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Contents
Preface xvi
INTRODUCTION The Global Century 1

The Call of the World 2
Making a World System 5
Empires in Collision 7
Toward a Global Century 9
Plan of the Book 11
PART ONE
Seeking an Equitable World: Issues of Inequality 13
CHAPTER 1 Class: A World of Rich and Poor 15

GLOBAL ENCOUNTERS: Bahamas 15
The Global Divide 17
Inequalities between and among Nations 17
Realities of Global Poverty 20
Theories of Class and Economy 22
The Wealth of Nations: Adam Smith 22
The Misery of Nations: Karl Marx 23
Assessing the Views 25
Economic Development: Modernization and
Dependency Theories 30
Modernization Theory: Time to Clean House 30
Dependency Theory: Get Out of My House 31
When Prehistory Repeats Itself 34
Ending Extreme Poverty: Markets and Beyond 36
KEY IDEAS 39
FOR REVIEW AND DISCUSSION 40
MAKING CONNECTIONS 40
MAKING A DIFFERENCE 41
vii
viii Contents
CHAPTER 2 Work and Trade: The Global Assembly Line 42

GLOBAL ENCOUNTERS: Mauritius (Isle Maurice),
Indian Ocean 42
The Division of Labor 43
Adam Smith: Efficiency 44
Émile Durkheim: Solidarity 44
Max Weber: Work Ethic 45
Karl Marx: Alienation 46
The New International Division of Labor 46
The New Frontier: From Hudson’s Bay to

Land’s End 49
Occasional Help Wanted: From Bracero to NAFTA 49
Working the Line: Life on La Frontera 50
Pushed to the Wall: Wal-Mart and the
“Big Boxes” 51
Made by Small Hands 54

Mills and Mines 55
Hooked by the World Economy 57
A Trade Free-for-All 58
David Ricardo: Comparative Advantage 58
Chain of Production around the World 59
Ordering the World Market 61

The International Monetary Fund 61
The World Bank 62
From GATT to the WTO 63
Trade That is Fair for All 65

KEY IDEAS 66
CHAPTER 3 Gender and Family: Overburdened Women

and Displaced Men 69
GLOBAL ENCOUNTERS: India 69
Nietzsche Undone: From Superman to Supermom 72

Masculinity as Vulnerability: The Harder They Fall 75
Tired, Stressed Women and Angry, Alienated Men 76
Contents ix
Locked In and Shut Out 80

The Feminization of Migration 81
Global Family Changes 83

Marriage and Divorce 83
Parenting 86
Half the Sky 89

The Continued Perils of Being Female 89
Feminist Theory and World Feminist
Movements 90
KEY IDEAS 92
CHAPTER 4 Education: Access and Success 94

Brazil 95
The Foundations of Education 96
And Who Will Care for the Children? 99
Education around the World 103
Great Britain 103
Japan 105
Russia 107
Mexico 108
India 109
Germany and Northern Europe 109
China 110
Opening Doors, Opening Minds 110

Human Capital Theory 110
The School-to-Work Transition 111
Elite and Popular Education 113
Savage Inequalities at Home and Abroad 114
Pedagogy of the Oppressed 116
KEY IDEAS 118

x Contents
PART TWO
Seeking a Peaceful World: Issues of Conflict 121
CHAPTER 5 Crime: Fear in the Streets 123

GLOBAL ENCOUNTERS: Brazil 123
Seeking Security 125
Street Crime and Youth Violence 128
International Drug Trade 130
Opium 130
Cocaine 132
Cannabis 134
Alcoholism 136
New Recipes: Chemical Agents 137
Incarceration around the World 138

International Crime Cartels 141
Trading in Guns, Drugs, and People 141
Mexico’s Drug Wars 142
In Search of Opportunity and Order 143

KEY IDEAS 144
CHAPTER 6 War: States of Terror 146

GLOBAL ENCOUNTERS: Vietnam 146
How States Made War and War Made States 148

From Limited War to Total War to Cold War 151
Total War 152
Cold War 153
From World War to Regional Conflict 158

The Global Arms Trade 161
Weapons of Mass Destruction 164
Chemical Weapons 164
Biological Weapons 165
Nuclear Weapons 167
Contents xi
Military Expenditures 168

The Last Great War? 169
KEY IDEAS 171
CHAPTER 7 Democracy and Human Rights: Having

Our Say 173
GLOBAL ENCOUNTERS: Myanmar
(Burma) 173
Nationalism and the Nation–State 176
From Bands to States 177
Nationalism and Independence 181
Democracy and Its Alternatives 183
The Age of Democracy 183
Authoritarianism versus Democracy 187
“Dirty Wars”: When Democracy Degenerates 190

The Price of Democracy 192
After the Repression 192
The Right to Be Fully Human 193

KEY IDEAS 196
CHAPTER 8 Ethnicity and Religion: Deep Roots

and Unholy Hate 198
GLOBAL ENCOUNTERS: Brazil 198
South Africa 200
Ethnicity: Ties That Bind and Divide 200
Faith and Fervor: Religious Diversity 203
Tribal Religions 203
Christianity 206
xii Contents
Islam 207
Asian Religions 208
Ethnicity, Religion, and Power 209

Resurgent Fundamentalism 211
The God of the Poor: Liberation Theology 214
Identity and International Terrorism 214

Revolutionary and State Terror 214
The Power and Weakness of Terror 216
Alternatives to Terror 217

Religion as Resilience 217
Ethnicity as Resilience 218
Moral Leadership as Resilience 219
KEY IDEAS 220
PART THREE
Seeking a Sustainable World: Environmental Issues 223
CHAPTER 9 Urbanization: Cities without Limits 226

GLOBAL ENCOUNTERS: China 226
India 228
The Urban Millennium: Worldwide Urbanization 230
Dawn of the City 230
Triumph of the City 231
World Cities 233

Megacities 235
Sprawling and Brawling Contenders 239
Cities as Dynamos: Central Places and Hyperurbanization 241

The Shape of Urban Life 242
Theories of Urban Culture 242
Theories of Urban Structure 243
Fantasy City: Postmodern Theory 244
The Shape of the City 245

Global Ghettos: The Spread of Shantytowns 246
A Slum with a View 248
Contents xiii
Autosprawl 250
Seeking Livable Cities 252

Cities That Work 252
New Urbanism 252
Sustainable Cities 253
KEY IDEAS 254
CHAPTER 10 Population and Health: Only the Poor

Die Young 256
GLOBAL ENCOUNTERS: South Africa 256
China 259
Counting Heads: World Population Estimates 259
Marx and Malthus: The Population Bomb Debate 260
Demographic Transition Theory 262
Death Rate and Birthrate 263
Life Expectancy 263
Fertility Rate 266
Changing Demographics 267
Population Control 270

Migration 272
Disease 274
Infectious Disease: The Kiss of Death 274
New Threats: HIV/AIDS and Other Diseases 277
Chronic Disease: Dying by Degrees 280
Health Care Reform 283

United States 283
Canada 284
Sweden 284
Great Britain 285
Japan 285
Russia 285
China 286
Other Asian Countries 287
Living Well, Staying Well 287

xiv Contents
KEY IDEAS 288
CHAPTER 11 Technology and Energy: Prometheus’s Fire or

Pandora’s Box? 290
GLOBAL ENCOUNTERS: Japan 290
Power Surge: The Advance of Technology 292

The Fires of Industry 293
Booting Up the Electronic Age 293
Global Cyber-café: The Social Network 297
Planet Hollywood: When Reality is Virtual and Virtual is Reality 298
The Information (and Misinformation) Age 300
Energy: Fire from Above and Below 301

Wood 302
Coal 304
Oil 305
Natural Gas 308
Nuclear Fission: The Power of Ancient Suns 309
Nuclear Fusion: The Fire of the Cosmos 311
Alternative Energy: Sun, Wind, Earth, and Water 312
Chariots of Fire: Automobiles and Transport 314

Turning Down the Heat: Global Warming and Appropriate
Technology 318
KEY IDEAS 320
CHAPTER 12 Ecology: How Much Can One Planet Take? 323

South Africa 325
Food: We Are What We Eat 325
Sowing the Seeds of Civilization 328
Growing Business: Industrial Agriculture 329
Contents xv
Pollution 334
Water: From Open Sewers to Toxic Canals 334
Solid Waste: A Planet in Plastic Wrap 336
Deforestation and Desertification 341

Who Invited You? Invasive Species 346
Ecology and Economy: The Search for Sustainable Futures 348
KEY IDEAS 349
CONCLUSION Making a World of Difference 352

GLOBAL ENCOUNTERS: Coming Home: Honolulu 352
References 357
Index 366
Preface
T his is an exciting time to be teaching about global issues and social problems. It can also
be a daunting task. There is far more material than can ever be covered in a semester, and
the issues of our time change with each day’s headlines. I hope this book, Global Problems:
The Search for Equity, Peace, and Sustainability, will make the task of engaging global
problems a more manageable one.
We must go beyond the “toe in the water” syndrome. This is seen when a student of a
foreign language learns just enough to say, “No, I don’t speak . . .” in the target language,
never learning enough to use the language and so forgetting it. A similar process can happen
when we learn just enough to feel overwhelmed but never expand our skills and awareness
enough to feel conversant in the ways of the world and at home anywhere on the planet.
We must also get beyond the “blue box” syndrome. This is seen in textbooks, where
a newly realized issue or group is confined to discussion in boxes (often pale blue, but
this depends on the taste of the publisher). For example, the history of the nation is told
largely from the perspective of white men (often politicians and generals), but then there
is a box for “Women in History” or “Great African Americans in History,” as though
this perspective was an afterthought rather than a central part of the story. Global issues
are still often confined to the blue boxes of many texts. The story told is of events and
issues within a single country, and an occasional box is included with information on
“Marriage in India” or “Education in Japan.” One gets the impression that these boxes
provide interesting sidelines and tangents but something apart from the real story. Given
its size and current world dominance, no place has been a greater offender in this area than
the United States. But this denies the reality of our interconnected, interwoven world. A
terrorist cell in Frankfurt today is in Boston tomorrow; a virus in Hong Kong yesterday
is in Toronto today.
The book is divided into three parts, representing what I see as three key dimensions
to the current global situation. The first part begins with the challenges of global inequali-
ties: in life chances, wages and work, and gender and education. The choice to begin with
inequality is not accidental but rather reflects my conviction that inequality lies at the heart
of many global problems. The second section focuses on conflict and violence at all levels:
from crime to politics, terrorism to war. Violence is closely linked to issues of social justice
and human rights, and this connection is made throughout. The final section looks at the
issue of sustainability and the problems of urbanization, crowding, and environmental de-
struction. These problems are immediate but also call on us to look ahead toward the kind
of world that we are building.
Each chapter of Global Problems begins with a “Global Encounters” vignette. I have
worked for years with overseas study and international education programs and have taught
on Semester at Sea voyages. The opening vignette gives an example of college students
xvi
Preface xvii
encountering a striking situation and being asked to think about the broader implications of
what they are seeing. The questions raised are central to the topic of that chapter.
I want students to be able to see the interconnectedness of our world and of people
leading seemingly very different lives. Each chapter strengthens this local–global con-
nection. The chapters explore social problems by focusing on key theories and providing
enough history to understand the background of contemporary issues. The approach is both
multinational and multidisciplinary. Often, I identify both the nationality and the discipline
or background of the person cited, so students can get a better sense of the many areas
of study that contribute to the whole. I have avoided burdening the text with a bewilder-
ing array of citations and have instead focused on the key insights and studies that most
clearly inform the topic across disciplines. Both classical and contemporary theorists and
writers are noted.
I hope that students will think deeply and care deeply about global problems. At the
same time, I do not want to indulge in gloom and doom to the point that the situation seems
hopeless, for that can breed apathy and inaction. Each chapter includes and concludes with
positive possibilities for global change. The “Making Connections” section at the end of
each chapter offers reliable Web sites for more information. “Making a Difference” sections
offer options for broader and often local involvement. They are also reminders that while
the problems are substantial, there are many people, including students, who are committed
to making a difference. These sections can form the basis for assignments, for further study,
or for a class or group project.
This combination of elements allows Global Problems to serve social problems courses
that seek a truly global perspective and context for analysis as well as courses in global
issues, global studies, Third World studies, and international development.
Supplements for the Instructor

