The Power of Language
This week the reading by Thiong’o really struck me. It also made me feel sort of helpless when I thought about the way that we as academics approach the subject. I am sure I will never know or experience the hardship he went through at school; of being forced to speak the language of the colonisers and then being treated differently according to the level of mastery of the language. I am sure none of my 101 students would enjoy it if I placed every one of them in a hierarchy according to their French! I am pretty sure there would be some serious uproar as well. Yet this is what children have been subjected to in Africa where imperialism continues to control.
My feelings of helplessness arise because in reading the various texts for the week I became aware that the only way that I will ever know or be made familiar with the struggles of the writers who have decided to speak out and seize back their culture and history is by sitting at my kitchen table with a cup of tea only imagining how bad it could have been for them. I have to say that I do feel a sense of guilt and shame in this approach. I guess it’s like a sort of boiled-down version of chapter two of Thiong’o’s text where they sat around at the conference discussing what African literature was or could be. There’s lots of hypothesizing and discussion, but where is the action and involvement?
I admire the way Thiong’o writes and agree with him when he talks about language as culture, in that it is the product of a particular history, he states that “culture is a product of the history which it in turn reflects” (1134). In connection with this I also enjoyed the way he wrote about hearing stories in his mother tongue and how they “learnt the music of [their] language” (1131), this really emphasized the pleasure and enjoyment he derived from his mother tongue Gikiyu, and made it all the more heartbreaking to hear that “the language of my education was no longer the language of my culture” (1131). I think the points he brings up about how cultural invasion is related to language are very important, and while it was tough to read it was also insightful for me to consider the things he writes about, albeit from a distance.
The Power of Language
This week the reading by Thiong’o really struck me. It also made me feel sort of helpless when I thought about the way that we as academics approach the subject. I am sure I will never know or experience the hardship he went through at school; of being forced to speak the language of the colonisers and then being treated differently according to the level of mastery of the language. I am sure none of my 101 students would enjoy it if I placed every one of them in a hierarchy according to their French! I am pretty sure there would be some serious uproar as well. Yet this is what children have been subjected to in Africa where imperialism continues to control.
My feelings of helplessness arise because in reading the various texts for the week I became aware that the only way that I will ever know or be made familiar with the struggles of the writers who have decided to speak out and seize back their culture and history is by sitting at my kitchen table with a cup of tea only imagining how bad it could have been for them. I have to say that I do feel a sense of guilt and shame in this approach. I guess it’s like a sort of boiled-down version of chapter two of Thiong’o’s text where they sat around at the conference discussing what African literature was or could be. There’s lots of hypothesizing and discussion, but where is the action and involvement?
I admire the way Thiong’o writes and agree with him when he talks about language as culture, in that it is the product of a particular history, he states that “culture is a product of the history which it in turn reflects” (1134). In connection with this I also enjoyed the way he wrote about hearing stories in his mother tongue and how they “learnt the music of [their] language” (1131), this really emphasized the pleasure and enjoyment he derived from his mother tongue Gikiyu, and made it all the more heartbreaking to hear that “the language of my education was no longer the language of my culture” (1131). I think the points he brings up about how cultural invasion is related to language are very important, and while it was tough to read it was also insightful for me to consider the things he writes about, albeit from a distance.
Curricula, Colonialism and Mansfield Park
One of the things I found very interesting about all of this week’s readings was that they each presented a different focus and perspective on discussions of postcolonial and transnational studies. Loomba makes us reflect on what might be a use of terms that comes as second nature to us but that might also serve to propagate stereotypes (often without the intention or realization of doing so). Loomba also draws our attention to the very important distinction that not all counties that are technically in ‘post-colonial’ situations have the same experience of or relationship to the former colonizing nations, and that we must always remember that the meanings of terms such as colonialism and imperialism should be seen as fluctuating according to context and to situation.
