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Britain, Germany and
Colonial Violence in
South-West Africa, 1884–1919
The Herero and Nama Genocide

Mads Bomholt Nielsen

Cambridge Imperial and Post-Colonial Studies

Series Editors
Richard Drayton
Department of History
King’s College London
London, UK

Saul Dubow
Magdalene College
University of Cambridge
Cambridge, UK
The Cambridge Imperial and Post-Colonial Studies series is a well-­
established collection of over 100 volumes focussing on empires in world
history and on the societies and cultures that emerged from, and chal-
lenged, colonial rule. The collection includes transnational, comparative
and connective studies, as well as works addressing the ways in which par-
ticular regions or nations interact with global forces. In its formative years,
the series focused on the British Empire and Commonwealth, but there is
now no imperial system, period of human history or part of the world that
lies outside of its compass. While we particularly welcome the first mono-
graphs of young researchers, we also seek major studies by more senior
scholars, and welcome collections of essays with a strong thematic focus
that help to set new research agendas. As well as history, the series includes
work on politics, economics, culture, archaeology, literature, science, art,
medicine, and war. Our aim is to collect the most exciting new scholarship
on world history and to make this available to a broad scholarly readership
in a timely manner.

More information about this series at

https://link.springer.com/bookseries/13937
 Mads Bomholt Nielsen

Britain, Germany and

Colonial Violence in
South-West Africa,
1884–1919
The Herero and Nama Genocide
Mads Bomholt Nielsen
Ministry of Higher Education and Science
Copenhagen, Denmark

ISSN 2635-1633     ISSN 2635-1641 (electronic)

Cambridge Imperial and Post-Colonial Studies
ISBN 978-3-030-94560-2    ISBN 978-3-030-94561-9 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-94561-9

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer
Nature Switzerland AG 2022
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of
translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on
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electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now
known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this
publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are
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The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
 Map of German South West Africa

Picture 1 Map of South West Africa with tribal lands and German Presence,
1890, National Archives of Namibia, Blue Book Draft, ADM 255
 Acknowledgements

This book is the culmination of a long journey. When I moved to London

in 2012 to do an MA at King’s College London, I was able to expand on
my interest in British and German colonial history with the support of
Richard Drayton and Francisco Bethencourt—who would both eventually
supervise my PhD dissertation. I owe them both my gratitude for seeing
potential in me and for expertly helping to turn my rather incoherent ideas
into something sensible. My PhD dissertation was eventually examined by
Chris Clark and Saul Dubow who also gave me wonderful advice on where
to improve (and perhaps most importantly, revise) the dissertation. After
my PhD, I moved back to the University of Copenhagen as a Postdoc,
where I was lucky enough to be mentored by Stuart Ward. I wish to thank
Stuart for always taking the time to give me advice and pushing me when
I needed it.
Being funded by the Carlsberg Foundation for another project, which
overlaps with the preparation of this book, I was able to visit archives
around the world and conduct research—of which much has gone into
this book. Of all the funding bodies that are providing vital financial sup-
port for early career scholars, the Carlsberg Foundation has proven to be
an incredibly generous and understanding support. I owe them my grati-
tude. Several people have also helped in the preparation of the book. The
team at Palgrave: Lucy Kidwell and Raghupathy Kalyanaraman have both
shown great patience and understanding in what it is, writing a book dur-
ing a pandemic and working from home. The anonymous reviewers also
deserve credit for their in-depth and constructive feedback, which helped
shape the book and clarify its purpose and scope.

vii
viii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

On a personal level, this book could not have been completed without
the support of friends and family. My parents who always supported and
believed in me were crucial in helping me through my years as a PhD stu-
dent in London. Among my close friends, Ali Adjorlu, Christian Weber
and Henry James Evans have proven to be the most loyal and understand-
ing friends. I must especially commend their ability to take work com-
pletely off my mind and for lending an attentive ear for whenever I vented
my frustrations. Parts of the book were written in the company of my
friend and colleague, Thomas Storgaard, during our ‘writing sessions’
which provided the most productive, focused and stringently organized
work environment one could imagine. I must also express my gratitude to
my friend, Daniel Steinbach. Daniel provided feedback and comments on
early drafts and gave me advice on how to improve the book in terms of
content, style and, above all, structure. Discussing the writing process
(and the affairs of the world) with Daniel while strolling through parks or
sitting at a café have lifted the quality of the book immensely and made the
writing itself more enjoyable.
Finally, there are two people I must thank above everyone else: my son
August and my wife Anna. The patience and unyielding support they have
given in the process of completing this book cannot be understated. I am
grateful for every minute of wonderful distraction they both have given
me. Had they not, writing this book would have been immensely more
difficult. This book is therefore dedicated to them both—not so much for
its ominous topic, but for the effort that has been put into writing it.
 Contents

