We are delighted to present the sixth book in the Studies in Social Harm series. The series seeks to contribute to the emerging field of zemiology – a cutting edge approach within the social sciences prioritizing the investigation of the serious harms that take place in society. Individually, and collectively, the books expose how some of the most damaging harms are not necessarily those which are illegal; very often they escape sanction or even moral opprobrium. Too often they are ‘normalized’, seen as part and parcel of the natural fabric or functioning of society that cannot be disturbed or interfered with. Yet, as each of our contributors has uncovered, harms occur not because of individual wickedness or aberrant behaviour but due to the very way societies are organized. As Pemberton (2015) explains in his eloquent exposition of different capitalist formations and their relation to the production of specific harms – structural harms result from avoidable and alterable social arrangements, and are ultimately preventable events.

To understand the full panoply of harms that occur in society Studies in Social Harm has encouraged authors from varied disciplinary foci, premised on the idea that we must embrace different disciplines and unify them towards this common goal. Evgenia Iliadou's book Border Harms and Everyday Violence is an excellent illustration of this endeavour. Bringing together scholarship from migration studies, zemiology and social anthropology, Iliadou's book provides a unique investigation of the unfolding European ‘refugee crisis’ from 2015 onwards using Lesvos as a case study. In 2015 Lesvos was thrust into the international spotlight becoming both ‘the epicentre and allegory of the one the worst forced displacements in history’. For Iliadou, this ‘crisis’ was far from sudden, isolated or even exceptional.

Iliadou provides a fascinating interrogation of border harms and violence on the island, exposing the normalization and routinization of everyday practices of human degradation. By exploring the situation of Lesvos – an island in the Eastern Aegean promoted as a beautiful and scenic travel destination for discerning travellers – Iliadou exposes its janus-faced nature by linking contemporary border harms to a much longer genealogy of border violence towards people migrating to the region.

Despite the political visibility and media attention that the Moria hotspot has attracted as the infamous ‘refugee camp’ for thousands of border crossers, until its formal ‘death’, it was in reality an open site for some, an overnight residence for some others and a closed detention for only a few. Apart from the detainees, including the unaccompanied minors, who were not allowed to move outside the premises of the Moria hotspot, all the rest were authorized to move within Lesvos and outside the Moria hotspot using an official document produced by the Greek authorities. In their everyday encounters with the state, the official document was commonly referred to by border crossers, volunteers and practitioners as the ‘Mytilene paper’. The Mytilene paper was used alongside other official legal documents and technically played the role of identity card or passport, but without allowing its holders to cross borders and travel to the Greek mainland or elsewhere. It was not recognized as an official document outside of the island. It was also an indicator of residency restrictions, showing whether border crossers were obliged to stay overnight in the Moria hotspot, Kara Tepe camp or other formal site or accommodation. Although almost all border crossers obtained the Mytilene paper and had the right to freely move within the prison island, they were repeatedly stopped, controlled, arrested and intimidated. In 2021 the Mytilene paper, being associated with the Moria hotspot, faded away along with the hotspot itself. After the destruction of the Moria camp and the establishment of Moria 2.0, the Mytilene paper was replaced with another informal document – a registration card – that regulated border crossers’ autonomy of movement in/outside the camp. As Omid, an Afghan living in Moria 2.0, told me: “People are allowed to leave the camp only for three hours per week or when there is an emergency – for example, appointments with doctors or to see a lawyer. Their going out depends on the last three digits of their registration card.” However, even in this case, border crossers who were allowed to get out of the Moria 2.0 camp were frequently stopped and searched by police and many times were forced to return back to the camp.

From 2015 onwards, the debates and dominant narratives about the 2015 ‘refugee crisis’ put forward by multiple intervening actors and policy makers (at EU, national and local levels) and in the media have been ahistorical misconceptions, as they have routinely represented the refugee situation, human suffering and border violence in the Greek region as new, unforeseen, isolated events or tragic accidents – that is, as ‘crises’ – and, thus, not consistent with existing patterns (Freek and Lindblad, 2002). These misconceptions have tended to obscure deep historical roots – the genealogy of border violence in Greece and its continuum in the present – as they see the refugee issue, border violence, suffering and border deaths in mainland Greece and on Lesvos as starting explicitly in 2015. Indeed, when I interviewed various professionals who had come from various parts of the world to settle on Lesvos, most of them told me that they had been there only since the beginning of the refugee crisis – that is, since 2015. Most of the intervening actors I interviewed were not aware of the migration, refugee and detention history of the Greek region as a whole and the island in particular. Similarly, in the academic literature, the debate on the refugee crisis is to a great extent ahistorical as it too focuses on the refugee issue in the period from 2015. However, there are some more recent works that have historicized the refugee crisis and border violence in Greece (Cabot, 2019; Iliadou, 2019a, 2021c; Karamanidou and Kasparek, 2022). Equally, debates on the ‘deterring-killing’ (see Iliadou, 2021b, 2021c) policies and practices, such as pushback operations, and the criminalization of solidarity in the region, despite their deep historical roots, have either been ignored by the various actors or misrepresented as new or random events.

