White and non-white evangelicals: do their politics differ?

Evangelicals are usually spoken as a group that supports political and social conservatism. They are identified as a religious group that votes as a block and as it is close to 20-30% of the population, its views become very important during the US elections. However, while almost all evangelicals are socially conservative, research shows that, politically, evangelicals have diverse opinions and positions. Then, why it seems that evangelicals vote as a block for the Republican Party. There are three reasons:

• About two-thirds of the evangelicals are non-Hispanic white;
• White non-Hispanic Americans, including white non-Hispanic evangelicals, are more likely to vote than African-Americans or Hispanics;
• Many conservatives, who are not evangelicals according to most religious/doctrinal definitions, identify themselves as evangelicals.  

Add these three factors and it would be easier to see why more than 80% evangelicals regularly vote for the Republican Party even when the party leadership has regularly supported racist and anti-immigrant policies. President Trump's nomination, election, and continued popularity among evangelicals show that the political choices of evangelical voters (who are mostly white) are informed as much by race as they are by religion. 

A previous blog post discusses in detail the debate over how to define an evangelical and whether self-identification (which is the way most political polls identify evangelicals) is the right way to identify evangelicals, so we will not explore these issues here (for those who want to read about it: Who are evangelical Christians?). 

Here are two articles that explain the link of evangelism, race and voting behavior. 

The FiveThirtyEight article How Trump And Race Are Splitting Evangelicals? contends that race and President Trump are dividing evangelicals or exacerbating their differences:

 America’s community of self-described evangelicals, about a fourth of the population, is increasingly divided between a more conservative, Trump-aligned bloc deeply worried about losing the so-called culture wars; and a bloc that is more liberal on issues like immigration, conscious of the need to appeal to nonwhite Christians and wary of the president. The split in evangelical Christianity isn’t new, but it appears to be widening under Trump. 

Two factors appear to be driving this divide. First, the number of white evangelicals is in decline in America at the same time that the evangelical population is becoming more racially diverse. According to 2016 data from the Public Religion Research Institute, about 64 percent of evangelicals are non-Hispanic white, compared to about 68 percent in 2006... 

And these nonwhite evangelicals see politics differently than white evangelicals. While the largest plurality of white evangelicals identify as Republicans, most black evangelicals are Democrats. A plurality of evangelical Latinos, in contrast, identify as political independents — and they’re less supportive of the Democratic Party than Latinos overall — but they are still more likely to consider themselves Democrats than Republicans.

Source: How Trump And Race Are Splitting Evangelicals? 

The second factor driving this divide among evangelicals is Trump himself. His governing style is, in effect, forcing evangelical leaders to choose between embracing the white evangelicals who overwhelmingly support the president or distancing themselves from the president — and even politics generally — as part of an appeal to their diversifying congregations.

The Religion & Politics essay We Are All Evangelicals Now blames a "sense of “racial embattlement," the belief that one's group faces more discrimination than any other group in the US, for the voting pattern of evangelicals, who are mostly white. The author, Janelle Wong, argues that evangelicals are not outliers and their views are close to those of white Americans as white Americans also feel being discriminated against. The only difference is intensity, "Evangelicals embody U.S. racial attitudes on steroids." Wong concludes the essay by focusing on narratives of white persecution: 

The bottom line is that the racial divides and racial anxieties we see in evangelical America are not so different from the views of white Americans more generally. I speculate that these attitudes are more extreme than those of other white Americans because their fears of demographic change are even more exaggerated than other whites. A narrative of religious persecution runs deep in white evangelical theological circles. Believers expect to be attacked for their religious commitments. Hence, their defenses may be easily raised by “the War on Christmas.” Narratives of persecution have primed them to expect a broad cultural assault, despite the fact that white Christians face the least religious persecution of any religious group in the United States. These fears of religious persecution, unfounded or not, interact in an especially potent way with fears of racial embattlement to produce the political conservatism detailed above. That being said, the racial patterns we observe among evangelicals are more intense, but consistent with the racial patterns that define the country as a whole. In this respect, we all share something very deep with evangelicals.

American (Christian) Churches and Racism

The last blog post focused on whether religion is part of white nationalism. This blog post furthers the debate on how white racism was supported by the Christian churches in the US. It is very difficult to separate white racism (or for that matter white nationalism) from Christianity in the US. Protestant Christianity was part of American nationalism. White Anglo-Saxon Protestants or WASPs controlled the state and were the leaders of the society. And they were not ready to accept Blacks or Jews or even Catholics or Mormons as American. The national identity was defined by the WASPs and they drew the boundaries around them.

Jemar Tisby's new book, The Color of Compromise: The Truth about the American Church’s Complicity in Racism, narrates the history of complicity of American churches in racism:

The Color of Compromise takes readers on a historical journey: from America’s early colonial days through slavery and the Civil War, covering the tragedy of Jim Crow laws and the victories of the Civil Rights era, to today’s Black Lives Matter movement. Author Jemar Tisby reveals the obvious—and the far more subtle—ways the American church has compromised what the Bible teaches about human dignity and equality. 

