Blood Ties

Front matter

; AND THE PoLiríts OF Mau — ' IN OTTOMAN MACEDONIA,

"m IB78- M </ sji y i L

BLOOD TIES

Conclusion

Bibliography Index xii

295 311 vii

Acknowledgments

During the writing of this book I have accrued a large debt of gratitude to colleagues, mentors, friends, family members, and various institutions that generously funded my project. I apologize in advance for any omissions I may commit in acknowledging them here.

First, I thank the many scholars whose previous work on Macedonia made mine possible, and apologize to those whom I was not able to cite directly in this book. I regret that Keith Brown’s excellent work on the Macedonian revolutionaries, Loyal unto Death (Indiana, 2013) came to my attention after this book was already in production, which prevented me from directly engaging with it here. I thank him for sharing his work with me before publication.

I wish to acknowledge the American Research Institute in Turkey and the National Endowment for the Humanities for the postdoctoral fellowship that allowed me to start the research project that resulted in this book; the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton and the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation for the year of leave during which I completed the writing process; and the Graduate School at University of Wisconsin—Madison for the summer research grants they provided. At Northwestern University I acknowledge the Buffett Center for International Studies for the funds they provided for research in Turkey; the Alice Kaplan Institute for the Humanities for funding a quarter of leave for manuscript revision; the Dean's Office for their assistance with the production of this book; and the History Department for their ongoing support.

I thank the staff of the Bagbakanlik Archives in Istanbul, Turkey; the Archives du Ministére des Affaires Etrangéres in Nantes, France; the Bibliothéque Nationale de France in Paris, France; the Gennadius Library of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, Greece, especially Robert Bridges and Charis Kalliga; Despina Syrri, Basil Gounaris, Iakovos Michailidis and Vlasis Vlasidis at the Museum of the Macedonian Struggle in Thessaloniki, Greece; AnnaLee Pauls at the Manuscript and Rare Books collection of Firestone Library, Princeton; and Patricia Crone, Avishai Margalit, Julia Bernheim, Maria Mercedes Tuya, and Marian Zelazny at the Institute for Advanced Study, School of Historical Studies. Many thanks also go to Edhem Eldem, who shared images from his own collection, and to the staff at the Thessaloniki Museum of Photography, who reproduced images from ix x > Acknowledgments the Leonidas Papazoglou collection. I am grateful to Christos Golobias for granting me permission to use these striking images in the book.

I was fortunate to pursue and complete my graduate studies at Princeton University’s Department of Near Eastern Studies, which provided me not only with generous financial support but allowed me to become part of an exceptional scholarly community. I learned about the late Ottoman Empire from the very best: Sükrü Hanioglu, who patiently guided me through my continuously morphing dissertation project, and continued to mentor me as I was trying to establish my early academic career. I cannot say enough thanks to Peter Brown for taking the time to get involved in my project and encouraging me to find my own voice. During the year he was at Princeton, Rifa'at Abou-El-Haj singlehandedly challenged and changed the way a generation of students thinks about Ottoman history — and I was lucky enough to be one of them. Thanks to Norman Itzkowitz and Heath W. Lowry, I can pretend to know a few things about the Ottomans before the nineteenth century. The semester I spent with my peers in a seminar room with Hanioglu, Abou-El-Haj, Itzkowitz, and Lowry is an indelible memory, and also the reason I ended up as a historian rather than reverting to my earlier career plan of economics— not a good decision perhaps, for pecuniary considerations, but one that I have yet to regret. The Program in Hellenic Studies at Princeton was an immense intellectual and social resource, all thanks to its director, Dimitri Gondicas. I am grateful to him above all for asking me the question “Have you considered Greek?” and following up on it.

