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--Homi Bhabha, "Of Mimicry and Man: The Ambivalence of
Colonial Discourse" http://web.archive.org/web/20080515155720re_/social.chass.ncsu.edu/wyrick/debclass/poco.htm [This article was first published
in October 28 (1984): 125-33; frequently reprinted (in anthologies and
in Bhabha's Location of Culture and cited constantly
by postcolonial scholars, it is one of the fundamental texts for contemporary
colonial discourse studies. Bhabha's Lacanian interests led him to oppose the binary model of
colonial relations, and these interests have also opened him to the charges
of being 'totalizing,' of ignoring the specifics of various colonial
histories. It might be interesting to try out Bhabha's
ideas on Defoe or Swift's novels (it's already been done, pretty much, with Behn) for your first response paper. I've numbered the
paragraphs etc.] Mimicry reveals something in so
far as it is distinct from what might be called an ‘itself that is behind’.
The effect of mimicry is camouflage. . . . It is not a question of
harmonizing with the background, but against a mottled background, of
becoming mottled - exactly like the technique of camouflage practised in human warfare. --Jacques Lacan, "The Line
and Light," Of the Gaze It is out of season to question at
this time of day, the original policy of conferring on every colony of the
British Empire a mimic representation of the British Constitution. But if the
creature so endowed has sometimes forgotten its real insignificance and under
the fancied importance of speakers and maces, and all the paraphernalia and
ceremonies of the imperial legislature, has dared to defy the mother country,
she has to thank herself for the folly of conferring such privileges on a
condition of society that has no earthly claim to so exalted a position. A
fundamental principle appears to have been forgotten or overlooked in our
system of colonial policy --that of colonial dependence. To give to a colony
the forms of independence is a mockery; she would not be a colony for a
single hour if she could maintain an independent station. --Sir
Edward Cust, "Reflections on West African
Affairs . .t. addressed to the Colonial
Office," Harchard, London 1839 1.
The
discourse of post-Enlightenment English colonialism often speaks in a tongue
that is forked, not false. If colonialism takes power in the name of history,
it repeatedly exercises its authority through the figures of farce. For the
epic intention of the civilizing mission, "human and not wholly
human" in the famous words of Lord Rosebery,
"writ by the finger of the Divine" often produces a text rich in
the traditions of trompe l'oeil, irony, mimicry, and repetition. In this comic
turn from the high ideals of the colonial imagination to its low mimetic
literary effects, mimicry emerges as one of the most elusive and effective
strategies of colonial power and knowledge. 2.
Within
that conflictural economy of colonial discourse
which Edward Said describes as the tension between the synchronic panoptical
vision of domination - the demand for identity, stasis - and the
counter-pressure of the diachrony of history -
change, difference - mimicry represents and ironic compromise. If I
may adapt Samuel Weber's formulation of the marginalizing vision of
castration, then colonial mimicry is the desire for a reformed, recognizable Other, as a subject of a difference that is almost the
same, but not quite. Which is to say, that the discourse of mimicry is
constructed around an ambivalence; in order
to be effective, mimicry must continually produce its slippage, its excess,
its difference. The authority of that mode of colonial discourse that I have
called mimicry is therefore stricken by an indeterminacy:
mimicry emerges as the representation of a difference that is itself a
process of disavowal. Mimicry is, thus, the sign of a double articulation; a
complex strategy of reform, regulation, and discipline, which
"appropriates" the Other as it visualizes
power. Mimicry is also the sign of the inappropriate,
however, a difference or recalcitrance which coheres the dominant strategic
function of colonial power, intensifies surveillance, and poses an immanent threat to both "normalized" knowledges and disciplinary powers. 3.
the effect of mimicry on the authority of colonial discourse
is profound and disturbing. For in "normalizing" the colonial state
or subject, the dream of post-Enlightenment civility alienates its own
language of liberty and produces another knowledge
of its norms. The ambivalence which thus informs this strategy is
discernible, for example, in Locke's Second Treatise which splits to
reveal the limitations of liberty in his double use of the word
"slave": first simply, descriptively as the locus of a legitimate
form of ownership, then as the trope for an intolerable, illegitimate
exercise of power. What is articulated in that distance between the two uses
is the absolute, imagined difference between the "Colonial" State
of Carolina and the Original State of Nature. 4.
