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Temporalities of ethnicity and race in Tunisia: Categories, self-organized groups, and interactions between political authorities and Black populations (19th to 21st centuries)

Inès Mrad Dali
Traduction de Yvonne van der Does (Office of International Scientific Visibility - IdEx Université Côte d’Azur)
Cet article est une traduction de :
Temporalités de l’ethnicité et de la race en terre tunisienne. Catégories, groupalités, et interactions du politique avec les populations noires (XIXe-XXIe siècles) [fr]

Résumé

Starting with a retrospective comparison between a recent period (2011-2024) and a more distant one (1840s-1880s), and analyzing similarities in the discourses and considerations of various actors across these different times, the article examines how officials managed and organized multiple ethnic or racial categorizations based on the socio-economic and political context. These contextual and temporal dimensions are essential to understanding the transformation from policies predominantly based on ethnicity and diversity to a tendency toward racial uniformity. The study also examines the semantic mutations consequently imposed on ethnic and racial identifiers.

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Notes de l’auteur

This article has received funding from the European Research Council under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation program (SlaveVoices, Grant Agreement ID: 819353).

Texte intégral

Introduction

  • 1 Tunisia was formerly known as Ifriquiyya and was considered the gateway to Africa, eventually lendi (...)
  • 2 For instance, the arrest on May 7, 2024, of Saadia Mosbah, president of the M’nemty association and (...)

1The Tunisian social and geographical space, both African1 and self-identified as “white” is home to multiple and “multi-colored” histories of migration (European, African, Arab, etc., voluntary and forced), of slavery (white and Black), and of confirmed or ascribed indigeneity. This makes it an ideal space for a heuristic investigation of concepts of ethnicity and race, both expressed in this country by the term ’irq. Considering the latest Tunisian policies for managing African migration and the recent crackdown on local anti-racism advocates,2 there is an urgent need for deeper investigation and analysis by the social sciences into the institutional and political dynamics surrounding the socio-political constructs of race in North Africa.

2Since the 2010s, a growing number of migrants from Côte d’Ivoire, Cameroon, Senegal, Niger, and Mali, among other countries, have settled for varying periods in Tunisia. Most of the time, the country is considered a springboard to Europe, as confirmed by the presence of major local human trafficking networks operating in its coastal areas. These migrations can be explained by the socio-economic conditions and the conflicts raging in the migrants’ countries of origin and in Libya. They are also the result of European agendas and policies, as well as more or less tacit agreements with Tunisia. Lastly, they may also stem from Tunisia’s perceived attractiveness to these populations until recently, as an open, economically vibrant, and democratically promising country in the aftermath of the 2011 uprising.

  • 3 At a Security Council meeting, the President of the Tunisian Republic referred to all migrants of s (...)
  • 4 This is a clear instance of “racialized oppression,” in the sense of a specific moment in which exp (...)

3The President, in a declaration made in Tunis on February 21, 2023,3 accused sub-Saharan migrants of undermining the country's demographic composition and dismissed any African affiliation, claiming Tunisia to be exclusively Arab-Muslim. This declaration marked the beginning of a deliberate process of racialization4 of the country, imposing the idea of foreignness to explain and frame the Black phenotype. Under the pretense of fighting illegal migration, the Presidents statement implied a notion of purity in the Tunisian “demographic composition,” disregarding the presence of a significant national or indigenous component. This vision began to take hold among the country’s loudest voices, particularly in the local media and among deputies. It established the idea of a deep boundary between Blacks and whites, Africans and Arabs, in a country that had, until then, considered itself—vaguely but peacefully—part of both geo-cultural spheres, without necessarily perceiving them as opposed. This declaration immediately unleashed a wave of unlawful violence against Black migrants and non-migrants alike.

4The current rise of anti-Black racism is not unique to Tunisia. Many other countries around the Mediterranean have similarly been affected by the consequences of European closed-border policies. In each of these contexts, one can observe how a particular history of relations between groups identified by their origin shapes the ways in which individuals with a Black phenotype are perceived, categorized, and marginalized (Steiff-Fénart 2025).

Background and approach

  • 5 In this article, the qualifier “Black” is used to describe individuals socially perceived—both hist (...)

5In Tunisia, the history of the Black presence5 and of migrations between the North and sub-Saharan Africa was, until recently, poorly understood or explained exclusively through the lens of slavery. However, migratory movements did occur. At the end of the 19th century, sub-Saharan migrants arrived and mixed with the already-established Black population, which included descendants of freed individuals as well as Tunisian-born groups, called Shuāshīn. The uniform perception today of all migrants according to a single phenotypic appearance—despite their diverse African national and ethnic identities—is not new.

6After the abolition of slavery in 1846, the Regency experienced a period of economic depression from the 1860s onward, which disrupted its community-based, multiculturalist social and fiscal organization. Whereas previously the distinct features of the different communities had been recognized and thereby preserved, a new mode of “identity reductionism” emerged. This led to the absorption of cultural and ethnic differences into a simplified racial binary. Whether in response to economic and taxation imperatives, or under the pretense of a “war of liberation” as claimed today, individuals and groups were subjected to putative racial ascriptions and differential treatment. Power dynamics between the affected groups changed to reflect this redefinition of identities in binary and reductionist terms.

7To elucidate the workings and underlying causes of these recurring reifications in Tunisian history, the article first examines how, in both a recent period (2011-2023) and an earlier one (1840-1880), socio-economic and political developments influenced perceptions of Self and Other. It investigates how political authorities managed and organized multiple ethnic, racial, or national categorizations, and how those targeted by these classifications—or their representatives—resisted the imposition of binary and reductive racial categories.

8Starting from situations in Tunisian society in which multiple groups of social actors—and varied motivations for their activism—can be observed, the study identifies the turning points at which these groups became repressed or disappeared. This approach offers a circumstantial and relational understanding of ethnic and racial categories—one that reflects less a fixed reality than the representations constructed around it. This analysis aligns with Rogers Brubaker’s (2006) argument that both ethnicization and racialized oppression are the result of political, social, cultural, and psychological processes that help us understand groupness as a “contextually fluctuating conceptual variable.”

  • 6 We use “self-organized group” (Groupalité in French) to describe a primary, internally driven inten (...)
  • 7 This refers to the phenomenon in which a previously “independent” ethnic group becomes attached or (...)

9While emphasizing from the onset the cognitive and utilitarian dimensions of the categories of race and ethnicity, the aim here is not to define or evaluate whether these categories accurately correspond to the groups they represent, but rather to understand the relationships between them in practical use. The focus is therefore on the concrete and rhetorical uses of these categories. Based on a situational analysis of their usage, the article seeks to understand what, in different historical contexts, differentiates a racial category from a self-organized ethnic group,6 and to identify the circumstances in which they coexist—and those in which one comes to replace the other—either creating new groups with distinct ethnic traits, or leading to processes of “ethno-fusion” (or “ethno-grafting”),7 or to the crystallization of racial categories.

