Reclaiming their Shadow: Ethnopolitical Mobilization in Consolidated Democracies

Ph. D. Dissertation by Britt Cartrite Department of Political Science University of Colorado at Boulder

May 1, 2003

Dissertation Committee: Professor William Safran, Chair; Professor James Scarritt; Professor Sven Steinmo; Associate Professor David Leblang; Professor Luis Moreno.

Abstract: In recent decades Western Europe has seen a dramatic increase in the political activity of ethnic groups demanding special institutional provisions to preserve their distinct identity. This mobilization represents the relative failure of centuries of assimilationist policies among some of the oldest nation-states and an unexpected outcome for scholars of modernization and nation-building. In its wake, the phenomenon generated a significant scholarship attempting to account for this activity, much of which focused on differences in economic growth as the root cause of ethnic activism.

However, some scholars find these models to be based on too short a timeframe for a rich understanding of the phenomenon or too narrowly focused on material interests at the expense of considering institutions, culture, and psychology. In response to this broader debate, this study explores fifteen ethnic groups in three countries (France, Spain, and the United Kingdom) over the last two centuries as well as factoring in changes in Western European thought and institutions more broadly, all in an attempt to build a richer understanding of ethnic mobilization. Furthermore, by including all “national minorities” in these three countries, groups not often taken account of in comparative studies will be incorporated into the analysis presented here, perhaps avoiding errors resulting from selecting only currently highly mobilized groups. This study finds that when the evolution of cultural and political contexts are taken into account, ethnic mobilization appears as a long process tied directly to the expansion of norms of democracy and group rights, the nature of the national identity, and the distinctiveness of the ethnic identity. Table of Contents

Dissertation Approval 1

Tables, Figures, and Maps 2

Acknowledgements 3

Introduction: The Shadow of Ethnic Identity 5

Chapter 1: Assumptions, Definitions, and Analytic Frameworks 16

Chapter 2: European Thought and Institutions – 43 The Evolving Supra-national Context

Chapter 3: Ethnopolitical Mobilization Under Jacobin Nationalism – 80 The Case of France Chapter 4: Ethnopolitical Mobilization Under Ethnic Nationalism – 120 The Case of Spain Chapter 5: Ethnopolitical Mobilization Under Civic Nationalism – 150 The Case of the United Kingdom Chapter 6: How Different is Different Enough? 202 Group-level Factors and Ethnopolitical Mobilization Conclusion: Towards a New Model of Ethnopolitical Mobilization 289

References 304

Appendix 323

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1 Tables, Figures, and Maps

Tables 1-1: Components of ethnicity 19 1-2: Comparison of national identity 41 4-1: Ideological and centralist/regionalist cleavages in Spain 135 4-2: Competing bases of Spanish identity 147 A-1: Comparing elements of groupcon 331 A-2: Testing constructed elements of ethnicity 336

Figures 7-1: A generalized model of ethnopolitical mobilization 289 7-2: Group factor interactions 293 7-3: Group-state factor interactions 296 7-4: Group-state-European factor interactions 298

Maps 3-1: Languages and dialects of France 83 3-2: The expansion of France 84 3-3: Patois-speaking communes, 1863 93 3-4: Entrenched areas of patios 95 3-5: France’s “natural” boundaries 114 4-1: The Reconquista 125 4-2: Spanish kingdoms in 1360 128 4-3: The Autonomous Communities of Spain 141 5-1: Roman Britain 151 5-2: The Anglo-Saxon invasion 155 5-3: The Viking interregnum 158 5-4: The plantation of Ireland 175 6-1: France-Alsace 215 6-2: France-Basques 218 6-3: France-Bretons 223 6-4: France-Catalans 230 6-5: France-Corsicans 232 6-6: France-Flamands 237 6-7: France-Occitans 239 6-8: Spain-Basques 243 6-9: Spain-Catalans 252 6-10: Spain-Galicians 262 6-11: United Kingdom-Cornish 266 6-12: United Kingdom-Northern Irish Catholics 270 6-13: United Kingdom-Scots 276 6-14: United Kingdom-Welsh 282

2 Acknowledgements

A project the size of a dissertation causes one to incur too many debts to too

many people for all of them to be appropriately acknowledged. The same holds true

for me and my work. However, there are a few people I wish to recognize here.

First, Professor William Safran, who, as chair of my dissertation committee,

advisor, mentor, and friend continually challenged me to push myself and my

research further. Luis Moreno, whose expertise and collegiality in Belfast, Paris, and

via e-mail was a constant source of knowledge, encouragement, and friendship. Sven

Steinmo, who forced me to develop and maintain focus when my research and

interests led me on numerous tangents and demanded I write something people could

actually read. And the other members of my committee, David Leblang and James

Scarritt, whose perspectives and insights helped broaden both my methodological

approaches and my analyses.

I would also like to thank members of the IPSA Research Committee on

Ethnicity and Politics, and in particular Ramón Máiz, for enduring early presentations

of research in Belfast and Paris that resulted in this project. The faculty and staff of

the Department of Political Science at the University of Colorado, whose friendship

and invaluable assistance over the years made this project possible. And my fellow grad students alongside whom I managed to survive seminars, comprehensive exams, long hours of research and frustration, to emerge on the other side.

Finally, and most importantly, I would like to thank members of my family, the Tolers, Cartrites, and Kellehers, whose years of encouragement and support have been so important to reaching this point. My two beautiful children, Luke and Emma,

3 who remind me every day of what really matters in life. And finally, my amazing wife Nancy, the most wonderful partner in this project: Without her I would not have done so much so quickly in my studies, let alone have built such a wonderful family along the way; Nancy, in the years that come I hope to repay at least part of all you have given to me.

4 Introduction: The Shadow of Ethnic Identity

Peter Schlemiel’s Wonderful Story1

Once upon a time there lived a man named Peter

Schlemiel. After attending a wonderful party at which there

was evidence of magic, he set out to find the purveyor of these

tricks. Upon meeting the man, the man made Peter a rather

intriguing offer: sell his shadow for a magic bag which

produced endless wealth. Peter, being a good homo

economicus, made the exchange.

Peter’s sudden economic good fortune had an unexpected side-effect,

however: He soon found that, despite his great wealth, people reviled Peter wherever

he went for his shadowless state. He attempted to hide his condition in a variety of

ways: traveling only at night, in carriages, or in forests; hosting parties only by

torchlight; having a servant stand next to him to provide a shadow. In each location,

however, his secret was eventually discovered and made

public, forcing Peter to move on.

The protagonist undertook a variety of strategies to

restore his more natural condition. At one point he even

attempted to have a shadow painted for him, only to have

the artist (who was quite disgusted at the thought of working for a patron sans shadow) inform him that Peter would be

1 Adelbert von Chamisso, 1993, Peter Schlemiels Wundersame Geschichte [Peter Schlemiel’s Wonderful Story] (Columbia SC: Camden House).

5 required to stand in one place for the effect to work. After a year and a day of

shadowlessness, having suffered extortion, humiliation, and lonliness, Peter again met

the man in possession of his shadow and attempted to reverse the exchange.

However, the man informed Peter that he must pay the dearer price of his soul for the

return of his shadow. The Devil, revealing his true nature, even loaned Peter his old

shadow for a brief time to remind Peter of the beautiful condition he had so recklessly

bartered away. Peter, perhaps wisely, refused to part with his soul, but his attempt to

steal his shadow from the Devil failed, leaving Peter despondent.

The tale ends with Peter, having thrown away his magic purse but now in

possession of a pair of magic boots, traveling the world exploring its many wonders.

His lack of a shadow rendered him an outcast, but Peter made the best of his situation

and ended his days in relative contentment collecting flora and fauna from across the

globe but in isolation. The fable concludes with Peter advising: “I say that if you

wish to live among your fellow man, learn to value your shadow more than gold. If,

on the other hand, you choose to live only for the sake of your own better self, then you need no advice from me (Chamisso 1993, 87)”.

Most scholars agree that Peter Schlemiel’s shadow represents national or ethnic identity.2 While Peter does eventually decline to sell his soul to regain his shadow, the story illustrates that only a fool (hence the name Schlemiel: God’s Fool)

2 Evidence for this argument is substantiated in letters written by Chamisso at the time, reflecting his own self-perceived lack of nationality. For example, he writes in a letter to a friend: “I am a Frenchman in Germany and a German in France; a Catholic among the Protestants, Protestant among Catholics; a philosopher among the religious…, a mundane among the savants, and a pedant to the mundane; Jacobin among the aristocrats, and to the democrats a nobleman, a man of the Ancien Regime… Nowhere am I at home…!” And later: “The world events of the year 1813, in which I was not able to take an active part – for I had forfeited a fatherland, or rather had not yet adopted one – tore me apart repeatedly, without deflecting me from my chosen path. That summer, to distract myself and to amuse the children of a friend, I wrote the fairy tale, Peter Schlemiel (Chamisso 1993, xii-xiii).”

6 would part with one’s ethnic identity at any lesser price. Ethnic identity becomes as

central an element of the human condition as a shadow, the value of which is

immeasurable.

The political mobilization of ethnicity in Western Europe: an overview

Chamisso’s story, written in 1813, evokes the emotive power of group

identity, which transmits to present-day ethnic groups. Across Western Europe ethnic

groups seek to “reclaim their shadow”, actively seeking special accommodations or,

in a handful of cases, their own country. Ethnic groups increasingly reject their

assimilation into larger national identities, occasionally even turning to terrorism to

advance their cause. To address the problem, international charters, treaties, and

institutions have emerged. Even the most historically reticent and oldest states, for centuries committed to assimilating such groups, are implementing reforms to accommodate them and, in the process, rethinking and reworking their own identity.

Some might dismiss this mobilization as merely another manifestation of democracy. Groups in a democracy form for a variety of reasons around a host of issues seeking to advance their interests. Indeed, the mobilization of such groups

may indicate a healthy, vibrant democracy facilitating political activism around new

concerns.

However, the political activities of these groups in particular represent the

failure of forces long expected to work to promote assimilation: wealth, freedom,

stability, and democracy. The mobilization of these particular territorial sub-cultures

represents a trend which contradicts centuries of national identity formation and, for

some, strikes at the very heart of the idealized nation-state itself. For most of the

7 modern period the policy was to deny the significance, or even existence, of cultural

pluralism as states sought to consolidate their territory and population; thus ethnic

mobilization may signify more than simply democratic activism spreading to a new

issue area.

Furthermore, the mobilization of ethnicity as the basis for political activism

increasingly threatens the existing political institutions and, in fewer cases, the

continued viability of the state itself. In Italy the Lega Nord has emerged as a player

in national politics, arguing for regional autonomy for the north and exploiting

cultural distinctions within the country; additionally, linguistically distinct regions

such as South Tyrol and Sardinia press the Italian Government for institutional

accommodations. In France institutional reforms accommodating the Corsicans are

viewed by many in that country as a model for other ethnic groups and, for many,

represent the demise of France itself. The United Kingdom has in the last few years restored the Scottish Parliament after almost three centuries, established a regional executive for Wales, continues to attempt to devolve regional power to Northern

Ireland, and is increasingly being pressured to address the question of an English region or regions within, yet distinct from, Britain. The process of Spanish devolution established in the 1978 Constitution has generated a contagion effect among regions not normally differentiated from the Spanish identity as people in these areas seek local powers similar to the “historical nationalities” of the Basque

Region, Catalonia, and Galicia, whose populations respond with demands for further institutional accommodations to differentiate these areas from Castilian Spain. And, in the most extreme case in Western Europe, the continuation of the Belgian state is

8 increasingly in doubt as its two largest ethnic communities increasingly separate

themselves from each other. Ethnopolitical mobilization is also increasingly evident

in Europe in Finland, Sweden, Norway, Hungary, Cyprus, and elsewhere, in addition

to Canada and New Zealand among Western societies; some posit that pressures to

recognize linguistic and cultural difference in the American Southwest may justify

the inclusion of the United States this list. Thus even in the heart of capitalist

democracy, where ethnicity has long been associated with quaint, pre-modern

sentiment destined for the dustbin of history, political activism has increasingly

challenged centuries-long institutions and identities.

At the time of the French Revolution in 1789, which “change(d) decisively the

focus on minorities, away from religion and towards culture and its main (although not exclusive) manifestation, language (Alcock 2000, 8)”, large states in Western

Europe were highly ethnically heterogeneous. Elites frequently used a language different from the masses, only a minority spoke the “national” language, while most within the same political boundaries spoke numerous dialects and regional languages.

Despite this heterogeneity, however, contemporary Liberal thinkers began articulating the notion of the homogenous nation-state as the ideal political arrangement, a function of the Enlightenment ideal of popular sovereignty. Liberal thinkers defined the characteristics of “the people” in purely civic terms of a desire to be citizens of the Republic rather than on the basis of language, culture, or other ethnic criteria, a position perhaps best represented in the writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, one of the intellectual inspirations for the French Revolution.

9 Even in revolutionary France, however, the pure ideal of civic citizenship

quickly gave way to citizenship involving aspects of ethnicity, especially language, in large part to unify the various peoples within the French territory. Theorists of the day such as Herder and the Göttingen circle increasingly articulated the equation of a people with their language (Geary 2002, 22-4). When coupled with the increasingly territorial (rather than personal, feudal, or universalistic) notion of the state, as

Renaissance enclaves gave way to modern contiguous territories, the stage was set for the flourishing of the nation-state as the ideal arrangement: a political entity representing a single people with a common language within a clearly delineated territory (Spryut 1994, 155). The revolutionary moment of civic nationalism, therefore, gave way at least in part to an ethnic notion of “the people”.

The nineteenth-century saw the literal demise of some ethnicities and the increased marginalization of others as “state-nation” building proceeded in earnest.

France, Spain, and the United Kingdom, three of the earliest nation-states, initiated and expanded efforts to demote regional languages, cultures, and identities to quaint rural artifacts; French, Spanish, and English identities increasingly dominated their respective domestic contexts. The discontinuity between the Liberal ideal of the homogenous nation-state and the reality of late 18th century ethnic pluralism appeared

resolved overwhelmingly in favor of ethnic assimilation rather than redrawing

borders. By 1914, little doubt remained regarding the continued survival of the many

ethnicities in these three countries: they were destined to fail.

Yet the situation today represents not a further continuation of the demise of

ethnic identity, but its impressive resurgence. Ethnic groups with historical territorial

10 claims, distinct languages, and traditions of mobilization, such as the Scots, Bretons, and Catalans, enjoy a renaissance of cultural and political mobilization, achieving new heights of political activity. Previously unmobilized groups, such as the Cornish,

Corsicans, and Occitans, have emerged, claiming the same special provisions offered previously mobilized groups; regional groups, such as the Andalusians, have even more recently attempted to mimic, as much as possible, the features of ethnicities in order to make similar claims against the state. In response, the unitary states of

Britain and France have made territorial concessions to some groups, while the present constitution in Spain is predicated on the principle of territorial autonomy with special provisions for “historic nationalities” articulated specifically in the

Constitution. The broader trend of ethnic mobilization, therefore, has been a dramatic nineteenth-century decline in sub-cultural sentiment and mobilization followed by a late twentieth century resurgence. Recent ethnic mobilization, which initially may have appeared as merely one source of democratic activity by interest groups, in fact represents a clear reversal of nation-building efforts by some of the most powerful states.

Beneath this general pattern of decline and revival exists a second set of country-specific trends. In France, by some measures the most heterogeneous country in Western Europe, ethnic mobilization has been consistently low, especially in comparison to France’s neighbors. Spain, on the other hand, has experienced acute vacillations in mobilization, at least partially related to its swings between democratic and authoritarian regimes, and has enacted among the most substantial institutional accommodations of these groups in Western Europe. And Britain, while suffering the

11 most extreme example of ethnic mobilization in the secession of most of its Irish

population and territory, has experienced only limited mobilization by its non-Irish

Celtic periphery.

Even these state-specific patterns, however, represent generalizations masking

important intra-state variations. Some groups, such as the Scots in the UK and

Basques and Catalans of Spain, are groups with long histories of mobilization enjoying significant recent successes. Others, such as the Bretons in France, have long histories with few successes. In some cases, such as the Corsicans, mobilization is relatively recent and quite successful. Groups such as the Alsatians in France mobilized early, only to suffer reprisals resulting in dramatic demobilization, while others, such as France’s Flemish, never mobilized against the state in a meaningful way. Thus within the state-level patterns described above are significant variations which this study will seek to explore by focusing on differences in the coherence of those elements that distinguish the ethnicity from the national identity, including territory, language, size, and history.

This dramatic and highly varied mobilization of ethnicity has confounded scholars of nation-building who had long theorized that, at least in the long run, democracy and especially capitalism would erode the salience of ethnic identity in favor of a larger national one. Scholars have responded with an explosion of literature exploring this phenomenon in Western countries, as well as other contexts; indeed Walker Connor, one of the field’s most respected scholars, concluded that “the study of ethnic heterogeneity and its consequences had become a growth industry

12 (1994, 71)”.3 In the intervening decades, as ethnic movements have expanded both in

number and in the mobilization of their putative constituents, studies exploring

factors such as economic development, political institutions, and features of the ethnic groups themselves have sought to develop clear models explaining this persisting phenomenon. Despite this extensive exploration of the political mobilization of ethnic identity, Connor concludes that the emphasis of much of the literature has become misdirected towards economic factors and has overlooked history, rhetoric, cultural artifacts such as poetry and songs, and, most importantly, the powerful emotional appeal of ethnic identity symbolized by Peter Schlemiel.4

The outline of this study

This study will explore the rise of ethnic mobilization in Western Europe, a seemingly recent phenomenon with deep historical roots. Central to this analysis will be the clash of identities, where ethnic groups seek to (re)assert themselves in a context of developing national identity and state-nation building. Ethnic mobilization presses demands for recognition of the distinct identity of ethnicities and for institutional accommodation based on that distinctiveness; as such, these movements

3 Connor’s 1994 publication Ethnonationalism is a collection of essays written and published over almost 30 years. For clarity, references to these articles are to the collected publication rather than to the individual publications themselves. 4 Connor articulates five specific admonitions for the future study of ethnicity and politics: 1. Greater attention must be paid to avoiding imprecise and confusing terminology. 2. Greater appreciation for the psychological / emotional depth of ethnonational identity must be reflected in the literature. 3. Greater refinements are necessary with regard to classifying peoples and political systems for comparative purposes. 4. Greater appreciation that ethnonational demands are at bottom political rather than economic in nature should be reflected in proposals for accommodating ethnic heterogeneity. 5. It should always be remembered that ethnonationalism is a mass phenomenon, and keeping this in mind should counteract the tendency to overemphasize the role of elites as its impresarios (Connor 1994, 85). For an extended critique of models based on economic difference, see Connor 2001, 114-121.

13 challenge both the national identity and the institutional character of the state, rendering them as very real challengers to the nation-state.

To take into account a variety of potential factors playing a role in the political mobilization of ethnic identity with an eye towards building a new model of ethnic mobilization, this study will proceed through various levels of analysis corresponding to the generalized patterns outlined above: regional, state, and group-level. Chapter 1 discusses the extant literature at greater depth, defines concepts central to the study, and articulates the heuristic frameworks used in subsequent chapters. Chapter 2 explores the evolution of European thought and supra-national institutions, exploring connections between them and state policies and mobilization opportunities which in turn impact mobilization. Chapters 3-5 explore France, Spain, and the United

Kingdom in detail, articulating each state’s policies towards ethnic minorities over the past two centuries, emphasizing how variations across the three cases, stemming from variations in the nature of their respective national identities, explain mid-level trends of mobilization. Chapter 6, explores group-specific features based on the concept of

“differential fact” to ascertain what elements of ethnic identity appear to make ethnicity more salient and, therefore, contribute to political mobilization.

Finally, the Conclusion synthesizes the findings of the preceding chapters:

The political mobilization of ethnic groups is shown to be influenced through the interrelationship of factors at the Western Europe level, state-level dynamics, and group-specific elements. When the combination of these three categories is taken into account, the underlying motivations of seemingly disparate ethnic elite efforts, sometimes pressing to enhance group distinctiveness while at other times attempting

14 to realize institutional accommodations, become clear; furthermore, the model

establishes specific patterns of interrelationships, providing a useful heuristic

framework for future analysis. The final analysis concludes that the “shadow” of ethnic identity proves to be far more important than expected from a rational, functional point of view and movements to reclaim ethnic identity are mobilizing as a

result of increasingly favorable contexts, related to the evolution both of Western

Europe and within the individual countries considered. The emotive power of ethnic

identity, emphasized by Connor and illustrated by Chamisso, proves to be a central

element to understanding ethnic mobilization in Western Europe.

15 Chapter 1: Assumptions, Definitions, and Analytic Frameworks

Introduction

Studies of the political mobilization of ethnicity immediately confront a

number of conceptual issues. First, what is an ethnic group and, relatedly, is it

different from a national group? And second, what is political mobilization and how

can it be compared across time, countries, and groups?

Given this range of issues, the vast literature on the political mobilization of

ethnicity frequently becomes mired in debates over definition or, at the other extreme, ignores potentially significant factors due to overly simplistic definitions. This chapter outlines the dominant literature, highlighting both of these tendencies. With these problems in mind, the chapter will then articulate the rationale for the approach and case-studies used in the subsequent chapters.

What is an ethnic group?

One of the more difficult issues to be addressed in studies of ethnic

mobilization is the determination of what elements differentiate an ethnic group from

other social groups. From this fundamental problem arises a second, related question:

what is the difference, if any, between nations and ethnic groups? In many respects

the two types are similar: identifying markers can include language, culture, shared

history, religion, race, and others. As a result, many scholars tend to conflate the two,

in practice if not in principle.

T. K. Oommen (1997) argues that this raises a number of problems. He finds

that, for most scholars, a nation is a particular and usually ascriptive group with

16 aspirations for their own state, the ostensible goal of nationalist movements.

However, ethnic groups also may have political aspirations. When these goals include independence, for some scholars ethnic groups become nations, but groups with political aspirations short of independence are seemingly not so classified;

Anthony Smith finds ethnicity to be latent nationalism, merely awaiting political

mobilization (1981: 24. See also Connor, 1994: 40-43; Worsley, 1984: 247).

This fluidity of a group potentially moving between ethnic and nation

classifications based on the goals of its leadership makes the issue increasingly

problematic, in part in that subsequent analyses tend to focus on one category to the

exclusion of the other. A second potential problem lies along the dimension of

territory as a factor in determining group classification. Groups characterized by

cultural, religious, linguistic, historical or other criteria yet lacking claims to territory

would appear to also be ethnic groups, yet nations seemingly require claims to

territory as part of their effort to form a state. Furthermore, this dimension would

seem to juxtapose nations against ethnic groups, sub-cultures, immigrant

communities, and racial minorities. For Oommen, the critical distinction is that a

nation combines culture with territory and, therefore, has some potential basis for

political institutions, whereas an ethnic group, lacking territory, does not (1997: 34).

A third dimension leading to confusion, in addition to those of political

aspirations and territory, is the sense of inclusiveness: Thomas Erikson argues that the

crucial distinction is between insiders and outsiders; ethnic boundaries are determined

through the mutual recognition of them by members of the group as well as those

excluded (1991: 265). Again, there are ambiguities in this argument, especially when

17 the possibility of compound identity exists: group membership may become more a function of the context in which it is used rather than of any fixed boundaries.

Finally, it is not clear exactly which actors are the definitive voices in making such determinations; presumably there will be disagreements among both insiders and outsiders as to group membership.

As a result of these ambiguities, which represent a significant part of the literature on ethnicity and nationalism, Hugh Seton-Watson argues: “no ‘scientific definition’ of a nation can be devised; yet the phenomenon has existed and exists

(1977: 5).” Studies of ethnicity and nationalism must nevertheless attempt to delineate the groups they are considering. Within these debates are two areas of discussion: 1) What characteristics are markers of ethnic groups; and 2) Are those characteristics relatively fixed (primordial) or subject to human agency (constructed)?

Unfortunately, the literature offers little agreement as to those specific features of group identity that constitute ethnicity. Table 1-1 shows how some of the major works in the field view various aspects of ethnicity; where possible, numeric rankings from most to least important are provided. In some cases the works referred to are exploring nationalism. However, there is considerable overlap in the nationalism and ethnicity literature regarding definitive group characteristics; as a result, both are included in the survey.

A few remarks about this summary of fourteen of the more significant analyses of ethnicity and nationalism are in order. In some cases authors do not distinguish between the relative importance of the factors they discuss; in those cases the components are merely indicated. For authors that do articulate relative

18 importance, a coding is provided from most important (1) to least important (varies).

First, although a shared culture represents the most frequently cited component (7)

Table 1-1: Components of Ethnicity5 cult desc terr lang history will symbol recog threat relig econ psyc Herder (1770) 1 Renan (1882) 1 Stalin (1912) X X X X Kohn (1944) 4 6 2 5 1 3 Hroch (2000) X X X X X Connor (1994) 1 Hechter (1999) 1 Van den Berghe (1981) 1 2 3 Gellner (1983) 1 2 Horowitz (1985) 1 2 3 4 Smith (1991) 4 1 3 2 5 6 Eriksen (1992) X X Haas (1997) 1 Gurr (2000) 3 1 2 despite the relative ambiguity as to definitions of culture, common descent is only slightly less frequent (6), yet descent is consistently ranked as the most important element by those who include it, with the notable exception of Kohn, who places it lowest in his ranking. Furthermore, there is significant disagreement across these works regarding common descent as genetic, and therefore (perhaps) akin to race, or

5 The categories in the chart are as follows: culture; (myth of) common descent; territory; language; history; will to be a group; group symbols; mutual recognition of group membership; threat to cultural existence; religion; economic ties; and psychology. Sources are: Kohn 1944: 13-16; Hroch 2000: 4-5; Connor 1994: 202; Hechter 1999: 4; Van den Berghe 1981: 18, 40, 59-60; Gellner 1983: 7; Horowitz 1985: 55-75; Smith 1991: 21-23; Eriksen 1992: 3; Haas 1997: 23; Gurr 2000: 4. Entries are arranged chronologically by original publication date; some of the publication dates listed in the table are of subsequent editions or reprints. Also, elements are arranged from most to least frequently occurring.

19 as a constructed myth negating the historical reality of migration and interbreeding in

most cases. Territory and, especially, language appear as qualifications only for older

analyses of ethnicity, perhaps in part a function of generalizing from European examples.

The remaining features point generally to socially constructed, rather than

empirical, elements. A shared history and common symbols represent more recently

emphasized features, while the “will” to be a group is found in a handful of works

over a long period. Mutual recognition of group membership, the perception of a

threat to ethnic identity, and shared psychology are characteristics clearly reflective of

psychological dynamics. Finally, shared religion and shared economic interests may

be based partially in “empirics”, in that groups may have these features without active attempts to create them, but the recognition of them as representing distinctive group identity likely requires conscious effort. Overall, the mix of elements reflects both empirical and constructed features, with little agreement as to which quintessentially define ethnic groups.

Despite the lack of general agreement as to what characteristics define ethnic groups, there does seem to be an emerging consensus regarding the primordialist/constructivist debate: ethnicity is comprised both of empirical elements and of features that can be shaped by ethnic activists. For example, while ethnic symbols (such as a flag, anthem, or holiday) represent empirical facts, they are consciously produced by ethnic activists precisely in an attempt to more clearly define the group. Another example lies in language: while a preexisting language may exist, ethnic activists seek to spread its use, standardize the language, and

20 produce literary works in an attempt to increase the significance of the language.

Thus there appears to be an interaction between empirical features and conscious attempts to manipulate and manufacture elements to differentiate their group from the larger national identity.

What is the political mobilization of ethnicity?

As stated above, a significant part of the literature focuses on distinctive groups seeking political independence; for many this is the fundamental distinction between ethnic groups and nations. However, other scholars find that many similar groups hold more limited goals, seeking institutional accommodation of their particularistic identity rather than statehood. Indeed, this is a commonly used demarcation between ethnic and national groups.

At its most basic level, however, the political mobilization of these separate categories is the same: ascriptive groups seeking to realize accommodation of their distinctiveness through a variety of organizations, running the gamut from cultural organizations (i.e. literary or culinary associations) preserving distinctive group features, to pressure groups and political parties seeking institutional accommodation, to groups advocating secession. Clearly this range of goals crosses the ostensible categorical divide between ethnic groups and nations, yet this continuum appears a reasonable one. Furthermore, as Miroslav Hroch argues, this range of goals may be a function of the level of mobilization of a group rather than qualitative categorical differences: a single group may, over the course of its history, adopt different goals and strategies without transforming into something qualitatively new (2000, 22-24;

Smith 1981, 24).

21 More recently the term “ethnopolitics” has come into use to reflect the broad

spectrum of behavior and goals short of seeking independence: “[ethnopolitics]

encompasses aspirations short of the creation of a nation-state and the congruence of

culture with polity. Further, the concept of ethnopolitics has the advantage of

including politics that are not conflictual; although ethnopolitics can be conflictual, it

can also be cooperative (Ishyama and Breuning 1998, 3-4)”.6 While these scholars

continue to differentiate between ethnopolitical and nationalist mobilization, by

incorporating a wider range of activities a larger number of groups are encompassed.

While this broader spectrum of political activity and goals brings together a

potentially wide array of groups, determining varying levels of “ethnopolitical

mobilization” becomes more difficult. Even when group mobilization is presented as a continuum, factions within a single group may pursue different strategies reflecting different goals. As a result, many studies rely on data reflecting the more mobilized end of the spectrum: mass protest and / or votes for ethnic political parties. Yet while expediency and ease of data collection may justify this narrow focus, significant

insights into the broader phenomenon may be sacrificed.

Ethnopolitical mobilization: a survey of the literature

The difficulties regarding determinations of ethnic groups and what activities

constitute mobilization are considerable and consume the energy of a significant

portion of the literature. Interestingly, many studies of ethnicity and nationalism

problematize identity formation; political mobilization is either a criterion for

inclusion in the study or frequently assumed as a matter of course. However, some

6 See also Rothschild 1981, 8 and Gurr 2000, 5-6.

22 analyses focus on the factors impacting ethnopolitical mobilization distinct from the emergence and salience of ethnic identity, even when these issues of classification have not been absolutely resolved. Generally, the literature on the political mobilization of ethnic identity falls into two broad categories: those who argue that ethnic identities will give way to national ones, and those who find that ethnicity has real staying power despite the pressures of the “melting-pot”.

The former represents the older tradition, based on Marx and Durkheim but perhaps best exemplified by Karl Deutsch:

A decisive factor in national assimilation or differentiation was found to be the fundamental process of social mobilization which accompanies the growth of markets, industries, and towns, and eventually of literacy and mass communication (1966: 188).

For Deutsch and others, ethnic identity emerges as technology makes individuals aware of group differences, either directly through increased communication networks or indirectly by bringing individuals from disparate groups together in common arenas, such as the industrial workplace. Although in the short run significant differences may lead to conflict (Deutsch 1961: 501), ethnic individuals are compelled, through further capitalist development, to soon surrender their particularistic identity to larger national identities as a result both of the capitalist experience (in which people from diverse regions migrate to urban centers and work

side-by-side, using the national language as the common medium) and state efforts to

further capitalist expansion by inculcating a national identity. Economic

development, therefore, generates ethnicity, initially amplifying the sense of

difference between groups, but eventually serving to assimilate sub-groups into the

larger identity.

23 Other scholars, while agreeing with the analysis of Deutsch and the assimilationists more broadly, point instead to the efforts of governments to homogenize their populations as critical in understanding the trajectory of ethnic mobilization. While the range of such strategies runs from ethnic cleansing to facilitating the redrawing of boundaries, neither of which is today considered desirable as policy goals, these analyses tend more to focus on the assimilation strategies governments undertake, referred to as building the “state-nation” (Rejai and

Enloe 1969, 143). Such efforts may include the establishment of an official language or religion, the adoption of the cultural symbols of one group as state symbols, and the use of state-controlled means of socialization (radio, television, education) to advance a particular identity (Linz and Stepan 1996, 28-9). “Nationalizing state policies”, while not seen as inevitably successful, are viewed as critical to state integrity, democracy, and capitalist development.7 Thus for many scholars sub- national ethnic identities are seen as at least potentially transitory, with capitalism or state policies eventually homogenizing the national populace.

However, in 1972 Walker Conner published some dramatic findings: of 132 existing states, only 9% could be described as homogenous, with another 19% having a single ethnic group in excess of 90% of the population (1994: 29). At the other extreme, Connor found 30% of extant states had no ethnic majority and 40% of all states were comprised of at least five ethnic groups. Even in cases in Western

Europe, where the factors emphasized by assimilationists had been in place the longest, ethnic diversity persisted and mobilization appeared to be on the increase.

As a result, a number of scholars began to rethink the hypothesis that ethnic sub-

7 Linz and Stepan 1996, 21-29.

24 cultures would fade, finding instead that development may serve to increase the

saliency of ethnic identity, not merely in the short-term due to increased awareness of

ethnic differences posited by Deutsch, but over longer periods as a result of factors

intrinsic to development itself.

As stated in the introduction, the dominant model exploring this ethnopolitical

mobilization asserts that, at their base, these movements are economic in nature.

Most accounts argue that where economic disparities between ethnic regions and the

national “core” are pronounced, ethnic groups will mobilize. The prevalence of

uneven regional economic development in capitalism would seem to provide

significant support for these approaches.

Perhaps the simplest formulation of this model is that of “internal

colonialism”, popularized by Michael Hechter. For Hechter, where economically

backward regional boundaries coincide with an ethnic identity, mobilization for

improved economic conditions will emphasize ethnic rather than class identity.

However, while economic equalization might, therefore, be desirable in contributing

to social harmonization, these peripheral areas serve as “internal colonies” and the subordination of the regions to the core becomes entrenched as labor becomes

culturally divided, with the poorer regions representing areas of less-skilled labor. As

a result, elites from these areas have few opportunities to penetrate the political

hegemony of the center (Hechter 1999, 39-42). This approach attempts to account for

the salience of ethnic identity; mobilization appears relatively automatic.

Models labeled “relative economic deprivation” represent a related line of

argument, although the emphasis is placed on economic factors impacting

25 mobilization rather than identity salience. From this perspective, ethnic groups suffering from perceived economic backwardness when compared to some standard, such as core areas in the country or some expected level of development, will mobilize in an attempt to rectify this imbalance through domestic policies (Gurr 1970;

Runciman, 1966). The ethnic group is not so much a function of relative deprivation; rather, it represents a basis for political support to address economic maldevelopment.

A third model follows Deutsch, but argues that increased contact between ethnic groups under conditions of capitalist development will not eventually assimilate; rather, inter-group conflict increases and persists. These conflictual models, such as that of Smith (1981a), agree with the assumptions and logic of the economic development models, but find that ethnic elites are unable to penetrate the political structures dominated by the national group, similar to Hechter’s argument.

However, the conflictual model differs from internal colonialism in that it finds ethnicity to be stimulated by the failure of these elites to penetrate the core, after which they return to their ethnic groups to mobilize for institutional change (Smith

1981a: 125-8).

A fourth line of argument expands the notion of economic discrimination to include ethnic regions which are more economically advanced than the core; in this formulation, the relative success of some ethnic regions leads elites to mobilize for the retention of their relative gains rather than “subsidizing” the remainder of the country. Such an approach would incorporate relatively affluent groups, such as the

Basques and Catalans in Spain, in addition to the more extensive universe of cases captured by the relative economic deprivation model. Thus the critical factor

26 becomes the magnitude of economic disparity between the national core and an ethnic

periphery, rather than simply the relative backwardness of the latter.8

As stated in the Introduction, models focusing on economic factors impacting

ethnic mobilization represent the dominant literature. However, there are two other

general models of mobilization to be considered. First among these are competition models, such as that outlined by Suzan Olzak (1992) and Joseph Rothschild (1981), which argue that ethnic mobilization is an attempt by elites to generate mass support for their bid for political power. Mobilization may be generated by competition among ethnic groups for particular sectors of employment; however, the emphasis by either economic or political competition models is on the dynamics of competition on mobilizing ethnic identity (Olzak and Nagel 1986, 9). Ethnic identity can be seen, therefore, as a potential base of political power used by elites unable to generate alternate sources of support.

A second alternative approach focuses on ethnic mobilization as a series of phases in which ethnic identity is made increasingly salient by activists. Lefèvre

(1979) outlines one such model, but perhaps the best known is that of Miroslav Hroch

(2000). He argues that ethnic movements begin as small cultural organizations, especially literary movements, dedicated to promoting the production of literature in the minority language. These disparate groups may under certain conditions come to represent a political base for ethnic entrepreneurs, who advocate special provisions for the group based on the difference in identity. Under some conditions, political elites are able to generate mass support for their positions, shifting from advocates for particular accommodations to explicit representatives of the ethnic group (Hroch

8 See, for example, Gurr’s discussion of economic advantage and disadvantage (2000, 108-109).

27 2000, 14-17, 25-30). Ethnic groups are unproblematic, but mobilization represents a long historical trajectory with different requirements for increasing mobilization at different stages. This argument, while not necessarily incompatible with the other approaches, finds economic variation or competition as neither necessary nor sufficient for the political mobilization of ethnicity.

Criticisms of the broader literature

Given the apparent stickiness of ethnic identity despite, in some cases, decades of economic development and governmental assimilationist policies, some scholars explore ethnicity as a latent, if seemingly long-lasting, source of political mobilization. Prominent among these accounts are theses relating uneven capitalist development to the mobilization of ethnic identity. When uneven development intersects with an ethnic boundary, ethnic mobilization is the likely response.

However, the broad model relating economic development to ethnic mobilization suffers a series of fundamental flaws. First, various models have been posited which articulate a variety of rationales underlying the argued relationship.

Usually, when a region suffers from economic development worse than what might be expected, perhaps because of the relatively better conditions in other regions, group mobilization occurs. However, some models argue that this is likely in regions at the greatest level of economic disadvantage. Others demonstrate that mobilization actually occurs when economic growth is raising the fortunes of the group, rather than when they are at their nadir, thus generating political activism. Some suggest mobilization as a preemptive action to forestall the potential erosion of economic power. And finally, some theorists suggest that when regions are relatively

28 successful mobilization occurs to protect and increase those gains. Thus ethnic

mobilization occurs when groups are at their economic peak or bottom, or when their

fortunes are improving or declining; barring relatively even economic development and regardless of the particular context, therefore, ethnic mobilization will occur where ethnic groups exist.

The variety of theories highlighted above is a function of the ubiquitousness

of uneven capitalist development. Only the smallest economic units can hope to have

perfectly even rates of development. Thus, wherever one looks one finds uneven

development of one type or another and, therefore, uneven development always

correlates with ethnic mobilization. As a result, the model yields little in overall

analytic value.

A second problem with economic models lies with their assumptions. First,

while there is an emphasis on uneven interregional development, each region is

assumed to develop at the same rate. Unfortunately for the theory, this is only true

for the smallest of regions: frequently, areas within a single ethnic territory vary

widely in terms of economic development; as a result, the causal logic for ethnic

mobilization does not hold for all parts of the group. Second, there is an assumption

that people are aware of uneven economic development to such an extent that they

will mobilize. While this might be a more reasonable assumption with modern

communication technology, there is no evidence to suggest that groups which

mobilize prior to such inventions were cognizant of the relative economic deprivation

of their area, nor that uneven economic development should be attributable to their

29 ethnicity; it may be true, however, that ethnic elites of mobilized groups will seize on

uneven development and attempt to promote it as an issue justifying their activity.

A third problem with the broader literature lies in the treatment of political

mobilization as dichotomous. Even in studies using electoral support for ethnic

political parties, groups without political parties, rather than being considered at the

lowest level of mobilization (i.e. that electoral support is zero), are simply excluded

from the study. This bias is most evident in the exclusion of ethnic groups in France,

where ethnic political parties tend not to form or last, from most comparative studies

of Western Europe. However, of all advanced capitalist democracies France has the

largest number of territorial ethnic groups; furthermore, accommodation of these

groups is a significant political debate within France today, causing many within

France even to rethink what it means to be French.

Furthermore, studies focusing on ethnic political parties usually fail to

incorporate the considerable theoretical literature surrounding electoral support for

political parties. In many cases votes for ethnic parties may represent protest votes rather than support for ethnic movements. Conversely, voters supportive of ethnic

mobilization may, in some systems, be reluctant to “waste” their vote on small parties

with limited bases for support, or may vote for other parties based on the salience of

other issues. Studies measuring political mobilization expressed as voter support

should be informed by these issues, yet the overwhelming tendency is to equate voter

support with ethnic mobilization or, at a minimum, for changes in voter support as

evidence in changes in relative ethnic mobilization.

30 The reliance on economic data and electoral support generates an additional weakness in the broader literature: eschewing history. Given that reliable historical data on sub-national economic development is difficult, if not impossible, to obtain, it is perhaps not surprising that analyses limit themselves to recent years. Furthermore, the equation of political mobilization with increased support for ethnic political parties, which rose dramatically in Western Europe in the 1960s, understandably narrows the timeframe under consideration.

An additional problem with the literature lies in the failure to take into account the context of a national identity and its impact on ethnic mobilization. The nationalism literature tends to focus on groups that eventually established states for themselves, generally out of earlier political and ideational contexts. Conversely, studies of ethnic groups tend to treat them as if in an identity vacuum, whose mobilization is a function of group (or elite) resources.9 However, at least in the

Western context ethnic groups attempting to mobilize politically do so within an environment of a pre-established national identity that seeks to assimilate ethnic identities rather than heighten their differentiation. The mobilization of group identity against a larger identity may generate its own peculiarities, yet the literature tends not to take this into account.

Interestingly, while some of the literature differentiates between ethnic elites and masses, especially with regards to the construction of ethnicity or the mobilization of mass support for elite political power, the literature implicitly assumes a relatively similar direction of intra-group mobilization: while leaders lead,

31 there is a general sense that the group as a whole is moving in the same general

direction. However, the experience in Western Europe was altogether different.

Elites from all parts of the country were among the first to assimilate into the national

identity and language of their respective states, usually early during the territorial

expansion of the state. Later, however, elites of many groups responded to

nineteenth-century Romantic ideas of preserving languages and promoting literature as part of an effort to reify ethnic identity; conversely, towards the end of the same

period the masses increasingly assimilated, largely due to education policies. Thus

elites assimilated while the masses retained their ethnic differentiation, then elites

increasingly sought differentiation precisely at the time that the masses were

assimilating in increasingly large numbers. Only recently have the two trajectories

been in relative agreement. Studies focusing solely on elite behavior or on mass

mobilization necessarily miss this unexpected nuance, which may play an important

role in understanding state policies towards their minorities and elite attempts to

counteract those policies.

The approach of this study

The myriad of weaknesses in the existing literature are too many to be

resolved by any one work, including this study. However, by taking these problems

into consideration, many of them may either be avoided or addressed through

research design. Given the problems with the existing literature outlined above, this

study will approach the issue from a narrow regional focus, building a theoretical

9 Enloe (1973) and others argue that the pre-existing nationalism in the West spurred ethnic “subnationalism” in former colonies, but the literature on ethnopolitical mobilization within the West does not address this dimension.

32 argument based on a relatively small number of cases with significant similarities.

The first cut is to look for conditions that meet the criteria of the functionalist / assimilationist school of thought as cases in which mobilization should be “difficult”: advanced capitalist democracies.10 As Connor convincingly proved, ethnic groups in

these countries are indeed mobilizing over long periods of time and at increasing rates; narrowing the focus on these “most difficult” cases may yield significant

insight into the factors involved.

Definitions:

y “National minorities” as the units of analysis

The problem of conceptual overlap outlined by Oommen represents a

significant concern. This study focuses on groups that are most familiarly understood

as “indigenous minorities”.11 As outlined above, the phenomenon in question is the

political mobilization of groups distinguished by their ethnicity from the “national”

identity. As will be shown below, what differentiates these two categories is not

particular features, such as claim to territory or sense of inclusion, but rather that one

identity is promoted by the state and the other is articulated in opposition to that

“state-nation” identity.

Given the lack of consensus regarding definitive elements of ethnicity, this

study will take a different tack. When scholars examine the Western European

10 This strategy counters the potential claim that ethnic mobilization is occurring because assimilationist conditions have not yet been realized. 11 While not problematic for this study, numerous groups that could reasonably be included in this study would not fit the precise definition of indigenous minority. Two examples serve to illustrate the point: 1) the Quebeçois in Canada, who are not indigenous, are often studied in comparison to some of the groups studied here; 2) the Flemish in Belgium, who represent a demographic majority but have historically been the subordinate group. A more precise definition would perhaps be “ethno-territorial

33 landscape, it becomes readily apparent that ethnic groups seeking to realize

institutional accommodation within their respective states share, overwhelmingly, two

defining characteristics: a historical territory and at least one distinct language

(however little used). Not all such groups mobilize politically and there is significant

variation among those groups that do mobilize. The predominance of these two

features is perhaps surprising in light of the findings outlined in Table 1-1: territory is

one of the more frequently cited criteria, although not enjoying the frequency of

culture or the priority of common descent, while language is referred to less often and

only by older works. However, these two criteria represent the defining

characteristics for the groups to be considered here.

That groups most clearly defined by these two criteria would mobilize

politically is, perhaps, not surprising. In many respects a distinct language and

territory represent two key features of Western European states (with Switzerland

ever the exception) during the consolidation of the nation-state, and groups within

these states with these characteristics are the most likely to try and claim rights based

on the same logics as the national groups. However, this study will show that other

factors are of central importance to ethnic entrepreneurs: Chapter 6 will evaluate

many of the elements in Table 1-1 to assess their relationship to ethnic mobilization.

This study excludes groups that meet only one of these two criteria.

Interestingly, regional groups claiming territory but not linguistically distinct from the

national group have emerged arguing for rights similar to ethnicities, perhaps

implying that territorial claims carry more weight than linguistic differentiation in

subculture”, reflecting the relationship between ethnicity and territory and the subordinate position of the identity in question.

34 political mobilization. In some cases, such as the Andalusians in Spain and the

Northern League in Italy, these movements appear to be enjoying increasingly

significant support. This study excludes these groups, however, on two grounds.

First, regionalist movements appear to be very recent and very few in number; as a result, including them in a historical study of territorial movements would yield little

additional information. Second, and perhaps more importantly, these groups appear

to be a function of the relative successes of ethnic groups. As will be shown in the

Spanish case (Chapter 4), elites of the regional movements are undertaking strategies

similar to those of ethnic groups, including the articulation of regional literature,

cuisine, history, and culture, in an attempt to lay claim to similar rights as ethnic

movements. Therefore, understanding the mobilization and success of ethnic

movements sheds light on some of the dynamics of regional movements.

Non-territorial groups with distinctive languages represent the other category

of related groups excluded here. In Western Europe, the largest of these groups are

Jews, Roma (Gypsies), and Armenians. However, despite centuries of residence in

their locales, these groups tend historically not to make demands for particular

accommodation of their identity by the state, perhaps as a function of racist attitudes

in their home countries or the lack of a territorial base as part of their identity and

facilitating group cohesion. Instead, when these groups extend demands on the state,

these petitions are normally for equal treatment, in part based on their long-time

residence in the country.

Immigrant groups resemble these linguistic communities in terms of

distinguishing characteristics. As with the long-time non-territorial communities,

35 these groups tend also, when they articulate demands at all, to press assimilationist claims. It seems, therefore, that immigrant and non-territorial linguistic groups are qualitatively different from ethnic movements with regards to their potential threat to national institutions and identity.

Selecting groups on the dimensions of language and territory is not, however, merely the decision of this study: European thought and institutions implicitly adopt exactly these criteria when referring, in numerous treaties and protocols, to “national minorities”. While a precise definition of the term is difficult to ascertain, the groups to whom these various instruments have been applied share two characteristics in particular: (1) a language distinct from the dominant one and (2) an historical claim to territory. Employing this functional definition to determine the groups to be considered in this study does not negate the significance of the larger debate surrounding determinations of ethnicity and nation; rather, this study seeks to move beyond that potential quagmire to explore political mobilization. By adopting the relatively unproblematic term used in Europe to refer to these groups, efforts toward explaining the phenomenon in question can be undertaken. y Ethnopolitical mobilization

As outlined above, potential political activities undertaken by groups representing national minorities can be seen as a continuum from cultural activism through interest groups and political parties working within the existing state to efforts towards political independence. Separating movements along this dimension between ethnic groups and nations in such works as Smith (1981a) and others may, in fact, be unnecessarily truncating the potential universe of cases. Other studies

36 focusing only on the behavior of ethnic political parties also capture only a small segment of potential groups, with a clear selection bias towards groups already mobilized at relatively high levels. In both cases, selecting groups based on their level of mobilization or political goals may bias the findings and certainly excludes similar groups from consideration.

As stated above, this study does not select groups based on their level of mobilization; indeed, over the course of the past two centuries mobilization itself varies considerably. For the purposes of this study, the entire continuum of ethnic activism attempting to realize specific accommodations to preserve group distinctiveness will be considered “ethnopolitical mobilization” capturing both the breadth of the term used by Ishiyama and Breuning as well as goals commonly seen as “nationalist” rather than “ethnic”. This should facilitate comparisons of

mobilization among national minorities where other studies divide this universe.

Case-selection strategies

Unlike much of the literature, this study of ethnic mobilization limits itself to

Western European groups. One argument for doing so would be to reduce the

number of potential variables involved in explaining ethnic mobilization. By

selecting groups broadly sharing historical, economic, and political contexts, a focus

on a relatively few number of factors these contexts do not share may be possible.

Given that statistical data over long periods of time (necessary to evaluate the long

trajectory of ethnopolitical mobilization) are not available and, as a result, a large-N

37 approach is not viable, reducing the number of factors to be explored becomes a

central concern.12

However, a second, more compelling reason for limiting the scope of this

study to Western Europe exists: these ethnic groups are qualitatively different from

other groups, for two distinct reasons. First, unlike ethnic groups in other regions or

racial groups in North America, Australia, and New Zealand, adopting an ethnic

identity is relatively optional in most Western European states; indeed, taking such an

identity as the basis for ethnic mobilization tends to be a political act, given the

historical policies within those states to inculcate a contrary, national identity through

various assimilationist strategies. Because ethnicity is “optional” for most of these

groups, it may be necessary to treat these movements separate from the larger

universe of “ethnicity” cases.

The second feature differentiating Western European ethnicities from such

groups more generally is the central role that intellectuals play, not only in political mobilization but in attempting to preserve and extend a distinctive identity clearly on the wane. As will be shown in Chapter 2, the interest of 19th century intellectuals in dying languages and their associated stories and songs caused them to attempt to preserve these artifacts in the face of national assimilation. These entrepreneurs began by creating literary movements, and then sought to encourage the use of the ethnic language by its “people”, increasing numbers of whom had begun to abandon the language and ethnic markers in favor of the national identity. Thus, unlike ethnic groups generally, which seem to be much more akin to racial categories in the United

12 There are other coding issues as well, such as the cumulativity of policies towards national minorities in any single country and the comparability of that cumulativity across countries, that render

38 States, ethnic identity in Western Europe is expressly a result of intellectual efforts to

preserve the identity and is adopted by individuals primarily on a voluntary basis and

against powerful assimilationist forces.

Within Western Europe are a considerable variety of cases reflecting

significant variation in ethnic mobilization and national institutions. As a result, this study will look at cases in which ethnic mobilization appears to be a difficult proposition: France, Spain, and the United Kingdom.13 All of these cases share

significant features that should inhibit ethnic mobilization. First, ethnicities account

for a minority of the overall population; presumably very large ethnic groups will be

more likely to mobilize around their identity than comparatively small ones. Second,

these three represent some of the oldest nation-states with long historical trajectories

of national identities and institutions; thus ethnic mobilization must struggle against

well-entrenched national contexts. Third, much of the territorial conquest of ethnic

regions occurred well before the Enlightenment and French Revolution, when the

ideas of national self-determination first gained widespread expression; assimilation

has, therefore, had the opportunity to succeed over centuries. Fourth, each of these

states has multiple ethnicities, facilitating both inter- and intra-state comparisons.

Finally, despite the numerous similarities between these three states, there are

variations both in notions of national identity and in institutions and policies over

time, facilitating the development of a richer explanation of the political mobilization

of ethnicity. Selecting these three difficult cases enables a rigorous analysis of the

formal modeling questionable as an overall approach for this project. 13 Unlike other potential cases, in which proponents of the assimilationist argument might posit that their necessary conditions had not yet been met, certainly France and the United Kingdom represent

39 factors facilitating or inhibiting ethnopolitical mobilization over long historical

trajectories.

