When Frantz Fanon asserted that
"for a colonized people, the most essential value, because the most
concrete, is first and foremost the land: the land which will bring them bread
and, above all, dignity," he might have laid the groundwork for the
critical field of postcolonial-ecocriticism. According to Fanon, the term
"land" is the defining feature of former colonies, serving as both an
identity marker and a source of livelihood for the inhabitants, including both
the colonizers and the colonized, both before and after the end of physical
colonialism. This insight provides a basis for the collaboration of ideological
concerns of postcolonial critics to develop a more comprehensive theory on
colonized people and their natural environment.
While ecocriticism initially focused on the conservation of
nature, particularly "the wilderness," postcolonialism centers on the
"analytics of place, power, knowledge, and representation".
Therefore, postcolonialism and ecocriticism converge on the idea that both
fields are concerned with the representation of place, with postcolonialism
emphasizing the historical aspects of place and ecocriticism focusing on the
aesthetics of place.
Erin James suggests that when the environmental focus of
ecocriticism intersects with the cultural, linguistic, and representational
concerns of postcolonialism, there is an opportunity to "expand the
boundaries of each discourse in new and exciting ways". However, this
combination creates a philosophical instability within postcolonial-ecocriticism.
Rob Nixon identifies key differences between the two:
Postcolonialists emphasize hybridity and cross-culturation,
while ecocritics historically lean towards discourses of purity, emphasizing
virgin wilderness and preserving 'uncorrupted' places.
Postcolonialism often deals with displacement, while
environmental literary studies prioritize the literature of specific places.
Postcolonial studies tend to favor cosmopolitan and
transnational perspectives, criticizing nationalism. In contrast, environmental
literature and criticism often develop within a nationalistic American
framework.
Postcolonialism explores marginalized histories, often along
transnational axes of migrant memory, while environmental literature tends to
repress history for a pursuit of timeless moments with nature.
The examination of nationalism
during decolonization has generated diverse viewpoints, leading to
disagreements about its role and dynamics. Political nationalism challenges the
idea of 'colonial difference' externally, while cultural nationalism seeks to
preserve it internally in a reformed manner. This complex interplay continues
to have significant consequences for Africa today.
Benedict Anderson's work,
'Imagined Communities,' contributes to our understanding of the origin and
global spread of nationalism. He suggests that the emergence of anti-colonial
nationalisms is influenced by native 'bilingual intelligentsias.' These
individuals, exposed to "modern Western culture in the broadest
sense," played a crucial role in the rise of anti-colonial nationalism. By
speaking the language of colonial rulers and having experienced life in Europe
or North America, they used their knowledge to shape a nationalist
consciousness when denied power by colonial regimes.
However, critics challenge
Anderson's account, arguing that it diminishes the agency of the colonized
world. Loomba contends that accepting Anderson's explanation implies that
"anti-colonial nationalism is itself made possible and shaped by European
political and intellectual history". This reduces it to a 'derivative
discourse' relying on models and language borrowed from colonial powers. The
Subaltern Studies collective, especially Chatterjee, questions what is left for
nationalisms worldwide if they have to choose from predefined forms provided by
Europe and the Americas. Chatterjee emphasizes that these regions not only
shaped "colonial enlightenment and exploitation" but also
"anti-colonial resistance and post-colonial misery," highlighting the
enduring colonization of imaginations.
Chatterjee acknowledges
Euro-centrism in Anderson's views but argues that anti-colonial nationalism
focused on the differences between Western and Asian/African identities, rather
than a specific identity. To understand this, we can distinguish between nationalism
as a political movement (external) and nationalism as a cultural construct
(internal). The former challenges the colonial state, while the latter allows
the colonized to create their own personal space.
In the cultural realm,
nationalism shapes a modern project that isn't Western. Chatterjee argues that
this is where the nation, as an imagined community, comes into existence.
Anti-colonial nationalism often asserted control over language, religion, art,
education, and popular culture, asserting sovereignty in Asia and Africa.
Nigerian cultural nationalism in literature and filmmaking emphasized
indigenous elements, proposing alternative representational paradigms. In this
internal realm, anti-colonial nationalisms aimed to maintain reshaped notions
of 'difference' to resist modern disciplinary power structures.
Externally, where nationalism
is a political movement, efforts are made to eliminate the imprints of colonial
difference. The colonial state's authority relied on maintaining the otherness
of the ruling group, legitimizing actions by affirming their superiority.
Colonial difference took various forms, with race often determining eligibility
for governance and civil society participation. Language, too, occasionally
restricted freedom of speech. South Africa is an example where colonial
differences were stark. Anti-colonial nationalism aimed to challenge these
differences by highlighting the incongruity between colonial rule conditions
and the modern regimes sought by colonialists.
Colonial rulers justified
their actions by incorporating social regulations to discipline individuals,
claiming it made power more effective and humane. Anti-colonial nationalists
agreed with this idea but argued that colonial rule went against the true principles
of modern governance. For example, Nelson Mandela and the ANC in South Africa
asserted their rights by referring to the norms of enlightened modern states.
Similarly, in Algeria, nationalist leader Emir Khalid highlighted the conflict
between French colonial policies and the modern regime of power it aimed to
promote. He used assimilationist rhetoric against the colonial system,
demanding equal rights for Muslims. This approach reflects the nationalist
hegemony project, aiming to establish and expand modern forms of disciplinary
power. In many ways, post-colonial states formed through nationalism have
adopted the ideas and practices of colonialism.
The rejection of poets and
writers in Plato's Republic, along with the arguments he put forth to justify
his stance, has given rise to a perceived gap between philosophy and
literature. This has sparked a provocative debate within academia regarding the
relationship between these two disciplines. Many assert that there is no
inherent connection between philosophy and literature,
contrary views exist among
writers and philosophers who contend that it is inaccurate to claim that
philosophy and literature are fundamentally separate—rather, they argue that
the two are intricately linked, serving as corollaries.
Philosophy is not an
inaccessible and esoteric discourse reserved for intellectuals or those deemed
eccentric. Philosophy is not confined to doctrines and inscrutable mysteries
packaged in books advocating atheism or secularism. philosophy can be
understood in two senses.
Firstly, it can be seen as a
world view, defined as a comprehensive perspective on the world and humanity's
place in it, encompassing beliefs and ideas derived from it—be they economic,
social-political, or moral. Within this framework, we distinguish between a
communal world view, an unconscious amalgamation of beliefs, and a
philosophical world view, characterized by a systematic and prognostic
compilation of beliefs, practices, concepts, and ideas. Secondly, philosophy
can be viewed as a rational critical discourse primarily aimed at
self-understanding. philosophy becomes the criticism of the ideas shaping our
lives. In this context, philosophy is reactive, argumentative, and challenges
established explanations of ourselves and our beliefs. The term itself is
entangled in a litany of definitions stemming from its problematic elucidation
and etymology.
Literature can be precisely
defined as a written imaginative and literal work possessing significance and
enduring artistic value. It must be imaginative, written, and infused with
artistic values.
Drawing connections between
literature and philosophy, Olusegun posits two general points of relation.
Firstly, both are forms of social consciousness, representing constructions of
language.
The initial layer of their
interconnectedness lies in the fact that both literature and philosophy are
inherently social phenomena, as asserted by Oladipo. Their social nature
extends beyond being products of the society; they emerge from the human experiences
of individuals or groups, addressing abstract matters that arise from
reflective contemplation on life's phenomena. both disciplines are deeply
rooted in culture and cater to the intellectual and practical needs of society.
They share a common focus on the human person in various aspects of experience,
reflecting a shared pursuit of a better understanding and resolution of human
existence.
The second connection between
literature and philosophy is their shared reliance on language as a medium of
construction. Philosophy formulates and clarifies concepts, while literature
utilizes these words to convey ideas, characters, moral principles, and to
expand upon realities. Furthermore, both disciplines serve as mirrors
reflecting the society's development and state. The philosophy of an era and
the literature of a period provide insights into the nature, problems, and
realities of that time, encapsulating the beliefs of individuals about their
surroundings.
Philosophy, as defined
earlier, is normative, offering norms to regulate thinking and behavior in
society through the critical examination of prevailing ideas. Similarly,
literature conveys morality pedagogically through thematic elements. For
instance, works like Achebe's "Things Fall Apart" or "The
Beautiful Ones are Not Yet Born," and Wole Soyinka's writings embody this
normative aspect.
both philosophy and literature
are systematic presentations, avoiding mere haphazard amalgamation. They are
deliberate constructs with structured elements. the dynamic interaction between
philosophy and literature involves a mutual exploration of each other's areas
of discourse. Crucially, philosophy engages with literature through the
instrument of critical inquiry.
