Linking the Histories of Slavery in North America

Linking the Histories of Slavery in North America & its Borderlands INTRODUCTION: DRAFT Bonnie Martin and James F. Brooks “A Delaware trader, in 1850, brought into the settlements [in Central Texas] two negro girls which he had obtained from the Comanches. It appeared that they had been with a number of Seminole negroes who attempted to cross the Plains to join Wild Cat [a Seminole chief] upon the Rio Grande. The party had been intercepted by the Indians, and every one, with the exception of these two girls, put to death. They were taken to the camp, where the most inhuman barbarities were perpetrated upon them. Among other fiendish atrocities, the savages scraped through their skin into the flesh, believing that beneath the cuticle the flesh was black like the color upon the exterior. They burned them with live coals to ascertain whether fire produced the same sensations of pain as with their own people, and tried various other experiments which were attended with most acute torture. The poor girls were shockingly scarred and mutilated when I saw them." R.B. Marcy, Thirty Years' of Army Life on the Border1 Ask any audience to picture slavery in North America in 1850, and this is not the scene most will imagine. In their minds, slavery’s story unfolds on cotton plantations in southern states east of or close to the Mississippi River—an image recently reinforced by the powerful film based on the life of Solomon Northup.2 African Americans are sweating in cotton fields in the brooding presence of white overseers and sadistic owners. The cast of characters that populate the typical dramas of slavery are not mutilated Negro girls purchased from Comanche captors by a Delaware Indian trader. The essays that follow add more unexpected scenes to the stories of bondage in North America and question standard assumptions about how slavery worked. One of our goals is to broaden the perspective—especially in college classrooms—from that single narrative of commercial slavery in the decades before the Civil War to a continental epic that stretches across centuries, from the days before the Europeans arrived to the anguish 1 suffered under methods of coercion that continue into the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. The following essays showcase less familiar slave systems and less recognizable consequences of slavery. We want to place the dynamics of Euro-American plantation slavery into a broader collection of histories of slavery in North America and its borderlands, striking a balance between identifying the differences in indigenous and exogenous slave systems while also showing the patterns of coercion these systems shared.3 This provides a sense of the trajectory of slavery and human trafficking on the continent from before European contact to the present. The disturbing scene described by Randolph B. Marcy is a one starting point. Marcy was a U.S. Army officer and explorer who traveled widely in Indian frontiers from Florida to Utah in the decade before the Civil War.4 He gives us a glimpse of the intersection of multiple slaving cultures in North America, and in his account we find the kinds of questions this volume addresses. For example, what were African Americans doing on the plains? Why were they searching for Wild Cat, a Seminole chieftain, and why was he on the Rio Grande and not on the allotted Oklahoma reservation? The essays show that overlapping slave trades spurred migration across the western half of the continent, just as slaving networks moved peoples across the eastern half, the Atlantic Ocean, and Africa.5 In the Marcy incident, we encounter Seminoles trying to escape to sanctuary in Mexico from the forced exodus that brought them from Florida to Oklahoma. The Delaware Indian trader belonged to a group that itself was pushed out of its homelands after the Europeans arrived. He bought Negro slave girls trafficked across the plains by Comanches. The Negro girls traveling with them were descended from Africans also forced to migrate, and the Comanches were voluntary migrants who chose to leave the Great Basin in order to take advantage of the new horse technology brought by the Spaniards. They used those horses to make themselves powerful and wealthy by raiding and trading for slaves, by using 2 female slave labor to process hides for the American market, and in time, Mexican boys to manage the vast herds of cattle they plundered from Chihuahua and Durango. The essays reveal patterns of slavery hidden in the event Marcy described, What Marcy missed was at least as important as what he could observe. For example, the essays by Eric Bowne and Paul Conrad show that a variety of slaving and enslaved peoples were migrating along links in cross-cultural slave trading networks. Some, like the Apaches, were forcibly exiled to Cuba. Some fled slavers, like the fragments of Carolina Indian groups who later would join together and become the Catawbas. Others, like the Eerie Indians displaced by Iroquois raiders and traders from New York, were pursuing those trying to escape. Many, like the Choctaws of Mississippi and Alabama, were both slavers and victims of slavers.6 We hope our readers will come to understand that episodes like the one Marcy documented happened over and over again, as the demand for slaves in North America pulled captives and captors across the continent and into Caribbean islands like Cuba, Jamaica, and Barbados—the marine borderlands of North America. Marcy’s journal entry reflects other patterns of slavery common in North America and around the globe. One recurring feature is that in this raid the men are killed, while young females are taken captive. Although boys and men would come to be the preferred commodity in the trans-Atlantic trade and at times in the Southwest borderlands, the capture and abuse of Negro girls shows a continuation of the ancient focus on enslaving and exploiting women and children, a pattern that continues to stain our own time. Catherine Cameron chronicles how indigenous peoples placed great social and economic value on the capture and forced incorporation of women and children in the pre-Columbian period. When Europeans and Africans arrived, the demographics of slavery in North America shifted suddenly to a preference 3 for male slaves and then to one that was more gender-neutral.7 After emancipation, we see a return trend to the exploitation of women and children, sexually and economically.8 Tragically, coercion remained a prominent part of the human experience in the twentieth century, as it does in the twenty-first. Violence and abuse, especially of women and children, continues to add new faces and places to the histories of slavery in North America. The essays by Sarah Deer and Melissa Farley document the painful experiences of children sexually abused in Indian schools, Native American prostitutes in Minneapolis, and women trapped in the legal and illegal brothels across Nevada. Their work adds data from North America that replicates patterns found around the globe—in places like Somalia and Indonesia, for example. There, until recently, young women and children were forced by the state into marriages with both free and enslaved men.9 Deer and Farley push us into that nether zone between coercion and consent. What legacies of North American slave systems can we identify, and how do we distinguish between social conditions that are the product of past slavery and the condition of slavery itself? The interplay between the oppression and absorption of captives is another of the most persistent characteristics of slavery across time and space. Marcy portrays the Comanches as ignorant barbarians who kept two Negro girls alive for the curiosity and the thrill of torture, and then sold them as chattels to another Indian slave trader. But note that Marcy only saw the girls after the branding and torture. Was this gratuitous violence? Were the Comanches mimicking the practice of slave-branding so common in the Deep South? Had the girls tried to escape or resist the demands of their captors? Could this also be evidence that Comanches were testing the suitability of the girls for incorporation into the group? How often were captives fully accepted into Indian communities? For example, how many of the “Seminole negroes” slaughtered by the Comanches had been full-fledged Seminoles, and how many were slaves traveling with their 4 Seminole owners? The historiography of recent decades often assumed that adoption of surviving captives was the norm. Recent research suggests patterns of absorption more complex and nuanced than Marcy could have appreciated, and these patterns had roots deep in the slave systems designed by indigenous North American cultures. Most cultures have validated coercion, enabling and supporting it throughout the larger society. We tend to overlook the fact that slavery was condoned and enforced not just by the bureaucratic empires of Rome, Asia, and early modern Europe, but also by the community consensus of indigenous American peoples in the centuries before the Europeans arrived. The enforcement mechanisms differed in complexity, but there was strong public support for cultural rules that gave power to inflict physical and psychological stress on the enslaved and to restrict their social and economic opportunities. Such powers inhered within the group, not just individual slave owners. The harshness of mores governing slave treatment in North America varied over places and periods. For example, in precontact times slaves had fewer chances for social and economic mobility if they lived among Indian peoples in what is present-day Washington and Oregon. The same was true for captives of the Navajos of the Southwest in the eighteenth century and for African Americans on plantations in the antebellum South.10 Oddly enough, slaves living among some of the most successful indigenous slave-raiding groups, like the Iroquois and the Comanches, had more opportunities for inclusion and social mobility. This derived from cycles of endemic warfare and slaving that created a desire to replace warriors killed or women and children stolen in counter-raids.11 Boyd Cothran and Andrew Torget give our readers fresh examples of community and state action that both sanctioned and questioned the conditions of indigenous and Euro-American slave systems. In Randolph Marcy, we have the agent of a young nation, whose government was engineering large migrations of free whites, 5 African-American slaves, and Indians. Calvin Schermerhorn links those three migrations to private and public agendas to produce capital and cotton. As Eric Bowne shows, economic and social incentives drove both Euro-American and indigenous cultures slave systems from the earliest contact into the nineteenth century. The idea that Indian slavery was “economic” runs as much against the traditional story of slavery in North America as does Marcy’s spectacle of Comanches selling African Americans to Delawares. Older studies