The Introduction proposes the book’s thesis. During a long fifteenth century stretching from the 1380s into the 1510s, Perpignan’s residents self-consciously abandoned many of the foundational institutions and practices that had been established in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. They came to believe that the past’s answers could not be the present’s answers. They also came to believe that the present’s answers would not be the future’s answers, because they anticipated a future of unending, unpredictable change and ceaseless adaptation. Driving this development was a series of disorienting experiences, from depopulation to economic decline to social conflict. And even when townspeople sought to preserve their foundational institutions and practices, they could not prevent their destruction at the hands of monarchies that had grown more powerful than ever. The introduction situates Time and Governance in historiographical debates concerning periodisation, as well as the nature and chronology of late medieval state formation. It also relates the study to methodological developments in institutional history and the history of mentalities.

Focusing on the same period as the two previous chapters, Chapter 4 examines a multiplicity of collective identities shared by most residents. Municipal citizenship was based on the defence of citizens against non-citizens, most especially the regional nobility. That defence consisted primarily of the ma armada (‘armed band’), which granted to Perpignan’s consuls the right to lead punitive expeditions against those who had injured citizens. Perpignan sought to extend the ma armada as part of an aggressive campaign against the regional nobility, and it maintained the ma armada against all comers, including monarchs. At the same time, Perpignan showed a growing willingness to be Catalonian, modelling its institutions after those of other Catalonian municipalities and accepting Barcelona’s leadership. And the royal state set the stage for its later triumph through the construction of urban fortifications. Garrisoned citadels enabled royal states to project their power against municipalities in ways that had not been possible before, and that rendered townspeople royal subjects first, municipal citizens second.

The Conclusion recapitulates and offers an additional framing of the book’s findings. Perpignan’s history in the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries had been dominated by efforts to adhere to the past, whether in the form of the town’s customs or the communal charter of 1197. Those efforts had been predicated on the assumptions that old was good, and that old was better than new. During the long fifteenth century, however, Perpignan no longer valued custom as it once had. In matters of municipal government, it no longer tried to adhere to the communal charter; as regards the ma armada, it could not prevent French and Aragonese kings from suppressing it and from taking control of the municipal government. Most importantly, townspeople began to operate according to new principles: the new was better than old, that the future could consist only of unpredictable change, and that what existed in the present would almost certainly have to be altered in the future. They became temporal relativists, and they did so before the sixteenth-century emergence of relativist thinking in European high culture.

Chapter 5 focuses on the period stretching from the Catalonian Civil War’s outbreak into the early sixteenth century. The civil war led to Perpignan’s conquest by France and three decades of nearly continuous French rule, followed by the town’s return to the Crown of Aragon. This chapter examines how these experiences affected matters treated in the preceding chapters. Although kings of France and Aragon fought each other for control of Perpignan, they pursued similar policies there during and after the civil war. They eliminated twelfth- and thirteenth-century customs and privileges on an unprecedented scale, including the foundational ma armada. And they assumed a thoroughgoing control of municipal elections, especially with King Ferdinand II’s establishment of a system that he called insaculation, and that I will call royal insaculation to differentiate it from earlier forms of insaculation. Together, the lasting suppression of the ma armada and the imposition of royal insaculation constituted the royal state’s triumph.

This chapter “deprovincializes” the histories of Lake Kivu’s societies in the “frontier”, (present-day Rwanda and Congo), during the second half of the nineteenth century. It challenges the dominant narrative of the “greater Rwanda” thesis, which argues that colonial border-making “amputated” Rwanda from a significant portion of its territory. The chapter shifts the attention to the societies Rwanda claimed were part of Rwanda since centuries. The chapter shows that while the Nyiginya kingdom – Rwanda’s antecedent – indeed increasingly sought to exert control over and integrate some of these societies, especially under mwami [s. King] Rwabugiri, their control was incomplete, at times impermanent, and often contested. Such complexities are overlooked when considered from a state-centric, often ideological perspective premised on the stability of a centralized authority. The histories and memories of local communities within the region defy these narratives and provide critical alternatives to what has been largely accepted as mere prologue. These questions are not merely a matter of historical debate, they remain crucial for understanding contemporary debates. While the geographical complexity of this chapter makes it a challenging read, it is foundational for understanding the historical continuities and contradictions throughout the book.

The Ottoman Empire’s territorial and maritime reach throughout its nearly 600-year existence led to a plethora of adversaries at whose expense the empire continued to expand. The resulting boundaries that constantly shifted over time prove to be sites of cultural, socioeconomic, as well as political history. Ottoman borders are critical windows into the dynamics shaping the larger empire, including the great urban centers often located far from these frontiers. The territorial limits (or beginnings) of this multiethnic empire, extending from South Arabia, the Persian Gulf, and Libya, to the Danube and the Caucasus, are crucial tools to gain insights into the complexities that constitute the processes by which the Ottomans administered as much as lived in these regions. Be they witness to the stability that accompanied peace between neighboring states or the frequent volatility caused by war, the empire’s edges served as theaters for intraimperial development that shaped subject and state alike.

From its very origins as a semi-nomadic community seeking to establish itself as an early modern state, large flows of migrants, exiles, and refugees found an accommodating Ottoman Empire. Indeed, the conditions under which migrants settled allowed for many to thrive as the empire encouraged migration as a manner to expand its territorial reach beyond the core Anatolian and Balkan regions. The ethnic and religious diversity of these migrants helped regularly energize Ottoman political, economic, and cultural life. At other moments, in different settings, other migrants destabilized the empire as peasants were uprooted by administrative attempts at settling the new arrivals. Arriving as the empire replaced previous ruling structures to adjust to political, cultural, and economic changes in the larger world, refugees from neighboring empires were thus seen as threats by many while they were welcomed by other constituencies within the Ottoman state, a pattern of settlement that shaped the 600-year history of the empire.

