Frederic Jameson's "The Political Unconscious" (Book Note)

 

     Frederic Jameson's "The Political Unconscious" emphasizes the primacy of a political interpretation of literary texts. Rather than viewing the political perspective as an optional or supplementary method alongside other current interpretive approaches like psychoanalytic, myth-critical, stylistic, ethical, or structural analyses, Jameson contends that it should be seen as the fundamental framework for all reading and interpretation.

 

Jameson acknowledges that his thesis represents an "extreme position," not only within the broader context of literary criticism but also within the realm of Marxist criticism. He rejects pluralism in favor of political interpretation as the singular, non-negotiable approach. He opposes reader relativism, asserting that the political is not just his own preferred interpretation, nor is it the sole "true" interpretation. Instead, it is the very condition, the foundational "absolute horizon" that precedes any act of interpretation. According to Jameson, any interpretation or literary work that fails to acknowledge that "everything is 'in the last analysis' political" (20) is fundamentally misguided from the outset.

 

Jameson's use of the term "political" is flexible, allowing for a range of interpretations. At times, it equates to "social," as reflected in the subtitle of his book. In other instances, it encompasses the broader concept of "historical." When Jameson speaks of the "priority of the political," he means, firstly, the logical precedence of the society, community, or group over the individual person, emphasizing that the private sphere emerges from the public. Secondly, he emphasizes the precedence of the historical over the instantaneous (or the eternal), highlighting that place is a pivotal dimension within the broader scope of direction and meaning. These assertions are not unique to Marxism, and they demand thoughtful consideration rather than immediate dismissal. Jameson's argument challenges conventional perspectives, inviting readers to grapple with the profound implications of prioritizing the political in the interpretation of literary works.

 

Jameson challenges traditional modes of interpretation by asserting the primacy of the political and the historical over individual experiences and meanings within literary works. Jameson contends that neither the social nor the historical aspects of the political belong to the realm of potential meanings within a work. For example, he argues that novels like "Nostromo" are not fundamentally about political upheaval, nor is "Lord Jim" primarily a tale of courage and cowardice, a moral lesson, or an exploration of existential heroism.

 

Jameson is critical of attempts to uncover a singular, hidden meaning within a work, labeling them as attempts to impose a master code or Ur-narrative onto the text. He sees such efforts as diminishing the richness and complexity of the original narrative. He further criticizes various critical "isms" that identify a specific category of meaning as the ultimate signified of all expressive systems. This absoluteness leads to predictable and uninspiring interpretations, such as Freudian analysis reducing everything to psychological symbolism or structuralist criticism declaring that a work is fundamentally about language.

 

Jameson takes issue with traditional Marxist criticism, which tends to allegorize culture to the point where every artifact is seen as a reflection of class domination or economic production. He argues that this approach negates the need for interpretation, as the ultimate truth is already assumed. For Jameson, the political is not a specific content within a work, but rather a structural framework of social and historical relationships. This framework is composed of relations, not tangible objects, and it is the condition for representation but cannot itself be represented.

 

Jameson introduces the concept of the "absent cause," drawing on Althusser's terminology, to describe how society and history function as untheorized, beyond storytelling, and unthinkable structures that are absent from conscious awareness. He challenges the notion of a cure or a moment of conscious realization, emphasizing that structural domination remains beyond conscious apprehension. This raises questions about how Jameson can assert the existence of the political unconscious when it is, by definition, beyond conscious grasp. This aspect of Jameson's argument may be seen as challenging and provocative, prompting readers to grapple with the nature of interpretation and the limits of consciousness in understanding political and historical structures within literary works.

 

The concept of structure and relation is actually quite easily comprehended, represented, and interpreted. This is something that Jameson acknowledges, but it is also a capacity inherent in every infant. The very first word a child utters, "mama," signifies not an object, but a relationship. The idea that relations are somehow less tangible or present than the objects they connect is ironically a remnant of the very tradition that Jameson rejects. This notion, known as nominalism, traces back to the debate between William of Ockam and Duns Scotus. Its more recent iteration was seen in positivism. Nominalism posits that all things exist as distinct particulars in themselves, fundamentally unrelated. It also asserts that thought, comprised of individual mental images, does not grasp relations. The nominalist tradition, with its emphasis on discrete images of separate objects in isolated entities, stands in stark contrast to the essential Marxist understanding of the primacy of the collective and the historical.

 

 

Jameson, like other Marxist critics, delves into crucial questions surrounding class dynamics, the perpetuation of culture in the context of capitalist exploitation, the inherent contradictions within the works of bourgeois writers, the significance of reading as a privileged activity, and the intricate complexities of ideology and utopia. He approaches these issues by challenging the narrow viewpoint of positivist and "normative critical illusion" when it comes to shifts in style, form, and genre. Instead, he reexamines them  through the critical lens of Althusserian theory, scrutinizing not only the literary radicalism of figures like Lukacs and Benjamin but also capitalism itself.

 

Jameson's analysis of modernism and literary history is characterized by an emphasis on discontinuities, viewing them as successive revolutionary ruptures leading up to a final transformative moment. He also incorporates Lacanian psychoanalysis into his framework, examining texts through the lens of unconscious contradictions—the roots of what he terms the "political unconscious." This approach involves using Lacanian concepts to uncover hidden structures that cha  llenge conventional consciousness and personal ideologies, which may not necessarily be directly tied to the text, the author's life, or their psyche. It's an exploration into the writer's fantasy world, posited to exist beyond the confines of the symbolic order, operating on both "real" and "imagined" planes of relation. This endeavor, however, is inherently complex and may yield elusive results.

 

In the theoretical chapter titled "On Interpretation: Literature as a Socially Symbolic Act," Jameson presents a unique development of Marxism, drawing from various Marxist thinkers such as Gramsci, Lukács, Althusser, and Sartre. He addresses common objections to Marxism, demonstrating how they often misrepresent or oversimplify its tenets. According to Jameson, Marxism does not reduce culture to economics, blindly assume the reality of the referent, or totalize without considering the specificities of the superstructure. He asserts that Marxism is not at odds with textualism or formalism, nor is it solely a theory of productivism. Instead, Jameson contends that Marxism is essential to literary interpretation and can benefit from genuine non-Marxist insights.

 

He argues that Marxism has the capacity to encompass and enhance other interpretive modes or systems through a radical historicization of their operations. This means that not only the content of analysis, but also the very method and the analyst become integral parts of the "text" or phenomenon to be explained.

 

Jameson provides a compelling account of how Greimas's structuralism finds its place within Marxist criticism, exemplifying the inclusive nature of Marxism. He outlines a three-tiered approach to literary analysis: the political, which involves studying the symbolic act; the social, which delves into "class discourse" and "ideologemes"; and the historical, centered on the mode of production. The latter serves as the overarching code that encompasses and transcends the others. However, Jameson places particular emphasis on "ideologemes" in the subsequent sections of the book. These are the tactics employed by a text to simultaneously contain and reveal social reality, representing the smallest units of class discourse.

 

While Jameson's theorizing offers significant critical potential, there are some reservations worth noting. For instance, his use of Marxism at times may seem discordant to historians. He makes references to historical epochs or events in a manner that deviates from traditional Marxist approaches. For example, his characterization of "the Medieval system" and the reference to "Thomas More on enclosure" may raise eyebrows among historians and historical materialists. These instances suggest a potential gap in Jameson's grasp of Marxist historical analysis. These anomalies recur throughout the text, prompting questions about Jameson's nuanced understanding of Marxism in a historical context.

 

According to Jameson, Marxist theory stands out as the only radical framework capable of approaching literature in a way that renders it politically relevant, socially contextualized, and historically adequate. He asserts that critics must engage with the world and formulate theories in reference to it. However, Jameson employs a particularly robust use of theory, akin to Marxism, where it serves as an encompassing master code. This, the author argues, is a misstep stemming from an unwarranted assumption about the all-encompassing capacity of reason. No cultural code or social practice, let alone its theoretical representation, can be truly comprehensive.

 

While class struggles and modes of production play significant roles in history, it is a mistake to assume, as Marx does, that all of history can be reduced to class struggle. Similarly, Jameson errs in thinking that the issue is resolved by redefining totalization, following an Althusserian approach, into an "absent cause."