Literal criticism involves the
philosophical analysis and judgment of works of art and literature. The
intertwining of philosophy and literature is evident in the observation that
"Great Literature is often deeply philosophical, and Great Philosophy is
often great literature." This fusion is exemplified by renowned
philosophers, with many presenting their ideas in literary forms, as seen in
Plato's Dialogues. Notably, philosophers like Nietzsche and Wittgenstein
employed a dramatic and aphoristic style in their writings.
To rightfully assume its place
and fulfill its societal function, literature must incorporate elements of
philosophy. In fact, certain literary works, such as Shakespeare's "Romeo
and Juliet," are widely acknowledged as having philosophical dimensions.
Irigaray's philosophical undertaking revolves extensively
around reimagining the relationships between women and men within a framework
of sexual difference, treating both as autonomous subjects. Consequently, it
becomes apparent that sexual difference, later reformulated as sexuate
difference in Irigaray's later texts, provides a rich framework for delving
into the complexities of masculinities and male bodies. In this discussion, I
will explore the implications of Irigaray's critical project for the
understanding of male bodies and the formation of masculine subjectivity.
Irigaray's work prompts us to approach men and their
bodies from a radically different conceptual perspective, one where the
feminine and female bodies resist being consumed, devalued, or defined solely
in masculine terms. In essence, Irigaray proposes that men should cultivate a
distinct mode of thinking and living within their own bodies, contributing to
the construction of the world on their own terms without subsuming or
appropriating the experiences of 'others'. This fundamental idea underscores
why, for Irigaray, it is inconceivable to position herself in a man's
standpoint or to presume to think or speak on his behalf.
Irigaray also implies a reconsideration of men's
positions and lived experiences concerning their own bodies and their
relationships with women, language, and the world. One facet of her philosophy
involves urging men to critically examine their connection to the constructed
and projected notion of 'humanity,' a construct predominantly shaped by men
themselves. Since Irigaray contends that true humanity is yet to be realized,
she advocates cultivating the limit—a concept she borrows from Heidegger—as
part of her reevaluation of relationships between men and women.
Rejecting the artificial construct of humanity, which she
sees as a masculine fiction dictating the notion of what a human being is,
Irigaray proposes a return to the reality of sexuate difference as a
transformative foundation for the universal. For men, this entails the task of
cultivating the limit, embracing the finitude of their gendered embodied
presence in the world and their male embodiment in relation to women's bodies
and the world. This shift prompts men to recognize that they do not represent
the entirety of the universal and the world. Consequently, men are urged to
reconsider the journeys they undertake in and through the world, recognizing
the need for a fundamental reevaluation.
In her "In the Beginning, She Was," Irigaray
revisits the Heideggerian concept of the 'path' in connection to her critique
of Western male culture characterized by estrangement and an outward rush to
construct a world that eventually supplants individuals. Running parallel to
this cultural trajectory is the concept of 'return'—a notion Irigaray reworks
in dialogue with Nietzsche—specifically, the impossibility of returning home,
to oneself. To address the crisis of man's identity, she proposes a dual
return, both bodily and culturally, advocating for a rediscovery of almost forgotten
meanings within Greek culture that could offer an alternative path and journey
for men.
This return to oneself, this self-affection, particularly
for man, is intricately linked to a sense of oneness, rooted in the
undifferentiated connection with the maternal world and the dream world
constructed in the absence of a cultivated relationship with the mother.
Irigaray suggests that the first step in this new journey
of male masculine subjective formation involves a cultivation that starts with
reimagining the relationship with the mother in bodily and affective terms. For
instance, in works like "Sexes and Genealogies" and "I Love to
You," Irigaray critiques the male imaginary and its symbolic expressions
for negating the mother's body and reproductive power, the primary nurturing
space, and the maternal relationship to the child. She argues that (male)
language appropriates female puissance, sexuality, and desire, with the phallus
symbolically replacing the umbilical cord, establishing the primacy of the
castration complex in relation to the original separation from the mother.
Irigaray's constructive move is to propose morphological
locations for rethinking man's imaginary in terms of affirming female bodies:
a) the navel as a tribute place and scar memory for the primary bond and home
with the mother (the umbilical cord, placenta, and womb), and b) a radical
reinterpretation of the phallic erection as the masculine version of the
umbilical cord, not as an all-powerful appropriating signifier, but rather as a
repetition of the 'living bond to the mother' out of respect for 'the life of
the mother.'
Consequently, in the context of men, Irigaray's thoughts
on masculine morphology can be further elucidated through various dimensions.
One avenue involves a reconsideration of how men relate to their own sexuate
bodies, steering toward a radically different male imaginary that diverges from
the prevalent phallic heteronormative representations of male bodies. Moreover,
men are urged to reassess their relationship with the mother and her body,
aiming for a representation of this connection that departs from traditional
cultural norms.
Given the construction of male subjectivity through the
cultivation of an interiority via language, there arises a necessity for
linguistic transformations. This entails reshaping language to include the
cultivation of male desire and self-affection through a novel mode of speech.
Consequently, for men, both in bodily and cultural dimensions, the trajectory
of one's path and the return to oneself, serving as the foundational conditions
for that path, emerge as essential aspects. These aspects are integral to
collaborative efforts with women in cultivating a cultural space that embraces
a 'real' sexuate difference.
William Reddy's "The
Navigation of Feeling" not only offers a fresh interpretation of the main
trajectories in French history from 1700 to 1850 but also presents a
theoretical dimension that extends beyond the confines of French history.
Drawing inspiration from recent advancements in cognitive psychology and
cultural anthropology, Reddy introduces a novel approach to the study of
emotions. He envisions this approach not only as a means to enhance our
understanding of historical phenomena but also as the basis for a new
universalist "defense of human liberty".
In the course of his argument,
Reddy transcends the boundaries of the social sciences, delving into the realm
of philosophy. Here, he critiques post-structuralism and extends speech-act
theory, offering a theoretical framework that encompasses both general
principles and specific historical applications. The first part of the book
employs broad terms, establishing a theoretical foundation. In the second half,
titled "Emotions in History: France, 1700-1850," Reddy applies his
theoretical framework to examine changes in "emotional regimes" in
France, spanning from Louis XIV's reign to the July Monarchy. French history
serves a dual purpose—supporting general arguments and providing a platform to
showcase the application of Reddy's theory to concrete historical situations.
Reddy initiates his
exploration by examining recent developments in the analysis of emotion within
cognitive psychology. Scholars in this field have heralded a "revolution
in the study of emotions," challenging the traditional dichotomy between
thought and affect. Reddy argues that emotions can no longer be deemed
inherently irrational merely because they do not conform to linear patterns of
rational thought or exhibit the involuntary characteristics often associated
with physiological arousal. Furthermore, emotional responses are no longer
considered aspects of a biologically predetermined human nature; instead, they
can be learned and unlearned, although such processes are not easily accomplished.
Reddy emphasizes that individuals cannot arbitrarily fashion or refashion any
emotion or set of emotions at will.
The concept that emotions are
learned suggests a "constructivist" perspective, wherein emotional
responses are viewed as culturally determined. William Reddy, who holds a joint
appointment in history and cultural anthropology at Duke University, delves
into this idea, highlighting its resonance among cultural anthropologists.
However, Reddy critically examines the anthropologists' treatment of the social
construction of emotional codes, asserting that much of this work lacks
historical depth and political coherence. Reddy contends that if emotions are
entirely determined by culture, it becomes challenging to recognize individuals
as active agents shaping their lives, and historical change becomes elusive
within such closed structures.
While acknowledging the
contributions of cognitive psychology and cultural anthropology to
understanding emotions, Reddy turns to philosophical theory to establish an
approach that draws on both disciplines while addressing their perceived
weaknesses. He aims to avoid Cartesian mind/body dualism present in some
cognitive psychology approaches without fully embracing post-structuralist
claims rejecting the concept of the autonomous individual. Reddy challenges
post-structuralism by rejecting the notion that language is a "prison
house" of arbitrarily designated signifiers and proposes the idea of
translation. This concept allows for a more nuanced understanding,
acknowledging that language may provide a more or less accurate version of
reality, restoring a notion of individual agency.
