
r/Colonialism

The Zambezi Donas
The Donas of Zumbo During the Portuguese Empire.
This is a rich and nuanced topic. Drawing on the searches and what is well-established in the scholarship of Newitt, Isaacman, and Rodrigues, here is a detailed account of how the donas built chieftaincy-like structures:
How the Zambezi Donas Built African-Style Chieftainships
- The Structural Parallel: Overlord and Sub-Chiefs
- The most fundamental parallel with African chieftaincy was the relationship between a dona and the local African chiefs resident on her prazo. The prazeiros only rarely removed the local chiefs resident on their estates, preferring to retain them as subordinates. Wikipedia This was exactly how an African paramount chief operated: not by eliminating subordinate lineage heads, but by incorporating them into a hierarchy of loyalty and tribute. The dona sat at the apex; below her were the fumos (headmen) and lesser chiefs of individual villages, who owed her allegiance, provided labour and tribute, and in return received her protection. This mirrored the relationship between a Tonga or Karanga paramount and their subordinate village heads almost precisely.
- The authority of the local chief was preserved through a policy of marriage alliances between the prazeiros and the African chiefs, which led to the increase of their power and the establishment of stability in a region of intestine fights. Hpip The dona, like an African chief, legitimised herself not through Portuguese legal title alone but through kinship webs woven by strategic marriage — exactly as African rulers did.
- The Mussoco: Tribute as the Currency of Power
- Central to African chieftaincy was the collection of tribute from subject peoples, and the donas replicated this precisely through the mussoco (also written mutsonko). At the bottom of the hierarchy were the families of farmers, the colonists who had to pay the mussoco or mutsonko: “in the pre-capitalist societies of Zambezia this had been a common tribute (rent in victuals) paid by the farmer to aristocracy or lineage chiefs.” Hpip
- The dona thus placed herself in the structural position of an African aristocrat, receiving the same customary tribute that Tonga and Karanga chiefs had always collected. To the local African population this would have been entirely legible as chieftaincy, not European landlordism.
- Matrilineal Inheritance: The African Logic Takes Over
- A crucial dimension was that Portuguese law, combined with African custom, made the donas’ power hereditary through the female line. This land belonged to women of African roots, being inherited by her first-born daughter and by her granddaughter. Embodied mainly by the “donas” in Zambezia, this regime of land grant was in force for a long period, resulting ultimately in the syncretism of several cultures: Portuguese, Asian and African, which, intertwined into a single culture, gave rise to a new and powerful civilization, which can be labelled as Creole. Hpip
- In many central African societies — particularly the Maravi and related peoples of the Zambezi valley — matrilineal descent was the norm for transmission of political authority. When prazo inheritance followed exactly this pattern, passing from mother to eldest daughter, the institution became culturally legible to African subjects as a chieftaincy in their own terms, not a foreign imposition.
In sum, the Zambezi donas did not merely run estates that happened to resemble chieftaincies. They actively became chiefs in the African sense: collecting tribute, commanding armies, arranging political marriages, inheriting power through the female line, dispensing justice, and defying any external authority — Portuguese or African — that challenged them. It was this completeness of the transformation that made the prazo system such a remarkable and historically unusual phenomenon.
Extract from 4Daniel Trilogy
\## Chapter 7: The Ghost of Rhodes: Sabotage and the Neo-Colonial Agenda
On the night of July 25, 1982, a silence more profound than usual settled over the Thornhill Air Force Base in Gweru, Zimbabwe. Just two years into its life as an independent republic, the nation was still weaving the disparate threads of its former guerrilla armies into a cohesive national defense force. Thornhill, the country’s main fighter base, was the physical embodiment of this new sovereignty. Yet, in the pre-dawn darkness, a highly trained commando unit—silent, unseen, and devastatingly efficient—slipped past its perimeter.
They placed explosives and used phosphorus grenades, setting off a chain reaction that tore through the parked aircraft. By morning, an estimated thirteen of the Air Force’s most advanced fighter-trainers lay ruined—a quarter of Zimbabwe’s combat air assets obliterated in a single, audacious strike.
The Thornhill Sabotage was not merely a military attack; it was a brutal, physical demonstration of the lingering power of the past and the mechanics of a burgeoning \*\*neo-colonial agenda\*\* in Southern Africa.
\### The Spear and the Shield: South Africa's Grand Strategy
To understand the Thornhill attack, one must view the political geography of 1980s Southern Africa not as a collection of independent states, but as a struggle between an emerging \*Front Line\* of sovereign black nations and the entrenched \*Colossus\* of apartheid South Africa.
For Pretoria, the fall of Rhodesia and the birth of Zimbabwe in 1980 had been a catastrophe. The new nation, led by Robert Mugabe's ZANU-PF, was immediately elevated to a critical component of the Front Line States (FLS) coalition, which actively supported the African National Congress (ANC) and its armed wing. A successful, stable, and economically thriving Zimbabwe was an existential threat to the apartheid state. It represented a beacon of multiracial democracy and economic self-determination—a dangerous, compelling example that could inspire the majority population within South Africa's own borders.
This fear drove South Africa’s \*\*Total Strategy\*\*: a systematic, multi-pronged campaign of regional destabilization designed to ensure that no neighbouring state could dedicate its resources to confronting apartheid. The purpose was not necessarily to re-colonize, but to establish a new form of dependence and tutelage—a \*\*neo-colonial dependency\*\* where political sovereignty was hollowed out by economic and military attrition.
\### The Mechanics of Destabilization
The Thornhill raid perfectly encapsulated this Total Strategy, operating on three distinct, corrosive levels:
\#### 1. Military Crippling
The direct consequence was the destruction of military hardware. By eliminating a quarter of Zimbabwe’s airpower, the apartheid regime severely curtailed the nation’s ability to defend its own airspace and, crucially, to participate in the growing regional defense co-operation, such as protecting the vital railway and oil pipelines of Mozambique (the Beira Corridor) from South African-backed insurgents like RENAMO. The message was clear: \*If you build a military to challenge us, we will destroy it.\*
\#### 2. Political and Psychological Warfare
Immediately after the sabotage, the Mugabe government arrested six senior white Air Force officers, all former Rhodesian personnel, on suspicion of treason and aiding the saboteurs. Though a Zimbabwean High Court judge later acquitted the "Thornhill Six," citing confessions extracted under torture, the political damage was done. The incident exploited and deepened the inherent racial and political divisions in post-independence Zimbabwe, particularly between the former white minority who still held critical technical positions and the new black majority government.
The effect was a self-inflicted wound: the attack forced the new government to look \*inward\* at internal security, diverting resources, time, and attention away from national development and the anti-apartheid fight. It poisoned the well of national reconciliation and allowed the apartheid ghost to sow seeds of mistrust and paranoia.