Heartfelt thanks go to my circle of friends (and family) at Princeton for the exceptional conviviality and the intellectual enrichment they provided: to Suhnaz Yilmaz, Baki Tezcan, Janet Klein, Mustafa Aksakal, Christine Philliou, Milen Petrov, Jocelyn Sharlet, Jessica Tiregol, Michael Reynolds, Orit Bashkin, Berrak Burgak, Rebecca Graves, Ahmet Bayazitoglu, Adam Becker, Arang Keshavarzian, Peter Turner, Leyla Aker, George Gavrilis, Hongyung Anna Suh, Arindam Dutta, Marton Dornbach, and the late Sakura Handa. I am forever indebted to Cole Crittenden for supporting me through every tough spot I encountered with good humor, and to Leo Coleman for helping me survive various moves across the country, and for the stimulating conversations, some of which found their way into this book.

I thank Nur Bilge Criss for tirelessly being my mentor, role model, virtual mother, critic, and friend for most of my grown-up life; Kerem Oktem for years of intellectual engagement and unwavering friendship; Dimitris Antoniou for his ideas and the parea; Margarita Poutouridou for her Pontic spirit of solidarity; Nikolas Lakiotakis and René Poutou for making research in France something to look forward to; Sibel Zandi Sayek and Ali Yaycioglu for the exquisite camaraderie and intellectual stimulation that started at Cambridge, and has kept up since; and Jessica Winegar and Hamdi Attia for making Evanston feel like home. Special thanks to Rita Koryan and Kaya

Acknowledgments > xi

Sahin for sharing the most stressful and joyful moments of my life in the past few years.

I would like to acknowledge the support of my colleagues and mentors at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, especially David McDonald, Francine Hirsch, Robert Kaiser, Michael Chamberlain, and David Morgan, who read and commented on earlier versions of the manuscript, and also made Madison a most welcoming place.

I have presented sections of the book at various workshops and seminars and benefited from the insights of the commentators, especially those of Peter Holquist, Ryan Gingeras, and Dimitar Bechev. I am indebted to Fatma Müge Göçek and Ronald Grigor Suny for taking the time to participate in a manuscript workshop at Northwestern and giving me invaluable feedback and advice. John Bushnell has read more versions of this book than anyone else and provided extensive comments each time, for which I am truly grateful.

Parts of chapters 5 and 4 have been published earlier and are published here with permission from the University of Georgia Press and Cambridge University Press: *Constructing National Identity in Ottoman Macedonia," in Understanding Life in the Borderlands, edited by William Zartman (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2010), 160-88; and *Counting Bodies, Shaping Souls: The *1903 Census" and National Identity in Ottoman Macedonia," International Journal of Middle East Studies 38 (2006), 55-77.

I appreciate the collegial environment Northwestern University's History Department has provided since my arrival here in 2010. I would like to acknowledge the support and friendship I have received from my colleagues, especially Ben Frommer, Peter Carroll, Carl Petry, Amy Stanley, Scott Sowerby, and Regina Grafe. I am grateful to Peter Hayes for going beyond the call of duty in finding extra resources toward the completion of this project.

I am indebted to John Ackerman and the editorial staff at Cornell University Press who produced this book. Their integrity and professionalism have made what could have been a stressful process run as smoothly and pleasantly as possible.

Writing this book has been a long journey that started when I came to the United States for my graduate work. My only regret is the long distance this has put between my family and me. I am grateful to them — Muammer and Mehper Zeynep Yosmaoglu, Reyyan, Hakan, and Nazlı Hacievliyagil, and Cahit Koca6mer— for their understanding, unconditional support, and love. Finally, I would like to thank my husband, Joshua L. Cox. I could not have seen through this project without his patient support and love. This book is dedicated to him.

