No More Fences: Hybridity
and the Concept of National Identity in Postcolonial Literature
by Richard R. DiPirro
Every human being, in addition to having their own personal identity, has
a sense of who they are in relation to the larger community--the nation.
Postcolonial studies is the attempt to strip away conventional perspective
and examine what that national identity might be for a postcolonial subject.
To read literature from the perspective of postcolonial studies is to seek
out--to listen for, that indigenous, representative voice which can inform
the world of the essence of existence as a colonial subject, or as a postcolonial
citizen. Postcolonial authors use their literature and poetry to solidify,
through criticism and celebration, an emerging national identity, which
they have taken on the responsibility of representing. Surely, the reevaluation
of national identity is an eventual and essential result of a country gaining
independence from a colonial power, or a country emerging from a fledgling
settler colony. However, to claim to be representative of that entire identity
is a huge undertaking for an author trying to convey a postcolonial message.
Each nation, province, island, state, neighborhood and individual is its
own unique amalgamation of history, culture, language and tradition. Only
by understanding and embracing the idea of cultural hybridity when attempting
to explore the concept of national identity can any one individual, or
nation, truly hope to understand or communicate the lasting effects of
the colonial process.
Postcolonialism is the continual shedding of the old skin of Western thought
and discourse and the emergence of new self-awareness, critique, and celebration.
With this self-awareness comes self-expression. But how should the inhabitants
of a colonial territory, or formerly colonized country or province see
themselves, once they have achieved their independence? With whom will
they identify? In a country like India, prior to 1947, most people identified
themselves as Indians, against the identity of their British oppressors.
Theirs was a strong feeling of communal, national identity, fostered by
a shared resentment of the British colonial powers. However, after 1947,
after being granted autonomy, India's populace slowly disintegrated into
more and more divided factions, as the "national" identity shrunk, and
people found other, closer groups to identify with. The ambiguous and shifting
nature of national identity is thus integral to a discussion of postcolonial
theory, as identification with one group inevitably leads to differentiation
with others.
In his definitive book about the concept of "nation" and "nationalism,"
Imagined Communities, Benedict Anderson says, "In an anthropological
spirit, then, I propose the following definition of the nation: it is an
imagined political community--and imagined as both inherently limited
and sovereign" (Anderson 5). His work refers to anthropological data, as
he maintains that the concept of "nation" is truly a cultural construct,
a man-made artifice. Thus, for Anderson, it is "imagined." Nation, and
identity, begins with one's family and closest friends, and slowly moves
out from this center. In our contemporary example, two residents of the
same country may live in completely different geographical climates, having
very little in common with each other. In such a case, one may have a personal
identity, and identify with a more local "nation," yet be part of a political
nation as defined by demarcated boundary lines, drawn on a map. As Anderson
says, "All communities larger than primordial villages of face-to-face
contact (and perhaps even these) are imagined" (Anderson 6).
Children are raised to associate with a nation as representing unity and
government. The long-running Western colonialist perspective of nation
seems to be: that simply by drawing lines on a piece of paper and forming
a government within those lines, a cohesive political entity can be created.
A perfect example of this lies in the formation of modern India. Prior
to British colonization of India, there existed, in relative harmony, one
of the most diverse and heterogeneous populations on the planet. Communities
and culture gave people their identity. By the time India achieved its
independence, however, the British had created a bureaucracy, boundaries
and centralized government, in the likeness of the prototypical Western
nation-state.
For the inhabitants of India during the colonial years and the time leading
to their independence, embracing a national identity was not a difficult
task, for several reasons. The first is that it is easiest for someone
to identify themselves in terms of contrast with another, outside identity.
People living in India prior to 1947 were striving for independence from
shared oppression by the British. Thus, no matter what their cultural background
may have been, or their geographical location within the emerging nation
of India, anyone who was not a member of the colonial institution could
view themselves as being victimized by flat institution, and could identify
with every other "Indian" in that victimization. Another example could
be a participant in the Negritude movement in Africa, who could celebrate
being black only by contrasting black with white. And yet another example
lies with any country, any nation, which is at war with another. Nationalist
sentiment reaches a crescendo during war by differentiating one's own country
from that of the enemy.
The second reason that it is relatively easy for colonized subjects to
adopt and live a national identity lies in the fact that the very identity
adopted by the oppressed has been most likely encouraged by the oppressor.
This touches on the idea of "hegemony," as postulated by Antonio Gramsci.
