Academic literature on the topic 'Uganda – History – Autonomy and independence'

AbstractThe Republic of Moldova has a long history of shifting borders, and a short history as an independent state. The real development of higher education started only after 1944, in the form of an integral part of the Soviet system of education and research. After independence, its development was shaped strongly by market forces, a demographic decline, alternative study options abroad and last but not least, the all-too-often contradictory policy preferences of changing governments and ministers for education. As a result, on the one hand, the country perpetuated many of the Soviet institutional arrangements in the higher education system, especially the centralised governance arrangements and the academy of science system. On the other hand, the political will to break with the Soviet past and to orientate the country towards Romania and the European Union has spawned a number of policy initiatives, including the ascension to the Bologna Process, greater institutional autonomy, governance democratisation and the implementation of a quality assurance framework along European models. Their implementation, however, has often been hampered by relatively weak institutions and political factionism. As a consequence, the differentiation of the HE system of the Republic of Moldova takes the shape of a dynamic, often contradictory process in which instable institutions are attempting to cope with growing pressures of global, European and local origins.

Seneca participates in and substantially adds to a Greco-Roman tradition of reflection on the social prerequisites of philosophy. This chapter shows how Seneca develops an account of philosophy’s history and the social conditions that give rise to it. Philosophy’s promise of autonomy is always realized against a social background. Seneca’s attention to this background offers a counterweight to his frequently expressed admiration for the Cynics. Close examination of Seneca’s views about the development of technology and medicine and about the communication of philosophical ideas shows that the Cynic claim that the philosopher can and should slough off the bonds of society stands at odds with Seneca’s description of philosophy’s social enmeshment.

This chapter addresses the position of Jews in Lithuania between the two world wars. Although the history of inter-war Lithuania reveals many political failures, it is clear that, even during the authoritarian period, civil society continued to develop. Illiteracy was largely eradicated and impressive advances were made in social and intellectual life. In addition, land reform created a prosperous farming community whose products made up the bulk of the country's exports. The first years of Lithuanian independence were marked by a far-reaching experiment in Jewish autonomy. The experiment attracted wide attention across the Jewish world and was taken as a model by some Jewish politicians in Poland. Jewish autonomy also seemed to be in the interests of Lithuanians. The bulk of the Lithuanian lands remained largely agricultural until the First World War. Relations between Jews, who were the principal intermediaries between the town and manor and the countryside, and the mainly peasant Lithuanians took the form of a hostile symbiosis. This relationship was largely peaceful, and anti-Jewish violence was rare, although, as elsewhere, the relationship was marked by mutual contempt.

Chapter 2 sets the village of Dlonguébougou within its wider region. Long-term shifts in rainfall have shaped the landscape and societies, from prehistory through to the emergence of the Ghana, Mali, and Songhai Empires, relying on trans-Saharan trade in gold, salt, and slaves. The Bambara kingdom of Ségou used warfare to exact tribute and control trade, but by the time of the French conquest, much of the region had been taken under the jihadist rule of El Hajj Oumar Tall. The colonial administration had profound, long-lasting impacts on village life, taxation, forced labour, military recruitment, and legal and political systems. Economic and political events since Independence in 1960 are described, including the growing conflict in the north and centre of the country, sparked by demands for Tuareg autonomy, but now spread into widespread instability.

This chapter examines the backgrounds of several elite networks and coalitions that were instrumental to establishing independence and, subsequently, peace in the 1990s, focusing on the relationships, configurations of power, and ideas that they drew on and further embedded. Being denied access to significant external funding or support, these networks were largely dependent upon one another for either their survival as elites or for their prosperity. Their mutual dependence reverberates throughout the independence discourse, building layers of meaning around the idea that Somaliland was forged through the self-reliance of its people, which followed on from the self-reliance demonstrated by earlier civil society movements and the Somali National Movement (SNM) guerilla fighters. This framing of history is not only used to illustrate the authenticity of Somaliland’s independence but also the degree to which its experience upends hegemonic assumptions about state fragility and the usefulness of international intervention for correcting it. This chapter thus explores the ways in which the autonomy of local actors is framed as one of the core elements of Somaliland’s peace-building processes.

