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53 pages 1 hour read

Benedict Anderson

Imagined Communities: Reflections On The Origin And Spread Of Nationalism

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 1983

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Symbols & Motifs

The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

For Anderson, tombs of the Unknown Soldier are the quintessential symbol of modern nationalism, embodying the quasi-mystical significance attached to the idea of nationhood. The cultural meaning of such monuments lies in their association of personal anonymity, national destiny, mortality, and the human aspiration toward eternity. Anderson observes that the reverence they evoke requires that the tombs are empty, or the remains they contain unidentifiable: “Yet void as these tombs are of identifiable mortal remains or immortal souls, they are nonetheless saturated with ghostly national imaginings” (9). Without the specificity of personal identity, monuments to the Unknown Soldier are able to symbolize abstract ideals associated with the nation.

These ‘imaginings’ demonstrate nationalism’s concern with death and immortality. Anderson traces the cultural roots of nationalism to the retreat of the medieval Christian world-view, which was undermined by the rational secularism of the Enlightenment and the age of scientific and global discovery. With the ebbing of religious belief, human suffering and the desire for meaning required a new form of metaphysical comfort and found this need met in the idea of the nation-state. Nations conceive of themselves as “loom[ing] out of an immemorial past” and uniting their members in a vision of a continually unfolding national destiny (11). They transform the religious yearning for immortality into a secular form of imagined continuity mediated through one’s nationality. The contingency of death in battle is given meaning by dying for the higher ideal of one’s nation. As Anderson remarks, “It is the magic of nationalism to turn chance into destiny” (12). At the same time, the anonymity of the Unknown Soldier reflects the anonymity of the imagined national community, whose members feel associated to each other by their common nationality.

The Social Construction of Reality

An underlying motif of Anderson’s work is that reality is socially constructed. The nation is imagined as a community of citizens sharing certain beliefs, values and an historical identity, yet its members nevertheless are largely anonymous to each other. Social practices and means of communication, such as reading newspapers, singing the national anthem, participating in elections and parades, visiting national monuments, and observing national holidays, reinforce imaginative participation in the national community. Despite the presence within a country of class distinctions, economic inequality, and social hierarchies, its citizens imagine that they exist in a horizontal, egalitarian relationship with each other based on their shared nationality. The fact that the nation is imagined does not make it unreal or false; rather, all communities rely to some degree on the exercise of imagination to cohere as a felt social presence. What interests Anderson is the logic of how that imagination socially constructs a sense of community.

As reality and identity are socially constructed, they can be manipulated by socioeconomic, cultural, and political powers. In the context of state power, official nationalism can suppress or promote the expression of certain national or ethnic identities, or language communities. Anderson emphasizes the complex historical formation of national identities, particularly in postcolonial nation-states which had to negotiate the ambivalent legacy of their colonial exploitation and administration by European imperial powers. This legacy involved institutionalized racism, colonial ethnography, the expansion of education organized on a Western model, substantial innovations in transportation and industry, and the rationalized, and increasingly specialized, apparatus of bureaucracy and administration with which the colonial power asserted its political, cultural, economic, military, and ideological control over its possessions.

Imagined Communities also stresses the important roles of contingency and historical disruption in the social construction of identity. The possibility of imagining the nation, or the national community, arose from the convergence of several discrete factors: the decline of a religious worldview, which supposed the divine right of monarchy; the invention of the technology of printing; the economic aggression of capitalism; and the diversity of vernacular languages. ‘Creole’ nations in the Americas, and postcolonial nation-states in Africa and Asia, reflect the historical accidents, arbitrariness of borders, and differing socioeconomic and political policies of the colonial powers that ultimately shaped the national identities and boundaries of these states.

Moreover, historical awareness profoundly influenced the imagination of national consciousness. The American and French Revolutions were greeted as ruptures in history, ushering in new, unprecedented social orders. The nationalist movements that followed in South America and Europe looked on these predecessors as models, and thus conceived of themselves as participating in an established historical tradition. Nations selectively remember, forget, or reconstruct history, including their pre-national past, in order to define and preserve their national identity.

Time and Space

Anderson argues that fundamental changes in our apprehensions of time and space were crucial for the development of national consciousness. The medieval conception of time was cosmological and dominated by the eschatological doctrines of the Christian Church. Human history was rapidly approaching the biblical end-of-times; the entirety of time itself was but a simultaneous instant in the eyes of God. This view of time as the prophetic fulfillment of divine providence was essentially ahistorical, in that it lacked our modern grasp of history as an endless chain of natural causes and effects.

