NOT ON OUR TURF: BARRIERS TO DEVELOPMENT - Why Nations Fail: The Origins of Power, Prosperity, and Poverty - Daron Acemoğlu, James A. Robinson

Why Nations Fail: The Origins of Power, Prosperity, and Poverty - Daron Acemoğlu, James A. Robinson (2012)

Chapter 8. NOT ON OUR TURF: BARRIERS TO DEVELOPMENT

NO PRINTING ALLOWED

IN 1445 IN THE GERMAN city of Mainz, Johannes Gutenberg unveiled an innovation with profound consequences for subsequent economic history: a printing press based on movable type. Until then, books either had to be hand-copied by scribes, a very slow and laborious process, or they were block-printed with specific pieces of wood cut for printing each page. Books were few and far between, and very expensive. After Gutenberg’s invention, things began to change. Books were printed and became more readily available. Without this innovation, mass literacy and education would have been impossible.

In Western Europe, the importance of the printing press was quickly recognized. In 1460 there was already a printing press across the border, in Strasbourg, France. By the late 1460s the technology had spread throughout Italy, with presses in Rome and Venice, soon followed by Florence, Milan, and Turin. By 1476 William Caxton had set up a printing press in London, and two years later there was one in Oxford. During the same period, printing spread throughout the Low Countries, into Spain, and even into Eastern Europe, with a press opening in Budapest in 1473 and in Cracow a year later.

Not everyone saw printing as a desirable innovation. As early as 1485 the Ottoman sultan Bayezid II issued an edict that Muslims were expressly forbidden from printing in Arabic. This rule was further reinforced by Sultan Selim I in 1515. It was not until 1727 that the first printing press was allowed in the Ottoman lands. Then Sultan Ahmed III issued a decree granting İbrahim Müteferrika permission to set up a press. Even this belated step was hedged with restraints. Though the decree noted “the fortunate day this Western technique will be unveiled like a bride and will not again be hidden,” Müteferrika’s printing was going to be closely monitored. The decree stated:

so that the printed books will be free from printing mistakes, the wise, respected and meritorious religious scholars specializing in Islamic Law, the excellent Kadi of Istanbul, Mevlana İshak, and Selaniki’s Kadi, Mevlana Sahib, and Galata’s Kadi, Mevlana Asad, may their merits be increased, and from the illustrious religious orders, the pillar of the righteous religious scholars, the Sheykh of the Kasim Paşa Mevlevihane, Mevlana Musa, may his wisdom and knowledge increase, will oversee the proofreading.

Müteferrika was allowed to set up a printing press, but whatever he printed had to be vetted by a panel of three religious and legal scholars, the Kadis. Maybe the wisdom and knowledge of the Kadis, like everybody else’s, would have increased much faster had the printing press been more readily available. But that was not to be, even after Müteferrika was given permission to set up his press.

Not surprisingly Müteferrika printed few books in the end, only seventeen between 1729, when the press began to operate, and 1743, when he stopped working. His family tried to continue the tradition, but they managed to print only another seven books by the time they finally gave up in 1797. Outside of the core of the Ottoman Empire in Turkey, printing lagged even further behind. In Egypt, for instance, the first printing press was set up only in 1798, by Frenchmen who were part of the abortive attempt by Napoleon Bonaparte to capture the country. Until well into the second half of the nineteenth century, book production in the Ottoman Empire was still primarily undertaken by scribes hand-copying existing books. In the early eighteenth century, there were reputed to be eighty thousand such scribes active in Istanbul.

This opposition to the printing press had the obvious consequences for literacy, education, and economic success. In 1800 probably only 2 to 3 percent of the citizens of the Ottoman Empire were literate, compared with 60 percent of adult males and 40 percent of adult females in England. In the Netherlands and Germany, literacy rates were even higher. The Ottoman lands lagged far behind the European countries with the lowest educational attainment in this period, such as Portugal, where probably only around 20 percent of adults could read and write.

Given the highly absolutist and extractive Ottoman institutions, the sultan’s hostility to the printing press is easy to understand. Books spread ideas and make the population much harder to control. Some of these ideas may be valuable new ways to increase economic growth, but others may be subversive and challenge the existing political and social status quo. Books also undermine the power of those who control oral knowledge, since they make that knowledge readily available to anyone who can master literacy. This threatened to undermine the existing status quo, where knowledge was controlled by elites. The Ottoman sultans and religious establishment feared the creative destruction that would result. Their solution was to forbid printing.

THE INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION created a critical juncture that affected almost every country. Some nations, such as England, not only allowed, but actively encouraged, commerce, industrialization, and entrepreneurship, and grew rapidly. Many, such as the Ottoman Empire, China, and other absolutist regimes, lagged behind as they blocked or at the very least did nothing to encourage the spread of industry. Political and economic institutions shaped the response to technological innovation, creating once again the familiar pattern of interaction between existing institutions and critical junctures leading to divergence in institutions and economic outcomes.

The Ottoman Empire remained absolutist until it collapsed at the end of the First World War, and was thus able to successfully oppose or impede innovations such as the printing press and the creative destruction that would have resulted. The reason that the economic changes that took place in England did not happen in the Ottoman Empire is the natural connection between extractive, absolutist political institutions and extractive economic institutions. Absolutism is rule unconstrained by law or the wishes of others, though in reality absolutists rule with the support of some small group or elite. In nineteenth-century Russia, for example, the tsars were absolutist rulers supported by a nobility that represented about 1 percent of the total population. This narrow group organized political institutions to perpetuate their power. There was no Parliament or political representation of other groups in Russian society until 1905, when the tsar created the Duma, though he quickly undermined what few powers he had given to it. Unsurprisingly, economic institutions were extractive, organized to make the tsar and nobility as wealthy as possible. The basis of this, as of many extractive economic systems, was a mass system of labor coercion and control, in the particularly pernicious form of Russian serfdom.

Absolutism was not the only type of political institution preventing industrialization. Though absolutist regimes were not pluralistic and feared creative destruction, many had centralized states, or at least states that were centralized enough to impose bans on innovations such as the printing press. Even today, countries such as Afghanistan, Haiti, and Nepal have national states that lack political centralization. In sub-Saharan Africa the situation is even worse. As we argued earlier, without a centralized state to provide order and enforce rules and property rights, inclusive institutions could not emerge. We will see in this chapter that in many parts of sub-Saharan Africa (for example, Somalia and southern Sudan) a major barrier to industrialization was the lack of any form of political centralization. Without these natural prerequisites, industrialization had no chance of getting off the ground.

Absolutism and a lack of, or weak, political centralization are two different barriers to the spread of industry. But they are also connected; both are kept in place by fear of creative destruction and because the process of political centralization often creates a tendency toward absolutism. Resistance to political centralization is motivated by reasons similar to resistance to inclusive political institutions: fear of losing political power, this time to the newly centralizing state and those who control it. We saw in the previous chapter how the process of political centralization under the Tudor monarchy in England increased demands for voice and representation by different local elites in national political institutions as a way of staving off this loss of political power. A stronger Parliament was created, ultimately enabling the emergence of inclusive political institutions.

