Look to the West Volume IX: The Electric Circus

316

Thande

Donor
Part #316: Rainbow Dawn

“The ASN is NOT run by a Jewish conspiracy!
The ASN is NOT run by a Catholic conspiracy!
The ASN is NOT run by a Societist conspiracy!

There is only one true answer:
The ASN is run by YOUR GOVERNMENT and paid for by YOUR TAXES!
When will they answer for this HYPOCRITICAL COLLUSION?”

- Political poster seen on George Street, Fredericksburg, ENA.
Photographed and transcribed by Sgt Bob Mumby, December 2020[1]

*

(Dr Wostyn’s note)

Tonnerre de Brest…I have to do everything myself. Very well. I am now finally in a position to discuss the Toulon Conference, whose topic was covered in a number of lectures. Different points of view, how appropriately Diversitarian…

*

Extract from recorded lecture on “The Forgotten Continent” by Dr Sizwe Unzuza[2] and Robert Starkey, recorded October 20th, 2020—

…and, in fact, Emperor Mageba kaPhunga spent much of his reign working to build alliances and prevent further European and Novamundine encroachment.[3] But he knew that simply opposing all involvement by those foreigners would simply lead to a concerted corporate, national-backed effort to topple his kingdom. Instead, he engineered matters so that it would be less effort for European and Novamundine traders to build mining concessions within his own legal framework and under his indirect control, with rapid consequences for any that dared overstep the line.

But he was undoubtedly fortunate, one might say lucky or blessed, as well as wise. In other parts of the world, even the wisest rulers could nonetheless fall to colonialism. But the Emperor did not face the most powerful colonialists, and benefited from the fact that those he did face were divided amongst themselves. The Belgians, Scandinavians and English could all be easily turned against one another and would never be natural allies in seeking to overturn Matetwa power. The same was true of the independent Meridian corporations operating in the Cape Republic. Mageba bought time for the Matetwa to modernise. He also benefited from the fact that other local peoples and kingdoms feared the Europeans and Novamundines more than they feared the Matetwa – at first. The Matetwa had already extended – you would say citizenship – to Nguni peoples outside their original core, such as Swati and Xhosa. Other peoples, we can admit today, faced discrimination, but nonetheless remained loyal to the Emperor out of this fear of outside encroachment; most significant among them are the various Sotho kingdoms of the north and south, especially the Bapedi. By the time of the outbreak of the Pandoric War, the Matetwa had secured the support of most of the Tsvana kingdoms to the east. The Tsvana were concerned about Russo-Lithuanian intrusion into the interior, despite the recent Congress of Rome which had theoretically limited such claims – at least openly.[4]

However, by this point the Matetwa had also grown powerful enough that the Rozvi kingdom to the north sought protection from the Scandinavians against the expansionist Matetwa, rather than the other way around.

That is true. Well, Emperor Sojiyisa kaMageba saw that taking any side in the Pandoric War would be damaging to the delicate balance of interests in the ‘Matetwa Mine System’. He chose to remain neutral, and profited from it, (Audience murmurs) but did not join France’s Marseilles Protocol system of armed neutrality.

After the war, the Meridian pseudopuissant corporations had fallen, American money drained from English Natal, and the Cape Dutch, lacking Hermandad protection, turned to the French. For the first time, the French had substantial influence in southern Africa, and this was a concern for the Emperor.

Yes. Well, there seemed only one possible counterweight, for all its potential disadvantages – the distant Russian Empire.[5] You must understand that the Emperor and his ministers knew all too well what the Russians were capable of; he was good friends with Emperor Susyenos of Abyssinia, a country which had struggled under Russian influence. But from his perspective, the Russians were the lesser of two evils when it came to resisting potential French and French-allied encroachment. Nonetheless, after some success in Natal against the English (Mixed audience reactions) he sought the opportunity to leave the war, and did so.

Emperor Sojiyisa had brought the Matetwa Empire through the war intact and allowed its people to focus on fighting the ravages of the plague, but he would not live to see it, passing away from the deadly contagion himself. He was succeeded by Somopho kaSojiyiso as Emperor in 1926.

Emperor Somopho is, of course, probably the most famous of all the Matetwa monarchs in the wider world, due to his involvement in the foundation of the ASN…

*

Extract from recorded lecture “A Century of Cytherean Progress” by Dx Jane Lacklin, recorded November 22nd, 2020—

When Héloïse Mercier returned to power in that turbulent year of 1937 and began her second term as France’s first Prime Ministress, few would have expected how history would remember her. She was sixty-nine years old and had been a witness, and later a participant, to all the great events of the Pandoric War, the First Interbellum and the Black Twenties. She had become something of a bête noire and nemesis to Tsar Paul of Russia, one of the major defining figures of the century – or so it seemed from the perspective of 1937. And, as I have said so much, she was the ultimate trailblazing heroine of Cythereanism, no matter what controversies might attach to some of her beliefs or actions. With these factors to define her long life in politics, who could possibly have imagined that the event that every schoolchild today knows her by had yet to take place? Or that her second term might be defined by anything other than the pressing matter of decolonising Pérousie and Bisnaga?

Of course, I could talk at great length about those, for they represent a long and involved set of negotiations and bitter compromises, whose shadows are still felt today in the Indian nations. However, important as they are, they were inevitably overshadowed by the Toulon Conference and what it represents.