Thiong’o puts forth a discussion that is extremely relevant to today’s academic practices, and one that rings a significant degree of similarity to discussions that sometimes surface in the country and at the university that we study at; I remember the Department of English discussion two to three years ago about making an Indigenous Studies course (either the Indigenous Foundations course, a First Nations studies course, or the 400-level English Lit course focused on First Nations literature) a requirement for an English major degree (I believe there was also a concurrent discussion about making a First Nations studies-focused course a requirement for the larger BA program as well). I’ve since graduated from the program, but taking a look at the UBC calendar, I can see that such requirements have not been implemented for either the BA or the English Lit major (the anthology’s introduction to this section is also very illuminating, and I am reminded of this as I type the name of the major).
What has been implemented, however, is an Aboriginal Rights and Treaties course at UBC’s Faculty of Law, as part of the students’ Constitutional Law training. While not related to our immediate study of literature or theory, I believe this example is important because the legal system is an integral – if not perhaps the most powerful – part of today’s society in Canada. It’s important to note that this change in the curriculum did not take place until 2012 (in the law school’s defense, it does a great reputation for its emphasis on teaching Aboriginal law and I think they should be praised for taking the lead on developing this requirement in order to make sure that the proper time is allotted for its study; my understanding is that studies of treaties were always included but different profs taught them at different points in the curriculum – this way everything is more solidified and the proper study time is guaranteed. Hopefully more law schools in Canada will follow UBC’s example as one can’t help but wonder how law students can learn about constitutional law and not discuss treaties). For a complete explanation of how and why the law school did this, please see the following article: http://www.canadianlawyermag.com/4315/UBC-making-aboriginal-law-course-mandatory.html.
I also found Bhaha’s discussion of the ambivalence and mimicry as part of the larger explanation of how colonialism works very interesting, and McClintock’s framing of her argument around Benjamin’s concept of the Angel of History was very fitting. However, the excerpt that I was interested in this week was Said’s “Jane Austen and Empire,” because of the way that he used Mansfield Park as an example that stretched forth his arguments. It was very interesting to read a discussion of one of Jane Austen’s works not in the usual realm where one can find her work discussed, such as the use of satire, the social novel, treaties on the role and position of women in English society, etc. – but within a discussion of colonialism. Of course, this has a lot to do with Said’s point – how Western discourse often underwrote colonial policy and licensed further imperial undertakings. I read Mansfield Park quite a few years ago and can remember almost nothing of the 1999 film production that I saw at the time (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oW1iLzHeG1s), but when recalling the basic plot of the novel when I saw Said’s mention of it, I did remember that Sir Thomas’ absence was explained as due to him having to ‘look after business affairs’ in Antigua.
Said’s mention of the fact that we never see Sir Thomas in Antigua – as in, there is never a moment of dialogue or any scene set there – is very interesting; I don’t remember this striking me as odd when reading the novel, as Austen’s works are so focused on the microcosm of the English estate and the furthest places from the estate that are ever depicted are the locations of seasonal stays. However, the fact that this didn’t strike me as odd really is indicative of how the entire apparatus works; both these affluent estates and other seasonal homes are sustained by the exploitation taking place in Antigua (in this case). The article’s tracing of how domestic and international authority are joined by Austen is well-established. The example of how when Sir Thomas returns to the estate, he immediately ‘fixes everything’ also presents an implication that he engaged in the same action in Antigua, and therefore, advances the view that ‘there’s nothing he can’t fix’ is very crucial (in my opinion) to Said’s article. It is for such reasons that Mansfield Park and perhaps others of Austen’s novels are so interesting to subject to Said’s analysis – precisely because they would not be the first example that comes to mind.
Curricula, Colonialism and Mansfield Park
One of the things I found very interesting about all of this week’s readings was that they each presented a different focus and perspective on discussions of postcolonial and transnational studies. Loomba makes us reflect on what might be a use of terms that comes as second nature to us but that might also serve to propagate stereotypes (often without the intention or realization of doing so). Loomba also draws our attention to the very important distinction that not all counties that are technically in ‘post-colonial’ situations have the same experience of or relationship to the former colonizing nations, and that we must always remember that the meanings of terms such as colonialism and imperialism should be seen as fluctuating according to context and to situation.