often depicted indigenous bartered exchanges as highly local, unsophisticated, and permeated with ritual. We see that duality as artificial and unnecessary. A number of Indian peoples, including the Comanche and the Delaware, managed to straddle both customary and new rules of trade for more than a century.12 Certainly some Indian groups, like the Quechans on the lower Colorado River whom we meet with Natale Zappia, were less profit-oriented. Others, like the Comanches, actively assembled a labor force of captive women to dress bison hides for the lucrative St. Louis market.13 Recent research suggests that many Indian groups manipulated their human resources more like the Comanches and southern plantation owners. While precontact cultures did value captive women and children as kin replacements, “prestige goods,” or diplomatic gifts, their domestic labor lightened the work-load and increased the production of necessities and surplus for slave owners. Captives held by Indians farmed, cooked, herded, and made clothes, structures and tools. Like plantation slaves, they were last and least fed. Also like plantation slaves, they adapted to and made the most of social and economic opportunities available within captor societies. In the process of working for slaveholders, people in bondage also modified the nature of those cultures trying to absorb them, whether Indian or Euro-American. As Enrique Lamadrid reminds us, slaves added new foods, as 6 well as new artistic and practical designs to the cooking, crafts, and rituals they fashioned. Trade with Euro-Americans did not destroy or stop the evolution of Indian slave systems. Comparing indigenous and Euro-American slave systems in their own times and on their own terms is challenging and rewarding, but it is the goal of the School for Advanced Research and the William P. Clements Center for Southwest Studies to show how studying the past can enrich our understanding of contemporary social issues. In particular, we want to make these histories of slavery relevant to students in the twenty-first century. To that end, each essay has an introduction that places it in historical and historiographical context. We also recommend sources that encourage further comparisons and discussions. These include works of fiction, autobiography, music, and film, as well as scholarly articles. They are selected to provide fresh insights into slavery in the past and to help students use those patterns to deepen their understanding of exploitation in the present. For example, Mark Goldberg brings to life a key contact point between Indian and Anglo-American slave trading networks in north central Texas. We suggest that students extend his work, first, by comparing the interplay at Torrey Trading House near Waco with the connections made by historian Pierre Force at “The House on Bayou Road” located on the outskirts of New Orleans.14 Another intriguing option is to look at certain sources that take us further into the various migration streams that brought African American, Indian, and Cuban slaves to Texas. A third avenue lies in research that contrasts the working conditions of imported Chinese contract laborers and African America slaves. Both ethnic groups built railroads in Texas and chopped sugar cane in Louisiana, and both are part of current populations that have had to confront the legacies of slavery, including poverty and racism.15 Our goal throughout is to trace links between these legacies and slave systems in the past. 7 Research Trends Although the focus of our collection is North America, we join those scholars who urge an expansive view of slavery as a global human phenomenon. Until the modern era, bondage was almost universally understood as essential to a well-functioning society and economy. There were slaves working the kitchens, fields, and business districts of Athens, Rome, and ancient Japan.16 In the late Middle Ages and Renaissance, fotzati (enslaved oarsmen) powered the commercial and war galleys that sliced through the Mediterranean, and Arab pirates scored high profits auctioning off Byzantine women.17 Beginning in the early modern era, Christian janissary (enslaved) soldiers fought on Ottoman frontiers in southwest Asia, while women cooked, cleaned, played instruments, did acrobatics, and were prostituted in households of the lords of Rajput, what is now northern India and Pakistan.18 In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, we find kidnapped Apache and colonial mestizo women grinding corn near Navajo hogans or scraping hides outside Comanche tipis on the Great Plains, and the region’s own caste of janissaries, known as genízaros, guarding the frontiers of New Mexico. Across the Atlantic, at the same time that the black female slaves were bought by the Delaware trader, orphaned children were forced to labor in British mills, spinning thread and weaving fabric from the cotton grown in fields like the one worked by Solomon Northrup and other African Americans in the United States.19 To fully embrace the varieties of human bondage featured here requires that we situate the histories of slavery in continental North America within a global literature on systems of slavery and bondage. Doing so alerts us to the fact that however unusual ours may seem within the conventional story of American slavery, their details actually accord with patterns evident in the global compass. When we survey ethnographic cases we discover that captures and 8 enslavement among livestock herding pastoralists like Comanches or Navajos were hardly rare. In fact, in world-historical perspective, pastoral economies utilize slave labor far more than any other mode of production: fully 73 percent of pastoral societies include some form of slavery in their social organization, compared to 43 percent of agriculturalists and 17 percent of horticulturalists. Likewise, in many of our cases we see kinship and enslavement entangled, counter to the presumption that these are distinctly different social categories. Again, ethnographic cases, especially those from Africa and Asia, suggest that kinship and slavery worked as often in a “continuum of coercion” as they did in opposition to one another. Our western, enlightenment notions of sentimental and affective ties among kin forget that for the vast sweep of human history, marriage, childbearing, and fictive kin systems (adoption) served to enhance labor capacity of households and communities – however much they also involved emotional “ties that bind.” These entanglements endured even past the era of emancipation in many parts of the world, and in some of the North America cases. If we wish to fully comprehend the complicated nature of North American slaveries, we will do well to keep our analytical eyes on these more distant horizons and utilize insights drawn from other scholars in the humanities and social sciences.20 This volume, then, links the familiar and unfamiliar stories of slavery in North America to the findings of research in several disciplines: anthropology, history, psychology, and ethnic studies. It showcases cutting edge work built upon analytical and methodological breakthroughs that began in the 1970s with a generation of historians who believed that diverse sources could be read to reveal the tensions and compromises that allowed slave systems to function. These scholars argued that it was possible to reconstruct the conditions of slavery and understand the influence slaves had on the circumstances of their bondage in the colonial and antebellum 9 South.21 Since then historians have paused periodically to reflect on how our understanding of slavery has shifted and in what productive directions new attention might turn. After twenty years of new insights, American Historical Review (AHR) published the Forum, “Crossing Slaveries Boundaries,” in which22 David Brion Davis urged us to expand the story of slavery to a “big picture.” Davis called for the study of slavery in North America to move beyond the British settlements and to explore bondage in Spanish, French, and Dutch colonies. Thirteen years later, we see real attention to his call, but believe that the picture remains clouded if it does not include comparisons of slavery practiced in the indigenous cultures across the continent and across a wider stretch of time—one that reaches back into the pre-Columbian past and forward into the twenty-first century. According to Davis, “the history of the United States—indeed, the history of the entire New World—has been dominated by the theme of slavery and freedom.23 He also hinted that this approach might allow “a different way of perceiving world history.”24 His fellow discussant, Peter Kolchin, urged that comparative history of slavery gives us a chance to limit “historical parochialism, test hypotheses and form historical generalizations; or identify and explain significant differences...to put slave systems in the context of unfree labor in general, and its rise in the modern world.”25 We agree. Some North American slave systems have undeniable parallels with those in South America, Africa, and Asia. Perhaps the strongest is the raiding and trading of women and children in all these places.26 We also agree with Stanley L. Engerman that “….Any specific definition of slavery has legal, cultural, political, and economic aspects.”27 In the years since the AHR Forum, research has shown that these dimensions of slavery are inextricably woven into even the least “capitalistic” slave systems. 