What counts for true patriotism？

Brian YS Wong November 24, 2024 22:36

It was the tenth lecture of my twelve-lecture series introducing my MA students to the theory and practice of politics. On this gloomy, somewhat dour November day, I opened my lecture with two particular images: the cenotaph, and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

These two examples echoed the opening adopted by Benedict Anderson, many decades ago, when he set forth his conception of the nation as an imagined community in his magnum opus. I took the opportunity to invite my students to visit and pay tribute at the Cenotaph in Central, perched conveniently between the Mandarin Oriental and Hong Kong Club.

The lessons one can draw are twofold – dulcet et decorum pro matria mori (the classic takeaway from the horrors and morose legacy of war), and, perhaps less obviously, the innate power of nationhood and nationalism in shaping the way we relate to and understand others. Whilst it is materially impossible for us to know all who exist and are members of our country – given that there are upper bounds to the number of persons an individual can possibly get to know (and remember) in a lifetime – we would nevertheless still relate to these individuals as fellow citizens.

For instance, a banker residing in Shanghai would identify with a Chengdu farmer on the most primary and basic of levels – as co-citizens of modern China; alternatively, an American living in Ohio may espouse radically divergent values from one in Manhattan, yet both would proudly declare themselves to be Americans. It is hence through a combination of characteristics both objective – e.g. that one pays taxes to and adheres to the laws of the land under one’s nation-state – and subjective – e.g. that one identifies voluntarily and strongly with one’s nation –that an individual can qualify as belonging to a particular nation. Whilst not all nations have states, and some states possess a multitude of nations, we would inevitably stumble upon the assertion that is often asserted in popular discourse: that it is our ethical obligation to be patriotic.

Yet what, really, does patriotism mean? Granting that the state and the nation must not be conflated, does patriotism refer strictly to one’s fidelity and fealty towards one’s state, or could it also manifest in a more nation-oriented form – one that rewards and prizes one’s relationship with one’s nation? Is patriotism necessarily territorially or jurisdictionally oriented, such that one can only be a patriot in relation to a particular plot of land, codified and recognised in international law as sovereign state territory? Or can individuals be patriotic about non-state entities – e.g. super-state or infra-state entities? There is a lot to unpack here, and the three hours I had for the lecture were frankly insufficient.

More substantively, there is the question of true patriotism. These days, it is in vogue in many territories and societies to proudly declare that one is a “patriot”. Patriotism has become a badge of honour, whether it be in America, Russia (under Vladimir Putin), or even Britain (in the aftermath of the past decade of trials and tribulations). Yet what, really, does true patriotism entail? I put these questions to my class, and I found what ensued extremely intriguing.

The starting-point motivation for this enquiry was the empirical phenomenon where many a prominent “patriotic” celebrity in certain countries would be found to be avid beneficiaries, in private or general, of other countries – some could be found owning a raft of houses and apartments in a foreign country, whilst others could well have invested significant sums of money (and sent their children) abroad, despite fervently extolling the virtues of their own country. Such examples of “patriotism”, I suggest, are but prime exemplars of moral sanctimony and hypocrisy – testament to the most cynical of knaves as they seek to weaponise patriotism as a tool of career advancement.
In response, a student of mine suggested that a true patriot must contribute necessarily towards nation-building. That is, an ideal patriot should be able to construct and enhance actively their nation’s standing and stability. To this suggestion, I raised the example of “necessary gadflies” – patriotic intellectuals and commentators who nevertheless saw it as a matter of moral imperative and urgency to decry and call out the failures and inadequacies of their state.

An alternative view is that patriots must actively enrich and further the interests of the people with whom they identify – whether they be co-nationals or fellow citizens residing under the same state. From a reciprocity-grounded perspective, there must be a real and positive impact made by patriots on their countries of residence, lifting all boats at once, as opposed to enriching solely themselves. Yet this should not be conflated with straightforward and maximal consequentialism, under which the identities and nationalities of agents receiving help and opportunities should not and do not matter.

The trouble with this claim is twofold: there are many sincere individuals who are driven by a real sense of desire to make a positive impact to their own nation yet are handicapped by the dearth of resources and wherewithal; there is also an innate unhelpfulness when it comes to the indeterminacy of vagueness of “the people”. Who are the people? Whose interests should matter? Clarifying and defining such a question would take us back to the boundary problem of democratic studies 101: how are we to conceptualise the demos, and how should we account for clear divergences and splits within the population, should they exist?

Perhaps the ultimate answer is as follows. True patriots are not necessarily those who sacrifice for their country the largest (in absolute terms) in exchange for perceived loyalty and political recognition. Instead, true patriotism lies in the genuine intention to pursue and advance the interests of individuals who share one’s imagined community – whether it be a state or a nation. Whether such intentions come to fruition, is a related but non-essential question: we can envision highly clumsy and inept patriots who barely succeed in delivering upon better outcomes for their fellow citizens. We can also imagine intellectually brilliant “patriots” who are disingenuous and mendacious in how they approach their relationship with the state.

Brian YS Wong

Assistant Professor, HKU