The historiography dealing with the evolution of elementary education in the Spanish American colonial period is relatively abundant. However, a great part of the literature has a regional or national scope, and in general does not give an idea of tendencies or the scale of education, which makes a general evaluation difficult. This paper tries to present such an evaluation based on the available secondary sources, and covers the whole of Spanish America during the century prior to Independence. It attempts to describe concisely both the consolidation of the institutions which had been evolving since the Conquest, and the series of changes which, it concludes, anticipate the educational transformations of the nineteenth century.

Andre Gunder Frank's latest work, ReORIENT: Global Economy in the Asian Age definitely is a book with a message. Its author sets out to challenge what according to him are the received opinions in historiography and social science on the making of the modern world. He does so relentlessly and overturns the ideas of such influential scholars as Marx, Weber, Polanyi, Rostow, Braudel and Wallerstein. As a matter of fact, of almost everybody who has ever touched upon the subject. All these misled if not downright misleading scholars are thought to suffer from Eurocentrism. Which of course is a Bad Thing. Frank uses the word to refer to people who profess to tell the history of the world but do so by preponderantly gazing at their European navel, unduly magnifying Europe's uniqueness and role in world history.

The economist Hal Hill begins his authoritative survey of the Indonesian economy under Soeharto's “New Order” (Orde Baru) government with quotes from leading development economists, who are singularly pessimistic about the prospects for economic growth in Indonesia. A negative assessment such as that given by Swedish Nobel Prize Laureate Gunnar Myrdal is understandable as he was writing at the time of the severe economic crisis accompanying the eclipse of Sukarno's “Old Order” (Orde Lama) in the mid-1960s. More surprising is the verdict of Benjamin Higgins, known to have coined the expression “chronic dropout” for Indonesia. Higgins had spent quite a bit of time in Indonesia in the early 1950s as an advisor from the World Bank. Was his harsh verdict, akin to the oft-heard epithet “perpetual underachiever”, based on his own personal observations in the newly independent nation, or was his judgement also coloured by the near-collapse of the economy in the mid-1960s? The received dismal view of Indonesia's economic performance under Sukarno forms the logical point of departure for this article.

In 1879, the Danish Ministry of Domestic Affairs approved a proposal to construct a building in Copenhagen that was meant to function as a boarding house for Greenlanders while they were being educated in the metropole. The building, “Grønlænderhjemmet”, was used as a boarding house for Greenlanders in Denmark from 1880 until 1896, when the practice of sending Greenlandic men to Denmark for educational purposes came to a halt. While in use, “Grønlænderhjemmet” functioned as an instrument for the colonial administration, and the boarding house embodied a central aspect of the colonial administration's strategy for civilising Greenlanders: to control the civilising process in order to ensure that Greenlanders did not loose their connection with their Inuit background.

In the interwar years, the colonial powers of the day instantly saw long-range radio technology as an instrument to strengthen their empires as it enabled broadcasters in the European metropoles to reach audiences in the peripheries via the ether. This article focuses on the Dutch colonial station PHOHI, a company that pioneered global radio broadcasting. The station was founded by a group of influential entrepreneurs in order to strengthen ties between the Netherlands and the Dutch East Indies by reaching out to colonial expatriates. This case study shows how geopolitical and ideological considerations shaped both the organisation and the content of Dutch intercontinental broadcasting.

Among epidemic diseases, plague is particularly charged with historical memory and ominous cultural connotations. In many parts of the world, plague's seemingly mysterious origins, its gruesome ways of spreading, and its powers of devastation have raised it to a symbol of evil. In several languages, the word “plague” itself has become synonymous with scourge and universal disaster over the centuries. However, plague is not only a disease from the remote past; it also exemplifies the biological globalisation of modern times, highlighting at once socio-biological phenomena, global connectedness, and other dimensions of modernity. In particular, outbreaks of the so-called third plague pandemic from the late nineteenth to the mid-twentieth century made the disease an oppressive reality in many regions of the world.

On March 12 this year I gave an informal talk to the ‘overseas history group’ in which I tried to sketch in the development and atmosphere of major Southeast Asia programs in the USA and Australia, with particular reference to the influence of the social sciences on approaches to Indonesian history. My opinions were based on personal impressions and were utterly non-expert; it was therefore with some reluctance that I agreed to try and summarize my talk for Itinerario. No historian should publish without doing some research, but since I was assured that the very informality and casualness of my approach was a recommendation, I will do my best.

