Posts Tagged ‘post-colonial’

Book Review and Summary: David Spurr: The Rhetoric of Empire: Colonial Discourse in Journalism, Travel Writing, and Imperial Administration

In The Rhetoric of Empire David Spurr analyzes colonial discourse from the colonial era to this day. He does so by identifying the rhetorical features of that discourse and by studying the way in which they work. In the process he focuses mainly on nonfiction writing and in particular on journalism, which he expects to be less mediated by aesthetic requirements than fictional writing. One of the central questions that he poses during his explorations is:

“How does the Western writer construct a coherent representation out of the strange and (to the writer) often incomprehensible realities confronted in the non-Western world?” (3)

Spurr tries to find answers by mapping the tropes of the discourse and by compiling a genealogy of the variations of these tropes in texts of the nineteenth and twentieth century. In twelve chapters, which work quite independently, he points out different ways in which the Western writer constructs the reality of the colonized. An abundance of examples from works by Charles Darwin or T. E. Lawrence to contemporary journalistic texts published for example in the Washington Post, National Geographic and many other well-known sources support his arguments while at the same time facilitating the reading.

Spurr’s first chapter is entitled “Surveillance: Under Western Eyes“, in which he identifies the act of looking at landscapes, interiors and bodies as the first step in writing a report about a Third World culture. But this seemingly simple procedure already contains problems, for instance when an American Vietnam War reporter is taken up in a helicopter of the U.S. Air Force to get an overview over the battlefield. From there he naturally sees the war from a very onesided perspective. In the end, Spurr draws the conclusion that a writer always mediates what he sees, that he in a sense colonizes the landscape as he arranges the scene as the object of desire (27).

In the second chapter, titled “Appropriation: Inheriting the Earth“, Spurr gathers texts in which Western writers justify their colonizing actions and in a way claim for themselves the duty to exploit nature’s material resources that are hidden in the colonies. Thus, colonization becomes a gesture of “human solidarity” because it “unites the intellectual and moral qualities of Europe with the material wealth of the tropics” (29).

In “Aestheticization: Savage Beauties“, Spurr goes on to analyze the way in which information about the colonies is presented to the Western reader. He suggests that reports are often mediated in order to make reading an enjoyable and aesthetic experience. As a very striking example he cites guidelines by the editor for articles of National Geographic in the first half of the twentieth century, who, amongst other things, asks for an abundance of beautiful illustrations and an omission of controversial material (51).

Chapter 4, “Classification: The Order of Nations“, deals with the colonizer’s habit of classifying colonized people according to how modernized they are in comparison to his own nation. Spurr mentions other views on this issue, too: they take into account that modernization might not always and everywhere be desired and that traditional societies might, for instance, favor the aesthetic over the technological (74).

In “Debasement: Filth and Defilement“, Spurr describes the Westerner’s method of looking down on non-Westerners. This often happens in three distinct manners: “a colonized people is held in contempt for their lack of civility, loved for their willingness to acquire it, and ridiculed when they have acquired too much” (86). This debasement is also visible on a formal level. In a book about the source of AIDS in Africa, the author at the same time reduces and magnifies the people into the equivalent of a natural desaster; he writes about them as if they were an epidemic or an inundation (91).

In the following chapters David Spurr analyzes Western rhetoric in terms of negation, affirmation, idealization, insubstantialization, naturalization and eroticization. A particularly interesting idea is developed in chapter 8,Idealization: Strangers in Paradise“. Spurr names a series of writings that have produced an “idealized savage”, which means that the “savages” live a happy life in a harmonious society on a tropical island. Against the background of the assumption that we see as happy those peoples who make us happy when we look at them, because of the poetic or aesthetic emotion evoked by their appearance, he comes to the conclusion that the idealization of the Other is “symptomatic of modern alienation and as a mark of profound self-doubt in the collective consciousness of the West” (135).

In his last chapter, which Spurr calls “Resistance: Notes Toward an Opening“, he writes about resistance to colonial discourse. An impressive example from 1926 mentions a Sudanese woman, who sees the British as simply the latest in a history of foreign occupiers. She calls them Turks and complains about their smell. This makes the author of the anecdote think and realize that both colonizer and colonized are in a similar way entrapped within the structures of power (187). The problem in the recent past is that the decolonialization of the Third World has not brought about a decolonialization of thought, which would cause a subversion of the powers that are included in discourse (200).

