Because Rogers Brubaker’s work is notable for analytical precision, I said it was striking that late in Grounds of Difference, he introduces the category of “peoplehood” as one that is “extremely flexible and adaptable,” capable of being grounded on “citizenship, history, language, way of life, descent, race, or religion.” Fortunately, he is still Brubaker. In his generous review of Political Peoplehood, his chief concern is that my use of “peoplehood” is too flexible and undefined. I do use that term interchangeably with “any and all human associations, groups, and communities.”

Brubaker finds this unwise because he believes that in the last two centuries, the word “people” has gained specific meanings from the rise of popular sovereignty and democracy, the ascendancy of the nation-state model, and heightened recognition of human diversity. These meanings are not attached to “any and all” groups. He suggests a people must be “stable, enduring, distinctive, encompassing, self-reproducing,” and must aspire to be “self-governing” to some degree.

For three reasons, I use “peoples” and “peoplehood” more expansively. The first is in the spirit of Brubaker’s “ethnicity without groups”: if we reject essentialized notions of group identities, we must acknowledge that associations that at one point do not aspire to be “political peoples” may do so at another. The recent cinematic depiction of the class-based formation of the “people” of The Free State of Jones is an example. Second, if we define “peoples” only as groups currently displaying the six features Brubaker lists, we risk assuming that the content elements and dynamics of identity construction that I delineate for “political peoples” do not apply to other kinds of groups. That will often be a mistake—precisely because most human associations, even many in social movements like LGBTQ groups, do aspire to be stable, enduring, distinctive, and self-reproducing to some meaningful degree. And though they vary in the degree to which they seek to be fully encompassing and self-governing, so do associations like municipalities, religious congregations, ethnic organizations, and regional federations. As Brubaker agrees, we would miss much if we did not recognize that all these groups may at times act as political peoples—fostering senses of loyal peoplehood to do so.

My final reason for defining “peoples” broadly is that, as Brubaker notes, he focuses on the term “people” during what we call the “modern” era, marked by the rise of nation-states and democracy. I do not, because I resist presumptions that the content elements and dynamics of identity construction in “pre-modern” political communities were sharply different from those of modern times. Such presumptions may lead us to overestimate the differences between past and present politics and to underestimate the diversity of forms that political peoplehood still displays, even during the centuries in which models of republican nation-states have gained an always-contested primacy.

Still, Brubaker is right that the term “people” has acquired more specific political connotations in the modern era. My broad usage risks fostering failure to appreciate vital differences between modern and pre-modern politics. I conclude that the questions of whether processes of forming “political peoples” have fundamentally changed over time, in ways that justify a firm modern/pre-modern divide, and that also imply a rejection of the label “people” for many groups today, are great questions to pursue. They provide a terrific agenda for scholars of the politics of identity construction and contestation to explore. In doing so, I hope they will find things to build on in the work of both of us. But I’m eager to see others boldly go where no Rogers has gone before.