clearly in no need for Anderson’s rescue operation. Declaring them bankrupt was merely
Anderson’s flawed attempt to free himself from the burden of engaging with them. Nor was it
clear that nationalism was only ‘cultural’. Anderson did not explain why it was not also political
and economic. Certainly, neither a Nehru nor a Nkrumah nor yet a Sukarno or a Ho, neither a
Jefferson nor a Bolivar nor yet a Mazzini, imagined otherwise when they led nationalist
struggles. Projects of national development lay at the core of nationalist movements and even
after they became the settled nationalisms of established states, nationalisms always embodied a
distinctive political economy – typically its own version of national development – and not only
a cultural politics (Desai 2009c). Each reflected
the particular concerns of the classes that led
them but these had to be compromised by the
concessions each was forced to make to equity
and other such popular concerns to the extent
that their success was reliant on popular
mobilization. This was as much the case in
Europe and the Americas as it was in de-
colonized Asia and Africa in the 20
th
century.
The cultural content of these nationalisms were
intimately tied to the requirements of their
economic and political tasks (see the various
contributions in Desai 2009a). Few could
afford to celebrate inherited culture in simple
ways, given the tasks of modernization. In the
nationalism which lay at the core of the
Communist revolution in China, for example,
where traditional society and polity had failed
so spectacularly against imperial pressures,
‘Anti-traditionalism’ dominated and most
intellectuals ‘believed that the Chinese national
character had so many serious shortcomings
that cultural and spiritual restructuring
programs were urgently needed to cure and
even, for some . . . to remake the nation’. Even conservatives who ‘advocated . . . restoring
China’s traditional Confucian cultural values . . . admitted the necessity of a fundamental
remaking of Chinese culture’. (Wu 2008: 477). In post-war Japan, political economy and cultural
politics were even harder to distinguish: the largely cultural ideas of Japanese uniqueness which
had powered pre-surrender nationalism were so comprehensively discredited by defeat as to that
for the next several decades ideas about Japan’s national distinctiveness attached themselves to
the national economy rather than to any specifically cultural themes (Hein 2008). To what extent
could a theory which focused on the cultural aspects of nationalisms alone ‘properly’ understand
them?
There remains the matter of the emotional legitimacy which nations enjoy, to which
Anderson devotes a whole chapter (pp. 141–54). Emotional legitimacy forms the ineffable core
of nationalism and it looms so large for Anderson that, incredible as it may seem, faced with it he
brushes aside his own previously built up explanations of the phenomenon. Although he ‘tried to
delineate the processes by which the nation came to be imagined, and, once imagined, modelled,
adapted and transformed’, such accounts of changes in society or consciousness do not
in themselves do much to explain the attachment that peoples feel for the inventions of
their imaginations – or to revive a question raised at the beginning of the text – why
people are ready to die for these inventions. (p. 141)
But Anderson cannot seem to make up his mind. Though ruling out explanation, and devoting
the chapter exclusively to lyricizing this ‘emotional commitment’, Anderson goes on to invoke
the ‘fatality’ of national belonging, its ‘purity’ and ‘disinterestedness’ as explanations for
people’s emotional attachment to their nations. This is what elicits the sort of commitment which
is capable of the ultimate sacrifice.
A number of things may be said here. First of all, at a logical level, if all the long pages
of explanation which precede this chapter ultimately fail to explain this deep core of nationalism
in the way ‘fatality’ does, why bother to write them? What is their relationship to the lyric
exposition in Chapter 8? Secondly, Anderson surely draws too easy and stark a contrast between
national belonging, a ‘fatality’, and other forms of association which one may join and leave ‘at
easy will’ (p. 142). All forms of enduring commitment – to democracy, science, socialism,
religious belief, or human rights, e.g. – create
attachments which are hardly possible to join or
leave ‘at easy will’. As for willingness to die,
people have fought and died for a variety of
things other than nations – from crassly
material things like land and resources to
elevated ideals such as truth, democracy, rights
and socialism. The nation is hardly the only
form of community to elicit the ultimate
sacrifice. Thirdly, as the history of deserters,
conscientious objectors and the realities of
soldiers’ responses in battlefields have
recounted, the willingness to die for nations is
not as ubiquitous as Anderson imagines.
Finally, while Anderson is willing to suspect
‘official nationalism’ of a lot, he does not
entertain the possibility that the imputation of
such profound devotion to the nation as to elicit
the willingness to die for it, including the
putting up of tombs of unknown soldiers, may
be the work of official nationalism too. There is
no doubt that national belonging has
considerable force – emotional and ideological.
However, Anderson’s lengthy discussion of the matter remains unconvincing: is national
belonging really stronger than other forms of belonging always, everywhere and in all
circumstances? Is it not more forceful in some countries than others? Here, as at so many other