This final chapter opens with Toussaint Louverture in Santo Domingo in 1802, preoccupied with the possibility of a new French invasion. In February, General Leclerc invaded Cape Haitian in the north; Toussaint was captured by French troops and taken to France as prisoner. Although his demise occurred for various reasons, most problematic are the tactics he embraced during the period of 1793-1799, wherein he neglected the interests of the former enslaved people and instead allied himself with the upper class and military interests. The rallying cry of “freedom for all” for the population of the former French colony did not imply that formerly enslaved masses could enjoy autonomy or freely cultivate edible crops on their own properties. While not all rebel leaders fit into the same social category, they did have different interests than the former slaves. Trouillot reminds readers that a true revolution produces profound social changes, inverting the old social order; and thus formerly-enslaved people should have all become property owners. However, the competing revolutionary leaders (including Rigaud, Beauvais, and Toussaint) stunted this possibility, neglecting the needs of the poor majority. It was chiefly the economic aspect of independence that divided Toussaint from the masses. After taking control of the former colony, Toussaint imposed import and export taxes that benefited European countries and the United States instead of Haitians; U.S.-built warehouses popped up on the capital’s wharf, and Saint-Domingue remained economically dependent. The former slaves benefited in no way from growing the sugar, coffee or cotton that they were required to produce during Toussaint’s reign; they were punished for planting food crops. Worse still, Toussaint required that the ex-slaves “respect” the integrity of former plantations by staying and working on them, while he distributed free land to rebel officers. The idea of “freedom” thus lost its resonance amongst the masses. Although members of the State of Saint-Domingue and the ruling class gained economically, it was at the expense of the former enslaved workers. From this point, the behavior of the Haitian State was that of sitting heavily upon the new nation, since their economic and political interests were at odds with one another. A host of contradictions emerged: Dependence/ Independence, Plantations/Small Farms, Commodity/Food crops, White/Black, Mulatto/Black, Mulatto/White, Catholic/Vodou, and French/Creole. Although the Constitution of 1801 abolished slavery and supposedly “guaranteed freedom” to all, it reinforced these fundamental contradictions. The “Moyse Affair” in late 1801 illustrates Trouillot’s understanding of Toussaint’s betrayal of the Haitian people. Moyse, Toussaint’s adopted nephew, had populist political ideas that attracted the black masses. Fearing his potentially subversive ambitions, Toussaint had Moyse judged by a military commission that included Christophe, Vernet, and Pageaux. Moyse was condemned to death and executed, effectively crushing the interests of the masses. Throughout the Revolution Toussaint maintained power by crafting coalitions amongst a wide variety of social classes and competing interests. The dominance of the new military class was a social contradiction that had to be masked, and Toussaint’s actions showed a will to conceal it. Aspects of this problematic behavior and ideology have reappeared in Haiti under Dessalines, Christophe, Salomon, Estimé, Duvalier and others. Official discourse is grounded in several central notions that are easily manipulated by Haitian leaders: first, the notion of “family,” allowing the concealed dominance of one group and the privileging the organized Catholic religion; second, the idea that Haitians should “respect property”; and, the myth of nèg kapab (“capable people”) who possess an inherent right to govern and oppress the people. The political concept of “family,” common throughout Africa and countries with African descendants, was employed by Toussaint as a form of social control: throughout the revolution Toussaint refers to the new Haitian society as a family in order to advance his own “paternal” political objectives and conceal its many contradictions. The state—which his ideology came to epitomize—began to take advantage of the people; it was akin to a vèvè, a matrix holding society together, and a Gordian knot, where complex and twisted socio-economic contradictions favoring a certain class were inscribed. Although Toussaint was kidnapped by the invasion of Leclerc in 1802, this motivated the Haitian masses to stand up and fight for independence from France, which ultimately led to freedom. Thus, living up to the surname of “Louverture” that was given him, Toussaint indeed opened the barrier to independence and warrants appreciation for that. When one revisits the ideology of Toussaint Louverture, and concurrently that of the state of Saint-Domingue, one must not forget that, in spite of all its weaknesses, libèté jénéral (“freedom for all”, or “universal freedom” in today’s terms) was originally a powerful unifying factor, which merits recognition: it helped Toussaint’s troops defeat the British, crush Hédouville, etc. Toussaint was betrayed by plantation owners and French and American commissioners alike, and he always maintained some faith in France, even if the masses did not. Trouillot implies that Toussaint understood the direction in which he wanted to go, but he got lost on the way. To his credit, Toussaint’s experience demonstrated that liberty without political independence was a senseless notion, and others (such as Dessalines) were able to break with his approach and capitalize on this lesson. The book closes with Grinn Prominnin declaring that he is exhausted and that everyone must return to discuss the situation tomorrow to reach a conclusion. The scene remains peaceful, the people complacent. Trouillot suggests that, more than 170 years after the revolution, the task of bringing about real social change in Haiti—and seeing the ambitions of the Revolution fulfilled—remains starkly inert. Readers easily infer that Haiti’s stagnant socio-economic and political situation (in 1977) is due not only to the as yet unfulfilled promises of the Revolution and War for Independence, but also to the escalating damages wreaked upon the Haitian nation by the Duvalier regime and its manipulative cronyism coupled with its totalitarian indigenist ideology.

