This book. From Baku to Ingolstadt, from the ground to the explosion: Marriot and Minio-Paluello are there, following oil through its extraction, transportation, and use and observing the social, political, and economic changes that its passage causes. There are few books like this: political geography from the ground up. There are remarkably few that are as keen-eyed as this one, or as capacious.
For each region that the piped oil crosses, the authors devote time to the particular history, culture, and politics that charactize that region. Along the way, they track the machines that produce globalization itself, with the concomitant reality of total integration (of our commodity fetishes) and total disintegration (of many social relations and even of state governance). The oily sheen of British Petroleum (or BP plc, these days) covers all, but so too does the looming ecocidal force of such cultural imperatives that demand oil and that oil enhances and facilitates.
I was frustrated often through the text, as Marriott and Minio-Paluello seem to be trying to locate criticisms of oil extraction, transportation, and use in what are brutally known as the minutae of infrastructural change - the communities that are inconsistently recompensed for their lands, the people whose lives are turned topsy-turvy as contractors come through. Yet this does little to challenge the utilitarian calculus too easily made by many potential readers of The Oil Road, and while it is the foundation of social critique, it makes for oddly powerless reading.
Stronger are the thoroughly intertwined stories of oil exploitation and modernity, from the fascists of Italy to the Stalinists of Russia - and the vulture capitalists of Great Britain and the United States of America. The material politics enabled by oil consumption and the vast wealth amassed and wielded like a blunt weapon are shocking, and the effects of this on Azerbaijan, Georgia, Italy, Germany, and so on are striking. In terms of political anthropology, the authors have done irreplaceable work. East stop is a minatory essay on the gears that power structures of global control; each city and every town is revealed for its relationships with the global economy built from ecological destruction. There is despair, but hope as well.
And you know, I haven't really even touched on what makes this such a good book to read. The authors keep the text accessible and are keen to ground their narrative in personal realities, shifting easily from stories of their interactions with BP security guards to the corporate suits whose deflections cannot mask the truth of their existence, and to their local interlocutors who are able to welcome Marriot and Minio-Paluello into their worlds. It's thick material anthropology, and that's precisely the best kind.