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I would like now to demonstrate the problems and to work towards a solution by considering Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, and the issues of otherness and literature. I will begin by outlining certain post-colonial debates, to demonstrate points of conflict in Conrad's text.
My interest lies in showing how post-colonial theory engages with the problematic concept of the other. Edward Said's Orientalism describes the construct of the Orient-as-other. Sara Mills in Discourse summarises Said's position: 'The Orient was produced in relation to the West and was described in terms of the way it differed from the West'(1). Colonial discourse constructs the other in terms of characteristics the West believes are other to their own. This then projects a negative image of the Orient, which goes toward legitimising the colonial enterprise.
Western colonial discourse goes toward a reinforcement of stereotype. This image is seen as separate from the privileged history of the West. This is achieved in discourse by a number of means, such as the use of past tense. This places the colonised land in a state of prehistory, unevolved in relation to the West. This is evident in Heart of Darkness, where Marlow feels that, 'Going up that river was like travelling back to the earliest beginnings of the world'(2). In this respect, the text reinforces Said's belief in the presentation of underdevelopment. What this achieves is, as Sara Mills states, 'Their reality was not represented as being of the same order as a Western European reality'(3). In the same discussion, Mills also demonstrates Said's interpretation of the ethnographic present tense. This implicitly supposes a fixing of the colonised other in history, and of its inability to change.
In criticism of Said, Peter Childs and Patrick Williams, in Post-Colonial Theory believe he 'offers a theory of Orientalism which is monolithic, totalising, or just insufficiently nuanced'(4). Said's problem, which is a problem my study is focusing on, is the homogenisation of the other. This suggests a total possession of the Orient by the West, a fixed image of the other, and no site for subversion.
Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak's engagement with the Subaltern Studies Group shows an interest in the repressed voice of the other within colonial discourse. Spivak, by a deconstruction of colonial discourse, shows how the articulation of the other within blurs the boundaries between internal and external. Articulating this voice gives ground for transcending the imposing discourse. This possibility marks a separation from Said's monolithic theory. As Childs and Williams write, 'The insistence that the subject is significantly involved in the object of critical scrutiny marks a major difference between Spivak and Said'(5). Spivak attempts to speak the trace of the other within the same. In her essay 'Subaltern Studies: Deconstructing Historiography', Spivak suggests that changes causing colonisation, which usually result in capitalist subjection, and therefore the change in the modes of production, are not just socially violent events. She writes, 'Such changes are signalled or marked by a functional change in sign-systems'(6). Here, she relates the concept of othering to the change in a Saussurian social convention of the sign system. This is the connection between the other and the language system discussed in relation to madness. It would appear then, that madness is not the only subjected status to be alienated from the social sign structure.
Homi K. Bhabha also is concerned with Said's use of the other as totalized. He is concerned with this problem of 'fixing' the other, which is exemplified in stereotype. The stereotype represents a paradox. It articulates the other as knowable and fixed, yet, for Bhabha, it is a disavowal of difference, disorder and lack. It is thus a paradox between the known and the unknowable. Childs and Williams write, 'For Bhabha, this is representative of the colonial subject's attitude towards the Other, which is not a simple rejection of difference but a recognition and a disavowal of an otherness that holds an attraction and poses a threat'(7).
This paradox marks the coloniser's ambivalence. Its relation to the colonised subject, as Bhabha writes, is 'stereotype as phobia and fetish'(8). This relates to the imposition of binary. The coloniser must construct the colonised as other in order to legitimise imperialism. As I have discussed, the other is an imposed status. Here it denies any means for self representation. As with madness, the other is silenced. Stereotype is the means for doing this because it is a construct. For Bhabha, this is fetish, as it masks a logocentric phobia of difference and heterogeneity by a fixed image.
