Corporations “cannot commit treason, nor be outlawed [nor] excommunicate[d],
for they have no souls.” — Sir Edward Coke, 1552-1634.
The late English jurist's words are appropriate here. I do not know
of many corporations demonstrating soulful behaviour, but then I do not
know a lot of things. I do know, however, that history should never be
trivialised by reducing it to a corporation's commercialised bottom line.
Alas, history reminds us that sometimes an individual captain's view
of maritime law can be so twisted and evil that it deteriorates into a
kind of corporation-of-human-damnation begging for mutineers to take it
down. For example, most of us know that in April 1789, Fletcher Christian,
HMS Bounty's first mate, led a successful mutiny against the ship's
captain, William Bligh.
Bligh's heartlessness and demonic cruelty were rivalled only by his
expert seamanship: when Christian and his fellow mutineers set Bligh and
18 non-mutinous members of the ship's company adrift in an open boat, Bligh
sailed that little boat 5822km and landed in Timor, in June. Later, some
of the mutineers were captured, taken back to England and court-martialed;
three of them were executed. Those more fortunate mutineers who stayed
with Christian sailed to Pitcairn Island and burned the Bounty.
I felt the need to revisit these events because of a photograph I saw
recently. It was taken at a portion of Sydney Harbour during the Olympic
games. It showed a replica of the Bounty secured at a wharf. It
was a magnificent sight — except for one thing. The vessel's mainmast,
which was square rigged with its sail unfurled, was holding up a huge Fila
logo.
Obviously, the shoe and clothing manufacturer has an interest in the
construction of the vessel, but to have displayed that interest at that
time and place was an insult to the original ship's history, as well as
to the men who lived, died and sailed aboard it, not to mention the spirit
of the Olympic games.
Another portion of history reveals that in July 1839, off the northern
coast of Cuba, the Portuguese schooner La Amistad's cargo consisted
of “53 Africans (49 adult males, three girls, and one boy)”. They had been
captured near Sierra Leone, in April. Seeking to avoid prosecution for
breaking international law, the ship's captain ordered those Africans to
be smuggled onto the island at night. They were sold to Spaniards Jose
Ruiz and Pedro Montes.
After being smuggled back aboard the ship, they began their journey
anew. Four days out to sea, en route to Puerto Principe, in July 1839,
the captives were allowed out of the ship's hold. While on deck, during
a period of exercise, Joseph Cinque, the leader of the captives, found
a nail and smuggled it below.
With that nail Cinque and the rest forced open their chains and shackles.
They seized cane-knives and their rebellion resumed in earnest. The ship's
captain, cook and 10 Africans were killed.
The ship was eventually seized by a US revenue cutter off the coast
of Long Island. It was then towed to New London, and the Africans were
imprisoned for a time.
The Africans took their case to court. They were represented by the
famed John Quincy Adams. They were tried for piracy and murder in the state
of Connecticut. The US Supreme Court ruled that the 53 Africans had been
illegally enslaved, and, against President Martin Van Buren's wishes to
return them to the two Cubans, ordered the 43 who had survived to be set
free.
According to Africana, the Encyclopaedia of the African and African
American Experience, “only 35 of the original 53 Africans survived
to board the ship Gentleman” that sailed them home.
Slavery may well be the world's first multinational corporation.
On March 25, 2000, a replica of the Amistad was launched. Her
captain, African-American Bill Pinkney, said that it was a “mighty, mighty
day”. I agree. I hope that we will never see the logo of FUBU, the African-American
hip-hop clothing manufacturer, emblazoned across its square-rigged topsail.
BY BRANDON ASTOR JONES
[The writer is a prisoner on death row in the United States. He welcomes
letters commenting on his columns (include your name and full return address
on the envelope, or prison authorities may refuse to deliver it). He can
be written to at: Brandon Astor Jones, EF-122216, G3-77, Georgia Diagnostic
& Classification Prison, PO Box 3877, Jackson, GA 30233, USA, or email
<BrandonAstorJones@hotmail.com>.
Jones is seeking a publisher for his autobiography, Growing Down.
Please notify him of any possible leads. Visit Jones' web page at <http://www.BrandonAstorJones.com>.]