Thiong’o puts forth a discussion that is extremely relevant to today’s academic practices, and one that rings a significant degree of similarity to discussions that sometimes surface in the country and at the university that we study at; I remember the Department of English discussion two to three years ago about making an Indigenous Studies course (either the Indigenous Foundations course, a First Nations studies course, or the 400-level English Lit course focused on First Nations literature) a requirement for an English major degree (I believe there was also a concurrent discussion about making a First Nations studies-focused course a requirement for the larger BA program as well). I’ve since graduated from the program, but taking a look at the UBC calendar, I can see that such requirements have not been implemented for either the BA or the English Lit major (the anthology’s introduction to this section is also very illuminating, and I am reminded of this as I type the name of the major).
What has been implemented, however, is an Aboriginal Rights and Treaties course at UBC’s Faculty of Law, as part of the students’ Constitutional Law training. While not related to our immediate study of literature or theory, I believe this example is important because the legal system is an integral – if not perhaps the most powerful – part of today’s society in Canada. It’s important to note that this change in the curriculum did not take place until 2012 (in the law school’s defense, it does a great reputation for its emphasis on teaching Aboriginal law and I think they should be praised for taking the lead on developing this requirement in order to make sure that the proper time is allotted for its study; my understanding is that studies of treaties were always included but different profs taught them at different points in the curriculum – this way everything is more solidified and the proper study time is guaranteed. Hopefully more law schools in Canada will follow UBC’s example as one can’t help but wonder how law students can learn about constitutional law and not discuss treaties). For a complete explanation of how and why the law school did this, please see the following article: http://www.canadianlawyermag.com/4315/UBC-making-aboriginal-law-course-mandatory.html.
I also found Bhaha’s discussion of the ambivalence and mimicry as part of the larger explanation of how colonialism works very interesting, and McClintock’s framing of her argument around Benjamin’s concept of the Angel of History was very fitting. However, the excerpt that I was interested in this week was Said’s “Jane Austen and Empire,” because of the way that he used Mansfield Park as an example that stretched forth his arguments. It was very interesting to read a discussion of one of Jane Austen’s works not in the usual realm where one can find her work discussed, such as the use of satire, the social novel, treaties on the role and position of women in English society, etc. – but within a discussion of colonialism. Of course, this has a lot to do with Said’s point – how Western discourse often underwrote colonial policy and licensed further imperial undertakings. I read Mansfield Park quite a few years ago and can remember almost nothing of the 1999 film production that I saw at the time (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oW1iLzHeG1s), but when recalling the basic plot of the novel when I saw Said’s mention of it, I did remember that Sir Thomas’ absence was explained as due to him having to ‘look after business affairs’ in Antigua.
Said’s mention of the fact that we never see Sir Thomas in Antigua – as in, there is never a moment of dialogue or any scene set there – is very interesting; I don’t remember this striking me as odd when reading the novel, as Austen’s works are so focused on the microcosm of the English estate and the furthest places from the estate that are ever depicted are the locations of seasonal stays. However, the fact that this didn’t strike me as odd really is indicative of how the entire apparatus works; both these affluent estates and other seasonal homes are sustained by the exploitation taking place in Antigua (in this case). The article’s tracing of how domestic and international authority are joined by Austen is well-established. The example of how when Sir Thomas returns to the estate, he immediately ‘fixes everything’ also presents an implication that he engaged in the same action in Antigua, and therefore, advances the view that ‘there’s nothing he can’t fix’ is very crucial (in my opinion) to Said’s article. It is for such reasons that Mansfield Park and perhaps others of Austen’s novels are so interesting to subject to Said’s analysis – precisely because they would not be the first example that comes to mind.
As Foucault said: “Maybe the target nowadays is not to discover what we are but to refuse what we are.”
This week, Thiong’s article is definitely the one that “got me”. As I started to read, I expected him to try to define post-colonialism without necessarily reaching a clear definition. The other articles talked about post-colonialism, always referring to territories that are no longer under official domination. Here, Thiong talked about any territories that have been subjected to colonialism, whether they are still a colony or not. I was pleased to see his concerns about language and education in relation to (post-) colonialism. As I kept reading, I started to recognize so many of the facts he was mentioning. It all suddenly sounded so familiar. Should we use both the colonizer’s language and the local language? Should we give priority to the local language in these times of globalisation? How to combine both and can it be done? And what about culture? Literature? So many questions I have been asking myself for the past few years.
