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Following Napoleon’s final defeat at Waterloo in 1815, the victorious allies imposed 700 million francs of reparations on the French – around 10 per cent of GDP. To pay these, the Restoration developed the final element of the nineteenth-century French fiscal system: public credit, which the government modelled largely on that of Britain. With the payment of reparations, the Restoration reintegrated France into the international order, facilitating the stabilisation of Europe and thus that of France’s domestic politics. At the same time, Napoleonic conscription was overhauled, and replaced with a system of limited military service that lasted until the 1870s. Though often overlooked by historians, the Restoration therefore did much to facilitate the creation of a sustainable, stable post-revolutionary fiscal-military state.
While the foundations of the fiscal-military state changed little either side of 1830, the new Orleanist regime did much to extend the state’s developmental dimension. The government took responsibility for the development of the railway network, which entailed extensive public investment in the 1840s. In part, this extension of public works was motivated by a desire to manage the ‘social question’, the fear of a potentially subversive underclass; indeed, despite the limited extension of the franchise after 1830, the July Monarchy was attentive to public opinion. The desire for popular legitimation also pushed the regime to seek glory abroad through the conquest of Algeria, which entailed higher military expenditure, as did an international crisis in 1840. As under the Restoration, the growth of public expenditure was financed through credit, which enabled the government to avoid painful tax reforms, while increasing the numbers of people invested in public credit and thus with a stake in the social and political order.
The mid-1850s were years of economic boom, which gave way to a slump at the end of the decade. To maintain railway construction, the ongoing rebuilding of French cities and to counter economic malaise, government spending on public works rose. The regime also sought to stimulate the economy through fiscal reform; a trade treaty with Britain in 1860 formed part of a programme intended to reduce taxes and streamline the state. Affairs abroad, though, complicated this agenda. Profiting from the destabilisation of the international order that followed the Crimean War, France intervened militarily in support of Italian unification, while simultaneously seeking greater prestige through a policy of all-out global interventionism in the Middle and Far East and Mexico. The costs of interventionism abroad, combined with ongoing expenses in Algeria and on public works, eroded the regime’s latitude to lower taxes, straining the legitimacy of the fiscal system. Meanwhile, defeat in Mexico added to this discontent, producing a crisis of the fiscal-military system, which weakened the regime, easing its collapse in 1870 during the Franco-Prussian War.
Restored at the allies’ behest in 1814 and 1815, the Bourbons felt considerable pressure to bolster their legitimacy by asserting their nationalist credentials. Consequently, in the 1820s the French exploited the possibilities of public credit to finance a highly aggressive foreign policy, intervening in Spain in 1823, Greece in 1827–9 and Algeria in 1830. Thus, Restoration France became a quintessential fiscal-military state on the model of eighteenth-century Britain. Moreover, the growing French reliance on public credit stimulated the rise of the Paris Bourse as a major international financial centre. French governments thereby gained a new diplomatic tool that facilitated foreign government loans in Paris. The restored Bourbons also sought to use public credit to reinforce the regime by ‘closing the last wound of the Revolution’, compensating those who had lost property following the Revolution through the proceeds of a debt conversion. However, his idea proved highly controversial – though less because it would compensate formerly exiled aristocrats than because it would reduce the income of small rentiers and civic institutions with endowments invested in rentes.
Drawing on a wide range of archival and published documents, this book explains how the French Revolution of 1789 transformed the French state and its fiscal system, and how further reforms in the nineteenth century created a durable, post-revolutionary state. Instead of presenting the nineteenth-century French state as primarily the creation of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic era, as most scholars have done, Jerome Greenfield emphasises the importance of counter-revolution after 1815 in establishing a stable, durable state, capable of surviving revolutions in 1830 and 1848 intact. The years 1815–1870 thus marked a crucial period in the development of the French state, not least in stimulating the economic interventionism for which it become notorious and facilitating the resurgence of France as a great power after Napoleon's defeat at Waterloo.