1 Introduction  1

2 Colonial Violence in Southern Africa at the Turn of the

Twentieth Century 15

3 Imperial Cooperation and Anglo-German Diplomacy 43

4 Concerns and Non-Cooperation 71

5 Case 609: African Refugees in British Territory 93

6 Knowledge and Reactions121

7 Atrocity Narratives and the End of German Colonialism,

1918–19153

8 Conclusion193

Cited Works203

Index225

ix
 Abbreviations

A.B.I.R Anglo-Belgian-India Rubber

APS Aborigines’ Protection Society
BAB Bundesarchiv (Lichterfelde, Germany)
CAB Cabinet Papers
CMP Cape Mounted Police
CO Colonial Office
FO Foreign Office
GSWA German South West Africa
NAN National Archives of Namibia (Windhoek)
PMC Permanent Mandates Commission
NASA National Archives of South Africa (Pretoria)
SCC Special Criminals Court
SWA South West Africa
TNA The National Archives (Kew, United Kingdom)
WNLA Witwatersrand Native Labour Agency
WO War Office

xi
 CHAPTER 1

Introduction

Speaking in the House of Lords on 3 July 1919—less than a week after

Germany signed the Treaty of Versailles—Lord Curzon, Leader of the
House of Lords, proclaimed the treaty to be ‘the end of a tragic chapter in
the history of the world’. Germany’s defeat was not only the downfall of a
nation, but of the ‘Prussian character, which is incompatible with good
government and the ordered progress of the world’. One of the stains of
this Prussian character on the world was the German colonial empire,
which had ‘a record of force and fraud and ruthless disregard for the inter-
est of the native people’. Indeed, ‘German rule’, Curzon asserted, ‘was
characterised by almost undeviating harshness, and in some cases revolting
cruelty. Under this system, vast areas of territory were depopulated. Some
tribes, like the wretched Herero’s in South-West Africa, were literally
exterminated.’ The ‘absolutely overwhelming’ evidence of German bru-
tality and violence, he declared, meant that the ‘13-14,000,000 dark-­
skinned men’ in the German colonies, ‘could not be abandoned’.1
Colonial violence was at the crux of the British and dominion campaign
to end German colonialism during the Paris peace conference after World
War I. Equipped with reports and evidence of German colonial misrule
and ‘wishes of natives’ to be under British rule, the British and dominion
governments successfully portrayed the confiscation of Germany’s colo-
nies as an act of humanitarian interventionism.2 The most influential and

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

Switzerland AG 2022
M. Bomholt Nielsen, Britain, Germany and Colonial Violence in
South-West Africa, 1884–1919, Cambridge Imperial and Post-
Colonial Studies, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-94561-9_1
2 M. BOMHOLT NIELSEN

renowned piece of evidence presented on German colonial violence was

the 1918 Foreign Office Blue Book, entitled Report on the Natives of
South-West Africa and their Treatment by Germany. Compiled after the
South African invasion of German South West Africa (GSWA) in 1915,
the report—conventionally referred to as ‘the Blue Book’—provided a
detailed account of German atrocities against the Herero and Nama, espe-
cially during the rebellions of 1903–8.3 German counter-insurgency dur-
ing these rebellions notably involved the use of concentration camps and
orders for the outright extermination of Africans. Approximately eighty
per cent of the Herero population and fifty per cent of the Nama popula-
tion perished in what is generally agreed to be the first genocide of the
twentieth century. This violence, the Blue Book concluded, should ‘con-
vince the most confirmed sceptic of the unsuitability of the Germans to
control natives, and show him what can be expected if the unfortunate
natives are ever again handed back to their former regime’.4
The Blue Book indicated that Britain was unaware of the violence in
GSWA before the 1915 invasion.5 Indeed, if Britain had been aware of the
violence at the time it occurred, any association, involvement or failure to
protest would significantly undermine attempts to confiscate German col-
onies on the grounds of violence and misrule. Yet, before 1914, Britain
and South African authorities were not just aware of the violence in GSWA,
but had cooperated with the Germans on a number of occasions. Moreover,
the extensive colonial borders and the trans-nationality of colonial regions,
where Africans, traders and information, for example, crossed the borders
relatively freely, meant that knowledge of the atrocities was widespread.
Above all, the placing of British military attachés with German forces in
GSWA from February 1905 meant that the British government was in
possession of detailed reports on the violence while it actually occurred.6
The fact that no official protest against German colonial violence and mis-
rule was launched until 1918 is indicative of the intricate links between
colonial violence on the one hand and politics and diplomacy on the other.
Indeed, the different international, imperial and diplomatic contexts of
1903–8 and 1918–19 respectively, were determining factors in how colo-
nial violence was presented to suit specific aims and interests. Thus, the
post-war denunciation of German colonialism intentionally obscured the
underlying and deeper level of interaction that existed during the Herero
and Nama rebellions.
This book concerns what can ostensibly be called ‘the British factor’ in
German colonial violence in GSWA. Through the eyes of British and Cape
 1 INTRODUCTION 3

