NATIONS AND J O U R N A L O F T H E A S S O C I AT I O N AS

NATIONALISM
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FOR THE STUDY OF ETHNICITY

A N D N AT I O N A L I S M EN
Nations and Nationalism 20 (1), 2014, 172–190.
DOI: 10.1111/nana.12055

Book Reviews

Dominic Malcolm, Globalizing Cricket: Englishness, Empire and Identity. London:

Bloomsbury, 2013, viii + 198pp. £47.61 (hbk).

In this work of historical sociology based on a wide reading in the secondary literature
Malcom uses the figurational sociology of Norbert Elias to explore the interdependence
between broad societal change and individual behaviour.
His first chapter parallels the eighteenth century codification of the rules of cricket
with the parliamentarisation of English politics. Both processes centre upon London
are led by aristocratic elites and aim to restrict violence. Writers represent (‘invent’)
both achievements as ‘English’: manly yet peaceable, competitive yet restrained,
hierarchical yet socially inclusive, traditional yet adapting to urban growth and
industrialisation.
Chapter 2 examines the Victorian ‘nationalisation’ of the game. Rules are elabo-
rated to reduce physical dangers associated with increases in speed and skill levels (e.g.
in the mode of bowling) that in turn are linked to professionalisation. Yet creeping
professionalism and increased urban middle and working class participation do not
overthrow images of cricket as rural, amateur and deferential.
Chapter 3 considers the imperial diffusion of cricket, though empire exhibits so
great a variety of forms that generalisation is impossible. Chs. 4 and 6 examine the
alleged ‘failure’ of cricket to take off in the USA and Wales, Scotland and Ireland. In
fact cricket was a popular game in the USA until at least the Civil War and remains
popular in the Celtic nations.
That popularity makes straightforward the demolition of ‘explanations’ in terms of
national character or climate. Malcolm also rejects a ‘sports space’ argument, e.g. that
the USA had room only for baseball or cricket, as reading back from the eventual
number of popular games. Malcolm’s own analysis for the USA takes three sociologi-
cal landscapes – in New York, Philadelphia and Newark – and explains the successful
challenge of baseball in New York in terms of status competition between an Anglo-
American cricketing elite and non-Anglo-American elites. Where English origin elites
are less exclusive or English migrant non-elite groups are involved, diffusion is more
likely. In the Celtic cases Malcom focuses on why, for reasons related to different
connections with England, cricket has not been portrayed as the ‘national’ game or
re-labelled as ‘British’.
Chs. 5 and 7 explore ‘success’ in Caribbean colonies and Caribbean and South
Asian diasporas in England. Diffusion proceeds from higher to lower groups. These
subordinate groups – whether identified in class and/or ethnic terms – are regarded as
non-English. Consequently their ‘un-English’ ways of playing cricket reinforces tra-
ditional associations between Englishness and a particular ethos of cricket. This
theme of ‘English’ and ‘other’ is pursued in the last chapters. Malcolm finally con-
siders recent displays of exuberance, gamesmanship, cult of personality by both
English players and spectators that undermine traditional images and norms, such as
making a hero of Andrew Flintoff and a virtual mascot of the ‘Barmy Army’ – a
group of supporters who ironically present themselves as raucous, drunk and

© The author(s) 2013. Nations and Nationalism © ASEN/John Wiley & Sons Ltd 2013
Book Reviews 173

abusive. Malcolm suggests this is a form of ‘benign Englishness’ as opposed to a

‘malign’ Englishness that variously condemns ‘hooliganism’, bans musical instru-
ments from grounds, casts doubt upon the commitment of non-white players selected
for England or questions the loyalty of citizens who support a national team other
than England.
I do wonder how dominant or static has been the traditional imagery, long before
taking a malign defensive form. The account is necessarily selective, focusing upon
media representations of high-profile professional cricket. The amateur game is more
varied and one would think each practice evolves distinctive habits and norms. Why
most do not explicitly challenge traditional discourse is a complex question. Some,
linked to nationalist projects as in the West Indies and Australia, do mount such a
challenge. I wonder also if this does not already modify if not undermine the traditional
associations. Arguably this happened with the crystallisation of a coherent discourse
during the bodyline series of 1932–33 in which class, colonial identity and national
myths (e.g. relating to Gallipoli) figured. Did not elements of that discourse infiltrate
England, such as the questioning of class deference and the cult of the amateur,
exemplified by making Leonard Hutton (non-elite, professional, Yorkshireman)
England captain shortly after the war?
The book raises many other questions. How do different economic structures and
conjunctures affect the game and its dominant norms? Did heroic English figures before
Flintoff, such as W.G. Grace, Dennis Compton and Ian Botham not call into question
elements of the traditional ethos? Isn’t codification of rules as much to do with the
establishment of national and international competitions in which strangers have to
agree in advance on playing the ‘same’ game as it is do with restricting violence? But
that one can raise such questions is testimony to the stimulating and significant argu-
ments of this ambitious study and the sense that Malcolm’s particular form of socio-
logical analysis can provide answers.

JOHN BREUILLY
London School of Economics

Caspar Hirschi, The Origins of Nationalism. An Alternative History from Ancient Rome
to Early Modern Germany. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012, xiv + 241pp.
£–16.99 (pbk), £–60.00 (hbk).

In this disarmingly short book, Caspar Hirschi puts forward an ambitious project on
the origins of nationalism. The project aspires to be revisionist, and it is bound to
become one of the points of reference in the Protean debate on the character of
nationalism. The author’s main target are modernist theories of nationalism, which he
subjects to an insightful critique, pointing to the limits of constructivism as an
approach of historical understanding and to the ‘myopia’ that very often leads mod-
ernists to overstate their case as it happens for instance in some arguments concerning
the ‘invention of tradition’. The author’s historical criticism of modernism is convinc-
ing, although he too occasionally overstates his case. This applies to his criticism of
Ernest Gellner’s theory of nationalism, whose central thesis on the connection of
nationalism with industrialisation may rightly be considered historically misconceived
but whose broader contribution to a critical understanding of nationalism should not
be underestimated.

© The author(s) 2013. Nations and Nationalism © ASEN/John Wiley & Sons Ltd 2013
174 Book Reviews