The following supplements are available to qualified instructors who have adopted this
textbook.
Instructor’s Manual and Test Bank (ISBN 0205841864): The Instructor’s Manual and
Test Bank has been prepared to assist teachers in their efforts to prepare lectures and evalu-
ate student learning. For each chapter of the text, the Instructor’s Manual offers different
types of resources, including detailed chapter summaries and outlines, learning objectives,
discussion questions, classroom activities and much more.
Also included in this manual is a test bank offering multiple-choice, true/false, fill-in-the-
blank, and/or essay questions for each chapter. The Instructor’s Manual and Test Bank is
available to adopters at www.pearsonhighered.com.
MyTest (ISBN 0205860885): The Test Bank is also available online through Pearson’s
computerized testing system, MyTest. MyTest allows instructors to create their own per-
sonalized exams, to edit any of the existing test questions, and to add new questions. Other
special features of this program include random generation of test questions, creation of
alternative versions of the same test, scrambling question sequence, and test preview before
printing. Search and sort features allow you to locate questions quickly and to arrange
xviii Preface
them in whatever order you prefer. The test bank can be accessed from anywhere with a
free MyTest user account. There is no need to download a program or file to your computer.
PowerPoint Presentations (ISBN 0205860877): Lecture PowerPoints are available for this
text. The Lecture PowerPoint slides outline each chapter to help you convey sociological
principles in a visual and exciting way. They are available to adopters at www.pearson-
highered.com.
MySearchLab: MySearchLab is a dynamic website that delivers proven results in helping
individual students succeed. Its wealth of resources provides engaging experiences that
personalize, stimulate, and measure learning for each student. Many accessible tools will
encourage students to read their text, improve writing skills, and help them improve their
grade in their course.
Features of MySearchLab:
Writing
• Step by step tutorials present complete overviews of the research and writing process.
Research and citing sources
• Instructors and students receive access to the EBSCO ContentSelect database, census
data from Social Explorer, Associated Press news feeds, and the Pearson bookshelf.
Pearson SourceCheck helps students and instructors monitor originality and avoid
plagiarism.
Etext and more
• Pearson e Text—An e-book version of Global Problems is included in MySearchLab.
Just like the printed text, students can highlight and add their own notes as they read
their interactive text online.
• Chapter quizzes and flashcards—Chapter and key term reviews are available for each
chapter online and offer immediate feedback.
• Primary Source Documents—A collection of documents, organized by chapter, are
available on MySearchLab. The documents include head notes and critical thinking
questions.
• Gradebook—Automated grading of quizzes helps both instructors and students monitor
their results throughout the course.
Acknowledgments
Pearson has a superb team of professionals who have made my life as an author much
easier. Thanks especially go to Karen Hanson, Publisher for Sociology, for her guidance
and gentle encouragement.
I am also grateful to Pei Chun Lee for research assistance in working through, quite
literally, a world of data. I would also like to thank Mohinder Singh at Aptara®, Inc. for
all the good work that went into preparing the final copy for this edition. Finally, special
thanks go to the reviewers, who were generous with their praise of the overall project as well
as generous with their time in doing a careful reading and suggesting important improve-
ments: Christopher Whitsel, North Dakota State University; Stephen Sills, University of
North Carolina, Greensboro; and Gerald Titchener, Des Moines Area Community College.
I N T R O D U C T I O N
The Global Century
W hen Bob Dylan sang in the 1960s that the times were “a-changin’,” he was quite
right. The times are still changing; only now, they seem to change every year or every few
months. The term globalization was only popularized in the mid-1990s, but it soon became
the favorite label for our age. Our world has been coming together in dramatic new ways.
Globalization is sometimes used to describe only the increasing economic linkages
between countries. Yet it is more than that. Economic globalization is reshaping our world
marketplace. At the same time, political globalization is binding the world together in new
forms of power and authority relations. Cultural globalization means that music, fashion,
media, and lifestyles are transported around the world, reshaping how people live and even
how they think. Economic, political, and cultural globalization are clearly intertwined, but
they are also as distinct as their respective U.S. centers: New York, (economic), Washing-
ton, D.C. (political), and Los Angeles (cultural). By the end of the twentieth century few
doubted that globalization, in some form, was here to stay.
Then came September 11, 2001. The world’s most devastating terrorist attack, directed
against seats of global economic power (the World Trade Center) and political power (the
Pentagon), raised new questions. What would the impact of global terrorism be on our
shrinking world? Would fear of terrorism restrict the movement of people and products?
Even that classic symbol of the shrinking world, the jet airliner, seemed somehow menacing.
The 9/11 terrorist attacks were followed in short order by two wars, toppling the govern-
ments of Afghanistan and Iraq, launched by U.S. government that seemed increasingly eager
to use unilateral power and to avoid international agreements and power sharing.
Some have argued that the first great move toward globalization that began the twen-
tieth century was stopped, even reversed, by the cataclysm of World War I. The great
symbol of globalization of that era, ocean liners such as the Titanic and the Lusitania,
became objects of suspicion, vulnerable to both natural disaster (icebergs) and terror (unan-
nounced torpedo attacks). Is the world of the twenty-first century still coming together, or
is it coming apart amid the flames of nationalism, terrorism, and war?
I firmly believe that globalization will not be reversed in the long term. New concerns
about conflict and terror may even provide a great impetus for global agreements and
actions, just as the short-term interruption of World War I soon forced new international
agreements, such as the League of Nations and the Geneva Conventions. Economic global-
ization is not easily reversed. Even as U.S. and British tanks were still rolling across the
Iraqi desert, U.S. companies were vying to secure contracts to rebuild the country and
European companies were complaining about being left out. The logic of global capitalism
continues to seek new markets and new opportunities.
1
2 Introduction The Global Century
Similarly, while the Bush administration seemed to prefer a unilateral solution to the
Iraq problem, it nonetheless found itself seeking approval of the U.N. Security Council and
wooing many small nations. The support of these countries didn’t matter much for the
military situation, but it greatly added a sense of legitimacy to the operation. Similarly, some
countries that many people in the United States would find difficult to locate on the map,
such as Djibouti (look north of Ethiopia, next to Somalia), became extremely strategic as
staging grounds for special forces and other military action. Cultural globalization is also
not easily avoided. Many around the world who opposed U.S. action in Iraq were quick to
note that they did not hate Americans or American culture. As one young protestor in
Madrid noted in succinct English, “Bush sucks; Santana rocks!” And as this example
reminds us, even U.S. cultural influence is increasingly multicultural, a commercial re-
exportation of ideas and art forms from around the world.
The Call of the World

One reason that globalization will not be reversed is that it is ancient. Globalization began
with the first humans to stride out of Africa. The world was first conquered by canoe and
moccasin. Human hunter–gatherers placed strains on their local environments and moved
on in search of new unexploited land. And humans were endlessly adaptable: Furs and fire
could help conquer the cold, new materials could be employed for shelter, and simple ves-
sels could follow coastlines and cross narrow straits. The first human explorers may have
reached Australia, across a strait of open water, by 40,000 years ago. They were in Japan,
the Philippines and the many islands near the Asian coast by 30,000 years ago. People were
in the Americas by 12,000 years ago; by some accounts, as much as 20,000 years ago. Those
who came 12,000 years ago could have walked across what is now the Bering Strait that
divides Alaska from Siberia, following routes opened by the low ocean levels of the last ice
age and corridors between great walls of ice. If people came earlier, they must have worked
simple but effective boats, perhaps a covered canoe or kayak of some sort, along the edges
of the ice through frigid waters. In time, so-called prehistoric and uncivilized humans—that
is, people who lived before the advent of writing and urban life—extended their reach to
almost every point on the globe that wasn’t buried under a mile of ice.
As the climate changed and populations grew, people began to settle in small farming
villages. Some of these places occupied key trade routes and grew into substantial com-
munities. By 10,000 years ago, the great trade centers of the Middle East were growing into
major population centers. As farmers intensified their production, the first real cities arose
around 5,000 years ago. For better or worse, globalization had begun as cities linked to one
another first through trade routes, and soon through conquest as the ambitious and the bra-
zen seized the first empires.
People set out in search of something beyond the horizon, driven by the desire for
commerce (economic globalization), control (political globalization), and sheer curiosity
(cultural globalization). Early civilizations were far more interconnected than we first sup-
posed. We have learned to think in terms of Western civilization (Europe) and Eastern
civilization (China). In fact, the ancient world had multiple interconnected and overlapping
centers of civilization.
Introduction The Global Century 3
Mediterranean society included both the northern (European) shore and the southern
(African) shore of the Great Sea. The idea that Europe and Africa were different continents
would have seemed strange to ancient inhabitants of the Mediterranean region. Rather, they
struggled for control, sought commerce, and explored out of curiosity from a circle of compet-
ing and cooperating power centers: Athens, Tyre, Alexandria, Cairo, Carthage, Rome, Venice,
and many others at various times. Because later Europeans would become enamored of them
as cradles of “classical civilization,” Athens and Rome have occupied center stage in our
understanding of the region. But the city on the Bosporus, straddling what we now consider
to be Europe and Asia and variously known as Byzantium, Constantinople, and Istanbul, stood
at the center of Eurasian commerce for a thousand years after the city of Rome fell into decline.
Another cultural hub centered on what Europeans later called the Middle East—the
area bounded by the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, the Persian Gulf, and the Iranian plateau.
This area included some of the earliest kingdoms on earth: Sumer, Babylonia, and Assyria.
Later empires wedded this land more firmly with Mediterranean: The great Persian Empire
encompassed Egypt and threatened Greece; Alexander’s short-lived realm spanned from
Greece to India; and the Parthian Empire rivaled Rome. Starting in the 700s, this land
became the center of Arab realms, based first in Mecca and then Damascus and Baghdad
that stretched across North Africa to include all of Spain and traded with ports on both the
Mediterranean Sea and the Indian Ocean. Parts of this area were later subsumed by several
Turkish Empires that turned back the Crusades in the 1200s, conquered Constantinople in
1453, reached all the way to Vienna by the 1600s, and struggled on until World War I.
The northern rim of Africa from Morocco to Egypt has long been bound up with the
Mediterranean and Middle Eastern civilizations with which it shared sea-lanes and caravan
routes. As the great Sahara Desert grew over several thousand years due to climate change
and human impact, ties to the rest of Africa became more difficult. Lakes dried up, and the
great granaries that fed much of the Roman Empire were buried under sand dunes. Travel-
ers with those most durable of beasts of burden, camels, continued to make long and danger-
ous treks south, trading in places that became symbols of the remote and exotic to the
outside world, such as Timbuktu. But Sub-Saharan African civilization continued to expand
as well. Around the end of the first millennium of our age, West African farmers and trad-
ers, workers of iron who spoke a common family of languages known as Bantu, began one
of the world’s great expansions. In the succeeding centuries, they moved across Central
Africa well into the eastern and southern parts of the continent. They often displaced other
ancient African groups to remote deserts or rain forests as Bantu farming and trading com-
munities filled much of the continent. But Africa, with its difficult soil and tropical diseases
that plague both people and livestock, is not an easy place to farm. The Bantu farmers
adapted to life in the tropics with dispersed interconnected communities, a vast network
that later European explorers would fail to comprehend, just as they failed to understand
the complexity of the dispersed village-based networks of North America.
In India, civilization began early along the Indus River. About the same as ancient
Egypt, more than 4,000 years ago, Harappa civilization built great planned cities with streets
laid out in grids and the world’s first sanitary system for water and sewage. Subsequent
power changes, often at the hands of a series of invaders from the north, first brought Hin-
duism and later mixed it with Buddhism, Islam, and several other faiths but always retained
a particularly Indian flavor.
Finally, for much of the ancient and medieval period, the greatest center of power and
culture was China. Originally, this region comprised two centers: one in the north along the
Hwang Ho or Yellow River and one in the south along the Yangtze River. In time, these
centers merged and drew many of their neighbors into their sphere. Some remained politi-
cally and culturally distinct—Japan, Vietnam, Mongolia, Tibet—while exchanging ideas
and influence with the Chinese. Traders came to China on great caravan routes across cen-
tral Asia and by the sea-lane around Southeast Asia. Sometimes, the Chinese welcomed the
trade; at other times they built great walls, literal and figurative, to protect their empire from
outsiders. In time, the core of East Asia, once no doubt as diverse in language and ethnicity
as India, Africa, or Indonesia, became melded into a vast land with a common sense of
ethnicity, Han Chinese, and eventually a single dominant language, Mandarin.
Each of these centers of power and culture, at one time or another, saw itself as the
center of the world, an oasis of culture surrounded by barbarians, infidels and heathens, and
hostile hordes. Yet while the centers maintained their own cultural identities, they were
always interacting with one another: trading, fighting, and exchanging ideas and innovations,
merchants and spies. The boundaries of cultures, like those of empires, were fluid and often
overlapping. The Great Silk Road connected the Roman Empire and the Han Chinese Empire,
a trade route that, in one form or another, persisted for centuries. Sometimes, they carried on
a vigorous traffic in products and ideas with the very nomads beyond their borders that they
most despised (Weatherford 1994). Once they became seafaring, traders and merchants from
the Phoenicians to the Arabs to the Portuguese carried these products and ideas into exchange
with the coast of Sub-Saharan Africa and the islands of what is now Indonesia.
The greatest seafarers of all may have been the Polynesian (“many islands”) cultures
that spread into the Pacific. Their ancestors had reached Fiji in the South Pacific almost
3,000 years ago (see Smith 2008). By the end of the first millennium, they had navigated
in sailing canoes across thousands of miles of open ocean to reach Tahiti, Hawaii, and
remote Easter Island. By the 1300s, they were settled in the islands of what is now New
Zealand, perhaps the largest landmass outside of Antarctica still to be inhabited.
About the same time that Polynesians were landing in Hawaii, Norse sailors, or
“Vikings,” from Norway and Denmark were making the first connections across the Atlan-
tic in single-sail oar boats. They settled first in Iceland, then Greenland, and finally found a
tenuous foothold on the North American mainland in what is now the Labrador coast of
Canada. In Iceland and Greenland, the Norse sailors encountered other intrepid sailors in
much smaller boats, oceangoing kayaks that could weave in and out of narrow inlets through
the ice-strewn waters. The Norse called them skraelings, meaning “babblers,” since they
couldn’t understand their language. These people were part of a hunter–gatherer culture that
had adapted to life on the edges of the Arctic Ocean in a series of communities that circled
the North Pole. “Inuit” in their language family, and later dubbed “Eskimos,” this group
provided trading partners for the Norse, until they eventually fell into hostilities. The Norse
who landed in North America soon found greater hostilities from groups already there. These
weren’t Eskimos, however, but Amerindians, the northern fringe of communities descended
from those first ice age hikers, who now spanned North and South America. The Norsemen
(they had yet to bring families) had iron axes and swords but no firearms around the turn of
the second millennium. Outnumbered by hunter–gatherers proficient in the use of the bow
and arrow, the Norse retreated from the first cross-Atlantic encounter (Diamond 1997).
After tenuous connections along icy northern routes, open-water seafaring allowed
Europeans to extend their commerce, control, and curiosity to the Americas. Though they
were slow to realize it, what they encountered in the Americas was also a network of empires
and cultures with trade routes that spanned North, Central, and South America and the
Caribbean. Intensive maize (corn) farming in Mesoamerica—what is now Mexico and
Central America—allowed for great cities and realms that would finally end with the Aztec
and Mayan Empires. In South America, a trade network up and down the Andes Mountains
permitted the rise and fall of great civilizations, and finally merged into a single empire of
the Quechua-speakers we have learned to call the Inca. In both North and South America,
the desert, plains, and forestlands provided for myriad villages and the occasional city, such
as Cahokia near present-day St. Louis.
Making a World System

