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The Western conception of haunting in literature typically evokes images of ghosts and other spirits entering our physical plane as a sign of some spiritual or emotional disruption. However, in a marked difference, African, African American and Caribbean cultures and spiritual traditions conceive of hauntings, both ancestral and otherwise, as part of their historical and contemporary epistemology. This essay considers hauntings in the works of African, African American, and Caribbean literature as serving as a bulwark against modernity with its attendant racism, capital exploitation and environmental devastation for colonised people and their descendants in the modern world. Examining short stories by Chinua Achebe, Henry Dumas, and Shani Mootoo demonstrates the multiple ways that African-based spiritual traditions decenter traditional western notions of haunting while simultaneously demonstrating the potential corrective possibilities of these traditions in a rapidly deteriorating and increasingly pernicious world for colonised peoples.
This chapter attends to the legacies of Indian Ocean migrations in Indian contexts, where nationalist politics also underwent a process of conflating national identity with not just territory, but with women as integral to that territorial sense of nationhood. Specifically, it examines queer desire and the gendered construction of the nation through Mauritian writer Ananda Devi’s novel Indian Tango (2007). Devi rewrites Satyajit Ray’s cinematic adaptation (1984) of Rabindranath Tagore’s influential national allegory Ghare-Bāire (The Home and the World) (1916) from a transnational queer feminist perspective. Examining the novel’s intertextual relationship with Tagore’s text, Ray’s film, and early twentieth century anti-indenture discourses, the chapter argues that Devi reorients feminine desire towards an erotic autonomy that reimagines diasporic affiliation and challenges the control of female sexuality within the heterosexual family as the basis of the nation. The assertion of diasporic connection through female erotic autonomy doubly deconstructs the Indian nationalist subject defined through the exclusion of the diasporic other as well as the queer female other.
In Tongoane v National Minister for Agriculture and Land Affairs, the Constitutional Court of South Africa ruled that the government’s attempt to regulate property in traditional communities through the Communal Land Rights Act (CLARA) was unconstitutional. It emphasised that traditional land was already governed by indigenous ‘living law’ and CLARA sought to replace this vernacular law, a system evolved over time, with legislation. This highlighted the presence of indigenous law predating colonialism, challenging colonial notions like ‘lex nullius’ (no law) and ‘terra nullius’ (empty land), which denied indigenous Africans their rights. This chapter argues that South Africa’s post-apartheid constitutional vision fails to fully recognise and integrate this vernacular law, undermining true transformation, and instead advocates for ‘Alter-Native Constitutionalism’, which would amalgamate ‘customary’, ‘common’ and vernacular law to reflect the realities and normative convictions of most South Africans. This approach aims to rectify historical injustices and create a more just legal system, rooted in indigenous values and addressing social and economic inequities. Explicating the indigenously feminist decolonising concept of Alter-Native Constitutionalism, the chapter calls for reconstitution of South Africa’s legal framework and content to give full voice to indigenous world-sense and law-sense, advocating a shift away from Eurocentric logics and norms.
Colonial Caregivers offers a compelling cultural and social history of ayahs (nannies/maids), by exploring domestic intimacy and exploitation in colonial South Asia. Working for British imperial families from the mid-1700s to the mid-1900s, South Asian ayahs, as Chakraborty shows, not only provided domestic labor, but also provided important moral labor for the British Empire. The desexualized racialized ayah archetype upheld British imperial whiteness and sexual purity, and later Indian elite 'upper' caste domestic modernity. Chakraborty argues that the pervasive cultural sentimentalization of the ayah morally legitimized British colonialism, while obscuring the vulnerabilities of caregivers in real-life. Using an archive of petitions and letters from ayahs, fairytales they told to British children, court cases, and vernacular sources, Chakraborty foregrounds the precarious lives, voices, and perspectives of these women. By placing care labor at the center of colonial history, the book decolonizes the history of South Asia and the British Empire.
