Manchester Historian Issue 35 - Fractured Nations by Manchester Historian

Issue 35 March 2020

Fractured Nations

ISSUE 35 | 2020

Contents

Editor’s Note

The Haitian Revolution 3 Japan’s Comfort Women and Their Legacy

Conceptualising the Troubles

The US Feminist Movement

Vietnam War: a Colonial, Cold, or Civil war?

Art and Nation Building in Mexico

Ethnic Tensions in Yugoslavia

Was the Fall of Saigon Inevitable? 10 Review: The Plantagenets by Dan Jones 11 Early Christian Church Under the Romans 11 Modern Classicists 12 The Life and Legacy of Constance Markievicz The Politics of Native American Land Treaties

Linguistic Nation Building in India Linguistic Decolonisation in Central Asia

The Partition of India and Pakistan

The Origins of the Sunni-Shia Split

Western Society in White Teeth and the Wire

Welcome to Issue 35 of the Manchester Historian. Twenty years ago politicians across the Western World were embracing radical new ideas about human society. ‘I hear people say we need to stop and debate globalisation’, Tony Blair said in his 2005 speech to the Labour Party conference, ‘You might as well debate whether autumn should follow summer’. As the world became more global, were national cultures to die out? A new ideology of multiculturalism promoted the recognition and accommodation of diversity in western democracies. Commentators saw the world becoming increasingly connected, unified, and uniform. Today, 13 years on from a devastating global financial crisis, nationalism and nativism are on the rise. Orbán in Hungary, Erdoğan in Turkey, Netanyahu in Israel, Modi in India, and other leaders across the world are the fruits of and the promoters of a brand of ethno-nationalism that has come to dominate the modern world. Donald Trump’s protectionist rhetoric, British views on the European Union, and the rise of far-right nationalist projects across Europe are examples of this. This is not just a western phenomenon. In Delhi, over the last few days, 38 people have been killed in violent clashes between Hindus and Muslims over the introduction of controversial new citizenship laws which discriminate against Muslims. In the first decades of independence, the Hindu-nationalist BJP was a fringe force in Indian politics. But today, the party has a majority of seats in the lower house of the country’s parliament, and Prime Minister Modi has, in recent days, been accused by judges of inciting violence against Muslims. In an increasingly fractured world, what makes us turn on each other? What motivates nationalist sentiment and national identity? Conversely, what brings us together? How are nations formed out of diverse groups? What happens when different national groups share a state, or when one lives as a minority in the shadow of another? These are some of the questions we hope to address in this issue. On these themes, we examine the phenomenon of Irish nationalism in a profile of Constance Markievicz (page 13), and an article on how we should conceptualise the Troubles in Northern Ireland (page 5). We look at the role of language in national creation and division in India (page 15), and central Asia (page 16). We look at two states which have fractured because of ethnic and religious tensions in articles on the partition of India (page 17), and the breakup of Yugoslavia (page 9). We ask what it takes to create a national culture in an article on the use of art in Mexican national creation after the revolution (page 8). Throughout this issue you will find new and interesting articles on a wide range of history, with a particular focus on fractured nations around the world.

Many thanks to Francesca Young Kaufman University of Manchester History Department University of Manchester Graphics Support Workshop

ISSUE 35 | 2020

The Haitian Revolution

How Hatian slaves disrupted Western politcal thought

The French colony of Saint-Domingue (contemporary Haiti) was heralded as ‘the Pearl of the Antilles’, the slave-driven sugar economy making it the richest of the French colonies and a central component in France’s imperial vision. This was due to the ‘exclusif’, a trade deal that meant Haiti could only trade with France, monopolizing Saint Domingue’s main product, sugar - a highly lucrative import catering to Europe’s fledgling sweet tooth. Haitian society consisted of a small percentage of white elites, the grand blancs, some freedmen who had achieved manumission through interracial relationships, known as mulattoes, and the remaining 90% of the population consisted of chattel slaves, brought to the Caribbean from Africa. In the eyes of the grand blancs, however, this slave population did not represent a distinctive majority, rather than an object of their possession; this proved to be a fatal estimation. In August 1791, a slave leader named Dutty Boukman presided over a secret voodoo ceremony that would precipitate the revolution in Saint-Domingue. In the Bois Caïman jungle in the northern mountains Boukman rallied the crowd to ‘throw away the image of the God of the whites who thirsts for our tears. Listen to the liberty that speaks in all our hearts.’ In the following days, the northern plains of SaintDomingue were in flames, with the slave population baying for the blood of their oppressors, and liberty from France’s colonial grip. Following the destruction of crop plantations and murder of plantation owners, the nascent French National Assembly was forced to respond to the crisis, and attempted to placate the revolution and restore economic stability. As a result of the slave revolt, Saint-Domingue became a highly contested space amongst other colonial powers such as Britain and Spain who hoped to capitalise. The French government’s remedy was the proclaimation of the abolition of slavery, espousing manumission as a continuation of French revolutionary principles, while attempting

A depiction of the ‘Bois Caïman ceremony’

to morally outmanouevre the British and Spanish forces, and reclaim the slave revolt.

However, the French failed to win over the support of Saint Domingue’s key revolutionary leader, Toussaint Louverture, a self-educated former domestic slave, who remained suspicious of France’s sudden support of abolition. Louverture used shrewd Machiavellian acumen to benefit from Spanish and British interest in Saint Domingue, garnering support and supplies to develop a formidable revolutionary army. Proclaiming himself leader of Saint Domingue, Louverture promulgated a groundbreaking constitution grounded in the freedom of all men, for the first time equating political liberty with racial liberty. This enraged Napoleon, prompting further wars between 1801 and 1802. Louverture was eventually captured and died in France. However, the seed of liberty that Louverture had planted was deep-rooted. When it became apparent that the French intended to reinstate slavery, as they had in Guadeloupe, a subsequent revolution erupted led by Jean-Jacques Desaillines against the brutal Vicomte de Rochambeau. A hero of the American Revolution, Rochambeau instigated a genocidal massacre of the newly proclaimed Haitian freedmen, using sulphur-dioxide gas as a means of mass execution for the first time ever. Rochambeau’s brutal actions, in contrast with his international image as an eminent figurehead of liberté and égalité led many French soldiers to question the integrity of their battle. With fatigue and disease devastating the French forces, Napoleon grew restless with his western endeavours and decided to focus on growing continental threats. Acknowledging defeat in Saint-Domingue, Napoleon withdrew his forces and sold Louisiana to the United States. The revolution of 1791 and subsequent developments resulted in the withdrawal of Napoleonic forces from the Americas, and the establishment of a continental America. In 1791 the idea of insurrection led by black slaves against a colonial force such as France was incomprehensible. Colonial figureheads bragged of slaves’ docile nature and obedience. This racially-oriented contention was grounded in European-white supremacy, and an ethnographic belief in the inherently subservient characteristics of African slaves. For white colonialists, the enslaved could not comprehend political concepts like freedom or equality, let alone articulate a political movement grounded in ideas that confront European colonial epistemology. Yet, Louverture was able to present one of the most sophisticated political trea-

Toussaint Louverture, ‘the Gilded African’, artist unknown

tises of its time. Not only did the Haitian revolution affront an established racial order and set the precedent for various future liberation movements and revolts, it also challenged the self-proclaimed liberatory tenets of enlightened modernity; a critique of 18th century Enlightenment values that remains relevant to this day. What is staggering about the Haitian revolution is that it has only gained scholarly attention in the last two decades. As well as economic punishment, with France imposing a 150 million gold franc bill to pay compensation for ex-slaveholders, the revolution has been denied status in historical discourse as a legitimate revolution, as a worthy historical moment. The rebellion was incomprehensible in eminent Western political discourse, so the wider world left reeling by Louverture’s battle was forced to interpret the revolution in palatable terms, thus silencing the agentive Haitian qualities of the revolution. This necessarily Eurocentric comprehension of the revolutionary wars saw French involvement in the conflict as a necessary component of its success – the Haitian people relied on the fertile ideas of the continent to promote their revolution. Because the mode of organisation did not fit neatly into the state-oriented revolutionary projects of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the historiography has largely ignored the complexity and skill with which slaves were able to mobilise under such a brutally pervasive chattel system. Meetings such as the one at Bois Caïman were more frequent than initially assumed, and provided a way for the slave community to reformulate the transatlantic political ideas that flowed into their island. If we move away from an understanding of revolution centered in Western political discourse, we can begin to understand the Haitain revolution as more than merely a slave revolt, but as a sophisticated act of political violence - a revolution - which changed the history of the nation forever.

Wilf Kenning

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Legacy of the Comfort Women

Prostitution is endemic to war. War zones in a wide variety of geographical settings and throughout the course of history all share the fact that prostitution grows relation to the presence of soldiers. There have been many historical studies on this topic spanning the brothels that served the Western Front during World War One, to the pioneering prostitutes of colonial Nairobi who provided domestic wage labour to soldiers with the tacit approval of the imperial administration. However, the correlation between prostitution and conflict in Japan and other areas of the Asia-Pacific during Asia-Pacific War between 1931 and 1945 is unique. Professor Nishio Kanji of Denki Tsushin University contends that Japan was the first and only country in the world to administer and institutionalise prostitution. The Japanese Imperial Army established a system which has now come to be understood as military sexual slavery. It is believed to have been established in order to prevent sexually transmitted diseases and the rape of civilians. Women and girls were abducted from Japanese occupied territories and colonies and employed in comfort stations. These women were taken mainly from Korea, Taiwan, China and the Philippines. The great majority of victims of this system were taken from Korea and around 80% were ethnically Korean.

