Introduction: Ransoming Practices in Africa: Past and Present

The expectation of ransom, and therefore the study of ransoming, highlights the relationship between captivity, enslavement, and slavery. All societies had norms regarding who could be legally, and therefore who was illegally, taken captive and enslaved. They also had a desire to protect from captivity and enslavement individuals they considered to be “insiders;” whether that status was based on citizenship, ethnicity, religion, or racial identity. To avoid captivity, which often led to enslavement, Africans and Europeans utilized a myriad of defensive, protective, and offensive strategies including, if they had the means to do so, ransoming captives prior to their enslavement or execution. The holding of individuals for ransom was and continues to be a political and economic act that occurs in a variety of contexts. In the Mediterranean basin until the early nineteenth century, it was a facet of the economic competition and exchange between Christian Europe and Muslim North Africa where religious identity was entwined with conceptions of political belonging. Prisoners taken from ships in the Mediterranean and even during raids on shore were held for ransom, with the threat of enslavement and continued servitude if not liberated. The Maghrib is the most commonly known African region for ransoming activities, yet, ransoming also took place between African states and between Africans and Europeans south of the Sahara. As with their European counterparts, African states sought to regulate captivity and the resultant ransoming, enslavement, free-release or execution of captives and to prevent the negative repercussions of what they considered to be illegal captivity while facilitating legal captivity and its aftermath. In general, Africans accepted the legitimacy of captivity and resultant ransoming or enslavement through legal, state-sponsored warfare but viewed captivity through kidnapping and banditry as illegal, especially when targeted against members of the same community or their allies. Worldwide, in more recent times, children have been kidnapped and held for ransom, and sometimes wealthy individuals are targeted for financial gain. Still in other cases, individuals are held for political reasons such as western captives held by the Islamic State of Iraq and Levant (ISIS) or al-Qaeda in the Maghrib (AQIM), or for financial gain, as in the case of pirates operating in the Red Sea and western Indian Ocean. Historically, captives who failed to be ransomed were usually enslaved, however, the more likely outcome for contemporary failed ransom negotiations is the execution of the captive.

The study of ransoming offers glimpses into debates about the rationalization and morality of captivity and slavery. People had a vested interested in preventing what they viewed as illegal captivity and enslavement. Enslavement involved the rupturing of ties between captives and their homelands and their insertion into new societies as slaves or in most recent times to be held prisoner indefinitely until they escape or are ransomed, rescued, or killed. In contrast, the ransoming of prisoners involves relying on and cementing the bonds between captives and their families, friends and allies and the re-integration of the captive into their home society. Membership in a “community” whether that be based on notions of citizenship, religious or ethnic identity conferred certain benefits such as access to ransoming when taken captive.

This special issue is focused on the practices of ransoming in Africa in both the historical and contemporary periods; the formation, exploitation and alteration of social, ethnic, and religious identity in ransoming and the interactions of individuals across physical, social, ethnic, and religious boundaries between the sixteenth and twenty-first centuries. The subjects of the articles range from seventeenth century ransom and prisoner exchanges between Muslims and Christians in the Mediterranean Basin; the treatment of Muslim captives in seventeenth century France; the ransoming of British sailors held captive in eighteenth century southern Morocco; the scholarly Muslim West African discourse on ransoming from the sixteenth to mid-nineteenth centuries; specific case studies on the ransoming of European missionaries in 1870s Asante and of European oil workers during the Nigerian civil war; and contemporary ransoming practices in Nigeria, the Sahara/Sahel, and Somalia. Some of the specific themes that are addressed in these articles include definitions of ransoming, ransom negotiation procedures, asymmetry in ransom negotiations, and expectations of both captors and captives.

