Malê Rising

This is incredibly incorrect. The British 'retained' the Muhammad Ali Dynasty because when they originally invaded in 1882 it was nominally to restore order and to protect the Suez Canal. They thought it would be a relatively short intervention, not the occupation that it became. There's basically no way the Egyptians could be conditioned to re-accept Turkish rule under any circumstances short of an all-out conquest that the Turks simply don't have the resources, the time, or the allies to do so. Hell even the British had a very hard time holding down Egypt and Sudan, and they certainly were better positioned for the tasks than the Turks were. If Istanbul made any such move toward Egypt the British, the French, and the Russians would on be on them like white on rice. Regarding Egypt let us remember that the British both wanted to keep Turkey strong to resist Russia and to keep her weak so that the British could carve out her own spheres of influence and protectorates from former Turkish vassals and provinces. Basically they not only wanted to have their cake and eat it too, they wanted to prevent anyone else from even getting a crumb of the cake.

Secondly, even if ASBs came down from the stars in their spaceships and directly intervened in the matter, the Turks wouldn't move in any sort of way into Africa. Remember the conquest of Sudan and of Darfur was done under the Khedivate, not by the Ottomans, who cared more for Europe and Mesopotamia than they ever did for North Africa. And why should they? The logistics of trying to stretch a supply train across the Sahara would be immense and costly, and for little to no gain. Hell even the French had a hard time doing it, and there were far more industrialized, more populous, richer, had a better supply situation to begin with, and had some fifty years of solid scientific advancement over what you're proposing. It simply will not happen short of Allah himself coming down and declaring all of the Sahel and North Africa to belong to the Ottoman Sultan.

How do you even remotely propose for the Turks, having conquered Egypt, somehow, and put down the many rebellions they'll face, somehow, and defeated the Russians in the Caucuses and in Romania, and fought off the British and French in Egypt, the East Mediterranean, and the former in Arabia and Mesopotamia, and potentially even the Persians also in Mesopotamia, again somehow, the Turks would then push even further south along the White Nile, then suddenly break west, cross through the Sahel, defeat and conquer the Ouaddai Empire, somehow, defeat the rebellions from there, somehow, then push on even further into the Sahel conquering the Bornu Empire, the Sokoto Republic, and many other states, somehow, and then take complete control of the Lake Chad basin, all the while supplying this massive army over incredibly distances far away from their core lands for absolutely no gain at all. How do you propose for that to happen, hmm?

I'm sorry if I'm coming across as brash but really what you're describing is simply impossible short of a genuine miracle from on high.

Your very first sentence is right, the brain fart is on me. But not the rest. Again, I said what I said in context of Ottomans haven't gotten beaten up by Russians. Before the British decided to intervene themselves IOTL, they demanded the Ottomans to do the job. Ottomans didn't comply because they just got their veteran army utterly executed by the Russians and their economic base of Balkans completely wrecked and additional debts to pay. Had they come out of the war as victors, they will be in the position to reoccupy Egypt. Ottoman Empire prior to 1878 was much stronger then post-1878 Ottoman Empire which we are more familiar of. It was a genuine second-rate power with real power projection capabilities. It managed to fight mano-a-mano against Russians and gave the later a pretty bloody nose. Their weaponry was technologically superior to Russians. And they were able to mobilize up to 200-300k troops to fight invading Russians, if hampered by the lack of command unity. Even with that, they were close to victory. A victorious Ottoman empire will not suffer the devastation of their burgeoning economic center of the Balkans(then was just starting to actually industrialize) and the practical execution of their army, and thus will remain a capable second rate power. Yes, they will have enough resources and ability to subdue a chaotic Egypt, and more then enough to absorb African polities in Sudan and Chad, the later which was hardly even populated. But they will only do so by the good will of the powers, which they will easily get if Khedivate has ceased to be reliable partner.

Ottoman performance in Sudan and Chad will be much better then France will ever be. Less advanced and resourceful they maybe, Ottomans were closer to and much more familiar then any European powers with the region, and vice versa. It has been traditionally and nominally Ottoman's backyard, with historical economic ties to Ottoman dominions in North Africa. Tuaregs and other Saharan and Sahel peoples were attacking European visitors with excuse that they didn't receive the pass from Padishah to travel in the region, and Bornu had a centuries long standing formal diplomatic relations with the Empire. Ottomans were more connected to Africa then people often thinks. And approaching expansion of European empires will only serve to drive the muslim Africans closer to Ottoman orbit. In a sense, by reoccupying Egypt, the Ottomans are only centralizing and preventing so much shrinking of their empire and rather then actually expanding. We'll see no Ottoman port in Senegal, not even Ottoman Sokoto, which I never brought up here in the first place.
 
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You're being absolutely ridiculous. Even an Ottoman Empire that holds the Balkans, defeats the Russians, the French, and the British, conquers the Egyptians, and cracks down on internal dissent, somehow, cannot possibly go on a conquering spree into the Sahel - and more importantly they wouldn't to begin with.

Look at Africa and the Middle East. You're proposing that the Ottoman Turks first (green) defeat the Russians in the Balkans and Caucasus, the French, British, and Egyptians in Egypt, the Persians and British in Mesopotamia, and the Egyptians, Saudis, Yemenis, and British in Arabia, then (blue) defeat the British, Italians, French, Libyans, and Algerians in North Africa, then (red) press on down the White Nile, cross the Sahel, defeat the Ouaddai, Bornu, Sokoto, and slew of smaller polities. All while supply this monstrously long supply chain, and preventing full-scale rebellion and revolution not only in the conquered territories but within the Turkish core. It is an grossly ASB'd -wank, and utterly impossible. They have neither the manpower, the industrial or agricultural base, the money, the technology, the logistics, nor the willpower to do any of what you're proposing. Even with a victory in 1878 or a better situation in the Balkans, the Turks will in no way be position to have the ability to, or the want, to cross the Sahara and conquer the Sahel.

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You think the Turks will do better in the Sahel than the French, 50 years earlier? HA! The French had a hell of a time fighting their way across Africa from Dakar to Fashoda, and they had every advantage that the Turks won't in this scenario. European penetration was partially luck, and the imperialist powers pressing every advantage they had over the natives to the fullest. Those are advantages the Turks in this case simply won't have. Supplying an invasion of the Niger from Senegal or from the Ivory Coast is child's play compared to trying to supply an invasion of Chad from Anatolia.

Secondly, the Sahel, and especially the Chad region, was in no way the Turks 'traditional and nominal backyard.' The Turks had never even come anywhere near Lake Chad! Long trade routes are one thing, but you're acting as though they were positively within the Turkish sphere of influence. They were not, they never were, they never could be without a much further back POD or some serious ASB intervention.