\#### 3. Economic and Infrastructural Erosion
The ability of newly independent African states to achieve true sovereignty rested not just on their flags, but on their ability to break the economic chains inherited from colonialism. Zimbabwe, along with the other FLS, was attempting to transition trade away from its dependence on South African ports and railways.
By proving that a sovereign state's most high-value assets could be attacked at will, Thornhill reinforced the perception of regional instability. This discouraged foreign investment, inflated defense spending, and forced the new government to expend valuable capital on military replacement and security upgrades, rather than schools, hospitals, or land reform. It was a calculated act to bankrupt and distract the nation, keeping it on its knees as a perpetually struggling client state rather than a successful competitor.
The Thornhill Sabotage, therefore, stands not just as a footnote of regional conflict, but as a chilling case study in the architecture of neo-colonialism. It showed how a powerful external actor—using covert special forces and exploiting existing domestic tensions—could maintain effective hegemony over an independent state, ensuring that the fruits of political liberation were constantly blighted by military and economic ruin. For the apartheid state, the smoke rising from Thornhill Air Force Base was a grim signal to the whole continent: the long struggle for true independence had just begun.
TIL that France had colonies in India for almost 300 years. The French East India Company competed against the Dutch (VOC) and East India Company (British). At its peak in 1839, France had 5 separate establishments in India. France lost its last colony at Pondicherry in 1954.
en.wikipedia.orgPopulation centers in the United States with names of Spanish cities, provinces or communities (only in contiguous states).
Did you know that the Ottoman Empire considered the Americas one of its provinces?
The fall of Constantinople in 1453 consolidated the Ottomans as one of the world's greatest powers, controlling the trade routes between East and West.
During the 16th century, the Ottoman Empire not only knew of the existence of the Americas, but even depicted it on some of its maps as a future imperial province under the name Vilayet Antilia (Province of the Antilles).
With the Spanish discovery of the Americas, the New World became of enormous interest to Istanbul. Under the ideology of the "Universal Empire" and the global caliphate, the scholars and bureaucrats of the Sultan's court argued theoretically that these new lands should be under Ottoman sovereignty. Their goal was to challenge the Spanish monopoly over the Americas.
They sought an alternative route to expand into the Atlantic Ocean, finding their ideal base in North Africa at the beginning of the 16th century. To achieve this, the Ottomans needed access to the Atlantic Ocean. After conquering Egypt, Syria, Libya, Tunisia, and Algeria, they attempted to reach the Strait of Cádiz, which was tightly controlled by the Spanish, thus preventing them from having direct access to the Atlantic.
Faced with this obstacle, the Ottoman Empire sought to weaken Spain through a grand alliance with France, which for decades collaborated with the Ottomans against the Spanish Monarchy. Simultaneously, strategic agreements also existed with England to curb Spanish power in Europe and at sea.
However, the Ottoman project ultimately failed. The victory of the Holy League at Lepanto, led by the Spanish Monarchy, halted Ottoman naval expansion in the Mediterranean, and the failure of the second siege of Vienna, in which Spanish troops relieved the city, marked the beginning of the definitive decline of the Ottoman Empire's expansionist aspirations in Europe.
The immense geographical distance, logistical limitations, and Spain's iron grip meant that this dream of Ottoman America never progressed beyond the realm of plans and cartographic projections.
Had the Ottomans reached the Atlantic and crossed into the Americas, the political, cultural, and religious landscape of the continent would have been completely transformed.
The Fall of Madurai’s 72 Bastions and Fort Walls: The Blackburne Story
heritagetamil.inSettler Colonialism in Historical Times and the Present Day
Colonialism, in the popular imagination, is frequently treated as a relic of a bygone era—an historical chapter defined by rubber plantations in the Congo, British viceroys in Delhi, and the eventual, inevitable triumphs of mid-20th-century decolonization. But this view conflates two fundamentally distinct historical phenomena: franchise colonialism and settler colonialism.
Where the franchise colonizer invades to extract resources and exploit indigenous labor before eventually returning to a distant metropole, the settler colonizer invades to stay. As the late Australian sociologist Patrick Wolfe famously observed, settler colonialism is a structure, not an event. Its defining characteristic is the logic of elimination: the systematic displacement, erasure, and replacement of the indigenous population to construct a new sovereign society on their land.
To understand the crises of the modern world—most acutely exemplified by the ongoing catastrophe in Palestine—one must understand that the frontier never closed. Settler colonialism is not history; it is a contemporary, active form of warfare couched in the high-sounding ideals of civilization, security, and manifest destiny.
The Historical Blueprint: From 1492 to the Global Frontiers
The global arc of settler colonialism began in earnest in 1492, initiating a hemisphere-wide cataclysm across the Americas. Historians estimate that the pre-Columbian population of the Americas stood between 50 and 60 million people; over the centuries of European settlement, through a combination of direct frontier violence, forced labor, and introduced pathogens, up to 80 to 90 percent of the Indigenous population was destroyed.
In what would become the United States and Canada, this demographic clearance was rationalized by the doctrine of Manifest Destiny—the belief that Euro-American settlers were divinely ordained to civilize the continent. Land was declared terra nullius (nobody’s land), rendering the existing inhabitants legally invisible.
"The settler-colonial project does not look to exploit the native; it looks to replace him. The land is not empty, and so the settlers empty it."
This blueprint was replicated globally with chilling precision:
- Australia: British colonizers declared the continent empty, systematically driving the Aboriginal populations into the arid interior through state-sanctioned massacres and the forced assimilation of their children.
- Africa: In Apartheid South Africa and colonial Algeria, European minorities seized the fertile agricultural cores, relegating the indigenous majorities to heavily policed internal reserves or bantustans.
- Indonesia: In a variation of internal settler colonialism, the post-independence state utilized "transmigration" programs to move millions of settlers from Java to outer islands like West Papua, systematically diluting indigenous populations and suppressing local sovereignty.
In every instance, the fundamental mechanics remained identical: the settler state creates a legal, military, and mythological apparatus designed to ensure that the native population disappears—biologically, geographically, and historically.
The Mirror of Empire: Zionism as a Settler-Colonial Project
It is within this broader historical continuum that the Zionist project in Palestine must be understood. While contemporary political discourse frequently treats the Israeli-Palestinian conflict as an exceptional, ancient religious dispute, historians like Ilan Pappé have thoroughly demonstrated that it operates precisely within the framework of Western settler colonialism.
