Empires and nations pull in different directions. Empires are founded on principles of institutionalized differences and distinctions, both laterally between peoples or geographies and vertically between those on top whose superiority grants them the right to rule over others and those below whose inferiority condemns them to be ruled by others. Nations, in contrast, are imagined and affective communities that promote, at least rhetorically if not always in practice, the commonality, horizontal equivalency, and homogeneity of the population that constitutes the nation. A nation at its inception is a political claim that a shared culture, ethnic, political, or religious, gives a people the right to self-rule, and possibly to sovereignty and statehood. At one end of the political spectrum, empires operate through hierarchy and difference between subjects and rulers, while at the other end, nations function on the basis of equality and shared nature, whether ethnic, religious, or political, of their citizens.

It is 9 October 2001 and one of the authors, Thedvall, has been working for a month as a stagiaire/researcher at the Directorate General (DG) of Employment and Social Affairs (DG EMPL). It is morning, and she is taking part in an induction course at the DG EMPL to become familiarised with the European Commission, the DG, and their ways of working. Induction courses are frequently held at the DG and the European Commission in general. There is a constant influx of people starting to work as fonctionnaires with permanent positions or arriving as detached national experts (DNEs) or stagiaires staying for a few months or a few years. The influx is matched only by the constant stream of farewell parties and goodbye drinks. People move in and out of the city all the time. Brussels is a city where friends constantly leave. The room, a typical meeting room in the DG with grey/blueish chairs, tables, floors and walls, is filled with a mix of people of different nationalities, positions and levels, from directors to trainees/stagiaires. The day starts out with the Director General welcoming us and talking about the European Union (EU) project. As Director General of DG EMPL, he is particularly pleased that the EU project has expanded to include social issues, moving the EU closer towards a federation. He is convinced that, within this decade or the next, the EU will become a proper federal union with working political processes and a European Parliament as important as its member states’ parliaments.

The main debates about nationalism during the past two decades have concentrated on the effects of changing means of communication and processes of de- and reterritorialization. The entangled web of relations which traversed national boundaries did not produce “the utopia of a post-national history,” but the “stabilization and territorialization of the nation-state,” in Sebastian Conrad’s view.1 Whereas the dynamics of nationalism have generally been located within nation-states, as “imagined communities,” “invented traditions,” or reactions to modernization, Conrad’s own case studies show that “the shifts and changes in the discourse of nationalism … appear not only as effects of internal trajectories, as the familiar picture would suggest, but just as much of the larger process we retrospectively call globalization.”

The Dutch Empire lasted from 1600 to 1975 and beyond; even now there are some Caribbean island dependencies left. The size, shape, and nature of the empire has evolved and altered, but over those centuries the Dutch colonies have been an important, if fluctuating, component of the national consciousness. Economic advantages were very considerable, but arguably the Dutch gained just as much in terms of self-confidence and status for their small nation: in the nineteenth century the empire was seen as absolutely essential in terms of both economics and prestige. Even in the twenty-first century, a centrist prime minister could call for a return to “the mentality of the VOC” (Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie, United East Indies Company), a remark that was not universally well received.

This chapter synthesizes the history of the monarchy in Brazil from the Portuguese court’s 1807 exile to Rio de Janeiro to the end of the Regency in 1840. It addresses the European threats to the Portuguese monarchy, its successes in Brazil, and its adaptation to the Atlantic revolutionary era. It focuses on the actions of two monarchs, João VI and Pedro, João’s heir in both the old Portuguese kingdom and the new Brazilian one, which Pedro made independent and transformed into the Empire of Brazil, in 1822. It goes on to discuss Pedro I’s struggle (1822-1831) for domination against the Brazilian elite, and the results, through the Regency (1831-1840) following Pedro I’s abdication. Of particular significance in all of this are international and social issues bound up with the continued expansion of African slavery and its Atlantic trade. In both the diplomacy between João VI and his crucial English allies, the abolition of that trade loomed large. It was central, too, in the struggles between Pedro I and his parliamentary opposition. Indeed, slavery’s maintenance as foundational to the economy, the society, and those who dominated both, as well as the state, is made clear in analyzing the monarchy’s politics during 1822-1840. Slavery affected the monarchy’s survival, transformation, and the nature of party formation and ideology in the constitutional monarchy that emerged by 1840.

