Since the end of French colonial rule in Guinea, “independence” has held a central place in its political culture. Implying both dignity and self-determination for the sovereign people which possesses it, independence is a concept that has meaning only in relation to other nation-states and cultures. Yet the political elite that dominated Guinea’s First Republic constructed a new national culture around this concept. The Challenge of Guinean Independence, 1958-1971 examines Guinea’s assertion of its right to independence and the response of powerful Western players, especially the United States and France, as Guinea challenged their assumptions about the nature of African sovereignty. Considering the history of the international relations of a single African state that enjoyed limited international power and prestige challenges conventions in the historiography of both Africa and international relations. It illuminates and contextualizes expectations concerning the meaning of modernity, African sovereignty as a matter of international law, and the end of formal colonial rule coinciding with the tensions and competitions of the Cold War. The study demonstrates that the international context played a crucial role, both in conditioning the timing and form of decolonization and in shaping the international community’s adaptation of colonial patterns of economic and political interaction to the new reality of African nation-states. Focusing on the invention, development and reception of one country’s insistence on independence in turn illuminates significant issues and events: the end of French colonial rule; limitations on the sovereignty of non-European postcolonial states; the advent of neocolonialism and the failure of the nominally anti-colonial United States to oppose it; the ideological appeal of African unity as a means of safeguarding sovereignty and the compromises that its institutional form entailed; foreign aid and the notion that development for modernization could be stimulated from outside; and the implications of unlimited internal autonomy for a state’s people. Guinea’s independence ultimately challenged developing norms of Western economic and political interaction with new African states by complicating assumptions about the universality of Western notions of economic development, justice and morality.

This thesis investigates the efforts of the West Indian Church to establish and run a fascinating Mission in an area of West Africa already influenced by Islam or traditional religion. It focuses mainly on the Pongas Mission’s efforts to spread the Gospel but also discusses its missionary hierarchy during the formative years in the Pongas Country between 1855 and 1863, and the period between 1863 and 1873, when efforts were made to consolidate the Mission under black control and supervision. Between 1873 and 1900 when more Sierra Leonean assistants were hired, relations between them and African-descended West Indian missionaries, as well as between these missionaries and their Eurafrican host chiefs, deteriorated. More efforts were made to consolidate the Pongas Mission amidst greater financial difficulties and increased French influence and restrictive measures against it between 1860 and 1935. These followed an earlier prejudiced policy in the mission that was strongly influenced by the hierarchical nature of nineteenth-century Barbadian society, which was abandoned only after successive deaths and resignations of white superintendents and the demonstrated ability of black pastors to independently run the Mission. Instrumentalism aided the conversion process and the increased flow of converts threatened both the traditional belief systems and social order of the Pongas Country, resulting in confrontation between the Mission and traditional religion worshippers, while the lack of more legitimate trade in the Pongas Country and allegations of black missionaries’ illicit sexual relations and illegal trading caused the downfall of John Henry A. Duport, the Mission’s first black Head Missionary. In the late 1800s, efforts to establish a self-supporting, self-generating, and self-propagating church together with initiatives toward African agency in the Pongas Country failed. However, it was French activities and eventual consolidation of their interests in the Pongas Country from 1890 and their demand that Mission schools teach in French, together with successful recruiting of Mission students by the Roman Catholics and Muslim clerics in Guinea, that finally crippled it. Thus, by 1935 when the Gambia-Pongas Bishopric was established in the hope of rescuing the Mission, this gender-biased Christian enterprise in West Africa was already a spent force.

