Violence, Power, and Legitimacy: How It Worked
Violence, Power, and Legitimacy: How It Worked
Real Historical Foundations for Fantasy Rulers
About a month ago, I laid out a case for how a fantasy author can leverage real-world history to create a sense of realism within a fictional world.
More broadly, I spoke about how pre-modern societies (which most fantasy worlds resemble) have many features which are in fact alien and strange to us modern readers, but nonetheless are true to human nature because they did, in fact, happen.
This blend of real-but-unreal—familiar and alien—makes history an amazing tool for fantasy worldbuilding, and it makes historical study a great boon to any fantasy author.
It’s not about making fantasy look as historically accurate as possible. It’s about finding and recognizing the biases and assumptions we make about non-modern societies—which then spill over into fantasy. Once we shatter some of those assumptions, we can create worlds that will seem both believable and unfamiliar to our audience who may still have those biases and assumptions. And it inoculates us against writing trope-laden stereotypes, since we can more intuitively create complex, nuanced settings, plots, and characters.
Today, I want to do something I promised in that last post: give you some more fleshed out examples of historical principles and guideposts. Once you learn them, I think you’ll be able to create stronger, more dramatic, more realistic, settings, and you’ll be able to adapt those into the fantastically unreal settings we all know and love.
In particular, I’m going to reinforce a claim I made in that last post: People of the Past Generally Believed What They Said They Believed In. And I’ll touch on another claim I made then—“Conflicts Are More Complex Than Hatred and Greed”—albeit only tangentially.
Because what I really want to explore today is the theme of political legitimacy. That is, I’m going to show how medieval rulers leveraged existing belief structures and cultural values to maintain and exercise power. I’ll also show how those beliefs and cultural expectations actually limited the options available to those rulers, especially when it came to things like waging war.
The result is a certain status quo of cultural and political activity which is extremely foreign to us modern readers, but which is nonetheless completely believable because this is how real humans functioned for much of human history.
… and that makes it a great foundation for high epic fantasy and indeed any other secondary-world fiction.
Let’s start by looking at what I mean by “legitimacy,” and then we’ll move into how it intersects with conflict and culture—and how it complicates them (in a good way).
Violence, Power, and Legitimacy
It’s an uncomfortable fact that a government—any government in all of human history—rules through the so-called “monopoly on violence.” The government
(i.e. the state) is allowed to do violence upon people, while the people are not allowed to do violence on each other or upon the state.
The state can demand money from you (taxes) or else you face penalties (often physical punishments, e.g. jail), but also you can’t demand money from other people in the same way (i.e. theft, mugging).
In this sense, I’ve seen governments likened to a mob-boss or an organized crime gang. They extract revenue under threat of violence in exchange for “protection” from unnamed future threats which may or may not be real.
But that analogy breaks down very quickly, because violence is not the same thing as power.
Let’s suppose we have a king who recently came to power1; let’s call this fellow “King Licett” (from the Old English verb, licettan, meaning “to pretend”).2 And let’s also suppose that Licett has come to power in the usual way for a monarch, through conquest and warfare.
Having won his kingdom, King Licett wants to maintain power over his people and someday, after he is dead, pass that power on to his heir, Licett Jr.
How does he do it?
Well, he has an army right? Can’t he just force everyone to obey him? He’s already conquered these people, right? Who’s going to stop him?
We have a word for that: tyranny. It works, right up until you need it most.
There’s a reason why many of the world’s greatest conquerors made very poor rulers—or indeed, ended up assassinated. Warfare and violence can get you into power, but warfare is a finite game; it has an end (when one side loses, is conquered, surrenders, etc.). Maintaining power, on the other hand, is an infinite game: the only goal is to keep playing. You wield power so that you can keep wielding power.
Best case scenario for tyrants who rule by fear and violence? No one assassinates you, the torturers stay busy, the people stay scared, your powerful underlings are kept in line with significant bribery, and after you die your chosen heir might—just might—hold on to power long enough to stave off the bloody coup that is sure to come.
Once a fear-based government weakens—often through the death of its terrifying and charismatic leader but sometimes through a rebellion or a crisis that the state cannot navigate—that government tends to fall very quickly.3 It is “power” based solely on strength and the image of strength. Once that image fades, power fades.
Many states do function this way, and it isn’t a bad setting for fiction! Narratively, it sets up the classic “third act meltdown” for a Dark Lord Supervillain. The plucky heroes have been fighting him all along, but now that he’s weak and vulnerable his trusted underlings abandon him, paving the way for an awesome personal duel between the hero and the Dark Lord himself, or perhaps an underling redemption arc!
