Mission 2026: Binge reviewing all previous Reads, I was too slothful to review back when I read them.
Reading Steven Grosby’s 'Nationalism' was an exercise in intellectual compression. Few books attempt so much in so little space without collapsing into slogans. Grosby’s succeeds not by simplifying nationalism into a single theory, but by refusing to reduce it at all. Instead, he presents nationalism as a persistent, adaptable, and deeply human phenomenon — neither a modern aberration nor a purely ideological invention.
What struck me immediately was the book’s calm refusal to moralise. Grosby does not begin by condemning nationalism as dangerous, nor by celebrating it as emancipatory. He begins with definition. Nationalism, for him, is an attachment to a territorially bounded community understood as continuous through time — a community that claims both political and moral significance. This definition is modest, but it carries enormous explanatory weight.
Unlike many treatments of nationalism that frame it as a purely modern product of capitalism, print culture, or colonialism, Grosby insists on its deeper historical roots. He does not deny modern transformations, but he challenges the idea that nations emerged from nothing in the eighteenth century. Instead, he traces forms of collective territorial identity back to ancient Israel, Greece, Rome, and mediaeval Europe.
This is one of the book’s most provocative moves. Grosby’s argument unsettles the dominant academic consensus shaped by figures like Benedict Anderson and Ernest Gellner. Where Anderson emphasises imagined communities enabled by modern media, Grosby emphasises continuity — the human tendency to bind identity to land, memory, and ancestry. Nations may be imagined, but they are not arbitrary.
Reading this in 2024, amid resurgent nationalisms across the globe, Grosby’s refusal to treat nationalism as a temporary pathology felt bracing. He does not excuse its excesses, but he refuses to treat it as an illusion that education or globalisation will simply dissolve. Nationalism persists because it answers real human needs: belonging, continuity, and meaning.
The book’s strength lies in its balance. Grosby acknowledges nationalism’s capacity for violence, exclusion, and myth-making, but he also recognises its role in political solidarity and social cohesion. Nationalism is not reducible to xenophobia or aggression. It can support welfare states, democratic participation, and resistance to imperial domination. Its moral valence depends on context, not essence.
What I appreciated most was Grosby’s attention to symbols. Flags, anthems, monuments, sacred landscapes — these are not trivial ornaments but mechanisms through which national identity is experienced emotionally. Grosby understands nationalism not just as an ideology, but as a lived attachment. This emphasis distinguishes his work from more abstract political theories.
The book also engages religion in a way many nationalism studies avoid. Grosby shows how religious traditions often provide the symbolic language through which nations imagine their continuity. This does not mean nationalism is religion, but it often borrows religion’s structures: sacred history, chosen people, promised land. Reading this alongside works on myth and political theology sharpened its resonance.
One of the book’s most valuable contributions is its insistence that nationalism is not synonymous with the nation-state. National identity can exist without sovereignty, and sovereignty can exist without strong national feeling. This distinction matters deeply in contemporary debates about secession, federalism, and supranational governance. Grosby resists the temptation to collapse complex realities into neat alignments.
Stylistically, the book is dense but disciplined. Grosby writes like a scholar who respects the reader’s intelligence. There are no rhetorical shortcuts. Arguments are carefully constructed, evidence is selectively deployed, and counterpositions are treated seriously. For a book in the 'Very Short Introduction' series, it demands more attention than the label suggests.
That density, however, may deter casual readers. This is not an introductory book in the sense of being easy. It assumes patience and a willingness to engage with abstract distinctions. But the payoff is clarity rather than comfort.
The book also complicated my reading of post-liberalism and international relations. If nationalism is not going away, then political projects that assume its decline are built on sand. Grosby quietly undermines cosmopolitan optimism without endorsing nationalist triumphalism. His realism is intellectual rather than ideological.
What the book does not do — and this is both a strength and a limitation — is offer policy prescriptions. Grosby describes nationalism; he does not manage it. Readers looking for guidance on how to tame or deploy nationalism will not find it here. But that restraint feels appropriate. Understanding must precede strategy.
There are moments where I wished Grosby had engaged more directly with colonial and postcolonial nationalisms. While he acknowledges them, the book’s examples lean heavily toward Europe and the ancient world. Given the explosive role of nationalism in Asia, Africa, and the Middle East, this imbalance is noticeable. Still, within its limited scope, the book remains coherent.
What lingered after reading was a sense of nationalism as tragedy rather than error. It binds people together and pushes them apart. It gives meaning and justifies cruelty. It is capable of dignity and disaster. Grosby does not try to resolve this contradiction; he insists we live with it honestly.
In the context of my latest reading, 'Nationalism: A Very Short Introduction' functioned as a conceptual anchor. It clarified debates that often feel overheated and moralised. By slowing the discussion down and grounding it historically, Grosby restores seriousness to a topic frequently reduced to slogans.
The book also challenged my own assumptions. It is tempting to treat nationalism as something other people have — something irrational, provincial, or regressive. Grosby forces recognition that nationalism is not an external threat but a recurring feature of human political life. To deny it is not enlightenment; it is evasion.
What ultimately distinguishes Grosby’s book is its refusal of comfort. It does not reassure the reader that nationalism will fade, nor does it promise that it can be purified. It insists instead on understanding nationalism as a durable form of human association — one that must be reckoned with, not wished away.
In a year of reading dominated by collapse narratives and moral indictments, Grosby’s sober clarity felt almost radical. He does not shout. He does not simplify. He explains.
And sometimes, in a world addicted to outrage and certainty, explanation is the most subversive act of all.
Recommended.