The author’s main thesis is relatively straightforward although presented in a

rather complex way. According to him nationalism is not a product of modernity but
of the re-elaboration by Renaissance humanism of certain ancient themes of classical
Roman political thought. It would have been more precise if instead of nationalism
the term ‘nationalist thought’ was used in this connection and elsewhere in the book,
since what the author is talking about are elite intellectual phenomena and not a mass
movement. The mainspring of these ideas is found in Cicero’s construction of the
model of the ideal patriot. In Cicero’s political thought patriotism is the active expres-
sion of the civic virtue of the citizen as devotion to the fatherland. The author is
careful not to call these civic sentiments that mark the political culture of the classical
Roman respublica nationalism but treats them as the distant conceptual and moral
source of future conceptualisations elaborated in early modern Europe. To take us to
the point which, in his judgment, signals the dawn of nationalist thinking, the author
guides us on a long journey through the history of Medieval and Renaissance Europe.
Drawing on his extensive expertise in the subject, he delineates his argument by dis-
cussing a number of subjects that proved to be of critical importance for the emer-
gence of national discourse and national awareness in the late Medieval and early
modern periods. Thus the reader is offered interesting and illuminating discussions of
‘nationes’ in medieval universities, the politicisation of ‘nationes’ at the Council of
Constance in the years 1414 to 1418, and their antagonism over their respective
honour, precedence and prestige. Other factors that contributed to the articulation of
the concept of the nation as a political and cultural entity of primary significance for
the identity of emerging modern European societies included legal scholarship and
reflection on language. In fact the author’s discussion of ‘tongue as political space’ is
particularly suggestive and illuminating.
The main argument of the book is that the origins of nationalism can be traced in all
these cultural developments observable in late medieval Europe. In turn early forms of
elite nationalism, it is further suggested with considerable force, are already to be found
in the Renaissance. To substantiate this thesis the author looks at Renaissance Italy
and the antagonism between Italian and French intellectuals over the respective worth
of their languages and literary traditions. The main focus, however, is on Germany and
on the contribution of German humanism in the articulation of a strong sense of
nationhood and national honour of the German nation. The main thrust – and schol-
arly contribution – of the book comes in the discussion of these subjects. Hirschi
considers with deep knowledge and subtlety three important subjects that proved
decisive in the articulation of nationalist thought in early modern Germany: humanism,
the adoption of nationality as a principle of election of the emperor of the Holy Roman
Empire of the German nation and the impact of the Reformation. The textual testi-
monials from German humanists discussed by the author provide ample evidence in
support of his thesis. On this basis it seems reasonable to concur with his suggestion
that the evidence of humanist ‘nationalism’ makes German nationalism in the age of
Romanticism appear of limited originality (pp. 116–118).
The argument concerning the connection between humanism and nationalism as the
cornerstone of the thesis of the book invites some questions. First the treatment of Italian
humanist thought should have been more broadly based in order to establish on a firmer
foundation the book’s central conceptual claim. It is indeed true that civic humanism
became the main conduit of the transmission of Ciceronian ideas of republicanism and
civic virtue into the political thought of early modernity. But was this a form of
nationalism? Is it legitimate to call Coluccio Salutati and Leonardo Bruni nationalists?

© The author(s) 2013. Nations and Nationalism © ASEN/John Wiley & Sons Ltd 2013
Book Reviews 175

Could they be seen as Italian nationalists or just as Florentine patriots? And would it
make historical sense to put the nationalist label on them? Mutatis mutandis this doubt
also applies to the German humanists discussed by the author and poses the fundamental
methodological question as to how far we can extend the usage of the terms nationalism
and nationalist without risking anachronistic applications and judgments. Furthermore
one cannot but notice a paradoxical silence: why is Machiavelli absent from this
argument? His appeals for the unity of Italy and her liberation from the ‘barbarians’,
which conclude two of his major works, call for interpretation in light of the argument on
the connection between humanism and nationalism. Consideration of these issues might
have clarified the conceptual claims of the book.
Secondly the book’s central claims could be established on a firmer and less paro-
chial foundation through a consideration of the intellectual experience of the Eastern
half of Europe, especially of the evidence pertaining to the evolution of political
thought in late Byzantium. At about the same time as the Council of Constance, the
Byzantine neo-Platonist George Gemistos Pletho was elaborating novel ideas concern-
ing the salvation of the crumbling Eastern Roman Empire, whereby he was visualising
its transformation into an ethnic Hellenic polity. Consequently he could be reasonably
considered an exponent of some version of early Greek ‘nationalism’ or
‘protonationalism’, as it has been called, within an East European humanist tradition.
Pletho was not alone in this but he belonged to an entire Greek-speaking tradition
dating back to the thirteenth century, which could have provided important parallels to
the evidence from German humanism discussed in the book. Equally significant was the
continuing appeal of Roman ideas in late Byzantine culture, which suggests that the
Eastern Roman empire possessed an equal claim to the legacy of Roman legitimacy and
therefore an equal claim on the attention of modern scholarship concerned with the
multiple forms of the inheritance of Rome.
The above observations are put forward as pointers to the fertility of the approach
employed by Caspar Hirschi in making his revisionist claim on the origins of nationalist
thought. Occasionally one cannot escape the impression that he tends to claim some-
what too much for the novelty of his thesis. The case for the medieval origins of
national definition has been made in an impressive scholarly study a number of years
ago by Colette Baune in examining the ‘genesis of the French nation’. The connection
between humanism and nationalism in turn has been repeatedly drawn in studies of
Machiavelli. Yet Hirschi’s work has important merits that should be taken very seri-
ously into account by scholars of nationalism. First it shows in a most convincing way
how much can be gained by a serious intellectual history approach to the study of
nationalism. It is precisely this seriousness in the analysis and interpretation of ideas
that is often lacking in the writings of sociologists or international relations specialists
(to say nothing of anthropologists) when writing on nationalism. Secondly it reminds
all of us in this field of research of the significance of German scholarship on the
subject, which those writing in English tend all too often to ignore. Hirschi’s work is a
reminder of a broader world of scholarship that can be ignored only at the peril of
knowledge and understanding. Finally its revisionism vis-à-vis modernist constructiv-
ism, although debatable in many respects, is an important invitation to self-reflection
and self-criticism that might involve serious reappraisals, for which we should be
grateful.

PASCHALIS M. KITROMILIDES
University of Athens

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176 Book Reviews

Constantin Iordachi and Dorin Dobrincu (eds.), Transforming Peasants, Property and
Power. The Collectivization of Agriculture in Romania, 1949–1962. Budapest: Central
European University Press, 2009, 530pp. £45.00 (hbk).

This volume edited by Constantin Iordachi and Dorin Dobrincu focuses on the collec-
tivisation policies in Romania goes beyond a purely descriptive overview of the Social-
ist Romanian Collectivization process. The interdisciplinary research presented in this
publication (English version of a Romanian research, published by Polirom editions in
2005) traces a basic aspect of Communist regime instauration in Romania and illus-
trates the consequences on the property relations in the transition period, after the fall
of Causescu’s dictatorship. Mechanisms imposed on the peasantry and against the
peasant resistance to collectivisation are examined by several well-coordinated contri-
butions, as a result of more than a decade of research. The volume turns out to be the
product of a complex teamwork: initiated by Gail Kligman and Katherine Verdery, the
published material has been collected thanks to the work researchers of several disci-
plines (history, sociology, anthropology etc.), from Romania and from the Anglo-
Saxon environment. Through primary sources, either archival files or oral testimonies,
the volume shows the role of the Socialist collectivisation in the daily life of the
Romanian populations.
Evaluating the perspective of social and cultural consequences and duration (more
than a decade), forced collectivisation, in countries with a dominant agricultural
economy, was more important in the formation of East-European Socialist societies
than the forced transformation in industry.
The book is articulated in three parts, plus annexes and maps. The first part
provides general aspects of the agriculture’s collectivisation in Romania and its con-
sequences for land property in the Romanian legal system. Robert Levy approaches
the central and local policy in the first period (1949–53), when Eastern Europe fell
under Stalin’s influence for forced Sovietisation. Marius Oprea deepens the period
from 1953 to 1962, identifying different stages: a first period of ‘stagnation’ (1953–
55); a second period of ‘relaxation’ in the campaign mobilisation and also of inten-
sification in the political repression (following the Hungarian revolution: 1956–57); a
last one beginning with the successful experiment implemented in Galati (1958–62).
The juridical and propaganda’s elements are described by Linda Miller, who exam-
ined the legal status exchanges regarding the lands (from the individual to the col-
lective and ‘Socialist’ property).
The second part is dedicated to case studies concerning the relations between Bucha-
rest and the country’s periphery in the collectivisation process. Constantin Iordachi
shows the case study of Constanta, ‘the First Collectivized Region’ due to its position
closer to the Soviet border. Case studies with interesting references to the local popu-
lation composed by different ethnicities are from the following regions: Banat,
Maramures, Transylvania. Smaranda Vultur exposes the total collectivisation process
in a village called Tomnatic, Triebswetter in German, near Arad (with German
Swabian and Hungarian minorities). Gail Kligman examines the Ieud case (Baia Mare
neighbouring), with only partial collectivisation results. Virgil Tarau analyses the suc-
cessful collectivisation policies in the Cluj region, particularly in the following case
studies: the village of Magina (district of Aiud, Romanian and Orthodox majority,
originally small property owners) and Rimetea (district of Turda, Hungarian and
Unitarian majority, with a local economy not only agricultural profiled). This interest-
ing comparative approach successfully shows the local results of the collectivisation

