Astronomy, and science in general, is not usually related to sociological or cultural issues. We do not want to return to the bad old days of astronomers, and the wider scientific community, having to justify their research subjects to political commissars or party functionaries. However, even in astronomy, the sociopolitical is never far away.

Mia de los Reyes, assistant professor of astronomy at Amherst College, has written a powerful article making the case that the Magellanic Clouds – galaxies visible from the southern hemisphere – should be renamed. The Large and Small Magellanic Clouds – known to indigenous peoples – are named after Portuguese sailor and conquered, Ferdinand Magellan (1480 – 1521).

The Magellanic Clouds – satellite galaxies of the Milky Way – were observed and known to Polynesian peoples, Australia’s indigenous nations, and the indigenous people of Chile and Argentina. For instance, the Mapuche nation of Chile observed and named the Magellanic Clouds in their oral histories. Likening them to ponds of water, the Mapuche incorporated these astronomical features into their origin stories.

The Kamilaroi nation, indigenous to Australia, observed and recorded their findings of the Magellanic Clouds in their ‘Dreamtime’ stories. The word ‘Dreamtime’ is placed between quotation marks, not out of any disrespect, but because the word though widely used, is not accurate. The indigenous cosmology stories and oral traditions regarding their origins have been inaccurately translated as ‘Dreamtime’. Prior to Ancient Greece and Persia, the indigenous nations were developing their own astronomical knowledge, and used the stars to navigate their journeys – a kind of early GPS.

Arabic and Persian astronomers were well aware of the Magellanic Clouds. Astronomy is not a new subject in the Arab-Islamic worlds, but a deep and extensive discipline. Abd al-Rahman al-Sufi, (903 – 986), named the Magellanic Clouds Al-Bakr, in his extensive accounts of astronomical observations.

Each nation named the celestial objects themselves, and so the Portuguese navigator was definitely not the first to have observed the clouds named after him. Magellan was not an astronomer, and made no important contributions to the field. However, he is known for his main activities – killing, enslaving and plundering the indigenous peoples he encountered when circumnavigating the globe.

In Guam, the Philippines and other nations, Magellan is remembered as a coloniser and conquistador who employed horrific violence for greedy, imperial ambitions. The Telhueche people, in modern day Argentina, were enslaved by Magellan, with the youngest and fittest manacled – they were told the manacles were gifts. Abducted and forced to work, thousands of Telhueche people died.

In the Philippines, where Magellan burned villages and killed indigenous inhabitants, his death in 1521 was celebrated as an act of defiance in 2021, on the 500th anniversary of his demise. The Philippine government held a series of events highlighting the indigenous contribution to Magellan’s much-celebrated circumnavigation of the globe.

Where does this process stop? Being woke is all well and good for our times, but surely historical figures are all tainted in some way. If we rename every monument, public place, building, statue, scientific observatory – we will end up driving ourselves insane. William Shakespeare, the Bard, wrote an antisemitic play. Should we ban his works, and rename public buildings honouring him? Where does this stop?

The general point is not in dispute; if we critically examine each and every work of art, literature, scientific endeavour throughout human history, we will have nothing that measures up to our modern standards. When we honour a person by naming a scientific object after them, we are elevating that person’s values and conduct. Magellan’s name is used for a lunar crater, an operational 6.5m pair of optical telescopes in Chile, and an upcoming giant telescope.

When we uphold Magellan as an honourable person worthy of our respect, we are ignoring the terrible pain and suffering he inflicted on indigenous peoples. In fact, we are performing a disservice to astronomy by dismissing or downplaying the indigenous nations’ knowledge of astronomy by elevating Magellan into a heroic figure.

Am I suggesting that every discovery and invention by white European men should be discarded? No, I am not. Should each telescope, currently pointing at the heavens, be smashed to pieces as outrageous devices of scurrilous Western imperialism because they are based on the original design of Galileo? No, of course not. Should we replace modern university courses on cosmology with the Maori ways of knowing? No, I am not.