It is
from this area between mimicry and mockery, where the reforming, civilizing
mission is threatened by the displacing gaze of its disciplinary double that
my instances of colonial imitation come. What they all share is a discursive
process by which the excess or slippage produced by the ambivalance
of mimicry (almost the same, but not quite) does not merely
"rupture" the discourse, but becomes transformed into an
uncertainty which fixes the colonial subject as a "partial"
presence. By "partial" I mean both "incomplete" and
"virtual." It is as if the very emergence of the
"colonial" is dependent for its representation upon some strategic
limitation of prohibition within the authoritative discourse itself.
The success of colonial appropriation depends on a proliferation of
inappropriate objects that ensure its strategic failure, so that mimicry is
at once resemblance and menace. 5.
A
classic text of such partiality is Charles Grant's "Observations on the
State of Society among the Asiatic Subjects of Great Britain" (1792)
which was only superseded by James Mill's History of India as the most
influential early nineteenth-century account of Indian manners and morals.
Grant's dream of an evangelical system of mission education conducted
uncompromisingly in English was partly a belief in political reform along
Christian lines and partly an awareness that the expansion of company rule in
India required a system of "interpellation" - a reform of manners,
as Grant put it, that would provide the colonial with "a sense of
personal identity as we know it." Caught between the desire for
religious reform and the fear that the Indians might become turbulent for
liberty, Grant implies that it is, in fact the "partial" diffusion
of Christianity, and the "partial" influence of moral improvements
which will construct a particularly appropriate form of colonial
subjectivity. What is suggested is a process of reform through which
Christian doctrines might collude with divisive caste practices to prevent
dangerous political alliances. Inadvertently Grant produces a knowledge of Christianity as a form of social control
which conflicts with the enunciatory assumptions
which authorize his discourse. In suggesting, finally, that "partial
reform" will produce an empty form of "the imitation of
English manners which will induce them [the colonial subjects] to remain
under our protection," Grant mocks his moral project and violates the
Evidences of Christianity - a central missionary tenet - which forbade any
tolerance of heathen faiths. 6.
The
absurd extravagance of Macaulay's Infamous Minute (1835) - deeply
influences by Charles Grant's Observations -- makes a mockery of Oriental
learning until faced with the challenge of conceiving of a
"reformed" colonial subject. Then the great tradition of European
humanism seems capable only of ironizing itself. At
the intersection of European learning and colonial power, Macaulay can
conceive of nothing other than "a class of interpreters between us and
the millions whom we govern - a class of persons Indian in blood and colour, but English in tastes, in opinions, in morals,
and in intellect" - in other words a mimic man raised "through our
English school," as a missionary educationist wrote in 1819, "to
form a corps of translators and be employed in different departments of Labour." The line of descent of the mimic man can be
traced through the works of Kipling, Forester, Orwell, Naipaul, and to the
emergence, most recently, in Benedict Anderson's excellent essay on
nationalism, as the anomalous Bipin Chandra Pal. He
is the effect of a flawed colonial mimesis, in which to be Anglicized,
is emphatically not to be English. 7.
the figure of mimicry is locatable within what Anderson
describes as "the inner incompatibility of empire and nation." It problematizes the signs of racial and cultural priority,
so that the "national" is no longer naturalizable.
What emerges between mimesis and mimicry is a writing,
a mode of representation, that marginalizes the monumentality of history,
quite simply mocks its power to be a model, that power which supposedly makes
it imitable. Mimicry repeats rather than re-presents and in
that diminishing perspective emerges Decoud's displaced European vision of Sulaco as The endlessness of civil strife where folly seemed even
harder to bear than its ignominy . . . the lawlessness of a populace of all colours and races, barbarism, irremediable tyranny. . . .
America is ungovernable. [from Conrad's Nostromo]
Or Ralph Singh's apostasy in Naipaul's The Mimic Men:
We pretended to be real, to be learning, to be preparing
ourselves for life, we mimic men of the New World, one unknown corner of it,
with all its reminders of the corruption that came so quickly to the new. Both Decoud and Singh, and in
their different ways Grant and Macaulay, are the parodists of history.
Despite their intentions and invocations they inscribe the colonial text
erratically, eccentrically across a body politic that refuses to be
representative, in a narrative that refuses to be representational. The
desire to emerge as "authentic" through mimicry - through a process
of writing and repetition - is the final irony of partial representation. 8.