© The author(s) 2013. Nations and Nationalism © ASEN/John Wiley & Sons Ltd 2013
Book Reviews 177

policies, in spite of different ethnic composition of the various villages. The case of
Sándor Oláh is about the Hungarian-dominated district of Odorhei (Székelyudvarhely
in Hungarian) and the agricultural policies strongly enabled by the Hungarian local
élites. Michael Stewart and Razvan Stan describe the unsuccessful policies, failed
because of the strong resistance to the collectivisation processes in the shepherding
village of Poiana, close to Sibiu. The last contribution of this part is written by Dorin
Dobrincu, about the late (and eventually complete) collectivisation in the Darabani
village (Suceava region), inhabited by Romanians and Jews communities.
Part three approaches the transformations of social relations during the collectivi-
sation period, in different regions of Romania. Several authors analyse the peasantry
transformation and the life in the collective farm: Katherine Verdery in the Hunedoara
region; Daniel Latea in the Craiova region; Julianna Bodo in the Hungarian Autono-
mous Region; Calin Goina in the Arad region; Liviu Chelcea in the Bucharest region;
Catalin Augustin Stoica in the Galati region. Complex and detailed conclusions are
provided by Constantin Iordachi and Katherine Verdery on the collectivisation policies
in Eastern Europe (imposed by the Soviet model) and their consequences in Romania,
articulated by a comparative and interdisciplinary methodology.
Theoretically, the collectivisation processes interested the ownership and its concep-
tual perspective and effect (as State institution, cultural system and social relations
setting). Practically, the research has also to cover, as main themes, the transformations
of property and persons, the making-process of the party-State, comparing and inte-
grating archival documents and oral witnesses. Generally, the main historiography on
this subject results dominated by a hierarchical view: industrialisation (and urbanisa-
tion) as a first tool of the sovietisation processes, agricultural collectivisation as a
secondary step. In this book focused on an agricultural country (as Romania, with 3⁄4
of population employed in this field), this hierarchy is inverted: agricultural develop-
ments under collectivisation are the most important processes in the Eastern European
countries under the Soviet hegemony.
The book is a scientific study, oriented to a wider non-scholarly readership in the
subject. Well assembled, wisely coordinated, this kind of research may establish a
milestone in the study of agricultural collectivisation processes.

ANDREA CARTENY
Sapienza University of Rome

Zafer Toprak, Darwin’den Dersim‘e Cumhuriyet ve Antropoloji. (English Republic and

Anthropology from Darwin to Dersim) Istanbul: Doğan Kitap, 2012, 615pp. TL32.00
(pbk).

In his comprehensive study, distinguished Turkish historian Toprak sheds light on ‘the
intellectual Atatürk’ and on the ‘Scientific’ and ‘Cultural Revolution’ he conducted in
the 1930s (11). Republic and Anthropology from Darwin to Dersim is one of the many
books that aims at demystifying, demythologising and putting Atatürk in its right
historical place who, as the leader of the Turkish War of Independence (1919–22) and
the founding father of the Turkish Republic, has always been not only an object of
scientific and public interest but also subject to ahistorical idealisations and public
worship. Toprak emphasises political and scientific debates and developments in

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178 Book Reviews

Europe that were a source of inspiration for Atatürk. Since this book is a collection of
articles written at various times and published in journals, it is not surprising that it
lacks of a clear structure as it is common for monographs and entails redundancies as
well as iterations that are sometimes confusing and time-consuming. Nonetheless, its
wide range of topics including anthropology, Darwinism, Turkish History and Sun
Language Thesis, linguistics, esotery, archaeology and social engineering that attracted
Atatürk’s interest makes this book worth of a careful reading.
Why Atatürk was interested in such topics and encouraged social scientists to
conduct craniometrical surveys in Turkey in which the skulls of 64.000 people were
measured? Atatürk aimed at creating a culturally and linguistically homogeneous
society with a Turkish identity, at Westernisation and secularisation. Especially after
the Sheikh Said rebellion (1925), cultural differences were perceived as a risk for the
unity of the republic. This explains also why sociology, once being the mainstream
social science after the Second Constitutional Era (1908–11), lost ground in the late
1920s. In contrast to sociology and cultural anthropology, which would emphasise
cultural and ethnic differences and therefore contradict the process of nation building,
physic anthropology was more compatible with Turkish nationalism. Craniometrical
surveys carried out in the 1930s produced the ‘insight’ that seventy-five per cent of the
Anatolian habitants were brachycephalic and only five per cent of them were Mongol-
oid (119). This result implied a common descent of all Anatolian habitants and backed
the Turkish History Thesis that emphasised the ancient migration from Central Asia to
Anatolia and suggested that these migrants were the descendants of Anatolian Turks.
This view is highly speculative but it nevertheless implies that Turks, Kurds or even
Armenians have the same origin and that Turks, compared to Armenians and Greeks,
have a longer presence in Anatolia. Turkish physical anthropology based on the
‘brachycephalic’ thesis and therefore contradicted the ‘Nazi’ anthropology which was
magnifying the dolichocephalic Aryan race, and it aimed at legitimising the Turkish
present in Anatolia which was questioned by some chauvinistic circles in Europe (13).
However, it was also aiming at assimilating the Kurdish population into a core Turkish
culture and identity. Therefore, it seems surprising when Toprak only emphasises the
‘defensive’ and ‘inclusive’ characters and loses sight of exclusionary outcomes of the
‘anthropological race problem’ (15).
However, Toprak’s focus may be legitimate since efforts of constructing historical
and linguistic theories about the origin of Turks, although highly problematic from
a Universalist perspective, had also progressive results. The Turkish History Thesis
gave way for a new historical approach that was evolutionist, secular and relying on
anthropological and archaeological findings and liberated the pre- and proto-history
from the sacred (204). At the heart of the Turkish Language Revolution (1932),
aiming at simplification and purification of Turkish language from Arabic and
Persian words and at raising the literacy among Turks, was the Sun Language
Theory, a nationalist pseudoscientific linguistic hypothesis developed in the 1930s. It
proposed that all human languages are descendants of one proto-Turkic primordial
language and, due to close phonemic resemblances to Turkish, all other languages
can essentially be traced back to Turkic roots. Atatürk supported this ‘theory’ (470).
Toprak concludes his book with a chapter about social engineering in Dersim, a
region in Eastern Turkey populated by Alevi and Zaza people. According to Toprak,
the main aim of the applied repressive measures in Dersim was shifting the loyalty of
the people from their tribe leader to the state and to establish order. Although
Toprak does not present a fully novel interpretation and may seem in his judgement

