ELIE KEDOURIE Nationalism and Self-Determination

It is sometimes argued that there are two or more varieties of nationalism, the linguistic being only one of a number, and the Nazi doctrine of race is brought forward to illustrate the argument that there can be racial, religious, and other nationalisms. But, in fact, there is no definite clear-cut distinction between linguistic and racial nationalism. Originally, the doctrine emphasized language as the test of nationality, because language was an outward sign of a group's peculiar identity and a significant means of ensuring its continuity. But a nation's language was peculiar to that nation only because such a nation constituted a racial stock distinct from that of other nations. The French nationalist writer, Charles Maurras (1868-1952), exemplified this connexion between race and language when he remarked that no Jew, no Semite, could understand or handle the French language as well as a Frenchman proper; no Jew, he remarked, could appreciate the beauties of Racine's line in Berenice: 'Dans l'orient desert quel devint mon ennui.' It was then no accident that racial classifications were, at the same time, linguistic ones, and that the Nazis distinguished the members of the German Aryan race scattered in Central and Eastern Europe by a linguistic criterion. [... ]
In nationalist doctrine, language, race, culture, and sometimes even reli¬gion, constitute different aspects of the same primordial entity, the nation. The theory admits here of no great precision, and it is misplaced ingenuity to try and classify nationalisms according to the particular aspect which they choose to emphasize. What is beyond doubt is that the doctrine divides humanity into separate and distinct nations, claims that such nations must constitute sover¬eign states, and asserts that the members of a nation reach freedom and fulfilment by cultivating the peculiar identity of their own nation and by sinking their own persons in the greater whole of the nation. All these different facets of the doctrine are admirably summed up in an utterance of Schleier¬macher's: 'How little worthy of respect,' he exclaims, 'is the man who roams about hither and thither without the anchor of national ideal and love of fatherland; how dull is the friendship that rests merely upon personal simi¬larities in disposition and tendencies, and not upon the feeling of a greater common unity for whose sake one can offer up one's life; how the greatest source of pride is lost by the woman that cannot feel that she also bore children for her fatherland and brought them up for it, that her house and all the petty things that fill up most of her time belong to a greater whole and take their place in the union of her people!' Behind such a passage lie all the assumptions of nationalist metaphysics and anthropology. It may serve to distinguish nationalism from patriotism and xenophobia with which it is often confused. Patriotism, affection for one's country, or one's group, loyalty to its institutions, and zeal for its defence, is a sentiment known among all kinds of men; so is xenophobia, which is dislike of the stranger, the outsider, and reluctance to admit him into one's own group. Neither sentiment depends on a particular anthropology and neither asserts a particular doctrine of the state or of the individual's relation to it. Nationalism does both; it is a comprehens¬ive doctrine which leads to a distinctive style of politics. But far from being a universal phenomenon, it is a product of European thought in the last 150 years. If confusion exists, it is because nationalist doctrine has annexed these universally held sentiments to the service of a specific anthropology and metaphysic. It is, therefore, loose and inexact to speak, as is sometimes done, of British or American nationalism when describing the thought of those who recommend loyalty to British or American political institutions. A British or an American nationalist would have to define the British or the American nation in terms of language, race, or religion, to require that all those who conform to the definition should belong to the British or American state, that all those who do not, should cease so to belong, and to demand that all British and American citizens should merge their will in the will of the community. It is at once clear that political thought of this kind is marginal and insignificant in Britain and America, and that those who speak of British or American nation¬alism do not usually have such views in mind.
Nationalism is also sometimes described as a new tribalism. The analogy is meant to indicate that like the tribe, the nation excludes and is intolerant of outsiders. But such characteristics, as has been said, are common to all human groups, and cannot serve to define either tribe or nation. But the analogy is not only unable to shed light on the matter, it can also mislead. A tribesman's relation to his tribe is usually regulated in minute detail by custom which is followed unquestioningly and considered part of the natural or the divine order. Tribal custom is neither a decree of the General Will, nor an edict of legislative Reason. The tribesman is such by virtue of his birth, not by virtue of self-determination. He is usually unaware that the destiny of man is pro¬gressive, and that he can fulfill this destiny by merging his will into the will of the tribe. Nationalism and tribalism, then, are not interchangeable terms, nor do they describe related phenomena.
