Underneath every debate about nationalism lies an old philosophical question: do our deepest obligations run to particular people, such as family, community and nation, or to all human beings equally? Particularists stress the first, universalists the second. Most people hold some mixture, and the hard part is deciding what to do when they conflict.

Citizens of the world

The idea of a universal human community is ancient. The Greek philosopher Diogenes of Sinope (fourth century BCE), when asked where he came from, is reported to have answered: “I am a citizen of the world.” In this way he called himself a citizen of the world, a kosmopolitēs, the origin of the word cosmopolitan. The Stoics developed the idea: each person belongs to two communities, the local one of their birth and the vast community of all human beings who share reason. The Stoic philosopher Hierocles pictured each person at the center of concentric circles: self, family, relatives, fellow citizens and, at the outer edge, all humanity. Our task, he taught, is that we should draw the outer circles of concern inward toward ourselves, treating strangers more like kin.

In Perpetual Peace (1795), Immanuel Kant proposed a federation of free republics to end war, and a limited “cosmopolitan right”: strangers should not be treated with hostility when they arrive in another land. He observed, in paraphrase, that the peoples of the earth had become so connected that a violation of right in one place is felt everywhere.

Patriotism and nationalism again

Many thinkers distinguish patriotism, love of one's country, its people and its shared laws and liberties, from nationalism understood as the exaltation of one's nation above others (recall Orwell in Level 6). A patriot in this sense can criticize their country sharply, precisely because they care about it.

The special obligations debate

Do we owe more to fellow citizens than to foreigners? Defenders of special obligations argue that relationships and shared institutions create added duties, much as family ties do. We cooperate with fellow citizens, share laws and burdens with them, and learn morality inside particular communities. The philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre argued that patriotism can be a genuine virtue for this reason. Michael Walzer, in Spheres of Justice (1983), argued in paraphrase that political communities have a legitimate claim to shape their own membership and shared way of life. Particularists add that people usually learn to care for humanity through love of particular people and places, not instead of it.

Universalists reply that special duties need a universal justification. The political theorist Robert Goodin argued, in paraphrase, that special duties to compatriots are an efficient way of dividing up duties owed to everyone: it works better to assign each state responsibility for its own people, just as it works better for each parent to look after their own child. But when that system fails, the underlying duty to all human beings returns. The philosopher Martha Nussbaum argued in 1994 that education should teach students that their first allegiance is to humanity as a whole.

Shared humanity first

One serious position, held by many cosmopolitans and by humanist traditions including the Universal Humanism on which this school is built, is that shared humanity comes before group identity. Human worth comes from being human, so national, religious and ethnic identities may be loved and celebrated but can never rank one person's worth above another's. On this view, national loyalty is legitimate only within limits set by equal concern for all.

Critics raise real objections. They argue that it may be too abstract to motivate people and sustain institutions; that democracy and welfare states need bounded communities with members who trust each other; that “universal” values can disguise the values of one powerful culture; and that global institutions are remote and hard to hold accountable.

Middle positions exist. The philosopher Kwame Anthony Appiah defends a rooted cosmopolitanism, combining local loyalties with concern for all humanity: one can love a home, a language and a country while recognizing obligations to every human being. Whether that balance holds under pressure is a question each generation has to answer for itself.

Worked example: one budget, two disasters

Imagine a town council with a modest emergency fund. In the same week, a flood damages homes in a low-lying part of town, and a far larger earthquake strikes a poor country overseas, killing thousands. A council member proposes giving part of the fund to international earthquake relief. How would different positions reason?

• A strong particularist says the council exists to serve its own residents, who pay for the fund. Helping flood victims at home comes first; individuals can give privately to the earthquake appeal.
• A Goodin-style universalist agrees that the council's main job is local, because assigning responsibility that way usually works best for everyone. But they note that the overseas country cannot meet the need alone, so the assigned system is failing there, and some duty to help returns.
• A shared-humanity-first view starts from the equal worth of every person affected. The flood victims and the earthquake victims count the same. That does not mean ignoring local residents, but it does mean asking where the money will save or help the most people, and being honest if that is overseas.
• A rooted cosmopolitan looks for a combination: fully meet the urgent local need, send a smaller sum abroad, and organize a public appeal so residents can give more.

Notice that the positions disagree less about whether foreigners matter than about how much weight local ties should carry and who is best placed to help. The critic of universalism also has a point: if residents feel the council ignored them, their trust and future willingness to give may fall. Good political reasoning keeps both concerns in view.