RAR created a particular military culture in which its troops developed powerful bonds of soldiery loyalty to their regiment. This loyalty was created through the Rhodesian Army mimicking the invented traditions of British colonial regiments, which were historically successful in creating in-group solidarity among troops. In contrast to much received opinion, recruitment to the RAR was not dependent upon either ethno-regional or familial identity, and soldiers from all over the country joined the army for myriad reasons. Masvingo catchment area became important, although not dominant, in supplying recruits. Likewise, soldiering became a metier prevalent within certain families. By the onset of the war for Zimbabwe, the RAR’s soldierly potency had been greatly enhanced by operational experience. structure and ethos of the RAR underwent significant changes at the tail end of the Federation and after the Rhodesian Front’s rise to power. In particular, a new emphasis upon the counter-insurgency doctrine learned during the Malayan Emergency indicated a shift towards being deployed on COIN tasks within Rhodesia.

Chapter five analyses the period between 1914 and 1989. Several sociological theories frame this period as one of rational planning, certain knowledge and control. Such beliefs were certainly prominent but they were related to uncertainty: The First World War ended in the fall of empires and social upheaval. Intellectual and political reactions were threefold: art emphasized a fractured world, social sciences accommodated uncertainty and political ideologies claimed to banish uncertainty and offered total control. Totalitarian states blended promises of certainty and determinism with a world of omnipresent threats and dangers. The Second World War was heavily influenced by their conviction that they had uncovered the hidden laws of history. After 1945, the advent of thermonuclear weapons caused widespread existential uncertainty. I interpret the strategy of deterrence as a pragmatic expression of minimal communication in an unpredictable world. The experience of insecurity and a breakdown of international society also spurred scientific ontologies of certainty. Modernization theory and Marxism dominated post-war social science and created the strategies that reaped tragedy in Vietnam.

This chapter traces the origins of the Troubles in Northern Ireland from the mid 1960s, depicting the British government’s ignorance about the Province and reluctance to get involved. The chapter assesses the development of British military thinking about insurgency, arguing the army reflected on the lessons of the decolonisation wars, and realised the tactics used in the colonies would not be suitable in the future. The army’s deliberate intellectual decolonisation before 1969 made it much harder for soldiers to accept later on that others might perceive their actions to be inherently colonial. The chapter shows how the Ministry of Defence began to consider what might happen if the disputes on the streets of Northern Ireland got more serious. From an early stage, defence planners and ministers feared a civil war, and this fear shaped decision-making for years to come. Northern Ireland was viewed by the British as a home nation, therefore deserving support, but also deeply alien in political and social terms. The government’s decision to delay sending in the army for as long as possible made the task of restoring order more difficult, as the local police force’s credibility evaporated, and Catholic communities looked beyond the state for protection.

The third chapter examines how the incumbents in Iraq and Sudan reacted to the uprisings in their peripheries. It begins by establishing that the future post-colonial elites had been exposed to colonial practices of control, through their constant interaction with the colonial authorities. It then moves to demonstrate how these practices resurfaced when these governments faced dissent in their peripheries.

In this chapter, we examine Operation Blue Star, its aftermath, the anti-Sikh riots in Delhi and the Indian state’s efforts to find a negotiated solution up to 1987 with the Rajiv-Longowal Accord. We then evaluate the shift in strategy to combat antiterrorism (mid-1987 to mid-1991). This is followed by a review of the counter-insurgency operation from the end of 1991 to early 1993 which defeated the Sikh militancy and led to the restoration of ‘normality’. After 1993, we outline how the moderate Sikh political leadership re-engaged with the political process in the state and won a landslide victory in the state elections in 1997. In conclusion, we reflect on the competing explanations offered in the literature on the defeat of the militancy associated with the movement for Khalistan.

This chapter questions the urban/rural distinction, given that in times of conflict and demographic volatility, borders between urban and rural are diminished and events in the countryside shape those of the city and vice versa. Accordingly, it considers the impact of Turkish security forces’ counterinsurgency strategy of mass forced displacement not only on rural areas but also how it reconfigured Kurdish urban centres. It outlines the implementation of the forced evacuation of potentially millions of rural Kurds in order to deprive the PKK of its local support networks. The chapter shows the emotional trauma and the violence of the experiences, which led to the relocation of PKK support from the countryside to the cities. It also addresses the disaggregated strategies of state repression, particularly the so-called deep state that operated outside of any form of democratic accountability. The chapter also covers the state’s relationship with an Islamist movement, Hezbollah, used to target Kurdish intellectuals and politicians and to analyses how the PKK mobilised in Kurdish cities, focusing in particular on Serhildans (Uprisings), Newroz celebrations and guerrilla funerals.

