The DIGICOLJUST-2 team and the archivists of INACO have joined forces for a mission aiming to catalogue and ensure the preservation of an important collection of 11.335 personal files of Force Publique soldiers held in the DR Congo National Archives. This pilot project has benefited from a funding from the British Library, via the Endangered Archives Programme (EAP). EAP finances the cataloguing and preservation of vulnerable collections of historical documents, and contributes to the valuation of precious sources which often carry marginalized, subaltern and silenced voices. The present mission was an immediate follow-up to the visit of an INACO delegation to the State Archives of Brussels a few weeks prior.
Picture of the INACO/DIGICOLJUST-2 teams in front of the INACO building, 13 December 2024
In the timespan of a short week, the INACO and DIGICOLJUST-2 teams have worked together to achieve three objectives. First, to obtain a complete overview of the sources at hand. Second, to start the process of cataloguing ten percent of this collection in the form of a systematic spreadsheet. And third, to guarantee the long-term conservation of this precious archival legacy by repackaging the collection in acid-free boxes.
With the help of head archivist Albert Kulinde, the team was able to effectively assess the scope of the collection, and to adjust its work plan accordingly. In order to efficiently proceed with the cataloguing, Congolese and Belgian partners teamed up to fill spreadsheets that contained the essential information pertaining to each individual dossier (name of the file, name of the soldier, service number, year of enrollment, and general remarks regarding the file’s content). We were only able to effectively pursue this task thanks to the prior existence of an excellent paper inventory of the collection assembled by INACO archivists. By the end of the week, around 3512 files were effectively included in the new database, which amounts to more than 30% of the entire collection. This spreadsheet is being completed by INACO archivists, and will ensure a direct and efficient access to the collection to researchers, students and citizens.
Collaborative cataloguing
Furthermore, the EAP grant allowed us to purchase and ship to Kinshasa essential archival material. Due to unforeseen circumstances, the protective containers that we brought along only reached INACO on the next to last day of the mission. Once again, only the smooth and intensive collaboration of all the involved parties allowed for the repackaging of hundred boxes – amounting to 26% of the archival series – in the span of a few hours.
26% of the collection has been repackaged in acid-free cardboard boxes
Although the mission only lasted for a week, it led to several promising outcomes, and opened the door to future synergies between Congolese and Belgian scientific institutions. First, it contributed to strengthening the bounds between INACO, the SAB, ULB and VUB. Second, it improved the access and preservation of an important archival collection, which will be crucial for future research on the Force Publique and its court-martials. Third, it allow for the exchange of skills and knowledge between all the parties involved. We look forward to further collaborating with INACO, both within and beyond the scope of DIGICOLJUST-2.
We are happy to announce that the article “Archives of Military Courts in Colonial Congo: New Sources for the History of Violence and Agency in Central Africa” has just been published in History in Africa. In this open access paper, Benoît Henriet, Amandine Lauro and Renaud Juste detail the history of the Conseils de Guerre‘s records, their ongoing digitization, and their rich epistemic potential. They use specific judicial cases to show how these archives can bring new insights into the history of violence and African agency in the Belgian empire.
On 31 May, Benoît Henriet was at the 9th European Conference on African Studies in Cologne to present a chapter that he is currently writing with Renaud Juste. This work in progress is extensively based on the archives of the Conseils de Guerre, and shed light on their epistemic potential in the study of revolt and indigenous agency in colonial Congo.
A vignette taken out of theproceedings of the Conseils de Guerre of the Kwango in 1931, used as introduction to the presentation.
In this paper, Henriet and Juste attempt to shed light on how the 1931 Kwango revolt both exposed and reconfigured social hierarchies and collective solidarities in Southwest Belgian Congo. The murder and dismemberment of Belgian public servant Maximilien Balot by a group of Congolese adepts of the Tupelepele millenarian movement on 31 May 1931, marked the highest point of the long-broiling discontent of local communities against their social, economic and political standing. In response to this unprecedented event, the colonial authorities put an extensive region under a state of emergency, in order to quell the allegedly fast-spreading rebellion. In this legal state of exception, which lasted between June and September 1931, civilian courts were replaced by court-martials, which were in charge of pursuing those believed to be the adepts and leaders of the movement.
