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• Dan Amankwah 10 years ago

  This is very insightful. Hey Philip, have you noticed that there is a poodle that follows you around? Just to let you know if you haven't noticed.

  This is very insightful. Hey Philip, have you noticed that there is a poodle that follows you around? Just to let you know if you haven't noticed.

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• Paa 10 years ago

  All those fools, Baidoo, kwarteng, Lungu and Kojo T opening the Can of worms in Nkrumah grave are idiots.

  All those fools, Baidoo, kwarteng, Lungu and Kojo T opening the Can of worms in Nkrumah grave are idiots.

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• Dan Amankwah 10 years ago

  Don't let anyone stop you; just continue in your ignorance.

  Don't let anyone stop you; just continue in your ignorance.

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• Kwamebeba 10 years ago

  We don't care when slavely started but we condemn those who enslaved Africans just to make money and these are your Capitalist masters and they are quilty yesterday, today and tomorrow and should pay the price for their evil ...
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  We don't care when slavely started but we condemn those who enslaved Africans just to make money and these are your Capitalist masters and they are quilty yesterday, today and tomorrow and should pay the price for their evil deeds in an appointed time when Nkrumaism takes over Ghana and Africa. There couldn't have been capitalism as is practised today if there had been no enslavement of Africans. People of your sort were certainly accomplises in the slavely of Africans and continue to be accomplises in the neo-colonialism that is all over Africa at the moment.

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• Osei Kwame 10 years ago

  In your dreams. Nkrumaism is dead.

  In your dreams. Nkrumaism is dead.

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• Kwamebeba 10 years ago

  Your reply has put a smile on my face for I know you are just teasing me since, what you really wanted to say is that, in reality Nkrumaism can never "die" or be forgotten. It is as the rising sun.

  Your reply has put a smile on my face for I know you are just teasing me since, what you really wanted to say is that, in reality Nkrumaism can never "die" or be forgotten. It is as the rising sun.

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• Osei Kwame 10 years ago

  I wasn't, Nkrumaism is dead. And I repeat dead and buried. Dreamers who pursue dead cause.

  I wasn't, Nkrumaism is dead. And I repeat dead and buried. Dreamers who pursue dead cause.

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• francis kwarteng 10 years ago

  By Dr. Kwame Botwe-Asamoah
  ........................................................................................................................................................
  In his address to the assemblage at the All ...
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  By Dr. Kwame Botwe-Asamoah
  ........................................................................................................................................................
  In his address to the assemblage at the All African Peoples Conference in Accra, December 1958, W.E.B. Du Bois said the following: “If Africa unites, it will be because each part, each nation, each tribe gives up a part of the heritage for the good of the whole. That is what union means, that is what Pan-African means.”
  
  In accord with the foregoing perspective of the father of Pan-Africanism, President Kuffour must be highly commended for declaring May 25 an African Union holiday in Ghana. This, in effect, affirms Ghana’s pioneering role in the formation of the Organization of African Unity. Until the overthrow of Nkrumah’s government by the traitors on February 24, 1966, (John Stockwell’s In Search of Enemies: A CIA Story) Ghana was not only the vanguard of continental African unity, but was also the shining star of the entire Black race. Perhaps, a brief summary on how Nkrumah spearheaded the cause of the African Union will dismiss as senseless, the criticisms mounted against this authentic African holiday.
  
  In 1945, Du Bois invited Nkrumah to the membership of the international committee, which drew up the four resolutions on the colonial question for the United Nations; these resolutions became part of the UN’s Charter on the Declaration of Human Rights. Also Kwame Nkrumah and Du Bois authored the two declarations at the fifth Pan-African Congress in Manchester, 1945. These declarations provided the ideological framework and plan of action for the decolonization of the entire African continent. Hence, on the eve of Ghana’s political independence on March 6, 1957, Nkrumah enshrined the Pan-African project with a political will stating that, “the independence of Ghana is meaningless unless it is linked up with the total liberation of Africa.” And indeed, Ghana provided logistical support, financial, material and human resources (including civil service personnel and teachers) to some of the newly independent African states and the liberation movements, from Algeria to South Africa. As the internationally renowned African prolific novelist and political activist Ngugi wa Thiong’o noted, Ghana, between 1958 and 1966 (February 23), became the “Mecca” of Africa for all African people.
  
  To match words with action, Nkrumah summoned the then seven independent African heads of state to a historic meeting that took place in Accra between April 15 and 22, 1958. In addition to resolutions on political, economic and culture, Nkrumah urged the African leaders “to assert our own African personality and to develop according to our own ways of life, our own customs, traditions and cultures.” Kwabena Onyina, for instance, composed a song in commemoration of this historic meeting. In December 1958, an All-African Peoples Conference was also held in Ghana. Diasporan Africans and the would-be leaders of the liberation movements within the continent attended this conference. Then, a series of meetings which took place between 1959 and 1963, amidst ideological differences, eventually culminated in the birth of the Organization of African Unity. Ghana, as the mother of the African Union is unquestionable. Jomo Kenyatta acknowledged this at a public meeting in London, 1959, when he stated that the independence of Ghana marked the end of the European domination of Africa. Certainly, Ghana paved the way for closer relations and cooperation among African nations as well as Africans in the diaspora. And one of the many manifestations of the OAU is today’s African football competition, for which Ghana spearheaded.
  
  In fact, history is replete with leadership roles that Ghanaians have played toward the course of African unity. They include J. E. Casley Hayford and Kobina Sekyi (both of the National Congress of British West Africa), Seth D. Cudjoe, J. C de Graft Johnson, and J. B. Danquah. The rest are Joe Appiah, G. Ashie-Nikoi, Kojo Botsio, Kankam Buadu, Kurankyi Taylor, J. S. Annan, Ako Adjei, Kwame Nkrumah and many others. Even today, wherever there is an African social, cultural or students’ organization in the US, Ghanaians always find themselves in leadership positions. I recall in 1977, when some African residents in New Haven, Connecticut (including some university professors) pleaded with some of us Ghanaians to accept the leadership role of a newly formed African organization.
  
  It is against this backdrop that I question the rationale of the critics of President Kuffour’s historic declaration marking 25th May an African Union holiday in Ghana. Surprisingly, the critics of the holiday closed their eyes to the May Day holiday; and the irony is that the commemoration as regards the hanging of four of the falsely accused overworked industrial workers in the 1886 Chicago's Haymarket incident is not even celebrated by the labor unions in the US. Second, the critics did not use the same argument against the many non-African religious holidays in Ghana.
  
  The arguments advanced by the opponents of the president’s declaration that it impedes productivity and economic activities of the country are inconclusive. In my view, the holidays that have had substantial adverse impact on the economy and productivity, which eluded the critics, is the observance of sacred days of foreign religions in the country. The first of these are Easter holidays which occur on Good Friday and the picnic, the following Monday. This does not take into account the waste of working hours on the travels on the Thursday preceding the Good Friday and Tuesdays after the so-called picnic. Though they are not statutory holidays, public offices and work places (with a few exceptions) on the Thursday and Tuesday just cited, are partially empty of workers.
  
