Sunday, September 6, 2009

Exposure Invites Examination

Should We Read Heart of Darkness?

First comes naked truth; next, examination of  “the other;” and  finally—hopefully—self-examination.  We’re shocked when Joseph Conrad reveals his view (through Marlow) of the horrors of domination, racism, and dismissal of one race by another, exposing the greed and cruelty of former generations in distant lands.  As we read criticisms by Miller, Achebe, and others, sparking discussions of past and current colonialism, we dare to look more closely at our own culture’s attitudes toward the other.  If we follow with an honest, humble look inward at our private thoughts and personal choices, we have most certainly benefitted from reading Heart of Darkness. 
  
Visiting a culture and living among its people are two completely different experiences.  Both in reality and his fictional journey, Conrad travelled to the African interior for a short time.  From his brief encounter as an outsider, he made broad generalizations through Marlow's narrative which, in part, reinforced nineteenth century readers’ uninformed stereotypes of Negroes.  However, Conrad went beyond his travelogue to pry open the eyes of his complacent audience.  He enticed them—and us—to peer beneath the cover of accepted racism and witness secret happenings.

A third viewpoint comes from being one of those “others.”  Nigerian Chinua Achebe, in "An Image of Africa," does not hesitate to proclaim “Joseph Conrad was a thoroughgoing racist” (343), in spite of critics’ defense citing the twice-removed narrator-within-a-narrator technique distancing author beliefs from characters’ flaws.  I agree with Achebe’s conclusion, but see great value in the reactions Conrad elicits.  Achebe chafes at Conrad’s overuse of antithetical concepts of silence and frenzy (338) when describing European and African dichotomies.  Other readers may be annoyed, as I am, by the constant drum beat of darkness against light, black against white.  Both treatments oversimplify the issues dredged up, which involve gray areas that escape clear definitions, and require infinite shades of ethical, moral, and cultural considerations.  The fact that these are not yes-or-no, do-or-do-not, all-or-nothing choices is what makes this novella worth our time.  The truth that we face various forms of these choices in our daily twenty-first century lives is what demands we engage the text, digest it, and allow it to challenge our “unexamined assumptions” (Miller 464, quoting Bette London).

One unchallenged assumption in the late eighteen hundreds seems to have been what Benjamin Kidd described as the inherently better work ethic and ethical behavior of one race (Europeans) over another (Africans), resulting in a natural dominance.  Marlow echoes these sentiments, yet ironically describes whites carefully lining up numbers into neat rows while black natives do hard manual labor and starve without compassion outside the Europeans' offices (19).  Do we allow this picture to turn our own notions of certain core attributes inside out?  Do we dispute others' false statements about “what everybody knows” today?

In "Should We Read 'Heart of Darkness'?” J. Hillis Miller asks, “What or who gives us the authority to make a decision [about who should study Conrad]…Who is this ‘we’?” (463).  Study of this short book should make us ask other far-reaching, long-debated questions:  Who decides standards of superiority to label cultures or individuals as educated or ignorant, as smart, half-witted or idiotic?  Which groups do we empower to determine the definitions, responsibilities, and rights of property ownership?  Who establishes the value of a human’s life?  Are we personally exercising such powers without realizing it?  What mistakes do we risk when we dismiss another’s potential—as a friend, co-worker or possible spouse, as an employee or employer, as a daughter- or son-in-law?

Exposure to Heart of Darkness can result in a healthy, enlightening probe of our own core values.  It’s well worth the uncomfortable, piercing light if we seize the opportunity to produce, as Miller puts it, “an active, responsible response” (463).

2 comments:

  1. I consider this an exceptional example of "an active, responsible response" in writing. I like your point about taking an honest, humble look inward -- that literature can push us to do so is a good thing, even if the results are troubling.

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  2. I agree with the sentiment of your post. When read with a critical eye, divisive books like HoD are really important in helping us analyze our personal and cultural opinions of people and places. I also think being confronted with ideas like those presented in HoD is increasingly important as cultures become more homogenized through globalization, because having these types wholly foreign encounters/experiences first-hand may become practically impossible.

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