The proceedings of these courts, which have never been used by historians until today, shed light on the profound transformations of the flows of power, hierarchies and solidarity entailed by the ongoing revolt. For instance, both menial objects and symbolically charged body parts garnered new meanings, values and uses. Henriet and Juste endeavour to investigate how everyday objects such as trunks, administrative documents and handkerchiefs, as well as the body parts of Balot, were enmeshed in new discursive frameworks, new value scales, and were given new meanings. As highlighted in the vignette they used in the presentation’s introduction, the parallel uses and distribution of human remains and fiscal tokens sketch out the contours of a transgressive economy, which help us better understand what revolting meant for the involved parties. In a time of uncertainty, new frameworks were devised for power in its many forms to flow in new directions, which are made visible in the mobilisation of these items in new transactional arrangements.
We want to thank again DIGICOLJUST team members and job students who worked tirelessly to achieve this goal, as well as to the State Archives of Belgium who both actively supported and participated to this endeavour.
We hope that the online availability of these documents will lead to fruitful and exciting research prospects.
This article closes our 2022 "Stories from the archives" series. After several blogposts written by BA students in History of the Université libre de Bruxelles and of the Vrije Universiteit Brussel, we give the floor to Renaud Juste, scientific collaborator on the DIGICOLJUST project.
After rummaging for several hours in colonial court-martial records, one file caught my attention. By then, I was used to manipulate archives of a grossly similar shape and thickness, until something distorted the pace of my research. A rigid and rectangular object was wedged between the pages of the file that I held in my hands. When I opened it, I came across a black rectangle delicately wrapped in silk paper. It was a wallet made of stiff black cardboard with a lining of red paper, on which four small pictures were glued.
This object gave me the impression of touching history with my own fingers: I was holding a “piece of evidence”. Historians working on the colonial era yearn to find “fragments” of colonized experiences held in colonial archives[1]. And there I was, handling a material “fragment” crafted by a Congolese soldier. Admittedly, this “fragment” was preserved in a file compiled for the purpose of a colonial trial, archived and classified by a colonial structure, wrapped in silk paper by a colonial public servant, but it nevertheless connected me to a long-forgotten episode of fraud, dashed hopes and alleged witchcraft. What could this object tell us about the tensions and dynamics of military life in 1951 Belgian Congo?
The “magic booklet”, carefully wrapped up in silk paper. All pictures: AGR 2: AA, CG Boma (770), 1951.
The story beyond the cardboard wallet is relatively straightforward. Private François M. stands accused of swindling a boy carpenter named Zuao B. with a so-called carnet de magie – “the” cardboard wallet. According to the investigators, while François M. was already imprisoned in Boma for theft, he made Zuao B. believe that he had the power to create money. He asked Zuao B. for 20 francs, cut out a piece of newspaper in the shape of a bank note and inserted it in his “magic booklet”, out of which he managed to pull another 20 francs. An impressed Zuao B. then gave 100 francs to François M.. The latter declared that he would create more money on the next day. Ultimately, François never returned the 100 francs to Zuao B., and failed to ever produce more cash. After having unsuccessfully asked François M. to get his money back for several days in a row, an angry Zuao B. filed a complaint to the Conseil de Guerre.
The name used to label François M.’ “scamming tool” is interesting. Indeed, the incriminated object is defined as a carnet de magie when recorded as evidence. However, the plaintiff, the accused, and the investigator alternately used the terms porte carte, porte carte truqué, étui or porte billet. In front of the court, François M. rather spoke of a portefeuille he made in prison because his own wallet was seized when he was arrested. Each party thus used different labels to describe the same object.
In his conclusions, the judge stated that François M. “was given by the named Zuao B. (…), a sum of 120 francs by using fraudulent manoeuvres to persuade him that he held an imaginary power […] to make money.” In addition, the judge “ordered the confiscation of the carnet magique”. However, neither Zuao B. nor François M. insisted on the wallet’s “power” or used the term “magic” during their interrogations. Zuao B. simply declared that it is by putting a piece of paper in the porte-carte that François M. produced another bill. François M. flatly denied the whole affair and declared the so-called carnet to be a simple wallet intended for personal use.
According to the available sources, it seems that the judge and the police commissioner were the ones insisting on the “magical” nature of the notebook, and on François’ “imaginary power to make money”. It is impossible to say with certainty whether Zuao B. believed in the wallet’s “magic”, or if François M. even claimed to have magical powers. The judge nevertheless interpreted the case as a matter of indigenous credulity and “naïve” belief in magic. This story therefore tells us more about how colonial actors brought their own visions of African “otherness” into judicial handlings, without paying much attention to the perspectives and claims of the involved parties.
