This book addresses emancipatory narratives from two main sites in the colonial world, the Indian and southern African subcontinents. Exploring how love and revolution interrelate, this volume is unique in drawing on theories of affect to interrogate histories of the political, thus linking love and revolution together. The chapters engage with the affinities of those who live with their colonial pasts: crises of expectations, colonial national convulsions, memories of anti-colonial solidarity, even shared radical libraries. It calls attention to the specific and singular way in which notions of 'love of the world' were born in a precise moment of anti-colonial struggle: a love of the world for which one would offer one's life, and for which there had been little precedent in the history of earlier revolutions. It thus offers new ways of understanding the shifts in global traditions of emancipation over two centuries.

A withdrawn, bookish boy called Bastian (Noah Hathaway), who fears his bullying schoolmates and an impending test, steals a mysterious book and reads it in the school attic. He is drawn into the fantasy to such an extent that it soon becomes clear he is the hero needed to save 'Fantasia' from destruction. Bastian's adventures include encounters with a range of magical creatures.

This book addresses emancipatory narratives from two main sites in the colonial world, the Indian and southern African subcontinents. Exploring how love and revolution interrelate, this volume is unique in drawing on theories of affect to interrogate histories of the political, thus linking love and revolution together. The chapters engage with the affinities of those who live with their colonial pasts: crises of expectations, colonial national convulsions, memories of anti-colonial solidarity, even shared radical libraries. It calls attention to the specific and singular way in which notions of 'love of the world' were born in a precise moment of anti-colonial struggle: a love of the world for which one would offer one's life, and for which there had been little precedent in the history of earlier revolutions. It thus offers new ways of understanding the shifts in global traditions of emancipation over two centuries.

Featuring some of the most iconic images of our time, this unique combination of photojournalism and commentary offers a probing and comprehensive exploration of the birth, evolution, and demise of apartheid in South Africa. Photographers played an important role in the documentation of apartheid, capturing the system's penetration of even the most mundane aspects of life in South Africa. Included in this vivid and compelling volume are works by photographers such as Eli Weinberg, Alf Khumalo, David Goldblatt, Peter Magubane, Ian Berry, and many others. Organized chronologically, it interweaves images and essays exploring the institutionalization of apartheid through the country's legal apparatus; the growing resistance in the 1950s; and the radicalization of the anti-apartheid movement within South Africa and, later, throughout the world. Finally, the book investigates the fall of apartheid, including Mandela's return from exile. Far-reaching and exhaustively researched, this important book features more than 60 years of powerful photographic material that forms part of the historical record of South Africa.

Going beyond photography as an isolated medium to engage larger questions and interlocking forms of expression and historical analysis, Ambivalent gathers a new generation of scholars based on the continent to offer an expansive frame for thinking about questions of photography and visibility in Africa. The volume presents African relationships with photography--and with visibility more generally--in ways that engage and disrupt the easy categories and genres that have characterized the field to date. Contributors pose new questions concerning the instability of the identity photograph in South Africa; ethnographic photographs as potential history; humanitarian discourse from the perspective of photographic survivors of atrocity photojournalism; the nuanced passage from studio to screen in postcolonial digital portraiture; and the burgeoning visual activism in West Africa. As the contributors show, photography is itself a historical subject: it involves arrangement, financing, posture, positioning, and other kinds of work that are otherwise invisible. By moving us outside the frame of the photograph itself, by refusing to accept the photograph as the last word, this book makes photography an engaging and important subject of historical investigation. Ambivalent's contributors bring photography into conversation with orality, travel writing, ritual, psychoanalysis, and politics, with new approaches to questions of race, time, and postcolonial and decolonial histories. Contributors: George Emeka Agbo, Isabelle de Rezende, Jung Ran Forte, Ingrid Masondo, Phindi Mnyaka, Okechukwu Nwafor, Vilho Shigwedha, Napandulwe Shiweda, Drew Thompson

War can hide many things but not everything, and a camera can see more than is supposed. The photographs in this title, taken from 1986 to 1990, show the 'Border War' where the chief antagonists were the South African Defence Force and Swapo, the South West Africa People's Organisation. John Liebenberg's camera entered many places where cameras were not allowed, and his photographs show much of what has remained hidden ever since. They show battles fought and life lived on both sides, regardless of the conflict. Then they take us into the tumultuous transition period when international forces entered the theatre of conflict, and finally to the aftermath in Namibia, when a fledgling nation was testing its wings and living with its ghosts. The photographic narrative is strongly augmented by the contextualising essay by historian Patricia Hayes, by transcripts of conversations between herself and Liebenberg as they worked through his archive, and by Liebenberg's own extended comments about most of the images. The title is material for historians and a valuable resource for photographers. But mostly it is a space of recall for those who were there, and a reminder for those who were not.