This essay explores debates over political membership and rights within empire from the interwar British Caribbean. Although no formal status of imperial, British, or colonial citizenship existed in this era, British Caribbeans routinely hailed each other as meritorious local “citizens,” demanded political rights due them as “British citizens,” and decried rulers' failure to treat colored colonials equally with other “citizens” of the empire. In the same years, the hundreds of thousands of British West Indians who labored in circum-Caribbean republics like the United States, Panama, Cuba, Venezuela, and Costa Rica experienced firsthand the international consolidation of formal citizenship as a state-issued credential ensuring mobility and abode. This convergence pushed British Caribbeans at home and abroad to question the costs of political disfranchisement and the place of race within empire. The vernacular political philosophy they developed in response importantly complements the influential theories of citizenship and rights developed by European thinkers of the same generation, such as T. H. Marshall and Hannah Arendt.

The New Zealand Wars of the 1860s have traditionally been associated with the popularity of antagonistic racial discourses and the growing influence of scientific racism. Building upon recent research into the resonance of humanitarian racial discourses in this period, this article reconsiders the experience of Governor Thomas Gore Browne during the Taranaki War, 1860–61. The Taranaki War was a global news event that precipitated fierce debates within both New Zealand and Great Britain over the war's origins and the rights of indigenous Maori. This article reveals how both Browne and his wartime critics defined themselves as the true defenders of Maori rights. This general usage of humanitarian racial discourses was encouraged by perceptions of metropolitan surveillance, New Zealand's prominence within networks of imperial communication, and an onus to administrate Maori with justice.

This article analyzes the literary, theatrical, and film versions of E. W. Hornung's fictional “gentleman” burglar Raffles produced between 1898 and 1939. It argues that the character functioned as a nexus for the articulation of a pleasure culture surrounding burglary, highlighting how approbatory and sexualized versions of burglars pervaded popular and official discourse in Britain and, through the character's commercial success, throughout Europe and America. Depictions of Raffles's triumphs over law and order invited successive audiences to vicariously test, and transgress, the legal, social, cultural, political, gendered, and economic constraints of everyday life. As newspapers labelled real-life burglars “Raffles,” both criminologists and criminals around the globe appropriated this title to refashion burglars as glamorous celebrity personae through academic texts and autobiographies. This article thus demonstrates how notions of respectable masculinity were challenged by sympathetic portrayals of burglars fostered under the “new” journalism, human interest journalism, and the true-crime genre of entertainment.

This article makes three points about the death throes of convict transportation. First, the quarrel over transportation shows the double-edged nature of the moral critique of empire in the early Victorian era. Metropolitan criticism of transportation had its roots in the same effort to moralize the empire that was seen in the almost contemporaneous assault on slavery. But transportation was deemed too convenient a means of getting rid of criminals for Britons safely to do without it. Second, the Whig government of 1846–52 sought to save transportation by moralizing the convict before shipping him off. By this point, however, the moral objections to transportation in eastern Australia had become so strong as to make the plan untenable. Third, colonial opposition to transportation ultimately left the British government with no choice but to replace it with penal servitude at home, and the debate over crime and punishment that played out over the next decade revealed a waning of faith in convict rehabilitation that manifested itself in a harsher prison regime. In necessitating the rise of penal servitude, the end of transportation makes it clear that the empire mattered very much indeed to the reshaping of British penal policy in the mid-Victorian era.