Grarnsci was interested in the subject of subordination as it existed within
a colony or nation. He maintained that colonial powers would not have been
able to maintain their rule over colonized people without the implicit,
if unconscious permission of the colonized subjects. He believed that subordination
over long periods entailed the participation of those subordinated. As
Ania Loomba points out in Colonialism/Postcolonialism, "Gramsci
argued that the ruling classes achieve domination not by force or coercion
alone, but also by creating subjects who 'willingly' submit to being ruled"
(qtd. in Loomba, 29).
Colonial authority wanted a subject to feel a sense of national spirit.
The British wanted the inhabitants of their newly-constructed India to
embrace the idea of their being "Indian," albeit in a form laid out by
the British. Before the British consolidated their influence into a territory
they called India, it was an immensely varied, heterogeneous mass of different
religions, political and cultural beliefs. Having drawn lines in the sand
which defined India, and having instituted a central government, the British
expected Parsi, Kashmiri, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, upper and lower-class/caste
to think of themselves as Indian and to respect the British-established
government. The British gave the Indian people a model of "Indian," of
being a British subject, and expected the population to embrace it, which,
in most cases, they did. This is what Anderson refers to as "mental miscegenation."
Once a country like India achieved its independence from the British colonial
machine, how then were these people supposed to identify themselves? They
were a vast nation of a tremendously varied cultural history, labeled "Indian'
by the very powers they had striven to evict from their country. Only by
exploring the idea of "cultural nationalism" can this phenomenon be at
all understood. This line of thinking attributes national identity not
so much to boundaries and political machinations, but, rather, to more
elemental cultural and community-oriented aspects of one's persona.
Remember that Anderson has defined "nation" as an "imagined political community."
We have discussed why it is "imagined," but why does he consider the nation
a "community?" He says, "Finally, it [the nation] is imagined as a community
because, regardless of the actual inequality and exploitation that may
prevail in each, the nation is always conceived as a deep, horizontal comradeship"
(Anderson 7). But, as an American, does one feel "a deep, horizontal comradeship"
for a fellow citizen living in Alaska? Or is there more fraternity to be
found with someone of similar religious belief or ethnic background? This
is where the ambiguity surrounding the concept of "national identity" emerges.
As Loomba states, "Perhaps the connection between postcolonial writing
and the nation can be better comprehended by understanding that the 'nation'
itself is a ground of dispute and debate, a site for the competing imaginings
of different ideological and political interests" (Loomba 207). I believe
that this "dispute and debate" can be successfully joined and undertaken
only with a knowledge of the work of Homi K. Bhabha, as it relates to the
concept of "cultural hybridity."
Bhabha put forth his idea of hybridity to explain the very unique sense
of identity shared and experienced individually by members of a former
colonized people. He maintains that members of a postcolonial society have
an identity which has been shaped jointly by their own unique cultural
and community history, intertwined with that of the colonial power. Thus,
for example, a Parsi in Bombay will have incorporated into his or her personal
and national identity the traditions inherent in being Parsi, being Muslim,
and being an "Indian"--a member of a formerly oppressed society. Bhabha
writes, "These hyphenated, hybridized cultural conditions are also forms
of a vernacular cosmopolitanism that emerges in multicultural societies
and explicitly exceeds a particular national location" ("The White Stuff,"
23).
Thus, having illustrated the difficulties inherent in the postcolonial
subject's attempt to formulate a new personal and national identity, we
return to the initial, basic point of this discussion: How does a postcolonial
author, playwright or poet provide a reader with a true representation
of a particular postcolonial condition? Who does the author claim to represent?
If an author is Indian in origin, does his writing represent the state
of affairs for all Indians living in postcolonial India? The answer to
this last question is transparently "no." The quality of life and historical
circumstances vary too widely from town to town, neighborhood to neighborhood,
family to family, and, ultimately, from individual to individual. The question
remains then: is there a way for postcolonial authors to convey their respective
messages about the colonial condition without assuming a definitive "voice,"
without presuming that they speak for all members of their respective "nation?"
I maintain that there are at least three authors who have incorporated
Bhabha's theory of cultural hybridity into their works, and thus are able
to communicate the postcolonial condition to the rest of the world. These
authors are Salman Rushdie, Bapsi Sidhwa and David Malouf.
