MALIBONGWE MAKHONZA: With the rise of ultranationalism, identity becomes a battlefield
Identity politics that birth insurgencies and redraw borders in blood are at the heart of many of today’s great conflicts
17 February 2025 - 19:14
byMalibongwe Makhonza
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The world is tilting towards isolation, protectionism and withdrawal, says the writer. Picture: 123RF/LIGHTWISE
The war in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) echoes a familiar story, one that has played out time and again across the world.
The grievances fuelling the conflict are not new; they have been heard before, in different languages, on different battlefields, under different banners. The idea that a political cause can be built around identity is as old as the nation-state itself.
Today, in the eastern DRC Tutsi armed groups claim to fight for their place in a nation they believe has rejected them, a cause not unlike that of the Albanians in Kosovo in the late 1990s, who sought recognition and self-determination in the face of Serbian rule.
In truth, this strain of identity politics, the kind that births insurgencies and redraws borders in blood, is at the heart of many of today’s great conflicts. It lurks behind Russia’s war in Ukraine, where an imperial nostalgia masquerades as national destiny.
It fuels the battle over Gaza, where two nationalisms, each unwilling to yield, grind against each other in a struggle for land and history. It is the same belief, repeated across time — the belief in a nation so singular in its identity that it must be purified, expanded or reimagined entirely.
So what then does it mean to be a nationalist in the modern world? And how does one determine where nationalism ends as a tool for liberation and where it begins as a weapon for domination?
The wars that tore apart Yugoslavia in the 1990s were not only about territory; they were about the erasure of other identities. It was not just about independence; it was about belonging, about who is part of the nation and who is not.
The problem, of course, is that nationalism never dies. It lingers long after the battles have ended, feeding on the ruins of war.
The Serbs in Kosovo, like the Tutsis in eastern DRC today, were cast as permanent outsiders in a place they called home. And as history has shown, when nationalism ceases to be about equality and becomes a project of exclusion, the endgame is always the same, a sectarian war.
The fall of Goma is yet another moment in the long and bloody history of nationalist ambitions gone too far. It is a war of identity, a war of belonging, a war that does not end when one side wins.
The problem, of course, is that nationalism never dies. It lingers long after the battles have ended, feeding on the ruins of war. The Balkans are still divided by invisible lines drawn in the 1990s. Bosnia remains a fractured state. Kosovo is still a contested land. The grievances that fuelled those wars were not erased; they were simply buried under uneasy truces.
And so too will be the case in eastern DRC, in Ukraine, in Gaza. This whole construct breeds a real legacy of bitterness, leaving communities permanently estranged. Nationalism is a divisive and destructive force when left unchecked. It does not stop at victory; it demands absolute submission. And when war is fought on identity, peace does not bring reconciliation, it merely freezes the conflict until the next spark reignites the fire.
That is clearly troubling. The world is tilting towards isolation, protectionism and withdrawal. In America, once the supposed beacon of democracy, nationalism is no longer about leading the world but about turning away from it. The Trumpian vision — withdraw from Nato, cut international aid, focus only on what happens at home — feeds into a broader trend.
Nationalism unchecked does not remain within borders; it spills over, it escalates, it draws new battle lines. And when the principle of exclusion becomes the foundation of the state, it is only a matter of time before the next war begins.
So where do we draw the line? Perhaps it is this: nationalism is only justifiable when it is a force for liberation, when it seeks equality among nations rather than the domination of others. When nationalism becomes about territorial expansion, hegemony and exclusion, it is no longer self-determination, it is a declaration of war.
And history has shown, time and again, that when battle lines are drawn in the name of identity, they are not easily erased.
• Makhonza is a final year BBusSc computer science student at the University of Cape Town.
Support our award-winning journalism. The Premium package (digital only) is R30 for the first month and thereafter you pay R129 p/m now ad-free for all subscribers.
MALIBONGWE MAKHONZA: With the rise of ultranationalism, identity becomes a battlefield
Identity politics that birth insurgencies and redraw borders in blood are at the heart of many of today’s great conflicts
The war in the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) echoes a familiar story, one that has played out time and again across the world.
The grievances fuelling the conflict are not new; they have been heard before, in different languages, on different battlefields, under different banners. The idea that a political cause can be built around identity is as old as the nation-state itself.
Today, in the eastern DRC Tutsi armed groups claim to fight for their place in a nation they believe has rejected them, a cause not unlike that of the Albanians in Kosovo in the late 1990s, who sought recognition and self-determination in the face of Serbian rule.
In truth, this strain of identity politics, the kind that births insurgencies and redraws borders in blood, is at the heart of many of today’s great conflicts. It lurks behind Russia’s war in Ukraine, where an imperial nostalgia masquerades as national destiny.
It fuels the battle over Gaza, where two nationalisms, each unwilling to yield, grind against each other in a struggle for land and history. It is the same belief, repeated across time — the belief in a nation so singular in its identity that it must be purified, expanded or reimagined entirely.
So what then does it mean to be a nationalist in the modern world? And how does one determine where nationalism ends as a tool for liberation and where it begins as a weapon for domination?
The wars that tore apart Yugoslavia in the 1990s were not only about territory; they were about the erasure of other identities. It was not just about independence; it was about belonging, about who is part of the nation and who is not.
The Serbs in Kosovo, like the Tutsis in eastern DRC today, were cast as permanent outsiders in a place they called home. And as history has shown, when nationalism ceases to be about equality and becomes a project of exclusion, the endgame is always the same, a sectarian war.
The fall of Goma is yet another moment in the long and bloody history of nationalist ambitions gone too far. It is a war of identity, a war of belonging, a war that does not end when one side wins.
The problem, of course, is that nationalism never dies. It lingers long after the battles have ended, feeding on the ruins of war. The Balkans are still divided by invisible lines drawn in the 1990s. Bosnia remains a fractured state. Kosovo is still a contested land. The grievances that fuelled those wars were not erased; they were simply buried under uneasy truces.
And so too will be the case in eastern DRC, in Ukraine, in Gaza. This whole construct breeds a real legacy of bitterness, leaving communities permanently estranged. Nationalism is a divisive and destructive force when left unchecked. It does not stop at victory; it demands absolute submission. And when war is fought on identity, peace does not bring reconciliation, it merely freezes the conflict until the next spark reignites the fire.
That is clearly troubling. The world is tilting towards isolation, protectionism and withdrawal. In America, once the supposed beacon of democracy, nationalism is no longer about leading the world but about turning away from it. The Trumpian vision — withdraw from Nato, cut international aid, focus only on what happens at home — feeds into a broader trend.
Nationalism unchecked does not remain within borders; it spills over, it escalates, it draws new battle lines. And when the principle of exclusion becomes the foundation of the state, it is only a matter of time before the next war begins.
So where do we draw the line? Perhaps it is this: nationalism is only justifiable when it is a force for liberation, when it seeks equality among nations rather than the domination of others. When nationalism becomes about territorial expansion, hegemony and exclusion, it is no longer self-determination, it is a declaration of war.
And history has shown, time and again, that when battle lines are drawn in the name of identity, they are not easily erased.
• Makhonza is a final year BBusSc computer science student at the University of Cape Town.
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