LITR 5734: Colonial & Postcolonial Literature

Sample Student Midterm 2005

Michael A. Russo

Literature and the Complexity of the Human Story: A Better Understanding of Colonialism through the Study of Fiction

     Is it possible that the academic study of history is best accomplished through the discipline of literary studies?  In other words, if you want to learn something about the complexities of the human story, is it better to pick up a textbook or a novel?  What can we learn about colonialism, for example, by reading novels instead of textbooks?  While a single novel might have only a small impact on our understanding of colonialism, there is a very strong argument that a complex understanding of colonialism can be accomplished through the reading of numerous fictional works on the subject of colonialism.  Although careful consideration needs to go into the selection of reading materials, and group discussion of texts with fellow academics is certainly a plus – whether that be in a classroom setting or even through the consumption of critical essays – literary studies should not be underestimated in its ability to provide a complex, diverse and accurate understanding of history on a level not available to mere readers of historical textbooks.

     Consider the textbook approach to recording historical conflicts.  This approach presents us with the polished, publicly argued positions of the various interested parties.  There is a lot to like about this approach.  Such an understanding could, of course, potentially assist future human cultures in heading off similar instances of suffering; or, the more cynical observer may point out, it could also assist the conquerors of tomorrow in being more effective conquerors by helping them to avoid the mistakes of their historical predecessors.  But what does this approach really do to help us understand that history is a result of a complex clash of individual human drives, thoughts, desires, motivations, ambitions and philosophies?  When it comes to gaining some kind of workable understanding of this complexity, the traditional textbook approach to history is certainly lacking.  Looking at the unique viewpoints and perspectives of individuals can be better accomplished through literature.

     To be realistic, looking at history through fiction might make some scholars more than a little nervous, since the author of a novel, for example, is under less of an obligation to get right the particular facts of historical events – although we should understand that even “facts” that are presented by traditional scholars of history are sometimes problematic, and occasionally the ability to understand a complex situation lies beyond merely the who, what, where, and when.  Stories can be powerful rhetorical tools; those who have used stories to their advantage, such as the administrators of organized religions or the spiritual leaders of groups, clans, villages or sects, understand that just as stories have the power to influence the minds of an audience in a desired manner, so too can they produce undesired effects that subvert and dismantle.  This ability of fiction to connect with an audience on both an emotional level and a philosophical level, either in conjunction with or independent of historical fact, is a force neither virtuous nor evil; like the element of water, it can bring vitality to a culture, or wipe clean its fields so that other philosophical crops might be planted and new traditions sewn.  While stories can further our understanding of history and the complexities of the human story, they can also reinforce misinformation and supplant enlightened thought with stubbornly held superstitions.  Is it any wonder that the keepers of competing belief structures often seek to control the stories heard by the larger community?

     Achebe certainly understood the danger of not having one’s own stories.  That’s because it is through stories, whether fiction or non-fiction, that we are given a glimpse of the world from the unique perspectives of others.  Achebe’s unique position as a member of a colonized culture, yet also a student of the Western world, provided him with an opportunity to fill in the gaps of understanding between the Western world and the Third world.  This I believe he did with considerable success in his novel Things Fall Apart.  Achebe chose fiction as a means for teaching a very practical lesson – that the means of understanding human cultures is not straightforward, but the failure to understand the drives, customs and motivations of others – meaning those not like oneself in behavior, appearance or perspective – can have tragic consequences.

“I believe in the complexity of the human story, and that there’s no way you can tell that story in one way and say, ‘this is it.’ Always there will be someone who can tell it differently depending on where they are standing … this is the way I think the world’s stories should be told: from many different perspectives.”  (Chinua Achebe: The Art of Fiction)

     If Achebe is to be taken at his word, then he should certainly see the value of Joseph Conrad’s novel Heart of Darkness, and the place it serves in the literary dialogue surrounding the British colonial period of world history.  While Achebe openly questions the inherent greatness of Conrad’s novel, he does not question its usefulness in the larger dialogue about European colonialism in Africa.  In fact, Achebe himself owns much of his success to the existence of Heart of Darkness.  Without it, and Achebe’s rather forceful denouncement of what he felt, and I largely agree, were racist expressions in the text, Achebe might not have found the audience that he ultimately did find for his own novel, Things Fall Apart.  Student Kristy Pawlak, who I am often at odds with in terms of academic and intellectual philosophies, had a very good point in her midterm about Achebe’s inherent advantage over Conrad:

     “When Achebe set out to write Things Fall Apart he had the benefit of a clearly defined purpose–to respond to Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.  Or, as Dale Taylor quotes Andre Lefevere in her July 11, 2001, presentation, ‘to counteract the cultural claims of the colonizers.’  Not only did he have the benefit of shaping every word that he wrote to suit the purpose for which it was to be read, but he has also enjoyed the ability to guide discussions and critique of his work in relationship to its purpose.”

     We cannot ignore the role that Conrad played in Achebe’s success.  In addition to Kristy’s comments, I’d point out that had Conrad not been so successful in capturing the attention of a Western audience in the first place, would anybody have cared when Achebe pronounced that Conrad was a racist?  My own initial reaction when first reading Achebe’s essay on Conrad was defensive and resistant; after all, I found the anti-imperialist message of Heart of Darkness to be admirable, and even brave.  And while I do not agree with Kristy that the good intent of Conrad’s work essentially excuses its faults, I do agree that the text has more to like than dislike.  Because of that, Achebe’s forceful attack certainly caught my attention, even ruffled a few feathers, and eventually raised my curiosity level about Achebe’s own stories.  Could he do better than Conrad?  In many ways, benefit of a “clearly-defined purpose” aside, I now think that he did.

