American conservatism is a dynamic movement that has shifted its ideological emphases over the last several decades. In the aftermath of the September 11th attacks on the United States, neoconservatism was briefly ascendant. After the financial crisis of 2008–2009, a quasi-libertarian Tea Party that emphasized free markets and government restraint came to the fore. The rise of Donald Trump marked another ideological shift, this time toward nationalism — a fuzzy concept that includes national greatness, toughness, support for entitlement programs, and greater skepticism of interactions with foreigners through trade and immigration. President Trump used the term in 2018 to summarize his own ideology: “[Y]ou know, they have a word, it sort of became old-fashioned. It’s called a nationalist.…You know what I am? I’m a nationalist. OK? I’m a nationalist.…Use that word. Use that word.”
Trump’s policy positions and rhetorical style differed from those of others on the political right, prompting some conservative intellectuals to attempt to construct a coherent ideology around their new figurehead’s pronouncements. Intellectuals may be much less important to the conservative movement than they have been in years past, but they crave an ideologically consistent model of the world in which to place Trump — the apparent leader of modern American conservatism.
Previous strains of conservatism were bounded to a degree by their three-legged ideological stool of traditional religious morality, American interventionist leadership in world affairs, and free-market economics. Trump broke that stool and replaced it with nationalism — or, at least, that’s what conservative intellectuals like Yoram Hazony, Rich Lowry, and a coterie of national conservatives (NatCons) have tried to fill the gap with.
Trump, Hazony, and Lowry insist on using the word “nationalism” to describe their ideology, with the latter two spilling much ink trying to distinguish it from patriotism. But what does “nationalism” mean?
The meaning of nationalism has been the topic of much debate on the right in recent years, but it is necessary to discuss again here because American defenders of nationalism, as well as others from the Anglosphere, have done a poor job of defining their core ideology for an American audience.
Hazony writes that a nation is “a number of tribes with a common language or religion, and a past history of acting as a body for the common defense and other large-scale enterprises.” “[T]he world [is] governed best,” he adds, “when nations are able to chart their own independent course, cultivating their own traditions and pursuing their own interests without interference.” Curiously, he also argues that nations that conquer others are not real nationalist entities. Yet virtually every major power that exists today has an extensive history of conquest. Indeed, under Hazony’s definition, most states in the West — including most European countries that developed rapidly during the 19th and 20th centuries — are not “real” nation-states.
Lowry, meanwhile, defines nationalism as love of one’s culture, language, history, institutions, holidays, and everything good in a nation. Under this definition, nationalism does not imply dislike of foreigners, but is instead an ideological love for one’s fellow citizens based on shared cultural characteristics. Yet Lowry’s definition renders nationalism indistinguishable from patriotism — a word that’s supposed to mean something else, according to nationalists themselves.
One of the great failures of these and other definitions of nationalism is that they are purely theoretical, and bear almost no relationship to how nationalism actually exists. Nationalists in the real world know what they’ve signed up for; intellectuals who argue otherwise are fooling themselves. Real-world nationalism is a primitive, statist, protectionist, anti-capitalist, xenophobic, and often ethnocentric proto-ideology of “my tribe best, your tribe bad,” with the tribe lying at the core. Indeed, the Latin root of the word “nationalism” — natio — means “a race of people,” or “tribe.” This is how nationalism is understood in Europe and the rest of the world, and why most Americans recoil from it, preferring instead to think of nationalism as a form of “super patriotism” or assume that the terms “nation” and “country” are synonyms.
At root, nationalism is an ideology of group rights that denigrates individualism in favor of an abstraction called “the nation.” Its foundational principle is that government exists primarily to protect the culture and interests of the nation, or its dominant group. This implies that government can use its authority to protect the national culture against potential dangers — including other domestic groups and the potential spread of their cultures. To promote the dominant group, government must have the power to act assertively on its behalf, which necessarily means constraining others.
