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This introduction situates the rebellions in British Guiana within the larger context of unrest in the Caribbean during the 1930s. I also discuss the concepts of solidarity, overlapping diasporas, and modern politics to explore how this story fits into the broader historiography, and why the stakes of this project have implications both within and beyond the region.
During the mid-century wave of decolonization, the ecumenical movement sought to dissociate Christianity from its role – real and perceived – as a handmaiden of empire. At the same time, the WCC and IMC sought to anchor Christianity in the constitutions of postcolonial states, in order to secure the religious freedom of missionaries and Christian minorities, especially in majority-Muslim countries. Ecumenical advocacy thus sought to enshrine the international norm they had shaped in the Universal Declaration’s Article 18 in domestic law. After discussing the wider trajectory of the ecumenical movement in relation to empire, this chapter turns to two important cases: Indonesia and (Northern) Nigeria. In each case, the ecumenical movement successfully influenced the drafting of postcolonial constitutions, using the language of human rights to claim impartiality while enhancing Christianity’s position vis-à-vis Islam. In doing so, ecumenists drew on their ties to departing colonial powers, the influence of those missionaries and Christian minorities that remained, and postcolonial leaders’ desire to establish essentially secular states.
This introduction to Part II explains why the WCC shifted toward a “liberationist” human rights agenda in the late 1960s and 1970s. One key factor was Cold War détente, which opened up space for criticism of the Cold War deadlock and the superpower interventionism it supposedly justified. Another was decolonization, which contributed to a global reconfiguration of Christianity. These enabled the rise of the New Left, which favored grassroots activism over bureaucratic structures and projected hopes for political renewal onto the Third World. While often overlooked because of the simultaneous process of secularization, especially in Western Europe, religion played an important role in the ferment of the 1960s. Liberation theology, emanating above all from Latin America, inspired much of the WCC’s new agenda, which was defined by its overtly political positioning against liberalism and alignment with socialism and especially anti-imperialism. The WCC’s course contrasted with the liberal rights agenda of Amnesty, the statist agenda espoused by postcolonial leaders promoting a New International Economic Order, and the anticommunism of more conservative actors, like US evangelicals.
The Epilogue synthesizes the book’s central arguments and situates them within broader theoretical, political, and pedagogical debates on decolonizing higher education. It reaffirms the pursuit of anticolonial synergies as a shared horizon and emphasizes solidarity, responsibility, and critical relationality as essential to this work. Moving from critique to praxis, the Epilogue advances a futures-oriented roadmap organized around five interrelated trajectories: governance (including public accountability for reparative commitments); knowledge infrastructures (through non-extractive research ecosystems and equitable North–South collaborations); curriculum and pedagogy (shifting from additive inclusion to structural redesign and long-term community partnerships); material repair (linking epistemic change to land, budgets, divestment, and the commons); and institutional affect (challenging how decolonization unfolds within affective environments). The closing reflections frame decolonization not as a fixed endpoint, but as an ongoing project requiring sustained ethical, affective, political, material, and epistemic engagement within and beyond higher education.
This chapter critically analyzes the relevance of critical theory and critical pedagogy to decolonization, given their foundations in Eurocentric traditions. While some scholars critique critical theory for its failure to engage with colonial histories, others caution against conflating decolonization with broader social justice frameworks. This chapter argues that, despite tensions between critical theory and decolonial approaches, a theoretical synergy between the two offers valuable insights into education’s entanglements with coloniality, racism, and social injustice. Critical theory provides analytical tools for examining ideology, power, and capitalist structures, while decolonial thought foregrounds epistemic, affective, and material dimensions of colonialism. Through a synergistic approach, this chapter explores critical theory through a decolonial lens and vice versa, demonstrating how their intersection clarifies distinctions and reveals new possibilities for transformative educational practice. It is argued that this synergy fosters a more nuanced, politically engaged approach to decolonizing higher education while resisting essentialism and epistemic closures.
