The Year Cecil Rhodes Kicked My *** (Part One)

November 23, 2022June 12, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Introduction: If you’ve ever written, painted, composed, recorded, or produced pretty much anything in any medium, you know that sometimes you feel the magic happening and sometimes… well, sometimes you keep sawing the lady in half no matter how much she screams and begs you to stop.

Metaphorically, that is.

I’ve been trying to write a brief bio of Cecil Rhodes off and on for most of 2022. Some of the delays have come as a result of normal, boring stuff – trying to keep up with school, wrapping up some unrelated writing projects, letting myself enjoy stupid fun stuff far more often than I have in recent decades, etc. Some of it comes from my own ignorance. I’ve had to digest way more than I expected about related African and European history just to make sense of the parts directly related to Rhodes. And some of it, if I’m being honest, has been my inability to narrow down his story to a narrative detailed enough to be useful but edited enough to serve its primary purpose – boiling down complex historical ideas to digestible lengths people might actually read and enjoy.

So, I’ve resorted to doing what I sometimes do in these situations. I’m writing it all and posting it here as I go, knowing that it’s too bulky, too unfocused, and too unpolished. Only when I’m finished with all eleventeen installments will I go back and begin chopping away at the results in hopes of making them manageable and perhaps even (Lord willing) engaging. Pretty or not, it’s the only way I can push through some topics and eventually hone them into the pithy brilliance that is “Have To” History. (Right now, at this stage, it’s more like “Hurling” History.)

Turn away if you must. Offer constructive commentary if you dare. Either way, I simply must get through this. Thank you in advance for your understanding and support.

And now, here’s the long, unedited version of stuff you might not even want to know about Cecil Rhodes, but probably should – Part One.

Introduction

Cecil Rhodes was… complicated. It in no way excuses the wrongs for which he was responsible for us to recognize and appreciate the laudable elements of his story. If anything, it reminds us that in the right circumstances, most of us are quite capable of being both swell and abhorrent – sometimes within a very short time frame. While history is certainly replete with similar examples, Rhodes represents as well as anyone the futility of attempting to categorize our forebears into “good guys” and “bad guys.”

As Marvel comics and the Bible figured out long ago, our heroes often have some unpleasant features. Thomas Jefferson was a slave owner and carried on a sexual relationship for years with his slave Sally Hemings. Martin Luther King, Jr., plagiarized his way through grad school and was having extra-marital affairs right up until his assassination. Franklin D. Roosevelt approved the internment of Japanese Americans and turned away Jews at the border during the Holocaust while carrying on his own sexual liaisons. And Sherlock Holmes was a cocaine addict, although he managed to keep his pants on – just in case we needed irrefutable proof he was fictional.

On the other hand, the nastiest villains may retain smatterings of graciousness, talent, or good intentions. Genghis Khan slaughtered tens of thousands of people and built an empire on terror, but he also instituted religious freedom, eliminated torture, and set up a pretty effective mail delivery system. Joseph Stalin modernized Russian agriculture and improved health care and education for the small percentage of citizens who survived his reign. Even Tucker Carlson has, um… I mean…

Stalin and Khan had some good points, is what I’m saying.

Whether in history or pop culture, flawed heroes tend to be far more inspirational and complicated villains far more illuminating. Few of us can aspire to be the next Jesus or Superman. Perhaps, however, we can strive to emphasize the better angels of our nature à la William B. Travis or Severus Snape.

Then again, by most modern standards, Cecil Rhodes was more Magneto than Batman – a complex villain rather than a flawed hero. He is at the very least a problematic figure, no matter how much grace we choose to employ. Whatever his stated intentions or proclaimed ideologies, Cecil was in many ways a very naughty man who used and abused those he deemed lesser than himself – which was most people. The fact that this was not so unusual in his era makes it no less odious.

