Religius Perspective

THE ENDS OF GLOBALIZATION
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THE ENDS OF GLOBALIZATION
m o h a m m e d a . b a m y e h
University of Minnesota Press / Minneapolis London

Copyright 2000 by the Regents of the University of Minnesota
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Bamyeh, Mohammed A.
The ends of globalization / Mohammed A. Bamyeh.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-8166-3592-7 (HC : acid-free paper) — ISBN 0-8166-3593-5
(PB : acid-free paper)
1. Globalization. 2. International relations—Philosophy. I. Title.
JZ1318 .B36 2000
327.1'7—dc21 00-008035
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper
The University of Minnesota is an equal-opportunity educator and employer.
11 10 09 08 07 06 05 04 03 02 01 00 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Randall Halle
Contents
Preface ix
1. Governmentality and the New Global “Order” 1
2. The New Imperialism: Six Theses 59
3. The Cultural Landscape of Globalization:

Historical Notes 89
Conclusion: Control, Rationality, and

Solidarity in the Global Age 147
Notes 159
Bibliography 175
Index 185
Preface
he fact that a term so unwieldy as “globalization” has come to refer to

T a wide range of events, processes, transactions, and systems may just
mean that its referent is scarcely joined together in any coherent way.
Perhaps only when the dust settles on grand historical transformations
will either more precise and elegant terms for them be found or the ad
hoc terms begin to assume the lasting quality of bad habits.
The problem of ambiguity is less that of the term than of the world
it seeks to describe. Systematic, totalistic clarities are in short supply
these days, especially if one shies away from the customary clichés. The
wheels of politics, culture, and economy, after all, are not obligated to
spin together or at the same speed in response to the global siren song.
As such, the world left to us by the advent of globalization is a world of
logical disconnections.
This book is about these disconnections. A sense of disjunction could
emerge only out of an experience of logical wholeness in which the world
had been submerged since the inception of modernity. And that sense of
wholeness, in turn, cannot be truly appreciated without a proper apprais-
al of its totalitarian features (although these were certainly not all that it
was about). For the logic of modernity everywhere in the world has es-
sentially referred to the effort to construct a new cosmos of complemen-
tarity between economy, politics, and culture. In liberal sociopolitical
theories, the universal prototype for that complementarity was posited as
the nation-state. The conflict between that prototype and alternative
models seemed largely settled in its favor for almost seven decades,
namely, from 1919 until about 1989. Liberal sociopolitical theories,
which live on in some form or another today, saw in this universal proto-
type nothing less than the rational culmination of the logic of history.
Following Hannah Arendt, such a line of thought likewise highlighted
ix
x Preface
the ethical status of the nation-state, positing it as the unique agent for
the dispensation of universal rights.
In this sense, in as much as liberal sociopolitical theory addressed the
issue of rights and battled what it deemed to be totalitarian systems, it
encouraged us to direct our gaze away from where totalitarianism was
rooting itself most solidly, namely, wherever nationalism successfully
competed against more diffuse cosmopolitan attachments and lean-
ings. In an age of nation-states, everyone wanted to hear the good news
that nationalism and totalitarianism could be disentangled from each
other. Only a few had the bad manners to try to spoil the feast by point-
ing out the obvious, namely, that the preconditions of totalitarianism
that Arendt, for example, singled out—the transformation of classes into
masses, the elimination of all group solidarity, a pervasive sense of indi-
vidual loneliness—are conducive just as well to national mobilization. In
fact, they constitute the preconditions of modern mass democracies. The
basic political features of global modernity consist precisely of such
modes of mobilization and organization, which until today were held
across various types of political and social systems.
The connection between the growth of modern world systems on the
one hand and connective worldviews possessing totalitarian tendencies
on the other is an important concern in this work. Today the concern is
that the totalitarian features of modernity most likely to be left to the pe-
rusal of the transnational age pertain to salient expressions rather than to
the bombastic expressions that were the focus of liberal theories. To that
end, this work takes a more basic view of processes of globalization of
modernity in the fields of politics and culture leading to the contem-
porary transformations. The global similitudes constructed in the spirit
of modernity are more deeply rooted than the differentiations suggested
by such procedural notions as “dictatorship” and “democracy.” Across
both ideal types of political systems, one discerns a basic assault on civil
societies—one coercive, the other consumptive—whereby such societies
either become appendages to the state or come to accept the state as the
ultimate logical addressee of their actions and deliberations. Until this
age of “globalization,” the modern state came to embody vast cultural
reservoirs and an entire gamut of economic jurisdictions, ranging from
welfare guarantees to imperialist adventures articulated on behalf of
“national” concerns.
This book traces the erosion of these totalities in our age; the politico-
economic dissimulations are addressed in chapter 1, the cultural ones in
Preface xi
chapter 3. There has been a plethora of negative descriptors summing up

the outcome of these processes; “the end of the nation-state,” “the end of
politics,” and even “the end of history” have all been proposed as outlines
of some terminus shortly ahead. Yet one can argue that the pervasive
anticipation of some sort of terminus expresses largely how the institu-
tions of modernity experience the loss of their objective foundations. For
instance, the removal of the economic pillar does not automatically lead
to the end of the nation-state but merely to its loss of rational grounds to
regulate the use of its historically acquired coercive muscle. Global capi-
talism, triumphant and without enemies, has far less use than in the past
for political protection. This point, elaborated in the second chapter,
concerns the way the political, encased in modernist institutions made
for a bygone era, has little to do but does not disappear. The political ei-
ther becomes self-referential or is compelled by an institutional survival
instinct to invent a new purpose. In due time, either enough souls notice
the anomaly and bury the corpse properly, or the conformist masses of
mass democracies, long accustomed to passivity, delegation of authority,
and taming of sensibilities, once again teach themselves to see beauty in
a disfigured world.
I would like to clarify the grounds for my choice of certain points of em-
phasis over potential others in this volume. It has become customary to
approach globalization by segmenting it into the three vectors of econo-
my, politics, and culture. These differ in terms of their logic, but they also
differ in terms of how humanity uses them as it faces the trials and tribu-
lations of globalization. Today, few can be said to exist outside of the grid
formed by global economies. On the other hand, it may not make much
sense to describe people as existing inside or outside of transnational cul-
ture; it makes more sense, at least as a starting point, to observe that
most people are compelled to somehow respond to it. And the individual
distance from globalization appears greatest from transnational politics;
most people can indeed be said to exist outside of political globalization,
especially in the sense that they possess no direct capacity to act upon or
even respond to it, much less influence it.
The focus of this book, therefore, is on those vectors from which most
of humanity has been excluded, namely, politics and culture, rather than
on what seem to be ineluctable processes of inclusion that are part and
parcel of the logic of global capitalism, which is extensively discussed
elsewhere in the field of transnational studies. In other words, what I am
xii Preface
concerned with are the histories of modalities of response to those fields

of transnational life toward which individuals, groups, and societies make
a myriad of accommodations. That is, the focus on politics and culture,
rather than economy, allows us to explore those elements of transnation-
al life that are not determined exclusively in terms of structures. Rather,
my concern is with aspects of our global experience that take the path of
experimentation, offer ideological choices and room for subjective valua-
tion, and introduce themselves in the context of struggle against alterna-
tive visions. The tale I seek to tell here is that of those vectors in trans-
national life that are most prone to transience and anarchy, even when
they appear to be orderly and institutionally grounded.
These concerns inform my use of the term “rationality” throughout
this volume, which I use in a different sense from that of such prominent
exponents as Max Weber and Jürgen Habermas, or the Enlightenment
tradition in general. I use “rationality” not as a venue of “reason” but,
rather, as a namesake for an integrated vision of the world: A rational vi-
sion is for me one in which the logics of political, economic, and cultural
life work harmoniously to reinforce each other. Thus, a rational vision is
a total vision, which can only flow out of systematic coherence of the vari-
ous spheres of social life. This approach means that the superiority or in-
feriority of one rational outlook to another can only be adjudicated in
terms of its degree of wholeness and integration of the three spheres, and
not in terms of how much it approximates “reason” and dispels supersti-
tion, magic, or conspiratorial thinking.
There are other advantages to using “rationality” in this way, especial-
ly in the context of globalization. “Rationality” as used in this volume
does away with cumbersome and nonilluminating distinctions between
“premodern,” “modern,” and “postmodern,” making it possible for us to
detect rationalities and irrationalities across various epochs. Ultimately,
the advantage of this use of the term consists of its connection to pre-
dictability: Rationality does not necessarily introduce “enlightenment” to
the world. Most importantly, rationality makes the world appear mean-
ingful and predictable. Thus it bases calculations of conflict and coexis-
tence more on coherent and multidimensional assessment of limits and
possibilities and makes them less prone to accident and partiality. A ra-
tional outlook does, of course, change, but the change is orderly and slow,
unlike an irrational outlook, which, as we witness at many levels today,
changes in spasmodic, quantum, or erratic fashions.
This work is a substantial revision of an earlier monograph written in
Preface xiii
the form of a “trend report” and published as an issue of Current

Sociology.1 In this revised and expanded work I have pursued many dis-
cussions in more interdisciplinary directions. Chapter 1 examines the
growth of governmentality on a global scale in modern times. The di-
mensions of “inside” and “facade” serve here as pointers to different
games that, taken together, formed the parameters of the political on a
world scale. Those parameters contributed to the growth of formalist
similitudes. They were structured by the logic of comparative power but
were ill-equipped to adjust with flexibility and vitality to changing his-
torical circumstances. Chapter 2, an intermediate chapter, condenses
conclusions about some of the major political aspects of future globaliza-
tion and leads to remarks linking to the dynamics and use of such notions
as “culture” and “civilization.” Chapter 3 examines the general historical
and contemporary formations of cultural globalization as a corollary to
the political. The notion of “culture” in this sense is further specified
along three dimensions; namely, those aspects contributing to a sense of
social solidarity, those oriented toward lifestyle considerations, and those
most involved in communicative practices. As a whole, this work aims to
contribute to providing philosophical and historical bases for the discus-
sion of the logical connections and disjunctions permeating contempo-
rary transnational phenomena and processes.
I would like to especially thank John Michael and Randall Halle
for providing extensive comments that helped me to clarify my own
thoughts. For providing a supportive environment as well as many stimu-
lating conversations in hallways, offices, and cafés, I would like to thank
Angela Dillard, Barbara Cooper, Vasu Varadhan, Alexander Hicks,
Stanley Aronowitz, and Laurin Raiken. Special thanks go to Kathy
Delfosse, whose meticulous editing has certainly made this book far
more readable.
Chapter 1
Governmentality and
the New Global “Order”
f the nation-state continues to survive and imagine a purpose for itself

I in an era of unprecedented globalization, then it is only because there is
nothing more historically recurrent than institutional ossification. In
every epoch, sociopolitical bodies modeled after the demands of a by-
gone era never fail to resist, misrecognize, discount, or misinterpret the
creeping signs of their own impending irrelevance. Grand, self-assured
bodies with borrowed glory, like the ancien régime or contemporary
misfits, can leave the scene only in disgrace. More salient sociopolitical
structures, like the guilds of medieval Europe (which, as Fernand Braudel
observed, were not formally dissolved until several centuries after their
energies had been spent), leave the scene through a long, inconspicuous
process of depletion. Institutionalization, after all, stabilizes passing phe-
nomena, but frequently at the price of shielding them from changing
currents in such other spheres of social life as culture or economy. If there
is a testament to the disjointed spheres of reason in today’s world, it is
precisely this extensive disjunction among politics, economy, and culture
across a vast global scene. The ill-omened nature of such a disjunction is
most pronounced, I will argue, in the political field, since it is there that
catastrophic single-mindedness has become increasingly wedded to the
imperatives of the exercise of power.
Political governance everywhere adapts to transnational encroach-
ments through one of two methods: by integrating itself into larger sys-
tems or by constructing similitudes to the perceived essence of political
entities in the world outside of its claimed borders. These two processes
make it possible for us to identify a dual track in the logic of transnation-
alism, where notions of particularism and universalism seem to flow from
congruent rather than contradictory logics,1 as will become more appar-
ent throughout this essay. In processes of integration, governing orders
1
2 Governmentality and the New Global “Order”
surrender a certain degree of sovereignty to a higher instance in a way that

involves surrendering part of their own self-definition as well. Today,
such diverse regions as Western Europe, North America, Southeast Asia,
the Commonwealth of Independent States, western and southern Africa,
the Arab World, the Pacific Rim, and Latin America are attempting re-
gional integration, with varying degrees of success and vision. A process
of integration can be distinguished from a customs union or an alliance or
a treaty between countries in that what is given up in the course of inte-
gration is the polity’s self-understanding of its sovereign stature in the
world. In a process of integration, contemporary and historical systems
agglomerate, whether through conquest, incremental absorption, or con-
sent, to form more regionally overarching domains of control.
Ironically, the surrender of sovereignty may in part be based on the
belief that the country being absorbed into a larger system could keep
some of its distinct features into perpetuity regardless. In this respect,
Western Europe and the Arab world offer opposite recent examples.
The success of the integration of countries housing national spirits that
had been constantly at war with each other in Europe contrasts sharply
to the failure of all integration schemes in the Arab world. This is all the
more striking given that state-centered nationalism in the Arab world
has historically been much weaker than and prone to challenge from
pan-Arab nationalism or other articulations of solidarity transcending
their borders. By contrast, individual European states were so confident
of their bases in distinct national cultures that they never had to—and
still do not—take pan-European cultural solidarity seriously. In some
respect, the relative weakness of a unifying culture (based on common
language, vision of common history, free-access passageways, and so on)
in Europe compared to the Arab world may have actually helped the
union, while stronger cultural commonality in the Arab world hurt it.
One possible reason has to do with the fact that unlike Arab govern-
ments, European governments were less worried that the national iden-
tity they saw themselves as having historically guarded would be imme-
diately diluted and ultimately dissolved once they embarked upon
transnational integration. Thus, although no longer necessary, the cul-
tural reservoir of power of individual European polities possessed (or
was thought to possess) the capacity to remain operative within a
transnational association. Arab polities, by contrast, were fearful that
any move toward union would immediately take away from them the
only power base they had—namely, the institution of national govern-
Governmentality and the New Global “Order” 3
ment. Arab governments generally lacked clearly distinguishing cultural

bases, and they were aware of their failure to cultivate cultural traditions
that would be sufficiently interested in the fate of the polities that
presided over them. To the contrary, such polities were usually experi-
enced, especially by the middle classes, as owing their very being to their
unwelcome disruption of former links and freedoms of movement.
Whereas processes of integration affect substantive dimensions of gover-
nance, namely, those having to do with the range of its legitimate operation,
processes of constructing similitude address its formal character—that is, the
structural appearances and tales of legitimacy it must exhibit in order to gen-
erate recognition from within its borders as well as from without. In this
sense, examining similitudes essentially means examining the globalization of
standard forms of governance. In particular, the idea concerns the degree to
which governing systems come to resemble each other across the globe in
terms of their structure, logic of operation, and social role. In some sense,
communication among various systems of governance may itself be premised
on the prior accomplishment of such institutional similitudes. Here, political
governance becomes fundamentally a model whose basic features are rooted
not in local traditions but in its more glorious manifestations of itself on the
global scene. It is an example, a learned practice, an emulated system, a trans-
mitted idea, whence it becomes as it is today, a ritually referenced factor in the
tales of history and society.
This is not to say, however, that governance has always been a model,
to be exported and imported like vegetables out of season to places where
it had no sufficiently supportive local environment. Rather, in terms of
transnational implications, what concerns us is the discovery of gover-
nance as a transmissible and hence semistandard form across the globe. It
has been fashionable in political theory for some time to think of “trans-
mission” of ideas as involving little more than the appropriation of pro-
cedural principles like dictatorship or democracy. More fundamentally,
I think, the notion of transmission under modernity has involved orders
of governance learning from available models on the world stage how to
amplify their magnitude in society, not how to become more “enlight-
ened” or “benevolent.” The essential form of this modern culture of
governance in both dictatorships and democracies was and still is totali-
tarian—not in the traditional and widely misused sense of the term but
in reference to a vision of governance as an embodiment in the last resort of
the meaning and mission of a collective social body. The globalization of
such a vision ossified governance over society in a standard form, which
made it ill suited to creatively handle the variety of challenges that have
and will continue to confuse its sense of mission.
Today political governance operates amid an eroding sociocultural
exigency and purpose. Even in its heyday, its single-minded formula of
representation, expressed in the state system that was itself one product
of global modernity, was never immune to contestation. Yet forms of
affiliation that transgress political borders (for example, global religions,
internationalism, global movements such as feminism or environmental-
ism, continental solidarities such as pan-Africanism or pan-Arabism)
and enjoy significant spiritual force, intellectual support, and centers of
cultural reproduction have so far not succeeded in enshrining alternative
centers of political governance in their competition with the state. Even
in countries where advocates of such broader frames of solidarity have
taken over the power of the state (such as Iran since 1979, Ghana under
Kwame Nkrumah, or Egypt under Gamal Abdel Nasser), the subse-
quent behavior of those advocates ultimately became locked into the
limits of their states’ interests and fate. Conversely, at a subnational level,
secessionist movements that threaten the unity of the territorial reach of
state power do not usually succeed without an extraordinarily hard-
fought battle (as in Eritrea). And whenever state systems have fragment-
ed, such as in the former Soviet Union, Yugoslavia, or Czechoslovakia,
the products have been nation-states that specifically rejected the cos-
mopolitan or multicultural ideology of their former hosts and proceeded
to model themselves according to the hypostasized normative corre-
spondence between nationhood and statehood.
The international state system thus continues to appear well en-
trenched as the normative ideational fountain of a specific and otherwise
historically contingent form of governance within global politics, in spite
of the fact that the economy has become increasingly global, subsequent-
ly undermining the ability of parochial orders of governance to place it
under strict control. This form of governance also persists in the face of
burgeoning transnational communications and travels, which would be
expected to give rise to or reinforce frames of solidarity that are not con-
terminous with the cultural requirements of parochial governance.
Finally, this state system persists in spite of the fact that it has been
forced to make serious accommodations to transnational forms of gover-
nance (notably in Western Europe, which is inspiring models of accom-
modation to transnational governance in other world regions). On the
other hand, it is obvious enough that some of the older international or-
ganizations, such as the United Nations, the Organization for African

Unity (OAU), the Organization of American States (OAS), or even the
European Union (EU) in its earlier phase as the European Community,
never did anything to challenge the state system. If anything they re-
inforced it by both giving international legitimacy to officeholders in
various territories and by excluding nonstate entities (citizen groups,
nongovernmental organizations, nonstate peoples, and so on) from rec-
ognition as equally legitimate loci of governance.
Another source for the seemingly continued relevance of such polities
emanates from a limited role they could fulfill in terms of the current
structure of world economy. Saskia Sassen, for instance, highlights the
fact that in spite of its global reach and orientation, capital continues to
be embedded in one state or another, primarily due to a still unresolved
question of guaranteeing rights in the global arena.2 This argument im-
plies that the state survives only to the extent that it services some eco-
nomic pillar, in this case the question of property rights and, secondarily,
safety of deposits. The state, and the political system in general, is seen
here as subordinate to the requirements of a more organized economic
system. This element of subordination of the state to something other
than raison d’état, in turn, results in a political system lacking in consis-
tent political rules. In one important study, Justin Rosenberg observes
that the anarchical patterns of relations among states theorized exten-
sively in the field of international relations flow from capitalist trajecto-
ries that, according to Marx, ultimately cause a decoupling of political
and economic structures of action. Marx observed that capitalists, as
they resist political control and regulation but simultaneously pursue
economic centralization in their own enterprise, introduce anarchy to the
political realm and order to the economic one.3 Placed in today’s trans-
national context, in which states operate in an environment shaped by an
economy that is more integrated globally than are states and in which
transnational corporations seem more rationally organized and purpose-
ful than political units, one can readily detect one source of the funda-
mentally anarchic logic of relation between states today,4 lacking as they
are in a strategic logic that would be expected to inform the wide variety
of intermittent actions that are expected of them.5
What must not be forgotten, however, is that this anarchy also ema-
nates from and advises the structure of much of modern political science
itself, which has become a self-enclosed science of power embedded in a
self-enclosed world of politics, with only the most superficial links to
more-integrated systems of inquiry. At one point, Stanley Hoffmann

argued that the very existence of a field of inquiry like international
relations was part and parcel of the practical imperatives of U.S. foreign
policy after World War II. This proximity to the “dirty world” of political
imperatives further detached the field from any serious cultural or philo-
sophical concerns, as it became relegated to an advisory role and struc-
tured largely around predictive and applicable theories.6 But it is also
symptomatic of these times that the heritage of the realist paradigm in
international relations, with its emphasis on states as autonomous players
acting on behalf of their own interests as states, has been repudiated and
assaulted even within the realm of political theory itself.7 States could re-
duce global political anarchy by redefining the role of the state in society
and vis-à-vis other states. The various attempts at transnational integra-
tion show that under certain circumstances orders of governance are
willing to negotiate a partial surrender of their sovereignty, in such a way
as to reduce the range of their claims and obligations, and thereby the
potential for anarchic and accidental calculations in their relations with
other states. But as will become apparent later in this chapter, the moti-
vations for such moves are less likely to emerge out of the innate logic of
governance than out of processes in economic and cultural life that in-
variably reduce the degree of control that would be exercised by a system
of governance over society.
One of the major political aspects of global modernity has been that
every state in the world had to regard itself not only in the context of
other states but also as a unique institution with rules that are innate to
it. The struggle of polities for survival in a world teeming with other
polities follows the dictates of a modernist understanding of the art of
politics, which sets it as a realm of self-sufficient logical necessity. Michel
Foucault argues that Machiavelli’s Prince marks the foundation of a no-
tion of externality of the prince to the principality, with the two existing
without a “fundamental, essential, natural and juridical connection.” The
art of governing then becomes an art of guarding against dangers implicit
in this logical disjunction.8 Extending the argument, Colin Gordon docu-
ments the growth of a notion of a state as its own self-referential mys-
tery, with a self-generated basis for being (raison d’état).9 In one sense,
the sufficiency of raison d’état expresses the lack of necessity for the po-
litical to be structurally rooted in any origins exterior to politics proper.
If philosophical ideas express the spirit of their times, then perhaps
one can argue that the disjunction of the political is simply one aspect of
the disjunctions in the spheres of reason, which Max Weber outlined

earlier in the twentieth century. One interesting example of the implica-
tions of such disjuncture is given by the late structuralist thinker E. W.
Ardener, who once offered a general illustration of the indeterminacy of
“structure” through the example of a chess problem: By looking only at
the problem, one cannot determine whether the current setup resulted
from a game that had actually been played (that is, out of an actual “his-
tory”) or whether it had simply been constructed for its own sake.10 At
the moment it is given the chess problem looks the same regardless of
where it came from. Its presence is not affected by whether or not it has a
history or logical roots in an evolutionary process. Ardener does not con-
sider the possibility that one source of indeterminacy concerns the “rules
of the game.” That is, the very ability to analyze the given game presup-
poses a knowledge of its rules. By invoking the rules, one can begin to
chart out the problem’s past trajectory, only to realize that such rules are
insufficient for ascertaining the problem’s historicity. The indeterminacy
is thus built into the rules of the game. The function of the rules is to
create a game and give us the capacity to play it. In other words, the
“rules of the game” bring the game into being by ensuring its future, not
its history. The players are expected to use the rules to play, not to ponder
the essential link of the game to the larger world. That is to say, with the
acquisition of a set of rules for its presentation and performance, the
game becomes a self-sufficient substitute for the world rather than its logi-
cal embodiment or a representation of its essence.
If we apply this principle of the game to the rules of relations among
states within the existent international state system, we come to recog-
nize the lack of necessary or logical connectedness of these rules to any
ground exterior to the game proper, or even to economic determinations.
One can only describe rules of playing that are fundamentally trans-
national in character. In the international state system, states use a spe-
cific set of rules to relate to other states (prefigured in the codes of sover-
eignty and domain; agreements and treaties; representation, diplomacy,
and negotiations; and balances of power, up to and including war calcu-
lations).11 In this kind of world, sovereign governance is defined primarily
by a sharp distinction between an inside and an outside. The outside—
for which Machiavelli, Karl von Clausewitz, and modern day realists
constructed their models—is governed by the rules of a global game with
no organic, exclusive, or unique links to historical, ontological, or even
socioeconomic grounds. From a global perspective, the ubiquity of the
state system as a locus of governance must be seen as being embedded in

the nature of the rules by which the state is expected to play vis-à-vis
other states rather than as the result of any inborn nature of the state it-
self. The inside, also seen from a global perspective, is governed by the
imperatives of constructing similitude, whereby local transformations are
ultimately geared toward creating a globally recognizable, that is, legiti-
mate, player. Some will insist on evidence for even this elementary point.
I can here do no more than point out once more that the world gives us
no shortage of examples of postcolonial states that are more meaningful
from the perspective of the “international community” than from that of
their constituents. In a more general fashion, in what follows I would
like to chart briefly the contours and transformations of these two di-
mensions of inside and facade leading up to the contemporary scene.
Historical Contours of the Inside: Magnitude and Multiplicity

One of the most obvious but nevertheless overlooked facts regarding the
internationalization of the state system of governance in modern times
concerns its remarkable unevenness along such crucial dimensions as in-
ternal legitimacy, cultural support mechanisms, or need of constituents.
The unevenness can be traced to the spread of globally standard rules
of collective embodiment of an imagined constituency. As outlined in
Benedict Anderson’s theory of nationalism, the need for new rules for such
an embodiment flows from the replacement of vertical loyalties with
horizontal solidarities.12 What is not emphasized as well in Anderson’s
outline, however, is the opportunistic role of governance in promoting
such a horizontality13 and its differential capacity to push such a trans-
formation through. The widespread use of the term “nation building” in
development literature in itself testifies to this fact, namely, that a nation
frequently has to be “built” so as to correspond to an institutional struc-
ture that developed ahead of it.
The impetus for modern state formation in the colonial world was
by and large initially exogenous, and it has remained largely such. In
Europe, by contrast, the diachronic precedence of the political institu-
tion over the collective identity represents indigenous historical develop-
ments in which the institution and the “spirit” eventually came to sup-
port each other. In this way, there was a dialectic rather than a purely
voluntaristic, unidirectional process of national emergence. Modern sys-
tems of governance, expected to rhetorically represent a general will for
which they stand, amplify that will beyond what it would have become if
governance could have been found in cultural idioms other than those of
collective will (for example, if governance corresponded more to a divine
dictate from above or if it were expected to assume a merely arbitrative,
administrative, or purely technocratic function). Of course, the emer-
gence of ideas of representation or embodiment did not follow a smooth
or unopposed trajectory. Rousseau’s well-known ambivalence toward
mass representative democracy—on the ground that the populace exer-
cises its voice only at the moment of election rather than continuously—
points to an early point of struggle over the question of whether the state
as a political structure can ever succeed in representing such a thing as
“popular will” in a pristine or unadulterated fashion. But Rousseau does
not rule today.
The genesis of the modern state system as a standard form of embodi-
ment capable of playing on a global scene required the aggrandizement
of two fundamental internal rules: that there was horizontal solidarity in
the polity and that a political structure could stand permanently on behalf
of such solidarity in the larger world. These claims, of course, are used
regardless as to whether the system is a “democracy” or a “dictatorship.”
Before modernity, the “magnitude” of governance—meaning its self-
understanding of its role regarding society—varied widely through his-
tory. On the one end of the spectrum we see forms of governance that
understood their role as especially transformative, extractive, or interven-
tionist, often with divine blessing. This kind of understanding of gover-
nance’s prerogatives and essentiality can be seen in the wide range of
historical systems to which the term “absolutism” is usually applied, al-
though these forms of government are not confined to absolutist experi-
ments. The antithetical model, in which the idea of governance meant
some variation on the idea of arbitration and minimal social regulation
of a self-organized civic society, has its famous historical prototypes in
ancient Greece or Carthage, as well as throughout nomadic societies
down to the present.
Similarly, if we consider other indicators of the role of governance in
society, such as its legal claim to monopoly over power or representation,
we also find a great deal of premodern diversity. On one extreme are
those experiences in which several sources of governance simultaneously
exercised recognized rule over the same population, such as in early me-
dieval northwestern Europe, where competing claims of governorship
(communal, feudal, and religious) maintained a negotiated balance in
contiguous and overlapping territories for several centuries after the fall
of the Roman Empire. Conflict between those sources of governance,

though not uncommon, rarely led to challenges to the principle of multi-
ple sovereignty until the late-medieval period.14 In this sense, the idea of
the gemeinschaft did not spell out sharp distinctions; rather, it included
the possibility of multiple levels of loyalty and solidarity. Loyalty to me-
dieval kingdoms, as the historian Susan Reynolds argues, could exist side
by side with loyalty to local community or church. The idea of distinct
peoplehood, which she otherwise argues was the basis for kingship, did
not apparently presuppose that that distinction had by necessity to be ex-
pressed exclusively through the state.15 The contemporary discourse of
“autonomy,” which in many ways also spells out the practical need to re-
duce the weight of the overarching singularity of governance, may thus
be prefigured or even fruitfully modeled after an ancient idea of multiple
sovereignties.16
Seen from “above,” however, an openness to a principle of “multiple
sovereignties” may, over time and given the right conditions, be sublated
into a principle of “multiple peoplehood” exposed to the same sovereignty.
Experiences of ruling that were more universal in orientation had little
problem in seeing that it was in the nature of things that a diversity of
population groups can be exposed to a singular source of governance, to
the extent that such governance exhibited confidence in its imperial
claims and possessed the capacity to act upon them. These models are
well known throughout history, since tales of successful domination be-
yond linguistic, ethnic, or territorial lines tend to be memorable precisely
because they are so exceptionally luminous and also because they become
coterminous with the production of a wider cultural identity that we call
“civilization.” Articulations of this transcultural and civilizational basis
of real or potential systems of governance vary in terms of its ideational
association: from a notion of general order (Pax Romana), to the trans-
national aristocracy of the faithful (the Islamic umma), to the universal-
izing ethos of “white man’s burden” under colonialism.
Although those are noisy large moments (a farcical copy of which we
today endure, with the usual vulgarity and intellectual dullness one has
come to expect under Pax Americana), it is worth keeping in mind that
the aforementioned model has also been articulated on smaller scales,
such as in the European Ständestaat or the Netherlandic and Swiss fed-
erations. These smaller variations on the idea of “multiple peoplehood”
amended the imperial vision, notably by entertaining a notion of gover-
nance that recognized the diversity both of its sources and of the popula-
tion groups subject to it. The flexibility and demure scale of these non-
imperial variations on the model is perhaps responsible for its presence
under very different historical circumstances, such as in African polities
that were proximate to the occasionally precarious southern Saharan
trade route. One can mention, for instance, Uagadu, which functioned as
a court of tribal arbitration for several largely independent population
groups, or Songhai, which entertained a creative combination of arbitra-
tive, authoritative, and multicongregational roles. Similar understandings
of the nature of governance can be found in the much grander Mogul
Empire in northern India, which in spite of its legendary reputation for
despotism throve as long as it adapted itself to religious diversity. It began
its long disintegration only after Aurangzeb (d. 1707) reinforced Islamic
orthodoxy and dismissed Hindus from the court and, by extension, from
cogovernance.17 For most of its duration, the Ottoman Empire main-
tained an arbitrative and intermittently interventionist role over a multi-
ethnic domain that also included different, even rival sources of gover-
nance. Again here, disintegration directly correlated to the imposition of
a more monolithic, interventionist, nationally inspired orthodoxy that
undermined the system from within and facilitated its ultimate defeat in
World War I.
Though it served as the standard modernist form for expressing the
spiritual role of governance vis-à-vis society, the nation-state did not en-
tirely obliterate all traces of the earlier variety of forms of governance.
But this is not its main concern anymore. When it looks deep into its
dark and lonesome soul, the nation-state now asks local questions whose
roots are transnational: How can governance today relate to society in
light of new or unavoidable transnational realities? Should its purview be
reduced to mere arbitrative or judicial tasks? Should it be redefined as a
pure technocratic machine? Or must it continue to be infused with moral
authority from which guidance is expected? Is it still essential that it
continue to be seen as being endowed with a historical mission, a deposi-
tory of a collective spirit of some nonnegotiable sort?
In the recent past the pressures of model emulation across the globe
condensed many of the above functions together, so that governance as-
sumed the highest common denominator in social life, to such an extent
that all civil societies referred to it as the ultimate goal of their delibera-
tions rather than seeing it as simply another institution in a decentered
sociopolitical life. Today a new vantage point opens up as the state be-
comes less able to fulfill expected obligations toward constituents, due to
both fiscal hemorrhage and various transnational pressures. Thus the

question of state in society, rather than that of state over society, can be
recast anew in the hope of reaching a more diverse range of answers than
it has so far been possible to entertain within the restrictions of the mod-
ernist straitjacket. I will come back to this question in the later segments
of this chapter.
Historical Contours of the Facade: Realm, Empire, Enclave

Summarizing in his own words an ancient observation rooted in Aris-
totelian thought, in which the idea of political community appears in a
tripartite form, Thomas Aquinas distinguished among civitas vel regnum,
civitas vel gens, and civitas vel provincia.18 Only the first refers to a form of
community brought about by the reality of governance; the other two are
more implicated in alternative ideas of peoplehood and territoriality.19
In some way, that observation anticipated that the path toward the
creation of one global standard of what governance should look like
would be paved by a chaotic admixture of elements characterizing three
methods by which governance approached or organized itself in order to
deal with the outside world. The most obvious of such structures, impli-
cated in a notion of distinct peoplehood, characterized what might be
called the realm: socially self-organized, self-enclosed, self-referential. In
the case of the realm, a system of governance usually emerged out of a
growing symbiosis between cities and countrysides whereby the produc-
tion of agricultural surplus, coupled with complexity and challengeability
of claims to land, brought forth a system of arbitration and protection.
Outsiders to the norms of such systems, as evident in the cases of the
Mesopotamian and Greek city-states, were decried as deviants and bar-
barians. That form was also clearly evident whenever systems of gover-
nance developed not under direct influences from larger or imperial
political systems but, rather, on the model of more-resilient notions of
hierarchy. From precolonial sub-Saharan Africa to central Java, widely
dispersed systems of governance emerged from and operated explicitly as
parallels to structures of authority found at the level of the household.
This parallelism to kinship was in itself a universal ground for otherwise
elusive legitimacy. Aristotle, for example, explicitly rooted the moral su-
periority of Greek kingship over Persian despotism in the ascription of
the father image to the Greek king. For Aristotle the proper role of gov-
ernance in that comparison was prefigured in Homer’s attribution to
Zeus of familiar patriarchal prerogatives among the gods. By contrast,
the tyrant assumed the more detached image of the master rather than of
the patriarch.20
The image of the father did not merely signify the right to exercise
and expect obedience to normal authority, nor simply the ability to inter-
vene as a credible judge in disputes. At a more fundamental level, the
image pinned authority on a certain conception of universal nature. In
the context of political upheavals in medieval Japan, the political philoso-
pher Chikafusa (1293–1354) readily traced the conditions of the people’s
physical health to the failure or success of governance in reflecting the
order of nature for which the image of household relations stood. He
found it useful to use Indian mythology as a proof of the universality of
the belief that the restoration of legitimate rulership could only restore
nature itself, for example, could restore ordinary people to the legendary
height and longevity they enjoyed in times past.21 In that case, the de-
tachment of governance from everyday social values was evidenced in the
deviation of the people from ancient bodily perfection. Governance in
this case is not simply embedded in some abstract idea of “society.”
Rather, it is represented as nothing less than organic inflow into and out-
flow from the very bodies of its individual constituents.
Whereas the realm thought of itself as the world, the empire knew that
the world was translocal, and it planned accordingly. Imperial expansions
are those in which civitas—large scale and thus more imagined—is
formed largely by the imperative and due to the requirements of gover-
nance. There are of course the exceptions, where the rulers themselves
confront already formed transnational civitas or older traditions of gov-
ernance. They may accept these as models and adopt the customs, man-
ners, and faiths of subject populations. A famous example of this kind of
transformation characterized later periods of Mongol rule in central and
western Asia. But as a distinct political structure, an empire’s conscious-
ness of the “world” is both detrimental to its survival as an empire and
constitutive of its raison d’être, even when it remains self-referential in
terms of culture, manners, and symbols. The Ming’s fabled isolationism
never prevented them from continuing to conceive of the world most
familiar to them—Southeast Asia, Korea, proximate central Asia—as by
nature a constellation of tributaries to the Middle Kingdom. An empire’s
system, due to its translocal, transreligious, transethnic, translingual,
transterritorial reach, must operate at a much higher level of abstraction
than the realm, even when the empire does not possess the requisite
knowledge system or philosophy to sustain such a domain.
But looked at from “below,” the empire is significant in another re-

spect, namely in that it introduces a specific variety of governance—and
sometimes its very idea—into peripheral regions and population groups
regardless of local custom or need. By definition, imperial governance
comes to most of the world from outside rather than as a response to
local developments. And it is this feature that distinguishes it most from
the realm. Empire carries with it one of the primary and most direct
instances of transmission of a culture of governance. Transmission, in
this respect, does not necessarily entail an exact replication of the nature
of governance as it is exercised in the center of the empire. Aristotle, for
example, advised Alexander that whereas the Greeks were more properly
ruled by a leader (hêgêmon), the more distant barbarians required the rule
of a master (despóts).22 Yet the fact that empire may recoil from integrat-
ing the barbarian outsiders into a culture of governance seen fit only for
core “citizens,” as happens under colonialism, does not mean that the
outsiders will easily forget the model of governance that so successfully
subjugated them. Once introduced into regions far away from the em-
pire’s center of gravity, imperial governance frequently continues to
nourish vestiges and replicas of itself, some feeble, others triumphant,
long after the empire’s grip has been removed from such peripheries.
Between the realm and the empire lies a third model of governance,
which may be called the transnational enclave. The enclave has existed
in a variety of forms and under a myriad of ideological justifications
for millennia. In the context of transnational models of governance, the
enclave most typically exemplifies Aquinas’s territorial dimension of po-
litical community, since that dimension, rather than its hardly exclusive
culture—the enclave can scarcely keep the door shut in the face of cos-
mopolitan spirits and affiliations—tends to be the enclave’s main asset.
In general, two major types of the enclave can be distinguished, and both
are distinct from the realm in that they emerge more as an outcome of
global forces than of indigenous developments. One can identify first the
kind of enclave that comes into being primarily due to an evolving local
awareness of the world at large; its incentive for coming into being is to
guarantee both an independence from and profitable relation with an
encroaching world. Those experiments are generally lauded in a rich tra-
dition of political theory running from Aristotle to St. Augustine to
Rousseau, in which small reichs, city-states, and cantons are preferred to
larger systems, or are otherwise paraded as the norm from which larger
systems deviate by necessity.
Second, there is the enclave that is created by or organically embed-

ded in transnational developments. This enclave is frequently a small
locale carved out of an antecedent territorial or cultural sphere, with
precious little in the way of self-sufficiency. Its meaning and survival are
tied to its outwardly oriented perspective. World history and contem-
poraneity teem with examples of such enclaves, from Aden to Mecca
to Malacca to Zanzibar to Brunei to Hong Kong and Singapore, not to
mention the little oil sheikhdoms, among many others.23 The Caribbean
is usually a good place to study the most pristine forms of this idea type.
Karen Olwig’s extensive work on Nevis, for example, concludes that in
studying such an enclave, so clearly a creature of global forces and so de-
pendent economically on the remittances of the global community of its
migrants, it makes little sense to outline the enclave’s culture in isolation
from its global connections.24 That is because the enclave usually offers
the clearest example of how inessential culture is; in an island so con-
sciously tied to global contexts, nothing is essentially Nevisian. The en-
clave knows that, unlike the economy of the locally oriented realm, that
of the enclave came into existence almost exclusively as an outcome of
world demand for its services, location, or single raw material. The in-
dependence of the enclave, therefore, is displayed primarily in its self-
expression as a political entity, less in terms of its culture, and certainly
not in terms of its economy. Yet even insofar as its political outlook is
concerned, the enclave frequently knows that it may have difficulty sur-
viving without the military protection of a global empire, as we see in the
Persian Gulf today, for example.
By its very nature the enclave must downplay any association or iden-
tification with its immediate surroundings, as it consciously seeks to dis-
tinguish itself from them. In contrast to its immediate surroundings, the
enclave monopolizes the attention of the world. In the ultimate analysis,
the enclave (the oil sheikhdoms being the most extreme example) is a
nervous institution, acutely cognizant of its precarious position in the
world: an enticing weakness, an illegitimate novelty, a detested monopoly
over some valuable resource. Tirelessly using what it knows to be a pass-
ing advantage, it labors to ascertain that as an institution, it remains more
than a transient phenomenon upon the face of an otherwise perpetually
abandoned landscape. The enclave usually lapses back into oblivion upon
the expiration of its largely parasitic role in the world system.
As ideal types, such varieties of governance are not mutually exclusive;
nor are they incapable of transforming over time or possessing a dual
character. Realms can and have throughout history become foundations of

empires or enclaves, and enclaves have frequently fallen back into the local
realms from whence they emerged after the world lost interest in them—
for example, Zanzibar, Malacca, or Hong Kong, but not Kuwait, which
continues to be interesting on its own largely from the point of view of its
transnational associations. And empires, after their dissolution, have
often left their imprints on the realms and enclaves that sprang from their
decomposing shells. Thereby, even after their death empires left behind
cultural reservoirs that could be drawn upon to justify a wide variety of
subsequent political orders (for example, Christianity after Rome, Islam
after the conquests, Confucianism after the early Hans). Transmutations
and overlaps notwithstanding, realm, empire, and enclave can be fruitfully
analyzed as ideal types, because each produces a culture of governance
rooted in its own specific conception of its standing in the world at large.
In recent times, these ideal types have continued their presence in
various discourses of political culture, although such discourses are in-
variably flavored with the requisites of national rhetoric. For instance,
while the nation-state imposes limits on the articulations of imperial
ideas in the old sense, one finds the empire in the attempt to imagine the
universality of some aspect of national culture. Such claims—frequently
heard from politicians—as the assertion that “American culture” is glob-
al culture, or that “French civilization” inspires far beyond the mother
country, paradoxically wed a feeling of national distinction to a belief in
its universal character. The illusion here is that the empire is the source
of universal ideas, since universal ideas are seen to emanate from a center
of power rather than from the logic of the world system at large. Re-
gardless of how the world adjusts to or produces variations of modernity,
the logic of empire today is inscribed in this will of one political center or
another to see itself at the source of all such metamorphoses.
Transforming the Facade

In recent history the imposition of the straitjacket of the nation-state on
these diverse origins must be understood in terms of the predominance
of the Eurocentric attention to the question of nationalities after World
War I. The transformation processes show a great deal of variety, and it is
possible only to suggest the most general of patterns. But if we keep in
mind the three models just introduced, then we can approach the global
trend toward the nation-state at a lower level of generality, that is, by
proposing three models of transformation into nation-states. That is, the
global convergence toward the nation-state model can be charted along

pathways commencing from three different points of origin rather than
along a single route. It would follow, then, that to the extent that we see
it expressed in a singular form, the nation-state can be approached as a
facade covering up a variety of more salient, yet now disfigured, older
conceptions of governance.
That would be the case to the extent that one is addressing transfor-
mations in the facade rather than in the essence of governance. The
globalization of a single facade of governance was related in complicated
ways to the dynamics put into motion by the victors’ division of the
spoils on a global scale after World War I. But the idea was also a fruit of
several centuries of expanding international communication systems and
quasi-anthropological knowledge, which finally “revealed” that the dif-
ferential entitlements to sovereignty were based on the evolutionary
status of political communities. Here, modern wars on a global scale,
whether “world” wars or colonial conquests, must be understood as being
struggles over political languages as much as over material spoils. The
Wilsonian principle of self-determination, which identified nationhood
with statehood, encapsulated the ideal form of globally standard political
structure that would emerge out of the smoldering heap of the old sys-
tems. The principle itself was closely observed largely in Europe, where
the political map was redrawn along lines of nationalities, at enormous
human cost.25 Elsewhere the combination of this “emancipatory” prin-
ciple with the requisites of imperial domination resulted in an oppor-
tunistic redefinition of the European colonial heritage away from pure
possessions and into a form of “mandate.” The mandate was extended by
the League of Nations to colonial powers for the explicit purpose of
“preparing” their colonies for nationhood. In theory, the mandate was
understood to consist of laying down the administrative, intellectual, and
infrastructural background for transforming colonial possessions into na-
tions, since it was only then (at an indefinite point in time) that the colo-
nial possessions could be entitled to their own statehood.
Of course, it is never prudent to assume that the political field exhibits
harmonious symmetry between expressed and real intent. It is hardly
worth demonstrating once more the cynical maneuvers of the victors
around such a redefinition, and their attempt to keep the colonies under
various pretexts. The important point here concerns the introduction of
a new kind of political language to justify transnational domination, after
the old language of bombastic imperialism had been buried in the ashes
of World War I. The legitimacy of the new language of the mandate was
predicated on an already established teleological vision of an abstract, in-
stitutional state structure as the final and most appropriate embodiment
of a collective, whereafter such a structure could play with similarly typi-
fied states on the international arena, using provided rules of playing and
representation. Various formulations of international cooperation of that
period, from the League of Nations to the Olympic Games, refer pre-
cisely to this understanding: namely, that various peoples could be cap-
tured through a universally standard form of representation, as either
standing for a national body or being definable through it.
The universalization of the “rules of the game” is one possible re-
sponse to the emergence of one game played by a particularly powerful
player. In this case, the model that was transmitted through the opera-
tions outlined above emanated from the European historical experience,
in which the principle of the nation-state was finally established after
calamitous devastation and ethnic cleansing. From there, this model
spread to engulf what had essentially become a Eurocentric world. This
rather traditional narrative of transmission leaves out so much, since new
rules of play do not establish themselves everywhere without a struggle,
occasionally to death, with the advocates of the different games. The
vanquished game is either obliterated, pushed underground, or reoriented
toward a wide range of political and cultural practices (for example, pre-
colonial frames of belonging, transnational religious affiliations, inter-
nationalist workers’ solidarity, nativist mythologies). The growth of na-
tionalism and the nation-state in Europe, and its transmission as a global
game, is the subject of abundant research.26 It is not my goal here to re-
iterate or examine this rich body of work. Rather, I would like to focus
for now on the globalization of a formalistic facade of political gover-
nance and to examine the ramifications of that accomplishment in light
of contemporary transnationalism.
The discussion above addresses forms of political representation that
emerge in the context of expanding domain and expanding knowledge
of how other polities—especially the relatively powerful ones—define
themselves. The world system that gives rise to this emulation is also a
world system of ideas. In the aftermath of World War I, the understand-
ing of the state as an entity that should embody a nationality everywhere
was inseparable from the definition of the war itself as a world war, and
the subsequent definition of the rules of governance as world rules. At
Versailles, Eric Hobsbawm tells us,
[g]iven the official commitment of the victorious powers to Wilsonian

nationalism, it was natural that anyone claiming to speak in the name of
some oppressed or unrecognized people—and they lobbied the supreme
peacemakers in large numbers—should do so in terms of the national
principle, and especially the right to self-determination. Yet this was
more than an effective debating argument. The leaders and ideologues of
colonial and semi-colonial liberation movements sincerely spoke the lan-
guage of European nationalism, which they had so often learned in or
from the west, even when it did not suit their situation.27
This would indicate that the dynamics by which the idea of emancipa-
tion from colonial rule was universalized in terms of national independ-
ence emanated not entirely from processes of autogenesis in the political
life of the peripheries. Part of the impetus can also be readily traced to
the cynical manipulations of the great powers, which sought during the
war either to destabilize their opponents by parading the idea of inde-
pendence before the latter’s colonized subjects or to stabilize their own
colonies by promising eventual independence. Many of the major dis-
locations sustaining perennial crises in today’s world are rooted in the
heritage of such promises. Most of these were either contradictory or not
intended to be fulfilled. In India, for instance, British emissaries found
themselves during the war offering promises of independence that they
hoped would be forgotten after it. Similar pledges were offered, with
more catastrophic consequences, in the Middle East, where the unful-
filled promise of Arab independence was coupled with the contradictory
promise of a Jewish homeland in Palestine. Thus, to pursue the short-
term imperatives resulting from their conflicts with their peers, the great
powers frequently precipitate regional crises that become interminable,
especially since their sources are rooted entirely in exogenous games
rather than in local dynamics and thus are not subject to local, custom-
ary, or established rules of conflict resolution. This story is continuing
even today. Comprehending the recent Balkan crisis, for example, re-
quires comprehending not only the internal history of Yugoslavia but
also the international context, which, even without direct interventions,
made it possible for local antagonists to act upon larger expectations of
alliances, support, and international prestige than would have otherwise
been the norm in a local conflict.
That the national principle should have emanated from a Eurocentric
world refers precisely to the decisive cultural appendage to a global system
characterized by “center” and “periphery”: The center is so not only

because it is decisive in economic and political matters but, moreover,
because it is capable of inducing the peoples of the peripheries to enter-
tain its discourse on collective identification as a means of legitimizing
their claim to emancipation and empowerment. At the height of the
struggle he was leading against colonialism, Amilcar Cabral noted that
the struggle in itself gave rise to a new (but not arbitrary) form of collec-
tive identification, which required programmed accumulation of existing
reservoirs of that identification: “[T]he liberation struggle is, above all, a
struggle as much for the conservation and survival of the cultural values
of the people as for the harmonizing and development of these values
within a national framework.”28
Despite not having existed as such before, Cabral’s “nation” is none-
theless called upon to assemble itself in response to subjugation. The
struggle here is carried out with the intention of severing a realm from
the tentacles of an empire. The struggle itself becomes possible because
the modern “empire” is seen by its distant subjects as it actually sees
itself: not an empire as much as just another realm that has run amok.
As renovated in European nationalism, the idea of the realm was in
one sense self-referential, in another outwardly oriented. In its mod-
ernist European reformulation, the realm resurfaced in the principle of
nationhood-as-resource, and Cabral used that principle against its own
inventor. In the first place, this new realm justified struggle against exter-
nal enemies on the principle of exclusive national prerogatives rather
than the principle of inclusive imperialism. In the second, it no longer
confined the requirements of prevailing in such struggles to the disci-
pline imposed by formal governance, or even to the material richness
upon which it was based. Rather, this new realm placed at the forefront
of its arsenal the requisite of superior cultural organizational capacity.
This capacity entailed both inventing national culture and making it
serviceable to the designs of the state.
The assimilation of this lesson by liberation struggle leaders is suc-
cinctly summarized in Cabral’s line of argument regarding the logic of
national emergence. A nation emerges directly out of a struggle for
power with the colonizer, using the same cultural reservoir: “[T]he libera-
tion movement must be able . . . to achieve, step by step but surely, as its
political action develops, the confluence of the cultural levels of the various
social categories available for the struggle. The movement must be able
to transform them into the national cultural force.”29 Thus the organiza-
tional underpinnings of this drive required the input of organized agen-

cies of liberation (such as the envisioned independent state) rather than
relying exclusively on the resources of popular nationalism or noninstitu-
tionalized folk identities (or, in Hobsbawm’s terminology, “protonation-
alism”). That vision of the state corresponded to the Hegelian vision of it
as a vehicle for the embodiment and regularization of an otherwise
amorphous or passing collective spirit. In general, therefore, the nation-
state represented less an institutional adaptation to the “maturity” of
national spirit than the stage of maximum mobilization of resources
available to assist the nation-state in displaying itself in a world of gover-
nance occupied by like states.
This appropriation is expressed now in a vast array of measure-
ments that are collected and have meaning only in the context of nation-
states. For example, the much-criticized term “gross national product”—
(GNP)—as a measurement of national might, wealth, potential, and
standing in the world—was and still is unimaginable without an image
of society as an institutionally bounded entity. Through this measure-
ment, activities that have more accidental than logical connections (for
example, making shoes, cultivating tomatoes, printing books, consuming
beer on a hot afternoon) are conceived of as together producing a total,
measurable meaning that a monetary sign signifies and singularly evalu-
ates. The fact that this abstraction became a credible measurement of
well-being refers less to an innate or generally felt condition of happiness
than to the rootedness of the nation-state in a drive to mobilize all the
resources it could to reproduce the totalitarianism of its meaning as the
norm of political community. The more recent experimentation with and
debate about alternative measurements of well-being can perhaps be re-
garded as indicative in one sense of the erosion in the scope of credible
state claims regarding the general welfare of society.30 After all, GNP
played itself out as a comparative measurement mostly because the total
meaning of the nation-state was premised to a great extent on its as-
sumed sovereignty over economic as well as other pillars of national dis-
tinction. GNP has much less indicative meaning when various sectors of
“national” economies are discovered to be more meaningfully integrated
across rather than within state borders.
Looked at from another angle, the purely political meaning of such
abstract measurements is evident in the impossibility of adjudicating
fundamental individual experiences, such as a sense of communal be-
longing or happiness, in their terms. The evidence for this disjunction
between measurement and experience is already provided in the heritage

of economic anthropology. Marcel Mauss’s pioneering study of the gift
in archaic societies, Lewis Hyde’s examination of the persistence of the
gift in modern societies, or Marshall Sahlins’s outline of how the leisure-
ly life of the hunter-gatherers was premised on perpetual discarding of
property seem to suggest that the experiences of belonging and happi-
ness are premised, in fact, on the destruction rather than the accumu-
lation of material wealth. The disjunction between the experience of
well-being on the one hand and its measurement in terms of capital ac-
cumulation on the other can be further problematized by observing the
historical rise of psychotherapy, which was unimaginable without the
bourgeoisie as its client and the bourgeois family as its cultural model.
This, of course, is beside the point and not the real question from the
point of view of total measurements of well-being in society. In a global
game of representation, the total and abstract measurements summarize
for the state feelings and mental conditions in a format useful for its
worldly battles, for it has learned that in a world of total polities, ulti-
mate status belongs neither to the most rational, nor to the most “civi-
lized,” nor to the most dedicated but to the most relentless organizer of
all potential totalities within recognized domains of sovereignty.
The Master’s Simulacrum