As Pappé notes, early Zionist thinkers and pioneers were entirely transparent about this dynamic. Before the mid-20th century transformed "colonialism" into a pejorative term, the movement openly utilized Hebrew terms like le-hitnahel (to settle) and le-hityashev (to colonize). Zionist architect Theodor Herzl actively sought the patronage of European imperialists, framing a Jewish state in Palestine as "a wall of defense for Europe in Asia, an outpost of civilization against barbarism."
The ideological overlap between the American frontier and the Zionist enterprise is striking. Both relied on the founding myth of an empty wilderness—summarized neatly in the Zionist slogan, "A land without a people for a people without a people." Just as the American settler looked at the Indigenous plains and saw an untamed waste requiring Christian stewardship, the Zionist settler looked at Palestinian olive groves and orange orchards and claimed to "make the desert bloom."
This shared ideological DNA explains why older settler-colonial nations—such as the United States, Canada, and Australia—tend to resonate so deeply with the Israeli mindset. They recognize themselves in Israel’s frontier mythology, its security rhetoric, and its foundational anxiety regarding the enduring presence of the native population.
The Logic of Elimination in the 21st Century
The past 75 years of Palestinian history represent a continuous, uninterrupted application of the settler-colonial blueprint. The Nakba of 1948, which saw the forcible expulsion of over 750,000 Palestinians and the deliberate destruction of more than 500 villages, was not an accidental byproduct of war, but the necessary precondition for establishing a demographic settler majority.
In the mid-2020s, this logic has reached its most radical and devastating expression in the Gaza Strip. Following October 2023, the world has witnessed what international jurists, historians, and scholars have increasingly categorized as a televised genocide. By mid-2026, marking well over 1,000 days of relentless bombardment and siege, the direct violent death toll in Gaza has surpassed 75,000 human lives, with tens of thousands more lost to an engineered famine and the systemic demolition of the enclave’s healthcare infrastructure. Crucially, over 21,000 of the dead are children—a statistic that represents what epidemiologists and sociologists call the physical obliteration of a generation's future.
Parsing the Rhetoric of the Settler State
To maintain legitimacy on the global stage, the modern settler-colonial state must become an expert in the art of propaganda. It must invert reality, framing the colonizer as the victim and the colonized as the existential threat.
When Israel deploys phrases like "the right to self-defense," "human shields," or "the defense of Western values against terror," it is merely updating the rhetoric used by European settlers for centuries. When early American colonists massacred Pequot or Lakota villages, they did so under the guise of defending civilized settlements against "savages." When the British military hunted Aboriginal Australians, it was framed as a pacification campaign to protect industrious pioneers.
The modern propaganda apparatus works tirelessly to isolate the violence of the colonized from its structural context. By stripping away the history of military occupation, land theft, and systemic apartheid, the resistance of the native is transformed into irrational, pathological hatred. The settler state relies on this deception because it knows that if the global public recognizes the structural reality—that a heavily militarized nuclear state is actively clearing an indigenous population from its land—the moral facade of the project crumbles.
Welcome to r/SettlerColonialismNow
This subreddit is established to serve as an intellectual clearinghouse, a space for rigorous analysis, and a community of conscience dedicated to exposing these structures where they exist.
We reject the premise that settler colonialism is a closed book of the past. From the stolen lands of the Thunderbird to the besieged blocks of Gaza, the mechanics of erasure remain active. Our task here is to parse the rhetoric, unmask the propaganda, document the statistics, and stand firmly in solidarity with indigenous resistance across the globe.
The frontier is still contested. The struggle is now.
Chinua Achebe’s Hopes and Impediments
Chinua Achebe's "Hopes and Impediments": A Critical Examination of African Colonialism
- Introduction: Chinua Achebe's "Hopes and Impediments" as a Postcolonial Manifesto
Chinua Achebe, widely revered as an "eagle on the Oroko" and the "father of modern African literature," stands as a monumental figure whose literary and critical work profoundly shaped global understanding of African experiences. His essay collection, Hopes and Impediments: Selected Essays, 1965–1987, published in 1988, is a pivotal articulation of his anti-colonial and cultural nationalist positions. The collection garnered significant recognition, including the prestigious Man Booker International Prize in 2007, underscoring its enduring significance. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
The very title, "Hopes and Impediments," encapsulates the collection's core purpose: to describe the aspirations of Africans for liberation and self-determination, while simultaneously exposing the myriad obstacles—primarily rooted in the enduring legacies of colonialism, racism, and Western prejudice—that impede their progress. Achebe's work consistently aims to foster open and equal dialogue between Africans and Europeans, and between black and white individuals. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
This collection transcends mere literary criticism; it functions as a direct and forceful intervention in the ongoing struggle for cultural decolonization. Achebe strategically utilizes these essays to systematically challenge entrenched Western misrepresentations of Africa, advocate for the inherent dignity and validity of African cultures, and define the crucial social and moral dimensions of African literature. It represents Achebe's consistent intellectual project to reclaim African narratives and assert African humanity against centuries of denigration and imposed inferiority. A crucial aspect of this work is the way the title itself, "Hopes and Impediments," functions as a deeply symbolic framing of the postcolonial condition. The "hopes" articulated by Achebe directly point to the aspirations for genuine liberation, self-determination, and the restoration of cultural pride among Africans. Conversely, the "impediments" unequivocally highlight the persistent challenges posed by entrenched racism, historical prejudice, and the ongoing struggle for equitable dialogue between continents. By juxtaposing these two concepts, Achebe implicitly argues that the journey towards true African liberation is not a singular event but an ongoing, dialectical process, involving a continuous effort to overcome inherited colonial burdens while simultaneously nurturing and advancing the aspirations for a self-defined future. This framing suggests that the postcolonial era is characterized by a dynamic tension between the lingering effects of the past and the active construction of a new identity and future. Furthermore, Achebe's mission, particularly evident in essays like "The Novelist as Teacher," extends beyond merely correcting external misrepresentations of Africa. He aims to be a guide for a reformed post-imperial African subjectivity. This perspective highlights a crucial internal dimension of his project, suggesting that literature serves as a vital tool for the psychological and cultural reconstruction of Africans themselves. Colonialism inflicted deep wounds, including the erosion of self-esteem and cultural confidence. Achebe's role was to help rebuild this internal sense of worth, pride, and moral authority, fostering a new, self-assured African identity in the aftermath of imperial rule. This demonstrates a deeper, restorative purpose for his writing, extending beyond informational correction to encompass a process of collective healing and re-empowerment for the formerly colonized. [1][2][3][4][5][6] - Achebe's Intellectual Formation and the Colonial Encounter