The world of 1450 was one of scattered empires interconnected by a vast web of trade
routes. For most, however, life was local; they lived in towns and villages where farming
could be sustained or in great nomadic groups of hunters and herders across dry and moun-
tainous country on each continent. Then everything changed. For some scholars such as
Immanuel Wallerstein, a whole new system of society and economics, a world system, was
born (Wallerstein 1974). For others, such as Andre Gunder Frank, this was more likely an
intensification of the empires that had been expanding for thousands of years (Frank and
Gills 1993). In 1453, the great city on the straits connecting the Black Sea and the Mediter-
ranean, and the passage between Europe and Asia, fell to the Turkish Empire. Europe was
a varied collection of relatively small states whose nobility had developed a taste for east-
ern commodities. With the overland routes closed by what they saw as a hostile force,
where would they go?
In small country on a sliver of land facing the Atlantic, a prince dabbled in improving
trade and navigation by sea, earning himself the title of Prince Henry the Navigator. The
prince encouraged ocean exploration, the only way that the tiny country of Portugal could
ever be a wealthy power. His sailors braved open ocean waters to settle in the Azores,
and then turned south toward Africa. They began a series of trading ports along the Afri-
can coast. Eventually they rounded the Cape of Good Hope, the southernmost part of
Africa, with great new hope as they entered the Indian Ocean. The coast of East Africa
was already dominated by Swahili traders of Arab and East African descent. With slower
but more powerful ships and newly cast cannon, the Portuguese muscled in and dominated
the Indian Ocean trade from Africa to India to the East Indies (now Indonesia) and even-
tually all the way around to China and Japan. Wealth flowed in. China and Ottoman
Turkey remained powerful, but in terms of control of the world system, the 1400s became
the Portuguese Century.
By the end of the 1400s, Isabel the Catholic of Castile and Ferdinand of Aragon were
uniting Spain and driving out the last of its Islamic rulers. After years of war, they needed
money. But the Portuguese controlled the African trade and the sea routes to Asia. When
an Italian-born sailor, whom the English would call Christopher Columbus, showed up with
great bravado and maps that horribly underestimated the size of the planet, he convinced
them he could find a route by sailing west. What he found were two vast connected conti-
nents, one likely visited by Vikings and the other by Polynesians, but largely cut off from
his world for at least 10,000 years. The Spanish began colonies in the Caribbean, dominat-
ing, largely enslaving, and ultimately nearly exterminating the native population. Then two
men from the poorest, meanest, toughest part of Spain decided to make good on the main-
land. They discovered and dismantled the two extensive American empires that commanded
great troves of gold and silver. The Spanish needed gold and used the cold steel of swords
and armor and the hot lead of newly developed firearms to take it. Cortés plundered and
dismantled the Aztec Empire of Mexico and Pizarro did the same to the Inca Empire of
Peru. They were not professional soldiers bent on conquest but adventurers who formed
“trading companies” for profit and plunder. Kim MacQuarrie (2007) calls Pizarro’s group
“a few hundred of well-armed entrepreneurs.” As American gold and silver traveled in
European ships to purchase goods in Chinese ports, the great American regional network
was fully incorporated into a global world system, now dominated by Spain. The 1500s
were Spain’s Siglo de Oro, or Golden Century—the Spanish Century.
When Spaniard Ferdinand Magellan sailed to the Philippines and his ships continued
around the world, Spain’s trade routes became the first to completely circle the globe. While
Spanish forces and entrepreneurs came to control great trade routes, they were losing con-
trol of another group of independent-minded entrepreneurs: the Dutch. The Netherlands
gained independence from Spain but could never hold back enough of the sea to make Hol-
land great on its own reclaimed land, so the Dutch took to the sea. They built better ships
and formed bigger and better trading companies. Eventually, Dutch burghers, or business-
people, wrested control of global trade from the Spanish and the Portuguese. They estab-
lished themselves in the Americas, Africa, and Asia, often replacing their rivals. The Dutch
faced new rivals in the growing British navy as well as others, but in large measure, the
1600s were the Dutch Century.
France lagged as a naval power but developed powerful armies and then clamored to
claim its share of the Americas, of North and West Africa, and of India. Paris flourished as
a cultural and economic center. French became the lingua franca, or common language, of
trade. With his armies victorious and wealth pouring in from around the world, Louis XIV
reigned in Versailles for 72 years as the “Sun King.” His power established French suprem-
acy at the beginning of the 1700s, just as Napoleon’s victories would reestablish it at the
end of the 1700s. This was the French Century.
England had been rising in power since much of the Spanish Armada sank off its shores
in 1588. United as Great Britain in the early 1700s, England first challenged the Dutch and
then the French for global supremacy. The English gained ever-greater control in Canada
and in India from their French rivals, only to lose the American colonies to a French-backed
revolution. But with Napoleon defeated at Waterloo in 1815, the British Empire was unhin-
dered and able to encircle the globe. British traders replaced the Spanish as the dominant
force in much of Latin America and the Caribbean, they claimed ever-greater portions of
coastal Africa, and gradually gained control of all of South Asia, what is now India, Pakistan,
Bangladesh, and Burma (Myanmar). Queen Victoria became Empress of India and reigned
for 60 years over an empire on which “the sun never set.” The 1800s were the British Century.
British dominance was challenged in the late 1800s by various European powers, most
notably a newly united Germany. As the world industrialized, it was no longer sufficient to
control trade routes; a great power also had to control raw materials for growing industry.
Africa became the center of this great resource grab. European control had been limited to
the coastal ports, but in a matter of decades in the late 1800s, the African interior was carved
into colonies distributed by the treaty of Berlin in 1884. Russia gained power by sweeping
ever eastward. While Russian Cossacks rode east, the U.S. cavalry rode west claiming vast
areas from the last native nations after it seized the U.S. Southwest from Mexico. Hemmed
in by one another, the other European states coveted the vast lands of Africa to bolster their
dominance in the world system.
Empires in Collision
The 1800s were dominated by the struggle to maintain and extend these great empires.
European nations vied with one another for dominance around the globe. Spain lost much
of its great empire early in century to Napoleonic invasions at home and uprisings in
Mexico and South America. It managed to retain Cuba and the Philippines until late in the
century. Portugal held on to Brazil until 1822 and struggled to keep its hold in Africa. France
gave up its last great stake in North America by selling the Louisiana Territory to Thomas
Jefferson and the new United States of America, but it turned to creations such as its famous
Foreign Legions (essentially a band of mercenaries) to extend its holdings in West Africa
and Southeast Asia.
Africa became the center of a great land grab beginning in the 1880s. Until that time,
most foreign possessions were small ports and territories on the coast. The interior of Africa
remained, to the Europeans at least, unknown: the “dark continent.” Increasingly, however,
European states wanted the prestige and access to resources that came with owning a piece
of the African continent. Britain dominated in the east and France in the west. Germany
claimed the remaining portions. These three nations vied for control of weak states in the
north, such as Morocco. Belgium claimed a piece out of the middle. The Belgian Congo,
operated as the private domain of King Leopold, was many times over the size of its home
country, with vast mineral and timber resources. By the end of the century, all of Africa
was European controlled or dominated.
Meanwhile, the Russian Empire grew, as the great Eurasian land empire of the czars
pushed its control south and ever eastward to capture small states and tribally held terri-
tory in the Caucasus Mountains and on to the Pacific. The result was a single land empire
greater than any other was since Genghis Khan (much the same territory, in fact). The
expense of seizing and controlling this empire was enormous, however, and some portions
were too far away to control effectively. Alaska was sold to the United States to help pay
the bills.
The United States built a large land empire by extending control ever westward, adding
Texas and then seizing the northern half of Mexico in the war of 1846. During the 1880s
and 1890s, the United States completed its own push to the Pacific, capturing vast amounts
of tribally held territories in the process. The so-called Indian Wars, made famous by doz-
ens of Western movies, were part of a worldwide movement of powerful industrial states
against the remaining tribally held territories in North America, Africa, Central Asia, and
Australia and New Zealand.
The nineteenth century ended with one final colonial war, in which the United States
seized the Philippines, Guam, and Puerto Rico from Spain and created a partially indepen-
dent Cuba in the Spanish–American War of 1898. After the terrible bloodshed of the Napo-
leonic wars of the early 1800s, however, the Europeans avoided fighting great colonial wars
with each other for much of the rest of the century.
This relative truce among empires was shattered by the cataclysm of the two great world
wars of the 1900s. World War I erupted in 1914 amid jealousies, suspicions, and alliances
among rival empires. The Russian Empire was huge and menacing but also impoverished
and corrupt and showing signs of crumbling. The Turkish Ottoman Empire had ruled the
Middle East since the Middle Ages but it was also in decay, “the sick man of Europe.” The
German Empire was strong in Europe but felt surrounded by enemies and the great reach of
the French and British Empires. The final spark was the assassination of the ruler of the
increasingly insecure Austro–Hungarian Empire by a Serbian seeking national independence.
By the time World War I ended in 1918, the Russian Empire had been destroyed. It
was recast as the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR), or Soviet Union, following
the Bolshevik Revolution. The Austro–Hungarian Empire was split into newly independent
states. The Ottoman Empire was also broken up and given to the victorious British and
French, who began to carve the area into states and emirates: Iraq, Kuwait, Jordan, Lebanon,
and the protectorate of British Palestine. The German Empire was greatly reduced, with
Germany being forced to give up its African possessions as well land in Europe to France
and to the newly recreated country of Poland, which had previously been swallowed by
Russian and German expansion.
In many ways, World War II (1939–1945) was round two in this great battle of empires.
Adolf Hitler and his Nazi Party dreamed of reestablishing a third great German empire, or
Third Reich. They dreamed of dominating Europe and controlling valuable resources in
North Africa and the Middle East, especially petroleum. While Hitler is often accused of
wanting to achieve world domination, it appears that the Nazis would have been content to
allow the British to maintain a remnant empire, the Japanese to control Asia, and the United
States to dominate the Americas. The world would have been divided into a few great
empires, with the German as the most important. In Italy, Benito Mussolini dreamed of the
glories of the Roman Empire and sought conquests in North Africa. In Asia, Japan sought
an “Asian co-prosperity sphere,” in which the European powers—Britain, France, and the
Netherlands—and the United States would be expelled from Asia and replaced by Japanese
dominance under the rule of the Emperor Hirohito, essentially a greater Japanese Empire. In
Great Britain, Winston Churchill promised to prevent the “liquidation” of the British Empire.
In the United States, Franklin D. Roosevelt envisioned a world of free trade without empires
or spheres of control, one in which U.S. commercial interests would likely dominate.
Germany moved to seize the territory it had lost in World War I, and World War II
began as Germany invaded Poland. Shortly thereafter, it invaded France and demanded
return of lost border territory. Josef Stalin’s Soviet Union joined in the invasion of Poland,
as it tried to reclaim all the territory of the Russian Empire, including Finland. The need for
resources, especially grain and petroleum, led the German Nazis to battle Britain for North
Africa and to invade the Soviet Union.
To expand its own empire, Japan seized Korea and gradually extended its control over
China, replacing the dominance of the European powers. Needing further resources and
especially desperate for petroleum, Japan decided to attempt to disable the U.S. Navy, seize
the Philippines, and then drive the European powers, all facing defeat at German hands,
from Southeast Asia. The resulting war bled and bankrupted Europe and crushed Japan, and
imperial ambitions crumbled. The Philippines became independent. The Dutch East Indies
became the country of Indonesia. British holdings became Malaysia and Singapore. In India,
Mohandas Gandhi, the Mahatma or “great soul,” had been leading a nonviolent struggle for
independence. After World War II, he achieved his goal of independence but not of unity:
British India split along religious lines into Hindu-dominated India and Muslim-dominated
Pakistan in 1947, with East Pakistan later achieving independence as Bangladesh. France
fought in the early 1950s to retain French Indochina, but after a defeat at the hands of the
revolutionary leader Ho Chi Minh, withdrew to allow the independent states of Vietnam,
Cambodia, and Laos.
Independence came last to Africa. South Africa became independent as white Afrikan-
ers gained power and sought to maintain white rule. Franz Fanon (1963), from the French
Caribbean, closely watched the struggles of Africa. Seeing the poverty and oppression of
those he called “the wretched of the earth,” he called on Africans to purge the violence of
colonialism with the violence of liberation struggle. Algeria, whose struggle inspired Fanon,
fought the French army and European settlers throughout the 1950s and gained indepen-
dence. Starting with the British Gold Coast, which reclaimed the ancient title of Ghana in
1957, Sub-Saharan Africa began to claim independence as a collage of countries whose
borders often followed old colonial lines. The Belgian Congo became independent in 1964
and was renamed Zaire, only to have its name back to “the Congo” decades later. Whites
in Rhodesia, named for British colonial administrator Cecil Rhodes, claimed independence
to try to maintain white rule. This hope was defeated in a bloody civil war that gave power
to the black majority; the country claimed the name of an ancient African civilization,
Zimbabwe. Late to gain independence were the Portuguese colonies of Mozambique and
Angola. After achieving independence in 1975, they almost immediately fell into civil war.
One of the very last colonies, what had been German Southwest Africa and held by South
Africa, finally became independent as Namibia in 1990.
The 1989 escape of Eastern Europe from Soviet control and the breakup of the Soviet
Union in 1991 could be seen as signaling the end of the Russian Empire, although fighting
in the Caucasus Mountains, including Chechnya, and unrest elsewhere still continue. The
end of the era of colonial empires in Asia came peacefully, as Britain returned Hong Kong
to China in 1997 and Portugal returned its old colonial port of Macau in 2000.
Throughout this time, nationalism remained a powerful motivator. For many, indepen-
dence brought neither peace nor prosperity. The great irony in Africa is that for many,
independence came suddenly and relatively peacefully, as Europeans abandoned the old
colonial idea. But in many cases, bloodshed followed independence.
Toward a Global Century

