The Influx of ‘Pisupo’: Food Colonialism in the South Pacific

Globalization has created an influx of unhealthy canned food in the South Pacific region, leading to a dependency on it and increasing health issues associated with an unhealthy diet. 

The influx of canned food in the South Pacific has led to a variety of problems. Salvation Army USA West. CC BY 2.0.

The legacy of colonialism has a lasting impact on the island of the South Pacific. Many of those islands have been colonized by Western powers, and some of them are still under the control of foreign countries. Due to this, Western influences are still pervasive throughout the region. 

One lasting legacy of Western imperialism in the South Pacific is the introduction of canned and processed food. The first canned food to be brought to the region was pea soup, and therefore, Samoan and a few other languages of the region, the word for canned food in general is “pisupo.” Today, the predominant type of canned food in the region is corned beef.

The prevalence of canned food in the South Pacific has changed the diets of the people living there and has caused a dependence on them. The new diets of the South Pacific Islanders are not necessarily an improvement from their traditional diets. However, as canned and processed foods are generally unhealthy and lacking in nutrients. That has resulted in an increase of obesity, diabetes and heart disease. Between 1990 and 2010, the total disability-adjusted life years lost to obesity also quadrupled in the region.

The traditional diets of South Pacific Islanders provide the nutrients needed for a healthy life. whl.travel. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

In order to provide these new foods, livestock such as cattle and pigs have been introduced to the islands, causing ecological damage. The island ecosystems are fragile, and large-scale ranching can easily destroy them. The dependence on canned food introduced by the West has resulted in not only harm to health, but also harm to the environment.

The proliferation of packaged and processed food has affected other parts of society as well, not just the typical diets. In marriage and birthday ceremonies in traditional South Pacific cultures, people often exchange gifts. While in the past, common gifts included fine mats and decorated barkcloths, but today, canned corned beef is one of the more popular gifts at those events. The introduction of canned foods has even changed traditional practices and contributed to the prevalent unhealthy diets of the South Pacific Islanders.

“Pisupo Lua Afe (Corned Beef 2000)” is a piece of art by Michael Tuffery that critiques the food dependency of the South Pacific. Sheep’R’Us. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

The neocolonial nature of these developments has its critics. One of them, Michael Tuffery, offers a unique interpretation through his artwork, with one of the most notable being “Pisupo Lua Afe,” a sculpture of a bull made from canned corned beef. He says that his art addresses the impact that the “exploitation of the Pacific’s natural resources has wrought on the traditional Pacific lifestyle.” His choice of subject matter and the material show his thoughts on the influx of canned food in the South Pacific. Bulls were a common presence at the aforementioned ceremonies, and the fact that the bull is covered in canned corned beef represents the fact that more traditional practices. Tuffery laments the changes that globalization has brought to his traditional Samoan culture, which has led to a “decline of indigenous cooking skills.”

With so much waste being created in the making of “Pisupo Lua Afe,” Tuffery calls into question whether the physical and cultural costs of food dependence are worth it. Could the South Pacific do better without the influx of canned food? Tuffery argues that it could. But even if the South Pacific Islanders decide to shun the prevalence of canned food, hurdles remain to improve the health of both the land and people of the region.

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Bryan Fok

Bryan is currently a History and Global Affairs major at the University of Notre Dame. He aims to apply the notion of Integral Human Development as a framework for analyzing global issues. He enjoys hiking and visiting national parks.

By Refusing an Apology to Algeria, France Shows Colonialism is Far from Over

Algerian architecture reflects continued French influence post-decolonization. mariusz kluzniak. CC BY-NC-NC 2.0.

French President Emmanuel Macron announced on Jan. 20 that he has ruled out issuing an official apology to the country of Algeria for past colonial abuses. This follows 59 years of tense relations between the two nations after the conclusion of the Algerian War in 1962, which marked the end of official French colonialism in the North African country.

The announcement comes as a result of a highly anticipated report on the matter of French-Algerian relations commissioned by Macron in 2020. Rather than a formal apology, the report recommends a “memories and truth” commission to review French colonialism in Algeria. Macron committed to setting up the commission in a statement.

