While in the mushrooming discourse on globalization it is easy to discern a variety of suggestive tropes, interpretative schemes and standard scenarios, one particular kind of story recurs more frequently – and is told with more passion – than any other: the story of how the large-scale reconfiguring of the global political space serves the interests of an omnipotent sinister force. Different protagonists are cast in the villain’s role: some authors focus on American “hyperpower”, others on multinational corporations, and still others on the International Monetary Fund, the World Bank and their austerity programs. But the stylized narrative remains the same: there are actors out there who have the power to shape changing political landscapes in accordance with their economic and ideological interests.

As Federico Varese demonstrates in a major new book, the same formulaic plot runs through the literature on organized crime in the post-Cold War era. The conventional wisdom on the subject is that criminal syndicates are uniquely positioned to benefit from the unobstructed flows of people, resources, technologies and information in an interconnected world. Just like the powerful firms that transformed their brands into globally traded commodities, criminal bosses possess the managerial flexibility that allows them to migrate to new places, penetrate unfamiliar social, economic and political structures, and systematically exploit an array of opportunities for profit-making – as well as the institutional sturdiness that enables them to maintain presence in a multiplicity of locales. In fact, as the title of Misha Glenny’s acclaimed book McMafia suggests, pundits see no analytical reasons to treat ascending mafias as organizations qualitatively different from expanding international companies: as the planet becomes a tightly-knit kilt of seemingly disparate but structurally homologous spaces, the ability of both types of entities to get what they want is magnified.Footnote ¹ The massive empowerment of transnational criminal networks is therefore automatically posited as one of the most disturbing manifestations of “the dark side” of globalization.

Varese is not surprised by the fact that politicians of different stripes have no incentive to question this consensus: those on the Right play upon it in order to stoke anti-immigrant sentiments, and those on the Left invoke it in order to demonize what they call neoliberal pro-market policies. What he does find disturbing is that a similar reluctance to challenge the conventional wisdom permeates the writings of scholars and experts. The central message of his fascinating study is that, if the relevant data is carefully examined and methodically analyzed, many of the premises underpinning this conventional wisdom will have to be revised.

Varese’s empirical explorations focus on the attempts of particular group of agents – whom he calls “mafias” and whose strategic objective is “to govern others by providing criminal protection to both the underworld and the “upper world” – to carry out a particular kind of logistical undertaking which he calls “transplantation” which is defined as establishing “an outpost over a sustained period of time outside the region of origin and routine operation”. While critics might object that Varese’s definitions are too narrow and leave out illicit activities that cannot be construed as supply of protection (e.g. money laundering and drug trafficking), it is beyond doubt that his analytical enterprise addresses precisely the question of whether or not globalization facilitates the rapid increase of criminal groups’ transformative power. And the evidence he presents warrants the conclusion that experiments involving mafia transplantation are fraught with difficulties and therefore frequently fizzle out. More generally, the fate of such endeavors depends not on inexorable forces immanent to globalization but on a constellation of factors that are mostly structural and local in nature and over which criminals have very limited control.

Paired comparisons is the method Varese has chosen in order to systematize and analyze evidence collected after a decade of meticulous research. He compares the activities of the Calabria-based ‘Ndraghentta in Piedmont and Veneto; the Sicily-based Mafia in pre- and post-Prohibition New York, as well as Rosario (Argentina); and the Moscow-based Solntsevo fraternity in Budapest and Rome. This methodological choice is eminently sensible; it allows him to persuasively defend his central thesis: attempts by criminal organizations to transfer their operations may work, but may also be futile. The Piedmont, Prohibition-era New York and Budapest stories fall under the former category; the Veneto, pre-Prohibition New York, Rosario and Rome stories illustrate the latter point. The question scholars should be asking, then, is not why globalization invariably enables criminal syndicates to morph into seemingly unstoppable juggernauts, but “why in some cases mafia transplantation succeeded while in others it failed”.

Varese’s answer revolves around startlingly original and compelling interpretations of the two distinct acts that constitute the drama of transplantation: the decision to migrate to distant territories, and the actual experiences of relocated criminal cadres.

The point of departure for mainstream accounts of the spread of criminal activities is usually the decision of rational criminal entrepreneurs to avail themselves of the vast array of opportunities that globalization allegedly engenders. In such accounts, it is simply assumed that these entrepreneurs can easily grasp the general directionality of global change and accurately calculate the probable risks and potential benefits of expanding their operations. Hence the proper way to think about “the transformation of organized criminality into a transnational phenomenon” is supposedly as “a logical response to the effects of globalization on the local level”.Footnote ² Based on a careful examination of his cases, Varese offers a different argument: migration occurs only when criminals find themselves in trouble, e.g. when they lose an intra-organizational fight and are threatened with assassination, face an imminent arrest, or are forcefully displaced by law-enforcement officials (as under the Italian policy of suggiorno obbligato). The story of mafia transplantations does not begin with entrepreneurial excitement in the face of lucrative business opportunities – it starts when the hunters are turned into prey.