Who invented Diversitarianism? (Audience reaction) A controversial question, isn’t it. Soviet extremists like Yegorov might declare that there is strictly no such thing as Diversitarianism per se, that it is merely a description of the natural state of humanity. Yet even if one accepts that claim, there is a difference between merely observing a process, and analysing or defining it. People practised Carltonist economics of the free market long before Richard Carlton was born, but he still deserves credit for his work in recognising and explaining this fact.[6] So can we point to a similar ‘father of Diversitarianism’? Well, perhaps appropriately, there is no one man – or woman – who can lay claim to such a title. There were important early figures of the First Interbellum such as Edgar Ross and Wim Vanderheyden, who called attention to the Combine’s crimes at a time when few seemed to care, and many others who came after them.[7] Pitt and Bannerjee, in Bengal, were perhaps the first to invoke Diversitarian ideals as a justification for a foreign policy action, in that case choosing to recreate the independent Kingdom of Ceylon, today named Kandy again.[8]

But today, when we think of Diversitarianism, it is natural to also think of the ASN, to the point that sometimes the distinction between the two is, frankly, lost. (Audience murmurs) Today the ASN can often be a controversial organisation. Indeed, one might argue that if it ever escaped controversy, it would no longer be doing its job. (Audience chuckles) Certainly, we can scarcely forget its existence, as it intrudes into every aspect of our daily life. That is something that would have been difficult to foresee, back in the 1930s and 1940s, when the beginnings of the ASN turned on quite minor events. Like the shifting pebbles that lead to an avalanche, those events were barely noticed by most people in Europe, the Novamund or China. But to rulers in what had once been humanity’s most diverse continent, the land of Africa, they were becoming worrying indeed…[9]

*

Extract from recorded lecture on “The Forgotten Continent” by Dr Sizwe Unzuza and Robert Starkey, recorded October 20th, 2020—

Long have European travellers compared the Matetwa people to ‘black Spartans’ or ‘black Romans’, seeking parallels in their own history. In part, of course, they are thinking of our reputation for military prowess and discipline. But there is another reason for the comparison, a parallel crude but undeliable between ourselves and those vanished European cultures. The Portuguese-Brazilian adventurer João Campos described it as our ‘stern, patriarchal simplicity’. I am not sure if he was admiring or simply euphemistic. Regardless, it is a sad fact that the position of women in Matetwa society had frequently lagged behind that of other states. I could put up a spirited defence here, as many of my countrymen will, pointing to examples from history such as Mkabayi kaJama, the female regent who saved the House of Zulu, an important noble dynasty which went on to give birth to many of our most capable generals.[10] But these are the exceptions to the rule. Talking about the honoured place of women in certain areas of society, as we also hear from many other nations around the world, is a canard. There is no denying that women faced, and, sadly, face discrimination in Matetwa society, if to a lesser extent than in the past. Yet almost a century ago, a Matetwa woman changed the world radically.

Princess Zodwa kaSojiyiso was Emperor Somopho’s younger sister. Strong-willed from an early age, she wanted to join her brother in studying at a European university, something which was denied to her as unbecoming of a woman, even a royal one. Undaunted, she instead attached herself to the court party of her uncle, Prince Xaba kaMageba, and followed him into a kind of polite, face-saving exile when he backed the wrong horse in a political divide. Specifically, Prince Xaba was assigned to be Ambassador to the court of the Emperor of Abyssinia in Gondar, an important post but nonetheless a humiliation for the emperor’s brother. Zodwa enjoyed her time at court, becoming involved in intrigue and even having a scandalous affair with the grandson of the Secretary of State, Ras Dawit Yacob.[11] Before she could be sent back to the Kraal in disgrace, the war and plague of the 1920s struck Abyssinia and travel became impossible. As I’ve said, the plague would kill Zodwa’s father Emperor Sojiyiso; his brother Xaba would also suffer, and though he eventually recovered, there were weeks and months when he was unable to discharge his duty as ambassador. During that time, Zodwa impressed commentators who had previously thought her a mere socialite, now displaying resolve and hard work worthy of any of her male relatives. Zodwa played a role in the communications between Abyssinia and Matetwa which led to Matetwa’s exit from the war. She would not be able to return to Matetwa until 1926, to attend her father’s funeral.

Zodwa’s brother Somopho, now Emperor in his own right, attempted to – as he saw it – rein her in and have her married off to a Tsvana chief to secure a dynastic alliance. But Zodwa was having none of it, and engineered her escape from the Matetwa lands. In Abyssinia, she had encountered travellers from Guinea, and now chose to make her way to that land of both stark inequality and golden opportunity. In this era, Guinea was emerging from the Black Twenties having suffered in the plague, like other nations, but also having economically benefited from neutrality, exploiting the war and even the plague by supplying raw materials and medicines. (Audience murmurs) In 1925, before Zodwa even arrived, some Guineans were already concerned by reports of militias allied to Karlus Barkalus’ Societists allegedly having reached Lake Chad.[12] Guinea’s economy continued to grow, though those parts which relied on quinine plantations were beginning to face reduced demand, as Societist-produced Tremuriatix began driving malarial mosquitoes to extinction – along with plenty of collateral damage to more desirable species.[13] Barkalus had benefited hugely by being able to offer hope to plague-wracked African villages by supplying Tremuriatix, and later plague vaccines, and his Societists had built up a positive reputation across vast swathes of Africa – from the Congo to the Zambezi, and an unknown portion of the northern interior towards the Moon Lakes.

The great irony, given Zodwa’s later history, is that in some ways, this represented the height of Societist expansion in Africa. Barkalus and his lieutenants had undoubtedly bitten off more than they could chew, and the Guineans and the Alexandrine Empire also overestimated the scale of their success due to the number of tribes, militias and nations which simply borrowed the popular Threefold Eye symbolism as an independent decision. Many of these were not even vaguely associated with Barkalus’ overextended empire, never mind under his control.

Ultimately, the conditions of the plague years had forced Barkalus to change his plans. Like Jean de Lisieux before him, he had envisaged a circumstance in which Societist control in Africa could expand over a certain area, then pause and focus on ‘digesting’ it, if you will – annihilating its culture while being able to hold it down with Celator occupiers, similar to what they had done in many parts of the Nusantara. Only then would the frontier be pushed forward once again. However, Barkalus had switched to a hearts and minds strategy[14] during the plague years, winning the support of individual villages by saving them from the plague, as I said before. Expansion from that was easy, using the same tactics that Europeans had used in India before the Jihad; take over an area, then offer to protect it against its neighbours, then wait for them to attack (or provoke them) and take over the neighbours too. Then repeat ad infinitum until one ran out of continent. The problem was that Africa was very large and Barkalus had expanded too quickly. He had only a thin leavening of really ideologically-committed Celatores, and after 1926 became increasingly suspicious of Alfarus and was reluctant to send new cadres to South America for training. He relied upon a larger mass of nominal Celatores, who really had more in common with Guinea’s co-opted armies of jagun soldiers who fought primarily for their pay. Such men were useful for keeping the peace and protecting the frontier (a frontier which no good Societist would admit existed, of course) but would prove unreliable if Barkalus actually told them to go and preside over the cultural destruction of their homelands.