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Book Reviews 179

affirmative, his focus is devoid of revolutionary romanticism and idealisation of

Dersim that are still common in Turkey.
Toprak’s book constitutes a valuable addition to the literature on Atatürk and
Turkish modernity. He offers not only novel interpretations, but also rehabilitates
some classical standpoints that have been subject to criticism. More problematic is that
he does not engage systematically with the relevant literature and divergent interpre-
tations. The study will not remain the last word in a long enduring debate about the
modern Turkish history, but its insights, discussed materials, interpretations and per-
spectives deserve careful attention.

YASAR AYDIN
Universität Hamburg

Sikita Banerjee, Muscular Nationalism: Gender, Violence and Empire in India and
Ireland, 1914–2004. New York: New York University Press, 2012, 209pp. £34.00 (hbk).

As colonial entities, Ireland and India shared surprising similarities. Inhabitants of

both countries were subject to broadly analogous imperialistic moralising tendencies;
to forms of scrutiny that sought to physiologically differentiate colonisers from the
colonised; and, of central importance to this study, comparable forms of political
resistance underpinned by powerful gendered considerations. The nineteenth- and
twentieth-century Imperial eye cast Bengalis as weak and Celts as ape-like. In response,
Irish and Indian nationalists strove to demonstrate their physical strength and prowess.
In her comparative study, Banerjee defines this bodily orientated resistance as ‘muscu-
lar nationalism’, a gendered-infused concept that allowed those opposed to imperial
rule to display their masculine strength, their capacity to fight and their ability to
manage their own country.
The British gaze was hardly complementary, as Banerjee outlines in her fascinating
opening chapter where the reader learns of Indian men being routinely portrayed as
effeminate and Irish men derogatively likened to brutish, irrational apes. In many ways,
these colonial discourses affirmed colonial logic as they added justification to an
Imperial presence in regions where it was not necessarily wanted. Ireland, however,
fitted uneasily onto the imperial landscape, so Banerjee argues. The Irish, after all, were
not too physically or racially dissimilar from their colonising counterparts. Further-
more, Ireland contributed significantly to the British military system; Irish soldiers
being just as racially prejudiced, if not more so, to the Indians whom they encountered
while partaking in military service.
Nonetheless, both India and Ireland witnessed reactions against British tendencies
to denigrate the physique of the colonised expressed through assertive displays of
physicality and masculinity. In late nineteenth-century Ireland, Patrick Pearse, through
his exaltation of Gaelic sports, supported visions of a muscular warrior educated in
Irish history and culture and prepared to sacrifice his life for an Irish republic. Broadly
contemporaneously, Nagrenda Prasad Sarbaadhikari, the father of Bengali football,
saw physical training as a means of producing warrior monks. Having demonstrated
their masculine strength, opponents to colonial rule had further validated their opinion
that British presence was unnecessary.
The key areas of interest in Muscular Nationalism are the complex role of women in
the formation of these political forms, and the intersection of their displays of resistance

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180 Book Reviews

with muscular nationalism. If men were meant to fighting and protecting the nation,
then how were their female counterparts expected to be behaving? In Banerjee’s view,
women served as a safeguard to national communities. They were to be chaste, virtuous
and domestically focused. In the early twentieth century, politicised forms of femininity
deeply disrupted these preferred images. Banerjee demonstrates this in her insightful
comparison of members of Irish republican women’s paramilitary movement Cumann
na mBan to their female Indian militant equivalents. Early twentieth-century Irish
figures including Countess Markievicz and Margaret Skinnnider are likened to their
Indian contemporaries Saraladebi Chaudharani and Preetilata Wededar, individuals,
Banerjee suggests, who traversed and destabilised the boundaries between chaste
woman and martial man by encouraging political unrest.
The second half of Muscular Nationalism moves chronologically forward to late-
twentieth century contexts. In Banerjee’s view, the basic principles of muscular nation-
alism endured and resurfaced in postcolonial Northern Irish and Indian contexts. For
instance, the female staging of dirty protests in Northern Irish prisons in the late 1970s
and early 1980s were commonly viewed as a disruption of female behavioural norms.
These women, Banerjee argues, found themselves exposed to social suspicion while
campaigning for autonomy from British governance. The smearing of urine, excrement
and menstrual blood across prison walls was constructed as a perversion of the chaste,
pure mother figure. In India, Naxalite women were subject to similar levels of suspicion
on the basis of dominant ideas about appropriate gendered behaviour. Banerjee con-
cludes by exploring concepts of femininity in the Roop Kanwar Immolation and the
2004 Irish Citizenship Referendum.
Muscular Nationalism is an ambitious, insightful work that offers comparative
insight into the construction of gendered roles in Irish and Indian campaigns against
Empire since the mid-nineteenth century. Banerjee’s arguments are confidently pre-
sented. Undeterred by exploring a remarkably extensive timeframe and assessing two
discrete geographical regions, Banerjee has produced a powerful monograph that
complicates how we understand past incidences of militancy, as well as the nuanced
interactions between colonial and postcolonial India and Ireland. One wonders, at
times, if her arguments would have been bolstered by analysing less familiar historical
actors. Certainly, Irish readers would tend to be more than familiar with the ideas of
individuals such as Patrick Pearse and Countess Markievicz. Nonetheless, as a theo-
retical framework, the concept of ‘muscular nationalism’ is original, as is the manner by
which Bannerjee concentrates on the interactions between contrasting gendered roles,
as opposed to exploring masculinity or femininity alone.

IAN MILLER
University College Dublin

Joey Power, Political Culture and Nationalism in Malawi: Building Kwacha. Rochester:
University of Rochester Press, 2010, X + 332pp. £55.00 (hbk).