The rise of total polities in modernity thus cannot be separated from
their obsessive attention to each other, an attention that is itself a feature
of globalization. The famed German jurist and political theorist Carl
Schmitt offers a conception of politics as nothing but continual pre-
paredness against a foe, a preparedness more guided by considerations of
effectiveness than of legality.31 The requirement of effectiveness implied
that moral intentionalities were not sufficient to change the context of
politics, as that context was by its very nature constructed by an amoral
logic. Morality can at best influence discursive expressions permeating
the political field; morality cannot influence either its essence or its gen-
eral course. At a more philosophical level, Alexandre Kojève offers in his
interpretation of Hegel a model of self-consciousness premised on a
struggle for recognition by the master. This struggle, Kojève suggests,
was not over the right to exist as an objective and separate entity in the
world (Dasein) but, rather, over recognition (Anerkennung) from the mas-
ter. In other words, it is a struggle over “prestige.” In such a struggle, the
only alternative to recognition is death.32
Here, what is to be recognized is not the “natural order of things”—

since that is the sphere of the animal kingdom—but, rather, the likeness
of the slave to the master. This recognition would affirm that the slave is
made of the same human qualities as the master, of the same existential
fabric, and possesses the same potential for identity. From the perspec-
tive of the slave, transgression, up to and including slaying the master, is
the just punishment for the master’s withholding such recognition. This
logic clearly influences Frantz Fanon’s psychological interpretation of the
therapeutic function of violence in anticolonial struggle. Looked at from
a different angle, transgression could be interpreted as a response to the
fear that if one is not even more powerful than one’s perceived adversary,
the recognition of identity that is essential for human and historical life
would be withheld.
Thus, in order to gain the recognition of being “like,” one occasionally
strays “above” (which perhaps explains in some cases the proliferation
of fascist or rigid ideologies following experiences of national defeat.)
Without the drive for recognition—which presupposes an Other from
whom this recognition must be derived—there is no recognition-seeking
activity and thus no history. Kojève tells us that history is nothing other
than a dialectic process of power relations that molds the existential
nothingness of Man into a form of being.33 The claim to a “natural right”
is just another aspect of this longing-to-be-recognized, which in this
light is synonymous with the longing to be. In Hegel’s own rendition of
the idea, the struggle is synonymous with an ongoing effort at reconcilia-
tion; the master needs the slave for his identity, whereas the slave gains
his through his labor in the service of the master. The dialectics of the
relationship themselves provide the qualities one must enlist in seeking
recognition: the fear, ingrained in the inequality of the relationship, and
the discipline, ingrained in the experience of servitude.34
In a further refinement of the logic of struggle for recognition, Axel
Honneth charts it out in three distinct spheres: love, right (Recht), and
values (Wertschätzung). These occupy the respective dimensions of emo-
tion, morality, and sociability.35 While Honneth does not pursue these
distinctions in the context of political history, the model he provides is
fruitful in showing how the synergy among these three spheres in one
totalistic system closely parallels the evolution of the ideological claims of
the nation-state. The identity of the nation-state can be said to possess
totalitarian features to the extent that it actively seeks recognition on all
bases: emotive, juridical, and communal. This expansion of the identity of
the modern state, Schmitt’s thesis implies, can be traced to a single source,
namely its preoccupation with a foe seen to be organized likewise—for
Kojève, a master. The history of colonial contact clearly illustrates the
globalization of this dynamic from its very commencement.36 Napoleon’s
abortive yet seminal expedition into Egypt in 1798 allowed such a dia-
lectic to instill itself very quickly: The French victory was decisive enough
to cause a basic reconsideration of the very nature of the old regime in
Egypt but short enough to allow future political developments in Egypt
to originate with the stamp of local authority. The subsequent rise to
power in Egypt of Muhammad Ali is generally credited to the lessons
learned from Napoleon’s short but remarkably sobering occupation. Ali
is identified with a massive project of reform, modernization, state cen-
tralization, and expansion that at one point seriously challenged the old
system of the Ottoman Empire.
Al-Jabarti’s contemporaneous chronicle of Napoleon’s stay, though
written from a traditional local perspective, already condemns the decay
of the very structure of the old regime for its inability to stand up to the
French.37 In a striking passage, al-Jabarti even sees in the dedication and
organization of the French military, which he otherwise sternly con-
demns, more resemblance to the noble tradition of early Islamic warriors
than can be found among the defeated Mamluk protectors of Islamic
Egypt.38 Indeed, his chronicle anticipates the nature of the system that
would emerge out of the occupation. That system would attempt to
touch as many dimensions of social life as the occupation itself had. The
three dimensions described by Honneth are all represented here.
In the first place, that the emotive dimension could be a basis of gov-
ernance was spelled out in a recognition of the need for authentic return
to religious piety. Al-Jabarti describes in disbelief how sheikh Napoleon
had already claimed this authenticity for himself, in a remarkable and
early display of boundless cynicism.39 Second, the need for juridical cer-
tainty was a running concern on almost every page of al-Jabarti’s chroni-
cle. The question of the recognition of basic rights clustered around
questions of taxation and merchants’ property. French practices in that
arena were for al-Jabarti proof enough of the injustice of the occupation,
inasmuch as novel methods of taxation were a central concern for
Napoleon, who had been cut off from France by a British naval block-
ade.40 Finally, the question of recognized unifying values as a basis for
the regime was clearly represented in Napoleon’s incredible claim to be
fighting the Mamluks not on behalf of any French empire but, rather,
under the banner of a universal Islam led by the sultan in Istanbul. But
it was this same unity of the umma (community of the faithful) that al-
Jabarti saw to be sorely lacking, on the evidence of the early success of
the occupation itself. That recognition was also the basis for Muhammad
Ali’s project, which began to coalesce on the heels of Napoleon’s depar-
ture, to bring order and unity to the perilously exposed umma, first in
Egypt, then through a largely successful yet ultimately abortive military
campaign into the Levant and Anatolia.
From the imperial perspective of Napoleon, things of course looked
different. Napoleon was obsessed with a different foe than Islam or even
Egypt when he went to Egypt: The mission was largely motivated by an
attempt to sabotage British links to India. The outcome for the political
culture of Egypt could not have been any less intended from the point of
view of imperial politics. But as one of the first footsteps in the history of
modern colonialism, Napoleon’s occupation flowed out of an expansion-
ist outline of international politics, already latent in European rivalries.
At least according to Arghiri Emmanuel’s interpretation,41 subsequent
colonial expansion into the peripheries can be understood as an outcome
of competition between European powers rather than in terms of logics
of expansion innate to each European power. After an initial period in
which colonial conquest was confined to profitable coastal possessions,
river estuaries, and isolated strategic points, between the Berlin Confer-
ence of 1884 and World War I it grew very suddenly to encompass entire
regions and landmasses. The latter form of expanded dominion, accord-
ing to Emmanuel, cannot be explained solely in terms of its benefit to
the mother country. After all, such expansions were in general less prof-
itable to conquering powers and more costly to maintain than the previ-
ous confinement of domination to small but strategic enclaves. None-
theless, that expansion was made inevitable by rivalries between colonial
powers; by laying claim to a vast region (as opposed to a small, easily
controllable and more profitable part of it), colonial powers were moti-
vated more by the need to deny access to it to competing forces than by
the uncertain rewards of such an expensive extension of authority. Even-
tually, that system collapsed under the weight of its increasing cost to the
dominating powers, which had been weakened rather than strengthened
by it.42
The elementary principle here is that at a certain stage of power
struggles, after the local resources are fully mobilized, additional mobi-
lization demands an expansion beyond the local domain, thereby inciting
competing forces to do the same. The expansion of governance and of the

field of politics in general invariably follows the properties of empower-
ment discerned from the behavior of the foe. It is in the nature of such a
structure of competitive games to reach a ceiling of available resources,
which then has to be transcended. At that point, a new descriptive dis-
course of the game must be found, the range of claims made available by
the old one having been exhausted. The need for transcending any given
ceiling is inseparable from governance’s permanent alertness to the pos-
sibility that a competitor might reach that ceiling. Processes leading to
globalization—which for governance entail the concomitant dissolution
of the self-referential realm—have only increased the number and scale of
foes an order of governance has to reckon with. Today the various stages
of national and then colonial consolidation, which were integral to the
coming into being of a Eurocentric world, are giving way to a different
order of political consolidation, one that is transnational in name, claim,
and character.43 It is no accident that the North American Free Trade
Agreement (NAFTA), for example, is frequently described as a response
to the EU. What is usually missing from the description is the fact that
while transnational economic concerns usually benefit from and support
such consolidations, they hardly value them as “responses.” The notion
of “response” in this context is more political in nature than economic,
especially in light of transnational capital’s continuing propensity to
transcend even the boundaries of those politically expanded commercial
blocs.
In general, therefore, processes of globalization establish logical con-
tours and orientations that sharpen governance’s awareness of its own
vulnerability. The general anxiety resulting therefrom has often been
managed by summarizing the flood of foes into clearly discernible
monoliths, so that a clear strategy of combat could be followed. The ideo-
logical terrain thereby becomes remarkably simpler: In the colonial
epoch the primary struggle was between “civilization” and “barbarism”;
during the Cold War it was between “democracy” and “communism” (or,
alternatively, capitalism and socialism). Today the effort to summarize a
multitudinous feud on a global scale is taking new directions. The sim-
plest summary articulates global struggle in terms of a dichotomy be-
tween cosmopolitanism and nativism. This dichotomy is spelled out
nowhere more straightforwardly than in Benjamin Barber’s famous
opposition of the caricature worlds “McWorld” and “Jihad.”44 A more
partitioned but no less troublesome summary is Samuel Huntington’s
famous sketch of pristine civilizations as the new categories of global

conflict. Huntington’s schema is not another empty academic exercise.
The proximity of his vision of the world to an unspoken official rethink-
ing of imperial centers can be noted in the ringing endorsement it has
received from intellectual statesmen no less weighty and no more dis-
similar than Henry Kissinger and Jacques Delors, among others. This
emerging tradition is to be explored in more detail in chapter 2.
The history of grand political categories, such as those just men-
tioned, is essentially a history of those struggles defined as global tasks.
They fashioned alliances and provided discourses by which various
orders of governance could reduce the number of their foes through
pooling resources against an assortment of enemies, real or manufac-
tured. An order of governance engaged in a global task could thereby
further legitimize its encroachment upon civil societies within its borders
and its increasing claims over national resources. The peripheries of
these grand global alliances provide breeding ground for the political
parasite—for example, enclaves, despotisms, or oligarchies that throve in
much of the Third World during the Cold War, and precisely because of
it. The parasite finds a purpose for existence and a source of international
support in the opportunities offered by global struggles in which it can
offer some auxiliary support. The ultimate outcome of this dynamic is a
political world divided in terms of ideological tasks into three main
modes, namely, that of the producer of the vocabulary defining the global
struggle; that of the consumer of that vocabulary, who seeks to transform
local conditions in order to approximate the description offered by it;
and that of the parasite, for whom such a vocabulary simply offers an ob-
vious resource for longevity.
Capital and Coercion

The study of state formation generally follows three main traditions of
emphasis. The tradition inaugurated by Machiavelli highlights power
struggles and differential coercive capacities. The examination of the
economic foundations of state formation developed later as a field of study
under Marxist influences and is also currently a ubiquitous perspective.
In a distant third place one finds some attention to governability as a
form of culture, which some see as a more significant pillar of govern-
mentality than economy or power. Generally, it is easiest for students of
history to dwell on the role of power struggles in state formation, since
elements of power differential tend to be the most visible and documented
dimension of the story. The merciless process of eliminating competitors

in early modern Europe is frequently cited as a fundamental prototype in
the genesis of the modern state. The wars of the Reformation in the six-
teenth century, the Thirty Years’ War in the first half of the seventeenth,
the peasant and urban revolts of the eighteenth and nineteenth, the
Napoleonic Wars—all precipitated redrawings of political maps. They
also precipitated redefinitions of the meaning of the authority enshrined
in the peace agreements ending many of these troubles, such as the Peace
of Westphalia in 1648, the Peace of Utrecht in 1713, the Partition of
Poland in 1773, or the Conference of Vienna in 1815. European state
wars continued well into the twentieth century and were punctuated
only by military adventures outside the continent, such as the expansion
into the Americas (where European states continued to fight each other)
and into the colonies of Southeast and south Asia, Africa, and the Middle
East (where prior agreements on spheres of control somewhat contained
further European rivalry for the same colonies). Whether in or out of
the European continent, one can chart nearly four centuries of uninter-
rupted and explicit rivalry, which frequently broke into full-scale wars.
The historic connection between state formation and war is a subject
of extensive research.45 It is not my aim here to argue whether the state
emerges out of military needs or whether its very structure presumes a
violent drive to eliminate competitors from the geographic and spiritual
domains it seeks to occupy. With respect to the history of governance as
a creature of transnational forces, it serves more purpose to chart out some
of the processes by which powerful states, once obsessed with the image
of the adversary, create unintended political worlds and sometimes em-
bark on catastrophic miscalculations on a global scale. In one systematic
critique, Jack Snyder analyzed the trajectories of imperial expansion in
terms of concepts that, misleading as they are with respect to the nature
or motives of the adversary, become integral to the cognitive repertoire of
policy makers. The most pivotal of these include a cumulative under-
standing of gains and losses, the myth that expansion is fundamental to
regime security, an image of the adversary as a “paper tiger” subject to in-
timidation, and a domino conception of frontiers and “vacillating socie-
ties.” Snyder found such justifications of both disastrous and successful
expansionisms in paradigms of international relations, which were
premised on a vision of an abstract and standard actor equipped with
universal, utilitarian rationality. These paradigms were also rooted in
what Foucault would call the science of governmentality, that is, in the
cognitive attempts to force uniform conceptual order on data, reports, and

conditions of diverse sorts and origins.46
Although such processes of political expansion have frequently been
tied to the spread of capitalism, governance must not be understood
as simply a vehicle through which capitalism spreads its tentacles across
the seas. (The classical theory of imperialism, which made much of this
connection, will be revisited in the next chapter.) Capitalism, as Fernand
Braudel argues, spread ahead—sometimes centuries ahead—of the sys-
tems of governance that came to be associated with it.47 Janet Abu-
Lughod demonstrates that in the medieval world system a global capi-
talism existed that was characterized by the lack of need, aspiration, or
capacity of most participants to politically dominate others, a condition
that furnished a spirit of coexistence that prevailed until the arrival of the
Europeans.48 In a recent work, which stresses an Asian centricity in world
economy that endured up to the eighteenth century, Andre Gunder Frank
came to similar conclusions regarding universal similarities in economic
outlooks. Unfortunately, however, Frank’s otherwise illustrious project
suffers from a woeful lack of attention to the pivotal role of state and co-
ercion in the establishment of a Eurocentric world. It therefore fails to
register the role played by new types of states that emerged in Europe
after the Thirty Years’ War in gradually (although not always consciously)
introducing dynamics of connection between capitalism and coercion
that had not been known before.
Apart from safeguarding certain trade routes, premodern states’ proj-
ects of expansion were largely met with suspicion or even outright oppo-
sition by the mercantile class. It is remarkable, for instance, that the im-
mensely profitable gold trade of the Sahara remained beyond the reach
of most of the states that knew of it and sought for so long to control it.
One of the most illustrative premodern attempts in that line, namely, the
ambitious Moroccan expedition in the late 1500s, was strongly resisted
by the local merchants and the populace at large, and the sharif had to
rely for the task on an army consisting largely of foreign conscripts.49 In
that classic case, the mercantile opposition to such a grandiose state proj-
ect stemmed not merely from the project’s anticipated cost but, more im-
portantly, from the fear that the state might eventually come to control
the lucrative trade in ways detrimental to mercantile interests. In that
case, the state competed (unsuccessfully) with, rather than furthered the
interests of, commercial capitalism.
Although in many instances, such as under later forms of European
mercantilism and colonialism, capitalist expansion was aided by the

resources of imperial governance, in others it was capitalism itself that
provided the model of stable and predictable governance. The fabled
histories of the Dutch and British East India Companies constitute two
of the greatest historical episodes of such a transformation. In North
American history, on a somewhat smaller scale, the “company town”
provided a comparable model of the total social reach, capacity, and re-
sponsibility of the capitalist enterprise. The classical capitalist company
was often more stable—in terms of endurance, structure, leadership, and
flexibility, among other attributes—than the many systems of gover-
nance it had to deal with both in the precolonial world and in the world
of the frontiers, where the state was yet to venture. Such a company, in
an important sense, was also a proto-state, with full-fledged administra-
tive apparatuses, explorers, and foot soldiers. The Dutch East India
Company (VOC, 1602–1799) was a fundamental factor not only in
founding entire new countries, such as Indonesia and South Africa, but
also in stabilizing its home base of the seven Netherlandic provinces in
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. It was a major player in the
histories of India, Ceylon, the Bengal region, and Southeast Asia in gen-
eral.50 And as such it often displayed a cultural resourcefulness that could
to an extent mitigate the recourse to coercive practice. For example, there
is an interesting eighteenth-century Javanese rendition of the reign of
Jan Coen, the first Dutch governor-general of the VOC in Batavia, in
which he is interpreted not as a company man or even as a foreigner but,
rather, as the son of a Javan princess who was predestined to bear au-
thentic kings.51 The company, thus, could be incorporated into local cul-
ture, which itself furnished the raw material for a nascent mythology of
governance. Local culture, therefore, was capable of infusing itself into
new and subsequent social organizational models, which in turn had
been inspired by the company.
Today, efforts and debates everywhere regarding the privatization of
historical state functions, up to and including social security, hark back
to a belief typical of that classical capitalist era, namely, that the logic of
free enterprise is inherently more efficient, or even more in tune with
interpersonal realities, than that of state bureaucracy. Thus, political
debates once again articulate social concerns more in terms of economic
principles (such as efficiency, cost/benefit analysis, or human capital in-
vestment) than in terms of political concepts (such as justice, community,
or harmony). In many ways, the history of the classical capitalist company
shows that contemporary multinational enterprises that enjoy significant

transnational influence and virtual immunity from national control are
not without precursors, roots, or models that were experimented with in
a long-bygone era. Moreover, the classical company provided a model for
stabilizing the phenomenon of governance itself, both in its home terri-
tory as well as overseas. The expansive company has been the direct or
indirect founder of many enclaves. Those, in turn, proved to be the most
profitable political creatures from the point of view of capitalist accumu-
lation. They allowed for a great concentration of profit and extraction,
with minimal outlays toward social services and coercive structures, as
the size of territory and population was usually relatively small. In advis-
ing the realm, the company offered a model of stable hierarchy channels,
orderly personnel turnover, and essential continuity of policy objectives
(thus predictability). It also offered a superior knowledge system; it or-
ganized, periodized, and catalogued the company’s far-flung network; its
developing awareness of cultures; its investment in communication tech-
nologies; and its cross-fertilization of agricultural species, thereby subor-
dinating local or theological systems of knowledge to secular, investment-
oriented taxonomies.
On all such fronts, many systems of governance that came into regu-
lar contact with such a grand sociopolitical company were impressed
with its meritocratic norms of hierarchy, predictability of objectives, and
systems of abstract knowledge. It is no accident, therefore, that the realm
tried to emulate the company. It assumed for itself the structures and
functions that typified the company and ended up learning from it, to a
great extent, how to govern a populace. In Abdelrahman Munif ’s epic
historical novel Cities of Salt—far more accurate in capturing ideational
developments than any sociological account of the sociopolitical history
of oil in Arabia—the company is portrayed as being always a few steps
ahead of the local “government” in terms of its knowledge of material re-
sources, dynamics of social change, and capacities of existent or possible
modes of social organization. Here, governance in effect transforms its
nature through social dynamics put into motion by the company, and it
is often propelled into action or into restructuring its modus operandi
according to the model of rational planning and control freely provided
by the company.52 But as governance begins to operate in that fashion, it
also becomes, as though half-dreamily and without any specific grand
plan or purpose, an expansive power operating at a much grander scale
than the company would have ever found profitable. Sometimes, when
governance has accumulated so much power that nothing in the world

seems to be able to teach it the forgotten virtue of modesty, it becomes
an overtaxed empire that can justify itself only by continuing to imagine
new purposes. The transnational world of today no longer provides an
abundant supply of such purposes. How much longer can they still be
imagined?
Transforming the Inside

If one considers Muhammad Ali’s Egypt as a prototype attempt to
transform a precolonial realm into a modern state, one can isolate two
pivotal characteristics of the regime’s program: first, the invention of a
socially interventionist state, which placed charitable functions under its
jurisdiction; and second, the territorial extension of direct rulership so
that it was no longer confined to a capital city from which power radiated
through uneasy local alliance into the countryside. In Europe, similar
dynamics of state expansion into society were coupled with a bourgeois
penetration of a growing bureaucracy at all levels, and at the same time
both the bourgeoisie and the modern state consolidated their territorial
connectivity.53 The basis of such a state thus consisted in part of a tenu-
ous symbiosis primarily with the outlook and secondarily with the inter-
ests of a class that was more profuse and globally oriented than the feu-
dal and religious aristocracy that had furnished the pillars of the old
regime. Yet the tenuousness of that symbiosis was bound to reveal itself
in the course of time, for such a state had to be rushed into being every-
where, without having had the time and resources to accumulate suffi-
cient sociocultural and historic foundations in contemporaneous Africa,
India, central Asia, or the Middle East. Although one can detect a nas-
cent intellectual fervor in favor of the new state in many of those regions,
the fervor was largely born more out of intellectual contact than out of
social transformations that paralleled European social developments in
the nineteenth century.54
It may be argued that in a hypothetical world typified by regular con-
tact but little coercion, variants on the emergent model in Europe, namely,
of state-society symbiosis, would also have developed in the course of
time in the peripheries, with strong local imprints upon them. However,
in the real historical world the fateful acceleration of the process of state
emergence in the peripheries owes much to their contact with a nascent
imperial project, which upset the ancient balance among peripheral po-
litical actors and encouraged immodest ambitions by introducing new
military technologies, visions of alliance with great powers, and novel

ideas of governmentality and power. That kind of contact contributed to
experiments greatly varying in results, from Muhammad Ali’s regime in
Egypt, to the Meiji restoration in Japan, to Chinese nationalist moder-
nity. As far as the realm was concerned, national “restoration” was fre-
quently accompanied by a variably successful imperial expansion mod-
eled after that of a conquering power; Muhammad Ali’s abortive attempt
to take over the Ottoman Empire followed and went further along the
route that Napoleon had taken; the Meiji restoration, carried out amid
the great alarm over Commodore Matthew Perry’s awakening of the in-
sulated Japanese realm to the games of global power, inaugurated a slower
but more sustained effort at empire building.
Where domains of local sovereignty were relatively small or parochial,
exposure to the outside world entailed some fundamental misunder-
standings, which expansive colonial powers were to “correct” in their
own way. That correction usually entailed the local domains’ transforma-
tion into enclaves of the modern world system. The sultan of Dar Sila in
northeastern Africa, for example, did not at first fully recognize the
epoch-making difference between the French, to whom he offered alle-
giance in 1909, and his former suzerains of the neighboring states of
Darfur and Wadai. Nor, apparently, did the French fully realize how in-
compatible the sultanate would be with the requisites of incorporation
into a European-led world economy. In particular, the French demand
for cash taxes not only magnified the money economy to a level never
before reached, but it caused hardships and famines for which the tradi-
tional tax system had made allowance. As in the Americas after the en-
counter between the two worlds of Hernán Cortés and Montezuma, the
ensuing conflict of values ended in the demise of a reclusive order that
had been a perfectly interwoven fabric of stability—an order that could
be sustained only by dogged parochialism—and its replacement by a
tributary system of the world-oriented discoverer.55
By the time of decolonization, the colonial world was given back as
parcels of territories governed by new institutional shells, which could
already enlist some intellectual and class foundations for their internal
support. There was also a prevalent suspicion that the system of gover-
nance delivered “back” to the natives by colonialism had the outside
world to thank for its being more than autochthonous history. As is well
known, one of the first decisions made by the OAU upon its founding in
1963 was to respect the arbitrary colonial borders. That decision expressed
an awareness among the new political elites of the fact that other and
older models of collective identification were still very much alive. The
new elites feared that opening up the question of borders would mean
inviting an unrestrained cycle of disintegration of postcolonial polities.
Thus, borders had to be tolerated in spite of the lingering contempt for
their capriciousness.
As later conflicts and instabilities demonstrated, the Realpolitik ex-
pressed in the OAU’s foundational decision about colonial borders did
not experience a smooth career. Though strong states like Nigeria or
Congo managed to retain Biafra and Katanga, respectively,56 equally
strong states like Ethiopia failed in the long run to keep Eritrea from se-
ceding; some states, like Somalia and Liberia, decomposed into smaller,
de facto self-governing territories; others, like Angola or Uganda, con-
tinue today to experience difficulties in exerting a meaningful level of
control over their territories. Of course, many of these fissures were mag-
nified by the involvement of major global powers in supporting local
claims. But such claims could not have been so magnified to begin with
had they not been so rooted in memories, traditions, and cultural net-
works not corresponding to the institution of the nation-state that they
were able to resist being willfully eliminated. Long-established traditions
and identities, after all, do not readily conform to the dictates of purely
diplomatic agreements. The legitimacy of governance consists of the de-
gree of correspondence between the governing and administrative appa-
ratuses’ language and practice on the one hand and a collective cultural
self-understanding and collective cultural interpretation of the world on
the other.
If this is accepted, then one rule for measuring legitimacy presents
itself: Legitimacy can be said to exist to the extent that the claimed cor-
respondence between governance and society endures, pace Weber,
through resources other than an authority’s capacity for coercion. The
more coercion is referenced, the less secure is the claim to legitimacy.
The more coercion is referenced, the more evidenced are the inaudible,
substate spheres of representation, spheres in which an autonomous and
largely ideational (as opposed to institutionally generated and struc-
tured) culture is produced and reproduced across generational lines. That
certain parochial frames of reference survive inaudibly means precisely
that given the right combination of factors it is always possible to reacti-
vate frames in one form or another, even though the presence of state
governance—with its institutions and its incentive to keep the appear-
ance of legitimacy—prevents them from revealing that they endure on

the political map. Governance, however, perceived those subterranean
forces as ultimately absorbable or neutralizable; this understanding
flowed from the philosophical outlook underpinning the organizational
imperatives of the modern state, to which we now turn.
Totalitarianism and the Documentary Philosophy of the State

Until recently the received wisdom was that a healthy institution of gov-
ernance would invariably resolve any issue of cultural dissonance, either
by creative assimilation of the problem or through corrective education.
The totalitarian nature of the modern state, partially inspired by its self-
understanding as the sole product and guardian of “national culture,” was
epitomized in, though not entirely formed by, a notion of governance
as a culmination of a historical logic. Though not always cited in this
regard—especially today—the philosophical expression of this idea was
already in full bloom in Hegel’s view of the state as the site of the eventu-
al embodiment of a spiritual process of historical maturation. Several of
the founding texts of modern social science also articulated that ambi-
tion in one form or another. Auguste Comte’s Cours de philosophie posi-
tive, to pick an influential example, articulated positivist rationality as a
product of evolutionary progress toward a coordinated social system that
would impose some order on the spontaneity of earlier forms of social
and intellectual life. The combination of the key terms “order” and
“progress” in Comte’s treatise spelled out the grand integrative grid an-
chored in positive science, of which “politics” was the crown: “No real
order can be established, and still less can it last, if it is not fully compati-
ble with progress, and no great progress can be accomplished if it does
not tend to the consolidation of order. . . . The misfortune of our actual
state is that the two ideas are set up in radical opposition to each other.”57
In Comte’s case, the political category of order is brought into har-
mony with the economic category of progress in a single system explicitly
imitating the complementarity of contradictory qualities of matter (static
and dynamic) in physics. The total systemic harmony brings together an
economic realm characterized by dynamism, change, and flux and a po-
litical one formed by an essential structural stability. Significantly, this
conception inverted what until modernity had been the accepted model
of the relation between politics and economy: It was economic arrange-
ments, whether seen in the vision of timeless feudal relations, caste posi-
tions, or trade route regularity, that had been seen as characterized by
essentially stable forms, mores, and relations. From antiquity until the
rise of the bourgeoisie and the realistic novel, the best illustrations of the
dynamism of human relations were provided not by the steady economic
patterns of life but, usually, by the quintessentially “political” tales of
treason, loyalty, power, and stratagem.
By Comte’s time, that referential cosmos had already changed beyond
recognition. Comte made it clear that the political field was the ultimate
objective of his general positivist science, a science designed to coor-
dinate historical, scientific, and social knowledge toward the task of
informing political actors.58 For him, the vast field of responsibilities
entrusted to government encompassed material, spiritual, and moral di-
mensions, thereby necessitating that it be informed by scientific knowl-
edge of society, that is, “positivist” science. Comte saw the phenomenon
of governance itself to be rooted in nothing other than the “natural dis-
position” of intellectual superiority to rule. Some five decades later, that
same intellectual basis of modern governance, as formulated in Albert
Schäffle’s social theory, included mastery over documentary, commu-
nicative, and written embodiments of popular traditions. All such tradi-
tions were seen to symbolize, in the final analysis, political ideas.59 The
contours of totality seeping gradually into political theory were usually
articulated in universal rather than culturally specific terms. Comte’s
theory even culminated in his construction of a tentative vision of a
global (European) system, which would coordinate divergent historical
experiences so that they would come to approximate the sociopolitical
ideals of positivist science.60
Thus one of the ethical foundations of the modern state revisited the
old question of how to integrate into it pertinent mores of social hierar-
chy. This was hardly a novel concern—constructions of behavioral paral-
lels between political governance and household relations had been at-
tempted in different ways as early as the times of Confucius and Aristotle.
The novelty in the new representational ethics was something else: It
consisted primarily of subtracting from the notion of politics any expres-
sion of its modus operandi as a self-referential “game,” exterior to all
ethics. It was in an important sense a rebuttal of Machiavelli, who was
neither the first nor, to be sure, the last spokesperson of a tradition that
regarded the representation by political players of general social morality
to be at best a nonessential ingredient to success. That line of thinking
can be found in such an ancient compilation of tales as the Indo-Persian-
Arabic Kalilah and Dimnah, in which governance is portrayed as little
more than an allegorized art of survival in a world bustling with poten-

tial adversaries and claimants. Kalilah and Dimnah was far from display-
ing an exotic, specifically Oriental politics. In the West the very same
theme permeated countless literary representations in a long tradition
interrupted only by brief doses of Kantian, Hegelian, or Comtian schemes
of integration and totality. From Shakespeare to Franz Kafka, there is
hardly a shortage of literary representations of the art of political domi-
nation as little more than variations on ancient games of illusion, in-
trigue, and tragedy.
To be sure, the intellectual resources for an organic as well as game-
like understanding of politics were always available. In the history of
political theory and in widely differing situations, the legitimacy of a
political hierarchy was frequently premised on its reflection of or paral-
lelism to smaller and more customary levels of hierarchy in society, no-
tably that of the household. The theme is abundantly clear in Aristotle’s
Politics, in which the city is above all an integral constellation of house-
holds and the idea of fatherhood itself legitimizes benevolent gover-
nance, in the same way that Zeus’s fatherly status underpins a pantheon
of other authorities.61 Educational manuals for princes and royals liber-
ally make such parallels. Foucault cites in this connection a Renaissance
manual that distinguishes between three arts of governance: “[T]he art
of self-government, connected with morality; the art of properly govern-
ing a family, which belongs to economy; and finally the science of ruling
the state, which concerns politics.”62 This articulation obviously involves
more than simple analogy. Rather, the arts of governance are arranged
sequentially, with each level mastered by learning from the previous one,
albeit the respective spheres (morality, economy, and politics) remain logi-
cally distinct.
As a form purporting to represent a distinct national community, the
modern state thus came to confront some of the same ethical questions
as had the old, self-enclosed realm. In both cases, the attempt to resolve
the logical split between ethics and power consisted of an effort to ap-
pend a cultural corollary to the phenomenality of governance as a pure
form of power. For Confucius the model of imperial governance consisted
of an expansive ethicism whereby the empire learns its ethics from the
realm: The emperor displayed toward feudal landlords those manners of
hierarchy that they themselves had already displayed toward their serfs.
Ceremonials were intended to reveal signs of “awe-inspiring majesty,” so
that governance could become, without force, “the wind beneath which
bows the grass.”63 This “awe-inspiring” quality gradually came to be seen

not as a property emanating from the needs of governance itself but,
rather, simply as a reproduction of other social hierarchies already en-
shrined in society and outside of the domain of governance. In the
Confucian Vietnamese realm, the Lê monarchs actively supported ideas
of obedience and loyalty that ran throughout the social fabric in a way
that made loyalty to the empire seem a simple extension of already ac-
cepted mores. Central to such a system was a tripartite notion of bonds
(tam cuong), with children being obedient to their parents, wives subor-
dinate to their husbands, and, explicitly drawn as a parallel, ministers
loyal to their emperor.64 Thus, side by side with widely dispersed repre-
sentations of governance as essentially a grand game of illusions, a dif-
ferent tradition outlined the idea of political hierarchy as the ultimate
translation of and even model for preexistent social relations.
The transmission of such mores—processed and shot through with
statist ideology—back into the populace completes the story and marks
the specificity of political modernity. Foucault argues that the replace-
ment of the family by more general concepts as models of governance oc-
casioned a postmercantilist emergence of “population” as a statistical
category in the eighteenth century. Such grand patterns as marriage and
death rates could neither be interpreted within the framework of nor
reduced to an analysis of a single family unit.65 Vehemently rejecting the
notion that “society” could be reduced to individual atoms, this perspec-
tive eventually became the hallmark of Durkheimian sociology.66 The
heritage of political modernity cannot be understood apart from the
process of the emergence of those measures that facilitate totalistic think-
ing.67 There can only be a short distance between conceiving of “society”
in terms of irreducible aggregate measures and conceiving of legitimate
political authority as the outgrowth and guardian of an irreducible fabric
of solidarity. The mass transmission of such new tropes, as is well known,
uses various channels of authority (media, literature, education, bureau-
cracy and administration, the legal system, and so on). It succeeds most
effortlessly when its dialectics of power find a receptive populace—which
in Ernest Renan’s terms daily rediscovers its symbols of togetherness—
and couples that with a transgenerationally repeatable educational cycle.
The continuous, daily renewability of this stale, tired identity obvi-
ously offends the sensibilities of the cosmopolitans among us, many of
whom despise both the conformist citizens of mass society and their
cynical government. But the renewability of the identity instills the
propagated themes of power, governance, proper channels, and represen-

tation into a mass, everyday consciousness. These become, therefore, part
of a system of predictable behaviors, in which Norbert Elias sees one of
the fundamental drives behind the growth of “civilizational” common
denominators across great distances. In Elias’s formulation, civilization
appears as nothing but the predictability of ordinary patterns of life. This
need for predictability, which in one’s own psyche becomes translated into
self-control,68 is tied to the acknowledgment that one is involved in in-
creasing societal interdependencies and concomitantly to one’s need to
invoke the categorical imperative. Here the social grounds of Kantian
rationality are directed at allowing the intentions and actions of others
to become readily interpretable to any individual involved in the same
civilizational grid.69
As one of the essential grounds of common civilizational patterns,
general predictabilities are not the exclusive property of governance, even
though their establishment is clearly one of its expected tasks. The im-
pressive spread of world religions, without the benefit of modern com-
munication technologies, can be understood in terms of the need to as-
certain or display the predictability of the manners and behaviors of
distant and unknown trade partners. The spread of Islam into east and
west Africa, Southeast Asia, and elsewhere, where conversions emanated
more from local tendencies than from fear of the political sword of a
remote and disunited empire, is one significant example of this trade-
based process of acculturation.70 Among other things, in that case faith
operated as a system of identification, upon which was anchored the
trustworthiness of distant partners in a world system. Sometimes this
deep-seated imperative of predictability could just as well support gover-
nance’s claims to guarantee uniformity. Governance esssentially means
that predictability depends upon a state’s coercive capacity and threat of
deterrence, rather than on spiritual communion within a less controlled
but more voluntarily interactive world.
In addition to reworking models of traditional hierarchy and safe-
keeping patterns of predictability ingrained in an older idea of civiliza-
tion, expansive orders of governance in modernity claimed a third major
cultural prize, one concerning a specific orientation toward abstract for-
mation: A geographically, transethnically, translinguistically, and trans-
religiously expanding economy ruptures a production-consumption cycle
to which only the tangible participants are beholden. One of the first
steps in that expansion, as Marx, Simmel, and Elias observed, consists of
progressively replacing barter economies with universally abstract money

economies. Monetary valuation obviously cultivates abstract relations to
things and products and also to producers who may be invisible, unac-
countable, or uncontrollable. Its prominence can be seen as a symptom
of the intensification of abstract activities and reflections that is a funda-
mental aspect of everyday transactions under modernity.71
Abstraction in this sense involves an unconscious, daily affirmation of
commonalities with a secular social whole, as Renan famously observed
when he defined the nation as a daily plebiscite. If a community of tan-
gible producer-consumers is to define itself as unique in some essential
sense, it naturally must attempt to set up identifiable boundaries that
distinguish it from the rest of the world. For Hegel, a sense of unique-
ness is unimaginable without subsequently transforming its object into a
formalism, that is, without translating a momentary and ephemeral con-
dition into formal continuity extending beyond its original context.72
This abstracted continuity of a trace of uniqueness, then, becomes a
guide for an everyday practice of reason, will, and feeling.73 According to
this formulation, governance functions so as to make an accidental con-
vergence of interests permanent. As such, governance is an accidental in-
stance holding together a totality of interests that would otherwise even-
tually disintegrate back into their parochial natures.74
That amplified need for an instrument of power to guarantee per-
petuity of commonalities can perhaps be traced to the particularity of the
European trajectory, in which the convergence of interests that brought
parochial outlooks out of their cocoons was hardly voluntary or inten-
tional. An example of a major historical “convergence” is the gradual
crystallization over almost four centuries of highly intrusive polities in
Europe between 1400–1800, which were an indirect response to the in-
troduction of the putting-out system (Verlagssystem). That system, as is
well known, shattered the economic self-sufficiency of towns and cities,
whose destiny became increasingly dependent on market fluctuations in
distant regions. The increasing scale at which such an economy began to
operate led to redefinitions of the sphere of self-sufficiency, whence it
was enlarged to encompass novel abstract concepts such as “nation,”
which, like the old gemeinschaft, was imagined as a unique and distinct
entity. In an important sense, thus, the nation can be approached as one
of the conceptual attempts that sought to arrest an expanding economy
and in so doing to reincarnate an imagined sense of communal control
over collective destiny. This sense of communal control was prefigured in
the self-enclosed medieval town.75 The explicit denial of the contribu-

tion of “outsiders,” which was often foundational for such a system (and
which at a later point was to be spelled out in such terms as “indepen-
dence” or “self-determination”), attests to this primacy of self-enclosure
as an essential founding leitmotiv for the nation-state paradigm, where-
by an enhanced form of self-reference is underwritten by a cultural ar-
mory added to governance.
Paralleling that paradoxical development of systems that were both
large in scope and self-enclosed in their rhetoric was another dynamic
contributing to the growth of an abstract, documentary philosophy of
the state. This dynamic was connected to the emergence of the eco-
nomically accountable “tax state” in Europe out of the old feudal patri-
monium.76 Joseph Schumpeter’s analysis of that phenomenon placed it in
the context of feudal rivalries, recurrent feudal challenges to the weak
center, increasing costs of the unavoidably patrimonial court, and exter-
nal imperial threats—notably the Ottoman. All such dynamics forced
the prince to go back more frequently to local suzerains and ask for more
in tax revenues to meet such needs. In turn the prince had to become
more and more beholden to and regulated by the demands and expecta-
tions of the local authorities. Out of that process emerged a model of
governance that entailed a stronger sense of answerability to a variably
defined realm of constituents and that engendered a rethinking of gover-
nance away from the model of private property. Far from remaining
aloof, self-referential, sporadic, ephemeral, or purely formal, governance
was now understood as the system by which an enlarged and abstracted
community could continue to imagine and demand control of its destiny.
In the nineteenth century the transfer of the three endowments de-
scribed above (hierarchy as a mirror of society, predictability as a civili-
zational entrustment, and abstraction as a logic of embodiment) to the
culture of governance was concluded. The emergence of the body of
thought just outlined in essence signaled, among other things, the silent
abandonment of the Social Contract as a model of reciprocity in politics
and its replacement with a secularized version of an older conception of a
corpus mysticum as a model of sociopolitical integration. Down to the
present, the “democratic” notion of national embodiment in the state has
followed far more the dictates of indissolubility that defined the old
theological-political notion of corpus mysticum (as represented, for in-
stance, in the social philosophy of Johann Fichte) than those of the fabled
(and theoretically revocable) Social Contract.77
Even though none of the theorists of irreducible society and total

governance readily used, or even seemed aware of the similarity of
their constructions to, the model of corpus mysticum, the evidence here
that history sometimes repeats itself almost to the letter is abundant.
Throughout the nineteenth century the enhanced scope of governance
was expressed in a myriad of theories of posttheocratic totality. Many
of these theories saw society as an “organism” that could be literally
modeled after the human body, with the state often regarded as its
head and organizing imperative.78 In the 1870s, Paul von Lilienfeld
published his multivolume Gedanken, contemporaneously with Herbert
Spencer’s works on social Darwinism, at a moment when organismic
theories of total polities were at their peak. Like Spencer’s, Lilienfeld’s
work was significant both because it was a symptom of the new total
organizational self-understanding of governance and also because it
epitomized the new centrality of political thought to theories of socie-
ty. Thus one learns from that heritage that one of the main characteris-
tics of the social “body” is Kapitalisierung, which consists of amassing,
recording, and organizing a sum-total of social “resources” (material,
administrative, and spiritual). Such resources are claimed not neces-
sarily because the social “body” needs them to satisfy immediate needs
but, rather, because they are of potential value for future use.79 Govern-
ment, according to this view, is the ultimate organizer of information
in and about society and the intellectual trustee of the record of social
aggregates.80
Within the larger scope of post-Enlightenment cultures of gover-
nance—and side by side with the globalization of networks of inter-
dependence, economic world systems, colonial expansions, and their
lasting imprints throughout the world—the constituting elements of the
culture of governance just described were gradually transmitted around
the globe and translated within different cultural contexts. For instance,
the increasing awareness that orders of governance had of each other
provided new sources for the idea that hierarchy was a fundamental cate-
gory of governance. In the context of the enclave, the idea of hierarchy
had been determined by the need to guarantee the minimal organiza-
tional imperative of mobilizing the enclave’s resources within the trans-
national grid to which it owed its existence. Thus enclave governance
was particularly attentive to the requisites of efficient administration. In
the context of the realm, the idea of hierarchy of governance had been
grafted onto already existing social hierarchies and thus avoided appear-
ing to be a violation of traditional laws. In that case, governance was ex-

