Journal articles on the topic 'North Africa campaign early war'

Introduction. The article presents an analysis of North African society on the eve of Belisarius’s campaign against the vandals in North Africa (533–534). The campaign directed by Justinian under the leadership of Belisarius aimed to return the territory of North Africa to the Roman Empire. Methods. The methodological basis of this work is the concept of the Late Antiquity, the core of which is studying the people’s mentality, since the existing work on this issue focuses solely on socio-economic and political cause-and-effect relationships of the further confrontation between the Moorish and Roman tribes. Actually, the methods are the following: the historical-systemic method was the most important (an attempt to analyze the specifics of North African society on the eve of the war with the Vandals). Analysis. We divided North African society into three groups: the Vandals, the Libyans, the Moorish. The last two groups and their attitude towards the inclusion in the Roman Empire were of the greatest interest. Some of the tribes supported Justinian’s idea of the Reconquista and fought against the Vandals. Some supported the vandals. Nomadic tribes remained neutral. In our opinion, supporting the military campaign against the Vandals was due not only to economic reasons, but also mental ones. Thus, the research interest was caused by the transition period but not only in relation to the “Late Roman – Early Byzantium” line, but also because the region was romanized (presence of Latin culture, including the language segment), then it was part of the Vandal kingdom, after that – part of the Roman Empire (synthesis of Greek and Latin culture, with the predominance of Greek one). Results. In the course of the campaign against the vandals, North African society was represented by several social groups: the Vandals, the Libyans and the Мооrish – tribes that have their own cultural characteristics. Some tribes, who were in the Romanized zone (before the arrival of the Vandals), were on the side of Belisarius and fought against the Vandals. With extreme caution, we can say that this was due not only to socio-economic or political reasons, but also to mental ones. In our opinion, Byzantine Africa was a synthesis of Latin and Greek with the prevalence of the latter, and the Romanized population still wanted to feel part of the Roman Empire.

Studies of the relations between the Tripartite powers have primarily been concentrated on the relations of Nazi Germany with Imperial Japan and Fascist Italy. This article, based on original documents from the Italian archives, offers an original insight on the Italian perspective about the naval relations between Italy and Japan before and during the early years of the Second World War. It analyses the strategic motivation that led Fascist Italy to seek naval cooperation with Japan and how their relationship evolved during the period between the Ethiopian War (1935–6) to the end of the Axis campaign in North Africa in 1943.

AbstractFrom 1922 through 1936 Max Yergan, an African-American graduate of historically Black Shaw University in Raleigh, North Carolina represented the North American YMCA in South Africa through the auspices of the Student Christian Association. A student secretary since his sophomore year in 1911, with Indian and East African experience in World War One, Yergan's star rose sufficiently to permit him entry into the racially challenging South Africa field after a protracted campaign waged on his behalf by such interfaith luminaries as Gold Coast proto nationalist J.E.K. Aggrey and the formidable Dr. W.E.B. Du Bois. Arriving on the eve of the Great Rand Mine Strike of 1922, Yergan's South African years were punctuated by political concerns. Entering the country as an Evangelical Pan-Africanist influenced by the social gospel thrust of late nineteenth and early twentieth century American Protestantism that reached the YMCA and other faith-friendly but nondenominational organizations, Yergan became favorably disposed to Marxist and Marxist-Leninist doctrine in the course of his South African posting. Against the backdrop of the labor agitation of the post World War One era and the expansion and transformation of the South African Communist Party that occurred during the mid to late nineteen twenties, Yergan's response to what he termed "the appeal of Communism" made him an avatar of a liberation theology fusing Marxist revolution and Christianity. This paper details some of the trajectory of that momentous and profound personal evolution.

SummaryWhen sleeping sickness was discovered to be epidemic in the Congo Free State in 1904, the administration responded by attempting to implement public health measures which had evolved in Europe in relation to plague and cholera epidemics. These measures were to identify and isolate victims and suspected victims of the disease and to map out the infected and uninfected zones. This article describes the early sleeping-sickness campaign of the Belgian authorities in the Uele District of Province Orientale between 1904 and 1914, focusing on the formation of isolation camps or lazarets. Uele district had been identified as a potentially rich and uninfected zone to be protected from contamination by the establishment of acordon sanitaire. Public health policy and practice during this period provides an example of attempted ‘social engineering’ on the part of a colonial authority. While sleeping sickness provided the major impetus for the gradual development of the colonial medical service by the 1920s, the early period between 1903 and World War I was particularly onerous for the African populations in the north-east. The public health policy was perceived by many Africans as one more element in the on-going conquest and exploitation of the region. Examples are provided to demonstrate the ways in which numerous sleeping-sickness regulations affected African societies in Uele.

The article addresses the function of (post)colonial nostalgia in a context of multidirectional memory (Rothberg 2009) in contemporary Europe. How can different cultural memories of the Second Word War be put into respectful dialogue with each other? The text is based on a contrapuntal reading (Said 1994) of British and Egyptian popular narratives, mainly British documentary films about the North Africa Campaign, but also feature films and novels, and data from qualitative interviews collected during ethnographic fieldwork in Alexandria and Cairo, Egypt, during visits 2013–2015. The study highlights the considerable differences between the British and Egyptian narratives, but also the significant similarities regarding the use and function of nostalgia. In addition, the Egyptian narrative expresses a profound cosmopolitan nostalgia and a longing for what is regarded as Egypt’s lost, modern Golden Age, identified as the decades before the nation’s fundamental change from western-oriented monarchy to Nasser’s Arab nationalist military state. The common elements between the two national narratives indicate a possibly fruitful way to open up for a shared popular memory culture about the war years, including postcolonial aspects.

Historians reconstruct the Byzantine conquest of Crete in 960-961 based largely on theHistoryof Leo the Deacon and two variants of the continuation of theChronicleof Symeon the Logothete. However, the account in the continuation is modelled closely, in narrative structure, imagery, vocabulary and ideology, on Prokopios’ account of the conquest of North Africa by Belisarios in 533-534. This challenges our knowledge of the campaign but sheds interesting new light on the sophisticated use of classical texts that Byzantine ‘chroniclers’ could make.

Shainool Jiwa’s The Rise of a Muslim Empire is a two-volume historical work on the legacy of the Fatimid Empire. The first volume surveys the religious and sociopolitical underpinnings of Fatimid rule from its North African establishment in 909 to its transition to Egypt in 969. Jiwa’s second vol- ume focuses on the pinnacle of Fatimid society up until its decline from 969-1171. This review pertains to the first of the two volumes. Working within this phase, Jiwa details the reigns of the first four Imams: ‘Abd Allāh al-Mahdī, Abū’l-Qāsim Muḥammad, Ismāʿīl al-Manṣūr, and al-Muʿizz li- Dīn Allāh. The second book, which is titled The Fatimid Rule from Egypt, discusses the latter ten Imams (4). The first chapter covers the origins of the Fatimids in respect to both religious and geographical contexts. Jiwa starts by providing the historical background of Ismaili Shiism. Here, everything from the succession crisis of 632 CE to the emergence of the different strands of Shiism are discussed. Jiwa describes the Ismaili sect as having held Ismāʿīl, the eldest son of Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq, to have been the chosen successor of his father, therefore mak- ing him Imam. Ismāʿīl’s ephemeral mortality caused for the Imamate to then pass over to his young son, Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl, eponym of the sect (10). The Twelvers are described as having believed in the Imamate of Jaʿfar’s youngest son, Mūsā, whose lineage gives root to the Imams of Twelver Shiism. Jiwa characterizes Ismaili beliefs as having rested on dawr al-satr (period of concealment) and daʿwa (religio-political mission) (11). The dawr al-satr refers to the Imams going into hiding with only their most trusted followers knowing their true identities. Subsequently, these follow- ers promoted the recognition of these hidden Imams, which in large part refers to daʿwa (the act of inviting). Jiwa explains that during dawr al-satr (765–909 CE) Ismaili doctrine had spread as far as from Yemen to Ifriqiya (modern-day Tunisia and eastern Algeria) (12), with its most prominent adherents being the Kutama Berbers of North Africa. Under the teachings of Abū ‘Abd Allāh al-Shīʿī, a pronounced Ismaili dāʿī (inviter), the Kutama had aspired to establish the dawlat al-ḥaqq (the righteous state) (16). This aspiration materialized under the allegiance of ‘Abd Allāh al-Mahdī who had been pronounced as Imam by his predecessor and later recognized as the mahdī (messianic figure) (20). This belief, nonetheless, was not accepted by all Ismailis, particularly those following Ḥamdān Qarmaṭ, who later came to be known as the Qaramiṭa (21). Sa- lamiyya (a town located in Syria), the town where ‘Abd Allāh al-Mahdī had resided, became unsafe due to Abbasid persecution, causing the Imam to migrate to various locations and eventually Sijilmasa (22). Meanwhile, the Kutama had grown to such a force that they had been able to seize control over Qayrawān of North Africa under the leadership of al-Shīʿī (22). When al-Mahdī was later arrested in Sijilmasa and the news spread to the Kuta- ma, a campaign of soldiers marched to secure his release and bring him to Qayrawān. Having accomplished this, the Fatimid State came into fruition (22). Jiwa provides sources detailing the events which led up to the Fatim- id establishment, including eyewitness accounts from Jaʿfar al-Ḥājib’s Sīrat Jaʿfar al-Ḥājib, secondary sources such as Aḥmad b. Ibrāhīm al-Naysābūrī’s Istitār al-Imām (‘The Concealment of the Imam’), and other historical works such as the influential Iftitāh al-daʿwa wa-ibtidāʿ al-dawla (‘Com- mencement of the Mission and the Beginnings of the State’) authored by Abū Ḥanīfa al-Nuʿmān (29-30). These references help readers pinpoint who was instrumental in recording Fatimid history. In chapter two, Jiwa discusses the establishment of the Fatimid state, giving details of its institutions, processes, and hallmark locations. Al-Mah- dī is seen to have incorporated officials who had previously served the Aghlabids (the previous rulers of Qayrawān). In addition, institutions such as maẓālim (oppressive acts) courts are discussed as having been estab- lished to provide redress for ordinary civilians against abuses of power (35). During this time of development, dissension amongst the Kutama is seen to have imploded on the basis of marginalized sentiments. Once having been one of the most loyal dāʿīs to al-Mahdī, al-Shīʿī had led a rebellion against his former Imam on charges of being a false mahdī. Ultimately this campaign was pacified, resulting in the execution of al Shīʿī. This chapter also reveals new characters who later became prominent figures in Fatimid history. The heir apparent or Prince Abū’l-Qāsim Muḥammad, the eldest son of al-Mahdī, already took up much of his father’s duties while his own son, Ismāʿīl or al-Manṣūr bi’llāh (‘the One Who is Victorious by God’) was entrusted by the sitting Imam, al-Mahdī (his grandfather), as his most faithful confidant (39). The port city of al-Mahdiyya which had been con- structed by the Fatimids in 916 is described as having been unique in its architectural design and strategic in its location. Al-Mahdiyya served as the new Mediterranean capital and had secured the Fatimids a booming com mercial fabric. Similarly, the city of Palermo in Sicily had been occupied by the Fatimids and had also brought a great deal of cultural exchange and goods. Jiwa brings out images of palaces and charts out maps of the port city to provide visual comprehension of the architecture. Chapter three surveys the reign of al-Manṣūr, discussing his ascension to power under fraught circumstances and his construction of a new city. This chapter focuses attention on the reconstruction of Palermo in vivid archaeological detail. Readers are informed of the Khariji rebellion from Ifrīqiya spearheaded by Abū Yazīd al-Nukkarī. The Kharijis are described to have been insurmountable by the Fatimids, pushing their Empire as far back as to the Mediterranean coast of al-Mahdiyya (60). It was not until al-Ḥasan b. ‘Alī al-Kalbī, the governor of Tunis, and his army pushed back against the Kharijis that the North African coastland would be recaptured (61). Despite this, the Kharijis were too difficult to overcome and remained at conflict with the Fatimids up until the death of Abū’l-Qāsim. Fearful that news of Abū’l-Qāsim’s death would puncture the morale of the Fatimid war effort, al-Manṣūr had managed to keep the news of his father’s passing silent. After an eventful encounter, al-Manṣūr would eventually go on to defeat Abū Yazīd’s army and restore Fatimid rule. Following this victory, al-Manṣūr began taking restorative measures to recover the now war-torn society. Socially considerate policies such as charity stipends, the appoint- ment of a Sunni-based Maliki judge, and omission of taxes were all strides in this effort. But the most significant of his developments was the con- struction of a new capital called Manṣūriyya. Much of this city’s structural inspiration came from the North African ancient ruins al-Manṣūr had been enchanted by (68). Jiwa’s training as a historian is evident in how she cites primary sources every chance she gets, from sermons to testimonies. Clos- ing this chapter, Jiwa provides an anecdote recorded by al-Nuʿmān which romantically relays the moment al-Manṣūr knew that his son, al-Muʿizz li-Dīn Allāh, was ready to ascend to power (77). Jiwa’s anecdotes connect the reader to the ethos of Fatimid personalities. Chapter four delves into the reign of al-Manṣūr’s heir, al-Muʿizz (953- 75), who came into conflict with both the Umayyads and the Byzantines during his reign and would later live out his final days in his new capital, al-Qāhira al-Muʿizziya (‘the Victorious City of al-Muʿizz’)—modern-day Cairo (78). Beyond the royal family, Jiwa presents key stalwarts that the Em- pire was indebted to. Once servant to al-Mahdī, Jawhar, who was of Slavic origin, had risen through the ranks (serving both as scribe and commander in battle), eventually being entrusted with many honorable state positions. This chapter is the longest one of the book and attempts to accomplish many things. Along with discussing the battles which ensued during this juncture, Jiwa also fleshes out the theology of Ismaili beliefs. Al-Nuʿmān is said to have written extensively on the topic—including his text written between 958 and 960, Daʿā’im al-Islām (‘Pillars of Islam’), which delineates such fundamental concepts to Ismaili theology as walāya (allegiance and obedience), īmān (faith), ẓāhir (exoteric), and bāṭin (esoteric) (88-89). The early Fatimid age is described as having been a milieu of knowledge seek- ing, with debates and lectures taking place on a frequent basis. Through the majālis (teaching sessions) program, the Ismaili doctrine would proliferate to the broader society. Jiwa’s text is filled with firsthand accounts which describe Fatimid institutions, ceremonies, and events, providing vivid pic- tures of what is being described (e.g., al-Nuʿmān’s description of the grand circumcision ceremony hosted in 962 and Ibn Haytham’s description of the diversity of attendees and tailoring of lessons in the majālis by teach- ers such as Aflaḥ b. Hārūn al-Mālūsī, 95). The tension between the Uma- yyads in Spain and the Fatimids is also presented in this chapter, depicted as stemming from their varying loyalties in the rivalry between ‘Alī b. Abī Ṭālib and Muʿāwiya. The coastal regions of the Mediterranean and North Africa would see many conflicts between the Fatimids and Umayyads; the Umayyads and the Byzantines worked together to suppress their Fatimid adversary, with the Byzantines launching campaigns on the parts of the Empire closest to Sicily while the Umayyads attacked the most western part. After briefly losing parts of their North African territories, the Fatimids eventually reasserted their control over the Maghrib, leaving the Umayyads no choice but to resort to a peace treaty (103). The Ismaili daʿwā reached far and wide, with its message gaining adherents from the Gulf of Yemen to as far as Sind. Jiwa also describes the Kalbid dynasty of Fatimid Sicily, which had come under the governorship of al-Ḥasan al-Kalbī. During this period (960-65), Sicily had been the site of intense warfare between the Fatimids and the Byzantines, with two distinct battles resulting in the most pivotal outcomes for the region, namely the Pit and the Straits (119). Like the Umayyads, the Byzantines would also later come to negotiate terms of peace with the Fatimids in 958 (116). Chapter five speaks to the venture the Fatimids made into Egypt in 966. Here, readers are presented with the terms acknowledged by local nobles such as Sharīf Abū Jaʿfar Muslim al-Ḥusaynī and the Fatimids, the founding of the new capital (al-Qāhira), and the relocation of al-Muʿizz along with a significant portion of the Manṣūriyyan population in 972. The chapter serves as both a close to the book and a cliffhanger for the second volume of the series (which turns to Fatimid rule in Egypt under the son of al-Muʿizz, Niẓār b. al-Muʿizz). Capturing the cohesive religious fabric of Fatimid rule, Jiwa notes that al-Muʿizz pledged to maintain Sunni religious life while ruling over Egypt (126); she describes pillars of Sunni Islam that can serve as points of contrast to the Ismaili tradition (127). Individuals who can justly be seen as archetypes of the Fatimid intel- ligentsia are referenced both biographically and through their works. Jiwa introduces her readers to eminent characters including missionaries like Abū Yaʿqūb al-Sijistānī of Khurāsān (d. after 971); writers and thinkers who composed the Fatimid ideology such as Qāḍī al-Nuʿmān; poets who gave inspiration such as Muḥammad b. Hānī; and generals who rendered their lives for the Fatimid Empire such as al-Ḥasan b. ‘Ali al-Kalbī. Although some readers may be frustrated by the detail of jumping back and forth across names, dates, and events, those who are able to follow the work the- matically will certainly find this work to be nothing short of informative. Jiwa impressively condenses a rich and fluid history into few pages while including the most essential elements, people, and institutions making up this period. Readers are provided with visual aids (maps, family tree charts, and city maps) to help identify and locations and structures which would otherwise come off as abstract and jargon-heavy. In addition, she includes colorful images of important monuments such as mosques, coins, and ar- tifacts. Ameen OmarMA, Islamic Studies & HistoryThe George Washington University

