RobertJ asked a question on this blog yesterday that goes to the heart of how I believe that we should think about belonging, identity, and the politics of care. He asked whether nationalism is good or bad, or whether it all depends.
That is not an abstract question. In the UK and Ireland, nationalism has been a defining political force for centuries. From conquest and colonialism to Home Rule, devolution, and independence movements, nationalism has shaped who we are, who we think we are, and who we think others are not. In that case, the question deserves serious reflection, and I have given it a lot of thought, most especially as I write for The National, Scotland's only pro-independence newspaper.
First, I do not view nationalism as a negative sentiment because I think its roots lie in care, whether that be for a people, a place, a language, or a culture. So, when Welsh speakers defend their language, or when Scots argue for self-government, or when Irish people remember centuries of suppression and demand dignity, that nationalism is not rooted in hate; it is rooted in love for a community and its identity, and care for its survival. It is about wanting the right to govern one's own life and community. That form of nationalism is inclusive: it does not require an enemy. It is not built on exclusion, but on belonging.
Second, nationalism can also be a response to powerlessness. In that sense, it can be a progressive impulse. When Westminster dismisses Scottish votes or when London drains wealth from English regions, it is unsurprising that people turn to national identity to reclaim agency. Nationalism, then, can become a language of resistance and a way of saying 'we matter too'.
Third, however, nationalism can curdle. When identity turns inward and begins to define itself by who is not included, it becomes toxic. When English nationalism defines “real” English people as white, or when Union Jacks become symbols of exclusion rather than community, nationalism becomes a politics of fear. The flags remain the same, but their meaning changes. The St. George's Cross that decorates a local football ground in celebration of a win by a national team is not the same as the one wielded by a mob chanting about migrants.
So perhaps the question is not whether nationalism is good or bad, but what it is for, and that brings me to what I call the politics of care.
The politics of care, about which I have often written a lot of late, begins with recognising that all people have equal worth, wherever they are born and whoever they are now. Care in this context is inherently relational precisely because it ignores who a person is and affirms their worth, wherever and whatever they might be, or think they are. As such, it will always connect across boundaries. That means nationalism must always be held in tension with something larger, whether that be humanity, decency, or empathy.
A nationalism consistent with a politics of care would:
- defend self-determination but reject superiority;
- protect culture, but refuse exclusion;
- celebrate belonging but resist the myth of purity.
It would see nationhood not as a fortress but as a framework for democracy, solidarity, and mutual care.
In that sense, there is an ethical distinction to be made between what might be described as differing forms of nationalism. The nationalism of the oppressed, who are the colonised, the ignored, and the disrespected, can be emancipatory. The nationalism of the powerful, which is used to dominate or exclude, is reactionary.
That distinction is what allows us to celebrate Plaid Cymru's recent victory in Caerphilly but fear a Reform UK government. The former seeks dignity within diversity; the latter demands obedience through division. The distinction is both real and essential.
That said, the left has often struggled with this. Internationalism, which is the belief in solidarity across borders, was heavily associated with early socialist and social democratic thinking, in particular, and can be made to sound as if it denies the importance of national identity. It can be used to argue that class matters more than any other identity, and that there is a reach beyond borders on that basis, and of course, that can be true: it is entirely possible to have more than one identity, and I have always found it hard to work out why some have so much difficulty with that idea.
Having empathy for others in different communities on the basis of similar social circumstances does not, and should not, however, prevent anyone from appreciating the culture, customs, community, and patterns of communication (often represented by language) closely associated with the place where they come from, live, or have moved to. Holding both these things in mind simultaneously is, I suggest, vital. If we all have material, emotional and intellectual needs which lead us on a quest for meaning in life which may (and might not) lead us to spiritual exploration, then to appreciate both where we are and what matters to others is a sign not of abandoning principles, traditions and differing identities, but of upholding them, whilst reserving the right to criticise if they are abusive of those in any community. A healthy internationalism does, then, depend on self-confident nations that can cooperate, and not on loyalty to a single homogenised global state or ideal.
The same might be said of faith traditions. These might have their own visions, but the challenge is to reconcile those visions with the moral value of belonging somewhere in particular, and respecting that the person of one faith is exploring just as much as the adherent of any other faith, and none might be.