According to Jameson, every cultural text simultaneously fulfills an ideological strategy and a utopian impulse. Even the most manipulative gestures, he argues, contain an attempt to attain universality and envision a better future. By placing culture within the context of the class struggle, Marxism should unveil the ideological content while also recognizing the affirming element. In this sense, thinkers like Northrop Frye and Émile Durkheim, who emphasize the utopian aspect of culture, have valuable insights for radical critics. Jameson contends that the element of collective celebration or festival, inherently utopian, underlies all cultural production, anticipating a classless society. This, he believes, justifies a non-functionalistic Marxist perspective on culture. Jameson aligns with Herbert Marcuse's view in "The Aesthetic Dimension," which posits culture as containing a vision of future happiness that counters the present miseries.

 

Jameson also acknowledges a deficiency in the Marxist concept of ideology related to an outdated notion of subjectivity. The concept of class, burdened with an obsolete view of consciousness, poses a challenge addressed by post-structuralist criticism. Althusser's structuralist correction, Jameson argues, only serves a limited critical function. According to Jameson, a central task for Marxist theory is to reconstruct a "logic of collective dynamics" or a theory of the class subject. Surprisingly, he does not mention the work of Pierre Bourdieu and Michel de Certeau, which moves in this direction. Nevertheless, Jameson underscores the need for Marxism to account for the active dimension of class action on a basis beyond "rationality," as Marx may have too optimistically assumed. The experiences of the past century challenge this assumption.

 

 

 

 

Jameson's familiar emphasis on the theological as an ideological model and a source for thinking about technique, he also highlights the importance of continuous reexamination of Hegel. He offers a flexible assessment of authorial strategies of containment and advocates for a range of working methods, as long as they are accompanied by an acknowledgment of historical limitations.

 

However, Jameson would be quick to acknowledge that cultural criticism cannot rely solely on admiration and cautious paraphrasing. The notion of "the construction of the bourgeois subject in emergent capitalism and its schizophrenic disintegration in our own time" is a flawed, albeit prevalent, slogan. A historically accurate interpretation would reveal signs of disintegration from Defoe to the Gothic within the eighteenth century, with references to a form of schizophrenia as an underlying subtext suppressed by the pressure to engage in synthetic rewriting.

 

While Jameson embraces Althusser's emphasis on the totality of structure as a replacement for simplistic homologies, he cannot entirely avoid "expressive causality." This is evident in his adaptations of Hjelmslev, and especially in his commentary on Conrad's use of the visual as an alternative to the Jamesian concept of "point of view" (pp. 99, 231). His process of historicizing cultural categories may, out of necessity, be incomplete. For instance, in his analysis of "magical" narrative, he stops short at the formalist concept of the "donor" as a crucial narrative position (p. 126), without acknowledging the economic content of the hypocrisy and deceit often associated with the "gifts" in fairy tales and legends.

 

A central argument of the book is that narrative is not mere reflection but a symbolic act, a transformation of preexisting materials. While this emphasis is valuable, Jameson occasionally slips into asserting that the specific act in question always aims to resolve contradiction. While this may often be the case, there is a risk of essentializing and rigidly defining the "literary" within a specific location within a revised "total structure." The functions assigned to the literary may in fact be more diverse than that. This suspicion appears to underlie the concluding remarks on the relationship between ideological and Utopian function.

 

The conclusion of Jameson's argument challenges forms of Marxism that rely on the concept of ideology for demystifying criticism. Instead, he advocates for an approach that combines this strategy with a contrasting "utopian" inclination. Jameson acknowledges the valid criticism that the traditional concept of ideology can be overly functionalist. While Marxism often asserts that culture serves the interests of the ruling class and that ideology distorts social reality, Jameson insists on the partial validity of this notion. He suggests supplementing it with a less instrumental understanding of culture.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ismail S. Talib's "The Language of Postcolonial Literatures" (Book Note)

 

The Language of Postcolonial Literatures seeks to introduce newcomers to the field of postcolonial literary studies, addressing the complex issues surrounding the role of language in postcolonial contexts. However, it becomes evident that the book focuses exclusively on Anglophone literatures, tracing the trajectory of English from its marginalization in eleventh-century England to its establishment as a global lingua franca under British and American imperialism. The narrative suggests that English overcomes resistance from writers in subjugated societies, eventually taking root in postcolonial settings.

 

The book's Anglocentric approach is not unique to the author, as it aligns with a broader tendency in postcolonial studies to emphasize the British empire and the English language in narrativizing the history and culture of imperialized societies. This tendency has historical roots, such as the emergence of "Commonwealth literature" in the 1940s, which initially focused on literatures from white settler colonies but later expanded to include works from decolonized African and Asian nations. The term "Commonwealth literature" was later replaced with terms like "New Literatures in English" and "postcolonial literatures," with a particular focus on Anglophone writings.

 

The book aligns with the theoretical framework presented in The Empire Writes Back (1989) by Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin, which distinguishes between standard British English as a metropolitan language and "english" (in lowercase) as its postcolonial mutation. This framework establishes a binary opposition between colonizer and colonized while homogenizing the diverse ways in which English has transformed in different postcolonial settings.

 

Despite the Anglocentric perspective, the author is not solely responsible for this trend in postcolonial studies. The field itself has been criticized for sustaining cultural imperialism by prioritizing English-language literature and reinforcing colonialist hierarchies of languages. The author, Ismail Talib, appears to accept the theoretical framework of The Empire Writes Back without extensively addressing its controversial aspects, perpetuating the Anglocentric nature of postcolonial studies.

 

In contrast, postcolonial studies should ideally encompass literatures in all languages used by writers from imperialized societies, rejecting colonial hierarchies of languages. Emily Apter contends that postcolonial studies should align with the foundational disposition of Comparative Literature, inheriting its historical legacy without replicating colonialist frameworks. The critique underscores the need for a more inclusive and diverse approach to postcolonial literary studies that transcends the limitations of an Anglocentric perspective.

 

 

The ambivalence evident in the book's use of both "literatures" and "literature" reflects an ongoing struggle between embracing diversity and multilingualism on one hand and succumbing to homogenizing Anglocentrism on the other. Although Talib acknowledges Aijaz Ahmed's critique of the "Anglocentric tendency" and "theoretical imperialism" in postcolonial studies, the subsequent design of the book appears to dismiss these concerns.

 

The section on "Binary Oppositions" further highlights the book's internal contradictions. While acknowledging the potential positive aspects of binary categorizations, the author fails to adequately address the legitimate charges of Anglocentrism and Eurocentrism raised earlier. The book attempts to defend the use of binary oppositions as a conceptual approach, despite their association with colonial and racial discourses. This unresolved tension, coupled with the inconsistent acknowledgment of critiques, constitutes significant flaws in the book's approach.

 

Despite these issues, the book serves as a comprehensive overview of the challenges related to the use of English in postcolonial literatures. Covering various aspects such as the status of English in different regions, debates over its usage, and stylistic transformations, the book contributes valuable insights. The chapter on the stylistic transformations of English is particularly noteworthy, challenging the polarization of "English" and "english" proposed by Ashcroft et al.

 

As a textbook intended for students entering the field of postcolonial studies, the book unfortunately promotes an Anglocentric perspective and upholds a polarized, Eurocentric worldview that echoes imperialist justifications. However, it does hold merit as a resource within the established boundaries of Anglophone postcolonial studies. While it may not be suitable for introductory courses due to its problematic theoretical framework, individual chapters can prove useful for scholars and teachers seeking concise overviews of specific aspects related to language in Anglophone literatures. Notwithstanding significant omissions, such as neglecting Black Vernacular Englishes in the UK, the Caribbean, and the US, the book offers well-researched insights into the designated scope of Anglophone postcolonial studies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nicholas Thomas', "Colonialism’s Culture: Anthropology, Travel and Government" (Book Note)

 

 

 

Nicholas Thomas's book, "Colonialism's Culture: Anthropology, Travel, and Government," challenges the conventional understanding of colonialism as a straightforward political project. Instead, Thomas posits that colonialism is best comprehended as a symbolic, often self-contradictory, cultural enactment. He delves into the various ways in which colonialism manifests and perpetuates itself through representational practices, ranging from missionary biographies to health and sanitation reports to colonial postcards. This approach prompts Thomas to critique recent theoretical perspectives by postcolonial critics such as Edward Said, Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, and Homi Bhabha, who conceptualize colonial discourse as a cohesive and unified totality.

