Chapter Nine
Making Japanese
NOTE: For most readers this chapter will be the most difficult of the entire course. It is also the most important chapter. Be prepared for a mental (possibly including psychological) workout, and realize that several readings might be necessary for full comprehension.
Commenting on Italy's unification in 1860, Massimo d'Azeglio made his famous remark that "We have made Italy, we now have to make Italians." What exactly did he mean by this statement? Precisely the same thing could have been said in Japan seven or eight years later: "We have made Japan, we now have to make Japanese." And this making of Japanese was no luxury to be accomplished at leisure. It was an urgent priority of the new Meiji state.
In addition the concrete elements of state building such as taxation, building an army, and putting down rebellions, the Meiji government also engaged in the related but different task nation building. In other words, it not only had to make Japan, it also had to make Japanese. Despite the frequent misuse of the term, particularly in the United States, it is important to bear in mind that "countries" or "states" are not the same thing as "nations." This section begins our explanation of the difficult but terribly important topic of nations, nationalism, and the modes of thought associated with them. One reason the topic is so difficult is that few people ever stop to think about or analyze this matter. We assume it is obvious what nations are and think about the matter no further. In fact, however, few contemporary Americans are familiar with what constitutes modern nations. Academic specialists on the history and character of nations disagree in many areas, but most would agree with the basic points described in this section. Here we mainly examine nations generally, drawing on examples from various places in the world. In subsequent sections and chapters we examine specific aspects of Japan's national construction and identity.
To get a sense of the conceptual and terminological complexity of the topic of nations and nationalism, study these two Wikipedia entries: *nation* and *nationalism.* In the daily discourse that surrounds us, we are *bombarded with vague, partially-overlapping terms such as "nation," "country," "ethnic group," "nation-state," and more*. Were we ever to try and sort these terms out, providing each with a rigorous definition, the task might seem overwhelming. It may not be fun, but such sorting is possible in most cases. (Race," may be an exception to "possible in most cases." "Race" as it is commonly used is such a vague, crude term that it is virtually impossible to pin down, and, to the extent that it might be definable, it is only definable in specific historical or rhetorical contexts--#extensive food for thought#.) Once we have sorted out, defined, and contrasted some of these terms, be sure to use them carefully and rigorously in the rest of the course.
Let us start with an easy term: country. First, "country" is simply another way of saying "state." The two terms are interchangeable except, of course, when talking of the "states" in the contexts of the structure of the United States of America and a few other countries with federalist structures. Even here, the term "state" as a name for the country's political sub-units, not "province," "prefecture," "district," or some other term, is significant. The individual states that comprise the United States of American are sovereign entities, at least in theory. The federal government of the United States, for example, may not legally abolish a state. Japan's central government, by contrast, could abolish any of the country's prefectures, at least in theory. So too, could any state in the United States abolish a city, county, or township by revoking its charter. Prefectures, cities, townships, et cetera, though they have governments, are not sovereign entities. States and countries are.
So, what are some broad features of countries in general? First, a country is a geographically bounded entity. Even if its boarders may be in dispute with a neighboring country, that it has boarders is not in question, simply their precise location. Countries have specific spatial dimensions and locations, though this fact alone is not sufficient to distinguish countries from other forms of social groupings. Next, countries claim *sovereignty* within their boarders. (Here is a dictionary definition of "sovereignty:" "1. Supremacy of authority to rule, as exercised by a sovereign or a sovereign state. . . . 3. Complete independence and self-government. 4. A territory existing as an independent state." I might add my own: "The quality by which a bounded entity, normally a state, derives its authority to exercise rulership within its boundaries from its own existence and not from an outside entity or source.") When I enter France, for example, I become subject to the laws of France because it is a sovereign country. Furthermore, these claims of sovereignty are generally recognized by at least some other countries (which is what it means for one country—not nation—to officially "recognize" another).
In other words, simply declaring my house and yard a sovereign country will not make it one. To make the claim stick, one needs sufficient force to fight off rival claims. The matter of force brings us to the real heart of the definition of a country. A country or state is, at its core, an organization for enforcing order. States usually do other things, often many other things, but coercive force lies at its core regardless of the specific form of government. This force is required to defend claims of sovereignty from outside entities and to exercise sovereignty within the country's boarders. States generally come into existence whenever societies become sufficiently complex that specialized order-enforcing entities such as police, courts, military, and so forth come into existence. In the words of Ernest Gellner: "The ‘state' is that institution or set of institutions specifically concerned with the enforcement of order (whatever else they may be concerned with). The state exists where specialized order-enforcing agencies such as police forces and courts, have separated out from the rest of social life. They are the state." (Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism [Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1983], p. 4. Hereafter cited simply as "Gellner.") In short, a "state" without force is no state at all.
