Scratch the surface on many of today’s contentious topics and you’ll find the clash between nationalism and globalism at the heart.
While some people worry that the concept of national sovereignty and control is being eroded, others see such a development as a feature rather than a bug.
To the nationalist, preserving national identity and autonomy is a prime virtue. To the globalist, it’s overrated.
Take, for instance, the question of border security.
Donald Trump and his supporters – nationalists by any reasonable definition – hold the view that a country without defined and protected borders isn’t really a country. So America’s chronically porous southern boundary is a matter of enormous, even visceral, concern to them.
Those favouring Brexit – Britain’s exit from the European Union (EU) – have a similar perspective. Since membership in the EU hobbles Britain’s ability to control immigration from other EU states, Brexiters fret about the impacts on accommodation costs, health services, job competition and so forth.
In contrast, globalists tend to be more relaxed about these things. To be sure, not many American liberals explicitly call for open borders or endorse illegal immigration, but neither do they exhibit much enthusiasm for any remedial steps. And if anyone else dares to take on that task, accusations of meanness and xenophobia follow in short order.
In part, the argument is about material issues.
Does the lack of border and immigration control negatively impact the quality of life for at least some of the prior population? And to the extent that it does so, is the price more than counterbalanced by the benefits delivered to the broader society?
But the debate goes further than this. There’s also the matter of cultural heritage.
For globalists, one of large-scale immigration’s positives is its diversifying effect on the host society. Nationalists, on the other hand, worry about a consequent loss of cultural heritage. After all, if diversity is real in anything but the most superficial sense, it will inevitably change the general social environment. And while some see that as enrichment, others experience it as alienating dilution.
The overt ceding of sovereignty is another flashpoint, particularly in the EU.
Nationalists aren’t averse to close international co-operation on matters of mutual interest – trade, security, the environment – but they draw the line at surrendering any powers of self-government. To quote a pro-Brexit Conservative MP, “I don’t want to make the laws which control the Italians, the Spaniards or the Poles, and I don’t want them to make the laws which control me.”
Globalists, however, are often amenable to supranationalism, defined as transferring decision-making authority from the nation-state to global institutions. Indeed, for many, the concept of such global governance represents the highest level of idealistic aspiration.
Meanwhile, and largely by stealth, the EU has already gone a considerable distance in this direction. According to some estimates, 40 to 60 percent of European domestic laws now have their origin at the EU level. Former American diplomat Todd Huizinga puts it tartly: “The average national minister from an EU member state spends overwhelming amounts of time attending EU meetings in Brussels, then transposing EU regulation into national law, and finally enforcing laws and regulations that originated in Brussels.”
And this cleavage between nationalist and globalist perspectives bleeds into all sorts of other areas, citizenship being a subtle example.
In a comprehensive analysis of the recent changes loosening Canadian rules, immigration lawyer Steven Meurrens makes this point: “To some, being a Canadian citizen is a fundamental part of their identity, and to many immigrants becoming a Canadian citizen is a life-changing event. To others, Canadian citizenship is simply the ability to obtain a Canadian passport, which can serve as a quasi-insurance policy to those living abroad should they ever need to leave their countries on short notice and be guaranteed admittance to Canada.”
Most of us, I suspect, don’t think about this subject very often. And when we do, we probably don’t locate ourselves at either end of the continuum.
But whether we think about it or not, the tension between the two perspectives is very real and we’ll have to live with the consequences of how it turns out. So maybe a little forethought wouldn’t be a bad idea.
Pat Murphy casts a history buff’s eye at the goings-on in our world. Never cynical – well perhaps a little bit.
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