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Nuclear (in)security in the everyday: Peace campers as everyday security practitioners

Catherine Eschle University of Strathclyde, UK

Abstract This article extends the emergent focus on ‘the everyday’ in critical security studies to the topic of nuclear (in)security, through an empirical study of anti-nuclear peace activists understood as ‘everyday security practitioners’. In the first part of the article, I elaborate on the notion of everyday security practitioners, drawing particularly on feminist scholarship, while in the second I apply this framework to a case study of Faslane Peace Camp in Scotland. I show that campers emphasize the everyday insecurities of people living close to the state’s nuclear weapons, the blurred boundaries between ‘us’ and ‘them’, and the inevitability of insecurity in daily life. Moreover, campers’ security practices confront the everyday reproduction of nuclear weapons and prefigure alternative modes of everyday life. In so doing, I argue, they offer a distinctive challenge to dominant deterrence discourse, one that is not only politically significant, but also expands understanding of the everyday in critical security studies.

Keywords Anti-nuclear, critical security studies, the everyday, (in)security, feminism, peace movement

Introduction

This article explores the possibilities for rethinking nuclear (in)security in light of recent efforts to bring ‘the everyday’ into critical security studies. It does so with a feminist-informed analysis of the discourses and practices of anti-nuclear activists in one protest site, Faslane Peace Camp. In conceptualizing these activists as ‘everyday security practitioners’, a term coined initially by feminist scholars Christina Rowley and Jutta Weldes, I aim to demonstrate one possible way of extending the substantive purview of the everyday security literature to encompass (anti-)nuclear politics, thus far neglected. More concretely, I will show in what follows how the discourses and practices of anti-nuclear activists constitute a significant challenge to both dominant deterrence discourses and to debates about everyday (in)security by invoking and reconstructing the every- day in ways that draw attention to its political and contested character.

Corresponding author: Catherine Eschle, University of Strathclyde, McCance Building, 16 Richmond Street, Glasgow, G1 1XQ, UK. Email: [email protected]

762595 SDI0010.1177/0967010618762595Security DialogueEschle research-article2018

Article

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The analysis that follows is divided into two parts. The first reviews the literature, exploring the concept of everyday (in)security and arguing for its extension to nuclear politics through the notion of ‘everyday security practitioners’, drawing on feminist scholarship. The second part presents the case study, applying the framework of everyday security practitioners to protestors at Faslane Peace Camp.

Nuclear (in)security and everyday security practitioners

‘The everyday’ has been described as an ‘emerging concept’ in critical security studies, and indeed in the discipline of international relations more generally (Guillaume, 2011a: 446). Of course, longstanding antecedents can be found in feminist interventions in international relations, which reject the usual parameters and abstractions of international relations in pursuit of an expansive, rooted understanding of where and how (in)security is produced, and by whom (e.g. Shepherd, 2010). The recent wave of interest in the concept, however, owes more to the popularity of French social theorists Lefebvre and Bourdieu, as well as US anthropologist James C. Scott.1 As such, our attention is drawn to that which is place- and time-specific, experienced and reproduced by con- crete individuals in the banal, routine activities and practices that make up the bulk of our daily lives and that are usually placed beyond critical scrutiny. The everyday thus gains its force in inter- national studies from its juxtaposition to the more usual focus on the international ‘level’ and on external threats, on the ‘high politics’ of ‘formal institutional spheres’(Mac Ginty, 2014: 550) and on the politics of crisis or exception (Crane-Seeber, 2011). To bring in the everyday is to treat the international, elite decisions and crisis politics as played out in the local and mundane. Normatively speaking, this has the effect of democratizing the subject-matter of the field. So while the critical security studies literature using the trope of the everyday includes that of the daily routines of security professionals (e.g. Bigo et al., 2010), the concept has served nonetheless to focus attention on the diverse ‘social practices and communities’ (Mac Ginty, 2014: 550) navigating security from the bottom up. Moreover, and notwithstanding that the everyday is a site of repression and passiv- ity as well as of resistance,2 interest in it in the discipline of international relations is grounded in a ‘normative appeal’ to think and do security differently, ‘contesting and altering oppressive struc- tures and practices’ (Jarvis and Lister, 2013: 161).

The new wave of research in critical security studies using the trope of the everyday has not yet examined nuclear (in)security. Certainly, the ‘messy stuff of everyday life’ (Elias, 2010: 608) seems very distant in policy debates about nuclear security. On the dominant realist view, insecurity is associated with the threat of military harm posed by other states, and practices aimed at achieving security, understood as state survival, hinge on the possession of superior military force. According to the logic of nuclear deterrence, moreover, ‘an adversary could be successfully persuaded to refrain from or to halt its aggressive actions through the threat to inflict unacceptable and inescapable damage with a retaliatory (or, for some, a pre-emptive) nuclear strike’ (Ritchie, 2009: 82). This discourse has changed in the post-Cold War, post-9/11 context in the UK, such that the sources of insecurity now also include ‘rogue’ states, terrorists and an uncertain future (Ritchie, 2009), and the goal of security practices has expanded to encompass the protection of ‘shared values in the name of the “international community”’ (Ritchie, 2010: 469). Further, the level of destructive capacity required has been tempered, with the emergence of ‘an apparently durable consensus … around a low-key minimum force pos- ture combined with support for arms control’ (Chalmers and Walker, 2002: 1). Nonetheless, the UK government remains committed to renewing the Trident weapons system, based at Faslane. Correspondingly, it still holds the view that insecurity is caused by rational actors external to

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British territory, and security is achieved through possession of nuclear weapons that serve to deter those actors according to cost–benefit calculations from which everyday human actors, relations and emotions are apparently absent.

