ANTHONY D. SMITH The Crisis of Dual Legitimation

The Crisis of Dual Legitimation
Why has the rediscovery and repossession of one's communal history, the cultural springboard of ethnic nationalism to this day, become so widespread and necessary a feature of the modern political landscape? The short answer is that historicism is a logical outgrowth of the Enlightenment and of all subsequent enlightenments. The longer answer is that such historical concerns spring from the characteristic divisions among secular intellectuals in search of a viable faith. [ ... ]
Central to this transformed position of the secular intellectual was the impact of rationalism and science. The significance of science as an 'effective' mode of cognition lay as much in the social as the intellectual sphere.1 It was not simply that science was a mode of cognition open to inspection and verification of results and capable of rational exposition and training; its wide range of practical applications in all kinds of circumstances, and the innovative spirit which its successes encouraged, nurtured a self-confidence in purely human faculties that most religious thought and traditional wisdom had denigrated. Faith in human powers of observation and reasoning demanded, moreover, complete freedom from any artificial constraints—social, religious or political—as well as from any intellectual dogma which might deflect or impede rational argument and rigorous experiment.
It was therefore of signal importance to the position of secular intellectuals, both in early modem Europe, and later on in Asia, Africa and the Americas, that rationalism and the scientific temper emerged within the matrix of societies still dominated by religious assumptions and traditions, and usually by ecclesiastical authority. This meant that the quest for scientific truths necessarily took on the nature of a crusade on behalf of freedom of enquiry and the superiority of human reason to divine revelation. It also meant that the educators had to count on opposition, and often repression, by traditional authorities who feared this challenge to their social and political position, as well as to their intellectual monopoly. Powerful, therefore, as the position of the secular intellectual might be, it was also precarious. Though rationalism and science had the potential to destroy the hold of faith on public life, and even disestablish the church, the danger which it constituted for the social fabric evoked immediate and deep antagonisms, which were to set their mark on the ethnic revival.
The very challenge which the educators posed also contributed to their political isolation. Kings, aristocrats and bureaucrats feared the attractions which their ideas might have for wider sections of the population, as much as the radical connotations of the ideas themselves. In some cases, 'enlightened' rulers might coops a few of the intellectuals and implement aspects of their programmes of reform; but more shrank from such hazardous paths.2 Nevertheless, even the most reactionary could not remain totally immune to the new ideas or the pervasive influence of the educators. For one thing, few societies enjoyed complete isolation from alien influences; and, in any case, none were free of those social discontents, or political divisions, which allow new ideas to gain access and take root. Nor could rationalism and science be easily divorced from the technological successes which were its fruits in spheres as diverse as armaments and communications or manufacturing industry. Rulers could not easily reject the opportunities for greater effectiveness of control and political action which these technical innovations offered; and, while it was clearly preferable to adopt the techniques without the underlying assumptions, rulers soon found it necessary to compromise with the expertise disseminated by the educators.[…]
Let us return for the moment to the collision between rationalism and religious authority. The social context of this conflict was dominated by the emergence of powerful centralised government in a few key political units, usually under absolute monarchs or colonial bureaucracies representing centralised metropolitan states. The fact that the most advanced of these states were historical neighbours and came to constitute a well-defined diplomatic nexus or system of states in the selfsame early modern period which saw the birth of science and rationalism, meant that the new ideas and techniques, and their propagators, had more chances of adoption and dissemination than under feudal or imperial conditions. By its nature, the absolutist territorial state was a competitive unit; the hold of the ruler over his subjects depended upon his ability to succeed in the contest for wealth and power and prestige played out in European and colonial theatres. The Baroque splendours in which the kings lived were designed to impress their counterparts abroad even more than their subjects; but their success in this interstate rivalry in Europe and the colonies depended increasingly upon their ability to incorporate techniques and norms of efficiency into their political apparatus and social fabric. Interstate competition bred, therefore, not only [a] new 'national' sentiment [ ... ], but also those drives for scientific and technical modernization which became so characteristic of western bureaucratic states3.