pected to display significant moral dimensions as its raison d’être. In the
third historical model, imperial vision of the nature and value of political
hierarchy went beyond local organizational needs or the reflection of cul-
tural patterns. Oriented as empire was to the wider world as a field of ex-
pansion, ostentatious and expensive power display was a usual and natu-
rally resilient aspect of imperial hierarchy.81
In that sense, the idea that governance manifests society in a con-
densed fashion fueled a drive to copy the models that appeared to be
most successful in doing so. The globalization of the internal structure of
politics essentially meant that the concept of hierarchy as it pertained to
governance became outwardly oriented, seeking to transform local cul-
tures so that they, like the nations of the “modern” world, would exhibit
similitude of essence. The goal of hierarchy was no longer derived solely
from the local cultural resources that governance had historically found
at its disposal, although its rhetoric and even structure continued to be ex-
pressed in terms of such resources. What mattered for an order of gover-
nance active in a global world was that it enact the models of successful
power exercise, and such models were available only outside its borders.
In a world typified by inescapable power relations, that enactment was
more fundamental for the survival of governance than its ability to repro-
duce local culture.
Imperial expansion, which in the modern age culminated in colonial-
ism, universalized a notion of hierarchy of governance that began to
compete against the models that had predated it in realms and enclaves
throughout the world. Many would protest at this simplification, on the
ready evidence that some essential features of Western European systems
(for example, parliamentary, liberal, or bourgeois democracy) were not
always successfully appropriated in worlds formerly dominated by Europe.
Barrington Moore, for example, argues that the process of global learn-
ing in which adversaries learn from each other, though formative, cannot
be linear. He stresses, correctly, that imposing one country’s perceived
model of “success” on another enjoying a different order of class relations
led to vastly contrasted systems:
The methods of modernization chosen in one country change the dimen-

sions of the problem for the next countries who take the step. . . . Without
the prior democratic modernization of England, the reactionary meth-
ods adopted in Germany and Japan would scarcely have been possible.
Without both the capitalist and reactionary experiences, the communist

method would have been something entirely different, if it had come into
existence at all.82
The differences between such systems (liberal democracy, communism,

fascism), though clearly significant, must not be overemphasized. The
differences can be regarded as purely procedural, different means to ac-
complish very similar grand goals considered incumbent upon governing
modern society. These are, namely, the need to develop a bureaucratized,
centralized, and rational administration, which in one context or another
would become the engine of modernization. The Eurocentric model of
post-Enlightenment governance, as encapsulated in Weber’s definition,
emphasized an idea of hierarchy based on its singularity. Its central
nerve-like function in society was independent of whether the proce-
dural rules for governing were democratic or dictatorial. Nor was that
sense of singularity threatened by the unregulated playing field allotted
to early, laissez-faire capitalism, since that form of capitalism had already
been discredited in the nineteenth century amid a barrage of socialist,
Communist, utopian, and syndicalist thought and buried in the ashes of
the business cycle itself. That logic had to escape from Europe to the
colonies and from the American east to the western frontiers. In both
cases, however, the government either came after or was pulled into the
new quagmire. The resulting dialectic, while hardly threatening capital-
ist freedom, until recently reduced it to a politically dependent form of
economic life (as will be explored in chapter 2). That form, unlike the
case of the early chartered companies, required the outlay of substantial
governmental inputs into new colonial and frontier adventures.
Remodeling the concept of hierarchy was thus the first item on the
agenda of governance as it became exposed to modernist pressures of
globalization. The second major cultural endowment of governance,
namely, being entrusted with predictability, went through an equally sig-
nificant transformation. The enclave’s obsession with predictability was
oriented toward safeguarding its links to the world outside, links over
which it had little control. As such, predictability for the enclave was a
property of the world outside. It was thus imperative for enclave gover-
nance to carefully cultivate relations, to play a balancing game, and to
forge alliances in such a way as to maintain the enclave’s usefulness to the
outside world. For the realm, by comparison, predictability meant main-
taining tradition. Realm governance, imprisoned within local walls and
inwardly oriented, justified its presence by maintaining a modicum of

law and order, which allowed tradition-bound life to go on in communi-
ties that were large and complex enough for central regulation but not so
large as to have a need or the capacity to carry out imperial regulation or
expansion. This story, of course, is complicated and cannot be reduced
to the formula of ideal types described here. Some imperial expansions,
to be sure, were set in motion largely by an interest in maintaining some
aspect of already established traditions, although subsequent conquests
added more tasks for such nascent empires. This was typically the case
with expansions seeking to safeguard trade routes linking different com-
munities across long distances, communities that had been tenuously
connected before the emergence of an empire to spread its wings over
them. One of the best examples of this process was the Mongol incur-
sion into western Asia, which was to a certain extent explicitly motivated
by the interruption of the safety of formerly established trade routes.83
The inculcation of new routes, intensification of traffic upon them,
“discovery” of new regions and hinterlands, colonial adventures, and the
demands of nineteenth-century industry—all such factors complicated
the perennial task of making the world a predictable place. That task had
been either entrusted to large empires or encoded in a more amorphously
structured idea of “civilization” and “civilized behavior.” Colonial incur-
sions were repeatedly legitimized by alleging that a traditionalist adver-
sary was “erratic” and needed to be controlled or transformed into a pre-
dictable copartner in a world system of common political signifiers. But
it was not only exotic outsiders who mattered. The takeover of the his-
torical responsibility over civilization by a particularly active form of
governance also rearticulated the idea of citizenship, which Hegelian
philosophy captured in a characteristically systematic manner: Hegel
noted that the state’s legitimacy was based on the citizen’s willingness to
give up ordinary suspicions and endow the state with his “trust.” The
idea of “trust,” as Hegel articulated it, meant an assumption that the in-
terests of the individual citizen were embodied and invested in the inter-
ests of the state.84 That transformation expressed the notion of gover-
nance as a representation of a society lurking below it, even though such
governance claimed to be, in a legal sense, above the task of reflecting
traditions that were held to be “private”—notably, religion.
For the realm, abstract consciousness had entailed the opposite orien-
tation. Even when the function of governance was seen as safeguarding
traditional links, hierarchies, and relations, governance in the realm did
not represent a society below it as much as a larger cosmic plan above it, a
plan to which the realm ultimately belonged by nature rather than by
choice. In the enclave, the abstract thinking of governance, such as in
Zanzibar, Malacca, or the central African states along the Saharan trade
routes, meant the adoption of the spiritual language spoken by the world
with which it dealt. That orientation expressed itself in the enclave’s
abandonment of local spiritual animistic orders (which often continued
to reign unchallenged in the immense country just a few steps outside of
it) in exchange for the great world religion of its main partners. The tran-
sition from local animistic relevance to universal book religions was not
so much a move in a game of power as a maneuver by which the enclave,
intricately lodged in a global system that was both a menace and a bless-
ing, sought to certify its belonging to that system. Thus the enclave, fol-
lowing different dynamics than the realm, still identified itself as a local
embodiment of a universal pattern. But the abstract order was provided not
by cosmic plan, as in the realm, but by the imperatives of establishing
earthly identity and trustworthiness within a far-flung world grid.
In contrast to such ancient venues of abstract self-understandings of
governance, the modern political systems that have infected the world
with their logic of representation highlighted venues that were more
typically associated with imperial bids, albeit employing unavoidable
variations. Perennial European wars and European colonialism clearly
highlighted the dimension of power relations among systems of gover-
nance.85 The elements of power involve not simply technological and
military dimensions but also a system that seeks to organize the sum total
of known, mobilizable, and otherwise amorphous energies in the claimed
domain of sovereignty. The requisites of such a system included the in-
culcation of national identities, the rewriting of history, standard mass
curricula, daily and continual presence throughout media channels,
claims to “national” literature, and bureaucratic and professional transla-
tions of daily life and the public sphere. Once that infiltration of all pub-
lic spheres and civil societies was completed, even antiauthority trends
within modern states consumed their energies with questions of gover-
nance: how to petition it, how to penetrate it, how to reform it, how to
replace it (by another order of governance), and so on. The gradual de-
feat of civil society and its eclipse by mass society left no political center
as clearly ensconced as national government. Special interests of all kinds
can clearly be very effective, but their effectiveness is normally judged on
the basis of how much they can impose their views or get what they want
through governmental action. Their disposition toward governance in itself

testifies to governance’s success in normalizing its claim to social embodi-
ment, especially in mass democracies: It is powerful not because it has the
guns but, more fundamentally, because it cannot be ignored within its
borders. The noise it produces deafens the ear and dulls the sensibilities
toward alternative forms of political self-regulation and regularly strips
all episodes of “micropolitics” of energy, impact, and relevance.
The argument thus far has been that the nationhood principle in-
creasingly came to be seen as the most appropriate cultural pillar of the
modern state more because of the infectious demonstration of prowess
by states that organized their societies according to it than because of the
historical maturation of some lurking collective spirit everywhere. There
is perhaps no clearer example than that of post–World War I Turkey, a
nation-state emerging out of the center of the shell that had held one of
the last of premodern empires. The Young Turks actively sought to at-
tach the country to European modernity. They relied on such culturalist
moves as latinizing the alphabet and distancing themselves from the part
of the world over which the Ottomans had exercised hegemony for sev-
eral centuries. And, significantly, in the process they could scarcely resist
copying the fiercest manifestations of Europe’s nationalist discourse in a
way that reached calamitous proportions against ancient ethnic resi-
dents, notably Armenians and Greeks. Of course, the process was hardly
unique to Turkey; Kemal Atatürk was simply importing the logic of
“disentanglement of nations” as the defining ground of modern state-
hood. That principle underpinned the Versailles agreement ending World
War I and was represented in the subsequent tendency to draw the map
of Europe according to a clear territorial distribution of national com-
munities. As is well known, the task proved impossible without further
genocide, mass deportation, and war.
As a corollary to this story, genocide is not simply and purely an ex-
pression of preexisting, normal human malice (a reductive theory that
became more fashionable after World War II and still finds a substantial
audience today).86 The simple truth is that genocides do not happen
every day. In modern times the common denominator among all geno-
cides and mass deportations has been a dogmatic notion of uncontami-
nated secular togetherness as a novel ground for national empowerment. In
the case of modern Turkey, the Greek retaliation—expelling Turks from
the territory claimed by Greece—completed the lesson of the story: In a
great measure, oppressing a group under the principle of nationality itself
precipitates the creation of that nationality. When Golda Meir asserted

in the early 1970s that Palestinians did not exist, she failed to note that
though they had not existed historically as a distinct nation, they had al-
ready been entrenched as such for about three decades before she made
the infamous statement.87 Though “Palestinians” had lived for millennia
in Palestine, without being culturally or juridically very distinct in the
general region of west Asia and north Africa, they did not emerge as a
national group with an ongoing claim to the right to a state of their own
until they had to pay the price for “Israelis” founding an exclusive polity.
That polity was modeled after the European nation-state, and its main
intellectual foundations were provided exclusively by European Jewish
intellectuals. In an important sense, the embodiment of amorphous eth-
nic distinctions in the cast iron of states abrogates an ancient multi-
cultural practice in everyday life, in shared cities, and along trade routes
and replaces it with abstract national communities defining themselves
almost exclusively in terms of their position within a grid of, or in oppo-
sition to, other similar communities. The prophecy in this case is usually
self-fulfilling, but its realization does not mean that history can be writ-
ten in the unilinear fashion presupposed in the fantasies of national
“awakening.” History is a contorted terrain, whose myriad pathways
often collapse in the imagination into phantasms of unilinearity.
A substantial portion of the history of modern nationalism thus con-
cerns its marriage to state power. This accomplishment signaled the defeat
of the other alternative, or what Hobsbawm calls “proto-nationalism” 88 —
an antecedent feeling of quasi solidarity not historically seen to require
embodiment in a state. From a global perspective there is hardly a short-
age of evidence for the assertion that the state viewed nationalism as
simply another resource in its struggle against foes of various kinds. The
nation-state’s very success in expanding its cultural power was often
based on its ability to permanently swallow up all available public spheres
within a consolidated home territory. Bismarck originally saw domestic
and international alliances as interchangeable, since both belonged to the
same game. At one point, when he had choices, Bismarck regarded his
alliance with German national liberals as an alternative to an alliance
with France or Russia, and he saw both alliances (the “domestic” and the
“foreign”) as ways to counterbalance Austrian power in the 1850s.89 His
international success, in turn, can be attributed not merely to his diplo-
matic skills but, above all, to his ability to accumulate for his state a per-
manent reservoir of internal social capital.
This process of transformation within countries was further facilitat-

ed by the replacement of civil societies everywhere with mass societies
and by the displacement of enclaves, realms, and formal empires with
standard state systems. Governance everywhere became thereby totali-
tarian, in a sense of the term very different from that employed by
Arendt. It is perhaps one of the greatest delusions of modern social sci-
ence to parcel out the notion of totalitarianism as if it concerned some-
one else. This delusion was fostered in no small part by the rhetoric of
the Cold War, but it was also fostered by the fashionable digressions of
Arendt and her supporters, whose customary liberal proclivity for self-
congratulation led them to look for totalitarianism everywhere except
where it really mattered, right under their own feet. The obvious political
heritage of modernity is that governance everywhere becomes totalitarian,
partly in the sense that it understands itself as a total representation of
society and the ultimate translator of society’s will or historic mission,
but also because governance in itself possesses the impulse, will, and ca-
pacity to place that understanding into devastating practice. Mass de-
mocracy becomes its ally toward the perfection of that mission, not its
corrective guard.
Interests, Common and Special

Modern governance’s ability to enlist social capital on an ongoing basis,
especially in complex and large societies, depends on its ability to bring
special interests into general systemic alignment. The notion of general
interest, as a putative measure of totality ultimately entrusted to gover-
nance, can only indicate a diffuse ideological orientation propagated by
the state or populist nationalism; it cannot indicate a timeless sequence
of concrete policies, especially in fluid or mass societies. In “corporatist”
countries, such as much of Western Europe, the notion of general inter-
est was restrained by an acknowledgment of the intrinsic legitimacy of
special interests—except during episodes of virulent nationalism. In such
modern mass societies as the United States it is commonly observed that
special interest groups shape a political landscape increasingly formed by
disparate initiatives that do not correspond or give rise to any total or
strategic vision of governability. This state of affairs has become an ex-
plicit source of expressions of disenchantment from “the system” as a
whole. The general complaint is that “the system” is approached by inter-
est groups as an opportunity to be used, as a marketplace of spoils to be
parceled up, or, to the extent that some forces are regarded to occupy
more than a “fair share” in it, as a basket of bounties to be redistributed.

The system is anything but a namesake for integration.
Domestic political culture frequently offers correctives to general dis-
sonance observed in the system. Custodians of political systems generally
seek to capitalize on or perpetuate feelings of general purpose arising out
of spectacles of mass mobilization, such as a grand “moral” war. Earlier
I discussed the emergence of a global pattern of enlisting local culture,
local civil societies, and local resources of all kinds to assist governance in
a world-scale struggle. The world wars, especially in light of the noxious
nationalism associated with them, would clearly not have been possible if
governance had not accomplished internal mass mobilization. But the
nationalist fodder itself sustained the state further after the wars. World
War I, as is well known, within each country pitted an emergent nation-
alism against a promising socialist internationalism, and the war climate
tipped the balance decidedly in favor of the former. After World War II
the orders of governance that had been least damaged found no better
way to celebrate victory than to seek to consolidate their gains over civil
society, more so than over already defeated foreign powers. In the United
States of the 1950s McCarthyism sought to destroy any vestiges of inter-
nationalism in the name of a dogmatic vision of national solidarity.
Joseph McCarthy’s effort, as is well known, was premised on a consistent
attempt to differentiate the “American” from the “un-American.” Both
were understood not simply as persons or citizens but, significantly, as
activities. In that drastic but mercifully brief experiment, the citizen’s
claim to normative national belonging became based less on a notion of
identity than on one of activity, and it was the activity that could either
prove entitlement to citizenship or, on the other hand, make a citizen
into a pariah.
The ultimate abandonment of McCarthyism did not indicate the ces-
sation of officeholders’ ideological claims over civil society, and the effort
to bring about general cultural alignment continued under less embar-
rassing languages. McCarthyism must be understood not as an exception
to the historical trend of relations between governmentality and civil so-
ciety but as one experiment conducted in a specific historical context. It
sought to solidify a sense of common interest evidenced by allegiance to
the globally oriented ideology of governance. A few years later, John F.
Kennedy would try to bring about a similar sense of alignment in a gen-
tler but more encompassing fashion. Kennedy’s most memorable slogan,
“Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for
your country,” completed what McCarthy had set out to accomplish in

his more contentious manner. Kennedy’s slogan was an obvious indict-
ment of claims upon the system by parochial interests, pursuing such
claims being understood as self-evidently less noble than sacrificial offer-
ing to the system as a whole. Though Kennedy never clearly spelled out
the contours of the “common interest”—unlike McCarthy, who was
more willing to provide the outline—his paradigmatic statement must be
regarded as the more totalizing (if not totalitarian) of the two attempts,
and perhaps as one of the most glaringly unanchored statements of
totality in modern political history. The “country” here appears as a mys-
tical entity with no designated tasks or obligations, and yet one must be
perpetually thankful to it regardless. In this case, unlike in dictatorial
systems, the interpretation of what the common interest might be could
indeed be left to the individual citizen. The task of the citizen, much like
that of the characters in Kafka’s Trial, was to find resources within indi-
vidual means to serve a total system of inclusion, fellowship, and rules;
the system’s concrete utility to the individual could hardly be relevant to
the obligation to belong.
Kennedy’s statement offered no reciprocity. The “country” did not
need to act in any specific way in order to solicit thankfulness or apprecia-
tion of value from its citizens or constituents. In other words, it stood
above the category of “interest” altogether, as a norm of nature that had
gone beyond the need to perpetually demonstrate practical usefulness.
To the contrary, the “country” must be affirmed every day by one’s indi-
vidual contribution to it. Here one encounters a system that increasingly
seeks to claim all acts of empirical goodwill, whether contributing to a
charity, performing community service, or helping a street person, as vari-
ous manifestations of what the country is all about. By being claimed by
the system as instances of what it is all about, such everyday acts of indi-
vidual generosity are no longer seen to be confined within their private,
neighborly, or communal spheres. Nor, for that matter, are they seen to
emanate from a more general realm of affective human capacity. Rather,
they are arrested at the level of the political system that could claim them
as its consequences and reverberations (for example, George Bush’s fa-
mous “thousand points of light”). Kennedy knew, of course, that mass
democracy meant that ideas of “country” and “government” were usually
not far removed from each other and that the government could even
count on any resulting confusion.
In some way, “ask not what your country can do for you” was a direct
rebuttal of T. H. Marshall’s contemporaneous notion of “social citizen-

ship,” which he argued had recently joined earlier notions of citizenship
as a civil and political category. Social citizenship was for Marshall a
modern mark of the system’s material obligation toward those it defines
as citizens.90 And until the social welfare systems began to be dismantled
nearly everywhere, it was Marshall’s less publicized view that defined the
day, not Kennedy’s. The social conditions of Kennedy’s time and subse-
quent upheavals foreclosed for the time any possibility that the memo-
rable statement would become an epigraph for actual governmental policy
or collective social self-discipline. Precisely as Kennedy was finishing his
sentence, the conditions of the times mandated that the welfare state be
strengthened. Today, in describing the weakening of the welfare state
under pressures of transnational integration, Wolfgang Streeck points
out one potential political outcome, which may just as well describe the
shape of domestic politics had Kennedy succeeded in implementing his
own unrealizable dictum. Streeck argues that in countries where institu-
tions of governance are subordinate to markets, the withdrawal of social
welfare guarantees and the failure to reproduce the old certainties of
well-being by any institutional instance at the transnational level will
lead to a new kind of domestic politics typified by symbolic posturing
rather than by technocratic proposals or substantive directions. Accord-
ing to this view, symbolism within the realm of domestic politics is all
that processes of global consolidation have retained for traditional orders
of governance.91 Governance is gradually losing the old reservoir of ca-
pacities to act as a trustee of well-being, whether because of the requi-
sites of integration into global grids of economy and interdependence or
because of debt accumulated in the totalitarian quest. In a similar but
more philosophical vein, Jürgen Habermas argues that “developed forms
of capitalism can just as little afford to live without the welfare state as to
live with its further expansion. The more or less befuddled reactions to
this dilemma show that the political potential of the utopian laboring so-
ciety to stimulate new suggestions is exhausted.”92 I will revisit this point
in a different context in chapter 2.
Legitimacy and the Theory of Civilization

In the modern international state system the legitimacy of the state re-
quires sources of recognition that vary in their logic and motive. One
source is other states; another is the constituency on whose behalf it
stands in the world. The records in the world today on these two scores
are quite uneven. States ensconced upon the political map of the world
tend to be recognized by most other states. But political maps do not as
readily reveal the extent of internal legitimacy. For that purpose, it may
be useful to think of the old term “country” as a populist or folkloric par-
allel on a global scale to that of “state.” Though the two may overlap, their
ideational support tends to flow from different sources. As an idea, the
country has historically been used as a more fluid designation of a cultural-
geographic domain housing some internally generated feeling of dis-
tinction. By contrast, as an institution the modern state appearing on
world maps depends to a detrimental extent on internationally generated
legitimacy.
“Country” is a more amorphous term than “state”; it has historically
been used to describe general locations, states of mind, centers in which
a specific culture is produced, and generally a place that may or may not
have a form of institutional, sovereign, representational, or recognized
governance. As a concept, the country does not require either statehood
in particular or governance in general as fundamental defining cate-
gories. However, there are different types of relations that could exist be-
tween a country and a state. First, a country may be claimed by a state
that occupies a larger domain. In their recent establishment of local par-
liaments, Scotland and Wales have demonstrated how a country may
come to wrest some vestiges of sovereignty from the larger state contain-
ing it. Wallonia and Flanders in Belgium could indeed be regarded as
countries, but they are likewise not loci of statehoods. The same could be
said for Bavaria in Germany or Lombardy in Italy. Second, there are
countries that, rather than being located exclusively within any state bor-
ders, are shared among several states. Examples include Punjab and
Kashmir, which are divided between India and Pakistan; Ossetia, which
is now divided between Russia and Georgia; and Macedonia, shared by
Greece, Bulgaria, Albania, and, of course, the former Yugoslav province
of Macedonia. One may also think of Kurdistan, shared by Turkey, Iran,
Iraq, Syria, and Azerbaijan, or the Basque country. Third, a country may
consist of the entirety of the domain claimed by several states. This often
occasions popular and state-holders’ conception of their terrain as being
divided, which one sees in present-day Korea and in preunification
Germany and Yemen. It can also be detected where programs of unity
are either constitutionally ingrained or frequently attempted, as in the
Arab Maghreb.
Political world maps outline the domains of states, not countries.
That is because a modern political map reflects only formal similitude,

and thus international recognition by states of each other, rather than by
peoples of each other or of their states. Despite their occasional and usu-
ally opportunistic resort to the rhetoric of “human rights,” the paradigm
of similitude requires states to hold to the fiction that there is a natural
correspondence between statehood (but not necessarily specific govern-
ments) and peoplehood in already established states.
Wherever this modern state emerged more due to the imperatives of
emulation than to relatively autonomous processes, as in much of the
postcolonial world, one can readily document a greater amount of effort
needed by governing orders to ensure peace, regime survival, law en-
forcement, and public cooperation with regulation emanating from
above. But in terms of the ideational pillars of the postcolonial world as
seen from the outside, an alternative to the state as such is unthinkable
(and, wherever it is vocal enough, could invite violent suppression).
Note, for instance, the low repute in diplomatic circles of the demands of
Muslim movements, from Algeria to Malaysia, to establish various ver-
sions of “theocracies” within or across borders built to accommodate
“nationalities.” The avowedly cavalier approach of such movements to
the very notion of the nation-state, like the internationalist slogans of
socialism in its heyday, induces much fear precisely because such calls ex-
plicitly refuse to acknowledge the nationality principle for which such
polities had been built.
But in general the challenge tends to be inaudible, namely, the prop-
erty of those who had been thought of as the weak and the vanquished in
the emergence of the modern state system. Whether the challenge to the
idea of the nation-state is conducted according to local (for example,
“tribal”) or cosmopolitan (such as Islamic) frames, its practical translation
would entail a fundamental subversion of a standard set of rules born out
of a prior exposure to exogenous models of governance, models that radi-
ated from powerful centers of world politics. How far the challenge suc-
ceeds depends on its connection to the deepest roots of the modern sys-
tem, roots that had various claims to civilizational linkages. Those roots,
in turn, are significant for authenticating transformations in governmen-
tality; in order for processes of emulation resulting in the state system to
appear to be the result of a world historical mission, rather than simply an
outgrowth of a pure question of power, the emulation had to be clothed in
the more serene mantle of a civilizational program.
As the old world was gearing toward self-destruction in the great wars,
theories of civilization were supplied in relative abundance. In the late

1920s, in the aftermath of World War I and amid the rise of fascism in
Europe, Sigmund Freud offered a thoroughly pessimistic assessment of
human nature in Civilization and Its Discontents, echoing thereby a
widely felt disillusionment with the rationalizing promise of modernity.
That view was also adopted by Norbert Elias and by cultural pessimists
elsewhere on the Continent; it asserted that no society could survive
without rechanneling individual drives or regulating individual behavior.
It must be kept in mind that even then the appraisal was far from original,
although casting it in psychological principles certainly was. The theory
of primordial parricide, first outlined in Totem and Taboo, offered Freud a
way to trace the genesis of sociability in the recognition of violent drives:
The band of brothers discover their collective power through their mur-
der of their father. In other words, they discover that as a “society” they
could transcend the power and authority of the patriarch. This violent
liberation from the tyranny of the father introduces a chilling fact that
subsequently becomes the basis of civilization: Without maintaining the
murderous collective into perpetuity, the culprits of which it consists
cannot protect themselves against a reenactment of their brethrens’ al-
ready demonstrated capacity for boundless transgression.
Working within a tradition completely different from psychoanalysis,
Max Weber came to identify the legitimacy of the state itself not only
with the capacity for a higher degree of violence but also with a monopo-
ly over its exercise toward or on behalf of its constituency. The state, ac-
cording to this view, exercises violence not for its own sake as an element
extraneous to society but on the behalf of and for the benefit of its mem-
bers. For Weber the legitimacy of the state is premised on the acceptance
of this principle by constituents. Maneuvering between those two po-
sitions, Jürgen Habermas argues in an early work that when “private
people” consent to public violence exercised on their behalf, they regard
themselves as “owners” (Eigentümer) of that violence, even though they
do not exercise it themselves.93 Legitimation, in this sense, is evidenced in
the willingness to give over to a trustee of a collective what must other-
wise be regarded as one’s property. Such a voluntary transfer is an articu-
lation of Hegel’s concept of “trust,” whereby the state is understood as an
embodiment and container of one’s interests, indeed, as a teleological
culmination of a historic effort to embody the spirit of a collective in a
singular instance.
In a grand synthesis of the views on civilization of Hegel, Weber, and
Freud, Norbert Elias argues that with the coming into being of a more or
less stable monopoly over the right to exercise physical violence, other
sociocultural dynamics begin to cultivate a sense of civil order in collec-
tive life. Such dynamics result from and accentuate individuals’ inter-
dependencies, which manifest themselves in a more elaborate division of
labor, more intermediary chains of interaction, and greater functional
reciprocity across society. The sum total of such realities, together with
the entrustment to the state of a monopoly over violence, protects one
from sudden accidents and outbreaks of lawlessness and forces one to
hold spontaneity in check, to impose self-controls, and to live not for the
day but with an eye to the future and to the consequences of one’s ac-
tions. Conscience, reason, and superego are for Elias various names for
this growing proclivity toward self-control. In spite of the normative
undertones of Elias’s outline, what is most interesting in it is this unifica-
tion (attempted around the same time by the sociologist Talcott Parsons
at a very abstract and even more normative level) of cultural and institu-
tional spheres under the assumption that both belong to the same story
of civilizational evolution.
Parallel to that tradition of thought, which described an evolutionary
civilizational trajectory, we can detect a different tradition of structural
theories that described state behavior at any epoch in terms of an eternal
repetition of a very old story. In this tradition the rise and fall of states is
usually described in terms of recurrent transhistorical dynamics rather
than in terms of a perpetual evolution through which civilizational ideas
unfold as history turns its pages. S. N. Eisenstadt argues that a state’s
collapse does not indicate social (or for that matter civilizational) disin-
tegration as much as a continual redrawing of the boundaries of social
organization.94 George Cowgill extends the argument more concretely
by delineating two main troubles that states confront (and which one can
argue tend to recur with every growth of “civilization” as described
above): (1) The first trouble facing the state is acquiring income, espe-
cially for its maintenance and expansion. This acquisition is hampered by
the recurrent resistance and avoidance of powerful forces or elites, the
relative enrichment of peripheral or intermediate centers within the
state’s domain at the expense of the overall center, and the declining pro-
ductivity over time of activities that generate taxed incomes. (2) The sec-
ond trouble consists of the increasing costs of doing what is expected of
the state. This is often the case when the state is challenged by powerful
outsiders, when it is called upon to do more to offset social and environ-
mental problems, or when it suffers from destabilizing increases in popu-

lation, increased expectations in general, and associated increases in the
cost of bureaucracy and governability.95 Such perennial troubles are
largely internal, but in some way they are implicated in externally im-
posed conditions, since these too influence what the state can afford to
do within its claimed domain of sovereignty. Indeed, one can argue that
one of the most pronounced effects of globalization today is the enhance-
ment of the organic link between internal and external causes of state de-
composition, to such an extent that the two can hardly be discussed
apart—as is still customary in some circles in international relations.
The causes of state decline just summarized have only been aggravated
by processes of contemporary globalization, as was discussed earlier and
as will be further elaborated in the next chapter. In the case of many
postcolonial polities, one must add to those causes a severe crisis of legiti-
macy, engendered by the loss of even the facade of self-reliance. Created
largely through arbitrary colonial borders and denied the capacity to un-
leash the equivalent of the historical transformations that have otherwise
given their mentors their independent stature in the world, such polities
remained structurally incapable of finding credible discourses expressing
their embodiment of their constituents’ interests. The many military
takeovers are symptoms of this crisis. Their frequency and tenacity must
be regarded as signs of the lack of an entrenched or recognized culture of
governance within the affected polity or, alternatively, as signs of the
polity’s saturation with an unintegrated polyphony of identities, each
having underwritten something akin to the old realm’s idea of small-
scale but essential distinction. Of course, military takeovers are necessary
consequences of such a state of affairs only to the extent that the state is
expected to rule actively in the realm of everyday life, to transform society,
and to extend meaningful authority beyond the capital city. Thus, ironi-
cally, the current and still uncertain “wave” of democratization in states
formerly ruled by military oligarchies, notably in Africa and Latin
America, may be related to the decline in the meaning and acknowledged
capacity of the state.
The world system may have required strong states (imperialist at the
core of the system and coercive at its periphery) at some point, but the
same system today seems to require weaker ones. Janet Abu-Lughod ob-
serves that the world system does not rise and fall in the same way as
states or civilizations do, since it rises with increasing global connections
and declines with the decline of such connections.96 It must be kept in
mind that expansive empires were usually “strong” along the main trade
routes, but they were much less visible or consequential at the local level.
In India a succession of powerful empires could not alter the ancient vil-
lage rule system (panchayat), which survived the stormy fates of mightier
and more cosmopolitan rulers, some of whom (for example, the British)
were apparently unaware of its continued existence.97 The same can
essentially be said of the old informal governance system in Albanian vil-
lages, which moved underground after its prohibition only to resurface
recently. Even in its clandestine form the Albanian system continued to
regulate everyday common concerns, ranging from the use of telephones
in the village to harvest rules, and it included non-state-oriented regula-
tions of mutual aid, of which the central government of Enver Hoxha
was naturally wary.
Transforming the inside of the national household can thus be con-
sidered a “success” to the extent that governance succeeds in penetrating
society, so that the legitimacy hitherto conferred upon other forms of
association is transferred to it. However, the cases just outlined suggest
that in many quarters of this world, the tremendous effort to transform
the nature and scope of sovereignty in order for governance to fit a glob-
al model of legitimacy has succeeded only in transforming the facade of
the sovereignty. While some parochial or substate systems, such as those
of the Indian or Albanian village, may be long enduring, they do not nec-
essarily constitute an unalterable norm. There is no reason for them not
to persist as long as grander political systems fall short of replacing the
range of lifespan and everyday concerns covered by their practical, tradi-
tional, yet pastoral wisdom. Modernity and developmentalist logic, how-
ever, have posed a fundamental challenge to systems so resonant of the
old, self-enclosed realm. They must either surrender to the modernist
model outright or else live for a little longer under siege by an encroach-
ing world, which will in due time become the center of gravity of all lo-
calisms.98 Where local self-reference is lost, its memory may yet survive
through a variety of narratives. Some of those narratives simply nourish
the tragic part of the soul, recording that once upon a time someone per-
sisted but was eventually claimed by large systems. Others offer the
imagination new ways to humanize existence in a large world. Neither of
these stories is over.
Chapter 2
The New Imperialism:

Six Theses
ince the inception of modernity the phenomena of global power col-

S lectively known as “imperialism” have been seen largely as outcomes of
grand economic logics and interests. As such, imperialism signified the
extension into the realm of global politics of what had gradually become
a defining feature of modern governance: that is, governance as custody
over a new sense of national communion, formed by the integration of
economic questions into the heart of politics and culture. Modern states,
including those with little capacity for imperial extension, had until this
moment derived both legitimacy and purpose from furthering large eco-
nomic interests overseas, and from successfully harmonizing the relation
of such large interests with smaller economic interests domestically.
Some commentators, like Foucault, argue that the process of absorb-
ing the economic into the political began in the sixteenth century, a peri-
od in which “the essential issue in the establishment of the art of govern-
ment [was the] introduction of economy into political practice.”1 From
the time of Xenophon until that point, the term “economy” itself had
connoted little more than practical extrapolations from household rela-
tions, and as such it had scarcely any political implications. The rise of the
economic as the pillar of the political can be seen to be connected to the
rise of a new philosophical paradigm that occasioned the genesis of mod-
ern capitalism. Albert Hirschman identified it in the move from the para-
digm of “passions” to that of “interests.” While Adam Smith is generally
credited with elucidating the connection between pursuit of interests and
general happiness, earlier commentators, such as Montesquieu and James
Steuart, went as far as asserting that only the pursuit of interests could
impose checks on despotism.2 That shift from heroic pursuits to a pursuit
of interests did not simply occasion the rise of the bourgeoisie and the de-
cline of aristocracy. More pertinently, it foreshadowed the incorporation
59
60 The New Imperialism
of economy as a regular, negotiable part of the science of governability

and, further, the consignment to economy itself of the task of making
governmentality follow regular and predictable paths of action.3 From
that point on, answerable to a demand from here and a demand from
there, the refashioned corpus mysticum assumed one clear purpose, formed
by an avowed primary concern with the question of earthly, material in-
terests. If it failed, it could be forgiven if it promised to continue trying;
functionaries may be replaced, but the pursuit of economic interests,
which largely defined the expressed parameters of social action and mobi-
lization, could not be displaced from the heart of politics—until today.
The saturation of the modern state with the question of economy was
originally shaped by the capitalist ethos as the notion of “interests” re-
quired more systematic elaboration.4 This infusion with the capitalist
ethos provided an especially potent combination with politics during
times of colonial empire building. The incorporation of capitalism into
political programs on first a national and then a world scale, it must be
kept in mind, was not a product of a straightforward unfolding of histori-
cal inevitability. The role of the state varied from one situation to another.
In U.S. history, for example, the Civil War is frequently credited with
providing the building blocks of modern, expansive capitalism, namely,
by protecting the interests of the industrial North, by making available to
capitalist enterprises all the hitherto inaccessible reservoirs of wage labor,
by justifying a subsequent role for a strengthened federal government in
building the infrastructure of capitalism, and by allowing further capital-
ist territorial expansion into the West.5
In all cases, it seems that the territorial expansion of governmentality
laid down foundations for the consolidation and further expansion of
capitalism (for example, the earlier consolidation of England itself as a
“national market”). Yet more careful attention would reveal that the
emergence of this communion was an outcome of experimental processes
in which originally different models presented themselves. To illustrate
the point, we may contrast two basic models of colonial expansion:
British and Dutch on the one hand, and Spanish and Portuguese on the
other. In the first model, the company went first and the state followed;
in the second model, the trajectory proceeded in the opposite direction.
In the first model, a union of interests was forged or conceived between
a political order at home and capitalist adventurers in the wider world
(a process also evident in the expansion to the U.S. West). In the second
model, governance itself claimed a monopoly over extraction, so that the
The New Imperialism 61
representation of capitalist interests through it, though at times substan-

tial, could only appear as an accidental or secondary appendage to the
power of the state rather than as its indelible defining feature. In political
theory, the genesis of this split trajectory is already evident in the works
of Machiavelli, who may be seen to have articulated a uniquely middle
perspective between them. The interests of the prince, around which the
science of governmentality is constructed, require a delicate balance
between building resources of empowerment that remain sufficiently
unique to the prince, and, in measured doses, satisfying the interests of
those new forces among elites and “the people” whom he must appease.
It is perhaps no accident that Iberian imperialism, characterized as it
was by the centrality of politically controlled extraction, eventually gave
way to Western European imperialism, in which the political acted on
behalf of capitalism rather than being itself the locus of capital accumu-
lation. The Iberian model displayed the dynamic propensity of all kinds
of imperialism for overextension, a propensity that ultimately under-
mined Western European imperialism itself when the latter began to
copy elements of the old Iberian model with unreflective vigor after
1884. In the Iberian case, the state’s centrality to extraction required an
expensive extension of direct control over large continental tracts distant
from the imperial center. By contrast, early Western European imperial-
ism garnered great profit by confining itself to small, easily controllable,
and strategically situated enclaves.6 It is a testimony to the exceptional
productivity of such enclaves that they were the last imperial possessions
to be surrendered; many have been in imperial possession until very re-
cently. If we look at the Americas—where the story began—to compare
the early fate of those two types of imperialism, we readily discern the
pattern: Large and well-populated colonies were the first to be lost, both
by the Iberian powers in the south and the British empire in the north.7
Ultimately, until recently the first model provided the prototype of
the political as a form of tutelage, domestically and internationally, over a
broad range of economic interests. The nature of that union was abun-
dantly clear by Marx’s time, when it seemed apparent that the entire
logic of history was anchored upon the harmonious synchronization of
the wheels of economy and politics and that the ideas of the ruling classes
were the ruling ideas, in the same way that their interests were the ruling
interests. That thesis presumed that throughout history (and not just in
modernity) the connection between governance and the welfare of spe-
cific groups or classes defined the essence of governance. However, it can
be countered that this symbiosis between governance and specific eco-

nomic interests is contingent and that that contingency reveals itself the
more the system experiences the onset of any of the following three con-
ditions: (1) fiscal bankruptcy of the state, making the state less and less able
to afford expensive tasks; this is especially the case when the demands
upon the state expose it to an increasing spiral of financial obligations;8
(2) consolidation of the power and legitimacy of the purely political in the
system, so that the political, rather than deriving legitimacy by acting on
behalf of specific interests, becomes more confident of its continued exis-
tence regardless of its abrogation of obligations that only yesterday had
seemed fundamental; and (3) the collapse of any ideological alternatives
to the system, a phenomenon that no one alive today can fail to discern
as a prevalent attitude (which is different from saying that one must nec-
essarily accept it as unalterable fate). All three conditions have of course
been operative with various degrees of intensity for some time now. It is
not that they lead to a “weakening” of the system, which bankruptcy sug-
gests, or to a “strengthening” of it, as suggested by its increasingly self-
referential legitimacy. In terms of outcome, the convergence of the three
conditions in recent history has enhanced the autonomy of the political
from other spheres of social life—including culture and economy—as
will be explored shortly.
One of the central dilemmas of our age will continue to be precisely
the danger inherent in the autonomy of power detached from fields of
rationality exterior to it. (I am not arguing that economic logics or cul-
tural patterns necessarily provide “better” rationalities, merely that a
world typified by a disjunction among rationalities poses unexplored
problems. My focus concerns only one such problem, namely, that inher-
ent in the new dynamics of power.) With this kind of autonomy, power
can be unleashed unexpectedly and in order to attain purely symbolic
aims. When capitalism was more wedded to specific policies and govern-
mental strategies, and even in the instances where it led to imperialist
adventures, the general course of power exercise and its aim were to some
extent predictable in light of the rational cosmos advising the imperial
state. Thus there existed some rules that allowed those subject to such
power to negotiate it, and opponents were thereby provided with mecha-
nisms by which they could adjust to or even belong to the global domain
ruled and regulated by this kind of power. Under modernity, imperial
power has been a global game with bases in some economic discourse pos-
sessing universal potential.9 The final victory of capitalism everywhere
means among other things not only that the capitalist state has also lost
its mission and meaning but also that we are left with a far more threat-
ening spectacle than capitalism could ever have provided on its own as a
purely economic system. If one accepts that the state was the ammuni-
tion of some economically based ideology in a global battlefield, then it
must also be accepted that what is left, now that the battle has been
fought and is over, are empty cannon shells everywhere. The menace of
the state after the end of this war stems precisely from its unpredict-
ability, now that it is devoid of all ideological grounding. Its raisons d’état
are once more its raison d’être. This time around, however, history is re-
peating itself with all the trappings of tragedy: In its long journey back to
where it came from, the state has also managed to accumulate much
more instrumental power over society.
Furthermore, one can detect three emergent sociocultural and eco-
nomic megatrends, in which this development is implicated: (1) There
has been a decline in the meaningfulness of what can be called “measure-
ments of social totality” (evident in, among other things, the disjunction
between GNP, or aggregate social wealth, and cross-class feelings of eco-
nomic security and well-being10 or in the displacement of unifying cul-
rural symbols by multicultural claims emphasizing essential difference).11
(2) “Intelligent” governance based on knowledge of the world in which
governance is doomed to operate has become increasingly impossible or
impracticable, especially on a global scale. (3) A triumphant, global capi-
talism has become increasingly disjoined from all systems of governance,
including those systems that had supported its globalization. It is this
last development that I would like to focus on in what follows, for it is
both fundamentally detrimental and also circumnavigable within the
scope of an essay.
How Imperialism Lives On When It Has No Purpose

One of the basic problems with much of the contemporary critique of
globalization, both from the Left and Right, is their single-minded focus
on its rapacious economic aspects. The solutions offered are thus little
more than warmed-up versions of statist regulation and concomitant
calls for strengthening the state. It is surprising how much the world can
change, while some remain faithful to their old habits. Given the threat
of a new form of purely political imperialism, globalization mandates far
more vigilance to the ideological underpinnings of global politics than
has hitherto been usual. It is not as though economic globalization offers
no new challenges or problems. But for now, it is perhaps more pressing

to contest and be attentive to new deployments of power rather than to
familiar deployments of capital. For capital, as Marx himself observed,
always seeks to burst out of its political fetters, and thus today it is doing
no more than that which is in its nature. But with respect to global
power, one can detect the emergence of a new form of imperialism, an
imperialism less attached to economic or other material interests than
the traditional theory of imperialism had supposed. As such, the new
imperialism is less predictable than the old imperialism. Power, rather
than specific material interests of social groups or classes, justifies sui
generis the institution wielding it, thereby marking the face of the world
with a new form of unanchored totalitarianism.
Of course, imperialism can be approached as one of the manifesta-
tions of globalization. Imperialism has always been defined with respect
to differential power relations among systems of governance and in
terms of a more covert mode of economic and political domination. In
addition, it has also been defined as organized cultural hegemony. Glob-
alization, on the other hand, is a broader concept. Elements of power,
hegemony, and domination are indeed part of its story, but so are volun-
taristic associations, codependencies, religious and other cultural affilia-
tions, and trade and other economic venues. Unlike globalization, im-
perialism is exclusively definable by the primary attentiveness to and
regularized exploitation of the power differentials that could exist in any
of these venues.
Whereas the traditional theory of imperialism presumed a continuity
of interests between political and economic centers of power, the logic of
globalization today is introducing a fundamental divorce between the
logics of global politics and those of global economy. The fact that global
economy and transnational corporations of all kind transcend the paro-
chial limits of the modern state does not necessarily mean that the state
will wither away for lack of purpose. Rather, the state—especially a state
with a “glorious” modern history—reinvents its purpose, but in an erratic
fashion and without recourse to systemic worldviews.
This disjunction results precisely from the triumph of capitalism, a
triumph that means in the first place that because it is a global norm for
which there are no credible alternatives on the same scale, capitalism no
longer needs the support and tutelage of an imperialist state. Of course,
we have to distinguish among various states depending on the variable
capacity for imperial extension. Those with global imperial capacity,
most notably, the United States, tend to exhibit most closely the struc-
tures of action described below. Elsewhere, where governments have
generally reduced the scale of their socioeconomic responsibilities and
their claims for loyalty, one sees the disjunction of politics from all other
spheres of life expressing itself in the increasingly symbolic nature of poli-
tics, as will be discussed at a later point. Where governing orders have
appealed to xenophobic nationalism, as in the Balkans, the dearth of re-
sources available has compelled local imperialism to restrict its target
to specifiable communities. By contrast, the peculiar nature of the U.S.
polity in the modern world is tied most clearly to the diffuse globality of
its reach, claim, and power. This globality, in turn, renders it impossible
for it to specify a set of adversaries in a way that an ancillary rational
cosmos—for example, capitalism—would have been able to identify
with any strategic or ideological clarity in times like those just past. In
what follows, I will outline six basic and fundamental areas of disjunction
between traditional and passing imperialist systems—as outlined in the
traditional theory of imperialism—and the emerging logics of power de-
ployment today.
I. Coercion and Voluntarism

The early takeover of coercive responsibilities from chartered companies
(in India, Southeast Asia, Congo, and elsewhere) by the imperial systems
of their mother countries signified among other things the degree to
which modern capitalism required a historically uncharacteristic input of
coercion for its global propagation. This can be compared to medieval
world systems, which, though of vast geographic and demographic
spread, were characterized by their participants’ lack of need or capacity
to control each other.12 The historical minimalism of coercive structure
imposed upon global economies is also evident in ancient global routes,
such as the trans-Saharan or the Asian routes that linked various regions
and societies. These routes were not products of imperialism—even
though merchants usually benefited whenever centralized political con-
trol was placed upon them, such as under the Mongols or, earlier, the
Romans. Those same merchants, however, had reason to fear too much
political control. In the late 1500s, for example, wealthy Moroccan mer-
chants who participated in the gold-salt trade of the Sahara to their
south refused to finance the military campaign to their trade regions by
their dynast precisely because they feared that his success would result in
more of the trade income being transferred away from them and directly
into the pocket of the political center.13 Indeed, unlike in the modern
era, imperial control over trade routes was not a sole or even necessary
prerequisite for founding such routes. Rather, imperial control usually
followed the establishment of such routes through various prosaic and
voluntary schemes.14 In general, participants in historical world systems
remained politically independent of each other, until the encroachment
of the imperialism of the modern period. That imperialism essentially
entailed forcible conquest, whereby world regions would be captured di-
rectly and incorporated into the world system on the conqueror’s terms.
Those captured were not necessarily regions that would have invariably
failed to join the system. Rather, conquest foreclosed their option to ne-
gotiate their own terms of relation to the world system.
Thus under traditional imperialism, as we have known it from the
colonial period until the 1980s, political domination was one of the im-
portant and conscious means of economically incorporating tributary
regions into world systems. Under contemporary transnationalism, how-
ever, coercive force is scarcely needed for the incorporation of regions
into world systems; the whole world is already incorporated into an in-
teractive economic grid, since embeddedness in a global economic order
is sought voluntarily. Even amid the recent outbreak of turmoil in global
financial markets, only one country (Malaysia) has opted to isolate itself
(temporarily) from the global market. In earlier times half of the world
would have done so, as during the Great Depression. The common re-
sponse now to global financial uncertainty is for countries to delve deeper
into the global economy, to accept currency devaluation, or to link one’s
currency to more stable ones elsewhere. Under such conditions, political
control is needed only for bare-bones system maintenance, since it is ex-
pected that a global economic system is (1) either capable of functioning
on its own with minimal political support, (2) requires a diminished state
role in order to operate properly, or (3) is just too complex for any global-
level political adoption of it to be effective. In sum, whereas the old im-
perialism invoked the necessity of political domination for the expansion
and maintenance of an economic system, globalization today structures
the economic system so that it functions via its own internal capacity,
without the necessity of political support. Transnationalism, in other
words, describes a form of capitalism that has outgrown imperialism.
Some commentators argue that global capital continues to need cer-
tain governmental protections, especially for guaranteeing financial as-
sets, property rights, and contracts.15 But this role, it must be kept in
mind, no longer mandates planning for the eventuality of imperial ad-

ventures. In other words, while capital may still need the coercive muscle
of the state for the minimal task of safeguarding property and financial
assets, it no longer needs imperial conquests. The increasing distance be-
tween capital and the state thus results from the fewer coercive needs of
the mercurial financial capital, the preeminent form of global capital
today,16 especially in comparison to the old needs of production capital.17
Compared to the old production capital, financial capital today is far less
wedded to location. But even for production capital, location has become
less significant: It has learned to parcel up the production process across
various global sites and has thus acquired not only flexibility in the face of
potential turmoil or opposition in one location but general flexibility—
of which, it seems, one can never have too much.
II. Hierarchy and Lateralism

