Nationalism vs. Patriotism

I have forgotten the exact wording, but about a week ago, a post on social media challenged readers to state a belief that may be unpopular but true. A friend of mine took the bait and answered with the insightful thought, “Nationalism is not patriotism.” I immediately agreed, of course, but the statement nagged me over the weekend because there are two distinctly different connotations of the word “nationalism,” and I wasn’t 100% certain of his intent. One definition is quite positive and describes a point in history when people began forming governments that matched cultural and geographic boundaries, and the other is, well, not so nice.

Let’s start with the alleged null hypothesis. Patriotism is the intense, if not thoughtful, love for a country and its symbols. Patriotism is embodied in our pledge of allegiance and national anthem, conjuring images of purple mountains’ majesty and rockets’ red glare. Patriotism is, in part, the emotion that drives people to vote, serve in the military, and spend a few extra bucks for American-made products.

Nationalism intersects with quite a bit of that but emerged from the Latin “natio,” which describes “children of the same birth” and extends to groups of people of common origin. Decades ago, my first night’s reading in Poli-Sci 101 contrasted nations, which are groups of individuals who may or may not have geographic boundaries, with nation-states. We all have a good handle on nation-states that we often call “countries,” but nations can also be groups without borders. Think about Native American tribes like the Cherokee Nation or even the Husker Nation.

Before the late 18th century, European and Asian cultures tended to be localized within a region, town, or village, yet it was not uncommon to be ruled by a monarch who spoke a different language and lived thousands of miles away. The old Ottoman Empire is a classic example. It encompassed what is now Greece, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and several other diverse cultures. Although all belonged to individual stateless nations, they answered to one common monarchy.

Then, in the late 18th century, a bunch of malcontented colonials in America who were wound up about taxes concluded that perhaps they should govern themselves, and that was just one of their radical ideas. Although they were ultimately victorious, the American Revolution was not an ideal blueprint for true nationalism. We were a federation of independent states, all of whom had distinct identities and allegiances that banded together for pragmatic reasons.

It was actually the French who created a more ideal model for nationalism because, as a single, smaller nation, they had a distinct culture, their own language, and were culturally cohesive within their own geographic boundaries. When they overthrew their monarchy, they had all the elements in place for home rule.

After that, the idea caught on, and one by one, ethnic and cultural nations rose against distant monarchies and took control of their destinies. What’s not to love? The overthrow of the Ottoman Empire that started World War I needed to happen. It was a cruel, brutal war that demonstrated the evils of entangling alliances, but it allowed, at least for some, an opportunity for nations to become nation-states.

Well, it didn’t take long for bad actors to come into play. As frail and fallible humans, it seems that when we take control of a region as a specific culture, it doesn’t take long before we decide who belongs and who doesn’t. That’s where nationalism takes on a distinctly less admirable character that I think my friend may have been referencing. That’s when the energies of nationalism and the positive forces of patriotism combine to create a monster.

That “we’re number one” spirit that seems so innocuous at high school football games turns ugly and gives governments license to do unspeakable things. Germany will always win first prize for their inhumanity under the National Socialist Party, but they were by no means alone. Russian pogroms were every bit as brutal, if not carried out on an industrial scale, and Japan’s belief in ethnic superiority drove their rationale for conquering and brutalizing much of Asia.

As we flash forward to 21st-century America, we see glimpses of a sinister form of nationalism rearing its head. As illegal immigrants flood across our border, those old concerns about who belongs and who doesn’t are on the rebound. It doesn’t help that they are coming over in droves illegally, and it’s hard to know who or what they are bringing with them. Those are genuine concerns that should not be ignored, but there is a palpable culture shock that accompanies that migration, and it’s bringing out our lesser angels.

I’m not talking about the fringe whackos drilling in northwestern forests. No one takes them seriously, and there aren’t enough of them to overwhelm our collective common sense. I’m more concerned about the sizable number of people who are genuinely worried that our new immigrants won’t assimilate; that the melting pot won’t melt. There are bright, honest people who feel that we are being overrun and that our culture is slipping away.

In those cases, I would contend that this new brand of nationalism is indeed very different from patriotism. It is, in fact, the absence of patriotism. It betrays a lack of confidence that the fundamental values that define our culture: free markets, freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and democratic governance aren’t going to beat the pants off anything else that people try to bring here. Those of us who call ourselves patriots are confident that the people who struggle to get here don’t want to dominate us. They want to be a part of us.

I’ll be the first to confess that some days, I have my doubts. I love seeing new people with new traditions, but I would feel a heck of a lot better if they came here legally. One of the mainstays of the American experience is our desire to apply the rule of law equally. We have not perfected that effort, but folks who start on the wrong foot are a source of genuine concern.

Speaking of America, there’s that other America to the north of us, and they have what may be a slightly improved version of our melting pot. They refer to their diverse English, French, and native populations as a “mosaic.”

Each part of the picture is unique. It is distinctly different from the others, yet they combine to form a cohesive national identity.

You won’t hear me sing the praises of Canadians very often, but I think they’re on to something. We haven’t stolen anything from them since our last try in 1812, but I like the mosaic concept. As an alternative to an exclusive, hostile, nationalistic approach, we might want to give that a look. At least the food will be interesting.