Colonial Ideology, (White) Guilt, and the lack of it in J.M. Coetzee’s Disgrace and Jamaica Kincaid’s The Autobiography of My Mother

Colonialist ideology has many shapes and forms. These forms embrace linguistic, racial, and economic constructions that give rise to the oppressive work of colonialist ideology. The best way to point out these constructions at work is through literary artifacts, narratives, and novels. These literary artifacts showcase how colonialist social constructions work to oppress populations and empower hierarchies of control. This essay will illustrate how these oppressive factors work in J.M. Coetzee’s 1999 novel Disgrace and Jamaica Kincaid’s 1996 novel The Autobiography of My Mother and how these factors influence the behavior of the major characters in these novels; it is also possible to demonstrate how they ultimately hurt and influence those around them because of these colonialist ideological factors. This analysis of these novels will be complemented by a rigorous application of particular postcolonial theories by authors and critics Frantz Fanon, Albert Memmi, and Ngugi wa Thiongo.  

Disgrace  

In the novel Disgrace (1999) by J.M. Coetzee the daughter (Lucy) of the disgraced professor David Lurie is raped by three black men, one of them who might be Lucy’s neighbors. Both David and Lucy are white South Africans living in the new South Africa, and yet the intricacies of colonialist ideology influence almost every action they take. Lucy internalizes colonialist ideology by believing that she has no power over herself, over her body (child), and over her land. Internalized colonialism prevents her from realizing the power she has over her land and her body. Legitimizing her rape by keeping her child (rape child) is a product of her internal colonization, or more specifically, white guilt.

            White guilt (specifically in the new South Africa) is a byproduct of the internalization of colonialist ideology. Both David and Lucy (as white South Africans) were part of the powerful, privileged, land-owning class, but in the new South Africa they are part of a guilt-ridden  class forever atoning for the sins of their past. Albert Memmi in “Mythical portrait of the colonized” suggests how internalized colonialist ideology works and creates a “dependency complex”:

In order for that legitimacy to be complete, it is not enough for the colonized to be a slave, he must also accept this role. The bond between colonizer and colonized is thus destructive and creative. It destroys and re-creates the two partners of colonization into colonizer and colonized. One is disfigured into an oppressor, a partial, unpatriotic and treacherous being, worrying only about his privileges and their defense; the other, into an oppressed creature, whose development is broken and who compromises by his defeat.

            Just as the colonizer is tempted to accept his part, the colonizer is forced to accept being colonized. (Memmi 155)

In the new South Africa of Disgrace these roles are somewhat reversed. While the white South Africans (the original colonizers) in the novel still own much of the land, it is their (the whites) “development [that] is broken” (Memmi 155) and who “compromise” by their defeat (Memmi 155). This paper will argue that because of white guilt the roles of internalized colonization are reversed in the novel, and that this reversal dictates actions and reactions of David and Lucy to the world around them, in the process both becoming the “oppressed creature” instead of the oppressor (Memmi 155). This paper will analyze David’s actions and reactions to his sex scandal, and Lucy’s actions and reactions after her rape as evidence that internalized colonialist ideology still permeates in the new South African society, but the roles of colonization have been reversed (at least, in the South Africa of the novel)

            Lucy’s rape by black South Africans, in some sense, is the complete metaphor for the complexities of the new South Africa. The rapists by their act of rape were taken on the role of the “oppressor” (Memmi 155) who worries about his “privileges and their defense” (Memmi 155). The act of rape legitimized their role and status in the new South Africa. They were the colonizers, if only for an instant, taking over her land and body. The dilemma arises after the rape is done. It is Lucy and David who are forced to carry on the burden of the crime. Lucy’s response to the rape signals her internalization of colonialist ideology and her understanding of the reversal of roles in the new South Africa. David, on the other hand, has a harder time coming to grips with the realities of the new South Africa.

            “Lucy, Lucy, I plead with you! You want to make up for the wrongs of the past, but this is not the way to do it” (Coetzee 133), so David pleads with his daughter to recognize the danger she is in and to call the police on Petrus and the young boy who raped her. But Lucy refuses, she “compromises by [her] defeat” (Memmi 155) thereby becoming the “oppressed creature” (Memmi 155) and justifies her silence and inaction to her father by uttering the following words: “Wait until you have heard Petrus’s side of the story” (Coetzee 133). Her white guilt and internalized colonial ideology will not allow her to punish her black attackers, even when it seems that their punishment is justified: “it is not enough for the colonized to be a slave he must also accept this role” (Memmi 155). Lucy is accepting her role, but her inherited stubbornness to change her way of thinking influences her as well.

