Essay Four

The concept of “freedom” as described by Equiano, and as understood by his contemporaries, both African and European, is a fragile term to define. Its fragility comes from the relative ambiguity of freedom, itself, as already demonstrated by reactions in France to the issue of slavery and how it related to their own sense of national identity. Freedom for the African slave would mean, obviously, freedom from the direct subjugation of one man by another, freedom from the status of property, to instead assume one of dignity and humanity, and lastly, some independence regarding future lifestyle and or decisions reflecting one’s overall outcome.
Freedom for the slave as seen by the French meant, more than anything, that they technically could not be seen as slaves while in the physical boundaries of France itself, lest the entire national psyche become a gigantic hypocrisy. Freedom for the slave as seen by the British meant, in the early nineteenth century, that slavery would end, a step that was undoubtedly painful for a government that had certainly seen its nation benefit greatly from the financial boon that was the slave trade, regardless of the moral cost. Equiano’s concept of freedom is almost impossible to judge on its own merit simply because of the constraints placed upon it by Europeans who themselves held final say over the status of slaves in their own countries, and if, and for how long slavery would continue as a legal institution. Even the final reckoning of this process of delineating freedoms has continued into modern times, or at least into the late twentieth century in parts of the western world, still longer in others.

Essay Three

The French appear to have been faced with a deep moral conflict when the issue of slavery confronted them. It wasn’t the idea of slavery per se, as slavery itself was an established and economically valuable facet of life in French colonial holdings. What happened was the challenge, by its simple nature, that the notion of slavery posed to the French idea of self. The qualities gained and then cultivated since the beginnings of France as a kingdom, the very notions of what it meant to be a Frenchman, were irreconcilable with the idea that a man could own another man as property. How this played out in the practical may not always have been the most altruistic of responses, but nonetheless the two ideas were not compatible, and, in concept at least, slavery did not and could not exist within France itself. That slavery flourished in the colonies was a completely different matter, and one that would have ironic consequences in itself, as French magistrates struggled to deal with surging numbers of Africans in France seeking their freedom and the potential stress this could place on how they already quantified the order of things. Returning freed slaves to the colonies would have done nothing but incite revolt, as those in bondage heard the words first hand of their brethren who had since been made freemen simply by existing within body of France itself, rather than one of its holdings.
That is what makes the French response to slavery singularly unique. The pressures of monarchy and the history of the country, its roots in feudalism, its emerging ideals and the long tradition of superior knowledge, and a supreme self confidence in French notions of citizenship and philosophy led to a clash with the reality of slavery. Obviously, the results were compounded by the limitations of the bureaucracy to process slavery as it applied in practicality, though it was simultaneously in conflict with the overall system. The idea, though, makes this a battle of reality against perception, not necessarily with how the French saw the world, but rather, how they saw themselves.

Essay Two

Conventional wisdom would suggest that such a radical change in British policies would come from the left, from the voices of dissent perpetually railing against the perceived faults of government and society at large. In actuality, the chief opposition to the slave trade came from the very segment of society that would otherwise be seen as most loyal to the government and to the accepted practices of eighteenth century England. The conservative elements of society, those rooted deep in religion and what would seem to be the core of stable British society, were the very elements that brought forth the definitive victory against the slave trade in Great Britain.
The idea of conservative religious thinkers and activists coming together to protest the continuation of the slave trade appears to have become a reality for moral reasons, in sync with their own beliefs, and in that regard it suddenly becomes far less audacious a thought to think of the conservative segments of the population being the ones to demand such sweeping change on a national level. The slave trade is seen as a moral ill, not just a social one, and its abolition would go on to become a badge of honor for the English system of government and its national identity. That is not to say that the abolition of the slave trade was without its opponents, or that the process was itself one to be welcomed by all quarters of English society. The sheer economic impact of robbing the English port system of one of, if not its most vital trade was undoubtedly a dire consideration for those on both sides of the issue, both in parliament and among those personally invested in the struggle, on both sides.
Bristol, Liverpool and London each benefited immensely from the slave trade, experiencing periods of great economic and practical expansion. The desire on the part of abolitionists to do away with the slave trade certainly created a backlash throughout England and from all who were directly, or indirectly, invested in its continued survival. Not only the slavers themselves, but entire industries, entire ports were dependent upon the slave trade for their prosperity, and this could not have been an easy decision for the members of parliament to even contemplate, let alone commit to. That makes it especially important that the more conservative elements of English society would be the ones to call for such a significant change in policy, one that would simultaneously shatter the preconceived notions of economic prosperity for a handful of major English port cities, while at the same time cementing an important lasting aspect of the English national identity.

Essay 1

The idea of the Black Atlantic as defined by our readings is valid, though the Gerzina essay does rely excessively, at least early on, upon symbolism and the superimposed idea of white “tourism” in the seventeenth century over the slave trade. The concept behind the term is concrete enough, and easy to follow. The Atlantic ocean was traversed by Africans in huge numbers during the centuries before, and the years immediately after the abolition of the slave trade in Great Britain. Right or wrong, the Atlantic sea lanes became the primary method with which Africans entered the larger global community, at least to a great extent. The slave trade was clearly responsible for much of this and in the worst of ways, ferrying human cargo under the most degrading of conditions across the ocean for profit and to supply colonial enterprises in the Caribbean and the Americas with laborers. For many Africans, this was the defining exodus from Africa itself, a forced journey under the very worst of circumstances.
What makes the Black Atlantic apt is the way in which the ocean became a beacon of freedom and a metaphor for liberty, a way for at least some itinerate Africans to experience a life other than slavery and servitude. Black sailors enjoyed a kind of lifestyle that was dramatically advanced from the conditions inflicted upon those who were taken across the Atlantic under duress. In this way, the Atlantic ocean serves as both the backdrop for depredations inflicted upon captive Africans during the peak years of the slave trade, and also as the primary zone of emancipation, at least to an extent, for Black seamen. The parallel is not lost upon Gerzina, who further transposes white narrative tales of early tourism and liberated travel over the dualistic nature of the Atlantic slave trade and the freedom offered by ships to Black sailors. The sad irony of tourism and slavery coexisting within the same environment is not lost upon the reader, or the historian, but the significance of the Atlantic in the African exodus, forced or not, is nonetheless valid and deserved.

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