Another assertion often made is that nation-states have been in the process of formation at least since the sixteenth century; but this, again, seems a confusion, which results from using nationalist categories in historiography. When the peculiar anthropology and metaphysics of nationalism are used in the interpretation of the past, history takes on quite another complexion. Men who thought they were acting in order to accomplish the will of God, to make the truth prevail, or to advance the interests of a dynasty, or perhaps simply to defend their own against aggression, are suddenly seen to have been really acting in order that the genius of a particular nationality should be manifested and fostered. Abraham was not a man possessed with the vision of the one
God, he was really the chieftain of a beduin tribe intent on endowing his horde with a national identity. Moses was not a man inspired by God in order to fulfil and reaffirm His covenant with Israel, he was really a national leader rising against colonial oppression. Muhammad may have been the seal of the Prophets, but even more important, he was the founder of the Arab nation. Luther was a shining manifestation of Germanism; Hus a precursor of Masa¬ryk. Nationalists make use of the past in order to subvert the present. One instance of this transformation of the past occurs in a letter written against Zionism by an orthodox rabbi of Eastern Europe in 1900. In this letter, the Dzikover Rebbe contrasts the traditional view which the community of Israel had of itself, and the new nationalist interpretation of the Jewish past. Bitter¬ness gives his speech a biting concision, and this letter thus exhibits in a clear and striking manner the operations of nationalist historiography, as well as the traditional interpretation which it has challenged. 'For our many sins,' writes the Rebbe, 'strangers have risen to pasture the holy flock, men who say that the people of Israel should be clothed in secular nationalism, a nation like all other nations, that Judaism rests on three things, national feeling, the land and the language, and that national feeling is the most praiseworthy element in the brew and the most effective in preserving Judaism, while the observance of the Torah and the commandments is a private matter depending on the inclina¬tion of each individual. May the Lord rebuke these evil men and may He who chooseth Jerusalem seal their mouths." Nationalist historiography operates, in fact, a subtle but unmistakable change in traditional conceptions. In Zionism, Judaism ceases to be the raison d'etre of the Jew, and becomes, instead, a product of Jewish national consciousness. In the doctrine of Pakistan, Islam is transformed into a political ideology and used in order to mobilize Muslims against Hindus; more than that it cannot do, since an Islamic state on classical lines is today an impossible anachronism. In the doctrine of the Action Françoise Catholicism becomes one of the attributes which define a true Frenchman and exclude a spurious one. This transformation of religion into nationalist ideo¬logy is all the more convenient in that nationalists can thereby utilize the powerful and tenacious loyalties which a faith held in common for centuries creates. These loyalties can be utilized even when they are not explicitly spoken of. There is little doubt that the appeal of modern Egyptian, or Pana¬rab, or Armenian, or Greek nationalism derives the greater part of its strength from the existence of ancient communal and religious ties which have nothing to do with nationalist theory, and which may even be opposed to it. The Patriarch of Constantinople Gennadius (d.1468) may illustrate the traditional religious attitude towards ties of race and language: 'Though I am a Hellene by speech, yet I would never say that I was a Hellene,' he wrote, 'for I do not believe as the Hellenes believed. I should like to take my name from my Faith, and if anyone asked me what I am answer "Christian".' But today, with the spread of nationalist doctrine, this opposition, between Hellenism and orthodoxy is itself rejected. Orthodoxy and Hellenism are thought to go together and imply one another, as witnessed in the civil war of which Cyprus has been the stage.