Old imperialism invariably involved a hierarchical arrangement of the
world system in terms of core and periphery. This hierarchy has tradi-
tionally invited or was accompanied and legitimated by a variety of cul-
turalist discourses of diversity and superiority, as well as by developmen-
tal and evolutionary sociopolitical logics, which were also implicated in
the differential capacities for conquest.
From the point of view of transnational capital today, however, con-
cepts of core and periphery mean little. Like the old Verlger who had
“one foot in the country and another in the towns,”18 transnational capi-
tal approaches the whole world in terms of comparative opportunities.
Indeed, some of the more notorious theories of economic globalization,
such as those based on David Ricardo’s notion of “comparative advan-
tage,” seem to suggest that at least economically the hierarchy of core
and periphery can be naturally balanced out or even reversed in the due
course of time. The merit of that or similar theories is not the point here.
The point is, rather, that from the point of view of capital accumulation,
investment, extraction, and profit making, a hierarchical organization of
regions and countries no longer serves a clear strategic purpose. While
there are clearly both wandering hunters and unassuming game on the
global economic scene, as a process globalization consists of approaching
different regions in a lateral rather than a hierarchical manner. Imperial-
ism, by contrast, has traditionally wedded systemic economic expansion
to the imperative of global political hierarchies.
The lateral organization of capital was first suggested in the seminal
work of Scott Lash and John Urry, though they seem to have drawn the
wrong conclusion from it. Far from signifying “disorganization,” the pre-
ponderance of lateral subsidiaries and sites signifies that contemporary
global capital has a much higher level of rational organization than had
been previously available to it. Indeed, the lateral view of the world
marks the emergence of the global company as a more meaningful signi-
fier of totality than the customary and increasingly polyphonic and irre-
sponsible national polities. Thus, from the point of view of the company,
one of the remaining functions of the custodians of political systems is to
acknowledge the expansive nature of the company and thus to act in such
a way as to make it possible for the company to assume a transnational
and transpolitical character. To the extent that they can be of any further
use from the point of view of the company, political custodians should
thus invest their energy in fighting for and enshrining global trade agree-
ments against all opposition. When the world is finally its stage, the
company operates and builds alliances according to a more coherent and
limited set of principles than those confronting the nation-state. The lat-
ter, which no longer knows what to do with itself, does not confront
meaningful and easily summarizable totalities like those confronting the
global company. Rather, it confronts a myriad of ideational leftovers
from a bygone era—contested cultural meanings, imagined historical
mythologies, the clutter and noise of “obligations”—to which it finds it-
self responding in an increasingly ad hoc and unrehearsed fashion.
Furthermore, the strategic coherence of capital confronts the logical
fragmentations of the political in the latter’s own playground. Cities and
regions within “nations,” abandoned or called upon to fend for them-
selves by the federal center, are forced into playing their own separate
games with capital. One of the ironies of the enhancement of federal
control, power, and public responsibilities, which had been essential
since the nineteenth century for the construction of the infrastructure of
a capital-oriented society (building transportation networks, providing
metropolitan services, ensuring stable currency, enforcing foreign loan
repayments, extending protectionism to nascent industries), is that it ac-
tually shielded regions from the specter of financial insolvency while pe-
riodically exposing the center to large deficits. In recent times the rheto-
ric of the devolution of “power” from the federal government to states in
the United States follows on the heels of this story, as states generally
continued to enjoy budget surpluses at the same time that the federal
center became swamped with debt.19
Such devolutions only enhance capital’s capacity to negotiate various

terms with competing regions. It is a world that fits the logic of capital’s
increasingly lateral approach to the world. Within highly advanced
countries, the regions, provinces, states, and cities now actively compete
with each other to lure various international enterprises, which therefore
enjoy an enormous advantage in negotiating good terms. In this new
grid, “global cities” are increasingly more connected to each other than to
their hinterlands as they become the favored sites of highly competitive
enterprises. Among commentators on globalization, references to new,
deterritorialized “geographies of power” have become common currency.
They are generally implicated in capital’s ability to provide for itself
through increasingly complicated schemes that transcend territorial
boundaries of parochial sovereignties. For the company, the new geogra-
phy is not the old political map of the world but an array of such trans-
border associations and techniques as offshoring, electronic-space trans-
actions, international arbitration centers, and international bond-rating
agencies.20
The fact that the transnational corporation—unlike political orders—
has little use for the hierarchical segmentations of the world system, is
evident in the configuration of the transnational corporations, whose
“index of transnationality” has been rising continuously in modern
times.21 Financial capital in particular, because of its fast-paced nature
greatly enhanced by new communication technologies, shows that it
is more attentive to the healthy functioning of the network of its own
globally connected communities22 than to any vision of global hierarchy
premised in parochial political power. The latter remains the domain of
the state, which has little connection to or incentive to learn from the
logic of financial capital as it operates today. Of course, it may be argued
that hegemonic advantage accrues to corporations that benefit from a
home country’s ability to globalize its business law, manufacturing stan-
dards, or accounting norms (consider, for example, the globalization of
U.S. standards in these areas). Yet even this last service to the corpora-
tion by the national center may not be all that crucial for its prospects,
since corporations, and especially those that are truly transnational, have
by definition learned to adjust and do business with remarkable flexibility
in a variety of world contexts, and even to benefit whenever possible from
the diversity of standards and practices in the world—a diversity that
smaller competitors may not be as capable of adjusting to as resourceful,
large predators.
III. General and Special Interests

The traditional theory of imperialism was in many ways persuasive be-
cause it made imperialist behavior predictable. The old-fashioned pre-
dictability of imperialism stemmed from a clear strategic vision fed by a
totalistic conceptual outlook. Under old imperialism, an expansive eco-
nomic ideology blended harmoniously with and informed grand political
behavior in the larger world. Thus a General Motors executive, who in
the early 1950s also occupied a U.S. cabinet position, could at a very fa-
mous moment state that what was good for General Motors was good
for the United States. His statement was so memorable precisely because
it forthrightly articulated the strategic, total, and consistent vision of
traditional imperialist ideology at its height.
The assertion that what was good for the company was “self-evidently”
good for the country cannot be understood in terms of simple rhetoric,
nor can it be seen as an expression of unthinking malice. It is part and
parcel of the logic of recurrent times, when custodians of political systems
seek to perpetuate feelings of common national purpose, feelings that
would have been inculcated in some euphoric experience (such as a “great
moral war”). In such a context, the company was by no means the only
source volunteering a formula of general purpose, clustering around its
own interests. Parallel to that statement, we also see extra-economic ef-
forts to ensure continued unity of purpose, most evident in the same era
in the United States by the McCarthyist witch-hunt. For McCarthy, the
enemies of the system were pariahs to both the system’s economic logic
and its principle of citizenship (that is, Communist and un-American).
While not exactly similar, the invocations of commonality of interest
in both cases to which I just alluded pertain to specific eras when an im-
perial system sought to entrench its foundations. Once it has succeeded
it no longer needs such ideological supports and can indeed show signs
of liberalism and tolerance, that is, precisely when such gestures of open-
ness have no obvious consequences detrimental to the survival of the sys-
tem. Of course, this search for a clear definition of general interest is part
of the logic of modern governability, not necessarily just of imperialism.
Hegel had already noted that it is indeed part of the dialectics of institu-
tional life to ensure into perpetuity the accidental convergence of inter-
ests that would otherwise diffuse back into their own particularity.23 He
did not note, however, that after its introduction, “common purpose” can
only devolve into a myth that, no matter how beautiful, will eventually
wither away as particular interests resume their own separate journeys

into the larger world, a world beyond the grasp or comprehension of the
institution into which they are supposedly organically fused.
Beginning with Bismarck in Germany and culminating in the New
Deal in the United States, that obvious truth was vigorously contested by
states eager to show that they could indeed act in the interests of down-
trodden classes at the same time that they could make the world safe for
the trials and tribulations of capital. Amid the romantic serenity of the
rebuilt world of the 1950s, T. H. Marshall attained immense acclaim
when he argued that the idea of citizenship involved social and not sim-
ply civil and political components. Here, the modern citizen could expect
material rewards bestowed by authority, and such rewards were incum-
bent upon the very definition of the individual as citizen.
Ideas such as these usually represent the horizons of their times.
Marshall’s idea was as much hailed in his time as it is derided today.
While the structural adjustment plans of the International Monetary
Fund (IMF) have effectively prevented many Third World governments
from placing such a model of citizenship into practice, First World gov-
ernments could adduce no equivalent stewardship restrictions as they
looked for ways and justifications to dispense with the weight of having
to cater to more social interests than they could bear. It is no accident
that in the United States, where the idea of social citizenship has histori-
cally had the lowest regard in the Western world, the “citizen” is being
promoted as a perennially self-reliant, hard-working, low-cost patriot.
Such a citizen does indeed have “rights,” but they are carefully distin-
guished from “entitlements,” since “rights” are more likely to cease their
solemn advance when they reach the government’s purse. The retrench-
ment of the range of economic interests serviced by the state has taken
place in the context of streamlining governmental budgets so that they
could be brought into line for the purpose of promoting “competitive-
ness” or politico-economic integration. Kennedy’s “Ask not what your
country can do for you . . .” finally rules unabashedly. Ask not what your
country can do for you, not just because it is unbecoming of the defini-
tion of citizenship to do so. In an age doubly haunted by globalization
and budget deficits,24 with each of the two monsters demanding the sac-
rifice of the other, your country has made its choice: It has decided it can
do nothing for you.
The ideological ramifications of this move thus consist of once again
decoupling the political and the economic. Political authorities may still
act on behalf of specific interests—and today those tend to be the inter-

ests oriented toward open markets everywhere. Domestic politics there-
fore no longer designates an isolated field of sovereignty that can reliably
shield the citizen from the impact of inexorable global forces. Devoid
from instrumental connection to action, politics today becomes more
than ever an obscene game of vanity. Those who win offices frequently
advance slogans without having any practical resources to implement
them, and are replaced only when the tired electorate savors the faint
smell of difference; Gerhard Schröder, Tony Blair, or Fernando H.
Cardoso can do no more than improve on their predecessors’ adherence
to neoliberal orthodoxy. This point is still vigorously contested by some
liberal and left Keynesians, who nonetheless can offer no more than
hopelessly outmoded, largely exhortative recipes. They ignore the fact
that the logic of globalization has made politics into a self-enclosed uni-
verse, from which the economy is largely autonomous. The field of poli-
tics continues to harbor some capacity to act on behalf of certain major
interest groups. But as a whole, it is much less able to credibly display the
model of the “covenant”—a slogan raised for its charm and then dropped
unceremoniously after the recent successful presidential campaign of a
well-known chameleon. Politics today cannot symbolize the mystical
harmony of social interests, since global capitalism offers such interests
no way to approach it with a unified perspective.
The point is that large, complex societies consist not so much of “people”
as of special interests. The dialectics of an open world are likely to correct
any miscomprehension of this principle in due time. Today, no General
Motors official could conceivably state again, with any sense of confi-
dence, what the company may have actually believed in the 1950s. And
therefore the problem of rational guidance: Save for their heavy involve-
ment in the political aspects of trade, major global companies have less of
an incentive than they had during the Cold War to invest energy in sys-
tematically guiding the international behavior of government. What is
good for the company now is far more likely to be good for all of its
transnational subsidiaries and branches than for a polyphonous and frag-
mented national entity. The removal of the economic clothes leaves us
nothing but the naked body of politics.
Seen from a different angle, such a state of malaise has been alluded
to under a variety of resonant rubrics, such as “the end of politics,” “the
end of ideology,” or even “the end of the state.” All of these have been in
circulation for some time now. The basic contours of the argument re-
garding “the end of politics” are well known and can be readily summa-
rized. First, in an age of complex global networks through which “inter-
ests” of all kinds are exchanged, the idea of solidarity has no natural ref-
erence point in territoriality.25 And it is fundamentally territoriality that
has provided the existential basis for the modern expression of nationality
and, subsequently, for its embodiment in statehood. More important,
however, the internal decline of the state’s ability to shield all of its con-
stituents from the impact of global forces becomes the ground for the
rediscovery that in any complex society, the state can only be either a
battleground of various special interests, if it is to be truly pluralist, or
little more than a representative of one of those interests against the
others, if not.26 As such, “the end of politics” is certainly not a new thesis.
The transnational challenge, however, provides a new meaning for this
recently recurring observation. Under conditions in which recognized
political entities in the world are increasingly incapable of alleviating do-
mestic anxieties and when nothing they can or are willing to do could
found a higher institutional instance to control global capitalism, the
only thing left is naked politics, politics for its own sake, as a pure game
of power, where power can exist only for itself rather than as a venue for
material interests.
While such theories may be overreaching in different directions, in
various forms they are symptomatic of the growing attention to the or-
phan status of politics after capital abandoned its guiding role. In its
place, one sees the rise of disparate initiatives as sources of advice to and
bases of governmental thinking. These are represented in the ceaseless
activity of a mushrooming community of tens of thousands of lobbyists
in Washington, the increasing role and indispensability of campaign
contributions from all kinds of single-issue political action committees,
and the rise of erratic initiatives as the dominant style of political life, all
at the expense of bodies representing strategic and integrated styles of
thought and outlook.
IV. Hegemony without Logic

The decline of totalistic strategic vision leaves a political scene typified by
directionlessness and by illogical and nonsystematic invasions and wars,
where it is difficult to discover a common trend or thread other than
sheer and unanchored political opportunism. Instead of exercising hege-
mony for the purpose of influencing specific directions, the imperialism
of today has only an irrational attachment to the principle of hegemony.
The irrationality of contemporary hegemony is evident in the lack of any

strategic unity in its manifestations, and even more so in the absence of
any clear ideological logic for its exercise. Indeed, many policy thinkers
have come to openly decry general strategic directionlessness. Some even
compared this state of affairs to the logic of contemporary courtship,
based as it is on instant gratification with no commitment.27
However, though a term like “hollow hegemony,” employed by the
system apologist Fareed Zakaria, may describe perfectly the kind of
power amassed and exercised without clear, long-term strategy, it does
not describe how the objects of such hegemony are chosen. The fact that
the collapse of the earlier, total ideological vision renders the world con-
ceptually inaccessible means that only what is known about the self can
serve as a guide for ascertaining the intentions and character of others.
Thus, in a classic case of Freudian projection, the very irrationality of
this nascent imperialism evidences itself in the innate and irreducible
irrationality it ascribes to its imagined, mysterious, and globally ubiqui-
tous adversaries (“rogue nations,” mad “terrorists,” faceless “fanatics”).28
Compare this messy, unfocused paranoia to the more orderly designa-
tions of the Cold War, where paranoia could at least be tamed by the sys-
tem’s rational capacity to assume a rational cosmos governed the behav-
ior of the adversary, and thus that the adversary’s behavior could be
modeled, albeit with mixed results. The new adversaries, by contrast, are
typified by total unpredictability and possess a mysterious capacity or de-
sire to strike at random, anywhere.
When did this descent to illogic begin? If a date and place is to be as-
signed for the last clear exercise of the logic of old imperialism, it is pos-
sible to locate it around the overthrow of Salvador Allende in Chile in
1973, when Kissinger acknowledged that capitalist interests were the
prime reason the CIA supported the military in their takeover. That
event can perhaps be regarded as one of the last manifestations of a close
coordination between political and economic logics.29 More recent im-
perial ventures, notably the second Gulf War, in 1991, or the Kosovo
war, seem to flow from the logic of the new imperialism. In the former
case in particular, the protagonist was not especially opposed to capital-
ism as a system or even as a set of concrete interests, which were always
negotiable without a war. Furthermore, the defeat of Iraq was not fol-
lowed by the customary capitalist rapprochement (as had happened, for
example, in Europe and Japan after World War II), whereby the devas-
tated country would be either opened up to be rebuilt at great profit by
corporations based in the victorious country or allowed to develop in

such a way that it became indissolubly integrated into the global political
logic informed by global capitalism and the outlooks associated with it.
Rather, the profit-making potential was forsaken for a lengthy embargo
in which few benefits accrued to global capital interests in the West. In
this case, the more accommodationist policies of countries like France or
Russia, which are here at least less wedded to the logic of the new impe-
rialism, resonate better with the logic of global capital. But in the case of
the real power in that war, namely, the United States, which represents
the apogee of the unconscious irrationality of the new imperialism, the
response to the war itself has been characterized by nothing short of
sickening intellectual malaise. It is clear now that the war was fought
with no rational or strategic planning for its aftermath, in sharp contrast
to 1944–1945, when acute intellectual effort (however misguided) was
called upon to chart an approach for an ongoing engagement with the
enemy after the war, an engagement that enlisted both, victor and van-
quished, in the common camp of one global ideology.
In many respects the recent war in Kosovo illustrates the dynamics
and propensities of the new imperialism. At least three catastrophic mis-
calculations are readily apparent in the NATO strategy: In the first place,
the entire campaign was premised on NATO’s refusal to consider the al-
ternative strategy of in some way nurturing local resistance to Serbian
authority. Rather, its insistence on claiming for itself a monopoly over
violence can scarcely be understood apart from its primary attachment to
the principle of hegemony (rather than, say, to such moral principles as
“human rights,” “self-determination,” or the like).
In the second place, this attachment to the principle of hegemony
was coupled by a paradoxical lack of resolve, masked only by the exten-
sive deployment of warfare technology and now happily forgotten amid
the current suspension of hostilities. That is, nowhere in the modern
history of warfare do we see a similar example of one side telling the
other that it has no intention of using all of its arsenal—in this case,
NATO’s early and repeatedly expressed decision that no ground troops
would be sent in for the purpose of fighting and that the entire war
would be waged and won from a distance. The remarkable public stance
spelled out more than anything else that the objectives of the war were not
seen to be worthy of any domestic political cost for the imperial center. In
other words, the modus operandi of the new imperialism consists of ac-
quiring those technologies that make its action possible, without regard
to any principles that can be contemplated apart from its pure capacity
for action.
Under traditional norms of capitalist calculations, pursuit of objec-
tives requires a more integrated assessment of costs and benefits and, to
the extent possible, a clearheaded appraisal of the many dimensions,
risks, and opportunities attendant on one’s actions. The logic of the new
imperialism, however, does not have this calculative vantage point. Its
wars must be cost-free precisely because they are waged without an inte-
grated vision or moral conviction. Yet they are capable of producing grati-
fication, which can lead to commitment only accidentally, but not as an
outcome of integrated strategic thinking.
In the third place, we can detect in this war a classic failure on
NATO’s part to see clearly by-products of the war that should have been
obvious from the start: namely, the catastrophic human devastation, the
unexpected length of the war, the destruction of Kosovar society, and for
the time being the strengthening of the regime of Slobodan Milosevic. It
is hard to see how this failure of vision could have come about unless the
entire operation was based on NATO’s self-inflated expectation that the
enemy, faced with demands it deemed for some reason impossible, would
simply surrender without a fight. Capitalism never had such an expecta-
tion from its enemies.
As a guide for strategic action, therefore, what remains is the murky
notion of “geopolitics,” but geopolitics as a referent to pure power, that is,
power in its own service rather than as an appendage to an integrative
complex of economy, culture, and polity. What we see is the waning of
the influence on government by such strategy-minded bodies as the
Council on Foreign Relations, which had best exemplified through its
history, from World War I to the present, the happy marriage of business
and political elites.30 Whatever else it may have done, the guiding role of
capital did provide a rational cosmos for political conduct, surrounding it
with limits and purpose. The withdrawal of that rational cosmos today
leaves us a form of imperialism that can only be a self-referential system
of power.
V. Strength and Weakness of the State

Under traditional imperialism, capitalism throve because of the protec-
tive power of a strong state. Marxist and left-liberal critics have long
noted that, thanks only to governmental intervention in both economic
and social life, boom-and-bust cycles failed to bring capitalism down. A
further extension of political cover for capitalism was provided in the

Cold War, when the battle between capitalism and socialism was waged
between political-military entities whose feud was explicitly on behalf of
economic paradigms and interests. The perennial fiscal crisis of the capi-
talist state—resulting from having provided twin shields for capitalism,
one social (to protect it from its internal enemies) and another military
(to protect it from external ones)—was in many ways unavoidable. There
was no choice but to operate under the burden of such fiscal crisis, until
today.
Under globalization today, by contrast, capitalism thrives because of
the weakening sovereignty of the state. Global capitalism now requires a
less socially overbearing state, a state offering a “competitive,” deregulated
environment to lure an already secure, globally flexible capital. The state
thus opens up its domain of sovereignty through free-trade agreements,
which involve an unmistakable acceptance of reduced sovereignty—at
least the part of sovereignty that deals with economic responsibility. This
occasions and often explicitly justifies a global trend in national politics
toward removing one of the two main historical shields of capitalism,
namely, the social shield. Ostensibly, the fiscal crisis should be resolved
thereby.
What remains in place, however, is a military “shield” that like Frank-
enstein has, over the years, become gradually autonomous from its politi-
cal creator in its thinking and mode of operation. Thus it does not now
wither away from lack of purpose; once the monster is here, it can only be
redesigned with a different function in mind. Recently a budgetary pro-
posal that elicited an immediate consensus among the policy-making elite
in the United States outlined a strategic increase in military spending—
already by far the highest in the world—in spite of the lack of any clear
enemies to justify maintaining even the existing military capacity. A re-
cent military manual, furthermore, begins by noting that “specifics of US
future interests are nearly as uncertain as future threats and opportuni-
ties.” It then proceeds to develop what is therefore described as a “simpli-
fied conceptual approach” for use by strategic planners. The scheme is
conceptually simplified because “national interests” are likely to be deter-
mined on a case-by-case basis rather than according to a rational, ideo-
logically guided, long-term plan. The many recommendations, which
generally emphasize the imperative of maintaining an exceptionally
lethal military force, include expansions of objectives and definitions of
national interest to include efforts against terrorism and international
organized crime, various “operations other than war,” more-extensive

surveillance capabilities, and protection of information. Without appar-
ent irony, the manual asserts the need for such extensions of military do-
minion at the same time that it argues that the world, especially that of
the “First Tier” states, will be typified by greater cultural homogeneity,
increasing governmental attentiveness to the needs of business, and a
dilution of national interests, boundaries, and sovereignty.31
Thus the old military shield no longer protects a mercurial capitalism
that exists everywhere, a capitalism that is furthermore much less vulner-
able to ideological threats than in the past. One sees a transformation in
the vectors of strength of imperial polities. Whereas the old imperial
state was expected to found its strength on both military and economic
might and then to employ those strengths in a complementary fashion, it
is now expected to be strong militarily but uninvolved economically.
Thus one finds a political field increasingly typified by symbolic postur-
ing,32 since the state is no longer expected to actually offer its constitu-
ents any tangible benefits. Richard Armey, one of the most prominent
Republican leaders in Congress today, articulated this widely held and
influential line of thought with characteristic candor: “Social responsi-
bility is a euphemism for individual irresponsibility.” What does this
mean? Evidently that governments exists only for the sake of those re-
sponsibilities that are not social. This may be compared to Kennedy’s fa-
mous statement (“Ask not what your country can do for you . . .”), which
though certainly more memorable, entailed far fewer practical conse-
quences that Armey’s edict. The latter, more than three and a half decades
after Kennedy, condemns the “entitled” portion of citizenship in equally
unambiguous (though mercifully less patriotic) terms. In decoupling the
notion of citizenship from any sense of social entitlement, the govern-
ment does not reference the original author, whose era did not allow the
political to be as independent of the social as it can be today.
Global capital’s diminishing need for the state, and the state’s lack of
ability or desire to shield more humble constituents from the unpre-
dictable impact of what may seem to them to be erratic twists of fate
brought about by largely autonomous global forces, both leave in place
a state structure devoid of much of its grand social purpose. Today to-
talitarianism no longer consists of incorporating the individual into
the body of a grand social machine; it is, rather, exactly the opposite:
The machine has become oblivious to all individuals. It continues to
work for its own sake, as a purely habitual exercise of self-propelling do-
minion. It still has all the teeth, all the arsenal and an enormous capacity
for mass destruction, but it has no logical plan, guide, metanarrative, or
long-term vision for the logical cosmos to which it would wed such in-
herited resourcefulness.33
The weakness of the state in the economy, however, does not relieve it
from the fact that socioeconomic demands and grievances will continue
to be made. With fewer resources and less will at its disposal, it can ei-
ther appeal to the spirit of voluntarism or else respond to the trouble
symbolically. In order to direct national energies and vision away from
troubles it cannot resolve, it may invent adversity, display prowess against
others, test bombs, or appeal to national sentiments to support great and
largely symbolic causes. Thus, elsewhere in the world one increasingly
encounters impossibly parochial slogans that could never be followed to
the letter in practice because they contradict the inexorable spirit of
globalization. Hobsbawm notes, for instance, that the strong nationalist
spirits observed in some Eastern European countries, or even in regions
inside Western European polities (Scotland, Lombardy, Flanders, and so
on), are ironically coupled with the wish of such “countries” to join the
European Union as one of their first acts of freedom. They would thus im-
mediately give up any hard-won sovereignty.34 What this trend indicates
is that slogans emphasizing cultural specificity or diversity, which seem
on the surface so ubiquitous in our era and which are possible precisely
because of the weakness of the state, nonetheless hardly define any es-
sential resistance to the underlying global spirit of the times; but they do
illustrate for us how politics has become increasingly symbolic in an age
when it can do no more than that.
VI. From Economy to Culture

Under traditional imperialism, and especially from World War I until
1989, nationalist frames of identification were pitted on a global scale
against class solidarities. While in theory capitalism was sold as an inher-
ently universal system applicable everywhere, imperialism in particular
required a certain investment in nativism, ideas of cultural difference,
evolutionism, developmentalism, and a self-confident sense of national
exceptionalism within imperial nations. In contrast, Marxist and socialist
thought usually provided an antidote to the notion of essential cultural
difference by highlighting class solidarities as transnational and natural
embodiments of real material interests. Both capitalism and socialism
were thus in theory cosmopolitan ideologies. Imperialism, however,
throve on the active and systematic manipulation of nativist identities,

wherever such a practice yielded the desired results (a practice of which
“really existing socialism” was not entirely innocent either, albeit in a far
less pronounced fashion).
Today, the scene has once again changed on that score. Under the
ethos of globalized culture, the main struggle is alleged to be between
cosmopolitan and nativist forces, albeit in a new kind of way in which
neither class nor nationalism prefigure prominently. The alleged strug-
gle, at least according to Benjamin Barber’s highly popularized thesis, is
between the forces of “McWorld” and “Jihad.”35 Both are deemed to be
general attitudes vis-à-vis globalization. McWorld represents outward-
looking, global mass culture unified by consumerist optimism and com-
mon icons and facades of fashion, music, and the like. And Jihad epito-
mizes reversion to local traditions and local history and a determined
resistance to globalism on culturalist rather than economic ground.
While both are ill-chosen metaphors loaded with banal culturalist
assumptions, both “McWorld” and “Jihad” can be seen as products of
modernity. Much of the distinction between the two models is indeed
haphazard, ignoring the fact that, far from fanatically resisting global
modernity, the rhetoric of many of the movements identified with the
Jihad trajectory is in fact formed by suggestions to link up to it. Area
specialists have long noted that “nativist” revivals, including the “jihad”
variety, are peculiarly peppered with modernist slogans, emphasizing
tradition as a way to achieve modernization, progress, industrialization,
and democratic mass participation rather than tradition as a simple ven-
eration of the past. Proponents of Barber’s distinction tend to simply
ignore the fact that even the most retrograde force of tradition-bound fa-
naticism in the world, represented best in the Saudi royal family, has also
been more than hospitable not only to an impressive level of economic
modernization but also to imperialist penetration of the worst kind. That
system can scarcely be said to be “closed” to the world—it is closed only
to the extent that the imperial arrangement warrants necessary for the
survival of a regime, a regime that in fact represents a disfiguration of
rather than a continuity with a whole array of earlier, more voluntaristic
traditions of trade and governance.36
Thus one can say that the distinction between so-called nativist and
cosmopolitan outlooks is only skin-deep, as it is inconsequential insofar
as the globalization of modernity is concerned. The distinction is high-
lighted now primarily from the perspective of the new imperialism,
which is determined to crush (albeit with characteristic inconsistency)

what it has already constructed as Jihad world. This perspective is most
pronounced in the United States, where the logic of the new imperialism
exercises an unchallenged reign, although one finds it in milder forms in
Western Europe. The difference is significant, especially because the
rigidity of perspective seems inversely related to the degree to which
various societies have surrendered sovereignty for the sake of regional
integration. While the rhetoric of a fundamentally distinct Western cul-
ture also prevails in Western Europe, the difference stems from some-
thing other than a more enlightened and educated public sphere. It also
stems from the fact that in an age of regional integration, national cul-
ture, while cherished, is no longer seen to be so distinct as to foreclose
integration. While there is no society without “rules of exclusion,” as
Foucault reminds us, the very proclivity to give up old habits of solidari-
ty also incubates a view of the world as variegated, changeable, and de-
polarizable in essence.37 Furthermore, from the perspective of global
capital, the struggle between such caricatures as Jihad and McWorld
makes little sense. More than imperial state functionaries, capitalists
everywhere know that once in power, adherents of nativist ideologies
have traditionally proven themselves to be just as eager to play the global
economic game of foreign investments, joint ventures, economic liberali-
zation, and free markets. In other worlds, the cultural target of the new im-
perialism is not the nemesis of global capitalism as such. Once decoupled
from capitalism, imperialism roves the world like an undisciplined ban-
dit in search of ever new windmills to conquer.
This divergence in perspective has everything to do with the diver-
gence between the political and the economic, which is the prime fea-
ture of the nascent imperialism. When the two were coupled together,
as they were under traditional imperialism, we encountered a plethora of
modernization theories, all of which had their basis in an assumption of
an evolutionary cultural universalism. That universalism presumed that
all societies would eventually come to exhibit common economic out-
looks, along with concomitant cultural and political habits. Now, how-
ever, we are confronted from all sides with theories emphasizing the
irreducible essentiality of fragmentation. It is indeed ironic that the anti-
totalistic trends commonly known as poststructuralism, along with slo-
gans emphasizing multiculturalism and autonomies of all kinds, have
actually occasioned a world more united than ever by a single economic
logic, namely, that of capitalism. What goes unnoticed amid the jargon
of difference and the particularism of authenticity is the fact that the

global economic norm is becoming more and more entrenched as time
goes by, irrespective of all culturalist sloganeering. As institutional
guardians of this form of capitalism, the IMF and the World Bank issue
structural adjustment plans and economic blueprints that are essentially
uniform, regardless of religion, culture, ethnicity, or the like, and some-
times even regardless of the consequences of such plans for political
stability 38—the assumption, of course, being that the political, however
boisterous, will eventually follow the economic, whether peaceably or
kicking and screaming.
The most vocal articulation of this notion of essential difference,
however, has come from a source that ultimately makes the thesis ser-
viceable to the logic of the new imperialism. Samuel Huntington’s much-
debated thesis regarding a coming clash of civilizations serves as an epi-
graph of the times, in the same way that George F. Kennan’s thesis of
containment foreshadowed the coming of the Cold War.39 The basic
assumptions of Huntington’s thesis—that the world consists of largely
insulated civilizational categories, that these provide members with a rela-
tively uniform world outlook, and that civilizations are more involved in
conflict with each other than within their own domains—are remarkably
ill supported. What is interesting about Huntington’s thesis is not the
merit of its substantive claims, which have already been roundly criti-
cized,40 but its troublesome proximity to the ears of policy makers, eager
as they are to map out the unknown contours of conflicts after the unex-
pected end of a perennial Cold War left them with no strategic cause.
Here is a theory perfectly packaged for those who throughout their life-
time have known little other than a world of global conflicts. Contouring
the world in terms of conflictual civilizational spheres speaks perfectly to
well-established habits of thought. Like the packaging of the Cold War,
the clash of civilizations thesis provides the three basic elements of a
credible global narrative of conflict.
First, the clash is expressed in terms of transnational ideologies rather
than as a struggle for power among states. States are mere agents of
global ideologies. Power struggles among significant polities are clothed
in grand principles and ideas, allowing them to seek alliances on a world
scale.
Second, the language of the struggle allows clear and strategic behav-
ior, since it allows participants to focus on a limited number of central
tasks and to subordinate “smaller” struggles to a central mission. Global
struggles generally require a limited number of grand categories (e.g.,

capitalism versus communism), which act as organizing principles of al-
liances and as guides for long-term planning in the conflict. (And the
range of possible alliances in the Cold War, it must be kept in mind, was
far more flexible than the theory of the clash allows now, with its stress
on innate rather than acquired sources of action of protagonists.)
Third, global clashes have important domestic ramifications, since
they provide governmental powers with justification for putting their
house in order, for enlisting resources at their disposal, and for subsuming
civil society; they also provide them with ample ammunition to combat
domestic opponents. In other words, the global clash has at least the
promise of consolidating ranks at times when national purpose may not
be clear, as is bound to be the case in the global era. It is therefore no ac-
cident that Huntington himself ultimately attacks multicultural educa-
tion in the United States precisely on the basis of his global theory.41
This echoes similar fears in Europe—where they are apparent in the
electoral politics of more than just the far-right parties—that the influx
of non-European immigrants, especially, would dilute the Western iden-
tity of host societies. Just as the Cold War offered an opportunity to
purge (real or imagined) leftists and system critics from various positions
of influence and to marginalize them in civil society, there is now a simi-
lar campaign against those who would dilute the civilizational integrity
of the “West,” at the very time that it is supposed to be preparing for
global civilizational struggles with unified ranks.
There is hardly a need to reproduce here voluminous historical evi-
dence demonstrating what must be obvious by now: that cultures or civi-
lizations are not watertight compartments but, rather, adapt to or as-
similate each other when they come into contact; that the most frequent
and detrimental clashes are those that transpire within rather than across
cultures; that cultures are not transhistorically pristine worldviews but
can house incredible paradigmatic shifts. But the availability of informa-
tion never causes enlightenment just by itself, as must be well known to
anyone involved in teaching and also in these kinds of debates. Thus
Huntington’s book ought to be viewed as itself a symptom rather than a
diagnosis of the spirit of the times. It is obvious that theories of civiliza-
tional clash, in which the idea of “civilization” is reduced to a rudimen-
tary culturalist outline, are being widely received today. But as symp-
toms, theories of cultural clash suggest three major ideological contours
attendant to the new global era:
1. The shift in the categories used to describe global conflicts away from
economic categories such as “capitalism” and “socialism” and toward “civi-
lizations” and “cultures” suggests a paradigmatic shift from economy to cul-
ture as the ground for the organizing principles of conflict and coexistence.
2. In an important sense, the shift to the cultural may be related precisely

to the victory of capitalism (its local variations notwithstanding) as a
global economic norm for which no credible alternatives are visible on the
horizon. In other words, the removal of the need to protect capitalism (or
socialism, for that matter) from its global enemies does not just leave gov-
ernments with no global cause. As capitalism busies itself with building
similitudes everywhere, governments find themselves presiding over erod-
ing grounds of national distinction. They can either surrender to the face-
less behemoth roaming the earth or retreat to a hitherto murky and less
heavily fortified castle of culture.
3. The theory of the clash retreats from the modernist equation of people-
hood with nationhood and concomitantly adjusts to the fact that globali-
zation has weakened the nation-state. The shift to such more diffuse for-
mulations as “culture” or “civilization” signals the end of a modernist
conception of the fundamental structure of collective identity propagated
by nationalism. It also signals the end of any hope of capturing such simi-
larly structured collective identities in a standard institutional format;
while a nation can be embodied in a state, a civilization or a culture has
much grander missions and sources of fruition than can be serviced by
parochial statist systems alone.
The fact that the clash is being predicted by someone with a history
of producing ideas “useful” to sympathetic officeholders may in itself
make it a self-fulfilling prophecy. History has no shortage of tales show-
ing that the relation between prophecy and its materialization is more
dependent on the powers and associations of the prophet than on the
inert or substantive merit of the prophecy itself. If the purported clash
were indeed to materialize exactly along the predicted lines, one may
suspect that that would be due partly to the connections of those pre-
dicting and preparing for it and partly to the existence of a receptive ear.
Once the incendiary materials for the clash have been pulled out of their
deep storage and assembled around the porous castle, all that is needed is
someone to start the fire and fan its flames.
In this light, an organized clash requires institutional promoters as
well as theoreticians capable of making the problems of cultural disloca-

tion in their own society appear to be problems originating elsewhere in
the world. Machiavelli clearly thought of war against outsiders as just
another means for the prince to consolidate power over his own fractious
and potentially rebellious constituents. He approvingly cited Ferdinand’s
war against Grenada—paraded in those distant times as a yet another
clash of civilizations—not because of the publicized cause but because of
the war’s less obvious but more lasting accomplishment: The nobles who
enlisted or found themselves compelled to enlist in Ferdinand’s cause
either did not realize or could do nothing about the fact that that “clash
of civilizations” was allowing Ferdinand to gain permanent power over
them.42 The Crusades can indeed be thought of as an episode of a civi-
lizational clash. But to discuss them only as such ignores a more impor-
tant factor behind their duration, namely, the attendant remaking of po-
litical alliances within Europe. “Civilizations” themselves do not clash;
only institutionalized bodies do. Those, in turn, are not simply driven by
a civilizational mission, even when the rhetoric of civilization becomes
inevitably part of their armory. An institution willing to launch and bear
the risks of a grand clash is an institution that generally has little time for
studying civilizations—including its own.
It is in the light of such a magnificent transformation that certain old

habits and myopias must be reexamined. In particular, I am referring to
the old leftist habit of focusing on global capitalism as the worst enemy
of humanity, and in that focus ignoring the problem of the state. It is not
uncommon, for example, for left critics of globalization to call for
strengthening the state so that it can regulate global capitalism. How
this is supposed to work, no one ventures to say. Nor do any of those
commentators venture to consider the totalitarian prerequisites entailed
in such a cavalier proposal. If global capitalism has become much more
flexible, entrenched, and widespread, then a regulatory state would need
to be equally entrenched and even more far-reaching in its power than
has ever been attempted. You might fantasize that that might not be a
problem if you were the state. But “you” are not the state, nor are you
likely to know how to use such a state in the highly unlikely event that it
is handed over to you. There is no guarantee, instrumental or otherwise,
that under current or conceivable conditions the state can or would use
such enhanced power to govern on behalf of some “common interest,”
especially since there is no common interest against globalization. This lack
means precisely that the state will use any enhanced power to play the
only games available to it now, namely, that of the new imperialism in
the international arena, if it has the means, or that of symbolic power
domestically.
Indeed, if there is an adequate response to the new imperialism and
concomitant new forms of power deployment, it is to weaken the state.
When global capitalism was more closely associated with imperial poli-
tics, it succeeded to a great extent in disciplining imperialism, since con-
quests and interventions had to have a calculable benefit. Also, refraining
from conquest and decolonization were connected to the subordination of
imperial logic to economy. This subordination was usually expressed in
the political field by the rationalizing capitalist ethos that mandated
restricting expensive political adventures to those that were absolutely
necessary, especially where capitalism had become already established or
could continue to thrive just as well without conquest. That disciplinary
impulse suddenly disappears once the capitalist entrepreneur opens his
eyes with amazement at how open the world has become. He packs his
belongings and begins traversing charming and distant lands—no longer
dangerous—multiplying profits here and there. In his frenzy he unfortu-
nately forgets to tell the state that while he is away, it should continue to
abide by the same old dictum: Its exercise of power must be guided by a
coherent notion of profitability. He may not even care whether the dic-
tum is followed or not, especially if he has reason to believe that in nei-
ther case will his business be affected, or that only the world is truly his
stage, or that he may never return.
This is not to say that there is no hope for imposing any sense of order,
regulation, or control over such a vast system. My argument is simply
that existing state structures are not suitable, capable, or desirable agents
of such control. In any case, it cannot possibly be more wholesome to
substitute imperialist tyranny of a new and unpredictable sort for an
unimpeded global capitalism. As outlined earlier in this essay, the fe-
tishization of control is particularly prevalent in contemporary rather
than older accounts of the “world system.” The idea of a “system” does
not necessarily presuppose that the system is controllable from a central
instance. But it does include elements of self-regulation, to the extent
that participants want the system to sustain itself. These elements are
not necessarily all “structural”—in other words, they do not consist only
of bureaucratic or coercive institutions. They also include, as Norbert
Elias demonstrates in a different context, cultural developments in-
grained in the establishment of codependencies and methodical and

mannerist expectations.
These developments invite us to think of “order” not in terms of coer-
cive potentials but as a product of thousands of small negotiations and
organized voluntaristic interventions, themselves made possible by glob-
alization and the weakening of the state. Some of these negotiations can
be detected in the activities of the nascent “global civil society.” This ex-
presses itself in a myriad of grassroots and nongovernmental organiza-
tions; in the growth of global movements such as feminism, environ-
mentalism, and other so-called lifestyle groups; and in the growth of the
Internet and other communication technologies—all of these transcend
the ideational horizon of customary state jurisdiction. These activities
and their influence introduce different venues from which the globaliza-
tion of the world economy can be adjudicated from non–economically
determined points of view. The emergence of the global civil society can
be seen as a refreshing antidote to the virtual absorption of much of na-
tional civil society first by the modern nation-state and then by the wel-
fare state. While the nascent global civil society may indicate the com-
mencement of liberation from such a statist logic, one must not think of
this civil society as simply another possible mechanism for placing the
world under control since it is obviously not equipped to do that. Much
more importantly, civil society invites a more demure manner of living in
this world, apart from the dictates of total governability or instrumental
tyranny. This way of living leaves one more open to fate and insecurity
but also to the yet to be used possibilities of freedom from large, deadly
vacuities.
Chapter 3
The Cultural Landscape of Globalization:

Historical Notes
or our purposes, the notion of “culture” needs to be respecified in

F terms of transnationalization.1 With respect to globalization, three
basic elements readily stand out as major relevant ways of circumscribing
the field of culture. One concerns the cultural status of national borders.
Borders are interesting culturally insofar as they are transgressed, or in-
versely, insofar as they hold back an infusion of cultural signals from
without. The notion of borders here, it must be stressed, refers to cultur-
ally meaningful borders rather than to simply political, colonial, admin-
istrative, or enclave-like ones. Borders are culturally meaningful to the
extent that they house a special and distinctive solidarity. (The dream of
the nation-state was of course to evolve impregnably as such). This means
that one of the approaches to examining the role of culture under trans-
national conditions involves reconfiguring solidarities at levels beyond,
below, or beside national borders.
Second, the idea of culture refers to those elements of everyday life
possessing an expansive character, such as lifestyle patterns, consumption
habits, and expectations in life. In this sense one can speak of a “cultural
economy” in the same sense that the notion of solidarity just mentioned
packages what may be called “cultural politics.” Thus any examination of
transnational culture will also have to consider the degree of globaliza-
tion of lifestyles and associated conceptions of well-being.
Both vertices of cultural politics and of cultural economy, expressed in
common solidarities, habits, standards of behavior, and norms, presuppose
a common knowledge system by which they are communicated across vast
distances. Transnational media is obviously one of the potential pillars of
such a system. Mass travel and the audience for travel reports is another.
Similarities between educational curricula—to the extent that formal edu-
cation plays a formative role—provide further potential support for the
89
90 The Cultural Landscape of Globalization
transnationalization of culture. In addition, one could point out common

modes of communication, such as languages that are widely taught or
understood beyond specific cultural borders (for example, English or
French), although these could be regarded as symptoms rather than
causes of transnationalism.
Thus, in addition to the production of solidarities and lifestyle com-
monalties, the third crucial category that is of interest in cultural trans-
nationalization is the degree to which common systems of knowledge
spread. The following pages will therefore be devoted to assessing the
transnationalization of these three components of cultural practice.
Solidarity and Conflict