  Perhaps, the most devastating of all the non-African religious holidays in terms of the economy and productivity is the Christian sacred rituals on December 25 and 26 commemorating the birth of Jesus (Greek word for Hebrew Joshua) on December 25. Furthermore, December 24 has become an occasion for different governmental departments and public corporations/institutions to hold Christmas parties. Between December 27 and 31, one would again find some offices and work places of public institutions with partial ghost workers; and, woe unto any person who travels to Ghana to transact some important business or conduct research that week. Next are the two new statutory holidays for observing Islamic sacred rites. The question is, don’t these non-African religious holidays have the greatest adverse effects on Ghana’s economy and productivity as compared to the African Union holiday?
  
  It would have made sense had the critics suggested a reduction in the number of holidays set aside for the rituals of these two foreign religions. For instance, Boxing Day on December 26 in Britain is for the opening of boxes containing gifts for loved ones and friends; whereas in the US, the boxes are opened on the morning of December 25. The next day, December 26, people are back to work in full force and on time. Easter, for instance, is not a statutory national holiday in the US. I know some leading divinity schools in the US, where classes are held on Good Fridays; and, Rev. Dr. Brew Riverson and Rev. Dr. Asante Antwi can bear me out.
  
  The following are my recommendations: First, in addition to discouraging Christmas parties on December 24 at all public facilities by public employees during working hours, the national observance of the Christian rituals should be limited to the Good Friday and the Christmas day, December 25. Second, believers in African religions and their saviors/saints like Okomfo Anokye, Kofi Gyeprem of Akyem Tafo, Krakye Dente of Kete-Krakye and many others should also be given a holiday in the year to observe their sacred days.
  
  My other suggestion to President Kuffour’s government and the parliament is to annul their aggressive obsession about the study of European languages in the public schools, and consider setting up a national commission to develop an African-centered curriculum on African history and culture, from the Nile Valley civilizations to the present. The commission should take into account J. E. Casely-Hayford’s vision of an African university on the African soil. If considered, I would add that the study of African history and culture (including the languages) should be made mandatory for all students from kindergarten to the university. This is because culture is the keystone of socio-economic transformation. Otherwise, the African Union holiday on May 25 would become a cosmetic proclamation.
  
  I salute President Kuffour for his historic declaration!
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• MINOR CASE 10 years ago

  Do not waste your time on these Nkrumahists robotons, they just do not know what century we are in just like their counterparts in North Korea. When they manage to wake up from their stupor all they are wound up to do is to b ...
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  Do not waste your time on these Nkrumahists robotons, they just do not know what century we are in just like their counterparts in North Korea. When they manage to wake up from their stupor all they are wound up to do is to bleat " Nkrumah is our messiah " on and on and on till they drift back into their base line stupor state. Not only are they a nuisance for disturbing our ears , they can be dangerouse to Ghana. Just ignore them.

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• Dan Amankwah 10 years ago

  Repeat it to this ignoramus Nkrumaist.

  Repeat it to this ignoramus Nkrumaist.

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• francis kwarteng 10 years ago

  Capitalism and Slavery
  
  Last week, Columbia University presented the Bancroft Award to two books that directly address the relationship of capitalism, slavery, expansion, and empire: "The Empire of Necessity: Slavery, Freed ...
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  Capitalism and Slavery
  
  Last week, Columbia University presented the Bancroft Award to two books that directly address the relationship of capitalism, slavery, expansion, and empire: "The Empire of Necessity: Slavery, Freedom, and Deception in the New World" and Sven Beckert’s "Empire of Cotton: A Global History."
  
  Both are part of a renewed scholarly attention to capitalism and slavery, carried out by historians such Walter Johnson, Edward Baptist, Calvin Schermerhorn, Bonnie Martin, Kathryn Boodry, Seth Rockman, Ada Ferrer, Adam Rothman, and Caitlin Rosenthal (and keep an eye out for Ned Sublette and Constance Sublette’s forthcoming, "The American Slave Coast: A History of the Slave Breeding Industry").
  
  The argument that capitalism was dependent on slavery is, of course, not new. In 1944, Eric Williams, in Capitalism and Slavery, made the case. In 1968, the historian Lorenzo Greene wrote that slavery “formed the basis of the economic life of New England: about it revolved, and on it depended, most of her other industries.”
  
  Even before the expansion of slave labor in the South and into the West, slavery was already an important source of northern profit, as was the already exploding slave trade in the Caribbean and South America. Banks capitalized the slave trade and insurance companies underwrote it.
  
  Covering slave voyages helped start Rhode Island’s insurance industry, while in Connecticut, some of the first policies written by Aetna were on slave lives. In turn, profits made from loans and insurance policies were plowed into other northern businesses.
  
  Fathers who “made their fortunes outfitting ships for distant voyages” left their money to sons who “built factories, chartered banks, incorporated canal and railroad enterprises, invested in government securities, and speculated in new financial instruments” and donated to build libraries, lecture halls, universities and botanical gardens.
  
  Many of the millions of gallons of rum distilled annually in Massachusetts and Rhode Island were used to obtain slaves, who were then brought to the West Indies and traded for sugar and molasses, boiled to make more rum to be used to acquire more slaves.
  
  Haiti’s plantation’s purchased 63 percent of pickled fish from New England. In Massachusetts alone, David Brion Davis writes, the “West Indian trade employed some ten thousand seaman, to say nothing of the workers who built, outfitted, and supplied the ships.”
  
  Starting in the early 1800s, Southerners in the United States began to defend slavery as their “peculiar institution” and northerners didn’t mind, since the phrase suggested that chattel bondage was quarantined from the rest of the nation, that it was, or soon would be, a relic of its past and would not define its future.
  
  But, for all the variation that distinguished the Catholic south from the Protestant north, for all the variance in regional intensity, the way the institution spread in different moments in different places, there was nothing peculiar or particular about it.
  
  Slavery was the western hemisphere’s universal institution. Centuries of buying and selling human beings, of moving them across oceans and continents, treating humans as property, paying taxes on them, putting them to labor, making profit off of their reproduction, and using them as collateral and capital, brought together the Western Hemisphere’s diverse parts, even those parts that didn’t seem to be directly implicated in the slave trade, into a greater whole.
  
  Slavery standardized maritime and commercial jurisprudence, including insurance. Slavery spurred individual regions to develop their comparative advantage—salting of fish in New England, curing of meat in Argentina, for examples (discussed in The Empire of Necessity).
  
  Defending slavery, opposing it, or attempting to reform and regulate it led to the transformation of Christianity, moral philosophy, and international law. Research into how to ameliorate the coerced transport of humans, or to make the transport more profitable, led to advances in medicine that today benefit us all.
  
  One of the things I tried to show in "The Empire of Necessity" was how, in Montevideo and Buenos Aires at least, the high mortality rate of the Middle Passage led to the secularization of medical knowledge: Every time a doctor threw back a hatch to reveal the horrors below, it became a little bit more difficult to blame mental illness on demons.
  
  Despite all this scholarly work, each generation—from W.E.B. Du Bois to Robin Blackburn, from Eric Williams to Walter Johnson—seems condemned to have to prove the obvious anew: Slavery created the modern world, and the modern world’s divisions (both abstract and concrete) are the product of slavery.
  
