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This chapter introduces the concept of banishment. It discusses the return of banishment through the stories of three individuals in Seattle, who supposedly violated the trespass law and drug traffic loitering ordinance. It then analyzes the return of banishment, which is widely considered as an archaic legal practice. Another archaic legal practice discussed in this chapter is the revival of police power. The chapter also explains why the study focuses on the rise of banishment in Seattle and provides an outline of the chapters that follow.

This chapter tries to explain why banishment reemerged as a leading social control strategy. It lists several developments that contributed to its rise, such as the increase in the homeless population and public concern about disorder. It studies broken windows policing and the invalidation of loitering laws and vagrancy. It also identifies some alternative social control mechanisms, including civility and banishment.

This chapter examines the social geographies of banishment. It uses police records and other data sources in order to identify central patterns, such as the dominant use of banishment to control the socially marginal. It observes that banishment is geographically concentrated in certain locales, especially in downtown areas with pronounced poverty and gentrification. This chapter concludes that banishment is used on some of the most disadvantaged urban residents, such as those who are perceived as nuisances.

This chapter shows that mid‐ and late‐ seventeenth‐century booksellers' catalogues designate public theatrical masques, Interregnum closet pieces, and Restoration operas as “masques.” Masques were more than nonce works, instead retaining commercial appeal long past their performance dates. This chapter cross‐reads masques from different venues, contained within plays, intertextually mentioned in pageants, parodied in ballads, and recorded in gossip. Masques' habitual intertextual allusiveness contributes to the genre's self‐conscious explorations of how drama constitutes authority, their canniness contradicting New Historicist symptomatic readings. Case studies include two intertextually related masques of 1617–18 (White's Cupid's Banishment, produced by a London girls' school, and Jonson's courtly Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue); a cluster of 1630s masques of temperance (Milton's Ludlow masque Comus, Davenant's courtly Luminalia, Thomas Nabbes's public theatrical masque Microcosmus, Thomas Heywood's Lord Mayor's show Porta Pietatis); and Shirley's spectacular 1634 Triumph of Peace.

This chapter describes a court case in Aintab involving a teacher named Haciye Sabah. It explains that in July 1541, Sabah was sentenced by the judge to public humiliation and banishment from the city after she was found guilty of violating the practice of gender segregation by allowing males to be present at the religious-instructional classes for females which she ran in her own home. The chapter argues that this case reveals the reactions that are provoked when a woman has influence beyond the conventional roles ascribed to her sex.

This chapter focuses on two forms of punishment during the early Umayyad period: public humiliation and banishment. These two forms of punishment are especially, although not exclusively, associated with offenses involving questions of gender and sex. They are also frequently paired despite of the apparent contradiction between displaying offenders to the public at large and hiding them away in remote places for exile. Public humiliation or tashhīr and banishment nafy were used as measures against the poet's tashbib, transgressions against the line of gender segregation, and hija to maintain the social and moral fabric of the Muslim society. Although the measures such as banishment and public humiliation did not fit comfortably into the moral system of the shari'a developed by the jurisprudents, these forms of punishments were seen as effective measures for persevering public morality. These two forms of punishment had the effect of casting out the offender from a respectable society, however, banishment was a failed experiment as it merely moved the offender from one part of the Islamic community to another. However, this form of exile gradually changed when banishments to remote places and imprisonments began to take place.

The United Nations Committee on Human Rights exists under Article 28 of the UN Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. One of its functions is to study reports submitted by the states parties — in fact, mostly by ‘a constructive dialogue’ with the state party concerned. States parties to the Covenant may become parties to an Optional Protocol allowing the Committee to receive and consider ‘communications from individuals claiming to be victims of violations of any of the rights set forth in the Covenant.’ Article 12 deals with the right of freedom of movement as a whole, including, in Article 12(2) and 12(4) respectively, the right to leave and the right to return to one’s own country. This chapter deals with the right in Article 12(1) — the right to liberty of movement and choice of residence within a territory. It examines the problem of internal banishment, the question of expulsion or deportation (external exile), and case law of the Committee.

“Bad subject” is a pooled, transnational category used to describe recidivists, forgers, vagrants, indigents, and mendicants. Authorities applied a common set of sanctions to bad subjects: deportation, banishment, and removal of protection. “Bad subjecthood” was nationality’s double: a status category that turned subjective description into an official determinant of life chances, a legal fiction that became an article of official consensus. By the First World War, explicit reference to bad subjects had largely disappeared, as its social control functions were absorbed into nationality.

This chapter talks about the suspension of banishment to the Great Northern Wilderness and the post-banishment experiences of political exiles, showing that the mass deaths in the borderlands and countryside prompted the central government to evacuate rightists. In the early 1960s, the majority of Beijing rightists were allowed to leave the army farms, and the ultra-rightists in Xingkaihu were also transferred to the interior. These ex-inmates, however, still bore the stigma foisted upon them as a result of consciously designed state policies; consequently, they were discriminated against and were unable to resume their normal lives until they were finally rehabilitated in the post-Mao political thaw.

