Tell me what your emblems are, I’ll tell you what your inconsistencies are… Some may remember this piece of cotton with black and white patterns that several ready-to-wear brands marketed under the title of “anti-war scarf” in the mid-2000s. How many were unaware then that this “accessory” was inspired by the keffiyeh, a traditional Middle Eastern headdress that became the emblem of the Palestinians during the Arab revolt against the British mandate (1936-1939), then in the years 1960 under the leadership of the future president of the Palestinian Authority Yasser Arafat? It was simply “the fashion”.
Then came the 2010s. No more press articles getting excited about the “baba cool” and “hippie chic” effect of an Isabel Marant or Balenciaga keffiyeh. The decolonial movement, a hitherto confidential school of thought postulating that relations of domination persist between the West and its former colonies and those who came from there, was taking off. And in its wake, new red lines. We then discovered that a Kim Kardashian sporting African braids or funkitude of the American singer of Puerto Rican, Filipino and Jewish origin Bruno Mars could fall under “cultural appropriation” – that is, the fact that a person from the “dominant culture” monopolizes and reproduces the codes of a so-called minority culture (in in the worst case, profiting financially from it). In 2021, the Louis Vuitton brand withdrew from sale a stole “inspired by the classic keffiyeh” in the face of criticism denouncing “cultural appropriation” and the commercial recovery through luxury of a political symbol.
From Sciences Po to showrooms
Three years later, decolonial thought, which until now stood out for its intransigence with regard to possible Western dispossessions, seems to have changed priorities. Since the start of the war in Gaza, the keffiyeh has made a comeback in demonstrations, amphitheaters, and even showrooms. In the indifference – even with the approval – of the decolonial sphere. During the blockade, in mid-March, of an amphitheater on Rue Saint-Guillaume to “put an end to the genocidal war and colonization in Palestine”, several students proudly wore their keffiyeh on their shoulders. The rebellious MP Ersilia Soudais, for her part, has probably made this scarf her “grigri”, to the point of appearing with it on a leaflet relating to… the motion of censure against the pension reform.
At Fashion Week last January, the Berlin label GmbH (whose founders are of German-Turkish and Pakistani-Norwegian nationality) even used the traditional keffiyeh motif on jackets from its fall-winter collection (2024-2025) – the running mate of La France insoumise aux Europeans, Rima Hassan, also wore one of these pieces during the launch of the party’s campaign. Choices that are certainly “committed” and, for some of the cases mentioned, “legitimate” if we refer to the identity criteria ordinarily scrutinized by the decolonial sphere. But what about the original spirit of the keffiyeh, that historically worn by peasants and Bedouins, when its traditional motifs are found on Western catwalks? The prices of the jackets on sale today on the GmbH brand website vary between 600 and almost 1000 euros. Would some loans be less problematic than others?
Orientalism
“The Palestinian cause has become the number one priority for decolonialists: wearing the keffiyeh means supporting Palestine, and therefore fighting the Israeli ‘colonizer’, summarizes the philosopher and essayist Pierre-André Taguieff. Blinded by the idea that ‘they are on the ‘good side’, they forget to be decolonialists within their own camp, that is to say, to remain the policemen of the logic of racial, economic and social domination that they identify among Westerners as long as they display a symbol from another culture…”
The “good side”, the “good cause”, the “good intentions”… So many arguments which have not always found favor in the eyes of the proponents of this thought, more inclined to judge the legitimacy of a “borrowing” ” based on the criterion of identity. Wasn’t the British lieutenant and writer TE Lawrence, known as Lawrence of Arabia, with good intentions when he supported the local Arab peoples against Turkish imperialism during the First World War (admittedly, also in the benefit the interests of the British)? This curious Englishman, always wearing a keffiyeh, was nevertheless erected by the American-Palestinian writer and professor of literature at Columbia University, Edward Saïd, pioneer of postcolonialism, as the incarnation of the “White” taking affection for “the Arab”, in whom he identified a “naive and primitive simplicity”. The concept of “orientalism”, which designates a relationship of power and domination between a passive East and an active West, was born. Is the figure of Lawrence of Arabia making a comeback?
Made in China
“Wearing a keffiyeh, even for a white person, can remain an act of solidarity, argues the executive director of the Palestine Institute for Public Diplomacy (PIPD), Inès Abdel Razek. What matters is to be aware that where the white person can wear a keffiyeh proudly in the streets, the Arab takes a real risk. If a Westerner decides to wear a keffiyeh, this must be reflected in acts of protest and solidarity, so that it is not not just a fashion accessory and therefore cultural appropriation. And above all that it is purchased in Palestine, so that the profits return to the Palestinian economy.”
Problem: since the second Intifada, in 2000, the influx of mass-produced keffiyehs, to meet demand (particularly Western), has considerably weakened the local market. Today, there is only one traditional keffiyeh factory left in Palestine, Hirbawi, and Jacques Neno, owner of the Solivr boutique, in Villeurbanne (Rhône), is one of the few to import his keffiyehs from their country. ‘origin. Speaking to L’Express, he confirms that these items are out of stock, given the significant demand that has emerged in recent months. “To support Palestine, the keffiyeh must come from Palestine. But the supply is made complicated by the war and the demand which has exploded. made in China, which conquered the market for a long time in the face of demand from the West, is cheaper and easier to find. Even in Bethlehem or Jerusalem, the keffiyehs sold in the bazaars are not necessarily made in Palestine…”
Scams
There are words, and there is reality, made of tugs. The urgency of a demonstration, the desire to symbolically support a cause, that of not fueling capitalist dynamics… Some people seem to have few scruples in this case. A quick glance at X (formerly Twitter) is enough to be convinced of this. “Order for keffiyeh placed [emoji pastèque, un symbole de soutien à la cause palestinienne]”, warned an Internet user shortly after the start of the war in Gaza, attaching a link to… the giant Amazon. For a keffiyeh produced in India, “chic and flexible”.
Better: by making the keffiyeh the new emblem of the fight against the dominant, the decolonials are becoming relays for the worst of what capitalism produces: the scammers. In recent months, websites offering “Palestinian solidarity keffiyehs” have emerged, promising to return donations to the Palestinians. The Numerama website investigated the subject to find out where the funds collected by businesses go. Verdict: “There is of course no transparency on the destination of the funds collected. The funds will never return to the children of Palestine: they will go directly to the account of the company at the head of the network of scams.”
It is a known thing: in a context of war, it happens that the intellectual dams burst in the face of what is at stake. To the point, it seems, of contradicting, after the fight against cultural appropriation and capitalism, another principle of decolonialism: opposition to nationalism. Because if some have been the subject of bad trials for “supporting Hamas” for simply having worn a keffiyeh (certain members of the terrorist group wear it, but so do all Palestinians), this garment remains a symbol of Palestinian nationalism. Where, in the West, there are countless demands for the removal of street names and statues echoing nationalist figures of the past, this symbolic choice may seem paradoxical. And, as Pierre-André Taguieff points out, “contradictory with the ambitions of pacifism displayed, in that nationalism has not always been at the forefront in this area”.
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