 

The introductory chapter questions the utility of contemporary totalizing theories of colonialism. While acknowledging the critical value of overarching terms like "colonialism," Thomas suggests that scholars may benefit more from abandoning the assumption that the term relates to a meaningful category or totality. Instead, he advocates for an exploration of specific colonial projects, rejecting attempts to formulate global theories applicable universally to all colonial contexts. Drawing on Michel Foucault, Thomas argues for a critical approach to colonialism that is both localized and partial, yet rooted in longer historical developments and narrative traditions.

 

In the second chapter, which serves as a comprehensive introduction to recent postcolonial critique, Thomas summarizes the contributions of Said, Spivak, and Bhabha. He contends that considering colonial discourse as a coherent and unified field is problematic. For example, the book challenges the dynamics of Lacanian psychoanalysis, arguing that the prevailing emphasis on Self-Other relations empties these dynamics of their universal validity. Thomas advocates for a nuanced and contextualized understanding of colonialism, moving away from broad generalizations in favor of specific, historically situated analyses.

In subsequent chapters, Thomas delves into different yet contemporaneous colonial contexts. He examines governmental discourse generated during the annexation of Fiji and explores the writings and practices in the Australian Solomon Islands. Thomas meticulously examines how political contingencies shape colonial discourse, emphasizing that distinct colonial projects yield entirely different modes of representation. This divergence, as Thomas argues, challenges attempts to create global descriptions of colonialism, revealing that efforts to homogenize colonial experiences are inherently flawed.

 

Readers interested in understanding how Christian beliefs influence colonial processes and patterns will find Thomas's exploration noteworthy. He highlights that, until quite recently, scholars have seldom questioned the pivotal role missionaries played (and continue to play) in the colonial process. Missionaries, in their efforts to counter local representational practices, have been seen by postcolonial theorists as contributing to a homogenizing force. Thomas challenges this view, suggesting that the religious beliefs and practices of missionaries may differentiate them in certain historical contexts from other members of the colonizing culture.

 

Thomas identifies a "Christian difference" among missionaries in the Western Solomon Islands, characterized by their "incorporative ideology" rooted in the biblical account of the unity of humankind through God's single act of creation. Christian discourses, particularly missionary writings, mark others as pagans rather than savages or members of inferior races. Missionaries' narratives of conversion, crafted for audiences back home, played a crucial role in fundraising and self-legitimation projects. These narratives often contrast the natives' former state of savagery with their present state of supposed high development. Notably, Thomas distinguishes between missionary and secular concepts of "otherness," highlighting that the former's boundaries between pagan and Christian are mutable, whereas the latter often relies on fixed hierarchies of stable racial difference.

Thomas's differentiation of the representations of otherness produced by Christian missionaries should not be misconstrued as a defense of their work. On the contrary, he is meticulous in acknowledging how the prospect of conversion often functioned as a potent tool for legitimating colonial expansion. The crucial point to emphasize is not that missionary modes of depicting otherness were somehow superior to those produced by other colonial writers. Rather, Thomas underscores that these representations were organized by very distinct systems of identifying and classifying differences between colonizers and the colonized. Simple accusations of racism may oversimplify the complex ways in which Christian missionaries conceived of and represented themselves and the people they sought to convert.

 

 

 

 

Bryan S. Turner's "Orientalism, Postmodernism and Globalism" (Book Note)

 

With the release of Edward Said's "Orientalism" in 1978, the predominant discourse on global development issues underwent a significant shift. Previously centered on economic considerations and exploitation in the Marxist sense, the focus transitioned to the ideological conditions shaping the production of knowledge. Drawing on literary theory and Foucault's 'archaeology of knowledge,' Said contended that the 'Orient' had been systematically misrepresented by European Orientalists, particularly those from France and England. He analyzed this hegemony as a severe form of mental colonization.

 

The impact of Said's influential, albeit now dated, work cannot be overstated. Over the past decade, there has been an abundance of critical postcolonial literature inspired by Said, Derrida, and Foucault. Like Said, these works scrutinize (mis-)representations and propose alternative perspectives on East-West and North-South relations. In response, there has been a continuous stream of both critical and apologetic statements either defending colonial accounts of 'the Other' or cautioning against the relativism and potential nihilism inherent in Said's perspective on knowledge and history. Some critics argue that anti-Orientalists have themselves succumbed to a form of blatant Occidentalism, presenting simplistic and disparaging accounts of Western scholarship.

 

Bryan S. Turner's recent essay collection breaks away from this pattern. Turner engages with ongoing debates on Orientalism and (post-)modernity in a variety of ways, providing a critical yet not hostile perspective on the postcolonial intellectual landscape. He expresses sympathy for the postcolonial project of deconstructing Orientalism but perceives its anti-essentialist or anti-foundationalist epistemology as an impediment to grasping the 'real Orient.' Within the vaguely deconstructivist ambiance of these discussions, every phenomenon is seen as a discourse, and its connection to reality is deemed tenuous. In the latter part of the book, Turner extends the discussion of epistemological challenges related to representation, interpretation, and reliability to non-Islamic ('Western') societies.

The book is organized into five parts, each addressing different aspects of the Orientalism critique and related issues. In the first part, which centers on religion with a particular focus on Islam, Turner challenges the perspective, advocated by scholars like Ernest Gellner, that beliefs are adopted based on logical consistency. Instead, he argues that people embrace beliefs because they help them navigate the challenges of everyday life. Turner also contests the notion of a lack of civil society in Asian states, asserting that this perception is more connected to the domestic discourse on monarchy and democracy since the 17th century than to Asia itself. This section delves into the Orientalism critique, highlighting its potential pitfalls, such as replacing one hegemonic discourse with another and grappling with the challenges of cultural translation.

 

The second part of the book offers an even-handed assessment of the accomplishments of two prominent Orientalists, Marshall Hodgson and Gustave von Grünenbaum. Turner, in critiquing these scholars, underscores his view that religion is primarily intertwined with everyday practices rather than lofty belief systems. The third part, titled 'Globalism,' explores issues related to globalization and relativism, with a specific focus on revitalistic and politicized Islam. Contrasting individualism with Islamism (or 'Fundamentalism'), Turner provides a nuanced perspective on Islam's fate in the postmodern age. Here, he argues for a sophisticated understanding of Islam, rejecting attempts by both Orientalists and anti-Orientalists to depict the 'true nature of Islam' in simplistic terms. Turner emphasizes the need for nuanced interpretations given the complex reality of Islam's responses to postmodernity, an era when grand narratives are no longer considered credible.

In the fourth part of the book, Turner directs his attention to a direct confrontation with the relationship between postmodernity, enlightenment ideas, and the role of intellectuals. He critiques elitist perspectives on mass culture, highlighting a strong implicit nostalgia in 'critical theory,' particularly in the works of thinkers like Marcuse. Arguing alongside Nietzsche, Turner asserts that "the world should not be bifurcated into a world of superior intellectual values and inferior everyday values." The analysis becomes particularly intriguing when discussing Pierre Bourdieu's "Distinction" and the author's steadfast belief in the existence of hegemonic discourses. Turner, throughout, demonstrates a profound sensitivity to the multiple strategies employed by agents in the contemporary pluralistic, or some would say postmodern, context where overarching symbolic hierarchies are lacking.

 

The subsequent essay on cosmopolitanism and nationalism in sociology serves as a splendid illustration of the problems tackled throughout the volume — issues of generalization, comparison, translation, and ultimately, the challenge of relativism. These concerns are addressed more concretely in the essay on the relationship of English intellectuals to the wider world.