The French occupation of Algeria began with an invasion in 1830, and lasted up until 1962 with the end of the Algerian War, which led to independence. During the 132 years of colonial rule, the French committed a number of atrocities against Algerians, including the massacre of an estimated 500,000 to 1 million Algerians throughout the first three decades of conquest, the forced deportation of native Algerian groups and the use of systematic torture against Algerians during the country’s war for independence.

Since Algeria gained independence, the French government has largely remained silent in regard to the atrocities inflicted during the colonial era. In fact, Macron was the first French president to acknowledge the use of torture during the war for independence when he did so in 2018. Macron has since gone on to demand further accountability, including calls for all archives detailing the disappearance of Algerians during the war. However, the Jan. 20 announcement signals that an official apology remains out of the realm of possibilities for the time being.

Decolonization Efforts Remain a Global Necessity

Protesters marching in Philadelphia in support of Puerto Rican independence in 2018. Joe Piette. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

Macron’s announcement is the latest reminder of the continued stains of colonialism which remain in the 21st century. While many former colonial powers like France have largely dismantled their empires and relinquished control to local populations, colonialism and the occupation of Indgenous lands still persists to this day around the world.

Both France and the United Kingdom notably retain overseas territories which are remnants of the heights of their empires. France retains varying administrative control in 11 regions outside of Europe, with a combined population of nearly 2.8 million. Conversely, the British control 14 territories which do not form a part of the United Kingdom itself or its European crown dependencies, representing a combined population of approximately 250,000.

Colonialism, however, is by no means limited to European powers, nor is the process itself a relic of the past. The United States, a country whose foundation is rooted in settler colonialism, retains control over five inhabited territories spread across the Pacific and Atlantic oceans which have a combined population of just over 3.5 million, all of whom are ineligible to vote in federal elections. Likewise, Hawaii’s inclusion in the United States as a state is a result of colonialism in the region where the U.S. systematically undermined native rule throughout the 1800s. 

Japan, a country which saw the height of its empire come to an end during World War II, retains control over Hokkaido and Okinawa, two islands with distinct Indigenous populations which have both seen independence movements throughout their time with the country.

China is an example of contemporary colonialism: while not specifically setting up colonies in overseas regions, the country invests billions of dollars in projects to develop African nations on largely unfavorable terms, creates artificial islands in the South China Sea to exercise dominance in the region, and continues to squash independence movements in Tibet and Hong Kong.

While movements for independence, apologies and reparations exist to varying extents in all of these regions, the scars of colonialism persist to this day and remain a contemporary issue unlikely to be resolved in the near future.

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Jacob Sutherland

Jacob is a recent graduate from the University of California San Diego where he majored in Political Science and minored in Spanish Language Studies. He previously served as the News Editor for The UCSD Guardian, and hopes to shed light on social justice issues in his work.

Sudan Separates Religion and State Following al-Bashir’s Ouster

The Northeast African nation of Sudan has made the decision to separate religion from the state, dissolving 30 years of governance by Islamic law. The country, which has been attempting to rebuild itself after long periods of colonial rule and political strife, came to this decision in an attempt to quell current tensions between religious and military groups. 

Sudan was formerly under colonial rule by the United Kingdom, though the British did not make their presence in Sudan a physical one. They maintained control by partnering with Egypt through a dual colonial government known as the Anglo-Egyptian Condominium (1899–1956). This agreement separated the Muslim-dominated north from the majority-Christian south. As colonial presence grew stronger in the region, so did division along ethnic, socioeconomic, religious and linguistic lines. 

Sudan was able to gain independence in 1956, but the country is still overwhelmed with tensions as its citizens and government continue to reconcile with issues caused by colonization. They eventually led to the Second Sudanese Civil War (1983-2005) between the central government in Khartoum and the Sudan People’s Liberation Army, causing an eventual 2 million deaths and the creation of an independent South Sudan. This conflict was amplified when Omar al-Bashir took office by way of a military coup in 1989 in the middle of this 22-year-long civil war. He ruled for 30 years and did so through the suppression of political opponents as well as violence against the Sudanese people. During his presidency, multiple arrest warrants were issued to al-Bashir by the International Criminal Court on charges including war crimes and crimes against humanity, such as his attacks on citizens in Darfur.