Still, there’s that “complex and thus interesting” part to consider. Thankfully, we don’t necessarily need to weigh his eternal soul or fully unpack his complex motivations to deal with the symbol he became in western culture and world history. In many ways, that’s more important than the “real” person underneath.

The Son’ll Come Out, Tomorrow…

Cecil Rhodes was born in 1853 in Hertfordshire, just north of London. He was by all accounts a rather “sickly” child – a generic term covering anything from asthma to allergies to lactose intolerance (but stopping short of something major enough to secure accurate diagnosis, like scarlet fever). His father was a clergyman in the Church of England, making the family what we’d today think of as “middle class.” His older brothers attended what were known as “public schools,” the nineteenth century British equivalent of upscale private schooling. Cecil, however, was sent to the local “grammar school,” an early version of what Americans today would think of as a decent, local public high school – humble, but still set above any “charity schools” in the area.

When he was sixteen years old, Cecil fell victim to “consumption” – most likely tuberculosis or something similar. This was a fairly severe condition in the nineteenth century and not everyone recovered. As we’ve recently been reminded, serious ailments which prove difficult to control tend to spark socio-political reactions on top of the personal suffering they cause. When people feel frightened or uncertain, they tend to embrace explanations which offer them some sort of control or detachment from danger and suffering, reality be damned. Folks in nineteenth century England were no exception.

Like so many nasty things, tuberculosis was (and is) caused by bacteria attacking various organs inside the human body, most particularly the lungs. All that coughing and gagging and spitting up blood helped spread the ailment to fellow humans, making it highly contagious – particularly in crowded households, cities, or anywhere else people live and work together. Biologically, the disease itself was an equal opportunity infector. Rich folks were just as susceptible as the poor, other factors being equal.

But of course, other factors weren’t equal – and therein crept that socio-political dynamic history teaches us to expect. One of the primary benefits of wealth was having a little elbow room, thus reducing the chances of infection to begin with. Your surroundings tended to be cleaner and you were more likely to spend time outdoors, further restricting the spread of yucky things. Illness, on the other hand, correlated with poverty in the sense that poor folks were more likely to live in crowded, unsanitary conditions. Poverty, in turn, often correlated with the sorts of lifestyles upper classes derided as immoral and in constant violation of proper social norms.

It’s not always easy to distinguish between difficult circumstances and poor personal choices, then or now.

It was thus natural – if unfortunate – that many people perceived a strong correlation between poverty (and the careless, often “immoral” life choices which accompanied it) and tuberculosis. In other words, the disease took on an ethical component. As is so often the case throughout history, sufferers were thought to be at least partially responsible for their own conditions. Since those living “better” lives, with better educations, better morals, and better resources, were less likely to contract tuberculosis, then maybe those who did fall ill (or die) were kinda asking for it. Add in a little “just world fallacy” and you have a pretty stubborn, if mistaken, paradigm.

In any case, “consumption” meant Rhodes was unable to attend the same sorts of schools as his brothers. When he was 16, he was sent to South Africa in hopes the climate would be better for his health. It was much warmer there, and Cecil could spend more time outside. He began working on a small cotton plantation with one of his older brothers and his health did, in fact, began to improve. It also just so happened that something else was going on in Africa at this time – something shinier and more appealing than picking or refining cotton.

Africa had diamonds. Lots of them. Now it simply needed someone with a little vision to make the most of the sparkly beasts.

All That Glitters Is Sold

Only a few years before Rhodes arrived in South Africa, diamonds had been discovered on the De Beers farm in nearby Kimberley. This sparked a diamond rush much like the gold and silver rushes of early American history. It didn’t take long before Cecil was splitting his time and energy between cotton and diamond mining. Each time he uncovered some sparkle, he used the profits to purchase the rights to more and more land and expand his mining operations. He partnered with a fellow Brit named Charles Rudd and they began building quite a fortune for themselves.