How did this interstate competition affect the position of science and the educators in their conflict with established religious authority? On balance, it helped their cause far more than it impeded it. True, most rulers shied away from co-opting the educators into government, and their reform programmes were often timid. In a direct clash, rulers tended to favour the ecclesiastical authorities as part of the established order, which it was unwise to undermine. But, equally, the incorporation of scientific techniques and ideas into the ruler's bureaucratic apparatus—his army, administration and legal system—and the need to encourage secular education among wider circles, in order to produce enough qualified professionals to meet internal and external requirements, consolidated the position of the secular intellectuals and boosted their morale. The rapid growth in the number of such professionals, and the proliferation of educational institutions to train them, served further to entrench the role of the educators. Finally, the spectacular results achieved by the new kind of 'scientific state' with its streamlined and rationalised bureaucracy, confirmed the status of the intellectuals at the cost of religious authority.
At the spiritual level, too, there was a decisive swing towards rationalism and away from revealed authority. The very success of the rationalised bureaucratic state undermined both the negative evaluation of human capacities propounded by traditional religions, and, even more important, the efficacy and legitimacy of divine authority itself.4 Impressed by the effectiveness of collective action centered on the bureaucratic state, educated men and women began increasingly to doubt the religious assumption of God's omnipotence and His ability or desire to intervene in man's daily life or even in collective crises. At this point, the age-old problem of meaning, the philosophical antinomy of worldly evil and divine omnipotence and perfection, took on a new social and practical relevance.5 Doubting the efficacy of God's power to intervene in a mechanistic universe, the enlightened also began to question the justice of His dispensation and the legitimacy of His authority. Unable to accept traditional theodicies, and impressed by the evidence of human suffering and injustice, many secular intellectuals embraced radical ideologies which looked to man's collective efforts and political institutions to redress the world's wrongs.6
At the centre of this intellectual and emotional revolution lay a crisis of authority. The enlightened replaced the authority of religion and its cosmic dramas with that of the scientific state clothed in the garb of intramundane ideologies of progress. This new construct, the 'scientific state' and its centralised administration, was, after all, enormously impressive. It was also entirely man-made, a human and therefore flexible engine of social change. In the hands of a wise legislator, or well-attuned educators, this motor of modernisation, this solvent of backwardness and tradition-bound structures, could set mankind on the road to that rational harmony of his interests and fulfillment of his talents which had so long eluded him, denied as it was by his dependence upon the deities of conservative and pessimistic faiths. Hence, for many intellectuals, the state came to symbolise the opportunity for a breakthrough towards modernity, and out of the trough of dependence on outside forces beyond their control. And the more the absolutist state had become entrenched in an area or community, the greater the faith that secular intellectuals came to repose in its efficacy.7
What this revolution, therefore, entailed was a transposition of the ancient problem of meaning away from the spiritual sphere onto a material and social plane. Injustice and suffering were not divinely ordained instruments of man's spiritual betterment, or inevitable components of earthly imperfection; they were mainly man-made problems with human solutions which men of good faith and intelligence could arrive at and implement for their less fortunate fellow-men. Such a conclusion sapped the vigour of traditional faiths, as it undermined the intellectual edifice of revealed dogma. Above all, it eroded the social and political relevance of religion, and the basis of ecclesiastical authority. Religion became more and more the expression of private convictions, an inspiration or consolation for the inward crises and joys of an individual's life, rather than a matter of public concern or communal action.
Three Routes to Ethnic Historicism
Of course, the actual processes by which faith was sapped and religious authority displaced, in the areas where this occurred, varied greatly in different communities. There was nothing inevitable, either, about the process itself, or about its trajectory. A good many 'modernised' or 'developed' nation-states have powerful ecclesiastical hierarchies, even in communist countries, and a vigorous religious life, private and public.8 Some intellectuals, and educator-statesmen, have found private ways of reconciling some of the premises of religion with a commitment to social progress through science and rationalist education.9 Nevertheless, the basic choice between a social structure dominated by religious authority or by 'rational-legal' authority of the scientific state has remained fundamental, at both the intellectual and the social levels. With the advance of secular education and science, more and more people have come to feel the need for some sort of choice or harmonisation between these two polar principles; and this perception of a fundamental choice has had vital social repercussions in the histories of a great number of communities.