Shainool Jiwa’s The Rise of a Muslim Empire is a two-volume historical work on the legacy of the Fatimid Empire. The first volume surveys the religious and sociopolitical underpinnings of Fatimid rule from its North African establishment in 909 to its transition to Egypt in 969. Jiwa’s second vol- ume focuses on the pinnacle of Fatimid society up until its decline from 969-1171. This review pertains to the first of the two volumes. Working within this phase, Jiwa details the reigns of the first four Imams: ‘Abd Allāh al-Mahdī, Abū’l-Qāsim Muḥammad, Ismāʿīl al-Manṣūr, and al-Muʿizz li- Dīn Allāh. The second book, which is titled The Fatimid Rule from Egypt, discusses the latter ten Imams (4). The first chapter covers the origins of the Fatimids in respect to both religious and geographical contexts. Jiwa starts by providing the historical background of Ismaili Shiism. Here, everything from the succession crisis of 632 CE to the emergence of the different strands of Shiism are discussed. Jiwa describes the Ismaili sect as having held Ismāʿīl, the eldest son of Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq, to have been the chosen successor of his father, therefore mak- ing him Imam. Ismāʿīl’s ephemeral mortality caused for the Imamate to then pass over to his young son, Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl, eponym of the sect (10). The Twelvers are described as having believed in the Imamate of Jaʿfar’s youngest son, Mūsā, whose lineage gives root to the Imams of Twelver Shiism. Jiwa characterizes Ismaili beliefs as having rested on dawr al-satr (period of concealment) and daʿwa (religio-political mission) (11). The dawr al-satr refers to the Imams going into hiding with only their most trusted followers knowing their true identities. Subsequently, these follow- ers promoted the recognition of these hidden Imams, which in large part refers to daʿwa (the act of inviting). Jiwa explains that during dawr al-satr (765–909 CE) Ismaili doctrine had spread as far as from Yemen to Ifriqiya (modern-day Tunisia and eastern Algeria) (12), with its most prominent adherents being the Kutama Berbers of North Africa. Under the teachings of Abū ‘Abd Allāh al-Shīʿī, a pronounced Ismaili dāʿī (inviter), the Kutama had aspired to establish the dawlat al-ḥaqq (the righteous state) (16). This aspiration materialized under the allegiance of ‘Abd Allāh al-Mahdī who had been pronounced as Imam by his predecessor and later recognized as the mahdī (messianic figure) (20). This belief, nonetheless, was not accepted by all Ismailis, particularly those following Ḥamdān Qarmaṭ, who later came to be known as the Qaramiṭa (21). Sa- lamiyya (a town located in Syria), the town where ‘Abd Allāh al-Mahdī had resided, became unsafe due to Abbasid persecution, causing the Imam to migrate to various locations and eventually Sijilmasa (22). Meanwhile, the Kutama had grown to such a force that they had been able to seize control over Qayrawān of North Africa under the leadership of al-Shīʿī (22). When al-Mahdī was later arrested in Sijilmasa and the news spread to the Kuta- ma, a campaign of soldiers marched to secure his release and bring him to Qayrawān. Having accomplished this, the Fatimid State came into fruition (22). Jiwa provides sources detailing the events which led up to the Fatim- id establishment, including eyewitness accounts from Jaʿfar al-Ḥājib’s Sīrat Jaʿfar al-Ḥājib, secondary sources such as Aḥmad b. Ibrāhīm al-Naysābūrī’s Istitār al-Imām (‘The Concealment of the Imam’), and other historical works such as the influential Iftitāh al-daʿwa wa-ibtidāʿ al-dawla (‘Com- mencement of the Mission and the Beginnings of the State’) authored by Abū Ḥanīfa al-Nuʿmān (29-30). These references help readers pinpoint who was instrumental in recording Fatimid history. In chapter two, Jiwa discusses the establishment of the Fatimid state, giving details of its institutions, processes, and hallmark locations. Al-Mah- dī is seen to have incorporated officials who had previously served the Aghlabids (the previous rulers of Qayrawān). In addition, institutions such as maẓālim (oppressive acts) courts are discussed as having been estab- lished to provide redress for ordinary civilians against abuses of power (35). During this time of development, dissension amongst the Kutama is seen to have imploded on the basis of marginalized sentiments. Once having been one of the most loyal dāʿīs to al-Mahdī, al-Shīʿī had led a rebellion against his former Imam on charges of being a false mahdī. Ultimately this campaign was pacified, resulting in the execution of al Shīʿī. This chapter also reveals new characters who later became prominent figures in Fatimid history. The heir apparent or Prince Abū’l-Qāsim Muḥammad, the eldest son of al-Mahdī, already took up much of his father’s duties while his own son, Ismāʿīl or al-Manṣūr bi’llāh (‘the One Who is Victorious by God’) was entrusted by the sitting Imam, al-Mahdī (his grandfather), as his most faithful confidant (39). The port city of al-Mahdiyya which had been con- structed by the Fatimids in 916 is described as having been unique in its architectural design and strategic in its location. Al-Mahdiyya served as the new Mediterranean capital and had secured the Fatimids a booming com mercial fabric. Similarly, the city of Palermo in Sicily had been occupied by the Fatimids and had also brought a great deal of cultural exchange and goods. Jiwa brings out images of palaces and charts out maps of the port city to provide visual comprehension of the architecture. Chapter three surveys the reign of al-Manṣūr, discussing his ascension to power under fraught circumstances and his construction of a new city. This chapter focuses attention on the reconstruction of Palermo in vivid archaeological detail. Readers are informed of the Khariji rebellion from Ifrīqiya spearheaded by Abū Yazīd al-Nukkarī. The Kharijis are described to have been insurmountable by the Fatimids, pushing their Empire as far back as to the Mediterranean coast of al-Mahdiyya (60). It was not until al-Ḥasan b. ‘Alī al-Kalbī, the governor of Tunis, and his army pushed back against the Kharijis that the North African coastland would be recaptured (61). Despite this, the Kharijis were too difficult to overcome and remained at conflict with the Fatimids up until the death of Abū’l-Qāsim. Fearful that news of Abū’l-Qāsim’s death would puncture the morale of the Fatimid war effort, al-Manṣūr had managed to keep the news of his father’s passing silent. After an eventful encounter, al-Manṣūr would eventually go on to defeat Abū Yazīd’s army and restore Fatimid rule. Following this victory, al-Manṣūr began taking restorative measures to recover the now war-torn society. Socially considerate policies such as charity stipends, the appoint- ment of a Sunni-based Maliki judge, and omission of taxes were all strides in this effort. But the most significant of his developments was the con- struction of a new capital called Manṣūriyya. Much of this city’s structural inspiration came from the North African ancient ruins al-Manṣūr had been enchanted by (68). Jiwa’s training as a historian is evident in how she cites primary sources every chance she gets, from sermons to testimonies. Clos- ing this chapter, Jiwa provides an anecdote recorded by al-Nuʿmān which romantically relays the moment al-Manṣūr knew that his son, al-Muʿizz li-Dīn Allāh, was ready to ascend to power (77). Jiwa’s anecdotes connect the reader to the ethos of Fatimid personalities. Chapter four delves into the reign of al-Manṣūr’s heir, al-Muʿizz (953- 75), who came into conflict with both the Umayyads and the Byzantines during his reign and would later live out his final days in his new capital, al-Qāhira al-Muʿizziya (‘the Victorious City of al-Muʿizz’)—modern-day Cairo (78). Beyond the royal family, Jiwa presents key stalwarts that the Em- pire was indebted to. Once servant to al-Mahdī, Jawhar, who was of Slavic origin, had risen through the ranks (serving both as scribe and commander in battle), eventually being entrusted with many honorable state positions. This chapter is the longest one of the book and attempts to accomplish many things. Along with discussing the battles which ensued during this juncture, Jiwa also fleshes out the theology of Ismaili beliefs. Al-Nuʿmān is said to have written extensively on the topic—including his text written between 958 and 960, Daʿā’im al-Islām (‘Pillars of Islam’), which delineates such fundamental concepts to Ismaili theology as walāya (allegiance and obedience), īmān (faith), ẓāhir (exoteric), and bāṭin (esoteric) (88-89). The early Fatimid age is described as having been a milieu of knowledge seek- ing, with debates and lectures taking place on a frequent basis. Through the majālis (teaching sessions) program, the Ismaili doctrine would proliferate to the broader society. Jiwa’s text is filled with firsthand accounts which describe Fatimid institutions, ceremonies, and events, providing vivid pic- tures of what is being described (e.g., al-Nuʿmān’s description of the grand circumcision ceremony hosted in 962 and Ibn Haytham’s description of the diversity of attendees and tailoring of lessons in the majālis by teach- ers such as Aflaḥ b. Hārūn al-Mālūsī, 95). The tension between the Uma- yyads in Spain and the Fatimids is also presented in this chapter, depicted as stemming from their varying loyalties in the rivalry between ‘Alī b. Abī Ṭālib and Muʿāwiya. The coastal regions of the Mediterranean and North Africa would see many conflicts between the Fatimids and Umayyads; the Umayyads and the Byzantines worked together to suppress their Fatimid adversary, with the Byzantines launching campaigns on the parts of the Empire closest to Sicily while the Umayyads attacked the most western part. After briefly losing parts of their North African territories, the Fatimids eventually reasserted their control over the Maghrib, leaving the Umayyads no choice but to resort to a peace treaty (103). The Ismaili daʿwā reached far and wide, with its message gaining adherents from the Gulf of Yemen to as far as Sind. Jiwa also describes the Kalbid dynasty of Fatimid Sicily, which had come under the governorship of al-Ḥasan al-Kalbī. During this period (960-65), Sicily had been the site of intense warfare between the Fatimids and the Byzantines, with two distinct battles resulting in the most pivotal outcomes for the region, namely the Pit and the Straits (119). Like the Umayyads, the Byzantines would also later come to negotiate terms of peace with the Fatimids in 958 (116). Chapter five speaks to the venture the Fatimids made into Egypt in 966. Here, readers are presented with the terms acknowledged by local nobles such as Sharīf Abū Jaʿfar Muslim al-Ḥusaynī and the Fatimids, the founding of the new capital (al-Qāhira), and the relocation of al-Muʿizz along with a significant portion of the Manṣūriyyan population in 972. The chapter serves as both a close to the book and a cliffhanger for the second volume of the series (which turns to Fatimid rule in Egypt under the son of al-Muʿizz, Niẓār b. al-Muʿizz). Capturing the cohesive religious fabric of Fatimid rule, Jiwa notes that al-Muʿizz pledged to maintain Sunni religious life while ruling over Egypt (126); she describes pillars of Sunni Islam that can serve as points of contrast to the Ismaili tradition (127). Individuals who can justly be seen as archetypes of the Fatimid intel- ligentsia are referenced both biographically and through their works. Jiwa introduces her readers to eminent characters including missionaries like Abū Yaʿqūb al-Sijistānī of Khurāsān (d. after 971); writers and thinkers who composed the Fatimid ideology such as Qāḍī al-Nuʿmān; poets who gave inspiration such as Muḥammad b. Hānī; and generals who rendered their lives for the Fatimid Empire such as al-Ḥasan b. ‘Ali al-Kalbī. Although some readers may be frustrated by the detail of jumping back and forth across names, dates, and events, those who are able to follow the work the- matically will certainly find this work to be nothing short of informative. Jiwa impressively condenses a rich and fluid history into few pages while including the most essential elements, people, and institutions making up this period. Readers are provided with visual aids (maps, family tree charts, and city maps) to help identify and locations and structures which would otherwise come off as abstract and jargon-heavy. In addition, she includes colorful images of important monuments such as mosques, coins, and ar- tifacts. Ameen OmarMA, Islamic Studies & HistoryThe George Washington University

Abstract This article examines Claude McKay’s 1928 journey to Africa under colonial occupation and uncovers how these true events partly inspired his late work of expatriate fiction, Romance in Marseille. By bringing together migration studies with literary history, the article challenges and expands existing research that suggests that McKay’s writings register the impulse for a nomadic wandering away from oppressive forms of identity control set up in the wake of World War I. The article contends that Claude McKay’s renegade cast of “bad nationalist” characters registers a generative tension between the imperial national forms the author encountered in North Africa and the Black nationalist vision of Marcus Garvey’s Back-to-Africa campaign. Reading the dialectics of bad nationalisms and Black internationalisms, the article explores how the utopian promise for Black liberation by returning back to Africa, central to the New Negro project of Black advancement, frequently becomes entangled in McKay’s transnational stowaway fiction with conflicting calls for reparations, liabilities, and shipping damages.

