A renewed focus on “the common” in contemporary political theory, as it gained momentum in the work of Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, is a direct response to the failure of community in political theory. I argue that Hardt and Negri develop what we can understand as an “insurgent democracy of the common.” On the one hand, such an insurgent democracy of the common seeks to preserve the revolutionary potential of democracy. On the other hand, this democracy of the common also tends toward political romanticism: the legitimacy of “the common” depends on a political subjectivity tied to a paradoxical nostalgia for failed revolutions. As such, the democracy of the common entails an escape from the realities of the political world that undercuts its emancipatory potential. This becomes particularly obvious in the hope that Hardt and Negri place in social movements of resistance, but also in their critique of neoliberal capitalism.

In contrast to liberal democracy, which translates constituent power into processes and institutions of representation and government, Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri place a premium on constituent power: inspired by social movements, such as Occupy Wall Street, they argue that the constituent power of a multitude should not be translated into the constituted powers of a state. Doing so would deprive the multitude of its revolutionary and radically democratic potential. Pure constituent power seeks to repeat in perpetuity the exception of the revolutionary founding moment of democracy. That Hardt and Negri rely on increasingly theological models in their account of constituent power and revolution highlights the antidemocratic tendency of their conception of “constituent governance.” A political theology that seeks to make the exception permanent is not compatible with democracy. The enactment of pure constituent power in the democracy of the common inevitably leads to what Carl Schmitt described as “sovereign dictatorship.” Hardt’s and Negri’s “constituent governance” is an arbitrary form of governance without any checks and balances.

During 1917–1918, the trans-European crisis of the war and its ending brought variable patterns of regime instability, popular insurgency, and revolutionary collapse. Most dramatically affected were the defeated countries (Russia, Germany, Austria, Hungary), along with Italy, who ended on the winning side disappointingly. After great confrontational divisiveness and civil violence, outcomes varied from successful revolutionary insurrection (Russia), through fraught stabilization within republican-democratic frameworks (Germany, Austria), to violently repressive counter-revolution (Hungary, Italy). In western and northern Europe, victor powers (France, Britain, Belgium) and neutrals (Switzerland, the Netherlands, Scandinavia) underwent versions of democratic strengthening and substantial reform. These outcomes produced new political fields of polarized enmities and mostly fragile consensus that vitally shaped the 1930s.

The introductory chapter presents an overview of the classical doctrine of civil war and discusses some of the reasons for studying them. It argues that some doctrine of civil war is an inevitable component of any international legal system. Observing how the doctrine of civil war that existed in the age of sail and steam has come to seem rather opaque and remote in the present day, this study aims to offer modern readers a valuable review of that past tradition and to help them remember how such a doctrine once came to be and what happened to it. At the same time, the purpose of the book is not to argue for a revival of or return to the classical law, but rather to better understand the aspirations and limitations of the law of past generations, which may not be too unlike those of our own times.

This chapter concludes the book by revisiting its key findings and by reflecting on their meaning from a broader perspective. The first half of the chapter consists of a summary of the rise and fall of the classical doctrine of civil war as explained in the preceding chapters. The second half assesses the overall legacy of the classical doctrine in the light of modern legal theory, and observes how the classical law was hardly better able to overcome the problems of indeterminacy and recognition than current principles are. Yet this does not mean that the classical doctrine would have been meaningless, as its practical utility may have been based precisely on its limited effectiveness and inevitable ambiguity.

This chapter explores the golden era of the classical doctrine of civil war, which lasted until the middle of the nineteenth century. Its focus is on the Spanish American revolutions and the emergence of the law of neutrality in the context of civil wars. The several case examples illustrate how the familiar questions and disputes from the previous chapters persisted and developed in state practice throughout the period. In addition to the Spanish American revolutions, the chapter also discusses the impact of European and American revolutionary ideologies on international movements and illustrates the significant practical limitations of the classical doctrine: while it stemmed from the practice of the transatlantic world, elsewhere in the world it often seemed absent or selectively applied to deny the legal standing of indigenous and colonial insurgents, or to legitimise local rebellions within Oriental empires.

This chapter delves into the geopolitical landscape of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) states, often considered an ‘island of stability’ amid the turbulence in the broader Middle East. While this notion holds true in comparison to neighbouring countries like Iran, Iraq and Yemen, the chapter highlights that the Gulf region is not immune to internal and external conflicts. It discusses the impact of significant events such as the Iran–Iraq War, the Gulf War and the US-led invasion of Iraq in 2003 on the political dynamics of the Gulf states. The analysis spans four parts, each focusing on a key conflict: the Iran–Iraq War, the liberation of Kuwait, the 2003 Iraq War, and the war in Yemen since 2015. These conflicts have not only shaped the formation of the GCC in 1981 but have also significantly influenced the broader regional system. Emphasising the period since 1979, the chapter explores how over four decades of wars, revolutions and inter-state tensions have affected the security and stability of the Gulf states. Despite a generation passing since the last inter-state war, the ongoing fragmentation of Yemen into civil wars involving regional actors signals a transformation in the nature of conflicts. The chapter also highlights the challenges to regional stability, including the difficulty in reaching a comprehensive agreement addressing Iran’s ballistic missiles programme and its support for non-state actors. As the possibility of increased US disengagement from the Gulf looms, questions about the future security architecture in the region and the role of external participants gain prominence. The chapter raises concerns about potential security vacuums and the responses of regional actors in such a scenario.