Defining Ransoming and Distinguishing between Captives and Slaves

Just like developing a general definition of slavery which encompasses the wide variety of historical and contemporary practices, developing a universal definition of ransoming is difficult. The quest for a comprehensive definition is confounded by the desire to include all ransoming systems across the breadth of geographic regions and temporal periods while also distinguishing ransoming from other practices. The development of an inclusive definition of ransoming is further complicated by the frequent use of “redemption” as a synonym for ransoming, especially in the literature on Mediterranean systems of ransoming, and distinguishing between a “captive” and a “slave” particularly in the era of legal slavery. It is especially important to differentiate between the redemption of slaves and the ransoming of captives in systems where the practices of both prisoners not yet enslaved and that of enslaved individuals buying or have others purchase their freedom co-existed.

Sylviane Diouf distinguishes between purchasing the freedom of enslaved individuals and purchasing the freedom of captives at risk for enslavement and their return to their previous society by using the term “captive redemption.” While she does not specifically define the term “captive redemption” she refers to it as the ability to “buy back someone’s freedom” and “to buy the freedom of people slated for deportation.”¹ Géza Dávid and Pál Fodor use the term “ransom slavery” to differentiate between captives taken along the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian border who were released upon payment and permitted to return home with their social position intact and slaves who were freed upon purchase of their freedom. According to Fodor, “prisoners of war and captives for ransom…were called esir/tutsak. … Neither in law nor in actuality was the esir a slave but could easily become one if he or she was not sufficiently valuable to warrant a ransom demand, or if he or she could not raise the sum required.”² In dealing with the West African socio-legal environment, I also place importance in distinguishing between the institutions of paying for the freedom of a captive who has never been enslaved and paying for the freedom of an enslaved individual. In my definition of ransoming I differentiate between the ransoming of a captive and the redemption of a slave by focusing on the fate of the captive/slave. I consider someone to be a ransomed captive if that individual is able to return to their own society with their previous social identity intact. I regard someone to be a redeemed slave if that individual remains in a subservient position in his/her former owner’s society. I define ransoming as “the practice of paying for the release of a captive at the time of capture or soon afterwards.”³

My definition distinguishes between a “captive” and a “slave” based on the status of the victim. Michel Fontenay, however, wrestling with the same issue of differentiating between a long-term captive and a short-term slave but in the Mediterranean system, separates the two statuses based on the purpose of the captor/owner. He distinguishes between “use-value” and “exchange-value” of the prisoner. For Fontenay, a “slave” was a person whose owner’s purpose in holding him was to extract labor whereas a “captive” was an investment to be treated primarily as a medium of exchange.⁴ In this issue, Daniel Hershenzon challenges Fontenay’s focus on “use-value” and “exchange-value” in differentiating between captives and slaves in the Mediterranean Basin. Hershenzon argues that the categories of “use-value” (slaves) and “exchange-value” (captives) were fluid since people on both sides of the Mediterranean were concerned with obtaining the correct combination of money and specific individuals to secure the release of particular captives. As Hershenzon points out labor power (“use-value”) and profit (“exchange-value”) were not the only motivations for procuring prisoners and that often times certain individuals needed to be located in order to exchange them for the freedom of others. This was especially important in retrieving Muslim captives held in Europe where, as Hershenzon argues, in the absence of formal ransoming institutions working on the behalf of Maghribis, Maghribis often arranged for the ransom of their kin through exchange or barter rather than monetary payment. Gillian Weiss, also in this issue, complicates the issue of distinguishing between a captive and a slave by raising the question of what was theoretically possible but in practicality was not. As she states while it was notionally possible for “esclaves turcs” laboring on French royal galleys to be freed in exchange for ransom payment, they were in effect slaves since the French Crown was unwilling to part with them. Indeed due to their high value, “esclaves turcs” were often used as a unit of account in bureaucratic registries. However, “esclaves turcs” were functionally priceless since their labor was too highly valued for them to ever be actually ransomed, sold, or exchanged.

