I have chosen essay option 1, and will discuss the
function of history in Mohsin Hamid’s The
Reluctant Fundamentalist (the abbreviation TRF will be used to refer to the novel throughout the essay).
The novel is written in a first-person narrative, the
narration as such related by the main focalizing character, Changez, who is recounting
his experiences as a young student and professional in America to an American
visitor at a restaurant in Lahore, Pakistan. The novel thus alternates between two
quite distinctly different settings, the story-telling spell at the restaurant,
functioning as a frame-story; and the story that is being told, i.e. the gradual
unraveling of Changez’ encounters with American culture and society. By the end
of the final chapter, the two narrative strands meet.
Bibliography
In this
essay, I will argue first that history has a crucial constituting function in
both these settings, albeit used in different ways, and extracted from
different sources; and second, that in the “framed” story, i.e. Changez’
experiences in America, history is both symbolically signified, and thus a
fundamental pre-condition for an understanding of the symbols employed; and
also overtly present, most notably by the prominent place given to the events
of 9/11 and the ensuing aftermath. I will try to demonstrate that the
frame-story depends on and exploits both the notion of, and a knowledge of, one
of the possible fictional literary or historiographically construed archetypes
of the Oriental man, and of the Orient as such; that the narrative deals with
contemporary American history seen through the lenses of historically embedded
symbolically charged characters; and that the merging of the two narrative
strands at the end of the novel signifies a convergence of these approaches to
history. Thus, the main overarching question in this essay is as follows: How
can overtly expressed and symbolically signified historical elements be seen to
represent, underscore and comment upon the main themes in The Reluctant Fundamentalist?
What is history, how can history “function” in a novel,
and how does it function in TRF? These
are important questions, and should probably be investigated thoroughly before
embarking on this analysis. However, barring the last one, these are for the
undersigned much too broad and complex to address in this short essay, and would
in any case probably receive distinctly different answers depending on any given
text at hand. However, for the present purpose, I will assume a mutual
dependency between history and literature, the two reinforcing each other, and that
the intertextual history leading up to TRF
is important both for the creation of its characters, and for the understanding
of the novel’s most salient themes. Moreover, I will focus on three important
historical phenomena, as I see them relevant for an analysis of TRF: The contemporary American history,
where the 9/11 terror and its aftermath is central; the older colonial history
of Europe, and the subsequent imperial history of America; and the more
literary or historiographically construed history of the Orient, with specific
reference to Edward Said’s Orientalism.
Throughout
the novel, the character of Changez is representing two distinctively different
personas, each with a separate set of characteristics: A young, brilliant,
hardworking, initially apolitical, Asian student-turned-business-professional
in the main story; and a stereotyped Oriental man in the frame-story. The
latter is a caricature; the former, despite also seeming to draw heavily on one
of the many stereotypes of Asian immigrants to the US, is presented as a more real
and convincing flesh-and-blood human being.
Naturally,
neither of these types exist in a vacuum; however, I will contend that the
former depends on a more recent notion of the “best and the brightest” (Hamid
4) from all over the world, and especially in this context brilliant “model
minority” Asians – according to Bhattacharyya (2), “industrious, quiet,
law-abiding citizens,” with a strong work-ethic and a built-in hierarchical
leaning – being attracted to top American universities to study, or becoming
head-hunted by the most resourceful corporate recruiters; whereas the latter is
more dated, and refers back to an intertextually created image of the Oriental
man. Thus, when Changez is playing the role of the story-teller, this seems, at
least at the inception of the novel, to be a parody on a stereotype of one
version of an Oriental man. Both the content of this role, and the specific
execution it gets in this novel, depends on a history of assumptions, and
representations, of the Oriental other.
In his
seminal monograph Orientalism, concerning
the development of European representations of the Orient and the Oriental
other, Said refers to the history of scholarly works on the Orient where the
“distinctions between the type … and ordinary human reality” is obliterated (230),
giving whatever the Oriental is an “aura of apartness, definiteness, and
collective self-consistency” (229). So even though representatives of Imperial
Britain described the Oriental man in general terms as being “irrational,
deprived (fallen), childlike, different,” in contrast with the “rational,
virtuous, mature, normal” European (40), the “Oriental,” according to Said,
becomes such a general category (102) that the entire view could only be called
“schizophrenic” (102). So, from this “bin called ‘Oriental’ … into which all
the authoritative, anonymous and traditional Western attitudes to the East were
dumped unthinkingly” (102), Changez picks up a specific role to that he can
play – the one of the subservient, submissive, servile, ever-so-polite and decidedly
effeminate, the subordinate servant in a ruler-ruled relationship; i.e., an
abstracted and de-individuated version of an Oriental man, its execution and
inherent characteristics informed not by reality but by an historically
construed version of it.
