|
From: In My Father’s House:
“The Invention of Africa”
…there are many distinct doctrines that compete for the term
racism, of which I shall try to articulate what I take
to be the crucial three.
The first doctrine is the view—which I shall call racialism—that
there are heritable characteristics, possessed by members of our
species, which allow us to divide them into a small set of races,
in such a way that all the members of these races share certain
traits and tendencies with each other that they do not share with
members of any other race. These traits and tendencies characteristic
of a race constitute, on the racialist view, a sort of racial essence;
it is part of the content of racialism that the essential heritable
characteristics of the “Races of Man” account for more
than the visible morphological characteristics—skin color,
hair type, facial features—on the basis of which we make our
informal classifications. Racialism is at the heart of nineteenth-century
attempts to develop a science of racial difference, but it appears
to have been believed by others—like Hegel, before then, and
Crummell and many Africans since—who have had no interest
in developing scientific theories.
Racialism is not, in itself, a doctrine that must be dangerous,
even if the racial essence is thought to entail moral and intellectual
dispositions. Provided positive moral qualities are distributed
across the races, each can be respected, can have its “separate
but equal” place.
Racialism is, however, a presupposition of other doctrines that
have been called “racism,” and these other doctrines
have been, in the last few centuries, the basis of a great deal
of human suffering and the source of a great deal of moral error.
One such doctrine we might call extrinsic racism: extrinsic
racists make moral distinctions between members of different races
because they believe that the racial essence entails certain morally
relevant qualities. The basis for the extrinsic racists’ discrimination
between people is their belief that members of different races differ
in respects that warrant the differential treatment—respects,
like honesty or courage or intelligence, that are uncontroversially
held (at least in most contemporary cultures) to be acceptable as
a basis for treating people differently. Evidence that there are
no such differences in morally relevant characteristics—that
Negroes do not necessarily lack intellectual capacities, that Jews
are not especially avaricious—should thus lead people out
of their racism if it is purely extrinsic. As we know, such evidence
often fails to change an extrinsic racist’s attitudes substantially,
for some of the extrinsic racist’s best friends have always
been Jewish. But at this point—if the racist is sincere—what
we have is no longer a false doctrine but a cognitive incapacity.
I said that the sincere extrinsic racist may suffer from
a cognitive incapacity. But some who espouse extrinsic racist doctrines
are simply insincere intrinsic racists. For intrinsic
racists, on my definition, are people who differentiate morally
between members of different races, because they believe that each
race has a different moral status, quite independent of the moral
characteristics entailed by its racial essence. Just as, for example,
many people assume that the bare fact that they are biologically
related to another person—a brother, an aunt, a cousin—gives
them a moral interest in that person, so an intrinsic racist holds
that the bare fact of being of the same race is a reason for preferring
one person to another. For an intrinsic racist, no amount of evidence
that a member of another race is capable of great moral, intellectual,
or cultural achievements, or has characteristics that, in members
of one’s own race, would make them admirable or attractive,
offers any ground for treating that person as she would treat similarly
endowed members of her own race. (p.13-15)
"Old Gods, New Gods"
The accommodative style is possible because orality makes it hard
to discover discrepancies. And so it is possible to have an image
of knowledge as unchanging lore, handed down from the ancestors.
It is no wonder, with this image of knowledge, that there is no
systematic research: nobody need ever notice that the way that traditional
theory is used requires inconsistent interpretations. It is literacy
that makes possible the precise formulation of questions that we
have just noticed as one of the characteristics of scientific theory,
and it is precise formulation that points up inconsistency. (p.130)
It is this belief in the plurality of invisible spiritual forces
that makes possible the—to Western eyes—extraordinary
spectacle of a Catholic bishop praying at a Methodist wedding in
tandem with traditional royal appeal to the ancestors. For most
of the participants at the wedding, God can be addressed in different
styles—Methodist, Catholic, Anglican, Moslem, traditional—and
the ancestors can be addressed also. Details about the exact nature
of the Eucharist, about any theological issues, are unimportant:
that is a theoretical question, and theory is unimportant when the
practical issue is getting God on your side. After all, who needs
a theory about who it is that you are talking to, if you hear a
voice speak?
