Imperialism and Literature: Manipulation and Representation of Culture in the Colonial

and Postcolonial World

In his novel Decolonising the Mind, author Ngugi wa Thiong’o stated “The oppressed and

the exploited of the earth maintain their defiance: liberty from theft. But the biggest weapon

wielded and actually daily unleashed by imperialism against that collective defiance is the

cultural bomb” (3). The “cultural bomb” Thiong’o explains, is a method of manipulating

culture wherein colonizers “annihilate a people's belief in their” names, languages,

environments, heritage of struggle, unity, capacities, and “ultimately in themselves" (3). One

platform through which colonizers deploy the cultural bomb is literature. Literature has the

power to manipulate culture and identity, and to shape and reshape the world. While this

power has been harnessed by Western imperialism against the non-European world, it also

holds the capacity to shape the postcolonial world in combat of Western imperialism. The

study and consideration of this power, while argued by some to simply be a political agenda

or argument, is instead a powerful literary feature that must not be delegated outside of the

field of literary criticism.

In this essay, I will examine the powerful role of literature in the relationship between

culture and imperialism through discussion of Edward Said’s 1978 book Orientalism and

Pheng Cheah’s 2016 book What is a World? On Postcolonial Literature as World Literature,

among other texts. I will compare their ideas on world-building in discussion of how

literature has been used as a tool of imperialism, as well as how it can be used as a tool in

combatting imperialism. I will then look at the debate– which has been stimulated by

discussions of colonial and postcolonial literature– surrounding the inclusion or exclusion of

politics/content in literary criticism. I will not only argue the difficulty of trying to separate

politics from criticism, but the relevance of politics to criticism.

Both Edward Said and Pheng Cheah have written extensively on how the Western world

manipulated the culture of the non-West in order to perpetuate racist stereotypes, assert a

hegemonic “European identity as a superior one in comparison with all the non-European

peoples and cultures” (Said 7), and whose representations are a form “epistemic violence that

shapes how colonized subjects see themselves” (Cheah 8). Looking first at Orientalism, Said

lays the ground work for how this manipulation occurs. While his focus is not on literature,

his ideas about representations of image and oppressed peoples are vital to postcolonial

literary theory. Often, too, the cultural manipulation taking places is done through literature.

Said describes the Orient as “almost a European invention” (1), the Western world’s

skewed image constructed to be representative of the Eastern world and “the Other” (1). The

Other, to the West, can be any non-European people or place. This could include everything

from the Orient to indigenous Africa, Australia, and Americas. The West, especially Western

imperialist powers, designates those to be the “Other,” then defines the criteria and crafts the

truths that in fact make them Other (this can be called “othering”). It is interesting to consider

Sigmund Freud’s ideas on the Uncanny here. One reason why the manipulation of culture

was so successful a tool for imperialism was due to its portrayal of the Other as backward or

the antithesis to the West, as savage in a way that was “once familiar,” yet “evokes fear and

dread” (Freud 123). By making the Other “uncanny,” they become “that species of the

frightening that goes back to what was once well known and had long been familiar” (Freud

124). The Other is seen as savage and frightening as once all humans were, and it seems the

duty of the West to step in. Even mentioning literature, Freud states “the creative writer can

allow himself [to choose] whether to present a world that conforms with the reader's familiar

reality or one that in some way deviates from it” (156). In its representations, Western
discourse about the Other equates to colonial power. Said contends that examining this

discourse as defined by Michel Foucault is necessary to understanding the hegemonic

relationship between the West and the Other.

Foucault describes discourse as “practices that systematically form the objects of which

they speak” (49), not simply representations of the objects. This explains the success of the

“Western style for dominating, restructuring, and having authority over the Orient” and “the

enormously systematic discipline by which European culture was able to manage-and even

produce-the Orient” (Said 3). By emphasizing Foucault’s definition of discourse, Said posits

that when Western discourse ‘manages’ and ‘produces’ images of the Other, it is not simply

describing Western representation of the Other; the discourse (particularly that which is

found in literature) gives form to these images. This discourse “confirms” Western ideas and

stereotypes about the Other and aims to cause internal conflict in the colonized by altering

their perceptions of self. Frantz Fanon, too, examines this distortion, stating that the final aim

of colonization was to condition the colonized people into believing the “colonial mother is

protecting the child from itself, from its ego, its physiology, its biology, and its ontological

misfortune” (149). Consequently, when this distortion of culture alters Western and

indigenous thought, it facilitates the West to decide to conquer or otherwise mistreat the

Other. The interest for literary criticism lies in how literature perpetuates this distortion.