Romantic-era writing affirms the ideal of a bond between human and animal, while often showing this bond destroyed by the killing of the nonhuman animal. This chapter explores the treatment of such bonds, and their destruction, in the light of Mark Payne’s argument that literary representations of dying animals incorporate a sacrificial logic by which the nonhuman animal’s death enables the development of the fully human subject and the expression of that humanity in writing. In Samuel Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancyent Marinere, William Wordsworth’s Hart-Leap Well, Lord Byron’s Mazeppa, and William Blake’s "The Fly," I argue that elements of this "humanizing" process can be traced, but that the poems are characterized by ambivalence: too troubled by animal death, too uncertain about the efficacy of the message they attempt to draw from it, or in the case of “The Fly,” too wedded to the radical equivalence of all beings to be fully committed to a story of progress through sacrifice. The chapter ends with a discussion of John Clare’s badger poems and “To the Snipe,” in which there is a radical refusal of sacrificial logic.

Developing “friendly relations among nations based on respect for the principle of equal rights and self-determination of peoples” is one of the purposes of the United Nations Organization, as stated in the founding charter of 1945. The principle of self-determination has even become a right through the Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples (December 1960). The Declaration states that: “All peoples have the right to self-determination; by virtue of that right they freely determine their political status and freely pursue their economic, social and cultural development.” Self-determination has thus entered international law. Strangely enough, however, nowhere are the bearers of this right defined: who are the peoples entitled to claim self-determination? This omission is not there by chance. Indeed, the definition of peoplehood is far from evident. Should a people be defined on a territorial basis, i.e. include all the population living within a given territory delimited by given boundaries?

In the history of European integration, the years after 2004 have been characterised by three main processes: the dialectic of deepening and broadening, the unfolding and impact of major crises, and new types and levels of European politicisation. This chapter aims to develop a perspective on how these three contemporary historical processes relate to the longer-term process of European integration. I claim that the enlarged European Union (EU) of the early twenty-first century may have been moderately failing forward when managing its numerous crises, but it has been able neither to substantially counter the fallout from repeated crises, nor to meaningfully reverse internal processes of socio-economic and increasingly also political divergence. In global comparison, the failings of the EU have clearly been relative rather than catastrophic. At the same time, the steps the EU has taken in these years – to counter crises, integrate and democratise – would need to be assessed as rather moderate precisely because internal challenges have been mounting amidst a worsening external environment.

Genuine, refined, and updated scholarship in recent decades has gradually refuted the view of nationalism as a strictly modern phenomenon. That view in general had tended to interconnect nationalism with the industrial revolution and capitalism. According to this approach, the objective emergence of national markets combined with subjective manipulations by interested capitalists served to mold, often invent, nationalism; the conspicuous political expressions of this modern process are – per the modernists – the national states of western Europe. By contrast, my approach criticizes this dogmatic, often Marxist and Eurocentric, view, and is closely related to the new keen scholarship, which explores nationalism and nationhood, also beyond Europe, deep into antiquity, and aspires to avoid dogmas which ignore the rich, variegated, and eventful history of ethnopolitical identities. The Jewish nationalist case, as we shall see, conspicuously fits into the meaningfully nuanced long history category.

In earnest efforts to disrupt the racialized space of Anthropocene conversations, Indigenous epistemological alternatives have emerged as exceptional antidotes to ecological despair with privileged access to nonhuman and interspecies lifeworlds. While many Indigenous approaches do offer beneficent alternatives, their broadscale characterization tends to deposit fresh essentialisms in the wake of the old, and battles over intellectual privacy and appropriation frustrate coalitional urgency. Thus, the very incommensurability that these new approaches seek to demolish – those nourished by the imperial practices we aim to counter – are rejuvenated. Simultaneously, Indigenous critical thought continues to herald its singular capacities for reclamation, and at the same time to police its appropriation, at once demanding and rejecting inclusion in serious academic and scientific conversations. Drawing on Timothy Morton’s concept of the “weird” as a way of conceptualizing human embeddedness in a vast biosphere of nonhuman others that both contains and erases us, this chapter argues that a politics of action based on exceptional epistemologies and myths of alterity cannot succeed. We are tangled in a structural universe where fictions of difference – not just between humans and nonhumans, but among humans themselves – emerge from the very systems we seek to explode.