The 1900s might have belonged to Germany or to Germany and Japan but for the efforts of
old rivals—Britain, France, Russia—who united to contain German and Japanese expan-
sion. Decisive in the great global wars of the 1900s, however, was the nation whose access
to both vast raw materials and vast wells of immigrant labor have made it the most produc-
tive and powerful industrial economy, the United States. The 1900s emerged as the Ameri-
can Century.
What then of the third millennium of our time, this century? Some see continued
American dominance, or hegemony, in the world system. Others have looked first to the
power of Japan and more recently to the sensational economic growth of China and declared
this as a Pacific Century. We may be on the verge of something new: a truly intertwined
global system without a single core. We may be at the beginning of a Global Century.
Debates about the nature of the modern world center around three powerful forces:
1. Capitalism is the profit-driven system of private accumulation and reinvestment that

drives the world economy. In this scenario, the fundamental shift is new ways of doing
business centered around the acceptance of money and private profit. The stagnant monop-
olies of the national monarchies are broken, and a new burst of productive energy is
unleashed. Capitalism eventually penetrates all world markets and societies, transforming
them and bringing them, for better or worse, into the world economy. We will explore the
dimensions of global capitalism in the first part of this book on issues of inequality and the
search for an equitable world.
2. Imperialism is the process of international domination and empire building. In this
scenario, the key event is the rise of global imperialism based on military conquest and
European firepower. Old trade systems are disrupted and replaced by one controlled by the
great European powers, who become great because the very nature of this system allows
for appropriation and control of the world’s wealth. Imperialism proceeds in two great
waves, the first beginning in the sixteenth century with the formation of the Spanish, Por-
tuguese, British, French, Dutch, and Russian empires. This is an older form of mercantile
(“get the gold”) imperialism. It is replaced in the nineteenth century by a new wave of
industrial (“get the materials and markets”) imperialism. To the list of old imperialists are
added other newly industrial nations: Germany, Italy, Belgium, the United States, and Japan.
The competition among these industrial powers eventually sparks the great world wars of
the twentieth century. We will look at issues of conflict and the search for a more peaceful
and democratic world in the second part of this book.
3. Industrialism is the fundamental shift in the basis of society, founded on harnessing
nonanimal energy sources to drive productive machinery. In this scenario, the fundamental
shift in thinking begins in a scientific revolution in the 1600s and quickly leads to the
Industrial Revolution, beginning in Britain in the early 1700s. The subsequent diffusion of
industrial production leads to the rise of industrial society with rapid population growth,
urbanization, a growing industrial proletariat, and industrialized agriculture. Eventually the
entire world enters the era of mass production and mass consumption. We will return to
issues of developing technology, harnessing energy, and growing cities in the third part, as
we look at issues of sustainable change.
The continued global extension of commerce, control, and curiosity poses new and
changing challenges. Economic globalization challenges us to be able to operate both
effectively and ethically in the global marketplace. It has been said that one can buy in any
language, but if one hopes to sell, he or she better know the language of the customer. This
is also true of culture and society. To market global wares, one needs to understand the
culture of the customer. To market wares ethically in a world filled with graft and exploi-
tation, one needs to understand a great deal about world politics, society, and economic
systems.
Political globalization challenges us to understand the nature of power and the meaning
of global citizenship. Some have contended that many places have lost their sense of
national citizenship: the rights and responsibilities that are conferred on those who are part
of the nation. Yet we need somehow to claim a new sense of global citizenship: the rights
and responsibilities conferred on all who are part of humanity.
Cultural globalization challenges us to understand and appreciate different ways of
seeing the world, of expressing ourselves, and of building a satisfying life. Culture shock
is the term applied to those who travel to new locations without adequate preparation and
are overwhelmed by the differences. In a globalized world, it is possible to experience
culture shock without ever leaving home. New people, new ideas, new ways of life converge
on our communities and challenge our set ideas of how life should be lived. Cultural aware-
ness and appreciation allow us to feel at home in a world of diverse ideas and ways of life.
There are no sidelines anymore. The entire globe occupies center stage, and the drama
is enfolding our lives.
Plan of the Book

Globalization today is fraught with possibilities and dangers, as it has always been. A global
reach brings new opportunities for prosperity and progress. It also brings new concentrations
of power that monopolize opportunity and deny it to others. Globalization brings the prom-
ise of the empowerment of individuals and communities and the integration of these com-
munities into a new world community of exchange and respect. It also brings the harsh
possibilities of even greater exploitation of the poor and powerless and exclusion of the mass
of humanity from the promised prosperity. Around the world, we see the irony of workers
clamoring for jobs in the global economy and leaders begging for global investment while
protests grow against international labor exploitation, mounting and unsupportable interna-
tional debt, and the unchecked power of new and expanding global trade and finance orga-
nizations. The world cannot seem to agree whether this powerful genie of globalization is
good or evil, but one thing is certain: The genie will not be stuffed back into the bottle. We
must make it work for us.
In the chapters that follow, I offer brief overviews of some of the many issues that have
emerged in our rapidly changing world. On one level, this book is a story of global problems:
poverty, violence, and environmental destruction. On another, it is a story of persistent hope:
the continuing search for equity, peace, and sustainability. I wish I could take you on a
global tour to explore our changing world firsthand. In place of that, I have tried to illustrate
big ideas with the real lives and situations around the planet. I have taught students as we
traveled the world in various ways, including sailing around the world with Semester at Sea.
Each chapter begins with an account from that voyage as students encountered a world that
shocked, intrigued, delighted, dismayed, and angered them. They were warned they were
not on a “cruise,” but rather a voyage of discovery. I invite you to your own voyage of
discovery in the pages that follow—a global encounter with the people and ideas that are
remaking our world. In these “Global Encounters” we will truly circle the globe, but I have
also focused on three countries to examine in more depth: Brazil, South Africa, and India.
Each is the largest established democracy on its continent, and each represents a country
undergoing dramatic changes and becoming a major economic power. I hope that getting
to know these three places better will also give you a window into the changes sweeping
Latin America, Africa, and Asia.
Part One (Chapters 1 through 4) focuses on a world in the grip of economic globaliza-
tion and what it means to build an equitable world amid vast inequalities. We will look at
how the world came to be so divided between rich and poor, and what this means for work,
family, and education.
Part Two (Chapters 5 through 8) looks at issues of power and conflict: the prospects
for a more peaceful world emerging out of the cauldron of war, civil strife, and terrorism.
We will start with conflict at the local level with strong ties to inequality: the problem of
crime. Then we will explore how warfare has created the world we know and the prospects
for peace. We will also examine repression and human rights and finally the ways that key
areas of identity such as religion and ethnicity have proved to be both a source of strength
and of turmoil.
Part Three (Chapters 9 through 12) looks at issues of culture and the environment: what
it will take to build a sustainable society that can nourish the needs of our grandparents and
those of our great-great-grandchildren. We will start with a look at the great global cities
that are dominating the planet, and then consider how population change is taxing the global
system and ways to create healthier societies and healthier lives. The great mover in our
world continues to be rapid technological change, and we’ll examine the impact of technol-
ogy, particularly in an age of growing energy scarcity. Finally, we will look at the ways we
have remade the ecology of our planet, and the prospects for a world that sustains both
livelihoods and life itself.
Clearly, there are no simple answers. But we must never assume that there are no
answers. If we must abandon easy answers, we should not abandon hope but go on to tougher
questions and seek better, even if more complex, answers. Our search for ideas, explana-
tions, and answers will take us across the social sciences: anthropology, human geography
and social history, economics, political science, and sociology. We will also need to draw
insight from the natural sciences, especially for understanding the environment within which
we must make our decisions. Finally, we will need to reference the humanities and human-
istic pursuits: to learn from one another’s stories and ideals, as captured in literature, ethics,
worldviews, and the arts.
The goal is not to try to learn everything about everywhere, but to weave together the
strands we have gathered from many pursuits to speak to the issues raised by a world in
search of equity, peace, and sustainability. It is the fundamental challenge of our time.
Chapter 1 Class 13
PART
I
Seeking an
Equitable World
Issues of Inequality
13
14 Part I Seeking an Equitable World
An examination of global inequality is a logical place to begin any examination of global