With the concept of
translation, Reddy proposes a working definition of emotions as essentially
"translations" of "loosely linked thought material that tends to
be activated simultaneously… and that is too large to be translated into action
or utterance over a brief time horizon". Emotions, according to Reddy,
represent the expression of a "disaggregated self", neither the coherent,
rational ego of Cartesian theory nor the arbitrary illusion posited by
post-structuralist theorists. Reddy then delves into speech-act theory,
suggesting that statements about emotional states be labeled
"emotives." These statements, he argues, have a "self-exploring
or self-altering effect", indicating that expressing emotions through
language may alter them. By making emotive statements, individuals act on
themselves and the world, establishing the conditions for individual agency.
Having established his
theoretical framework, William Reddy proceeds to elucidate the political
implications of his argument. He defines individual freedom as the right to
navigate one's emotions, attempting to chart one's own course. Emotional
liberty, according to Reddy, involves the freedom to change goals in response
to complex, ambivalent thought activations that challenge existing emotional
management. This freedom doesn't entail making rational choices but allows for
conversion experiences and life-course changes influenced by diverse and often
incommensurable factors. Reddy categorizes different "emotional
regimes" based on the extent to which individuals can exercise this
emotional liberty. Strict regimes dictate emotional responses from external
sources, fostering reassurance but hindering adaptation. Loose regimes offer
flexibility but may complicate the definition of a coherent life course. Reddy
contends that strict regimes present an incomplete and contradictory vision of
human nature and possibilities, constituting a political failure that must be
rejected. He asserts that his understanding of emotions and their relationship
to the individual provides a universal standpoint that is neither ethnocentric
nor reliant on an untenable notion of the rational, autonomous self. The
primary goal of any social or political system, in Reddy's view, should be to
minimize emotional suffering to the necessary minimum.
Reddy's approach to emotions
shares commonalities with philosopher and classicist Martha Nussbaum, in her
"Upheavals of Thought: The Intelligence of Emotions," argues for the
cognitive content of emotions and sees political significance in this cognitive
aspect. Nussbaum advocates for the guarantee of emotional development free from
fear and anxiety as a societal capability. While both align with the liberal
tradition of supporting individual rights, Reddy's political program is framed
more negatively, focusing on reducing emotional suffering, whereas Nussbaum's
is broader, encompassing protection for life, health, bodily integrity, and
various human ideals.
Though Reddy and Nussbaum
share a liberal perspective, differences emerge. Reddy's political claims
appear more modest, perhaps influenced by anthropological critiques of Western
notions of human rights, while Nussbaum, drawing mainly from the Western
tradition, asserts a greater confidence in the universality of natural-rights.
Reddy goes beyond Nussbaum in integrating the study of emotions into a
social-science framework and presents an original extension of speech-act
theory through his analysis of "emotive" statements.
However, it remains uncertain
whether Reddy's argument can successfully sway committed cultural relativists.
Like certain groups, such as medieval penitents, who derive spiritual value
from physical pain, there might be cultures where emotional suffering is not
perceived as the greatest evil. Reddy's proposition to measure the extent of
emotional suffering inflicted by a particular regime raises challenges. For
instance, in Unni Wikan's study of the emotional regime in Bali, where
maintaining a cheerful demeanor is emphasized to such an extent that grief for
the loss of a loved one cannot be expressed, questions arise about whether the
Balinese suffer from extreme emotional repression or if their avoidance of
grief protects them from pain experienced by Westerners. Reddy acknowledges
regimes that combine "coercion and liberty", suggesting that some may
be satisfying to the majority living under them. The challenge lies in
delineating between acceptable and unacceptable degrees of emotional
constraint. Reddy maintains that he is not presenting Western liberal responses
as a model, describing the Western tradition as a "promising, although
variegated, failure of world-historical proportions". However, his
proposed solution still appears closely tied, for better or worse, to Western
individualism assumptions.
In the second half of
"The Navigation of Feeling," Reddy employs his constructed
theoretical framework to analyze the emotional regimes in France from 1700 to
1850. This period is considered pivotal for the study of emotions, as, for a
brief period, emotions were deemed as important as reason in politics, and this
idea was subsequently rejected and erased from memory after 1794. Reddy uses this
historical context to apply his theoretical insights.
Reddy's narrative of French
history, while somewhat familiar, offers a unique perspective by translating
the standard account through the lens of emotional regimes rather than
political or intellectual ones. During Louis 14's reign, absolutism imposed a
court etiquette code as a means of social control, influencing emotional
management. In response, individuals sought a private emotional refuge where
sentiments could be expressed freely. Reddy traces how the cult of sentiment,
rooted in sentimentalism, developed dangerous tendencies as the century
progressed. The French Revolution, typically viewed as an example of the
excesses of abstract reason, is reinterpreted by Reddy as a demonstration of
sentimentalism's extremes. The effort to transform France into an emotional
refuge turned into the emotional suffering of the Terror, driven by coercive
pressure to exhibit politically correct emotions. Reddy argues that the Jacobin
regime's demand for perpetual emotional sincerity led to a fatal weakness,
making all individuals feel like traitors. This, he claims, is a point that
neither class analysis nor cultural interpretation alone can provide grounds
for.
While not entirely novel, the
concept of "emotional regimes" offers a valuable lens for examining
historical societies and their impact on individual and collective experiences.
Reddy's work, both theoretically and historically, contributes significantly to
ongoing debates about establishing criteria for the good life that transcend
cultural and dualistic assumptions about mind and body.
Under Napoleon, public
sincerity ceased to be a valued virtue, with individuals exchanging public
conformity to the Emperor's dictates for greater freedom in their private lives.
Nineteenth-century liberals not only rejected the idea of basing the political
order on sentiment but also revised eighteenth-century history to depict
Enlightenment predecessors as consistent rationalists. Reddy observes a shift
where the inner life of emotions was no longer seen as a source of
"natural" impulses shaping institutions. Instead, sentiment was
relegated to a private realm of personal reflection, artistic endeavor, and
interior, non-civic spaces.
Reddy's narrative draws
heavily on secondary literature and writings of prominent intellectuals. In the
final chapter, he examines civil court cases from 1815-1848 to explore how
lawyers and clients utilized the language of emotions. While post-revolutionary
society allowed greater ease of emotional navigation, it came at the price of
pervasive malaise and a sense of shame about the new bourgeois society. Despite
its shortcomings, Reddy contends that this regime was more flexible and
survivable than the sentimentalists' attempt.
However, Reddy's narrative
prompts questions. His account, closely mirroring Jürgen Habermas's narrative
about the rise of the public sphere, raises concerns about its teleological
framework. Reddy interprets the French Revolution and subsequent emotional
regimes as inevitable consequences of eighteenth-century attitudes toward
emotions. This view aligns with the revisionist school's perspective, notably
François Furet, seeing the Terror as inherent in the Revolution's libertarian
rhetoric. Reddy's sympathies lie with the liberal regimes of the early
nineteenth century, despite their limits on political participation and rigidly
masculinist institutions.
An alternative interpretation
challenges this teleological framework, questioning the inevitability of the
Terror and recognizing different emotional consequences of eighteenth-century
sentimentalism and the Revolution. It suggests that emotional freedom was first
posed by the eighteenth-century sentimentalists, despite their problematic
concept of the naturalness of emotions. The interpretation acknowledges that
political traditions were not the sole focus and considers the role of
religion, which Reddy's account neglects. It also highlights the positive
significance of the Revolution for emotional liberty, citing Article 4 of the
Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen and the liberal divorce law of
1792.
Robertson defines
globalization as the simultaneous compression of the world and the
intensification of consciousness about the world as a unified entity. Departing
from empirical generalizations and emphasizing sociological mapping,
Robertson's approach delves into the historical role of sociology in shaping
global awareness. While empirical data are infrequent, the book serves as a
comprehensive survey of how sociologists have tackled the subject.
Sociologists, according to Robertson, have played a crucial role in grappling
with "globality" and contributing to the understanding of global
interactions. The analyses offered by Robertson add depth to the understanding
of the complexity inherent in globality.
The book revolves around four
key focal points: national societies, individuals, international relations
within the global framework, and the concept of "humankind."
Robertson illustrates how these elements are intricately entwined in intense
global interactions. Globalism, as discussed by Robertson, fosters both the
particularization of the universal and the universalization of the particular.
