Political Dynasticism: Networks,Trust,Risk

Abstract

Political dynasticism is a persuasive phenomenon in South Asia. Yet, while political dynasticism has received ample attention at the national level, it has been almost systematically overlooked at the regional and local levels. In this article, we argue that political dynasticism at the local level is driven by conditions that are in crucial ways different from those that animate national politics. We use case studies and insights from the available literature both within and beyond South Asia to argue that, in a comparative light, three main elements stand out: reciprocity, trust, and failure. By zooming in on these elements we seek to explain political dynasticism as a political phenomenon that is enabled by particular conditions in the polity, and especially the nature of the state. These, we argue, help foment a dynamic within which political dynasticism is an understandable outcome.

Keywords

Dynasticism India networks trust the state dynastic politics

Introduction

Political dynasticism is persuasive in South Asia. But most political dynasties are not ‘national’; they are local, forming in states or districts or even single constituencies. Focusing exclusively on elected members of parliament (MP) or national leaders thus misses out on the social, economic and political dynamics in which political dynasties form, thrive or wither. This collection of ethnographically based case studies of five local political dynasties drives home three points. First, political dynasties are part of larger networks based on reciprocity, a mesh of relationships in which family relations constitute a common form. Political and non-political dynasticism blend together, and non-political dynasticism is both common and accepted. Our argument is that they blend because the distinction between political and non-political dynasticism is a false one. The networks that dynasties cater to do not follow neat lines of distinction between the political and the non-political. Second, a dynast holds together a network, and it is the network that is passed on to the heir or that in some cases selects the heir. Dynasticism is, in other words, not just family projects but network projects. In the oblique, nefarious and obfuscated world of politics and finance, trust is built on long-term relationships, on individual quirks that are placated and on family history. Trust is king in the world of opacities, dangers and mutuality that constitute politics. Third, political dynasties form and wither in a political competition that is fierce and where dynastic inheritance is no free card to success. The networks of which the individual heir is part or made part of, the caste associations, the entangled family history, historical trajectories and business alliances, are all crucial, but equally important are the personal qualities, the individual charisma or authority, or the lack there of for success or failure of aspiring dynasts. In our introduction, we work through these three areas of discussion.

Beyond Indian Exceptionalism

One crucial starting point for our endeavour is that dynasticism is not due to some deep Indian cultural principle or dynastic preference among Indian voters. The Bangladeshi case study in this collection underscores that political dynasticism may not just thrive under other political and historical experiences but may also display very similar qualities. More to the point, political dynasties can be found in many democracies.¹ Examples range from Brazil, Mexico and the USA in the Americas; Italy, Greece, Belgium and even Norway in Europe; to Indonesia, Thailand, Japan and the Philippines in Asia (Camp, 1982; Dal Bó, Dal Bó, & Snyder, 2009; Laband & Lentz, 1985; Mendoza, Beja, Venida, & Yap, 2012; Patrikios & Chatzikonstantinou, 2014; Querubin, 2010; Tusalem & Pe-Aguirre, 2013). There are many differences, in particular in degrees of persuasiveness. There are also differences in how important individual dynasties are in their country’s political web. In a sense, dynasticism to a large degree seems independent of a range of other qualities. Internationally, some states that experience political dynasties are fairly liberal democracies, and others are not. Some are relatively young as democracies, and others are not. Some move towards greater freedoms, and others move away. Some are advanced economies, and others are not. Again, Bangladesh can serve as an antidote to Indian exceptionalism, but as a whole South Asia represents substantial variation of political experiences and experiments.

In terms of extent, estimates vary for India and South Asia. The proportion of dynastic MPs in India came down a little in the 2014 Lok Sabha elections compared to the preceding parliament to 24 per cent according to one study and to 21 per cent according to another (Chandra, 2014; The Hindu, 2014). Kanchan Chandra calculates that among the MPs in the three Lok Sabhas from 2004 to 2014, no less than 27 per cent ‘were related to someone who was previously in an important position, and only 20 per cent to someone who was concurrently in such a position’ (Chandra, 2014, p. 25). These are extraordinarily high figures: one in the five sitting Indian MPs was related to another sitting MP. The picture is not dissimilar in Pakistan, although information is scantier. It has been suggested that Pakistan’s political culture is dominated by ‘a sense of dynastic entitlement’ among certain families and that more than half the seats in the federal and provincial legislatures are held by 102 families (T. Hussain, 2011; Z. Hussain, 2012).² The situation in Bangladesh, again, is not dissimilar, although reliable nationwide figures are hard to come by. A study of four elections in 10 constituencies found that about 30 per cent of the candidates were dynastic (Ruud & Islam, 2016; see also Rahman, 2013).