 Tisby uncovers the roots of sustained injustice in the American church, highlighting the cultural and institutional tables that need to be turned in order to bring about real and lasting progress between black and white people. Through a story-driven survey of American Christianity’s racial past, he exposes the concrete and chilling ways people of faith have actively worked against racial justice, as well as the deafening silence of the white evangelical majority. Tisby shows that while there has been progress in fighting racism, historically the majority of the American church has failed to speak out against this evil. This ongoing complicity is a stain upon the church, and sadly, it continues today. 

Tisby does more than diagnose the problem, however. He charts a path forward with intriguing ideas that further the conversation as he challenges us to reverse these patterns and systems of complicity with bold, courageous, and immediate action. The Color of Compromise provides an accurate diagnosis for a racially divided American church and suggests creative ways to foster a more equitable and inclusive environment among God’s people.

Religion and Politics did an interview with Mr. Tisby. Some excerpts of the interview are given below (Full interview can be read here): 

R&P: As the subtitle states, your book is a sweeping survey of the American church’s complicity in racism. To your mind, what constitutes complicity?
Jemar Tisby: The book opens with the story of four girls who died when the 16th Street Baptist Church was bombed in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1963. Shortly after that event, a white lawyer named Charles Morgan Jr. got up in front of an all-white business club and gave an address in which he asked who was responsible for throwing that bomb. In answer to his own question, he said, “We all did it.” 

He went on to explain that every time that the white community—especially Christians—failed to confront racism in its everyday, mundane forms, they created a context of compromise that allowed for an extreme act of racial terror like planting dynamite at a church. That’s the idea of complicity. It’s not that every Christian was a foaming-at-the-mouth racist hurling racial slurs and burning crosses on peoples’ lawns. It’s that when they had the opportunity to intervene in everyday ways, they chose complicity over confrontation, and this enabled a larger atmosphere of racial compromise.

R&P: Though some American Christians were enthusiastically racist and others were anti-racist, most just accepted racist institutions. To what extent are we free to judge that, and to what extent do we have to accept them as products of their time?
JT: I think some would argue that most of those who I am identifying as complicit in racism were merely men and women of their time. But I would respond that the abolitionists and civil rights activists and others who struggled for black freedom were also men and women of their time. So it’s not as though Christians—particularly white Christians—didn’t know there were alternatives. It’s that they must have had some investment in maintaining the status quo, or that they had some fear of what other people would say or what they would risk if they stood up for racial equality. 

R&P: Was the situation in the South markedly different from that in the North?
JT: A lot of people like to point a finger at the South and say, “Those are the real racists.” The implication is that there is no comparable problem in the Midwest or the West coast or the Northeast. But the reality is much more complicated than that. 

I purposely included a chapter in the book on Christian complicity in the North, and by North I mean anywhere outside of the South. There are examples from various geographic regions. The bottom line is that bigotry knows no boundaries. It’s not that racism stopped at the Mason-Dixon line. The thing that makes the South stand out is that this was the physical site where race-based chattel slavery occurred. It’s the place where the plantations were located. But the entire country was implicated because the agricultural production in the South fueled industrial production in the North and other parts of the United States. 

Later, when the country played host to race riots—and here I mean white race riots—these occurred in urban areas outside of the South, like Chicago, St. Louis, Los Angeles, and others in the Northeast as well. So there was no region that was free from complicity and no region that was free from racism. 

R&P: As the nation moved from slavery to Jim Crow to redlining and mass incarceration, did the church response reveal any sort of moral trajectory? Did it get noticeably better or worse over time?
JT: Martin Luther King Jr. once said that, when it came to issues of justice, the church was often the taillight rather than the headlight in society. By that, he meant that the church often followed along after changes in the racial status quo were already taking place in different arenas, from politics to entertainment to corporations, and that’s what we often see throughout U.S. history. Though many Christians were actively engaged in struggles for racial equality, they tended to be in the minority. The majority of white Christians, at least, did change, but only as the national sentiment was already moving toward more openness and more equality. The change was slow and a little reluctant. 

Consider G.T. Gillespie, for example. In 1954, the year of the Brown v. Board of Education ruling, Gillespie was president emeritus of Belhaven College, and he gave an address called “A Christian View on Segregation,” in which he justified racial segregation, he said, based on the Bible. It’s just one example of many white evangelical Christians fighting against the political changes that would promote racial integration. 

It was only after Brown v. Board that many Christians capitulated to what was already the law of the land. But there was a disappointing scarcity of Christians who were promoting racial integration or celebrating the end of Jim Crow.

Is White nationalism Christian or religious?

Three articles debating whether white nationalism is Christian? Murali Balaji's articles support the contention while John W. Morehead's article negates it.

Source: The way of improvement

Behind New Zealand Terror Attack Is a Problem Bigger Than Islamophobia

Mar 18, 2019, 3:21pm Murali Balaji

Even as advocates point to growing Islamophobia as the cause of the attack, the larger issue seems to be white Christian nationalism.