Although this definition of a state is unproblematic for most scholars who study social and political organization, experience has shown that it can be shocking to students at first glance. There are some people, in other words, who cannot emotionally accept the idea of the *state as enforcer of order*, whatever else it may do. One reason for this emotional resistance is that many modern states, including the United States of America, have done a good job of covering over the coercive force upon which they are based. The U.S. president, for example typically talks about all the good things the state does or can/should do. He rarely dwells on the means for getting these things done, for example the forced extraction of wealth from individuals by the state. Please! Let us call taxes something like "paying your fair share," not "the forced extraction of wealth from individuals by the state." But however much you may adore them, taxes are not optional in the eyes of the law and its enforcers. And a democratic form of government does not change the fact that it is the state which has the power and authority to enforce decisions arrived at by a democratic process. If the state of Pennsylvania enacts a 10% additional sales tax on books through due process of law, for example, and you own a book store or buy books in Pennsylvania, you will pay—whether you think it is your "fair share" or not. And taxes are only one dimension of state's primary function of order enforcement. Incidentally, the state-as-enforcer mode operates independently of labels like "liberal," "conservative," "right," "left, "democratic," "totalitarian," and so forth. Both a right-wing dictatorship and a socialist democracy, for example, rely on the coercive power of the state to maintain order. To the extent that this point is emotionally difficult to accept, we can say that the state has done a good job indeed of putting a smiling face forward and keeping the guns out of sight!
So countries are sovereign entities with clear physical boundaries and order-keeping institutions backed by coercive force. As such, they are relatively concrete entities that can be explained and described in specific terms. They are not products of the imagination but real things in the strictest sense of the word. And countries have been in existence for a long time, dating back to ancient antiquity. Notice that the previous section of this chapter is about the creation of Japan as a modern state. Although its institutions constantly evolved as time went on, establishing the Meiji state was a relatively simple and fast process. Establishing the Japanese nation, however, required much more time, and never had a clearly-defined starting or ending point. To this day, it remains an ongoing process. So, what is a nation anyway?
S T A T E S << >> N A T I O N S
Concrete << >> Abstract
Ancient Vintage << >> Relatively Recent
Based on Power << >> Based on Belief
Usually Sovereign << >> Imagined as Sovereign
Legal Entity << >> Cultural Imaginary
Although nations overlap with states in certain respects, *they are quite different*. First, nations are abstract and intangible, the product of our imaginations. Nations are imagined communities. Second, unlike countries, nations are relatively recent developments in human history. Precisely how recent is debatable, but using a reasonably stringent definition, nations began to develop in Europe during the eighteenth century and spread throughout the world during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Today, nations are so much a part of our world that we tend to assume they have existed since the time of the earliest human societies. However, though hard to imagine from today's perspective, there have been other ways of organizing human societies besides nations. Third, nations are imaged to be cultural entities. In other words, culture counts for much in defining a nation, but it is less essential in defining a state. Certainly we know that culturally-derived ideologies inform the government of many states, but states normally claim geographical, not cultural, distinctiveness from other states in defining themselves. Nations, on the other hand, typically lay claim to cultural distinctiveness. When a Japanese, for example, confidently proclaims that "we Japanese" are the only people in the world who enjoy the taste of nattō 納豆 (fermented soybeans), s/he is speaking not as a citizen of a state but as a member of an imagined national community. That this claim is inaccurate (e.g., a significant number of Japanese dislike nattō, and fermented soybeans are a common food in parts of China) is hardly the point here. What is important is that s/he believes that all Japanese share certain cultural traits, one happening to be a taste for nattō. It cannot be stressed enough that belief, not objective fact, is the key to national creation and membership.
But we still have yet to define a nation in concise terms. Here is my attempt at a brief, composite definition that draws together insights from several theorists:
A nation is a variety of imagined community, the members of which share a belief of common ancestry (regardless of the actual situation). Owing to a strong tendency in modern times to see culture as deriving from biological ancestry, this belief in common ancestry engenders the derivative belief that all members of the national community hold a fundamental cultural essence in common and as a trust bequeathed to them by their ancestors.
Let us unpack this dense definition point by point. First, to say that nations are imagined communities is important but hardly sufficient. (The term "imagined communities" is associated with Benedict Anderson, perhaps the most influential of the many scholars who study nations. See Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, Revised Edition [New York: Verso, 1991]. One reason is that all human communities larger than villages are imaginary insofar as each member of the community will never become personally acquainted with all the other members. So he or she must imagine their existence, a task made easy in the present era of mass media. So nations are one way of imagining human communities. Let us make an important point clear now: to say that *nations are imagined* is in no way to say that they do not exist or that they are not important. On the contrary, nations and the ways of thinking associated with them are inextricably connected with a wide range of political activity, both within states and between them. Nations, in short, are powerful, and we shall explore their power further below.
