The term nationalism, in its broader sense, refers to either an “attitude that the members of a nation have when they care about their national identity or the actions that the members of a nation take when seeking to achieve self-determination” (Miscevic 2018). In another sense, nationalism is “a set of beliefs and practices that link together the people of a nation and its territory” (Schiller and Fouron 2001, 17–18). It is, in Peter Wien’s terms, “a cultural reference system that creates belonging” (2017, 2). This system is referred to in a “diasporic” context as “diaspora nationalism” (Landau 2001). This sort of nationalism from afar is primarily identified as long-distance nationalism. It mainly concerns diasporans and is a key feature of many diasporic identities, as Schiller (2005) argues. This type of nationalism is multidimensional and part of the process of reconnection with the homeland, reflecting a transnational agenda. It was first coined by the historian and anthropologist Benedict Anderson (1994, 1998): according to him, long-distance nationalism is a form of transnational activity and identity that concerns migrants and exiles. It is a practice and an ideology that sets up a bond between those who migrated and those who stayed behind in the homeland and shared cultural and national ties. In other words, in Schiller and Fouron’s terms, this type of nationalism “binds together immigrants, their descendants, and those who have remained in their homeland into a single transborder citizenry” (2001, 20).
The notion of long-distance nationalism, to a large extent, concerns the Arab American community, whose members engage with nationalist ideologies and practices to maintain a bond with the Arab nation in other geographical parts of the world, including their homelands. This ethnic minority also forms what is known as “ethnonationalism”. It refers to “a form of organizing around perceived similarities of culture, religion or ethnicity” (Salaita 2011, 45). This means that the Arab nationalist vision in the USA establishes a connection with both local ethnic members and those settled abroad, given that they share an Arab identity. Steven Salaita, however, in his critique of Rabih Alameddine’s
Arab nationalism in the US diaspora, borrowing Schiller’s words, denotes a perspective that “there is a nation that consists of a people who share a common history, identity, and territory” (Schiller 2005, 571). It should be acknowledged, in this context, that long-distance nationalism has received little attention in diaspora literary studies, especially in contemporary Arab American fiction. It has primarily been tackled in sociology and political sciences. The value of studying long-distance nationalism in literary texts, particularly fiction, will broaden the horizons in defining this term and help to understand its various interpretations. Exploring this type of nationalism is as important in literature as in sociology and political sciences.
Diana Abu-Jaber introduces us to the factors that construct nationalism in the diaspora, reflecting on the Arab American community as narrated in her novel
The novel
Abu-Jaber projects her long-distance Arab nationalistic beliefs in the novel by critiquing US imperial ambitions in the Arab world and narrating a rejection of US policy in the Middle East, particularly Iraq. She presents her novel as a political project. This shows that “long-distance nationalism has fostered diasporas’ active engagement in oppositional politics” (Um 2019, 329). Politics, especially those that concern the Middle East, is the main subject discussed in the Café. Politics bothers Um-Nadia because it is frequently and enthusiastically discussed: “why does it always have to be politics and fighting with you people!” (2003, 222). It is worth trying to understand why Um-Nadia in this scene is turned off by these political discussions. One major explanation is that such conversations are triggered daily, constantly, and frequently. They become a verbal routine in the Café. Being bothered, however, does not mean that Um-Nadia is not interested in politics – she always makes sure to bring in Arabic journals of politics and tune the television into Arabic channels to be updated on the latest events in the Arab world, particularly the Middle East, including her country of origin Lebanon, which witnessed a political turmoil in the 1990s.