EDIT: Jonathan Edelstein has a very good TL here, it takes an interesting POD and plays with it in a very plausible way. Trying to piggy-back on that to create some sort of ASB Turk-wank is just silly.
 
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You're being absolutely ridiculous. Even an Ottoman Empire that holds the Balkans, defeats the Russians, the French, and the British, conquers the Egyptians, and cracks down on internal dissent, somehow, cannot possibly go on a conquering spree into the Sahel - and more importantly they wouldn't to begin with.

Look at Africa and the Middle East. You're proposing that the Ottoman Turks first (green) defeat the Russians in the Balkans and Caucasus, the French, British, and Egyptians in Egypt, the Persians and British in Mesopotamia, and the Egyptians, Saudis, Yemenis, and British in Arabia, then (blue) defeat the British, Italians, French, Libyans, and Algerians in North Africa, then (red) press on down the White Nile, cross the Sahel, defeat the Ouaddai, Bornu, Sokoto, and slew of smaller polities. All while supply this monstrously long supply chain, and preventing full-scale rebellion and revolution not only in the conquered territories but within the Turkish core. It is an grossly ASB'd -wank, and utterly impossible. They have neither the manpower, the industrial or agricultural base, the money, the technology, the logistics, nor the willpower to do any of what you're proposing. Even with a victory in 1878 or a better situation in the Balkans, the Turks will in no way be position to have the ability to, or the want, to cross the Sahara and conquer the Sahel.

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You think the Turks will do better in the Sahel than the French, 50 years earlier? HA! The French had a hell of a time fighting their way across Africa from Dakar to Fashoda, and they had every advantage that the Turks won't in this scenario.

Secondly, the Sahel, and especially the Chad region, was in no way the Turks 'traditional and nominal backyard.' The Turks had never even come anywhere near Lake Chad! Long trade routes are one thing, but you're acting as though they were positively within the Turkish sphere of influence. They were not, they never were, they never could be without a much further back POD or some serious ASB intervention.

EDIT: Jonathan Edelstein has a very good TL here, it takes an interesting POD and plays with it in a very plausible way. Trying to piggy-back on that to create some sort of ASB Turk-wank is just silly.

You're just confusing and ignoring many things that I have said and confronting for the sake of confronting without any intention to find a consensus on an objective ground. You haven't managed to denounce my tidbits of information or even delivered a point in by adding so much letters and a picture in your post. Whatever has gotten onto you, either personal sentiment towards Ottoman Empire and anything related, or simply a state of mood, offers no positive contribution to the discussion. You couldn't even grasp that I wasn't even encouraging him to do Ottoman-wank, in fact it's rather the opposite, I'm pointing out that an Ottoman Egypt will may go against his possible plan for the TL's future !
 
You've stated numerous times now that the Turks could somehow defeat not only the Egyptians, and all potential challengers to such a conquest, but then go on to conquer the Eastern Sahel up to the Lake Chad Basin. Those are your words, not mine; I'm only pointing how incredibly incorrect that position is. If I lack evidence it is only because your argument is so prima facie wrong that logic alone should show you the error of your ways. I literally can not wrap my head around the idea that you think the Ottoman Turks could, or even would, press into the Sahel. I hesitate to use the word 'impossible,' but its damn near close, considering how much of a major change you would have to make not only to the Turkish Empire, her leadership, her organizational structures, her history, her economics, and her imperial goals, let alone that of all of her neighbors, that it simply boggles the mind. This is the type of argument I'd expect to see in Shared Worlds, not here.

EDIT: What you're proposing is essentially that the Turks solve all of their many problems, and all the while their potential opponents stand still, letting the Turks regrow their strength, while all their enemies either stagnate or weaken. You would have make so many different changes in the Turks' favor to render this enough remotely possible that can only be described as a wank.
 
All right, I can see things have become a bit heated. I appreciate the interest and hope all of you keep reading and commenting - your thoughts have been welcome and have helped clarify my own thinking - but maybe we can come back to the Ottoman topic when we reach the 1870s?

At the risk of throwing more gasoline on the fire, I can't quite see Egypt reverting to an Ottoman vilayet, with the most important reason being not supply lines but British distrust. I don't think the British would want to give up a measure of direct control over the Suez canal, and even if the Porte gives them assurances at the time of the takeover, who knows which faction might be in power the following year or the year after that? Not to mention that if Britain clears out and lets the Ottomans take sole charge, someone else like France (which had longstanding interests in the Maghreb and would occupy Tunisia in 1881) might try to muscle in.

Not to mention that even the Ottomans might want to retain the khedivate in order to simplify administration, mollify the Egyptian nationalists (who existed at the time although they weren't as strong as they'd become in the twentieth century) and slow the spread of nationalist ideas elsewhere in the empire. This could lead to interesting developments down the line if, for instance, Ottoman liberals hold up Egypt as a model and argue for a federalist empire. Some sort of mediated transition to a federalist personal union along Austro-Hungarian lines could have intriguing consequences and might help the Ottomans survive.

Anyway, we'll get back to all this down the line.
 
I think an additional punch the Malê movement will have outside of the Muslim world is that it isn't coming from a bunch of white people, some of whom may think of themselves as non-racist but are still thoughtlessly condescending and have a narrow cultural idea of what is good and what is bad, others of whom are quite frank in their racism and state clearly that liberal progress is for whites only. No, it's coming not just from black people, but self-liberated ex-slaves! It therefore has a lot more authority for the majority of the population on Earth, certainly for other Africans.

In this context the Islamic context actually offsets and limits some of the impact, except among people on the cusp of converting to Islam anyway; for many Africans and other Third World people, Islam is something that has been pressuring them for some time which they continue to resist, and the Rights of Man coming in an Islamic guise would actually be less acceptable to them--unless they consider the objective fact that ITTL the Malê did well at least for while; that might motivate them to separate out the Islamic content and re-relate it to their own world views.

I do think it is a bit more than late 18th century radical liberalism with Islamic flavoring; what matters is, the ideologue is not some aristocratic dilettante nor a perpetually marginal professional revolutionary but someone who actually made their revolution work, someone who came out of nowhere to wind up running a former Caliphate.

This, I think. The different thing about Malê liberalism is that it will be a partly-indigenous liberalism, but it will be indigenous to a particular part of West Africa. The Islamic components, and the tie-ins with Fulani ethics, will make it more acceptable in the Sahel and Islamic West Africa, but will simultaneously make it less acceptable among Christians and animists, as well as ethnic groups in other parts of Africa with very different cultures.