10Our research and observations focus on interactions, in line with Fredrick Barth’s (1969) approach, which provide valuable insights into the issues at stake in the Tunisian context. This approach not only asserts that boundaries can exist without any substantial cultural differences, but also places the emphasis on interactions between individuals, since it is precisely in these encounters that the processes of ascription and identification that construct cultures and identities are enacted.

11The article first examines the recent context (2011-2023) in which various forms of “Black” self-organized groups express themselves through civil society activism, and particularly in the way their identities expand and branch out, even when perceived as satellites of a single phenotypic identity. By analyzing how they have been viewed by political entrepreneurs in recent decades, the study shows that such self-organized groups can, at specific moments, be dismissed, silenced, or even persecuted.

12The second part of the article focuses on the period from 1840 to 1880, exploring how Black ethnic individuals and groups present in the Regency of Tunis, facing politico-fiscal maneuvers and local or even colonial considerations, developed discourses and (self)-perceptions that in times of crisis proved strikingly “out of step” with each other.

Period of deployment and period of extinction of diversity

  • 8 As one of the first positive outcomes of the collective struggle waged since 2011, Tunisia began to (...)

13In a Tunisian society, which over the past decade has openly aspired to the permanent eradication of all forms of humiliation linked to phenotypic appearance and foreignness, the legacy of slavery and servitude—along with the persistence of latent discrimination—had to be denounced. While racist acts and speech against Black people continued to occur in everyday life in Tunisia, after the 2011 uprising they were nevertheless officially condemned and fought with great strength (Mrad Dali 2015). Led and widely supported by many members of civil and political society, these condemnations contributed to a form of social therapy that was beginning to bear fruit.8

  • 9 Tunisia abolished slavery in 1846, ahead of other Arab-Muslim countries and two years before France (...)

14Black Tunisians were among those who most actively contributed to these movements during the “democratic transition” of 2011-2023, expressing their indignation and rejection of a society that tolerated disturbing racist acts. Their strong presence in associations and on the political and intellectual scene significantly contributed to raising collective awareness and initiating new social movements. These were created sometimes in response to prevailing social perceptions of Black people, or because of heightened legal and political sensitivity to issues of racial violence, or even within literary and academic circles. These movements criticized and fought racial discrimination, demanding a new, more equal society, one fully aware and respectful of the country’s diversity, and more in line with Tunisia’s relatively early abolitionist history.9 Until recently, in spite of a sensitive context marked by increasingly racist attacks and extreme political—and parliamentary—statements on the subject since the spring of 2023, this militancy was known for the strength and boldness of its positions. This lasted until Saadia Mosbah, a leading figure in this struggle, was arrested for her role as president of M’nemty (lit. “My Dream”), a major association fighting racism.

  • 10 Some male public figures could have played an important role in the anti-racist movement but did no (...)
  • 11 These activists include Christiane Taubira and Rokhaya Diallo, whom some Tunisian women activists m (...)

15Since 2011, this strong female figure, along with many other Black Tunisian women,10 such as the late Jamila Ksiksi or Maha Abdelhamid, has been recognized for her commitment against racial discrimination (Mrad Dali 2024). In the context of intense national upheaval following the January 14 uprising and the drafting of the constitution of the Second Tunisian Republic, they published articles, issued denunciations, founded and led associations such as ADAM and M’nemty. While each maintaining her own discourse and ideas, these women forged connections with anti-racist, feminist, and pan-Africanist associations and activists in the Middle East, Europe, Latin America, and North America.11 They also remained attuned to international events in defense of “Black causes,” which they regarded as important sources of inspiration and comparison. These relationships contributed to networks that were also useful to what they experienced and considered as singular causes.

  • 12 Cf. Mariem Guellouz, “The construction of ‘Tunisianity’ through sociolinguistics practices from the (...)

16What is particularly remarkable is that, despite their forceful criticism of Tunisian society and its perceived identity flaws (Trabelsi 2024), they nevertheless asserted and upheld their “Tunisianity”12 from the outset of their protest. Alongside their ties with other activists and movements abroad, they consistently maintained a political discourse attuned to the local political and cultural context, and to Tunisian history. This movement, which emerged after 2011, represented a new paradigm within the Arab-Muslim and African world. These women, whose demands were encouraged by the new socio-political configurations (Pouessel 2012), developed a nuanced discourse that reflected above all their “sense of belonging to the nation,” while also affirming, when necessary, their place within a distinct group with a “distant” identity. Thus, while emphasizing the need to maintain and preserve “Tunisian unity” above all else, they also advocated—as Saadia Mosbahs did—for “a colorful Tunisia”:

I can’t say it often enough: I don’t want to see my country in BLACK and WHITE; I want to see the colors of the rainbow in my son’s eyes!

Signed: Yours truly and truly Tunisian,

Saadia Bent Mabrouk Mosbah13

17The emphasis on a plurality of identities and colors—of which they were proud—was presented both as a reality to be acknowledged and as a model for society to strive toward on a national scale. The diversity they embodied (women of various skin tones, from both the south and the north of the country; sympathizers of the Islamist movement or of the secular left, etc.) was framed in contrast to a black-white polarity or binarity conception, which would have amounted to racial acceptance and needed to be rejected for its inherently divisive nature.

  • 14 Jamila Ksiksi was a Black member of parliament representing the Ennahdha party (from which she resi (...)
  • 15 After Jamila Ksiksi’s death in December 2022, the initiative she helped lead was revived and became (...)

18By asserting these innovative claims, they also gained a measure of recognition and legitimacy on a broader regional scale. These women, with the help of former MP and activist Jamila Ksiksi,14 were notably the driving force behind the creation of the MENA network that promoted anti-racism across various countries of the Middle East and North Africa.15

  • 16 Al-Ambar [ambergris] is a precious natural substance used in traditional Tunisian jewelry. It is va (...)
  • 17 Ahmed Bey published the first abolitionist decree on January 23, 1846. However, it was only under t (...)

19These developments, along with the experience accumulated over nearly a decade, led some branches of the movement to diversify their objectives and “specialize” in certain areas. For example, AMBAR,16 a resolutely Black feminist movement, was officially founded on January 23, 2020, the anniversary of the first official commemoration of the abolition of slavery by the Tunisian state.17 This movement, soon renamed Voix des Femmes Tunisiennes Noires (VFTN), aimed to work for and advocate on behalf of the specific condition of Black Tunisian women, viewed as intersectional subjects largely overlooked by traditional “white” Tunisian feminists. Even though, since independence in 1956, the latter had gained the necessary political legitimacy to act in favor of all.

20However, the platform of the VFTN movement was not limited to women’s issues. The scope of its action was clearly illustrated in the open letter sent on February 25, 2023, by one of its co-founders, Maha Abdelhamid, to the President of the Republic of Tunisia, in response to his accusatory and stigmatizing statement about sub-Saharan migrants. In this letter, she thanked the migrants for exposing the violent reality of racism that had been concealed by the authorities. In contrast to rhetoric that draws a racial line between Arab/Muslim/white Tunisians and African/Black immigrants, she argued that the latter were part of Tunisian society and highlighted their role in revealing the persistent racism within it.

