The Mayas were skilled builders who independently invented cement. Their buildings and their inscriptions provide vital information on the trajectories of the Maya cities, as they often recorded events dated according to the Long Count. Looking across all the Maya cities, archaeologists can thus count how many buildings were finished in particular years. Around AD 500 there are few dated monuments. For example, the Long Count date corresponding to AD 514 recorded just ten. There was then a steady increase, reaching twenty by AD 672 and forty by the middle of the eighth century. After this the number of dated monuments collapses. By the ninth century, it is down to ten per year, and by the tenth century, to zero. These dated inscriptions give us a clear picture of the expansion of Maya cities and their subsequent contraction from the late eighth century.
This analysis of dates can be complemented by examining the lists of kings the Mayas recorded. At the Maya city of Copán, now in western Honduras, there is a famous monument known as Altar Q. Altar Q records the names of all the kings, starting from the founder of the dynasty K’inich Yax K’uk’ Mo’, or “King Green-Sun First Quetzal Macaw,” named after not just the sun but also two of the exotic birds of the Central American forest whose feathers were greatly valued by the Mayas. K’inich Yax K’uk’ Mo’ came to power in Copán in AD 426, which we know from the Long Count date on Altar Q. He founded a dynasty that would reign for four hundred years. Some of K’inich Yax’s successors had equally graphic names. The thirteenth ruler’s glyph translates as “18 Rabbit,” who was followed by “Smoke Monkey” and then “Smoke Shell,” who died in AD 763. The last name on the altar is King Yax Pasaj Chan Yoaat, or “First Dawned Sky Lightening God,” who was the sixteenth ruler of this line and assumed the throne at the death of Smoke Shell. After him we know of only one more king, Ukit Took (“Patron of Flint”), from a fragment of an altar. After Yax Pasaj, the buildings and inscriptions stopped, and it seems that the dynasty was shortly overthrown. Ukit Took was probably not even the real claimant to the throne but a pretender.
There is a final way of looking at this evidence at Copán, one developed by the archaeologists AnnCorinne Freter, Nancy Gonlin, and David Webster. These researchers mapped the rise and fall of Copán by examining the spread of the settlement in the Copán Valley over a period of 850 years, from AD 400 to AD 1250, using a technique called obsidian hydration, which calculates the water content of obsidian on the date it was mined. Once mined, the water content falls at a known rate, allowing archaeologists to calculate the date a piece of obsidian was mined. Freter, Gonlin, and Webster were then able to map where pieces of dated obsidian were found in the Copán Valley and trace how the city expanded and then contracted. Since it is possible to make a reasonable guess about the number of houses and buildings in a particular area, the total population of the city can be estimated. In the period AD 400–449, the population was negligible, estimated at about six hundred people. It rose steadily to a peak of twenty-eight thousand in AD 750–799. Though this does not appear large by contemporary urban standards, it was massive for that period; these numbers imply that in this period, Copán had a larger population than London or Paris. Other Maya cities, such as Tikal and Calakmul, were undoubtedly much larger. In line with the evidence from the Long Count dates, AD 800 was the population peak for Copán. After this it began to decline, and by AD 900 it had fallen to around fifteen thousand people. From there the fall continued, and by AD 1200 the population had returned to what it was eight hundred years previously.
The basis for the economic development of the Maya Classical Era was the same as that for the Bushong and the Natufians: the creation of extractive institutions with some degree of state centralization. These institutions had several key elements. Around AD 100, in the city of Tikal in Guatemala, there emerged a new type of dynastic kingdom. A ruling class based on the ajaw (lord or ruler) took root with a king called the k’uhul ajaw (divine lord) and, underneath him, a hierarchy of aristocrats. The divine lord organized the society with the cooperation of these elites and also communicated with the gods. As far as we know, this new set of political institutions did not allow for any sort of popular participation, but it did bring stability. The k’uhul ajaw raised tribute from farmers and organized labor to build the great monuments, and the coalescence of these institutions created the basis for an impressive economic expansion. The Maya’s economy was based on extensive occupational specialization, with skilled potters, weavers, woodworkers, and tool and ornament makers. They also traded obsidian, jaguar pelts, marine shells, cacao, salt, and feathers among themselves and other polities over long distances in Mexico. They probably had money, too, and like the Aztecs, used cacao beans for currency.
The way in which the Maya Classical Era was founded on the creation of extractive political institutions was very similar to the situation among the Bushong, with Yax Ehb’ Xook at Tikal playing a role similar to that of King Shyaam. The new political institutions led to a significant increase in economic prosperity, much of which was then extracted by the new elite based around the k’uhul ajaw. Once this system had consolidated, by around AD 300, there was little further technological change, however. Though there is some evidence of improved irrigation and water management techniques, agricultural technology was rudimentary and appears not to have changed. Building and artistic techniques became much more sophisticated over time, but in total there was little innovation.