Similarly, when nationalist historiography applies itself to the European past, it produces a picture of nations slowly emerging and asserting themselves in territorial sovereign states. It is, of course, undoubtedly the case that a number of territorial sovereignties succeeded in establishing themselves in Europe in modern times, and that gradually these sovereignties were streng¬thened and made durable by centralizing kings who were able to defeat particularisms and to establish everywhere the authority of their agents and of their 'state'. But these sovereignties were far from being 'nations', as the word is understood in nationalist parlance. The Habsburg Empire was a most powerful state, yet it was not a 'nation'; Prussia was the state at its most perfect, but it was not a 'nation'; Venice was a state which lasted for centuries: was it then a 'nation'? And such states have to be cited in illustration of the political development of modern Europe. Yet how easy is the confusion when, not these, but other European states are being considered; for it is but one step from talking about the French state under Philip the Fair, Henry the Fourth, and Louis the Fourteenth, to talking about the French 'nation' and its develop¬ment under these monarchs. The continuity of the French state, or of the Spanish state, and their territorial stability, make it easy to adduce them as examples of the growth and development of European 'nations': the shift is vital, yet almost imperceptible. How vital it is may be appreciated when we remember that France is a state not because the French constitute a nation, but rather that the French state is the outcome of dynastic ambitions, of circum¬stances, of lucky wars, of administrative and diplomatic skills. it is these which maintained order, enforced laws, and carried out policies; these which made possible at last the cohesive existence of Frenchmen within the French state. it is such things which make possible the continuous existence of political com¬munities, whether or not they are the 'nations' of nationalist theory. The matter becomes even clearer when nationalist historiography is made to deal, not with certain countries in modern Europe, where it has a kind of plau¬sibility, but with countries in almost any other part of the world at almost any period of history. In the Roman Empire, the Ottoman Empire, Mogul India, pre-Conquest South America, or China the categories of nationalist histori¬ography, taken seriously, must lead to a contorted, paradoxical, untenable picture of the past. What nationalist historiography professes to explain in the case of modern France or Spain or Italy or Germany, it must in so many other cases, immediately hasten to explain away. The Ottoman Empire was not a 'nation', the Roman Empire was not a 'nation', and yet they were able, as few contemporary states have yet shown themselves able, to continue for cen¬turies, to maintain the cohesion of the social fabric and to attract the loyalties of men. This confusion between states and 'nations' is facilitated by a particular feature of European political history, namely the existence of a European society of states in constant intercourse and conflict, who regulated their relations, however unwillingly and imperfectly, by a universally acknow¬ledged ius gentium. Since nationalism sees the world as a world of many states, it seems but natural to consider a society of nations as the equivalent and continuation of the European society of states. But in reality the two are far removed. The European society of states knew a great diversity of govern¬ments and constitutions; a society of nations must be composed of nation-states, and any state which is not a nation-state has its title and its existence perpetually challenged. The national principle, then, far from providing con¬tinuity in European diplomacy, means a radical subversion of the European state system, an endless attempt to upset the balance of power on which the system must rest.
If nationalism cannot provide a satisfactory account of past political develop¬ments, neither can it supply a plain method whereby nations may be isolated from one another and constituted into sovereign states. The world is indeed diverse, much too diverse, for the classifications of nationalist anthropology. Races, languages, religions, political traditions and loyalties are so inextricably intermixed that there can be no clear convincing reason why people who speak the same language, but whose history and circumstances otherwise widely diverge, should form one state, or why people who speak two different languages and whom circumstances have thrown together should not form one state. On nationalist logic, the separate existence of Britain and America, and the union of English and French Canadians within the Canadian state, are both monstrosities of nature; and a consistent nationalist interpretation of history would reduce large parts of it to inexplicable and irritating anomalies. The inventors of the doctrine tried to prove that nations are obvious and natural divisions of the human race, by appealing to history, anthropology, and linguistics. But the attempt breaks down since, whatever ethnological or philological doctrine may be fashionable for the moment, there is no convin¬cing reason why the fact that people speak the same language or belong to the same race should, by itself, entitle them to enjoy a government exclusively their own. For such a claim to be convincing, it must also be proved that similarity in one respect absolutely overrides differences in other respects. What remains in the doctrine is an affirmation that men have the right to stand on their differences from others, be these differences what they may, fancied or real, important or not, and to make of these differences their first political principle. Of course, academic disciplines, like philology, can make a powerful auxiliary for such a political doctrine, and enable it to secure conviction and assent, but they