In the modern political tradition, patriotism has always been revered. Not only is pride in and devotion to country seen as a positive, but its absence is also often taken as a sign of moral deficiency. Nationalism, on the other hand, is more suspect. The nationalist identifies with the nation and nationalism can manifest as a political ideology, as it did in the 20th century’s fascist regimes. As liberalism reigned in the aftermath of the war, nationalism was viewed, perhaps understandably, with scepticism. But there are now signs, especially in America, that it is making a comeback. To understand what is happening, it is constructive to take a look at what underlies it by asking: what is a nation? The answer is not necessarily as simple as one might think.
One line of thought, known as primordialism, suggest that the nation is a natural organism in itself and as such is not based in historical developments. Modern nations, then, arose when naturally occurring groups developed common language, culture, traditions and laid claim a given territory. The more rigid version of primordialism, primarily associated with Pierre van den Berghe, sees these groups as sociobiological connected—that is, through bloodline, whereas others saw them as built not just on blood but also on cultural ties, custom, religion and race. A variation on primordialism, perennialism, does not see the nation as a natural phenomenon but rather as long-term historical creations.
In contrast, the modernist theory of nationalism, which has emerged to be the dominant theory in today’s liberal societies, generally sees the enlightenment and particularly the French Revolution as the moment when the nation state developed into something connecting people rather than simply being the basis of organising societies under monarchical rule. It was reinforced in the American nations that formed in the late 18th and early 19th centuries before returning to create modern Europe. Benedict Anderson explained the nation as an “imagined community” facilitated by the printed media and vernacular languages—imagined because members of the nation do not know each other yet live with an image of communal bonds. In this view, nationalism is an “invented tradition” (and a rather recent one) and it ties the formation of nations to the political and bureaucratic structures of the modern state.
The ethnosymbolists countered the modernists, who they thought were mistakenly centring the elites in preference to the “masses”. So, while they agreed that the nation is a modern phenomenon, they saw it as having roots in pre-modern ethnic communities. While not fully in the ethnosymbolist tradition, Stephen Wolfe, in The Case for Christian Nationalism, argues for a definition of the nation that is rooted in cultural and ethnic homogeneity, and in particular in religious identity. It is this type of theory that most closely aligns with the fascist view of the nation (though differences remain). And it is what is now gaining popularity on the right and is set to collide, explosively, with the prevailing liberal ethos of multiculturalism.
The ethnosymbolists also stressed how the nation is an ever-evolving process of “ethnic self-renewal”, where symbols, myths and tradition create and maintain a collective identity. There is a suggestion here that looking forward is as important as looking back, which was also emphasised by Ernest Renan in his famous 1892 essay What is a Nation? Renan suggested that it is a “spiritual principle” based in “the possession in common of a rich legacy of memories” and “present-day consent, the desire to live together, the will to perpetuate the value of the heritage that one has received in an undivided form.” As such, it is based in voluntary association, and while a shared past is important, Renan emphasised a common vision of the future, describing the nation as “a daily plebiscite”, that is, needing constant affirmation.
Of course, the key question that occupies the contemporary debate is how immigration relates to the preservation of nation and national identity. The idea of the nation as based in primordial ties clearly means that immigration is difficult—in one view it would require integration into the existing kin group, for example by marriage, but at the very least it suggests that immigrants would need to assimilate and be accepted by the nation’s dominant cultural groups. This is echoed by the ethnosymbolist view, which would place the emphasis on assimilation and contribution to cultural (and religious) homogeneity. What is very obvious is that none of these definitions of the nation leave room for its preservation under conditions of unrestricted immigration and advancing multiculturalism. At a very minimum, immigrants would need to assimilate and integrate, so it is perhaps not surprising that nationalism has become something that is frowned upon by the dominant cultural and political elites, who have proclaimed allegiance to multiculturalism. The two are simply not compatible.
It is the modernists that offer the most accommodating view, allowing for integration of immigrants by a combination of assimilation and a reimagining of the bonds that create the nation. Modernism does predict complications if there is resistance from the existing community—but an invented tradition can obviously be reinvented. It is this view that underlies the idea that mass immigration and cultural diversity can be positive contributors to national identity.
And then there is the view that the nation is simply lines on a map and that whatever it used to be, it has no relevance in a modern, liberal/progressive world. This is the globalist view, and alongside modernism, it is what is engendering a forceful counterreaction from the dissident right, who have found a strong voice in the aftermath of the election of Donald Trump. “One of the things you hear people say sometimes is that America is an idea. America is not just an idea. It is a group of people with a shared history and a common future,” incoming VP, JD Vance, said recently. Nationalism is back.