  • 18 The activists shared photo portraits of themselves holding their Tunisian passports and national id (...)
  • 19 https://www.facebook.com/VFTN20/videos/1141498353214085/

21The surge of civil and police violence against migrants—and additional abuses suffered by Black Tunisians in the wake of these events—also gave rise to a humorous yet alarmed campaign organized by a large number of Black activists and citizens.18 The feminist collective later organized a webinar entitled “Is migration a right or a curse?” which featured speakers who were both male and female academics and specialists.19

  • 20 Since February 2023, AESAT’s press releases have tended to focus exclusively on students’ rights, s (...)
  • 21 Beyond the indisputable reality of their strong roots in the country, this vocal self-identificatio (...)

22Over the years, and up to 2023, the Black anti-racism movement did not experience internal divisions, but it branched out into groups with specific emphases in terms of identity and priorities. For instance, the group of feminist activists behind the Voix de Femmes Tunisiennes Noires (VFTN) movement focused on their dual Tunisian and feminine identity, while also responding to local and international events. Other activists, operating within associations linked to international organizations and donors, advocated on behalf of all marginalized Black populations. This was the case for M’nemty, the anti-racism association mentioned above, whose broader scope of action—prior to the February 2023 crisis—encompassed both Black Tunisians and sub-Saharan migrants, and which refused to adopt the gender-specific stance of the VFTN. Another branch, the Association des Étudiants et Stagiaires Africains en Tunisie (AESAT), defended and denounced cases of aggression against Black foreigners. Its actions were therefore focused mainly on representing foreign individuals from a specific geographical and socio-professional background.20 And on an individual level, Tunisian Blacks also made a point of emphasizing their Tunisian21 and Arab-Muslim identity—not to essentialize it, but to highlight the contradiction in opposing Blackness to Arabness (or even to Muslim identity) in this context.

23In 2023, however—twelve years after the uprising that toppled Ben Ali’s authoritarian regime—it once again became not only dangerous but almost impossible to express an anti-racist consciousness and a plurality of identity, given the state-sponsored violence such expression provoked. This violence was echoed by openly xenophobic public officials. Today, any activist who calls for the recognition of diversity, denounces racism, voices indignation at the extremely precarious conditions of sub-Saharan migrants, or offers them assistance, risks being accused of participating in a conspiracy to undermine the country’s demographic composition and of threatening both the national identity—perceived by them as Arab-Berber but above all white—and the state itself.

24In the country’s history, protest against a uniform “national” identity had already been severely repressed. For over fifty years following independence in 1956 and up to the early 2000s, the nation-state was widely regarded as a model for restoring the political identity of a nation weakened by colonization. Grounded in the fear that the state would fragment into diverse ethnic groups lacking the cohesion to maintain real strength unless they were “united,” this aversion to communitarianism remained deeply ingrained. As early as 2011, during the fragile transition to democracy, it was again in the name of national unity that some minority voices harshly criticized the demands of anti-racist activists. These activists who drew attention to the “Black problem” were seen, at worst, as conspirators seeking to divide and thus endanger the Tunisian nation, and at best, as advancing a cause of secondary importance.

25The tendency to misjudge and neutralize multiculturalism and the diversity of ethnic self-organized groups—whether tribal or perceived as “extra-cultural”—with the aim of reducing this plurality to a single color and a single identity, resonates with another defining moment in Tunisian history. This historical episode, addressed in the next section, occurred between the abolition of slavery and the aftermath of the establishment of the French Protectorate.

From a multi-ethnic social organization to the height of racial considerations (19th century)

26The mid-to-late 19th century in Tunisia provides a compelling illustration of the shift from a context in which multiculturalism was tolerated to one increasingly conducive to racial essentialism.

27The populations examined in this study have a history shaped by slavery but also by voluntary migrations at various times over the centuries—a history marked by perceptions of both foreignness and indigeneity, and by a sense of belonging rooted in both external and national identities. These ties to a geographical region, embodied by individuals, were also taken into account for administrative purposes by the pre-colonial Tunisian authorities. People of varied origins and affiliations not only formed self-organized groups based on their affinities— recognized administratively—but also enjoyed a degree of autonomy, and fiscal self-management.

  • 22 The Bardo Treaty, which established the French Protectorate, was signed in 1881 between the Bey of (...)

28Before the abolition of slavery in 1846, the bankruptcy of the Tunisian State in the 1860s, and the establishment of the French Protectorate,22 Regency society was characterized by a high degree of multiculturalism. Its socio-political organization respected the diversity of communities living within it, operating in stark contrast to an assimilationist logic. Assimilation, by principle, demands that minorities abandon their characteristics (languages, customs, etc.) and by extension, asserts the superiority of the “national” or dominant culture. The Regency, by contrast, functioned on the basis of a plural socio-political (and fiscal) organization that recognized diverse tribal and/or ethnic communities. However, as explained from another perspective by Tunisian historian Abdelhamd Henia, beginning in the 19th century, the Regency gradually shifted from a suzerain state to a sovereign one, thereby eliminating the intermediary role of local community authorities (Henia 2003).

29Before this shift occurred, the multiple ethnic identities of West and Central African origin were formally recognized and integrated in a household-based system. Other, more “internalist” and Tunisian-centric categorizations also existed at the time and were recognized administratively. These included a distinction among Black populations between “sons of the country,” i.e. Shuāshīn (Tunisian-born Black people, and thus children of the country), and “foreigners to the country,” i.e. Wūṣfān (non-Tunisian-born Black people and thus considered foreigners).

30At the beginning of the 19th century, all these ethnic entities had a clearly defined political status, closely linked to administrative units directly subordinate to the state and, more specifically, to the Prime Minister. Each group was represented by a Qāʾid, Shaykh, or Khalifa, who was appointed or elected from within the community. These leaders were overseen by the First Grand Eunuch of the Beylical Palace, who acted as the political representative of all such groups and reported to the state authorities. Recognition of these groups is notably confirmed by the existence of designated spaces for meetings, deliberations, and protection—each identified by the seal of the respective self-organized ethnic group it represented and hosted.

Lineage houses and multi-ethnic frameworks

31During the 19th century, several institutions including “lineage houses” were created and managed for and by Black individuals in the Tunis Regency, whether enslaved or free. These spaces served multiple purposes, and notably to sustain social life by fostering networks of acquaintances and mutual aid, to manage economic affairs or facilitate access to job opportunities, and to shelter, regulate, and preserve cultural and religious practices unique to these communities—practices that were neither forbidden nor stigmatized by the Ottoman-aligned political authorities.

  • 23 Named after the temple in which were held the religious and musical trance-healing ceremonies—calle (...)

32These houses functioned as anchor points where enslaved, freed, and freeborn Black Tunisians could gather around shared affinities, hold meetings, and offer each other support. They embodied visible and claimable forms of ethnicity. According to historian Ismael Montana, who identified 14 such houses in Tunis in the late 1880s, they resembled the gida (pl. godaje) structures of the Hausa people in northern Nigeria. Each of these “Bori23 compounds” brought together a distinct socio-ethnic community bound by shared identity, religious practices, and cultural origins. Montana, who has traced the evolution of these structures since the 17th century, emphasizes the striking correlation between changes in the character and structure of these compounds and the peak of the trans-Saharan slave trade in the late 17th century. He also notes that “the ethnic characterization of these compounds mirrored the townships and geographical areas of Central Sudan from which the enslaved West Africans were drawn” (Montana 2014).