In 1832, the Prussian novelist Gotthilf August von Maltitz published a curious epistolary novella, the Journey among the Ruins of Old Europe in the Year 2830. Telling of a journey of an American tourist to Europe to visit its ruins and learn about its past, von Maltitz meant this to be a ‘serious and satirical’ work. In it, Europe was a devastated land, invaded and despoiled by hordes from the East, the Russians first and foremost. Its peoples had been easily subdued because of their weakness after centuries of decadence, brought about by their materialism and individualism. In the novella, the comparison between Europe and the United States was a grim one indeed. Von Maltitz’s text, now a forgotten literary curiosity, was rather unusual in its day, and few of its readers would have seen in it a serious foreshadowing of European decline. In truth, the nineteenth century was an age of unprecedented economic, military and cultural expansion for Europe. Admittedly, Alexis de Tocqueville claimed that its nations had attained the acme of their power and that Russia and the United States, ‘called by a secret design of Providence’, would one day hold in their hands the destinies of the world. Yet few others, at that time and for the best part of the century, were so prescient.

The death of Spain’s sickly and heirless King Carlos II in 1700 began the War of Spanish Succession (1701-1714), which brought the French House of Bourbon to the Spanish throne and initiated a series of wars that would shape much of Spain’s eighteenth century. Spanish-British conflict was at the center of the subsequent War of Jenkins’ Ear (1739-1749); and the Seven Years’ War (1756-1763). The desire to control Spanish American markets for consumer goods and for African slaves were at the center of these conflicts, and also shaped the eighteenth-century reform agenda known as the Bourbon reforms, which included measures designed to liberalize trade within the Spanish empire, streamline imperial administration, and transform indigenous Americans into productive workers and consumers of Spanish goods. The chapter also examines the early Age of Revolutions in Spanish America, surveying the indigenous rebellions in Peru that are often referred to as “the Túpac Amaru rebellion,” but were actually three separate, overlapping conflicts. It briefly examines Spain’s contributions to the American Revolutionary War, and concludes by discussing Spain’s involvement in and reaction to the Haitian Revolution.

The aim of the chapter is to show the profound semantic transformations undergone by four key political concepts - citizenship, constitution, federalism, and liberalism - in the Spanish Atlantic at a time of imperial revolutions such as the first decades of the nineteenth century. Naturally, the great controversies surrounding these concepts and their associates that took place in those immense territories can only be summarized at the cost of a stylization of the most important changes. To this end, this essay draws on the results of the collective research project known as Iberconceptos, in which we set out to compare the trajectories of some twenty basic concepts in the Iberian territories on both sides of the Atlantic. The work emphasizes the inevitably experimental nature of the decisive political changes that took place in those years, and highlights the point of view of the actors, who faced with the conceptual tools available the imperative need to find answers to the extremely serious constitutional challenge triggered by the sudden displacement of the monarch considered legitimate (Fernando VII) from the throne of Madrid. This exceptional situation led them to propose new legal-political concepts and to try out new institutional arrangements.

This chapter analyses how the United Nations (UN) as an intergovernmental organisation, has shaped the functioning of the European Union (EU) and its member states in global governance over the years. The EU is often seen, both by scholars and by practitioners, as a special, even unique actor in the UN context, characterised by high levels of support, cooperation, institutionalisation and formalisation.

This chapter approaches uniqueness not as a mantra, but as a question of empirical validation, by zooming in on the UN General Assembly (UNGA). This organ embodies the principle of universality by bringing together all UN members and, in addition, allowing a wide variety of observers to participate in its work, including the EU. While the latter’s functioning is well-documented, there remain some blind spots to be addressed, such as the UNGA’s decision to grant the European Economic Community (EEC) observer status in October 1974.

The nation-state is undoubtedly the most important political formation in modern world history. It is universally recognized and aspired to, but not universally realized. The nation is never a finished project, and nationalism, which is understood here as the cultural politics that has the nation as its subject and its object, derives its energy and motivating force from perceived threats from within and without. While nationalism is a modern phenomenon, religion is often regarded as either ancient or transcending history. Before the nineteenth century, religion everywhere in the world was an integral part of statecraft. The legitimation of rulers came from heaven and was mediated by priestly and monastic classes. This is true in Christendom, but also in other major religions like Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucianism, and Shintoism.