problems, since inequality is a part of them all. Even if inequality is not the cause of the
problems, it is always an important part of how people experience global problems. In-
equality and the struggle over resources and access to power and opportunity are at the
heart of much of the world’s conflict. Inequality is also a key issue in global sustainability.
Both the very poor and the very rich can be hard on the planet. The poor may destroy land,
wildlife, forest cover, and soil and water resources in a desperate struggle to survive. At
the same time, rising levels of affluence in parts of the world have increased the energy
appetite of many places, contributing to global climate change as well as the consumption
of nonrenewable resources.
Inequality between people can operate along many dimensions: class, race, ethnicity,
gender, religion, caste, region, nationality, language, and age, among others. The first chap-
ter in Part One is an introduction to an unequal world, with an emphasis on ideas about
social class. Class analysis has typically focused on inequalities within a single national
society. But for many in North America and Europe, the working class, who make our
industrial products and harvest our food, live in Latin America and, especially, in Asia. The
excluded poor are particularly concentrated on the continent of Africa.
These groups are intertwined in a division of labor connected by global trade. Chapter
2 will examine the world of work and the ways that workers are interconnected in a web of
trade relations. Of particular interest are both–those who do the work and those who set the
rules of the game–that determine who gets ahead and who stays behind.
One cannot go far into the world of work without confronting issues of gender and
family, examined in Chapter 3. Many societies have had a sexual division of labor, with
women responsible for some tasks and men for others. Even as this division breaks down,
deep gender inequalities remain in the expectations of who will do what work and how they
will be compensated. The balance between work and family, and all the unpaid work that
may come with providing for the needs of children and other family members, challenges
people around the world, and is a key factor in gender inequality.
Finally, people everywhere look to education, discussed in Chapter 4, as a means to
mobility, to moving up into better work and better rewards. Yet education itself, in quality
and availability, can be a key element of inequality. Without a good chance at a complete
education, many other life chances will be severely limited.
These dimensions become more controversial when we look at how lives are interre-
lated around the world. If I happen to be rich and you happen to be poor, that is an issue of
inequality. If I am rich exactly because you are poor, that is a problem of ethics and equity.
Life is unfair, we are told, and with good reason. But must human society be built on ineq-
uitable relationships? The quest for social justice, a sense of basic fairness for all, is the
common theme throughout the next four chapters.
1
Class
A World of Rich and Poor
Photo by Scott Sernau
G L O B A L E N C O U N T E R S
Bahamas
The road to paradise can be bumpy. Braving late August in the Caribbean, we flew through
the eye of a building hurricane. Eventually, we spun out of the clouds, to land in the Bahamas
outside of Nassau.
Perhaps paradise doesn’t present as well in the rain. Dropping through the clouds,
the waterfront of New Providence Island is lined with homes and hotels all dressed in
Bahamian pastels on palm-fringed properties. Just out of sight of the water, the landscape
changes. Tired clapboard houses list in the wind, cattle wander around muddy clearings in
the trees, and roads and fields are covered by brackish standing water.
On the ground, the highway follows the coastline past row upon row of expensive
houses in Pastel Stucco and a bit of wrought iron. These are second homes for snowbirds
from the United States, Canada, and Europe, and most sit empty during the rainy summer.
The only competition for space comes from the gated grounds of large resort complexes.
Club Med was here early on and newcomers abound– Sandals offers a paradise retreat
to couples, others target other tourist niches. In Nassau, the old British colonial hotel is
15
now a Hilton, its stately grounds largely filled with those waiting to board their
cruise ships.
Nassau has beautiful old churches and stately historic houses on its hillsides, but the
dominant skyline is offshore: towering ships and the castle. The castle looms over the city
in unnatural shades of pink, topped with Las Vegas-like interpretations of gothic turrets,
leaping dolphins, and a somewhat sinister-looking King Neptune. The scale is enormous,
with huge towers connected by vaulted bridges. It dwarfs the British colonial hotel; it
dwarfs Nassau itself. This is Atlantis. Once the object of high-stakes deal making between
Merv Griffin and Donald Trump, it is now the property of “King Sol,” a South African bil-
lionaire. The hotel is the centerpiece of a vast property that includes a water park and
shark aquarium, all centered on the sunken city theme. The core of this operation, however,
is the casino; all visitors are routed through it wherever they may be headed. A brilliant
combination of Orlando, Las Vegas, and Hilton Head, the Atlantis is now the area’s largest
employer and dominates the economy as well as the skyline. Our cab driver, a large
Bahamian woman, who is amazingly adept at hefting and tossing massive suitcases, nods
and smiles when we mention Atlantis. “Yah, that King Sol, he employ a lot of people. And
that good, we jobs here now. But he also run the town. He get what he asks for.” Indeed,
the small parliament house we pass in town seems slight compared to the great castle.
Atlantis is not in Nassau proper but sits off on Paradise Island, now connected to
Nassau by a tall arching bridge. Paradise Island is a narrow slip of land that an earlier
generation of sailors knew as Hoggs Island. Somehow, that name would not do for travel
brochures and it became Paradise Island. Truckloads of sand and a fringe of planted palms
completed the transformation. Its big-spending gamblers don’t travel by cab but are shut-
tled by limo right from the airport to the casino. Our seatmate on the plane had tapped
his Rolex and noted that the limo could have him in the casino, with a drink in his hand in
under a half hour. “But lock your doors as you go through Nassau, it’s a sad sight. I don’t
ever leave Paradise.” Who would?
The channel between Nassau and Paradise Island contains the cruise ship dock. The
great orange boats of Carnival Cruise Lines bob in and out of the harbor like great orange
life vests. The boats have jogging tracks, four pools, and a climbing wall for passengers to
exercise off the copious meals. They stay for a single afternoon. All day the dock has two
lines of the tanned and the sunburned coming and going from the ships, looking a bit like
red ants streaming in and out. Unless they take taxis to the Atlantis, the passengers have
a little time to walk around. They walk through the line of shops along Bay Street, mostly
offering jewelry and Asian-made clothes. When we too walk from this circuit toward the
east end of town, we are warned by a local woman to go no further. “Not good. There are
bad boys up there robbing people. Better go back.”
With friends who know the city well, I do get to travel inland to other neighborhoods
and local restaurants. In the sunshine, Nassau can be a lovely and welcoming city with a
rich history. I left with many questions, however, about this type of tourist-driven develop-
ment. At its best, travel is about meetings, encounters, and exchanges. Yet, we also know
the dehumanizing side of tourism. The tourist becomes faceless, a disembodied wallet on
a short timetable. The residents of tourist destinations are reduced to hawkers and haulers
or a snapshot novelty. Perhaps humanizing these encounters would be the first step in
humanizing development.
16
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DANCE ON STILTS AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI
Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

the Newala of to-day does; there was once another Newala in a lovely
valley at the foot of the plateau. I visited it and found scarcely a trace
of houses, only a Christian cemetery, with the graves of several
missionaries and their converts, remaining as a monument of its
former glories. But the surroundings are wonderfully beautiful. A
thick grove of splendid mango-trees closes in the weather-worn
crosses and headstones; behind them, combining the useful and the
agreeable, is a whole plantation of lemon-trees covered with ripe
fruit; not the small African kind, but a much larger and also juicier
imported variety, which drops into the hands of the passing traveller,
without calling for any exertion on his part. Old Newala is now under
the jurisdiction of the native pastor, Daudi, at Chingulungulu, who,
as I am on very friendly terms with him, allows me, as a matter of
course, the use of this lemon-grove during my stay at Newala.
FEET MUTILATED BY THE RAVAGES OF THE “JIGGER”
(Sarcopsylla penetrans)
The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