At a time of heightened tension and instability in Malawi’s politics, this book appears
to provide a retrospective account of the deep logic of Malawi’s political culture as it
emerged in the colonial and immediate postcolonial periods. Drawing on rich archival
sources and oral testimonies, Power provides a well-researched and detailed account of

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Book Reviews 181

Malawi’s politics, and how institutions and actors functioned within this political
culture. At the heart of Power’s analysis is the notion of ‘political culture’ that captures
‘the way power relationships are negotiated in a particular setting’ (p. 6). The book is
organised into ten chapters that broadly fall into three categories. The first part and
opening section of the book deals with the inception of colonial rule in 1915, and how
the Chilembwe Uprising served as a watershed in the manner in which it connects the
late precolonial period to proper colonial rule, ‘indirect rule’ or ‘decentralized despot-
ism’ as Mamdani would have it (Mamdani, Citizen and Subject: Contemporary Africa
and the Legacy of Late Colonialism, 1996: 37–179). Covering a range of issues from the
nature of colonial politics, indirect rule system, colonial trusteeship, advent of political
organisations, to the direct and open confrontations between the politics of ethnicity
against one of race, the second part delves into the period from the Chilembwe Uprising
(1915) to the imposition of federation (1953). The third basically captures post-1953
events and up to the attainment of political independence in July 1964. Here, Power
captures a whole range of issues that she refers to as ‘Banda-Boosting’ (p. 7), therefore,
setting the stage for the perpetuation of a political culture that was to last for the better
part of three decades.
Power’s approach latches onto new opportunities that emerged for research and
researchers in the wake of Banda’s exit to provide a scathing exposure of a political
culture that penetrated all levels of society in the late colonial, early postcolonial
periods and even till contemporary times in Malawi, and with the attendant manipu-
lation of history, pageantry and violence, symbol and savagery, persecution and reward
that accompanied it. Power is, however, resolutely sceptical of prior historical narra-
tives, and implicit in her work is a deep sense of historical reconstruction, and an
unusual attempt to address the void in the country’s history, fill the missing pages of the
nation’s history and bring to bear a sense of balance in what has hitherto been a
‘half-backed’ story. To a large extent, the author accomplished the goals of this study.
In a pioneering analysis, Power deploys a rich blend of ethnographic and archival
materials, primary and rare sources, oral interviews and rumours, as well as conjectural
references to give the study an original and rich insight into the core of Malawian
politics.
Nevertheless, given the richness of the data collected for this study and the fact that
the car accident is the singular most important event on which the metaphor of political
violence hangs on, one would have expected Power to put to rest rumours concerning
the death of Dunduzu Chisiza, the most intellectually astute Malawian politician killed
in a car crash on the Blantyre-Zomba road in September 1962 (chapter nine). Worst
still, are references to, and idioms of witchcraft that permeates Power’s analysis of
Malawi’s political culture. This, in a sense, amounts to a ‘local/culturalist’ reading of
African politics and society in a manner that gives primacy to ritual murders and
witchcraft, and renders African societies as theatres of the absurd or one characterised
by ‘abracadabra’.
By way of suggestion, Power’s analysis of Malawian political culture may have had
more explanatory and descriptive salience if it was properly grounded in the broader
context of the British colonial enterprise. In so doing, attention would have been drawn
to fact that the impact of colonialism was not just limited to the imposition of colonial
structures of indirect rule, but that colonialism also provided the terrain for hegemonic
contestations between the ‘colonizing elite’ and the ‘colonized elite’; secondly, it would
have also become clear that the historical association of the colonial and postcolonial
state with the Malawian people led to a string of ‘divide and rule’ policies that proved

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182 Book Reviews

to be devastating to the cause of national unity in the years to come; and finally, it
would have demonstrated that the experiences of colonialism in Africa contributed to
the emergence of a unique historical configuration in modern postcolonial Africa, or
what Ekeh refers to as the ‘unique nature of African politics’ (Ekeh, Colonialism and
the Two Publics in Africa: A Theoretical Statement, 1975: 93). This, however, does not
take away anything from Power’s work, which is well researched and of exceptional
quality. Judging from its pricing and packaging, the book is well suited for university
libraries, but as an attempt to ‘complete’ what is generally regarded as an ‘incomplete’
Malawian history, this book should be recommended and made available to every
Malawian.

GODWIN ONUOHA
Human Sciences Research Council

Joseba Agirreazkuenaga, The Making of the Basque Question: Experiencing Self-

Government, 1793–1877. Reno: Center for Basque Studies, University of Nevada, 2011,
312pp. $19.00 (pbk).

Is it possible to merge two quite distinct approaches like ethnosymbolism and institu-
tionalism? The former draws on the persistence of ancestral myths of ethnic origins
conveyed through the recurrent use of symbols, narratives and discourses, while the
latter socio-political approach focuses on the power of institutions in moulding popular
perceptions, including political identities. The two seem to be hardly compatible. Yet,
Joseba Agirreazkuenaga’s book on the origins of the ‘Basque question’ compellingly
succeeds in establishing a relationship between the two. He underlines the long-term
effect of political and juridical institutions on the perception of a sense of Basque
nationhood, not only among the elites, but also among most of the workers, the
peasants and ordinary people. He shows how the General Assemblies, or local parlia-
mentary institutions, of Araba, Bizkaia and Guipuzkoa (as well as the fueros of the
Kingdom of Navarre) shaped a political discourse centred on myths of primordial
independence firmly grounded on a robust and intellectually articulated legalistic tra-
dition. The origins of Basque nationalism are normally ascribed to the activity and
organisation of Sabino de Arana y Goiri (1865–1903). Although this is true, Arana
himself was inspired both by the prevailing European Zeitgeist and by a previous
tradition of cultural writings on the ‘Basque question’.
Methodologically, the author starts from the rare advantage of knowing Euskara,
the Basque language, which allows him direct access to archival fonts in that language
spanning a few centuries. This first-rate mastery allows him to delve deeply into
untapped archival and literary resources and extrapolate illuminating liaisons and
connections of the persistence of Basque identity before the age of nationalism.
Chapter 1 prepares the ground with an excursus into the configuration of
prenationalist discourses on the ‘Basque cultural community’, while Chapter 2
focuses on Spain’s and France’s models of state formation and consolidation, invok-
ing a comparative theoretical approach to the process of national state-construction
in Europe (40). Basing his argument on a series of books published around 1818 (like
Juan Antonio Zamacola, Pedro Jose Astarloa and, later, Augustin Chaho), Chapter
3 discusses how the idea of a Basque nation began to emerge before its rediscovery