But in many other cases, just the opposite takes place, and the process of political centralization also ushers in an era of greater absolutism. This is illustrated by the origins of Russian absolutism, which was forged by Peter the Great between 1682 and his death in 1725. Peter built a new capital at Saint Petersburg, stripping away power from the old aristocracy, the Boyars, in order to create a modern bureaucratic state and modern army. He even abolished the Boyar Duma that had made him tsar. Peter introduced the Table of Ranks, a completely new social hierarchy whose essence was service to the tsar. He also took control over the Church, just as Henry VIII did when centralizing the state in England. With this process of political centralization, Peter was taking power away from others and redirecting it toward himself. His military reforms led the traditional royal guards, the Streltsy, to rebel. Their revolt was followed by others, such as the Bashkirs in Central Asia and the Bulavin Rebellion. None succeeded.

Though Peter the Great’s project of political centralization was a success and the opposition was overcome, the type of forces that opposed state centralization, such as the Streltsy, who saw their power being challenged, won out in many parts of the world, and the resulting lack of state centralization meant the persistence of a different type of extractive political institutions.

In this chapter, we will see how during the critical juncture created by the Industrial Revolution, many nations missed the boat and failed to take advantage of the spread of industry. Either they had absolutist political and extractive economic institutions, as in the Ottoman Empire, or they lacked political centralization, as in Somalia.

A SMALL DIFFERENCE THAT MATTERED

Absolutism crumbled in England during the seventeenth century but got stronger in Spain. The Spanish equivalent of the English Parliament, the Cortes, existed in name only. Spain was forged in 1492 with the merger of the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon via the marriage of Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand. That date coincided with the end of the Reconquest, the long process of ousting the Arabs who had occupied the south of Spain, and built the great cities of Granada, Cordova, and Seville, since the eighth century. The last Arab state on the Iberian Peninsula, Granada, fell to Spain at the same time Christopher Columbus arrived in the Americas and started claiming lands for Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand, who had funded his voyage.

The merger of the crowns of Castile and Aragon and subsequent dynastic marriages and inheritances created a European superstate. Isabella died in 1504, and her daughter Joanna was crowned queen of Castile. Joanna was married to Philip of the House of Habsburg, the son of the emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, Maximilian I. In 1516 Charles, Joanna and Philip’s son, was crowned Charles I of Castile and Aragon. When his father died, Charles inherited the Netherlands and Franche-Comté, which he added to his territories in Iberia and the Americas. In 1519, when Maximilian I died, Charles also inherited the Habsburg territories in Germany and became Emperor Charles V of the Holy Roman Empire. What had been a merger of two Spanish kingdoms in 1492 became a multicontinental empire, and Charles continued the project of strengthening the absolutist state that Isabella and Ferdinand had begun.

The effort to build and consolidate absolutism in Spain was massively aided by the discovery of precious metals in the Americas. Silver had already been discovered in large quantities in Guanajuato, in Mexico, by the 1520s, and soon thereafter in Zacatecas, Mexico. The conquest of Peru after 1532 created even more wealth for the monarchy. This came in the form of a share, the “royal fifth,” in any loot from conquest and also from mines. As we saw in chapter 1, a mountain of silver was discovered in Potosí by the 1540s, pouring more wealth into the coffers of the Spanish king.

At the time of the merger of Castile and Aragon, Spain was among the most economically successful parts of Europe. After its absolutist political system solidified, it went into relative and then, after 1600, absolute economic decline. Almost the first acts of Isabella and Ferdinand after the Reconquest was the expropriation of the Jews. The approximately two hundred thousand Jews in Spain were given four months to leave. They had to sell off all their land and assets at very low prices and were not allowed to take any gold or silver out of the country. A similar human tragedy was played out just over one hundred years later. Between 1609 and 1614, Philip III expelled the Moriscos, the descendants of the citizens of the former Arab states in the south of Spain. Just as with the Jews, the Moriscos had to leave with only what they could carry and were not allowed to take with them any gold, silver, or other precious metals.

Property rights were insecure in other dimensions under Habsburg rule in Spain. Philip II, who succeeded his father, Charles V, in 1556, defaulted on his debts in 1557 and again in 1560, ruining the Fugger and Welser banking families. The role of the German banking families was then assumed by Genoese banking families, who were in turn ruined by subsequent Spanish defaults during the reign of the Habsburgs in 1575, 1596, 1607, 1627, 1647, 1652, 1660, and 1662.

Just as crucial as the instability of property rights in absolutist Spain was the impact of absolutism on the economic institutions of trade and the development of the Spanish colonial empire. As we saw in the previous chapter, the economic success of England was based on rapid mercantile expansion. Though, compared with Spain and Portugal, England was a latecomer to Atlantic trade, she allowed for relatively broad-based participation in trading and colonial opportunities. What filled the Crown’s coffers in Spain enriched the newly emerging merchant class in England. It was this merchant class that would form the basis of early England economic dynamism and become the bulwark of the anti-absolutist political coalition.

In Spain these processes that led to economic progress and institutional change did not take place. After the Americas had been discovered, Isabella and Ferdinand organized trade between their new colonies and Spain via a guild of merchants in Seville. These merchants controlled all trade and made sure that the monarchy got its share of the wealth of the Americas. There was no free trade with any of the colonies, and each year a large flotilla of ships would return from the Americas bringing precious metals and valuable goods to Seville. The narrow, monopolized base of this trade meant that no broad class of merchants could emerge via trading opportunities with the colonies. Even trade within the Americas was heavily regulated. For example, a merchant in a colony such as New Spain, roughly modern Mexico, could not trade directly with anyone in New Granada, modern Colombia. These restrictions on trade within the Spanish Empire reduced its economic prosperity and also, indirectly, the potential benefits that Spain could have gained by trading with another, more prosperous empire. Nevertheless, they were attractive because they guaranteed that the silver and gold would keep flowing to Spain.

The extractive economic institutions of Spain were a direct result of the construction of absolutism and the different path, compared with England, taken by political institutions. Both the Kingdom of Castile and the Kingdom of Aragon had their Cortes, a parliament representing the different groups, or “estates,” of the kingdom. As with the English Parliament, the Castilian Cortes needed to be summoned to assent to new taxes. Nevertheless, the Cortes in Castile and Aragon primarily represented the major cities, rather than both the urban and rural areas, as the English Parliament did. By the fifteenth century, it represented only eighteen cities, each of whom sent two deputies. In consequence, the Cortes did not represent as broad a set of groups as the English Parliament did, and it never developed as a nexus of diverse interests vying to place constraints on absolutism. It could not legislate, and even the scope of its powers with respect to taxation was limited. This all made it easier for the Spanish monarchy to sideline the Cortes in the process of consolidating its own absolutism. Even with silver coming from the Americas, Charles V and Philip II required ever-increasing tax revenues to finance a series of expensive wars. In 1520 Charles V decided to present the Cortes with demands for increased taxation. Urban elites used the moment to call for much wider change in the Cortes and its powers. This opposition turned violent and quickly became known as the Comunero Rebellion. Charles was able to crush the rebellion with loyal troops. Throughout the rest of the sixteenth century, though, there was a continuous battle as the Crown tried to wrest away from the Cortes what rights to levy new taxes and increase old ones that it had. Though this battle ebbed and flowed, it was ultimately won by the monarchy. After 1664 the Cortes did not meet again until it would be reconstructed during the Napoleonic invasions almost 150 years later.

