x PREFACE Most of the areas in which they reside may be aptly called shatter zones or zones of refuge. Virtually everything about these people's livelihoods,social organiza- tion,ideologies,and(more controversially)even their largely oral cultures can be read as strategic positionings designed to keep the state at arm's length. Their physical dispersion in rugged terrain,their mobility,their cropping practices,their kinship structure,their pliable ethnic identities,and their devotion to prophetic,millenarian leaders effectively serve to avoid incorpo- ration into states and to prevent states from springing up among them.The particular state that most of them have been evading has been the precocious Han-Chinese state.A history of flight is embedded in many hill legends. The documentary record,although somewhat speculative until 1500,is clea enough after that,including frequent military campaigns against hill peoples under the Ming and Qing dynasties and culminating in the unprecedented uprisings in southwestern China in the mid-nineteenth century that left millions seeking refuge.The flight from both the Burmese and Thai slave- raiding states is also amply documented. My argument will,I hope,have some resonance beyond the already broad swath of Asia with which it is immediately concerned. The huge literature on state-making,contemporary and historic,pays virtually no attention to its obverse:the history of deliberate and reactive statelessness.This is the history of those who got away,and state-making cannot be understood apart from it.This is also what makes this an anarchist historv. This account implicitly brings together the histories of all those peoples extruded by coercive state-making and unfree labor systems:Gypsies,Cos- sacks,polyglot tribes made up of refugees from Spanish reducciones in the New World and the Philippines,fugitive slave communities,the Marsh Arabs,San-Bushmen,and so on. The argument reverses much received wisdom about "primitivism" generally.Pastoralism,foraging,shifting cultivation,and segmentary lineage systems are often a“secondary adaptation,”a kind of“self-barbarianization” adopted by peoples whose location,subsistence,and social structure are adapted to state evasion.For those living in the shadow of states,such eva- sion is also perfectly compatible with derivative,imitative,and parasitic state forms in the hills. My argument is a deconstruction of Chinese and other civilizational discourses about the“barbarian,”the“raw,”the“primitive.”On close in-
Preface Most of the areas in which they reside may be aptly called shatter zones or zones of refuge. Virtually everything about these people’s livelihoods, social organization, ideologies, and (more controversially) even their largely oral cultures, can be read as strategic positionings designed to keep the state at arm’s length. Their physical dispersion in rugged terrain, their mobility, their cropping practices, their kinship structure, their pliable ethnic identities, and their devotion to prophetic, millenarian leaders effectively serve to avoid incorporation into states and to prevent states from springing up among them. The particular state that most of them have been evading has been the precocious Han-Chinese state. A history of flight is embedded in many hill legends. The documentary record, although somewhat speculative until 1500, is clear enough after that, including frequent military campaigns against hill peoples under the Ming and Qing dynasties and culminating in the unprecedented uprisings in southwestern China in the mid-nineteenth century that left millions seeking refuge. The flight from both the Burmese and Thai slaveraiding states is also amply documented. My argument will, I hope, have some resonance beyond the already broad swath of Asia with which it is immediately concerned. The huge literature on state-making, contemporary and historic, pays virtually no attention to its obverse: the history of deliberate and reactive statelessness. This is the history of those who got away, and state-making cannot be understood apart from it. This is also what makes this an anarchist history. This account implicitly brings together the histories of all those peoples extruded by coercive state-making and unfree labor systems: Gypsies, Cossacks, polyglot tribes made up of refugees from Spanish reducciones in the New World and the Philippines, fugitive slave communities, the Marsh Arabs, San-Bushmen, and so on. The argument reverses much received wisdom about “primitivism” generally. Pastoralism, foraging, shifting cultivation, and segmentary lineage systems are often a “secondary adaptation,” a kind of “self-barbarianization” adopted by peoples whose location, subsistence, and social structure are adapted to state evasion. For those living in the shadow of states, such evasion is also perfectly compatible with derivative, imitative, and parasitic state forms in the hills. My argument is a deconstruction of Chinese and other civilizational discourses about the “barbarian,” the “raw,” the “primitive.” On close in-
