Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Srila Nayak
Access provided by UFMG-Universidade Federal de Minas Gerais (5 Nov 2018 18:33 GMT)
Two Narratives of Modernism in Heart of Darkness
SRILA NAYAK
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
effects of empire and racial otherness. More recent readings of Conrad’s novella
mark a departure in the discussion of race from earlier critiques by Chinua
Achebe and Frances B. Singh, in which Heart of Darkness is seen to contain
“suggestions that the evil which the title refers to is to be associated with Afri-
cans, their customs, and their rites” (Singh 43). This solid localization of dark-
ness is contested in Hunt Hawkins’s argument, “The lasting political legacy of
Heart of Darkness, more than any confirmation of racism, has been its alarm
over atrocity” (375). Reading against the grain of the general formula of ana-
lyzing racism in Heart of Darkness, Paul B. Armstrong argues that Conrad’s
representation of the Other is not an act of racism as Achebe alleges, but a
daring and deliberate exploration of the difficulties in understanding “cultural
otherness”: “Conrad is neither a racist nor an exemplary anthropologist but a
skeptical dramatist of epistemological processes. Heart of Darkness is a calcu-
lated failure to depict achieved cross-cultural understanding” (23).
While most accounts of Conrad’s politics of representation in Heart of
Darkness tend to promote a singular reading of Conrad’s modernism as either
germane to an exposé of imperialism and genuinely anti-racist or racist and
weakly anti-imperialist, our understanding of the relations between the text’s
aesthetics and imperialism must take into account the diverse ways in which
various aspects of modernism are shaped by the colonial encounter. In her
essay, Benita Parry revisits Heart of Darkness through the critiques of Chinua
Achebe and V. S. Naipaul and finds them “inadequate to comprehending the
novel’s plural and contradictory discourses” (40). Against Achebe’s charge of
racism in Conrad’s representation of Africa and Naipaul’s defense of the novel’s
“totally accurate reportage” about the “world’s half-made societies” (40), Parry
asserts that the text does not accommodate such univocal readings. Parry, by
turns, recognizes the novel’s capacity for self-critique as well as its “racist
idiom,” (40) its “powerful critique of imperialism as historical undertaking and
ethos” (48) and its simultaneous “complicity with the imperial imaginary”
(47). Parry’s analysis is significant for its recognition of the novel’s unresolved
dialectics, and while I find her study of the novel’s indeterminacies very useful,
my essay focuses more closely upon how the text’s contradictory cultural con-
texts both affirm and deny the aesthetics of literary modernism. Thus, the
analysis that emerges from such a reading refuses an either/or stance with
respect to the relations between aesthetics and a critique of imperialism in
Heart of Darkness, and argues that the compromised nature of Marlow’s per-
ceptions does not nullify the radical and unsettling critique of imperialism that
emerges through the characterization of Kurtz. Nor does a transgressive alter-
ity or self-difference within Kurtz, central to the narrative’s attack upon impe-
n a ya k—Two Narratives of Modernism in Heart of Darkness 31
voice clearly indicates a gulf between his impressions of the Congo and her
people and his transformed perception of the world after he comes into con-
tact with Kurtz.