A memorial to the comfort women in Central Manila

These women experienced extensive hardship during their time in comfort stations. Firstly, they had to undertake screening for venereal disease, these procedures left many in constant pain and infertile. During forced employment they lived in poor conditions and were made to service an average of 30 to 40 soldiers per day. Dali Sil-Kim Gibson’s documentary film Silence Broken features interviews with comfort women in which they discuss their suffering in graphic detail, with one

woman claiming that the soldiers used them like ‘military supplies’. According to a former military doctor, Yuasa Ken, condoms were sold to soldiers which read ‘let’s attack’. This allusion to violence sets a discomforting scene and indicates the casualisation of wartime rape. Historians have estimated that fewer than 30% of comfort women survived the ordeal through to see the end of the war. Despite consistent and repetitive denial from the Japanese Government concerning their involvement in the enslavement of the comfort women, with piecemeal apologies dating as far back as the end of the war, historian Yoshiaki Yoshimi discovered documents in 1992 which provided evidence of Japan’s explicit involvement in managing the comfort stations. These documents were vital in confirming the accusations made against the Japanese military establishment in December 1991 by Kim-Hak Sun and two fellow comfort women. Kim Hak-Sun, alongside her fellow plaintiffs, filed a lawsuit against the Japanese government in the Tokyo District Court. As Mina Chang has noted, the comfort women had clear demands of the Japanese government. The women wished to receive an apology which accepting the government’s role in planning and maintaining sex slavery and demanded that the government provide monetary reparations to the victims as symbolic gesture and acknowledgement of the suffering caused. The case of the comfort women only came to light recently and public debate on the topic is ongoing in both South Korea and Japan. The silence of these women for a prolonged period of time, during which it is thought that the exploitation was common knowledge, and considered shameful, amongst the Korean population, contributed to the two-part suffering the women faced. The shift in public perception that facilitated the comfort women’s confidence to speak out was enabled by the emergence of the Korean democratic movement and the women’s movement. As Chizuko Ueno highlights, these movements shifted the dialogue regarding sexual exploitation from the ‘shame of the victim’ to the ‘crime of the perpetrator.’ In the 1990s, the resolution of the comfort women’s suffering was framed as a national and diplomatic issue. However, it

A bronze statue in front of the Japanese embassy in Seoul

became clear that it would be immensely difficult to attain an apology which would be considered by the victims to be earnest and not a politically motivated tool of propaganda designed to maintain good relations between South Korea and Japan. Both countries accepted a diplomatic compromise in 2015 which was meant to officially shelve the issue. However, Korean President Moon Jae-In expressed concern when he took over from Park Geun-hye in 2017 that this resolution had failed victims by failing to make Japan admit legal responsibility. The diplomatic framing of this issue meant that the apology could not be ‘victimcentred’ but instead was preoccupied with maintaining the fragile and fractured relations between South Korea and Japan. The Japanese government evaded both legal and monetary responsibility. There were some financial reparations, but these were given through private funds in order to circumvent acceptance of guilt by the Japanese. The current Prime Minister of Japan, Shizno Abe, is a vocal denier of the comfort women system and states that it is an issue of ‘international and universal principle’ to keep the 2015 agreement despite ongoing protests against the resolution. The comfort women hold an immensely important position in relations between South Korea and Japan. Due to the stubborn stance of the Japanese government it appears that this open wound in relations between Japan and Korea will remain for the foreseeable future. Meanwhile, the comfort women’s memory will live on through protest movements and those determined to receive a real apology. The latest development in the case was a hearing held in a South Korean court in November 2019 without the attendance of the Japanese government. Lee YongSoo, plaintiff and former comfort woman, responded to Japan’s absence with the defiant statement: ‘I am living proof of history’.

Kerry Scott

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The Semantics of Conflict: What were ‘The Troubles’? On the 14th of August 1969, British troops arrived in Northern Ireland in what would come to be their longest deployment in modern history. Though heralded as the day the Troubles began, the origins of this thirty-year conflict are rooted in the conception of Northern Ireland as a state: a tale of British colonialism, sectarian oppression, and nationalistic pride. Due to its complicated backstory, a fierce debate exists over the semantics of the Troubles: finding a label for such a complicated period has proved difficult. Was it a war of decolonisation? A Civil Rights Movement? A clash of terrorist campaigns? A sectarian feud? A counterinsurgency operation? Each categorisation for the conflict can be legitimately argued, and the reality is that the Troubles cannot be boiled down to any one simple explanation. In order to understand this great period of social upheaval, we must acknowledge that each of these categories provide useful analytical frameworks for analysing the troubles, but on their own, none are sufficient. This article will analyse the justifications for understanding the Troubles as a sectarian feud, a civil rights movement and an insurgency/counterinsurgency campaign.

Northern Ireland’s history of conflict began as early as the 17th Century with the colonisation movement, the Plantation of Ireland, under King James VI/I. This saw the migration of hundreds of Protestants from across Britain, particularly Scotland, to the island of Ireland, with large numbers settling in Ulster. The settlement was an unwelcome development for the largely Catholic population already living in Ireland as it involved the redistribution of land to the new settlers. Between the Plantation of Ireland and the official beginning of the troubles in August 1969, the Protestant community grew in political and economic stature. By 1921 the imbalance

Loyalist banner in Shankill, Belfast, 1970.

in power and economic position between the settlers and the native population had become overwhelmingly clear. The solution was the Partition of Ireland which saw the British and Irish governments dividing the island of Ireland into two states – the Republic in the south and Northern Ireland in the north, the latter of which was absorbed into the United Kingdom. Though the aim was to eradicate the possibility of sectarian conflict, it only exacerbated the problem as the boundaries were drawn deliberately to maintain a Protestant majority in the North. Both the Plantation and Partition of Ireland were therefore two events that exaggerated historical animosities between religious groups and began the long line of events that resulted in the Troubles.

This narrative naturally lends itself to understanding of the Troubles as the conflict of a civil rights movement. The migration of protestant settlers, their economic and social position, and the partition of the island of Ireland resulted in a hierarchical system beneficial to the Protestants in Northern Ireland was born. The Global ’68 took Northern Ireland by storm and saw the Northern Irish Civil Rights Association take to the streets to protest corruption and discriminatory practices against Catholics in employment, housing, voting, criminality and profiling. These protests and the heavy handed response from the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) and subsequently the British Army, are clearly grounds for a civil rights reading of the Troubles. The Provisional Irish Republican Army’s (PIRA) later adoption of the role of protector to the Catholic people further supports this analysis. The readings of the Troubles as a sectarian conflict and as the expression of a civil rights movement are complementary as they both stem from the understanding of the system of oppression suffered by northern Catholics and Republicans. Understanding the Troubles as an insurgency/counterinsurgency campaign stems more from an understanding of the politics of the nationalist movement and requires the historian to legitimise (to some extent) the behaviours of the PIRA, and other paramilitary groups, as political forces. This is because the paramilitary group was closely attached to a political

faction, with the collective end goal of uniting the island of Ireland, thus making them a politically motivated group rather than a terrorist or sectarian organisation. Their goal was to overthrow a foreign imperial power, and restore Ireland to its original people. Understood in this way, the nationalist movement was a political and anti-colonial campaign which went beyond terror, pursuing other strategic policy such as the armalite and using the ballot box. This interpretation validity to the violence used by the PIRA as part of a legitimate, political war forged by the Irish Republicans. This interpretation is further supported by the fact that the British Army’s strategy in the region was heavy in-

British Soldiers on the streets of Derry, 1975.

fluenced by Britain’s colonial campaigns in Palestine, Aden, Kenya and Malaya. In this sense, the Troubles can be seen as simply another British attempt to hold onto past colonial conquests, and the conflict seen as a straight forward insurgency against a colonial force. Altogether, it is clear the Troubles, with all its multiple players, influences and events are difficult to understand through only one limiting lens. As with most divided nations, the Northern Irish Troubles are better understood as the product of a complex and fraught set of circumstances, with a number of key events catalysing conflict. In this sense, the semantics of history hinders rather than progresses the historiography of the Troubles, proving that sometimes categorising history and using simplifying analytical frameworks to understand events obscures the reality, instead of enlightening it.

Emma Bower

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The US Feminist Movement The feminist movement began in the US at the end of the nineteenth century. It has persisted to this day, although the goals and rationalities behind the movement have changed radically since its inception; many factions have emerged with opposing ideas about what must be done to gain gender equality. While generally the movement has been broken down into various ‘waves’, this does not mean there is unity between feminist activists in these time periods.

Betty Friedan, American writer and feminist, 1960.

Another complexity of the movement is the levels of inclusivity within feminism. While the earlier periods of the movement are celebrated for getting women the vote and a place outside of the home, such success had race and class restrictions. These restrictions are highlighted by intersectional feminist groups who believe feminism must be diverse if the systematic problems concerning race, class, sexuality, and disabilities are to be overcomed and allow for all women to be equal, not just with men, but with each other. First Wave (1848 - 1920) The First Wave is generally thought to have started in 1848 at the Seneca Falls convention. Around 200 women met up in New York to discuss “the social, civil, and religious condition and rights of women.” While it was not the only outcome of the convention, there was a general agreement that the right to vote was an important goal to aim for. Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony are the eulogised figures from this period. This is particularly for their work in getting the 19th Amendment passed in 1920, which secured the vote for women. Stanton and Anthony’s feminism generally excluded women of colour, however. This is despite the fact that women of colour such as Sojourner Truth, Maria Stewart, and Frances E.W. Harper were prominent figures in the early part of the Suffragette movement. Women of color

were often barred from Suffragette meetings or marches and were often forced to walk behind white women. This period also saw the origins of the fight for reproductive rights. Margaret Sanger opened the first birth control clinic in the United States in 1916 and would go on to open the clinic which became the basis for Planned Parenthood. Second Wave (1963 - 1980s) Feminist activism in the sixties moved beyond political inequalties between men and women and instead was concerned with overcoming social expectations that made women inferior in society. The commercial success of Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique, released in 1963, gave women, especially those who were white and middle-class, a reason to rally against their socially prescribed place in the household. This spurred many feminist activists to campaign against prevailing ideas about a woman’s ‘purpose’ and the systematic sexism women were being subjected to on a daily basis. This was mostly a middle-class concern however, as most working-class women or women of colour had no choice but to work. While there were many legislative victories in this period, the most notable was the decision of Roe V Wade. The 1973 ruling gave women reproductive control over their bodies. This later period is often remembered for feminism’s ‘radicalism’. While there were certainly small ‘radical’ feminist groups, the general perception of feminists being bitter, man-hating, bra-burners was the result of the conservatism of Reagan’s presidency. There was no mass burning of bras by feminists but the myth remains pervasive. Third Wave Things get a little complicated when we get to the Third Wave of the feminist movement. It is not so easy to pinpoint if this wave even exists nor, if there is a Third Wave, when it begins or ends. An important moment for those who support the Third Wave was the Anita Hill case. In 1991, Anita Hill testified in the Senate against Supreme Court nominee Clarence Thomas, who she accused of sexual harassment. Thomas was admitted to the bench but the case caused a number of women to come forward about their own experiences of sexual harassment in the workplace. It also opened up a discussion about the gender imbalance in positions of power.

