This 2021 ASA Presidential Lecture combines sociopolitical history with personal reflections on Black Harlem during African decolonization. It begins at the turn of the twentieth century and traces Harlem’s transformation into an international center of pan-Africanist activism and cultural production. Brown explores solidarities that grew as Harlem politicians, grassroots leaders, and residents encountered political exiles and cultural leaders from the continent, the diaspora, and aligned political movements worldwide. These alliances and modes of protest facilitated a hardening of militant activist traditions and cultural cohesion that shaped an anti-imperialist pan-African movement and ultimately a multinational Black political movement in the 1960’s to 1990s.

In April 2014, Boko Haram kidnapped almost three hundred girls attending school in Chibok, Nigeria. The #BringBackOurGirls campaign emerged as a global activist movement in the aftermath of that kidnapping. Onah’s article analyzes the global mediascapes of the campaign to show the mnemonic affordances of the Chibok girls’ kidnapping and the intermedial dynamics that coalesced to make it a global memory phenomenon. By foregrounding the transhistorical and intermedial connections at the core of the #BringBackOurGirls campaign, it consolidates the understanding of remediation in memory studies. Consequently, Onah proposes new ways to understand African memorial traditions and testimonial practices in an increasingly hyperconnected world.

Drawing on their own field studies, the authors examine how state and local actors involved in resource management and peacebuilding activities are implicated in the conflict between farmers and herders in Plateau State, Nigeria, and Central Darfur State, Sudan. The authors show that state officials, traditional chiefs, and security agents intensified the conflict by perpetuating the inequitable distribution of resources needed for the survival of farmers and herders, while promoting a peacebuilding process that empowered some groups and disempowered others. The divisive role state and local actors played accentuated the socio-political grievances underlying the conflict and enervated the peacebuilding process.

Sabina Yuhas (@Overszabi) and Juliana Belova (@juliewanderz or Oyibo Marlian) are Hungarian and Russian women, respectively, who are fascinated by Nigerian popular culture. Despite their successes in exploiting Black culture to attain wealth and fame in the Nigerian mediasphere, their works have hardly been studied. Close readings and nuanced analyses of their selected TikTok skits show a multiplicity of images that are neither fully European nor Nigerian—equivocal identities—mediating Otherness. However, the longstanding power asymmetries between Africa and Europe characterize their enactments as commodification of Blackness, accounting for why Nigerians who perform “Europeanness” do not attain corresponding success.

Post-cessation nationhood in South Sudan presented a paradoxical situation: a country united during struggle is fragmented after independence. Among the triggers for this scenario was the death of Dr John Garang de Mabior—the country’s founding father. This article is a multidisciplinary semiotic critique of Akuol de Mabior’s film, No Simple Way Home (2023), against the history of South Sudanese nationhood. Without claiming a political scientific analysis, the author proposes that South Sudan’s crisis of nationhood is symptomatic of a quest for a unifying icon. He theorizes the protagonist’s quintessence of motherhood as a semiotic gesture of her de jure iconicity of unified nationhood.

Scholars have emphasized the importance and autonomy of African intermediaries in European imperial projects. However, intermediaries have not been studied as founders of (proto) colonial administrations. Between 1840 and 1874, the inchoate British establishment on the Gold Coast was largely a project of Anglo-African merchants, rooted in their political visions of “progress.” Merchants like James Bannerman provided infrastructure, institutions, and material form to the administration and intended it as a force for development. Ultimately, the British administration exercised its hegemony through Euro-African infrastructures, spaces, and ideas. Consequently, merchants like Bannerman undermined their local networks, rulers, and dependents who opposed British domination.

Collaborative autoethnography can function as a means of reclaiming certain African realities that have been co-opted by colonial epistemes and language. This can be significant in very concrete ways: northern Uganda is suffering a catastrophic loss of tree cover, much of which is taking place on the collective family landholdings that academia and the development sector have categorized as “customary land.” A collaboration by ten members of such landholding families, known as the Acholi Land Lab, explores what “customary ownership” means to them and their relatives, with a view to understanding what may be involved in promoting sustainable domestic use of natural resources, including trees.

The empire-building phase of the European powers in Africa, which spanned several centuries, had its climax at the infamous Berlin Conference of 1884–1885, where the colonizers carved up and allocated the African continent among themselves as their respective colonial projects. They would subsequently invade virtually all of the continent based on this arbitrary partitioning—which, among other things, created Africa’s colonial condition. Mention must be made of the fact that uncountable numbers of artworks and artefacts were looted by the invaders from various parts of Africa during those invasions and the de facto occupations that ensued. These looted treasures were scattered all over Europe and elsewhere in museums and private collections, where they currently remain largely unaccounted for.

The emergence of African philosophy as a systematic field of inquiry can be traced to the trailblazing work of a few figures. Paulin Hountondji occupies a special place among these trailblazers. A true exemplar of the field, Hountondji’s work is neither limited by the linguistically circumscribed mapping of African philosophy nor the dichotomies and quarrels arising from methodological and stylistic difference in doing philosophy. I reiterate the crucial challenge he poses to current and future generations of scholars by reflecting on his approach to philosophy and the critical insights he offers on fundamental questions about the nature, conditions and fate of freedom in Africa.

Paulin Hountondji is an essential figure in the literary and philosophical world of Africa. Rereading The Struggle for Meaning: Reflections on Philosophy, Culture, and Democracy in Africa allowed me to rediscover a man whose theoretical work is indissociable from action. Conscious of the dangers of sterile speculation and above all passionate about improving Africans’ conditions of existence, Hountondji develops a way of thinking that leads to action. My reflection foregrounds the priorities of a philosopher whose ultimate aim is human flourishing and the coming of freedom to the continent.

In this brief memoriam, I argue that Hountondji’s methodological concern over the possibility of African philosophy led him to query the very idea of philosophy as the search for universal knowledge. Hountondji’s lasting legacy thus consists, among other things, in challenging the image of Western philosophy as the repository of universal knowledge. To the contrary, philosophy will come into its own only through the critical construction of culturally and politically unrestricted discourse from different philosophical traditions.

These reflections look back on Paulin Hountondji’s mentorship, and how he helped a comparatist to bridge Latin American (and Latinx) studies with African studies during fieldwork in Benin.