The candidates offered to the voters constitute the ‘supply side’ of electoral politics, and this is the easier side to analyse. The ‘demand side’, what voters prefer, is less easily investigated and information in general hard to come by. This requires detailed investigation of the qualities that voters look for in candidates and the actual ways in which they evaluate the different political leaders that are on offer (e.g., Nielsen, 2012, 2018; Price & Ruud, 2010). One quantitative study suggests that one in two Indian voters (46%) is willing to support dynastic candidates (Vaishnav et al., 2014). This figure too is extraordinarily high but probably also hides a lot of diversity of opinion and reasons for voting for a dynastic candidate. As recent studies have indicated that the small money gift that candidates give to voters at the time of election does not really impact on voter behaviour once in the ballot box (Björkman, 2014; Vaishnav, 2017, pp. 137–142), we can safely assume that as the voter cast his or her vote it is based on reasonably independent preference. In spite of these electoral freedoms and the reasonably level playing field, we still find the phenomenon of political dynasticism.

Investigating Dynasticism Ethnographically

Recently, there has been interesting and significant contributions to the understanding of political dynasticism in India. Pradeep Chhibber (2013) argues in an influential contribution that the absence of effective party organizations and of centralized financing combined have led to the emergence of dynasticism in Indian politics. The lack of strong civil society organizations to support political parties, such as trade unions or other organizations that may raise funds, manpower and ideological orientation, means that much of the onus falls on the party leader. Dynastic parties are defined by the central figure, he argues, and this central figure is central to the securing of funds that he also disburses (Chhibber, 2013, pp. 285, 291).

Chhibber’s focus is on dynastic political parties rather than dynasticism as such. Our local cases that are arguably more representative of the majority of subcontinental political dynasties suggest a much messier situation. Some dynasts, such as Churchill Alemao in Parobo’s Goan study, seem to be doing a lot of securing of funds and disbursing himself and conducting politics in a hands-on fashion. The Bangladeshi MP, Shamim Osman, has likewise a decisive if indirect hand in the dealings of his network. Other dynasts, however, are less clearly the focal point of the monetary flow or of political organizing. Few of our protagonists are party leaders. On the contrary, except when pushed aside, they prefer to remain as loyal party members and are mostly more successful as such.

The argument that in the absence of an effective organization, parties will tend towards dynasticism, is echoed in Kanchan Chandra’s (2016) recent study of democratic dynasties. She holds that ‘the organizational weakness of political parties’ is crucial to understand the tendency to prefer political dynasties. However, as she points out, the lack of a rule-bound system for allocation of positions seems not to differ much between the different political parties. Even the Communist parties tend to have a 10–15 per cent dynastic representation, and the more ‘rule-bound’ Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) still had higher percentages of dynastic representatives in the 2004 parliament than the All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (AIADMK), Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD) and Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP). The argument of an inverse relationship between ‘rule-boundedness’ and dynasticism is, in other words, not convincingly reflected in the data. On average, in the figures presented by Chandra, the disciplined BJP is as dynastic as the loosely organized Janata Dal (United) (JD[U]). Moreover, it is not immediately clear why institutional weakness should cause the logic of dynasticism to kick in, and not increased populism or increased institutionalization.