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Book Reviews 183

and reinterpretation by the nationalists. The following chapters discuss the function-
ing and evolution of Representative Assemblies, notably the Basque political confer-
ences (1775–1936), which the author argues were central in articulating and shaping
a sense of Basque nationhood. Returning to the decisive influence of centralist
institution-making, Chapter 7 tackles the long-term effects of Spain’s and France’s
liberal constitutions, with their legacy of cultural homogenisation and eradication of
cultural and linguistic differences. Chapter 8 focuses on an important discontinuity
point, the First Carlist War (1833–1839), which created opposite common memories
of resistance and oppression, while Chapter 9 discusses the continuities, in spite
of an apparent discontinuity, of local institutions, through 1839 and at the
end of the First Carlist War, threatening the continuity of the fueros and the legality
for self-government. This is a particularly important point as it sets the basis for a
long-lasting nationalist discourse that still perseveres to the present day around
notions like a ‘Basque political constitution’ or a ‘Basque nationality’, a term that
was widely used at least since 1843. Chs. 10 and 11 develop the argument of Basque
constitutionalism exploring further its linkage with the concept of Basque ‘national-
ity’. Chapter 12 explores the festivals and sport events that helped to articulate
Basque nationhood at a political level, always considering the importance of lan-
guage in defining the Basque nation before the emergence of nationalism around
1892. What makes this chapter and much of the book original is the authors’ rare
knowledge of relatively unexploited primary sources, like the bertsolariak, oral poets,
verse improvisers and singers-narrators in the Basque language who conveyed stories
deeply tied to the perception of local identities as well as to broader political
developments.
Chapter 13 brings these findings together by analysing the speeches in the Spanish
parliament over the need to ‘homogenize’ Spain, emulating thus the Franco-German
model then prevalent in Europe. These discussions culminated in the 1876 law abol-
ishing the fueros: The abolition led to a blowback effect in the Basque provinces with
several organisations emerging around a common discourses of self-defence against
state aggression and centralisation. These narratives, speeches and written literature
formed the nucleus of what then emerged as Basque nationalism through the Basque
Nationalist Party, founded by Arana in 1893–95.
The book concludes with a robust epilogue in which concepts like ‘resilience’ and
‘historical legality’ are associated with broader historical developments through a
longue durée perspective that takes into account the homogenising efforts of the state
as well as the new challenges posed by globalisation. This makes the book a key reading
for all students of Basque nationalism, particularly those interested in the prenational
period before Arana. It is also an important work for the study of nationalism in its
early stages and stateless nations in general, and in this respect the book has no rivals
in the English language.
A possible limit with this approach is that it may overlook the pervasive effects of
Spain’s process of nationalisation, at least in the cultural field. The once fashionable
thesis of Spain’s ‘weak nationalization’ has been dismissed by recent historiography, as
a new generation of scholars has challenged these assumptions demonstrating that, not
only Spain’s nation-building has been far-reaching and pervasive, but that it ‘suc-
ceeded’ in destroying many aspects of peripheral culture. However, the book provides
a set of valid arguments for both sides of the story as it points to the destructive impact
of state centralisation, as well as to the ultimate incapacity of the Spanish state to
achieve its homogenising vision.

© The author(s) 2013. Nations and Nationalism © ASEN/John Wiley & Sons Ltd 2013
184 Book Reviews

Agirreazkuenaga bridges masterfully ethnosymbolism and institutionalism, shed-

ding light not just on Basque nationalism, but on nationalism in general. In fact,
although the book largely focuses on the persistence of ancient Basque institutions, it
also considers the legacy of ethnic myths through discourses of group identity articu-
lated around the continuing importance of political institutions. The Basque specialist
will find Agirreazkuenaga’s deep knowledge of the prenationalist discourse and culture
highly useful, while nationalism scholars can learn a wealth of information relating to
the importance of institutions in shaping myths of ethnic descent.

DANIELE CONVERSI
Ikerbasque Foundation and UPV/EHU

Zheng Wang, Never Forget National Humiliation: Historical Memory in Chinese Poli-
tics and Foreign Relations. New York: Columbia University Press, 2012, 293pp. £21.38
(hbk).

Why did the Chinese government escalate some international crises, such as the 1999
US bombing of the Chinese embassy in Belgrade, and not others, like the 1998 attacks
on ethnic Chinese in Indonesia? Why did Chinese youth go from standing in front of
tanks in 1989 to becoming the country’s staunchest patriots defending the 2008
Olympic flame in capital cities around the world? Zheng Wang’s book, Never Forget
National Humiliation, looks at a particular dimension of China’s socio-political culture-
historical memory, to solve a number of puzzles about the country’s international and
domestic politics that the mainstream, realist tradition of International Relations
theory has a hard time explaining. Combining insights from the liberal and construc-
tivist traditions, Wang examines Chinese foreign and domestic policies since Jiang
Zemin’s ‘patriotic turn’ in the 1990s. Employing historical memory as the main
explanatory variable, Wang’s analysis identifies the causal relationship between
China’s official historical narrative, the country’s collective identity construction and
its foreign policy.
The stated aim of the book is to delineate with precision the extent to which
ideational factors bring about conflict behaviours. Wang’s original theoretical frame-
work directly links identity to political outcomes, locating three causal pathways in
which ideational factors influence policy behaviour: as road maps, as focal points and
as institutions. Although this framework heavily draws on insights that most construc-
tivist and Foreign Policy Analysis (FPA) approaches have already incorporated,
namely how cognitive constraints and biases can affect foreign policy-makers, Wang
distinguishes himself by giving pride of place to memory. Examining the impact of
historical memory and identity on cognition allows him to make sense of some other-
wise puzzling instances of Chinese foreign behaviour like the ones mentioned above.
Wang’s analysis of how China chooses to remember its past has great relevance for
the present. It sheds light on topical questions about the political implications of
national historiography, and the role that history education plays in a country’s domes-
tic and foreign relations. Wang offers a map of the meanderings of Chinese historical
memory, illustrating the Chinese Communist Party’s ideological evolution from com-
munism to nationalism over the course of the last three decades. This transformation is
set against a broader background of the change in China’s self-image during its mille-
nary history.

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Book Reviews 185

The book details China’s Patriotic Education Campaign since the early 1990s and
through to its latest developments in the twenty-first century, focusing on the content
and objectives of the history curriculum. Wang sees historical memory both as a trigger
of the country’s nationalistic education and as its product, placing it at the heart of
China’s search for identity as a nation-state. His approach to the study of nationalism
has both advantages and disadvantages. On the positive side, Wang accounts for
several of the dimensions of Chinese nationalism and avoids the classic top-down
bottom-up dichotomy, by describing it not only instrumentally as a state-led ideology
or political technique but also as a sentiment pervading civil society and originating
from shared memories. Regrettably, the discussion occasionally suffers from a rather
muddled understanding of the main terms used in nationalism studies. This severely
undermines Wang’s attempt to redefine Chinese nationalism in the last chapter. None-
theless, overall the discussion remains pertinent, empirically accurate and illuminating.
The book benefits from research in primary sources ranging from educational texts
and official documents to cultural and popular material, introducing new material to
the English-speaking academic debate. Cases are cogently argued and empirically
substantiated. An instance of this is the discussion of the change in the description of
well-known historical figures reflecting an official change in historical perspectives:
General Zuo Zongtang of the Qing dynasty went from being a peasant-suppressing
devil in the old textbooks to being a foreign-defeating hero in the new ones.
Never Forget National Humiliation appeals to a broad readership, ranging from
scholars and students of international relations, nationalism and history, to policy-
makers and anyone interested in the internal workings of China’s worldview. Acces-
sible to non-specialists thanks to its clarity, Wang’s book does at the same time provide
a rigorous contribution to the theoretical debate about the role of national identity in
shaping political outcomes.
Finally, the book takes on an advocacy position in the controversial debate of
textbook writing in East Asia. Describing China’s ‘deep culture’ of national humilia-
tion as articulated in a narrative of chosen myths and traumas, Wang’s book explores
the genesis of a self-victimising historical narrative. Far from endorsing it, the book
promotes changes in the intellectual discourse on history so that the power of collective
memory can foster reconciliation and understanding between China and other coun-
tries, especially Japan and the US, rather than conflict. This element of idealism rests on
Wang’s solid background in conflict resolution, which lends credence to the book’s
proposed ways to deflate the nationalistic animosities currently destabilising China, its
region and the world.