Chinua Achebe's profound engagement with colonialism was deeply rooted in his personal history and intellectual development. Born in Ogidi, Colonial Nigeria, in 1930, his formative years were uniquely shaped by the "crossroads of traditional culture and Christian influence". His parents, converts to the Protestant Church Mission Society, maintained respect for traditional practices due to the influence of his uncle, Chief Udoh. This dual heritage provided Achebe with an intimate, nuanced understanding of the complexities inherent in cultural collision. This bicultural formation is not merely a biographical detail; it is the fundamental wellspring of his critical perspective. His unique position, simultaneously steeped in Igbo traditions and exposed to colonial Christianity and Western education, allowed him to develop a dual lens. This enabled him to perceive the inherent biases and misrepresentations within Western narratives from an informed, internal African perspective, rather than as a detached observer. This bicultural fluency became a critical tool, allowing him to not only critique the colonizer's worldview but also to address the subtle ways in which the colonized might internalize inferiority. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
His childhood was steeped in storytelling, encompassing both the rich oral traditions of the Igbo people and Western literary forms like Shakespeare and Bunyan, which were present in his home. His formal education, from Christian mission schools to the prestigious Government College Umuahia and the University of Ibadan, deeply immersed him in Western academic systems. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
During his university studies, Achebe became "fiercely critical of how Western literature depicted Africa". A seminal moment was his encounter with Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, which he found to be profoundly racist and dehumanizing in its portrayal of Africans. His indignation was further ignited by Joyce Cary's Mister Johnson, a novel he felt depicted Nigerian characters as either "savages or buffoons". This critical realization solidified his resolve to become a writer, specifically to correct these pervasive misrepresentations. This intellectual awakening prompted his significant academic shift from medicine to literature. His early short stories, written during this period, frequently explored the inherent conflict between Christianity and traditional African cultures, a theme that would become central to his more renowned later works. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
Achebe firmly believed that literature possessed profound "social and political importance," serving as a "necessary critical perspective on everyday experience" and empowering readers with "greater control over our social and personal lives". He articulated a "dual mission": to educate both African and European readers. This involved challenging entrenched stereotypes of Africans as primitive, presenting the intricate complexities of African societies, and, crucially, "reinstate a sense of pride in African cultures". His ultimate aim was to help his society "regain belief in itself and put away the complexes of years of denigration and self-abasement". This objective highlights a critical understanding of the deep psychological impact of colonialism. The "impediments" to liberation were not solely external political or economic structures, but also the internal wounds of cultural erasure and imposed inferiority. Achebe recognized that true decolonization required addressing these internal scars. Therefore, literature, for him, transcended mere storytelling; it became a form of collective therapy and re-education. Its purpose was to restore dignity, agency, and a sense of historical continuity to a people whose identity had been systematically undermined. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
Achebe consciously chose to write in English, viewing it not as a capitulation but as a "tactical move to 'infiltrate the enemy's ranks and subvert it from the inside'". This allowed him to reach a broad, international audience, including readers in colonial nations. He was, however, careful to advocate for a use of English that preserved its international communicative value while respecting African linguistic traditions. This deliberate choice, contrasting with other African writers who rejected the colonizer's language, is a sophisticated act of resistance, not assimilation. His perspective reveals a profound strategic understanding. This is not a simple acceptance of colonial influence but a calculated repurposing of the colonizer's linguistic tool for the purpose of indigenous liberation. By mastering and re-shaping English, Achebe could communicate African realities and counter-narratives directly to the very audiences that had been fed distorted images. This challenges a simplistic, binary understanding of anti-colonialism, demonstrating that decolonization can involve complex acts of appropriation and subversion, turning instruments of oppression into weapons of resistance. [1][2][3][4][5][6] - Deconstructing the Colonial Gaze: Core Essays and Arguments
This section details Achebe's specific critiques within Hopes and Impediments, demonstrating how he systematically dismantles colonial narratives and challenges Western intellectual hegemony.
"An Image of Africa: Racism in Conrad's Heart of Darkness"
This essay serves as the collection's powerful opening and is widely recognized as a "landmark in postcolonial discourse". Achebe "fiercely resents the stereotype of Africa as an undifferentiated 'primitive' land, the 'heart of darkness'". He directly accuses Joseph Conrad of perpetuating "prejudices against the Africans through his novella" and controversially labels Conrad "a bloody racist". Achebe critically questions the prevailing academic consensus that considers Heart of Darkness a great novel, asserting that "a novel which celebrates this dehumanization, which depersonalizes a portion of the human races can be [called] a great work of art". He fundamentally believes that literature should not contribute to the devaluation of any group of people. He meticulously points out how Conrad depicts Africa as "inscrutable, unspeakable and mysterious," and portrays Europeans as having only a "remote kinship with Africa," thereby revealing a deeply ingrained racist attitude. Achebe's persistent and vehement critique of Conrad and his broader challenge to Western literary criticism reveal a fundamental conviction: that misrepresentation in literature is not a benign artistic flaw but an active force in perpetuating and legitimizing colonial power structures. By systematically dehumanizing Africans, such literature creates a psychological and ideological framework that rationalizes and enables physical, economic, and political exploitation. This highlights the profound political efficacy of literature, demonstrating its capacity to both maintain and dismantle systems of power. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
"The Novelist as Teacher"
In this essay, Achebe clearly articulates his pedagogical mission, stating that it is "not only to undertake a corrective anthropology of Africa but also and even more importantly to be a pedagogue of a reformed post-imperial African subjectivity". He emphasizes the writer's duty to "help society to regain belief in itself" and to "put away denigration and self-abasement". This includes instilling faith in concepts such as "African personality," "African democracy," and "African way of socialism". The essay powerfully underscores literature's vital role in providing a "necessary critical perspective on everyday experience" and offering individuals "greater control over our social and personal lives". [1][2][3][4][5][6]
"Colonialist Criticism"
Achebe robustly critiques the "European mentality" that dismisses the African past as "inglorious". He exposes the glaring double standard in Western literary evaluation: while a Western writer's work is "automatically granted universality," an African writer composing in English must "strive hard to achieve the same". He vehemently rejects paternalistic attitudes, exemplified by his sharp criticism of Albert Schweitzer's condescending comment: "The African is indeed my brother, but my junior brother". While urging Africans to take responsibility for their own problems and resist the temptation to blame others , he also aligns with A.D. Hope's sentiment that "The happy writers today were those writing in small languages," implicitly advocating for the authenticity and power of indigenous voices. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
"Named for Victoria, Queen of England"
This essay offers a nuanced exploration of colonialism's complex and often contradictory impacts. Achebe acknowledges certain perceived "bounties of Christian God" brought by colonialism, such as "education and paid jobs" and the cessation of practices like the killing of twins. However, he simultaneously highlights the profound cultural disruption and division, illustrating it by contrasting his own Christian family with his uncle's family, who remained "blinded by heathenism". His personal experience of being "Named for Victoria, Queen of England" serves as a potent symbol of the imposition of colonial identity and the inherent complexities of existing within a bicultural reality. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