The “magic booklet” is an uncommon archive, imbued with a strong symbolic charge by François M. Unfortunately, he did not explain how and why he chose to craft it as such, leaving us only able to speculate. The wallet’s lining has two flaps, each adorned with its own set of two images: two Europeans in suits on the top, and three soldiers on the bottom. The quality and size of the photograph does not make it possible to determine the soldiers’ origins, but I assume them to be Congolese. Indeed, their uniforms and berets seem to be those of the Force Publique.
The unfolded “magic booklet”.
What was the relation between the wallet’s display and its alleged power? Photographs from the colonial period were often staged as to reflect unequal, hierarchical relationships. The framing, the composition, the camera angle, the subject of these images are revelatory of the way colonial actors perceived and wished to display the colonial order. The “magic booklet” seems to follow the same rules, by putting Europeans “above” Africans. The wallet’s display appears to reflect how François M. experienced and envisioned colonial power relations.
If we look further at these images, we see that these photos are imbued with colonial aesthetics. Although they are small, we can clearly distinguish the features of two white men in suits photographed in a slightly low angle. The soldiers are photographed from a distance, making it difficult to identify them. The choice of François M. to place these photos on a vertical axis leaves little room for interpretation. He seems to represent the racial hierarchy and colonial domination by positioning each one in the place that colonization envisioned for them. This display makes sense, if one thinks that the wallet supposedly offered prosperity to its owner. From subservience, represented by the soldiers, we rise to power represented by the white men in suits. One cannot say that François M. simply assimilated colonial relations of domination and flatly reproduced them in the wallet’s lining. Rather, he seems to highlight racist oppression by associating positive qualities with the image of the whites above and negative qualities with the image of the soldiers below.
The two photographs on the first flap, and the newspaper clipping.
The two photographs on the second flap.
As I close the “magic booklet” and put away this fragment crafted by Private François M., I feel that I have only scratched the surface of the questions surrounding the materiality of this archive. As an object, the booklet deserves to be investigated further. But this story allowed me to document how colonial actors brought their own visions of African ‘otherness’ into the judicial handlings, especially when it comes to formulating racist fantasies around magic. Finally, the crafting of the “magic booklet” gives an insight into the mentality or representations that a 1950s soldier of the Force publique had of the colonial order.
*Renaud Juste has been working for DIGICOLJUST since February 2022. This blogpost has been edited by Benoît Henriet.
[1] Pandey Gyanendra offers a reflection on these « voices from the edge » and on the debate around them (Pandey Gyanendra ,”Voices from the edge: The struggle to write subaltern histories.” Ethnos 60.3-4 (1995), 223-242) ; Ann Laura Stoler provides a nuanced take on the content and form of the colonial archive as a device of colonial governance (Ann Laura Stoler, Along the Archival Grain. Epistemic, anxieties and colonial common sense (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009) ).
During the summer, Amandine Lauro and Benoît Henriet had the opportunity to present DIGICOLJUST at two international academic events. On 30 July, Amandine Lauro participated to the symposium Military Justice in the Modern Era, 1850-1945 at the Freie Universität Berlin. It allowed her to exchange views with scholars active in the field of military and law history. On 12 September, both Lauro and Henriet participated to the Congo Research Network Conference hosted by the Universita Degli Studi di Milano. There, they could talk about the relevance of court-martial records for Africanists scholars beyond the study of the colonial past.
This article is part of a series of blogposts produced by BA students in History of the Université libre de Bruxelles and of the Vrije Universiteit Brussel, under the guidance of their professors and DIGICOLJUST co-promotors Benoît Henriet and Amandine Lauro. In the academic year 2021-2022, approximately 80 students from the ULB & VUB have been working on selected court-cases from the military courts of colonial Congo in parallel research seminars. In addition to their research papers, students were asked to prepare a text aiming at a larger audience; this series is the result of a selection of their best achievements.
Je hoeft geen opstand of staking te organiseren om in verzet te komen. Ook alledaagse acties die eerder onder de radar plaatsvinden, kunnen een grote impact hebben. ‘Everyday resistance’ (alledaags verzet) is de term die politicoloog en antropoloog James Scott hiervoor hanteert.[1] In mijn onderzoek probeerde ik desertie van Congolese soldaten te benaderen als een vorm van alledaags verzet. Op die manier trachtte ik te begrijpen hoe de Congolese volkeren omgingen met de repressie van het koloniale regime en hoe zij zich hiertegen verzetten.
Een analyse van dertien rechtsprocessen van deserteurs uit de Force Publique stond me toe hier dieper op in te gaan. Congolese soldaten werden immers meestal onder dwang gerekruteerd.[2] Ze werden met andere woorden ingezet om een systeem in stand te houden waar ze zelf het slachtoffer van waren. In de kampen kregen ze bijgevolg dagelijks te maken met het racisme en de onderdrukking die inherent verbonden waren met het koloniaal systeem. Dit leidde ertoe dat verschillende soldaten deserteerden.
