This excellent collection of papers is exemplary for a necessary intellectual enterprise. Until recently, it seemed that historians limited themselves to the study of pre-independence Africa, and that post-independence events were the realm of social scientists, especially political scientists. The political implications of this were obvious, as historical justification is a powerful force in politics. Whereas the first generation of African leaders justified their position by their role in the independence struggle, the successors who came to power after the wave of democratisation justified their actions with reference to what had gone wrong between independence and democratisation. In recent years there is again an idealisation of the immediate post-independence period as a reaction to disappointments since democratisation. The political relevance of history is thus obvious. However, not only did the writing of history shun post-independence, but it was also to a large extent co-opted by the nationalist movement. The title of this collection is One Zambia, Many Histories, and it succeeds in detaching history writing from a narrow nationalist cause, from writing one history instead of many, and provides necessary insights to clarify this struggle for meaning in politics. Giacoma Macola, for example, writes about Harry Nkumbula with much empathy, but he also brings out clearly the authoritarian tendencies – especially with respect to intra-party democracy – that have characterised Zambian politics from the beginning.

The book consists of thirteen papers in four sections: political unity and dissent; the public role of religion; the economy; and the state and politics in the Third Republic. It covers the period from the early 1960s up to and including 2001. Some of the papers are stronger than others, but virtually all of them are highly informative. They excel in an imaginative use of sources. For example, Miles Larmer in his paper on UPP – the suppressed opposition party led by Simon Kapwepwe – uses files from South African intelligence in Pretoria. He makes the following praiseworthy remark, keeping the study of a difficult subject open to enquiry: ‘By its very nature, opposition to an authoritarian one-party state, as well as the study of it, is an activity prone to disinformation, rumour, accusation and counter-accusation’ (p. 123).

The book is the product of what must have been a lively conference that brought out the best in the contributors, and reading the book one feels like mingling in the discussion. It is, however, probably inevitable that, for somebody who lived in Zambia during the 1970s and has followed events in Zambia since then, there are points that raise queries in a volume like this; but the book also raises issues about major themes. For example, religion gets the major place. Zambia is undoubtedly a very religious society, and religion also permeates political life. This is well argued in chapters on the Lumpa by David Gordon, on the Catholic Church by Marja Hinfelaar, on Charismatic churches by Austin Cheyeka, and on Islam by Felix Phiri. All these papers are informative and specific on political events. Yet throughout the years I have become more and more puzzled as to the actual place of religion in relation to political practices. To what extent does it influence behaviour by producing discourse? David Gordon ends his paper on the clashes between UNIP and the Lumpa with the statement that ‘the politicisation of religion and the theocratic nature of politics remain a feature of the Zambian political landscape’ (p. 76). I would say in this case that millenarianism is a running theme through Zambian history, for example the Watchtower movement or the Mchape episode in Serenje, that can take on a political meaning. All millenarianism has to cope with the fact that heaven on earth will never materialise, and this can result in (self-)destructive movements. Examples abound in different surroundings, e.g. Jonestown in Guyana, or the Waco incident in the USA. The Lumpa conflict coincided with the emerging victory of Zambian nationalism, but may that not be mere coincidence rather than having a political meaning? As already stated, religion is a factor in Zambian politics, but we should think more about giving it a proper place. Especially, we need more information about the recruitment basis of the various religions. For example, clashes between educated and less educated strata in Zambia probably play a major role when religion becomes politically manifest.

Whereas religion may be overexposed in this volume, economic history could have had more exposure. I thought, for example, that the book should have included a paper on the copper mines. However, that is compensated for by a superior paper by Hugh Macmillan on the impact of the nationalisations of the 1960s on the retail trade in rural Zambia. He demonstrates unequivocally how under Kaunda's leadership this trade was destroyed, and that Kaunda was disingenuous in doing so. The result was destruction of peasant economic life by a government that advocated rural development by smallholders. This paper touches on the most potent issue in writing on post-independence Zambian history: the roots of Zambia's economic decline. I think that these are to be found in the Kaunda period, and Macmillan's paper may carry the implication that an interpretation based on jealousy may be at the core. A comparison with the Zimbabwean situation came to my mind. If historians writing about Zambia are to face up to the task of explicating its economic decline, they need courage. To this day, Kaunda is quite active in creating a symbolic universe that avoids that question, and he has a following in his interpretation. This paper points to urgent important research that will enter a highly contested terrain. Readers who are pressed for time may choose to read only this article. I would not be surprised, however, if they read the whole book thereafter.