As a concept, “solidarity” can be thought of as a useful alternative to sug-
gestions of the essentiality or “authenticity” of collective cultures, pro-
posed in the theory of the clash as well as in better-intentioned visions of
“diversity.” A foundational aspect of the idea of solidarity is common ex-
posure to a formative experience. For instance, the common exposure to
colonialism of vastly different societies established in itself a genre of
transnational solidarities against a common imperial enemy and invited
further theoretical explorations into the ontological grounds of such soli-
darities. The discourse of pan-Africanism, for instance, is more readily
traceable to a common exposure to the rhetoric and practice of colonial-
ism than to preexistent tropes of an essential “African culture.”
This is not to deny the significant similarities within various families
of African cultures. The point is that only after their common exposure
to colonialism did such similarities provide an accentuated rhetorical
fodder of a new pan-Africanist discourse. Thus it is not prudent to sug-
gest that all forms of global solidarity are simply based on constructed
links. Emergent national or “pan” identities (for example, pan-Africanism
or pan-Asianism) may also be based on an attendant observation that
cultural differences within the community imagined pale in comparison
to those separating them from more distant cultural groups. Yet these
grand constructions ignore the similarity everywhere of the cosmopolitan
outlook of major historical entrepôts, which were usually more systemati-
cally linked to other historical entrepôts than they were to their immedi-
ate hinterlands. In the age of nationalism, the hinterland’s exposure to
the world led it to sacrifice rather than adopt the nonchalant cosmopoli-
tanism of the neighboring entrepôt.
Generally, the notion of solidarity is defined in terms of feelings of
The Cultural Landscape of Globalization 91
community, togetherness, or similitude. Furthermore, Foucault suggests

that every society requires not merely symbols of commonality but, more
importantly, “rules of exclusion.”2 Every sense of impregnable parochial-
ism requires its borders. The reality of exclusion calls for a theory to ac-
count for its formation and maintenance. Foucault offers no clues regard-
ing the criteria or dynamics by which rules of exclusion come to be, why
they take particular forms of expression, or how or why they change. In
sociology the concept of exclusion has rarely been theorized adequately,
particularly in terms of nationalism. At one point Max Weber suggested
that in the economy the exclusion of competitors may take more than
simply economic forms: A group may be shut out on the basis of such “ex-
ternally identifiable characteristics” as “race, language, religion, local or
social origin, descent, residence, etc.” Weber, however, offered no particu-
lar theory as to why certain external characteristics are chosen over poten-
tial others, or why they arrive at particular points in time. Instead he sug-
gested a practical process whereby the characteristic that was ultimately
chosen to delineate exclusions was the one that worked best.3
This pragmatic theory of exclusion offers little enlightenment. First, it
is restricted to those acts of exclusion that are clearly economic. Second,
it offers little clue as to why one category of exclusion works more effec-
tively than another at a particular point in time. Third, it leaves out the
question of how a certain type of exclusion disseminates and becomes
acceptable across other lines of division in any community (in the case of
nationalism, for instance, the exclusion of “foreigners” across potentially
hostile class lines). Such difficulties require a digression into the philo-
sophical basis of the concept of exclusion.
In one of the first sociological outlines of the concept, Émile Durk-
heim suggested that the principles of solidarity in society do not refer to
the content of its culture. Rather, any set of norms, beliefs, or cultural
practices could contribute to the formation of a sense of community to
the extent that they become social facts through ritual reenactment. A be-
lieving society, as it appears in The Elementary Forms of Religious Life,
worships not God as much as its own capacity to perform a cultural task
(in this case, to worship) as a collective. Any society, Durkheim suggests,
is motivated by its need to normatize the event of its togetherness by
constructing and adhering to common symbols, beliefs, and practices.
Those common symbols, beliefs, and practices do not exist, therefore,
simply for the sake of their intrinsic value, truth, or logic. In other words,
they have no intrinsic essence.
This lack of essentiality in principle suggests that there should be

little basis for any systematic resistance to transborder associations. The
logical conclusion is that there can be nothing other than time standing
in the way of the emergence of a transnational culture. William McNeill,
who uses the term “polyethnicity” to refer to something akin to what is
being described here as the solidaristic elements of transnational culture,
stresses that this polyethnicity is a natural function of interactive civili-
zation, propagated by the forces of conquest, disease, and trade. For
McNeill, monoethnicity is an attribute of barbarian or marginal socie-
ties, which lack the capacity or the resources to interact regularly with
transnational civilization—a condition characterizing much of northern
Europe before 1750.4
The accumulated record of several millennia of cross-cultural en-
counters, however, shows that in practice the diffusion of cultures is
often not as straightforward as the theory of cultural inessentiality sug-
gests. A parochial culture’s lack of an intrinsic essentiality does not in it-
self indicate it is immediately ready for cultural fusion with “outsiders.”
While cultural fusions have indeed transformed societies and solidarities
as a result of transnational expansions (for example, European city-states
into nation-states), very often such expansions—especially those of secu-
lar identities—ceased their advance at some imagined border of the cul-
ture (whether the state itself reached that same border is a different
question). At what point does the logic of fusion give way to the logic of
distinction?
In his critique of anthropological reason, Johannes Fabian suggests
that visions of cultural or civilizational distinctions have their roots in a
spatiotemporal reconstruction of the real world. For him, “geopolitics has
its ideological foundation in chronopolitics,” which means that inasmuch
as the “West” (a fundamentally geographic category) needs space to occu-
py, it needs “[t]ime to accommodate the schemes of a one-way history:
progress, development, modernity (and their negative mirror images:
stagnation, underdevelopment, tradition).”5 Such a ranking of Others by
their position in a single universal story of evolution serves only to deny
the coeval nature of the world. This scheme establishes chronological dif-
ference and at the same time affirms the universality of one evolutionary
trajectory, to which all are assumed to belong. Theories of social moderni-
zation and economic development have grown out of this paradox.
In Fabian’s theory the Other is a namesake for more fundamental op-
positional categories; a state of “development” needs “underdevelopment”
to become definable, visible, or otherwise meaningful. The positive cate-

gory (that is, “developed”) is that to which the rest of the world is as-
sumed to yearn or gravitate, since without a universal hope for it, it must
be seen as purely accidental or local rather than as a foundation for a
scheme of ranking in a world system. The main founders of sociology
have variously formulated this centrality of developmentalist logic in the
modern world; Durkheim, for instance, had much to say about the evo-
lution from one form of solidarity into another. Max Weber, whose work
was replete with binary oppositions, was partially motivated by the need
to find out why other parts of the world had not exhibited the European
model of progression toward capitalism. For Marx, by contrast, such a
progression was basic to the arguments of dialectical materialism, with
materialist history suggesting universal categories of class positions from
which consciousness, organization, and action would ultimately flow.
It is no accident that such a method of knowing, with its paradoxical
affirmation of both difference and universality, occasioned an increased
European awareness of the “world” from early modern times onward. In
European philosophy, notions of the “world” as a conceptually processed
total reality have gone through several metamorphoses since the “Age of
Discovery.” Hume’s famous invocation of the Aristotelian rule of induc-
tion, for instance, posited the possibility of obtaining knowledge about
the world by generalizing from a particular experience. The well-known
corollary, namely, that knowledge so obtained is unverifiable, is perhaps
less telling than the fact that in spite of this major handicap, this method
of knowing was posited in the first place. The inductive method was
symptomatic of an immense interest in open horizons that were still un-
folding. The concept of the “whole world,” whose gradual emergence
was detected by Braudel, was confronting parochial consciousness every-
where; that is, the concept of the world appeared before there was much
knowledge about the world and in an era when the world seemed vast
and open.6 In that case, one was left with the resources already available
at hand, that is, one had to extrapolate from the field of the already
known. Hence induction, with all its logical shortcomings, as a possible
and legitimate method of knowledge.
By Hume’s time one channel of knowledge about the world comprised
a growing body of travelogues and geographic manuals. Many of those
had been attempts to bring the great Age of Discovery to a conclusion,
and thus they frequently appeared as digests of available information. A
typical example from a large body of works is Roger Barlow’s Brief Summe
of Geographie, published in 1541, consisting almost exclusively of naviga-

tional and economic information. The work lists primarily coordinates,
wind directions, ports of trade, and location of precious metals, notably
gold. Habits, religions, and governing systems in various locations were at
best listed in passing, if at all. In other words, while fragments of knowl-
edge about routes and overseas wealth were slowly accumulating, cultural
knowledge was virtually absent. Furthermore, the difficulty of obtaining
the resources needed for travel from, or even within, Europe restricted its
practice either to well-financed expeditions or to the aristocracy. It was
not until the middle of the nineteenth century that the ascending bour-
geoisie began to popularize travel and break down its elite nature.7 By
that time induction in various forms was, as it still is, a well-established
method for producing and organizing knowledge, but it was being joined
by a growing body of anthropological discoveries, by translations of non-
Western classics, and by a whole industry of professional interpreters of
the cultures of an enormous but circumnavigable world.
Formal logical structures, such as Hume’s, introduce possible ways of
approaching universal knowledge in the actual absence of such knowl-
edge. But if the “world” is interesting as a cultural category, then a purely
logical interest alone may not suffice for its grasp. The need for a ground
deeper than logical formalism was ultimately addressed in Kantian phi-
losophy, where the knowledge of universal totality was inspired, rather,
by moral categories. Pure reason, for Kant, already supplied a priori prin-
ciples of universal morality, irrespective of local circumstances. Central
to that conception was a hypostatized rational being, capable of existing
everywhere and applying the principles of pure reason regardless of the
peculiarities of local circumstances. While Kant was aware of the practi-
cal difficulties of such a proposition, he felt that it could nonetheless be
posited, apparently because pure Reason itself could be posited. The in-
novative direction that Kantian philosophy opened up concerned pre-
cisely the possibility of offering a post-theocratic argument for universally
binding morals. The specter of cultural multiplicity in an expansive world
motivated a search for standard norms that could be referred to regard-
less of local particularities, such as locally specific gods, rituals, practices,
or traditions. Indeed, one may fruitfully consider the post-theocratic
outlook in the context of the fanatic European traditions that had un-
leashed the Crusades and the Reformation wars. Kant’s transnational
morality was introduced in terms of common ethics rather than in terms
of common religions.
That paradigm has been critiqued directly or indirectly in many ways,

most recently in the vociferous debates regarding the heritage of Victo-
rian anthropology in particular. Culminating in the work of Clifford
Geertz, Johannes Fabian, James Clifford, and many others, the debate
can be traced to the late 1950s, when the original salvos, now seemingly
inane, were fired by Peter Winch. Winch’s arguments clustered around
what came to be known as the “charity principle.” In spite of later criti-
cism, the approach advocated by Winch continues to underpin, at a basic
level, an ethic of gnostic pluralism. The foundation of that ethic consists
of suspending one’s referential system when one meets the incomprehen-
sible, in order to consider whether an other-than-customary order of ra-
tionality can account for it. In his voluminous discussions of communica-
tive ethics, Jürgen Habermas refutes this stand by arguing that it is more
hermeneutic severity that matters here than hermeneutic charity. In other
words, when meeting the incomprehensible Other, one must apply inter-
pretive rigor to one’s own method rather than seeking alternative ration-
alities. For Habermas, the advantage of severity over charity is that it pre-
serves the interpreter “from exercising criticism without self-criticism.”8
Habermas’s position involves a return to a Kantian notion of ethical
commonality, but one in which the ethic is confined to communicative
procedure and maintained by communicative competence. If standard
communicative procedures are synonymous with the foundation of cul-
ture, then it follows that universal communicability is transnational cul-
ture itself. This is especially the case if the notion of “culture” refers to
noncoerced participation in adhering to norms, as Kant himself affirms:
“[I]n order that an action should be morally good, it is not enough that it
conform to the moral law, but it must also be done for the sake of the law,
otherwise the conformity is only very contingent and uncertain.”9 This
formulation makes an obvious distinction between retaining a common
culture and simply living with others under a common order of gover-
nance. The existence of a binding law produces in itself no sense of com-
munity, since the pure existence of law is not sufficient to elicit rational
impulses and responses among those affected by it. For Kant, what mat-
ters more is when the common rationality ultimately translates itself into
common laws.
Thus, although this formulation is couched in terms of rationality and
pure Reason, it clearly shows that universal cultural commonality should
precede and itself give rise to universal legal commonality. Separating Kant
from us is a long historical record showing that transnational phenomena
have more often than not proceeded in exactly the opposite direction.
The colonial epoch, postcolonial states, international law, and even the
United Nations could all be understood as direct violations of this pre-
scription. While such events and institutions do have the potential to
develop universal forms of cultural communication, as is evident in the
rhetoric of global modernity, they often lead to the perpetuation of cul-
turally vacuous institutions, such as many postcolonial states. While these
facilitate the functioning of economic and political world order, they may
in themselves engender little public enthusiasm, sense of citizenship, or
solidarity.
Whereas the Kantian framework was responding to the interactions
on a universal scale between culture and governance, further develop-
ments, especially nineteenth-century capitalism, clearly showed the role
of a hitherto less highly regarded dimension, namely, that of economy,
and with that revelation came the evolution of economics itself as a sci-
ence and the rise of the intellectual species aptly described by Robert
Heilbroner as “worldly philosophers.” While the potential impact of that
genesis on the possibilities of global culture had already been noted in
some of Kant’s works (notably Zum ewigen Frieden), nineteenth-century
economic philosophers were becoming increasingly more interested in
the dynamics of the emerging capitalist system, industry, labor, and money
than in the cultural ramifications of that system. They were happy to
leave that enormous burden to the ascending genre of the realistic novel.
Yet the growing attention to economy did not mean that all cultural
ramifications were ruled out of the court of transnational thinking. Marx-
ism, for instance, presumed an economically determined ground for
transnational culture in the comparability of class consciousness across
the globe. The famous distinction between “class in itself ” and “class for
itself ” already spelled out this universality; wherever there was no class
consciousness, wherever schemes of solidarity existed that did not high-
light class positions, we were likely to be dealing with some variety of
consciousness diverted from the material basis of solidarity, which could
be rectified in due time by working out the contradictions produced by
capitalism. Here, the potential universality of class culture is premised on
the actual universality of class societies.
Obviously, the idea of “class” did not furnish the only economic cate-
gory to ground global ethical commonalties in the nineteenth century.
Utilitarian philosophy saw in the interdependence of interests a founda-
tion of such commonalties (though—as with all of the philosophies dis-
cussed here—without couching this explicitly in terms of culture, much

less in terms of transnationalism). As defined by John Stuart Mill, utili-
tarianism prioritized not abstract principles regarding the Good but,
rather, those deeds that were likely to increase universal happiness. That
view therefore deducted from the idea of group solidarity all those prac-
tices that had no necessary relationship to increasing happiness, such as
heroic but pointless self-sacrifice.
At that time, the actual face of universal culture was—as it still is—
yet to be seen. Nonetheless, Mill could detect its basis in the notion of
“interdependence,” whose cultural ramifications he described along strict
lines of utility. Then as now, global economy developed at a much faster
pace than global culture. One could only hope to hurriedly stitch together
cultural clothes to fit, even if only barely, the otherwise naked body of the
economy. And as is not so uncommon in the history of cultural tasks
performed under emergency, the source was found to have already been
supplied long ago, indeed, since biblical times: the commandments “‘To
do as you would be done by,’ and ‘to love your neighbor as yourself,’ con-
stitute the ideal perfection of utilitarian morality.” Adherence to those
dictums being unpredictable in an age of self-interest, Mill proceeded to
propose further institutional supports for that connective morality, a
morality whose applicability was truly global; “laws and social arrange-
ments” could seek to eradicate any disharmony between the happiness or
interests of the individual and those of the whole. In the same way, “edu-
cation and opinion” could instill in individual minds a method of think-
ing through which individual happiness could no longer be conceived of
apart from universal happiness.10
Thus the perception here is that an economic drive, encapsulated as
the pursuit of individual interests, could no longer be arrested by any
common cultural norms. Those norms would then need the support of
such influencing media as “education and opinion,” which are clearly in-
volved in the creation or maintenance of cultural standards not readily
provided by an ethic of progress. It was this declining ability of “culture”
to provide its own support mechanisms that Durkheim and Ferdinand
Tönnies detected as the price of admission into more complex society. For
them, an existing frame of normative solidarity decays in response to the
multiplication of economic interdependencies across different cultures,
thereby creating new conditions of life, new fields of interest, new asso-
ciations, and new schemes of valuations at such a pace that the antecedent
or parochial cultures are caught off guard. In the case of utilitarianism, a
cultural reconstruction was proposed that would essentially meet the

economy on its own terms. That was done by shedding all pretensions to
cultural categories that were aloof from the world and replacing them by
a single category borrowed from the heart of economic discourse itself:
utility.
In sociological literature, many of the schemes outlined above were
woven together in the universal story given us in Norbert Elias’s magnum
opus, Über den Prozess der Zivilisation. Although Elias chose Hegel,
Freud, and Weber as models for his theoretical inspiration rather than
Hume, Kant, or Mill, the latter line of thought provided the basic ele-
ments of the intellectual heritage sociologized in his theory of civilization.
Elias’s story traces the twin processes of the increasing monopoly over the
legitimate exercise of violence in society by the state, and the parallel de-
velopment of a corresponding psychic process of internal self-control. The
latter track, according to Elias, gave rise to modified behaviors; wide-
spread, standard norms; internalized interest in self-control; awareness of
complex webs of interdependence; long-term planning; and resistance to
spontaneity. Thus emerged an individual life conforming to the dictates of
what Freud called “superego” and Hegel called “spirit,” which for Elias
were equivalent terms. The crux of this theory of civilization revolves
around the gradual elimination of individual and communal autonomy
for the sake of both political centricity (manifested in a political center with
monopoly over violence) and civilizational centricity (manifested in the
adherence to standard norms across great geographic divides).
Today Elias’s theory may appear significant not so much for its pre-
sumption of economically driven “progress” toward civilizational unifor-
mity as for being the epitomy of a synthesis of the philosophical and so-
ciological interest in the potential universality of cultural standards and
orders of recognition. Taking a position that unmistakably resembles
Mill’s, Elias proposed that utilitarian rather than altruistic calculations
were one foundation of civilization. In other words, standard norms were
seen to be possible largely when one acknowledges that one is unavoid-
ably located in a massive chain of interdependence. By adhering to such
norms one announces an expectation that others will do the same, there-
by ultimately protecting oneself from surprises and increasing pre-
dictability in the world. The idea of civilization, as expressed here, weds
individual and universal interests in a way more based on the material
needs of the individual than on an innate or fate-inscribed sense of loyalty
to a given tradition, as would have been expected under feudalism.
Elias’s grand sociological synthesis also incorporates important di-

mensions of Kantian ethics, especially in regards to the organic connec-
tion conceived between cultures and formal institutions. The very exis-
tence of civilization, as Elias theorizes it, presupposes not only a rational
interest in civilization as such but, moreover, a standard form of ration-
ality. The basis of that rationality flows from an evolutionary conception
of the idea of civilization whereby it is regarded not as an outcome of de-
crees by elites or central authorities but as a product of a demand from
“below.” That demand emerges out of a long history of global transac-
tions and exchanges that lead to long periods of cross-cultural peace and
to concomitant traditions regarding secure trade routes and honored
agreements. The sum total of such transactions and traditions not only
creates globally ubiquitous civilizational standards but also legitimizes
their institutional and political by-products, which in turn further so-
lidify this civilization and its ideals.
Finally, the knowledge dimension of universal culture, which the prin-
ciple of induction had espoused as a process for extracting secular univer-
sal knowledge from particular knowledge, finds a distinctive expression in
Elias’s theory of civilization. In a very important sense, the standardiza-
tion of norms and manners involves making the world knowable for most
practical purposes. The possibility of extrapolating from local experience
allows one to contour an otherwise unknowable world. This immediate
association of the local and the global, the known and the unknown, does
not simply express a belief in the superiority of one’s own cultural stan-
dards. More significantly, it expresses one’s rational interest in making the
larger world a predictable place as one becomes more involved with it.
The desire for stability, in turn, becomes one of the foundations for long-
term vision and planning. It tames the wild concept of the “world,” fur-
nishing it more as a field in which business could be conducted than as a
field of adventures, unpredictabilities, and uncertain knowledge.
The standpoints addressed above are of course philosophical symptoms
of a historically emergent awareness of the “world” as an expansive notion.
They epitomize various experiments that sought to reassess the question
of common values when other dimensions of social life—economy, gov-
ernance, and information flow—had transgressed parochial boundaries.
As outlined above, one can detect a line of development through which
questions of solidarity, belonging, and social self-definition were gradu-
ally losing their aloofness from more earthly economic transactions.11
That shift employed different categories of analysis. We see a grounding
of universal knowledge on the basis of pure logic in the case of Hume, a

grounding of universal morality on the basis of rationality in the case of
Kant, and a grounding of universal motives on the basis of the economic
language of utility in the case of Mill. In other words, one can detect a
gradual transition from a notion of universal culture to which only logical
thought was foundational, to a further delimitation of logical requisites to
those that could inform action in the world, to a yet further delimitation
of action in the world as an avowed pursuit of interests.
The discussion cannot possibly be exhausted here. The philosophers
just discussed are certainly not the only ones who ventured into modes of
philosophizing that were symptomatic of an orientation toward a univer-
sal dimension of knowledge, actions, or interests as bases of expansive
culture. They do, however, ground various methods of framing trans-
national solidarity (although that was obviously not the only or even an
explicit reason for their coming into being). Major philosophical trends
in the twentieth century, in fact, seem to suggest that visions of solidarity
have totally retreated from considerations of universal totality. Existential
philosophy, with its prioritizing of existence over essence, has clearly
pulled the carpet from underneath the feet of a number of cultural cate-
gories that had been foundational for the theme of common culture,
such as a notion of “human nature.” With the priority of an empty exis-
tence to be filled in by self-directed individuals, the participation in a
common culture came to be seen largely as an issue of voluntary input by
individuals for whom freedom came before community.
In sociological terms this retreat into individualism occasions, para-
doxically, the modern increase in the complexity of networks of inter-
dependence, as Durkheim observed in the changing nature of solidarity
in complex society, or as Tönnies noted in the transition to gesellschaft,
or as Georg Simmel remarked in the emergence of the blasé attitude out
of the semiological profusion in the modern metropolis. More recently,
poststructuralist philosophy, which is being increasingly articulated in
the context of transnationalism,12 has been characterized above all by its
relentless banishment of any notion of representable or essential totality;
even the individual is disputed as a locus of coherent identity. Far from
producing a common global culture, the transnational phenomenon trig-
gers for postmodern thinkers images of fragmentation, or at best ideas of
multiculturalism or cultural pluralism. New types of transnational soli-
darity generally do not generate strong philosophical supporting argu-
ments or well-grounded cultural justifications. The EU is thus far the
best example of this philosophical and cultural lack.13 The EU is easily

identifiable by its transnational institutions, policies, and economies,
none of which has given rise to a “European culture,” much less to soli-
darities stronger than national or regional ones. This lack is all the more
astonishing when one compares it to the integrative role the great world
religions played in times past across enormous distances, and with infi-
nitely more humble means of communication than those at the disposal
of modern societies and institutions of governance.
The inability of contemporary cosmopolitan experiences to translate
themselves into genuine solidarities is obviously not the result of any lack
of communication technology.14 Rather, it has to do with the exhaustion
of the reservoir of theories of universality of culture. But this exhaustion
may only express the decline of the Eurocentric world that had occa-
sioned a particular forum for ideas of totality. The philosophical under-
pinnings outlined earlier—Elias’s included—refer more to the formative
process of European rather than universal polities and concomitant cul-
tures. Civilizational trajectories elsewhere exhibited not only unique pri-
orities but also a diversity of forms of embeddedness in nonstate institu-
tions, such as the family, religion, or community. What was specific to
the Eurocentric model was that many of the solidaristic functions of
nonstate institutions were gradually transferred to or claimed by increas-
ingly complex institutions of governance.
The seeds of this trajectory toward political centers’ monopoly over
solidaristic ideals can already be detected in the images of politics in
classical travelogues, especially those that contrasted different civiliza-
tions. Compare, for instance, two of the most widely read premodern
accounts of the world, from two distinct cultural universes, notably
those of the roughly contemporaneous world explorers Marco Polo and
Ibn Battuta. Ibn Battuta, a Muslim judge and scholar who traversed
west, north, and east Africa; the Middle East; south, Southeast, and
central Asia; and some of China gave far less attention than Marco Polo
to the nature and rituals of political authorities of the lands he visited.
Rather, he emphasized personal stories, daily nuances, and local customs.
In contrast to Marco Polo, he allocated little space for courtly affairs,
and his stories of sovereigns—including the ones he worked for—were
replete with derision for them. By contrast, tales of imperial power, po-
litical conflicts, political figures, and political possibilities are central to
Marco Polo’s account.
What is the source for this difference in emphases? In the Muslim
world the common faith transcended political jurisdictions, and the alle-
giance of the people, especially the urban populace, was not as much to
any mortal order of governance as it was to a generalized “House of
Islam” (Dar al-Islam)—any territory or city in which Islam had a firm
hold. The flux of travelers along trade and pilgrimage routes, which
formed the arteries of the Muslim world, was punctuated after the third
century of the faith—about A.D. 900—by parochial jurisdictions, which
did not correspond in any exact or irrevocable sense to strongly cherished
cultural boundaries. In the words of Ross Dunn, “Muslims on the
move—merchants, scholars, and skilled, literate individuals of all kinds—
regarded the jurisdictions of states as a necessary imposition and gave
them as little attention as possible.”15 Marco Polo’s home, by contrast,
was a city-state, whose walls clearly demarcated the city from the rest of
the world, including much of its immediate countryside. The passion
for the universal potential of Christendom and the adherence to the
cause of the pope of Rome, which permeate Marco Polo’s book, did not
translate into ready accessibility to and citizenship in even Christian do-
mains outside of Venice. On the other hand, Ibn Battuta rarely doubted
that he belonged in any territory of Dar al-Islam, or even his own right
to seek to change local customs, whether in a town in upper Egypt or in
the Maldives, when they violated universally valid precepts of the social
life of the faith as he interpreted it.
In the case of European towns, especially after the downfall of the
Roman Empire, isolated urban centers served to unite political and cul-
tural identities in concentrated nuclei that stood in the world against
other cities as well as against the surrounding countryside, from whose
feudalism many of their citizens had fled. In such a landscape, divided by
both political orders and notions of citizenship, a plenitude of aliens was
always nearby.16 The comparable fragmentation evident in the Muslim
world after the weakening of the Abbasids occasioned a different con-
text: The resulting political units, each combining several important
urban centers, were larger than comparable units in Europe, and yet they
still had to live with a system of culturalist solidarities that disregarded
their borders. There were some basic similarities, nonetheless. In both
Europe and the Muslim world, major political philosophers, such as
Machiavelli and Ibn Khaldun, suggested in different ways that sover-
eigns were interchangeable, since for both thinkers the realm of politics
had its own autonomous laws. But the similarities end there. In the
Muslim world the system of solidarities remained largely insulated from
the impact of dynastic shifts and quarrels. It was fed by an ancient web of
maritime, riverine, and great overland routes, whose reach went far be-
yond the Muslim world itself, even though that world remained for cen-
turies at the heart of the system.17
These routes, like routes everywhere and always throughout the his-
tory of trade, had two preconditions: safe passage and accessibility.
Lengthy trips contributed to a cosmopolitan culture not only by expos-
ing travelers to cross-cultural encounters over many years but, more im-
portantly, by normalizing life on the road. The protagonists of the One
Thousand and One Nights are usually on the road or at sea rather than at
home, and the worlds they come across are yet to be fully known to them:
The world of the road offers wonders, mysteries, adventures, and pos-
sible calamities rather than a coherent or already visited cosmos. With so
much time spent traveling, the sense of belonging, especially for the
merchant class, was informed by paradoxes, ironies, and marvelous con-
trasts. Here cosmopolitan culture was not a product of induction from
the comforts of a sedentary hiding place but an outcome of conducting
one’s life on a route to a number of destinations.
But well-traversed routes themselves presuppose some history of se-
cured passage, instigated by or coupled with a demand for imported
commodities. By pacifying large stretches of Europe and the Mediter-
ranean, Pax Romana not only facilitated trade within the Roman domain
but also established the material basis for Rome’s voracious appetite for
luxuries, providing thereby added stimulus to the land routes and sea
lanes connecting Europe to Arabia, Abyssinia, India, Persia, and Egypt.18
The Umayyad and Abbasid caliphates, which inherited much of the
Byzantine and Sassanid domains, fulfilled similar roles in safeguarding
the routes. Many commentators argue that as a new faith, Islam itself
had its basis in the interest of the merchant class in questions of safe
commerce. The evidence usually cited includes the fact that Muhammad
and many of his early companions made their living through direct in-
volvement in long-distance trade, that commercial terms proliferate in
the Qur’an, and that the holy text shows acute sensitivity to such com-
mercial concerns as the status of contracts, sanctity of property, debt regu-
lation, rules of trusts, and, above all, safe passage.
For the merchant class, maintaining safe roads had a higher value
than maintaining loyalty to parochial orders of governance, especially
when the latter tampered with established rules of the road through un-
welcome regulation or in the course of their struggles against competing
sovereigns. For example, in his account of the Mongol invasion of the

Middle East in the fourteenth century, Ibn Battuta did not blame the
atrocious Mongols as much as he did rulers of the eastern frontiers of
the Muslim world, who, according to him, had instigated the invasion by
undermining the sanctity of transborder commerce.19 Eventually, Ibn
Battuta had the opportunity to observe that some Mongol rulers were
capable of (unorthodox) conversion to Islam in Persia and the Caucasus.
In a way, he was observing that the road, even more than the sword, car-
ried its own magic of cultural diffusion.
During that period, roughly corresponding to the European Middle
Ages and shortly before the plague, international trade routes were gradu-
ally recovering from the great stress in which they had languished nearly
everywhere since the first Crusade. After nearly two centuries of cru-
sades, which undermined much of world trade and exhausted its protec-
tors, the Mongols—their notorious ferocity notwithstanding—assumed,
with a few later exceptions, a significant role in safeguarding the old
routes. Pax Mongolica could be seen less as a feature of a specific imperial
system and more as a transhistorically recurrent linkage system of safe
roads. Whenever nurtured long enough, that condition disseminated
cosmopolitan outlooks and eventually furthered globally oriented dis-
courses of identity or spiritual communion. Under the Mongols, the ini-
tial foundations of cosmopolitanism were not the common cultural sys-
tem of an empire but, rather, the secured condition of multicultural
passage. The eventual conversion of Mongol rulers in central Asia and
Persia to Islam was an outcome of a long period of experimentation with
and exposure to a variety of spiritual suitors. The then-prevailing state of
flux and coexistence itself made possible such celebrated careers as
Marco Polo’s. But that very drive to convert testifies to an already exis-
tent model of solidarity, a model provided by the history of global trade.
The model highlighted action and potential over nature and essence:
People oriented toward the road experience solidarity as expansive rather
than as tied irretrievably to self-enclosed and nonnegotiable local sys-
tems of reference.
Expansive Solidarity, Vagueness, and Enclave Formation

The notion of solidarity as potentially expansive rather than bound by
city walls, however, complicated things in ways that could not have been
expected from the vantage point of the “Middle Ages.”20 Since the
Middle Ages (with the usual interruptions one would expect in any long
story) safety of passage has increased, but there has been a consistent
downgrading of another fundamental element of transnational routes:
free accessibility. In 1791 the French constitution affirmed (rather than
invented) the “liberté d’aller, de rester, de partir,” all in the same breath
(as if coming, staying, and departing were conceptually coterminous).
This relative freedom of movement continued to be the norm in Europe
throughout the nineteenth century.21 It was not until World War I that
the passport and then visas were invented, eventually becoming major
obstacles to free movement. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights
of 1948, according to Robert Goodin’s reading, reveals a further restric-
tion on the principles of movement: “The text of Article 13(2) stipulates
that ‘everyone has the right to leave any country including his own,’ but
implicitly it is only a national who enjoys a right to return to his coun-
try.”22 Thus, while modern passage has arguably become more secure, it
has also become more difficult. It is obvious but still noteworthy that this
restriction has occasioned the rise of nationalism as a secular frame of
solidarity, at the expense of older religious bonds, which were, interest-
ingly, less restrictive of the right of passage or, with some notable excep-
tions, even residence.
These emerging restrictions are grounded in part in demographic
pressures, in another part in responses to the technologies that had made
mass travel possible, especially for the lower classes. But they are also
grounded in the new frames of solidarity expressed through nationalism.
For Benedict Anderson, one of the preconditions of nationalism was the
spread of “horizontal solidarities” at the expense of vertical, removed
centralities (such as a monarch or god). While horizontal solidarities
were not necessarily any less abstract than loyalty to distant and aloof
centers, certain inventions, such as the newspaper or the novel, fed hori-
zontal solidarities by offering daily renewable media to communicate
images of sameness.23 For Foucault, it will be recalled, a search for same-
ness is inseparable from a search for signs of exclusion, and exclusion, as
we have known since Hegel, is part and parcel of the story of formation
of identity.
Such theories of solidarity and exclusion become more interesting, of
course, when we use them not as dogmas but as conceptual aids as we ex-
plore historical specificities and nuances. The legitimacy of new and un-
tried rules of exclusion in some cases may be simply based on magnifying
some aspects of antecedent rules. In Europe, for instance, the history of
anti-Semitism already involved both implicit and explicit restrictions on
immigration and residence similar to those put in place against other

kinds of foreigners in the age of nationalism. But at a more general level,
the question of nationalist exclusions cannot be separated from the en-
trustment of solidarity, hitherto allocated to antecedent systems of reli-
gious and kin bonds, to a secular covenant. What distinguishes national-
ism from religion most glaringly is its fundamentally horizontal nature,
its entrustment of society itself to like mortals, who remain strangers to
each other nonetheless. The American motto “One nation under God”
spells out a paradox that belongs precisely to that point of unsure transi-
tion into nationalism. By themselves, like mortals—experienced on an
everyday basis, error-prone, imperfect, untrustworthy—are less capable
of inviting solidarity than is an aloof, omnipresent god. Abstract secular
rules and regulations, as Max Weber hinted in a different context, be-
come accepted and expected foundations of rationality to the extent that
they avoid appearing to be the creation of any particular individual. In
other words, secular bonds, very much like religious ones, require tran-
scendental, abstract, and imaginary sources of nourishment.
This uncertainty regarding the source that is supposed to nourish and
keep horizontal solidarities together would be expected to require be-
holders to be permanently on guard. Horizontal solidarity alone, unsup-
ported by any verticality, is usually fragile, especially if its members are
habitually abstract to each other. In the case of nationalism, the character
of horizontal solidarity is frequently transformed from fragility to brittle-
ness. The road from fragility to brittleness could indeed be long, and we
should not necessarily assume that the destination will always be reached:
The road has its own character, which may best be identified as a sustain-
able aura of vagueness. Indeed, the classical heritage of sociology was
remarkably alert to, if not actually grounded in, an increased sense of
vagueness in the culture. It commented extensively on the gradual ero-
sion of parochial or antecedent meanings of collective life. Some com-
mentators went as far as arguing that the tropes of uncertainty, vagueness
of identity, and cultural doubt themselves constituted the heart of what
we call modernity.24 One need only mention Durkheim’s preoccupation
with anomie or suicide, Simmel’s with “the tragedy of culture,” Marx’s
with alienation, Weber’s with the split in rationalities. The classic soci-
ologists were witnesses to new conditions of societal life and new orders
of cohesion and solidarity that, as Durkheim pointed out, depart from
mechanical formulations to assume more-complex and less-apparent or-
ganic forms.
The exportation of European modernity (along with much of its

politico-organizational and socioeconomic pillars) to the rest of the world
brought about convoluted variations in modes of transition from “tradi-
tional” to “modern” society. A recurrent theme in studies of such transi-
tions concerns the introduction of general uncertainties. In his study of
the history of a Javan town at the end of the colonial period, Clifford
Geertz described an “advance toward vagueness,” characterized by in-
creased disorientation in the culture.25 A comparable state of affairs was
detected by one of the subaltern historians of India: Gyanendra Pandey
noted an increased sense of profound yet vaguely articulated loss in the
history of an Indian town after its exposure to British rule.26 Many similar
studies reveal deeply destabilizing erosions—accelerated, shaped, or mag-
nified by foreign invasions—of the traditional solidary ethos; nor are
these ethos replaced by ethos possessing the same sense of self-evident
rightness. The resulting disorientation is usually so pervasive, in fact, that
the most complete representation of it can only be literary. One of the
best-known works in this respect remains Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall
Apart, with its minute portrayal of an emergent feeling of grand disorder
as one becomes inexorably enmeshed in powerful colonial influences.
Successful conquests are not just those that simply disempower the
adversary. More specifically, in terms of the psychology of imperialism,
conquest is an event that reshuffles the cognitive cosmos of the adversary
without offering a stable alternative in its place. In The Conquest of
America Tzvetan Todorov identifies the fundamental fissure contributing
to Aztec defeat in the utter failure of their gods to speak at all, to provide
any guidance for action, in light of the baffling, absolute strangeness of
the Spaniards. Likewise, the fulcrum of Cortés’s victory was his ability to
manipulate the language of signs of his nemesis while keeping his own
cards close to his chest.27 That paramount event is thus significant in this
respect because of its seminal instructiveness to subsequent forms of
cross-cultural conquest. From then on, ever more stratagems for dis-
orienting the enemy’s cosmos were added to the antecedent model of
purely coercive supervision, a model of which the Inquisition provided
arguably the last major historical episode.
In the nearly five centuries separating us from those momentous
events, the twin arts of psychological and coercive conquest continued to
be perfected. In contemporary literature, Abdelrahman Munif ’s volumi-
nous masterpiece Cities of Salt offers a far more telling portrayal of the
cultural consequences of incorporation into the world system than any
sociological, political, or historical treatise could ever hope to deliver.

The story reconstructs in rich detail a transformation in values and
sociopolitical organization following the discovery of oil in the desolate,
hitherto population exporting landscape that eventually came to be
known as Saudi Arabia. As a U.S. oil company, with governmental bless-
ing, engendered an uprooting of the patterns of socioeconomic relations
that had defined traditional society, prophesies of the coming end of the
world began to proliferate. Death and departure loom large throughout
Munif ’s volumes, in spite of continued but meek local resistance to the
incursion. What was at stake in the novel, as well as in the actual histori-
cal tale, was nothing less than the determination of the company—and
subsequently of the colluding political authority—to remake or destroy
local patterns of life in any dimension where such patterns stood in the
way of incorporating even that great forlorn terrain into a global politico-
economic machine.
As a “country” is reorganized in order for it to be digested by world
economy on terms dictated largely by outsiders, any new horizontal soli-
darity emerging as a result could be expected to involve different ingredi-
ents than the ones that had occasioned European modernity. Since it is
not uncommon for regions and countries to be incorporated into the
world in pieces rather than wholesale, it is by extension not uncommon for
them to replace “traditional” (“mechanical,” if one is to follow Durkheim)
solidarity with a disjointed, unkempt national household, supplanted
with a formalist facade of collective purpose whose cracks could scarcely
be concealed. In Cities of Salt, as in Ngugi wa Thiongo’s or Achebe’s later
works, one sees a realistic depiction of the entrance upon the politi-
cal stage of a policing elite, tied to the outside world and fortified by
imported technologies of power—whence it becomes increasingly less
rooted or even interested in internal sources of legitimacy. In other
words, the conquest-like incorporation of the subaltern into world politi-
cal economy foreshadows the crystallization of enclaves of global orienta-
tion within each society (for example, orientations apparent only among
specific urban classes or specific economic sectors), much more than it
roots a new sense of horizontal solidarity across society.
That kind of social world reflects itself in the theories attempting to
describe it. In classic sociological theory, there was no consensus as to
how to define the new rules of social cohesion incumbent upon transi-
tion into modernity. One can argue that such a dearth of unified per-
spectives regarding the ground of new solidarity was not so much due to
conceptual problems with social theory as it was itself another symptom

of the ongoing process of social atomization and specialization—which
provided further fodder for the aura of vagueness in the culture. Weber’s
notion of the modern as a condition of split rationalities, for instance,
was premised on a posited multiplicity of values within society, which
were actively competing for self-expression through a variety of distinct
discourses (traditional, legal-rational, instrumental, and so on). The logic
of capitalism, however, requires a particular type of rationality, propelled
by self-interest, driven to guarantee efficiency and rational production,
oriented toward planning, and concerned with a certain degree of every-
day predictability in the world. In themselves, none of these elements of
capitalist rationality demands a particular notion of belonging, unless it
means belonging to any institutional frame that guarantees their exercise.
The transition into vagueness outlined above can thus be accounted
for as an outcome of the elimination of those socio-organizational as-
pects that limit the exercise of capitalist rationality (communal rather
than private property, needs-oriented rather than profit-oriented pro-
duction, cooperative rather than competitive ethics, and so on) as the
society in question is incorporated into a global capitalist system. If the
elimination of such conceptions produces relative vagueness, and if this
vagueness in the culture is not supplemented—as is often the case—by
other than consumer culture, then transnational culture could be under-
stood not as a system of solidarities but, rather, as a globally ubiquitous
feeling of rootlessness.
The road into this rootlessness is still being traveled. But first it is im-
portant to specify what in the culture is really being uprooted and
whether there can be any resistance to this global assault on parochial-
ism. World systems are obviously not new; they have been around for
centuries under one guise or another. What characterizes the modern
world system, as discussed earlier, is the tutelage extended to it by expan-
sive systems of governance. Modernizing governments in the peripheral
world frequently found themselves in a competitive ideological game
with non-state-based systems of solidarity, in spite of the fact that such
systems did not historically lack an internal capacity to negotiate non-
coercive terms of belonging to the world system. Because it was so ex-
treme, one of the best examples of this competition between these two
frames of solidarity remains Atatürk’s Turkey, which is often held up for
its legendary assault on religion in the name of enlightened modern secu-
larism. What is frequently forgotten in that tale is that the Young Turks
were hardly the only group seeking to modernize the country (or the
empire for that matter). Rather, the second half of the nineteenth cen-
tury was witness to peculiarly modern Islamic revivalist movements and
thinkers, represented most famously by the likes of Muhammad ‘Abdo
and Jalaludin Afaghani, among many others. For these reformers, re-
vivalism essentially meant explicitly the rejuvenation of the old faith, so
that it could creatively tackle the issues and spirit of modernity itself,
rather than a reinvention of the past as it had been. Violently aborted by
the triumphant Atatürk, that trajectory was prevented from injecting the
participation in modernity with an aura of local authenticity. Rather,
Atatürk’s victory essentially meant that belonging to the world system
had to take place exclusively on that system’s terms. While we do not
know what the untried alternative would have been, the fact that other
contending paths were being offered also suggests that there was a
time—most of history, indeed—when it was possible simultaneously to
belong to the system and to maintain some sense of voluntarism in that
belonging.
Atatürk’s radical stance against any options other than secular nation-
alism was obviously based on what he saw to be the European model.
However, it was no more than a poor copy. First, in Turkey as well as
elsewhere, it advanced a distinction between secularism and religion that
was much sharper than any western European country had to entertain.
Not only was the internal capacity of religion to reinvent itself thorough-
ly denied, but any equivalent to a European Christian social democratic
party, for example, had to be sequestered into the large cluster of “tradi-
tionalist” sectors excluded from power, or at best regarded with scarcely
concealed official intolerance. Not only did such a state of affairs intro-
duce perennial ideological polarization, but it further guaranteed that
the new ruling elites would essentially remain only narrowly based in the
societies they were ruling, unless they managed to stir up nationalism fre-
quently enough to rally at least urban populations around the state.
The outcome of such a state of affairs is paradoxical but not surpris-
ing; having lost touch with or trust in the unenlightened majority over
which they presided, the proponents of secular modernity and enlight-
enment in the peripheral world had no choice but to run their systems as
dictatorships, frequently surpassing in the art and magnitude of repres-
sion the premodern systems they had displaced. Today, in fact, it is dou-
bly ironic that the Iranian mullahs, who look anything but modern, have
introduced far more participatory democracy to their constituents than
did any of their secular predecessors and most of their neighbors.28 In-
deed, as many commentators are beginning to recognize, the rhetoric of
Islamic movements today is unusually infused with unmistakably mod-
ern notions of progress, development, rights to participation, and sci-
ence.29 Here one sees yet another attempt to join the world rather than
close the door in its face, but to join in a way that would allow one to ne-
gotiate one’s terms, to normalize the affair a little, to combat the en-
croaching feelings of vagueness and rootlessness included in globaliza-
tion’s bill. Few understand that in the West, for modernity here has
always invoked a single meaning fashioned after the one model of the
West’s self-image. Its pluralist claims notwithstanding, Western moder-
nity never developed a capacity or a credible method for understanding op-
tions. If anything, it despised them.
The unavoidability of such issues of culture clearly shows that in spite
of the drive toward vagueness, contemporary globalization is far from
being a mere economic affair to which the status of feelings of belonging
are inconsequential. At the very least, if one wishes somehow to link up
to a world system dominated by strangers, then one must see that system
as being remunerative. We shall now turn to the ramifications of this
pursuit of well-being in a global system rather than in local systems.
Namely, what is of concern here is the diverse understandings of well-
being, the emergence of a global standard for what it means, how it com-
petes with locally rooted ideas of the “good life,” and its role as a compo-
nent in models of transnational culture.
The Cultural Economy

In a little-known memoir entitled The Worlds of a Maasai Warrior, Tepilit
Ole Saitoti tells of his educational odyssey between the worlds of Masai-
land and Europe and the United States, or between the worlds of “tradi-
tion” and modernity. In the very act of writing the story, Saitoti shows
himself to be keenly aware of the novelty of his departure from the tradi-
tion yet fully justified in its violation. The sense of novelty is nowhere
more glaring than in a letter he writes to his father as he lands in
Germany: “I decided to leave our country without your permission, be-
cause when I ran away to the Serengeti and returned, you did not punish
me. Instead you told me that it was up to me to decide how to lead my
life, since you could not advise your children concerning paths you had
not taken.”30 Thus we learn here that from the point of view of the mod-
ern son, the father, as a custodian of the tradition, himself possesses a
remarkably open-ended attitude toward knowledge, leaving substantial

room for what tradition does not provide a priori. And it is this room
that allows for the flourishing of a wide range of experimentations—
some falling within its cosmos, others leading to new pathways.
But unlike his father’s, Saitoti’s attitude toward the world must by ne-
cessity become more structured. Though the path beyond the certitudes
of the Masai way of life had not been charted out by previous or credible
explorers, the basic skills needed to negotiate it were already provided
in his traditional molding as a responsible and observant individual.
Reflecting on his education in Boston, Saitoti says, “I had always been a
responsible and keen herder when I was growing up. The same discipline
went into my schoolwork now.”31 In fact, Saitoti seems to suggest that
both modern and traditional education replicate some salient general
patterns in the life of the individual: “In a way I was repeating the night
of initiation I had gone through. College was similar to treading the rig-
orous path of achieving manhood in Maasailand.”32 Saitoti is aware of
the complexities of his position, since he goes on to reflect on whether
his assimilation of “Western ways” would make him unfit for his earlier
society and wonders aloud about the status of the half-breed he is in the
process of becoming. But the fact that in his traditional upbringing he
had already received the armory of self-discipline, the gift of observance,
and an entitlement to status through initiation means that the basic
building blocks for a universal assimilation of stimuli and knowledge are
already in place. Modernity does not come to tradition from without; it
is tradition itself that supplies modernity with its universal foot soldiers.
The path into the modern, however, was generally charted out in theo-
ries that until very recently labored to set it clearly apart from the tradi-
tional. In contrast to the received vision of the traditional as local and
self-enclosed, the modern was presented in terms of inherently trans-
national tropes. The heritage commonly grouped under the term “devel-
opment theory” was one of the biggest salvos in socioeconomic thought
on the desirability, feasibility, or inevitability of an upcoming global stan-
dardization of styles of life and consumption.While the legacy of Talcott
Parsons in sociology is commonly credited with instigating this largely
abandoned body of work, it must be noted that what is commonly con-
sidered to be its antithetical perspective in sociology, Marxism, also
instigated equally grand designs, even though the motivation was cer-
tainly not the same. The attention of many schools of neo-Marxism, of
which dependency theory was perhaps the most notable, was focused
on “unequal exchange” within an inescapable global economic network.