The period also saw women reclaim markers of femininity, such as high heels and makeup, which had been rejected in the Second Wave. Retaining femininity led to prominent theorists discussing the ways in which women should be allowed to enjoy things, even if they had sexist or misogynistic origins. This period was diverse and does not have a unified goal or piece of legislation in which to define it. This is why it is difficult to say whether we are still living in this era or are moving on to something new.

Anita Hill speaking in 2014.

Fourth Wave? If the feminist movement is now in its Fourth Wave, it would certainly be defined by the internet and social media. The internet has been used to bring about feminist cultural moments, such as #MeToo and TimesUp, as a tool to discuss feminist ideas, and as a way to organise activist events, such as the Women’s March. The feminist movement is certainly far from its origins but that does not mean that the concerns of ‘former’ waves are no longer relevant. Reproductive rights remain a hot topic as anti-choice activists and conservatives continue to try and reverse Roe V Wade, or restrict it as much as possible. The mirroring of Anita Hill’s case in Christine Blasey Ford’s accusations against Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh in 2018 reminds us that the feminist movement continues to have relevance today.

Kate Jackson

ISSUE 35 | 2020

Analysing the Vietnam War

Should we consider it a colonial, cold, or civil war?

Over a period spanning 30 years of conflict, the Vietnam War caused the death of approximately 3 million people, including Vietnamese soldiers, civilians and foreign military. Historically, the war is perceived as one of the deadliest conflicts of the 20th century; the engagement between the North Vietnamese and the South Vietnamese, supported by American military power, saw new methods of warfare introduced, and had considerable consequences on the Vietnamese people. It is a crucial example of how foreign intervention can result in increased divisions and a considerable extension of a conflict. The American involvement in the war was implicit in the continued divisions and loss of life in the period, and for this reason, the Vietnam War must be considered as an extension of the Cold War tensions that were present in the period. Whilst official American involvement in the war did not begin until 1955, the beginning of the Vietnamese conflict can be seen in the Japanese invasion of Vietnam in September of 1940. This followed a pattern of colonial interventions that were seen across the globe, and specifically allowed for the increased power of the Communist forces within the country, due to the success of the Viet Cong in opposing Japanese presence. This event saw increased tensions between the French and Japanese over Vietnam as a territory, signifying its nature as a colonial prize, with strong economic motives and competition against the Chinese as implicit within its appeal. In this period, colonial motivations were incredibly prevalent, however from 1945 onwards, the establishment of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam by Ho Chi Minh emphasises the effect that Communism had over the politics of the country. From this point, the Vietnam conflict represented a cold war. On the 12thof March 1947, President Truman delivered a speech to the American Congress declaring that the US would intervene overseas to prevent the continued spread of communism. This signified the increasing tensions between the US and the USSR and, more specifically, the increasing tensions between the two ideologies of capitalism and communism. The speech introduced the promise of intervening on behalf of a country threatened by foreign invasion; however, the Vietnam War saw America intervening in domestic issues, and altering the conflict to one which fulfilled American cold war goals.

Vietnamese Army soldiers in the Mekong Delta

Considering this, when active involvement in Vietnam began in 1954, the aim of President Eisenhower in introducing country-wide elections to establish democracy in Vietnam must be viewed in the context of preventing Communist authority in all aspects. This involvement was irrevocably worsened in 1963 with the military coup and the assassination of Ngo Dinh Diem, in which the US was complicit. The coup against Diem’s government, regardless of the unpopularity of the leadership amongst the Vietnamese people and Buddhist groups, tied America into the Vietnamese conflict as major contributors. From this point onwards, the US was inarguably connected to events in Vietnam, and this involvement only increased in the later periods. The Vietnam War saw the deaths of approximately 58,000 US, 1.1 million North Vietnamese, and 250,000 South Vietnamese soldiers. These deaths were the result of numerous battles, the the use of guerrilla warfare tactics, and bombing campaigns such as ‘Operation Rolling Thunder’. This was a culmination of decades of cold war tensions which spanned the globe. However, around half of the overall death toll was taken up by Vietnamese civilians. The ‘My Lai Massacre’ of 1968 saw the slaughter of over 400 unarmed civilians in a Vietnamese village, due to the apparent belief that the civilians were hiding Viet Cong supporters and weapons. The massacre is a representative of the ways in which colonial ideology had permeated individuals, emphasising how concepts of superiority was present in all military decisions that the American army took in this conflict, emphasising the loss of the apparent humanitarian and democratic aims of involvement. Throughout the US, the Vietnam War became a source of considerable tension, emphasised in the numerous protests which took place in the years 1968-1970.

This opposition to the war led Richard Nixon to declare a policy of ‘Vietnamization’ and announce the removal of American soldiers from the conflict, replacing them with Southern Vietnamese citizens. This represented a structured attempt at reducing American casualties and therefore an attempt at pushing a civil war platform in the country. President Nixon’s policy failed, and the South could not uphold against the North Vietnamese military. However, this did not prevent his government from negotiating an unstable peace agreement with the North Vietnamese and removing the American troops from Vietnam. This allowed the NVA to enter the South and capture Saigon in 1975, effectively uniting the country under Communist authority. The conclusion of the war, in many ways reflects the extent to which the conflict was cold war based. Despite the attempts to present it as a civil war, the nature of the South Vietnamese forces was based around an American attempt to prevent the spread of communism in Asia and follow their ‘Domino Theory’ policy. Whilst the conflict began before the Americans intervened in Vietnam, the involvement of foreign forces is inarguably the cause of the millions of deaths that occurred. It was up to the Vietnamese people to reunite their country in the aftermath of such violence, many of the effects of which are still being felt today.

Rebecca Boulton

ISSUE 35 | 2020

1920s Mexican National Identity How the state used art to build a post-revolutionary Mexican nation Following the Mexican Revolution, the newly formed government pursued art as a means of building national identity and establishing a collective narrative about the war. Art is a powerful means of selfexpression, and it was often successful in establishing new senses of national character and history, but it was less able to grapple with the complex issues of gender identity and personal experience. Mexico gained its right to self-governance following the War of Independence in 1821, but the newly independent state struggled with years of political instability: in the 30 years that followed Mexico had over 50 different governments. The end of this period was marked by the ascension of Porfirio Diaz, a Mexican generalturned-politician, in 1877, who served as President for 31 years. His authoritarian ruling style was justified on the basis that it would bring a new era of homogeneity and cohesion. Yet this period, known as ‘Profiriato’, saw the gap between rich and poor grow ever larger. A new generation of educated Mexicans, disgruntled with Diaz’s regime, began to gain influence. 1911 marked the removal of Diaz from power, and the beginning of the Mexican Revolution. Warfare continued even after the signing of the Constitution in 1917. Despite the citizens success in overthrowing the dictatorial Porfiortio Diaz, the new leadership of Mexico remained problematic and ever-changing. It was during this period of instability that the post-revolutionary art movement was born. Jose Vasconcelos, Secretary of State for Public Education for just three years between 1921-1924, was fundamental to the growth of the post-revolutionary art movement. Vasconcelos saw muralism as a form of national education, itself pivotal to the creation of a national identity. He encouraged artists to reflect on what it meant to be Mexican, a member of a ‘mestizo’, or mixed, society. Labelled the ‘cultural caudillo’ of the Mexican Revolution, his intention was to utilise the education system to create a positive and unified Mexican identity. Muralism was viewed by Vasconcoles

and the revolutionary government at the time, as a medium by which the nation’s fractured history could be reconciled. It was a way in which artists tousled with the nation’s numerous cultural influences. Paintings of artists such Fernando Leal showed a recognition of the preColumbian, Indian culture. One painting from 1922, ‘Los Danzantes de Chalma’, reminds viewers of the important fusion between Catholicism and Indian culture, something which had previously been ignored by members of ‘Los Tres Grandes’. Robert Montenegro’s impassioned ‘Mayan Women’ (1926) displays Sculptural Figures in bold block colours and draws on Montenegro’s experiences in France and Spain.

The Trench, by Jose Clemente Orzoco

Vasconcelos’ emphasise on ‘Positivism’ – positive reflections on past trauma – led to the encouragement of depictions of wartime experience. By documenting the triumphs of Mexican soldiers on a huge and very visual scale, the government homogenised the wartime effort. This chimes with the theory of cultural trauma proposed by the Sociologist Jeffrey Alexander, that nationalism is deeply intertwined with wartime success or failure. Remembering those who sacrificed their lives for the sake of the ‘state’ is a process of national unification in which collective grief is channelled into camaraderie. Murals such as Jose Clemente Orzoco’s 1926 ‘The Trench’ emotively show the sacrifice made by soldiers for the Mexican nation. However, not all Mexican artists took this approach, and many struggled to balance the portrayal of personal identity with depicting the political homogeneity of the new nation. Vasconcelos was also supportive of ‘Corridos’ (Folk Songs) as a way of creating a national identity, perhaps something which contributed to the popularisation of the ‘Adelita’ character in songs. ‘Adelita’ was the name given in popular culture to the ‘Soldadera’ (Female Soldier). The

‘Corridos’ were usually love stories that depicted the ‘Soldadera’ falling in love with a revolutionary and eventually becoming involved in the cause herself. Yet, the ‘Corridos’ are produced through the male gaze, and in a highly feminising way. This contrasts with wartime depictions of knife-wielding ‘Soldaderas’ as aggressive as their male counterparts which highlight women’s devotion to revolutionary fervour in times of need. This struggle over the nature of gender ideals was present in the world of Frida Khalo. In Khalo’s 1927 portrait ‘Lad Adelita, Pancho Villa and Frida’, Khalo places herself in the centre of the painting, somewhat passive in comparison to the ‘Soldaderas’ actively mingling with soldiers in the background. Khalo regularly grappled with her Mexican identity through non-state-sponsored art. She re-analysed traditional Mexican symbols, showing them in a new light. For example, Khalo includes Monkeys, traditionally a symbol of lust, to instead show protectiveness and care. Khlao, like many other artists, used her art not to build a homogenous identity, but instead to explore what being ‘Mexican’ really meant. Ultimately, Muralism aimed to look forward. Vasconcelos’ envisioned an optimistic future for Mexico which can be seen in Diego Rivera’s 1922 ‘The Creation’, a state-commissioned piece which intertwines the Mexican state with good fortune through the Christian figures of Love, Peace and Prosperity. Similarly, Rivera’s ‘The History of Mexico’ (1929) is a prolific and impressive mural which traces the nation’s history through conflict and occupation into a bright, prosperous, and socialist future. Vasconcelos’ sponsoring of muralism did help to create a national identity. Murals such as those created by Los Tres Grandes remain epic visual prompts to the unity of the Mexican people and help to define national history and character. But although the movement was important, it could not fully capture highly private and contested experiences – such the role and experience of women in the war – into public consciousness.

