Print Capitalism, National Consciousness, and the Problem with Imagined Unity

Benedict Anderson’s Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism explores how nationalism itself is not an organic development, but a socially constructed phenomenon—an “imagined community” built through shared language, culture, and crucially, the rise of print capitalism.

It’s a fascinating idea: that nations are not bound by physical borders but rather by the stories we tell ourselves and each other. Citizens build a sense of belonging through newspapers, novels, and other printed materials, one that gives people the illusion of unity with others they would never meet in person. Anderson argues that this shared sense of identity, while powerful, is imagined. And like many imagined ideas, it can be wielded for both cohesion and control.

From Anderson’s perspective, the press plays a key role in this construction. Journalism becomes not just a source of information, but a vehicle for reinforcing nationalism. At its best, the media is supposed to serve as a societal watchdog. However, under capitalism, and particularly when a handful of billionaires control the press, those ideals are often replaced by narratives that serve power, not the people.

In the same way state-run media has shaped public perception in countries like North Korea, Vietnam, or China (as Anderson notes on pages 282–283), Western media, though less overtly controlled, often operates in similar ways. Ownership, agenda, and ideology filter what gets published, and who gets heard. The result? A narrative that normalizes colonization, glorifies the past, and renders oppression and exploitation invisible to the mainstream.

And even though much of the media we consume today is digital rather than printed, the impact remains. Words are still “printed” on screens, and they still construct a national identity; one that often leans heavily into conservative values, especially in the U.S., where Christianity and nationalism frequently go hand in hand.

Now, to be clear: having pride in your country isn’t inherently problematic. However, when a selective history and curated information shape national pride, things become murky. For example, in certain rural or conservative parts of the U.S., public school curricula are shaped by school boards that may actively omit or distort historical realities, glossing over colonization, slavery, and the actual mechanics of war. Omission doesn’t just limit education; it undermines the national consciousness that Anderson described. Without honest reflection, the “imagined community” becomes more myth than memory.

Capitalism and the Narrative of Truth

Ideologies such as Marxism and socialism were founded on principles of equity and solidarity. However, when capitalism becomes the dominant force behind the circulation of information—especially when profit and power are involved—those ideals can be easily co-opted. Greed alters the public narrative, and we see this play out in real time through today’s media coverage.

A Case Study in Media Framing

Take, for example, the ongoing starvation of Palestinian infants and children. A leaked internal memo from The New York Times in 2024 reportedly instructed journalists not to refer to Palestine as an “occupied territory” or to use terms like “genocide” in their reporting. Regardless of where one stands politically, it’s clear that such editorial decisions shape public perception. When specific terms are off-limits, it becomes harder for readers to access the full scope of the issue, and easier for a particular narrative to dominate the conversation. In this case, media objectivity is compromised in favor of language that supports nationalist or colonialist perspectives.

It’s not just about one conflict and its framing. It’s about how newsrooms, under the pressure of corporate and political interests, contribute to constructing national identity in ways that may exclude or silence others. They become complicit. When journalism becomes selective in its truth-telling, it undermines its purpose and reinforces a worldview that favors power over people.

The Tech-Nationalism Feedback Loop

Nationalism, as Anderson reminds us, is a modern invention. It evolves alongside technology, and as our means of communication become faster and more centralized, so too does the spread of nationalist ideology. We see this not just in the U.S., but in places like China, where digital firewalls and media censorship shape the public’s perception of national identity. There, access to platforms like Facebook or Instagram is restricted not only for security, but also to protect a specific narrative.

Secular Allegiance and the Flattening of Identity

Anderson also notes how nationalism can take on secular forms, replacing religious or ethnic affiliations with allegiance to the nation-state. In theory, this could be a unifying force; something that helps people move beyond divisions and find common ground. In practice, though, it often flattens identity, pushing marginalized communities to conform to dominant norms or risk exclusion.

Conclusion: Who Gets Left Out?

This tension between imagined unity and lived reality is perhaps the most pressing issue with nationalism today. When media and technology become tools of influence rather than inquiry, they no longer create bridges between people. They create barriers.

Anderson’s work doesn’t just help explain the origins of nationalism; it offers a lens for questioning the stories we’re told and the systems that tell them. It invites us to ask the following question: Who benefits from these imagined communities? Who gets left out of the story?