The Introduction situates the book’s contribution within broader anticolonial thought and praxis by articulating an intellectual and political framework of connectivity and anticolonial solidarity – one that neither collapses the differences between decolonization and other political projects nor loses sight of the importance of coalition-building across fields, approaches, and geographical regions. It positions decolonization and social justice within contemporary higher education and advances the case for anticolonial synergy as a shared intellectual and political project for making sense of the diverse practices, struggles, and lived experiences of resistance to colonialism and imperialism worldwide. It is argued that anticolonial synergies in higher education (and beyond) cannot be universalized, but must be carefully attuned to specific historical, political, and institutional conditions. The Introduction concludes by outlining the book structure and introducing the chapters, highlighting how each contributes to the book’s overarching commitment to context-sensitive and politically grounded anticolonial synergies in higher education.
This chapter critically interrogates the incommensurability thesis in contemporary debates on decolonization in higher education, showing how, despite its important political interventions, it can inadvertently generate new binaries – such as decolonization versus anti-racism, or land versus epistemology – that fracture possibilities for solidarity. The chapter advances a both/and approach that takes contextual specificity seriously: in settler-colonial contexts, land, sovereignty, and Indigenous self-determination remain irreducible, while in other sites decolonial struggle may center racial capitalism, language, labor, migration, or resource extraction. Rather than treating these orientations as mutually exclusive, the chapter theorizes conditions for anticolonial synergy, including relational accountability, non-substitution (refusing to collapse or displace Indigenous land claims), intersectional and historically grounded analysis, and coalitional politics built around shared campaigns such as alliances between Indigenous land struggles and abolitionist movements. The analysis supports the book’s proposal for a coalitional framework that bridges decolonial and social justice politics through anticolonial solidarity.
This chapter aims to rethink the contours of coalition-building in higher education by drawing on the insights of decolonial thinker María Lugones. It is argued that these insights help challenge monolithic conceptualizations of decolonization as the ‘decolonization of the curriculum’ or merely as ‘land return.’ The analysis advocates for a shift toward centering anticolonial intellectual and political efforts led by ‘other resisters’ in historically different settings as part of the broader struggle to dismantle various forms of coloniality. Within this framework, decolonization work and other social justice projects in higher education are not definitive endpoints but ongoing processes that demand continuous interrogation and transformation of how scholars, educators, and activists engage with and inhabit academia. This theorization suggests a radical reimagining of intellectual practices among those resisting coloniality in higher education, emphasizing the need to embrace the relational and dynamic essence of coalition-building, while paying attention to possible risks
This chapter draws on Frantz Fanon’s concept of the zone of nonbeing to argue for a deeper engagement with the lived experiences and ontological realities of colonized and racialized subjects in higher education. It applies Fanon’s insights to the affective and epistemic infrastructures of higher education institutions, examining how visibility, audibility, and legitimacy are unevenly distributed across academic spaces. The chapter contends that decolonization requires the development of new political concepts grounded in lived experience, historical struggle, and claims to dignity, rather than reliance on abstract theorization or essentialist identities. By resisting both reductive positionality and the reproduction of colonial logics through fixed categories, the chapter foregrounds anticolonial thought as a site of conceptual and political innovation. It argues that politically grounded conceptual work can revitalize decolonization efforts and open new horizons for higher education by reframing decolonization as an ontological and political project attuned to struggle, relation, and transformation.
This chapter examines Enrique Dussel’s liberation theology and pedagogical thought as a decolonial framework that unsettles rigid secularism and foregrounds the ethical, spiritual, and political dimensions of decolonization in higher education. Drawing on Dussel’s critique of Eurocentric political theology, the chapter reimagines decolonization as a praxis of solidarity grounded in the historical experiences and struggles of the oppressed, with significant implications for curriculum, pedagogy, and institutional ethos. Rather than treating decolonization as a singular or settled project, the chapter engages critically with the tensions, contradictions, and plural meanings that shape decolonial debates. In doing so, it demonstrates how attention to these tensions can deepen, rather than weaken, decolonial praxis. The analysis contributes to a more expansive and relational understanding of decolonization in higher education – one that resists narrow secular or technocratic framings and instead affirms the ethical and political responsibilities of universities in struggles for justice, dignity, and collective liberation.