It has diverse effects, including nostalgic antiglobalism, heightened gender
awareness, increased individualism, and influence on intellectual trends like
modernism and postmodernism. Additionally, it challenges ideologically based
interpretations, with Robertson expressing reservations about Wallerstein's
world systems theory. Displaying an open-minded approach, Robertson advocates
for a multidisciplinary perspective, aiming to transcend narrow viewpoints.
In specific chapters, Robertson provides factual
references, such as the exploration of Japanese globality and religion. He
suggests that Japan is of sociological interest as it serves a role in the
contemporary world where other societies' leaders can learn how to learn about
diverse societies. While this claim may be open to debate, Robertson also
highlights Japan's unique ability to assimilate foreign elements like
Confucianism, Buddhism, and Western skills into its indigenous continuities.
Occasionally, he presents snippets of evidence, including a mention of
awareness-raising tourism as a significant global industry. In conclusion,
Robertson commends sociology for its potential major role in theorizing globality
and globalization.
However, the use of highly abstract and verbose
sociological jargon, coupled with extensive discussions of sociological
disputes, makes the book challenging and controversial. Historians might
contest the implicit assumption that sociological theories and concepts played
a major role in globalization, arguing that power politics and invidious
comparisons among states and individuals were more decisive factors. The
multidisciplinary approach lacks completeness, overlooking crucial factors like
geography and population density. The profound cultural disorientation in
developing countries is also not addressed, while Western countries still
benefit from cultural continuity. Robertson acknowledges the complexity of
globalism but may overlook crucial evidence supporting alternative views, such
as world history as a process of global Westernization.
Anthony Richmond's Global Apartheid: Refugees, Racism,
and the New World Order comprises essays that explore the intersections of
postindustrialism, postmodernism, and globalization with international
migration, racial conflict, and ethnic nationalism. The collection includes
previously published articles, providing a nuanced and updated perspective. The
content is structured into three sections: an in-depth exploration of theory,
analysis of key issues emphasizing the multifaceted nature of migration flows
and ethnic relations, and comparisons of policies and responses among Great
Britain, the United States, Australia, and Canada. The final section delves
into the priorities and dilemmas of the postindustrial era, offering
prescriptive alternatives for the evolving global order.
Richmond employs the potent analogy of apartheid to
elucidate the strategies adopted by industrialized countries globally,
including Europe, North America, and Australasia. These regions aim to shield
themselves from perceived threats to their territorial integrity and privileged
lifestyles, primarily stemming from escalating international migration
movements. The nature and scale of migration have evolved due to events and
processes in our globalized, postindustrial society, with an estimated 70
million people living and working in countries other than their own, and over
one million emigrating permanently each year.
Richmond underscores the irony that, while South Africa
dismantles official apartheid, other parts of the world seem inclined to
construct restrictive policies reminiscent of those employed in South Africa
during the 1950s. The justifications for these measures echo familiar themes:
defense of existing cultural and social institutions, state security,
maintenance of law and order, preservation of ethnic identity, protection of
economic privilege, and regulation of population movements. In the
postindustrial society, the metaphorical hedge planted by Dutch colonials takes
the form of armed patrols, data banks, fingerprinting, travel restrictions,
judicial hearings, and policy instruments like the Schengen Agreement and the
Dublin Convention.
The rapid pace of technological advancement, exemplified
by the communication revolution, has facilitated closer linkages and interdependence
globally. Events occurring in one location can set off a chain reaction with
repercussions felt in distant countries. However, globalization has introduced
contradictions into this interconnected world. While money, goods, and
information flow relatively freely across borders, people face constraints on
their movement. Migration pressures arise from shifts in economic growth areas
and displacement due to conflicts. The predominant response has been an attempt
to restrict these movements, labeling individuals as "illegal" or
"undesirable" who might have been previously welcomed as valuable
workers or escapees from oppressive regimes. This simplistic approach to the
complex phenomenon inherent in globalization fails to address the root issues,
and the fortress-like barriers are ultimately unsustainable. Richmond contends
that a system of global apartheid is destined to fail.
In his book, Richmond confronts the challenge of
providing a platform for discussing numerous controversial issues prevalent in
current political discourse in Canada and beyond. Despite the constraints
imposed by the swift and unpredictable nature of change, he successfully
navigates these challenges. Richmond asserts, for instance, that ethnic
diversity characterizes almost all postindustrial societies. The critical
question emerges: Can cultural pluralism coexist with equal opportunities and
the integration of immigrants? As globalization advances, will heterogeneity
persist, potentially leading to the de-territorialization of cultures at the
expense of homogeneity?
In the midst of an era marked by structural
contradictions and the potential for social conflict, the absence of effective
global governmental institutions is evident. The United Nations, in particular,
is criticized for its failure to prevent civil wars across continents. Faced
with these challenges, politicians, bureaucrats, and academics grapple with the
responsibility of formulating policies on peacekeeping, international
migration, and refugee movements. The author emphasizes the need to discard
outdated plans and programs, urging a comprehensive reevaluation of the entire
system on a global scale and fostering international cooperation. Short-term
self-interest must yield to policies that serve the long-term interests of all,
with active participation from people in developing countries.
Richmond argues that absolute state sovereignty is no
longer tenable, as boundaries become permeable and defense mechanisms like
walls, iron curtains, and surveillance systems prove ineffective. Sustainable
development is advocated, with territories and resources held in trust for
future generations. Beyond structural analysis, the author links concerns about
territorial integrity and state sovereignty to individuals' "ontological
security" needs and collective fears of identity loss.
The book provides an extensive empirical analysis of
contemporary catalysts for social, economic, and political change, such as the
legacy of colonialism, economic disparities, superpower confrontations, and
recent shifts in Eastern Europe. The final chapter introduces three alternative
scenarios for the New World Order: nostalgic, pragmatic, and utopian. The
United Nations is positioned within the realistic utopian alternative. While
the author skillfully leads the reader to the realization that there is no
clear exit from the global impasse, the less tangible nature of the
alternatives in the last chapter leaves the reader yearning for a more
substantial conclusion.
The author gives considerable weight to the theoretical
underpinnings of central issues and concepts, providing students with a
comprehensive understanding of the academic landscape. This exhaustive
contemporary work on the impact of globalization and postindustrialization on
migration and racial/ethnic conflict offers thought-provoking insights, making
it recommended reading for students, policymakers, and researchers.
In "Engendering India," Ray explores the
intricate and evolving expressions of gender within British colonial, Indian
national, and postcolonial discourses. Focused on the period spanning from the
1857 Mutiny to the subcontinental partition in 1947, Ray delves into the
construction of the 'authentic woman' of India in four distinct chapters. These
chapters analyze various texts that share a common concern for shaping a
'national space called 'India.'' While many of the writers under scrutiny have
been extensively examined in critical analyses, Ray offers fresh perspectives
that scrutinize the nationalist and imperialist connections between the
domestic and political realms in their works.
Ray's central argument asserts that "after 1857, the
figure of the Hindu woman begins to function as a crucial semiotic site in and
around which the discourses of imperialism, nationalism, Indian
postcolonialism, and feminism are complexly inscribed". The initial
chapter dissects Bankim Chandra's novelsto illustrate the construction of a Hindu identity rooted in an imagined
glorious Hindu past during the early consolidation of the empire in India. This
identity simultaneously celebrates and constrains the power of women.
Moving on to Chapter 2, Ray explores texts by non-Indian
writers such as Harriet Martineau, Meadow Taylor, and Flora Annie Steele. These
authors, in their fictions about the 1857 Mutiny, reimagine India as both Hindu
and feminine, utilizing this rhetoric to impose an artificial unity on a
culturally diverse nation. Chapters 3 and 4 are dedicated to the partition of
Bengal in 1905 and the 1947 subcontinental division. Here, Ray scrutinizes the
interplay between women and nationalism in male discourse through Tagore's
writings. Additionally, she brings forth female critiques of the problematic
male nationalist agenda by analyzing novels by Desai and Sidhwa. Ray's work
sheds light on the multifaceted and complex intersections of gender,
imperialism, nationalism, and postcolonialism in the literary landscape of
India.
Ray's emphasis on the political dimension throughout her
book proves to be highly insightful, as she grounds the literary texts in a
rich historical context. This approach prevents her from interpreting the
literary works in isolation, and she adeptly places them within a robust
theoretical framework. Her theoretical lens pays close attention to the
'differentially positioned' and conflicting imperialist and nationalist
narratives that collaborate in constructing a unified Hindu India and a fixed
female Hindu identity. This method allows her to expose the inherent
contradictions within nationalist discourse and the limitations of both
nationalist and imperialist liberalism in addressing the complexities of Indian
women's issues.