The chapter discusses empires from a broader historical and anthropological perspective, defining the topic and revealing several false assumptions that led the entire discussion of the United Monarchy astray. The chapter shows that while scholars were often using the Roman or even the British empire as a model when assessing the United Monarchy, most empires had a different form, rising very quickly – often evolving not from “states” but from simpler forms of sociopolitical organization, in what is sometimes referred to a stateless empires – and then dissolving just as quickly, often a generation or two after their foundation. Both the very rapid growth of such empires and their rapid disintegration means that although such empires were common, they did not exist long enough to have material manifestations resembling Assyria or Rome. As examples, the chapter looks at the empires founded by Shaka and Genghis Khan as models of empires that seem to serve as better antecedents to the United Monarchy. The chapter concludes that the reconstruction of the United Monarchy presented in the book is very much in line with what is known historically and anthropologically about empires.

This chapter begins by motivating the puzzles the book seeks to answer. Why do Rio de Janeiro’s drug-trafficking gangs govern neighborhoods? Why do some of these gangs rely on violence and coercion while others resolve disputes, offer welfare, and organize cultural activities for residents? This book argues that gangs govern in these ways because they need the obedience and support of local residents to survive amid shifting relations with rival gangs and the police. This chapter outlines a theory of criminalized governance which revolves around the relations that emerge between gang members and residents within distinct security environments. This theoretical framework builds on three traditions that view criminalized governance akin to processes of state formation, rebel governance, or state perversion. Finally, this chapter outlines its mixed method approach, and describes the methodological and ethical considerations involved in eighteen months of participant observation in three rival gang territories, 206 semi-structured interviews with residents and gang members, and the collection of more than 400 archival documents and a dataset of more than 20,000 anonymous denunciations.

The conclusions close the manuscript and make four points. First, they review the macro-level observational expectations tested in Part II, and how my findings, obtained through a triangulation of different techniques, allow for a comprehensive picture of how war affected state formation throughout the entire region. Second, they bring together all case studies in Part III, noting how the historical evidence collected fits the expectations of the theory at a micro-level—e.g., considering the behavior of individual actors and the effects of narrow events like battles within wars—and does so with out-and-out consistency—i.e., case by case, almost without exception. Third, they reflect upon the scope of the theory, discussing many other cases that could be explained by the long-term effects of war outcomes. This discussion covers many regions and time periods, showing that classical bellicist theory not only can travel, but can also solves logical problems and empirical puzzles highlighted by previous scholarship. Finally, the conclusions suggest many lines of enquiry for future research that the book leaves open.

In this chapter I lay the foundations of the book and give an overview of the argument. After introducing the importance of studying state capacity and the main puzzle of why certain states are set in divergent state building trajectories, I discuss the state of bellicist theory and criticisms related to its alleged functionalist approach to history, and lack of fit with a world where inter-state war has become less frequent. I then turn to Latin America, a poster child of anti-bellicist scholars. There I review the aforementioned books by Centeno, Kurtz, Mahoney, Mazzuca, Saylor, and Soifer, amongst others. My book is set against this new consensus which dismisses war as an explanation for intra-regional variation in state capacity. In a final section, I propose the need to rethink the theory with a focus on the long-term consequences of war outcomes rather than pre-war conditions. The introduction closes with a discussion of my case selection strategy and chapter layout.

Authority means the ability to affect others’ behavior without applying direct force. Its traces, noted among chimpanzees, develop among the “talking apes.” Human tribes may develop shamans even earlier than full-time chiefs. The advent of agriculture increased population density, enabling ambitious chiefs to have more sway over villagers than they could over sparse hunters: Land tillers are easy to locate and cannot abandon their fields even when hard pressed. A population density of five persons per square kilometer may be the threshold for state formation. Formation of the first states witnessed ferociousness rare in the present humans – or chimpanzees. Tool making shifted gatherers to hunting, and hunting skills may have selected for the most ferocious genes. Agriculture might have started an opposite process of self-taming that still continues, but meanwhile tribal freewheeling turned into utter regimentation, as if the state were the ruler’s household (oikos) and other people his slaves. This human self-domestication reached its fullest extent when the advent of money allowed humans to be sold and bought.

From the early second millennium AD more hierarchically organised societies marked by the rise of southern Africa’s first states developed in the north of southern Africa, culminating in Great Zimbabwe and its successors. This chapter outlines the processes involved, including the roles played by hunter-gatherer communities (for example at K2 and Mapungubwe) and the histories of farming societies on their periphery (notably those of Zimbabwe’s Nyanga Highlands). Much of this research is new and the past two decades have also seen challenges emerge to the importance previously accorded Indian Ocean trade in accounting for the emergence of social complexity, to the historical relationships between major centres (K2, Mapungubwe, Great Zimbabwe, Khami), and to understandings of the internal organisation, chronology, size, and functioning of those sites. Discussing these debates – particularly those relating to the settlement organisation of Great Zimbabwe and other stone-walled sites and the social implications of this – involves considering how far political action should be understood in terms of Indigenous, rather than Western, concepts.

The chapter introduces the book by presenting the puzzle it seeks to explain. During the decolonization process, colonial and regional powers frequently pursued the policy of amalgamation to avoid creating micro-states, which resulted in numerous cases of merger. However, some rejected merger projects and became independent separately. What, then, accounts for their separate existence? More generally, why did some colonial areas achieve independence separately from neighboring regions when facing pressure for amalgamation or annexation, while others became part of a larger state? This chapter then elaborates the main line of argument and the theoretical framework that underpins it. It argues that oil and a specific type of colonial administration carved out producing areas to create a state that would otherwise not exist. The introduction ends by briefly discussing methods and explaining the structure of the book.