10 In Invisible Citizens: Captives and their Consequences (2008), anthropologist Catherine Cameron assembled scholarly studies that laid out a more expansive understanding of slavery in North America and beyond.28 The collection is a broad sampling of research on slave systems from around the world, but with a focus on North America. The essays take us from the prehistoric Pacific Northwest to twentieth- century Amazonia; from indigenous cultures in the Philippines to those on the Great Plains and the Great Lakes. Cameron and her colleagues contend that anthropology too long has avoided the slavery question. The studies show that, contrary to the demographics of the Atlantic slave trade, most indigenous American cultures targeted woman and child captives.29 The previously “silent” record begins to speak as Cameron and her colleagues probe pottery styles, foodways, and kinship systems for signs of the kind of cultural transfers that were the natural result of incorporating captive women as both laborers and producers of social prestige.30 Skeletal remains also exhibit signs of slavery, intimating that certain individuals were selected for food deprivation, more intense labor, and violent physical abuse. Some studies suggest that the treatment of Indian slaves was similar to the semi-starvation diets and physical battery found on Euro-American plantations.31 The contributors also challenge the dual stereotype of the fate of Indian captives: that they were destined to become either sacrificial victims or fully adopted members of indigenous communities to replace lost kin. In fact, there were many permeable levels of incorporation. For example, some captives were adopted as family members only later to be sacrificed in ceremonies or buried with their new kin in funeral rites.32 Cultural groups permitted a variety of freedoms and imposed different restrictions on slave behavior and status. Invisible Citizens also sketches two other broad images of slavery 11 across North America: how slaving triggered multiple migrations and the power of slaves to alter the culture of the enslavers.33 Shortly afterward Invisible Citizens appeared, two important ethnohistorical volumes appeared. Both investigate Indians raiding for slaves and Indians being enslaved, but in the period after the arrival of the Europeans.34 In Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone: The Colonial Indian Slave Trade and Regional Instability in the American South, Robbie Ethridge and Sheri M. Shuck-Hall provide a broad orientation in the Indian perspective of slaving during the colonial period.35 The volume covers 1540 to 1730 from the arrival of Hernán de Soto to the end of the Carolina-Indian wars. Although the classic Mississippian centers had collapsed by 1540, overall stability in the region-wide system of leadership continued—until European contacts began. European military and epidemiological attacks made recovery from natural, cyclical collapses in authority much harder because so many chiefdoms fell in such a short time period.36 Over approximately 200 years, following the Soto expedition and the increased Indianon-Indian slave raiding encouraged by British traders, disease and slaving accelerated cultural breakdown, instability, and political crises.37 Robbie Ethridge and Paul Kelton suggest that slaving probably was as destabilizing as disease.38 Disease, slaving, and trade with Europeans set off a fracturing within culture groups, and the South became a “shatter zone.” The “shattering” of former community structures was followed by innovative, internal reorganizations of communities like the formation of loose confederacies among towns created by the aggregation of survivors from the collapse of various chiefdoms – the Creek, Catawba, and Yamasee peoples.39 This volume directs our attention to this dynamic as it played out in the West. The same triggers that transformed peoples east of the Mississippi River fostered Comanche equestrianism 12 and migration to the southern Great Plains in the late seventeenth century; the genízaro communities created in New Mexico on the Indian/Spanish colonial frontier by the descendants of captives in the late eighteenth century; and the turn of the Klamath people in the Pacific Northwest from smaller scale captive raiding to commercial slaving in the 1830s.40 Unless we expand our view across the continent, we miss the parallels in these western “shatter zones.”41 Indians everywhere were adapting their institutions and slave practices to fit new and evolving conditions. While traditional cultural norms did persist as the level of warfare increased and the geographical range of slaving expanded, some customs were modified to embrace the spiritual and economic opportunities offered by acquiring more European trade goods and providing more chattel slaves.42 Ethridge and Shuck-Hall focus on Indians as slavers and slave traders. Alan Gallay and the contributors to his volume explore the use of Indians as slaves in Euro-American colonies.43 Gallay stretches our perspective by reminding us that in the seventeenth century there were “more English held as slaves in Africa than Africans held in English colonies.”44 His mapping of slavery reaches into the trans-Mississippi West, along the Gulf of Mexico, and into the Southwest of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The essays do not, however, range far into the Great Plains, the Great Basin area, or the Pacific Northwest.45 The strongest contrast with our interpretation of slavery across North America lies in Gallay’s conclusion that “slavery was not a significant part of the economy of American societies.”46 Although slaves did serve as prestige goods, at times with more social than economic significance, we also see slaves as vital economic assets in both state and non-state societies.47 Our authors offer an understanding of slavery that is multidimensional, one in which social, economic, political, and ethical threads are plaited into an integral and inseparable weave of community. In addition, slaves found 13 themselves traded through a far-ranging Indian web of such communities that stretched across the continent. This vast slave network supplied the Carolinas as well, which then fed into the Caribbean trade.48 Too often the economic dimensions of slavery have been restricted to a rather ethnocentric Western definition of market capitalism. While contact with European markets did accelerate and expand Native American slaving and use of slaves, indigenous household production had long been valued for the lucrative economic opportunities provided by the items slaves made, as well as for the social status and spiritual benefits slave ownership conferred.49 Recent studies belie H. J. Neiboer’s prediction that “slavery would end when the need to labor to achieve subsistence by the free population occurs because of the natural constraints related to hunger.”50 Slave labor did increase the food supply in Indian communities, but slaves had value far beyond that single use, blurring the differences between a European-style chattel slavery and indigenous chattel slavery. The collections discussed above and the essays in the present volume add evidence to the argument that the economics of Indian slavery was not completely different from Euro-American slavery. Like their western counterparts, indigenous slave owners traded their slaves as chattels, as well as using them to sustain cultural norms and rituals.51 In both Euro American and Indian communities, economic and social and needs were met through slave ownership and the domestic labor and trade production that accompanied it.52 In addition, like Patricia Galloway in the Ethridge/Shuck-Hall volume, we ask “….What happens when capitalism is layered onto a noncapitalist economy?”53 Recent studies on the economics of trade across Indian and European networks convince us that groups like the Choctaws, Illinois, and the Comanches could operate comfortably within mercantile, capitalist and traditional systems of exchange.54 On the other hand, we agree with Robbie Ethridge that, 14 unlike the Indians, European colonists were “experienced venture capitalists.” 55 Ethridge argues that historians have stressed the economic importance of the trade in animal skins over slaves in colonial economies.56 The production of exports by free and enslaved Indians and Africans has overshadowed the economic significance of the slave trade. Historians of the colonial period have focused on the profits from commodities like beaver pelts, deerskins, rice, and tobacco. Staple crops have been a similar distraction in the historiography of North American slavery the nineteenth century. Only recently have scholars begun to appreciate that the slave trade itself attracted capital to the colonies and the new nation, circulating cash, credit, and enslaved human assets through them.57 Thinking across cultural systems of bondage helps us to remain sensitive to its many contours during, before, and after the Atlantic slave trade. The standard commercial storyline of African American slaves on Euro-American plantations becomes more diverse and nuanced as we insert these histories of “cultural borderlands.”58 By examining slave systems both east and west of the Mississippi, we discover continuities and discontinuities in social patterns. Population losses caused by disease, deaths in raids, and slave captures destabilized traditional authority formats and prompted cultural innovation. There is growing familiarity with the histories of slavery-induced migrations from the more familiar shipping of Indian slaves to the Caribbean after the New England and Southeastern Indian wars in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.59 We expand upon them by showing how these eastern cultures and networks linked with slaving cultures and networks west of the Mississippi, spanning the continent and its Caribbean island borderlands.60 North America was a vast, pulsing map of trading, raiding, and resettling. Whether indigenous or European colonial, these systems were complex cultural designs in which the economic wealth and the social power created using 15 slavery were indivisible.61 That broader sweep of the slavery in the past also allows us to draw parallels and distinctions with slavery in our own time. Thinking widely does raise new theoretical and methodological questions, however. In The Problem of Slavery as History: A Global Approach, Joseph C. Miller warns that although slavery is an almost universal human phenomenon, the cultural norms of slavery are not.62 The meaning of slavery must be determined from historical context. If we rush to find “coherence,” we make it difficult to comprehend the experience of slavery as it was actually perceived by slaves and slaveholders within and across cultures.63 Archaeologists John Robb and Timothy R. Pauketat reflected on other pitfalls and complications involved in projects trying to do this kind of “deep history.” In Big Histories, Human Lives: Tackling Problems of Scale in Archaeology, the contributors ponder “the intersection of microscale human experience with histories as largescale and long-term phenomena….History is not the history of individuals, nor of institutions, nor yet both simultaneously; it is the history of relations between individuals and between individuals and groups.” 