We need to approach the history of science with a perspective of cultural pluralism. That does not make everybody right about everything, it simply means that indigenous nations, and nonwhite peoples generally, have their scientific achievements accorded respect.

No, renaming the Magellanic Clouds is not the highest priority of the political authorities. It is not the primary topic of conversation at parties. Renaming these galaxies will not solve the myriad economic and social problems of our capitalist system. Actually, while we are on the subject of economic problems, there is a serious issue in the astronomy community which requires urgent economic attention – the collapse of the Arecibo radio telescope in Puerto Rico.

Denied upgrades and underfunded for decades, astronomers and engineers warned that the predictable consequence of such systematic neglect would be the collapse of the telescope. That is precisely what happened in December 2020. So economic decisions do have an impact on the kind of science we practice. The Union of Concerned Scientists is demanding an urgent rebuild of the radio telescope.

By removing the name of a man who brought so much harm and suffering to his fellow human beings, we can begin a process of healing. Only then would the cosmos truly be said to belong to all of humanity.

Leo Tolstoy (1828 – 1910) did much more than just write the mammoth historical epic, War and Peace. Literature involves more than just reading huge and unwieldy tomes that sit gathering dust in the Classics section. Those works we regard as Classics are important, to be sure. Please read War and Peace, if that is your wish. However, literature helps us define our understanding of ourselves. Whom we admire as the ‘great authors’ can teach us about power relations – and how we view the world – in contemporary times.

Why start with Leo Tolstoy? Because he was not only a great novelist and writer, but an intelligent social commentator. Born into a wealthy family and serving as an officer in the Crimean War, Tolstoy articulated a critique of the Russian state and Orthodox Christianity. Retaining respect for the original message of compassion and empathy contained in the sayings of Jesus, he nevertheless rejected supernatural deities, attacking the theology of the Church as crafty superstitions. He remarked that there is no afterlife, and the biblical account of miracles is fictional.

His wide ranging criticisms of the Imperial Russian state and organised religion did not stop there. He stridently defended the Boxer Rebellion in China. That rebellion (1900-01) was a widespread and tumultuous uprising – a modern jacquerie – by the Chinese peasantry against the foreign encroachments and creeping annexation of Chinese territory. Tsarist Russia, one of multiple nations with economic interests in China, sent troops as part of a counter insurgency intervention to suppress that rebellion.

Tolstoy, a former Russian army officer, noted that the Chinese, having suffered decades of violent foreign occupation, responded with peaceful means in the first place. Seeing their magnanimous actions suppressed with horrendous violence by the occupying powers (Britain, France, the US, among others), the Chinese resorted to violent methods as a last resort. Supporting anti-imperialist movements in Asia, Tolstoy reached out to Mahatma Gandhi, lending his voice to the Indian campaign against British colonialism.

Why am I raising this subject? For two main reasons. Firstly, the Russian embassy in Australia, in line with Kremlin policies and objectives, is encouraging the building of statues and busts of Alexander Pushkin, arguably the greatest of the Russian playwrights and authors. Now, there is nothing wrong with promoting Pushkin – reading his works is very commendable. However, the campaign to raise awareness of Pushkin is more than just a literary exercise.

The Moscow government is attempting to weaponise Alexander Pushkin, mobilising Russian nationalist sentiment among the expatriate community. To be sure, all embassies engage in similar activities. Let’s face it, the reason that William Shakespeare, as brilliant as he was, has become the unrivalled bard (bardology) of the English-speaking world is not an altruistic concern for literature, but a deliberate effort by the British empire to solidify cultural ties to the English homeland.

The British empire, in its zeal to strengthen its transnational project of imperial expansion, relied on cultural ties as much as brute force to unite its disparate colonies. However, there is a second reason for discussing this subject. Ta-Nehisi Coates, African American writer and commentator, was answering a question that Saul Bellow raised back in the 1980s – ‘who is the Tolstoy of the Zulus?’