Another circumstance that Chandra identifies as important for explaining political dynasticism is ‘the high returns to state office’ (2016, p. 12). This is particularly connected to two key characteristics of the Indian state: one, that it is a ‘dominant state’ that controls access to state goods and services that affect the livelihoods of a majority of the population; and two, that it is a ‘discretionary state’ in the sense that elected public officials hold important discretionary powers over state resources (see also Chandra, 2004; Oskarsson & Nielsen, 2016). Although immediately plausible and recognizable to anyone who has had dealings with Indian politicians, there are questions to be asked to this assertion. If correct, there should logically have been a measurable connection between economic liberalization and dynasticism, but so far we have no global comparative analyses that would allow us to address this question empirically. More importantly, the claim that the neoliberal regime is the reason of increased dynasticism seems unconvincing. The growing attraction of public office should increase competition, not lessen it; rivalry should be fiercer and bloodier, and dynasticism should be challenged and on the decline. Unless, of course, one views (as we do in this issue) political dynasticism as projects of larger networks spanning the ‘political–non-political divide’ rather than merely projects of more or less extended but narrowly defined political families. Indeed, how one defines and delimits a dynasty appears to us to be at the heart of the matter. Basically, our stand is to offer no fixed and final definition of what constitutes a political dynasty (for a discussion, see Van Liefferinge & Steyvers, 2009). We take this position not in order to begin and end our analysis in a conceptual blur, but rather to challenge preconceived ideas about the morphology of political dynasties. For example, a father and a son in parliament may count as forming a dynasty: but should a grandparent and a grandchild count as one? Or an uncle and a nephew? Or two cousins? Besides, to use the term dynasty suggests conscious inheritance, which may or may not be the case. It is, for example, thinkable that the heir has a different political outlook. The BJP organizer in West Bengal, Mukul Roy, and his son, a member of legislative assembly (MLA), are now in different political parties. Although that may be accidental, the new circumstance affects the dynasty’s political clout and allows us to question whether this is, in fact, still an active political dynasty-in-the-making. And, although still in the same party, Akhilesh Yadav and his uncle are bitterly fighting one another, no less so than had they been unrelated enemies. So what is a dynasty if it cannot hold together, and if it indulges in fighting? Half of the Nehru–Gandhi dynasty’s currently active politicians are in fact in the BJP. And yet some hold that dynasticism is the Congress party’s ‘sole remaining organizing principle’ (Luce, 2004, p. 182).

We find that a more interesting approach—and one that follows from our acknowledgement of a wider persuasiveness of inheritance of privilege—is to look beyond politics and party organization. The contributions in this collection are based on long fieldwork, detailed interviewing and deep ethnography. They investigate the minutiae of dynasty formation, maintenance and success or failure. The investigations were open in the sense that there was no preconceived limitation to the kind of elements that were investigated and given importance in the narratives. We thus offer a collection—however small—of ethnographic investigations into political dynasticism that enables us to explore the phenomenon in its wider local context with all its interlinkages.

The crucial interlinkage of politics and business is brought out in several of the contributions to this collection and most notably in Parobo’s article on Goan dynasties. He points out how successful politicians maintain, serve and expand networks that include industrialists and businessmen but also bureaucrats. The comparison between Churchill Alemao and the Ranes underscores the argument: however different these two political dynasties are in the outset, the pulls and logic of electoral politics—with its demand for financing, employment and the right investments—have created for each of them similar-looking networks that work in analogous ways.

Other papers bring out other linkages. In Satendra Kumar’s investigation of a dynasty that has just made it to formal office, that of Yasin Qureshi, MLA, he underlines the importance of the larger social collective and the Qureshi family history and its role in that caste of Muslims. Yasin may be the first of his family to enter formal elected office, but he is not the first of his political dynasty. He was selected, pushed, because of his family background and was given opportunities others would not get because of this. On the other hand, he was not without personal credentials. His exhibition of the qualities of the masculine protector of the community as well as his reputation for violence gave a certain popularity. The questions raised in Kumar’s description of Yasin Qureshi’s political fortunes are taken up and investigated further in Lucia Michelutti’s study of Lady Dabang—a female ‘violent entrepreneur’ who desires her son to enter formal politics. This story exemplifies perhaps more than the others the pulls of innumerable political entrepreneurs in the subcontinent. Crafty and extremely successful in her own terms, an extraordinary figure, this entrepreneur however faces the same challenges as dynasts always do: how to pass on to the next generation those particular qualities that ensured authority and success in the first place? Comparably, in Ruud’s investigation of a several-generation deep dynasty in provincial Bangladesh the passing of the torch is proving problematic for lack of suitable material. Ruud’s study also points out that particular historical circumstances allow dynasties to form or thrive. The particular historical context of Bangladesh after its war of independence constitutes an environment much different from India in the same period, and yet the obscure administrative routines and the opaque processes of decision-making, even if starker in the case of the eastern neighbour, were not unfamiliar in India. The case from Bangladesh brings out the insecurity and opaqueness of both politics and business and helps explain the desire among people in business and in politics to hedge their bets.

