Prior to the Second World War, the French government had been highhanded in its administration of the Levantine Mandates and severe in the treatment of Levantine immigrants in its West African colonies. This imperious behaviour would change abruptly in 1944. As part of their effort to rebuild French power, General Charles de Gaulle and the Comité Français de la Liberation Nationak (CFLN) sought to maintain France's longstanding position of diplomatic and cultural influence in the Levant, even after promising Lebanese and Syrian independence. With this in mind, French authorities grew more sensitive to the immigrant connection between Damascus and Dakar. In particular, the CFLN began to understand that complaints by Levantine immigrants in Afrique Occidentale Française (AOF) regarding their treatment by colonial officials had immediate repercussions on the French ‘mission’ in Syria and Lebanon. As a result, in the last year of the war – and at the direct instigation of the CFLN's representative in the Levant – sweeping policy changes were instituted to mitigate the treatment of Levantine immigrants in West Africa in order to restore France's prestige and position in the Middle East.

In recent years two high quality overviews of the economic history of Indonesia in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries have been published that testify of the growing maturity of the field. The two books – The Indonesian Economy in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries: A History of Missed Opportunities by Anne Booth (1998), and The Emergence of a National Economy. An Economic History of Indonesia, 1800-2000 by a team of authors (Howard Dick, Vincent Houben, Thomas Lindblad and Thee Kian Wie) (2002) – are written by distinguished experts in the field. Both books also aim to be comprehensive, but interestingly, they do this in very different ways. But let me focus on the similarities first: apart from the obvious fact that they want to present an economic history of Indonesia over the past twohundred years, they also have in common that they stress the links between economic and political history. Both try ‘to bring the state back in’, by focussing on the process of state formation – in particular in the colonial period – and, even more importantly, by analysing the consequences of government policies for economic development. The leading theme of the The Emergence (TE), as formulated in the programmatic opening chapter by Howard Dick, are the links between state-formation, the nation state, and the national economy. Similarly, The Indonesian Economy (TIE) contains a detailed analysis of government policy, and in the final analysis of the ‘missed opportunities’ of Indonesia's past, the state plays a crucial role. This also brings me to the other obvious striking similarity: both books try to explain the failure of Indonesian economic development in this period (or at least until the second half of the 1960s), and discuss the reasons why economic development was relatively slow.

The common narrative of the Portuguese state in India from the sixteenth to the eighteenth century is, following contemporaries like Manuel Godinho, that of the four ages of man. The development of the Estado da Índia runs from its birth during the discoveries, via its youth, the ‘golden age’ (ranging from roughly 1500 to 1520) through its maturity or, to stick with the age metaphors, its ‘silver age’ from c. 1520 to 1570 to senility, or ‘age of decline’. The decline is a long one though: now generally considered to start in 1570 and covering the following two centuries. And one may well wonder whether ‘decadênria’ is truly the appropriate way to approach such a long period.

Just before midnight on 10 November 1975 Portugal's high commissioner in Angola, along with the last remnants of the Portuguese army in Africa, embarked for Lisbon. Earlier in the day he had formally transferred sovereignty not to a successor government but to ‘the Angolan people’, a formulation which permitted Portugal to ‘decolonise’ without taking sides in the civil war which was at that time reaching its climax in Angola. Immediately the perfunctory ceremony in Luanda ended, the Portuguese officials left at speed for the harbour and the relative safety of their ships which departed immediately. Thus ended Portugal's 500-year empire in Africa. It is tempting to see Portugal's indecorous withdrawal from Angola as an emblematic climax to an increasingly destructive relationship with the former jewel in its African crown. In this view, the chaotic circumstances of Angola's road to independence had brought Portugal's own fragile and unstable post-revolutionary state to the point of destruction. Yet a quite different view can be proposed. The political and diplomatic challenges thrown down by the Angolan crisis might be seen, on the contrary, to have had a ‘disciplining’ effect on a revolutionary process in Portugal which was threatening to spin out of control as a result of its own internal pressures. Arguably, rather than exacerbating these pressures, the demands of events in Angola had a unifying effect on an otherwise fragmenting state.

This article contains a sweeping summary of Indonesia's macro-economic growth and development experience since 1880, largely on the basis of quantitative data from published research. It sets the scene for some of the other papers in this special issue. The paper identifies phases of economic expansion and contraction and some of the broad factors relevant to understanding the phasing of the development process that spans 120 years. Despite the halting progress in the country's development experience, the article underlines the continuity of economic change in Indonesia, beyond the years that demarcate the end of the colonial era. It also addresses the fact that in comparative terms Indonesia's growth experience during the twentieth century was remarkably fast.