By the 1930s, Barkalus’ actions in Africa more resembled forcing vast swathes of the Congo basin to embrace Kongolese culture, rather than actually destroying that Kongolese culture itself. Emperor, or Manikongo, Henrique V remained the non-rotating Zonal Rej of Zone 19, while Barkalus had appointed the Marquis of Wembo as Zonal Rej of Zone 27 – which mostly remained a war zone around the Moon Lakes. Both men would remain in their positions until Barkalus rather ruthlessly betrayed them in 1941 as part of the deal he made with the Black Guards during the Silent Revolution. But my point is that the 1930s were not a time of Societist expansion, more attempted consolidation. Nonetheless, that consolidation led to many horror stories, refugees, and frontier fights, and it was these that Zodwa heard much of in Guinea.

Zodwa’s royal lineage and experience made her a natural choice for a neutral diplomatic envoy. She became a liaison between the Ahosu of Dahomey, a nation with a reputation for Cythereanism – at least in certain contexts – the Grand Palaver in Zazzau, and the Board of Directors in Oguaa.[15] She proved adept at this role, and in 1929 she went on to marry Franklin Royle, a Freedish businessman with considerable influence at the Board. This was shocking and controversial back in Matetwa. Royle might be rich and powerful, but he was a commoner and descended from Virginian slaves. Furthermore, like many Freedes he was of mixed ancestry, and in his case he could have passed for white if he had wished to. The idea of mixed marriages could be quite as controversial in many African nations as they were in Europe and the Novamund.

Though she worked with her husband to build his business empire, Zodwa also continued to act independently as a diplomat and mediator. She travelled across the vast, loosely organised domains called Guinea, from Company Dakar to Freedish Equianoburgh to Oyo Ilorin and Fulani Gobir.[16] She became a celebrated diarist, writing chiefly in Arabic and English, though she also wrote pieces in Isinguni, lingua franca of Matetwa, purely to appeal to reformers back home and irritate her estranged brother, the Emperor. Some say she was inspired by the French Prime Ministress, Madame Mercier, but there’s no evidence she had any particular attachment to that lady before the later events of her life.

But those were events which were soon to come.

Yes, that’s true. In 1939, shortly after she and Franklin Royle had celebrated a decade of marriage, Princess Zodwa embarked on a mission on behalf of both the Board of Directors and certain groups in the Grand Palaver, seeking to sound out the recently-reorganised Voukpata Kingdom about the possibility of a trade agreement. The Voukpata had bordered the vague Guinean frontier for some years, but until recently had not formed a centralised state. Now, it was felt that they could be a potential ally against the rumours of Societist encroachment.[17]

Zodwa travelled beyond the railways and asphalt roads that were slowly being built and expanded across Guinea, necessiting a full caravan. In 1939 this was from the simple camel- or horse-drawn affairs of the past, being a series of large, reinforced mobiles which still ran on steam engines and had wheels borrowed from light protguns which made them suitable for almost any terrain. The choice of steam power, in the spirit-mad 1930s, reflected the lack of reliable supply lines. In the absence of coal, the versatile steam engines could run adequately on wood from the omnipresent forests, whereas a Szikra or Mitchell engine would be useless without its liquid fuel. This was not the case in the growing urban centres of Guinea, of course, where the oil of the Niger Delta was now beginning to be exploited – with mixed consequences for the country and its people – and mobiles running liquid-fuel engines were growing increasingly popular and affordable.[18]

Zodwa’s caravan travelled into the deep, largely unexplored jungles of the lands west of the Ubangi. It is at this point that some smart alec usually comments that they had been explored by the people who already lived there, but that’s not really true, either. The Voukpata and their neighbours, partly because of that inhospitable terrain lending itself to division, had not been able to build centralised states until recently, and frequently knew little of the people living a few dozen leagues away. Africa is a large and diverse place, lest we forget, and this was not the cosmopolitan Kingdom of Benin or the Rozwi Empire with its ruined forts and past grandeur.

But, of course, Africa was changing. In theory, 1939 was not a year for Societist expansion. The Combine in South America had turned on itself in the Silent Revolution, while in Africa, Barkalus was growing increasingly concerned and would soon decide to go there personally, neglecting the empire he had built for decades. Nonetheless, events on the frontier bore little resemblance to what was happening in the remnant of the Kongo Empire, in the new city of Zon19Urb1 that had grown up around the old town of Boma.

As I was saying, Barkalus would use any method to curry favour with tribes and kingdoms on the frontiers of Societist control, to co-opt them or to set them at each others’ throats and weaken them so they could be subdued. He had used medicines during the Black Twenties, but now he increasingly turned to supplying weapons. There were many surplus Pazifikador XVIII bolt-action rifles left over from the War of 1926 (Audience murmurs) which could now be supplied to the highest bidder in exchange for ivory or other goods. Even a revival of the slave trade, effectively; but Barkalus only wanted young children, so they could be raised and indoctrinated in his schools. Indoctrinated with the message that Societism was a movement of peace and Pacifism, while in return for their lives, he had supplied weapons to their relatives so that they could slay each other in pointless wars. Perhaps those wars would have happened anyway, but Barkalus ensured that they were far more bloody and destructive than they would have been. Entire civilisations were wiped out, not by Societist Celatores, but by peoples annihilating one another with dice-loading weapons, clearing the path for his indoctrinated settlers. When I think of the oceans of blood staining that man’s hands…I’m sorry, I need a moment.

