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This is a dry, academic analysis of the “nation,” not “nationalism.” The only discussion of “nationalism” is in the first chapter, which writes off nationalism as something not worth discussion. The author, Steven Grosby, states:
“Many wrongly use the term ‘nationalism' as a synonym for ‘nation'. Nationalism refers to a set of beliefs about the nation. Any particular nation will contain differing views about its character; thus, for any nation there will be different and competing beliefs about it that often manifest themselves as political differences. Some may view their nation as standing for individual liberty, while others may be willing to sacrifice that liberty for security.”
Well, maybe, but nationalism was considered part of the twin horses that drew liberalism in the 19th century. Perhaps, “nationalism,” as such, is wrong and misguided, but it seems like a book entitled “nationalism” would say something about that subject.
Grosby's interest is in defining the term “nation” and seeing how that definition plays out among different cultures. The gist of Grosby's definition is that a “nation” is a bounded area defined by common perceived kinship and tied to territory. A nation feels like “home.” One knows that one is in one's own nation when one feels comfortable and at home. He writes:
“This phenomenon of attributing qualities of parentage to an inanimate object (land) can be seen in another example drawn from everyday speech that has a bearing on our understanding of the nation: the distinction between the words ‘house' and ‘home'. By the word ‘house', we generally mean a physical, spatial structure that is not a home, but that has the capacity to become one. By the term ‘home', we usually mean that the physical structure of the house has in some way become pervaded by the spirit or power or even moral qualities of its inhabitants. It is as if the house, when it becomes a home, has become a part of the family. The modern nation is recognized by its members as being more than merely a spatial setting – a house – for the random interaction between individuals. It is viewed as a home, where the ‘spirit' of past and current generations has filled up that spatial setting, making it a homeland, a territory. This spirit of past and current generations are those traditions that contribute to organizing an area of space into a territory and that, as such, provide meaning around which the territorial relation is organized. Such territorially specific traditions both structure and provide meaning to the conduct of the participants in that culture. Consider, for instance, that the Sinhalese view their territory as a holy land, Sri Lanka. To take another example, note how President Lyndon B. Johnson described the land of the United States of America as being a partner in covenant, as if it were a person with moral expectations.”
He also writes:
“Humans seek the familiar because what is familiar is also habitual; and, as such, the structured familiarity of the home provides comfort as it limits the anxiety-provoking multitude of possibilities of action that present themselves for consideration to human beings. In this regard, a parallel can be drawn between the behavioural component in the formation of an animal's spatial habitat and the structured familiarity of the home. However, there is an important difference between the human home and the animal habitat. The human home is not instinctually determined like a beehive for bees, or restricted to a particular environment like the Arctic for polar bears; humans live in many different environments in which they create their homes. Thus, even if there are behavioural components to the human tendency to form spatially bounded structures of familiarity, the very variability of those structures and their locations indicates the intervention of the human imagination in their formation. The role of the imagination in the spatial attachments formed by human beings is clear when those attachments extend to areas that have never been physically experienced by the individual but which are nonetheless considered to be part of his or her home. This is certainly the case with the territorially extensive homeland of the nation. It, too, is viewed as a home; it, too, is a structure of anxiety-reducing familiarity. As you return to your national homeland from a foreign country, you may experience a feeling of relief. You immerse yourself again in the familiarity of your own language and customs. That is one reason why those familiar patterns of activity – inherited traditions – that structure our conduct and which we call ‘culture' are so important to the individual.”
I was surprised in reading this. Not because it's wrong, but because it seems to have slipped through a politically correct filter.
The objection to mass immigration to the West is precisely the fact that mass immigration is causing the natives to feel anxiety, to question whether their home is their home. One gets the feeling that modern politicians view the nation as a kind of motel where one set of tenants can be replaced by another set. (See e.g., The Strange Death of Europe by Douglas Muray.) Those who object are disparaged as “nationalists.”
Yet, the burden of this book is to argue that these people are not deranged; they accurately intuit that identity and “home” rather than “housing” is the core of the social compact they have with their nation.
I think that merits the fourth star.