Woman suffragists and labor activists continue to sing together, in more than one language, while, in Chicago, the Columbian Exposition of 1893 introduces a new musical genre – ragtime – to the world. Black composers and lyricists – Scott Joplin, Paul Laurence Dunbar, Will Marion Cook, Harry T. Burleigh, Bob Cole, and the brothers James Weldon and J. Rosamond Johnson – work to free themselves from the debasements of the “coon song.” Black operatic singers like Marie Selika Williams and Sissieretta Jones carve out their careers against the tide of popular minstrelsy. A strange new phenomenon – Filipinos in “coon songs” – reflects the latest muscle flex of US Manifest Destiny: the Spanish-American War and the acquisition of Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Philippines and – for good measure – Hawai’i, all richly captured in popular song. Lili’uokalani’s overthrow and Hawaiian annexation lead to two remarkable musical by-products of US imperialism: the infiltration of Puerto Rican kachi kachi music in Hawai’i and the unique work-song body – the hole hole bushi – of the Japanese plantation laborers – all women. Meanwhile, Tin Pan Alley has a field day with the newly seized territory, transforming a site of misery and loss into a popular music paradise with the likes of “Hula Hula Dream Girl,” “Along the Way to Waikiki,” and “Oh! How She Could Yacki Hacki Wiki Wacki Woo.”
This chapter resurrects notions of empire, associated with colonial and neo-colonial relations of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, with international investment law. Affinities with imperial legal forms are highlighted, drawing upon Mohammad Bedjaoui’s book-length intervention in support of the New International Economic Order. The chapter invokes the distinction between ‘formal’ and ‘informal’ empire and postulates that contemporary investment law exhibits affinities with informal empire but also reveals aspects of formal empire. The chapter highlights how contemporary legal rule constrains political capacity in the periphery as did imperial rule via formal and informal means. By interrogating investment law through the lens of empire, this chapter aims to reconnect law to politics in an age when imperial forms continue to proliferate.
Jeanne Morefield maintains that a truly democratic response to the crisis of liberal democracy requires citizens in the global North to embrace a radically reflective, deconstructive subjectivity that relentlessly calls into question the historical and contemporary shape of “the people” under consideration. To develop this subjective perspective, the chapter draws upon Edward Said’s notion of exilic criticism and compares it with contemporary liberal cosmopolitanism and left populism. Morefield explores the way this unhoused, unstable perspective enables contrapuntal engagement with those histories of imperialism, settler colonialism, and racialized logics of extraction and dispossession that went into the creation of modern liberal democratic states in the first place. Ultimately, she argues, it is only by reflecting on this constitutive history that citizens in the global North can create the kind of solidaristic, compassionate, and authentically democratic practices necessary to fight the rise of white nationalism and the decline of liberal democracy on a global scale.
This article examines state-society encounters in imperial Ethiopia through histories of exploitation and compromise. Focusing on the western province of Qellem, the article investigates Ethiopia's engagement with local rights claims over time, illustrating how the state was imagined, negotiated, and partially legitimated. The inherent incoherence within imperial state structures is traced back to the survival of nodes of indigenous power within territories conquered in the late nineteenth century. Peasant representatives, local elites, and Amhara governors and soldier-colonists engaged with the state to turn it to their benefit, or limit its excesses. Episodes of rebellion, withdrawal, and court arbitration punctuated a cycle of negotiation within which the role of the intermediary was key. Qellem experienced a state-making exercise that was contemporaneous with, and comparable to, the formation of European colonial states elsewhere on the continent. As such, this article provides a radical challenge to dominant historiographical perspectives on imperial Ethiopia.
In 1820, King Radama of Imerina, Madagascar signed a treaty allowing approximately one hundred young Malagasy to train abroad under official British supervision, the so-called 'Madagascar Youths'. In this lively and carefully researched book, Gwyn Campbell traces the Youths' untold history, from the signing of the treaty to their eventual recall to Madagascar. Extensive use of primary sources has enabled Campbell to explore the Madagascar Youths' experiences in Britain, Mauritius and aboard British anti-slave trade vessels, and their instrumental role in the modernisation of Madagascar. Through this remarkable history, Campbell examines how Malagasy-British relations developed, then soured, providing vital context to our understanding of slavery, mission activity and British imperialism in the nineteenth century.