Libya at the beginning of this century had little to offer the would-be imperialist and coloniser. The true value of Turkey's last remaining African possessions was not — despite the insistence of the Italian nationalist lobby — as a settler-colony or as a gateway to the largely illusory wealth of central Africa, but as a strategic base on the central Mediterranean. The general poverty of Ottoman Tripolitania and Cyrenaica was reflected indeed in the poverty of the literature in any language on contemporary Libya.But growing Italian interest in these territories, by 1900 almost the last parts of Africa unclaimed by any European power, generated a series of books and articles by an imperialist-nationalist lobby eager to prove the case that Italy's political, strategic, economic and social wellbeing depended on the immediate possession of Turkish North Africa. Such writings naturally generated a rather less voluminous counter-flow of material, mainly from socialist sources, putting the opposite and (as events were to prove) essentially more realistic case.The outbreak of the Italo-Turkish war in September 1911 and the subsequent Italian occupation of bridgeheads at Tripoli, Horns, Benghazi, Derna and Tobruk first brought Libya to the notice of the international press. The British correspondents who reported one or other side of the conflict subsequently produced a number of surprisingly partisan books about the war and their own adventures in it, but had very much less to say about the little-understood country and its people. With the sudden end of the war in 1912 and the outbreak of more serious fighting in the Balkans, interest in Libya quickly waned. For the next 30 years nearly all the relevant literature was to be provided by Italians, in Italian and written from a purely Italian point of view — some of it later to be destroyed in the antifascist and anti-imperialist reaction from 1943 onwards.

In November 1899 The Times published a letter from a correspondent in Enniskillen recalling the army’s recruiting parades when he was a boy:The recruiting party — members of the regiment stationed here — usually fell in about 2 o’clock. There were two rows of non-commissioned officers (sergeants) in front, with swords drawn and ribbons streaming from their caps, then came the band playing spirit-stirring airs, a few rows of corporals forming the rear. Their appearance was quite imposing and invariably attracted a large crowd of stalwart peasant lads, as well as town youths and others. And it was certainly calculated to inspire a military enthusiasm in the breasts of the people . . . and many a fine young fellow, becoming enamoured of the service, was induced to accompany the party to the barracks and finally take the shilling.Only weeks before the Boer War had broken out, and the question of seducing ‘stalwart peasant lads’ to ‘take the shilling’ was becoming one of acute political concern in Ireland. For the Boer War was ‘nearly as crucial an event for Irish nationalism as the death of Parnell’. The sight of England engaged in a major colonial war and, in the early months, being ‘worsted in the game’ stimulated national sentiment: ‘the feeling against the British government was brought out in a remarkable manner, owing to the difficulties of the South African War’. Yet there were thousands of Irishmen in Britain’s army in South Africa.

Australian and Eritrean early childhood educators are working together to establish early childhood education in Eritrea. Eritrea, in East Africa, devastated by a 30-year war and severe droughts, is rebuilding from scratch with minimal resources. In a country with some nine ethnic groups and languages, as well as three main religions, fundamental questions have to be asked about the role and nature of early childhood education. Australian early childhood educators in Eritrea are learning a great deal about the management of multicultural and multilingual communities; Eritrean early childhood educators are in turn learning a great deal from their Australian counterparts about an holistic approach to education which, through a range of strategies, seeks to meet the social, emotional, physical, intellectual, and developmental needs of the Eritrean children. All members of this team are involved in a patient campaign to effect change and are aware that education in such an environment is a political act.

Archival materials from Budapest and Warsaw have shed valuable light on the role that Hungary and Poland played as intermediaries between Washington and Hanoi during the 37-day pause in the U.S. bombing campaign against North Vietnam in December 1965–January 1966. It is now possible to trace contacts between the East European countries and Hanoi and to see how the Hungarian and Polish governments coordinated their diplomatic activities with the Soviet Union. Although the new evidence does not reveal any “missed opportunities” in early 1966 for the opening of direct peace negotiations between Washington and Hanoi, it does cast doubt on the way that former U.S. officials and most historians have interpreted these events. Up to now, almost all accounts have dismissed Hungary's and Poland's efforts as insincere and deceptive, and some observers have even questioned whether the two countries were genuinely in contact with North Vietnamese leaders. The documentary evidence leaves many questions unanswered, but it permits a far more nuanced assessment of East European diplomacy during the bombing pause.

This essay sketches an explanation for the global spread of civil war up to the early 1990s and the partial recession since then, arguing that some of the decline is likely due to policy responses by major powers working principally through the United Nations. Unfortunately, the spread of civil war and state collapse to the Middle East and North Africa region in the last fifteen years has posed one set of problems that the current policy repertoire cannot address well–for several reasons, conflicts in this region are resistant to “treatment” by international peacekeeping operations–and has highlighted a second, deeper problem whose effects are gradually worsening and for which there does not appear to be any good solution within the constraints of the present UN system. That is, for many civil war–torn or “postconflict” countries, third parties do not know how to help locals build a self-governing, self-financing state within UN-recognized borders or, in some cases, any borders.

This paper contributes to a growing body of literature on the socio-economic impact of the Second World War on Africa. The focus is on the inter-relationship between the state, settler farmers and African labour in Southern Rhodesia. The war presented an opportunity for undercapitalized European farmers to enlist state support in securing African labour that they could not obtain through market forces alone. Historically, these farmers depended heavily on a supply of cheap labour from the Native Reserves and from the colonies to the north, especially Nyasaland. But the opportunities for Africans to sell their labour in other sectors of the Southern Rhodesian economy and in the Union of South Africa, or to at least determine the timing and length of their entry into wage employment, meant that settler farmers seldom obtained an adequate supply of labour. Demands for increased food production, a wartime agrarian crisis and a diminished supply of external labour all combined to ensure that the state capitulated in the face of requests for Africans to be conscripted into working for Europeans as a contribution to the Imperial war effort. The resulting mobilization of thousands of African labourers under the Compulsory Native Labour Act (1942), which emerged as the prize of the farmers' campaign for coerced labour, corrects earlier scholarship on Southern Rhodesia which asserted that state intervention in securing labour supplies was of importance only up to the 1920s. The paper also shows that Africans did not remain passive before measures aimed at coercing them into producing value for settler farmers.

In the late 18th and early 19th centuries, there was a presentation which was dominated in Britain about romantic Andalusia, which has hidden Islamic heritage of past centuries, and only the most courageous traveler can decide to take in a journey to it. With the beginning of the Napoleonic Wars and the Pyrenean campaign of the French army, everything had changed, and British soldiers became “travelers in red uniforms”. Some of them visited occupied by the French troops Andalusia in 1810—1812. This article attempts to view Andalusia as a “frontier” between Europe and Africa and to reconstruct the image of southwestern Spain in the narratives of British participants of military operations on the Iberian Peninsula. The author analyzes the peculiarities of the relationship of British officers with local inhabitants, as well as with soldiers of the enemy army, the French and the Poles, and reveals the specificity of the British perception of allies and enemies in Andalusia the context of the Spanish War of Independence.

In mid-1995, walking out of the door of my house, I received a telephone call. On the other end of the line was a distinct, well-spoken, but clearly faraway male voice. The man introduced himself, saying:My name is Vusi Kaunda, calling from Johannesburg, South Africa. I recently read an article you wrote about the YMCA, referring to events that took place some 75 years ago. I have been working for the South African YMCA for 10 years and I never knew anything about all this. Where did you get your information?Conditions did not permit us to take this conversation to its logical conclusion. I was on the way to conduct a history class; we had clearly connected at an inconvenient time. But that verbal exchange has stayed on my mind ever since. It demonstrated the power of the written word to connect people separated by thousands of miles, yet discover that they have a common purpose. Ours is to tell the story of the African voice in a new inclusive historiography of South Africa's Young Men's Christian Association.My discovery of the YMCA of South Africa came as a result of researching the life of Max Yergan, an African-American YMCA Secretary who, representing the “jim crow” “Colored Work” Department of a segregated North American YMCA, entered the Union of South Africa after considerable opposition, on the second day of January 1922. This was Yergan's third overseas posting and second African assignment, the first being in Kenya, and then Tanganyika during the East Africa campaign of World War I. He had joined the YMCA as a Shaw University sophomore in Raleigh, North Carolina in 1911, rapidly rising in its ranks to become a national figure in their Black “Y” network. Yergan became the third “non-white” YMCA Traveling Secretary in South Africa and the first to attempt to do so on a full-time basis, succeeding J. K. Bokwe and D. D. T. Jabavu.

Though a multidisciplinary field, Middle East studies has historically had little engagement with the theoretical and methodological contributions of the discipline of geography. In the wake of the Arab Spring, there was a turning point, as scholars of the region noted the importance of public space to the uprisings, thus sparking engaging debates about urban spatial politics. In fact, Middle East studies is not alone in its newfound affinity to geography; a shift to what many have called “the spatial turn” across the social sciences and humanities has put geography in the limelight. Geography is in fact the original “area” studies—geographers of the early 20th century saw the main rationale of their discipline as identifying and describing regions, and the region was the core geographical concept. The post–World War II area studies boom occurred much at the expense of the discipline; after Harvard University closed its geography program in 1948, the University of Pennsylvania, Yale University, Columbia University, and other Ivy League schools soon followed and Title VI essentially led to the closing of numerous other geography programs around the country—including Stanford University, the University of Michigan, Northwestern University, and the University of Chicago. A growing sentiment within the ivory tower found the discipline too ambiguous and asserted that a university did not need geography to be a great institution.

In the course of bibliographical work on volume 7 of the Cambridge History of Africa, I realized that there was no guide to film as a historical source for this or any other period in African history. Lists had been made of films on Africa available for loan or hire in the U.S.A., but no one had tried to list at all comprehensively what had actually been made or what had survived. I therefore decided to compile such a guide myself, tracing the making of non–fiction film in Africa from early days up to 1940: this seemed a suitable cutoff date, since it was clear that from the Second World War the scale of filmmaking in Africa, as elsewhere, increased very considerably, and in any case was beginning to attract the attention of historians.I was emboldened in this project by the publication in 1980 of the non–fiction catalog of the British National Film Archive. This immediately showed that a wide variety of relevant films had been not only made, but preserved, and for several there are viewing as well as archive copies. Unfortunately, there is no equivalent published catalog for any other major film archive. I have been able, however, to glean much information from a variety of guides, filmographies, and historical studies. Among lists of films in archival collections, the most useful were those in the U.S. of UNESCO for ethnographic films, McClintock for films on North Africa, and South's guide to African materials in the U.S. federal archives.

ABSTRACTIn 1916 a warlord named Oorlog – ‘war’, in Afrikaans – moved into the Kaokoveld in the far north-west of what is now Namibia, and drove off the original inhabitants. Shortly after, Oorlog was formally recognized as a chief by the newly established South African administration and elevated to the highest position of power in the Kaokoveld. This article, through investigating how Oorlog came to be elevated to this position of power, explores issues of colonial governance and personal relationships. By focusing on the micropolitics of the Kaokoveld, it emphasizes how interpersonal relationships – not bureaucratic structures – were of crucial importance in the establishment and maintenance of early colonial rule in Africa.

-Sidney W. Mintz, Paget Henry ,C.L.R. James' Caribbean. Durham: Duke University Press, 1992. xvi + 287 pp., Paul Buhle (eds)-Allison Blakely, Jan M. van der Linde, Over Noach met zijn zonen: De Cham-ideologie en de leugens tegen Cham tot vandaag. Utrecht: Interuniversitair Instituut voor Missiologie en Oecumenica, 1993. 160 pp.-Helen I. Safa, Edna Acosta-Belén ,Researching women in Latin America and the Caribbean. Boulder CO: Westview, 1993. x + 201 pp., Christine E. Bose (eds)-Helen I. Safa, Janet H. Momsen, Women & change in the Caribbean: A Pan-Caribbean Perspective. Bloomington: Indiana University Press; Kingston: Ian Randle, 1993. x + 308 pp.-Paget Henry, Janet Higbie, Eugenia: The Caribbean's Iron Lady. London: Macmillan, 1993. 298 pp.-Kathleen E. McLuskie, Moira Ferguson, Subject to others: British women writers and Colonial Slavery 1670-1834. New York: Routledge, 1992. xii + 465 pp.-Samuel Martínez, Senaida Jansen ,Género, trabajo y etnia en los bateyes dominicanos. Santo Domingo: Instituto Tecnológico de Santo Domingo, Programa de Estudios se la Mujer, 1991. 195 pp., Cecilia Millán (eds)-Michiel Baud, Roberto Cassá, Movimiento obrero y lucha socialista en la República Dominicana (desde los orígenes hasta 1960). Santo Domingo: Fundación Cultural Dominicana, 1990. 620 pp.-Paul Farmer, Robert Lawless, Haiti's Bad Press. Rochester VT: Schenkman Press, 1992. xxvii + 261 pp.-Bill Maurer, Karen Fog Olwig, Global culture, Island identity: Continuity and change in the Afro-Caribbean Community of Nevis. Chur, Switzerland: Harwood Academic Publishers, 1993. xi + 239 pp.-Viranjini Munasinghe, Kevin A. Yelvington, Trinidad Ethnicity. Knoxville: University of Tennesee Press, 1993. vii + 296 pp.-Kevin K. Birth, Christine Ho, Salt-water Trinnies: Afro-Trinidadian Immigrant Networks and Non-Assimilation in Los Angeles. New York: AMS Press, 1991. xvi + 237 pp.-Steven Gregory, Andrés Isidoro Pérez y Mena, Speaking with the dead: Development of Afro-Latin Religion among Puerto Ricans in the United States. A study into the Interpenetration of civilizations in the New World. New York: AMS Press, 1991. xvi + 273 pp.-Frank Jan van Dijk, Mihlawhdh Faristzaddi, Itations of Jamaica and I Rastafari (The Second Itation, the Revelation). Miami: Judah Anbesa Ihntahnah-shinahl, 1991.-Derwin S. Munroe, Nelson W. Keith ,The Social Origins of Democratic Socialism in Jamaica. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1992. xxiv + 320 pp., Novella Z. Keith (eds)-Virginia Heyer Young, Errol Miller, Education for all: Caribbean Perspectives and Imperatives. Washington DC: Inter-American Development Bank, 1992. 267 pp.-Virginia R. Dominguez, Günter Böhm, Los sefardíes en los dominios holandeses de América del Sur y del Caribe, 1630-1750. Frankfurt: Vervuert, 1992. 243 pp.-Virginia R. Dominguez, Robert M. Levine, Tropical diaspora: The Jewish Experience in Cuba. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1993. xvii + 398 pp.-Aline Helg, John L. Offner, An unwanted war: The diplomacy of the United States and Spain over Cuba, 1895-1898. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1992. xii + 306 pp.-David J. Carroll, Eliana Cardoso ,Cuba after Communism. Cambridge MA: MIT Press, 1992. xiii + 148 pp., Ann Helwege (eds)-Antoni Kapcia, Ian Isadore Smart, Nicolás Guillén: Popular Poet of the Caribbean. Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1990. 187 pp.-Sue N. Greene, Moira Ferguson, The Hart Sisters: Early African Caribbean Writers, Evangelicals, and Radicals. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1993. xi + 214 pp.-Michael Craton, James A. Lewis, The final campaign of the American revolution: Rise and fall of the Spanish Bahamas. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1991. xi + 149 pp.-David Geggus, Clarence J. Munford, The black ordeal of slavery and slave trading in the French West Indies, 1625-1715. Lewiston NY: The Edwin Mellen Press, 1991. 3 vols. xxii + 1054 pp.-Paul E. Sigmund, Timothy P. Wickham-Crowley, Guerillas and Revolution in Latin America: A comparative Study of Insurgents and Regimes since 1956. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992. xx + 424 pp.-Robert E. Millette, Patrick A.M. Emmanuel, Elections and Party Systems in the Commonwealth Caribbean, 1944-1991. St. Michael, Barbados: Caribbean Development Research Services, 1992. viii + 111 pp.-Robert E. Millette, Donald C. Peters, The Democratic System in the Eastern Caribbean. Westport CT: Greenwood Press, 1992. xiv + 242 pp.-Pedro A. Cabán, Arnold H. Liebowitz, Defining status: A comprehensive analysis of United States Territorial Relations. Boston & Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff, 1989. xxii + 757 pp.-John O. Stewart, Stuart H. Surlin ,Mass media and the Caribbean. New York: Gordon & Breach, 1990. xviii + 471 pp., Walter C. Soderlund (eds)-William J. Meltzer, Antonio V. Menéndez Alarcón, Power and television in Latin America: The Dominican Case. Westport CT: Praeger, 1992. 199 pp.