 

The fifth and final part of the book offers enlightening essays on the moral and political predicaments of the contemporary age. Topics include the transition from order to risk (as discussed by Beck), ontological insecurity (Giddens), ambivalence (Bauman), and the reflexive construction of the self. While not entirely persuaded by arguments positing this era as one of radicalized modernity, particularly in terms of periodization, Turner accepts the central tenets of such 'theories of high or late modernity.' He connects these ideas to his analysis of Islam in the conclusion of the book.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Imre Szeman’s "Zones of Instability" (Book Note)

 

Imre Szeman’s Zones of Instability challenges the prevailing trend in recent postcolonial criticism, which increasingly focuses on transnational and global cultural movements as the primary arenas for contemporary colonial and neo-colonial struggles. Szeman reorients the discourse by revisiting the seemingly outdated and imaginary question of the "nation." While current debates in postcolonial studies lean towards examining the circulation and management of cultural representations, commodities, and identities in colonial and neo-colonial discourses, globalizations, and diasporic imaginaries, Szeman directs attention to the persistent spatial questions of the nation and nationalist literature.

 

Szeman critically engages with Fredric Jameson's concept of "national allegory," reclaiming it from misinterpretations and redefining it as his own concept of "zones of instability." Rather than dismissing the problematic notion of nationhood, Szeman seeks to re-historicize its significance in the context of globalization, emphasizing its continued relevance for conceptualizing totalizing political strategies.

 

However, this review scrutinizes the potential pitfalls of Szeman's "totalizing" political project, expressing concern about the risk of slipping into ethnocentrism or essentialist historicism. While recent utopic projects on mass political activism have faced accusations of western-centrism and attempting to speak for everyone from privileged academic positions, Szeman's book navigates these criticisms carefully. Despite adopting the language and strategy of "totality," Szeman avoids universalizing tendencies, maintaining an awareness of historical specificities and contextual particularities.

 

Szeman's book analyzes authors from three distinct geographical regions—The Caribbean during its struggle for Federation, Nigeria after Biafra, and Canada in the years after the Massey report—to construct a comprehensive understanding of national zones of instability. These case studies, set roughly in the post-World War II era, represent critical junctures in the formation of nations. Szeman contends that, despite their differences, these scenarios share an acknowledgment of the artificiality of the nation, a construct that nationalisms transform into seemingly natural entities. Moreover, the book suggests that the artificiality of the nation is not seen as an obstacle to overcome but rather as the starting point for envisioning a new nation.

 

Szeman's work presupposes an obligation not to dismiss concepts like "the nation" outright but to grasp their limits and aporias, revealing their radical potential for resistant politics. In doing so, he challenges readers to engage with these concepts critically rather than consigning them to oblivion, ultimately offering a nuanced perspective on the intersections of literature, postcolonialism, and the enduring relevance of the nation.

 

Imre Szeman's concept of zones of instability not only embraces Fredric Jameson's "national allegory" but also extends it in the context of contemporary globalization theory. Szeman argues that globalization has not so much changed things as it has ideologically and structurally transformed them. Despite the challenges posed by globalization, Szeman contends that the problematic of the nation, with its diverse discourses, spatialities, ideologies, and collective consensual hallucinations, cannot be summarily dismissed as irrelevant. Instead, he posits that it has evolved into multiple, shifting questions of political, biopolitical, and economic collectivity within the network structures of the contemporary global sphere. Far from rendering national allegory useless, globalization, according to Szeman, makes it an increasingly vital interpretive mode or problematic.

 

In contrast to critics who have dismissed Jameson's "national allegory" as western-centric, Szeman argues that it cannot be easily reduced to such a characterization. He rehabilitates the concept's quasi-utopic totality, asserting that it offers a means of understanding how postcolonial nationalist literatures utilize an allegorical model of the nation — one with defined spatial limits but no transcendental essence or stability. This model serves as an aporetic political lever for fighting decolonization, freedom, and rights, and sometimes as an objective in itself.

 

Szeman's argument, as presented in "Zones of Instability," implicitly advocates for totality, not in the sense that legitimates theories of modernization or development but as a construction by an antitranscendental and antiteleological insurgent science. This science is open, akin to the world of possibility and potential. Totatility, in this study, emerges as the possibility of metacommentary, not merely as a secondary step in interpretation but as a condition of interpretation itself. National allegory, according to Szeman, names the condition of possibility for metacommentary that considers the problematic of the nation.

 

Rather than outrightly dismissing nationalist identity politics, Szeman proposes a more nuanced and rigorous method of reading and engaging with nationalist literary projects. He suggests approaching them as the possibility of metacommentary, where literatures contemplate the problematic of the nation in a fictive literary mode as a potential vector for imagining totalizing nationalist and decolonizing politics.

 

Szeman's book argues that the nation, in the case studies he examines, is intricately linked with the projects of nationalist literature. He asserts that the concept of the nation in postcolonial literature must be seen as a figure intricately related to the practice of literature itself in these regions — encompassing its possibility, political efficacy, and potential to transcend divisions between intellectuals and the people, forming new polities in the decolonizing world.

 

Nationalist literature, according to Szeman, acts as the intellectual adhesive capable of uniting the disparate and paradoxical zones of the nation and its people. In this framework, the writer of postcolonial literature emerges as a desiring "organic intellectual" who both destabilizes and creates the potential and promise of national collectivity through literary or critical endeavors.

 

Szeman emphasizes that his totalizing concept of zones is not an attempt to speak universally for all postcolonial political spaces but rather a reevaluation of the spatial questions introduced by postcolonial theory and literature. His concept of zones aims to keep its own totalizing project receptive to the historical, cultural, and geographical specificities of any given national imaginary. The case studies Szeman engages with view the nation as fundamentally artificial or fictional, understanding this artificiality as the source of its precariousness, power, and promise.

 

Similar to Sneja Gunew's deconstructive concept of "multi-cultural-ism," Szeman rethinks the spatial concept of nationhood as an "imagined community" closely tied to literary production. He illuminates the nation's multiple, competing fictions about its own spaces, or discursive "zones," challenging the dominance of any one discursive zone over the others.

 

Szeman's concept of zones reconsiders projects of nationhood taken up by writers of postcolonial nationalist literature as ongoing attempts to negotiate the multiple, heterogeneous, and contradictory discourses and practices within which they operate. These zones represent unique spaces of literary, historical, and discursive practices, bearing the traces of particular historical, social, and cultural trajectories, while being linked by their common tie to the British Empire.

 

Zones are described as highly discursive spaces, intellectual fields that materialize as reified sites of real, material productions of national and post-national spaces and imaginaries. Szeman acknowledges the risk of falling into essentialist historiography with the demarcation of particular national zones. Nonetheless, he argues that the nation's spectral persistence in contemporary globalization and its enduring role in postcolonial imaginaries demand a reconsideration of hidden spatial infrastructures.

 

Szeman's book demonstrates the importance of analyzing the specter of nationhood in the contemporary global sphere within postcolonial criticism. By rethinking the nation as multiple, heterogeneous, and discursive zones, the book sheds light on hidden power dynamics that might otherwise go unnoticed in the field of postcolonial cultural studies. Szeman's intervention underscores the continued importance of the nation as a site of contestation, struggle, and potential for totalizing decolonizing politics in the context of globalization.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lunsford and Ouzgane, "Crossing Borderlands: Composition and Postcolonial Studies" (Book Note)

 

"Crossing Borderlands" offers a vibrant portrayal of the evolving landscape of English studies. The essays within it grapple with the challenge of defining and situating postcolonial studies within or in connection to this field. Perspectives vary, oscillating between the difficulty of confining postcolonial studies' interdisciplinary nature to a definition based solely on methodology or the object of study, as observed in Deepika Bahri's essay. There's also an implicit definition that often presents it as interchangeable with or as a sub-field of literary studies.

 

The application of this second definition is particularly intriguing, as it places the collection's project in the context of a heated debate regarding the relationship between composition and literary studies. At its core, the collection raises a crucial question: given the shared commitments of postcolonial and composition studies, why hasn't there been more meaningful exchange between the two disciplines?

 

In her incisive opening essay, Min-Zhan Lu suggests one answer lies in the close association of postcolonial studies with literary studies. Lu contends that the historical dichotomy between literature and composition, as well as research and teaching, creates a challenge for those advocating radical perspectives within English Studies. Lu coins the term "the ungrateful receiver" to describe the position one assumes in confronting the field's pressure to assimilate composition teachers into adopting the tenets of literary theories.

