This essay reconstructs a scandal in the fall of 1797 involving Ottoman governors, leaders of a notorious network of irregular soldiers cum bandits, and residents of the city of Filibe (Plovdiv in Bulgaria). It erupted over whether or not state officials should pacify successful bandit enterprises by co-opting their leaders. The scandal escalated into a crisis in which the large armies of the governors of Anatolia and Rumeli (the Ottoman Balkans) verged on clashing because each wanted to lead the state's lucrative war against Rumeli bandit networks. Imperial administrators issued dispatches regarding this scandal that were based on gossip and rumor circulating within the general population as well as among bandits. I draw on understandings of gossip as a social and cultural resource from linguistic anthropology to make sense of Ottoman political culture. I analyze these dispatches to uncover how the performance of these informal scripts featured prominently in correspondence with the Imperial Council and related surveillance reports, and thereby mediated resources, power, and authority among different agents of imperial violence. I show that gossip, rumor, and related forms of seemingly informal “talk” played a fundamental role in sovereign decision making. I also transpose methodologies and approaches of “history from below,” conceived by earlier generations of cultural anthropologists and historians, onto elite letters to ask new questions about information brokerage, the negotiation of power among different agents of imperial violence and their interlocutors, and the contested nature of imperial intelligence gathering and sovereignty.

This article explores the environmental transformation of the moorland (landes) of southwestern France from a much maligned “wilderness” or “empty space” to a forested landscape coveted for its productive potential as well as its aesthetic beauty. This occurred in two stages from the eighteenth century to the present and was effected by the French state and local landowners. It bears resemblance to processes of environmental change in North America, Central Asia, and Africa, where states and colonial or imperial powers took measures to develop alleged empty spaces through seizure, development, and settlement. Drawing on paradigms of colonial rule and Henri Lefebvre’s theory regarding the production of space, the article examines the eradication of the “wilderness” of the region of the Landes, which led to the displacement of its pastoral populations and the end of their way of life. It explores the role of technology in consolidating the power of territorial states and empires and the significance of the parallels that can be drawn between the Landes and France’s overseas empire. Finally, it attests to the porosity of the boundary between man-made and natural landscapes, while illuminating the process by which the artificial forested landscape of the Landes ironically came to be redefined and revalorized as “natural” national heritage that was ripe for environmental protection by the second half of the twentieth century.

The aspect of Professor Hartz's book which I find particularly challenging, but with which I cannot wholly agree, is his view that American politics is characterized by an absence of fundamental conflicts. I do agree that American political struggles have been different from those of Europe, and that this difference can be aptly characterized as a consequence of the fact that, in the Tocquevilleian formula, we have arrived at a state of democracy without having had to endure a democratic revolution. Americans have seldom experienced the particular passions engendered by the impact of the idea of equality upon class distinctions derived from a feudal regime. But it seems to me that the conflicts of American politics, while in one sense attenuated by the comparative absence of a feudal inheritance, in another sense have been intensified by this very fact, by reason of the immediacy of the demands of equality. If all Americans did not accept with such thoroughness. the pre-eminent “Lockeian” tenet, there would not be the persistent record of violent anger and frustration attending what each group of Americans regarded as its just inheritance from the operation of that tenet. To take the single most overpowering present-day example: where in the world but America could there be such simultaneous demands for color-blindness and color-consciousness in the regulation of all institutions patronized by law? Yet both the power and the simultaneity of these demands are assertions of the claims of equality: one side insisting that no law is valid which recognizes inequality of rights; the other insisting that none is valid which does not incorporate their uncoerced opinions or consent. Hartz does not examine the genuine difficulties which inhere in the attempt to create a society dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. He observes the virtual unanimity with which Americans have been committed to it, and he observes that they have nonetheless gone on quarreling. He concludes wrongly, however, that they have therefore quarreled over phantoms or irrelevancies. The reason for this mistaken judgment is the implicit thesis that quarrels which are genuine and profound are always quarrels in which the idea of equality is in competition with its opposite.

This essay deals mainly with the factors influencing the reception of psychoanalysis in Germany. However, I will preface my discussion with two brief sections describing the events of the reception. Please note that as used here, Germany refers specifically to the state, and not to the German-speaking areas of central Europe.

What role did law play in articulating sovereignty and citizenship in postcolonial Africa? Using legal records from the secessionist Republic of Biafra, this article analyzes the relationship between law and national identity in an extreme context—that of the Nigerian Civil War (1967–1970). Ideas about order, discipline, and legal process were at the heart of Biafra's sense of itself as a nation, and they served as the rhetorical justification for its secession from Nigeria. But they were not only rhetoric. In the turmoil of the ensuing civil war, Biafra's courts became the center of its national culture, and law became its most important administrative implement. In court, Biafrans argued over what behaviors were permissible in wartime, and judges used law to draw the boundaries of the new country's national identity. That law played this role in Biafra shows something broader about African politics: law, bureaucracy, and paperwork meant more to state-making than declensionist views of postcolonial Africa usually allow. Biafra failed as a political project, but it has important implications for the study of law in postcolonial Africa, and for the nation-state form in general.

Early twentieth-century South Africa was a composite society—“part settler state and part African colony … includ[ing] diverse recently conquered African polities as well as a divided white population.” Mining industrialization and British imperialism, particularly after the discovery of substantial gold deposits and the founding of Johannesburg in 1886, put pressure on southern African peoples and states to function as an integrated labor market, and on their leaders to submit to an overarching political authority. These developmental and administrative rationalizing forces were given greater scope in the years following the South African War of 1899 to 1902, especially in the defeated Boer republics of the interior. Renamed the Transvaal and Orange River Colonies, these territories were initially under the direct rule of British High Commissioner Alfred Milner. They took the lead in a process of state-building that continued well beyond their political amalgamation with the coastal colonies of the Cape and Natal to form the Union of South Africa in 1910. It has been argued that this institutional reconstruction left South Africa with “a modern civil service, with controls and an information-gathering capacity sophisticated enough to … make the competence, helpfulness, and honesty of individual state officials relatively less crucial.”