That’s fine. Well, as we were saying, Princess Zodwa’s caravan was travelling into Voukpata lands. However, they were ambushed by a group of bandits who had been supplied with Societist guns. Not only rifles, but a few minicings as well.[19] The raid has entered modern mythology in a sense, to the point that it is now difficult to figure out the details of the original events. In hindsight, it seems unlikely it was a deliberate attack targeting Zodwa personally, or that the bandits were acting on the orders of Barkalus or any other Societist leader. They were probably simply seeking plunder and felt that their weapons gave them sufficient edge against the isolated caravan, used to outclassing any other foe they had faced. They might not even have purchased their weapons and uniforms directly from the Societists, for they were frequently being traded from hand to hand for vast sums across the African interior.

Yes, that was another especially pernicious legacy of their crimes…all right, I’m better. Regardless of all those comfortable explanations now, all the Princess saw was a group of armed men wearing Threefold Eye-emblazoned uniforms and carrying Threefold Eye-inscribed guns, shooting indiscriminately at the Company jaguns and the guards provided by the princely states. Of course, those men were good fighters in their own right and held the line, but they had been taken by surprise. Wheels were blown away by improvised land mines, immobilising the caravan, and Zodwa’s mobile even overturned. She survived, but her travelling companion, Oba Laro, a Yoruba prince, broke his neck and was killed instantly. Afterwards, Zodwa mourned her friend in his own right, but was particularly shaken because Laro had replaced her husband at the last minute when he was unable to join her on the mission. In head head, true or not, he had come that close to death himself.

Zodwa, already shocked by the loss of Laro, now found herself spreadeagled across what had been the right-side door of the overturned mobile, as a group of bandits pulled open the opposing door now facing skyward, and brandished weapons at her. According to her account, though she did not speak their language, it was clear that they had intentions of ‘having their fun’ with her – as she put it – (Audience reaction) – before killing her or taking her hostage.

Fortunately, Zodwa had a pistol and was no mean shot herself. She shot the lead bandit through the head, and a moment later the jaguns were able to rally against the bandits and drive the others from her overturned mobile. The raid was defeated, the caravan made makeshift repairs, though Zodwa’s mobile had to be abandoned, and turned around and returned to Guina. With them, they brought the bodies of Laro, the jaguns and other soldiers who had died, and – Zodwa insisted – the bodies of the bandits who had not fled. With the reluctant permission of the Board, she had them pointedly displayed in town squares across Guinea.

Something changed in that determined lady that day. She had always had a strong will and not feared defying anyone up to her brother, the Emperor. Now, she realised how close she had come to death at the hands of those bandits…

*

Extract from recorded lecture “A Century of Cytherean Progress” by Dx Jane Lacklin, recorded November 22nd, 2020—

Princess Zodwa was a great Cytherean heroine in her own right, and one of so many who were inspired by Héloïse’s example.[20] She would have had a worthy place in the annals of history if she had ‘only’ been a powerful and respected diplomat who had refused to be relegated to a so-called woman’s place in society by her male relatives. But after the infamous raid on her caravan in November 1939, she had a new mission in life. “I came closer than I had dreamed to death, and to a fate worse than death,” she would say in speeches. “And I am a wealthy and important woman who can defend herself. I began to think of all those women less fortunate than I, who dwell in villages across the continent, now witnessing those villages burned and their husbands slain thanks to these Societist monsters. They do not seek merely to kill and enslave, as so many conquerors have throughout history. They wish to eradicate every trace of our language, our history, our culture, our way of life. Not for some economic purpose, to steal our land and turn it into farms, perhaps.” (Which is itself a reference to some of the RAC’s shadier past activities). “But because they honestly believe it is the morally right thing to do. And that makes them a far more dangerous foe. Fanatics cannot be reasoned with…”

I could go on. To say English was not Zodwa’s first language, she was remarkably eloquent in her rhetoric, and went on to do the same in French. She would soon find that she had need to do so.

Zodwa was not the only far-sighted African leader who both recognised the threat of Barkalus’ Societists, and realised that France under Héloïse represented an opportunity. France had never exerted much direct colonial influence over Africa, which was interpreted (incorrectly, I must say) as a lack of ambition to do so rather than a happenstance of history. More importantly, under Héloïse France had now, if reluctantly, declared an end to her attempts to colonially dominate Bisnaga, Pérousie and the Mauré. Many in France had accepted the Chambordiste thesis that to do so, regardless of the context, would be to present an image of weakness and create new problems for the future by making France a target for other powers. Few had believed Héloïse’s claim that France’s Nouvelle direction policy would offer opportunities as well as problems. Perhaps even Héloïse herself did not believe it, judging by the tone of her diaries. Possibly she was merely trying to save face. But, remarkably, her claim came true. Decolonisation might make look France weak in the eyes of some, but it gave her authority in the eyes of others.

Furthermore, Héloïse had used Diversitarian arguments when she had stridently advocated for her policy during the Crisis of ’37, as I mentioned earlier. Again, it’s frankly not clear how much she really believed these at the time, and how much she was just saving face. (Audience murmurs) But she argued that the independence of Pérousie and Bisnaga would add additional rainbow shards to the polychromatoscope of the world, additional caltrops in the path of Societist attempts to reduce that rainbow to a dirty grey mass of homogeneity. This metaphor struck a chord with Zodwa and with other African leaders who had experienced the horrors of Barkalus’ expansion, largely ignored up to this point by Europe, the Empire and China…

*

Extract from recorded lecture on “The Forgotten Continent” by Dr Sizwe Unzuza and Robert Starkey, recorded October 20th, 2020—

Zodwa was not the only African leader to understand the opportunity, but she was the catalyst who could make the necessary links to reach a threshold for change.[21] She still had her connections at court in Gondar, where her old lover Ras Welde Yosef had now ascended to the rank of Blattengeta (a now largely ceremonial title designating administrator of the Emperor’s palaces) and the role of Foreign Minister. The Abyssinians were well aware of the Societists’ repeated attempts to suborn the Kingdom of Kitara around the Moon Lakes. Kabaka Olimi V, the kingdom’s ruler during the Black Twenties, had survived the plague only to lose his life to a Societist-backed assassination. Thus far, the chaos Barkalus had hoped to exploit had not materialised, as the Abyssinians under Welde Yosef had cut a deal with the weakened Omanis of Zanguebar and divided Alexandrine Empire in order to assert the claim of a single successor to the Kitaran throne, who became Olimi VI to emphasise continuity. But it was clear that it was only a matter of time before the Societists tried again, and Welde Yosef was supportive of Zodwa’s bold suggestions, if privately sceptical of their chances of success.

