A History of Libya

John Wright's revised and updated A History of Libya is a worthy and problematic introduction to Libyan history. Any attempt to encompass over 2000 years of history in a short book is doomed, so it mostly covers the 20th century and the Gadafi (Gaddafi) regime. Wright, though revising and updating this general history to include the fall of Gaddafi during the Arab Spring, retained a number of perhaps outdated or incorrect assertions. For example, Wright must have written the initial form of this book in an era when proponents of large-scale trans-Saharan trade in Antiquity were more influential. Wright also misidentifies Dunama of the Sayfawa dynasty as a Borno king even though Kanem was still the core province. Sometimes Wright's characterization of Libya's dependence on oil seems a little unfair, particularly for repeatedly referring to its oil wealth as unearned even though Libya was just exploiting a valuable resource. Of course, historians or scholars today in 2022 would also have more sources to piece together the tumultuous final days of Gaddafi and the continual unrest in Libya today. Perhaps with the benefit of hindsight, we know the consequences of NATO intervention in the Libyan civil war eventually contributed to the multifaceted crises in that country and the plight of migrants in the Mediterranean. 

Despite our quibbles with Wright's general history, it perfectly demonstrates a number of interesting points pertinent to our interests in Kanem-Borno and trans-Saharan contacts between Tripoli and the Chad Basin. Wright begins with the prehistoric Sahara, Phoenician settlements, Greeks in Cyrenaica, the Garamantes, and the expanding Roman Empire. While this is not directly relevant to Kanem-Borno, the early appearance of the Garamantes and Tripolitania's position between the Sahara and the Mediterranean illustrates the significance of Libya: a bridge between the Mediterranean and the vast African interior. Obviously the scale and value of trans-Saharan trade and contacts between the Mediterranean coast of Libya and sub-Saharan Africa increased after the Arab conquests. And Tripolitania under Roman rule appears to have been far more self-sufficient agriculturally, exporting to Rome a surplus. So, Tripoli after the Arab conquest, especially after the Banu Hilal migrations, became less successful in terms of its agrarian economy and increasingly reliant on its corsair activity in the Mediterranean as well as trans-Saharan slave trading. Even if this activity was parasitic, as suggested by Wright, it supports an assertion by Dewiere that Tripoli relied more on the trans-Saharan trade than Borno. Consequently, the trans-Saharan factor in Libyan history is a huge one that developed over time since the Garamantes of the Fezzan, a merging of Mediterranean and African networks that benefitted Libya.

However, most of Wright's book is actually on 20th century Libya. The decades-long Italian conquest, not truly accomplished until Fascist Italy completed the process in the 1930s, represents an interesting convergence of fascism and colonialism. Drawing on the past of the Roman Empire in Tripolitania, Mussolini's Italy actually invested far more in Libya than they took out it. Their vision of the "Fourth Shore" as a settler colony for peasant farmers of Italy was disrupted by World War II. Libya in the postwar years became a Sanussi kingdom which, through oil, became less dependent on aid or leasing military bases to Britain and the US. With the arrival of Gaddafi, an extremely long dictatorship would usher in various failed political, social and economic reforms with the use of oil revenue. Sanctions, tensions with the West, and failed pan-Arabism eventually led Gaddafi to a rapprochement with the Western powers before his ignominious fall. Throughout its rocky years as an independent state, Libya remained a nation in spite of the strong regional cleavages and other differences within its population. The Fezzan, Cyrenaica, and Tripolitania might as well have been separate nations. 

Intriguingly, Gaddafi's attempts to turn himself into a pan-Africanist hero and expand Libyan influence in sub-Saharan Africa represented a modern version of Libya's historic role as the crossroads of Africa and Europe. While undoubtedly opportunistic and a failure in the despot's war with Chad, it is remarkable that Gaddafi's African "turn" developed in a context where Libya was far less connected to sub-Saharan Africa than it once was. Over the course of the several millennia of known Libyan history, the link to Saharan and sub-Saharan Africa has always been a factor whose magnitude has varied across time. One region of modern Libya, the Fezzan, may been seen as "Sudanic" during some phases in its history. In that regard, the history of this North African nation is indicative of how closely entwined the worlds of Africa and Europe have been since the Roman Empire, even if its legacy has not always been for the best.