There was no creative destruction. But there were other forms of destruction as the wealth that the extractive institutions created for the k’uhul ajaw and the Maya elite led to constant warfare, which worsened over time. The sequence of conflicts is recorded in the Maya inscriptions, with special glyphs indicating that a war took place at a particular date in the Long Count. The planet Venus was the celestial patron of war, and the Mayas regarded some phases of the planet’s orbit as particularly auspicious for waging war. The glyph that indicated warfare, known as “star wars” by archaeologists, shows a star showering the earth with a liquid that could be water or blood. The inscriptions also reveal patterns of alliance and competition. There were long contests for power between the larger states, such as Tikal, Calakmul, Copán, and Palenque, and these subjugated smaller states into a vassal status. Evidence for this comes from glyphs marking royal accessions. During this period, they start indicating that the smaller states were now being dominated by another, outside ruler.
Map 10 (this page) shows the main Maya cities and the various patterns of contact between them as reconstructed by the archaeologists Nikolai Grube and Simon Martin. These patterns indicate that though the large cities such as Calakmul, Dos Pilas, Piedras Negras, and Yaxchilan had extensive diplomatic contacts, some were often dominated by others and they also fought each other.
The overwhelming fact about the Maya collapse is that it coincides with the overthrow of the political model based on the k’uhul ajaw. We saw in Copán that after Yax Pasaj’s death in AD 810 there were no more kings. At around this time the royal palaces were abandoned. Twenty miles to the north of Copán, in the city of Quiriguá, the last king, Jade Sky, ascended to the throne between AD 795 and 800. The last dated monument is from AD 810 by the Long Count, the same year that Yax Pasaj died. The city was abandoned soon after. Throughout the Maya area the story is the same; the political institutions that had provided the context for the expansion of trade, agriculture, and population vanished. Royal courts did not function, monuments and temples were not carved, and palaces were emptied. As political and social institutions unraveled, reversing the process of state centralization, the economy contracted and the population fell.
In some cases the major centers collapsed from widespread violence. The Petexbatun region of Guatemala—where the great temples were subsequently pulled down and the stone used to build extensive defensive walls—provides one vivid example. As we’ll see in the next chapter, it was very similar to what happened in the later Roman Empire. Later, even in places such as Copán, where there are few
er signs of violence at the time of the collapse, many monuments were defaced or destroyed. In some places the elite remained even after the initial overthrow of the k’uhul ajaw. In Copán there is evidence of the elite continuing to erect new buildings for at least another two hundred years before they also disappeared. Elsewhere elites seem to have gone at the same time as the divine lord.
Existing archaeological evidence does not allow us to reach a definitive conclusion about why the k’uhul ajaw and elites surrounding him were overthrown and the institutions that had created the Maya Classical Era collapsed. We know this took place in the context of intensified inter-city warfare, and it seems likely that opposition and rebellion within the cities, perhaps led by different factions of the elite, overthrew the institution.
Though the extractive institutions that the Mayas created produced sufficient wealth for the cities to flourish and the elite to become wealthy and generate great art and monumental buildings, the system was not stable. The extractive institutions upon which this narrow elite ruled created extensive inequality, and thus the potential for infighting between those who could benefit from the wealth extracted from the people. This conflict ultimately led to the undoing of the Maya civilization.
WHAT GOES WRONG?
Extractive institutions are so common in history because they have a powerful logic: they can generate some limited prosperity while at the same time distributing it into the hands of a small elite. For this growth to happen, there must be political centralization. Once this is in place, the state—or the elite controlling the state—typically has incentives to invest and generate wealth, encourage others to invest so that the state can extract resources from them, and even mimic some of the processes that would normally be set in motion by inclusive economic institutions and markets. In the Caribbean plantation economies, extractive institutions took the form of the elite using coercion to force slaves to produce sugar. In the Soviet Union, they took the form of the Communist Party reallocating resources from agriculture to industry and structuring some sort of incentives for managers and workers. As we have seen, such incentives were undermined by the nature of the system.
The potential for creating extractive growth gives an impetus to political centralization and is the reason why King Shyaam wished to create the Kuba Kingdom, and likely accounts for why the Natufians in the Middle East set up a primitive form of law and order, hierarchy, and extractive institutions that would ultimately lead to the Neolithic Revolution. Similar processes also likely underpinned the emergence of settled societies and the transition to agriculture in the Americas, and can be seen in the sophisticated civilization that the Mayas built on foundations laid by highly extractive institutions coercing many for the benefit of their narrow elites.
The growth generated by extractive institutions is very different in nature from growth created under inclusive institutions, however. Most important, it is not sustainable. By their very nature, extractive institutions do not foster creative destruction and generate at best only a limited amount of technological progress. The growth they engender thus lasts for only so long. The Soviet experience gives a vivid illustration of this limit. Soviet Russia generated rapid growth as it caught up rapidly with some of the advanced technologies in the world, and resources were allocated out of the highly inefficient agricultural sector and into industry. But ultimately the incentives faced in every sector, from agriculture to industry, could not stimulate technological progress. This took place in only a few pockets where resources were being poured and where innovation was strongly rewarded because of its role in the competition with the West. Soviet growth, however rapid it was, was bound to be relatively short lived, and it was already running out of steam by the 1970s.