Recent scholarship locates the origins of modern free trade policies in the early modern free port movement. This historiography has focused on the intellectual and political history of free ports and emphasized the importance of local and regional factors in shaping trade liberalizations in different European countries and colonies. Based on evidence from eighteenth-century Hamburg, this article proposes a different reading: it argues that free trade policies emerged in response to Atlantic trade expansion. The sources suggest that merchants and magistrates were aware of the monumental change which the growth of the Atlantic trade presented and the economic opportunities it provided. The liberalization of individual ports aimed to capture a greater share of that commerce. Free ports therefore constitute an early example of global economic change driving local European policymaking.
Between 1898 and 1923, a series of disputes erupted among fishing communities in the British Gold Coast Colony (modern-day Ghana) following the introduction of larger and more productive sea fishing nets. All along the coast, fishers debated the environmental and economic consequences of adopting the nets, which debates shifted across African and colonial forums. Focusing on these disputes, this article interrogates the ways in which sites of fishing innovations and experimentation became sites of intense conflict and negotiation throughout the Gold Coast Colony as different groups debated and contested technological change. In the process, voices advocating for caution within the fishing industry were effectively marginalised through the manoeuvring of net advocates while the introduction of colonial arbitration within the realm of fisheries offered new challenges to the authority of African leaders within the marine space.
Building on untapped archival documents and press reports, I explore a seeming contradiction underpinning the Israeli authorities’ War on Drugs from the late 1950s to the early 1980s. While the state authorities clamped down on local cannabis users, it was heavily invested in covert cannabis trafficking operations into Egypt, its main enemy at the time. The primary targets of the domestic clampdown were the country’s Jewish consumers of the drug, mainly first- and second-generation Jewish immigrants from the Middle East and North Africa (collectively known as Mizrahim). Provoking latent class, racial, and gendered anxieties, the state authorities used hashish to further marginalize and criminalize Mizrahim in Israel. However, while the state cracked down on Mizrahi hashish dealers and users, the Israeli military was directly involved in large-scale hashish trafficking operations to Egypt. This enterprise aimed to immerse and immobilize the Egyptian population generally—and the Egyptian armed forces specifically—with hashish.
To gain a fuller understanding of modern Mizrahi literature, it must be examined against the background of the literary systems in which Jews in the Arab, Muslim, and Ottoman world operated in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, and the diverse paths via which these systems developed in the Middle East and North Africa, based on their various linguistic, cultural, and political relations and interactions with the Arab awakening (Al-Nahḍa), the Jewish enlightenment (Haskalah), the European enlightenment, French and British colonialism, local nationalism and Zionism, and modern Arab and Hebrew literatures. Under the decisive influence of the new world orders created by colonialism and nationalism, this period saw far-reaching changes in Jewish literature in the Arab, Muslim, and Ottoman world. It may be profitable to view all those connections as part of the process via which Mizrahi literature was formed. Due to its many areas of interaction with various literatures, it began or was created repeatedly, in different ways that reflect its diversity. Only by looking at the whole is it possible to avoid narrowing the narrative of modern Mizrahi literature to a single perspective or single process.
Corruption became a problem in Hong Kong as the colonial state extended its reach over a bustling entrepôt economy. Shifting boundaries separating the public and the private marked traditional norms of gift-giving and reciprocity as problematic. In the second half of the twentieth century, British officials saw corruption as a “Chinese” problem. This culturalist thesis was disembedded: It discounted the racialized hierarchy of colonial governance and overlooked the embeddedness of corruption within its power structure. Yet the cultural thesis was a visible ideological support that justified the rule of difference. This racialized structure was momentarily upended in 1973, when Peter Godber, a senior British police officer, fled Hong Kong while under investigation for taking bribes. The scandal led to the creation of the Independent Commission Against Corruption (ICAC), an independent unit that supposedly stood outside of the racialized organization of the police. Through a reading of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office’s declassified correspondence, this chapter argues that, while the ICAC was an independent unit that tackled corruption, it remained embedded within the broader racialized structure that defined colonialism. Though misleading and sociologically naïve, the culturalist thesis of corruption can be and is often ideologized to justify colonial domination.