The Sun Kings and the Central Sudan

Reyna's Wars without End: The Political Economy of a Precolonial African State is one of the few serious studies on the kingdom of Bagirmi accessible online. While mostly based on the 19th century and applying structural Marxist theoretical models to understanding the the Bagirmi state, Reyna proposes some interesting and plausible ideas on this kingdom as an example of predatory accumulation. In some respects, the analysis of Bagirmi's institutions and the role of war can be seen in Kanem-Borno, Wadai and Darfur. All these states seem to be influenced by similar ecological and demographic profiles with some common or shared influences from Kanem's formation sometime in the late first millennium of our era. In other words, the importance of labor in agrarian societies with low productivity shaped by a challenging environment (unpredictable rainfall levels in Bagirmi, for example, or the desiccation of Kanem after 1200), and a household state structure meant that these kingdoms or empires required a system of tribute, taxation and booty through raids to support an elite class of office holders and royal court. 

Family life presents one obvious case of parallels and similarities between Bagirmi and Borno. The domestic mode of production in Bagirmi bears a resemblance to that of Borno in that agriculture was carried out by patrilineal or patrifocal extended kin who, in theory, followed the directives of a male head of the unit. Juniors in this extended family unit were expected to show deference to their superiors until they married and became "successful" by having many children and starting their own unit. This brings to mind Cohen's conclusions on Kanuri family structure and the emphasis on respect or discipline-respect between patrons and clients. A successful Kanuri male would have had many wives, children, and dependents. Having dependents was a source of wealth since they produced the labor that could support his farm or other endeavors. A Kanuri, at least during the time of Cohen's fieldwork, might attach himself as a client to a wealthy or important Kanuri who could one day look out for his interests and assist him. Like the Barma officials of the royal court, government officials in Borno seem to have developed similar patron-client ties with their staff or court staff. Kanuri domestic life seems to have been similar, too, with the domestic mode of production of the village being mirrored by that of the state. 

For the officials of Bagirmi and Borno, more similarities can be found. In order to militarily arm and reward their followers or clients (perhaps clients is more accurate in the Kanuri case than that of the Barma), booty, especially slaves, were necessary to purchase imported horses, weapons, chainmail, or luxuries via trans-Saharan trade. This produced a cycle of contradictions in which the state relied on taxation of surplus crops cultivated by free farmers (with some slave villages in each of the aforementioned kingdoms) at low productivity. The constant raids and levying of tribute in order to supplement this for the ruling group (the mbangs of Bagirmi, mais of Kanem-Borno, kolaks of Wadai) in turn created difficulties for states or acephalous societies in the tributary or predatory zones by harming their domestic mode of production that was often similarly of low productivity. 

Moreover, some of the societies in tributary or predatory zones of the main kingdoms developed into military powers of their own, creating additional tributary or predatory zones that could challenge the "imperial" states and extend the system of predatory accumulation deeper into areas inhabited by "pagans" or kirdi. Reyna does not speculate on this, but one wonders if the origins of Bagirmi and Wadai can be traced to an earlier past as victims of raids from Kanem-Borno before becoming tributary states who gradually asserted themselves into regional powers of the Chad Basin. The Central Sudanic state seems to have preferred to have tributary and predatory zones separating itself from other centralized kingdoms, but the systemic instability of predatory accumulation would have eventually led to the the emergence of other cores that threatened, say, Kanem and later on, Borno. 

The central role played by Kanem-Borno as a major model for Bagirmi and other states in the Chad Basin suggests Bagirmi's history is also one of the contradictory diffusion of a Kanuri model or civilization across much of the Chad Basin (and beyond). According to Reyna, 24 percent of the titles in Bagirmi's court were of Kanuri origin. Similar Kanuri influences can be found as far away as Darfur, Fezzan, and Hausaland. The Sayfawa state appears to have exerted its influence across a vast range of the Central Sudan in a manner that created tributary states which gradually incorporated or adapted aspects of Sayfawa administration. In turn, their states continued or developed a similar state that relied on war and predatory accumulation which, after several centuries, eroded Sayfawa dominance of the Chad Basin. However, because the Kanem state was the origin of the model, even states which had long evaded Sayfawa suzerainty may have found it advantageous to associate with the past regional hegemon whose rulers enjoyed the most ancient association with Islam. This might account for local perception of Borno as the dominant power in the Central Sudan even after its decline in the 18th century. Even tiny Mandara could defeat Borno in 1781, yet others described it as the greatest or most powerful kingdom in the Sudan.