National identity as a determinant of national minority policy

One method for exploring the determinants of national minority policies and

the related treatment of national minorities is to provide a chronological account of

various policies, then to articulate causes and effects of the various policies. This

approach lends itself to individual case-studies, providing sufficient detail for an

understanding of that case. However, this study seeks to establish an analytical

framework to facilitate comparing the cases of France, Spain, and the United

Kingdom by emphasizing the particular nature of national identity in each case and

how national identity shapes national minority policy.

There are a variety of dimensions on which to compare national identities.

One of the more common approaches is to evaluate each identity along a spectrum of

citizenship, from civic to ethnic. This approach focuses on how individuals become

associated with the national identity. A pure civic notion, such as that articulated by

Rousseau, although with historical roots in Greek and Roman thought (Geary

2002:41-52), was that anyone could conceivably become part of “the people” through

an acceptance of and adherence to particular values. The ideal ethnic citizenship is a

function of being born into a particular group, regardless of ones political values.

Frequently these polar types are associated, respectively, with 19th century France and

Germany (Brubaker 1992: 1-3). Both civic and ethnic citizenship must be seen as

examples where those conditions had long been realized. While Spanish economic development has lagged behind the other two cases, it still clearly represents an advanced case.

40 ideal types; in practice it may be both reasonable and useful to evaluate the relative

position of a national identity at any particular time along this dimension.

A second, and less-frequently articulated, possibility is to evaluate whether the

national identity is compatible with sub-national identities, understood as a

“compound nationality” (Moreno 2001: 5), or if the national identity views sub-

national identities as illegitimate in a “zero-sum” or “either-or” formulation. Clearly

such a dimension should also be informative regarding the potential for the

preservation of national minority identity within a national identity.

Table 1-2: Comparison of National Identities National Sub-national France Civic — Spain Ethnic Ethnic United Kingdom Civic Ethnic

Table 1-2 compares the national identity of the three states under

consideration in this study. The variation among the three cases reinforces their selection for comparative analysis. Furthermore, by emphasizing the nature of national identity over the particularities of national minority policy, this study will illustrate both the functional and the ideational contexts within which groups attempt to mobilize.

Finally, all national minorities within each of these three cases are included for analysis in Chapter 6. This reduces problems of selection-bias in the study, at

least in terms of the three countries considered here, and yields additional findings of value in developing a model of ethnopolitical mobilization. The surprising variation in characteristics of these groups should yield interesting findings with regards to the relationship between features of ethnicity and their impact on mobilization.

41 Overall, therefore, this study seeks to build a model of ethnic mobilization that includes factors stemming from culture, national identity, and political institutions at both the national and Western European level and how these “opportunity structures” interact with the particularities of different ethnic groups. When viewed over time, ethnic mobilization appears to reflect Hroch’s model of phases of mobilization, although the linearity of that model will be shown to not apply to all groups at all times. Intellectual currents, the nature of national identity, and formal institutions all represent a comprehensive context directly influencing the probability of ethnic mobilization.

42 Chapter 2: European Thought and Institutions – The Evolving Supra-national Context

Introduction

In the introductory chapter it was asserted that there has been a general trend

in Western Europe of ethnic identity declining and then reemerging as a source of

political mobilization. This chapter will outline this trend in greater detail and explore the factors and processes generating this generalized dynamic. What will be

shown is that changes in ideas and institutions in Western Europe can be tied to the

19th century decline and post-World War II resurgence in ethnopolitical mobilization;

more specifically, European thought and institutions represent the normative and

functional context in which national minority policies, political activity, and even the

legitimacy of sub-national identity and action play out in the broader dynamic of

mobilization.14

Before proceeding to an analysis of Western European thought and

institutions regarding the politicization of ethnicity, the general pattern needs to be

more clearly articulated. The notion that legitimate political authority flows from a

“people”, liberalism’s conceptualization of popular sovereignty, represents a marked

shift from centuries of European thought and can reasonably be seen as the ultimate

source of ethnopolitical mobilization. Nineteenth-century liberalism asserted the

necessity of cultural assimilation to achieve homogeneity within each state on either

strictly majoritarian or practical grounds. As a result, ethnic identity and the use of

local languages declined dramatically over the course of the 19th and early 20th

14 The full model of ethnopolitical mobilization is outlined in the Conclusion. See Figure 6-4 for a graphic representation of the model.

43 century as policies of assimilation, border adjustment, and population transfers were

undertaken.

However, the logic of liberal nationalism, extended geographically through

Napoleonic conquest and energized via the growth of Romanticism, led to a renewed

interest in sub-national identities by intellectuals, who as a sub-group had been among the earliest to be assimilated, at precisely the same time that most of the members of these groups were being assimilated. These ethnic entrepreneurs struggled to preserve, then to promote, local languages, literatures, and music, and

also began to argue for political rights to protect the distinctive identity of the group.

Also at this time, the weakening of the multi-national empires in Eastern

Europe resulted, in part, in the extension of the principle of self-determination for

culturally distinct groups in successor states in the region but without similar

provisions being made for such groups in the West. Decolonization following World

War II served to further highlight this “hypocrisy” and, as international institutions

began to reestablish principles of minority rights and in the case of the European

Union institutions and resources for sub-national groups, the efforts of the ethnic entrepreneurs began to yield results in increased mass support for the local identity.

Thus the drive to homogenize existing nation-states was, to varying degrees, fairly successful, but elite Romantic resistance to this effort began to realize popular support after World War II.

Pre-Enlightenment Europe

The novelty of Enlightenment thought regarding identity and sovereignty can be best understood only in comparison to the thinking of the era that preceded it. The

44 Late Middle Ages represented a distinctly different sense of identity, derived both from the universalistic, and therefore non-territorial, pretensions of the Catholic

Church and Holy Roman Empire and from local allegiance to a particular feudal ruler.15 Political sovereignty was ultimately a function of a divine rather than natural right. While smaller ethnic identities existed, their salience was considerably less than a Christian identity and was in no way linked to political rights (Hayes 1931, 3).

In the period immediately preceding the Enlightenment the major defining characteristic of groups was religion, although notions of ethnic differentiation were also present.16 While there were no international institutions regarding minorities during this period, a series of treaties illuminates the centrality of religion to identity and, not incidentally, to group rights concerning government. The Edict of Nantes

(1598), viewed as a seminal case in this regard, made provisions for French Calvinists

(Huguenots) throughout France to practice their religion and operate schools, albeit only in specified locations (Alcock 2000, 6-7). In addition to the Treaty of

Westphalia (1644), the treaties of Oliva (1660), Nijmegen (1678), Ryswick (1697),

15 Armstrong notes, however, that there is some debate as to the relationship between heresies, which served to undermine Catholic universalism of the Middle Ages, and ethnic identity (1982, 204-205). As will be seen in Chapter 3, French expansion into the Langue d’Oc region was as a crusade to stamp out the Arian heresy, whose frontier generally followed the linguistic boundary and served, therefore, to provide a distinctive identity for the people in the region from their linguistic kin to the north. Geary notes that Arianism was a defining characteristic of Ostrogothic identity that served to differentiate them from the Gallo-Roman aristocracy in the sixth century; later, the conversions of Hermenigild and Reccared, sons of Ostragothic King Leovigild, to Catholicism were used explicitly to promote assimilation between the Gothic ruling class and the Gallo-Romans (Geary 2002, 132-3). Thus where the universalism of the Catholic Church was questioned, heretical and ethnic identity could reinforce each other. 16 Interestingly, ethnic divisions were frequently used to differentiate, and justify, the rule of the aristocracy as descendents of the conquering Germanic tribes. In Revolutionary France this argument was both turned on its head and discounted by Abbé Sieyès: “Why should one not send back into the Frankish forests all the families who maintain the foolish pretension of descending from the race of the conquerors and inheriting their rights? Should there be any distinction between birth and birth, then the descendants of the Gauls and the Romans would at least be equal to those of primitive and barbaric Germanic tribes. But, in reality, the races cannot be distinguished in France. Their blood has so

45 Utrecht (1713), Dresden (1745), Hubertusburg (1763), and Paris (1763) each made

provisions for the protection of religious minorities despite their transference from

one power to another as a result of the settlements, although it must be emphasized

that these stipulations were based not on a sense of intrinsic minority rights but rather

as sovereign concessions in the “interests of international peace and stability”

(Jackson Preece 1998: 56-8). What is critical, therefore, is that “ethnic groups” would have been, at best, a vague notion prior to the Enlightenment and that there was no clear conceptualization of ethnic groups having political rights.

However, Armstrong argues:

[O]ne may conclude that the strongest effect of the Reformation and Counter-Reformation on ethnicity was the heightening of awareness of its linguistic component… the strongest manifestations of concern for the vernaculars arose not as special features of Protestantism or Catholicism as such, but as artifacts of the struggle between the two religious movements (1982, 232).

Hastings (1997) points to a variety of Middle Age references referring to groups defined primarily by language, concluding that these identities were largely in place, although not preeminent, by the fifteenth century.17 Thus while it may be correct that

religious cleavages were the most salient source of group identification in Western

Europe during this period, linguistic variation represented an alternative schema for

sub-dividing people that may have become increasingly important precisely because

of the breakdown of Catholic universalism.

intermingled that the ancestors of the Third Estate are the fathers of the whole nation (quoted in Kohn 1967: 27). For an extended discussion, see Geary 2002, Chapter 1. 17 He cites two descriptions at length. “Enea Silfio Piccolomini, who became Pope as Pius II… (w)riting in 1458… ‘For just as the Germans hate the Italians for this reason (money-grubbing), so the Hungarians hate the Germans… The Poles have the same grievance, so do the Danes and the Swedes.’ … An anonymous late fourteenth-century Englishman… argues, there should be ‘bookis of her moder tongue, to Frensche men bokis of Frensche, to Ytaliens bokis of Latyne corrupte, to Duche men bokis

46 In addition to shifting notions of the defining characteristics of minority

groups, the Renaissance also saw the transformation of political organization from

non-territorial medieval sovereignties, based on both personal, particularistic

allegiances and the on universalistic pretensions of the Catholic Church and Holy

Roman Empire, to territorially-delimited states.18 This shift, often demarked by the

Treaty of Westphalia but in reality a function of a variety of treaties ending with

Utrecht, changed the fundamental basis of the relationship between the state and its

inhabitants, both minorities and majorities, recognizing the necessity of a link

between the two by way of geography (Jackson Preece 1998: 55-6). These two

concurrent trends, the decreasing salience of religion as the definitive social cleavage

and the increasing centrality of politics as territorial space, would shape the

emergence of nation-states and their conceptualization of minorities during the Era of

Revolutions.

The Enlightenment and Ethnic Nationalism: the “state”, the “people”, and geography

The Enlightenment response to the solidification of the territorial state as the dominant political arrangement in Western Europe, epitomized by Rousseau but with earlier connections to Locke among others, was that state sovereignty was not a function of territory per se, but rather emanated from the people occupying the territory, as the provisions for minority religious practices make clear. Legitimacy

Duche, to Englische men bokis of Englische.’(1997: 117).” These identities bear a remarkable resemblance to the list of national states in Western Europe today, despite their early dates. 18 Spryut (1994) argues, in contrast to others such as Tilly (1975), that the rise of the territorial state was by no means automatic or inevitable; indeed, he articulates two less explicitly territorial options, the city-league and the city-state, which represented viable and initially more powerful alternatives to the territorial state as forms of political organization. In the end, it was particular conditions of Late

47 was derived from the direct and intimate expression of political will by the

community in the form of the sovereign state (Rousseau 1968: 63). Therefore, the

only legitimate governments were those who ruled by the consent of the governed,

not through claims to authority based on genealogy (Locke 1988: 50-51).

An issue central to the concept of popular sovereignty lay with the need to

identify who the “people” were that could generate a legitimate state. Rousseau

himself was rather vague in this regard. His discussion of the Social Pact and the

Sovereign in Book 1 of The Social Contract outlines the principle of a voluntary

contract between the individual and the State and that this association generates the

people:

Immediately, in place of the individual person of each contracting party, this act of association creates an artificial and corporate body composed of as many members as there are voters in the assembly, and by this same act that body acquires its unity, its common ego, its life and its will (61).

The “people” therefore appear as a voluntary association in which each individual has

separately made an (explicit or implicit) contract to be governed. This concept of a

group as an association was not unique to Rousseau, however; it is related to a longer

tradition of civic nationalism found in Roman thought and law, in which a desire to

be part of the political community and a willingness to adhere to its laws represents

the essence of citizenship (Geary 2002: 49-50).

Additionally, Rousseau appears to have in mind the relatively small political

units necessary to permit direct democracy. The small size of these groups would

allow for personal connections between all members. “Imagined communities” of the

Medieval Europe which favored the strengths of the territorial state over these other forms. See especially Chapter 8.

48 kind articulated by Benedict Anderson (1991: 5-7), in which a sense of community is

engendered among individuals not intimately in contact with one another, would

therefore be unnecessary and potentially antithetical to Rousseau’s ideas.

However, Rousseau also asserts that the “people” exist as nations prior to their

self-organization through the social contract, a seeming contradiction both to his earlier argument and to the interpretation of French Jacobins during the Revolution

(1968: 88). He argues that nations have varying degrees of maturity which determine the types of political associations most appropriate for them. In part due to this variation, individuals of distinct groups may not be compatible enough to be included

in the same state.19 One effect of a strong social bond as the basis of popular

sovereignty in conjunction with the organizational principle of direct democracy was

that, for Rousseau, political units would necessarily be relatively small (1968: 90).

Thus the “people”, which seem to be an unspecified combination of preexisting

empirical factors and a general will to associate among a limited number of

individuals, generate their state rather than the state forming a people.

A German contemporary of Rousseau exploring the idea of a “people” more

explicitly, albeit not in a context of developing a political theory, was Johann

Gottfried Herder. For Herder, language represented the most essential mechanism of

interpersonal connection. Each language represented the bonds that unite individuals

in a community more than just through communication: language represented the

repository of collective experience, in that each language developed as a function of

19 It should be noted that Rousseau does not seem to preclude the notion of a state creating its people; the Censorial Tribunal and, especially, the development of a Civil Religion express a clear role for the state shaping the popular will (174-187). However, it appears that the emphasis is on a preexisting people, whether associative or ascriptive, creating a state rather than the reverse.

49 the group’s history. In this way, the centrality of language to group identity was that

it conveyed memory and culture, demarking who shared those factors from others.

It is difficult to overestimate the impact of Herder on the increasing centrality of language to group identity in Western European thought. While his efforts were largely on behalf of his native German, at the time considered a rough, primitive tongue ill-suited to science, literature, or philosophy, the logic of his arguments applied to all linguistic groups. In this light it is perhaps less surprising, therefore, to find that Herder was profoundly egalitarian with regard to different languages: every language has intrinsic value and should be preserved and practiced by its community.

While he did not argue that each language was entitled to its own political organization, each language did deserve equal protection. More importantly for the purposes of this study, Herder forcefully argued that each language represents a natural community, or people.

There is, therefore, no immediate connection between Rousseau and Herder other than that the former was concerned about government, which arose from a people, and the latter was focused on what characteristics differentiate a people.

However, both thinkers pointed to a common determinant of their subjects of analysis: geography. Both argued that geography shaped and helped determine the boundaries of states, in the case of Rousseau, and peoples, for Herder. From this perspective there is a certain “naturalness” to both linguistic groups and states.

Mountains, seas, and rivers shape and indicate the “natural” boundaries of a people, defined by language, and their territorial state. 20 While the notion of states having

20 Interestingly, the concept of rivers as boundaries appears to be a function of the era; during the medieval period rivers were often the uniters of communities rather than dividers and borders.

50 natural boundaries pre-existed this period, and clearly which rivers and mountains

demarked a particular territory was, in practice, subject to revision, the union of

Rousseau’s conception of the state and Herder’s conceptualization of ethnicity with

the newly dominant sense of politics as territorial provided for a powerful new image:

the homogenous nation-state, which nature itself seemed to preordain.21

Napoleon, Romanticism and Ethnicity

While the application of Rousseau’s thought by Jacobins in France required

considerable adaptation to the existing circumstances the revolutionaries confronted,

what is clear is that by the time of the Napoleonic Wars nationalism, that is, the

principle of political institutions being tied to a people linguistically defined, had

clearly come into being. While Napoleon does not seem to have addressed or been

concerned with linguistic diversity in France itself, indeed, he was a Corsican, both

his conquests and resistance to them extended arguments about a natural people,

elites and commoners alike, who shared commonalities which bound their fates

together and should, therefore, generate both a collective resistance to the French

armies and political institutions.22 Napoleon’s policies, particularly in Central and

Eastern Europe, illustrate this position.

At the same time, philology, the study of languages, emerged. These scholars attempted to trace the historical paths of peoples through languages, increasingly determining either the “homeland” of particular groups or the timing of “original acquisition” of territory in Western Europe (Geary 2002: 27-29). Literary Romantics

21 For an extended discussion of the concept of “natural boundaries” in the case of France, see Chapter 3.

51 spread out into the countryside in attempts to find the essential “people” and their stories, songs, and habits. As a result, the “histories” of diverse groups began to be constructed based both on the collection of “folk” artifacts and on the tracing of histories of origin for various groups (Baycroft 1998: 24-30).

Finally, literary Romanticism represented a rejection of the orderliness and rationality of Enlightenment thought and, potentially, the rejection of civic nationality for something more “organic”. The focus became the natural world, emotion, passion, and spontaneity. In Germany especially, this movement led scholars into the villages and countryside to connect with the “volk” in an attempt to recapture some of the essence of the nationality that rationalism and international influences had driven from the urban centers.23 This period was to see an intellectual revival of folkloric songs, stories, and language as an explicit attempt to recapture the essence of the

“volk”.

Thus the principle of what became known as “nationalism”, the right of a people to have their own state, had become mainstream. The extreme example of

Jacobin civic citizenship was rejected in varying degrees, even in France itself, for an ethnic conceptualization. And “the people” were reified as an organic association between individuals.

22 It must be noted that Napoleon himself supported Corsican independence prior to his ascension to power. 23 In German two terms came to differentiate the urban/rural divide: city-dwellers were known as “Staatsbürger”, denoted by being a resident of a city, while in the countryside one found “Volksgenosse”, which carries a sense of organic association between individuals.

52 19th Century Liberalism

As the nineteenth-century progressed, thought regarding the relationship

between the state and the people continued to evolve. However, the egalitarianism of

Herder gave way to Social Darwinism, in which some groups were seen as staatsvolk, people deserving a state, while others were mere kulturvolk destined for the trash- heap of history. Not every people could claim the Liberal right to self-determination; indeed, this period would see the most aggressive attempts to eradicate sub-national identities based on Liberal conceptualizations of nationalism.

Will Kymlicka asserts that Liberal thought of the time articulated a fundamental connection between homogeneity and freedom (1995: 52).24 As new areas in Central and Eastern Europe began to claim self-determination, the ideal of ethnic homogeneity informed the powers of the Concert of Europe in their decisions.25 Furthermore, all of the Great Powers except Austria were dominated by

a single ethnic group despite the presence of considerable numbers of ethnic

minorities in each case. This proved less a conceptual dilemma than might be

supposed, however, in that “great nations” represented the advancers of history while

“nationalities” were destined to fade away as their members increasingly adopt the

language and culture of these superior groups; such thinking reflects the Social

Darwianism of the mid-nineteenth-century. Thus Mill famously concludes in 1861:

Experience proves that it is possible for one nationality to merge and be absorbed in another: and when it was originally an inferior and

24 It should be noted, however, that Lord Acton, a Liberal contemporary of Mill, argued that ethnic pluralism was an important guarantor of freedom, in that pluralism would limit the potential power of the state. This view, however, appears to have been a minority position. 25 Interestingly, however, the first new state recognized by the Concert of Europe, Belgium, was religiously homogeneous, as it resulted from Catholic resistance to the Protestant Dutch, but linguistically divided with the minority French-speaking Walloons dominating the Dutch-speaking Flemish majority.

53 more backward portion of the human race the absorption is greatly to its advantage. Nobody can suppose that it is not more beneficial to a Breton, or a Basque of French Navarre, to be brought into the current of the ideas and feelings of a highly civilized and cultivated people – to be a member of the French nationality, admitted on equal terms to all the privileges of French citizenship, sharing the advantages of French protection, and the dignity of French power – than to sulk on his own rocks, the half-savage relic of past times, revolving in his own little mental orbit, without participation or interest in the general movement of the world. The same remark applies to the Welshman or the Scottish Highlander as members of the British nation (1996: 44).

It must be noted, however, that the notion of civic nationalism had not disappeared. Particularly in France, the tension between civic and ethnic citizenship persisted. Ernest Renan, in his famous 1882 speech entitled Qu’est-ce qu’un nation?

[What is a Nation], argues forcefully that the most important defining characteristic for ethnic groups is the desire among individuals to associate together. All other criteria, including “race, language, interests, religious affinity, geography and military exigencies”, are subject to this associative spirit (1996: 57-59).26 Thus while Mill’s vision may represent the dominant strain of nineteenth-century Liberal thought and policies, Acton and Renan represent different yet significant alternatives.

Clear policy prescriptions flowed from the dominant Liberal argument:

[I]n the nineteenth-century, the call for a common national identity was often tied to an ethnocentric degeneration of smaller national groups. It was commonplace in nineteenth-century thought to distinguish the ‘great nations’, such as France, Italy, Poland, Germany, Hungary, Spain, England, and Russia, from smaller ‘nationalities’, such as the Czechs, Slovaks, Croats, Basques, Welsh, Scots, Serbians, Bulgarians, Romanians, and Slovenes. The great nations were seen as civilized, and as the carriers of historical development. So some nineteenth-century liberals endorsed national independence for great nations, but coercive assimilation for smaller nationalities (Kymlicka 1955: 52).

26 Renan’s view is all the more interesting in that he was a Breton, yet discounted language and all other “ethnic” markers.

54 What remained unclear were the particular criteria that determined which groups fell into which category; clearly the implications of classification could be dramatic. One

criterion was the potential or actualized greatness of a language, manifest in its

literature. A second was the economic or political viability of a group’s territory. A

potential third was a history, even if remote, as an independent political unit. For

Hobsbawm, what underlies these various measures is a proven ability for conquest

(1992: 38).27 While he may overstate the case, in that Italy and Norway, among others, emerged through plebiscite and a host of other countries through various peace settlements (see below), it does appear that conquest facilitated a strong claim to self-determination, while other groups frequently needed the good graces of the more powerful countries to realize independence; ethnic groups therefore had neither an a priori right to a political state nor an a priori exclusion from statehood

(Hobsbawm 1992: 38).

The Great Powers and National Self-determination

Interestingly, while the principles of nationalism were refined and advanced

during the nineteenth-century, in practice groups were defined, at various times, by

language, culture, and/or religion. In the years leading up to World War I the

boundaries of Europe, especially in the East, underwent a series of transformations

with the sanction of the Great Powers. The application of Liberal beliefs to

settlements in Eastern Europe indicates their prevalence; however, the Great Powers

hypocritically did not apply these same standards to themselves (Alcock 2000: 33-

34).

27 Baycroft argues, interestingly, that nationalism was the claim of the weak, in that they tried to argue

55 Despite the role of Napoleon in advancing the nationalist idea, his defeat led

to the acceptance of the principle among the Great Powers. Beginning in 1815 with

the settlements of the Congress of Vienna, the formulation of minorities as ethnic

groups with political rights was adopted, although the primary motivation was to

establish a stable balance of power, including the transfer of religious or linguistic

minorities from one power to another. Support for national minorities was, therefore,

a function of practical politics rather than principle.

In what was to become the general pattern for the recognition of independence during this pattern, Greece represented the first case. The territory of the new Greek state, established in 1830, was generally determined along ethnic lines, although not all Greek-speakers were included in Greece while a considerable Muslim minority was. Additionally, recognition of the new state was contingent on Greek guarantees

of protections for its Muslim minority. This pattern, the recognition of new states

based on a dominant ethnic group but with requirements for religious minority rights,

would be repeated for Serbia, Montenegro, Romania, and Bulgaria in the coming

years.

This period was also to see the unification of most Germans in the German

Empire and most Italians in Italy. In both cases, however, linguistic kin were

excluded from the new states and linguistic minorities were included in the new

boundaries. These two states were formed largely through internal initiative rather

than by Great Power consent, thereby approximating the ideal of self-determination,

although the largely plebiscitary approach of the Italians (Lombardy, the Papal States,

the Marche and Umbria and Naples, Sicily, Tuscany, Parma, and Modena in 1860,

on principle what could not be realized through military force (1998: 87-88).

56 Venice in 1866, and Rome in 1870), anticipated by the French revolutionaries

(Avignon in 1791, Savoy and Nice in 1792, and Liége and some Alsatian enclaves in

1793) was replaced by military success and annexation in some of the acquired

German territories, most notably in Alsace-Lorraine in 1871. Thus two large states

that had heretofore not existed were established along generally ethnic lines.

The transformation of the Austrian Empire into the Dual Monarchy of

Austria-Hungary would see the extension of linguistic rights to a variety of groups,

further evidencing changing attitudes towards political rights for ethnic groups.

While German and Magyar were the official languages in their respective areas,

communes could choose their language of business, private schools could be

conducted in any language, and, where there were sufficient numbers, education in

the local language was required. However, most groups were excluded from

government and efforts to advance their causes were resisted, most clearly in the case

of the Czechs, who envisioned a “Triple Monarchy” with Czech being the equal of

German and Magyar.

The uneven application of self-determination for ethnic groups illustrates, at

least for some scholars, the hypocrisy of the Great Powers. Both France and the

United Kingdom continued to press assimilation of their minorities. Germans,

Italians, and Russians also failed to provide protections for linguistic minorities and

Bismarck undertook a kulturkampf (cultural struggle) against Catholics in the German

Empire, which was in part a reaction to Catholic support for local languages.28 Even in the Dual Monarchy, the magyarization of various groups within the Hungarian

57 territory was tolerated. The Poles, having lost their country in a series of partitions between Prussia, Russia, and Austria at the end of the 18th century, continued to be denied a restored state as well as protections for their language. The Berlin Treaty of

1878, signed by the Great Powers to address the formation of new states in the

Balkans, created a variety of independent national states each of which contained considerable numbers of linguistic and religions minorities for whom protections were available only on paper. Furthermore, the Great Powers, ever concerned with the balance of power, continued the policy of transferring territories between themselves with no regard for the inhabitants. And even Romania, beneficiary of the

Berlin Treaty, was not prevented from abusing its Jewish minority despite ostensible provisions to the contrary.

The nineteenth-century was, therefore, a period of evolving notions of the definition of minorities and their political rights. While Western states appeared to take Mill as a guiding principle, advancing their national identity at the expense of the kulturvolk, other groups realized statehood, either through conquest, plebiscites, or through the sponsorship of the Great Powers, while still others continued to be denied similar rights. Thus while the principle of national self-determination came to be more widely espoused during the period, its application was uneven at best and hypocritical at worst.

28 Catholics and Protestants in the German Empire were largely regionally segregated; thus the kulturkampf must also be understood as an attempt to assimilate the periphery into the culture of the Prussian Protestant core.

58 The League of Nations “Minority Treaties” System

Following the upheavals of World War I and the collapse of multi-ethnic

empires in Eastern Europe, the question of political rights for linguistic communities

resurged with a vengeance. Interestingly, the solutions realized were, in many

respects, an extension of the pattern established at Berlin: the creation of new states

dominated by a single linguistic group in the East with the continued rejection of reforms for similar groups in the West. The major qualitative difference between this

period and the Concert of Europe was the formal institutions created to address

minority claims of discrimination and oppression and guarantee the protection of

minority rights; although their application was limited primarily to the new states that

emerged from the settlement and subject to the so-called minority treaties, the

principles and institutions of this period anticipate those in Western Europe after

World War II and, therefore, deserve some consideration here.

The starting-point for negotiations ending World War I was, at the request of

the German Provisional Government, Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points outlined in

an address to a joint session of Congress, January 8. 1918. A number of these pointed to changing borders based, at least in part, in consideration of ethnicity:

VII. Belgium, the whole world will agree, must be evacuated and restored, without any attempt to limit the sovereignty which she enjoys in common with all other free nations. No other single act will serve as this will serve to restore confidence among the nations in the laws which they have themselves set and determined for the government of their relations with one another. Without this healing act the whole structure and validity of international law is forever impaired. VIII. All French territory should be freed and the invaded portions restored, and the wrong done to France by Prussia in 1871 in the matter of Alsace-Lorraine, which has unsettled the peace of the world

59 for nearly fifty years, should be righted, in order that peace may once more be made secure in the interest of all. IX. A readjustment of the frontiers of Italy should be effected along clearly recognizable lines of nationality. X. The peoples of Austria-Hungary, whose place among the nations we wish to see safeguarded and assured, should be accorded the freest opportunity to autonomous development. XI. Rumania, Serbia, and Montenegro should be evacuated; occupied territories restored; Serbia accorded free and secure access to the sea; and the relations of the several Balkan states to one another determined by friendly counsel along historically established lines of allegiance and nationality; and international guarantees of the political and economic independence and territorial integrity of the several Balkan states should be entered into. XII. The Turkish portion of the present Ottoman Empire should be assured a secure sovereignty, but the other nationalities which are now under Turkish rule should be assured an undoubted security of life and an absolutely unmolested opportunity of autonomous development, and the Dardanelles should be permanently opened as a free passage to the ships and commerce of all nations under international guarantees. XIII. An independent Polish state should be erected which should include the territories inhabited by indisputably Polish populations, which should be assured a free and secure access to the sea, and whose political and economic independence and territorial integrity should be guaranteed by international covenant. In a second speech on February 11, 1918, Wilson expanded his ideas regarding self- determination of ethnic minorities, striking a direct blow against the maneuverings of the Concert of Europe in consideration of the balance of power:

Peoples are not to be handed about from one sovereignty to another by an international conference or an understanding between rivals and belligerents. National aspirations must be respected; peoples may now be dominated and governed only by their own consent. ‘Self- determination’ is not a mere phrase. It is an imperative principle of action… This war had its roots in the disregard of the rights of small nations and of nationalities which lacked the union and the force to make good their claim to determine their own allegiances and their own forms of political life. Covenants must now be entered into which will render such things impossible for the future… (quoted in Alcock 2000: 40).

60

During early 1918, when victory was still in doubt, these principles may have

been acceptable to members of the Western alliance. However, by the time of the

peace conference in November, attitudes had changed dramatically in the wake of

Entente success. The desire to limit German power resulted in arrangements for

transferring parts of its territory to Denmark, Belgium, France, and the new Polish

state. Promises made to Italy in 1915 were in clear contradiction with Point IX, in

that Italy was to receive South Tyrol, with a large German population, and the

Dalmatian coast, populated by Croats, Slovenes, and Albanians. Finally, the British

feared the extension of Wilson’s principles would inflame an already tense situation in Ireland, while a Breton delegation to the conference pointed to potential internal

difficulties for France.

What resulted at the conference, therefore, was a mixture of Wilsonian

principles and realpolitik considerations. A host of new states were created in the

East, some of which were descendants of earlier political units while others as

entirely novel creations. Many of these had considerable ethnic minorities despite the

implied principle of homogeneity; some 30 million inhabitants found themselves in

countries in which their culture was not that of the majority. Germany lost territory

through plebiscites in the West and by administrative decision in the East. Italy

gained South Tyrol but did not realize the promised eastern Adriatic coast, given to

the new state of Yugoslavia. Turkey lost territory to Greece, Italy, Britain, and

France, with its Middle-eastern territories becoming League of Nations Mandates.

The borders of the novel Czechoslovakia were determined largely along military,

rather than ethnic, considerations so that the state could watch over both Germany

61 and Hungary. The Baltic states of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania were established

and Finland, after eight centuries of foreign rule, realized independence. And ethnic

advocates from Western states were rebuffed.29

Of equal importance was the establishment of international institutions to protect minority rights. Of the at least 19 different treaties and instruments that created the European system, many contained specific language for the protection of minority cultures in the areas of education, culture, and citizenship. The League of

Nations and Permanent Court of International Justice were established and granted jurisdiction over these treaties, providing mechanisms by which petitions of unfair treatment could be brought and addressed. The process continued to be refined during this period to facilitate addressing the claims in a fair manner. Thus minority rights became enshrined both in international law and institutions although, as Claude

(1955) notes, the institutions were not intended as universal, but only for application in countries where minority issues might pose particular difficulties. In practice, these countries were the defeated states and the new states, although Germany was only partially subject to the League system (16-17).

However, two important caveats must be raised to this process. First, the

League of Nations was considered, by the Great Powers at least, to be primarily concerned with preserving the peace rather than advancing and protecting rights;

29 Perhaps unsurprisingly, the only example of a successful extension of self-determination to an ethnic minority within a Great Power involved considerable violence: most of Ireland achieved independence as a Free State after an extended war with the UK. The independence of most, but not all, of the country pointed to conceptual problems with Wilsonian principles, primarily the question of the “district” to be considered for self-determination. As a whole, the island of Eire was overwhelmingly Catholic Irish and thus might be considered as a single unit. Yet historical nine-county Ulster had a slight majority of Protestants wishing to remain British. Of these nine counties, only three were majority-Protestant. In the end, six of the nine counties remained in the UK as Northern Ireland, thus going against all historical precedents of a “district” on the island.

62 while clearly peace could be best guaranteed through the provision of rights, peace might also be undermined by advocating minority claims against the state. As a result, absolute principles continued to be subordinate to considerations of power.

Second, the Millian expectation of small-group assimilation continued in the minds of Western leaders. Lord Robert Cecil asserted

minorities… should recognize that they were part of the state in which they lived and they should do their utmost to cooperate with the Government to preserve the stability and good government of the State (quoted in Jackson Preece 1998: 88).

Mr. Briand, the French representative, argued in the negotiations

the process we [the League] should aim for… [is] a kind of assimilation which will increase the greatness of the nation as a whole without in any way diminishing the importance of the smaller [national minority] family (ibid).

And, most controversially, Sir Austen Chamberlain claimed, then retracted,

that

the object of the minorities treaties was to secure for the minorities that measure of protection and justice which would gradually prepare them to be merged in the national community in which they belonged (ibid: 88-89).

Thus, paradoxically, a number of new countries had been established along ethnic

lines, but within these new borders assimilation was to be the rule. Clearly this line

of argument supported the continued denial of rights to ethnic groups in Britain and

France, as elsewhere. However, the seeming contradiction contained within this line

of argument would be subject to powerful challenges after the Second World War.

While World War II brought the League of Nations to an end, the minority

treaties system was clearly dysfunctional prior to its official end. A function of the

uneven application of minority protections in the minority states, the reluctance of

63 kin-states to accept the internationalization of minority protection, the behavior of neutral states such as the United States, and the activities of minorities themselves, the system failed to realize most of its goals, as did the League more generally.

Despite its failings, however, the system might have been viable if it had been executed in good faith (Claude 1955: 48).

The Post-World War II Settlements and Decolonization

During World War II three approaches were used to advance ethnic

homogeneity: physical genocide, population transfers, and boundary changes.

Interestingly, the initial post-War settlement, while clearly rejecting the horrors of genocide, implemented the latter two as part of the resolution of problems seen, rightly or wrongly, as stemming from the weaknesses of the League of Nations system and the need for internal homogeneity. Four other options were advanced during wartime planning: international guarantees for minority rights akin to the

League system, an international Bill of Human Rights, the promotion of assimilation, and the development of cultural pluralism (Claude 1955: 126-142). While no one option was universally applied, each was used as an attempt to rectify, where possible, the failures of the League and the minority treaties and as an attempt to rid states of unassimilated groups, which were seen as potential or actual threats to the

state.

y International Guarantees of Minority Rights

Central to the failure of the League system of international protection of

minority rights was the role that “kin-states” played as advocates for minority rights.

While in principle any state could advance the cause of a minority group, the pattern

64 tended overwhelmingly to be that kin-states, such as Germany, would petition the

Court on behalf of their kin in other states, in this case Germans. The slow and complicated League system became encumbered with petitions of this nature, which resulted in antagonisms among states and ethnic minorities with few realizing their aspirations.

International guarantees for minority rights was the option that most closely paralleled the League system; as a result, it was largely discredited, at least among the

Peace Conference negotiators. Some sought to establish a clearer system of controls for Central and Eastern Europe, where the problems appeared the most intractable.

Oscar Janowsky proposed a regional federation of national territorial subdivisions

(Janowsky 1945: 145-147). Others proposed a universal system of minority protections, arguing that the principle applied to all states and that restricting its application to Eastern Europe was one of the main failings of the League system

(Jackson Preece 1998: 99). However, the skepticism over League-style solutions undermined support for this option. y Population Transfers and Border Adjustments

Population transfers and border adjustments were the solutions immediately undertaken following the war, in part based on negotiations at Potsdam. In addition to the Allied agreement to transfer 6.5 million Germans out of Poland,

Czechoslovakia, and Hungary to Germany (Jackson Preece 1998: 103), a number of bilateral agreements provided for population transfers in an effort to realize internal homogenization. Yugoslavia and Romania unilaterally encouraged emigration of their German populations. Border revisions were used much less frequently, in part

65 because the ethnic map of Eastern Europe made such an approach unlikely to yield

the desired results; indeed, of the various border transfers made during and after the

War, only the redrawing of the border between Italy and Yugoslavia around Trieste appears to have been solely a function of accommodating ethnic realities. However,

moving people and changing borders were policies used only in the immediate post-

war period, as more general and principled solutions were sought.

y Universal Human Rights

One option, the establishment of universal human rights in a Bill of Human

Rights, appeared most consistent with the principles underlying the formation of the

United Nations. Furthermore, this approach, by articulating individual rights, would

undermine group minority rights, which were associated with the numerous problems

of the League system and concerns regarding minority behavior during the War and, therefore, were the target of European representatives. Supporters, especially

Americans, argued that the central problem with the treatment of minorities was barriers to equal treatment based on ascriptive characteristics; the problem was not a

“minorities” problem but one of individuals failing to realize their basic individual rights. Finally, some saw universal human rights as the only approach likely to be acceptable to all parties involved. Critics pointed to two problems with this approach.

First, there was no guarantee that the enforcement of human rights would be any more successful than that of minority rights under the League. Second, some argued that minority rights were inherently group rights; any solution proposing to advance universal human rights was by definition supporting the majority against any minorities.

66 y Assimilation

Of the two other options, assimilation was most closely in line with historical

attempts in Western Europe to achieve an idealized homogenous nation-state, albeit

by ostensibly less violent means than ethnic cleansing, population transfers, and

border adjustments. Furthermore, as shown above, assimilation was still viewed by

some Liberals as an inevitable and desirable process not inconsistent with human

rights. Indeed, for Eastern Europe assimilation represented the only seemingly viable

option to the hopelessly intermingled ethnicities. In addition, assimiliationist policies

had long been used within France, Spain, the United Kingdom, and elsewhere (see

Chapters 3-5); extending these principles served to justify these domestic programs.

Again, Americans tended to favor this option as it reflected the “melting-pot” image

of the United States. Critics countered on a number of fronts. First, there was no

guarantee that assimilation would permanently protect individuals; assimilated Jews

were victims of Nazism equally to those who retained their Jewish identities. Second,

assimilation seemed contrary to the principles of national self-determination. Third,

some argued that assimilation represented cultural genocide and was, therefore, antithetical to the Allied cause; “cultural genocide represents the end whereas physical genocide represents the means (quoted in Alcock 2000: 101).” Finally,

assimilationist policies were seen by some as provoking minority resistance as much

as alleviating it.

y Cultural Pluralism

The stark alternative to all of these approaches was cultural pluralism, in

which minority groups were tolerated and supported alongside the majority.

67 However, such ideas were antithetical to the dominant Liberal paradigm.

Furthermore, the numerous problems of the multi-ethnic empires prior to World War

I could be seen as indicative of the weakness of this alternative, despite counters that

such empires were only minimally tolerant of ethnic minorities and certainly did not

seek to provide them rights and protections equal to the majority. Ironically, this

“solution” characterizes policies undertaken recent years, as will be explored below.

In some respects the early post-war years represent the nadir for ethnic

minority rights in Western Europe. The human-rights approach came to be adopted

by a variety of international institutions, including the United Nations (UN), Council

of Europe (CoE), and the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE,

subsequently renamed the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe

(OSCE) in 1995); none of these adopted separate minority-rights provisions during

the Cold War. Instead, non-discrimination became the prevailing policy. UN

Resolution 217 C III (1948), entitled “The Fate of Minorities” argued that minority

rights were of central concern to the body but because there was no readily available

universal solution the issue was deferred to the UN Commission on Human Rights

(UNHCR) and the Subcommission for the Prevention of Discrimination and

Protection of Minorities, both of which failed to provide forceful support for minorities.

Interestingly, motivations for reconsidering the ethnic minority question in

Western Europe resulted from the contagion of decolonization.30 Throughout the

30 The earlier decolonization of Latin America in the 19th century did not generate a similar contagion effect within Spain, as these independence movements were conservative revolutions by Spanish aristocrats, in part due to the early liberalism of Ferdinand VII but mainly in response to inefficient

68 early post-war decades, groups within various European empires sought

independence based on the principle of self-determination.31 In many respects these claims were similar to those of the Jacobins regarding popular sovereignty.

These movements generated sympathetic responses in Western Europe, where some began to refer to the “internal colonialism” levied against ethnic minorities at home and the need for self-determination. Popularized by Michael Hechter as a model for ethnopolitical mobilization, the term predates his work and was used, especially in France by Robert Lafont among others, to bolster the arguments of ethnoterritorial groups that their inclusion in the state was akin to colonization; indigenous groups integrated into the state under these conditions should therefore be accorded the same rights to self-determination as other colonized peoples. The perceived continued hypocrisy of Western European states was put in stark relief and demanded a response both at the state-level (see Chapters 3-5) and through international institutions.

The Building of European Institutions for Minority Rights

The decades following World War II would eventually see the reinclusion of provisions for minority rights in international institutions; institutions with particular relevance to Western Europe included the UN, the CoE, the CSCE, and the European

Community (EC, later the European Union (EU)), both in that their resolutions apply to states in the region and that the separate bodies frequently consulted each other and

Spanish colonial administration and as attempts to secure their position, rather than efforts by indigenous populations to realize self-determination. 31 Paradoxically, while independence was granted for colonial jurisdictions, rather than peoples, the UN was reluctant to require the new states to adhere to minority rights or even self-determination for ethnicities within these territories, a further indication of the weakness of any principle of minority

69 paid attention to the initiatives undertaken by one another (Jackson Preece 1998:

115). The shift in attitudes towards the need for an explicit articulation of minority

rights both resulted from and facilitated an increased acceptance of cultural pluralism

as the appropriate democratic response to ethnic demands. Furthermore, while initial

changes to institutions were the result of domestic processes within member states,

subsequently these institutions serve to facilitate the continued expansion of ethnic

claims for political rights.

y The United Nations (UN)

As stated above, the initial UN treatment of minority rights was to frame them

in terms of individual rights and the need for protection against discrimination. Even

decolonization was framed as self-determination of jurisdictions, not peoples. In

many respects the UN has not been an institutional leader regarding minority rights,

tending instead to follow the efforts of other organizations.

The 1966 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights was the only

UN convention prior to 1990 to include a specific clause addressing minority rights,

the wording of which was quite similar to a 1961 CoE report (see below), although

the designation of an ethnic group as a “national minority”, to which the covenant

referred, was left to each state to determine.32 The primacy of state integrity over

minority rights was reinforced by the 1970 Declaration of Principles on Friendly

Relations between States:

rights even in comparison to the Berlin Conference or the League minority treaties. The new states themselves tended to see self-determination as the overcoming of white rule within a jurisdiction. 32 The 1953 Resolution 502 F (XVI) of the Economic and Social Council did articulate the necessity of taking into consideration national minority rights when making border revisions. However, decolonization occurred largely along the lines of colonial jurisdictional boundaries; thus the application of the principle was rarely needed.

70 Nothing… shall be construed as authorizing or encouraging any action which would dismember or impair, totally or in part, the territorial integrity or political unity of sovereign and independent States conducting themselves in compliance with the principle of equal rights and self-determination of peoples… and thus possessed of a government representing the whole people belonging to the territory without distinction as to race, creed or color (quoted in Jackson Preece 1998: 113, 129).

Clearly the primacy of the state was maintained, with the expectation that minority

groups would remain loyal, if not assimilated.

The 1992 Declaration on the Rights of Persons Belonging to National or

Ethnic, Religious and Linguistic Minorities represents the first UN instrument

devoted solely to national minority rights. While it expressly denies the right to

secession or irredentism, the Declaration articulates collective rights that need to be

taken into consideration in the formulation of domestic or international programs. As

such, it represents a new minimum standard for minority group rights.

y The Council of Europe (CoE)

Following World War II, the Council of Europe, an explicitly political

association of European states established in 1949, was initially reluctant to address

minority rights, pointing to the problems with the League system as justification.

However, the need for a more specific clarification of minority rights was raised on a

variety of occasions; eventually a 1961 report advocated including an article

advocating preferential treatment for national minorities in an attempt to protect their

unique character. While the recommendation was not implemented, it opened the

door, however slightly, for the addressing of minority rights by international

institutions, despite considerable fears over re-igniting ethnic conflict in Europe and

was adopted in 1966 by the UN in the International Covenant.

71 The emergence, in the 1970s, of regional organizations such as the Arge-Alp

(Arbeitsgeminschaft Alp, 1972), the Arge Alp Adria (1978) and the Arge Pyrénées

(1983) to facilitate cooperation across state borders among geographically-united

administrations reflected an emerging legitimacy for regionalism which served, albeit

indirectly, to undermine Jacobin notions of centralization and homogenization. These

groups, among others, were given a consultative status with the CoE. In 1978 the

Bordeaux Declaration of the Conference of the Local and Regional Authorities of the

Council of Europe articulated in almost poetic terms the importance of regional

diversity within the member states and the need to facilitate the protection of local

cultures rather than press assimilation. The Declaration called for regional autonomy

and executive, legislative, and fiscal authority in matters addressing culture and

education, provisions for inter-regional contacts, and the provision of regional media

services to aid in promoting the local culture (Alcock 2000: 136-138).

In the 1990’s the Council continued to expand its institutions regarding

minority rights. The 1992 Charter for Regional or Minority Languages articulated

extensive rights for languages spoken by historical groups within member states (not

dialects or immigrant languages), including education, media, culture, economics,

legal, and cross-border exchanges, but the status was to be determined by each

signatory state. Compliance with the Charter was overseen by a Committee of

Experts, but legal organizations could bring claims to the Committee. And in 1995,

the Framework Convention for the Protection of National Minorities adjusted the stipulations of the 1992 Charter, strengthening provisions to promote equality

72 between members of different national groups but weakening some of the

requirements for minority language use in public and education.

Thus the political Council has increasingly advanced particular mechanisms regarding minority rights. However, it continues to be subject to the pressures of

member states, erring on the side of state sovereignty. While there are procedures

used by non-states to raise particular issues, direct access by minority groups is highly

circumscribed.

y The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) / Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE)

The CSCE was established as a European-wide (plus the US and Canada)

institution to facilitate strategic cooperation on issues of military security in the

region. As a result, the primary focus was not initially on domestic policies regarding

human or minority rights. However, because violations of human rights could be

understood as generating threats to international stability, the CSCE gradually moved

in the direction of articulating sets of standards regarding individuals and minority

groups, albeit with an eye towards stability as well as principle. In some respects the

OSCE has emerged as a leader in advancing minority rights, with its normative

standards becoming adopted in the CoE’s 1995 Framework (Chandler 1999: 61-63).

The founding document of the CSCE, the 1975 Final Helsinki Act, represents,

to some extent, an exception to the Cold-War tendency to avoid addressing minority

rights in that it called on member-states to practice non-discrimination against

national minorities. Furthermore, the CSCE established human and minority rights as

concerns of international security rather than matters of domestic policy, elevating the

normative significance of these issues. However, the Final Act formulation

73 represented the equation of minority rights with human rights, which tended to result

in assimilation rather than minority protection.

The next set of institutional reforms was developed in 1989 in part out of the

EC’s desire to have permanent monitoring mechanisms for compliance with CSCE

undertakings. The result was the Human Dimension Mechanism, which provided for

four stages to address complaints regarding particular policies, although initially the

focus was on general human rights rather than on minorities. In 1991 the Human

Dimension was given powers to unilaterally investigate potentially threatening

circumstances. However, the Human Dimension mechanism was subject to pitting

East against West; out of 103 instances of using the Human Dimension in 1989-90,

only one, between Romania and Hungary over Transylvania, was intra-regional

(Chandler 1999: 62).

In 1992 the CSCE established a High Commissioner on National Minorities

(HCNM) to provide early warning of potentially dangerous situations, select specific circumstances for preventative diplomacy, and to facilitate ‘early action’ by the

OSCE when appropriate, signaling a shift towards emphasizing minority rights within

the organization and resulting from the growing crisis in Yugoslavia. However, as

with the Human Dimension, politics trumped principles: Turkey, Spain, and the

United Kingdom insisted that cases of terrorism be excluded from the purview of the

HCNM, thereby excluding problems with Kurds, Basques, and Irish, respectively.

Furthermore, concerns over how the HCNM might view the policies of Western

states led to qualifications by a number of them, including France, the United States,

74 Germany, and Switzerland, that effectively kept the HCNM from reviewing cases in

those countries.

Despite these problems, the Organization continues to advance normative

standards for minority rights. In 1996 the OSCE established the Hague

Recommendations on the Education Rights of National Minorities, articulating standards for minority-language education. And in 1998 they adopted the Linguistic

Rights of National Minorities, which include the right to individual and business

names in the language, place-names and official documentation in the language where

population numbers warrant, use of the language in administration, the courts,

prisons, and local and/or regional government and for governmental administrators to

use the language and encourage recruitment and training in the language. As with

earlier instruments, however, these tend to be more substantial in principle than in

practice, with member-states continuing to thwart extensive oversight of their

policies, despite the rhetoric of potential threats to international security.

Overall, the role of the CSCE/OSCE in advancing the cause of minority rights

has been mixed. While clearly a leader in articulating normative standards and

linking them to issues of security, it is less clear to what extent these proclamations

have had in actually securing minority rights. Furthermore, the need for consensus

has led to weak implementation of those instruments agreed to. In many respects the

Cold War underpinnings of the organization continue to generate an East/West divide

that undermines the efficacy of the OSCE (Chandler 1999: 69-72).

75 y The European Community (EC) / European Union (EU)

While certain leaders advancing Western European institutions envisioned the gradual unification of the region, in practice the early institutions were focused on harmonizing economic policies between members (Hooghe and Marks 2001: 51).

Not surprisingly, therefore, minority rights were not of central concern to the EC.

Indeed, initiatives regarding regions resulted from successes by sub-national groups on the domestic front, which then were transmitted upwards. However, the institutions of the EU now represent the most effective mechanisms for regional political power, providing critical political resources for ethnic entrepreneurs and reinforcing arguments in support of expanding meso-governmental institutions; such innovations are not necessarily directed at ethnic groups, but where those groups have advanced a claim to territory and generated domestic accommodations, these new avenues of access represent important improvements in the capacities of ethnic groups.

Although the EC established the European Bureau for Lesser-used Languages

in 1982, which provided for EC involvement in ethnic regions, given the emphasis on

national economic development and integration it is not surprising that the EC did little else regarding minority rights, leaving such issues to the CoE and OSCE.

However, the 1992 Maastricht Treaty on European Unity provided a Committee of the Regions with regional, rather than national, representatives giving a direct voice

for regions in Brussels. This represents the first time the EC/EU recognized entities

other than Member States as a legitimate part of European institutions and

functionally represents a new level of access and source of legitimacy for meso-

76 governments. In addition, the Council of Ministers now has representatives of

regions as part of its assembly; while states normally designate these representatives,

thereby continuing to exert control, in some cases powerful regions have been able to extract agreements from their central governments to permit the region to designate its representatives (Hooghe and Marks 2001: 83). Third, EU policies and funding directed at reducing disparities between regions led to the creation and maintenance of direct links between the EU and the regions as well; furthermore, by focusing on regions as units for economic development, the concept of the region as a legitimate unit is reinforced. Finally, the principle of subsidiarity, which emphasizes the need to vest decision-making authority at the lowest level possible while retaining efficacy, serves to reinforce the legitimacy of the region (Moreno 2000: 71). Thus the EU establishment and reinforcement of mesogovernment supports and facilitates ethnic mobilization where such groups are clearly defined with a territory.