The development of a global perspective in anthropology is a very different kind of phenomenon from that in economics or economic history. In the latter disciplines, the field of enquiry may easily be extended to the entire world, or at least to large enough portions of it that systemic supra-society relations are clearly discernable. The periodic appearance of an intellectual orientation to global relations – from the mercantilistists to the dependency theorists – is clear evidence of the availability of the larger perspective. The more common focus on the nation state or, by abstraction, the “society”, as the locus of analysis and explanation has been a reflex of the emergence of national cycles of economic reproduction in the nineteenth century. Ricardo, Marx, Keynes and much modern development theory restrict the field of enquiry to the single society where all the necessary conditions of reproduction and thus, explanation, are thought to be located (Friedman 1976, 1978). Finally, with the emergence after World War Two of a center/periphery model of imperialism, a global perspective has again gained prominence.

In the production of tropical export crops, the factor labour has always overshadowed the two other factors, land and capital. In the days prior to the mechanisation of agriculture, that is to say, far into the second half of the 19th century, the factor capital almost coincided with labour. “Des bras, des bras, toujours des bras” as the saying went among the planters of the Mascareignes. However, it would be wrong to suggest that before the industrial revolution the relative importance of labour only manifested itself in the production of tropical export crops. There is a revered tradition in economic theory which considers labour to be the only source of wealth. Thus, Karl Marx proposed that the value produced by a labourer above the maintenance level should be designated as surplus value. For him, the control of this surplus lay at the basis of each “mode of production” (his term for a stage of development). Each mode of production was characterised by a specific set of social relations between the labourer, the ruling class that appropriates the surplus value, and the means of production. Labour and the labour process therefore were in his eyes a social phenomenon. One might add they are inherent to the tissue of authorities that constituate any social order.

This article examines five wars that occurred on the Malay-Thai Peninsula in the period 1785–1838 and the deep impact they had upon women's lives during and after the conflicts. Constituting the majority of surviving refugees, women rebuilt their lives in the wake of war through business and trade in Malaya, as Islamic teachers in Mecca and Southeast Asia, and as servants and slaves in Bangkok. In each of these settings, women encountered new forms of agency and newfound challenges, shifting cultural values that regulated decisions and actions, and evolving perceptions of the qualifications for leadership. Focused upon the political demise of the Patani Sultanate, a state with a long history of female rule, this study is of particular relevance to scholarly debates concerning women in contemporary warfare because of its transnational focus with keen attention to women in a variety of Islamic spaces and contexts, its aim of dispelling the pervasive notion of Muslim women as lacking agency, and as a point of comparison for the present armed conflict still raging in Southern Thailand that has claimed more than five thousand and continues to impact women and gender dynamics in the region.

In July of 1633, Captain Sussex Camock set sail from London with around 50 men to establish an English outpost on the mainland of Central America. His voyage was sponsored by members of the Providence Island Company, recent founders of a Puritan colony on two small islands 150 miles off the coast of Nicaragua (fig. 1). Company adventurers—so called because they ventured their capital—instructed Captain Camock to establish a “Colony upon the Mayne” and to start a trade with local Indians. The group was directed to “carry themselves wislie and modestlie towards the Indyans, for the honor of our Religion and nation”. They were to endear themselves “to the Indyans…and by some reasonable guise to winn their Friendship”. In case the Indians did not have sufficient commodities to trade, Camock's men were implored to investigate the region for any and all potential resources, “or to give ye full Intelligence of the possibilities of that designe”. The adventurers specifically sought information about:

Minh Hương—often translated as ‘Ming Refugees’, became a powerful interest group in Vietnamese commerce, colonization, and politics between the seventeenth and nineteenth centuries. Curiously, they remain understudied and misunderstood by both Vietnamese and Overseas Chinese specialists. This results from confusion about Minh Hương identity and origins, which this article addresses by analyzing the evolution of the group’s identity and the interests and institutions that shaped it. Far from static, Minh Hương identity formed, metamorphosed, and all but disappeared due to the interplay between changing circumstances and adaptive responses that continually reshaped the content of Minh Hương identity whenever “outside” circumstances challenged them. In this way, the Minh Hương evolved from its merchant diaspora origins into a powerful merchant-bureaucratic class that exploited the institutions that Vietnamese matrilineage and Chinese patrilineage afforded them in order to advance its commercial and political interests. When their status eroded in the nineteenth century, the Minh Hương redefined their group as a minority ethnicity in defense of diminishing rights. Far from the powerless refugee minority image their name implies, their behaviour so reminiscent of merchant cultures from the Sogdians to the Swahili, the Minh Hương deserves greater consideration in the literature on merchant cultures in world history.

L'Inde, on le sait, compte parmi les exemples de choix de ce qu'on appelle de nos jours le sous-développement. Le motif n'est pas récent. On le retrouve depuis le XVIIe siècle déjà dans les rapports et mémoires des Européens, employés des compagnies ou autres voyageurs. Tel ce directeur du comptoir hollandais à Surat qui s'indigne de l'inefficacité, de l'insouciance et de la corruption des autorités. Lors d'un incendie sérieux dans la ville aucun des notables ne fait quoique ce soit. D'ailleurs qu'est-ce qu'ils auraient pu faire en l'absence totale du matériel nécessaire? Pourtant Surat n'est pas un bled quelconque, mais une ville riche et importante. Plus grave encore, personne ne s'inquiete de ce que son ports'ensable progressivement à cause des alluvions apportées par la rivière. Non seulement personne ne s'en inquiète, mais on aggrave encore les choses en déchargeant le lest dans la rivière. En fin de compte notre témoin doute fort qu'aucune ville placée sous le régime des Mogols puisse durer pour longtemps). Est-ce le sous-développement pur et simple? Ou est-ce qu'il y a autre chose qui joue?

Japan's opening up in the mid-1850s and the ensuing spread of Western influence caused a fundamental dislocation in the country's socio-cultural life. Values and habits were rocked to their core after centuries of isolation, and people were quite helpless for how to come to terms with this rapid influx of foreign things. Faced with abrupt and severe changes, they felt deeply disoriented and their self-awareness was considerably shaken. This soon led to differentiation in attitudes toward the Western challenge. Some insisted that people should reconstruct their identity just by adjusting to Western standards. Modernisation was the only choice in their eyes and they believed that Japan should make efforts to adopt Western ways into every aspect of the nation's life. Customs and manners had to be reexamined based on this new criteria and reformed accordingly or, if this was ever impossible, abolished. Others, however, saw in it nothing more than shameful mimicry. They believed that the nation's self-confidence would be lost if people were absorbed in Westernisation. Instead they thought that Japan's cultural backbone should build on the country's long-standing rich traditions, rather than being dazzled by the superficial affluence of Western civilisation.

In the summer of 1916, the British Salonica Army and the Cyprus colonial government established the Cypriot Mule Corps (officially called the Macedonian Mule Corps), composed of mostly of Christian (Eastern Orthodox, and smaller numbers of Catholics, Armenians, and Maronites) and Muslim Cypriot muleteers and interpreters. These men served mostly in Salonica during the war and in Istanbul after the armistice. Although given the title of “Macedonian” Mule Corps, it was almost exclusively Cypriot in composition, with a staggering enlistment of about 12,000 Cypriots from every religious group in Cyprus. This article explores the formation of the corps, muleteer numbers, and recruitment strategies. It argues that there were both push and pull factors in understanding the striking enlistment of between 20 and 25 per cent of peasant and labouring men aged between 18 and 39.

In the aftermath of the Islamic conquests of the seventh and early eighth centuries the territory which came under effective domination of the caliphate extended from the Iberian peninsula and North Africa to Central Asia and into the Persian-Indian borderland of Sind which for three centuries remained its easternmost frontier. Beyond Sind a vast area was left unconquered which the Arabs called al-Hind and which, in their conception, embraced both India and the Indianised states of the Indonesian archipelago and Southeast Asia. In the countless kingdoms of al-Hind the Muslims penetrated, up to the eleventh century, only as traders. By the time that Islamic power was established in North India the political unity of the Abbasid caliphate was already lost. Neither India nor Indonesia were provinces of the classical Islamic state. But in the Middle East three decisive developments had occurred and these created patterns which were to survive the political fragmentation of the empire. Most important was that a thoroughly commercialized and monetised economy with a bureaucracy and a fiscal polity had been established which continued to expand. Secondly, from the ninth century onwards, the Islamic military-bureaucratic apparatus had begun to be staffed with imported slaves on an extended scale. And thirdly, from its Arab roots the Islamic conquest state had shifted to a Persianised foundation, adopting Persian culture and the Sassanid tradition of monarchy and statecraft.