However, knowing that part of Borno's economy was built on the trade in salt, textiles, and its privileged position in trans-Saharan trade links to the Fezzan and Tripoli, one cannot help but wonder if the Sayfawa state did deviate from the predatory accumulation model seen in Bagirmi. According to Dewiere, for instance, Borno did not necessarily procure most of its slave exports from raids carried out by Bornoans. Instead, Borno became a depot for the slave exports of Bagirmi in the 18th century (and probably far earlier). Borno's functioning as a depot and its once dominant position in the movement of salt and textiles must have favored market growth and a prosperous merchant class. While they appear to have not invested in production, we would not be surprised if slave villages were more prominent in Borno than in Bagirmi. Furthermore, Borno faced Hausaland to the west, and was therefore tapped into a vast commercial network that moved kola nuts, salt, leather products, horses, and textiles and even gold. Before the Sokoto Caliphate's rise, Borno appears to have been the economic center of this vast network which must have encouraged some investments in production, market growth, and capital accumulation. Indeed, we know from Heinrich Barth that Kanuri or Bornoan migrants played a pivotal role in Bagirmi's 19th century textile industry. Perhaps Borno was able to deviate from predatory accumulation just before the shocks of the jihad of the early 19th century forever reoriented the Central Sudan. 

Medieval Nubia

A very enlightening talk on medieval Nubia by Ruffini has been something we are revisiting this week. Although our primary interest is in Kanem-Borno, it has been rewarding to consider larger "Sudanic Africa" and some of the possible connections among the various peoples and historical states or kingdoms in the precolonial era.

The Kongolese Saint Anthony

Although the Kingdom of Kongo is far removed from Kanem-Borno, Sudanic Africa, or Solomonic Ethiopia, we felt it would be interesting to include at this blog a short piece on Thornton's study of a religious movement led by a Kongolese woman. Kongolese Christianity is of course quite different than our interests in Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity or the tale of Roman Catholicism in West Central Africa, but perhaps of interest for another African historical state's engagement with the faith. 

Although I am usually a fan of John K. Thornton's work, The Kongolese Saint Anthony: Dona Beatriz Kimpa Vita and the Antonian Movement, 1684-1706 was a dry text full of academic jargon and very little of it pertained to the Antonian movement led by Dona Beatriz. It was focused more on the context of the Antonian movement and the political crisis of the decentralized Kongo kingdom than anything else, with lots of useful details about the depths to which Catholic ideology and rituals were commonly practiced, even in regions with few priests. Thornton also does an excellent job describing everyday life, urban life, the Kimpasi secret society, some of the ravages of the slave trade (as well as how the Bobangi formed their own secret society based on restoring the ethical harm of their slave trading activities), Kongolese relations with the Portuguese and other Europeans, and the high degree of religious syncretism with a longer tradition of syncretistic messianic movements.

However, the text was really not about the Antonian movement and its inspiring leader, Dona Beatriz, who wished to restore the Kongo kingdom and claimed to be possessed by Saint Anthony. Furthermore, Thornton, partly out of necessity and the limits of historical knowledge at this time, is heavily reliant on textual sources left by Capuchin missionaries and other Europeans, who, disliked Dona Beatriz and used European cultural lens to denigrate spirit possession as demonic. Thus, we have a text that relies on some biased and inaccurate (and incomplete) sources, very dry writing that waxes endlessly about the political intrigue and conflict among Kongolese elites to claim the throne, and does not focus on the Antonian movement as a whole. Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy large sections of the text, particularly those referring to culture, art, religious syncretism, and some of the 'everyday life' details of late 17th century and early 18th century West Central Africa. Unfortunately, I am not entirely sure if I 'buy' Thornton's interpretation of the Antonian movement and its role in the political crisis of the fragmented Kongo state. As several reviewers have stated, there are many problems with some of the sources Thornton relies on, the structure of the book and how it marginalizes the very woman it should focus on, an avoidance of the 'fluid gender performances' of Dona Beatriz's possession by Saint Anthony, and the more complex topic of "Kongo" proto-nationalism, which seems to be relevant.