By 1939 expectations in France of a major colonial contribution to the impending war effort were high. The idea of le salut par l'empire, literally ‘salvation by the empire’, even gained some currency among ministers, officials, and the wider public. This article examines the nature of the economic and military demands imposed on France's major overseas territories in the immediate pre-war years, focusing on the two pre-eminent colonial groupings of the empire: French North Africa and the Indochina federation. It suggests that colonial economies and working populations were poorly placed to meet French expectations of them. The colonies were severely affected by the economic depression of the early 1930s and slower to recover than metropolitan France. Structural economic difficulties imposed limits on the mobilization of colonial resources, a problem made appreciably worse by the earlier disagreements among ministers, colonial officials, and business leaders over the merits of colonial industrialization. The reversal of planned social and constitutional reforms after 1936 added to the political volatility and social divisions of colonial societies as war drew near.

This was how the Public Advertiser greeted the passage of the Quebec Act through parliament in June 1774. It was a remarkable transformation from the ecstasy evident in newspaper reports that greeted the fall of New France in 1760. As early as November 1759 the city of Nottingham singled out the North American campaign as the glorious core of British strategy. Its loyal address congratulated the king ‘particularly upon the defeat of the French army in Canada, and the taking of Quebec; an acquisition not less honourable to your majesty's forces, than destructive of the trade and commerce and power of France in North America’. What occurred in those fourteen years to produce such a stark revision of views on the conquest of New France? The answer can be found partly by surveying the English press for this period. During these years, treatment of Canadian issues in the press displayed quite distinct characteristics that revealed a whole range of attitudes and opinions on the place Canada held in the future of the North American empire. No consensus on this issue ever existed. Debate on Canada mirrored a wider discussion on the future of the polyglot empire acquired at the end of the Seven Years War in 1763. In ranged from the enthusiasm of officials at Westminster to spokesmen of a strain in English thinking that challenged the whole thrust of imperial policy to date.

Life and religion at Louisbourg, 1713–1758. By A. J. B. Johnston. London: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1984, paperback edition, 1996. Pp. xxxii+227. ISBN 0-7735-1525-9. £12.95.The New Orleans Cabildo: Colonial Louisiana's first city government, 1769–1803. By Gilbert C. Din and John E. Harkins. London: Louisiana State University Press, 1996. Pp. xvii+330. ISBN 0-8071-2042-1. £42.75.Revolution, romanticism, and the Afro-Creole protest tradition in Louisiana, 1718–1868. By Caryn Cossé Bell. London: Louisiana State University Press, 1997. Pp. xv+325. ISBN 0-8071-2096-0. £32.95.Hopeful journeys: German immigration, settlement and political culture in colonial America, 1717–1775. By Aaron Spencer Fogleman. Pennsylvania: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1996. Pp. xii+257. ISBN 0-8122-1548-6. £15.95.Britannia lost the war of American independence but still reigns over the historiography of colonial North America. This is a problem now that historians of early America have embarked on an attempt to apply an Atlantic world perspective to colonial development. The complex web of human, cultural, economic, and political encounters and exchanges among Europe, Africa, and the Americas spreads well beyond the familiar terrain of Britain and its thirteen mainland colonies. While the histories of Indians and enslaved Africans are beginning to find their way into the historical narrative of early America to challenge the British hegemony, non-British Europeans remain virtually invisible, except as opponents in the imperial wars that punctuated the colonial era. These four books illustrate obstacles that must be overcome to remedy this gap and offer glimpses of the rewards to be gained by drawing the history of continental Europeans previously treated as peripheral into the centre of the major debates currently shaping early American history.

The article provides the first part of translation into Russian of the book VI of «Shincho̅-ko̅ ki», one of the major sources on the history of Japan of the 16th century. Book VI contains a copy of the 17 articles admonitions by Oda Nobunaga addressed to the sho̅gun Ashikaga Yoshiaki. In this document, Nobunaga reproached his master for self-will, selfishness and injustice. The appearance of the instructions testified to the intensification of the power struggle between the sho̅gun and Nobunaga. Book VI narrates about the sho̅gun’s open war against Nobunaga, who was in the ring of enemies in early 1573 — Takeda Shingen, the houses of Azai and Asakurа, the followers of the True Pure Land School, led by Honganji, and other opponents sought to coordinate their actions closely. In this situation, Nobunaga spared no effort to negotiate a peace with Yoshiaki. However, the truce was fragile; the shogun again challenged his powerful vassal, who moved the army to the capital, and then forced the suzerain, who was besieged in Makinoshima castle, to surrender, and sent him into exile. For O̅ta Gyu̅ichi, the author of the chronicle, the shogun after breaking up with Nobunaga turned into an “enemy of the realm”, his sympathy is definitely on the side of Nobunaga. In addition, scroll VI tells about the victorious end of the military campaign against the houses of Asakura and Azai, whose heads were forced to commit seppuku, as well as Nobunaga’s campaign in the north of Ise province with the aim of subjugating the local samurai clans, many of whom cooperated with the forces of Ikko̅-ikki.

Given the 2017 coup in Zimbabwe, a rare event in Southern Africa but sadly common in the rest of the continent, this paper discusses the beginnings of the politicization of the Zimbabwe Defence Forces (ZDF) during the 1980s. At the end of the country’s war for independence in 1980, the ZDF formed as an amalgamation of former Rhodesian state military personnel and insurgents from the liberation movements of the Zimbabwe African People’s Union (ZAPU) and the Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU). Personnel from ZANU came to dominate Zimbabwe’s new military given the lack of a specific agreement over the integration process, their numerical superiority, and ZANU’s electoral success that gave it political power. During the ZDF integration exercise of the early 1980s, British advisors attempted to create a Western-style force but acted pragmatically while North Korean instructors helped create an overtly ZANU affiliated brigade and party militia. In addition, South African destabilization and the rapid departure of former Rhodesian officers gave way to the accelerated promotion of former insurgents mostly affiliated with the ZANU government. Lastly, the further ZANU-ization of the ZDF occurred within the context of operations in southwestern Zimbabwe where it eliminated ZAPU as an opposition political movement and committed atrocities, and in Mozambique where Zimbabwean troops cooperated with allies from overtly politicized armies of neighboring states

To nineteenth and early twentieth-century scholarship, the early modern expansion of powers like Spain, Portugal, England and Holland, was a necessary preliminary step towards Europe's ultimate domination of the Asian and African continents. Moreover, the relative ease with which colonial powers manhandled regions like North Africa and the Indo-Pak subcontinent suggested that their early modern ‘pioneering’ counterparts must have shared similar experiences. While some historians highlighted superior business concepts (joint-stock companies, profit-sharing) or superior shipbuilding and navigation techniques as the means with which trading powers like the Estado da India and the English East India Company penetrated and overwhelmed Indian Ocean commerce, other scholars boiled it down to the European affinity for using ‘men-of-war, gun, and shot’. The critical underlying assumption of any of these teleological explanations s i that ‘encountered’ cultures were unable to adequately respond to European technology, of course hinting at some deeper and more profound deficiency. Scholarship in recent decades has shorn such confidence and begun to scrutinise this seedling period of interaction between Europe and non-Europe, suggesting that the initial playing ground between ‘encounterer’ and ‘encountered’ was perhaps more level than previously portrayed.

To nineteenth and early twentieth-century scholarship, the early modern expansion of powers like Spain, Portugal, England and Holland, was a necessary preliminary step towards Europe's ultimate domination of the Asian and African continents. Moreover, the relative ease with which colonial powers manhandled regions like North Africa and the Indo-Pak subcontinent suggested that their early modern ‘pioneering’ counterparts must have shared similar experiences. While some historians highlighted superior business concepts (joint-stock companies, profit-sharing) or superior shipbuilding and navigation techniques as the means with which trading powers like the Estado da India and the English East India Company penetrated and overwhelmed Indian Ocean commerce, other scholars boiled it down to the European affinity for using ‘men-of-war, gun, and shot’. The critical underlying assumption of any of these teleological explanations s i that ‘encountered’ cultures were unable to adequately respond to European technology, of course hinting at some deeper and more profound deficiency. Scholarship in recent decades has shorn such confidence and begun to scrutinise this seedling period of interaction between Europe and non-Europe, suggesting that the initial playing ground between ‘encounterer’ and ‘encountered’ was perhaps more level than previously portrayed.

Using new evidence on the British, French and North American slave-carrying trades, this article seeks to revise Lovejoy's recently published estimates of the levels of slave exports from West and West-Central Africa in the eighteenth century. The figures suggest that Lovejoy's estimate of the total volume of slave exports from the west coast of Africa to America between 1700 and 1810 was probably reasonably accurate, being only 8 per cent lower than the total indicated here. However, the new data reveal temporal and coastal distributions of slave exports that differ substantially from those proposed by Lovejoy. In particular, they suggest that previous work significantly understated levels of slave exports between 1713 and 1740, and again in the 1760s and 1770s. Contrary to earlier findings, in fact, it appears that slave exports from the west coast of Africa to America in the decade prior to the War of American Independence were very similar to levels attained after 1783. Furthermore, in terms of coastal distributions, it seems that the Bight of Biafra and West-Central Africa, particularly the Loango coast, contributed much more substantially to the slave traffic to America during the early decades of the century than was previously assumed. These revisions of Lovejoy's figures have important implications for movements in slave prices in Africa and for assessing the demographic effects of the trade on the slave-supplying regions. In addition, they help to improve our understanding of the relationship between the slave trade and changes in sugar and other commodity production in America during the eighteenth century.

Usually seen as actors with limited political agency, captives and slaves are, in this essay, at the core of complex diplomatic negotiations between two political authorities in a cross-confessional context. The case study presents a group of enslaved Christians in Algiers at the beginning of the seventeenth century working to restore a disrupted communication system between Spain and a rebel Muslim lord at war with the Ottomans. This lord, called Amar ben Amar bel Cadi, ruled the tiny city of Kuko and its region in the Djurdjura range (in present-day Kabylia). The goal of the Spanish military collaboration with him was to take Algiers and weaken the Ottoman Empire in North Africa. The paper argues that the captives’ initiative must be understood both as diplomacy “from below” and as a cross-confessional model of loyalty. Furthermore, it compels us to re-think the agency of actors in imperial encounters and to reject the topos—often implicit in contemporary historical essays—that religious affiliation conditioned political loyalty.

Abstract This article offers a corrective to the way in which the history of reconstruction and the construction of whiteness in the early decade of the 1900s in South Africa has been understood. In the aftermath of the Anglo-Boer War in 1902, South Africa on the whole and, in particular, the Transvaal Colony not only experienced economic instability, but also a crisis in the black-white racial hierarchy. This article shows that even though the presence of indentured laborers from North China was a threat to the livelihood of English workingmen and Afrikaner farmers, their presence helped to strengthen a racial division of labor and regime that privileged white men. The restrictions attached to the recruitment of indentured Chinese labor to work in the gold mining industry in the Transvaal clearly defined who would be regarded as the cheap and unskilled laborers. Additionally, the means of control resorted to by the industry and colonial government in response to their disturbances and riots, desertions, breaking into white peoples’ homes, and murdering of Afrikaner farmers treated non-white peoples as pariah, subject to control and exclusion. The sense of control and authority resorted to by the Dutch- and English-speaking peoples against this backdrop engendered a kind of racial coalescence among Afrikaners and English as whites.

Samuel Victor Perry (1918–2009) was a biochemist who was born in the Isle of Wight, moved shortly thereafter to King’s Lynn, Norfolk, and then spent the greater part of his youth in Southport, Lancashire. His undergraduate education and early research at Liverpool University were followed by army service for the duration of World War II. After his capture in North Africa he spent much of the war as a prisoner of war, during which time his several escapes became the stuff of legends. In 1946 he began research towards his PhD degree at Cambridge University on the protein chemistry of muscle, a central theme in which he was actively engaged for more than 60 years. These were his halcyon days—member of a leading research group in muscle, alongside distinguished achievements as an English rugby international. After a Cambridge University lectureship he was appointed Head of Biochemistry in Birmingham University in 1959—a post he occupied with distinction until retirement, elevating his department to one of international stature. Among his many contributions to the protein biochemistry of muscle contraction and its regulation were the discovery of skeletal muscle myosin phosphorylation, whose significance is still a field of active research, and the recognition that the presence of the cardiac protein troponin I in the bloodstream could be used as a diagnostic marker of myocardial infarction. Perry was an inveterate gardener, especially happy in his beloved Felin Werndew, a beautiful retreat in Dinas Cross, Pembrokeshire. In August 1948 he married Maureen Shaw. She and their son and two daughters survive him.

AbstractCharles Frederick (Freddie) Hedges (1886–1920), his brother Elven Everett Hedges (1889–1931), and Jesse Jacobson (1882–1959) converged as Hedges Brothers and Jacobson in 1910 in San Francisco. Elven played piano, saxophone, and guitar, and all three sang and danced. In 1910–11, critics in San Francisco, Chicago, New York, and smaller cities greeted the act as something new and exceptionally good. Instead of pursuing more general fame in North America, the trio accepted a music-hall contract in England, where they became leaders in creating a craze for American ragtime singing, a craze that prepared the English public for the momentous arrival of jazz after the First World War. The trio recorded eight released songs for Columbia in 1912–13. In 1913, they also performed in Paris and South Africa. In 1914, after eight months back in the United States, they returned to English success but soon dissolved the act and performed separately until 1919, when they reunited to accept an unprecedented contract (£30,000 for six years). Early in 1920, Freddie killed himself. Forest Tell (b. 1888) replaced him in the trio, and the new group recorded six released songs for Zonophone in 1920. The trio disbanded at the end of the contract. Elven retired shortly afterward, but Jesse stayed in show business at least through World War II.