Varese’s empirically grounded narratives about what happens once the already weakened mafia factions reach their destination is also refreshingly unorthodox. At present, the main trope in the literature devoted to the subject is “taking advantage”.Footnote ³ What the trope implies is that, once transplanted, criminal groups almost effortlessly insert themselves in rapidly changing local milieus and maximize their revenue and power. What Varese asserts is that stories about how the Mafia takes over the world should not lull us into overlooking the fact that once transplanted, violent entrepreneurs face very difficult circumstances. Hence to conjure up the inexorable logic of globalization in order to explain their successes would be a misguided analytical strategy. The single most important factor that determines such successes is whether illicit local practices elicit an unmet demand for non-state protection. Mafia transplantation will work only if such a demand exists and it is not met by local providers. In contrast, it will fail if: (1) illegal entrepreneurial activities do not elicit demand for protection – as in Veneto, where the drug trade was handled by a community of dealers who maintained personal relationships based on trust and did not need outside enforcers; or (2) the needs of illegal traders are met by entrenched local actors such as corrupt police officials – as in pre-Prohibition New York. In other words, what migrating criminals may discover once they try to demarcate their new turf is that opportunities for plying their trade are hard to come by – and that even if such opportunities exist, somebody else might take advantage of them.

In addition to the main argument about the likelihood of Mafia failures, Varese’s book also offers a number of provocative observations that alert readers will surely find intellectually stimulating. Let me mention two.

First, Varese pushes us to rethink the reasonable proposition that civic capital might serve as a bulwark against the rise of corruption and criminality. Sometimes mafia cells are successfully transplanted in places – like Piedmont – where degrees of civic-mindedness are relatively high and civil society is fairly robust. If and when activists and honest politicians try to resist the spread of transplanted criminal organizations, victory by the locals is only one of the plausible scenarios. As Varese points out, it is also possible that criminal migrants will overpower their opponents – or, even more disturbingly, that available civil capital will be hijacked and used to push local politics “into the opposite direction of virtuous social engagement, with people being mobilized in order to support mafia-tainted politicians”.

Second, the book casts doubt on the rarely questioned opinion that corrupt municipal power-holders and law-enforcement executives will readily take bribes from, and establish collaborative rapports with, newly arrived mafia operatives. Drawing upon Peter Reuter’s important work, Varese maintains that the market for corrupt services is not open to all – it systematically favors indigenous actors who, having acquired a reputation as violent enforcers, are engaged in long-term relationships with the place in which they operate.Footnote ⁴ Concomitantly, it discriminates against outsiders whose ability to use violence is their sole logistical resource (cf. Reuter, p. 98). In other words, corrupt politicians are not purely rational revenue-maximizers who would readily sell services to strangers who happen to be the highest bidders or wield the biggest guns; their behavior is guided by calculations deeply embedded in local circumstances and local relationships. That globalization inevitably disrupts such calculations and the stable equilibriums they underpin is a hypothesis yet to be empirically proven.

Inevitably, some of Varese’s readers might be tempted to raise critical questions. Is the evidence about what transpired in Budapest in the 1990s sufficient to substantiate the claim that Russian migrants not only served as an auxiliary force hired by home-grown organizations but in fact were running the criminal underworld? How relevant is data about late 19^th century Argentina and early 20^th century New York to the study of 21^st century criminal syndicates? And if the fate of mafia transplantations depends solely on structural factors, why does Varese spend considerable time discussing intangibles like the entrepreneurial talent of Mafia leaders and the civic virtues of “a few dedicated campaigners who risk their lives to bring about a better world”? Such minor concerns aside, it is undeniable that Varese’s study is a remarkable intellectual and scholarly accomplishment. He approaches a difficult subject matter as it should be approached – with analytical acumen and methodological sophistication. He treats his protagonists as they should be treated – as ruthless entrepreneurs who are constantly forced to come to grips with various constraints, complexities and unforeseen problems. And he tells his stories as they should be told – as a balanced mixture of masterfully crafted narrative vignettes and methodical theoretical analyses. Mafias on the Move will undoubtedly confirm Federico Varese’s stature as one of the most astute and insightful contemporary participants in the ongoing conversation about the fate of transnational criminal groups in the globalization era.