Natasha Parsons

ISSUE 35 | 2020

Ethnic Relations Under Tito

How Tito’s rule affected ethnic tensions in Yugoslavia

Josip Broz Tito’s efforts to unify Yugoslavia were instrumental in prolonging the life of the state. After his death, Yugoslavia changed dramatically. His personality and policies were vital in creating uniting and generating a sense of community between the nations that made up the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. In public, the leader was celebrated and glorified, and seen as a fatherly figure in a time of crisis and political confusion. During Tito’s lifetime, his regime and policies enjoyed high levels of support. However the system he left behind was unstable and ineffective at preserving unity in the long term. His time in power demonstrates how economic factors and individual leadership can be vital in preserving or eroding the social fabric of a population. Following World War II, the start of Tito’s time in power was marked by the introduction of a new socialist program

Girl kisses Tito, 1972.

and complex federal government system designed to ensure unity between different ethnicities. This proved effective: ethnic groups lived in peaceful coexistence throughout Tito’s lifetime. Titoism, Yugoslavia’s unique development model, was arguably what held the country together. His reputation rests upon the ‘golden years’ of 1956-1964 during which the bulk of his program was implemented and rates of economic growth and development rivalled the rapidly industrialising Japan. This rapid development promoted feelings of success and progression which generated ties of unity between nations and reduced ethnic tensions through economic integration. Tito’s public reputation and image was nationally and internationally reinforced by the state media. The personality cult surrounding Tito, or ‘comrade Tito’ as exercise books referred

to him, presented him as a folk-law hero of the Yugoslav cause. His personality cult permitted him to respond to socialist expectations of being ‘one of the people’ whilst maintaining a lavish lifestyle of riches, women, and cars. He represented the idea that hard work can pay off, given his seemingly normal Croatian farm upbringing. His popularity throughout the various republics can be seen in his election figures, winning 568 seats to 1 in the 1945 parliamentary elections.

His personality cult is also present in present-day nostalgia. In 2008, a 33-yearold Slovene told New York Times that: ‘neighbours baked each other cakes, we had a leader we trusted. I remember my mother crying when Tito died.’ Tito was a romanticised character for youth of all Yugoslavia’s ethnic groups, a point of unity between them. With a Croat father and Slovenian mother, he had a relatable and intriguing public profile, driving rolls Royce’s, smoking cigars and having various love affairs. Tito championed himself on improving ethnic relations with his ‘Brotherhood and Unity Act 1963’; national and ethnic symbols were quickly replaced with this slogan. The efficacy of this can be seen in the rise of inter-ethnic marriages as well dramatic increases in the number of people who identified as Yugoslavian between 1970 and 1980. But Tito’s attempts to hold the country together were undermined by widening regional inequalities. The ‘Federal Development Fund’ and ‘Blood Transfusion’ economic policies attempted to address this. But redistribution of wealth across Yugoslavia’s federation generated resentment among the more developed nations like Serbia and Croatia. In Tito’s Yugoslavia these ethnic tensions were kept below the surface manifesting themselves in contradictory ways, progressively intensifying after his death. Tito’s significance in unifying Yugoslavia is illustrated in the rapid disintegration of the nation after his death. All the work and reforms put in place fell apart with the disappearance of the federation. His heroic public image started to unravel as the inefficiencies of his reforms became more apparent. Titoism’s hybrid market socialist approach, and the use of ‘workers self management plans’, created an economic system that was fragile and precarious, and tricky to balance the needs of the different republics. After his death constituent republics replaced communist ideology with extreme nationalism. The 1974 constitution raised troubling questions about the future of federal Yugoslavia. Serbia in particular viewed it as the root

‘Long live Tito’ Graffiti in Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina

of many problems. In particular, they rejected the limits placed on Serbian control over Kosovo. The dissolution of Yugoslavia was due to Tito’s policies lacking sustainability in the long term: there was no leader capable of continuing them. Tito was praised for pursuing good relations with the West, particularly with individuals like Margaret Thatcher. He was the founder of the non-aligned club and was globally applauded for his rejection of Stalin. But this brought heavy reliance on western trade and aid. The abrupt decline of Western aid that came with the economic crisis facing the west in the 1970s had a crippling impact on Yugoslavia’s economy. The scale of the ‘addict economy’ is illustrated in Yugoslavia’s trade figures: 45% of its exports went to Western Europe and 50% of its imports came from western Europe. The American share to the republic totalled $2.5 billion annually by the time of the collapse, stunting long-term growth and development. In the short term, aid and high interest loans allowed the maintenance of artificially high wages and prices and improving social conditions, but in the long term Tito’s Yugoslavia was an economic illusion based on shaky foundations and sustained by his image, charisma and ‘quick fix’ policies. Most of the former republics and provinces have acceded to the European Union or are in the process of joining. Ironically, here they will all be reunited in a loose federation with a single market, common currency, and freedom of movement. Perhaps this federation will prove more unifying than Tito’s.

Grace Swiatek

ISSUE 35 | 2020

The Inevitable Fall of Saigon? Despite American rhetoric, an independent South Vietnam was never a viable nation In 1975, on the 30th of April, Saigon, the capital of South Vietnam, was captured by the People’s Army of Vietnam and the Vietcong. This became known as the fall of Saigon, and it marked the end of the Vietnam war. Vietnam was reunited under communist rule and reborn as the Socialist Republic of Vietnam. This was the outcome, yet the debate remains: was the fall of Saigon an inevitability? Was there any chance that South Vietnam could have been an independent viable nation free from communist rule? The article argues no. The idea that South Vietnam could ever become an independent nation was nothing more than an American pipe dream. It was part of a desperate bid to roll back communism and recover as many nations as possible for the Western capitalist system. Communism, as the was always destined to consume Vietnam. Thus, the fall of Saigon was always inevitable. The South Vietnamese government, under both President Ngo Dinh Diem, who was removed in a 1963 coup, and the military groups that preceded him, were corrupt, undemocratic and fraction-ridden. As a result, the government was unpopular, and proved incapable of rallying its people and the armed forces. As a result, many of the ordinary Vietnamese people began to support the Vietcong. The alienation of the South Vietnamese people is clear when looking at the army. Even before the arrival of American troops in 1965 the south’s army was large enough that it should have been able to deal with the communist forces by themselves. Furthermore, the South was better supplied then the Vietcong. They had access to vastly superior firepower and possessed an enormous advantage in terms of mobility as they had access to transport planes and helicopters. However, they were unable to crush the Vietcong due to their weak will to fight for an independent South Vietnam. The reluctance of the South to fight was ultimately a major reason why the fall of Saigon was inevitable, and it destroyed any chance of independence for South Vietnam.

South Vietnamese began to favour communism. The heavy-handed military tactics of America alienated many of them. The Americans, in a desperate bid to stop the spread of communism, used extreme measures such as chemical weapons. Napalm and Agent Orange were used to clear the foliage in the jungle where the Vietcong hid. Many of the South Vietnamese became unintended victims of the chemicals and suffered horrific injuries. Later the chemicals became linked to cancer, birth defects, and severe psychological and neurological problems. The Americans also tried to bomb strategic targets in North Vietnam to cut off the supply of troops and weapons to the South. However, bombs often missed targets and hit schools and hospitals. Such tactics only increased South Vietnamese peasants’ support for the Vietcong. They, unlike the Americans, had won the ‘hearts and minds’ of the South Vietnamese peasants,many of whom desired the land, wealth, and increased freedom promised to them by the Vietcong. By unintentionally pushing the South Vietnamese peasants towards communism, American tactics helped make the fall of Saigon an inevitability. They also shattered any possibility that the south may have become a viable independent nation as many South Vietnamese appeared to desire unification with the north. It is apparent that many of the South Vietnamese peasants supported the Vietcong. America, however, was the fly in the ointment preventing the reunification of Vietnam, until their withdrawal in 1973. Many

The corrupt and unpopular government was not the only reason that many of the

argue that the Tet offensive of 1965, where the Vietcong captured 75 percent of main towns in South Vietnam, was a major turning point in the war. The Americans finally understood just how relentless the Vietcong were and realised that they could not defeat them. Soon after Richard Nixon introduced the policy of Vietnamisation, which saw south Vietnam take greater responsibility for the war while America planned to withdraw. Without American support, the idea of an independent South Vietnam became impossible and the fall of Saigon inevitable. In 1975 the North began its advance South. The South Vietnamese Army rapidly began to collapse, despite the CIA and U.S. Army Intelligence predicting that South Vietnam could hold out until at least 1976. Perhaps this can be seen as another sign of the south’s unwillingness to fight for independence and could even be interpreted as support for communism. Saigon inevitably fell and North and South Vietnam were reunified under a unitary socialist government. Thus, the idea that South Vietnam could ever become an independent, viable nation was lost. As Saigon’s fall was inevitable it was impossible for South Vietnam to ever be an independent nation. Many of the south Vietnamese people supported the Vietcong as they had had been alienated by their corrupt government and brutal American tactics. Therefore, when America withdrew there was no one left willing to fight for an independent South Vietnam, causing the inevitable fall of Saigon and the birth of the socialist republic of Vietnam.