"Thoughts on the African Novel"
Achebe definitively asserts that an African novel "must be about an African". He explicitly clarifies that Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness is not an African novel, emphasizing that this distinction is "not a matter of color" but fundamentally a matter of content, perspective, and centering. He sharply criticizes the "European prejudice" that suggests an African literary work can only achieve greatness if it addresses a "universal problem" deemed relevant to Western contexts. He challenges this by asking, "...before I write about a problem, I must first verify whether they have it too in New York and London and Paris?". This question exposes the Eurocentric bias in literary evaluation. This frustration with the implicit expectation that African literature must address "universal" problems to be deemed great exposes a subtle yet potent form of colonialist control. This is not merely a matter of differing literary tastes; it functions as a mechanism of intellectual gatekeeping. By demanding universality, Western critics implicitly position their own cultural experiences and concerns as the default benchmark for human relevance, thereby devaluing and marginalizing African particularity. Achebe's forceful pushback challenges this Eurocentric definition of "universal," asserting the inherent value and, indeed, the universal resonance within specific African experiences. This reveals a hidden pattern of intellectual control that masquerades as objective critical standards, ultimately serving to maintain Western cultural dominance. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
He passionately advocates for the "freedom of African writers to write according to their 'abilities, sensibilities and vision'" and boldly declares that "the great African novel will not be about a disreputable European". This statement underscores his profound rejection of colonial narratives that privilege European experiences and his unwavering call for African literature to authentically center African stories and characters. His unwavering insistence that an African novel "must be about an African" and his categorical rejection of the "disreputable European" as a central figure constitute a powerful call for self-definition. This extends beyond a mere literary preference; it is a foundational principle for reclaiming agency and narrative sovereignty. By centering African experiences, perspectives, and voices, Achebe asserts that Africans must be the primary narrators and subjects of their own stories, rather than remaining objects of a foreign, often distorting, gaze. This has profound broader implications for the construction of national identity, cultural autonomy, and intellectual independence in the postcolonial era, emphasizing that true liberation requires control over one's own narrative. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
Table 1: Key Essays and Their Anti-Colonial Focus in Hopes and Impediments
Essay Title
Primary Anti-Colonial Focus/Argument
Key Statement/Quote
Relevant Sources
"An Image of Africa: Racism in Conrad's Heart of Darkness"
Critiques the racist and dehumanizing portrayal of Africa in Western literature, particularly Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, challenging its status as a great work of art.
"a novel which celebrates this dehumanization, which depersonalizes a portion of the human races can be [called] a great work of art"
"The Novelist as Teacher"
Defines the writer's pedagogical role in cultural reclamation, emphasizing the need to restore African self-belief and dignity against colonial denigration.
"help society to regain belief in itself and put away denigration and self-abasement"
"Colonialist Criticism"
Exposes the Eurocentric biases and double standards in Western literary criticism, rejecting paternalistic views of African culture and history.
"The African is indeed my brother, but my junior brother" (critiquing Schweitzer)
"Named for Victoria, Queen of England"
Explores the complex, often contradictory impacts of colonialism on African identity and culture, acknowledging some perceived benefits while highlighting profound disruption.
Illustrates the imposition of colonial identity through his own name.
"Thoughts on the African Novel"
Asserts the necessity of centering African experiences in African literature, challenging Western demands for "universality" and declaring autonomy for African narrative.
"the great African novel will not be about a disreputable European"
- Hopes for Liberation, Impediments to Dialogue
Achebe articulates the fundamental "hopes of Africans" for true liberation and for a future where the destructive effects of racism and injustice in Western society are eradicated. He consistently stresses the "importance of maintaining good relations between the continents" and advocates for "Cultural Exchange in a Spirit of Partnership between North and South". Crucially, he emphasizes that genuine partnership necessitates "equality" and the unequivocal acceptance of the "humanity of blacks" by Europeans. Despite the formidable challenges, Achebe instills hope that the impediments to "open, equal dialogue between Africans and Europeans, between blacks and whites" will ultimately be overcome. Achebe’s overarching mission, as articulated in his essays, is to empower African society to "regain belief in itself and put away the complexes of years of denigration and self-abasement". [1][2][3][4][5][6]
Achebe meticulously identifies the "impediments that stay in their way to liberation". These include the "destructive effects of racism and injustice in Western society". He sharply criticizes figures like V.S. Naipaul, accusing him of doing "injustice to Africa, India and South America by segregating them in his Area of Darkness" and for his dismissive claim that "Africa has no future". A significant impediment is the persistence of the "unrepentant Conradian eye of imperialistically minded foreign critics," which continues to harbor "slimy Conradian racist strains". This leads to an "ingrained suspiciousness and irritability vis-à-vis any intruding eye from the imperial west" due to historical denigrations and "imperialist psycho-cultural aggressions". The challenge of defining an "authentic African" also serves as an impediment, as Western scholars like Janheinz Jahn impose definitions that equate the "real African" with the primitive, leaving educated Africans struggling for identity within this imposed framework. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
The identification of ongoing "impediments" such as V.S. Naipaul's claims that "Africa has no future" and the "unrepentant Conradian eye" of Western critics signifies that the impact of colonialism extends far beyond the physical cessation of occupation. It leaves a deep and insidious residue of intellectual and psychological prejudice that continues to influence global perceptions and interactions. The implication is that true decolonization is not merely a political achievement but a protracted cultural and epistemological struggle against ingrained biases that continue to shape international relations, academic discourse, and even self-perception. This highlights the long-term, systemic nature of colonial legacies. Furthermore, Achebe's dual mission to educate both Western and African readers, specifically to help Africans "regain belief in itself and put away the complexes of years of denigration and self-abasement," reveals a profound understanding of the psychological toll of colonialism. The "impediments" are not solely external manifestations of racism and biased criticism; they also include the internal scars of self-doubt, identity confusion, and the internalization of inferiority fostered by centuries of colonial narratives. This highlights a complex relationship where external denigration leads to internalized psychological complexes, which then become further significant obstacles to genuine liberation. Achebe's work, therefore, addresses both the external critique of colonial power and the internal process of psychological and cultural healing. [1][2][3][4][5][6]
Table 2: Achebe's Critique of Western Misrepresentations in Hopes and Impediments
Western Misrepresentation/Attitude
Source/Figure Criticized by Achebe
Achebe's Counter-Argument/Critique
Relevant Sources
Africa as primitive, undifferentiated "darkness"
Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness
Africa is diverse, complex, and has its own rich history and cultures; Conrad's portrayal is racist and dehumanizing.
