Topics Justice

Question I am a Zimbabwean student studying in South Africa and like many, am distressed quite deeply by the events of Zimbabwe's recent past. I am particularly opposed to the blinding lights of patriotism and nationalism-and the inextricable fetters it places upon human thought. However, at the moment I feel that much of my disgust and my desire for change in Zim is motivated by that very patriotism I tend to abhor. Is nationalism ever justified? Or does it always form the pretext for the ideologies of hate that grip the world so voraciously? Also, is the use of force justified in opposition to the government's fierce crackdown on civil protest? Is civil disobedience of Mahatma Gandhi's brand the only justified response to tyranny?

Accepted:
August 5, 2007

Comments

Others who spend more time thinking about such issues may well have more to say, but your question struck a chord with me because even though I'm not a Zimbabwean, I find the situation in Zimbabwe particularly distressing. The reason is partly personal: there are people I care about who have family and friends in Zimbabwe. And that fact lets us make a link with questions of patriotism and nationalism.

We have obligations to people we don't know. At the very least, we are obliged not to do certain things that would harm them. And we may very well have more positive obligations to provide aid, for example, or defense. My point isn't to try to sort all that out. But virtually all of us take ourselves to have special obligations toward people with whom we have special relationships. Other things equal, I take my obligations to my friends, my family and my colleagues to be stronger and more extensive than my obligations to strangers. Indeed, these sorts of relationships are an imporant part of what makes life meaningful for most of us. But that sort of meaning gets spread beyond the circle of people we actually know. Most of us feel a special connection with communities whose members are mostly unknown to us -- colleagues in other departments, citizens of our home towns, members of associations we belong to, and so on.

Obviously this can extend to nations. I grew up in Canada and I'm still a citizen. No matter how long I continue to live in the USA, I'll have a special affection for Canada. I'm now an American citizen as well. I'm aware that in spite of my many frustrations with politics in this country, I also feel a special connection with it -- a connection that provokes a mild sense of offense when I encounter knee-jerk anti-Americanism in conversations with Canadian friends.

So far, this is reportage: we actually do respond in this way; we actually do find ourselves taking on group identities -- including national identities. One might argue that this is a bad thing, and that we're obligated to purge ourselves of such tendencies. But ethical codes that fly in the face of deep facts about our normal functioning are open to suspicion. And since groups can often accomplish things that individuals can't, it's quite possible that group identities and group loyalties can be forces for good.

My first suggestion, then, is that you shouldn't feel guilty about the fact that some of your distress about the situation in Zimbabwe is based on something like patriotism. You DO have a special relationship with Zimbabwe, after all. That said, your hesitation is no doubt based on the fact that patriotism and nationalism can be very nasty sentiments and have been the source of a good deal of the world's misery. That's a fact that we can't be reminded of too often. Our fellow-feeling for our compatriots should never be allowed to turn itself into hostility toward those outside our circle. On the contrary: a reflective person might be able to see our capacity for patriotic sentiment as hinting at something even bigger: if I can care about countrymen whom I will never meet, then I am no doubt capable of expanding that circle of care well beyond national boundaries. But the danger that patriotism will lead us to contract rather than expand our sympathies is very real.

Nationalism is particularly vile when it leads to aggression. But your sentiment towards Zimbabwe doesn't appear to have anything of that about it. On the contrary, you are distressed by the way in which Zimbabweans have been made to suffer so pointlessly by the actions of some of their own.

So in answer to your first question ("Is nationalism ever justified?") I would say that "justified" may not be the most useful word. It's permissible to have a special sympathy for one's compatriots, but not permissible to let that be the basis for aggression toward other people, nor for taking one's own nation to have special rights and privileges in the world.

As for whether force is an acceptable recourse, that's a question that has no easy answer. Even given Mugabe's blighted and benighted vision, one might hope that a non-violent solution to Zimbabwe's woes would be possible. My own sense is that regional leaders in Africa -- not least in South Africa -- haven't brought nearly enough pressure to bear. And needless to say, the rest of the world has been far too idle. One hopes that will change; South Africa, in particular, is feeling the strain of a refuge problem that may make continued hand-wringing impossible. I would find it hard to argue that violent but proportionate resistance could never be justified -- especially if the international community continues to let things slide. Whether things have reached that state in Zimbabwe isn't a question that I feel well-positioned to answer. All I can say is that I fervently hope that the rest of the world gets its act together quickly and helps Zimbabwe find a real but peaceful resolution to a tragic state of affairs.

It's worth distinguishing two very different kinds of nationalism or, more broadly, partiality. The first is well-expressed by "my country right or wrong". Here the agent is a nationalist or patriot by putting the interests (crudely conceived) of a certain group above those of others and above morality. With the second kind of nationalism or partiality, the agent puts an especially high value on the moral quality of a certain group or of certain special others.

To illustrate, consider how a parent may respond to the discovery that her son has stolen toys from a little store in the neighborhood. Family partiality of the first kind may lead the parent to help ensure that the theft is not discovered (even while this parent would not give similar help to stealing children of another household). Family partiality of the second kind may lead the parent to ask the son to bring the toys back and to apologize to the shopkeeper (even while this parent would make no effort to impart such a character lesson to stealing children of another household).

In your Zimbabwe case, both kinds of nationalism may be in play. As a citizen of the country, you may have special affection for your compatriots. This first kind of nationalism may lead you to hope for an end of the dictatorship and of the enormous suffering it inflicts on your compatriots. The second kind of nationalism may lead you to work toward a more just Zimbabwe, one with decent political leaders, just social institutions, and morally alert citizens. These two ends fit well together.

But the two kinds of nationalism may come apart on some other occasions, as when you must decide whether to support an unjust attack by your country upon a weaker neighbor whose resources Zimbabwe might appropriate. Here the first kind of nationalist would support the attack; the second would oppose it.

You can endorse patriotism of the second kind, join the struggle for a just Zimbabwe, without endorsing the first kind of patritism which you (rightly, in my view) tend to abhor.