This evacuation of the everyday from the theory and practice of nuclear states was scrutinized in groundbreaking research by feminist scholars Carol Cohn (1987) and Cynthia Enloe (1989: chapter 4) on the discourses of US nuclear security experts and the gendered and racialized dynam- ics of nuclear bases, respectively. These works showed how nuclear weapons are reproduced in the everyday while simultaneously drawing political legitimacy from their abstraction from it. Widely acknowledged as pioneering in the more recent literature on ‘the everyday’ in critical security stud- ies (e.g. Solomon and Steele, 2016: 6; Vaughan-Williams and Stevens, 2016: 43), the insights of these two authors have not been further developed, in part because of the eclipsing of feminism by other traditions of thought, mentioned above, and in part because of a shift in substantive focus from the nuclear issue to the securitization of borders, migration and belonging (e.g. Vaughan- Williams and Stevens, 2016; Côté-Boucher et al., 2014). While the latter may be understandable in the post-Cold War, post-9/11 world, it neglects important continuities and shifts in the policies of nuclear state elites, as well as efforts at resistance. It has been left to anthropologists to pick up Cohn and Enloe’s baton and develop ethnographies of the daily routines and concrete social rela- tions of nuclear security professionals and military personnel, and of the communities in which they are situated (Gusterson, 1996; Krasniewicz, 1992; Masco, 2006), thereby demystifying the processes through which the nuclear state is maintained in the everyday. I develop an alternative line of enquiry in this article, however; one exploring the contribution of anti-nuclear activists conceptualized as ‘everyday security practitioners’ and thus throwing light on how the everyday is central to the contestation of the nuclear state.

This concept of ‘everyday security practitioners’ was coined by feminists Christina Rowley and Jutta Weldes. ‘If we look at, listen to and explore “the world as non-experts see it and make it and use it, rather than as expert IR scholars imagine it is or ought to be”’, they declare, ‘we hear more complex and nuanced conversations about in/security’ (Weber cited in Rowley and Weldes, 2012: 518). Defined as ‘individuals and groups from the “margins, silences and bottom rungs” … of world politics’ (Enloe cited in Rowley and Weldes, 2012: 518), everyday security practitioners mobilize understandings of identity as fluid and multiple, ‘entangled’ with claims about insecurity (2012: 521–522. They also pursue ‘temporary and localized’ moments of security that give space to competing values such as justice and acknowledge the validity of diverse perspectives (2012: 523–525).This is a suggestive account of the substance of an alternative security logic, but needs further parsing with regard to the subject of security. While Rowley and Weldes focus on fictional characters in the television series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, questions remain as to how we might distinguish an everyday security practitioner from a security professional, for example, given the latter also operates within what is for them their own mundane, everyday world (e.g. Crane-Seeber, 2011; Côté-Boucher et al., 2014). Or whether and in what sense everyday security practitioners like Buffy might be distinguishable from members of the public in the fictional town of Sunnydale with their own ‘vernacular’ articulations of (in)security (Vaughan-Williams and Stevens, 2016; Jarvis and Lister, 2013). In addition, it remains unclear precisely how the concept of everyday security practitioners links to the pioneering feminist work on the everyday, and particularly the everyday of the nuclear state, described earlier.

I propose reserving the term ‘everyday security practitioners’ for participants in organized, self- conscious, collective efforts to challenge elite security logics and processes in and through the everyday, thus recentring the aforementioned ‘normative appeal’ to focus attention on those groups striving to transform dominant security discourses. This is akin to the approach taken in a

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follow-up paper by Karen Desborough with Weldes on the global anti-street harassment movement (2016). In contrast to security professionals (and international relations scholars) whose knowl- edge is technocratic, status-based and elitist, according to Desborough and Weldes,3 these activists derive their claims about insecurity from embodied experience (whether personal or from the tes- timony of others) and the affective responses to which this gives rise (anger, pain, frustration, fear), as well as from publicly available research (2016: 15–16).4 Moreover, unlike their unorganized counterparts among the ‘ordinary’ population, these activists are self-consciously seeking to develop alternative security practices aimed at transforming the everyday of the wider citizenry (2016: 9–21). Conceived in this way, the concept of everyday security practitioners offers a useful supplement to current critical security studies debates about the everyday, polarized as they are between studies of the routines of security policy elites/professionals on the one hand, and accounts of the vernacular discourses of non-elites on the other.5

Moreover, I suggest the feminist elements of the analysis of everyday security practitioners could be strengthened. In addition to Rowley and Weldes’s focus on the fluidity of identity, and Desborough and Weldes’s attention to women and feminist protagonists along with the embodied and affective dimensions of their knowledge claims, this would involve at least three analytical moves. The first would involve paying attention to how everyday security practitioners navigate and (re)produce gender, understood in feminist scholarship as an identity hinging on male/female sexual difference; a hierarchical system of power in which the masculine and bodies coded as such are elevated over the feminine; and/or a productive, symbolic system, whereby ‘our ideas about gender permeate and shape our ideas about many other aspects of society beyond male–female relations’, including nuclear weapons (Cohn, Hill and Ruddick cited in Duncanson and Eschle, 2008: 546). Second, feminists have mapped the everyday spatially, at least in part, onto ostensibly personal or private, domestic domains – homes, kitchens, bathrooms and bedrooms (e.g. Enloe, 1989, 2011), so we should examine how everyday security practitioners develop their insecurity critiques and alternative security practices in and through such spaces. Third, feminists have high- lighted the role of social reproduction processes in maintaining the distinction between everyday life and the public, political realm so the ways in which these are navigated or contested in the activities of everyday security practitioners are worthy of attention. Concretely, this means study- ing domestic labour or housework on the one hand, and affective labour or care work on the other (e.g. Weeks, 2007). Treated this way, the analysis of everyday security practitioners will retrieve power relations, spaces and processes marginalized in current work on the everyday in critical security studies yet long shown by feminists to be constitutive not only of the global economy (e.g. Elias, 2010; Elias and Rai, 2016), but also of theories and practices of (in)security (e.g. Enloe, 1989, 2007).

In suggesting that anti-nuclear activists, specifically, should be analysed as ‘everyday secu- rity practitioners’, I am extending the analytical framework developed by Rowley, Desborough and Weldes in a new substantive direction, and exploring one way in which this new generation of feminist work in critical security studies can take forward the pioneering work of Cohn and Enloe on nuclear politics. Additionally, this strategy allows the consideration of anti-nuclear activists not only as the rightful subject of peace studies, but also as pursuing alternative (in)security discourses and practices and thus as potential contributors to critical security stud- ies. This is particularly because of how such activists invoke and reconfigure the everyday in their contestation of the nuclear state and the dominant deterrence discourse. In sum, this first part of the article has argued for the extension of current theorizations of ‘the everyday’ in criti- cal security studies to nuclear politics in the form of a feminist-informed approach to anti- nuclear activists understood as everyday security practitioners. The second part applies this framework to Faslane Peace Camp.