With Said discussing the power of the manipulation of the Other by Western imperial

powers, Cheah draws the focus to “world literature as a form of world-making” (3), and

particularly how post-colonial literature allows us to redefine the world. When he argues that

world literature has the power to make worlds, he does not mean it creates a virtual

representation of the real world, nor does it simply map the hierarchical “relations of power

and inequality” (4). Continuing in line with Foucault’s definition of discourse, Cheah agrees

that Western representations directly shape the real world. However, in order for global
literature to enact change and remake the postcolonial world, our perception of the world

requires the “unifying power of temporalization” (Cheah 9) or “worlding” (Cheah 8).

Essentially, he argues we must not consider the world as a purely geographical entity

(Eurocentrically mapped by the imperial West), thus reducing it “to the sum of objects in

space” (8) which generally presents literature in relation to the dominant power’s values. We

must instead consider the world as a temporal entity, in which many different populations

(including colonizers and the colonized) exist, differently but together. The openness of the

temporal worldview “puts all beings into relation [and gives] access to other beings” (Cheah

9); encourages a wider observation of the world and literature which “transcends spatial

networks” (Cheah 6); and “seeks to understand the normative force [the power to change the

world according to certain norms] that literature can exert in the world, [and] the

ethicopolitical horizon it opens up for the existing world” (Cheah 5). In this way, literature

will engender people to look toward the future, realize and establish global human ideals, and

stimulate ethical action.

When you think of the world as a spatial object, examination of postcolonial world

literature simply becomes geographic evidence showing or attempting to fighting the effects

of Imperialism, the dominant ideology. By considering it through the temporal lense,

however, global literature works to explain why postcolonial places and peoples are the way

they are. Global Literature through the temporal lense considers precolonial, colonial, and

postcolonial time and event, and uses these observations to contribute to normative force,

thus redefining the world and its values and norms. For a useful case study, these ideas can be

used to examine Joseph Conrad’s 1902 novella Heart of Darkness, a work that has long been

heralded as a work of literary genius, as well as criticized by some as a racist work

perpetuating negative stereotypes of Africa and its culture.

 Looking past its racism and stereotypical imagery, Conrad’s Heart of Darkness was

intended to criticize Imperialism in Africa. The mistreatment of the indigenous people was

portrayed as cruel, and the novel’s main antagonist promoted violence against natives,

presenting to the natives as deities, and even “Exterminating all the brutes!” (Conrad 58).

Despite Conrad’s intents, Cheah’s ideas on worlding/temporalization remind us that

considering how values and norms (in this case those of Conrad) shape literature is a spatial,

reactionary approach which examines how Conrad’s novel was responding to geopolitically

situated Imperialism. Instead, we must consider the vice versa: how literature can shape

values and norms. If Conrad was in fact criticizing imperialism, then examining how Heart

of Darkness was shaped by racist and imperialistic values and norms is less effective in

combating racism than examining how Heart of Darkness can itself shape values and norms.

Considering it temporally means considering it as part of a temporal process in which pre-to-

postcolonialism is situated and responding to it in contribution to the normative force of

certain values. We as readers and critics are not examining what values Conrad was trying to

argue. We are examining the content of his novel critically, and deciding, as a temporal

world, not a geographical one, what values and norms are important. In this way, literature

can be a global platform for identifying universal values. Regarding Heart of Darkness,

some, such as Nigerian author and critic Chinua Achebe, argue its shaping of values is for the

worst.

Having examined Said’s and Cheah’s ideas on world-building, literature, and culture in

the postcolonial world, I will now look further at arguments regarding the role of content and

politics in literary criticism. This is relevant to the discussion on postcolonial literature and

imperial manipulation of culture because it directly involves the inclusion of postcolonial and

political criticism in literary criticism. I will first look at Chinua Achebe’s critical response to
Heart of Darkness, before examining arguments supporting and opposing the consideration

of politics and content in literary criticism.