These beliefs in invisible agents mean that most Africans cannot
fully accept those scientific theories in the West that are inconsistent
with it. I do not believe, despite what many appear to think, that
this is a reason for shame or embarrassment. But it is something
to think about. If modernization is conceived of, in part, as the
acceptance of science, we have to decide whether we think that evidence
obliges us to give up the invisible ontology. We can easily be misled
here by the accommodation between science and religion that has
occurred among educated people in the industrialized world, in general,
and in the United States, in particular. For this has involved a
considerable limitation of the domains in which it is permissible
for intellectuals to invoke spiritual agency. The question how much
of the world of the spirits we intellectuals must give up (or transform
into something ceremonial without the old literal ontology) is one
we must face: and I do not think the answer is obvious.
“Tout Africain qui voulait faire quelque chose de positif
devait commencer par détruire toutes ces vieilles croyances
qui consistent à creer le merveilleux là où
il n’y a que phénomène natural: volcan, forét
vierge, foudre, soleil, etc." says the narrator of Aké
Loba’s Kocoumbo, l’etudiant noir. But even
if we agreed that all our old beliefs were superstitions, we should
need principles to guide our choices of new ones. Further, there
is evidence that the practical successes of technology, associated
with the methods and motives of inquiry that I have suggested, are
largely absent in traditional culture. The question whether we ought
to adopt these methods is not a purely technical one. We cannot
avoid the issue of whether it is possible to adopt adversarial,
individualistic cognitive styles, and keep, as we might want to,
accommodative, communitarian morals. Cultures and peoples have often
not been capable of maintaining such double standards (and I use
the term nonpejoratively, for perhaps we need different standards
for different purposes), so that if we are going to try, we must
face up to these difficulties. Scientific method may lead to progress
in our understanding of the world, but you do not have to be a Thoreauvian
to wonder if it has led only to progress in the pursuit of all our
human purposes. In this area we can learn together with other cultures—including,
for example, the Japanese culture, which has apparently managed
a certain segregation of moral-political and cognitive spheres.
In this respect, it seems to me obvious that the Ghanaian philosopher
Kwasi Wiredu is right. We will only solve our problems if we see
them as human problems arising out of a special situation, and we
shall not solve them if we see them as African problems, generated
by our being somehow unlike others. (p.135-36.)
"The Postcolonial and the Postmodern"
I want to argue that to understand our—our human—modernity
we must first understand why the rationalization of the world can
no longer be seen as the tendency either of the West or of history;
why, simply put, the modernist characterization of modernity must
be challenged. To understand our world is to reject Weber’s
claim for the rationality of what he called rationalization and
his projection of its inevitability; it is, then, to have a radically
post-Weberian conception of modernity.
Postmodernism can be seen, then, as a new way of understanding the
multiplication of distinctions that flows from the need to clear
oneself a space; the need that drives the underlying dynamic of
cultural modernity. Modernism saw the economization of the world
as the triumph of reason; postmodernism rejects that claim, allowing
in the realm of theory the same multiplication of distinctions we
see in the cultures it seeks to understand. (p.144-46)
If there is no way out for the post-colonial intellectual…,
it is, I suspect, because as intellectuals—a category instituted
in black Africa by colonialism—we are always at risk of becoming
Otherness-machines. It risks becoming our prinicpal role. Our only
distinction in the world of texts to which we are latecomers is
that we can mediate it to our fellows. This is especially true when
postcolonial meets postmodem, for what the postmodem reader seems
to demand of its Africa is all too close to what modernism—as
documented in William Rubin’s Primitivism exhibit of 1985—demanded
of it. The role that Africa, like the rest of the Third World, plays
for Euro-American postmodernism—like its better-documented
significance for modernist art—must be distinguished from
the role postmodernism might play in the Third World. What that
might be it is, I think, too early to tell. And what happens will
happen not because we pronounce upon the matter in theory but out
of the changing everyday practices of African cultural life.
For all the while, in Africa’s cultures, there are those
who will not see themselves as Other. Despite the overwhelming reality
of economic decline; despite unimaginable poverty; despite wars,
malnutrition, disease, and political instability, African cultural
productivity grows apace: popular literatures, oral narrative and
poetry, dance, drama, music, and visual art all thrive. The contemporary
cultural production of many African societies—and the many
traditions whose evidences so vigorously remain—is an antidote
to the dark vision of [the “manufacture of otherness.”]