Africa having "no future" or being segregated
V.S. Naipaul's An Area of Darkness
Naipaul does injustice by segregating continents and dismissing Africa's potential; Africa is a "crossroad of cultures."
African past as "inglorious" or inferior
European mentality/Colonialist Criticism
The African past, despite imperfections, was not "one long night of savagery"; it contained much of value.
Africans as "junior brothers"
Albert Schweitzer's paternalism
This comment exemplifies condescending and paternalistic attitudes that deny African equality and full humanity.
African literature only great if "universal" (i.e., Western-relevant)
Professor Eldred Jones's evaluation of Soyinka's Interpreters
African writers should have the freedom to write about African problems without needing Western validation; an African novel must be about an African.
Educated Africans lacking identity
Janheinz Jahn's definition of "authentic African"
Western scholars impose narrow, primitive definitions of "real African," denying identity to educated Africans.
- The Interplay of Essay and Fiction: Achebe's Unified Vision
Achebe's celebrated novels, particularly the African Trilogy (Things Fall Apart, Arrow of God, No Longer at Ease), serve as powerful narrative explorations of the very issues dissected in his essays. They directly depict the "impact of European colonialism on African societies, particularly the conflicts between traditional values and modern influences". [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10]
Things Fall Apart was explicitly conceived and written as a "self-conscious counter-discourse to Europe's discursive invention of stock images of a colonisable Africa". It directly challenges the "racist, dehumanizing portrayal of Africans" found in works like Heart of Darkness, which Achebe critiques in his essays. The novel vividly portrays pre-colonial Igbo life, culture, and traditions, showcasing a "fully functioning administration, religion, justice system, social and family rituals". This narrative act directly fulfills Achebe's essayistic goal of undertaking a "corrective anthropology of Africa" , providing an authentic internal perspective. [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10]
The profound "cultural conflict" and "clash between traditional values and modern influences" depicted in Things Fall Apart directly mirrors the "impediments to dialogue" that Achebe analyzes in his essays. The tragic downfall of Okonkwo, symbolizing the destruction of Igbo culture by colonial influence , is a powerful narrative embodiment of the "untold agonies" Africans suffered due to pervasive prejudices. Consistent with his essayistic purpose, Achebe's novels, like his non-fiction, aim to "dispel the colonial myth of the primitive African and to establish a true image of the people and their culture". He consciously avoids idealizing either African or European culture, opting instead for a nuanced and balanced portrayal. The "pedagogical role" of the writer, a central theme in essays like "The Novelist as Teacher" , is clearly manifested in his novels' efforts to "remind his own people of their past and to assert that it had contained much of value". Achebe's strategic choice to write in English to reach a broad, international audience is a consistent thread that links both his fictional and non-fictional works, demonstrating a unified approach to his literary mission. [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10]
The striking thematic congruence between Achebe's essays and his novels – evident in their shared focus on the critique of Conrad, the imperative of cultural reclamation, and the writer's social role – strongly suggests a symbiotic relationship between his theoretical and creative output. The essays articulate the intellectual framework, the critical motivations, and the philosophical underpinnings that profoundly inform and drive his fictional creations. For instance, Things Fall Apart is not merely a standalone narrative; it functions as a powerful narrative demonstration of the arguments Achebe meticulously lays out in "An Image of Africa" and "The Novelist as Teacher." This implies that Achebe's entire body of work constitutes a coherent, multi-genre project of decolonization, where his theoretical understandings inform his creative practice, and his fictional narratives, in turn, provide empirical validation for his theoretical assertions.
While Achebe's essays directly discuss the "impediments to dialogue between North and South," his novels, particularly Things Fall Apart, brilliantly narrativize these abstract impediments through the tragic trajectory of characters and the unfolding of the plot. The profound cultural misunderstanding and communication breakdown between the Igbo community and the British colonial forces, culminating in the District Commissioner's reductionist plan to write a book titled The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger , is a fictionalized embodiment of the very "impediments" and "colonialist criticism" Achebe dissects analytically in his essays. This demonstrates how Achebe's fiction gives human, dramatic, and emotionally resonant form to his theoretical arguments, making them accessible and impactful beyond the realm of academic discourse. The narrative serves as a concrete illustration of the abstract concepts, forging a powerful connection between his critical thought and his artistic expression. [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10] - Conclusion: Enduring Impact on Postcolonial Studies and African Literature
Hopes and Impediments unequivocally solidified Achebe's international reputation as a "trenchantly anti-imperialist" literary voice. The collection, along with his other critical writings, contributed significantly to the emergence and shaping of postcolonial studies as a distinct and influential academic field. His seminal critique of Heart of Darkness in "An Image of Africa" became a "landmark in postcolonial discourse" and has since achieved mainstream acceptance, notably being included in critical editions of Conrad's own work. This demonstrates a direct and profound impact on Western literary canons and critical practices, forcing a re-evaluation of established narratives. The fact that Achebe's critique of Heart of Darkness not only gained widespread acceptance but became "mainstream" and was even incorporated into Norton critical editions of Conrad's novel signifies a monumental shift in the landscape of literary studies. This is far more than a single author's opinion gaining traction; it represents a successful and profound challenge to the Western literary canon's self-proclaimed universality and its historical authority to define "great literature." Achebe, writing from the "periphery" of the formerly colonized world, effectively compelled the "center" of Western academia to critically re-evaluate its own foundational texts and inherent biases. This highlights how Achebe's incisive critique led directly to a significant re-evaluation of the Western literary canon and a dramatic increase in the legitimacy and influence of postcolonial perspectives. [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10]
The collection, read in conjunction with his novels, played a crucial role in challenging "Eurocentric and essentialist notions of culture and identity," thereby promoting a "more nuanced and critical understanding of cultural difference and diversity". Achebe's work provided a vital "vocabulary and framework for analyzing the complex power relations, cultural hybridities, and forms of resistance in postcolonial literature" , equipping scholars and readers with tools to deconstruct colonial legacies. He consistently emphasized the profound "social and moral dimensions" of art, a truth that he argued was often obscured or outright dismissed in Western literary traditions. The collection's unwavering focus on cultural decolonization, the assertion of racial pride, the restoration of cultural dignity, and the reclaiming of native moral authority continues to resonate powerfully in contemporary global discussions about identity, heritage, and the ongoing struggle against neo-colonialism. [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10]
Despite being published in 1988, the core themes articulated in Hopes and Impediments—namely, the imperative to overcome racism, foster equal dialogue, and achieve cultural reclamation—remain acutely pertinent in the contemporary "glocal" (global-local) landscape. Discussions surrounding identity, cultural borders, and the persistent challenges of neo-colonialism continue unabated. The observation that "the controversies in the field, particularly, circulating around the term 'post-colonial/postcolonial' itself continue unabated" further underscores that Achebe's foundational arguments continue to provide a crucial and indispensable lens for understanding complex contemporary global dynamics. This implies that the "hopes" Achebe articulated are still actively being pursued, and the "impediments" he identified are still being confronted, making the collection a timeless and enduring guide for navigating the intricate cultural and political complexities of our interconnected world.