The Historical Context: The Crisis of Political Order, 1680–1750In the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries the ‘Slave Coast’ of West Africa suffered increasingly severe problems of disorder, which seem to have been in large part a consequence of the impact of the Atlantic slave trade. These disorders involved not only wars among the major states but also (in at least some cases) the weakening of political authority within states. The most obvious aspect of this dissolution of authority was the decline in the power of the kingdom of Allada, which had earlier exercised some degree of suzerainty over most if not all of the other states in the area. Among the tributaries of Allada which repudiated its authority was the kingdom of Whydah (Hueda), on the coast to the south-west, which was already effectively independent by the 1680s, and which even went to war with Allada in 1691–92 and again in 1714–17. The kingdom of Fon, or Dahomey, in the interior north of Allada, was originally also a dependency of Allada, but is recorded to have revolted and asserted its independence in 1715.

The historiography of the Sanusiyya, if one can apply such a term to the literary crop of roughly a century dealing with this North Africantarīqa(pl.turuq, Sufi brotherhood), falls into three distinct categories. The earliest writings appeared in the 1880s, thirty years after the tariqa had taken root in Cyrenaica (then the Ottoman province of Benghazi). The works of French authors such as Charmes, Rinn, Duveyrier, Le Chatelier, and co-authors Depont and Coppolani were all marked by the concerns of the French colonial and protectorate authorities in Algeria and Tunisia. According to Duveyrier, a Saharan explorer of repute and the crudest exponent of this group's views, not only were the Sanusis a band of fanatics given to murdering innocent missionaries and explorers, but they were also in the vanguard of the turuq inspired by the Pan-Islamic rhetoric of the Ottoman sultan and aligned against French colonialism in Muslim North Africa. Only this combination of factors could account for the pervasive and determined resistance to French policies in the region. Along with the Sanusiyya, Duveyrier singled out for attack a North African sheikh and confidant of the Ottoman sultan, Muhammad Zafir al-Madani. Charmes, Rinn, Le Chatelier, and Depont and Coppolani, while less vitriolic in their tone, certainly had the same general approach. The analysis of this “Algerian school” was dismissed at the turn of the century by two eminent Orientalists, Christiaan Snouck Hugronje and Carl Heinrich Becker.3A generation later, European fears of the turuq diminished in the wake of World War I, as new ideologies and forces came to dominate a transformed Pan-Islamism. This notwithstanding, some of the suppositions of the early French authors were adopted by later scholars and have since been quoted and requoted.

In all of the Middle East and North Africa, Algeria was the first country to be infected by the wind of democratization that swept the developing world in the 1980s and 1990s. The country became a political laboratory for the rest of the Arab world, as liberalization opened spaces for moderate and radical Islamic groups to contest elections. Unfortunately, these elections quickly descended into a long drawn-out and brutal war with the secularist rulers. This bitter battle, fought most fiercely between 1992-99, turned Algeria into a hot spot, thereby raising the question of whether democracy is feasible in the Muslim world. Frederic Volpi's new book seeks to answer this question by analyzing the process of political liber­alization and the severe problems it generated in Algeria. Volpi presents early and mid-twentieth-century North African schol­ars' reinterpretations of the Islamic creed that activated the emergence of anti-secularist movements in the Maghreb as a point of departure for his historical narrative of the Algerian conflict. Although Algeria's militant movement was coopted by the state party (the National Liberation Front [FLN]) and lost its dynamism during the post-independence years, it still sought to change the political system by operating from the community level, where it had built a network of associations. The author shows how this network's provision of services designed to meet the people's welfare needs helped thrust Islamic leaders into the political limelight as they uti­lized their organizational capacities and authority to transform the 1988 October food riots into a political protest ...

Abstract The devastating civil war that began in Syria in March 2011 is the result of complex interrelated factors. The focus of the conflict is regime change, but the triggers include a broad set of religious and sociopolitical factors, the erosion of the economic health of the country, a wave of political reform sweeping over the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) and Levant region, and challenges associated with climate variability and change and the availability and use of freshwater. As described here, water and climatic conditions have played a direct role in the deterioration of Syria’s economic conditions. There is a long history of conflicts over water in these regions because of the natural water scarcity, the early development of irrigated agriculture, and complex religious and ethnic diversity. In recent years, there has been an increase in incidences of water-related violence around the world at the subnational level attributable to the role that water plays in development disputes and economic activities. Because conflicts are rarely, if ever, attributable to single causes, conflict analysis and concomitant efforts at reducing the risks of conflict must consider a multitude of complex relationships and contributing factors. This paper assesses the complicated connections between water and conflict in Syria, looks more broadly at future climate-related risks for water systems, and offers some water management strategies for reducing those risks.

The immense structural inequalities of the global social /political economy can no longer be contained through consensual mechanisms of state control. The ruling classes have lost legitimacy; we are witnessing a breakdown of ruling-class hegemony on a world scale. There is good and evil among mankind; thus it necessitates the conflict between the good and evil on Earth. We are in for a period of major conflicts and great upheavals. It's generally regarded that Mencius (c.371- c.289 B.C) a student of Confucianism developed his entire philosophy from two basic propositions: the first, that Man's original nature is good; and the second, that Man's original nature becomes evil when his wishes are not fulfilled. What is good and what is evil? Philosophers of all ages have thought over this question. Each reckoned that he had solved the question once and for all, yet within a few years the problem would re-emerge with new dimensions. Repeated acts of corruption and evil action makes a man corrupt and takes away a man from his original nature. Still now majority of the people of the world give compliance to corruption because of social pressures, economic pressures, cultural pressures and political pressures. The conflict between good and evil is ancient on earth and is prevalent to this day. May be the final confrontation between the descendants of Cain and Abel is at our doorsteps. During the 2nd World War America with its European allies went into world wide military campaign to defeat Germany, Italy and Japan. When the Second World War ended in 1945 the United States of America came out as victorious. America was the first country to detonate atomic bomb in another country. During that period Russia fell into competition with America in politically colonizing countries after countries. With the fall of Communism Russia terminated its desire wanting to be the champion of the oppressed of the world. The situation in Russia continues to deteriorate, a country which until only a few years ago was a superpower. Russians are deeply disillusioned today with the new politicians in Russia, who they says "promise everything and give nothing." The Russians still strongly oppose a world order dominated by the United States. If anyone looks at or investigates the situations in other countries it can be seen that at present almost all countries of the world are similar or same in the forms of structures of corruption and evil. The Worldwide control of humanity‘s economic, social and political activities is under the helm of US corporate and military power. The US has established its control over 191 governments which are members of the United Nations. The last head of state of the former Soviet Union, Mikhail Gorbachev on December 2012, at a conference on the future of the Middle East and the Black Sea region in the Turkish city of Istanbul, has warned the US of an imminent Soviet-like collapse if Washington persists with its hegemonic policies. Mass public protest occurred against US hegemony are mainly from Muslim countries of South East Asia, South Asia, Central Asia, West Asia, North Africa and Africa. The latest mass protests erupted in September 2012 when the divine Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) was insulted by America and Israel. There were strong mass protests by people from Indonesia to Morocco and in the European countries by mostly immigrants and Australia were there are Muslim populations. This worldwide protest had occurred while the rise of the masses is ongoing against corrupt rulers in West Asia and North Africa. The masses of the people are thirsty and desperate for justice, dignity, economic welfare and human rights. Most major religions have their own sources of information on the Last Age of Mankind or the End of Times, which often include fateful battles between the forces of good and evil and cataclysmic natural disasters. Humans are evolving to a final stage of their evolution towards a 'New Age‘ that is to come which the corrupt does not understand. At present times a final battle of good versus evil on Earth will ensue. The World powers (leaders) and their entourages who are really detached from the masses have organized to keep aloft the present world order that degenerates the masses in corruption, keeps the people in unhappiness, and deprives the masses from economic well being, education and keeps promoting wars and conflicts to support corruption and evil. We are at the ?End of Times?. The Promised Messiah will come to set right what is wrong, no doubt. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.3329/bioethics.v4i1.14264 Bangladesh Journal of Bioethics 2013; 4(1):9-19

The immense structural inequalities of the global social /political economy can no longer be contained through consensual mechanisms of state control. The ruling classes have lost legitimacy; we are witnessing a breakdown of ruling-class hegemony on a world scale. There is good and evil among mankind; thus it necessitates the conflict between the good and evil on Earth. We are in for a period of major conflicts and great upheavals. It's generally regarded that Mencius (c.371-c.289 B.C) a student of Confucianism developed his entire philosophy from two basic propositions: the first, that Man's original nature is good; and the second, that Man's original nature becomes evil when his wishes are not fulfilled. What is good and what is evil? Philosophers of all ages have thought over this question. Each reckoned that he had solved the question once and for all, yet within a few years the problem would re-emerge with new dimensions. Repeated acts of corruption and evil action makes a man corrupt and takes away a man from his original nature. Still now majority of the people of the world give compliance to corruption because of social pressures, economic pressures, cultural pressures and political pressures. The conflict between good and evil is ancient on earth and is prevalent to this day. May be the final confrontation between the descendants of Cain and Abel is at our doorsteps. During the 2nd World War America with its European allies went into world wide military campaign to defeat Germany, Italy and Japan. When the Second World War ended in 1945 the United States of America came out as victorious. America was the first country to detonate atomic bomb in another country. During that period Russia fell into competition with America in politically colonizing countries after countries. With the fall of Communism Russia terminated its desire wanting to be the champion of the oppressed of the world. The situation in Russia continues to deteriorate, a country which until only a few years ago was a superpower. Russians are deeply disillusioned today with the new politicians in Russia, who they says "promise everything and give nothing." The Russians still strongly oppose a world order dominated by the United States. If anyone looks at or investigates the situations in other countries it can be seen that at present almost all countries of the world are similar or same in the forms of structures of corruption and evil. The Worldwide control of humanity‘s economic, social and political activities is under the helm of US corporate and military power. The US has established its control over 191 governments which are members of the United Nations. The last head of state of the former Soviet Union, Mikhail Gorbachev on December 2012, at a conference on the future of the Middle East and the Black Sea region in the Turkish city of Istanbul, has warned the US of an imminent Soviet-like collapse if Washington persists with its hegemonic policies. Mass public protest occurred against US hegemony are mainly from Muslim countries of South East Asia, South Asia, Central Asia, West Asia, North Africa and Africa. The latest mass protests erupted in September 2012 when the divine Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) was insulted by America and Israel. There were strong mass protests by people from Indonesia to Morocco and in the European countries by mostly immigrants and Australia were there are Muslim populations. This worldwide protest had occurred while the rise of the masses is ongoing against corrupt rulers in West Asia and North Africa. The masses of the people are thirsty and desperate for justice, dignity, economic welfare and human rights. Most major religions have their own sources of information on the Last Age of Mankind or the End of Times, which often include fateful battles between the forces of good and evil and cataclysmic natural disasters. Humans are evolving to a final stage of their evolution towards a ?New Age‘ that is to come which the corrupt does not understand. At present times a final battle of good versus evil on Earth will ensue. The World powers (leaders) and their entourages who are really detached from the masses have organized to keep aloft the present world order that degenerates the masses in corruption, keeps the people in unhappiness, and deprives the masses from economic well being, education and keeps promoting wars and conflicts to support corruption and evil. We are at the ?End of Times?. The Promised Messiah will come to set right what is wrong, no doubt. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.3329/bioethics.v4i2.16372 Bangladesh Journal of Bioethics 2013; 4(2) 9-21

Is it possible or plausible to represent horror and evil persuasively or authentically in these internet-multi-distributed times? And how can we account for a vast, belligerent reaction of public opinion when the representation of horror or evil is watched by an unprecedented, massive amount of people in North America and elsewhere in the YouTube realm? The unparalleled audience success of an unusually lengthy audiovisual narrative uploaded on YouTube whose subject matter is the quest for justice in East Africa was as remarkable as the diverse audience response of dismay, hope, joy and anger it elicited. The reaction was expressed in traditional print media (e.g. a special issue of The New York Times), in countless blogs and in YouTube – through assorted video-responses and written remarks, many of which were so disparaging that this function was disabled for the Kony 2012 video on YouTube. To try to account for the outpour of supportive viewers and of an increasingly negative response, I analyse its visual rhetoric and also some the critical remarks it triggered. The main strategy of the video consists in what I have described elsewhere as the “index appeal” of popular factuality programming (reality shows, docudramas, talk shows and documentaries), namely, the prevalence of allegedly involuntary signs aimed at producing intense emotions in viewers. Peirce’s semiotic theory of indexicality – as well as of iconic and of symbolic signs – is central to my analytical approach, as well as his critique of dualism. I also revisit a 1948 paper of two seminal figures in the pantheon of communication theory, P. Lazarsfeld and R. Merton. Their functionalist analysis of media effects posits a peculiar “narcotizing dysfunction” to account for the apathy produced in the audience despite the increasing intake of media information by the population. This paradoxical media effect posited by early functionalism, I think, is akin to what is harshly criticized over sixty years later about the significant impact produced by the Kony 2012 video on its vast public. Through the case study of a visual media narrative that gathered an audience as large as a populous nation in less than a week, and an equally impressive array of biting critical views in both traditional and new media, the article aims to account for its remarkable success and its ulterior proclaimed failure as a humanitarian campaign in the streets. I will do so by revisiting the early functionalist critique of mass media effects within the analytical framework of the action of indexical-iconic signs in the age of YouTube.

Is it possible or plausible to represent horror and evil persuasively or authentically in these internet-multi-distributed times? And how can we account for a vast, belligerent reaction of public opinion when the representation of horror or evil is watched by an unprecedented, massive amount of people in North America and elsewhere in the YouTube realm? The unparalleled audience success of an unusually lengthy audiovisual narrative uploaded on YouTube whose subject matter is the quest for justice in East Africa was as remarkable as the diverse audience response of dismay, hope, joy and anger it elicited. The reaction was expressed in traditional print media (e.g. a special issue of The New York Times), in countless blogs and in YouTube – through assorted video-responses and written remarks, many of which were so disparaging that this function was disabled for the Kony 2012 video on YouTube. To try to account for the outpour of supportive viewers and of an increasingly negative response, I analyse its visual rhetoric and also some the critical remarks it triggered. The main strategy of the video consists in what I have described elsewhere as the “index appeal” of popular factuality programming (reality shows, docudramas, talk shows and documentaries), namely, the prevalence of allegedly involuntary signs aimed at producing intense emotions in viewers. Peirce’s semiotic theory of indexicality – as well as of iconic and of symbolic signs – is central to my analytical approach, as well as his critique of dualism. I also revisit a 1948 paper of two seminal figures in the pantheon of communication theory, P. Lazarsfeld and R. Merton. Their functionalist analysis of media effects posits a peculiar “narcotizing dysfunction” to account for the apathy produced in the audience despite the increasing intake of media information by the population. This paradoxical media effect posited by early functionalism, I think, is akin to what is harshly criticized over sixty years later about the significant impact produced by the Kony 2012 video on its vast public. Through the case study of a visual media narrative that gathered an audience as large as a populous nation in less than a week, and an equally impressive array of biting critical views in both traditional and new media, the article aims to account for its remarkable success and its ulterior proclaimed failure as a humanitarian campaign in the streets. I will do so by revisiting the early functionalist critique of mass media effects within the analytical framework of the action of indexical-iconic signs in the age of YouTube.

