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During the Nigerian Civil War, France became the main supplier of military assistance to the secessionist Biafra. In a neo-imperial pursuit to weaken the potential regional hegemon Nigeria, it secretly provided arms and ammunition to the Biafrans in collusion with Côte d'Ivoire and Gabon. Yet the driving force behind this Franco-African arms triangle was not the Elysée, but the Ivorian president Félix Houphouët-Boigny. Newly unearthed documentary evidence from French archives enables this article to break new historiographical ground: firstly, to show the Elysée's sheer reluctance to militarily assist Biafra and lack of a coherent policy in doing so; secondly, to confirm Houphouët-Boigny as the “mastermind” behind the arming of Biafra, as well as to identify his Cold War motivations; thirdly, to uncover Gabonese president Omar Bongo's increasing agency and influence in the scheme; fourthly, to demonstrate that it was the Ivorian and Gabonese presidents who transformed the arms triangle into a square by bringing the Rhodesians and, especially, the South Africans in; and, finally, to retrace the emergence and functioning of the “African-French” military assistance to Biafra at the policy level not only from Paris's, but also Abidjan's and Libreville's perspectives.
This response to the comments on The Digital Factory discusses why and how the concepts of the digital factory and digital Taylorism have been applied in the book, as well as the question of the relationship between digital control and workers' resistance to algorithmic management technologies. While agreeing with the comments that point to the limitations of the concepts used, this response argues that these can be productive precisely by drawing our attention to aspects that are otherwise difficult to bring to light. In terms of the potential for workers' resistance, many collective and individual forms of such resistance remain possible in labour regimes under algorithmic management, as well as in other coexisting labour regimes.
Theories about the impact of digital technology on society and the development of capitalism and debates about the influence of digital information technologies on the future of work have been abundant since the end of the twentieth century. Most of the academic debate has taken place outside labour history, leaving the actual effects of digital technologies on human work and labour relations often overlooked. Moritz Altenried's The Digital Factory: The Human Labor of Automation focuses precisely on these effects, and as such provides a good opportunity to engage with these debates from a labour history perspective. This Review Dossier includes four comments on Altenried's book, by Bridget Kenny, Nico Pizzolato, Görkem Akgöz, and Greg Downey, to which the author responds. The contributors focus on different aspects of The Digital Factory depending on their own perspective on recent developments in the digital economy in the larger context of global capitalism.
This article describes John Wesley's evolving visions of Christian singleness (celibacy) and three commitments related to his changing views: a commitment to celibacy in an Oxford college; a commitment to marriage with Mary Vazeille; a de facto commitment to single life after Mary's separation from him. Protestant Churches lacked structures to support celibate commitment, structures that might have discouraged his unguarded and intimate correspondence with married women that lay behind his separation from Mary. The article asks why Protestants, although formally allowing single life, have not found ways to honour commitments to it.
During the Second World War, a number of manuscript fragments in Iranian languages from the Berlin Turfan collections were lost. Photographs of these fragments preserved in the Nachlass of Walter B. Henning bring to light their contents and fill gaps in the record of Turfan texts. These photographs are published here for the first time, together with a description of the fragments and their contents.
We consider the debut of a new monetary instrument, central bank digital currencies (CBDCs). Drawing on examples from monetary history, we argue that a successful monetary transformation must combine microeconomic efficiency with macroeconomic credibility. A paradoxical feature of these transformations is that success in the micro dimension can encourage macro failure. Overcoming this paradox may require politically uncomfortable compromises. We propose that such compromises will be necessary for the success of CBDCs.
In this article, I examine how the fear of miscegenation developed as a raison d’être for the construction and maintenance of apartheid. I argue that despite its efficacy at reproducing racial-caste formations, miscegenation taboo ultimately undermined its own hegemonic mythology by constructing contradictory erotic desires and subjectivities which could neither be governed nor contained. I consider how miscegenation fears and fantasies were debated in public discourse, enacted into law, institutionalized through draconian policing and punishment practices, culturally entrenched, yet negotiated and resisted through everyday intimacies. While crime statistics show that most incidences of interracial sex involved White men and women of color, the perceived threat to “White purity” was generally represented through images of White women—volks-mothers and daughters—in the Afrikaner nationalist iconography. White women’s wombs symbolized the future of “Whiteness.” This article offers a critique of the prevailing South African “exceptionalism” paradigm in apartheid studies. Detailed analyses of government commission reports (1939, 1984, 1985) and parliamentary debate records (1949) reveal considerable American influence on South Africa’s “petty apartheid” laws, and especially the Prohibition of Mixed Marriages Act (1949) and Immorality Amendment Act (1950). While these “cornerstone” policies of apartheid developed from local socio-political conflicts and economic tensions, they were always entangled in global racial formations, rooted in trans-oceanic histories of slavery, dispossession, and segregation. This historical anthropological study of race/sex taboo builds on interdisciplinary literatures in colonial history, sociology, postcolonial studies, literary theory, art history, cultural studies, feminist theory, queer studies, and critical race theory.