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Faslane Peace Campers as everyday security practitioners

Established in 1982, 30 miles outside Glasgow and adjacent to the naval base housing the UK’s Trident nuclear submarines, Faslane Peace Camp (2013b) claims the mantle of ‘the longest run- ning permanent peace camp in the world’.6 Although the local population remain generally hostile to the camp and supportive of a base that provides substantial employment, public opinion in Scotland more widely is anti-nuclear7 and there is a significant anti-nuclear movement for which the camp has practical and symbolic importance (Eschle, 2016a). I have visited the camp several times, mostly while participating in anti-nuclear protests, but never staying overnight. My research is thus partisan, but it does not offer an insider account. Nor is it ethnographic in character, but based instead on analysis of in-depth, semi-structured interviews conducted between 2014 and 2016 with 15 individuals connected to the camp at different periods – 12 long-term campers, one short-term, and two frequent visitors (seven women and eight men in total). I have also examined an archive of campaigning ephemera, including the newsletter produced in the camp several times a year (originally Faslane Focus and latterly Faslania) and the online blogs that replaced it. Although this research strategy is not as revealing as an ethnography of the texture of ‘the every- day’ at the camp, in terms of sights, smells, sounds and daily routines (see, for example, Heller, 2001; Krasniewicz, 1992; Feigenbaum et al., 2013), it allows me to take an overview of the inse- curity discourses and security practices of the campers over the years, along with how these have relied upon particular daily routines and labour processes and marshalled particular understandings of the everyday.

Arguably, anti-nuclear peace camps offer a particularly fruitful site for the study of everyday security practitioners. Faslane is one of a wave of such camps that emerged in the early 1980s across the USA, Europe and Australia in the context of the rekindling of the Cold War arms race and the renewal of the anti-nuclear movement on a transnational scale. Several of these were women-only, most famously at Greenham Common, giving rise to a substantial body of scholarly feminist literature (reviewed in Eschle, 2017). In contrast, the camp at Faslane, mixed since its inception and often with more men than women (particularly at the moments when numbers were at their highest – between 20 and 40 campers – in the early to mid-1980s and during the period of a threatened eviction in the mid- to late 1990s), has almost entirely escaped academic analysis. Yet whether they are mixed or women-only, camps like that at Faslane constitute ‘a place-based social movement strategy that involves both acts of ongoing protest and acts of social reproduction needed to sustain everyday life’ (Feigenbaum et al., 2013: 12, emphasis in original). In other words, participants in peace camps attempt (with varying degrees of success) to create an alternative eve- ryday as an integral part of their political struggle against nuclear weapons, albeit one that becomes mundane and routine for those involved. In and through this alternative everyday, peace campers like those at Faslane articulate and practise security very differently from the deterrence norms of the British security state.

I give a flavour of this in a brief, situated narrative of my most recent visit to the camp. Approaching by bus along the busy A814, a friend and I find the camp shoehorned onto a verge, exposed to the passing traffic on its roadward side, and otherwise enclosed by dense and steeply sloping woodland. Over the road, Her Majesty’s Naval Base (HMNB) Clyde sprawls down to the tranquil waters of Gare Loch, its perimeter wreathed in razor wire and security cameras, the pro- cesses through which the British Trident nuclear submarine fleet are reproduced in the everyday hidden from view. The small wooden gate giving entry to the camp has a brightly painted sign welcoming visitors, even if the few inhabitants we eventually find are focused more on their mugs of tea and on the warm stove in the communal space on this cold and damp day than on meeting and greeting. Two men sit on a battered old sofa for the duration of our visit, one immobile,

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swathed in blankets, the other nursing his tea and roll-up and petting a pair of plump, lively dogs. A young woman with a close-cropped head, full of nervous energy, comes in to enthuse over the chocolate biscuits we have brought and to tell us ruefully that she is busy with a long list of main- tenance jobs, given that other campers have gone to protest at an arms fair in London. Today, then, the action is elsewhere. A man in a leather jacket, an anarchist symbol in his ear, offers to show us around. We follow the muddy footpath that winds though the caravans and ramshackle hand-built structures crammed onto the site, all painted in bright colours and covered with slogans and stick- ers proclaiming ‘Scotland: Nae Place for Nuclear Weapons’, ‘Peace Begins at the Dinner Table – Be Vegan’ and ‘Free the Nipple’. Our guide plays with the dogs as we walk and encourages us to take photos, pointing out the elevated compost toilet and inviting us into an ancient bus that turns out to be someone’s sleeping quarters, strewn with blankets and cushions. We exit through another small gateway and go for a walk up the road, alongside the enormous base, taking occasional pic- tures of the fence until two male police officers pull up in a patrol car. Given the recent rise in threat levels, we are told, our behaviour has been closely observed from inside the base and found to pose an unacceptable security risk. We are instructed politely but immovably to delete our photos and catch the bus home.

In what follows, my feminist-inflected analysis of the campers as everyday security practition- ers follows Desborough and Weldes (2016) in having a two-part structure, the first examining the insecurity discourses generated by campers and the second their alternative security practices. With both, I seek to draw out the contrast with the dominant deterrence approach.

Articulations of everyday insecurity

Insecurity is articulated by campers very differently from the dominant deterrence discourse described in the first part of this paper, in which the emphasis is largely on external military threats to the British state. Most obviously, camper arguments indicate a wider conception of the sources of insecurity, including ‘environmental deterioration’ amounting to ‘the destruction of Mother Earth’ (Faslane Focus, Samhain 1994: 12)8 and economic deprivation, as exemplified by ‘an explosion in poverty-related hunger in Britain’ (Faslane Peace Camp, 2013a). Moreover, there is some awareness among interviewees of structural gendered insecurities: ‘wherever you look in the world … women are the poorest[,] … have got the least voice, and … are just abused every way, emotionally, physically, sexually’ (Interview 10).9 This expansive understanding of environmental, economic and gendered vulnerabilities is accompanied by an insistence that insecurity is suffered by local communities, women, humanity and the planet. Such a broadening and deepening of mainstream conceptions of insecurity and their ‘referent objects’ echoes common understandings of the trajectory of critical security studies, as Rowley and Weldes indicate (2012: 516–517).

