The Spanish and Portuguese and their American territories saw the disembarkation of almost two-thirds of all the enslaved carried from Africa. They were the first colonizers of the Atlantic and chose those areas that were best for obtaining slaves and putting them to work in the Americas. Almost every port large enough to launch a transoceanic voyage at some point entered the slave trade. Rio de Janeiro and Bahia (now Salvador) dispatched more vessels to Africa than did any European port, and overall sent out more voyages than did Europe. Thus the typical slave-trading voyage was not triangular, but rather bilateral. The Americas were the center of the slave trade because of their millennia-long isolation from the rest of the world, the inability of their Indigenous populations to resist Old World pathogens, and the very high land–labor ratios that resulted. Voyages to Africa from the Americas were quicker than those from Europe and the plantations and mines quickly generated a pool of investors willing to underpin the slave trade. In Brazil, especially, these small investors included free and enslaved Blacks, including even some enslaved crew. Close to half the merchandise traded for slaves came to be produced in the Americas rather than in Europe.

The effects of sanctions have been extensively studied in both the political science and economic literature, but with little appreciation of their consequences for third countries and the firms in these countries. This is an important oversight, given that secondary sanctions have the stated objective of holding third countries not party to the original sanctions regime to account for their actions. This chapter surveys the economic theory behind the possible effects of sanctions on firms in third countries and then extends this to the specific case of secondary sanctions. Looking at the US sanctions regimes on Cuba and Iran, and using the scarce empirical evidence available, this chapter concludes that secondary sanctions are likely to amplify the effect of sanctions. However, their effects will depend on the particular firm, the overall trading relationship between the third party and the sanctioned party, and the relationship between the firm and the sanctioning country.

A few years into the post-Cold War era, the adoption by the US of sanctions legislation geared to penalise foreign firms investing in countries under Washington’s sanctions elicited resistance from European allies, which coalesced into an unusually unified response by the EU. This response notably combined elements from the Community trade toolbox and that of the répertoire of the Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP). In the event, a negotiated solution to the conflict could be reached. However, secondary sanctions resurfaced some fifteen years into the new millennium, most conspicuously in the framework of the settlement of the Iran nuclear proliferation crisis, pitting Brussels and Washington again. Notably, the use of secondary sanctions after Trump administration’s withdrawal from the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action threatened its survival altogether, jeopardising a key CFSP goal. This chapter explains the background to the current political conflict over secondary sanctions, illuminates the political dynamics that inform it, presents the tools developed for addressing the dilemma they pose to the EU and assesses recent developments.

Chapter 5 turns to the law in action and the politics of litigation involving adjudication and interpretations of the law. The chapter opens with an examination of the Council of the Indies’ initial judgment in September 1784 on the plaintiffs’ case. Based on a narrow reading of slave law and on pro-slavery policies, the ruling rejected the plaintiffs’ controversial claim to collective freedom and to the criteria of freedom presented by the plaintiffs’ brief but allowed hearings to determine ambiguous cases and stipulated the criteria to be utilized by colonial courts in those cases. The ruling gave way to a cascade of hearings and legal actions in lower-level colonial courts and to a conflict of interpretation over the imperial ruling. Ordinary enslaved and fugitive cobreros dispersed throughout the island became direct participants in the judicial arena at this point as they directly engaged in the politics of litigation for freedom in colonial courts. The chapter shows the way imperial and colonial authorities centralized and controlled judicial outcomes but also the room for maneuvering available in some cases.

Chapter 7 deals with the violence unfolding at the local level and with the cobreros’ extrajudicial forms of mobilization in tandem with legal actions. Here the story of legal action merges with one of extrajudicial actions such as fugitivity and more violent action and shows how judicial and extrajudicial actions were entangled with each other. Cosme’s letters from Madrid also provided legitimacy to the cobreros’ extrajudicial actions by directly informing the community that the king’s edicts favored their freedom. Factoring into the escalating threat of violence and political conflict on the ground was the broader Atlantic context of revolution in Saint Domingue and war with the British during the 1790s. Imperial designs in this period seem to conflict with colonial ones in a triangulation of conflict that included the cobreros’ actions.

In this chapter, we examine the evolving definition of sex tourism. Through a comprehensive literature review focusing on Latin America and the Caribbean, we assess the long history of commodified sex and travel and the difficulties in defining the practice as exclusive to heterosexual men purchasing sex or as a phenomenon exclusive to the Global South. A case study of Havana, Cuba, contributes to a deeper understanding of how colonial cities benefitted from commodified sex connected to travellers and racialized bodies. In analyzing the scholarship on sex tourism, we appreciate the heterogeneity of arrangements, identities, ambiguity, and fluidity of relationships. Both hosts and guests are looking for opportunities to enhance their lives and to challenge the gender, sexual, and racial dictates of their society. Tourist-related intimacies, therefore, are used for personal and familial gains and mobility in the global political economy. The findings reveal that while some studies have adopted narrow definitions, a more comprehensive approach argues for understanding sex tourism as part of a spectrum of intimate encounters that combine sex and money, encompassing everything from marriage to sex work.