A noteworthy aspect of Ray's work is its relevance to the
contemporary era of global relations and migration, demonstrating her ability
to connect the historical context to present-day issues. The chapters culminate
in a compelling epilogue where Ray explores the implications of gender in
defining the nation-state in the current context. Going beyond literary
analysis, she examines contemporary popular culture, newspaper advertisements,
and everyday fragments to illustrate how multicultural and multinational
economies continue to shape the Indian nation in gendered terms. The book
reveals how age-old rhetoric, such as the portrayal of 'mother India,' is
reproduced and repackaged for Western and diasporic consumption. Ray's declared
objective is to disrupt such representations, positioning her work as personal,
given her identity as an Indian academic in the United States. She sees herself
as having a responsibility to critique the ahistorical nature of scholarly and
popular depictions of Indian women, which profoundly influence their daily
lives.
The book's valuable contribution lies in its exploration
of the linkages between past constructions of the nation as gendered and its
contemporary manifestations in Hindu nationalist discourse. This sheds light on
the ongoing recasting of Indian women through a lens of particular Hindu
nationalism that perpetuates regressive codes of feminine behavior using
culturalist vocabulary. Undoubtedly, Ray's work stands as a significant
contribution to studies on gender and colonialism, South Asian and British
literatures, and diasporic discourses. Moreover, it serves as a crucial
intervention in contemporary Hindu nationalist discourse on gender and
sexuality.
Jahan Ramazani presents a
compelling argument in favor of addressing the notable gap in postcolonial
studies, particularly the lack of critical examination of poetry within the
field. In "The Hybrid Muse," he navigates the poetry of postcolonial
poets such as W.B. Yeats, A.K. Ramanujan, Derek Walcott, Louise Bennett, and Bitek,
demonstrating that poetry offers a nuanced rendering of history and the hybrid
self. Ramazani acknowledges the perceived subtlety, nuance, and obliqueness of
poetry, suggesting that this may be why it has been relatively overlooked in
postcolonial scholarship when compared to fiction or essays.
Ramazani seamlessly moves
between poetry and theory as well as across different cultures. He addresses
the question of why Yeats is considered a postcolonial poet, exploring the
complexities of Irish history under British imperialism. Ramazani highlights
Yeats' use of Irish place names, remaking English forms, and leveraging global
mythologies to create a mythic syncretism that challenges imperialism.
Ramazani contends that poetry
possesses a unique ability to capture the complexity of colonized cultures.
Examining poets like Walcott, he reveals how Western poetry becomes both the
subject and catalyst for innovative techniques in postcolonial poetry.
Walcott's "Omeros" serves as an example of how postcolonial poets
indigenize canonical Western characters, use metaphor to bridge linguistic and
cultural divides, and employ irony to expose both Western and local
hypocrisies. Ramazani's discussion of Walcott's use of the wound motif
illustrates the slippery and polyvalent nature of poetic discourse that
circulates between races, classes, and communities.
In challenging mainstream
American poetry's ignorance of postcolonial poetry and poetics, and pointing
out the oversight of postcolonial literary studies in fully exploring the
richness of poetry, Ramazani provocatively asserts that poetry has ironically
become a minor field in postcolonial literary studies. His work encourages a
broader recognition and exploration of the depth and significance of
postcolonial poetry.
Ramazani's exploration of
Philoctete's wound serves as the foundation for his subsequent analysis in the
following chapters. Examining the wounds of individuals such as the West
Indian, Louise Bennett, A.K. Ramanujan, and Bitek, Ramazani unveils the
intersection of Afro-Caribbean negritude and European vegetation figures. The
local trope of Anancy becomes a vehicle for Bennett to convey the playful and
polymorphous folk wit of Jamaican creole, providing a cure through the use of
irony and metaphor. The transcultural nature of Philoctete's wound and cure,
marked by cultural borrowings, enriches local literary production in the
postcolonial context.
Irony and metaphor, sharing
the concepts of sameness and difference, double vision, and perception with
postcoloniality, are key elements explored by Ramazani. A.K. Ramanujan's
stereoscopic vision through metaphor brings readers closer to a precolonial
past while mocking notions of revivalist nostalgia. The experience of
linguistic and cultural displacement is evident in Ramanujan's work,
emphasizing the weave of alterities within the human family.
Both Bitek and Louise Bennett
demonstrate how local language enhances irony and metaphor, pivotal aspects of
postcoloniality. Ramazani's discussion showcases the innovative poetics spurred
by the postcolonial context and the juxtaposition with Standard English. Bennett's
tongue-in-cheek critique of imperial power and welfare dependence, facilitated
by irony and the folk figure Anancy, creates performance poetry that satirizes
society.
In examining Okot's Song of
Lawino, Ramazani highlights the poet's ability to surpass anthropology,
revealing worlds beyond categorization. The dialectic between the Western and
the indigenous is explored, culminating in the irony of postcolonials realizing
they can never return to a pure, original culture. Ramazani emphasizes the hybrid
nature of culture and language, asserting that the postcolonial experience
enriches poetry, coloring the works of local American or English poets.
Ramazani provocatively
questions the canon of anglophone poetry, proposing the inclusion of Third
World poets alongside confessional, Movement, neoformalist, and experimentalist
poets. By shaking up the canonical landscape and drawing attention to the
prolific output of the hybrid muse across diverse geographies, Ramazani
contributes significantly to expanding perspectives on postcolonial poetry.
The concept of imperialism gained prominence with the
publication of Robson's "Imperialism" in 1903. Lenin's influential
work, "Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism," and the
subsequent revolutionary success in Russia brought this concept and its associated
praxis to the forefront of class and international politics. Throughout the
twentieth century, imperialism haunted the bourgeoisie worldwide, manifesting
as a recurring nightmare in various forms and intensities. Over time, the
conceptions and contours of imperialism underwent changes corresponding to
shifts in societal nature, introducing new forms such as social imperialism
(socialism in words, imperialism in deeds), neo-colonialism, and more.
In the reviewed book, Rajen Harshe explores these evolving
nuances of imperialism, examining representative literature, theoretical
contributions, debates, and the policies/strategies formulated by different
countries to counter this phenomenon. Thematically, the book can be divided
into three parts. First, there is a survey of literature and major theoretical
contributions. Secondly, it contributes to the theoretical discussion on the
emerging role of middle-ranking/intermediate capitalist states playing
sub-imperialist roles in Afro-Asian and Latin American regions, and on the
Gramscian concept of hegemony. Finally, it surveys the emancipatory roles
played by the Soviet Union and the Non-Aligned nations against imperialism.
Theoretical points that have been under-represented or
not critically evaluated are also addressed. The focus on economic, political,
or cultural subjugation/exploitation of one country by another, irrespective of
its internal class divisions, ruling classes, and exploitation dynamics, is
critiqued. The Marxian scheme emphasizes the primacy of class over country,
suggesting that discussions on imperialism should prioritize class dynamics
rather than the country itself. The substitution of class with country is seen
as camouflaging class exploitation within a given society, shifting responsibility
from the bourgeoisie to other societal classes.
The argument contends that the emphasis on the country
obscures the role of the native bourgeoisie as collaborators/junior partners of
the metropolitan bourgeoisie in economic exploitation, especially in the
post-Independence periods of former colonies. The central beneficiaries of
imperialism or neo-colonialism, whether British, French, Italian, or native
elites, are shielded from scrutiny, while the working class in both imperialist
and neo-colonial settings bears the brunt of exploitation without significant
benefits. Therefore, the discussion of imperialism, colonialism, or
neo-colonialism should conceptually focus on class rather than the country.
An additional point requiring emphasis is that the ruling
elite of the neo-colonies, despite the perception of being unwilling partners
of the metropolitan bourgeoisie, are, in reality, willing collaborators. They
have consciously chosen this path to safeguard their property relations from
potential overthrow by the expropriated. Their decision to align with the
metropolitan bourgeoisie, rather than charting an independent or more
revolutionary course, is strategic and protects their interests. There is no
logical reason for them to share markets, natural resources, or surplus value
with the metropolitan elite unless it serves their purpose. The extreme and
critical social conditions in neo-colonial societies make the ruling elite
vulnerable to any spark of revolt that could unite disparate groups against
them, potentially altering existing property relations to their disadvantage.
This predicament compels them to willingly partner with the metropolitan
bourgeoisie, contrary to the perception of unwilling collaboration.