  • 24 Name used for these institutions in the documents of the French administration in Tunis.

33Our own archival research reveals that, in 1885, there were at least 18 such houses in Tunis, according to a petition submitted by the “negroes of the lineage houses” (nègres des maisons de lignage24) to the French public prosecutor. In their letter, they protest against the “Qāʾid of the ‘Abīd,” an administrative chief imposed on them by the French authorities. The signatures of the chiefs of the eighteen houses show that each house could have multiple leaders at once. Each house had its own name—most of which did not sound Arabic—likely reflecting the sub-Saharan ethnic origins of their members and leaders. Examples include:

  • 25 National Tunisian Archives (Archives Nationales Tunisiennes - ANT), series A, box 281, file 1/3.

- Bou Baker … chief of the Beurah house
- Aly Mercanti … chief of the
Cubil house
- Kusudan and Messoud Turchi. … chiefs of the Magon house
- Nasr, Abdallah Hanjouni, Ihal, Messaoud Engarchy, Salah el Gdamsy … chiefs of the
Carul house
[…]
- El Hadj Muhamed, Aly Babour, Ahmed ben Zanzar … chiefs of the Zanzaral house
- Elshilo Sad, Hadj Hamuda … Chiefs of the Zanzin house
- Ahmed Scivuscenne, Mohamed Scivuscenne, Ottman Sciahlebgil … chiefs of the Scivuscenne house
[…]
- Mohamed, Mohammed, Ben Zenzar, Boubaker Cebu, Kirella, Boubaker Sciubba, Saïd el Trabelsi, Youssef Elgharby, Mamudu Lanar, Kirella, Aly Elgeriddy, Abdelkader, Abdu, Aly Nubacgi, Mumadu, Muscia, Sciad, Sciousciam, Barca Zigalli. … chiefs of the
Barnu house
[…]25

34The authors of the petition very likely hired a public writer to draft the French version of their complaint, which was sent four years after the establishment of the Protectorate. Certain features—especially the transcriptions—suggest that the writer may have been Italian. For example, the ninth house mentioned, the “Scivuscenne house,” appears to correspond to the Shūshān house—the only one bearing the same “name” as its chiefs, a name that, in this case, is a title. As will be explained in more detail later, the term Shūshān was used in the 19th century to designate Black people born in the country.

  • 26 From Tebourba, a region in the northeast of Tunisia.

35Furthermore, several of the first names listed, such as “Kusudan,” “Baria,” and “Elshilo,” carry non-Arabic or Berber resonances, indicating the foreign origins of these chiefs. Some last names, however, such as Ghadamsi, Turchi (likely “Turkish”), Trabelsi (“Tripolitan”), and Uargli (“Ouargla”), refer either to supposed places of origin, or to regions through which members passed before settling in the Regency. A few names even point to regions within the Regency itself, such as “Tebourbi.”26 According to this document, the Barnu (or Bournou) house had the largest number of chiefs, suggesting that the number of representatives was proportional to the size of the group. This aligns with the well-documented evidence of the predominance of slaves brought from the Barnu region to the Regency as part of the trans-Saharan slave trade.

  • 27 According to some documents, the house or corporation chief is “either […] elected by co-religionis (...)
  • 28 Values relating to ancestry (al-nasab), and affiliation (al-hasab), which can be strong markers of (...)

36The role of reference person or guarantor, played by one or more house chiefs,27 was also established in the Regency as a way to provide non-Tunisian-born enslaved, freed, or freeborn Black individuals with strong, locally recognized roots, along with moral and practical support. In a context where anyone not born locally was considered a foreigner due to their lack of nasab—that is, no known or recognized kinship, lineage, or affiliation in their place of residence28—these houses acted as a form of substitute affiliation. Through the recognition of their chiefs, individuals gained access to locally acknowledged guarantors, as referenced in archival documents. These guarantors could, for example, vouch for them in dealings with potential employers or local authorities.

37These various ethnic identities—locally perceived as “other”—were materially represented by houses or buildings. Rent and utility payments were very likely collected from members of each community, granting them access to a shared, collective “property.” This arrangement helped sustain distinct identities and, in turn, fostered the formation of self-organized groups built around a common origin or point of affiliation—whether geographical, cultural, or ideological—as illustrated in the list of houses.

  • 29 Further on, Montana, who studied the development of these clubhouses from the 17th century onward, (...)

38These Diyār Jamāʿa or “assembly houses” were places for socializing and, very likely, for finding opportunities. At least in their early days, they functioned as spaces for building “ethnic networks” or, to use Montanas term (op. cit. p. 10), “clubhouses” (Nawadi [sing. Nadi] in Arabic).29

  • 30 About Stambali, as a practice originating from Bori religious practices, see Pâques, 1995; Rahal 20 (...)
  • 31 Montana cites Treamearne (1968), who explains how the Hausa and Borno peoples, persecuted in their (...)
  • 32 In Tunis, two large zāwiya linked to Black patron saints, where these ceremonies took place, were l (...)

39What gave these spaces a distinctly “ethnic” character was their close connection to the cultural practices specific to the Black populations of Tunis—particularly trance-healing and musical ceremonies such as Stambali, rooted in Bori spirituality.30 These houses served as spaces where members could freely express themselves31 and celebrate their own religious festivals and rituals. They straddled the boundary between the profane and the sacred, and between “public” and “private” spaces. In this respect, they appear to have been closely linked to certain types of zāwiya or maraboutic sanctuaries, which were also visited and managed by Black communities in the Regency.32

40Represented before the administration by chiefs or Khalīfa, these communities were also, in some respects, led by priestesses of the Bori religion—the Arifa—Black women whose “ethnic” origin is often omitted in sources from the second half of the 19th century. However, several accounts note that in addition to their “sacred” role, these women provided assistance to other women of their community and, as a result, served as informants for the political authority overseeing them. This authority was the Bāsh Āghā al-’Abīd, the sole political figure appointed by the Bey to supervise this body of community and administrative representatives. Before being ultimately deposed by the colonial administration, this Grand Eunuch of the Beylical Palaces—whose sub-Saharan origins were also rarely acknowledged—held sole authority to appoint all chiefs of the countrys various Black ethnic groups from within their own communities.

41This brings into focus the “political” use of these different Black “ethnic” groups living in the country. What kind of discourse did political entrepreneurs develop at this specific moment in Tunisian history around the people they categorized in this way? When the Regency faced bankruptcy and tax reforms were introduced, were these groups perceived the same manner by their traditional representative, the Bash Agha, as by the dominant political actors— namely the “free” (Aḥrār [pl. of ḥurr]) tribal or administrative leaders of Tunisian society? And how did actors outside both groups choose to interact with them?