 

Essays by scholars like Lunsford, Susan C. Jarratt, Martin Behr, and Jaime Armin Mejia delve into the necessary intersection between postcolonial and composition studies. They make visible the structures of oppression inhibiting writers' agency while emphasizing the liberatory potential of writing. Rather than pigeonholing composition studies as merely the "other" to literary or postcolonial studies, contributions such as R. Mark Hall and Mary Rosner's examination and critique of Mary Louise Pratt's concept of "contact zones" and Louise Rodriguez Connal's study of hybridized language and identity among Meztizo/a writers showcase how theoretical and empirical work in both domains can be mutually beneficial. These essays not only offer scholars and teachers unique ways to engage with existing theoretical concepts but also provide practical insights into immediate historical and political realities.

 

Several other essays in the collection offer valuable insights into expanding the discussion beyond literature and the social contexts of students, shedding light on how scholars and educators navigate spaces influenced by postcolonial power structures. In the creative critical essay " (Im)migrant Crossings," Aneil Rallin communicates his experiences as a Visiting Assistant Professor of English, an "alien" from the third world, and a queer individual, expressing and addressing the challenges of inhabiting multiple positionalities. David Dzaka, in "Resisting Writing: Reflections on the Postcolonial Factor in the Writing Class," draws on his multilingual educational background in Ghana to explore the causes and consequences of resistance to academic writing. Both essays contribute powerful insights, demonstrating how postcolonial and composition theory can disrupt the dichotomy between creative and analytical writing, as well as research and teaching. They also prompt a reevaluation of the intricate power dynamics within academia, including relationships between faculty (adjunct and tenured), university institutions, lecturers, teaching assistants, instructors, administrators, and English studies vis-à-vis other academic fields.

 

The collection raises two thought-provoking questions: Is every classroom a "postcolonial classroom," and to what extent can postcolonialism and multiculturalism be intertwined? Pamela Gay's intriguing case study of a "flare-up" in a listserv discussion during her 1995 graduate course underscores the potential trauma associated with bringing issues of "voice" and postcolonialism to the forefront in the classroom. Gay argues that while such experiences can be potentially traumatizing, they also offer instructive opportunities. She emphasizes that to confront colonial inequality and strive for a more critical, dialogic pedagogy, acknowledging, tolerating, or celebrating difference is not enough—difference needs active engagement. Gay suggests that the postcolonial classroom, exemplified by her graduate course focused on "voice" and postcolonial perspectives, provides an ideal space for students and teachers to grapple with ideas and each other. Her insightful analysis of the "flare-up," along with her attention to student voices, models a pedagogical approach that prompts us to consider whether certain classrooms could serve as optimal sites for a postcolonial pedagogy that embraces the challenges of inducing struggle and potential trauma. Implicit in her exploration is the question of why not pursue such an approach, emphasizing the ethical responsibilities of teachers within the realms of postcolonial and composition studies and their shared commitment to advocating for student agency and individual expression.

 

The question of whether the encounter with Otherness can be distinctly addressed by postcolonial studies, especially given the field's lack of a clear definition, is a central concern. Bahri cautions against the common slippage between postcolonialism and multiculturalism, a phenomenon that often results in a flattening of the projects of both fields. She argues that euphemistically naming the margin can be a way of avoiding discomfort and diverting attention from the critical issues of marginality, otherness, and historical particulars that demand attention.

 

In her essay, "The New Literacy/Orality Debates: Ebonics and the Redefinition of Literacy in Multicultural Settings," C. Jan Swearingen explores the backlash against multiculturalism in schools, aiming to uncover the racist underpinnings of attempts to diffuse or suppress what she identifies as parallel projects of postcolonialism and multiculturalism. The collection concludes with Swearingen's admonition that mindlessly celebrating difference or nostalgically returning to homogeneity are equally untenable. She urges a collective search for a middle way, emphasizing the need for commitment to its construction.

 

Within the overarching theme of creating a "borderland" of possibility between theory and praxis in each essay, Swearingen's call for "a middle way" aligns with Lu's polemical call to arms. It presents a challenge, akin to what Gay might term an invitation to struggle. This challenge is directed at scholars and teachers in both postcolonial and composition studies, urging them to persist in "crossing borderlands." Swearingen's plea for a nuanced, thoughtful approach becomes a rallying point for a continued exploration of ethical and practical strategies for engaging with Otherness in a manner that transcends simplistic celebrations or dismissals, emphasizing the shared responsibilities of scholars and educators in these interconnected fields.

 

 

 

Stratton's "Contemporary African Literature and the Politics of Gender" (Book Note)

 

 

Florence Stratton's thesis in "Contemporary African Literature and the Politics of Gender" asserts that the "dialogic interaction between men's and women's writings is one of the defining features of the contemporary African literary tradition". Stratton initiates her argument by illustrating the omission of African women's writing from male-produced constructions of African literature. Examining writers from East and West Africa (excluding South Africa), both in English and in translation, she explores how African women writers engage with literature by men and the dominant patriarchal discourse of gender. While acknowledging a theoretical debt to Fredric Jameson's "The Political Unconscious" and Abdul R. JanMohamed's "Manichean Aesthetics," she revises their ideas to incorporate gender considerations.

 

Stratton's book is organized into three sections: "Aspects of the Male Literary Tradition," "Room for Women," and "Men Write Back." In "Aspects of the Male Literary Tradition," she first delves into Chinua Achebe's "Things Fall Apart," highlighting how Achebe, while focused on countering European racism, neglected to address African or European sexism. The following chapter in this section discusses 'The Mother Africa Trope,' identifying the national subject as male, relegating women to an association with Africa and subjecting them to male domination. This trope is traced through various male writers and movements, including Ngugi wa Thiong'o, Okot p'Bitek, Ousmane Sembène, Camara Laye, Nuruddin Farah, Wole Soyinka, and Mongo Bed. The middle section devotes chapters to African women writers Grace Ogot (Kenya), Flora Nwapa (Nigeria), Buchi Emecheta (Nigeria), and Miriama Bâ (Senegal). Each chapter explores how these women's works challenge the male tradition and dominant tropes of womanhood, examining how gender issues influence their production and reception. The final section scrutinizes Ngugi's "Devil on the Cross" and Achebe's "Anthills of the Savannah"  as partially successful attempts to engage in a dialogue with women and "transform the status of women from that of object to that of subject."

"Contemporary African Literature and the Politics of Gender" is a readable, well-argued, thoroughly researched, and balanced feminist work that sheds light on the integral role of women's writing in the African literary tradition and the dominant discourse of gender. Florence Stratton's contribution makes it challenging for critics to continue marginalizing this writing. While acknowledging the book's feminist agenda, it is evident that the work is thoughtful and fair in its approach.

 

The author addresses the limitations inherent in any book attempting to cover all contextual discourses of a text, emphasizing that her primary concern is with gender discourse. She acknowledges the interconnectedness of various discourse systems and the need to understand them in relation to one another. However, there is a concern raised about the book's production primarily for the Western academy. Biodun Jeyifo's observation about the shift of African literary study away from Africa to Europe and America is noted, and while Stratton spent a significant time in African discourses, there is a call for more nuanced considerations of the specificity of Western and postcolonial feminisms.

 

Stratton's effort to integrate women's writing into the African literary tradition is commendable, although there is a suggestion that she might overlook the potential risk of interpreting African women's resistance through a Western feminist lens. The need for more work on distinguishing the specificities of Western and postcolonial feminisms is highlighted.

 

While the book successfully discusses a few women writers in detail, there is a desire for more attention to writers like Ama Ata Aidoo, who holds a significant position in African literature and was recognized with a Commonwealth Writers Prize in 1992. Despite minor quibbles, Stratton's work has undeniably solidified the critical position of African women's writing and is predicted to reshape the landscape of African studies.

