postcolonialism

SCANDINAVIAN-CANADIAN STUDIES/ÉTUDES SCANDINAVES AU CANADAVol. 15 (2005) pp.46-60.
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Title: Foreign Camp Ground: On Translation of Camp and Postcolonial Allusions
Author: Michael Jääskeläinen
Statement of responsibility: Marked up by Patricia Baer Martin Holmes
Marked up to be included in the Scandinavian-Canadian Journal
Source(s): Jääskeläinen, Michael. 2004-2005. Foreign Camp Ground: On Translation of Camp and Postcolonial Allusions. Scandinavian-Canadian Journal / Études scandinaves au Canada 15: 46-60.
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Keywords:
postcolonial allusions
camp
Findley, Timothy
PAB: started markup 11th April 2006
Foreign Camp Ground: On Translation of Camp and Postcolonial Allusions
Michael Jääskeläinen
ABSTRACT: This paper examines the translation of culture-bound allusions from one socio-cultural context into another. The paper focuses on the translation of camp and postcolonial allusions from English into Finnish. The aim is to highlight the significance of these allusions to a literary text, and to examine how the adopted translation strategy affects the meanings and functions of these allusions in a different socio-cultural context. The discussion is illustrated by examples from the novel Not Wanted on the Voyage (1984) by Timothy Findley (1930–2002) and its Finnish translation Suuri tulva (1986) by Hanno Vammelvuo (poetry by Alice Martin). In Findley’s novel, camp and postcolonial allusions play a key role in creating an alternative narrative and voices that resist, parody and reject the existing order of things. This alternative narrative is only accessible to readers who can identify the allusions and understand their meanings.
RÉSUMÉ: Cet article traite de la traduction des allusions culturelles d’un contexte socioculturel à un autre. Il se concentre sur la traduction des allusions homosexuelles (camp) et postcoloniales de l’anglais au finnois. L’objectif est de mettre en lumière la signification de ces allusions dans un texte littéraire et d’observer comment la stratégie de traduction adoptée affecte le sens et les fonctions de ces allusions dans un contexte socioculturel différent. Cette analyse est illustrée par des exemples tirés du roman de Timothy Findley (1930–2002) Not Wanted on the Voyage (1984) et sa traduction finlandaise Suuri tulva (1986) de Hanno Vammelvuo (poésie de Alice Martin). Dans le roman de Findley, les allusions homosexuelles (camp) et postcoloniales ont un rôle clé dans la création d’une narration alternative et de voix qui résistent, parodient et rejètent l’ordre existant des choses. Cette narration alternative n’est accessible qu’aux lecteurs qui peuvent identifier les allusions et comprendre leur signification.
An allusion is an explicit or implicit, often playful reference to another cultural element, which is known to at least some members of the same culture or subculture. Leppihalme (1997) provides a categorization of allusions that divides them into proper-name (PN) allusions and key-phrase (KP) allusions. The former contain a proper name and are references to, for example, fictional and non-fictional characters, places, and titles of literary and other works. The latter ones are phrases that evoke another text or situation and the network of meanings it carries. The reference may be to a work of literature but also to another type of “social text,” such as a commercial slogan, a politician’s famous phrase, an event in history, and so on. Allusions vary considerably, but they are all aimed at producing reader recognition and response to a cultural reference. Therefore, an allusion ceases to function as one if it is not recognized as a reference to another text. Consequently, if the readers of a translated text cannot recognize an allusion, which many readers of the source text would be able to recognize, the result is a reduced meaning.
This paper examines some of the problems involved in translating culture-bound allusions from one socio-cultural context into another. The paper focuses on the translation of camp and postcolonial allusions. The aim is to demonstrate the importance of these allusions to a literary text and to examine the impact of different translation strategies on the meanings and functions of these allusions in the target context. The discussed problems are illustrated by examples drawn from the 1984 novel Not Wanted on the Voyage by Timothy Findley (1930–2002) and its Finnish translation Suuri tulva [The Great Flood] from 1986 by Hanno Vammelvuo (poetry by Alice Martin). The paper contains four sections. Section II presents the background and methodological approach of this paper. Section III provides brief definitions for key concepts. Section IV introduces Findley’s novel and presents an analysis of selected camp and postcolonial allusions as well as their translations. And finally, Section V offers some concluding remarks.
