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The relation between Buddhism and constitutional law is not just a story of Buddhist influences on public law; it is also a story of how concepts and ideas that are prominent in constitutional design and interpretation also come to influence Buddhism. The chapter investigates this possibility by looking closely at a new transnational movement of televangelist Buddhist monks who form part of the “Mahamevnāwa Monastery.” Mahamevnāwa monks have taken the linguistic ideology of Sinhala nationalism which was central to constitutional practice in Sri Lanka and made it a central tenet of Buddhist practice (i.e. making the national language the language of Buddhism). They have also taken an idea that the law of the land should be accessible and representative of the “nation” which is core to the very concept of constitutional law itself and turned it into a soteriological principle of accessing nirvana. I argue that what links both these things is that both the constitution and the Mahamevnāwa reforms embody similar forms of linguistic ideology in which the ideal state can be realised by creating “public” texts for the uplift of the “nation.”
How did Tripoli, a medium-sized secondary city, become the centre of Lebanon’s anti-imperialist and Arab nationalist protest movement?
Anti-French mobilizations in Tripoli created a unique city corporatism that helped to unite most of the Sunni population politically until the 1970s. When Tripoli was carved out of Syria and attached to the new state of Greater Lebanon in 1920 by the French mandate, the city lost its importance and was demoted to secondary status.
This paved the way for a strong, Arab nationalist city identity in Tripoli, driven by Abdulhamid Karami, a man of religion turned politician. Tripoli’s nationalist identity subsequently morphed into various Islamist trends, involving the bourgeois Islamists, the pro-Palestinian Islamists and the Maoist-turned-Islamist urban poor.
Nationalist and Islamist ideas found a foothold in Tripoli due to the many ties between the city and prominent nationalists and Islamists in Syria. However, Tripoli’s ʿAlawites and Christians contested the Arab nationalist identity of Tripoli as formulated by its Sunni leaders.
The question of how to make nationalism inclusive has occupied many proponents of nationalism. Will Kymlicka suggests that a “multicultural nationalism” can be one way to achieve this end. On this model, minority rights are designed to transform majority attitudes of membership in the nation by focusing on minorities’ contribution to the national community. I argue that Kymlicka is too optimistic in thinking that nationalism can underpin inclusionary imaginaries of the political community. Nationalism tends to naturalize the majority culture’s position as the entity that legitimizes the state and thereby has a privileged relation to it vis-à-vis minorities. If minority rights are to transform majority attitudes, I suggest, they are better supported by a form of “multicultural patriotism.”
Yearnings for political change – dormant for decades, suppressed by coercion and perceptions of unattainability – can suddenly appear realizable with the emergence of new stimuli and facilitating conditions. For a Fourth Wave of Democratization, which ended Communist rule in Europe, the Gorbachev-led fundamental change of the Soviet political system and of Soviet foreign policy was the crucial facilitator. There was a circular flow of influence, which began but did not end in Moscow, in which a liberalization that evolved into democratization in the Soviet Union acted as a stimulus to pressure from below in East-Central Europe. But the attainment of decommunization and national independence in those countries emboldened the most disaffected nations within the Soviet multinational state. The transformation of the Soviet political system was consciously sought by Gorbachev, but the fragility of the state in conditions of political pluralism became evident. The USSR was not in crisis in 1985 but fundamental reform led to crisis by 1990–91. Gorbachev’s embrace of political pluralism plus Yeltsin’s paradoxical demand for Russian independence from the Union led to the Soviet breakup. Even apparently consolidated political orders, America’s included, are potentially fragile, as Trump’s attempted subversion of US democracy, with Republican Congressional backing, has underlined.
Many responses to the resurgence of “majority nationalism” assume that that there is nothing normatively significant to the claims of national majorities. They accordingly seek to blunt the force those claims – or simply redescribe them in ways that do not account for majority nationalists’ central commitments or concerns. The very arguments used to ground minority rights in Kymlicka’s works appear to equally justify at least some majority cultural rights. Where a group possesses majority status by reasonably benign means and yet faces threats to its culture through the operation of, for example, globalization, Kymlickean arguments for minority rights grounded in cultural vulnerability equally justify majority cultural rights. In “Nationhood, Multiculturalism, and the Ethics of Membership,” Kymlicka presents justice-based reasons to think that majority rights claims should nonetheless be neutralized. Yet his arguments assume that majority and minority rights claims will only be made within the boundaries of a nation-state and that rights recognition in those circumstances will be a “zero sum” game. This assumption too is unwarranted in a globalized world. The issue of majority rights claims is at least more complicated than what Kymlicka allows.
