by Yael Tamir
with the national narrative— “with things that have happened
where we are now standing.” Monumental representations of
great moments in the nation’s history are erected and people visit
them in order to revive the past in their minds. From Arlington
to the Arc de Triomphe the landscape of great cities is crowded
with national monuments. The universal nature of this phe-
nomenon teaches us that acts of remembering the past, celebrat-
ing greatness, being inspired by remarkable people answer a
basic personal and collective need. National consciousness and
collective memory form a cognitive map that helps us define
who we are, where we are, and where we are heading. Without
it we are lost. All of us like to hum, “I did it my way,” but looking
from afar we discover that most of us did it “our way.” Without a
collective interpretation that gives meaning to our actions we are
likely to be misunderstood or simply unnoticed. Meaning-
providing frameworks are therefore as essential as freedom itself.
9
This Place We Call Home
Individuals would like fate to endorse their choices (especially
when they are not sure that these are the right ones). Think about
the way lovers would like to believe that they are “meant for each
other”; “a match made in heaven.” They know that it isn’t true but
arbitrariness is far too frightening. Nation- states are no different;
they would like their members to believe that they were destined
for each other, a quintessential band of brothers whose bonding
is special, different from all other similar bonds. Human relation-
ships, in both the personal and the political sphere, need a rea-
son to be cherished, a reason grounded in the particular. If all
attachments are important, how will I choose between them? If
all partnerships are alike, why would I prefer one over any
other— especially when the one I have chosen may seem, at
times, less appropriate than others?
The love of humanity is a noble ideal, but real love is always
particular; it targets certain individuals and endows them with
some special features that make them (for us) unique. Hence,
when asked to give an account of our loved ones we commonly
refer to their exceptional qualities. As a grandma, I am well ac-
quainted with “grandma- speak.” Most grandmas claim their
grandchildren are special, and though logically it is impossible
that each and every child is exceptional, such statements sound
plausible as they describe a person’s inner world rather than an
external measurable truth. Nationalism operates much the same
This Place We Call Home • 69
way; we know that not all nations are exceptional, not all home-
lands can possibly be the most beautiful of all. However, we feel
our nation to be unique. We depict its peculiarity using trivial
images that repeat themselves in other national contexts: its skies
are blue and open, the mountains high and mighty, the valleys
are green, the rivers wide, and the land bountiful. The words of
“America the Beautiful” are an excellent example of this national
adoration of the land.
O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America!
God shed His grace on thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
Old and new nations alike use the very same vocabulary to
inspire nationhood. When a new nation is born it borrows these
common symbols in order to make itself unique. Eric Hobsbawm
recalls that as a child in the 1920s, he was exposed to an attempt
to redraw the Austrian political map.
“German Austria,” this curious and short- lived anthem began, “thou
magnificent land, we love thee,” continuing, as one might expect,
with a travelogue or geography lesson following the Alpine streams
down the glaciers on the Danube valley and Vienna and conclud-
ing with the assertion that this new rump- Austrian was “my home-
land ( Mein Heimat- Land).”1
Despite their banality such descriptions bring tears to people’s
eyes. For a moment they believe that the grass is greener on their
side of the fence.
70 • Chapter
9
Nothing exemplifies the interplay between the banal and the
inspirational nature of home loving better than the “Home Sweet
Home!” signs piled up in supermarkets around the world.
People who place them in their kitchen or over the fireplace
illustrate how the ordinary can turn special and meaningful.
I cannot offer an adequate psychological explanation for how
we transform the universal and ordinary into something spe-
cial. I can only assume that the same mechanism that allows us
to fall in love, create friendships and partnerships, and favor
those we care about also works in the case of nationalism.
A similar psychological mechanism that makes us hum popular
love songs in our most intimate moments thinking they were
written just for us, allows us to be moved to tears when we hear
the national hymn or when our national team wins at the Olym-
pics. The seductive power of the term mine influences our judg-
ment and sheds a new light on the way we experience things.2
The fact that, using the same political, cultural, and psycho-
logical tools, other nations, just like we have, come together to
create a similar union does not undermine our feelings, nor
does it make our national commitments less special. The most
striking example of replication seems the least probable one.