Below are the two narratives that encapsulate the distance between mere
visual perception and conceptual intelligence:
I. “There were moments when one’s past came back to one; but it came in the shape
of an unrestful and noisy dream remembered with wonder amongst the overwhelm-
ing realities of this strange world of plants and water and silence.” (34)
II. I remained to dream the nightmare out to the end and to show my loyalty to
Kurtz once more. . . . If such is the form of ultimate wisdom then life is a greater
riddle than some of us think it to be. I was within a hair’s breadth of the last oppor-
tunity for pronouncement and I found with humiliation that probably I would have
nothing to say. This is the reason why I affirm that Kurtz was a remarkable man. He
had something to say. (70)
In the former, Marlow presents his listeners with a text that does away with
the necessity for explanation and privileges a narration that only registers the
comatose mind’s perception of a preternatural landscape. In the second pas-
sage, the conceptual takes precedence over the language of psychic disloca-
tion, as retrospect and distance allow Conrad to interpret the significance of
his knowledge of Kurtz. Marlow’s narrative seems to be on the edge of a mod-
ernist “turn inward” towards a non-material identity. However, in his account
of the Congo, Marlow skirts the language of a new consciousness that would
surmount the limitations of the West’s experience of Africa. This projection of
a consciousness enfeebled by the colonial difference it encounters signals Con-
rad’s uncertainty regarding the radical nature of modernist identity, its limita-
tions and contradictions in the face of cultural difference. Conrad’s 1905 essay
on Henry James contains his clear affirmation of consciousness as the crux of
aesthetic value: . . . the demand of the individual to the artist is, in effect, the
cry, ‘Take me out of myself!’ meaning really, out of my perishable activity into
the light of imperishable consciousness” (“Henry James”13). In the same
essay, Conrad goes on to point out that the “light of consciousness” (13) would
help to “interpret the ultimate experience of mankind” (14). Conrad shows the
shrinking of the radical consciousness under the “pressure . . . of dreams and
nightmares” experienced by Marlow and yet also returns to Marlow’s con-
sciousness as a site of revelation and insight into the meaning of life after his
meeting with Kurtz.
Conrad’s self-critique of modernism shows up not only the difficulties of
n a ya k—Two Narratives of Modernism in Heart of Darkness 33
mond Williams makes an important point about how the social and material
world of the Congo is submerged under an abstraction:
Thus, Marlow at various times, invokes the other, only to capture it in the
generalized terms of allegory or colonial ethno-geographic constructs and to
admit the impossibility of a form that would render the specificity or particu-
larity of this extreme experience. Marlow says that he avoided the temptation
of a “response to the terrible frankness” of the other because he had to pay
attention to the “surface-truth” of work, which would have been enough to
save a “wiser man” (36). Yet once again “the mere incidents of the surface”
rescue Marlow from discerning the “inner truth—luckily, luckily” of the
“implacable force” at the heart of darkness (34). Thus, the African subject, in
this context, is not the Romantic medium through which a break with older
forms of consciousness can be achieved; Marlow’s narrative of modernism
confronts the Other with a strenuous grip on the mind that refuses to see,
arresting the impressionist mode, until the other has been exorcized: “It
looked at you with a vengeful aspect . . . I did not see it any more” (34).
However, the narrative of modernism returns in a different guise when
Marlow commences his account of Kurtz. The complex intimacy between
them and Marlow’s pledged “loyalty” to Kurtz become the symbols of radical
forms of consciousness and a new genre of modernist fulfillment. Marlow’s
narrative text repeatedly announces a rupture between the new conventions of
modernism and the conventions of Romance and realism and identifies a
modern consciousness as the point of departure for a new aesthetic model.
Marlow’s self-reflexive subjectivity marks its difference from older forms of
consciousness, by highlighting its perception of a profound evil that is distinct
from Gothic and realist stereotypes of evil and horror that merely reflect emo-
tions attached to visible objects. Thus, Marlow frequently distinguishes the
conventional vileness of the trading outpost Manager from the “ineffable”
amoral force of the tropics and designates the sight of the severed heads on
stakes outside Kurtz’s compound as an experience of a tangible savagery that
36 Co nra d ia na
I was completely unnerved by a sheer blank fright, pure abstract terror, uncon-
nected with any distinct shape of physical danger. What made this emotion so over-
powering was—how shall I define it—the moral shock I received, as if something
altogether monstrous, intolerable to thought and odious to the soul had been thrust
upon me unexpectedly. This lasted of course the merest fraction of a second and
then the usual commonplace deadly danger, the possibility of a sudden onslaught
and massacre, or something of the kind, which I saw impending was positively wel-
come and composing. (64)
Going up that river was like traveling back to the earliest beginnings of time. We