This chapter critically examines Walter Mignolo’s influential framework of epistemic delinking from Western epistemologies. While Mignolo’s approach has inspired substantial decolonial scholarship in higher education, it is argued that his emphasis on breaking away from Western knowledge systems can inadvertently lend itself to ethno-essentialist and authoritarian co-option. The chapter discusses how epistemic decolonization’s narrow focus on dismantling Western knowledge hierarchies risks overlooking complex historical, material and political dimensions essential to anticolonial thought. By discussing examples of higher education from India, Russia, and elsewhere, the chapter warns against oversimplified rejections of liberal-Western knowledge and advocates for a more complex, politically grounded understanding of decoloniality that resists nationalist and exclusionary tendencies By highlighting these risks, this chapter highlights the importance of maintaining a nuanced, politically informed approach to decolonization in higher education that avoids essentialist assumptions and takes into consideration that potential pitfalls of some versions of decoloniality.
This chapter explores the implications of bringing Foucault’s analytic of power into dialogue with decolonial thought in the context of higher education. While decolonial scholars have long critiqued Foucault’s Eurocentrism, Santiago Castro-Gómez’s engagement with Foucauldian heterarchy, which emphasizes dispersed, relational forms of power, enables a productive pathway for rethinking the layered nature of coloniality. Building on this approach, the chapter argues that conceptualizing decolonization in higher education as a multidimensional struggle – spanning macrostructural domination, meso-institutional dynamics, and microphysical, embodied relations – offers a more nuanced and generative framework for analysis and action. This analysis adds to the insights of other Latin American and Indigenous scholars, who emphasize situated, collective, and affective practices of resistance against coloniality. The chapter thus contributes to a relational understanding of decolonization, one that bridges epistemic critique, institutional transformation, and solidarity with grassroots anticolonial movements within and beyond higher education institutions.
This chapter explores how Amílcar Cabral’s anticolonial thought enriches contemporary debates on decolonization in higher education, particularly the often-polarized tensions between epistemic and land-based approaches. Drawing on Cabral’s ethics of caring for the soil, the chapter advances a synergistic framework that connects struggles over knowledge, culture, and education with material, environmental, and political resistance to colonial domination. Cabral’s attention to the intimate relations between people, land, and historical struggle offers a way to move beyond false oppositions between epistemic transformation and the repatriation of land to Indigenous peoples. Instead, the chapter demonstrates how these dimensions are mutually constitutive and must be pursued together. By foregrounding human-soil relations as both a material and symbolic site of anticolonial struggle, the chapter provides theoretical, political, and practical insights for higher education institutions seeking decolonial pathways that remain accountable to land, history, and collective liberation while sustaining commitments to epistemic justice and material transformation.
This chapter critiques the risks posed by performative proclamations of positionality and identity in contemporary decolonization debates, particularly when such declarations become substitutes for ethical or political engagement. Drawing on the concepts of dis-enclosure and being-in-common – central to the work of French philosopher Jean-Luc Nancy and further developed by Cameroonian philosopher Achille Mbembe – the chapter advances a non-identitarian ontology of decolonization. This framework challenges the binary logics that often structure identitarian thinking (e.g., Western/non-Western, white/non-white), within which positionality statements can become morally stabilizing rather than politically transformative. The chapter argues instead for a conception of decolonization grounded in shared ethical responsibility and collective commitments to reparative futures, rather than individualized claims to moral authority or innocence. In doing so, it offers critical resources for rethinking the role of scholars in higher education, emphasizing how research, writing, and teaching can foreground relational accountability and a shared responsibility for building reparative futures.
This article uses the Kenya Office in Cairo (KOC) to explore the intersections and tensions between territorial nationalism and supranational networks of anticolonial patronage during a brief window in the broader era of decolonization. It argues that the principal staffers of the KOC were in many ways marginal figures in Kenyan nationalist politics, but were able to build a degree of political capital and stature due to their proximity to external patrons in a period when more established nationalist figures were restricted to the physical space of colonial Kenya. The article then analyzes a factional schism within the KOC to highlight how nationalist outposts and exilic activists became imbricated in competition between political rivals and visions operating at multiple geographic and ideological scales. That the figures involved in the KOC and its post-schism rival would be sidelined by the official infrastructures of Kenyan nationalism and anticolonial internationalism and the “Big Men” who came to control them shows, first, that mobility is not always the most productive framework for apprehending these histories and, second, that proximity to internal and external patrons and the clout that accompanies this proximity were contingent and could both make and break political capital.
