Keaton Patterson 10 December 2011 (R)evolution of Knowledge: A Few Things I Learned about the
Educational and Political Potential of Postcolonial Studies
I did not know what to expect from taking the
colonial-postcolonial literature seminar. Before this semester, the main
concentration of my academic studies was in American literature, particularly
modern and contemporary, and my only intention was to gain a more worldly
literary perspective. However, what ended up happening was nothing less than a
revolution in my analytical thought process, as well as a revitalization of my
belief in the possibility of using literature and literary criticism to
enact/influence positive, liberating sociopolitical change. Throughout the
semester, I was continually exposed to literature that undermined the dominant
Western understanding of foreign cultures, and, as a result, I learned more
about America’s peculiar position within the postcolonial worldscape. In comparing texts in dialogue, such
as Robinson Crusoe and
Lucy or
Heart of Darkness and
Things Fall Apart, what is really
striking to me are the conflicting perspectives that emerge regarding the
“education” arising from the cultural exchange of colonial contact. Herein lies
the crux of what I learned—the effects of colonialism, including the cultural
products it engenders (i.e., literature), have controlled how privileged
individuals in the West perceive the “Third World,” shaping the political
relationship between the two regions in the process. Furthermore, the schooling
delivered through colonial administrations was intended not solely to educate
its subjects, but also to imbue the colonized mind with the “superiority” of
Western culture and civilization. However, postcolonial texts challenge this
hegemony, presenting a view that strips the colonial endeavor of its benevolence
to more fully perceive its agenda of domination. I began exploring this idea with my
midterm, focusing on the self-other dialectic and the possibility of
intertextuality in colonial-postcolonial literary studies to illuminate “the way
for a new, more egalitarian synthesis of human relations” (para. 1). However, I
discovered that this outcome is only possible by exposing the oppressive power
relations in the cultural-educational discourse surrounding colonial contact.
For example, in Robinson Crusoe, the
titular character shows a capacity for benevolence in tutoring the native he
names Friday, but this education is founded on a political hierarchy as is seen
clearly in the first “lesson”: “[F]irst I made him know his Name should be
Friday … I likewise taught him to say
Master, and then let him know, that
was to be my Name” (149). After this initial introduction into Western
education, Friday becomes the faithful servant/slave of the English castaway,
helping Crusoe greatly and learning much in return, but Friday’s education and
thus his worldview are always importantly governed by the structure of this
power relation. He never questions his social position or the subservient role
to which he is relegated as a result. In
Lucy, though, the destructive dominance of colonial education is directly
addressed. In the “daffodil” scene, Lucy is forced to recollect her school
memories and the cultural indoctrination she received as an English colonial
subject. Unlike, Mariah, the bourgeois American housewife, Lucy knows that
“nothing can change the fact that where she saw beautiful flowers I saw nothing
but sorrow and bitterness” (30). Lucy relates the flowers to the education that
taught her to value English culture over her own, as her own in fact. Instead of
the generous “civilizing” experience of Friday, Lucy is aware of the power
relations that hold her in servitude. Rather than improvement, she only sees
conquest and destruction. This pattern was also viewed in the
dialogue between Heart of Darkness
and Things Fall Apart. Marlow’s
description of the ship’s fireman as an “improved specimen” (38) is especially
telling in this regard. When taken in context with Kurtz’s mission to bring
civilization and “light” to the dark masses of Africa, it is clear that
education as a method of “improvement” in colonial literature is a process of
domination. Still, the ambivalence of Conrad’s novel problematizes this stance
somewhat, and it is necessary to compare the depiction of education with that of
postcolonial literature to gain a clearer understanding. In
Things Fall Apart, the educating
mission of the colonial administration (i.e., missionaries) is portrayed by
Achebe as a divide-and-conquer strategy that fractures Umuofian culture and
society, turning clansmen against their own: How do you think we can fight when our own brothers have
turned against us? The white man is very clever. He came quietly and peaceably
with his religion. We were amused at his foolishness and allowed him to stay.
Now he has won out brothers, and our clan can no longer act like one. He has put
a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart. (100) With these four examples, the differing perspectives of
colonizer and colonized in regards to colonial education becomes apparent. While
the colonizer uses education as justification for his domination of others, the
colonized recognize it as such in an effort to enact resistance. Through the use
of literature, both sides work to achieve their ends. However, as I will touch
on below, the simple fact that there is a dialogue over such issues holds out
hope for an “egalitarian synthesis of human relations” (Patterson midterm para.
1).
First,
though, it is important to bring America into the conversation. American culture
and education has traditionally resisted postcolonial criticism, seemingly
removed from world issues stemming from colonialism and later decolonization. In
my research journal, however, I explored how the “insincere framing of America’s
colonial roots has been instrumental in advancing the nation’s imperialist
aspirations from its very founding” (entry 1, para. 3). Ultimately, America’s
position as the world power is
reliant on its exemption from colonizer status, and American education reflects
this larger political context. Postcolonial studies is largely ignored in
mainstream American education, and the criticism that does arise is always
viewed with suspicion (such as that leveled at Edward Said for his political
beliefs) in order to maintain the dominant narrative in which America plays the
role of liberator. Yet, as history shows, this ruse enables neocolonialism to be
disseminated throughout the world, maintaining the supremacy of American culture
and perpetuating its influence.
The course of this seminar built upon my previous
knowledge by not only giving me access to differing perspectives of world
events, such as colonialism. Moreover, I found in postcolonial literature the
direct relationship I was looking for between culture and sociopolitical change.
Most important in this regard was the dialogic reading of the texts. By
establishing a dialogue, we move beyond the dichotomous realm of domination and
resistance. Instead, we foster the emergence of reconciliation and
egalitarianism in human relations. Moreover, the field of postcolonial studies
builds a bridge for cross-cultural understanding that is not as prevalent in
other modes of literary analysis. According to Camille Buxton, “Although the
purpose of this class has been to create a dialogue between colonial and post
colonial texts, it has also been able to expand student knowledge of a variety
of cultures using literature … Therefore, literature has become a useful tool by
expanding its reach from the realm of entertainment to education” (final essay
para. 5). Therein is the true value of postcolonial studies—the questioning or
refutation of old understanding in exchange for the new. As such, this field has
social importance that extends far beyond the scope of literature, and what I
learned will influence my academic and professional career from now on. Question
everything…especially the authority by which knowledge is categorized. To
improve human relations, it is necessary to take all views into consideration.
|