This article looks at the structure and the dynamics of the Middle Eastern crisis set in motion by the events of the Arab Spring. At the heart of the crisis was Syria, where antigovernment protests broke out in early 2011, almost in parallel with other countries also affected by the Arab Spring. Starting from late March 2011, the unrest morphed into a civil war, leading to a large-scale crisis engulfing the country by the end of the year. At first, the opposition to the Syrian regime consisted of numerous groups with varying political affiliations – from liberals to Islamists – however, by early 2012, radical Islamism came to dominate the opposition forces. And by the end of the same year, the opposition was spearheaded by an openly terrorist organization – the al-Nusra Front, an outgrowth of the Syrian branch of Al-Qaeda. Over the same period, regional and international forces were becoming more and more involved in the Syrian crisis. Since 2012, in parallel with the Syrian crisis, there has been another internal conflict raging in the Middle East, namely in Iraq, with the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL) taking the foreground and combining groups of Iraqi al-Qaeda militants with Baathist underground forces. In 2014–2015, ISIL took hold of large swaths of territory in Syria and Iraq, effectively turning the Syrian civil war into a regional conflict. In addition to Syria and Iraq, the ongoing crisis has involved – either directly or indirectly – such actors as Turkey, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and a number of other regional powers. Turkey has been indirectly involved in the Syrian crisis since its very beginning, but starting from 2016 its engagement in the conflict has become much more active – not only in Syria, but also in Iraq. In 2013, Iran started to interfere in the Syrian crisis directly, using its Shia allies, and expanded its presence onto Iraq in 2014. Saudi Arabia and Qatar’s participation in the Syrian conflict has been indirect, mainly through military and financial assistance provided to their clients inside the country. However, Saudi Arabia’s activities in Syria have started to decline in 2015, due to its military involvement in Yemen, which – in a broader context – can be perceived as a peripheral component of the large regional conflict. In addition to the above mentioned components, one could also name a number of other equally important factors to the crisis. One of them is that the ranks of al- Nusra and ISIL militants have been reinforced not only by people coming from the Arab countries, but also from the citizens of Western Europe, North America and the former USSR. Another factor has been the growing role of Kurdish groups in the confrontation with the terrorists, especially with ISIL. This has led to the creation of a Kurdish autonomy in northern Syria. At the same time, an armed confrontation began in Turkish Kurdistan, which Turkey views as a threat to its territorial integrity. The Syrian crisis has also been marked by involvement of global powers, such as the US and Russia. The US-led international coalition has not succeeded in changing the course of the conflict – on the other hand, Russia’s involvement since the second half of 2015 has made a significant difference. With the end of the campaign against ISIL already in view, and with the prospects for a successful intra- Syrian settlement, it would seem reasonable to raise the question of the post-conflict configuration of the region, which is discussed at the end of the article.

AbstractThe Holy See became aware of the potential evangelising role of the Maltese in Ottoman lands at least from the mid-sixteenth century. This had much to do with Malta's geographical proximity to North Africa, coupled with the ability of the Maltese to speak a native Semitic language, believed to be close to Arabic, while at the same time being fervently Catholic Christians. Malta was singled out for this role mainly because the majority of Levantine Christian communities, then largely under Ottoman rule, were known to speak some form of Arabic. The combination of these factors appeared to be an excellent combination of circumstances to the Catholic Church authorities in Rome who believed that Malta was ideally suited for the teaching of Arabic. In Rome there was a general belief that the establishment of a school of Arabic in Malta, would help make the Catholic Church more accessible to the Christians of the Levant. However, despite continuous efforts, throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, by the Holy Congregation of Propaganda Fide, the teaching of Arabic never really took off in Malta. Under British colonial administration, in the early nineteenth century, Arabic remained on the list of subjects taught at the University of Malta and was later introduced at the Lyceum and the Valletta Government School. The British colonial authorities may even have encouraged its teaching and for a brief time, in the mid-nineteenth century, the well known Lebanese scholar Ahmad Faris al-Shidyaq, was lecturer of Arabic at Valletta. The end of Arabic teaching during World War One coincided with the emergence of the belief, pushed by Lord Gerald Strickland, that the Maltese descended from the Phoenicians. It was believed that the Maltese had preserved ancient Phoenician, rather than Arabic, over the millennia. By associating the Maltese with the ancient Phoenicians Strickland was simply saying that the Maltese might have had Semitic origins but that did not mean they were Arabs.

The NATO area covers more water than land. The Atlantic ocean, the Mediterranean, the Baltic and the Black Sea geographically and strategically unite the allies. NATO is a maritime alliance because almost all Member States have a maritime orientation and are highly dependent on maritime trade. To protect its interests on the seas and oceans NATO countries built up and maintained strong naval forces. Twenty of the 28 Member States of the Alliance has its own Navy - naval forces. Also, the Alliance has developed a highly-trained naval capacity for immediate response - Standing NATO naval forces consisting of naval ships of Member States. The use of naval power is more frequent, while more than 80 percent of local interventions and wars were conducted from the sea and over the sea. After the Cold War, NATO has dominated in the global maritime domain with robust naval forces and conducted several key naval operations to project the power and influence events on the ground. NATO naval operations have been conducted from the Balkans to the South Asia and North Africa. In the post-Cold War security environment, the Mediterranean is an area of central geopolitical and geostrategic interest to NATO. Also, NATO has a strong economic and energy interests in the Mediterranean. In that region, the naval component of the Alliance is extremely active. NATO maritime activities began during the early 1990's. NATO conducted out of area operation - Operation Sharp Guard, a naval blockade of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Significant naval forces, including attacks from the distance from the sea, participated in Operation Allied Force in Yugoslavia. After the terrorist attacks on the United States, NATO has increased the capacity of naval forces in the Mediterranean and established Operation Active Endeavour. This naval operation today transformed in Operation Sea Guardian and NATO with naval forces exercised full control and supervision of all maritime activities around the Mediterranean. Today, NATO has the Standing NATO Maritime Groups 1 (SNMG 1) and Standing NATO Maritime Groups 2 (SNMG 2), Standing NATO Mine Countermeasures Group (SNMCG 1) and Standing NATO Mine Countermeasures Group (SNMCG 2). NATO's Standing Naval Forces are no longer associated with a single area, but they must be ready for use anywhere. At present, NATO naval forces in the Mediterranean conduct maritime security operations and provides assistance in dealing with refugees and the migration crisis in the Aegean Sea. Today, NATO is a maritime alliance in action, actively preparing for the maritime century.

The article covers the resumption of the active work of the Intergovernmental Committee on Refugees through the prism of US activity within this structure. Created on the initiative of American leader F. Roosevelt in 1938 to help refugees from Austria and Germany, IGCR in reality appeared dysfunctional with the outburst of the Second World War. The article examines factors that revitalized activities of the defined structure. It was emphasized that the organization’s revival was made possible by appropriate initiatives originating from the British and American parties in early 1943. It was determined that strategic and tactical tasks were discussed and adopted on the basis of the results of an Inter-allied Bermuda Refugee Conference. Special mention was made to the work of American representatives of the American delegation headed by the Rector of Princeton University - Harold Dodds.The article reveals agenda of the resumed meetings of the Executive Committee of the Intergovernmental Committee on Refugees, analysis its results. The main range of issues that the Directorate of the IGCR had to deal with: the renewal of the membership of twenty-nine countries and the further expansion of the organization through the invitation and involvement of twenty new member states, the co-optation of new representatives of the new member states into the governing and executive body of the organization, changing approaches to funding, and introduction of the principle of “binding decisions”, preparation for the convening of a General congress.The questions, which were separately considered at the meetings of the Executive Committee - expansion of the territorial mandate of the IGCR, Soviet-Polish contradictions, the definition of the representative of the French delegation in connection with the struggle for leadership in the resistance of Russia, the creation of refugee camps in North Africa. It has been evaluated the influence on decision-making process of American representatives in the Executive Committee of the IGCR - Patrick Malin and John Winant.During the preparation of the article a potential source as the diplomatic correspondence of documents of the American foreign policy department are researched. Attention is drawn to the analysis of this matter in the investigations and research work of foreign historians. The article clarifies that the formation of a new system of international protection of refugees proclaimed F. Roosevelt in 1938 took place in complicated foreign policy circumstances. The change of the situation on the fronts, the emergence of public opinion and the new approaches of the British government allowed in the first half of 1943 to return to the development of instruments and mechanisms to conduct relief work and assistance to war refugees through the implementation of IGCR’s projects.

Libya is by most definitions an oil-based economy. Yet academic study of the national oil industry is at best fragmentary. The reasons for the poor showing of the Libyan oil industry in the literature stem partly from the relative decline in its international importance since the mid-1970s and partly from the ambiguity over acknowledgement of the role of the oil industry within Libya.The growth of the Libyan oil industry dates from 1951 and the coming of national independence. There had been surveys of a small scale and technologically limited kind in Libya in the Italian period. Some shows of oil had been discovered in Tripolitania as early as 1914 when water wells were drilled to supply Tripoli city (Waddams 1980, 27). Other oil was discovered in Tripolitania in the 1930s and a full scale exploration programme was prepared in the years 1937–1940 by the Italian national oil corporation under the geological guidance of Professor Ardito Desio, but never fully implemented due to the onset of war. Indeed, Desio was to return as a consultant to the oil companies working in Libya in the 1950s.In 1953 a mineral law was issued which paved the way for the grant of concessions to foreign oil companies to explore and develop oil resources. A petroleum law was promulgated in 1955 which offered rather more favourable terms on fees, rents, royalties and expensing to the oil companies than were available in other longer established oil producing states of North Africa and the Middle East (cf. Waddams, 1980, 57–70). At the same time, the assets of the oil companies in Libya were given far reaching protection under amendments of the petroleum law. The consequence of the generous operating terms of this and subsequent revisions of the law (1961 and 1965) was a rapid growth in the number of concessionaries exploring for oil within the country. The open-door policy pursued by the government was much criticised at a later period. Undoubtedly, however, it did succeed in attracting a wide spectrum of oil companies into Libya, including the major ones, such as Esso, Royal Dutch/Shell, Texaco, Gulf, BP and Mobil, together with many small independent interests. The best international techniques for exploration and development were put to work in Libya within a very short space of time, bringing the country rapidly into the ranks of the main oil-exporting states. Oil exports began on a commercial scale in September 1961 from Esso's Zelten fields in the Sirtican area, concession No. 6.

-Peter Hulme, Polly Pattullo, Last resorts: The cost of tourism in the Caribbean. London: Cassell/Latin America Bureau and Kingston: Ian Randle, 1996. xiii + 220 pp.-Michel-Rolph Trouillot, Édouard Glissant, Introduction à une poétique du Divers. Montréal: Presses de l'Université de Montréal, 1995. 106 pp.-Bruce King, Tejumola Olaniyan, Scars of conquest / Masks of resistance: The invention of cultural identities in African, African-American, and Caribbean drama. New York: Oxford University Press, 1995. xii + 196 pp.-Sidney W. Mintz, Raymond T. Smith, The Matrifocal family: Power, pluralism and politics. New York: Routledge, 1996. x + 236 pp.-Raymond T. Smith, Michel-Rolph Trouillot, Silencing the past: Power and the production of history. Boston: Beacon, 1995. xix + 191 pp.-Michiel Baud, Samuel Martínez, Peripheral migrants: Haitians and Dominican Republic sugar plantations. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1995. xxi + 228 pp.-Samuel Martínez, Michiel Baud, Peasants and Tobacco in the Dominican Republic, 1870-1930. Knoxville; University of Tennessee Press, 1995. x + 326 pp.-Robert C. Paquette, Aline Helg, Our rightful share: The Afro-Cuban struggle for equality, 1886-1912. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1995. xii + 361 pp.-Daniel C. Littlefield, Roderick A. McDonald, The economy and material culture of slaves: Goods and Chattels on the sugar plantations of Jamaica and Louisiana. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1993. xiv + 339 pp.-Jorge L. Chinea, Luis M. Díaz Soler, Puerto Rico: desde sus orígenes hasta el cese de la dominación española. Río Piedras: Editorial de la Universidad de Puerto Rico, 1994. xix + 758 pp.-David Buisseret, Edward E. Crain, Historic architecture in the Caribbean Islands. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1994. ix + 256 pp.-Hilary McD. Beckles, Mavis C. Campbell, Back to Africa. George Ross and the Maroons: From Nova Scotia to Sierra Leone. Trenton NJ: Africa World Press, 1993. xxv + 115 pp.-Sandra Burr, Gretchen Gerzina, Black London: Life before emancipation. New Brunswick NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1995. xii + 244 pp.-Carlene J. Edie, Trevor Munroe, The cold war and the Jamaican Left 1950-1955: Reopening the files. Kingston: Kingston Publishers, 1992. xii + 242 pp.-Carlene J. Edie, David Panton, Jamaica's Michael Manley: The great transformation (1972-92). Kingston: Kingston Publishers, 1993. xx + 225 pp.-Percy C. Hintzen, Cary Fraser, Ambivalent anti-colonialism: The United States and the genesis of West Indian independence, 1940-1964. Westport CT: Greenwood, 1994. vii + 233 pp.-Anthony J. Payne, Carlene J. Edie, Democracy in the Caribbean: Myths and realities. Westport CT: Praeger, 1994. xvi + 296 pp.-Alma H. Young, Jean Grugel, Politics and development in the Caribbean basin: Central America and the Caribbean in the New World Order. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1995. xii + 270 pp.-Alma H. Young, Douglas G. Lockhart ,The development process in small island states. London: Routledge, 1993. xv + 275 pp., David Drakakis-Smith, John Schembri (eds)-Virginia Heyer Young, José Solis, Public school reform in Puerto Rico: Sustaining colonial models of development. Westport CT: Greenwood Press, 1994. x + 171 pp.-Carolyn Cooper, Christian Habekost, Verbal Riddim: The politics and aesthetics of African-Caribbean Dub poetry. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1993. vii + 262 pp.-Clarisse Zimra, Jaqueline Leiner, Aimé Césaire: Le terreau primordial. Tübingen: Gunter Narr Verlag, 1993. 175 pp.-Clarisse Zimra, Abiola Írélé, Aimé Césaire: Cahier d'un retour au pays natal. With introduction, commentary and notes. Abiola Írélé. Ibadan: New Horn Press, 1994. 158 pp.-Alvina Ruprecht, Stella Algoo-Baksh, Austin C. Clarke: A biography. Barbados: The Press - University of the West Indies; Toronto: ECW Press, 1994. 234 pp.-Sue N. Greene, Glyne A. Griffith, Deconstruction, imperialism and the West Indian novel. Kingston: The Press - University of the West Indies, 1996. xxiii + 147 pp.-Donald R. Hill, Peter Manuel ,Caribbean currents: Caribbean music from Rumba to Reggae. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1995. xi + 272 pp., Kenneth Bilby, Michael Largey (eds)-Daniel J. Crowley, Judith Bettelheim, Cuban festivals: An illustrated anthology. New York: Garland Publishing, 1993. x + 261 pp.-Judith Bettelheim, Ramón Marín, Las fiestas populares de Ponce. San Juan: Editorial de la Universidad de Puerto Rico, 1994. 277 pp.-Marijke Koning, Eric O. Ayisi, St. Eustatius: The treasure island of the Caribbean. Trenton NJ: Africa World Press, 1992. xviii + 224 pp.-Peter L. Patrick, Marcyliena Morgan, Language & the social construction of identity in Creole situations. Los Angeles: Center for Afro-American studies, UCLA, 1994. vii + 158 pp.-John McWhorter, Tonjes Veenstra, Serial verbs in Saramaccan: Predication and Creole genesis. The Hague: Holland Academic Graphic, 1996. x + 217 pp.-John McWhorter, Jacques Arends, The early stages of creolization. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins, 1995. xv + 297 pp.

