Book Review: Yael Tamir’s Why Nationalism — Defending the Indefensible?
The old adage warns us not to judge a book by its cover, but the cover of Yael Tamir’s Why Nationalism is a perfect visual summary of her central point: its stark Venn diagram evokes the dual nations-within-a-nation of our present polarized moment. Drifting away from one another, her two circles are the two Americas, the so-called “Clinton nation” and “Trump nation.” Signifying a truly global problem, the image equally represents the sets of discrete national spheres found within Germany, Turkey, Spain, and so many others. The two groups rarely meet, and the chasm created by social class means that they fundamentally lack a shared fate. This is enormously problematic for the ideological underpinnings of the nation-state, writes Tamir, such that our present moment is defined by political, economic, and cultural upheaval.
The cover’s two divergent circles also evoke Tamir’s cited cause for all of this upheaval and division. She sets up a clear dichotomy: globalism versus nationalism. As the book’s title suggests, it centers around an argument for the latter; it’s equally an argument against the former, which has been the prevailing neoliberal force of the last few decades.
Making the case for a return to nationalism is a controversial move for anyone, let alone someone who positions themselves to the left of the political spectrum. Tamir aims to salvage the best aspects of nationalism, which she considers an unparalleled force for modernization, nation-building, and fostering social solidarity across classes. After all, she argues, we have no better political system available to us than the nation-state, which is itself a compromise between liberal and nationalist ideas.
She cites a wide variety of cases to illustrate that the two halves of this dichotomy are not entirely separate: just as liberalism holds elements of nationalism, so too does nationalism hold elements of liberalism. Just as “liberal democratic theory draws on national criteria to counter the pressures of globalism,” so too does “nationalism [rely] on liberal-democratic principles to strengthen its claims for self-determination” (p. 6). The two ideological orientations are interdependent.
While Why Nationalism is a well-written, persuasive reconsideration of nationalism, it fails in several key areas. Tamir falters in her attempts to defend the book’s historical decontextualization of nationalist ideas and to analyze the role of white supremacy in the debate. She also neglects the key concern that is climate change. And perhaps most problematically, Why Nationalism disappoints when it comes to ambitiously imagining a better future.
Tamir defines her work as aiming to take nationalist ideas at face value “without falling into the ad hominem trap of rebutting ideas by attacking the people making the argument or those associated with them” (p. 11). In this case, however, that “ad hominem trap” has traditionally been warranted. You cannot remove theoretical claims from the historical context of the political movements that have used them. Historical context is a crucial element of what defines such claims. With whom ideas are associated plays a major role in how those ideas are put into practice. In the case of nationalism, that practice has involved racist, dehumanizing, and fundamentally violent actions. Tamir’s approach here is effectively a call for ahistoricism under the guise of an argumentative high ground.
Similarly, Tamir’s acknowledgment that her support of nationalism is controversial, and her insistence on drawing only from its best elements, do not counteract her failure to effectively analyze the significant role that white supremacy has played in the ideology. She expresses considerable sympathy for lower-class white men who respond to their economic marginalization by scapegoating immigrants and pushing for racial exclusion. She even writes that in our “new world, being what they are—white, male, members of a majority—was to be apologizing for the privileges you do not have” (p. 129). Tamir’s use of that phrase—“the privileges you do not have”—evinces a lack of nuance with regard to the complex intersections of class, race, and gender. She asserts that racial and ethnic diversity undermine the development and maintenance of a cohesive national community: “inclusion, not exclusion, has its costs” (p. 157).
Indeed, she makes numerous allusions to race throughout the book, as in her frequent use of the term “majority,” but seems hesitant to fully address the harmful implications of what she’s suggesting. Tamir believes that nationalism can help bring about class solidarity, while arguing that ethnic tension and social disintegration are inevitable in a culturally pluralistic society. The question of why class differences can be overcome, but ethnic differences are too salient and fundamental not to be divisive, remains unanswered. After all, those “things we have in common” that Tamir cites as crucial to the strength of the “social fabric”—“norms, traditions, ways of life and habits of the heart, a common past, and a desire for a better future” (p. 173)—differ between classes at least as much as between various national or cultural groups. In many ways, they are perhaps more divergent across classes, because the wealthy live in an entirely different world of power and consequences.
Furthermore, as a member of the Millennial generation whose bleak fate Tamir laments as evidence of the need for nationalism, I noted that she overlooks a crucial element of our generational fears: climate change. While economic factors certainly contribute to our sense of generalized ennui, the specter of climate change carries an even greater existential weight. Any forward-looking foray into generating ideological and political prescriptions must account for this threat. Put into practice, Tamir’s ideas would have alarming implications for our climate catastrophe. When Tamir dismisses global unity, she dismisses the need for a coordinated global response to the climate crisis. For instance, many nation-states acting in their own interest will refuse to undergo the transformation required to lower their emissions. Low-lying nations will be underwater before the national economies that contribute most severely to climate change begin to consider substantive emissions reductions. In such a situation, a pluralistic, nation-by-nation response cannot suffice. Tamir’s failure to account for climate change embodies the liberal denialism that frames it as an important but nonetheless niche issue. Climate change is an urgent existential threat that is destroying livelihoods, killing people, decimating entire nations, and devastating hopes for the future. It is denialism not to acknowledge that this reality has immediate bearing on the question of whether to aspire to something newer and better than the nation-state system.
Why Nationalism is replete with persuasive realist arguments. But one woman’s realism is another woman’s fatalism, and I view her dismissal of hopeful alternatives as leaning more toward fatalism. Tamir acknowledges that some consider the modern nation-state to be obsolete. But regarding “a better alternative,” she writes only that “none has so far emerged” (p. 7). That aside does not constitute a moral or practical argument for the nation-state system over other political systems. No such system simply emerges; it is created by people. Similarly, Tamir writes that “the workers of the world will never unite. They have no real interest in doing so” (p. 101). This a strong claim to make with no supporting evidence; she also makes no mention of the role of elites in undermining class solidarity by fomenting division via racism and xenophobia. Weakly dismissing alternative possibilities serves only to normalize the passivity that has fueled our fixation on the existing system and our inability to conceive of alternatives.
