Slavery and British Industrialisation: The ‘New History Of Capitalism’ and Eric Williams’ Capitalism and Slavery
Historians know that slavery was an important part of the eighteenth-century British Empire. They have wondered about its influence on the economic development of Britain, especially upon Britain’s transition, first in the world, to a highly developed industrial economy in the late eighteenth century. The historian who gave the most compelling answer to this question was the Trinidad scholar, and later Prime Minister, Eric Williams. Williams wrote a hugely influential book in 1944, Capitalism and Slavery, which suggested that the link between West Indian slavery and British industrialisation was real and substantial.1 Williams never made an argument that slavery “caused” the Industrial Revolution, but he suggested, as Barbara Solow was later to note, that it “played an active role in its pattern and timing.”2
Anyone interested in the relationship between the growth of slavery in the early modern Americas, especially the British Caribbean, and the origins of the Industrial Revolution, is well aware of the Williams’ thesis and its galvanising effect on scholarship. The Williams’ thesis (or, rather, his several overlapping theses about West Indian growth and decline) attracted an avalanche of scholarship among historians of the British West Indies, especially in the 1970s and 1980s. That outpouring of scholarship settled into a general consensus that Williams’ arguments were more provocative than persuasive.3 David Eltis and Stanley Engerman produced an important article in 2000 which provided a lucid refutation of the more dramatic claims made by Williams, notably that Britain would not have been able to industrialize without slavery. They also cast doubt on Williams’ assertion that slave-produced sugar was more important than any other British product in the build-up to industrialization.4
Recently, however, support for the Williams’ thesis has had a fresh lease on life as a result of a historiographical movement among United States historians of the Early Republic and antebellum periods with the self-penned title of the New History of Capitalism. One sign of how prominent the movement has become is that it recently was the subject of a lengthy conversation in one of the most important journals in American history.5 The proponents of this movement take as apodictic the central role slavery played in creating modern capitalism.6 Indeed, slavery is capitalism’s “beating heart.” They trumpet the novelty of their view– one claim being that “for too long historians saw no problem in the opposition between capitalism and slavery.” They argue that historians before themselves depicted the history of American capitalism as developing without slavery– although the more careful cheerleaders for the New History of Capitalism movement have admitted that discussions of slavery and capitalism are not new.7 Their claims are sweeping, highly polemical and rooted in present day politics, seeking to wrest away the study of capitalism from economic historians, who, they argue, “naturalise” the subject and thus minimise its negative consequences, especially for poorer people. Though they are reluctant to define what capitalism is,8 they stand opposed to capitalism as a positive force and see it, much as Williams did, as a cause of much of the unhappiness in the world.
They set their face in particular against the many interpretations of the origins of the Industrial Revolution that see it as a product of bourgeois virtues, unexplained Enlightenment or the happy coincidences of a Glorious Revolution in 1688 which guaranteed private property. This reading of their work is implied rather than stated, as they largely ignore the extensive literature on bourgeois dignity and on the institutional consequences of the Glorious Revolution. It seems clear, however, that their approach is opposed to culturally based interpretations explaining Britain’s precocious industrialization and that they support interpretations of capitalism in Britain and in the United States that emphasise how economic growth was fostered by the formation, integration and enhancement of the financial capacities of states geared for commercial activities.9
The proponents of the New History of Capitalism are unabashed fans of the Williams’ thesis and wish to extend its insights backward and especially forward in time. Seth Rockman, for example, argues that while the Williams’ thesis can be criticized as an explanation for British economic growth, his “famous juxtaposition of slavery and capitalism still warrants consideration for the United States.”10 Unlike Williams, however, the advocates of this new movement concentrate on the nineteenth rather than the eighteenth century. They argue that in that century slavery “was at the core of the American economy” and was inextricable from the development of modern industry in the United States. They emphasise cotton – “king cotton” as southerners falsely believed when contemplating secession in 1861– as key to establishing the United States in the global economy, creating markets not just for southern but also for northern agriculture. But, like Williams, they argue that accumulated profits from slavery had a lasting impact on a range of industries, “re-animating profits in other sectors of the global economy.” And, like Williams, its proponents make extravagant claims for the global impact of New World plantations based on enslaved persons’ labour. Slavery, it is contended, was central to the emergence of modern capitalism and integral to the Industrial Revolution. As a result of slavery, it is claimed, Europe “was able to escape the constraints on its own resources” developing “innovations in long distance trade, investment of capital over long distances and the institutions in which this new form of capitalist globalization were embedded.” These were all derived, it is suggested “from a global trade dominated by slave labor and colonial expansion.”11
That money derived from West Indian slavery, and even more so profits accumulated from slave-based labour in the antebellum South, influenced how factories developed and thrived in the early stages of the Industrial Revolution is a fundamental theme. This essay will look once again at the relationship between slavery and capitalism, especially in the development of British industry in the second half of the eighteenth century, in the light of new assertions of a revised and enhanced Williams’ thesis. It will concentrate on the wide-ranging and very influential book by Harvard historian, Sven Beckert, Empire of Cotton: A New History of Global Capitalism (2014), which is to date the major achievement of this new historical movement.