Caution is necessary when discussing the roles of the
Soviet Union and the Non-Aligned nations in anti-imperialist struggles. The
ruling classes of Non-Aligned nations structurally resemble those who had
previously fought for independence alongside their people. Despite changes over
time, their economic and political interests, particularly in securing a
greater share of the market, remain consistent. The ruling classes of
Non-Aligned nations collectively joined forces to pressure the metropolitan
bourgeoisie for enhanced market access. Their symbolic support for independent
anti-imperialist struggles served as a tactical maneuver to strengthen their
bargaining position against the metropolitan bourgeoisie. Unfortunately, the
masses, as usual, became mere cannon-fodder in their pursuit of economic gains.
The case of the Soviet Union is no different, leveraging the anti-imperialist
movement to secure greater market shares from individual nations within the
Non-Aligned blocs and using the collective bargaining power of the Non-Aligned
nations against the West for a share in the global market. This two-pronged
strategy, coupled with the protected market of East Europe, allowed the Soviet
apparatus to sustain itself for a couple of decades, projecting a socially
progressive image. Both the ruling elite of the Soviet Union and the
Non-Aligned nations pursued their economic and political agendas without
genuine concern for the masses. The reviewed book indirectly touches on these
themes but primarily centers around the concept of the country.
The most notable aspect of the book lies in its
theoretical formulations, particularly in its exploration of the Gramscian
concept of hegemony and its analysis of sub-imperialist states in Afro-Asian
and Latin American countries. Regarding the latter, the author contends that
"the capitalist form of development, to varying degrees, was embraced by
diverse Third World states after the Second World War." While these states
partially underwent industrialization, they failed to fully realize the potential
of capitalist development, often exhibiting a combination of capitalist and
pre-capitalist social formations. Termed as intermediate capitalist states,
examples include South Africa, Brazil, India, among others. The characteristics
of these states include being relatively new and autonomous centers of capital
accumulation with intricate ties to international capital, serving as regional
bullies propped up by imperialist states to further their interests, and having
independent agendas, particularly within their respective regions. The analysis
delves into the class formation of the ruling elites in these states and their
roles on national, regional, and international levels.
In the section on "Gramscian Hegemony and
Legitimation of Imperialism," the author concentrates on comprehending the
functioning of the imperialist order, its superstructure, inter- and
intra-state relations, rules facilitating world order expansion, and the
legitimation of imperialist values. The discussion involves the cooptation of
elites in peripheral countries and the absorption of counter-hegemonic ideas.
Applying Gramscian concepts, the author seeks to counter and establish
counter-hegemony, unraveling the seemingly normal and obvious imperialist
values and ideas that provide stability to international capital. Harsh's
utilization of the Gramscian approach enhances our understanding of the
imperialist superstructure.
Rajeswar Rajan's comprehensive exploration of gender,
culture, and postcolonialism is illuminated through the lens of cultural
representations surrounding contentious traditions in Indian culture. These
include the self-immolation of Hindu widows (sati), husband worship,
bride-burning, and dowry deaths. Rajan's analysis of specific texts and films
is positioned within a nuanced intervention in contemporary feminist
postcolonial debates on female subjectivity, the construction of tradition in
minority cultures, and interpretations of resistance and agency in women's
texts and broader social contexts.
The study posits that postcolonial cultures share common
features such as feminist negotiations with the postcolonial state, social
structural inequalities, the influence of nationalism and regionalism, and the
tension between tradition and modernity. Simultaneously, postcolonial
identities are diverse, challenging arguments for essential indigenous
identities and the re-appropriation of colonial subjects by theory.
Rajan draws on selected texts and films to illustrate
that representation holds its own political reality and consequences. The study
contends that culture itself is both coercive and contested, and subjectivities
are continually reinscribed in the cultural realm.
Navigating these topics requires delicacy to avoid
sensationalism and ethical imperatives. The study resists reducing women's
experiences to a "real" pain versus discursive constructions of
female subjectivity. It timely and informatively addresses social debasement,
considering various religious and cultural traditions underpinning practices
like sati.
Sati, with its problematic attribution of motive,
voluntary immolation claims, and lack of testimonies, invites debates on forms
of subordination and ritual intricacies. The complexity of this topic is
embedded in cultural reticence, psychological compensations, excuses, and
ambiguity. Disturbingly, despite its official abolition in 1829, there were
4,386 "wife-murders" in 1990, indicating a tangled web of cultural
pressure, ingrained practices, and self-serving male actions between these two
time points.
Despite Rajan's meticulous analysis of her selected
texts, a deeper exploration of the material aspects of the practices would have
added valuable insights. The study touches upon widows, women, husbands, and
relatives, but there's a need for more exploration into circumstances leading
to death by burning beyond widowhood. Questions arise about the specific rites
preceding and accompanying these practices, the role of economic
pressures—exemplified by modern cases of daughters' suicides due to dowry
concerns—and the origins of the fervor for husband worship.
It's intriguing to learn that Indian women can supposedly
shorten their husbands' lives simply by uttering their names, especially
considering that some only speak their husbands' names at the moment of their
deaths. However, the original sanctions for such extreme forms of subordination
seem to require further examination.
The study provides relief by acknowledging the staging of
the "cultural unconscious" in popular films, involving elaborate acts
of revenge against husbands and abuses of power. The exaggerated fantasies
described align with the magnification of husbands' rights. Rajan wisely avoids
emphasizing cultural differences and relativism but rather focuses on detailed
historical and textual study, highlighting the continuity with Western
traditions that feminists need to underscore.
The investigation might benefit from examining how
India's integration into the global economy, Western intervention, development
and aid practices, and the rural-urban divide may have encouraged practices
that replicate or imitate sati. The study offers examples supporting this
perspective.
Rajan extends earlier discussions of speech and silence
by introducing the concept of "action," a third term with
philosophical and political implications. This adds complexity to earlier
feminist assumptions, challenging the notion that giving women access to public
terrains and rescuing women's texts and voices from historical oblivion are the
sole tasks of feminist critics.
The missing term for women subjected to sati seems to be
"action," and the study raises important questions about measuring
the subjective force of centuries of cultural practice. Sati, taken up in
iconography, signifies repression, ambiguity, and cultural hybridity. It also
signifies a complex relationship between pleasure and pain that warrants
further questioning regarding the cultural continuation of women's ownership in
Indian culture. Economic contexts don't merely replace religious motivation;
they seem to over-determine forms of sati continuation in the modern world and
their self-justification.
Rajan's chapter on Indira Gandhi extends the debate on
the intersection of public power and private realms, challenging simplistic
interpretations of women political leaders as surrogate males or symbols of
motherhood. It questions gendered explanations of political authority and
delves into the paradoxical relationship between Gandhi as Mother India and her
declaration of emergency conditions. The discussion of allegories of power,
women under emergency conditions, and rural village infrastructures and
communities versus the pluralism of modern democracy invites comparisons with
African structures and conditions.
Rajan's study broadly emphasizes areas of intervention in
complex feminist and postcolonial debates, providing detailed readings of texts
and clear summaries of problematic areas while outlining a cultural
construction of female subjectivity that allows for contestation and agency.
The overall direction of her thesis suggests a view of women as
"conflicted subjects and sites of conflict" (135).
However, the general direction of the photographs and
historical occurrences cited seems to portray Indian wives as passive objects
of their husbands' and society's volition, creating a contradiction. This might
exemplify one of the problems she introduces in her discussion: is subversion
located within reading or writing practices? Iconography tends to lead us
towards static contemplation and aesthetic responses. Politics, the
non-essential essence of feminism, appears to require more than contemplation.
"Postcolonial Imaginings" has two primary goals:
the first is to analyze a broad array of canonical and noncanonical texts
associated with the "postcolonial," and the second is to shift
postcolonial criticism toward the "literary." Punter acknowledges
that his book is a mere "shadow" of a more extensive project that
would comprehensively compare diverse postcolonial writings across various
societal formations and languages. While recognizing the impossibility of such
an ambitious undertaking, Punter's latent desire to make broad judgments about
postcolonial literature shapes both the strengths and limitations of his work.