Overall, the impact of increasing Western European integration has led to

changing ideas regarding ethnic minority rights and the ostensible threat they pose to

the state. The growth and expansion of European institutions results in the

recognition of boundaries; with threats to frontiers diminished, governments could be

more tolerant of ethnoterritorial groups (Alcock 2000: 135). Additionally, the shift in

notions of self-determination from an implicit justification for secession to one of

regional autonomy as a legitimate goal removes the onus of claims for self-

determination against states, as their territorial integrity is not threatened. As a result,

states can be more willing to consider ethnoterritorial claims.

77 Despite the considerable progress in articulating and implementing national

minority rights in various international institutions, care must be taken in not

overstating the successes realized. There is still considerable unevenness in the

application of these standards, as rulings by the European Court of Justice

demonstrate. The bias towards states and against national minorities persists. And

the lack of coordination and standardization across these institutions in Western

Europe generates confusion as to which standards may apply in particular cases.

While progress has been considerable in the last three decades on developing and implementing national minority rights, the realization of a “Europe of the Regions”

appears to be a long way off.

Conclusion

Enlightenment thought represents a distinct departure from earlier notions of political organization and identity. The establishment of concepts of popular sovereignty, territoriality, and the linguistic essence of group identity served to

generate Liberal nationalism, in which each “great nation” was entitled to its own

state. Additionally, such states arguably could actively and/or passively encourage the demise of local identities that did not appear to approach the criteria for claiming

a right to a state. As a result, in a Western Europe dominated by staatsvolk local

identities were under a sustained attack in the nineteenth-century.

However, two trends countered this process. First, the Napoleonic conquest

and Romanticism would serve to generate intellectual interest in preserving and

expanding local identities in the face of increasing assimilation. Second, the

(re)creation of states in Eastern Europe and the provisions for minority rights

78 implemented there served to lay the foundation for the self-determination of ethnic groups epitomized by the League of Nations minority treaties.

In Western Europe, however, the claims of ethnic entrepreneurs continued to

be denied. Decolonization and claims of “internal colonialism” provided further

justification for ethnic entrepreneurs to foment for institutional accommodation,

which gradually began to bear fruit. As states began to accommodate ethnic groups

with limited concessions, international institutions also began to address the issue of

minority rights. Eventually, institutions such as the CoE and the OSCE took the lead

in articulating a Western European standard of minority rights that was stronger and more extensive than that eventually adopted by the UN. These normative initiatives,

functionally reinforced through regionalization in the EU, have contributed to the ongoing revival of ethnic identity as a source of political mobilization, reversing the long decline of the nineteenth-century.

As the concluding chapter will illustrate, the domestic institutions and policies of European states towards their national minorities have been directly influenced by the evolution of European thought regarding ethnic groups and the right to self- determination or institutional accommodation. Furthermore, these same ideas impact the sense of legitimacy such groups have to press claims for accommodation. Finally,

European institutions represent functional opportunity structures channeling and shaping the possibilities for political activism.

79 Chapter 3: Ethnopolitical Mobilization under Jacobin Nationalism – The Case of France

Within France there appears to have been relatively little political

mobilization by national minorities until recent years, especially when compared to

other heterogeneous Western European societies. Furthermore, even in areas where

there has been relatively sustained political activity, the failure of ethnic political

parties to maintain themselves in French politics may indicate the low level of

mobilization by ethnic groups, although other cultural or institutional factors may also

play a role. As a result, France is rarely included in cross-national studies of

ethnopolitical mobilization, either due to the perception of an absence of mobilization

or the paucity of electoral support for ethnic political parties, on which many studies

heavily rely.

However, there does indeed appear to be an increase in ethnopolitical activity

in France, beginning in the 1960s in Brittany (Reece 1977), expanding to Corsica

(Ramsay 1983) and Alsace (Safran 1989) in the 1970s and the early 1980s, with

subsequent increases in Basque (Jacob 1994), Catalan, and Occitan mobilization

(Ager 1999).33 Evidence for this resurgence can be found in the formation of pressure-groups to advance legislation on behalf of particular groups or national minorities as a whole, the intermittent formation and participation of ethnic political parties, and some limited terrorist activity, especially in Brittany and Corsica.

Furthermore, a series of French governments have been enacting national minority

policies, implying the existence of the phenomenon: Governments appear to have been responding to increasing pressures by such groups through a series of legislative

80 acts that facilitate both the use of local languages in education, administration, and

the media and administrative deconcentration (which arguably may be only partially a

response to ethnic mobilization).

Of the seven commonly recognized national minorities in France, the Bretons have shown the most sustained and some of the highest levels of mobilization, including forming a variety of literary societies, sending a delegation to the Paris

Conference of 1919, establishing a Breton media, terrorist activity, the formation of a variety of political parties and pressure groups, and other activities. Historically,

Alsace also evidenced a vibrant movement while part of France, although it appears to have peaked in the inter-war years. More recently, Corsica has emerged as the strongest national minority movement in France. Despite the early formation of a

Provençal literary society and having the largest population and geographical base, there has been little sustained activity by Occitans. Basques and Catalans have begun to mobilize more recently, partially in conjunction with their relatives in Spain.

Finally and in contrast to the Basques and Catalans, the Flemish of northern France show few signs of political mobilization despite the substantial gains made by their adjacent kin in Belgium in recent decades.

Discussion of particular aspects of each group and their relationship to political mobilization are found in Chapter 6. In this chapter the emphasis will be on the evolution of French policies towards these groups, which have varied both in intensity and direction, assimilation representing the historic norm but limited and asymmetrical accommodation increasingly becoming the policy of the French

33 The remaining national minority commonly referred to is the Flemish, who have shown almost no evidence of mobilization.

81 government. This chapter will argue that the vicissitudes in French policy have been a function of two factors: issue salience and French identity; in addition, it is the relative success of French policy towards undermining national minority identity which accounts for the comparatively low level of political mobilization of such groups in France. In comparative terms, the French case will help develop an understanding of the role of national identity, as a function of state formation, on ethnopolitical mobilization as well as the possibilities and limits of aggressive assimilationist policies in a democracy. When combined with the analyses of Spain and the United Kingdom a more complete picture of state-level factors will be realized.

The diversity of national minorities in France

Starting with core holdings around Paris, the expansion of France over the centuries led to the incorporation of a variety of different peoples, cultures, and languages within the present Metropolitan territory. As a result, while traditional

French ideology proclaims France to be “one and indivisible”, today France represents the most heterogeneous of the three countries under consideration in this study: Seven distinct ethno-territorial subcultures are represented within its European borders, with some of those further subdivided into dialects. Despite decades of a relatively successful, official Jacobin policy advocating eliminating regional languages and identities and pressing assimilation, many contemporary French elites

82 have come to the position that “[l]es langues régionales sont une richesse de notre

patrimoine culturel [the regional languages are a richness of our cultural heritage].”34

There exists a number of Map 3-1: Languages and Dialects of France35 indigenous linguistic groups in

present-day France, ranging from

various dialects of the langue

d’oïl (of which Parisian French is

the national language), to the

more distantly related dialects of

langue d’oc in the South, the

even more distinct language of

Catalan (le catalan), a variant of

Italian in Corsica (le corse),

Germanic languages including variants of Dutch (le flamand) and German

(l’alsacien-mosellan), a Celtic language (le Breton), and the pre-Celtic Basque (le

basque). There are disagreements regarding which of these are altogether separate

languages, dialects of French, or variants of other national languages (such as the

waning of Flemish and Alsatian dialects in favor of their standardized versions).

Although this list has become fairly standard in governmental discussions and

scholarly treatments,36 it ignores languages of the non-territorial Jews and Roma as

well as those of immigrant communities. The implications of classifying languages

34 Prime Minister Lionel Jospin in the 29 October 1997 Lettre de mission to Député Nicole Péry outlining what eventually became the 1998 Poignant Report on Regional Languages and Cultures. 35 Map from Giordan 1982.

83 are of more than mere academic interest, however; in the French context there are

clear legal and constitutional implications involved whether a language is determined

to be a local dialect or a regional langue. Indeed, the historical evolution of the

categorical term, from local language to regional language to regional identity and

even bilingualism, has represented a difficult process for French officials reluctant to

acknowledge any ethnic cleavages within the Republic (Tabouret-Keller 1999, 343-

344).

The linguistic Map 3-2: The Expansion of France diversity of France is a

function of the process of

territorial acquisition over

many centuries. Starting

with Hugh Capet (987-996),

various French monarchs

undertook an uneven

process of expansion similar

in many ways to their

medieval contemporaries.

One of the first concerted

efforts at expansion was

southwards across the Loire river and into regions linguistically characterized as

speaking varieties of langue d’oc, as opposed to the northern langue d’oïl of the

36 See, for example, Langues et Cultures Regionales: Rapport de Monsieur Bernard Poignant, 1998. Admission to this list was uneven, based in part on determinations of whether a language was a dialect

84 French monarchy.37 The Crown participated in the Albigensian Crusade (1209-71), an attempt to restore Pope Innocent III and suppress the Catharist Heresy. Final control over the region was not achieved until the end of the Hundred Years’ War

(1338-1453) against England.

The pressures of that war would lead to an Act of Union (1532) between

France and Brittany, which had been unable to maintain its centuries-old independence under the pressures of both French and English ambition (Reece, 12-

18). The ascension of Henry of Navarre to the French throne (as Henri IV) in 1589 added some Basque areas in the Southwest; Henri would also gain territory from

Savoy in 1601, crossing the Rhône River towards Italy. The Treaty of Westphalia

(1648) added most of rural Alsace to France to the east; the cities of Strasbourg and

Mulhouse would be added under Louis XIV, as would parts of Flanders. Military

victory added northern Catalonia to France in 1659, while dynastic succession gained

Lorraine for the Crown (1766). The defeat of Genoa by France resulted in the sale of

Corsica to Henry XV in 1768. The French border with Italian areas was finally

determined in 1860, with the re-acquisition of Savoy by France (lost in 1815) and the

realization of new areas in Piedmont. The net effect of this piecemeal expansion was that a wide array of linguistic communities were added to France over many centuries

and under various conditions, necessitating the construction of a strong state and

French identity to overcome and unify such heterogeneous conditions.

of a neighboring language (German, Italian) or could be argued as more distinctive. 37 The differentiation is based on the different pronunciations of the word for “yes”. This distinction dates back at least as far as Dante and the Renaissance (Bell 2001, 1404).

85 French policies regarding its national minorities

Over the centuries, official French policy towards its national minorities has

been impacted by two distinct factors: French identity and issue salience. As the

French sense of self changed, so to have policies towards groups that potentially represent alternate identities. However, the importance of addressing such issues has

also varied, with periods of internal and external turmoil pushing policies towards

national minorities to the back burner. Generally speaking, the periods of the French

Revolution (1789-1794) and the Third Republic up to World War I (1871-1914) were

times in which the importance of addressing minority languages was high, with the

government seeking through a variety of avenues to eliminate all patois. The pre-

Revolutionary era, the Napoleonic and pre-Third Republic period (1795-1870), and

the inter-war, occupation, and post-war Fourth Republic saw much less energy spent

on such issues, as other issues moved to the fore. Finally, the Fifth Republic has seen

an increase in activity on the issue; however, the trend has been increasingly if

unevenly, towards accommodation of regional languages rather than continued

attempts to undermine them, the reasons for which will be discussed below.

Pre-revolutionary policy

The evolution of pre-Revolutionary France represents a long, if uneven,

process of shifting from local, medieval institutions and identities and personal,

feudal relationships to centralization and the creation of a nation-state. The

Renaissance French state was dominated by dynastic preservation and extension

through territorial acquisition. However, whereas medieval decentralization was a

function of personal, feudal relationships, Renaissance decentralization was

86 territorial, in that provincial estates and courts with royally-appointed administrators became the basis of state administration. Thus effective governance relied increasingly on the ability of Paris appointees to effectively represent local interests at court rather than on feudal obligations (Major 1994, 368-372).

However, this reliance on regional decentralization and the nobility generated problems for administration and central control. Under Henry IV, advised by Sully, the state began the process of centralization and standardization, especially regarding tax collection and the development of infrastructure. This process was continued and expanded by Cardinal Richelieu and Michel de Marillac, in which regional estates began to be bypassed by the Crown with regard to local methods of tax collection

(elections). Although Richelieu relied heavily on a system of patronage, under Louis

XIV and Colbert the vertical ties between the Crown and society were further weakened (Major 1994, 372-5; Fischer and Lundgreen 1975, 500).

One of the main barriers to this effort to centralize French administration was the wide variety of languages in use. The breakdown of the Roman Empire had resulted in linguistic fragmentation throughout Latin-speaking areas:

Where it had been possible for there to be mutual understanding throughout Gaul this was gradually lost between about 450 and until well after 1500 AD. For more than a thousand years therefore linguistic and social fragmentation was the norm (Ager 1999, 17).

However, Parisian French emerged early on as one of the more widely recognized languages abroad, largely due to the expanding power of the French monarchy:

The international success of French in the thirteenth century is clear; the Crusades had established it as the language of the Latin States in the eastern Mediterranean and of the Latin Empire of Constantinople, a success that the French recognized and applauded, proud to point out that in the East, all Westerners were called Francil… By contrast,

87 however, Parisian French only slowly established itself within the kingdom, despite the support of the royal chancery and the rest of the royal administration (Beaune 1991, 271)

Yet this apparent contradiction between international strength and local weakness of

French did not initially result in an active policy seeking to eradicate local languages;

indeed, prior to 1500 only Flemish was actively targeted. Only in later years was the

emergence of an active national minority policy to be seen.

Discussions of pre-revolutionary national minority policy in France tend to

begin with the Ordonnance de Villers-Cotteret of 1539 and the Ordonnance de Lyon

(1540). King François I stipulates, in Article III of Villers-Cotteret:

And because such things [doubts and uncertainties] frequently occurred with the interpretation of Latin words contained in the said decrees, we wish that henceforth all judgments, together with all other proceedings, whether of our sovereign courts and other subordinate and inferior courts, or accounts, inquiries, contracts, warrants, wills and any other acts and processes of justice or such as result from them, be pronounced, recorded and issued to the parties in the French mother tongue (langage maternel françois), and in no other way (Grillo 1989, 28).38

Debate regarding the ordinance focuses on the phrase “langage maternel françois”:39 while the Article seems to state that Latin is to be replaced by Parisian French (and therefore for some scholars, the languages of the central royal territories were to be homogenized) others argue that the Ordonnance merely makes French the official

38 “Et pour ce que telles choses sont souventes fois advenues sur l'intelligence des mots latins contenuz esd. arrestz, nous voulons que doresnavant tout arrestz, ensemble toutes autres procedures, soient de noz courtz souveraines ou autres subalternes et inférieurs, soient des registres, enquestes, contractz, commissions, sentences, testamens et autres qielzconques actes et exploictz de justice ou qui en deppenden, soient prononcez, enregistrez et delivrez aux parties en langage maternel fronçois et non autrement.” 39 Langage maternals referred to local languages and dialects, while françois was the French of the Ile de France (Oakes 2001, 55).

88 language, undermining the use of Latin but with no implicit attempt to undermine

regional languages and dialects.40

What does seem clear is that there was no clearly effective policy to eradicate local vernaculars in pre-Revolutionary France, regardless of the intent of the

Ordonnance; indeed, Grillo quotes the sixteenth-century chancellor Michel de l’Hôpital as arguing that linguistic divisions were no threat to France, as the basis of the state were “one faith, one law, one king (1981, 22)” rather than language or some other formulation. However, one effect of the process of state-building and

centralization, undertaken most notably during the reign of Louis XIV, was that

Parisian French became the language of the elites and administration throughout

France, putting pressure on local languages and dialects. Expansion under the Ancien

Regime exacerbated the need for French as the official language as a host of additional languages were incorporated into France.

During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, attempts to standardize

French were undertaken with an eye towards facilitating the further spread of the language; by the end of the eighteenth century the impact of great writers was felt and

French had become the preferred language for aristocrats across Europe (Wardhaugh

1987, 100-1). The establishment of the Académie Française in 1635 was intended to regulate French pronunciation and grammar; it was this standardized language that became adopted by elites across France and elsewhere (Grillo 1989, 29). It should also be noted that various edicts were issued during this period requiring the administrative use of French (Béarn [1620], Flanders [1684], Alsace [1685],

40 For summaries of this debate, see Wardhaugh 1987, 99; Jacob and Gordon 1985, 111; Grillo 1989, 27-29; and Oakes 2001, 55, 91.

89 Roussillon [1700], Lorraine [1748]); however, these edicts were clearly targeting only

newly-acquired areas (Bell 1995, 1410, ff. 25). By and large, therefore, the French

state was not concerned about the various vernaculars in use by the masses prior to

the Revolution (Oakes 2001, 90).

The Revolution

As with so many other French institutions, the Revolution was to radically

alter national minority policy. In the first years of the Revolution there was no clear

policy regarding the promulgation of standard French throughout the Republic. On

the one hand, standardization and centralization were the hallmarks of Jacobinism;

local institutional variations were to give way to a uniform, rational system (Jacob

and Gordon 1985, 112). Indeed, the very notion of citizenship for the Jacobins was

civic rather than ethnic; regional languages were seen as an artifact of political

institutions rather than language as the determining factor of those institutions (Safran

1999a, 85). On the other hand, Rousseau’s notion of the social contract asserted that

what mattered in building a nation was a commitment to a common legal, political,

and economic entity and the shared values those institutions entailed; language was

not a defining characteristic of a “people” (Geary 2002, 63; Hobsbawm 1992, 19-20).

Thus arguments could be made either for a homogenizing policy or for permitting local languages; in practice, after an initial attempt to unify all inhabitants of France through French, the National Assembly soon bowed to practical necessity and voted in 1790 to translate all laws and decrees into a variety of languages in an attempt to

spread Jacobin ideas both domestically and abroad.

90 However, increasingly the revolutionaries began to argue strongly that French

needed to be established as the single language of the Republic, arguing that linguistic

diversity inhibited social equality and was inefficient and cumbersome for administration.41 A single language would facilitate the free exchange of

revolutionary ideas. Furthermore, French could bind all citizens more tightly together in the face of the counter-revolutionary attacks the Republic began to suffer.

In 1794 Abbé Grégoire published a government-ordered study in which he

stated:

It is no exaggeration to say that at least six million Frenchmen, particularly in the countryside, do not speak the national language; that an equal number are more or less incapable of sustaining a coherent conversation; that as a result, the number of true speakers does not exceed three million, and that the number of those who write it correctly is probably even smaller (quoted in Grillo 1989, 24).42

Grégoire also found at least thirty dialects or distinct languages in use at the time of

the Revolution. Such linguistic heterogeneity was of great concern to the threatened

revolutionaries and their image of a homogenous French Republic. Interestingly,

Grégoire himself did not argue for a monolingual France; rather, he argues for bilingualism, asserting that regional languages “exist despite the railroads, and their

disappearance would be very regrettable; the important thing is that all Frenchmen

understand and speak the national language, without forgetting their individual

dialects (James and Gordon 1985, 114).” Indeed, policies undertaken in 1792 seemed

41 It must be noted, however, that this was not an attempt to reformulate the “nation” along ethnic lines. Indeed, the overtly functional arguments of the Jacobins stand in stark contrast to contemporary thinkers such as Herder and the Göttingen historians, along with early philologists and following in the tradition of Herodotus, who argued that language was the quintessential demarcation of a nation across time and space. For an extended discussion of Herodotus and the tradition of ethnic citizenship, see Geary 2002, especially pp. 22-46. 42 Interestingly, the sum of Grégoire’s figures vary widely from the 25 million that a 1793 census had determined to be the population of France, the results of which he certainly would have been aware.

91 to be leading towards a kind of linguistic federalism, with bilingualism and accommodations for local languages to be provided (Grillo 1989, 36).

Not everyone was agreed with this line of reasoning, however. An even more extreme position, based at least in part on counter-revolutionary resistance in outlying areas, was that ethnolinguistic groups represented “a dangerous reactionary particularism or, at best, as symptoms of an irrelevant primordialism (Safran 1999a,

117).” Some months prior to Grégoire’s report, Bertrand Barère de Viezac, in a report to the Committee of Public Safety, stated: “federalism and superstition speak low-Breton; emigration and hate for the Revolution speak German; the counterrevolution speaks Italian, and fanaticism speaks Basque (Jacob and Gordon

1985, 114).” This harder line eventually won the day and a series of laws were published later in 1794 to officially ban all languages other than French in public service and education (Safran 1999b, 42). However, the internal and external

troubles of the Republic, when combined with the limited capacity of the government

to penetrate the countryside, meant that the masses continued to speak their patois

during and after this period.

Napoleon to 1870

The period between the First and Third Republics was to see France struggle

through a series of external wars and internal revolutions leading to the end of the

First Empire (1814), the Bourbon Restoration (1815), the July Monarchy (1830), the

Second Republic (1848), and the Second Empire (1852). Perhaps not surprisingly, initiatives regarding the extension of French throughout the country were relegated to

the back burner. Officially, however, the policies of 1794 were pursued. In the

92 1820s it was decreed that “all acts of civil status (of persons) be written in French, which is the only official language. Hence the patois of the different regions in

France are forbidden (quoted in Safran 1999b, 42).” And in 1845 a French official instructed a group of teachers to “remember that you have been posted here [Brittany] exclusively to kill the Breton language (Jacob and Gordon 1985, 115).” However, such official proclamations yielded little fruit; Safran asserts that French was expanding throughout elite circles in France, quite possibly of its own accord rather than due to the efficacy of official policy, while the masses continued to speak the local language (1999b, 42-3). What is clear is that the inauguration of the Third

Republic, after defeat to Prussia, Map 3-3: Patois-speaking Communes - 186343 found that French was a foreign language for fully half of its citizens (Weber 1976, 70).

The Third Republic

Following wartime defeat to the Prussians and the internal turmoil of the Paris Commune, the newly-established Third

Republic found itself faced with a number of serious problems. The political impasse between various monarchists that had allowed the

43 Weber 1976, 68

93 Third Republic to be formed represented a shaky foundation for a state which

reasonably saw itself as a great power suffering from internal weaknesses. This

provisional government, which would last until the Nazi occupation of 1940, would

undertake policies that, both through intent and effect, would drastically undermine

local languages and identities in favor of French.

Eugen Weber finds that the gulf between the city and countryside in 1871 was vast indeed:

Léon Gambetta put all this in a nutshell in 1871: the peasants were “intellectually several centuries behind the enlightened part of the country”; there was “an enormous distance between them and us… between those who speak our language and those many of our compatriots [who], cruel as it is to say so, can no more than stammer in it”; materiel property had to “become the means of their moral progress,” that is, of their civilization. The peasant had to be integrated into the national society, economy, and culture: the culture of the city and of the City par excellence, Paris (1976, 5).

Of all the various initiatives undertaken during the Third Republic to bring the parts of France together, the one generally given the most credit for advancing a national identity was the initiation of compulsory free public education under Jules Ferry in

1877, which was conducted in Parisian French. While free schools had been established in 1832, insufficient resources and their voluntary nature limited their nation-building impact (Ager 1999, 26; Weber 1976, 303). In addition to teaching all students only in French, the symbole came into use. Any student heard speaking in patois would be made to wear a token around their neck; the actual object varied, but included cardboard tickets, a bar or stick, a peg, a paper ribbon or metal object, or a brick. The bearer of the object could pass it along by catching and denouncing

94 another student using the local Map 3-4: Entrenched areas of patois44 language. At the end of the day, the student with the symbole would then be punished.45 This method, which continued in some parts of the country well into the twentieth century, was particularly resented, yet also appears to have been effective in reducing the usage of local languages among children.

As with public education elsewhere, French schools also inculcated a shared history and civic values across the country, further helping to break down local identities. And the increasing numbers of girls in school further undermined another source of persistent localism. As a result, the extension of compulsory education served to expand French and the national identity in dramatic fashion, such that many areas with large numbers of patios-speaking communes in 1863 were largely French- speaking by 1914.

Other reforms of the period would also undermine national minority identities.

The construction of roads and railways increased communication between various regions. Military service brought men from across the country together with French

44 Weber 1976, 75.

95 as their lingua franca. Industrialization led to increasing urbanization and an

increasing sense of shared identity. Under the aegis of the French state, the effect of

these various policies, rather than exacerbating the differences among various groups,

was instead to bring them individuals together as French citizens with a common

language and culture, in short, the creation of the French nation.

Interestingly, two unexpected dissents emerged during this drive to

proactively create the French nation. First, in a famous 1882 speech entitled Qu’ est-

ce qu’un nation? [What is a nation?], the famous historian Ernest Renan, a Breton,

articulated a profoundly civic notion of French identity, representing in some respects

a return to Revolutionary Jacobinism. Renan discounted the role of “race, language,

[shared] interests, religious affinity, geography and military exigencies” as the

generators and distinguishing features of a nation. Instead, any national group required only two things: first, a common, albeit inevitably factually inaccurate, historical heritage and, second, the will to retain that shared heritage (1996, 57-8).

Anyone wishing to join in the retention and expression of the common heritage was a member of the nation, recalling in many ways the social contract of Rousseau. This position stands in stark contrast to Third Republic efforts undertaken to homogenize

France linguistically and culturally.

A second important effect of the period was an increasing anti-Semitism,

exploding in the Dreyfus Affair, which occupied the French imagination for over a

decade in the years surrounding the turn of the century (Bredin 1983, 515-516).

During the years of the Second Republic and Second Empire Jews were assimilating

45 Interestingly, this technique was adopted from the Jesuits, who had used it to enforce Latin against French (Weber 1976, 313).

96 at a remarkable pace; in many ways they

represented the ideal Jacobin citizen, with

loyalties to France based purely on a love

of the Republic rather than on any

sentimental attachment to a local region

(Safran 1995, 4). However, in 1894

Alfred Dreyfus, the only Jew on the

general staff, was convicted of spying for

the Germans based on the handwriting

(which only vaguely resembled Dreyfus’)

on a scrap of paper found in a wastepaper basket by a cleaning woman and on

evidence forged by anti-Semitic officers.

Although the government soon uncovered the actual spy, Major Esterhazy, it

argued that staining the honor of the military and the state was not worth the price of

one Jew. This line polarized French society between conservatives, the government, the Church, and the military on one side and progressives on the other. The various trials would last more than a decade and cause the collapse of a government before

Dreyfus was finally declared innocent of all charges.

The link between nation-building in the Third Republic and anti-Semitism is two-fold. First, Jewish assimilation was in part a function of revolutionary secularization. To the extent that the Catholic Church was reintegrated into French identity in the Third Republic, even long-assimilated Jews became questionable

Frenchmen.

97 Second, while the Ferry laws were actively seeking to undermine provincial

identities, at the same time the peasant as the romantic archetype of the Frenchman

with close ties to the hallowed soil reinvigorated ties between urbanites and the

countryside. Jews, however, rarely had such close associations to the peasantry; as a

result, their association with la France profonde [deep or essential France] was tenuous, even when Jews could trace their inhabiting of French towns back numerous generations. During the Dreyfus Affair it was claimed that Jews were more susceptible to being spies than others because, the argument went, their lack of a homeland rendered their allegiance to France questionable. Thus Jews, living in

French cities for centuries and fully accepting Republican ideals and assimilating into the national identity and in many respects resembling the archetypal civic citizen, were suspect because of a lack of ties to the countryside which the Romantics and the

Third Republic had reified into the quintessence of being French.

What this explosion of anti-Semitism, the residue of which still affects French politics today, illustrated was that membership in the French nation under the Third

Republic had become significantly ethnic and romanticized. To be French required an association to the land and an acceptance of the French language and culture, despite the Jacobin rhetoric of Renan and others. What must be emphasized was the overall efficacy of this approach to nation-building: while these policies to some degree reflected an abandonment of Revolutionary ideals and created a new group of outsiders from people long-assimilated and committed to Republican ideals, subsequent political mobilization of national minorities in France was to be on a

98 much lower level than in other cases which did not undertake similarly harsh

measures.

The inter-war years

Although World War I and the inter-war years was to occupy French policymakers in the years following the Dreyfus Affair, the policy of undermining local identities continued. The French rejected a Breton delegation to the Paris

Conference, stating that “France has no minorities”. And in 1924 leaders of an

Alsatian autonomy movement were put on trial and convicted.

Abroad, France played an active role in the League of Nations Minority

Treaties system (see Chapter 2), seeking to ensure the viability of new states

ostensibly created along ethnic lines according to the Wilsonian principle of self-

determination, as well as participating in League Mandates in the Middle East.

France retained its extensive overseas empire as well. Thus while domestically the

Third Republic was increasingly successful in homogenizing its citizenry, through

undermining national minority identity, and retaining its empire abroad, in Eastern

Europe it pursued policies supporting national minorities in their quest for independence. This seeming hypocrisy did not go unnoticed by domestic national minorities; however, the pressing concerns of the inter-war years crowded out minority concerns from the national agenda.

The Nazi Occupation and Vichy regime

During their occupation of Belgium the Nazis renewed their World War I policy of flamenpolitik: encouraging Flemish separatism and support for the

99 occupation through a relatively extensive devolution of institutional capacities for

Flemish areas. In France, however, the Nazis were much less decisive. On the one

hand, there were some early negotiations with, especially, the Flemish and Bretons

for special provisions in exchange for cooperation; the Bretons even formed an SS

unit during the war to fight for the Nazis. However, the newly-established Vichy

regime also needed to be placated and, despite their location in Southern France

occupying most of the Langue d’Oc, Vichy leader Marshall Petain retain aspirations

of influence and control in all of France, hoping to keep the country intact. As a

result, few concessions were made to national minorities, although the Vichy did approve the teaching of Breton language and history in primary schools.

While there was some limited collaboration with the Nazis by Bretons,

Flemings, Alsatians, and Italians, in addition to French collaboration more generally, this collaboration did not result in any special provisions for ethnic groups during the

Occupation, although some limited promises were made to the Bretons early on and

Alsace and Lorraine were re-annexed by the Reich.46 Furthermore, support for the

Nazis was limited at best, and some of the most significant support for the Resistance was also found in these areas. Nazi policy was a balance between encouraging

collaboration and retaining the cooperation of the Vichy regime and its aspirations for

the appearance of controlling France, with the tendency being to support the latter

over the former.

46 During the occupation some Alsatian activists apparently hoped for a special status within the Reich, but the region was institutionally assimilated, quashing such aspirations and significantly weakening Alsatian support for the German occupation.

100 The Fourth Republic

Following Liberation in 1944, the Fourth Republic was faced with a number

of difficulties in addition to the national minority issue. During the round-up and

prosecution of Nazi collaborators, which could be found across the country, the

French were particularly harsh towards the Bretons: 2000 arrested, 1000 sent to

camps, 60 sentenced to death, 15 executed, 1000 others killed in reprisals (Reece

1977, 166-172), indicating a return to the sentiment, if not the actual policy, of Barère

in 1974. By and large, however, the task of rebuilding France and attempts to

maintain the Empire occupied the attention of political leaders during this period.

Interestingly, a major symbolic piece of legislation was passed regarding national minorities during this period. The Loi Deixonne of 1951 provided for the elective teaching of Breton, Basque, Catalan, and Occitan after school at all levels.47

However, the wording of the law originally permitted no more than one hour per week of such instruction, subsequently expanded to three hours in 1975, and effectively prohibited teaching at the primary school level. Furthermore, almost no funding or training was provided to teachers. As a result, the law was little more than symbolic and generated more frustration than hope for national minorities (Safran

1999b, 44; Oakes 2001, 118; Ager 1999, 31; Jacob and Gordon 1985, 120-122).

Regional organizations also began to be established during the 1950’s although not expressly for the national minorities; rather, they were attempts to decentralize some limited aspects of the central state. In 1954 regional pressure

47 Corsican was added as a language in 1974. The law now permits teaching in Gallo, Alsatian and Lorraine, Tahitian, and four Melanesian languages in addition to the five languages earlier stipulated (Oakes 2001, 116). The law also stipulates a variety of Occitan dialects for instruction, rather than singling out any one of them as representative of the region.

101 groups were recognized and institutionalized as the Comités d’expansion économique in 1954, acting as regional pressure groups (1952 was CELIB). And in 1955 22 circonscriptions d’action régionale were created. These moves towards decentralization represented the beginning of a shift away from more extreme Jacobin views and support the logic of later devolutionary efforts which, at a minimum, had spill-over effects in support of regional identities. By and large, however, the governmental instability of the Fourth Republic, coupled with the pressing concerns of rebuilding France and Western Europe and dealing with a crumbling empire and war, left little energy for significant policies regarding national minorities or decentralization more generally.

The Fifth Republic

After the turmoil of the Algerian War and the collapse of the Fourth Republic, the fortunes of French national minorities improved. While institutional provisions for these groups would continue to lag behind accommodations realized by other groups in neighboring states, a clear shift in the national perception regarding the legitimacy of these groups was occurring. Interestingly, and perhaps relatedly, there was an increasing sense of the French language being under attack from, especially,

English. Thus legislation providing increasing provisions for national minorities occurred at the same time that efforts were undertaken to protect French from outside influences. An exploration of the causal relationship between these two factors will be taken up below.

102 y Supporting regional languages

In many respects the early national minority policies of the Fifth Republic

were an extension of those of the Fourth: symbolic pronouncements with little

attempt at effective encouragement. In 1963 the Délégation à l’Aménagement du

Territoire et à l’Action régionale (DATAR) was established as an adjunct to the

Prime Minister’s office. The following year the Commission de Développement

économique regional (CODER) was instituted but, indicative of the prevailing

symbolic nature of national minority policy, the CODER had a strictly administrative,

not budgetary, role. In addition, there were increasing numbers of broadcasts in some

regional languages, although many were either of dubious quality or limited to one

regional dialect, thus circumscribing their potential audience (Safran 1999: 54).

The heady days of May 1968, during which the continued survival of the

Republic was in doubt in some circles, the radical left linked with regional

movements48 to advocate decentralization of the French state and recognizing the peripheral regions of France as “internal colonies”.49 A referendum the following

year on decentralization was slated for the following year. However, the initiative

became, in effect, a vote on support for de Gaulle himself and was defeated by groups

who, under other circumstances, would likely have voted in support for the measure

(Beer 1980: 37).

Despite this apparent setback for regionalism, however, advances continued to

be made regarding policies towards regional groups, although these were mainly

48 Traditionally national minority movements were linked with conservative elements dating back to the Revolution. 49 One of the most articulate arguments of this position was from Professor Robert Lafont, an Occitan activist (Jacob and Gordon 1985: 124;

103 symbolic. One emphasis was on transforming the loi Deixonne into an effective instrument for promoting regional identity. Corsican was included as a covered language in 1974; the next year the one hour of elective language study for senior high school students was expanded to three. Despite these modifications, however, the Ministry of Education in 1976 argued that the law was essentially a “dead letter”

(Jacob and Gordon 1985: 121). The relative lack of substantive progress regarding regional identity led Michel Denieul, the Cabinet Director of the Minister of

Education, to remark in 1976:

Not to recognize the existence of such a cultural patrimony would be to deny a reality tangible everywhere and to impoverish a national treasure which is, on the whole of our territory, the sum of special relationships between the soil and the men who succeeded one another upon it. Founded on the awareness and the importance of these differences, this teaching [of regional languages] must naturally be conceived of in the absolute respect for our national unity which could not be questioned again by an artificial opposition between local cultures and the national reality incarnated by the State (quoted in Jacob and Gordon 1985: 121).

The Haby Committee report of that same year supported increasing the teaching of regional languages. However, this argument was officially opposed and, in fact,

Occitan was removed from some examinations and support for Breton bilingual classes was tepid (Ager 1999: 32). Thus while official policy continued the rather lukewarm and largely symbolic policies of earlier years, there was an emerging sense both within and outside government that a change in spirit as well as policy was necessary.

The election of Socialist François Mitterand as President in 1981 institutionalized exactly that shift in attitude. Elected on a platform of supporting and encouraging cultural pluralism and limited decentralization, which had a spillover

104 effect of supporting national minority identity, the early years of Socialist rule

represented tangible gains for national minorities. Mitterand had argued as early as

1974 that

The Socialist party has always decided to choose the development of the personality. And when one considers Brittany, Corsica, the Basque country, and the Languedoc region, too, it is true that the attempt to suffocate all the means of expression of original languages – for the structures of languages are also the deeper structures of the brain, touching the very essence of being – it is true that economic colonialism … and a certain reflex of centralistic domination of a colonialist nature – all that should be corrected … At one time the kings of France, the Jacobins, Bonaparte … were right … in their efforts to [fight against] centrifugal tendencies… Very well, it was necessary to make France. But … the necessary unity has become uniformity, in which individual being is stamped out… [Now we must respect] the right to be different (quoted in Safran 1989: 123).

The rapid passage and 1982 signing of the Loi Defferre implementing administrative decentralization, which provided direct election to sub-national bodies, while not targeted specifically to national minorities, represented a significant shift away from traditional Jacobin centralism. Corsican autonomy laws 1982 and 1983 gave the

Corsicans a directly elected popular assembly with competencies over regional issues including agriculture, fishing, communications, land-use planning, transport, technological research, vocational training, education, and culture. This approach was seen as a possible model for accommodating other national minorities. The 1982

Giordan Report recognized the existence in France of authentic “regional and minority cultures” and argued that their languages and cultures be preserved and promoted by government subsidies and overseen by a “National Commission for

Minority Cultures (Jacob and Beer 126). It argued that political citizenship is dependent on social and cultural citizenship; for the latter two to be meaningful, the

105 state needed to abandon its myopic view of Parisian language and culture in favor of accepting the linguistic and cultural diversity within the Hexagon (Safran 1989: 125).

And the Savary Circular of that same year stipulated:

y The state should be responsible for the teaching of regional languages y Regional languages should be taught from Kindergarten to University with the status of a separate discipline y Teaching should be based on the express wish of both teacher and pupil (Ager 1999: 33)

However, this initial momentum regarding national minorities did not sustain itself. In 1985 the Consiel National des Langues et Cultures Régionales (National

Council for Regional Languages and Cultures) was established; at the initial meetings were prominent members of government and various regional movements seeking to address a wide array of issues. However, funding for the Council was doubtful from the very beginning; the victory of the Gaullist-Giscardist alliance in 1986 and the ascension of Jacques Chirac to Prime Minister virtually ensured that funding would continue to be a problem (Safran 1989: 138-141). In the end, the Council only met three times and yielded no concrete results. No other initiatives of note were undertaken between 1983 and 1988, after two years of intense activity; economic malaise once again came to dominate the political agenda.

Despite the apparent waning of interest on the Left for national minority issues and the success of the Right in 1986, the progress on decentralization and recognition of regional identity could not be completely undone. Rather, the government returned to a tepid and symbolic advancing of the issue. In 1988 teaching of regional languages was redefined and teaching in the Lycées facilitated, somewhat expanding and refining the Savary recommendations. Additional

106 languages would be added to the list in subsequent years; interestingly, no single

Occitan dialect was established to represent the region; rather, multiple dialects were

recognized across the region, reflecting the pluralistic reality of the area. In 1994

teachers of regional languages in private bilingual schools began to be paid by the

state, an improvement of their status. And a 1995 Circular reaffirmed the

government’s commitment to the principles of the Savary Circular.

More recently a debate regarding national minority rights has emerged in the

wake of the approval of the Council of Europe’s 1992 European Charter for Regional

and Minority Languages. The government initiated a study by Nicole Péry, a

member of the National Assembly from the Basque region, which was subsequently

completed by Breton mayor Bernard Poignant. In these reports it was argued that

regional languages represent a valuable part of French culture and tradition and

efforts to support them should be expanded. They advocated ratification of the

Charter as part of a broader policy of encouraging national minority identities,

arguing that encouraging cultural pluralism within France may actually serve to

secure French in the European Union and globally. However, the Poignant report concludes that the most important first step is for the signing and ratification of the

Charter. While it has subsequently been signed (May 7, 1999), it has not been put to

the Assembly for ratification; the Poignant report highlights the apparent hypocrisy

by politicians who argue for encouraging decentralization and regional identity yet

refuse to put the Charter to a vote.

Most recently, the current French Government, under Prime Minister Jean-

Pierre Raffarin in an announcement on 6 September 2002 in Alsace, has proposed

107 amending seven articles of the French Constitution to refer to decentralization (AFP:

10/29/02). The proposal allows for sub-national jurisdictions to “experiment” with transfers of competence for a period of five years (Reuters: 10/29/02). There is no clear articulation of the competencies to be devolved, nor that regional powers will be symmetrical; rather, the proposal outlines the possibility of each “community” deciding via a referendum its own local powers subject to agreement by the President.

Both Houses of the National Assembly have approved the text; the Constitutional

Council is under pressure from Jacobins to evaluate the measure, but they may decline to rule on the matter. While not target directly at national minorities, this proposal represents both a continued shift away from Jacobin unitarism and a potential opening of new opportunity structures for the organized ethnic communities to exploit.

y Protecting French internally and externally

Interestingly, the postwar period, which has seen a slow increase in provisions recognizing linguistic pluralism within France, has also been witness to increasing concern for the French language both domestically and abroad. Once considered one of the preeminent international languages, in 1945 French was made a working language of the UN by only one vote (Jacob and Gordon 1985: 118). Recent decades have seen efforts to protect French in three particular veins: (1) promotion of the international status of French (francophonie); (2) reinforcing the use of proper grammar; and (3) inhibiting the inclusion of foreign, and especially Anglo-American, words (Safran 1999: 46).

108 French weakness during the Second World War and the subsequent collapse of the French empire served to undermine the stature of French abroad. In reaction to this, in 1966 the Haut Comité de la Langue Français was established for the promotion of French abroad and its protection at home. In addition, the government spent large sums subsidizing French in the former colonies, especially in Africa, encouraging francophone literature abroad, and signing agreements with francophone countries. One ambitious project was a five-year plan focusing on cooperation between France and Quebec on matters of language, education, and culture.

In 1964 René Etiemble published the first in a series of books pointing to the increasing inclusion of Anglo-American terms and pronunciations in French and labeling the phenomenon franglais (Ager 1999: 98-100). While others had pointed to the incursion of foreign words before, Etiemble’s work appeared shortly after the independence of a number of French colonies, when the status of French internationally was in question. As a result, his findings struck a particularly sensitive chord: the need to protect and preserve the French language.

In 1972 the Haut Comité set up “terminology commissions” in each Ministry attempting to ensure relevant technical terminology was of French origin. A series of ministrial decrees between 1973 and 1983 addressed the replacement of English words with French in vocabulary. And in 1975 the Loi Bas-Lauriol was passed, requiring the use of French in commerce, advertising, and other business transactions, imposing fines for violations. However, these efforts were undermined by inadequate funding, a lack of agreement on an “authorized” French, and the absence of provisions to reinforce French in scientific and educational gatherings (Safran 1999:

109 49). The Commissariat general de la langue française, one of the two bodies replacing the Haut Comité in the early 1980s, was charged specifically to fight franglais, in addition to other tasks.

In 1994 the minister of culture and francophonie, Jacques Toubon, prepared new legislation to reiterate and extend the loi Bas-Lauriol. The loi Toubon was hotly debated regarding both its necessity and the motivations behind it. While the law increased the fines for violating its provisions from those of the earlier law, it was also restricted to ensure free speech. Furthermore, the continued lack of agreement as to a standard French undermined the application of the law, both practically and in the eyes of the Constitutional Council. While it is questionable whether such laws can ever be as broadly effective as their supporters hope, it can be argued that the recurrence of such legislation stems from the alarm raised decades before by Etiemble

(Ager 1999: 114-115).

What is clear is that there is a growing sense of French itself being under attack, externally with regards to its international status and internally through the cooptation of Anglo-American phrases. Interestingly, this turn towards protecting

French may partially explain increased support for local languages in two ways.

First, the effort to protect the language from outside threats serves to open a functional space for local languages domestically. Second, by promoting cultural pluralism at home, the government can then argue for the relevance of French abroad as an international example of cultural pluralism.

110 French national identity

As stated in the beginning of this chapter, this study finds two significant factors are involved in determining national minority policy. The first, included in the discussion of various policies, is issue salience: at times other issues cause national minority policy to be pushed to the back burner, despite its theoretical importance. The second is French national identity. Specifically, three aspects appear to be particularly influential with regards to national minority policy: its mission civilisatrice, myth of natural boundaries, and the change from assertiveness to fear following World War II.

• Mission civilisatrice

One of the more interesting components of French identity has been, at least until recently, the sense that French culture had a “mission civilisatrice [civilizing mission]”. Indeed, Michelet went so far as to claim France as a “glorious mother who is not ours alone and who must deliver every nation to liberty (quoted in Brubaker

1992, 2)!” Such a self-opinion can be easily misunderstood, especially by non-

French, as hubris; however, from the French perspective this special mission is based on a long historical tradition. In particular, two historical periods contribute to the self-selection of the French for this special role in world affairs.

As described above, the language of Paris was, during the Renaissance, increasingly adopted by the nobility of Europe and becoming equated with

“European”, at least to some outsiders. English historian Thomas B. Macaulay argued:

111 France united at that time almost every species of ascendancy. Her military glory was at the height. She had vanquished mighty coalitions. She had dictated treaties. She had subjugated great cities and provinces. She had forced the Castilian pride to yield her the precedence. She had summoned Italian princes to prostrate themselves at her footstool. Her authority was supreme in all matters of good breeding, from a duel to a minuet. In literature she gave law to the world. The fame of her great writers filled Europe. No other country could produce a tragic poet equal to Racine, a comic poet equal to Molière, a trifler so agreeable as La Fontaine, a rhetorician so skillful as Bossuet. The literary glory of Italy and Spain had set, that of Germany had not yet dawned. The genius, therefore, of the eminent men who adorned Paris shone forth with a splendor which was set off to full advantage by contrast. France, indeed, had at that time an empire over mankind, such as even the Roman republic never attained. For, when Rome was politically dominant, she was in arts and letters the humble pupil of Greece. France had, over the surrounding countries, at the same time the ascendancy which Rome had over Greece, and the ascendancy which Greece had over Rome. French was fast becoming the universal language, the language of fashionable society, the language of diplomacy. At several courts princes and nobles spoke it more accurately and politely than their mother tongue (quoted in Kohn 1955, 7-8).”

It was during this period that centralization and domestic homogenization were undertaken with particular fervor. The French state was unrivaled in its power, prestige, and institutionalization. This military and cultural ascendancy left a lasting legacy on French identity which persisted even when

France’s military fortunes declined in the early 18th century.

The decline of French influence was dramatically reversed in 1789.

The universalism of Jacobin ideals and the association of the ideas of liberté,

egalité, fraternité with French language and philosophy resulted in a

newfound influence with Continental liberals. And the Napoleonic Empire

extended the concept of French superiority in a manifestly different, and more

material, way.

112 As a result, France has in recent centuries been at the center of institutional and cultural innovation. The language itself was associated with modern political ideas, scientific advancement, and cultural superiority, acknowledged not merely overseas but imitated by European cultures that might conceivably have posed an alternative to French hegemony. In this light, the French sense of a mission civilisatrice is perhaps more understandable. What is clear is that the French conceived of their identity in terms that Mill echoed: why would anyone, when presented with the opportunity to join the French nation, hold on to some other identity?

• The “naturalness” of France

One hotly-debated issue among French historians is the role that the concept of “natural boundaries” has played in French policy (Sahlins 1990, 1424). Clearly such a concept is a myth or distortion of empirical reality, as French borders have been adjusted on numerous occasions. Indeed, frequently the “naturalness” of French territory was established post hoc, perhaps in part to justify particular territorial acquisitions.

However, what also seems clear is the persistence of this myth over the centuries and its relative uniqueness to French identity. Scholars disagree as to whether the notion of a natural French space informed expansionist efforts to

(re)claim this preordained territory, finding evidence to support both French expansion based on a sense of destiny and for reasons of realpolitik. What remains clear, however, is that historically the concept of France as a natural space has

113 persisted as a theme; of the three national identities under consideration in this study, none equate territory with identity to the degree of the French.

Scholars have focused far less attention on the relationship between the

“naturalness” of France and the French sense of self than to explorations of the impact of the myth of national boundaries on foreign policy,. However, there is a clear linkage between the two:

As a model of French identity, it [the natural boundaries of France] formed part of a constitutive myth of the state. Natural frontiers appeared as one element within the shifting configuration of symbols and images of an ideal unity, a unity that drew alternately on the ideas of a shared language, a common history, and a bounded, delimited territory (Sahlins 1990, 1424).

Map 3-5: France’s “natural” boundaries This naturalness leads to the

belief in the preordination of

France as a single social

group and single political unit

(Ager 1999, 43). This land,

described since medieval times

as a “garden” or “tree”, came to

represent the best of civilization

with a language and culture to

match.50 The implications for

regional movements are

correspondingly clear. First,

regional movements, by

50 For an extended discussion of the evolution of these metaphors, see Beaune 1991, 292-8.

114 definition, are an unnatural attempt to modify a natural order. Second, tolerance of regionalism is a tolerance for something base or ignoble, undermining the destiny of

France.

Interestingly, this myth has persisted despite the uneven evolution of French borders, especially in the East. While medieval scholars argued that France was bounded on the east by the “four rivers” of the Saône, Rhône, Meuse, and Escault

(Schelt) (denoted in white on Map 5), Renaissance writers asserted the link between

contemporary France and ancient Gaul (in black on Map 5), arguing that France’s

northeastern boundary should be along the Rhine and the Alps, considerably more

eastward than the four rivers and including Germanic and Italian speakers (Nordman

2001, 103-109). Along the South, the Pyrenees seemed a “natural” boundary, despite

centuries of Catalan and Basque influence north of this boundary. And the Atlantic

Ocean and English Channel rounded out the picture. Even today France is

synonymous with “the Hexagon” (in grey on Map 5), a shape

suggesting the qualities of harmony, balance, stability, and permanence. The relative neutrality of the hexagon offered a double compromise. On the one hand, the hexagon represented a conventional and a natural unity, an identity founded at once on culture and on nature. On the other hand, it balanced the claims of a national community to self-determination with those of a state seeking defensive strategies (Sahlins 1990, 1451).

Interestingly, this concept of a natural space for France can be associated with

Rousseau:

[T]he lie of the mountains, seas, and rivers [of Europe], which serve as boundaries of the various nations which people it, seems to have fixed forever their number and size. We may fairly say that the political order of the Continent is in some sense the work of nature (Extrait du projet de paix perpetuelle de l’Abbé de Saint Pierre, 1756; quoted in Sahlins 1990, 1436).

115

While the Revolutionaries vacillated in their use of “natural boundaries”51 as justifications for border adjustment, Jacobinism could certainly find justification in

Rousseau for articulating France as a “natural” space. As shown in Chapter 2, the relationship between natural boundaries and political or group boundaries was developed by both Rousseau and Herder.

The implications for populations within these natural boundaries, regardless of which ones are chosen, are clear: everyone within these borders belongs to a single, natural French community and attempts to fragment this natural unity should necessarily be resisted. The Bretons, Basques, Catalans, and a significant proportion of Occitans are contained within each of the variations displayed in Map 3-5, while other groups fall within French purview depending on the conceptualization chosen.

While it is important not to overstate the case, and there is considerable evidence that

“natural boundaries” have had at best only limited influence in foreign policy (and, therefore, perhaps the same would hold for domestic policy), there is a reasonable connection between understanding France to be a “natural” phenomenon and resistance to those who argue otherwise; what is clear is that this particular myth, regardless of its relative weight in shaping French identity, both has persisted over centuries and appears to be peculiar to the French.

51 Historically there has been interesting vacillations between the use of the concepts of natural frontiers (frontièrs naturelles), which imply ambiguous borderlands requiring expansion, and natural limits (limites naturelles), suggesting final, unambiguous demarcations. While the use of the different terms has been associated with variations in French foreign policy, such analysis is beyond the scope of this study and its narrower focus on the persistent myth of natural space and its relationship to French identity. For a more detailed account, see Sahlins 1991; Nordman 2001.

