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This article explores the Detached Papers of the Company of Merchants Trading to Africa, an underused sub-series within The National Archives’ T 70 collection. These records offer a unique and detailed insight into the British administration of West African forts, and the lives of enslaved people forced to work in these fortifications. While the Royal African Company has been the subject of extensive scholarship, the Company of Merchants – its successor – remains understudied. Through letters, minute books, fort lists, and financial records, the Detached Papers, recently catalogued at item level for the first time, provide a critical and untapped source on the eighteenth-century Atlantic world, revealing overlooked narratives of local relationships, familial networks, and the operational structures that underpinned the transatlantic trade in enslaved Africans. This article focuses on three key areas to exemplify the importance of these records for future research: the cultural and political life of the Fante; the networks and influence of Company Governor Richard Miles; and the identities and experiences of enslaved people in British-controlled forts. By engaging with the fragmentary nature of these records, the article interrogates archival silences to surface the submerged histories of exploitation, agency, and survival within the archives of enslavement.
This article examines the ethnic and gender quotas that have been applied to Burundi’s Constitutional Court since 2019. It shows that while gender quotas aim to make the court reflective or to remedy past injustices, ethnic quotas serve multiple roles: securing ethnic peace, de-escalating conflict or confirming power balances. Our analysis challenges scepticism about judicial quotas and independence, arguing that quotas do not inherently undermine legal merit, particularly when constitutional values are at stake. However, the position-sharing model poses risks to judicial independence, potentially diminishing court legitimacy. We highlight the complexities of combining ethnic and gender quotas, and we develop a typology of courts with such quotas, categorizing Burundi’s Constitutional Court as a blend of reflective, affirmative action, position-sharing and power-sharing. By examining Burundi’s experience, the article contributes to the debate on judicial quotas in segmented societies and the impact of identity-based representation on constitutional design, post-conflict governance and judicial independence.
The introduction sets out the ways in which the volume uses an engagement with the inspiring international reverberations of the Russian Revolution across the Black Atlantic world to understand the contested articulations of left politics and different struggles against racism and colonialism. The first section situates the volume in relation to the historiography of the Russian Revolution while outlining some of the key ways in which black radicals drew inspiration from these events. The second section positions the volume in relation to recent literatures on black internationalism, drawing attention to how the chapters in this volume take forward these debates. The final section draws attention to the implications of the book for key contemporary debates on the intersection of race and class, on the emergence of politicised forms of anti-racism, in particular those arising out of a revolutionary struggle, and on racialised forms of internationalism and agency. We conclude by positioning the introduction in relation to recent political events, including the resurgent Black Lives Matter movement.
The Afterword brings together the various strands of the complex encounter between the Black Atlantic and the Red October. It argues for the dynamic and mutually complementary connection between the ideals of social and economic justice put forth by the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia and the emancipatory aspirations of the historical victims of Western racism and imperialism. The relationship between the Soviet experiment and the experiences of the Black Atlantic was far from unproblematic. There were numerous points of convergence, especially when it came to the critique of European and North American racism and colonialism. Yet the appeal of the Soviet claims to colour-blind internationalism and the class-based analysis of history had its limitations, as it would come to compete with a variety of other emancipatory visions, which privileged racial solidarity and black nationalism. It is common to talk about the impact of the Russian Revolution on the colonised majorities in the developing world and the racial minorities in the West. However, the encounter was certainly not a one-way street – it functioned as a vehicle for the forging of Soviet Socialist identity, but it also generated its fair share of challenges to the Soviet status quo. Many of the actors and sojourners of the Black Atlantic found themselves inspired by the Soviet rhetoric of anti-racism and anti-colonialism, but their very engagement with this discourse could, on occasion, put pressure on the Soviets to modernise and to encourage Soviet society towards change and even reform.
This chapter focuses on African students in Moscow during early African decolonisation and Cold War. It responds to three major questions: 1) What were Africans seeking in the USSR in human-resource development that they could not find at home? 2) What did they actually discover during their sojourns in the USSR?3) How were the Soviet formal-education programmes important in the Africans’ struggle for full decolonisation (cultural, psychological, economic and political)? The author draws upon his primary methodology of direct field experiences in Moscow during the Khrushchev era, as well as follow-up interviews in Tanzania, Paris, and elsewhere. His research on African students in the USSR during the Khrushchev era is unique for several reasons, including his field-research methodologies (participant observation and interviews) and focus on transnational actors. The chapter’s findings challenge previous scholarship related to African students’ personal, social experiences in the USSR, and Moscow’s significant formal-education programmes related to African needs and priorities as defined by prominent anti-colonial African elites.