As a white terrorist from Australia emptied clips of his M16 into the Al Noor and Linwood mosques in New Zealand, killing 49 innocent worshippers, his manifesto revealed the depths and scope to which Christian nationalism has entrenched itself into white majority countries.  

Even as advocates point to growing Islamophobia as the cause of the attack, the larger issue seems to be a reactionary—and almost theological—white Christian nationalism that has taken hold over the past decade. And it can’t just be whitewashed away with the “economic displacement” trope.

Indeed, white Christian terrorists like Anders Breivik in Norway, Dylann Roof in South Carolina, and now Brenton Tarrant, are self-styled (and self-described) soldiers in a fight against greater threats: secularism and pluralism.

While white Christian nationalism has its roots in the United States during Reconstruction, it grew in the 1960s as the evangelical movement attracted new congregants fearful of racial and gender equality activism. Over time, these congregants conflated their racial resentment with religiosity, and viewed the idea of a secular country—and a pluralistic one—as tantamount to their extinction.

This Christian nationalism found its way to other parts of the globe, and weren’t necessarily tied to evangelical movements. The resentment-bred, reactionary politics of the National Front in France and far-right movements across Europe were tied to insecurities about what it meant to be a citizen of a particular country. Breivik weaponized that sentiment in 2011 with his terror attack, and Roof cited similar sentiments after slaughtering congregants of an African American Church in 2015.

We are distracted by incidents of mass murder and terror, and assume white Christian nationalism is a series of one-offs, rather than an increasingly pandemic problem across white majority nations in demographic transition. It’s growing in our own backyards, too, and not just because of Trumpism and social media.

To blame Trump, Facebook posts, and rambling manifestos for carnage overlooks our failure to confront the grievances fueling white Christian nationalism. Assuming secular values and pluralism will win out in the end does nothing to prevent the ideological violence of Christian nationalism from spreading. Just as Wahhabism spread as a grievance-based movement against ostensibly secular Pan-Arab dictatorships in the 1960s before morphing into a powerful global threat, white Christian nationalism is a tinderbox.

We have to have the tools to snuff the fire before it lights.

White Christian Nationalism May Not Be Religious, But It Is Christian

Mar 21, 2019, 4:26pm Murali Balaji

White Christian nationalism’s foot soldiers don’t necessarily connect their racial resentment with their devotion to the Bible, yet they're often trying to retake what they presume to be lost: white and Christian dominance. 

After my recent post on the terror attack in New Zealand, several Christians reached out to Religion Dispatches and directly to me asking why I conflated white terrorism with Christian nationalism.

They eloquently noted that the shooter (whose name I shall not use) did not use Christian theology, but espoused anti-Muslim and anti-immigrant views that seemed disconnected from religion. But in making that argument, they might be missing a larger point: white Christian nationalism isn’t religious (or even grounded in religious scripture), but its adherents nearly always frame their grievances in terms of endangered white Christian societies.

Following Charlottesville, I wrote that white nationalism does have theological roots, with evangelicals like Bob Jones standing firmly in the way of civil rights. In modern iterations, white nationalism and Christian fundamentalism have converged with folks like Tony Perkins, Steve King (who is at it again), and David Duke.

But for the most part, white Christian nationalism’s foot soldiers don’t necessarily connect their racial resentment with their devotion to the Bible. Many aren’t religious, and in fact that’s generally beside the point. Instead, their resentment towards Others (generally non-white and non-Christian populations) is built up over time, largely through online portals that function as echo chambers for the blend of history, conspiracy theory, and racism that produces and sustains white Christian nationalism.

And we should note that it’s really a resentment movement that wears religion like a hood ornament or team colors. In such a definition, these nationalists are trying to retake what they presume to be lost: white and Christian dominance. 

In a larger context, none of the nationalist and exclusivist movements—Jewish nationalism in Israel; Islamism in parts of Africa, the Middle East, South and Southeast Asia; Hindu nationalism in parts of India; Buddhist nationalism in Sri Lanka, Myanmar and Thailand—that have grown in recent years are grounded in theology. They’re all connected by a shared sense of grievance and an imagined community based on assumed shared ideals.

The New Zealand terrorist might not have been religious per se, but he was 100 percent devoted to the divine providence of white (Christian) nationhood.

Misdiagnosing Nationalism as ‘Christian’ Exacerbates the Challenges of Islamophobia: A Response to Murali Balaji

Mar 29, 2019, 12:59pm John W. Morehead

Christian nationalism and White nationalism have some common concerns, but they shouldn’t be conflated in their differing narratives and responses to Muslims and other immigrants.

In the wake of the terrorist attacks on two Muslim mosques in New Zealand by Brenton Tarrant, many are looking to address the motivations and influences underlying the violence. In two RD posts, one from March 18 and another from March 22, Murali Balaji argues that the attacks were rooted in white Christian nationalism. But is Balaji defining Christian nationalism correctly, and is it the best way to characterize Tarrant’s ideological narrative? I will argue below that the answer is “no” to both questions.