116 The shift from pride to fear

The experiences of World War II, the collapse of the French empire, and the

rise of the American hegemon would fundamentally challenge long-cherished beliefs

central to French identity. First, it was clear that the French no longer had a

monopoly on republican ideals: “Democracy and civil liberties nowadays speak not

only French, but English, German, Spanish, and Italian as well (Safran 1999b, 44).”

Second, the hypocrisy of France’s external and internal empires became clear:

Jacobin France was, at least in this regard and despite its stated republican values, no better than its colonizing contemporaries, thereby undermining the sense of being the torch-bearers of civilization. The Left successfully seized on this duplicity to advocate a rethinking about the nature of French identity and democratic institutions more generally. Finally, the humiliation of the Occupation and subsequent decolonization put to rest the notion that France was somehow uniquely special; indeed, the growth of Anglo-American hegemony put France together with much of the rest of the world, trying to stave off cultural imperialism. While the questioning of French identity should not be overstated, what is clear is that increasing segments of the population were willing to, at a minimum, critically reevaluate their sense of self in light of France’s post-war experiences.

One result of these three factors has been to generate a unitary national identity in France. Unlike other national constructs, French identity permits no sub- national or compound identities. While this might, at least in part, be a result of the mission civilisatrice and the myth of “natural” France, there is an additional interrelated factor: the expansion of France through annexation.

117 Most of French territorial expansion, especially since the 17th century, has

involved annexation rather than territorial union; in this respect the Treaty of Union with Brittany stands out as an interesting exception, although the special provisions

given to Brittany were abolished by the Revolution. In other cases, each new territory

was immediately given French administration and laws, overriding local customs and authorities. As a result, France itself expanded, rather than the domains of the French

Crown; this pattern is in stark contrast with both the Spanish and English models,

both of which provided for some continuation of local laws or administration, thereby

maintaining some sense of regional differentiation. Thus France, through annexation, expanded its single national identity in territories which came to be part of a myth of

natural boundaries. Its successes in the 17th century led to a sense of a special mission for the French. This powerful, singular identity came to be undermined in the post-World War II period, as it became clear that French preeminence was largely an historical relic; attempts to maintain the exceptionalism of France were necessary, reinforcing the weakness of French identity internationally. As French prestige declined internationally, a reassessment of French identity, still underway, began.

Conclusion

Clearly most of the history of French national minority policy has been one of active opposition to and assimilation of such groups, coercively if necessary. No ideational space was given for accommodating sub-national identities. The sources of this single-minded approach are clear: the unitary French identity, in conjunction with the myth of natural borders and of a civilizing mission, led to the expectation that groups would seek to assimilate into the French identity; refusal to do so was,

118 therefore, not merely quaint but positively uncivilized. In the name of civilization, therefore, cultural pluralism was opposed and homogenization was almost total.

The relative success of these policies, at their peak during the Third Republic, perhaps in part paved the way for providing some space for regional identities: Only the most paranoid Jacobin would argue that any of the regional languages represented a real threat to French. Furthermore, the decline of French prestige abroad and the growing influence of English led to a shift in French identity and a subsequent change in domestic policy. Cultural pluralism came slowly to be embraced, initially on the

Left but gradually by moderates on the Right as well. The hypocrisy of denying national minority rights at home while supporting them abroad gave way to a more consistent policy in which cultural pluralism was socially desirable; thus national minorities should be accommodated domestically and French should be promoted abroad. In this way national minorities have come to be embraced as “une richesse de notre patrimoine culturel”.

The French case illustrates a number of important factors for this study. First, the process of territorial annexation to core royal holdings provided the foundations for a peculiarly singular sense of national identity, as the comparisons with Spain and the United Kingdom will illustrate. French national identity generated aggressive assimilationist policies during the late 19th century that carried over until well into the twentieth century. Interestingly, despite considerable assimilation, even these policies proved unable, in a democratic context, to eradicate local identities and languages. Thus France also shows, in comparative terms, the limits of assimilationist policies.

119 Chapter 4: Ethnopolitical Mobilization under Ethnic Nationalism – The Case of Spain

The prominence of ethnopolitical mobilization in contemporary Spain leads

many observers to conclude that nation-building in Spain is incomplete and this

failure has now been institutionalized.52 In particular, the weak nineteenth-century

Spanish state, when nation-building began in a number of liberal states, represents for

many the primary culprit. However, a much longer historical analysis illustrates that

Spanish national identity has included, for centuries, a strong regional component

compatible with the larger identity. Furthermore, to argue that nation-building was

not completed is to assume that Spanish identity could have become unitary along the

lines, for example, of France, an assumption that may not hold up under historical

scrutiny.

This chapter explores ethnopolitical mobilization in Spain through an

assessment of the formation of the Spanish state, the relationship between regionalism

and centralization, of which the ethnic regions are a part, and policies towards the

“historical nationalities”.53 As will be shown, the historical experience of both peninsular unity and cooperative division generated a “compound nationality” in which central and regional identities are not mutually exclusive (Moreno 2001a: 110-

26), standing in stark opposition to French unitary identity; interestingly and in contrast to the United Kingdom (see Chapter 5), Spanish national identity contains significant “ethnic” components. The Spanish context thus can be understood as a

52 Perhaps the best known example is Juan Linz (1973), although numerous others take the same approach to explaining contemporary ethnonationalism in Spain. 53 The Basques, Catalans, and Galicians are referred to in the 1978 Constitution as “historical nationalities” and are the groups in Spain most clearly consistent with “national minorities” as the term is used in this study.

120 continuing tension between regionalist sentiments, most clearly defined in ethnic

communities in northern Spain, and efforts to centralize central institutions and

identity, with neither side ever able to fully implement their preferences for Spanish

institutions.

The Formation of the Spanish State

The timing and process by which the Spanish state formed explains both

Spanish identity and the persistence of regional identities. Unlike France, which

expanded primarily through conquest from core holdings around Paris (see Chapter

3), Spain was formed through the centuries-long reconquering (Reconquista) of the

Muslim-dominated peninsula by separate Christian kingdoms. These kingdoms subsequently, and primarily through dynastic union, established the central government of Spain as arguably the first modern political state.

• Roman, Visigothic, and Arab Iberia

The homogenization of Iberian unity began with Rome. Roman intervention in the Iberian Peninsula in 218 BC was initially a function of its wars against

Carthage, which had moved through the region to attack Rome. For six and a half centuries the Romans occupied and assimilated the various pre-Celtic and Celtic tribes as well as the Phoenecian/Carthaginian and Greek colonies on the peninsula.

Roman control over the area was finally established at the conclusion of the “fiery war” in 133 BC with the protracted siege and fall of Numantia. Rome then proceeded to expand its administration throughout the peninsula, likely providing it with its first

121 unitary identity, although even at this time some groups in the north and northwest,

notably the Basques, successfully resisted assimilation.

Roman rule persisted until the arrival of Germanic tribes across the Pyrenees

Mountains in the fifth century. Bands of Alans, Suevi, and Vandals entered the

peninsula, overrunning and dividing the region in 407-11. This unstable barbarian

confederation, dominated by the Suevi, proved unable to resist the Visigothic

incursions which began in 456. Visigoth hegemony was established in subsequent

decades and, under King Leogivild (569-86), a homogenous administration was again

realized throughout the peninsula.54

Islamic expansion under the Umayyads brought Arabs across North Africa to

Spain in 711, as legend has it, in an unplanned attack to aid the Visigothic governor

of Ceuta against the new Visigothic King Roderic (710-11). Caught unawares while

fighting Basques, Roderic quickly moved to counter the invasion but was killed in

battle. Within a decade Muslim forces crossed the Pyrenees into France, where they

were eventually stopped at Poitiers (732).

Despite these rapid successes, however, Umayyad forces were unable to

completely subdue the peninsula. The Basques and Cantabrians remained

intransigent, while further west in Asturias a Visigothic nobleman, Pelagius (Pelayo)

led the people in a successful revolt against their new masters at the battle of

Covadonga in 718 or 722 (Collins 1995: 225). While the administration of al-

Andalus (Andalusia) eventually stabilized Islamic control over most of the peninsula,

54 Geary notes that, in Spain and elsewhere, initial Germanic incursions were not assimilationist; indeed, the Germanic invasion appeared largely to be the replacement of Roman administration with Germanic rule while preserving the existing Gallo-Roman population. Assimilation of the rulers with the ruled occurred gradually through the conversion of the Visigoths from Arianism to Orthodoxy and,

122 pockets of Christian resistance persisted in the north. A third period of relative

administrative hegemony for the peninsula had arrived.

• The Reconquista

Under Pelayo, Asturias was consolidated and by the mid-eighth century its

power was extended into Galicia, the last holdout of the Suevi against the Visigoths,

in extreme northwest Spain. In 813 the reputed tomb of Saint James the Greater was

located in Santiago, in Galicia, and a shrine was built, known as Santiago de

Compostela. The site became the goal of a renowned medieval pilgrimage, with

Christians from across Western Europe moving through Southern France, the

Pyrenees, and into northern Spain. Christian leaders proclaimed the kings of Asturias

the legitimate rulers over the peninsula, despite the powerful Islamic entities

dominating the region.

At the same time that the Asturian kings were expanding their control, French

emperor Charlemagne led repeated excursions into the Pyrenees, establishing a

Spanish March around Barcelona at the eastern end of the mountains, while powerful

Basque families, with support from neighboring Aquitaine, took control of Navarre

from local Muslim rulers at the western end. Thus three centers of Christian power,

in addition to smaller entities, were established in the northern part of the peninsula

by the end of the ninth century.

Gradually, the Asturian kings extended their power southwards from Galicia

into present-day Portugal and encouraged the repopulation of León by Christian

inhabitants (Mozarabs) of al-Andalus in the southern part of the peninsula. The

later, the ending of separate legal codes for the two communities in the sixth and seventh centuries

123 division of Charlemagne’s empire north of the Pyrenees, however, severed the

Christian principalities of Catalonia and Navarre from their main sources of support,

forcing them to self-reliance in their attempts to consolidate and expand their control.

In the south, the caliphate of al-Andalus was struggling with its own internal rebellion

as well as repeated incursions from León and Navarre; furthermore, continuing

turmoil in North Africa, a function of instability in the Islamic world more generally,

required the attention and resources of the caliphate. This weakness allowed for the

expansion of León eastward; the numerous fortifications necessary to maintain

expanding Christian control gave the region its name: Castile. After the sacking of

Madrid, a Muslim fortress, by King Ramiro II of León in 932, the combined forces of

Ramiro, Count of Castile Fernán González, and Toda, queen-mother of Navarre,

defeated the retaliatory strike of the caliph in 939, solidifying Christian control in the

north.

Al-Andalus regained the initiative under Abd-al-Rahman III, going so far as to

sack Santiago de Compostela in 997. However, after his death in 1002, the caliphate

began to collapse. After a half-dozen claimants to the office over twenty years,

Muslim Iberia balkanized into some thirty taifa of varying size; despite the

continuance of economic, scientific, philosophical, and architectural advances, the

political and military initiative shifted again to the Christian north.

During the collapse of the caliphate most of the North had come under the

control of the king of Navarre, Sancho III the Great, with the exception of Galicia and

Barcelona. However, this unity was divided at his death when his four sons became

kings: García was granted Navarre and the Basque Country; Fernando gained the

(2002: 127-35).

124 Map 4-1: The Reconquista

combined kingdom of Castile-León; Ramiro received Aragón; and Gonzalo took

Sorarbe and Ribagorza. During this period the fragmented Christian kingdoms and taifa formed alliances of convenience and fought each other repeatedly, with no clear concern for religious solidarity; this fluid context is best illustrated in the thirteenth- century poem El poema del mio Cid (The poem of my Cid), in which Rodrigo Díaz, popularized as el Cid (sidi, “lord”, from the Arabic sayyid), whose military skill and leadership led to his success fighting for and against Christians and taifa alike and eventually seizing control of the taifa of Valencia. Attempts to consolidate control in either religious area were continually thwarted by the competing ambitions of the fragmented polities; indeed, political expansion was characterized by the promulgation of fueros, statutes providing for the protection of communal customs and traditions for members of the three religious communities (Muslims, Christians,

125 and Jews) rather than through assimilation of captured populations (Moreno 2001a:

38).

This fluid environment solidified under the introduction of religious

intolerance into previously tolerant Iberian polities. The conquest of the leading taifa

capital of Toledo by Alfonso VI, King of Castile-León, in 1085 and the destruction of its Great Mosque the next year alarmed other taifa rulers, who then summoned the

Almorávidas, recent Islamic converts from North Africa, and their leader Yusuf, the

founder of Marrakech, to their aid. Deriding the laxity of the Iberian Muslim

leadership, the Almoravids were intolerant of both Jews and Mozarabs, reviving the

jihad. In 1099 the Crusaders stormed Jerusalem; in Spain the Reconquista, under the

banner of the cross and with the cry “¡Cierra, Santiago y España!” (“Close for

Santiago and Spain”), became a religious crusade. While both the Christian and

Muslim areas would continue to suffer internal division and strife, the era of inter-

religious cooperation and ambitious border lords was ended.

In Christian Iberia Portugal declared itself independent in 1139 with the

eventual sanction of the Pope. Navarre and Aragón, having earlier been united, split

in 1134; Aragón subsequently joined with the emerging Mediterranean power of

Catalonia as a federation in 1137, with each part retaining its own laws. Thus three

Christian powers emerged during the period: Castile-León, with Navarre as a subject,

Portugal, and Aragón.55 Despite the proclamation of the Second Crusade in 1145,

which included Spain as areas for legitimate conquest and facilitated early successes

by all the Christian kingdoms against Muslims both in the South and in their

55 Because Aragón was a kingdom while Catalonia was a county, the name of the former was adopted for the whole federation.

126 remaining northern strongholds, Christian expansion again ground down after the division of León and Castile in 1157 between the two sons of Alfonso VII.

To succeed his father to the Leónese throne, Alfonso IX, grandson of Alfonso

VII, was forced to call a Cortes in 1188 for recognition, an assembly of clergy, nobles, and townsmen that was arguably the first parliament in Europe and the name of the modern Spanish parliament. The son of Alfonso VIII, king of Castile, permanently reunited the crown with León after the death of Alfonso IX in 1230. He then moved decisively against the Muslim strongholds of Córdoba (1236), Murcia

(1243), Jaén (1246), and Seville (1248), leaving the vanquished Moors only their mountainous kingdom of Granada. Christian resettlement and noble power expanded into the conquered areas.

In 1212 another Crusade was issued in which León did not participate.

Castile, Aragón, and Portugal did, however, crushing the Muslims at Las Navas de

Tolosa, opening the way to expansion for all the Christian kingdoms. Losing territory in France, Aragón turned its attention towards expansion in the Mediterranean and southwards along the coast, conquering the Balearic Islands, the Moorish kingdom of

Valencia, and eventually claiming the Crown of Sicily and conquering Sardinia and even holding Athens from 1311-1381. Barcelona became the center of one of the major Mediterranean powers, while Castile-León pursued Iberian conquest and consolidation.

A series of fifteenth-century intrigues and civil wars again slowed Iberian consolidation under Christian power. However, the secret 1469 marriage of Isabella of Castile to Ferdinand of Aragón, who also ruled Navarre, and the beginning of the

127 Map 4-2: Spanish Kingdoms in 1360

crusade against Granada in 1480 led to the union of the peninsula, excepting Portugal, under a single dynasty. Finally, in 1492 Granada was conquered and Jews and

Muslims expelled from the peninsula. The Reconquista, which arguably began in the eighth century with the establishment of Asturias, required some seven centuries to undo seven years of Muslim conquest and created a number of local political entities with long historical traditions, united only at the end of the process; for Moreno:

On the one hand, the historical dynamic that generated autonomous kingdoms and territories strengthened the attachment to developing autochthonous customs and cultural traits. On the other hand, the crusading spirit against the common Muslim adversary, and, fundamentally, the unity of the Christian faith, ensured a high degree of mutual understanding and the useful ‘recollection’ of Roman Hispania and Visigothic Spain. Thus, two essential features characterized the political aggregation of the various territories of the Iberian peninsula during the Middle Ages: (1) the practice of pact-

128 making, which aimed to universalize; and (2) the fueros, which tended to particularize. (2001: 38-9)

• Hapsburg Rule

The end of the Reconquista and the union of Ferdinand and Isabella seems, in retrospect, to have been a unique moment for the unification of the peninsula, excepting Portugal, under a centralized state. Indeed, Isabella’s fervor for ridding the

Spanish Church of its abuses led to the creation of a single institution, the Inquisition, to oversee the purging of the Catholic Church in all

Spanish territories. Furthermore, the leadership of Ferdinand was widely regarded as among the most capable of his day; his contemporary, Machiavelli, regarded Ferdinand as a combination of the best qualities of the lion and the fox (Pierson 1999: 50).

However, Aragón’s dynastic concerns in Sicily and Flanders and Castile’s interests in

the New World discoveries distracted both

monarchs from focusing on internal

consolidation. Tellingly, the emblem of the two

monarchs was a yoke with five arrows,

symbolizing their working in tandem to advance

the five kingdoms of Castile, León, Aragón,

Navarre, and Granada, a symbol later used by the

Falangists (see below). Additionally, the

129 complex coat-of-arms incorporates those of Castile, Aragón, Sicily, and León. Spain,

as these symbols reflect, was a collection of kingdoms under one crown rather than a

unified entity.

The succession of Charles I (1516-1556), grandson of Ferdinand and Isabella

and born at Ghent (in present-day Belgium) indicates the persistence of the five kingdoms and, important for this study, the continuing importance of the various

Cortes. First traveling to Castile, Charles was acknowledged by the Cortes as king along with his mother, Juana la loca, daughter of Isabella. He then went to Aragón where, it is claimed, he was confirmed with nobles swearing “We, who are as good as you are, accept you, who are no better than we are, as our lawful sovereign so long as you uphold our laws, rights and privileges; and if not, not (Pierson 1999: 58).” After haggling for months for money, Charles then traveled to Barcelona for confirmation by that Cortes. However, before setting out for Valencia Charles’ grandfather, Holy

Roman Emperor Maximilian I died, making Charles the inheritor of the Austrian

Hapsburg lands and, due to this grandfather’s bribes, the elected Holy Roman

Emperor Charles V. Clearly local power persisted despite the considerable expansion of Hapsburg power; indeed, Hapsburg control was notable for its toleration of local territorial autonomy under the broader mantel of Hapsburg and Catholic rule.

The international activities of Imperial Spain are not of central concern here, other than to note that as a distraction and source of external revenue, the Hapsburg monarchs were less dependent on their Spanish holdings for revenue, excluding

Castile, and perhaps less interested in consolidation and centralization than might otherwise have been the case. Portugal became part of the Hapsburg crown in 1581,

130 again with the necessary consent of the Cortes. Yet even at times of severe crisis, such as the Thirty Years War (1618-1648) when Count-Duke Olivares, overseeing the

Spanish territories for Philip IV, called for a Union of Arms, the kingdoms refused to unite; indeed, in 1640 Catalonia and Portugal rebelled, with Andalusia on the verge of imitating them. Philip was able to recover Catalonia, but he recognized Portuguese independence in 1665. Even with the considerable cultural achievements of this period, including the publication of Don Quixote and the paintings of El Greco and

Velázquez, Spanish identity remained a vague concept. Finally, in 1701, the Spanish

Monarchy passed to the House of Bourbon under Philip V (1700-1746).

• Bourbon Rule

The ascension of Bourbon Philip, relative of King Louis XIV in France, was contested by the Hapsburgs and their allies in the War of the Spanish Succession

(1702-1714). By the end of the war Europe was exhausted, Philip had renounced any claim to the French throne through his acceptance of Salic law and lost the Italian

Hapsburg possessions while retaining the New World colonies, Philip’s competitor for the Spanish Monarchy, Hapsburg Charles III, became the Holy Roman Emperor

Charles VI, and the Iberian peninsula had been overrun by armies from Austria,

England, France, Savoy, and Holland. More importantly for this study, to reestablish control Philip conquered rebellious kingdoms, stripping Aragón, Valencia, and

Catalonia of their ancient privileges and centralizing the Monarchy along the lines of

France.56 A single, largely ceremonial, Cortes was retained in Madrid while the

56 The repression of Catalonia in 1714 also included the suppression of Catalan universities as additional punishment for their support of Charles.

131 historic kingdoms were transformed into administrative regions; further subdivisions

resulted in the creation of thirty administrative provinces.

Philip’s program of centralization yielded a doubling of domestic revenues for

the crown and, as the older nobility withdrew from public life, the bestowing of titles

by the Crown generated a new nobility beholden to the Bourbon monarchy.

Infrastructure construction and trade also increased. By the end of his son Fernando

VI’s reign in 1759 control over the Church had been extended and governmental

revenues yielded a treasury with a fiscal surplus equaling 50% of the annual budget.

Fernando’s half-brother Carlos III (1759-1788) was seen as one of Europe’s

“enlightened despots” through his promotion of “the best and brightest” to rationalize

governance, although the Catholic Church through the Inquisition retained significant

influence, in contrast to other “enlightened” monarchies; indeed, travelers to Spain

began to characterize it as backward and “priest-ridden”.

Enlightened despotism was not to last beyond Carlos III’s death. A year after

the ascension of Carlos IV (1788-1808), revolution erupted in France. Spain joined

the coalition of Austria and Prussia against France in 1792; despite French calls for

the Cortes to overthrow the monarchy and Inquisition, Spaniards appeared repulsed

by the Terror. The French invasion of Catalan, Navarre, and the Basque Country in

1794 and promises of Catalan independence failed to generate support. The

subsequent alliance with France in 1796 against Great Britain, administrative

infighting and incompetence, and naval loses undermined the monarchy.

132 The alliance with Napoleonic France and the eventual mobilization against

Portugal led to the effectual occupation of Spain by France. Rumors that Carlos IV might flee to America led to riots and the ascension of Fernando VII to the throne in

1808. However, Napoleon summoned Fernando to Bayonne in Catalan France and

forced him to abdicate back to

his father, who then turned the

monarchy over to Napoleon’s

older brother, Joseph

Bonaparte. Riots against

French troops erupted and

wholesale executions enacted,

immortalized by Goya.

Bonapartist rule in Spain was tenuous at best. In 1810 the British sent troops to free occupied Portugal and rally Spanish troops; additionally, people in the Spanish countryside increasingly harassed French troops, giving to the world the term guerrilla. With Fernando in captivity in France, a Cortes was called in 1812 in the port city of Cádiz, which subsequently provided the world with its second, and

Europe’s first, written constitution; in it, local government was reestablished under a unitary state, indirect elections based on universal male suffrage, limited royal veto, the abolition of the Inquisition, and legislative approval of ministers. However, the

Constitution of 1812 was far too liberal for many in Spain, who openly called for

Fernando to resume rule as an absolute monarch and the resumption of the

133 Inquisition. In 1813 French troops were expelled from Spain. In 1814 Fernando

returned to Spain and declared the Constitution null and void.

Political ineptitude and corruption characterized the rule of Fernando VII

(1808-1833) and his daughter Isabel II (1833-1868). Spain lost most of its empire to

independence movements; by 1825 all that remained were Cuba, Puerto Rico, Guam,

and the Philippines. Liberal resistance to the conservative monarchy dominated

nineteenth-century Spanish politics. In 1820 disgruntled military officers marched on

Madrid and demanded reinstating the Constitution of 1812, which the King acceded to. Moderate liberals lost to more extremists in the election of 1822, and the

government turned against the Jesuits. Civil war threatened when France, sanctioned

by the Quadruple Alliance, intervened to put down the government and restore the

absolute monarch. Liberal revolts persisted in the 1830s, albeit with no success.

When Fernando died without a male heir, his daughter Isabel took the throne;

a new constitution represented a limited move towards liberalization of the Cortes.

However, her uncle Don Carlos declared himself king based on Salic law, which

posited that only a male can succeed to the throne; his conservative supporters,

mainly in the Basque Country, Navarre, Aragón, and rural Catalonia, argued for the

restoration of regional privileges. The First Carlist War (1833-1839) therefore pitted

conservatives in favor of the fueros, with the Church as an ally, against Moderates

and Progressives supporting the centralized and liberalizing monarchy; the war ended

with Don Carlos fleeing to France. Isabel’s marriage in 1846 led to the Second

Carlist War (1846-1849) with a peasant uprising in Catalonia, although it again ended

in failure.

134 Political instability returned with a vengeance in the Glorious Revolution of

1868, when the military and main opposition parties overthrew the government;

Isabel II fled to France. Monarchists brought in Prince Amadeo, son of King Victor

Emmanuel II of Italy, to establish a constitutional monarchy, while Carlists promoted

Don Carlos María. Continued instability and political division led to the creation of a

Republic in 1873. The Third Carlist wars erupted in 1872; after a protracted conflict

mainly in the Basque Country, the Carlists were defeated in 1875 and the Basque

fueros revoked. Restoration of the monarchy under Alfonso XII, son of Isabel, was

achieved in 1876.

Table 4-1: Ideological and centralist/regionalist cleavages in Spain

Authoritarian Republican communists monarchists Centralist some socialists Falangists / Nationalists some liberals ethnonationalists Carlists regionalists Regionalist fuerismo some socialists old Basque nationalists some liberals cantonalismo

Of the bewildering array of political movements emerging in Spain during this

era, with the dramatic rise of anarchism among the most notable, regionalism in the

First (Federal) Republic represents a crucial element for this study. As noted above,

Carlists promoted the restoration of the fueros in conjunction with an absolute

monarchy and Catholicism. However, from the liberals emerged supporters of

federalism and, more dramatically, cantonalismo, which favored the Swiss model.

Thus both monarchists and democrats had divisions between centralizers and

supporters of decentralization and regional governance.

135 Fears of radicalism and centrifugal policies brought conservatives and liberals together in the restoration of the Bourbon monarchy under Alfonso XII and his son

Alfonso XIII, which lasted until the dictatorship of Primo de Rivera in 1923. Revolts in Cuba and the humiliating defeat to the United States in 1898 provided exogenous shocks to the Spanish political environment; while nascent industrialization generated internal pressures. After protests and bloody reprisals in Barcelona during the

Setmana Trágica (Tragic Week) of 1909, Liberals swept to power in the national

Cortes in 1910 and expanded the limited local autonomy of Catalonia in the

Mancomunitat. However, the Communist Revolution in Russia, in conjunction with increasing labor union activity in Spain during World War I generated first a highly divided Cortes in 1918, then a Conservative victory in 1920. After a military debacle in Morocco in protection of the two remaining Spanish enclaves there, anti-war

sentiment flared in Catalonia, which was put under martial law. After a series of

governments, Liberals again came to power; after easing restrictions on Catalonia,

however, violence escalated. Elections were held in April 1923, but only 40% of the

electorate turned out; the Liberals were returned with a slim majority. On September

13, the captain-general of Catalonia, Miguel Primo de Rivera was appointed Prime

Minister by Alfonso and gave him dictatorial powers similar to those granted to

Mussolini by Victor Emanuel III a year earlier.

• The Pendulum of Dictatorship and Democracy

By the time of the Primo de Rivera dictatorship ethnopolitical mobilization in

Spain anticipated that of other movements in Western Europe: a decisive shift from

conservatism to democracy. While Basque nationalism retained its conservative

136 allegiance through the Restoration, Galician and Catalan nationalism emerged clearly associated with advocates of democracy (see Chapter 6); periods of democratic reforms represented, therefore, the realization of institutional accommodations for the three linguistically distinct areas of Spain: Catalonia, the Basque Country, and

Galicia. Conversely, the dictatorships of Primo de Rivera and Franco were predicated, in part, on centralization and the advancement of Spanish identity.

Primo de Rivera’s dictatorship (1923-1929) entailed the complete reversal of

Catalan institutional accommodation and the quashing of ethnopolitical organizations and suppression of ethnic expression. After the forced resignation of Rivera in 1929, an interregenum period under Berenguer, and the abdication of Alfonso XIII and the establishment of the Second Republic in 1931, in which ethnopolitical parties established coalitions with various republican parties, ethnopolitical mobilization surged. Indeed, on the same day that the Republic was declared Francesc Macià, leader of Estat Catalá, declared a Catalan Republic and Iberian confederation. After negotiations with the Spanish government the regional Generalitat was reestablished in 1932 in place of the Catalan Republic and a Statute of Autonomy for the region was put to a referendum and approved later that year. Basque activists also declared their right to autonomy in 1931, but divisions arose between leaders in Bilbao and

San Sebastian and those of Navarre; eventually the Statute of Autonomy approved by referendum and the Spanish parliament excluded the latter from the Basque Region.

Catalonia provided the example for Basques and Galicians, who would also realize Statutes of Autonomy during the Second Republic (1931-1939). Interestingly, these successes generated movements in other, less distinctive regions, as well,

137 notably in Andalusia. This model, labeled the “integral state”, represented a

compromise between centralism and federalism and anticipated the “State of

Autonomous Communities” of the 1978 Constitution (Beramendi 2001: 93).

The years of the Second Republic were tumultuous. Martial law was imposed in 1934 after violence again erupted. Monarchists, Falangists (fascists led by Primo

de Rivera’s son)57 and even Carlists reappeared. Anarchism and communist activism

generated a reactive formation of a National Front by conservatives to oppose the

coalition of leftist parties in the Popular Front; in the 1936 elections the Popular Front

narrowly won the first round of elections and then expanded their dominance after

runoffs. While the state of emergency was continued, land reforms and amnesty for

prisoners from the October 1934 violence were implemented amid escalating political violence and strikes.

Premised on what they saw as internal fragmentation and the expansion of

“communist” power, conservatives in the military acted in July 1936 to overthrow the

Republic. General Franco declared from Spanish Morocco the necessity of military intervention, initiating the Civil War. In the early days, as Madrid’s power collapsed, local authorities and workers juntas in Catalonia, the Basque Country, Valencia, La

Mancha, and Extremadura took the lead in resisting the rebels. The rebels under

Franco received aid from both Hitler and Mussolini, but France, Great Britain and the

United States promoted non-intervention, with only the Soviet Union sending aid to

the Republicans. Despite early gains, however, the self-styled Nationalists were

unable to quickly defeat the Republicans, subjecting Madrid to a two-year siege. By

138 1939, however, the Republican forces were decimated and retreating into France;

Franco proclaimed total victory on April 1.

In the wake of the Nationalist victory, reprisals against the Republicans

included actions against ethnopolitical leaders. The Statutes of Autonomy for

Catalonia, the Basque Country, and Galicia were revoked, regional languages were

forbidden in public, and even the distinctively Catalan dance, the sardana, was

forbidden. Local government was based on appointments rather than elections, with

military officers frequently serving in civil administration posts. And the Franco

regime relied heavily on Falangists, military officers, old conservatives, church

leaders, technocrats, and, after 1957, Opus Dei58 to govern, periodically reshuffling his cabinet to prevent rivals from establishing a support base.

Franco’s Spain remained neutral during World War II, despite the earlier assistance he received from Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany. After the war Franco sought recognition from the Western Powers, but it was not until late 1950 that

Franco, now seen as a potential anti-communist ally in the Cold War, was

rehabilitated. American air and naval bases were established in 1953, and Spain

joined the United Nations in 1955. With recognition came badly needed foreign aid

and investment; the Spanish economy

The long years of Franco’s rule saw persistent attempts to homogenize

Spanish culture and identity at the expense of the national minorities and regional

57 The neo-fascist Falange movement, founded in 1933, was a latecomer to the radical Right in Spain. However, it was useful to Franco in resisting monarchists until the governmental shake-up of 1957, when Opus Dei was seen as replacing the Falange in the government. 58 Opus Dei, a secretive Catholic organization, was founded in Spain by Josemaría Escrivá de Balaguer in July 1931 and formally approved by Pope Pius XII in 1950, became closely associated with its own variant of Fascism and played an increasing role in Franco’s regime after 1959. For a more thorough treatment, see Walsh 1992.

139 differentiation. Using education and mass media, Francoism pushed assimilationist

policies in an attempt to eradicate local identities; ironically, after decades of such policies ethnopolitical mobilization reemerged under the dictator and became increasingly political in the 1960s. Interestingly, in 1966 after some 27 years of homogenizing policies, the “Freedom of Expression Law” permitted the private and limited use of non-Castilian languages and dialects; Mar-Molinero argues that this small opening reflected the self-confidence of the Franco regime and, in part, served to trivialize local cultures in the mass media (1996: 81-2). Also at this time, manifestations of regionalism were reemerging throughout Spain, with the most visible being, of course, the terrorism of newly-founded Basque separatist ETA (see

Chapter 6).

As with the collapse of the Primo de Rivera dictatorship, the demise of

Francoism after his death in 1975 unleashed a remarkable resurgence in ethnopolitical mobilization. Indeed, Basque, Catalan, and Galician groups were at the forefront in calling for the restoration of democracy even prior to Franco’s death and were particularly active in the 1975-1978 transition period. These three groups are referred to as “historical nationalities” in the 1978 Constitution; the designation singles out these areas for institutional accommodation beyond that granted to other regions.

Few in the transition period espoused the preservation of the centralist state (Gibbons

1999: 13); as a result, ethnonationalism in particular and regionalism more generally were to have a significant influence on the Third Republic. The old cleavage between centralists and decentralists that had cut across conservative, liberal, and socialist lines appeared decisively resolved in favor of the latter.

140 Interestingly, while centralization was off the political table, there was a

division between those desiring to emphasize Spanish unity versus those conceptualizing Spain as an “ensemble of diverse peoples, historic nations and regions (Moreno 2001a: 60).” Rather than a federal constitution, in which authorities are clearly delineated to the varying levels of administration and guaranteed by the constitution, the tension between these two visions of post-Franco Spain resulted in the Estado de las Autonomías, which outlines various paths by which regional competencies can be decided, including the possibility of asymmetrical devolution.

Indeed, the expectation in the Constitution is that the “historical nationalities” will have regional competencies more extensive than those of the other regions.

Map 4-3: The Autonomous Communities of Spain

However, the nascent regionalism evident in the Second Republic remerged in

the Third as well, most notably in Andalusia; that region successfully met the

141 conditions of the devolutionary process, the so-called “fast track”, intended for the

“historical nationalities”. As a result, a call for “café para todos” (“coffee for

everyone”), increased decentralization for the remaining areas of Spain, emerged.

After the failed coup attempt of February 23, 1981 (F23), the two main Spanish

parties agreed on the need to harmonize the devolution process, passing the Organic

Law on the Harmonization of the Autonomy Process (Ley Orgánicia del

Armonización del Proceso Autonómico, LOAPA) in 1982. However, Basque and

Catalan ethnopolitical leaders continue to assert the need for additional

accommodations for the “historical nationalities” beyond those of the other

Autonomous Communities to reflect their ethnic distinctiveness.

Spanish policies regarding its national minorities

Unlike France, where policies towards national minorities have largely

separate from institutional configurations, Spanish policies towards the “historical

nationalities” have been an integral part of the constitutional arrangements of

different governments. As outlined above, the centralist / regionalist cleavage has

long been part of the Spanish political landscape, cutting across conservative, liberal,

and socialist groupings. Only with the emergence of Romanticism (see Chapter 2)

and its stimulation of intellectual interest in ethnic identity can ethnopolitical

activism, often in agreement with federalist efforts more broadly, be said to have

emerged. These movements have generally been associated with the democratic left,

and their fortunes have been closely tied to democracy in Spain.

Competencies regarding ethnic identity, including culture and literature, were clearly stipulated in the Statutes of Autonomy of the Second Republic; in the Third

142 Republic the Communities can decide for themselves which of the range of

constitutionally available competencies they wish to obtain, including authority over

local languages, tourism, social welfare, town planning, and others; in addition, the

Communities decide the extent to which they will participate in “shared powers”

concerning economic and agricultural development, among others.59 Conversely, all

such provisions were abolished under the dictators and severe repression of ethnic identity was pursued. Thus it is difficult to speak of a change in “policy” in various

Spanish governments akin to the Fifth Republic in France; the governments

themselves are either supportive of ethnic autonomy (to varying degrees) or

predicated on their total opposition to such accommodations.

Spanish national identity

For the purposes of this study, the question then becomes: What is the nature

of Spanish identity? The argument of Chapter 1 is that the nature of national identity

shapes national minority policy, yet the above analysis argues that in the Spanish case

there is no clear “policy”; rather, there are fundamental changes in the nature of the

government that incorporate competing conceptualizations of Spanish identity and the

legitimacy of sub-national ethnic identities. However, there is clearly a Spanish

identity that informs both the action and reaction of various political changes in

institutionalized responses to ethnopolitical mobilization as well as the contemporary

tension between a unitary and pluralist conceptualization of Spain.

59 In 1992 an agreement was reached at the national level between the ruling Socialist (PSOE) and opposition Popular (PP) parties under which additional areas eligible for devolution were outlined in exchange for the establishment of a maximum level of regional capabilities, known as the techo, the autonomias could attain (Gibbons 1999: 21).

143 Before assessing the bases for a Spanish national identity, it may be helpful to reiterate four factors inhibiting the formulation of a single identity. Clearly language represents a powerful element; looking back to the Reconquista, the four linguistic areas of northern Iberia developed into the linguistic cleavages persistent today:

Asturias, which expanded into first León, then Castile, and subsequently across most of the interior of the peninsula; Galician, which developed alongside Portuguese out of the geographically remote northwest region of the peninsula; Basque in its area at the western littoral of the Pyrenees; and Catalan, from the French border southwards through Valencia along the Mediterranean coast. While not linguistically distinct, the southern area of Andalusia, where Moorish power was concentrated and most enduring, evidences cultural differences. Third, dynastic ties and imperial interests abroad served to distract elites from domestic consolidation, particularly during

Hapsburg rule. Finally, centuries of internal division, even when under the unified monarchies of the Hapsburgs, provide historical reinforcement for these main cleavages.

There are, however, strong integrationist factors at work as well. Perhaps the clearest basis for Spanish identity is Catholicism: Its role during the Reconquista was significant and, as argued above, the Inquisition represented the first all-Spanish institution since at least the Visigothic kingdom of the seventh century. However,

Catholicism as a unifying factor in national identity formation is also problematic: Its universalism implies, at least theoretically, to work against precisely the kind of particularism central to national identity formation. Where there are geographical religious boundaries, such as the period of the Reconquista, religion can serve as the

144 basis for identity-formation (Barker 2003:8-9); when such cleavages are removed,

however, the salience of religion as a component of religious identity diminishes.

Thus while Catholicism clearly represents a unifying factor, absent a religious frontier

the power of a shared religion to assimilate people appears limited.

Spain had, however, precisely the kind of central institutions under which

national identity formation can occur at various periods in its history. As outlined

above, the eighteenth century Bourbon monarchy represented precisely the kind of centralizing institution-building scholars look to as vital for national identity formation. Furthermore, the use of force by Philip V to establish his monarchy and the abolition of most fueros which accompanied this violence are additional factors facilitating national identity formation.

Third, the drive of the Castilian crown to expand through the interior, in addition to its economic importance during the imperial era, led to its cultural and linguistic preeminence through the peninsula and the adoption of Castilian as the standard language of Spain. Significant literary and cultural works produced in

Castilian areas provide many of the artifacts around which a national Spanish identity can be constructed. In the seventeenth-century the Church, schools, and the military increasingly used Castilian (Mar-Molinero 1996: 74). Finally, the establishment of the Real Academia de la Lengua Española in 1713 facilitated standardization and

promulgation of the language.

Furthermore, there are shared historical experiences of unity to draw from.

Roman and Visigothic centralization, Catholic cooperation, however intermittent,

against Islam, and Spanish imperial splendor all represent past experiences all people

145 in Spain can presumably draw from. Interestingly, the long siege of Numantia

against the Romans has also been used to illustrate the shared intrinsic courage and toughness of “Spaniards”, implying the pre-Roman population to be unified and the basis for modern Spain (Díaz-Andreu 1994: 199-200). And, of course, the glories of

Imperial Spain, the first power with an empire on which the sun never set, could be claimed by all Spaniards.

Interestingly, a glorious past could be paired with a more recent past of weakness and humiliation in the cultivation of a shared identity. In particular, the

Napoleonic invasion and resistance came to be seen as a war of independence in which Spaniards fought together, even when politically divided, for the sake of

Spain.60 Junco argues that Spaniards could represent themselves as “the humble

long-suffering subject aggrieved by insolent, haughty foes” and, in contrast to proud

Brittania and defiant Marianne, Spain was the Mater Dolorosa (1996: 91). Thus

shared triumphs as well as shared tribulations could be woven into a tapestry of

Spanish identity covering everyone in the polity.

There are, therefore, substantial elements for both centralizers and

particularizers to drawn from in arguing for their version of Spanish identity. Table

4-2 illustrates the commonalities and contradictions of these competing

conceptualizations:

60 Conversely, the humiliation of the 1898 defeat at the hands of the United States appears to have substantially weakened national unity and identification.

146 Table 4-2: Competing Bases of Spanish Identity61 National Golden Age Decadence Redemptive Ideal Histories of Spain Middle Ages: Hapsburg: foreign Freedom, Liberal- Cortes, absolutism, democracy, progressive fueros, repression of the federalism (in some democratic town Comunidades of version) councils, Castile, religious tolerance suppression of local fueros King Reccared 17th century: Unity ‘on all fronts’ National-Catholic (Visigoth), ‘feebleness’ of the last (political, religious, Ferdinand III, Hapsburgs, linguistic, racial) Catholic kings, Philip II, 18th century: Strong crown (without Counter- ‘Anti-Spanish’ interference in religious reformation, Bourbon reformism, matters Council of Trent, Golden Century, 19th century: mystics and revolutions, theological plays, a-religious drift anti-Islamic wars, European hegemony of the Hapsburgs

Clearly both sides in the debate have considerable bases from which to construct the modern tension between Spain as a polyethnic community and Spain as the land of

Spaniards.

Interestingly, of the three cases explored in this study, Spanish national identity is by far the most “ethnic” of the three. Catholicism and, perhaps to a decreasing extent, language represent central components to Spanish identity. Clearly the shared experiences of the Reconquista, the Golden Age, and the War of

Independence against Napoleonic France all contribute to a shared sense of identity, in addition to such cultural achievements as literature, art, and music. While other national identities also incorporate these aspects, there is in the Spanish case a clear sense of identity that moves beyond the purely civic, perhaps in part due to the

61 Reproduced from Junco 1996: 102.

147 vicissitudes of Spanish political institutions and power over time: unlike French and

British identity, which can clearly be associated with certain political ideals and

power, in Spain any cohesive identity would necessarily need to be based on

something deeper than political ideals, given the wide range of institutional

experiences Spaniards have undergone. Thus the compound nationalism of Spain,

clearly distinct from the French unitary identity, is also differentiated from that of the

British case, in that the national identity appears to be more ethnic than civic.

Conclusion

Clearly in Spain there are centuries-old countervailing forces at work

impacting the formation of a cohesive Spanish unity, which have been both effect and

cause of differing political institutional arrangements. The tensions between these

competing visions, rather than having been resolved favorably for one side or the

other, appear instead to have generated the novel Estado de las Autonomías, in which neither a formal separation of powers nor explicit unitarism have been institutionalized; rather, there is freedom for each region to determine, within certain limits, its own appropriate level of competencies. Just as a unitary government in such a plural environment may be neither appropriate nor desirable, a unitary identity may be equally problematic. Rather, the “compound identity” of Spain both reflects and reinforces the evolution of Spanish political institutions.

Periods of democracy have, in the modern, been the times of greatest accommodation of regional, including ethnic, accommodation, usually through

Statutes of Autonomy or their institutional equivalent. Over the same period absolutism has been synonymous with the elimination of allowances for, especially,

148 national minorities. Thus although it is difficult to speak of particular policies

towards these groups implemented by the national government, one can trace the ebb

and flow of the implementation of political accommodations over time.

The Spanish case, when combined with the analysis of France, reinforces some of the preliminary findings outlined there. The differences in historical experiences regarding state territorial consolidation reasonably appear to explain

some of the differences between Spanish and French national identities: in Spain,

periods of institutional and identity unity are interspersed with eras of cooperative

division, leading to a national identity in which both national and sub-national

identities have long historical roots and, therefore, legitimacy; this stands in stark

contrast to the French experience of territorial annexation and identity assimilation.

As a result, policies towards national minorities, particularly under periods of

democracy, are similarly distinct, with Spain institutionalizing accommodation while

France pursued assimilation. The next chapter explores the United Kingdom,

providing further evidence for these state-level dynamics by illustrating a third type

of national identity.

149 Chapter 5: Ethnopolitical Mobilization under Civic Nationalism – The Case of the United Kingdom

In some ways the British case represents a mid-point between French

Jacobinism and Spanish compound identity: ethnic identities persist at the sub-

national level as in Spain, but the national British identity is similarly civic as French

identity. However, the historical path of British state-building has been remarkably

different from either of these cases. The British Isles have never been unified under a

single legal code, even during the Roman period; furthermore, Latin never penetrated

the countryside as it did in France and Spain, providing a linguistic basis for a single

identity. Centralization during the Middle Ages was continuously interrupted,

reinforcing the persistence of ethnically-distinct regions. Finally, the British State

was eventually formed by a union of parliaments with some region retaining their

legal code and distinctive religion. The seeming “middle ground” of British national

identity and resultant national minority policies can be understood as the culmination

of a dramatically different historical path than of either France or Spain.

The Formation of the British State

• Roman Conquest

One of the more significant differences between Great Britain and France and

Spain in antiquity lies in the incomplete and at times tenuous Roman conquest of the island as opposed to the total conquest of both Gaul and the Iberian Peninsula. Two expeditions by Julius Caesar, in 55 and 54 BC, failed to establish permanent bases on the island, although there is evidence of peoples in south-eastern Britain trading and

150 paying duties on such goods during this time (Todd 1999: 4-14). Long-term Roman intervention was not attempted again until almost a century later.

In AD 43 the Emperor Claudius, perhaps more for reasons of internal politics and prestige than due to the advantages to be realized by a successful invasion

(Salway 1997: 57-9; Potter Map 5-1: Roman Britain62 2002: 25), again attempted to take the island; this time, however, Rome was successful in establishing itself in the south-east and a new province was institutionalized. Military action continued towards the south-west (Cornwall) and west (Wales); ongoing revolts in the latter required considerable military activity and fortification, resulting in successful pacification by the 70s.

Agricola, governor from AD 78 to 84,63 continued the Roman expansion, first by finishing the campaigning in North Wales and seizing the island of Anglesey,

62 James 2001: 35.

151 where remnants of various groups had fled (Potter 2002: 32-3). He then turned his

attention northwards, undertaking a series of successful campaigns along the eastern

shoreline; in addition, naval units attacked the Shetlands, Orkneys, and Hebrides

islands and, presumably, looked across the narrow channel to Ireland. These successes, however, ensured Agricola’s recall to Rome, albeit with honors, by the new emperor Domitian for safe-keeping. Gains in the north were abandoned shortly thereafter to the Solway-Tyne line between present-day Carlisle and Newcastle-upon-

Tyne. Later emperors Trajan (88-117) and Hadrian (117-38) constructed a series of

fortresses along this frontier and, eventually, a continuous wall across the frontier,

both as symbols of Roman power and to prevent incursions from the north.

Hadrian’s successor Antoninus Pius (138-61) sought to extend the British

frontier northwards, again perhaps for reasons of prestige (Salway 1997: 148). The

Romans moved to the Forth-Clyde isthmus, where Edinburgh and Glasgow are today,

and erected a turf wall and fortresses along this line, known today as the Antonine

Wall. Control of the area shifted between the Romans and two confederations: the

Caledonians and the Maeatae;64 the emperor Septimius Severus (193-211) himself

successfully campaigned in the far north, compelling the Caledonians to surrender,

and reconstructed Hadrian’s Wall. After Severus died, however, his son withdrew the

Romans to Hadrian’s Wall; the Romans never again tried to conquer Scotland. For

some two centuries after Severus died there was relative peace and stability in Roman

63 Roman governorships were normally for three-year terms in an effort to prevent such rulers from establishing an independent powerbase from which they might threaten the Emperor. This was particularly true of areas with large militaries, such as Britain. Agricola’s consecutive appointments were, therefore, somewhat unusual. 64 Fourth-century chroniclers begin to refer to the Picts, which appear to be a combination of these two confederations as well as other groups north of the frontier; references to the Caledonians end about the same time (Casey 2002: 81-2).

152 Britain; on the Continent Germanic tribes had begun to move across the northern

Rhine in increasing numbers and internal political turmoil was a continuous source of

difficulties for the Empire. This long peace in Britain led to the neglect of frontier

fortifications, including Hadrian’s Wall, with periodic attempts to revitalize the defenses of the island. Interestingly, in the third century coastal fortresses appear on the English Channel and the relocation of troops from Hadrian’s Wall to man them points to increasing problems with Germanic raiders as well as the importance of

Britain as an outpost of Roman authority at a time of increasing instability across the channel (Todd 1999: 161).

While it is difficult to pinpoint the date of the collapse of Roman power, in

410, the same year Rome is sacked by the Visigoths, Emperor Honorius tells the

British civitates they must fend for themselves (James 2001: 88-9).65 Earlier incursions by the Picts and Scots (from Ireland, appearing on the scene in the fourth century) are mentioned, but the Romans appear to have successfully fended them off.

However, troubles across the Channel and the emergence of a series of claimants to the Roman throne, including a few originating in Britain, drained military resources from the area. Saxon raiders appeared to increasingly establish themselves in the same areas the Romans first gained a foothold; by the mid-fifth century Saxon dominance of the former Roman areas is manifest (Black 2000: 23-5).

What, therefore, was the Roman contribution to the formation of the British

State? While Hadrian’s Wall continues to serve as a rough indicator of the division

65 Some scholars argue that this alleged dictate was actually directed to Calabria (Bruttium) rather than Roman Britain. However, what appears certain is that Roman power was being dramatically withdrawn from many peripheral regions, including Britain (Cleary 1990: 137-9).

153 between Scotland and England,66 and the parallels between Roman and subsequent

English inabilities to subdue the north are, at a minimum, interesting, too much

should not be read into these similarities. Of greater interest are the success of one

Roman import, Christianity, and the failure of another, Latin (Kearney 1989: 20-7).

Christianity spread across the British Isles, extending beyond Roman Britain.

In the later decades of Roman rule, the Church represented a unification of the region

beyond political boundaries as well as a connection between Britain and the

Continent. The Church also became the repository for Roman learning during the

waves of Germanic invasion; indeed, it was the isolation of the Irish Church from

these upheavals and the missionary efforts of Irish monks, first in Scotland, then in

England and the Continent, which has lead one author to conclude that the Irish

“saved” civilization (Cahill 1995).

The Church also represented the last bastion of Latin, which in Britain was unable to establish itself as a permanent feature of the region, in contrast to France and Spain, most of whose languages are derivative of Latin. While Roman rule in

Britain was centuries shorter than that of Gaul or the Iberian Peninsula, this cannot in itself explain the failure of Latin to penetrate the local population; Romania, the last

major territory to be annexed by Rome, was conquered under Trajan in 106 and lost

to the Goths some 165 years later, yet Romanian is as similar to Latin as Italian

despite its being in the eastern, Greek-speaking, part of the Empire (James 2001: 60-

2). Roman control of England lasted from AD 43 to at least 410, yet Latin was

quickly replaced outside the Church by Old English in most areas, with others

66 The modern border is north of the wall but in the same region.

154 retaining their Celtic languages.67 While this does not definitively demonstrate the

weakness of Roman control, it certainly is consistent with the impression of Roman

control as being somewhat weaker on the British frontier than in other areas.

Interestingly, therefore, Britain represents the one European region where lengthy

Roman rule did not result in Latinization.

• The Beginnings of Regional Consolidation

As stated above, the early Germanic migrations on the Continent, while

bypassing Roman Britain, left it isolated from the Empire. However, later incursions

in Britain from the north, west, and east, at a time of general weakness in the Western

Empire, led to the rapid collapse of Roman Britain. The result was the replacement of Roman rule with Anglo-Saxon hegemony which, administratively and linguistically, was to have a more significant impact than Roman rule or that of any subsequent invaders on the history of the island.

The expansion of Anglo-Saxon rule appears to have resulted in both

assimilation and emigration of the Briton population, perhaps most notably of people

in Cornwall fleeing to Brittany in north-west France (Black 2000: 28-9). The British

Isles can be divided at this time, very roughly, into five large ethnic groupings: the

Irish (Scots) in Ireland and Western Scotland, the Picts in Scotland, the Britons,

remnants of Roman aristocracy, and the Anglo-Saxons. By the tenth century these

five broad groups had become only three: the Scots and the English were now dominant, with Britons persisting as increasingly distinctive and small Welsh and

Cornish communities on the western fringe of England.