Hansen and Stepputat, "States of Imagination: Ethnographic Explorations of the Postcolonial State" (Book Note)

 

The state may have regained prominence, but "States of Imagination" serves as a compelling reminder of the value in revisiting this terrain. The book presents ethnographies of states within various postcolonial settings, a notable contribution given the scarcity of theoretical attention to states outside European contexts. This collection is particularly significant for state theories as it challenges the prevailing myths of state coherence and sovereignty. It fosters skepticism towards oversimplified distinctions, such as European versus Third World states, state versus society, modernity versus tradition, and liberal versus authoritarian states. Instead, it unravels postcolonial states as arenas for political and cultural struggles, with noteworthy contributions from authors like Mitchell Dean, Thomas Hansen, David Nugent, Finn Stepputat, and Fiona Wilson.

 

In the coauthored introduction, editors Thomas Blom Hansen and Finn Stepputat position their approach between Gramsci's insights into the inherently politically charged and violent nature of the state and Foucault's focus on the disciplinary and dispersed strategies of power and governance. The outcome, as they argue, is a "denaturalized" and disaggregated understanding of states. Throughout the essays, the postcolonial state emerges as defragmented, characterized by porous boundaries, vexed by inconsistencies and contradictions, and continually symbolically recreated. It is viewed as unstable yet invested with considerable, albeit not absolute, power. The editors conceptualize the state in terms of both symbolic functions, signifying its role as the locus of governance and authoritative power, and practical functions, encompassing the assertion of territorial sovereignty, management of knowledge about the population, and the development and control of the national economy. Instead of portraying postcolonial states as inherently "weak" or "failed," the editors advocate for scholars to grapple with the global inclination to establish national states. They urge a focus on contextual, detailed, and discrete state practices and techniques, moving away from stagnant characterizations.

 

The thirteen essays comprising this collection delve into the themes outlined in the introduction. Examining various ethnographic sites, including the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (SATRC) and state formation in Ecuador, the essays are categorized into three sections: state and governance, justice, and community. A recurring theme across these essays is the exploration of the intricate connections between the state and society, prominently featured in contributions by Akhil Gupta, Lars Buur, Thomas Blom Hansen, Oskar Verkaaik, and Rachel Seider.

 

Despite critics characterizing the SATRC as an arm of the South African state, Buur contends that the SATRC had to paradoxically assert its independence from both state and society to symbolically transform both entities successfully. The essays also shed light on how examining ideas of community in relation to the state, as seen in the works of Nugent, Stepputat, and Martijn Van Beek, enhances our understanding of the establishment of normative boundaries within the otherwise porous realm of state and civil society. Nugent's analysis of the Chachapoyas in northern Peru illustrates how perceptions of modernity's corrosiveness and the compromised national state prompted the Chachapoyanos to represent themselves as a separate, racially distinct, premodern folk community—a representation contingent on perceptions of the state and, paradoxically, a product of modernity.

 

These essays tend to explore nuanced power dynamics and resistance, emphasizing the uneven nature of power and the ongoing struggles within societies. Gupta's examination, mapping points of surveillance and resistance in the Integrated Child Development Services program, reveals a reciprocal, albeit uneven, interplay between state agents, "voluntary workers," teachers, and service recipients. In Rachel Seider's analysis, efforts to foster more inclusive citizenship in Guatemala, marked by class and racial differences, are situated within the contestations between Mayan communities and the state.

 

By breaking down and contextualizing understandings of postcolonial states, many essays in this collection focus on the routine, everyday practices of the state. Verkaaik, for instance, extends this approach to the "view from below" by gathering perspectives from Muhajirs in Hyderabad and Karachi, challenging the notion that social unrest in Pakistan solely stems from collapsed state authority. Instead, he argues that attributing social unrest solely to the state oversimplifies complex societal changes and misses broader transformations occurring within society.

 

Equally significant are the structural and spectacular dimensions of postcolonial states. Sarah Radcliffe, for instance, scrutinizes how the state actively constructs notions of territory and sovereignty in Ecuador. Steffen Jensen delves into the strategies employed by the ANC to normalize the South African state, while Alette Norval examines representations of national identity and memory at the core of the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (SATRC). Spectacles like the SATRC (explored by Buur and Norval), the Srikrishna inquiry commission investigating the 1993 Mumbai riots (discussed by Hansen), and Fiestas Patrias, Peru's Independence Day (analyzed by Wilson), serve as pivotal moments for comprehending ongoing state representations and their underlying strategies and techniques.

Bery and Murray's "Comparing Postcolonial Literatures:Dislocations" (Book Note)

 

In an era marked by sharp criticism directed at the term "postcolonial" and the associated scholarship, one cannot help but question the enthusiastic embrace of it by editors of collections, as observed in the reviewed work, and by authors of monographs and essays. This eagerness might be attributed, as some have suggested, to the perception that anything labeled as "postcolonial" has market appeal. Additionally, the term's versatile use allows for the juxtaposition of analyses of literatures from settler colonies like Australia with those from Africa or India. More recently, Ireland, Scotland, Latin America, and the US have also been presented as candidates for inclusion in postcolonial discourse. Consequently, some scholars within the realm of postcolonial studies have expressed a desire to abandon the term altogether, given that its critical utility has been rendered virtually incoherent.

 

Frequently employed to denote a temporal condition, for which terms like "post-independence" or "negotiated independence" (as articulated by Gayatri Spivak) or "neocolonialism" might be more precise, postcolonial, for some of its prominent theorists, more aptly defines an epistemological stance and critical practice. This stance signifies knowledge and strategies of representation that emerge "as an aftermath," or "after being worked over by colonialism." These postcolonial perspectives are deeply entwined with the technologies of colonial knowledge and representational practices, actively seeking to undo the structures of colonialism while simultaneously inhabiting them, as explained by Gyan Prakash in his work on Subaltern Studies as Postcolonial Criticism

Comparing Postcolonial Literatures: Dislocations exemplifies several of the tendencies outlined previously. Originating from a conference on postcolonial literatures at the University of North London, the collection endeavors to address the lack of attention to linguistic boundaries, the situation of the British Isles, non-British colonial formations, and cross-cultural influences predating modern colonialism. Casting a wide net, the collection encompasses essays on Ireland (4), Scotland (1), the Indian subcontinent (1), Latin America (1), Australia (1), the anglophone and francophone Caribbean (4), Africa (1), and the US (3). The essays, drawing from diverse geographical and historical contexts, frequently engage with the term "postcolonial" in the senses described earlier. The deployment of the term often centers on Homi Bhabha's definition of hybridity, signifying ambivalence in colonial discourse, displaced by the colonized to signal their creative energies and agency.

 

While addressing concerns such as migrancy, diaspora, and internal exile, with a broader focus on border-crossings and cross-cultural phenomena, most essays in the collection primarily offer readings of individual works. Only two essays, by Patricia Murray and Nara Araujo, approach something akin to comparative analysis. Despite the editors' assertion regarding the necessity of a comparative study of linguistic and cultural formations resulting from various colonialisms, the collection falls short of delivering on this promise. Although it claims to embody dislocation both as a subject matter and formal strategy within the essays, presenting itself as distinct from the current constitution of postcolonial studies, it largely repeats the critical maneuvers used to categorize a growing body of work as postcolonial. As a result, the promise of genuine dislocation in the collection remains largely unfulfilled.

David Spurr's "The Rhetoric of Empire: Colonial Discourse in Journalism, Travel Writing and Imperial Administration" (Book Note)

 

The conclusion of European colonialism marked the emergence of poststructuralism, as asserted by David Spurr. This transition not only signified the end of colonialism but also coincided with the conclusion of Modernism, ushering in a wave of innovative studies dedicated to reinterpreting the history, politics, psychology, and language of colonialism. Scholars within literary studies underwent a significant paradigm shift, moving from interpreting literary works primarily as expressions of Western ideals to reading them as evidence of how these ideals contributed to the historical process of colonization.

 

"The Rhetoric of Empire" serves as an introduction to this new literary paradigm, dedicating a chapter to each of the 12 rhetorical modes—distinct ways of depicting non-Western peoples. Drawing on the influences of Heidegger, Foucault, and Derrida, Spurr extends his analysis to incorporate the perspectives of Edward Said, Christopher Miller, Patrick Brantinger, James Clifford, Marianna Torgovnick, Mary Louise Pratt, Sara Suleri, Ashis Nandy, Gayatri Spivak, and Homi Bhabha. Leveraging his background as a former correspondent for United Press International, Spurr uniquely extends these analyses into the nonfictional realms of literary and popular journalism, travel writing, and the memoirs of colonial officials.