II
The theoretical approach of this paper is mainly descriptive. Translation is here seen as communication that takes place between different socio-cultural systems, which contain semiotic, literary, cultural, and social structures. Moreover, each culture or society is seen as a heterogeneous, open, and dynamic network of systems: a polysystem (Even-Zohar 1990a). In this network of intersecting and partly overlapping systems, literature (which includes the literary institution, authors, translators, readers, as well as texts and translations produced in the culture) forms one system and translated literature its subsystem. Translated literature can have a weaker or stronger position in the polysystem at different times, depending on various cultural and social factors, and this position partly conditions the strategies adopted by translators working within the polysystem (Even-Zohar 1990b). Rather than focusing on source texts, this systemic approach emphasizes the study of target texts and their relationship with the target language and culture.*For an account of descriptive, systemic approaches to translation since the 1970s, see Hermans. An important role in this approach is played by the norms that affect the translation process. Norms are here understood as socio-cultural constraints that are located somewhere between rules and idiosyncrasies (Toury 1995 54).*See also Toury (1998) and the critical responses in the same book. Gideon Toury is a pioneer in the study of translational norms (he began his work on the subject in the late 1970s). Toury divides norms into preliminary, initial and operational. Preliminary norms refer to the “choice of text-types, or even of individual texts” to be translated, as well as attitudes toward translation through a mediating language (1995 58). Initial norms refer to whether the translator adheres to the norms of the source or target culture, the choice resulting in varying degrees of adequacy and acceptability for the translated text (56-57). Operational norms govern the translator’s decisions during the actual translation process (58). Chesterman, on the other hand, talks about expectancy norms and professional norms. Expectancy norms refer to what target text readers expect a translated text to be like. Professional norms are further divided into accountability norms, communication norms, and relation norms, and refer to different factors that influence the actual translation process. In addition, this paper stresses the translator’s role as a mediator of cultural information, an inter-cultural communicator, so to speak.
The presented examples of camp and postcolonial allusions are analyzed in two stages. First, their use and functions in the source text are analyzed by using concepts drawn from literary theory, especially queer theory and postcolonial theory. Ideas applied from both areas include resistance to and subversion of dominant values and discourses. Key ideas applied from the area of queer theory include the constructedness and performativity of gender (Butler 1990, 1993) and camp as queer discourse (Bergman 1993, Meyer). From postcolonial theory, applied concepts include hybrid mimicry or the subversive repetition of existing texts (Bhabha), canonical counter-discourse (Tiffin), and the deconstruction of imperialist discourses, cultural stereotypes, and the representation of the “other” (Said, Hall 1992, 1997).
Second, the translations of the allusions are analyzed by using the strategies categorized by Leppihalme for the translation of allusions. Leppihalme divides the strategies into two groups, according to the type of the allusion.
For proper-name (PN) allusions, she presents three alternative courses of action: retain the name in its source text form (or in its standardized target text form), change the name, or omit it (78–79). The first alternative can be accompanied by additional information (explanation within text or footnote, etc.). The second alternative is to replace the PN allusion with another one in the source culture or with one in the target culture. The third alternative involves two more radical choices: re-create the meaning of the allusive name or omit the allusion altogether.
For translating key-phrase (KP) allusions, Leppihalme offers the following strategies: standard translation (can be applied to an allusion that refers to an object shared by both the source and target culture); minimum change (i.e., a literal translation that ignores the implied meaning of the allusion); extra-allusive guidance (provide additional information as needed); footnote, endnote, translator’s preface; simulated familiarity or internal marking (to signal the presence of an allusion); replacement (by a target culture item); reduction to sense (rephrase the meaning and omit the allusive form); re-creation (construct a new element with similar implications and effect); and omission (1997 84).