PREFACE xi spection those terms,practically,mean ungoverned,not-yet-incorporated. Civilizational discourses never entertain the possibility of people voluntarily going over to the barbarians,hence such statuses are stigmatized and ethni- cized.Ethnicity and "tribe"begin exactly where taxes and sovereignty end- in the Roman Empire as in the Chinese. Usually,forms of subsistence and kinship are taken as given,as ecologi cally and culturally determined.By analyzing various forms of cultivation, particular crops,certain social structures,and physical mobility patterns for their escape value,I treat such givens largely as political choices. The mountains as a refuge for state-fleeing people,including guerrillas, is an important geographical theme.I develop the idea of the friction of ter- rain,which is a new way of understanding political space and the difficulties of state-making in premodern societies. I'm the only one to blame for this book.I did it.Let's get that out of the way before I begin making apologies and trying,in vain,I know,to make a few preemptive strikes against some of the criticism I can,even as I write this,see bearing down on me. I've often been accused of being wrong but rarely of being obscure or incomprehensible.This book is no different.There's no denying that I make bold claims about the hill peoples of mainland Southeast Asia.I think,natu- rally,that my claims are broadly correct,even if I may be mistaken in some particulars.Judgment of whether I am right is,as always,now out of my hands and in that of my readers and reviewers.There are,however,three things about these claims that I wish to assert emphatically.First,there is nothing original here.I repeat,there is not a single idea here that originates with me.What I surely have done is to see a kind of immanent order or argu ment in a good many of the sources I canvassed and to draw that argument out to see how far it would take me.The creative aspect,if there was any,was to make out this gestalt and to connect the dots.I realize that some of those whose arguments and speculations I have made use of will think I have gone too far-a few of them have told me so and,mercifully for me,others are no longer in a position to complain.They are no more responsible for what I have done with their ideas than I will be for what use others make of what I have written here. To my mild astonishment,I find that I have become a kind of histo- rian-not a particularly good one,perhaps,but a historian nonetheless.And an ancient historian at that:ancient in both senses of the term.I am familiar
Preface xi spection those terms, practically, mean ungoverned, not-yet-incorporated. Civilizational discourses never entertain the possibility of people voluntarily going over to the barbarians, hence such statuses are stigmatized and ethnicized. Ethnicity and “tribe” begin exactly where taxes and sovereignty end— in the Roman Empire as in the Chinese. Usually, forms of subsistence and kinship are taken as given, as ecologically and culturally determined. By analyzing various forms of cultivation, particular crops, certain social structures, and physical mobility patterns for their escape value, I treat such givens largely as political choices. The mountains as a refuge for state-fleeing people, including guerrillas, is an important geographical theme. I develop the idea of the friction of terrain, which is a new way of understanding political space and the difficulties of state-making in premodern societies. I’m the only one to blame for this book. I did it. Let’s get that out of the way before I begin making apologies and trying, in vain, I know, to make a few preemptive strikes against some of the criticism I can, even as I write this, see bearing down on me. I’ve often been accused of being wrong but rarely of being obscure or incomprehensible. This book is no different. There’s no denying that I make bold claims about the hill peoples of mainland Southeast Asia. I think, naturally, that my claims are broadly correct, even if I may be mistaken in some particulars. Judgment of whether I am right is, as always, now out of my hands and in that of my readers and reviewers. There are, however, three things about these claims that I wish to assert emphatically. First, there is nothing original here. I repeat, there is not a single idea here that originates with me. What I surely have done is to see a kind of immanent order or argument in a good many of the sources I canvassed and to draw that argument out to see how far it would take me. The creative aspect, if there was any, was to make out this gestalt and to connect the dots. I realize that some of those whose arguments and speculations I have made use of will think I have gone too far—a few of them have told me so and, mercifully for me, others are no longer in a position to complain. They are no more responsible for what I have done with their ideas than I will be for what use others make of what I have written here. To my mild astonishment, I find that I have become a kind of historian—not a particularly good one, perhaps, but a historian nonetheless. And an ancient historian at that: ancient in both senses of the term. I am familiar