  Slavery is both the thing that can’t be transcended but also what can never be remembered. That Catch-22—can’t forget, can’t remember—is the motor contradiction of public discourse, from exalted discussions of American Exceptionalism to the everyday idiocy found on cable, in its coverage, for example, of Baltimore and Ferguson.
  
  In any case, for the award ceremony, the Bancroft folk asked for brief summations of our book. Here’s an excerpt from Sven’s:
  
  Empire of Cotton explains the industrial take off of Europe and North America as a result of the emergence of peculiar kinds of uniquely powerful states, who built peculiar connections to capital owners who then, jointly, succeeded in integrating distant regions of the world into a European dominated world economy.
  
  They did so by engaging in violent trade with Asia, by transporting enslaved workers from Africa to the Americas, and by capturing huge expanses of land from native peoples in many regions of the world.
  
  In the story that follows from that account, the countryside matters as much as cities, slave labor as much as wage labor, violence as much as the rule of law, and coercion as much as contracts.
  
  The history of the United States is central to the ensuing story, because it was there that most of the cotton for world markets was grown, and, until 1865, almost exclusively grown by slaves.
  
  The United States matters to this story because it was one of the earliest examples of successful industrialization—in cotton textiles.
  
  And the United States matters because it helped pioneer new relations between industry and agriculture with the emergence of sharecropping regimes in the wake of the American Civil War.
  
  Just as much as the United States mattered to cotton, cotton mattered to the United States. Cotton reinvigorated slavery, established the young nation’s place in the global economy and eventually helped create the political and economic conflicts that resulted in civil war.
  
  And here’s a bit from mine:
  
  My first thought, when I learned that Sven’s "Empire of Cotton" and my book, "The Empire of Necessity" won the Bancroft Award, was to wonder whether cotton was a necessity or a freedom.
  
  And then I thought, of course, they are both, the wealth created from the trade and the labor needed to create the wealth.
  
  The two books complement each other well. Where "The Empire of Cotton" focuses on the material, institutional, and economic foundations and legacies of slavery, state formation, and market expansion, "The Empire of Necessity"(though describing in detail the labor and environmental processes associated with a range of free and unfree labor) is concerned more with the physic and imaginative structure of slavery.…
  
  Capitalism is, among other things, a massive process of ego formation, the creation of modern selves, the illusion of individual autonomy, the cultivation of distinction and preference, the idea that individuals had their own moral conscience, based on individual reason and virtue.
  
  The wealth created by slavery generalized these ideals of self-creation, allowing more and more people, mostly men, to imagine themselves as autonomous and integral beings, with inherent rights and self-interests not subject to the jurisdiction of others.
  
  This process of individuation creates a schism between inner and outer, in which self-interest, self-cultivation, and personal moral authority drive a wedge between seeming and being.
  
  My point is that slavery was central to capitalist individuation, to the schism between inner and outer, which I believe accounts for the endurance of racism in American society, its quicksilver nature, as well as for its deniability.
  
  This is a dinner, not a conference. So I’ll end by cutting to the chase: I think the story at the center of "The Empire of Necessity"—revolving around the New Englander Amasa Delano’s complete and utter blindness to the social world around him—captures the power of a new kind of racism, based not on theological or philosophical doctrine but rather on the emotional need to measure one’s absolute freedom in inverse relation to another’s absolute slavishness.
  
  This was a racism that was born in chattel slavery but didn’t die with chattel slavery, instead evolving into today’s cult of individual supremacy, which, try as it might, can’t seem to shake off its white supremacist roots.
  ........................................................................................................................................................
  
  
  By Sven Beckert
  
  Few topics have animated today’s chattering classes more than capitalism. In the wake of the global economic crisis, the discussion has spanned political boundaries, with conservative newspapers in Britain and Germany running stories on the "future of capitalism" (as if that were in doubt) and Korean Marxists analyzing its allegedly self-destructive tendencies. Pope Francis has made capitalism a central theme of his papacy, while the French economist Thomas Piketty attained rock-star status with a 700-page book full of tables and statistics and the succinct but decisively unsexy title Capital in the Twenty-First Century (Harvard University Press).
  
  With such contemporary drama, historians have taken notice. They observe, quite rightly, that the world we live in cannot be understood without coming to terms with the long history of capitalism—a process that has arguably unfolded over more than half a millennium. They are further encouraged by the all-too-frequent failings of economists, who have tended to naturalize particular economic arrangements by defining the "laws" of their development with mathematical precision and preferring short-term over long-term perspectives. What distinguishes today’s historians of capitalism is that they insist on its contingent nature, tracing how it has changed over time as it has revolutionized societies, technologies, states, and many if not all facets of life.
  
  Nowhere is this scholarly trend more visible than in the United States. And no issue currently attracts more attention than the relationship between capitalism and slavery.
  
  If capitalism, as many believe, is about wage labor, markets, contracts, and the rule of law, and, most important, if it is based on the idea that markets naturally tend toward maximizing human freedom, then how do we understand slavery’s role within it? No other national story raises that question with quite the same urgency as the history of the United States: The quintessential capitalist society of our time, it also looks back on long complicity with slavery. But the topic goes well beyond one nation. The relationship of slavery and capitalism is, in fact, one of the keys to understanding the origins of the modern world.
  
  For too long, many historians saw no problem in the opposition between capitalism and slavery. They depicted the history of American capitalism without slavery, and slavery as quintessentially noncapitalist. Instead of analyzing it as the modern institution that it was, they described it as premodern: cruel, but marginal to the larger history of capitalist modernity, an unproductive system that retarded economic growth, an artifact of an earlier world. Slavery was a Southern pathology, invested in mastery for mastery’s sake, supported by fanatics, and finally removed from the world stage by a costly and bloody war.
  
  Some scholars have always disagree with such accounts. In the 1930s and 1940s, C.L.R. James and Eric Williams argued for the centrality of slavery to capitalism, though their findings were largely ignored. Nearly half a century later, two American economists, Stanley L. Engerman and Robert William Fogel, observed in their controversial book Time on the Cross (Little, Brown, 1974) the modernity and profitability of slavery in the United States. Now a flurry of books and conferences are building on those often unacknowledged foundations. They emphasize the dynamic nature of New World slavery, its modernity, profitability, expansiveness, and centrality to capitalism in general and to the economic development of the United States in particular.
  
  The historians Robin Blackburn in England, Rafael Marquese in Brazil, Dale Tomich in the United States, and Michael Zeuske in Germany led the study of slavery in the Atlantic world. They have now been joined by a group of mostly younger American historians, like Walter Johnson, Seth Rockman, Caitlin C. Rosenthal, and Edward E. Baptist looking at the United States.
  
  While their works differ, often significantly, all insist that slavery was a key part of American capitalism—especially during the 19th century, the moment when the institution became inextricable from the expansion of modern industry—and to the development of the United States as a whole.
  
  For the first half of the 19th century, slavery was at the core of the American economy. The South was an economically dynamic part of the nation (for its white citizens); its products not only established the United States’ position in the global economy but also created markets for agricultural and industrial goods grown and manufactured in New England and the mid-Atlantic states. More than half of the nation’s exports in the first six decades of the 19th century consisted of raw cotton, almost all of it grown by slaves. In an important book, River of Dark Dreams: Slavery and Empire in the Cotton Kingdom (Harvard University Press, 2013), Johnson observes that steam engines were more prevalent on the Mississippi River than in the New England countryside, a telling detail that testifies to the modernity of slavery. Johnson sees slavery not just as an integral part of American capitalism, but as its very essence. To slavery, a correspondent from Savannah noted in the publication Southern Cultivator, "does this country largely—very largely—owe its greatness in commerce, manufactures, and its general prosperity."
  