Note on Transliteration

Selanik/Thessaloniki/Solun/Salonika/Salonica/Saloniki. These are just a few versions of the name of the largest city in Ottoman Macedonia, and it was hard to choose one that would be used consistently throughout the book (I opted for Salonika in the end). I hope the reader will understand the “hybrid” method I have used for place names based on this example. For large cities such as Salonika and Monastir I have used the version most common in contemporary English transliteration. For smaller towns I have tried to use the Ottoman version, transliterated in modern Turkish, followed by the contemporary name in parentheses the first time it is mentioned (e.g., Demirhisar (Sidirokastro)). Given the subject matter of the book, a large number of small villages are mentioned, especially in the last three chapters, and these were the most challenging: again, I tried to provide the Ottoman Turkish version (which could vary depending on transliteration) followed by alternative spellings and the current name of the locale in parenthesis (e.g., Gracen/Gratsiani (Agiohori)). I hope this will make it easier to identify the exact locations of these villages. I have used modern Turkish spelling for Ottoman Turkish transliteration, and the Library of Congress style for Greek. For the sake of convenience, all dates have been converted into the Gregorian calendar.

xiii

BLOOD TIES

Introduction

Macedonia is the most frightful mix of races ever imagined. Turks, Albanians, Greeks and Bulgarians live there side by side without mingling—and have lived so since the days of St. Paul.

—John Reed, The War in Eastern Europe, 1916 rom the Congress of Berlin to the outbreak of the Balkan Wars,

a potent combination of zero-sum imperialism, irredentist na-

tionalism, and modernizing states transformed southeast Europe into a violent conflict zone. As empires collapsed and the boundaries of nation-states were drawn, first on paper and then through the land, a long period of suffering started for the people inhabiting an area stretching from Eastern Europe though the Black Sea littoral and Asia Minor into the Fertile Crescent; they were caught in the riptide of geopolitics, and worse was yet to come. The demarcation lines drawn on paper cut through not only topographical markers but also ordinary people’s lives, which no longer were that ordinary. Communal solidarities broke down, time and space were rationalized, the fluidity of vernaculars was replaced by the rigid rules of literary languages, and the immutable form of the nation and the boundaries of the nation-state replaced the polyglot associations and ways of life that had formerly characterized people’s connections with those beyond their immediate kin or community.

The residents of the Ottoman Balkans, including Macedonia, were not entirely unfamiliar with coercive violence, lawlessness, and depredations. All were occasionally visited on them by a variety of bandits and state agents— who sometimes were one and the same. The violence that sprang up in the nineteenth century and escalated to the point of all-out war at the turn of the twentieth century, however, was qualitatively different: it was systemic, was pervasive, and pitted one community against another, whether the members of those communities desired to be active participants in this struggle or not. Back then it was called a “war of races.” Today it is called “ethnic conflict.” The principal question I raise in this book is how a region inhabited by a population that had not experienced any sustained, systemic, or high level of intercommunity violence until the turn of the twentieth century turned into one synonymous with ethnic conflict.

The association of the name Macedonia with ethnic conflict has a long history. Writing during World War I, John Reed described it as *the most frightening mix of races ever imagined," ! and he was not the first to have said so. In 1925, A. Pallis called the situation *chronic racial warfare" caused by “the inextricable mixture of Greeks, Bulgars, Turks, and others."? It is true that Macedonia was home to an unusual diversity of *races," even by the standards of the notoriously mixed Ottoman Empire, and it is also true that it was a frightening place by the time of Reed's visit; it was definitely a zone of violence. Reed and Pallis, like many at the time and since, assumed wrongly that the *fear" was an outcome of this presumably anomalous *mixture of races." The violence that accompanied the unmixing of the same people should have taught them otherwise. The *racial" violence in Macedonia was not the natural outcome of (presumably) mutually hostile groups of people living in close proximity to one another; it was, instead, the combined result of three factors: adoption by the elites of the neighboring Balkan states of an exclusionary nation-state model as the only path to modernization and prosperity; the determined refusal of Ottoman statesmen to accept any political reorganization, such as autonomy, that might result in their loss of these territories; and the reckless pursuit by the Great Powers of a policy that would preserve the European balance of power until, obviously, they could not. The bizarre mingling of several languages, dialects, religions, and sects in an area roughly the size of Maryland was secondary to this tension and became a pretext for violence only after the scramble for territory had already started.