Bhabha also discusses mimicry as a colonial phobia caused by binary imposition. If the colonised mimics the coloniser, by anything from mannerisms to philosophy, the clear cut boundaries become problematised. Bhabha writes, 'The discourse of mimicry is constructed around an ambivalence'(9). Colonial discourse's ambivalence is due to the problems integral to binary categorisation, as its dissolution is always a threat. In Heart of Darkness, Marlow represents this ambivalence of 'the fascination of the abomination'(10). The 'threat' of mimicry is exemplified by Marlow's hearing the tribal gatherings, stating, 'It was unearthly, and the men were - no, they were not inhuman. Well, you know, that was the worst of it - this suspicion of their not being inhuman'(11). This corresponds to Bhabha's notion of the 'threat' of the other in the same.
Otherness, of its possibility and impossibility, its internal and external status, are key issues in Heart of Darkness. The representation of colonialism is crucial, in its relationship to whether the text is 'outside' of colonial discourse. For my reading, I will relate it to factors implicit in logocentrism, and in doing so, demonstrate the relationship of logocentrism and colonial discourse in their construction and repression of otherness.
When faced with the prospect of Kurtz's death, of his infinite absence, Marlow 'became aware that that was exactly what I had been looking forward to - a talk with Kurtz'(12). His contemplation of this voice leads Marlow to believe that which 'carried with it a sense of real presence was his ability to talk, his words - the gift of expression'(13). Faced with the absence of Kurtz's voice, a rare break in Marlow's narration, a silence in the voice, occurs. Despite his reverence for the voice of Kurtz, or perhaps because of it, he does not explicitly repeat those words. The ideality of the voice remains unrepeatable. We are told toward the end, by a journalist friend of Kurtz, that he 'confessed his opinion that Kurtz really couldn't write a bit - "but heavens! How that man could talk"'(14). Better that the full presence of Kurtz-the-eloquent be differentiated from the absence in writing.
The construct of Kurtz, his alignment with the voice and its logocentric properties of full presence and reason, correspond to a fixing of Kurtz as the transcendental signified. Marlow's travels are aimed 'dead in the centre'(15). In the journey up the Congo, Marlow believes, 'It crawled towards Kurtz ... we penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness'(16). Kurtz is positioned geographically at the centre, but he is also the transcendental signified of the colonial project, 'He is an emissary of pity, and science, and progress'(17). He is the example of colonialism's 'enlightenment' project. He is centre. As the bookkeeper says, 'In the interior you will no doubt meet Mr Kurtz'(18). After his death, Kurtz's Intended states, 'I cannot believe that I shall never see him again'(19). This is the disavowal of absence. All the logocentric factors surrounding Kurtz are the ideal of presence, and of the reason aligned with the colonialist project.
What is at the centre? Marlow considers that Kurtz's eloquence must have been before 'his - let us say - nerves went wrong, and caused him to preside at certain midnight dances with unspeakable rites'(20). Is Kurtz mad? If so then madness is within the heart of colonial 'reason', absence within presence. This would undermine the colonial rationalism Kurtz is set up to represent. Marlow believes, 'The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter nose than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much'(21). The moral purpose of the colonists is undermined throughout Heart of Darkness. Eloise Knapp Hay, in The Political Novels of Joseph Conrad believes this represents 'a vehement denunciation of imperialism and racialism'(22). Marlow looks too closely, and realises the ugliness of colonialism.
Kurtz's madness is ambiguous. Marlow's reaction is checked by the harlequin: '"Why! He's mad" I said. He protested indignantly. Mr Kurtz couldn't be mad. If I had heard him talk only two days ago, I wouldn't dare hint at such a thing'(23). Here, Kurtz sanity is saved by the Cartesian catch. He cannot be mad because he communicates. The presence of the voice is valued over the absence of madness. But it is obvious the line between reason and madness is dissolving within Kurtz.