Let me share with you Ubuntu oralities. These stories will connect us in a familial dialogue about how we can and are regenerating beyond neo colonialism by using Ubuntu. Ubuntu is a philosophical and ethical system of thought, from which definitions of humanness, togetherness and social politics of difference arise. Ubuntu can also be viewed as a complex worldview that holds in tension the contradictions of trying to highlight our uniqueness as human beings among other human beings. My interpretation of our Indigenous Ubuntu knowledge communicates how my understanding of Ubuntu is influenced by my Maseko Ngoni and Shona ethnic identities. Another influence of my understanding of our Ubuntu worldview comes from the African languages of my familial communities which are the main tools that I draw on for accessing our shared meaning and creating new shared meaning. The geopolitical experience of being Black in Africa and then leaving Africa for the West also has influenced my understanding of Ubuntu. These are my strengths and limitations in engaging Ubuntu. I give you this information because it is not my aim to create a false dichotomy about Blackness; rather, it is my aim to enter our global contemporary Black academic discourse with another form of remembering Blackness. My remembering is grounded in my own experience which has found constancy through Ubuntu languages and other social symbolic expressions. This cultural transmission process has allowed knowledge from my ancestors to cascade down to me. I believe that by sharing our social stories we build collective confidence to engage and challenge each other with respectful curiosity and, above all, with love. Love is the expression of relational care for our interconnectedness, which is the basis for researching our truths in our shared humanity. Ubuntuness has many ways of transmitting knowledge. This being said, for this work I will focus on how we can share our fragmented memories through our stories of family, community and nationhood, as a way of better understanding our Ubuntuness. This is the process of love creating possibilities beyond pain, isolation, abandonment and hate.

This thesis investigates the efforts of the West Indian Church to establish and run a fascinating Mission in an area of West Africa already influenced by Islam or traditional religion. It focuses mainly on the Pongas Mission’s efforts to spread the Gospel but also discusses its missionary hierarchy during the formative years in the Pongas Country between 1855 and 1863, and the period between 1863 and 1873, when efforts were made to consolidate the Mission under black control and supervision. Between 1873 and 1900 when more Sierra Leonean assistants were hired, relations between them and African-descended West Indian missionaries, as well as between these missionaries and their Eurafrican host chiefs, deteriorated. More efforts were made to consolidate the Pongas Mission amidst greater financial difficulties and increased French influence and restrictive measures against it between 1860 and 1935. These followed an earlier prejudiced policy in the mission that was strongly influenced by the hierarchical nature of nineteenth-century Barbadian society, which was abandoned only after successive deaths and resignations of white superintendents and the demonstrated ability of black pastors to independently run the Mission. Instrumentalism aided the conversion process and the increased flow of converts threatened both the traditional belief systems and social order of the Pongas Country, resulting in confrontation between the Mission and traditional religion worshippers, while the lack of more legitimate trade in the Pongas Country and allegations of black missionaries’ illicit sexual relations and illegal trading caused the downfall of John Henry A. Duport, the Mission’s first black Head Missionary. In the late 1800s, efforts to establish a self-supporting, self-generating, and self-propagating church together with initiatives toward African agency in the Pongas Country failed. However, it was French activities and eventual consolidation of their interests in the Pongas Country from 1890 and their demand that Mission schools teach in French, together with successful recruiting of Mission students by the Roman Catholics and Muslim clerics in Guinea, that finally crippled it. Thus, by 1935 when the Gambia-Pongas Bishopric was established in the hope of rescuing the Mission, this gender-biased Christian enterprise in West Africa was already a spent force.

Since the end of French colonial rule in Guinea, “independence” has held a central place in its political culture. Implying both dignity and self-determination for the sovereign people which possesses it, independence is a concept that has meaning only in relation to other nation-states and cultures. Yet the political elite that dominated Guinea’s First Republic constructed a new national culture around this concept. The Challenge of Guinean Independence, 1958-1971 examines Guinea’s assertion of its right to independence and the response of powerful Western players, especially the United States and France, as Guinea challenged their assumptions about the nature of African sovereignty. Considering the history of the international relations of a single African state that enjoyed limited international power and prestige challenges conventions in the historiography of both Africa and international relations. It illuminates and contextualizes expectations concerning the meaning of modernity, African sovereignty as a matter of international law, and the end of formal colonial rule coinciding with the tensions and competitions of the Cold War. The study demonstrates that the international context played a crucial role, both in conditioning the timing and form of decolonization and in shaping the international community’s adaptation of colonial patterns of economic and political interaction to the new reality of African nation-states. Focusing on the invention, development and reception of one country’s insistence on independence in turn illuminates significant issues and events: the end of French colonial rule; limitations on the sovereignty of non-European postcolonial states; the advent of neocolonialism and the failure of the nominally anti-colonial United States to oppose it; the ideological appeal of African unity as a means of safeguarding sovereignty and the compromises that its institutional form entailed; foreign aid and the notion that development for modernization could be stimulated from outside; and the implications of unlimited internal autonomy for a state’s people. Guinea’s independence ultimately challenged developing norms of Western economic and political interaction with new African states by complicating assumptions about the universality of Western notions of economic development, justice and morality.