This chapter examines how the rhetoric of achievement books is crafted through images and numbers as well as words. I argue that these media have two purposes. On one hand, they act as symbolic fragments of the nation, constituted by a recognisable Nasser-era iconography. Peasants and workers, students and soldiers, factories and machines, land and buildings – all these elements are marshalled to depict a cohesive national mosaic. On the other hand, each photograph and statistic acts as an index of the state’s achievements; the picture and the number become, on their own, an inarguable demonstration of the state’s ability to achieve. After describing the typical content of Nasserist iconography, the chapter moves to analyse it in relation to the master narratives of industrial modernisation and revolutionary responsibility. The chapter concludes with an analysis of what images exclude, what lies beyond their frame, and how these exclusions are telling about what constitutes ‘the state’ under Nasser. Governmental images and numbers are not a peripheral epiphenomenon to Nasser-era politics, but they are symbolically and indexically central to the state’s construction.

This chapter moves from low- and mid-ranking bureaucrats to higher-ranking officials and their ‘great projects’ (al-masharī‘ al-kubra) – the revolution’s signal achievements in governmental media. The chapter describes how this type of achievement was considered extraordinary, given the struggle to coordinate across fragmented and conflicting state institutions. Moreover, the chapter analyses one of the Ministry of Culture’s greatest and longest-lasting projects: to build a new Egyptian human being (binā’ al-insān al-miṣri). I argue that the need to cultivate the Egyptian masses was not purely born from a desire to civilise, but by a political imperative to build a new people to be governed by the revolutionary command. In contrast with Younis’s pejorative description of the people envisaged by the Revolution as a ‘mass’ (gumū‘) or a ‘herd’ (qatī‘), this chapter presents the meliorative side of the same project: the yet-to-exist People as a collection of ‘righteous citizens’ (muwaṭinīn ṣāliḥīn).

The introduction begins with the book’s central argument: Egyptian cultural and media institutions have constructed a coherent state project after the 1952 revolution through a praxis of ‘achievement’ (ingāz, pl. ingazāt). Inspired by the anthropology of bureaucracy and the state, the book intervenes in the longstanding historiography on the Nasser era to show how low- and mid-ranking bureaucrats affiliated to the Ministry of Culture and National Guidance have worked to create a unified state-idea after 1952, while constituting a bureaucratic corps on a similar ideological basis. Such bureaucrats, as well as higher-ranking officials and ministers, are central actors in the book’s narrative. The introduction also reviews the book’s main sources and methods, including ethnographic fieldwork, archival visits in institutional repositories and personal libraries, as well as regular dives into the second-hand book market in Cairo.

The epilogue examines the persistence of the term ‘achievements’ in Egyptian governmental media today, which is indicative of the concept’s resilience. This persistence raises an important question around the social and historical reasons undergirding the continuity of achievement praxis. Why are cultural and media institutions reproducing the achievement state in Egypt? The answer would seem to be that the current bureaucratic apparatus inherited, via institutional means, certain ways of thinking and working established after the 1952 revolution. This simple answer belies my ethnographic experience, because contemporary bureaucrats – with few exceptions – have a very faint sense of the history of the bureaucratic apparatus prior to their own entry into the workforce. A more likely answer, I suggest, is that the institutional context within which bureaucrats work did not change in some identifiable ways since 1952. The continuity of achievement praxis is tied to the institutional environment in which it thrives, rather than a conscious will among state officials transmitted across generations.

This chapter delves into everyday administrative work at the Ministry of Culture, with a specific focus on the Mass Culture Institute, the ancestor of the current General Organisation for Cultural Palaces. Based on the personal papers of Saad Kamel, this chapter provides a brief institutional history of the Institute and the low- and mid-ranking bureaucrats who worked to accomplish its mission of cultivating the rural masses. This mission was influenced by diverging ideas about Arab socialism after the socialist turn of 1961. Thus, this chapter contributes to an intellectual history of Arab socialism, by showing how the Mass Culture Institute enacted a grounded version of ‘the socialism of culture’ (ishtirakiyyat al-thaqāfa). Moreover, the chapter explores the key relationship between responsibility and achievement at the Mass Culture Institute. Low- and mid-ranking bureaucrats are constantly concerned by what falls under their responsibility, which is managed by both avoiding to take responsibility for problems and seeking to take credit for achievements (however small). These everyday achievements embody, on a smaller scale, the postrevolutionary state project.