Lastly, Uwe Skoda’s investigation of the political fortunes of two former Odishan royal dynasties with very different post-independence fates underlines that smaller dynasties—royal or otherwise—have no less a pedigree than the Scindias or the Nehru-Gandhis. They are several-generations deep, but also wide, and meet that inevitable challenge of several pretenders to the throne. Differences among relatives over strategy, clashing ambitions and rivalries ensured that even royal candidates did lose. More poignantly, however, is the starkly different fates the two families met with due to how their former kingdoms were incorporated into electoral politics. In this way, Odisha royals represent both the bewildering array of experiences of particular dynasties and the very different kinds of dynastic candidates that populate Indian politics. This latter point warrants further consideration insofar as ignoring this diversity would risk muddling our understanding. To put it simply, there are two ideal-typical dynastic extremes. At one end of the spectrum, we find the likes of Akhilesh Yadav or Stalin, son of Karunanidhi (see also Madsen, 2011). They are the sons of their prominent fathers and would in all probability not have had important political positions had it not been for this fact. But they are also seasoned politicians in their own right. They have proven their mettle. They have been in politics for decades; they have mobilized, organized, won and lost. Akhilesh tried to outwit his father and expel his uncle while Stalin outmanoeuvred his own brother.

At the other end of the spectrum, we find heirs that are the total opposite. These are typically represented by the widows or daughters of politicians who suddenly die, sometimes the sons or nephews. These inexperienced heirs are given the ticket, put on platforms to speak words not their own, and are the figureheads of campaigns they know little about and do not understand. Some learn quickly, some over time, and some not at all.

Most dynastic candidates, including the ones we present in this collection, are located somewhere in-between. They are local candidates, with some political experience, perhaps years of party activism or something else to their name or their family’s name. In Satendra Kumar’s contribution, the protagonist Yasin Qureshi is the son of a local leader and their family lineage places him at the centre of their small caste of Muslims. Yasin Qureshi is but one of the many that seek to make use of a family history as they run for office in one of the subcontinent’s thousands of constituencies and often-most as relatively junior members of their party. If their selection is challenged, it is challenged during the process leading up to the nomination. In some cases, the unsatisfied rival defects and may run as an independent candidate, but the proportion of successful ‘independent’ candidates remains small.

In addition to illustrating the diversity of individual politicians that appear as the figureheads of political dynasticism, the contributions in combination also show that the world outside of politics—be it business networks, caste associations or old ritual connections—is regularly mobilized or sought to be mobilized by actors seeking political influence. Dynasties thus cannot be studied in isolation, as a phenomenon that exists within the field of formal politics alone. They are part of wider networks—political or otherwise—that connect to ‘the rest’ of society in a manner that resembles the ‘mesh’ analysed by Barbara Harriss-White in India Working. Here, Harriss-White interrogates the porous boundaries that have developed between business, bureaucracy and politics (Harriss-White, 2003, p. 88). This situation, she underlines, is the outcome of a particular kind of capitalist development that has given rise to distinctive property relations and class forces—a meshed distribution of private wealth and public resources. It is in this mesh, we argue, that political dynasties form and thrive.

The Mesh

Very fundamentally dynasticism is, as we argued earlier, not unique to politics. It is one version of a socially widespread phenomenon, in which privileges and opportunities are being passed on to new generations. To limit the study of political dynasticism to party leadership or national parliaments is convenient but ignores how it is part of a larger picture of societal forces and mechanisms. From this larger picture we may learn two simple lessons. One is that dynasticism in the sense of preference for blood heirs is a very common phenomenon and a perfectly accepted practice in many circumstances. Businesses, wealth, land and buildings, for instance, are all passed on to the next generation with complete cultural acceptance and legal protection. It is also not unheard of in other professions, including organized labour in India where at least in some cases it was considered a worker’s right (see Parry, 2000; Sanchez, 2016). Moreover, in practice the different networks cannot be easily held separate. In the non-political world, family links are mostly expected to be supportive. A trader and his landowning brother will be expected to support one another and so will businessmen, lawyers, operators of bus companies and so on.