Next is belief in a common ancestry. We members of our nation, the thinking goes, all came from the same ancestor, with "ancestor" regarded literally as a particular person in some cases, or, more commonly, as a small group of people. It is often relatively easy to demonstrate that such beliefs are incorrect, but such "objective" facts are largely beside the point. It is belief in a common ancestry that lies at the core of modern national imagining. How, you might now be wondering at this point, do nations differ from ethnic groups? In other words is not (alleged) common ancestry also a core component in the definition of an ethnic group? Yes. Therefore, nations and ethnic groups overlap to some degree. But there is a major difference: ethnic groups are defined by others; nations are defined by their own members. In other words, if the members of this class all believed that were are of common ancestry, we would be a nation whether anyone else agreed or not. To be an ethnic group, at least some outsiders, and typically many, would have to agree that the group does in fact all share a common ancestry. So in the case of ethnic group definition, the "objective facts" are more important. In the case of nations, belief on the part of its members is the key. (Belief in common ancestry as a key element in national construction is an insight from Walker Connor. See Ethnonationalism: The Quest for Understanding [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994].
The importance of belief leads to another key point about nations not explicitly mentioned in my definition. Nations bear a certain resemblance to religious groups. According an international relations dictionary, for example, nations are: "a social group which shares a common ideology, common institutions and customs, and a sense of homogeneity. ‘Nation' is difficult to define so precisely as to differentiate the term from such other groups as religious sects, which exhibit some of the same characteristics. In the nation, however, there is also present a strong group sense of belonging associated with a particular territory considered to be peculiarly its own." Nations provide a sense of permanence that was once exclusively provided by religion. Faith in the nation, so to speak, has become a *new, modern religion*. We shall return to this point soon.
The final element in my definition is the important derivative belief that common ancestry leads to common culture. If we take culture to be the complex web of learned ideas, behaviors and orientations we acquire from the socialization process, and the products of these ideas, behaviors, and orientations, then common ancestry would seem an odd thing to posit as the source of culture. During the nineteenth century, however, what some scholars call the "germ theory of culture" came into prominence. In this view--now thoroughly discredited among specialists but still widely believed--culture derived from biology. Culture was "in the genes," to use twentieth-century terminology. In this way of thinking, the culture (or alleged culture) of one's ancestors (or alleged ancestors) became part of the biological inheritance of the present generation. Those with a common ancestry, in other words, must necessarily share common cultural traits. This view was closely connected with notions of "race" and forms the core of what many now call "scientific racism." The "scientific" part of the term points to the fact that until recent decades, many scientists regarded human races as actual, definable biological entities. Furthermore, during the nineteenth century, science often explained cultural traits as having biological roots. Although scientific racism and the germ theory of culture no longer have the support of the mainstream scientific community, many contemporary people still look at these matters through the lens of nineteenth-century ideas. What about you? Do you think that cultural traits such as language, food preferences, modes of dress, ways of thinking, et cetera, can be passed on in the genes? Think this matter through. During the first half of the twentieth century, many learned people thought that such bio-cultural transmission was possible. Here is part of their legacy: #Relatively brief food for thought#. #Extensive food for thought#.
Owing in part to the germ theory of culture, and for other reasons, the modern idea of nation typically includes a shared belief in a common cultural essence. Much like the fundamental assumptions of religion, the existence of this (alleged) common cultural essence is taken as an article of faith. Nobody can actually see or touch it, but we all "know" it is there. Benedict Anderson provides a superb example of this quasi-religious dimension of national belief in what is perhaps the quintessential symbol of nationhood: "No more arresting emblems of the modern culture of nationalism exist," he says, "than cenotaphs and tombs of Unknown Soldiers." He explains why:
The public ceremonial reverence accorded these monuments precisely because they are either deliberately empty or no one knows who lies inside them, has no true precedents in earlier times. To feel the force of this modernity one has only to imagine the general reaction to the busybody who ‘discovered' the Unknown Soldier's name or insisted on filling the cenotaph with some real bones. Sacrilege of a strange, contemporary kind! Yet void as these tombs are of identifiable mortal remains or immortal souls, they are nonetheless saturated with ghostly national imaginings. (This is why so many different nations have such tombs without feeling any need to specify the nationality of their absent occupants. What else could they be but Germans, Americans, Argentineans . . . ?) (Anderson, Imagined Communities, pp. 9-10.)
*Tombs of unknown soldiers and similar monuments* are unlike tombs to specific soldiers or even the general category of soldiers. Instead, they enshrine the nation itself.
Notice the point Anderson makes about the emptiness of the tombs. This emptiness corresponds with the emptiness of the nation itself. In other words, the alleged cultural commonality shared by the nation's members cannot be pinned down. There is, in fact, nothing that all the members of a nation have in common culturally except the belief that they must have something in common. When theorists try to explain exactly what it is that the members of a particular nation have in common, they inevitably fail. But in their failure, they succeed in re-enforcing the belief that there must indeed be something, vague though it may be, at the core of the nation. To identify it, we must simply work harder and examine the situation more deeply.