1, https://www.researchgate.net/publication/337012366\_A\_CRITICAL\_REVIEW\_OF\_ACHEBE'S\_HOPES\_AND\_IMPEDIMENTS ((PDF) A CRITICAL REVIEW OF ACHEBE'S HOPES AND IMPEDIMENTS - ResearchGate)
2, https://www.riversendbookstore.com/book/9780385414791 (Hopes and Impediments: Selected Essays (Paperback) | the river's end bookstore)
3, https://www.researchgate.net/publication/337012366\_A\_CRITICAL\_REVIEW\_OF\_ACHEBE'S\_HOPES\_AND\_IMPEDIMENTS ((PDF) A CRITICAL REVIEW OF ACHEBE'S HOPES AND IMPEDIMENTS - ResearchGate)
4, https://journals.openedition.org/ces/11423 (Chinua Achebe's Early Anti-Imperialism in the Court of Postcolonial Theory)
5, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hopes\_and\_Impediments (Hopes and Impediments - Wikipedia)
6, https://www.researchgate.net/publication/337012366\_A\_CRITICAL\_REVIEW\_OF\_ACHEBE'S\_HOPES\_AND\_IMPEDIMENTS ((PDF) A CRITICAL REVIEW OF ACHEBE'S HOPES AND IMPEDIMENTS - ResearchGate)
7, https://web.cocc.edu/cagatucci/classes/hum211/achebe2.htm (Chinua Achebe: In His Own Words - Central Oregon Community College)
8, https://www.numberanalytics.com/blog/postcolonialism-in-african-literature (Unpacking Postcolonialism in African Lit)
9, https://journals.openedition.org/ces/11423 (Chinua Achebe's Early Anti-Imperialism in the Court of Postcolonial Theory)
10, https://www.numberanalytics.com/blog/postcolonialism-in-african-literature (Unpacking Postcolonialism in African Lit)
11, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinua\_Achebe (Chinua Achebe - Wikipedia)
12, https://web.cocc.edu/cagatucci/classes/hum211/achebe2.htm (Chinua Achebe: In His Own Words - Central Oregon Community College)
13, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinua\_Achebe (Chinua Achebe - Wikipedia)
14, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chinua\_Achebe (Chinua Achebe - Wikipedia)
15, https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/biography/chinua-achebe (Chinua Achebe | EBSCO Research Starters)
16, https://journals.aseiacademic.org/index.php/ijtp/article/download/162/147 (Colonialism in Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart - Association of Social and Educational Innovation (ASEI))
17, https://web.cocc.edu/cagatucci/classes/hum211/achebe2.htm (Chinua Achebe: In His Own Words - Central Oregon Community College)
Is this like borderline colonialism hidden as Aid?
To thank Canada and Canadians on Canada Day for providing aid? I don’t feels very white savior thing.
What are your thoughts?
Here’s the translated text
🇨🇦🇬🇳 When Canada invests in children, lives change.
On this #CanadaDay, UNICEF in #Guinea celebrates a partnership that helps protect children's health through the support of the people and the Government of Canada.
As part of the current campaign, 4,196,502 children are targeted to receive vitamin A supplementation. To date, the coverage rate has reached 87.4%, or 3,667,743 children already protected.
Vitamin A strengthens immunity, reduces the risk of complications related to certain diseases and contributes to the survival of children.
Thank you to the Government of Canada for its lasting commitment to the children of Guinea. 💙
UNICEF Canada
The British Feared This 16-Year-Old Tribal Girl 😳#forgottenheroes #briti...
youtube.comIn the 1640's the Dutch inhabitants of New Amsterdam built a 12' wall to keep the bad hombres out. In 1664 the British ignored the wall and took New Amsterdam by sea. It's now called New York, They took down the wall and built a street, It's called Wall Street
The British Empire’s Downfall: From India to Palestine | William Dalrymple
youtube.comTerritorial expansion of Russia, 1300-1991. Modern day Russia retains about 75% of the territory it had at its greatest extent as the Russian Empire
Happy Dominion Day! On this date in 1867, Canada was formed as a self-governing dominion. While the holiday was officially renamed to Canada Day in 1982, July 1st remains a major day for national celebrations across Canada.
Origin of Wall Street: In 1653, Africans built a wall along the northern edge of New Amsterdam to protect the Dutch community from the English. It stretched from the Hudson River clear across the island to the East River.
A gang of black men labored as long as daylight allowed, digging a three-foot-deep trench from the East River all the way across Manhattan Island to the Hudson River. The trench followed a rough path that ran along the north edge of the village. It was March 1653, and Governor Stuyvesant had been sent orders to fortify New Amsterdam. English warships were gathering in Boston Harbor, readying to sail south and take the Dutch colony.
The men digging the trench had names such as Paulo d’Angola, Simon Congo, and Anthony Portuguese. As their names showed, many were Africans who had worked aboard Spanish or Portuguese ships before the Dutch seized them. These Africans were owned by the Dutch West India Company, but some had gained a form of half-freedom. They worked for themselves, but owed the company labor whenever needed. Half-free or enslaved, they could own property, testify in court, bear arms in emergencies, attend church, and marry. But their children were not free.
When the Africans finished the trench, they formed a wall by standing big logs into it. Each log was 18 inches around and 12 feet long. Then they pounded dirt and stones back into the trench around the base of each log to make the wall strong. They built blockhouses at the ends of the wall, and gates were added where roads ran through it. But as soon as the wall was finished, it was no longer needed. The Netherlands and England had signed a peace treaty. However, the wall built by the Africans gave the rough path that eventually became a street with a new name: Wall Street.
Image: Manhattan in 1660, when it was part of New Amsterdam. North is to the right. Drawn in 1916 by John Wolcott Adams (1874–1925) and Isaac Newton Phelps Stokes (1867–1944). Published before January 1, 1923 in the United States.
In 1639, the Peruvian Jesuit priest Antonio Ruiz de Montoya wrote in his work entitled “Tesoro de la Lengua Guaraní” (Treasury of the Guaraní Language) about a game called Manga ñembosarái, played by the Guaraní people. His description of the game bears a striking resemblance to modern football.