  Much of the recent work confirms that 1868 observation, taking us outside the major slaveholding areas themselves and insisting on the national importance of slavery, all the way up to its abolition in 1865. In these accounts, slavery was just as present in the counting houses of Lower Manhattan, the spinning mills of New England, and the workshops of budding manufacturers in the Blackstone Valley in Massachusetts and Rhode Island as on the plantations in the Yazoo-Mississippi Delta. The slave economy of the Southern states had ripple effects throughout the entire economy, not just shaping but dominating it.
  
  Merchants in New York City, Boston, and elsewhere, like the Browns in cotton and the Taylors in sugar, organized the trade of slave-grown agricultural commodities, accumulating vast riches in the process. Sometimes the connections to slavery were indirect, but not always: By the 1840s, James Brown was sitting in his counting house in Lower Manhattan hiring overseers for the slave plantations that his defaulting creditors had left to him. Since planters needed ever more funds to invest in land and labor, they drew on global capital markets; without access to the resources of New York and London, the expansion of slave agriculture in the American South would have been all but impossible.
  
  The profits accumulated through slave labor had a lasting impact. Both the Browns and the Taylors eventually moved out of commodities and into banking. The Browns created an institution that partially survives to this day as Brown Brothers, Harriman & Co., while Moses Taylor took charge of the precursor of Citibank. Some of the 19th century’s most important financiers—including the Barings and Rothschilds—were deeply involved in the "Southern trade," and the profits they accumulated were eventually reinvested in other sectors of the global economy. As a group of freedmen in Virginia observed in 1867, "our wives, our children, our husbands, have been sold over and over again to purchase the lands we now locate upon. … And then didn’t we clear the land, and raise the crops of corn, of tobacco, of rice, of sugar, of every thing. And then didn’t the large cities in the North grow up on the cotton and the sugars and the rice that we made?" Slavery, they understood, was inscribed into the very fabric of the American economy.
  
  Southern slavery was important to American capitalism in other ways as well. As management scholars and historians have discovered in recent years, innovations in tabulating the cost and productivity of labor derived from the world of plantations. They were unusual work sites in that owners enjoyed nearly complete control over their workers and were thus able to reinvent the labor process and the accounting for it—a power that no manufacturer enjoyed in the mid-19th century.
  
  As Caitlin Rosenthal has shown, slave labor allowed the enslavers to experiment in novel ways with labor control. Edward E. Baptist, who has studied in great detail the work practices on plantations and emphasized their modernity in The Half Has Never Been Told: Slavery and the Making of Modern Capitalism (Basic Books), has gone so far as to argue that as new methods of labor management entered the repertoire of plantation owners, torture became widely accepted. Slave plantations, not railroads, were in fact America’s first "big business."
  
  Moreover, as Seth Rockman has shown, the slave-dominated economy of the South also constituted an important market for goods produced by a wide variety of Northern manufacturers and artisans. Supplying plantations clothing and brooms, plows and fine furniture, Northern businesses dominated the large market in the South, which itself did not see significant industrialization before the end of the 19th century.
  
  Further, as all of us learned in school, industrialization in the United States focused at first largely on cotton manufacturing: the spinning of cotton thread with newfangled machines and eventually the weaving of that thread with looms powered at first by water and then by steam. The raw material that went into the factories was grown almost exclusively by slaves. Indeed, the large factories emerging along the rivers of New England, with their increasing number of wage workers, cannot be imagined without reliable, ever-increasing supplies of ever-cheaper raw cotton. The Cabots, Lowells, and Slaters—whatever their opinions on slavery—all profited greatly from the availability of cheap, slave-grown cotton.
  
  As profits accumulated in the cotton trade, in cotton manufacturing, in cotton growing, and in supplying Southern markets, many cultural, social, and educational institutions benefited: congregations, hospitals, universities. Given that the United States in the first half of the 19th century was a society permeated by slavery and its earnings, it is hardly surprising that institutions that at first glance seem far removed from the violence of plantation life came to be implicated in slavery as well.
  
  Craig Steven Wilder has shown in Ebony and Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities (Bloomsbury, 2013) how Brown and Harvard Universities, among others, drew donations from merchants involved in the slave trade, had cotton manufacturers on their boards, trained generations of Southern elites who returned home to a life of violent mastery, and played central roles in creating the ideological underpinnings of slavery.
  
  By 1830, one million Americans, most of them enslaved, grew cotton. Raw cotton was the most important export of the United States, at the center of America’s financial flows and emerging modern business practices, and at the core of its first modern manufacturing industry. As John Brown, a fugitive slave, observed in 1854: "When the price [of cotton] rises in the English market, the poor slaves immediately feel the effects, for they are harder driven, and the whip is kept more constantly going."
  
  Just as cotton, and with it slavery, became key to the U.S. economy, it also moved to the center of the world economy and its most consequential transformations: the creation of a globally interconnected economy, the Industrial Revolution, the rapid spread of capitalist social relations in many parts of the world, and the Great Divergence—the moment when a few parts of the world became quite suddenly much richer than every other part. The humble fiber, transformed into yarn and cloth, stood at the center of the emergence of the industrial capitalism that is so familiar to us today. Our modern world originates in the cotton factories, cotton ports, and cotton plantations of the 18th and 19th centuries. The United States was just one nexus in a much larger story that connected artisans in India, European manufacturers, and, in the Americas, African slaves and land-grabbing settlers. It was those connections, over often vast distances, that created an empire of cotton—and with it modern capitalism.
  
  To understand American slavery, we need to analyze the relative strength of social and political structures in places such as the 18th-century Ottoman Empire and 1840s western India. To understand capitalism’s relationship to slavery, we need to see the control of cultivators in Africa over their land and labor, as well as the transformations of the Indian countryside, the institutional structures of capitalism in Britain, and the state structures of Egypt.
  
  It is at this point that the history of capitalism connects in refreshing ways with another important emerging field, global history. As is widely known, history as an academic discipline emerged hand-in-hand with the modern nation-state, and indeed played an important part in its constitution. It is for this reason that most history has been framed within the borders of modern states. In recent years, however, some historians have tried to think beyond such frameworks, bringing together stories of regional or even global scope—for example, Charles S. Maier’s Leviathan 2.0: Inventing Modern Statehood (Harvard University Press) and Jürgen Osterhammel’s The Transformation of the World: A Global History of the Nineteenth Century (Princeton University Press).
  
  Within that literature, economic history has played a particularly important role, with trailblazing works such as Kenneth Pomeranz’s The Great Divergence: China, Europe, and the Making of the Modern World Economy (Princeton, 2000) and Marcel van der Linden’s Workers of the World: Essays Toward a Global Labor History (Brill, 2008). Economic history, which for so long has been focused mostly on "national" questions—the "coming of managerial capitalism" in the United States, "organized capitalism" in Germany, the "sprouts of capitalism" in China—now increasingly tackles broader questions, looking at capitalism as a global system.
  