Charlotte Roscoe

Vietcong fighters cross a river, 1966

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ISSUE 35 | 2020

The Plantagenets: The Kings Who Made England by Dan Jones

This book is magnificent right from the offset. Jones begins by pointing out that the Plantagenets were never the ‘Plantagenets’ at all; as with most historical epochs, the name was applied with hindsight. In Jones’ beautifully woven narrative, the only figure who would identify themselves as a Plantagenet would be ‘Father of the Dynasty’, Geoffrey Count of Anjou, who never so much as set foot on English soil. The book traces the descendants of the only self-recognising Plantagenet and Empress Matilda, daughter of Henry I of England. Jones explains how the dynasty was founded upon Matilda’s determination for her descendants to be able to claim their inheritance: the English throne. From the text we also learn that Henry II – the first Plantagenet king – was crowned in 1154, three years after the death of his father. In ‘The Plantagenets...’, Dan Jones manages to encapsulate the dynasty from Kings Henry II to Richard II in astonishing detail. The book may be heavy on pag-

es for popular history, but it is not heavy to read. Jones manages to impart facts and tales of heroic and villainous rulers gone by, and he does so in such incredible detail. Jones is a storyteller and the way that he describes the lives and deaths of the Plantagenets is riveting. Woven throughout the narrative is the metaphor of the ‘wheel of fortune’, which Jones returns to regularly. The wheel of fortune is turning from the offset, with the stories of those affected by the tumultuous reign of the Plantagenet dynasty incorporated into Jones’ narrative in such a way as to be almost as easily readable as a work of historical fiction.

Jones succinctly summarises the plethora of historical narratives from the entirety of the Plantagenet dynasty. He includes events such as the foundation of the British Union, the creation and successive reissues of Magna Carta, the various crusades to the holy land, and a constant battle with the king of France for the Plantagenet territories on the continent. Jones’ narrative ends with the deposition of Richard II by his first cousin and childhood friend Henry IV in 1399. The decision to stop there is interesting, as this point in history marks the foundation of the House of Lancaster and the commencement of the political upheaval which would later become the war of the roses. This cessation of the plot is also logical in that Jones’ third book offering ‘The Hollow Crown’, picks up where this one ends.

Rebecca Selby

Cast of the tomb effigy of Henry III in Westminster Abbey

Persecution of the Early Christian In response to the Crisis of the Third Century, in which the Roman empire faced a series of financial, military, and political crises, the administration of the empire was gradually reformed to increasingly centralise the power of the emperor(s). This laid bare to the Roman state the presence, throughout the empire, of a religious community whose faith and doctrines ran against everything it meant to be Roman. Religious persecution of the Christian communities had existed ever since the days of Saints Peter and Paul, but prior to 250 CE, this had been on a sporadic, case-by-case basis. The Emperor Nero might have turned Christians into human candles, according to the Roman historian Tacitus, but most evidence for the persecution of Christians suggests that it occurred at the provincial or local level, usually instigated by mobs. This changed in 250 CE with an edict of Emperor Decius which, in requiring all members of the empire (excluding Jews) to sacrifice to the gods, indirectly criminalised all Christians who refused to sacrifice to any polytheistic deities.

while it did lead to the execution of several notable Christians, including Pope Fabian, this state-led persecution is perhaps more notable for its scale (the whole empire) rather than the degree of persecution. Christians could be found across all social classes and several Christians achieved prominence and high status in Roman society. In the eastern half of the empire, particularly Syria, Egypt, and Palestine, Christians even participated in government. This suggests that most Christians were still able to live within the empire peacefully. More severe persecution began in 303 CE under Emperors Diocletian, Maximian, Galerius, and Constantius. It is known as the Diocletian Persecution, or the Great Persecution. The first edict of the persecution forbade Christians from assembling to worship and confiscated Christian scriptures. Subsequent edicts called for the arrest of bishops and priests, offered clemency in return for publicly sacrificing to the gods, and called for mass public sacrifices of entire urban communities to target the Christians living within these communities.

This edict only lasted 18 months and,

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This level of persecution was not sustainable, especially as by some estimates Christians made up roughly 10% of the empire’s population by the end of the third century. Emperor Galerius ended the persecution in the eastern half of the empire in 311 CE, and in 313 CE the Edict of Milan was issued by the Emperors Constantine and Licinius, legalising all religions within the empire, including Christianity. Constantine would go on to become the first Christian emperor, and while Christianity would not become the state religion of the empire until the Edict of Thessalonica in 380 CE, the Church immensely benefited from the largesse that came with being the favoured religion of an emperor. Church properties were restored, and in 325 CE Constantine organised the first ecumenical (universal) church council, the Council of Nicaea. This was how Christianity moved from being a subversive sect of Judaism to becoming a distinctly Roman religion.

Daniel Johnson

ISSUE 35 | 2020

Modern Classicists

To those within the academic sphere, it seems that classical mythology has seen a dramatic rise in popularity amongst the general public, and has never been more influential. Present in almost every form of media, from instagram accounts to video games, we are constantly surrounded by references to the ancient world. But what, if anything, has sparked this renaissance for our stone and marble ancestors, and how has the study of classical civilisation been brought to the attention of those outside the academic realm? There has always been an intense interest in ancient history. This enthusiasm is perfectly understandable; humans have always looked to our past for guidance and inspiration, and what better period of history to study than where recorded history began. To study the classics is almost synonymous with a good upbringing, a tradition started in antiquity itself, when Roman schoolboys would recite verses of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Over time we have developed as a society, as the volume of information and ways to impart information have grown enormously. It would seem almost natural that the ancient world would take a backseat, having reached no further than the dusty cupboards of school classrooms. The team behind Overly Sarcastic Productions, a Youtube channel with 1.1 million subscribers that summarises literature, history, and philosophy, would agree. In an interview with them, they said that “we've long felt that, in academic settings, literature and history can often be presented in the driest and least engaging way possible”, that almost feels

Circe by Madeline Miller

“like an obligation” to those who have to teach it. It seems that only a short while ago, the world of classics and mythology was in dire need of revitalisation.

Greece and Rome have always been presented as a natural gateway into ancient mythology, which due to their remote nature, are far enough for us to take an interest in, but also not know too much about. This is how the works of Robert Graves and Mary Renault came to gain a cult following in the 20th century for their work on Greek mythology. This, as well as the movies of the century (and personal childhood favourites), Clash of The Titans (1981) and Hercules (1997), allowed the Greek and Roman myths to slowly trickle into the mainstream. Memorably, one such milestone for classicists today is the video game franchise Assassin's Creed, especially their Origins and Odyssey games. Their huge success was a clear message to all: the people want more. However, Overly Sarcastic Productions told me that they believe “people are after good storytelling, and if it so happens to be a historical story, then that's great”; suggesting that the topic takes a backseat to the individual and their stories, becoming famous for their captivating way of narrating. Madeline Miller, writer of The Song of Achilles (2011) and Circe (2018), the former winning the Orange Prize for Fiction (now Women’s Prize for Fiction), describes her fascination with the classics starting at a young age, believing their tales to be an allegory for ordinary life, regardless of how fantastical the stories may be. It seems clear that ancient Greek mythology is the ideal niche for a world of interest and popularity, due to their fantastical stories and very real messages. The combination of a world so distant to the 21st century, along with touchingly bittersweet and inspiring morality-based myths, calls to us as a way to make sense of our world; fraught with heavy choices and dangerous politics. In this regard, it seems almost baffling as to why we abandoned the classics for so long. The problem, some may argue, lies within the presentation of history and classics at school, yet we cannot expect the education system to entertain us as much as a two hour movie. School is primarily a place to provide the fundamentals, while students can be expected to do extra-curricular research at home. Luckily, students are able to ‘cheat the system’ and find a plethora of studying resources that are not limited to the textbooks and handouts we find in

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our faculties. One such way I have found, surprising though it may be, is through Instagram. One such account, aptly named knock_knock_its_nobody, said that “due to the increasing use of ancient culture in modern media…I think there is definitely more of an audience for Classics pages such as my own.” Their use of mythology mixed with modern humour has garnered them much popularity, with similar accounts having as many as 18,000 followers. Education has moved away from its traditional settings, and we are able to learn

A statue of Homer, author of the Iliad

anywhere, regardless of time and place. Even the British Museum, a place full of ancient artifacts and with a wide collection of historical periods, presented an exhibition on the mythical city of Troy, in an attempt to see how much of the myth is indeed reality. It would not have been too far-fetched an idea to create an exhibition solely based on Homer’s Iliad, though the timing of the exhibition is suggestive of what executives think would be popular. Thanks to modern technology we have moved a long way from school being our only source of information, the magnitude of resources helping us discover worlds we never knew existed, and stories that resonate with our innermost feelings and passions. We are lucky to live in a time that caters to our obsessions in every form of media we could ask for, where learning is a thing to look forward to.

Anne De Reynier

ISSUE 35 | 2020

Constance Markievicz

Constance Markievicz, 1912

Constance Markievicz (1868 – 1927) seems an unusual figure for a revolutionary. Markievicz was born into a privileged, landholding family that owned estates in both Ireland and England. When she first met what would become the influential republican group, the Daughters of Ireland, she came to the meeting in a ball gown and tiara. Existing members were unimpressed, writing that she was a privileged part-timer who could not understand the struggle of the common woman. Yet Markievicz proved herself to be an ardent radical with a clarity of vision and conviction unsurpassed in the Republican movement of the early 20th century. Her talent for self-promotion and propaganda meant she was a highly visible leader of republican thought, and her writing and work shaped Republican politics long after her death. She is still remembered in Ireland as a folk hero and as an instrumental figure in the creation of the nascent Irish Republic. Markievicz’s role in the fight for Irish independence began during a period of increased interest in Irish culture and history among Dublin’s creative elite. Her first encounter with radical politics occurred in 1908 when she attended meetings of both the Daughters of Ireland and Sinn Féin. The Daughters of Ireland played an important part in the development of Irish cultural nationalism. Along with a literary revival, they put on plays that celebrated Irish history, particularly historical Irish women. Such productions being put on by and heavily focussed on women in Irish folklore demonstrates the role that women played in the struggle for a free Ireland, both culturally and politically. Markievicz was a dedicated suffragist. She fought for total equality between men and women in a new Irish state, and argued that the causes of Irish nationalism and universal suffrage should be brought

together, often clashing with those that sought to minimise one or the other. The uncompromising nature of Markievicz’s political aims led to fractures within the movement, with the rise of the more moderate Irish Women’s Franchise League which sought to gain the political franchise within the UK. Markiewicz argued that this was a betrayal of the Republican cause. Her hardline stance caused a split in the Daughters of Ireland, highlighting her disruptive impact on the movement for Irish cultural nationalism. While Markievicz clashed with much of the nationalist movement on the relationship between Republicanism and Suffrage, she also fought against the Republican movement’s gender inequalities that existed, in part, due to its close relationship with the Catholic church. After the split in the Daughters of Ireland in 1909, she founded the influential Fianna Eireann, a youth organisation that aimed to educate and organise the younger male generation so as to create the basis for an Irish military. But Markievicz’s involvement was opposed by many of the more conservative elements of the Republican movement, mostly rooted in the Catholic church. Despite this opposition, Markievicz’s teachings dramatically shaped the young nationalist movement. Her progressive ideals would later go on to form a core part of the IRA’s philosophy and many of its early members passed through the Fianna Eireann.