In England the defeat of absolutism in 1688 led not only to pluralistic political institutions but also to the further development of a much more effective centralized state. In Spain the opposite happened as absolutism triumphed. Though the monarchy emasculated the Cortes and removed any potential constraints on its behavior, it became increasingly difficult to raise taxes, even when attempted by direct negotiations with individual cities. While the English state was creating a modern, efficient tax bureaucracy, the Spanish state was again moving in the opposite direction. The monarchy was not only failing to create secure property rights for entrepreneurs and monopolizing trade, but it was also selling offices, often making them hereditary, indulging in tax farming, and even selling immunity from justice.

The consequences of these extractive political and economic institutions in Spain were predictable. During the seventeenth century, while England was moving toward commercial growth and then rapid industrialization, Spain was tailspinning toward widespread economic decline. At the start of the century, one in five people in Spain was living in urban areas. By the end, this figure had halved to one in ten, in a process that corresponded to increasing impoverishment of the Spanish population. Spanish incomes fell, while England grew rich.

The persistence and the strengthening of absolutism in Spain, while it was being uprooted in England, is another example of small differences mattering during critical junctures. The small differences were in the strengths and nature of representative institutions; the critical juncture was the discovery of the Americas. The interaction of these sent Spain off on a very different institutional path from England. The relatively inclusive economic institutions that resulted in England created unprecedented economic dynamism, culminating in the Industrial Revolution, while industrialization did not stand a chance in Spain. By the time industrial technology was spreading in many parts of the world, the Spanish economy had declined so much that there was not even a need for the Crown or the land-owning elites in Spain to block industrialization.

FEAR OF INDUSTRY

Without the changes in political institutions and political power similar to those that emerged in England after 1688, there was little chance for absolutist countries to benefit from the innovations and new technologies of the Industrial Revolution. In Spain, for example, the lack of secure property rights and the widespread economic decline meant that people simply did not have the incentive to make the necessary investments and sacrifices. In Russia and Austria-Hungary, it wasn’t simply the neglect and mismanagement of the elites and the insidious economic slide under extractive institutions that prevented industrialization; instead, the rulers actively blocked any attempt to introduce these technologies and basic investments in infrastructure such as railroads that could have acted as their conduits.

At the time of the Industrial Revolution, in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the political map of Europe was quite different from how it is today. The Holy Roman Empire, a patchwork quilt of more than four hundred polities, most of which would eventually coalesce into Germany, occupied most of Central Europe. The House of Habsburg was still a major political force, and its empire, known as the Habsburg or Austro-Hungarian Empire, spread over a vast area of around 250,000 square miles, even if it no longer included Spain, after the Bourbons had taken over the Spanish throne in 1700. In terms of population, it was the third-largest state in Europe and comprised one-seventh of the population of Europe. In the late eighteenth century the Habsburg lands included, in the west, what is today Belgium, then known as the Austrian Netherlands. The largest part, however, was the contiguous block of lands based around Austria and Hungary, including the Czech Republic and Slovakia to the north, and Slovenia, Croatia, and large parts of Italy and Serbia to the south. To the east it also incorporated much of what is today Romania and Poland.

Merchants in the Habsburg domains were much less important than in England, and serfdom prevailed in the lands in Eastern Europe. As we saw in chapter 4, Hungary and Poland were at the heart of the Second Serfdom of Eastern Europe. The Habsburgs, unlike the Stuarts, were successful in sustaining strongly absolutist rule. Francis I, who ruled as the last emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, between 1792 and 1806, and then emperor of Austria-Hungary until his death in 1835, was a consummate absolutist. He did not recognize any limitations on his power and, above all, he wished to preserve the political status quo. His basic strategy was opposing change, any sort of change. In 1821 he made this clear in a speech, characteristic of Habsburg rulers, he gave to the teachers at a school in Laibach, asserting, “I do not need savants, but good, honest citizens. Your task is to bring young men up to be this. He who serves me must teach what I order him. If anyone can’t do this, or comes with new ideas, he can go, or I will remove him.”

The empress Maria Theresa, who reigned between 1740 and 1780, frequently responded to suggestions about how to improve or change institutions by remarking. “Leave everything as it is.” Nevertheless, she and her son Joseph II, who was emperor between 1780 and 1790, were responsible for an attempt to construct a more powerful central state and more effective administrative system. Yet they did this in the context of a political system with no real constraints on their actions and with few elements of pluralism. There was no national parliament that would exert even a modicum of control on the monarch, only a system of regional estates and diets, which historically had some powers with respect to taxation and military recruitment. There were even fewer controls on what the Austro-Hungarian Habsburgs could do than there were on Spanish monarchs, and political power was narrowly concentrated.

As Habsburg absolutism strengthened in the eighteenth century, the power of all non-monarchical institutions weakened further. When a deputation of citizens from the Austrian province of the Tyrol petitioned Francis for a constitution, he responded, “So, you want a constitution! … Now look, I don’t care for it, I will give you a constitution but you must know that the soldiers obey me, and I will not ask you twice if I need money … In any case I advise you to be careful what you are going to say.” Given this response, the Tyrolese leaders replied, “If thou thinkest thus, it is better to have no constitution,” to which Francis answered, “That is also my opinion.”

Francis dissolved the State Council that Maria Theresa had used as a forum for consultation with her ministers. From then on there would be no consultation or public discussion of the Crown’s decisions. Francis created a police state and ruthlessly censored anything that could be regarded as mildly radical. His philosophy of rule was characterized by Count Hartig, a long-standing aide, as the “unabated maintenance of the sovereign’s authority, and a denial of all claims on the part of the people to a participation in that authority.” He was helped in all this by Prince von Metternich, appointed as his foreign minister in 1809. Metternich’s power and influence actually outlasted that of Francis, and he remained foreign minister for almost forty years.

At the center of Habsburg economic institutions stood the feudal order and serfdom. As one moved east within the empire, feudalism became more intense, a reflection of the more general gradient in economic institutions we saw in chapter 4, as one moved from Western to Eastern Europe. Labor mobility was highly circumscribed, and emigration was illegal. When the English philanthropist Robert Owen tried to convince the Austrian government to adopt some social reforms in order to ameliorate the conditions of poor people, one of Metternich’s assistants, Friedrich von Gentz, replied, “We do not desire at all that the great masses shall become well off and independent … How could we otherwise rule over them?”

In addition to serfdom, which completely blocked the emergence of a labor market and removed the economic incentives or initiative from the mass of the rural population, Habsburg absolutism thrived on monopolies and other restrictions on trade. The urban economy was dominated by guilds, which restricted entry into professions. Until 1775 there were internal tariffs within Austria itself and in Hungary until 1784. There were very high tariffs on imported goods, with many explicit prohibitions on the import and export of goods.