Abu-Jaber suggests that there is a strong transnational connection between the members of the Arab American community and the Arab nation abroad. The rise and spread of Arab nationalism in the mid-20th century entailed political engagements both in Arab countries and in the diaspora, as Fadda-Conrey argues:
The rising Arab nationalisms of the 1950s and 1960s, as well as the increasing imperial ambitions of the US in the Arab world during the second half of the twentieth century onward, galvanized stronger transnational political attachments to the Arab world among Arab-American communities across the US. As a result, new trans-Arab solidarities were formed (both within the US and between the US-based Arab diaspora and the Arab world) that were driven by particular political and Arab nationalist concerns while still being firmly grounded in the US geopolitical terrain
Indeed, Nine full years after the war – it’s the total destruction of Iraq’s economy and people...targeting women and children...the American embargoes... biological weapons, rocket launchers, nerve gas [...] American Muslims must do everything they can to show support for their Iraqi brothers and sisters. We can demonstrate, write to Congress
Rana’s nationalistic intervention appeals to the audience to collectively detest the American political and military actions in the Gulf countries, particularly in Iraq and its capital Baghdad, which is perceived by her as “the mother of the whole Arab world” (2003: 187). Rana’s stance, while being a member of the Arab American community, suggests that “diasporas are resolutely multilocal and polycentric, in that what happens to kin communities in other areas of dispersions as well as in the homeland insistently matters to them” (Tololyan 2007, 651). These types of diasporans, in Schiller’s terms, “may be or become long distance nationalists and take actions to obtain, defend, or support political action in a specific territory that they designate as home” (2005, 571). Rana’s intervention, however, gets an oppositional view from another Arab woman named Suha. The latter dislikes Rana’s Arab nationalistic appeal and claims that it does nothing except raising more disturbing political debates. She, in addition, situates herself to project her Americanness and align herself with the American mainstream. In other words, Suha generates – by her response – an American nationalism that clashes with Rana’s. Suha says: “I don’t even know why you expect us to know about all these political things [...] We just want to be Americans like everyone else [...] My brothers and sisters are in Orange County It is a county located in the Los Angeles metropolitan area in the state of California, USA.
Equally relevant, in a gathering of some Arab American characters of different national backgrounds for a Thanksgiving celebration, political detestation of American military intervention and policy in Iraq becomes intense. This appears “when Schmaal brings up the U.N. and nuclear weapons inspections, and Gharb talks about the starvation in Iraq and crime and prostitution, and Nathan says that Iraq is suffering pre-famine conditions and is still being bombed regularly by America, who was recently selling them helicopters, and does anyone care” (2003, 221). This conversation denotes what Schiller calls an “anti-colonial” long-distance nationalist stance (2005, 574). This stance results in strengthening the connection between Arab Americans and the Arab world, generating transnational vision. Fadda-Conrey, in this context, states that “the US military operations and foreign policies in the Arab world play a direct role in molding a strong transnational consciousness among Arab-Americans” (2014, 8). In other words, a transnational outlook becomes another facet that characterizes the notion of long-distance nationalism, cementing a need to revive a strong attachment to Arab homelands and unity with Arab nations.
By the same token, Abu-Jaber showcases such an anticolonial agenda not only through the Arab characters in the diaspora but through non-Arabs too. In a lecture at the Department of Near Eastern Studies, an unidentified man – who seems as a humanitarian activist – leads a discussion to voice his disapproval of American foreign policy and warn of its negative ramifications:
Now, according to UNICEF, fifty thousand Iraqi adults die because of U.S. sanctions every year, and five thousand children die in Iraq every month because of the American embargo of food and medicine. The sanctions deny people access to basic health care, clean water, and electricity – they are a systematic violation of the Geneva Convention, which prohibits the starvation of civilians as a method of warfare [...] America simply cannot continue to pillage the natural resources and economies of other countries, to heap its desire and values, its contempt and greed on the backs of others, and not expect there to be consequences
The narrator describes the speaker’s voice as dull and pleasant, especially for Sirine, who approaches the room to see if Han is inside. Such a description of his voice as dull is probably because it conveys the atrocities, and resultant suffering, in recent Iraqi history, and pleasant, due to the way it affects the audience, triggering compassion, sympathy, and emotions. Moreover, it is noteworthy that Abu-Jaber does reproduce a lot of this lecture for the reader. Even after Sirine and Han have left the scene, Sirine, in this scene, seems to lack interest in the speaker’s lecture, simply because her attention is on Han, whom she wants to walk with and be with. Sirine, the central character, showing no interest in politics may denote that her romantic affair has priority over the political aspirations in the narrative. This posits more questions about the extent to which her Arab national ties are transparent and reliable.