Beckert extends Williams’ argument backwards in time through his invention of a new form of economic organisation, which he calls “war capitalism” (defined as “slavery, the expropriation of indigenous peoples, imperial expansion, armed trade, and the assertion of sovereignty over people and land by entrepreneurs at its core.”)12 Williams’ concern was mostly with the British West Indies, not the United States of America. He thought the American Revolution an event that marked the end of a mercantile capitalism favourable to planters and the start of an industrial capitalism where planters, at least in the British West Indies, became expendable. By contrast, Beckert largely ignores the American Revolution. He contends, moreover, that War Capitalism was not supplanted by industrial capitalism but that several forms of capitalism coexisted until well after the end of the American Civil war. He argues that there was a seamless shift from the dominance of West Indian planters in the production of cotton to the rapid growth of cotton planting in the United States in the nineteenth century. The United States brought War Capitalism and industrial capitalism together but such coexistence did not work elsewhere in the world in the late nineteenth century. In an echo of Williams’ argument that slavery started mercantile capitalism but that industrial capitalism killed it, Beckert argues that after War Capitalism had created the modern world, including industrial capitalism, European colonialism in the second half of the nineteenth century prevented places outside Western Europe and the United States from making the next step towards industrialization. Thus, “colonialism allowed industrial capitalism in some parts of the world while making it less likely elsewhere.”13 Does this argument breathe new life into the Williams’ thesis?
Eric Williams based his arguments from his understanding that the slave trade was highly profitable and that the British West Indies was central to Britain’s mercantile economy between the Restoration and the American Revolution. The British West Indian plantation system reached its eighteenth century height around the time of the conclusion of the Seven Years’ War. It did so just at the time that Britain was in the early stages of an explosive growth in industrial innovation, including the development of a distinctive factory system, heralding the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution. The British American plantation system involved badly exploited workers, overwhelmingly enslaved persons of African descent, producing tropical goods, like sugar, cotton and tobacco, for European markets. The number of slaves involved was considerable – around 555,000 in 1750, of whom 295,000 lived in the British Caribbean and 247,000 in British North America. Plantation profits reached an all-time peak during the Seven Years’ War, averaging 13.5 percent return on capital. Profits still averaged around 9 percent between the Peace of Paris and the start of the American Revolution. Profits from the slave trade were less, below 10 percent, but they were still healthy, given that returns on government bonds were 3-3.5 percent and returns from agricultural land was between 4 and 6 percent.14 This impressive economic performance encouraged Williams to argue that slavery contributed to the remarkable economic transformation that propelled Britain to the industrial leadership of the world beginning in the second half of the eighteenth century.
Indeed, his argument was stronger than just that historians had not realised that the British West Indies was a vital part of empire in the eighteenth century before the start of the American Revolution. He argued, first, that slavery was key to the Industrial Revolution in so far as “the profits obtained [from slavery] provided one of the main streams of that accumulation of capital which financed the Industrial Revolution.”15 In addition, he argued that wealth derived from slavery was important to the social, cultural and political fabric of eighteenth-century Britain.16 Third, he insisted that the West Indian slave-economy went into decline from 1783, possibly as early as 1763. Here, he was repeating an argument made by the pioneering American scholar of the British West Indian economy, Lowell Ragatz, the man to whom Williams dedicated his book.17 Finally, he argued that West Indian planters changed from being progressive forces within mercantilism to becoming a reactionary and backward looking group, opposed to industrial capitalism and increasingly abandoned by industrialists as protectionists and economic misfits with no place in modern Britain. In a famous formulation, he contended that West Indian planters provided the material basis which allowed industrialisation to occur but were then cruelly abandoned by an industrialising British state which no longer had any need for them. In short, “the capitalists had first encouraged West Indian slavery and then helped to destroy it.” Indeed, “When British capitalism found the West Indian monopoly a nuisance, they destroyed West Indian slavery,” despite having “ignored or defended” slavery when “British capitalism depended upon the West Indies.”18
One of his subsidiary aims was to attack the imperial school of British historians who had taught him at Oxford in the 1930s. He disliked them for their ethnocentric celebration of abolitionists as altruistic humanitarians. He argued instead that abolitionism was based on more base economic motivations. Another aim was to contribute to a developing “Third World scholarship” of nationalistic anti-colonialism, with a West Indian audience more in mind than a European or American one.19 A more pressing imperative, however, was to counter the assumptions made by Adam Smith that the West Indies was less a source of wealth than a drain on British resources with the large capital outlays of Britain put into plantation agriculture in the country being a major misallocation of funds. Smith argued that the “overflowing” of capital from Britain to the colonies showed that the empire concentrated in the West Indies was “a project which has cost, which continues to cost, and which, if it is pursued in the same way as it has been hitherto, is likely to cost immense expence, without being likely to bring in any profit.”20
For Smith, the problem was one of monopoly profits and the excessive protectionism demanded by West Indian planters for their products within the British Market.21 Williams denied that money flowed mainly from Britain to the colonies as Smith suggested but he accepted that Smith was an important figure in pushing British politicians, influenced by the new class of British industrialists, away from a protectionist mercantilist regime towards free trade and away from slavery in favour of wage labour. Williams argued that Smith was “the intellectual champion of the industrial middle-class and the major proponent of the idea that slavery was more expensive than free labor,” thus treating, Williams believed, what “is a specific question of time, place, labor and soil” as “an abstract proposition.”22 Williams’ book was thus as much an argument about political economy as about economic history: he wanted to connect the decline of the West Indies after 1783 to new ideas about free trade and industrial capitalism and to the discarding of policies of mercantilism in which West Indian planters had heavily invested.