The suppression of markets and the creation of extractive economic institutions are of course quite characteristic of absolutism, but Francis went further. It was not simply that extractive economic institutions removed the incentive for individuals to innovate or adopt new technology. We saw in chapter 2 how in the Kingdom of Kongo attempts to promote the use of plows were unsuccessful because people lacked any incentive, given the extractive nature of the economic institutions. The king of Kongo realized that if he could induce people to use plows, agricultural productivity would be higher, generating more wealth, which he could benefit from. This is a potential incentive for all governments, even absolutist ones. The problem in Kongo was that people understood that whatever they produced could be confiscated by an absolutist monarch, and therefore they had no incentive to invest or use better technology. In the Habsburg lands, Francis did not encourage his citizens to adopt better technology; on the contrary, he actually opposed it, and blocked the dissemination of technologies that people would have been otherwise willing to adopt with the existing economic institutions.

Opposition to innovation was manifested in two ways. First, Francis I was opposed to the development of industry. Industry led to factories, and factories would concentrate poor workers in cities, particularly in the capital city of Vienna. Those workers might then become supporters for opponents of absolutism. His policies were aimed at locking into place the traditional elites and the political and economic status quo. He wanted to keep society primarily agrarian. The best way to do this, Francis believed, was to stop the factories being built in the first place. This he did directly—for instance, in 1802, banning the creation of new factories in Vienna. Instead of encouraging the importation and adoption of new machinery, the basis of industrialization, he banned it until 1811.

Second, he opposed the construction of railways, one of the key new technologies that came with the Industrial Revolution. When a plan to build a northern railway was put before Francis I, he replied, “No, no, I will have nothing to do with it, lest the revolution might come into the country.”

Since the government would not grant a concession to build a steam railway, the first railway built in the empire had to use horse-drawn carriages. The line, which ran between the city of Linz, on the Danube, to the Bohemian city of Budweis, on the Moldau River, was built with gradients and corners, which meant that it was impossible subsequently to convert it to steam engines. So it continued with horse power until the 1860s. The economic potential for railway development in the empire had been sensed early by the banker Salomon Rothschild, the representative in Vienna of the great banking family. Salomon’s brother Nathan, who was based in England, was very impressed by George Stephenson’s engine “The Rocket” and the potential for steam locomotion. He contacted his brother to encourage him to look for opportunities to develop railways in Austria, since he believed that the family could make large profits by financing railway development. Nathan agreed, but the scheme went nowhere because Emperor Francis again simply said no.

The opposition to industry and steam railways stemmed from Francis’s concern about the creative destruction that accompanied the development of a modern economy. His main priorities were ensuring the stability of the extractive institutions over which he ruled and protecting the advantages of the traditional elites who supported him. Not only was there little to gain from industrialization, which would undermine the feudal order by attracting labor from the countryside to the cities, but Francis also recognized the threat that major economic changes would pose to his political power. As a consequence, he blocked industry and economic progress, locking in economic backwardness, which manifested itself in many ways. For instance, as late as 1883, when 90 percent of world iron output was produced using coal, more than half of the output in the Habsburg territories still used much less efficient charcoal. Similarly, right up to the First World War, when the empire collapsed, textile weaving was never fully mechanized but still undertaken by hand.

Austria-Hungary was not alone in fearing industry. Farther east, Russia had an equally absolutist set of political institutions, forged by Peter the Great, as we saw earlier in this chapter. Like Austria-Hungary, Russia’s economic institutions were highly extractive, based on serfdom, keeping at least half of the population tied to the land. Serfs had to work for nothing three days a week on the lands of their lords. They could not move, they lacked freedom of occupation, and they could be sold at will by their lord to another lord. The radical philosopher Peter Kropotkin, one of the founders of modern anarchism, left a vivid depiction of the way serfdom worked during the reign of Tsar Nicholas I, who ruled Russia from 1825 until 1855. He recalled from his childhood

stories of men and women torn from their families and their villages and sold, lost in gambling, or exchanged for a couple of hunting dogs, and transported to some remote part of Russia … of children taken from their parents and sold to cruel or dissolute masters; of flogging “in the stables,” which occurred every day with unheard of cruelty; of a girl who found her only salvation in drowning herself; of an old man who had grown grey-haired in his master’s service and at last hanged himself under his master’s window; and of revolts of serfs, which were suppressed by Nicholas I’s generals by flogging to death each tenth or fifth man taken out of the ranks, and by laying waste the village … As to the poverty which I saw during our journeys in certain villages, especially in those which belonged to the imperial family, no words would be adequate to describe the misery to readers who have not seen it.

Exactly as in Austria-Hungary, absolutism didn’t just create a set of economic institutions that impeded the prosperity of the society. There was a similar fear of creative destruction and a fear of industry and the railways. At the heart of this during the reign of Nicholas I was Count Egor Kankrin, who served as finance minister between 1823 and 1844 and played a key role in opposing the changes in society necessary for promoting economic prosperity.

Kankrin’s policies were aimed at strengthening the traditional political pillars of the regime, particularly the landed aristocracy, and keeping the society rural and agrarian. Upon becoming minister of finance, Kankrin quickly opposed and reversed a proposal by the previous finance minister, Gurev, to develop a government-owned Commercial Bank to lend to industry. Instead, Kankrin reopened the State Loan Bank, which had been closed during the Napoleonic Wars. This bank was originally created to lend to large landowners at subsidized rates, a policy Kankrin approved of. The loans required the applicants to put up serfs as “security,” or collateral, so that only feudal landowners could get such loans. To finance the State Loan Bank, Kankrin transferred assets from the Commercial Bank, killing two birds with one stone: there would now be little money left for industry.

Kankrin’s attitudes were presciently shaped by the fear that economic change would bring political change, and so were those of Tsar Nicholas. Nicholas’s assumption of power in December 1825 had been almost aborted by an attempted coup by military officers, the so-called Decembrists, who had a radical program of social change. Nicholas wrote to Grand Duke Mikhail: “Revolution is on Russia’s doorstep, but I swear that it will not penetrate the country while there is breath in my body.”

Nicholas feared the social changes that creating a modern economy would bring. As he put it in a speech he made to a meeting of manufacturers at an industrial exhibit in Moscow:

both the state and manufacturers must turn their attention to a subject, without which the very factories would become an evil rather than a blessing; this is the care of the workers who increase in number annually. They need energetic and paternal supervision of their morals; without it this mass of people will gradually be corrupted and eventually turn into a class as miserable as they are dangerous for their masters.

Just as with Francis I, Nicholas feared that the creative destruction unleashed by a modern industrial economy would undermine the political status quo in Russia. Urged on by Nicholas, Kankrin took specific steps to slow the potential for industry. He banned several industrial exhibitions, which had previously been held periodically to showcase new technology and facilitate technology adoption.