Onzichtbaar verzet
Op het eerste zicht lijkt deserteren misschien een actie uit eigenbelang zonder verdere relevantie, maar toch kon het op verschillende manieren bijdragen aan het verzet tegen de koloniale machten. Alledaags verzet kan immers een grote rol spelen net door zijn onzichtbaarheid. Hierdoor is het verzet moeilijk te detecteren en ook moeilijker te controleren. Kleine acties kunnen op die manier zeer onopvallend druk uitoefenen op heersende systemenDoordat er – al dan niet uit eigenbelang – ingegaan wordt tegen bepaalde principes en systemen, wordt mogelijk bewustwording gecreëerd. Op die manier kan alledaags verzet anderen aanzetten tot actie en grotere bewegingen in gang zetten. De kracht van alledaags verzet zit met andere woorden in het feit dat het onophoudelijk gebeurt en door zijn subtiliteit moeilijk te onderdrukken is.
Ook in Koloniaal Congo konden Congolezen het systeem voortdurend onder druk zetten door in verschillende domeinen van de samenleving het systeem tegen te werken. Zo kon ook desertie bijdragen aan anti-koloniaal verzet. De Force Publique was in dit kader een belangrijke instelling in het behoud van de koloniale macht. Wanneer soldaten in grote mate zouden deserteren, kon dit met andere woorden ook de controle over de gekoloniseerde gebieden verzwakken.
In die zin kan desertie hebben bijgedragen aan het verzet. Een vraag die we ons daarbij kunnen stellen is of daar ook bewuste intenties van verzet of anti- koloniale beweegredenen achter scholen? De motieven van de soldaten die ik bestudeerde, kunnen onderverdeeld worden in vier categorieën. Sommigen gaven aan dat ze het kamp hadden verlaten omdat ze simpelweg geen soldaat wilden zijn, maar daartoe waren gedwongen. Een andere groep gaf aan dat ze om persoonlijke redenen het kamp ontvlucht waren. Dit waren twee soldaten die hun vrouw of minnares achterna gingen nadat zij het kamp verlieten.
Het merendeel van de soldaten ontvluchtte het kamp evenwel om te ontsnappen aan de onmenselijke omstandigheden in de Force Publique. Het zware werk en het tekort aan goede verzorging en voedsel in de kampen had sommige soldaten uitgeput.Anderen deserteerden door de vele en pijnlijke bestraffingen die hen bij elke kleine vorm van ongehoorzaamheid werden toegediend. Eén van de soldaten beschrijft dit als volgt : ‘‘J’ai pris une 2ème fois la fuite parce que je recevais beaucoup de fouet et je me disais que si je restais je mourrais, j’avais déjà été à l’hopital et ne suis pas guéri.’’[3] De ondervragingen van de deserteurs die ik bestudeerde, geven geen blijk van anti -koloniale beweegreden. Dit betekent echter niet dat die acties van desertie geen betekenis hadden in het verzet tegen de koloniale repressie. Door het kamp te verlaten, konden de soldaten namelijk ontsnappen aan de onmenselijke omstandigheden in de Force Publique en zo onbewust het koloniale systeem in vraag stellen. Onderzoekers Vinthagen en Johansson stellen dat het belangrijk is om ook acties die niet politiek gemotiveerd werden, mee te rekenen in het begrip ‘verzet’ omdat anders een groot deel van de onderdrukten wordt uitgesloten omwille van het feit dat zij niet politiek waren opgeleid.[4]
Controleverlies
Over het algemeen heerste er in koloniaal Congo een grote angst voor het verlies van controle.[5] Dit leidde tot een strenge omgang met ongehoorzaamheid. Dit zien we ook terug in de wetgeving over desertie. De soldaten die ik bestudeerde, werden allemaal veroordeeld voor simpele desertie. Dit viel onder de categorie des fautes militaires graves. Je kon hiervoor tot maximaal vijf jaar dwangarbeid en een boete van 1.000 frank worden veroordeeld.[6]Ook in de strafbladen van de deserteurs vinden we die focus op disciplinering terug. Ze werden afgeranseld met de fouet of opgesloten in het cachot voor kleinigheden als het verliezen van kledij. Die angst voor ongehoorzaamheid toont ook het effect dat die acties van alledaags verzet als desertie hadden op de koloniale orde.