 

The book explores various rhetorical modes in sequence, encompassing surveillance, appropriation, aestheticization, classification, debasement, negation, affirmation, idealization, insubstantiation, naturalization, eroticization, and resistance. For instance, in the chapter on surveillance, Spurr begins with Foucault's notion that authority observes while remaining invisible. The gaze of authority scrutinizes the slave or subject, who, in turn, is denied the privilege of looking back. Illustrating this principle, Spurr cites passages from James Agee on black sharecroppers in the American South during the 1930s and compares them to news reports from El Salvador and Vietnam by Joanne Omand in 1982 and Mary McCarthy in 1967, all addressing the overwhelming and potentially destructive effect of the gaze. The analysis then extends to Bentham's Panopticon, showcasing the panoptic principle in journalistic descriptions of colonial landscapes, rooms, and bodies. Vivid examples are drawn from the writings of Henry Morton Stanley, V. S. Naipaul, Rudyard Kipling, and Orville Schell. The chapter concludes by highlighting statements expressing the desire for systematic visual knowledge of non-Western peoples by Johannes Fabian, Pierre Bourdieu, and Andre Malraux, setting the stage for the subsequent chapter on the appropriation of colonial resources.

When simplified, the work may come across as an anthology of postmodern clichés. However, such a characterization falls short because a summary cannot adequately convey the depth of context, illustration, and the inevitable parallels that can be drawn with English and American fiction classics. Conrad, whether explicitly mentioned or not, looms over virtually every page. Despite its engaging nature, the book is elementary in the most positive sense—clear, fundamental, and instructive.

 

Spurr adopts the role of a literary journalist, taking major theories of colonial discourse, providing a distinctive organization and illustrations, and infusing the entire work with the zest of his own style. The book reaches a fitting culmination in its final section, where Spurr endeavors to move beyond Heidegger's "restructuring," Foucault's "resistance," and Nandy's "revaluation" towards a theory that explores how the discourse of colonialism can be transformed into a discourse of human liberation. While this chapter may not be the most successful in the book, Spurr proves valuable in delineating the persisting challenges. His suggestions encompass a focus on language, a self-awareness regarding perspective, and a keen understanding of interests—discerning who benefits in each transaction. Yet, as with the entire book, the richness lies in the details.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joseph E. Stiglitz, "Globalization and its Discontents" (Book Note)

 

The central premise of Globalization and its Discontents is straightforward: pro-globalization policies can yield substantial benefits if implemented judiciously, with due consideration for the unique characteristics of each country. Countries should embrace globalization on their own terms, accounting for their individual history, culture, and traditions. However, poorly designed or universally applied pro-globalization policies can be detrimental, leading to increased instability, heightened vulnerability to external shocks, reduced growth, and elevated poverty.

 

Stiglitz contends that the problem lies in the hasty and inequitable implementation of globalization. Liberalization policies have been introduced too quickly, in an incorrect sequence, and often based on inadequate or flawed economic analyses. Consequently, he argues, we are now witnessing dire consequences, including rising destitution, social conflict, and widespread frustration. Stiglitz places the blame on the IMF, its "market fundamentalists," the "Washington Consensus," and the US Treasury.

 

According to Stiglitz, in the early 1990s, the IMF, World Bank, and the US Treasury collaborated in what he sees as a kind of global economic reform conspiracy—the infamous "Washington Consensus." However, this perspective oversimplifies the situation and overlooks the evolution of reform thinking over the last two decades. In the 1980s and early 1990s, policymakers in many developing nations were often more progressive than the multilaterals or the Treasury. Countries like Argentina, Chile, and Mexico, for instance, implemented reforms based on a "national consensus" that was more imaginative and far-reaching than what Washington bureaucrats were willing to accept at the time. The IMF initially criticized Chile's social security reform, opposed Argentina's currency board, and was skeptical of Mexico's trade-opening strategy during the mid-1980s. Stiglitz contends that the emphasis on how to undertake economic reform originated from a group of developing countries' economists, particularly from Latin America, rather than from the multilaterals.

 

Stiglitz's critique of globalization focuses on three interconnected policy issues: (1) Ignoring crucial aspects of the sequencing and pace of reform during the 1990s, leading to overly fast and improperly ordered implementations. Stiglitz favors a gradualist approach. (2) The significant mistake of advocating and imposing capital account liberalization. (3) The IMF's response to crises, particularly the East Asian crisis, which he deems a disaster that exacerbated problems. Imposing fiscal austerity and raising interest rates, according to Stiglitz, were detrimental mistakes that cost East Asian countries several points in terms of growth. Consistent with his theoretical writings over the past 35 years, Stiglitz frames his criticism around the insights of the theory of asymmetric information.

Stiglitz argues that a different approach, specifically his own, could have led to significantly better social outcomes. While I found his arguments persuasive at times, there were instances where I questioned the seriousness of his proposals. For instance, I was skeptical when reading his suggestion, on pages 129 and 231, that the 2002 Argentine crisis could have been averted by adopting a more expansive fiscal policy.

 

Stiglitz consistently emphasizes the crucial role of speed and sequencing in implementing economic liberalization successfully. While this principle is undeniably important, it is not novel in policy discussions. Adam Smith, in "The Wealth of Nations," recognized the difficulty of determining the appropriate sequencing, attributing it primarily to political considerations. He advocated for gradualism, much like Stiglitz, based on the belief that abrupt liberalization would lead to a significant increase in unemployment.

 

In the early 1980s, the World Bank extensively explored issues related to sequencing and the speed of reform. A consensus emerged on key principles: gradual trade liberalization supported by substantial foreign aid, efforts to minimize unemployment consequences, early management of fiscal imbalances in high-inflation countries, establishment of modern supervisory and regulatory agencies for financial reform, and liberalization of the capital account at the end of the process.

 

However, during the early 1990s, this consensus on sequencing and speed was challenged, with calls for simultaneous and rapid reforms gaining traction in Washington. Advocates argued that this approach was necessary politically to overcome opposition to liberalization efforts. Stiglitz critiques this "rapid and simultaneous" reform strategy, particularly exemplified by Vaclav Klaus. Yet, his criticism fails to address the political economy concerns that motivated Klaus and other reformers in Central and Eastern Europe at the time.

 

In 1992, responding to perceived US pressure on capital account liberalization, a conference organized by Yung Chul Park highlighted broad support for appropriate sequencing and the risks of premature capital account opening. Participants, including Robert Mundell, recognized negative externalities, such as borrowing for consumption rather than investment, potentially leading to unsustainable debt burdens.

 

Stiglitz's contention that a more deliberate approach could have yielded better outcomes echoes longstanding discussions in economic thought, emphasizing the importance of political, economic, and social context in reform implementation.

At the 1992 Seoul conference on capital liberalization, Manuel Guitian, a senior IMF official, was among the few dissenters favoring a swift move toward capital account convertibility. In contrast to Stiglitz's characterization of IMF leadership, Guitian's stance lacked dogma or arrogance. Guitian's paper, titled "Capital Account Liberalization: Bringing Policy in Line with Reality," documented the IMF's evolving views on sequencing and capital account convertibility. Guitian argued that there was no a priori reason to delay simultaneous opening of current and capital accounts.

 

From 1995, several countries started relaxing capital controls, but they adopted different strategies. Some focused on relaxing bank lending, others permitted only long-term capital movements, and countries like Chile employed market-based mechanisms to control capital inflows. Many countries, however, opened their capital accounts without external pressure. Indonesia and Mexico, for instance, had a longstanding tradition of free capital mobility.

 

While Stiglitz acknowledges the importance of sequencing, he does not delve into the nuanced and challenging issue of how and when to remove capital controls. Recent research suggests that, in certain circumstances, a freer capital account positively affects long-term growth. Transparent mechanisms, like Chile's flexible tax on short-term inflows, are considered effective transitional devices, but even these have associated costs.

 

Stiglitz critiques the IMF's handling of the East Asian crisis, citing major mistakes such as closing banks during a financial panic, bailing out private and foreign creditors, opposing capital controls on outflows, and enforcing tight fiscal policies and high-interest rates. Stiglitz argues that China and India's experiences, along with Malaysia's quick recovery without following IMF advice, support his views. However, these arguments are deemed unpersuasive due to oversimplification and failure to account for multiple factors influencing crisis outcomes.