do not constitute the ultimate ground on which it takes its stand. Ernest Renan, in his lecture of 1882, What is a Nation, saw that this must be the case, and having examined the different criteria which are used to distinguish nations, and having found them wanting, concluded that the will of the individual must ultimately indicate whether a nation exists or not. Even if the existence of nations can be deduced from the principle of diversity, it still cannot be deduced what particular nations exist and what their precise limits are. What remains is to fall back on the will of the individual who, in pursuit of self-determination, wills himself as the member of a nation. The doctrine occasionally appears in its pure state, stripped of academic flannel and acciden¬tal accretions. The Jewish nationalist Ahad Ha'am (1856-1927) has a passage in which he discusses the fundamentals of Jewish nationality. It is a mistake, he writes, to think that Jewish nationality exists only when there is an actual collective national ethos. No doubt this national ethos came into being in consequence of a life lived in common over a number of generations. 'Once, however,' he argues, 'the spirit of nationality has so come into being. . . it becomes a phenomenon that concerns the individual alone, its reality being dependent on nothing but its presence in his psyche, and on no external or objective actuality. If I feel the spirit of Jewish nationality in my heart so that it stamps all my inward life with its seal, then the spirit of Jewish nationality exists in me; and its existence is not at an end even if all my Jewish contemporaries should cease to feel it in their hearts.' Here are no superfluous appeals to philology or biology, no laboripus attempts to prove that because a group speaks the same language, or has the same religion, or lives in the same territory, it therefore is a nation. All this is casually brushed aside, and the nation, says Ahad Ha'am, is what individuals feel in their hearts is the nation. Renan's own description of the nation is that it is a daily plebiscite. The metaphor is felicitous, if only because it indicates so well that nationalism is ultimately based on will, and shows how inadequate the doctrine is in describ¬ing the political process, for a political community which conducts daily plebiscites must soon fall into querulous anarchy, or hypnotic obedience.
National self-determination is, in the final analysis, a determination of the will; and nationalism is, in the first place, a method of teaching the right determination of the will. [ ... I
But the restlessness was the work not only of the revolutionary legend; it proceeded from a breakdown in the transmission of political habits and relig¬ious beliefs from one generation to the next. In societies suddenly exposed to the new learning and the new philosophies of the Enlightenment and of Romanticism, orthodox settled ways began to seem ridiculous and useless. The attack was powerful and left the old generation bewildered and speech¬less; or if it attempted to speak, it merely gave voice to irritated admonition, obstinate opposition, or horror-stricken rejection, which only served to widen the rift and increase the distance between the fathers and the sons. [ ... I
This violent revolt against immemorial restraints, this strident denunciation of decorum and measure, was inevitably accompanied by powerful social strains which may explain the dynamic and violent character of nationalist movements. These movements are ostensibly directed against the foreigner, the outsider, but they are also the manifestation of a species of civil strife between the generations; nationalist movements are children's crusades; their very names are manifestoes against old age: Young Italy, Young Egypt, the Young Turks, the Young Arab Party. When they are stripped of their meta¬physics and their slogans—and these cannot adequately account for the frenzy they conjure up in their followers—such movements are seen to satisfy a need, to fulfil a want. Put at its simplest, the need is to belong together in a coherent and stable community. Such a need is normally satisfied by the family, the neighbourhood, the religious community. In the last century and a half such institutions all over the world have had to bear the brunt of violent social and intellectual change, and it is no accident that nationalism was at its most intense where and when such institutions had little resilience and were ill-prepared to withstand the powerful attacks to which they became exposed. This seems a more satisfactory account than to say that nationalism is a middle-class movement. It is the case that the German inventors of nationalist doctrine came from a class which could be called the middle class, and that they were discontented with the old order in which the nobility was predominant. But the term middle class is closely tied to a particular area and a particular history, that of Western Europe. It presupposes and implies a distinct social order of which feudalism, municipal franchises, and rapid industrial development are some of the prominent features. Such features are not found in all societies, and it would therefore be misleading to link the existence of a nationalist movement to that of a middle class. In countries of the Middle and the Far East, for instance, where the significant division in society was between those who belonged to the state institution and those who did not, nationalism cannot be associated with the existence of a middle class. It developed, rather, among young officers and bureaucrats, whose families were sometimes ob¬scure, sometimes eminent, who were educated in Western methods and ideas, often at the expense of the State, and who as a result came to despise their elders, and to hanker for the shining purity of a new order to sweep away the hypocrisy, the corruption, the decadence which they felt inexorably choking them and their society.
[Nationalism (Hutchinson: London, 1960),71-81, 99-102.]