(p.157)
"African Identities"
“Race” disables us because it proposes as a basis
for common action the illusion that black (and white and yellow)
people are fundamentally allied by nature and, thus, without effort;
it leaves us unprepared, therefore, to handle the “intraracial”
conflicts that arise from the very different situations of black
(and white and yellow) people in different parts of the economy
and of the world.
The African metaphysics of Soyinka disables because it founds
our unity in gods who have not served us well in our dealings with
the world—Soyinka never defends the “African World”
against Wiredu’s charge that since people die daily in Ghana
because they prefer traditional herbal remedies to Western medicines,
“any inclination to glorify the unanalytical [i.e. the traditiona]
cast of mind is not just retrograde; it is tragic.” Soyinka
has proved the Yoruba pantheon a powerful literary resource, but
he cannot explain why Christianity and Islam have so widely displaced
the old gods, or why an image of the West has so powerful a hold
on the contemporary Yoruba imagination; nor can his mythmaking offer
us the resources for creating economies and polities adequate to
our various places in the world. (p.176)
There are, I think three crucial lessons to be learned from these
cases. First, that identities are complex and multiple and grow
out of a history of changing responses to economic, political, and
cultural forces, almost always in opposition to other identities.
Second, that they flourish despite what I earlier called our “misrecognition”
of their origins; despite, that is, their roots in myths and in
lies. And third, that there is, in consequence, no large place for
reason in the construction—as opposed to the study and the
management—of identities. One temptation, then, for those
who see the centrality of these fictions in our lives, is to leave
reason behind: to celebrate and endorse those identities that seem
at the moment to offer the best hope of advancing our other goals,
and to keep silence about the lies and the myths. But, as I said
earlier, intellectuals do not easily neglect the truth, and, all
things considered, our societies profit, in my view, from the institutionalization
of this imperative in the academy. So it is important for us to
continue trying to tell our truths. But the facts I have been rehearsing
should imbue us all with a strong sense of the marginality of such
work to the central issue of the resistance to racism and ethnic
violence—and to sexism, and to the other structures of difference
that shape the world of power; they should force upon us the clear
realization that the real battle is not being fought in the academy.
(p.178-79)

From: Color Conscious:
African-American identity, as I have argued, is centrally shaped
by American society and institutions: it cannot be seen as constructed
solely within African-American communities. African-American culture,
if this means shared beliefs, values, practices, does not exist:
what exists are African-American cultures, and though these are
created and sustained in large measure by African-Americans, they
cannot be understood without reference to the bearers of other American
racial identities. (p.95-96)
Once the racial label is applied to people, ideas about what it
refers to, ideas that may be much less consensual than the application
of the label, come to have their social effects. But they have not
only social effects but psychological ones as well; and they shape
the ways people conceive of themselves and their projects. In particular,
the labels can operate to shape what I want to call "identification":
the process through which an indiviaul intentionally shapes her
projects—including her plans for her own life and her conception
of the good—by reference to available labels, available identities.
(p.78)
It does not follow from the fact that identification shapes action,
shapes life plans, that the identification itself must be thought
of as voluntary. I don’t recall ever choosing to identify
as a male; but being male has shaped many of my plans and actions.
In fact, where my ascriptive identity is one on which almost all
my fellow citizens agree, I am likely to have little sense of choice
about whether the identity is mine; though I can choose
how central my identification with it will be—choose, that
is, how much I will organize my life around that identity. Thus
if I am among those (like the unhappily labeled “straight-acting
gay men,” or most American Jews) who are able, if they choose,
to escape ascription, I may choose not to take up a gay or a Jewish
identity; though this will require concealing facts about myself
or my ancestry from others.
If, on the other hand, I fall into the class of those for whom the
consensus on ascription is not clear—as among contemporary
socalled biracials, or bisexuals, or those many white Americans
of multiple identifiable ethnic heritages—I may have a sense
of identity options: but one way I may exercise them is by marking
myself ethnically (as when someone chooses to wear an Irish pin)
so that others will then be more likely to ascribe that identity
to me. (p.80)
First of all, it needs to be argued, and not simply assumed, that
black Americans, say, taken as a group, have a common culture:
values and beliefs and practices that they share and that they do
not share with others. This is equally true for, say, Chinese-Americans;
and it is a fortiori true of white Americans. What seems
clear enough is that being an African-American or an Asian-American
or white is an important social identity in the United States. Whether
these are important social identities because these groups have
shared common cultures is, on the other hand, quite doubtful, not
least because it is doubtful whether they have common cultures
at all.