The nation is empty at its core, but not unreal. Its reality derives from the nation as a living belief in the minds of its members. This belief is *constantly reaffirmed by talking about (or writing about) the nation*. Were we to stop talking about nations, they would cease to exist—but don't worry! Despite the predictions of some theorists, there is no danger that national talk will end any time soon. That there is no clearly-definable cultural essence at the center of nations virtually ensures a continuous stream of talking about it, as various pundits put forth theories about the precise essence of being French, Japanese, Korean, or whatever. This constant stream of talk (and writing), in turn, reinforces the general belief that there must indeed be something uniquely distinctive about "we" French, Japanese, Koreans, or whoever.
Again, do not think that because nations are based on "mere" verbiage, that they lack power. Words and the notions connected with them can be terribly powerful, and national words are among the most potent yet devised. Consider, for example, the trauma connected with the former Yugoslavia, a country that broke up violently into its constituent nations during the 1990s. People routinely make great sacrifice on behalf of their nations. In time of war, especially, the idea of nation has been a tremendous motivating force. Nationalists, of course, would never agree that the nation (or at least not their nation) is a word-built entity wrapped around an essentially empty core, in short, a social imaginary. Instead, they would say that the nation is the natural derivative of the common culture shared by a specific people. Nationalist literature, therefore, typically concerns itself with discovering or explaining the alleged cultural core shared by all the members of the nation. In Japan, this type of literature even has a well-known name, Nihonjinron 日本人論, which might be translated as something like "theories of Japaneseness." Although interest in this genre peaked during the 1980s (along with Japan's economic clout), some large book stores in Japan still have an entire section labeled Nihonjinron. #Article about Nihonjinron#. #More difficult article about Nihonjinron that also incorporates many of the points in this chapter and the previous one#.
There is more to be done in refining our understanding of the term nation, but at this point, let us turn to consider the term "nationalism." Nationalism has two basic meanings. First, it is a political principal that all nations are entitled to their own states. In other words, each nation should, ideally, be embodied by a state whose boarders are perfectly congruent with the nation. Of course, some members of the national group will inevitably reside in areas physically separated from the majority of the rest of the national group. In other words, the ideal state of perfect congruence between states and nations will never be attained. Even more important as a reason is that there are more potential nations in existence than there are viable states to embody them. If all the small nations of the world formed their own states, those states would simply be too small to be viable as independent economic and political units in many cases. Still, the idea of "self determination of nations" (once loudly proclaimed, but not followed, by Woodrow Wilson of the United States) is a powerful force in today's world. We imagine nations as sovereign units, and thus feel that they are entitled to their own sovereign states. But the practical fact that there are more nations than there are viable states means that some nations will have to exist within the political boundaries of "alien" or semi-alien states, that is, states which also include other national groups. Belgium is a good example of a state consisting mainly of two nations: the Flemish (Dutch-speaking) and Wallonian (French-speaking). Surely you can think of some other multi-national states.
The second meaning of the term nationalism is simply #loyalty to one's nation# *<read first two paragraphs>*. This loyalty might coincide with loyalty to one's state, but it need not necessarily do so, and often does not. It is for this reason that politicians sometimes refer to nationalism as a dangerous or destabilizing force in the world. The former Yugoslavia is a good example of nationalism destroying a state. The state of Yugoslavia collapsed under the pressure of national strife because loyalties to the nation (here the same as ethnic group) were stronger than loyalties to the multi-national state. Indeed, the state of Yugoslavia was a twentieth-century creation, forged and held together by military force.
The term "nation-state" indicates a place in which the national and state boundaries coincide 100% or very nearly so. How many of the world's countries are nation states? The precise number depends on how strict one is with definitions, but most estimates would place it at under 10% of the total. In other words, in over 90% of the world's countries, there is at least one significant minority nation within that country's borders. In some cases there are two nations of roughly equal size, sometimes there are more than two nations of roughly equal size, and sometimes the nations within a country are unequal in terms of size or power. The large number of multi-nation states combined with the power of national thinking produces an atmosphere conducive to violence. The violence often takes place when one nation tries to create its own state or where one nation or a state tries to eliminate or suppress a minority nation (for example, the Kurds in Iraq, Iran, and Turkey, as a group on both the giving and receiving end of national violence). We live in a world of nations and states, but their boundaries do not usually match, and this situation helps to produce tension and violence.
There are three additional areas that we need to investigate with respect to nations: 1) how national thinking tends to hide vertical social hierarchies; 2) possible relationships between nations and states; and 3) national thinking and historical imagination. National thinking emphasizes commonalities. We are all members of the national family, the thinking goes, all descendants of the same ancestors sharing a common culture. In this way, national thinking de-emphasizes or masks the many divisions that typically exist in societies. Such divisions may be based on formal social classes, economic circumstances, religion, gender, "race," and/or other factors. It is generally to the state's advantage to foster nationalism, provided that the most powerful group(s) or nation(s) within the state's boundaries identify with the state. For example, national sentiment, with its stress on horizontal ties within the national group, tends to moderate demands for social or economic equality.
