In my Politics of Human Rights class, we have been reading some of Foucault's lectures on knowledge and power. One of the main foci of Foucault's thoughts is what he calls subjugated knowledge, a concept that encapsulates a couple of different facets. First of all, subjugated knowledge refers to historical contents that have been buried or masked by the formal systemization of thought [or in other words, the information that didn't make it into the "textbook" version]. Additionally, subjugated knowledge includes low-ranking knowledge from less privileged sources—not necessarily common information, but that which has been considered inadequate for various reasons.
This subjugated knowledge is like another layer of knowledge, below what usually gets seen and heard and taught. It differs from the "official" version of history, because it comes from sources that do not have the power to determine what makes up the dominant narrative. This, however, is exactly what makes it important to carefully consider. In explaining the value of subjugated knowledge, Foucault highlights the way that it primarily reveals a history of struggles. Paying attention to the "story behind the story" often brings to light the political complexities, moral qualms, questionable motives, and general ugliness that the official version glosses over (or simply leaves out).
Allow me to offer an example that I think most of you can relate to: the founding of America and the celebration of Thanksgiving. Let's think back for a minute to the story we learned in elementary school--you know, the one with the peacefully interacting pilgrims and Native Americans and the paper turkey hats. Most of us were told something along the lines of persecuted Europeans coming to America to find freedom and build a country of equality and opportunity for all, then celebrating this with the native people in a harmonious, collaborative feast. This is the "official" version, or perhaps the more palatable one.
However, the knowledge that has been subjugated in this example is not so pretty. When we look at sources from Native Americans (who clearly do not hold a position of power or privilege), we hear a very different story. Their version is marked by profound pain and almost unfathomable oppression. The founding of America for them meant being stripped of their land and killed en masse, continually exiled and suffering until this day. What is found in this subjugated knowledge is a history of struggle. Paying attention to this matters deeply because of what happened then, but also because of the lasting maltreatment occurring now.
This same framework can be applied to hundreds of examples, but I want to think about it now in relation to the context of Israel and Palestine. My intention at the moment is not to get into the historical/political details of it all, but simply to begin asking the right kind of questions. In my experience, it seems like most people have a general idea that there are different versions of this story depending on the side you are listening to. The main problem I have witnessed, however, is that one side is being listened to far more than the other, often without the listeners being aware of this imbalance. This can largely be explained by the power dynamic at play, considering that those in power also have power over knowledge [what the news reports, how the history books read--basically which story is told]. And in this situation, no one can dispute that Israel and America (as Israel's closest ally) are in obvious positions of power over Palestine.
I am not suggesting that we should automatically consider everything that the powerful say to be a lie, but I am firmly asserting that we need to listen more closely to the voices of those that are pushed down, the ones that hold the subjugated knowledge, if you will. We must put in the extra effort it takes to look for this version of the story, in order to more accurately understand the history of struggles that searches like this almost always reveal. This is what I hope to do during my time here in Palestine, and what I invite all of you to process through as well.
Now, because you stuck with me through such a serious post, here is a pretty picture that I took last week on the way home from school (the day before the snow storm, I might add):
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