This chapter examines how achievement books produced by Egyptian state institutions have narrated and re-narrated the 1952 revolution. These books were centrally published by the Information Department, a crucial yet seldom studied organ in the emerging Ministry of Culture and National Guidance, as well as public relations units across different ministries. After a brief institutional history of the Ministry of Culture and National Guidance as a whole, in which I demonstrate how ‘culture’ and ‘media’ were originally intertwined in administrative terms, I argue that the state’s achievements were narrated according to a changing conception of the revolution between 1954 and 1970. This rhetoric cemented a distinctive version of history among Egyptian bureaucrats, in which long lists of achievements came to articulate the bureaucratic corps’ contributions to the revolution. Moreover, it aimed to counter colonial propaganda via a systematic presentation of ‘the true Egypt’ in numerous European languages. In short, achievement books recorded, disseminated, and embodied the revolution’s accomplishments for a domestic and an international audience.

This essay analyzes the ambivalent status of objects in Pablo Neruda’s poetry. Drawing on Walter Benjamin’s studies of the paradoxes present in the figure of the collector, it traces the way poetic objects in Neruda’s odes appear simultaneously as treasured possessions and utilitarian agents of revolution. Although the portrayal of everyday objects in his later work has been read as propagandistic, it is in their personal link to the poet as collected objects that Neruda’s objects retain the potential for social change Benjamin outlines in the collector.

In 1943, on his way back to Chile, after having finished his stint as Consul General to Mexico, Pablo Neruda stopped in Peru and visited Machu Picchu. While written before he became a card-carrying member of the Party, “Alturas de Macchu Picchu” (“Heights of Macchu Picchu”) can be read not only as expressing his reactions to the physical beauty of the place, but also as depicting in poetic terms his evolution from the vanguardista of the first two volumes of Residencia en la tierra (1933, 1935) to a politically engaged writer. However, in addition to reflecting this political conversion, one can see in “Alturas de Macchu Picchu” a successful attempt at writing a left-wing poetry that builds on the achievements of the vanguardia and avoids the dogmatic pitfalls of the then mandatory socialist realism.

This chapter highlights the factors shaping the trajectory of Indian agriculture since Independence, which has undergone notable transformations. The introduction of high-yielding varieties of wheat and rice ushered in a Green Revolution that propelled India from chronic food insecurity to a situation where food surpluses are the norm. This shift has been marked by increased reliance on markets for inputs, mechanization, a growing commercial orientation for output and the growth of poultry and livestock, often supported by government subsidies and increasingly driven by private investment. These changes have occurred even as traditional institutions, such as interlinked transactions and relational contracts with traders, persist. Indian agriculture has defied global patterns of farm consolidation and is dominated by smallholdings that support a disproportionate number of people. The Indian state faces the formidable challenge of negotiating a trilemma of ensuring the economic viability, environmental sustainability and social sustainability of this large sector.

Bangladesh became an independent country in 1971. Its territory was formed of the former East Pakistan (1947–1971). Consisting mainly of the well-watered and alluvial eastern Bengal delta, Bangladesh’s economy was mainly agricultural in 1971. Although such large-scale industries as textiles and tea and such small-scale industries as handloom weaving existed on an extensive scale, an overwhelmingly large proportion of the employed workforce was engaged in agriculture. High population density, a low land–person ratio and rural poverty made diversification of the economic base an acute necessity and a challenge. A significant transformation did happen through the Green Revolution, an effective social policy that delivered a demographic transition, and a few large-scale industries forged ahead. The chapter shows how market forces, global influences and state policies combined to shape that process.

This chapter helps readers make sense of the array of activities that can be considered as irregular warfare. As an umbrella term for a particular form of warfare, its methods consist of terrorism, insurgency, revolution, coup d’état and civil war. The chapter compares and contrasts these methods according to the level of resources they employ, their respective centres of gravity, strategic and tactical orientations, mechanism for success and duration. It provides a useful taxonomy for students seeking to better comprehend irregular warfare but narrows down subsequent study to its two most prevalent methods: terrorism and insurgency.

This chapter explores how a group of North African thinkers rethought the meaning of the Arab revolution in the 1970s. Departing from anti-colonial nationalism and Marxist orthodoxy, Abdallah Laroui and Hichem Dja?t called for a deeper cultural and intellectual transformation grounded in historicist thinking. Their seminal books—La Crise des intellectuels arabes (1974) and La Personnalité et le devenir arabo-islamique (1974)—articulated visions of a new Arab future that rejected both Salafism and westernization in favor of a rational and historicized approach to Arab modernity and the future. Though published in Paris and shaped by networks in Beirut and the Arab Left, their ideas were targeted at audiences back home in Morocco and Tunisia. The chapter situates their work by tracing the complex reception of these essays across North African intellectual publics. Ultimately, it argues that the effectiveness of revolutionary thought was not determined solely by publication or prestige, but by the ability to engage meaningfully with local contexts and contested ideas of tradition and modernity. As as their reception reveals, audiences were not passive: they questioned, resisted, and sometimes rejected these “prophets”— because they insisted on situating theory within lived political constraints.