The community leader Bash Agha and multi-ethnic discourse

  • 33 Etymologically, this means “second” or “servant” in Arabic. The term was used in the 19th century t (...)
  • 34 The word ’Abīd also became somewhat generic for Blacks, regardless of their status.
  • 35 Pl. of Nāʾib.

42The Bash Agha, traditionally the First Grand Eunuch of the Beylical Palace, probably best personifies the multicultural, communitarian policy of the 19th century, as reflected in the various community houses (Diyār Jamāʿa). Until the establishment of the French Protectorate in 1881, the holder of this title and office had formal authority over all matters concerning the countrys “Blacks” without exception—whether Tunisian-born (Shuāshīn) or foreign (Wūṣfān),33 enslaved, freed, or freeborn.34 As a leader in direct contact with political circles, he oversaw several Black officials, who represented him in the various regions of the Regency where his presence was required. These officials were his Nuwwāb,35 his “representatives” or “delegates.”

  • 36 These population groups lived in areas where the tribal system and organization predominated, namel (...)

43These representatives, often drawn from the very groups they were meant to represent, also bore the title of Khalīfa (pl. Khalifas) of these houses or Qāʾid of a given district where they resided, or of a particular Black tribal sub-group.36 Interestingly, these Nāʾibs never dealt directly with the Qāʾid of neighboring non-Black tribes, illustrating the potential rift between these communities but above all the state’s management of a deeply communitarian social structure. If a dispute occurred, they were required to report to their hierarchical superior, the Bash Agha of the eunuchs, who alone had the authority to forward any request to the Prime Minister and who settled disputes by communicating directly with the other Aḥrār (free) Qāʾid and governors.

  • 37 The Bardo Treaty, signed on May 12, 1881, established the French Protectorate in Tunisia.

44This community leader was later officially and definitively removed in the aftermath of the Bardo Treaty.37 However, the representative authority of the Grand Eunuch had already begun to wane following the Beylical proclamation abolishing slavery in 1846, which also lead to a review of the body of taxpayers. More specifically, as early as the 1850s, the Bash Agha started to lose his authority and control over the taxation of certain socio-ethnic “categories” of Black populations. This administrative control was transferred to “non-Black” representatives. These decisions set off a tug-of-war and tensions between the representatives of these ethnic minorities and the other Qāʾid.

  • 38 Prime Minister.
  • 39 Large tribe of Arad, in south-eastern Tunisia.
  • 40 Generic word, in this case, that includes all Blacks and not only slaves.
  • 41 Meaning “nation,” the term referred to small local communities.
  • 42 Member of the Hamerna tribe.
  • 43 Coastal region of northeastern Tunisia.
  • 44 Ifriqiyya refers both to the ancient name of Tunisia and to the present-day wilaya of Ifriqiyya, wh (...)
  • 45 Our translation of the Arabic text in ANT, H, 44, 504, doc. 4.

45A letter from Bash Agha Mohamed to Mostapha Khaznadar, then Grand Vizier38 and Minister of Finance, sent in January 1869, illustrates the extent of these rivalries and of the turmoil experienced by this political representative at the time. In his letter, he reports the taunts he had to endure from Qāʾid who claimed to have gained power over Black taxpayers. He complains in particular about a certain Mohamed ben ’Abd al-Jaouad, tax collector for the Hamerna Tiaches,39 who “tarnished [his] honor before everyone and boasted that the Bash Agha no longer had any power over all the ’Abīd;40 whether they were Tunisian-born Shūshān or freed slaves of a waṭan,41 they must be affiliated with a Ḥamrūnī42 […].” The Bash Agha was all the more offended because, as he points out, these claims were advanced “without any logic because […] among the ’Abīd of Cap Bon,43 there are freed Shuāshīn taxpayers and other Ifriqiyya Waṭan44 natives from father to son, like their fathers and grandfathers.”45 He adds, “it is all the same sculpture/base, simply formed of intertwined pieces,” and then asks for action to put an end to his accuser’s taunts, even if it had already been decided to strip the Bash Agha of all authority over these southern populations.

  • 46 Liter. “free,” a word still used today to distinguish “whites” from “Blacks” in this region.
  • 47 This historical testimony is very important because it explains the presence today in the south of (...)

46The Arabic word used by the Bash Agha to express the idea of affiliation or “grafting” to “whites” or non-Blacks, is Yunsibuhu (etym. root nasab.a), which is telling of the transformations then underway in the tribal organization of southern Tunisia, which had a large Black population. The “white” or non-Black Ḥamrūnī, known as Aḥrār,46 now had to embody the nasab or lineage of the Blacks in this tribe—here, a fictitious lineage—and thus became their guarantor or representative before the authorities, notably for fiscal purposes. This established the direct dependency of all Blacks on Aḥrār lineages and no longer on a “community” led by a Black chief acting as agent of the state.47

  • 48 In a sense, this is how the assimilationist policy started to spread among the Black population bor (...)
  • 49 Distinction for the purpose of somehow managing inter-group relations.
  • 50 From the point of view of this community chief, the Black population (all called without distinctio (...)

47The Bash Agha was losing his authority not only as a community guardian and representative, but also as a fiscal authority over the Shuāshīn, i.e. individuals born in the country (whether second-generation or those who had been present in the country for several generations and/or were indigenous). In his letter, the Bash Agha insists on the importance of the Tunisian-born condition of the Shuāshīn and considers secondary their status as freed or freeborn individuals. For him, because they were Tunisians by birth, they were all legally free and therefore required to pay taxes like all other Tunisians. At that specific time, the Bash Agha’s responsibilities had been reduced to the administrative and fiscal management of non-native Blacks.48 To emphasize the absurdity of this reorganization, he pointed out the existence of “sub-groups” such as the Shuāshīn, a category that comprised both freed and freeborn indigenous Blacks, and thus distinguished them from other Black groups.49 The Bash Agha refers to the Cap Bon region, where Shuāshīn lived, and stresses that whether or not they had previously been enslaved was of little importance, as they were all part of the same people. According to his understanding, which most probably illustrates Tunisian pre-colonial perceptions, it was unthinkable that they should be separated in this way,50 purely for purposes of taxation and representation.

  • 51 This is still how lineages in the southern tribes, such as Hamrouni, are organized today.
  • 52 Yet even when slavery was legal, the Bash Agha enjoyed a position of authority over the Black popul (...)

48By questioning the Hamerna tax collectors categorization of Blacks into Shuāshīn and freed slaves—as if Shuāshīn could not also be freed slaves—and by insisting that such categories were mistaken, he reveals the extent to which his opponents were hostile to what he represented, and thus also to his constituents, whose particularities they denied by perceiving them only as indiscriminately Black and ’Abīd. According to his account, they did not take Tunisian-born peoples and their diverse backgrounds into consideration, and were even willing to make them dependent, at least for tax purposes and therefore politically. This new subjugation of Blacks, even those who were Tunisian-born and therefore “children of the country” to non-Black Tunisians, operated as a kind of grafting at the tribal level. And this grafting later erased the distinctions between at least two ethnically distinct and administratively independent groups, in favor of a single tribal group divided into a white and a Black lineage, but headed and dominated by the white one.51 This shift marked the beginning of a relationship of racial subordination, which was institutionally established under the pretext of taxation constraints, but clearly also stemmed from habits of domination inherited from slavery—abolished, yet still very much alive in both practice and mindset.52 This probably also explained the Bash Aghas fears and protests.