In 1873, Rhodes left Rudd in charge and began using his newfound wealth to pay for the sort of elite education he felt he’d been denied. For nearly a decade, he split his time between his studies in England and the diamond mines of Africa. The “Kimberly Hole,” as their primary operation became known, was one of the largest holes of any sort ever dug, and the wealth just kept pouring out of its depths. In 1880, Rhodes and Rudd formed De Beers Mining Company. Over the next decade they absorbed each of their major competitors, one at a time. De Beers soon became (and remains) one of the biggest names in diamonds worldwide – arguably THE biggest.

In 1886, gold was discovered on De Beers property as well. You know, because it was about time they caught a lucky break. Rhodes was one of the richest men in the world before he turned 35.

It’s worth noting that diamond mining was dirty, dangerous business. Workers were regularly injured or killed on site and severe illness was pretty much a given for any who lived long enough. Poor working conditions, crowded quarters, and the dangers of mining itself made pneumonia and tuberculosis common ailments, with scurvy and syphilis not far behind.

These were considered perfectly acceptable dangers, as long as you weren’t the one facing them. That’s what lesser men – especially those native to the area – were for.

Money Is Politics Is Power Is… Messy

By all accounts, money for money’s sake was never Rhodes’ primary goal. He was convinced beyond doubt that the British were a superior race with a superior culture, and that he owed it to the world to expand Great Britain’s influence over as much of the globe as possible. In his mind, this would not just be good for England – he’d be doing the rest of the world a massive favor as well.

He was thus quick to enter the fray of local politics in southern Africa. For nearly two decades he was rarely idle, throwing himself with equal enthusiasm into business pursuits, territorial conflicts, and political struggles. The details can get a bit tedious for anyone not committed to a detailed history of southern Africa in the late nineteenth century, so we’re going to simplify things a bit in hopes of better understanding and remembering the bigger picture. Rhodes’ primary legacy, after all, is a largely symbolic one; the images and emotions he left behind are arguably far more important than geographical or statistical accuracy.

NEXT: The Long, Unedited Version of Stuff You Might Not Even Want to Know about Cecil Rhodes, but Probably Should – Part Two

Rabbit Trails: Cecil Rhodes and the Moral Complications of… Everything

May 4, 2022June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

NOTE: I’ve been playing with ideas for a future “Have To” History book, tentatively titled “Who In The World?” The premise would be to tackle major events and issues in world history through a series of brief narratives or biographies of world figures whose names may sound vaguely familiar but who aren’t the “A-listers.” Cecil Rhodes certainly fits that bill, but I’ve been having trouble narrowing down what to include and what to cut from his story. The draft I’m sharing today demonstrates both the potential of using biography as an anchor for larger themes and issues and the dangers of the rabbit trails which naturally result from this approach. I doubt most of this will make it into the final version, if such a thing should one day come about.

Cecil Rhodes potentially represents many things in world history. In doing so, he reminds us of the futility of attempting to categorize our forebears into “good guys” and “bad guys.” Rhodes was… complicated. It in no way excuses the wrongs for which he was responsible for us to recognize and appreciate the laudable elements of his story. If anything, it reminds us that in the right circumstances, most of us are quite capable of being both swell and abhorrent – sometimes within a very short time frame.

As Marvel comics (or the Bible) figured out long ago, our heroes often have an unpleasant feature or two, while the nastiest villains may retain smatterings of graciousness, talent, or good intentions of the sort we’d much rather be reserved for someone more likable – hence the endless debates over whether or not the Declaration of Independence is forever tainted by Thomas Jefferson’s record as a slave owner or when it’s appropriate to spill tea on Nelson Mandela or Martin Luther King, Jr. Personally, I’ve always found flawed heroes to be far more inspirational and complicated villains far more illuminating. Few of us can aspire to be as flawless as Superman of Gandhi as commonly presented. Perhaps, however, we can strive to emphasize the better angels of our nature even as flawed, fallen mortals.

