Abstract: This chapter argues that the state of nature brings into focus colonial imaginaries of land and identity. It also contends that these colonial imaginaries have come to shape the modern West more broadly.

This conclusion explores whether nostalgia can exist in postcolonial literatures, burdened as they are by traumatic histories of imperial oppression, by examining the St. Lucian poet Derek Walcott’s variation on Homeric epic, Omeros. Is nostalgia no longer relevant when a culture’s past is cut off by violence and the lost homeland cannot be restored? Or can longing for the irrecoverable past be part of a creative response to problematic histories? This inquiry crystalizes a central aim of the project: to show how nostalgia can be a means of reimagining the national past, an inclusive way of expressing commitment to a particular culture.

Abstract: The Conclusion argues that the state of nature remains central to understanding the fractured condition of modern Western thought, particularly in the fields of colonialism, secularism, and ecology. It highlights the continuing relevance of the notion for interpreting the fragmented imaginaries of Western modernity.

This chapter discusses poets of the South West Asian and North African diasporas who have experienced exile and loss, some as refugees. It describes a translingual pluriverse of diasporic poets from a region that has come to have many names and terminologies assigned to it. The chapter reflects on the political and cultural conditions in which diasporic writers produce poetry in Australia, in both spoken and written forms. Themes of witness, protest and identity, often interwoven, are analysed. The chapter considers the presence of poets from Arabic-, Kurdish-, Dari- and Farsi-speaking backgrounds, some of whom write in English while others have translingual practices and experiment with hybrid modes. It assesses the impact of settler monolingualism in Australia and argues for the importance of multilingual poetry in articulating cultural diversity and challenging delimiting discursive systems. The significance of literary journals is also detailed, and the value of poetry in the face of violence, displacement and prejudice is asserted.

This chapter is an overview of the life and work of Oodgeroo Noonuccal (formerly Kath Walker), whose poetry collection We Are Going (1964) was not only the first ever book of poetry by an Aboriginal person but also one of the fastest-selling books in Australian history. It traces her early involvement in civil rights in Queensland, her ongoing activism in Aboriginal struggles, and the power of her poetry to articulate the feelings and lived experiences of the Aboriginal people. It discusses Oodgeroo’s friendship with Judith Wright and her founding of Moongalba, an Aboriginal cultural and education centre on Noonuccal country. The chapter outlines her role in various national Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander arts organisations and her international connections with Indigenous writers. Lastly, it emphasises Oodgeroo’s lifelong work in foregrounding Aboriginal cultural and political perspectives.

This chapter examines the “verse politics” of eighteenth-century Asia. It explores how Anglophone authors used epics and ruin poetry to advance imperialism, assess governmental policy, and reimagine the role of India in the British Empire. To demonstrate poetry’s role in politics and imperial policymaking, this chapter focuses on the career of Eyles Irwin, a colonial administrator stationed in Madras during the 1770s and 1780s and one of the earliest authors to publish English poetry while in India. The chapter analyzes his collection of travel poems, the Occasional Epistles (1783), and his lengthy poetic epistle, “The Ruins of Madura, or, the Hindoo Garden” (c. 1785–92), which versifies the holy sites and gardens of an ancient southern Indian city, Madura (Madurai), and the decayed palace of one of its Hindu rulers, Tirumala Nayaka. From these details, and Madura’s ruins, Irwin reanimates a South Indian culture and polity. Epics and ruin poetry reimagined writing about empire not as an attempt at personal fame but as an extension of imperial policy, and in ruin poetry Anglophone authors sought to reconcile the obvious oppression of India with the supposed liberty of Britain’s empire.

This chapter tracks the way the accumulation of capital in the colonial metropole enabled a cross-cultural dialogue among certain poets from the East and the West in London in the 1920s and 1930s, one that gradually diminishes in the postcolonial period. Poetry, in the modernist period, sought to dismantle the binary between authenticity and derivation, a binary which has been given new life in our own moment and has, therefore, blinded us from seeing these poets as participating in a common enterprise, even if it is one beset with many conceptual pitfalls resulting from the colonial relation. Nevertheless, poets as distinct as Rabindranath Tagore, Sarojini Naidu, and Una Marson – and thinkers such as C. L. R. James – wished to construct a universal humanism out of the uneven terrain of imperial modernity, an impulse they shared with such complicated figures as W. B. Yeats and even the violently reactionary Ezra Pound. Ultimately, this unstable humanism gives way to the starker divides of the period of decolonization.

Royal tribute was a tax based on ancestry that linked free people to the colonial government and the Spanish monarch. For families, royal tribute was about more than the immediate pressure of tax payment. Registration as a taxpayer could alter a family’s status, or calidad, for generations. Using tax rolls and case studies of people who resisted registration, this chapter argues that families took varied strategies to try to keep off the tax registers and establish alternative expressions of their loyalty to the Spanish crown. The cases demonstrate the interpersonal, political, and gendered conflicts that arose when individuals with African ancestry resisted the obligation of royal tribute. Officials and bureaucrats denounced the actions of those who confronted agents of the tribute regime. By refusing registration, or discouraging others from complying, men and women prompted officials to reflect on what loyalty from Afro-descendants entailed.

Siam, now known as Thailand, was never colonized by Western powers. Despite the nineteenth-century expansions of the British to its west and south and the French to its east, Siam managed to survive as a country until the end of the colonial era. How did Siam evade colonial rules? More specifically, why did the British and the French choose a policy of restraint over Siam, while not doing the same for others? This chapter argues that Siam’s survival was due to a combination of its geographical location and strategic political and economic reforms. Siam’s central location provided the crucial advantage of time, allowing it to prepare for encounters with Western powers. Additionally, through successful reforms, Siam strengthened its political and economic systems, eliminating any potential threat to Western interests and removing the pretext for colonization.

This introductory chapter begins by considering two general features of the politics of territory in modernity: the expectation that borders should be precisely defined as lines, and the central role of colonial legacies. The book centres on the relation between these two features. Four narratives about the global history of borders that the book seeks to engage with and modify are elaborated: first, colonial-inherited borders are generally remarkable for their vagueness; second, linear borders are originally and most properly a practice of sovereign states or nation-states; third, lines on maps determine politics; and fourth, linear borders were first practiced in Europe, then exported to the rest of the world through colonialism. The chapter outlines the argument and the rest of the book. At its most general level, the argument is that modern borders are distinct not because they express sovereignty but because of certain technical, apolitical practices.

In many parts of Africa, the mass production of printed texts began with Christian missions. Missionaries’ descriptions of African languages and their compilation of dictionaries were essential for the emergence of print cultures. However, missionary linguistics mirrored missionary politics. Two Protestant missionaries in Central Africa, one in Congo and the other in Malawi, differed in their views on both African languages and the European presence in Africa. Where Walter Henry Stapleton’s dictionary took an interest in colonial rule, David Clement Scott advanced dialogue in a radical vision for race relations. Both worked with widely spoken language forms, but the missionaries were driven by disparate motivations. Between them, the two dictionaries indicate considerable variation in the nineteenth-century missionary contributions to African print cultures. They, and the missionaries who compiled them, convey sharply divergent visions for African languages as contributions to human knowledge and imagination.