            It might be argued that Lucy mimics David’s behavior and independent way of thinking, but a better answer might lie in inheritance. This genetic trait towards stubbornness has dire consequences for both father and daughter. Of course David seems thrilled when talking about his daughter’s demeanor: “he recognizes a statement of independence, considered, purposeful [. . .] Making her own life. Coming out of his shadow. Good! He approves! (Coetzee 89). He feels happily satisfied that his daughter has taken on his penchant for independent thinking. Like her father, Lucy, is reluctant to find any faults in her way of thinking or acting.  

            After the home invasion and consequent rape of Lucy, David finds that he cannot influence his daughter to take the actions he feels necessary. Because of her internal colonization, as mentioned by Memmi above, Lucy takes on the role which was thrust into her: the role of mother, housewife, and more importantly as a scapegoat for the sins of her ancestors. She legitimizes her rape by atoning for the sins of her ancestors.   More importantly, David finds that her independent thinking, and reluctance to listen to others, is a nuisance and hindrance, especially when it comes to her own personal safety. She refuses to move out of the farm, even when it seems that her own neighbor might have had a hand in the attack. His stubbornness becomes her stubbornness. Furthermore, she is unapologetic about the pain she is causing to herself and those around her.

Lucie’s decision to atone for the sins of her ancestors can be further analyzed through a postcolonial frame. Frantz Fanon in Black Skin, White Masks (1967) delineates how the imposition of the “Negro”, or black, identity robs him his own consciousness and ultimately his history. Fanon describes how a black man among other black men does not understand nor grasp the “moment his inferiority came into being” (110), but once he meets the white man’s eyes a whole new identity is imposed upon him, based on misunderstandings, that he neither asked for nor understands. Most importantly, in this moment he is no longer simply a man, but an Other responsible not only for his own body, but for his own race, and his ancestors’ history (Fanon 112). It is this act historicity behind racism that makes it vile and violent. By imposing the identity of “Negro” upon an individual, the whole history of that one individual’s race is imposed upon him as well. In the new South Africa where roles are reversed Lucy is burdened with the historicity of her race as well. She too becomes responsible for her own race and her ancestors history, in the process sacrificing her own body and freedom.  Overall, an unsafe understanding of guilt influences both major characters.  

The Autobiography of My Mother

If guilt is the major theme in Disgrace then a lack of guilt in The Autobiography of My Mother especially as it relates to racial prejudice, discrimination, and self-hatred might be the over-arching theme of the novel.

 “And when finally I was a true orphan, my father had at last died and he died not knowing me, not ever speaking to me in a language in which I could have faith, a language in which I could believe the things he said” (Kincaid 223), these are the last thoughts that Xuela, the narrator of  Jamaica Kincaid’s The Autobiography of My Mother (1997) has of her father, a half Scot half African father that that throughout the novel she came to despise or at least view in a negative light. In order to understand the metaphoric, racial, and emotional distance between Xuela and her father we must first understand the father’s identity as seen through the eyes of Xuela. In order to extrapolate the full meaning behind the above quote (the last mention of Xuela’s father in the novel), this section will interpret Xuela’s father through a post-colonialist lens utilizing Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks and wa Thiongo’s Decolonising the Mind in order to showcase the colonial ideology inherent in his character and identity and argue that this colonial ideology was the real distance between them (Xuela’s rejection of it, and her father’s unapologetic embracing of it).

Jamaica Kincaid’s short, but painful novel The Autobiography of My Mother (1997) focuses on Xuela and her search for an identity in a postcolonial world. In my view, she is the ideal victim of postcoloniality, daughter of a Carib mother and a father who is half Scot and half African, whose search for identity is constantly hindered and haunted by her father’s racism and embracing of colonial ideology. Although the novel is structured around Xuela’s search for a real image of her mother, it is Xuela’s father, and his piercing racism, that haunts Xuela in her search for identity. More importantly, it is her father’s acceptance colonial ideology’s close cousin, imperialistic capitalism and money, that hinders their relationship in a negative fashion.