statesmen, officials and colonial officers, it examines British and South

African (Cape Colony until 1910 and hereafter the Union of South Africa)
perspectives on, and involvement in, German colonial violence in GSWA
until the end of German colonialism in 1919. The book thus revolves
around two basic questions: How did a neighbouring colonial power react
to and perceive colonial violence and atrocities such as those committed
by Germany against the Herero and Nama? Further, what factors deter-
mined the different reactions, views and policies taken by the neighbour-
ing colonial power? In considering colonial violence in a trans-imperial
light, which accounts for both metropolitan and colonial contexts (whereas
trans-colonialism concerns the latter), this book attempts to show that
histories of colonial violence cannot be contained within nationally demar-
cated colonial borders. Instead, it occurred in a context in which other
colonial powers were involved either directly or indirectly. This occurred
on several levels that transcended the immediate space where colonial vio-
lence was perpetrated as the atrocities in GSWA were, for instance, per-
ceived and responded to by Britain in the context of European, imperial
and colonial considerations.
The intention of this book is to connect the developing scholarship on
colonial violence to broader historical themes of political, diplomatic and
imperial histories. A recurring problem with the scholarship on colonial
violence is arguably that it remains compartmentalised in nationally
deduced colonial empires. This book thus sets out to challenge this com-
partmentalisation of the colonial world, telling the story of German colo-
nial violence through the eyes of its colonial neighbour. Surprisingly few
studies of colonial violence move beyond the confines of German, French
or even British colonial histories. Instead, comparisons are widespread—in
particular, colonial violence is deemed ‘softer’ in British colonial history
than that perpetrated as part of Belgian or indeed German colonialism,
serving, as Kim Wagner has noted, to perpetuate narratives of British
exceptionalism as a particularly benign colonial power. However, brutal
and racialised colonial violence was as much a feature of British imperial-
ism as it was of German colonialism.7 Such casual comparisons or juxtapo-
sitions, though, are intended for inward elucidation: to either distinguish
a specific colonial type or make histories of colonial violence normative in
a nationally compartmentalised colonial historiography. Indeed, like impe-
rial history as a whole, it is characteristic of colonial violence as a sub-­
theme that the links between empires have not been as thoroughly examined
as those within empires.8
4 M. BOMHOLT NIELSEN

Despite criticism of the pervasive notion of Britain as a more benign

and ‘soft’ colonial power than others, the image still prevails in the ‘empire
debate’ and historically, with British statesmen and the public generally
conceiving of Britain as the most enlightened colonial power.9 This self-­
identification derives from the humanitarianism that emerged out of the
abolitionist movement in the late eighteenth century. Humanitarian dis-
course remained a central ideology of empire in Britain, sustaining both its
moral and legal basis.10 After the abolition of the slave trade in 1807 and
slavery in 1833, humanitarianism remained a key ideology and it was con-
stantly re-invented by influential lobby groups such as the Aborigines’
Protection Society or the Congo Reform Association which publicly pro-
tested against colonial mistreatment and violence.11 For the British gov-
ernment, humanitarian discourses were widespread within Whitehall and
anti-slavery remained a ‘blessed word’ in the Colonial Office because of its
central position as a view of British government officials, politicians and
the general public and because, by the mid-nineteenth century, it had,
according to Andrew Porter, become a ‘vital component of Britain’s
national and imperial identity’.12 Within this humanitarian discourse was
an inherent revisionist agenda towards the institution of empire, in which
moral standards, often reduced to notions of development, civilisation and
anti-slavery, were embedded as justifications for colonial rule. In other
words, seemingly benign views became a driving force for imperial
expansion.
Such moral expectancy, however, did not align with the oppressive
nature of colonial rule. At the crux of the moral underpinnings of imperi-
alism was a contradiction between the humanitarian expectancy of empire
and its violent reality.13 Furthermore, pervasive humanitarian notions also
put colonial rule ‘on trial’ and facilitated criticism of mistreatment and
violence.14 As Alice Conklin has shown in the context of French West
Africa, the civilising ideals colonial states were expected to uphold, did not
align with the widespread practices of coercion and forced labour in the
colonies. To overcome this clear contradiction, each situation could be
amended and explained. Thus, while coercion was seemingly morally inex-
cusable, forced labour was claimed to ‘improve’ colonial subjects, prevent-
ing natural racial ‘degeneration’.15 Humanitarianism was therefore not
necessarily the opposite of biological racial determinism. Rather, racial
attitudes were embedded in the discourse of ‘civilising’ and ‘protection’.
Crucially, humanitarianism remained a key context in which colonial vio-
lence was construed and reacted to. It was a widespread moral norm
 1 INTRODUCTION 5

associated with the purpose and justification of empire; meaning, that

when Germany so overtly violated the humanitarian expectancy in colo-
nial rule, this discourse formed a central backdrop in which reports, state-
ments and information on violence were read.
While the image of more benign British colonisers remains, German
colonialism has long been correctly associated with excessive violence and
brutality, not only in GSWA but also in other colonies such as German
East Africa, where the character and cruelty of Carl Peters—‘the German
Rhodes’—and his Deutsch Ostafrikanische Gesellschaft (German East Africa
Company) epitomised colonial oppression and violence.16 Peters and his
followers have been described as cultivating ‘a cult of violence’ in which
Africans were degraded—treated like animals and used as forced labourers,
with blatant racial ideology directing the establishment of German colo-
nial rule.17 Furthermore, German military forces also brutally suppressed
two major colonial wars—the Wahehe rebellion (1891–8) and Maji Maji
rebellion (1905–7). In the latter, the main German aim was to punish the
rebels and prevent future rebellions, leading to excessive use of violence
and corporal punishment.18 The suppression of the Herero and Nama
rebellions in GSWA, however, is arguably the most noteworthy example of
German colonial violence. The German government acknowledged it as a
genocide on 28 May 2021 after years of pressure from scholars and activ-
ists and negotiations with the Namibian government. GSWA, therefore,
remains the most prominent example because of the widespread belief that
the genocide against the Herero and Nama constituted a precursor or
‘testing ground’ for the Holocaust. The use of concentration camps, med-
ical experiments on prisoners and the overt racism characterising this
genocide presents a clear imagery of parallels and comparisons to the
Holocaust and has led to a rekindled ‘colonial Sonderweg’, with the roots
of Nazism supposedly found in Namibia.19 Such view is of course deriving
Hannah Arendt’s and Aimé Césaire’s respective stipulation that colonial
methods of oppression ‘boomeranged’ and instigated total war and totali-
tarianism in Europe.20 This has had significant consequences on the histo-
riographical context in which German colonial violence in GSWA is
currently understood. The towering shadow of the Holocaust functions as
an end-point, whereby history is perceived retrospectively and contained
within German national history.21 Not only is such a perspective reductive,
it also points to German historical exceptionalism in terms of violence and
genocide, applying both to German national and colonial history.22 This
stands in contrast to the intensive entanglements and connections of
6 M. BOMHOLT NIELSEN