The various political aspirations as echoed in the narrative demonstrate the extent to which Middle Eastern affairs are of great concern to the author, Diana Abu-Jaber, given that the political turmoil in Iraq (1999–2003) accompanied the writing up and production of
This letter is not supposed to be found by anyone. It has been tossed into a drawer in Han’s room. Sirine’s discovery of it comes after her search in Han’s personal belongings to feed her own curiosity and also because “she needs to know more about him, to know if it is safe to feel this way about him” (2003, 175). She realizes that “she has never snooped around a boyfriend’s room like this before and she is amazed at herself” (2003, 175). This shows that the figure of Han to Sirine is not only a lover but a mystery. In her reading of the letter, however, Sirine disregards the dreadful portrayal of Iraq – as told in the above-mentioned passage – and concentrates only on her pursuit to unveil his secrets, especially when the sender of the letter addresses Han as “dear”, which adds more suspicions for Sirine that Han has a mistress back home, in addition to the fear that he might have committed a murder when Sirine reads the following line: “
The representations of Iraq in the letter in this way, nonetheless, serve to support Fadda-Conrey’s statement that the works of Arab American writers from the 1990s to the early years of the 21st century “reflect on experiences of displacement, exile, and dispossession caused by the political shifts and military conflicts across the Arab world [...] Such representations, and the political implications they hold, become key factors in shaping the connective and transnational attachments to an Arab homeland” (2014, 20). In this respect, it seems possible to situate Abu-Jaber within a group of other diasporic Arab American writers who voice their concerns in their writings about the troubled Arab people and the deteriorating economy and political upheavals in the Arab countries, notably, Randa Jarrar, One of her notable works is One of her notable works is One of her notable works is One of her notable works is One of his notable works is
Stereotypes, according to Maria Lebedko, “are ubiquitous and typologically greatly vary social, cultural, national, territorial, political, gender, etc. The most harmful, prejudicial, hazardous and dangerous are racial and ethnic stereotypes” (179, 2014). Abu-Jaber’s resistance to and reconfiguration of stereotypes that characterize the ethnic image of Arabs serve as a critical link to her Arab nationalist paradigm in I had this thought about going over to the Middle East and uncovering terrorist spies [...] And when I finally got there, you know, to the Middle East, I travelled through all these different countries, and this amazing thing happened – the people there were really nice to me. They didn’t drive around in huge cars talking to each other on phones. They invited me right into their homes. We sipped tea and talked all day long [...] I never found my terrorist
The resistance to and correction of stereotypes of Arabs and Arab Americans is indeed a nationalist act. The Arab American literary critic Steven Salaita (2007) attests that part of being a nationalist in the USA is to condemn and reprehend misrepresentations. He says: “I would describe myself to a degree as an Arab American nationalist in the sense that I believe strongly in the positive attributes of my community and detest intensely any foolhardy argument that we are innate terrorists worthy of continual surveillance [...] there is nothing mysterious or dangerous about Arab Americans” (2007, 11). However, Salaita also acknowledges that ethnic nationalism provides a narrow definition of Arab American identity, and it reduces the plurality of Arab American experience by focusing on essentialism: “I do believe that ethnic nationalism should be harnessed carefully before it descends into essentialism” (2007, 11). As such, Salaita states that, beyond the sensibility of stereotypes and misrepresentations, his ethnic nationalism dissolves. In other words, his ethnic nationalism is limited and restricted only to his concern with the blunt and racist “attitudes gaining credence in the United States that conceptualize Arab Americans as a fifth-column mystery to be treated with wariness and suspicion” (2007, 11). Equally important, Salaita positions himself as an Arab American nationalist, projecting two affiliations that determine his identity. He considers himself an Arab national as much as an American national. The question of nationalism in this case intersects with the definition of hybridity. This demonstrates the idea that the politics of nationalism in the diaspora – in the case of Arab Americans – entails complex structures and definitions. Salaita’s point of view of the intersectionality between ethnic nationalism and the subversion of stereotypes in the setting of diaspora, furthermore, is apparent in the novel through Gharb, an Egyptian student, and Sirine’s uncle. The former says: “The Americans need to hear our poetry and stories and this and that sort of stuff” (2003, 222). The latter, rephrasing Um-Nadia’s words, proclaims that “Americans need to know about the big, dark, romantic soul of the Arab” (2003, 222). Both characters in this regard endeavor to humanize the Arabs and provide a positive image of them, generating an ethnic nationalist stance by which to overturn, and also to challenge, the existing misrepresentations in the American popular mainstream.