  When we apply a global perspective, we develop a new appreciation for the centrality of slavery, in the United States and elsewhere, in the emergence of modern capitalism. We can also understand how that dependence on slavery was eventually overcome later in the 19th century. We come to understand that the ability of European merchants to secure ever-greater quantities of cotton cloth from South Asia in the 17th and 18th centuries was crucial to the trans-Atlantic slave trade, as cloth came to be the core commodity exchanged for slaves on the western coast of Africa. We grasp that the rapidly expanding markets for South Asian cloth in Europe and elsewhere motivated Europeans to enter the cotton-manufacturing industry, which had flourished elsewhere in the world for millennia.
  
  And a global perspective allows us to comprehend in new ways how slavery became central to the Industrial Revolution. As machine production of cotton textiles expanded in Britain and continental Europe, traditional sources of raw cotton—especially cultivators in the Ottoman Empire as well as in Africa and India—proved insufficient. With European merchants unable to encourage the monocultural production of cotton in these regions and to transform peasant agriculture, they began to draw on slave-grown cotton, at first from the West Indies and Brazil, and by the 1790s especially in the United States.
  
  As a result, Europe’s ability to industrialize rested at first entirely on the control of expropriated lands and enslaved labor in the Americas. It was able to escape the constraints on its own resources—no cotton, after all, was grown in Europe—because of its increasing and often violent domination of global trade networks, along with the control of huge territories in the Americas. For the first 80 years of modern industry, the only significant quantities of raw cotton entering European markets were produced by slaves—and not from the vastly larger cotton harvests of China or India.
  
  By 1800, 25 percent of the cotton that landed in Liverpool, the world’s most important cotton port, originated in the United States; 20 years later, that proportion had increased to 59 percent; by 1850, 72 percent of the cotton consumed in Britain was grown in the United States, with similar proportions for other European countries. A global perspective lets us see that the ability to secure more and cheaper cotton gave European and North American manufacturers the ability to increase the production of cheap yarn and cloth, which in turn allowed them to capture ancient cotton markets in Asia, Africa, and elsewhere, furthering a wave of deindustrialization in those parts of the world. Innovations in long-distance trade, the investment of capital over long distances, and the institutions in which this new form of capitalist globalization were embedded all derived from a global trade dominated by slave labor and colonial expansion.
  
  A global perspective on the history of cotton also shows that slave labor is as much a sign of the weakness as of the strength of Western capital and states. The ability to subdue labor in distant locations testified to the accumulated power of European and North American capital owners. Yet it also showed their inability to transform peasant agriculture. It was only in the last third of the 19th century that peasant producers in places such as Central Asia, West Africa, India, and upcountry Georgia, in the United States, could be integrated into the global empire of cotton, making a world possible in which the growing of cotton for industry expanded drastically without resort to enslaving the world’s cotton workers. Indeed, one of the weaknesses of a perspective that focuses almost exclusively on the fabulously profitable slave/cotton complex of the antebellum American South is its inability to explain the emergence of an empire of cotton without slavery.
  
  We cannot know if the cotton industry was the only possible way into the modern industrial world, but we do know that it was the path to global capitalism. We do not know if Europe and North America could have grown rich without slavery, but we do know that industrial capitalism and the Great Divergence in fact emerged from the violent caldron of slavery, colonialism, and the expropriation of land. In the first 300 years of the expansion of capitalism, particularly the moment after 1780 when it entered into its decisive industrial phase, it was not the small farmers of the rough New England countryside who established the United States’ economic position. It was the backbreaking labor of unremunerated American slaves in places like South Carolina, Mississippi, and Alabama.
  
  When we marshal big arguments about the West’s superior economic performance, and build these arguments upon an account of the West’s allegedly superior institutions like private-property rights, lean government, and the rule of law, we need to remember that the world Westerners forged was equally characterized by exactly the opposite: vast confiscation of land and labor, huge state intervention in the form of colonialism, and the rule of violence and coercion. And we also need to qualify the fairy tale we like to tell about capitalism and free labor. Global capitalism is characterized by a whole variety of labor regimes, one of which, a crucial one, was slavery.
  
  During its heyday, however, slavery was seen as essential to the economy of the Western world. No wonder The Economist worried in September 1861, when Union General John C. Frémont emancipated slaves in Missouri, that such a "fearful measure" might spread to other slaveholding states, "inflict[ing] utter ruin and universal desolation on those fertile territories"—and on the merchants of Boston and New York, "whose prosperity … has always been derived" to a large extent from those territories. Slavery did not die because it was unproductive or unprofitable, as some earlier historians have argued. Slavery was not some feudal remnant on the way to extinction. It died because of violent struggle, because enslaved workers continually challenged the people who held them in bondage—nowhere more successfully than in the 1790s in the French colony of Saint-Domingue (now Haiti, site of the first free nation of color in the New World), and because a courageous group of abolitionists struggled against some of the dominant economic interests of their time.
  
  A contributing factor in the death of slavery was the fact that it was a system not just of labor exploitation but of rule that drew in particular ways on state power. Southern planters had enormous political power. They needed it: to protect the institution of slavery itself, to expand its reach into ever more lands, to improve infrastructures, and to position the United States within the global economy as an exporter of agricultural commodities.
  
  In time, the interests of the South conflicted more and more with those of a small but growing group of Northern industrialists, farmers, and workers. Able to mobilize labor through wage payments, Northerners demanded a strong state to raise tariffs, build infrastructures conducive to domestic industrialization, and guarantee the territorial extension of free labor in the United States. Afraid that they were losing control over essential levers of power, slaveowners tried to strike out on their own.
  
  After the Civil War, a new kind of capitalism arose, in the United States and elsewhere. Yet that new capitalism—characterized first and foremost by states with unprecedented bureaucratic, infrastructural, and military capacities, and by wage labor—had been enabled by the profits, institutions, networks, technologies, and innovations that emerged from slavery, colonialism, and land expropriation.
  
  That legacy is still with us today. The great inequalities, both domestically and internationally, that characterize the world we live in are at least partly the result of capitalism’s long and violent history.
  
  There are still many open questions about slavery and capitalism, some specific, some broad. We have not yet conclusively shown, for example, how methods of labor control migrated from the world of the plantation to the world of the factory. We need more-detailed research on where the profits from slavery accumulated in Europe and the American North, and how they mattered to other sectors of the economy. We would benefit from a better understanding of how the tight economic connection between Northern entrepreneurs and slavery came to be undone. And we have only begun to account for what the rethinking of slavery does to our more general understanding of capitalism.
  
  But what we do know is that the histories of slavery and of capitalism look very different if we understand them in relation to each other. The next time we walk the streets of Lower Manhattan or the grounds of Harvard University, we should think at least in passing of the millions of enslaved workers who helped make some of that grandeur possible, and to the ways that slavery’s legacy persists today.
  