colonial spheres—drawing connections with the Holocaust, whether

intentionally or unintentionally, mainly serves to obscure the colonial con-
text. Consequently, as Reinhart Kössler noted, if GSWA remains transfixed
in a trajectory leading up to the Holocaust, ‘the overall question of colo-
nialism is easily lost sight of’.23
It is tempting to approach German colonial violence in GSWA from a
British perspective for a number of reasons: there is a strong empirical
basis for such an approach as extensive numbers of sources relating to
German colonial violence can be found in British and South African
archives. Geographically, the colonial borders between GSWA and the
Cape and Bechuanaland Protectorate were zones of interaction between
the colonial powers and African groups. The constant puncturing of the
colonial borders meant that violence and rebellion in one colony affected
stability and everyday lives in the other. While colonial violence in GSWA
occurred in a local regional trans-colonial context, it also appeared on
broader, international and trans-imperial levels. Diplomatically, GSWA
was a central part of the colonial rivalry between Britain and Germany,
which was more intense in Southern Africa than anywhere else except
Europe. Furthermore, as has already been alluded to, German colonial
violence was central to British diplomatic interests in 1918. On an imperial
level, the stance towards Germany’s suppression of the Herero and Nama
rebellions was constantly negotiated by the British and Cape governments,
with consideration given to their respective interests and viewpoints.
Where the British government was driven by diplomatic considerations,
the Cape was concerned about its security. Politically, Britain’s insistence
on its moral superiority, as reiterated in the Blue Book in 1918, may well
have been significant in shaping the notion of Britain as a ‘soft colonial
power’, as lamented by Wagner and others. Indeed, at the time, colonial
violence had a notable metropolitan aspect in relation to how public and
international opinion reacted, as was apparent during the Congo crisis of
1903–8, when public demands for intervention against King Leopold II’s
atrocious Red Rubber regime in the Congo were imperative for the trans-
fer of administration to the Belgian state in 1908. Colonial violence and
the reactions of the British government to it were therefore profoundly
political.
The notion of German colonialism as exceptionally cruel and violent
was in part the result of Britain’s denunciation after World War I. Andreas
Eckl meticulously set out the correlation between the arguments of the
Blue Book and Horst Drechsler’s influential Let Us Die Fighting (1966).24
 1 INTRODUCTION 7

In other words, the origin of German colonialism as exceptionally brutal

was most likely the Blue Book of 1918, which, despite its relatively accu-
rate description of German colonial violence, represented propaganda
with outright imperial and diplomatic intentions.25 At the crux of the
notion of German colonial exceptionalism, therefore, lies a profound
British factor, which changed according to shifting contexts in Europe and
Africa and at different times—even when the violence in question
had ended.

Trans-colonialism in Anglo-German Southern Africa

Understanding the colonial world in context of nationally defined empires
resonates with the foundations of history as a modern discipline, intended
to delineate the nation states of nineteenth-century Europe. L.H Gann
and Peter Duignan described their series on ‘the rulers of Africa’ as ‘paral-
lel studies’ and had each volume neatly divided into, among others,
‘British’, ‘German’ and ‘Belgian’ colonial histories thus perpetuating
national borders in the colonial world.26 Such demarcation has obscured
transnational and trans-imperial patterns in history and led to compart-
mentalisation first between nations and then empires.27 In Southern Africa,
the local trans-colonial entanglements across the Cape and GSWA borders
have been difficult to examine because of the pervasive national historiog-
raphies of South Africa and Namibia.28 In the case of the British imperial
system, John Darwin has shown that this cannot be seen as a historical
polity in itself because of its fragmentation by local sub-imperial agents
acting in accordance with their own, locally based, interests and because of
the external influences that profoundly shaped British imperial power
overseas.29 The notion of trans-colonialism therefore reiterates an under-
standing of the colonial world as one linked across borders and spheres
and in which Europe was not some external or indeed exceptional history
promoting a dichotomy of ‘centre’ and ‘periphery’.30
Recently, new scholarship has emerged dedicated to examining the
interactions and entanglements of colonial histories.31 This complicates
prevailing understandings of European colonial empires in Africa and else-
where as disconnected extensions of the nation-state—an idea often form-
ing the unintended perspective in several volumes, particularly those with
comparative approaches.32 Instead of seeing German colonial violence in
GSWA as part of German national history, where there is often a tendency
to consider it as a precursor to the Holocaust, this book emphasises the
8 M. BOMHOLT NIELSEN