Then again, Rhodes was no Jefferson or Gandhi by any measure, no matter how much grace we choose to employ. Whatever his mitigating intentions or ideologies tied to his times and circumstances, Cecil was in many ways a very naughty man who used and abused those he deemed lesser than himself – which was most people.

Rhodes wasn’t American, but his life echoed a Horatio Alger tale: misfit kid defies all the odds and becomes monumentally successful. He craved wealth and power and exploited both once attained. He believed his race was naturally superior to all others – particularly those native to the continent of Africa, where he made much of his fortune and at one time had two countries named after him. He used his wealth and political power to fight for the protection of the “little people” (of various races). He started a war which wasn’t at all necessary and cost tens of thousands of lives. He believed deeply in British values and culture and the good it could do for the world at large once embraced.

Rhodes was idealistic when it came to British values or the power of education. He left behind an endowment committed to providing opportunities for others like himself to attend Oxford University and carve their own pathway to success, explicitly specifying that “no student shall be qualified or disqualified for election … on account of his race or religious opinions.” At the same time, he pretty much laid the groundwork for what would later be known as “apartheid” across South Africa.

Oh, and he helped make diamonds sacred in western culture, sparking a bizarre conviction (which still lingers today) that unless you cement your relationship with small rocks worth several years’ salary, you’re not REALLY in love.

So, like I said… complicated, despite leaning quite naughty by modern standards.

The Son’ll Come Out, Tomorrow…

And his disciples asked him, saying, Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?
Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.
But his disciples muttered to themselves and insisted, that can’t be right. He’s mistranslating the original Greek or something. Can we go back and choose a passage from the Old Testament instead?
(John 9:2-4, Modern American Version)

Cecil Rhodes was born in 1853 in Hertfordshire, just north of London. He was by all accounts a rather “sickly” child – a generic term covering anything from asthma to allergies to lactose intolerance (but stopping short of something major enough to secure accurate diagnosis, like scarlet fever. His father was a clergyman in the Church of England, making the family what we’d today think of as “middle class.” His older brothers attended what were known as “public schools,” the nineteenth century British equivalent of ritzy private schooling. Cecil, however, was sent to the local “grammar school,” an early version of what Americans today would think of as a decent, local public high school – humble, but still set above any “charity schools” in the area.

When he was sixteen years old, Cecil fell victim to “consumption” – most likely tuberculosis or something similar. This was a fairly severe condition in the nineteenth century and not everyone recovered. As we’ve recently been reminded, serious ailments which prove difficult to control tend to spark socio-political reactions on top of the personal suffering they cause. When people feel frightened or out of control, they tend to embrace explanations which offer them some sort of control or detachment from danger or suffering, reality be damned. Folks in nineteenth century England were no exception.

Like so many nasty things, tuberculosis was (and is) caused by bacteria attacking various organs inside the human body, most particularly the lungs. All that coughing and gagging and spitting up blood helps spread the ailment to fellow humans, making it highly contagious – particularly in crowded households, cities, or anywhere else people live and work together. Biologically, the disease itself was an equal opportunity infector. Rich folks were just as susceptible as the poor, other factors being equal.

But of course, other factors weren’t equal – end therein crept that socio-political dynamic history teaches us to expect. One of the primary benefits of wealth was having a little elbow room, thus reducing the chances of infection to begin with. Your surroundings tended to becleaner and you were more likely to spend time outdoors, further restricting the spread of yucky things.

Correlation, Causation, and the Moral High Ground

Nineteenth century medicine wasn’t quite caught up on the whole bacteria/infection thing, but physicians certainly noted the correlations between nasty conditions and disease. One of the most common treatments, in fact, was to send the afflicted who could afford it to warmer, and thus presumably healthier, locales, where they’d be directed to spend more time outside breathing fresh air and reading epic poetry or whatever. (In Cecil’s case, that meant sending him to South Africa to farm cotton with one of his brothers – but we’ll get back to that in a moment.)