Macedonia was hardly unique in its ethnic, linguistic, and religious makeup; heterogeneity was the rule, not the exception, in imperial territories ruled by the Habsburg or the Romanov dynasties such as Transylvania, Moravia, Bohemia, Galicia, and the Caucuses. Although the path to national consolidation differed in each of these territories, the goals were the same and in each case involved violent social upheavals and transformative population movements. The transition from empire to nation-state created citizens out of subjects even as it transformed some populations into minorities in their former homelands, who were then forced to leave in campaigns of deportation and emigration, cynically called repatriation.

In the words of Ernest Gellner, nationalism is *the general imposition of a high culture on society, where previously low cultures had taken up the lives of the majority, and in some cases of the totality, of the population."? Although his theory has helped to shape the debate about nations and nationalism for the last four decades, it has also been subjected to a good

1. John Reed, The War in Eastern Europe, 1916.

2. A. Pallis, “Racial Migrations in the Balkans during the years 1912-1924,” Geographical Journal 66, no. 4 (1925), 316.

3. Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism (Ithaca, 1983), 57.

deal of criticism.* Like all such theoretical approaches to nationalism, Gellner’s presents a universal framework to explain an ideology that has adapted and replicated itself in different guises with the resilience of tuberculosis bacteria.? The success of nationalism in contexts where the connection between elites and agro-literate masses was tenuous at best and nonexistent at worst is particularly difficult to explain. To speak of imposition from above is to suggest strict limits on the agency of the very masses whose collaboration was necessary for the completion of the elites’ nationalist agendas. Yet it is hard to deny the universal role played by the elites and the high culture they represented—even as they embraced a romantic notion of the volk as the essence of the nation—in initiating the process that culminated in the foundation of nation-states. The nationalist movements in the Ottoman Empire were no exception to this pattern.

But how did the masses connect with the elites if they did not already share similar values and aspirations? To answer this question, I explain in this book the transition to nationhood not through a textual analysis of the record left behind by national visionaries but through the experience of the common folk. I trace the paths to nationhood “in terms of the assumptions, hopes, needs, longings and interests of ordinary people, which are not necessarily national and still less nationalist,” as Eric Hobsbawm urges. This is not to deny the importance of works that have analyzed the course of nationalism in the Balkans based on the written work, activities, and testimony of national leaders, intellectuals, and elites." Rather, I build here on that framework to understand the dynamics of nation-making that depended on the diffusion among the peasant masses of what was essentially an elite ideology.

This book therefore has two axes: one follows the agendas and actions of state and nonstate political actors with competing visions for the region, and the other traces the experiences of the people who continued to make a living in the territory staked out between these competitors. At the center of my argument are the ways in which difference— religious, sectarian,

4. For a comprehensive evaluation and critique of Gellner's theory of nationalism, see the collection of essays in John Hall, ed., The State of the Nation: Ernest Gellner and the Theory of Nationalism (Cambridge, 1998). For an emphatic defense, see David McCrone, The Sociology of Nationalism (New York, 1998), 64-84.

5. The exceptional adaptability of nationalism can be explained more easily if it is treated “as if it belonged with ‘kinship’ and ‘religion,’” as Benedict Anderson suggests, rather than as ideology. Imagined Communities (London, 1991), 5.

6. Eric J. Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since 1780: Programme, Myth, Reality (Cambridge, 1990), 10.

7. Historiography is particularly rich in this regard for the Greek case; see, among many others, Paschalis Kitromilides, The Enlightenment as Social Criticism: Iosipos Moisiodax and Greek Culture in the Eighteenth Century (Princeton, 1992); Stathis Gourgouris, Dream Nation (Stanford, 1996); Peter Mackridge, Language and National Identity in Greece, 1766-1976 (Oxford, 2009).

linguistic—was constructed and compounded.? While acknowledging the roles played by literary elites and competing educational establishments, I do not consider these the factors that dismantled the “complex structure of local groups” (pace Gellner). In Ottoman Macedonia, elites and the peasants were brought together through the reappropriation of existing markers of collectivity, such as religion, and through the politicization of those reworked differences through violence.