National sentiment can certainly help strengthen the power of states, the classic example being *wartime appeals for national unity*. On the other hand, nationalism can also disrupt and undermine states. For example, one national group might seek to break away from the state as in Chechniya's recent attempts to break away from Russia (not to mention the breakup of the Soviet Union and #Yugoslavia#). Another possibility is that the majority of the residents of a state might perceive those who govern the state as members of an alien nation. Though less common today, the classic polyglot empires of Europe such as the Austrio-Hungarian empire were weakened by such tensions. In China around the turn of the twentieth century, as more Chinese began to think of themselves as Chinese, the ruling Manchus of the Qing dynasty came under intense criticism as being "foreigners." There are other possibilities. For example, in the last decade the United States has seen an increase in the number of groups who, in the name of patriotism, oppose the government of the United States. The government's position, of course, is to portray such groups as being opposed to "the people" of the United States, while the members of the groups typically portray themselves as representing "real" or "true" Americans alienated by the U.S. government. In other words, most such anti-government groups are nationalistic, even though not all such groups would agree on exactly what the "American" nation is. Can you say what it is?
Like many conceptions of supreme deities, nations are often imagined to stand outside of time. In other words, they are immortal, having always existed as long as there have been Germans, French, Japanese, and so forth. (Of course, there is the contradiction that it is only with the rise of nationalist thinking that we typically assume that "Germans," "Japanese," "French," et cetera have always been clearly identifiable groups.) For nationalists, no matter how far back one looks, there will be evidence of the nation's existence. In this view, the people living in the ancient Japanese islands during the stone age, were, of course, "Japanese"—at least according to nationalist thinking. It is ironic that nations are creations of modern minds, and yet their *alleged existence since hoary antiquity* is one of their major characteristics. In fact, few of the people living in the Japanese islands a few centuries ago, not to mention in ancient times, would have considered themselves "Japanese." None of the inhabitants of the land now comprised by Germany would have considered themselves "German" until comparatively recent times. But today it is hard for us to imagine these people as anything but Japanese or German. Once imagined, the nation is typically regarded as timeless. It may indeed evolve or develop, but it has always been there and the (alleged) cultural essence at its core will live on eternally—or at least as long as the nation's people continue to exist. Despite this ahistorical quality of national thinking, the ancient past is terribly important for nationalists. In it, they are able to find the alleged roots of the present nation. This process of "discovering" the roots of the present in the past, especially the ancient past, is typically a creative process, much like one would write a novel or paint a painting. In other words, nationalists create new pasts to suit their needs in the present. Keep this point in mind when we examine the creation of Shinto in modern Japan, as well as for other topics.
Let us now take up a concrete example of this phenomenon from Germany, starting with this slide show, *The Nation in German Architecture:*
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Study the picture of the tomb of Theodoric, and take note of when he was alive. In his time, he would have had no idea what it meant to be "German." But as an ancient king of a people modern German nationalists claimed as the ancestors of "the Germans," Theodoric took on profound importance in the early twentieth century as a symbol of the German people as a nation. In the late nineteenth century, Theodoric's tomb, long neglected and falling apart, was carefully renovated. Monuments to Bismarck began to appear that looked much like Theodoric's tomb. These monuments typically adorned the borders of the German empire, emphasizing the spatial dimension of the nation's "homeland." Other public monuments and buildings were constructed in the manner of Theodoric's tomb, an example of which is shown in the slide show. The intent was to link Germany's current (early 20th century) power and prosperity with its alleged ancient national roots. Just like the tombs of unknown soldiers today, notice that Theodoric's tomb became a shrine to the idea of the nation. Also notice that it does not really matter who, if anyone, actually lies within or under Theodoric's tomb—we know (i.e., believe) he was German. (This paragraph is based on Barbara Miller Lane, "National Romanticism in Modern German Architecture," in Richard A. Etlin, ed., Nationalism in the Visual Arts [Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art, 1991], pp. 111-139.)
Let us consider yet another example of national imagining, this one from France. During a recent stay in Paris, I walked through some of the famous cemeteries. My interest was in those grave stones that attributed a specific purpose to or significance of the life/lives of the deceased. The vast majority of inscribed grave markers make no mention of such things, though they often list various honors of the deceased (awards, important positions in government, et cetera). In those cases, however, when a specific meaning was ascribed to the dead person's life, there is an interesting pattern that reflects the emergence of the idea of nations into the general consciousness of ordinary people. Specifically, prior to the middle or late nineteenth century, nobody died for France. In other words, "France" was not an abstraction of sufficient importance for which to sacrifice and die. People did die for abstractions prior to the middle or late nineteenth century, but "France" was not one of them. Instead, people died for liberty, honor, justice, and, of course, various moral and religious entities, causes, or qualities. Even if the death took place in battle, it was a death for "honor" or some religious purpose, not for "France." Study this slide show, *Dying for France:*
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But by approximately the turn of the twentieth century, it had become common to die (and thus to live) for "France." Of course, the obvious reason for so many such deaths for France was the First World War. But it is significant that during this war was it typically "for France" that the soldiers died (this idea first emerged during the Franco-Prussian war of 1870–71). Early twentieth-century "France," in other words, had become a nation, and, as such, it had taken on quasi-religious qualities. Especially interesting is one case in which a husband and wife both explicitly died "for France," one in 1975 and the other in 1990, both after having lived long lives. In other words, these were almost certainly not wartime deaths. And if they died for France, then they must also have lived for France. In this grave stone we see the ultimate logic of nationalism and one reason some writers call it "the modern religion."