Illness, in other words, correlated with poverty in the sense that poor folks were more likely to live in crowded, unsanitary conditions. Poverty, in turn, often correlated with the sorts of lifestyles upper classes derided as immoral and in constant violation of proper social norms. It’s not always easy to distinguish between difficult circumstances and poor personal choices, then or now.

By way of example, for centuries those paying attention had noted a strong correlation between bad smells and severe illnesses. It was thus reasonable enough to assume that strong odors were actually the source of many ailments. Avoid the nasty scents, and you’d reduce your chances of getting sick.

This “miasma theory” had such staying power because it largely worked. Staying away from gross things will, in fact, reduce your chances of serious illness. More time outside and “socially distancing” from others makes you less likely to take in new germs. Keeping your surroundings clean, eating healthier foods, and getting enough sleep also lower your odds of “consumption.” We can all break out our “correlation does not imply causation” memes, but it wasn’t such a crazy supposition – incorrect or not.

It was thus natural – if unfortunate – that many perceived a strong correlation between poverty and the careless, often “immoral” life choices which accompanied it, and tuberculosis. In other words, the disease took on an ethical component. As is so often the case throughout history, sufferers were thought to be at least partially responsible for their own conditions. If those living better lives, with better educations, and better morals, and better resources, were less likely to contract tuberculosis, then maybe those who did fall ill (or die) were kinda asking for it. Add in a predisposition for divine retribution and eternal justice and whatnot and you get the very human “just-world fallacy.”

Science Progresses; Bias Conserves

And therein lies the problem. (Well, one of them – and a BIG one.) The confusion about the source of illness is problematic from a purely medical standpoint, of course, but that element tends to clear up over time because that’s how science works – explanations are proposed, tested, messed with, and tried out, until refined into better explanations. Lather, rinse, repeat. It’s the oversimplification of the moral and personal factors which proves far more dangerous over time. Nearly two centuries later, and we’re still not fully convinced that poverty and illness aren’t primarily caused by the afflicted simply not being as wonderful as we are.

I mean, it should be obvious – we’ve worked hard to do all the right things, and while it hasn’t been easy, we’re doing OK. Therefore, that’s how things work. Therefore squared, anyone for whom things aren’t working out must not have worked as hard as we have or done as many right things – otherwise, the system is chaotic and random and meaningless and there’s no point to any of it and madness rules eternity.

It’s a tempting bit of reasoning, especially if we work very hard to avoid thinking about it too clearly. (It’s far “truer” when we just kinda “feel” it in the background and don’t over-analyze it.) Such a monumental fallacy goes nicely with some false dichotomy icing and blood-red sprinkles spelling out “EITHER OUR CHOICES MATTER OR THEY DON’T” in an awkward sugary scrawl (and the “DON’T” kinda crammed in at the far edge).

In any case, “consumption” meant Rhodes was unable to attend the same sorts of schools as his brothers. He was instead sent to South Africa where it was warmer and he could spend more time outside, in this case working on a small cotton plantation with one of those same brothers. It just so happened that something else was going on in Africa at this time – something shinier and more appealing than picking or refining cotton.

Africa had diamonds. Lots of them. Now it simply needed someone with a little vision to make the most of the sparkly beasts.

The Second Boer War (“Have To” History)

April 19, 2019June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

Stuff You Don’t Really Want To Know (But For Some Reason Have To) About the Second Boer War

Three Big Things:

1. The Boers were descendants of Dutch, Germans, and Huguenots who settled the Cape of Good Hope in the mid-17th century. They were farmers and ranchers who believed they were among God’s most favored elect.

2. There were two distinct wars between the Boers and the British – the Boers won the first using superior horsemanship and marksmanship. The British won the second by having way more soldiers than the Boers.

3. The Boer resorted to guerilla warfare; the British responded with “scorched earth” tactics and concentration camps for Boer women and children, where thousands died of hunger, disease, and neglect.