This article investigates the production of conservation science at nodes of transnational networks of encounter through an examination of field studies conducted during the mid-1920s in North China's Shanxi province by the American forester and soil conservation expert Walter C. Lowdermilk with his student, colleague, and collaborator Ren Chengtong. Even in the politically fragmented China of the 1920s, their research on deforestation, streamflow, and erosion benefited from alliances with Shanxi's regional powerholder, Yan Xishan, and produced environmental knowledge that furthered the agenda of harnessing natural resources to strengthen the state. By paying attention to two-way interactions between Chinese and foreign actors in the construction and transmission of knowledge about nature, the article speaks to the global context of the early twentieth-century conservation movement and adds to recent scholarship that recasts China's encounter with modern science as one of active appropriation, translation, and innovation rather than passive reception.

Private security work can be a brutal world of short-term contracts, exploitation, and under-regulation, where the imperative of profit is expected to trump collective notions of military brotherhood. Why then do so many demobilized soldiers turn to it as a vocation? While a rich body of work has revealed the vulnerabilities of demobilized military life, ethnographic investigations into how contractors experience and make sense of precarity are less common. Drawing on fieldwork with military veterans of European descent working and living in East Africa, this article argues that a central, yet underexplored, feature of contemporary security work is colonial nostalgia. Some contractors read the travelogues of colonial adventurers, while others trace their family genealogy to ancestral colonial frontier soldiers. A few even write their own memoirs in similar fashion. Writing, reading, and living the colonial past through this contractor canon serves several present-day functions. First, the parallels between risk-taking colonial adventurers and the kind of rugged individualism associated with homo economicus masks the tensions and fissures that emerge from soldiers’ discharge from the military and subsequent remobilization as privatized contractors. Secondly, colonial nostalgia forms part of a larger political critique of Western military interventions, of which many of these contractors experienced first-hand. Here, private security work is imagined as replicating an older, more effective tradition of frontier soldiering that is rooted in a logic of settler-colonialism. Finally, fantasies of a colonial past feed into contractors’ attempts to market themselves to clients and to organize their everyday work.

Since 1967 when Guy Swanson's challenging book, Religion and Regime, was published there have been several reviews attacking it on fairly specific points, but none of these reviews seems really to examine his basic premises and means for testing those premises. While the present reviewer has neither the space nor in some instances the knowledge to deal with all aspects of this comprehensive book, she has examined in some detail Swanson's basic thesis and model in order to show where they need modification. With greater care and flexibility in categorizing individual political units and by modifying Swanson's idea of immanence, his model could indeed help explain more than the official position on religion in a given state during the Reformation period. It could also be used in explaining the spread of Protestantism, whether or not it was officially accepted, and it could even be applied to the spreading of medieval heresies.

What are the social and psychological sources of social movements that are committed to (1) equality among their members, (2) communitarian ideals emphasizing strong ties of affection among members and a belief in spontaneous cooperation without direction by authority, and (3) austerity in the consumption of physical goods and also in the use or display of comforts and ornaments? In the course of time what becomes of such a movement as it tries to put its ideals into practice? Many but not all of those that have lasted—and I shall limit this inquiry to examples that have lasted for at least several generations—have become quite wealthy. How and why does this change come about, and what are its consequences?

Megasthenes was an eyewitness to the reign of Chandragupta Maurya, maker of the first India-wide empire (from ca. 321 BCE). The army with which he made that empire depended largely upon the supply of men, horses, elephants, and oxen, a sector which may be called military livestock. Megasthenes’ account of this large sector of government expense and the policies under which it operated gives important testimony about the causes of Chandragupta's success, namely the maintenance of a royal monopoly of horses, elephants, and arms, payment of the soldiers in peacetime and war, the demilitarization of the farmers, and the separation of the soldiers from the land. Over the long run of Indian history, from the Mauryan Empire to the present, the environmental roots of the political order lay in the complementary distribution of horse and elephant country, to the dry west and humid east of a line running down the middle of the Subcontinent; that is, respectively, the valleys of the Indus and the Ganga. The dominating power of India has always had its capital in elephant country, the valley of the Ganga, in cities from Pataliputra (Patna) to Kanauj to Delhi, in a position from which to control the eastward flow of horses and the westward flow of elephants to other states.

If I have understood Obeyesekere correctly, his paper on the ritual of the Sanni demons has two major concerns: to describe and interpret the dynamics of a dramatic healing ritual and to identify the symptoms represented symbolically by the Sanni demons. The ritual of the eighteen demons is presented as a dramatic confrontation between the forces of good, the gods, and those of evil, the disease-causing demons. The story line is provided by texts recounting original mythic encounters between the Buddhas and the demons. A degree of abreaction is achieved by the patient who is drawn into the drama as well as by the audience for whom the drama acts as an alleviator of tensions and reinforcer of religious values. After observing that each of the eighteen demons represents a discrete set of symptoms and that the system of Ayurvēdic medicine currently popular in Ceylon is a naturalistic one, Obeyesekere uses comparative linguistic and myth materials from other parts of India to demonstrate that the demons once represented physical rather than psychological symptoms and that psychological content has gradually come to replace an earlier set of organic, naturalistic representations.