The incompatibility between nationalism and imperialism.
This is an entry for Anderson’s chapter, “Official Nationalism and Imperialism.” This may be his most thoughtful chapter yet. It feels long because it is long; and it is long because he made a sincere effort to evidence (though always on the shoulders of secondary sources) the historical arguments for this chapter’s thesis, namely, that the popularity of nationalism in the early 19th century pressed the empires to appropriate it to avoid demise. Yet, since nationalism is incompatible with imperialism (his illustration of the thin skin over a large beast), it determined the destruction of old polyglot empires (in the case of Britain and Japan it was a radical transformation that rendered the monarch virtually useless). The emphasis here is on the Russian, Austrian-Hungarian, Ottoman, British and Japanese empires, and Hungarian and Siam's kingdoms.
On Familiar Grounds
The familiarity of Anderson’s argument might escape you among the many interesting stories about the falling and conquering national empires. But if you look carefully at familiar themes, concerns that the author continues to bring up, you may notice that the vernacular and the imagination cut across chapters.
In the previous chapter the new European nationalisms of the 19th Century came into being because the bourgeoisie started reading, and this led to them imagining being part of a larger group of equals (the print media and capitalism). In this chapter the European Empires tried holding the nationalist tide by choosing a vernacular and elevating it to the status of state language. The reason for this was not simply as a reaction to nationalism, but for what could be seen as practical purposes. It seems ironic that the emperors that tried hard to make their empires work were the ones that ultimately sent their empires crumbling.
Look for example at the choosing of the German vernacular as the state’s language (the most logical choice for effective governance); it had the unintended effect of awakening all sorts of nationalisms among the Hapsburgs’ possessions, which ended breaking the empire (this chapter did not make reference to the 20th Century, but it was this rivalry against the Germans in the former Hapsburgs’ possessions that set the stage for the bitter nationalist wars of the 20th Century—the latest being the Balkan Wars, in which the U.S. troops were involved in the 1990s).
Imagination continued being the main and yet most subtle of Anderson’s proposition. In the previous chapter he argued that people began imagining a common nation with the reading of the vernacular; that national myths and legendary histories (which pretended to show readers that their nation was actually ancient) arouse the interest of people linked together by a vernacular, and led to the first stage in the formation of a nation.
In this chapter Anderson, again, showed how the way people imagined as a group itself, though they had not met each other, through the vernacular divisions created by imperial policies. In other words, the empires’ attempts to create state-languages forced imperial subjects to identify themselves with either the chosen imperial language, or with the ones left out.
The Newest of the New
The most original, and in my opinion, most important contribution of this chapter is appreciation of nationalism as a form of reaction to threats. With a broad comparative view Anderson gave its reader a clear sense of how the ruling classes took on the hobby of nationalism in order to maintain power and survive.
Though the Hanoverian (British), Romanovs (Russians), Hapsburgs (Vienna-Hungary) and Meiji (Japanese) converted, with varying degrees of success, to nationalism because of the threat of popular nationalism or external pressures, the most appalling example is that of the Magyar’s aristocracies. They resisted Vienna’s reforms for fear of losing power, and in turn created what today we could easily considered as fake nationalism.
The most unique and interesting case of nationalism from above, however, came from Siam (Thai). Chulalongkorn defended his kingdom from the same Western threats that had swallowed the entire continent of Asia (except Siam and Japan) with pure negotiation. He pitted European imperial powers against each other, and imported a politically powerless class of mostly Chinese, to work on his imperial projects.
But this political bonanza did not last long. After his death, Chulalongkorn’s son, Wachirawut, felt he had to promote a repressive nationalism against the second generation Chinese. He did not turn against the Westerners, but against the laborer immigrants that had established themselves there. This was the time, again, to promote the previous models (US and French) of nations, and enforce education, and the establishment of a state language.
Significant
We are starting to see the negative side of nationalism, particularly if it falls in the hand of a ruling or one with expansive pretensions (i.e. Japanese).
The heroic spirit of nationalism paints better memories when it is the engine behind an oppressed, ignored, and marginalized group. It is then seen, and often even justified as the case of the little guy against the mighty, David versus Goliath. It is then the case for asserting justice.
But, when an already powerful group harnesses the energy and creativity of nationalism, the destructive possibilities are countless. That is what the 20th Century came to show.
Questions
What did Anderson mean with lexicographic revolution?
What is the link between this revolution and the imagined communities’ wish for territory?
What are the differences in forms of governance and risks between an absolutists (divinely appointed) monarchy, and a nationalist one?
What were the roles of Thomas Macaulay, and Sergei Uvarov?
What was the main risk that monarchs would have if they would try turning their empires into nations?
How Siam’s early nationalism differed from Japan’s?
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