Xuela’s word choice and description of her father speak volumes about the racial complications inherent in a postcolonial space. The narrator describes how her father’s racial identity was one of complexity: “his father was a Scots-man, his mother of the African people” (Kincaid 181). Notice how one racial category of Xuela’s father is descried as “man” and the other category as “people”. “Man” has an individualistic, patriarchal connotation behind it, whereas “people” has a collective sameness behind it. In other words, it’s much easier to discriminate against a “people” than against a “man”. That’s how prejudice works, it is an image and opinion of a whole “people”. The narrator (Xuela) makes this distinction clear: “one of them came off the boat as part of a horde, already demonized . . .; the other came off the boat of his own volition, seeking to fulfill a destiny” (Kincaid 181).

Furthermore, Xuela’s father connects, through colonialist ideology, the African people with the conquered and the Scot-man with the victor. Xuela narrates how her father “rejected the complication of the vanquished; he chose the ease of the victor” (Kincaid 186). This is how colonialist ideology works, it makes you reject a part of you that society says is not worthwhile. Colonialist ideology makes a “people” out of a “man” and connotes those people with the “defeated, doomed, conquered, poor, diseased” (Kincaid 187). Xuela’s father “came to despise all who behaved like the African people” (Kincaid 187) thereby rejecting a part of him (the female/African side of him from his mother) that he found unsatisfactory and succumbing to a patriarchal and imperialist society that worships white skin.

But what separates Xuela and her father is that Xuela rejects this patriarchal imperialist ideology (i.e. colonialism) or at least recognize its workings. “My father’s skin was the color of corruption” (Kincaid 181) is how Xuela describes her father and this detachment between her father’s colonialist ideology and Xuela’s rejection/recognition of it is what causes the lack of grift between them, that ultimately causes her pain and misunderstanding over her identity. Furthermore, language is crucial to this colonialist ideology that Xuela’s father embraces. In one of the most painful scenes of the novel Xuela’s father pushes her into a barrel full of nails speaking patois, the language of the island, the whole time: “and I associated him speaking patois with expressions of his real self and so I knew that this pain he was causing me, this suffocating me in a barrel of nails, was a true feeling of his” (Kincaid 190, emphasis mine). The real father is a patois speaking individual who hates his multi-racial daughter as much as hates his multi-racial self.

Ngũgĩ wa Thiongo states in Decolonising the Mind: The Politics of Language in African Literature (1986) that the choice of language and its use “is central to a people’s definition of themselves in relation to their natural and social environment” (4). But the role of language does not stop there as wa Thiongo makes it clear that language is behind both imperialism and Africa’s struggle towards “communal self-definition” (4). In other words, Euro-based languages are at the heart of imperialism, but the road towards liberation and self-definition lies in native languages.

            But this road is not easily travelled and, as wa Thiongo points out, is full of ironic coincidences. The irony lies in the fact that African writers came to see European languages (the languages of imperialism) as “having a capacity to unite African peoples” and as a “common language with which to present a nationalist front against white oppressors” (wa Thiongo 7). The irony lies in the fact that African writers were going back to the language of the center of imperialism in order to achieve self-definition and liberation, while at the same time moving away from their native languages. Herein lays the most crucial paradox, as wa Thiongo describes it: “using mother-tongues provokes a tone of levity” (7) while foreign languages “produces a categorical positive embrace” (7). So, the question to ask is: where does the African literature lie? Or, what has to be accomplished in order for African literature to be truly African again? The answers lie in decolonization.

            wa Thiongo makes it clear that colonization was achieved through language; that is to say, language carries culture, and culture carries “the entire body of values by which we come to perceive ourselves” (wa Thiong’o 16). In order to achieve true colonization the English had to control the language of Africa, thereby controlling the culture, and thereby placing their English language and culture above the rest. This is how domination was achieved, through language. But the domination of domination of culture and language had a bigger aim, and that was the domination of “the entire realm of the language of real life” (wa Thiongo 16), or in other words, the domination and total control of Africa’s wealth.