The book introduces readers to intriguing noncanonical
texts, such as Elspeth Barker's "O'Caledonia" (1991). However, the
breadth of Punter's project prevents him from giving due consideration to the
distinctions between individual texts. Consequently, there is a tendency to
flatten the specificities of various postcolonial locations and texts, as
disparate works like Chinua Achebe's "Things Fall Apart" (1958), Keri
Hulme's "The Bone People" (1985), and William Gibson's "Neuromancer"
(1984) are treated equally under a common psychoanalytic framework of mourning
and loss. This leveling out is ironic, considering Punter's sensitivity to
contemporary neocolonialism and his criticism of the globalizing tendencies in
postcolonial anthologies.
Punter's aim to steer postcolonial criticism toward the
literary relies on an interesting but somewhat arbitrary description of the
literary as "the uncanny, as the haunting and the haunted; as that which
resists pinning down, that which will always squirm away and produce 'other',
'unauthorized' meanings." Similarly, his description of the postcolonial
is contingent upon a psychoanalytic discourse, emphasizing a pattern of
"loss and reversal" as its singular defining characteristic. While
these definitions enable Punter to develop compelling psychoanalytic readings
of literary works, they risk oversimplifying the complexities inherent in
different texts and contexts.
Punter's project encounters certain stylistic and
theoretical limitations. The book includes references that require further
expansion. For instance, in the preface, Punter mentions Dipesh Chakraborty's
article "Postcoloniality and the Artifice of History" (1992) without
providing a detailed explanation of its relevance to his own project. In chapter
12, he contrasts a contemporary neocolonial US world order, represented by the
World Bank and the IMF, with Derek Walcott's and Wilson Harris's literary
critiques of global politics. However, he does not adequately develop his ideas
about "a wider international movement" toward an alternative world
order.
Punter's thought-provoking remarks about the ways
postcolonial theorists might fall into the trap of an Enlightenment model of
viewing theory "as the next 'stage' on the path to truth" are
unfortunately marred by occasional misrepresentations of specific postcolonial
critics.
Intersectionality is a term that takes on various roles, being referred to as a metaphor, a concept, a research paradigm, an analytical sensibility, an ideograph, and a knowledge project. These diverse characterizations underscore the term's flexibility, breadth, and complexity, highlighting its relatively recent emergence as a conceptual framework. Else-Quest and Hyde (2016) distill three underlying assumptions present in most definitions of intersectionality.
Firstly, there is a recognition that individuals inhabit multiple social categories simultaneously, encompassing gender, ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, able-bodiedness, and more. The awareness lies in understanding the interconnected nature of these categories, where the experience of one is intertwined with membership in others. In group dynamics, the alignment of multiple attributes, like gender and age, gives rise to diversity-related fault lines, dividing teams into relatively homogeneous subgroups, potentially leading to conflict and performance impediments.
Secondly, embedded within each socially constructed category is a dynamic related to power and power interrelations. Attention to power dynamics becomes a fundamental component of intersectional analyses, acknowledging the complex ways in which power operates within and across various social categories.
Thirdly, social categories are recognized as having both individual and contextual facets. These categories are intrinsically linked to personal identities while also being connected to broader institutional processes, practices, and structural systems. The intertwining of personal and structural implications in intersectional thinking renders the meaning and experiences associated with social categories fluid and dynamic.
Hulko (2009) suggests viewing intersectionality as a "paradigm," encompassing a cohesive set of theoretical concepts, methods of analysis, and a belief system, emphasizing its broad applicability, including the idea of interlocking oppressions. Furthermore, Hulko advocates for using intersectionality as a "lens" or "perspective," representing a narrower, more focused approach to examining the multiplicity of social identities without resorting to additive or reductive methods.
In "Imperial Eyes,"
Mary Pratt explores the theme of how travel writing visualized and shaped
relations between the European metropole and the non-European periphery,
offering an ambitious work that intertwines textual analysis from cultural
studies with the historical context of European imperialism. Pratt's approach
involves using historical context to break down simplistic binary oppositions
such as metropole versus periphery, masculine versus feminine, and white versus
nonwhite, aiming to establish a more nuanced interplay between them. She
employs the term "transculturation" from ethnography to describe the
selective borrowings by one culture from another, framing it as a reciprocal
but unequal exchange. According to Pratt, Europe defines America, is redefined
by America, and Americanists reshape their identities in the light of Europe's
imperial vision. Imperial eyes, as depicted in the text, encompass both
masculine and feminine perspectives, with male and female travelers offering
differing rather than antithetical perceptions of subjugated lands and peoples.
The book, presented as a
series of essays on selected themes and travelers, begins by examining science
and sentiment in the period 1750-1800. The naturalists' scientific endeavors,
based on Linnaeus's system, are portrayed as a conquest veiled in the guise of
passive but "androcentric" observation, reflecting the bureaucratic
imperatives of a bourgeois order profiting from colonialism. In contrast, the
late eighteenth and early nineteenth-century travelers, adopting a sentimental
and autobiographical approach, depicted themselves as suffering heroes
proposing a civilizing relationship with indigenous peoples while serving as
the vanguard of capitalism's unequal exchange.
The second part delves into
the reinvention of America (1800-1850), beginning with Alexander von Humboldt's
influential travels. Humboldt's portrayal of South America as a land of
pristine nature served as a foundation for subsequent male and female
travelers, who highlighted the potential for capitalist development and sought
to improve creole societies within European conventions of middle-class
philanthropy. Female travelers, in particular, focused on the domestic sphere
and addressed social issues within these uplifting conventions.
South American intellectuals,
starting with Humboldt, ironically contributed to Americanist scholarship,
particularly in pre-Columbian archaeology, which was conveyed to Europe.
However, their focus differed from Humboldt's naturalist perspective, as they
were more concerned with constructing a new civil society that preserved
existing hierarchies of class, gender, and race. Domingo Faustino Sarmiento's
reflections on barbarism and civilization in 1845 exemplify this approach,
portraying an authentic Americanist vision as a barbarous consequence of a
violent colonial past and its mixed population, while the "civilized"
alternative merely imitated Europe artificially.
Pratt, with her expertise in
Spanish and Portuguese literature, provides a clear and insightful exploration
of South American themes in the second part. This section draws intriguing
parallels with African travel accounts. In the third part, "Imperial
Stylistics, 1860-1980," Pratt notes that mid-Victorian imperial visions,
both masterful and masculine, persist in late twentieth-century accounts of
Alberto Moravia in Africa and Paul Theroux in South America.
While Pratt deserves praise
for the breadth of her historical exploration, she encounters challenges,
especially in the cross-disciplinary analysis. Delving into the deeper meaning
of travelers' language, she appropriately considers gender but sometimes
simplifies the psychological aspects of her subjects. Rather than recognizing
masculine and feminine attributes as historically informed categories subject
to change, they are treated as fixed psychological realities. This approach,
she argues, mirrors the reduction of foreign lands and peoples to sexual
objects in travel writing. The psychologism in some analyses perpetuates this
practice, underscoring the enduring cultural baggage of sexism and racism.
Pratt acknowledges the difficulty of finding an analytical language that
liberates rather than perpetuates these burdens.
From a historian's standpoint,
the incorporation of the historical context of capitalism in Pratt's work may
pose challenges, not due to the Marxist framework but because of its static
treatment. The bourgeois order is presented as fully formed from the outset,
influencing the natural histories of the eighteenth century. A capitalist
vanguard emerges in the early nineteenth century, and subsequently, capitalism,
portrayed in undifferentiated forms from the late nineteenth to the late
twentieth century, shapes the imperial perceptions of travelers. For instance,
Mongo Park's vision of reciprocal exchange with West Africans is linked to
Marx's ideas of unequal exchange rather than the contemporaneous perspectives
of Adam Smith and classical political economists. Additionally, the role of
Africans in shaping Park's notions of exchange is overlooked as a neglected
instance of transculturation.
A more compelling case for
reciprocity disguising the unequal exchange of capitalism is presented with
Mary Kingsley. Pratt acknowledges Kingsley's cultural relativism, influenced in
part by her gender, which contributed to a more sympathetic view of African
culture. Although recent feminist scholarship characterizes Kingsley as both
pro-imperialist and anticolonialist, Pratt argues that her associates, the
Liverpool traders, sought to solidify conditions of unequal exchange in West
Africa, and Kingsley, along with E. D. Morel and others, discredited early
African nationalists. Unfortunately, "Imperial Eyes" does not
consider African writers in its exploration of transculturation.