That culture war remark, though later denied by Bellow, did raise awareness of a gap in our conception of literature’s ‘great authors’. We have a very narrow, exclusively white European-oriented view of what makes up the canons of literature. A direct response to Bellow’s question is easy to find; Zulu writers such as Benedict Wallet Vilakazi, Mazisi Kunene, and John Langalibalele Dube can rightly claim Tolstoy’s mantle in sub-Saharan Africa.

Before there was the English philosopher and darling of Western liberalism, John Locke, there was the Ethiopian philosopher and writer Zera Yacob (1599 – 1692). He, along with other African writers, articulated a concept of Enlightenment prior to the British heavyweights. But more than just listing African Tolstoys, there is a wider point to be made. Our curriculum needs to be globalised.

It is commendable to read Shakespeare, Pushkin and the greats. There is no disputing their immense contribution to world literature and culture. The Kremlin is promoting Pushkin worldwide, while in Ukraine Pushkin’s statues are being demolished as part of a widespread programme of de-Russification. The key difference between Moscow’s policies today and those of the Soviet period is that during the Soviet times, non-Russian authors were deliberately cultivated and promoted.

The state promotion of literature – the USSR did openly what the imperialist nations did covertly during the Cold War.

The ex-Soviet republics, such as Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Armenia, were encouraged by the official authorities to develop a literary culture indigenous to those republics. As long as you were loyal to the Communist project, non-Russian writers, musicians and authors were heavily subsidised by the state and promoted. Chingiz Aitmatov, (1928 – 2008), born in Soviet Kyrgyzstan, produced an impressive literary output during his career. Despite the political problems he faced, he continued his creative literary activities for decades.

The Nobel Prize winning poet and humanist Rabindranath Tagore was not only admired in his native India, but was strongly influenced by his visits to the USSR. This cross cultural fertilisation is what is lacking into today’s western influenced curriculum. Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize in literature as a lyricist, and that decision generated a huge controversy. Well before him, Tagore, the Nobel laureate and Bengali literary giant, wrote the lyrics of what became the national anthems of three nations. Perhaps we should be aware of that before attacking Dylan’s status as a Nobel prize recipient.

Expanding and diversifying the literary curriculum does not involve the repudiation or cancellation of the existing repertoire of writers. It consists of elaborating our understanding of non-European cultures and their literary contributions. We should all become familiar with the work of the multiple authors who could qualify as the Tolstoy of the Zulus.

The Afghan national cricket team has been on a winning streak, defeating England and Pakistan, among others. Afghan expatriates and those living in their home nation have cheered wildly at the stunning success of their team, providing a much-needed boost of optimism amidst a generally sad situation for the Afghani people.

Let’s start with a confession from the outset – I find cricket incredibly boring. My fellow Australians – yes, I was born here regardless of what impression my foreign name gives you – are excited by the sport. I always cheer for the underdog, and the Afghan win, while not in a sport I enjoy, was something to behold. If Afghanistan plays Australia in the cricket, I will be cheering enthusiastically for Afghanistan. I am happy when smaller and/or poorer nations win in sport.

The Australian cricket team has been a resilient, successful team; they can afford to lose to a smaller nation. In fact, whenever the Australians squared off against the West Indies in the 1980s, I vociferously cheered for the West Indies.

The ‘Windies’ team, as any cricketing fan will tell you, were a formidable sporting superpower in the 80s. Their long running success has ensured their players a spot as outsize heroes in the Caribbean. The team was drawn from the various nations and dependencies that constitute the region.

Back in 1976, the West Indies triumphed in cricket over their old adversary England. The effect was electrifying; no longer would the Caribbean nations be dismissed as ‘calypso cricketers.’ The West Indian team trounced their opponents, multiple times. Witnessing a smaller nation – well, a Caribbean island region in this case – emphatically defeating their larger, more organised opponents is wonderful, and supersedes nationalist parochialism.

