Negritude and the future
By
IF one accepts the definition of negritude as an ideological movement, the expression in literature and the human sciences (particularly ethnology and history) of African nationalism, one must ask what will be its role now that independence has been achieved.
The leading specialists in contemporary Negro literature, science and art — Sartre, Jahn and Kesteloot — have not overlooked this problem. Sartre saw Negro poetry in the first place as a splendid weapon against colonial rule for writers rediscovering pride in their own race. But, for Sartre, the negritude movement was only one stage. Basing his conclusions on the marxist convictions of many Negro poets, their urge to transcend racial concepts and merge with the proletarian fight, the author of Orphee noir considered Negro protest poetry, a temporary phase.
“Negritude is the low ebb in a dialectic progression. The theoretical and practical assertion of white supremacy is the thesis; negritude's role as an antithetical value is the negative stage. But this negative stage will not satisfy the Negroes who are using it, and they are well aware of this. They know that they are aiming for human synthesis or fulfilment in a raceless society. Negritude is destined to destroy itself; it is the path and not the goal, the means but not the end”.
Sartre concluded his study with the following words;
“What will happen if the Negro despoils his negritude for the sake of the revolution and only wishes to be taken for a member of the proletariat? What will happen if he allows himself to be defined only by his objective condition; if he forces himself to assimilate white techniques to fight against white capitalism? Will the source of his poetry run dry? Or will the great Negro river colour the sea into which it flows? No matter: to each age its own poetry; in each period a nation, race or class is singled out by historical circumstance to take up the torch, because its situation can only be expressed or mastered through poetry. Sometimes poetic inspiration and the revolutionary urge coincide, sometimes they diverge. Let us welcome today the historical chance which has enabled the Negros 'to utter such a great Negro cry that it will shake the very foundations of the world”.
Lilyan Kesteloot rebukes Sartre for the 'no matter', and above all for appearing to think that the day will come when there is no longer any need for the exaltation of negritude. For her, it has a permanent value.
“Survival of their own cultural values in writers using a foreign language is not exclusive to the Negro race. The poems of Rabin-dranath Tagore have retained all the grace and wisdom of India, and The Prophet of Khalil Gibran is full of eastern mysticism. So much so that these works, written in English or French, belong in style to the literature of their countries and not ours. The Negro soul revealed here belongs to all time, and will not be superseded, as Sartre and his followers have maintained, any more than will the Slave or Arab souls or the French spirit!”
She ends with this quotation from Alioune Diop's inaugural speech to the conference at Rome: 'Since we cannot let ourselves be assimilated by the English, French, Belgian or Portuguese, or allow the original aspects of our talent to be eliminated in favour of a hypertrophied western vocation, we shall struggle to give this talent means of expression suited to its vocation in the twentieth century.'
Janheinz Jahn, who barely touches on the political aspects of contemporary Negro literature, has set out to define the criteria of 'neo-African culture'. He maintains that it should be a contribution to universal culture, but he assigns to it a more precise and important role than the mere offering of its originality to the world. Because it is essentially different from western culture — not just another culture among other people —African culture will provide a steadying factor intellectually and morally.
Indeed, Jahn sees the western world as rather 'dried up' by a mechanical civilisation which sacrifices everything to the object for its own sake. In African philosophy, on the other hand, the important thing is the meaning which the creator gives his object, this having a significance only in so far as man gives it one. Such a conception is necessary for the western mind as a kind of antidote to materialism.
'Only the Negro', asserts Jahn, quoting Senghor, 'can teach rhythm and joy to our world subjugated by machines.'
As we have seen, independence has come to practically the whole of Africa, but it is a tenuous independence, especially in the economic field. Unity has still to come. Neutrality has suffered many compromises. Socialism — in most case — has yet to be built. Although the foundations have been laid, there is still a lot to do. In these circumstances, one might imagine that literature and scientific research would set their sights on completing the first conquests of emancipation, and that this would determine the literary themes and direction of scientific research for the second generation of African intelligentsia.
The cause of unity could be decisively upheld by the ethnologists who would uncover the common ground in the beliefs and institutions particular to each African tribe. Historians could also take up the work by drawing the military conquerors, empire-builders and outstanding figures of African history as the forerunners of a future United States of Africa.
Every war gives rise after the event to a whole literature recounting the exploits and sufferings of those involved, so one might expect Negro historical novels exalting the memory of the fight for independence. In the construction of socialism, an aggressive literature might be developed, criticising the go-getting of some, the opportunism of others, abusive profits, and customs of their countries community habits which would forecast the institution of collectivism; they could hunt out the traditions which could best be adapted to the needs of modern Africa.
