If you’ve ever been to a Commonwealth cemetery on a foreign battlefield you will have found yourself doing it. Regardless of your intention when you arrived, or of your attitude towards the whole edifice of remembrance, you’ll soon realise you’re doing the same thing as everyone else: walking along the rows of graves, tastefully bordered with flower beds, reading the names on headstone after bright white headstone. The cemeteries demand it.
From Benedict Anderson’s Imagined Communities:
“Nothing suggests that Ghanaian nationalism is any less real than Indonesian simply because its national language is English rather than Ashanti. It is always a mistake to treat languages in the way that certain nationalist ideologues treat them – as emblems of nation-ness, like flags, costumes, folk-dances, and the rest. Much the most important thing about language is its capacity for generating imagined communities, building in effect particular solidarities. After all, imperial languages are still vernaculars, and thus particular vernaculars among many. If radical Mozambique speaks Portuguese, the significance of this is that Portuguese is the medium through which Mozambique is imagined (and at the same time limits its stretch into Tanzania and Zambia). Seen from this perspective the use of Portuguese in Mozambique (or English in India) is basically no different from the use of English in Australia or Portuguese in Brazil. Language is not an instrument of exclusion: in principle, anyone can learn any language. On the contrary, it is fundamentally inclusive, limited only by the fatality of Babel: no one lives long enough to learn all languages.”