In addition to Leppihalme’s work, the analysis draws on Harvey’s study on the translation of camp talk. The translator’s strategies are then considered in light of the current norms governing the translation of allusions in Finland (Leppihalme, Tuominen). However, before looking at the actual allusions and their translations, some key concepts need to be defined.
III
Postcolonial theory is a broad and interdisciplinary approach that combines theories from a number of fields, such as “feminism, philosophy, psychology, politics, anthropology, and literary theory” (McLeod 23). In this paper, the use of the term postcolonialism is limited to a particular type of counter-discourse that subverts, rejects, or deconstructs various forms of colonial or imperial discourse. In the Canadian context, and specifically in the case of Findley’s Not Wanted on the Voyage, the focus is on counter-discourse directed against ideology, discourse, and rhetorics rooted in British imperialism.
Queer theory, like postcolonial theory, is a broad and divergent field of study. It developed from the field of gay studies and especially lesbian studies, which in turn evolved from gender and feminist studies. Queer theory comprises a wide variety of different theoretical approaches, which makes the field difficult to define. Also, any attempt to define queer theory contradicts the goal of queer theory, which is to reject fixed definitions and categorizations. However, the field does have some common starting points. Queer theory sees gender and sexual identity as an ambivalent and unstable construction, which is produced through a repetition of acts (gender performance). Queer theory criticizes heteronormativity and compulsory heterosexuality. It subverts and deconstructs heterosexual (and heterosexist) discourses, categories, and labels, and instead, emphasizes the performativity and discontinuous nature of gender (Butler 1990, 1993). Queer theory distinguishes itself from gay and lesbian studies by defying the idea that gender is somehow fixed, and by offering a voice to people ignored or excluded by gay or lesbian studies, such as bisexuals, transsexuals, transvestites, and sadomasochists (see Beemyn and Eliason 163–168). Again, in this paper the term is used to refer to a type of counter-discourse that challenges or deconstructs heterosexist discourses. One of the means to produce this counter-discourse is the use of camp.
In her 1964 essay, Susan Sontag defined camp as representing an alternative aesthetic value system, which emphasizes taste, style, and artifice (277). According to Sontag, camp sensibility is “disengaged, depoliticized—or at least apolitical” (ibid.). Her specifically apolitical definition of camp has been heavily criticized by queer theorists, who define camp much more politically, as a “solely queer discourse,” which “embodies a specifically queer cultural critique” (Meyer 1), and as a tool for sexual identity politics (Bergman 1993 14–15). Through the use of exaggeration, irony, parody, absurdity, and theatricality (especially representations of a “theatricalized woman”), camp mocks, rejects, and deconstructs prevailing binary categories and labels built on the idea “heterosexuality = normal, natural, healthy behaviour; homosexuality = abnormal, unnatural, sick behaviour” (Babuscio 20).
IV
Not Wanted on the Voyage is a re-telling of the biblical story of the flood. In the novel, Dr. Noah Noyes is depicted as a monster who carries out experiments with kittens and murders deformed children. He has the sole power to interpret reality and to communicate with his god, Yaweh. In Findley’s text, this god is a senile, vengeful old man (the cat Mottyl seriously suspects that Yaweh is in fact a human). In the course of the novel, it becomes gradually evident that Noah’s interpretation of reality serves only his interests. His forced, binary reality marginalizes or excludes all things that defy categorization into either good or evil. The heroes in the novel include Mrs. Noyes, Noah’s gin-sipping wife, her half-blind cat Mottyl, and Lucy, the angel Lucifer dressed as a seven-foot geisha, who later in the novel marries Ham, one of Noah’s sons. These silenced, marginalized, and othered “lower orders” (Not Wanted 302) seek to resist and survive, even subvert, Noah’s dictatorial and oppressive system.