Hazony recognizes as much, noting that his theory of nationalism requires that within each state, there be “a majority nation whose dominance is plain and unquestioned, and against which resistance appears to be futile.” He does not seem to be averse to the use of coercion to maintain cultural dominance within a nation.
Lowry is less explicit on this point. But his definition, too, logically entails coercive enforcement of a common culture. If civil society or markets begin to erode or transform the common culture he claims lies at the heart of the nation, the government would have to either preserve that culture’s dominance by force or accept the dilution or disappearance of what Lowry views as the nation’s essence.
Nationalists often define a nation in terms of what it’s not. That frame naturally applies to immigrants, who hail from foreign countries and are therefore not part of the nation. But it also readily applies to nationalists’ fellow citizens. Nationalists in the United States routinely single out groups that are not “real” Americans: Claremont Institute senior fellow Glenn Ellmers, to take just one example, has written that the 81 million Americans who voted for Joe Biden in 2020 are “not Americans in any meaningful sense of the term.”
But who are the real Americans in a country as diverse as the United States?
The obvious starting point is those who support nationalism. Policy disagreements hinging on such support often devolve into battles between authentic and “inauthentic” Americans who are seeking to undermine the nation. When confronted with a nationalist-endorsed political loyalty test, those of us who fail are disloyal not just to a political program, but to the nation itself.
As a practical matter, it’s difficult to enforce cultural nationalism without extensive ethnic discrimination, or disparate enforcement that will justifiably be perceived as ethnically motivated (at least in a society with a substantial degree of ethnic or racial diversity). In theory, government could discriminate based on culture rather than race or ethnicity. But doing so would require it to develop standards to determine what qualifies as “authentic” American culture — an undertaking that cannot be done accurately or objectively. No federal bureaucracy is likely to be up to the task.
History bears out the connection between nationalism and identity-based discrimination. Governments that have sought to preserve a single dominant culture have routinely discriminated against ethnic minority groups. In its worst — and far from uncommon — manifestations, nationalism has led to massive oppression, and even genocide. The historical examples are legion and well known. Today, nationalist governments in Russia, China, and elsewhere are continuing that gruesome tradition by oppressing minority groups (as with the Uyghurs in China) and waging wars of conquest justified by the theory that their group is the true owner of the land in question (as with Russia’s brutal invasion of Ukraine).
Similar, though fortunately less extreme, oppression has occurred in the United States when Americans have attempted to adopt European nationalist ideas. During the 19th century, American nationalism led to such measures as the racially motivated Chinese Exclusion Act, which barred most Chinese migration to the United States in large part out of nativist fears that the Chinese posed a threat to American culture. The same concerns led many state and local governments to discriminate against Asian immigrants in a variety of ways. Later, the 1924 Immigration Act barred most immigrants from southern and eastern Europe, largely due to fears that they would undermine American values and somehow harm white, native-born citizens.
Nationalism’s implication of identity-based discrimination has reemerged among some conservative nationalists today. The popularity of the “great replacement” theory (the notion that nefarious elites are using non-white immigrants to “replace” native-born Americans) on much of the right is the most blatant example. But even more intellectually respectable and academically credentialed conservatives, such as University of Pennsylvania law professor Amy Wax, openly advocate racial discrimination in immigration policy, for fear that immigrants (Asians are the particular object of Wax’s concerns) will detract from American values and vote for the wrong political party.
One of the lessons of history is that it is difficult to constrain nationalist passions once they have been kindled. Conservatives rightly point out the danger of stoking group antagonisms when it comes to left-wing identity politics. But their own embrace of nationalism carries similar risks. In fact, stoking the nationalist passions of the majority group in a democratic society creates a more potent threat than minority-group identity politics. The majority generally has more political power than minorities, and therefore it can cause greater harm by abusing that power. If the conservative movement continues to embrace nationalism, we may well see far worse consequences than those that have already occurred.