The last chapter of the book critically examines the production of history within multilayered matrices of power – influenced by “precolonial,” colonial as well as contemporary contexts. Two key concepts are the main focus of this chapter: the “greater Rwanda” thesis for Rwanda, and “balkanization” discourses for Congo. The chapter traces how both concepts instrumentalize the past to explain the present, and at times are used to justify violence or interference within the context of tense relationships between Rwanda and Congo as well as the protracted conflict in the region since the 1990s. The chapter shows that while both discourses are crucial to understand meta-narratives of the nation in both countries, they also need to be considered in their cross-border context, as they are in constant dialogue and function as cross-border foils.

The chapter also addresses how in Congo historical narratives are mobilized in debates over citizenship, a pivot of conflict in the region, emphasizing that these discourses were often constructed with the imperial débris left by the Belgians. The chapter further considers how memories about Rwandan aggression in the nineteenth century are used to “naturalize” conflicted relations between Rwanda and Congo, turning “suffering together” – at the hands of Rwanda – into an important part of defining Congolese nationality. However, as the chapter also emphasizes, while such victimhood discourses are often instrumentalized politically, they do not mean the suffering is less real. Moreover, in Rwanda as well, suffering has at times been turned into a political tool.

This chapter analyzes Qiu Jun’s advice for building the Ming army into an effective force capable of defending a vast empire. It begins with an introductory analysis of some of his army-building proposals, such as emphasizing the importance of military matters, rejecting the staging of unjustified wars, maintaining a relatively small but highly trained army, restoring the ancient system of training farmers into paramilitary troops, respecting the military and its members while upholding the principle of civil supremacy, conducting military examinations to recruit officers and training cadets in military academies, and stressing the significance of firearms. The chapter ends with a tentative discussion of his influence on the expansion of the Ming military during and after Qiu Jun’s time. It further argues that some of Qiu’s suggestions, especially his objection to wars of aggression and expansion, are still relevant more than five centuries after his death.

This chapter examines the period around independence in Rwanda and Kivu. The 1950s saw the maturation and increasing salience of “national” and “ethnic” aspects of people’s identities as they became central to political discussions over “autochthony” and access to resources. Changing political contexts made the ground more fertile for “ethnic,” as well as “national” identity to become part of the political vernacular.

For Rwanda, it focuses on the refugee waves that were the result of political violence against Tutsi in the period between 1959 and 1964. It shows that focusing too narrowly on the forced nature of their mobility disguises previous connections that were conducive to helping Tutsi refugees establish themselves in Congo. The chapter thus reiterates the importance of looking at people’s “personal information fields” as well as other preexisting affective or other ties in understanding the patterns of their mobility. For Kivu, the chapter tries to explore what other fault lines become visible when one shifts the attention away from “identity” as the sole explanation for violent conflicts, such as the “Kanyarwanda wars” in the 1960s.

A last point this chapter makes is the changing meanings of the border between Rwanda and Congo, for people living in its vicinity as well as for the Belgian administration. Whereas the Belgians had always benefited from the close connections between Kivu and Rwanda, this changed almost overnight in 1960 when Congo became independent. Both Rwandans and Congolese had used cross-border connections to build political networks and to organize out of the reach of the colonial state and traditional authorities. After Congo’s independence, the loss of control over subversive activities just across the border caused anxieties for the Belgians in Rwanda. For Congolese and Rwandans, independence turned the border into a national boundary, separating Rwandan from Congolese political sovereignty as well as altering the sense of national belonging.

Chapter 6 on Separation of Powers offers a comprehensive exploration of how the balance of power between the judiciary and other branches of government plays out in climate litigation. The authors critically analyse key cases where these doctrines have been invoked, shedding light on how these doctrines shape the courts’ approach to climate cases. They underscore the significant variation in how this issue is dealt with across jurisdictions, acknowledging the diversity of constitutional and legal frameworks globally. Despite this diversity, the authors distil an emerging best practice where courts are increasingly recognising their crucial role in safeguarding fundamental rights and constitutional values in the context of climate change. This recognition is not a one-directional or universal trend but a nuanced evolution detectable across various jurisdictions and legal systems.

This chapter examines rituals which took place after childbirth, uncovering evidence of baptisms, circumcisions, and even churching ceremonies that were held in domestic spaces. It suggests that a range of ceremonies we would now associate with public places of worship were frequently located in domestic spaces. It moves beyond studies which have argued that domestic baptism primarily took place in the home out of necessity, demonstrating that elective domestic baptism was more commonplace than has previously been acknowledged. Domestic ceremonies could also take place in networks of homes, being accommodated not in the family home, but in the home of a midwife, rabbi, or lay co-religionist. These ceremonies, and associated processions from the home to the place of public worship, marked the symbolic ending of the lying-in period, the departure of the mother from the home, and the welcoming of the child into the religious community. They emphasise the significance of the home as a setting of communal sociability and religious practice, and provide an important opportunity to consider the central place of the individual household within its congregation.

The chapter examines the changing urban landscape of the western Roman Empire and its successor states from approximately 300 to 600. It explores how cities evolved in response to shifting political, economic and social conditions, analysing archaeological evidence and urban-planning trends. The chapter begins with an overview of recent developments in the field and outlines the diverse trajectories of urban centres across the region. Of central importance is the gradual transition from classical urbanism to post-classical forms, marked by the loss and reuse of monumental structures, the fortification of cities and the adaptation of existing infrastructure. Rather than depicting urban change as a straightforward decline, the chapter argues that cities underwent complex transformations, with some centres experiencing contraction while others remained vibrant. It also illustrates how elite participation, religious shifts and administrative restructuring influenced the built environment. Furthermore, attention is given to the role of city walls, which were expanded or reinforced to accommodate new defensive needs. The reuse of materials, including spolia, became a defining feature of late antique architecture. By integrating textual and material evidence, the chapter provides a nuanced perspective on how cities adapted to the challenges of Late Antiquity, maintaining their significance despite profound structural changes.

This overview discusses the development of the catacombs of Rome, focusing on their architectural evolution and their role in Christian burial practices. Tracing the transformation of subterranean cemeteries from the late second to the fourth century, it argues that the catacombs were distinct from contemporary pagan hypogea. Unlike their pagan counterparts, Christian catacombs featured vast networks of interconnected tunnels, a structured layout designed for expansion, and an intensive use of subterranean space. A defining characteristic of these burial sites was the deliberate placement of tombs near those of martyrs, which in turn became focal points for pilgrimage and veneration. The Callixtus catacomb exemplifies this trend, as it was developed with carefully planned access points and designated areas for noble burials. The chapter also challenges earlier assumptions that pagans continued to use catacombs extensively after the legalisation of Christianity. Instead, it argues that these spaces became increasingly exclusive to Christian communities, serving as both burial grounds and sacred spaces that reinforced communal identity and the cult of the martyrs.

Conservatives claim that taxes in America are too high. Cross-national data and historical data from the United States raise serious doubts about this claim. As a percentage of GDP, the tax burden in America is low compared with many other advanced capitalist countries. Tax rates for individuals and corporations in America are also comparatively low. Yet conservatives have long complained that taxes in America are too high regardless of historical fluctuations in the tax burden and tax rates, and regardless of economic and geopolitical circumstances. Nowadays, about half of Americans believe that their own taxes are too high. Yet the overwhelming majority feel that taxes on corporations and the rich are too low and that they should be paying more, not less in taxes. Republicans and especially wealthy Republicans are the most likely to be concerned that taxes on corporations and the affluent are too high.