I introduce the topic, theme, central argument of the study, and its setting in Gulf petro-monarchies. I discuss the relevant scholarly literature, especially as it concerns ways in which religion (and specifically, Islam) has been used by political actors to advance particular interests. I provide a detailed elaboration of the argument and its various parts, as well as the method of analysis and justification for the choice of cases. I then discuss the context and cases in greater detail, with attention to key features of the historical development of the petro-monarchies from their pre-oil contact with the British imperial power, the arrival of oil companies, the importation of labor, the definition of borders and emergence of “modern” states. I illustrate noteworthy structural peculiarities of each of the four states. Finally, I outline the architecture of the manuscript, with an overview of each chapter.

This chapter deals with all manner of state-derived prohibitions. Ancient states prohibited a broad variety of behaviours, threatening punishment for those who would transgress boundaries. The logic of prohibition was wide-ranging: from the marking of spaces, objects and officials as somehow distinct from the rest of ‘society’, leading factions within ancient states sought to preserve and protect their individual prerogatives. They also sought to reinforce their claims to leadership by incentivizing subjects to settle their disputes in state-sanctioned venues. The evidence for such prohibitions is extensive, but did they add up to something that we might legitimately call ‘social control’? Did ancient states succeed at inducing subject populations to accept their claims to rule? If so, how? This chapter suggests that the logic of prohibition was a site of contestation for both statecraft and subject-craft.

Chapter 12 concludes the Cambridge Comparative History of Ancient Law by drawing out a set of fundamental comparisons, both differences and similarities, from the volume’s previous chapters, in addition to offering further reflections on the field of ‘ancient law’ itself. The chapter opens by comparing and contrasting the Cambridge Comparative History of Ancient Law to earlier historiography, underscoring its unique contribution to existing scholarship: developed through collaborative work and drawing upon numerous specialist traditions and technical expertise, across a pan-Eurasian research field. The chapter then moves on to a broader discussion of ‘Mapping the Ancient Legal Cosmos’ and ‘Ordering Ancient Associations’, pinpointing the specific connections between ethics, law and statecraft that can be observed across the ancient source material. The chapter concludes by suggesting several answers to a provocative, but fundamental, question: What is ‘Ancient’ about ‘Ancient Law’?.

Diplomacy is a political performing art that informs and determines the decisions of other states and peoples. It shapes their perceptions and calculations, so that they do what we want them to do, because they come to see that doing so is in their own best interests. Sometimes diplomacy rearranges their appraisal of their strategic circumstances–and, when needed, the circumstances themselves. Ultimately, it aims to influence their policies and behavior through measures short of war. Diplomacy succeeds best when it embraces humility, and respects and preserves the dignity of those to whom it is applied. Most of what diplomats do is unseen, and it is relatively inexpensive. Diplomacy’s greatest triumphs tend to be preventing bad things from happening, but gaining credit for something that was avoided is difficult.

The state concept is one of the oldest in the study of politics. It features prominently in the analysis of the founders of modern social science, Max Weber and Karl Marx, the former focusing especially on its inner workings (i.e., the state as organization), the latter on its relation to society. Since the early days of social science research on the state, the focus in Comparative Politics has been on both its role in economic development and in nation-building, resulting in the emergence of two research traditions, one centred on statecraft, the other on statehood. Much of the state literature has assumed the presence of an already cohesive political community, the nation-state. State formation in Europe and Asia was the outcome of the dissolution of empires. The emerging states in the early 20th century were all grounded in specific national identities. African states were also born as empires vanished, but they were not formed around nationalities. The colonial powers had assembled multiple pre-agrarian societies into territories with the purpose of conquest and development. Thus, when Africans gained independence, they had to accept a statehood that was not aligned to nationhood. Because the African state-nation is still a project in the making, the exercise of power relies heavily on such means as co-optation and mutual transactions. African leaders must balance the conflicting pressures from tribe and the larger political community, which limits the capacity of the instruments the state to conduct their business. Instead, it encourages modes of governance that are either rivalrous or monopolistic. Lasting political settlements tend to be transactional compromises involving power-sharing, rather than institutional arrangements that facilitate the conduct of state business. Success in the pursuit of such compacts often involves the use of informal institutions that help overcome the rigidity of formal rules.

When did the emotions become political? It would be natural to view a formal political analysis of emotions as a classical phenomenon that was reprised under new and more decisive terms in late humanism and reimagined in the eighteenth century. In such a history we would expect to encounter the work of Thomas Hobbes and Giambattista Vico. It would also be natural to take Hobbes and Vico at their word and read this recovery of the political dimension of emotion as a rejection of medieval philosophy. I will propose the opposite: the grounds for this political turn were laid in late medieval scholasticism. The precedent for humanist and Enlightenment-era political thought about emotion lies with a repudiated scholasticism and its reinvention of classical Greek thought. It is the history of rhetoric that reveals this turn to the political. The thread that links these transformations together is the political reception and re-absorption of Aristotle’s Rhetoric and the modern assimilation of the Rhetoric began in earnest with the most influential statecraft treatise of the Middle Ages, De regimine principum, written about 1277 by the scholastic theologian Giles of Rome.

The conclusion ties together the framing of obscenity in how we evaluate corpse politics. It draws out five key points. First, dead bodies are vital matter, and examining dead bodies can not only shed light on cultural contexts, but it also blurs and complicates previous approaches to visuality and materiality. Second, dead bodies are inscribed with the workings of statecraft. The process of visually manifesting and narrativizing particular dead bodies is a complex social, cultural, and political process that is worth looking at. Third, what counts as obscene is a social construction and graphicness serves particular political ends. Fourth, obscene death is often characterized using the language of the extreme, the exceptional, and at times the unrepresentable. We should be asking ourselves what politics this state of exception serves, particularly about how images can both sustain and resist particular political orders. Lastly, the conclusion examines the idea of ethical witnessing, seeking to complicate the picture often painted of it, and reflect on what it means to write a book on corpse politics and the visceral experiences it often involves.