ANNA COSTA
University of Hong Kong

Santiago De Pablo, José Luis De La Granja, Ludger Mees and Jesús Casquete (eds.)
Diccionario Ilustrado de Símbolos del Nacionalismo Vasco (Illustrated Dictionary of
Nationalist Basque Symbols) Madrid: Editorial Tecnos, 2012, 899pp. (with illustra-
tions). €60.00 (pbk).

This doorstopper of a book, consisting of 900 pages including numerous reproductions

of photos, logos and posters, is a true academic milestone. The dictionary takes its lead

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186 Book Reviews

from previous attempts by Pierre Nora in France and Hagen Schulze and Reinhart
Koselleck in Germany. The editors also draw on other relevant social science discus-
sions, such as the one on the meanings of political symbols and how they relate to the
various manifestations of nationalism. The editors refer, amongst others, to the work
of Geertz, Gellner, Smith, McCrone, Billig, and Hobsbawm and Ranger.
Symbols fulfil many functions. One crucial function is that they help to mediate or
negotiate between history and collective memory. The latter is a phenomenon that is
mainly studied by social scientists. It involves the analysis of social constellations,
which encourage such memories. Furthermore, social scientists attempt to understand
the subjective-collective meaning that actors give to past and present actions. In con-
trast, history aims at a representation of the past that attempts to be truthful to the
historical event and its context. The two tasks are not easily reconciled and the historian
who wants to do both has to tread very carefully.
The great achievement of the book under review is that it succeeds in combining
these two difficult tasks. The editors obviously exercised tight control and worked only
with a limited, carefully selected group of twelve authors to cover the fifty-three entries.
The contributors are, with the exception of two political scientists, all historians, most
of them from the University of the Basque Country (UPV/EHU). Only two contribu-
tors, one from the Sorbonne, Paris, and one from Santiago, Galicia, stem from outside
the Basque Country and Navarra. What could be seen as limiting in terms of the lack
of an outside perspective is made up by the comprehensive and international outlook of
the contributors. Without exception they manage to combine their specific knowledge
of Basque history, its politics and cultural context with an awareness of international
discussions and contexts − a combination that makes this book such a useful source,
particularly for those who want to know more about a context many have heard about
(particularly its terrorist component) but few non-Basque academics have explored
comprehensively.
Despite its aim of being as comprehensive as possible, the book does not attempt
total coverage. The successful formula consists in having fewer entries. This editorial
decision allows more space for quality articles that are between ten and twenty-five
pages long. The selection of the accompanying illustrations is also aesthetically pleas-
ing; they are always carefully picked to illustrate either the intellectual or, as it often
happens, the ideological context, or to give a good visual representation of a particular
symbol discussed. The editors could have pursued a different route by following a
thematic approach and by organising the entries, as it were, along different themes and
topics – such as ‘historical figures’, ‘cultural dimensions’, ‘historic locations’ and
‘crucial dates’. Of course, the outcome would not have been a dictionary. Considering
the final result that is before us, the editors must be congratulated for not having
followed such a direction. As it stands, the alphabetical format is more user-friendly.
Entries can be read either in alphabetical order, as single entries or in context with other
thematically relevant articles – depending on the use one wants to make of this com-
pilation. The two indices, one of names, the other one analytic, allow for all kinds of
different usages and searches.
As to the individual entries, it is hard to select a particular one amongst the many
excellent contributions. A good start, perhaps as good as any, is the sober-sounding
entry ‘Avenue Marceau 11 (Paris)’. Despite its neutral title the reader of this article
will not be disappointed; the entry illustrates in a nutshell how one particular insti-
tution has come to symbolise the complex history and fate of twentieth century
Basque nationalism. Here is the story in brief: In 1937, this neo-classical building had

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Book Reviews 187

been rented by the Basque newspaper Euzko Deia, the then official voice of the
democratically elected Basque Government. In the autumn of the same year an
American citizen of Basque-Philippine origin bought the property for almost 1 1⁄2
million francs (most of the money stemmed from a collection by Basque American
citizens). In January 1939 it was anticipated that the victory of the Spanish nation-
alists in the Civil War would not only lead to the official acknowledgement of the
insurgents by the French government, but also to a change of ownership in relation
to all foreign property that had previously belonged to the Spanish Republic or to
one of its regional and autonomous governments (as was the case with the Basque
government). Accordingly the house was transferred for a price of 1,600,000 francs to
a group that had formed as a legal body under French law and that consisted of a
group of concerned British and French entrepreneurs who previously had provided
supplies during the siege of Bilbao. The newly formed society invited the Interna-
tional League of Friends of the Basque Country, or LIAB (for its French acronym),
a humanitarian organisation whose main purpose was to help Basque refugees in
France, to make full use of the building. That undertaking came to an end with
German occupation. Almost with immediate effect the Nazis handed the property
over to their Francoist friends, which in turn handed it over to the foreign repre-
sentative of the Falange and its paper El Hogar Español. All property such as the
furniture and documents was seized and the Basque flag, which used to fly from the
main balcony, was replaced by the Nazi swastika and Falange flags. In 1943 this
expropriation was made legal by transferring all property to the Spanish state. Things
changed again when in 1944 a French platoon, which also included numerous
Basques fighting with the Allies, retook possession of the building. To mark the
victory over Hitler-Germany and its Falange friends, the new occupiers displayed
again the ikurriña, the Basque flag, from its front facade.
However, although the LIAB and the Basque government in exile re-occupied the
building, its legal status remained unclear, despite various attempts to address the
question of who held the property rights. The context was, of course, that the political
tide had changed again. By the early 1950s the Franco regime and Spain had become
useful allies in the Cold War, which led to new demands by the now officially acknowl-
edged Spanish government, such as the return of all international property. In June
1951 the French government gave in to the pressure and forced the Basque Govern-
ment in Exile and its main representative, José Antonio Aguirre, to leave the building.
This was a heavy blow to both the Government in Exile and the humanitarian activity
with which it had been associated. For many, no. 11 Avenue Marceau had become a
symbol of liberty, which continued to challenge the dubious legitimacy of the Franco
dictatorship. But not only had the Basques and their representation been betrayed by
the Western Allies, the handover also marked a significant shift in terms of rejecting the
idea of a federalist Europe, which had found great support in Aguirre and the Basque
Government. (In fact, the PNV had been one of the founding members of the European
Christian Democratic movement; indeed, Aguirre should be counted as one of the
founding fathers of modern post WWII Europe).
Over the last fifteen years and until the present, various attempts have been made to
reclaim ownership of the building – foremost by the Basque Nationalist Party (PNV).
However, none of the last three Spanish governments has shown any wish to hand back
the property to its original owners. Currently, the building is property of the Spanish
Government and houses the Instituto Cervantes. At a time when every major building
in a European city is proud of having a plaque outside that hints at its historic