In contrast to the medieval notion of simultaneity, in which past, present, and future were linked in a system of spiritual correspondences, the modern idea of simultaneity is based on a concept of “homogenous, empty time.” We imagine history to consist of a series of events occurring in causal sequence and filling a uniform, vacant time. Events occur simultaneously around the world in the same calendrical time, occupying the same homogenous chronology. This sense of time enables us to imagine the lives and activities of other members of our community, though we may not know them, as occurring simultaneously with ours. Anderson argues that the narrative conventions of novels and newspapers, which reached mass audiences in the 18thcentury, popularized this modern imagination of simultaneity. This created the temporal framework for imagining the nation as a community living simultaneously, if anonymously, with each other.

Similarly, nationalism involved new conceptions, and manipulations, of space. Anderson uses the term in both its literal and metaphorical senses. In colonial territories, space, in both the physical and social meanings of the word, was measured by the “pilgrimages” that native functionaries were able to undertake. Anderson asserts (somewhat obscurely) that their administrative postings mapped out the contours of the imaginary nation that was coming to take shape in their consciousnesses. In this sense, space also functions as a measure of sociopolitical distance, separating the colonized from the metropolitan dynastic realm against which the struggle for national independence is waged.

More fundamentally, the nation is imagined as spatially limited; it exists in conjunction with other nations that lie beyond its finite borders. In Chapter Ten, “Census, Map, Museum,” Anderson notes the critical role of map-making in historically documenting, defining, and administering colonial possessions. The technology of European map creation with its use of the Mercator projection fundamentally altered the perception of geographical (and political) space in the colonized territories. The continuous boundaries of maps demarcated exclusive sovereignties occupying clearly-defined space between other sovereignties. Maps, like censuses, attempted a totalizing classification facilitating the exercise of administrative and military power. As an instrument rife with ideological considerations, the map, along with the census and the museum, was incorporated into the official nationalisms of postcolonial nation-states. In its most stripped-down form, the map became a national logo, instantly recognizable and forming a powerful image of national identity.

The Antiquity of the Nation

One of the paradoxes of nationalism is that while the nation-state is a relatively modern institution—little more than two centuries old—the nation is often felt by nationals to be ancient, even eternal. The ideology of nationalism frequently involves the imaginative conjuration of an immemorial national past and future destiny. This is particularly true of nations whose national identity is closely tied to their linguistic identity. Anderson demonstrates that linguistic nationalism was originally a European development; language was not a defining issue of the independence movements in the English and Spanish colonies in the Americas.

In 19th-centuryEurope, nationalist movements began to constellate around vernacular languages spoken by ethnic groups that were subsumed in the large, polyglot dynastic realms. This linguistic nationalism belongs to the second generation of nationalist movements. Appearing after the establishment of nation-states in the Americas, it justified itself as a re-awakening of national identities, long submerged but of ancient pedigree. Becoming aware of being a Czech, Hungarian, or German involved re-discovering one’s nationality, which was felt to be an ancestral, essential quality that was embodied in the literature, myths, and folklore of the vernacular language one spoke. Previous to the rise of linguistic nationalism, the ‘civilized’ languages of French, Spanish, German, and English were not thought of as belonging to any territorially-defined group but were used by the educated and aristocrats across Europe. When vernaculars began to function politically, that is, to distinguish national communities from the polyglot dynasties that subjected them, they were embraced as irrefutable evidence of the antiquity of those nations.

Nationalism constructs a narrative of national identity, which conveniently (and creatively) ‘remembers’ and ‘forgets’ historical facts. Ancestral heroes, victories, and catastrophes from eras that long predate the nation-state are assimilated into the narrative in a strikingly anachronistic fashion. English schoolchildren learn that William the Conqueror, for instance, was a founding father of the English nation, though he was a Norman and the English language as we know it didn’t exist until centuries after the Battle of Hastings. The Albigensian crusade, waged in parts of what is now southern France in the 13thcentury, is incorporated into the historical narrative of ‘France,’ though, as Anderson points out, “most of the murdered Albigensians spoke Provençal or Catalan, and […] their murderers came from many parts of Western Europe” (200). The nationalist imagination recasts historical personages and events in national costume, retroactively projecting the modern national consciousness onto the past in the effort to secure that past as one’s own.

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