trans-colonial and international context. At the same time, however, it

remains important not to inflate colonial connections and inter-imperial
histories. Indeed, while it is necessary to challenge rigid and nationally
defined compartmentalisations, we should not completely abandon the
notion of separate spheres of influence in the colonial world. Although
notions of cooperation and shared experiences are useful to determine the
interactions between colonial powers, these risk obscuring elements of
estrangement, rivalry and provocation.
With the advent of global history, it has been established that imperial
power and decision-making were not the prerogative of the imperial gov-
ernment in London, but a cumulative response spanning imperial and
trans-imperial networks.33 Global history’s focus on connections, as Simon
Potter and Jonathan Saha have asserted, ‘can assist us in overcoming the
long-standing but often misleading tendency to examine the British
Empire as a singular, hermetically-sealed world system’.34 The same is true
of the German colonial empire, in which the colonial Sonderweg has func-
tioned as a form of compartmentalisation because it rests on the premise
of the Holocaust as a profoundly German national history.35 Although
there is a tendency within global history to emphasise subalterns and his-
tory from below, this should not remove the necessity to understand polit-
ical history—mainly belonging to the imperial and colonial elites—from
such perspectives. Indeed, European international history—particularly
relating to Anglo-German relations—has been shaped and informed by
colonial affairs in the context of trans-imperial interactions. While the
global turn in the history of the British Empire has been successful in
breaking a London-centred view and acknowledging external influences,
much less attention has been paid to the connections between colonial
empires than those within.36
In the colonial world, Anglo-German entanglements were profound.
Even before Germany formally acquired colonial possessions, the British
Empire hosted German emigrants and groups espousing visions of a
German colonial community.37 Settlers, missionaries and indigenous
groups, while formally affiliated with a specified colony controlled by a
European nation, roamed relatively freely across the colonial landscape
with little regard for colonial borders. Thus, colonial borders were not
rigid demarcations of colonial or national sovereignty but should be con-
sidered sites of interactions and also sites of fragility where colonial rule
was at its weakest and contested by cross-border movements, in which
 1 INTRODUCTION 9

colonial powers in turn attempted to exert control by means of violence.38

As we shall see, the colonial borderlands were key to interactions between
German, Cape and British actors but also for Africans in resisting German
colonial rule because many escaped to British or Cape territory either as
refugees or to prevent their pursuit by German troops.
Several historians have characterised Anglo-German colonial relations
and interactions in Southern Africa as defined by a ‘racial solidarity.’
Cooperation between the colonial powers in holding down Africans
amounted to what Drechsler called a ‘sharing of the white man’s bur-
den’.39 More recently, and arguably more persuasively, Ulrike Lindner
claimed that, in Africa, Britain and Germany were involved in a ‘shared
colonial project’. Although this project also amounted to ‘the white man’s
burden [being] equally shared among the colonial powers’, Lindner cor-
rectly reiterates the centrality of estrangement and rivalry in inter-imperial
relations and indicates that these are not opposed to cooperation. Indeed,
as she correctly observes, a complicated Spannungsfeld (‘zone of tension’)
existed between cooperation and rivalry, meaning that the terms were not
mutually exclusive but rather co-existed.40 British and German colonialism
in Southern Africa was therefore intrinsically linked and common ground
existed in wishing to ensure the maintenance of colonial rule over Africans.
It is the intention that this book will complement (rather than disprove)
the work done by Lindner and others on the shared histories of British and
German colonialism. This book adds to understandings of the notion of
imperial cooperation, focusing on the complexities and difficulties placed
on a neighbouring colonial power in the context of a colonial ‘small war’.
In focusing on a Cape and British perspective, it becomes clear that impe-
rial cooperation, deriving from sharing of the white man’s burden, is
essentially an oversimplification of the deeply ambiguous and multi-­faceted
history of colonial and imperial entanglements in Europe and
Southern Africa.
Indeed, there are few indications in British and South African-based
sources of any detailed or sympathetic policy towards the German sup-
pression of the Herero and Nama rebellions deriving from racist convic-
tions. That is not to say that there were no underlying racial prejudices
informing British or South African actors—merely that racial solidarity
alone did not necessarily mean intensive cooperation. Instead, the notion
of sharing the white man’s burden arguably derives from German sources
as the Germans in GSWA continuously sought to win British and Cape
10 M. BOMHOLT NIELSEN