A few writers have already started on this work. Sheikh Anta Diop has tried to find characteristics common to the different African societies; Sembene Ousmane has traced the story of one of the historic strikes in French West Africa; Frantz Fanon has discovered in the 'African palaver', a custom close to self-criticism; Mamadou Dia has attempted to sketch out a type of co-operative based on clan property; Niane has resurrected the epic of Sundiata, and Babikir has revived that of Rabah.
There is still a vast field to explore, but pioneers have already pointed the way. There remains the works of the second wave. Sartre predicted that the Negro struggle would give way to a proletarian struggle; the fight of African intellectuals has so far not always tended to go in this direction. This is not because some of them have become resolutely anti-communist. The striking thing, even among marxist sympathisers, has been their concern to build an African version of socialism.
Georges Balandier summarises this desire for a specific brand of socialism when he stresses that African marxists have accepted Soviet ideology only with reservations. African Christians have also tried to give their faith a special stamp. This is the whole reason for the black messiahs and the 'Ethiopian' churches. But this preoccupation with the African personality is just as marked among strict Catholics and protestants, if only in their efforts to find echoes of Christ's teaching in their ancestral beliefs.
The Kampala meeting, in 1963, of representatives of Anglican, Protestant and Orthodox churches to create a 'panafrican conference of churches' which would give 'a renovated church to young Africa', was a clear illustration of this concern.
African intellectuals should bring the 'Negro emotion', mentioned by Senghor, to modern society, which has been levelled off by a mechanical, dehumanised civilisation; the interest of their message should outlive the historical situation which has revived Negro philosophy. But once the spur of a cultural renaissance, brought into being by political claims, is lacking, will the spirit which animated the first surge of negritude survive?
Jahn's suggestion of the need for an African contribution towards a more balanced world seems far less compelling than one which would lead to political combat arising from a statement of the wrong doings of the colonial regime.
When Cesaire takes for granted the Negro's non-technical nature in his famous lines, it is to boast that suffering has made him more human than other people. Jahn considers that the source of this warmer Negro humanity lies in his ancestral traditions; Cesaire thinks it comes from his past as a slave and a colonial subject; for Kane it is the muslim faith. But all three agree that the Negro has a better feeling for humanity than other people, and a message to give the world. This message counterbalances the white man's technical contributions and is a step towards cultural miscegenation, which Alioune Diop and Senghor have also advocated.
Such are the reflections to which a study of the future of negritude give rise.
A controlled negritude
It is surprising that Sartre, Jahn and Kesteloot have not considered the possible courses opened, or closed, to Negro literature by political regimes placing scientific thought and artistic endeavour under state control. Such a situation clearly cannot be ignored, especially since it is already a reality in a number of states. This second phase of the negritude movement would differ in several essential ways from the preceding one, yet still be inspired by the same themes. It would lack one dimension essential up till now — that of the pioneer and combatant.
Negro intellectuals in the service of the African state will no longer need to fear repression or pressure from the colonial administrations; they will receive official encouragement. Although their work may be inspired by convictions as strong as those of politically committed intellectuals before independence, they will have lost the freedom fighter's halo. Must one assume that their work will be less interesting, their contribution to the building of a new Africa less important?
Mphahlele maintains that the cultured elite in Ghana and Nigeria is becoming middle class because the diplomas of its members give them access to positions of responsibility, whereas in South Africa the Negro intellectual is still a member of the proletariat because the policy of racial segregation prevents his obtaining any of the better jobs reserved for white people.
In West Africa, devoid of settlers, negritude could become a game for aesthetes, finding their raison d'etre in a complacent narcissim, while in the detribalised southern part of Africa 'a rugged proletarian literature' could develop, as Fanon has suggested.
Whether this be so or not, and although we may miss the spontaneity and taste of danger characteristic of a literature which fights against the established order, we may look forward to more productive scientific research, unshackled from the prejudices of a foreign power. The rebel intellectual's works may suffer from his precarious situation, just as that of the cosseted intellectual may be impaired by his security.
In any case, it would be going too far to presuppose the African intellectuals' docility in his independent homeland. On the contrary, we can imagine that not all the intellectuals of the next generation will be satisfied with the path that is laid down for them. it is probable that their critical faculties will be sharpened by the choice between the various ways open to the newly independent states of Africa. The controversies already in full swing among politicians will doubtless be extended into literature and scientific research. As far as one can tell from the first indications, the dividing line will be drawn less by geographical criteria than by ideological dictates. The collection of Sembene Ousmane's short stories, Voltaique, is an indictment of the new coloured bourgeoisie which has come to power.