This isn't to say that Malê ideas will have no impact outside West Africa. As I've said in the past, there will be some adoption in the African diaspora, which will be attracted by the Haitian ideological heritage and the fact that the Malê originated with a New World slave revolt. Also, as you point out, the fact that they actually made good their revolution will give them some street cred - diminished, maybe, by the eventual failure of the Republic, but also enhanced by the persistence of Malê theology in the successor states and the ability of the West Africans to force a better deal from the colonialists.

By the way it's not clear to me how much "women's rights" is part of the standard packet of 19th century radical liberalism. It develops along with the progress of the liberal agenda--but because women jump onto the bandwagon and keep on insisting, against considerable resistance from within the progressive movement, that all this fine talk applies to them too. [...] Thus, Malê "feminism" does not have to be very radical or even adequately liberal by modern standards to stand out strikingly as profoundly progressive, not just compared to the traditional societies it radicalizes, but the "best" established standards of European progressivism too. In Sokoto, it is the women speaking for themselves who make sure that gets put in, and Abacar is one of those men who accepts their perspectives and issues as relevant and important with no demurral, so he integrates it.

The real feminism of the Malê movement is that we have reason to believe it will be women who advance it through crucial phases. So, adding to this already remarkably even-handed template, the Malê radical message will be infused with feminist perspective, which will be seamlessly integral with it. There may still be that dynamic of male leaders trying (often without even noticing what they are doing) to shut down women's concerns as peripheral, but they can hardly appeal to the text they are handed to emphasize the justice or necessity of doing so; the movement's basis will rather support those who rebuke these men for doing so.

This too. Note that Malê "feminism" is more than a little accidental. It wasn't part of Abacar's original plan - at most, his was the feminism of guerrilla camps, in which everyone who can be useful is used. The enhanced role of women came in because he took over a country that had been founded by a scholar who supported women's education, and who made the women in his family into trusted advisers. Their support was crucial to Abacar's legitimacy in the early stages of the Republic, so he accepted their position, and later - as he came to admire both Usman dan Fodio and the Fodio women themselves - came to believe in it. By the time his theology is actually codified, women's participation is indeed an integral part of it, and will be an enduring presence even though it will be tame by 21st-century standards.
 
Interlude: Elsewhere, 1844

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The Carlton Club, London:


Two men sat at a smoke-filled table in a dark corner of the club. One of them was a Yorkshire mill-owner who dabbled in shipping; the other was solicitor to a member of Parliament. Although the wool baron was the MP’s friend and backer, the member was not present. If he were seen having this conversation, his position, and maybe more than that, would be in danger.

“It’s dire,” the mill-owner said. “Bloody dire, and no mistake about it.”

“How so?”

“You can’t buy anything in Bonny or Lagos anymore, and the bloody bastards in Dahomey know it. Especially that filthy mulatto de Souza - he knows he’s got you, and that you’ll pay twice the price because there’s nowhere else to purchase.”

“Well, you always knew it was a risk…”

“Risk, hell! The Royal Navy’s a risk. Niggers not wanting to sell other niggers has never been a risk, not till now. My captains are telling me there’s nothing to be had for love or money east of Whydah, and my profits are down by half, maybe more.”

“All right, then, but what am I supposed to do about it? If the nigger kings aren’t selling, they aren’t selling. I’m not precisely their agent, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Maybe not, but Her Majesty’s Government seems to be this man Abacar’s agent.”

The solicitor was taken aback by the apparent non sequitur. “Who?”

“Abacar. He’s a king or chief in some nigger country up north, and he’s the one stopping the others from slave-trading. And we’re paying him to do it. I want that subsidy stopped, do you hear me?”

“Tell me,” the solicitor said evenly. “Even if my… principal were inclined to do so, what reason could he give? ‘We need to stop this Abacar, he’s discomfiting all our loyal slave-merchants?’ He’d be turned out in the next election, if he didn’t have to resign before…”

“No, you bloody fool, he doesn’t have to mention that. All he has to do is call out Abacar’s Jacobin nonsense.”

Once again, a non sequitur. “Jacobin?”

“Yes, he’s a Jacobin nigger!” The mill-baron removed a small book from the folds of his coat and slid it across the table. “One of my captains bought this in Bonny. It’s in heathen script, but I’ve had my man translate part of it.” He slid another sheet of paper across to join the pamphlet. “Here, look.”

The solicitor scanned the sheet, letting out an involuntary “Ha!” as he got to the fourth line. “He thinks God wrote the Rights of Man and Citizen?”

“Near enough. He worships those Haitians too - Toussaint and Emperor What’s-his-name. Took us twelve years to squash Napoleon, and we’re helping another Jacobin set up shop in the middle of the jungle? Is that how we want to spend the Queen’s money?”

“Maybe not,” the solicitor agreed. He stirred the book with his hand. “Can I take this to my principal?”

“You‘d damned well better.”




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Ilorin:

Ahmad Kabbah strode into the hostel’s common-room and deposited another book on another table. “Look!” he said.

“It’s a book,” answered Jibril Aminu. “It’s in the women’s writing. And I doubt very much it’s in any language I speak. What am I supposed to see?”

“Sorry,” Ahmad said, embarrassed. He’d learned some English as a slave in Salvador port, and picked up more during his frequent trips to Lagos as the Malê liaison to the British army, and he sometimes forgot that his Fulani friend couldn’t speak it. He picked the book up and read the title off the cover: An Account of Work at the Looms of Manchester, with Illustrations, by a civil Engineer.

“Where’s Manchester, and why do I care about its looms?”

“In England. I met a soldier from there when I was in Lagos last, and he told me about them - great houses with dozens of looms, turned by gears and belts and powered by a… steam engine. One weaver can run six of them at a time.”

Realization dawned in Jibril’s face. “You can make more cloth with them, like the foundries do with iron.”

“That’s it.” Ahmad flipped through the book, showing Jibril the plates. “You’re a blacksmith. Do you think we can make one? The diagrams show enough of the loom that I think I can figure out how it works.”

“We’ll probably have to make a few before we get one that’ll weave,” Jibril mused. “And I don’t see any diagrams of those steam engines.”

“We don’t need the steam engines. Rutherford - the soldier in Lagos - told me that some of the older weaving mills used water-wheels. We’ve got the Asa river right here - that can run our looms for us, if we can build them.”