Nevertheless, the book is a useful and necessary quick read for all those interested in a detailed account of some aspects of the Antonian movement. A more interdisciplinary account that included art, gender, anthropological sources, and how the Antonian movement was internally structured (for instance, Thornton states that Beatriz's movement spread from her original home and the ancient capital through 'mini-Saint Antony's, or, some of her followers who supposedly carried her message throughout the kingdom and attracted peasant followers) would have made this book great.

"Blackness" in Early Christianity

We perused Gay L. Byron's Symbolic Blackness and Ethnic Difference in Early Christian Literature. The book was too short to properly address some of the deeper questions of race and 'blackness' in early Christian discourse. However, Byron's strength lies in challenging some of the previous assertions about notable cases of 'blacks' in patristic writings, exegesis, Biblical passions and commentary, and monastic writings based on the desert fathers of  Egypt. Any discussion of early Christianity and "blackness" raises a number of interesting questions about the history of the religion, its relation to the Roman Empire, Antiquity, and, hopefully, the actual "black" Christians in northeast Africa (Nubia, Aksum) or beyond. The implications of this will reverberate in more recent centuries of evangelization and conversion in Africa 

First, one must ascertain whether one agrees with the collective 'black' group of Egypt and Ethiopia for analyzing the discourse on race, color, and ethnic difference in ethno-political rhetoric of early Christianity. Some, for instance, might take issue with Byron's inclusion of Egyptians as 'black.' One can see see why one would, particularly given a later chapter's focus on how monastic communities in Roman Egypt distanced themselves from "Ethiopians" (Ethiopians in this context refers to dark-skinned people from Africa, not necessarily modern Ethiopia). However, if one remembers that blackness can be broad and reads the Greco-Roman and Christian sources, one could find numerous examples of pre-Christian Greco-Roman literature and Christian writings that refer to Egyptians as "blacks" or associate them (alongside Ethiopians) with ethno-political rhetoric that clearly lumps them as a collective 'black group.' In that sense, I concur with Byron including Egypt as part of this trend in Greco-Roman literature around the Mediterranean, because we have examples from Herodotus, Aristotle, a plethora of Greco-Roman writers, Greek Alexandrians, and Christian references that clearly distinguish Egyptians from a presumably 'white' or intermediary color non-Egyptian peoples of the circum-Mediterranean used to refer to themselves (if Suetonius can compare Egyptians and Ethiopians to demons and emblems of darkness, clearly both groups were perceived as 'black' to some degree).

Upon establishing the veracity of Byron's categorizations, one can assess the remainder of her claims. She is certainly well-read in the necessary secondary sources on Greco-Roman and Christian views of blackness in Late Antiquity (she's clearly read Thompson, Brakke, Snowden, and a myriad of other classicists and specialists). Undoubtedly, negative views of blackness in the Greco-Roman world proliferated throughout the Mediterranean and shaped how Christian and Jewish communities perceived dark-skinned people, too. Indeed, as Thompson and others have established, Greco-Roman views of "blacks" (be they Egyptian, Ethiopian, or black, melas) as representatives of the extreme ends of the earth, blackness equated with immorality, lust, and evil, or ugliness and the use of color symbolism to associate blackness with moral inferiority, criminality, unpleasant odors, and other stereotypes influenced patristic literature and Christian thought. Indeed, as Byron intriguingly demonstrates, native Egyptians in Roman Egypt were marginalized, excluded from Roman citizenship, and elite Jews, Romans, and Greeks living in Alexandria all adopted a condescending and superior attitude to Egyptians. Furthermore, Egyptians were equated with geographical extremity, mythic idealization, described as dark-skinned or black, and equated with evil, heresy, and sin by Jewish and early Christian communities. These numerous parallels with pejorative and negative views of Ethiopians by Greco-Roman figures from Juvenal to the Church Fathers with views of Egyptians certainly helps make the case for viewing them as a whole rather than separate groups in relation to lighter-skinned Greeks, Romans, and Near Eastern populations.

