Máire ní Fhlathúin considers how colonial narratives circulate in India, and how they intersect with British power. We read of the East India Company’s annexation of the state of Awadh in 1856, and the outbreak of revolt that brought about the Government of India Act’s transfer of powers from the East India Company to the British Crown in 1858, precipitating a massive mobilisation of British soldiers and their families to India. Ní Fhlathúin revitalises this familiar story by examining contemporary para-literary texts and poetry published in British Indian newspapers and periodicals during and immediately after the rebellion. Much of this material is newly available, and enables us to gain a more holistic view of events across the subcontinent. This broad range of texts and writers bears witness to the inherent instability of British representations of its Empire, and exposes the shaping influence of the British imagination on accounts of India

Gerard Manley Hopkins arrived in Dublin to the post of Professor of Greek at University College Dublin in February 1884. He was thirty-nine. He died of typhoid in his university rooms in June 1889, a month short of his forty-fifth birthday. Never the most prolific of poets, Hopkins wrote about twenty-five completed or near-completed poems in his five and a half years in Ireland, including undoubted masterpieces. Caught between devotion to church and resistance to state, Catholic Ireland was not exactly hostile to the priest who worked there for five years before his death, but its divisiveness immeasurably deepened the pitch and the discomfort of a poetry tugged in two ways, between the desolations of self and the consolations of church and state.

Jessica Howell turns to an emblematic masculine figure: the explorer. Howell shows how Royal Geographical Society publications contribute to the imaginative construction of Africa within 1850s travel literature, and rhetorically create the need for further expeditions and exploration. These expeditions work hand-in-hand with the interests of the Empire, in extending and mapping its boundaries. Further, Howell highlights how the travel writing of Empire selectively appropriates local knowledge forms and occludes the suffering of the indigenous peoples who were co-opted to assist British explorers. This chapter demonstrates how one may read the archives of the Royal Geographical Society for both the discursive and physical forms of violence enacted upon local guides and servants. Howell draws upon the work of historians of gender and race to illuminate the ‘archival fragments’ (Fuentes) within the RGS materials, thereby reasserting the central role of African physical and intellectual labour to travel writing as a genre.

The strategy of the Mongol Empire underwent four basic phases. The first centered on the rise and creation of the Yeke Monggol Ulus (Great Mongol State/Nation) by Chinggis Khan and the Mongols’ irruption from the steppes. The second phase was the formulation of a coherent strategy of conquest during the reign of Ögödei Qa’an. While this was derived from the campaigns of Chinggis Khan, it sought to maximise the deployment of the empire’s military on multiple fronts while simultaneously not overextending the resources of the empire. This further evolved into a third phase during the reign of Möngke Qa’an, who, through a series of reforms, allowed the Mongols to marshal more resources. In doing so, the Mongol strategy altered as they no longer had concerns of overextending themselves. During Möngke’s reign, the Mongols truly became a juggernaut. The final phase of strategy came into formulation with the dissolution of the Mongol Empire after Möngke’s death in late 1259. As the empire split into rival states often embroiled in internecine conflict, each new state had to develop its own coherent strategy, but without the massive resources of a united empire. The Mongols conceived of pragmatic grand strategy that was viable, if not always successful, rather than simply theoretical plans.

In the early 2010s, Turkey’s citizens continued to contest the role of religious, ethnic, and other forms of identity in public life. This chapter traces these contests over a series of transformative episodes from a constitutional referendum in 2010 to the nationwide Gezi Park protests three years later. Two key emergent properties are identified: (i) the AKP’s illiberal turn despite ongoing “openings” toward ethnic and religious minorities and (ii) the growing popularity of a neo-Ottomanism that came in more and less pluralistic variants. These included a multicultural approach to the Ottoman inheritance, but also a Sunni majoritarian strand. Both shaped domestic and foreign policy at a time of regional upheaval with the “Arab Spring” uprisings.

The introduction establishes seventeenth-century English ideas about the tropics, showing that they conceptualized the tropical or “torrid zone” as a coherent and distinct entity. The English thought of that region as both more abundant in resources and more deadly than the more temperate zones. This tropical zone was the focus of early English overseas expansion. The Atlantic World perspective may be too limiting as a geographical framework for understanding the rise of the English empire. Scholars should explore English colonization models across the tropics in the eastern and western hemisphere in a comparative perspective to better appreciate both the development of the early empire and the origins and rise of slavery within that empire. The introduction also argues that the distinctiveness of the variant of slavery that emerged in the English empire can best be understood through the broader framework of the global tropics, linking the Atlantic and Indian oceans.