The issue is important because an analysis of America’s
struggle with difference as a struggle among cultures suggests a
mistaken analysis of how the problems of diversity arise. With differing
cultures, we might expect misunderstandings arising out of ignorance
of each others’ values, practices, and beliefs; we might even
expect conflicts because of differing values or beliefs. The paradigms
of difficulty in a society of many cultures are misunderstandings
of a word or a gesture; conflicts over who should take custody of
the children after a divorce; whether to go to the doctor or to
the priest for healing.
Once we move from talking of cultures to identities whole new kinds
of problems come into view. Racial and ethnic identities are, for
example, essentially contrastive and relate centrally to social
and political power; in this way they are like genders and sexualities.
(p.88)
Collective identities, in short, provide what we might call scripts:
narratives that people can use in shaping their life plans and in
telling their life stories.
This is not just a point about modern Westerners: cross-culturally
it matters to people that their lives have a certain narrative unity;
they want to be able to tell a story of their lives that makes sense.
The story—my story—should cohere in the way appropriate
by the standards made available in my culture to a person of my
identity. In telling that story, how I fit into the wider story
of various collectivities is, for most of us, important. It is not
just gender identities that give shape (through, for example, rites
of passage into woman- or manhood) to one’s life: ethnic and
national identities too fit each individual story into a larger
narrative. (p.97)
They would all produce a population less various in some of the
respects that make a difference to major socioeconomic indicators.
This would not mean that everybody would be the same as everybody
else—but it could lead to a more recreational conception of
racial identity. It would make African-American identity more like
Irish-American identity is for most of those who care to keep the
label. And that would allow us to resist one persistent feature
of ethnoracial identities: that they risk becoming the obsessive
focus, the be-all and end-all, of the lives of those who identify
with them. They lead people to forget that their individual identities
are complex and multifarious—that they have enthusiasms that
do not flow from their race or ethnicity, interests and tastes that
cross ethnoracial boundaries, that they have occupations or professions,
are fans of clubs and groups. And they then lead them, in obliterating
the identities they share with people outside their race or ethnicity,
away from the possibility of identification with Others. Collective
identities have a tendency, if I may coin a phrase, to “go
imperial,” dominating not only people of other identities,
but the other identities, whose shape is exactly what makes each
of us what we individually and distinctively are. (p.103)

From: "The Multiculturalist Misunderstanding"
The New York Review of Books, 44:15, October 9, 1997.
Have you noticed that “culture”—the word—has
been getting a heavy work-out recently? Anthropologists, of course,
have used it zealously for over a century; though the term’s
active life in literature and politics began long before that. But
some current ways in which the concept of culture has been put to
use would have surprised even mid-century readers; especially the
idea that everything from anorexia to zydeco is illuminated by being
displayed as the product of some group’s culture. It’s
got to the point that when you hear the word “culture,”
you reach for your dictionary.
The growing salience of race and gender as social irritants, which
may seem to reflect the call of collective identities, is a reflection,
as much as anything else, of the individual's concern for dignity
and respect. As our society slouches on toward a fuller realization
of its ideal of social equality, everyone wants to be taken seriously—to
be respected, not “dissed.” Because on many occasions
disrespect still flows from racism, sexism, and homophobia, we respond,
in the name of all black people, all women, all gays, as the case
may be, taking the high road of Kantian principle. But the truth
is that what mostly irritates us in these moments is that we, as
individuals, feel diminished.
And the trouble with appeal to cultural difference is that it obscures
rather than illuminates this situation. It is not black culture
that the racist disdains, but blacks. There is no conflict of visions
between black and white cultures that is the source of racial discord.
No amount of knowledge of the architectural achievements of Nubia
or Kush guarantees respect for African-Americans. No African-American
is entitled to greater concern because he is descended from a people
who created jazz or produced Toni Morrison. Culture is not the problem,
and it is not the solution.
Thanks
to Paul Thomas, Area Studies, Stanford University Libraries,
for assistance with these excerpts.
Stanford University ©2004.
|