Certainly, the discussions of so-called modernist intellectuals were dominated at the outset by such perceptions. Historically and logically, three main positions on the question emerged out of the welter of speculation; and intellectuals have tended to divide along their lines ever since, with a good deal of interchange and even blurring in individual cases between the three options.
I [...] will [...] confine my remarks to showing how each of them has tended to encourage the growth of an historicist outlook, and to discover in the resuscitation of the ethnic community as an historical subject some sort of resolution of their intellectual and emotional dilemmas.10
The first route, that of neo-traditionalism, tries to accept the technical achievements and some of the methods of western science and rationalism without any of its underlying assumptions. Socially and politically, it utilises modern methods of mobilising people but for traditionalist ends. A traditionalist is, of course, a self-conscious ideologue; he knows perfectly well that he is manipulating scientific techniques in order to defend traditional values and dogma. He also approaches tradition 'from the outside'; he has seen it through the eye of the unbeliever, if only to reject his error, and of the foreigner, if only to be confirmed the more securely in the sense of what is his own. The neo-traditionalist is, moreover, politically self-conscious: he deliberately chooses secular political means for achieving traditional, religious goals. Thus al-Afghani organised a pan-Islamic crusade, agitating through the press and politically, and mobilising thinking Muslims from Egypt to Pakistan to revive and purify Islam and the Islamic umma in the face of western materialism and imperialism." And in India, slightly later, Tilak and Aurobindo were appealing to the masses in an attempt to revive the fortunes of Hinduism at a time when Christianity and westernisation appeared to be eroding traditional faith, and they did so by politicising the tradition and organising the faithful into a modern-style crusade against alien unbelievers.12
It is not difficult to see how this kind of modernised religion and politicised tradition lends itself to ethnic historicism and outright nationalism. To use political means to revive one's religious heritage and faith, and to organise the faithful into a political movement, demands a clear conception of the origins, laws of growth and identity of the unit whose solidarity is being sought, in this case, the community of the faithful. It requires, moreover, a sense of the passage of ethnic time and the vicissitudes of the faithful during the course of the centuries. The faithful must be given a history; they must be endowed with a foundation charter; their identity and destiny must be fixed; and their decline from past grandeur and present misfortunes must be explained. The religious congregation must increasingly be turned into an ethnic community, as has happened to the Jews and the Iranian Shiites. [ ... ]
Neo-traditionalist intellectuals reject, on principle, the rationalist assumptions and critical language which they simultaneously require, if they are to communicate that rejection to their fellow-intellectuals and others. The other two positions, those of the reformists and the assimilationists, accept science and rationalism together with their associated modes of critical reflection, systematic observation and open argument. But, while the assimilationist accepts such rationalism wholeheartedly, his reformist counterpart does so with many reservations. Assimilationists embrace with an almost messianic fervour the rationalist and scientific principles embodied in the modern state, principles in which they not only believe but which also validate their own aspirations for power and prestige. From their ranks have been drawn most of the 'educators', self-styled secular intellectuals bent on regenerating their communities through rationalist education. To these people there was really only one modern, worthwhile civilisation, that of the modern West with its rational discourse and scientific expertise; and they saw their task as that of assimilating themselves and their communities to the norms and lifestyles of that one global civilization. Assimilationists are, therefore, essentially cosmopolitan in aspiration, even if, in practice, they must always assimilate to a particular cultural variant (English, French, German, American, Russian) of 'modern' scientific civilisation. The point is that, to the assimilationist would-be educator, the 'scientific state' is a universal construct whose effect is the potential solution of the problem of meaning on a global scale. By means of this engine of modernisation, all mankind can pool its resources for the common good, thus rendering the old transcendental and cosmic problems essentially social and practical. Through self-help and collective planning, men can hope to solve problems that are really terrestrial and practical, but which till now had been represented by the traditional theodicies as supramundane, divinely ordained elements of the cosmos. The first task of assimilationists was, therefore, critical and destructive: the breaking down of transcendental mysteries into earthly, practical problems, so that men might be taught the scientific temper and techniques required for self-help programmes of collective regeneration.