some 1,600 feet lower down. The way is not only long and fatiguing,
but the water, when we get it, is thoroughly bad. We are suffering not
only from this, but from the fact that the arrangements at Newala are
nothing short of luxurious. We have a separate kitchen—a hut built
against the boma palisade on the right of the baraza, the interior of
which is not visible from our usual position. Our two cooks were not
long in finding this out, and they consequently do—or rather neglect
to do—what they please. In any case they do not seem to be very
particular about the boiling of our drinking-water—at least I can
attribute to no other cause certain attacks of a dysenteric nature,
from which both Knudsen and I have suffered for some time. If a
man like Omari has to be left unwatched for a moment, he is capable
of anything. Besides this complaint, we are inconvenienced by the
state of our nails, which have become as hard as glass, and crack on
the slightest provocation, and I have the additional infliction of
pimples all over me. As if all this were not enough, we have also, for
the last week been waging war against the jigger, who has found his
Eldorado in the hot sand of the Makonde plateau. Our men are seen
all day long—whenever their chronic colds and the dysentery likewise
raging among them permit—occupied in removing this scourge of
Africa from their feet and trying to prevent the disastrous
consequences of its presence. It is quite common to see natives of
this place with one or two toes missing; many have lost all their toes,
or even the whole front part of the foot, so that a well-formed leg
ends in a shapeless stump. These ravages are caused by the female of
Sarcopsylla penetrans, which bores its way under the skin and there
develops an egg-sac the size of a pea. In all books on the subject, it is
stated that one’s attention is called to the presence of this parasite by
an intolerable itching. This agrees very well with my experience, so
far as the softer parts of the sole, the spaces between and under the
toes, and the side of the foot are concerned, but if the creature
penetrates through the harder parts of the heel or ball of the foot, it
may escape even the most careful search till it has reached maturity.
Then there is no time to be lost, if the horrible ulceration, of which
we see cases by the dozen every day, is to be prevented. It is much
easier, by the way, to discover the insect on the white skin of a
European than on that of a native, on which the dark speck scarcely
shows. The four or five jiggers which, in spite of the fact that I
constantly wore high laced boots, chose my feet to settle in, were
taken out for me by the all-accomplished Knudsen, after which I
thought it advisable to wash out the cavities with corrosive
sublimate. The natives have a different sort of disinfectant—they fill
the hole with scraped roots. In a tiny Makua village on the slope of
the plateau south of Newala, we saw an old woman who had filled all
the spaces under her toe-nails with powdered roots by way of
prophylactic treatment. What will be the result, if any, who can say?
The rest of the many trifling ills which trouble our existence are
really more comic than serious. In the absence of anything else to
smoke, Knudsen and I at last opened a box of cigars procured from
the Indian store-keeper at Lindi, and tried them, with the most
distressing results. Whether they contain opium or some other
narcotic, neither of us can say, but after the tenth puff we were both
“off,” three-quarters stupefied and unspeakably wretched. Slowly we
recovered—and what happened next? Half-an-hour later we were
once more smoking these poisonous concoctions—so insatiable is the
craving for tobacco in the tropics.
Even my present attacks of fever scarcely deserve to be taken
seriously. I have had no less than three here at Newala, all of which
have run their course in an incredibly short time. In the early
afternoon, I am busy with my old natives, asking questions and
making notes. The strong midday coffee has stimulated my spirits to
an extraordinary degree, the brain is active and vigorous, and work
progresses rapidly, while a pleasant warmth pervades the whole
body. Suddenly this gives place to a violent chill, forcing me to put on
my overcoat, though it is only half-past three and the afternoon sun
is at its hottest. Now the brain no longer works with such acuteness
and logical precision; more especially does it fail me in trying to
establish the syntax of the difficult Makua language on which I have
ventured, as if I had not enough to do without it. Under the
circumstances it seems advisable to take my temperature, and I do
so, to save trouble, without leaving my seat, and while going on with
my work. On examination, I find it to be 101·48°. My tutors are
abruptly dismissed and my bed set up in the baraza; a few minutes
later I am in it and treating myself internally with hot water and
lemon-juice.
Three hours later, the thermometer marks nearly 104°, and I make
them carry me back into the tent, bed and all, as I am now perspiring
heavily, and exposure to the cold wind just beginning to blow might
mean a fatal chill. I lie still for a little while, and then find, to my
great relief, that the temperature is not rising, but rather falling. This
is about 7.30 p.m. At 8 p.m. I find, to my unbounded astonishment,
that it has fallen below 98·6°, and I feel perfectly well. I read for an
hour or two, and could very well enjoy a smoke, if I had the
wherewithal—Indian cigars being out of the question.
Having no medical training, I am at a loss to account for this state
of things. It is impossible that these transitory attacks of high fever
should be malarial; it seems more probable that they are due to a
kind of sunstroke. On consulting my note-book, I become more and
more inclined to think this is the case, for these attacks regularly
follow extreme fatigue and long exposure to strong sunshine. They at
least have the advantage of being only short interruptions to my
work, as on the following morning I am always quite fresh and fit.
My treasure of a cook is suffering from an enormous hydrocele which
makes it difficult for him to get up, and Moritz is obliged to keep in
the dark on account of his inflamed eyes. Knudsen’s cook, a raw boy
from somewhere in the bush, knows still less of cooking than Omari;
consequently Nils Knudsen himself has been promoted to the vacant
post. Finding that we had come to the end of our supplies, he began
by sending to Chingulungulu for the four sucking-pigs which we had
bought from Matola and temporarily left in his charge; and when
they came up, neatly packed in a large crate, he callously slaughtered
the biggest of them. The first joint we were thoughtless enough to
entrust for roasting to Knudsen’s mshenzi cook, and it was
consequently uneatable; but we made the rest of the animal into a
jelly which we ate with great relish after weeks of underfeeding,
consuming incredible helpings of it at both midday and evening
meals. The only drawback is a certain want of variety in the tinned
vegetables. Dr. Jäger, to whom the Geographical Commission
entrusted the provisioning of the expeditions—mine as well as his
own—because he had more time on his hands than the rest of us,
seems to have laid in a huge stock of Teltow turnips,[46] an article of
food which is all very well for occasional use, but which quickly palls
when set before one every day; and we seem to have no other tins
left. There is no help for it—we must put up with the turnips; but I
am certain that, once I am home again, I shall not touch them for ten
years to come.
Amid all these minor evils, which, after all, go to make up the
genuine flavour of Africa, there is at least one cheering touch:
Knudsen has, with the dexterity of a skilled mechanic, repaired my 9
× 12 cm. camera, at least so far that I can use it with a little care.
How, in the absence of finger-nails, he was able to accomplish such a
ticklish piece of work, having no tool but a clumsy screw-driver for
taking to pieces and putting together again the complicated
mechanism of the instantaneous shutter, is still a mystery to me; but
he did it successfully. The loss of his finger-nails shows him in a light
contrasting curiously enough with the intelligence evinced by the
above operation; though, after all, it is scarcely surprising after his
ten years’ residence in the bush. One day, at Lindi, he had occasion
to wash a dog, which must have been in need of very thorough
cleansing, for the bottle handed to our friend for the purpose had an
extremely strong smell. Having performed his task in the most
conscientious manner, he perceived with some surprise that the dog
did not appear much the better for it, and was further surprised by
finding his own nails ulcerating away in the course of the next few
days. “How was I to know that carbolic acid has to be diluted?” he
mutters indignantly, from time to time, with a troubled gaze at his
mutilated finger-tips.
Since we came to Newala we have been making excursions in all
directions through the surrounding country, in accordance with old
habit, and also because the akida Sefu did not get together the tribal
elders from whom I wanted information so speedily as he had
promised. There is, however, no harm done, as, even if seen only
from the outside, the country and people are interesting enough.
The Makonde plateau is like a large rectangular table rounded off
at the corners. Measured from the Indian Ocean to Newala, it is
about seventy-five miles long, and between the Rovuma and the
Lukuledi it averages fifty miles in breadth, so that its superficial area
is about two-thirds of that of the kingdom of Saxony. The surface,
however, is not level, but uniformly inclined from its south-western
edge to the ocean. From the upper edge, on which Newala lies, the
eye ranges for many miles east and north-east, without encountering
any obstacle, over the Makonde bush. It is a green sea, from which
here and there thick clouds of smoke rise, to show that it, too, is
inhabited by men who carry on their tillage like so many other
primitive peoples, by cutting down and burning the bush, and
manuring with the ashes. Even in the radiant light of a tropical day
such a fire is a grand sight.
Much less effective is the impression produced just now by the
great western plain as seen from the edge of the plateau. As often as
time permits, I stroll along this edge, sometimes in one direction,
sometimes in another, in the hope of finding the air clear enough to
let me enjoy the view; but I have always been disappointed.
Wherever one looks, clouds of smoke rise from the burning bush,
and the air is full of smoke and vapour. It is a pity, for under more
favourable circumstances the panorama of the whole country up to
the distant Majeje hills must be truly magnificent. It is of little use
taking photographs now, and an outline sketch gives a very poor idea
of the scenery. In one of these excursions I went out of my way to
make a personal attempt on the Makonde bush. The present edge of
the plateau is the result of a far-reaching process of destruction
through erosion and denudation. The Makonde strata are
everywhere cut into by ravines, which, though short, are hundreds of
yards in depth. In consequence of the loose stratification of these
beds, not only are the walls of these ravines nearly vertical, but their
upper end is closed by an equally steep escarpment, so that the
western edge of the Makonde plateau is hemmed in by a series of
deep, basin-like valleys. In order to get from one side of such a ravine
to the other, I cut my way through the bush with a dozen of my men.
It was a very open part, with more grass than scrub, but even so the
short stretch of less than two hundred yards was very hard work; at
the end of it the men’s calicoes were in rags and they themselves
bleeding from hundreds of scratches, while even our strong khaki
suits had not escaped scatheless.
NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAHUTA
I see increasing reason to believe that the view formed some time
back as to the origin of the Makonde bush is the correct one. I have
no doubt that it is not a natural product, but the result of human
occupation. Those parts of the high country where man—as a very
slight amount of practice enables the eye to perceive at once—has not
yet penetrated with axe and hoe, are still occupied by a splendid
timber forest quite able to sustain a comparison with our mixed
forests in Germany. But wherever man has once built his hut or tilled
his field, this horrible bush springs up. Every phase of this process
may be seen in the course of a couple of hours’ walk along the main
road. From the bush to right or left, one hears the sound of the axe—
not from one spot only, but from several directions at once. A few
steps further on, we can see what is taking place. The brush has been
cut down and piled up in heaps to the height of a yard or more,
between which the trunks of the large trees stand up like the last
pillars of a magnificent ruined building. These, too, present a
melancholy spectacle: the destructive Makonde have ringed them—
cut a broad strip of bark all round to ensure their dying off—and also
piled up pyramids of brush round them. Father and son, mother and
son-in-law, are chopping away perseveringly in the background—too
busy, almost, to look round at the white stranger, who usually excites
so much interest. If you pass by the same place a week later, the piles
of brushwood have disappeared and a thick layer of ashes has taken
the place of the green forest. The large trees stretch their
smouldering trunks and branches in dumb accusation to heaven—if
they have not already fallen and been more or less reduced to ashes,
perhaps only showing as a white stripe on the dark ground.
This work of destruction is carried out by the Makonde alike on the
virgin forest and on the bush which has sprung up on sites already
cultivated and deserted. In the second case they are saved the trouble
of burning the large trees, these being entirely absent in the
secondary bush.
After burning this piece of forest ground and loosening it with the
hoe, the native sows his corn and plants his vegetables. All over the
country, he goes in for bed-culture, which requires, and, in fact,
receives, the most careful attention. Weeds are nowhere tolerated in
the south of German East Africa. The crops may fail on the plains,
where droughts are frequent, but never on the plateau with its
abundant rains and heavy dews. Its fortunate inhabitants even have
the satisfaction of seeing the proud Wayao and Wamakua working
for them as labourers, driven by hunger to serve where they were
accustomed to rule.
But the light, sandy soil is soon exhausted, and would yield no
harvest the second year if cultivated twice running. This fact has
been familiar to the native for ages; consequently he provides in
time, and, while his crop is growing, prepares the next plot with axe
and firebrand. Next year he plants this with his various crops and
lets the first piece lie fallow. For a short time it remains waste and
desolate; then nature steps in to repair the destruction wrought by
man; a thousand new growths spring out of the exhausted soil, and
even the old stumps put forth fresh shoots. Next year the new growth
is up to one’s knees, and in a few years more it is that terrible,
impenetrable bush, which maintains its position till the black
occupier of the land has made the round of all the available sites and
come back to his starting point.
The Makonde are, body and soul, so to speak, one with this bush.
According to my Yao informants, indeed, their name means nothing
else but “bush people.” Their own tradition says that they have been
settled up here for a very long time, but to my surprise they laid great
stress on an original immigration. Their old homes were in the
south-east, near Mikindani and the mouth of the Rovuma, whence
their peaceful forefathers were driven by the continual raids of the
Sakalavas from Madagascar and the warlike Shirazis[47] of the coast,
to take refuge on the almost inaccessible plateau. I have studied
African ethnology for twenty years, but the fact that changes of
population in this apparently quiet and peaceable corner of the earth
could have been occasioned by outside enterprises taking place on
the high seas, was completely new to me. It is, no doubt, however,
correct.
The charming tribal legend of the Makonde—besides informing us
of other interesting matters—explains why they have to live in the
thickest of the bush and a long way from the edge of the plateau,
instead of making their permanent homes beside the purling brooks
and springs of the low country.
“The place where the tribe originated is Mahuta, on the southern
side of the plateau towards the Rovuma, where of old time there was
nothing but thick bush. Out of this bush came a man who never
washed himself or shaved his head, and who ate and drank but little.
He went out and made a human figure from the wood of a tree
growing in the open country, which he took home to his abode in the
bush and there set it upright. In the night this image came to life and
was a woman. The man and woman went down together to the
Rovuma to wash themselves. Here the woman gave birth to a still-
born child. They left that place and passed over the high land into the
valley of the Mbemkuru, where the woman had another child, which
was also born dead. Then they returned to the high bush country of
Mahuta, where the third child was born, which lived and grew up. In
course of time, the couple had many more children, and called
themselves Wamatanda. These were the ancestral stock of the
Makonde, also called Wamakonde,[48] i.e., aborigines. Their
forefather, the man from the bush, gave his children the command to
bury their dead upright, in memory of the mother of their race who
was cut out of wood and awoke to life when standing upright. He also
warned them against settling in the valleys and near large streams,
for sickness and death dwelt there. They were to make it a rule to
have their huts at least an hour’s walk from the nearest watering-
place; then their children would thrive and escape illness.”
The explanation of the name Makonde given by my informants is
somewhat different from that contained in the above legend, which I
extract from a little book (small, but packed with information), by
Pater Adams, entitled Lindi und sein Hinterland. Otherwise, my
results agree exactly with the statements of the legend. Washing?
Hapana—there is no such thing. Why should they do so? As it is, the
supply of water scarcely suffices for cooking and drinking; other
people do not wash, so why should the Makonde distinguish himself
by such needless eccentricity? As for shaving the head, the short,
woolly crop scarcely needs it,[49] so the second ancestral precept is
likewise easy enough to follow. Beyond this, however, there is
nothing ridiculous in the ancestor’s advice. I have obtained from
various local artists a fairly large number of figures carved in wood,
ranging from fifteen to twenty-three inches in height, and
representing women belonging to the great group of the Mavia,
Makonde, and Matambwe tribes. The carving is remarkably well
done and renders the female type with great accuracy, especially the
keloid ornamentation, to be described later on. As to the object and
meaning of their works the sculptors either could or (more probably)
would tell me nothing, and I was forced to content myself with the
scanty information vouchsafed by one man, who said that the figures
were merely intended to represent the nembo—the artificial
deformations of pelele, ear-discs, and keloids. The legend recorded
by Pater Adams places these figures in a new light. They must surely
be more than mere dolls; and we may even venture to assume that
they are—though the majority of present-day Makonde are probably
unaware of the fact—representations of the tribal ancestress.
The references in the legend to the descent from Mahuta to the
Rovuma, and to a journey across the highlands into the Mbekuru
valley, undoubtedly indicate the previous history of the tribe, the
travels of the ancestral pair typifying the migrations of their
descendants. The descent to the neighbouring Rovuma valley, with
its extraordinary fertility and great abundance of game, is intelligible
at a glance—but the crossing of the Lukuledi depression, the ascent
to the Rondo Plateau and the descent to the Mbemkuru, also lie
within the bounds of probability, for all these districts have exactly
the same character as the extreme south. Now, however, comes a
point of especial interest for our bacteriological age. The primitive
Makonde did not enjoy their lives in the marshy river-valleys.
Disease raged among them, and many died. It was only after they
had returned to their original home near Mahuta, that the health
conditions of these people improved. We are very apt to think of the
African as a stupid person whose ignorance of nature is only equalled
by his fear of it, and who looks on all mishaps as caused by evil
spirits and malignant natural powers. It is much more correct to
assume in this case that the people very early learnt to distinguish
districts infested with malaria from those where it is absent.
This knowledge is crystallized in the
ancestral warning against settling in the
valleys and near the great waters, the
dwelling-places of disease and death. At the
same time, for security against the hostile
Mavia south of the Rovuma, it was enacted
that every settlement must be not less than a
certain distance from the southern edge of the
plateau. Such in fact is their mode of life at the
present day. It is not such a bad one, and
certainly they are both safer and more
comfortable than the Makua, the recent
intruders from the south, who have made USUAL METHOD OF
good their footing on the western edge of the CLOSING HUT-DOOR
plateau, extending over a fairly wide belt of
country. Neither Makua nor Makonde show in their dwellings
anything of the size and comeliness of the Yao houses in the plain,
especially at Masasi, Chingulungulu and Zuza’s. Jumbe Chauro, a
Makonde hamlet not far from Newala, on the road to Mahuta, is the
most important settlement of the tribe I have yet seen, and has fairly
spacious huts. But how slovenly is their construction compared with
the palatial residences of the elephant-hunters living in the plain.
The roofs are still more untidy than in the general run of huts during
the dry season, the walls show here and there the scanty beginnings
or the lamentable remains of the mud plastering, and the interior is a
veritable dog-kennel; dirt, dust and disorder everywhere. A few huts
only show any attempt at division into rooms, and this consists
merely of very roughly-made bamboo partitions. In one point alone
have I noticed any indication of progress—in the method of fastening
the door. Houses all over the south are secured in a simple but
ingenious manner. The door consists of a set of stout pieces of wood
or bamboo, tied with bark-string to two cross-pieces, and moving in
two grooves round one of the door-posts, so as to open inwards. If
the owner wishes to leave home, he takes two logs as thick as a man’s
upper arm and about a yard long. One of these is placed obliquely
against the middle of the door from the inside, so as to form an angle
of from 60° to 75° with the ground. He then places the second piece
horizontally across the first, pressing it downward with all his might.
It is kept in place by two strong posts planted in the ground a few
inches inside the door. This fastening is absolutely safe, but of course
cannot be applied to both doors at once, otherwise how could the
owner leave or enter his house? I have not yet succeeded in finding
out how the back door is fastened.
MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

