The Breaking of the Virgin-Knot

George Will and Stephen Greenblatt both propose the obnoxious extremes of their opposition, attempting to paint their opponent as absurd and ignorant. Due to this technique commonly employed by most debaters, it is difficult for one to embrace either argument wholeheartedly. However, George Will discloses much enlightening commentary on the modern trend of our society to intellectualize literature to an overbearing degree. Will states, “Criticism displaces literatureand critics displace authors as bestowers of meaning.” Though it goes without saying that each individual will glean different insight from a piece of literature based on his own personal background and experiences, when other’s interpretations become the sole basis for truth and meaning, such that there is no truth and meaning, we forget that, at one point in time, and individual sat down with the intent of expressing himself through writing. He endeavored to write a letter to society, conveying whatever message he pleased, through whatever means he pleased. Though Greenblatt may be accurate in saying that, ‘Shakespeare’s imagination was clearly gripped by the conflict between the prince and the “savage” Caliban,’ Will is emphasizing the fact that Shakespeare was not necessarily taking a political stance on colonialism; he was merely conveying the complexities of human nature and morality, which is why Shakespeare remains so profoundly relevant even today. Shakespeare’s ultimate focus was less on the abuse of power pertaining  to ravenously colonizing imperial powers, and more pertaining to the abuse of power in general, pertaining to all aspects of life. He proposes the question: if one has the power to transform those around him into puppets, does that justify him doing so? When we hone in purely on the politics of literature, we lose sight of the “esthetics.” Literature is no longer appreciated for its sense of pure emotion and beauty, but rather its pure intellectuality, its possible theories of the oppressed and the oppressor. It is not to say that Greenblatt’s “painful, messy struggles over rights and values” and “political and sexual and ethical dilemmas,” cannot be acknowledged in literature. But they should not be acknowledged simply out of a feeling of obligation or necessity, out of a sense that literature could not possible express something other than the strife of a victimized minority so our defensive attitudes can serve as a form of disguised apology. There can be beauty in writing without the complete obliteration of influence and intellectually probing ideas, and there can be a central theme in literature without the complete oppression of individual interpretation.

But None Of Us Cared For Kate

“They’re not like us, and for that reason deserve to be ruled.” This statement, in which Edward Said dissects colonial mentality down to its core principle, depicts Prospero’s own justification in colonizing Caliban and branding him “the Other.” The chapter on Postcolonialism mentions hegemony, “dominant values…all people in a culture are consciously and unconsciously asked to conform to.” Every entity on the Island is forced to accept the culture Prospero has established, as he is the sole figure of authority. Caliban though, in particular, is oppressed to a more extensive degree. Not only has he experienced “a collapse of the ego,” the desecration of the I, or one’s personal sense of identity, but he has also been allotted an alternative identity, an identity based solely on his worth as a manual laborer. This situation parallels Britain’s colonization with uncanny similarity, as they too made, “them produce and then give up their countries’ raw materials in exchange for what material goods the colonized desired or were made to believe they desired by the colonizers.” Additionally, the chapter discusses how Britain, “justified their cruel treatment of the colonized by invoking European religious beliefs.” In the same way, Prospero condones his own behavior by referencing his history as Caliban’s savior, and relentlessly presents this argument to Caliban in an attempt to manipulate him out of a sense of obligation and inferiority. Prospero has created an image of Caliban that the all inhabitants of the Island have bought into, because Prospero’s conception is the only one they’ve ever known. They have all accepted Prospero’s hegemony as truth, rather than acknowledge his oppressive regime and dehumanizing treatment of Caliban as evidence of his, “unconscious desires for power, wealth, and domination.” Just as the Native Americans in the video were depicted by Hollywood as “blood thirsty savages,” and prevented from being proud of who they were, Caliban has beem depicted as monster for so long that he cannot remember not being called a monster, and therefore cannot feel any sense of pride or self respect.

Shakespeare clearly emphasizes a native stereotype with his representation of Caliban. Though Caliban recognizes Prospero’s treatment as cruel and unfair, his vision of freedom is not freedom from under a human authority, but freedom from brutality. Thus, when he meets Trinculo and Stephano and deduces that they are somewhat more civil than his current master, he swears to them, “to be thy true subject,” (Act II, Scene II). He has never considered being the master of his own life and destiny, Shakespeare paints him as a creature understanding and accepting of his own inferiority. He exclaims, “A plague upon the tyrant that I serve! I’ll bear him no more sticks but follow thee, thou wondrous man.” Caliban is content to be enslaved in servitude, as long as his master is gentle, never even considering the possibility that he may be in equal status to these noblemen. In fact, the only thing he considers is revenge. He tells Stephano, “I’ll yield him thee asleep, where thoust may knock a nail into his head.” Caliban is consumed only by pure spiteful, vengeance to wrong the man that has wronged him, so much so, his only pleasure is gained through anticipating these events. Shakespeare, allots few, if any, redeeming qualities: he is seemingly mean-spirited and frighteningly disfigured.  As a result, our judgments are somewhat biased due to Shakespeare’s own bias, a bias cultivated due to the fact that he was influenced by and grew up in 16^th century England.

