Violence as Birth
We spent two classes trying to argue against the popular consensus on Fanon’s apparent bloodlust. We drew upon politics, literary interpretation, and Fanon’s life in a desperate attempt to shield Fanon from the argument that he is a prophet of violence. Why? What is wrong with a violent response to colonialism? Why should the colonized not pick up arms? Fanon calls the violence of the colonized a “counterviolence”, and that is indeed what it is- it is a counter to violence, it is provoked violence, it is self-defense. It is the ultimate praxis, “…I struck, the blood spurted: it is the only baptism that today I remember”. This blog is on the necessity of violence, and my argument is motivated by the sentence Rebel utters in Cesaire’s play right before killing the colonizer. This is when Rebel has entered master’s bedroom, this is where the master has no control, and Rebel has full control. But the master is calm, and Rebel?
“Suddenly my eyes were two cockroaches frightened on a rainy day”. It is this expression that makes the violence necessary. At this point, the subjecthood of the colonized is evident: the colonizer is at his mercy, he can do to him what he wishes. Why then is he afraid?
I will quote Fanon and Cesaire repeatedly and extensively in this blog. This is not because I am lazy, but because I do not think Fanon’s argument can be expressed in words better than those he has used. “Violence can thus be understood as the perfect meditation. The colonized man liberates himself in and through violence”. Aur kiya boloun yaar? It seems very difficult for argue that Fanon isn’t calling for extensive violence when, right before quoting the play from Cesaire, he endorses the seemingly brutal exercise of the Mau Mau- that every member must strike the victim, so that every member is responsible for the death of the colonizer. This, however, is necessary. It is necessary because this violence is the process of becoming. Becoming, however, requires action; that is why violence must be conducted: it goes beyond creating subjecthood, and into the domain of exercising subjecthood. If merely creating subjecthood was enough, Rebel would not be fearful when master is at his mercy. Pethaps the best way of understanding this why this violence is necessary is putting oneself in Rebel’s shoes, and actually going through his experience.h
This violence is looking the colonizer in the eye, and saying, Mr. White Man, my existence is not conditional on your existence, I too can exist independently, my life is not constrained by the boundaries you have set for me, I do not exist in the circle that you have defined for me. With every move you make, Mr. White Man, the boundary gets more powerful. “There is not in the world one single poor lynched bastard, one poor tortured man, in whom I am not also murdered and humiliated”. With this blow, Mr. White Man, the boundaries you have imposed on me are removed. But I am scared, for you continue to solidify the boundary. I have full control, you are at my mercy, yet, it is you who is calm, and I, scared. You laugh, my eyes exhume fear. No, merely knowing that I am the subject is not enough. I must experience my subjecthood, I must express it. This violence has nothing to do with its physical nature: the physical exercise of killing you, Mr. White Man, is merely a medium of action: it is the only action I am capable of, it is the only possible way that I can express, but more importantly, experience my subjecthood. It is only then that this life of paradoxes, where you, the foreigner, tkar over my land and tell me, the native, how to live on it; where your children, the guests, play golf and I, the host, carry the golf bag. It is only through violence that this cognitive imposition, of me existing within the existence you have defined for me—the existence where I cannot see, think or experience lest it be a seeing, thinking or experiencing defined by you, will once and forever be removed. Only when I step outside this boundary, rather than know that it is possible to step outside this boundary, will the boundary vanish. And hence I strike, the blood spurts, and the boundary vanishes. I now truly exist; my existence is unfettered, no longer defined by you; it is now endless, infinite, I have, finally, truly, been born.
This violence is looking the colonizer in the eye, and saying, Mr. White Man, my existence is not conditional on your existence, I too can exist independently, my life is not constrained by the boundaries you have set for me, I do not exist in the circle that you have defined for me. With every move you make, Mr. White Man, the boundary gets more powerful. “There is not in the world one single poor lynched bastard, one poor tortured man, in whom I am not also murdered and humiliated”. With this blow, Mr. White Man, the boundaries you have imposed on me are removed. But I am scared, for you continue to solidify the boundary. I have full control, you are at my mercy, yet, it is you who is calm, and I, scared. You laugh, my eyes exhume fear. No, merely knowing that I am the subject is not enough. I must experience my subjecthood, I must express it. This violence has nothing to do with its physical nature: the physical exercise of killing you, Mr. White Man, is merely a medium of action: it is the only action I am capable of, it is the only possible way that I can express, but more importantly, experience my subjecthood. It is only then that this life of paradoxes, where you, the foreigner, tkar over my land and tell me, the native, how to live on it; where your children, the guests, play golf and I, the host, carry the golf bag. It is only through violence that this cognitive imposition, of me existing within the existence you have defined for me—the existence where I cannot see, think or experience lest it be a seeing, thinking or experiencing defined by you, will once and forever be removed. Only when I step outside this boundary, rather than know that it is possible to step outside this boundary, will the boundary vanish. And hence I strike, the blood spurts, and the boundary vanishes. I now truly exist; my existence is unfettered, no longer defined by you; it is now endless, infinite, I have, finally, truly, been born.
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