How is
this version of Changez’ character signified in the text? I would say that it
is immediately defined by the few opening lines: “Excuse me, sir, but may I be
of assistance? Ah, I see I have alarmed you. Do not be frightened by my beard;
I am a lover of America” (1). Changez begins by an apology; he refers to his
interlocutor by the socially stratifying deixis “sir” (used prolifically
throughout the novel); he offers him his assistance; the interjection “ah” in
this context is simultaneously overly polite, disarming, and a marker of
flamboyant effeminacy; he assures him of his good intentions despite his
foreign and potentially sinister appearance; and he professes his love to his
companion’s country of origin. All of this is what one would expect from a
faithful, devout Oriental servant, a motif prevalent throughout literary
history. More to the point, it functions because we as readers believe in it:
It is recognizable due to the established corpus of texts with similar types,
and therefore efficient.
However, there
are several important factors in TRF setting
this particular appropriation of this stereotype apart from how it is commonly
used – serving to underscore the fact that we are actually witnessing a certain
use of a specific type, but perhaps more importantly, to comment on a potential
historical trajectory of the creation of a type like this, and, further, to put
into relief the other narrative strands in the novel.
First,
Changez uses his enactment of an Oriental to take control of the situation, and
to manipulate the American visitor – one that we are gradually lead to suspect,
and in the final scene to ascertain with some certainty, is some kind of hired
assassin.
Second, and
in order to be able to execute this manipulation, it is the devout, subservient
version of Changez who is the focalizer of this encounter: Historically,
similarly stereotyped “others” are normally described from the outside, and
functioning as supporting rather than central characters; here, Changez’ role
in the restaurant is absolutely the central one; the addressee it silent
throughout the novel. And Changez is by no means “irrational,” he is rather in
complete and very rational command of the situation – and in the (inconclusive)
end perhaps averting an attempt on his life (or not, based on one’s
interpretation). This inversion of roles is also underscored by Changez
stereotyping the American, by concluding from his “bearing” (and nothing else)
that he is in fact an American (2). By the additional virtue of this being a
correct assumption, this move serves both to reinforce our interpretation that
perhaps both roles are symbolic representations rather than “real” individuals;
and foreshadows the novels later argument, that there is an interplay between
these stereotypes and the realities that they spring from.
Third, as
Anna Hartnell points out, there is a sinister undercurrent to the character of
Changez, foreshadowed in my opinion already in the first lines quoted above by
the reference to his beard, today a powerful and “universally” (in the sense “all
over the Western world”) recognized symbol of Muslim extremism, one that is
going to play a central role later in the novel. Additionally, this sinister
undercurrent is reflected in the frame-story’s immediate surroundings: When
darkness falls, the market they are in gets an “ominous edge,” one
“occasionally glimpses a gash of moon” through the cloudy sky, the alleyways
have “darkening shadows” (Hamid 176). According to Hartnell,
[Lahore’s]
decidedly bloody nature along with the ‘shadowy’ figures and places that
characterize Hamid’s Lahore underscore the fact that the novel deliberately
filters the city through Orientalist stereotypes, demonstrating its status as a
menace in the imagination of the Western reader. (337)
Thus, it would seem that Changez, by consciously
internalizing (one of) the false Western construct(s) of the Oriental, appropriates
this stereotype for his own advantage, and, when having gained a certain
position relative to his addressee, exploits a different Oriental stereotype,
that of the hidden menace, the lurking in the shadowy corners, in order to
manipulate him.
Historically,
as Said has suggested, reductive essentialist, collectivist, and often
derogatory representations of the other have served a purpose, namely that of justifying
domination of the other. In a 1980 essay on the relation between the West and
the Islamic world, Said writes that Western representations of Islam amount to “a
series of crude, essentialized caricatures of the Islamic world presented in
such a way as to make that world vulnerable to military aggression” (“Islam
Through Western Eyes”). What Hamid does here is to reverse this dynamic, at
least to some extent: A crude, essentialized caricature is exploited to gain
dominance by the “other” over the “one.”
It is in the “main” story, the story framed by the Lahore
setting, that we find the important contemporary historical moment becoming the
transformational event for Changez, but also the presence and realization of
the main, heavily symbolically imbued, supporting characters.