Christopher Chase-Dunn argued that under unequal exchange the
“periphery” can develop only in relation to itself, since the economic dif-
ferences between it and the “core” tend not to diminish thereby.33 This
implies that the notion of development refers not to an objectively defin-
able economic condition of a society but, rather, to the effort to erase any
distinctions between it and other “core” societies with regards to well-
being. “Development,” in this sense, denotes the abolition of global in-
equalities rather than an abstraction like “prosperity” per se. Thus what
matters in a globally interactive economy is not objective wealth and
well-being but wealth and well-being vis-à-vis other players, specifically
those players who are highly visible in such an economy.
Dependency theory suggested that any enhanced condition of “well-
being” in the peripheries was liable to be stripped of significance or value
because while the peripheries were improving their circumstances, the
core, the model for development, would have enhanced its own condi-
tions of material well-being, thus keeping its distance and distinction
from the periphery on that score. The first logic of well-being in a
transnational economy, therefore, is that well-being is defined not in
terms of local cultural standards but with respect to knowable others. In
this particular type of economy the idea of well-being is driven by emula-
tion pressures, usually most operative among the urban middle and upper
classes. Thus Third World industrialization, far from being uniformly
successful, was nonetheless uniformly informed by exterior models, even
though the locus of such models may have shifted over time.
For example, in many Southeast Asian countries, such as Malaysia or
Indonesia, development strategies were until recently premised on such
slogans as “Look east,” referring to a preference for the Japanese model
over the U.S. model of economic growth. Yet the peripheral world some-
times offers us less audible examples of people who say the equivalent
of “Look inside,” when they wish to do what has already been done
elsewhere. In an interesting anthropological study, Gudrun Dahl and
Gemetchu Megerssa ask a local chief to describe to them the meaning of
the term used by some of the Oromo in Ethiopia to signify “develop-
ment.” The term, fidnaa, paradoxically combines ideas of “growth” and
“stability.” It carries an insistence that development must be tied to
rather than divergent from ancient and customary laws. The fact that
this is not always done gives rise to an apparently new distinction be-
tween good and evil fidnaa: The difference between the two is not in the
material bounty that may result but, rather, in whether the Oromo are
the agents or mere receivers of that development. It is not lost on the
Oromo chief who expounds this local interpretation of development that
all schemes of development that do not adhere to the dictates of the
good fidnaa ultimately result much more in enhancing governmental
power than in actually helping anybody who is supposed to be helped
by them.34
Historically, the sovereign ethics expounded in the fidnaa concept
furnished grounds for largely voluntaristic evolution of global common-
alities in the interpretation of the logic of economic life. Because the
norm governing purely economic action has more to do with interests
than with identity, we can discern instances and periods of transnational
dispersion of economic ideas over broad spaces and different epochs. But
in order to see those instances with clear eyes, one must first dispel the
hermetic Weberian emphasis on elements of uniqueness (for example,
“Western capitalism”), and begin hunting for transregional concordances.
The world system perspective has contributed much to this line of study.
One of its founders, Immanuel Wallerstein, views capitalism as the basic
logic of a globally interactive system dating back to the sixteenth century.
Another world system historian, Janet Abu-Lughod, goes even further
back in history, detecting a global economic system consisting of eight
interactive subsystems between A.D. 1250 and 1350, preceding European
domination. Abu-Lughod stresses the similarities among “Asian, Arab,
and Western forms of capitalism” rather than dissimilarities. Among the
significant and often overlooked similarities, she lists the invention of
money and credit, the availability of mechanisms for pooling capital and
distributing profit, and the independent control exercised by merchants
over their wealth.35
These similarities among various types of historical capitalism spell
out a number of basic orientations that underlie economic action at a
translocal level. First, pooling capital allows the economy to operate at a
significantly larger scale than would be possible if the range of economic
actions were confined to the limits of personal capital. Second, distribut-
ing risk makes adventurous, far-away, and otherwise difficult undertak-
ings more appealing. The very willingness to expand into the realm of
the unknown and take risks—even distributed ones—attests to a recur-
rent realization in the history of capitalism that the knowable, reachable,
or local territory within which a market had hitherto restricted itself has
become saturated. Third, expansion into new markets requires or presup-
poses universally acceptable or exchangeable media of exchange, as

translocal exchange is obviously inconceivable without translocal—that
is, abstract—standards of value.36 Finally, the invention of credit testifies
to the economic imperative of belonging to the market and to the preva-
lence of common expectations attendant to that belonging, even when
individual participants did not have the resources to venture into the
market on their own.
The four elements of economic outlook just mentioned, oriented by
their nature toward others’ ways of conducting business, expand the hori-
zons of individual participants, create new channels for the expression
and discovery of “interests,” and place in motion a network of relations
characterized by interdependence, trustworthiness, and predictability.
The field of interests created by such engagements and by their rules is
part of the world of the market. And those interests are articulated in
terms of the relations—the trade partners, the overall context of con-
ducting business, credit associations, insurance possibilities, media of ex-
change, rules of trade, and so on—that regulate the concomitant belong-
ing to a certain market and one’s status and potentialities within it. But
there is another orientation toward economic life that is more involved
in an idealized conception of life, outside the market and beyond its va-
garies. As an expanded communicative web rather than simply as an ex-
panded market, a transnational economy carries along in its cargo visions
of well-being, clustered around images of the worthy, meaningful, or
otherwise aspired-to lifestyles, across stormy seas, rugged mountains,
and endless steppes.
Of course, none of this need imply that visions of well-being or inter-
ests emerge uniformly across the world, straightforwardly following the
expansion of an economic net. The history of capitalism teems with ex-
amples of difficult cultural transitions in which new values became es-
tablished only through substantial coercion. In her study of the evolution
of a kingship system in the Tongan islands, Christine Gailey shows how
the replacement of kinship-based hierarchical structures with state-
based ones was intimately tied to the gradual incorporation of the islands
into a broader Pacific economy. The process began imperceptibly in the
work of a few European missionaries and traders but ultimately led to
the introduction of new ideas of hierarchy and “proper” gender roles. The
transition was sealed through the dynamics of European colonial rival-
ries, which caused a reshuffling of clannish patterns of authority and led
to state formation. At the economic level the transition was accompanied
by a shift from a gift-based to a cash-based system of economic ex-

change. One of the most difficult accomplishments was the introduction
of the idea of wage-labor, which required a conscious policy of creating
scarcities. The policy was first advocated by Wesleyan missionaries and
involved changing the basis of the right of access to farmland from kin
obligation to cash rent.37 A closely related and equally difficult transfor-
mation was the replacement of gift giving with cash exchanges; in the
case of some items, such as food, it took almost a century of prodding to
make cash exchange the market norm.38
In Cities of Salt Munif captures a twentieth-century transformation of
an even more epic proportion: He describes how an oil company essen-
tially founds a state, whose task is to police a yet to be fully crystallized
array of new values, including concentrated wage-labor. The magnitude
of the transformation can best be appreciated if one keeps in mind that
in cultures that are largely insulated from world economic cycles—such
as Munif ’s seminomadic culture—values tend to circulate across genera-
tions in a remarkably consistent manner. At the time oil was discovered,
the worthy life for the Bedouins was still defined along the lines ob-
served by the historian Mas‘udi nearly a thousand years before. Then,
categories defining the quality of life included service to the tribe, gen-
erosity, austerity, health, and lack of residential confinement or pollu-
tion.39 Mas‘udi’s list of qualities clearly indicate that neither an abstrac-
tion like “money” nor nonmonetary measures of wealth (such as cattle)
were counted by the nomads as sources of good life. In fact, his report in-
dicates that nomads who were aware of the conditions of life in the more
well-to-do towns considered themselves to have the superior lifestyle
nonetheless, on the basis of their own indicators of well-being.
That different motives are involved in economic action is not a novel
idea in the social sciences. Max Weber’s classic The Protestant Ethic and
the Spirit of Capitalism was specifically designed to challenge the priority
of economic motives (and in a way as a rebuttal to Marx’s historical ma-
terialism). While Weber’s work has been widely contested ever since it ap-
peared, it did at least register—even if it did not satisfactorily diagnose—
the observation that very often, economic undertakings are set in motion
by motives other than the pursuit of a standard notion of well-being.
Weber’s approach pinned the profit motive to specific belief systems
rather than positing it as a universal norm. Without a cultural support
system, the profit motive fails. Thus one of the counterexamples to the
Calvinist entrepreneur was the peasant who responded to an increase in
the rate for piece work—an initiative designed to increase production—

by actually producing less.40 That phenomenon was studied more sys-
tematically around the same time by Aleksandr Chayanov, who sought
to explain the failure of Russian peasantry to display the expected re-
sponses to economic incentives. Chayanov concluded that for the peas-
ant a category like “profit” was meaningless. The peasant understood sat-
isfaction of the needs of a confined social universe, usually the family, as
being the sole reason to endure manual labor. As soon as that need was
met, additional work lost its remunerative appeal—even when there was
the potential for making profit—and the peasant ceased working.41
Chayanov’s work seems to suggest, almost predictably, that this pro-
foundly noncapitalist frame of mind is most rooted in sectors of the
population furthest removed from exposure to the bourgeois experience.
The experience of anticolonial common fronts shows how profit-based
and non-profit-based paradigms, both future-oriented, vied against each
other. In the mid-1940s the Congress Party in India spent a good deal of
time discussing Gandhi’s defense of the khadi philosophy of production,
which instructed rural laborers to spin clothes for self-consumption rather
than for sale or profit. Gandhi gave both moral and economic justifications
for the idea, arguing that the proposed alternative—capitalism and heavy
industrialization—invariably led to exploitation and that production for
self-sufficiency was the best way to employ the millions of idle laborers
in the Indian countryside.42 In the long run Gandhi lost the argument.
His proposal represented a peasant-based worldview within the peasant-
bourgeois alliance that won India’s independence, an alliance that ulti-
mately led Jawaharlal Nehru and the Indian bourgeoisie to political power.
In contrast to Gandhi’s vision, the rest of the leadership of the party—
and eventually the country—put forth programs that were attentive to
“successful” economic models, far away from the historical reality of the
Indian village. Nehru spelled out the kind of thinking that was to stand
for that orientation:
The modern mind, that is to say the better type of the modern mind . . . is
governed by a practical idealism for social betterment. It has discarded to
a large extent the philosophical approach of the ancients, their search for
ultimate reality, as well as the devotionalism and mysticism of the me-
dieval period. . . . India, as well as China, must learn from the West, for
the modern West has much to teach, and the spirit of the age is repre-
sented by the West.43
These words, which were uttered amid the struggle for independence
from Britain, indicated that “independence” was not understood to sig-
nify dissociation from the models of economic organization that had
been learned throughout the colonial period. To the contrary: They indi-
cated that the lesson had been learned so well that the only remaining
impediment for its actualization was colonial domination itself.
As much as it motivates innovation, the competitive logic of capital-
ism also requires a willingness to assimilate models of success in business
or in life. This is why one must discard the influential dichotomy that
Karl Polanyi suggested existed between “traditional” and “modern” socie-
ty, whereby the “traditional” was supposed to be driven by emulation of
behaviors and the “modern” by competition.44 One of the important as-
pects of economic globalization, insofar as it informs value systems or
models of social organization, is that the “traditional” periphery always
follows the example and the model of the modern core. Only environ-
mental limitations have ever caused the modern to salute the wisdom of
the traditional. Competition is a global game, in which the core powers
enjoy the advantages of technology, finance, and integrated markets and
the peripheral countries have the “competitive advantage” of cheap and
abundant labor, fewer taxes and regulation, and raw materials. From the
perspective of ruling national elites—which is not necessarily that of
transnational capitalists—one goal of competition for the core is to re-
main in the core and thus to remain an emulable model; in the periphery,
the national goal, by contrast, is to beat the core at its own game, a possi-
bility demonstrated first by the Japanese experience and then by that of
the other “Asian tigers.”
The Emergence of the Economic

These remarks take us back to the old debate regarding the degree of
confluence between the economic and the social, or the extent to which
economic imperatives can restructure cultural patterns. Polanyi’s distinc-
tion between the modern and the traditional was premised on a more
basic distinction between market and nonmarket logics. He argued that
the “market” as we know it came into being only in the nineteenth cen-
tury. For Polanyi, practices such as “reciprocity” and “redistribution,”
which defined traditional arrangements of economic life, as well as ports
of trade with controlled access, were all “nonmarket” situations.45 Braudel
dismissed this distinction between market and nonmarket categories as
meaningless, especially since it presumed a historically untenable dis-
tinction between “economic” versus “social” types of exchange,46 which

for him could not be understood separately.
This perspective was already developed in Marcel Mauss’s seminal
study of the gift, which proposed an anthropologically grounded model
for a total confluence between economic and social exchange. For Mauss,
prestations, as exemplified in the gift, could not be apprehended in terms
of modern categories of economic action. The gift economy not only en-
tailed no distinction between transactions such as buying and selling or
borrowing and lending, but it also organically connected the economic
and the emotive.47 More recently, in a useful adoption of Mauss’s study,
Lewis Hyde proposed a distinction between “logos-trade” and “eros-
trade.” The former denotes forms of rationality presuming individual au-
tonomy, which upholds modern capitalism and modern articulations of
interests. The latter, by contrast, denotes the array of gift-like transac-
tions whose aim is to integrate the individual into community.48 Hyde
argues that capitalism is possible only when individuals break away from
an eros-trade paradigm, since the claims of the community formed by
eros-trade usually compel individuals to dispense away as “gifts” resources
that could otherwise be used for capital accumulation.49
If capitalist rationality can be summed up in terms of logos-trade,
then all we have within its scope are the free play of individual interests.
If this should entail the loss of all sense of communion, then one would
expect there to be no disincentive (save for coercion) for the “losers” to
rise up and force a redistribution of wealth. Indeed, many supporters of
the welfare state, such as John Kenneth Galbraith, argue that capitalism
was saved not by the market’s innately free logic but by the sociopolitical
regulations of the market and by the state’s effort to guarantee a minimal
standard of well-being. However, if one takes the long-range view of his-
tory, forms of political tutelage over capitalism, such as the welfare state,
appear as brief reversals of the hierarchy of the economic over the politi-
cal. The mechanism of this hierarchy is identified by Braudel in the
natural drive of capitalism, which consists of its tendency to assimilate
existing structures and institutions. An example of this trend today
would be the recent efforts of deindustrializing cities and regions in the
United States to maintain economic life through massive subsidies to at-
tract new businesses. Braudel argued that in its historical evolution—
that is, before its regulation in modern times—capitalism tended to use
rather than invent political and social structures, and that it succeeded
best when it reduced the state to a “shadow of itself.”50 Thus, one of the
most important features of economic globalization today is its associa-

tion with a rejuvenation of capitalism in its older, pre–welfare state form,
where sociopolitical structures, to the extent that they are economically
involved at all, merely facilitate the global expansion of capitalism.
As a globally expansive phenomenon, capitalism is perhaps best ap-
prehended as a process rather than a system. The notion of a system de-
scribes best relatively stable structures, such as delimited boundaries
presided over by more or less permanent institutions. The idea of a “sys-
tem” may also describe a relatively confined market economy, which
Braudel distinguishes from capitalism.51 Capitalism can be apprehended
as a process rather than a system in the sense that its built-in driving
force is perpetual expansion and reconfiguration. Unlike systems, pro-
cesses do not propose by necessity an integrative grid organically con-
necting the economic, political, and cultural aspects of life. Thus as a
process, transnational capitalism today does indeed reshuffle the cards,
since economic integration does not presume political or cultural inte-
gration. If anything, integration of political systems today (as in the EU)
can be seen as a method for diffusing political authority rather than as an
attempt to reinvent it at a higher level. And cultural integration of the
world, if it is happening, possesses no structural or systemic prerequi-
sites. The point is that systemic structures, while they still furnish support
for global processes, no longer safeguard a logic of interaction, comple-
mentarity, reciprocity, and mutual reinforcement among the different
spheres of social life.
Thus all we have are processes—economic, political, and cultural—
taking place in distinct logical spheres. But they are clearly not insulated
from each other, since each responds in various ways to the impact of the
others. No economic involvement is independent, after all, of considera-
tions of lifestyle, spheres of belonging, proper relations, and ways of
evaluating one’s worth in comparison to others. In the feudal economy,
for instance, one of the crucial elements of hierarchy was blood lineage, a
category forced into second place after capital with the rise of the bour-
geoisie. This development occasioned a reevaluation of the economic
value of the nobility, from which point onward it began to be seen as
“useless,” especially in comparison to the “active class”—the bourgeoisie
in the towns.52 The concept of “usefulness” emerged not only as an eco-
nomic category but also as a criterion by which an opposition to the
dominant paradigm of economic valuation could take root. The concept
of “usefulness” was introduced primarily in reference to a style of life and
business conduct with which the bourgeoisie was most comfortable. It

referred neither to specific possessions nor to abstract concepts such as
honor or blood, all of which could have been claimed by the nobility.
Rather, it referred simply to a style of life that promised potential acces-
sibility to broader social classes, since it only required the activation of
universal human potentials (prudence, saving, reasoning, assessing, plan-
ning, and so on). It was to be the landmark ethic of a market enlarged
enough to incorporate hitherto untapped resources and enlist yet-to-be-
involved recruits. To be “useful” was to belong to the “active class,” and to
belong to the “active class” was to join a market that put little restriction
on its domain, a market that was poised to enlist entire regions and even-
tually the world.
In one form or another, the image of the “active class” expressed the
same attributes that were highlighted in Weber’s portrayal of the
Protestant ethic. Yet the notion spells out no religious, ethnic, territorial,
or other kind of inherent distinction. The only distinction that is made
here is between universal human properties: action versus idleness. The
bourgeois rhetoric of useful action highlights one of the features of the
spirit of modernity. Against the exclusiveness of the aristocracy, it sought
to establish pragmatic universal categories for status. Far from being
purely rhetorical, the universalizing properties of modernity also pos-
sessed structural support mechanisms. Those are summarized by Anthony
Giddens, who traces to modernity a number of expansive rationalities,
such as the separation of time and space, “disembedding mechanisms”
employed through abstract systems, reflexivity, and regularized use of
knowledge.53 In contrast to the premodern confluence of time and place
in everyday life, the separation of time and space in modernity is brought
forth gradually by networks of interdependence that become so expan-
sive that the consequences of widely dispersed transactions and relations
are felt in localities that may have little input into their formulation and
processes. Thus the experience of the “here,” which is inherently local,
becomes to a great extent determined by the “now,” which has all kinds
of global reference points.
The second major operation at the heart of modernity as outlined by
Giddens, namely, the growth of abstract systems, involves not only stan-
dardizations of media of exchange but also the vesting of power in in-
stitutions that must be “trusted” in an abstract rather than personal or
experiential fashion. Finally, the reflexive quality of modernity inheres
in its abandonment of stagnant and inflexible truths for the sake of a
continually evolving process of knowledge reevaluation, a process possi-

ble only when “new” knowledge becomes a regular expectation. Accord-
ing to Giddens, all three operations “presume universalizing properties
that explain the expansionist” nature of modern life and the “globaliza-
tion of social activity.”54
The transformations just outlined describe the general structural ele-
ments of a path of cultural globalization embarked upon—at least in in-
dustrial societies—since the inception of modernity. As these elements
guide us into the present, they make it possible for new conceptions of
well-being to manifest themselves. In contemporary societies, Giddens
detects as a significant cultural event the rise of “life politics” at the ex-
pense of the old “emancipatory politics.”55 While emancipatory politics
are essentially oriented toward “others”—or at least presuppose them—
life politics concern issues of freedom of decision regarding how an indi-
vidual life should be lived. Life politics, according to Giddens, presup-
pose in themselves a certain degree of emancipation. But the essential
point is that life politics, by focusing on the individual, release one from
the burdens of association with, considering the outlook of, and respon-
sibilities toward others.
This point may be contested on the ground that not all “others” are
sacrificed at the altar of life politics; rather, it is specifically those com-
munities whose integration was highlighted in the political logic of
modernity, notably “nations” and “classes,” that are bypassed. Feminist
and gay movements, for example, are arguably about life politics and a
new kind of individualism, but they do create new kinds of communities.
These communities, furthermore, easily and frequently transgress na-
tional boundaries. But as far as transnational culture is concerned, by pri-
oritizing quality of life and individual freedom above issues of belonging,
life politics inadvertently contribute to the emergence of new genres of
global culture. In the sphere of life politics, the stress is no longer on the
active transformation of the world but, rather, on reducing the ability of
the “world” (one’s country included) to interfere with one’s conduct of an
already emancipated life. In fact, life politics capitalize on the modernist
disunity of time and place and the permanent critique of received knowl-
edge. These become sources for the introduction of a sense of individual
autonomy that national cultures, themselves long infused with those uni-
versalizing ethos, can no longer suppress.
Commentators such as Daniel Bell, on the other hand, place little
value on the potential of life politics to furnish the ground for a potential
global culture oriented toward individual freedom and quality of life.

Bell regards life politics as a major threat to the very culture that gave rise
to capitalism. In his classic The Cultural Contradictions of Capitalism Bell
notes that the prerequisites for capitalist economy, such as rationality,
sobriety, and discipline—ostensibly provided by the Protestant ethic—
were collapsing in the face of the “revolution of rising entitlements,” as is
most clearly evident in the aspiration to limitless material self-fulfillment
attendant on consumer capitalism. For Bell, the hedonism and exhibi-
tionism that are at the heart of life politics are fundamentally irreconcil-
able with the forces that brought forth capitalism, even though the pur-
suit of hedonism is inseparable from the entrenchment of capitalism
itself. The ethical move in the history of capitalism from delayed to im-
mediate gratification, coupled with modernism’s self-referential proclivity
to dramatize each moment, destroys a rational cosmos of time sequence
and measures of value, leaving no standard for coherent judgment. For
Bell, this erosion anticipates the irrationality expressed in postmodern
thought,56 which here is seen as a natural product of highly developed
capitalist culture.
Apart from an unenthusiastic nod toward religion as a connective
communitarian tissue, Bell offers no solution to the dilemma he intro-
duces. In fact, he acknowledges that the only thing that would truly de-
stroy capitalism today would be a return to the vaunted Puritan ethic of
prudent consumption and delayed gratification.57 And in general Bell
never seems confident that moral calls today could by themselves facili-
tate a return to a romanticized fusion between the early capitalist ethos,
communitarian ethics, and a transtemporal rational cosmos. But his the-
sis underscores the increased significance of issues of individual welfare
with the spread and entrenchment of capitalism. For our purposes, how-
ever, it is important to disentangle the two kinds of “entitlements” that
Bell mixes together, namely, those attached to hedonistic pursuits and
those that consist of guarantees and protections demanded from a na-
tional government by its constituency. T. H. Marshall argued in his
aforementioned thesis that the latter was an indispensable twentieth-
century extension of the idea of citizenship whereby social welfare guar-
antees were appended to the civil and political meanings of citizenship
that had emerged in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. This
meant that the legitimacy of national structures of power hinged on their
capacity to fulfill or live up to what had become expected obligations of
governance.
In contrast to Daniel Bell, Marshall did not condemn those “entitle-

ments” or their seekers. The difference in attitudes may be traced in part
to the different sociocultural contexts, European versus U.S., within
which these perspectives were introduced.58 In Europe the feasibility of
the welfare state was premised on contingent conditions—a small num-
ber of users, continuous economic growth, and fiscal solvency of the
state—all of which ceased to be the case by the 1970s. Wolfgang Streeck
suggests that Western European national governments’ activation of
what eventually became the EU after 1985 was underpinned in part by
their growing inability to disavow increasingly expensive obligations to-
ward their national labor forces within national territories. Thus far—
and apart from Britain, where the Thatcherite war on the welfare state
has scored significant material and psychological victories—the disman-
tling of the welfare state has met far greater resistance in Europe than it
has on the other side of the Atlantic, where the idea of state-sponsored
welfare has always had much weaker cultural and political support. In
Europe the older history of welfare is tied to the earlier consolidation of
interventionist governmental systems, and furthermore, the long internal
peace within Western Europe after World War II was consciously re-
lated to these methods of taming the masses by economic guarantees,
alleviating existential anxieties, and displaying capitalism’s ability to offer
bounties left and right at a point when its ideological contestant had all
its teeth and a not-insignificant appeal.59
While originally broadening the idea of citizenship within national
borders, the welfare state was reproduced in various Western countries
and was ultimately stripped of national uniqueness. Thus, rather than fo-
cusing on their own welfare state as a unique source of social citizenship,
citizens of a given set of countries with roughly comparable levels of or
commitments to the idea of social welfare (for example, the EU) come to
redefine the normative level of well-being within a more transnational
than national framework. The sociologist Victor Scardigli, for instance,
applied to Western Europe a model for measuring commonalities in
lifestyle, consisting of three elements: types of productive activities, life
conditions, and attitudes of the population.60 On all three scores he de-
tected a cross-national convergence toward a single lifestyle, a lifestyle
for which mass consumption was a crucial defining element.61 In itself
this finding is not surprising. The interesting point is that the Western
European case illustrates a consequential convergence in “lifestyles,” since
that convergence itself removes many cultural impediments that may
otherwise face political, institutional, and economic integration. The

point is not that integration then becomes inevitable but, rather, that the
economic unification of any territory would be expected to be least prob-
lematic when the different parts of the territory in question exhibit com-
parable lifestyles and definitions of well-being. But by itself this accom-
plishment is not enough to substantiate a union, and as many recent
examples testify, its lack does not in itself make the union impossible.62
Thus the historically emergent confluence between culture and po-
litical economy has less to do with any essentially “national” culture than
with the efforts of various national jurisdictions to arbitrate the fragmen-
tations, dislocations, and conflicts of interest generated regularly by large-
scale business cycles. National culture’s capacity to maintain a sense of
parochialism is not unrelated to a relatively short-lived confluence be-
tween the social and civil meanings of citizenship, a confluence that
served to shield the population from adverse effects of global capitalism.
In its heyday, U.S. capitalism’s nonchalant attitude toward nationalism63
came in part from the fact of an economic domination so extensive that
within the United States itself there was little need for protection against
the global economic machinery.
The most widespread feeling associated with global capitalism is a
mixed one: the allure of adventures, combined with the fear of being
humbled in such a shifty marketplace. The latter is most evident in any
attempt to withdraw from the global processes of capitalism through iso-
lation or to limit a nation’s exposure to them through fortified borders.
These recurrent responses frequently occasion discourses that highlight
government’s role as the economic protector of first resort. More insidi-
ously, they may also accentuate a collective cultural “character” in such a
way that those classified as foreigners, immigrants, or otherwise non-
nationals can be excluded on moral and political (as well as the usual
economic) grounds. One can argue that a history or sociology of trans-
national economy can be written as a history or sociology of such with-
drawals or exclusions, inasmuch as it can be written in terms of the growth
of an expansive sense of communion.
As is well known, the classical Marxist analysis of capital emphasized
a particular angle of exclusionary practice. The fact that capitalism is sus-
tained by an appropriation of the surplus value means that capitalism
sets limits on the replicability of life expectations. For example, theorists
of unequal exchange who posit a core/periphery duality in the global
economy emphasize that while both core and periphery are part of the
same entangled web of interdependencies, the system itself is premised on

structural inequalities, which prevent peripheral countries from catching
up with core countries. Chase-Dunn and Hall stress that “it is world-
systems that develop, not societies.”64 This grandiosely abstract formula-
tion, so frequently encountered in world system research, must be pinned
down more concretely, however, so that one can see the trees in the for-
est. For there are certain agencies in the world economy that “develop”
more than others, and their “development” is what is most dialectically
ingrained in the development of the system at large. The agency that
“develops” most in the world system is naturally the transnational corpo-
ration, which knows that its world is one consisting of similar corpora-
tions, not of countries and societies. In his study of the auto industry, for
example, Jordan Lewis compiled a great deal of evidence to show that
though Ford and Mazda, for instance, are competitors, Mazda regards
its main competitors to be Honda, Nissan, and Toyota, while those of
Ford are Chrysler, General Motors, and Toyota.65 This picture shows
that lines of competition among big concerns do not follow national or
political divisions. In spite of this different map of the world that the
corporations keep for themselves, the existence of boundaries at the lev-
els of politics and popular culture continues to make possible the occa-
sional resort to exclusionary discourse based on foreignness, when one of
the big firms loses shares in the marketplace.
But there are no foreigners at the level of global capitalism. As a
process structured by globally operative economic rules, capitalism has
no intrinsic connection to any particular parochial culture. In modern
times the example of Japan is frequently cited in order to show how
capitalism could be successfully integrated into a cultural context com-
pletely different from that of the West.66 As for earlier times, Weber’s as-
sertion of the uniqueness of Western capitalism has been effectively con-
tested. The universal reach of merchant capitalism, as Abu-Lughod
shows in her study of the medieval world system, was coterminous with a
plurality of cultural paradigms in various world regions that were heavy
participants. An economic world system does not necessarily result in
phasing out differences in value orientations or belief systems. In mod-
ern times, however, one can isolate a number of specific global forces that
have become foundational for the reception of ideas about lifestyles and
for reorienting the meaning of happinness in different contexts: the emu-
lative impulse, the context of power relations, the transformations of
modernity, the welfare standards, and the individualist premise of life
politics. These are sites of contention, conflict, and fragmentation, but not
because they summarize the essence of conflict between global moder-
nity and “traditional” society; we are all moderns now. What the global
forces summed up in the preceding discussion point to are sites of con-
tention as they are interpreted in relation to rather than in opposition to
local paradigms, “cultural” or otherwise. What role such ideas will actu-
ally play in the growth of transnational culture depends not so much on
what they essentially mean as on how they are transmitted, interpreted,
and understood in diverse cultural systems. I would like now to turn to the
structure and dynamics of those channels through which ideas, images,
discourses, and knowledge systems are carried across these distances.
Communication and the Circulation of Icons

The substance of any transnational culture is inherently less knowable
than the simple communicative fact that it entails systematic interactions
with manifest others, who appear as distinct cultural categories. Of
course, there is no reason to presume that the communicative dynamic
involves equality of any sort, since “communication” could very well be a
translation of already existent political and economic imbalances be-
tween communicating parties. But the point is that if the notion of “cul-
ture” means anything when it comes to “cross-cultural” communication,
then it would be a process for the digestion or translation of logics of re-
lations into images. In this sense, the notion of culture refers to the
method of assessment of the boundary between the self and the Other.
The communicative aspect of culture consists of how it defines for the
ego a space and a place to occupy in the world. To that end, knowledge of
difference does not need to be accurate, complete, or certain. A fraction
of a sentence, a totalizing term, a TV image may suffice to create this
knowledge or reinforce already existent hints thereof.
Therefore, transnational “culture” is prefigured first in the mechanisms
that allow the transnational flow of information, before it can be seen in
the dissemination of relatively common beliefs, standards, norms, and
habits. What is this information? How are its signals transmitted? Who
transmits them? How are they interpreted? Who demands what types of
information? These are the essential questions of contemporary global
culture. Premodern transnational cultures were fed by different inputs,
such as common spiritual ideas and expectations supplied by the great
world religions. “Information,” as a referent of knowledge to be supplied,
was essential for global transactions only for Europeans, such as Marco
Polo, who were for the most part strangers to the old world system. Ibn
Battuta, the Muslim contemporary of Marco Polo, frequently mentioned
cross-cultural trade, which flourished despite the lack of linguistic com-
monality among trading communities.67 His reports digress, for example,
on markets in the wilderness of central Asia in which traders were never
certain whether their exchange partners were humans or ghosts.68 That
the mysterious identity of trade partners does little to hinder trade itself
is a well-established trope in economic history. The fabled “silent trade,”
of which there are reports from the time of Herodotus until the late seven-
teenth century, was conducted near the southern edge of the Sahara.
Northern traders left sacks of salt on the ground to be picked up by sub-
Saharan traders in exchange for gold dust or groundnuts at an appointed
time each year, without the traders ever seeing each other.69 As such
reports illustrate, historical trade did not always presuppose extensive
knowledge of the nature of “difference”; in fact, it frequently seemed to
require obliviousness to both the concept and the reality of difference.
With the coming into being of the modern world system, the nature
of trade partners, and all Others, could no longer be left to the integrity
of anonymity. The first Chinese envoy to Europe, Hsieh Fuching
(1890–1894), mentions in his diary that he was requested by officials at
the Foreign Office in London to finally inspect the contents of a box,
still wrapped in its original yellow silk, that had arrived from China more
than seventy years earlier. Hsieh found in the box various gifts intended
for King George III, which had been sent by the Jiaqing emperor
(1796–1820). The box also contained a letter to the king written in
Chinese, Manchurian, and Latin.70 One of the most puzzling aspects
illuminated by the story, of course, is the magnitude of disinterest in the
possibilities offered by a rare contact with a legendary power such as
China, so that a box destined from one royal personage to another could
remain unopened until the nature of the contact between Europe and
China had changed (but it is also noteworthy that the box had not been
disposed of either).
The story is more than one of an aborted contact. The emperor’s let-
ter was essentially an apology for a diplomatic faux pas, in which a
British envoy was dismissed for refusing to prostrate himself before the
emperor as was customary. In discussing the incident, Hsieh Fuching
mentions earlier episodes in which European envoys had been excused
from the prostration because their arrival, unlike that of the envoy in
question, had been preceded by an elaborate arrangement for a different
kind of reception ceremony. In Jiaqing’s case, the emperor was not con-
tent to simply dismiss the recalcitrant British envoy. Rather, he remained
curious about the origins of the Englishman’s unusual behavior and was
finally told about cultural differences in manners and etiquette by gover-
nors of two maritime provinces that had more regular dealings with for-
eigners. Like many emperors preceding him, Jiaqing was willing to toler-
ate prearranged mannerist diversities. And hence the trilingual apology
and the origin of the box of gifts wrapped in yellow silk, destined to re-
main uninspected amid the growing list of exotica in a London govern-
ment office.
Could the box have been opened when it was received? Would that
simple act of reciprocating a communicative gesture have changed his-
tory? Of course, we do not know the answers to hypothetical questions.
But one can only wonder why, in an age of remarkable Western curiosity
and discoveries, such a rare delivery was examined only when it was no
longer capable of effecting any geopolitical shifts in the balance of
power. It is difficult not to assume that had the box been opened and had
its contents been appreciated as they were intended to be by the sender,
there would have been some disruption of then-emergent notions re-
garding the West’s self-assured distinction from “Oriental despotism.” In
his account of the incident, Hsieh Fuching mentions that the habit of
prostrating oneself before the Chinese emperor was widely discussed at
the time in the English press, which was unanimous in asserting that
Englishmen in particular should not be subject to that kind of humilia-
tion. The European indignation at the practice of Oriental prostration
itself cannot be taken seriously. For in 1896, in an ostensibly far more
enlightened age, just a few years after the box had been opened by Hsieh
and nearly three-quarters of a century after the Oriental incident, the
English press printed one of the most famous drawings of the colonial
age, depicting Ashanti chiefs prostrating before upright, proud English
officers, following the latter’s conquest of the former.
At a basic level, therefore, one may distinguish between two kinds of
information characterizing two general structures of global contact.
When the contact is administered by political powers, as in the case just
discussed, it tends to involve dynamics intended for the establishment of
relative hierarchies. These dynamics are not necessarily all that such con-
tacts consist of, but it especially tends to be the case when the relative
standing or comparability of the “civilizations” in question is yet to be
determined. The Chinese and the Ashanti, worlds apart from each other,
were equally mysterious political qualities. From a governmental point of

view, such mysteries can only sensitize its hierarchical imagination. The
other general structure of contact is that characterized by more salient
movements, such as those of trade, pilgrimage, adventure, and so on.
While the incentives for trade, pilgrimage, or adventure point to differ-
ent world outlooks, they are not always easy to separate apart in history.
Pilgrimage and trade routes frequently overlapped in Arabia, Bengal,
China, and elsewhere. For explorers like Ibn Battuta or Ibn Jubayr, pil-
grimage and adventure were synonymous. But at the most basic level,
when the power to impose hierarchies of the political sort is absent, the
common dynamic regulating information in such venues involves a
negotiated settlement with a world that speaks back to the explorer.
The problems of this latter dynamic are richly illustrated in Jonathan
Spence’s re-creation of the story of Hu, which portrays the traumatic
encounter between Foucquet, a French Jesuit, and Hu, a lowly Chinese
literatus who accompanied him to France in 1722. Hu eventually lapsed
into madness and was confined to an insane asylum for most of his stay
in France, which ended in 1726.71 The complicated story is a remarkable
illustration of the problem of communication attendant to the rise of
modern, quasi-anthropological methods of exploration. As he left Canton
Hu left behind as well his world of communicability; thereafter, he could
talk only to those who spoke his language, who were certainly not in
abundant supply in Europe then. Moreover, his madness, which is never
fully accounted for in the sources, seems clearly implicated in two pivotal
conflicts. The first concerns his own interpretation of Christianity, which
he had adopted back in Canton—complete with flavors and accents of
the local ethos of humility and duty. The second pertains to the delimited
task of copying Chinese classics, a task for which he had been imported
into Europe and which he reportedly tried to refrain from doing in his
new world.
Hu’s unexpected outbursts, which were taken as signs of mental ill-
ness—preaching in Chinese to curious Parisian crowds about the separa-
tion of the sexes; refusing luxury items such as blankets, fine clothing,
or even carriage rides; frequently expressing a desire to walk back to
China and write his own book of discoveries along the way—baffled his
European companions, who expected him to be not the articulate dis-
coverer but the mute discovered. In the story of Hu there was little in the
way of dialogic expectations; Hu was never expected to be fit to discover
Europe as Foucquet and the Jesuits were fit to discover China, and in any
case Europe itself was not the issue for them, at least not directly. Fouc-
quet’s lifework in China centered on trying to prove the theological af-
finity between Confucian classics and the Gospel and thus to argue the
case for a historically established communion with a massive chunk of
world population and a formidable empire. In light of such a magnificent
project, the overwhelming delight of discovering the unexpected rooted-
ness of the far-removed Christianity in China decided the parameters
of the communicative dynamic. According to Foucquet’s theory, the
Chinese classics had always spoken to Western Christianity, not to a self-
referential cosmos.
Foucquet’s project and Hu’s madness, thus, are inversely related. For
Hu, all previous reference points were stripped from him as he boarded a
European ship peopled with total strangers. In fact, his departure was a
last-minute, unscheduled interruption of the routine of his life. Having
no theoretical project of his own, the world became for him a blank page
again, for the first time since childhood. Thus the insane desire to walk
rather than sail back to China and to register in detail a thoroughly novel
world. For Foucquet, on the other hand, the knowledge needed to digest
his discovery had already been supplied in his theological training before
he landed in China. In some way, his tale illustrates the trials of the age
of induction as a means for universal knowledge.
In this light, Foucquet’s now little-known theory is not fundamental-
ly different from later and more memorable projects. The popularity in
Europe of such philosophical-literary movements as Romanticism was
based in part on its harmonious communication with the spirit of the
unknown and distant. Edward Said argued that the massive Description
l’Egypte, the main intellectual product of Napoleon’s ill-fated expedition
into Egypt, could be apprehended as a project of inserting Egypt into a
pregiven tableau of world civilizational history rather than as a value-free
project of discovery.72 For Said, it was noteworthy how little space, rela-
tively, was devoted to contemporaneous Egypt in the Description, in a
way not so dissimilar to Foucquet’s earlier lack of interest in contempo-
raneous Chinese reality (or Chinese individuals, for that matter).
These episodes exemplify the emergence of a modernist exploratory
trend whose primary technique was to catalogue comparative civiliza-
tional information following specified methods. In an interesting study
of little-known early-modern European travels, Justin Stagl showed that
the history of European travel began to exhibit formal “methodizing”
tendencies around the 1600s and after. Those tendencies are evidenced
in the growth of a genre of advice manuals to travelers regarding how to

learn “properly” from their adventures.73 While many of the manuals stud-
ied by Stagl stress what might be called “scientific” or “morally neutral”
methods of observation, they regulate travel in the service of a larger
process of comparative cultural inquiry. In the age of advice manuals,
travel was no longer inwardly directed or intended primarily for the en-
richment of the soul, as it had been molded in the declining practice of
European pilgrimage. Travel was becoming a social activity, in the sense
that its narrative was intended to be communicated beyond the soul.
The Role of the Medium

Today the emphasis has shifted away from the content-driven idea of
providing a comparative encyclopedic “catalogue” of cultures toward a
form-driven idea of communication prefigured by the medium itself.74
In the global age, the structure, venues, and very possibilities of infor-
mation transmission are inseparable from questions of control of and
access to technological forms: telecommunications, mass media net-
works, air waves, satellites, systems for the storage, organization, and re-
trieval of information, and so on. One of the most important and basic
considerations regarding all such information technologies concerns the
degree of universal accessibility. This concern is in the nature of the
form, which because of inherent issues of price, location, licensing,
property, profitability, use-right, and so on, give rise to the specter of in-
formation monopoly.
The question of control and access to sophisticated information gath-
ering technologies rises again with every invention in information tech-
nology, only to disappear again as that technology is irreversibly put into
use. That dynamic is exemplified in the now-dormant debate over satellite
telediction in the 1970s. The issue then concerned the deployment of U.S.
satellites that could gather information on the subsoil of all continents,
thereby providing the government in control of such satellites with the
potential for possessing more information about deposits of raw materials
and other unexplored natural riches than governments having sovereignty
over the territories containing such resources.75 Who has the right to
know, share, or control this type of information? What is the status of
national sovereignty in this regard? Does the existence of a technological
capacity to accumulate information on a global scale call for transnational
mechanism for the operation and control of that technology?
These questions, which were at the heart of the debate over teledic-
tion, could be formulated in a broader sense. The capacity of an outside

force to know more about a society than that society could potentially
know about itself has two prerequisites. In the first place, anyone having
this capacity is usually in control of more than just satellites, computers,
and other means for cataloguing encyclopedic systems in retrievable
formats. When it comes to comparative cultural communication, mod-
ern communication technologies ought not to be considered apart from
an inquisitive heritage evident in the history of libraries, translations,
civilizational compendia, and the professionalization of the practices of
transborder knowledge through such academic disciplines as anthro-
pology, regional studies, or some branches of political science. In this
context, the introduction of something like telediction added no new
substance to transborder knowledge. It only magnified an old-fashioned
method of noncommunicative gathering of information from a dis-
tance. The distance was spatial and technological rather than spiritual
or anthropological.
Second, from the point of view of any power—whether governmental
or corporate—that possesses a unique capacity for gathering, storing,
and retrieving information, the problem is less one of access than of
manageability. The existence of diverse fields and capacities for knowl-
edge (satellites, communication technologies, academic disciplines, trans-
lations, and so on), inasmuch as it indicates varying levels and sources of
interest in those that are manifestly Other, tends to create an informa-
tion multifariousness, as well as information overload. This calls for an
effort to organize this knowledge. Of course, we do not have just one way
to organize available information. The “meaning” of information de-
pends, in the ultimate analysis, on such factors as the interests, institu-
tional context, sociopolitical reality, and ideology of the particular group
set out to organize information (such as industries, governments, cultur-
al analysts, missionaries, aid agencies).
As just addressed, the question of the availability and organization of
transnational knowledge concerns noncommunicative episodes, in the
sense that the one who gathers information and the one about whom in-
formation is gathered could be treated as distinct entities. More histori-
cally ubiquitous are those models for collecting and organizing knowl-
edge that presuppose a communicative process. The contribution of this
type of communication to the growth of collective identities was first
highlighted in Karl Deutsch’s seminal study of nationalism, Nationalism
and Social Communication. In each society, Deutsch suggested, there
existed essential units or channels of communication that enhanced feel-

ings of togetherness. Those include transportation networks, cultural
communities, markets, speech communities, and so on. Deutsch cited
many historical cases to support the thesis that such communication
channels make societies. The range of communicative conditions con-
ducive to the growth of social solidarity through communication de-
pended on technology; from the availability of material for advanced
ship building in medieval Norway, which gave rise to the Viking way of
life, to the role of Dutch dikes and polders in creating a cultural distinc-
tion between the Netherlands and Germany, to the use of a particular
bridge-building technology in the Swiss Alps in the thirteenth century,
which “furnished the economic basis for an independent ‘pass state.’”76
The communicative model suggests that with the technical improve-
ment of the means of communication, communities that were isolated
from each other come to exchange those elements within the reservoir of
the cultural symbols that tend to be most common between them.
Ultimately, those larger symbols of commonality become the founda-
tions of a unifying national culture. Ernest Gellner has criticized this
model for its underlying presumption that certain ideas—for example,
nationalism—exist in a latent state, waiting for the evolution of a system
of communication to carry them around. For Gellner, the main concern
is more with the structure of the medium of communication itself than
with what is transmitted through it. It is the existence of abstract, one-
to-many communication systems that engenders acceptance of new
forms of interpersonal links. Thus, in this case, only those who accept
the medium and understand it see themselves as belonging to the com-
munity of the nation.77
Despite different points of emphasis, the various models just summa-
rized posit a view of social communication that presumes openness and
universal accessibility rather than monopoly or restricted access. A fur-
ther presumption in such perspectives flows from the Eurocentric limits
of the thesis regarding the role of mass communication in the formation
and maintenance of collective identities. Many historical and contempo-
rary cases testify that by itself the introduction of mass communication
channels creates no centripetal forces within claimed national borders.
Many postcolonial societies, from continental India to tiny Rwanda,
have experienced violent intergroup fissures in spite of decades of in-
creasing saturation with means of mass communication. Fissures of
varying intensity were also responsible for fragmenting former Eastern
Bloc countries that were organized around transnational principles, no-

tably the Soviet Union, Yugoslavia, and Czechoslovakia. Of course, one
ought not surmise that such a state of affairs could only have played itself
out in a Third World organized by the trials of postcoloniality or in a
Second World organized by internationalist principles. Fissures of the
same nature in such Western locales as Belgium, Canada, and Northern
Ireland have also withstood mass communication’s onslaught upon socie-
ty. Even in a country as saturated with means of mass communication as
the United States, many suggest that race defines, as it has always done,
distinct national categories.78
The frequent failure of centripetal forces to materialize as theories of
mass communication propose seems to suggest that just as they could
contribute to broadening the conceptions of belonging, solidarity, and
identity, channels of communication could also serve merely to consoli-
date preexistent patterns, habits, values, and methods of reasoning.
Mattelart, Delcourt, and Mattelart point out that mass media often sim-
ply trail behind a preexistent mode of evaluating information: “[In
Africa], the journalist has very little credibility among the rural popula-
tion: a piece of news must be supported, discussed and evaluated in terms
of what is known about the informer.”79 In such a case, mass communi-
cation channels simply meet a parochial culture on its own terms. Rather
than effecting any essential cultural change, mass communication here
simply activates or reinforces preexistent patterns, values, and frames of
solidarity. This suggests that for a channel or unit of communication to
transform ordinary social relations, it is not enough that it is simply
made available. It must operate in the context of ongoing social transfor-
mations, as these themselves provide demand for new means and styles of
communication.
Karl Deutsch assumes that in connection to the formation of collec-
tive identities, mass communication operates mostly in the latter fash-
ion. Concretely, he stresses the rate of population enlisted in a system of
communication (“mobilized population”) as a crucial indicator of the
possibility of shifts in patterns of solidarity as a response to new commu-
nication technologies. The yardsticks he proposes for measuring the rate
of “mobilized population” include the ratio of town to rural population;
the percentage of people involved in occupations others than agriculture,
forestry, or fishing; the preponderance of large employment units; news-
paper readership; the number of people paying direct taxes to a central
government, subject to military service, attending school, or participating
in large markets; the volume of mail; and rates of literacy, film atten-
dance, exposure to mass media, registered voters, social security registra-
tion, and so on.80 This list of potential measurements of a population’s
mobilization is clearly structured according to the notion of accessibility.
In other words, it involves a mass of people who are either in a position
to make use of or are exposed to channels that regularly connect them to
a larger social whole.
As pointed out earlier, one of the major problems of this perspective
is that it has little to say about how accessibility in itself creates a sense of
solidarity among those who use or are exposed to channels of communi-
cation. We know, for instance, that it is common for mass media programs
directed toward a hypostatized “common denominator” to be watched
with little attention, for voters to vote without enthusiasm, for school
students or military conscripts to feel constricted by discipline and to
want to leave, for city dwellers to feel alienated from the impersonality
and mass nature of their surroundings or to idealize or long for a vaca-
tion in the isolated country. In this sense, Deutsch’s “mobilized popu-
lation” serves only as a numerical indicator of the rate of accessibility of
channels of communication. It is not a useful indicator of spiritual energy
or investment, nor does it preclude the possibility that communication
channels can be used strictly for utilitarian, everyday purposes rather
than as sources for spiritual energies and abstract systems of bonds.
National as well as transnational solidarities, therefore, cannot be
premised solely on the mere existence of communication channels or
practices that have wide reach or are otherwise accessible. The question
of connective culture is clearly broader than questions of communication
or information. On the other hand, it would seem obvious that the
growth of expansive fields of cultural commonalities and patterns of soli-
darity could be hampered if there were no or only inferior channels and
practices of communication and information. But at this point, it is pre-
cisely those communicative and informational aspects of “culture” that
are most ubiquitous at the transnational level. One cannot argue that in
itself the existence of transnational systems of information dissemination
forms a basis for the evolution of a transnational culture. Rather, one
needs to evaluate the confluence of venues of communication and infor-
mation with the emergence of historic forces in the economy, politics,
and social life. And since these interactions have yet to crystallize into
recognizably stable patterns, their probable ramifications for the pros-
pects of a transnational culture cannot be fully expounded from our van-
tage point. What can be suggested, however, are the dynamics of hope
and use that occasion the coming into existence of a system of communi-
cation or information on a large scale, as we are witnessing today.
Exchange of Factuality and Imagination