            For African’s to take control of their wealth first they must take control of their culture, and in order to this this they must take control of their language. The road towards decolonization starts with the re-introduction of native languages. Thiong’o asks if by “continuing to write in foreign languages [. . .] are we [meaning African writers] not on the cultural level that neo-colonial slavish and cringing spirit?” (26). His obvious answer is a definite “yes”. But the solution is not that simple or easy. In other words, simply eradicating all European languages will not solve Africa’s problems. The problems go much deeper than that and have their root in ideology. In other words, the problem is in the mind and Africans must first learn to decolonize their minds in order to further their cause. wa Thiongo writes: imperialism “has turned reality upside down: the abnormal is viewed as normal and the normal is viewed as abnormal [. . .] Africa is made to believe it needs Europe to rescue it from poverty” (28). Europe is the problem, but only part of the solution. Africans must first realize the “negative qualities of backwardness” (wa Thiongo 28) associated with their culture are a product of racist ideologies meant to distort reality for maximum profit. Until they come to this reality, the process of decolonization cannot begin.

As wa Thiongo makes it clear the road towards decolonization lies in native languages, in the case of this novel (Caribbean) patois, and not in the embracing of Euro languages. The embracing of Euro languages leads to the acceptance of imperialistic capitalism and its thirst for profit at all costs. But in the novel Xuela’s father does not grasp the complexity behind this ideology. He turned his back on his race for the pursuit of money, power, and achievement. In the process he lost those most close to him, his wife and ultimately his daughter.

  The narrator’s father does not understand life or love, except when it relates to money. The narrator mentions that her father did not understand love as it relates to people, but only love as it relates to money. Most importantly the narrator mentions the following idea about her father, “[he] understood that it was in the small parts of something that its true whole is expressed, it is in the small parts of something that its real beauty lies” (Kincaid 184), of course the narrator is relating the idea of how her father understood money, but this same idea could relate and transfer to his racial identity.

The father’s identity consists of a confluence of racial categories. The “man” is the Scots-man in him, and the “people” is his African part: “inside my father, the Scots-man and the African people met; I do not know how he felt about that” (Kincaid 185). The successful meshing of racial identities in an individual consists of embracing both identities concurrently; or in other words, realizing that “it is in the small parts of something that its true whole is expressed” (Kincaid 184). The beauty of a multi-racial individual lies in the distinct racial “parts” of his/her identity. Combining and embracing all racial parts in order to complete a beautiful and distinct whole is the only way for a multi-racial individual to create a true identify. The only way that the narrator’s father understands money is by coming to the conclusion that its true whole lies in its small parts, and the only way that he can come to grips with his identity is by realizing that his true self and beauty lies in its parts as well. But he does not come to this conclusion and instead fails to see and realize his true identity (in other words, he fails to transfer his metaphor of money into his racial identity).

 The narrator’s father fails to see that his understanding of money could very well help him realize his true identity. Instead, he takes sides and choses the “man” over the “people”. The narrator describes how her father “rejected the complications of the vanquished; [and] he chose the ease of the victor” (Kincaid 186). The problem is that he himself is part of the vanquished, or the African people. By rejecting one half of himself he is re-creating the ideology and history of colonialism in his own personality. The narrator makes this clear: “inside my father [. . .] an event that occurred hundreds of years before, [. . .] continued on a course so subtle that it became  a true expression of his personality” (Kincaid 187). Here Kincaid is relating her father’s battle with his identity to the ideological maneuverings of colonialism.

            In Black Skin, White Masks (1967) Fanon writes of his desire to become “a man, nothing but a man” (113), but unlike Xuela’s father in the novel, Fanon accepts his relation to his African people: “Some identified me with ancestors of mine who had been enslaved or lynched: I decided to accept this” (Fanon 113). Fanon comes to grips with his African ancestry in his pursuit to become a “man” in the world’s eyes. Xuela’s father, on the other hand, rejects his African ancestry in his pursuit to become a “man” and in the process duplicates or continues the ideological work of colonialism.

Works Cited

Coetzee, J. M. Disgrace. New York: Penguin, 1999. Print.

Fanon, Frantz. Black Skin, White Masks. New York: Grove, 1967. Print.

Kincaid, Jamaica. The Autobiography of My Mother. New York: Plume, 1996. Print.

Memmi, Albert. The colonizer and the Colonized. Trans. Howard Greenfield. London: Earthscan, 1965 (1990). Print.

Wa Thiongo, Ngugi. Decolonising the Mind: The Poloitics of Language in African Literature. Harare: Zimbababwe House, 1981. Print.