Nationhood, Nationalism and Eastern Backwardness

As the Cold War came to an end and communism seemed to collapse like a house of cards, nationalism experienced a resurgence that proved how powerful it still was. It became “the hegemonic discourse of sovereignty and the unavoidable language of those who want to play the game of statehood."? Decades later, the nation-state, far from withering after an interlude of vitality, has proved extremely well suited to the globalizing world capitalist system, which presumably thrives on transnationalism rather than nationalism. Because the nation-state retains its robust presence, it is all the more difficult to avoid a teleological bias when analyzing the emergence of nationhood, regardless of the context and period. Therefore, it is important, first, to separate nationalism from nationhood: the former is a basis of political legitimacy, whereas the latter is a basis for collective identity. We might assume that nationalism follows naturally from nations, collectivities mobilized for attaining the ultimate goal of nationalism, namely statehood, or, as Gellner put it, “the congruence of the boundaries of state with those of the nation." !? The case studies detailed in this book demonstrate a different trajectory, however, outlining the historical process by which the category “nation” came to complete the ideology of nationalism.!! I consider the category *nation" primarily as an interest group and nationalism as a mobilizing ideology that creates nations where they did not exist before.!* I engage with the micro rather

8. See Fredrik Barth, ed., Ethnic Groups and Boundaries: The Social Organization of Cultural Difference (London, 1969). Barth's amended model resonates better with studies on ethnicity outside the field of anthropology; see Fredrik Barth, “Enduring and Emerging Issues in the Analysis of Ethnicity,” in The Anthropology of Ethnicity: Beyond Ethnic Groups and Boundaries, edited by Hans Vermeulen and Cora Govers (Amsterdam, 1994), 11-32.

9. Ronald Grigor Suny, The Revenge of the Past: Nationalism, Revolution, and the Collapse of the Soviet Union (Stanford, 1993) 14.

to. Gellner, Nations and Nationalism, 1.

ir. Some have even argued in favor of entirely doing away with “nation” as an analytical category; see Valery A. Tishkov, “Forget the ‘Nation’: Post-Nationalist Understanding of Nationalism,” Ethnic and Racial Studies 23 (2000), 625.

12. The Gellnerian tone of this statement is obvious; however, by locating the roots of nationhood in the process of mobilization, I veer from a strictly Gellnerian framework. In fact, the definitions here owe much to Barry Barnes’s theory of interest groups, which posits that an than the macro level of the transition to nationness and, therefore, focus more on the process of nationalist mobilization than on its putative inspiration. To speak about the emergence of nationhood as a process is to place oneself firmly within the modernist camp of the scholarship on nationalism. 1 I do not, however, subscribe to a strictly modernist reading of nationhood, not least because the usual trappings of modernity did not reach the majority of the people whose lives were nevertheless being claimed by fighters for the national cause. I do acknowledge the roots of nationalist mobilization in earlier markers of belonging, especially in religious belonging. After all, even Gellner followed his famous declaration that “nationalism is not the awakening of nations to self consciousness” with the acknowledgment that it “does need some pre-existing differentiating marks to work on, even if ... these are purely negative."!^ I frame the central question about the emergence of nationhood in the following manner: How does a transition to nationhood occur in the absence of the commonly accepted prerequisites for that process such as public education, universal conscription, industrialization, and the spread of print culture?