  • 53 This can be observed on a smaller scale in Jamel ben Tahar’s (2000) study of Black taxpayers on Jer (...)
  • 54 Here the term seems to be used for all Black individuals in general.

49Taxation requirementsand the new identity categorizations they entailed due to administrative systems of representation—are recurring issues in the history of Tunisias Black populations. This was true both during the post-abolitionist period and the colonial period (Mrad Dali 2020). Following the abolition of slavery in 1846, Black people born in Tunis were considered “children of the country.” Since they were now all free without distinction, they were required to pay a tax.53 Later, in the context of fiscal reorganization linked to the economic depression experienced by the Tunisian State, another letter written by the Bash Agha (1868), concerning the ’Abīd54 of Sfax, shows how the authorities had begun to distinguish between those who were taxable and those who were not. The population required to pay the tax was described as man wufida ʿalayhā, meaning individuals who had settled in the city after their birth. They were considered “foreigners,” as opposed to those who were born there, man kāna wulida bihā, who were exempt from taxation. The tax privilege enjoyed by the native-born, sons of the Waṭan, reinforced the distinction between “Tunisian-born” and “foreigners.” Natives of Sfax, whatever their phenotype, were exempted from taxation because the city was a stronghold (like Tunis or Monastir etc.). Black individuals among the Tunisian-born had the same privilege.

  • 55 For an unusual and innovative explanation of this bankruptcy, its origins and its political, econom (...)
  • 56 This Tunisian politician, a leading figure in the reform movement and originally a slave from Circa (...)
  • 57 Town on the eastern coast of the Regency of Tunis, a stronghold at the time.
  • 58 ANT, H, 44, 504, doc. 17.

50Around a decade after Bash Agha Mohamed’s letter, correspondence from his successor, Bash Agha Sourour, confirms that the Bash Agha gradually lost his prerogatives to represent the various “groups” in the Regency of Tunis. The financial crisis that began in the late 1860s55 seems to have accelerated the process. On January 23, 1870, Bash Agha Sourour sent a letter to Khaireddine Pacha,56 then president of the international financial commission set up to manage the Tunisian government’s income and expenditure, in which he mentioned the Bey’s order to strip him of his authority over the ’Abīd of Monastir.57 Bash Agha Sourour requested an explanation, adding: “while the Beys orders are clear that each branch must be affiliated and grouped (ruled) based on its origin by someone from the same group (bi-inẓām kulli faraʿin ilā aṣlihi); and that all taxes (taxpayers) return in any case to the same hand […].”58

51The organization described reflects the multiculturalist communitarianism practiced in the Regency up to that period, i.e. the coexistence of multiple cultures (ethnic, religious, etc.) encouraged by a proactive policy and an administrative organization that sustains it. And in his letter, the Bash Agha is specifically pointing to the organizational principle introduced by the Bey that people of the same “origin” or “ancestry” (aṣl) should be grouped together and become “members.” It remains unclear whether the word aṣl used by the Bash Agha implies the same origin in terms of race, ethnicity, region, or condition (subordinate, slave, etc.). But what the Bash Agha does not understand is why this responsibility is being taken away from him, when from a financial perspective, the money would flow into the state’s coffers in any case.

52In these letters, the successive Bash Agha aim to restore the truth about group classifications and, consequently, about the multiple ethnic categories among the countrys Black populations. Their objective in emphasizing these categories is not only to reassert how these groups should be perceived and understood in everyday interactions (as in the case of the Ḥamrūnī tax collector, who publicly humiliated the Bash Agha), but also to influence official classifications and organizational practices. By identifying the categorical attributes of specific individuals, the Bash Agha sought to draw attention to and revive the institutions specific to them—institutions that were now in serious jeopardy.

  • 59 ANT, series A, box 281, folder 1/5, doc. 2.
  • 60 The French Protectorate was established in May 1881; the following letter was written in June of th (...)
  • 61 Letter from Resident General Cambon to the Bey of Tunis, ANT, Historical series, box 44, file 504, (...)

53By 1881, all the Bash Aghas representative and administrative functions had been abolished. On June 25, 1881, barely one month after the French Protectorate was established, the Prime Minister sent Bash Agha Morjan a letter, translated by the French Residency, prohibiting him and his men from taking part in any action to combat slavery. The letter stated “[…] that no eunuch has the authority to supervise the negro trade and that His Highness forbids him and his subordinates from any intervention of this kind […].”59 His exclusion, which came at a time of clear fragility and tension for the Tunisian authorities, who themselves were under threat, was also closely tied to new taxation policies introduced under the French Protectorate.60 These developments largely explain the determination of the colonial authorities to put an end to his prerogatives in the years that followed. As early as 1882,61 the Bash Agha was accused of failing to collect taxes (Majba) correctly and on time, and was reduced to his palatial functions involving the private affairs of the Beylical family.

  • 62 ANT., A, 281, 1/3.

54Within this communitarian environment—originally shaped to accommodate the needs of diverse populations—Black people became increasingly vulnerable. The letter mentioned at the beginning of this section, sent in 1885 (four years after the establishment of the French Protectorate) to the public prosecutor of the French Republic by the chiefs of eighteen “assembly houses” in Tunis,62 was a petition against “Ali el Hammi, Qāʾid of the ’Abīd of Tunis.” He was accused of mistreating Black individuals to the point of death in order to seize their property; of trading in women, notably by selling them as housemaids; and of contributing to the condition of this community as “despised, subjugated and stripped of its property”:

  • 63 ANT, series A, box 281, folder 1/3.

When one of our Negroes is sick, he locks them up in a dungeon, neglects them and lets them die in order to seize everything they own, and he trades in Negro women: as soon as Negro women arrive, he places them in households in return for money, and he sells them.63

  • 64 Illegal slavery continued until the late 1890s and mainly affected women.

55The violent reactions of certain “non-Black” or Aḥrār local representatives to attempts to maintain Black political representation and condemn slavery—supposedly abolished—64 were echoed by the colonial administration’s determination to disparage and dismantle the previous system of ethnic representation. The authorities aimed to silence all voices denouncing abuses, even though these voices were legitimate because they stemmed from within this self-organized group itself and expressed its everyday concerns and difficulties, particularly within the Diyār Jamāʿa. This body was now only seen as tax providers who were foreign and simply Black (Mrad Dali 2020).

  • 65 Term used by the French administration at the time (Mrad Dali 2020).

56The Bash Agha, who previously crystallized this multi-ethnic, hierarchically stratified communitarianism, united under his authority the different components of the countrys Black populations, whose ethnic and cultural distinctiveness was thus recognized. However, by placing all these groups—virtually indiscriminately—under the authority of the Qāʾid of non-Black fractions (an authority that would be permanently enshrined during the colonial era), and by eliminating any distinctions beyond skin color, all Black individuals became classified as ’Abīd or “Sudanese negroes.”65 In the process, the country lost a rich ethnic diversity, along with the memory of the multiple histories of its Black populations, in favor of a racialized logic. Reduced to this thinking, they all uniformly became “Black.”