This chapter explicates the diverse models scholars have developed to analyze cultural exchange in early modern material culture. With a focus on objects originating in Asia and Europe in the early modern period, the author considers environmental, cultural, technological, social, political, economic, and ideological approaches and factors
Chapter 13 of Earthopolis: A Biography of Our Urban Planet explores cities’ role as creators and creations of nineteenth-century imperialism in all of its forms. It shows how imperial rivalries between London, Paris, and Washington DC, the three most “liberal” capitals on Earth, led imperialists to invest in “gun cities,” where arms manufacturers used coal-fueled technologies to produce new guns, cannons, and battleships that ended the “Age of Parity” between the gunpowder empires of Afro-Eurasia. The city of Calcutta served as the pivot-point of the new era of European dominance, serving as headquarters of the British conquest of India, and later as key port to undermine the power of the Qing Dynasty in Beijing by means of shipments of opium into Guangzhou (Canton) that resulted in European “concessions” in key ports of East Asia. The chapter also demonstrates how the settler colonial conquest of the Americas relied upon and resulted in the proliferation of new cities across the continent. Finally it shows how the imperial Scramble for Africa relied on all of these city-enabled techniques. In most cases, European imperial officials deemed some form of segregation by “race” crucial to the effectiveness of their urban weapons of conquest and imperial rule.
This chapter outlines the conceptual framework used in the book. Contrary to understandings of revolution based on their outcomes – on which basis the uprisings of 2011 are excluded from the definition of revolutions – this chapter argues that only a more open definition can encompass the phenomenon of counter-revolution. Adopting instead the idea of a revolutionary situation, the chapter outlines different forms of counter-revolution as a project of preventing or turning back a revolution through closing a revolutionary situation. Counter-revolution, the chapter demonstrates, cannot rely solely on the elite of the old regime but requires a popular base as well as external support. To succeed, therefore, counter-revolutionaries must unite the ‘counter-revolution from above’, ‘counter-revolution from below’ and ‘counter-revolution from without.’ Yet the social basis of such alliances has changed. Whereas the classic forms of European and colonial counter-revolution relied upon agrarian classes (sometimes united with urban capitalists and the lower middle class) supported by external powers, post-1975 democratising political revolutions were characterised by the absence or acquiescence of such classes and the encouragement of a liberal international order under US dominance. The Arab uprisings, by contrast, faced competitive regional counter-revolutions waged by financial and security elites – bolstered by the inheritance of previous revolutions from above.
A broad evangelical consensus dominated American Protestantism in the first half of the 1800s, but the social and intellectual changes of the decades after the American Civil War began to fracture this consensus, creating debate over how to achieve the still agreed-upon goal of Protestantizing the nation. Social shifts included industrialization, urbanization, and immigration from non-Protestant areas of the globe; meanwhile, women’s educational and professional opportunities expanded while the civil rights of African Americans contracted. Intellectual shifts included the popularization of Darwinian evolution and a new “higher critical” approach to interpreting the Bible. The Civil War had also raised hermeneutical questions: Northern and Southern white Protestants had reached polar-opposite conclusions on the morality of slavery. Yet even though subsequent economic, social, and political crises like the world wars and the Great Depression further strained Protestant unity, American Protestants largely retained their cultural dominance throughout this era.
Chapter 7 offers a newly comprehensive interpretation of the political and ideological war that escalated at the heart of the First World War. It argues that at the core the war turned into a transatlantic struggle not only between war-aim agendas but indeed between competing liberal-progressive, imperialist and Bolshevik visions of peace and future order. It elucidates the unprecedented scope of this struggle by examining not only the aims and conceptions of the different wartime governments and leaders like Wilson, Lloyd George, Ludendorff and Lenin but also the contributions that intellectuals, opinion-makers and other non-governmental actors and associations on both sides of the trenches made to what became the greatest war for “national minds” and “world opinion” in history (up until then). And it brings out the far-reaching consequences this struggle had, both for peacemaking after the war and in the longer term. The analysis emphasises that it catalysed or brought to the fore formative ideas and ideologies of international and domestic-political order for the remainder of the “long” 20th century, including notions of self-determination and universal but hierarchical democratisation, ideas for a modern league of nations and competing blueprints for an internationalist system of communist states.