64 Their approach echoes Miller’s emphasis on “authentic” actions and reactions. It seems ideally suited to the study of slavery because the condition has been and remains intensely personal and yet broadly practiced. Like Miller and Pollock, we agree that micro-histories are “essential building blocks of any larger-scale history.”65 Tracing foodways, patterns of material culture, word use, evidence of physical abuse, and the rate that each changes in any culture allows us to reconstruct a “historical landscape” on a particular geography and climate.66 We must be careful not to lose sight of the motivations of enslavers and resistance efforts of the enslaved in particular places, times, and groups.67 16 Slavery in North America and this Volume. All students of slavery face the challenge of formulating a general definition. There were and are many kinds of bondage practiced around the globe, and it remains a matter of debate which particular points on the continuum of coercion should be defined as “slavery.” Were the Spanish criados slaves?68 Were the captives called awakaan or “dogs” held by the Algonquians of the Great Lakes slaves?69 The panis in New France?70 The African “servants” in the British Caribbean?71 The lúgsh of the Klamath in the Pacific Northwest?72 We anchor our definition in four patterns that we find when reading across the literature in history and anthropology. Slavery is 1. a coerced state of living, a limitation on basic human choices including movement, work, family, and reproduction;73 2. enforced by the threat of violence and often accompanied by actual physical and psychological abuse; 3. forced labor to produce both economic and social wealth. Cultural slave systems demand, support, or tolerate coerced labor through law or custom (including coerced domestic and sexual labor) that produces wealth, status, and/or power for the slaveholder; and 4. not gender neutral but depends on cultural values and economic circumstances. Although male adults have been the targets of slavers in certain periods and places—in the Atlantic African slave trade, for example—over the broad expanse of history, women of reproductive age and children have most often been the targets of slavers and their cultures.74 17 The definition of “slavery” is complicated by our wide scope. We want to know how the coercers, the coerced, and observers from the outside have understood what it meant to be a slave in their own times and cultures—including the connotations of the term in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. What was considered slavery differed not only among the many cultural groups we address but also within a cultural group over time.75 Our attempt to define slavery is also influenced by our own cultural memories and norms—including the various perspectives of individual academic disciplines. This diversity sparked a lively discussion among the contributors about the title of the volume. We debated whether we were talking about linking histories of “slavery” or histories of “slaveries”? It seemed most helpful for our volume to distinguish between “slavery” as an abstract concept, the one defined above, and “slave systems” as expressions of that concept. Slavery as a cultural institution has manifested in many forms, i.e., as many distinct slave systems. Each system shared some characteristics with others, and each has its own history that traces changes over place and time. In the end the editors chose “histories of slavery.” This underlines “slavery” as an almost universal social phenomenon, while “histories” stresses the many ways peoples have woven slavery into particular cultural matrices. The essays that follow examine a range of cultural responses that incorporate many of the fundamental elements of slavery. For example, every slave system had to cope with the challenge of successfully incorporating outsiders. Slaves had to be taught their roles within that system—what they must do and what they were forbidden to do—but they were taught in ways that reflected particular internal and external economic and social conditions. In the opening essay, Catherine Cameron (Chapter 1) shows that slavery was practiced in pre-contact societies 18 across the continent. She challenges, however, assumptions that Indian slave systems were nearly interchangeable. They were not, neither in the roles assigned to slaves and nor in the opportunities available to slaves. Neither should we assume that Indian slave systems had little in common with “modern” European slavery. Cameron notes the striking similarity between the treatment of slaves by Indian groups in the Northwest and those in the plantation South. Next, Eric Bowne (Chapter 2) puts Indian slave traders and their victims—plus Indian slave traders turned victims—into migration streams during the early post-contact period. His research begins on the Atlantic coast but gives a broad, satellite view of slavers and slaves moving from north to south, into the Caribbean, and then west of the Mississippi River. Paul Conrad (Chapter 3) sustains this sense of kinetic energy, of slaves and slave traders in transit, tracking the movement of Apache laborers from the Spanish southwest into Mexico and Cuba. Boyd Cothran (Chapter 4) brings the reader to the Pacific Northwest in the nineteenth century, where the raids of Klamath groups had a similar entrepreneurial quality, while Natale Zappia (Chapter 5) sketches the links to internal and coastal trade in livestock and slaves in the far Southwest. We see that both Indian and European slaving cultures had significant commercial dimensions, and both showcase less familiar lines of trafficking and slave diaspora through North America’s internal and external borderlands. The next set of essays explores the dynamic links among Indian, European, and African cultures. Calvin Schermerhorn (Chapter 6) proposes that the forced migrations of black Americans into and Indians out of the western edges of the Cotton South illuminate the complicity of state action in shaping the economic cycles of slavery. Andrew Torget (Chapter 7) follows by examining the philosophical and economic debates over slavery in the nineteenth century to Satillo, Mexico. Here, on the northern frontier of that new republic, legislators argued 19 over the imperatives of new assurances of freedom and independence in light of the pragmatic challenges caused by the rapid immigration of American slaveholders into Texas. From Mexican Texas, our story shifts to Texas before the Civil War. Mark Goldberg (Chapter 8) reveals how two slave systems, those of the Comanche empire and the expanding United States, clashed, collaborated, and extended the patterns of slavery’s violent coercion and commerce. With his essay, we return full circle to our opening scene—Indians and Anglo-Americans operating overlapping slave trades in Texas—networks overlooked in the traditional history of North American slavery. The final three essays focus on the legacies of slavery in North America. Enrique Lamadrid’s research into kidnappings and violence in New Mexico (Chapter 9) gives poignant evidence of the ways people turned cultural memories into coping strategies designed to manage the trauma of slave raiding, family separation, and forced incorporation. Songs, ceremonies, and foodways have been passed down through the generations to today. Recent revivals have spread the sense of shared history, identity, and discrimination that reinforces a sense of pride in genízaro heritage. Sarah Deer (Chapter 10) provides further links to the legacies of slavery in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries with her research into the sexual exploitation of Native American children and women. We conclude with Melissa Farley (Chapter 11), who asks us to consider the historical patterns and definition of slavery laid out in this volume, then to decide whether recent data show that both legal and illegal prostitution is tantamount to slavery in the twenty-first century. In their entirety, the essays provide a cross-section of North American slave systems that functioned over time, within distinct culture groups, but in conversation with many others. They begin with the customs of coercion before European contact, take us through the tumultuous 20 colonial era to less familiar realities of slavery before the Civil War, and finally into the hazy boundaries between voluntary and involuntary servitude in the present day. Not only do they portray a more complete history of slavery, they generate fresh insights and questions about current cases of violence and exploitation. By looking across the continent and across the centuries, we can better distinguish the cultural and economic pressures that continue to define the experiences of slaves and to link the histories of slavery in North America. 21 1 R.B. Marcy, Thirty Years' of Army Life on the Border (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1866), viii, 35-36. The editors would like to thank Claudio Saunt for bringing this journal excerpt to their attention. “Wild Cat,” whose Seminole name was Coacoochee (c.1810–1857), was a Seminole chieftain during the Second Seminole War. In 1850 he led approximately 300 Seminoles, African Americans (some free Seminoles, some slaves), and Kickapoos from reservations in the United States to Coahuila, Mexico. Donald A. Swanson, "Coacoochee [Wild Cat]," Handbook of Texas Online (http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/fcoaz), accessed September 09, 2013; published by the Texas State Historical Association. Also in the Handbook, see Jeffrey D. Carlisle, "Seminole Indians," http://www.tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/bms19), accessed September 09, 2013. On the historical interaction of African Americans and Seminoles that began in Florida, see Jane Landers, Black Society in Spanish Florida (Urbana-Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 1999); Daniel F. Littlefield, Jr., Africans and Seminoles: From Removal to Emancipation (Jackson: University of Mississippi Press, 1977); and the new edition of Kenneth Porter’s classic work, Kenneth W. Porter, The Black Seminoles: History of a Freedom-Seeking People, Alcione M. Amos and Thomas P. Senter, eds., (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2013). 2 The film is based on the memoir of Solomon Northup. Twelve Years a Slave: Narrative of Solomon Northup, a Citizen of New York, Kidnapped in Washington City in 1841 and Rescued in 1853, From a Cotton Plantation near the Red River in Louisiana (Buffalo: Derby, Orton, and Mulligan, 1853). The screenplay of the film, “12 Years a Slave,” was written by John Ridley, Joe Walker, ed., directed by Steve McQueen (Los Angeles: Fox Searchlight Pictures, 2013). For more on the film, see the review by Manohla Dargis, “The Blood and Tears, Not the 22 Magnolias: ‘12 Years a Slave’ Holds Nothing Back in Show of Suffering,” http://www.nytimes.com/2013/10/18/movies/12-years-a-slave-holds-nothing-back-in-show-ofsuffering.html?_r=0&pagewanted=2, accessed January, 7, 2014. 