In 1848 Europe was rocked by a series of revolutionary outbursts. In response, A. A. Zakrevskii, the military governor of Moscow, who was in charge of maintaining public order, wrote to Nicholas: “For the preservation of calm and prosperity, which at present time only Russia enjoys, the government must not permit the gathering of homeless and dissolute people, who will easily join every movement, destroying social or private peace.” His advice was brought before Nicholas’s ministers, and in 1849 a new law was enacted that put severe limits on the number of factories that could be opened in any part of Moscow. It specifically forbade the opening of any new cotton or woolen spinning mills and iron foundries. Other industries, such as weaving and dyeing, had to petition the military governor if they wanted to open new factories. Eventually cotton spinning was explicitly banned. The law was intended to stop any further concentration of potentially rebellious workers in the city.

Opposition to railways accompanied opposition to industry, exactly as in Austria-Hungary. Before 1842 there was only one railway in Russia. This was the Tsarskoe Selo Railway, which ran seventeen miles from Saint Petersburg to the imperial residencies of Tsarskoe Selo and Pavlovsk. Just as Kankrin opposed industry, he saw no reason to promote railways, which he argued would bring a socially dangerous mobility, noting that “railways do not always result from natural necessity, but are more an object of artificial need or luxury. They encourage unnecessary travel from place to place, which is entirely typical of our time.”

Kankrin turned down numerous bids to build railways, and it was only in 1851 that a line was built linking Moscow and Saint Petersburg. Kankrin’s policy was continued by Count Kleinmichel, who was made head of the main administration of Transport and Public Buildings. This institution became the main arbiter of railway construction, and Kleinmichel used it as a platform to discourage their construction. After 1849 he even used his power to censor discussion in the newspapers of railway development.

Map 13 (opposite) shows the consequences of this logic. While Britain and most of northwest Europe was crisscrossed with railways in 1870, very few penetrated the vast territory of Russia. The policy against railways was only reversed after Russia’s conclusive defeat by British, French, and Ottoman forces in the Crimean War, 1853-1856, when the backwardness of its transportation network was understood to be a serious liability for Russian security. There was also little railway development in Austria-Hungary outside of Austria and the western parts of the empire, though the 1848 Revolutions had brought change to these territories, particularly the abolition of serfdom.

NO SHIPPING ALLOWED

Absolutism reigned not just in much of Europe but also in Asia, and similarly prevented industrialization during the critical juncture created by the Industrial Revolution. The Ming and Qing dynasties of China and the absolutism of the Ottoman Empire illustrate this pattern. Under the Song dynasty, between 960 and 1279, China led the world in many technological innovations. The Chinese invented clocks, the compass, gunpowder, paper and paper money, porcelain, and blast furnaces to make cast iron before Europe did. They independently developed spinning wheels and waterpower at more or less the same time that these emerged at the other end of Eurasia. In consequence, in 1500 standards of living were probably at least as high in China as they were in Europe. For centuries China also had a centralized state with a meritocratically recruited civil service.

Yet China was absolutist, and the growth under the Song dynasty was under extractive institutions. There was no political representation for groups other than the monarchy in society, nothing resembling a Parliament or a Cortes. Merchants always had a precarious status in China, and the great inventions of the Song were not spurred by market incentives but were brought into existence under the auspices, or even the orders, of the government. Little of this was commercialized. The grip of the state tightened during the Ming and Qing dynasties that followed the Song. At the root of all this was the usual logic of extractive institutions. As most rulers presiding over extractive institutions, the absolutist emperors of China opposed change, sought stability, and in essence feared creative destruction.

This is best illustrated by the history of international trade. As we have seen, the discovery of the Americas and the way international trade was organized played a key role in the political conflicts and institutional changes of early modern Europe. In China, while private merchants were commonly involved in trade within the country, the state monopolized overseas trade. When the Ming dynasty came to power in 1368, it was Emperor Hongwu who first ruled, for thirty years. Hongwu was concerned that overseas trade would be politically and socially destabilizing and he allowed international trade to take place only if it were organized by the government and only if it involved tribute giving, and not commercial activity. Hongwu even executed hundreds of people accused of trying to turn tribute missions into commercial ventures. Between 1377 and 1397, no oceangoing tribute missions were allowed. He banned private individuals from trading with foreigners and would not allow Chinese to sail overseas.

In 1402 Emperor Yongle came to the throne and initiated one of the most famous periods of Chinese history by restarting government-sponsored foreign trade on a big scale. Yongle sponsored Admiral Zheng He to undertake six huge missions to Southeast and South Asia, Arabia, and Africa. The Chinese knew about these places from a long history of trading relations, but nothing had ever happened on this scale before. The first fleet included 27,800 men and 62 large treasure ships, accompanied by 190 smaller ships, including ones specifically for carrying freshwater, others for supplies, and others for troops. Yet Emperor Yongle put a temporary stop on the missions after the sixth one in 1422. This was made permanent by his successor, Hongxi, who ruled from 1424 to 1425. Hongxi’s premature death brought to the throne Emperor Xuande, who at first allowed Zheng He a final mission, in 1433. But after this, all overseas trade was banned. By 1436 the construction of seagoing ships was even made illegal. The ban on overseas trade was not lifted until 1567.

These events, though only the tip of the extractive iceberg that prevented many economic activities deemed to be potentially destabilizing, were to have a fundamental impact on Chinese economic development. Just at the time when international trade and the discovery of the Americas were fundamentally transforming the institutions of England, China was cutting itself off from this critical juncture and turning inward. This inward turn did not end in 1567. The Ming dynasty was overrun in 1644 by the Jurchen people, the Manchus of inner Asia, who created the Qing dynasty. A period of intense political instability then ensued. The Qings engaged in mass expropriation of property and assets. In the 1690s, T’ang Chen, a retired Chinese scholar and failed merchant, wrote:

More than fifty years have passed since the founding of the Ch’ing [Qing] dynasty, and the empire grows poorer each day. Farmers are destitute, artisans are destitute, merchants are destitute, and officials too are destitute. Grain is cheap, yet it is hard to eat one’s fill. Cloth is cheap, yet it is hard to cover one’s skin. Boatloads of goods travel from one marketplace to another, but the cargoes must be sold at a loss. Officials upon leaving their posts discover they have no wherewithal to support their households. Indeed the four occupations are all impoverished.

In 1661 the emperor Kangxi ordered that all people living along the coast from Vietnam to Chekiang—essentially the entire southern coast, once the most commercially active part of China—should move seventeen miles inland. The coast was patrolled by troops to enforce the measure, and until 1693 there was a ban on shipping everywhere on the coast. This ban was periodically reimposed in the eighteenth century, effectively stunting the emergence of Chinese overseas trade. Though some did develop, few were willing to invest when the emperor could suddenly change his mind and ban trade, making investments in ships, equipment, and trading relations worthless or even worse.

