Written by Lipton Matthews.
Slave rebellions are often portrayed as eruptions of feeling born of unbearable misery, as though the enslaved masses rose from the depths of suffering in collective defiance. Yet this familiar portrayal obscures more than it informs. The most significant slave uprisings were initiated not by the most oppressed, but by those who occupied comparatively privileged positions within the slave hierarchy—drivers, domestics, artisans, preachers and even former African nobles. The limited influence to which these individuals had access did not quell their desire for freedom. It fostered the belief that they could attain something better. And what they did try to attain was often rather inegalitarian.
This dynamic mirrors broader revolutionary patterns. The French Revolution unfolded at a moment of rising expectations, not one of absolute deprivation. The same is true of the Russian Revolution, on the eve of which measured inequality was only “middling” by the standards of the era. Revolutions do not typically occur at the nadir of suffering, but rather when there is friction between current conditions and imagined futures. Slave resistance followed the same principle.
A detailed study of St. Croix in the Caribbean offers compelling evidence. It reveals that lower-status field laborers were not disproportionately represented among rebels, and that slaves in supervisory or skilled positions were just as likely to resist (even though planters described them more favorably and granted them better material conditions). Rather than instilling loyalty, the advantages enjoyed by the latter group sharpened the contrast between their servitude and the freedom for which they yearned. Those tasked with managing tools, accounting for goods, or conveying instructions between households developed broader networks than did laborers who were confined to the fields. Exposure to alternative ways of living, however faint, bred irritation at constraint rather than satisfaction with relative comfort.
Tacky’s Revolt of 1760 illustrates this clearly. Its leader, Tacky, had been a West African chief before his enslavement and relocation to Jamaica. Contemporary accounts suggest that his intention was not to abolish hierarchy but to seize control of it. He reportedly threatened to punish or even enslave those who refused to join him. His revolt did not represent a universal doctrine of freedom. It was an attempt to reassert authority in a new setting.
Further evidence that relative deprivation wasn’t a key factor comes from Brazil. Advertisements for runaway slaves reveal that fugitives were disproportionately drawn from the skilled and literate ranks. Carpenters, machinists, coopers, mechanics, tilers, and other skilled labourers were much more likely to flee than unskilled field hands. They moved through spaces where freedom existed within view. They had something to compare their condition against. And this proximity is what made their captivity intolerable.
Jamaica’s Christmas Rebellion of 1831, led by Sam Sharpe, provides yet another example. It unfolded during a period of Amelioration, when British policy compelled planters to improve conditions for their slaves. Paradoxically, improved treatment did not pacify those in bondage. Instead, it spurred agitation. Sam Sharpe was literate and active in Baptist religious life. He followed public arguments over abolition and came to believe that freedom had already been granted in principle. Planters, in his view, were withholding what was rightfully due. As one free coloured observer testified in 1832, it had become common before the revolt for slaves to declare that they were owed freedom and would no longer work without it. He explained that his own slaves refused to work, due to the rumours of freedom.
What is more, many slave rebellions did not pursue universal emancipation. Indeed, they were far less egalitarian. The St. John Revolt of 1733, organized by Akwamu slaves, aimed to exterminate the white population while retaining control over other blacks. In the Berbice Uprising of 1763, Cuffy, a cooper and domestic servant, proposed dividing the colony into two sections. He intended to govern one part as leader of a federation of African groups, while the other would remain a plantation economy under white control. Another leader, Atta, imagined a kingdom modeled on Akan political structures in which certain African groups would remain in subordinate roles. Freedom, in these visions, was by no means a universal right.
Even when rebellion remained at the level of conspiracy, social divisions were apparent. A foiled plot in Antigua exposed disagreements between African-born and creole slaves. The Africans appeared intent on the extermination of whites and establishing an authoritarian order that was familiar to them. However, creoles voiced reservations about a total break and may have even considered maintaining the enslavement of Africans under altered leadership. Internal fissures were nearly as great as external constraints.
Modern narratives often romanticize the enslaved as naturally inclined toward rebellion. Yet most did not take part in violent resistance. This should not be misread as acquiescence: many made calculated assessments of risk. Since planters possessed both firepower and legal impunity, to act rashly was to invite punishment—which was often meted out collectively.
Even the Haitian Revolution, frequently celebrated as a beacon for inspiring other slave populations, appears to have had more impact on free coloureds than on plantation labourers themselves. Those positioned for social ascent saw it as precedent, whereas those who were most vulnerable recognized the costs. Between 1776 and 1815, a period sometimes described as the “Age of Revolution”, the British Caribbean remained largely stable. Indeed, the absence of revolt reflected not contentment, but strategy.
Slave rebellions were not just spontaneous eruptions of pain. They were often deliberate ventures undertaken by individuals who possessed enough status to judge their condition unfair. The slaves who rebelled believed they were capable of more than their station allowed. Their struggles were not only against bondage, but also for position. To understand these uprisings is not to diminish the injustice of slavery. However, we shouldn’t mischaracterise them for the sake of political correctness.
Lipton Matthews is a research professional and YouTuber. His work has been featured by the Mises Institute and Chronicles. He is the author of The Corporate Myth. You can reach him at: lo_matthews@yahoo.com
Support Aporia with a paid subscription:
You can also follow us on Twitter.
“This dynamic mirrors broader revolutionary patterns. The French Revolution unfolded at a moment of rising expectations,…”
Humm, I seem to remember something similar here in the USA. Civil Rights Act of 1964 was followed by the worst race riots across the USA in 1967–all as barriers to equality were being lifted across the nation.