67 There has been some uncertainty as to the language(s) spoken by the Picts and whether it was even

155 The Angles, Table 5-2: The Anglo-Saxon Invasion68 eventually settling

generally between the

Humber River and the

Tweed (the current

north-eastern border with

Scotland; Dumville

1989: 213-4), appeared

in the seventh century to

have extended their

dominion over the

southern Saxon and

Briton kingdoms; indeed,

one king, Oswiu, and his

successor Ecgfrith (670-

85) appeared to have

extended Angle control

over the whole island for a few years. Pursuing Breton warriors fleeing his army,

Ecgfrith even occupied the Isle of Man in the Irish Sea and invaded the eastern coast

of Ireland (James 2001: 136-7). However, this potential seventh-century unification

of the British Isles was not to last: In 685 Ecgfrith was killed in battle against rebelling Picts and the unified Angle control was subsequently resisted. Nonetheless,

Celtic, but more recently scholars assert its connection to Welsh, Cornish, and Breton. 68 James 2001: 102.

156 Anglican dominance lasted into the ninth century and gave the island two related

languages: English and, confusingly, Scots.

In the south small British, Saxon, and even Roman kingdoms persisted,

although they increasingly recognized Angle hegemony. In particular, British control

persisted in Cornwall and Wales, from whence Welsh and Cornish (and Breton)

subsequently diverged.69 After Northumbrian dominance, the Anglo-Saxon kingdom

of Mercia emerged as the most significant power, extending Anglicization throughout

the South with the exception of Cornwall and Wales, with the latter being cordoned

off by Mercian King Offa (757-96) by his Dyke, the last great linear defensive work

in Britain, running the length of the Welsh-English border. Mercian dominance represents a continuation of the consolidation of Anglo-Saxon rule in southern

Britain, albeit a shift from one regional center to another (James 2001: 145-6).

In Scotland, Wales, and Cornwall a process of consolidation similar to that in

England was occurring. In the north Pict dominance was increasingly overshadowed by the Scots (Mitchison 2002: 5-6). Although the process by which the Scots penetrated and subverted Pictish society is unclear, what is clear is that the Pictish language, probably related to Welsh and Cornish, vanished and was replaced in the

Highlands by Gaelic, imported from Ireland, and Scots, derived from the Angles. In

Wales, the northwestern kingdom of Gwynedd extended its dominance over the other

Welsh kingdoms, although this process was somewhat hampered by Irish settlement in the area and the rise of Mercia to the immediate east, at least until the construction of Offa’s Dyke. Finally, Cornish consolidation emerges somewhat later than Wales

157 or Scotland, but by the ninth century there appears to be relative unity of the peninsula under kings in Exeter (Filbee 1996: 74-5).70 While the centralization in these areas was not carried to the level of that in England, the most significant local power in the British Isles and in all areas must be understood as a purely relative concentration of power, Map 5-3: The Viking Interregnum71 the outlines of modern regional divisions begin to emerge.

• Viking Incursions

This process of uneven but ongoing consolidation in the

British Isles, with Anglo-

Saxon institutional standardization clearly more advanced than other groups and contributing to the ongoing extension of their power, was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of Viking raiders at the turn of the ninth century.

69 Irish, Manx, and Gaelic in Scotland are closely related to each other and more distantly to British, reflecting the pattern or Irish expansion eastward; it is not likely that the two language groups were mutually comprehensible by this time. 70 In Ireland there appears to have been no progress towards general consolidation during this period, although the five historical provinces are somewhat identifiable as differing kingdoms. 71 James 2001: 235.

158 While there were clearly contacts between, at a minimum, Northumbria and

Scandinavians prior to this period, the latter now appeared in force as raiders, initially with large raids in Scotland and Ireland, but by 841 the entire eastern coast was being ravaged; as early as 854 the Vikings were holding territory in England as military strongholds, and Norse settlement began by the end of the ninth century, particularly in Scotland and its Islands, York in north-central England, and in Ireland, where they established the first towns on the island.

There were two lasting effects of the Norse interlude. First, considerable numbers of Norsemen, particularly Danes, settled in Great Britain (Williams 1999:

70-1). After a renewed series of raids at the end of the tenth century the Danes were primarily concentrated in York, in the heart of the Angle kingdom of Northumbria.

The Scandinavians also established themselves in Wales, Ireland, the Isle of Man, northern Scotland, and the Orkneys and Shetlands; in these latter two areas they appeared to have expelled or exterminated the entire existing populations. Yet these holdings were never unified under a single ruler, although they did adhere to a separate legal code, the Danelaw; in fact, there was an early and persistent division between Danish power in the south and Norwegian settlements in Scotland and, later, the emergence of local Scandinavian interests against both these sources, with

Vikings from the Orkneys raiding Norway and Denmark. While the Scandinavians did pass along place-names and words into English, in addition to contributing to an already complex genetic soup, their political institutions were short-lived and they were assimilated into the existing population.

159 The second impact of the Norse interregnum was the impact on the existing

regional kingdoms of the Isles (Kearney 1989: 55-9). The Danish settlement in

Northumbria eliminated the Angle kingdom as a center of power, separating a small

group of Angles in Lothian (near Edinburgh) from the rest of the country. The Briton

kingdom of Strathclyde in southwestern Scotland was similarly eliminated.

Scandinavian attacks against Mercian and the Picts did not eliminate those

entities. However, the weakening of these centers of power provided opportunities to

other groups that were not so clearly the focus of Norse attacks (James 2001: 230-4).

In the south, the Saxons of Wessex expanded at the expense of Mercia; under King

Æthelred and, in particular, his brother Alfred the Saxons increasingly resisted

Danish expansion and began to consolidate their power. By the end of Alfred’s reign

in 899 the West Saxons were on the offensive, asserting control over Anglo-Saxon

areas still under Scandinavian control. His son, King Edward (the Elder, 899-924),

extended Saxon rule further, pressing northwards to the Humber River and, in 918,

seized Mercia; in Wales, which had long looked to the Saxons to balance against

nearby Mercia, the Welsh kings recognized Edward’s supremacy while retaining

independence. In Northumberland, Edward successfully took Nottingham and York,

centers of Danish power. And Edward’s son Æthelstan (924-39) extended Saxon rule

over Devon and Cornwall in the extreme southwest of Britain, after which Cornish

independence was never a significant issue; at the battle of Brunanburh, Æthelstan

and his brother Edmund ætheling (939-46) appear to have severely damaged

Northumbrian power.

160 Conquest under Edward brought administrative organization and

centralization. The shire system was extended throughout the region, often redrawing

older administrative borders to undermine potential rivals from these areas. Saxon

settlement into the conquered areas was encouraged, solidifying their rule. Thus the

Viking incursion in England had shifted power again, this time to West Sussex, which

proceeded to consolidate its rule, with the notable exception of Wales, which retained

their administrative independence as subject kings. Saxon rule was not entirely

stable, however. On occasion Mercia and Northumbria would revolt or support rival

claimants to the English (as the region was increasingly called) throne. There were

additional Viking raids as well, and a brief period of Danish kingship (see below).

Thus consolidation and centralization, while clear features of Saxon rule, must be considered relative to earlier periods of significant instability and fragmentation.

In the North a similar dynamic played out. Northumbria served as both a buffer and barrier between non-Scandinavian areas, limiting cooperation and, perhaps more importantly, any attempt by a single power to unify the island. As stated above, the Viking attacks greatly weakened Briton Strathclyde and the Picts. This provided an opening for the Scots, who invaded and largely subsumed both entities. They then moved against the Angle enclave in the Lowlands and began to pressure Northumbria from the north. This process was somewhat later than Saxon expansion and was undoubtedly partially a function of Northumbrian weakness resulting from southern

Saxon attacks, but by 1018 Scottish rule approached the old Roman frontier. While the administrative institutions of Scotland are not clear, what is not in dispute is that the Scottish kingdom managed to incorporate and assimilate, in varying degrees,

161 Scots, Picts, Britons, Norwegians, and Angles in the northern part of the island, perhaps indicating a relatively significant political institutional cohesion.

Finally, in Ireland Viking attacks and the foundation of towns had not resulted in extensive territorial control comparable to Northumbria. Indeed, there was a greater mixing of Danish and Norwegian power and competition in the island.

However, there was also little progress towards Irish centralization and consolidation; in fact, individual Norse outposts became caught up in the internecine conflict of the various Celtic rulers, with the Irish seeking allies among the Scandinavians in their conflicts against each other. While the Irish successfully resisted Norse expansion and eventually assimilated the newcomers, no lasting political unity was realized.

• Norman Conquest

The conquest of England by the Normans in the eleventh century represents the last invasion of the island from the Continent and the final opportunity for an outside power to unify the Isles under a single administration. As with other interventions, the Norman Conquest was forced to limit its aspirations and vary its approach in its attempts to consolidate rule in the British Isles, resulting in distinctive institutional arrangements for England, Ireland, Wales, and Scotland. Furthermore, while French did become the language of the court, it too failed to penetrate the countryside, leaving English and the Celtic languages intact.

The start of the new millennium found the British Isles in varying states of consolidation and centralization. England and Scotland had emerged from the Norse interregnum as fairly stable separate entities, with Wales under the sway of England, while Irish fragmentation persisted. Clearly England was the most serious potential

162 claimant to unify at least Great Britain, if not Ireland as well; Campbell argues

England was clearly a nation-state, more centralized and unified than any other authority in Western Europe at the time (2000: 30). While Campbell’s claim may be

somewhat overstated, the Domesday Book (1085), a survey of 13,418 settlements in

English counties, illustrates a remarkable degree of institutional standardization and centralization for its day. However, the process of expansion and consolidation was

again interrupted, this time by decedents of the Norse: the Normans. Interestingly,

the result was to be an increase in institutional centralization in both England and

Scotland, increasing the salience of the border between the two British powers.

Norman penetration into English society began some fifty years before the

Battle of Hastings in 1066 and was a function, in part, of a last attempt by the Danish

to seize control of England (James 2002: 266-70). After the death of Æthelstan in

939 the Danes under Olaf Guthfrithson attacked and regained York in Northumbria;

an agreement between the archbishops of York and Canterbury gave Olaf dominion over the Danelaw, the area of Danish settlement. Control of the Danelaw vacillated between the Scandinavians (Danes, Norwegians, and Irish-Norwegians) and the

English. Raids intensified after 980 and became relatively continuous after 997;

interestingly, the English state was able to continue its consolidation during this

period despite Viking incursions (Loyn 1994: 65-6). In 1016 the English recognized

the Danish Cnut as their king.

The Danish interlude (1016-1041) did not, however, result in the

establishment of Danish institutions; in fact, Cnut continued the consolidation of

English institutions and stressed continuity between English and Danish rule,

163 symbolized by his marriage to Emma, Norman princess and the widow of Saxon King

Ethelred. Despite gaining considerable control in Denmark, Norway, and part of

Sweden, Cnut preferred to remain primarily in England. Tension between Cnut’s two sons and a fear of a return of the instability of the period before Danish rule eventually led to their agreement to the ascension of Edward the Confessor, son of

Emma and Ethelred and their half-brother, in 1041; furthermore, it appears that

Norman support was necessary for Edward to fend off the pretension of Earl

Godwine of Wessex and a growing faction of nobles around him (Black 2000: 44-6).

Edward’s reign (1041-66), was relatively peaceful in no small part due to divisions between Norway and Denmark. A final Viking incursion in England was defeated at

Stamford Bridge on 25 September, 1066, by Edward’s successor Harold just three weeks before the devastating Norman invasion (Black 2000: 46-8).

There was, therefore, a clear Norman connection with England prior to

William the Conqueror. Furthermore, it had become apparent by the 1040s that

Edward was unable or unwilling to father an heir to the throne, again raising the specter of a succession crisis like the one leading to Edward’s ascension. By the time of his death two distant heirs to the throne appeared: Harold, grandson of Edward’s sister, and Duke William of Normandy, who may have been promised the throne by

Edward in return for Norman support of his ascension. Upon Edward’s death, Harold was duly consecrated and William opted for invasion.

At the Battle of Hastings Harold was killed and his forces defeated. The

Normans proceeded to capture cities vital to establish their control, and William’s coronation was on Christmas Day, 1066. Norman control was not secured, however,

164 until 1075, after both uprisings and invasions from Ireland and Wales by supporters of Harold’s sons had been defeated. The normal pattern for the extension and

consolidation of Norman control was to move into a region, build strongholds, and

found towns and monasteries, which it immediately began to do across England and into Wales (Kerarney 1989: 68-70). A Norman aristocracy was established alongside, and at times supplanting, the English aristocracy, but English institutional

organization was retained, with William replacing Harold as King of the

comparatively centralized English state.

Wales, an early concern of William, was a different matter altogether. First,

while Welsh kings had on occasion unified the region, these periods tended to brief.

Rather, separate kings preserved their independence, usually with some nominal recognition of English overlordship, with internal power struggles and raids into

England continuing; the Welsh, while never a threat to the English state, were also never subdued by it. Unlike in England, therefore, the Normans were unable to replace a central authority with their own. Rather, penetration into Wales was piece- meal, relying in part on the initiative of ambitious nobles seeking to expand their holdings through adventures on the frontier. There was a progressive expansion of

Norman power, but it was unsystematic, only loosely based on royal authority, resulting in a relatively independent Welsh-Norman aristocracy who were willing on occasion to challenge the authority of the Anglo-Norman monarchy (Kearney 1989:

72-.

In many ways the situation in Ireland was similar to that in Wales, where a

“high-king” would emerge from time to time, but whose reigns tended to be short-

165 lived with no resulting institutionalization of political authority. Even Viking towns fell into this pattern, allying individually with various Irish kings in their internecine battles. Eventually, the Irish conquered and/or assimilated the Norse towns. Thus by the time of the Norman invasion in 1170, Ireland remained free from English intervention but highly fragmented.

While there are some indications that William himself was interested in crossing the Irish Sea, by the time of Henry II (1154-89),72 his great-grandson, the

Normans had extensive interests in France as well as the need to maintain control in

England and Wales and ward against Scotland (see below). The question of Ireland was, therefore, not a top priority, despite the issuance of the papal bull Laudabiliter in

1155, by the only English Pope, Adrian IV, giving sanction to an English conquest of

Ireland. Thus when King Dermot, having lost in war and fled Ireland, looked for assistance from Henry, the reply was tepid. However, on the way back to Ireland

Dermot went through Wales and found a powerful Anglo-Norman knight currently out of favor with Henry and willing to help. Richard FitzGilbert de Clare, known as the “Strongbow”, soon led an army of Normans and Flemish, who had also settled in

Wales, quickly captured the town of Waterford, married Eva, Dermot’s daughter, and was designated the heir to Dermot’s throne of Leinster per the agreement with

Dermot. He then moved north and captured Dublin, causing its Norse-Irish king to flee to the Hebrides off the Scottish west coast; Dermot died the following spring, making Strongbow king of southeast Ireland in 1171, albeit contested by Irish opponents (Bartlett 2000: 85-90).

72 Henry’s father was the Duke of Anjou; as a result, Henry and his sons are referred to as the Angevin kings.

166 The potential threat to Henry posed by an independent Strongbow, in addition

to a fear of reprisal for the killing of Thomas Becket December 29, 1170, led Henry

to fulfill the Laudabiliter and invade Ireland, where all the kings, priests, and Richard

paid homage. Henry gave territory to Hugh de Lacy in Meath (around Dublin) to

counter Richard’s power and designated Irish Rory O’Connor as High King of the

unconquered territory, while Strongbow himself submitted to Henry’s overlordship.

Norman rule in Ireland was, therefore, incomplete and dependent on local nobility

who frequently used their local power to resist that of the English king, similar in

many respects to Wales. The Irish would occasionally organize to threaten Norman

power, even offering in 1263 the high kingship to Haakon IV, King of Norway (who

died before he could act on the offer). Finally and perhaps most interestingly, the

Anglo-Norman and Welsh-Norman aristocracy increasingly “went native”, such that

by the end of the thirteenth century English authority was evident only in the

immediate area of Dublin, known as “the Pale”. The Normans also established a

legal code and Parliament (1297), providing the foundation for consolidation of political power in Ireland distinct from England, if still under the English Crown.

To the north of England, a relatively united Scotland presented a dual threat to

William both as an independent military power and as a refuge for his English

opposition. The Norman invasion provided Scotland, under Malcolm III Canmore

(1054-1093), both the need and the opportunity to expand southwards into

Northumbria. William responded with a land and sea expedition, resulting in a treaty

in 1072; he does not, however, appear to have seriously considered the conquest of

Scotland.

167 Norman penetration into Scotland was, therefore, of a decidedly different

character than in either England or Wales and Ireland. Here Normans were sought

for their military and castle-building expertise; in return, they were given land by

Scottish kings to encourage settlement. Norman martial and administrative expertise

reinforced the power of Malcolm’s descendants to consolidate their rule, particularly

over the Norse-Gaelic of the Outer Hebrides (1266).73 As in Ireland, however, the

Normans were assimilated into Scottish society, changing names and adopting the local languages of Gaelic and Scots. Eventually the Scottish kings would come to

recognize the English king as overlord while retaining functional independence.

Thus in Scotland and England Norman influence strengthened the

consolidation and institutional capacities of those governments; in both regions the

institutionalization of political authority is reflected in relatively unproblematic

successions into the thirteenth century. In Wales and Ireland the Norman influence

was also in the direction of centralization under English dominion, but in both areas local nobles retained varying degrees of independent sources of power and influence and would prove to be continual problems for the Anglo-Norman monarchy, which reached its peak under Edward I (1272-1307); Wales was finally subdued in 1282 after two centuries of Norman effort, while Ireland remained under uncertain control

(Bartlett 2000: 90-2).

• The Hundred Years War

After Edward I the Norman Empire, both in the British Isles and in France, began to come apart. After his successes in Wales, Edward had taken the opportunity

73 The Orkney and Shetland Islands were ceded from Norway to Scotland in 1468.

168 to deepen his overlordship in Scotland during a succession crisis for the Scottish

crown. This “Great Cause” (1291-2) was opposed by the Scots, who sought both

French (1295) and papal aid in their effort. However, the lack of English control of

the northern seas and an inability to penetrate the north and west of Scotland limited

their successes to the Lowlands. Military success by William Wallace and the

emergence of Robert Bruce as a claimant to the Scottish throne gradually pushed

back the English advance, particularly after the battle of Bannockburn (1314), with the treaty of Northampton (1328) recognizing the kingship of Robert and surrendering the English claim to overlordship (Black 2000: 76-7).

Robert quickly sought to extend his gains and exploit English weakness in

Ireland, where a group of Gaelic chiefs offered him the high kingship; the English were now on the defensive against a possible pan-Celtic resistance. However, Robert was eventually killed in Ireland and the Gaelic leadership returned to local squabbling, permitting the English to retain their overlordship there. Thus Scottish

independence was restored, but no broader sustained anti-English coalition emerged.

Following the forced abdication of Edward II in 1327, Edward III (1327-77)

led a renewed attempt to bring Scotland back under English control. After an initial

invasion, in which Scottish King David II fled to France (1334), the English were

unable to solidify their control. Instead, in 1337 Edward claimed the French crown,

initiating what became the Hundred Years War (1337-1453).

The war with France over English territories on the continent ended with the

English holdings reduced to a small enclave around Calais. For the purposes of this

study, however, the effect of the protracted conflict on English authority in the British

169 Isles is of particular interest. As noted above, the Scottish were in alliance with

France; while military engagement against England was largely limited to small

border attacks, with the notable exception of the sending of Scottish reinforcements to

France in 1419; the Scots took advantage of English difficulties to solidify their

control, achieve limited gains southwards, and secure the border. After the conflict, an Anglo-Scottish peace treaty in 1475 and the declaration of “perpetual peace” in

1502 represented the institutionalization of Scottish independence.

Likewise in Wales and Ireland, the war led to increasing reaction against

weakening royal authority, albeit without the clear focus of a king the Scottish

situation provided. In Ireland, despite the attempts of Richard II (1377-99) to bolster

English authority, local magnates were effectively in control of the country;

equilibrium had thus been reached in Ireland, but English control was nominal. In

Wales the situation was direr: Owain Glyn Dŵr, a direct descendant of two Welsh

dynasties, with some support from the clergy and Norman-Welsh aristocracy, led a

rebellion in 1400 which lasted for a decade, with lingering resistance continuing until

1415. Closer to the English heartland and better organized than Irish resistance, the

Welsh uprising posed a considerable threat to the English, with the rebels putting

between 10,000 and 30,000 men in the field, although many of these were guerrillas

rather than regular forces. Indeed, by 1406 the Welsh were granted a Welsh Church

independent from Canterbury by the Pope in Avignon, reflecting their considerable

early successes (as well as French support for the uprising). However, the Welsh

Church represented the only lasting gain from the rebellion, as the tide had already

begun to turn against the rebels. By 1410 the war was effectively over and much of

170 the leadership executed; Glyn Dŵr himself vanished sometime after 1412. After

1410 prospects for Welsh independence were ended.

After this period the situation in the British Isles was relatively stable.

Scotland was clearly independent, Wales was clearly not, and Ireland, as ever, was ambiguous. English commitments in France and, later, during the War of the Roses provided space for an increasing Gaelicization across Ireland, which was largely controlled by three magnates: the earls of Ormond, Desmond, and Kildare. Of these,

Kildare emerged to govern Ireland for both Yorkist and Lancastrian kings during the

War, although Ireland normally represented a Yorkist bastion. More importantly for this study, during a period of imprisonment of Gerald Fitzgerald, the “Great Earl”, for supporting a Yorkist imposter, Sir Edward Poynings summoned a parliament where a series of statues, known as Poynings’ Law (1494), were passed effectively reducing the Irish Parliament to a rubber-stamp of English authority for three centuries. Even after the return of the Great Earl to rule Ireland, these statutes were retained.

The Pale, an area around Dublin populated with Anglo-Irish landlords and under the direct rule of the English, continued to shrink during this period, illustrating eroding English control: from Norman control of most of the island 1300, control shrank to nine counties in 1366 around Dublin, a radius of some 60 miles in 1400, and 20 miles by the early sixteenth century (Landon 1981: 49, 53, 59). Outside the

Pale the “wild Irish” exercised significant degrees of independence, albeit absent any coordinated resistance to English rule. Thus formal institutional control was consolidated by Poyning while functional control beyond the Pale remained fragmented.

171

• The Tudors

It must be stressed that the centralization of the late Norman period must be

understood as purely relative: In all areas there was considerable local power and royal authority was frequently challenged. Furthermore, to speak of coherent identities in these areas would be equally questionable. However, the four distinct regions of England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland were clearly subject to English rule to varying degrees; it is precisely in these areas, after an interlude of English expansion and hegemony, that ethnopolitical mobilization most clearly and forcefully reemerges.

English expansion, both in the British Isles and abroad, required further consolidation of institutional authority on the domestic front. After Tudor victory in the War of the Roses Henry VII (1485-1509) undertook a process of concentrating power in order to rule as well as reign. The death of so many opponents to Tudor authority on Bosworth Field provided Henry with a rare opportunity not only to place allies in key positions, but also to expand royal control; Henry did both.

Under Henry VIII (1509-47), the English were able to extend their power outward from a comparatively secure position. First, the marcher region of Wales, under English authority but close to rebellious Ireland and ever suspect, was institutionally assimilated into England. In a series of acts passed in 1536-43, retrospectively labeled as the Act of Union, the March and Welsh Principality were abolished and the region reorganized into thirteen counties along the lines of England.

Welsh representation was transferred to Parliament in Westminster, and English was declared the only official language.

172 Henry’s attention next shifted to Ireland under the so-called “Second English

Conquest”. First, Gaelic chiefs were offered land and titles in exchange for renouncing their language, laws, customs, and clan leadership and proclaiming allegiance to the king; many chieftains accepted the offer. In 1534 “Silken Thomas”, the tenth earl of Kildare, led a rebellion on the rumor that his father, imprisoned in the

Tower of London, had been executed. The rebels also took up the cause of the papacy, hoping for support from Charles V; however, no support was forthcoming, the rebellion crushed, and the Geraldine dynasty of Kildare, the remaining potential source of indigenous power in Ireland, extinguished. Further rebellions were easily crushed, their leaders imprisoned in England and their property seized. After the break with Rome, Henry established the Church of Ireland (1537) and the Kingdom of Ireland (1541) with himself as the head of both.

However, these efforts, while reducing potential Irish counters to English authority, did not represent its functional extension; by the 1570s it was clear that the countryside was not won over to English rule, as rebellions again emerged, encouraged by Spain in retaliation for English support of Dutch Protestants. Earlier,

Mary Tudor (“Bloody Mary”, 1553-8) introduced the policy of “plantation”: driving out the native Irish from the land and replacing them with loyal English settlers. The

Irish Parliament enacted legislation renaming the counties of Leix and Offaly on the eastern edge of the Pale Queen’s and King’s counties respectively, confiscating the entire territory, and establishing English law and organization over the territory; two- thirds of the population was to be planted with Englishmen born in England or

Ireland. Under Elizabeth I (1558-1603) plantation was used to expand Protestant

173 control, particularly in Munster in southwest Ireland with the confiscation of 500,000

acres in 1584; however, insufficient yeomen could be found willing to settle in an

increasingly hostile territory, limiting the effects of the plantation.

During the Tudor period Scotland was also brought back under English sway,

but in a manner completely different from Wales and Ireland: monarchical union.

James IV (1488-1513) had, on the ascension of Henry VIII, sought to break the treaty

of Perpetual Peace by invading England while Henry was fighting in France.

However, the Earl of Surrey, fighting for the English monarch, decimated the Scottish

forces, including the king, three bishops, eleven earls, fifteen lords, and

approximately 10,000 soldiers. James V was an infant and his mother was Henry’s

sister; however, the old allegiance with the French resurfaced with James’s marriage

to the daughter of Francis I, king of France, and, following her death, Mary of Guise.

The English attacked in 1542, again defeating the Scots; James V died a month later,

leaving six-day old Mary Stuart as his heir. In 1543 the Treaty of Greenwich was

signed, stipulating the marriage of Mary to Henry’s son Edward. After Henry’s

death, England again attacked Scotland; Mary was removed to France, the French

King Henry II declared war on England, and Mary was pledged to the Dauphin, heir to the French throne, scheduled for 1558.

Mary represented Catholic restoration in most English eyes and, therefore, a fundamental threat to Protestant England. The Scottish Reformation under John

Knox generated a similar resistance; after the death of Francis II, Mary’s husband, in

1560 and her return to Edinburgh, fears that Mary, a legitimate claimant to the

English throne, might succeed Elizabeth I, led to Mary’s forced abdication in 1567 in

174 favor of her son James and imprisonment by Elizabeth in 1568. She was eventually

beheaded in 1587. With the end of the Tudor line on Elizabeth’s death, James VI of

Scotland gained the English Crown as James I, bringing the two kingdoms together under the Stuart crown.

• The Stuart Monarchy, Cromwell, and the “Glorious Revolution”

The joining of the English and Scottish crowns represented a significant move

towards the unification of Great Britain, and James clearly hoped to realize

institutional consolidation of the island through joining the parliaments, laws, and

churches. However, parliamentary resistance to his efforts limited the union to

economics, limited recognition of joint citizenship, and a

flag combining the standards of Saint Andrew and Saint

George (Morrill 2001: 352-3). The two great goals of

his reign, the fuller union and the rationalization of

revenues (the “Great Contract”), failed to be realized, yet the union of the crowns laid

the foundation for the establishment of the United Kingdom a century later.

In Ireland James undertook the most successful, from the perspective of the

English crown, plantation, that of Ulster by Scot Presbyterians. That northern

province had long represented the most significant area of Irish resistance to English

authority; following the famed Flight of the Earls in 1607 in which key members of

the Ulster aristocracy fled to the Continent to avoid arrest, James seized their property

and brought in settlers from Scotland, who proved much hardier than English settlers

in fighting the “wild Irish”. Both official and private plantation resulted in large

numbers of Scots moving to Ulster and, on arrival, realizing economic and political

175 dominance over the Irish Catholics there. Map 5-4: The Plantation of Ireland74 Furthermore, across Ireland English law

and administration began to be more

clearly enforced, so that by the end of his

reign James had established the most

extensive degree of external control in

Ireland since the Norman invasion some

450 years earlier.

These gains were threatened, however, by the instability of the reign of Charles I (1625-1649). The problems of

that turbulent period are too numerous to cover here; instead, the emphasis will be on

those events reflecting regional agitation. The initial threat to the integrity of the new

Kingdom of Great Britain originated in Scotland, where James and Charles each had

only gone once following the Union. The attempt to introduce reforms into the Kirk

similar to those implemented in the Anglican Church, among other issues, led to open

rebellion in 1637. Attempts to invade in 1639 and 1640 were turned away and the

English were forced to sign the Treaty of Ripon, recognizing territorial gains and paying Scottish expenses until the treaty could be ratified by a Parliament. In

Northern Ireland the English mobilized the Irish against the Ulster Scots. However, the inability of the English crown to pay the soldiers led to a revolt by the Irish in

1641, who also moved to disarm the Ulster Protestants.

The Civil Wars (1642-1651) are themselves too complex to be reconstructed here. However, the three regions in this study participated differently, leading to

74 http://www.rootsweb.com/~irlkik/ihm/ire1600.htm

176 different repercussions after the regicide in 1649. Wales was staunchly royalist throughout the period. Scotland eventually entered the first civil war in league with the Parliament, but supported Charles in the second against the now Puritan- dominated Parliament. In Ireland, the initial revolt led to the mobilization of the military against the Irish; however, the Scots-Parliamentary alliance divided the military in Ireland; the need for troops led Charles to negotiate a cease-fire in Ireland in 1643; fighting began anew in 1648 in a bewildering constellation of alliances and grievances. Royal control had vanished across the British Isles.

England’s only experience as a Republic was also the only time when the

British Isles were united under a single administration and legal code, as the

Cromwellian Commonwealth of England, Scotland and Ireland (1651-1660).

However, Scotland and Ireland were administrative regions rather than areas with representation in the Parliament, although the Scots did gain a limited representation after 1657. With the backing of the powerful New Model Army, English law and administration were extended throughout the Isles. Cromwell’s rule in Ireland, however, was particularly harsh; building on the earlier Plantation system, he ordered

Irish landowners to vacate their holdings (which were given as payment to soldiers and as interest to those lending money to the Parliament) in exchange for land west of the Shannon. Catholics were sent “to Hell or Connaught” in an attempt to establish a reservation for Irish Catholics in the west of Ireland.

The Commonwealth did not long last after Cromwell’s death, however, and in

1660 Charles II (1660-1685) was restored to the throne. Scotland was immediately restored with its separate church, legal code, and parliament. In Ireland, the problem

177 of land claims led to a settlement establishing a significant number of former soldiers as landowners; however, under the Catholic Stuarts Irish fortunes revived, although the territory continued to be ruled by a lord deputy appointed by the crown. When

Charles’s brother and successor, James II (1685-1688) unexpectedly had a son, the

Protestants of England and Scotland moved to support Charles’ Protestant daughter

Marry and her husband, William of Orange. The “Glorious Revolution” was hardly bloodless, however: supporters of James in Scotland and, in particular, Ireland were subject to bloody reprisals for their allegiance.

• A Kingdom United

The Glorious Revolution did have one major impact on regional relations in the British Isles: the parliamentary union of Scotland and England in 1707, creating a united, if not completely unified, Great Britain. Despite early efforts to maintain its independence, in particular the 1703 Act Anent Peace and War and the Act of

Security passed the following year argued for an independent foreign policy and the possibility of a separate Scottish succession after the death of Anne (1702-1714) respectively. The English Parliament responded with the Alien’s Act which would prohibit all Scottish imports if a Hanoverian succession after Anne was not accepted.

The Scots acquiesced, and Scottish independence was terminated with the Act of

Union (1707), in which Scotland retained its law and Kirk but exchanged its

Parliament for 45 seats in the House of Commons and 16 in the House of Lords in

Westminster. Despite occasional Jacobite uprisings in support of Stuart aspirants to the throne, by the end of the eighteenth century Scotland was firmly enmeshed in

178 Great Britain and committed to its policies of empire and economic expansion. A

Scottish parliament would not be reestablished until 1999.

The other kingdom under the Union of the Crowns, Ireland, was to fare much

more poorly than Scotland. Jacobites successfully raised an army with support from

France to oppose the Williamite succession and in 1689 controlled all but two small

enclaves, Londonderry and Enniskillen, both in Ulster. However, the early gains

were soon lost, William entered Ireland in 1690, and at the Treaty of Limerick in

1691 the Jacobite resistance was broken. That same year the English Parliament

passed an act banning all Catholics from sitting in the Irish Parliament, in addition to

requiring an oath of allegiance denouncing the most basic Roman Catholic beliefs

from every person over eighteen, with fines, imprisonment, and confiscations as

punishment. Further acts passed by the Protestant-only Parliament expanded on the

institutionalized restrictions on Catholics, including banning public mass and

banishing all members of the clergy. These and additional acts, most of which were

kept in place until the Catholic Emancipation of 1829, served to consolidate English

control in Ireland and eliminate the island as a potential springboard for English

enemies to attack Great Britain. These measures appeared to achieve the desired

result: despite Jacobite uprisings in Scotland in the first half of the eighteenth century

and promises of aid from France, the Irish refused to support such efforts.

The harsh policies of the British in the eighteenth century drove much of

Ireland into abject poverty, with the notable exception of Ulster Presbyterians, where

Belfast was quickly transforming itself from a small town to a significant center of industry and trade, although the reliance on the textile industry meant that prosperity

179 was frequently undermined during slack markets. The British viceroys in Dublin,

after 1691, spent decreasing amounts of time in Ireland, usually limited to a few

weeks when the Parliament was in session (Landon 1981: 185). Administrative

positions were normally granted to Englishmen rather than Anglo-Irish Protestants;

furthermore, Poynings’ law ensured that political power remained in Westminster,

where Ireland had no seats. Some in Ireland sought to realize institutional union

along the lines of the 1707 Act with Scotland; however, the English were steadfastly

against the proposal, in no small part due to English landowner fears of having their

markets flooded by cheaper Irish goods. Instead, economic and institutional policies

towards Ireland ensured its continued suppression and backwardness.

Despite limited terrorist activities by the “Whiteboys” and “Oakboys” in the

South and Ulster respectively, British rule in Ireland was relatively peaceful for most

of the eighteenth century. Continued exploitation and, in particular, the conversion

by landlords of arable land into pasture for the British cattle market made the

prospects for most Irish bleak; many Catholics but even more Scots-Irish emigrated to

America. However, by the last quarter-century a small but influential group in the

Irish Parliament, the “patriots”, began advocating on behalf of all Irish against the harsh policies imposed by Westminster. The pressures of the American War of

Independence and the example it set for the unhappy Irish led to limited reforms in an attempt to forestall an uprising. In 1780 many of the economic restrictions were repealed; soon thereafter the British surrender at Yorktown led to a successful repeal of Poynings’ Law and, in 1783, the legislative independence of Ireland was established, although executive power continued to be in the hands of appointees

180 from London. The Grattan Parliament, named after one of the most eloquent advocates of the Irish cause, lasted from 1782 to 1800 and oversaw a remarkable growth in Irish industry and trade and the lifting of many restrictions against

Catholics.

This brief interlude was not to last, however. Some activists, notably Wolfe

Tone, increasingly supported Catholic emancipation and the complete reform of Irish politics; across the Channel in France, however, the Terror caused many in Britain and Ireland to be suspicious of ceding too much to the masses. Religious tensions again flared, with Protestants and Catholics forming paramilitary organizations such as the “Peep-o-day Boys” and the “Defenders”. Early success by the Protestants in sectarian violence led to the formation of Orange orders, so-named after William of

Orange, and the slogan “to Hell or Connaught” reappeared on the doorways and walls of Catholic homes. Tone, who had earlier gone into hiding, traveled to the United

States in 1795 and, in 1796, he successfully convinced the French to send troops to

Ireland to fight the British; however, storms and Irish apathy brought the venture to naught.

Reforms by Grattan continued to be thwarted, while Orange orders began arming and training in large numbers to oppose any possible move towards independence. British regulars were sent to the island and began terrorizing Catholics to root out sympathizers of groups such as the United Irish and Defenders. Matters came to a head during a general uprising on May 23, 1798, where some four thousand peasants faced British militias at the Hill of Tara, the ancient center of Gaelic power; some 350 were killed by the British. In response, small groups of Catholics rose up

181 and began killing Protestants. The country slipped towards anarchy, aided by a

renewed French interest under Napoleon in the unstable British flank.

The solution to the crisis was political union along the lines of 1707.

Narrowly defeated in 1799, the Irish Parliament passed the necessary legislation in

1800 over the objections of Grattan; on January 1, 1801 the United Kingdom of Great

Britain and Ireland came into being. Ireland

was given thirty-two seats in the House of Lords

and 100 seats in the lower chamber; with limited

exceptions there was complete economic union

as well. Finally, the banner of Saint Patrick, a red diagonal cross on a white

background, was incorporated into the Union Jack.

While the Union of Scotland and England was proving to be relatively

amicable, that of Great Britain and Ireland was increasingly strained. Although

resistance to British rule largely disappeared after the Catholic Relief Act of 1829,

despite the effective disenfranchisement of most Catholics with the raising of the property qualification. Supporters of repealing the Act of Union found the Irish increasingly quiescent, such that even the great famine of 1845-1849, exacerbated by inadequate and half-hearted British responses to the crisis, failed to generate rebellion despite the deaths of an estimated one million people out of a total population of eight million and the emigration of hundreds of thousands more.

By the 1880s tensions were again on the rise with religion as the defining social cleavage, in contrast to a century before. In 1870 the Home Government

Association (HGA) was formed, advocating a federalist arrangement between Ireland

182 and Great Britain, following the example of the United States and, in 1867, Canada.

After electoral success for the HGA and its subsequent transformation into the Home

Rule Association (HRA), prospects for institutional reform in Ireland appeared bright.

However, the HRA’s leader, Isaac Butt, a conservative seeking to ensure both

Catholic and Protestant support, refused to sanction a formal political party, expecting

instead that HRA representatives would vote together only on the issue of institutional reform in Ireland; as a result, Irish nationalists in particular became dissatisfied with Butt’s conciliatory approach and advocated obstructing

Parliamentary proceedings to force the issue of reform, forcing the ouster of Butt’s and the election of Charles Stewart Parnell, a Protestant, as leader of the Home Rule

Confederation, an expanded HRA advocating home rule for all the regions of the

United Kingdom.

Parnell’s efforts and rhetoric brought issues to a head: if obstructionism, an attempt to coerce the ruling party to address Home Rule, failed, hopes for a parliamentary solution to the growing crisis should be abandoned. Obstructionism also brought in more radical nationalist groups, such as the Clan na Gael, which had heretofore opposed participation in the British Parliament as tantamount to selling out; furthermore, funds began flowing from the United States to Parnell’s new organization, the National Land League, which advocated land reform as part of the process of empowering the Irish peasantry. Thus federalists and nationalists found common cause under Parnell and electoral successes increased.

Thus the issues of institutional and agrarian reform had been brought to a head. The Irish country began withholding rents and blocking land seizures, causing

183 the British government to send in troops in spring 1882; attempts to resolve the dispute were derailed after a subgroup of the Irish Republican Brotherhood assassinated the new chief secretary for Ireland, Lord Frederick Cavendish, and his undersecretary T.H. Burke. Interestingly, these attacks led to a realization on both sides of the need to realize reforms to avoid increasing conflict. In quick succession bills reforming land tenancy and the male franchise in Ireland were passed; support for Parnell’s Irish National Party increased as a result. After new House of Commons rules limited the potential for obstructionism, supporters of Home Rule elected increasing numbers of MPs to give the movement formal organization and weight; in

1885 Home Rule votes brought down the Liberal government and blocked its return despite Liberal winning the largest number of seats. Gladstone, leader of the

Liberals, converted to supporting home rule, and the Home Rule MPs brought the

Liberals into power later that year.

Electoral success yielded marginal institutional reform, however, and the Irish were increasingly radicalized, with the flow of funds from the United States ensuring a steady resource-base for nationalist activities. Personal scandal brought down

Parnell, while the war in South Africa heightened British jingoism, which increasingly portrayed home rule as unpatriotic. Unionists, brought to power in 1895, appealed to Irish Anglicans and Nonconformists that they would not be “abandoned” by the British: limited reform in Ireland was needed, but home rule was off the table.

Paradoxically, by the end of Unionist rule in 1906 many of the long-standing economic, political, and religious grievances of the Irish had been addressed;

184 however, Irish nationalism had moved beyond reform, demanding home rule and, increasingly, independence.

In 1912 Liberals returned to power and Home Rule back on the agenda,

Ireland was on the brink of civil war, with British conservatives enflaming, in particular, Ulster Unionists by obtaining the signatures of 471,000 Unionists, some in blood, to resist home rule at all costs; an Ulster volunteer army was formed and, in

Great Britain, some two million signatures were collected pledging British support for

Unionism. The Great War served to broaden this divide. Irish contributions to

British forces were substantial, with 40% of the adult male population participating in the military. The horrors of the war led both sides to argue that their contribution to the British cause should result in governmental support for their respective positions.

Apparent British preferences for the Unionist position led to the Easter Uprising of

1916; lasting a week and ending in the clear defeat of the Irish nationalists, the action nevertheless indicated strong support for an independent Ireland. Sinn Féin

(Ourselves Alone) swept the 1918 elections outside Protestant Ulster and formed a republican assembly, the Dáil Eireann, in January 1919. That same month a vigorous guerilla war was undertaken by the Irish Republican Army (IRA). After two years of violence and atrocities on both sides a peace treaty was negotiated, partitioning the island and establishing the Irish Free State.

The partition occurred in the historical province of Ulster. Three of the nine counties became part of the new state; of the six remaining counties only three were majority Protestant, although the those three counties also contained the bulk of the population in the new “statelet” of Northern Ireland; thus Protestants were, at the time

185 of the separation, two-thirds of the total population. The British state was renamed

the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, although the Union Jack

was unchanged.

Northern Ireland was initially granted home rule with a parliament at

Stormont, outside Belfast, which neither the Unionists nor the Republicans

(supporters of union with the Free State) desired. In 1972 Stormont was suspended

and “direct rule” from Westminster introduced. The Parliament was restored in 1999

as a result of the 1998 Good Friday Agreement, suspended again in October 2002,

with elections scheduled for May 1 2003, recently postponed until May 29 2003, to

restore home rule. In 1999 Scotland realized both an Executive and Parliament, while

Wales gained an executive. Thus the institutional evolution of the British Isles

continues today.

British “National Minority” Policies

Not surprisingly, perhaps, the asymmetry of institutional consolidation in the

British Isles is reflected in asymmetrical policies towards national minorities. Unlike

France, where expansion and territorial annexation by a core group resulted in

centralized, strongly assimilationist policies, and Spain, were the historical tensions

between regionalism and centralism produced an ongoing institutional struggle with

“national minority” policies embedded into varying institutional framework, the

consolidation of the British Isles into two powers, one clearly dominant yet never able to unify all the various regions, with a third area fragmented yet only rarely governable produced a set of policies distinct from both France and Spain.

186 Also, and in stark contrast to both France and Spain, “is the almost total lack of attention to any relationship between the English language and national identity

(Grillo1989: 44).” Language laws, central to French national minority policies, are

relatively scarce in Britain; rather, the emphasis has been on varying attempts at

institutional expansion in national minority regions. Each facet of British policies

will, therefore, be explored.

• National minority policies

As noted above, the early history of the British Isles is one of linguistic

fragmentation, with Latin failing to penetrate the Celtic-speaking areas under its

control, let alone those outside Roman dominion. The waves of invasions from the

fifth to twelfth centuries introduced a variety of cultures and languages to the isles,

but it was the pair of incursions bookending this period that most affected the

linguistic map of the British Isles: the Anglo-Saxons and the Normans.

Old English, based in particular on the West Sussex dialect of Anglo-Saxon,

was able to succeed where Latin did not, incorporating the Celtic countryside.

Pockets of Celtic remained on the western and northwestern periphery of Great

Britain and, of course, in Ireland, where the Anglo-Saxons did not venture.

Furthermore, the language resisted subsequent incursions of Old Norse, successfully

absorbing those peoples and expanding Old English with some Norse grammar and

vocabulary, no doubt in part due to the success of the Anglo-Saxons and Irish Celts in

resisting political domination by the Scandinavians.

The Norman invasion was an altogether different matter. William and his

successors replaced the ruling Anglo-Saxon elite and established themselves in Wales

187 and Ireland, bringing their version of the langue d’öil to the Court and courts; in

Scotland, where the Scottish rulers retained political power yet invited significant numbers of Normans to settle in Scotland as nobles in a bid to bolster the Scottish state against England, this process was more protracted. Britain at this time parallels

France, in that French was the language of the elites while the masses retained their various local languages.

Interestingly, and anticipating the Ordonnance of Villers-Cotteret (1539, see

Chapter 3, p. 87), the English passed the Statute of Pleading (1362) legislating the establishment of an official language. In contrast to the Ordonnance, however, the

Statute rejected the language of the Court and of the Statute itself, French, in addition to Latin, in favor of English:

that all pleas which shall be pleaded in [the King’s] courts whatsoever, before any of his justices whatsoever, or in his other places, or before any of his other ministers whatsoever, or in the courts or places of any lords whatsoever within the realm, shall be pleaded, shewed, defended, answered, debated, and judged in the English tongue, and that they be entered and enrolled in Latin. (Quoted in Grillo 1989: 47)

The loss of most of its French holdings earlier in the century may have facilitated the acceptance of English as the language of the Court, but subsequent statutes in 1650 and 1731 reflect the persistence of French and Latin, albeit almost exclusively as legal languages.

Clearly establishment of any single official language would impact minority languages; as English power expanded Cornish, Welsh, and Irish were at a functional disadvantage. In Scotland the situation was somewhat different, in that Gaelic was giving way to Scots, an Anglo-Saxon offshoot related to English. However, the

188 similarity between Scots and English facilitated the demise of the former in favor of

the latter even prior to the Act of Union, as England came to represent the dominant

political, literary, and cultural weight of the Isles.

A handful of acts served indirectly to undermine local languages. In 1549 the

Act of Uniformity stipulated that English and the new Book of Common Prayer be

used in Anglican Church services, drastically accelerating the decline of Cornish (see

Chapter 6). In Wales, the Act for the Translation of the Bible and the Divine Service into Welsh (1561) facilitated the preservation of Welsh in contradiction to one of the

Acts of Union establishing English as the official language in Wales. Welsh declined

with the introduction of English-only education in 1870, but the extremes of the Ferry

Laws appear to have been unnecessary. And in Ireland, the Statutes of Kilkenny

(1366), which attempted to prevent English settlers from “going native” to little effect, represented one of the few attempts to legislate English as the official language. As in Scotland and Wales, economic opportunity and education would serve to undermine local languages, rendering legislation unnecessary.

• Regional Policies: Cornwall

As stated above, policies towards national minorities in the United Kingdom are best understood as regional. However, the absorption of Cornwall into the Anglo-

Saxon kingdom in the tenth century predated any organized “policy”. The Norman invasion of England equally absorbed this remote peninsula and applied its institutions there as elsewhere. It is, perhaps, the remoteness and comparative unattractiveness of life in Medieval Cornwall that best accounts for the persistence of

Cornish into the eighteenth century, as the region was to suffer the “benign neglect”

189 later articulated by Mill (Chapter 2). Despite a Cornish political movement in recent decades, there has been no attempt to provide institutional accommodation for

Cornwall as a distinctive region.

• Regional Policies: Wales

Unlike Cornwall, Wales represented an area in which local power successfully resisted the Anglo-Saxon advance, although it also never enjoyed more than transitory unification under its indigenous leaders. Rather, for centuries the Welsh were viewed as a threat to be kept at bay, with the costs of conquest far exceeding perceived benefits, a sentiment physically memorialized in Offa’s Dyke. The

Normans took a different tack, however. Advancing in piecemeal fashion, the

Normans extended themselves along the southern coast, eventually bringing the

region under relative control.

In 1284 Edward II issued the Statute of Rhuddlan which represented an

official proclamation of the annexation of Wales into England, legalized English

evictions and seizures, and established a dual legal system in which Welsh law was

retained for the Welsh, but English law was to be applied to new settlers. Both the

spread of settlers and additional acts further circumscribed the purview Welsh law. In

1301 Wales was made a single royal lordship, vested in the eldest royal son as the

Prince of Wales. The fourteenth century saw the gradual withdrawal of Welsh

society into the highlands, leaving the fertile valleys and towns to the English.

Fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Welsh revolts failed to slow this process.

Indeed, Wales participated fully in the War of the Roses and the Civil Wars alongside

the other regions of England, perhaps indicating the degree incorporation had

190 proceeded. The various acts of 1563 to 1543 created the official institutional assimilation of Wales into England, the borders of which were not changed until the system of counties was established in 1974. The Welsh, and in particular their mineral resources, became an integral part of English, then British, empire and industrialization.

While there was some interest in Welsh Home Rule at the end of the nineteenth-century, no policies were enacted to move in that direction. In 1964 a

Welsh Office was established with limited executive powers for the region. Wales also figured into regional planning and development schemes as a distinct entity.

However, institutional devolution, long proposed but never enacted, was eventually put to a referendum in 1979 in reaction to the rise of Welsh ethnopolitical mobilization, where it was soundly defeated. The long tenure of the Conservatives pushed the issue to the backburner, but with Labour’s 1997 return to power a referendum was again held; on this occasion a wafer-thin majority approved the establishment of a Welsh Executive, which assumed the powers of the Welsh Office.

• Regional Policies: Ireland

As outlined above, in some respects Ireland represented a larger, more intractable, but also more remote issue similar to Wales: a potential back door for

English enemies necessitating English control of a fragmented and hostile region.

Despite initial Norman control over most of the Ireland, English control was, for centuries, always questionable. The transformation of Ireland into a Kingdom under

Henry VIII, the establishment of the Church of Ireland, plantations under Mary,

Elizabeth I, and James I, and the Act of Union (1801) each represent different tacks in

191 establishing English control in the countryside; each met with relative failure. In the

end, Ireland became independent with the notable exception of the residual effect of

the last plantation of Scots Presbyterians in Ulster.

However, when viewed from another perspective English policy was

successful, if extremely costly in terms of lives and resources, perhaps best indicated

by the dominance of English throughout the island. Ireland itself never emerged as a

unified threat to England, as did the Scots. Furthermore, despite numerous attempts

and speculations of numerous more down through World War II, the island was never

successfully used as a springboard to attack England. Thus this potentially hostile

area, while never completely controlled and perhaps better understood as a colony than an equal partner in the Union (Colls 2002: 93), was also never a viable threat to the English.

Policies in Northern Ireland, that region remaining under English control after the 1921 secession of the southern twenty-six counties, have been varied. From the

beginning a regional parliament at Stormont was in place. Sectarian division led to it becoming an instrument of Catholic oppression and Protestant consolidation, which in turn generated instability and violence. Westminster was forced to suspend

Stormont from 1972-1999 and again last year. During these periods of “direct rule” northern Irish members of parliament (MP) and a Northern Irish Office determined regional policy. Interestingly, while neither Protestants nor Catholics initially desired

Home Rule, its suspension in 1972 was seen as an attempt to protect the Catholics from the Ulster Unionists. Now, however, Catholics appear to be strongly in favor of its restoration, anticipating increased political power beyond that of having a handful

192 of MPs in London. Elections scheduled for May 29, 2003, should they indeed occur,

will allow for the resumption of local rule.

• Regional Policy: Scotland

Prior to 1707, with the exception of the Cromwellian interregnum, there was no “Scottish” regional policy, as Scotland was an independent, recognized state in its own right. The question of 1707 was, under what terms and to what extent were

England and Scotland to be merged into the United Kingdom? As outlined above,

Scotland kept its internal legal code, Kirk, and education policy, while other powers were centralized, including parliamentary representation. While these very tangible concessions provided the region with a clear distinctiveness from England and in some respects established Scotland as an equal partner in the Union, it was clearly a junior partner. There has been a remarkable degree of assimilation of Scotland into the English-dominated Great Britain, with Scotland actually overrepresented in colonial administration and military service.