Cock-A-Diddle-Dow

Prospero, though infused with unfathomable powers of sorcery, seeks absolute sovereignty over his sparsely populated island. In accomplishing this supremacy, his most favored and effective technique consists of ruthlessly preying on the dependence of those around him.  Because Prospero has been the sole figure of authority and knowledge in their lives, the others are forced to rely on him out of necessity, a sense of indebtedness, and the fact that this way of living is all they have ever known- and Prospero revels in the opportunity to take advantage of this. For example, Prospero begins to manipulate Miranda, first by defending his actions on the grounds of his love and devotion to her, “I have done nothing but in care of thee, of thee my dear on,” (Act I Scene II). He then proceeds to capture her attention with suspense and intrigue, and thus the trap has been set for him to elaborate in full on the narrative of his tragic history. Innocent, unsuspecting Miranda drinks in his poignant recollection of Antonio’s jealous deceit and betrayal, of their own miraculous survival, and of the noble and priceless schooling Miranda has received. Additionally, to maintain his superior position over the enslaved Ariel, Prospero constantly reminds her of, “the foul witch Sycorax,” under whose horrific authority Ariel stayed until her death, and that it was him, “when arrived and heard thee, that made gape the pine, and let thee out.” Because of this, Ariel feels she owes her service to this man whose rule, though only slightly more bearable than Sycorax’s, is her daily sustenance. She, like the naïve Miranda, is also taken into a false sense of security and hope by Prospero’s meaningless promises that after however many days doing whatever tasks, he will, “discharge thee.” Unfortunately, Prospero’s influence is not complete, as he requires it to encompass every living creature in his vicinity. Caliban, the, “abhorred slave,” is enslaved as well under Prospero’s merciless rule. Though, being, “not honour’d with a human shape,” (Act I, Scene II). Caliban is considered even more inferior and undeserving of human sympathies. Caliban remembers his childhood, the time when he was most impressionable, as a period of tender interactions between himself and Prospero, who instantly became a father figure in his life. However, all tenderness has vanished and now been replaced with biting hatred and resent, as Prospero imprisons him within a miniscule perimeter, and forces him to bend to their every whim through violent threats of physical harm, attempts at igniting guilt upon recollecting all that he did for him, and relentless insults and forcefully degrading speeches that have become a sort of ever present mantra that even Miranda engages in. In this way, Prospero utilizes the power of a single story being established as absolute truth to manipulate the emotions, desires, and actions of others and to maintain his tyrannical control over the “subjects” in his limited “kingdom.”

Apples And Mangos Are For All Races! (can I get an amen...)

What is the danger of a single story?


I have a fairly powerful hunch that if I were to sit down with four-year old Adichie, crayons and pencils flying through the air as she created little western society-based masterpieces, and divulged to her that I have always, in fact, preferred a juicy, yellow mango to an apple, she would hesitate to believe me. In fact, she would probably react with violent surprise and twisted facial expressions, revealing her inner turmoil upon suddenly realizing that everything she had known about the world, her world, was a lie. The single story had lied to her, and consequently robbed her of a certain paradise--a paradise that would come from knowing my Caucasian self as someone more dynamic than a blue-eyed, apple-eating, ginger beer-drinking American. And in this way, the single story has also robbed me of dignity. By reducing myself to a simple, generalizing stereotype, I am no longer an individual with a unique history, mindset, and hope. My culture is no longer a special entity of society working towards a multitude of goals in a multitude of ways due to the range of abilities these people possess. My country is no longer a diverse sea of colorful faces and stories that has endured both pain and triumph and has yet to be defeated. The story is sacred and terrible all at once because it is all we have connecting us to the rest of the world. I cannot be in Clovis while simultaneously visiting Iran. The closest I will ever get to this is turning the news on and experiencing the words and images of the country as perceived by others. In many circumstances, pertaining to many things, I am a blank slate waiting to have written on me knowledge of places and people I have not seen. These stories that fill my slate may be inaccurate, biased, or entirely false, and in most cases I have no way of discerning the valid information from the invalid. Though I am one person, and my opinions will most likely not create a massive tidal wave ripple effect, an entire nation or world of partially blank slates, involuntarily ingesting a single story, will turn the story into a stereotype, and the stereotype into a fact until the story has been engrained into our minds so forcefully, we are unable to reshape the knowledge in our minds that we have held as truth for so long.

What is the remedy for a single story? Seize hold of the ignorance repressing the growth and development of your global understanding, and use the body and mind you were given to explore individuals, cultures, and nations that may be under a single repeating conception in your mind, use it to read other stories. Or better yet, spread your own piece of hidden insight, and write your own.