3 Examples of recent scholarship following traditional geographical boundaries include a recent monograph by Walter Johnson, which does stretch the dimensions of slavery in the nineteenth century beyond the traditional South into its Atlantic borderlands. It does not, however, reach to regions west of the Mississippi River. Walter Johnson, River of Dark Dreams: Slavery and Empire in the Cotton Kingdom (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2013). For a recent traditional political history of slavery, see John Craig Hammond, Slavery, Freedom and Expansion in the Early American West (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2007) and “Slavery, Settlement, and Empire: The Expansion and Growth of Slavery in the Interior of the North American Continent, 1770-1820,” Journal of the Early Republic, 32 (Summer 2012): 175206. In the monograph Hammond defines the “West” as the new territories in the northern Midwest and Mississippi. In the article Hammond refers to Native Americans as “nations” resisting the migrations of Euro-Americans and African Americans from the Atlantic and Caribbean colonies. With the exception of a brief reference to Indian slaves in the Illinois country, Indians are not portrayed as migrating slaver traders, slaveholders, or slaves west of the Mississippi. There are no indications of the networks that predated and also fed the expansion of slavery in both indigenous and European societies. Hammond, “Slavery, Settlement, and Empire,” 178, 181, 183, 185, 188, 190, 200. See also and Gary J. Kornblith, Slavery and Sectional Strife in the Early American Republic, 1776-1821 (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2009). On migration and slavery that focus on African American versus Indian slaves, see Ira Berlin, The Making of African America: The Four Great Migrations (New York: 23 Penguin, 2010) and Many Thousands Gone: The First Two Centuries of Slavery in North America (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,1998). For contrasts in the migrations and labor laws from early colonial times to the Civil War, but within the English settlements, see Christopher Tomlins, Freedom Bound: Law, Labor, and Civic Identity in Colonizing English America, 1580-1865 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010). This is an in-depth treatment of the circumstances of indentured servants, African slaves, and free whites. There is little discussion of Native Americans. 4 Edward S. Wallace, “Introduction,” in Marcy, Thirty Years of Army Life, v-ix. 5 Samples from the large literature on this topic include Toyin Falola and Matt D. Childs, The Yoruba Diaspora In The Atlantic World (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2005); Berlin, Many Thousands Gone; John Thornton, Africa and Africans in the Making of the Atlantic World, 1400-1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992); Gwyn Campbell, Suzanne Miers, Joseph C. Miller, eds., and Women and Slavery, Vol. 2: The Modern Atlantic (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2007). 6 Eric Bowne, “’Caryinge awaye their Corne and Children’: The Effects of Westo Slave Raids on the Indians of the lower south,” in Robbie Ethridge and Sheri M. Shuck-Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone: The Colonial Indian Slave Trade and Regional Instability in the American South (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2009), 104-114. See also Daniel H. Usner, Jr., Indians, Settlers, and Slaves in a Frontier Exchange Economy: The Lower Mississippi Valley Before 1783 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1992). 7 Once again, much has been written on this topic. See for example, Philip Morgan, Slave Counterpoint: Black Culture in the Eighteenth-Century Chesapeake and Lowcountry (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1998); Jennifer Morgan, Laboring Women: 24 Reproduction and Gender in New World Slavery (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004); Wilma King, Stolen Childhood: Slave Youth in Nineteenth-Century America, 2d. ed. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2011); Gwyn Campbell, Suzanne Miers and Joseph C. Miller, eds., Children in Slavery through the Ages (Athens: Ohio State University Press, 2009). On the persistence of traditional customs of coercion after 1865 in the U.S. Southwest, see James F. Brooks, Captives and Cousins: Slavery, Kinship, and Community in the Southwest Borderlands (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001). 8 Jacqueline Jones, Labor of Love, Labor of Sorrow: Black Women, Work, and the Family, from Slavery to the Present, rev. ed. (Philadelphia: Basic Books, 2009); Eric Arnesen, ed., The Black Worker: Race, Labor, and Civil Rights Since Emancipation (Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 2007); Sharon Harley, ed., Sister Circle: Black Women and Work (Piscataway: Rutgers University Press, 2002). See also the classic monograph, Thomas Dublin, Transforming Women's Work: New England Lives in the Industrial Revolution (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995). 9 In The Problem of Slavery as History, Joseph Miller focuses on slave rebellions in European colonies during the Age of Revolutions in the Americas. Joseph C. Miller, The Problem of Slavery as History: A Global Approach (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009); pages cited refer to the 2012 edition. On slaving in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in Asia and the Americas as interactive and global, see Joseph C. Miller, “A Theme in Variations: A Historical Schema of Slaving in the Atlantic and Indian Ocean Regions,” Slavery and Abolition, 24 (August 2003), 169-194, and the essays in Douglas Hamilton, Kate Hodigan, and Joel Quirk, eds., Slavery, Memory, and Identity: National Representations and Global Legacies (London: Pickering & Chatto, 2012). See in particular the essay by C. A. Bayly, “The ‘Revolutionary 25 Age’ in the Wider World, c. 1790-1830,” in Hamilton, Hodigan, and Quirk, eds., Slavery, Memory, and Identity, 21-43. Bayly tracks dynamics similar to those in The Many Headed Hydra, with popular resistance and revolt spreading into Asia as well as America. Peter Linebaugh and Marcus Rediker, The Many-Headed Hydra: Sailors, Slaves, Commoners, and the Hidden History of the Revolutionary Atlantic (Boston: Beacon Press, 2000). For a more stateoriented perspective, see Richard Bessel, Nicholas Guyatt, and Jane Rendall, War, Empire, and Slavery, 1770-1830 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), and Indrani Chatterjee and Richard M. Eaton, eds., Slavery and South Asian History (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006). Chatterjee and Eaton reveal the connections among a number of groups who were “enormously mobile,” like those in North America, and who were linked geographically and economically by slaving over a wide area from the tenth and into the nineteenth centuries. Indrani Chatterjee, “Renewed and Connected Histories: Slavery and the Historiography of South Asia,” in Chatterjee and Eaton, eds., Slavery and South Asian History, 17-43, especially17-24. See also Edward Alpers, Gynn Campbell, and Michael Salman, eds., Slavery and Resistance in Africa and Asia (New York: Routledge, 2005); Adam Hochschild, King Leopold's Ghost: A Story of Greed, Terror, and Heroism in Colonial Africa (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1999). For examples of forced labor in twentieth century eastern Africa, southeastern Asia, and Australia, see the following essays in Alpers, Campbell, and Salman, eds., Resisting Bondage in Indian Ocean Africa and Asia (New York: Routledge, 2007): Francesca Declich,“Unfree labour, forced labour and resistance among the Zigula of the Lower Juba,” 24-39; Robert Castle, James Hagan, and Andrew Wells, “‘Unfree’ labour on the cattle stations of Northern Australia, the tea gardens of Assam and the rubber plantations of Indo-China, 1920-50,” 96-113. There is a very readable short history of slavery in world history, Jeremy Black, A Brief History of Slavery: A New Global 26 History (London: Constable and Rutherford Ltd., 2011). Black is one of the few who recognizes Native American slavery in his introductory survey of world slave systems. Black, A Brief History of Slavery, 3-12; on slavery generally and pre-1500 CE, 12-50. See also a financial history of slavery, forthcoming at this writing: Gwen Campbell and Alessandro Stanziani, eds., Bonded Labour and Debt in the Indian Ocean World (London: Pickering & Chatto Ltd., 2013). 10 For example, see Catherine M. Cameron, “Captives and Slaves in Indigenous North America,” Chapter 1 in this volume. See also Kenneth M. Ames, “Slavery, Household Production, and Demography on the Southern Northwest Coast: Cables, Tacking, and Ropewalks,” in Catherine M. Cameron, ed., Invisible Citizens: Captives and Their Consequences (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 2008), 138-158. James F. Brooks, Captives and Cousins: Slavery, Kinship, and Community in the Southwest Borderlands (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2002), 241-250. 11 Kurt A. Jordan, “Incorporation and Colonization: Postcolumbian Iroquois Satellite Communities and Processes of Indigenous Autonomy,” American Anthropologist, 115 (March 2013): 29-43; Christina Snyder, Slavery in Indian Country: The Changing Face of Captivity in Early America (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2010), at 46; William A. Fox, “Events as Seen from the North: The Iroquois and Colonial Slavery,” in Ethridge and Shuck-Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone, 63-80, and in the same volume, Brett Rushforth, “ ‘A Little Flesh We Offer You’: The Origins of Slavery in New France,” 353-389 at 366-369. Pekka Hämäläinen, The Comanche Empire (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009); Brooks, Captives and Cousins. In contrast, raiding societies like the Chickasaws were more likely to sell than incorporate captives. See Jay K. Johnson, John W. O'Hear, Robbie Ethridge, Brad R. Lieb, Susan L. Scott, and H. Edwin Jackson, “Measuring Chickasaw Adaptation on the Western 27 Frontier of the Colonial South: A Correlation of Documentary and Archeological Data,” Southeastern Archaeology, 27 (Summer 2008): 1-30; Robbie Ethridge, “The Making of a Militaristic Slaving Society: The Chickasaws and the colonial Indian Slave Trade,” in Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2009), 251276; Wendy St. Jean, “Trading Paths: Mapping Chickasaw History in the Eighteenth Century,” American Indian Quarterly, 27 (Summer/Fall2003): 758-780. 12 See Eric Bowne, “From Westo to Comanche: The Role of Commercial Indian Slaving in the Development of Colonial North America,” Chapter 2 in this volume; Brett Rushforth, Bonds of Alliance: Indigenous & Atlantic Slaveries in New France (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2012); and Patricia Galloway, “Choctaws at the Border of the Shatter Zone: Spheres of Exchange and Spheres of Social Value,” in Ethridge and Shuck-Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone, 333-364. 13 Natale Zappia, “Captivity and Economic Landscapes in California and the Far West,” Chapter 5 in this volume; Hämäläinen, The Comanche Empire. 14 PierreForce, “The House on Bayou Road: Atlantic Creole Networks in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries,” Journal of American History, 100 (June 2013): 21-45. 15 See, for example, Sean M. Kelley, Los Brazos de Dios: A Plantation Society in the Texas Borderlands, 1821-1865 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2010); Moon-Ho Jung, Coolies and Cane: Race, Labor, and Sugar in the Age of Emancipation (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2006); Theresa A. Case, The Great Southwest Railroad Strike and Free Labor (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2010), 88-96. 