For years after World War II scholars wrote about “nationalism” as if it solved problems, intellectual and political. By now its theory and practice have themselves become problems. Here a political scientist examines those problems in the case of Mexico. His thesis is that Mexican nationalism is a distinctive product of xenophobia, “a common race, a common language,” egalitarian social changes (especially during the Revolution), improved communications, and literary and artistic boosting. Though the idea is not novel, the depth and extension of the argument are.
The approach goes against a historian’s grain. In the first place he may doubt that “loyalty to the national community . . . has been one of the most influential forces shaping Mexico’s society, economy, and political system.” Was not much of the shaping the other way around? Or at least was there not a dialectical relation between feelings and the facts of power? A historian likes to know how and why the loyalty grew. He thinks of time as a condition of growth, not as its cause. Here, however, he learns mostly what a political scientist likes to know—what the constituent elements of national loyalty are, and how they function as factors to shift “parameters.”
A historian of Mexico also learns to his embarrassment that the scholarship in his field has misled this intelligent outsider more often than it has set him right. In dismay he sees Turner convey the impressions, debatable at the very least, that “nationalism is most conspicuous by its absence in nineteenth-century Mexico,” that the Revolution was a radical break from the past, that Indians were prominent in the Revolution, that after the Revolution the Mexican people were somehow all of one mind, and that since 1917 progress has been steady and uniform in the country. These hoary though dubious generalizations reappear not because the author has ignored the historiography of Mexico, but because he has swallowed it and suffered indigestion. When he writes his own history, for instance on Mexican abuse of the Chinese population during the Revolution, he does markedly better.
To the historian’s relief, he can find faults in the political science proper. Why assume that conservative Mexicans are not nationalists and liberals are, that one nationalism is bogus and the other genuine? Where is the analysis to prove it? And why assume that improved communications encourage community rather than conflict? Familiarity may breed not only solidarity but also contempt. Worse, why assume without criticism that the modern “Mexican elite is not authoritarian. . .” ? The author did his research in Mexico in 1964, an election year which revealed to him many tricks of Mexican politics, but obscured many others.
In its own terms, however, Turner’s argument remains sound. He convincingly identifies the essential components of Mexican nationalism: the general fear of foreigners, the social, economic, and technical changes of the last two generations, and the intellectuals’ romantic populism. He vividly evokes the quick and contradictory flashes of Mexican pride. He comments wisely on the special character of the Mexican patriot. And he goes into useful detail to trace lo mexicano in novels, textbooks, poetry, drama, oratory, music, painting, cinema, photography, radio, and television. His style is clear, both in perception and in statement. If in explanation he confuses the categories of element, cause, source, and origin, he still presents an extraordinarily lucid description of national loyalty in Mexico. His chapters on “Social Groups and the Revolution” and “Xenophobia and the Revolution” are notably thoughtful and illuminating. His short passage on military technology is a jewel. In a dark and difficult field, this is good exploration.