Archaeological studies tend to examine prisons as individual sites that order space and restrict mobility. Prisons are not isolated places, however. They are distributed across vast landscapes, forming carceral archipelagos that serve the purpose of removing undesirable populations from political life. Over time, this practice of social banishment has given shape to what I call “topographies of removal”—a geography capable of obscuring the political violence of prisons. Rethinking the archaeology of prisons means revealing the historical silences and blind spots contained in these topographies.

This chapter analyses banishment, exile and penal transportation within and between colonial South and Southeast Asia, and across the Indian Ocean, during the period c. 1790-1920. It examines the cultural appeal of such sentences, the continuities between pre-colonial and colonial statecraft, and how they became bound up with larger imperial agendas of labour extraction, colonization and frontier expansion. A central focus of the chapter is on how the exiled, banished and transported viewed their sentence. The chapter will suggest that despite official concerns that penal transportation was not deterrent, many convicts and their families felt keenly the social, cultural and religious impacts of their forced shipment overseas.

The deposition and banishment of indigenous rulers who resisted conquest (and sometimes the abolition of the dynasties that they represented) offered a frequently used strategy for the establishment and consolidation of colonial rule. In 1815, completing their takeover of Ceylon (Sri Lanka), the British deposed and exiled the last independent ruler on the island, King Sri Vikrama Rajasinha of Kandy. The king remained in detention in India, along with his family and courtiers, until his death. This chapter examines the circumstances of the king's overthrow, his life in exile, and his posthumous place in the historiography. It shows how colonial overlords easily dispensed with rulers who did not suit their purposes, all the while mobilising elements of the regal and sacred character of pre-colonial regimes. It argues that colonial authorities nevertheless remained concerned about movements to restore old rulers or dynasties and that artefacts such as the regalia of deposed monarchs retained symbolic power for colonised peoples.

This chapter is about the company’s most prized possession in America—Brazil—and the Dutch effort to reform it and make it a Protestant New Holland. Brazil deserves its own chapter because it was the center of Dutch attentions. As the only lasting conquest, it is the only measure of Dutch rhetoric; it serves as a model of sorts for how they may have proceeded in other Catholic lands if they hadn’t overextended themselves. Where the WIC was strong, they replaced Catholic worship, appropriated property that supported the Catholic priesthood, and banished priests. Clergy even monitored marriages and other relationships and banished women who did not meet their standards. Despite Governor Johan Maurits’s attempts to appease the Portuguese, Calvinist reforms exacerbated religious tensions and provoked the Portuguese revolt of 1645.

This chapter is about religion and reform in New Netherland and other colonies. It seeks to unravel the religious rhetoric surrounding New Netherland’s political transformation and look at changes implemented after 1647 by Governor Petrus Stuyvesant, a staunch Calvinist. He issued new laws and supported the clergy in their war against non-conformers, who faced various punishments for their religious choices. Anxious to attract more settlers, Calvinists nevertheless banished and deported some Lutherans and Quakers. Just as they were doing in Brazil, they deported people who flouted moral standards, too. Brazil’s woes during the ongoing Portuguese revolt served as a reminder of God’s wrath and a spur to even greater reform. Colonies like Curacao, facing similar issues and concerns, sometimes chose the same path.

This two-part chapter deals with transitions large and small, public and private. With her banishment in 1859 and the deaths of Tokugawa Nariaki and Ii Naosuke in 1860, Tokiko’s foray into engaged activism came to a close. Four years later Tokiko chronicled the Mito civil war. With the balance between chaos and cosmos compromised by these transitional moments, Tokiko adapted to times that kept on changing, while still using the cosmic forces to restore harmony in the face of discordance.

The Maroons had been promised that they would not be deported from Jamaica, but the colonial government betrayed them. The Jamaican colonial government, comprised of wealthy sugar planters, had hoped to avoid metropolitan meddling with their affairs. But in an era of abolitionism, the deportation of the Maroons captured attention, and the Jamaicans had to justify the forced relocation of a free people a “humane” measure.

This chapter focuses on the last years of Baltazar Orobio de Castro, and his mother and sisters, in Spain. On April 13, 1658, after Baltazar's pleas to the Council of Madrid were accepted, the Supreme Council of the Holy Office resolved to let the five prisoners go free, to release them from the obligation to wear the sanbenito, and to impose upon them penalties conducive of ‘spiritual refreshment’. The Council further gave orders that ‘they be banished from the city of Seville and from the localities in which they had committed their sins, also from Madrid [and from all areas] within six leagues of the places mentioned for a period of two years; nor might they settle in the ports [or in areas within] twenty leagues of them’. The French towns close to the Spanish frontier constituted staging-posts for crypto-Jews who succeeded in escaping from the claws of the Inquisition. By August 20, 1660, Baltazar was already in Toulouse, as is shown by a document of the local university. The chapter then looks at Baltazar's associations with the Prince de Condé and the King of France, Louis XIV. Towards the end of 1662, Baltazar de Orobio, together with his wife Isabel and their son and daughter, arrived in Amsterdam, where they encountered an organized Jewish community, the majority being former crypto-Jews or the issue of crypto-Jews who, once safely there, had commenced open observance of Judaism.