xii PREFACE with the occupational hazard of historians,namely that a historian preparing herself to write,say,about the eighteenth century ends up writing mostly about the seventeenth century because it comes to seem so fundamental to the question at issue.Something like that happened to me.Here I was read- ing ethnographies of hill peoples and reports on human rights abuses by the Burmese military in minority areas only to find myself drawn inexorably back to the coercive state-making of the classical mandala kingdoms.I owe my re- newed study of precolonial and colonial Southeast Asia to two independent graduate reading courses.One was devoted to foundational texts in South- east Asian studies and designed as a kind of intellectual boot camp in which we read all those basic works most scholars had on their shelves but would be embarrassed to admit that they had never read,beginning with the two volumes of the Cambridge History of Southeast Asia.It was bracing for all of us.The second was a reading course on Burma,starting from the same premise This brings me to my second emphatic assertion.What I have to say in these pages makes little sense for the period following the Second World War.Since 1945,and in some cases before then,the power of the state to de- ploy distance-demolishing technologies-railroads,all-weather roads,tele- phone,telegraph,airpower,helicopters,and now information technology- so changed the strategic balance of power between self-governing peoples and nation-states,so diminished the friction of terrain,that my analysis largely ceases to be useful.On the contrary,the sovereign nation-state is now busy projecting its power to its outermost territorial borders and mopping up zones of weak or no sovereignty.The need for the natural resources of the "tribal zone"and the desire to ensure the security and productivity of the periphery has led,everywhere,to strategies of "engulfment,"in which presumptively loyal and land-hungry valley populations are transplanted to the hills.So ifmy analysis does not apply to late-twentieth-century Southeast Asia,don't say I didn't warn you. Finally,I worry that the radical constructionist case made here about ethnogenesis will be misunderstood and taken as a devaluation,even deni- gration,of ethnic identities for which brave men and women have fought and died.Nothing could be further from the truth.1//identities,without excep- tion,have been socially constructed:the Han,the Burman,the American,the Danish,all of them.Quite often such identities,particularly minority identi- ties,are at first imagined by powerful states,as the Han imagined the Miao, the British colonists imagined the Karen and the Shan,the French the Jarai
xii Preface with the occupational hazard of historians, namely that a historian preparing herself to write, say, about the eighteenth century ends up writing mostly about the seventeenth century because it comes to seem so fundamental to the question at issue. Something like that happened to me. Here I was reading ethnographies of hill peoples and reports on human rights abuses by the Burmese military in minority areas only to find myself drawn inexorably back to the coercive state-making of the classical mandala kingdoms. I owe my renewed study of precolonial and colonial Southeast Asia to two independent graduate reading courses. One was devoted to foundational texts in Southeast Asian studies and designed as a kind of intellectual boot camp in which we read all those basic works most scholars had on their shelves but would be embarrassed to admit that they had never read, beginning with the two volumes of the Cambridge History of Southeast Asia. It was bracing for all of us. The second was a reading course on Burma, starting from the same premise. This brings me to my second emphatic assertion. What I have to say in these pages makes little sense for the period following the Second World War. Since 1945, and in some cases before then, the power of the state to deploy distance-demolishing technologies—railroads, all-weather roads, telephone, telegraph, airpower, helicopters, and now information technology— so changed the strategic balance of power between self-governing peoples and nation-states, so diminished the friction of terrain, that my analysis largely ceases to be useful. On the contrary, the sovereign nation-state is now busy projecting its power to its outermost territorial borders and mopping up zones of weak or no sovereignty. The need for the natural resources of the “tribal zone” and the desire to ensure the security and productivity of the periphery has led, everywhere, to strategies of “engulfment,” in which presumptively loyal and land-hungry valley populations are transplanted to the hills. So if my analysis does not apply to late-twentieth-century Southeast Asia, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Finally, I worry that the radical constructionist case made here about ethnogenesis will be misunderstood and taken as a devaluation, even denigration, of ethnic identities for which brave men and women have fought and died. Nothing could be further from the truth. All identities, without exception, have been socially constructed: the Han, the Burman, the American, the Danish, all of them. Quite often such identities, particularly minority identities, are at first imagined by powerful states, as the Han imagined the Miao, the British colonists imagined the Karen and the Shan, the French the Jarai