     But Achebe’s book does lack the perspective that Conrad presents in his text: namely, the perspective of the disillusioned member of the colonizing culture who has come to question the wisdom of colonizing Africa.  Heart of Darkness questions the colonization of Africa not so much because it empathizes with those Africans who are hurt by colonialism, although I think there is more of that than Achebe may care to admit, but rather because it undermines the moral and monetary arguments often used in support of colonialism.  Rather than bringing the divine light of morality to the Africans, colonialism is instead, according to Heart of Darkness, corrupting the souls of the colonizers and rendering the Africans themselves impotent in their own environment.  Rather than bringing financial opportunity to the people of Great Britain, colonialism in Heart of Darkness is benefiting only the accountants and money people at the expense of everyone else.  This text asks its audience a straight forward question: if the financial benefits of colonialism do not hold up to scrutiny, and the moral arguments can’t hold water, what exactly are we hoping to accomplish with this conquest of Africa?  That, I believe, is a useful dialogue that was certainly worthy of discussion in colonial England, and is even worthy of consideration today – do we give up more than we gain when we set out to exploit the peoples and resources of foreign lands for our own personal gain?  I believe that we do, and that Heart of Darkness helps make that case.

     Achebe tells a story that shows us the perspective of a traditional African man who in many ways, although not entirely, embodies the qualities that are respected by his people – hard work, strength, and an acceptance of the established power structure.  To Achebe’s credit, he doesn’t do a lot of sugar coating in Things Fall Apart.  His characters are flawed and, in many ways, create an opening for the missionaries and colonialists who destroy their culture – an opening that is created by the failure of village leaders to find an honorable place for all members of their community.  Through this text, we come to understand the strengths and weaknesses of the featured community, the reason behind its spiritual traditions, the motivations of its people, and the manner in which colonialism affected and dismantled its system of culture.

     Conrad’s argument does not require empathy to be effective, even if empathy does strengthen its potency.  Conrad’s arguments are rather unemotional and logical, even though Achebe accuses him of a kind of “bleeding heart liberalism” in his attitudes towards Africans.  But in many ways, Conrad avoids emotional arguments and instead appeals to his audience on the practical grounds I outlined above, namely: What is the benefit of all this?  That approach certainly found success with a lot of readers, but by itself it presents a largely incomplete picture of the nature of colonialism and the effects that it has on a colonized community.  When we combine Heart of Darkness with other texts on colonialism – and more specifically, texts on colonialism in Africa – we start to gain an understanding of this practice that would be hard to obtain merely through the reading of history books.

     By contrast to Conrad’s approach, Achebe’s approach is to humanize the Africans and provide context to their behaviors and traditions; this context is how we understand what might otherwise seem entirely illogical and absurd, which is exactly what many Europeans though of African traditions when they first witnessed them through the industry of colonialism.  This approach, I believe, allows more faith in the ability of readers to receive new ideas; where Conrad seems to almost hold back at times what he really wants to say, possibly out of fear that it will not be well received by his audience without some kind of sugar coating and reassurance of established European attitudes, Achebe seems to think that providing his audience with a proper understanding of African culture will change its attitudes towards black Africans.  Which approach is more successful in undermining European support for colonialism?  That certainly would depend on the varying characteristics of the individual readers.  It makes most sense, then, for both texts to work together in their own different ways in accomplishing an increased level of dialogue about the moral nature and practical worthiness of colonialist efforts.

     Of course the novel isn’t the only brand of literature that can contribute to the dialogue on colonialism.  In our class, we have looked at the poetry of Derek Walcott, who also has something to say about colonialism.  In “A Far Cry From Africa,” Walcott presents nicely the point of view of an individual caught between both the colonizing and colonized cultures; although Achebe himself would certainly understand this perspective and, I think, sought to put his audience in the same psychological bind, there were nonetheless no characters in Things Fall Apart who truly presented this conflicted viewpoint.  Even the Africans who converted to Christianity in that novel were not explored in depth, and in fact most seemed to adopt the colonizing culture almost completely.  Walcott, however, shows us the moral dilemma that is present to the educated man who is attracted to the good in the colonizing culture, yet who cannot condone the violence and slaughter that has been brought to the colonized peoples.  “How can I face such slaughter and be cool,” he asks us, and indeed there is no good answer to that question.  Because Walcott does not fully condemn the colonizing culture, and recognizes that there are things to love about it, he helps break down any resistance that a European reader might have to arguments against colonialism.  Walcott provides yet another perspective which, in dialogue with Achebe and Conrad, deepens our understanding of this period of history and the people who lived it.

     I started this discussion by asking a question: Which is the better tool for understanding human history, the novel or the textbook?  In many ways, my goal was to argue for the advantages of fiction over textbooks; fiction, properly consumed and selectively chosen, better presents the complexity of the human story.  Nonetheless, the textbook too has its place in the study of history, and its own set of strengths, beyond the scope of this essay, which cannot and should not be ignored.  After a properly planned and well executed literary study of colonialism and its impact, the formerly dry history textbook suddenly takes on a new and more palatable role, filling in the gaps of the stories with missing details, and possibly correcting any misconceptions obtained through the literary approach.  Fictional stories, I would argue, help in the understanding of related facts while providing an additional level of understanding.  That means literature must not be overlooked as a tool useful not just for aspiring writers and school teachers, but also as a tool for any scholar of the human story.