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In 1966, A. H. Kamau walked through the corridors of the Hayes Repository in west London, guided by Bernard Cheeseman, as a part of a six-month training on archives administration. Kamau, Kenya’s first African assistant archivist, reported on his visit to colleagues in Nairobi explaining that “this repository is known as ‘Limbo’ because the type of records accommodated in it had as yet to have their fate decided.”1 Unbeknownst to Kamau at the time, among the 215 linear miles of records awaiting their fate that surrounded him, were 100 feet of Kenyan records. His escort, Bernard Cheeseman, had arranged the deposit of more than 300 boxes, consisting of documents that mainly dealt with the Emergency and flown in from Nairobi, just three years prior. With a duplicity characteristic of the UK Colonial Office’s Intelligence and Security Department, Cheeseman boldly led Kamau through the stacks lined with locked steel cages of secret Kenyan documents under the guise of teaching best archival practice to the new professional, trusting that his pupil would not know any better which documents lay hidden. Cheeseman’s ease was misguided. Shortly after Kamau’s training, Kenya’s Permanent Secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Kibinge, wrote to the British High Commission in Nairobi wishing to begin negotiations for the return of these documents.
Chapter 7 frames Kenyan attempts of archival retrieval as a matter of decolonization at the international, bilateral, and national levels. Importantly, it also draws attention to how the concealment of the “migrated archives” affected political activity not only within Kenya but also in England, as a country undergoing its own re-nationalization process at the end of empire. The process of recovering records from the UK provided the Kenyan Government a framework in which to invoke a sovereign and unified Kenyan polity as the rightful home for the “migrated archives,” while dissent over Kenyatta’s centralized authority grew within the country. Meanwhile, British engagement with the “migrated archives” throughout the 1970s and 1980s resulted in the consolidation of postcolonial archival secrecy with other European partners as evident in the voting blocs formed in the 1983 Vienna Convention on the Succession of States in Respect of State Property, Archives and Debts.
Without overstating the case for direct lineage between current-day international organizations and the Colombo Plan, its Consultative Committee practices of generous time for discussion, decision-making by consensus and diverting the most controversial content to other forums, find echoes in the ways of ASEAN. In its recurring discussions about region, acknowledgment of Cold War dynamics, and the potential for regional action through north-south cooperation, the Colombo Plan might also be regarded as a staging post towards the more recent embrace of the ‘Indo-Pacific’. In the history of development, the Colombo Plan, while constrained in its operation by legacies of colonialism and Cold War alignments, also enjoyed a certain license during the long 1950s before standardized aid measurement and the professionalization of foreign aid bureaucracies caught up with it. It enabled member countries to tell stories about themselves for regional readers and viewers.
To those living through them, the Elizabethan and early Stuart years of England’s history seemed unusually riven by plots and conspiracies. Protestants feared the public effects of the private machinations of the Scottish queen and her supporters, of Jesuits, and of perfidious “papists” more generally. Catholic polemicists countered with narratives of dark deeds done by men who subverted rather than served the Crown: “secret histories” circulated that warned of William and Robert Cecil, the earl of Leicester, and others undermining the public state of the realm.1 Very real conspiracies by men such as the Earl of Essex and Guy Fawkes fostered fears of others. From the hard and hungry 1590s, protests against enclosures and lack of food became so common and concerning that the authorities contrived to brand some such riots as the products of treasonous conspiracies that threatened not just particular landlords or grain merchants but the public at large.2 Over the early seventeenth century, fears of covert machinations by both the poor and the powerful only increased, culminating in the fear that King Charles himself had become a pawn in a Catholic conspiracy that endangered the lives and liberties of his subjects.3 Talk of plots and conspiracies—real and imagined—abounded in an increasingly divided and discordant political culture, seen as threatening a “public” they arguably helped to create.
Chapter 3 examines the programmatic consolidation, destruction, and removal of sensitive documents in Kenya and East Africa to London as constitutional negotiations were underway as a way to simultaneously curate, in ways favorable to British interests, materials for the writing of colonial history and for the making of a postcolonial political order. It presents recordkeeping as a political project through which the outgoing colonial government in Kenya attempted to strategically furnish the incoming independent government with documents that would facilitate structural continuity during the transition to political independence while at the same time removing those which might jeopardize British interests, at the personal and governmental levels, thereby creating the conditions for impunity.