Partly via her husband, Zodwa also enjoyed connections with the Board of Directors, the Grand Palaver and the Freedish Parliament. The Alaafin of Oyo was a particularly impassioned supporter, furious with the death of his court favourite and advisor Oba Laro, slain in the Societist attack on Zodwa’s caravan. Not all Guinean leaders in their various ranks and positions agreed that the Societists represented an immediate threat to their borders, or that they should concern themselves with faraway events in other parts of Africa. However, experience during the Black Twenties had hinted that Societist actions in supplying Tremuriatix had undercut the demand for quinine from the Guinean cinchona plantations in Duala, and so – cynically – many business leaders unconcerned with burning Kongolese villages nonetheless supported a concerted attempt to oppose the Societists.

Finally, the third point of the triangle was Zodwa’s erstwhile homeland of Matetwa. Much has been written of this reconciliation for propaganda purposes, but the actions of Emperor Somopho were principally pragmatic and self-interested. His concerns were only tangentially related to the Societists, the edge of whose control still lay far from the frontiers of his Empire. But the weapons Barkalus was trading were travelling far from the nations he was intentionally supplying.

The Matetwa Empire of that period had an Nguni ruling class dominating several second-class subject peoples. Formerly even other Nguni outside the old Matetwa core had fallen into that category, such as the Swati and Xhosa, but by the 1930s they had mostly achieved social equality. The same could not be said of the Sotho peoples, who were related to the western Tsvana. The Tsvana had reluctantly joined with the Matetwa due to concern about encroachment from the Russians in Povilskaja and the Cape Republic. However, following the Black Twenties, while both entities survived, they had been considerably weakened by the struggle. Now, the Matetwa themselves represented a more serious oppressive threat to Tsvana freedom. For now, the Tsvana largely enjoyed internal self-rule, but that could change at any time.

There were several moves to pre-empt such a Matetwa attack. Formerly divided into multiple feuding states, the Tsvana secretly formed a confederation under Kgosi (King or Chief) Kgabo of the Bakwena state. Kgabo then pursued policies that sought to create internal difficulties for the Matetwa and distract them from Tsvana plans to prepare for an independence struggle. In this he was inspired by Somopho’s own move, in 1936, to try to put pressure on the Rozvi state by arming the Matabele minority against the Shona majority.[22] Somopho had essentially sought to test the resolve of Rozvi’s Scandinavian protectors, to see if some of their own internal political problems had distracted them from their commitments to their African vassals. At least in the short run, he had overplayed his hands, as Scandinavia did commit troops to restore order. However, Somopho had inadvertently given Kgabo an idea. Kgabo obtained guns – not from the Russians or Cape Dutch, whose markets were well known to the Matetwa, but third-hand Societist weapons from peoples such as the Herero. These were then supplied to the Bapedi, an especially restless group of Sotho who had chafed under Nguni-supremacist rule for a long time. Given the Bapedi’s location and number relative to the Matetwa army, their rebellion was doomed and was put down in 1939 only four months after it began. Nonetheless, Kgabo had achieved his goal of distracting the Matetwa and ensuring blame did not attach to himself or the Tsvana.

But Kgosi Kgabo had also inadvertently achieved something else. Emperor Somopho was now convinced that he had been the victim of a Societist plot. Ironically, that is precisely the sort of plot that the Societists were genuinely enacting against other African rulers, simply ones of weaker and more divided states that were geographically closer to their headquarters in the Congo region.[23] If it was a deception, it was not one made with the intention of turning Somopho against the Societists, and it is true to say that it merely gave him a glimpse of the future if Barkalus was not stopped.

So, despite their mutual bad blood, Somopho also agreed to support his estranged sister’s bid for a concerted effort to resist Societism. But even multiple African nations together could not achieve this goal alone. Fortunately, Zodwa had identified someone who could help them…

*

Extract from recorded lecture “A Century of Cytherean Progress” by Dx Jane Lacklin, recorded November 22nd, 2020—

According to Héloïse’s celebrated diaries, the first time she became aware of Princess Zodwa was in 1938, when she was mentioned in passing by Colonel Charles Bertin. Bertin had been an officer in the sepoy army of French Bisnaga, one of a number of overseas French aristocrats whose families had elected to pursue their fortunes overseas after the increased taxation of the Bouchez Ministry.[24] During the Black Twenties he had commanded a small expeditionary force of Bisnagi sepoys which had been deployed to assist the Cape Dutch against the Matetwa. Impressed with the Matetwa’s prowess in battle, in the ensuing peace he had become military attaché at the French Embassy to the Kraal, the Empire’s mobile capital, before travelling to France in 1936. Bertin was a useful contact for Héloïse because his background was typical of the so-called ferengi colonials, who mostly violently opposed her plans to decolonise Bisnaga, but Bertin himself supported them.[25] He did not do so from a position of what was best for France, as he identified little with his family’s erstwhile homeland except in the most theoretical way, but because he had gained more respect for his Bisnagi soldiers in the bitter fighting and now felt it was immoral for them to be ruled over by a minority of, often decadent and incompetent, colonial whites. When other French politicians with ferengi connections argued that to quit Bisnaga would be to abandon France’s duty to protect the Christians there from the Muslim and Hindu majority, Bertin conversely argued that Christian morality demanded that France not prevent all the people from Bisnaga from being able to exercise their God-given potential by ruling themselves in whatever way they saw fit.

Bertin was therefore a natural convert to Diversitarianism. Though he had only met Princess Zodwa once, he had been favourably impressed by her intelligence and experience. When he heard of her new mission to rally support against the Societists, he met with an envoy sent by Franklin Royle, her husband, and then approached Héloïse and Foreign Minister Orliac about inviting the Africans to participate in a meeting. This was an unusual step for European diplomacy. The French monarchy had recently invited representatives African royalty to the coronation of King Henri V in 1936, along with those of Asian kingdoms and empires, but under France’s constitutional monarchy that was a different matter to state diplomacy under the control of the Grand-Parlement.[26] Hosting a diplomatic reception on French soil to which African leaders were invited typically implied a level of equality that, in the last century, would have been considered unimaginable. Orliac was uncertain.