Morocco, Spain and transcending national boundaries

In December 2022, Morocco defeated Spain in a tense penalty shootout, advancing to the quarterfinals of the FIFA World Cup. Not only was this the first time that an Arab team had advanced so far in the football, the fact that they defeated Spain, the former colonial power in Morocco, added extra resonance to the result.

Displays of euphoria, and mass celebrations of Morocco’s unprecedented advance in the football, was not restricted to Moroccan nationals. True, Moroccan people cheered in the streets, waving their flag. But they also hoisted the Palestinian flag, and the latter became a noticeable fixture in the celebrations of Morocco’s win across the Arab world.

Ben Lewis, writing in SBS news, explained that Palestinian nationalism is the common platform of solidarity and standard bearer of pan-Arab nationalism. Defeating Spain in the soccer was not just a sporting triumph, but an important signal to the world that Morocco, and Arab nationalism by extension, was a potent force in the region and could not be ignored.

The Moroccan government, headed by long term monarch Mohammed VI, is one of a number of Arab regimes that has signed normalisation treaties with Israel. The Abraham Accords, as this series of bilateral agreements is known, signalled a defeat for Palestinian nationalism. The Arab governments, such as Morocco, indicated to the world that they are prepared to abandon demands for Palestinian statehood in exchange for diplomatic recognition and economic cooperation with Israel.

Sporting diplomacy

The Moroccan football team, and their Arab supporters, waved the Palestinian flag not just as part of their jubilant celebrations. They were also repudiating the open normalisation of ties with the Zionist state by their respective governments. To be sure, Morocco has maintained secretive, cooperative contacts with Tel Aviv for decades. Tel Aviv and Rabat have coordinated their efforts in combating revolutionary and pan-Arab nationalist sentiments when it suited their mutual interests.

There is another important observation to be made here; sporting diplomacy is not the exclusive preserve of oppressed or marginalised peoples. Sport events have long been used as a vehicle to promote colonialist and ultranationalist regimes. It is no secret that Hindu supremacist Indian prime minister Narendra Modi, during his trips to Australia, the US and other countries, uses cricket as leverage in building relationships, thus softening his hardened Hindu supremacist message with a sporting gloss.

Mike Meehall Wood and Nakul M Pande write in Jacobin that India’s politicians are never far from the cricket. PM Modi knows this, and he knows that cricket, through the transnational network that was the British empire, became a common sporting and cultural interest binding England’s former colonies with the English overlords. Cultural and sporting exports served to build ties with England’s far flung possessions.

While India’s diaspora community cannot vote in India’s elections, they can certainly build bridges between India and their host nations. Pro-BJP sentiment in the Indian diasporic communities is a useful platform for international support for the Hindutva supremacist project. Cricket is the perfect instrument to solidify ties between the homeland and the expatriates.

Rather than turning expatriate communities into partisans of an ethnosupremacist project, lets briefly look at a counter example. A massive and sustained multicultural community campaign is behind the stunning success of Luton Town football club. The club, languishing in relegation for at least thirty years, finally returned to the premier league.

Obviously, the players on the team deserve all the credit for their amazing turnaround. However, we would be remiss to forget a crucial dimension of their success – the solid community engagement by Luton town people, coming from different ethnic and religious backgrounds, combining to save their football club from complete dissolution.

It was the Luton town football fans who saved their club. The combination of a collective ethos, and treating each ethnic community equitably, resulted in a new form of cooperative management of Luton club. The first in the premier league to be a living wage employer, Luton survived and flourished despite concerted efforts by venture capital to dissolve it through mergers with other clubs.

Why do I cheer for Afghanistan in the cricket? Because ethnic or national pride as a basis for sporting enthusiasm is fine, but too narrow a perspective. Australians are supposed to be renowned for cheering the underdog. Encouraging the longshot to win is deeply embedded in the Australian folklore and sense of history – at least that is what we tell ourselves.

So, in that spirit, I cheer for the smaller nations – Jamaica in the athletics, Palestinians at the Olympics, and today, Afghanis in the cricket. National pride is all well and good, but I would like to see a world where interethnic solidarity is the norm.