As
mentioned above, Changez has two personas. Although perhaps not a typical
representative of the core model minority – at least not according to my
understanding of the that group’s current composition and connotations – Changez
starts out as a model minority individual, complete with the group’s defining
characteristics: Hard-working, studious, excelling in his work, disinterested
in politics, having “among the top exam results in Pakistan” (4). This is both
a constitutive factor of his own identity, and also how he is initially
approached at Princeton and at the firm Underwood Samson. Moreover, he has come
to America motivated by the dream shared by so many of those who have come
before him: To seek his fortune in a land of an abundance of opportunities,
where, purportedly, you are judged by your merits alone. And, at first, he
succeeds: He is “invited into the ranks of the meritocracy” (4), and when he
lands a job at U.S., he knows that the firm has the potential to “transform
[his] life … making [his] concerns about money and status a thing of the past”
(16).
It is this
persona that becomes the object of substantial change, set in motion by the
momentous 9/11 terror attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. This catastrophic
event – together with the ensuing bombing of Afghanistan – becomes a fundamental
formative factor for Changez, making him re-evaluate the execution of his profession,
his life choices, and his allegiances. The ideals of his firm, Underwood Samson
– nominally alluding to the US, or perhaps to Uncle Sam, symbolically to a
certain fundamental aspect of American culture – seems also to become, in his
understanding, a fundamentally flawed foundation of the culture he has
embraced: “Focus on the fundamentals.
This was Underwood Samson’s guiding principle” (112). Importantly, as Changez
is in the Philippines at the day of the terror attacks, he seems aware of the
disparity between his own and the firm’s ideals even before he returns to
America and is meet with racial profiling at the airport, and the subsequent
incriminatory stares and racial slurs in the new post-9/11 milieu: He cannot
help but smile when he sees the very symbols of the culture by which he has
made his living utterly destroyed: “I stared as … the twin towers of New York’s
World Trade Center collapsed. And then I smiled”
(83).
Moreover,
the aftermath of the terror attack, the reactions it caused it American
society, with its reversion, or perhaps regression, to racism, patriotism and
xenophobia, changes both Changez and his surroundings, and the dynamics between
the two: He is no longer seen as a representative of a model minority, but as a
potentially threatening other; and he no longer wants to live up to the image
of a model minority: He grows a beard, he starts questioning his work, and
eventually, when stationed in Chile, stops doing it. Thus, after 9/11, Changez is
seen through lenses of suspicion reminiscent of those the European has seen the
Oriental throughout history – exemplified by being derogated as a “fucking
Arab” (134), a complete misnomer considering the fact that he is a Pakistani,
inferred by his beard and complexion alone.
As I have touched
on above, I would argue that the cultural change in America post-9/11 did not
constitute something new, but rather a reversion to a common theme in American
history, that of a potentially ill-founded and introvert patriotism, with a
contingent ingrained suspicion of the other. As Hartnell (339) suggests, TRF’s “implication seems to be that the
chauvinistic and racially charged atmosphere it describes after 9/11 is merely
an intensification of something that was already there before.” Changez (in his
capacity as the storyteller) actually describes this transformation as an
invasion, by recounting one of its most potent symbolical manifestations, the
post-9/11 plethora of flags: “Your country’s flag invaded New York after the
attack; it was everywhere” (90).
There has
always been a strong patriotic or nativist undercurrent in American culture,
dividing more or less arbitrarily the population into two categories, those who
are in and those who are not. Throughout American history, whenever this
undercurrent has seen reason to come to the fore, the distrust of the other has
been afforded on (to name a few) Catholics, especially in the mid-eighteen
fifties; the Chinese in the last decades of the nineteenth century; the
Japanese during the second world war; communists, or suspected communist, in
several waves; and gradually from the late seventies and onwards (perhaps after
the Iranian revolution and the 1979 Iran hostage crisis) – accentuated
dramatically after several acts of terror in the nineties and especially after
9/11 – on whoever can conceivably be considered a potential Islamist terrorist.
Thus, in the words of Hartnell (339), TRF
could be said to portray the “destruction of the World Trade Center not as a
definitive turning point in US discourses on race, religion or nation, but
rather as the violent disturbance of ‘old thoughts that had settled in the
manner of sediment to the bottom of a pond’ (Hamid 94).”
Expanding on this perspective, the manner in which TRF comments on this situation, both
regarding internally American aspects of it, and the ramifications it has for
the world – specifically for the relations between the US and the part of it
defined as “Islamic” – is perhaps best explored when the entire novel is
analyzed as an allegory, with specific focus on naming. This is a further
aspect of the novel where history functions in a specific and important manner:
The symbolism of the names and what they represent – and the commentary and
perspectives the attitudes and actions characters and institutions bearing
these names give to the novel’s thematic matter – depend on their respective
embeddedness in their historical backgrounds, i.e. the historically based
meanings they signify.