But, how then could an assimilationists stance contribute to the rise of ethnic historicism? Is not their critical cosmopolitanism, their future-oriented messianism, incompatible with the cultural foundations of the ethnic revival? It is indeed incompatible. And it required a major reorientation of assimilationist aspirations, before they could lend themselves to an historicist resolution.
That change came for many with the disillusion of their cosmopolitan dreams and messianic ideals. Of course, a few assimilationists managed to slip into the advanced western societies, which they felt embodied their aspirations to be world-citizens. But many more were refused entry. Curiously, the process of rejection began in the western heartlands—in that initial contest between the philosopher and the ancien regimen, which was soon replicated in much of Central and Eastern Europe.13 Exclusion was even more overt for the messianic intellectuals of the 'Third World'. If they did not come to sense their rejection in the metropolitan lands which they visited, they were left in no doubt of it on their return home. And yet it was not the insults of junior colonial officials that restored the assimilationist intellectual to his community and its history; it was far more the subtle but pervasive sense of distance which European exposure instilled in him, the gulf between his own traditions and the rational-critical discourse of the West.14
And so the assimilationist-in-retreat from the scientific state in the West poured all his messianic fervour and ardent hopes back onto the community which he had sought to abandon. Painful though this transformation might be, it was made easier by the fact that the ideology of rational progress, which the assimilationist intellectuals had embraced, furnished them with an evolutionary outlook, which in turn could be harmonised with the history of particular ethnic communities. An ideology of progress entails, after all, a commitment to a linear conception of social development, in which some societies, the 'advanced' ones, are blazing the one and only trail for their 'backward' brethren. A global pioneering ideology implies a theory of stages of advancement and rules of improvement. Given also their revolutionary impulses, assimilationist would be predisposed to an interventionist view of the historical process, one in which the educator could speed up the movement of history. It was therefore not so difficult fora disappointed assimilationist to transfer his progressive and revolutionary ideology from the stage of world history to that of his community within that larger framework. In that way, his disillusion and rejection could be rationalised, even justified, by arguing that progress is slower, more piecemeal and fragmented, and requires a more active intervention in each area; in a word, by being more 'realistic'. Besides, the revolution of reason had not really occurred in the advanced states, even if early enthusiasms had misled many into believing it had; might not their own communities succeed where the advanced western nations had failed? And might not the secular educators fashion a more rational, progressive and scientific state in their own backward areas, than any yet seen in the West?
Such reasonings, at any rate, helped to soften the disillusion of the assimilationists and turns them back to their ethnic homelands. A residual messianic cosmopolitanism still lingered in their hearts; but now it came to inspire their efforts to regenerate their respective ethnic communities and restore their past splendours. The arena of emancipation and revolution was no longer the world at large: it had narrowed itself down to the 'scientific state' of particular ethnic communities, and to the history and destiny of those communities. [... ]
It is here that the third position, that of reformists, commends itself. For the reformist, despite his commitment to critical rationalism and science, does not completely reject all religious authority or cosmic theodicies. [... ] [T]he reformist acknowledges the situation of 'dual legitimation', the twin sources of authority in the modern world, that of the divine order and that of the scientific state.15 To a reformist, God makes history; but so does the man-made 'scientific state'. Revelation and intuition show us the divine plan, even while reason and science allow man to become God's co-worker. Power and value are divided today; man, through the scientific state, commands much value and considerable power, but God, in nature and morality, is the repository of power and value beyond man and his comprehension. In his own terrestrial sphere, man can raise himself; he must not wait till death for emancipation. But, in the sphere beyond, on the cosmic plane, God still rules; and furthermore, He works in man's sphere through man's own efforts. Cautiously optimistic, the reformist believes that God works for man through the scientific state; and man must therefore embrace the collective good which the state furthers, so that he can work with God. And only within a reformed religion can man work with God.
The reformist attempt to reconcile opposites, to harmonise an ancient and profoundly ethical religious tradition with modern, secular rationalism, lies at the root of much liberal and even social-democratic thought. Yet it, too, lends itself to an ethnic historicism. But the process of transformation is more complex. Like the assimilationist, the reformist is asked to determine his own destiny, to raise the collectivity through his own efforts. Self-help, rational choice, collective planning, are therefore as much a part of the mental armoury of reformists as of others. But that is only a predisposing factor. It does not explain the rum into historicism or the return to ethnicity.