But it’s more than just good narrative, it’s solid political theory!
Meanwhile, if King Licett the First wants little Junior to ever become King Licett the Second, he needs true power, which only comes when people obey and contribute to your reign willingly. And for that, he needs legitimacy.
The key here is that a state does not merely have a monopoly on violence, it has a monopoly on legitimate violence. Licett’s subjects have to look at him and think “yes, he should be in charge.” They have to see him wield state violence and think “yes, good.”
Tools of Legitimacy
How then, does King Licett legitimize himself? Let’s look at just five ways.
1) Divine Mandate
One of the best legitimizers for a pre-modern ruler was to prove to your subjects that you had the blessing from the divine to rule them. This naturally looks very different in each culture, but the dynamic is older than kingship itself.4
In a culture with a wide pantheon of gods and which believed in the possibility for a man to become divine, this might mean the kings portrayed themselves as gods or the sons of gods.
Here we see the Roman emperor Commodus, portrayed as Hercules (the man who became a god). The cult of the imperial Caesars was a major legitimizing force for the emperors, and played into this belief by having deceased emperors formally recognized as new gods in the pantheon.
For medieval kings in a pre-Reformation Christian world, this meant rituals like a coronation and frequent, visible attendance at Mass, with the Church providing clerical sanction.
Above, Pope Adrian I crowns Louis (“the Pious”) as King of Aquitaine while Louis’s father, Charlemagne watches. Note how the divine mandate (via clerics, who represent God) are being used to pre-emptively solve a succession crisis that Charlemagne would not be able to solve with violence (since he’ll be dead by the time it matters). And it worked. Louis inherited his father’s kingdom and it survived another generation.
If King Licett the Conqueror wants to become King Licett the Beloved, then he had better get cozy with whatever gods, goddesses, divine forces, or heavenly powers are well-worshiped in his new lands.
2) Historical Heritage
Another way to legitimate one’s rule is to show that you are, in some way, the rightful successor to an earlier power that is already considered legitimate. THis is why things like royal titles mattered so much.
For instance, both the Ottoman Caliphates and the Austrian Habsburgs portrayed themselves as the heirs to the Roman Empire with real-world effects on warfare in the Mediterranean.
Thi is not limited to titles and symbols. To use a fantasy example: Saruman recruits the Wildmen of Dunland as allies in his war of conquest against Rohan. He does this by promising the Dunlendings that he will restore the lands that were taken from them by Eorl the Young (i.e. the Eorlingas, the Rohirrim). To the Dunlendings, Theoden is an illegitimate conqueror, but Saruman portrays himself as the restorer of historical heritage.
King Licett should do the same, linking his rule to a historical precedent or placing past historical grievances at the center of his platform.
3) Representation
In liberal democracies, we’re very familiar with the idea of a government by representation. Indeed, long before the philosophy of liberalism came to the fore in the 18th century, a leader could find mechanisms to let his subjects have some say in the decision-making. This would get them to buy into the system, since they stand to gain from it.
This effectively trades “power” for “legitimacy.” King Licett can’t act so unilaterally, but more people will support the regime of their own accord.
There’s another kind of representation too, which has nothing to do with sharing power. It’s basically just the idea that whoever’s in charge is in some way a worthy representative of the common people. Oftentimes when pre-modern societies fought for “liberty” or “freedom,” they really just looking for communal autonomy, even when the community was rigidly hierarchical. Athens may have equated liberty with democracy, but Sparta—the staunch oligarchs and pseudo-eugenicists—certainly did not! Nonetheless, Sparta fought for “liberty” against Persia, then Athens, then Thebes, then Macedon. Likewise with the Gauls against Julius Caesaer: had they won the (extremely bloody) war against Rome, they would have continued their semi-state existence, likely without a single leader but nonetheless ruled by a dominant class of warrior-aristocrats.
One of these kings (in Sparta, Gaul, etc.) could claim to represent his people because he was one of them, his home was there, his wealth came from there. “The king speaks for us because he’s one of our own.”
If Licett conquered his new kingdom from a distant land, this “one of us” option may be off the table. He should instead look for ways to bring representatives into the fold, perhaps by elevating local aristocrats into power, or by marrying a local lady. Failing that, he may need to trade some power away for legitimacy through some features of representative government.
4) Rewarding Obedience & Stability
Of course, if all of those options are out, Licett would do well to simply reward those who support his regime. The obvious mechanism for a medieval-ish king to do this is vassalage: giving huge tracts of land to people who support him, in exchange for their continued support. (There’s A LOT more to vassalage than that but I don’t have time). He could also give prestigious gifts to keep people loyal (simultaneously demonstrating to everyone else the benefits of supporting you).