Why does this matter? It does because nationalism is again shaping the political landscape, whether that be in Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland and, perhaps most dangerously, in England. How each form of nationalism expresses itself will tell us a great deal about the kind of political and moral imagination that exists in the UK. The vital thing will be to understand the key point I am making, which is that not all nationalisms are alike. Nationalism can be used to unite or divide, to justify exclusion or to promote justice. It can be used to express love and care or for all in a community, or to induce fear and the ostracisation of some within it. Those approaches could not be more different.
My own answer to whether nationalism is good or bad is that it is good when it is an act of care, and bad when it is an act of domination, whilst it is only necessary when it gives voice to those who might otherwise be ignored. The test of any nationalism should be simple and is does it expand empathy, or does it shrink it? That is the ethical line that separates the politics of care from the politics of hate.
If we remember that, nationalism can be embraced as something of value, whilst being aware that if we forget it, nationalism can destroy us. But perhaps what is most important is to understand that, at its empathetic best, nationalism might help us rediscover who we are together.
This morning's post on the philosophy of John Rawls might be read to contextualise this post.
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[…] Cross-posted from Richard Murphy’s blog […]
Patriots love their country: nationalists hate other people’s.
I saw this some years ago. It is, of course, an over simplification, but there is a truth in it.
We have to care for our own, warts and all as a famous man from East Anglia said. But also for our neighbour who can be anyone on the planet.
I clearly do not agree with that opening comment. It is too generic to be of any use.
as I say there is an element of truth but it is not meant to be a definitive statement.
The toxic form of nationalism has its roots in a psychological process of splitting ( seeing the world in binary terms ) and projecting the bad onto others. Often the target doesn’t matter. It provides an excuse to hate.
Opposing with logic only goes so far. I think there is still work to be done on how we oppose political messages based on those emotions.
Accepted
As a Scottish independence supporter, I can’t agree with your first statement. I am motivated by a desire for the best outcomes for the people of my country, rather than any need to denigrate other nations. I want decisions affecting Scots (all of us who live in Scotland, regardless of original country of origin or ethnicity) to be taken in Scotland, for the benefit of it’s population, and to see a socially just political economy be the guiding principal of a Scottish Republic.
That does not require me to hate English people or England, it just requires me to care for my community and want to see policies enacted that work in favour of Scotland.
Scotland has needs that are not met by the government in Westminster, which will inevitably focus on the needs of England since it has a massively higher population than we do. In order to meet our needs, our decisions must be taken here, and it must be all decisions, not those granted by another parliament. As the saying goes, power devolved is power retained, and as long as the Scottish parliament is subservient to Westminster, its ability to meet the needs to Scots is restricted.
So, nationalism does not necessarily mean hatred of other nations, sometimes it just means I love my community, my nation, more than I do someone else.
Alex I agree. My quote was bandied around some years ago. Loving your country doesn’t mean hating other people. Nationalism doesn’t necessarily mean hate. Scotland seem to have a good record of welcoming others. Wasn’t a deportation stopped by local action in Glasgow?
But when the incomers or others are not welcome and told so, I wouldn’t call it patriotism.
My brother left the navy at the age of 30 and married locally and joined the Police in Edinburgh. He had spent little of his life in England but experienced some discrimination even from colleagues ‘You’re English” followed by a negative comment. That is negative nationalism. We only have to look around the world to see examples of it doing lots of harm.
His observation was that those who held such sentiments had never left Scotland and didn’t know their history. It applies in other places. I see it here in Somerset.
Absolutely agree. The difference is described in academic literature on the subject as civic nationalism and ethnic nationalism. It suits many to refuse to see the difference.
One of your best posts.
Thanks
In basic terms, attitudes, behaviors and concepts, might there be three types of nationalism?
1) Symbiotic Nationalism
2) Parasitic Nationalism
3) Predatory Nationalism
I prefer my descriptions.
I’m glad Robert J asked the question, and I like your answer. It is something that has niggled at me, and I think your ‘what is it for ?’ question and three principles for nationalism as part of the Politics of Care answer this very well.