Let me share with you Ubuntu oralities. These stories will connect us in a familial dialogue about how we can and are regenerating beyond neo colonialism by using Ubuntu. Ubuntu is a philosophical and ethical system of thought, from which definitions of humanness, togetherness and social politics of difference arise. Ubuntu can also be viewed as a complex worldview that holds in tension the contradictions of trying to highlight our uniqueness as human beings among other human beings. My interpretation of our Indigenous Ubuntu knowledge communicates how my understanding of Ubuntu is influenced by my Maseko Ngoni and Shona ethnic identities. Another influence of my understanding of our Ubuntu worldview comes from the African languages of my familial communities which are the main tools that I draw on for accessing our shared meaning and creating new shared meaning. The geopolitical experience of being Black in Africa and then leaving Africa for the West also has influenced my understanding of Ubuntu. These are my strengths and limitations in engaging Ubuntu. I give you this information because it is not my aim to create a false dichotomy about Blackness; rather, it is my aim to enter our global contemporary Black academic discourse with another form of remembering Blackness. My remembering is grounded in my own experience which has found constancy through Ubuntu languages and other social symbolic expressions. This cultural transmission process has allowed knowledge from my ancestors to cascade down to me. I believe that by sharing our social stories we build collective confidence to engage and challenge each other with respectful curiosity and, above all, with love. Love is the expression of relational care for our interconnectedness, which is the basis for researching our truths in our shared humanity. Ubuntuness has many ways of transmitting knowledge. This being said, for this work I will focus on how we can share our fragmented memories through our stories of family, community and nationhood, as a way of better understanding our Ubuntuness. This is the process of love creating possibilities beyond pain, isolation, abandonment and hate.

My dissertation combines a critical history of the Indian diaspora’s political and intellectual impact on the development of African nationalism in South Africa with an analysis of African/Indian racial dynamics in Natal. Beginning in the 1940s, tumultuous debates among black intellectuals over the place of the Indian diaspora in Africa played a central role in the emergence of new and antagonistic conceptualizations of a South African nation. The writings of Indian political figures (particularly Gandhi and Nehru) and the Indian independence struggle had enormous influence on a generation of African nationalists, but this impact was mediated in complex ways by the race and class dynamics of Natal. During the 1930s and 40s, rapid and large-scale urbanization generated a series of racially-mixed shantytowns surrounding Durban in which a largely Gujarati and Hindi merchant and landlord class provided the ersatz urban infrastructure utilized by both Tamil-speaking workers and Zulu migrants. In Indian-owned buses, stores, and movie theatres, a racial hierarchy of Indian over African developed based on the social grammars of property, relationship with land, family structure, and different gender roles. In such circumstances, practices integral to maintaining diasporic identities—such as religious festivals, marriage, caste (jati), language, and even dress and food—became signifiers of ranked status and perceived exclusion. Despite the destruction of this urban landscape by forced removals beginning in the late 1950s, these social relationships powerfully shaped African and Indian identities in Natal, the popular memory of different communities, and the later politics of the anti-apartheid struggle. Although a few recent publications have attempted to break down the bifurcation that characterizes Natal’s historiography, the majority of academic writing on the province employs a race-based framework that focuses on either Indians or Zulu-speaking Africans. As a result, Natal’s African/Indian racial dynamic plays, at most, a secondary role in most scholarship on the region. In turn, Natal itself generally appears in histories of the anti-apartheid struggle as either an exception or a momentary interruption to a “national” narrative overwhelmingly centered on events, organizations, and individuals in the Transvaal. Rejecting a “race relations” approach that hypostatizes coherent racial groups, my dissertation examines how segregationist policies, African and Indian political organizations, and everyday social practices continuously reproduced an “African/Indian divide” despite both the enormous heterogeneity of each group and the quotidian intimacies of urban life. At the same time, it explores the ways in which this division shaped the development of the anti-apartheid struggle in Natal and the consequences of Natal’s politics for South Africa as a whole.