One reason that this material on nations and nationalism is so difficult to understand for many contemporary students is that because we live in a world of nations, the idea seems so natural and obvious that it is hard to step back and analyze it with any sense of an objective vision. Another reason for the difficulty of this material for students from the United States is that the United States is an anomaly in the world of nations. It has some pseudo-national qualities, but it is essentially a multi-nation state, not a nation-state. As such, it is typical of most other states in the world, but the anomaly is that most Americans routinely refer to the United States as a nation, and, if ever pressed to think about the matter, typically assume that it is a nation-state. Americans like to believe that "we" are "a nation of immigrants," cast into a great, egalitarian "melting pot." Without the belief in a common ancestry, however, an essential element in national imagining is missing. In fact, social and political life in the United States was long dominated by one ethnic group (the so-called "WASP"s), which tended to imagine its ancestral origins in certain parts of the British Isles, or, more broadly, Western Europe. As Walker Connor points out:
The unfortunate practice of calling [the American people] a nation and thus verbally equating American with German, Chinese, English, and the like, has seduced scholars into erroneous analogies. Indeed, while proud of being "a nation of immigrants" with a "melting pot" tradition, the absence of a common origin may well make it difficult, and conceivably impossible, for the American to appreciate instinctively the idea of the nation in the same dimension and with the same poignant clarity as do Japanese, the Bengali, or the Kikuyu. It is difficult for an American to appreciate what it means for a German to be German or for a Frenchman to be French, because the psychological effect of being American is not precisely equatable. Some of the associations are missing, and others may be quite different. (Connor, Ethnonationalism, p. 95.)
Waving the flag and appealing to pride in being American can, under certain circumstances, bring forth a warm, fuzzy feeling in some Americans. At the level of daily life, however, the intensity of the feeling of being "American" is not usually as strong or poignant as national sentiment in its complete form. Incidentally, today the separate nations, or potential nations, that exist within the boarders of the United States are becoming increasingly more apparent and are beginning to demand sovereignty. Whether the state will ultimately survive this increase in national sentiment from diverse groups remains to be seen.
(For a useful look at contested issues of national sovereignty in the United States, as well as how such issues commonly intersect with the politics of physical appearance ["race"], money, and different visions of history, see: #"Who is a Seminole?"# And think about the native American tribes. Why do they usually call themselves "nations" both in casual speech and in official matters [#a specific example#]? Approximately how many nations reside within the boundaries of the United States?)
We have already mentioned that another characteristic of modern thinking about nations is that it often merged with certain notions of "race." In some cases, in other words, the nation became synonymous with the race:
Bismarck's famous exhortation to the German people, over the heads of their particular political leaders, to "think with your blood" was a[n] . . . attempt to activate a mass psychological vibration predicated upon an intuitive sense of consanguinity An unstated presumption of a Chinese (or German) nation is that there existed in some hazy, pre-recorded era a Chinese (or German) Adam and Eve, and that the couple's progeny has evolved in essentially unadulterated form down to the present. It was recognition of this dimension of the nation that caused numerous writers of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries to employ race as a synonym for nation, references to a German race or to the English race being quite common. (Connor, Ethnonationalism, p. 94.)
Especially in the case of humans, "Race" has always been a terribly difficult thing *to define*. This difficulty is even more apparent today, since relatively few geneticists recognize the existence of human races based on strict biological criteria. But despite the vagueness of the term, most people still assume that human races are real things, which mean something important. The close historical and mental ties between national imagining and racial imagining is another reason for the difficulty many citizens of the United States typically have in defining an American nation, were "nation" to be used in the definition worked out in the above paragraphs, not simply as a synonym for "country."
