Editorial #39: Hey! Teacher! Leave Them Kids Alone!*

*Another Brick in the Wall – Pink Floyd

Academia weighs heavy on the head that was historically ruled by a foreign Crown. The colonial history of international law is not forgotten by those who even today are impacted by it; and this is only magnified for those of us in academia. Growing up, my racial identity was never presented to me as a disadvantage (the gendered experience is a different concern altogether, a theme for a different op-ed perhaps).Yet, when I honed in on a career in law and social policy, the racialized experience of international legal scholarship revealed itself to me. Today, as a so-called early career scholar, I encounter a Eurocentric ceiling, too high for most BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Colour) from the actual Global South to break through. Not to mention, I (and many like me) am thrust into the uncomfortable position of having conversations with authority figures who have, as a generalization, benefited from the very institutions of exploitation that international law itself is built on.

The absence of critical race theory in European law schools reflects the overall reluctance to bring up ‘race’ in educational spaces. These are by no means comfortable conversations, but that does not mean they are not necessary. Adopting an American legal theory is not the cure-all to flaws in teaching international law beyond its Westphalian conception, but perhaps teaches young students to engage with the content (more) critically. The scholarly greats like Grotius and Vattel championed an empiricist international law; a superiority of European culture that has had a trickle-down effect in law schools today. Reading lists do not often equally include scholars that critique the origins of international law, as much as those who write about the importance of it. How much Anghie do we assign as compulsory reading and is it enough? Why do we hide the critical international scholarship in the footnotes and optional reading sections? My experience in teaching public international law at a Western European university has been enlightening – mostly in recognising that I was the only visibly brown academic in the entire college. It is difficult to not feel like a diversity hire, mitigating potential accusations of discriminatory bias, while finding solace in the fact that maybe a few students perhaps finally feel represented. This of course comes with the awareness that without the token TWAIL scholar, the students may not be exposed to learned experiences, unless a professor with the rare interest in critical international law comes along and ‘allows’ such intervention by a guest lecturer.

Against the Deafening Silence in Classrooms: From the Beginning to the End

Mainstream international law and international legal institutions are arguably positivist, with sovereignty and consent as the concepts sitting comfortably at their core. For a legal system entirely dependent on States allowing their governance to be influenced and altered, we do not sufficiently reflect upon what is morally vital for informed consent when previously colonised nations barter away elements of sovereignty to secure a seat at the table. This soporific slant continues in the teaching. Widely, at an introductory level, the origins of international law are taught as genial and peaceable. The Preamble of the United Nations acts as one such linguistic device for hope, attempting to embody the idealistic imagery, ‘we will save the children from bearing witness to the wars that led us here’. Another perhaps is in the very title of ancestral documents of international law – ‘Peace of Westphalia’. I don’t argue against acknowledging the well-intentioned wording of international legal sources,  but the regime should be taught as both – a tool of emancipation and also one of exploitation. A teacher must truthfully acknowledge how international law is a system of ongoing compromises, of finding a common political denominator, of being agreeable. These are the harsh realities of a system that needs the big, bad wolves  to allow it to deliver on its promises of peacemaking.

As you may have already realized, I argue that we should be teaching the problematic origins of international law and continued practice from the get-go. Why wait for a student to choose to specialise in it before we expose them to the combative and neo-colonial tendencies? I have met tenured academics who are unable to sufficiently differentiate between postcolonial and decolonial theory. These realms of theory must be discussed in classrooms, but it is the latter that we choose to ignore, to avoid the uncomfortable conversation of continuing Eurocentrism. With the former, we can introduce a new generation of students to the laws that whitewashed colonial violence to ‘create’ international law, á la Westlake and Vitoria.