PREFACE xiii Whether invented or imposed,such identities select,more or less arbitrarily, one or another trait,however vague-religion,language,skin color,diet, means of subsistence-as the desideratum.Such categories,institutionalized in territories,land tenure,courts,customary law,appointed chiefs,schools, and paperwork,may become passionately lived identities.To the degree that the identity is stigmatized by the larger state or society,it is likely to become for many a resistant and defiant identity.Here invented identities combine with self-making of a heroic kind,in which such identifications become a badge of honor.In the contemporary world in which the nation-state is the hegemonic political unit,it is not surprising that such self-assertion should usually take the form of ethnonationalism.So for those who risk everything so that the Shan,the Karen,the Chin,the Mon,the Kayah may achieve some form of independence and recognition,I have only admiration and respect. I owe an enormous intellectual debt to at least five"dead white men' whose ranks I shall join in due course.They were the pioneers of the trail along which I plod here;I wouldn't even have found it without them.The earliest was Pierre Clastres,whose daring interpretation of state-evading and state-preventing native peoples in post-Conquest South America in La societe contre I'tat has come,in the wake of subsequent evidence,to seem clair- voyant.Owen Lattimore's deep and ambitious insights into the relationship between Han-Chinese states and their pastoralist periphery helped me to see that something similar might hold for China's southwest frontier.Ernest Gellner's analysis of Berber-Arab relations helped me grasp that where sovereignty and taxes stopped,there precisely,"ethnicity"and "tribes' began,and that barbarian wa s another word states used to describe any self governing,nonsubject people.No one who plods the route I have taken gets anywhere without a sustained intellectual encounter with Edmund Leach's Political Systems of Highland Burma.There are few books that are so "good to think with."Finally,I am in debt to James G.Scott,aka Shwe Yoe,military commander,colonial official,compiler of the Gazetteer of Upper Burma and author of The Burman.He is no relative,but as I have learned so much from his acute observations and as we are both,according to Burmese astrological reckoning,entitled to Burmese names of the same sort,I have adopted his Burmese name,Shwe Yoe,in a bid to please his ghost. I have been inspired and instructed by work that reexamined how out-of-the-way people came to be out of the way in the first place,while radically questioning the civilizational discourse applied to them by their self-described superiors.Gonzalo Aguirre Beltran's small classic,Regions of
Preface xiii Whether invented or imposed, such identities select, more or less arbitrarily, one or another trait, however vague—religion, language, skin color, diet, means of subsistence—as the desideratum. Such categories, institutionalized in territories, land tenure, courts, customary law, appointed chiefs, schools, and paperwork, may become passionately lived identities. To the degree that the identity is stigmatized by the larger state or society, it is likely to become for many a resistant and defiant identity. Here invented identities combine with self-making of a heroic kind, in which such identifications become a badge of honor. In the contemporary world in which the nation-state is the hegemonic political unit, it is not surprising that such self-assertion should usually take the form of ethnonationalism. So for those who risk everything so that the Shan, the Karen, the Chin, the Mon, the Kayah may achieve some form of independence and recognition, I have only admiration and respect. I owe an enormous intellectual debt to at least five “dead white men”— whose ranks I shall join in due course. They were the pioneers of the trail along which I plod here; I wouldn’t even have found it without them. The earliest was Pierre Clastres, whose daring interpretation of state-evading and state-preventing native peoples in post-Conquest South America in La société contre l’état has come, in the wake of subsequent evidence, to seem clairvoyant. Owen Lattimore’s deep and ambitious insights into the relationship between Han-Chinese states and their pastoralist periphery helped me to see that something similar might hold for China’s southwest frontier. Ernest Gellner’s analysis of Berber-Arab relations helped me grasp that where sovereignty and taxes stopped, there precisely, “ethnicity” and “tribes” began, and that barbarian was another word states used to describe any selfgoverning, nonsubject people. No one who plods the route I have taken gets anywhere without a sustained intellectual encounter with Edmund Leach’s Political Systems of Highland Burma. There are few books that are so “good to think with.” Finally, I am in debt to James G. Scott, aka Shwe Yoe, military commander, colonial official, compiler of the Gazetteer of Upper Burma and author of The Burman. He is no relative, but as I have learned so much from his acute observations and as we are both, according to Burmese astrological reckoning, entitled to Burmese names of the same sort, I have adopted his Burmese name, Shwe Yoe, in a bid to please his ghost. I have been inspired and instructed by work that reexamined how out-of-the-way people came to be out of the way in the first place, while radically questioning the civilizational discourse applied to them by their self-described superiors. Gonzalo Aguirre Beltrán’s small classic, Regions of