While these concerns may seem
like minor points of historical detail, imprecision can lead to confusion. The
identification of Pierre Du Chaillu, Henry Stanley, Joseph Conrad, and Roger
Casement as "hyphenated white men" of dual ethnicity raises
questions. The categorization implies that they were leading critics of empire
confronting Euroexpansionism, white supremacy, class domination, and
heterosexism. However, this characterization raises questions about whether
references to Casement's homosexuality are veiled and, if so, how it intersects
with the bisexuality of Richard Burton or the mysterious sexuality of Cecil
Rhodes, an architect of empire. Both advocates and critics of empire, Pratt
contends, come in various forms, such as white, hyphenated white, male, female,
heterosexual, homosexual, aristocratic, bourgeois, proletarian, brown, and
black. Their choices, as human agents, were shaped by their historical context
and made in light of their self-interest and ideological inclinations.
Over the past decade, grassroots ecofeminist movements
have gained momentum as women globally voice their concerns and resist a value
system they perceive as jeopardizing the Earth and the well-being of future
generations. Notable examples include the Chipko movement in India, the Kenyan
Green Belt Movement, and women leading protests against uranium mining in
Australia and Canada. From the Pacific to Native American territories, women
advocate against nuclear testing's environmental devastation. Worldwide, they
mobilize against toxic dumping, waste incineration, excessive pesticide use,
and unsustainable mass production and consumption.
Despite its tangible impact, ecofeminism faces criticism
and neglect from both feminists and environmental philosophers. Some view it as
promoting a return to Earth Mother ideologies, perpetuating women's oppression.
Others dismiss it as a collection of seemingly contradictory ideas. However, in
Val Plumwood's "Feminism and the Mastery of Nature," a comprehensive
academic analysis challenges these misconceptions, presenting ecofeminism as a
valuable philosophy.
Ecofeminism is often misunderstood and undervalued, given
its youth and ongoing evolution. Plumwood's work, for the first time, provides
a well-crafted argument for ecofeminism's significance, dispelling common
misconceptions.
Ecofeminist perspectives, rooted in examining the
women-nature relationship, offer a paradigm extending beyond gender and
environmental issues. Plumwood contends that ecofeminism reveals the
interconnected mechanisms perpetuating oppression across gender, class, race,
and the natural world.
In contrast to social feminism, which seeks gender
equality without challenging cultural values, ecofeminism exposes how Western
culture upholds an inequitable system favoring men, culture, and mind over
women, nature, and the body. This biased system manifests through historical
shifts from goddess cultures to patriarchal religions, the denigration of magic
to the rise of science, the elevation of reason over bodily experience, and the
colonization of foreign lands leading to today's ecological crisis.
A central theme underscored by Plumwood in ecofeminism is
the prevalence of an unequal and dualistic perspective, serving as the
foundation for various apparent oppressions within Western culture. In
"Feminism and the Mastery of Nature," she meticulously unravels the
mechanisms sustaining this inequality, injustice, and suffering. The book
exposes the polarized worldview that compartmentalizes life, separating mind
from body, culture from nature, and spirituality from sexuality. These dualisms
create a hierarchy where one pole is valued and affirmed, while the other is
devalued and relegated to a realm controlled by the dominant sphere.
Consequently, the body serves the mind, women support men, and the Earth
provides resources for cultural development.
Moreover, Plumwood highlights the denial of the
dependence of valued aspects on the devalued ones. Only recently has Western
culture begun to acknowledge human dependency on the Earth, driven by the
recognition of ecological crises.
Ecofeminism, as Plumwood illustrates, draws from
ecological language to propose that solutions to contemporary crises lie in
restoring a sense of connectedness and relationship with the Earth and our
bodies. Some ecofeminists use the metaphor of a web to depict
interconnectedness, emphasizing our place in nature rather than apart from it.
Ecofeminist perspectives are permeating mainstream
culture, notably in the burgeoning alternative healing movement and the
recognition of the mind-body connection in allopathic medicine. There's an
increasing awareness of the animal rights movement's arguments for equitable
human-non-human relationships. Religious institutions in Britain are engaging
in debates about the intersection of sex and religious practice, prompting a
cultural reevaluation of the division between sexuality and the sacred.
However, instead of presenting a uniform holistic vision,
ecofeminism embraces the ecological principle of diversity, asserting the need
to acknowledge differences. Nature coexists with culture, mind is
interconnected with the body, and men and women differ. Respect for diversity
and difference, devoid of value judgments, within a culture of relationship,
holds promise for a more equitable future.
In "Mestizaje: Critical Uses of Race in Chicano
Culture," Pérez-Torres explores the concept of race mixture among
Chicanos, asserting the significance of a Chicano mestizo voice. He argues that
in the Latino New World, bodies of racially mixed individuals symbolize sites
embodying awareness of social inequity and the resulting contradictions.
Pérez-Torres contends that Chicano popular art, literature, and expressive
culture prominently feature the theme of race mixture or 'mestizaje,' driving
cultural production. The focus spans Chicano popular music, poster art, and
literature, emphasizing the role of mestizo voices in challenging the dominant
US social order.
Pérez-Torres's understanding of mestizaje extends beyond
biological notions of race-mixture to encompass social and cultural phenomena
like 'transculturation' and 'hybridity.' Positioned within cultural criticism's
exploration of contact zones and borderlands, his use of the term 'mestizaje'
with explicit racial connotations stands out. This choice contrasts with Nestór
García Canclini's preference for 'hybridization,' reflecting a broader
perspective beyond biological race and a rejection of the nationalist narrative
tied to the term 'mestizaje' in the Mexican context.
Pérez-Torres embraces 'mestizaje' for Chicanos due to its
explicit racial dimension, challenging mainstream US discourses that often
overlook Chicano experiences of racialization. He asserts the centrality of
race as a critical intervention in Chicano criticism, which tends to focus on
borderlands, violence, and bilingualism. Pérez-Torres sees the racial dimension
of a critical mestizo voice as crucial for revealing the asymmetrical race
relations in US society and empowering mestizas and mestizos to adopt new
subjectivities that address a history of racial conflict. Ultimately,
Pérez-Torres explores how cultural mestizaje embodies both utopian
possibilities of aggregation and the contradictions and tensions produced by
racial mixture, shaping the cultural expression of Chicano thought and
identity.
In each chapter of this book, Pérez-Torres presents a
cultural and political study in essay form, delving into various aspects of the
mestizo voice. The introduction and first chapter lay the foundation for his
concept of mestizaje, offering a detailed examination of academic and popular
perspectives on race mixture. Chapter 2 explores mestizo voice in diverse
texts, including the film Giant and the writings of Oscar 'Zeta' Acosta and
Sandra Cisneros. Chapter 3 delves into the musical realm, analyzing artists
like Los Lobos, Delinquent Habits, and Rage Against the Machine, who
consciously employ formal mestizaje by blending distinct sounds and musical
influences. Chapter 4 focuses on the role of Chicano public art, specifically
poster art, in shaping notions of mestizaje. Chapters 5 and 6 center on the
mestizo body as a site of knowledge, examining literary works by Emma Pérez,
Gil Cuadros, Gary Soto, Victor Martinez, and Pat Mora.
While Pérez-Torres's writing occasionally delves into
theoretical intricacies, his more compelling analyses emerge from close
readings of specific cultural and literary texts. Chapter 3, for instance,
provides a focused and concise analysis of three albums released in 1996 by Los
Angeles musicians, revealing a critical dialogue about Chicano and American
consciousness. Although the analysis leans toward celebrating a Chicano
masculine aesthetic, subsequent chapters explore mestizo and mestiza voices
that challenge normative assertions of Chicano identity, acknowledging the
diversity within this cultural landscape.
The study's primary strength lies in its detailed
exploration of mestizo and mestiza voices. However, this focus may result in a
limitation, as it overlooks a broader dialogue with other discourses on racial and
ethnic self-identification. Pérez-Torres acknowledges that his study aims to
trace how race mixture embodies awareness of social inequity and
contradictions. Nevertheless, his claims about mestizaje's liberatory potential
prompt consideration of engaging with the discursive silences and alternative
perspectives within the discourse. For instance, a comprehensive study of race
mixture for US Mexican origin peoples should address the common discursive
exclusion of African ancestry from the mixed racial heritage of Mexican and US
Mexican descent individuals. Additionally, while many identify as mestizos and
mestizas, others choose alternative racial/ethnic self-conceptualizations, such
as 'Latinos and Latinas,' 'Mexican-Americans,' 'Hispanics,' 'Spanish-Americans,'
'indigenous,' or 'bi-racial.' Engaging with these diverse voices is essential
for a nuanced understanding of Chicano perspectives on race and race mixture.