For holders of public office, whether by appointment or by election, the rules are different, and this is fairly well known throughout most societies. However, that family ties are uniquely persuasive and in almost imperceptible ways is suggested in a study of Swedish local government representatives (Folke, Persson, & Rickne, 2017). Although Sweden is famously uncorrupt, this study found that children of local mayors obtained higher average earnings than relatives of opposition leaders. The difference was about 15 per cent higher earning a decade after the father’s electoral victory or loss. The authors also note that the children of the mayor tended to a larger extent to remain in the municipality than the children of the opposition leader. Perhaps, the authors suggest, ‘private employers … are more likely to hire the mayor’s son or daughter—possibly at better conditions’. The same pattern but stronger was found in Italy by Gagliarducci and Manacorda (2016), who in a study for the Institute of Labour Studies point out that there is a clear monetary return for family members of leading local politicians. The authors point out that companies linked to politicians or to ruling parties (including through family ties) tend to perform better, gain more credit and ‘escape the burden of bureaucracy and regulation’. Another study by Khwaja and Mian (2005) of Pakistani banks shows that ‘political firms’, that is, firms whose directors have participated in elections, borrow substantially more from government banks and default to a significantly larger extent. In itself Khwaja and Mian’s observation about defaulting firms only suggests collusion, but as the authors point out family links in different directions are seen as crucial to the well-being of a firm. ‘Both firms and families hedge themselves politically’ and often have family members in opposing parties. It is thus not just possible but also plausible to suggest that political dynasties are but part of a larger mesh of relationships in which family relations constitute a common form.

Trust in an Opaque World

One suggestion we glean from the studies of business life is that dynasticism is part of a more general phenomenon to do with the uncertainties of the larger political, economic or institutional environment. Ward Berenschot suggests similarly that well beyond the realms of business, networks of trust is how most people solve everyday problems and seek to access state resources (Berenschot, 2015). Certain individuals bond together in networks because they trust one another. Some such networks coalesce around dynamic, charismatic or better placed individuals who form and shape the network, add new entrants and pass services. Such networks thrive on exchange of favours and services and are ultimately based on trust (for an excellent analysis of the Russian sistema, see Lebedeva, 2013). They may, but also may not, see a blood-heir take over as nature takes its toll on the first generation. Non-political dynasticism and political dynasticism easily blend together, and non-political dynasticism is, as we argued earlier, both common and accepted.

One pertinent Indian example to underscore how a certain type of network, in this case sugar cooperatives, blends into political networks is from Maharashtra. In his study of India’s new capitalists, Harish Damodaran points out that:

Every sugar mill is the leaven for a host of other cooperative enterprises: from dairies, consumer and lift irrigation societies, to banks, schools, and medical and engineering colleges. Each of these constitutes a giant empire, associated with a particular cooperative baron nominally elected by the farmer-members of that area. (Damodaran, 2008, p. 218)

In reality these barons are often dynastic and often indulge in local politics. The cooperatives of Maharashtra, he writes, are ‘self-governing republics headed by powerful chieftains’. Their interests are protected at higher levels by a ‘supreme commander who enjoys their confidence’. Among these were three Chief Ministers: Yashwantrao Balwantrao, Vasantdada Patil and Sharad Pawar. The ‘barons’ and the cooperatives they control sustain certain political careers.

Comparably, in his comparative studies of national-level dynasties in Southeast and East Asia, Mark Thompson made the argument that dynasties were indeed also about networks, or what he with reference to Thailand called ‘network monarchy’:

Though a loosely organized, informal institutional arrangement, the ‘network monarchy’ has allowed conservative forces in Thailand, chiefly the military but also leading industrialists and other members of the countries’ conservative circles, to coordinate their activities and avoid divisions that could weaken their influence. (Thompson, 2012, p. 209)

A similar argument that points to qualities within the organization rather than cultural notions is with reference to dynastic candidates in provincial Bangladesh. Here we argue that successful politicians are basically CEOs in charge of multipronged and heterogeneous enterprises, and that it is in the self-interest of members of the network to keep someone they can trust at the nave of the operation—for instance a son they all know (Ruud & Islam, 2016). A political dynast thus holds together a network in the oblique, nefarious and obfuscated world of politics. In this world, trust is built on long-term relationships, on individual quirks that are placated and on family history. Trust is a supremely valuable quality in the opaque world of politics and decision-making, and one’s ability to draw on a large network of friends, relatives and allies is a practical tool and also a symbol, a ‘talisman’ to use Lisa Björkman’s term, that says you know how things work (2014, pp. 628–629). Trust is the conduit through which effect is created without being seen.