The answer developed in this book is that the early subscribers of nationalism in Ottoman Macedonia — including members of the nascent bourgeoisies, state elites, the men and women of letters, and young political activists — understood well the need to recast it in a new and overtly religious language. Nationalism and mass political participation went hand in hand to redefine the basis of political legitimacy in the nineteenth century. If the same trend were to have any shot at prevailing in the Ottoman Balkans, it was exigent to make it accessible to the only demographic contingent that had the potential to carry it to the mainstream— the peasantry. The operative realm of religion was the most effective medium through which the gospel of nationalism could be preached to a skeptical audience, and the ultimate catalyst in the process that would render freefloating allegiances hard and fixed was political violence. In other words, violence was not a by-product of but a real force in the genesis of nation-ness. Having spelled out violence and religion as the two major factors in the popularization of nationhood in Ottoman Macedonia, I find it necessary to briefly address the possibility that the arguments of this book will be associated with two of the famous canards attributed to Balkan history and historiography. The first of these is the notion, peddled especially by western media outlets during the breakup of Yugoslavia, that nationalism in the Balkans interest group is constituted by the very process of its mobilization; Barry Barnes, The Elements of Social Theory (Princeton, 1995).

I3. Theories on the origins of nationhood are aplenty, and they do not fall into neat clusters. However, it is fair to say that the most visible demarcation line is between modernists and primordialists. Elie Kedouri's Nationalism (London, 1960) was a milestone in the establishment of what later would be called the modernist paradigm or, alternatively, modernist orthodoxy by its critics.

14. Ernest Gellner, Thought and Change (London, 1964), 168.

is, and has always been, atavistic and innately violent. The second is the primordialist conception of religion as the vault where nations preserved their core values through centuries of subordination under the Ottomans.

This book directly challenges these two stereotypes, which have long burdened the study of the Balkans. Fortunately it does not stand alone; since 1993, when Michael Ignatieff associated the term ethnic hatred with former Yugoslavia and Robert Kaplan introduced “ghosts” that apparently haunted the same country, scholarship on the Balkans has come a long way toward shedding the weight of such ahistorical notions as “national awakenings" and “ancient hatreds."!? The Ottoman period has become better integrated into historiography in the Balkans as professional historians have distanced themselves from the official establishment narratives of national history and revisionism has become more common.!6 Unfortunately, the attraction of facile classifications and Manichean divisions block the effect of scholarly writings that might trickle their way into works of general readership. At the same time, despite modest gains, the resistance of education ministries in the Balkans to revisions in history textbooks means that students are indoctrinated in the same narratives of national liberation and are conditioned to think of history as National History.!” Rogers Brubaker calls primordialism a *long-dead horse that writers on ethnicity and nationalism continue to flog."!? In the realm of banal nationalism, however, the horse seems to be in rude health and still kicking.!?

Historiographically, this book is part of a growing literature that seeks to normalize Ottoman and southeast European history. It shows that the transition to nationhood as experienced in Ottoman Macedonia was not an aberration to the purportedly serene progress of civic values enjoyed elsewhere. It contends that ethnic nationalism, commonly used to refer to Balkan nationalist movements, including those that precipitated the fall of the Ottoman Empire, is an analytically redundant categorization because violence, symbolic or physical, is the midwife of nation-ness, even in its rs. Michael Ignatieff, Blood and Belonging (New York, 1993); Robert D. Kaplan: Balkan Ghosts: A Journey through History (New York, 1993). For a corrective, see Mark Mazower, The Balkans: A Short History (New York, 2002).

16. Yet the gains have so far been modest and uneven across countries in southeast Europe; for a review, see Ulf Brunnbauer, ed., (Re) Writing History: Historiography in Southeast Europe after Socialism (Minster, 2004).

17. For an evaluation of the records of the individual Balkan countries on this issue, see Christina Koulouri, ed., Clio in the Balkans: The Politics of History Education (Thessaloniki, 2002).

18. Rogers Brubaker, Nationalism Reframed: Nationhood and the National Question in the New Europe (Cambridge, 1996), 15.

19. Michael Billig, Banal Nationalism (London, 1995). As Ronald G. Suny argues, “there is a selective affinity between nation, essentialism, and primordialism.” “Constructing Primordialism: Old Histories for New Nations,” Journal of Modern History 73, no. 4 (2001), 892. Despite what historians and theoreticians of nationalism have been writing for decades, primordialism, it seems, is here to stay.