The campers go further, however, by inverting dominant deterrence discourse, such that nuclear weapons and accompanying infrastructures and mindsets are key sources of insecurity in everyday life rather than the means of protection. In this way, the everyday is invoked in overtly normative and political terms by these activists, as desirable, fragile, contested. Such a move is in line with longstanding liberal internationalist, anti-militarist, materialist and feminist peace movement dis- courses articulated at Greenham and elsewhere that also position nuclear weapons as a threat to daily life (e.g. Roseneil, 1995: chapter 1). Where camper arguments become distinctive, I suggest, is in their emphasis specifically on the risks to the daily lives of people who live in proximity to the nuclear base. On this view, the camp and its surrounding community blur together, with the undoubted local hostility to the camp downplayed in favour of an emphasis on shared identity and vulnerability to the base.

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In this vein, the base is accused of posing both a direct and indirect threat to the local popula- tion. It is an indirect threat in that it erodes democracy, skews investment priorities, and degrades the environment while restricting access to it. One interviewee was particularly inflamed by the expanding footprint of the base: ‘we used to get milk from Coulport … The farmer was driven out … This was in peace-time! … They had no grounds’ (Interview 6). In addition, the base is a direct threat to the local community because it constitutes a ‘sitting target’ for a nuclear or terrorist strike (Imagine this Convoy infosheet, no date) and because of the possibility of a catastrophic accident. Most strikingly, campers argue the base could repress the local population in such an event. As Nick points out, ‘before they got the new fence … they had sandbag machine gun turrets, and the idea was that in times of any crisis … people would come to the base thinking that they would get safety … and they would’ve shot us’ (Interview 7). Shirley underlines the point:

we were doing a vigil and we came back … and it was late at night, early morning, and … the MoD [Ministry of Defence] were doing a great big exercise. And part of the exercise was to come and get the dissidents, and that was us at that time, and when we went into the camp everybody was sleeping … And they were walking about the camp with guns, pointing guns in at the caravan windows’. (Interview 10)

In effect, the nuclear state is accused of prioritizing the security of its nuclear weapons over the security of its people. In so doing, it constitutes an overt menace to the most domestic and intimate aspects of everyday life in the camp and, by extension, the local community.

Yet if the base and the nuclear policy underpinning it constitute the source of insecurity in the everyday on this view, they are not an enemy equivalent to an external state as in the deterrence approach. For a start, they are generally not depicted as coherent, bounded and rational. Instead, responsibility for nuclear policy and base actions is attributed to a range of actors and interests (from elites to individual defence secretaries, and from local contractors to the police), acting from a range of motivations, from rage to self-interest to fear. Nor does the majority of camper discourse depict military and civilian base workers or police as ‘Other’, fundamentally different from the ‘Self’ being made insecure; rather there is an emphasis on their inclusion in the local community and shared humanity with campers. Thus Quentin emphasized his military back- ground when talking about soldiers on the base, ‘people that I’d served with … there was a dog handler, and I still see him today … we get on great, and we used to have conversations’ (Interview 9). Or take the description by Nick of the time ‘[t]here was these two policemen stand- ing there … And the guy put his hand in his pocket and he pulled out a CND [Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament] badge … you can’t stereotype them’ (Interview 7). In such ways, the presentation of Self and Other in camper discourses of insecurity is in contrast to the strained efforts of the deterrence discourse to establish certainty about identity. In Rowley and Weldes’s terms (2012: 521–522), campers invoke a notion of subjectivity which is ‘fundamentally messy’ and ambiguous, and which ‘destabilizes the boundaries of the “we” … to be secured … some- times “we” are “them”’ – and vice versa.

In addition, campers problematize the deterrence norm that insecurity must be overcome at all costs by appearing to accept a measure of vulnerability in the everyday. On a general level, this is manifest in largely sanguine attitudes to the perennial difficulties of recruiting sufficient people and organizing them in order to sustain the camp on a daily basis. As Toni puts it: ‘I’ve been to meetings where we’ve talked about closing … the camp loses its focus and then people arrive who bring the focus back to what it’s supposed to be’ (Interview 11). More concretely, daily life in the camp implies a degree of insecurity for individuals, in part due to the way in which domestic space has been reorganized, with shared washing and toilet facilities and with cooking, eating and relaxa- tion mostly taking place in collective areas. Consequently, much of life usually hidden away in

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family homes is conducted more or less in sight of other campers, base workers and the passing public. This functions both to advertise opposition to the dominant deterrence norms – ‘if you’re at the side of the A814 hanging up the washing, everybody driving past knows you’re … opposed to nuclear weapons’ (Interview 1) – and to enable political discussion with curious passers-by. It means the camp is vulnerable to hostile outsiders, however, perhaps best illustrated in the nocturnal military exercise above. Yet it seems such threats have been met with stoicism, as in this example: When a frequent visitor turned out to be ‘MoD … we just used her … I got her to drive me round to the other side of the loch so that I could see what submarines were in … we just continued as normal’ (Interview 9). Perhaps more serious are sources of insecurity emerging internally within the open domestic space. Campers have organized against the potential of male sexual predation and violence on site, setting up codes of conduct and women-only spaces. ‘[W]e had a meeting on camp … How do we make the camp a safe place for women?’ (Jeanne, Newsletter, November 1986: 3). But repeated incidences where individuals caused harm to themselves or threatened oth- ers appear to have been harder to mitigate effectively. In this vein, Graham mentioned a woman ‘who ended up barricading herself in a caravan … [she] threw urine on people … there was a bit of violence … you have to try to figure out what to do about that’ (Interview 5). For Graham and others, there are no clear solutions to this perennial problem in protest camps.10 For many campers, then, insecurity is generated internally as well as externally, and thus is ‘both mundane and una- voidable’ (Rowley and Weldes, 2012: 523).