were wanderers on a prehistoric earth, on an earth that wore the aspect of an
unknown planet. We could have fancied ourselves the first of men taking posses-
sion of an accursed inheritance, to be subdued at the cost of profound anguish and
toil. (35)
They howled and leaped and spun and made horrid faces, but what thrilled you was
just the thought of their humanity—like yours—the thought of your remote kinship
with this wild and passionate uproar. Yes, it was ugly enough but if you were man
enough you would admit to yourself that there was in you just the faintest trace of
a response to the terrible frankness of that noise, a dim suspicion of there being a
meaning in it which you—you so remote from the night of first ages—could com-
prehend. And why not? The mind of man is capable of anything—because every-
thing is in it, all the past as well as all the future. What was there after all? Joy, fear,
sorrow, devotion, valor, rage—who can tell?—but truth—truth stripped of its cloak
of time. Let the fool gape and shudder—the man knows and can look on without a
wink. But he must at least be as much a man as these on the shore. He must meet
that truth with his own true stuff—with his own inborn strength. (36)
How could you—with solid pavement under your feet, surrounded by kind neigh-
bors ready to cheer you or to fall on you, stepping delicately between the butcher
and the policeman, in the holy terror of scandal and gallows and lunatic asylums—
how can you imagine what particular region of the first ages a man’s untrammeled
feet may take him into by the way of solitude—utter solitude without a policeman—
by the way of silence—utter silence, where no warning voice of a kind neighbor can
be heard whispering of public opinion. These little things make all the great differ-
ence. When they are gone you must fall back upon your own innate strength, upon
your own capacity for faithfulness.” (49)
The passage is remarkable for the way it urges attention to a transition from
effects upon a Western self at home, fettered by the norms of a hollow modern
culture to the self’s unraveling when it encounters the “utter solitude” of a
“prehistoric earth.” It ends with the counterpoint of personal values (“your
own innate strength,” “your own capacity for faithfulness”) intrinsic to an
exceptional Western subjectivity that offers a surer guard against foreign inva-
sion than the one provided by an adherence to morally impoverished and
instrumentalist rules of conduct in bourgeois society.
Parry draws our attention to the paradox of Conrad’s conservative imperial
critique: “Yet having detached readers from spontaneous trust in imperialism’s
rationale, the fiction introduces themes valorizing the doctrine of cultural alle-
giance as a moral imperative which is independent of the community’s collec-
tive moral conduct” (39). But the foundations of Conrad’s “cultural allegiance”
are constituted by an idealized moral culture that is critical of late nineteenth
century bourgeois community’s notions of morality. The essence of modern-
ism in Heart of Darkness lies in this confrontation between self and the tropics
that restructures relations between self, other and Western modernity. In her
extensive analysis of the novel’s “imperial metropolitan perspective,” (22)
Laura Chrisman persuasively argues that Conrad effectively reveals the “pow-
erful material impact” Western instrumental culture has on subjectivity (24).
Chrisman’s study of the “interplay of the metropolis and imperialism” in Heart
of Darkness effectively connects Conrad’s attack upon imperialism to a critique
of the capitalist ethos of the metropolis: “The text also displays a rather elitist
tendency to detest bourgeois and petty bourgeois metropolitan subjects for
their social conformism, psychological superficiality and existential inauthen-
ticity” (35). The connection between metropolitan modernity and the global
scale of imperialist politics is also at the center of Stephen Ross’s analysis of
Conrad’s portrayal of imperialism. But Conrad’s critique of Western imperial-
ism is also nostalgic about pre-instrumentalist Western civilization, as Mar-
low’s character exemplifies an aversion to passions directed by Western
n a ya k—Two Narratives of Modernism in Heart of Darkness 43
that took in the forest, the creek, the mud, the river—seemed to beckon with a
dishonoring flourish before the sunlit face of the land a treacherous appeal to
the lurking death, to the hidden evil, to the profound darkness of its heart”
(emphasis added, 33).
The interrelation between pathologized tropical nature and corrupt colo-
nial self contributes to the theme of a gradual elimination of a “radical differ-
ence” between a particular form of Western subjectivity and colonial other,
that reformulates the limits and boundaries of nineteenth-century discourse of
the polarization of races. Achebe points out that Africa is represented as a
“metaphysical battlefield devoid of all recognizable humanity, into which the
wandering European humanity enters at his peril. Can nobody see the prepos-
terous and perverse arrogance in thus reducing Africa to the role of props for
the break-up of one petty European mind? (344).” Achebe’s critique while cor-
rect in its identification of the novel’s racial ideology has also consolidated an
approach that does not pay sufficient attention to the complexities of a repre-
sentation that cannot be only captured in terms of cultural and racial binaries.