This chapter studies the controversy that led to the founding of East India Company College as a training institute for future administrators of British India. Governor-General Richard Wellesley’s unilateral decision in 1798 to establish a mandatory training college at Fort William, Calcutta, for all new recruits of the East India Company precipitated a conflict that embroiled the Court of Directors of the Company and the parliamentary Board of Control. I show that the language of corruption in this imperial context was transformed from accusations of personal enrichment to questions regarding procedural propriety, institutional overreach, and cultural difference. The Court of Directors could not refute Wellesley’s claim that Company civil servants were poorly trained. Nor did they wish to lose control over their prerogative of hiring personnel or determining the ideal qualities of an effective imperial administrator. They resolved instead to found East India College at Haileybury, formalizing a new imperial bureaucracy.
The Introduction sets the scene for the book’s chapters and analysis. On the northern periphery of Nairobi, in southern Kiambu County, the city’s expansion into a landscape of poor smallholders is bringing new opportunities, dilemmas, and conflicts. Profoundly shaped by Kenya’s colonial history, Kiambu’s ‘workers with patches of land’ struggle to sustain their households while the skyrocketing price of land ratchets up gendered and generational tensions over their meagre plots, with consequences for class futures. Land sale by senior men turns would-be inheritors, their young adult sons, into landless and land-poor paupers, heightening their exposure to economic precarity. The Introduction sets out how these dynamics are lived at the site of kinship, and how moral principles of patrilineal obligation and land retention fail in the face of market opportunity. Within this context, the Introduction sets out the book’s exploration of how Kiambu’s young men struggle to sustain hopes for middle-class lifestyles as the economic ground shifts beneath their feet.
This chapter aims to provide an introductory account of conceptions of natural rights in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. That is, of how human beings were considered to hold certain rights by virtue of their human nature or as conferred by natural law. It will show how conceptions of natural rights differed, as embedded in different theoretical frameworks, and were put to different political, social, and religious uses. At the same time, in several instances conceptions of natural right were used ‘in action’ in similar ways, despite the different theological or philosophical frameworks in which they were imbedded. Despite differences, then, early modern conceptions of natural rights shared some features, and were put to uses, that may seem counterintuitive to the modern reader.
Chapter 1 introduces the region of Kiambu in detail, establishing the stakes of moral debate over wealth amongst men in the region. While an older generation preaches the labour ideology (the notion that hard work will bring success) that allowed them to prosper in the aftermath of independence, it has been undermined by dwindling land holdings and opportunities for ‘off-farm income’, creating a crisis of hopelessness as young men wonder if they will ever reach the ‘level’ of their elders. Framing the study of masculine destitution to follow, the chapter discusses the legacies of the ‘Kenya Debate’, a regional debate in political economy about the relative prosperity of Kenya’s peasantry after independence. It argues for a processual, non-static approach to economic change in central Kenya, allowing us to see how class divides have been opened across generations due to population pressure on land. Its subdivision within families exerts stronger pressure on young family members who find themselves in the situation of being virtual paupers – land poor and ‘hustling’ for cash.
This article explores the condition of Indian indentured women labourers on the colonial plantations of Fiji and Natal (now in South Africa) in order to understand the complexities of life in a radically different society and production regime. Opposed to the sources used by scholars to document the women under indenture, such as colonial documents, official reports, and writings of reporters, which have limitations of objective portrayal, this article uses the labourers’ petitions, depositions, and letters written largely in Indian languages either by women or men, individually or collectively, to different authorities. This is a source that has rarely been used hitherto to understand the plantation regime in terms of gender violence, sexuality, and patriarchy. Through a close reading of these letters and petitions and an examination of the conditions of their production and their reception by the colonial authorities, the article argues that plantations, as a radically different space, became a site of the violent struggle between women’s agency and Indian patriarchy in the process of reproduction of cultural selves away from the ‘home’. It further argues that by facilitating both women’s agency and male control, rather than taking an outright side, the colonial state created a space where both freedom and oppression coexisted, often leading to violent outcomes.