support in the borderlands and hand over refugees. The British and Cape
authorities were essentially forced into a difficult situation requiring care-
ful management in accordance with their own interests. These rarely
amounted to notions of racial solidarity and were by their nature sporadic
and haphazard as there was never any established policy or directive on
how to react to German colonial violence in GSWA. The only consistency
in their involvement was a desire to ‘walk on eggshells’ and not to provoke
Boers, Germans or Africans. Perhaps most importantly, in addition to
imperial cooperation, non-cooperation—the active decision not to sup-
port the Germans—definitively shaped British involvement in German
colonial violence in GSWA.
Understanding the interactions and entanglements between the colo-
nial powers in the colonies themselves rather than from a metropolitan
perspective in London or Berlin is useful to fully comprehend the com-
plexities inherent in such relations. Indeed, although the period before
1914 was characterised by increasing Anglo-German antagonism, rela-
tions in the colonial ‘periphery’ were different, as Britain and Germany
collaborated on a number of cases. Britain’s involvement in GSWA and
collaboration with the German Schutztruppe (protection force) may there-
fore be indicative of a shared colonial project that occurred separately to
the deteriorating diplomatic relations in Europe. However, this is too
absolute and inconsistent with the ambiguous way in which British actors
in London and South Africa acted during the rebellion and genocide in
GSWA. Tilman Dedering, for instance, has shown how different interests
and agendas of metropolitan and colonial actors shaped Britain’s involve-
ment in GSWA, forced upon them by African cross-border mobility in
particular.41 As such, while notions of racial solidarity were indeed influen-
tial in motivating cooperation between colonial powers, they tend to flat-
ten the imperial, diplomatic and political contexts and reduce colonial rule
to a predominantly if not exclusively racial endeavour. Any involvement or
expression of views on the part of Britain and the Cape did not therefore
emanate from a racially motivated shared project but from British and
Cape interests and security. This led to an ambiguous and multi-faceted
British involvement in German colonial violence, whereby cooperation
co-existed with non-cooperation and stringent handling of information in
accordance with shifting diplomatic contexts.
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 Fig. 37

It is said that the Indians boiled these berries, and then thought
them very good to eat.
If we were lost in the woods, and obliged to live upon the plants
about us, I dare say we should eat, and perhaps enjoy eating, many
things which now seem quite impossible; but until this happens I
advise you not to experiment with strange leaves and roots and
berries. Every little while one reads of the death of some child as the
result of eating a poisonous plant.

Fig. 38

The next picture (Fig. 38) shows you the fruit of Solomon’s seal.
These dark-blue berries hang from beneath the leafy stem, just as
the little flowers hung their yellow heads last May.
Next come the speckled red berries of the false Solomon’s seal
(Fig. 39), a big cousin of the smaller plant. As you see, this bears its
fruit quite differently, all in a cluster at the upper part of the stem.
These two plants seem to be great chums, constantly growing side
by side.
We have been so busy and so happy that the morning has flown,
and now we must be finding our way home to dinner; for, unlike the
birds, we are not satisfied to dine on berries alone.

Fig. 39

At almost every step we long to stop and look at some new plant
in fruit; for, now that we have learned how to look for them, berries of
different sorts seem thick on every side.

Fig. 40
 Fig. 41

Low at our feet are the red ones of the wintergreen (Fig. 40).
On taller plants grow the odd white ones, with blackish spots, of
the white baneberry (Fig. 41), or the red ones of the red baneberry.
Still higher glisten the dark, glass-like clusters of the spikenard.

Fig. 42

Along the lane are glowing barberries (Fig. 42) and thorns bright
with their “haws” (for the fruit of the thorn is called a “haw”). These
look something like little apples.
Here, too, is the black alder, studded with its red, waxy beads. But
we must hurry on, not stopping by the way. And you can be sure that
those birds we hear chirruping above us are glad enough to be left to
finish their dinner in peace.
 WHY SEEDS TRAVEL

A T last I think we all understand that by the red of the apple, the
purple of the plum, and the different colors worn by the berries
we find in the woods, these plants are inviting us, and the birds also,
to eat their fruit, and so release from prison their little seeds.
But what would happen, do you suppose, if no one should accept
this invitation? What would become of their seeds if these pears and
apples and berries were not eaten by boys and girls and birds?
Most of this question you can answer for yourselves.
If you leave the apple on the tree, after a time it falls off upon the
ground; and unless picked up, there it lies till it decays. In the
orchard every fall you see apples decaying on the ground. In a little
while the fleshy part disappears, and the little seeds are thus let out
of prison without help.
But many plants are not satisfied to leave their seeds so near
home. Why is this, do you suppose?
Well, this is quite a long story.
All plants of the same kind need just the same sort of food. If too
many apple trees grow together, they soon use up all the apple-tree
food in the neighborhood.
So if a seed is to grow into a strong, hearty, well-fed plant, it ought
to begin life in some place not already full of plants in search of just
the food that it needs for itself.
If a plant or tree makes its fruit so good to eat that some boy or girl
or bird is likely to pick it, the chances are that it will be carried at
least a short distance before its seeds are dropped upon the ground.
Once in a while a plant is rewarded for its pains by having its
young carried thousands of miles.
Think how far from its home the peach has traveled. As I told you
before, it comes to us from Persia.
 Now, if the Persian peach tree had not made its fruit very juicy and
delicious, it is not likely that any one would have taken the trouble to
bring its seeds way over here to us.
But this peach being what it is, one of the most delicious of fruits,
the tree was rewarded for its pains by having its children taken
where they were petted, and made much of, and had things all their
own way; for no other peach trees were on hand to do their best to
crowd them out.
Then think of the little partridge berry. The fleshy part of this the
birds eat and digest. But the little seeds pass unharmed from the
bird’s stomach to the earth, sometimes many miles from the woods
where they were born.
What is true of the peach and of the partridge berry is true of many
other fruits.
Without the help of man or bird or beast, these little seeds could at
last get out of their seed cases; but without such help, often they
could not get the start in life they need.
So it would seem as if a fruit’s bright color and delicious flavor
were saying to us not only, “Come and eat us and set our seeds
free,” but also, “and carry us far away, so that we may have a fair
chance in the world.”
 SOME LITTLE TRAMPS