These misconceptions tend to imply that before 2015 the refugee situation in the region – the detention and asylum system as well as the reception and living conditions – was good. However, Lesvos, and Greece more broadly, have a long history of forced displacement, border violence and control. People in this area have memories of forced displacements, border crossings, postcolonial violence, and trauma since the beginning of the 20th century. Due to the Greco–Turkish War of 1919–22, approximately one million Asia Minor refugees were forcibly displaced from Turkey to Greece and other neighbouring countries (Hernadez, 2016).

In the aftermath of the 2015 ‘refugee crisis’, Greece, and Lesvos especially, have attracted much attention due to the escalation of border violence and the infliction of social harm and suffering against forcibly displaced people. Since 2015, there has been a growing body of literature focusing on physical violence, pushback operations and left-to-die practices, which routinely take place at the Aegean Sea – the liquid border between Greece and Turkey. At the same time, activist work/research at the borders and the testimonies of border crossers themselves have unearthed a plethora of human rights abuses, torture and other violent acts of omission and commission by state officials, which either inflict death or increase the risk of death. This literature is significant as it highlights the way physical violence and deaths at the borders are operationalized in everyday migration governance by becoming the norm (see Chapter 6). However, despite the hypervisibility of border violence while people are en route, less attention has been given to the routinization and normalization of the necropolitical violence as a modus operandi of migration governance. Necropolitical violence routinely and silently unfolds within and beyond the borders. It creeps into detention centres, refugee camps, hotspots and even whole islands by intentionally inflicting severe physical or mental pain or suffering, violating human dignity and, therefore, implicitly killing/torturing those who traverse the EU borders without authorization.

The chapter explores the human consequences of the ‘necropolitical’ (Mbembe, 2003) border regime upon the lives which are apprehended ‘unliveable’ (Butler, 2004). It focuses on the manifold abandonments (leftto-die practices) of border crossers, inside and beyond the refugee camp, in appalling conditions that not only are tantamount to torture or cruel, inhuman and degrading treatment, but also inflict, normalize and naturalize disposability, humiliation, social death and suffering. This chapter builds on Achille Mbembe's (2003) work on necropolitics to explore the governance of migration through abandonment to death. The paper does not intend to bring a contribution to the theory of necropolitics as such rather it builds on and is situated in critical migration and border studies literature to understand the production of humiliation and degradation, racialized social death and disposability as a modus operandi of migration governance (Cacho, 2012; Davies et al, 2017; Mayblin et al, 2019; Gordon and Larsen, 2021).

The migration and refugee history of mainland Greece and the island of Lesvos is bound to genealogies and legacies of postcolonial violence, forced displacement and social suffering perpetuating across the mists of time (Figure 2.1). One of the darkest pages in the history of forced displacement in the region is the Greek genocide (1914–23), which was a systematic extermination of Greek populations living in the Ottoman Empire before, during and after World War I. Due to the national ethnic cleansing operations launched by the Young Turks (nationalists), all Christian populations (Armenians, Assyrians, Pontians and other Anatolian Greeks) were forced to leave to escape genocide, massacre and violence (Pontian Greek Society of Chicago ‘Xeniteas’, 2006). The Pontian Greek Society of Chicago ‘Xeniteas’ (2006) offers a few estimates of the deaths that occurred:

Many Pontiacs were forcibly deported to inner Asia Minor, Kurdistan and Syria while many women and girls were systematically raped by the armed escorts that were supposed to protect them (Pontian Greek Society of Chicago ‘Xeniteas’, 2006). The genocide launched by the Ottoman Turkish state against the Armenian and Pontiac Greek populations remains today denied. This denial inflicts genocidal trauma that continues to be felt across generations through – a process known as ‘intergenerational transmission of violent memory’ (White, 2017, p 22). One of the major consequences of World War I, the Greco–Turkish War of 1919–22 (Salvanou, 2017), produced approximately 1.5 million Anatolian Greek refugees, who fled to Greece and other countries neighbouring with Turkey. After the compulsory exchange of populations, a provision of the Treaty of Lausanne 1923, approximately 1.2 million refugees were settled in Greece (Green, 2010; Hirschon, 2014).