This view of insecurity is not shared universally. The newsletters of the mid- to late-1990s have a different tenor, written while the camp, facing eviction, was repopulated by veterans of the radi- cal environmentalist movement who had been resisting road building and airport expansion else- where. As fortified structures and underground tunnels were constructed, the camp was closed to public view and transformed into a primarily defensive space, focused on repelling the threat of eviction through acts of physical daring in confrontation with the authorities (Doherty, 2000), rather than on nuclear insecurity. This was accompanied by polarized representations of Self and Other in the newsletter. Campers were painted as warriors for peace, in a striking reflection of mili- tary masculinities, up against prominent politicians depicted with targets on their bodies, police and soldiers drawn as fascists and pigs, and a wider society populated by zombies and aliens (see Eschle, 2017). In this way, the blurring of Self and Other, and the notion that a measure of everyday insecurity is inevitable within an open and politicized domestic space, were displaced during a period of enhanced external threat. This is a reminder that Faslane Peace Camp is not a singular subject but a site of many voices, and consequently that the discourses of insecurity articulated within it are not unified but plural and contradictory. The literature indicates that the same is true of other peace camps (e.g. Roseneil, 2000: chapter 7; Krasniewicz, 1992: chapter 11). Thus we find confirmation of the argument of Rowley and Weldes that everyday security practitioners articulate ‘multiple identities and in/securities, multiple relationships between them, and multiple discourses and approaches’ (2012: 521), in contrast to the totalizing deterrence discourse.

Alternative everyday security practices

In the light of their reframing of nuclear insecurity as caused to the local community by the very base that is supposed to protect them, what alternative practices have the campers at Faslane devel- oped to create a more secure everyday? The dominant posture on nuclear deterrence assumes security is achieved by the state, through possession of nuclear weapons. In sharp contrast, camp- ers have generated two connected sets of security practices, the first confronting the insecurity produced by the state’s everyday reproduction of nuclear weapons, and the second prefiguring alternative modes of everyday life.

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The confrontational practices of campers include, most obviously, direct action to disrupt the everyday routines of the nuclear state and particularly the adjacent base, named in Gene Sharp’s influential typology as ‘nonviolent11 intervention’ (1973: chapter 8).12 As at Greenham and else- where (e.g. Roseneil, 1995: chapter 6; Feigenbaum et al., 2013: chapter 3), campers mount incur- sions into the base, blockade the gates and the roads, and damage or decorate the fence and other parts of the base to which they can gain access, as well as taking part in similar protests at other sites. One such action is described thus: ‘the camp and friends locked on and blockaded both gates of Faslane for 90 mins disrupting the morning shift from getting in’, followed days later by ‘a couple of trespass actions … This resulted in the “bandit alarm” being activated which disrupts the normal running of the base as all personnel have to report indoors and the gates are closed’ (Faslane Peace Camp, 2012a). Such actions disrupt and also ridicule the daily procedures of HMNB Clyde, and of the nuclear state more broadly, just as Greenham women dancing on top of missile silos ‘defied the security of the base’ (Sylvester, 1994: 189).

Beyond these headline-grabbing interventions, the struggle to confront the reproduction of nuclear weapons in the everyday at Faslane includes what Sharp describes as ‘nonviolent protest and persuasion’ (1973: chapter 3), intended to expose the secret and/or mundane aspects of the daily reproduction of nuclear weapons. Specific tactics here include ‘symbolic’ acts intended to bear witness to and demonstrate dissent from the activities on the base, such as frequent vigils and intermittent demonstrations of various sizes, for which campers provide support. At least in part, these actions direct pressure inward to the base, intending to provoke critical questioning, shame or upset on the part of base workers and military personnel, as evident in accounts of similar activ- ism elsewhere (e.g. Managhan, 2007: 650–651). There are also more outward-facing activities, including information-gathering and education. In this regard, campers have monitored the daily activities in and around the base: ‘I started Subwatch … looking out for submarines and keeping a log’ (Interview 9). The information is then disseminated to activist networks – ‘Greenpeace used to phone up … for access to our sub log’ (Interview 9) – and wider audiences. In this vein, campers have written and distributed a newsletter and latterly an online blog, given talks to local campaign- ing groups and visited festivals in the ‘peace bus’, all drawing peace movement and public atten- tion to what goes on in the base on a daily basis (on similar tactics elsewhere, see, for example, Feigenbaum et al., 2013: chapter 2).

Together these diverse confrontational practices imply a more expansive ontology and episte- mology than those underpinning the dominant deterrence view, with its focus on unitary states and on means-end rationality. Campers’ security practices conform to Rowley and Weldes’s account of everyday security practitioners as drawing on ‘divergent epistemologies’ that validate experiential knowledge, from a range of situated perspectives (Rowley and Weldes, 2012: 524). They call upon a range of individuals and communities to confront nuclear weapons, thus dramatically expanding who counts as an agent of security, and they treat these agents in a holistic way. Humour is often key; alternatively, campers may act in deliberately emotive, feminized ways to convey rage, despair or love, as in the instance when they interrupted a ‘nuclear defence’ training seminar: campers ‘presented the delegates with large posters with images of victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki suf- fering the effects of radiation burns … [and] read out first-hand accounts from Hiroshima survivors in unison before being loudly ushered out’ (Faslane Peace Camp, 2012b). Such modes of disor- dered emotional engagement are common in anti-nuclear protests (e.g. Managhan, 2007; Krasniewicz, 1992), making it difficult for officials to respond with reason or force. More than this, campers are treating their varied local audiences, whether sympathetic voters or base workers, as socially embedded, embodied, feeling individuals, capable of experiencing shame, amusement or empathy, and of being convinced of the wrongness of nuclear weapons on any of these emotional registers.

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Connectedly, the confrontation of nuclear insecurity in the everyday often involves reversals or ridiculing of the gender order. Although the camp itself has never been women-only, women-only or women-led actions have been frequent. See, for example, Shirley’s description of her response to the incident when soldiers pointed guns through caravan windows. Confronting them with a group of women friends, she said ‘“excuse me … my children are fast asleep in there” … And … we put our fingers up the barrels of the guns and sang “take the toys away from the boys”’ (Interview 10). Or consider this more recent blog entry:

This weekend saw the delectable women from Aldermaston Women’s Peace Camp descend on Faslane. The theme of the invasion was ‘Domestic Extremists at large’ … armed with rubber gloves, head scarves and thought provoking banners, like good domesticated women, we gave the gate a right scrub. Of course, we had to stop the influx of NATO army trucks by blocking the road … that’s why the gate was so dirty in the first place! (Faslane Peace Camp, 2011)

Thus, similarly to the women-only camps of the Cold War (e.g. Managhan, 2007; Laware, 2004), the campers mobilize gendered bodies and play with gendered symbolism in ways that hold up a mirror to the military masculinities and rationalities on show at the base, exposing them to critique and satire. Connectedly, such actions subvert the symbolic coding of direct action as a masculine endeavour, the province of warriors for peace, not least because they are facilitated by men taking on support roles and associated domestic labour.