First, I think there may be certain things that are right when he talked about the three aspects of language as communication. He mentioned that these aspects are “broken” in colonial territories which lead to colonial alienation. That confusion of the child who experiences the world through his native language before having that conception of life in a given language shattered by a conception of life imposed through a different language is, unfortunately, so familiar. As I was reading that section of his article, I was thinking about my childhood. My first language was Creole. I spoke it at home, in the streets, with my friends, with my family, etc. The only times I would hear some French, would be on tv, sometimes on the radio (songs for example) or I would see it in books or on administrative documents. I was aware of the presence of the French language and understood it, but it was a “far-away” language, something that existed but to which I did not necessarily relate. When I started school at 3 years old, the teachers were communicating in Creole with us. Back in my days, Creole would be the language used in class until you turn 8-9years old. Then, Creole and French were used in the classroom before switching to French only. It was a weird experience as I felt like a message was sent to the students that Creole should remain in the streets and French would be the language of the “educated”. I remember the times when the transition was happening for me. I used to go to the library once a week, and one week, I saw a contest where the participants were supposed to write a poem about the “Creole essence”. I did not really know at the time what that meant for I was only 8 or 9 years old, so I asked my dad. He explained to me that “Creole essence” would refer to something that “screams” Creole to me. It took me a few weeks and I found it. Not that I could not think of anything, but I was having a hard time choosing amongst different things. As soon as I picked THE one for me, I started to write my little poem. I was so pleased with myself when I posted it and waited for the postman every day. One day, a letter finally arrived, inviting me to a picnic where the results will be announced. I was able to convince my family, and we all went to the long-awaited picnic. After spending the whole day by the sea, the organizers were finally announcing the results. I was so excited!! Finally, the results! My joy turned, very quickly, into a failure to understand. I was so confused. I was not mad, I just wanted to cry. So confused. The winner wrote a poem in French. The poem was read out loud and was so vague, so general, that unless we did not know that it was a contest organized in Reunion Island, we would have no idea it was about the island. It could have been applied to any places. It was written in such a perfect French too. I sat there and listened and did not understand. My dad told me that “Creole essence” meant something that screamed Creole to me, so I wrote a poem in Creole about a culinary experience that is purely local. For me, something that “screams” Creole could only be written in creole. The organizers asked all the participants to come grab some prizes. Against my will, I went to grab mine when they asked me what I wrote about. When I told them, they smiled at me saying something like “Oh that was you!! That was so funny!! You did a great job!” I looked at them and said “Yeah but I did not win, I was not even second or third” and they answered “You should have known better! You wrote in Creole!” I did not understand then, until they told me that I was fourth. The first three winners all wrote in French. Shall I tell you what was the prize? The “Little Prince” by Antoine de St Exupery written in Creole! I never wrote anything again after that. Later, my years at lycée were years of rebellion against the supremacy of the French language but mostly the French culture imposed in class. I automatically thought of that experience when I read Thiong: « [...] the harmony existing between the three aspects of language as communication was broken. This resulted in the dissociation of sensibility of that child from his natural and social environment, what we might call colonial alienation. [...] Since culture is a product of the history of a people which it in turn reflects, the child was now being exposed exclusively to a culture that was a product of a world external to himself. He was being made to stand outside himself to look at himself.” (p. 1135) It is interesting to see that, today, there is an on-going debate to make French a second language acquisition in Reunion Island. The debate remains an openly passionate one as many contest the possibility for a still-colonial territory to operate a switch between the current official language (French) and the current main language (Creole).
So what is “Post-colonialism”? So what is every term?
It is very common that in many academic texts, the author use some specific terms that they presuppose the reader already know. But, it is true that it would be impossible to write an essay explaining every term, it would suppose an enormous list of footnotes or derivations in other essays. Nevertheless, it is very interesting when a term is put over the table and there comes a discussion around it. This is the case of the term “post-colonialism”. In the essays “Situating Colonial and Poscolonial Studies, by Ania Loomba, and “The Angel of Progress: Pitfalls of the Term ‘Post-colonialism’”, by Anne McClintock, the term “post-colonialism” is somehow deconstructed.