In connection with the fact that nations are imagined as communities, as "deep, horizontal comradeship[s]," Anderson links the sense of "we ______" with the power to motivate. "Ultimately," he says, "it is this fraternity that makes it possible, over the past two centuries, for so many millions of people, not so much to kill, as willingly to die for such limited imaginings." (Imagined Communities, p. 7.) Nations, in other words, are powerful. They encourage and enable us to do things we might not otherwise even contemplate. One of many possible examples is the group suicides by Japanese civilians during the battles of the Pacific War. In part these suicides were motivated by fear of bad treatment at the hands of oncoming enemy soldiers, but the strong sense of fraternity in Anderson's sense of the term also informed these acts (as well as coercive group psychology). For example, a boy on the island of Tokashiki 渡嘉敷 during the Battle of Okinawa in 1945, six years old at that time, later recalled how people around him began to kill each other as American soldiers drew near. "We determined," he said, "we would choose a way of dying appropriate for subjects of the Emperor." The emperor was Japan's most important national symbol at that time, and was regarded as a *living embodiment of the nation itself* As a result:
My memory tells me the first one we laid hands on was Mother. Those who had blades, or scythes, cut their wrists or severed arteries in their necks. But we didn't do it that way. We might have used a string. When we raised our hands against the mother who bore us, we wailed in our grief. I remember that. In the end we must have used stones. To the head. We took care of Mother that way. Then my brother and I turned against our younger brother and younger sister. Hell engulfed us there. (Haruo Taya Cook and Theodore F. Cook, Japan at War: An Oral History [New York: The New Press, 1992], p. 365.)
Not only did national imaginings play a major role in here and elsewhere in facilitating these kinds of gruesome deaths, but in this case, the national identity of the civilian victims was not entirely clear.
Okinawans and other Ryukyu islanders resided in land that had been a separate kingdom until 1879, when Japan annexed the territory by force. In the 1940s, few mainland Japanese considered Ryukyu islanders to be authentic or true Japanese. For their part, most of the islanders saw no other strategy than to redouble their efforts at being Japanese—because no other national identity seemed a practical alternative. There is a grotesque irony to the stories of Okinawan civilian "suicides," such as that quoted above. Many such deaths were in part the result of what we might call hyper-nationalism, an intense striving to be Japanese at all costs, despite, and because of, (mainland) Japanese tendencies to view Ryukyuans as less than full members of the national family. Today, many residents of the Ryukyu islands affirm some sense of Ryukyuan identity, sometimes to the point where this identity conflicts or competes with a sense of Japanese identity. *Conflicting and competing national identities* are common in many areas of the world.
In addition to its tremendous power to shape the behavior of individuals, that nations are imagined as fraternal communities has the following additional consequences:
It de-emphasizes or masks the vertical, unequal relations within one's own society.
It encourages a strong consciousness of the distinctiveness of one's own group, and thus a strong sense of "us versus them," with "them" being imagined communities different from one's own.
It therefore de-emphasizes a sense of common humanity with those outside the national group.
Skillfully employed by those who govern a country, the idea of a national community can engender hard work and sacrifice, even the ultimate kinds of sacrifice, among the population.
Statistically, as of approximately 1980, of the world's states were:
9.1% are nation-states;
18.9% contain a nation that accounts for 90% of the total population, but also at least one significant minority nation;
18.9% contain a nation or a potential nation accounting for 75-89% of the population;
In 23.5%, the largest national or ethnic element accounts for 50-74% of the population;
In 29.5%, the largest nation or potential nation accounts for less than half the population.
<from Connor, Ethnonationalism>
But what about multi-nation states, which are much more common than nation-states? How do nationalisms and the state interact? There is no single answer, but there is always some degree of tension. Consider some of the possibilities. The state could employ its coercive force to establish the majority nation as "the" nation, thus suppressing the members of minority nations to one extent or another—even trying to wipe them out in extreme cases. Japan's attempt, largely successful, to force Ryukyuans to become Japanese is one example. Or, the state might try to accommodate more than one nation, using its coercive force to keep the peace, Tito's Yugoslavia being a good example, especially in hindsight. Another strategy is an attempt to appeal to some broader or more abstract common ground that might unite the different nations, sometimes heard in the context of Canada's nationalism problems or in U.S. appeals to "strength in diversity." In any case, national sentiment can be a powerful force in excluding certain people or groups from full membership in a state. It is not uncommon, for example, to hear people in the United States speak of "true" or "real" Americans. What sorts of things might such rhetoric mean?
Because of its power, the idea of nations and the model of the nation-state spread rapidly throughout the world during the nineteenth century. The rulers or ruling groups of countries and empires had no choice but to adapt to a world of nations--both in response to changing internal conditions and to external threats--owing to the tremendous power nations can have in marshaling the human resources of a country. Japan became a nation in middle and late nineteenth century; China in the early 20th century. Japan's process of nation-building (as distinct from state-building or country-building) took place relatively quickly, speeded by a high degree of top-down direction from the state. Although the survey nature of HIST 172 permits only a brief look at this process, HIST 481 examines it from a variety of perspectives.
Before leaving the topic of nations in general, we examine examples of national consciousness in music. Let us start with three popular songs. The first two are of relatively recent vintage from Taiwan. Taiwan is a particularly interesting case because it is an area of ambiguous national identity. If ever Taiwanese stop telling themselves that they are Chinese, there is a danger that they might forget this "fact." Until recently, the state has rigidly maintained that "we" are "Chinese," and that is still its official line. Furthermore, Taiwanese are able to imagine a relatively pristine, ideal "China," since the physical territory of the Chinese state is something outside of Taiwan. The instructor will play the songs in class, but here are the lyrics, in translation.
