative humidity (RH)
Damp outside brings pests
that feed on and nest in her
Factory-made suns embrittle
Holy see o holy meet me
under the roof of my mouth
Her chemical histories —
wet, hot, growths
on prominent display —
cumulate without looking back
I believe in one market
“Your family documents
will last longer if they are stored
in a stable environment,
similar to that which
we find comfortable
for ourselves” (The National Archives)
Lifted with microspatulas
she is gentled by a nitrile glove
out of the store-bought album
When the taro floods S. Florida
Refuge is fond of arcades
Archivally safe from acid release
A history of migraines is linked
to transient global amnesia
Modern ties applied with pressure
Cause stains that migrate
To the facial recto
Do you remember your migraine?
Do you know the person
who came with you to the hospital?
Soft the rag, rag paper
Adhesives remain tacky
Straining to read the surface
coating of words swimming
through sebum whorls
the finger skims the woman
or the primary source
Holy of hosts
A history of touch relaxes
our thickening outer layer
agents entering skin —
her fibers of glass or cactus
her compressed air and
pressurized liquid —
In our archival work, in whose ever hands it falls, this voice from the early time says to you always remember the tenderness of the exiled body, the wonder of queer people of all sorts taking to the streets that do not want them and the need to tell the story of how the journey continues. — Joan Nestle
This is a photograph taken by a former Workshop member, Arlan Huang, in 1971.
From the Basement Workshop Collective’s (1970-1986) archive-in-progress.
As an American of settler/immigrant ancestry as well as a scholar of Indigenous studies who spends a lot of time doing archival research, I often struggle with the archive as an institution. This is especially true of the federal archival system. It occupies problematic space. On one hand, it catalogs, organizes, and maintains records that the settler colonial government has used to make populations legible thus facilitating dispossession, extractive labor, and coercive assimilation policies. On the other hand, archives also, often unknowingly, preserve evidence of a colonial-settler state that allows Indigenous people to critique, shape, and resist oppression. Examining the exhibit itself illustrates both of these points. (via First Peoples: Blog » Blog Archive » Joseph Genetin-Pilawa on Decolonizing Archive and Museum Exhibits)