According to social anthropologist Renee Hirschon, ‘[b] ecause of its proximity to the mainland, the island of Lesvos directly experienced the challenge of receiving vast numbers of displaced persons’ (2007, p 171).

Introduction

A social construct is always created at the centre of any communication framework. Science communication is no different in this regard, despite its goals and the evidence-based scientific facts it presents. Like any other kind of communication, science communicators inevitably create a frame and pursue an agenda. The creation of a frame falls within the realm of normative action and normativity. In our dictionaries such as Merriam-Webster we can read that normal is defined as conforming to a pre-existing standard, ‘a type, standard, or regular pattern: characterised by that which is considered usual, typical, or routine’ (Merriam-Webster, 2021). The general understanding is that the norm is the usual or common, while normal is opposed to abnormal. In contrast to these two terms, normative refers to a morally approved ideal, or ‘what ought to be’ from an ethical point of view.

From a philosophical perspective, normative ethics analyse how people should act, while descriptive ethics analyse what people think is right. The problems of science communication do not lie in descriptive ethics: there is a clear consensus on the ethical problem of Eurocentric hegemony and its consequences. Science communicators are well aware of normative aspects as long as they are related to the disciplines they communicate about. These understandings beg the following questions: what role does our own normative frame play when it comes to decolonising our field? If it does have a role, then why is it poorly addressed? Does science communication have a blind spot when it comes to its own normality, norms, and normativity? This chapter seeks to explore some possible reasons for this blind spot in science communication in relation to the normative ethics of decolonisation. If these epistemic norms are grounded in the colonial purpose of domination and hegemony, demonstrating and elaborating some of their impact on non-Western populations could help identify the problematic influence of unchallenged norms.

Postcolonial literature has defined the causes of this historically unchallenged state of normativity in the Western world. In this chapter, practical case studies from the scholarly communication of museums, and other areas of communication such as popular culture within the same framing analysis, will illustrate how systematic and widespread the problem is. The work of Gloria Wekker (2016) will be used to demonstrate how unquestioned colonial norms have created a sense of innocence that limits the possibilities of challenging said norms.

Can we create meaning and dignity by reconceptualising work in a postindustrial economy? Will we passively allow new technologies to erode equality? Or do we have the courage to use the dividends of progress to deliver social justice?

Flora Gill tackles these questions and many more in this groundbreaking work which builds upon three decades of research and teaching at the University of Sydney, and brings together three core themes of her scholarship: the economics of work, social justice, and heterodox economic theory.

Through engaging prose and well-researched analysis, this book offers a thought-provoking examination of the role of work in shaping the lives of individuals and communities, and the ways in which social justice can be achieved through meaningful and dignified work.

The fundamental premise of Flora's approach is that economics cannot inform social policy and social justice concerns meaningfully by going it alone. Rather, it should include analysis from multiple fields and move away from solely using financial metrics. By drawing on her extensive knowledge and experience, Flora provides a sound intellectual framework for those who wish to argue for social justice, and it is her hope that this book will have a lasting impact on the field.

As one of Flora's former students, I can attest to her exceptional talent as a teacher and her passion for her subject which inspired me and countless others to pursue our own careers in the field. Flora's thoughtful research and her dedication to her students has made her one of the most respected and influential voices in the field.

This book is a must-read for anyone interested in the future of work, the economy, and social justice. Whether you are a student, policy maker, or concerned citizen, you will come away with a deeper understanding of the challenges and opportunities facing our society as we work to create a more equitable and just world.

I am confident that Flora's innovative and insightful work will inspire a new generation of leaders and thinkers to take up the cause of work and social justice.”