In the contemporary era, where slavery is legally outlawed in every internationally recognized political jurisdiction and distinguishing between the phenomena of paying for the freedom of a captive who is not yet enslaved and that of a slave is not as relevant, defining ransoming is an easier task. In this issue, Akachi Odoemene who examines ransoming in modern Nigeria and Awet Weldemichael in his study of what he terms “ransom piracy” offer similar definitions of ransoming. Odoemene, in this issue defines ransoming as “the demand of some payment of sort, either in cash or kind, in exchange for an abductee, either a person or some thing often held in a disadvantage position.” Weldemichael, also in this issue, offers a straightforward definition of ransoming as “the paying for the freedom of captives.”

Ransom Negotiation Procedures

A number of the contributors emphasize the necessary cooperation between captors, captives, and those involved in the ransom negotiations either as payers of ransom or as mediators in successful ransom negotiations. Successful ransom negotiations necessitated a certain amount of collusion between captors, captives, governments, payers of ransom, and mediators. For captors, ransoming captives was a worthwhile endeavor in order to secure a high payment for the return of a specific captive while captives and their families, if they were able, were willing to pay the price for freedom. Successful ransom negotiations required communication between the captor and the payers of ransom. Whether it was in Europe, the Maghrib, or West Africa, it was usually captives, with permission of their captors, who were the ones who made first contact with either family or government representatives in order to start ransom negotiations. Once the initial contact was made, however, mediators were often employed in order to help negotiate the ransom, and facilitate the payment and the return of captives. Mediators were often individuals who were connected to both sides of the negotiation and were able to travel freely across political borders. They were often individuals who could easily cross religious and cultural boundaries and could act as cultural-brokers. The role of Christian ransoming orders such as the Trinitarians and Mercedarians is well known for negotiating the ransoms of Christians in the Maghrib. Yet, as discussed by Hershenzon, individuals who occupied spaces “in-between,” cultural-brokers, such as traders, moriscos, renegades, and pirates were often hired by both Europeans and Maghribis to help facilitate the ransom negotiations for their kin. Likewise, in the negotiations between Britain and Asante for the return of the Basel Christian Mission missionaries, as discussed in this issue by Olatunji Ojo, the British hired a native clerk and a Christian convert of the Asante royal family to mediate the negotiations. Like the mediators hired in the Mediterranean basin, these two men also freely crossed between the European and Asante cultural, legal, and social worlds. Similarly, with the institutionalization and professionalization of ransoming in contemporary Somalia, as Weldemichael discusses, Somali pirates prefer to use English-speaking Somalis who have had experience in the West as their mediators in ransom negotiations with shipping companies. Again, these are individuals who can be considered to be cultural-brokers.

Also of key importance is the involvement, or lack of involvement of government in ransom negotiations. In the historical period, government involvement helped shape and facilitate ransom negotiations yet the lack of strong governance in the contemporary period has permitted space for the taking of captives and ransoming to flourish. The role of central government is especially apparent in the historical period in the ransoming back of Muslims in the Mediterranean basin and in West Africa. European government officials took a much more active stance in ransoming negotiations than their Muslim counterparts. As discussed in this issue, both Maghribi rulers and Sokoto rulers preferred that families make private arrangements to ransom their captive kin. Yet, Maghribi rulers often included the release of Maghribi Muslims as a precondition for peace treaties and often bartered Christian captives for the return of Muslim captives. In the Sokoto Caliphate, the freedom of individuals considered to be freeborn Muslims was a paramount policy concern of the Sokoto government and government officials helped facilitate and sometimes pay for ransoms. Sometimes, as demonstrated by the negotiations for James Irving’s ransom and those of his crew, government involvement and interest could also be a detriment to captives’ interests. As pointed out by Suzanne Schwarz, Irving, the British slave-ship captain held captive in southern Morocco, blamed the delay in the negotiations for his release on the Moroccan Sultan’s politicking with the Bayrūk in Guelmīm and with the British at al-Sawīra (Essaouira). Other times, government involvement as discussed by Weiss and Hershenzon prevented the ransoming of captives.

