A "trade token", used on
a British ship to vouch for the "integrity" of the slave trader (1788)
Hot on the heels of the last slavery exhibition at the
Fitzwilliam Museum, here is another show on a similar theme (Rise Up:
Resistance Revolution Abolition), co-curated by Victoria Avery, who was
also responsible for the Black Atlantic exhibition at the Fitzwilliam in
2023. This exhibition is the result of a study commissioned by the University to
identify its links with Atlantic slavery “and other forms of forced labour”. This
explains why there are so many references to Cambridge alumni in the exhibits
and catalogue.
The themes of the exhibition appear to be:
- Anti-slavery campaigners with links in and around Cambridge, notably Olaudah Equiano.
- The anti-slavery campaigning movement in Britain.
- Resistance and rebellion in early Black states, primarily, Haiti. The curators state the exhibition focuses on “acts of resistance” rather than “narratives of white abolitionism”.
- Resettlement, comprising a fascinating section about the 3,000 British Black loyalists who fought in the American War of Independence and were offered resettlement in Nova Scotia, and some coverage of an attempt to “repatriate” African slaves in Sierra Leone.
- Some early Black students at the University of Cambridge, specifically, a composer and an actor.
This is a lot for one exhibition. Is it an art exhibition, a
history presentation, or an act of expiation by the University? It sits uneasily
somewhere between all three, with some muddled messages as you proceed around
the exhibition.
What unites the exhibition, if anything, is a strident tone
of injustice, with many heavily pedagogical captions. You will be told the
correct interpretation of these exhibits, just in case you missed it; for
example, a medal celebrating William Wilberforce is sternly labelled:
Medals like this one
- adopting the individualist conventions of the medium – ensured that
abolitionist success was associated for decades to follow with a single white
man. This has contributed to the neglect of countless other stories of resistance.
This hectoring style of captioning reminds me of recent exhibitions
at the Tate Modern.
Undoubtedly there are some fine exhibits, but overall the
effect is weakened because of the very disparate themes and their wildly differing
importance. To remember the first Black actor to play Othello is undoubtedly
worth celebrating, as is one of the earliest Black composers as a student at a
Cambridge college, but where does that fit in this exhibition of resistance and
revolution?
Haiti
Haiti is justified for inclusion as the first successful
rebellion by a slave population. Yet the focus here is rather strange. While the
story of Toussaint L’Ouverture and the initial rebellion is well known, Haiti
after the revolt is not a very edifying tale – as is shown by images in this
exhibition. It looked to me there were more objects in the exhibition relating
to reaction in Haiti than to revolution.
Dessalines, leader from 1804, introduced “serfdom” (as
opposed to slavery, now banned), with all labourers bound to a plantation. The
use of a whip was now forbidden, so estate owners used thick vines instead. Before
this exhibition, I had no idea that Haiti had ever had a king. Now I know that Henri
Christophe, one of the leaders of the rebellion, created a kingdom for himself,
with a vast palace, using forced (not slave) labour, “using the corvée
system, where people worked without pay instead of paying taxes”. Is this the
rebellion we want to celebrate? Do we want to see details of the heraldic arms of
the newly created (and short-lived) Haitian nobility?
Links to Cambridge
This is a mixture of significant and trivial. Certainly it
is interesting that “the contradictory intertwinement of abolitionism and
slavery existed at multiple levels from individuals to institutions to the
country at large” [p134]. But does that justify mentioning all possible
references to Cambridge alumni, for example that “Cambridge University educated
… the heirs of British planters from Barbados, Jamaica and other British
colonies long after slavery had ended”? Several references have an unintended
effect: “Around 13,000 enslaved people rose up on sixty plantations, including
some with connections to the University of Cambridge.” [catalogue, p144]
Contemporary art
One of the common practices with recent exhibitions that
take place in an art gallery, but on a historical theme, is to invite contemporary
artists to present their interpretation. This is the principle behind, for
example, the recent Hew Locke show at the British Museum. However, some of the
art seems to be chosen for its compliance with the exhibition theme, but to be in
harmony with the message does not always produce an effective piece of propaganda
– or art. A collection of hessian sacks by Karen McLean, for example, depicts enslaved
women “via their reproductive organs rather than their faces to highlight
enslaved women’s resistance and defiance through the control they took over
their wombs.” Sadly, I think that’s just
how the slave owners saw the women: as reproductive agents to create more
slaves. It doesn’t appear very defiant to me.
Some of the most effective recent art in the exhibition appears
to have little connection with the
themes. There is a great picture by Rosmarie Marke (Which One, No Choice – Fleeing)
of the Sierra Leone Civil War of 1997, but what is its connection with the rest
of the exhibition?
Conclusion
It seems clear that the British Act of 1807 did not end the
UK’s involvement with slavery, and I would have welcomed a more nuanced
approach. Instead, there is a mixture of central and peripheral topics. The Atlantic
slave trade is a fundamental and justified theme; it’s just a shame this
Fitzwilliam show dilutes the message.
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