Today, most societies are grappling with debates over how to create public narratives of belonging that reflect multicultural societies without alienating powerful cultural majorities. Yet the impossibility of neutral national narrative should not lead the state to forego investment in a shared national narrative. Citizens may disagree upon policies or principles, but they need shared values and attachments which can be called upon to mitigate polarizing debates within nation-states. This chapter argues that state-sponsored investment in a shared, inclusive and pluralizing national identity is one of the most important ways of creating the symbolic public good of national belonging.
Koopmans and Orgad argue that multiculturalism has taken a life of its own, swinging too far in one direction. The authors assert that the rapidly changing reality calls for a new majority–minority theory and argue that the moral justifications for cultural minority rights should also apply to majority groups. They present two areas in which majorities may become culturally vulnerable and need legal protection: immigration control and domestic affairs. The core of the argument is rooted in a unique framework to address majority–minority constellations. This “intergroup differentiation approach” distinguishes between “homeland majorities” and “migratory majorities,” alongside the traditional distinction of indigenous/national and migratory minorities. In doing so, they criticize the tendency in the multiculturalism literature to gloss over differences between the Anglo-Saxon classical immigration countries, where majorities are of migratory origin, and the countries of the Old World, where new minorities of immigrant origin face indigenous majorities. Koopmans and Orgad provide practical examples for the implementation of their approach and explain the different meanings of cultural majority rights. Only by a contextualized and relational consideration of groups, they conclude, can competing demands of majorities and minorities be fairly evaluated.
This article examines the work and trajectory of ʿAbd al-Salam al-Diyuri, a Moroccan engineer educated in Egypt who became a nationalist writer, editor, and publisher during the last decade of the French Protectorate (1912–56). One of only a few Moroccan engineers trained in Arabic during this period, al-Diyuri developed a vision of modernization rooted in the popularization of technical knowledge that distinguished him from colonial engineers as well as nationalist elites. French experts exercised an epistemic dominance over the practice of engineering under the protectorate as well as after Morocco's independence. In this context, al-Diyuri's arguments traced the contours of an alternative future for the country—one that tied decolonization to the cultivation of technical competencies among the public at large. This article follows the path of a nationalist engineer and intellectual whose work both embodied and attempted to move beyond a contradiction between the democratization of knowledge and the demands of development.
The political salience of religious issues and identities has been rising in Thailand, and this is increasingly reflected in electoral politics. Thai political parties seek to position themselves in relation to struggles over the location of the ideological centre of gravity, which has pitted defenders of the religio-political status quo—a monarchy-centred civil-religious nationalism—against Buddhist nationalists, on the one hand, and proponents of greater secularization, on the other. In the 2019 general election, political entrepreneurs ‘particized’ these religio-political differences, which has far-reaching implications for majority-minority relations, to an extent that appears unprecedented in recent Thai political history. This argument is developed through an analysis of the platforms, policies, and rhetoric put forward by political parties contesting the election, which concluded an almost five-year period of direct military rule. This analysis suggests we need to pay greater attention to the role of political parties and electoral competition in maintaining and contesting the secular settlement in Thailand.
In January 1909, the students of the Azhar, the Islamic world’s most prestigious university, went on strike. Protesting recent curricular and administrative changes introduced by the Egyptian Khedive, they demanded increased material support and asserted the university’s right to govern itself. After several weeks of demonstrations that drew thousands of supporters into the streets of Cairo, the Khedive suspended the reforms that first caused the Azharis to walk out. Oddly, this remarkable mobilization has nearly vanished into obscurity. Drawing on reporting from the Egyptian press and intelligence memoranda from the Egyptian Ministry of Interior, this article argues that the apparent incongruity of Azharis on strike was no mistake. Their willful rejection of ascribed categories helps to explain both why this movement of unionized seminarians speaking a language of self-government proved so striking for contemporary supporters and critics alike and why this event has slipped through the cracks of a historiography still framed by those very categories. Long forgotten in histories of both nationalism and organized labor, the Azhar strike represented a pivotal moment in the emergence of mass politics in Egypt. In invoking “union,” the Azharis engaged in multiple, overlapping acts of comparison. Inspired by the modular repertoires of militant labor, they simultaneously hailed the constitutional revolution of the Ottoman Committee of Union and Progress as a model for political transformation. Rooted in a self-conscious critique of colonial comparativism, their struggle thereby furnished new materials with which to elaborate a telescopic series of anti-colonial solidarities that were themselves fundamentally comparative.