Thanks
[…] Richard Murphy on developing a fairer and sustainable economy — Read on http://www.taxresearch.org.uk/Blog/2025/10/26/nationalism-good-or-bad/ […]
That was very helpful indeed. A superb piece of writing, not a wasted word, and I love the way you distinguish between good and bad nationalism, and also your treatment of ideologies.
Thank you!
Why are you supportive of people from
Scotland, Wales or Ireland being nationalistic but when it comes to the English it is EDL inspired racism?
Just read what I wrote.
It’s really not hard to work out that Scottish and Welsh nationalism are definitely inclusive and English nationalism is driven by hate. Irishmnationalism has, I accept, got a complicated history.
It is a tragedy that there will be many who want to express an English nationalism of care but who will inevitably be represented by the loudest ie. those favouring Toxic English nationalism, and therefore portrayed as such too. I fear this is a factor in driving the rise of Reform. It might be toxic but it appears to be the only form of nationalism that gives them a voice. I wonder what it would take to break this bind.
But I agree, one of your best posts yet, Richard. Words that need to be read and heard widely.
Thanks.
I lost two hours sleep thinking about how to draft that. Good job the clocks changed. It does not feel so bad.
Richard – I think you nailed it.
‘But perhaps what is most important is to understand that, at its empathetic best, nationalism might help us rediscover who we are together.’
The safest forms of nationalistic expression to me anyway are music and the currency (currency is the most powerful in my opinion). I love this place because of the land, the topography and the people who sound different but familiar everywhere you go even though comparatively it is such a small place. I’ve worked in most of the large cities and never hated any of them; I love the South Downs as much as the Lake District and Glen Etive.
As I have got older I have realised that I like – that I want to be – proud of things? I want to live in great country with great values, that looks after its people and does things right. This has been a journey of disappointment for me over the years, but as you say it is about choices, about using concepts in a positive, constructive way.
Great post.
Thanks. And, I too love this country. I am out in it right now. What I dislike is how many abuse this country.
Agree with a number of other commentators that have described this as one of your best posts. Wholly agree with your comments particularly in the context of John Rawls.
Good(?) nationalism is based on a sense of shared community and fairness. It is about coming together positively to look after the interests of the community.
It mustn’t – as you have clearly indicated – be used to exclude other nationalities, cultures, etc., but to bring everyone together to protect and develop what is vitally important, i.e., social care, social values, addressing poverty, education and opportunity for all, etc.
As a practical example and responding to Jackie Byatt’s observation – whilst it is an imperfect piece of work – the Scottish Government’s ‘National Strategy for Economic Transformation’ does not seek to exclude anyone, exclude other cultures, etc. Rather it focuses on a well-being, fair economy for all whilst principally being a nationalist / independence-focused document. It recognises that Scotland has suffered (as have Wales and Northern Ireland and many English regions) under the successive Westminster- / London- / finance-industry- / neoliberal-supporting governments that supposedly look after the UK as a whole but simply haven’t.
Nationalism doesn’t have to be narrow. It is about being connected to what is perceived as a greater good, something that is based on fundamental human values (back to John Rawls). I felt a real loss when I lost my European passport due to Brexit. For me, I was at once proud to be a European (because I believed in what bringing Europe together stood for) and a Scot (where I was born). Nationalism requires pride and belief in your ‘nationalism’ on a human level but it also requires you to recognise and respect the same in other nationalists and work together to address the common basic human needs such as community, care, security, health and well-being.
Thanks.
As I noted to another comment, I lost sleep thinking about this post, but it seems to have been worth it.
Nationalism in many ways seem to be one of those things that the lower orders are supposed to adhere to, while not applying to their social superiors – for them its just something else to be traded.
An obvious example is that of Nigel Farage, who post-Brexit applied (unsuccessfully) for German citizenship. Another is Stanley Johnson, father of Boris, who took out French citizenship post-Brexit.
And of course there’s Rupert Murdoch, the well known Austrailian press magnate – except he hasn’t been an Austrailian since 1985, when he became American.
Many years ago, I read Peter Ackroyd’s ‘Albion’. The thing that stuck in my mind, was his assertion that for ‘Albion’, simply being here was enough to qualify a person as being ‘one of us’.
That no longer holds true, if indeed it ever did.