Inseparable from the nation-state’s self-awareness, one trajectory involved
in the process of creating a channel, unit, or trope of mass communica-
tion corresponds to efforts by governments to preserve or enhance a na-
tional distinction. This is usually done when it is feared that the imagined
national-rootedness of certain tropes needs special preservationist effort
as they compete against supranational themes driven by supranational
media. Addressing the status of the European film industry as early as
1982, a French official put it succinctly:
The lesson of the last 20 years in Europe is clear: there can be no national
cinema without a policy of aid to the national cinema. This is true for
France, for Italy, for Germany. . . . The example of Great Britain (which
made the opposite choice) is very instructive in this respect: a film indus-
try survives, but British cinema has practically disappeared.81
The demonstrated survival of a film industry in Britain (precisely be-

cause it either dropped or universalized local themes) seems to clearly in-
dicate a purely economic rather than cultural survival because it came at
the price of losing national distinction. The theory that the French (or
German or Italian or Dutch) cinema will fail if not subsidized assumes
that local themes need subsidy because they are more difficult to market
internationally and are thus less profitable to produce. Moreover, such
productions face stiff international competition within their own home
territory. That is, their natural audience is proving itself hospitable to
transnational cultural invasions.82
In part, the incentive for a national government to preserve a sense of
national cultural distinction has much to do with its understanding of
the ground of its own legitimacy. In much of the 1970s and 1980s, dif-
ferent Western European countries committed massive resources to the
creation of information structures (satellites, cable systems, telecommu-
nication, and the like) despite public indifference. From a regional eco-
nomic perspective such expenditures were clearly wasteful, since they
duplicated each other along economically fading national lines. That
such grand projects were grand manifestations of supply without any
realistic assessment of demand spells out a principle that is at the heart

of the political culture of nationalism: In the absence of regional inte-
gration, information systems in a region tend to develop more in order
to keep national governments from falling behind their neighbors in
terms of cultural capacity than in order to meet public demand for such
systems.83
Whereas national governments focus on instrumental cultural ca-
pacity vis-à-vis other governments, national commentators are generally
obsessed with the more philosophical question of the danger posed to
national essence by the flood of generic transnational cultural and enter-
tainment imports. Thousands of examples of this concern can be readily
cited today. To pick one typical example, some local commentators in
Malaysia expressed the need to respond to Western producers’ predilec-
tion to pay attention only to exotic or long-abandoned practices (for
example, topless tribal women) at the expense of the contemporary,
mundane everyday life in the country.84 Those commentators found
themselves ultimately defending government controls over mass media
programming. They rejected the claim that such controls lead to a pre-
valence of non-market-driven “dull” programs, arguing that only the
Western eye perceived them as such. According to this view, by freeing
media from the bonds of the market, benevolent media controls would
create a noncommercial space for productions that are grounded in the
ordinary realities of local life.85
Though driven by different motivations, the two outlined approaches
(subsidy and control) tend to take the national market as a natural mar-
ket for a given culture. Both perspectives entail an awareness that the
world outside is encroaching upon one’s own territory. But it is also ob-
served that in some cases, the domination of a national information mar-
ket by local enterprises is connected to the ability of these enterprises to
develop a working symbiosis with and an orientation toward the world
outside. This is because the consumer base of a “national” entertainment
industry is determined not in terms of the size of a population bounded
by political borders but, rather, in terms of audiences that have an analo-
gous linguistic-cultural universe. Thus a film or a program produced in
Mexico or Argentina could be marketed throughout Latin America and
in Spain; those produced in Egypt or Lebanon circulate just as readily
throughout the entire Arab Middle East and North Africa.
In every world region, in fact, one finds at least one vigorous center of
visual media production, whose products are intended for the region as a
whole as well as for “domestic” audiences. In the Middle East and North
Africa it is Egypt; in Spanish-speaking America, there are Mexico and
Argentina; in central Asia and the Persian Gulf it is India; in Southeast
Asia it is Hong Kong. In addition to such regional centers, in every re-
gion of the world statistics show a disproportionate predominance of
U.S.-produced commercial films in the entertainment market—so much
so, in fact, that in some circles the wide reach of the U.S. entertainment
industry is frequently cited as evidence for the emergence of a global cul-
ture, and some readily refer to “Americanization” when they wish to
summarily describe contemporary cultural globalization.
This view of cultural globalization is justified only if one pays at-
tention to nothing more than the surface. The predominance of U.S.-
produced films over imported films in almost every region of the world is
evident, although there are regional differences (for example, weaker
penetration in Asian countries). This has been the case in spite of a sig-
nificant effort on the part of various national governments to sustain a
viable national film industry, an effort that is now in general decline.
France is the country in Europe that most consciously resisted the
“Americanization” of its culture. Yet 22 percent of the commercial films
shown in France in 1993 were cross-national coproductions; another 60
percent were imports, and of the latter well over half were U.S. films.
This was one of the lowest rates of film imports from the United States
in Western Europe. France also displayed some of the highest rates of
exchange in Europe with non-Western sources of commercial entertain-
ment. Overall, however, the numbers clearly show an entertainment
context that is greatly governed by Western sources (a state of affairs that
contributes to the idea that there is such a unified or relatively distinct
set of values that can be termed “Western culture”). In other words, in
addition to the preponderance of films imported from the United States,
many of whose tropes, styles, genres, and characters are quite familiar to
European audiences, much of what remains of the film market in Europe
consists of exchanges that take place within the EU bloc itself, including
a rising number of inter-EU coproductions.86
The experience of other countries offers a useful comparative per-
spective on how the globalization of culture operates in different regions.
For example, with the exception of the Philippines—which has a unique
historical connection to the United States—Southeast Asian countries
are markedly less interested than are Western Europeans in U.S. com-
mercial entertainment productions, even though the rate of importation
continues to be significant. By contrast, films from other major produc-

tion sites in Asia (namely, Hong Kong, Japan, and to some extent India)
are strongly competitive in the region, while they do not fare nearly as
well in Europe. Similarly, the rate of exchange with Western Europe is
pretty much as dismal, in relative terms, as that represented in Western
Europe for commercial films originating in Asia. This contrast seems to
suggest one trend that is found in many regions: While many of the
commercial entertainment productions from the United States have
enough transnational character to carry them across borders in signifi-
cant numbers, they tend to compete almost exclusively with productions
done within those regions. The relative dearth of the kind of cultural ex-
change represented in film between, say, Europe and Asia illustrates the
point. Thus what we seem to be witnessing is a variety of local cultural
frames competing directly with a single transnational source of cultural
supply.
But there is a larger picture to be gleaned. The remarkable global
presence of the U.S. film industry may not be related to any factor more
strongly than to that industry’s financial resourcefulness, which in an age
of global capitalism has the capacity to open markets already exposed to
other features of a globally organized marketplace. Almost everywhere,
the rate of importation is greater than the rate of local production.
For most countries in the world, in fact, it is dozens of times greater.
Countries with large local markets and a historically established film in-
dustry, such as India, France, Germany, Italy, or Egypt, tend to display
relatively smaller ratios of film imports to locally produced films, mainly
because the size of their national audience and natural export markets
allow more local films to be produced profitably. But even here, it is not
unusual for imports to be several times local production. In some places,
a thriving film-production industry resulted not so much from market
conditions as from conscious official efforts to subsidize cinema as an aid
in the building of a national culture (in Indonesia, for example). In other
cases, a healthy rate of film production seems to be correlated with
unique historical conditions of cultural independence, as in Thailand,
one of the few countries in the world never to have succumbed to colo-
nial rule. Thailand today is also one of the few countries in the world
that still manages to watch (barely) more local than imported films. The
only others who demonstrably accomplish such a feat are the United
States and India.87
The data marshaled here seem to suggest that at least as far as the area
of film is concerned, there is a clear transnational market. But this does

not necessarily mean that there are standard global watching habits.
Contemporary poststructuralist philosophy has questioned the appear-
ance of totality by highlighting the heterogeneity of interpretations.
Reception theory argues that what matters is not that diverse audiences
are watching the same show but, rather, that such audiences are infusing
the same show with their own ways of seeing. When two culturally dis-
tinct audiences watch Dynasty, for instance, do they pay attention to the
same plot, events, characters, or twists? Earlier comparative research has
already indicated that they do not. In Australia, Germany, Spain, or
France, locally produced domestic dramas easily beat the once-popular
Dallas or Dynasty whenever they were in direct competition.88 In Ger-
many and Austria it was only a matter of time before locally produced
incarnations of the highly popular Columbo were offered. In Egypt the
entire modern history of the country was recently serialized in a produc-
tion closely modeled after American domestic dramas. This shows that it
is not “American” culture that is universal but, rather, certain tropes that
could be translated anywhere, and in such a way as to make them appear
unmistakably “local.”89
“Americanization” can be so unthreatening precisely because it is not
so much a representation of a specific national culture as a set of univer-
sally adaptable tropes. Forms of cultural expression that have already
been transnationalized after having emanated from a Western center of
dissemination are no longer thought of as “imports.” The earlier spread
of the novel as a form of literary expression illustrates this dynamic. In
her study of that process of transmission, Mary Layoun argues that, very
much like what we witness today in terms of commercial film, the novel
in places like Egypt or Japan first found its audience among urbanites
who were most likely to be impacted by transnational culture. Eventually
it was reproduced within local contexts, partially replacing previous
forms of literary expression, such as poetry and folktales.90
Thus the issue concerns not “Americanization” as such, a term that
survives either because of its rhetorical value for opponents who regard it
as cultural imperialism or because of the propensity of U.S. patriots for
lazy self-inflation. More precisely, the issue concerns the limits and na-
ture of universal adaptation to which any cultural trope lends itself. In the
context of transnational culture, “adaptation” refers to the possibility that
imported themes and tropes inform productions that appear locally fla-
vored and locally relevant nonetheless. The more this possibility is acted
upon, the more we detect the major shift in receiving habits attendant to
the transnational era. While the essential cultural distinction between
groups in modernity has been seen at the level of both form and content,
transnational trends today are breaking up this perspectivist unity. In the
light of cultural exchange today, the more enduring cultural distinctions
(national or otherwise) are visible to the audience not in the form but
mostly in the content of cultural production. The form is the manner of
presentation and the pure structure of the story; the content is the topical
specificity and uniqueness of its events. It is the form that embodies trans-
national culture. Very often, it is the ability of one form to accommodate
several contents that transnationalizes it. This is especially the case with
commercial entertainment, which, as Mattelart, Delcourt, and Mattelart
suggest, is necessarily transnational in character:
Commerce knows no frontiers. Markets have no limits. But states recog-

nize the limits of other states and public services subscribe to this recog-
nition. Commercial norms are necessarily more international than those
of public service. . . . [In its quest for broad reach, a commercial market is
free to reject] the cultural needs of specialised audiences.91
This does not necessarily imply that “specialized” audiences are unprof-
itable. If all audiences in the world are in some way “specialized” audi-
ences, then the only programs that can be shown profitably across them
are those that allow each such audience to consider itself addressed in
some fashion and to enjoy the nonexclusive reverie of its image, interests,
or worldview paraded within the same episode.92 In the United States an
example of this phenomenon would be the enormously successful Cosby
Show. It has a clear multiracial following, but research demonstrates that
it is watched very differently by blacks and whites.93 The form of the
show, its characters, and their stories, daily situations, and aspirations are
transracial—even universal—in their playfulness. Furthermore, the fact
that the program generally refrains from contentious pedagogical pos-
tures allows different audiences to “fill in the blanks” with desired and
distinct meanings.
It may therefore well be the case that transnational culture essentially
clusters around efforts to fill various voids. To appreciate the complex
dynamics of this structure, one must ask whether the imaginary charac-
ter of transnational culture is operative largely in the field of entertain-
ment. Michèle Legros noted that in Belgium, after the airwaves were
opened up to foreign senders, national television lost ground in enter-

tainment programs but retained its audience in “informational” pro-
grams. That fact raised the possibility that as fictional imagination comes
under the control of “foreigners,” factual discourse remains directed to-
ward the local, more intimate domain.94 Does this mean that in the end,
local reality comes to be felt through an internationalized imagination?
In other words, does the gradual spread of internationalized imaginary
equipment infuse the orientation toward local reality with “exterior”
rather than “indigenous” models? How does the spread of transnational
culture influence factual discourse at a local level?
Tables 1 and 2 provide one useful indicator for this dynamic, namely,
the rate of translation of books in a few significant categories (Table 2)
compared to rates of local production in the same categories (Table 1) in
selected countries.95 While this comparison may be marred by differ-
ences in literacy rates and book readership and by a lack of meaningful
ways to measure the competing oral culture in some places, the trend
among the book audiences is unmistakable. In countries from different
regions and with widely divergent socioeconomic profiles, the rate of arts
and literature among translations far exceeds what it is within locally
produced books. Nearly everywhere, titles in arts and literature—usually
the biggest category of titles—are less than 40 percent of the total. But
within translations, such titles do not fall below 40 percent of the total,
and frequently their rate is much higher. In half of the selected countries,
arts and literature were represented two to three times more among
translations than among locally produced books. The actual level of ex-
posure to this category is certainly even higher, given that works of fic-
tion are usually brought to the market in significantly higher runs than
more serious nonfiction works, a category that includes academic and
scientific books. Furthermore, a relatively low rate of local production of
literary works does not seem to entail less interest in the literary and
artistic imagination of the world.
A similar pattern can be detected in two other categories, namely,
philosophy and religion, even though the rates are generally lower. If we
think that these, combined with literature and the arts, represent the
realm of the imaginary and the ideal, then it may be fruitful to compare
how they fare with respect to genres representing the “factual” realm. As
the tables indicate, the categories representing factual discourse, those
grouped under social and natural sciences, are generally not encountered
among translations as frequently as they are among local books. In fact,
Table 1. Percentage of Titles Published in Selected Countries

Social Natural Arts and
Philosophy Religion Science Science Literature
Egypt 1.9 10.6 12.7 15.1 16.0
India 3.6 7.4 28.3 15.4 40.5
Thailand 2.5 4.0 36.2 37.1 11.8
Japan 4.3 1.8 29.3 20.9 39.6
France 4.5 3.1 31.7 18.5 37.7
Germany 5.1 5.4 36.2 17.8 26.6
Italy 5.4 6.2 30.8 14.8 38.0
Brazil 10.6 13.1 32.4 14.4 15.8
Source: UNESCO. Statistical Yearbook. Paris: UNESCO, 1996.
Note: Data for Japan and Thailand are for 1992; for Egypt, 1993; for all others, 1994. For
statistical purposes social sciences include geography and history, and natural science in-
cludes both pure and applied.
for the social sciences in particular, the percentage of titles is usually sev-
eral times lower among translations than it is among local books. This
observation seems to confirm the universality of what Legros suggested
on the basis of the Belgian experience regarding the comparative vulner-
ability to transnationalism of the imaginary as opposed to the factual
realms. While there is still no evidence suggesting the inevitable growth
of horizontal solidarity across—and sometimes even within—national
borders, there is a great deal of evidence from communication practices
(films, mass media broadcasts, translations, and so on) to suggest that
there is at least one dimension of human intellectual engagement that
is more heavily invested in crossborder transactions than others: the
fictional, literary, entertainment-oriented, or otherwise imaginary and
ideational domains. Factual or informational discourse matters less and
less the farther it is from one’s house. While the factual-informational
nexus continues to be referenced by local, national, or regional yard-
sticks, the imaginary-ideational one seems to be well equipped, or even
more naturally expected, to escape such a prison. The ground for this ca-
pacity has already been offered by the globalization of modernity and,
furthermore, by the loss of control over globalization by institutional ac-
tors, who are most associated with the declining factual and informa-
tional realm. As Kant once suggested, the “world” can only be imagined.
This does not mean, however, that the informational aspect of trans-
Table 2. Percentage of Translated Titles

Social Natural Arts and
Philosophy Religion Science Science Literature
Egypt 6.2 22.5 21.7 8.5 40.3
India 6.1 17.4 21.5 4.8 49.3
Thailand 19.4 1.0 2.8 12.0 64.8
Japan 5.9 4.0 20.9 21.6 47.0
France 5.9 8.5 15.2 15.1 54.5
West Germany 8.0 7.7 11.5 11.7 60.7
Italy 7.5 11.8 16.6 17.3 46.2
Brazil 9.3 13.1 13.9 14.6 48.5
Source: UNESCO. Statistical Yearbook. Paris: UNESCO, 1993.
Note: Data for Thailand are for 1985; for all others, 1994. For statistical purposes social
sciences include geography and history, and natural science includes both pure and
applied.
national communication is any less consequential. Information and

news, transmitted across borders at a vast rate and creating worldviews
and reactions to them nearly everywhere, tend to be generated by a small
number of sources. Today there is only a handful of truly international
news agencies, all based in the West. The recent wars in the Persian Gulf
and the former Yugoslavia offered a not too vigorously contested prelude
to how the dissemination of information on a world scale could be so ef-
fectively controlled by a single source—or at least by a number of sources
sharing the same goal. This degree of information control is repeatable,
since all the structures that brought it about are still in place, their logic
and manner of control having been largely accepted, or at least left
unchallenged. On the other hand, it could be said that this is neither
new nor without foundations in the political economy of imperialism.
Transnational channels of information do not operate outside of the
ideational limits of the politico-economic determinants of the world sys-
tem.96 Our only consolation is that the transnational channels of the
imaginary have the capacity to transcend such determinants, and at a
more profuse pace. Yet in order for those alternative channels of the
imaginary to work effectively upon the world and upon global life, they
will need more and more the aid of the autonomous habits and liberated
energies of alternative civil societies everywhere.
Conclusion
Control, Rationality, and Solidarity

in the Global Age
ow I would like to draw what I think are the most pertinent and
N practical implications of the range of arguments presented in this
volume. It is useful to revisit the analytical distinction among the three
spheres of economy, politics, and culture that is common in studies of
globalization. In particular, what is of interest here are those elements
that reveal new patterns of dialogue and disjunction among such spheres.
Economy and the Question of Control

Research on patterns of economic life in the modern global era lends
general support to three main observations.
1. The obvious schemes of economic deregulation that one sees in most
countries and across borders suggest a reemergence of a pre-Depression
(or even late-nineteenth-century) model of economic life, long sup-
pressed by statist regulations and Keynesian paradigms. However, there
is an important novelty to be taken into account here; namely, that capi-
tal now operates at a higher degree of global coordination, centralization,
and systematization than during the pre-Depression era and is therefore
less anarchic in operation, though certainly more prone to quick move-
ment. The reign of global financial capital, which changes hands now at
eight times the rate of its circulation just five decades ago, is one of the
clearest manifestations of this mobility. Put differently, one of the funda-
mental economic features of globalization is that capital has managed to
reacquire the sense of autonomy from politically inspired regulation that
it lost several decades ago. Yet its new autonomy possesses new features,
notably that the institutions facilitating the movement and flow of trans-
national capital are more sophisticated. Along with this we find a largely
successful effort by coordinated capital to provoke just enough of political
147
148 Control, Rationality, and Solidarity
coordination to ensure that the world becomes as open as it is possible

for it to be, so that the autonomy and prosperity of global capital may be
sustained.
2. Along with this, we are witnessing the reemergence of even older
features of capital, namely, from the precolonial, chartered companies
era, although here as well there are some important modifications. As is
well known, one of the main problems with the chartered companies was
their need for new types of control over new types of markets. Control
was then a novel obsession, especially in light of the decentralized and
diffuse voluntarism that had characterized earlier patterns of global
trade. That predicament mandated that the chartered company would
assume state-like functions, most notoriously coercive and bureaucratic
ones. It is unlikely that this pattern will be reenacted as it was.1 What is
more likely, however, is the enactment of a modern variation of the coop-
erative, voluntary rules that governed the medieval world system as de-
scribed by Janet Abu-Lughod, translated into a set of new institutions of
transnational corporate governance and adjudication of claims, some of
which are described by Saskia Sassen. That is, the kinds of controls that
regulate claims and rights attendant to the free flow of globally operative
capital are now likely to be of an institutionalized but not politically ac-
countable type. This leads to types of control that are both diffuse and
shared. What this means, essentially, is that terms of control exercised on
behalf of economic interests on a global scale come more and more to
possess less-transparent features than either those terms of control that
characterized the chartered companies era or those terms that character-
ized the subsequent era of political tutelage over such companies and
over the economy at large.
3. These points raise the question that has been addressed many times
in the course of this volume, namely, that of the possibility of politically
regulating economic life in the global age. The likely instrument of gov-
ernance on a global scale is the World Trade Organization or, in a braver
world, something modeled after the European Commission. Such an
institution would confine itself to ensuring coherence of economic gov-
ernance and policies. Though these institutions are not accountable to
voters, they are not exactly “totalitarian” because they are not expected to
operate at the global level exactly as governments have operated at the
national level. These new technocracies are unlikely to model themselves
after the corpus mysticum as national governments have, since they rep-
Control, Rationality, and Solidarity 149
resent nobody in particular and are simply administrative structures

enforcing treaties. But if the idea of “regulation” entails enshrining on a
global scale the same capacities that until the recent past were possible
only within national boundaries, then we are obviously talking about the
semblance of a “world state.” The term has already been suggested by
many who cannot imagine modes of regulation other than those paral-
leling what has become customary through long habit and exposure. But
novelties require original thinking. One cannot afford to remain weighed
down by the sheer force of the customary when its application in one
context may be fruitful and in another disastrous.
A “world state” is only likely to be the most totalitarian institution
that humanity has ever come to know. One may argue that if it some-
what mitigates conditions of exploitation, then it can be accepted as an
updated version of the Social Contract, a version fit for a global age
where economic concerns have become paramount; in this case, some
freedom would be removed from the world in exchange for a semblance
of “economic justice.”
There are four basic problems with this proposal. The first concerns
the question as to the source of the criteria according to which some val-
ues can be ranked above others. In this instance, the question is whether
totalitarian control with unlimited reach and power is preferable to con-
ditions that may be conducive to exploitation, or, put differently, whether
the danger to freedom inherent in totalitarian proposals is less menacing
than the danger of exploitation inherent in relatively free economic life.
Proposals in one direction or another frequently miss this starting point,
which requires that one should defend and make clear the criteria ac-
cording to which one danger is worse than another, especially since no
one has thus far been able to propose any total scheme lacking in any
danger.2
The second basic problem with the proposal for global governance
that would operate after the model of a “world state” flows from the first.
That is, some would contest my assertion that such a state must by ne-
cessity be totalitarian. They would argue that with proper safeguards the
world state can be democratized and thus made to operate with suffi-
cient legitimacy and on behalf of large, huddled constituencies rather
than small but resourceful interest groups. This is possible only in some
fantasy land. In the first place, the character of any political institution is
most likely to be determined by its creators, who can be counted upon
not to make any conscious mistakes in constructing it so that it fulfills

expected functions. Who is likely to be the creator? An institution of
global governance is certainly not going to be brought into being by
“global society” as such, as this is an abstraction that exists nowhere at
the operational level. Rather, it is likely to be created by existing govern-
ments and existing bureaucracies, which have demonstrated time and
again that when they seek the help of global institutions, they do so pre-
cisely because their democracies have become too burdensome and re-
strictive to their action. The global level, in other words, has always been
used by national governments as a foil to the undesirable facets of internal
politics, and there is no reason to expect that global governance would be
used for any other purpose. In the third place, any enlargement of the
scale of political institutions, as observed in a rich tradition running from
Aristotle to Rousseau, entails a direct threat to democracy, since totali-
tarianism can be curtailed best at the tangible level of tangible communi-
ties. Most malfunctions of contemporary democracies—for example, in
the United States, the thoroughly corrupt system of legalized bribery,
panoptical control, mass indoctrination, and popular conformity—can
be traced directly to the scale of those democracies. It is highly unlikely
that extending this model into an even greater global level would lead to
happier results, for at the global level not just individuals but even large
political organizations become totally invisible to governance and thus
easier than ever before to dismiss or ignore.
The fourth major problem with a proposal that would model global
governance after statist governance has to do with what it hides from our
sight, namely, that questions of control do not necessarily invite visions
of total control. We may, for example, want to consider models of partial
control, or even models that can be described as variants on “organized
anarchy.” The global age indeed invites us to imagine not how the world
can be controlled better but, rather, how we can unlearn the modernist
heritage and fantasy of total, panoptical, and instrumental mastery over
society. What the world requires most is not more-total governability
but the introduction of spaces of ungovernability. These spaces, in turn,
would be more in tune with the requisites of cultivating the less institu-
tionalizable aspects of human life, thus making it possible for autono-
mous action upon the world to flourish everywhere.
That is to say, if it is accepted that any great transformation involves
by its nature major social dislocations, the combat strategy would require
a level of originality, innovation, and adjustment commensurate with the
magnitude of these realities but also attentive to the opportunities that

each new threat in the world provides us. In this case, the decline of the
customary, statist custodians of societies finally leaves adequate space for
the reactivation of dormant energies, notably, those of civil society, but
now on a global scale. In other words, by weakening the nation-state
globalization offers us the opportunity to activate sources of social life
long suppressed by nationalism and to imagine new types of global con-
nections between them. The social world created by such connections
would by its nature be more prosaic and less bureaucratic than statist
polities, less prone to diplomatic games, and perhaps even more attuned
to the face value and constancy of principles. Its action, unlike that of the
totalitarian “world state,” would therefore be charted along a path char-
acterized by a multiplicity of centers of action, a diversity of causes, and a
wide range of possible tactics and alliances rather than emanating from a
strong and unchallengeable center. Its structure, in other words, will not
always guarantee its success in its undertakings, but it will make it pos-
sible for life in the world to free itself once more from the tutelage of
morose institutionalities.
Politics and the Question of Rationality

These remarks suggest that the forms of politics most appropriate for the
global era would possess altogether different formats and venues than
has hitherto been imaginable. However, and as outlined earlier in this
volume, once existing political institutions find the rug pulled from
under their feet by economic or cultural forces—as these depart from the
modernist symbiosis among the three spheres—they may resist extinc-
tion and give us, therefore, thoroughly irrational politics. That is, when
institutions built for the requirements of one era are no longer fit for a
new era, they frequently seek to survive by imagining new purposes.
These new purposes, however, are appropriate for the new era only to the
extent that they conform to its integral rationality; otherwise the institu-
tion’s new purpose becomes a recipe for irrational behavior, as discussed
in chapter 2.
How do we know the difference between systemic rationality and ir-
rationality? What needs to be specified here is what the term “rationality”
signifies in different epochs. As outlined in the Introduction, a rational
outlook does not correspond to “reason” as such, nor should it be under-
stood as a venue from which one arrives at “truth.” Rather, a rational out-
look is primarily an integrated outlook, in which the various spheres of
life are brought together into systemic complementarity and in which

this complementarity cultivates a sense of wholeness. In the context of
the three spheres discussed here, a rational outlook would be the kind of
outlook that connects at the deepest level the logics of economy, politics,
and culture and advises action in the world on the basis of this connec-
tion and harmony of vision. Irrational behavior, which we see mostly
today in the field of new imperial politics but which also has some cul-
tural and even economic expressions, stems precisely from the disinte-
gration of this sense of wholeness.
In this scheme it is possible to imagine and outline different grades of
rationality. Not all rationalities are equal. The superiority of one form of
rationality over another, however, is not to be outlined in terms of the
lazy (and hopefully outmoded) generalizations about levels of “civiliza-
tional” attainment of a culture or society. For example, if it is accepted
that rationality means meaningfully and organically integrated (rather
than superficially, tenuously, haphazardly, or temporarily integrated)
world outlooks, then we may actually expect to see it exhibited more in
stable, “traditional” societies than in postindustrial societies experiencing
constant dislocations or in rapidly industrializing societies experiencing
frequent alterations of erstwhile predictable patterns of life. If one is to
express it as a physical law, one can say that irrationality introduces itself
at a rate inverse to the synchronicity of the wheels of the various spheres
of social life.
Irrationalities of that sort are thus to be expected to some extent in
every society and every epoch. The dilemma concerns how to confine ir-
rationality to the corners of social life where it is least dangerous. The
problem of our epoch, as outlined before, consists in that precisely the
opposite seems to be happening; that is, irrationality now exists and op-
erates at the summit of society rather than at its margins. It is exhibited
in a political life devoid of the capacity or the willingness to act upon the
economic and cultural forces of the global period, and within institutions
that maintain an inherited capacity for great levels of destruction and co-
ercion. Irrational politics are to be expected in this type of world, but our
fateful problem is how to remove as much of the coercive and destructive
armory of the state as is commensurate with making its expected irra-
tionality safe enough to live with—both for the world at large and for in-
dividual societies.
The other main problem for political life brought forth by globaliza-
tion has to do with the future of nationalism. On the surface, it may be
possible to assert that globalization finally offers the world an opportu-

nity to bury the hideous face of nationalism once and for all (including
not only bombastic and nervous expressions of nationalism but also
deep-seated and unconscious nationalisms, notably, that of the United
States).3 However, the arrival of irrationalities to which any new era de-
livers profuse invitations quickly complicates this happy expectation.
Various types of nationalism, ethnonationalism, and religious national-
ism have begun to emerge in the recent past all over the world, at a time
when it was thought that nationalism was on its way out as a frame of
solidarity. It is easy but mistaken to see these movements as expressing
similar global patterns or to take the surface for the essence. For these
expressions of collective sentiments and new forms of solidarity, on
which I will say more in the following section, conform in the global era
to the effort to belong to rather than to isolate oneself from the world.
Despite all the noise it seems to be making today, the nation is dead.
Though it was once one of the most successful modernist frames of soli-
darity—expressing an attempt at a symbiosis with institutional struc-
tures of the state and economic sensitivity to collective welfare—the na-
tional project, precisely in that form, has now expired. What is left of it
now are the irrational, disconnected residues from an earlier aura of har-
mony, which had been buttressed by a modicum of integration of ab-
stract solidarity into political and economic outlines.
There are parts of the world, of course, that are exceptions, notably,
the Balkans, Israel/Palestine, and Turkey. In each of these cases one
can detect not a global pattern but, rather, an exception to the logic of
the times, born out of exceptional circumstances. Those circumstances
are usually expressed in terms of a weighty heritage, which is main-
tained as incendiary material at the disposal of political actors and
which, especially on the part of the stronger players in each case, has
been used as the raison d’être of the polity itself. But even in such
cases, one can detect the irrationality of insulated political logics in
their divorce from the larger logic of the times. This is no more evident
than in such visions of settlement for national conflicts as one finds in
the Middle East. These visions anticipate that any solution to the con-
flicts that plague the region would, while claiming to rectify horrible
past injustices and satisfy national aspirations, at the same time require
more regional integration, diffuse statehoods and sovereignties, and
advice to all inhabitants to pursue common goals of prosperity rather
than “ideology.”
Culture and the Question of Solidarity

Such a vision would only be in tune with the new types of solidarity that
seem to be emanating in various permutations across the globe and that
point to different formats than the ones we have hitherto experienced.
At one level, we can detect the rebirth of subnational solidarities in vari-
ous countries—regional, tribal, ethnic, or the like. In Europe, the ones
that have so far succeeded best in institutionalizing themselves are those
of Scotland and Wales. We can expect this pattern to spread further, as it
is one of the natural outcomes of the weakening of the sovereignty of the
nation-state, its relinquishing of social responsibilities, and sometimes its
voluntary devolution of power to local centers.
At a different level, that is, above the nation-state, we find various
schemes of global solidarity also taking shape, on the heels of the ex-
haustion of the energies that had sustained it.4 We can isolate at least
four such types of global solidarity.
1. Spiritual movements. The global growth of religious solidarities, es-
pecially, and the effort to recruit new converts seems to recall an older
pattern of solidarity than that of nation-state. This trend, which began to
gather momentum in various world regions from the late 1970s onward,
is characterized by a different level of religious fervor than the one that
had typified traditional societies, both in the peripheries and in the cen-
ters. The new fervor is not just characterized by seemingly deeper and
more communalistic sentiments than had been the case with adherents
from older generations. Significantly, it is also coupled with a more vig-
orous sense of global mission.
There are two immediately discernible versions of these spiritual soli-
darities. A “weak” version is manifested, for example, in versions of
Eastern spirituality being adopted in the West or in Gaia-like ideologies;
the emphasis is on personal growth and connecting the individual,
through personal, voluntaristic, and meditative effort, to larger cosmic
potentials that are nonetheless seen to inhere in the individual. The sec-
ond, or “strong” version, typifies what has come to be called “fundamen-
talism,” both in the East and the West. Unlike the weak version of spiri-
tual solidarity, the strong version involves more emphatic commitments
to communalistic ventures whereby the spiritual effort is coupled with
the building of social institutions—schools, hospitals, charities, banks,
mutual aid societies, and the like—that solidify the ranks of such move-
ments at the same time that they fulfill roles within the context of the
everyday life of the faithful.
Both of these versions are in many respects in tune with rather
than opposed to the spirit of their times, as discussed in chapter 3. Their
main targets are not such programs as “development,” “progress,” or
“modernization”—terms that they themselves frequently use. Rather,
they seek to counter the global conditions of vagueness that are associ-
ated with cultural globalization (discussed in chapter 3) in order to re-
place it with deep meaning. This deep meaning, in turn, emanates not so
much from pure logical requisites as from social standpoints: a desire to
show the resourcefulness of the spirit in providing vigor and autonomy
in an otherwise thoroughly governed world and to demonstrate this au-
tonomy in a direct challenge to imperialism and political authorities.
These attitudes do not reject globalization. If anything, they are them-
selves among the products of cultural globalization. Like all other such
products, they link an individual psyche into global spirits, but here
through an aura of authenticity rather than of passivity and surrender.
2. Class solidarities. The gradual decline of organized class solidarities,
and the concomitant decline in the power of organized labor in many
countries over the past few years, frequently obscure the growth and en-
trenchment of such solidarities at the global level. It is easy to overlook
this fact because the nature of the global class solidarities are not thus far
taking the forms expected in Marxist theory, which has become the ha-
bitual prism through which we seek to discern such manifestations.
There are two important qualifications that are warranted in this regard
(neither of which necessarily contradict Marx).
First, the term “class” is useful because it presupposes an orientation
toward “interests.” That is, what the term describes here is the primacy of
the transnational connectivity of those classes that have shared interests,
above transclass connectivity in each society presupposed in outlines of
national solidarity. In other words, with its orientation toward material
conditions, class solidarity can just as well be described, and perhaps
more accurately, as “interests-oriented solidarity.”
Second, transnational class connectivities so far appear to be more de-
veloped at the less visible, upper echelons of each society. Robert Reich,
among others, shows how the global classes that are most aware of their
connection to each other tend to be concentrated among the profession-
als in society, especially among those active in financial sectors, computer
programming, and other types of “symbolic analysis.” According to him,

these classes tend therefore to be most secluded from and least attentive
to downtrodden classes that may be living just a neighborhood away
from them. They tend to seek to insulate themselves as much as possible,
even at the level of charity, from those who are geographically close but
distant in economics and skills, while they cultivate their connections,
marketabilities, common interests, and income potentials among their
peers at the global level.
This picture gives us an image of a national household that is con-
tained only by geography, when geography is less of a prison for the in-
terests than it has ever been. This of course remains more true for some
classes than others, and it is a late-coming perspective to those who have
not been at the forefront of the effort to further the logic of globaliza-
tion, namely, indigenous industrial working classes. Only now do we find
a nascent realization among labor organizers in various countries that the
enhanced global capacities of capital require the enhancement of the
coordinated global capacities of labor. But just as is the case within indi-
vidual countries, this type of interest-oriented solidarity faces competi-
tion at the global level from frames of solidarity oriented toward aspects
of life other than those of material interests.
3. Global causes. The idea of “interests” as a basis for solidarity can be
generalized, whereby in some sectors it comes to be captured in terms
of interests that are indeed identified as “material” yet that are shared
beyond various kinds of lines, including class lines. Adherents of these
types of solidarity assert that there are global causes precisely because
large sectors of humanity have shared interests, interests that can be
articulated in broader terms than economic interest to the self and
beyond national borders. Movements that exhibit such an outlook
include variants of environmentalism, pacifism, feminism, and so on.
In spite of the variety of causes, such movements generally follow a dif-
ferent line of emphasis than either spiritual movements, which concen-
trate on combating conditions of vagueness in the culture, or move-
ments based on class affinities, which narrow down the definition of
interests to those defined by class locations. By contrast, movements
oriented toward global causes in any genre tend to articulate interests
on the basis of passions for causes that are seen to be fundamentally
human and irreducibly global. These causes emanate from orientations
toward a broad definition of the social range of their causes, and fur-
thermore, they rely on a belief in the imperative of voluntary action on

a global scale.
4. Life-emancipatory movements. In addition, global life further un-
leashes the potentials of those movements oriented toward propensities
of liberation or expression that are restricted within each society on its
own. More precisely, these would be the movements oriented toward in-
dividual freedom to pursue particular lifestyles that contradict or are at
odds with mainstream cultural patterns in every society. Examples of
these movements would be those oriented toward gay liberation, the
emancipation of sexual practices, youth movements, those oriented to-
ward fetishes of all kinds, those clustered around musical styles, and so
on. In many ways such movements derive energy from their status as
statements against normal patterns of behavior. Indeed, their very possi-
bility within each society requires some of the sociological features that
globalization only accentuates, namely, they have to thank for their pos-
sibility environments characterized by anonymity or autonomy. Such
environments throve in the context of cosmopolitan urbanity, which in
turn is experienced here as an antidote to the relative immutability of
lifestyles fostered by the parochialism of town life. Globalization only
deepens and furthers the possibilities hinted at in the possibilities offered
by cosmopolitan urbanity, offering a wider net of world association and
cross-learning regarding the question of how to conduct one’s life, inso-
far as that conduct requires the supply of globally derived energies.
This summary of the main cultural and political features of the global
era shows us a scene of enormous dislocations, which can be experienced
either as possibilities or as new nightmares. My argument, of course, is
neither that globalization will be an ineluctable panacea nor that it will
ruin what is good about received habits and traditions. Alongside every
great transformation the world offers both novel dangers and new op-
portunities to remake it. There is never a guarantee, other than broad
knowledge informed by an integrated rational perspective and coupled
with the possibility of action in the world, that the dangers will be averted
or that the opportunities will be acted upon. As I argued elsewhere
in this volume, the most dramatic possibility and the most pressing
task concern the reduction of the weight of governmentality upon so-
cieties and the cultivation of the possibilities of freedom in the world; in
sum, the great task now is to clip the wings of those large systems that
can no longer be expected to act according to the precepts of integrative

rationality.
The task, therefore, is first and foremost to develop the perspectives
and knowledge bases that make it possible for us to use these possibili-
ties of freedom, and to counter the danger of particularly those irration-
alities that are armed to the teeth. There is no longer a point in impo-
tently lamenting, as many do, the passing of customary securities or in
doggedly adhering to old habits of seeing the world. Life in the global
era requires a particular kind of action: integrally informed rather than
fragmented, intelligent and effective in its application, and daring in its
proclivity toward what is original rather than what is presupplied. Of
course, globalization can proceed otherwise and produce new night-
mares of totalitarianism, monoliths, global conformities, sedate sensa-
tions, or global Disneylands. But then that would be only because we
will have refused to acknowledge and act upon the possibilities it once
offered and instead continued to seek to save an old world that could not
be saved.
Notes
Preface
1. Bamyeh, “Transnationalism.”
1. Governmentality and the New Global “Order”

1. Roland Robertson traces this congruity back to the logic of the Enlighten-
ment; see in particular 78.
2. Sassen, “The State and the Global City,” 33–35. See also her Globaliza-
tion and Its Discontents.
3. Marx, 2: 477.
4. See Rosenberg, 142–58.
5. Some may be inclined to contest this point on the ground that when no
uniform and strategic logic is apparent, it must be sought in hidden intentionali-
ties. However, the presence or lack of a hidden logic must be adjudicated not on
the basis of metaphysical faith in the existence of what we cannot see but, rather,
on our ability to discover a solidly connective logic among various spheres of life,
which advise the behavior of political actors in regular and strategic fashion.
And it is precisely this connectivity that contemporary globalization has done
away with. This point will be explored further in chapter 2.
6. See Hoffmann.
7. For some of the more systematic critiques, see Falk; Rosenberg.
8. Foucault, “Governmentality,” 89–90.
9. Gordon, 9.
10. Ardener, 22.
11. In contrast to this relational constraint on governance, the arenas of mar-
kets and cultures point to more fluid concepts of social life. It is not as though
these latter fields do not have their own rules as well but, rather, that their rules
are less likely to be confined by formal character, particular national borders, or
such notions as exclusive “sovereignty.”
12. Anderson, 36.
159
160 Notes to Chapter 1
13. See, for instance, Hobsbawm and Ranger, eds.; Mosse; and Eugene
Weber, Peasants into Frenchmen, among many others.
14. For a description of the ideational systems involved, see Bloch, 2: 375–420.
15. Reynolds, 250–339.
16. The former Soviet Union had at least formally recognized such a multi-
plicity (including a theoretical right of secession) but practically annulled it by
central planning.
17. See Lall, 6–7. It can also be argued that orthodoxy can be considered a
symptom of decline rather than a cause. Either way, the argument remains the
same: State decline in this case is correlated with its abrogation of the kind of
openness to congregational multiplicity that had defined it earlier.
18. Aquinas, 322.
19. In recent times, and without any benefit of historical knowledge, ideas of
non-state-centered systems of governance seem to be gaining new ground. For a
brief summary, see Sassen, “The State and the Global City,” 33.
20. Aristotle, Risalat Aristotalis ila al-Iskander fi Siyasat al-Mudun, 46.
21. Chikafusa, 57–58.
22. Aristotle, Politics, lix. The editor, Ernest Barker, extrapolates this point
from Aristotle’s lost treatise On Colonies. The roots of the distinction are evident
in the Politics itself, as well as in Risalat Aristotalis.
23. The term “enclave” was coined by Michael Brown, who defined it in
terms of development and underdevelopment; see Brown.
24. See Olwig, esp. 159–208. The same can be said about all parochial cul-
tures once their isolation is broken and once they become invariably other en-
claves in a global system. Stephen Hugh-Jones argues, for instance, that the de-
gree of voluntarism that occasioned the exposure of native tribes in Amazonia to
a cash economy, technological trinkets, imported clothing, and so on shows that
after exposure it makes little sense to speak of native culture and global culture as
essentially countermodels. To argue the essentiality of nativism after contact—
and especially in light of the voluntary aspects of the contact—is in a sense to
deny local populations agency in making their own history; see Hugh-Jones,
69–70.
25. Hobsbawm, 131–62. The attempt continues to be made in the Balkans
today, where it is cynically opposed by the same powers who had done their own
share of ethnic cleansing and who had never bothered to rectify the material and
spiritual damage that they themselves had inflicted upon others in the process.
26. The most important recent works remain Hobsbawm; Gellner; Anderson;
and Tilly, Coercion, Capital, and European State, A.D. 990–1990 and The Forma-
tion of National States in Western Europe; among many others.
27. Hobsbawm, 136.
28. Cabral, 147. Emphasis added.
29. Ibid., 151.
Notes to Chapter 1 161
30. For a summary of the many criticisms, see Latouche.

31. Schmitt.
32. Kojève.
33. Maurer, 151–52.
34. Hegel, The Phenomenology of Spirit, 119.
35. Honneth, 148–211. Honneth bases this model partially on George
Herbert Mead’s symbolic interactionism.
36. The case of the Americas may be exceptional in this regard, since in
many respects the very novelty of the New World (and its growing accommoda-
tion of outcasts) itself invited future orientation and a conscious distance from
the organizational paradigms of the Old World.
37. See al-Jabarti, 22–23.
38. Ibid., 36.
39. In this respect, al-Jabarti’s chronicle recognizes the structural inter-
changeability of faith and politics, since faith came to the fore again after the de-
feat of Egypt’s rulers by Napoleon: When governments collapsed or when cen-
ters of political authority became uncertain, the only source of control that
continued to operate emanated from the moral authority of the religious elite.
40. In fact, the first French proclamation in Egypt began by justifying the ex-
pedition on the basis of the old regime’s cavalier disrespect for the sanctity of
merchants’ private property. Here Napoleon justified his invasion on the basis of
the collapse of juridical certainty in Egypt. Yet al-Jabarti’s chronicle dwells at
length on the occupation regime’s inconsistencies on this same question and its
frequent disregard for the sanctity of private properties in general.
41. Emmanuel.
42. Thus it is not coincidental that smaller territories, enclaves, and islands
were in general given up much later, if at all, than larger dominions.
43. A number of recent, influential publications show this attentiveness very
clearly. See, for instance, Paul Kennedy’s, Preparing for the Twenty-First Century,
Lester Thurow’s Head to Head: The Coming Economic Battle among Japan,
Europe, and America, Samuel Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the
Remaking of World Order. The theses presented in such works are not difficult to
challenge, since nearly all of them are premised on presumptions of stagnant
cultural and sociopolitical forms. They are significant, however, in at least two
respects: (1) They invariably take their analytical units to be larger than nation-
states (for example, trading blocs or global cultural patterns). (2) They seem to
be influential among policy-making circles; in other words, they seem to have
the ears of governance.
44. See Barber.
45. See, for instance, Tilly, Coercion, Capital, and European State and Formation
of National States; Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers; Hart; and
Schumpeter.
46. See esp. Snyder, 305–22.