Once again, it is a failure that provides the impetus to historicism. Reformists, working to reform their religion so as to adapt it to modern rationalism, necessarily run foul of the ecclesiastical authorities and their neo-traditionalist champions. Only a truly reformed religion, which returns to its original inspiration and sweeps away all meaningless accretions and superstition, along with archaic priestly hierarchies, can reconcile the basic ethical revelation with the demands of reason; and this brings reformers into direct conflict with the ecclesiastical authorities.
In the ensuing conflict, which has often been prolonged and violent, reformists have had only limited success (and that often for quite extraneous political or economic reasons). The inherent difficulties in their position have also been mercilessly exposed. After all, if every feature of traditional religion which fails the 'test of reason', which cannot be reconciled with rationalism, is abolished, what is left of the religion? Why not cross over into an assimilationist secularism? Does not a religious community require continuity and stability in the face of the ever-changing 'spirit of the age' and fluctuating social needs?
One way out of these problems and conflicts is to look to the community itself, its history and culture, for the essential elements of the religion and the criterion of religious reform.16 In the still-meaningful traditions and beliefs of the community, the reformist discerns the 'essence' of a modern faith. Dead and meaningless rituals and superstitions can now be swept away, on the ground that they no longer play a part in the life of the ethnic community. Furthermore, the reformist looks back to those ages and periods of the community in which religion was pure and the community itself was great. He searches in the past for communal dignity inspired by true faith; and seeks to recreate both through a modernised religious education. In this way, the reformist is led back towards a reconsideration of his ethnic past, in order to salvage the true, the underlying, the pure religion of his people. He becomes more conservative, more defensive, more concerned to preserve a sacred island of ethnic values in a profane world. He historicises the religious tradi-tion, and in the end comes to see the religion as an outgrowth, a creation, of the genius of his community. To save the genuine religion, what is required is not merely a religious reformation, but a spiritual purification which will stem the community's present decline and restore it to its former grandeur. Through spiritual self-help, the dejected ethnic community can be raised up anew. Through a cultural ethnic nationalism, the situation of 'dual legitimation' can be overcome, and the ethnic community can regain its former faith and dignity in a rationalist world.17
Each of these three positions—neo-traditionalism, reformism and assimilation—continue to be espoused to this day by intellectuals in many lands; and each in its way continues to lead its devotees, under the pressure of external circumstances, towards an ethnic historicism. For they aconcede the twin premisses of such historicisms, that entities have origins and purposes in time, and possess identities and boundaries in space, in a world composed of analogous entities. The spiritual situation of intellectuals is, therefore, at once open and circumscribed; they operate within a set of assumptions, yet within that circle can choose between alternative interpretations.18
What, then, were the circumstances that precipitated adherents of all three positions toward an historicist resolution? In Europe, a sense of linear time and the quest for origins stemmed, first, from a comparison with the ancients and a growing belief in the possibility of social progress; whereas, outside Europe, this same quest originated from comparisons with former days of communal splendour now brought low by European conquest and cultural influence. Second, within Europe, a new sense of diversity and cultural pluralism arose mainly from interstate rivalries and territorial warfare, followed closely by the discovery of other continents and civilisations and 'exotic' peoples, and the ensuing scramble for colonies; whereas outside Europe, that selfsame sense of diversity emerged more directly from the 'parallel society' created by colonialism, and from the clash of western and indigenous cultures among exposed intellectuals.19
Perhaps even more fundamental for the rise of ethnic historicism across the globe has been the growing influence of the educators themselves. The secular intellectuals, as the vanguard of science and critical rationalism, have relentlessly challenged the claims of absolutism, semi-feudal ties and often ecclesiastical authority. Increasingly a transcultural, cosmopolitan community of humanists and scientists, united by books, travel and a common language of discourse, and freed from personal service to aristocratic and chiefly patrons, these secular educators have found a ready market for their ideas among a public hungry for knowledge and innovation. Even neo-traditionalists, who openly repudiate modernity, must operate within this language of critical discourse and address this new educated public.
(The Ethnic Revival (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, 1981), 90, 93-8, 99-104.]