Literary critics have found various approaches to the book. It has been read as a distinctively postcolonial text (Ashcroft et al.) and even as a “Gnostic parable” (Woodcock). Others have found an intertext to the novel in Byron’s Heaven and Earth (Nicholson), Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four (Keith), as well as several other texts.*For a discussion of a number of such intertexts, see Pennee (17-24). Pennee sees the book as a “revisionist novel” that “questions received notions” about gender, power, and social hierarchies, and gives a voice to the silenced and marginalized (14–15). Martell approaches a queer theoretical viewpoint in arguing that in the novel, Findley “addresses the ways in which contemporary society tries desperately to normalize people, social practices, gender, religion, dogma, and exegesis” and continues by saying that “through a radical infusion of Camp elements, Findley not only ironizes social practices, but also criticizes the kinds of binary ideologies that function as filters for exclusivity and inclusion on various coded levels of a social text” (97). Peter Dickinson combines the themes of postcolonial and queer discourse in looking at the novel as a “narrative of both national ambivalence and sexual dissidence” (125). The analysis here will focus on postcolonial and queer counter-discourse manifested in the form of allusions.
The first postcolonial and camp allusions are present on the very first page of the novel, in a postmodern prologue, which starts with a passage from the book of Genesis, describing the boarding of the ark. But then, the first line of Findley’s text reads: “Everyone knows it wasn’t like that,” directly challenging the authority of the canon and “drawing our attention to [Findley’s] text as postmodern metafiction” (Dickinson 129). Findley deconstructs the canonical text by taking it down to the level of a fable, arguing that all texts, including religious and historical ones, are in a sense fictional. Findley’s text continues with the following paragraphs:
To begin with, they make it sound as if there wasn’t any argument; as if there wasn’t any panic—no one being pushed aside—no one being trampled—none of the animals howling—none of the people screaming blue murder. They make it sound as if the only people who wanted to get on board were Doctor Noyes and his family. Presumably, everyone else (the rest of the human race, so to speak) stood off waving gaily, behind a distant barricade: SPECTATORS WILL NOT CROSS THE YELLOW LINE and: THANK YOU FOR YOUR CO-OPERATION. With all the baggage neatly labelled: WANTED or NOT WANTED ON THE VOYAGE.
They also make it sound as if there wasn’t any dread—Noah and his sons relaxed on the poop deck, sipping port and smoking cigars beneath a blue and white striped awning—probably wearing yachting caps, white ducks and blazers. Mrs. Noyes and her daughters-in-law fluttering up the gangplank—neat and tidy—tidy under their umbrellas—turning and calling; “goodbye, everybody.” And all their friends shouting; “bon voyage!” while the daughters-in-law hand over their tickets, smiling and laughing—everyone being piped aboard and a band playing Rule Britannia! and Over the Sea to Skye. Flags and banners and a booming cannon…like an excursion. (Not Wanted 3, original emphasis)
The opening scene is full of allusions to English colonial life. It resembles the departure of an ocean liner: friends “waving gaily” on the shore, Noah and his sons “sipping port and smoking cigars” on the poop deck, “wearing yachting caps, white ducks and blazers.” The passengers are “piped aboard” while a band plays “Rule Britannia!” and “Over the Sea to Skye,” accompanied by “flags and banners and a booming cannon.” This pleasant scene is “like an excursion” of British aristocrats in the nineteenth century. The two pieces of music are explicit allusions to colonialism. The first one, “Rule Britannia!”, alludes to the dominance of the British Empire, especially over the seas, during the nineteenth century. The second, “Over the Sea to Skye,” is an allusion to Prince Charles Edward Stuart, the Young Pretender. In the summer of 1746, his army suffered a crushing defeat against the Duke of Cumberland, but a local young woman, Flora MacDonald, helped him to sail to the Isle of Skye to avoid capture. During this boat trip, the prince assumed the identity of and was dressed up as Betty Burke, Flora’s Irish maid (note the additional allusion to cross-dressing).
In the Finnish translation, the above song titles were translated literally as “Hallitse Britannia!” [Rule Britannia!] and “Skyen pursilaulu” [Skye boat song] without any additional information or guidance about their meaning. If we recall Leppihalme’s three strategies for translating PN allusions, retain, change or omit the source text form, the translator appears to have used the second strategy—change. Within this strategy, the translator chose to replace the names with target language names (and not with other source language names). The first title succeeded in indicating the target of Findley’s subversive text (Great Britain), but failed to imply the more specific object of criticism (colonial/imperial practices, ideology, and so on). In the latter case, the literal translation strategy eliminated the function of the allusion altogether.