position in the paramilitary group. When the rising was defeated, she was arrested and only spared execution because of her gender. One of the few figureheads of the movement to survive, she came to be seen as embodying the nationalist struggle. But perhaps more important than her involvement in nationalist organisations was Markievicz’s role as a source of inspiration for Irish women. Her position as a figurehead for women in politics, although harder to assess, is perhaps the most enduring aspect of her legacy throughout the 20th century. She was the first female MP to be elected to the House of Parliament in 1918, and one of the first women to be a cabinet minister in 1919. Markievicz’s enduring influence on Irish Republicanism is clear when one looks at the diversity of political parties that lay claim to her legacy. Sinn Fein, Irish Labour and Fianna Fail all led a joint demonstration on the anniversary of her death. The co-opting of her image is particularly noticeable by the more conservative party Fianna Fail, where her radical politics and connection to the militancy of Sinn Fein and the IRA are ignored and undermined, as seen in the erection of commemorative statues that downplay her militant role. Markievicz was a hugely influential figure in the fight for independence, not just due to her actions and accomplishments but because of her role as a trailblazing female politician and revolutionary. A true revolutionary in every sense of the word, her role in Irish independence was just as material as it was symbolic. Her successes with the Daughters of Ireland and Fianna Eireann are just as important as her ability to inspire Irish men and women through her unyielding commitment to her beliefs, and her prominent role in the struggle for an independent Ireland.

Joe Hurdman

Sculpture of Markievicz and her cocker spaniel

Markiewicz’s role was not just of a teacher and ideologue. She was actively involved in the 1916 Easter Rising as part of the Irish Citizens Army, in active combat as well as in an organisational role. She was one of very few women to hold a senior

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ISSUE 35 | 2020

‘A Trail of Broken Promises’

The Politics of Land and American Expansionism

“They made us many promises, more than I can remember. But they kept but one. They promised to take our land and they took it”– attributed to Red Cloud. The history of relations between the United States and the indigenous nations of America is a long and violent one. In their quest to fulfil America’s ‘manifest destiny’, Euro-Christians were determined to spread their influence from sea to sea of the “New World”. The brutally violent policies enacted against the indigenous nations are evident in the ever-changing series of land treaties signed between the newly-formed USA and the indigenous nations. But the United States’ repeated failure to respect these treaties made them worthless: they were eventually referred to as “bad paper”. Unlike the settlers, the indigenous nations had little understanding of the concept of individual ownership, a concept that was incompatible with ‘mother earth’, and did not realise that signing these treaties meant the acquisition of their ancestral homeland. The legal framework for land seizures and treaties between white settlers and the indigenous nations was established in 1823 when the Supreme Court ruled that the Native peoples’ right of occupancy was subordinate to the United States’ divine right of discovery. The 1830 Indian Removal Act, the heart of Andrew Jackson’s political agenda, initiated a removal process that threatened the survival of the indigenous peoples by driving them off their ancestral homeland. The controversial Indian Removal Act of 1830 continued this trend and divided the country. This process accelerated from 1849 when the California Gold Rush triggered a mass migration of Europeans westward, resulting in violent clashes between indigenous peoples and the new arrivals. Two years later, the 1851 Treaty of Fort Laramie was signed between the United States and the Sioux nation. Other Northern Great Plains nations were also signatories. The treaty was designed to reduce the warfare between the tribes and the US, and while it did not establish a reservation in full, it was the first step in

the process of defining and confining the territory in which the Sioux were allowed to live and hunt. With the subjugation of indigenous peoples proving harder than initially assumed, the US, for the first time in its history, sought a peace deal with some of the indigenous nations. This agreement, known as the Second Treaty of Fort Laramie, signed in 1868, led to the establishment of the Great Sioux Reservation, which included the Black Hills of Dakota, which were to be left for the “absolute and undisturbed use and occupation of the Indians [...] No white person or persons shall be permitted to settle upon or occupy any portion of the Indian territory”. This was the beginning of the process of forcing these nations into small, confined patches of land, a completely foreign way of living for them. However, this treaty was broken in 1874 when General George Custer illegally trespassed on the Lakota territory in pursuit of gold. This violation of the Second Fort Laramie Treaty led to the mass migration of settlers into the Sioux Reservation, and in 1875 the US demanded the indigenous nations sell the sacred Black Hills to white settlers. The refusal of the indigenous peoples was used by the US as a justification for the declaration of war. The army initiated a mass invasion of the reservation, with generals recognising that only the annihilation of the native peoples would secure for the US the Black Hills. The victory of the Sioux nation at the Battle of Little Bighorn led to furious US retribution; the army unleashed total war and withheld rations in a bid to coerce the indigenous peoples to sell the Black Hills. Despite rife starvation, the Sioux refused to sign the agreement and, unable to gain the legal consent required, the US violently seized the Black Hills in blatant violation of the 1868 Treaty of Fort Laramie. In the twenty years that followed, the US approach to the indigenous nations shifted. The government attempted to generate an ideological shift in Native American attitudes towards land ownership. In 1886, John Oberly, the US Commissioner of Indian Affairs wrote: ‘The Indian must be imbued with the exalting egotism of American civilisation so that he will say “I” instead of “we” and “this is mine” instead of “this is ours”’. By labelling the indigenous nations as

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‘uncivilized’ and ‘savages’, the EuroChristians justified their genocidal war against them. To leave the land to the native peoples would be to leave the country in a “wilderness”. Through this ideological shift, the Europeans vindicated the possession of the land, arguing that no one was being dispossessed and that the indigenous peoples were in fact barriers to European prosperity and civilisation. This discourse led to the 1887 General Allotment Act, which granted Congress permission to divide the communal land of the Sioux Reservation into private, individual property. In 1889 Congress passed an act to divide the Reservation into five separate and smaller reservations. This Act allowed the public purchasing of sacred lands and burial sites. With the decimation of the buffalo population and the withholding of rations, by 1890 the Lakota people were almost entirely dependent on the US government in order to survive. US control over indigenous peoples was cemented in 1903 when the US Supreme Court granted Congress the unlimited authority to unilaterally break Indian treaties. In 1934, President Roosevelt and Congress passed the Indian Reorganization Act (IRA), which was an imprudent attempt to politically and socially ‘fix’ the indigenous nations that had been broken through decades of forced settlement and violence. Despite opposition from elders, and in violation of the 1868 Treaty, John Collier and Harold Ickes illegally approved the IRA Oglala Sioux tribal council, with the support of only 1348 tribal members out of around 12,000. After just five decades, two thirds of Native American land, so sacred to their way of life, had been seized. In a quest to ‘civilize’ the Native Americans, the Euro-Christians instead revealed their own barbarity through the blood-thirsty violence that is all too common in Western colonial history.

Nikita Bremner

ISSUE 35 | 2020

Linguistic Nation Building in India

In most European countries there is a standardised tongue, a language for all, that citizens can speak in both social and administrative capacities, which is often taken for granted. However, what happens when cultural and linguistic divides run so deep that a nation cannot identify its own national language?

This is the issue that India has faced for the better part of its existence. Boasting of over 60 different, unique languages, India faces problems that seldom exist elsewhere in the world. A quick Google search will tell you that there are only two languages within India, Hindi and English. Although this statement has some truth behind it, it is a vast over-generalisation that tarnishes a deep history of different cultures moving and settling in India. Hindi and English represent the official languages of India – languages used by the government to carry out official business. Although English is sometimes used, the main administrative language is Hindi with a Dravidian script. However, only 31% of Indians speak Hindi as their native tongue, so why does Hindi dominate the public sphere like it does? To assess these questions, one must look at the different religious and ethnic groups that exist within India. Hinduism is regarded to be at its strongest in the north of India, where it is believed that Indo-Aryan migration took place between 2000 BCE and 1800 BCE. This resulted in the spread of Aryan people to present-day Punjab and Uttar Pradesh. Migration, partly caused by the creation of the war chariot and the desire to move to warmer climates, introduced new races to India. Much research has been conducted on this group of people and results suggest that they are ‘eastern Aryans ‘ - people with a lighter complexion who moved into an area previously inhabited by darker skinned people.

speaking Hindi, there is a bigger push for this language to be the national tongue than any other language.

This train of thought clearly has its flaws, but these ideas are deeply rooted at the core of Hindu nationalism and provide a basis for nationalist leaders such as Nehru, Bose, Malviya to push for Hindi to be the national language. The movement of Indo-Aryans into the area had a profound effect on those who were already living there. Those that spoke with a Dravidian based language were suddenly on the move towards the south, marginalised culturally and physically. It is no secret that India has struggled and continues to struggle with the divide of the north and the south, culturally, economically and politically. The movement of these groups in India speaks volumes of the origins of these problems. How can a country with thousands of years of in-fighting possibly come together under one common tongue? How is it possible to communicate when there isn’t a medium upon which to do so? There are, of course, other factors that have led to language divides. Being the deeply religious country that India is, throughout her history, Islam, Hinduism, and to a certain extent Christianity, have all played roles in linguistic differences within the nation. The tension between Islam and Hinduism, of course, led to the creation of West and East Pakistan (East Pakistan eventually became what is now Bangladesh), however, in terms of linguistic tensions, religion was at the root of many discussions surrounding language between the 1890s to succession and onwards.

starting a bitter war with both sides being staunch in their views of what should be adopted as the lingua franca. Since Urdu is considered to be the language of Islam, Islamic leaders fought for Islamic rights in areas in the north. This is when Gandhi’s viewpoint comes to the fore. He suggests that a mix of both Urdu and Hindi was the way forward – a language known as Hindustani. However, Hindu leaders were quick to bat this idea away as they thought that Hindustani, in terms of religious ceremonies, was too ‘low brow’ and thus Gandhi’s words fell on deaf ears. In any case, it is clear that language problems in India will not be resolved any time soon. Throughout her history she has struggled with quelling cultural and linguistic tensions in the area. Being such a rich and diverse country, India struggles with satisfying all its groups. For many, Hindi will always be seen by the ill-informed as the language of India, but few will know the issues that come with making this assertion. India poses a unique situation in which a country is clearly struggling with defining its own identity. Although this can be seen in many different Indian issues, the issue of language will always be representative of how fractured the nation is.

