Whither Freedom?
When we address issues of decolonization and independence, we take for granted the premise that there is a monolithic colonizer pitched against a similarly homogeneous colonized. Very rarely does the question come up: independence for and from whom? It is these questions, when properly explored, that give rise to the agitated cry, "What freedom?!"
Before we attempt to answer the question, we must trace the path that leads to it; to this end, it is worthwhile to have a closer look at this entity called the "colonized". What social groups constituted the colonized, and what were the relations between them? Were there hierarchies? And if so, what kind, and who came out on top? When we look closely at the power structures other than colonization that defined the colonized society, we are also interested in how the overarching experience of colonialism affected these structures: were they uniformly reinforced, or disrupted? Or was each structure affected differently?
The structure that I will be particularly concerned with today is the near universal experience of patriarchy. What happened to women in colonial societies? Did the presence of the white colonizer lead to a form of double oppression? Or were the two structures at odds with each other, forcing women to choose a side and therefore, to choose what oppression they wanted freedom from? The answer, as often happens, lies somewhere in between. The peculiar and precarious position of women in colonial societies has been widely studied by different theorists in different contexts, but the context I will be concerned with today is that of Algeria, and more particularly, Frantz Fanon's essay "Algeria Unveiled".
The veil has been a site of contention in feminism, governmental politics (as in France), debates on racism, cultural relativism and so on for at least the past few decades. Its status as both a religious and cultural/ethnic marker has complicated attitudes around it where feminists are divided in their perception of the veil as a personal choice signifying alliance with a home culture, or as a form of oppression to be liberated from. Fanon takes this further in his exploration of the evolution of the significance of the veil in 1950s Algeria. What began as the local religious practice of purdah gained in importance as the symbolic defiance of French colonialism when the latter launched a campaign to unveil women. This was an attempt to turn them against the Algerian men and win them over as allies to French colonial endeavours, strengthening and validating their cultural imposition and establishing colonialism as a progressive and liberating force. Apart from arising out of a national colonial interest, the campaign was also deeply embedded in sexist and racist conceptions of Algerian women (as adornments to be looked at, and as voiceless, helpless, ignorant and backward). As we see, women did discard the veil according to the exigency of the nationalist struggle which required them to dress as European women to smuggle ammunition to the European part of the city, and then donned it back on when colonial authorities wised up to this practice and began thorough checks on European presenting women. The new subversive iteration of the veiling practice was one of disguise, using European conceptions of the veiled Algerian woman as helpless to breeze past their security checks, bombs and weapons securely hidden under the immense haik.
Thus, Chandra Mohanty's claim in "Under Western Eyes" that the veil needs contextualization to be understood is proved valid but, has the veil really changed meaning to the extent that Fanon and Mohanty claim? At least in the Algerian context, Fanon mentions how certain revolutionary women were discovered by acquaintances and informed on to their parents who were scandalized at the thought of their daughters exposed in European dress. It took explanation and the establishment of a sense of urgency on the part of the woman for her parents to understand the necessity of her choice. As Fanon writes, "The old fear of dishonor was swept away by a new fear [...] that of death in battle or of torture of the girl". Thus, we are left wondering what happens when these threats disappear. Does the fear of dishonor reappear in the injunction to wear the veil? What happens when a woman wants to take off the veil because she does feel inhibited by it? Is it that easy to discard the roots of the veil as essentially a religious practice emphasizing female modesty and gender segregation? Is it possible that regardless of political alliance, some women might find this practice stifling? Much like the French, the local patriarchy does seem to perceive women as the repositories of their culture, and as such, the bearers of the burden to accept oppression as tradition. Women are, then, in a sense, caught in a double bind: betray your nation or betray yourself. One can imagine then that amongst the merrymaking and speeches laced with promises on Independence Day, a woman might ask herself, "What freedom?"
Before we attempt to answer the question, we must trace the path that leads to it; to this end, it is worthwhile to have a closer look at this entity called the "colonized". What social groups constituted the colonized, and what were the relations between them? Were there hierarchies? And if so, what kind, and who came out on top? When we look closely at the power structures other than colonization that defined the colonized society, we are also interested in how the overarching experience of colonialism affected these structures: were they uniformly reinforced, or disrupted? Or was each structure affected differently?
The structure that I will be particularly concerned with today is the near universal experience of patriarchy. What happened to women in colonial societies? Did the presence of the white colonizer lead to a form of double oppression? Or were the two structures at odds with each other, forcing women to choose a side and therefore, to choose what oppression they wanted freedom from? The answer, as often happens, lies somewhere in between. The peculiar and precarious position of women in colonial societies has been widely studied by different theorists in different contexts, but the context I will be concerned with today is that of Algeria, and more particularly, Frantz Fanon's essay "Algeria Unveiled".
The veil has been a site of contention in feminism, governmental politics (as in France), debates on racism, cultural relativism and so on for at least the past few decades. Its status as both a religious and cultural/ethnic marker has complicated attitudes around it where feminists are divided in their perception of the veil as a personal choice signifying alliance with a home culture, or as a form of oppression to be liberated from. Fanon takes this further in his exploration of the evolution of the significance of the veil in 1950s Algeria. What began as the local religious practice of purdah gained in importance as the symbolic defiance of French colonialism when the latter launched a campaign to unveil women. This was an attempt to turn them against the Algerian men and win them over as allies to French colonial endeavours, strengthening and validating their cultural imposition and establishing colonialism as a progressive and liberating force. Apart from arising out of a national colonial interest, the campaign was also deeply embedded in sexist and racist conceptions of Algerian women (as adornments to be looked at, and as voiceless, helpless, ignorant and backward). As we see, women did discard the veil according to the exigency of the nationalist struggle which required them to dress as European women to smuggle ammunition to the European part of the city, and then donned it back on when colonial authorities wised up to this practice and began thorough checks on European presenting women. The new subversive iteration of the veiling practice was one of disguise, using European conceptions of the veiled Algerian woman as helpless to breeze past their security checks, bombs and weapons securely hidden under the immense haik.
Thus, Chandra Mohanty's claim in "Under Western Eyes" that the veil needs contextualization to be understood is proved valid but, has the veil really changed meaning to the extent that Fanon and Mohanty claim? At least in the Algerian context, Fanon mentions how certain revolutionary women were discovered by acquaintances and informed on to their parents who were scandalized at the thought of their daughters exposed in European dress. It took explanation and the establishment of a sense of urgency on the part of the woman for her parents to understand the necessity of her choice. As Fanon writes, "The old fear of dishonor was swept away by a new fear [...] that of death in battle or of torture of the girl". Thus, we are left wondering what happens when these threats disappear. Does the fear of dishonor reappear in the injunction to wear the veil? What happens when a woman wants to take off the veil because she does feel inhibited by it? Is it that easy to discard the roots of the veil as essentially a religious practice emphasizing female modesty and gender segregation? Is it possible that regardless of political alliance, some women might find this practice stifling? Much like the French, the local patriarchy does seem to perceive women as the repositories of their culture, and as such, the bearers of the burden to accept oppression as tradition. Women are, then, in a sense, caught in a double bind: betray your nation or betray yourself. One can imagine then that amongst the merrymaking and speeches laced with promises on Independence Day, a woman might ask herself, "What freedom?"
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