I take it as a privilege accorded to the writer of a foreword to an edited collection to make a personal response, a privilege lightly claimed since the editors have in their opening and concluding chapters so fully drawn together and reflected on the individual chapters. Having started my social work career as a child care officer tasked with setting up ‘preventive services’ in the heady days of Section 1 of the 1963 Children and Young Persons Act, I greatly appreciated being welcomed into the Care Review Watch Alliance, a ‘loose collective of care experienced people, care professionals and academics’. With the MacAlister Review published but government intentions not yet known, some members of this collective, along with other fellow travellers, have taken the opportunity offered by this book to move beyond commentary and critique of the Review's processes and conclusions to address the risks of hasty implementation of some of its ill-thought-through recommendations, and to share hopes for the future.

Some readers will, like me, have been on a social media journey with the authors from even before the Review was announced. Though each chapter author is clear about the inequities and harms of the ‘care system’, and the need for considerably more resources as well as changes, when the government announced an ‘independent’ review of ‘the children's social care system’ we were not all at one about the scope of the review that was needed. Should the focus be on children in care and care leavers, or was the ‘care system’ to be taken to include the full range of child and family services as legislated for by the 1989 Act? I recall a Twitter exchange where I expressed concerns that this broad-based review, commissioned by a neoliberal-minded government, that had been seeking for some years to weaken rights to quality, publicly provided and accountable services, could result in harming the balance required by the 1989 Act. Then, as now, balance is essential between helping families within the community, intervening when protective services were needed, and providing good quality care for those whose needs could best be met by out-of-home care.

The writers of the chapters in this powerful book, as researchers, activists and advocates from across children's services, and from personal experience of the ‘care system’, came together in pointing to pitfalls as the shape of the Review emerged.

Introduction

Article 7 of the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights says that ‘All are equal before the law and are entitled without any discrimination to equal protection of the law’. All are entitled to equal protection against any discrimination in violation of this Declaration and against any incitement to such discrimination. But notwithstanding the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights, access to jobs and levels of pay still vary systematically with the race, ethnicity and gender of the individual. This is true throughout our planet, in both developing and developed countries. White heterosexual males receive higher pay and more privileged access to jobs well in excess of what could be explained by their levels of education and vocational qualifications. Non-white men, non-heterosexuals, disabled individuals and women of all colours are still waiting for the day when labour market discrimination is a thing of the past. Most acute has been the experience of First Nations people. Western imperialism has inflicted significant economic, social and cultural harms on the indigenous populations of Australia, the Americas and Africa.

In Australia, racial and gender pay discriminations were enshrined in law for nearly seven decades during the 20th century. Indigenous Australians were given equal statutory basic wage (read minimum wage) only in 1969. Other restrictions also applied. For instance, as Thornton and Luker’ study notes:

And all women, white or non-white, had to wait until 1975 before their statutory basic wage was raised to the level of the white male basic wage. With few exceptions (for example, university teaching) this was the case even when men and women had strictly the same job.

Women faced a long battle for pay equality throughout the West. After more than 100 years of focused activism and legislative efforts, equal pay legislation began gathering pace only during the last three decades of the 20th century.

The aim of this book is to make sense of reluctance in world politics and to explain its causes. In order to assess the explanatory power of my theorization of reluctance, I chose to focus on particularly ‘hard’ cases, in which we would generally not expect to see a reluctant behaviour in foreign policy: on states that are particularly powerful in their regions, and, more specifically, on how they address and manage regional crises. The underlying idea is that we would expect such countries to have an inherent interest in the stabilization of their respective regions, and therefore to engage in regional crisis management in a coherent and decisive manner. However, we actually observe variation: while Brazil was not reluctant in regional crisis management during the years of the first presidency of Lula da Silva, both India and Germany were reluctant regional crisis managers, even in periods of domestic political stability. The analyses in Chapters 4, 5 and 6 reveal that the explanations for the emergence of reluctance developed in Chapter 3 go a long way towards explaining the regional crisis management policies adopted by powerful states: in the cases analysed, reluctance emerged because of a combination of difficulties in preference formation (mostly driven by internal struggles and lack of coordination among different agencies and/or normative disagreements) and competing expectations by external actors.

But can the theory of reluctance developed in this book also be applied to other cases, actors or issue areas? In other words, does it have an explanatory power beyond the cases analysed in this book? This chapter addresses these questions by focusing on (1) different types of crisis; (2) different countries such as small states and great powers, with reluctance being particularly puzzling for the latter; and (3) different types of actors beyond the nationstate. Given space constraints, the following sections will necessarily be less detailed and rely more on secondary sources as compared to the in-depth case studies of the previous chapters. Overall, as we will see, the explanations for reluctance developed in this book are also helpful to make sense of reluctant policies in a broad range of different contexts.