Jean Rhys’s Voyage in the Dark maps the distinction between the country and the city onto the geopolitical scale of colonial metropole and periphery, where the colonial periphery is the semiotic placeholder for the role that London plays in the previous two chapters as the space that disrupts conventional novelistic poetics. In Anna Morgan, two worlds that do not compute – the financialized metropole of London and the preindustrial periphery – collide and the result is a character that operates according to the logic of affect rather than conventional narratives of sentiment and emotion. Her character thereby anticipates the emergence of affect as value form.

When refracted through California, the story of US naval expansion in the 1880s – the creation of a small but respectable force of steel cruisers and gunboats – becomes a form of naval racing against Pacific newly made navies. Californians and their national allies argued for a New Navy, citing fears of Chile, China, and eventually Japan. These fears were not only material, stemming from the technical inferiority of the US Old Navy, but also cultural, as naval programs in the Pacific threatened assumptions about US racial and civilizational superiority. Physically, advanced navies in the Pacific stoked fear in Californian cities about raids from the sea. Technologically, Pacific newly made navies (and especially the Chilean cruiser Esmeralda) served as yardsticks to measure US Navy progress. Culturally, the sophistication of Pacific navies undermined beliefs about the position of the United States as the most advanced nation in the hemisphere. These threats allowed navalists to make an effective argument for funding a small, cruiser-dominated New Navy in the 1880s that could in the near term compete with its Pacific rivals.

Tracing the figure of the ‘non-Russian’ across nearly three centuries of Russian writing and literary tendencies, this chapter considers how it came to embody cultural and philosophical values against which Russian writers sought to measure their own culture, history, and politics. The chapter shows that the ‘non-Russian’ was a figure central to a range of writers who grappled with Russia’s position between the symbolic antinomies of East and West, confronted the Russian and Soviet empires or emerged out of it, or used the figure to formulate what ‘Russianness’ could mean. As the constant companion of their ‘Russian’ counterparts, the ‘non-Russian’ figures examined in this chapter include those created by ethnically Russian writers as well as those who wrote in Russian while also navigating their own ethnic identities within various historical contexts and literary tendencies.

Four themes characterize the role of the Pacific’s newly made navies in the making of the US “New Navy.” Demand for new and surplus technology accelerated innovation. Testing and battlefield observation of novel weapons helped refine decisions about acquisitions and strategy. Threat perceptions of ascendant newly made navies in the Pacific made manifest the immediate need for a US New Navy. And, finally, threat perceptions were instrumentalized as political capital in order to sell the utility of navalism to a skeptical public. Appreciating these relationships textures accounts of the emergence of the US empire in the Pacific, the study of military history in the context of international society, and the advent of prototypically “modern” navies. In this the history of the nineteenth-century Pacific is a useful primer for competition in the region between the People’s Republic of China and the United States.

This chapter reviews the leading explanations for the creation of the US “New Navy” and then proposes the book’s core argument: that US naval expansion in the 1880s and 1890s was disproportionately a reaction to the Pacific’s navies and their wars. In a regional context, the US New Navy was one among many newly made, industrial fleets racing for security and prestige. The Introduction then explains the implications of this thesis for historical accounts of the “Pacific World,” US Empire, and military technological development. It concludes with a chapter outline of the book.

The single biggest driver of the UK’s engagement with its nationals abroad is immediate domestic politics. Thanks to its imperial past, the UK has a relatively large number of nationals abroad. Most are comparatively wealthy and reside in developed, stable states where they often speak the language, such as Australia or the United States. Because of their numbers and independent means, the UK government largely tries to limit its liability for them. Instead, it focuses on providing good information and advice to travelers and expatriates alike, while making clear that it expects them to take care of themselves. In extraordinary circumstances, however, particularly when events abroad attract domestic media, public, or parliamentary attention, it is both able and willing to act much more robustly. Typically this involves measures to support nationals in difficulty by evacuating them from conflict zones or the sites of natural disasters. Its relative wealth and status as a liberal democracy means it rarely tries to co-opt or suppress its nationals abroad. It does make exceptions to this rule, however, for individuals whose status as nationals is in dispute.

The national populism of the Brexit movement builds up its political worldview on the basis of an ethnocentric myth of continuous homogeneous British nationhood. This was a construct of the imagination that included nostalgia for lost British empire. It was tightly bound up with the Brexiters’ concept of ‘the people’, which brought into their campaign rhetoric the idea of ‘the will of the people’ and ‘the mandate of the people’, as well as ideas from social contract theory. ‘The will of the people’ was a phrase that ran throughout Brexitspeak, deployed by the ex-Remainer Theresa May and ardent Leavers alike, and backed up by the populist press. Brexitspeakers knew what the people’s will was, by implication at least. And the claim that this ‘will’ gave the government an unquestionable mandate followed automatically, despite the narrow margin by which the Leavers had won, and despite the fact that before it the result had been defined as ‘advisory’ only. There was also the question of who precisely constituted ‘the people’ at the referendum, for there were important groups of potential voters who were excluded by the Brexiter-influenced Referendum Act.