To the question of defining Christian nationalism, there is a helpful body of academic research in political science and the social sciences relevant to this. The lead researchers in one study argue that “the conservative strain [of American civil religion] views America as holding a unique covenant with God, which requires it to be protected from outsiders and those who would do it harm. We refer to these ideas more generally as Christian nationalism.” Contrary to Balaji’s assertions in his second essay, Christian nationalism is religious, and it incorporates theological elements. This results in perceptions of “divinely anointed” Christian ingroup members vs. “theologically condemned” outgroup members like Muslims. This fusion of religious and national identities is noteworthy among white American evangelicals, where being Christian is very important to being truly American. This was the Christian nationalism that was a significant factor for white evangelicals who voted for Trump in 2016.

By contrast there are other forms of nationalism. The type associated with white supremacy, sometimes called white nationalism, is concerned with ethnocentrism and the superiority of the white race. Both white nationalism and Christian nationalism have shared concerns about “cultural displacement,” and involve prejudice toward immigrant populations, sometimes seen as “invaders,” manifested in anti-immigrant and anti-Muslim attitudes. But these two forms of nationalism, even with some shared fears, are not the same thing. So Balaji does not define Christian nationalism correctly and conflates it with other forms of nationalism.

To the second question, what type of nationalism did Tarrant espouse? Before his attacks, Tarrant posted a 74-page document on the internet. According to J.M. Berger, an expert in online extremism, Tarrant’s manifesto is “clearly a statement of ideology,” described as white nationalist, and the author “is a white supremacist, and anti-immigration and anti-Muslim.” There is no indication in Berger’s analysis that Tarrant included statements that would characterize his ideology as a form of Christian nationalism.

If Christian nationalism is not the proper way to understand Tarrant’s nationalism, but instead a form of white supremacist nationalism is more accurate, where did the major anti-immigrant influences come from? According to Sasha Polakow-Suransky and Sarah Wildman at Foreign Policy, Tarrant draws upon the work of Renaud Camus, a French anti-immigration writer. They note that while Tarrant was in France at a mall watching immigrant “invaders,” the idea came to him to use violence against nonwhites. Polakow-Suransky and Wildman quote from Tarrant’s manifesto illustrating the emotional impact this had on the soon-to-be mass murderer: “I found my emotions swinging between fuming rage and suffocating despair at the indignity of France, the pessimism of the french [sic] people, the loss of culture and identity and the farce of the political solutions offered.”

It would seem that Balaji has identified the wrong type of nationalism in connection with the New Zealand terrorism. White nationalism provided the ideological narrative, not Christian nationalism.

In the interests of full disclosure, I identify as a Christian. But my disagreement and critique of Balaji’s thesis should not be interpreted as a failure to accept criticism of those in my religious tradition. For the last four years I have been pursuing a grant from the Louisville Institute that has brought social psychology into conversation with American evangelical theologies of opposition to religious others, particularly Muslims. Among the contributing factors, our research indicates that Christian nationalism is a significant predictor of negative attitudes toward Muslims. I accept this, and advocate strategies to counter this narrative so as to foster more positive forms of multifaith interaction.

Christians have behaved badly, and pursued violence toward others, in the name of their religion. That’s beyond dispute. But whether Christian nationalism was the ideological narrative underlying New Zealand’s attacks, that’s another question. And it’s one that I think Balaji misidentified. If we misdiagnose the challenges we face we will create inappropriate strategies to counter them, and possibly foster even more tensions between Christians and Muslims.

***

Murali Balaji responds:

Following my first and second pieces in Religion Dispatches, several evangelical leaders have offered thoughtful critiques of my position that the New Zealand terrorist (whom I will not name) is a white Christian nationalist.

John Morehead writes in his response that I mislabeled anti-immigrant white nationalism as “Christian nationalism,” asserting that “White nationalism provided the ideological narrative, not Christian nationalism.”

I respectfully disagree.

For starters, I emphasized that a white Christian nationalist doesn’t necessarily have to be “religious” in the traditional sense. I would argue that Donald Trump and Mike Pence are both white Christian nationalists, though the former hardly has any attachment to the actual theology of Christianity.

In this regard, white Christian nationalists draw upon and reference a pure white Christian ideal—one that arguably never existed anywhere. If we reference Benedict Anderson’s notion of imagined communities, the white Christian ideal becomes an affinity that helps to build a collective identity.

The terrorist’s manifesto also makes reference to Pope Urban II and the First Crusade, implying that he fancied himself part of a holy war against Muslims and other invaders. While Morehead’s argument seeks to clearly distinguish between white nationalism and Christian nationalism, the terrorist’s own words seem to undercut this attempt.

“We are coming for Constantinople and we will destroy every mosque and minaret in the city,” the terrorist wrote in his manifesto. That’s not subtle in its call for Christian supremacy and destruction of Islam.

I sympathize with Morehead’s position, but the terrorist seems to make both implicit and explicit references to a dream that many white Christian nationalists share: a return to white Christian dominance over its non-white, non-Christian others.