The spectre of a global crisis, predicted in 1997, but then failing to materialise outside (parts of) Asia, Russia, and Brazil, now looms again. Expectations of the arrival of a world-wide economic recession might constitute a conducive atmosphere for the study of economic crises and depressions in the past, in this case the Indonesian past. It is in fact somewhat amazing that, the study of the 1930s Depression apart, economic and social historians have not taken up this topic more eagerly during the last five years.

The old debate amongst historians as to whether the testimony of the sixteenth century really bears out Adam Smith's claim that the rounding of the Cape of Good Hope constitutes ‘one of the two and most important events in the recorded history of mankind’ was, it seems, put to sleep with Niels Steensgaard's thesis of 1973. Steensgaard argued that ‘a structural revolution’ and which truly sounded the death-knell of the old overland caravan trades competing with the sea borne routes, was not effected by the Portuguese from 1498 but awaited the Dutch. The debate, however, was couched very much on the theory of the operation run by the Portuguese, and which was typologised as reactionary in that it relied upon the threat of force rather than commercial competitivity. Whilst price movements between Portuguese and Red Sea pepper on the European market have been analysed by historians such as Herman Van Der Wee and Rene Gascon, nobody has really stopped to consider the complex of factors intervening on the demand side. Pepper, like ginger, was not a unitary good as misleadingly assumed by Douglas Irwin in his attempt to analyse the Anglo-Dutch rivalry for the East India trade with the Brander-Spence analysis of duopolistic export competition. Price lists suggest that pepper came in manifold shapes, sizes and qualities, let alone competing species, all of which rendered the market remarkably heterogeneous with up to seven-fold price divergences between, for example, the different products that would pass as ‘pepper’. This article discusses some of the factors that made for market variegation, and focuses on the market consequences of a Portuguese policy of transportation in the open ship's hold. It suggests that quality was one of the demand factors that shaped the competition between the Adantic and Mediterranean spice trade.

The island of Bombay is the ancient property of the English East India Company; it hath hitherto been, of all her settlements, the most conducive to the greatness of the nation in Asia; yet, through the splendour of achievement, great acquisition of the territory, and immense harvests of wealth in Bengal and the Coast of Coromandel, it hath been in some measure overlooked, and, as if in a corner of the world, unnoticed.

[T] he Paravas [are] a maritime people, seated on this Pearle Coast, whose greatest livelihood is Natures bounty, which she in that kind annually bestowes and which art qualifies them in like manner to receive… This nation about one hundred and thirty yeares agoe was a limb of heathenisme, out of which roughquarry it was hewen by papall industry and so became a Jewell of the Triple Crown. The Jesuites, who at first converted them, for a long time after govern'd them in a way both ecclestiasticall andcivill. This latter yoake weares of and delivers up civill concernments into the hands of the civill power, the corruption of one kindof government being the generation of the other. In this state matters rested when, about five yeares agoe (the Portugall greatnesse being then far declin'd from its zenith) the Dutch possesse[d] themselves of this coast, which ever since, they have govern'd by way of judicature and awed by their power. This gave occasion for the persons above mentioned [certaine persons of quality, natives of Tutticorrim and heads of their nation] to recede [into the interior]… This [loss of Cochin in early 1663] involves them in fresh cares, and those send them in great quest of other props to stay themselves upon… Their desires therefore are that themselves, together with their adherents, may be taken into the protection of the English; that they with their padre (who is the hinge whereon they turne) may have their dwellings at Cale Velha [Palaiyakkayal], the seate of our factorie, free from violence; and their boates, by virtue of our passeports, to navigate the seas void of all disturbances.

Historians have approached the Indian Ocean from a variety of vantages in their attempts to explain the modern history of this huge maritime arena. Some scholars have concentrated on predation as a linking theme, charting how piracy connected a broad range of actors for centuries in these dangerous waters. Others have focused on environmental issues, asking how patterns of winds, currents, and weather allowed trade to flourish on such a vast, oceanic scale. These latter historians have appropriated a page out of Braudel, and have grafted his approaches to the Mediterranean to fit local, Indian Ocean realities, such as the role of cyclones and mangrove swamps in both helping and hindering long-distance commerce. Still other scholars have used different tacks, following trails of commodities such as spices or precious metals, or even focusing on far-flung archaeological remains, in an attempt to piece together trans-regional histories from the detritus civilisations left behind. All of these epistemological vectors have shed light on the region as a whole, though through different tools and lenses, and via a variety of techniques of inquiry.