As an example of the use of camp in the source text, the character of Lucy, whom Findley later described as a “seven-foot gent in drag,” is the most obvious camp figure (Findley 1990 227). Findley uses the character of Lucy to deconstruct and destabilize binary sexual categories. With her extravagant mannerisms and appearance, Lucy wears a “gown of bronze feathers” (Not Wanted 283) and is “steeped in camp vernacular” (Bailey and Grandy 7). In the novel, her feathers are found by various animal and human characters, which Cecilia Martell sees as an allusion to “dropping [one’s] beads,” or “leav[ing] broad hints about one’s homosexuality” (Martell 104n4, quoting Bergman 1991 110). At one point, Mrs. Noyes asks Lucy about her height, and she answers “seven-foot-five: and every inch a queen” (Not Wanted 249). The answer alludes to the well-known concept of a drag queen, a man dressed and posing as a woman. However, in the Finnish translation, the word queen is translated literally as kuningatar [queen], which does not carry the allusion to a drag queen. Lucy’s speech is full of camp exaggeration and playfulness, as the following excerpts from her discussion with Michael Archangelis indicates. Michael has just slain a dragon, which he hoped to be Lucifer in disguise.
“Wonderful scene,” she said. “Very nice try, ducky. I suppose you thought that Dragon was me. But it wasn’t and it ain’t.”…“How very disappointing,” said Lucy. “A sort of double disappointment for you, Michael, my love. Not me and not anybody. Too bad. Better luck next time.”…“What do you hope to accomplish by all this?” Michael asked.“All what?” Lucy shook out her frail skirts and lifted her hand to her hair.“Well—dressing as a woman to begin with. And a foreigner.”“Nothing wrong with dressing as a woman. Might as well be a woman as anything else. And what, may one ask, do you mean by ‘a foreigner’?”“Someone not of these parts,” said Michael, as if he was quoting from a book of rules for border guards.“The slanted eyes, et cetera? The black, black hair – the white, white face? You don’t like it? I love.”(Not Wanted 106–107, original emphasis)
“Loistava esitys”, Lucy sanoi. “Oikein hieno yritys, poju. Luullakseni sinä oletit että tuo Lohikäärme olin minä. Mutta se ei ollut eikä ole.”…“Mikä pettymys”, sanoi Lucy. “Eräänlainen kaksinkertainen pettymys sinulle, Michael kultaseni. Ei minua eikä ketään. Voi voi. Parempaa onnea ensi kerralla.”…“Mitä luulet saavasi aikaan kaikella tällä?” kysyi Michael.“Kaikella millä?” Lucy ravisteli hauraita helmojaan ja kohensi kädellään hiuksiaan.“No, ensinnäkin pukeutumalla naiseksi. Ja muukalaiseksi.”“Mitä vikaa siinä on, että pukeutuu naiseksi. Yhtä hyvin naiseksi kuin miksikään muuksi. Ja saanko tiedustella, mitä sinä tarkoitat ’muukalaisella’?”“Joku paikkakunnan ulkopuolinen” sanoi Michael ikään kuin olisi siteerannut rajavartioiden ohjekirjaa.“Vinot silmät ja niin edelleen? Mustaakin mustemmat hiukset – valkoistakin valkoisemmat kasvot? Etkö pidä niistä? Minä rakastan niitä.” (Suuri tulva 126–127, original emphasis)
[ “Splendid scene,” Lucy said. “Very nice try, sonny. I suppose you thought that Dragon was me. But it wasn’t and it isn’t.”…“What a disappointment,” said Lucy. “A sort of double disappointment for you, Michael, my dear. Not me and not anybody. Dear dear. Better luck next time.” …“What do you expect to accomplish by all this?” asked Michael.“All what? Lucy shook her frail skirts and adjusted her hair with her hand.“Well, first of all, by dressing as a woman. And a foreigner.”“What is wrong with dressing as a woman. Just as well a woman as anything else. And may I enquire, what do you mean by ‘a foreigner’?”“Someone from outside this locality” said Michael as if he was quoting from a book of rules for border guards.