Through studying the evolution of three aspects of statecraft – what is the purpose of politics? who should be in charge? and by what method should they govern to achieve that purpose? – this chapter sketches the epistemological framework that structures the Chinese Communist Party’s worldview. First, this worldview is teleological – the purpose of politics is to achieve the Utopian promises made by Marxist doctrine – and echoes concepts of harmony predominant in the imperial age. Second, it requires rule by a knowledge elite. Third, the Party has developed a methodology by which it claims to be able to set the agenda, identify circumstances and tasks, and guide implementation. This worldview is essentially monist. Under this conception, and in line with the requirements of harmony, any social conflict or contradiction is, in se, illegitimate and needs to be resolved. This has considerable implications for the space that law is given in the statecraft of the Party.

In Letters from Xenocrates to Pheres (1724) Montesquieu explores the politics of Regency France ( 1715-1723) during the minority of Louis XV. In On Politics (1725) he implores princes to employ straightforward and moral strategies rather than resorting to the ruthless tactics recommended by Machiavelli in The Prince. In Reflections on Universal Monarchy in Europe (1732–1733) he stresses the need to inject morality into international relations and teaches that warfare no longer bestows the same benefits as in Roman times. In his Reflections on the Character of Certain Princes and Certain Events in Their Lives (1731–1733) Montesquieu emphasizes the need for moral values in politics and shows that immoral acts by princes result in harm, not benefit. In his Memorandum on the Silence to Impose on the “Constitution” (1754), he offers Louis XV advice on how to deal with the presence of the Jansenist, predestinarian strain of Catholicism in France. He concludes that toleration is a practical necessity and says priests should be forbidden to inquire of parishioners whether they are Jansenists, who in turn should not identify themselves as such.

Chapter Two lays out the justifications, concepts and theories for the study. There are four key issues. Firstly, regime type analysis of repression yields unsatisfying results. Secondly, Bahrain exhibits many characteristics that make it an interesting case study, such as the Al Khalifa regime and its reliance on foreign powers.Thirdly, studies of repression are often quantitative, and attempts to build generalisable causal models have reached often divergent conclusions, emphasising the need for fine-grained approaches such as historical ones. Fourth, there is a lack of nuanced conceptualisations of repression, and this book proposes a new one, ideally positioned to create a rich net for studying repression. In other words, this chapter explores what types of repression there are, and asks how can we apply them to study Bahrain?

Chapter three details methods of statecraft in Bahrain across the Twentieth and Twenty First Century. In particular, the chapter notes several compelling trends. Firstly, the British desire to sail a Middle Course in Bahrain led to reforms designed to ameliorate dissent through indirect and pacific means, yet it also ultimately led to the crystallisation of the Al Khalifa regime. These methods included the civil list, municipal reform, and even the acknowledgement of primogeniture. It also notes that in the 1950s, growing Arab nationalism and a desire to sail this middle course of non-interference meant Britain innovated and improvised techniques of statecraft in order to repress the Higher Executive Committee.Post-Independence diminishing British influence and increasing Saudi ascendency meant that the government eschewed tactics like public-delegation through parliament in favour of methods centred around patronage. This Saudi largesse had the simultaneous effect of binding Bahrain closer to Saudi, resulting in long-term de-democratisation and rentierism. Diminishing British influence upon Independence also seemed to cause a manifestation of both Saudi and Al Khalifa animosity towards political opposition and the Shiʿa.

The potato’s political invisibility ended in the eighteenth century, when it attained unprecedented political prominence. The nourishing qualities that had once drawn criticism began to be viewed more positively. As a result, the potato became the object of intense scientific and political interest across Europe, as officials, local societies, agronomists, priests and many other organisations and individuals promoted potato consumption in word and deed. This extensive, pan-European potato investigation and propaganda resulted in the publication of hundreds of texts extolling the potato’s potential as a superior staple for working people, one whose greater consumption would help ensure the strength and success of the nation. Its popularity reflected the emergence of the new models of political economy and governance that stressed the importance of a healthy, well-nourished population to the power and wealth of the state. Integrating the slower history of the potato’s conquest of European dietaries, discussed in , with its frenetic promotion in the eighteenth century illuminates the central role that food came to play in modern models of statecraft.

The conclusions of the last two chapters are placed here in the context of South Asian history more generally. In particular, this chapter concludes that the tradition of statecraft existed for centuries without any major influence from orthodox Brāhmaṇical theology, but that sometime in the early centuries of the Common Era this changed. The Arthaśāstra vividly captures this shift. The transformation of South Asian political thought is then mapped briefly in other areas and placed in context of the "Brāhmaṇical revival" of the second-fourth centuries CE and the onset of the "Sanskrit Cosmopolis" in the third century CE. The chapter concludes by arguing that changes in the statecraft tradition at the same time strongly suggest major cultural shifts in the period that brought Brāhmaṇical orthodoxy into the halls of power and centers of culture in the period.

This chapter explores the political philosophy of the original text, which was probably called the Daṇḍanīti. It shows that the original composition was characterized by a thoroughly empirical and pragmatic approach to politics. The statecraft tradition was devoted entirely to the political success of the king, and the only constraints recognized on his sovereign power are those arising from material conditions and practical circumstances. There is no conception in the original text that unseen mechanisms, such as the sacred law of dharma, had any effect on the development of successful state policy. Nor is the statecraft tradition guided by any "secular values" such as liberty, rights, or justice. Its focus is on discrete strategies that lead to the success of the king.