Hinduism and Hindutva debate

An interesting debate on the differences between Hinduism and Hindutva between Shashi Tharoor and Vinay Sahasrabuddhe. Shashi Tharoor is a member of Lok Sabha member from Congress Party while Vinay Sahasrabuddhe is a Rajya Sabha member from the BJP. 

Issues discussed are triple talak, Sabarimala temple,  cow slaughter ban, lynchings, Gandhi's use of religion, Muslim appeasement, citizenship in Northeast India, etc.

Shashi is a well-versed scholar on this subject. He has published a book, Why I am a Hindu, on this subject that has been well-received and praised by many for the succinct analysis of a very complex subject. Some excerpts from Urmi Chanda-Vaz's review for Scroll.in are copied below. The review can be read here. 

Why I Am A Hindu, running close to 300 pages, is divided into two sections, the first of which offers a brief history of Hinduism. The first chapter is titled “My Hinduism”, presented in what can be called the Devdutt Pattanaik mode. It is a clever and necessary disclaimer underscoring subjectivity – especially useful for times when religious sentiments are easily hurt. Tharoor acquaints us with the kind of Hinduism he was raised with, and, along with a sprinkling of anecdotes, gives an overview of the religion...

The second part of the book is titled “Political Hinduism”. This is where Tharoor’s meticulous context-building through the history of Hinduism is particularly useful. He starts building his case with the idea of secularism, which becomes a moot point when viewed through the prism of Western political theory. The right term in the Indian context, he argues, is “pluralism”, for India is and has long been a land of many religions. Further, he says, religion when defined as “dharma” is impossible to divorce from the Hindu way of life...

The author explains the BJP’s brand of Hindutva politics as being based on a victim-turned-avenger complex, a narrative of failure and defeat, and hatred for the Muslim community. Even if one were to turn a blind eye to the clear lack of Muslim representation (at least in the Lok Sabha) in this government, one can hardly ignore visible and worrying trends such as lynching and cow vigilantism. Ideas like ghar waapsi and love jihad, and groups like gau rakshaks and “Anti Romeo squads” operate and thrive under the aegis of the ruling party, and Tharoor correctly echoes the alarm of peace-loving Indians in this context. 

He also critiques the “cultural project” of Hindutva, which aims to “nationalise and spiritualise”. By all means acknowledge the great accomplishments of ancient Indian science, but keep fact and fiction separate, he enjoins. 

“We should take pride in what our forefathers did but resolve to be inspired by them rather than rest on their laurels. We need to use the past as a springboard, not as a battlefield. Only then we can rise above it to create for ourselves a future worthy of our remarkable past.” 

He also strongly condemns the whitewashing, or saffronising, of India’s cultural past vis-à-vis the actions of vigilante groups such as the Bajrang Dal and, most recently, Karni Sena. Not just tolerance, but acceptance, is the hallmark of Hinduism, he reminds the reader again and again.

Iranian identity and nationalism: Shahnameh's Jamsheed or Biblical Cyrus

Professor Ali Ansari gave a very enlightening talk on Iranian identity at Simon Fraser University, Vancouver. He is a professor at St. Andrews and has written extensively on Iran, Iranian identity, Iranian nationalism, and Iran-US relations. He has written seven books on Iran: 

• Iran: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford University Press, 2014),
• The Politics of Nationalism in Modern Iran, (Cambridge University Press, 2012), 
• Crisis of Authority: Iran's 2009 Presidential Election, (Chatham House, 2010), 
• Iran Under Ahmadinejad (Routledge, 2008), 
• Iran, Islam & Democracy - The Politics of Managing Change ( RIIA, London, 2000), 
• The History of Modern Iran Since 1921: the Pahlavis & After (Longman, Pearson Education, London, 2003), and 
• Confronting Iran: The Failure of American Foreign Policy and the Roots of Mistrust, (C Hurst and co, 2006).

Professor Ansari starts his talk by criticizing the ahistorical approach of studying Iranian history through the lens of the 1979 Revolution. He laments that scholars start from the 1979 Revolution and then look back for reasons why it happened as if it was the most important event in modern Iranian history. He contends that it is actually the 1906 Constitutional Revolution that is the most significant event and if one wants to understand Iran, one has to prioritize the 1906 Revolution. 

Professor Ansari explains that his talk is not about the politics of nationalism but about the ideas and myths that formed the basis or have fashioned Iranian identity and nationalism. He argues that it is the national mythology that defines nations, informs people who they are. 

In his talk, Professor Ansari dismisses the usual five periods division of modern Iranian history that he has also used in some of his works: the Constitutional Revolution, Reza Shah and modernization, Second World War and Mussaddeq, Second autocracy under Muhammad Reza Shah, and the post-Islamic Revolution period. He divides modern Iranian history into three periods on the basis of ideas prevalent about Iranian identity:

1. The age of enlightenment (1890-1963?)
2. The age of extremes (1963-1989): the unhappy consciousness?
3. The age of contestation (1989-present)

The age of enlightenment was the key period, according to Professor Ansari. During this formative age, ideas about nation and nationalism were absorbed from the West and then applied to Iran. Surprisingly, the level of engagement between the two sides was pretty sophisticated and a small but influential group of Iranians was debating ideas and was not ready to accept everything Western. The key problem faced by these Iranians was how to disseminate the ideas of civic nationalism to the wider public. They understood that for a nation, both history and myth are necessary. The myth they choose was Ferdowsi's Shahnameh (The Book of Kings). 