As Jeremy Hawthorn writes in Joseph Conrad: Language and Fictional Self-Consciousness: 'Communication is pictured as a highly problematic process in Heart of Darkness'(24). For Kurtz, communication is what puts absolute madness into question. Problems with communication which signal the inarticulable, outside the social convention of language, are evident in the text. For Marlow, the belief is, 'It is impossible to convey the life sensation of any given epoch of one's existence, that which makes its truth, its meaning'(25). Marlow likens narration to a dream sensation, undermining the reason of linguistic communication. It culminates in another break in his story. Another incommutable silence. Also beyond Western social communication is the sound of the drums. Marlow states, 'The prehistoric man was cursing us, praying to us, welcoming us - who could tell? We were cut off from the comprehension of our surroundings'(26). Without the social contract of meaning, the expression of the other is inarticulable to the Western coloniser, and therefore beyond their control. When the language collapses in Heart of Darkness the reality fragments and fades.
For Kurtz, the colonised other communicates to him. 'Do you understand this?' asks Marlow, 'Do I not?'(27) replies Kurtz. The other language has invaded the totalised form of logocentrism. Kurtz is thus between the coloniser and colonised. This is why he is mad, because of the dissolution of binary distinctions, necessary for logocentrism and colonialism. For Kurtz, his articulation, his eloquence and his voice, mask the emptiness of the idea, the colonial project. Marlow considers his report for the international society for the suppression of savage customs. He comments, 'There was something wanting in him - some small matter which when the pressing need arose, could not be found under his magnificent eloquence'(28). There is only the rhetoric of Kurtz's communication, no essential transcendent meaning, which would legitimise the acts of Kurtz, the acts of the colonial empire. Just rhetoric. Kurtz is "Hollow at the core". For many Kurtz's voice, his eloquence, hides the nonmeaning, and disavows the ambiguity between self/other.
Kurtz's final words, 'The horror, the horror'(29), is the culmination of colonial reason into ambiguity. Homi K. Bhabha believes such nonsignification 'mocks the social performance of language with [its] non-sense'(30). Ambiguity defers the attainment of the signified, and displaces the binary which is necessary for social discourse. These are the binaries of self/other, reason/madness, articulable/inarticulable. Kurtz's final words are between, undermining all binary distinctions. The horror is neither articulate nor inarticulate. It stretches the possibilities of language as a social convention, without crossing to either madness or silence. Jeremy Hawthorn writes, 'Imperialism is the imposition of alien meaning on an unwilling recipient'(31). Kurtz represents the failure of this imposition, as his final articulation is ambiguous. He is deconstructed.
In the end, all that remains of Kurtz is his writings. This furthers the ambiguous relationship between presence and absence. The first time Marlow encounters the name Kurtz is juxtaposed with the bookkeeper's writing. It is as if this small gesture represents the trace of writing-as-other within Kurtz-as-presence. The bookkeeper also exemplifies the logocentric distrust of writing, as a fear on nonpresent communication. He says, 'I don't like to write to him - with those messengers of ours you never know who may get hold of your letter'(32).
Kurtz's writing explicitly referred to is the report. It reveals an attempt-to-write, a conformity to the logos as enlightened reason, as evident in the supreme eloquence (a property linked to Kurtz's voice - thus the representation of that voice) of its language. It is just rhetoric. The postscript, though represents a will-to-write, the implicit need to undermine the colonialogocentrism. It presents the truth of nontruth within the imperial enterprise. It is 'scrawled evidently much later, in an unsteady hand'(33). Its nuance of madness is explicit in the statement, 'Exterminate all the brutes!'(34). Here, in writing, which is more than the empirical marks, the suppressed nontruth of colonialism, and of logocentric attitudes, is displayed by a mad hand. It is the writing behind and within the colonial voice. The style subverts the rhetoric.
