Anderson sees the rise of print technology, Christianity, and the educational system in particular as essential to the creation of “deep horizontal comradeship” in the nation-building process in Europe. More importantly, though identities were socially constructed, they were experienced as genuine. Only in this way could identities be meaningful, powerful, and mobilizing.
In line with Anderson and the many historians and political scientists he inspired, it is now widely recognized that all our divergent national identities have been shaped and cultivated through the school system as an unambiguous nation-building exercise.
The nation-state was a product of the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars, and thus a European invention. It was only after the Second World War that the idea of the nation-state “went global” and became the common organizing mode for the world. The difference between the European territorial states and the nation-state was precisely the formation of identity itself, which proved to be far stronger and more enduring than most had expected. In the nineteenth century in many cases, the initial goal was to use identity as a mobilizing force to convince young men to go to war for a higher purpose.3 As families had to sacrifice their sons freely, rulers knew that they would only do so obediently if presented with an idea that transcended their earthly being – the nation. Joseph Weiler puts this well: “The (national) collective transcends the life of any individual – and automatically bestows, on each and every one to whom it belongs, both a past and a future.”4
It is important to reiterate here that simply because most historical pasts and presents are manmade creations, they are not, for this reason, less real. Identities are very real to those who live them, who believe in them, and whose leaders marshal them in the fight against opposing rivals. My point is not to state this rather obvious fact. Rather it is to emphasize that the cultivation of an exclusive identity, and the possible use of it as a weapon against others, is not at all an innocent exercise. One cannot simply dig up and adopt mores from the past or long-lost historical linkages of the kind today’s populists and their tribal cousins take on as signs of identity. These are not constituent elements of personalities and nations, but traits that are shaped and cultivated.
When this is done strategically, we are far away from the idea of the nation as a home for merely peaceful co-existence. However, today we tend to forget that most European (and other) nation-states are exactly that: products of war, ethnic cleansing, flight, and expulsions. When used in modern politics in these years, we may call the phenomenon “fabricated tribalism.” Fabricated tribalism is part of a cynical power game in which political leaders exploit a feeling of belonging to mobilize against well-defined enemies. Amy Chua has described how tribalism has become a central new part of world politics today:
tribalism remains a powerful force everywhere; indeed, in recent years, it has begun to tear at the fabric of liberal democracies in the developed world, and even the postwar liberal international order. To truly understand today’s world and where it is heading, one must acknowledge the power of tribalism. Failing to do so will only make it stronger.5
“Fabricated” tribalism, where culture and identity are employed deliberately for political mobilization, can also be seen as a form of activist identity policy. Identity politics are proliferating everywhere today – not only in Europe. Most people recognize the discussion of identity politics from America, where left-leaning minority groups are accused of being too concerned with their own specific grievances to face issues of broader concern for society. In this book, identity politics is first and foremost seen as a national or (in the case of Catalonia) regional project. What the two have in common is the dangerous tendency to put identity or culture before politics. Why is this immensely problematic? Because while political projects and arguments can be debated and questioned, culture and identity belong to a different sphere that is largely impervious to critical engagement. I will come back to this point further on, but it is essential to note here that shifting a project from the political to the identitarian or cultural sphere removes it from ordinary political contestation and places it in a privileged realm where it purports to be immune to counterclaims. A political movement or proposal is always up for debate, but being based on emotions and beliefs (rather than facts), cultural or identarian projects are inevitably beyond discussion.
Tribal and identitarian discourse spans the political spectrum. Some have called populism and nationalism “the identity politics of the right.”6 Then there are hybrid cases, such as secessionism in Catalonia, in which soi-disant progressives often employ the same kind of exclusionary rhetoric favored by right-wing nationalists.
In both cases, when political campaigners use identity to boost their popularity and power, fear, scaremongering, and “us/them rhetoric” are essential ingredients. The purpose may be nationalist or separatist, but the techniques employed are the same. At the same time, it is necessary to deny this is happening. The legitimacy and power of these movements depend entirely on their authenticity.
Contemporary tribalist movements have worked to keep up appearances, claiming to have a substantive and important project while denying their identitarian curse on Spanish unionists, EU elites, or “cosmopolitan liberals” – though Orbán admitted quite openly that he has declared war on Muslim migrants. Identity politics even came into play when Donald Trump cleverly mobilized against “the Washington swamp” in 2016. Creating and sustaining the conflict is crucial to the tribalistic project, but it is at the same time important that it doesn’t look too identitarian to work. We saw it when Brexit campaigners talked about their opponents, the Remainers, as unpatriotic traitors seduced by European federal ideals.7 In their eyes, the European idea is a stab in the back of true Britishness, which would fare much better on its own.
The same emphasis on betrayal has also been utilized strategically by the secessionist movement in Catalonia. Again and again, the discourse of treason and betrayal crops up in characterizations of Catalan unionists’ (who constitute a majority) opposition to independence.
Identity politics and its accompanying tribalist rhetoric make fewer cognitive demands than calls for increased unity and collaboration. It appeals to the stomach, often to blood, history, and territory, rather than asking people to conceive of ways to bridge cultural differences. As Timothy Garton Ash writes:
[T]he populists tell a simplistic story about how pulling up the national drawbridge and ‘taking back control’ will result in the restoration of an imagined golden past of good jobs, happy families and a more traditional national community.8
Though Ash is referring specifically to Brexit campaigners here, the script is the same for the other identitarian projects we discuss in this book. All that is required is slight adjustments to fit the circumstances.
Modern identitarian campaigning has also become much more professionalized. These days, little is left to chance when it comes to luring voters and supporters. Campaigns rely on well-designed storylines produced in corporate headquarters by highly paid spin doctors and professional strategists educated at the best universities. Excluding here professional trolls and the use of algorithms to sway people’s minds, the psychology behind what one might term “modern engineered tribalism” has turned into a “neurological big business,” as Chua describes tellingly in her recent book Political Tribes. Chua discusses the “dark side of the tribal instinct,” with strategists and strongmen developing campaigns designed to play on “group-bonding” fear and on the “dehumanizing” of their opponents.9
This is probably why tribalists often refer to their critics and opponents as traitors.10 Treason and betrayal are strong words, and their repeated employment shows how identitarian references are often carefully designed to obtain specific political objectives. Critique and satire become dangerous because they reveal the absence of a proper essence in these projects, and in this way resemble the Franciscan church’s attempt to suppress laughter and irony in Umberto Eco’s 1980 novel The Name of the Rose. Irony establishes a critical distance, and to the extent that it grades into ridicule, it is dangerous and must be stamped out, whatever the cost. Few tribalists have been able to tolerate