Conclusion

57A closer look at the categorizations and claims of people with a Black phenotype in Tunisia, whether in the contemporary era or further back, in the 19th century, shows how racial ascriptions and collective affiliations have been directly shaped by political and economic imperatives. Differences in how identities and groupings are perceived reflect contrasting visions of the countrys social and ethnic fabric. The perspective of the Bash Agha, as a community leader, contrasts with that of the non-Black Qāʾid and tax collectors favored by political decision-makers for reasons of state. Likewise, the self-perceptions and aspirations of contemporary activists run counter to the binary and simplistic racializations imposed on them. Political influence is also evident in the post-independence emphasis on national unity—a trope used to reject particularism—or in the call for a “war of national liberation” as a justification for today’s measures to “purify” all sectors, ostensibly in the name of combatting corruption and advancing state reform.

  • 66 As the proponents of constructivism point out, “ethnic categories may or may not be relevant, but t (...)

58By shedding light on several periods of Tunisian history, the article shows how ethnic or racial categories as they are called—rather than the individuals they represent—fluctuate with the practical demands imposed on them in changing political circumstances.66 It reveals how the identifiers created and implemented in moments of ethnic differentiation disappear or acquire new meanings. For example, the ethnic identifier Shūshān/Shuāshīn used in the 19th century evolved over the 20th century into a title mainly used in the country’s south to refer more broadly to Black people. Similarly, the terms ’Abīd or Waṣīf have come to designate, under a single category etymologically tied to slavery, all people with a Black phenotype, regardless of geographical origin or administrative status. Through this process, distinctive categorizations that once reflected specific local affiliations became lost in favor of phenotypic and, by extension, racial signifiers.

59Obviously, these semantic transformations call for deeper contextual analysis, as they remain key indicators of pivotal historical and political events, many of which have been repressed or forgotten. A historical and social anthropology of “powers,” as already advocated in 1990 by anthropologist Jean-Loup Amselle, would offer valuable insight into these processes by situating them within their own temporal frameworks.

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Notes

1 Tunisia was formerly known as Ifriquiyya and was considered the gateway to Africa, eventually lending its name to the continent itself. See A. Siraj and E.B., “Ifrîkiyya,” Encyclopédie berbère, 24, 2001, 3660-3666.

2 For instance, the arrest on May 7, 2024, of Saadia Mosbah, president of the M’nemty association and a prominent figure in Tunisian anti-racism activism, who has remained imprisoned without trial since that date.

3 At a Security Council meeting, the President of the Tunisian Republic referred to all migrants of sub-Saharan origin as “hordes of illegal migrants,” “the source of violence, crime and unacceptable acts.” He accused them of being part of a “criminal organization established at the beginning of the century to change the demographic composition of Tunisia with the aim of reducing it to its African dimension alone, which has no identity or affinity with the Arab-Muslim nation.” All translations from Arabic or French in this article are original.

4 This is a clear instance of “racialized oppression,” in the sense of a specific moment in which explicit racial ascriptions are manifested. Without entering into the debate on the distinction between racialization (racialisation in French) and racialized oppression (racisation in French), we align with Christian Poiret’s (2011) approach, in which racialization refers to the “cognitive process for shaping the world and defining the situation,” or “the mental aspect of racism,” while rationalized oppression denotes the “practices and attitudes oriented and justified by racialization,” or its “material aspect.” Sarah Mazouz similarly notes: “Racialized oppression therefore designates only one aspect of the racialization process: the production of a racializing ascription […]. If we take the case of white people again, they are racialized but by no means suffer from racialized oppression,” in Race, Paris, Anamosa, 2020, p. 49.

5 In this article, the qualifier “Black” is used to describe individuals socially perceived—both historically and in the present—as bearing this phenotypic marker, which authorizes various forms of social distinction and minority ascription (see S. Mazouz 2020: 31-32).

6 We use “self-organized group” (Groupalité in French) to describe a primary, internally driven intention to self-organize as a group, based on the recognition and assertion of a shared sense of belonging to a common cause. This concept thus differs from the concept of category, which is more often externally ascribed.

7 This refers to the phenomenon in which a previously “independent” ethnic group becomes attached or subordinated to other, initially distinct groups.

8 As one of the first positive outcomes of the collective struggle waged since 2011, Tunisia began to see the effects of the anti-racism law passed in 2018, when in October 2020, descendants of slaves were legally authorized for the first time to change their last names. See notably: Mrad Dali 2021.

9 Tunisia abolished slavery in 1846, ahead of other Arab-Muslim countries and two years before France, which abolished it in 1848.

10 Some male public figures could have played an important role in the anti-racist movement but did not. During the 2011 term of the Tunisian National Constituent Assembly (ANC), its only Black deputy—affiliated with the Ennahdha party—refused to take a stance against racism, considering the issue secondary.

11 These activists include Christiane Taubira and Rokhaya Diallo, whom some Tunisian women activists met either in Tunisia or in France, as well as bell hooks, author of Feminist History: From margin to center, translated into Arabic by Maha Abdelhamid. Excerpts from the translation have been published online on various occasions.

12 Cf. Mariem Guellouz, “The construction of ‘Tunisianity’ through sociolinguistics practices from the Tunisian independence to 2016”, in Journal of Arabic and Islamic Studies, vol. 16, p. 290-298; Fethi Helal, Joseph Lo Bianco, Chanel View Publications, 2025.

13 Letter sent by Saadi Mosbah to the Tunisian government, December 3, 2012, https://mosbahsaadia.wordpress.com/.

14 Jamila Ksiksi was a Black member of parliament representing the Ennahdha party (from which she resigned in 2021). She played a major role in advocating for and securing the passage of legislation penalizing racist acts and speech. In 2015, she was elected to the Pan-African Parliament, where she chaired the caucus.

15 After Jamila Ksiksi’s death in December 2022, the initiative she helped lead was revived and became the RNDAR network (Regional Network for Development and Anti-Racism, Middle East and North-Africa).

16 Al-Ambar [ambergris] is a precious natural substance used in traditional Tunisian jewelry. It is valued for its exquisite fragrance and its deep Black color.

17 Ahmed Bey published the first abolitionist decree on January 23, 1846. However, it was only under the presidency of Beji Caid Essebsi that, on January 23, 2019, abolition was commemorated for the first time (Oualdi 2021).

18 The activists shared photo portraits of themselves holding their Tunisian passports and national identity cards in their hands or taped to their headdresses with captions such as: “I keep my ID papers with me, just in case…” and “Half African” (in Tunisian fawqa awrāqī ʿalā mā-yatī and Ifrīqiyā wa-nuṣf).