Let's look at Byron's take on some examples of Christian adoption and adaptation of broader Roman views of blackness and how that shaped Christianity. For instance, the use of blackness, Ethiopians, and Egyptians as polemical devices in the work of Tertullian, who used the notion of Egypt and Ethiopia as sinful lands to discourage Christians from attending spectacles (or other events popular among pagans in the Roman Empire). Writers such as Jerome refer to Ethiopians as 'blackened' by their sins while Origen looks at the black bride in Song of Songs as a metaphor for the Gentile Church, which, becomes beautiful and white through conversion and baptism. So ethno-political rhetoric of Christian authors could reflect poorly on blacks as sinful, heretics such as the Arianist or Nestorian 'heresies,' and lustful as in the stories of Egyptian monastic communities and their fear of Ethiopian demons symbolizing lust and temptation. Or "blacks" could be used (Egyptians, Ethiopians, and blackness) to express the inclusive, universal extent of Christian salvation (such as in the works of Augustine, Origen, or even the stories of Moses the Black in Upper Egyptian monastic communities). This is not too surprising, and something observable in non-Christian Greco-Roman literature (Pliny and a few others write positively of blacks, despite the difference in what Thompson refers to as black deviance from the somatic norm of the Roman world).

Where it differs, however, is in how Christianity was, by its very nature, inevitably tied to the idea of universal salvation through the proselytizing efforts of early Christians such as Paul. Blacks could assimilate in the Roman world (such as, perhaps, the writer, Terence, of Carthage), just as in Christianity ('blacks' in Egyptian monasteries or Egyptian Christians themselves were proof of black inclusion, as were the tales of the Ethiopian eunuch from Acts 8:26). Christianity's radical equalizing message about the disappearance of status, ethnic difference, and slave or free in the eyes of God, however, was a far more egalitarian message than anything found among the pagan elite of the Roman Empire. If differences such as Gentile or Jew, Scythian or barbarian, slave or free, ultimately did not matter before Christ, Christianity offered a far more fulfilling and welcoming space for ethnic difference than it is given credit for. Of course, rhetoric is different from reality, and clearly social divisions within Christian communities based on ethnic difference, class, and status shaped the evolution of the faith (and it's numerous heresies, divisive church councils, etc.), as one would expect. But the promise of universalism and Christian redemption meant even the blackest of Ethiopians could be washed 'white' or have a 'white soul' if they accept Christianity.

Thus, despite some ugly color symbolism and discomforting ethno-political rhetoric, it is known for certain that some Christian writers did not mean literal 'black' populations when using Ethiopians, Egyptians, and blackness as metaphors for sinfulness, lust, or demons. It nevertheless can be used to suggest blackness is demonic or aesthetically inferior, but as Origen's commentary on the black bride shows, Christianity was 'black' in its early years but purified and washed white by orthodox, non-heretical practices and inclusiveness. If even the blackest Ethiopians and whitest Scythians were eligible for redemption, then all corners of the oikumene and everything in between are welcomed to Christian fraternity. Now, what we wish Byron had demonstrated in these chapters is a dedication to unveiling the etymology of blackness as a sign of moral shortcomings and evil in the Christian context. Did this just arise from Zoroastrianism and previous religions, or perhaps something embedded in ancient religious thought (an association of blackness with evil, moral darkness, and ugliness?). Of course, we know that in ancient Egypt blackness was associated with fertility and divinity, but how did the predominantly "anti-black" view of darkness spread in the Roman world?

We also believe Byron's work was weakened by a lack of attention to the question of Egyptian perceptions of their southern neighbors during the Christian era. Or a better answer as to the composition of many of the monastic communities of Egypt (where these 'desert fathers' fostered the model for Christian monasticism that would later spread to the 'West') instead of saying some were lowly Copts at the bottom of Egyptian society whereas others were Hellenized elites. The cosmopolitan, unstable, and multiethnic Upper Egypt-Nubia border deserves a more detailed description and overview to properly place Egyptian views of 'blackness' in Late Antiquity in the proper context. Byron is probably right that the violent raids and burglaries committed by invading Blemmyes and other 'black' peoples ransacking Upper Egypt in the late Roman period shaped the later recordings of stories attributed to monks of facing temptation and danger from "Ethiopian demons." What was the 'racial climate' of Roman Egypt during this period of Blemmyes' and Nubian military threat? Clearly the situation on the ground was more complex as some Nubians continued to worship the old gods like Isis at the temple at Philae, while others would adopt Christianity or even join the monks! How can one accurately describe Egyptians using ethno-political rhetoric in Christian writings against other dark-skinned people? Was this an instance of "defensive othering" on the part of Egyptians? Of course, the question of malodorous black women tempting Egyptian monks speaks more to their attraction to black women (though women were rare and all generalized as the embodiment of physical pleasure and lust by monks), but the question of gender dynamics and self-denigration of blacks to be fully incorporated (Moses the Black was taunted, insulted, and mocked for the color of his skin to test virtues of a monk, such as apathy and patience), suggests pejorative connotations of "blackness" in society. Stories of Anthony and Moses the Black were not recorded until decades or centuries after the historical figures lived, but it provides some insight onto how ethno-political discourse used the political and social realities of the day to frame "blackness" in Christian Egypt. 