Map of Sudan. Muhammad Daffa Rambe. CC BY-SA 3.0.

Al-Bashir continued to hold his power until April 2019 when, after months of unrest, the Sudanese military toppled him. On Sept. 3, 2020, Sudan issued its declaration to sever ties between mosque and state, saying that, “For Sudan to become a democratic country where the rights of all citizens are enshrined, the constitution should be based on the principle of ‘separation of religion and state,’ in the absence of which the right to self-determination must be respected.”

Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok. Ola A .Alsheikh. CC BY-SA 4.0.

Prime Minister Abdalla Hamdok and Abdelaziz al-Hilu, leader of the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement-North rebel group, signed this document together. Additionally, the document emphasizes its effort toward unity with the statement, “Sudan is a multiracial, multiethnic, multireligious and multicultural society. Full recognition and accommodation of these diversities must be affirmed.” More than simply separating church and state, the declaration gives the country momentum in its push toward unification.   

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Renee Richardson

Renee is currently an English student at The University of Georgia. She lives in Ellijay, Georgia, a small mountain town in the middle of Appalachia. A passionate writer, she is inspired often by her hikes along the Appalachian trail and her efforts to fight for equality across all spectrums. She hopes to further her passion as a writer into a flourishing career that positively impacts others.

Panama Celebrates its Black Christ, Part of Protest Against Colonialism and Slavery

The life-sized wooden statue of the Black Christ in St. Philip Church in Panama. Dan Lundberg/Flickr, CC BY-SA

Panama’s “Festival del Cristo Negro,” the festival of the “Black Christ,” is an important religious holiday for local Catholics. It honors a dark, life-sized wooden statue of Jesus, “Cristo Negro” – also known as “El Nazaraeno,” or “The Nazarene.” 

Throughout the year, pilgrims come to pay homage to this statue of Christ carrying a cross, in its permanent home in Iglesia de San Felipe, a Roman Catholic parish church located in Portobelo, a city along the Caribbean coast of Panama. 

But it is on Oct. 21 each year that the major celebration takes place. As many as 60,000 pilgrims from Portobelo and beyond travel for the festival, in which 80 men with shaved heads carry the black Christ statue on a large float through the streets of the city. 

The men use a common Spanish style for solemn parades – three steps forward and two steps backward – as they move through the city streets. The night continues with music, drinking and dancing.

In my research on the relationship between Christianity, colonialism and racism, I have discovered that such festivals play a crucial role for historically oppressed peoples. 

About 9% of Panama’s population claims African descent, many of whom are concentrated in Portobelo’s surrounding province of Colón. Census data from 2010 shows that over 21% of Portobelo’s population claimAfrican heritage or black identity. 

To Portobelo’s inhabitants, especially those who claim African descent, the festival is more than a religious celebration. It is a form of protest against Spanish colonialism, which brought with it slavery and racism. 

History of the statute

Portobelo’s black Christ statue is a fascinating artifact of Panama’s colonial history. While there is little certainty as to its origin, many scholars believe the statue arrived in Portobelo in the 17th century – a time when the Spanish dominated Central America and brought in enslaved people from Africa. 

Cristo Negro. Adam Jones/Flickr, CC BY-SA

Various legends circulate in Panama as to how the black Christ got to Portobelo. Some maintain that the statue originated in Spain, others that it was locally made, or that it washed ashore miraculously. 

One of the most common stories maintains that a storm forced a ship from Spain, which was delivering the statue to another city, to dock in Portobelo. Every time the ship attempted to leave, the storms would return. 

Eventually, the story goes, the statue was thrown overboard. The ship was then able to depart with clear skies. Later, local fishermen recovered the statue from the sea. 

The statue was placed in its current home, Iglesia de San Felipe, in the early 19th century. 

Stories of miracles added to its mystique. Among the legends in circulation is one about how prayers to the black Christ spared the cityfrom a plague ravaging the region in the 18th century. 

Catholicism and African identity

Since its exact origins are unknown, so are the artistic intention behind the Jesus statue. However the figure’s blackness has made it an object of particular devotion for locals of African descent. 

At the time of the arrival of Cristo Negro, the majority of the Portobelo’s population was of African descent. This cultural heritage is significant to the city’s identity and traditions. 