In the case of Loomb, she concludes that “[T]he word ‘poscolonial’ is useful in indicating a general process with some shared features across the globe. But if is uprooted from specific locations, ‘poscoloniality’ cannot be meaningfully investigated, and instead, the term begin to obscure the very relations of domination that it seeks to uncover” (1110). In other words, the term “poscolonial” could be consider a generic term, a simplification, but if we want to be more precise, it has to be deeply investigated, it is, see how it could work in different contexts. If it is used only as a generic term, then, as she said, the effect is the contrary: their goal of its investigation is not accomplished or, at least, is not accurate (if this word could be used in the field of cultural, literary or social studies).
McClintock is fiercer in her critique. In a general sense, she says: “Historically voided, categories such as ‘the other’, ‘the signifier’, ‘the signified’, ‘the subject’, ‘the phalus’, ‘the poscolonial’, while having academic clout and professional marketability, run the risk of telescoping crucial geo-political distinctions into invisibility” (1187). Again, here is pointed out the idea that the use of generic terms has the risk of make invisible the presence of a diverse reality. In other words, it is very important to consider the reality or the context when we apply on of these terms. Of course, this is the case of ‘post-colonialism’: “As the organizing rubric of an emerging field of disciplinary studies and an archive of knowledge, the term ‘poscolonialism’ makes possible the marketing of a whole new generations of panels, articles, books and courses” (1192). I think the main idea of this critique here (and of the article in general) is that this term is very debatable since it is used to very different historic processes, some times indiscriminately. Beyond the academic field, the reality is much more effervescent, we might say.
So, what is “post-colonialism”? I would say, it depends. Depends of the context that we are talking about. But also depends of the interpretation of the term that the authors have of it. This is very important, because the context is not only given by the reality, the history, but also by the author and his or her ideas. The object of study (I don’t like the word “object”, because creates a distance and presuppose a scientific approach, which is not our field) and the author are mediated, in first place, by the pre-judgments of him or her. But, as Gadamer said, the pre-judgments are not wrong if they are used as points of departure of the investigation instead of create a distance or a distortion beforehand.
Finally, I think that this debate around the term “post-colonialism” could make us think about theoretical terms in general. We may say that they are only signifiers; they do not have an ultimate signified. They always depend on the context (reality and author, to synthetize), so they cannot constitute a “sign”. They are a differance, which trace is the context where they are applied. But, this only my interpretation.
How to decolonize the academia?
In “Decolonizing the mind”, Ngugi wa Thiong’o presents a reflection about how the English language and academia built on Kenya a way of perceiving the world through the eyes of the British culture and imperialist language.
The text structure addresses different stages. After a brief introduction about the topic, the author explains his own experience remembering how in his natal place and his home, he used the Gĩkũyũ language and it works for every single aspect of his everyday life, including oral stories that identify him with his community. Later, the appearance of the colonial language, the English, transforms his life completely since in the school he has to learn a new code, a new structure and a new culture since the books that the British brings are those that represent the European values. The reflection take him to analyze the importance of the language for building the culture and how the language is culture itself for three reasons: 1) the culture is product and reflection of human beings communicating with each other; 2) language as culture is as an image-forming agent in the mind of the child; 3) culture transmits those images of the world and reality through the written and spoken language (1134). In that order of ideas, when the English language is imposed in Africa, the African culture is submitted to the English culture.
Thiong’o notices that this process is more clear in the writing language, where the child can not express his or herself in an emotional way, but the writing becomes a “cerebral activity” (1135), since the school language is not related with the language of home.
The article turns to question aloud what to do to decolonize the mind of children that have received or are receiving classes about European literature and not African in English language. The conclusion is a “quest for relevance”, process in which Thiong’o wants “to look for at it far as relates, not to just the writing of literature, but to teaching of that literature [African literature] in schools and universities and to the critical approaches” (1138). So he summarize discussions about how to propose the African literature as centre and not periphery of the literary education, and how this literature should nurture from the others literatures. He even mentions that Indian, Caribbean and Latin American literature should be add to the academic programs since they share a lot of things in common.