The reasoning of the Ming and Qing states for opposing international trade is by now familiar: the fear of creative destruction. The leaders’ primary aim was political stability. International trade was potentially destabilizing as merchants were enriched and emboldened, as they were in England during the era of Atlantic expansion. This was not just what the rulers believed during the Ming and Qing dynasties, but also the attitude of the rulers of the Song dynasty, even if they were willing to sponsor technological innovations and permit greater commercial freedom, provided that this was under their control. Things got worse under the Ming and Qing dynasties as the control of the state on economic activity tightened and overseas trade was banned. There were certainly markets and trade in Ming and Qing China, and the government taxed the domestic economy quite lightly. However, it did little to support innovation, and it exchanged the development of mercantile or industrial prosperity for political stability. The consequence of all this absolutist control of the economy was predictable: the Chinese economy was stagnant throughout the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries while other economies were industrializing. By the time Mao set up his communist regime in 1949, China had become one of the poorest countries in the world.

THE ABSOLUTISM OF PRESTER JOHN

Absolutism as a set of political institutions and the economic consequences that flowed from it were not restricted to Europe and Asia. It was present in Africa, for example, with the Kingdom of Kongo, as we saw in chapter 2. An even more durable example of African absolutism is Ethiopia, or Abyssinia, whose roots we came across in chapter 6, when we discussed the emergence of feudalism after the decline of Aksum. Abyssinian absolutism was even more long-lived than its European counterparts, because it was faced with very different challenges and critical junctures.

After the conversion of the Aksumite king Ezana to Christianity, the Ethiopians remained Christian, and by the fourteenth century they had become the focus of the myth of King Prester John. Prester John was a Christian king who had been cut off from Europe by the rise of Islam in the Middle East. Initially his kingdom was thought to be located in India. However, as European knowledge of India increased, people realized that this was not true. The king of Ethiopia, since he was a Christian, then became a natural target for the myth. Ethiopian kings in fact tried hard to forge alliances with European monarchs against Arab invasions, sending diplomatic missions to Europe from at least 1300 onward, even persuading the Portuguese king to send soldiers.

These soldiers, along with diplomats, Jesuits, and travelers wishing to meet Prester John, left many accounts of Ethiopia. Some of the most interesting from an economic point of view are by Francisco Álvares, a chaplain accompanying a Portuguese diplomatic mission, who was in Ethiopia from 1520 to 1527. In addition, there are accounts by Jesuit Manoel de Almeida, who lived in Ethiopia from 1624, and by John Bruce, a traveler who was in the country between 1768 and 1773. The writings of these people give a rich account of political and economic institutions at the time in Ethiopia and leave no doubt that Ethiopia was a perfect specimen of absolutism. There were no pluralistic institutions of any kind, nor any checks and constraints on the power of the emperor, who claimed the right to rule on the basis of supposed descent from the legendary King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba.

The consequence of absolutism was great insecurity of property rights driven by the political strategy of the emperor. Bruce, for example, noted that

all the land is the king’s; he gives it to whom he pleases during pleasure, and resumes it when it is his will. As soon as he dies the whole land in the kingdom is at the disposal of the Crown; and not only so, but, by death of the present owner, his possessions however long enjoyed, revert to the king, and do not fall to the eldest son.

Álvares claimed there would be much more “fruit and tillage if the great men did not ill-treat the people.” Alameida’s account of how the society worked is very consistent. He observed:

It is so usual for the emperor to exchange, alter and take away the lands each man holds every two or three years, sometimes every year and even many times in the course of a year, that it causes no surprise. Often one man plows the soil, another sows it and another reaps. Hence it arises that there is no one who takes care of the land he enjoys; there is not even anyone to plant a tree because he knows that he who plants it very rarely gathers the fruit. For the king, however, it is useful that they should be so dependent upon him.

These descriptions suggest major similarities between the political and economic structures of Ethiopia and those of European absolutism, though they also make it clear that absolutism was more intense in Ethiopia, and economic institutions even more extractive. Moreover, as we emphasized in chapter 6, Ethiopia was not subject to the same critical junctures that helped undermine the absolutist regime in England. It was cut off from many of the processes that shaped the modern world. Even if this had not been the case, the intensity of its absolutism would probably have led the absolutism to strengthen even more. For example, as in Spain, international trade in Ethiopia, including the lucrative slave trade, was controlled by the monarch. Ethiopia was not completely isolated: Europeans did search for Prester John, and it did have to fight wars against surrounding Islamic polities. Nevertheless, the historian Edward Gibbon noted with some accuracy that “encompassed on all sides by the enemies of their religion, the Aethiopians slept near a thousand years, forgetful of the world by whom they were forgotten.”

As the European colonization of Africa began in the nineteenth century, Ethiopia was an independent kingdom under Ras (Duke) Kassa, who was crowned Emperor Tewodros II in 1855. Tewodros embarked on a modernization of the state, creating a more centralized bureaucracy and judiciary, and a military capable of controlling the country and possibly fighting the Europeans. He placed military governors, responsible for collecting taxes and remitting them to him, in charge of all the provinces. His negotiations with European powers were difficult, and in exasperation he imprisoned the English consul. In 1868 the English sent an expeditionary force, which sacked his capital. Tewodros committed suicide.

All the same, Tewodros’s reconstructed government did manage to pull off one of the great anticolonial triumphs of the nineteenth century, against the Italians. In 1889 the throne went to Menelik II, who was immediately faced with the interest of Italy in establishing a colony there. In 1885 the German chancellor Bismarck had convened a conference in Berlin where the European powers hatched the “Scramble for Africa”—that is, they decided how to divide up Africa into different spheres of interest. At the conference, Italy secured its rights to colonies in Eritrea, along the coast of Ethiopia, and Somalia. Ethiopia, though not represented at the conference, somehow managed to survive intact. But the Italians still kept designs, and in 1896 they marched an army south from Eritrea. Menelik’s response was similar to that of a European medieval king; he formed an army by getting the nobility to call up their armed men. This approach could not put an army in the field for long, but it could put a huge one together for a short time. This short time was just enough to defeat the Italians, whose fifteen thousand men were overwhelmed by Menelik’s one hundred thousand in the Battle of Adowa in 1896. It was the most serious military defeat a precolonial African country was able to inflict on a European power, and secured Ethiopia’s independence for another forty years.

The last emperor of Ethiopia, Ras Tafari, was crowned Haile Selassie in 1930. Haile Selassie ruled until he was overthrown by a second Italian invasion, which began in 1935, but he returned from exile with the help of the English in 1941. He then ruled until he was overthrown in a 1974 coup by the Derg, “the Committee,” a group of Marxist army officers, who then proceeded to further impoverish and ravage the country. The basic extractive economic institutions of the absolutist Ethiopian empire, such as gult (this page), and the feudalism created after the decline of Aksum, lasted until they were abolished after the 1974 revolution.

Today Ethiopia is one of the poorest countries in the world. The income of an average Ethiopian is about one-fortieth that of an average citizen of England. Most people live in rural areas and practice subsistence agriculture. They lack clean water, electricity, and access to proper schools or health care. Life expectancy is about fifty-five years and only one-third of adults are literate. A comparison between England and Ethiopia spans world inequality. The reason Ethiopia is where it is today is that, unlike in England, in Ethiopia absolutism persisted until the recent past. With absolutism came extractive economic institutions and poverty for the mass of Ethiopians, though of course the emperors and nobility benefited hugely. But the most enduring implication of the absolutism was that Ethiopian society failed to take advantage of industrialization opportunities during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, underpinning the abject poverty of its citizens today.