16 Herman Ooms, Imperial Politics and Symbolics in Ancient Japan: The Tenmu Dynasty, 650- 800 (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2009), 262-263; Timothy Taylor, “Believing the 28 Ancients: Quantitative and Qualitative Dimensions of Slavery and the Slave Trade in Later Prehistoric Eurasia,” World Archaeology, 33 (June 2001): 27-43; Alan Watson, Roman Slave Law (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987); M.I. Finley, ed., Classical Slavery (Totowa: F. Cass, 1987; W/ W. Buckland, The Roman Law of Slavery: The Condition of the Slave in Private Law from Augustus to Justinian (New York: AMS Press, 1969). 17 Angus Konstam, Renaissance War Galley, 1470-1590 (Oxford: New Vanguard, 2002), 34, 35, 38, 46. On Arab pirates, see Youval Rotman, Byzantine Slavery and the Mediterranean World, Jane Marie Todd, trans., (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2009), 74-75. On the enslaved soldiers of the Abbasid caliphs, see Peter Jackson, “Turkish slaves on Islam’s Indian Frontier,” in Chatterjee and Eaton, eds., Slavery and South Asian History, 63-82. For examples of slavery in Japan, see Thomas Nelson, “Slavery in Medieval Japan,” Monumenta Nipponica, 59 (Winter, 2004), 463-492 at 481 for the sale of a woman and her unborn children in 1324; at 468 for an account of men executed for debt or crimes and the subsequent enslavement of their wives and children; and at 479-481 on captive-taking in raids in the sixteenth century, like the Japanese invasion of Korea led by the samurai warrior Toyotomi Hideyoshi. 18 Ramya Sreenivasan, “Drudges, Dancing Girls, Concubines, Female Slaves in Rajput Polity,” in Chatterjee and Eaton, eds., Slavery & Southern Asian History, 136-161. 19 Jane Humphries, Childhood and Child Labour in the British Industrial Revolution (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010). 20 Pierre Bonte, “Ecological and Economic Factors in the Determination of Pastoral Societies,” in John G. Galaty and Philip Carl Salzman, eds., Change and Development in Nomadic and Pastoral Societies (Leiden: Brill, 1981), 33-49; Gerald Betty, “ ‘Skillful in the Management of the Horse’: Comanches as Southern Plains Pastoralists,” Heritage of the Great Plains, XXX (1) 29 (1997): 5-31; George Peter Murdock, Ethnographic Atlas: A Summary,” Ethnology, VI (April 1967): 109-236; Igor Kopytoff, “Slavery,” Annual Review of Anthropology, 11 (1982): 207-230. For overviews and debates around kinship and slavery relationships, see Suzanne Miers and Igor Kopytoff, eds., Slavery in Africa: Historical and Anthropological Perspectives (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1977); Claude Meillassoux, The Anthropology of Slavery: the Womb of Iron and Gold (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991); Paul E. Lovejoy, Transformations in Slavery: A History of Slavery in Africa (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983); Tiya Miles, Ties that Bind: the Story of an Afro-Cherokee Family in Slavery and Freedom (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005); Martin A. Klein, ed., Breaking the Chains: Slavery, Bondage, and Emancipation in Modern Africa and Asia (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1993); James F. Brooks, “Reflections and Refractions from the Southwest Borderlands,” in Max Carocci and Stephanie Pratt, eds., Native American Adoption, Captivity, and Slavery in Changing Contexts (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 185-195; Joaquin Rivaya-Martinez, “Becoming Comanches: Patterns of Captive Incorporation into Comanche Kinship Networks, 1820-1875,” in David Wallace Adams and Crista DeLuzio, eds., On the Borders of Love and Power: Families and Kinship in the Intercultural American West, (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2012), 47-70. 21 Donald M. MacRaild and Avram Taylor, Social Theory and Social History (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004). With roots in the post- World War II Annales school and the methods urged by historians like Marc Bloch in The Historian's Craft: Reflections on the Nature and Uses of History and the Techniques and Methods of Those Who Write It (Toronto: Knopf, 1953), the new social history blossomed in the work of British Marxist labor historians like E. P. Thompson, The Making of the English Working Class (London: V. Gollancz, 1963) and the 30 interpretation of cultural expressions of ordinary people, as exemplified by work of American historians like Herbert Gutman in The Black Family in Slavery and Freedom, 1750-1925 (New York: Vintage Books, 1977). The challenges involved in meaningfully counting and interpreting the statistics of such historical evidence were addressed by historians in the generation that followed. See, for example, Gary B. Nash, The Urban Crucible: Social Change, Political Consciousness, and the Origins of the American Revolution (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979), and Sean Wilentz, Chants Democratic: New York City & the Rise of the American Working Class, 1788-1850 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1984). For a fine recent example of the use of statistics to give voice to ordinary working people including slaves, see Seth Rockman, Scraping By: Wage Labor, Slavery, and Survival in Early Baltimore (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2011). 22 “AHR Forum: Crossing Slavery’s Boundaries,” American Historical Review, 105 (April 2000): 451-484. 23 David Brion Davis, “Looking at Slavery in a Broader Perspective,” American Historical Review, 105 (April 2000): 452-466, at 455. 24 Davis, “Looking at Slavery in a Broader Perspective,” 463. 25 Peter Kolchin, “The Big Picture: A Comment on David Brion Davis, ‘Looking at Slavery in a Broader Perspective,’” American Historical Review, 105 (April 2000): 467-468. 26 Gwyn Campbell, Suzanne Miers, and Joseph C. Miller, Women and Slavery, Vol. 1: Africa, the Indian Ocean World, and the Medieval North Atlantic (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2007); Lovejoy, Transformations in Slavery. On the exploitation of men, women, and children and cultural exchange in South America and the Caribbean, see Kristen Block, Ordinary Lives in the Early Caribbean: Religion, Colonial Competition, and the Politics of Profit (Athens: University 31 of Georgia Press, 2012), and James H. Sweet, Recreating Africa: Culture, Kinship, and Religion in the African-Portuguese World, 1441-1770 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006). 27 Stanley L. Engerman, “Slavery at Different Times and Places,” American Historical Review, 105 (April 2000): 480-484 at 480 and 481. 28 Cameron, ed., Invisible Citizens. 29 On women and children as the most desired slaves in other parts of the global trade from 1500 to 1600, see Black, A Brief History of Slavery, 55-56, 58. 30 Catherine M. Cameron, “Introduction: Captives in Prehistory as Agents of Social Change,” in Cameron, ed., Invisible Citizens, 1-24. Other chapters of particular interest in Invisible Citizens include Laura Lee Junker, “The Impact of Captured Women on Cultural Transmission in Contact-Period Philippine Slave-Raiding Chiefdoms,” 110-137; Judith A. Habicht- Mauche, “Captive Wives? The Role and Status of Nonlocal Women on the Protohistoric Southern High Plains,” 181-204; Susan M. Alt, “Unwilling Immigrants: Culture, Change, and the “Other” in Mississippian Societies,” 205-222; Peter N. Peregrine, “Social Death and Resurrection in the Western Great Lakes,” 223-232. See also Alice Beck Kehoe, “ ‘Slaves’ and Slave Raiding on the Northern Plains and Rupert’s Land,” in Stephen Chrisomalis and Andre Costopoulos, eds., Human Expeditions: Inspired by Bruce Trigger (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2011), 31-40. 31 Debra L. Martin, “Ripped Flesh and Torn Souls: Skeletal Evidence for Captivity and Slavery from the La Plata Valley, New Mexico, AD 1100-1300,” in Cameron, ed., Invisible Citizens, 159-180; Judith A. Habicht-Mauche, “The Role of Nonlocal Women on the Prehistoric Southern High Plains,” in Cameron, ed., Invisible Citizens, 181- 204. For additional sources on the 32 treatment of slaves by Indian captors, see Brett Rushforth, Bonds of Alliance, and Juliana Barr, “A Spectrum of Indian Bondage in Spanish Texas,” in Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America, 277-317. 32 Catherine M. Cameron, “Introduction: Captives in Prehistory as Agents of Social Change,” in Cameron, ed., Invisible Citizens, 1-24. Susan M. Alt, “Unwilling Immigrants: Culture, Change, and the ‘Other’ in Mississippian Societies,” in Cameron, ed., Invisible Citizens, 205-222. On the point that incorporation often has been violent, see Robbie Ethridge, “Introduction: Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone,” in Ethridge and Shuck-Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone, 1-63, especially at 20-26, 29-35. On the debate over whether war and violence decreased or increased after the development of sedentary agriculture, see R. Brian Ferguson, “Pinker’s List: Exaggerating Prehistoric War Mortality,” in War, Peace, and Human Nature: The Convergence of Evolutionary and Cultural Views, Douglas P. Fry, ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2013), 112-131, and Steven Pinker, The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence Has Declined (New York: Viking, 2011). 33 See Johnson, Freedom Bound, 9, for reinforcement of Catherine Cameron’s argument that slaves affected work and social practices in captor societies. See also Debra L. Martin, “Ripped Flesh and Torn Souls: Skeletal Evidence for Captivity and Slavery from the La Plata Valley, New Mexico, AD 1100-1300,” in Cameron, ed., Invisible Citizens, 159-180. 34 Robbie Ethridge and Sheri M. Shuck-Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone: The Colonial Indian Slave Trade and Regional Instability in the American South (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2009). Allan Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2009). 33 35 Ethridge, “Introduction: Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone,” 1-62, at 7. The notes for Ethridge’s introduction are especially helpful, providing suggestions for readings that will engage graduate students and undergraduates. For example, Ethridge steers readers to the historical novel by Joyce Rockwood Hudson, Apalachee. Joyce Rockwood Hudson, Apalachee (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2002). The novel follows an Apalachee captive in her violent transit through the Florida and South Carolina slaving network. Hudson dramatizes attacks on Spanish missions by Creek and English slavers, sexual abuse, brandings, life in St. Augustine, town and plantation life in the Charleston district, and tensions between European and pre-contact cosmologies. 36 Ethridge, “Introduction: Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone,” 9. 