© The author(s) 2013. Nations and Nationalism © ASEN/John Wiley & Sons Ltd 2013
188 Book Reviews

significance, there is none at no. 11 Avenue Marceau that would enlighten visitors and
passers-by about its peculiar symbolic value.
The history of no. 11 Avenue Morceau is indeed an allegory of what twentieth
century modern history had in store for a small European nation without a state.
The entry, like any other in this dictionary, invites the reader to explore this
history further. He or she might want to know more about José Antonio Aguirre
(1904–1960), who gave the PNV a modern Christian Democratic outlook that
led it away from some of the more dubious ideas of its fin de siècle founder, Sabino
Arana. Ludger Mees, one of the editors of the dictionary, describes the amazing
career of this lawyer and former Athletic Bilbao player, from being mayor of
Getxo (now greater Bilbao) to becoming the first democratically elected lehendakari
of the Basque Country, representing the only overwhelmingly Catholic region that
supported the Spanish republic. Mees tries to make sense of the life of this charis-
matic, but in the end tragic, leader. We partake in the odyssey that led Aguirre into
French exile and from there, via underground Berlin, to New York and finally back
again to Paris. Perhaps it is impossible to think of a more timely and symbolic cross-
ing of paths and purposes than the crucial summer months of 1959, when Aguirre
and his government in exile had not only been dropped by the former Allies, but
also had news of a statement from a new radical group called ETA (Euskadi ‘ta
Askatasuna, Basque Country and Freedom), which promised to pursue a more
radical path than the one the PNV had in mind. Reading about Aguirre and his
government, the reader is invited to look further by consulting the biographies of
those who accompanied Aguirre on his political journey, be it Manuel Irujo, the
charismatic Navarrese politician, or Telesforo Monzon, one of the historic leaders
who followed him into exile and who would later become one of those nationalist
leaders who would break with the moderate PNV to join Herri Batasuna (People’s
Unity), the radical political formation which maintained close links with
ETA.
Alternative readings might include the entries for some of those cultural institutions
and organisations, which are mostly of Aranist origin but which have, over the course
of the twentieth and twenty-first century, been modified to fit the new cultural and
political circumstances either at home (for protest and resistance purposes) or abroad
(for solidarity purposes, and to rally the Basque diaspora). The entries for the Day of
the Homeland (Aberri Eguna) or the Day of the Party (Alderdi Eguna) explore some of
those cultural symbols and meanings. Those interested in questions of gender might
want to consult the entry ‘Emakume’, which gives an excellent account of the Basque
women’s organisation. Other entries explore the reasons for establishing a modern
Basque school system (the ikastolak) and why the project of normalising the Basque
language, Euskara, is such an important undertaking for establishing a more civic-
minded Basque society. We also find in this dictionary entries that help us to under-
stand crucial symbolic events that stem from a more distant past, be it the Carlist Wars,
the fueros, the crucial battles at Roncesvalles in 778 (in which Charlemagne suffered a
defeat by what were supposed to have been Basque forces) or Amaiur in 1522 (Amaiur
is a small town in the Baztan valley where Basque and Navarrese forces fought a last
heroic battle against Castile; it is also the name of a new left-wing nationalist coalition).
Those readers who are interested in heraldry, flags and song can turn to the entries for
Arrano Beltza (the dark eagle) or the various hymns ranging from Agur Jaunak (Good
bye, Gentlemen) to Eusko Gudariak (Song of the Basque soldiers). Finally, those
interested in the larger context will not be disappointed by the entries for ‘Europe’,

© The author(s) 2013. Nations and Nationalism © ASEN/John Wiley & Sons Ltd 2013
Book Reviews 189

‘Ireland’ and ‘Spain’, or for ‘Galeuzca’, the attempt to rally the historic non-Castilian
nations of Spain. (The word stands for Galicia, Euzkadi, Catalunya, a somewhat futile
political attempt to rally the cultural nationalist troops.)
What separates this dictionary from other publications that deal with Basque
history and culture is the specific attention that is given to the meaning and function
of symbols. All of the symbols selected for this dictionary are carefully analysed and
interpreted, including their changing reception and context. If and when historical
proof is not available, or conflicting interpretations arise, the reader is usually told of
possible alternative readings. One or two authors sometimes have a tendency to be
too critical towards the material at hand, and occasionally some passion shines
through, for example, when a paragraph or remark reads like a barely hidden anti-
nationalist commentary. But these are rare exceptions; overall, a polemical style is
avoided.
Some of the entries will stimulate more debate than others; for example Santiago
de Pablo’s interpretation of the Lauburu or Núñez Seixas’ entry on ‘Ireland’. While
the former suggests some convergence between the swastika and the Basque symbols
such as the Lauburu, the historical reasons given for this assumed link are weak (the
swastika has clearly Indian roots and origins while the same cannot be said about the
Lauburu, which is Iberian in origin and unlikely to have been the result of some
migration or cultural contact). As to Seixas’ ‘Ireland’ entry, even the text itself shows
that the links between Ireland and the Basque Country were, at least politically
speaking, an extremely one-sided affair. I doubt whether, apart perhaps from Patrick
Pearse and a handful of Irish nationalists, anybody in the Irish Republic was really
concerned about the Basque Country and its culture and politics. The numbers, espe-
cially those of militant Irish Catholic background who fought on the insurgents’ side,
far exceeded the number of those who fought on the side of the Spanish Republic; in
any case, very few of those who defended the Republic helped to defend Bilbao by
fighting with the Basque gudariak. Today it is only the remnants of Batasuna and its
supporters and the northern branch of Sinn Féin and those interested in securing
their political career by joining the international peace industry (for example, dis-
carded corrupt Irish politicians like Bertie Ahern) who claim special connections
between Ireland and the Basque Country. A closer look would have shown that it is
more appropriate to speak of cultural misunderstandings than of close social, politi-
cal or cultural links.
Despite its comprehensiveness, there are also some omissions in the dictionary.
Some symbols, such as food and modern music, are never explored in greater detail.
For example, one of the most important songs, Mikel Laboa’s Txoria txori, is not
mentioned once, despite having become a symbol and the unofficial hymn, sung at
many occasions. Religion is handled often in a subdued manner, almost to a point of
neglect. Maybe this is due to the successful secularisation of academic life in the Basque
Country. However, Basque Catholicism and the various aspects of political religion
(otherwise often referred to, just not in the religious context) deserve more than the two
entries that deal with the Jesuit founders. Finally, and this concerns perhaps more the
introduction than individual entries, a self-critical reflection about the true ‘national’
academic discipline would have been helpful. In the Basque Country surely that label
does not apply to history but to social anthropology, represented by scholars such as
Aranzadi, Barandiaran, Caro Baroja and institutions like Eusko Ikaskuntza (the
Basque Studies Institute). This omission is even stranger since most of these social
anthropologists have spent their entire life deciphering the meaning of symbols. But

© The author(s) 2013. Nations and Nationalism © ASEN/John Wiley & Sons Ltd 2013
190 Book Reviews

independent of such omissions, Símbolos is a truly groundbreaking collection. It is

aesthetically appealing, too. The compilation can indeed serve as a prototype for
similar projects, which intend to study the symbols and symbolism of other nations and
nationalisms.

ANDREAS HESS
University College Dublin

© The author(s) 2013. Nations and Nationalism © ASEN/John Wiley & Sons Ltd 2013