The veneration of the statue represents one of many ways that the black residents of Portobelo and the surrounding Colón region of Panama have engendered a sense of resistance to racism and slavery. 

Each year around the time of Lent, local men and women across Colón – where slavery was particularly widespread – dramatize the story of self-liberated black slaves known as the Cimarrones. This reenactment is one of a series of celebrations, or “carnivals,” observed around the time of Lent by those who identify with the cultural tradition known colloquially as “Congo.” The term Congo was originally used by the Spanish colonists for anyone of African descent. It is now is used for traditions that can be traced back to the Cimarrones. 

During the carnival celebration, some local people dress up as the devil, meant to represent Spanish slave masters or complicit priests. Others don the dress of the Cimarrones.

Many of the participants in both the black Christ and carnival celebrations of Panama are Catholics as well. Together they participate to bring to light the Catholic Church’s complex relationship with Spanish colonization and slavery. Many Catholic leaders in the 16th to 18th centuries justified the enslavement of Africans and the colonization of the Americas, or at least did not object to it. 

A revered tradition

The different colored robes that are put on the statue of Cristo Negro. Ali EminovFlickr, CC BY-NC

Many people from throughout Panama have donated robes to clothe the statue. The colors of the robes donned by the statue varies throughout the year. Purple is reserved for the October celebrations, which likely reflects the use of purple in Catholic worship to signify suffering.

These robes draped on Panama’s black Christ are meant to representthose placed on Jesus when he was mockingly dressed in royal garb by the soldiers torturing him before his crucifixion. 

Evoking this scene perhaps serves to remind the viewer of the deeper theological meaning of Jesus’s suffering as it is often understood in Christianity: Although Jesus is the Son of God prophesied to save God’s people from suffering and should thus be treated like royalty, he was tortured and executed as a common criminal. His suffering is understoodto save people from their sins. 

Some pilgrims specifically come during the October festival to seek forgiveness for any sinful actions. Some wear their own purple robes, the color indicating a sign of their suffering – and, of course, that of the black Christ.

S. Kyle Johnson is a Doctoral Student in Systematic Theology, Boston College

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THE CONVERSATION

Don’t Blame Sharia for Islamic Extremism – Blame Colonialism

Warning that Islamic extremists want to impose fundamentalist religious rule in American communities, right-wing lawmakers in dozens of U.S. states have tried banning Sharia, an Arabic term often understood to mean Islamic law.

These political debates – which cite terrorism and political violence in the Middle East to argue that Islam is incompatible with modern society – reinforce stereotypes that the Muslim world is uncivilized.

They also reflect ignorance of Sharia, which is not a strict legal code. Sharia means “path” or “way”: It is a broad set of values and ethical principles drawn from the Quran – Islam’s holy book – and the life of the Prophet Muhammad. As such, different people and governments may interpret Sharia differently.

Still, this is not the first time that the world has tried to figure out where Sharia fits into the global order.

In the 1950s and 1960s, when Great Britain, France and other European powers relinquished their colonies in the Middle East, Africa and Asia, leaders of newly sovereign Muslim-majority countries faced a decision of enormous consequence: Should they build their governments on Islamic religious values or embrace the European laws inherited from colonial rule?

The big debate

Invariably, my historical research shows, political leaders of these young countries chose to keep their colonial justice systems rather than impose religious law.

Newly independent Sudan, Nigeria, Pakistan and Somalia, among other places, all confined the application of Sharia to marital and inheritance disputes within Muslim families, just as their colonial administrators had done. The remainder of their legal systems would continue to be based on European law.

France, Italy and the United Kingdom imposed their legal systems onto Muslim-majority territories they colonized. CIA Norman B. Leventhal Map Center, CC BY

To understand why they chose this course, I researched the decision-making process in Sudan, the first sub-Saharan African country to gain independence from the British, in 1956.

In the national archives and libraries of the Sudanese capital Khartoum, and in interviews with Sudanese lawyers and officials, I discovered that leading judges, politicians and intellectuals actually pushed for Sudan to become a democratic Islamic state.

They envisioned a progressive legal system consistent with Islamic faithprinciples, one where all citizens – irrespective of religion, race or ethnicity – could practice their religious beliefs freely and openly.