Lack of creative destruction and innovation is not the only reason why there are severe limits to growth under extractive institutions. The history of the Maya city-states illustrates a more ominous and, alas, more common end, again implied by the internal logic of extractive institutions. As these institutions create significant gains for the elite, there will be strong incentives for others to fight to replace the current elite. Infighting and instability are thus inherent features of extractive institutions, and they not only create further inefficiencies but also often reverse any political centralization, sometimes even leading to the total breakdown of law and order and descent into chaos, as the Maya city-states experienced following their relative success during their Classical Era.
Though inherently limited, growth under extractive institutions may nonetheless appear spectacular when it’s in motion. Many in the Soviet Union and many more in the Western world were awestruck by Soviet growth in the 1920s, ’30s, ’40s, ’50s, ’60s, and even as late as the ’70s, in the same way that they are mesmerized by the breakneck pace of economic growth in China today. But as we will discuss in greater detail in chapter 15, China under the rule of the Communist Party is another example of society experiencing growth under extractive institutions and is similarly unlikely to generate sustained growth unless it undergoes a fundamental political transformation toward inclusive political institutions.
6.
DRIFTING APART
HOW VENICE BECAME A MUSEUM
THE GROUP OF ISLANDS that form Venice lie at the far north of the Adriatic Sea. In the Middle Ages, Venice was possibly the richest place in the world, with the most advanced set of inclusive economic institutions underpinned by nascent political inclusiveness. It gained its independence in AD 810, at what turned out to be a fortuitous time. The economy of Europe was recovering from the decline it had suffered as the Roman Empire collapsed, and kings such as Charlemagne were reconstituting strong central political power. This led to stability, greater security, and an expansion of trade, which Venice was in a unique position to take advantage of. It was a nation of seafarers, placed right in the middle of the Mediterranean. From the East came spices, Byzantine-manufactured goods, and slaves. Venice became rich. By 1050, when Venice had already been expanding economically for at least a century, it had a population of 45,000 people. This increased by more than 50 percent, to 70,000, by 1200. By 1330 the population had again increased by another 50 percent, to 110,000; Venice was then as big as Paris, and probably three times the size of London.
One of the key bases for the economic expansion of Venice was a series of contractual innovations making economic institutions much more inclusive. The most famous was the commenda, a rudimentary type of joint stock company, which formed only for the duration of a single trading mission. A commenda involved two partners, a “sedentary” one who stayed in Venice and one who traveled. The sedentary partner put capital into the venture, while the traveling partner accompanied the cargo. Typically, the sedentary partner put in the lion’s share of the capital. Young entrepreneurs who did not have wealth themselves could then get into the trading business by traveling with the merchandise. It was a key channel of upward social mobility. Any losses in the voyage were shared according to the amount of capital the partners had put in. If the voyage made money, profits were based on two types of commenda contracts. If the commenda was unilateral, then the sedentary merchant provided 100 percent of the capital and received 75 percent of the profits. If it was bilateral, the sedentary merchant provided 67 percent of the capital and received 50 percent of the profits. Studying official documents, one sees how powerful a force the commenda was in fostering upward social mobility: these documents are full of new names, people who had previously not been among the Venetian elite. In government documents of AD 960, 971, and 982, the number of new names comprise 69 percent, 81 percent, and 65 percent, respectively, of those recorded.
This economic inclusiveness and the rise of new families through trade forced the political system to become even more open. The doge, who governed Venice, was selected for life by the General Assembly. Though a general gathering of all citizens, in practice the General Assembly was dominated by a core group of powerful families. Though the doge was very powe
rful, his power was gradually reduced over time by changes in political institutions. After 1032 the doge was elected along with a newly created Ducal Council, whose job was also to ensure that the doge did not acquire absolute power. The first doge hemmed in by this council, Domenico Flabianico, was a wealthy silk merchant from a family that had not previously held high office. This institutional change was followed by a huge expansion of Venetian mercantile and naval power. In 1082 Venice was granted extensive trade privileges in Constantinople, and a Venetian Quarter was created in that city. It soon housed ten thousand Venetians. Here we see inclusive economic and political institutions beginning to work in tandem.
The economic expansion of Venice, which created more pressure for political change, exploded after the changes in political and economic institutions that followed the murder of the doge in 1171. The first important innovation was the creation of a Great Council, which was to be the ultimate source of political power in Venice from this point on. The council was made up of officeholders of the Venetian state, such as judges, and was dominated by aristocrats. In addition to these officeholders, each year a hundred new members were nominated to the council by a nominating committee whose four members were chosen by lot from the existing council. The council also subsequently chose the members for two subcouncils, the Senate and the Council of Forty, which had various legislative and executive tasks. The Great Council also chose the Ducal Council, which was expanded from two to six members. The second innovation was the creation of yet another council, chosen by the Great Council by lot, to nominate the doge. Though the choice had to be ratified by the General Assembly, since they nominated only one person, this effectively gave the choice of doge to the council. The third innovation was that a new doge had to swear an oath of office that circumscribed ducal power. Over time these constraints were continually expanded so that subsequent doges had to obey magistrates, then have all their decisions approved by the Ducal Council. The Ducal Council also took on the role of ensuring that the doge obeyed all decisions of the Great Council.
Why Nations Fail Page 17
