Makandal walks into a plantation dance he did not organise

Moreau de Saint Mery recorded that the slaves of the Dufresne plantation at Limbe in northern Saint Domingue had assembled a large calenda, a dance, and that Makandal, by then accustomed to a long impunity, came and joined it. Makandal was the escaped slave made famous in 1758 by his reputation as a magician and a maker of poisons, and by the network he ran across the northern plain before the colony burned him. The detail matters for what it shows about method. The dance was an assembly, one of the few settings where people from different plantations could stand together, and a leader who wanted to reach them had to enter the space they already had and speak the language used there. Colonial ordinances banned the calenda repeatedly, on the stated grounds of indecency and the real grounds of numbers, and masters found the ban nearly impossible to enforce.

Dessalines was born into slavery at Duclos in the north on 20 September 1758 and took the name of the free black man who later owned him. He rose through the war as a field commander rather than a diplomat, and that difference decided everything about 1804. Toussaint negotiated with France for autonomy inside the French system. Dessalines concluded that no arrangement with France was survivable and declared independence outright on the first of January 1804. He then ordered the killing of the remaining French population, wrote white land ownership out of the constitution, and crowned himself Emperor. He was assassinated in 1806 by people who had fought beside him. Haiti spent the next century deciding whether he was the founder or the warning, and the honest answer is that the country has never fully settled it.

Mocombe presents Makandal as an oungan from Guinea who turned religious authority into a weapon of war. Working at night, he and his followers burned estates, killed owners and, over roughly six years, poisoned as many as six thousand whites. The French captured him in 1758 and executed him publicly in the square of Cap-Francais, present day Cap-Haitien. The article treats the choice of a public square as deliberate: the colony needed spectators, because Makandal's power rested on the belief among the enslaved that he could not be killed. Mocombe places this in a wider argument that marronage was the most persistent form of refusal, and that maroons in the mountains were not simply fleeing but rebuilding African forms of production, worship and authority from which raids on the plains could be launched.

Geggus offers what he calls a minimum tally of about a hundred and eighty incidents of slave rebellion and conspiracy across the Americas, and argues that the 1790s stand out as the period of peak intensity, with 1795 possibly unique for the number of separate incidents in different societies. His appendix lists Curaçao twice in January and August of that year alongside Coro, Pointe Coupée in Louisiana, Nassau, Puerto Principe, Aguadilla, Demerara, Aruba, Buenos Aires, Trinidad, Bayamo and Samaná. He notes that the rough parity between Brazil with twenty-seven incidents and the United States with twenty-five is probably an artefact of the American supply of local newspapers rather than of slave behaviour. Only the 1811 rising in the Louisiana territory mobilised more than a hundred slaves in North America, while the West Indies and Guianas produced at least eight or nine risings of a thousand or more. Where this account departs from the standard one: Geggus rejects Eugene Genovese's schema in which the French Revolution produced a new revolutionary type of slave uprising superseding earlier restorationist ones, on the ground that Genovese never supplied a plausible example of the new type.