However, Scotland was also, and perhaps not surprisingly, not immune to the

Home Rule sentiment of the latter nineteenth-century. In response to this agitation, a

Scottish Office was established in 1885 to facilitate policy administration, harmonize policy differences resulting from the separate legal codes, and act as an advocate of

Scottish interests in policy-making. As in Wales, a referendum on devolution was held in Scotland in 1979; while a narrow majority of voters supported the measure, those votes did not represent the 40% of the total electorate required by the measure.

Regionalism in Scotland, as in Wales, was overshadowed during Conservative rule and revived with Labour. In 1997 Scottish voters overwhelmingly approved the

193 establishment of both an Executive and a Parliament for Scotland, in sharp contrast to

Wales.

• Regional Policies: England

The question of an English regional policy is a relatively recent one. Indeed,

for most of the period of the Union England and Britain have tended to be, both to

outsiders and insiders, synonymous. However, the prospect and now implementation

of devolution have generated a reaction by some that such asymmetrical

arrangements are patently unfair, although Mawson argues that the basic issues of the

debate are evident during the Home Rule fervor of the late nineteenth-century (1998:

158). However, prior to the recent successes of Welsh and Scottish ethnopolitical

mobilization, the debate regarding English regionalism has been muted.

A second issue lies with whether England should be treated as a single region

or, reflecting intra-English diversity, divided into a number of regions with devolved

powers. Labour, which made devolution a key element of its 1997 electoral platform,

has thus far not articulated a clear position other than arguing for the restoration of

local representation for London, a Mayor, which was abolished under Margaret

Thatcher in 1986. Functionally, England is presently subdivided into ten

administrative regions established under John Major in 1994, thus establishing an

institutional precedent for regionalizing England.

194 British National Identity

• The Question of English Identity in the British Context

Before assessing the nature of British identity and its relationship to national minority policy, some account must be given of the essence of English identity and the relationship between the ethnic identity of some 85% of the national population and the national identity thought to encompass everyone. The nature of English identity is far from clear however; indeed, in 1997 the new Labour government committed itself to disentangling the complex web of histories and identities between the Welsh, Irish, Scots, and English in an effort to reverse the sense that “England no longer has a defining identity… [i]t has no shape: you can’t define it (Tom Paulin, quoted in Wood 1999: 91).”

Part of the ambiguity comes from the complex past of invasions which overwhelmed Britain in the first millennium AD; while English became the dominant language, the Anglo-Saxons were neither the indigenous population nor the last conqueror of the region. In Spain the “historic nationalities” and Castilian each derive from groups who resisted, to varying degrees, Roman and Islamic power, while the French draw their national myth from the Franks, an early Germanic invader of Roman Gaul who resisted subsequent waves of invasion, then expanded and conquered the surrounding region. The Anglo-Saxons were both conquerors, absorbing the local religion but imparting their own language and political institutions, and conquered.

There is, of course, an alternative interpretation of English political history.

The Normans and Angevins, after the initial invasion, integrated themselves into the

195 Anglo-Saxon institutions and, later, language, providing for a continuity between the

Middle Ages and 1707, if not later. This England was constant, powerful, the source

of empire and industry. And even in the United Kingdom England can be seen as the

dominant partner, although prior to the mid-twentieth century the line between being

British and English was blurred (Black 2000: 300). This continuity is perhaps best reflected in the unique non-existence of a written constitution reflecting the notion of

“Crown-in-Parliament”. Furthermore, the Anglican Church, a glorious literary

tradition, as well as more sentimental images of red pillar-boxes, “warm beer and

cricket” (from a speech by John Major), and rural England each reinforce a sense of

English identity; in conjunction with political continuity and distinctiveness, a sense

of English identity appears, the ambiguities of Britishness notwithstanding (Wood

1999: 91-2); Colls argues for eight “properties” (language, crafts, gardens, cuisine,

the village, dance, folk music, and humor) as definitive of English identity (Colls

2002: 290-4).

The difficulties of differentiating between English distinctiveness and British

universalism are in some important ways related to the problems of Francophones in

post-World War II Belgium. When the supra-ethnic, or national, identity is

significantly challenged from below, the ethnicity most closely associated with that

identity, in Belgium the Walloons and in the United Kingdom the English, may not be able to easily reify the local identity (Cartrite 2002: 64-6). Indeed, the greater the

overlap between an ethnic and a national identity the more difficult the process of reestablishing the former when the latter is called into question.

196 • The Nature of British Identity

However, unlike Walloons in Belgium British identity was never merely the application of English identity to a broader demographic. Indeed, the process by which the United Kingdom was established, through parliamentary union with the

retention of Scottish and Irish law and religious distinctiveness, undermined the

likelihood that being British would be synonymous with being English. While there are particular implied “ethnic” elements to British identity, specifically language and religion, these are neither absolute nor predominant; rather, the emphasis is on a commitment to the constitutional monarchy and the political values it embodies, shared historical experiences in war and empire-building, and the tradition of imperial greatness, similar in many respects to French civic identity.

Perhaps one of the best representations of the centrality of historical experience to British identity is found in Sir David Wilkie’s Chelsea Pensioners

Reading the Gazette of the Battle of Waterloo (1822). Rife with symbolic references

197 to eighteenth-century battles in names of the taverns along the street, Wilkie, a Scot,

includes English, Scottish, Welsh, and Irish soldiers in the center of the painting,

intermingling in the center to read the declaration; interestingly, he also includes a black bandsman. The crowd is universally excited at the news and come together as

British citizens on a London street to celebrate the victory of an Anglo Irishman, the

Duke of Wellington, against Revolutionary France.75 The excitement in the painting

was paralleled by the public at the painting’s exhibition: thousands came to see the painting, standing for hours in line, and special barriers were erected to protect the painting.

The building of the Empire represented a related historical experience central to British identity, particularly in that non-English tended to be overrepresented colonial administration and military service;76 thus the Empire required the

commitment and service of people from across the British Isles. The British Empire represented the greatness of Britannia and was in part, it was argued, a function of

drawing upon the strengths of its disparate peoples. Its success, and the economic,

political, and symbolic benefits of the Empire, generated a reciprocal enhancement of

British identity at home; the loss of the Empire following World War II would

therefore weaken this unifying bond.

Protestantism is also seen as a central tenant to British identity, uniting

Anglicans, Presbyterians, and Methodists under a single identity. Anti-Catholicism

75 Wilkie himself published a key to the painting to make explicit the various symbols contained within the painting. 76 There is, of course, an economic explanation for this over-representation: military and colonial administration careers represented attractive economic alternatives to remaining in Wales, Scotland, or Ireland, where prospects were much bleaker; this argument notwithstanding, the common cause of empire and the process of bringing together these various nationalities in service under the British banner served to unite identities.

198 was central to resisting Jacobite aspirants to the throne at home and the multitude of

eighteenth century wars against France (Colley 1992: 3-6), to say nothing of the

policies in Ireland. Furthermore, the peculiar case of Northern Irish Protestants, who

until recently can be seen as having a British, but no ethnic, identity (see Chapter 6),

and the intractable conflict against Irish Catholics more generally illustrates the

centrality of Protestantism to British identity.

However, unlike the unifying aspects of Catholicism (Barker 2003: 8),

Protestantism as the basis for identity cuts two ways: it unites, at least in opposition to

Catholicism, and simultaneously divides, by its very nature. Furthermore, while

Protestantism as a central tenant of British identity might seem an obvious connection

to persistent Irish unhappiness within the United Kingdom, the Catholic

Emancipation Act of 1829 represented both a change in British attitudes towards

Catholics and the opportunity for Catholics, having realized legal equality, to find

space for themselves in the British identity. Furthermore, as Colley notes, Catholics

from Scotland and Ireland had been serving in the military and imperial service since

the Seven Years War (1756-1763); thus Catholics had played a role in the successes

on which British identity existed. With the secession of Ireland, however, the United

Kingdom became overwhelmingly Protestant. In this respect Protestantism and

English may represent implicit ethnic dimensions of British identity underlying the

more explicitly civic elements; indeed, by defining British national identity in this

way a clearer understanding of the conflict in Northern Ireland may be possible(see

Chapter 6; O’Dowd 1999: 188-90).

199 Conclusion

It is erroneous to assume that the British Isles, by virtue of geography, should necessarily be united under a single administrative structure and identity. An analysis

based on the argument that England, or Rome for that matter, somehow “failed” to

achieve what should have been achievable, so based, would therefore be erroneous.

However, it is clear that, in particular, Norman and Angevin England sought to

extend and consolidate their power throughout the British Isles; the intractability of

Ireland and the strength and cohesion of the Kingdom of Scotland prevented such a union.

Where English control was consolidated, assimilation and centralization were the policies, in part reflected today in the relatively weaker ethnopolitical mobilization of the Welsh and Cornish. In relationship to Scotland union was realized and, in turn, an entirely new identity, British, was established, albeit with clear ties to the most ancient salient identity, the Bretons. And in Ireland neither union nor annexation was effective in incorporating the Irish Catholics into the

United Kingdom.

British policies towards its national minorities, therefore, both reflect and reinforce British civic identity, which is itself a function of the process by which the

United Kingdom was formed. Interestingly, the devolution of recent years is perhaps a better reflection of the compound British identity than the unitary government of the nineteenth-century. It may be argued that such unity was a function of the needs and successes of empire; without that unifying element, British identity can be seen as having shifted to allow for sub-national identities and their institutional expression.

200

• Comparing the three cases

The analyses of France, Spain, and the United Kingdom yield some surprising findings. National identity appears closely tied to the historical experience of state territorial acquisition, shaping both the nature of the national identity and the legitimacy of sub-national identities. The national identity, in turn, impacts policies untaken in regards to national minorities as well as impacting international institutions established to address the concerns of such groups. Figure 7-4 (p. ) illustrates the interrelationships of national identity and national minority policy in the process of ethnopolitical mobilization. Thus the nature of the national identity, overlooked by most studies focusing on Western Europe, appears critical to understanding both the identity context and the institutional and policy frameworks within which mobilization occurs.

The potential and limits of domestic institutions and policies to ameliorate ethnopolitical mobilization also becomes apparent in the case studies. Democracy itself appears to be a significant facilitator of mobilization, particularly in conjunction with efforts towards decolonization and decentralization. And institutional accommodation does appear possible regarding some groups, but others seemingly continue to resist integration into the national identity. What remains to be explained is the considerable variation between ethnic groups, even those within the same context, the focus of the next chapter.

201 Chapter 6: How different is different enough? Group-level factors and ethnopolitical mobilization77

Why should Cornishmen learn Cornish? There is no money in it, it serves no practical purpose, and the literature is scanty and of no great originality or value. The question is a fair one, the answer is simple. Because they are Cornish. Henry Jenner, 1904, quoted in Stephens 1975: 209

This study posits in the Introduction and explores in Chapters 2-6 that factors on a variety of levels impact ethnopolitical mobilization, highlighted in variations of mobilization across time and countries. Indeed, the previous chapters illustrate the centrality of contextual evolution and opportunity structures to ethnopolitical

mobilization. Yet this study also argues that variations in mobilization across groups

within the same context do occur and are attributable to variations in aspects of group

identity. Unfortunately, as Chapter 1 illustrates, there is little agreement as to which

components are central to ethnic identity, let alone how variations in those elements might impact the probability of ethnopolitical mobilization.

Some scholars, rather than focusing on the distinguishing elements of ethnic

groups to determine which are definitive, have instead begun to explore the

relationship between aggregate identity differences between particular ethnic groups

and their respective “national” identity and subsequent ethnopolitical mobilization.

Colin Williams discusses bases of community, particularly linguistic and religious

differences, as the necessary cultural differences on which ethnopolitical movements

must rely (1984: 184-185). And Luis Moreno speaks of differential fact, or the

empirical and constructed differences between the ethnic and national identity of

77 An initial draft of the quantitative analysis in this chapter was presented at the Western Political Science Association Meeting, Denver, Colorado, March 27 2003.

202 various elements of ethnicity, as central to understanding ethnopolitical mobilization

(2001: 94-5).

This chapter proposes to extend this notion of differential fact as a framework

for analyzing variations of group-level factors and their impact on ethnopolitical mobilization. The central question informing this research is: How distinct from the national identity must a group be for the pre-conditions for mobilization articulated by Williams to be realized? Or, to put the question another way, is there a threshold of differential fact beyond which ethnopolitical mobilization can occur?

Conceptualizing the question in this way facilitates the exploration of a number of hypotheses. First, ethnopolitical mobilization may not be a function of a single or handful of elements, but rather may result from the combined impact of a variety of elements; in this sense differential fact becomes a composite evaluation of a number of distinct factors, the magnitude of which becomes the central concern for analysis. Second, the relative importance of some elements over others may change as the contexts evolve. Third, the attempts by ethnic entrepreneurs to create particular “differential facts”, especially symbolic elements such as a flag, anthem, or holiday, come to represent not merely the generation of quaint cultural artifacts but rather implicit or explicit attempts to increase the magnitude of differential fact of their respective ethnic group. Finally, while no definitive resolution of the debate about the defining elements of ethnicity may be achieved, a clearer understanding of the interrelationship between certain elements and ethnopolitical mobilization may be realized.

203 To pursue this aspect of the study, two distinct analyses will be undertaken.

First, building on the latest iteration of the Minorities At Risk (MAR) dataset, which

provides codings for seven of the fifteen ethnic groups in the three cases considered

here, a quantitative analysis will be undertaken to develop a heuristic guide as to the

relative importance of certain group-level factors as they impact ethnopolitical

mobilization. In addition to the variety of variables available in that dataset, this

study will add measures for symbolic elements (flag, anthem, holiday), constructed

features associated with language (literary renaissance, language standardization) and

a new measure for ethnopolitical mobilization, and will extend the dataset back to

1800 from the current range of 1945-2000. While there are concerns regarding the precision of the findings such an analysis can generate, due in part to the nature of many of the codings and the small number of groups being studied, the circumscribed application of these findings as a heuristic tool for qualitative analysis represents a reasonable application of these findings.

A qualitative description of the fifteen national minorities found in the three

cases this study explores, informed by the findings of the quantitative analysis, represents the second analysis of this chapter. Drawing upon the findings regarding national identity in Chapters 3-5 and relating those arguments to group-level aspects of ethnic identity highlighted by the quantitative analysis will provide a richer understanding of how elements of differential fact impact ethnopolitical mobilization in each context; in particular, this chapter will explore if there are any aspects of ethnicity that can be understood as either necessary or sufficient for ethnopolitical mobilization, concluding that mobilization is in part a function of the degree of

204 difference between the ethnic and national identity rather than the presence of any particular facet of identity. Additionally, the qualitative summary of each of the fifteen ethnoterritorial groups in the three countries under consideration here allows

for a richer understanding of the variety of mobilization that occurs, even within the

same context, and reinforces the assumption outlined in Chapter 1 that mobilization is

a protracted historical process; examining the entire trajectory of mobilization for all

possible groups will avoid much of the selection bias evident in other studies. As a

result, an understanding of intra-contextual variations will be realized, while the final

chapter will establish a comprehensive model of mobilization indicating how group-

level factors interact with evolving contexts to shape mobilization..

The quantitative exploration of differential fact78

To explore the potential impact of group-level factors on ethnopolitical

mobilization and, further, to ascertain if particular facets of ethnic identity appear to

stand apart from others in their significance, this study proposes three main

hypotheses:

H1: Inter-group differences are significant in explaining ethnopolitical mobilization

H2: “Differential fact” explains more of the variance in ethnopolitical mobilization than its component elements

H3: Differential fact is more significant than relative group size with regards to ethnopolitical mobilization

The limited number of cases, even when coded annually from 1800-2000,

necessitates the exploration of individual variables to eliminate those of marginal

205 significance. Thus the testing of hypothesis 2 will involve evaluating individual

relationships between the dependent variable and a number of independent variables.

This represents the bulk of the quantitative analysis for this study.

• Hypothesis 1: Inter-group differences are significant in explaining ethnopolitical mobilization

The expectation that inter-group differences matter is both reasonable and unsurprising, although the bias of much of the ethnopolitical mobilization literature towards contextual factors demonstrates implicitly the expectation that group-level differences, while not necessarily insignificant, are not particularly illuminating.

However, the statistical analysis confirms the expectation that group differences are significant in explaining variations in ethnopolitical mobilization. The question then becomes: Which differences matter most?

• Hypothesis 2: “Differential fact” explains more of the variance in ethnopolitical mobilization than its component elements

The relative ease with which inter-group differences were shown to be significant belies a more fundamental difficulty: determining what aspects of ethnicity, taken together or separately, are the most important contributing elements to ethnopolitical mobilization. Unfortunately, as illustrated in Table 1-1, there is little agreement in the nationalism and ethnicity literature as to which components of identity are definitive in differentiating ethnicities from other types of group identities and might, therefore, represent significant factors in ethnopolitical mobilization. The lack of some theoretical consensus regarding aspects of ethnicity necessitates the

78 A comprehensive discussion of the variables and codings used in the dataset developed for this

206 exploration of the relationships between a variety of measures and ethnopolitical mobilization in an attempt to reduce this array of ethnic factors.

Interestingly, the lack of consensus regarding which elements are central to ethnic identity may reflect the variation of contexts in which ethnic groups (try to) differentiate themselves. Returning to the concept of differential fact, it may be the case that the elements most central to ethnic identity are precisely those in which there is the greatest difference between the group and the national identity; thus it is not any individual facets of ethnicity that are necessary for ethnopolitical mobilization, but the overall aggregate distinctiveness of the group. In this light the ongoing debate among some of the foremost scholars in the field may be somewhat misdirected. To explore the broader hypothesis, a series of hypotheses were first tested to explore the relationship between individual aspects of ethnicity and ethnopolitical mobilization; this is then followed by an assessment of the explanatory power of differential fact as a combination of elements of ethnicity in comparison to those elements considered separately.

• Culture

Although culture represents a notoriously difficult concept to define, Table 1-

1 indicates more scholars see cultural distinctiveness as a definitive element of ethnic identity than any other category. The MAR dataset provides a number of qualitative codings to capture different aspects of cultural distinctiveness, as well as a summary statistic. Interestingly, some of these measures point to territory, religion, and language as components of culture. However, after correcting for problems in the

chapter, as well as the quantitative analysis, are available in the Appendix.

207 data and excluding aspects of culture captured elsewhere, the analysis indicates that

cultural difference is not significantly related to ethnopolitical mobilization.

• Territory and spatial concentration

Many scholars point to the centrality of historical claims to territory as an important factor in group identity formation and, especially, in ethnopolitical mobilization. A territorially-based group appears to make qualitatively different demands for institutional accommodation than do groups without such claims.

Indeed, in the European experience “national minorities” are differentiated from other groups based primarily on language and territory.

Unfortunately, the seven groups considered here all have territorial components; thus the effects of claims to territory cannot be tested with the dataset.

However, a related hypothesis is that the greater the demographic concentration of a group within its territory the greater the sense of group cohesion; therefore, a positive relationship between spatial concentration and ethnopolitical mobilization is expected. The initial analysis of group concentration shows, unexpectedly, a significant negative relationship, indicating that ethnopolitical mobilization decreases as concentration increases. However, after analyzing the component elements of group concentration, the findings become much less clear, with similar factors acting oppositely in impacting ethnopolitical mobilization. Thus it appears there are a number of substantial concerns with the coding scheme for territorial concentration, both in terms of the codings themselves and the lack of variation in the dataset, giving rise to the contradictory findings. In this case, caution would suggest that the hypothesis can neither be accepted nor rejected. While territoriality may be an

208 important factor, the quantitative analysis cannot definitively determine its

significance.

• Language

Many scholars of ethnicity argue that language represents the clearest and

most salient marker of group differentiation. However, there are a number of

questions surrounding the relationship between linguistic distinctiveness and ethnopolitical mobilization. For example, is having a different language sufficient, or does the relative degree of linguistic difference matter, with more distant linguistic gaps generating a higher sense of distinctiveness and, therefore, a higher probability of mobilization? Does having more than one language for a group inhibit mobilization by undermining the clarity of difference? Is mobilization related to the extent of language usage and, if so, how?

The dataset allows for the exploration of the first two questions; the lack of reliable data on language usage over time prohibits a convincing exploration of the third. As expected, the analysis demonstrates a clear relationship between a group having a different language and ethnopolitical mobilization; interestingly, however, there is no clear relationship between the magnitude of linguistic difference and politicization. This appears counter-intuitive: One would expect that groups with only slight linguistic differences from the national language (i.e. dialects) would have a more difficult time mobilizing around that identity than would groups with a clearly distinct language. However, the dataset does not code for groups with only dialect differences; thus there may be some threshold of linguistic difference that is

209 significant but cannot be explored here, as the seven groups coded all exceed that

threshold.

• History

A direct measure of history is difficult to derive for ethnic groups. However, two aspects of historical experience appear relevant. One dimension is the length of time a group has been incorporated into the national polity; the expectation is that the longer the institutional integration, the greater the likelihood of assimilation. Indeed, functionalist scholars assume this relationship to be true; the long historical experiences of states in Western Europe therefore provide a powerful test of this hypothesis. Second, historical experience as an independent political entity should increase group identity; the hypothesis expects that ethnic entrepreneurs can draw upon this historical experience as a salient argument for contemporary institutional

accommodation. Interestingly, after correcting for errors in the dataset, neither the

length of time in the polity nor a historical experience as an autonomous polity appears statistically significant.

• Religion

Interestingly, Table 1-1 indicates that religious difference does not figure very prominently in the ethnicity and nationalism literature as a defining marker of ethnicity. Evidence from Western Europe supports this contention: Of the fifteen national minorities in France, Spain, and the United Kingdom, only two are religiously distinct from the “national” religion.79 Yet religion clearly plays a critical

79 The Northern Irish Protestants, while tending to be Presbyterian, clearly emphasize their Protestant commonality as part of their association with being British. The Welsh, during the early period of

210 role for the Northern Irish Catholics; furthermore, religious cleavages represent some

of the more intractable divides globally. Paralleling the findings with regards to language, after correcting for errors in the data it is found that religious difference does play a role in ethnopolitical mobilization, but the magnitude of that difference does not. Caution must be exercised in interpreting the quantitative findings, however, given the paucity of religiously-based groups in the dataset.

• Summary of “primordial” indicators

Of the range of hypotheses tested with regards to “primordial” features of ethnicity, some preliminary findings stand out. First, the hypotheses regarding the importance of culture, linguistic distance, and historical experience were rejected.

Second, while territory is constant across all cases included in the dataset, perhaps implying its importance, measures of population concentration are problematic, suggesting no definitive answer can be drawn from these analyses. A distinctive language and a distinctive religion do emerge as significant factors impacting ethnopolitical mobilization, although in both cases the degree of difference does not appear particularly significant. Given the considerable disagreement in the nationalism and ethnicity literature regarding elements of group identity and the emphasis in recent decades on other components of ethnicity, these findings are surprising.

ethnopolitical mobilization, emphasized their Nonconformity as an element differentiating them from the English. See below for a more detailed account of these cases.

211 • “Constructed” facets of ethnicity

As outlined above, one potential oversight of the MAR project is its failure to code for “constructed” facets of ethnicity, despite Gurr’s (and others’) contention that there has emerged a relative consensus regarding aspects of ethnicity: some are primordial while others are constructed. More recently, authors have begun to consider symbols as significant markers. Case-study evidence shows that ethnic entrepreneurs invest considerable effort in developing such elements in an effort to increase group differentiation (Cartrite 2002). Thus coding for constructed elements appears necessary as part of this project.

The analysis of each measure indicates that the relationship to ethnopolitical mobilization is both positive and significant. In fact, the relationships are so strong that some degree of caution must be exercised: At a minimum some degree of collinearity is to be expected. However, these findings do suggest that constructed aspects of ethnic identity are important with regards to ethnopolitical mobilization; as such, they should be carefully considered.

• Differential Fact

While the exploration of the significance of various ethnic markers on ethnopolitical mobilization is enlightening on its own, for the purposes of this study the more central issue is whether certain aspects of ethnicity stand definitively on their own as facilitators of ethnopolitical mobilization or is it the magnitude of difference along a number of possible dimensions that is most useful in explaining variations in ethnopolitical mobilization? In fact, there does appear to be a stronger relationship between differential fact and ethnopolitical mobilization than the

212 combination of individual parameters. Such a finding is both intuitive and represents an important conceptual advance: Given that a group has some primordial differences with national identity, in particular language or religion but potentially others as well, subsequent social construction can then establish differential fact of a sufficient magnitude to facilitate ethnopolitical mobilization.

• Hypothesis 3: Differential fact is more significant than relative group size with regards to ethnopolitical mobilization

A final question to be addressed in this first cut of group-level factors is the relationship between group size and differential fact on ethnopolitical mobilization.

As indicated above, differential fact is a strong predictor of ethnopolitical mobilization; reasonably, group size should also be: Larger ethnic groups should be able to mobilize more easily than small groups. Extending the analysis further, however, raises an important question. Presumably large, distinct groups should mobilize more easily than small, relatively indistinct groups. However, does one factor carry more weight? Or, to put it another way, will small, distinctive groups mobilize more or less easily than large, relatively indistinct groups? The quantitative analysis indicates that while both differential fact and relative size matters, the former is much more significant. Thus it appears that small distinctive groups would mobilize more easily than large, relatively indistinct ones.

• Summary of quantitative findings

Due to concerns regarding the data in this study, the findings here are treated as indicative rather than definitive. Inter-group differences appear to play a significant role in ethnopolitical mobilization. However, the particular differences

213 appear to be less important than the combined magnitude of difference between an

ethnic groups and the national identity, a finding captured by the concept of

“differential fact”. Constructed facets of ethnic identity are important elements in

evaluating differential fact; omitting such elements represents a significant

shortcoming of the MAR dataset. Finally, while group size does play a role, the main inter-group factor appears to be differential fact.

The qualitative exploration of differential fact

While the findings of the quantitative analysis did not generate a clear checklist of significant factors to frame the qualitative survey of the fifteen cases represented here, the concept of differential fact allows for the focus of each case- study to be on those factors that most clearly differentiate the national minority from the larger national identity, as there are no apparent particular necessary conditions.

With this in mind, a relatively brief summary of each of the cases will be undertaken,

highlighting group-specific trends in ethnopolitical mobilization and emphasizing

elements contributing to differential fact. This will allow for a more comprehensive

analysis of ethnopolitical mobilization than had group-specific features been ignored.

The case-summaries presented below are organized by country, then

alphabetically. For each group an overview of ethnopolitical mobilization will be

provided as well as an evaluation of the particular features contributing to differential

fact, as well as a discussion, where appropriate, of what aspects may be inhibiting

mobilization; a line-graph of the codings for ethnopolitical for each group, on a scale

of 0-4, are also provided to illustrate the overall trend for each group’s mobilization.

This qualitative survey will provide nuance and additional information to the

214 quantitative analysis presented above, yielding a comprehensive assessment of group-

level factors and their impact on ethnopolitical mobilization.

• France – Alsatians

Alsace is unique among the groups surveyed

in this study in that it has, as a territory, been

transferred between two countries, in this case

Germany and France, on a number of occasions.

While this shared and distinctive experience

stimulated regional identity during the latter 19th and

early 20th century, Europeanism appears to be an emerging salient identity, with European institutions

located in Strasbourg and considerable pro-European Union sentiment in the region

being both causes and effects of this shift to an international emphasis. The regional

Germanic dialects appear to be giving way to High German as the local language,

creating a bilingual, albeit predominantly French-speaking, population whose

territory acts, both figuratively and physically, as a bridge between the two largest

Western European powers.

215 • Ethnopolitical mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980 2000

Between the French Revolution and the Franco-Prussian War there was little ethnopolitical mobilization in Alsace. The linguistic distinctiveness of the region was, of course, readily apparent, but Romanticism failed to generate any clear literary or cultural movement in the area, in part due to the prominence of German more generally and official French tolerance for the dialects. Increasingly French in its sympathies if not in language, the region generally supported the French government against the Prussian in the war in 1870-1.

Regionalist parties emerged in Alsace during the German Empire period

(1871-1919), arguing for regional autonomy within Germany; the German constitution contained federalist elements, facilitating these claims; the structure of the Second Reich provided for some regional authority, which was expanded in 1911.

Following World War I, the initial enthusiasm for rejoining France soon turned to misgivings as all things German were considered suspect in France. The highly centralized French government prohibited the use of German, whereas the German

Reich had allowed for French, including in education. The emergence of “le malaise alsacien” in the early 1920s reflected regional resentment at francisation.

Autonomist political parties reemerged as a reaction to French policies and centralization. 1928 represented the high point of Alsatian mobilization with the

216 election of regionalists to the National Assembly. However, the trial and conviction

of Alsatian activists, along with electoral failure in 1932 and the deaths of important

leaders, undermined the ethnic mobilization. Increasing tensions with Germany soon

put the Alsatians in an awkward position, with their loyalties being suspect in France;

this further dampened ethnopolitical activity.

During the war Alsatian autonomist leaders were initially treated well by the

Nazis. However, as the secret Nazi annexation progressed, regionalism was replaced by German assimilationist policies and regionalist leaders were increasingly suspect under the new regime. While there clearly was collaboration with the Nazis, there

was also an increasing regional resistance to Germanization policies evident as early

as 1942. Perhaps not surprisingly, French reprisals for collaboration following the war were particularly harsh. Alsatian activism largely vanished for a generation.

The limited revival of Alsatian ethnopolitical mobilization reappears, as with

many movements in France, in the 1970’s, although the Alsatian case presents some

unique peculiarities. First, for education purposes Alsatian dialects have increasingly

been neglected in favor of High German; while functional, this seems to undermine

the salience of regional identity (Vassberg 1993: 176-8). While there are Alsatian language-maintenance groups, they are small in size and generate little public support. While there are some cultural and literary groups advancing Alsatian identity, ethnopolitical mobilization remains well below the heights achieved during the inter-war years.

217 • Differential Fact

When under French authority, language represents the most salient primordial characteristic of the Alsatian identity.80 However, Alsatian dialects are often

overshadowed by linguistic developments of German; as a consequence, there has

been no clear literary renaissance or standardization of Alsatian. Furthermore, the

considerable literary activity in Germany during the nineteenth-century was more

likely to be adopted than copied.

Some symbols have been adopted in the region, notably the Lorraine Cross

during the Second Reich. There has been no agreement as to other constructed

symbols. Interestingly, while there is no historical tradition of autonomy to draw on, the shared experience of being transferred between France and Germany does seem to have generated a similar sense of territorial unity. Presently, it appears Alsatian identity is beginning to adopt a cosmopolitan element, perhaps as a result of its lack of a long historical tradition of belonging to any one polity.

• France – Basques

Perhaps the single most significant factor in French Basque ethnopolitical mobilization has been the mobilization of the Spanish

Basques, where the bulk of the ethnic

80 Interestingly there is evidence that when under German control the issue switches to religion, with Catholicism differentiating the Alsatians from Protestant Germans. However, this cleavage is somewhat muted by the presence of significant numbers of Catholics in Germany.

218 population resides. French Basque activism has generally mirrored that of their southern kin, albeit with a significant lag. However, there are aspects of the French

Basque movement that differentiate it from that in Spain that serve to illustrate the

role of differential fact.

• Ethnopolitical mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980 2000

As with most ethnic groups in France, the French Revolution of 1789 ended

local autonomy according to the Jacobin principle of the unitary state. Nonetheless,

the French Basques, isolated from both the regional capital of Bordeaux and from

Paris by geography, retained its ethnic distinctiveness despite the loss of local

institutional power. However, political activism by Basques was initially focused on

resisting the secularization of the Third Republic rather than on advancing cultural

identity. The clergy, who continued to teach Basque and use it in religious

ceremonies throughout the nineteenth-century, were polarized by a January 1903

decree requiring French be the only language for the catechism, with the loss of

governmental stipends for clergy who refused to comply. Fifty-two of the ninety-four

Basque priests immediately complied; by summer the number of holdouts was down

to ten. The French government had effectively undermined the main basis for Basque

activism of all sorts, which reached its nadir in the years leading up to World War I.

219 Furthermore, the significant activism of the Basque nationalists in Spain and their leader Sabino Arana Goiri failed to be extended north of the border. The considerable literary, cultural, and political renaissance in fin de siècle Spanish

Basque Country did not generate similar activism among the French Basques until the early 1930s; indeed, the conditions north of the border were of little concern to Arana and the Spanish Basque nationalists (Jacob 1994: 57-61). However, in 1933 a

Parisian chapter of the Eskual-Ikasleen was established with the goal of revitalizing the use of Basque in the region. The eskualerriste movement sought explicitly to remain separate from the Spanish Basque movement, although the events of the

Spanish Civil War (1936-9) and the dramatic influx of Basque refugees put severe pressure on their northern kin. Interestingly, the wartime alliance between Spanish

Basque Catholics, communists, and anarchists opposing Franco provided the eskualerriste leadership with sufficient grounds to resist close contact, arguing that the Spanish Basques had implicitly made an alliance with the devil in their fight.

Consequently the Basque Government-in-Exile, which settled near the French-

Spanish border, had little contact with the surrounding French Basque population.

Immediately following World War II there was an increase in ethnopolitical mobilization around the issue of forming a Basque département (administrative district). Popular support was limited, however, and the issue soon died. Conversely, the pre-war and wartime cooperation of French Basques with other regionalist movements laid the foundations for future mobilization. Ethnic activism was all but non-existent until the early 1960’s, when Enbata was formed. The impact of the

220 Algerian Civil War, the revitalization of, in particular, the Bretons, and the

reemergence of Basque nationalism in Spain were all factors in this mobilization.

While Enbata survived only until 1974, it represents the break of the Basque

nationalists with the Church and the clear articulation of common cause with other

French national minorities, an important transition. The movement found support

among students and quickly moved from language and culture to political ambition.

On April 15, 1963 French Basques celebrated their first Aberri Eguna, the Basque

holiday long commemorated in Spain. At that meeting a Constitutive Congress met

and outlined political goals. The events of 1968 generated a variety of new Basque

political movements, most of which were short-lived. However, the main beneficiary

of this explosion of political activity was Amaia, initially an outgrowth of students in

Enbata. Out of this short-lived emerged leaders who were to introduce a new tactic

to the French Basque movement: violence.

As with ETA in Spain, the French Basque movement radicalized, fragmented,

and became violent, again with a lag of many years. By the mid-1970s, however,

violence had become the modus operandi of a number of small factions. ETA, with

many exiles in the region, had begun to infiltrate Enbata by 1968. In addition, the

French Basques again turned to the example of Brittany, and in particular the Union

Démocratique Bretonne (UDB, see below), as an example of radical leftist ethnopolitical activism. Violence and extremism served, however, to divide the larger Basque movement and attract the attention of the French government. Political success continued to elude activists; the issue of a Basque department or region

221 resurfaced in 1976, but the hopes for its realization with the victory of Socialist

Mitterand in 1981 were soon proven misplaced.

The larger movement has, since the 1970s, found itself politically mobilized,

divided, and unable to realize larger political successes. There has been increasing

cross-border collaboration with Southern Basques; however, this has generated, after

Franco’s death, considerable cross-border cooperation between the French and

Spanish governments as well. The French movement remains predominantly leftist

yet divided between groups advocating violence and those rejecting such tactics.

European integration has facilitated Basque integration with few political gains for

French Basques as a result.

• Differential fact

Linguistic distinctiveness represents the main “primordial” basis for identity differentiation. Geographic isolation from the rest of France played a key role in delaying effective French penetration into the region; even as late as the turn of the twentieth century, Parisian institutional authority had, at best, a limited presence.

However, religiosity represented the primary initial motivation for mobilization in resistance to the secularization of the state. Basque ideologues long maintained the fiction of a Basque race, serving to limit the demographic base of the movement.

Paradoxically, the Basque language, with no known relationship to any other

languages, serves to define the group, yet the difficulties of acquiring the language

circumscribe its potential demographic base. While there are efforts on both sides of

the border to recast identity as regional with an ethnic component, such attempts have

222 yet to result in an expanded sense of French Basque identity or facilitate assimilation of non-Basques, an increasing segment of the regional population.

• France – Bretons

Of the seven national minority groups in France, the Bretons are the example par excellence. Most of the facets of ethnicity explored above are found here: a distinctive language; territory (and geographic isolation); historical experience as a separate polity; a literary revival, relatively large size, and a long history of ethnic activism. Indeed, the Breton movement (Emsav) has long served as an example for other movements in

France. Yet despite relatively early substantial mobilization, the movement has been unable to become a stable political force impacting national politics. Breton ethnopolitical mobilization is similar in intensity to other groups and lags behind

Corsica. Thus the Bretons present a paradox: With a seemingly high degree of differential fact, the movement remains unable to become a mass movement while other groups do so.

223 • Ethnopolitical mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980 2000

Britons first moved from Cornwall, in southwestern Great Britain, onto the

Armoric peninsula in response to fifth- and sixth-century Irish and Anglo-Saxon incursions into their territory and, according to one contemporary source, overpopulation. At the same time, the Franks began their expansion under Clovis outward from their territory around Paris, including westward towards the Bretons.

Continuous warfare between the two groups persisted throughout this period, but the expansive Franks were unable to move significantly into what is now referred to as

Lower Brittany.81 Breton defeat of the forces of Charles the Bald in 851 led to the dramatic expansion of the Kingdom of Brittany eastward, beyond its linguistic base.

Further territorial gains in the ninth century were eventually halted by Viking invasions and the establishment of Normandy.

Breton political independence continued until the end of the fifteenth century when, in the process of the Hundred Years War between France and England,

Brittany was finally subdued by the French. The Act of Union, pronounced in 1532, gave Brittany some local administrative autonomy (which tended in practice to vary over time), a remarkably rare concession by the French as they expanded. The

81 Areas west of a line running roughly from Saint-Brieuc in the north to Vannes in the south.

224 French Revolution ended these special provisions and the Bretons were seen as particularly reactionary and in need of assimilation.

However, Breton intellectuals, attracted early on by Romanticism, sparked a literary renaissance in 1839 with the collection of Breton folk tales (Barzaz-Breiz) and the publication of a Breton grammar. Cultural and literary groups flourished throughout this period; occasionally more formal advocacy groups emerged, but these tended to be relatively short-lived. By 1871, political conservatives from the area began to support Breton distinctiveness, in part as a Catholic bulwark against ongoing secularization in the Third Republic.

The Breton movement (Emsav), initially conservative and Catholic, became clearly political in 1898 with the formation of the Union Régionaliste Bretonne. Prior to World War I a number of additional groups formed as manifestations of various nuances of a broader attempt to generate a mass movement. None were successful, however. Even following the war, when Breton activists petitioned Woodrow Wilson directly to be considered a national minority along the lines of those in Eastern

Europe, recognition and mass mobilization eluded the movement. However, the example of the Irish success in realizing Home Rule in 1921 continued to motivate

Breton activists, despite their lack of immediate success.

During this period the divide between regionalists and bretonnants (Breton- language supporters) moved to the fore as a central issue for the broader movement:

Were Bretons a linguistic group, more clearly differentiated from the French but very small and located in Lower Brittany, or a regional group, including a larger but less distinctive population? In addition, the elitism and conservatism of the movement

225 began to be challenged from the left and the working-class. Political advocacy

increased and, in the early 1930s, Breton parties began to competitively seek electoral

office. In addition, Breton activists publicly supported the growing Alsatian

movement, denouncing the trials and imprisonments of Alsatian leaders in 1928.

The looming war with Germany served to distract attention from the movement; in addition, fascist factions emerged arguing that a German victory could result in an independent Brittany. During the war the Nazis, under a policy of flamenpolitik, actively sought ties with regionalist movements to strengthen their occupation of Belgium and France. As a result, the gamble of some Bretons with collaboration paid early dividends: the Vichy regime of occupied France made significant concessions to the Bretons, especially with regards to the teaching of the language.

This collaboration, however, was denounced by the Resistance, which undertook a series of assassinations of Breton leaders. Breton paramilitary units,

which had formed in the 1930s, came under the control of the Nazi Waffen SS troops

and fought for the Nazis; the battle between the Resistance and Breton paramilitaries quickly turned in the favor of the former with the invasion of France. Summary executions of Breton leaders were undertaken; while Breton collaboration was clearly greater than that of other national minorities in France; however, the French net also caught up Breton activists with no collaborationist ties. In the end, the lasting effect of supping with the devil was to discredit the Breton movement as a whole.

Recovery from the wartime debacle was slow. An interest group was formed in 1950 (Comité d’études et de liaison des interest bretons) to advocate support for

226 local culture; some limited successes in pressuring Breton representative were

realized, including the inclusion of Breton in the loi Deixonne (see Chapter 3) and

regional development. In 1957 the Mouvement pour l’Organisation de la Bretagne

(MOB), a nationalist political organization, formed advancing the argument of

“internal colonialism” during the Algerian war as a justification for regional

accommodations. While short-lived, the MOB signaled the return of Breton

ethnopolitical mobilization to an avowedly political level. Other leftist Breton

organizations formed, especially after 1968. In particular, the Union Democratique

Bretonne (UDB) joined with the Socialists and Communists as the third component of the Union of the Left alliance in Brittany, enjoying electoral successes in 1977 and

1981.

However, electoral success generated its own problems: Radicals within the broader Emsav co-opted much of the socialist language of the UDB yet argued, in a classically Marxist way, that regionalism and decentralization could not be solutions for the Bretons. The UDB, just prior to the electoral successes of 1981, sought to reassert the primacy of Breton nationalism over socialism, weakening its ties with the broader French Left. In addition, terrorism by the Front de Libération de la Bretagne in the 1960s and ‘70s, while very limited, served to undermine support for Breton political activism, even among Bretons.

As a result, the successes of the Left in 1981 yielded smaller gains for Bretons than might have otherwise been. The département of Loire Atlantique, the location of the historic Breton capital Nantes, was not rejoined to the region of Brittany as some had advocated. Administrative capacities for the region were no different from the

227 other regions; Corsica, by contrast, realized significant gains towards regional

autonomy immediately following the Socialist triumph. And although the UDB has

managed to persist as a political organization, political support for the organization

has been consistently low.

On the other hand, the expansion of bilingual Breton schools (Diwan)

continues to enjoy considerable support from the population, even among non-Breton

speakers of the region. The increasing popularity of Celtic music, festivals, and

customs indicate that while political activism may as yet have realized minimal gains,

Breton cultural efforts are succeeding in maintaining and even spreading the identity.

Furthermore, as with other regions in France, Breton support for Maastricht and

increased regionalism within the European Union points to political institutional

objectives. Thus Breton identity and aspirations persist, despite the remarkable

failure of Emsav to become a mass movement.

• Differential fact

As outlined above, the Bretons appear to have many of the “primordial” bases

necessary for ethnopolitical mobilization. Furthermore, Breton elites cultivated the

“constructed” elements relatively early. With 5% of the French population residing

in the administrative region, historical, linguistic, geographical, and cultural

distinctiveness separating them from the larger French identity, the question

regarding ethnopolitical mobilization is turned on its head. Rather than inquiring on

what bases ethnic identity is built, the question becomes: What aspects of differential

fact, if any, are inhibiting Breton mobilization?

228 Interestingly, one of the most significant problems is a function of Breton

success as a kingdom: the expansion into non-Breton areas. Upper Brittany,

traditionally including the area around Brittany’s historic capital Nantes, is not

Breton-speaking; rather, Gallo, one of the langues d’öil, is the local dialect. Thus a

fundamental issue presented itself to Breton activists: Whether to define Breton

identity through language and thereby clearly differentiating themselves from the

French or to emphasize the historical territory and experience, diluting the linguistic

differentiation but broadening the potential population base. Either strategy is likely

a reasonable one; indeed, the survey of cases in this chapter will illustrate both. It

appears that indecision on the matter has been the major problem; the failure of

Breton elites to act decisively along either dimension has undermined the salience of

Breton identity, dividing activists and undermining the potential for ethnopolitical mobilization.

Interestingly, French administrative policy has contributed to this dilemma:

When administrative regions were established in France in 1956, the département of

Loire Atlantique, historically part of Brittany, was included in the new region of Pays de la Loire. The functional loss of significant territory and the historically Breton city of Nantes undermined the potential regional base of the movement. However, the continuing decline of the Breton language and a revival of Celtic culture in the area, as elsewhere on the Western European periphery, may serve to resolve the issue in favor of territory over language; such a transition, should it come to pass, could reenergize the movement in the evolving regionalization of France and Western

Europe more generally.

229

• France – Catalans

Adjacent to the Spanish

Autonomous region of

Catalonia is a small group of

Catalans, occupying an area commonly known as

Roussillon. This group, while quite distinct from the French along a number of dimensions, has failed to generate significant ethnopolitical mobilization. In this case, as with the

Flamands (see below), small size appears to be a debilitating problem for the group, although recent mobilization, partly in response to the activism of other groups in

France, may indicate a functional lowering of the “threshold” for mobilization to occur.

• Ethnopolitical Mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980

Separated from their kin in 1659, Catalans in France have shown, until very recently, no distinct ethnopolitical aspirations. Indeed, the clearest sign of ethnic consciousness may be in the preference of Spanish Catalonia as an emigration destination. In 1960 a cultural organization, the Grup Rossellones d’Estudis

230 Catalans, appeared advocating for the defense and promotion of Catalan, but the

group soon split over ideological differences. Other groups emerged later in the

decade but were equally unable to establish a coherent program.

Expressly political groups appeared towards the end of the 1960s, advocating a variety of positions regarding regionalization, with the Esquerra Catalan dels

Traballadores advocating secession. These groups have failed to generate any popular support, however. Interestingly, the substantial mobilization and successes of their kin to the South have failed to generate similar activism in the region.

Ethnopolitical mobilization, to the extent that it exists at all, remains a cultural and linguistic affair.

• Differential Fact

For the French Catalans, the primary dimension of differential fact is that of language. The region was once part of a larger Catalan polity but can claim no particular historical political tradition as a separate region. Interestingly, there is considerable ambiguity as to the name of the territory: North Catalonia (which for some extends to Barcelona in Spain) versus Roussillon (which is the name of one of the four Catalan districts in France); thus territory is relatively vague and problematic.

The absence of other facets of ethnicity, primordial or constructed, in conjunction with a small population (less than .4%), contributes to significant apathy and helplessness among the population with regards to Catalan identity. As a result, ethnopolitical mobilization among this group simply has too little to build on.

231 • France – Corsicans

The Corsicans represent the most highly mobilized of all national minorities in France, especially when political support at the local level is considered; in addition, they have received the most significant institutional accommodations of all groups in France, with some expecting that the Corsican “model” of institutional accommodation represents an administrative solution for other national minorities. There are a number of factors which lend themselves to differentiation from the French identity; as a result, ethnopolitical mobilization may not be particularly surprising. Interestingly, however, the Corsicans mobilized relatively recently and much later than other groups, despite a centuries-long history of resisting various controlling powers and being the most recent national minority to be joined to the French state. The question with regards to Corsican mobilization, therefore, appears not to be “why did they mobilize?” but rather “what took so long?”.

• Ethnopolitical mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980 2000

Corsican nationalist activism had been a relatively constant historical phenomenon for many centuries. During the era of Genoese rule, 1132-1768 (with

232 brief interruptions), the Genoese repeatedly called for assistance, particularly from

France, for help in putting down Corsican resistance. The heroic figure of Pascal

Paoli generated considerable nationalist sentiment; after the sale of Corsica to France

in 1768 Paoli and the Corsicans successfully routed a French army. However, the

French returned the next year and crushed the Corsicans. Despite a two-year

occupation of the island by the British (1794-1796) and the declaration by Paoli and

the separatists of the British Monarch as the ruler of, Corsican nationalism was

decisively ended.

Throughout the nineteenth-century and through both world wars the

Corsicans, despite economic backwardness and extreme levels of emigration, were

ardent supporters of the French state, such that calls by Mussolini for the annexation

of Corsica were greeted with the public swearing of the Oath of Bastia in 1938 by thousands of Corsicans: “Before the world, and with all our soul, we swear on our glories, on our tombs, on our cradles, to live and die French (quoted in Ramsay 1983:

18).” Liberation reinforced this sentiment, and a particular affinity between Corsica and de Gaulle formed. Corsican affinity for France peaked at this time.

There was, however, a literary renaissance that began in 1896 in imitation of the Félibrige movement in southern France (see below). A number of journals were established and efforts were undertaken to reinvigorate the use of the language. After

World War I the movement began to take on political overtones advocating recognition of Corsica’s unique status within the French Republic; there was, however, no clear political program, and Italian irredentism served to reinvigorate

French identity. In addition, the small Corsican nationalist movement was quashed

233 by the French in 1945 as part of the wave of reprisals against collaboration, similar to

other regional movements.

Special French programs for Corsican economic development, established in

1957, implicitly recognized the island’s peculiar status within the Republic and might

have stimulated the nascent Corsican movement. However, the return of the beloved

de Gaulle to the national political stage in 1958 and the escalating crisis in Algeria, of

which a large proportion of the white French there had Corsican ties, reinvigorated

pro-French sentiment; Corsica registered the lowest “no” vote in the referendum for

de Gaulle of any French département in September of that year.

Ethnopolitical activism resumed in 1955 around the issue of the Corsican language, which had not been recognized under the 1951 Loi Deixonne by the

argument that Corsican was merely a dialect of Italian and, therefore, as part of a

national language it not in need of special provisions for its protection. The Centre

d’Etudes Régionales Corses / Centru di Studi Regiunali Corsi, founded in 1957,

pressed Corsican demands for the incorporation of Corsican in education. Efforts to

standardize the language, which is divided into two regional dialects, resulted in the

publication of a grammar in 1968.

French defeat in the Algerian Civil War and the immigration of large numbers

of pieds noir (white French residence of Algeria) to Corsica, where they were given

special governmental considerations, in conjunction with the continued economic

stagnation of the island served to transform the linguistic agenda of the Centru into a

broader political program with inclusion of Corsican under the provisions of the Loi

Deixonne as one of the early goals. Political parties emerged in the late 1960s to

234 advance more specific political agendas, although none were successful in national

elections. Environmental concerns added to the mix of cultural and economic

grievances in 1972, when the dumping by an Italian company of toxic substances

(“red mud”) resulted in whales running aground; an anti-red-mud demonstration in

1973 turned into a riot, resulting in the arrest of prominent autonomist leaders

(Olivesi 1998: 176). Interestingly, environmentalism reintroduced territoriality into the mix of Corsican grievances over what was viewed as French neglect of Corsican land.

Violence, by way of the Spanish Basque and Breton examples, was introduced into this volatile mix of escalating ethnopolitical mobilization in 1973. Since that time violence has been a prominent feature of the Corsican movement, with anti- regionalist violence also occurring, albeit to a much lesser degree: Between 1976 and

1998 some 41 assassinations and 8400 terrorist attacks have occurred (Olivesi 1998:

187). The issue of legitimizing violence continues to divide the Corsican movement.

The creation of a Corsican region in 1982 and the expansion of its

competencies in 1991 set Corsica apart from the other national minorities of France.

Corsican political parties and activists have an arena to pursue their particular

agendas. Although they do not compete at the national level, the experience of governing and the possibilities of exercising local power serve to keep these parties viable and active, particularly in comparison to other ethnic parties in France.

Ethnopolitical mobilization in Corsica, therefore, represents the most sustained and active of all the groups in France.

235 • Differential fact

Corsican identity has a number of particular aspects which distinguish it from

the national identity. First, geography plays a distinct role: The Corsican territory is

the only national minority territory separate from the Hexagon and is closer to Italy

than to France. Second, the Corsican language is clearly distinct from French. Third,

Corsica was the last national minority region to be incorporated into France, limiting

the assimilation of its people. Culturally the Corsicans are clearly distinct, with the

role of clans in Corsican life being only one of the more salient examples. Thus in terms of differential fact Corsica scores highly on a number of dimensions.

However, there are some intriguing difficulties. First, although the population is historically distinct, it is also quite small; while population statistics for Corsica are notoriously unreliable, the population is likely less than 300,000. Second, the status of the Corsican language hindered ethnopolitical mobilization; while clearly distinct from French, the lack of consensus as to its differentiation from Italian, in addition to divisions on the island between to dialects, hurt efforts to make the preservation of

Corsican identity differentiated by linguistic distinctiveness a mobilizing issue.