According to Conor Cruise O’Brien, virtually every Christian
nation adopted the image of a chosen people inhabiting a prom-
ised land and applied it to itself. O’Brien provides a partial list
of such nations— England, France, Germany, Poland, Russia,
Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, and the United States— where this
theme was taken up by both whites and blacks.3 The belief of
being chosen is not restricted to the Christian world but is
shared by the Jewish people as well as by many Islamic nations
such as Egypt, Iran, Iraq, and a host of others.
The fact that national discourse is repetitive does not, how-
ever, mean that it is redundant; the same tools are being used
This Place We Call Home • 71
over and over again to draw boundaries that are very real. “No
nation imagines itself coterminous with mankind,”4 Anderson
claims, and all see themselves as having some distinctive features.
Hence an ordinary description of nationalism can coexist with
the belief that each nation is exceptional.
The national myth of origins, the biblical story of the Tower
of Babel, describes a primordial period (or a state of nature)
when humanity was united. In their vanity the people tried
to challenge the power of God by building a tower reaching up to
heaven. In reaction to this attempt God said:
&nb
sp; Behold, the people is one, and they have all one language; and this
they begin to do: and now nothing will be withheld from them,
which they schemed to do. Come, let us go down, and there con-
found their language, that they may not understand one another’s
speech.5
God thus scattered human beings across the face of the earth, gave
them different languages, and divided them into nations. From
that day onward the complex interplay between the particular
and universal has remained an innate feature of human life.
From the iterative nature of nationalism neither pluralism nor
chauvinism follows. Recognizing the existence of other nations is
inherent in nationalism. It is the way in which other nations are
described and treated that distinguishes polycentric national-
ism, which respects the other and sees each nation as enriching
a common civilization, from ethnocentric nationalism, which
sees one’s own nation as superior to all others and seeks domi-
nation.6 National claims can thus be analyzed using two distinct
and incompatible discourses. The first tel s a story meaningful
only to fellow nationals; the second encompasses the universal
dimension and situates the national phenomenon within a gen-
eral framework; both cohabit together in the national mind.
10
La Vie Quotidian
Th e Nationa lism of Ev ery day Life
Contrary to common perceptions, nationalism’s greatest mo-
ments are not on the battlefield, where all great ideas reveal
their ugly faces, but in daily matters, where the American, French,
or Israeli ways of life act themselves out. Most of national life oc-
curs in the realm of the banal: nationalism molds our culinary
preferences; shapes our architecture and decor; orchestrates the
soundtrack of our lives; and fashions what we wear, how we talk,
and what we dream about.1 These are such mundane actions that
we tend to overlook the fact that they are ideologically driven.
Yet ideologies are at their best when their power is invisible,
when they seem natural and can be taken for granted. If asked
to connect an activity with nationalism, most people would not
put gardening at the top of their list. Nevertheless, gardening, the
artificial cultivation of plants and flowers, is an interesting ex-
ample of the way nationalism shapes our everyday life.
Different national cultures cultivate different schools of gar-
dening, hoping the scenery will echo the national character. In
Tom Stoppard’s play Arcadia, Bernard takes a stroll with his
friend Henna, exchanging views about English gardening.
Henna: This is how it looked until, say 1810— smooth,
undulating, serpentine— open water, clumps of trees, classical
boat- house.
La Vie Quotidian • 73
Bernard: Lovely. The real England.
Henna: You can stop being silly now, Bernard. English
landscape was invented by gardeners who were imitating
foreign painters who were evoking classical authors. The
whole thing was brought home in the luggage from the grand
tour.2
Henna is right; there is nothing real about “the real England,”
which is an invented construct. However, as we have seen, the
fact that a perception is fabricated does not make it less signifi-
cant. The English narrative successfully tied together greenness
and holiness. Wil iam Blake’s poem “Jerusalem” (which served
as an uplifting hymn during World War I) ends with the following
words:
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land.3
Green and pleasant land thus turns from an aspiration to a de-
scription of the true England. As Henna wittily notes, in a national
era even nature is invented.