As demonstrated by Amy Niang, Weldemichael, and Odoemene, in the modern era, ransoming is also a reaction to governance or a lack of governance and the inability of government institutions to protect local economic interests. For Niang, as she states in her article in this issue, “raiding and ransoming strategies have thus been used as acts of defiance, as a form of adaptation to, and a response to various social strains heightened by capitalism, the disruption of traditional trading and economic circuits, and ultimately as a political weapon.” She views the contemporary kidnapping and ransoming of westerners in the Sahel as part of an attempt to resurrect fading modes of governance in a society undergoing fundamental and disruptive economic change. Along the desert edge, she views the phenomena of contemporary ransoming in the Sahel as a continuation of past practices of raiding, razzia, and ransoming as forms of resource redistribution. Likewise, Weldemichael views contemporary Somali piracy and ransoming as beginning as a response to the lack of strong government entities to protect Somali resources. He argues that Somali piracy began in the late 1990s as a grassroots response to foreign plundering of Somali marine resources but was later overtaken by criminal elements more interested in the profits of ransoming than safeguarding resources. Odoemene views the fundamental cause of kidnapping and ransoming of both foreigners and Nigerians in the Niger Delta as arising from the lack of economic opportunity, especially for the youth.

Asymmetry in Ransom Negotiations

A common theme touched upon in many of the articles and that crossed temporal and geographic boundaries was perceived asymmetry in economic and political power between captors and those being asked to pay ransom. While it often appears that those holding captives for ransom have the upper hand, as noted by Odoemene and Niang, it is often the captors who believe that they are the ones in the less powerful position. For Odoemene and Niang, ransoming develops out of competition for economic resources. Odoemene discusses the concept of “competing victimhoods.” Captors view themselves as the poor and oppressed who for their own survival need to engage in captivity and ransoming in order to resist a powerful elite. On the other hand, captive individuals being held for ransom, their families, friends and society at large often view themselves as the victims of a terrible and criminal act. Odoemene views ransoming in the contemporary Niger Delta as a result of the mismanagement of human and natural resources. Niang posits that raiding and ransoming are acts of defiance, as adaptions and responses to the social strains caused by economic change and as a political weapon.

These views are exemplified by Weldemichael’s discussion of contemporary Somali piracy and Ojo’s discussion of the European captives held in late nineteenth century Asante. Weldemichael notes that contemporary piracy and ransoming off the Somali coast emerged in the late 1990s as a defensive strategy against the plundering of Somalia’s marine environment in the aftermath of the collapse of the central government in 1991. Ojo puts the seizure and holding for ransom of European Christian missionaries in the context of changing economic and political relationships between Britain and Asante. Both the Somali pirates of the 1990s and the Asante elite believed that they were in the weaker position vis-à-vis their opponents. In the 1990s, the Somali pirates believed that there was no other recourse against foreign violation of Somalia’s territorial waters and the destruction of local fisheries whereas in the 1870s Asante was losing territory and trade advantage to the British which resulted in the incorporation of Asante into the British Empire as a protectorate in 1874 and as a colony in 1896. The idea of ransoming as a political weapon can also be seen in Roy Doron’s argument concerning the AGIP oil workers ransom case during the Nigerian civil war. Doron argues that the Biafrans held the oil workers for ransom because they were losing the war and were hoping that the crisis would yet again draw the world’s attention to Biafra and give them de facto recognition as a government. Hershenzon highlights the asymmetry in ransom negotiations in the early-modern Mediterranean World. He considers the Mediterranean ransoming environment to be a singular system yet notes that it was more likely for a Christian captive to be ransomed than a Muslim captive. He attributes this asymmetry to the fact that there were formal institutions such as the Trinitarians and Mercedarians involved in negotiating ransoms for Christian captives and the reluctance of Europeans to release their Muslim captives for money. Instead, kin of Muslim captives often had to rely on complicated procedures of attaining the correct Christian captive to effect the release of a particular Muslim captive.