The global spread of Salafism, though it began in the 1960s and 1970s, only started to attract significant attention from scholars and analysts outside of Islamic studies as well as journalists, politicians, and the general public following the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks perpetrated by Al-Qaeda Central. After the attacks, Salafism—or, as it was pejoratively labeled by its critics inside and outside of the Islamic tradition, “Wahhabism”—was accused of being the ideological basis of all expressions of Sunni militancy from North America and Europe to West and East Africa, the Arab world, and into Asia. According to this narrative, Usama bin Laden, Ayman al-Za- wahiri, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, and other Sunni jihadis were merely putting into action the commands of medieval ‘ulama such as Ibn Taymiyya, the eighteenth century Najdi Hanbali Muhammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab, and modern revolutionary ideologues like Sayyid Qutb and ‘Abdullah ‘Azzam. To eradicate terrorism, you must eliminate or neuter Salafism, say its critics. The reality, of course, is far more complex than this simplistic nar- rative purports. Salafism, though its adherents share the same core set of creedal beliefs and methodological approaches toward the interpretation of the Qur’an and hadith and Sunni legal canon, comes in many forms, from the scholastic and hierarchical Salafism of the ‘ulama in Saudi Arabia and other Muslim majority countries to the decentralized, self-described Salafi groups in Europe and North America who cluster around a single char- ismatic preacher who often has limited formal religious education. What unifies these different expressions of Salafism is a core canon of religious and legal texts and set of scholars who are widely respected and referenced in Salafi circles. Thurston grounds his fieldwork and text-based analysis of Salafism in Nigeria, Africa’s most populous country and home to one of the world’s largest single Muslim national populations, through the lens of this canon, which he defines as a “communally negotiated set of texts that is governed by rules of interpretation and appropriation” (1). He argues fur- ther that in the history of Nigerian Salafism, one can trace the major stages that the global Salafi movement has navigated as it spread from the Arab Middle East to what are erroneously often seen as “peripheral” areas of the Islamic world, Africa and parts of Asia. The book is based on extensive fieldwork in Nigeria including interviews with key Nigerian Salafi scholars and other leading figures as well as a wide range of textual primary sourc- es including British and Nigerian archival documents, international and national news media reports, leaked US embassy cables, and a significant number of religious lectures and sermons and writings by Nigerian Salafis in Arabic and Hausa. In Chapter One, Thurston argues that the Salafi canon gives individ- ual and groups of Salafis a sense of identity and membership in a unique and, to them, superior religious community that is linked closely to their understanding and reading of sacred history and the revered figures of the Prophet Muhammad and the Ṣaḥāba. Salafism as an intellectual current, theology, and methodological approach is transmitted through this can- on which serves not only as a vehicle for proselytization but also a rule- book through which the boundaries of what is and is not “Salafism” are determined by its adherents and leading authorities. The book’s analytical framework and approach toward understanding Salafism, which rests on seeing it as a textual tradition, runs counter to the popular but problematic tendency in much of the existing discussion and even scholarly literature on Salafism that defines it as a literalist, one-dimensional, and puritani- cal creed with a singular focus on the Qur’an and hadith canon. Salafis, Thurston argues, do not simply derive religious and legal rulings in linear fashion from the Qur’an and Prophetic Sunna but rather engage in a co- herent and uniform process of aligning today’s Salafi community with a set of normative practices and beliefs laid out by key Salafi scholars from the recent past. Thurston divides the emergence of a distinct “Salafi” current within Sunnis into two phases. The first stretches from 1880 to 1950, as Sun- ni scholars from around the Muslim-majority world whose approaches shared a common hadith-centered methodology came into closer contact. The second is from the 1960s through the present, as key Salafi institutions (such as the Islamic University of Medina and other Saudi Salafi bodies) were founded and began attracting and (perhaps most importantly) fund- ing and sponsoring Sunni students from countries such as Nigeria to come study in Saudi Arabia, where they were deeply embedded in the Salafi tra- dition before returning to their home countries where, in turn, they spread Salafism among local Muslims. Nigeria’s Muslim-majority north, as with other regions such as Yemen’s northern Sa‘ada governorate, proved to be a fertile ground for Salafism in large part because it enabled local Muslims from more humble social backgrounds to challenge the longtime domi- nance of hereditary ruling families and the established religious class. In northern Nigeria the latter was and continues to be dominated by Sufi or- ders and their shaykhs whose long-running claim to communal leadership faced new and substantive theological and resource challenges following the return of Nigerian seminary students from Saudi Arabia’s Salafi scho- lastic institutions in the 1990s and early 2000s. In Chapters Two and Three, Thurston traces the history of Nigerian and other African students in Saudi Arabia, which significantly expanded following the 1961 founding of the Islamic University of Medina (which remains the preeminent Salafi seminary and university in the world) and after active outreach across the Sunni Muslim world by the Saudi govern- ment and Salafi religious elite to attract students through lucrative funding and scholarship packages. The process of developing an African Salafism was not one-dimensional or imposed from the top-down by Saudi Salafi elites, but instead saw Nigerian and other African Salafi students partici- pate actively in shaping and theorizing Salafi da‘wa that took into account the specifics of each African country and Islamic religious and social envi- ronment. In Nigeria and other parts of West and East Africa, this included considering the historically dominant position of Sufi orders and popular practices such as devotion to saints and grave and shrine visitation. African and Saudi Salafis also forged relationships with local African partners, in- cluding powerful political figures such as Ahmadu Bello and his religious adviser Abubakar Gumi, by attracting them with the benefits of establishing ties with wealthy international Islamic organizations founded and backed by the Saudi state, including the Muslim World League. Nigerian Salafis returning from their studies in Saudi Arabia actively promoted their Salafi canon among local Muslims, waging an aggressive proselytization campaign that sought to chip away at the dominance of traditional political and religious elites, the Sufi shaykhs. This process is covered in Chapter Four. Drawing on key sets of legal and exegetical writ- ings by Ibn Taymiyya, Muhammad ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab, and other Salafi scholars, Nigerian Salafis sought to introduce a framework—represented by the canon—through which their students and adherents approach re- ligious interpretation and practice. By mastering one’s understanding and ability to correctly interpret scripture and the hadith, Salafis believe, one will also live a more ethical life based on a core set of “Salafi” principles that govern not only religious but also political, social, and economic life. Salaf- ism, Thurston argues, drawing on the work of Terje Østebø on Ethiopian Salafism, becomes localized within a specific environment.As part of their da‘wa campaigns, Nigerian Salafis have utilized media and new technology to debate their rivals and critics as well as to broad- en their own influence over Nigerian Muslims and national society more broadly, actions analyzed in Chapter Five. Using the Internet, video and audio recorded sermons and religious lectures, books and pamphlets, and oral proselytization and preaching, Nigerian Salafis, like other Muslim ac- tivists and groups, see in media and technology an extension of the phys- ical infrastructure provided by institutions such as mosques and religious schools. This media/cyber infrastructure is as, if not increasingly more, valuable as the control of physical space because it allows for the rapid spread of ideas beyond what would have historically been possible for local religious preachers and missionaries. Instead of preaching political revo- lution, Nigerian Salafi activists sought to win greater access to the media including radio airtime because they believed this would ultimately lead to the triumph of their religious message despite the power of skeptical to downright hostile local audiences among the Sufi orders and non-Salafis dedicated to the Maliki juridical canon.In the realm of politics, the subject of Chapter Six, Nigeria’s Salafis base their political ideology on the core tenets of the Salafi creed and canon, tenets which cast Salafism as being not only the purest but the only true version of Islam, and require of Salafis to establish moral reform of a way- ward Muslim society. Salafi scholars seek to bring about social, political, and religious reform, which collectively represent a “return” to the Prophet Muhammad’s Islam, by speaking truth to power and advising and repri- manding, as necessary, Muslim political rulers. In navigating the multi-po- lar and complex realm of national and regional politics, Thurston argues, Nigerian Salafi scholars educated in Saudi Arabia unwittingly opened the door to cruder and more extreme, militant voices of figures lacking the same level of study of the Salafi canon or Sunni Islam generally. The most infamous of the latter is “Boko Haram,” the jihadi-insurgent group today based around Lake Chad in Nigeria, Chad, and Niger, which calls itself Jama‘at Ahl al-Sunna li-l-Da‘wa wa-l-Jihad and is led by the bombastic Abubakar Shekau. Boko Haram, under the leadership first of the revivalist preacher Mu- hammad Yusuf and then Shekau, is covered at length in the book’s third and final part, which is composed of two chapters. Yusuf, unlike mainstream Nigerian Salafis, sought to weaponize the Salafi canon against the state in- stead of using it as a tool to bring about desired reforms. Drawing on the writings of influential Arab jihadi ideologues including Abu Muhammad al-Maqdisi and the apocalyptic revolutionary Juhayman al-‘Utaybi, the lat- ter of whom participated in the 1979 seizure of the Grand Mosque in Mecca, Yusuf cited key Salafi concepts such as al-walā’ min al-mu’minīn wa-l-bara’ ‘an al-kāfirīn (loyalty to the Believers and disavowal of the Disbelievers) and beliefs about absolute monotheism (tawḥīd) as the basis of his revival- ist preaching. Based on these principle, he claimed, Muslims must not only fulfill their ritual duties such as prayer and fasting during Ramadan but also actively fight “unbelief” (kufr) and “apostasy” (ridda) and bring about God’s rule on earth, following the correct path of the community of the Prophet Abraham (Millat Ibrāhīm) referenced in multiple Qur’anic verses and outlined as a theological project for action by al-Maqdisi in a lengthy book of that name that has had a profound influence on the formation of modern Sunni jihadism. Instead of seeing Boko Haram, particularly under Shekau’s leadership, as a “Salafi” or “jihadi-Salafi” group, Thurston argues it is a case study of how a group that at one point in its history adhered to Salafism can move away from and beyond it. In the case of Shekau and his “post-Salafism,” he writes, the group, like Islamic State, has shifted away from the Salafi canon and toward a jihadism that uses only stripped-down elements from the canon and does so solely to propagate a militaristic form of jihad. Even when referencing historical religious authorities such as Ibn Taymiyya, Thurston points out, Boko Haram and Islamic State leaders and members often do so through the lens of modern Sunni jihadi ideologues like Juhay- man al-‘Utaybi, al-Maqdisi, and Abu Mus‘ab al-Zarqawi, figures who have come to form a Sunni jihadi canon of texts, intellectuals, and ideologues. Shekau, in short, has given up canonical Salafism and moved toward a more bombastic and scholastically more heterodox and less-Salafi-than- jihadi creed of political violence. Thurston also pushes back against the often crude stereotyping of Af- rican Islamic traditions and movements that sees African Muslims as being defined by their “syncretic” mix of traditional African religious traditions and “orthodox” Islam, the latter usually a stand-in for “Arab” and “Middle Eastern” Islam. Islam and Islamic movements in Africa have developed in social and political environments that are not mirrors to the dominant models of the Arab world (in particular, Egypt). He convincingly points out that analysis of all forms of African Islamic social and political mobi- lization through a Middle East and Egypt-heavy lens obscures much more than it elucidates. The book includes useful glossaries of key individuals and Arabic terms referenced in the text as well as a translation of a sermon by the late, revered Salafi scholar Muhammad Nasir al-Din al-Albani that is part of the mainstream Salafi canon. Extensive in its coverage of the his- tory, evolution, and sociopolitical and religious development of Salafism in Nigeria as well as the key role played by Saudi Salafi universities and religious institutions and quasi-state NGOs, the book expands the schol- arly literature on Salafism, Islam in Africa, and political Islam and Islamic social movements. It also contributing to ongoing debates and discussions on approaches to the study of the role of texts and textual traditions in the formation of individual and communal religious identity. Christopher AnzaloneResearch Fellow, International Security ProgramBelfer Center for Science and International Affairs, Harvard University& PhD candidate, Institute of Islamic Studies, McGill University

