Whether taken as literal phenomena or as loose semantic suggestions, ghosts make their mark on virtually every piece of Bowen’s writing. This chapter focuses on the more suggestive ghostliness that spans her oeuvre by way of the threat and realities of a haunting dispossession. Her treatment of dispossession uncannily exposes a relation between the social and the physical or the public and the private. Embodied, subjectively lived experience conjoins with the forces of history, ideas, and conventions. In forging these relationships, the always unsettling crises of modern dispossession at the heart of Bowen’s work articulate her astute theory of historical change and the problem of historical accountability in the aftermath of traumatic events. This essay proposes two ideas – claustrophobia and flight – for thinking about ghostly dispossession in her short stories and novels. The unviable past makes itself known through an unsettling claustrophobia, and those who have been dispossessed and find no workable alternative haunt in their turn, projecting ghostliness into the future via the urge to flee. No one escapes the effects of dispossession, making it, for Bowen, the condition of twentieth-century modernity.

Chapter 6 examines the late homesteading that took place after 1890. This latter period was the largest in terms of acres and number of homestead patents.

Chapter 6 aims to construct a future-looking theoretical framework for handling cultural objects for which questions of past illegality and/or illegitimacy arise but where a potential claimant – whether an individual, a community, or a source nation – is unable to pursue formal legal proceedings against the current possessor, and the relevant law enforcement agencies cannot equally pursue criminal, administrative, or public law proceedings. Accordingly, the chapter seeks to identify normative principles for dealing with the issue of “restitution” (broadly defined) that operates outside the realm of hard-law norms and institutions. It starts by examining the key aspects of the institutional/procedural and normative principles of the restitution committees established in certain European countries and tasked with the development and implementation of “just and fair solutions” to address Holocaust-era wrongful dispossessions. It then considers whether “just and fair solutions” can be devised for other contexts and, if so, how legalistic ethical reasoning could be adapted for these settings. The focus then shifts to the case study of France and its complex approach to the restitution of colonial-era objects to African source countries. The chapter then examines the various remedial mechanisms that are in operation, or that can be developed, to apply such normative principles to broader contexts of addressing past wrongs, including long-term loans, digital restitution, and the establishment of cross-border trusts to enable the joint custody and stewardship of collections. The chapter, and the book, conclude by addressing the role of such a normative blueprint, aligned with the concept of new cultural internationalism, in moving toward the convergence of law, policy, and markets for cultural property.

This chapter examines the profound influence of settler colonialism in mid eighteenth-century North America, a period marked by the American Revolution and the birth of a new nation. Unlike other forms of colonialism, settler colonialism aimed at the deliberate erasure of Indigenous histories and cultures, seeking to establish a permanent non-Indigenous society on Indigenous lands. This process, driven by land hunger, religious fervor, and European imperial competition, has left deep legacies of dispossession, violence, and socioeconomic disparities. The American Revolution is analyzed as a “settler uprising” — a dual resistance against British policies and a pivotal moment in settler colonialism. The role of settler colonialism and its global implications are critical to comprehending the Revolution and its enduring effects.

This chapter offers a broad overview of violence during the Revolutionary War. As an eighteenth-century war, it had elements common to all conflicts during this period, such as plunder, rape, and the impressment of supplies. But the Revolution also had several unique features that heightened violence. As a war of independence, it created questions of legitimacy between combatants, because the conflict pitted British regulars, Loyalists, and Revolutionaries against one another. Each side in the war also had many layers of command, including regular soldiers, militia, and Indigenous warriors, making cohesion and restraint more difficult. Lastly, African Americans and Native Americans were central actors in the war, and racial difference loosened limitations on violence. All together, these factors created a volatile situation in which violence thrived. The Revolutionary War was a fundamentally violent event that disrupted lives, the social order, causing pain, suffering, and trauma.

This chapter compares the early and middle encounter periods in eastern Canada to the ninteenth-century encounters in Australia and British Columbia. The chapter documents two distinct approaches to Indigenous land rights taken by the British Crown, with important implications for dispossession and recognition and reclamation of land rights. Because valid title to real property in eastern Canada primarily rested on good title from an original Indigenous seller, Indigenous rights to land were largely honored. Precisely the opposite situation played out in the west, where valid setter title turned on the complete erasure of Indigenous interests in the land. This was accomplished through the Torrens system of land-title registration, which erased Indigenous land rights in ways unimaginable to colonists along the east coast of the Americas where English law treated Indigenous lands as cognizable property interests. The chapter then focuses on the contemporary distribution of land rights in British Columbia to illuminate the continuing effects of the Torrens system of land-title registration on Indigenous land rights.

Land and forests are integral to India’s Adivasi (Indigenous) Peoples. Lands provide sustenance and livelihoods, are a symbol of social status and dignity, and are central to the Adivasi “philosophy of life.” This chapter analyzes the various nuances of Adivasi land rights in India. It discusses the Adivasi land tenure systems, legal measures for protecting and allocating land, land holding patterns, the nature and scale of Adivasi land dispossession, and the strategies that the Adivasis have adopted to advance and safeguard their land rights. It is argued that, despite constitutional and statutory provisions and various policy measures to protect, promote, and secure Adivasi land rights, they increasingly experience land dispossession in different forms – reflecting an “implementation gap” in practice. This chapter concludes with recommendations for safeguarding Adivasi land rights, such as collaboration between Adivasi movements and civil society organizations, consistent governance measures for different land rights regimes (such as Sixth Schedule in Fifth Schedule Areas), and independent monitoring agencies to maintain accountability on land rights duties.