Williams overestimated Smith’s influence in policy making in the late eighteenth century. He saw the move from mercantilism to industrial capitalism as a compressed process when in fact free trade did not become a serious feature of British political life until after the abolition of slavery in 1834. But Williams made an important point that West Indian prosperity rested very much upon vested interests in Britain, including colonial merchants, slave traders and the unreformed House of Commons. Those vested interests, he argued, could not maintain West Indians’ privileged economic position after the end of the American Revolution. British consumers were increasingly unwilling to support special interests advocating for protection when new industries created by Britain’s technological prowess looked less for protection from competition than access to new export markets.23
The part of the Williams’ thesis that has stood up least well to empirical investigation is his assertion that the West Indies were in economic decline after the end of the American Revolution, leading to a diminishment of planters’ political power in Britain at the same time as the power of industrial capitalists was growing and as British imperial policy turned eastward to focus upon India. Historians no longer see such a “move to the east” in British imperial policy after 1783. The British Empire in the Americas remained central to imperial policy and to the imperial imagination until at least the abolition of the slave trade in 1807 and probably for some time after.24 It was vital to imperial geopolitics, especially during the long Napoleonic Wars and during the conflagration of the Haitian Revolution in the 1790s and 1800s.25 In addition, the British made several new acquisitions in the southern Caribbean and South America as a result of war between it and France and the Netherlands.
Britain had good reason to covet Caribbean territory. The West Indies, despite a small economic dip during the American Revolution, remained a highly profitable part of the empire at least until the abolition of the slave trade in 1807.26 Indeed, some of Britain’s new acquisitions, notably Trinidad and what became British Guiana, formed a new frontier of high plantation profits for the first thirty years of the nineteenth century.27 The profitability of the plantations did not decline, despite Williams’ predictions, after the end of the American Revolution. The abolition of the slave trade, as Seymour Drescher argued in a famous intervention against a major plank of the Williams’ thesis, was not in the economic interests of Britain but was a variation of “econocide.” This abolition occurred in a period when planters were usually making good money from slavery. The one exception to this general tale of plantation prosperity from around 1790 is a short-term period of economic difficulty around 1805-7 which had, David Ryden tells us, a significant effect on the politics leading directly to the abolition of the slave trade.28
Sven Beckert’s prize-winning global history of cotton presents a version of the Williams’ thesis that is stronger than anything Eric Williams considered. It has been a highly praised book, garnering the sort of laudatory reviews most authors can only dream about. The argument evades easy synopsis as it is a grand undertaking that covers a large range of topics and many countries, although it is decidedly United States-centric. Even critics acknowledge that his account of the global history of cotton is highly readable, engaging and a comprehensive book. Most commentators have been more generous than this in their judgements. For Eric Foner, it is “global history as it should be written.” For Thomas Bender it is “masterly” and an “astonishing achievement.”29 At the very least, it is the book that is setting the pace in the New History of Capitalism movement. It also makes the Caribbean pivotal to the making of the modern world and reinvigorates the Williams’ thesis in a remarkable way.