“It’ll be expensive,” the Fulani said. “And we’ll need a weaver who knows what the damn thing is supposed to do. But I’ve got something saved from my foundry shares. And if we can make one that works, I think there’ll be a few others who’ll come in with us on it…”




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Desterro, Piratini (formerly Brazil):

Luis Alves de Lima e Silva, baron of Caxias, sat at yet a third table, a peace settlement in front of him and that damned Garibaldi sitting in the opposite chair. He read the opening lines of the treaty for what he was sure was the hundredth time. It was no good: the words weren’t about to change.

“It all seems in order,” he said. “And now, I suppose I have no choice.”

Garibaldi, damn him, was at least gracious enough not to reply. He sat, waiting, as Caxias did the hardest thing he’d ever been called upon to do: scrawl his name in the appointed place.

How is it that I can win all the battles and still lose the damned war? he asked himself. And he had won all the battles. None of the rebel armies - the cabanos, the Sabinada, the Balaida, or even these farroupilhas in the south - had ever been able to match him in a stand-up fight. He’d chased them all over the countryside, taken their cities, won famous victories - even won himself a title with the capture of Caxias - but that hadn’t been enough. They’d harassed him from mountains and jungles, and when he was called away to put out some other fire, they’d come out and occupied their cities all over again. It was like Hercules and the hydra, and he’d had no torch to hand.

The final straw had come with the liberals’ rebellion in Minas Gerais and São Paulo. Four rebellions at a time could perhaps be handled; five could not. The Emperor faced a choice between admitting defeat and losing Grão Pará and Piratini, or fighting on and losing Rio. It was galling to surrender to ragamuffins who’d never been able to beat the imperial army, but the choice between losing a leg and losing one’s head was no choice at all.

If there was one day in Brazil’s history he could change, it would be January 24, 1835. That had been the day this time of troubles started: the day the Malê rose in revolt in Salvador. They’d been bought out and shipped off, but that too hadn’t been enough. Caxias idly wondered what they were doing now: causing trouble in someone else’s bailiwick, no doubt.

But the past couldn’t be changed, and neither could the present. Pará was gone. Santa Catarina and Rio Grande do Sul were gone. Maranhão might be better off gone, with the amnestied rebels and planters’ militias in a shooting war that bid fair to go on for generations. Bahia and Pernambuco were safe for now, but how many times would the emperor have to reconquer them? He suspected that he might learn the answer to that question far better than he might like.

Caxias rose from the table, looking out the window to the city that was no longer his emperor’s domain. Garibaldi remained seated and, again, said nothing. Damn the man to hell.


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Along the eastern shore of Lake Chad:

An illuminated Koran lay on a fourth table, and Mamadou Kashim’s head was bent low over it. He swayed up and down as he recited God’s ninety-nine names, the end of any Sufi’s prayers. The Compassionate, the Merciful, the King, the Holy, the Peacemaker…

This was the time when the ecstasy of prayer was tempered with the knowledge that prayer must end. A man could not live without praying, but he also should not pray all the time: he must sanctify himself with marriage, work, teaching. So he would go to join Khadija in the garden, help to cultivate the food that would sustain this village, and afterward teach the children who had been sent here for guidance.

The Everlasting, the Inheritor, the Guide, the Patient. He remained still for a moment until his mind cleared, took his cane from the floor, and slowly stood to make his way outside.

There were others already in the garden, working together, dressed simply as the Master had taught. Mamadou knew that there were some who called them haram and compared them to the Ethiop monks. But there were no monks here. This was not a fortress of celibate clerics who withdrew from the world; it was a community of people who lived in the world as it was meant to be, far from the constant rebellions of provincial governors and the struggle between the mai and the shehu for control of the court. This was a place where men and women could pray and contemplate God as they raised their families in peace.

Then he heard a noise at the end of the village street, saw the horsemen, and knew that their peace had ended.

Ouaddai soldiers, from the look of them – at least a company’s worth. The mai had friends in the Ouaddai court, and lately he’d invited raiders in to help him against the shehu rather than using his army to fight them. The people in this place bore no ill will toward the mai, but the Master had the shehu’s favor – and that, evidently, was enough for the raiders to believe they had free license.

Already, some of them were throwing torches at houses as they rode into the village. They would have no mercy – the soldiers of Ouaddai never did.

“Run!” he shouted to the gardeners. “Take the children and flee!” He saw a few of them look up in confusion and then realize their danger; men and women snatched up children and ran for the boats on the lakeshore. Khadija looked back at him imploringly, but he shook his head: he was far too slow to follow.

Mamadou stood in the center of the street, facing the Ouaddai captain empty-handed. He inhaled the cinnamon stick that Khadija had hung around his head that morning, and closed his eyes.

The captain’s sword came down.
 
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David Marsden, The Colonial Century: Britain’s Strange Career in Africa (London: Macmillan, 1990)


… History, or so the saying goes, repeats itself: the first time as tragedy, the second time as farce. If so, the “Abacar Affair” of 1844-45 got things in reverse order. The farce happened first, the tragedy later.

The affair began when the MP for Knaresborough rose to question the Prime Minister about exactly why the Government was supporting a “jungle Jacobin” in his efforts to bring the Reign of Terror to darkest Africa. He read out excerpts of Paulo Abacar’s theological treatise Hurriya (Freedom) which had been translated - and in many cases mistranslated - to give the appearance of a Robespierre. In a nation which was still undergoing the social upheaval of the industrial revolution, and which Chartist agitation was growing by the day, the attack struck a chord, and the Government was rocked on its heels trying to justify the Sokoto subsidy.

What the honorable Member likely did not expect was that someone who had actually known Abacar would rise to his defense. That person was Richard Alexander, a retired infantry major who’d been lent to the Portuguese army during the Peninsular War. He remembered Abacar a good deal better than he did most of the other rankers - a black sergeant with Fulani scars, while not unique, was a striking figure - and knew him as a brave and effective soldier. He’d also heard good reports of Abacar’s current campaign against the slave trade in his youngest son’s letters home. In January 1845, a letter from him appeared in the Times, ridiculing the notion that Abacar was a Robespierre and noting that the Sokoto Republic was doing the Royal Navy’s work in suppressing the slave traffic. “If this is a ‘jungle Jacobin,’” he wrote, “we need more of them, not less.”

The anti-slavery movement was quick to jump on the bandwagon. The exotic figure of Abacar - a man who’d won free from slavery to fight under Wellington (or near enough, at any rate) and take the war against the slave trade to the enemy - was too good to pass up. A penny-dreadful publisher sympathetic to the abolitionists rounded up a number of old soldiers who claimed to know Abacar (few if any of them did) and published their stories of his exploits (almost all apocryphal) under the title The Black Hero of Spain. The opposite side responded with a pamphlet of their own, entitled The Terror of Africa, accusing Abacar’s forces of mass atrocities including the rape and murder of white women.