37 A main objective of the attacks was captive-taking. The numerous migrations which resulted led to the depopulation of some zones and a “concentration into towns” in others. Some targeted peoples moved to escape capture, while others followed them as slave hunters. Most Indian groups experienced both. Similarly, some African slaves ran away to Indian centers, and some raided for Indian slaves along with Europeans. It is easy to forget, however, that often more people were killed in these raids than were taken captive. Alan Gallay notes Pierre Le Moyne d’Iberville estimated that between 1692 and 1702, as the French began to establish the Louisiana colony, Chickasaws captured 500 of their neighbors, but killed 1800—only 800 of whom were warriors. Alan Gallay, “Introduction: Indian Slavery in Historical Context,” in Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America, 1-32 at 2. See also Patricia Galloway, “Choctaws at the Border of the Shatter Zone: Spheres of Exchange and Spheres of Social Value,” in Cameron, ed., Invisible Citizens, 333-362 at 338. For similar results during Russian expansion in the nineteenth century, when more people were killed in raids than were taken captive, see Janet Hartley, The 34 Russian Empire: Military Encounters and National Identity, in Richard Bessel, Nicholas Guyatt, and Jane Rendall, eds., War, Empire, and Slavery, 1770-1830 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), 218-234 at 224. 38 Ethridge, “Introduction,” 13, 46. Paul Kelton, “Shattered and Infected: Epidemics and the Origins of the Yamasee War, 1696-1715,” in Ethridge and Shuck-Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone, 312-332. Kelton estimates that wars and epidemics caused a population drop of 50 percent among Upper and Lower Creeks, Chickasaws, and Yamasees. Kelton concludes that disease followed the slave trading routes, decimating victims and slavers alike. Germs spread not just through commerce of goods and slaves but also were brought by refugees like the Apalachees, who were taken in by the Lower Creeks. It is significant that disease was not only moving west from European settlements but also was traveling east along Indian trade routes from the Southwest to Mississippi chiefdoms. 39 On the Catawbas, see Robin J. Beck, Jr., “Catawba Coalescence and the Shattering of the Carolina Piedmont, 1540-1675,” in Ethridge and Shuck-Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone, 115-141. Also see Ned J. Jenkins, “Tracing the Origins of the Early Creeks, 10501700 C.E.,” in Ethridge and Shuck-Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone, 188-249. Jenkins argues that it is necessary to understand the “migrations, fusions, and coalescences” caused by slaving as key institutions of political economies. The cult of warfare continued after the collapse of precontact chiefdom societies, but the competition expanded to include European trade goods and more chattel slaves, as well as honor and power. A more fluid social organization came to typify Indian groups in Southeast during colonial period, and groups like the Alabama, Coushatta, Savannahs, and Yamasees shifted economic roles from slave targets to slave raiders. 35 40 On transitions to commercial slave raiding across the continent, see the essays in this volume by Eric Bowne, Paul Conrad, Boyd Cothran, Natale Zappia, and Marc Goldberg. Also see Hämäläinen, The Comanche Empire; Brooks, Captives and Cousins; and Ethridge, “Introduction,” 43. See the following chapters in Ethridge and Schuck-Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone: Stephen Warren and Randolph Hoe, “‘The Greatest Travelers in America’: Shawnee Survival in the Shatter Zone,” 163-187; William A. Fox, “Events as Seen from the North: The Iroquois and Colonial Slavery,” 63-80; Sheri M. Schuck-Hall, “Alabama and Coushatta Diaspora and Coalescence in the Mississippi Shatter Zone,” 250-271; John E. Worth, “Razing Florida: The Indian Slave Trade and the Devastation of Spanish Florida,” 295311. These texts provide evidence for the argument that what happened in the far Northeast had a tremendous impact on the Southeast and the Great Plains. All these regions saw an expansion of the traditional trades in slaves, pelts, and luxury goods. Increased demand prompted greater movement of each of these across trans-continental networks. Disease and European debt institutions spread along with trade. Recent studies broaden this picture to include the Southwest, Northwest, Mexico and the Caribbean. Among Indian peoples, competition intensified for guns, trade goods, and for key roles as middlemen—those who managed the flow of slaves, animal pelts and European goods. 41 Ethridge, “Introduction,” generally and especially at 2, 4, 6. 42 Matthew H. Jennings, “Violence in a Shattered World,” in Ethridge and Sheri M. Shuck-Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone, 272-294. Jennings does not see the dynamics as consistent with a Richard White-styled “middle ground,” but rather that slave raiding reinforced relations that remained particularly violent. Richard White, The Middle Ground: Indians, 36 Empires, and Republics in the Great Lakes Region, 1650-1815 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991). 43 Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America. 44 Gallay, “Introduction,” in Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America, 1-32, at 11. 45 The essays do not, however, range far into the Great Plains, the Great Basin area, or the Pacific Northwest. Gallay does distinguish between Indians as slaves in European colonies and Indians as slave raiders that delivered other Indian peoples into the European slave market but ther is little on Indians as slave owners or the treatment of slaves within Indian communities in the introduction. Gallay, “Introduction,” 7. Several essays in the volume do address the issue of Indians being enslaved by other Indians. See, for example, Denise L. Bossy, “Indian Slavery in Southeastern Indian and British Societies, 1670-1730,” in Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America, 208-21. The traditional themes of Indian captive revenge-killing and adoption are enhanced by the recognition of the need for slave labor. It is useful to compare Bossy’s interpretation with E.A.S. Demers, “John Askin and Indian Slavery at Michilimackinac,” in Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America, 400-411, especially at 391 and 405. Through Demers, readers see slaves treated as chattels while also in closer relationships with slaveholders. Indian ritualized trading of slaves during peace negotiations is portrayed as longstanding, rather than as an “innovation” following European contact. Robbie Ethridge confirms this interpretation in “The Making of a Militaristic Slaving Society,” in Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America, 251-276, at 265, as does Brett Rushforth in “A Little Flesh We Offer You,” 353-389 and Bonds of Alliance, 353-54, 360, 372, 374, in which he reaffirms that Indian slaves “performed essential labors in the colonial economy of New France.” Also in Bonds of Alliance, see 354 on the resistance of scholars to see slavery under Indian masters as economic 37 chattel slavery, preferring an adoption motif. See also Juliana Barr, “A Spectrum of Indian Bondage in Spanish Texas,” in Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America, 277-317, at 289, where she states, “Eighteenth -century captive Apaches would become as valuable as Spanish horses in Comanche and Wichita trading networks into French Louisiana” and “Spanish forces and their Indian allies targeted Apache women and children in daybreak raids,” at 297. These analyses fall into line with those in Invisible Citizens, i.e., that indigenous slavery was more violent and more ambiguous than that portrayed in older interpretations. 46 Gallay, “Introduction,” 20. 47 For mixed interpretations of the economic perspective of the Choctaws, see Patricia Galloway, “Choctaws at the Border of the Shatter Zone: Spheres of Exchange and Spheres of Social Value,” in Ethridge and Shuck-Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone, 331-364, especially 41-46. In Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America, contributors were split on this issue as well. For a traditional portrayal of slavery in Indian societies, see Margaret Ellen Newell, “Indian Slavery in Colonial New England,” 39; Denise L. Bossy, “Indian Slavery in Southeastern Indian and British Societies, 1670-1730,” 208-21. Prominent examples of the revisionist view, in which slaves are integral to Indian economies include James F. Brooks, “ ‘We Betray Our Own Nation’: Indian Slavery and Multi-Ethnic Communities in the Southwest Borderlands,” in Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America, 319-351, and Matthew H. Jennings “Violence in a Shattered World,” 272-294. On 286, Jennings questions whether the social and economic goals of captive–taking were distinct. Instead, he emphasizes that it was the long-distance slave raiding with its large capital market demand that distinguished post-contact slave raiding from that in earlier times. Similarly, Brett Rushforth maintains that slaves were one of the most important “natural” resources needed in traditional Indian societies in the upper 38 Midwest and Great Lakes regions before and after contact. For example, slave ownership among the Illinois Indians conveyed not just personal wealth, but also religious and political power. According to Rushforth, Indian slaves “performed essential labors in the colonial economy of New France” and were perceived by the French to suffer terrible living conditions, despite adoption rituals. Indians used slave exchange to “requicken their dead,” to satisfy diplomatic rituals of alliance, but also to exchange necessities and prestige goods. Rushforth, “A Little Flesh We Offer You,” 353-389 and Bonds of Alliance generally. See also Bonnie Martin, “Slavery’s Invisible Engine: Mortgaging Human Property,” Journal of Southern History, 76 (November 2010): 817-866, on the growing significance of slaves in generating development capital in EuroAmerican societies. 48 See Peter N. Peregrine, “Social Death and Resurrection in the Western Great Lakes,” in Cameron, ed. Invisible Citizens, 223-232, and Judith A. Habicht-Mauche, “Captive Wives? The Role and Status of Nonlocal Women on the Protohistoric High Plains,” in Cameron, ed. Invisible Citizens, 181-204. For example, Illinois Indians sold captives from the Southwest and the Great Plains to the English through French traders, coureurs de bois. Rushforth, “A Little Flesh We Offer You,” 360, 370, 378 and Bonded Alliances. 49 For revisionist challenges to this interpretation, see Walter Johnson, “Agency: a Ghost Story,” in Walter Johnson, Eric Foner, and Richard Follett, Slavery’s Ghost: The Problem of Freedom in the Age of Emancipation (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2011); Ames, “Slavery, Household Production, and Demography,” in Catherine Cameron, ed., Invisible Citizens; and E.A.S. Demers,”John Askin and Indian Slavery at Michilimackinac,” in Gallay, ed., Indian Slavery in Colonial America, 391-416, especially at 391, 400-411. 39 50 Engerman, “Slavery at Different Times and Places,” American Historical Review, 105 (April 2000): 481-484 at 481. 51 Brett Rushforth, “A Little Flesh We Offer You,” 353-389, especially at 353-54, 360, 372, 374, and in Bonds of Alliance. 