This is the general way of closing a house. The Makonde at Jumbe
Chauro, however, have a much more complicated, solid and original
one. Here, too, the door is as already described, except that there is
only one post on the inside, standing by itself about six inches from
one side of the doorway. Opposite this post is a hole in the wall just
large enough to admit a man’s arm. The door is closed inside by a
large wooden bolt passing through a hole in this post and pressing
with its free end against the door. The other end has three holes into
which fit three pegs running in vertical grooves inside the post. The
door is opened with a wooden key about a foot long, somewhat
curved and sloped off at the butt; the other end has three pegs
corresponding to the holes, in the bolt, so that, when it is thrust
through the hole in the wall and inserted into the rectangular
opening in the post, the pegs can be lifted and the bolt drawn out.[50]
MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY
With no small pride first one householder and then a second

showed me on the spot the action of this greatest invention of the
Makonde Highlands. To both with an admiring exclamation of
“Vizuri sana!” (“Very fine!”). I expressed the wish to take back these
marvels with me to Ulaya, to show the Wazungu what clever fellows
the Makonde are. Scarcely five minutes after my return to camp at
Newala, the two men came up sweating under the weight of two
heavy logs which they laid down at my feet, handing over at the same
time the keys of the fallen fortress. Arguing, logically enough, that if
the key was wanted, the lock would be wanted with it, they had taken
their axes and chopped down the posts—as it never occurred to them
to dig them out of the ground and so bring them intact. Thus I have
two badly damaged specimens, and the owners, instead of praise,
come in for a blowing-up.
The Makua huts in the environs of Newala are especially
miserable; their more than slovenly construction reminds one of the
temporary erections of the Makua at Hatia’s, though the people here
have not been concerned in a war. It must therefore be due to
congenital idleness, or else to the absence of a powerful chief. Even
the baraza at Mlipa’s, a short hour’s walk south-east of Newala,
shares in this general neglect. While public buildings in this country
are usually looked after more or less carefully, this is in evident
danger of being blown over by the first strong easterly gale. The only
attractive object in this whole district is the grave of the late chief
Mlipa. I visited it in the morning, while the sun was still trying with
partial success to break through the rolling mists, and the circular
grove of tall euphorbias, which, with a broken pot, is all that marks
the old king’s resting-place, impressed one with a touch of pathos.
Even my very materially-minded carriers seemed to feel something
of the sort, for instead of their usual ribald songs, they chanted
solemnly, as we marched on through the dense green of the Makonde
bush:—
“We shall arrive with the great master; we stand in a row and have
no fear about getting our food and our money from the Serkali (the
Government). We are not afraid; we are going along with the great
master, the lion; we are going down to the coast and back.”
With regard to the characteristic features of the various tribes here
on the western edge of the plateau, I can arrive at no other
conclusion than the one already come to in the plain, viz., that it is
impossible for anyone but a trained anthropologist to assign any
given individual at once to his proper tribe. In fact, I think that even
an anthropological specialist, after the most careful examination,
might find it a difficult task to decide. The whole congeries of peoples
collected in the region bounded on the west by the great Central
African rift, Tanganyika and Nyasa, and on the east by the Indian
Ocean, are closely related to each other—some of their languages are
only distinguished from one another as dialects of the same speech,
and no doubt all the tribes present the same shape of skull and
structure of skeleton. Thus, surely, there can be no very striking
differences in outward appearance.
Even did such exist, I should have no time
to concern myself with them, for day after day,
I have to see or hear, as the case may be—in
any case to grasp and record—an
extraordinary number of ethnographic
phenomena. I am almost disposed to think it
fortunate that some departments of inquiry, at
least, are barred by external circumstances.
Chief among these is the subject of iron-
working. We are apt to think of Africa as a
country where iron ore is everywhere, so to
speak, to be picked up by the roadside, and
where it would be quite surprising if the
inhabitants had not learnt to smelt the
material ready to their hand. In fact, the
knowledge of this art ranges all over the
continent, from the Kabyles in the north to the
Kafirs in the south. Here between the Rovuma
and the Lukuledi the conditions are not so
favourable. According to the statements of the
Makonde, neither ironstone nor any other
form of iron ore is known to them. They have
not therefore advanced to the art of smelting
the metal, but have hitherto bought all their
THE ANCESTRESS OF
THE MAKONDE
iron implements from neighbouring tribes.
Even in the plain the inhabitants are not much
better off. Only one man now living is said to
understand the art of smelting iron. This old fundi lives close to
Huwe, that isolated, steep-sided block of granite which rises out of
the green solitude between Masasi and Chingulungulu, and whose
jagged and splintered top meets the traveller’s eye everywhere. While
still at Masasi I wished to see this man at work, but was told that,
frightened by the rising, he had retired across the Rovuma, though
he would soon return. All subsequent inquiries as to whether the
fundi had come back met with the genuine African answer, “Bado”
(“Not yet”).
BRAZIER
Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

came across in the bush near Akundonde’s. This man is the favourite
of women, and therefore no doubt of the gods; he welds the glittering
brass rods purchased at the coast into those massive, heavy rings
which, on the wrists and ankles of the local fair ones, continually give
me fresh food for admiration. Like every decent master-craftsman he
had all his tools with him, consisting of a pair of bellows, three
crucibles and a hammer—nothing more, apparently. He was quite
willing to show his skill, and in a twinkling had fixed his bellows on
the ground. They are simply two goat-skins, taken off whole, the four
legs being closed by knots, while the upper opening, intended to
admit the air, is kept stretched by two pieces of wood. At the lower
end of the skin a smaller opening is left into which a wooden tube is
stuck. The fundi has quickly borrowed a heap of wood-embers from
the nearest hut; he then fixes the free ends of the two tubes into an
earthen pipe, and clamps them to the ground by means of a bent
piece of wood. Now he fills one of his small clay crucibles, the dross
on which shows that they have been long in use, with the yellow
material, places it in the midst of the embers, which, at present are
only faintly glimmering, and begins his work. In quick alternation
the smith’s two hands move up and down with the open ends of the
bellows; as he raises his hand he holds the slit wide open, so as to let
the air enter the skin bag unhindered. In pressing it down he closes
the bag, and the air puffs through the bamboo tube and clay pipe into
the fire, which quickly burns up. The smith, however, does not keep
on with this work, but beckons to another man, who relieves him at
the bellows, while he takes some more tools out of a large skin pouch
carried on his back. I look on in wonder as, with a smooth round
stick about the thickness of a finger, he bores a few vertical holes into
the clean sand of the soil. This should not be difficult, yet the man
seems to be taking great pains over it. Then he fastens down to the
ground, with a couple of wooden clamps, a neat little trough made by
splitting a joint of bamboo in half, so that the ends are closed by the
two knots. At last the yellow metal has attained the right consistency,
and the fundi lifts the crucible from the fire by means of two sticks
split at the end to serve as tongs. A short swift turn to the left—a
tilting of the crucible—and the molten brass, hissing and giving forth
clouds of smoke, flows first into the bamboo mould and then into the
holes in the ground.
The technique of this backwoods craftsman may not be very far
advanced, but it cannot be denied that he knows how to obtain an
adequate result by the simplest means. The ladies of highest rank in
this country—that is to say, those who can afford it, wear two kinds
of these massive brass rings, one cylindrical, the other semicircular
in section. The latter are cast in the most ingenious way in the
bamboo mould, the former in the circular hole in the sand. It is quite
a simple matter for the fundi to fit these bars to the limbs of his fair
customers; with a few light strokes of his hammer he bends the
pliable brass round arm or ankle without further inconvenience to
the wearer.
SHAPING THE POT
SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB
CUTTING THE EDGE

FINISHING THE BOTTOM
LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

BURNING
FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

LIGHTING THE FARTHER SIDE OF
THE PILE
TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL
NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