Football was born in Paraguay. It wasn't the English who created football, as dominant European literature claims. It was the Guarani people who invented it. This is the thesis of the short documentary film "Los Guaraníes inventaron el Fútbol (2014)," directed by Paraguayan filmmaker Marcos Ybáñez and based on the research of Spaniard Bartomeu Melià (1932-2019), a specialist in Guarani history. Melià asserts that they were already playing football in the 17th century in the Jesuit settlements of San Ignacio Guazú, in what is now the Misiones Department, 230 km from Asunción. Records of the practice of manga ñembosarái—"playing ball with the feet" in Guarani—date back to 1639, long before Paraguay's secession and independence in 1811 and the British codifying the rules of football in 1848. According to the documentary, manga ñembosarái was the precursor to modern football, and the Guarani people are considered the originators of football. In this sense, Paraguay claims to be the birthplace of football.
The first recorded instance of the game manga ñembosarái is said to be in the “Tesoro de la Lengua Guaraní” (Treasury of the Guaraní Language), a bilingual Guaraní-Spanish dictionary published by the Peruvian Jesuit Antonio Ruiz de Montoya in 1639. There, “mangaì” is defined as “tree that produces the balls called neruio,” a reference to the rubber balls with which the Guaraní people played manga ñembosarái on Sundays after Mass.
Other records of this sport appear in the books Breve relación de las Misiones del Paraguay (Brief Account of the Missions of Paraguay, 1771) and La República de Platón y los Guaraníes (The Republic of Plato and the Guaraní, 1793), written by the Spanish Jesuits José Cardiel and José Manuel Peramás, respectively. These records suggest the practice of this game—very similar to modern soccer—which consisted of two teams passing the ball around without letting it stop.
In manga ñembosarái, there were no time limits or objectives. Matches always ended in a 0-0 draw. The loser was the team that tired first and abandoned the game, something that could last for hours. There were those who bet on which team would win, as well as spectators and simply curious onlookers. The ball was difficult to control, which demanded skill from the players. Made of damp sand, the ball was covered with rubber—resin extracted from the mango tree—and inflated with bamboo until it reached the desired size.
The municipality of San Ignacio Guazú, where the first Jesuit mission in the Río de la Plata Basin was founded in 1609 and where the Guarani indigenous people gathered, claims football as its birthplace and associates it with its cultural history. In 2010, the thesis that football was an invention of the Guarani was published in the Vatican newspaper L’Osservatore Romano, increasing the legitimacy of the Paraguayan claim.
Since then, the topic has been addressed in Argentine, Spanish, and Paraguayan periodicals. However, it is reasonable to think that manga ñembosarái is not the only sport that foreshadowed modern football, but only one among countless others that date back to earlier times. Adopting a global historical perspective—rather than a geographically restricted one, such as nationalist perspectives—seems more appropriate for understanding the evolution of ideas and practices worldwide.
There are other cases that, like the Guarani manga ñembosarái, can also be considered precursors to contemporary football. As an example, I cite ts’uh Kúh (cuju), practiced in China two thousand years before Christ, which consisted of a military training activity very similar to the logic of modern football. Episquiro, played in ancient Greece, was played by two teams of eleven or more players and was characterized by violence. The ball was made of sand with an ox bladder, and the use of hands was permitted, unlike in manga ñembosarái, where it was prohibited.
There was also the pre-Columbian football of the Maya and Mexica peoples in Mesoamerica, practiced more than three thousand years ago, with rubber balls and blood rituals in which the captain of the losing team was sacrificed. I should also mention Harpastum, played during the golden age of the Roman Empire, whose objective was to throw the ball into the opposing team's field. And kemari, played in Japan since the 7th century, in which physical contact was prohibited, given its religious and ceremonial mysticism. Literature indicates that kemari was influenced by the Chinese ts'uh Kúh.
In addition, there is Calcio Fiorentino, played in Florence since the 16th century, a kind of revival of the Roman harpastum. Over time, bulls were introduced into the arena to increase the adrenaline of both players and spectators. The games resembled a combat arena, as punches, kicks, and knife fights were allowed between players, often leading to widespread brawls. Even so, the objective was to score goals.
As early as the 17th century, North American Indians played pasuckuakohowog, matches that could involve up to a thousand players, with communal celebrations at the end. In Australia, the aborigines played marn grook. In Alaska, the Inuit played asqaqtuk, something similar to ice soccer. These and other forms of foot-based games can be considered precursors to modern football.
It is reasonable to conclude that the Guarani manga ñembosarái does not tell the whole story of football. Even so, it is a legitimate precursor to contemporary football—as are the other examples (without intending to exhaust the list)—and a historical legacy of the admirable Guarani culture.
It would be inaccurate to attribute the origin of football to a specific people. If it wasn't the Paraguayans who invented football, neither was it the British. Australians, Chinese, Inuit, Greeks, Italians, Japanese, Mesoamericans, and North Americans, among others, have contributed positively to the construction of this history, of which the Guarani-Paraguayans are also a part. Far from being an exclusively Guarani or British product, football has multiple and endless origins. Paraguay is another piece of this cast.
Article written by Philippe Raposo for Latinoamérica21: Una región, todas las voces.
Bibliography:
.- (1639). Ruiz de Montoya, Antonio. Tesoro de la lengua Guaraní. Madrid, Spain.
Did the US partake in imperialism?
Hello fellow history buffs,
I’m currently researching America’s extraneous territories like American Samoa, Puerto Rico, Hawaii, etc. and how we obtained them. I watched a video about how Hawaii became a state and learned that they used to have a monarchy that was overthrown by the US government. I don’t remember much else, but I think we installed a democratic government after. Many politicians and previous presidents claimed that America isn’t an empire (which is what I thought as well before learning about this), but wasn’t our annexation of Hawaii via military coup a form of imperialism?
I’d like to know more about how America’s history of obtaining territories and if we truly were/are an empire like the British once were.
On an semi-related note, I read a book called “Myth America: Historians Take On The Biggest Legends and Lies About Our Past” by Kevin M. Kruse and learned that Oklahoma, and learned that in 1940 the US’s overseas territories held about 19 million people. Most of these territories weren’t considered parts of the country nor eligible for statehood because they had too many “savages” and “alien races” that couldn’t mix with the mostly white population in the mainland. I suppose that makes sense for the time period, but why don’t we make our current territories like Puerto Rico into states?
Anyway, I’m rambling, but I’d like to hear your thoughts on these questions.
TLDR:
• Was the annexation of Hawaii through military coup imperialism?
• Did the US have an empire and does it have one to this day?
• Why don’t we make our current territories into states?
• Did we acquire our territories peacefully or by force?
• Does the Constitution prohibit imperialism in any way?
Hong Kong 1 cent banknotes printed by Bradbury Wilkinson and Company (1856-1990) in the United Kingdom and were issued by the colonial government between 1961 and 1995.
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