Thiong’o extract make me think about how the education I received also perpetuated colonial ideas. For instance, when I study my B.A. in Literature in Universidad Nacional, many of the professors who taught me had obtained their Masters and PhD in French universities. For that reason their classes cover a lot of European literature but, over all, French literature. For instance, the Literary Theories that I took were specific studies about one or two authors, some of them were Barthes, Lukács, Goldman, Saussure, Ubersfeld, Bourdieu, Gennete, a little of Benjamin, who is not French but German (but we read his text about Baudelaire) and Bahtin. Actually, I did not receive much information about North American or British theorists (perhaps Raymond Williams and Northrop Frye), but almost nothing about Latin American approaches. Literature classes were about Colombian, Latin America and Spain; but we also had these group of classes called “Universal Literature”, and this classes were about important authors of the world in different historic moments but we did not read Li-po, Chinua Achebe or Tagore, we read Dante, Bocaccio, Flaubert, Dostojevski, Kafka, Ionesco… European authors. I think is important to recognize when my professors studied their B.A., during the 1970’s and 1980’s, many of them studied in the very same Universidad Nacional, a public university deeply politicized to the left, so the United States were seen like the epitome of the “yankee imperialism”, and not many students look for North American universities to complete their graduate education. I do not know about Canada, but probably it was not seen with good eyes. So the majority of students, who later would be professors in this university, saw Europe, but over all France, as the possible place where they can improve their knowledge.
Anyway, the theoretical perspectives I received from my professors were, in its majority, the French perspectives. I can not say these perspectives are not interesting or not useful to analyze or criticize literary texts, but after reading Thiong’o I think I would like to have learned not only North American. African, Asian approaches, but, more important, Latin American theoretical approaches for analyzing Colombian and Latin American literature. I do not know how is the Literature program currently, I supposed it have changed since there are new professors, new times, new reflections, and a new relationship with the North American academia, since many students, including me, have come to US or Canada for obtaining post graduate titles (the brain drain that perhaps is a new form of colonialism in the academy, but this is other topic).
So far I do not know much about Latin American literary theories, I think is one of my task as student to get to know them. Actually, one of the my conclusions of these postcolonial readings is that is really important for me to know some of them. Just checking online, I found the “Grupo Latinoamericano de estudios Subalternos”, headed by Walter Mignolo, inter alia, and the “Grupo modernidad/colonialidad” headed by Anibal Quijano and also by Mignolo, authors or theories that we will not be able to read or analyze in the course, since we have not enough time of it, but I am really eager to read.
Perhaps, under the light of these postcolonial readings and thoughts, in the future this Introduction to Literary Theory course could include Latin American theoretical approaches. I know time is short but maybe if they are included would help to some students from Hispanic or French Graduate studies to think about their projects. Maybe?
How to decolonize the academia?
In “Decolonizing the mind”, Ngugi wa Thiong’o presents a reflection about how the English language and academia built on Kenya a way of perceiving the world through the eyes of the British culture and imperialist language.
The text structure addresses different stages. After a brief introduction about the topic, the author explains his own experience remembering how in his natal place and his home, he used the Gĩkũyũ language and it works for every single aspect of his everyday life, including oral stories that identify him with his community. Later, the appearance of the colonial language, the English, transforms his life completely since in the school he has to learn a new code, a new structure and a new culture since the books that the British brings are those that represent the European values. The reflection take him to analyze the importance of the language for building the culture and how the language is culture itself for three reasons: 1) the culture is product and reflection of human beings communicating with each other; 2) language as culture is as an image-forming agent in the mind of the child; 3) culture transmits those images of the world and reality through the written and spoken language (1134). In that order of ideas, when the English language is imposed in Africa, the African culture is submitted to the English culture.
Thiong’o notices that this process is more clear in the writing language, where the child can not express his or herself in an emotional way, but the writing becomes a “cerebral activity” (1135), since the school language is not related with the language of home.