But rewarding obedience (or acquiesce) to the regime goes all the way down the social ladder. Licett can “reward” everyone for maintaining the status quo by making sure the status quo is as good as possible.
People will view a leader as legitimate if they do good things for them; Licett should support commerce by building roads, opening markets, creating bridges, maintaining rivers5, and generally creating laws that support trade.
A big part of supporting trade—and being legitimate—is public safety. It goes without saying that people will support a regime that makes them safe and keeps them safe.
Many a medieval king elevated his status with the common people (and took power away from unruly vassals) by creating appeals courts. If a subject did not like the verdict that their lord (say, a count or a duke) gave them, they could appeal to a higher court, that is the king’s court for a new verdict. The king could also grant town charters, which gave specific communities particular rights which benefited and protected them. These rights (and their corresponding obligations), would give more people buy in for the status quo.
There’s all kinds of other rights and privileges that a king might bestow in his subjects (in particular, to specific people, or generally) to help people buy into his reign.
Now you might say that building roads and maintaining safety is precisely what a ruler is support to do anyway. And you’re exactly right. A ruler will be seen as legitimate if he does all the ruler-ish things.
Because…
Legitimacy Builds on Pre-Existing Culture
To go back to my earlier point that people of the past generally believed what they said they believed, I was mostly trying to argue against the idea that religion was only ever a tool for social control, or else was only ever “believed” by a small number of zealots. This is a modern assumption that people project backwards.
Religious (or religious-adjacent) rituals mattered. Why did coronations happen at all? Because in the Christian West, there was widespread belief in the Catholic sacraments, which claim to alter spiritual realities through human action in cooperation with God. Therefore, when a king was crowned, he was also annointed just as Biblical kings were annointed (and just as happens in several Catholic sacraments). This ritual would, in the eyes of its contemporaries, change the reality of the person. They were no longer merely a man, nor merely a nobleman, nor someone of higher birth. They were a king, something higher. Something changed that made them worthy to rule. It made them legitimate.
One reason we can be sure that people trusted in religious claims is simply because rulers would coopt them and try to shape them (oftentimes quite successfully). If no one really believed the Church in the Middle Ages, Charlemagne would have had no reason whatsoever to be crowned by the pope, let alone to wage several wars on the pope’s behalf as a way to legitimize himself as the defender of the faith. If the Romans never actually cared about the gods, it would have been useless for Octavian/Augustus to claim that his adopted father, Julius Caesar, had become a god. If people—commoners and elites alike—didn’t believe in the need for the divine to sanction their leadership, then places like Hagia Sophia or the Dome of the Rock simply would not exist.
It is the same with non-religious cultural expectations as well. Notice how most of the legitimizing factors I listed above require our King Licett to obey the expectations of the culture he rules over. Be blessed by our gods. Be a part of our history. Be one of our own. Do what we need you to do.
This goes far beyond governing. In a martial society—or in a government system like feudalism where the main power-players are all warriors—then a leader will be expected to command armies rather than delegate, possibly even leading the charge literally.
This Homeric expectation is why King Philip II of Macedon lost an eye, got countless scars, broke his collarbone, and had his legs wounded enough times that he walked with a severe limp… all before he died at age 46.
His son, Alexander (the Great) wound up having to adapt to Persian customs once he’d conquered it as a way to legitimize himself as the Persian shahansha, which in turn lost him credibility among some of his more conservative, Macedonian generals who did not like to see their beloved King “going native.”
Some societies expect a leader to give frequent gifts of gold. Others expect him to hold court and enact justice. Others expect religious observances. Many societies expect all three.
Whatever the culture demands though, the king ought to do it.
Legitimacy is Limiting
The last point I’ll make here—and this comes back to the nuance of conflicts—is that any form of legitimacy for any government is inherently limiting; in other words, whatever action a ruler takes to establish themselves as the rightful ruler in the minds of his people, that action will also prevent him from taking other actions, or else he will lose his legitimacy.
If he wins people over by granting certain rights and privileges, he can’t take it back or else he’ll be in worse shape than before. He must protect those rights. If he grants a fief (huge tracts of land) to a supporter, he will likely be unable to remove him (or his heirs) except by war.
If Licett wants to “use” religion to get some sort of divine mandate or blessing, then he will have to abide by divine laws. Henry II of England learned this the hard way: he soft-ordered the killing of Archbishop Thomas Becket in 1170, and it threatened his legitimacy so greatly that submitted to a very public and humiliating penance. In the emerging Islamic world of the 8th century, many a would-be Caliph was assassinated for insufficient submission to religious law.
