Image: Southern Arizona landscape with Santo
Today I'm going to write about the cities of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and Tucson, Arizona as cities on an imperial frontier. This is intended to be an exercise in reframing our understanding of the American experience in a globalized context.
A fortress city on an imperial frontier to me might bring to mind the Roman Empire or Star Wars, but I am here to say that description fits many American cities. First, we have to reconceptualize the U.S. in terms of empire. And secondly, we'll look at these two specific examples.
I'm not going to get into whether the U.S. could still be called an empire or a nation-state, but what I will say is that the U.S. is pretty much an empire — at least during its first 100 to 150 years. I mean, what is an empire? Isn’t it a territory or a cultural society or a state that is expanding by force?
And what was the U.S. doing but expanding by force throughout that period? We say it “bought” this or that, the Louisiana Purchase, the Gadsden Purchase, Seward’s Folly — but it bought these from people who didn’t actually control the land they were selling. They just said on a map, “This is ours,” but they couldn’t go there and do whatever they wanted. The people that lived in those places had their own laws and societies and probably even their own states.
Just ask the Spanish who tried to go too far north into New Mexico or into Texas, they ran into what was called the Comanchería. I don’t want to get too deep into it here, but there are many historical and ethnographic arguments for why the Comanche at this time constituted essentially a state, very much like the nomadic societies of the Central Asian steppe. They controlled land, resources, trade, had their own laws, and shaped the balance of power.
But on a European map, that land was marked Nuevo España. And now we can pivot.
The U.S. also encountered the Comanche Nation. It came into conflict with the Comanche and eventually conquered and colonized them. The same happened with many peoples across parts of North America.
To draw another analogy: look at early Rome. Before Caesar, it was a republic, if a flawed one. But we still call it the Roman Empire. Even in those early years, Rome had conquered Italy, parts of North Africa, the Iberian Peninsula, much of Gaul, Greece, and more. It was a republic expanding by military force.
Just as the United States did too.
After the War of Independence, the U.S. federal government, states, and settler militias pushed their way militarily into the lands of the Iroquois, the Ohio Valley nations, the Creek, Chickasaw, and others. Then came the Louisiana Purchase — which again, was claimed from a France that controlled little of what they sold. The U.S. took it and militarily occupied the rest. Then we went to war with Mexico and took most of the rest of the West.
To me, that looks very much like the pattern of an empire.
Let’s now talk about Pittsburgh and Tucson.
When Pittsburgh was founded, it was actually a French fort, a small one, at the far edge of the French Empire in North America. Then after a war, it was taken by the British and renamed Fort Pitt. A town formed around it: Pittsburgh.
By definition, it was already a frontier city of empire, first French, then British. After the Revolution, it became one of the westernmost settlements of the young American Republic. Strategically positioned at the head of the Ohio River, it became a center for inland expansion. And soon it had a university and early industry.
Just add some spaceships, and you’ve got yourself a sci-fi novel.
Tucson has a somewhat parallel story.
It was founded as a Spanish presidio, a military settlement at the northern edge of Spanish-controlled territory in North America. South of Tucson was Spanish law, Spanish society. North of it? O’odham, Apache, and other sovereign Native societies. Again, by definition, a frontier town of empire.
Later it became Mexican. Then, after the U.S.–Mexico War and the Gadsden Purchase, it became part of the United States.
Now, Tucson sits close to the border with Mexico — still a kind of frontier. Northern Mexico has historically been to Mexico what the West is to the U.S.: a rugged, sparsely populated, culturally distinct periphery. Think caballeros and cowboys. Tucson is a frontier within a frontier.
And I’ll say again, just add some spaceships, and it’s a sci-fi novel. Or swap the Spanish out for Romans, and it’s historical fiction.
So what’s the point of all this?
I’m arguing that we can reframe our worldview to understand that many of the patterns that shaped one society also shaped another, and that we are not so different from one another, even in our histories.
Events that happened in one place rhyme with those in another. This isn’t just an ivory tower idea, I believe it has a practical application. It offers a logical basis for what I’d call civilizational equality.
To understand that the same forces, like migration, conquest, empire, collapse, rebuilding have shaped all human societies is to level the playing field. It’s to understand that no civilization is uniquely superior. It’s to understand difference without hierarchy.
This is grounded in one of the oldest anthropological principles: that we evaluate societies in their own context. That we don’t assume our norms are universal. The classic example is the anthropologist who witnesses a ritual of consuming the dead and doesn’t judge, just tries to understand what that act means in that society.
I’m saying we can use this lens outside the classroom. To interpret our world and reframe our assumptions.
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