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This chapter explores how African intellectual knowledge systems have been shaped by the cultural interchange between the African continent and the African diaspora in the Americas. In particular, I explore how notions of Africa and Pan-African thought have both shaped and been shaped by thinkers on both sides of the Atlantic. This chapter attempts to trace a series of connections through a sampling of anglophone poetry, plays, letters, novels, speeches, music, and the ideas these texts embody in creating an alternative archive to that established by European thinkers. By focusing on the writers of the Harlem Renaissance, the Drum Generation, political icons like Nkrumah, Garvey, Fanon, and Mandela, with odd pairings like Mugabe and Marley and a sampling of West African plays, I trace how the African diaspora shifted understandings of an imagined community on the African continent, while African thinkers changed how its diaspora understood the continent itself in terms of those imaginings. I am arguing for a vision of twentieth- and twenty-first-century African literary production as a repository of cultural strategies with material effects, which centralize how Pan-Africanisms imagine modernity.
What is ideology? How can we discern significant, enduring ideas from more fleeting ones? With these opening questions the chapter lays out some ways scholars might investigate the impact of ideology on international history. The chapter offers how-to insights for historians to examine worldviews, national visions, and personal biases as they have shaped US foreign relations. In so doing, we are reminded to always consider our own ideologies, preconceptions, and assumptions, regardless of whether those presuppositions are more or less obvious. The chapter singles out key contested concepts – such as “civilization” and empire – and suggests a focus on language and rhetoric in approaching this subject. Biography and a concentration on people and groups is crucial to any deep investigation of ideology. The cultural embeddedness and historical context of the actors and ideas we focus on is critical to this work. International and transnational dimensions of thought are virtually omnipresent in the historical record; so, too, one must keep in mind the shaping role of markets and economic ideas and the impact of competing forms of nationalism. Overall, the chapter emphasizes the relationship between norms and ideology, the significance of religion, along with themes such as power, progress, and democracy.
This chapter explores desertion, disaffection, and disloyalty in the South Carolina interior. A spate of unauthorized absence from some military units and frustrations with the war at home led to a problem with disaffection and desertion emerging in the hilly and mountainous fringe along the state’s border with North Carolina during the summer and early fall of 1863. Concerned by this development, the authorities dispatched anti-deserter expeditions to the affected region. Though disturbances caused by recalcitrant deserters in and around the Blue Ridge Mountains would never be fully eradicated, these expeditions were generally effective at restoring order. This outcome warrants emphasis for it is revealing. Similar efforts elsewhere in the Civil War South tended to produce limited results at best or cycles of retaliatory violence at worst, but the relative success of these expeditions suggests that the dispatched troops needed only to reassert Confederate authority, not impose it by force on communities that were either completely out of heart with the war or never bought into the Confederate nation in the first place. This chapter also considers the small, isolated, though quite often impactful networks of dissent that could be found in some parts of the state.
Drawing from the memoirs of Edmond Fuchs and Emile Sarran – two French geologists sent by the French government to Tonkin in the 1880s to conduct mining expeditions – this chapter reconstructs their geological mission and examines their ecological and geological findings about the Quảng Yên coal basin in Tonkin. The chapter also underscores several limitations and inconsistencies in the French geological findings, including Fuchs’ overoptimistic assessment of the industrial and military applications of Tonkinese coal, Sarran’s inflated estimates of Tonkin’s coal reserves, and their omission of the impact of environmental factors on future large-scale coal mining activities in Tonkin. It argues that these scientific limits resulted from logistical and topographical challenges encountered by the geologists in Tonkin. It further posits that the immense pressure imposed by both the French government and the French Ministry of the Navy and Colonies was likely a contributing factor, since it was necessary for the geologists’ missions to demonstrate how the discovery of Tonkinese coal could help strengthen French industrial might and imperial ambitions in Asia.
Historians of US foreign relations have much to gain by incorporating some of the methodological interventions made by scholars of race and Ethnic Studies. Drawing on research on US–Caribbean and US–Central American relations, this chapter tackles the following questions: What does it mean to study race as a central component, and not just a byproduct of US foreign relations? How does race appear in and outside of government archives? And what are some assumptions that require reassessment to ensure that US foreign relations scholars are not using –race– as a mere descriptor of –other–? A core component of the chapter is its combined use of field-specific observations and personal reflections amassed over the course of twenty years of research and writing. It does not propose one unified meaning of “race,” nor one specific method for examining race as an idea and practice. Instead, it maps out how the fields of African Diaspora Studies and Critical Ethnic Studies have expanded our understandings of racialization and racial formation, provides examples of effective approaches that draw from specific events and published works, outlines questions to ask before, during, and after conducting research, and invites researchers to recognize how archives function as racialized spaces.
By the time the Great War reached an armistice in 1918, travel companies, publishers, and even tire manufacturers had compiled guidebooks for tourists interested in visiting the battlefields of the Western Front. Using the three-volume Michelin Illustrated Guides to the Battlefields (1920) as primary texts, this essay argues that the various maps embedded in these books were instrumental in converting American tourists into what David W. Lloyd would term “pilgrims” – those who would visit these hallowed war-torn sites and emerge from the experience with a greater level of spiritual transcendence. To this end, then, maps were facilitators of the mourning process, even framing or formatting the way in which surviving loved ones could express their grief to themselves and to the outside world. Once pilgrims arrived at the American cemeteries in Europe, they entered a space whose design was so geometrical and exact that it took on a remarkable resemblance to the very guidebook maps that had led them there. In achieving a 1:1 scale with the landscapes they represented, these maps offered a multivalent, transcendent experience whereby mourners could be emotionally and spiritually immersed in that hallowed terrain where their soldiers fell and would remain.
Podcasting, with its focus on voices, remains a compelling topic for African studies research, which has historically put orality at the center of the field. Recognizing sparse audience inclusion in existing research on African podcasting, the authors conducted focus groups with listeners in urban Ghana to document consumption practices and attitudes toward this form of new orality. Using the concept “deep listening” drawn from participant comments, the researchers theorize that listeners and producers experience a form of sound-mediated, affective resonance from podcasts that utilize audience collaboration and local sonic aesthetics, linking the affordances of openness and freedom to the medium.
This article is a case study of the Kasarani Stadium in Kenya as a heuristic through which to understand President Daniel Arap Moi’s political style and priorities during the first decade of his regime. Drawing primarily from national and international newspapers, the archives of national and international sporting organizations and associations, records of the Kenyan government and biographies of Moi, I explore how Moi gave political meaning to sport to advance his populist politics at home and project Kenya on(to) the international stage. At home, he used sports to define himself as a leader of the ordinary mwananchi (citizen), in touch with the experiences, challenges, and visions of the common Kenyan. Internationally, he used sports to chart Kenya’s foreign policy and fashion himself as an international political personality. The article concludes that the study of sports and sporting infrastructure offers a productive way to write social, political, and cultural histories of postcolonial Africa.