By the late 1950s, the Colombo Plan had gathered steam and supporters. As this chapter shows, the small Bureau in Colombo attracted talented experts who worked as advocates as much as the administrators. Drawn on a rotating basis from donor nations, the directors of the Bureau could be counted to expand the realms of their work and reporting. For several of the newly joined, membership was a step towards higher diplomatic cachet, towards full sovereignty, membership of the UN, or simply higher standing among neighbours. Representatives enjoyed the indulgences granted by long meetings. In addition to lavish hospitality, the annual meetings provided ample space for reflections on the state of ‘East–West’ relations and on the best paths towards peace and prosperity. Still buoyed by the momentum from Bandung, leaders such as Sukarno relished the chance to again proclaim how the world had changed and how Indonesia would not be moulded into a Western approximation of how a state should appear. One grievance that Asian representatives found they had in common with colleagues from Australia and especially New Zealand, was the effects of price fluctuations on their main exports.
This chapter focuses on the role of institutions in shaping economic efficiency and development throughout European history. It argues that institutional innovations have been central to Europe’s long-term economic progress, even though inefficient institutions have sometimes persisted due to vested interests. We first discuss what is considered a development-friendly institutional setup, and then analyse relevant historical institutions such as serfdom, open fields, guilds, cooperatives, the modern business firm and socialist central planning to understand their specific (in)efficiency contributions and distributional consequences.
This chapter analyses the relationship between population growth and resource constraints in European history, focusing on the Malthusian theory, which posits that population growth leads to stagnation due to finite resources. The chapter challenges this view by examining how technological innovations, agricultural improvements and changes in fertility strategies affected population dynamics. It explores how societies adapted to resource constraints and avoided the Malthusian trap through mechanisms such as the demographic transition. The chapter also uses case studies such as the decline of the Roman Empire to discuss the relevance of simple models for interpreting historical processes and presents nuanced insights into the complex interplay between population, resources and economic development.
This article explores how late nineteenth-century British socialists theorized the relationship between socialism and democracy through debates about the referendum. At the 1896 London Congress of the Second International, Fabians such as Sidney and Beatrice Webb and George Bernard Shaw defended parliamentary representation, expertise, and leadership as essential to socialist politics. In contrast, radicals in the Social Democratic Federation, and the Independent Labour Party advanced a theory of “real democracy” centered on direct popular legislation. Rejecting parliamentarism as corrupt, they envisioned referenda, mandates, and recall as tools to secure individual sovereignty and to dissolve the dominance of permanent majorities. This model redefined majority rule as transient, issue-specific, and plural, challenging both plebiscitary leadership and technocratic elitism. Although the International ultimately adopted the referendum only for strategic purposes, these debates reveal an original, if forgotten, socialist account of democracy as a form of pluralist, non-electoral majoritarianism.
The first English translation of 'La Galilee', an account of Pierre Loti's travels in the Holy Land from Jerusalem to Beirut, via Damascus and many other interesting places, in 1894.
Pierre Loti (1850-1923) was born Louis-Marie-Julien Viaud into a Protestant family in Rochefort in Saintonge, South-West France (now Charente Maritime). He was an officer of the French Navy and a prolific author of considerable note in nineteenth to early twentieth-century France, publishing many novels and numerous accounts of his travels around the world. He was a member of the French Academy.
Apart from his literary talents, Loti was a pioneer photographer and this translation of his journey from Jerusalem to Beirut in 1894 is greatly enhanced by the reproduction of some of the photographs he took at the time.
Britain's hasty departure from Aden and South Arabia after 128 years has often been presented as a humiliation at best and a disaster at worst. London's hopes of handing power and sovereignty over to a friendly federal regime collapsed in the face of a nationalist uprising backed that enjoyed the support of Egypt.
Five decades after the final British troops left Aden, academic experts and former British officials directly involved in the events that unfolded critically reflect on British withdrawal from South Arabia, the post-colonial problems in South Yemen that still resonate today, and how the United Kingdom learnt from its experience in stabilising Oman while overseeing the formation of the United Arab Emirates.
This volume focuses on the problems researchers face when using (Byzantine) Greek, Syriac and Arabic sources together for the reconstruction of Near Eastern history from 400-c.800. Contributions to the volume set the stage for a critical re-reading and revisionist interpretations of selected sources in the various cultural and literary traditions. The volume thus brings together neighbouring disciplines in ways that shed new light on this vitally important time in history.