By the same token, in her introduction to
In addition, the process of challenging the stereotypes of Arabs is further demonstrated through Rana, a liberal Saudi-American woman, who escapes the oppression of her controlling husband in Saudi Arabia and comes to the USA. She breaks the confinements of her past life and then starts to sleep with Aziz to unleash her sexual desire liberally (2003, 316–317). She becomes a woman that Sirine admires because of her fierce mind, strong political stance, and intelligence: “In her presence, Sirine feels as if her own mind is a small, dimly lit place” (2003, 192). Rana’s personality can be regarded as the other part that Sirine’s character lacks in her pursuit to locate herself socially and culturally. The latter is reduced in the former’s presence to suggest that characters in the narrative construct complementary relationships. In other words, a heroine, in the case of Sirine, can sometimes never be complete, but other characters, in the case of Rana, can provide an alternative version of how a heroine should be. The portrayal of Rana in that way, moreover, is an attempt by Abu-Jaber to subvert and correct the stereotypes that circumscribe the veiled Arab Muslim women as the exotic, the passive, and the repressed. This suggests that the veiled woman can also be regarded as a strong feminist, despite certain cultural and religious complexities. Resisting and correcting the negative image of the Arabs – both men and women – seem to be the primary agendas behind the writing of If there’s any social agenda in what I do, that is probably the number one thing: trying to counteract the media portrayals-the terrorist for the Arab man and the oppressed, hidden, exotic Arab woman. I talk about them in terms of diversity and humanity. I think the best way that comes through is by addressing vulnerability
The projection of Arab national identity by resisting and correcting the negative stereotypes of Arabs, whether for humanity or diversity reasons – as explained in Abu-Jaber’s terms, posits a particular solidarity with the Arab nation. By the same token, Abu-Jaber challenges the rise of negative conceptualizations of Arabs as extremist, barbaric, and violent, resulting from the geopolitical landscapes and crises in the Arab world, such as the Iraq–Iran war in the 1980s, the Iraq–Kuwait war in the 1990s, the Arab oil embargo in the 1970s, the Arab–Israeli Wars in 1967, and the Gulf War in the 1990s (Fadda-Conrey 2014, 2). She positions herself to voice her Arab national identity by resisting such conceptualizations on behalf of Arab communities across the borders, particularly in the USA. An example of these communities is the Iraqi. She, for instance, introduces the Arab society in Iraq through Nathan’s overwhelming description, on the basis of the wars that afflicted Iraq, and the role of the US media to vilify the people in Iraq. Nathan says:
The people in Iraq – this sounds dumb and romantic – but the thing is, they really seemed to know who they were. They dressed the way their grandparents dressed, they ate the way they’ve eaten for hundreds of years. And they were so alive – I mean, lot of them didn’t have TV or telephones, but everyone talked about politics, art, religion, you name it. They were living under dictatorship but their inner selves stayed
On the basis of Nathan’s words, it is possible to argue that Abu-Jaber’s implicit Arab national identity in her writings is also expressed from a humanitarian and sympathetic perspective, drawing a line between the very normal spontaneity and the mere reality of Iraqi people and what American popular culture holds of them. In other words, humanism and sympathy comprise much of Abu-Jaber’s Arab national identity, establishing a sense of solidarity.