What I
have called mimicry is not the familiar exercise of dependent colonial
relations through narcissistic identification so that, as Fanon has observed,
the black man stops being an actional person for
only the white man can represent his self-esteem. Mimicry conceals no
presence or identity behind its mask: it is not what Césaire
describes as "colonization-thingification"
behind which there stands the essence of the présence
Africaine. The menace of mimicry is its double
vision which in disclosing the ambivalence of colonial discourse also
disrupts it’s authority. And it is a double-vision
that is a result of what I've described as the partial
representation/recognition of the colonial object. Grant's colonial as
partial imitator, Macaulay's translator, Naipaul's colonial politician as
play-actor, Decoud as the scene setter of the opéra bouffe of
the New World, these are the appropriate objects of a colonialist chain of
command, authorized versions of otherness. But they are also, as I have
shown, the figures of a doubling, the part-objects of a metonymy of colonial
desire which alienates the modality and normality of those dominant
discourses in which they emerge as "inappropriate" colonial
subjects. A desire that, through the repetition of partial presence,
which is the basis of mimicry, articulates those disturbances of cultural,
racial, and historical difference that menace the narcissistic demand of
colonial authority. It is a desire that reverses "in part" the
colonial appropriation by now producing a partial vision of the colonizer's
presence. A gaze of otherness, that shares the acuity of the genealogical
gaze which, as Foucault describes it, liberates marginal elements and
shatters the unity of man's being through which he extends his sovereignty. 9.
I want
to turn to this process by which the look of surveillance returns as the
displacing gaze of the disciplined, where the observer becomes the observed
and "partial" representation rearticulates the whole notion of identity
and alienates it from essence. But not before observing that even an
exemplary history like Eric Stokes's The English Utilitarians
in India [1959] acknowledges the anomalous gaze of otherness but finally
disavows it in a contradictory utterance: Certainly India played no central part in
fashioning the distinctive qualities of English civilisation.
In many ways it acted as a disturbing force, a magnetic power placed at the
periphery tending to distort the natural development of Britain's character.
. . . 10. What is the nature of the hidden threat of the partial
gaze? Ow does mimicry emerge as the subject of the scopic drive and the object of colonial surveillance? How
is desire disciplined, authority displaced? 11. If we turn to a Freudian figure to address these issues of
colonial textuality, that form of difference that
is mimicry -- almost the same but not quite -- will become clear.
Writing of the partial nature of fantasy, caught inappropriately,
between the unconscious and the preconscious, making problematic, like
mimicry, the very notion of "origins," Freud has this to say: Their mixed and split origin is what decides their fate.
We may compare them with individuals of mixed race who taken all round resemble
white men but who betray their coloured descent by
some striking feature or other and on that account are excluded from society
and enjoy none of the privileges. 12. Almost the same but not white: the visibility of mimicry is always produced at the site
of interdiction. It is a form of colonial discourse that is uttered inter dicta: a discourse at the crossroads
of what is known and permissible and that which though known must be kept
concealed; a discourse uttered between the lines and as such both against the
rules and within them. The question of the representation of difference is
therefore always also a problem of authority. The "desire" of
mimicry, which is Freud's striking feature that reveals so little but
makes such a big difference, is not merely that impossibility of the Other which repeatedly resists signification. The desire
of colonial mimicry --and interdictory desire - may not have an object, but
it has strategic objectives which I shall call the metonymy of presence.
13. those inappropriate signifiers of colonial discourse - the
difference between being English and being Anglicized; the identity between
stereotypes which, through repetition, also become different; the
discriminatory identities constructed across traditional cultural norms and classifications,
the Simian Black, the Lying Asiatic - all these are metonymies of presence.
They are strategies of desire in discourse that makes the anomalous
representation of the colonized something other than a process of "the
return of the repressed," what Fanon unsatisfactorily characterized as
collective catharsis. These instances of metonymy are the nonrepressive
productions of contradictory and multiple belief.