Professor Ansari does not explain Shahnameh as most of the people interested in Iran already know what it is but many readers here may be ignorant of its importance, so here is a short introduction. Shahnameh is a long epic Persian poem, consisting of some 50,000 couplets (two-line verses). It was written by Ferdowsi at the turn of the first millennium (977-1010 CE). It is the national epic of Greater Iran. The British Library website has the following Ferdowsi quote and a very, very short synopsis of the epic (more details about Shahnameh on the website can be read here):

"The houses that are the dwelling of today will sink beneath shower and sunshine to decay but storm and rain shall never mar the palace that I have built with my poetry." Ferdowsi.

The Shahnameh, literally meaning 'Book of Kings,' is structured according to the mythical and historical reign of 50 Persian Kings. The epic can be roughly divided into three parts: the first part tells of the mythical creation of Persia and its earliest mythical past; the second part tells of the legendary Kings and the heroes Rostam and Sohrab; the third part blends historical fact with legend, telling of the semi-mythical adventures of actual historical Kings.

Shahnameh was chosen because it was known to the Iranians. For centuries, millions of Iranians had listened to the epic and debated about the qualities of Jamsheed, Rostam, and Sohrab even when there was no historical evidence of their existence.  Even the British recognized the importance of Shahnameh and were using it to seek ordinary Iranians support for allies cause in WWII. In the propaganda pamphlet (published in 1942) below, Kaveh (the mythical blacksmith in Shahnameh who led the popular uprising against the cruel foreign ruler, Zahak) leads, while Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin follow him and Hitler (shown as Zahak) is bound on a horseback.

Source: Alamy.com

It's better to listen to Professor Ansari's lecture for understanding his argument, however, following is a summary of the rest of the talk. 

During the second period, according to Professor Ansari, the focus shifts from Shahnameh to Biblical Cyrus. The change is the result of the affinity that Mohammad Reza Shah felt for Cyrus, the Great. He perhaps thought Cyrus, the Great more useful for his own projection as an enlightened, liberal monarch who would emancipate his people and others from darkness, cruelty, and subjugation. The change also prioritizes 'real' history over myth. During the third period, Cyrus was initially rejected and Shahnameh was again promoted by the state as the basis of Iranian identity but more recently, Cyrus has also seen a revival. Can we see a synthesis in the near future?

To understand the tussle between religious and ethnolinguistic nationalism in Iran, here are some previous blog posts on Iranian nationalism: Iranian 'Persian-National' Identity, Shiite and Persian Nationalism are both myths, Afraid of Ahmadinejad,  Is Persian Identity rising again in Iran?, and More on the tussle between and merging of Islamic and Persian identity in Iran.

MBS and the evolving Saudi Nationalism

Saudi Arabian is evolving but which way? This question was discussed here three years ago (See Saudi Arabian Nationalism, MBS, Salafism and Yemen War). At that time, the role of Islam in Saudi nationalism was ebbing but the same could not be said about Salafism. One could rightly argue that Salafism is a form of Islam but Salafism and (moderate) Islam can sometimes lead one in different directions. It would be difficult to promote Iran as the most dangerous enemy if Islam was a major component of Saudi nationalism but it would be a facile victory if Saudi state subscribes to Salafi nationalism as Salafism (or Wahhabism as its detractors call it) has long designated Shiism as its enemy. For many Salafis, Shiites are infidels, beyond the pale of Islam. The other debate in the 2016 blogpost was about the strength of secular nationalism in the holy kingdom. In 2016, Prince Mohammad bin Salam was still Deputy Crown Prince but was amassing power and trying to lead the kingdom in a new direction. He was speaking against strict religious control and restrictions on Saudi women. Yemen War was being used by him to project himself as the new leader and as someone who would bring Saudis to the 21st century. 

Since then, things have moved swiftly. MBS has become the crown prince while his cousin and previous crown prince is nowhere to be seen. MBS has shown his power by detaining dozens of princes and rich Saudis and getting billions of dollars from them. He has also moved to decrease gender discrimination, although it is still too high even compared to other Muslim-majority and developing countries (See Women can drive in Saudi Arabia but is it really a big change?). This has resulted in some criticism from Salafi religious establishment but MBS has forged ahead.