Chapter 3 re-examines the “ascent” of the United States within the 19th century’s Eurocentric international order, retracing its special path from a fledgling and vulnerable republic to the status of an exceptional and exceptionalist world power. It focuses on the evolution of American ideas and ideologies in the sphere of international affairs, the rise of distinctive forms of US imperialism and unilateralism, and the emergence of core maxims of US international conduct such as those embodied in the ever more expansively defined Monroe Doctrine and the Open Door Doctrine. It then casts new light on ephemeral aspirations to establish a modern Atlantic order of empires – led by the United States and the British Empire – that were pursued after the Spanish-American war of 1898 and in the era of Theodore Roosevelt.
Chapter 2 illuminates the transformation of the European and global international system in the first decades of the “long” 20th century (1860–1914). It analyses how the turn towards ever more uncompromising power politics, the emergence of modern states and the intensification of ever more unlimited imperialist competition between older and aspiring world powers – essentially, the European great powers, the United States and Japan – came to recast Europe and the world. It throws into relief how this competition and the rise of dominant imperialist, militarist and “civilisational Darwinist” doctrines and assumptions not only led to the creation of a new global hierarchy characterised by unprecedented inequalities between imperial world states, smaller states and those who were subjected to different forms of informal imperialist domination and formal colonisation. And it offers new perspectives on how the confluence of European balance-of-power practices and escalating global rivalries successively corroded international peace.
As the Golden Jubilee of 1857 approached, memories of the rebellion which circulated around this anniversary combined with news of ongoing protests against the 1905 Partition of Bengal and unrest in other parts of the country, including the Punjab, to result in widespread fear that 1907 would witness a ‘Second Mutiny’. Though these issues would have been of great concern at any time, imperialist commentators in Britain thought them all the more serious given domestic political changes that had resulted in the defeat of the Conservative-Liberal Unionist coalition at the ballot box in 1906, and the apparent decline of the British martial character which had been blamed for many of the failings during the Boer War. As this chapter will show, these anxieties played a considerable role in shaping how the mutiny was remembered in 1907, as well as how it was commemorated at the end of the year. In this respect, commemoration was an anxious response from hard-line imperialists who wished to reaffirm the values that had helped underpin colonial rule in the late Victorian era and yet were now thought both necessary to combat growing unrest in India, and yet sorely lacking within Britain.
This chapter considers how the powerfully controversial modernist novelist Joseph Conrad acquired his reputation as the first truly ‘global’ writer. A trilingual Polish expatriate, Conrad’s transnational identity was shaped by – and in turn helped shape our understandings of – a new sense of global interconnectedness in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In texts such as Heart of Darkness, Lord Jim and Nostromo, his engagement with what we would now call globalization is bedevilled by paradox and ambivalence. His writing scorns European globetrotters even as it beholds the world via a privileged Western gaze. His innocent fascination with maps is haunted by a guilty awareness of their political and ideological functions. Under no illusions about the vicious impact of European imperialism on non-European cultures, he often represents those cultures as voiceless, one-dimensional and exotically unknowable. Finally, his idealization of the sea as a bracingly pure alternative to the sordid political world of terra firma is steadily undercut by his sense that maritime space has long since been colonized by capitalist modernity.
Translation is embedded in the globalization of literature from the inception of print circulation. From fifteenth-century Western Europe to a world increasingly networked by imperialism in the early nineteenth century, printed translations are not simply reproductions or transferals of original literary texts, but dynamic assemblies of agents. In addition to the author, translator, editor, and publisher, numerous non-human agents including print and book design, but also the intellectual abstractions of world literature and the history of the idea of translation itself are actors in the process. Paradigmatic examples from diverse spatio-temporal zones including Renaissance multilingual translation, colonial translations in North India, and Arabic translations of European literature in the nineteenth century demonstrate that putting a work into a new language is beset with the Eurocentric aesthetics of world literature and reinforced by colonial regulation. At the same time, it challenges a controlled world system with indeterminacy and decentralization. As literary linguistic contacts grow and evolve across the globe in this period, the praxis of translating is not restricted by prescription. More importantly, the ontology of translation is unbound. Rather than belated second acts of literature translations are co-creations with the source.