Do you enjoy tales of kings in ermine cloaks and knights charging with lances? Then sit back, because in the chapter "Imperialism in Modern Absolute Monarchy" of The Sociology of Imperialism , Joseph Schumpeter takes us straight to the gilded palaces of rulers like Louis XIV and the windswept castles of the Tudors. Here, imperialism isn't the stuff of bankers in suits and ties, but of sword-wielding nobles and military castes dreaming of medals and epic poems. It's a world of crowns, battlefields, and unbridled ambition, where war is a ticket to glory—and never mind if the people foot the bill. Schumpeter guides us like a skeptical narrator, with that smirk of his that seems to say, "See? It's not about the money, it's about the ego!" Prepare yourself for a stroll through court intrigue and the clash of swords: this is the imperialism of crowns.
Imperialism from Versailles to Buckingham Palace
Imagine the scene: we're at the court of Versailles, Louis XIV—the Sun King—looks at himself in the mirror, adjusts his wig, and decides that a few more meters of border would suit him just right. He nods, and off they go: armies march, cannons fire, and the French nobility throws themselves into war as if it were a competition for prestige. Very rational, right? Not so much. Schumpeter emphasizes: this imperialism doesn't arise from an economic calculation like "we need more potatoes from Belgium." It's a matter of pure power , rooted in social structures as old as the hills. In an absolute monarchy, the king commands, the nobles obey, and war is their favorite sport. It's not about making profits, but about demonstrating who is the strongest, the greatest, the most "kinglike." Think of Louis's campaigns against the Netherlands: millions of lire wasted on gunpowder for a piece of land that, in the end, served his vanity more than the French people.
And the Tudors? In England, under Henry VIII or Elizabeth I, things didn't change much. The nobles were a warrior caste, raised to believe that fighting was their calling—and their ticket to climbing the social ladder. Schumpeter points out that these absolute monarchies had an internal engine: a nobility that lived for glory and a king who had to keep them busy, otherwise they'd start plotting in the castles. War became a way to vent energy, to give meaning to swords and armor that would otherwise rust. Take the Battle of Agincourt (1415, okay, a little before the Tudors proper): Henry V defeated the French, and the English nobles returned home covered in honors.
But what's the point, in practical terms? Little, except to say: "We are the best." It's what Schumpeter calls "objectless expansion": there's no concrete goal, only the thirst for domination.
…and the people pay!
Now, who pays for all this? The people, of course. Schumpeter makes it clear: while kings and nobles play to see who has the largest kingdom, peasants and artisans cough up taxes and sweat. Often without even understanding why. "Why are we fighting in Alsace?" "I don't know, the king wants it." It's a system based on an ancient mentality, where command is everything and everything else comes second. Schumpeter insists: this imperialism has nothing to do with modern capitalism, as Lenin thought. Lenin saw imperialism as the fruit of monopoly capitalism, a race for global profit. Schumpeter retorts: "Wait a minute, look at Louis XIV or the Tudors. Here there are no banks or factories, only crowns and swords." It's a drive that comes from afar, from pre-capitalist societies where power is measured in territories and subjects, not in balance sheets.
But there's a twist. While kings and their nobles enjoy waging war, a new force is emerging: the bourgeoisie. These merchants, artisans, and budding bankers dislike the follies of war. Schumpeter explains it well: the bourgeoisie wants peace, because in peace, business can be done. War means high taxes, blocked trade routes, and slumping markets—a disaster for those who live by trading. Consider a London merchant in 1600: he'd rather ship wool to Holland than finance another expedition against Spain. This tension is the seed of change. The nobility and kings see war as an end; the bourgeoisie sees it as an obstacle. And Schumpeter uses this contrast to show us that imperialism is not a universal law: it depends on who commands and how society is structured.
The revolution and the push back against imperialism "for glory"
Then comes the exception that changes everything: England after 1688. Schumpeter cites it as a unique case. After the Glorious Revolution, power passed from kings to Parliaments, and the people—or at least the important part, like merchants and landowners—put a brake on warmongering rulers. No more absolute monarchs who decide on their own to invade France because they woke up in a bad mood. Now consensus is needed, and the English, says Schumpeter, are not the type to sacrifice for glory. Remember Disraeli and his imperialist slogan? It worked as long as it remained just talk; when Chamberlain tried to get serious, they sent him home. In England, the people and the bourgeoisie said: "No, thanks, let's keep our money." It's a turning point that makes imperialism less "natural" than it seems.
This article is essentially a stroll through crowns and battlefields, with Schumpeter leading the way with his "I told you so " tone. He shows us an imperialism built on egos and swords, not bank accounts. It's a world far from our 2025, but the deep roots he describes are thought-provoking. Today we don't have Sun Kings, but heads of state flaunting military might or corporations colonizing markets. Is it really that different? Schumpeter leaves us with a doubt: imperialism may be ancient, but it's never dead.
Next up: "Imperialism and Capitalism." We put capitalism in the spotlight and ask: is it really the villain of the story? Spoiler: Schumpeter has a different opinion than Lenin, and he can't wait to explain it to you. It'll be a duel of ideas, with an Austrian economist debunking myths with a sneer.