This chapter shifts to undesirable men and disreputable expressions of masculinity, depicting the world of pimps and traffickers from the perspective of the migration paradigm. With examples that span the United States, Uruguay, Argentina, Cuba, and Mexico, I show how anti-trafficking and anti-prostitution discourse, in addition to articulating gendered ideas about sexual respectability and normative migration patterns, employed equally moralistic concepts to distinguish honest labor from illegitimate work. Some traffickers sought upward social mobility by engaging with both the licit and illicit economies of their destination countries, while for others, pimping and trafficking was the logical extension of a longer criminal history, shirking work discipline, and refusing the responsibilities of family and nation. French men were central to a broader story of migrant criminality in the Americas, namely through their participation in the sex trade.

This chapter reveals how ideological notions of French decadence, US sexual restraint, and Cuban moral regeneration shaped immigration law and anti-trafficking protocols. Undercover investigations and social scientific studies discovered a flood of European women, especially from France, migrating for work in prostitution. The same studies described the erotic cachet afforded to Frenchness, the global marketing of vice, and what exactly French women offered for sale. According to US and Cuban reformers, a debased European morality promoted these “undesirable” migrations. This premise bolstered exclusionary legislation passed in both countries, barring suspected prostitutes from crossing the border, along with traffickers and pimps. Thus the desire for undesirable women – and not the protection of trafficking victims – motivated immigration reform.

In the search for a Cuban road to socialism, those advocating a gradualist and pragmatic approach clashed with Che Guevara and his supporters, who called for a radical and voluntarist development strategy. While criticized by Cuba’s Soviet and Eastern Bloc allies, Che’s radical economic ideas, which dominated Cuban policy by 1968, were shaped by North Korea’s example as well as its material support. North Korea appeared to show a tested path through which a small country emerging from colonialism and underdevelopment could transform rapidly into a modern, industrialized, socialist republic. The Cuban–North Korean ideological encounter reflected a broader discourse taking place within the international Left at the time reflecting disillusionment with the Soviet Union and the appeal of alternative models of socialism from the global South. As an ideological consensus between Cuba and North Korea solidified in the 1960s, the two governments became principal defenders of voluntarist economics within the socialist world, in resistance to the dominant trend towards “market socialism.” This partnership was given its most vibrant expression in the 1970 sugar harvest, Cuba’s pivotal experiment in voluntarist economics, in which North Korea participated directly.

By early 1965, new dynamics were taking shape within the international communist movement. Cuba and North Korea were at the forefront of this challenge. Relations between the two countries date back to the Korean War, when many Cubans, like young people across Latin America, mobilized to prevent their countries from joining the US-led war effort. When the Cuban Revolution of 1959 brought the island into the socialist camp, a bond began to grow between the Cuban and North Korean leaderships reflective of their shared history of anti-colonial struggle, and their common interests as small countries within a community of socialist states dominated by the Soviet Union and China. Political, cultural, and economic cooperation between Havana and Pyongyang grew steadily, including Che’s historic visit to North Korea in December 1960. By 1965, a nascent Third Worldist tendency affirming its independence from the two major socialist powers was coalescing around North Korea, Cuba, and North Vietnam. At its core was the conviction that it was those on the frontlines of the anti-imperialist struggle which most clearly recognized the true historic task at hand: the defeat of US imperialism.

Cuba’s shift to a more pragmatic and Soviet-aligned foreign policy in the early 1970s had major implications for its relationship with North Korea. Moreover, it influenced radical changes in North Korea’s own foreign policy. Pyongyang announced the “era of chajusŏng” (independence) and an apparent new faith in what could be achieved through peaceful diplomacy, multilateralism, and non-alignment. Key events influencing these shifts were the de-escalation of the Vietnam War, the defeat of the Latin American insurgencies of the 1960s, Nixon’s troop withdrawal from South Korea, Sino-US rapprochement, and the growing power of the Third World in the United Nations General Assembly. As both North Korea and Cuba adapted to a rapidly changing international environment in the early 1970s, the basis for their special partnership dissolved. Cuba and Vietnam moved closer to the Soviet Union, and North Korea reconciled with China, while repositioning itself as a member of the non-aligned Third World. The possibility that the militant Third Worldism of the Tricontinental Conference might grow and coalesce to constitute a real force in global politics appeared to fade away with the 1960s.