The article turns to question aloud what to do to decolonize the mind of children that have received or are receiving classes about European literature and not African in English language. The conclusion is a “quest for relevance”, process in which Thiong’o wants “to look for at it far as relates, not to just the writing of literature, but to teaching of that literature [African literature] in schools and universities and to the critical approaches” (1138). So he summarize discussions about how to propose the African literature as centre and not periphery of the literary education, and how this literature should nurture from the others literatures. He even mentions that Indian, Caribbean and Latin American literature should be add to the academic programs since they share a lot of things in common.
Thiong’o extract make me think about how the education I received also perpetuated colonial ideas. For instance, when I study my B.A. in Literature in Universidad Nacional, many of the professors who taught me had obtained their Masters and PhD in French universities. For that reason their classes cover a lot of European literature but, over all, French literature. For instance, the Literary Theories that I took were specific studies about one or two authors, some of them were Barthes, Lukács, Goldman, Saussure, Ubersfeld, Bourdieu, Gennete, a little of Benjamin, who is not French but German (but we read his text about Baudelaire) and Bahtin. Actually, I did not receive much information about North American or British theorists (perhaps Raymond Williams and Northrop Frye), but almost nothing about Latin American approaches. Literature classes were about Colombian, Latin America and Spain; but we also had these group of classes called “Universal Literature”, and this classes were about important authors of the world in different historic moments but we did not read Li-po, Chinua Achebe or Tagore, we read Dante, Bocaccio, Flaubert, Dostojevski, Kafka, Ionesco… European authors. I think is important to recognize when my professors studied their B.A., during the 1970’s and 1980’s, many of them studied in the very same Universidad Nacional, a public university deeply politicized to the left, so the United States were seen like the epitome of the “yankee imperialism”, and not many students look for North American universities to complete their graduate education. I do not know about Canada, but probably it was not seen with good eyes. So the majority of students, who later would be professors in this university, saw Europe, but over all France, as the possible place where they can improve their knowledge.
Anyway, the theoretical perspectives I received from my professors were, in its majority, the French perspectives. I can not say these perspectives are not interesting or not useful to analyze or criticize literary texts, but after reading Thiong’o I think I would like to have learned not only North American. African, Asian approaches, but, more important, Latin American theoretical approaches for analyzing Colombian and Latin American literature. I do not know how is the Literature program currently, I supposed it have changed since there are new professors, new times, new reflections, and a new relationship with the North American academia, since many students, including me, have come to US or Canada for obtaining post graduate titles (the brain drain that perhaps is a new form of colonialism in the academy, but this is other topic).
So far I do not know much about Latin American literary theories, I think is one of my task as student to get to know them. Actually, one of the my conclusions of these postcolonial readings is that is really important for me to know some of them. Just checking online, I found the “Grupo Latinoamericano de estudios Subalternos”, headed by Walter Mignolo, inter alia, and the “Grupo modernidad/colonialidad” headed by Anibal Quijano and also by Mignolo, authors or theories that we will not be able to read or analyze in the course, since we have not enough time of it, but I am really eager to read.
Perhaps, under the light of these postcolonial readings and thoughts, in the future this Introduction to Literary Theory course could include Latin American theoretical approaches. I know time is short but maybe if they are included would help to some students from Hispanic or French Graduate studies to think about their projects. Maybe?
A definition of ideology by Zizek
I know is not related (or is it?) with our topic of the week, but I found this great definition of ideology, one of the terms we probably will have to define in our exam. Here, a commentary by Zizek about the movie “They live”, in the film The perverts guide to ideology, where the philosopher and the director Sophie Fiennes deepen in how Hollywood maintains the ideology (I would really like to watch this movie before the exam!)
Have a nice weekend!
A definition of ideology by Zizek
I know is not related (or is it?) with our topic of the week, but I found this great definition of ideology, one of the terms we probably will have to define in our exam. Here, a commentary by Zizek about the movie “They live”, in the film The perverts guide to ideology, where the philosopher and the director Sophie Fiennes deepen in how Hollywood maintains the ideology (I would really like to watch this movie before the exam!)
Have a nice weekend!