For Heart of Darkness, the ‘Orient’ is “a place of darkness” (Conrad 10) called Africa, or

more specifically, the Belgian-controlled State of the Congo. Achebe describes Heart of

Darkness as the best example of the desire/need “in Western psychology to set Africa up as a

foil to Europe, as a place of negations at once remote and vaguely familiar” (15). It is

interesting here to recall the earlier discussion of Freud’s ideas of the Uncanny, something

that “was once well known and had long been familiar.” (124). Achebe stated he “[does] not

doubt Conrad’s great talents” (21) but condemned “His obvious racism” (22) which had gone

largely unaddressed by literary critics and academics. He brings up many points in line with

Said’s and Cheah’s ideas, such as how Conrad furthers the stereotypical Western conceptions

of Africa and the ways in which literature continues to shape the real world today. Achebe

also criticizes its inclusion as one of the greats: “the question is whether a novel which

celebrates [the dehumanization of Africa and Africans], which depersonalizes a portion of the

human race, can be called a great work of art. My answer is: No, it cannot” (21). For Achebe,

the shortcomings of the content overpower the skilfulness of the form. Naturally, Achebe’s

essay received both support and criticism.

The most popular counterargument comes from author and Sussex University English

professor Cedric Watts. Watts argues that Achebe insinuates “whites are disqualified on

racial grounds from judging the text” (196) and deems Achebe’s reading of Conrad’s novel as

one of personal politics. Watts contends a distinction from politics stating “Achebe's premise

is that a literary work is good if it implies recommendations which he regards as humane, and

bad (however great its incidental merits) if it implies recommendations which he regards as

inhumane.” (206). He argues against this, stating that “vitality of embodiment is what counts

in the work of merit.” (207). According to Watts, how skillfully a novels ideas are portrayed
decides its merit. This is not decided by the morality of the ideas or if you agree or disagree

with the ideas. Here, Watts is echoing arguments made by many literary theorists and critics

who herald form over content. For example, poet and critic Matthew Arnold famously wrote

about the necessity in criticism “to see the object as in itself it really is,” (808) and to refuse

“to lend itself to any of those ulterior, political, practical considerations about ideas” (815).

Writer Susan Sontag, too, advocated for less attention to content/politics and “more attention

to form,” (12), arguing “The best criticism [is that which] dissolves considerations of content

into those of form.” (12). Even Cheah describes students of his who criticized the class’ focus

on literary themes as opposed to literary form (he described this as Eurocentric bias) (15). To

figures such as Watts, Arnold, and Sontag, form decides merit and content seems irrelevant.

While many critics argue to divorce content and form, and advocate to keep politics out of

literary criticism, ideas from Said, Cheah, Fanon, and Achebe convincingly support that such

things are a necessity to criticism, especially surrounding colonial and postcolonial literature.

To start, it is simply too difficult to separate politics from literary criticism. Said argues the

inability of “detaching the scholar from the circumstances of life, from the fact of his

involvement (conscious or unconscious) with a class, a set of beliefs, a social position, or

from the mere activity of being a member of a society” (10), and even criticizes the use of

“political […] as a label to discredit any work for daring to violate the protocol of pretended

suprapolitical objectivity” (10). This very label was used by Watts to discredit Achebe’s

criticism of Conrad. Thus, Watts mirrors “the literary-cultural establishment as a whole” in

disallowing “serious study of imperialism and culture” (Said 13). Cheah, describes this

separation of politics and criticism as “sanctioned ignorance” (16), stating “the sharp

separation of aesthetic form from referential content is dogmatic and reductive” (16).

In addition to arguing political relevance to literary criticism, Cheah argues that, in the

postcolonial world, different places “share thematic and stylistic continuities and enter into
debate with each other” (15), and that aesthetic forms “emerge in response to the social and

political issues that are thematized” (16). Essentially, political events are not only inseparable

from literature, but shape the very literary form that critics like Watts, Arnold, and Sontag

have tried to isolate. Frantz Fanon provides excellent examples of this, such as how native

oral storytelling changed in French-colonial Algeria. Changes in form such as modernization,

narration style, and figure of speech were spurred by a desire to combat French rule and re-

establish oral tradition with “cultural value” (Fanon 174). Similarly, the upbeat jazz style of

bebop was created to combat the stereotypical image of “the broken, desperate yearning” of

the black jazz musician “bemoaning his own misfortune and the racism of the whites” (Fanon

176). This evidences the constructive and critical “interplay between literary form and

content” (Cheah 17).

This essay has examined Said’s and Cheah’s ideas on the cultural and world-creating

power of literature, both in colonial imperialism and the postcolonial world, and has applied

these ideas to the debate regarding politics, literary form, literary content, and literary

criticism. In conclusion, I would like to reiterate my argument that literature is a powerful

shaper of the world and its values and is relevant and necessary to literary criticism. The

study of these things, as Said puts it, “offers a marvelous instance of the interrelations

between society, history, and textuality” (24) which is vital in the understanding of the

postcolonial world and its literature.

 Bibliography

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