52 For examples of regional and micro studies, see the chapters in the current volume and Brooks, Captives and Cousins; Hämäläinen, The Comanche Empire; Ames, “Slavery, Household Production, and Demography;” Walter Johnson, Soul by Soul: Life Inside the Antebellum Slave Market (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999). 53 Galloway, “Choctaws at the Border of the Shatter Zone,” 343. Patricia Galloway, “Choctaws at the Border of the Shatter Zone: Spheres of Exchange and Spheres of Social Value,” in Ethridge and Shuck-Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone, 331-364 at 336. 54 See Cothran, “Lúgsh and Laláki: Slaves, Chiefs, Medicine Men and the Indigenous Political Landscape of the Klamath Basin, 1820s-1860s,” Chapter 4 in this volume; Galloway, “Choctaws at the Border of the Shatter Zone,” 354; Rushforth, Bonds of Alliance; Hämäläinen, The Comanche Empire; Brooks, Captives and Cousins. 55 Robbie Ethridge, “Afterword,” in Ethridge and Shuck Hall, eds., Mapping the Mississippi Shatter Zone, 420-424. 56 Ethridge, “Introduction,” 2. Also see Schermerhorn, “ ‘(T)he time is now just arriving when many Capitalists will make fortunes’: Indian Removal, Finance, and Slavery in the Making of the American Cotton South,” Chapter 6 in this volume; Demers, “John Askin and Indian Slavery at Michilimackinac,” 405; Barr, “A Spectrum of Indian Bondage in Spanish Texas,” 289; Brooks, “ ‘We Betray Our Own Nation,’” 328, on the significant import for local and regional economies of raids and sales of slaves. On the financial importance of the slave trade in colonial 40 economies, Martin, “Slavery’s Invisible Engine;” Kenneth Morgan, Slavery, Atlantic Trade and the British Economy, 1660-1800 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000); Johnson, River of Dark Dreams. 57 On the reluctance of historians to delve into the history of financial markets and their connections to slavery and capitalism, see Edward E. Baptist, “Toxic Debt, Liar Loans, Collateralized and Securitized Human Beings, and the Panic of 1837,” in Michael Zakim and Gary J. Kornblith, eds., Capitalism Takes Command: The Social Transformation of NineteenthCentury North America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012), 72, 89. On the funding of slave economies and on the liquidity of slaves, see Schermerhorn, “ ‘(T)he time is now just arriving when many Capitalists will make fortunes,’” Chapter 6 in this volume; Baptist, “Toxic Debt,” 81 and generally, 79, 90-91, and Martin, “Slavery’s Invisible Engine.” 58 Brooks, “ ‘We Betray Our Own Nation,’” 320-323 and Captives and Cousins; Martin, “Slavery’s Invisible Engine.” 59 On shipping Indians to Caribbean, see Gallay, “Introduction: Indian Slavery in Historical Context,” and Barr, “A Spectrum of Indian Bondage in Spanish Texas;” and Paul Conrad’s essay, “Indians, Convicts, and Slaves: An Apache Diaspora to Cuba at the turn of the Nineteenth-Century,” in this volume. 60 See the essays in this volume, plus Brooks, Captives and Cousins, and Rushforth, Bonds of Alliance. 61 Brooks, “ ‘We Betray Our Own Nation,’” 320-323 and Captives and Cousins; Martin, “Slavery’s Invisible Engine.” 62 Miller, The Problem of Slavery as History, 4. 63 Miller, The Problem of Slavery as History, 4-8, 123-127. 41 64 John Robb and Timothy R. Pauketat, “From Moments to Millennia: Theorizing Scale and Change in Human History,” in John Robb and Timothy R. Pauketat, eds., Big Histories, Human Lives: Tackling Problems of Scale in Archaeology (Santa Fe: School for Advanced Research Press, 2013) 3, 21. 65 Pollock, “Commensality,” in Robb and Pauketat, eds. Big Histories, 17. 66 Robb and Pauketat, “From Moments to Millennia,” 23, 25. 67 In facing the challenge of doing “larger scale history,” we also have benefited from a 2013 roundtable discussion, “Investigating the History in Prehistories” in The American Historical Review. “Roundtable: Investigating the History in Prehistories,” American Historical Review, 118 (June 2013): 708-801. The discussants sense “a tendency to flatten and freeze” the history that came before the last three centuries of western European exploration, colonization, and industrialization. On flattening prehistory, see “Roundtable: Investigating the History in Prehistories: Introduction,” 708; Daniel Lord Smail and Andrew Shyrock, “History and the “Pre,” American Historical Review, 118 (June 2013): 709-737, at 711; and Rosalind O’Hanlon, “Contested Conjunctures: Brahmin Communities and ‘Early Modernity’ in India,” American Historical Review, 118 (June 2013): 765-787, at 766. The discussion of pre-history also raises troubling questions about the concept of “modernity,” itself the subject of a roundtable two years earlier. “Roundtable: Historians and the Question of ‘Modernity’,” American Historical Review, 116 (June 2011): 631-751. Carol Symes describes “modernity” as “a present claim to novelty and superiority when compared to the great before.” Carol Symes, “When We Talk about Modernity,” American Historical Review, 116 (June 2011): 715-726, at 719. Carol Gluck warns that while modernity does bring new things, ideas and technology, we should be careful not to let contact with the modern obscure what was already in place. Carol Gluck, “The End of 42 Elsewhere: Writing Modernity Now,” American Historical Review, 116 (June 2011): 676-687. For the purposes of this volume, this means that while the Atlantic slave trade did intensify slaving among indigenous North Americans, we should appreciate the impact of preexisting slave societies and a well-established continental network. This definition of modernity is useful because it not centered on Western Europe. Instead it suggests thinking in terms of worldwide, intercontinental networks of economies and cultures, in which slavery and the slave trade were critical components. Of course we must avoid the opposite danger as well: a historical relativism that treats each society as sui generis. 68 Brooks, Captives and Cousins, and see the story of the enslavement sexual abuse of the criada Indian woman, “Maria,” in Barr, “A Spectrum of Indian Bondage in Spanish Texas,” 306-308. 69 Rushforth, Bonds of Alliance, 35. Also see Ramon A. Gutierrez, When Jesus Came, the Corn Mothers Went Away: Marriage, Sexuality, and Power in New Mexico, 1500-1846 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991). 70 Rushforth, Bonds of Alliance, generally. 71 For example, see Susan Dwyer Amussen, Caribbean Exchanges: Slavery and the Transformation of English Society, 1640-1700 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2007). Of particular interest are the illustrations of “owners” and “servants.” 72 See Cothran, “Lúgsh and Laláki: Slaves, Chiefs, Medicine Men and the Indigenous Political Landscape of the Klamath Basin, 1820s-1860s,” Chapter 4 in this volume. 73 On slavery as only one form of coerced labor, see Gwyn Campbell and Edward Alpers, “Introduction: Slavery, Forced Labour and Resistance in Indian Ocean Africa and Asia,” in Alpers, Campbell, and Salman, eds., Slavery and Resistance in Africa and Asia, 1-19. 43 74 See Jeremy Black, A Brief History of Slavery, 7, 16, 25, 45, 58, 70-73, 86; Joseph C. Miller, The Problem of Slavery as History; Berlin, Many Thousands Gone; Gwyn Campbell and Edward Alpers, “Introduction: Slavery, Forced Labour and Resistance in Indian Ocean Africa and Asia,” 7-8. On women and young girls making up the majority of slaves in the trade, see the articles in this volume; Brooks, Captives and Cousins. On forced marriages of prepubescent girls, plus demands on local populations for labor that fall between plantation and encomienda slavery, see Francesca Declich, “Unfree labour, forced labour and resistance among the Zigula of the Lower Juba,” in Alpers, Campbell, and Salman, eds., Resisting Bondage in Indian Ocean Africa and Asia, 24-39. On slavery, war, and non-European capitalism, including sexual slavery in early modern Asia and China, see Warren and Jeremy Black, A Brief History of Slavery, 70-73. See also the following essays which focus on women in slavery: Chatterjee and Eaton, eds., Slavery and South Asian History: Daud Ali, “A Study of Palace Women in the Chola Empire;” Ramya Sreenivasan, “ Drudges, Dancing Girls, and Concubines: Female Slaves in Ranjut Polity, 15001850;” Sylvia Vatuk, “Bharattee’s Death: Domestic Slave-Women in Nineteenth-Century Madras.” 75 David Brion Davis, Inhuman Bondage: The Rise and Fall of Slavery in the New World (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008); Lovejoy, Transformations in Slavery; Sweet, Recreating Africa; Stuart B. Schwartz , ed., Tropical Babylons: Sugar and the Making of the Atlantic World, 1450-1680 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004); Chatterjee and Eaton, eds., Slavery & South Asian History; James Francis Warren, The Sulu Zone, 1768-1898: The Dynamics of External Trade, Slavery, and Ethnicity in the Transformation of a Southeast Asian Marine State (Singapore: Singapore University Press, 1981); “The Balangingi Samal: The Global Economy, Maritime Raiding and Diasporic Identities in the Nineteenth-Century 44 Philippines,” Asian Ethnicity, 4 (March 2003): 7 – 29; and Iranun and Balangingi: Globalization, Maritime Raiding, and the Birth of Ethnicity (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2003). As in North America, these slave systems varied in their openness to incorporating enslaved people. We also can compare resistance in Japanese work camps in Java during World War II and on Australia ranches between 1920 and 1940. In Alpers, Campbell, and Salman, eds., Resisting Bondage in Indian Ocean Africa and Asia, see Shigeru Sato, “Forced Labourers and their Resistance in Java under Japanese Military Rule, 1942-45,” 82-95; and in the same volume, Robert Castle, James Hagan, and Andrew Wells, “Unfree Labour on the Cattle Stations of Northern Australia, the Tea Gardens of Assam and the Rubber Plantations of Indo-China, 192050,” 96-113. In addition, patterns of marronage, that is, escapes from slavery, offer many insights into the conditions of bondage. There are strong parallels between resistance via “smallscale short-term marronage” in Asia and Africa and what was typical in Euro-North American settlements. For example, Richard B. Allen argues that marronage rates of 4 to 5 percent in Mauritius during the late eighteenth century grew to 11 to 13 percent by the early 1820s, while reports of marronage in New World societies suggest rates of “often less than 1 percent per year.” Underreporting may account for this low percentage. Richard B. Allen, “A Serious and Alarming Evil: Marronage and its Legacy in Mauritius and the Colonial Plantation World,” in Alpers, Campbell, and Salman, eds., Slavery and Resistance in Africa and Asia, 20-36 at 24-25. Also see the “Special Issue: Out of the House of Bondage: Runaways, Resistance and Marronage in Africa and the New World,” Slavery and Abolition, 6, no. 3 (1985), “Part 2: Runaways and Resistance in the New World,” 37-128, and “Part 3 Marronage,” 131-184. 45