In 1643, a Moluccan mestizo soldier named Alexo de Castro was arrested by the Holy Office of the Inquisition in the multicultural Manila barrio of Binondo. Suspected of secretly observing the Muslim faith in Manila, Castro faced inquisitorial investigations that culminated in his trial and punishment in Mexico. Based on evidence from Philippine, Mexican, and Spanish archives, this article examines Castro’s inquisition trial in the broader context of the seventeenth-century Hispano-Asian Pacific world that stretched from Mexico to Manila and the Moluccas. Within its permeable and shifting maritime boundaries, this transpacific cosmopolis was shaped by notions of Catholic universalism and orthodoxy present both in Spanish imperial ideology and in local adaptations. This article draws upon the Castro trial to reveal the tensions of this expanding world. On the one hand, Alexo’s mestizo genealogy and conversion to Catholicism, his work as a go-between in the Moluccas, and long career as a soldier for Spain and Portugal all reveal, on an intimate scale, the innumerable transits that interconnected this seventeenth-century world. On the other, Castro’s trial exposes the political-religious anxieties of Manila’s inquisitors, who saw in Castro a global threat posed by cosmopolitan New Christians – the moriscos, conversos, and indigenous converts whose adaptability and mobility helped to build this transpacific cosmopolis but also seemed to undermine it. By juxtaposing Alexo’s court arguments with those of his inquisitors, this study explores the limits of pluralism, cosmopolitanism, and exclusivism on this volatile seventeenth-century Pacific frontier.

The survival of the Spanish empire after the loss of the mainland American colonies is a neglected subject, and no part of it is more neglected than its economic features. General histories of Spain in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries rarely touch on overseas matters, although the colonies do occasionally appear centre stage, as in 1868, when the Cuban Creoles rose in rebellion; in 1898, when Spain lost most of her colonies as a result of war with America; in 1921, when the Berber tribes of Northern Morocco defeated the Spanish army; and in 1936, when General Franco and his coconspirators raised the standard of rebellion against the Republic in North Western Africa. But these references are episodic and essentially political, indeed military in nature. There is little structural analysis of what the colonies meant to Spain, least of all in the economic field.

The publication of Africa and the Victorians in 1961 challenged the prevaling orthodoxy regarding the European scramble for territory during the last decades of the nineteenth century. In it, Ronald Robinson and John Gallagher argued that what had been traditionally viewed as qualitatively new was merely a difference ol degree and not kind. Subsequent studies, especially the work of David Fieldhouse, effectively laid to rest the assumption that new developments in Europe were the cause of the rush for colonies after 1880. And yet historians generally have been reluctant to abandon the ‘age of imperialism’ as an appropriate epithet for late-Victorian Europe. The sheer amount of territory conquered by Europeans in so short a span ol time seemingly compels teachers ol modern history survey courses to view the period 1880–1914 from a traditional perspective and with resort to established nomenclature. Does the historical rubric, ‘age of imperialism’, still have pedagogic value? The answer is a qualified affirmative, provided that its chronological moorings are anchored elsewhere.

All historical research, however micro and focussed can be represented as part of a process of ‘reconfiguration’ Research is simply the crafts dominant and traditional activity of transforming archival evidence into printed narratives which validate, qualify and occasionally demolish dominant meta-narratives. Most historians continue to be engaged in Von Ranke's grand project for construction of history by making different, more durable and better quality bricks that are piled up awaiting to be used as more modern architecture for national histories. They agree as a point of discipline (if not belief) that this remains the best way to proceed. Some (as Randolph Churchill remarked of Gladstone) are ‘old men in a hurry’ and opting.to proceed from the top down by relocating national histories within the wider spaces, larger chronologies and cosmopolitan concerns of global history.