Comunități Imaginate - recenzia bezbojnicului

S-a purtat recent pe Facebook o întreagă discuție despre naționalism, și dacă este acesta o „religie seculară”. Având în vedere frecventa coabitare a naționalismului cu religia, dar și a unor similitudini structurale dintre acestea, mi se pare de bun simț ca acest -ism să devină un subiect de interes pentru atei. Chiar și fără aceste similitudini, cred că e bine ca un subiect atâta de ubicuu, chiar și în era mult trâmbițatului „post-naționalism” (yeah right), să fie disecat și studiat în amănunt.

Definiția cea mai incitantă pe care am găsit-o pentru naționalism este cea dată de Benedict Anderson, în cartea sa „Imagined Communities - Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism” și anume aceeea că „o comunitate politică imaginată”, adică un construct social. Anderson trece în revistă premisele apariției naționalismului, modificările survenite în societățile europene ce au făcut trecerea de la monarhiile de drept divin al evul mediu la statele ce-și trăgeau legitimitatea de la voința „națiunii” precum și motivul pentru care statele (și implicit națiunile) post-coloniale sunt așa cum sunt.

Nu v-ați întrebat de ce este Indonezia o „națiune” deși e multi-etnică, și într-o oarecare măsură, multiconfesională? De ce imperiul colonial hispano-american s-a fragmentat în „națiunile” pe care le vedem astăzi (și care pentru mulți nu prea se diferențiază una de alta)? De ce Regatul Unit nu s-a rupt în „națiunile” constituente (cea engleză, cea galeză și cea scoțiană) dar Indochina Franceză nu mai există, în locul ei fiind Vietnam, Laos și Cambodgia?

Deși cartea nu este o privire exhaustivă asupra fenomenului numit „naționalism”, optica nefiind cea obișnuită, puternic eurocentrică, găsesc că este o perspectivă interesantă și un ferment pentru reconsiderarea ideii de națiune și, deci, a expresiilor de tip „noi românii”.

Citate:

In due course, discovery and conquest also caused a revolution in European ideas about language. From the earliest days, Portuguese, Dutch, and Spanish seamen, missionaries, merchants and soldiers had, for practical reasons - navigation, conversion, commerce and war - gathered word-lists of non-European languages to be assembled in simple lexicons. But it was only in the later eighteenth century that the scientific comparative study of languages really got under way. Out of the English conquest of Bengal came William Jones's pioneering investigations of Sanskrit (1786), which led to a growing realization that Indie civilization was far older than that of Greece or Judaea. Out of Napoleon's Egyptian expedition came Jean Champollion's decipherment of hieroglyphics (1835), which plural-ized that extra- European antiquity. Advances in Semitics undermined the idea that Hebrew was either uniquely ancient or of divine provenance. Once again, genealogies were being conceived which could only be accommodated by homogeneous, empty time. 'Language became less of a continuity between an outside power and the human speaker than an internal field created and accomplished by language users among themselves. Out of these discoveries came philology, with its studies of comparative grammar, classification of languages into families, and reconstructions by scientific reasoning of 'proto-languages' out of oblivion. As Hobsbawm rightly observes, here was 'the first science which regarded evolution as its very core.'

From this point on the old sacred languages - Latin, Greek, and Hebrew - were forced to mingle on equal ontological footing with a motley plebeian crowd of vernacular rivals, in a movement which complemented their earlier demotion in the market-place by print-capitalism. If all languages now shared a common (intra-)mundane status, then all were in principle equally worthy of study and admiration. But by who? Logically, since now none belonged to God, by their new owners: each language's native speakers-and readers. - pag. 43

If the manner of a man's dying usually seems arbitrary, his mortality is inescapable. [...] The great merit of traditional religious world-views (which naturally must be distinguished from their role in the legitimation of specific systems of domination and exploitation) has been their concern with man-in-thecosmos, man as species being, and the contingency of life. The extraordinary survival over thousands of years of Buddhism, Christianity or Islam in dozens of different social formations attests to their imaginative response to the overwhelming burden of human suffering — disease, mutilation, grief, age, and death. Why was I born blind? Why is my best friend paralysed? Why is my daughter retarded? The religions attempt to explain. The great weakness of all evolutionary/progressive styles of thought, not excluding Marxism, is that such questions are answered with impatient silence.

I bring up these perhaps simpleminded observations primarily because in Western Europe the eighteenth century marks not only the dawn of the age of nationalism but the dusk of religious modes of thought. The century of the Enlightenment, of rationalist secularism, brought with it its own modern darkness. With the ebbing of religious belief, the suffering which belief in part composed did not disappear. Disintegration of paradise: nothing makes fatality more arbitrary. Absurdity of salvation: nothing makes another style of continuity more necessary. What then was required was a secular transformation of fatality into continuity, contingency into meaning. As we shall see, few things were (are) better suited to this end than an idea of nation. If nation-states are widely conceded to be 'new' and 'historical,' the nations to which they give political expression always loom out of an immemorial past, and, still more important, glide into a limitless future. It is the magic of nationalism, to turn chance into destiny. - pag. 9-10