Conrad simultaneously endorses and disavows racial othering and employs a
particular perspective to propose a relation of identity and difference between
the West and Congo. The identity established between the “profound dark-
ness” of the other and the violent greed of instrumentalist imperialism, to
return to an earlier point of this essay, also institutes a radical difference
between late nineteenth-century Western culture as exemplified by Kurtz and
Marlow’s idealized Western civilization. The opposition between late-nine-
teenth-century imperial subjectivity and the humanist-European subjectivity
of Marlow “who had the pose of a Buddha preaching in European clothes” is
negotiated through a representation of the Congo. The critical assumptions in
Said’s Orientalism are not challenged by the “Conradian scene” of the disorien-
tation of the Western mind upon its encounter with the other, but by an inter-
nally divided Western identity and a reconfigured dynamic of otherness. Thus,
Heart of Darkness’s dialectic of difference opposes Orientalism’s thesis about
the stark binary between a singular imperial Western identity and a racial and
geographical other.
Kurtz is both the arch-representative of a capitalist empire as well as its
antithesis “who ha(s) taken a high seat amongst the devils of the land” (49).
Voicing yet once again a fastidious reluctance to record a reality that would be
appalling to a “fine conscience,” Marlow angrily interrupts the Russian’s
account of Kurtz’s veneration by the Congolese: “I don’t want to know any-
thing of the ceremonies used when approaching Mr. Kurtz” (56). But in yet
another instance of disorienting irony, Conrad carries through the echoes of
Kurtz’s adoration by the “natives” of the Congo when Marlow tells us that the
46 Co nra d ia na
The vision seemed to enter the house with me—the stretcher, the phantom-bearers,
the wild crowd of obedient worshippers, the gloom of the forests, . . . the heart of
a conquering darkness . . . I remembered his abject pleading, his abject threats,
the colossal threat of his vile desires, the meanness, the torment, the tempestuous
anguish of his soul. And later on I seemed to see his collected languid manner when
n a ya k—Two Narratives of Modernism in Heart of Darkness 47
he said one day ‘This lot of ivory now is really mine. The Company did not pay for
it. I collected it myself at a very great personal risk. I am afraid they will try to claim
it as theirs though. What do you think I ought to do—resist? Eh? I want no more
than justice. (73)
The passage’s climax constitutes a moral “inward knowledge,” the real fruit of
Marlow’s quest for Kurtz, of an intimate relationship between Kurtz the hol-
low and avaricious imperialist and Kurtz the high priest of primitive savagery.
The swift movement from memories of the veneration of Kurtz by the Congo-
lese to a remembered conversation about the primary fetish-object of imperial
trade does not immediately produce knowledge about the connection Conrad
wishes to draw between Western imperial desires and non-Western “rituals of
ascendance and power.” Nonetheless, the narrative at multiple points juxta-
poses Marlow’s dual impressions of Kurtz as rapacious colonialist and Kurtz
as presiding deity of “dark” ceremonies in a manner that draws the reader’s
attention beyond a generalized metaphysics of an incomprehensible and dis-
orienting otherness. Beyond the narrative’s overt statements of a metaphysical
or ontological darkness that encompasses the landscape of the Congo, her
people and Kurtz is the skein of meaning that employs Kurtz as a pivot to
achieve a correlation between imperialist capitalism and anti-civilizational
otherness. However, the ambiguity of meaning does not relate to Kurtz alone
but also extends to the Congo which enacts the role of a supplement as it
simultaneously functions as an inassimilable and unrepresentable other as
well as a signifier that gives substance to Kurtz’s final words: “the horror, the
horror.” The Congo acts as substitute, antithesis and supplement to Western
civilization depending on whether it is opposed to an essential core of West-
ern civilization and the Western subject’s (Marlow) vaunted values or whether
it is viewed as an ally of the dark desires of Kurtz.