Nonetheless, with her typical audacity, Héloïse decided that it represented a prime opportunity. From a view purely of national self-interest, if France could present herself as the protector of a free Africa against Societism, this would effectively replace the so-called ‘soft’ diplomatic influence that Héloïse’s opponents claimed would decline with the ‘shame’ of decolonisation. One might sigh with cynicism at such an interpretation of what has frequently been depicted as such a hopeful moment of Diversitarian sincerity, but what is Diversitarianism if not the admission and embrace of that very fact that the world runs on such national self-interest?

The Toulon Conference was held in February-March 1941. Despite the name, more of the meetings involved took place in Marseilles than in its fellow Mediterranean city of Toulon. The, shall we say, branding was quite deliberate, to avoid any comparison to the old Marseilles Protocol of Prime Minister Leclerc. The use of Marseilles palaces and halls as venues was recognised by a famous cartoon by ‘Bouffon’ in L'actualité illustrée de Paris, in which a dignified-looking and gorgeously-dressed group of Matetwa, Abyssinian and Ashante nobles look in contempt at a group of nudist Massilian Europeans cavorting around a green, captioned “ces sauvages primitifs!

I don’t need to go in to all the diplomatic nitty-gritty of the Toulon Conference. Suffice to say that it provided a forum in which detailed information about the levels of Societist expansion in Africa – sometimes exaggerated due to rumour, but usually accurate – was expounded by the African representatives to the French diplomatic corps and parlementaires. There was widespread shock among that community, mirrored among the public when the inevitable leaks took place. The failure of the war in Spain had already hinted to the French people that they faced a deadly foe across the Pyrenees and beyond the Spanish March. These tales of entire kingdoms disappearing beneath the black flag were troubling, even to those who had little empathy for Africans. It mattered not if a Frenchman felt that France represented a higher level of civilisation than, say, Dahomey. All that mattered was the realisation that the Societists were equally contemptuous of both, and given the opportunity would have no more hesitation in doing unto France, and all of Europe, what they had done to much of Africa.

The Toulon Conference was only the first catalyst for a movement which grew unexpectedly rapidly. England was an early addition. Anglo-French relations had been tense since disagreements with President Osborne over Spain, but Osborne’s Anglian Party had finally lost power in 1934 and was replaced with Stuart Lightfoot.[27] Lightfoot had long gone on record opposing the English possession in Natal, more as a stick to beat Charles Grey with than reflecting his own sincere belief. Now in power at last, he somehow had to stick to his long-cited position without simply unilaterally withdrawing from Natal and surrendering it to the Matetwa, which would have reflected poorly on he and his party. The movement that began at Toulon was a natural way to square the circle, as England could agree to pull out of Natal and the Matetwa could agree (at least on paper) to support an independent native Xhosa-ruled regime there rather than taking it over. The idea of national self-determination must come with caveats (Lightfoot had no desire to reawaken Welsh nationalism after the settlement which Hughes had presided over) but was nonetheless a popular way to morally justify decolonisation which had been embarked on for cost reasons.

Scotland, Ireland and Bavaria also supported the movement, as did the usual French vassals such as the Bernese Republic and Luxemburg. Germany, on the other hand, initially refused to become involved; it was felt that the French could hardly dictate matters of self-determination when they had refused to allow German annexation of German-speaking parts of the former Belgium. Romulan Italy was, of course, stridently opposed, as was her ally Russia at this point – but the Corfiote remnant of Greece, her people furious at the Italians for failing to support the attempted reclamation of the mainland in 1936, promptly joined the French. Scandinavia was also opposed to the movement at first, struggling as the people of Jutland began to assert their own right to be treated as distinct from the insular Danes of Zealand and the other islands. Here in America, at first there was a feeling that it was a distant matter for the Old World and our own anti-Societist policy must be distinct, but eventually President Washborough, in his second term, chose to open negotiations in 1945.

I keep saying ‘the movement’ to be strictly accurate, because at first it had no name. At the Portsmouth Conference of June 1942, it was chosen to adopt the name La concorde des nations contre l'incursion, ‘the Concord of Nations Against (the) Incursion’. It was clearly a name drawn up by committee, and diplomatically selective in not identifying which incursion it was referring to. But it was obvious to everyone that it meant the Societists. Not only in Africa, but on any continent on which they might seek to advance. Siam, which had fought the Societists longer than anyone, joined in 1943, as did the Philippine Republic.

What exactly did the Concord do? Primarily, it tried to prevent its member states from warring against one another, and supplied weapons and training to nations, mostly African ones, which were felt to be at risk of attack from the Societists. Kitara was one obvious early choice. With Barkalus and the Combine distracted by the upheaval of the Silent Revolution, the Concord was able to take credit for holding and pushing Societism back in places where it would probably have begun to decline anyway, which was important in the long term. At first, the ideological underpinnings that we so often associate with the ASN today were less present. Many nations joined more for self-interest than any genuine belief in Diversitarian theory, as I said, but that theory was growing more prominent in academia. Its most powerful argument was that a respect for, and defence of the right to exist, for all cultures represented a weapon against Societism. Societism was acknowledged to be a military threat, and now it was becoming better understood that Societist rule also represented a threat to the language, culture and heritage of lands. A decade or so before, we might ask, so what? What was it to a Frenchman that a tribe near Duala was wiped out to the last man? What was it to a Bengali that Muslims burned a Servian church in Bosnia, or Servs burned a Muslim mosque?

What had changed? Firstly, Societism had affected people across the world, on every continent. Ironically, if Sanchez had hoped to make the peoples of the world empathise with each other, he had succeeded – by providing them with a common foe. (Audience murmurs) Secondly, as I said, the embrace of the idea that every culture had the common right to survival was a powerful one, one which attracted both true believers and those who might use it as an excuse for an otherwise embarrassing withdrawal from overseas colonies.