Meanwhile legitimacy comes with obligations as well as limits. A Norse viking leader was required to seek out victory in war and the corresponding loot; failure to do so would lead to his men abandoning him. On a larger scale, if a ruler claims to be the inheritor or guarantor of some historical precedent (“We’re the heirs of Rome!”) then there will be an expectation that act on it; perhaps this means uniting a disunited region, or expanding the borders, or building up particular institutions (at the ruler’s expense).
And it should also be noted that if a ruler decides to eschew all this and go full Reign of Terror, that too is extremely limiting, because it means he must always project strength and never back down, or else the fear will lose its hold on people.
All this to say, often enough wars happened because leaders need them to help legitimize their sovereignty. King Philip II of France didn’t want to go on Crusade in 1189, but he had a serious prestige problem, with his rival, King Richard “the Lionheart” of England wholly owning most of France. When both Richard and the Holy Roman Emperor said that they personally were going on the Crusade, Philip simply could not refuse. He had to go, at great expense, and he had to fight.6
On the other hand all four of our “legitimizers”—divine mandate, historical heritage, representation, and rewarding stability—all actually work to limit conflict at some of the time. If God says you shouldn’t kill people, it’s a bit hard to be both his representative and also kill a whole lot of people. Historical heritage might help you go to war (as Philip II of France did when he was reconquering France from the English) but it did not help him control Flanders (because he was not Flemish). If you seek to represent XYZ community, then going to war will delegitimize you unless its (a) defensive or (b) actively helps that community through victory, which ought not be in doubt. And since war is inherently destabilizing, it is unlikely that the common folk will look kindly upon you for your wars of choice (although it often mattered more what the aristocrats and other elite power-brokers thought).
Last Thought
Why am I telling you all this?
Like I said at the top, it’s not about creating a historically accurate fantasy setting (though I do love me some historical fantasy). Rather, I want to encourage you—especially all my writer friends out there—to think about the larger “why’s” that underpin fictional settings. It will make you a more observant reader, a more critical thinker, and a better author. If you learn historical principles, then the “why’s” that underpin your writing will be things like, “because people are complicated,” rather than “because the world sucks and everyone was dumb back then.”
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Two quick notes before I go.
First, if you want to read about some of this legitimization in action, which I could not fit in this post, this note about Constantine, Charlemagne, the Capetian dynasty and all their flags shows a few of our “legitimizers” in action. You can also go research any of the historical examples I used.
Second, I know I mentioned that I hoped to have another story of Maldurian the Delver out to you all this week (first story here). I’m sorry that I don’t, and you got some historical stuff instead. Part of the reason I’ve moved to a slower cadence, however, is to make sure my fiction really sings. I had some travel, and I didn’t want to put out another story that had gone from "first draft” to “published” inside 48 hours. I want to give you something better than that. So Maldurian had to wait.
Anyway. Hope this has been helpful, or at least entertaining.
Thanks for reading.
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and I'm going to use a king here because he can be a stand-in for any other government. But let's keep it simple.
because he's make-believe, but also because its a pun for you monarchy enthusiasts if you can catch it.
For proof, look at how rapidly the authoritarian regimes of Eastern Europe collapsed in 1988-1990, with some of those states going from "some protests somewhere" to "there is no more government of any kind" in a matter of weeks; in the case of Romania, going from "people booed the leader during a speech for the first time" to "the leader is dead in a ditch" in something like 48 hours.
Indeed, there's quite a bit of evidence to suggest that the earliest mega-structures humanity built were religious rather than political or military. For instance, the Tower of Jericho is older than the invention of writing and was probably for some religious or astronomical purpose; likewise with Stonehenge.
Yes. Rivers require maintenance to keep them functioning as high volume travel-lanes. Why do you think there are so many “Royal Canals”? It’s the pre-modern autobahn.
And he promptly scampered back to France as soon as his bare minimum duty was done. But let this be a counter-example for anyone who says that only vagabonds and destitute "second sons" went on Crusade out of opportunism and greed. Many elites bankrupted themselves to go, often with little to gain in terms of land or power.
What an excellent article! And it has resurfaced a question I’ve been pondering about my world-building, which will probably matter to nobody but me, but will probably bear future story-fruit!
Funny thing, already knew all this and have a tendency to apply all these ideas as I'm a historian by trade or was, and so have always thought that a true monarch combines all of these legitimizing factors, so good on you for noting all of this mon ami.