An enquiry carried out recently among African students in France by Jean-Pierre Ndiaye provides some answers to these questions on the future of the negritude movement. The young Senegalese sociologist questioned a sample of over 300 black students, in Paris and the provincial towns, out of a total of nearly 5,000 African students in France in 1961-2. A first questionaire set out to discover whether the new generation of African intellectuals feels that the fight is virtually over when independence is granted. Far from it. Indeed, to the question 'Do you feel that there is a conflict between your leaders and yourself?', 63 per cent of students answered 'Yes'. And the causes of this discontent? For 27 per cent of the students who felt themselves in conflict with their leaders, it was because 'they are betraying independence, endorsing the policy of neo-capitalism and rejecting African solidarity and unity'. For 18 per cent, it was because 'they are favouring the establishment of a middle class and carrying out a class policy against the people and progress.' If today's students remain faithful to their youthful convictions, we may expect the literary and scientific work of the new wave in Africa to be scarcely less politically committed than that of their predecessors.
As with the work of the first authors of the negritude movement, it is likely to be militant literature and research — unless, that is, the blackguard politicians of today mend their ways or are replaced by others who can do better. What will be the aims of this young generation, in the light of the weakness which they are denouncing in the African statesmen of today? The ideals of unity and socialism are still in the forefront of their minds. To the question, 'Do you think the African states of tomorrow should be split up as now, federally united or confederally united?' only 3 per cent opted for the first solution, 34 per cent for the second and 53 per cent for the third. Similarly, very few Negro students advocated a captitalist-type economy: only 7 per cent of those questioned would like to see a liberal economy with a preponderance of private business established in their own country.
Although most of them favour socialism, their views are divided more or less equally between its different aspects: 38 per cent prefer 'integral socialism' on Soviet or Chinese lines, 30 per cent 'personal or community socialism’, and 20 per cent the ‘liberal socialim’ of the Scandinavian countries. Other equally clear signs of the reflection of marxist ideologies in the thinking of African students emerge from Ndiaye's questionaires. The USSR and the Chinese People's Republic head the list of the most-admired countries. The writers who have had the greatest influence on the students questioned are revolutionary and marxist writers. It is interesting to note that 52 per cent class themselves as Christian (catholic or protestant) and 32 per cent as muslim. Opinions on religion are nevertheless extemely divided, and their stay in France has generally resulted in students practising their religion far less than before.
Replies to Ndiaye's enquiry give the impression, therefore, that the two major slogans of African nationalism — independence and unity — have kept their validity for the next generation of Africans. Socialism also has widespread support, but interpretations of it vary. The questions asked do not throw any clear light on the popularity or neutrality and non-engagement. It is also difficult to know (the question was not asked) whether the students think the exaltation of negritude should continue to be a weapon in the fight. The only indications here are the order of preference of Negro writers 'who have contributed most to knowledge about and rehabilitation of African Negro culture.' Cesaire comes top (42), followed by Senghor (38 per cent) and Sheikh Anta Diop 31 per cent. Ndiaye's questionaire also throws light on the African students' attitudes to the former colonial power now that decolonisation is complete. On the whole, this is not un-favourable, and France is held to be maintaining friendly relations at government level with its former colonies.
Under the circumstances, and as the wounds are closing fast, should we conclude that, after all, they were not so deep? That would be a very hasty judgement. The works I have quoted in this study testify to the deep humiliations experienced. Of course, some of the African nationalists' exaggerations have been dictated, not purely by conviction, but by tactical considerations also. From the moment battle was engaged, it was no longer possible to give the enemy the benefit of the doubt. The colonial world had to be painted in black and white, with no shades of grey: the black was for Europe and the white for Africa. Exaggeration, however, was not exclusively the privilege of African intellectuals. It was a reply to other extravagances, which were felt all the more keenly since they came from the stronger side. Moreover, it is unusual for a writer of the negritude movement not to have expressed, at some time or another, his rejection of all anti-white racialism and his desire for the brotherhood of man.
Today, when most of Africa is free or, more precisely, freed from direct colonisation, the movement's often aggressive attitude to the white world at the height of battle, when exaltation of Negro values was but an aspect of the dominated people's protest, has rather lost its point. The generation of Africans who have not known colonisation should be able to adopt a calmer attitude towards the white world. But — and this is an important qualification — this new generation has been nourished on the literature of its predecessors.
Their recent fight will be the pride and inspiration of their successors for years to come. We should not forget this as we try to establish a new friendship. A sudden interest in Africa runs the risk of seeming like a tardy conversion to the cause of African freedom. Conspicuous solicitude, hasty to offer advice from centuries of experience, may be interpreted as the expression of egoistic interests or tenacious paternalism. Such attitudes are sure to arouse latent susceptibilities.
The people of the former colonies, and particularly those where blood was shed, are slowly recovering from a profoundly traumatic experience. Only Europe could believe it is easy to make a clean sweep of memories such as these.
Excerpts from The Literature & Thought of Modern Africa (second English edition), (Heinemann).
January 2002