Identity and Expectations of Captives and Captors

An important factor in assessing whether a captive was a good candidate to be ransomed by both the captor and the potential payer of ransom was the perceived identity of the captive. As Schwarz argues in this issue in the cases of Liverpool slave traders held captive in Morocco and along the Atlantic coast of the Sahara, especially the case of Irving, the traders believed that their identity as Christian Britons ought to protect them from enslavement. Schwarz argues that Irving viewed his captivity, forced labor, and potential enslavement as a “reversal of the natural social order” as he viewed himself racially and religiously superior to his captors. He certainly did not view his captivity as a time to empathize with the 3000 enslaved Africans he helped transport to labor in the Americas. Schwarz juxtaposes Irving’s view of his identity and rights as a Christian with Gustavus Vassa’s, also known as Olaudah Equiano, urging of Christians to reconsider the enslavement of Africans on religious principles. Throughout his captivity, Irving held on to the firm belief that he ought never to have been held captive because of his racial and religious identity. Likewise, it was precisely his identity as a Briton which eventually encouraged one of his captors to permit his ransom, due to the ransom fee, and for British diplomats at al-Sawīra to raise the ransom fees. A similar logic existed in the case of the European Basel Christian Mission missionaries seized by Asante as discussed by Ojo. Even though none of the missionaries seized by Asante soldiers considered themselves to be British, Asante regarded them as such since they were seized from British controlled territory. Ojo shows that from the Asante perspective, the European missionaries shared enough cultural traits with the British for them to be considered British “kin” even though they did not consider themselves to be British. Gold Coast officials obviously also concluded that they were responsible for the missionaries since they took the lead in the ransom negotiations. Likewise, as Doron argues, it was the Italian identity of the oil workers kidnapped by Biafran commandos during the Nigerian civil war that made them valuable as both a source of potential revenue and a means for putting the war back onto the international agenda. It was their Italian citizenship that encouraged the Italian government to negotiate their ransom.

Weiss’ discussion of the meaning and status of “esclaves turcs” demonstrates the complex interaction between political allegiance, religion, and economic expediency in holding captives. “Esclaves turcs” who labored on the galleys of France’s seventeenth century Mediterranean royal fleet were supposed to be captured Muslims who theoretically could be freed upon payment or exchange. The vast majority of “esclaves turcs” were Muslim Ottomans and Moroccans. Due to the high demand for slave galley labor, however, Hungarian and Ottoman Christian and Jewish prisoners, who should not have faced the prospect of slavery in France, were also frequently classified as “esclaves turcs.”

As I point out in my article in this issue, identity was also central to the discourse on captivity, enslavement, and ransoming amongst Muslim West African scholars of the sixteenth through mid-nineteenth centuries. These scholars argued against a correlation between racial and religious identity. They argued that personal unbelief and not racial identity was a legitimate reason for enslavement. Yet, just like in Asante and the French galleys, imposed identity was often just as important as self-identity when it came to one’s chances of being ransomed. As shown by the actions of the jihad leaders of the early nineteenth century, religious identity could be manipulated to exclude as Muslims individuals who considered themselves to be Muslim. West African scholars throughout the sixteenth to nineteenth centuries argued that it was incumbent upon Muslim leaders to rescue perceived freeborn Muslims from captivity and potential enslavement through any means necessary including ransoming.

The articles in this special issue demonstrate the conflicting interests of different actors involved in ransoming whether they were captives, captors, kin, government officials, or mediators. They demonstrate the different motivations for holding captives and willingness to ransom which were affected by time, place, and economic and political conditions. Moreover, through the discussion of successful ransom negotiations and their potential hazards and pitfalls these articles demonstrate the delicacy and risk of negotiation failure. Through the use of specific case examples they illustrate the emotional impact that captivity had on captives and the people who cared about them as they navigated the psychological highs and lows of capture, their lives in captivity, and the raising and dashing of hope as negotiations for their release progressed, stalled, failed, and succeeded.