Critical literature on the history of developmentalism in the Global South has so far laid emphasis on the authorising force generated by the future telos of attaining the status of a ‘developed country’, by various developmental institutions and their violently transformative programmes for well over the previous century. Much like other significant utopias of the twentieth century, this promised telos was very rarely (if ever) actualised – its persistent quest has, instead, generated several monumental calamities. But, this is where the similarities between developmental futures and ‘mass Utopias’ come to an end. For while these other dreamworlds have, under the burden of their catastrophes, become ‘futures past’ in a ‘post–Cold War’ world, developmentalism has only tightened its grip, seemingly impervious to the vast catalogue of failures of its promises in this ‘age of catastrophe’.

Offensive and defensive army action responded to multiple, partly contradictory logics. The supreme commander and his staff designed the official strategy to defeat the rebels, which officers at the lower levels were called upon to implement. The motives of officers and soldiers “on the spot,” such as personal gain, were frequently at odds with the official strategy, however, and shaped military activities and the use of force to suit their own needs. Finally, situational factors such as the immediate threats soldiers faced on duty, i.e., attacks, hunger and illness, impeded the pursuit of long-term goals. The need to procure food by harvesting enemy cornfields, or the quest for enrichment by looting or putting prisoners to work often triggered external violence. Both rebel and government forces were guilty of strategic massacres and other atrocities in a show of force or an attempt to demoralize the enemy or as acts of hatred and revenge. Looting was not simply an incidental feature of warfare. It became an integral part of the government system to compensate soldiers and volunteers for their efforts in the struggle against the rebels and to cover campaign expenses.

Battles between large combat units characterized the first phase of the war from July 1847 to the end of 1848, when rebel forces attempted to conquer the area controlled by the government. The insurgents mobilized large detachments, at times amounting to several thousand combatants. Late 1848, however, saw a shift in the nature of the war. According to a contemporary observer, it transmuted into “an eternal war with no quarter,” assuming “a more bloody and fierce character.” This second phase no longer saw large battles but a “guerrilla war in which engagements were daily and everywhere but with no conclusive result.” For the divided and almost routed rebels, the new Cult of the Speaking Cross became a vital cohesive element. The proclamations of the cross offered an interpretation of their destiny and presented past defeats as sanctions for having offended God’s orders, but they also inspired hope for a better future. Beyond this, veneration of the crosses provided inhabitants of different villages and followers of different leaders with a common ideological point of identification.

The Caste War stands out from the numerous other rebellions and civil wars in Mexico in the nineteenth century due to its duration, its magnitude and its consequences. While war-related casualties added up to hundreds or even several thousands in most other conflicts, they probably amounted to tens of thousands in the Caste War. Apart from the Yaqui rebellions, the Caste War was the only rural uprising that led to the establishment of independent rebel polities lasting more than a few months or years. Leaving these particularities aside for the moment, it is evident that many features of the Caste War were far from unique but mirrored widespread patterns of violence, politics and state-building in Latin America.Political instability, gross inequality, a lingering racist ideology and rivalry for power, not least to access revenues in the context of an economy slow to recover, shaped the background against which the Caste War and other revolts and civil strifes evolved. Given the weakness of formal institutions, caudillism became the dominant pattern of politics and rule for decades after Independence, not only among Yucatecan factions and kruso’b but all over Mexico and beyond.

Battles between large combat units characterized the first phase of the war from July 1847 to the end of 1848, when rebel forces attempted to conquer the area controlled by the government. The insurgents mobilized large detachments, at times amounting to several thousand combatants. Late 1848, however, saw a shift in the nature of the war. According to a contemporary observer, it transmuted into “an eternal war with no quarter,” assuming “a more bloody and fierce character.” This second phase no longer saw large battles but a “guerrilla war in which engagements were daily and everywhere but with no conclusive result.” For the divided and almost routed rebels, the new Cult of the Speaking Cross became a vital cohesive element. The proclamations of the cross offered an interpretation of their destiny and presented past defeats as sanctions for having offended God’s orders, but they also inspired hope for a better future. Beyond this, veneration of the crosses provided inhabitants of different villages and followers of different leaders with a common ideological point of identification.