We examine how media reports influenced trading volumes and order imbalances on the Sydney Stock Exchange (SSX) from 1901 to 1950, focusing on wool market reports as a substitute for broader financial advice in the absence of a specialised investment press. Given wool's status as Australia's primary export and its integration with various sectors, we construct a weekly media sentiment index based on news about wool sales and auctions from the Sydney Morning Herald. Our findings reveal that positive news about the wool market correlates with increased trading volumes and reduced order imbalances on the SSX. This relationship persisted during significant events such as the UK government's wool purchase plans, the 1929 Wall Street Crash, World War II-related trading restrictions, and the short selling ban.
A growing body of literature is challenging techno-fetishistic perspectives on digital capitalism, as well as claims of the start of a new era characterized by total automation. This article contributes to the ongoing debate on the implications of digital technology for the future of labour by reading Moritz Altenried's The Digital Factory (2022) through the lens of labour history. The use of digital factory and digital Taylorism as integrative tools significantly improves empirical evaluations of different digital labour environments. However, because of their high degree of abstraction, there are a number of limitations when applying these concepts to describe wildly disparate work environments. To illustrate these limits, I use examples from twentieth-century debates on technology and work autonomy, and (1) argue that a labour history perspective warns us against overgeneralizing the effects of technology on labour control and worker autonomy, and (2) broaden the discussion to larger issues of labour control before and during digitalization, incorporating new theoretical questions such as our understanding of classical Taylorism and, by extension, capitalism.
The Height of the Dry Season, ‘Bathurst’, The Gambia, 1824.
I see her now! She's on the quayside, waiting to board. Tugging her hand is her youngest of nearly two, Eugenia Keir, wanting up into her mother's arms. Running around her bags and skirts despite the shimmering heat is her elder daughter, Tedlie Hutchison – named after her father's closest friends on his expedition to Ashantee (Asante) – and her son, Edward Hope Smith (after his great-uncle). Or so Tedlie told me, as part of her vaguely-remembered long sea journey in the summer of 1822. She was not yet three, and her brother was only six months old when the family had travelled from Paris to Le Havre, to board a ship bound for Lisbon. Once there, her parents had set out immediately to examine the local rocks, plants and animals. Then another big ship had taken them to Madeira. How seasick little Edward and she had been! She chattered about bougainvillea, banana and other trees they played amongst in the garden of their home for more than a year in Funchal, near the English Church and the houses of Mr Veitch the British Consul General, and of Mr and Mrs Keir, who had taken such an interest in her parents’ work. That was before the family set sail again last August, with Eugenia the new baby this time. When their ship reached Praia in the Cape Verde Islands, little Edward thought they had reached ‘Africa’ at last, only to learn that a further sea journey lay ahead to the Gambia, to the settlement the English called Bathurst (Banjul). They’ve been lodging here since November at Captain Findlay's residence at Government House, not far from the British garrison buildings, and the new hospital on St Mary's Island. Even Edward's little legs take him quickly to the long sandy Atlantic shore, dotted with its small fishing boats.
It's Captain Findlay talking to their mother, Mrs Sarah. She's the only English lady on the bustling quay, her dark dress and beribboned hat immediately standing out against the colourful melee of European and Gambian traders, including my many female compatriots in their finery, busy bartering, exchanging goods and instructing the porters in several languages.
The seeming hiatus of 12 years between Sarah's publication of Stories from Strange Lands (1835) and her first novel, The African Wanderers (1847), raises the stakes for the ‘continuance […] to completion’ (EM, inside title page) of her book-length ventures in expert natural history. Indeed the leanest period of their production, which Chapter 7 addresses, falls between final numbers for The Fresh-Water Fishes in 1838–1839 and Elements of Natural History (1844). The Introduction clarified how Sarah's regular publication of Gift Book stories from 1824 supported her family and new work in natural history to book-length result. Yet the marked change in this pattern is 1845 (see Appendix 1), between the Stories in 1835 and her first novel in 1847, and despite the former collection clearly and variously inspiring important episodes in the latter, as outlined below. Sarah had no further need of supporting Gift Book stories when, as Silke Strickrodt first contended, The African Wanderers was ‘one of the first novels in the English language, which is set in West Africa’, making its study part of the necessary redress of the ‘minimal attention so far paid to Sarah in the literature of English and African Studies’. Since Strickrodt did not elaborate further, this chapter investigates how The African Wanderers not only meets, but also exceeds these claims for it through its differently ‘equinoctial’ Humboldtian inspirations geographically and generically than were either the Excursions or the Stories from Strange Lands as discussed in Chapters 4 and 5. Of particular salience for Sarah's new departures in The African Wanderers in this chapter were the historical contexts that framed the writing of her first novel in 1847 and its immediate reception. Indeed as Chapter 3 disclosed for her Memoirs, the indicative lenses of an extensive initial review of The African Wanderers in 1848 provide similarly invaluable insights for how to read this novel in its own terms today, and within Sarah's multi-genre scientific corpus in the final decade of its major book-length production(s). Her reputation as a major writer of natural history was not in question. Rather the snapshot review of The African Wanderers in 1848 as ‘literature’ spearheads how this chapter differently argues for the work's ‘refit’ of natural history-making for Sarah's larger purposes.