Finally, and perhaps most interestingly, the relationship between the Corsican community and great French leaders has served historically to reinforce the hegemony of French identity. While Paoli heroically fought the French and serves today as an ethnopolitical symbol, Corsica’s first son, Napoleon, although a Corsican nationalist early in his career, brought Corsica firmly into the French fold through his, and by extension their, contribution to French greatness. As stated above, the powerful connection to de Gaulle represented the second linkage reinforcing this tie

236 between Corsicans and Franced. Thus the contemporary Corsican movement, while perhaps living up to expectations of advanced ethnopolitical mobilization implied by the degree of differential fact, was a remarkably late entrant onto the French regional movement stage.

• France – Flamands

Although the Flamands (Flemish) of

France are clearly linguistically distinct from the French and have kin who have emerged as the most powerful group in neighboring

Belgium, realizing an unparalleled degree of autonomy in Western Europe, they represent the least ethnopolitically mobilized of all the groups considered in this survey. Here, even more so than with the French Catalans, small size is debilitating.

It appears unlikely that so small a group will likely mobilize and realize accommodations to any significant degree.

• Ethnopolitical Mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980

Interestingly, the Flamands were one of the rare targets of pre-Revolution

French national minority policy: In 1648 the use of Dutch was prohibited by Louis

XIV. The Revolution continued this anti-Flemish policy, as did subsequent regimes.

Ethnopolitical mobilization in the adjacent Flemish area of Belgium, however, served

237 as a base for Flemish culture and literature. In 1853 the Comité Flamand de France was established advocating political accommodations for the area. While the movement in France was primarily cultural, political activism across the border represented a persistent stimulus for potential political organization. Interestingly, despite German occupation of the area in the First World War and a relatively successful flamenpolitik in Belgium, support for such initiatives among the French

Flamands was sparse.

In 1923 the Vlaamsch Verbond van Frankrijk formed advocating political activism. As with the Bretons, there was collaboration with the Nazis during the

Occupation; French reprisals were also swift. Unlike the Bretons, the Flamands were unable to recover relatively quickly from the debacle. While cultural organizations reemerged in the early 1970s, with the eventual formation of a small political group, and despite considerable gains across the border in Belgium, Flemish activism in

France is virtually non-existent.

• Differential Fact

The Flamands in France, despite the considerable influence from Flemish ethnopolitical mobilization in Belgium and the incorporation of many of the constructed symbols developed there, the small and decreasing size of the ethnic population appears as a substantial barrier to mobilization. Weaknesses on other dimensions of differential fact, including religion, territory, history, and the promulgation of ethnic symbols, reinforces this position. While contagion and the evolution of the French context likely explain Flemish mobilization, it appears unlikely that sustained ethnopolitical mobilization is a possibility.

238

• France – Occitans

The Langue d’Oc

region, or Occitanie, covers

roughly one-third of France

and is home to one-fourth of

its population. It has a

distinct language and literary movement. Yet Occitan ethnopolitical mobilization

remains relatively low, much more so than other, smaller groups. As will be seen, it

is diversity within Occitanie that undermines its potential political force.

• Ethnopolitical Mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980

As stated in Chapter 3, Occitanie was one of the earliest targets of Parisian

expansionism: The area was incorporated into France as a result of the Albigensian

Crusades in the thirteenth century. French linguistic and administrative penetration

into the region began slowly but, over the course of centuries, effectively integrated

the region into the kingdom. Even during the Revolution activists tended to advocate

various formulas for regional administration; autonomy was not a political objective.

The influence of Romanticism resulted in the Félibrige, a literary movement founded by the poet Mistral, who won the Nobel Prize in 1904, in 1854 that was to be an example for other ethnic movements in France. Initially concerned with linguistic

239 preservation and recovery, the movement attempted relatively early to establish a standard form of Occitan based on Mistral’s dialect of ‘Rhodanie’, with new words formed from a Latin basis. Members of the movement were also in close contact with, especially, Catalan literary revivalists; the langue d’oc is, in fact, more closely related to Catalan than to Parisian French. The expansion of cultural and literary chapters throughout the region appeared promising for later ethnopolitical mobilization.

Indicating some of the problems the movement was to face, however, was an early resistance to standardization by speakers of other dialects as well as those who sought to standardize the language through incorporating the diversity of dialects.

The Félibrige was seen as too particularistic to be representative of so wide and diverse an area; furthermore, the movement was unable to move beyond its Romantic roots to new forms of literature. As a result, disagreements over tactics to advance the language led to the formation of splinter organizations, including Escolla

Occitana (1919), Collegi d’Occitania (1927), Societat d’Estudios Occitans (1931), and the Institut d’Etudes Occitanes (IEO; began clandestinely in 1943 by members of the Resistance, made public in 1946); these groups continued to advance a literary

Occitan movement as central to the preservation of Occitan identity.

Pressure groups began to form in the 1920s, such as the Comité d’Action en faveur de la langue d’oc à l’école, with a particular emphasis on extending Occitan into schools. However, Occitan was not initially included in the Loi Deixonne, perhaps reflecting the relative weakness of Occitan mobilization. Despite this setback, education represented the second major concern for activists.

240 As with most ethnic groups in France, Nazi occupation represented a

significant setback. In the case of Occitanie, the puppet Vichy regime under Marshal

Pétain was based in the area and officially controlled most of the region. The Occitan

movement was generally supportive of Pétain, although there were notable

exceptions. However, following liberation the movement as a whole was subject to

recriminations and reprisals.

Following the war the lingering issue of language standardization resurfaced.

The partial solution to this problem, proposed in 1935 by Louis Alibert, was to

incorporate various dialects into a collected orthography. The IOE advocated this

position following the war, but others have advanced a kind of linguistic democracy

in which all dialects are to be seen as equally legitimate and appropriate. The

creation of a single accepted standard has yet to be realized.

Political mobilization was slow to recover from the wartime reversals of its

weak beginning. Occitan political activism was associated from the beginning with

economic struggles. A miner’s strike at Decazeville led to the formation of the

Comité Occitan d’Etudes et d’Action (COEA), headed by former IEO President

Robert Lafont;82 interestingly, the overlap between economic and cultural issues appears to have undermined focus and support for the latter. A broader political

organization, the Lutte Occitane, emerged from the COEA in 1969; however, this

broad group soon fragmented into a host of smaller political groupings representing a

host of ideological perspectives and goals. To date, no single political organization

represents the Occitan movement.

241 • Differential Fact

As the account of Occitan ethnopolitical mobilization makes clear, the key problem for the movement lies in the heterogeneity of the region. While there is a clear linguistic differentiation with Parisian French, the inability of leaders to promulgate a standardized variety of the language, to say nothing of the energies expended by generations of activists in arguments over the issue, appears to have occupied a significant portion of the dynamism of the movement. Thus, despite a significant and ongoing literary movement, little headway has been made with regards to broader mobilization.

The lack of historical political or territorial identity represents a second factor undermining potential mobilization. As noted in Chapter 3 the region came under general assault on the basis of a religious cleavage; however, the area had not been unified prior to the Crusade against it. Rather, various powers exercised influence and direct control: Prior to annexation by France the region was divided between

Aquitaine (with its links to England) in the west, France to the north, Catalonia southwards, and Toulouse in the center and eastwards. The lack of a shared historical reference to an Occitan political entity undermines attempts to cultivate a modern sense of unity.

It appears, therefore, that a negative identity (i.e. not French) is insufficient to build an ethnopolitical movement across so wide and diverse an area. Despite a clear linguistic difference with French national identity and significant early leadership with regards to literary revival, Occitan ethnopolitical mobilization has been unable to

82 It was in the manifesto of this new organization that Lafont applied the term “colonialisme intérieur” (internal colonialism), which other groups in France and elsewhere were to then adopt as an

242 overcome its diversity or to build a coherent identity. As a result, this largest national minority in France represents one of the least mobilized and active.

• Spain – Basques

In the popular imagination the Basques of Spain likely represent the archetype of a national minority movement, no doubt in part due to widespread publicity of the violent activities of ETA (Euzkadi ta

Askatasuna – Basque Homeland and Freedom). For some, the Basque attempts to realize statehood reflect nationalist movements generally: A unique people, attached to a particular territory, seeking to liberate themselves from a foreign power. For others, the Basques highlight the dangers of ethnic movements: conservative, violent, racist, and opposed to building larger political communities. In some respects both dimensions are true for the Basque movement, yet Basque ethnopolitical mobilization is in many respects unique; the comparison with Catalan mobilization (next section) will help to illustrate this distinctiveness.

ideological justification of their efforts.

243 • Ethnopolitical Mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980 2000

As stated in Chapter 4, Spanish state formation left in tact local provisions for

the Basques, the fueros, until comparatively recently: Basque autonomy officially

ended with the end of the Second Carlist War in 1876. Yet it was the ending of

Basque autonomy which provided the genesis for Basque ethnic mobilization

(Conversi 1997: 48): “foralism” (Sp. fuerismo), which sought to protect the Basque

fueros, was an ideology in favor of preserving particular institutional rights rather

than a movement for the protection and advancement of Basque identity through

political institutions. Indeed, while later foralists were leaders in the emerging

Basque movement, their priority and allegiance was with any political movements opposed to centralization rather than to an articulation of Basque identity and the

need for its preservation.

As with other groups, Basque ethnopolitical mobilization began with a literary

movement. Although not as widespread or influential as other literary movements, the renacimiento euskerista, centered in the province of Navarre, was an attempt by early activists to study and propagate Basque, which was becoming marginalized due, in part, to industrialization and an influx of workers from other areas of Spain. The first Floral Games (poetry contests mixed with popular sports, games, and folk music) in the Basque region were organized in 1879; itz-jostaldiak (literary contests) were

244 added soon thereafter. The movement remained largely intellectual, however, and its

political concerns were foralist rather than ethnopolitical.

Unlike the other national minorities considered in this study, the politicization

of Basque identity clearly resulted from the efforts of a single individual: Sabino

Arana y Goiri (1865-1903). Arana’s early political writings focused on asserting

Viscayan, rather than Basque, independence. However, his thinking soon expanded

to encompass all Basques in the Euzkadi, the name he gave for the four Spanish

Basque provinces and, vaguely by extension, the three French Basque départements.

Arana formed the first Basque political party, the Partido Nacionalista Vasco

(Basque Nationalist Party, PNV), in 1895. Interestingly, Arana’s early views on

Basque identity were religious and vaguely racist83 rather than ethnic; indeed, all members of the PNV had to be Catholic and have at least four Basque surnames or one grandparent who was native Basque (Conversi 1997: 61); this position appears in some of his writings to have resulted from what seemed to Arana as the imminent demise of the Basque language, which was always a secondary consideration. This aspect of Basque ethnopolitical mobilization, which was largely discredited after

World War II, is another unique feature of the Basques in comparison to other groups in this study.

Basque political mobilization increased during this period, particularly after

Arana, seeing the relative success of the moderate Catalans in 1901, moved away from a clearly separatist position. The PNV enjoyed limited electoral success in the

83 While the importance of lineage for Arana was clear, he does not appear to have espoused any notion of biological racial superiority or racial hierarchy; rather, kinship as the basic identifier of membership in the Basque community and the need to protect the community from outside influences were the central theme.

245 provinces, primarily in Vizcaya and its capital, Bilbao. In 1918, after years of

industrial expansion as neutral Spain sat out the First World War, the first Eusko

Ikaskuntza (Basque Studies Society) and Euskaltzaindia (Basque Language

Academy) were established; jointly, their efforts focused on the expansion of Basque

literature, language standardization, and improving the status of the language in the

region. Despite these joint efforts on the cultural front, however, politically the

Basque movement split in 1921 into moderates, under the Comunión Nacionalista

Vasca (CNV, the renamed PNV) and radicals, inspired by Sinn Fein in Ireland,

advocating anti-capitalism84 and independence and adopting the old PNV name. The

latter group more closely adhered to Arana’s thought until it finally turned towards

Marxism in the 1960s. While the Basque ethnic parties were relatively minor

political players at this time, their political successes were increasing.

As stated in Chapter 4, the Primo de Rivera dictatorship (1923-1930) forced ethnopolitical activism underground; political publications were banned and leaders fled the country. However, this repression also forced the CNV and PNV to cooperate, both with each other and with other pro-democracy parties. By 1930 the two groups had officially reunited under the “Reunificación de Vergara”, which represents a revival of much of Arana’s thought (Medrano 1995: 83-4). While

internal divisions within the reunited PNV persisted, especially with regards to

strategy and social programs, the Basque nationalists became the largest party in the

Basque Country in the elections of 1931, 1933, and 1936; interestingly, this surge in

support came largely from conservative voters, especially farmers. In this respect the

84 This anti-capitalism should not be equated with Marxism. It was primarily a critique of economic concentration rather than of private property more generally.

246 Basque movement was returning to its foralist roots; indeed, in 1931 the Basques ran with the Carlists, although the latter turned to the far right by 1933 and the PNV ran solo in subsequent elections. The leftward shift of the PNV towards pro- republicanism resulted, however, in a decline in voter support between 1933 and

1936, indicating the conservatism of the Basque electorate.

The Basque nationalists also held a plebiscite for the creation of a Basque

Autonomous Community. Support in three of the provinces was overwhelming, but voters in Navarre rejected the statute; while voters in Alava supported the proposal, their support was much less than in the two provinces of Vizcaya and Guipúzcoa.

Rather than rework the proposal, Basque leaders chose to exclude Navarre from the project. In any event, Basque autonomy was short-lived: Implemented in October

1936, nationalist forces in the Civil War occupied Bilbao in June 1937, ending

Basque autonomy and ushering in Franco’s dictatorship. Basque leaders subsequently formed a government-in-exile across the border in France.

As with the Rivera dictatorship, General Franco sought to quash all regionalist identity and sentiment as part of a program of centralization and national unification.

From 1939-1945 the Basques were subject to extreme state terror as part of Franco’s anti-ethnic agenda; emigration surged as a result of the repression. After World War

II ended, the government-in-exile tried to bring pressure on the Allies to address

Franco’s oppression, including appealing to newly-created international institutions; however, the onset of the Cold War rehabilitated Franco, a staunch anti-communist, in Western eyes; this window of opportunity quickly closed.

247 The suppression of Basque ethnopolitical mobilization continued under

Franco. By the mid-1950s, however, small student groups began to emerge, some

associated with the underground PNV, initially advocating the study of Basque

language and culture. One such group, Ekin (to do), formed outside the PNV in 1952 and quickly adopted political objectives. This group merged in early 1959 with the culturalist PNV youth cell, the Euzko Gastedi del Interior (EGI). However, PNV attempts to control these groups failed: Ekin formally split with the PNV and took most of the EGI members with it and on July 31, 1959 this group renamed itself ETA.

ETA’s political position was a reaction to two important factors: the conservatism and perceived inertia of the PNV and the failure of the West to aid the

Basques against Franco. While the group incorporated some of Arana’s myths, especially his intransigence to Spanish identity and rule, it rejected the centrality of race and religion as the defining characteristics of Basque identity; language became the central concern. The movement soon adopted violent tactics, attempting in 1961 to derail trains carrying Francoist Civil War veterans. While the plot failed and ETA

110 members quickly arrested and tortured with another 100 forced into exile, it also highlighted the remarkable growth of the group: From approximately 10 Ekin members in 1953 the group had expanded to over 300 militants in 1960.

In 1960, in a separate action, 339 priests from the region signed a joint petition denouncing official Church support for the Franco regime and the atrocities

committed against the Basques. While this action was not associated with ETA,

Basque resentment towards Church complicity was manifest in ETA’s increasingly

secularist position. Additionally, ETA moved clearly in a Marxist direction, drawing

248 upon the works of Franz Fanon and other “Third-Worldists” for ideological and

tactical inspiration, including the adoption of guerrilla war as a strategy for liberation.

ETA dominated Basque ethnopolitical mobilization under the remaining years of Franco’s rule; the group split numerous times but generally retained a leftist guerrilla approach. The Spanish government responded to escalating violence with arrests, torture, and forced expulsions. However, the PNV did not remain completely

inert during this period: Cultural activities were revived in the early 1970s and a new

literary movement emerged. Basque language schools (ikastolak), initially operating underground, increased dramatically during the period. The Franco regime was clearly coming to an end and the two main segments of the Basque movement were mobilizing and positioning themselves to take advantage of the impending regime- change.

During the “Transition” period (1975-1978) following Franco’s death, the

PNV was able to regain much of the initiative and vitality it had lost to ETA; it also shed its racist and clerical roots and articulated a moderate, bourgeois line. Given its historical role as the leading Basque political structure, the PNV was the chief negotiator for the Basque Country on the region’s status in the new constitution, although escalating ETA violence and repression by security forces constrained the negotiation positions of both sides. In the end, the resulting Statute of Autonomy did not include Navarre or the right to self-determination; thus although the Statute was approved in a referendum in 1979, many Basque nationalists were unsatisfied.

Basque ethnopolitical mobilization continues at a high level, with the PNV continuing to be the largest party in the region. The Eusko Alkartasuna (EA), which

249 split from the PNV and advocates eventual independence, enjoyed significant support at its founding in 1985, but that support has slowly waned in the intervening years.

ETA, through its political wing Herri Batasuna (HB), enjoys a relatively consistent

degree of support, with violence continuing to be used. Thus the relatively early

politicization of Basque ethnicity, punctuated by periods of dictatorship and

repression, resulted in a high and continuing activism in contemporary Spain.

• Differential Fact

The most clearly defining element of Basque identity is the Basque language,

which is unrelated to any other Indo-European language and may be a direct

descendant of a pre-Celtic language and/or related to the Caucasian languages of

Georgian and Circassian (MacClancy 1996: 208). However, Arana downplayed the

centrality of the language as differentiating the Basques from the Spanish; rather,

Arana conceived the Basques in racial and religious terms. Arguments of genetic

purity are, of course, difficult to maintain even in the relatively isolated Basque

Country and were largely discredited by the end of World War II. And, of course,

Catholicism represents a dimension of unity with Spain.

However, Arana also constructed elements of Basque identity that persist as

differentiating symbols, including designing the Basque flag and composing the

anthem (1895, adopted in 1980) and, indeed, the very name of the group. The day of

his “nationalist conversion” on Easter Sunday, in 1882, is celebrated as the national

holiday, Aberri Eguna. There are even some indications that language was becoming

increasingly central to Arana’s conceptualization of Basque identity, but his suffering

with Addison’s disease and early death leave such interpretations to speculation.

250 What is clear is that the movement generally has shifted away from race and religion towards language as central to Basque identity. This represents the opening of group membership to immigrants: One need merely learn the language to become a

Basque. Interestingly, Basque linguistic distinctiveness may work against itself in this regard: The language appears particularly difficult to learn, thereby limiting the potential for demographic extension. Furthermore, even Basque-speakers find

Castilian more appropriate or useful than Euskera in many social contexts

(MacClancy 1996: 216-7).

Conversi argues that speaking Basque may be giving way to active participation in Basque ethnopolitical mobilization as indicative of membership in the community (1997: 203-5), which can be linked to Arana’s stress on patriotism as a moral obligation; this tendency may be more pronounced among supporters of HB than of more moderate Basques (MacClancy 1996: 213-4). Such a shift, should it come to represent the dominant Basque self-conception, would clearly expand the potential membership of the community, bolstering its potential ethnopolitical power.

Evidence of this shift is, however, considerably ambiguous (Conversi 1997: 205-8).

Finally there is the issue of territory. While many activists refer to the Basque

Country, that region has been divided between France and Spain for centuries.

Furthermore, Navarre’s heterogeneous demography and resistance to inclusion in the

Basque region, despite the considerable historical and linguistic connection to the rest of the Basque Country, serves to undermine the clarity of a Basque territory. Despite the relatively recent loss of political autonomy and shared experiences of repression, territoriality represents an important ambiguity. The Basque Autonomous

251 Community, therefore, does not contain and cannot speak for all contiguous Basques,

undercutting this dimension of differential fact.

Thus Basque ethnopolitical mobilization reflects perhaps the greatest degree

of adaptation and identity shift of all the groups considered here. While language

continues to represent the clearest marker of group differentiation, other cultural

symbols, a historical and territorial identity, and contemporary political institutions

facilitate the broadening of Basque membership. Ambiguities regarding the Basque

community, however, work against the furtherance of ethnopolitical mobilization.

• Spain – Catalans

While Basque and

Catalan ethnopolitical mobilization parallel each other to a significant degree, the two movements have been and continue to be dramatically different, reflecting the importance of the evolving

Spanish and European context as causal factors. One Castilian analyst surmises:

“The difference between Basque and Catalan nationalists is that Basques want to leave Spain, and Catalans want to run it (quoted in Medrano 1995: 190).” While something of an exaggeration, an account of Catalan ethnopolitical mobilization and differential fact provides an understanding of why Catalan and Basque mobilization

252 differ in so many respects and how contextual opportunities can generate similar behavior among dissimilar groups.

• Ethnopolitical Mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980 2000

As stated in Chapter 4, after centuries as a Mediterranean power Catalan autonomy was put to rest in 1716 by Philip V. The revival of Catalanism began with a literary renaissance, the Renaixença, which dates back to 1833. In important respects this early literary movement was able to progress beyond its Romantic roots to develop new forms of literature, unlike, by contrast, the Félibrige in neighboring

Occitanie in France (see above). The Renaixença impacted all the fields of the humanities and spread out over all the Catalan regions, including Roussillon in

France, the Balearic Islands, Valencia, and to the Sardinian port of Alguer. In 1859 the fourteenth-century Jocs Florals (Floral Games), gatherings of poetry contests and history pageants, were revived and conducted annually with the specific intent of reviving Catalan cultural identity and pride.

While there were some vague political aspects in Cataluña y los catalanes, written by Floral Games promoter Joan Cortada in 1860, as well as limited publications by other authors, it was Valentí Almirall’s Lo Catalanisme, published in

1886, which represented the clearest articulation of political Catalanism. Prior to this period, and especially during the short-lived First Republic (1868-1874), the political

253 tendency was federalist or Carlist, in other words anticentralist, rather than political

advocacy for the protection and extension of Catalan identity. Almirall, while clearly

drawing from this federalist tradition, began from an ethnic base to build his arguments for institutional accommodation. His 1885 Memorial de Greuges

(grievances), signed by a committee of businessmen, intellectuals, artists, and

workers’ representatives, was presented to King Alfonso XII. While the king’s death

the next month rendered the document moot, this represents a defining moment in the

politicization of Catalan identity.

At the First Catalanist Congress (1880), Almirall attempted to bring together

members of La Jove Catalunya (Young Catalan, a culturalist organization) to a

federalist agenda. While many conservatives resisted Almirall’s republicanism and

federalism, they did agree to form the Centre Català as a political organization

representing Catalan aspirations. The Second Catalanist Congress (1883), convened

by the new organization, opposed cooperation with Spanish political parties and advocated for regional political institutions and the recognition of Catalan as an official language alongside Castilian. Soon thereafter, however, conservatives left the

Centre and formed the Lliga de Catalunya, in 1887.

Almirall’s Centre continued to lose supporters and finally dissolved in 1890.

The next year an attempt to reunite the various strands of Catalanism resulted in the

formation of Unió Catalanista; its goals were more radically autonomist than the

earlier program outlined in the Greuges. Support for the Unió was mainly elitist,

however, with little headway in generating mass support being realized. In 1897,

after the Unió sent a letter to Greek King George I expressing sympathy for Greeks

254 under Turkish rule on Cyprus, the Spanish government reacted with brutal repression,

closing newspapers, clubs, societies, arrests, and house searches. This apparent

misstep resulted unexpectedly in electoral success: When the ban on the organization

was lifted in 1901 it became the largest party in the region in local elections later that

year; after the elections the Unió changed it name to the Lliga Regionalalista and

would dominate Catalan politics until 1931.

The Lliga, while moderately conservative, kept the Church in the background;

indeed, the party’s success led to a realignment of the Church in the region away from

Carlist national parties and towards the Lliga. After the central government

introduced the “Law of Jurisdiction” making offenses against the Army and national

symbols punishable by military tribunal, the Lliga and other Catalan parties formed

the Solidaritat Catalana coalition and won a sweeping victory in the 1907 elections.

However, the coalition soon fragmented from within; additionally, the industrialization of the region had created a proletarian base for alternative political movements, in particular Anarchists and Syndicalists, which began to successfully erode support for Catalanism. A general strike called by these two groups led to the invocation of martial law and five days of revolts, with bombings, lootings, assassinations, and the burning of churches and monasteries. The results of the so- called Setmana Trágica (Tragic Week) were three-fold: (1) the dangers of flirting with extreme radicalism were made apparent; (2) Catalanism moved leftward to incorporate some of the more radical elements; and (3) the central government, to diffuse the situation, created mancomunidades, regional administrative bodies with greater powers than the older provincial institutions.

255 In 1914 the Mancomunitat de Catalunya, incorporating the four diputacions

of Barcelona, Tarragona, Lleida and Girona, was established. Catalan activists

immediately seized the opportunity to expand regional administration, services, and

culture, creating the most intense cultural life of any region in Spain. Education, the

standardization of the language, and artistic creativity found expression in the broader

Noucentista movement, which both reflected and reinforced this regionalist vigor. As

a result “[c]ulture was no longer seen as a gratuitous activity – art for art’s sake – or

as a fruit of desperation – rebellious art. Culture had to become an efficient

collaborator of social reform engineered from above (Murgades, quoted in Conversi

1997: 36).”

However, this cultural and political flowering was not to last. Initially

supported by the Lliga as a move to restore stability, within a few days of the start of

the Rivera dictatorship all Catalinst activity was banned. When it became apparent

that the Mancomunitat would not implement his wishes, Rivera deposed its President

and then banned it altogether in 1925. Small cultural organizations continued to

operate clandestinely, however, and the Church continued its alliance with the

Catalanists in continuing to use Catalan in the liturgy. As the dictatorship progressed,

wherever Catalan was not expressly prohibited its use expanded.

The end of the dictatorship represented a renewal of Catalan ethnopolitical

mobilization. Interestingly, Catalan intellectuals found themselves in agreement with those in Madrid. Catalan activists were important participants in the broader

Republican movement, which overthrew the monarchy after the resignation and death of Rivera in 1930, in exchange for recognition of Catalan distinctiveness. The

256 leftward drift of the Catalan movement resumed after the Rivera interlude. The municipal elections of 1931 established Esquerra Republicana de Catalunya (ERC), in coalition with Unió Socialista de Catalunya, as the dominant Catalan political presence. That same year the Statute of Autonomy was passed overwhelmingly in a plebiscite; the autonomous Generalitat was established the following year with considerable powers.

The republican-socialist government, while undertaking significant reforms particularly in education, moved too slowly for many workers; additionally, the control of Catalonia by leftists during the right-wing dominance of the Spanish state

(1933-1936) limited the impact of regional attempts to govern. Attempts by Madrid to circumscribe Catalan autonomy led to the declaration of the “Catalan Republic” by the Generalitat in 1934; lasting only a few hours, the “coup” resulted in the arrests of more than 3400 Catalan politicians, effectively stripping the Generalitat of all authority.

With the Left victory in the national elections of 1936 came the release of the

Catalan politicians; the ERC was left out of the new regional government, which was based on the fusion into the surprisingly moderate Partit Socialista Unificat de

Catalunya (PSUC) of four Marxist organizations: the Catalan Communist Party; the

Catalan Federation of the Spanish Socialist Party; the USC; and the Catalan

Proletarian party. However, their attempt to resume governance was soon overshadowed by the rise of Marxists, syndicalists, and especially anarchists. These groups continued to press for revolutionary changes in Catalonia; at this same time

General Franco began the Civil War against socialism and separatism. With the

257 “conquest” of Barcelona in 1939 the Generalitat was dissolved and Catalan leaders either exiled or executed.

After the fall of Barcelona, Catalonia was subjected to a special “occupation” for six months during which Catalan books were destroyed, Catalan references were removed from public, statues and monuments were smashed, public notices in

Catalan were removed, and the language was officially banned as a spoken language.

Catalan symbols were outlawed. And priests “were advised to utter even their Latin homilies with a ‘Spanish’ pronunciation (Benet, quoted in Conversi 1997: 113).”

Hundreds were executed during the occupation, and hundreds of thousands fled abroad; a Catalan Government-in-Exile was established in London. Interestingly,

while the policies undertaken against Euskadi at this time were aimed at its eradication, in Catalonia the attempt was made to transform Catalan into a dialect of

Castilian, degrading and marginalizing its status.

The liberation of France and the impending Allied victory against Franco’s old allies Hitler and Mussolini provided an easing of repressions against the Catalans.

Clandestine activities during the war years became more public by 1946, albeit at a significantly reduced level from the years of the Second Republic. Catalan activism

continued during these years, including general strikes in Barcelona; while not

ethnopolitical, their occurrence highlighted the less-than-absolute control of the

Franco regime in the area. As a result a slow reemergence of Catalan political

mobilization, coalescing around themes of democracy and autonomy, began to

emerge under the leadership of the PSUC.

258 Interestingly, given the marginal role the Catholic Church had played in

Catalan ethnopolitical mobilization, evidence that Catalinism was alive appeared at

the Benedictine abbey of Montserrat in 1947. A three-year fundraising effort for the

construction of a throne for the Virgin icon was to be celebrated with a public mass in

Catalan; left-wing nationalists became involved in organizing the festival.

Approximately 100,000 people traveled to the remote location from all over

Catalonia, a huge Catalan flag was flown from a mountaintop for hours, and Catalan

was publicly spoken. Although there was no subsequent activism resulting from this

singular event, Catholic support for Franco resulted in the Church being a refuge for

Catalan; the Montserrat Abbey itself was to become a center for Catalanism in

subsequent years.

After the 1959 reshuffling of Franco’s cabinet at the expense of both Carlists

and Falangists in favor of Opus Dei technocrats seeking to open the Spanish economy

to the West, ethnopolitical activists and Catalan capitalists both sensed an opportunity

to press their limited demands; the latter group would become an important source of

funding for cultural activities. Later that year the Francoist director of the Barcelona

newspaper La Vanguardia, Luís de Galinsoga, while attending mass in Barcelona, shouted in a tirade “Todos los catalanes son una mierda (All Catalans are shit)

(Conversi 1997: 120)”. The subsequent boycotting of the newspaper, organized by

several grassroots organizations, and the firing of Galinsoga on Franco’s orders, were

hailed as signs of the persistence of Catalan consciousness after a generation of

dictatorship. Franco, during a visit to Barcelona, allowed for some loosening of

central controls, although only slightly.

259 Literary and, in particular, popular music revivals during the early 1960s signaled a reawakening. In 1964 the Diada (Catalan national holiday) was celebrated publicly for the first time. Summer schools for the teaching of Catalan were established in 1965. The next year a clandestine meeting in a convent to create a

Catalan student union was surrounded by the police; the participants refused to surrender, leading to a standoff. After a few days the police forced their way into the convent and arrested most of the attendees; however, in response students called a general strike, requiring the closure of the Universidad de Barcelona, engaged in street protests, and formed a political organization, the Taula Rodona, including the

PSUC and other opposition groups, to coordinate unified action. In 1969 the

Coordinating Commission of the Political Forces of Catalonia formed from the political party representatives in the Taula Rodona; in 1971 these two forces combined to form the Catalan Assembly. Unlike the Basques, therefore, the last years of the Franco regime saw cooperation and common-cause across the spectrum of political and activist groups in Catalonia. On the Diada of September 11, 1977, during the Transition period, one million demonstrators marched peacefully through

Barcelona demanding the reinstitution of the 1932 Statute of Autonomy.

Although the surprising unity of the Catalan political groups did not survive democratic competition, the general agreement on the need for autonomy led to the swift approval of the Statute for Autonomy in 1979. Catalan politics was initially dominated by the PSUC and similar center-left parties; separatists were marginalized, in sharp contrast to the Basque Country. After a series of splits and mergers, the

PSUC joined with the national Spanish Socialist Party (PSOE) to form the PSC-

260 PSOE, providing a peculiar opening for Catalan activists in Madrid. However, it was

the centrist Convergència i Unió (CiU) that was to dominate Catalan politics.

Originally left-of-center, the CiU, though a series of alliances, has moved to occupy

the center-right, gaining support from the middle classes; in the 1990s the CiU has

formed minority governments in Madrid with both the Socialists and the

conservative Popular Party, each time predicated on continued support for extending

Catalan competencies.

Catalan ethnopolitical mobilization represents a strong, yet interestingly non-

separatist, phenomenon. Two main ideological parties articulate Catalan interests in

Madrid as well as govern locally. Catalan culture continues to bridge gaps across social cleavages. As a result, Catalan ethnopolitical mobilization represents perhaps the strongest case surveyed in this study.

• Differential Fact

Catalan identity, as with the other “historical nationalities” in Spain, is largely based on the primordial distinctiveness of language. However, the early and sustained literary and cultural efforts represent significant early advances in establishing Catalan differential fact. Furthermore, territorial ties to the historical

Kingdom of Cataluña and its literary, political, and cultural heritage reinforces differential fact. The construction of cultural symbols and language standardization further reinforced Catalonian distinctiveness. Indeed, of all the elements of differential fact outlined above only religious difference vis à vis Spanish identity is lacking.

261 As one would expect, such a distinct, large (16% of the population) group

should mobilize early and effectively under democratic contexts. What is most

remarkable, therefore, about Catalan identity is not its ethnopolitical mobilization, but

rather the degree to which immigrants have been assimilated. The two Catalan

Statutes of Autonomy stipulate that any resident of Catalonia is Catalan;

“naturalization” is therefore both a legal and a cultural process. The pervasiveness of the language in the workplace, culture, literature, and the public sphere provides powerful incentives for immigrants to learn Catalan; the symbolic value of the language and Catalanism as progressive and liberal reinforce these pressures

(Woolard 1989: 134-7). In this respect Catalonia represents an important exception to the cases surveyed here: In no other region are immigrants learning the ethnic language to such a significant degree.

• Spain – Galicians

Galicia, located in extreme north-western Spain, is the third national minority represented in this survey.

Galician enjoys legal status equal to Basque and Catalan in the present Spanish Constitution and the region realized an autonomy statute similar to those of the Basque regions and Catalonia in the Second Republic (1936).

Interestingly, this legal equality has not translated into a level of ethnopolitical mobilization equal to the other “historical nationalities”. Indeed, Ramón Máiz speaks

262 of the “political deficit of Galician nationalism (Máiz 1994, 174)” as an indication of this surprising comparative weakness in ethnopolitical mobilization.

• Ethnopolitical mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980 2000

Interestingly, Galician ethnopolitical mobilization began in similar ways to those of other groups. Between 1840 and 1860 a variety of cultural organizations emerged espousing Galician distinctiveness. Works outlining a particular Galician history appeared shortly thereafter, some of which pointed to a Celtic heritage within

Galician identity, reinforcing the emerging regionalist movement. The Galician literary renaissance, the Rexurdimento, can be dated to the publication of the first work written entirely in Galician, Os Cantares Gallegos, by Rosalía de Castro in

1863. These literary efforts culminated in the formation of Irmandades da Fala

(Language Brotherhoods) in a variety of locations with the express purpose of advancing Galician literary productivity; these organizations set up publishing houses for the production of newspapers, magazines, short stories, plays, and the like.

These considerable advances on the language front were not, however, able to generate a sustained political mobilization. The 1846 uprising against the dictator

Navaraéz and the 1856 Banquet of Conxo, while attracting considerable numbers of intellectuals interested in Galician autonomy, failed to generate mass support or to institutionalize the sentiment. Divisions regarding the end goals of Galician

263 regionalism undermined attempts after 1890 to establish an encompassing political presence for the movement.

The Irmandades proved to be the foundations for a renewed attempt at political organization; from these groups political parties contesting local elections emerged which appeared to have at least partially overcome the cleavages between regionalists and autonomists. However, a new cleavage emerged after 1922 between liberals and traditionalists. This development, in conjunction with the Primo de

Rivera dictatorship (1923-1929) and its extreme centralizationist policies, resulted in the undisputable failure of political Galician mobilization.

As with the Basques and Catalans, the Galician movement dramatically reemerged during the Second Republic in 1931. However, the regionalist/autonomist divide also reemerged, embodied respectively during this period in the Partido

Galeguista (PG) and Organización Republicana Gallega Autónomia; the traditionalists also reappeared as the Nationalist Republican Party. The superior organizing skills of the PG contributed to its electoral success and the realization of

Galicia’s Statute of Autonomy in 1936.

However, the Spanish Civil War put an end to all ethnopolitical mobilization, including in Galicia; the PG leadership relocated to Buenos Aires but were ineffective in impacting Galician fortunes. Conservatives managed to survive the initial repression, but all political activity was crushed. Cultural mobilization reemerged in

1950 with the establishment of Editorial Galaxia publishers. Political mobilization reappeared in 1963, with the founding of the Consello da Mocedade (Youth Council) and, more clearly, in 1964 with the formation of the Unión do Pobo Galego (Union of

264 the Galician People; UPG) and the Partido Socialista Galego (Galician Socialist

Party; PSG). Progress on the linguistic front continued as well with the establishment of the Cátedra de Lingua e Literatura Galegas in 1965 and the Instituto da Lingua

Galega in 1968. While open political activity was still problematic, the stage was set for ethnopolitical resurgence after the end of the Franco regime.

A broad coalition of Galician parties was formed in 1975 under the leadership of the UPG. Early Third Republic Galician activism was dominated by parties on the left; while this coalescence represented an important achievement, conservatives were effectively excluded from political Galeguismo. This has served to limit the potential of Galician political activism.

The approval in a referendum on April 18, 1981 of the Statute of Autonomy has not signaled, however, new heights of Galician ethnopolitical mobilization.

Indeed, after a disastrous showing at the polls in 1982 Galician parties reformulated themselves and centrist and right-wing Galician parties emerged. Collectively the parties struggle to gain 20% of the vote, which by no means implies that these parties cooperate in the endeavor. Thus while Galician mobilization is at a higher level than many other groups in Western Europe, the rather tepid support for Galician ethnic parties stands in stark contrast to the other “historical nationalities” of Spain.

• Differential fact

Scholars of Galician identity point to the almost singular focus on linguistic differences from Castilian Spanish as the central differentiating element. However, the relatively close relationship to Portuguese resulted in an ambiguity in Galician linguistic uniqueness, which generated competing linguistic objectives manifest in the

265 Reintegracionista (reintegrationist – union with Portuguese) and Independentista

(linguistic independence) movements. This tension serves to undermine the potential that the Galician literary movement represents for later ethnopolitical mobilization.

Apart from language, facets of ethnicity differentiating Galician from the larger Castilian identity are few and weak. There are some cultural differences, the relative size of the population is much larger than most other mobilized national minorities surveyed here (about 8%), and the region is rather geographically distinct from the Castilian heartland. However, there was no clear historical experience as an independent political unit and no religious or ideological cleavages from Spain. The social construction of Galician identity, therefore, highlights both the potential and the limits of such efforts in relation to the primordial aspects of identity.

• United Kingdom – Cornish

In many respects the

Cornish movement represents precisely the irrational, sentimental effort towards identity-building and advocacy that has functionalists and rational-choice scholars shaking their heads in disbelief. The area, conquered in the tenth century by Anglo-Saxons, with a language clearly in decline by the seventeenth century and revived from old texts by a handful of scholars, had little apart from memory and a few stories on which to build a Cornish

266 identity. However, a Cornish “revival” began in the twentieth century and quickly

became linked to the broader Celtic revival; more recently, interest in Celtic

“spiritualism” has generated an exogenous source of Cornish identity construction.85

Thus the ethnopolitical mobilization of Cornish identity, while still quite limited, continues to gain momentum and articulates accommodation equal to the Welsh and

Scots; as a result, it is included in this study.

• Ethnopolitical Mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980 2000

Cornwall as a political entity was conquered in 936 by the Saxons, beginning

the long process of integration into England. By the seventeenth century scholars

were noting the imminent demise of the language. Some limited attempts to record

and preserve the language, while failures in the short-run, represent the critical works

from which modern scholars have revived the language. While many point to the

death of Mrs. Dolly Pentraeth, supposedly the last Cornish monoglot, in 1777 as the

end of Cornish as a language, others find evidence in a handful of cases that the

language lingered on into the next century.

By the late nineteenth-century a small group of scholars sought to revive

Cornish, although the “movement” was so small that the names of all its members are

known. In 1901 Henry Jenner, quoted at the beginning of this chapter, founded

85 The effects of the particularly interesting phenomenon of exogenous interest in Celtic paganism and

267 Cowethas Kelto-Kernuak (The Celtic Cornish Society) as a first attempt at a linguistic

revival. He joined the Gorsedd in Brittany that same year, and then gave a speech in

Cornish at the Union Régionaliste Bretonne in 1903. Jenner’s advocacy of the

Cornish cause led to its admission to the Celtic Congress in 1904 over the objections

of other Celtic activists who argued Cornish was dead or, worse, Anglified.

Publications in Cornish began to appear in the 1920s alongside new organizations,

always with Jenner at the center. By his death in 1934 there were eight Cornish

speakers, and Cornish societies had sprung up in many locales in the region.

After World War II the Cornish movement entered a new phase. In 1951 a

political organization, the Mebyon Kernow (Sons of Cornwall), was established.

Initially little more than an interest group, the party fielded its first candidate in 1971.

Although the party, and the splinter Cornish Nationalist Party (1975), remain

politically insignificant, their efforts and the emergence of other interest groups

continue to raise the status of their claims for treatment equal to other Celtic

peripheries in the United Kingdom. Cornish festivals and demonstrations for

economic and political reforms have begun to draw thousands of residents of the

region, in addition to increasing numbers of tourists, in recent years.

• Differential Fact

Cornish identity suffers from a number of ambiguities which thus far continue

to undermine its distinctiveness from the national identity. The region had no clear

political identity, even prior to Saxon conquest. Religiously it has been indistinct

subsequent construction of Celtic identity and the clash of these two Celtic constructions in Cornwall are beyond the scope of this study.

268 from the English. The relative population of the region is small (.8%). And the

language, as discussed above, all but died out more than two centuries ago.

However, the Cornish ethnopolitical trajectory provides insight into both the

potential and the limits of the construction of ethnicity. Early leaders were motivated primarily by a desire to preserve an older patrimony, despite the lack of any economic or social benefits. The focus of the Cornish movement has been, at least until recently, solely on reviving the language as the foundation for Cornish identity. More recently, efforts to expand the Celtic identity and the promulgation of a flag and holiday extend the scope of differential fact.

There are two less salient aspects of Cornish differentiation that as yet do not appear central to Cornish identity. The first is geographical: Like the Bretons, the

Cornish occupy a distinctive peninsula distant from the capital and distinctive in its physical characteristics. The eastern boundary, the river Tamar, was established as such at the time of Saxon conquest. Second, there is a shared history of

differentiation and rebellion from England extending back to the myth of the

founding of Britain by Brutus and other refugees from Troy. Less mythical were the

series of fifteenth- and sixteenth-century rebellions which play a central role in

Cornish identity (Stoyle 2002: 27-8).

Interestingly, the construction of Cornish identity emphasizes its place in the

larger Celtic fringe over its distinctive elements. Perhaps a function of a paucity of

differential fact, Cornish activists emphasize the centrality of the Cornish language

and, by extension, Cornish identity in the broader Celtic world. Implicitly, therefore, rights and accommodations granted to other “Celtic” identities should be afforded the

269 Cornish; the emphasis becomes, therefore, not how distinct the Cornish are from the

English, but rather how similar they are to the Welsh, Scots, Irish, and Bretons.

The Cornish case posits two possibilities. First, attempts at ethnopolitical mobilization may be circumscribed, despite the best efforts of ethnic entrepreneurs, by limited “primordial” sources of identity differentiation: Reviving a dead language

may simply not generate enough of an identity from which a mass movement can

emerge. However, even the limited level of Cornish mobilization may indicate that

the evolving institutional and ideational context have lowered the differential fact

“threshold” for mobilization to occur. While not constructed from thin air, Cornish

identity certainly appears overwhelmingly constructed; should the movement

continue to generate increasing support, this may say more about the context in which

mobilization occurs than about the salience of Cornish identity itself.

• United Kingdom – Northern Irish Catholics

In some respects the

ethnopolitical mobilization

of Irish Catholics is

relatively unproblematic,

especially in terms of

differential fact: Irish

Catholics have a distinct

language, culture, religion,

territory, history, and a

relatively large population. Perhaps not surprisingly, therefore, Irish Catholics

270 realized the most extreme form of institutional accommodation: independence. In this light, the Northern Irish Catholics, left out of the new state established in 1921, merely represent the continuation of that earlier trajectory of mobilization, with the aspirations of, in particular, Sinn Fein to become part of the Republic of Ireland being equally consistent.

However, since the 1960s an alternative trend has appeared akin to and inspired by the American Civil Rights movement, raising the possibility of a shift in

Northern Irish Catholic identity. Furthermore, there is a grassroots interest in reviving the Irish language, both for its own sake and as part of larger idiom of political expression and participation (O’Reilly 2001: 87). Thus the Northern Irish

Catholics are necessarily included in this survey.

• Ethnopolitical Mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980 2000

The political mobilization of the Irish in opposition to English rule extends back, albeit unevenly, many centuries to the conquest of Ireland under Henry II in

1172. The distinctiveness of the Irish from the British, especially along religious lines after the establishment of the Church of England, has been a consistent theme throughout the period. However, following the tragedy of the Potato Famine (1846-

1850), Irish mobilization virtually disappeared. Its reemergence in the 1850s followed the familiar trajectory outlined in this survey: the formation of Irish

271 language societies such as the Ossianic Society (1853), the Society for the

Preservation of the Irish Language (1877), and the Gaelic League (1893). Political mobilization in the form of lobbying in London for Home Rule began in the 1870s; the failure of the Home Rule legislation generated a revival in Unionist activism particularly in Northern Ireland among Protestants, mobilized by the prospect of Irish secession. Irish mobilization continued to escalate and broaden, resulting eventually in armed conflict and Home Rule for twenty-six counties; the historic province of

Ulster, shorn of three counties, remained part of the United Kingdom with a separate parliament at Stormont, outside Belfast.

Throughout this period Northern Irish Catholic mobilization was considerably muted, at least in part due to local Protestant demographic, political, and economic dominance (Boyce 1990: 39). While the Nationalist Party emerged following partition in 1921, it remained relatively ineffective throughout the Stormont period.

In addition, republicanism, which advocated an immediate merger with the rest of the island, took hold. However, support for both movements, especially beyond the ballot box, remained tepid.

The emergence of the Civil Rights movement in the late 1960s changed both

Northern Irish Catholic mobilization and identity. Catholics appeared increasingly to reject unification with the Republic, at least in the short- and medium-term, and embrace activism for equal political rights. The Nationalist Party, increasingly politically irrelevant, gave way to the newly-formed Social Democratic and Labour

Party (SDLP) which emerged from the Civil Rights movement. This modern, well-

272 organized, and effective political party dominated the Catholic electorate until the reemergence of republicanism under Sinn Fein following the hunger strikes of 1981.

Increasingly since 1921 the partition came to be favored by the British,

Unionists in Ulster, and, perhaps surprisingly, by the Republic of Ireland. Only the

Northern Irish Catholics, and a small and declining number of republicans in the

Republic, were unsatisfied. Catholic exclusion from political and economic power in

Ulster was pronounced; on this basis the Civil Rights movement eventually mobilized. The SDLP, committed to realizing political power within Ulster rather than to immediate unification, reflects this shift in identity away from broadly Irish to particularly Ulster Irish. Political mobilization persists at a high level, although in some respects the SDLP line is not clearly ethnic, but rather assimilationist. This ambiguity is reflected by Catholics themselves, who tend to support unification in principle, but not in the short- or medium-term (Boyce 1990: 47-50).

• Differential Fact

As stated above, Catholic Irish identity is clearly and powerfully differentiated from British. However, the differentiation between Ulster Catholics and Protestants is much less so and is based primarily on religion. Irish is not generally in use, with the exception of small enclaves of Irish speakers reviving the language; these areas and interest in Irish generally are almost wholly Catholic concerns.

Demographically, the Catholics are the minority in Ulster, although parity appears imminent. The ambiguity of Catholic goals makes it unclear if this case is properly considered an ethnopolitical group.

273 • United Kingdom – Northern Irish Protestants

This study hesitantly includes the Northern Irish Protestants in this survey of national minorities. In many respects, this group is an anti-ethnopolitical minority, seeking to advance and articulate Britishness above all other identities; in this light

Northern Irish Protestant identity is a negative identity: not “what we are” but “what we are not”. Furthermore, the political activism of this group can clearly be explained in terms of fears of having Ulster joined to the Irish Republic. Yet their inclusion in this survey may provide insights into this peculiar group, which appears to be unique in the United Kingdom in that it has a national but no sub-national identity (see Chapter 5). Additionally, there are signs of an emerging construction of

Northern Irish Protestant identity, perhaps in part as an attempt to develop a basis for group rights and accommodations should they become a minority resulting from current demographic trends.

• Ethnopolitical Mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980 2000

While Ulster Protestant political activism has been a persistent feature of

Northern Irish political life since the late nineteenth-century, this mobilization cannot generally be described as ethnopolitical. Even the emergence of the Democratic

Unionist Party (DUP) in 1969 under the leadership of the Reverend Ian Paisley from the Official Unionist Party (OUP) cannot be said to be quite ethnopolitical: Although

274 radical Protestantism and British symbolism are central to the group, their focus is on preventing accommodation with the Catholics to preserve their integral union with

Great Britain rather than to differentiate themselves as a distinct sub-group. They are, in this respect, hyper-assimilationist and, therefore, ethnopolitical mobilization does not appear to be occurring

• Differential Fact

The Protestants of Northern Ireland have few facets of differential fact on which to build a distinct identity. Furthermore, Ulster Protestantism consciously and enthusiastically manifests a clearly British identity, embracing those symbols as its own. In this regard, the apparent absence of any sub-national identity sets this group apart from all other national minorities in the United Kingdom.

Yet the Ulster Protestants have been willing to reject the authority of London; a strong independent attitude and a siege mentality appear to be generating a kind of ethnic identity. Indeed, in 1972 a new pamphlet, Ulster – A Nation, appeared, arguing that the Ulster Loyalists were a distinctive community with a British identity but no inevitable commitment to the United Kingdom government (Murphy 1990: 62-

3). Indeed, the primacy of British identity is used to justify the differentiation between Ulster Loyalists and the English. Additionally, the physical separation of

Ulster from the rest of the United Kingdom may reinforce the sense of distinctiveness. Thus Murphy concludes “that the regional peculiarism of symbolic and emotional Britishness in Northern Ireland, coupled with the siege mentality, contains within it the seeds of a new national identity (1990: 63).”

275 There may indeed be an emerging ethnic consciousness, perhaps best

illustrated in the occasional and increasing substitution of “Ulster-Scots” for

“Protestant-British” or “Ulster-Protestants” in Unionist dialogues (Porter 1996: 89-

91). Central to Unionist identity is the contractual relationship between the region

and the United Kingdom; for many Unionists the apparent willingness of Whitehall to

sacrifice Ulster interests necessitates that the region, as a community, be willing to

separate (Murphy 1990: 62-3). Additionally, the Marching Season, in which

Protestants march to commemorate English victory over the Irish, serves to mobilize

significant portions of the group in outward expressions of group affinity and

symbolism, unique to this group (Cecil 1993: 146-7); while marches have a long

history, they appear to increasingly serve as a point of community distinctiveness

rather than merely a show of political preeminence and power. In this case, the

construction of an ethnic identity may

be a function, should it occur, of a

need, after the fact, of justifying in

ethnic terms the group’s political

status.

• United Kingdom – Scots

Of all the groups considered

here the Scots stand out as the only

national minority not to have been

conquered or absorbed by the national

276 power;86 rather, the Parliament was joined to that in London in an Act of Union

(1707), while Scottish law, the Presbyterian Church (Kirk), among other rights, were kept by the local population. Ethnopolitical mobilization among the Scots emerged early and has been considerably well-established, although administrative devolution only reestablished the Scottish Parliament in 1999. The Scots are, therefore, perhaps the best example in this survey of differential fact and ethnopolitical mobilization.

• Ethnopolitical Mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980 2000

Despite the ascension of James IV, King of Scotland, as King James I of

England in 1603, formal unification of the two countries was not realized until 1707 with the Act of Union which created the United Kingdom. The retention of Scottish law, the Kirk, and cultural symbols virtually ensured the continued salience of

Scottish identity. However, prior to Romanticism such artifacts did not generate nationalist demands.