Desertie was voor sommige soldaten duidelijk een manier om de moeilijke levensomstandigheden in de legerkampen van de Force Publique te ontlopen. Hiermee wilden ze misschien niet doelbewust het koloniaal regime saboteren, maar ze maakten deel uit van een grote verscheidenheid aan acties van alledaags verzet die samen druk legden op de koloniale instanties. Dit veroorzaakte dan ook ongerustheid bij de kolonialen. Zorgen over controleverlies leidden ertoe dat de koloniale instanties ongehoorzaamheid streng bestraften. Met dit onderzoek gaf ik een aanzet tot verder onderzoek naar alledaags verzet in Congo. Dit onderzoek staat ons toe beter te begrijpen hoe de Congolezen reageerden op hun onderdrukking en op welke manieren ze zich hiertegen konden verzetten.
*Hanna Martens is studente geschiedenis aan de Vrije Universiteit Brussel. Deze blogpost werd bewerkt door Ellen Debackere en Benoît Henriet.
[1] Scott, James, ‘Everyday Forms of Resistance’, Copenhagen Papers, 4, 1989, pp. 33-62.
[2] Lauro, Amandine & Henriet, Benoît, ‘Repressie: was Congo na Leopold II een minder gewelddadige kolonie’, in: Goddeeris, Idesbald, Lauro, Amandine & Vanthemsche, Guy, Koloniaal Congo: een geschiedenis in vragen, Kalmthout: Polis, 2020, p. 213.
[3] ARA2, AA, ConseARA2, MiniCol, Conseil de Guerre de Stanleyville Stanleyville, n°92 : rôle 339 (jugement du 17 janvier 1927), f. 5v.il de Guerre d’Appel: Stanleyville: n° 0/ numéro d’inv. 92/ série 339, f. 5v.
[4] Vinthagen, Stellan & Johansson, Anna, ‘Everyday Resistance: Exploration of a Concept and its Theories’, Resistance Studies, 1, 2013, pp. 20 -21.
[5] Lauro, Amandine, ‘Maintenir l’ordre dans la colonie-modèle. Notes sur les désordres urbains et la police des frontières raciales au Congo belge’, Crime, Histoire & Société, 15:2, 2011, p. 97.
[6] Article 21 du décret du 22 -12-1888 in: Bulletin Officiel de l’Etat Indépendant de Congo n° 1, 1889, pp. 18-19.
The “Journées de l’Histoire. Re-penser l’enseignement de l’histoire du continent africain et de la RDC” took place at the Cercle Elaïs in Kinshasa. The event was organized by the NGO Coopération Éducation Culture (CEC),the University of Kinshasa (UNKIN) and the Free University of Brussels (ULB), with the support of ARES & other partners.
Two of DIGICOLJUST’s promotors, Benoît Henriet (VUB) and Amandine Lauro (ULB) were in Kinshasa between 28 October and 3 November to present the project and discuss its uses and relevance with the community of Congolese archivists and historians.
Presenting DIGICOLJUST at the “Journées de l’Histoire”, 29 October 2021.
Henriet and Lauro first presented DIGICOLJUST at the Journées de l’Histoire, a two-day symposium on the challenges and opportunities of history teaching in the DRC. During this event, Congolese and foreign scholars exchanged views with secondary school teachers, activists, journalists and politicians, including Caroline Désir, Education minister of the Fédération Wallonie-Bruxelles. You can find an enthusiastic review of the Journées de l’Histoire and of our project under the pen of Congo-expert Colette Braeckman in Le Soir.
Colette Braeckman in Le Soir, 2 November 2021.
DIGICOLJUST’s promotors then also met extensively with the project’s Congolese partners, including Jean-Bedel Iyoka, general-director of the National Archives (INACO) and historians Christian Chiza (ISP Bukavu), Kiangu Sindani (UNIKIN) and Donatien Dibwe dia Mwembu (UNILU). The digitization of the Conseils du Guerre’s archives is a fantastic chance to deploy new research synergies between Congo and Belgium based on this shared archival heritage, and to provide Congolese students with primary sources they could mobilise for their undergraduate and graduate thesis.
The Institut National des Archives du Congo (INACO) in Kinshasa.
Many possibilities for further collaboration were sketched out during those meetings. Prof. Dibwe for instance mentioned that those archives could be used not only by historians, but also by criminologists. Jean-Bedel Iyoka suggested potential future research projects using both the Conseils de Guerre and archives of the Force Publique held in Kinshasa. Furthermore, the digitized records of colonial martial courts could serve to broaden the scope of primary sources available for history students in Kinshasa and beyond.
More about these exciting opportunities in the months to come!