  Sven Beckert is a professor of American history at Harvard University. His latest book, Empire of Cotton: A Global History, has just been published by Alfred A. Knopf.

  reply
• amanfo 10 years ago

  Dear Sir Baidoo, nice try but, the magnitude of the enslavement of the blacks on the soil of Africa supersedes any other which preceded or will succeed it. No other system of philosophy or ideology will promote this heinous m ...
  read full comment

  Dear Sir Baidoo, nice try but, the magnitude of the enslavement of the blacks on the soil of Africa supersedes any other which preceded or will succeed it. No other system of philosophy or ideology will promote this heinous murder and crime apart from capitalism. Thank you

  reply
• francis kwarteng 10 years ago

  Source: The Chronicle of Higher Education
  
  Title: Slavery and Capitalism
  
  Author: Sven Beckert
  
  Few topics have animated today’s chattering classes more than capitalism. In the wake of the global economic crisis, the ...
  read full comment

  Source: The Chronicle of Higher Education
  
  Title: Slavery and Capitalism
  
  Author: Sven Beckert
  
  Few topics have animated today’s chattering classes more than capitalism. In the wake of the global economic crisis, the discussion has spanned political boundaries, with conservative newspapers in Britain and Germany running stories on the "future of capitalism" (as if that were in doubt) and Korean Marxists analyzing its allegedly self-destructive tendencies. Pope Francis has made capitalism a central theme of his papacy, while the French economist Thomas Piketty attained rock-star status with a 700-page book full of tables and statistics and the succinct but decisively unsexy title Capital in the Twenty-First Century (Harvard University Press).
  
  With such contemporary drama, historians have taken notice. They observe, quite rightly, that the world we live in cannot be understood without coming to terms with the long history of capitalism—a process that has arguably unfolded over more than half a millennium. They are further encouraged by the all-too-frequent failings of economists, who have tended to naturalize particular economic arrangements by defining the "laws" of their development with mathematical precision and preferring short-term over long-term perspectives. What distinguishes today’s historians of capitalism is that they insist on its contingent nature, tracing how it has changed over time as it has revolutionized societies, technologies, states, and many if not all facets of life.
  
  Nowhere is this scholarly trend more visible than in the United States. And no issue currently attracts more attention than the relationship between capitalism and slavery.
  
  If capitalism, as many believe, is about wage labor, markets, contracts, and the rule of law, and, most important, if it is based on the idea that markets naturally tend toward maximizing human freedom, then how do we understand slavery’s role within it? No other national story raises that question with quite the same urgency as the history of the United States: The quintessential capitalist society of our time, it also looks back on long complicity with slavery. But the topic goes well beyond one nation. The relationship of slavery and capitalism is, in fact, one of the keys to understanding the origins of the modern world.
  
  For too long, many historians saw no problem in the opposition between capitalism and slavery. They depicted the history of American capitalism without slavery, and slavery as quintessentially noncapitalist. Instead of analyzing it as the modern institution that it was, they described it as premodern: cruel, but marginal to the larger history of capitalist modernity, an unproductive system that retarded economic growth, an artifact of an earlier world. Slavery was a Southern pathology, invested in mastery for mastery’s sake, supported by fanatics, and finally removed from the world stage by a costly and bloody war.
  
  Some scholars have always disagree with such accounts. In the 1930s and 1940s, C.L.R. James and Eric Williams argued for the centrality of slavery to capitalism, though their findings were largely ignored. Nearly half a century later, two American economists, Stanley L. Engerman and Robert William Fogel, observed in their controversial book Time on the Cross (Little, Brown, 1974) the modernity and profitability of slavery in the United States. Now a flurry of books and conferences are building on those often unacknowledged foundations. They emphasize the dynamic nature of New World slavery, its modernity, profitability, expansiveness, and centrality to capitalism in general and to the economic development of the United States in particular.
  
  The historians Robin Blackburn in England, Rafael Marquese in Brazil, Dale Tomich in the United States, and Michael Zeuske in Germany led the study of slavery in the Atlantic world. They have now been joined by a group of mostly younger American historians, like Walter Johnson, Seth Rockman, Caitlin C. Rosenthal, and Edward E. Baptist looking at the United States.
  
  While their works differ, often significantly, all insist that slavery was a key part of American capitalism—especially during the 19th century, the moment when the institution became inextricable from the expansion of modern industry—and to the development of the United States as a whole.
  
  For the first half of the 19th century, slavery was at the core of the American economy. The South was an economically dynamic part of the nation (for its white citizens); its products not only established the United States’ position in the global economy but also created markets for agricultural and industrial goods grown and manufactured in New England and the mid-Atlantic states. More than half of the nation’s exports in the first six decades of the 19th century consisted of raw cotton, almost all of it grown by slaves. In an important book, River of Dark Dreams: Slavery and Empire in the Cotton Kingdom (Harvard University Press, 2013), Johnson observes that steam engines were more prevalent on the Mississippi River than in the New England countryside, a telling detail that testifies to the modernity of slavery. Johnson sees slavery not just as an integral part of American capitalism, but as its very essence. To slavery, a correspondent from Savannah noted in the publication Southern Cultivator, "does this country largely—very largely—owe its greatness in commerce, manufactures, and its general prosperity."
  
  Much of the recent work confirms that 1868 observation, taking us outside the major slaveholding areas themselves and insisting on the national importance of slavery, all the way up to its abolition in 1865. In these accounts, slavery was just as present in the counting houses of Lower Manhattan, the spinning mills of New England, and the workshops of budding manufacturers in the Blackstone Valley in Massachusetts and Rhode Island as on the plantations in the Yazoo-Mississippi Delta. The slave economy of the Southern states had ripple effects throughout the entire economy, not just shaping but dominating it.
  
  Merchants in New York City, Boston, and elsewhere, like the Browns in cotton and the Taylors in sugar, organized the trade of slave-grown agricultural commodities, accumulating vast riches in the process. Sometimes the connections to slavery were indirect, but not always: By the 1840s, James Brown was sitting in his counting house in Lower Manhattan hiring overseers for the slave plantations that his defaulting creditors had left to him. Since planters needed ever more funds to invest in land and labor, they drew on global capital markets; without access to the resources of New York and London, the expansion of slave agriculture in the American South would have been all but impossible.
  
  The profits accumulated through slave labor had a lasting impact. Both the Browns and the Taylors eventually moved out of commodities and into banking. The Browns created an institution that partially survives to this day as Brown Brothers, Harriman & Co., while Moses Taylor took charge of the precursor of Citibank. Some of the 19th century’s most important financiers—including the Barings and Rothschilds—were deeply involved in the "Southern trade," and the profits they accumulated were eventually reinvested in other sectors of the global economy. As a group of freedmen in Virginia observed in 1867, "our wives, our children, our husbands, have been sold over and over again to purchase the lands we now locate upon. … And then didn’t we clear the land, and raise the crops of corn, of tobacco, of rice, of sugar, of every thing. And then didn’t the large cities in the North grow up on the cotton and the sugars and the rice that we made?" Slavery, they understood, was inscribed into the very fabric of the American economy.
  
  Southern slavery was important to American capitalism in other ways as well. As management scholars and historians have discovered in recent years, innovations in tabulating the cost and productivity of labor derived from the world of plantations. They were unusual work sites in that owners enjoyed nearly complete control over their workers and were thus able to reinvent the labor process and the accounting for it—a power that no manufacturer enjoyed in the mid-19th century.
  