Passions ran high on both sides of the question, but on the whole, public opinion swung in Sokoto’s favor. At the height of the controversy, Punch published a cartoon showing a caricatured black figure in a redcoat uniform on one side (never mind that he’d fought for the Portuguese) and on the other, the same figure wearing a loincloth and a bone through his nose. The caption read: “YOUNGER ABACAR TO OLDER ABACAR: Hullo there, I see you’re still serving the Queen even though you’ve changed your uniform!” [1] That, in time, became an accurate summary of popular sentiment.

Buoyed by the pro-Abacar feeling, the Government was able to defuse the crisis by deferring the next subsidy payment for six months and appointing a commission to study the question. The commissioners’ report ultimately recommended that the subsidy be continued with a slight reduction in the interest of economy, which recommendation was duly adopted.

Thus the farce ended, much as it began. In the process, however, the affair accomplished two things: it made the British public aware of a place called Sokoto, and it pushed the Government closer to developing a coherent Africa policy.


[1] If anyone can do this for me, I’d be eternally grateful.
 
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Thanks for those dazzling and utterly convincing interludes.

A bit more of this South America would be great, if you could manage it?
 
Thanks for those dazzling and utterly convincing interludes.

A bit more of this South America would be great, if you could manage it?

There will definitely be more of South America. Keep an eye on Grão Pará, where the successful Cabanagem forces are now locked in a struggle between the peasants, freedmen and slaves who want a true revolutionary state, and the middle-class farmers and town merchants who just wanted a government closer to home. Like many peasant revolts, the Cabanagem was led by members of the middle class, and its leaders had different goals from many of the troops.

And once the rubber boom gets started - complete with foreign powers and concessionaires trying to co-opt or bypass the weak Grão Pará government in order to set up shop in the Amazon - then things will become truly chaotic.

There may also be some events of interest coming out of Piratini, where, as we have seen, Garibaldi is residing for the time being.
 
Thanks for those dazzling and utterly convincing interludes.

A bit more of this South America would be great, if you could manage it?

I'm thinking Jonathan would probably be stuck with developing it in great detail eventually, because sooner or later the Malê movement, or at any rate something clearly and closely related to it, will spread not only to African neighbors of Sokoto but back to Brazil, where it had its roots! If it hasn't already. Future rebellions and radical movements in Brazil and however many states hive off of it, and even Spanish-speaking neighboring countries and the various colonies of the northeast coast--the Guianas, essentially--will pick up both ideas and rhetoric from it.

It could be that these will have exactly the same impact the actual rebellions and movements of OTL did, but it seems likely at least some of them will pick up something extra that has some striking effect, especially if some of these movements are happening in republics (or kingdoms, whatever) that didn't exist, or not as recognized states, OTL, that owe their very existence to the greater success of these rebellions as shown already above. For some of these states, the new Malê-inspired stuff might be rebellions to renew their original national purposes after they perhaps slip into despotism, or even in others a patriotic revival of a people who feel that on the whole they did succeed in holding on to their purposes. And these will in turn inspire yet more trouble for the more despotic regimes more familiar to OTL, unless some of these have indeed incorporated the traditions of Abacar and Garibaldi and are thus either less despotic in fact, or at least pay patriotic lip service to the radical Rights of Man.

So at some point Jonathan must revisit South America and survey the states that exist there ITTL, to trace the spread of the Malê-inspired stuff there.

So I just bet he's tracking it as it happens and we probably will have more updates and interludes on South America.

Now I'm thinking of the other interludes, notably what might happen in Europe and the USA. We already see Britain starting to coalesce a policy toward Africa. In France, well we've already had it foretold that France will find some checks on the ground in West Africa, will therefore still have some presence there but less than OTL (and a lot less in the Sahel). Some of these "checks" might not actually be in Africa though, but in domestic politics in France. If Abacarism is as interesting and inspiring as say the sufferings of Ireland were to left-wing romantics, if it seems relevant and important enough to various progressive theorists, if there are movements arising from it that European populist interests like trade unionists might find it practical to ally with--then West African radicalism might enter the vocabulary of radicals across the board. French leaders in particular might find African colonialism a bit more problematic politically, a bit less of an enticement and distraction and more of a hot potato, than OTL. When the tide of radicalism rises, probably still around 1848 since we can expect relatively little change in the basic momentum of European economics and politics as of yet, existing projects (I forget for instance whether the current Orleanist monarchy of Louis Phillipe has already founded colonies in Algeria, I think by this late date he must have--just glanced at Wikipedia, I could see before the blackout that the first colonization was in fact 1830)--well, there might be some sentiment to actually abandon them, or at the very least to seriously liberalize them.

Perhaps the French would even consider being more accepting of an Islamic frame in North African possessions as an acceptable way of integrating them into a French-controlled system, if it is a Malê-influenced Islamic law they are talking about. When France is a Republic--who knows, the Second Republic might last in this case--Marx would say no, it can't, but maybe this is where Marx is wrong?--there should be no problem about adopting the American idea of separation of church and state, and the Republic being formally secular, with citizens free to follow whatever faith they have while the law is scrupulously framed in terms of rational policy without appeal to divine sanction.

We might have the prospect of French colonization of North Africa being more limited in territorial scope (due to the cumulative effect of less enthusiasm and more resistance in France itself, coupled with greater powers of resistance on the African side) but with what territory it does claim becoming more and more integrated into the French system, under the aegis of a secular Republic. If we can't butterfly away France's various monarchies, this would break up the secular integument since monarchs generally do appeal to some particular religion for their authority--however Louis Bonaparte OTL actually thought the idea of being accepted as a king on Islamic terms by the North Africans would be quite romantic, and last time I looked into the colonial history of Algeria it did seem that the Second Empire was a time when Napoleon III's despotic rule did amount to more balance and consideration for the native Algerians, presumably because as a despot Louis Napoleon could adjust policy on a case-by-case basis rather than articulate a clear and universal law. So something like the Second Empire might merely suspend the acceptance of Malê-influenced Islamic Republicanism. Then assuming said Empire shipwrecks itself (the Franco-Prussian War as such might well be butterflied, but it seems likely to me that rather creaky and cronyist ship of state must run aground somewhere eventually, upon Louis's death if not before) and there is a Third Republic, keeping control of Algeria might well require coming to terms with Islamic republicanism there; asserting as OTL that Algeria is "integral" to the French Republic would imply much wider suffrage, probably universal manhood suffrage on equal terms to metropolitan France. With Algerians having such a stake in the French state without having to abandon Islam, they might indeed develop the attitude they are indeed integral citizens of a greater France, and masters of their own house in North Africa too.