19 https://www.facebook.com/VFTN20/videos/1141498353214085/

20 Since February 2023, AESAT’s press releases have tended to focus exclusively on students’ rights, showing that the movement is distancing itself from the “sub-Saharan migrants” category that is currently at the heart of socio-political tensions, even though these students also consider themselves migrants, albeit legal ones.

21 Beyond the indisputable reality of their strong roots in the country, this vocal self-identification as Tunisians also seems to transcend the various social and chromatic categories imposed by “hostile” persons seeking to renegotiate their right to belong to the country.

22 The Bardo Treaty, which established the French Protectorate, was signed in 1881 between the Bey of Tunis and the French authorities. The main pretext for signing it was the great material debt owed by the Tunisian State to France.

23 Named after the temple in which were held the religious and musical trance-healing ceremonies—called “Stambali”—specific to the Black populations of northern Tunisia.

24 Name used for these institutions in the documents of the French administration in Tunis.

25 National Tunisian Archives (Archives Nationales Tunisiennes - ANT), series A, box 281, file 1/3.

26 From Tebourba, a region in the northeast of Tunisia.

27 According to some documents, the house or corporation chief is “either […] elected by co-religionists, or […] recognized by the city authorities as the guarantor of all negroes employed in Tunis” (ANT, A, 287, 1, doc. 49).

28 Values relating to ancestry (al-nasab), and affiliation (al-hasab), which can be strong markers of social hierarchization are deeply entrenched in this socio-cultural context (See Ferchiou 1992). Individuals were considered “foreign” not only when they were born outside the Regency, but also when they came from another region.

29 Further on, Montana, who studied the development of these clubhouses from the 17th century onward, claims that after 1782 (the beginning of Hammuda Pasha’s reign and the peak of tans-Saharan slave trading activities and thus the increase in slave imports), these structures evolved from clubs (private, for soldiers) to Diyār Jamāʿa, community centers that model the Hausa concept of gida (Montana op. cit. p. 16-17).

30 About Stambali, as a practice originating from Bori religious practices, see Pâques, 1995; Rahal 2000.

31 Montana cites Treamearne (1968), who explains how the Hausa and Borno peoples, persecuted in their home country by jihadists for practicing the Bori cult, were oppressed and sold into slavery. Those who arrived as slaves in the Regencies of Tunis or Tripoli were able to preserve and perpetuate their religious practices, which were authorized and even encouraged by the Beylical Palace, and thus never persecuted in the country. That is how Central-West African Bori religious ceremonies survived in Tunisia, even though they disappeared in their regions of origin.

32 In Tunis, two large zāwiya linked to Black patron saints, where these ceremonies took place, were located in the suburbs of Tunis: Sidi Saad in Mornag and Sidi Frej in La Soukra-Chotrana.

33 Etymologically, this means “second” or “servant” in Arabic. The term was used in the 19th century to designate Blacks who were not born in the country and were therefore considered foreigners (as opposed to Shuāshīn). However, in the twentieth century, it began to take on a completely different meaning still in use today: in common speech it refers to all Black people. The term has sparked some controversy in recent years, as anti-racist activists have called for banning its usage, arguing that it is a racist term associated with servitude and slavery.

34 The word ’Abīd also became somewhat generic for Blacks, regardless of their status.

35 Pl. of Nāʾib.

36 These population groups lived in areas where the tribal system and organization predominated, namely the south of the country. A real or fictitious link of kinship to a founding saint or figure served to establish and legitimize the existence of these tribes both politically and locally.

37 The Bardo Treaty, signed on May 12, 1881, established the French Protectorate in Tunisia.

38 Prime Minister.

39 Large tribe of Arad, in south-eastern Tunisia.

40 Generic word, in this case, that includes all Blacks and not only slaves.

41 Meaning “nation,” the term referred to small local communities.

42 Member of the Hamerna tribe.

43 Coastal region of northeastern Tunisia.

44 Ifriqiyya refers both to the ancient name of Tunisia and to the present-day wilaya of Ifriqiyya, which is the Cap Bon peninsula.

45 Our translation of the Arabic text in ANT, H, 44, 504, doc. 4.

46 Liter. “free,” a word still used today to distinguish “whites” from “Blacks” in this region.

47 This historical testimony is very important because it explains the presence today in the south of the country of a division within the large Hamerna tribe (as within other large tribes of the region) between a white lineage and a Black one, which do not mix by marriage. To this day, memorial explanations vary as to the reasons for this division and lack a clear and obvious historical-political foundation.

48 In a sense, this is how the assimilationist policy started to spread among the Black population born in the country. Why should they continue to be administratively managed as separate groups or communities, when they were “sons of the country” by virtue of having been born there? This was probably how such a reform and change was argued and defended.

49 Distinction for the purpose of somehow managing inter-group relations.

50 From the point of view of this community chief, the Black population (all called without distinction ’Abīd) includes the following:
* Wūṣfān (non-Tunisian-born) freed individuals
* Suashîn (Tunisian-born):
- Freed individuals

- Freeborn individuals: descendants of indigenous peoples of Ifriqiyya.

51 This is still how lineages in the southern tribes, such as Hamrouni, are organized today.

52 Yet even when slavery was legal, the Bash Agha enjoyed a position of authority over the Black populations in the country and acted as a judge in the event of disputes.

53 This can be observed on a smaller scale in Jamel ben Tahar’s (2000) study of Black taxpayers on Jerba Island.

54 Here the term seems to be used for all Black individuals in general.

55 For an unusual and innovative explanation of this bankruptcy, its origins and its political, economic, and even palatial consequences, see M’hamed Oualdi, A Slave between Empires: A Transimperial History of North Africa, New York, Columbia University Press, 2020.

56 This Tunisian politician, a leading figure in the reform movement and originally a slave from Circassia, had been Grand Vizier of the Regency of Tunis (1873-1877).

57 Town on the eastern coast of the Regency of Tunis, a stronghold at the time.

58 ANT, H, 44, 504, doc. 17.

59 ANT, series A, box 281, folder 1/5, doc. 2.

60 The French Protectorate was established in May 1881; the following letter was written in June of the same year.

61 Letter from Resident General Cambon to the Bey of Tunis, ANT, Historical series, box 44, file 504, (1279-1296), doc. 12.

62 ANT., A, 281, 1/3.

63 ANT, series A, box 281, folder 1/3.

64 Illegal slavery continued until the late 1890s and mainly affected women.

65 Term used by the French administration at the time (Mrad Dali 2020).

66 As the proponents of constructivism point out, “ethnic categories may or may not be relevant, but they become socially effective when anchored to boundaries that are contextually actualized,” Poutignat and Streiff-Fenart, 2015.

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Inès Mrad Dali, « Temporalities of ethnicity and race in Tunisia: Categories, self-organized groups, and interactions between political authorities and Black populations (19th to 21st centuries) »Appartenances & Altérités [En ligne], 7 | 2025, mis en ligne le 01 novembre 2025, consulté le 07 février 2026. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/alterites/2187 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/156lw

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Inès Mrad Dali

Maître-assistante à la Faculté des Lettres des Arts et des Humanités de la Manouba - Tunis, rattachée à l’ERC « Slave Voices » - European University Institute-Florence (Italy)

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