“civic” version.?? The ethnic versus civic distinction, originally developed by Hans Kohn and further elaborated by John Plamenatz, has served primarily as a typology that distinguishes nationalism in its “eastern” versus “western” versions.*! Political scientists and historians alike have widely adopted this categorization, primarily to explain the volatility of late-comer (read: eastern) nationalisms as opposed to the stability enjoyed through the “daily plebiscite” of earlier nations.” More recently, the civic versus ethnic division was implicit in the liberal defense of nationalism because it allowed the easy attribution of the destructive, oppressive manifestations of bigotry and xenophobia around the globe to the “dark gods” of nationalism and the prosperity of western democracies, presumably, to its better angels.?? Nationalism, according to this scheme, is a benign, even progressive ideology and the best foundation we have for political modernization and social equality; yet it can go haywire in certain “cultural” contexts. Notable exceptions notwithstanding, scholars usually see the Balkans as exhibiting this cultural proclivity to ethnic violence.?^

There are quite a few problems with this approach. To begin with, considering the semantic proximity of and the highly elastic conceptual distinctions theorists have drawn between the categories “ethnie” and “nation,” pitting the term ethnic against civic to qualify different forms of nationalism serves only to bolster the assumption that ethnic nationalism is deviant from the norm, unique to cultures that have been late in making the leap from ethnie to nation.2? The categories “ethnie” and “nation” are different

20. On the analytical shortcomings of the civic versus ethnic nationalism distinction, see Brubaker, “The Manichean Myth: Rethinking the Distinction between ‘Civic’ and ‘Ethnic’ Nationalism,” in Nation and National Identity: The European Experience in Perspective, edited by Hanspeter Kriesi, Klaus Armingeon, and Hannes Siegrist (Zürich, 1999), 55-71. Brubaker proposes that a “less ambiguous” distinction would be between “state-framed” and “counter-state” understandings of nationalism. The term civic nationalism has also been critiqued as a by-product of the necessary lore-making by the nation-state to obfuscate the origins of its historical evolution. For a discussion, see Bernard Yack, “The Myth of the Civic Nation,” Critical Review 10, no. 2 (1996): 193-211; Nicholas Xenos, “Civic Nationalism: An Oxymoron?” Critical Review ro, no. 2 (1996): 213-31.

21. Hans Kohn, A History of Nationalism in the East (New York, 1929); Hans Kohn, The Idea of Nationalism: A Study in Its Origins and Background (New York, 1944); John Plamenatz, “Two Types of Nationalism,” in Nationalism: The Nature and Evolution of an Idea, edited by Eugene Kamenka (London, 1976), 23-36.

22. See, for instance, Aviel Roshwald, Ethnic Nationalism and the Fall of Empires: Central Europe, Russia & the Middle East, 1914-1923 (London, 2001). Gellner also subscribes to this distinction, which he finds consistent with his time zones model of nationalism in Europe; Nations and Nationalism, 97-101.

23. Fora sophisticated defense of liberal nationalism, see Craig Calhoun, Nations Matter: Culture, History, and the Cosmopolitan Dream (New York, 2007).

24. Roshwald, Ethnic Nationalism, 6. Valére P. Gagnon takes exception to Balkan exceptionalism and the presumed link between ethnic difference and violence in The Myth of Ethnic War: Serbia and Croatia in the 1990s (Ithaca, 2004).

25. The state, or state-seeking, occupies a great place in discussions concerning the differences between an ethnie and a nation. According to Craig Calhoun, for instance, “a crucial difference between ethnicities and nations is that the latter are envisioned as intrinsically yet cognate concepts, and they are similarly contingent and process-dependent. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, ethnographers described them as objectively distinct entities along an evolutionary or ideological spectrum. The designation ethnic nationalism, in seeking an analytical distinction between these two categories, duplicates the same assumptions that nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century ethnographers made (if with the best of intentions) while categorizing social groups.