Inevitably, there was hypocrisy. I already mentioned the English and Welsh. The French had no desire to empower the Bretons or Provençal[28] to seek political independence. The Matetwa had similar views of the troublesome Sotho, like the Bapedi. But an appeal to a universal right of mutual respect nonetheless made a difference even in these cases. Policies such as attempting to extinguish minority languages, already somewhat discredited by the failures of the German Kulturkrieg of the nineteenth century, were now reversed in favour of tolerance or even encouragement of bilingual education. Once, separate tongues, creeds and cultural practices had been seen as a potential threat, an obstacle in the path of a centralising state, an enemy within. Now, they were viewed as a kind of armour or immunisation to protect a nation from the actions of Societism, whether through the infiltration of Agendes or outright invasion by Celatores.

L’assemblée des nations souveraines, the ASN in English, was initially a separate body to the broader Concord, created in 1948. Whereas the Concord was the agreement itself, the ASN was envisaged as a permanent diplomatic congress at which member states could hash out their grievances or report suspicions about Societist infiltration to the community. Over time, the name Concord faded away and the ASN became the movement itself, which was officially recognised in its constitution in 1964.

The ASN of the 1940s was not the ASN of today. It still represented less than half of the world, with China and Bengal hesitant about joining, and Italy and Russia still stridently opposed. Nonetheless, with help from Princess Zodwa and the African representatives, Héloïse had changed the world and sent it down the path to become the place we know today. As I said when I began, who would have thought that the first Foreign Ministress of France, the first Prime Ministress of France, a leader in war and peace who changed French politics beyond recognition – who would have thought that all of that would be a mere footnote at the base of her statue as the woman who founded the ASN?






















[1] (Lt Black’s note) We have puzzled over this one for some time. We’re not sure if it’s an anti-Diversitarian critique (the reference to ‘one true answer’) or, conversely, an ultra-Diversitarian holier-than-thou screen (the reference to ‘hypocritical collusion’, which might be taken as implying that nations acting in concert via the ASN is itself contrary to Diversitarian principles). The beginning also might be taken to imply that the ASN deliberately makes up conspiracy theories about itself and who ‘really’ runs it, but we’re not sure. It is worth noting that, unlike the overtly Societist stickers we’ve seen, this one has escaped vandalism – either because its message is uncontroversial or because the vandals can’t figure out what it means, either.

[2] In OTL this would be transliterated as Nzuza, but transliterations of African names in TTL tend to add a preceding vowel before combinations of letters not found in European languages (Ngola/Angola is an OTL example). This is not consistent, however, and one can find TTL exceptions such as the name of the Nguni or Tsvana linguistic groupings.

[3] See Part #293 in Volume VIII.

[4] See Part #225 in Volume V. Note that the transliteration in TTL is Tsvana rather than Tswana because the word entered English via Russian.

[5] Unzuza is diplomatically not mentioning the fact that Sojiyisa also considered approaching the Societists – see Part #293 in Volume VIII.

[6] Ironically, this analogy falls apart because Richard Carlton doesn’t deserve credit for his writings about free-market capitalism, as he mostly just republished Adam Smith’s works – which had formerly been little-known in TTL due to anti-Scottish prejudice when he wrote them in the aftermath of the Third Jacobite Rebellion. However, assuming Carlton was responsible for those ideas, and generally referring to free-market capitalist ideology as ‘Carltonism’, is a common misconception in TTL. See Interlude #16 in Volume IV.

[7] See Part #273 in Volume VII.

[8] See Part #292 in Volume VIII. Note that it was always called the Kingdom of Kandy, but was referred to internationally as Ceylon until 1995.

[9] This is hyperbole – despite the Societists’ best efforts, Africa remains the most diverse continent in TTL, certainly in genetic and linguistic terms and arguably culturally as well.

[10] Mkabayi kaJama’s life was similar to that of OTL, but recall that the Zulu never became the dominant force within the Matetwa or succeeded them like OTL, so her story is a little more obscure.

[11] The Tsehafe Taezaz, usually translated as ‘Scribe by Command’ or ‘Minister of the Pen’ in OTL, was the most powerful post at the imperial court of Ethiopia (Abyssinia). In OTL it was eventually merged into a Europeanised title of Prime Minister, but in TTL the old title has been retained while the position was somewhat reimagined, and is usually translated as Secretary of State or First Secretary.

[12] See Part #293 in Volume VIII.

[13] Recall that Tremuriatix is the TTL name for DDT.

[14] This is an editorial translation by Dr Wostyn. It is also a bit of a simplification by Unzuza, because Barkalus was already using such a strategy in going after slavers back in the 1900s (See Part #265 in Volume VII).

[15] Oguaa is the original local name for the city of Cape Coast (today in Ghana in OTL). The Royal Africa Company Board was originally based in the infamous Cape Coast Castle (although in TTL it had abandoned the slave trade after its crash in 1781 and revival). In 1860, after the Great American War made past connections with slavery and the slave trade even more untenable, the RAC chose to demolish the castle with its past associations and build a new modernised capital using the local name. In the present day of 2020, this decision is itself controversial, as many see it as trying to cover up shameful history.

[16] Equianoburgh is OTL Sulima in Sierra Leone.

[17] The Voukpata were (according to oral tradition) the ruling clan of the Nzakara people, who today are mostly in the Central African Republic and Republic of Congo. In OTL they were (reportedly) overthrown by Ndounga, who created the Sultanate of Bangassou in the nineteenth century. Bangassou entered European histories when it made a deal with the Congo Free State, supply ivory in return for firearms (similar to the events here) and then was brought under French colonial control a few years later. In TTL the Voukpata were not overthrown, but a more centralised state has recently been created in the aftermath of a power struggle.

[18] Exploitation of the oil of the Niger Delta is running ahead of schedule compared to OTL. This is partly because the region has been under centralised control and colonial influence for longer, and also because in OTL exploratory works paused for the First World War and took some time to restart afterwards.

[19] Submachine guns.

[20] Note the contradiction with the last segment – clearly this is a contentious matter.

[21] We would say ‘gained critical mass’; this is reflecting the different terminology used in TTL for nuclear weapons (‘threshold bombs’).