When the colonial other expresses, it is the expression of otherness. What this means is that when the colonised, characterised by an ambiguous concept of other, homogenised to disavow difference, speak, they express what is inexpressible in the logocentric language of the West. This is first evident in the expression of the cannibal, 'Eat 'im!'(35), the second instance in, 'Mistah Kurtz - he dead'(36). The grammar and spelling of the two - the only two expressions by native Africans in the novel - stretch accepted, totalized articulation. This is because what they express represent the unthought. 'Eat 'im!', the truth of the cannibal is morally offensive to Western sensibility, other to its own traits. The articulation of 'Mistah Kurtz - he dead', is the truth of absence. Kurtz is set up as the present transcendental signified, and to express his absence cannot be achieved from the logocentric discourse which needs presence, reason or voice. Here, in presenting the colonised 'other', is Conrad not supporting a stereotype which, though a denouncement of colonisation is evident, confirms a fixation of the other? This unthought is only unthought by the self of the Western logocentric. To suggest the native does not have reason or voice, is clearly racist. Such is the process of colonialogocentric othering. To express the other is to confine it as other. My criticism against Madness and Civilisation is evident here.
The representation of otherness is complex in Heart of Darkness. Though the denouncement of imperial violence is explicit, the process of othering is, here, inescapable. Marlow makes this realisation, 'I also was a part of the great cause of these high and just proceedings'(37). This is the logocentric trap which Derrida accuses Foucault's Madness and Civilisation of falling into. There is such a metaphysical tradition within language that the attempt to articulate otherness ends with the reinscription of it as otherness, and a reincorporation to the logocentric tradition. Heart of Darkness achieves criticism of colonialism, but cannot situate itself outside the tradition of othering, and the rhetoric of exclusion. Attempts to situate 'outside' to express the colonial other, reinforce the stereotype which homogenises difference. But in those moments of ambiguities, the horror unexpressed, the binary support to logocentrism is subverted. The text, like Foucault, cannot speak the silence, but is made ambiguously present in its extremities of style.
I have shown how the problems internal to Michel Foucault's Madness and Civilisation exemplify problems prior to any attempts to articulate otherness. This problem is that there is no homogenous other, and to believe so is to be reincorporated into binary thought, the rhetoric which confines the other. The work of Jacques Derrida is double edged. I have attempted to show the antagonism between his affirmation of writing and confirmation of logocentrism. Language, which is the site of communication, is a social contract, opposed to radical change, and part of a tradition which stabilises its concepts. Foucault's search for the zero point of language, when madness could converse freely with reason is doomed, as madness is always already other to language. Thus Derrida is pessimistic of the possibility of transgressing logocentrism. Are not the transgressions completely externalised as madness?
Yet I am not reading 'Derrida' as a totalisation. Much demonstrates the inherent qualities of writing as that which opposes traditional totality, presence and reason. Both madness and writing have been othered by this tradition. This then suggests a way out, as an affirmation of writing as other would undermine the binary distinction of self/other and cause new forms of articulation, beyond the margins and limitations of logocentrism. Misreading 'Derrida' is to free the desire of writing, of transcending logocentric rhetoric with the style of otherness. This is the 'Derrida' that writes, 'Is not the centre, the absence of play and difference, another name for death?'(1) Deconstruction gives the desire for play, which is to dissolve constrictive distinctions. Totalisation of meaning, monologic reason and being-as-presence are all displaced by the play of difference. 'It is play that should be affirmed'(2). Multi-meaning is opposed to totalisation and binary thinking. For deconstruction there is no totalised other, similar to the debates in post-colonial theory and the conceptualisation of Homi K. Bhabha's ambivalence.
I have attempted to demonstrate the difficulty of overcoming the logocentric trend in reading Heart of Darkness. By seeking to articulate the other, the stereotype, the disavowal of difference, is confirmed. Can heterogeneous otherness be expressed? Through the extremities of style, the will-to-write, the margins and limits of articulation and logocentrism are subverted. This is where Heart of Darkness succeeds. The problem of otherness, the articulation of the inarticulable is indeed a problem. To the question can madness, can otherness, be expressed, there is no answer. Yes/no is perhaps one of the most violent binaries in logocentric history. Only the possibilities should ever be affirmed. The eternal maybe.