The Complexity of Freedom

Kenyata defends the practice of clitoridectomy against onslaught by claiming it to be a central part of the Gikuyu culture. His argument is that this attack is sponsored by “influential European agencies”, including the educational institutions, and aims to disrupt local culture. It is therefore an imperialist act. He relates and in relating in-part constructs the psychological import of the ritual. The ritual is for him an almost existential act, without which the Gikuyu society cannot be imagined. It is difficult to obtain what the importance of the act was before Kenyata wrote, and whether it was as important as Kenyata claims it to be.

This act was challenged on the basis of its being “barbaric” and “pagan”, as Kenyata points out. The subject of this “barbarism” was the woman. It was she who was being saved and ‘freed’ from this ‘tyrannical’ custom. But, the rhetoric of saving local women was almost invariably tied to imperial inveighs against local culture. Subjection of women was made a part of the traditions or customs being defended. In this way, resisting imperialism becomes a way of reifying local traditions. The assumption such criticisms of imperial interference is that the society which existed needed no change; it was in some sense good merely because it existed. By resisting all change, they sediment the tradition into an unchanging thing, something which it was not. Similarly, resisting colonialism becomes a way of solidifying with more vigour patriarchal attitudes towards women. In this rhetoric of domination and resistance, the voice of the woman is often not to be found. When Kenyata says that the imperial systems do not understand the psychological resonance of the act, it can be questioned, what would a woman think of this act. When he says that “the African is in the best position to discuss and disclose the psychological background of tribal customs” he assumes in this case that the African is a man, or a woman in agreement with Kenyata. He, as an African, feels that he is in the “best position”. The dissenting voice is not present and is conveniently relegated to the imperialist camp.

Criticism against Kenyata assumes that certain interferences of imperial rule did make life better for some, if not all, women. If women think that the act of FGM is fine, there would be no need of a reconsideration of the issue. There are two issues with this statement. The first is that it assumes that all women are one. Even though some women might side with Kenyata, many will not. The latter would certainly heave relief upon the outlawing of FGM. The second is that it is in contravention of the evolved ideas of universal human rights. If someone does not know what rights they have, who must tell them? Can this act of informing be divorced from either the imperial or the resisting side of the conflict? It must be kept in mind that this conception of human rights comes from the West, but it has become such an embedded part of our modern consciousness that it is hard to be divorce any moral judgment from this framework. If this is so, does the criticism of Kenyata’s defence amount to the inability to accept differing moral regimes (which, being a slippery slope, will lead to further perils) or accepting a universal moral standard of right over one’s body (a Western/ imperial introduction)?

The question of “what freedom” thus requires this grappling with the complex ways in colonial moves towards ‘freeing’ the locals might play out. If freedom is the fruit born on the branches of the tree of tyranny, does its sweet taste suffice to ignore the bitter roots it sprung from? Both must be appreciated for us to have a better understanding of this freedom. However, if these measures made life easier or better for some humans, as they did, this understanding requires foremost the appreciation of this fact.