  As Caitlin Rosenthal has shown, slave labor allowed the enslavers to experiment in novel ways with labor control. Edward E. Baptist, who has studied in great detail the work practices on plantations and emphasized their modernity in The Half Has Never Been Told: Slavery and the Making of Modern Capitalism (Basic Books), has gone so far as to argue that as new methods of labor management entered the repertoire of plantation owners, torture became widely accepted. Slave plantations, not railroads, were in fact America’s first "big business."
  
  Moreover, as Seth Rockman has shown, the slave-dominated economy of the South also constituted an important market for goods produced by a wide variety of Northern manufacturers and artisans. Supplying plantations clothing and brooms, plows and fine furniture, Northern businesses dominated the large market in the South, which itself did not see significant industrialization before the end of the 19th century.
  
  Further, as all of us learned in school, industrialization in the United States focused at first largely on cotton manufacturing: the spinning of cotton thread with newfangled machines and eventually the weaving of that thread with looms powered at first by water and then by steam. The raw material that went into the factories was grown almost exclusively by slaves. Indeed, the large factories emerging along the rivers of New England, with their increasing number of wage workers, cannot be imagined without reliable, ever-increasing supplies of ever-cheaper raw cotton. The Cabots, Lowells, and Slaters—whatever their opinions on slavery—all profited greatly from the availability of cheap, slave-grown cotton.
  
  As profits accumulated in the cotton trade, in cotton manufacturing, in cotton growing, and in supplying Southern markets, many cultural, social, and educational institutions benefited: congregations, hospitals, universities. Given that the United States in the first half of the 19th century was a society permeated by slavery and its earnings, it is hardly surprising that institutions that at first glance seem far removed from the violence of plantation life came to be implicated in slavery as well.
  
  Craig Steven Wilder has shown in Ebony and Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities (Bloomsbury, 2013) how Brown and Harvard Universities, among others, drew donations from merchants involved in the slave trade, had cotton manufacturers on their boards, trained generations of Southern elites who returned home to a life of violent mastery, and played central roles in creating the ideological underpinnings of slavery.
  
  By 1830, one million Americans, most of them enslaved, grew cotton. Raw cotton was the most important export of the United States, at the center of America’s financial flows and emerging modern business practices, and at the core of its first modern manufacturing industry. As John Brown, a fugitive slave, observed in 1854: "When the price [of cotton] rises in the English market, the poor slaves immediately feel the effects, for they are harder driven, and the whip is kept more constantly going."
  
  Just as cotton, and with it slavery, became key to the U.S. economy, it also moved to the center of the world economy and its most consequential transformations: the creation of a globally interconnected economy, the Industrial Revolution, the rapid spread of capitalist social relations in many parts of the world, and the Great Divergence—the moment when a few parts of the world became quite suddenly much richer than every other part. The humble fiber, transformed into yarn and cloth, stood at the center of the emergence of the industrial capitalism that is so familiar to us today. Our modern world originates in the cotton factories, cotton ports, and cotton plantations of the 18th and 19th centuries. The United States was just one nexus in a much larger story that connected artisans in India, European manufacturers, and, in the Americas, African slaves and land-grabbing settlers. It was those connections, over often vast distances, that created an empire of cotton—and with it modern capitalism.
  
  To understand American slavery, we need to analyze the relative strength of social and political structures in places such as the 18th-century Ottoman Empire and 1840s western India. To understand capitalism’s relationship to slavery, we need to see the control of cultivators in Africa over their land and labor, as well as the transformations of the Indian countryside, the institutional structures of capitalism in Britain, and the state structures of Egypt.
  
  It is at this point that the history of capitalism connects in refreshing ways with another important emerging field, global history. As is widely known, history as an academic discipline emerged hand-in-hand with the modern nation-state, and indeed played an important part in its constitution. It is for this reason that most history has been framed within the borders of modern states. In recent years, however, some historians have tried to think beyond such frameworks, bringing together stories of regional or even global scope—for example, Charles S. Maier’s Leviathan 2.0: Inventing Modern Statehood (Harvard University Press) and Jürgen Osterhammel’s The Transformation of the World: A Global History of the Nineteenth Century (Princeton University Press).
  
  Within that literature, economic history has played a particularly important role, with trailblazing works such as Kenneth Pomeranz’s The Great Divergence: China, Europe, and the Making of the Modern World Economy (Princeton, 2000) and Marcel van der Linden’s Workers of the World: Essays Toward a Global Labor History (Brill, 2008). Economic history, which for so long has been focused mostly on "national" questions—the "coming of managerial capitalism" in the United States, "organized capitalism" in Germany, the "sprouts of capitalism" in China—now increasingly tackles broader questions, looking at capitalism as a global system.
  
  When we apply a global perspective, we develop a new appreciation for the centrality of slavery, in the United States and elsewhere, in the emergence of modern capitalism. We can also understand how that dependence on slavery was eventually overcome later in the 19th century. We come to understand that the ability of European merchants to secure ever-greater quantities of cotton cloth from South Asia in the 17th and 18th centuries was crucial to the trans-Atlantic slave trade, as cloth came to be the core commodity exchanged for slaves on the western coast of Africa. We grasp that the rapidly expanding markets for South Asian cloth in Europe and elsewhere motivated Europeans to enter the cotton-manufacturing industry, which had flourished elsewhere in the world for millennia.
  
  And a global perspective allows us to comprehend in new ways how slavery became central to the Industrial Revolution. As machine production of cotton textiles expanded in Britain and continental Europe, traditional sources of raw cotton—especially cultivators in the Ottoman Empire as well as in Africa and India—proved insufficient. With European merchants unable to encourage the monocultural production of cotton in these regions and to transform peasant agriculture, they began to draw on slave-grown cotton, at first from the West Indies and Brazil, and by the 1790s especially in the United States.
  
  As a result, Europe’s ability to industrialize rested at first entirely on the control of expropriated lands and enslaved labor in the Americas. It was able to escape the constraints on its own resources—no cotton, after all, was grown in Europe—because of its increasing and often violent domination of global trade networks, along with the control of huge territories in the Americas. For the first 80 years of modern industry, the only significant quantities of raw cotton entering European markets were produced by slaves—and not from the vastly larger cotton harvests of China or India.
  
  By 1800, 25 percent of the cotton that landed in Liverpool, the world’s most important cotton port, originated in the United States; 20 years later, that proportion had increased to 59 percent; by 1850, 72 percent of the cotton consumed in Britain was grown in the United States, with similar proportions for other European countries. A global perspective lets us see that the ability to secure more and cheaper cotton gave European and North American manufacturers the ability to increase the production of cheap yarn and cloth, which in turn allowed them to capture ancient cotton markets in Asia, Africa, and elsewhere, furthering a wave of deindustrialization in those parts of the world. Innovations in long-distance trade, the investment of capital over long distances, and the institutions in which this new form of capitalist globalization were embedded all derived from a global trade dominated by slave labor and colonial expansion.
  
