Ndapwa Alweendo, 16
September 2013
Reading The
Wretched of the Earth was a surprisingly emotional experience. On the one
hand, Fanon writes with a prescience that is breath-taking in its accuracy. His
chapter on the pitfalls of national consciousness is still extremely relevant
to many post-colonial states, which left me which a sense of disappointment. At
the same time, the reader is given hope as they are constantly reminded that
revolution is not unattainable, even as any oppressive system does its best to
suppress it. While the decolonisation movement was not consolidated in many
postcolonial states, the very fact of its occurrence is testament to the
potential for revolutionary change inherent in an oppressive system.
Fanon’s discussion of culture as a tool of a
liberatory movement raises some interesting points for discussion. Often, liberatory
struggle takes the form of the re-establishment of a national culture that has
been denied and contested as part of the colonial process. Fanon clearly
outlines the way in which ‘native’ cultures are homogenised and dismissed by
the colonisers, as a way to deny the humanity of the colonised. In Algeria for
example, the veil was re-defined by the colonisers as a method of oppressing
Algerian women, ignoring the religious, cultural and political significance
that the Algerian people ascribed to it (Fanon, 1965: 37). Instead of seeing
themselves as contributing to the history of the colonised, the coloniser does
the opposite: the colonised subject is simply a living backdrop to the
coloniser’s history (Fanon, 1963: 51).
In the face of such dehumanisation, both in
terms of one’s history and one’s lived experience, it is entirely logical that
the colonial subject cling to a national culture as an affirmation of self. While
Fanon is not necessarily a supporter of culture in and of itself, he sees the
return to culture as an inevitable step in the decolonisation process. However,
he does recognise the problems that often accompany such a return. Attempts to
build a national culture may be naïve in that there is more than one culture in
any colonial state, and they may be at odds with each other. Even if a national
culture that is inclusive is agreed upon, it may have serious problems that are
overlooked because distancing the colonised subject from the coloniser takes
precedence (Fanon, 1963: 218).
One has
to wonder about the emancipatory potential of a national culture that may be in
and of itself oppressive. In a country like Namibia for example, it is
difficult to imagine the emergence of a national culture that would not be
largely determined by ethnic (and, to a certain extent, racial) identity. Essentially,
Fanon appears to view culture as a stepping-stone in the revolutionary process
– the oppressed individual needs to see that action, rather than culture, is
what gains one membership to the nation.
One of the most striking aspects of the book was
the nuanced discussion of the role of violence in a liberatory struggle. While
I was aware of the fact that Fanon condoned the use of violence, the reasons
for this stance were not entirely clear to me and, as a result, it seemed at
times to be a somewhat offhand prescription. While the topic was discussed in Black Skin, White Masks and A Dying Colonialism, I think that this
work succeeds in outlining the real difficulties regarding violence.
The necessity and the inevitability of violence
are clear when one considers the colonial condition. The colonised subject
faced violence from all directions. As noted above, the culture and history of
the ‘native’ was heavily suppressed – this denial of humanity constituted
violence. The colonial state also used violence directly on the colonial
subject, both physically and mentally. This latter form of violence is
brilliantly demonstrated in the chapter entitled “Colonial War and Mental
Disorders”, which makes clear the link between the often indiscriminate
violence of the state and the deterioration of the mental health of countless
Algerians. In the face of such inescapable violence, I agree with Fanon when he
says that a violent response is both inevitable and necessary. While the use of
violence by an oppressed people is never desirable, it is certainly a necessary
action, and is liberatory because it is an action against an oppressive state/system
of control. The intensification of state-sanctioned violence that usually
precedes a violent response only serves to further encourage the colonised
subject to respond in kind.
What was also interesting was the unifying power
that Fanon attributes to violence. Fanon compares the use of violence against
the coloniser to a “royal pardon” (1963: 86), capable of buying re-entry into
society by those who have ‘strayed’ or are considered outlaws. The sort of
‘undesirables’ to whom this currency is useful include “the pimps, the
hooligans, the unemployed, and the petty criminals” (Fanon, 1963: 130). This
notion of solidarity through violence has interesting connotations for the way
in which we understand morality in society.
Firstly, the idea that violence is unjustifiable
under any circumstances, and that all disputes should be settled by peaceful
means (i.e. pacifism), is not compatible with the colonial system, which is
inherently violent. To expect a people to respond to violence with pacifism
seems completely unreasonable, and could even be interpreted as a continued
denial of their humanity. Secondly, although I do not condone the exclusion of
“the pimps, the hooligans, the unemployed, and the petty criminals” in any
society, it is somehow comforting to know that society is capable of accepting
the marginalised, even if that acceptance is only temporary and occurs in the
most terrible of times. Without reverting to the extreme of cultural
relativism, I think it is safe to say that Fanon reveals that morality is by no
means a fixed point. His work also reveals that many differences are not as
insurmountable as they may seem, as history continues to demonstrate the
ability of human beings to put aside their differences in order to achieve a
greater goal. Acceptance of this idea could, in an ideal world, help to put an
end to the marginalisation that continues to persist globally.
Much as I wanted to avoid ending on a sad note,
it was impossible to read Fanon’s work without feeling a sense of despair. It
is undeniable that his work read, in many ways, as a call to arms and a call to
humanity. For that reason, I believe that his three works should be more widely
read and appreciated than they are today. Fanon’s message is profound and
uncompromising: oppression is a denial of the humanity that should be
universally accepted and protected, and people have to be willing to make any
sacrifice to reclaim their humanity.
However, the prescience I alluded to at the
start of this paper is deeply disturbing, because his descriptions of the
post-colonial state continue to be so relevant. When Fanon wrote this work, I
doubt that he predicted that states which gained independence approximately
thirty years later (namely Namibia and South Africa) would be so accurately
described by his words. He criticised states for attempting to follow in the
footsteps of their colonisers, stating that “we today can do everything, so
long as we do not imitate Europe, so long as we are not obsessed by the desire
to catch up with Europe” (Fanon, 1963: 312). It is obvious though, at least in
terms of economics, that many post-colonial states have done just this. South
Africa, India and Brazil are all praised for cultivating economies which have
been actively modelled on the economies of the so-called ‘developed’ countries.
This tribute to the European economic model is, as is noted by Fanon, grotesque
as it valorises a system that continues the denial of humanity that was begun
by the colonial state.
Perhaps though, the unthinkability of change is
what will make change inevitable. After all, both the Haitian Revolution and the
ability of colonial states to govern themselves was unthinkable up until the
moments they became a reality (and even after that). Perhaps, rather than
believing that a movement will fail because of similarities to the past, Fanon’s
work can be used to help us avoid some of the pitfalls that trapped those that
went before us. In that case, Fanon’s work still has a great degree of
relevance in contemporary liberatory struggle.
List of References
Fanon, F., 1965. A Dying Colonialism. New York: Grove Press.
Fanon, F., 1963. The Wretched of the Earth. New York: Grove Press.