Decolonial theory, although very closely linked, is about uncoupling from the imposed modernity, and rebuilding without aping the structural hierarchies of privilege from the colonial era. Personally, I would prefer we focus on decolonial and neo-colonial theory. ‘Post-colonial’ implies that now-independent nations no longer have to navigate the ongoing effects of colonial horrors to the extent they do. The forced universalisation of certain human rights, military invasions in the name of humanitarian intervention, imposing economic sanctions in the face of multinational corporate infrastructure – elements that are rarely, if ever, discussed when teaching the historical and ongoing neo-imperialism in international law. In this breath, then, post-colonial theory can be taught by almost anyone who does the necessary reading, but decolonial and neo-colonial theories deserve scholars with lived experience of colonial impact. Völkerrechtsblog has played host to exceptional discussions on theorizing international law beyond ‘unmasking’ its origins, and instead, furthering the possibilities of alternative structures to the regime. It has been rewarding to introduce my students to the intersectional perspectives of international law, to encourage them to push the envelope and (scientifically) question the regime they have grown up in. It is almost comical, explaining how passport privilege impacts my career as a legal scholar. It is an opportunity to open their eyes when discussing how I grew up witnessing climate colonialism, and how climate-friendly Western regulations have very different legal implications for countries in the Southern hemisphere. I can summarise this best with one simple sentence, teaching the problematic histories of international law is not a burden I bear, it is not something I have to do to be an ally, to embody inclusivity. It is my reality, it is my pleasure, it is an honour.

Here and There? Then and When? Locating the Pedagogy of International Law

I return now, to teaching international law from a TWAIL perspective. Let us linger a bit with this abbreviation: Third World Approach to International Law. Third World. As a pedagogical approach, there are a number of movements and theories that inform the perspectives scholars adopt when teaching critical international law. Critical race theory, anti-capitalism, postcolonialism, neo-colonialism, decolonialism, legal feminism. The gatekeepers of international legal education have rather neatly used geography to separate TWAIL as an ideology, of belonging to a different sphere altogether. And as TWAIL scholars have articulated earlier, European international law can never be anti-colonial. We must subvert the very content that is taught. The bigger picture calls to infuse critical inquiry attitudes into our students, to challenge the system that continues to impose its own ideals on historically oppressed communities. This also includes the growing body of research that is SWAIL – the Second World Approach to International Law – which discusses Eastern European influence and the political and legal impact.

Let’s envision lecture theatres as a microcosm of future international legal research and practice. Who amongst us, teaching or practising public international law, does not feel a sense of impending academic gloom in the face of an ongoing genocide? We have read, argued, broken down, analysed and then over analysed the very definitions that were meant to serve as a call of action. We have sat in cold, grey classrooms for hours to grasp why conventions were drafted the way they were, and now, have to explain to a whole new generation, why the peacemaking organisations seem to be failing entire nations. There is no better time to adequately explain how the violent histories of international law perpetuate its failure today.

To this end, I will continue to teach Bentham, but I will simultaneously teach Bhupinder Chimni immediately after, because I refuse to perpetuate the inequalities I experienced when I first studied public international law. All education need not be anecdotal, but perhaps reading Makau Mutua, Vasuki Nesiah, Dianne Otto, Ratna Kapur, James Gathii, Ntina Tzouvala, Sundhya Pahuja (to name a few) can disrupt the ideologies that are perpetuated in Western law schools. I may not seek to radicalise my students, but as a woman of colour myself, I must awaken them from the false narrative of progress and modernity that traditional international law courses echo. TWAIL is no enigma. There is no reason for the epistemological mystification of critical international law, and even fewer reasons for teaching cohorts to have only one (two, if we’re feeling generous) scholars who can realistically understand why Chagos Islands’ sovereignty was not UK’s to ‘give’ to Mauritius in the first place, and why, beyond procedure, the continued control over Diego Garcia is problematic in itself.

Racial and ethnic identities are not just for a Diversity Equity and Inclusion (DEI) interviewee and Western recruiter to gently navigate around in their tête-à-tête. To be frank, I’d rather answer the dull ‘but where are you really from?’question than having to swallow my anti-colonial pedagogy to present myself as genial. Mohsen Al Attar said it best, it’s ‘hard work reconciling (…) with a discipline (…) that genuflects before the status quo’. Our team at Völkerrechtsblog has made significantly larger strides in representing the globalised participants of international legal scholarship, when compared to funded universities with campuses and tuition-paying students (I’d recommend going to a search engine of your choice and baulk at how much international students pay for an identical course versus a local student). Perhaps that is one of many reasons I find comfort in writing this stream of consciousness piece. Perhaps that is the freedom of being a space that fosters subversive discussion, beyond the business of institutional education. To wit, I welcome the sarcasm in my classroom. Maybe Pink Floyd could write us a new song, on diversifying international legal scholarship. In the meantime, Völkerrechtsblog continues to cultivate dedicated spaces for inclusive academia, and alongside our team, we actively build on international law as a regime greater than its Western genesis.