In chapter one, Brian Ó Conchubhair offers an examination of the metadiscourse “Revival” as a concept and the relation between revivalism and periodization. Narratives of revival too often repeat inaccurate narratives of Irish culture, to the point that our understanding of the Irish past, of Irish institutions and landscapes, suffers from unexamined conclusions about the Revival’s social and political efficacy and from images and tropes of Irishness that modern critics inherited from early revivalists. This is particularly apparent in the conception, promoted by some early revivalists, of the West of Ireland as a site of authentic Irishness. Indeed, in the Gaeltachtaí (Irish speaking regions), which have long been idealized as a stronghold of original or pure Irishness, a kind of zombification has taken place, one that in some ways displaces the long tradition of antiquarian and archaeological projects of cultural renewal and restoration.

A central concept of environmental justice is some populations’ disproportionate vulnerability to environmental pollution. This chapter contextualizes that vulnerability by articulating two racialized assignments of political power in the US Constitution and tracing those assignments to two contemporary racialized property relationships: redlining and allotment.

Chapter 4 is about the fate of the families whose land the military regime’s big reservoirs flooded. It covers the twenty-year period from the late 1970s to the late 1990s, when reservoir floodwaters expelled farmers and Indigenous communities from their homes, sending them to uncertain fates. This chapter argues that the military government mostly ignored the social costs of its big dams because it felt pressure to build them quickly and cheaply and becuase it believed its pharaonic environmentalism would satisfy its critics. The military regime provided scant resources to help displaced communities transition to new homes and unfamiliar subsistence practices, and many were left to start anew with almost no financial compensation. For the generals, it helped that most of these people were poor and from racially marginalized groups that had little political clout. Nevertheless, organizations and community leaders associated with the Catholic Church – then under the influence of liberation theology – helped organize dispossessed communities, some of whom succeeded in earning more just compensation.

This chapter meditates on how Black erotic bodies manifest in a white supremacist world. It contends that said bodies congeal through an amalgamation of fungible gender and material/discursive dispossession. These inheritances afford Black people the opportunity to conjure fugitive freedom practices, such as multiplicity, which enable Black people to harness erotic power in the pursuit of self-determined notions of pleasure and intimacy with themselves and within Black communities. To buttress my argument, I draw on the work of Akwaeke Emezi – namely, their debut novel Freshwater and an essay about their gender transition surgeries – and Audre Lorde’s classic essay, “The Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power,” to illustrate how multiplicity is a freedom practiced undergirded by erotic power such that practitioners need not minimize or eliminate contradictory or complex aspects of themselves in order to access pleasure and intimacy along personal and interpersonal registers.

Volume 2 of The Cambridge History of Global Migrations presents an authoritative overview of the various continuities and changes in migration and globalization from the 1800s to the present day. Despite revolutionary changes in communication technologies, the growing accessibility of long-distance travel, and globalization across major economies, the rise of nation-states empowered immigration regulation and bureaucratic capacities for enforcement that curtailed migration. One major theme worldwide across the post-1800 centuries was the differentiation between “skilled” and “unskilled” workers, often considered through a racialized lens; it emerged as the primary divide between greater rights of immigration and citizenship for the former, and confinement to temporary or unauthorized migrant status for the latter. Through thirty-one chapters, this volume further evaluates the long global history of migration; and it shows that despite the increased disciplinary systems, the primacy of migration remains and continues to shape political, economic, and social landscapes around the world.

For most West Central African rulers, land was central to subsistence agriculture, meeting their population needs as well as guaranteeing access to future generations. Chapter 6 traces the discussion about land ownership, examining legal changes and the centrality of paper culture for its commodification. The chapter begins by stressing the role of twentieth-century jurists and colonial officers in defending the idea that no notion of possession and individual ownership ever existed in Africa, while simultaneously creating the narrative that individual property had always existed in Europe. Despite earlier evidence that demonstrates a clear perception of occupation and jurisdiction rights among local rulers and West Central Africans, jurists, missionaries, and later, anthropologists and historians claimed that such rights did not exist, emphasizing the centrality of wealth in people, not in land, as forms of accumulation and wealth. In many ways, ethnographers, jurists, and scholars provided evidence to support colonial claims and ideologies that non-Europeans were incapable of apprehending and protecting the basic concept of ownership. This has had lasting consequences on the scholarship on wealth and accumulation in Africa. The refusal to recognize West Central African possession rights sustained colonialism and legitimated occupation and alienation of land and other resources.

Chapter 2 focuses on the fixing and transformation of property rights during the nineteenth century. Possession claims and inheritance practices change over time, and in many ways the available historical evidence hid these changes, reprojecting a nineteenth-century understanding of land regimes. The imposition of land titles and land charts crystallized processes that were fluid until then. Yet the long list of vassalage treaties, inventories, and disputes between African rulers, their neighbors, and the Portuguese analyzed in the chapter provides a clear example of how all actors engaged in a continued negotiation over possession, jurisdiction, rights, and claims. The Portuguese misunderstandings about land use and rights are examined in detail, exploring the consequences for African historiography.

The history of wealth accumulation and dispossession in Angola has been intertwined with the consolidation of liberal notions of progress, private property rights, land enclosure, and civilization. This is not a history of progress, but an account of dismantling – dismantle of communal rights and values that ordered societies. West Central African societies did not move progressively from one type of wealth, in people, to private property. In fact, West Central African communities valued both: territory and kinship. Wealth in people cannot exist in isolation from land control. An alternative interpretation of the past is necessary, moving away from earlier arguments that placed West Central Africans as primitive or backward and reifying colonialism and land grabbing. This is an effort to problematize recent interpretations of the Angolan past that understood territorial occupation, population removals, and dispossession as inevitable. As it is clear in local archives, West Central Africans valued land since 1600 – perhaps even earlier.