Such an Algeria could turn around and actually extend the scope of French conquests in North Africa, to match and conceivably exceed those OTL, at least until it runs into checks in the form of other African states that also stand on a firmer domestic state than OTL, with sufficient integration of European methods to both win diplomatic respect from European powers and keep better pace with technological development. Or alternatively colonies of other European powers (I'm looking at you, Britain!) that are for parallel reasons stronger and perhaps more loyal to their imperial patron than OTL, and therefore not likely to succumb. But whenever a republicanized, France-identified Algerian/broader North African expansion meets weaker, less radicalized African lands, whether nominally independent or under some European patronage closer to OTL patterns, I think it has a good chance of winning over the populace and incorporating yet more African land into the French system--provided, that the French do indeed accept Islamic North Africans as their fellow citizens.

Alternatively, come 1871 or so, the French might recoil at the implications of true unity with these North Africans, but they'd still have to face the fact that they can't just run roughshod over them so easily, and partition off the colonies, not adopting the OTL fiction of integral incorporation but creating some separate identity--one where they must always either concede more and more power and authority to the Africans or face the certainty of rebellion. In that case I'd expect the territory under nominal French control to stay stunted, and even so for France to constantly be at risk of losing control of even that.

I don't mean to suggest this exhausts all alternatives! It could be for instance that the Malê perspective on Islam finds little traction among North Africans, since West African Islam follows a different tradition, and Algeria and Tunisia are colonized much as OTL. I'd still expect, somewhat less and more slowly, because of more resistance from the French Left, but not as much as if those leftists were finding real live allies among the North Africans as they might if Malê Republicanism really took off there. But perhaps and in essence, France winds up running much the same territory on much the same terms as OTL north of the Sahara, and faces the same mess in the 20th century that is resolved in essentially the same way.

Or of course sheer butterflies might scramble the patchwork of European power projection onto North Africa, with or without significant local Malê-inspired movements; we might see Italy (starting early under say Savoy or some other regime that would later wind up incorporated into Italy) getting some of what was OTL French territory, or even Austria-Hungary, or a revived Spain, or the British getting a foothold somewhere west of Egypt. Except insofar as Malê influence does make a difference in the consciousness and development of the North Africans themselves, or conceivably does transform the Ottoman state (I never understood why the possibility of the Ottomans regaining territory to the west of Egypt, even if blocked from regaining Egypt itself, was excluded, though certainly it could be awkward--but might not Libya, say, prefer to come back under Ottoman authority if it were more impressive than OTL, rather than succumb to Italian conquest) I'd think the OTL division of spoils probably is a close guide to what to expect. But there would surely be some mixing up of the exact borders and even shifting of spheres of influence relative to OTL, just from sheer chaos.

What I expect this timeline to focus on is the cascading of effects that do trace back visibly to the Malê themselves; the foreshadowing focuses on lands that historically have some relation to West Africa--Africa itself, and the diaspora in the Americas. It isn't clear to me just where the boundaries of major influence will be in the Islamic world, whether it formulates republican anti-colonialsm in a form so universal to Islam that it surely would create responses north of the Sahara, or whether it is so distinctively West African that it would be as exotic in Tunis as in Dublin.
 
I wonder if we'll see copies of Hurriya in the hands of American slaves. They'd no doubt be inspired by the Male example.

This cold also be a big boost to the recolonization movement, using the Male as an example of what can be accomplished.
 
I wonder if we'll see copies of Hurriya in the hands of American slaves. They'd no doubt be inspired by the Male example.

This cold also be a big boost to the recolonization movement, using the Male as an example of what can be accomplished.

Many African-Americans will definitely be inspired by the Malê. For the most part, the Malê influence will come after slavery, but at least some word will filter through during the slave era, possibly through abolitionists with British connections. (And yes, abolitionism will be strengthened, but also opposition to abolitionism - some among the pro-slavery faction will argue that emancipation would lead to a "black republic").

And you're right about the recolonization movement - I've stated in earlier posts that it will include not only a larger contingent of settlers for Liberia and Sierra Leone but a French project in Gabon (as opposed to the one-shot settlement of freed slaves in Libreville that occurred in OTL). There won't be that much more recolonization - it's expensive, and most of the freedmen have put down roots where they are - but there will be enough to change Liberian and Sierra Leonese politics considerably.
 
I'm thinking Jonathan would probably be stuck with developing it in great detail eventually, because sooner or later the Malê movement, or at any rate something clearly and closely related to it, will spread not only to African neighbors of Sokoto but back to Brazil, where it had its roots!

Most definitely. At this point in the timeline, very few Brazilians know what became of the Malê, and even fewer of them care - as far as the planter aristocracy is concerned, the Malê were a bunch of troublemakers who got shipped off to Africa, and good riddance to them. In time, though - in fact, within a relatively short time, now that the Malê have shut down half the Slave Coast and become a British political football - the word will spread. And once it does, local revolutionists and other political movements will be inspired. I've pointed you to Grão Pará already; another region to watch is Pernambuco and Bahia, where the slave population is largest and many slaves live in cities where they will have greater access to information.

The southern republic of Piratini will be liberal, but in the more traditional Western sense - assuming, that is, that it can avoid being incorporated into Argentina.

Future rebellions and radical movements in Brazil and however many states hive off of it, and even Spanish-speaking neighboring countries and the various colonies of the northeast coast--the Guianas, essentially--will pick up both ideas and rhetoric from it.

Keep an eye on Bolivia and Paraguay, both with very large indigenous populations that are incompletely Christianized and resentful of the racial caste system. Some of them may become Islamized instead - in the Bolivian case, a very syncretic sort of Islam. There's no God but Pachamama and Mohammed is Her prophet - that sort of thing.

For some of these states, the new Malê-inspired stuff might be rebellions to renew their original national purposes after they perhaps slip into despotism, or even in others a patriotic revival of a people who feel that on the whole they did succeed in holding on to their purposes. And these will in turn inspire yet more trouble for the more despotic regimes more familiar to OTL, unless some of these have indeed incorporated the traditions of Abacar and Garibaldi and are thus either less despotic in fact, or at least pay patriotic lip service to the radical Rights of Man.

You'll also see some "people's republic" analogues, in which the government claims to honor the Rights of Man while trampling on it, but the ideals will be there and will run through the dissident movements during times of despotism.