THE CHILDREN OF SAMAALE

Absolutist political institutions around the world impeded industrialization either indirectly, in the way they organized the economy, or directly, as we have seen in Austria-Hungary and Russia. But absolutism was not the only barrier to the emergence of inclusive economic institutions. At the dawn of the nineteenth century, many parts of the world, especially in Africa, lacked a state that could provide even a minimal degree of law and order, which is a prerequisite for having a modern economy. There was not the equivalent of Peter the Great in Russia starting the process of political centralization and then forging Russian absolutism, let alone that of the Tudors in England centralizing the state without fully destroying—or, more appropriately, without fully being able to destroy—the Parliament and other constraints on their power. Without some degree of political centralization, even if the elites of these African polities had wished to greet industrialization with open arms, there wouldn’t have been much they could have done.

Somalia, situated in the Horn of Africa, illustrates the devastating effects of lack of political centralization. Somalia has been dominated historically by people organized into six clan families. The four largest of these, the Dir, Darod, Isaq, and Hawiye, all trace their ancestry back to a mythical ancestor, Samaale. These clan families originated in the north of Somalia and gradually spread south and east, and are even today primarily pastoral people who migrate with their flocks of goats, sheep, and camels. In the south, the Digil and the Rahanweyn, sedentary agriculturalists, make up the last two of the clan families. The territories of these clans are depicted on Map 12.

Somalis identify first with their clan family, but these are very large and contain many subgroups. First among these are clans that trace their descent back to one of the larger clan families. More significant are the groupings within clans called diya-paying groups, which consist of closely related kinspeople who pay and collect diya, or “blood wealth,” compensation against the murder of one of their members. Somali clans and diya-paying groups were historically locked in to almost continual conflict over the scarce resources at their disposal, particularly water sources and good grazing land for their animals. They also constantly raided the herds of neighboring clans and diya-paying groups. Though clans had leaders called sultans, and also elders, these people had no real power. Political power was very widely dispersed, with every Somali adult man being able to have his say on decisions that might affect the clan or group. This was achieved through an informal council made up of all adult males. There was no written law, no police, and no legal system to speak of, except that Sharia law was used as a framework within which informal laws were embedded. These informal laws for a diya-paying group would be encoded in what was called a heer, a body of explicitly formulated obligations, rights, and duties the group demanded others obey in their interactions with the group. With the advent of colonial rule, these heers began to be written down. For example, the Hassan Ugaas lineage formed a diya-paying group of about fifteen hundred men and was a subclan of the Dir clan family in British Somaliland. On March 8, 1950, their heer was recorded by the British district commissioner, the first three clauses of which read

1. When a man of the Hassan Ugaas is murdered by an external group twenty camels of his blood wealth (100) will be taken by his next of kin and the remaining eighty camels shared amongst all the Hassan Ugaas.

2. If a man of the Hassan Ugaas is wounded by an outsider and his injuries are valued at thirty-three-and-a-third camels, ten camels must be given to him and the remained to his jiffo-group (a sub-group of the diya group).

3. Homicide amongst members of the Hassan Ugaas is subject to compensation at the rate of thirty-three-and-a-third camels, payable only to the deceased’s next of kin. If the culprit is unable to pay all or part, he will be assisted by his lineage.

The heavy focus of the heer on killing and wounding reflects the almost constant state of warfare between diya-paying groups and clans. Central to this was blood wealth and blood feuding. A crime against a particular person was a crime against the whole diya-paying group, and necessitated collective compensation, blood wealth. If such blood wealth was not paid, the diya-paying group of the person who had committed the crime faced the collective retribution of the victim. When modern transportation reached Somalia, blood wealth was extended to people who were killed or injured in motor accidents. The Hassan Ugaas’s heer didn’t refer only to murder; clause 6 was “If one man of the Hassan Ugaas insults another at a Hassan Ugaas council he shall pay 150 shillings to the offended party.”

In early 1955, the flocks of two clans, the Habar Tol Ja’lo and the Habar Yuunis, were grazing close to each other in the region of Domberelly. A man from the Yuunis was wounded after a dispute with a member of the Tol Ja’lo over camel herding. The Yuunis clan immediately retaliated, attacking the Tol Ja’lo clan and killing a man. This death led, following the code of blood wealth, to the Yuunis clan offering compensation to the Tol Ja’lo clan, which was accepted. The blood wealth was to be handed over in person, as usual in the form of camels. At the handing-over ceremony, one of the Tol Ja’lo killed a member of the Yuunis, mistaking him for a member of the diya-paying group of the murderer. This led to all-out warfare, and within the next forty-eight hours thirteen Yuunis and twenty-six Tol Ja’lo had been killed. Warfare continued for another year before elders from both clans, brought together by the English colonial administration, managed to broker a deal (the exchange of blood wealth) that satisfied both sides and was paid over the next three years.

The paying of blood wealth took place in the shadow of the threat of force and feuding, and even when it was paid, it did not necessarily stop conflict. Usually conflict died down and then flared up again.

Political power was thus widely dispersed in Somali society, almost pluralistically. But without the authority of a centralized state to enforce order, let alone property rights, this led not to inclusive institutions. Nobody respected the authority of another, and nobody, including the British colonial state when it eventually arrived, was able to impose order. The lack of political centralization made it impossible for Somalia to benefit from the Industrial Revolution. In such a climate it would have been unimaginable to invest in or adopt the new technologies emanating from Britain, or indeed to create the types of organizations necessary to do so.

The complex politics of Somalia had even more subtle implications for economic progress. We mentioned earlier some of the great technological puzzles of African history. Prior to the expansion of colonial rule in the late nineteenth century, African societies did not use wheeled transportation or plow agriculture and few had writing. Ethiopia did, as we have seen. The Somalis also had a written script, but unlike the Ethiopians, they did not use it. We have already seen instances of this in African history. African societies may not have used wheels or plows, but they certainly knew about them. In the case of the Kingdom of Kongo, as we have seen, this was fundamentally due to the fact that the economic institutions created no incentives for people to adopt these technologies. Could the same issues arise with the adoption of writing?

We can get some sense of this from the Kingdom of Taqali, situated to the northwest of Somalia, in the Nuba Hills of southern Sudan. The Kingdom of Taqali was formed in the late eighteenth century by a band of warriors led by a man called Isma’il, and it stayed independent until amalgamated into the British Empire in 1884. The Taqali kings and people had access to writing in Arabic, but it was not used—except by the kings, for external communication with other polities and diplomatic correspondence. At first this situation seems very puzzling. The traditional account of the origin of writing in Mesopotamia is that it was developed by states in order to record information, control people, and levy taxes. Wasn’t the Taqali state interested in this?