Overall, Byron's text is thought-provoking and a worthwhile read, but too brief. It avoids answering some larger questions. Byron had no interest in psychoanalysis of some of these patristic writers or other classical sources, but more inclusion of psychoanalysis and theories of race or ethnic difference would have added more nuance to the discussion. A fuller discussion of 'race' in the Nile Valley, specifically mention of Nubian Christianity, and Aksumite conversion to the faith would have some important implications for the theory of ethnopolitical rhetorical discourse and "blackness" in a Late Antique and "medieval" context. That is the next frontier, a fuller and more integrative look at African Christianity in Nubia, and Ethiopia, which could shed light on how those territories embraced, adapted, adopted, or rejected the symbolic "blackness" of early Christianity. Another question, how pervasive were elite Roman and Greek views of 'blackness' in Egypt then? Was there a trickle down effect of certain color symbolism and stereotypes ideologically throughout the expanding Christian world?

Black Folk Here and There

St. Clair Drake's 2 volume essay in history and anthropology, Black Folk Here and There, inspired by a similarly titled book by W.E.B. DuBois, is an exploration of the presence of "Negro" or "Black" people throughout recorded history, ending with the rise of anti-black prejudice. He explores the role and presence of "Black" people in ancient Egypt, the Greco-Roman world, early Christianity, and the Islamic world, searching for evidence of anti-black bias or racist views in each of these periods in world history. The founder of Stanford's African-American Studies department, and well-known for his sociological work in Black Metropolis, an analysis of Chicago's African-American population in the 1940s, Drake is well-suited to vindicate the legacy of "Black" Africans prior to the Atlantic slave trade, spending most of the first volume providing evidence of "Negro" Egyptian dynasts and contributions to the development of Egyptian civilization through documentary, artistic, and other evidence. 

Thus, Drake's first volume, concluding with the rise of Roman-dominated Egypt, rightfully challenges the approach of most Egyptologists and historians who render all "Negroes" into slaves and laborers for "whites" in the ancient Nile Valley and Mediterranean. However, unlike extreme Afrocentrists, Drake avoids making irrational claims and attempts to "blacken" everybody in ancient Egypt or the Near East. A weakness of his study also lies in the evidence from statuary and art, since color symbolism and ancient Egyptian tendency to represent the human form unrealistically makes it difficult to say or claim this or that figure, pharaoh, or god is "black" or "white." But in some cases it is uncontroversial (I am sure many readers would take qualm with his claims for "Black" Amarna pharaohs, best represented by Akhenaten) or very likely that some of the Early Dynastic, Old Kingdom, Middle Kingdom, New Kingdom rulers were "black" or had the somatic norm of "black Africans." Moreover, Drake uncovers no evidence of racial bias against "Nubians" or Kushites during periods of Egyptian imperialism in the Upper Nile, not even when, under Hellenic and Roman domination, when southerners, Egyptians, and Greco-Romans alike worshipped Isis at Philae, for instance.

The second volume of Drake's major publication covers ancient Jewish perceptions of Blackness, in the Old Testament and Talmud, as well as Early Christian, Islamic, and, ending with Iberia and the New World in the 15th and 16th centuries, signs of anti-black racism. He does not uncover signs of Jewish prejudice until the Talmud, which he attributes to Jews who, during the Babylonian Captivity, encountered enslaved East Africans and then added theories of the "curse of Ham" and black inferiority into their commentaries on the Torah. It is an interesting theory, but Drake does not provide evidence for trade linking Mesopotamia in this period with the East African coast, although it would help explain the sudden anti-black views of some Jewish religious leaders when, in the past, Moses was described as marrying a black woman and the kingdom of Judah was allied with the Egyptian-Kushite empire under Taharqa against the Assyrian empire. He also discusses the color symbolism of early Christianity, in which blackness of skin was equated with sin and Christian conversion as a way of "washing the Ethiopian white," something he associates with Manichean dualism of black/white color symbolism from ancient Persia, where darkness was seen as evil and white/lightness as good. Although his conclusions, somewhat similar to Snowden's work on the image of the 'black' in the Greco-Roman and early Christian Mediterranean are interesting, they're far from the highlight of the of book, which is strongest in its treatment of Nile Valley societies and race. He also challenges some of the then-dominant theories of racism and the origins of it, stating that color prejudice and anti-black views were not endemic in the ancient Nile Valley or during Antiquity.