Despite the vast amount of literature on ‘spirituality’, the concept remains nebulous and unwieldy. This is only partially explained by the quality of the publications. A more convincing explanation must be sought in the history of the concept of spirituality itself. Until the eighteenth century, this history was just a subplot of the history of religion but, late during this period and encouraged by the rationalism of the Enlightenment, spirituality started to claim its independence from religion. Achieving such autonomy has not been easy and to this day there are publications still claiming that ‘real’ spirituality cannot be conceived of outside the space of religion. A method of analysis is offered in this chapter that may contribute to the shaping of a form of authentic lay or secular spirituality.

This chapter demonstrates how the African Development Bank (AfDB) has been deeply shaped by the history of its continent. Fuelled by a sentiment of independence, the creation of the AfDB was driven by a determination to create a regional bank run by Africans, funded by Africans, and serving African needs. African governments’ desire for autonomy and the quest to break with distorted patterns created by Africa’s colonial past helped position the AfDB as the largest development institution dedicated solely to serve the needs of the continent. This chapter argues that, over the years and—despite significant institutional reform, including the acceptance of non-regional members in its Board from 1982, including the United States and former colonial powers—the AfDB has managed overall to preserve its ‘African identity’.

Chapters Three and Four articulate the competing historical narratives and representations of memory sustaining Myanmar’s ‘Rohingya’ conflict. The last chapter examined the Rohingya ‘Origin’ historical narrative; this chapter considers the Rakhine and Burman perspectives, and interrogates them against the available historical record. This chapter documents and analyses three Rakhine—Burman perspectives, which the authors designate: a) the Rakhine ‘Independence’ narrative, which justifies demands for their autonomy from Burman domination; b) the Burman ‘Unity’ narrative, which claims a shared ancestry and historical unity between all of Myanmar’s national races (excluding Rohingya) as the basis for expectations that minorities will unite with them, to form a political community at the heart of the Union of Myanmar; and c) the Rakhine-Burman ‘Infiltration’ narrative, which claims an influx of Bengali Muslims during the colonial and post-Independence period poses an existential threat to the ethnic Rakhine, to Buddhism and to the Myanmar nation. Discussion of each of these narratives includes an assessment of written historical sources and their sociopolitical context, and an overview and critique of these narratives in the light of known history and Bar-Tal’s (2013) ideas about intractable conflict. The chapter concludes with a demographic analysis highlighting the growth of the Muslim population in Rakhine during the colonial period.

This chapter assesses Idi Amin's seizure of power, which was central both to his life story and to his image and myth. For most, including many Ugandans, the 1971 coup represents the key moment in Uganda's post-independence history, at which the country began to slide downwards economically, socially, and politically, towards a penurious despotism. Unsurprisingly, there are widely differing accounts of the actual events of January 25, 1971, even among those who were there at the time and knew many of the participants. At the time, Amin's seizure of state power was widely welcomed in both Uganda and the West. The chapter considers British archive material from the period and later Ugandan analyses of the coup. The evidence suggests that the British High Commission knew little about what was going on, while the Israelis certainly seem to have had greater involvement, and Burka Bar-Lev may well have advised and assisted Amin before and during the coup. This does not, however, mean that the Israelis were 'behind it', rather than simply trying to steer and take advantage of events that were unfolding anyway.