47. Braudel, Civilization and Capitalism, 15th–18th Century.
48. Abu-Lughod, 362.
49. See Bovill, 145. For a full account of European state-sponsored expedi-
tions of discovery into that region, see 187–219.
50. For histories, see Glamann; Chaudhury.
51. Steinberg, 90.
52. The first volume of Cities of Salt concentrates on such dynamics.
53. See Zubaida, 121–82.
54. Many nineteenth-century travelogues of trips to Europe, from Rifa‘ah
Rafi‘ Tahtawi’s to Hsieh Fuching’s, clearly show their authors becoming increas-
ingly aware of the necessity of transformation in their own societies; at the same
time they ponder how such a transformation could take place without upsetting
ancient mores and norms.
55. See Kapteijns, 117–46. Compare this small tale to another of epic pro-
portions, as rendered by Tzvetan Todorov in his Conquest of America.
56. Albeit with much international assistance, especially in Congo’s case.
57. Comte, 197.
58. Ibid., 317–18.
59. Schäffle, 2: 442.
60. Comte, 306.
61. See esp. book 1, chs. 13–14. The reference to Zeus is in Risalat Aristotalis.
62. Mothe La Vayer, cited in Foucault, “Governmentality,” 91. Emphasis
added.
63. Cited in Yu-lan, 1: 313.
64. Tai, 97–145.
65. Foucault, “Governmentality,” 98–100.
66. See Durkheim, 50–59.
67. In his recent Seeing Like a State, James Scott uses the term “legibility” to
describe the various schemes employed by states in contemporary times to cata-
logue and make decisions regarding subject populations who would otherwise
remain unknown to it.
68. Elias argues that various terms for a collective ethical control imposed on
the individual, such as Freud’s “super-ego” and Hegel’s “spirit,” are but different
descriptions of the same phenomenon.
69. For a similar analysis cast in Freudian terms, see Kaye, esp. 99.
70. For an extended discussion, see Bamyeh, “The City and the Country:
Notes on Belonging and Self-Sufficiency.”
71. Hegel repeatedly noted in his time the everyday nature of abstraction,
a process which for him was inseparable from the impossibility of unmedi-
ated uniqueness; see Hegel, Enzyklopädie der philosophischen Wissenschaften im
Grundrisse, para. 479, p. 350.
72. The basic elements for this thesis can be found in ibid., para. 132, p. 121,
and para. 506, p. 361.
73. While Hegel spells this out in terms of conceptual definitions rather than
uniqueness, the point can be easily deduced from that digression. See esp. ibid.,
para. 472, pp. 345–46.
74. For an extended discussion of this theme, see Min, 39–61, esp. 47, 51.
75. For a discussion of the long-term ramifications for collective identity re-
sulting from the Verlagssystem, see Bamyeh, “The City and the Country.” The
point is not to explain the nation-state exclusively in terms of the putting-out
system but to suggest one of the bases for what it imagines to be its tasks. It is
no accident that the notion of “national economy,” as an expression of this en-
larged conception of the domain of self-sufficiency, was one of the most popular
currents of early economic thought in the nineteenth century.
76. See Schumpeter.
77. For Nietzsche, the Social Contract had always been a sentimental myth.
He makes clear that by “state” he means “some pack of blond beasts of prey
(Raubtiere), a conquerer and master race which, organized for war and with the
ability to organize, unhesitatingly lays its terrible claws upon a populace perhaps
tremendously superior in numbers but still formless and nomad. . . . he who is
violent in act and bearing—what has he to do with contracts!” See Nietzsche,
Second Essay, sec. 17.
78. For an excellent and still unsurpassed review, see Coker. The idea itself
is much older than the nineteenth century. In the Muqaddimah, Ibn Khaldun
(d. 1406) had already noted that civilizations (not states per se) display a process
of maturation and decay following the model of human growth (not static physio-
logical condition). The Neoplatonic political philosophy of al-Farabi (d. 950)
was far more metaphysical than that of Ibn Khaldun, but the organismic model
was nonetheless an important feature of it.
79. Lilienfeld, 1: 64–68.
80. Ibid., 186–87.
81. Needless to say, the orientations toward efficiency, morality, and power
(as the attributes of enclaves, realms, and empires, respectively) are not mutually
exclusive. The point concerns rather the detrimental nature for each type of
polity of emphasis on the dimension most essential for its survival.
82. Moore, 414.
83. Ibn Battuta, who hardly sympathized with the Mongols, nonetheless
made that point and faulted those rulers who eventually lost to the Mongols for
having more or less invited the invasion by their harassment of long-distance
merchants. See Ibn Battuta, 3: 23–24.
84. Hegel, Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts, 7: 345–47.
85. The dimension of power was not absent from the calculations and self-
understanding of realm and enclave. But the point is that the outward orientation
of empire dictates more attention to questions of relational power than to other

dimensions along which governance may think of itself.
86. See, for instance, Canetti or Arendt.
87. For a historical overview of the emergence of this form of consciousness,
see Khalidi. The history of this identity shows that it developed to a great extent
in reaction to external threat. The other side of this equation, prefigured in
Zionist ideology, is clearly part of the general history of nationalism; Zionist
ideology was also the product of a reaction to European anti-Semitism in an
age of national discourse. But for geopolitical reasons it was also bolstered by
European imperialism.
88. Hobsbawm, 46–79.
89. See Pflanze, 99.
90. See Marshall.
91. See Streeck. Streeck, however, does not address the question of
totalitarianism.
92. Habermas, “The New Obscurity: The Crisis of the Welfare State and the
Exhaustion of Utopian Energies,” 1–18, esp. 10.
93. Habermas, Strukturwandel der Öffentlichkeit, 74.
94. Eisenstadt, 243.
95. Cowgill, 244–76. Cowgill mentions a third trouble, namely, the question
of the accountability of and trust in officeholders. The outline of this problem,
however, is less clear than that of the other two.
96. Abu-Lughod, 367.
97. See Havell, xi–xii.
98. Though showing distinct patterns of local self-reference, the classic socio-
logical study by Arthur Vidich, Small Town in Mass Society was one of the first
to debunk the myth that small towns are insulated from mass culture and to
show their intricate dependence on links to the national economy and federal
programs.
2. The New Imperialism

1. Foucault, “Governmentality,” 92.
2. See Hirschman.
3. See, for example, Kant’s arguments in Perpetual Peace, which offer an im-
portant version of this line of thought stressing the role of economy and trade in
taming the rapacious nature of unanchored political life.
4. This point would follow Braudel’s important yet frequently overlooked
distinction between “capitalism” and “market economy.” For Braudel market
economy is an ancient form characterized by a vast multitude of participants
whose conditions do not allow them to experience the prospect of exceptionally
vast accumulation. Capitalism, by contrast, is the economy of the few great preda-
tors at the top level of the market economy. It becomes a proper name for the sys-
tem as a whole only when the actions of such predators begin to shape the market
everywhere. See Braudel, Afterthoughts on Material Civilization and Capitalism.
5. For a summary of this line of thought, see Moore, 111–55.
6. In 1775, for example, the value of exports from the small colonial posses-
sions in the Caribbean to the colonial mother countries was several times the
value of exports from all of the Americas. In real terms their value must have
been even more, since the cost of control was much lower on the islands than it
was on the continent, as subsequent events were to prove.
7. The case of the large Portuguese colonies in Africa, which were not sur-
rendered until the 1970s, may seem to contradict this genealogy. But it must be
kept in mind that such colonies had long ceased to be particularly remunerative
to the political order in the mother country. In fact, in Portugal holding on to
them was a significant factor in dragging the old regime under.
8. Charles Lipson notes that the emergence of capital markets since the
nineteenth century has been most pronounced in countries that had asserted
themselves as international powers. Eventually the dynamics of a significantly
enlarged capital market forces these governments to also assume responsibility
for large-scale financial failures, a point amply demonstrated in recent history.
On this score, however, Lipson seems to contradict his own conclusion, by argu-
ing for the continuity of the basic principles of private responsibility for com-
mercial debt, when his observations show clearly that no internationally asser-
tive governments can fail to assume responsibility for the failures of large capital
markets—especially since those capital markets had been one of the important
sources of the comparative global power of states; see Lipson. For a discussion of
the structure of the historical cycles of debt, see also Suter.
9. In the traditional theory of imperialism as advanced by Lenin, the foun-
dations of imperialism were located in the dynamics of capitalism. Such a theory
precluded the possibility of a “Soviet imperialism,” a less theoretically grounded
term that was proposed later. But even if we accept the American and the Soviet
as equivalent imperialisms, it must be kept in mind that the basis of their claims
to legitimacy consisted of opposing economic ideologies, each of which under-
stood itself as being global in potential.
10. See, for example, the critiques of Latouche and of Sahlins, among many
others.
11. Until recently macroeconomic measures correlated, if not with actual
feelings of well-being or lack thereof, then at least with future orientations,
which were based on a vision that linked together macro and micro levels of ex-
istence in society. And that link, in turn, was supported in the era of “modern-
ization” by a forward-looking conception underlining the emergence of large,
commonly governed communities.
12. For an elaboration of this argument, see Abu-Lughod, 362.
13. For some details of this incident, see Bovill, 145.
14. For an exposition of the emergence of one such route in west Asia under
conditions of minimal—and occasionally total lack of—political control, see my
Social Origins of Islam, ch. 2. For a more general argument along these lines, see
my “The City and the Country.”
15. See Sassen, “The State and the Global City,” 33–35.
16. The World Investment Report makes two observations that seem to bol-
ster this view: (1) Financial capital is more important in developed than in de-
veloping countries; and (2) transnational corporations offer their affiliates the
advantage of privileged access to internally (that is, globally, albeit internal to the
corporation) generated financial capital; see 140–48.
17. In the United States the product of such financial capital activities as fi-
nance, real estate, and insurance finally surpassed that of manufacturing in 1991,
concluding the uninterrupted ascendance of financial capital in the economy.
One of the advantages of financial capital in an advanced capitalist society con-
sists of its higher productivity per worker, which is nearly three times that of the
productivity of a worker in manufacturing. See U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.
18. Braudel, Civilization and Capitalism, 2:318.
19. Of course, there is no real devolution of power here, as the federal gov-
ernment did not even bring up the logical correlate to any true devolution:
namely, that the federal center would have to forfeit as much in taxes as would
have to be paid directly to states or even to local governments (that is, to whom-
ever the power has been “devolved” onto), so that they could actually undertake
their novel responsibilities. There have been those with sufficient foresight to
protest this farce, decrying it as “unfunded mandates.” Yet even in this case, there
has been a curious paucity of voices protesting the farce by actually calling for a
real transfer of power, with all the financial and tax consequences that such a no-
tion would entail.
20. See Sassen, Losing Control? Sovereignty in an Age of Globalization, 1–30,
who goes as far as referring to the proliferating arbitration centers as a new global
system of justice and to the global bond-rating agencies as a new global system
of gatekeeping. See also Cutler, Haufler, and Porter, eds. On the role of the city
in the global economy, see Sassen, The Global City: New York, London, Tokyo, and
King among many others. It is perhaps symptomatic of the trend toward net-
works formed by sites other than nation-states that the literature on the “city in
the global economy” is already rapidly burgeoning.
21. The index of transnationality, which is one of the measurements used to
rate a corporation’s foreign involvement (assets, sales, employment) compared to
that in its home base, shows that the variables that have the most impact on the
degree of corporate transnationality are the type of industry and the relative size of
the domestic market rather than any specific local policies; see World Investment
Report.
22. Altvater calls these “clubby communities”; see esp. 59.
23. Hegel, Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts, sec. 278, 315–16. For a
more elaborate discussion, see Min, esp. 47, 51.
24. The debate concerning what to do with the expected budget surplus in
the United States seems to confirm this point. The parameters of the main-
stream debate make it clear that the surplus will not be spent on enhancing social
citizenship. Rather, the most widely circulating ideas suggest that it should be
spent on cutting taxes, enhancing military capabilities (thus the power of the
new imperialism), paying off old debts, or propping up those social systems—
such as social security—that are viewed as indispensable (although even in this
area there is much talk about privatizing the whole social security system—i.e.,
finally removing government from responsibility for providing one of the last
vestiges of social citizenship).
25. See Guéhenno, 19–34.
26. The sociological debate regarding this point has centered on whether the
state represents a class or an elite, on the one hand, or whether it is pluralistic, in
the sense that it is open to the representation of a variety of interests, on the
other. I am not presuming here that the state has a “nature” along one of these
lines. Rather, I tend to think that it is a question of the resources available to the
state. Pluralism can indeed be a passing or recurrent phenomenon, depending to
an important extent on whether the state has in the first place sufficient resources
allowing it to exhibit this luxurious and shiny mantle.
27. For a vociferous articulation of this view, see Zakaria.
28. A reviewer of an earlier draft of this essay complained that these were the
“only” examples, aside from the Gulf War adversaries, that I provide of the targets
of this imperialism. But it is hard to overestimate the resort to such unfettered cate-
gories, not to mention that we are talking about vast “types” represented in whole
nations and even, as we see in the case of Samuel Huntington, entire civilizations!
29. The support by archconservative forces for the Contras in Nicaragua
in the 1980s is arguably not entirely part of the logic of the old imperialism, as
the Sandanistas themselves were willing to make sufficient accommodation to
capital given the chance, a stance that was not lost on important sectors of the
world’s financial community. Their opinion, however, was disregarded by the
Reagan administration.
30. In a study of the curriculum vitae of 502 high-ranking government offi-
cials between 1945 and 1972, Laurence H. Shoup and William Minter found
that more than half had also been members of the Council on Foreign Relations;
see Grose, 48–49.
31. See Lovelace, whose analysis is conducted within the parameters of the
Joint Chiefs of Staff ’s Joint Vision 2010. Some proposals in that manual, such as
expanding the role of the military into such domestic areas as disaster relief and
combating terrorism, were announced by the U.S. secretary of defense on
October 10, 1999.
32. On the embeddedness of symbolic politics in the dynamics of globaliza-

tion, see Streeck.
33. There are those, like a reviewer of an earlier draft of this essay, who will
complain that I am ignoring some “hidden rationalities.” It seems to me, how-
ever, that it is only sheer faith in the system’s intelligence that can support this
kind of assumption that there is an integrative rationality hiding so deep from
view that only exceptional sagacity can discover it. Assuming the existence of
light when the evidence points only to darkness is an exercise of faith. And, simi-
larly, there is little point in refuting arguments that the earth is flat when the
burden of proof has shifted to those who assert the notion. My point is not that
the system has absolutely no plan, only that it has no integrative rationality that
would impose strategic and multidimensional coherence on the plan. All evi-
dence points to this, and the point is freely acknowledged even by system apolo-
gists, such as Fareed Zakaria and Ira Cohen, among others.
34. Hobsbawm, 177.
35. In his review of Barber’s book, Mark Juergensmeyer rightly argues that
movements classified as “jihads”—Khomeini’s included—can be seen as more
opposed to Western imperialism than to transnationalism as such; see 588–89.
36. For an eloquent portrayal of both the actual distance of the Saudi royal
house from traditional mores of governance that had predated it and the inscrip-
tion of the regime’s very introduction in the dialectics of old imperialism, read
Munif ’s magisterial Cities of Salt.
37. Thus it is no accident that in Europe the country that remains closest to
U.S. global policies is Britain, which also happens to be the one force within the
camp of the old imperialism that has resisted the most consequential facets of
European integration.
38. There are exceptions, of course, but only when the stakes are just too
high, such as in the case of the large loans extended to Russia to ensure the re-
election of Boris Yeltsin. But even in that case, it was made clear to all protago-
nists that in the long run there would be no deviation from the uniform global
blueprint and that Russia will have to play the same game, as it is being prodded
to do now, under the pain of no more forthcoming loans.
39. The editors of Foreign Affairs, where Huntington’s thesis was first pub-
lished, themselves compared Huntington’s potential legacy to the actual legacy
of George Kennan (whose thesis was also first published in that journal).
40. For an excellent overview and contextual analysis, see Michael.
41. Huntington, 304–8.
42. Machiavelli, 61.
3. The Cultural Landscape of Globalization

1. The different uses of the term, which were already outlined in Kroeber
and Kluckhohn and in Williams, are of interest here only to the extent that they
reflect on the expansive properties of habits, identities, belief systems, lifestyles,

or the like.
2. Foucault, “The Discourse on Language,” 216.
3. Max Weber, Economy and Society, 1: 342.
4. McNeill, esp. 34–35.
5. Fabian, 144.
6. For an interesting discussion of the transformation of the imagines mondi,
see Justin Stagl’s analysis of selected pictographs from European travel narratives
in the 1600s and 1700s. Stagl traces a move from an episteme of the “closed cos-
mos” to one of undefined space; see 155–70.
7. See Kalb, 166–67.
8. Habermas, The Theory of Communicative Action, 1: 55.
9. Kant, Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysics of Morals, 5–6.
10. Mill, 24–25.
11. A symptom of that shift was the devaluation of the lifestyle of the noble
but idle aristocracy in light of a new cultural ethos, advanced by the ascending
bourgeoisie, regarding the economic use of time.
12. For a few examples, see Jameson; Lash; Derrida.
13. See my “Frames of Belonging.”
14. For a rich range of discussions regarding the capacities and limits of cos-
mopolitanism, see the recent volume on the subject edited by Cheah and Robbins.
15. Dunn, 11.
16. In Nations before Nationalism John Armstrong proposes a premodern
model of collective identity that seems particularly pertinent to the European
city-states. The model highlights the inverse relation between the strength of
civic consciousness on the one hand and the magnitude of territorial expansion
of the city into the countryside on the other.
17. Abu-Lughod, 33.
18. The investment in the fabled Roman roads can be seen as symptomatic
of this emphasis on reliable transportation as a raison d’être of the empire.
19. Ibn Battuta, 3: 23–24.
20. Armstrong argues that before nationalism, civic consciousness and terri-
torial expansion of European city-states were inversely related; see 108–29.
21. Goodin, 13.
22. Ibid.
23. Anderson, 40.
24. The most succinct rendition of this position in recent scholarship is per-
haps Giddens.
25. Geertz.
26. Pandey.
27. Todorov, 53–123.
28. There are obviously many structural limitations to the exercise of such
democracy. But in relative terms, the much higher degrees of participation and
political freedom are undeniable.
29. This fact seems more discernible to researchers closer to the area of
Islamic studies than to global political commentators lacking specialized knowl-
edge. For a good example of the former, see Mirsepassi.
30. Saitoti, 110.
31. Ibid., 128.
32. Ibid., 129.
33. See Chase-Dunn.
34. See Dahl and Megerssa. Ferguson makes a similar point regarding a de-
velopment project in Lesotho, which only succeeded in augmenting the power
of the government and its bureaucracy over rural populations.
35. Abu-Lughod, 15–18.
36. That novelty was by no means unappreciated. Montesquieu, for example,
asserted that apart from its usefulness for global trade, new means of exchange
enhanced the autonomy of the markets from politics and thus curtailed the
specter of despotism in the world: “Foreign exchange operations (le change) have
taught bankers to compare coins from all over the world and to assess them at
their correct value. . . . These operations have done away with the great and sud-
den arbitrary actions of sovereigns (les grands coups d’autorité) or at least with
their success”; cited in Hirschman, 74.
37. Gailey, 194–211.
38. Ibid., 218, 241. A frequent problem in the history of development was
that “traditional” societies—for lack of a better term—usually set aside some re-
sources outside of market exchange and refused to treat them as commodities. In
the case mentioned in the text, the resource in question was food. In Ferguson’s
study of development in Lesotho, it was more specifically cattle, which, to the
chagrin of development agencies, peasants were very reluctant to handle as an-
other market item.
39. Mas‘udi, 2: 96–97.
40. Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, 58–60.
41. Chayanov.
42. Chatterjee, 117–25.
43. Cited in ibid., 138. Nehru adds, “But the West is obviously in need of
learning much” from the East, although the spirit of the latter addition is far less
committal and urgent than that of the first.
44. Polanyi, 46–47.
45. Ibid., 47–54.
46. Braudel, Afterthoughts, 226–28.
47. Mauss, 32–33.
48. Hyde, 61–68.
49. See in particular Hyde’s story concerning the inability of a poor family in
a U.S. inner city to use an inheritance for upward mobility because the family
felt obligated to use it to support a wide array of relatives and acquaintances;
ibid., 75–76.
50. Braudel, Afterthoughts, 64, 75. In Munif ’s novel Cities of Salt, the company
seems actually to invent the state. Yet even there the state had some roots in more-
ephemeral forms of traditional governance. These forms, in turn, became far less
ephemeral and more interventionist as the growth of the company dictated.
51. Braudel, Afterthoughts, 49–57. Braudel makes a useful distinction be-
tween “market economy” and “capitalism.” For him, capitalism is an appendage
to a more salient market economy. It denotes transactions taking place at the top
level of the market, namely, the economy of the large predators.
52. Ibid., 504.
53. Giddens, 16–21.
54. Ibid., 21.
55. Ibid., 215.
56. Bell, 118–19.
57. Ibid., 74–78.
58. The origins of the welfare state show a diversity of understandings of the
degree and meaning of citizenship. Stephan Leibfried, for instance, offers four
basic models (Scandinavian, German, Anglo-Saxon, and Southern European),
which he suggests may be converging in light of the current crisis; see 133–56.
59. National consolidation is another factor. The introduction of welfare in
Bismarck’s Germany and other European countries early in this century served
to further legitimize a contested national governance. Combined with the un-
leashing of patriotic spirits in World War I, it gave more credence to the idea of
national (especially as opposed to class) belonging.
60. Scardigli, 21.
61. Ibid., 23, 105, 115–16.
62. The example of the unification of East and West Germany may illustrate
this point, especially given that the two societies were exhibiting different pat-
terns of life and cultural outlook—as they discovered in the process of uniting—
and were by and large coming to accept each other’s independence just shortly
before unification. But the unity here was premised on a conscious policy of
bringing the East to the economic level of the West, rather than treating it as a
colony—a practice that we see elsewhere in the world and that impedes the pos-
sibilities of convergence.
63. For example, Malik Mufti argues that in the 1950s there was a basic dis-
agreement between Britain and the United States regarding the proper threat
facing Western interests in the Middle East. Whereas Britain insisted that it was
Arab nationalism, U.S. policymakers usually dismissed the significance of na-
tionalism, and insisted that communism should be regarded as the main threat.
64. Chase-Dunn and Hall, eds., 6.
65. See Jordan Lewis, Partnerships for Profit.

66. For instance, see Lowenthal, 75.
67. Ibn Battuta, 2:265–66.
68. Ibid., 401.
69. For a discussion of the sources, see Bovill.
70. Fuching, 43–44, 65–66.
71. Spence.
72. Said, 81–88.
73. Stagl, 47–94.
74. It may be objected that comparative civilizational projects, such as Hunt-
ington’s, or policy-oriented manuals illustrate a continuing investment in cata-
loguing total cultural systems in relation to each other. But it must be kept in
mind that such manuals usually lack the detailed anthropological fullness of ac-
count and are possible only at the price of consciously ignoring a wide range of
readily available information.
75. Mattelart, Delcourt, and Mattelart, 10–11.
76. Deutsch, 30.
77. Gellner, 126–27.
78. For example, see Hacker.
79. Mattelart, Delcourt, and Mattelart, 77.
80. Deutsch, 126.
81. Cited in Mattelart, Delcourt, and Mattelart, 67.
82. A good overview of the future of European film in this light is Halle.
83. The roots of this desire can be tied to the observed significant role that
media played in the creation of new national identities in the postcolonial world.
That role was prefigured in nineteenth-century patterns of consolidation of
common educational systems in European nation-states. Karl Heider’s study of
the Indonesian film industry, for example, sketches the historical role played by
that rather vibrant industry in giving form over the years to a sense of common-
ality among the inhabitants of a vast archipelago. It contributed to further stan-
dardizing the Indonesian language, and it employed discernible cultural symbols
unique to Indonesia as a whole and common to its diverse inhabitants.
84. Lowe and Kamin, 14.
85. Ibid., 32. The unquestioned assumption here is that there is a demand for
the portrayal of customary ordinariness. More clearly asserted is another as-
sumption: that commercial control over local mass media will not in itself guar-
antee the production of “locally relevant” programming, even when it is in the
interest of commercial media to reach a mass audience.
86. For an exploration of the connection between the economics of copro-
ductions and shifts in types of genres, see Halle.
87. The trend in Thailand is toward more imports. Japan, which until very
recently watched more local than imported films, finally succumbed to imports.
Notes to Conclusion 173
The other large country where this was the case until recently, Russia, is follow-
ing suit.
88. Mattelart, Delcourt, and Mattelart, 102.
89. “Americanization,” in fact, may have been possible precisely because of
“America’s” own distance from various localisms, so that any imperial threat the
United States may pose anywhere can be seen apart from cultural threats. Arjun
Appadurai reminds us that “for the people of Irian Jaya, Indonesianization may
be more worrisome than Americanization, as Japanization may be for Koreans,
Indianization for Sri Lankans, Vietnamization for the Cambodians, and Rus-
sianization for the people of Soviet Armenia and the Baltic republics. . . . for
polities of smaller scale, there is always a fear of cultural absorption by polities of
larger scale, especially those that are nearby”; Appadurai, 32.
90. This argument is fully explored in Layoun, which traces the globalization
of the novel as a genre.
91. Mattelart, Delcourt, and Mattelart, 91. Emphasis added.
92. For a more elaborate set of studies of the multicultural aspects of the
media, see Shohat and Stam, eds.
93. See Justin Lewis, The Ideological Octopus, 159–202.
94. Cited in Mattelart, Delcourt, and Mattelart, 29.
95. The latest data available for book production are from 1994, but no data
are yet available for translation beyond 1987. Trends from previous years, how-
ever, are more or less consistent with the patterns shown here.
96. There is no Third World news agency that has more than a regional
reach at best. If anything, most Third World inhabitants rely in one form or an-
other on a significant input of international news—even about neighboring
countries—from Western media sources. Johan Galtung once proposed a theory
of information imperialism couched in terms of a world system characterized by
the duality of a center and a periphery. According to Galtung, four basic patterns
characterize information imperialism, especially as far as “information” refers to
news flow: (1) News about the center tends to be dominant; (2) there is a great
discrepancy in the ratio of center news to periphery news as compared to the
ratio of center news to another center country’s news; (3) news about the center
is more present in the media of the periphery than the other way around; (4)
there is a relatively low or nonexistent flow of news between peripheral countries
(i.e., news not provided by the center), especially across regional borders;
Galtung; see also Galtung and Vincent.
Conclusion
1. Such schemes as privatizing parts of the prison system in the United
States and calls to likewise privatize as many governmental functions and ser-
vices as is logical and feasible do not hark back to the logic of the chartered com-
pany. From the point of view of capital, these endeavors are desirable but not
174 Notes to Conclusion
necessary extensions of its domain, and capital’s survival does not depend on
such an extension. Rather, this type of extension into erstwhile governmental
arenas is more connected to capital’s general propensity to expand into every us-
able arena opened up by the withdrawal from it of a former custodian.
2. Furthermore, proponents of one solution or another frequently operate
outside of history, where this volume, on the other hand, has tried to embed it-
self. History is relevant here because everything is both new and old. We are cer-
tainly approaching global conditions that in so many ways have never before
been experienced. But in another respect, some features of these novelties have
historical parallels, and more importantly, the values that we use to assess these
novelties are themselves historically grounded, if not ancient; exploitation, totali-
tarianism, inequities, and democracies—all have existed before. The historical
record of the complexities, variations, and interactions of such experiments must
certainly be relevant here. The more obsessed with the future we are, the more
we ought to read history, and furthermore, to read it not as a set of quick instru-
mental instructions but at the deepest level of meditation possible.
3. Unfortunately, Anderson’s notion of “creole pioneers” remains the least-
discussed idea in his book.
4. For a recent set of more philosophically oriented discussions of the forms
of solidarity made possible by the advent of contemporary globalization, see
Cheah and Robbins, eds. Kant looms large in this volume, where most contribu-
tors seek to reclaim cosmopolitanism for our age. The only exceptions are
Benedict Anderson and Richard Rorty, who defend nationalism and contest the
viability of alternatives to it, and Kwame Anthony Appiah, who defends statism
in its current form.
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Index
Abbasids, 102–3 Armey, Richard, 78

‘Abdo, Muhammad, 110 Ashanti, 129
Abu-Lughod, Janet, 29, 57, 114, 126, Asia, 13, 101, 104, 128, 139–40
148 Atatürk, M. Kemal, 47, 109–10
Abyssinia, 103 Augustine, Saint, 14
Achebe, Chinua, 107–8 Aurangzeb, 11
Aden, 15 Australia, 141
Afaghani, Jalaludin, 110 Austria, 48, 141
Africa, 12, 46, 57, 135 Azerbaijan, 53
Albania, 53, 58 Aztecs, 107
Alexander, 14
Algeria, 54 Balkans, 19, 65, 153, 160 n. 25
Ali, Muhammad, 24–25, 32–33 Barber, Benjamin, 26, 80–81
Allende, Salvador, 74 Barlow, Roger, 93
Amazonia, 160 n. 24 Basque country, 53
Anarchy, xii, 5–6 Batavia, 30
Anatolia, 25 Bavaria, 53
Anderson, Benedict, 8, 105, 174 n. 4 Bedouins, 116
Angola, 34 Belgium, 53, 135, 142, 144
Anthropology: critique of, 95 Bell, Daniel, 122–24
Anti-Semitism, 105–6 Bengal, 30, 130
Appiah, Kwame Anthony, 174 n. 4 Berlin Conference, 25
Aquinas, Thomas, 12, 14 Biafra, 34
Arabia, 31, 103, 130 Bismarck, 48, 71
Arab world, 2–3, 138–39 Blair, Tony, 72
Ardener, E. W., 7 Bourgeoisie, 22, 32, 36, 59, 94, 117,
Arendt, Hannah, ix–x, 49 120–21
Argentina, 138–39 Braudel, Fernand, 1, 29, 93, 118–20,
Aristocracy, 59, 94, 120–21 164–65 n. 4
Aristotle, 12, 14, 36–37, 93, 150 Britain, 58, 124; film industry in, 137;
185
186 Index
historical relation with China, Chrysler, 126

128–29; imperialism of, 19, Citizenship: concept of, 50–52, 71,
60–61, 168 n. 37; in India, 107, 78, 123–24
118; rivalry with France, 24–25 City-states, 12, 101–2
Brunei, 15 “Civilization”: concept of, 10, 26, 39,
Bulgaria, 53 45, 54–58; hierarchical under-
Bush, George, 51 standing of, 129–31, 152; and soli-
Byzantine empire, 103 darity, 101–2, 107–8; theory of,
98–100
Cabral, Amilcar, 20–21 Civil society, x, 11, 27, 46, 49–50, 83,
Calvinism, 117 145; global, 87, 151
Canada, 135 Clausewitz, Karl von, 7
Canton, 130 Clifford, James, 95
Capitalism, 26; autonomy of, 63–64; Coen, Jan, 30
and coercion, 65–67; and culture, Cold War, 26–27, 49, 72, 74, 77,
79, 81, 96–97, 117, 140; disentan- 82–83
glement from imperialism, 63–64, Colonialism, 10, 14, 45, 66; and cul-
74–75; and governance, 29–31, 44, ture, 90, 96, 140; dynamics of,
60–62, 124, 165 n. 8; and hedo- 24–26, 43, 60–61; and economic
nism, 123; and the idea of inter- models, 117–18; and national
ests, 59; lateral organization of, emergence, 17, 19–20; and state
67–69; and market economy, formation, 30, 33, 115–16. See also
164–65 n. 4; as a process, 120; Imperialism
rationality of, 76, 109, 119; and Communism, 44, 70, 83
the state, 76–79, 85, 125; univer- Communitarianism, 123
sality of, 79, 81, 93, 114–16, 126; Comte, Auguste, 35–37
and welfare state, 52. See also Confucianism, 16, 131
Economy Confucius, 36–38
Cardoso, Fernando H., 72 Congo, 34, 65
Caribbean, 15, 165 n. 6 Congress Party, 117
Carthage, 9 Corporatism, 49
Central Intelligence Agency, 74 Corpus Mysticum, 41–42, 60, 148
Ceylon, 30 Cortés, Hernán, 33, 107
Chartered companies, 30, 44, 65, 148 Cosmopolitanism, 26, 80, 104; as en-
Chase-Dunn, Christopher, 113, 126 trepôt culture, 90; of merchant
Chayanov, Aleksandr, 117 class, 103
Chikafusa, 13 Council on Foreign Relations, 76
Chile, 74 Cowgill, George, 56
China, 101, 117; historical relations Crusades, 85, 104
with Europe, 128–31; nationalist Culture: and communication,
modernity in, 33 133–36; definitions, xiii, 89–90,
Christianity, 16, 102, 130–31 95; diffusion of, 91–92, 99–100,
Index 187
104, 160 n. 24; and imperialism, Eritrea, 4, 34

79–86; and market, 137–40; Ethiopia, 34, 113
transnational, 94–98, 103, 109, Eurocentrism, 16, 18–20, 26, 29, 44,
122–23, 127, 136–37,139–45; 48, 101, 134
vagueness in, 106–9, 111, 155. See Europe, 103, 111; city-state, 101–2;
also Media; Solidarity and discoveries, 93–94, 127–32;
Czechoslovakia, 4, 135 Eastern, 79; free movement, 105;
historical rivalries, 25, 28; integra-
Dahl, Gudrun, 113 tion of, 2, 81, 124–25; media, 137,
Darfur, 33 139–40; and modernity, 107–8,
Dar Sila, 33 110; modern state in, 32; nation-
Delcourt, Xavier, 135, 142 state, 17–18, 92; origin of the
Delors, Jacques, 27 state, 8; question of cultural uni-
Dependency theory, 112–13 formity, 83, 124–25; rebuilding,
Depression, the Great, 66, 147 74; subnational solidarity, 154;
Deutsch, Karl, 133–36 welfare state, 124
Development theory, 112 European Commission, 148
Dunn, Ross, 102 European Union, 5, 26, 79, 100–101,
Durkheim, Émile, 38, 91, 93, 97, 100, 120, 124, 139
106, 108 Existentialism, 100
East India company. See Chartered Fabian, Johannes, 92, 95

companies Fanon, Frantz, 23
Economy: characteristics of expansive, Fascism, 23, 44, 55
39–40; and control, 147–51, 170 n. Feminism, 87, 122, 156
36; and culture, 84, 89, 96–99, Ferdinand, prince of Aragon, 85
103–4, 113–18, 124–25; exclusion Feudalism, 32, 35, 37, 41, 98, 102, 120
from, 91; political form of, 59–62, Fichte, Johann, 41
125–26. See also Capitalism Fidnaa, 113–14
Egypt, 4, 24–25, 32–33, 102–3, 131; Flanders, 53, 79
film industry in, 138–41 Ford (corporation), 126
Eisenstadt, Shmuel N., 56 Foucault, Michel, 6, 28, 37–38, 59,
Elias, Norbert, 39, 55–56, 86, 98–99, 81, 91, 105
101 Foucquet, 130–31
Emmanuel, Arghiri, 25 France, 48, 75, 130–31; imperialism
Empires, 57–58. See also Governance; of, 24–25, 33; media in, 137,
Imperialism 139–41
Enclaves, 25, 27, 31, 61, 108, 161 n. Frank, Andre Gunder, 29
42, 165 n. 6. See also Governance Freud, Sigmund, 55–56, 74, 98
England, 60. See also Britain
Enlightenment, xii Gailey, Christine, 115
Environmentalism, 87, 156 Galbraith, John Kenneth, 119
188 Index
Galtung, Johan, 173 n. 96 of society, 37–38; as realm, 12–13,

Gandhi, 117 20, 26, 31–33, 37, 42–46, 57–58;
Gay liberation, 122, 157 as standard form, 3–4, 17, 28, 49;
Geertz, Clifford, 95, 107 totalitarianism of, 35–38, 49; as
Gellner, Ernest, 134 totality, 40, 44; as trustee of well-
General Motors, 70, 72, 126 being, 52, 123–24. See also State
George III, king, 128 Greece, 47, 53; ancient, 9, 12
Georgia, 53 Grenada, Spain, 85
Germany, 53, 71, 111, 134; media in, Gulf War (1991), 74
137, 141
Ghana, 4 Habermas, Jürgen, xii, 52, 55, 95
Giddens, Anthony, 121–22 Hall, Thomas, 126
Globalization: and control, 148–52; Hans, 16
critique of, 63, 85; cultural, Hegel, G. W. F., 21–23, 35, 37, 40,
139–45; cultural misconceptions 45, 55, 70, 98, 105
around, 80–86; definitions of, ix, Heilbroner, Robert, 96
xi–xii; economic, 118, 147–48; and Herodotus, 128
governance, 26, 57–58, 66–67, 77, Hirschman, Albert, 59
157–58; versus imperialism, 64; Hobsbawm, Eric, 18–19, 21, 48, 79
and interests, 70–73; as lateralism, Hoffmann, Stanley, 6
67–69; of modernity, 122; and na- Homer, 12
tionalism, 153; and rootlessness, Honda, 126
111; and solidarity, 154–57. See Hong Kong, 15–16, 139–40
also Capitalism; Culture; Honneth, Axel, 23–24
Governance; Imperialism; Hoxha, Enver, 58
Solidarity Hsieh Fuching, 128–29
Gold trade, 29, 65, 128 Hu, 130–31
Goodin, Robert, 105 Hugh-Jones, Stephen, 160 n. 24
Gordon, Colin, 6 Hume, David, 93–94, 98, 100
Governance: and alliances, 27; com- Huntington, Samuel, 26–27, 82–85
petitive nature of, 26; constraints Hyde, Lewis, 22, 119
on, 159 n. 11; and culture, 95–96,
101–4, 109–10; and devolution of Ibn Battuta, 101–2, 104, 128, 130
power, 166 n. 19; diversity of, 9, Ibn Jubayr, 130
163 n. 81; economic model of, Ibn Khaldun, 102, 163 n. 78
30–31, 60–62; as embodiment of Imperialism, 17–20; and capital,
culture, 8–9, 11, 41–43, 45–47, 55; 66–67, 165 n. 9; and culture,
as empire, 13–14, 32, 43, 45, 79–86, 90, 107; and hierarchies,
163–64 n. 85; as enclave, 14–15, 67–69; historical varieties of,
31, 42, 44, 46; and freedom, 60–61; and information control,
157–58; global, 5, 66, 148–52; le- 145, 173 n. 96; and interests,
gitimacy of, 34, 52–58; as mirror 70–73; irrational, 76–79, 152, 168
Index 189
n. 33; and the principle of hege- Kurdistan, 53

mony, 73–76; as purely political, Kuwait, 16
63–64; rivalries within, 25, 28;
spiritual challenge to, 155 Lash, Scott, 68
India, 19, 25, 30, 32, 53, 58, 65, 103, Latin America, 57, 138–39
107, 117, 134; film industry in, Layoun, Mary, 141
139–40 Lê (dynasty), 38
Indonesia, 30, 113, 140, 172 n. 83 League of Nations, 17
Inquisition, 107 Lebanon, 138
Internationalism, 50, 54 Legros, Michèle, 142, 144
International Monetary Fund, 71, 82 Lenin, Vladimir Ilyich, 165 n. 9
International relations (field), 5–6, 28, Levant, 25
57 Lewis, Jordan, 126
Internet, 87 Liberia, 34
Iran, 4, 53, 110 Lilienfeld, Paul von, 42
Iraq, 53, 74–75 Lombardy, 53, 79
Islam, 24–25, 39, 104; early, 16, 103;
revivalism in, 110–11 Macedonia, 53
Israel, 153 Machiavelli, Niccolo, 6–7, 27, 36, 61,
Istanbul, 25 85, 102
Italy, 53, 137, 140 Maghreb, 53
Malacca, 15–16, 46
Jabarti, Abd al Rahman, Al-, 24–25 Malaysia, 54, 66, 113, 138
Japan, 13, 74, 126, 141; film industry Maldives, 102
in, 140; Meiji restoration in, 33; as Mamluks, 24
model, 113, 118 Marshall, T. H., 52, 71, 123–24
Java, 12, 30, 107 Marx, Karl, 5, 39, 61, 64, 76, 79, 93,
Jesuits, 130 96, 106, 112, 116, 125, 155
Jiaqing emperor, 128–29 Masailand, 111–12
Mas‘udi, 116
Kafka, Franz, 37, 51 Mattelart, Armand, 135, 142
Kant, Immanuel, 37, 39, 94–96, Mattelart, Michele, 135, 142
98–100, 144 Mauss, Marcel, 22, 119
Kashmir, 53 Mazda, 126
Katanga, 34 McCarthyism, 50–51, 70
Kennan, George F., 82 McNeill, William, 92
Kennedy, John F., 50–52, 71, 78 Mecca, 15
Khadi, 117 Media, 89, 105, 132–36; trans-
Kissinger, Henry, 27, 74 national, 137–45
Kojève, Alexandre, 22–24 Mediterranean, 103
Korea, 13, 53 Megerssa, Gemetchu, 113
Kosovo, 74–76 Meir, Golda, 48
190 Index
Merchants, 29, 103, 128, 161 n. 40, solidarities, 154–58; institutional-

163 n. 83 ism of, 1, 21; purpose of, xi, 11,
Mesopotamia, 12 68, 83, 163 n. 75; territorial basis
Mexico, 138–39 of, 73; as totality, ix, 23–24; uni-
Middle East, 19, 101, 104, 153 versality of, 16–18. See also
Mill, John Stuart, 97–98, 100 Governance; State
Milosevic, Slobodan, 76 Nationalism: in colonial world,
Ming, 13 19–20; and communication,
Missionaries, 116, 133 133–34, 138; European, 20, 40;
Modernity: abstraction and, 40; adap- and exclusion, 90–91, 105–6, 160
tation of, 110–11; and control, n. 25; future of, 152–53; versus
150; diversity of, 108; expansive protonationalism, 21; against so-
nature of, 58, 80; and political cialism, 79–80; and state logic,
form, 59, 84; and rationality, 55, 47–50, 65, 110, 151; as totalitari-
109, 123, 151; and time, 92–93; anism, x. See also Totalitarianism
and totalitarianism, x; totality and, Nativism, 79–80
ix, 35–38; versus tradition, NATO, 75–76
111–14, 118–19, 127, 162 n. 54; Nehru, Jawaharlal, 117–18
and transmission of ideas, 3–4, Netherlands, 10, 30, 134; imperialism
43–44, 107; universalizing dimen- of, 60
sions of, 121–22, 144; vagueness Nevis, 15
of, 106–7. See also Totality Ngugi wa Thiongo’s, 108
Mogul Empire, 11 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 163 n. 77
Mongols, 13, 45, 65, 104 Nigeria, 34
Monoethnicity, 92 Nissan, 126
Montesquieu, 59 Nkrumah, Kwame, 4
Montezuma, 33 Northern Ireland, 135
Moore, Barrington, 43 Norway, 134
Morocco, 29, 65
Muhammad, 103 Olwig, Karen, 15
Multiculturalism, 81, 83, 100, 104 Olympic Games, 18
Munif, Abdelrahman, 31, 107–8, 116 Organization of African Unity, 5,
Muslim world, 101–4 33–34
Organization of American States, 5
NAFTA, 26 Oromo, 113–14
Napoleon, 24–25, 33, 131 Ossetia, 53
Napoleonic Wars, 28 Ottoman empire, 11, 24, 33, 41, 47
Nasser, Gamal Abdel, 4
Nation-state, 48; contestations of, 54, Pacifism, 156
151; cultural problems of, 84, Pakistan, 53
137–39; and culture, 20, 34, 41, Palestine, 19, 48, 153
89; ethical status of, x; and global Pan-Africanism, 4, 90
Index 191
Pan-Arabism, 2, 4 Rationality: and community, 95; de-

Pan-Asianism, 90 cline of, 73–75, 77; definition of,
Panchayat, 58 xii; of economic enterprise, 31, 68;
Pandey, Gyanendra, 107 hidden, 168 n. 33; impact of glob-
Parsons, Talcott, 56, 112 alization on, 151–53, 157–58;
Pax Americana, 10 modernity and, 121–23; and
Pax Mongolica, 104 power, 62; sources of, 72, 99, 106;
Pax Romana, 10, 65, 103 split, 106, 109; utilitarian, 28. See
Peace of Utrecht, 28 also Totality
Peace of Westfalia, 28 Reformation, 28
Peasants, 116–17 Reich, Robert, 155–56
Perry, Commodore Matthew, 33 Renan, Ernest, 38, 40
Persia, 103–4 Reynolds, Susan, 10
Persian Gulf, 15, 139, 145 Ricardo, David, 67
Philippines, 139 Robertson, Roland, 159 n. 1
Pilgrimage routes, 102, 130 Roman empire, 102
Poland, 28 Romanticism, 131
Polanyi, Karl, 118 Rome, 16, 103
Political, the: characteristics of, 1, 26; Rorty, Richard, 174 n. 4
and the economic, 59; and eman- Rosenberg, Justin, 5
cipatory trends, 122–23; fragmen- Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 9, 14, 150
tation of, 68; irrationality of, Russia, 48, 53, 75, 117
151–53; morality of, 22, 36; as Rwanda, 134
science object, 35–36; self-
sufficiency of, 6, 62, 64, 71–73, Saharan trade route, 11, 29, 65, 128
78, 81, 102, 159 n. 5; subordina- Sahlins, Marshall, 22
tion to other spheres, 5, 82, Said, Edward, 131
161 n. 39, 171 n. 50 Saitoti, Tepilit Ole, 111–12
Polo, Marco, 101–2, 104, 127–28 Sassanid empire, 103
Polyethnicity, 92 Sassen, Saskia, 5, 148
Portugal: imperialism of, 60–61, 165 Saudi Arabia, 80, 108
n. 7 Scardigli, Victor, 124
Positivism, 35–36 Schäffle, Albert, 36
Postmodernism, 123 Schmitt, Carl, 22, 24
Poststructuralism, 81, 100, 141 Schröder, Gerhard, 72
Protestantism, 121, 123 Schumpeter, Joseph, 41
Protonationalism, 48 Scotland, 53, 79, 154
Psychoanalysis, 22, 55 Scott, James C., 162 n. 67
Punjab, 53 Serbia, 75
Puritanism, 123 Serengeti, 111
Shakespeare, William, 37
Qur’an, 103 Simmel, Georg, 39, 100, 106
192 Index
Singapore, 15 Steuart, Sir James, 59

Smith, Adam, 59 Streeck, Wolfgang, 52, 124
Snyder, Jack, 28 Switzerland, 10, 134
Social Contract, 41, 149, 163 n. 77 Syria, 53
Socialism, 50, 54, 77, 79–80, 84
Solidarity, 89; and communication, Thailand, 140
134–36; erosion of, 107–9; and ex- Thatcher, Margaret, 124
clusion, 90–92; expansive, 104; Thirty Years’ War, 28–29
and governance, 101–4; horizon- Todorov, Tzvetan, 107
tal, 105–6, 144; national, 153; sub- Tongan Islands, 115
national, 154; transnational, 90, Tönnies, Ferdinand, 97, 100
96, 100–101, 144, 154–57; utili- Totalitarianism, ix; detached, 78–79;
tarian, 97–99; weak, 96, 100. See and economy, 148; as embodi-
also Nationalism ment, 3, 49; and globalization,
Somalia, 34 149–51, 158; imperialism and, 64,
Songhai, 11 85; and nationalism, x, 51; and
South Africa, 30 nation-state, 23, 35–40
Sovereignty: decline of, 77–78, 132, Totality: antitotality, 81; appearance
153–54; entitlement to, 17; as fa- of, 141; conceptual, ix, 70, 93–94;
cade, 58; multiple, 10; subnational, erosion of, x, 68, 73–76, 79, 100;
53, 79 measures of, 21–22, 49, 63; ration-
Soviet Union, 4, 135, 160 n. 16 ality and, xii, 151–52; and state
Spain, 138, 141; imperialism of, logic, 23–24, 36, 40–43; as sys-
60–61, 107 temic integration, 49–51
Spence, Jonathan, 130 Toyota, 126
Spencer, Herbert, 42 Trade routes, 29, 45–46, 48, 58,
Stagl, Justin, 131–32 65–66, 102–5, 130
Ständestaat, 10 Turkey, 47, 53, 110, 153
State: and civilization, 98; versus
“country,” 53–54; decline of, Uagadu, 11
56–57, 84–87, 151, 154, 160 n. 17; Uganda, 34
and dictatorship, 110; economic Umayyads, 103
function, 5, 59–60, 69–73, 76–79; Umma, 10, 25
formation, 27–32, 115–16; irra- United Nations, 5, 96
tionality of, 152; pluralism of, 167 United States, 69, 106, 111, 119;
n. 26; and raison d’état, 63; relation capitalism, 124; Civil War, 60;
to other states, 7–8, 22, 48, 52, 54, governability in, 49–50, 68, 150;
82; and social control, 162 n. 67; imperialism, 65, 70–73, 75, 77, 81;
sovereignty, 6; welfare, 52, media industry, 139–42; as model,
119–20, 124; world, 149–51. See 113; nationalism, 153; questions of
also Corpus Mysticum; Governance; cultural uniformity, 83, 135; wel-
Nation-state fare state, 71, 124
Index 193
Universal Declaration of Human Wilson, Woodrow, 17, 19

Rights, 105 Winch, Peter, 95
Universalism, 1, 121, 131; cultural, World Bank, 82
16, 92–94, 98, 101; governance World system, 57, 65–67, 69, 86,
and, 10; of modernity, 122. See also 103, 108–10, 114, 126, 128, 145,
Modernity 148
Urry, John, 68 World Trade Organization, 148
Utilitarianism, 96–98 World War I, 11, 16–19, 25, 47, 50,
55, 76, 79, 105
Venice, 102 World War II, 47, 50, 74–75, 124
Verlagssystem, 40, 163 n. 75
Vienna, Conference of, 28 Xenophon, 59
Vietnam, 38
Vikings, 134 Yemen, 53
Young Turks, 47, 109–10
Wadai, 33 Yugoslavia, 19, 53, 135, 145
Wales, 53, 154
Wallerstein, Immanuel, 114 Zakaria, Fareed, 74
Wallonia, 53 Zanzibar, 15–16, 46
Weber, Max, xii, 7, 34, 44, 55, 91, 93, Zionism, 164 n. 87
98, 106, 109, 114, 116, 121, 126
Mohammed A. Bamyeh is associate professor at New York University,
where he teaches transcultural processes, political theory, and historical
sociology. He edits the journal Passages: Journal of Transnational and
Transcultural Studies and is the author of The Social Origins of Islam:
Mind, Economy, Discourse (Minnesota, 1999), which was recognized with
an Albert Hourani Book Award from the Middle East Studies Association.

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THE ENDS OF GLOBALIZATION

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1. Governmentality and the New Global “Order” 1

2. The New Imperialism: Six Theses 59

3. The Cultural Landscape of Globalization:

Conclusion: Control, Rationality, and

he fact that a term so unwieldy as “globalization” has come to refer to

chapter 3. There has been a plethora of negative descriptors summing up

concerned with are the histories of modalities of response to those ﬁelds

the form of a “trend report” and published as an issue of Current

f the nation-state continues to survive and imagine a purpose for itself

surrender a certain degree of sovereignty to a higher instance in a way that

ment. Arab governments generally lacked clearly distinguishing cultural

ganizations, such as the United Nations, the Organization for African

more-integrated systems of inquiry. At one point, Stanley Hoffmann

the disjunctions in the spheres of reason, which Max Weber outlined

state system as a locus of governance must be seen as being embedded in

Historical Contours of the Inside: Magnitude and Multiplicity

of the Roman Empire. Conﬂict between those sources of governance,

both ﬁscal hemorrhage and various transnational pressures. Thus the

Historical Contours of the Facade: Realm, Empire, Enclave

But looked at from “below,” the empire is signiﬁcant in another re-

Second, there is the enclave that is created by or organically embed-

character. Realms can and have throughout history become foundations of

Transforming the Facade

global convergence toward the nation-state model can be charted along

[g]iven the ofﬁcial commitment of the victorious powers to Wilsonian

characterized by “center” and “periphery”: The center is so not only

tional underpinnings of this drive required the input of organized agen-

between measurement and experience is already provided in the heritage

The Master’s Simulacrum

Here, what is to be recognized is not the “natural order of things”—

competing forces to do the same. The expansion of governance and of the

famous sketch of pristine civilizations as the new categories of global

Capital and Coercion

dimension of the story. The merciless process of eliminating competitors

cognitive attempts to force uniform conceptual order on data, reports, and

mercantilism and colonialism, capitalist expansion was aided by the

shows that contemporary multinational enterprises that enjoy signiﬁcant

governance has accumulated so much power that nothing in the world

Transforming the Inside

military technologies, visions of alliance with great powers, and novel

ance of legitimacy—prevents them from revealing that they endure on

Totalitarianism and the Documentary Philosophy of the State

more than an allegorized art of survival in a world bustling with poten-

bows the grass.”63 This “awe-inspiring” quality gradually came to be seen

propagated themes of power, governance, proper channels, and represen-

progressively replacing barter economies with universally abstract money

the self-enclosed medieval town.75 The explicit denial of the contribu-

Even though none of the theorists of irreducible society and total

ing to be a violation of traditional laws. In that case, governance was ex-

The methods of modernization chosen in one country change the dimen-

Without both the capitalist and reactionary experiences, the communist