How do European far-right parties reconcile their long-standing nationalism with their allegiance to European “civilization”? Although they are certainly not contradictory, simultaneously adopting national and supranational identities requires considerable discursive maneuvering to articulate clearly. In this article, I argue that the European Far Right negotiates the boundaries between its national and supranational identities through two discursive mechanisms, abstraction and embedding, which present civilizationism as nonthreatening to and partially constituted by nationalism. Specifically, abstraction links European civilization to general features of a shared heritage, whereas embedding connects civilization to elements of the nationalist repertoire. I demonstrate the Far Right’s monopolization of civilizational discourse and use of these twin mechanisms through quantitative and qualitative analyses of more than 1,000 party manifestos and more than 650,000 tweets. These findings contribute to the growing scholarly literature that treats civilizations as supranational “imagined communities” and has implications for the study of nationalism, civilizationism, and the Far Right.
Since the early 1990s, large numbers of Polish Roma have emigrated, mainly to Germany and Great Britain. Unlike the migration of Polish (non-Roma) citizens there was an intriguing silence regarding the migration of this ethnic group. The absence of Roma in the grand narrative of migrations from Poland, as we argue, suggests that the notion of belonging and citizenship were unequally distributed among Poland’s population. Based on our ongoing ethnographic research among Polish Roma migrants, complemented by an analysis of relevant documents, we argue that these inequalities and hierarchies are deeply rooted and there is an interesting continuity in how they were produced and reproduced prior to and after the 1989 regime change. We argue that one of the key factors in these movements, the collectiveness of the migration project – i.e. migrating as an extended family group as a component of the moral economy of Roma mobility – is mutually produced by unequal citizenship, mobility regimes and strong moral obligations stemming from kinship ties.
German business in India advanced not only in the business-to-business sector, as seen in the previous chapter, but also in the Indian bazaar, and many observers testified to the universally available and very visible products “Made in Germany.” Chapter 2 shows how German exporters entered the Indian bazaar by tracing two of the most competitive export industries in detail: cutlery and gramophones/recorded music. In both, German and British manufacturers went head to head, with competition unfolding over price, distribution channels, product specifications and (legal battles over) trademarks. The label “Made in Germany,” forcefully introduced by the British in the 1880s to stigmatize German low-quality products, eventually turned into a political advantage when anticolonial protests increased the perceived value of “non-British” products in some areas of India, most notably in Bengal during the anti-partition protests. While short-lived and with limited immediate impact on business, the nationalist upheaval in the bazaars taught German firms that presenting themselves as “outsiders” of the British-Indian colonial economy had advantages for them and inspired first debates about a strategy that leveraged the Indian nation’s history, aspirations and relationship to Britain.
Chapter 5 follows German business strategy and Indo-German collaboration through the Great Depression and its aftermath. The depression ended India’s open-door policy and introduced preferential tariff treatment for British goods. At the same time, the German political landscape changed significantly with the Nazi Regime (1933–1945), re-shaping both German economic policies but also MNE’s export strategies. There was widespread antipathy in India towards the lawlessness and anti-Semitism of Hitler’s government, including some boycotts against German goods. But German businessmen also became savvier in understanding the fine-grained differences of economic nationalism in India and developed more targeted strategies to exploit them. It was at this time that they invested heavily in business intelligence as a basis for strategic decision-making. Moreover, the German Reichsbank started a system of subsidizing German exporters, which helped them to regain some competitiveness despite Germany staying on the gold standard. Giving up much of the bazaar business, German business in India focused more than ever before on the industries that were seen as complementary to Indian activists’ agenda, most notably chemicals, electrical goods and machinery.