Here is another flowery example: When I was ten I received a
textbook; I can still remember the brown leather cover holding
together thin delicate pages filled with beautiful black- and-
white illustrations of the local flowers. Our Country’s Flora was
my guide to nature. Little did I realize its total disregard of the
fact that biological habitats do not overlap national borders, that
plants, wildlife, and climate do not stop at the checkpoint; they
are indifferent to issues of sovereignty and do not care whether
this or that part of the land was separated or annexed. Reading
74 • Chapter
10
Our Country’s Flora, one got the impression that Israel was a
unique botanic habitat whose flora and fauna were special and
whose borders were natural. One day I came across a nature book
published by a Palestinian Israeli. It had the same beautiful
sketches of the same flowers and trees, and yet the mere fact that
it was written in Arabic made it alien. This was a clear expression
of the geopolitical reality of two nations sharing a land, each pre-
tending it was its sole owner. My version of Our Country’s Flora
is just one example of many other nature books that turned into
national texts.
In order to emphasize their connectedness to nature, nation-
states choose national flowers and plants— the Swiss edelweiss,
the Canadian maple leaf, the French iris, the Dutch tulip (a flower
originating in Istanbul), and the American rose— as well as na-
tional birds like the French Gallic rooster, the American bald
eagle, and the Finnish whooper swan, which should not be con-
fused with the Danish mute swan. The purpose is clear: creating
a bond between the nation and its land. This is our land; it
couldn’t have been otherwise— it is God’s choice, nature’s dic-
tate, history’s dictum.
Architecture is another means of shaping the public sphere
in the nation’s image: celebrating the use of local materials and
raising an awareness of the particular beauty of traditional con-
struction methods among local workers and artisans, encourag-
ing them to look at “their thatched roofs, their half- timbering and
their gables as if they are born directly from the landscape.”4 In-
terior decorations and furniture complete the picture by using
local materials and images reflecting the beauty of the land.
No doubt the most well- known national representation is
the national cuisine. From apple pie to tacos, hummus, and spa-
ghetti, national food is believed to reveal the true nature of a
people. It is as hot, sharp, refined, or straightforward as the
La Vie Quotidian • 75
national character, its ingredients are natural, and the preparation
is part of a long tradition passed on by our grandmothers. No
wonder motherhood and apple pie are so strongly connected.
Each and every nation has its “madeleine” that brings back the
smell of home and illuminates our lives in moments of crisis.
According to Eric Storm, the nationalization of the domestic
sphere that began in the fin de siècle was prompted by
the rise
of a new cultural trend driven by a small national elite eager to
spread the national message. It had a profound impact on a wide
range of areas, like domestic architecture, decorative arts, garden-
ing, and cooking.5 This process, Storm asserts, became more
evident during the early decades of the twentieth century when
national activists appropriated all kinds of local or social habits
for their nationalist project.
Hence, contrary to the assumption that national identity is
shaped in times of crisis, I suggest it is born and sustained in the
kitchen, the garden, and the nursery.
It seems that the most common way of fulfil ing national obligations
is not through self- sacrifice, or by subordinating one’s wel - being
and interests to the welfare of the collective, but rather by partici-
pating in a cultural dialogue. The language we teach our children,
the bedtime stories we tell them, the lullabies we sing to them, are
as good a way of satisfying our national obligations as a declaration
of readiness to die for the sake of the nation.6
We have now come full circle. Nationalism, I have argued, en-
tered modernity through a democratic and economic corridor.
We can now see that it answers not only the needs of the state
but also of modern individuals wishing to become authors of
their lives. Nationalism enriches their personal and public expe-
rience, endowing their deeds with special importance, making
them part of a continuous chain of creation. This creative
76 • Chapter
10
richness could not have been produced without the supportive
hand of the state. The ambition of the modern state to transcend
voluntarism and functionality and turn into a unique, excep-
tional, meaningful, and eternal homeland made it nationalism’s
best ally.
11
Subjects into Citizens
Educating a Nation
When emphasizing efforts invested in nation building and its
ongoing maintenance, it is necessary to visit the most effective
and constructive tool— the public school. While in premodern
times education was the privilege of kings, gentleman, and
landlords, in modern democracies everyone is expected to
acquire the knowledge and skills necessary for political
deliberations.
As the Reformation encouraged the translation of the holy