This brings me to the intimate connection between the confrontational practices described above, and ‘prefigurative’ practices intended to foreshadow the desired future in the present by ensuring that ‘activist practice reflects the kind of society your movement aims to build’ (Cockburn, 2007: 178). Or as one participant put it, the aim of the camp ‘is to demonstrate … alternatives, not only to nuclear weapons as a way of managing co-operation, but to lots of other issues as well’ (Interview 8). In this way, campers seek not only to disrupt the everyday reproduction of nuclear weapons, but to build an alternative everyday.

There have been at least three sets of prefigurative practices at Faslane Peace Camp, the first involving the transformation of gendered power relations and identities. Notably, campers have challenged the allocation of domestic and affective work to women, aided by the reorganization of domestic space and also the rejection of the institution of waged labour, effectively bypassing the capitalist dichotomy between a feminized sphere of reproductive labour and masculine-dominated world of waged work (Eschle, 2016b). Cooking, cleaning, repairing infrastructure and gathering wood for fuel has been organized either by rota or on a voluntary basis, sometimes through meet- ings or at meal-times, often through self-selection. Denise asserted that ‘we all take responsibility … We all take turns … to do at least three things a day’ (Interview 3). Furthermore, campers have shared responsibility for affective labour. Anna put it thus: ‘people would say, “how on earth can you manage to bring up a baby at the peace camp?” … It’s easy ’cos there’s always somebody around’ (Interview 1), and Andrew underlined the point with his story of visiting social workers amazed at the extent of collective childcare in the period before the eviction threat changed camp dynamics (Interview 15). And campers have looked after each other: as Shirley said of the early 1980s, ‘there was caring things done for each other … by men and women’ (Interview 10). Similarly, Willa, who lived at Faslane a decade later, stressed that the camp was like a family in which everyone looked out for each other (Interview 14).

In this context, campers have reframed gender identities. While less likely than campers at Greenham to articulate queer, women-centred or radical-feminist identities (e.g. Roseneil, 2000), bourgeois norms of femininity as consumerist, compliant and confined to the private sphere have been rejected by campers, and more assertive and agentic alternatives asserted. This can be seen in

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Anna’s comment about breastfeeding in public: ‘I remember a policeman saying to me outside the court “in my day people didn’t do that” and I replied “luckily this is my day, and I do”’ (Interview 1). Similarly, campers have sought to construct less aggressive, more empathetic modes of masculine identity, as Nick indicates in his discussion of the nonviolent camp response to a hostile visitor: ‘about three months before that … I would have probably picked up a lump of wood and tried to batter him with it … Because that’s the way we dealt with things in the [local council housing] Schemes, you know, … and we didn’t, and that was good’ (Interview 7). Or as Hoossie writes of ‘an experimental Men’s discussion group’: ‘We are still affected by our social conditioning and have to spot where our behaviour is still oppressive … are we too scared to let go of our privileged position?’ (Newsletter, 2001: 27). In such ways, what it means to be a ‘man’ or ‘woman’ has been contested on camp, even if not entirely transformed.

The remaining two sets of prefigurative practices at Faslane centre on sustainable and collective living, both widespread impulses in recent Western protest camp and social movement cultures (e.g. Feigenbaum et al., 2013: chapter 4; Epstein, 1991). To this end, campers have developed ecological technologies, such as solar and bicycle-powered electricity, along with composting toilets. Camp lifestyle is frugal, with limited reliance on consumer culture and energy infrastructure. As Charlie put it, ‘everything’s much more physical, you have a lot more to do, you can’t just flick a switch’ (Interview 2). Simultaneously, collective ways of organizing daily life have emerged. On the one hand, campers have pooled property and resources. In the early days of the camp, ‘we were all unemployed so we all had giros [benefit cheques] and … we just handed over the money’ (Interview 7). The reliance on state benefit has ended in recent years, with Fiona describing how, during her stay of 2011–2013, everyone contributed savings and scavenged food from skips (dump- sters). She added, ‘there’s technically no [private] ownership or monitoring of ownership’ (email, 2014). On the other hand, campers have developed consensus decisionmaking procedures. ‘The camp has tried to … find ways to make decisions and get things done without leaders, to value eve- ryone’s voice and everyone’s skills’ (Newsletter, Summer 1997: 12). As Anna commented, ‘we taught proper consensus process … there were times when there was real conflict in the camp and there were meetings ’till four in the morning … But we’d thrash it out’ (Interview 1).

In such ways, then, the prefigurative practices of campers enact an alternative everyday that aims to be not only safer than the nuclear world order, but also more liberatory, freeing individuals from capitalist, patriarchal society. In Rowley and Weldes’s terms, security is thus understood as ‘intersecting with … rather than as necessarily privileged over’ other political values and goals (2012: 524). As interviewees acknowledged, however, fully sustainable, collective living and gen- der equality remain normative aspirations rather than achieved objectives. The gendered division of labour has not been entirely eradicated: as one early camper railed: ‘I’ve wasted enough of my energy on layabouts here … (strange enough, it happens to be men)’ (Pauline in Members of the Faslane Peace Camp, 1984: 57). Furthermore, the reconstruction of gender identity has remained incomplete. Vince, for one, recognized that his ‘alpha-male’ persona was a source of conflict with others (Interview 13); or take the eviction period of the late 1990s, when newsletter representations of the peace camper as a hyper-masculine peace warrior discursively marginalized women and femininity (Eschle, 2017). Collective living has also been hard to sustain, with Fiona acknowledg- ing conflicted feelings around people taking ‘her’ things and others pointing out that consensus decisionmaking has not prevented the emergence of informal leadership cliques (Interview 12). In such ways, we are reminded not only that insecurity is unavoidable, but that camper security prac- tices are an ongoing project, with security – and other values – never fully realized. The campers, like Buffy and friends, only ever achieve ‘temporary forms of security … At best there is “not safe but safer”’ (Koopman cited in Rowley and Weldes, 2012: 523).