Elliot Woolhouse

Named the Hindi-Urdu Controversy, nationalist leaders from both sides fought for linguistic control in north India,

Although the link between a national language and these groups of migrants seems tenuous at first, Hindu nationalist leaders, when mapping their own history, use this link as an attempt to prove that they have been the inhabitants of the land for thousands of years. Therefore, due to the length of time they have been living in the area and with millions of people

A 1910 depiction of Indo-Aryans arriving in India

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ISSUE 35 | 2020

Decolonisation and Language

The politics of Central Asia’s linguistics

In 2017, then-Kazakh president of nearly three decades, Nursultan Nazarbayev, officially announced the beginning of his country’s Latinization journey. By 2025, Nazarbayev hopes that a Latin-based Kazakh alphabet will have transplanted the current Cyrillic-based alphabet as the one used for government, media and education. In making this announcement, Kazakhstan has joined its neighbours Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan on a journey of self-identification in the wake of the Soviet dissolution. The Central Asian steppe was for a long time inhabited by a group of nomadic Turkic, Iranian and Mongolic tribes. These tribes were often hostile to one another and the idea of a unifying intertribal identity was foreign. The 200-or-so years starting at the beginning of the 8th century saw the arrival of Islam, which had a profound effect on the region. The literate began to use the Arabic script, modified to write the various tribal languages, and previouslyseparated tribes began to feel a sense of unity in their newly-found Muslim faith. It has even been argued that the Arabic script is what inspired the Uyghurs of present-day Eastern China in the creation of their script, which they eventually passed to the Mongolians who continued to use it for generations. The new unifying Arabic script wasn’t without its issues, however. The Arabic language is worlds away from the languages of the plateau, and their inventory of letters proved woefully inadequate to accurately represent all the letters of the tribes’ native languages. This made for an awkward, difficult-to-learn script that was only readable by those specially educated in its use, mainly men who had devoted their lives to the study of their religion. 1813 saw the Russian and Persian empires, Central Asia’s neighbouring superpowers, gather in Gulistan in the Caucasus region to the West, to sign the Treaty of Gulistan. This ceded a large part of the Caucasian land to the Russians, including most of what is now the Republic of Azerbaijan. This marked the beginning of Russian influence in the Turkic world. For the next century, Russian sovereignty advanced across the steppe to subsume the territories of today’s Kazakhstan,

Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan.

In 1917, the Bolsheviks took over. The Territory of Central Asia was split between the Kirghiz ASSR, which, confusingly, comprised most of present-day Kazakhstan and none of present-day Kyrgyzstan, and the Turkestan ASSR, which comprised the rest of Central Asia. The Kirghiz ASSR was thought of as a buffer zone between the Orthodox Russians to the North and the Muslim tribespeople to the South. This is a divide that characterized the Soviet Union throughout its life, and had no small part in shaping the identity of the Central Asians. In an effort to modernize the minorities of the new Soviet Union, the Latin script was introduced to write the various ethnic languages of the region. The opinion was that the Arabic script was “backwards”

A street sign in Kazakhstan with Cyrillic script

and “primitive”, while the Latin script was the script of modernity and progress. It was the script that all nations of the world were tending toward. So, for nearly a decade, a Latin-based orthography was taught in the Central Asian ASSR’s to write the Central Asian Turkic languages, as well as the Tajik dialect of Persian. With this script, however, the previously scattered tribes of Central Asia began to write with a relatively accessible and unified orthography. Stalin saw the emergence of a pan-Turkic identity which united the Turkic citizens of Central Asia, who, together, had the power to cause problems for their colonizers. Fearing a rebellion, Stalin imposed a Cyrillic-based script, designed to redirect this newfound unity into a loyalty for Moscow and the Kremlin. By 1940, the Cyrillic script had become the only one used in the Soviet Republics of Central Asia, in Azerbaijan, and even in Mongolia. Although never officially becoming part of the Soviet

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Union, the communist leader of Mongolia at the time, Khorloogiin Choibalsan, outlawed the traditional Mongolian script, along with most other symbols of traditional Mongolian identity, and mandated the use of a Cyrillic-based script, in an attempt to improve relations with Moscow. Tensions to the West, meanwhile, rose as the Turks of Central Asia began to discover their long-lost brotherhood. The Soviet Iranians were separated from their compatriots in Persia, and both fought against the colonizing Russian authorities, which treated them as secondclass citizens in their own land. In 1991, the Soviet Union finally collapsed, and Central Asia was once again free. Now though, they had a national identity they didn’t have before. The Central Asian territories had been divided into the states of Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and Kyrgyzstan, all homes for the titular Turkic nationalities, while the Republic of Tajikistan homed the Iranian Tajiks. Almost immediately, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan in the Caucasus announced their intention to get rid of the Soviet-imposed Cyrillic script and forge a new identity on their own terms. Kazakhstan, being much more closely tied to the Soviet government, and having a higher proportion of ethnic Russians in its territories, filled many of its highest governmental positions with ethnic Russians, who objected to the change, and still do today, claiming discrimination in a country that now treats them as second-class citizens. The fact that Kazakhstan has now begun the Latinization process, and Mongolia is making efforts to reintroduce its ancient native script, leaves Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan as the only Cyrillic holdouts in Central Asia. The governments of the two states have been clear in their opposition to the adoption of a Latin script, but it is clear that the once-ubiquitous Cyrillic script is seen as a reminder of a dark past in Central Asia, and Kazakhstan has dealt a massive blow to the Soviet colonial legacy in the reigon.

Marco Giovanni Farrugia

ISSUE 35 | 2020

The Partition of India

Gandhi, Nehru and the Muslim League: the politics of partition

After the East Indian Company was established, it gradually gained full control over large parts of the Indian subcontinent. Revolts against the imperialist rule reached its peak in 1857, when the Indian sepoys posed a considerable threat to the British rule, however, ultimately failed to attain its goals. Consequently, from 1858 until 1947, the territory became controlled by the British Crown. However, in the first major victory for the global decolonisation movement in the 20th century, India gained independence in 1947. It separated into two autonomous states, and millions of people were displaced in the transition. Partition caused the death of 2 million Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs, 14 million people were forcibly transferred and 75,000 women were raped. Different politicians and political factions played a major role in exaggerating and manipulating people’s fears and anxieties while attempting to pursue their own political ambitions. India is considered one of the most religiously diverse societies in the world. It is the home of four world religions: Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, and Sikhism. It also has the second largest Muslim population and is inhabited by ancient settlements of Zoroastrians, Christians and Jews. This religious diversity decisively shaped Indian politics before Partition, with religious and political forces often interlinked. The philosophies of key figures such as Mahatma Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru and Muhammad Ali Jinnah (leader of the Muslim League) shaped nature of the partition of India and Pakistan in 1947. Gandhi’s philosophy was based around the formation of an anti-colonial movement in order to free India from British rule. As the president of the Indian National Congress (INC), Gandhi’s post-independence vision was for a communitarian-pluralist nation compromising various religious communities. As he says: ‘all religions are almost as dear to me as my Hinduism.’ In terms of politics, he claimed that the state had no role in religious affairs. Gandhi’s ally, the first prime minister of India, and the leader of the INC during Partition was Jawaharlal Nehru. His modern ideas such as western education, universal citizenship individual rights and his vision of a united India was extremely popular. He advocated the separation of the state from religion and promised a prosperous and industrialized India with democracy. The INC was dominated by upper-caste Hindus, and was viewed as primarily a

Dominant religion in each region of the British Indian Empire

Hindu party. In opposition to it, Mohammed Jinnah’s Muslim League expanded at an unprecedented pace in the run up to independence as they fought for the creation of a separate Muslim state. They relied on the two-nation theory which argued that Muslims and Hindus are two separate, distinct nations with separate customs and religious practices. Muslims, they argued, should be able to have their own separate state in the Muslim majority areas of India, in which Islam could be practiced as the dominant religion. This served as the theoretical basis for British agreement to the separation of India and Pakistan in the run up to independence. One of the earliest proponents of a separate Muslim state was Rahmat Ali, who, as independence approached, started lobbying British politicians for the creation of an indepenent Pakistan. He also advocated for the creation of a pan-Islamic, religious state from Pakistan to the Middle East. This often contradictory religious and ethnic philosophy served as a base to the partition. The central question was a political, as opposed to religious one: whether citizenship should be underpinned by a shared religious faith or national identity, or was it a universal right granted by a state to all its inhabitants that ensured equality and freedom for all. These were the central political questions at the heart of the conflict: religious division was merely a ‘false-consciousness’ which

acted as a legitimiser of politically driven conflict. Therefore, it is not religion that formed the basis of the conflict, but rather the politicisation of religious identity. As mutual trust between Hindus and Muslims deteriorated, violence erupted in the Punjab. The province was brutally divided between opposing forces and turned into a bloody battlefield. Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs turned against each other resulting in 8000 deaths. 40,000 Sikhs took refuge in camps. It was said that the violence was mainly spontaneous, however, it possesses some features of an organised genocide. In August 1947 when Pakistan officially came into being, the elites that gained power in both India and Pakistan lacked political vision, and were unprepared for such a seismic change. Te process was chaotic and in some cases violent. Massive population exchanges took place, with 14.5 million people crossing the borders to what they hoped was the relative safety of a religious majority. These events have massively affected the relationship between the two states ever since, and the conflict has never been fully resolved. Since both nations have nuclear weapons, South Asia has undoubtedly become one of the most dangerous places in the world. Today, Kashmir, which holds valuable natural resources to both India and Pakistan, remains divided between their control. This unresolved conflict could yet descend into further bloodshed.