In France, well we've already had it foretold that France will find some checks on the ground in West Africa, will therefore still have some presence there but less than OTL (and a lot less in the Sahel). Some of these "checks" might not actually be in Africa though, but in domestic politics in France [...] French leaders in particular might find African colonialism a bit more problematic politically, a bit less of an enticement and distraction and more of a hot potato, than OTL. When the tide of radicalism rises, probably still around 1848 since we can expect relatively little change in the basic momentum of European economics and politics as of yet, existing projects... well, there might be some sentiment to actually abandon them, or at the very least to seriously liberalize them.

I don't see that early an effect on colonial ideology. In the 1840s, the Malê are anti-slavery, not anti-colonial - they can't be against something that doesn't really exist yet - and will develop their anti-colonial credentials later in the century. What I had in mind for the French post-1848 was to sponsor a Liberian-style resettlement program in Gabon for the freedmen in the Caribbean colonies. Later on, especially in the areas that become integral parts of the French state, the Malê will influence the anti-colonial movements there (which were strong in OTL and which will be strong in a somewhat different way in the ATL).

Your thoughts on Algeria are interesting. It actually seems like fertile ground - the dominant madhab is Maliki, and Sufi-based religious movements were part of the anti-colonial resistance in OTL. (The French colonial authorities supported orthodoxy as a check against Sufism, much as the present Algerian government is supporting Sufism as a counterweight against fundamentalist orthodoxy. Plus ça change.) So if Malê theology filters through, it might take hold. It will, of course, face opposition from both rival Sufi orders and from orthodox elites - keep in mind that the parts of Africa that the French will control are the ones where reactionary Islam will dominate, at least at first

There are several possible ways the French could react. Embracing Islamic republicanism as the acceptable alternative is, as you say, one such way, and it could lead either to greater integration or earlier support for independence. Another option is to suppress Islamic republicanism and foster orthodoxy as they did in OTL, and if they choose this path, they'll have the support of many of the anti-Malê theologians. I haven't yet decided which way it will go - I'll let things develop naturally, and by the time we get there, I should know. Portuguese and Spanish Africa, and whatever parts may be taken by fifth countries, are also unknowns at this point, although I have a few ideas.

What I expect this timeline to focus on is the cascading of effects that do trace back visibly to the Malê themselves; the foreshadowing focuses on lands that historically have some relation to West Africa--Africa itself, and the diaspora in the Americas.

This is so. I don't plan to re-create the world in exhaustive detail - I admire those with the time and the discipline to do that, but I have neither. I'm planning to concentrate primarily on West Africa, and secondarily on other areas directly affected by the Malê and their offshoots - we'll hear from the rest of the world on occasion, but much of the action there will take place offstage.
 
For a Rainy Day

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Sokoto

September 1845


“Look!” Aisha said, motioning Paulo toward the sheet of paper. Her fingers played over the colored-chalk illustration of the power looms that Ahmed Kabbah had set up on the Asa river, following the shaft that led from the water-wheel, tracing the belts that connected the shaft to the gearing, making a zigzag over the finished cloth.

Paulo, truth be told, was more than a little fascinated himself. The looms were something different from the foundries that had grown up in Sokoto and other cities. The foundries made ironwork cheaper and more efficient – everything was done in one place, there were standard patterns for sand-casting, and purpose-built channels and pulleys to get the molten metal from furnace to crucible and from crucible to mold – but it ultimately worked on manual labor. The looms, on the other hand, were machines, using water to replace muscle; in the illustration, a single weaver worked four of them at once, letting the river drive the shuttles while he fed them with yarn.

“A hundred of those could clothe the city!” Aisha marveled.

“A hundred could, maybe, but there won’t be a hundred of them for a long time. João tells me that they’re very expensive, and it takes a long time to build one. Look how many gears there are – they have to be made very precisely, and the blacksmith has to make them one at a time.”

“Can they make the parts in the foundries?”

“Some of them, yes. All the parts are different, though, and you’d need dozens of patterns – it wouldn’t be easy to make, and the foundry couldn’t mold all the parts at once.”

“Build a bigger foundry, then. Or a better one. I hear that one of the foundry-masters borrowed Kabbah’s idea, and linked three crucibles with a shaft so one person can pour three molds at the same time.”

Paulo laughed. “Not a bad idea. I’d love to have a hundred foundries and a thousand looms. But where’s the money going to come from? This Kabbah’s raised enough to build four looms, but he doesn’t have enough for a hundred or a thousand. The whole Republic doesn’t have enough for a thousand.”

“So…”

“A few this year, a few more the next. Little by little, as the money permits.” He let out a sharp bark. “Money!”

She sensed the change in his mood. “What about it, love?”

“I do nothing but fight over it, that’s what! I came here to fight slavers, but I spend most of my time quarreling over taxes and budgets, trying to pay my soldiers and my teachers, wondering if that damned British subsidy will come this year…”

“We’d have done well enough this year, if it hadn’t been for the rebellion.”

“If it hadn’t been for that.” But Aisha was right: in the areas where the Republic had been able to collect taxes, it had done so much more effectively than under the old tribute system, and the growing volume of foundry output and long-distance trade meant that there was more to tax. But with half the cities fighting him through much of the year, and two still out of his control, and the British parliamentary commission still wrapping up its work, and soldiers threatening to mutiny if they weren’t paid…

He trailed off, deflated, grateful that he was with someone who would let him forget pulaaku for a few moments.

“I didn’t expect it to be like this, when I started. I was leading an army, and I thought it would be that simple – point it at the slave-traders and shoot. But there’s so much more to ruling a country. With an army, you know who you’re fighting. Here, everyone wants something different, and too damned many of them look out for themselves before their fellows…”

“You’ve done well, love. God is with you still.”

“Not well enough. How can I be doing well enough, when everything I do to help one person hurts another?”

Aisha reached out and touched his hand, knowing that this was what really troubled him. “As a soldier, too, you sometimes need to send other soldiers to die if you want to win the battle…”

“I know.” And he did. The greatest good for the greatest number was something every military leader, from corporal to general, knew in his bones, and every soldier knew he would sometimes have to do things that would cause others to be wounded or killed. “But in the army, if you were shot, they’d take you to the surgeons. What kind of surgeon can help when there are blacksmiths put out of work by the foundries, and the zakat coffers are empty? What can I say to them when they accuse me of betrayal, other than to own myself rightly condemned?”

“You can do what you’re doing – find them jobs on the roads…” She left the sentence unfinished, knowing it wasn’t enough.