The cultural revival of Scottish identity, or more clearly its construction, can be dated to 1820 with the foundation of the Celtic Society of Edinburgh: Although the

Celtic Highlanders represented only a small segment of the population of Scotland, it was their symbols rather than the less-differentiated Teutonic Lowlanders that would be developed as quintessentially Scottish. Two years later King George IV, the first

86 Other groups, such as the Bretons and French Basques, were joined to their countries through

277 English monarch to visit Scotland since the seventeenth century, donned the kilt in a

ceremony full of Highland symbolism and pageantry. Sir Walter Scott, a contemporary, romanticized the Scottish identity to popular audiences both in

Scotland and to the South, in England and on the Continent. Literary productivity increased, although primarily in English rather than Scots or Gaelic.

More formal associations emerged in the 1850s advocating the advancement of Scottish culture. The first of these, the National Association for the Vindication of

Scottish Rights (NAVSR) founded in 1853, argued for a reworking of the Union with more authority for Scottish institutions and reform of education policies to advance local languages. Although the association collapsed in 1857 under jingoistic pressures of the Crimean War (1854) and Indian Mutiny (1857), its influence remained, symbolized in the monument to William Wallace, constructed in 1856 as a symbol to the Scottish patrimony and a focal point for Scottish nationalism, whose personality cult has spread even to present-day Hollywood in the film “Braveheart”

(1995).

The formation of the Gaelic Society of Inverness in 1871 represents a resumption of formal pressure groups advocating Scottish interests. In 1886 the

Scottish Home Rule Association (SHRA) was established to lobby explicitly for devolution, pressuring both Liberals and Labour candidates. Other groups, such as the Young Scots, formed in an effort to bring additional pressure for Scottish concerns on Liberal and Labour MPs. But eventually it became apparent that such pressure was not likely to yield the desired results of Home Rule, in no small part due

dynastic union. As will be shown below, the possible dynastic union of Scotland and England in 1603 was not implemented. Instead, the two polities were merged into a novel United Kingdom.

278 to both the declining fortunes of the Liberals and Labours turn to centralizationist policies.

As a result, more formal political groups began to appear. The Young Scots

Society (1900), the Scottish Patriotic Association (1901), and the Scottish National

League (1904) represent parties passoires evidenced by other national minorities.

While organized as political parties, none attempted seriously to field candidates.

After World War I, however, a renewed literary revival, in conjunction with the establishment of Home Rule in Ireland in 1921 and the de facto revocation of

Labour’s commitment to Home Rule for Scotland, rekindled arguments for the establishment of a competitive Scottish party (Pittock 1991: 144-5). The Scottish

Nationalist Movement, founded in 1926, became the National Party of Scotland two years later. A merger with the more culturally nationalist Scottish Party in 1934 resulted in the Scottish National Party (SNP).

Prior to 1942 the SNP was itself unclear as to whether it should seriously contest elections; this changed at the annual conference of that year, in which it was decided to decisively reject the pressure group approach and become a free-standing political party (Hutchison 2001: 84). Since that time the SNP has espoused leftist economic and political principles behind the primary cause of devolution for

Scotland; it remains the main political vehicle for Scottish nationalism. Its fortunes have been in part tied to that of Labour more generally; as Scotland began to deviate from the British norm in its move to the left starting in the 1960s, both parties benefited although the SNP made larger gains than Labour.

279 Support for the SNP peaked in October 1974 with just over 30% of the

Scottish vote. In 1979 a referendum on devolution was held with the requirement that

support for the measure had to be supported by a majority of voters and exceed 40%

of the electorate. A majority of votes were cast for the bill, but low turnout meant

that only 32.85% of the electorate has supported the measure. The SNP then refused

to back the Labour Government in a vote of confidence. The government fell by one

vote and the subsequent victory of Thatcher and the Tories, along with a significant

shift in Scotland away from both Labour and the SNP spelled, for some, the end of

Scottish ethnopolitical mobilization.

However, the SNP survived its early 1980s decline and began to rebuild. The

party continued to advocate for a Scottish Parliament and, with the Labour victory of

1997 the issue of devolution was again put to the voters. This time, however, the results were dramatically different: 74.3 % of voters, representing 44.9% of the total

electorate, voted for the measure.87

Scottish ethnopolitical mobilization is, therefore, among the earliest, most

persistent, and most advanced of those presented here. It does, however, represent a

relatively recent phenomenon emerging within an evolving institutional context.

Thus the importance of contextual evolution is reflected in this potentially most

salient of cases.

• Differential Fact

As outlined above, the Scots have a number of factors that differentiate them

from the English: language; religion; territory; and history in addition to constructed

87 In this second referendum, there was no 40% threshold stipulated.

280 artifacts of literature; holidays; and a flag.88 Presbyterianism has served a dual role in differential fact: Some emphasize the Kirk as reflecting a distinct Scottish identity while others point to Protestantism more broadly as a basis for British collective identity. Interestingly, the presence of two languages, Gaelic, a Celtic language, and

Scots, related to English, has not posed the same quandary for ethnopolitical mobilization as it has in Brittany: The region, embodied in the Kingdom of Scotland, remains a clear institutional and symbolic representation of Scottish identity, overriding the linguistic divide.

Interestingly, the Celtic Highlander as the symbol of Scottish identity is a relatively recent construction. In the eighteenth century the Celtic history of Irish expansion into Western Scotland was reworked to establish the Scots as the ancient

Caledonians who, after resisting Roman aggression, proceeded to populate Ireland

(Trevor-Roper 1983: 15-18). The kilt was invented by an English Quaker, Thomas

Rawlinson, around 1730; it became so popular the British Parliament banned it in

1746, thereby giving the kilt an authenticity it might otherwise have lacked.

Interestingly, traditional Scottish dress and the kilt on which it was loosely based both waned in popularity, along with the bagpipes, throughout the eighteenth century. As noted above, however, by 1820 the equation of Scottish identity with Celtic

“tradition” was complete. Scottish ethnopolitical mobilization is, therefore, perhaps the least problematic primordial and the most clearly constructed case of ethnic identity surveyed in this study.

88 Interestingly, there is no Scottish anthem other than “God Save the Queen”. Presently there is a grassroots initiative for the adoption of a new anthem.

281 • United Kingdom – Welsh

In many respects the

Welsh are similar to the Scots and Irish in the United Kingdom.

They reside in a widely accepted historical region, have a Celtic language, and are geographically remote from London. Yet despite a relatively long history of ethnopolitical mobilization, the Welsh stand out as, in some sense, reluctant ethnopolitical activists. The institutional accommodations achieved in 1999 are both limited compared to those of Scotland and Northern Ireland and were barely approved. Thus what needs explanation is the relative inability of Welsh ethnopolitical activists to generate support similar to other groups in the United

Kingdom.

• Ethnopolitical Mobilization

4 3 2 1 0 1800 1820 1840 1860 1880 1900 1920 1940 1960 1980 2000

Wales enjoyed, for a time, relative unity under Celtic rule in the ninth and tenth centuries. However, the region was eventually conquered by the Norman, who

282 established a Marcher system of fortresses and fiefdoms throughout the area.

Following the Act of Union in 1536, Wales was administratively integrated into the

English state, ending the ambiguity of decentralized Norman institutions.

Welsh national identity began to reemerge in the 19th century with a cultural

and literary revival. A national Eisteddfod, a cultural and literary gathering based on centuries-old tradition, was revived annually starting in 1858. The Cummrodorion, a

Welsh cultural society, was formed in 1872.

A more formal pressure organization, the Cymru Fydd, was established in

1886 as an umbrella advocacy organization. However, the group collapsed over a

divide between North Welsh and South Wales Liberals in 1896, reflecting a mutual

mistrust that was to plague the movement in subsequent years. After World War I a

renewed interest in political mobilization led to the establishment of the Welsh

Nationalist Party in 1925. Plaid Cymru, the contemporary Welsh party, was established in 1929, but has only been a serious political contender since 1966.

Despite the burning of an R.A.F. bombing school in 1936 by the leader of

Plaid Cymru, prior to 1959 the party was really little more than an interest group

(Balsom 1990: 9). In 1962 the creation of the Cymdeithas yr Iaith (Welsh Language

Society), which was more active as an interest group on the cultural front, freed Plaid

Cymru, whose broader political programs were increasingly socialist, to focus on

politics. The party, while not as successful as the SNP, paralleled that party’s

electoral successes during the 1960s and 1970s.

Similarly, Plaid Cymru paralleled the SNP’s failures. In 1979 the referendum

on the establishment of a Welsh assembly was overwhelmingly rejected, with only

283 12% of eligible voters in support of the measure.89 This, coupled with the

Conservative victory in May which included significant gains in traditionally Labour

Wales, appeared to many to spell the demise of Welsh nationalism. However,

Thacherism led to considerable increases in industrial unemployment in Wales, serving to undercut some of the new-found Conservative support. The decline of

Welsh-speaking appeared to stabilize. And Adfer (Reconstruct) was formed advocating the creation of a Welsh-only area (gaeltacht) as part of an effort to solidify a Welsh cultural base (Williams 1985: 299).

Plaid Cymru slowly regained political support and articulated a plan for a

Welsh assembly less extreme than the 1979 proposal: in effect, the new assembly

would merely assume the duties of regional institutions run from London. Attempts

by Conservatives shortly after their election, to retract a pledge for a Welsh radio

channel, which had been supported by all parties in the election, were met with public

hostility and the threat of a hunger strike by Welsh leader Gwynfor Evans; shortly

thereafter the channel began broadcasting and Welsh nationalism was seen as having

scored a victory.

The commitment to a regional assembly tied the party more closely when

devolution was again put to a referendum in 1997; with just barely more than the

minimum 50% turnout, the initiative was supported by 50.3% of votes cast; the

assembly which resulted is considerably weaker than that approved overwhelmingly

in Scotland. Interestingly, the swing in votes supporting devolution appears primarily

to have occurred in areas where, in 1979, it was most strongly resisted rather than

89 Interestingly, Plaid Cymru was divided on support for the referendum, but opposition to it by the Welsh Nationalists appeared too difficult a position to articulate. Thus the party’s short-term fate was

284 expanding in areas where Plaid Cymru support had been articulated earlier (Chaney,

Hall and Pithouse 2001: 4-5); support for devolution therefore was broadening across

the different areas of Wales (see below). Thus on the one hand there are signs of

broadening commitment to Welsh political mobilization; on the other hand, that commitment remains comparatively weak overall.

• Differential Fact

Wales has, on the surface, most of the components of differential fact posited as necessary for ethnopolitical mobilization. Wales was largely politically unified under Celtic kings as late as 927; the Norman Marcher territories in Wales weren’t unified with England until the 1536 Act of Union. This shared history and cultural tradition have served modern activists as a foundation for differential fact. The Celtic language, still in considerable use and to a much higher degree than in any other

Celtic region, represents another critical dimension, along with the literature it has spawned. And, interestingly, the Nonconformist reaction to the Anglican Church created a religious differentiation in the nineteenth-century (Hechter 1991: 59). The adoption of an anthem, flag, and holiday in the late nineteenth-century completes the picture of differential fact.

Interestingly, the Eisteddfod does not appear to have been a deliberate invention; rather, it was a revival around 1700 by culturalist John Roderick of a centuries-old celebration, although it was not until 1858 that it was celebrated annually. The creation of the Gorseddau, cells of bards, in the 1790s was a much clearer attempt to construct Welshness. Similarly, the triple harp, which had become popular in the late seventeenth century in Wales as an import of the Italian Baroque

tied to a proposal it did not initiate nor fully support.

285 harp by way of England, was adopted in the early nineteenth-century as the instrument of Wales (Morgan 1983: 76-8). And the Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau (Land of

My Fathers), composed in 1856, was adopted by the Welsh, and later the Cornish and

Bretons, as the national anthem. Clearly, therefore, the Welsh are distinct from the

English along both primoridial and constructed elements.

What is missing from this picture and perhaps accounts for the lower-than- expected ethnopolitical mobilization is the considerable population within Wales which rejects the Celtic identity. Welsh language and support for Plaid Cymru are concentrated in the north-western part of the region. The south-east is considerably industrialized and contains large anglicized communities; while there have been signs of support for Welsh regionalism from this area, there remain a significant fear on the part of both the Western Welsh and those of the South-east of dominance by the other group in any regional institutions. Finally, the eastern portion of the territory is, in essence, an extension of Western England, considerably anglicized and rejecting most

Welsh manifestations of ethnopolitical mobilization. Thus Welsh identity is considerably salient, such that it generates a clearly anti-Welsh reaction from significant portions of the population in the historical territory; this division undermines ethnopolitical mobilization.

Conclusion

The qualitative survey of national minorities in France, Spain, and the United

Kingdom confirms a number of the preliminary assumptions and findings of the quantitative analysis at the beginning of the chapter. First, ethnopolitical mobilization is clearly a trajectory beginning with cultural, and more specifically

286 literary, movements seeking to preserve or revive a fading identity. The politicization

of these movements comes, if at all, well after cultural activism begins.

Second, the construction of ethnicity represents a clear and effective goal for

ethnopolitical elites. The expansion of the foundations of ethnic identity appears to

be both a necessary effort and a general concern for these activists. On the other

hand, no ethnic identity surveyed here is purely constructed; in each case there were

some primordial elements in place upon which ethnic entrepreneurs could build.

Third, the argument of differential fact appears confirmed: It is not any single

or handful of dimensions of identity difference that are necessary for ethnopolitical

mobilization; rather, activists and supporters seize on what differences there are to

emphasize their unique identity. However, while the expansion of differential fact

explains the evolution of ethnopolitical mobilization, how extensively a group can

mobilize may be a function, in part, of how much primordial difference there is; in

other words, constructing identity may only take a group so far along the

ethnopolitical mobilization trajectory

Fourth, while this chapter has emphasized group-level factors and their

implications on ethnopolitical mobilization, there is clear evidence of the centrality of

context to mobilization in every case. The expectation of this chapter was that

assessing individual groups would likely explain only a part of the variation in ethnopolitical mobilization; this assumption appears to have been bourn out.

However, by examining the universe of cases in detail, both a richer account of larger dynamic of ethnopolitical mobilization is provided as well as evidencing the need to

287 move beyond statistical and institutional generalizations to capture the flavor of the

question at hand.

Finally, and unexpectedly, this survey indicates an increase in elite interest in

ethnic identity while assimilation of the masses continued. Successful mobilization

requires, therefore, not merely the generation of interest among the masses, but

counteracting ongoing assimilation. As noted above, however, elite attempts to reverse this trend do not appear political; indeed, the transformation of cultural ethnicity to a basis for political support frequently required decades of cultural mobilization. Thus elite behavior appears, at a minimum, to be more complex than merely creating a basis for gaining political power, perhaps best explained by assuming ethnic identity to have a powerful emotional appeal in its own right.

288 Conclusion: Towards a New Model of Ethnopolitical Mobilization

This study explored the (re)emergence of ethnic identity as the basis for political activism through various “windows”: group-level factors; domestic identities, structures, and policies; and international ideas and institutions. What emerges is a complex picture of highly varied political activism interacting with evolving national and international contexts. A model such as that represented in

Figure 7-1 illustrates the interplay between these various levels:

Figure 7-1: A Generalized Model of Ethnopolitical Mobilization

Most scholars would likely agree that a generalized model such as this provides a comprehensive representation of ethnopolitical mobilization, as it clearly implies the interplay between factors across a variety of levels; once set in motion, the model illustrates an evolving dynamic set of interrelationships and captures the broader analysis provided in this study. Unfortunately, this model’s very comprehensiveness limits its usefulness: The model only vaguely expresses interrelationships with little specificity as to the strengths of those relationships or to facets of the various elements that may, in fact, not be clearly interrelated; furthermore, this articulation implies that everything effects everything equally,

289 which is likely untrue and at a minimum overly simplistic. While increasing the detail of the model will certainly reduce its generality, such refinement should generate a clearer picture of specific factors and their particular interrelationships which can then be used to evaluate other movements and contexts. This chapter will develop a more specific model of ethnopolitical mobilization than that provided in

Figure 7-1 based on the preceding chapters, evaluate the model in comparison to other approaches outlined in Chapter 1, and conclude with a discussion of the implication of the findings for contemporary political policies in Western Europe more generally.

Group-level factors

Chapter 6 outlines the findings of the quantitative analysis of seven cases and the associated qualitative assessment of all fifteen national minority groups in the three countries covered here, in part in an attempt to avoid selection bias frequently occurring in other studies of ethnopolitical mobilization in Western Europe. Both methodological approaches were used to address potential problems had only one of these types of analyses been employed. A number of significant findings resulted from those studies and serve as useful building-blocks for establishing a new model of ethnopolitical mobilization.

First, this study took the unusual approach of exploring these groups over a much longer time period than most studies of this nature use. The rationale for this approach is borne out in that one finds considerable variation in the timing of the initiation of the process of ethnopolitical mobilization: Some groups become politically active in the early nineteenth-century, while others lag by decades.

290 Furthermore, by looking back to a time prior to any ethnopolitical mobilization, the entire trajectory can then be assessed, both when comparing groups at any particular time as well as looking at any single group over time. Ethnopolitical mobilization appears, in almost every case, as a very protracted process; limiting analyses to the post-World War II time period, as many studies do, would necessarily omit the initial phases of the long trajectory of mobilization, yielding information about variations among already-mobilized groups but failing to provide insight into how such groups begin the process of mobilization.

Second, Hroch’s framework proves a powerful heuristic tool for evaluating the longer process of mobilization beyond voter support. Additionally, the inclusion of a distinct level of mobilization between political interest and mass movements in this study, which Hroch sees as a sometimes protracted transition, provides evidence that many groups fail to move beyond this “transition” phase, pointing to interesting potential research in assessing small political parties which fail to participate effectively in elections, yet nonetheless persist as organizations to advance an ethnic agenda, and why such “parties” would be content never to succeed electorally; one early hypothesis would be that these groups impact policy by virtue of their status as political parties despite the broader paucity of electoral success. Furthermore, the findings in Chapter 6 confirm that Hroch’s phases are sequential in that at least the initial realization of one phase requires having achieved a lower level of mobilization.90

90 The Spanish cases do seem to imply that mass mobilization can be realized immediately following restorations of democracy without necessarily moving through each phase. However, even in these cases the initial realization of political mobilization required building on lower levels; subsequent returns to those levels, in particular after relatively short interregnums, may indeed be possible.

291 However, while the analysis does illustrate the necessity of progressing

through various phases in order to realize mass mobilization, from culture to

advocacy to non-competitive political organizations to mass movements, the study also shows that this progression is neither inevitable nor irreversible. Elite disagreements regarding the nature of ethnicity, for example, can serve to undermine the efficacy of the ethnic movement, miring it in a level of mobilization below what might otherwise be possible. Alternatively, implicitly or explicitly repressive governmental policies can limit, or in some cases reverse, mobilization. Thus while mobilization must be seen as a cumulative process requiring lower levels of activity to achieve higher levels of mobilization, stagnation and reversal are clear possibilities.

Third, the emerging consensus that ethnic identity is both primordial and constructed appears well-founded: While no groups presented here are purely constructed identities, indicating that an entirely manufactured ethnic identity is unlikely, the importance of ethnic entrepreneur activity in enhancing group distinctiveness is also clearly established by the findings. Furthermore, while this

assumes territory to be a necessary condition for mobilization, it uses territory as one

of the defining characteristics of the groups to be included here, no single aspect of

ethnicity can be said to be sufficient. Rather, it is the degree of difference between

the ethnic group and the national identity that is critical, expressed here as

“differential fact”. The salience of differential fact does appear to be impacted by

ethnopolitical mobilization; however the weight of the relationship is clearly in the

292 other direction, with the evolution of differential fact heavily impacting ethnopolitical

mobilization.

Thus what emerges from the exploration of group-level differences is that

ethnopolitical mobilization is a protracted and potentially reversible process in which

only lower levels of mobilization appear as necessary conditions for higher levels.

Ethnic entrepreneurs play a critical role in the process, both as participants in

mobilization and in constructing features which serve to increase the perceived

differential fact between the group and the national identity. While mobilization may

reinforce differential fact, the relationship between these two dimensions appears

primarily in the other direction: differential fact strongly impacts mobilization.

Figure 7-2: Group Factor Interactions

Figure 7-2 illustrates the dynamic interrelationship between differential fact and ethnopolitical mobilization as two distinct group-level factors. The evidence

presented in Chapter 6 clearly establishes differential fact as the dominant element in

the relationship (indicated by the bold, solid arrow): the “magnitude” of

distinctiveness drives political activism, although activism can weakly reinforce this

sense of distinctiveness (indicated by the lighter, dashed arrow). While not

represented in the illustration (for the sake of clarity) but clearly identified in the

analysis, both primordial and constructed elements comprise differential fact.

293 State-level effects

Group-level factors provide critical insights into what is, at its root, a group

phenomenon. However, both the quantitative analysis and the general evaluation of

ethnopolitical mobilization indicate that state-level factors play a significant role.

Interestingly, the case-level studies, taken together, indicate a variety of both

expected and surprising factors at work shaping and responding to group behavior.

Perhaps the least-surprising finding is that national minority policies do

indeed matter. While the dramatic swings between democratic accommodation and

dictatorial repression in Spain most clearly indicate the significance of state policy with regards to ethnopolitical mobilization, the range of assimilationist and accommodationist policies evidenced in the three countries explored here appear to impact mobilization in two distinct ways. First, some policies undermine the organizational potential of particular groups, limiting their efficacy by limiting their activity, undermining potential popular support, or removing leadership. Second, policies represent opportunity structures restricting or making available avenues for political efficacy. In this light, more distinctive groups will access political opportunities more quickly than less distinctive groups, although that process may result in expanding these opportunities for other groups. Finally, national minority policies are themselves impacted by ethnopolitical mobilization, although policy adaptation to mobilization appears to be weaker than the impacts of policy on mobilization.

An additional and surprisingly significant dimension of state level factors is the national identity itself. Unexpectedly, national identity appears to be in large

294 measure a function of the process of state formation and consolidation, although there

does appear to be some impact on the national sense of self as ethnic groups

increasingly differentiate themselves. Therefore, to account for the nature of national

identity outlined in Table 1-2 one must look to often lengthy histories of state

consolidation.

National identity, which itself appears both primordial and constructed,

impacts the process of ethnopolitical mobilization via three distinct mechanisms.

First, the nature of the national identity shapes and legitimizes national minority

policies, which then impact the process of ethnopolitical mobilization. Second, the

national identity establishes the normative legitimacy of sub-national identity

mobilization, thus influencing that process directly.

Thirdly, and perhaps the most overlooked dimension in the broader literature,

is the role of national identity as the normative context within which sub-groups try to

differentiate themselves. As differential fact makes clear, the number and magnitude

of facets of ethnicity salient enough to facilitate ethnic identity building are a direct function of the national identity itself; were there sufficient factors at the group level, as many studies of ethnicity assert, national identity would be less relevant to the process of ethnopolitical mobilization. Thus national identity appears as a critical element in the broader process, requiring some understanding of its formation to better account for state-level factors involved.

295 Figure 7-3: Group-State Factor Interactions

Figure 7-3 integrates these state-level factors with group-level factors to

illustrate the interrelationships between various elements. As with Figure 6-2, the strength and direction of the relationship are indicated by the arrows. The centrality

of the national identity to ethnopolitical mobilization, as argued above, becomes clear

in the patterns of interrelationships between state and group level factors. Reflecting

the quantitative analysis explored in Chapter 6, the largely unidirectional impact of

domestic institutions on group level factors and activity, with only limited avenues of

feedback, is also shown. Thus domestic factors, with national identity at their core,

represent powerful variables in understanding ethnopolitical mobilization.

European-level Factors

Finally, at the highest level of analysis are those factors which represent the

broadest context. This study focuses on the evolution of both institutions and ideas relating to national minorities and how these two elements in combination comprise the normative and institutional context in which state-level policies and ethnopolitical

296 mobilization occur. The impact of European factors is not limited to influencing

state-level elements, however; evidence of these supra-national dynamics appears at

the group-level as well.

As Chapter 2 makes clear, the evolution of ideas regarding national minorities

directly shapes European institutions, albeit with a lag; there does appear to be a

limited feedback effect, with the promulgation and functioning of institutions shaping

ideas of national self-determination. Not surprisingly, these ideas also impact

national minority policies; the evolution of liberalism supported nineteenth-century

assimilationist policies as well as twentieth-century accommodation. However, ideas

regarding the nature of ethnicity and group-rights also impact the perceived

legitimacy and nature of differential fact. In turn, ideas addressing ethnic legitimacy

are themselves influenced, albeit weakly, by the success of such movements.

European institutions impact ethnopolitical mobilization in two distinct

manners. First, and perhaps least surprising, institutions provide political

opportunities for mobilized groups to exploit in advancing their cause distinct from

domestic policies and the institutions that result. Second, the existence of such

institutions appears to provide normative space for ethnopolitical mobilization as

legitimate political activities, even in opposition to national delegitimization based on national identity.

297 Figure 7-4: Group-State-European Factor Interactions

The integration of European level factors explored in Chapter 2 into the model completes the picture of ethnopolitical mobilization outlined in this study. European thought clearly impacts both national minority policies and differential fact, while

European institutions, largely arising from both ideas and domestic level policies, represent political opportunity structures, when they exist, for ethnopolitical mobilization. While ideas regarding national minorities are weakly affected both by international institutions and group level mobilization, the evolution of these norms clearly represents the driving mechanism behind European level factors.

Figure 7-4 therefore illustrates the very complex interrelationship of factors impacting ethnopolitical mobilization. If the model could then be set into motion, a better appreciation of its complexity over time would become apparent. However, by illustrating the process in this manner, it becomes clear that there are clear

298 mechanisms of relationships, with some factors only weakly impacting others and, in other instance, no clear relationship between particular elements. Furthermore, there is a relatively small number of independent “factors” to be explored. Thus this model may serve both as an explanatory tool and a heuristic guide for further research.

How this study relates to the broader literature

What the model in Figure 7-4 fails to address, however, is: What underlies the process? Or, to put it another way: Why do people get involved in ethnopolitical mobilization, either as ethnic entrepreneurs or as supporters? As outlined in Chapter

1, the dominant literature argues that individuals are acting according to self-interest:

Ethnopolitical mobilization occurs to address economic or political inequality in favor of the ethnic group. Ethnic entrepreneurs construct ethnic identity and encourage mass mobilization as a power base from which to press political and/or economic demands.

While these arguments help explain some of the process of ethnopolitical mobilization, this study introduces findings that cannot be easily explained by these models. First, ethnopolitical mobilization appears to require cultural activism as a base; there is no evidence that early cultural activists, often inspired by Romantic ideals, pursued political objectives. Second, the trajectories of ethnopolitical mobilization are in most cases many decades long. If the dominant models are correct, they assume generations of activism and sacrifice for gains only realized, if at all, in the distant future; such an assumption would be directly contradictory to the notion of immediate interests underlying these rational-actor models.

299 This study suggests in the Introduction that a new dimension of “interests”

should be included: the emotional satisfaction of ethnic identity. If ethnic identity can

be assumed to have significant psychological benefits, as illustrated by Peter

Schlemiel, the picture presented here becomes much clearer. First, cultural activism

becomes “rational” in that the activists are not merely laying the foundations of a

cause: they realize emotional gains through their ethnic activism. Second, the long

trajectories of mobilization outlined here are much less problematic, as gains are being realized throughout the process, rather than being limited to higher stages of mobilization.

In addition, the centrality of constructed elements of ethnicity becomes clearer. While it could reasonably be argued that ethnic entrepreneurs develop aspects of identity, such as a literature, anthem, flag, etc., merely to build differential fact, thereby enhancing their prospects for political activism, the clearly emotional nature of such elements and evidence that these emotional symbols do indeed generate mass support, can be better explained when the psychological power of ethnic identity is introduced. Thus if increasing the salience of ethnic identity is assumed to generate immediate psychological benefits, the “problems” of ethnopolitical mobilization highlighted here are more readily accounted for.

Implications

In the Introduction it was argued that ethnopolitical mobilization is far from merely an intellectual curiosity; rather, this phenomenon represents, at a minimum, a challenge to the hegemony of the national identity in these states and the institutional and social integration that identity implies. At the other extreme ethnopolitical

300 mobilization can represent a fundamental challenge to the very future of the state, as

sub-national identities increasingly demand institutional accommodation of their

distinctiveness and groups not clearly distinct from the national identity respond with

demands for equal accommodation. Clearly the expectation that democracy and

capitalism would lead to a “melting pot” national identity inclusive of all sub-national

groups appears unfounded when territorially-based groups are involved.

The question remains, however: Are there points in the trajectory of

ethnopolitical mobilization where assimilation could be realized, or does the near

ubiquitousness of ethnopolitical mobilization among groups with both differential

fact and a historical claim to territory imply that attempts to assimilate such groups

must inevitably fail? Perhaps not surprisingly, the findings presented in this study

indicate a complex response: national identity, differential fact, and international

norms determine if and when attempts to assimilate such groups are likely to succeed.

Furthermore, a policy undertaken at one time may prove effective, but that same policy in a later period may fail. Thus when particular attempts to assimilate are undertaken is as important as what those policies themselves are.

As the case of Spain shows, dictatorships can undertake extreme policies that, at least in the short run, stifle ethnopolitical mobilization. Interestingly, both Spain and evidence from, for example, the former Soviet Bloc indicate that ethnic sentiment does not itself disappear under harsh conditions; rather, its public expression and political activism are circumscribed. Furthermore, it appears that even the harsh dictatorship of Franco needed to relax some of its initial severe measures; sustaining

301 the level of oppression necessary to prevent mobilization of highly distinct groups may prove untenable for all but the most harsh dictatorships over the long term.

A more pressing issue, however, is what, if anything, can democracies do to prevent the kind of extreme ethnopolitical mobilization evident in Belgium. Two particular points of intervention appear plausible, but may in fact represent policies incompatible with democratic norms. First, in each case ethnopolitical mobilization is predicated on prior cultural activism; restricting or undermining the formation of cultural organizations may in fact prevent the initiation of the trajectory outlined in this study. Second, restrictions on the construction of differential fact, such as banning publications or public displays of ethnic distinctiveness, would undermine the magnitude of differential fact for all but the most distinctive groups. Finally, attempts to eliminate or co-opt ethnic leadership would undermine both the construction of differential fact and reduce the pool of political leadership available to realize higher levels of ethnopolitical mobilization. However, each of these three options conflicts to varying degrees with generalized norms of democracy and may, therefore, be untenable.

A third path, most clearly reflected in the French policies of the Third

Republic, is the carrot-and-stick assimilation of ethnoterritorial populations, particularly through public education. Indeed, this study argues that France, which undertook the most aggressive policies of all the democracies considered here, realized the greatest successes toward assimilation. However, those policies were at least in part validated by the broader democratic norms of the day, in which late- nineteenth-century Liberalism found self-determination for some groups and

302 aggressive assimilation of others to be fully compatible. The continued evolution of

liberal thought and, in particular, the explosion of national self-determination

following both world wars may have altered the normative context to such a degree

that overt assimilationist policies become untenable.

It may therefore be the case that assimilation of national minorities is

incompatible with contemporary democratic norms; rather, modern democracies must

accept the need for accommodation, despite the clash such compound nationalisms

may represent for national identities that reject multiple identities as legitimate.

Furthermore, it appears to be the case that accommodation and satiation are

realizable: Scotland and Catalonia, the two cases explored here most viable as independent entities, appear relatively content to remain within their national

contexts. The continuing evolution of international institutions reinforce the viability of ethnoterritorial groups, yet need not necessarily spell the demise of the state.

However, it may also be the case that some groups, such as the Catholic Irish, are too fundamentally distinct to be retained within a democratic United Kingdom, particularly when historical grievances compound differential fact. Thus the price of democracy in cases with national minorities may be compound nationalism, institutional accommodation, and, for a small number of cases, permitting secession.

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Appendix

This study uses the latest version of the Minorities At Risk (MAR) Phase IV

dataset as the basis for the quantitative analysis, which codes for seven of the fifteen

national minorities in France (Basques, Bretons, Corsicans), Spain (Basques,

Catalans), and the United Kingdom (Northern Irish Catholics, Scots). Some measures are coded annually, 1990-2000, others in five-year increments over differing time-

frames, and still others are held constant. To more fully assess the role of group-level

factors and their impact on ethnopolitical mobilization, this study codes additional measures and modifies some of the MAR measures to conduct the analysis presented

here. A complete description of these measures is provided in Section I. The

analyses are presented in Section II.

I. Indicators used in the analysis

I.I Measuring ethnopolitical mobilization

As an attempt to unravel the considerable debate regarding elements of

ethnicity and their impact on ethnopolitical mobilization, this chapter undertakes a

preliminary, exploratory quantitative analysis in an attempt to generalize about the

relative significance of group-level factors, using the MAR codings for groups within

the three countries explored in the larger analysis. However, the MAR project

focuses explicitly on conflictual situations measured by parameters qualitatively

assessing protest (prot), and rebellion (reb); as the discussion in Chapter 1 regarding

ethnopolitical mobilization illustrates, however, ethnic activity need not be

324 conflictual. Consequently, this study codes ethnopolitical mobilization (bcpolmob)91 as a qualitative measure from 0-4 reflecting the three phases of ethnopolitical mobilization developed by Hroch and frequently referred to by other scholars: in

Phase A (coded 1) cultural, and in particular literary, organizations emerge with no clear political agenda, reflecting a general concern among intellectuals for the preservation of ethnic identity; Phase B (2) sees the emergence of interest groups and advocacy by politicians for particular accommodations to protect the ethnic identity; finally, in Phase C (4) mass mobilization occurs, frequently denoted by the emergence of ethnic political parties. A separate coding for the transition from Phase

B to Phase C (3) is included: Hroch and others find that this transition can be protracted and in some cases groups seem to remain in this “transitional” state. This phase is primarily characterized by the emergence of political parties that rarely seriously contest elections, groups which Maurice Duverger refers to as parties passoires,92 yet these groups press demands more coherently and forcefully than

interest groups or individual political advocates and, therefore, represent a

qualitatively distinct phenomenon. Group codings are extended back to 1800 in an

attempt to capture the longer trajectories of mobilization articulated by Hroch.

I.II Measuring primordial elements of ethnicity:

Testing the hypothesis regarding differential fact requires that a number of

additional issues be addressed. First, despite the relative agreement that ethnicity

consists of both primordial and constructed elements, the MAR dataset contains

91 All parameters coded by the author contain the prefix “bc” to clearly differentiate them from the MAR codes.

325 measures only for the former. These include measures for differences in language

(lang, langfam), custom (custom), and religion (belief). Individual (reg1-6) and summary (groupcon) measures for demographic concentration are included, as are historical factors such as length of residence in the polity (traditn) and loss of autonomy (autlost, autonend). Finally, a range of measures for cultural differences

(cultdifx1-6) are coded, some of which are captured by other indices in the dataset.

Two of these parameters are modified for use here. First, belief, which is

relevant only to the Northern Irish Catholics and Scots, are coded as equally distinct

from the Anglican Church. However, while there may be comparable theological

distance between the Anglicans and the Catholics and Presbyterians, a shared

Protestant heritage has historically been used by many to emphasize commonalities

between Scots and English; as a result, bcbelief is coded 0 for most groups, 1 for

Scots, and 2 for Northern Irish Catholics to reflect the clear distinctiveness

Catholicism has from Anglicanism. The second modified index is traditn; this study provides dates for the formal loss of autonomy for all groups in bctraditn rather than the ordinal codings from the MAR to provide more variance on this parameter. In all cases these measures are held constant over time.

I.III Measuring constructed elements of ethnicity:

The second significant area of concern is the need for the inclusion of measures for constructed artifacts into the analysis to provide a more comprehensive assessment of the impact of inter-group differences on ethnopolitical mobilization.

More specifically, Cartrite (2002) argues that ethnopolitical elites tend to focus in

92 Cited in Jacob 1994, 163.

326 particular on developing such artifacts as a flag (bcflag), anthem (bcanthem), and

holiday (bcholiday) as well as the generation of an ethnic literature (bclitren) and

achieving a general agreement with regards to a standardization of the language,

frequently through the creation of a linguistic institute expressly for such a purpose

(bclangstand); dummy variable codings indicating the clearest year of the adoption

of these symbols are included for each group where possible.

II. Testing “differential fact” on ethnopolitical mobilization

To reiterate, the three broad hypotheses tested here are:

H1: Inter-group differences are significant in explaining ethnopolitical mobilization

H2: “Differential fact” explains more of the variance in ethnopolitical mobilization than its component elements

H3: Differential fact is more significant than relative group size with regards to ethnopolitical mobilization

Methodology

With the limitations of the data in mind, a quantitative analysis is undertaken to test the general hypotheses outlined above with an eye towards developing a heuristic framework to facilitate qualitative assessments of each group. The underlying assumption regarding the testing of indexes is that when a cumulative index is shown to be more significant than the sum of its component parameters, this is due to factors having context-dependent significance; it is, therefore, the overall degree of difference that is important rather than differences along particular dimensions. This first-cut analysis does not attempt to address the issues raised by

327 pooled, cross-sectional, time-series data; rather this study focuses on simpler tests

comparing means of the parameters through crosstabulations with additional linear

regression analysis for confirmatory purposes.. In addition to testing the hypotheses

outlined here, this approach should determine if further, more nuanced analyses are

justified.

The analyses of individual variables or clusters of related variables will take

two forms. First, a crosstabulation against bcpolmob will generate an appropriate

comparison statistic for each variable. Most of the independent variables are ordinal;

the relevant statistic for comparison is Goodman and Kruskal’s gamma (G), which

measures the strength of the relationship from 1.00 to -1.00 with 0 indicating no

relationship. For dichotomous independent variables, Cramer’s V, ranging from 0

(no relationship) to 1 (perfect relationship) will be reported.

The second step of analysis is a linear regression to determine a t statistic of

significance. While having an ordinal dependent variable violates the assumption for

linear regression analysis, two caveats justify its use: First, there are five categories

for the dependent variable, serving to bolster the assumption of linearity; second, the

main concern of this study is for general indications of relationships, which should be

realizable even given concerns with the data. When the independent variable is

continuous, the study will only use regression analysis.

H1: Inter-group differences are significant in explaining ethnopolitical mobilization

The expectation that inter-group differences matter is both reasonable and unsurprising, although the bias of much of the ethnopolitical mobilization literature

328 towards contextual factors demonstrates implicitly the expectation that inter-group

differences, while not necessarily insignificant, are not particularly illuminating.

However, testing this hypothesis represents a relatively simple task; as a result, this

chapter will test the hypothesis using two distinct approaches. First, a crosstabulation

of numcode, the identifier for each group, is run against bcpolmob, generating a G =

-0.1358, indicating a relationship exists. Second, a regression is run using dummy

variables for each country rather than numcode, to generate a better estimator; an

adjusted r2 = .1429 at a 0.000 level of confidence indicates there does exist a

relationship between inter-group variations and ethnopolitical mobilization.

Hypothesis 1 can be accepted.93

H2: “Differential fact” explains more of the variance in ethnopolitical mobilization than its component elements

One simple test of the hypothesis is to explore catness, a summary indicator of self-perceived group distinctiveness coded by Charles Tilly. While regression does generate a significant t (-10.95, p>|t| = .000), the codebook provides no indication of

the components of this measure, so its value for interpretation here is questionable.

Furthermore, “unpacking” elements of ethnicity to see which have a greater impact

on ethnopolitical mobilization represents a significant and interesting task. This study

breaks down components of ethnicity below to test the impact of each on

ethnopolitical mobilization; primordial elements are addressed first, followed by

constructed aspects.

93 The t statistics for each dummy variable are not listed, as they are based on a baseline of one group compared to the others rather than as a single variable against the dependent variable.

329 Culture

HC: Custom is positively related to bcpolmob

Although culture represents a notoriously difficult concept to define, Table 1-

1 of Chapter 1 indicates more scholars see cultural distinctiveness as a definitive element of ethnic identity than any other category. The MAR dataset provides a number of qualitative codings to capture different aspects of cultural distinctiveness, as well as a summary statistic. Interestingly, some of these measures point to territory, religion, and language as components of culture. This study will treat these elements separately.

Culdifx5 codes for no (0), some (1), and significant (2) cultural differences between the ethnic group and the national identity. This is a broader measure than custom, which codes for same (0) or different (1) social customs. However, in the

dataset no groups have culdifx5 coded 1; therefore the two measures are identical.

As a result, custom will be used. The hypothesis expects that cultural distinctiveness

is positively related to ethnopolitical mobilization; however, a Cramer’s V = .1237

indicates a weak relationship while the t statistic, 0.23 (P>|t| = 0.821), shows the

relationship is insignificant. Thus the hypothesis must be rejected.

Territory

HT: The spatial concentration (groupcon) of a group has a positive relationship to ethnopolitical mobilization

Many scholars point to the centrality of historical claims to territory as an important factor in group identity formation and, especially, in ethnopolitical mobilization. A territorially-based group appears to make demands for institutional

330 accommodation different from groups without such claims. Indeed, in the European

experience “national minorities” are differentiated from other groups based primarily

on language and territory.

Unfortunately, the seven groups considered here all have territorial

components; thus the effects of claims to territory cannot be tested with the dataset

compiled here. However, a related hypothesis is that the greater the demographic concentration of a group within its territory the greater the sense of group cohesion and, therefore a positive relationship with ethnopolitical mobilization is expected.

Groupcon is a summary statistic of six measures of concentration. Interestingly, this measure returns a G = -.2305 and a t = -7.56 (p>|t| = .000), indicating a significant negative relationship, contrary to the expectations of the hypothesis; in essence, this measure indicates that as group concentration increases, the probability of ethnopolitical mobilization decreases. Before speculating as to the nature of this relationship, however, prudence suggests exploring the different components of this composite measure to more clearly understand the nature of this finding.

To capture variations of group concentration, MAR codes six different variables (reg1-reg6). In the dataset there is no variation on reg2 (majority in one

region, minority in nearby area) and reg6 (widely dispersed group); these are dropped

from the analysis. Reg1, a dichotomous measure for “group concentrated in one

region” has a V = .1237 but a t = -.023 (p>|t| = .821), indicating the variable should be

considered insignificant. The measure for “dispersed minority in one region”, reg3, has a V = .2687 and a t = 7.93 (p>|t| = .000), indicating a significant positive relationship between groups “living separately” (the only non-zero score coded in the

331 dataset) and ethnopolitical mobilization. Reg4 (“majority in one region, others

dispersed”) returns a V = .2075 and a t = -7.62 (p>|t| = .000), indicating a negative

significant relationship between dispersion and ethnopolitical mobilization. And the

dichotomous parameter for “predominantly urban”, reg5, generates a V = .2192 and a

t = 5.35 (p>|t| = .000), indicating a significant relationship between urbanization and

mobilization.

Table A-1: Comparing Elements of groupcon

V, G t Adj. r2 Reg1 .1237 -.023 -.0007 Reg3 .2687 7.79 .0428 Reg4 .2075 -7.62 .0393 Reg5 .2192 5.35 .0193 groupcon -.2305 -7.56 .0384

As this summary of the four parameters with variation indicates, there is a

positive significant relationship between “dispersed minority in one region” and

“urbanization” with regards to ethnopolitical mobilization. “Majority in one region,

others dispersed” may indicate that a coding of 1 represents less group concentration

than a 0, thus giving a negative relationship. While the codebook is not clear, the summary variable may, therefore, be miscalculated, leading to the unexpected finding

regarding groupcon. However, while “dispersed minority in one region” shows

statistical significance, this measure may also indicate increased dispersion for a

group; interestingly, most groups are coded 0, yet the codebook does not provide an

indication of this code, rather, codes are listed from 1-3 in increasing concentration.

As a result, therefore, it appears there are a number of substantial concerns

with the coding scheme for territorial concentration, both in terms of the codings themselves and the lack of variation in the dataset. In this case, caution would

332 suggest that the hypothesis can neither be accepted nor rejected. While territoriality may be an important factor, the quantitative analysis cannot definitively determine its importance.

Language

Many scholars of ethnicity, including one of the earliest, Johann Gottfried

Herder, argue that language represents the clearest and most salient marker of group

differentiation. However, there are a number of questions surrounding the

relationship between linguistic distinctiveness and ethnopolitical mobilization. For

example, is having a different language sufficient, or does the relative degree of

linguistic difference matter, with more distant linguistic gaps generating a higher

sense of distinctiveness and, therefore, a higher probability of mobilization? Does

having more than one language for a group inhibit mobilization by undermining the

clarity of difference? Is mobilization related to the extent of language usage and, if

so, how?

The MAR dataset provides two distinct measures for language which allows

for the quantitative testing of the first questions. The first, lang, is an ordinal measure

of functional linguistic difference: Groups are coded for how much penetration of the

national language has occurred. Langfam is a measure of the distance between the

national and minority language, measured as the number of linguistic branches

separating the two. Two hypotheses can be tested with these measures:

HL1: The more the local language is retained (lang) the greater the probability of ethnopolitical mobilization

HL2: The more distinctive a language is (langfam) the greater the probability of ethnopolitical mobilization.

333

A crosstabulation of lang generates a G = -.2802, which supports HL1; the

relationship is negative because of the measurement of lang, with increasing levels of

assimilation being coded higher (thus the greater the degree of assimilation the lesser

the impact of language on ethnopolitical mobilization); the t statistic = -9.81, again

indicating significance and the negative relationship expected by the hypothesis. For

langfam the G = .0966, indicating a weak relationship with the sign being the reverse

of what would be expected due to coding; t = .65, indicating an insignificant

relationship. Thus the hypothesis that the degree of difference between the ethnic and

national languages matters (HL2) must be rejected.

History

As stated above, a direct measure of history is difficult to derive for ethnic groups. However, two measures reflecting historical experience may prove significant. One dimension is the length of time a group has been incorporated into the national polity; the expectation is that the longer the historical integration, the greater the likelihood of assimilation. Indeed, functionalist scholars assume this

relationship to be true; the long historical experiences of states in Western Europe

should, therefore, provide a significant test. Thus:

HH1: There is a significant negative relationship between years in the polity (bctraditn) and ethnopolitical mobilization

As stated above, MAR provides an ordinal measure for years in the polity

(traditn); however, there is no variation among the groups in this dataset. The alternative coding provided for this study (bctraditn) establishes a constant for each

group for the year of incorporation. Surprisingly, the crosstabulation generates a

334 weak G: .0170. Regression also shows no significant relationship: t = 1.76 (p>|t| =

.079). Thus this hypothesis must be rejected, suggesting that groups long incorporated into a polity are no less likely to mobilize politically than more recent incorporations.

The MAR parameter auton codes for historical autonomy, an alternative measure arguing that a historical experience as an independent entity should be positively associated with political mobilization:

HH2: Historical autonomy (auton) should be positively related to ethnopolitical mobilization.

At first blush the findings are promising: V = .2495 and t = 6.95 (p>|t| = .000).

However, a closer look at the codings reveals significant problems. Only the Scots are coded for autonomy; in fact, of the seven groups surveyed here only the Catholic

Northern Irish and the Corsicans can be said to have had no lengthy experience as independent political entities. When recoded to account for this error (bcauton), the findings prove insignificant: V = .1237 and t = -.023 (p>|t| = .821). Thus both the hypotheses relating to historical experience are rejected.

Religion

Interestingly, Table 1-1 of Chapter 1 indicates that religious difference does not figure very prominently in the ethnicity and nationalism literature as a defining marker of ethnicity. Evidence from Western Europe supports this contention: Of the fifteen “national minorities” in France, Spain, and the United Kingdom, only two are religiously distinct from the “national” religion.94 Yet religion clearly plays a critical

94 The Northern Irish Protestants, while tending to be Presbyterian, clearly emphasize their Protestant commonality as part of their association with being British. The Welsh, during the early period of

335 role for the Northern Irish Catholics; furthermore, religious cleavages represent some

of the more intractable divides globally. Therefore, it may be worthwhile to evaluate

the following hypothesis:

HR: Religious distance (bcbelief) is positively related to ethnopolitical mobilization

The MAR dataset includes two measures of religious difference: belief and culdifx4. In both cases the Scots and Northern Irish Catholics are coded the same.

As stated above, this study differentiates between those two groups with the measure bcbelief. Statistics will be provided for belief and bcbelief to evaluate the relative value of each relationship.

Belief generates a V = .2850 and a t = 10.50 (p>|t| = .000), indicating a

significant positive relationship. Bcbelief generates similar, yet slightly weaker, findings: V = .2513 and t = 10.38 (p>|t| = .000). Both indicate the hypothesis holds,

although the slightly diminished significance of the more nuanced measure may

indicate that it is the existence of religious difference rather than the magnitude of

that difference that is critical.

Constructed elements

HCon: Constructed elements of ethnicity are positively related to bcpolmob

This study generates five factors representing constructed ethnic elements:

bcflag (flag), bcholiday (holiday), bcanthem (anthem), bclitren (literary

renaissance), and bclangstand (language standardization), as discussed above. For

each of these variables the hypothesis is the same: There is a positive relationship

between the implementation/adoption of the artifact and ethnopolitical mobilization.

ethnopolitical mobilization, emphasized their Nonconformity as an element differentiating them from

336 Each of these symbols is reasonably linked with differentiating the ethnic identity

from the larger national one. The findings are summarized below:

Table A-2: Testing constructed elements of ethnicity V t adj. r2 bcflag .3703 8.04 .0734 bcanthem .5050 14.04 .1963 bcholiday .6404 19.69 .3911 bclitren .7525 35.05 .4660 bclangstand .4042 14.74 .1521

In each case the relationships are positive and significant. In fact, the

relationships are so strong that some degree of caution must be exercised; at a

minimum some degree of collinearity is to be expected. However, these findings do

suggest that constructed aspects of ethnic identity are important with regards to

ethnopolitical mobilization; as such, they should be carefully considered.

While the exploration of the significance of various ethnic markers on

ethnopolitical mobilization is enlightening on its own, for the purposes of this study

the more central issue is whether certain aspects of ethnicity stand definitively on

their own as facilitators of ethnopolitical mobilization, or is there flexibility with

regards to which elements matter, the concern being the aggregate magnitude of

group difference? The summary statistic bcdiffactx, which incorporates the

measures lang, bcbelief, bcflag, bcanthem, bcholiday, bclitren, and bclangstand,

generates the following results: G = .4875 and t = 19.56 (p>|t| = .000) with an

adjusted r2 = .2135. This shows, as expected, that the summary statistic is quite robust in its effects on ethnopolitical mobilization although, again, collinearity is suspected. This may indicate that groups can override relatively insignificant indicators of difference with other more significant ones. As a result, the attempt to

the English. See below for a more detailed account of these cases.

337 establish a priori facets of ethnicity as necessary conditions for ethnopolitical

mobilization may be misguided; each group must be considered with regards to its

particular distinctiveness from the national identity.

H3: Differential fact is more significant than relative group size with regards to ethnopolitical mobilization

A final question to be addressed in this first cut of group-level factors is the

relationship between group size and differential fact on ethnopolitical mobilization.

As shown above, differential fact is a strong predictor of ethnopolitical mobilization; reasonably, group size should also be: larger ethnic groups should be able to mobilize

more easily than small groups. Testing for group size (gpro)95 confirms this

hypothesis: t = 6.05 (p>|t| = .000; adj. r2 = 0247).

Extending the analysis further, however, raises an important question.

Presumably large, distinct groups should mobilize more easily than small, relatively indistinct groups. However, does one factor carry more weight? Or, to put it another way, will small, distinct groups mobilize more easily or less easily than large, relatively indistinct groups? A simple regression of both bcdiffactx and gpro finds that while differential fact remains quite significant (t = 18.57), relative size is much less so (t = 2.49; p>|t| = .013). This suggests that while group size does impact ethnopolitical mobilization, its relative weight is much less than differential fact.

95 Relative group size is held constant over time. While clearly introducing error into the analysis, two caveats are necessary. First, relative group size is frequently held constant over time, as it does not tend to vary significantly. Second, there are considerable errors built in to any measure of ethnic group size: a lack of clear census data in states discouraging ethnic identification; questions as to who should be included in these counts (residents of a given area, speakers of the language); and variations in self- identification due to a variety of factors. Given that any measure of subnational group size is therefore suspect, the small degree of additional error introduced by holding the measures constant is likely acceptable.

338