 

Stiglitz's criticisms regarding the IMF's fiscal and interest rate policies during the East Asian crisis are severe but lack empirical support. He contends that the IMF's insistence on contractionary fiscal policies exacerbated the recession and that mandated interest rate increases led to bankruptcies, deepening the confidence crisis. However, these arguments are challenged as the situation in late 1997 constituted major currency crises, not just severe downturns, necessitating a different policy approach to address declining demand for government securities and domestic money.

 

In the midst of a major currency crisis, the primary imperative is to restore confidence. Recurrent bankruptcies, substantial deficits translated into money printing, and rapidly depreciating exchange rates are all factors that fail to contribute positively to achieving this goal. However, a delicate balance must be struck, as large deficits converted into money printing and allowing the exchange rate to depreciate excessively may not be conducive to re-establishing confidence.

 

Ultimately, the decision revolves around trade-offs, specifically how much to permit the exchange rate to depreciate and to what extent, and for how long, interest rates should be increased. The government's objectives play a crucial role in determining the course of action. If the authorities aim to prevent default and runaway inflation, as is typically the case for East Asian governments, allowing the exchange rate to spiral out of control poses significant risks. In most situations, injecting liquidity when the demand for money is dwindling and issuing government debt when there is a mass sell-off of government securities may not be effective in restoring confidence or preventing an inflationary crisis.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spitta, Between Two Waters: Narratives of Transculturation in Latin America" (Book Note)

 

 

In "Between Two Waters," Silvia Spitta delves into the analysis of "narratives of transculturation" originating in the Americas, extending the theoretical implications beyond geographical and temporal confines. Regardless of one's alignment with her interpretations of a diverse selection of texts and visual materials, the book prompts contemplation on the interconnected issues of language, knowledge, and power. Notably, Spitta communicates her intricate and sophisticated argument in clear prose, avoiding the jargon that often burdens other literary critiques.

 

At the core of her argument lies the concept of "transculturation," coined by Cuban anthropologist Fernando Ortiz in the 1940s. In contrast to the one-way imposition implied by "acculturation," Spitta defines transculturation as the "complex processes of adjustment and re-creation—cultural, literary, linguistic, and personal—that allow for new, vital, and viable configurations to arise out of the clash of cultures and the violence of colonial and neo-colonial appropriations". Specifically, she identifies a "transculturated subject" as an individual who is "consciously or unconsciously situated between at least two worlds, two cultures, two languages, and two definitions of subjectivity, and who constantly mediates between them all".

 

Emphasizing that the transculturation process is reciprocal, impacting both the colonized and the colonizer, Spitta commences her analysis with Cabeza de Vaca's Naufragios, an account of his early-sixteenth-century travels in the U.S. Southwest. Spitta contends that Cabeza de Vaca's adoption of indigenous culture and medical practices demonstrates transculturation. For example, his use of "nosotros" (us) to include himself and the indigenous people he traveled with, as opposed to "los cristianos" for other Spaniards, signifies a perspective "speaking from the American world". However, the debate arises over whether Cabeza de Vaca's case, where transculturation occurs after his capture and adaptation to survive, is the ideal example to generalize that colonizers change through discovery. While Spitta's argument aligns with the notion that transculturation is a two-way street, the frequency of its traversal seems more pronounced among the subordinated than those wielding power

 

The chapter focusing on Spanish priests' efforts to eradicate Andean idolatry prompts a reflection on the extent of deviation from one's culture necessary for transculturation. Spitta argues that the priests, confronted with indigenous adherence to Catholicism layered with indigenous symbols and meanings, had to become ethnographers to make Catholicism accessible to a different culture. In this process of altering the Other, they inadvertently underwent change themselves. However, the difference between this approach and Cabeza de Vaca's adaptation as a Shaman for survival is stark. While priests like Arriaga, Avila, and Bocanegra learned local languages and embraced ethnography, they seem to have retained the imperial "I/eye." The extent and nature of their change raise questions about whether it qualifies as transculturation.

 

Shifting the focus to indigenous transculturators, Spitta examines the Cuzco school of painting in a separate chapter. This school developed its unique aesthetic in the eighteenth century when Andeans rejected Spanish guidance, persisting in painting Catholic religious icons without adhering to European artistic and religious standards. Spitta contends that Western critics unfairly dismissed this indigenous art as "provincial" and "imitative" while overlooking the inventive liberties of the artists. A later section features a "picture essay" with concise explanations of various paintings.

 

A compelling example of conscious transculturation in literature comes from Spitta's analysis of Peruvian writer Jose Maria Arguedas' works. Arguedas, who declared, "yo no soy aculturado" (I am not acculturated), strived to unite the Andean and coastal worlds in his literature by writing in Spanish from a Quechua Indian perspective. Arguedas succeeded in his literary endeavors but tragically struggled to reconcile these tensions in his personal life, ending in suicide.

 

The last two chapters introduce a critical feminist perspective through Elena Garro's analysis of the Malinche myth in Mexico and Gloria Anzaldua's writings on the U.S.-Mexican borderlands. While this perspective aligns well with the narratives in these chapters, the potential extension of this lens to previous chapters is suggested. Spitta argues that "women's discourse constitutes itself by subverting hegemonic and historiographical discourses," raising questions about how this subversion differs from that of Arguedas or Cabeza de Vaca. Is "women's discourse" particularly subversive, or is it another manifestation of transculturation?

 

The book adheres to its principles by providing both original and English translations for every quotation, despite potential cumbersome aspects, emphasizing the centrality of language to the argument. However, reliance on an English translation for Father Pablo Joseph de Arriaga's The Extirpation of Idolatry in Peru, a significant primary source, is noted.

 

Analogous to the challenges encountered in the social sciences with the notion of resistance, scholars striving to illustrate working-class or subaltern agency have unearthed an extensive arsenal of strategies employed by the oppressed in their resistance against domination. Termed the "weapons of the weak," these manifestations of foot-dragging, gossiping, and sabotage, even in the face of severe repression such as slavery in the United States, showcase the creativity and humanity of those conquered, colonized, and oppressed. Despite numerous micro-studies revealing similar acts of resistance, the crucial question arose: "so what"? The tentative response has been an endeavor to establish connections between this subtle resistance and more overt forms of social change.

 

"Between Two Waters" emerges as a thought-provoking and intelligent book. Yet, a lingering concern arises: instead of embracing Arguedas' "yo no soy un aculturado" (I am not acculturated), there is a potential shift towards the more frequent assertion of "todos somos transculturados" (we are all transculturated). Similar to the rallying cries of "todos somos indios" or "todos somos Marcos," resonating from countless voices in Mexico City in support of the Zapatista indigenous uprising in Chiapas, there exists a peril of obliterating differences in the fervor for solidarity. Spitta's book serves as a reminder that, within and beyond academia, there are individuals who have grappled with living between two waters and uniting two worlds without homogenizing them.

 

 

Sanctioned Ignorance

 

Spivak is critical of how mainstream education and the Western literary canon often overlook imperialist assumptions. She argues that there's a deliberate ignoring of this issue, and it's considered acceptable, which she calls "sanctioned ignorance." Spivak believes that this ignorance contributes to the continuation of colonialist structures. In her view, anyone critiquing imperialism should carefully examine and expose this sanctioned ignorance in their studies, particularly in understanding the relationship between the 'third world' and the 'first world.'

 

She highlights that this sanctioned ignorance is particularly evident in the Western study of the 'third world,' 'oriental,' or 'subaltern,' where perspectives are filtered through a selective lens. Spivak suggests that this issue extends beyond the study of non-Western societies and is present in the broader application of normative theories. These theories, often originating in specific cultural and historical contexts, are unquestioningly applied to all situations without considering their appropriateness.

 

The term 'sanctioned ignorance' goes beyond suggesting a mere oversight; it implies purposeful silencing and dismissing of certain contexts as irrelevant. This is not necessarily about individual intentions but reflects an institutionalized way of thinking that excludes certain types of analysis or considerations from entering into the academic discussion.