In Heart of Darkness, as I have emphasized, the modernist contract of cap-
turing radical experience through a new relationship between representation
and consciousness is breached by the persistent presence of nineteenth-cen-
tury paradigms of knowledge of the other. Conrad’s frequent depiction of Mar-
low’s narrative, in terms antithetical and forgetful of his definition of
impressionism in “Preface to Nigger of Narcissus,” functions as a partial cri-
tique of modernism and the challenges of achieving an idealized collaboration
between consciousness and mode of representation. Besides this self-critique,
I have argued that the text also demonstrates that the formation of modernism
is filled with contradictions in its aspirations for new forms of consciousness
and identity, when placed in a colonial setting outside the ambit of European
48 Co nra d ia na
WORKS CITED
Achebe, Chinua. “An Image of Africa: Racism in Conrad’s Heart of Darkness.” Heart of
Darkness. Ed. Paul B. Armstrong. New York: W. W. Norton, 2006. 336–349.
Armstrong, Paul B. “Heart of Darkness and the Epistemology of Cultural Differences.”
Under Postcolonial Eyes: Joseph Conrad After Empire. Ed. Gail Fincham and Myrtle
Hooper. Rondebosch: University of Cape Town Press, 1996. 21–39.
Brantlinger, Patrick. Rule of Darkness: British Literature and Imperialism, 1830–1914. New
York: Cornell University Press, 1990.
Chrisman, Laura. Postcolonial Contraventions: Cultural Readings of Race, Imperialism, and
Transnationalism. London: Manchester University Press, 2003. 21–38.
Conrad, Joseph. Heart of Darkness. Ed. Paul B. Armstrong. New York: W. W. Norton, 2006.
———. The nigger of the Narcissus: a tale of the forecastle. Garden City, New York: Dou-
bleday, Page & company, 1919.
———. “Henry James: An Appreciation.” Notes on Life and Letters. Garden City, New
York: Doubleday, Page & company, 1924. 11–19.
Davies, Laurence. “The Thing Which Was Not”’ and The Thing That Is Also.” Conrad in the
Twenty-First Century. Ed. Carola Kaplan, Peter Maillos, and Andrea White. New
York: Routledge, 2005. 223–240.
Gikandi, Simon. “Africa and the Epiphany of Modernism.” Geomodernisms: race, modern-
ism, modernity. Ed. Laura Doyle and Laura A. Winkiel. Bloomington: Indiana Univer-
sity Press, 2005. 31–50.
Harpham, Geoffrey G. “Beyond Mastery: The Future of Conrad’s Beginnings.” Conrad in
the Twenty-First Century. Ed. Carola Kaplan, et al. New York: Routledge, 2005. 17–38.
Hawkins, Hunt. “Heart of Darkness and Racism.” Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. Ed.
Paul B. Armstrong. New York: W. W. Norton, 2006. 365–375.
Jameson, Frederic. The Political Unconscious: Narrative as a Socially Symbolic Art. Ithaca:
Cornell University Press, 1981.
Matz, Jesse. Literary Impressionism and Modernist Aesthetics. Massachusetts: Cambridge
University Press, 2001.
Miller, J. Hillis. “Should We Read ‘Heart of Darkness”? Heart of Darkness by Joseph Con-
rad. Ed. Paul B. Armstrong. New York: W.W. Norton, 2006.
———. “Foreward.” Conrad in the Twenty-First Century. Ed. Carola Kaplan, et al. New
York: Routledge, 2005. 1–14.
Moses, Michael Valdez. “Disorientalism: Conrad and the Imperial Origins of Modernist
Aesthetics.” Modernism and Colonialism: British and Irish Literature, 1899–1939. Ed.
Richard Begam and Michael Valdez-Moses. Durham: Duke University Press, 2007.
Parry, Benita. “The Moment and After-Life of Heart of Darkness.” Conrad in the Twenty-
First Century. Ed. Carola Kaplan, et al. New York: Routledge, 2005. 39–53.
n a ya k—Two Narratives of Modernism in Heart of Darkness 49