It is noteworthy to acknowledge that, in addition to Abu-Jaber’s
“Arab nationalism” as a term and concept, in Peter Wien’s opinion, “presents nationalism as an experienceable set of identity markers – in stories, visual culture, narratives of memory, and struggles with ideology, sometimes in culturally sophisticated forms, sometimes in utterly vulgar forms of expression” (2017, I). As such, these identity markers constitute a nationalist paradigm that shapes collective identities and brings community members together. Indeed, the identity markers that project the nationalist stance appear in the setting of the Arab American diaspora, as shown in
In terms of Arabic language, Samir Bitar reminds us that the demonstration of nationalist propensities can include a linguistic form (Bitar 2011). Similarly, Albert Hourani suggests that nationalism derives its power from a practiced common language; it is based on the idea that “all who spoke the same language constituted a single nation and should form one independent political unit” (1993, 341–342). The practice of and conversations in the Arabic language among the Arab American characters in Given that Sirine also endeavors to assimilate into the US mainstream, learning the Arabic language might be seen as a way for Sirine to “better” assimilate into the Arab community too and engage with it. This can be understood as nothing but an extension of Sirine’s hybridity. For more reading about the relationship between hybridity and Arab American characters in fiction, please see, notably, Steven Salaita’s
Interestingly, the grandeur of the Arabic language appears in the narrative through Han’s speech, when he introduces Abdo Aziz, a poet and a visiting writer, at a reading session. Han links Aziz’s complacence to the nature of the Arabic language as the following passage shows:
Abdo transforms Arabic, he understands its deepest, hidden nature, its possibilities, he forces the language, as one might force a spring planting into its richest, most vital profusion and budding. He tends to this deep, powerful language, nudging seedlings to light. To quote the historian Jaroslav Stetkevych on Arabic, “Venus-like, it was born in a perfect state of beauty, and it has preserved that beauty in spite of all the hazards of history.... It has known austerity, holy ecstasy and voluptuousness, boom and decadence. It exuberated in times of splendour and persisted through times of adversity in a state of near-hibernation. But when it awoke again, it was the same language”
Han’s poetry-like introduction fascinates Sirine, who regards him with a romantic gaze and as a figure who reminds her of her father. The narrator tells us that she was “caught up in his rapturous speaking. She has never heard anyone speak so eloquently and longingly of Arabic before” (2003, 30). The portrayal of Arabic language by Han in this way, moreover, demonstrates its central significance to Arab heritage and culture, as well as for their (Arabs) collective identity. In other words, it seems, to some extent, that Han romanticizes the Arabic language probably because he is proud of it. It signifies his origin and identity and projects the politics of sameness with other members of the Arab American community or the Arab nation abroad. In this context, Yasir Suleiman believes that language is the most essential feature of group identity. He states that “the treatment of language as the core ingredient and the most prominent manifestation of nationalism is characteristic of Arabic discourse on this topic [of the importance of Arabic to Arab identity]” (1994, 3). Equally important, the narratives in Means “Enough” in English. Means “Beloved” in English. Means “Veil” in English. Means “Go” in English. Means “Fast-Breaking” in English. Means “God’s blessings” in English.
In addition to the Arabic language, the religion of Islam also has a role in endorsing Arab nationalism in a diasporic context. Given that Abu-Jaber’s Juergensmeyer Mark explains that secular nationalism has increasingly been critiqued in the Arab world, particularly the Middle East, in the modern era for three essential reasons: it is regarded as a Western intrusion, it is intolerant of religion, and it promotes a unified world order that encourages a single central political authority (2006: 271–272).