King Salman (sitting) and the de facto king (MBS)

Source: Why Saudi Arabia Is Embracing a New Nationalism

What about nationalism or more particularly religious/Salafi nationalism? Stratfor in an article contends that Saudi state and MBS have realized that religious nationalism's utility now has diminished and a more territorial nationalism would help achieve national goals (See Why Saudi Arabia Is Embracing a New Nationalism):

At this point in its history, nationalism has stronger benefits to the Saudi state than religious conservatism. Tying identity to a specific place weakens the power of non-Saudi Islamists at home, for example; in a nationalist culture, verbal attacks by Turkish, Egyptian and Iranian Islamists would not represent salient criticisms from fellow Muslims, but rather unwelcome foreign interferences in domestic affairs. Moreover, shifting the Saudi mindset away from the tradition-bound reverence of religion toward the immediacy and secularity of a geographically defined space also opens up the potential for innovation and new ideas — key ingredients for bringing Vision 2030 to fruition.  

Critically, nationalism allows royals to limit domestic policy challenges based on religious opinions, conveniently weakening a check on their power as they embrace unprecedented behavior such as considering once-unthinkable ties with Israel. This also undercuts the ability of the conservative clerics to object to some of the kingdom's social reforms, like gender mixing, encouraging women to work and drive, and encouraging previously banned forms of art and entertainment...

While the contrast between Saudi Islamism and the Christian religious community in the United States has long been a complicating element of U.S.-Saudi ties, Prince Mohammed's meeting with Christian leaders illustrated a more relaxed attitude toward Christianity, which the kingdom hopes will improve relations with the United States. And any stories about non-Islamic worship being permitted publicly in Saudi Arabia, even if just for expatriates, weakens the image of a Saudi culture defined by hard-liners and encourages nationalist thought to expand in schools, media and art.

A recent article by Vivian Nereim (Bloomberg.com) echos the analysis and argues that the Saudi state under MBS is moving away from Salafi nationalism (See ‘Traitor’ Is the New ‘Infidel’ as Nationalism Grips Saudi Arabia). She contends that an aggressive and exclusivist nationalism is still being promoted but it is not primarily based on religion or sect:

Saudi Arabia’s undergoing an aggressive nationalist rebranding, downplaying an austere religious doctrine associated abroad with terrorism, and promoting veneration of de facto ruler Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman as he pursues an economic overhaul. Amid efforts to maintain domestic support while redesigning the contract between state and citizen, traitors, not infidels, are the enemy... 

“If a person is neutral or stands with the enemy against this country, it’s our right to call him a traitor,” Abdullah Al Fozan, a member of the [Saudi] consultative council [the nominated advisory council that functions in lieu of a legislature], said in a televised diatribe that went viral late last year... 

There’s an echo of the nativist triumphalism that accompanied political earthquakes in Europe and the U.S., with Donald Trump-inspired slogans like “Saudi First” and “Saudi The Great.” But what’s happening also has local flavors.

Such an aggressive nationalism can derail MBS plans of economic revival, religious and non-religious mega-tourism, and foreign investment but the Saudi officials are not relenting:

The risk is that baiting people to turn on fellow citizens under the guise of patriotism might rupture a society already under strain from the costs imposed by Prince Mohammed’s “Vision 2030” reforms, and deter the foreign investors and visitors he wants to attract. 

For now, officials aren’t hurrying to squash the spiteful mood -- a “with us or against us” mindset seen by some Saudis as needed to steer the country through a tough transition...
“Nationalism came in at a time when Saudi Arabia was not only trying to curtail the religious identity inside the country, but was also following a more assertive foreign policy,” said Eman Alhussein, a Saudi visiting fellow with the European Council on Foreign Relations... 

Whoever is responsible, they’re changing behavior. Stand-up comedian Yaser Bakr was forced to give a public apology last month after an old video surfaced of him making fun of the religious police. A social media campaign labeled him a traitor and called for him to be arrested and banned from comedy. Another young Saudi said he’s abandoned Twitter and holds back in family gatherings to avoid questions over loyalty.

The biggest test yet faced by the made over Saudi state, besides Yemen War, was Saudi dissident journalist and Washington Post columnist Jamal Khashoggi's murder. Khashoggi was once part of the ruling elite and close to the royal family. He was a Salafi and was against Iran. His only crime was criticizing MBS in the Western press and that cost him dearly in the hyper-nationalistic climate. 

Other analysts have also pointed to the close ties with the Trump administration, coordination with the Israeli government (although it is not publically acknowledged), and distance from the Palestinian administration as evidence of the lesser role of religion in the affairs of the Saudi state. True, but the lack of public acknowledgment also demonstrates that religious and Arab issues still carry weight. What is clear is that Islam and Salafism carry less weight now than they carried five years ago in Saudi Arabia. A new identity is being forged which is based not only on Islam or Salafism but also on territory and loyalty to Saudi royals.   

However, this new identity can create new problems. Stratfor article cautions that territorial nationalism can unite the people against the royal house as has happened in many other countries during the 20th century:

Though Saudi leaders are hoping that a swell of nationalism will reduce checks on royal power, nationalist thought itself — especially once regular citizens have fully embraced it — could replace those checks and even eclipse their power. Former Saudi kings saw nationalist thought as a danger to royal unilateralism, preferring the hierarchical and relatively predictable hard-line Islamists to the more rowdy and innovative nationalists of the 20th century. A new push for Saudi nationalism may challenge the monarchy in exactly the way that its 20th century rulers wanted to avoid. 