My dissertation combines a critical history of the Indian diaspora’s political and intellectual impact on the development of African nationalism in South Africa with an analysis of African/Indian racial dynamics in Natal. Beginning in the 1940s, tumultuous debates among black intellectuals over the place of the Indian diaspora in Africa played a central role in the emergence of new and antagonistic conceptualizations of a South African nation. The writings of Indian political figures (particularly Gandhi and Nehru) and the Indian independence struggle had enormous influence on a generation of African nationalists, but this impact was mediated in complex ways by the race and class dynamics of Natal. During the 1930s and 40s, rapid and large-scale urbanization generated a series of racially-mixed shantytowns surrounding Durban in which a largely Gujarati and Hindi merchant and landlord class provided the ersatz urban infrastructure utilized by both Tamil-speaking workers and Zulu migrants. In Indian-owned buses, stores, and movie theatres, a racial hierarchy of Indian over African developed based on the social grammars of property, relationship with land, family structure, and different gender roles. In such circumstances, practices integral to maintaining diasporic identities—such as religious festivals, marriage, caste (jati), language, and even dress and food—became signifiers of ranked status and perceived exclusion. Despite the destruction of this urban landscape by forced removals beginning in the late 1950s, these social relationships powerfully shaped African and Indian identities in Natal, the popular memory of different communities, and the later politics of the anti-apartheid struggle. Although a few recent publications have attempted to break down the bifurcation that characterizes Natal’s historiography, the majority of academic writing on the province employs a race-based framework that focuses on either Indians or Zulu-speaking Africans. As a result, Natal’s African/Indian racial dynamic plays, at most, a secondary role in most scholarship on the region. In turn, Natal itself generally appears in histories of the anti-apartheid struggle as either an exception or a momentary interruption to a “national” narrative overwhelmingly centered on events, organizations, and individuals in the Transvaal. Rejecting a “race relations” approach that hypostatizes coherent racial groups, my dissertation examines how segregationist policies, African and Indian political organizations, and everyday social practices continuously reproduced an “African/Indian divide” despite both the enormous heterogeneity of each group and the quotidian intimacies of urban life. At the same time, it explores the ways in which this division shaped the development of the anti-apartheid struggle in Natal and the consequences of Natal’s politics for South Africa as a whole.

Master of Arts / Department of History / David A. Graff / Michael Ramsay / In 1988, Irving Brown received the Medal of Freedom from President Ronald Reagan for playing a crucial role in breaking the hold of international communism over postwar Western Europe. By doing so, he can truly be called one of the architects of Western democracy. Brown also made extraordinary efforts to fight international Communism in French North Africa during the 1950s. This paper seeks to answer the question of why these efforts in North Africa failed, and it will show the limits of American labor‘s international influence during the Cold War, in particular in French North Africa. Irving Brown successfully strengthened anti-Communist unions in Europe, and had the financial backing of the Truman Administration for those projects. However, Brown‘s efforts to build anti-Communist trade unions in Tunisia and Algeria did not have the backing of the U.S. government under the Eisenhower Administration. Instead, the AFL-CIO, with Brown as its representative, attempted to use the non-Communist International Confederation of Free Trade Unions (ICFTU) to influence the nationalist movements of Tunisia and Algeria through their respective national unions, the Union générale tunisienne du travail (UGTT) and the Union générale des travailleurs algériens (UGTA). Disagreements within the ICFTU severely inhibited Brown‘s effectiveness and prevented him from fully realizing the AFL-CIO‘s policy goals in North Africa. Brown was overly dependent on Tunisia for his operations with the Algeria labor movement, and the ICFTU was incapable of providing adequate support to the Algerians to compete with its Communist rival, the World Federation of Trade Unions. To the extent that independent Tunisia was Western-oriented, Brown was successful in his efforts. However, in the long run, Brown failed as an architect of Western democracy, as Tunisia became a dictatorship with a socialist economy. In Algeria, the state of war forced the UGTA to turn to the Eastern bloc despite Brown‘s personal dedication to North African independence and development. Furthermore, in independence, Algeria‘s government embraced socialism and single party rule.