Pottery is an art which must always and everywhere excite the
interest of the student, just because it is so intimately connected with
the development of human culture, and because its relics are one of
the principal factors in the reconstruction of our own condition in
prehistoric times. I shall always remember with pleasure the two or
three afternoons at Masasi when Salim Matola’s mother, a slightly-
built, graceful, pleasant-looking woman, explained to me with
touching patience, by means of concrete illustrations, the ceramic art
of her people. The only implements for this primitive process were a
lump of clay in her left hand, and in the right a calabash containing
the following valuables: the fragment of a maize-cob stripped of all
its grains, a smooth, oval pebble, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, a
few chips of gourd-shell, a bamboo splinter about the length of one’s
hand, a small shell, and a bunch of some herb resembling spinach.
Nothing more. The woman scraped with the
shell a round, shallow hole in the soft, fine
sand of the soil, and, when an active young
girl had filled the calabash with water for her,
she began to knead the clay. As if by magic it
gradually assumed the shape of a rough but
already well-shaped vessel, which only wanted
a little touching up with the instruments
before mentioned. I looked out with the
MAKUA WOMAN closest attention for any indication of the use
MAKING A POT. of the potter’s wheel, in however rudimentary
SHOWS THE a form, but no—hapana (there is none). The
BEGINNINGS OF THE embryo pot stood firmly in its little
POTTER’S WHEEL
depression, and the woman walked round it in
a stooping posture, whether she was removing
small stones or similar foreign bodies with the maize-cob, smoothing
the inner or outer surface with the splinter of bamboo, or later, after
letting it dry for a day, pricking in the ornamentation with a pointed
bit of gourd-shell, or working out the bottom, or cutting the edge
with a sharp bamboo knife, or giving the last touches to the finished
vessel. This occupation of the women is infinitely toilsome, but it is
without doubt an accurate reproduction of the process in use among
our ancestors of the Neolithic and Bronze ages.
There is no doubt that the invention of pottery, an item in human
progress whose importance cannot be over-estimated, is due to
women. Rough, coarse and unfeeling, the men of the horde range
over the countryside. When the united cunning of the hunters has
succeeded in killing the game; not one of them thinks of carrying
home the spoil. A bright fire, kindled by a vigorous wielding of the
drill, is crackling beside them; the animal has been cleaned and cut
up secundum artem, and, after a slight singeing, will soon disappear
under their sharp teeth; no one all this time giving a single thought
to wife or child.
To what shifts, on the other hand, the primitive wife, and still more
the primitive mother, was put! Not even prehistoric stomachs could
endure an unvarying diet of raw food. Something or other suggested
the beneficial effect of hot water on the majority of approved but
indigestible dishes. Perhaps a neighbour had tried holding the hard
roots or tubers over the fire in a calabash filled with water—or maybe
an ostrich-egg-shell, or a hastily improvised vessel of bark. They
became much softer and more palatable than they had previously
been; but, unfortunately, the vessel could not stand the fire and got
charred on the outside. That can be remedied, thought our
ancestress, and plastered a layer of wet clay round a similar vessel.
This is an improvement; the cooking utensil remains uninjured, but
the heat of the fire has shrunk it, so that it is loose in its shell. The
next step is to detach it, so, with a firm grip and a jerk, shell and
kernel are separated, and pottery is invented. Perhaps, however, the
discovery which led to an intelligent use of the burnt-clay shell, was
made in a slightly different way. Ostrich-eggs and calabashes are not
to be found in every part of the world, but everywhere mankind has
arrived at the art of making baskets out of pliant materials, such as
bark, bast, strips of palm-leaf, supple twigs, etc. Our inventor has no
water-tight vessel provided by nature. “Never mind, let us line the
basket with clay.” This answers the purpose, but alas! the basket gets
burnt over the blazing fire, the woman watches the process of
cooking with increasing uneasiness, fearing a leak, but no leak
appears. The food, done to a turn, is eaten with peculiar relish; and
the cooking-vessel is examined, half in curiosity, half in satisfaction
at the result. The plastic clay is now hard as stone, and at the same
time looks exceedingly well, for the neat plaiting of the burnt basket
is traced all over it in a pretty pattern. Thus, simultaneously with
pottery, its ornamentation was invented.
Primitive woman has another claim to respect. It was the man,
roving abroad, who invented the art of producing fire at will, but the
woman, unable to imitate him in this, has been a Vestal from the
earliest times. Nothing gives so much trouble as the keeping alight of
the smouldering brand, and, above all, when all the men are absent
from the camp. Heavy rain-clouds gather, already the first large
drops are falling, the first gusts of the storm rage over the plain. The
little flame, a greater anxiety to the woman than her own children,
flickers unsteadily in the blast. What is to be done? A sudden thought
occurs to her, and in an instant she has constructed a primitive hut
out of strips of bark, to protect the flame against rain and wind.
This, or something very like it, was the way in which the principle
of the house was discovered; and even the most hardened misogynist
cannot fairly refuse a woman the credit of it. The protection of the
hearth-fire from the weather is the germ from which the human
dwelling was evolved. Men had little, if any share, in this forward
step, and that only at a late stage. Even at the present day, the
plastering of the housewall with clay and the manufacture of pottery
are exclusively the women’s business. These are two very significant
survivals. Our European kitchen-garden, too, is originally a woman’s
invention, and the hoe, the primitive instrument of agriculture, is,
characteristically enough, still used in this department. But the
noblest achievement which we owe to the other sex is unquestionably
the art of cookery. Roasting alone—the oldest process—is one for
which men took the hint (a very obvious one) from nature. It must
have been suggested by the scorched carcase of some animal
overtaken by the destructive forest-fires. But boiling—the process of
improving organic substances by the help of water heated to boiling-
point—is a much later discovery. It is so recent that it has not even
yet penetrated to all parts of the world. The Polynesians understand
how to steam food, that is, to cook it, neatly wrapped in leaves, in a
hole in the earth between hot stones, the air being excluded, and
(sometimes) a few drops of water sprinkled on the stones; but they
do not understand boiling.
To come back from this digression, we find that the slender Nyasa
woman has, after once more carefully examining the finished pot,
put it aside in the shade to dry. On the following day she sends me
word by her son, Salim Matola, who is always on hand, that she is
going to do the burning, and, on coming out of my house, I find her
already hard at work. She has spread on the ground a layer of very
dry sticks, about as thick as one’s thumb, has laid the pot (now of a
yellowish-grey colour) on them, and is piling brushwood round it.
My faithful Pesa mbili, the mnyampara, who has been standing by,
most obligingly, with a lighted stick, now hands it to her. Both of
them, blowing steadily, light the pile on the lee side, and, when the
flame begins to catch, on the weather side also. Soon the whole is in a
blaze, but the dry fuel is quickly consumed and the fire dies down, so
that we see the red-hot vessel rising from the ashes. The woman
turns it continually with a long stick, sometimes one way and
sometimes another, so that it may be evenly heated all over. In
twenty minutes she rolls it out of the ash-heap, takes up the bundle
of spinach, which has been lying for two days in a jar of water, and
sprinkles the red-hot clay with it. The places where the drops fall are
marked by black spots on the uniform reddish-brown surface. With a
sigh of relief, and with visible satisfaction, the woman rises to an
erect position; she is standing just in a line between me and the fire,
from which a cloud of smoke is just rising: I press the ball of my
camera, the shutter clicks—the apotheosis is achieved! Like a
priestess, representative of her inventive sex, the graceful woman
stands: at her feet the hearth-fire she has given us beside her the
invention she has devised for us, in the background the home she has
built for us.
At Newala, also, I have had the manufacture of pottery carried on
in my presence. Technically the process is better than that already
described, for here we find the beginnings of the potter’s wheel,
which does not seem to exist in the plains; at least I have seen
nothing of the sort. The artist, a frightfully stupid Makua woman, did
not make a depression in the ground to receive the pot she was about
to shape, but used instead a large potsherd. Otherwise, she went to
work in much the same way as Salim’s mother, except that she saved
herself the trouble of walking round and round her work by squatting
at her ease and letting the pot and potsherd rotate round her; this is
surely the first step towards a machine. But it does not follow that
the pot was improved by the process. It is true that it was beautifully
rounded and presented a very creditable appearance when finished,
but the numerous large and small vessels which I have seen, and, in
part, collected, in the “less advanced” districts, are no less so. We
moderns imagine that instruments of precision are necessary to
produce excellent results. Go to the prehistoric collections of our
museums and look at the pots, urns and bowls of our ancestors in the
dim ages of the past, and you will at once perceive your error.
MAKING LONGITUDINAL CUT IN
BARK
DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG
REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

BEATING THE BARK
WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

SOFT
MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

To-day, nearly the whole population of German East Africa is
clothed in imported calico. This was not always the case; even now in
some parts of the north dressed skins are still the prevailing wear,
and in the north-western districts—east and north of Lake
Tanganyika—lies a zone where bark-cloth has not yet been
superseded. Probably not many generations have passed since such
bark fabrics and kilts of skins were the only clothing even in the
south. Even to-day, large quantities of this bright-red or drab
material are still to be found; but if we wish to see it, we must look in
the granaries and on the drying stages inside the native huts, where
it serves less ambitious uses as wrappings for those seeds and fruits
which require to be packed with special care. The salt produced at
Masasi, too, is packed for transport to a distance in large sheets of
bark-cloth. Wherever I found it in any degree possible, I studied the
process of making this cloth. The native requisitioned for the
purpose arrived, carrying a log between two and three yards long and
as thick as his thigh, and nothing else except a curiously-shaped
mallet and the usual long, sharp and pointed knife which all men and
boys wear in a belt at their backs without a sheath—horribile dictu!
[51]
Silently he squats down before me, and with two rapid cuts has
drawn a couple of circles round the log some two yards apart, and
slits the bark lengthwise between them with the point of his knife.
With evident care, he then scrapes off the outer rind all round the
log, so that in a quarter of an hour the inner red layer of the bark
shows up brightly-coloured between the two untouched ends. With
some trouble and much caution, he now loosens the bark at one end,
and opens the cylinder. He then stands up, takes hold of the free
edge with both hands, and turning it inside out, slowly but steadily
pulls it off in one piece. Now comes the troublesome work of
scraping all superfluous particles of outer bark from the outside of
the long, narrow piece of material, while the inner side is carefully
scrutinised for defective spots. At last it is ready for beating. Having
signalled to a friend, who immediately places a bowl of water beside
him, the artificer damps his sheet of bark all over, seizes his mallet,
lays one end of the stuff on the smoothest spot of the log, and
hammers away slowly but continuously. “Very simple!” I think to
myself. “Why, I could do that, too!”—but I am forced to change my
opinions a little later on; for the beating is quite an art, if the fabric is
not to be beaten to pieces. To prevent the breaking of the fibres, the
stuff is several times folded across, so as to interpose several
thicknesses between the mallet and the block. At last the required
state is reached, and the fundi seizes the sheet, still folded, by both
ends, and wrings it out, or calls an assistant to take one end while he
holds the other. The cloth produced in this way is not nearly so fine
and uniform in texture as the famous Uganda bark-cloth, but it is
quite soft, and, above all, cheap.
Now, too, I examine the mallet. My craftsman has been using the
simpler but better form of this implement, a conical block of some
hard wood, its base—the striking surface—being scored across and
across with more or less deeply-cut grooves, and the handle stuck
into a hole in the middle. The other and earlier form of mallet is
shaped in the same way, but the head is fastened by an ingenious
network of bark strips into the split bamboo serving as a handle. The
observation so often made, that ancient customs persist longest in
connection with religious ceremonies and in the life of children, here
finds confirmation. As we shall soon see, bark-cloth is still worn
during the unyago,[52] having been prepared with special solemn
ceremonies; and many a mother, if she has no other garment handy,
will still put her little one into a kilt of bark-cloth, which, after all,
looks better, besides being more in keeping with its African
surroundings, than the ridiculous bit of print from Ulaya.
MAKUA WOMEN

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Global Problems: The Search for

Equity, Peace, and Sustainability 3rd

INTRODUCTION The Global Century 1

CHAPTER 1 Class: A World of Rich and Poor 15

CHAPTER 2 Work and Trade: The Global Assembly Line 42

The New Frontier: From Hudson’s Bay to

Made by Small Hands 54

Ordering the World Market 61

Trade That is Fair for All 65

FOR REVIEW AND DISCUSSION 67

CHAPTER 3 Gender and Family: Overburdened Women

Nietzsche Undone: From Superman to Supermom 72

Locked In and Shut Out 80

Global Family Changes 83

Half the Sky 89

FOR REVIEW AND DISCUSSION 92

CHAPTER 4 Education: Access and Success 94

Opening Doors, Opening Minds 110

KEY IDEAS 118

FOR REVIEW AND DISCUSSION 119

MAKING CONNECTIONS 119

MAKING A DIFFERENCE 120

CHAPTER 5 Crime: Fear in the Streets 123

Incarceration around the World 138

In Search of Opportunity and Order 143

FOR REVIEW AND DISCUSSION 144

MAKING CONNECTIONS 145

MAKING A DIFFERENCE 145

CHAPTER 6 War: States of Terror 146

How States Made War and War Made States 148

From World War to Regional Conflict 158

Military Expenditures 168

FOR REVIEW AND DISCUSSION 172

MAKING CONNECTIONS 172

MAKING A DIFFERENCE 172

CHAPTER 7 Democracy and Human Rights: Having

“Dirty Wars”: When Democracy Degenerates 190

The Right to Be Fully Human 193

FOR REVIEW AND DISCUSSION 197

MAKING CONNECTIONS 197

MAKING A DIFFERENCE 197

CHAPTER 8 Ethnicity and Religion: Deep Roots

Ethnicity, Religion, and Power 209

Identity and International Terrorism 214

Alternatives to Terror 217

KEY IDEAS 220

FOR REVIEW AND DISCUSSION 221

MAKING CONNECTIONS 221

MAKING A DIFFERENCE 222

CHAPTER 9 Urbanization: Cities without Limits 226

World Cities 233

Cities as Dynamos: Central Places and Hyperurbanization 241

The Shape of the City 245

Seeking Livable Cities 252

KEY IDEAS 254

FOR REVIEW AND DISCUSSION 254

MAKING CONNECTIONS 254

MAKING A DIFFERENCE 255

CHAPTER 10 Population and Health: Only the Poor

Population Control 270

Health Care Reform 283

Living Well, Staying Well 287

KEY IDEAS 288