Rushdie's novel, Midnight's Children should be considered the quintessential
fictional novel for illustrating the near insurmountable difficulties inherent
in creating a national identity amongst a hugely heterogeneous postcolonial
society. Masterfully employing magical realism and weaving metaphors in
and out of each other on every page, Rushdie very effectively describes
postcolonial India's troubled attempt at forging a national consciousness
immediately after achieving their independence from Great Britain. He describes
the shared excitement and nationalist sentiments felt by the population
of India as the day of their independence grew near:
There was an extra festival on the calendar, a new myth to celebrate,
because a nation which had never previously existed was about to win its
freedom, catapulting us into a world which, although it had five thousand
years of history, although it had invented the game of chess and traded
with Middle Kingdom Egypt, was nevertheless quite imaginary; into a mythical
land, a country which would never exist except by the efforts of a phenomenal
collective will--except in a dream we all agreed to dream; it was a mass
fantasy shared in varying degrees by Bengali and Punjabi, Madrasi and Jat,
and would periodically need the sanctification and renewal which can only
be provided by rituals of blood (Rushdie, 130).
As the novel progresses, and the populace of India examine their new respective
identities, people begin to narrow those identities, limiting more and
more their respective concepts of "nation." Identification as "Indian"
gives way to identification with religious beliefs, ethnic backgrounds
and political convictions. And with each new phase of emerging identity,
a new differentiation occurs between one member of Indian society and another.
As these differentiations are further recognized and legitimized, a pattern
of hegemony and violence ensues which threatens to tear the new nation
of India apart.
Bapsi Sidhwa articulates this same theme in her novel, Cracking India.
She approaches this same idea of Indian society pulling itself apart in
its quest for a shared, postcolonial, national identity by focusing on
one small neighborhood in the Punjab district. The inhabitants of this
small, relatively insular community hardly notice the differences between
one another until India achieves its independence, and is partitioned into
Pakistan and India. As the novel progresses, this happy community is slowly
tom apart by violent instances of racism and religious fanaticism. This
is foreshadowed early in the book, during a conversation between various
members of the neighborhood and the outgoing British Inspector General
of the Police. The Inspector General is arguing with Mr. Singh, a Sikh,
about what will happen in India once the British have left:
"Rivers of blood will flow all right!" he shouts, almost as loudly
as Mr. Singh. "Nehru and the Congress will not have everything their way!
They will have to reckon with the Muslim League and Jinnah. If we quit
India today, old chap, you'll bloody fall at each other's throats!" (Sidhwa
71).
Mr. Singh replies, "Hindu, Muslim, Sikh: we all want the same thing! We
want independence!" Essentially, the message being communicated by both
this novel and Rushdie's is that in forging an identity, either on an individual
basis, or as a nation, the stronger one feels about belonging to one group,
the more separated they become from another. This is embracing the exact
antithesis of cultural hybridity as espoused by Bhabha.
Another unique approach to the use of cultural hybridity in a postcolonial
text has been utilized by David Malouf, in his novel Remembering Babylon.
Malouf writes of the formative years of an Australian settler colony, and
he uses a very unique character, that of Gemmy, to illustrate the vast
differences between the settlers and the aboriginals, and, eventually,
between the settlers themselves. Gemmy is a white man who has grown up
amongst the aboriginals. He has been away from Western society for so long
that he is unable to communicate competently, or effect legitimate social
discourse with the other whites. He comes to live with a young settler
colony, and Malouf uses him to illustrate differences between all members
of this colony. As each member of the colony tries to analyze the differences
between themselves and Gemmy, they come to realize fundamental differences
amongst them all. As Mr. Frazer writes in his logbook, "We must rub our
eyes and look again, clear our minds of what we are looking for to see
what is there" (Malouf 130).
Surely, each member of a postcolonial society would love to encounter one
specific voice which could articulate their particular suffering and oppression
under the colonial institution--one voice which would articulate their
own sense of national identity. But exploration of these societies, and
the literature produced by postcolonial authors and poets illustrates that
there is a veritable infinite number of differing circumstances inherent
in each postcolonial society, and, consequently, in each piece of literature
produced by postcolonial writers. If one is to read this literature in
a way which will shed some light on the postcolonial condition, one must
understand and adopt the theory that we are all walking amalgamations of
our own unique cultures and traditions. We are all always struggling with
our own identities, personal and national. We must understand that there
is no "one true voice" representing an easily identifiable postcolonial
condition, but, instead, each author is his or her own voice and must be
read as such.