Building on the argument of Smith et al. (2010), it is possible to argue that religion features Arab national identity in the host country, the USA, as a Janus-faced entity. For instance, on the one hand, it contributes to projecting a certain degree of commonality within the group that binds its Arab members together. On the other hand, it shows that national identity implies difference. From Anna Triandafyllido’s perspective, immigrants’ national identity in the country of settlement, “involves both self-awareness of the group but also awareness of others from whom the nation seeks to differentiate itself” (2006, 421) – in this case, white Americans. In other words, the Arab community in the novel utilizes religion to both express their national identity and draw a line from the national majority in the host country. For instance, celebrating Ramadan, as an Islamic practice and tradition, maintains the Arab characters’ Islamic affiliation and their ties to the Arab nation. Ramadan is a month of fasting that Arabs celebrate to fulfill their duty to Islam and the deity. In his storytelling, Sirine’s uncle reminds us how the month of Ramadan is observed:
The Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, told his followers to time certain rituals and activities according to the new moon. The first sighting of the new moon marks the beginning of each Islamic month and it marks the end of Ramadan – the great and pious month of fasting – which closes with “Id-al-Fitr, the Feast of Fast-Breaking”
The practice of this Islamic obligation works beyond just simply religious objectivity. It also determines the process of inclusiveness in the forming of a national identity on the basis of such religious practices. For further understanding of the relationship between religion and nationalism, see, notably, Barbara-Ann Rieffer’s article “Religion and Nationalism: Understanding the Consequences of a Complex Relationship” (2003). It should be acknowledged in this context that some characters, such as Um-Nadia, are non-Muslim but, still, they opt to be part of such a religious manifestation because of their tie to the Arab identity and nationalism, and also, because of the willingness to be grouped with other fellow Arabs in the diaspora. This shows that celebration of the national identity supersedes many other aspects, regardless of difference or diversity. National identity whether imagined, engineered or manipulated, is a recent human invention born out of the integration of conflicting ethnic or cultural identities or the disintegration of such identities. It is a modern invention of an axis of inclusion and exclusion that is not organic or natural thus requiring the artificial identification of those who belong to the nation, and more importantly, those who are excluded from it
By these words, Pappe Ilan suggests that the formation of the national self becomes critical in the formation of otherness on the basis of inclusion and exclusion parameters. Religion, therefore, can be regarded as an essential parameter that defines the “other”. The impact of religion on forming nationalism furthermore appears in the narratives when Sirine asks Han whether he is a Muslim. The latter claims that he is not a believer anymore, but still, he considers himself a Muslim for an important cause, to maintain political, social, cultural, and national objectivities: “I am no longer a believer but I still consider myself a Muslim. In some ways, my religion is even more important to me because of that [...] I do believe in social constructions, notions of allegiance, cultural identity” (2003, 182). Han’s reply may also be interpreted as an implicit opposition to the nationalist vision that Saddam Hussein built on the basis of secular political principles. The latter, as Mark Juergensmeyer (2010) contends, was in favor of secular nationalism and was regarded as the enemy of Islam. For more details, see “The Global Rise of Religious Nationalism”,
Han’s national identity, moreover, can be best described by what Khachig Tololyan calls “exilic nationalism”, which concerns people who are coerced to leave their homelands and opt to maintain their nationalist position in the host country (2010, 33). Accordingly, maintaining exilic nationalism, in Tololyan’s opinion, requires certain features that represent one’s national identity and sustain attachment to the homeland: these include language (Arabic), religion (Islam), and duty (2010, 34). Interestingly, Han’s nationalist duty first appeared when he was in Iraq – his opposition to Saddam Hussein’s dictatorship seemed to him a service to his country and the repressed Iraqi people: “I sank myself into politics [...] publishing diatribes against Saddam Hussein in underground newspapers. I wrote under pseudonym, Ma’al – I thought it sounded dangerous and mysterious” (2003, 329). Han is politically engaged to the extent that he would be executed if he returns to Iraq – he was regarded as a political menace to Saddam Hussein’s system. This political opposition and nationalist stance become part of Han’s life in the diaspora and an extension of his exilic experience. In other words, Han’s stance toward the ruling regime in Iraq perpetuates long-distance nationalism. According to Glick Schiller, a central component of long-distance nationalist thought is “regime change” (2005, 574). Han’s reflections generate the idea that exile nourishes nationalism. For Edward Said, both are two faces of the same coin and serve complementary relationship. He opines that “the interplay between nationalism and exile is like Hegel’s dialectic of servant and master, opposites informing and constitutes each other” (2000, 208).