His work also stands as a powerful rebuttal of Malvern Wan Wyk Smith's interesting but highly flawed monograph, The First Ethiopians: The Image of Africa and Africans in the Early Mediterranean World, claiming Ancient Egypt as the source for Western anti-black prejudice with very little evidence and a resurrection of outdated African racial types, such as Khoisanoid, to distinguish early Nile Valley populations from "Negroids." Furthermore, he relies on imagery of conquered Kushites and other nehesy, or southerners, in ancient Egyptian iconography as evidence for an aversion or disdain for "Negroid" Black features without any documentary evidence disparaging their facial features or showing signs of race or color prejudice. Moreover, his sources that actually do indicate denigration of dark-skinned people, come thousands of years later, under Hellenic, Roman and Christian periods. But I digress, Drake's tome, though published in the 1980s, does a much better job at describing 'race relations' in this age before race, avoiding the extreme Afrocentrism of other authors.

Alwa in Sudanic Context

Although we have long considered Alwa to be the more interesting of post-Meroe states in Nubia, the limited archaeological excavations and fewer references in the external Arabic primary sources makes it more of an elusive entity. Mohi el-Din Abdalla Zarroug attempts to redress this with an admittedly speculative but provocative analysis of the kingdom of Alwa. Based on the ethnographic present (after assuming probable cultural continuity in the Nubian heartland for the last several centuries), archaeological surveys, and textual sources from Antiquity, Islamic lands, and later reports or narratives, The Kingdom of Alwa proposes an interesting interpretation of Alwa as the more powerful, wealthiest state of medieval Nubia. Instead of being a peripheral Nubian state, or, as Adams wrongly assumed, a "primitive" state based on the slave trade, Alwa may have been a major state whose influence radiated far to the east and west, perhaps vying with Kanem over influence in Darfur and what later became Wadai. 

Contrary to assumptions or expectations of Makuria being the dominant Nubian kingdom, often based on the far more extensive archaeological research in northern Nubia, Alwa appears to have been able to support higher population densities while benefitting from surplus crops (through riverine and rain-based agriculture), gold exports, hides, and long-distance trade. The interdependency of the pastoralist and agriculturalist populations of Alwa became the basis for a regional economy and local exchange. Gold, iron, ivory, leather, and salt also contributed to this economy, which must have connected Alwa to the Mediterranean, Red Sea, Indian Ocean, Sudanic, and trans-Saharan trade routes. The extent to which Alwa inherited aspects of Meroitic economic or administrative structures is unknown, but Zarroug sees evidence of "Meroitized" Noba in the region during the Late Meroitic Period, according to burial types and the Axumite inscription of Ezana. Geographical factors likely favored continuity, too, suggesting Alwa succeeded Meroe as the center of Nubia. This is also the impression one gains from the external Arabic sources like al-Aswani. 

Zarroug speculates that Alwa relied more on east-west trade routes that linked the kingdom to trans-Saharan routes as well as to the Red Sea. Ruins of structures in Kordofan and Darfur suggest Alwa (and probably Makuria, too) had a presence in western Sudan, likely connecting it to trade routes that led to the Fezzan and North Africa. Although the evidence is still lacking or perhaps waiting on confirmation from finds in Kanem, Darfur, and Soba, Zarroug's theory is quite plausible. We have long wondered to what extent Kanem may have played an early essential role in trade and cultural contacts across the Sudanic belt of the African continent. Hints of it can be seen in the chronicles of Ahmad b. Furtu or al-Idrisi, Ibn Said and oral traditions of Darfur suggestive of Kanem's influence further east. Perhaps Kanem and Alwa (and likely Makuria) exerted influence over the Daju and what later became Wadai as peripheral territories. Over time, secure trade routes developed which could link Alwa to the Fezzan and possibly establish a firmer "Sudan Road." The presence of Muslim traders in Alwa and Makuria may have facilitated this process, so that Christian Nubia did not represent an impenetrable barrier for Muslims of the Central Sudan.