The term indonesianisasi stands for the removal of Dutch tutelage and a subsequent fundamental reorientation of the economy of Indonesia at the time of decolonisation and during the years immediately after Dutch acknowledgement of Indonesian independence in December 1949. The term was initially used in a narrow sense designating the replacement of Dutch officials and managers by Indonesian nationals in the government bureaucracy and private firms in Indonesia during the years leading up to the nationalisation of remaining Dutch business assets in Indonesia in December 1957. There is a growing appreciation that the term needs to be applied i n a broader sense as the transfer of economic leadership in newly independent Indonesia with profound consequences for future economic development. This article forms a first exploration of the application of the term indonesianisasi in such a broad sense. It should be emphasised, therefore, that this is a starting-point of new research rather than the outcome of a completed undertaking.

Historians have made in depth studies on the consequences of the Dutch incursions and invasion into the north and northwest of Brazil, for both the Spanish Empire and the United Provinces of the Dutch Republic. The purpose of this paper is to show that the war between Spain and the Dutch Republic also affected the south of Brazil and that it forced Spain to adopt measures that altered the policy of the Spanish Crown regarding Sao Paulo.

Thanks largely to the work of Pierre van der Eng we now have quite a good picture of trends in growth of Indonesia's real Gross Domestic Product (GDP) over the twentieth century. There were two periods, each of around three decades when growth was positive in per capita terms. From 1900 to 1930, real GDP grew at 2.7 per cent per annum; if we assume that population grew over this period at around 1.2 per cent per annum, then annual growth in real per capita terms was 1.5 per cent per annum. This implies an increase over a thirty-year period in per capita GDP of around fifty-six per cent. Beginning in 1929, there was a sustained growth collapse which continued through the early 1930s; real per capita GDP in 1934 was only eighty-three per cent of the 1928 level in 1934 (Table 1). Some recovery occurred in the latter part of the 1930s, and by 1941 per capita GDP had returned to roughly the 1928 level. But the twenty-five years from 1941 to 1966 were characterised by foreign occupation, revolutionary struggle, and, after 1949, considerable macroeconomic instability culminating in hyper-inflation in the early and mid-1960s. In 1967, per capita GDP was estimated by Van der Eng to be only about seventy-five per cent of the 1928 figure.

Throughout the last decade a number of rather detailed studies on eighteenth-century Atlantic merchants and merchant colonies in Atlantic port cities has been published. The works ofJacob Price, David Hancock, Jonathan Israel, Olivier Pétré-Grenouilleau, and Manuel Bustos Rodríguez demonstrate the growing historical interest in maritime trade and Atlantic studies. All of these works carry on the investigative traditions of the authors respective countries, represented, for example, by Bernard Bailyn's works on the New England merchants, Pierre and Huguette Chaunu's and Paul Butel's studies on the economies of the Spanish and French Atlantic, and the investigations of Antonio García-Baquero González on the topic of Spanish Atlantic trade. As a pervasive pattern within this field of research it can be observed that, since the foundations had been laid with these classical studies, the focus of historical inquiry has shifted from quantitative investigations (that is, those on the currents of ships, goods, and precious metals) and from studies on the legal frameworks regulating the Atlantic trades to detailed studies of the individuals responsible for this trade. Arising from their countries colonial pasts, it is not surprising that most of these author's works concentrate on the colonial trade of the Western European sea powers, thus neglecting the central and eastern interiors of the continent. In the 1960s and 70s, some German historians, notably Hermann Kellenbenz and Hans Pohl, published studies in this area, but it has lain fallow ever since. The aim of this article is to shed some light on the perspectives that might open up by reconsidering the influence of Atlantic trade on Central Europe in the Early Modern period.

French Colonial Minister Paul Coste-Floret presided over the interment of the remains of Adolphe-Sylvestre-Félix Eboué in the Pantheon of the Republic on 20 May 1949. This singular honour accorded only sixty others in the two centuries since the Great Revolution of 1789 placed Eboué among the greatest heroes and cultural luminaries of modern France. He now rests with Rousseau and Voltaire, the great men of letters Victor Hugo and Emile Zola and the political heroes of Republican France Jean Jaurès and Jean Moulin. Félix Eboué, however, is the only black Frenchman among these great thinkers, writers and leaders of the Republic. His inclusion among the heroes of France in 1949 was indeed in recognition of acts of great personal courage. It was also an expression of French hopes and fears for the future at a time when vast populations of colour under French rule in Africa, in Asia and in the Americas were asserting themselves politically and culturally on an unprecedented scale. In death, Eboué became the symbol of those in France who were most determined to preserve French hegemony over the seventy million souls spread over the globe who formed the French Empire. His life as a French national, a man of African ancestry and as the man whose actions in 1940 helped transform Charles de Gaulle from an obscure Brigadier General into one of the most important leaders of the Second World War made Eboué this symbol.