Additionally, a nationalist position in the diaspora can also be reinforced by memories of home – whether cultural, political, national, or historical. Memories, in Khatharya Um’s terms, “nurture long-distance nationalism and spur transnational activism” (2019, 329). They have multiple functions, but notably, a reminder of one’s own original belonging to a particular nation or country. In the context of nationalism, memories can trigger willingness to show unity and solidarity, as well as engage in activism, with fellow nationals in the setting of both the diaspora and the homeland. According to John Brewer, “nations and memories are indivisible” (2006, 318). In the case of Han, his memories rely on invoking symbolic aspects of his country, i.e., Iraq, and the physical picture of it. This is evident in his conversation with Sirine who “asks about his parents and his memories of school and friends”:
He comes up with chips of details, bits of recollections of the chalky roads in their village, the grassy green olive oil on their kitchen table, and the coal-colored falcon that haunted a tree beside their house. He tells her about going to the desert that started just a few miles from his uncle’s farm – the same desert he would eventually cross when he fled Baghdad.
Han, in this passage, offers a historical narrative of the past by which to establish a sense of his nationhood in the setting of exile, in the US diaspora. Its construction relies on remembering what John Brewer calls features of nationhood: “physical and symbolic places, landscapes, cultural and historical sites and events that constitutes the nation” (2006, 318). This is also apparent through his portrayal and remembrance of three prominent national symbols of Iraq and its history: the Euphrates and the Tigris rivers; and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon (2003, 82). Gabriella Elgenius (2011), for instance, explains that national symbols are central markers of unity, nation-building, and nationalism. According to Elgenius, national symbols function “to express complex meanings related to nationhood and are for this reason challenged, contested, disputed, negotiated, mobilized, and replaced during socio-political conflict” (2011, 2). In this sense, Han’s remembrance of Iraq as such, with regard to his sociopolitical status, might work to fill that gap in his life that results from his displacement and his nationalist enthusiasm against Saddam Hussein’s regime.
The key feature of Han’s personal memories is that they produce social correlation and fusion, promoting collective national identity. This is because, as John Brewer argues, “personal memories exist in relation to the social processes that occasion and shape them, such as language, nationalism, cultural and political symbols and alike” (2006, 317). On this basis, it could be argued that “the strong and interdependent links between nationalism, identity, and memory materialize in the sites and rituals of commemoration, where the national movement fuses and molds the collective memory into collective identity” (Gershoni 2006, quoted in Litvak 2009, 14). Memory, therefore, contributes to the construction of nationalism for diasporans in the same way that language and religion do, generating a long-distance nationalist stand. Abu-Jaber, in this regard, points out that nationalism in the diaspora – drawing on the experiences and perspectives of the Arab American characters – implies the construction of a strong identity, as well as the establishment of strong political, social, and cultural ties between the Arab community of immigrants in the USA and the Arab mother-nation abroad. She, in this respect, paints a clear picture of what constitutes national identities in the diaspora – long-distance nationalism. The components of long-distance nationalism – such as language, religion, and memory – contribute to the formation of the Arab American community. This, in effect, complicates the Arab Americans’ affiliation to and their citizenship of the USA, which were initially put into question “since the arrival of the first wave of immigrants from the Arab world in the nineteenth century” (Fadda-Conrey 2014, 4).