The Rhetoric of Empire offers a rich source of examples and their interpretations, so that the reader encounters excerpts from a very diverse range of publications. At times, however, one gets the impression that in his research David Spurr has come across passages that he liked very much and that he wanted to use in his book just for the sake of telling them to his readers, although he already had enough material to make his argument; the welcome abundance of examples sometimes turns into a redundance.

Apart from that, Spurr might have been better off if he had more often included a focus on the readership of the texts he analyzed in his interpretations. The occasional distinction between, for example, a popular and a professional audience had surely shed light on further interesting reasons why a rhetorical feature is used in a certain text in a specific way. All in all, Spurr has compiled a readable outline and helpful analysis of contructions of the colonial “Other”.

Spurr, David. 1993. The Rhetoric of Empire: Colonial Discourse in Journalism, Travel Writing, and Imperial Administration. Durham: Duke University Press.

 

Bibliography

Page numbers refer to this edition:

secondary literature:

 

Conclusion: Anil’s fluid identity

Victoria Cook once speaks of “the fluid whole that is Anil Tissera” (2004, 3) and I think this is a very good expression to describe Anil’s identity. As I have shown, Anil’s journey around the world is not only a geographical one, but also metaphorical. With the purchase of her brother’s name she starts a process of emancipation, but during this purchase she is still in a position inferior to her brother. Later, in England, she still does not let go of her Sri Lankan roots, which leads her into the marriage with a Sri Lankan.

It is only after her divorce, when she moves to the United States, that she finally liberates herself from male power and finds her own independent identity. At the beginning of her time in Sri Lanka, she also sees herself as an outsider, or at least as someone who can judge the events from the outside, but during the course of her investigations she starts to see herself as a Sri Lankan again. Anil moves away from and back to Sri Lanka as she did in the swim race, her title ‘swimmer‘ therefore is in this context very appropriate.

Anil’s story ends as Gamini has predicted it: “‘American movies, English books–remember how they all end? [...] The American or the Englishman gets on a plane and leaves. That’s it. The camera leaves with him.’” (285). It is unfortunate that we have to leave Anil at this moment and can not follow her further, because the very interesting question of her new destination after Sri Lanka – she has nowhere and nobody to go to – has to be left unanswered. In this respect, the novel offers its readers a slightly negative prospect.

Bibliography

 

The motif of water

Throughout the novel there is one prominent recurring motif to be encountered, namely the motif of water or, in a more figurative sense, the motif of fluidity. Before I link this idea to Anil and her identity, I want to go through the several occasions where the motif can be found.

To begin with, Anil’s and Sarath’s working place in Colombo is set up on a ship with the name Oronsay, which has been put out of service and has been “berthed permanently in an unused quay at the north end of Colombo harbour” (18). The ship is apparently named after a Scottish island with the same name and has “once travelled between Asia and England” (18), so there is a strong connection to Great Britain. Ganapathy-Doré sees the ship as “an island of confidentiality in the murky political waters of Sri Lanka” (2002), but since government officials certainly know that Anil and Sarath are working on the ship, it is in my opinion as safe or unsafe as any other place in Colombo. I would rather claim that the ship represents the insecurity of their whole enterprise. Just as the ship is not connected to the safety of the mainland and is therefore subject to dangers such as storms, Anil’s and Sarath’s actions are constantly endangered of being exposed.

Speaking of the Scottish island Oronsay, islands in general play a significant role in the novel. Sri Lanka itself is of course an island, Anil is legally a citizen of another island, the United Kingdom (cf. 16), and Anil’s and Leaf’s most discussed film is Point Blank because of a scene in which Lee Marvin swims from the prison island Alcatraz to San Francisco (cf. 237). Anil and Leaf ask themselves where exactly Lee Marvin was shot: “When they looked at the scene closely they saw Lee Marvin’s hand leap up to his chest. ‘See, he has difficulty on his right side. When he swims later in the bay he uses his left arm.’” (238).

To return to Anil, she uses exactly the same image earlier in the novel: “But here, on the island, she realized she was moving with only one arm of language among uncertain laws and a fear that was everywhere” (54). In this quote, Anil mentions “the island” explicitly and connects it to uncertainty and fear. In my view, this is the main characteristic of the islands in the novel. Not only does Sri Lanka cause uncertainty and fear in Anil, but she is also lonely and uncertain during her time in Great Britain, her legal country of residence, as I have elaborated in chapter 2. 2.