  A global perspective on the history of cotton also shows that slave labor is as much a sign of the weakness as of the strength of Western capital and states. The ability to subdue labor in distant locations testified to the accumulated power of European and North American capital owners. Yet it also showed their inability to transform peasant agriculture. It was only in the last third of the 19th century that peasant producers in places such as Central Asia, West Africa, India, and upcountry Georgia, in the United States, could be integrated into the global empire of cotton, making a world possible in which the growing of cotton for industry expanded drastically without resort to enslaving the world’s cotton workers. Indeed, one of the weaknesses of a perspective that focuses almost exclusively on the fabulously profitable slave/cotton complex of the antebellum American South is its inability to explain the emergence of an empire of cotton without slavery.
  
  We cannot know if the cotton industry was the only possible way into the modern industrial world, but we do know that it was the path to global capitalism. We do not know if Europe and North America could have grown rich without slavery, but we do know that industrial capitalism and the Great Divergence in fact emerged from the violent caldron of slavery, colonialism, and the expropriation of land. In the first 300 years of the expansion of capitalism, particularly the moment after 1780 when it entered into its decisive industrial phase, it was not the small farmers of the rough New England countryside who established the United States’ economic position. It was the backbreaking labor of unremunerated American slaves in places like South Carolina, Mississippi, and Alabama.
  
  When we marshal big arguments about the West’s superior economic performance, and build these arguments upon an account of the West’s allegedly superior institutions like private-property rights, lean government, and the rule of law, we need to remember that the world Westerners forged was equally characterized by exactly the opposite: vast confiscation of land and labor, huge state intervention in the form of colonialism, and the rule of violence and coercion. And we also need to qualify the fairy tale we like to tell about capitalism and free labor. Global capitalism is characterized by a whole variety of labor regimes, one of which, a crucial one, was slavery.
  
  During its heyday, however, slavery was seen as essential to the economy of the Western world. No wonder The Economist worried in September 1861, when Union General John C. Frémont emancipated slaves in Missouri, that such a "fearful measure" might spread to other slaveholding states, "inflict[ing] utter ruin and universal desolation on those fertile territories"—and on the merchants of Boston and New York, "whose prosperity … has always been derived" to a large extent from those territories. Slavery did not die because it was unproductive or unprofitable, as some earlier historians have argued. Slavery was not some feudal remnant on the way to extinction. It died because of violent struggle, because enslaved workers continually challenged the people who held them in bondage—nowhere more successfully than in the 1790s in the French colony of Saint-Domingue (now Haiti, site of the first free nation of color in the New World), and because a courageous group of abolitionists struggled against some of the dominant economic interests of their time.
  
  A contributing factor in the death of slavery was the fact that it was a system not just of labor exploitation but of rule that drew in particular ways on state power. Southern planters had enormous political power. They needed it: to protect the institution of slavery itself, to expand its reach into ever more lands, to improve infrastructures, and to position the United States within the global economy as an exporter of agricultural commodities.
  
  In time, the interests of the South conflicted more and more with those of a small but growing group of Northern industrialists, farmers, and workers. Able to mobilize labor through wage payments, Northerners demanded a strong state to raise tariffs, build infrastructures conducive to domestic industrialization, and guarantee the territorial extension of free labor in the United States. Afraid that they were losing control over essential levers of power, slaveowners tried to strike out on their own.
  
  After the Civil War, a new kind of capitalism arose, in the United States and elsewhere. Yet that new capitalism—characterized first and foremost by states with unprecedented bureaucratic, infrastructural, and military capacities, and by wage labor—had been enabled by the profits, institutions, networks, technologies, and innovations that emerged from slavery, colonialism, and land expropriation.
  
  That legacy is still with us today. The great inequalities, both domestically and internationally, that characterize the world we live in are at least partly the result of capitalism’s long and violent history.
  
  There are still many open questions about slavery and capitalism, some specific, some broad. We have not yet conclusively shown, for example, how methods of labor control migrated from the world of the plantation to the world of the factory. We need more-detailed research on where the profits from slavery accumulated in Europe and the American North, and how they mattered to other sectors of the economy. We would benefit from a better understanding of how the tight economic connection between Northern entrepreneurs and slavery came to be undone. And we have only begun to account for what the rethinking of slavery does to our more general understanding of capitalism.
  
  But what we do know is that the histories of slavery and of capitalism look very different if we understand them in relation to each other. The next time we walk the streets of Lower Manhattan or the grounds of Harvard University, we should think at least in passing of the millions of enslaved workers who helped make some of that grandeur possible, and to the ways that slavery’s legacy persists today.
  
  Sven Beckert is a professor of American history at Harvard University. His latest book, Empire of Cotton: A Global History, has just been published by Alfred A. Knopf.

  reply
• YAW 10 years ago

  listen to the "fawning underling" of the West. Our education is biased towards the West,on what basis? Attila the Hun did not come to our shores to capture slaves. The capitalist slave traders from the west did. Ghengis Khan ...
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  listen to the "fawning underling" of the West. Our education is biased towards the West,on what basis? Attila the Hun did not come to our shores to capture slaves. The capitalist slave traders from the west did. Ghengis Khan did not burn Kumasi down Sir Fred Hodgson did.
  
  Only an intoxicated imperialist stooge can tell us this poppycock. Did capitalism curb racism when Komla Gbedemah wanted to spend his money in that race obsessed restaurant in America?
  
  Your quote about British Slaves should be attributed to Emperor Septimus Severus. Cicero had this to say on slavery. "According to law of nature it is only fair that no one should become richer through damages and injuries suffered by another" .He even stressed further by saying "To some extent I liken slavery to death"
  
  One thing is certain, only a man of your "persemankomya" intelligence has a voice to match the "virtues" of the evil Trans Atlantic Slave Trade.
  
  Go and do a DNA test.You probably have more in common with notorious slave traders like John Hawkins and Richard Brew, the Irish Vampire who built Castle Brew at Anomabu. 20 years in Britain and Baidoo, has become more native than the descendants of Margaret Thatcher.

  reply
• Philip Kobina Baidoo 10 years ago

  Hello Yaw, it is obvious that you did not understand my drift. That is alright. Thank you

  Hello Yaw, it is obvious that you did not understand my drift. That is alright. Thank you

  reply
• Prof Lungu 10 years ago

  Sure, your are drifting, Phillip Kobina Baidoo!
  
  From what we've read from Yaw, looks like you've been drifting for more than 20 years!
  
  READ: "...20 years in Britain and Baidoo, has become more native than the descendant ...
  read full comment

  Sure, your are drifting, Phillip Kobina Baidoo!
  
  From what we've read from Yaw, looks like you've been drifting for more than 20 years!
  
  READ: "...20 years in Britain and Baidoo, has become more native than the descendants of Margaret Thatcher..."
  
  WE SAY: Same Baidoo told us the other day Socialism is the source of Tribalism in Ghana!
  
  That is a mighty drift from those Manna days, to those Kwame Nkrumah days and the Unitary Government he enjoyed, and still enjoys when he goes to Tema.
  
  Tell that to the Confederates!
  
  But then, Mr. Phillip Baidoo speaks like one.
  
  ITEM: We wonder why Mr. Baidoo did not tell Thatcher to use free enterprise to manage the Irish Republican Army (IRA). Or, scold her as a communist for using state power to address her IRA mass of a problem.
  
  That, after all, is precisely what he would have told African-Americans: Go found your own enterprises and forget you are citizens of America, the Land of the Free!
  
  Hogwasgh!

  reply