Ode to the Chinese Nation
The grassy plains of Qinghai Province stretch on forever.
The interlocking peaks of the Himalaya Mountains extend to the heavens.
Ancient Sages and venerables made this place their home.
Through blowing wind and falling rain [trials & tribulations], it has stood for 5,000 years.
The Chinese nation (nation/people/race)! The Chinese nation (nation/people/race)!
The test of [of its viability] is simply that the waters of the Yellow and Yangzi rivers never cease flowing.
The Chinese nation (nation/people/race)! The Chinese nation (nation/people/race)!
Generation after generation, it goes on forever.
<repeat>
Descendants of the Dragon
Far off to the east there is a mighty river, and its name is Long River [= Yangzi River].
Far to the east there is a river, and its name is the Huanghe [= Yellow River].
Who has never seen the Yangzi's beauty, where in dreams, the deities forever cavort in its waters?
Who has never heard of the Yellow River's power and strength, as swirling waters and rushing currents occupy our dreams?
In the east of ancient antiquity, there was a dragon, and its name was the Central Kingdom (China).
In the east in remote antiquity, there was a group of people, who were all descendants of the dragon.
I grew up at the feet of this giant dragon, and I took my place as one of the dragon's descendants.
Eyes of black, jet black hair, and yellow skin—we are for all eternity the descendants of the dragon.
On a quiet night a hundred years ago, deep in the dark hours before the great change . . .
. . . the sound of guns and cannon smashed that quiet night to pieces, and we were surrounded and pressured by hostile forces on all sides.
For how many years did the cannon roar? For how many, many years?
Great dragon, great dragon! Polish your eyes [= stay alert]! Forever and ever, polish your eyes [be vigilant]!
Virtually every point about nations and national thinking made in the previous paragraphs can be found in these songs. If you can identify and explain them, you probably understand this material well. If not, more study is needed. Be sure that you understand what nations are and how they both differ from and interact with states before moving on to the following sections and chapters of this book.
Finally, here is a WWI-vintage song, *There'll Always Be an England*. As an exercise, compose a short essay analyzing the rhetorical strategies in the song with respect to what we have studied above about national imagining. (Optional: you can probably find .MP3 files for this song if you do a search. I will play at least one version in class.)
The Meiji state had two broad objectives. First, it sought to establish itself firmly as the undisputed government of Japan. It is with respect to this goal that the money, power, and (metaphoric) sex appeal were relevant. Additionally, the leaders of Japan's new government sought to make or create Japan as a nation. After its first decade, the Meiji state could lay a secure claim to Japan, but the task of making Japanese—that is, creating a citizenry who consciously thought of themselves as "Japanese," as part of the national family—was just beginning. In some sense, the task is still ongoing, as it is in all nations. Keep these points in mind as you you study the remaining chapters of this book.
One reason the Meiji state was so intent on creating Japanese as fast as possible was because of the external threat. The second Taiwanese song above makes vague reference to China's troubled modern history, the details of which would be too painful to tell explicitly in a popular song. Much of China's misery was the result of imperialism, initially British, and later also French, Russian, American, German, and Japanese. The Meiji leaders did not want Japan to end up like China, a victim of imperial aggression. They knew that one reason for the power of many European states was national sentiment, and they sought to make Japan into a nation-state as part of a broader program summed up by the slogan "fukoku-kyōhei," "enrich the country; strengthen the military."
Some of the general steps that the Meiji state took to strengthen itself vis-à-vis a potentially aggressive world included:
encouragement of national consciousness;
clearly establishing Japan's physical borders;
taking steps to improve Japan's image vis-à-vis "the West;"
extensive adoption and adaptation of American and European technology and institutions;
the creation of Japanese "traditions" in numerous areas, many of which creations are still regarded as "traditional" to this day (despite their having been created in modern times).
Although the power of the Meiji state was great, much greater than the power of previous governments, it was not so great as to silence opposition to its programs. All of the steps mentioned above proved controversial to one extent or another. After all, "Japan" was a diverse territory that included many types of people, many local cultures, and a variety of points of view. With its increased contact with the broader world, more and more Japanese became exposed to an ever wider range of ideas. The process of making Japanese was not smooth or easy. It consisted of the clash of different points of view and different political interest groups within a broader world context.
In 1800, very few of the residents of the Japanese islands would have considered themselves "Japanese." By 1900, nearly everyone did. What happened to bring about such a change, and what were some of the consequences of it? Keep these questions in mind as we move through the final part of the course. If this general topic interests you, consider taking HIST 481.
To reinforce some of the points made in this section by examining certain aspects of the modern imagined community in contexts you might not ordinarily think about, study this slide show: *The Nation in Modern Japanese Advertising Posters:*
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