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Conclusion

Extending recent theorizations of ‘the everyday’ in critical security studies to the topic of nuclear (in)security, this article has presented a feminist-influenced case study of the discourses and prac- tices of anti-nuclear campaigners at Faslane Peace Camp, framed as ‘everyday security practition- ers’. I have documented camper arguments about everyday insecurity in a nuclear world on the one hand, and their everyday security practices on the other, drawing out the contrast with the dominant discourse of nuclear deterrence that assumes insecurity is caused by external others and mitigated by state possession of nuclear technologies. Campers instead emphasize the everyday insecurities of people living in proximity to the state’s nuclear weapons, the blurred boundaries between us and them, and the inevitability of a degree of insecurity in daily camp life. And they pursue security by confronting the everyday reproduction of nuclear weapons, in terms of both disruptive direct action and of ‘nonviolent protest and persuasion’ in various forms, and by constructing new ways of living in the everyday – albeit recognizing that security will always remain incomplete. In so doing, I sug- gest, the campers have offered a distinctive challenge to nuclear norms over several decades, one in which the logic of deterrence is not simply inverted, but also, to some degree, undercut by refusals of state-centrism, of Self–Other binaries and of security at any cost.

It could be argued that this challenge is of limited political significance. After all, as one inter- viewee ruefully acknowledges, ‘Trident’s still there’ (Interview 7). Campers remain resistant rather than victorious and, although their insecurity discourses are widely echoed in mainstream Scottish social and political life, their alternative security practices are harder to universalize. Individuals with extensive caring responsibilities, for example, or those facing more immediate material demands or racialized vulnerabilities in their relations with the police, are unlikely to be able or willing to live at the camp. This, then, is a manifestation of the everyday that is not open to every- one. Yet it would be wrong to dismiss the political significance of the camp on this basis. Various local organs of the nuclear state have had to respond repeatedly to the disruption caused by camp- ers, preventing the normalization of nuclear weapons in the everyday, particularly in and around the local area. Moreover, the camp has been crucial in providing the wider Scottish movement against nuclear weapons with both a practical infrastructure for protests and a potent symbol of opposition. In this, I suggest, the everyday of the camp is crucial, involving as it does the recon- struction of gender, of domestic space and of reproductive labour and thus juxtaposing a small- scale, higgledy-piggledy, homely environment, and messy, feminized domestic routines and female agency, to the enormous, austere and masculinized nuclear base. This has the subversive political effect of rendering visible and strange the usually unproblematized and invisible processes by which nuclear weapons are reproduced, as much discussed in the literature on women-only camps of the 1980s (Eschle, 2017). The evidence here suggests that camps do not have to be populated exclusively by female bodies for that effect to be sustained.

In addition, the case study demonstrates that scholars of ‘everyday security’ in critical security studies could fruitfully expand their substantive focus beyond the securitization of borders, migra- tion and belonging to (re-)encompass nuclear politics. While there are several possible lines of enquiry in this regard (such as the everyday routines of personnel at nuclear installations, or the ways in which ‘vernacular’ articulations of nuclear (in)security sustain or challenge the nuclear state), the study of peace camps like that at Faslane offers particular insights to scholarship on everyday security because the everyday is so central to this mode of protest politics. In effect, campers invoke the everyday as a normative good undermined by nuclear weapons; and strive for its reconstruction as an integral aspect of their alternative security practices. In so doing, they self- consciously politicize the everyday, or perhaps more accurately draw attention to its already politi- cal character, exposing its mobilization as a rhetorical or symbolic artefact by proponents as well

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as opponents of nuclear weapons. In this way, the apparently mundane, banal, invisible ways in which international security is articulated and practised in daily life are shown to require intensive, ongoing work from the state and its local manifestations and thus, however naturalized they appear, to be open to political challenge.

Finally, the case study presented here has demonstrated the utility of the concept of ‘everyday security practitioners’ and indicated ways it could be further refined. It has confirmed the major substantive claims made by Rowley, Desborough and Weldes, about the discourses and practices of such practitioners, namely that the boundaries between self and other are likely to be unstable, experiential knowledge and affective responses endorsed, insecurity seen as to some degree a per- manent condition, and the articulation of progressive alternatives likely to be incomplete, transient and contested. In addition, the case demonstrates the value of reserving the concept of everyday security practitioners for collective and self-conscious attempts to overturn dominant security log- ics. Clearly, camper discourses and practices differ in important ways from the vernacular articula- tions of (in)security among the wider population and the everyday routines and discourses of the elites in the adjacent nuclear base. And while the latter two, and the relation between all three, merit further study, focusing on organized opponents to the base allows us to disentangle key ele- ments of an existing normative challenge to the nuclear status quo in the UK, and to draw out its distinctiveness. Finally, I have sought to make a case for bolstering the feminist elements in the study of everyday security practitioners, by teasing out how gendered power relations and sym- bolic systems, domestic spaces and reproductive labour processes shape and are reshaped by the (in)security discourses and practices of peace campers. These feminist heuristics could be further elaborated and explored in the study of everyday security practitioners in other contexts, by those critical security studies scholars committed to uncovering and supporting alternatives to dominant security logics.

Acknowledgements

Drafts of this article were presented at a workshop on ‘Everyday Insecurities and Vulnerabilities’, University of Glasgow, 30 April–1 May 2015; at the Third Annual Conference of the BISA Global Nuclear Order work- ing group, University of Birmingham, 17–18 September 2015; and at a panel entitled ‘Everyday (In)Security and Everyday Peace’ at the ISA annual convention, Atlanta, March 16–19, 2016. I am grateful to the organis- ers Ty Solomon, Andrew Futter and Jennifer Riggan. I am particularly indebted to Jutta Weldes and Karen Desborough for sharing their work in progress, to Andy Judge for his detailed feedback, and to Jane Tallents for access to her peace camp archive. Finally, heartfelt thanks to my interviewees for their generosity with their time – as well as for their dedication to transforming the nuclear everyday.

Funding

This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, commercial, or not-for-profit sectors.