When we look at the already mentioned process of naming, we come across two further references to water. “They had labelled the bodies TINKER, TAILOR, SOLDIER, SAILOR” (51). The names that Anil and Sarath give their four unburied bodies are taken from a children’s counting game that begins with these four words. What is notable about these namings, however, is that the three ancient bodies are named ‘tinker’, ‘tailor’ and ‘soldier’, and that the important fourth body, which turns out to be a murder victim, is called and from then on referred to as ‘sailor’. This could be read as connoting the body with the same uncertainty I have assigned to the role of the islands. A sailor is someone without a fixed home, or at least with a home unknown to Anil and Sarath. They want to give him back that missing part of his identity and reconstruct it, mainly by finding out his real name, because they see him as a “representative of all those lost voices”. They argue that “[giving] him a name would name the rest” (56).

The second example of naming involving the motif of water is the name that Anil is known by in Sri Lanka. It is also the name that Sarath addresses her by at their first meeting: “‘So–you are the swimmer!’” (16). The reader already knows where this title comes from:

Anil at sixteen had won the two-mile swim race that was held by the Mount Lavinia Hotel.

Each year a hundred people ran into the sea, swam out to a buoy a mile away and swam back to the same beach, the fastest male and the fastest female fêted in the sports pages for a day or so. (10)

The idea of this swim race is very striking and it can be interpreted as an analogy to Anil’s life and her identity. As a swimmer she swam one mile away from the island, which is quite a distance in water, turned around and swam back. In the same way she leaves Sri Lanka at the age of eighteen and also gradually leaves her Sri Lankan background, until she is very far away from her home country. After her physical return to Sri Lanka, during her investigations, she gradually returns emotionally, too, and she becomes a Sri Lankan again.

Bibliography

 

Anil under surveillance and power

One of the first things Anil does after her return to Sri Lanka is to examine a body together with two young students at Kynsey Road Hospital. Anil is so affected by the recently killed victim that her hands begin to tremble – the two students look at each other and one of them says pertly: “‘Is this your first corpse, then?’” (13). This consternation is an unexpected experience for Anil, who “never usually translated the time of a death into personal time” (13) and it shows for a short moment that she is not as confident as she wants herself to be.

A similar incident happens to her during her visit to Lalitha, which I have already mentioned in chapter 2. 3. Lalitha’s granddaughter disturbs the emotional reunion between Anil and her childhood nanny with her disapproving glance:

Anil could hardly recognize the tiny aged woman. They stood facing each other. Anil stepped forward to embrace her. Just then a young woman walked out and watched them without a smile. Anil was aware of the stern eyes that were taking in this sentimental moment. (22)

Anil is literally under the surveillance of Lalitha’s granddaughter, who shows her power and excludes her from the conversation by deliberately speaking in Tamil, a language that Anil is unable to understand.

In these two examples, Anil feels disturbed, but although she is in an inferior position she is in no real danger. Things are different when she, Sarath and Ananda are confronted with soldiers who stop their car in a roadblock. One of them takes Anil’s bag, empties it and searches its contents in front of everybody (cf. 162f). Anil is embarrassed about her personal things being looked through so thoroughly. The structures of power are very evident during this encounter. Anil knows that “the international authority of Geneva” (29) does not mean much in a critical situation, but that she has no other option than to comply with the soldier’s orders.

It becomes even more dangerous for Anil during the hearing at the Armoury Auditorium. What happens to her there is similar to the events at the roadblock. Again, she is questioned by a group of men who are in a superior position. The setup of the Auditorium alone makes these power relationships clear: Anil is in the front and everybody is looking towards her, while she tries to make her case without any real evidence. Sarath makes the situation worse and intimidates her even more during his questioning, but of course that is the only way he can save her.

Were told about the following events only indirectly by the thoughts of Sarath, but we can assume that she is facing tough searches on her way out of the building.

Sarath knew they would halt her at each corridor level, check her papers again and again to irritate and humiliate her. He knew she would be searched, vials and slides removed from her briefcase or pockets, made to undress and dress again. (277)

While Anil leaves the building and has to undergo all the examinations, she is certainly in the most humiliating situation of the ones I have mentioned so far and her inferior position and powerlessness in the face of the local authorities become very evident.

Bibliography