These questions were investigated by the historian Janet Ewald in the late 1970s as she tried to reconstruct the history of the Taqali state. Part of the story is that the citizens resisted the use of writing because they feared that it would be used to control resources, such as valuable land, by allowing the state to claim ownership. They also feared that it would lead to more systematic taxation. The dynasty that Isma’il started did not gel into a powerful state. Even if it had wanted to, the state was not strong enough to impose its will over the objections of the citizens. But there were other, more subtle factors at work. Various elites also opposed political centralization, for example, preferring oral to written interaction with citizens, because this allowed them maximum discretion. Written laws or orders could not be taken back or denied and were harder to change; they set benchmarks that governing elites might want to reverse. So neither the ruled nor the rulers of Taqali saw the introduction of writing to be to their advantage. The ruled feared how the rulers would use it, and the rulers themselves saw the absence of writing as aiding their quite precarious grip on power. It was the politics of Taqali that kept writing from being introduced. Though the Somalis had even less of a well-defined elite compared with the Taqali kingdom, it is quite plausible that the same forces inhibited their use of writing and their adoption of other basic technologies.

The Somali case shows the consequences of the lack of political centralization for economic growth. The historical literature does not record instances of attempts to create such centralization in Somalia. However, it is clear why this would have been very difficult. To politically centralize would have meant that some clans would have been subject to the control of others. But they rejected any such dominance, and the surrender of their power that this would have entailed; the balance of military power in the society would also have made it difficult to create such centralized institutions. In fact, it is likely that any group or clan attempting to centralize power would not only have faced stiff resistance but would have lost its existing power and privileges. As a consequence of this lack of political centralization and the implied absence of even the most basic security of property rights, Somali society never generated incentives to invest in productivity-enhancing technologies. As the process of industrialization was under way in other parts of the world in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Somalis were feuding and fending for their lives, and their economic backwardness became more ingrained.

ENDURING BACKWARDNESS

The Industrial Revolution created a transformative critical juncture for the whole world during the nineteenth century and beyond: those societies that allowed and incentivized their citizens to invest in new technologies could grow rapidly. But many around the world failed to do so—or explicitly chose not to do so. Nations under the grip of extractive political and economic institutions did not generate such incentives. Spain and Ethiopia provide examples where the absolutist control of political institutions and the implied extractive economic institutions choked economic incentives long before the dawn of the nineteenth century. The outcome was similar in other absolutist regimes—for example, in Austria-Hungary, Russia, the Ottoman Empire, and China, though in these cases the rulers, because of fear of creative destruction, not only neglected to encourage economic progress but also took explicit steps to block the spread of industry and the introduction of new technologies that would bring industrialization.

Absolutism is not the only form of extractive political institutions and was not the only factor preventing industrialization. Inclusive political and economic institutions necessitate some degree of political centralization so that the state can enforce law and order, uphold property rights, and encourage economic activity when necessary by investing in public services. Yet even today, many nations, such as Afghanistan, Haiti, Nepal, and Somalia, have states that are unable to maintain the most rudimentary order, and economic incentives are all but destroyed. The case of Somalia illustrates how the process of industrialization also passed by such societies. Political centralization is resisted for the same reason that absolutist regimes resist change: the often well-placed fear that change will reallocate political power from those that dominate today to new individuals and groups. Thus, as absolutism blocks moves toward pluralism and economic change, so do the traditional elites and clans dominating the scene in societies without state centralization. As a consequence, societies that still lacked such centralization in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries were particularly disadvantaged in the age of industry.

While the variety of extractive institutions ranging from absolutism to states with little centralization failed to take advantage of the spread of industry, the critical juncture of the Industrial Revolution had very different effects in other parts of the world. As we will see in chapter 10, societies that had already taken steps toward inclusive political and economic institutions, such as the United States and Australia, and those where absolutism was more seriously challenged, such as France and Japan, took advantage of these new economic opportunities and started a process of rapid economic growth. As such, the usual pattern of interaction between a critical juncture and existing institutional differences leading to further institutional and economic divergence played out again in the nineteenth century, and this time with an even bigger bang and more fundamental effects on the prosperity and poverty of nations.

North of the fence: Nogales, Arizona Jim West/imagebroker.net/Photolibrary

South of the fence: Nogales, Sonora Jim West/age fotostock/Photolibrary

Consequences of a level playing field: Thomas Edison’s 1880 patent for the lightbulb Records of the Patent and Trademark Office; Record Group 241; National Archives

Economic losers from creative destruction: machine-breaking Luddites in early-nineteenth-century Britain Mary Evans Picture Library/Tom Morgan

Consequences of a complete lack of political centralization in Somalia REUTERS/Mohamed Guled/Landov

Successive beneficiaries of extractive institutions in Congo:

King of Kongo © CORBIS King Leopold II The Granger Collection, NY

Joseph-Désiré Mobutu © Richard Melloul/Sygma/CORBIS

Laurent Kabila © Reuters/CORBIS

The Glorious Revolution: William III of Orange is read the Bill of Rights before being offered the crown of England by parliament After Edgar Melville Ward/The Bridgeman Art Library/Getty Images

The bubonic plague of the fourteenth century creates a critical juncture (The Triumph of Death painting of the Black Death by Brueghel the Elder) The Granger Collection, NY

Beneficiary of institutional innovation: the King of Kuba Eliot Elisofon/Time & Life Pictures/Getty

The emergence of hierarchy and inequality before farming: the grave goods of the Natufian elite http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Natufian-Burial-ElWad.jpg

Extractive growth: Soviet Gulag labor builds the White Sea canal SOVFOTO

Britain falls far behind: the ruins of the Roman empire at Vindolanda Courtesy of the Vindolanda Trust and Adam Stanford

Innovation, essence of inclusive economic growth: James Watt’s steam engine The Granger Collection, NY

Organizational change, a consequence of inclusive institutions: the factory of Richard Arkwright at Cromford The Granger Collection, NY

Fruits of unsustainable extractive growth: Zheng He’s ship alongside Columbus’s Santa Maria Gregory A. Harlin/National Geographic Stock

Bird’s-eye view of the dual economy in South Africa: poverty in Transkei, prosperity in Natal Roger de la Harpe/Africa Imagery

Consequences of the Industrial Revolution: the storming of the Bastille Bridgeman-Giraudon/Art Resource, NY

Challenges to inclusive institutions: the Standard Oil Company Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C.

Noncreative destruction: abandoned Hasting railway station on the way to Bo in Sierra Leone © Matt Stephenson: www.itsayshere.org

Extractive institutions today: children working in an Uzbek cotton field Environmental Justice Foundation, www.ejfoundation.org

Breaking a mold: three Tswana chiefs on their way to London Photograph by Willoughby, courtesy of Botswana National Archives & Records Services

Breaking another mold: Rosa Parks challenges extractive institutions in the U.S. south The Granger Collection, NY

Extractive institutions devour their children: the Chinese Cultural Revolution vs. “degenerate intellectuals” Weng Rulan, 1967, IISH Collection, International Institute of Social History (Amsterdam)