Alors que des stratégies ont été développées par les pouvoirs publiques qui officiaient à Dakar depuis les années 1920 pour contenir l’évolution de la tuberculose, maladie sociale alors identifiée comme constituant un obstacle aux projets socio-politiques et économique de la France en Afrique de l’ouest, cette maladie continuait en 2019, environ 40 ans après la décolonisation du Sénégal, à figurer parmi les préoccupations des autorités sanitaires de la ville. Se posent dès lors plusieurs questions: pourquoi, en dépit de l’existence d’un vaccin antituberculeux depuis les années 1920 et malgré la découverte de médicaments spécifiques au cours des années 1940-1950, la tuberculose continue de défier les plans mis en œuvre à Dakar pour contenir son évolution? Quels ont été les moyens mobilisés pour stopper son évolution? La lutte contre la tuberculose à Dakar impliquait-elle une action sur les facteurs qui favorisaient l’extension de la maladie? Serait-ce l’exécution des mesures antituberculeuses qui était défaillante? L’hypothèse qui sous-tend cette thèse est que la lutte contre la tuberculose ne constituait pas une priorité pour les autorités sanitaires de Dakar mais aussi que l’inadéquation des différentes mesures préventives et curatives opposées à cette maladie explique les limites de l’action jusque-là entreprise et, par conséquent, sa persistance dans cette ville. À travers une évaluation de l’organisation et de l’exécution des différentes mesures qui ont été prises depuis 1924, ce travail de recherche tente de faire la lumière sur les facteurs explicatifs de la persistance de la tuberculose à Dakar jusqu’en 1969 et d’identifier des continuités, et pas seulement des ruptures, entre la période coloniale et nationale pour mieux saisir la place actuelle de la maladie infectieuse au pays. Ce travail envisage aussi de voir en référence à quels savoirs et à quelles pratiques ont été opérés les choix concernant les mesures à opposer à la tuberculose. Il cherche également à étudier les modalités d’exécution des différentes mesures arrêtées pour stopper le développement de cette maladie afin de saisir les distances entre les intentions et les gestes posés. Pour évaluer l’incidence des différents plans de lutte mis en œuvre contre la tuberculose à Dakar dans la durée choisie, une attention est enfin portée à leur réception ainsi que les attitudes qu’elles ont suscitées chez la population dakaroise. / While strategies had been developed by the public authorities that had been operating in Dakar since the 1920s to contain the spread of tuberculosis, a social disease then identified as an obstacle to France's socio-political and economic projects in Dakar and West Africa, in 2019, some 40 years after Senegal's decolonization, the disease continued to be a concern for the city's health authorities. This raises several questions: Why, despite the manufacture of an anti-tuberculosis vaccine since the 1920s and the discovery of specific drugs in the 1940s and 1950s, tuberculosis continues to defy the plans implemented in Dakar to contain its spread? What has been done to halt its spread? Did the fight against tuberculosis in Dakar also involve action on the factors that contributed to the spread of the disease? Was it the implementation of TB control measures that was failing? The hypothesis underlying this thesis is that the fight against tuberculosis was not a priority for Dakar health authorities, but also that the inadequacy of the various preventive and curative measures against this disease explains the limits of the action taken so far and, consequently, the persistence of tuberculosis in this city. Through an evaluation of the organization and execution of the various measures taken since 1924, this thesis attempts to shed light on the factors explaining the persistence of tuberculosis in Dakar until 1969 and to identify continuities, and not only breaks, between the colonial and national periods in order to better understand the current place of the infectious disease in the country. It also envisages seeing with reference to what knowledge and practices were maked choices concerning measures to combat tuberculosis and seeks to study the modalities of implementation of the various measures adopted to halt the development of this disease in order to grasp distances between intentions and actions taken. In order to assess the impact of the various plans to combat tuberculosis in Dakar over the chosen period, attention is also paid to their reception and the attitudes that they have aroused among the population of Dakar.