Focusing on the histories of the New Era Fellowship (founded in South Africa in 1937), the Current Affairs Group (founded in Southern Rhodesia in 1938) and the Left Book Club in Jamaica (founded in Jamaica in 1938), this chapter maps a triangular network of circulation of socialist ideas created between the Caribbean, Africa and Europe. In particular, it looks at the transnational activities of London’s Left Book Club (LBC) between 1935 and 1947, when it founded more than fifteen groups around the globe, which distributed the material produced by the LBC. In addition to functioning as centres for the diffusion of Marxist, anti-imperialist and anti-colonial ideas, largely forming local nationalisms, those circles acted as centres of congregation and education. The Current Affairs Group, for example, was founded under influence of Victor Gollancz to support the Republican cause in the Spanish Civil War. Along with the South African Communist newspaper the Guardian, the Current Affairs Group was responsible for disseminating socialist ideas among the black segregated population. The chapter argues that transnational networks sewn by the LBC, which connected those groups, favoured the creation of a global circuit which helped non-European intellectuals to act as carriers of anti-colonial, anti-imperial, anti-racist and nationalist ideas.
The Patrice Lumumba Peoples’ Friendship University in Moscow played a role in shaping both individuals and governments in post-colonial Africa. Founded in 1960, its stated objective was to provide higher education for the developing world. Its opening followed important global shifts – particularly the collapse of European empires – but coexisted with others, especially Cold War activities. For many Africans, it was one of the only avenues for post-secondary education available. Nelson Mandela commented, ‘Hundreds of young South Africans found here the education they were denied in their own homeland.’ Observers in the West soon began to refer to PLPFU as a site of Communist indoctrination and a training ground for terrorists; its symbolic connection with Lumumba was invoked (in racialised language) as evidence of this. For instance, Time magazine asserted, ‘Four years after his death, a lot of people talk as though Patrice Emery Lumumba were still the Congo’, and accused the university of producing ‘terrorists’ and ‘agitators’ who are ‘invoking Lumumba’s name’ with its ‘rhythm of jungle drums’. The chapter explores PLPFU’s operation as a nexus of interaction among the various African countries whose students travelled there, the USSR as host and ‘instructor’, and the global vision of the US and its allies.
Between 1919 and 1921, Claude McKay, best known as a distinguished black poet and novelist, spent fourteen months in London, a crucial and transformative moment in his life and work. Yet this is the least studied and understood period of McKay’s life and oeuvre. Drawing upon newly discovered archival sources, the chapter documents and analyses the extraordinary impact McKay’s British sojourn had on his radicalisation. He met and befriended disgruntled black and colonial veterans of the First World War, and spent most of his spare time at the International Socialist Club in the East End of London, a key venue for radicals of various stripes and nationalities. He became an important member of Sylvia Pankhurst’s Workers’ Socialist Federation, the first British group to embrace and join the Communist International. He was at times the de facto editor of its newspaper, the Workers’ Dreadnought, for which he penned some of his most remarkable articles (including his very first) and radical poems. The moment that McKay arrived in Britain, and the radical milieu in which he lived and worked, turned out to be profoundly influential in the decolonisation of his mind and his full embrace of revolutionary socialism in general and Bolshevism in particular.
The chapter explores the policy and guidelines for the translation and publishing of African-American literature in Soviet Russia from 1917 up to the beginning of the Russian–German war in 1941, as well as of the basis for establishing and maintaining contacts with African-American writers. It examines the drastic difference between the revolutionary period of 1917–19, the 1920s (New Economic Policy) and the Stalinist 1930s. The key issues that allow us to see the logic of the change are: the choice of the authors and their works for translation and publishing, the bias of literary criticism, the dynamics of black writers’ literary reputation in the USSR, the activity of Soviet translators and publishers, periodicals specialising in African-American literature, Soviet and international literary institutions (like the International Union of Revolutionary Writers), writers’ associations and organisations of the 1920s, the Union of Soviet Writers. Special attention is paid to black visitors, including major figures like Claude McKay and Langston Hughes, and black residents of the USSR, their essays, articles, travel books about Soviet Russia, and the reception of these works in the Soviet Union, as well as to the correspondence between black writers and Soviet institutions, critics, editors and translators.
Up until 1931, the race issue had not been a significant element in the Communist agenda for the Spanish-speaking territories of the Caribbean Basin. The establishment of the Caribbean Bureau of the Comintern in New York in early 1931, however, forced a reassessment of the subject, as the Communist Party of the United States’ Colonial Department’s aims merged with the Caribbean Bureau’s anti-imperialist blueprint. This chapter focuses on the development of this integrated race agenda for the region that brought together elements of regional anti-imperialist campaigns, anti-lynching campaigns in the US, and anti-Garveyism Communist activity in the British West Indies. The result of this joint project was an amalgamated anti-racism initiative, American rather than Caribbean. In practical terms, the inclusion of race in the Communist agenda caused a severing of the traditional ties between Comintern agencies and Communist networks in the Caribbean Basin, since the agenda enforced a black identity as the proletarian norm for the region, artificially designed and imposed from the new revolutionary metropolis. As a result, the project’s foundations for an anti-racism platform and a leadership network would colour the Black Caribbean decolonisation and democratisation process of the post-Second World War era, while helping to preserve a racially segregated radical agenda for the Spanish-speaking Caribbean Basin.