In this critically insightful and highly readable book of political ethnogra- phy, Aisha Ahmad, a political scientist at University of Toronto, seeks to explain how and why Islamist movements continue to militarily prevail and politically succeed in forming proto-states, over clan, ethnic, and/or tribal based competitions, amidst the chaos and disorder of civil wars across the contemporary Muslim world, from Mali to Mindanao. To this end, Ahmad seeks to go beyond the usual expositions that center the explanatory power of Islamist ideologies and identities, which dominate the scholarly fields of political science, international relations, security studies as well as the global public discourse shaped by journalists, politicians, and the punditry of shouting heads everywhere. Through a deep, immersive study of power in Afghanistan and Soma- lia, Ahmad demonstrates the profoundly symbiotic relationship between Islamists and the local business class. While recognizing the interconnec- tions between violent conflict and illicit trade is nothing new, Ahmad’s explication of the economic logics of Islamist proto-states furnishes a nov- el two-stage dynamic to explain the indispensability and ubiquity of this Islamist-business alliance in conflict zones. The first is the gradual social process of conversion of the business class’ worldview and practice to align them with Islamist identity formations, which is “aimed at mitigating un- certainty and improving access to markets” (xvii). Alongside this long-term socialization is a second, short-term political-economic dynamic of rapid shift in the business class’s collective patronage of a new Islamist faction, based on the assumption that it will lower the cost of business. The for- midable alliance between business class interests and Islamist institutions brings forth the new Islamist proto-state. Chapter one of the book adum- brates this two-stage argument and offers justifications for the two case studies, namely the Taliban in Afghanistan and the Islamic Courts Union in Somalia. The second chapter unpacks the two-stage dynamic in detail. We learn that in modern civil wars across the Muslim world, business communi- ties intentionally adopt ardent Islamist identities as a practical means to- ward building trust and lowering cost. Islamist factions, aspiring toward hegemony, offer the possibility of economic relationships that transcend the ethnic boundaries which limit rival factions rooted in clan, tribal, or ethno-linguistic social formations. This leads to the second, faster conver- gence of business-Islamist interests, wherein the Islamist groups leverage their broader social identity and economic market to offer stronger secu- rity at a lower cost. This development of an economy of scale leads the local business elites to throw their financial support behind the Islamists at a critical juncture of militant competition. Once this threshold is met, Islamist factions rapidly conquer and consolidate territories from their rel- atively socially constrained rivals to form a new proto-state, like the Taliban regime and the Islamic Courts Union (ICU). When we look at the timeline of their development (the Taliban in 1994 and the ICU in 2006), we notice a similar length of gestation, about 15 years of war. This similarity may be coincidental, but the political-military threshold is the same. Both societ- ies, ravaged by civil war, reached a stalemate. At this critical juncture the positional properties of Islamist formations in the field of civil war factions gives the Islamists a decided economic (cost analysis) and social (trust building across clan/tribal identities) advantage. Chapters three to six examine each of the two processes for the se- lected sites of inquiry. Thus chapters three and five, respectively, explore the long-term Islamist identity construction within the smuggling industry in the Afghanistan-Pakistan borderland, and the Somali business elites’ gradual convergence with Islamists. In chapter four, Ahmad explores the second dynamic in the context of rising security costs during the Afghan civil war. Mullah Omar’s Taliban provided the order and security across the borderland that had previously eluded the variety of industries. This allowed the Taliban to expand on the backs of voluntary donations, rather than extortions like their rival tribal warlords, which in turn allowed them to recruit and retain more disciplined fighters (81). The source of these donations was the business class, especially those involved in the highly lucrative transit trade, which, before the rise of Taliban, paid immense op- portunity cost at the hands of rapacious local and tribal warlord fiefdoms and bandits. Instead of the multitude of checkpoints crisscrossing south- ern Afghanistan and the borderlands, the Taliban presented a simplified administration. While the rest of the world took notice of their repressive measures against women’s mobility, education, and cultural expression, the men of the bazaar appreciated the newly acquired public safety to ply their trade and the lowered cost of doing business. Chapter six, “The Price of Protection: The Rise of the Islamic Courts Union,” demonstrates a similar mutually beneficial Islamist-business relationship emerging out of the incessant clan-based militia conflicts that had especially plagued southern Somalia since the fall of the last national government in 1991. Businesspeople, whether they were tycoons or small business owners, had to pay two types of tax. First was what was owed to the local racket or warlord, and the second was to the ever-fragmenting sub-clan militias and their checkpoints on the intercity highways. Unlike their rival, the Transitional Federal Government (TGF), ICU forged their supra-clan institutional identity through a universalist legal discourse and practice rooted in Islamic law and ethics. They united the courts and their associated clan-based militias, including al-Shabaab. Ahmad demonstrates, through a synthesis of secondary literature and original political ethnogra- phy, the economic logics of ICU’s ability to overcome the threshold of ma- terial and social support needed to establish the rule of law and a far-reach- ing functioning government. If the Taliban and the ICU had solved the riddle of creating order and security to create hegemonic proto-states, then what was their downfall? Chapter seven gives us an account of the international interventions that caused the collapse of the two proto-states. In the aftermath of their de- struction, the internationally supported regimes that replaced them, de- spite immense monetary and military aid, have failed to gain the same level of legitimacy across Afghanistan and Somalia. In chapter eight, Ahmad expands the scope of analysis to North/Western Africa (Al-Qaeda in the Is- lamic Maghrib: AQIM), Middle East (Islamic State in Iraq and Syria: ISIS), and South Asia (Tahrik-i Taliban-i Pakistan: TTP). At the time of this book’s publication, these movements were not yet, as Ahmad posits, closed cases like the Taliban and the ICU. Thus, the data from this chapter’s comparative survey furnishes suggestive arguments for Ahmad’s larger thesis, namely that Islamist proto-states emerge out of a confluence of economic and security interests rather than mere ideological and identity politics. The epistemic humility of this chapter signals to this reader two lines of constructive criticism of some aspects of Ahmad’s sub- stantiation of this thesis. First, the juxtaposing of Islamist success against their clan-/tribal iden- tity-based rivals may be underestimating the element of ethnic solidarity in those very Islamists’ political success. The most glaring case is the Taliban, which in its original formation and in its post-American invasion frag- mentations, across the Durand Line, was more or less founded on a pan- or-tribal Pashtun social identity and economic compulsions relative to the other Afghan ethno-linguistic communities. How does one disaggregate the force of ethnic solidarity (even if it is only a necessary condition, rather than a cause) from economic calculus in explaining the rise of the Taliban proto-state? The second issue in this juxtaposition is that when we compare a suc- cessful Islamist movement against socially limited ethnocentric rivals, we discount the other Islamist movements that failed. Explanations for those Islamists that failed to create a proto-state along the lines of the ICU or the Taliban, such as al-Ittihad al-Islamiyya (Somalia) or Gulbuddin Hekmat- yar’s Hezb-e Islami (Afghanistan), needed to be more robustly taken into account and integrated into the substantiation of Ahmad’s thesis. Even in the section on ISIS, it would have been helpful to integrate the case of Jabhat al-Nusra’s (an al-Qaeda affiliate in Syria) inability to create a proto-state to rival ISIS. We must ask, why do some Jihadi Islamist movements prevail against each other and why do others fail? Perhaps some of these Islamist movements appear too early to scale up their operation (i.e., they precede Ahmad’s ‘critical juncture’), or they were too embroiled and too partisan in the illicit trade network to fully leverage their Islamist universalism to create the trust and bonds that are the first part of Ahmad’s two-stage dy- namic. Possible answers would need to complement Ahmad’s excellent po- litical ethnography with deeper quantitative dives to identify the statistical variations of these critical junctures: when does the cost of warlords and mafias’ domination outweigh the cost of Islamist-Jihadi movements’ social- ly repressive but economically liberating regimes? At which point in the social evolution of society during an unending civil war do identities forged by the bonds of blood give way to those imagined through bonds of faith? These two critical suggestions do not diminish Ahmad’s highly teach- able work. This book should be read by all concerned policy makers, schol- ars in the social sciences and humanities, and anyone who wants to go be- yond ‘culture talk’ historical causation by ideas and identity and uncover structuralist explanations for the rise of Jihadi Islamist success in civil wars across the Muslim world. It is especially recommended for adoption in cog- nate courses at the undergraduate level, for its combination of erudition and readability. Maheen ZamanAssistant ProfessorDepartment of HistoryAugsburg University

In this critically insightful and highly readable book of political ethnogra- phy, Aisha Ahmad, a political scientist at University of Toronto, seeks to explain how and why Islamist movements continue to militarily prevail and politically succeed in forming proto-states, over clan, ethnic, and/or tribal based competitions, amidst the chaos and disorder of civil wars across the contemporary Muslim world, from Mali to Mindanao. To this end, Ahmad seeks to go beyond the usual expositions that center the explanatory power of Islamist ideologies and identities, which dominate the scholarly fields of political science, international relations, security studies as well as the global public discourse shaped by journalists, politicians, and the punditry of shouting heads everywhere. Through a deep, immersive study of power in Afghanistan and Soma- lia, Ahmad demonstrates the profoundly symbiotic relationship between Islamists and the local business class. While recognizing the interconnec- tions between violent conflict and illicit trade is nothing new, Ahmad’s explication of the economic logics of Islamist proto-states furnishes a nov- el two-stage dynamic to explain the indispensability and ubiquity of this Islamist-business alliance in conflict zones. The first is the gradual social process of conversion of the business class’ worldview and practice to align them with Islamist identity formations, which is “aimed at mitigating un- certainty and improving access to markets” (xvii). Alongside this long-term socialization is a second, short-term political-economic dynamic of rapid shift in the business class’s collective patronage of a new Islamist faction, based on the assumption that it will lower the cost of business. The for- midable alliance between business class interests and Islamist institutions brings forth the new Islamist proto-state. Chapter one of the book adum- brates this two-stage argument and offers justifications for the two case studies, namely the Taliban in Afghanistan and the Islamic Courts Union in Somalia. The second chapter unpacks the two-stage dynamic in detail. We learn that in modern civil wars across the Muslim world, business communi- ties intentionally adopt ardent Islamist identities as a practical means to- ward building trust and lowering cost. Islamist factions, aspiring toward hegemony, offer the possibility of economic relationships that transcend the ethnic boundaries which limit rival factions rooted in clan, tribal, or ethno-linguistic social formations. This leads to the second, faster conver- gence of business-Islamist interests, wherein the Islamist groups leverage their broader social identity and economic market to offer stronger secu- rity at a lower cost. This development of an economy of scale leads the local business elites to throw their financial support behind the Islamists at a critical juncture of militant competition. Once this threshold is met, Islamist factions rapidly conquer and consolidate territories from their rel- atively socially constrained rivals to form a new proto-state, like the Taliban regime and the Islamic Courts Union (ICU). When we look at the timeline of their development (the Taliban in 1994 and the ICU in 2006), we notice a similar length of gestation, about 15 years of war. This similarity may be coincidental, but the political-military threshold is the same. Both societ- ies, ravaged by civil war, reached a stalemate. At this critical juncture the positional properties of Islamist formations in the field of civil war factions gives the Islamists a decided economic (cost analysis) and social (trust building across clan/tribal identities) advantage. Chapters three to six examine each of the two processes for the se- lected sites of inquiry. Thus chapters three and five, respectively, explore the long-term Islamist identity construction within the smuggling industry in the Afghanistan-Pakistan borderland, and the Somali business elites’ gradual convergence with Islamists. In chapter four, Ahmad explores the second dynamic in the context of rising security costs during the Afghan civil war. Mullah Omar’s Taliban provided the order and security across the borderland that had previously eluded the variety of industries. This allowed the Taliban to expand on the backs of voluntary donations, rather than extortions like their rival tribal warlords, which in turn allowed them to recruit and retain more disciplined fighters (81). The source of these donations was the business class, especially those involved in the highly lucrative transit trade, which, before the rise of Taliban, paid immense op- portunity cost at the hands of rapacious local and tribal warlord fiefdoms and bandits. Instead of the multitude of checkpoints crisscrossing south- ern Afghanistan and the borderlands, the Taliban presented a simplified administration. While the rest of the world took notice of their repressive measures against women’s mobility, education, and cultural expression, the men of the bazaar appreciated the newly acquired public safety to ply their trade and the lowered cost of doing business. Chapter six, “The Price of Protection: The Rise of the Islamic Courts Union,” demonstrates a similar mutually beneficial Islamist-business relationship emerging out of the incessant clan-based militia conflicts that had especially plagued southern Somalia since the fall of the last national government in 1991. Businesspeople, whether they were tycoons or small business owners, had to pay two types of tax. First was what was owed to the local racket or warlord, and the second was to the ever-fragmenting sub-clan militias and their checkpoints on the intercity highways. Unlike their rival, the Transitional Federal Government (TGF), ICU forged their supra-clan institutional identity through a universalist legal discourse and practice rooted in Islamic law and ethics. They united the courts and their associated clan-based militias, including al-Shabaab. Ahmad demonstrates, through a synthesis of secondary literature and original political ethnogra- phy, the economic logics of ICU’s ability to overcome the threshold of ma- terial and social support needed to establish the rule of law and a far-reach- ing functioning government. If the Taliban and the ICU had solved the riddle of creating order and security to create hegemonic proto-states, then what was their downfall? Chapter seven gives us an account of the international interventions that caused the collapse of the two proto-states. In the aftermath of their de- struction, the internationally supported regimes that replaced them, de- spite immense monetary and military aid, have failed to gain the same level of legitimacy across Afghanistan and Somalia. In chapter eight, Ahmad expands the scope of analysis to North/Western Africa (Al-Qaeda in the Is- lamic Maghrib: AQIM), Middle East (Islamic State in Iraq and Syria: ISIS), and South Asia (Tahrik-i Taliban-i Pakistan: TTP). At the time of this book’s publication, these movements were not yet, as Ahmad posits, closed cases like the Taliban and the ICU. Thus, the data from this chapter’s comparative survey furnishes suggestive arguments for Ahmad’s larger thesis, namely that Islamist proto-states emerge out of a confluence of economic and security interests rather than mere ideological and identity politics. The epistemic humility of this chapter signals to this reader two lines of constructive criticism of some aspects of Ahmad’s sub- stantiation of this thesis. First, the juxtaposing of Islamist success against their clan-/tribal iden- tity-based rivals may be underestimating the element of ethnic solidarity in those very Islamists’ political success. The most glaring case is the Taliban, which in its original formation and in its post-American invasion frag- mentations, across the Durand Line, was more or less founded on a pan- or-tribal Pashtun social identity and economic compulsions relative to the other Afghan ethno-linguistic communities. How does one disaggregate the force of ethnic solidarity (even if it is only a necessary condition, rather than a cause) from economic calculus in explaining the rise of the Taliban proto-state? The second issue in this juxtaposition is that when we compare a suc- cessful Islamist movement against socially limited ethnocentric rivals, we discount the other Islamist movements that failed. Explanations for those Islamists that failed to create a proto-state along the lines of the ICU or the Taliban, such as al-Ittihad al-Islamiyya (Somalia) or Gulbuddin Hekmat- yar’s Hezb-e Islami (Afghanistan), needed to be more robustly taken into account and integrated into the substantiation of Ahmad’s thesis. Even in the section on ISIS, it would have been helpful to integrate the case of Jabhat al-Nusra’s (an al-Qaeda affiliate in Syria) inability to create a proto-state to rival ISIS. We must ask, why do some Jihadi Islamist movements prevail against each other and why do others fail? Perhaps some of these Islamist movements appear too early to scale up their operation (i.e., they precede Ahmad’s ‘critical juncture’), or they were too embroiled and too partisan in the illicit trade network to fully leverage their Islamist universalism to create the trust and bonds that are the first part of Ahmad’s two-stage dy- namic. Possible answers would need to complement Ahmad’s excellent po- litical ethnography with deeper quantitative dives to identify the statistical variations of these critical junctures: when does the cost of warlords and mafias’ domination outweigh the cost of Islamist-Jihadi movements’ social- ly repressive but economically liberating regimes? At which point in the social evolution of society during an unending civil war do identities forged by the bonds of blood give way to those imagined through bonds of faith? These two critical suggestions do not diminish Ahmad’s highly teach- able work. This book should be read by all concerned policy makers, schol- ars in the social sciences and humanities, and anyone who wants to go be- yond ‘culture talk’ historical causation by ideas and identity and uncover structuralist explanations for the rise of Jihadi Islamist success in civil wars across the Muslim world. It is especially recommended for adoption in cog- nate courses at the undergraduate level, for its combination of erudition and readability. Maheen ZamanAssistant ProfessorDepartment of HistoryAugsburg University