xiv PREFACE Refige,published nearly thirty years ago,made a more general claim than Clastres for much of the Latin American continent,and subsequently Stuart Schwartz and Frank Salomon examined that claim in more careful,illumi- nating detail.Closer to my own geographic focus,Robert Hefner's study of the Tengger Highlands of Java and Geoffrey Benjamin's work on Malaysia's orang asli were convincing and brilliant case studies that encouraged me to see Zomia in this light. The term Zomia I owe entirely to Willem van Schendel,who was per- ceptive enough to realize that this huge upland border area stretching in the west to India(and well beyond,in his view)was distinctive enough to merit its own designation.In sketching out an intellectual case for "Zomia studies" as a field of research,he called into question the routine ways in which we think about area or region.I enrolled as a foot soldier in the Zomia army (psychological warfare branch)immediately after reading his persuasive ar- gument for the term.Willem and I and several colleagues look forward to the day we are able to convene the first International Zomia Studies Conference. Van Schendel's work on the Bengal borderland is already an example of what might be achieved if we took his advice to heart. Had I the patience and even more of an impulse to comprehensiveness there would and should have been a chapter on watery regions of refuge.I mention them only in passing and regret that I haven't been able to do them justice.The numerous orang laut (sea nomads,sea gypsies)in insular South- east Asia are clearly a seagoing,archipelago-hopping variant of swiddeners dwelling in mountain fastnesses.Like many hill people they also have a mar- tial tradition and have moved easily between piracy(seaborne raiding),slave raiding,and serving as the naval guard and strike force of several Malay king- doms.Poised strategically at the edge of major shipping lanes,able to strike and disappear quickly,they conjure up a whole watery Zomia that deserves a place here.As Ben Anderson noted while urging me in this direction,"The sea is bigger,emptier than the mountains and the forest.Look at all those pirates still easily fending off the G-7,Singapore,etc.,with aplomb."But as any reader will note,this book is already too long,and I must leave this theme to others more competent to pursue it:a task already excellently begun by Eric Tagliacozzo There are four scholars whose work falls smack in the middle of my own concerns and without which this book would scarcely be conceivable.I don't know how many times I have read and reread the,in effect,collected works of F.K.L.(Lehman)Chit Hlaing and Richard O'Connor for their deep
xiv Preface Refuge, published nearly thirty years ago, made a more general claim than Clastres for much of the Latin American continent, and subsequently Stuart Schwartz and Frank Salomon examined that claim in more careful, illuminating detail. Closer to my own geographic focus, Robert Hefner’s study of the Tengger Highlands of Java and Geoffrey Benjamin’s work on Malaysia’s orang asli were convincing and brilliant case studies that encouraged me to see Zomia in this light. The term Zomia I owe entirely to Willem van Schendel, who was perceptive enough to realize that this huge upland border area stretching in the west to India (and well beyond, in his view) was distinctive enough to merit its own designation. In sketching out an intellectual case for “Zomia studies” as a field of research, he called into question the routine ways in which we think about area or region. I enrolled as a foot soldier in the Zomia army (psychological warfare branch) immediately after reading his persuasive argument for the term. Willem and I and several colleagues look forward to the day we are able to convene the first International Zomia Studies Conference. Van Schendel’s work on the Bengal borderland is already an example of what might be achieved if we took his advice to heart. Had I the patience and even more of an impulse to comprehensiveness, there would and should have been a chapter on watery regions of refuge. I mention them only in passing and regret that I haven’t been able to do them justice. The numerous orang laut (sea nomads, sea gypsies) in insular Southeast Asia are clearly a seagoing, archipelago-hopping variant of swiddeners dwelling in mountain fastnesses. Like many hill people they also have a martial tradition and have moved easily between piracy (seaborne raiding), slaveraiding, and serving as the naval guard and strike force of several Malay kingdoms. Poised strategically at the edge of major shipping lanes, able to strike and disappear quickly, they conjure up a whole watery Zomia that deserves a place here. As Ben Anderson noted while urging me in this direction, “The sea is bigger, emptier than the mountains and the forest. Look at all those pirates still easily fending off the G-7, Singapore, etc., with aplomb.” But as any reader will note, this book is already too long, and I must leave this theme to others more competent to pursue it: a task already excellently begun by Eric Tagliacozzo. There are four scholars whose work falls smack in the middle of my own concerns and without which this book would scarcely be conceivable. I don’t know how many times I have read and reread the, in effect, collected works of F. K. L. (Lehman) Chit Hlaing and Richard O’Connor for their deep