Background & The Great Trek

In 1652, the Cape of Good Hope was colonized by the Dutch, including a group of farmers referred to as “Boers.” They were everything you’d expect from gritty, self-reliant farmers who shared a strong faith and traditional lifestyle.

Great Britain eventually took control of the Cape. They were anti-slavery, anti-Calvinist, and anti-speaking Dutch. As a result, nearly 15,000 Boers moved northeastward as part of “The Great Trek.” As they’d migrated, the Boers, also called “Afrikaners,” enslaved or otherwise marginalized the rather sparse native (and black) African population and soon considered themselves very much the “real” citizens who deserved to be there, as opposed to the (British) interlopers who eventually followed and with whom they continued to clash.

The Boer Republics

By the 1850s, the Boer had established two independent republics in southeastern Africa – The Transvaal (aka “The South African Republic”) and the Orange Free State. These republics instituted apartheid – strict segregation and discrimination, enforced by law as well as social custom. For a decade or two, it seemed they might just be left alone.

In the late 1860s, however, diamonds were discovered in Transvaal. The resulting rush of Uitlanders – “outlanders” – soon outnumbered the locals and began demanding greater political participation and basic protections. Factions rose up and clashed, tensions increased, and eventually things erupted in the First Boer War (1880 – 1881). The British were caught off-guard by Boer marksmanship and tactics; the brief conflict became Great Britain’s first military defeat since 1783. Transvaal (aka “the South African Republic”) secured its independence, at least temporarily.

Tensions Renewed

In 1886, a substantial gold deposit was discovered in Transvaal. The Boer had by that time learned the role mineral wealth could play in maintaining their independence and took full advantage. By 1890, South Africa was the largest source of gold in the world. They became major players in the international monetary system and invested heavily in the neighboring Orange Free State and other Boer communities, throwing a rather expensive wrench into Great Britain’s longsuffering desire to eventually unify South Africa under British rule.

Nevertheless, with so much gold came more Uitlanders – ambitious individuals as well as foreign companies with the resources and know-how to manage difficult extraction. The Transvaal government made it difficult for newcomers to vote or otherwise fully participate in society, which didn’t bother those only interested in quick profits but antagonized the British to their ideological cores.

Conveniently for future history students, the complexities of Anglo-Boer relations coalesced at this point into two colorful personalities. Representing Transvaal was President Paul Kruger, a Boer nationalist whose street cred went all the way back to the Great Trek. Flying the Union Jack was Cecil Rhodes, Premier of the Cape Colony and founder of DeBeer Diamonds. You’ve probably seen that political cartoon of him standing spread-legged across Africa – claiming the continent for Queen, country, and white culture everywhere. He’s also why there’s a “Rhodes Scholarship,” which allows deserving youngsters of solid occidental backgrounds to attend his alma mater, Oxford University.

Rhodes recognized that if Transvaal’s prosperity was allowed to continue, they’d soon be in a position to push Great Britain out of South Africa entirely. He helped put together a plan to stir up an Uitlander revolt – a debacle which became known as the Jameson Raid, so titled because it was to be led by Dr. Leander Starr Jameson (a name only slightly less awesome than “Orange Free State”). The revolution was slated for late December, 1895.

Poor communications, disputes among Uitlander leaders, and the preference of many to celebrate the New Year instead of overthrowing “the man” sabotaged the plan from the outset. Rhodes and his co-conspirators tried to call off Jameson’s invasion, but the raiding party had somehow cut their own communications instead of Transvaal’s, so while the Boer were kept well-informed of what was happening, Jameson was not. His party was captured on January 2nd and sentenced to death, soon reduced to fines and severe embarrassment.

The Jameson Raid reinforced to the Boer the importance of sticking together – supporting one another while constraining the Uitlanders. Tensions continued to build for several more years and eventually the British resorted to a more traditional approach and began building up troops along the border. In October of 1899, President Paul Kruger issued an ultimatum demanding they withdraw.