They cross the boundaries of the culture of enunciation through a strategic
confusion of the metaphoric and metonymic axes of the cultural production of
meaning. For each of these instances of "a difference that is almost the
same but not quite" inadvertently creates a crisis for the cultural
priority given to the metaphoric as the process of repression and
substitution which negotiates the difference between paradigmatic systems and
classifications. In mimicry, the representation of identity and meaning is
rearticulated along the axis of metonymy. As Lacan
reminds us, mimicry is like camouflage, not a harmonization of repression of
difference, but a form of resemblance that differs/defends
presence by displaying it in part, metonymically. Its threat, I would add,
comes from the prodigious and strategic production of conflictual,
fantastic, discriminatory "identity effects" in the play of a power
that is elusive because it hides no essence, no "itself." And that
form of resemblance is the most terrifying thing to behold, as Edward
Long testifies in his History of Jamaica (1774). At the end of a tortured,
negrophobic passage, that shifts anxiously between
piety, prevarication, and perversion, the text finally confronts its fear;
nothing other than the repetition of its resemblance "in part": (Negroes) are represented by all authors as the vilest of
human kind, to which they have little more pretension of resemblance than
what arises from their exterior forms[Bhabha's
italics]. 14. From such a colonial encounter between the white presence
and its black semblance, there emerges the question of the ambivalence of
mimicry as a problematic of colonial subjection. For if Sade's scandalous theatricalization of language repeatedly reminds us that
discourse can claim "no priority," then the work of Edward Said
will not let us forget that the "ethnocentric and erratic will to power
from which texts can spring" is itself a theater of war. Mimicry, as the
metonymy of presence is, indeed, such an erratic, eccentric strategy of
authority in colonial discourse. Mimicry does not merely destroy narcissistic
authority through the repetition slippage of difference and desire. It is the
process of the fixation of the colonial as a form of
cross-classificatory, discriminatory knowledge in the defiles of an
interdictory discourse, and therefore necessarily raises the question of the authorization
of colonial representations. A question of authority that goes beyond the
subject's lack of priority (castration) to a historical crisis in the
conceptuality of colonial man as an object of regulatory power, as the
subject of racial, cultural, national representation. 15. "This culture . . . fixed in its colonial
status," Fanon suggests, "(is) both present and mummified, it
testified against its members. It defines them in fact without appeal."
The ambivalence of mimicry - almost but not quite - suggests that the fetishized colonial culture is potentially and
strategically an insurgent counter-appeal. What I have called its
"identity-effects," are always crucially split.
Under cover of camouflage, mimicry, like the fetish, is a part-object that
radically revalues the normative knowledges of the
priority of race, writing, history. For the fetish
mimes the forms of authority at the point at which it deauthorizes
them. Similarly, mimicry rearticulates presence in terms of its
"otherness," that which it disavows. There is a crucial difference
between this colonial articulation of man and
is doubles and that which Foucault describes as "thinking the unthought" which, for nineteenth-century Europe, is
the ending of man's alienation by reconciling him with his essence. The
colonial discourse that articulates an interdictory
"otherness" is precisely the "other scene" of this
nineteenth-century European desire for an authentic historical consciousness.
16. The "unthought" across
which colonial man is articulated is that process of classificatory confusion
that I have described as the metonymy of the substitutive chain of ethical
and cultural discourse. This results in the splitting of colonial
discourse so that two attitudes towards external reality persist; one takes
reality into consideration while the other disavows it and replaces it by a
product of desire that repeats, rearticulates "reality" as mimicry.
17. So Edward Long can say with authority, quoting variously,
Hume, Eastwick, and Bishop Warburton in his
support, that: Ludicrous as the opinion may seem I do not think that an orangutang husband would be any dishonour
to a Hottentot female. 18. Such contradictory articulations of reality and desire -
seen in racist stereotypes, statements, jokes, myths - are not caught in the
doubtful circle of the return of the repressed. They are the effects of a
disavowal that denies the differences of the other but produces in its stead
forms of authority and multiple belief that alienate
the assumptions of "civil" discourse. If, for a while, the ruse of
desire is calculable for the uses of discipline soon the repetition of guilt,
justification, pseudoscientific theories, superstition, spurious authorities,
and classifications can be seen as the desperate effort to
"formalize" formally the disturbance of a discourse of
splitting that violates the rational, enlightened claims of its enunciatory modality. The ambivalence of colonial
authority repeatedly turns into mimicry -- a difference that is almost
nothing but not quite - to menace -- a difference that is almost total
but not quite. And in that other scene of colonial power, where history turns
to farce and presence to "a part," can be seen the twin figures of
narcissism and paranoia that repeat furiously, uncontrollably. 19. In the ambivalent world of the "not quite/not
white," on the margins of metropolitan desire, the founding objects
of the Western world become the erratic eccentric, accidental objects trouvés of the colonial discourse --the part-objects
of presence. It is then that the body and the book loose
their representational authority. Black skin splits under the racist gaze,
displaced into signs of bestiality, genitalia, grotesquerie,
which reveal the phobic myth of the undifferentiated whole white body.
And the holiest of books - the Bible - bearing both the standard of the cross
and the standard of empire finds itself strangely dismembered. In May 1817 a
missionary wrote from Bengal: Still everyone would gladly receive a Bible. And why? - that he may lay it up as a curiosity for a few pice; or use it for waste paper. Such it is well known
has been the common fate of these copies of the Bible. . . . Some have been
bartered in the markets, others have been thrown in
snuff shops and used as wrapping paper. |