The more idealized,
romantic and perhaps nostalgic nationalism of America is symbolized by the
character of Erica, the love-interest of Changez. He describes her as
tantalizingly beautiful; she is sporting a Chairman Mao T-shirt at their first
meet (19), perhaps alluding to an idealist streak; and, as Changez observes,
“it was immediately apparent that I would not have, in my wooing of Erica, the
field to myself” (20). Thus, Erica seems to embody the romantic notions of an
ideal nation, alluring and mythical, coveted by the rest of the world.
Erica
emerges from a relationship with Chris, functioning as a likely allusion to the
“first” arriving European in America, or as a representative of the American
version of European Christianity. His function – accentuated by Erica’s
inability to let go of the memory of him, becoming ever more attached to what Chris
meant to her after the 9/11 terror – could be seen to represent the romantic
and ideal version of America envisioned by her first European pilgrims: A land
of opportunity, and an escape from the old hierarchies of Europe.
However, the
novel seems to suggest that the creation of this myth comes at a prize, and that
Erica is situated as an antithesis to the corporation Underwood Samson
(hereafter, U.S.), with its own clearly defined but reductive – and perhaps here
seen as perverted – version of American exceptionalism. So, Erica and U.S.
represent two different strands of American cultural history. This might be an
overly speculative interpretation, but still: “Erica” is “America” without the
first person singular indicative present tense form of BEV, perhaps
symbolizing an ideal alternative to the extremely atomized individualism
necessary for a meritocracy-based free-market capitalism – by its extreme focus
on standardizations, actually reconstituting a social hierarchy. To use the
image of the melting pot, out of the many comes a one, and this one must comply
to a system of relations fundamental to the American nation. The corporation
tolerates cultural differences, but only skin-deep: At the end of the day, all
are measured by the same standards. The common cultural denominator for which
the melting pot serves as a catalyst might be the very engine that fuels this
myth of boundless opportunities, i.e. the specifically American version of a capitalist
system, both enabling and depending upon economic world hegemony. This is built
on eternal growth, and thus has to expand beyond the confines of the American
borders.
This
system of social relations creates a double fallout: one in the countries
subjected to American economic dominance (and, whenever necessary, the
corollary political or military means needed to enforce this dominance); the
other within America itself. The concept of blowback (Hartnell 341) describes
this dynamic perfectly: US interventions in foreign countries, be they
economic, political or military, create the foundation for an increased
animosity in these countries, and a potential for various acts of resistance,
on US soil or overseas. The conditions for this blowback will partly be created
by naturalized foreigners from all over the world, such as Changez, who are
then punished in America when the blowback strikes, fairly or unfairly,
discriminately or indiscriminately, as they will then be seen by whoever
constitutes a majority America as one of the responsible others.
So, the
wish to become a model participant in the American Dream might come at a prize:
The demand of contributing to its expansion, at the expense of the eradication
of your own cultural heritage, and the potential subjugation of your country of
origin by your own hand. The ideals guiding U.S. are the very same ideals
initially attracting Changez – and thus it is a fitting irony that Changez
should revert to fundamentalism when confronted with the dark side of this
system: He has contributed in the digging of his real self’s grave, by
believing in a system with its own version of a destructive fundamentalism geared
to conquer by dividing, all over the world.
The archetype, or motif, of the Oriental man probably
belongs more to intertextual history than to history as such – or perhaps more
accurately, to how history has been told, and represented, both in fiction and
in factual prose. Albeit this archetype is void of a real-world signified, it
became pervasive in the representation of the Oriental other seen through the
lenses of European and later American writers and intellectuals throughout the
centuries. Moreover, a fictitious notion could most certainly be operative
without being real. As Said (273) points out,
My whole
point about this system [of representations of Orientalism in European culture]
is not that it is a misrepresentation of some Oriental essence … but that it
operates as representations usually do, for a purpose, according to a tendency,
in a specific historical, intellectual, and even economic setting.
Thus, the creation of the notion of Orientalism, the
“codes of Orientalist orthodoxy” (Said 39), was consistently referred to by
European colonial powers, especially the British, as a justification for
colonial rule (39).
The two
stories of TRF merge in the final
scene, and so, I believe, do two of the historical strands they have represented
through the novel: The older European colonial imperialist system versus the
modern American military and economic hegemony. After all, the main character
is appropriately named Changez, signifying a change in his own character; in
how he is perceived; but most significantly in the historical perception of the
character of the Oriental other: From submissive, servile and subservient,
womanlike; to aggressive, devious, masculine, threatening.