Paulo stood a long moment in silence. “I’m going up on the roof for a while.”

“But it’s raining.”

“It will cleanse me.” He climbed the ladder to the rooftop, and after a moment, she followed, letting the warm rain drench her gown as it did his robe. He looked out over the city, his back turned to her, and although she couldn’t see his face, she sensed that there were tears mingled with the rain.

“Come to me,” she said. It seemed, for a second, that he didn’t hear her, but then he turned and let her take him in her arms; let her, this one time, be stronger than he.
 
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Ahmadu Odubogun, Faith and Ferment: The Sahel and Sudan in the Nineteenth Century (Ibadan Univ. Press 2005)


… The aftermath of the 1844-45 tax rebellion presented the Republic with a fundamental question of governance. The disunity of the anti-tax forces, and the Republic’s victory in the field, meant that the direct taxation law would be implemented. But if matters were otherwise returned to the status quo ante, with each city ruled by its own autonomous government, obstruction from municipal officials might well render it impossible to collect the taxes in many parts of the country.

To forestall this, Abacar chose to impose centralized rule. Like many other things in the Republic, this was done piecemeal. He knew that he could never secure a majority in the governing council for a centralized government, and that, unlike the direct taxation program, centralization was not popular enough on the assembly-field for him to justifiably override the council’s opposition. Thus, at first, centralization was a military measure: by insisting, as part of the terms of surrender, that rebellious cities cede him the right to appoint their governors, he was able to go over the heads of the civil government.

Thus, at the beginning of 1846, after the surrender of Kontagora and Gwandu, the Republic was divided into formerly-rebellious cities under direct rule, and loyal cities which retained their separate emirates or oligarchic councils. As the year drew on, however, the governors of the directly ruled cities began to replace their representatives on the national council. The new representatives, quite naturally, tended to be pro-Abacar and pro-centralist, and after the rains, Abacar was able to push through legislation that expanded the direct rule system to the entire country.

There would be no new rebellions; the country was tired of civil war, and Abacar mollified the rulers of the loyal cities by appointing them as governors. He also assured them that a portion of the revenue collected from their domains, albeit less than they’d been accustomed to taking, would be earmarked for local use. Nevertheless, the new governors had to swallow a considerable loss of power and prestige, and many of the traditional elites who’d supported the Republic thus far became increasingly alienated.

This tendency increased with two more major reforms. In December 1846, the governing council, acting at Abacar’s urging, appointed a panel to draft a uniform code of law for the Republic. The commission included a number of traditional lawgivers - emirs, Islamic scholars and district headmen - but it also included army officers and even members of the rising industrial-merchant class. And the following month, the Republic opened its own, state-sponsored Islamic academy, gathering many of Abacar’s supporters among the imamate into a single powerful institution.

These reforms, enacted by a council that many saw as unfairly packed with Abacar’s supporters, fueled a growing legitimacy crisis, and Abacar himself was uncomfortable with how unrepresentative the council had become. The solution was the election of 1847, the only one that the First Republic was to hold.

The legislature dissolved itself in April and the election was scheduled for May, in the hope that the rains - which would begin soon after - would quell any tendency to dispute the results. Several factions emerged during the run-up to the voting. One, of course, consisted of Abacar’s supporters. Opposing them were several conservative factions, ranging from moderates who approved of Abacar’s reforms but wanted to go slower to traditonal monarchists and religiously inspired reactionaries. There was also a radical faction, small but with significant support in the army and among young marabouts inspired by Abacar’s theology, which viewed the reforms as not going far enough; some of them urged Abacar to emulate Dessalines rather than simply venerating him, and to ruthlessly smite his enemies. And finally, there were independent candidates whose agendas were purely local and who were willing to ally with any national faction that would support their districts’ interests.

The campaign was, for the most part, orderly, in part because most of the districts weren’t very competitive. The results in rural areas were a foregone conclusion: the great majority of citizens would vote as their headmen told them, often with the headmen themselves as candidates. In areas where the elites remained co-opted or where respect for the Fodio family remained strong, the representatives would be from the Abacarist faction; in the others, members of various opposition groupings were destined to win.

In the cities, the army and the Islamic schools, opinions were more sharply divided, and there, disputes between candidates and their supporters sometimes turned into pitched battles. With Abacar being what he was, the issues in the election were as much theological as political, and nearly every Islamic teacher faced pressure to choose a side. Even the jajis, who both Abacar and Nana Asma’u agreed should be shielded from secular politics, were often drawn into electoral discussions in the villages where they taught, and for the first time, the more outspoken ones sometimes found themselves unwelcome.

The election took place on May 15, 1847. There were few surprises, and the main one was procedural: no one had thought to exclude women from voting. Few of them actually did - the Fodios and the jajis taught that women should be valued, but that they should nevertheless keep their place - but some made their way to the assembly-fields along with the men, and their votes were accepted along with the others.

When the dust cleared, Abacar’s faction controlled about 40 percent of the new legislature, with the conservatives holding another third, the radicals five to seven percent, and the independents the rest. Although the Abacarists lacked a majority, they faced a disunited opposition, and in most cases, would be able to persuade or purchase enough of the independents to carry their agenda. More importantly, dissent had been allowed to work itself out through the campaign, much of the legitimacy crisis had abated, and some of the local elites had made up for their loss of municipal authority by winning a share of power in the capital.

The remainder of 1847 and 1848 were, in consequence, something of a breathing space. In late 1847, Sokoto’s first secular secondary school opened, and its first newspaper - in mixed Arabic and Roman writing - was published. The economy continued to grow, led by the foundries and the nascent textile industry, and tax revenues increased to the point where the government could recruit a burgeoning civil service. The tax bureaucracy and public works projects absorbed many of the displaced workers, and since industrial growth was far slower than in European countries at comparable stages of development, it seemed likely that future displacement could be kept to a rate that the economy could handle.

Few storm clouds were on the foreign horizon, as well. To the west, El Hadj Umar Tall had risen to power among the Toucouleur and was expanding his domains along the western Niger, but he was still too far from Sokoto to threaten the Republic’s borders. Adamawa was still consolidating the gains it had made in the 1840-41 war, the three buffer cities were friendly, and the Yoruba city-states’ bid to federate was bogged down in the obas’ endless bickering over precedence. In Bornu, Umar ibn Muhammad al-Amin had defeated the mai’s attempt to seize sole power and now ruled as sultan; his energies were absorbed by making reparations to the quasi-monastic communities the mai had persecuted and expelling the Ouaddai troops who still controlled much of the east.

For a year or two, it seemed that the Republic might find its feet.

 
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