They didn’t.

Transvaal and the Orange Free State declared war on the British.

The Second Boer War, aka “The Anglo-Boer War” or “The South African War” (1899 – 1902)

For the first several months, things unfolded very much like they had in the first war, but on a larger scale. The Boer struck and retreated, blending into their surroundings. They used horses to maximum advantage and shot with what must have seemed impossible accuracy. They occupied key cities and drove back the British at almost every confrontation. Had they pressed their advantage aggressively, it’s possible they could have ended the war by Christmas.

But the Boer weren’t looking to destroy the British, or even to take back the Cape. They wanted to be left alone, and when given the opportunity to conduct total war, preferred to lay siege to entrenched towns or otherwise dial back the death and violence. Surely the British were learning their lesson, and perhaps this time it would stick.

The British had learned from their previous encounters – but not the lessons the Boer hoped. They remembered an embarrassing military loss followed by feeling disrespected and marginalized by a bunch of farmers with weird accents. This time Great Britain brought in reinforcements – lots of them. They made some strategic adjustments as well, but like the North in the American Civil War, they didn’t have to win every battle or rethink every maneuver if they could consistently outnumber and overwhelm their opposition.

Which they did.

By the end of 1900, the British controlled most Boer territory and officially annexed both Transvaal and the Orange Free State. This should have been the end of hostilities, but many Boers still refused to surrender. Thus began a new phase of the war – two years of guerilla warfare and raids. The Afrikaners vandalized railroads, cut telegraph lines, and otherwise harassed British forces endlessly. They struck and then vanished, never allowing their opponents security or peace, but avoiding open conflict whenever possible.

The Brits strung barbed wire, established military checkpoints, and otherwise struggled to contain the guerillas. When these proved unsuccessful, they initiated a “scorched earth” policy – burning fields, destroying towns, and killing livestock which could conceivably be used to support the rebels. They fortified their supply storehouses and put heavy armor on their trains. Boer civilians – women and children as well as men of all ages – were gathered into concentration camps, where thousands died of disease, starvation, and neglect.

It’s not entirely clear whether such brutality towards the wives and children of those fighting was part of a “total war” strategy or the tragic result of poor management and conflicting priorities. In might have been retaliation for the suffering endured by cities previously besieged by the Boers, or merely reflected the harsh realities of the times. Disease killed more fighting men than bullets, and even back in mother England, over a third of those volunteering for military service were rejected for various health-related issues.

Black Africans suspected of helping the Boers were placed in separate camps, where conditions were even worse – if such a thing were possible. Both Brits and Boers desired that this be a “white man’s war,” but separating such a thing from the people in and around it proved impossible. While some Africans found ways to profit from wartime conditions, many others lost jobs, homes, and lands as a result of the conflict.

The Anglo’s perceived brutality severely damaged their standing in the eyes of the rest of the world as well as provoking outrage and protests back home. The war became increasingly unpopular as it continued to drag on, prompting the British to offer increasingly generous terms to the guerillas. Those determined to fight to the bitter end became known as Bittereinders (I’m not even making that up), while those who accepted reconciliation were labeled Hensoppers – literally, “hands-uppers.”

If nothing else, the Boer wars gave us arguably the most fascinating vocabulary list in all of world history curriculum.

Aftermath

By May of 1902, it was over. Citizens of both Transvaal and the Orange Free State voted to accept the terms of the most recent British peace offer, the Treaty of Vereeniging. The former republics were absorbed into the British Empire which promised them some degree of self-government – a promise they delivered by creating the Union of South Africa in 1910.

Bitterness remained between the Boers and their English-speaking neighbors, and racial divisions between both groups and Black Africans would get worse before they got better. Apartheid shaped much of the 20th century until its abolition in the 1990s, and the Afrikaners throughout have retained their own language and culture. There are today around 2.6 million Boers – over half the white population of South Africa. Some are still fighting for separate recognition.