[22] TTL tends to use the term ‘Matabele’ for all Ndebele people, as it is the Tsvana name for one group of them and this is largely how it has entered European languages.

[23] Note the distinction between geographic Congo with a C (especially referring to the river and its environs) and political Kongo with a K.

[24] Bertin is a descendant of the OTL French statesman Henri Léonard Jean Baptiste Bertin; while his ancestor’s career was somewhat different to OTL, he still became involved with FEIC affairs, which is probably where the connection to French India came in for latergenerations of the family.

[25] ‘Ferengi’ in this context has entered the French language as a term for French colonials born in India (compare pieds-noir in Algeria in OTL). Ironically, the term originally comes from ‘franc’ meaning Frenchman in Old French, but has passed through Persian and Hindi (where it came to mean white European in general) before re-entering the French language with another meaning.

[26] As far as I am aware, the first OTL attendance of an African monarch at a European coronation was that of Litunga Lewanika (also called Lubosi) of Barotseland, who was invited to the coronation of Edward VII of the United Kingdom in 1902. This also featured attendance by representatives of the monarchs of China, Japan, Siam and Persia, among others.

[27] It’s not mentioned here, but Lightfoot’s Democratic Party only had a narrow plurality of seats, and relied on a coalition with the TUA for its parliamentary majority.

[28] Used in a broader sense for a meaning that we would more probably use ‘Occitanian’ for.
 
Interesting: a constitution for the ASN. It does seem that this world can be way more centralised, concerted, and reasonable in regard to the things that mattered.
 
Minor nitpick: what are the "Matabele" doing in Rozvi IITL? Did Mzilikazi's migration North happen ITTL as well? IIRC, it was a consequence of the Mfecane, itself a result of Shaka's Zulu expansion, which never happened ITTL. However, I don't remember the formation of the Matetwa state ITTL very well, it's been written a while ago.
 
Would something like Everywhere Everything at Once be produced ITTL?
I mean uchronia is one of the three partitions of genre fiction TTL, though of course it'll be through a completely Diversitarian lense. Actually speaking of, I think sooner or later "ethnic self-determination for thee, not for we" is going to bite a lot of these signatories right in the ass sooner or later.
 
I mean uchronia is one of the three partitions of genre fiction TTL, though of course it'll be through a completely Diversitarian lense. Actually speaking of, I think sooner or later "ethnic self-determination for thee, not for we" is going to bite a lot of these signatories right in the ass sooner or later.
I mean Oman, Scandinavia, of course Romulan Italy have colonies. Siam was stated to have .. lost Vietnam and Cambodia by the present
 
Giving Look to the West the Man in the High Castle treatment would be interesting 🤔 The most straight up example would be "What if France won the Revolutionary Wars?" or "What if Monterosso won the Pandoric War?" but one of the recent updates mentions speculation in-universe about what would happen if Alfarus had an heir and his position as Kapud became a defacto hereditary monarchy, so we'll go with that!
  • The POD would obviously be Alfarus having a son. It's a relatively simple change so there are no issues there. For the sake of simplicity we'll call him Rodrigus II, though maybe naming his kid after Pablo Sanchez* would be more in-character 🤔
  • For the sake of our scenario we'll say Rodrigus II is just as competent and pragmatic as his father, so some sort of compromise between the KaK and Ursanchezista factions, favoring the former, would be in character and neatly defuse the Quiet Revolution before it begins.
    • He makes peace with Karlus Barkalus, preventing the rise of a potential rival and ensuring the Liberated Zones formerly known as large chunks of Africa remain on side.
    • The ridiculous Combine currency is replaced with proper fiat-backed petrodollars.
    • As a true believer, he naturally sides with the former among the Black Guards, committing to the equality of cultural suppression.
    • For the latter he shifts the Celatores to a more subdued public persona, also beginning the rotation of Zonal Rejes. Part of this is a sop to Barkalus, since the rotation of Rejes defacto devolves even more power to him.
    • The meritocratic tests are also refined into a system that actually, you know, does what it's supposed to do. With his father's death this becomes much easier, though of course from the perspective of the Combine nothing has changed.
  • Next up on the block is the Societist regime in the polity formerly known as the Ottoman Empire. With some changes to the Universal Church and a strong Alfaran hand on the wheel the might-have-been Eternal State becomes just another portion of the Liberated Zones, never becoming a fount of Gray Societism.
  • With the former Ottoman Empire subdued sheer pressure of proximity allows the new Kapud to absorb the former Danubia, making some changes to the Combine system to safely absorb its various strains of heterodox Societism.
  • The Sunrise War- we have no context for what it actually entails, save that Yapon goes Societist and Russia gets nuked by somebody. For the sake of the scenario we'll say it's a limited nuclear exchange between the four major Diversitarian powers, with Yapon brought in as yet another extrusion of the Liberated Zones and the rest expanded in the wake of the conflict.
And so we come to the scenario proper, where South America, most of Africa and huge chunks of Eurasia are waving the black flag, with the rest of the "free world" contorting itself to the whims of Combine trade representatives and novalatina the lingua franca of the new global order.


*His name would probably be Pablus Sankismus Alfarus or something, novalatina is a mess 😂
 

Thande

Donor
Thanks for the comments everyone.

Minor nitpick: what are the "Matabele" doing in Rozvi IITL? Did Mzilikazi's migration North happen ITTL as well? IIRC, it was a consequence of the Mfecane, itself a result of Shaka's Zulu expansion, which never happened ITTL. However, I don't remember the formation of the Matetwa state ITTL very well, it's been written a while ago.
Good point, I may need to rethink that - the trouble is it's easy to slip into a mindset of thinking the current distribution of peoples in southern Africa is the default and forget how much they have changed. While writing this I actually had the realisation I had put the Natal border in the 'wrong' place (for OTL) and then remembered there's no reason why the Matetwa distribution would be the same as OTL anyway for the reasons you mention.
 
Anybody up to adding to the wiki article? The TV Tropes page is a bit behind the curve as well. Nine volumes in it's a bit daunting for new readers and it's always nice to have lore compiled in one place on really long works.
 
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