For business people, dynasties are a safe network. In a situation of a cumbersome bureaucracy, inefficient public sector, unreliable judiciary and a pervasive public surveillance over the economy and private enterprise, it is common for private firms to prefer dynastic governance (Caselli & Gennaioli, 2013). This is not financially efficient, but it is a trade-off for a higher degree of control. The point that Caselli and other economists bring home is that trust is a valuable commodity and that in situations where trust is lacking, family ties become more important. This logic works equally well in the world of politics. A study by Tanner and Feder (1993) of ‘family politics’ in post-Maoist China underscores the point for Byzantine political bureaucracies. They suggest that in addition to the country’s ‘clannish’ and family centred cultural institutions and certain aspects of its educational history, what stands out in China is its bureaucratic culture ‘where reliable information is scarce and controlled’ and becomes an important political resource:

Faced with such a bureaucratic culture, it is hardly surprising that leaders often respond by creating ‘informal’ power networks, appointing relatives to carry out important and sensitive tasks. Family networks permit better communications and surveillance of policy implementation, and help top leaders circumvent the lower level’s penchant for secrecy. (Tanner and Feder, 1993, p. 97)

A network of trust is a crucial form of political knowledge. It enables you to navigate the opacities, dangers and promises of the poorly understood but palpably real processes of decision-making. When the central figure vanishes, the network is in danger of falling apart and everyone loses. Enter dynasticism.

Rivalries and Nominations

While dynasticism as a political project is thus embedded in networks of trust, an important part of the project’s realization in the domain of electoral politics is decided by the nomination process. In light of this, it is striking how the centrality of the nomination process is often overlooked in arguments about political dynasticism or indeed as central to political processes generally (Sartori, 1976; Schlesinger, 1991). The candidate nomination or selection process in essence illustrates how the political party functions internally and the different forces and mechanisms at play (Katz & Mair, 1995). Schattschneider (1942) suggests that the nomination ‘is therefore one of the best points in which to observe the distribution of power within the party’. True for the US politics decades ago, it is no less true for South Asian politics today. Without the party nomination, few candidates—dynastic or otherwise—succeed at the hustings and are hence deprived of an essential source of power. Once the nomination is clear, the fun is over. Dynastic candidates may thus lose to rivals even before the awarding of the ticket since, in most cases, it is not the father or uncle who alone manages the selection process. Our argument is that it is in the successful selection or nomination of the candidate that the strength of the wider network that undergirds projects of dynasticism simultaneously hides and manifests itself in the political arena—by appearing as a dynasty rather than as something else, it manifests power without disclosing the wider sources of this power. This is made to happen in what Michael Gallagher (1988) has termed ‘the secret garden of politics’. It is here that happen the backstage negotiations not over principles but over power, a process that is tremendously hard to access and analyse for outsiders but which registers in the public domain as the ‘odour of the electoral kitchen’, as Duverger (quoted in Gallagher, 1988, p. 6) calls it. But of course, even nominated dynastic candidates are often challenged, as our ethnographies show. Generations-deep dynasties, such as the royals of Odisha in Skoda’s chapter, the Osmans of Bangladesh in Ruud’s chapter and the different Goan dynasties in Parobo’s chapter, are all challenged at certain points and often lose out. Material collected for 10 constituencies in Bangladesh suggests that at constituency level dynastic candidates lose at the same rate as other candidates (Ruud & Islam, 2016). In India, the percentage of non-dynastic Lok Sabha members is over 70. It stands to reason that other forces than inheritance are at play.

Conclusion

This compilation of studies of local dynasties underlines the need for further research to understand the prevalence of dynasticism in India and elsewhere. Political dynasties, in different forms and degrees, exist in many political parties in functioning democracies. The puzzle that one man, one vote and equal right to run for office should germinate political dynasties is one that points to the fundamental issues in our understanding of political behaviour. By investigating local cases ethnographically, the contributions point to the particularly relevant fact of opaque states and decision-making procedures. In a situation where reliable information is scarce, the dangers of faulty information and opportunities in useful information are real and palpable, and a strusted representative with a reliable network of associates comes at a premium, in particular if he or she can draw votes. Popular notions of leadership and manhood do play in, as does violence. But in the end, it is the opaque nature of the state that enables the formation of dynasties.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The authors received no financial support for the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.

Footnotes

Notes

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