“The People are equal like the teeth of a comb,” wrote Sudan’s soon-to-be Supreme Court Justice Hassan Muddathir in 1956, quoting the Prophet Muhammad, in an official memorandum I found archived in Khartoum’s Sudan Library. “An Arab is no better than a Persian, and the White is no better than the Black.”

Sudan’s post-colonial leadership, however, rejected those calls. They chose to keep the English common law tradition as the law of the land.

Why keep the laws of the oppressor?

My research identifies three reasons why early Sudan sidelined Sharia: politics, pragmatism and demography.

Rivalries between political parties in post-colonial Sudan led to parliamentary stalemate, which made it difficult to pass meaningful legislation. So Sudan simply maintained the colonial laws already on the books.

There were practical reasons for maintaining English common law, too.

Sudanese judges had been trained by British colonial officials. So they continued to apply English common law principles to the disputes they heard in their courtrooms.

Sudan’s founding fathers faced urgent challenges, such as creating the economy, establishing foreign trade and ending civil war. They felt it was simply not sensible to overhaul the rather smooth-running governance system in Khartoum.

The Sudanese city of Suakim in 1884 or 1885, just prior to British colonial rule. The National Archives UK

The continued use of colonial law after independence also reflected Sudan’s ethnic, linguistic and religious diversity.

Then, as now, Sudanese citizens spoke many languages and belonged to dozens of ethnic groups. At the time of Sudan’s independence, people practicing Sunni and Sufi traditions of Islam lived largely in northern Sudan. Christianity was an important faith in southern Sudan.

Sudan’s diversity of faith communities meant that maintaining a foreign legal system – English common law – was less controversial than choosing whose version of Sharia to adopt.

Why extremists triumphed

My research uncovers how today’s instability across the Middle East and North Africa is, in part, a consequence of these post-colonial decisions to reject Sharia.

In maintaining colonial legal systems, Sudan and other Muslim-majority countries that followed a similar path appeased Western world powers, which were pushing their former colonies toward secularism.

But they avoided resolving tough questions about religious identity and the law. That created a disconnect between the people and their governments.

In the long run, that disconnect helped fuel unrest among some citizens of deep faith, leading to sectarian calls to unite religion and the state once and for all. In Iran, Saudi Arabia and parts of Somalia and Nigeria, these interpretations triumphed, imposing extremist versions of Sharia over millions of people.

In other words, Muslim-majority countries stunted the democratic potential of Sharia by rejecting it as a mainstream legal concept in the 1950s and 1960s, leaving Sharia in the hands of extremists.

But there is no inherent tension between Sharia, human rights and the rule of law. Like any use of religion in politics, Sharia’s application depends on who is using it – and why.

Leaders of places like Saudi Arabia and Brunei have chosen to restrict women’s freedom and minority rights. But many scholars of Islam and grassroots organizations interpret Sharia as a flexible, rights-oriented and equality-minded ethical order.

Women in Saudi Arabia have campaigned for gender equality, including the right to drive cars. Reuters/Faisal Nasser

Religion and the law worldwide

Religion is woven into the legal fabric of many post-colonial nations, with varying consequences for democracy and stability.

After its 1948 founding, Israel debated the role of Jewish law in Israeli society. Ultimately, Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion and his allies opted for a mixed legal system that combined Jewish law with English common law.

In Latin America, the Catholicism imposed by Spanish conquistadors underpins laws restricting abortion, divorce and gay rights.

And throughout the 19th century, judges in the U.S. regularly invoked the legal maxim that “Christianity is part of the common law.” Legislators still routinely invoke their Christian faith when supporting or opposing a given law.

Political extremism and human rights abuses that occur in those places are rarely understood as inherent flaws of these religions.

When it comes to Muslim-majority countries, however, Sharia takes the blame for regressive laws – not the people who pass those policies in the name of religion.

Fundamentalism and violence, in other words, are a post-colonial problem – not a religious inevitability.

For the Muslim world, finding a system of government that reflects Islamic values while promoting democracy will not be easy after more than 50 years of failed secular rule. But building peace may demand it.

MARK FATHI MASSOUD is an Associate Professor at the University of California, Santa Cruz.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON THE CONVERSATION