Fig. 43

W HEN I came home from that walk in the woods the other day, it
took me some time to rid my clothes of many odd-looking little
things, such as you see in the picture above (Fig. 43).
This round burr (Fig. 44) was one of the worst of my hangers-on.
You know it quite well. It is the fruit of the burdock. Can some child
tell me why I call this prickly burr a fruit?

Fig. 44

Now let us look carefully at this seed case or fruit of the burdock.
Instead of being smooth to the touch, like some other fruits we
know, such as the apple and the pear, it is covered with stiff hooks.
By these hooks it fastened itself so firmly to my clothes, that it was
difficult to pull it off without making a tear.
Why does the burdock put its seeds into such a prickly case?
Please stop reading for a moment and try to answer this question.
Cudgel well your brains for the use of such a prickly seed case as
that of the burdock plant.
 Now I am hoping that one of you children will be able to think out
some such answer as this:—
“Of course, the burdock plant doesn’t want its seeds to fall on the
piece of ground that has been used up already by other burdocks,
any more than the partridge vine wishes to drop its seeds in the
same little hollow where other partridge vines have eaten all the
good food. As this burdock plant cannot make its seed case so bright
and pretty, and good to eat, that the birds will carry it off, it must
manage in some other way to send its seeds on their travels. And
this is what it does: it covers the seed case with little hooks. When
the seeds inside are quite ripe, this case breaks off very easily. So
when the children come hunting berries, it hooks itself to their
clothes, or else it catches in the hair of their dogs, or takes hold of
the wool of grazing sheep, and gets carried quite a way before it is
picked or rubbed off. When that happens, it is far enough from its old
home to set up for itself.”
I should indeed be pleased if one of you children could give me
some such answer as that.
So you see this prickly seed case does just as much for its little
charges as the juicy apple and velvety peach do for theirs.
And the same thing is true of all those other hooked, or barbed, or
prickly little objects that I picked off my clothes the other day, and
that cling to you when you take a walk in the fall woods.
They are all fruits. They are the ripe seed cases of the different
plants.
But they are dull-looking, and often quite vexing, instead of being
pleasant to the sight and taste and touch.
This makes no difference, however, in their having things pretty
much their own way. We do not in the least want to carry abroad
these little torments, scattering far and wide their seeds, so that
another year there will be more burrs and barbs and bristles than
ever, to tear our clothes and worry our dogs; but they force us to do
them this service, whether we will or no, and never stop to say “By
your leave.”
 At every turn they are waiting for us. Where we climb the fence,
and cross the fields, and break through the woods, we can almost
fancy that we hear them whispering together, “Here they come! Now
is our chance!”
They remind us of those lazy tramps that lie along the railway,
getting on the trucks of passing trains, and stealing rides across the
country.
These ugly hooked fruits have one great advantage over the pretty
ones that are good to eat. They do not have to wait our pleasure. But
when we are most busy and hurried, without a moment to loiter in
the apple orchard or among the berry bushes, then, quite as well as,
if not better than, during our leisure moments, they lay hold upon us
with their tiny claws, and cling closely till we set to work to get rid of
them. When we pick them off and fling them to the ground, we are
doing just what they most wish.

Fig.
45

In this picture (Fig. 45) you see the seed case of the tick trefoil.
This plant belongs to the Pea family; and its fruit is really a pod,
something like that of the garden pea. But when this pod of the tick
trefoil is ripe, it splits into five little pieces. Each piece is a separate
seed case. This is covered with hooked hairs, by means of which it
fastens itself to our clothing and to the hair of animals, just as the
burr of the burdock did. These little seed cases go by the name of
“ticks.”
 Fig. 46

Here is the fruit of the stick-tight (Fig. 46). You see its two teeth
that are so well fitted to weave themselves into either cloth or hair.
Fig. 47 shows you a strange and terrible fruit of this same class. It
grows on an African plant, and may fasten itself so firmly into the hair
of animals, that the attempt to get it out is almost hopeless.
Sometimes an unfortunate lion will kill himself in his efforts to wrench
this tormenting seed case from his skin. In his struggles he gets it
into his mouth, and so dies.