Notes

1. Bourdieu’s ‘thinking tools’ of social ‘field’ and ‘habitus’ have been deployed in critical security studies to both disaggregate the unitary state as security provider and explain the expansion of securitization dynamics into society, by enabling the study of the everyday practices of transnational security profes- sionals (Bigo, 2011; Bigo et al., 2010). Lefebvre’s discussion of the production and colonization of the everyday in capitalist modernity through the spaces of work, consumption and leisure has been more influential in international political economy (e.g. Davies and Niemann, 2002), although his multidimen- sional theorization of space has wider implications (Solomon and Steele, 2016: 11–12). Finally, Scott’s work on ‘hidden transcripts’ and everyday resistances deployed by the oppressed to contest domination

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in the everyday has been discussed in debates about agency and resistance in international relations, including within critical security studies, e.g. Guillaume (2011b).

2. In the Lefebvre tradition, the everyday is ‘a contested place, characterized by mystifications and the struggle to overcome them’ and produced with and by capitalist states and markets (Davies and Niemann, 2002: 558).

3. This differs from the contrast established between experts and non-experts in Rowley and Weldes, 2012. 4. See also Pain and Smith, 2008, for a sophisticated feminist take on the embodied and affective dimen-

sions of everyday (in)security. 5. To be clear, the views and daily routines of both security professionals and non-mobilized citizens

remain eminently worthy of study in their own right when considering (in)security in the everyday, but a focus on everyday security practitioners, conceived as collective oppositional actors, is a useful and currently underexplored supplement. Guillaume (2011b) implies that such an approach romanticizes activists, conceiving them as existing beyond power relations and superior to unorganized moments of resistance in daily life. However, I maintain that collective, conscious efforts to construct alternative (in) security are worthy of study and possible to study critically. Collective actors may be represented by par- ticipants as having stable and unified identities, and as beyond oppressive power relations, but they are in fact ongoing constructions, embedded within the power relations they seek to contest (Eschle, 2004). Or as Maria Stern (2006) indicates, even the most progressive or marginalized collective identity claim contains repressions, slippages and contradictions such that the boundaries of the subject of security are never entirely secured.

6. Its establishment on land owned in the 1980s by Strathclyde Regional Council, based in Glasgow and supportive of unilateral disarmament, not only sheltered the camp from the eviction proce- dures faced by others, but helped it secure a lease ‘for a peppercorn rent’ and a caravan site permit (Members of the Faslane Peace Camp, 1984: 35–38). With council restructuring in 1996, the site came under the jurisdiction of a smaller, rural council composed of conservatively minded inde- pendents. The new council secured an eviction order in 1998, but has never enforced it (BBC News Scotland, 2012).

7. ‘A poll by TNS BMRB for Scottish CND in March 2013 [on Trident renewal] found that 25% of those questioned were uncommitted, but of those who expressed a preference, 81% were opposed to Trident replacement, with only 19% supporting the plan’ (Scottish CND, 2013). The extent of public opposition to Trident renewal in Scotland has since been contested by an Ashcroft poll but even that found a minor- ity of 37% supporting the UK’s nuclear weapons ‘in principle’ with 48% opposed (Eaton, 2013).

8. This newsletter and later-mentioned information sheets and flyers are in the privately held archive of Faslane Peace Camp ephemera to which the author was kindly granted access.

9. All interviewee names are pseudonyms. 10. This speaks to what Feigenbaum et al. describe as the difficulties in building ‘alternative structures of

care and security’ (2013: 216) that deal adequately with the substance abuse, homelessness and mental health issues that surface in protest camps. These reflect wider social problems but often particularly intensely, because camps attract people who are not cared for in wider society and because activism can be traumatic.

11. Nonviolence ‘refers to methods of political action that eschew violence’ (Howes, 2003: 430) with con- temporary versions striving to avoid (feminized) associations of passivity in favour of active confronta- tion and defining violence in ways which exclude the destruction of property so that fence-cutting, for example, is included in the tactical repertoire (e.g. Epstein, 1991: 70–72). The renunciation of violence in peace movements is usually principled rather than strategic and involves courting arrest, although the picture has become more complicated at Faslane Peace Camp and elsewhere with the influence in the 1990s of radical environmentalism with its more tactical use of direct action and refusal of dialogue with the legal system (see Eschle, 2017: 482).

12. Sharp’s work and the recent upsurge of enquiry into nonviolent or civil resistance focus on large-scale social unrest against repressive regimes (e.g., Nepstad, 2015; Chenoweth and Cunningham, 2013). Nonetheless, there is a clear overlap with this literature and the analysis of Western peace, environmental and global justice movements.

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ORCID iD

Catherine Eschle https://orcid.org/0000-0002-4566-9176

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Interviews cited

1. Anna, 22.10.2014 and 22.12.2014, near Edinburgh, UK. 2. Charlie, 23.10.2014, Faslane Peace Camp, UK. 3. Denise, 23.10.2014, Faslane Peace Camp, UK. 4. Fiona 25.10.2014, Glasgow, UK (additional information sent by email 27.10.2014). 5. Graham, 30.10.2014, Edinburgh, UK. 6. Maurice, 27.11.2014, Helensburgh, UK. 7. Nick, 27.11.2014, Glasgow, UK. 8. Owen, 28.11.2014, Glasgow, UK. 9. Quentin, 2.12.2014, Glasgow, UK. 10. Shirley, 5.12.2014, Dumbartonshire, UK. 11. Toni, 11.12.2014, Helensburgh, UK. 12. Una, 25.6.2016, Manchester, UK. 13. Vince, 30.6.2016, Glasgow, UK. 14. Willa, 8.7.2016, Glasgow, UK. 15. Andrew, 4.8.2016, London, UK.

Catherine Eschle is a senior lecturer in the School of Government and Public Policy at the University of Strathclyde, Glasgow. Her research and teaching focus on social movements and their implications for the disciplines of politics and international relations, with a particular interest in feminist theory and practice. She is the author, with Bice Maiguashca, of Making Feminist Sense of the Global Justice Movement (Rowman and Littlefield, 2010), and has published more recently on women’s anti-nuclear campaigning, feminist analyses of nuclear (in)security, and protest camps. Email: [email protected]