In 1615, a Dutch fleet under the command of Joris van Spilbergen attacked the Mexican port of Acapulco. The port was the eastern terminus of the Manila galleons, the ships that linked Asia and the Americas during the early modern period. In the face of foreign incursion, Spanish officials in Mexico proposed to secure transpacific trade by constructing the Fort of San Diego to protect Acapulco. To build and later repair the fort, they mobilized thousands of Indigenous men through the repartimiento (rotational forced labour system) from what is now the Mexican state of Guerrero. Using the port’s accounting records, this article argues that the novelty of transpacific empire profoundly affected the social and economic lives of Mexico’s coastal and hinterland Indigenous peoples. However, the global histories of the Manila galleons and of early modern Asia–Latin American connections have overlooked the relationship between Spanish Pacific expansion and Indigenous labour in the Americas. Placing the fort’s Indigenous builders at the centre reveals not only the violent outcomes of imperial anxiety, but also how Indigenous people adapted to the advent of transpacific empire.
Drawing from Native American Studies, I explore how the LSA Statement on Race (2019) applies to Native Americans, who are unique among racial groups in the United States since ‘Native American’ is also a political status and tribes are nations. Focusing on the fundamental tenet of tribal critical race theory that colonization is endemic to society (Brayboy 2005), I argue that the ways in which Native American languages are represented in linguistic scholarship reflects colonial norms, which also guide the severe underrepresentation of Native Americans in the discipline. Integrating these ideas into antiracist frameworks facilitates social justice in linguistic science.
Although it has gained wide currency in the analysis of African politics, civil society remains a “mysterious” concept in need of proper grounding and understanding as an integral part of African social formation. This paper argues that one of the widely acclaimed canonical works in African studies, Peter Ekeh’s theory of colonialism and the two publics in Africa provides one of the most original perspectives for locating and understanding the character of modern civil society as a product of colonialism. In particular, the theory provides an explanation for why primordial attachments have remained fundamental to the structuration of civil society and why state–civil society relations have largely been fractured, instrumentalist, and dialectical in the post-colonial period.
Despite growing interest in African civil society and the enduring legacy of colonialism, studies on this theme with a historical perspective are still few. This article analyses the evolution of associational life in Luanda from its origins in the mid-nineteenth century until the decolonisation in 1974. It is based on a complete census of the officially recognised bylaws, which confirmed that formal associationism was exclusive to settlers and a minority of ‘assimilated’ natives. Modern associations among the ‘detribalised’ urban populations, never recognised by the colonial authorities, were considered by analysing ethnographic research. Historical empirical evidence sustains the idea that the colonial encounter determinately shaped civil society and the public sphere, determining the inequality in access and exercise of citizenship while illustrating the strategies used by native people to overcome legal and political constraints to associationism.
Drawing from decolonizing and Indigenous research methodologies, I examine field linguistic training in US linguistics programs and how it approaches collaborative language research. I argue that the current praxis still reflects a linguist-focused model resulting in linguistic extraction (Davis 2017). I provide three recommendations for transforming linguistic field methods training: (i) the recognition of linguistics as a discipline rooted in colonization and the implications of this for speakers/community members, (ii) the incorporation and explicit discussion of language research frameworks that include Indigenous research methodologies, and (iii) the recognition and valorization of Indigenous epistemologies via decolonizing ‘language’ (Leonard 2017).
On the northern periphery of Nairobi, in southern Kiambu County, the city's expansion into a landscape of poor smallholders is bringing new opportunities, dilemmas, and conflicts. Drawing on extensive ethnographic fieldwork, Peter Lockwood examines how Kiambu's 'workers with patches of land' struggle to sustain their households as the skyrocketing price of land ratchets up gendered and generational tensions within families. The sale of ancestral land by senior men turns would-be inheritors, their young adult sons, into landless and land-poor paupers, heightening their exposure to economic precarity. Peasants to Paupers illuminates how these dynamics are lived at the site of kinship, how moral principles of patrilineal obligation and land retention fail in the face of market opportunity. Caught between joblessness, land poverty and the breakdown of kinship, the book shows how Kiambu's young men struggle to sustain hopes for middle-class lifestyles as the economic ground shifts beneath their feet.This title is also available as open access on Cambridge Core.