This article argues that there is no fully non-Eurocentric standpoint available after colonialism. The Western symbolic order – institutional, epistemic, juridical, and political-economic – has become globally hegemonic, structuring not only liberal international institutions but also the grammar of their critique. Postcolonial and decolonial scholarship has powerfully exposed the violence of Eurocentrism, yet the desire for an uncontaminated ‘outside’ risks reproducing the very logic it opposes. Drawing on Lacanian psychoanalysis, I argue that the fantasy of epistemic purity functions as an inverted mirror of colonial universality. The problem is not merely ideological error but also libidinal investment in wholeness, authenticity, and moral innocence. Engaging debates in International Relations theory on hegemony, sovereignty, and global order, the article contends that Eurocentrism persists not only discursively but through the political economy of global capitalism and international law. Decolonization, therefore, cannot mean epistemic exit; it must instead involve traversing ambivalence, contradiction, and complicity from within a shared symbolic terrain.
This article examines Ibn Khaldûn not as a stable, timeless precursor of modern social science but as a figure constituted through colonial translation and reception. Focusing on nineteenth- and twentieth-century French and English translations of the Muqaddimah, it argues that Ibn Khaldûn emerged in modern scholarship as a colonial archive—a site where translation, race, and epistemic authority intersected to produce new forms of historical and sociological knowledge. Through close comparison of Arabic originals and their European translations, the article shows how colonial epistemologies reconfigured Ibn Khaldûn’s analytical categories—particularly those concerning tribe, generation, civilization, and climate—into racialized frameworks foreign to his medieval context. It further demonstrates how this translated Ibn Khaldûn became selectively relevant to European social science while remaining excluded from its canonical genealogies. Finally, the article critically reassesses the enduring claim that Ibn Khaldûn articulated racist views about Black populations, showing that this attribution itself belongs to the colonial archive generated through translation rather than to the epistemic logic of the original text. The article thus contributes to comparative histories of knowledge, colonial epistemology, and the global formation of the social sciences.
Business and human rights class litigation in South Africa has increased over the last ten years. Through the analysis of Various Parties on behalf of Minors v Anglo American South Africa Limited (2020/32777) (2023) ZAGPJHC 1474 (Kabwe) and silicosis class action litigation, the author examines how the South African judiciary has contributed to the advancement of business and human rights objectives. The piece traverses the purposive statutory interpretation approach of the court and incremental development of class action certifications to contribute to this outcome. It is argued that the rejection of the opt-out class participation mechanism for a wholly foreign class in Kabwe represents a missed opportunity to further transnational corporate accountability in certification applications by using key tenets of Ubuntu and decolonization. Such an interpretation would have offered a compelling pathway for localizing the United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGPs) in the African context.
The Right to Communicate (RtC) is the idea that individuals possess not only the freedom to ‘seek, receive and impart information’, as laid down in Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), but also the right to communicate horizontally with their peers, using technologies new and old. The brainchild of Jean d’Arcy, a French broadcaster and official who argued in 1969 that Article 19 should be updated to reflect the new technological possibilities, the concept inspired an international effort to write the RtC into human rights law. This article examines the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization’s (UNESCO) campaign to define this new human right, showing how initial enthusiasm was undermined by a widespread conviction that collective rights were a threat to individual rights; the difficulty of squaring the Global South’s state-led vision of communication with d’Arcy’s anti-statist ideals; and the vocal opposition of Western governments and NGOs, who increasingly saw the concept as a threat to freedom of information.
Mário Pinto de Andrade is best known as the primary editor and anthologizer of Lusophone Negritude poetry in the 1950s and 1960s. However, Andrade also theorized how the armed struggle for independence and the ongoing process of decolonization transformed culture. This lesser-known archive of Andrade’s writings on cultural production from the late 1960s to 1980s is key to understanding his role as an architect of Lusophone African culture. This article traces his contributions to systematizing African literature in Portuguese produced during and after decolonization. It argues that Andrade understood political and cultural decolonization as two aspects of the same process.