Fig. 47

I am glad to say we have nothing so terrifying as this among our

hooked fruits.
Even if at times you are tempted to lose your patience with such
impertinent little tramps as they are, I think you can hardly help
admiring the clever way in which they manage to get a free ride.
 SEED SAILBOATS

O N your way to school these fall days, often you notice certain
white, silky things floating lazily through the air. Sometimes you
catch one of these little objects, and blow it away again with a
message to a friend. Or perhaps you wish upon it. At least, this is
what I did as a child. Life in those days was full of these mysterious
“wishes.” A white horse, a hay cart, the first star, a wandering thistle
down,—each promised the possible granting of one’s most secret
wish.
That the thistle down comes from the thistle plant, you know. But
not all the silky things that look like fairy sailboats are thistle down,
for many plants beside the thistle let loose these tiny air ships.
 Have you ever wondered where they come from, what they are
doing? Or do they seem to you so lazy, so drifting, so aimless, that
you doubt if they are going anywhere in particular, or have really
anything to do?
But by this time you have learned that plants have better reasons
for their actions than you had dreamed before you began to pay
them some attention. You have discovered that they dress their
flowers in gay colors so that the bees may be tempted to visit them
and powder them with golden dust. You have learned that they make
their fruits juicy and delicious so that boys and girls and birds may be
persuaded to carry off their seeds; and the better you know them,
the more certain you feel that they manage their affairs with much
common sense, that they are not likely to take time and trouble for
nothing.

Fig. 48

So let us look closely at some of these air ships, and try to guess
their errand.
I hope that some time ago you were told to get together as many
different kinds as you could find, and to bring them here this
morning.
 Fig. 49

In this picture you see some of the air ships of the milkweed (Fig.
49).
The lower part of Fig. 48 is a seedbox of the milkweed. To this are
fastened the silky threads which make the sail that carries the seed
through the air with the least wind, just as the canvas sail carries the
boat across the water.
Can you think of some other plants that send abroad seed
sailboats?
Perhaps some of you remember the beautiful pink or purple
flowers which grew last summer in tall spikes along the road and up
the mountain side. These were borne upon a plant called sometimes
fireweed and again willow herb (Fig. 50). The first name was given to
it because it grows freely in places that have been laid waste by fire.
The latter one it owes to its leaves, which look somewhat like those
of the willow.
 Fig. 50

Fig. 51

By the end of August most of these beautiful blossoms had

disappeared, leaving in their place the fruit. This fruit of the fireweed
or willow herb is a long pod such as you see in the picture (Fig. 51).
This pod is packed full of seeds, to each one of which is fastened a
silky sail. Finally all these pods split open, letting out their little air
ships (Fig. 52), and giving a beautiful, feathery look to the great
patches in which they are found.

Fig. 52
 Fig. 53

Fig. 54

Another plant which launches air ships is the clematis. In August

its pretty white blossoms clamber over the stone wall, and twist
about the bushes and trees, making the lanes very lovely. In the fall
this climber is almost as pretty as in summer, for its fruit clusters
(Fig. 53) are made of such long-tailed seeds as you see in Fig. 54.
When these open, and float away with the first light wind, you can
see how well their little sails are fitted to catch the breeze.

Fig. 55

Fig. 56

In October and November nearly every roadside is lined with

clusters such as you see in the next picture, except that the picture
cannot give their soft, velvety look. These are the fruit clusters of the
golden-rod (Fig. 55), made up of quantities of silky-tailed seeds such
as you see above (Fig. 56).
And this is the fruit cluster of the aster (Fig. 57). Each little puffball
is composed of many aster seeds (Fig. 58).

Fig. 57

Fig. 58

The pasture thistle is almost as beautiful in fruit as in flower. It

swells up into a great silvery cushion, which finally vanishes in a
cloud of floating thistle down.
And here is the fruit cluster of the dandelion (Fig. 59), and also a
single seed sailboat (Fig. 60).
Hundreds of other plants attach these little sails to their seeds.
You can hardly walk a step in the fall along the country roads without
meeting these masses of feathery fruit made up of just such seeds.
So now we come back to our questions, “Where are they going?
What are they doing?”
 Fig. 59

Fig. 60

And as you have learned why the apple tree and the partridge vine
pack their seeds in pretty cases, and why the burdock and the stick-
tight cover theirs with hooks and bristles, you ought to answer these
questions very easily. You found that those plants wished to send
their little seeds abroad, so that they might get a better foothold in
some piece of earth that was not used already by plants hungry for
the very food that they most needed.
This is just what the thistle and milkweed and dandelion and aster
want for their seeds; and this is why they fasten them to little sails,
and send them far away on a voyage of discovery.
 WINGED SEEDS

Fig. 61

M ANY of the trees also send their seeds on air voyages, in the
hope of finding some piece of land that will give them a chance
to grow into new, strong trees.
The seeds of the willow (Fig. 62) have silky white sails such as we
have found already in the plants of the milkweed and willow herb;
and the cottonwood tree is so called because its tufted seeds remind
one of the famous cotton seeds from which we get our cotton thread
(Fig. 63).

Fig. 62

There are other trees which use wings instead of sails when they
send their seeds flying through the air.
 Fig. 63

Here you have the winged fruits of the maple (Fig. 64). In summer
you see these winged fruits hanging in clusters from the trees; and
later in the year they are thickly scattered along the village street and
in the city squares.

Fig. 64

You can understand how easily the maple seeds inside these
cases would be carried upon the breeze by their wings.
Each seed of the elm tree is winged nearly all the way round. The
picture (Fig. 65) shows you a cluster of these as they look upon the
tree.
 Fig. 65

Fig. 66

Here is a bunch of the long-winged seeds of the ash (Fig. 66).

Next comes a fruit cluster from the hop hornbeam (Fig. 67), and
above is a single fruit (Fig. 68).