Marton Jasz

Muslim refugees from New Delhi queue for water, 1947

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ISSUE 35 | 2020

The Origins of the Sunni-Shia Split By the 7th century, Islam had emerged as a prominent force in the Middle East. With the former great empires of Byzantium and Sassanid Persia in disarray after a period of long and costly conflict, the Islamic prophet Muhammad was able to unite the tribes of Arabia under a Muslim banner. This was an astonishing achievement by Muhammad. His early followers in the Arabian Peninsula were made up of various tribes and a mix of diverse faiths including Christianity, Judaism and Paganism. The foundations were therefore set for Islamic conquests that would result in the emergence of one of the largest empires in history by c.850. However, this geopolitical rise did not coincide with internal stability for the young religion. This early period of Muslim history would see the rise and fall of several dynasties, countless assassinations of caliphs (Muslim ruler seen as the protectors of Mecca and Medina) and historic battles. The fallout over the choice of Muhammad’s successor would create the Sunni-Shia split that, from the Syrian Civil War to the brutal murders of Shia Muslims by the selfproclaimed Islamic State, has shaped Islamic relations since. When Muhammad died in 632, two factions in the Muslim community emerged, with differing views over his succession. The first faction were the Sunni who felt tribal traditions should be honoured. They believed the most respected elder of the community should be chosen to lead. Conversely, the Shia argued that the leadership should remain in the family of Muhammad, namely with Ali the husband of Muhammad’s daughter, Fatimah. Although the Sunni initially prevailed, political tension continued and three out of the first four caliphs of the first Rashidun caliphate were murdered. Umar, who expanded the caliphate into Byzantine and Sassanid lands at a staggering rate, and Uthman, whose reign was dominated by widespread protests, were two Sunni caliphs to be assassinated. When Ali was finally chosen to be the fourth Rashidun caliph in 656, war broke out and Ali was killed fighting near Kufa, now in modern-day Iraq. War would see the Sunni and Shias permanently split with brutal consequences. In 661 following the death of Ali, the Umayyad dynasty came to power moving their capital city to Damascus that had

been conquered from the Eastern Roman Empire. They were a powerful Sunni family whose rule was rejected by Ali’s son Hussein. According to Vali Nasar, author of The Shia Revival, Hussein ‘stood up to the caliph’s very large army on the battlefield. He and 72 members of his family and companions fought against a very large Arab army of the caliph. They were all massacred.’ Hussein’s severed head was brought back to the Umayyad caliph and this loss is still mourned in the Shia and some parts of the Sunni community. This has become known as the Islamic schism, similar in many aspects to the Christian schism that occurred later in the 11th century between the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Churches. The Umayyad caliphate was the main Islamic power from 661-750, incorporating many pre-existing Byzantine and Sassanid structures. Their reign was characterised by its tolerance of opposing faiths. While Islam was seen as the superior faith, Christians and Jews were able practice and had to pay a small tax known as the jizya. Yet, the Umayyads were overthrown in 750 with surviving family members fleeing to Iberia. They were replaced by the Sunni Abbasid dynasty who employed the help of Shia fighters to help overthrow the Umayyad regime. However, this did not usher a period of peace between the two communities as Shia imams (religious leader/teacher) such as Ja’far al-Sadiq were murdered at the orders of the Sunni Caliph Al-Mansur. Moreover, Shia sources describe how their community went back into hiding and had to practice in secret. Some sources also describe the destruction of Imams’ tombs, mass beheadings of Shia Muslims, and Shias being buried alive in the walls of buildings under construction. Whether these accounts are genuine is unclear but regardless they suggest the existence of a stark divide between the two groups during the Umayyad and Abbasid periods of rule. To conclude, the Sunni-Shia split had bloody beginnings. The force that Muhammad united during his lifetime quickly fell apart during the first Rashidun caliphate. Divisions over whether tribal traditions should be followed by appointing an important elder or whether to keep the successor in Muhammad’s bloodline would ultimately lead to the collapse of the Rashidun caliphate and rise of the Umayyad dynasty following the

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death of Ali’s son Hussein. The Umayyad and Abbasid periods would only see an escalation in these tensions with Shias being targeted by various Sunni caliphs. In the present day, 85% of the world’s Muslim population identify as Sunni

Yavuz Sultan Selim, who defeated Ismail I in 1514

with the Saudi regime, the so-called protectors of Mecca and Medina, being the most powerful leaders of this group. Shia Muslim are largely populated in Iran and form an important minority in other Arab countries such as Pakistan, Lebanon and Syria. To understand contemporary tensions in the Middle East it is important to understand the origins of this divide: this centuries-old conflict still has the potential to start bitter conflicts and bring death and destruction to the Middle East. In this way, the event of choosing Muhammad’s successor was one of the most important events in world history, one that has no doubt shaped the modern world.

Jack Ulyatt

ISSUE 35 | 2020

Fractured Nations in White Teeth and The Wire Zadie Smith has said that the writer’s job is not ‘to tell us how somebody felt about something, it’s to tell us how the world works.’ Her 2000 novel White Teeth takes three cultures and three families and shows us how they experience the world over three generations. Cultures, characters, and plot converge in 1990s London, and among the novel’s main takeaways is its discussion of the British government’s promotion of multiculturalism over the decade. David Simon takes a similar approach in his 2002-2008 television series The Wire, which he describes as ‘a vehicle for making statements about the American city and even the American experiment.’ Simon situates a wide-ranging cast of characters in 2000s Baltimore, and uses their diverse experiences to discuss, among other things, the federal government’s ‘War on Drugs’ and ‘No Child Left Behind’ policies. Two decades after their initial release, what do these texts tell us about how their worlds worked?

Key to the historical significance of both texts is the use of structure: the extraordinary pains which Smith and Simon take to construct (or, reconstruct) a comprehensive view of the world. White Teeth is divided and shaped by its characters, with each being given a section dedicated to their story, including their ancestry, childhood, and relationships. Millat Iqbal, for example, is many things – born in Britain to Bangladeshi parents, yes, but more importantly (to him, anyway), a young man, a mate, and a wannabe gangster. Having carefully detailed a character’s uniqueness, Smith jarringly emphasises the wider world’s inability to comprehend their complexity. Millat may be ‘a hybrid thing,’ but to police officers and schoolteachers he is simply ‘trouble.’ Spaces, too, are complicated by a history which is habitually overlooked; by invoking the histories of London’s high streets, hair salons, and schools, Smith states the enduring influence of Britain’s colonial past.

makes this sentiment explicit (and expletive): ‘There’s games beyond the fucking game.’ Simon suggests that these intricacies, overly concealed, enable the continuity of systemic injustice: the series finale’s montage shows several characters stepping into the shoes of those from similar socio-economic backgrounds who have died, retired, or been promoted.

State multiculturalism and the government-sponsored war on drugs were typically posited as solutions to the fractured state of Britain in the 1990s and the United States in the 2000s. Mindi McMann describes multiculturalism as part of a “rebranding” exercise intended to assuage fears surrounding the end of ‘traditional notions of Britishness,’ while David Bewley-Taylor notes that successive White House administrations used the media to generate a drug scare in order to legitimise military-style crackdown on ‘weak, immoral, or foolish’ addicts, dealers, and suppliers. At best, Smith and Simon render these policies, and other government initiatives, symptomatic of divided societies; at worst, multiculturalism and drug war appear as direct causes of social fragmentation. For Smith, the institutions of 1990s London are blinded by a preoccupation with difference which renders state multiculturalism not only ineffective, but inconsequential. For Simon, to deal with deviance (whether substance abuse, drug trafficking, or low test scores) after the fact, let alone via military-style crackdown, constitutes nothing other than ‘war on the underclass.’ To be sure, many academics in more recent years have reflected on the shortcomings of multiculturalism and drug war (while others continue to extol their benefits). However these cultural artifacts – a prize winning novel and critically acclaimed, long running television series – are evidence against what Paul Gilroy calls ‘systematic exclusion’ in contemporary cultural output. The subversive politics which imbues the social commen-

Similarly, each season of The Wire introduces a new player in the ‘game.’ Much like the characters and spaces inhabited in White Teeth, Simon demonstrates that every street corner, police department, port, school, and newsroom is a game board in its own right. Each site has its own history and its corresponding pawns, castles, and kings, whose gameplay is often at odds with their place in the world at large. Kings in the police department are mere pawns in city government, and celebrated journalists find themselves lost on the streets. Stringer Bell, a drug kingpin (or queen, ‘the go-get-shit-done piece’) who struggles to become a businessman,

tary of White Teeth and The Wire, and the positive initial reception of both texts, marks them as important primary historical sources – not just windows onto their respective worlds, rather functional pieces on the chessboard in their own right. Yet neither White Teeth nor The Wire (nor, indeed, any text) is purely descriptive. The attention to detail and the resulting lack of moral judgement which characterise these texts are strengths. Smith is simultaneously despairing and enamoured of such varied characters as Glenard Oak’s headmaster, a ‘bleeding-heart liberal,’ Hortense Bowden (‘Some people […] have done such a hol’ heap of sinning, it latefor dem to making eyes at Jehova.’), and the Chalfen family, who coin ‘Chalfenism’ after themselves. Likewise, The Wire, though variously hailed as Aristotelean, Shakespearean, and Dickensian, eschews archetypal binaries (good/bad, hero/villain, protagonist/antagonist) and story arcs (revenge, redemption, romance) for realism and investigation. Nevertheless, while the texts’ descriptive façades are uncommonly convincing, they remain just that: façades. Might there be some risks, too, associated with writers promising to tell us how the world works? James Wood, for whom Smith’s realism is ‘hysterical,’ at odds with her optimism and so befuddled by ‘a wanting it both ways,’ and Slavoj Žižek, who worries that Simon’s commitment to realism means that The Wire is not utopian enough, certainly seem to think so. I would argue that Smith and Simon do have it both ways – there is optimism and cynicism to be found in both White Teeth andThe Wire – but they cannot have it all ways. For writers, as for historians, the devil is in the details, or, in having to choose which details to include: What? Where? Who? For every inclusion, an exclusion.

Eleanor Child

Russell “Stringer” Bell, The Wire

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Editors Daniel Johnson Reuben Williamson Head of Design Marton Jasz Design Team Francesca Bradley Georgia Dey Beatriz Da Costa Honrado Rebecca Knight Head of Copy Editing Kate Jackson

Copy Editing team Ayesha Patel India-Rose Channon Savannah Holmes Kristen MacDonald Will Kerrs Head of Online Wilf Kenning Online Team Natasha Tai Amy Dwyer Head of Marketing Polly Pye

Manchester Historian Issue 35 - Fractured Nations

Articles inside

The legacy of the Comfort Women

The Haitian Revolution