The Williams’ thesis is central to how Beckert conceptualises the development of War Capitalism and its eventual morphing, as he sees it, into industrial capitalism. He believes that the plantation system created there provided the necessary institutional innovation allowing for what he calls “the re-creation of the countryside through bodily coercion, something only possible under war capitalism” Cotton grown by slaves in the Caribbean “motivated and financed the unprecedented incorporation of newly depopulated territories into the world economy,” Beckert asserts. The results of such cotton production “created the expansive, and elastic, global cotton supply network necessary for the Industrial Revolution, and with it the mechanisms through which the needs and rhythms of industrial life in Europe could be transferred to the global countryside.”30 Beckert is drawing here on Marx’s famous dictum that “slavery is just as much the pivot of bourgeois industry as machinery, credits etc. Without slavery you have no cotton; without cotton you have no modern industry.”31
One problem with this argument about the importance of the Caribbean to British industrialization is that Beckert is not a good guide to the Caribbean. For example, he argues that due to an ant invasion and hurricanes Barbados’s traditional crop, sugar, had been “decimated” by the 1770s. The result, he argues, is that Barbados was “transformed essentially into a huge cotton plantation.” Caribbean historians will raise their eyebrows at this suggestion. Certainly, cotton production increased greatly in Barbados during the 1780s, peaking in the years after the 1780 hurricane and after peace with America had been declared. Nevertheless, sugar always remained king in Barbados during the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, employing 49.5 of all slaves in 1834 as compared to 5.8 percent in “cotton and other agriculture.”32 A more serious error is Beckert’s treatment of Samuel Greg, an early cotton industrialist and the owner of Quarry Bank Mill, a pioneering cotton factory established in 1784 with a “few newfangled spinning machines, so-called water frames, a collection of orphaned children, putting-out workers from surrounding villages, and a supply of Caribbean cotton.” Beckert emphasizes that what Greg did in developing a machine to process cotton was because he was a slave owner, in Dominica, who got cotton from merchant relatives in Liverpool and used the finished product to clothe his own slaves. “From this local spark,” Beckert claims grandly, “industrial capitalism would emerge and eventually spread its wings across the globe. From this local spark, the world as most of us know it emerged.”33 The one problem with this soaring rhetoric is that Samuel Greg was not, in fact, a Caribbean planter when he established his cotton manufacturing mill. It was his uncles who owned a slave-run plantation in Dominica called Hillsborough, which Samuel only took control of as sole proprietor in 1819 following the death of his aunt, who had a life interest in the property from 1795.34 Thus, Greg was not, as Beckert claims, sending his manufactured cotton to dress his own slaves in Dominica. Given the crucial role Beckert assigns Greg as a revolutionary shaping the future, this otherwise small error takes on large significance.
Where the Caribbean is really important to Beckert is that it was where Christopher Columbus landed in 1492, thus setting off a chain of unfortunate developments that led to War Capitalism and the rise of Europe and the United States to a global dominance they have yet to relinquish. Beckert’s use of “war capitalism” to describe what was behind a long process of change in the cotton industry is both precise and also vague, with little attention paid to its theoretical roots. In a book that is replete with footnotes and generous about other scholars’ influence, it is noticeable that in the theoretical sections of the book dealing with War Capitalism Beckert does not footnote the works to which he is intellectually indebted.35
War Capitalism is a form of economic organization intimately tied to the series of transformations of the Americas unleashed in the aftermath of the Columbian Encounter and what Beckert calls “the recreation of the world.”36 His central tenet is that after Columbus “Europeans united the power of capital and the power of the state to forge, often violently, a global production context.” Europeans, who were the active agents in the process of the recreation of the world, developed “new ways of organizing production, trade and consumption” through slavery, land expropriation and imperial expansion. These processes were rooted in violence and “flourished not in the factory but in the field,” with the victims Native Americans and Africans. He argues that War Capitalism lasted from the sixteenth century until well into the nineteenth century and was based “not on free labor but on slavery.” It involved a bifurcation of the world into an “inside” Europe in which rules of law operated and where “state enforced order ruled.” By contrast, in “outside” and colonized parts of the world “frontier capitalists” could act with impunity, even when behaving criminally, such as when they engaged in large-scale theft of land and resources, when they involved themselves in the decimation of indigenous peoples, and when they employed the untrammeled use of violence in order to exert dominance over less fortunate people.
Slavery was the emblematic institution of this War Capitalism. It remained so, even as War Capitalism mutated into “a new different form of integration of labor, raw materials, markets and capital in huge swaths of the world.” The “true importance of Caribbean planters,” he argues, was not the cotton (or sugar) that they grew “but the institutional innovation that the Caribbean experiment produced.” That innovation involved “the recreation of the countryside through bodily coercion, something only possible under war capitalism.”37 There are several problems with this definition of War Capitalism. The main problems are in large part due to its origin in World Systems theory rather than the more expansive and more naturally global perspective of capitalism and material life devised by Fernand Braudel. Braudel treated the whole world as if it was a matter of course, evoking global history as a series of encounters between different “world-economies” where a world-economy was economically autonomous and self-sufficient entity whose connections and internal exchanges gave it a certain organic unity. Each world-economy, by interacting with other world-economies (as in the Indian Ocean World with Western Europe) might then produce further integration or frictional conflict, in a remarkably open-ended way with no outcome necessarily historically inevitable.38 Such a model does not assume a priori the triumph of one part of the world over another.