As is read
Said, it would seem that his main contention is that the actual features of the
other, the content of his character, is of secondary importance. Rather, the
important factor is having the power to be able to define someone as an
“other,” and, as an extension of that, to shape his characteristics as you see them
fit, in accordance with whatever end his representation is meant to serve. In
an historical perspective, and a very cynical reading of history at that, if
your objective is to dominate someone, to rule their country, to educate them,
to bring them out of ignorance and depravity, and to make sure that they
produce raw materials for your industry – as I hope could serve as a
rudimentary summary of the complex of motivations behind British colonial rule
– it makes sense to cast the other as a having characteristics consistent with the
at the time similarly dominated female or child population of your own country.
However,
if you want to instigate a state of perpetual global war, where you are either “with
us or against us” – and where the other is an ominous threat not only
internationally but conceivably also at home – it serves your purpose better to
have a slightly altered view of the other: still irrational, but more
aggressive, more masculine, more devious, utterly immoral, and consumed by hatred
for the West and its ideals: an elusive and potentially omnipresent enemy to be
vanquished, rather than a child-like people to be dominated. This might be the
role Changez, reluctantly, spurred by the machinations of the very system he
first comes to embrace, is lead to enact – or at least, comes to be seen by the
outside world to enact.
If, as
Hartnell suggests, there exists an ideal version of American nationalism, an
idea that “the United States might represent an inherently anti-imperial and progressive
project” (346), and that one herein can find the potential for a “better
future” for America, then I would suggest that TRF is ambivalent to the possibilities for a realization of this
ideal, to say the least. As a novel is read linearly, Changez appears as two
parallel characters throughout, the stereotype more stable, the other gradually
changing into his Lahore version. Perhaps in one person a double to the
Erica/U.S. contrast, Changez on the one hand represents the two mutually
exclusive and equally reductive and stereotypical views Americans have on the
other; and on the other hand, Erica and U.S. represents two almost
diametrically opposed but perhaps deeply and inextricably connected versions of
America: A “land of the free” with a fundamentalist and almost religious belief
in capitalism, at least in the eyes of the world.
This sets
the stage for what seems to be presented as an unsolvable situation: Erica
disappears into oblivion, unattainable for Changez, clinging to the dream of
her former lover and what he symbolized; and in the end, even though the ending
is deliberately open – or perhaps, by the very virtue of the ending being
deliberately held open – it seems that the two cultures, the American defined
by U.S. and the current stand-in for the other, the Islamic, are pitted against
each other (or, perhaps more suitably denoted, “clash”), in an inconclusive,
and thus potentially endless, zero-sum game, i.e. a war. Changez woes but is
rejected by Erica, and ends up locked in battle with America.
However, I
believe an argument could be made that TRF
in itself, seen as a whole, gives as reductive and stereotyped depiction of
current East-West relations, and more specifically, how fundamentalists are
created: To take just one qualifying example, one must assume that only a tiny
minority of Pakistani-born professionals working in the US turned to Islamist
fundamentalism after the 9/11 terror – even the ones employed in a business
similar to that of Changez. The price to pay for an analysis expressed through
fictional allegory is a perhaps a certain level of simplification; however,
read in this manner, as an abstracted allegory, I would suggest that TRF serves as a reminder of the very
real existence of more complexity and other potential outcomes.
Bibliography
Bhattacharyya,
Srilata. “From ‘Yellow Peril’ to ‘Model Minority’: The transition of Asian
Americans.” Paper presented at The Annual Meeting of the Mid-South Educational
Research Association, Little Rock, Arkansas, 14–16 November 2001. Web. 22 May
2012. < http://eric.ed.gov/PDFS/ED462462.pdf>.
Hamid,
Mohsin. The Reluctant Fundamentalist.
London: Penguin Books, 2008. Print.
Hartnell,
Anna. “Moving through America: Race, place and resistance in Mohsin Hamid’s The Reluctant Fundamentalist.” Journal of Postcolonial Writing 46.3
(2010): 336–48. Print.
Said,
Edward W. “Islam Through Western Eyes.” The
Nation 26 April 1980. Web. 22 May 2012. <http://www.thenation.com/article/islam-through-western-eyes>.
Said,
Edward W. Orientalism: Western Conceptions of the Orient.
London: Penguin Books, 1991. Print.
Ingen kommentarer:
Legg inn en kommentar