Identifying with a nation, after all, is far different than identifying with the ruling house of the nation's government. Asking Saudis for loyalty to national interests invites increasing citizen engagement with what, exactly, the national interests are — a question that until recently has been answered only by the royal family. As nationalism ascends, Saudi public opinion stands to grow more complex and less easily motivated by the tools of old, including handouts and religious scruples. 

Additionally, if nationalism is equated with the traditions of Najd province [the home of the royal family], where Riyadh is located, rather than being pan-Arabian, nominally suppressed or sidelined local identities may experience a resurgence. Places like Shiite-dominated Qatif in the Eastern province, Asir in the southwest and the Hejaz, which hosts the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, all have local identities that may be empowered by nationalism and may bristle against the state's imposition of Najdi symbols, rituals and culture.
 

Israel is not a country of all its citizens

Religious nationalism in Israel or Zionism achieved a new high on March 10, 2019. A sitting Prime Minister, who many expect to be sworn in again after the Knesset elections and become the longest-serving Israeli Prime Minister in history, publicly declared, " Israel is not a country of all its citizens." He was denying equal citizenship or full citizenship of Arab Israelis who make almost one-fifth of the Israeli population. Many would argue that most countries in the world do prioritize one religious, ethnic, or linguistic community over other communities so the statement was not something rare or surprising. Others would argue that Israel has never given equal rights to its Arab citizens in its 71-year history so the only people baffled by Benjamin Netanyahu's statement were the ignorant morons. Bibi's critics would point to his statement on the previous election day in March 2015 when he appealed to the rightwing voter by demonizing Arabs. He said that “the rule of the right is in danger” because "Arab voters were coming out in droves to the polls," bused by the left-wing NGOs. This appeal was decisive in winning him the last Knesset elections.

Source: Jerusalem Post

But the statement was stupefying because we live in a world where microaggressions are frowned upon and Israel claims to be a democracy. In fact, it prides itself as the only democracy in the Middle East. A former Prime Minister and Chief of Staff Ehud Barak said Israel was "a villa in the jungle," i.e. an outpost of civilization amidst the barbarism of the Middle East. Do other democratic leaders use Netanyahu's kind of rhetoric to win elections? No. Even dictators would not use this rhetoric today. So, it was astonishing for Netanyahu to write it and then he doubled down it and defended his statement before a cabinet meeting. 

Here is what prompted Netanyahu to proudly declare that Israeli Arabs are second-class citizens. Rotem Sela, a popular Israeli model and TV host, watching Miri Regev, the Israeli Culture Minister being interviewed by Rina Matsliah. Rotem became upset by Miri's racist attitude and wrote on her Instagram: “Miri Regev is sitting and explaining to Rina Matsliah that the public needs to beware, because if Benny Gantz is elected he will have to create a government with the Arabs. Rina Matsliah is silent. And I ask myself: why doesn’t Rina ask her in shock: ‘And what’s the problem with the Arabs???’ Dear God, there are also Arab citizens in this country. When will anyone in this government tell the public that this is a country of all its citizens, and all people are born equal.” The actress said that “the Arabs are also human beings. And also the Druze, and the gays, and the lesbians and... gasp... leftists.” 

Netanyahu responded on Facebook, "Dear Rotem, an important correction: Israel is not a state of all its citizens. According to the Nation-State Law that we passed, Israel is the nation-state of the Jewish people – and its alone. As you wrote, there is no problem with the Arab Israeli citizens – they have equal rights like everybody and the Likud government has invested in the Arab sector more than any other government."

Israeli President Rivlin criticized Netanyahu's “entirely unacceptable remarks about the Arab citizens of Israel” without naming him and added, "“There are no first-class citizens, and there are no second-class voters. We are all equal in the voting booth. We are all represented at the Knesset.” 

But Bibi was unapologetic and reaffirmed his anti-Arab stance before Sunday's Cabinet's meeting as Guardian reported:

As the comments caused waves in Israel, Netanyahu again spoke of the issue at the start of a cabinet meeting. He called Israel a “Jewish, democratic state” with equal rights, but “the nation state not of all its citizens but only of the Jewish people”.

Netanyahu has been accused of demonising Israeli Arabs, who make up about 17% of the population, in an attempt to boost rightwing turnout in elections due on 9 April. He has continually warned that his opponents will receive the support of Arab parties and that they will make significant concessions to the Palestinians.

Wonder woman star, Gal Gadot, supported her friend Rotem Sela:

“Love thy neighbor as thyself,” Gadot wrote in Hebrew on her own Instagram account in response. “It is not a matter of right or left, Jewish or Arab, religious or secular. It’s a matter of dialogue for peace, equality and tolerance for one another. It is our responsibility to plant hope and light for a better future for our children. Rotem, you are an inspiration for us all.” (See ynet news)