The final chapter draws out conclusions from a century of Indo-German relations. It shows the deep limits of treating nations and nationalism simplistically as barriers to international integration. The growing interconnectedness of the world did not challenge the ideas of nationalism but rather reinvigorated it. Nationalism is not the opposite of globalization but a part of it. To better integrate nations into our understanding of international business history and strategy, this chapter shows that we need to move beyond a transactional view of international business steeped in the assumption that nationalism introduces political risks and increases transaction costs, towards a relational view in which multinationals are understood as integral players in an evolving geopolitical landscape comprised of national communities. Such a view considers how multinationals navigate two sets of relationships that characterize nations: the relationships that define the nation as an imagined community with a collective past and an aspirational future and the relationships that define the nation in relation to other nations. These relationships allow us to consider the ways in which the economics of international business are inseparable from the politics and ideology of the global economy.
The first chapter explores the market entry of Germany’s large multinationals, exemplified by a detailed analysis of the electrical company Siemens and the chemical company Bayer, the two companies that pioneered German business with India in the 1870s. It shows how these large German players initially followed in their British rival’s footsteps and used the institutional advantages that British firms had. In the absence of discriminatory legislation against them, German big business became increasingly more successful as they learned to capitalize on the long-established links that Britain sustained with India. This happened at the same time that they first developed a self-understanding as “German” businesses. The chapter shows that the concept of “nationality” sits uneasily with the realities of these early endeavors in India and traces how nationalism slowly emerged as a topic of discussion.
Syed Ross Masood (1889-1937), grandson of the Muslim modernist Syed Ahmad Khan and former principal of Osmania University, traveled in 1922 from India to Japan as Director of Public Instruction for Hyderabad to assess Japan's educational system. In Japan and Its Educational System, a report published in 1923, Masood concluded that education had been key to Japan's rapid modernization and recommended that Hyderabad follow the country's model of modernization and educational reform: transmit Western knowledge through widespread vernacular education, and focus on the imperial tradition, freedom from foreign control, and patriotic nationalism. Masood sought to use mass vernacular education to create in Hyderabad a nationalist subject, loyal to the ruling Muslim dynasty, who absorbed modern scientific knowledge with its Western epistemic foundations but who remained untainted by Western norms. This study contextualizes and historicizes Masood's attempt to create in Hyderabad a new nationalist subject, focusing on his 1923 report about Japan.
Chapter 4 examines the manufacture and provision of artificial limbs reveals, demonstrating that the maintenance of masculine bodies as national bodies, in the strictest sense, was of paramount concern during the war. While wartime flows of technical knowledge ultimately meant that prosthetic limbs throughout the Allied nations became largely indistinguishable, government authorities who oversaw production were determined to see men refitted with goods that were in essence ‘national’, in their actual construction and in their materials. Technological processes could be transnational composites but the bodies that they managed could not. Wartime prosthetic devices embodied the values of the Allied culture of rehabilitation, manifesting the remaking of the working-class body according to middle-class values. New devices allowed men to perform according to the pre-war masculine ideal and to carry out the demands of labour, but the promises of science to return men to their pre-war forms fell short and veterans participated in various modes of self-fashioning and advocacy to achieve satisfactory solutions on their own terms.
Navigating Nationalism in Global Enterprise analyzes the role of nationalism in global business strategy, showing how multinationals act not just as drivers of globalization but also as sophisticated operators in a world of nations. Using the case study of German companies in colonial and post-colonial India, Christina Lubinski traces how nationalism's influence on business competitive strategies changed over the twentieth century and across major political turning points, such as two world wars and India's transition to independence. She highlights how national imaginings are both relational because they derive from comparisons with other nations, and historical because they mobilize the past to legitimize future aspirations. Lubinski stresses that learning from the past is how multinationals engage strategically with the content of nationalism – i.e., a nation's history, aspirations, and relationships with other nations. In India, German companies' competitiveness was continuously dependent on navigating nationalism and on understanding that nationalism and globalization are inextricably linked.
This book revives a contested moment in the history of aesthetic theory when Romantic-period writers exploit the growing awareness of irresolutions in Kant’s third Kritik, especially in his critique of judgements of the sublime. Read with hindsight, these openings can be seen to have generated literary opportunities for writings that explicitly embraced the philosophical significance delegated to the aesthetic by Kant, but then took advantage of the licence he had conceded. Romantic writing claimed a wider significance of its own that philosophy now had to learn to rationalise. Consequent aesthetic reorientations, in which splendours and miseries become interchangeable, reflect political instabilities already exploited by feminist and nationalist writing. Falling becomes a kind of rising, and literature’s unregulated power of metamorphosis persuasively challenges hierarchies of all kinds, including its own.