“The slanted eyes, et cetera? Hair blacker than black – face whiter than white? You don’t like them? I love them.”] (Gloss by Michael Jääskeläinen) The elements that draw our attention are Lucy’s mannerisms and camp-like use of adjectives and verbs typical of feminine language. The phrase and what, may one ask presents a case of intentional register mixing, something that “verbal camp typically delights in” (Harvey 301). Its purpose is to parody accepted norms of discourse. In addition, words are stressed (wonderful, love in italics) or repeated (white, white and black, black) to create additional emphasis. This is also typical of camp talk. Harvey talks about the “empathics of camp,” which are used to produce a “theatricalized woman.” The process involves the use of exclamations (such as oh my, oh dear), hyperbole, and typically feminine adjectives (299). This argument is also supported by Peter Dickinson, who (in discussing this particular passage) says that the “exaggerated emphasis of certain words (‘Wonderful scene,’ ‘I love’), the linguistic repetition (“black, black hair,” “white, white face”), and the use of epicene epithets and pronouns (“ducky,” “may one ask?”) are stylistic or syntactical elements of what we may call a particular camp rhetoric” (137).
Many of the camp elements in Lucy’s speech and mannerisms are lost in the translation. An exception to the loss of campness is the register mixing in the phrase “Ja saanko tiedustella” [and may I inquire]. Lucy’s emphasized use of typically feminine words, such as wonderful and love have become loistava [splendid, brilliant] and rakastan [love], both in italics. Although the typographical emphasis is maintained and the actual words are perfect translations of the source text words, their meanings are reduced. In Finnish, the adjective loistava [splendid] does not carry quite the same connotations as the English word wonderful and the Finnish word remains gender-neutral. Also the sentence “Minä rakastan niitä” [I love them], for the source text “I love,” seems to have a slightly different meaning. In the source text, Lucy’s emphasized use of the word love has a clearly camp sense of exaggerated and theatrical feminine language. In Finnish, the use of the word rakastan does not have the same effect. The verb rakastaa [to love] is used less profusely in Finnish than in English. The camp exaggeration is also partially lost in Lucy’s repetitive use of adjectives, when “the black, black hair—the white, white face” become in the target text “mustaakin mustemmat hiukset – valkoistakin valkoisemmat kasvot” [hair blacker than black—face whiter than white].
Another “campy” character in the novel is Japeth, Noah’s youngest son, who is depicted as a “sexual ignoramus and a virgin to boot” (Not Wanted 77). To correct this situation, Japeth heads out to “find his manhood once and for all” and return home to conquer his young wife’s virginity (Not Wanted 23). Instead, on the road to Baal and Mammon (an allusion to Sodom and Gomorrah) Japeth goes through an allegorical “awakening and denial” of homosexuality, perhaps even sadomasochism, as he is captured, marinated, and nearly eaten by the Ruffian King and his foul crew (Dickinson 136). Japeth returns home with his body permanently coloured blue by the marinade. The colouring is an allusion to Thomas Gainsborough’s feminine painting Blue Boy from 1770, but also to “one of the oldest magazines of gay male pornography, which goes by the same name” (ibid). “Turning blue” is also an allusion to “coming out” or announcing one’s homosexuality.*See, for example, Am I Blue? : Coming Out from the Silence, a collection of short stories about adolescence and homosexuality edited by Marion Dane Bauer. Lorraine York (210–211) notes that this passage has an intertext in Findley’s other novel, The Butterfly Plague: “Once, I did turn blue and I was very ill and had to be put in an oxygen tent and treated by many, many doctors” (307). Japeth’s “turning blue” or becoming homosexual is also recognized and discussed by animals, as Mottyl the cat inquires from Bip the lemur whether he has “heard about Japeth.” Bip answers affirmatively and continues with: “Blue, is he?” (Not Wanted 45). Japeth is treated differently (in fact, he is metaphorically “put in an oxygen tent”) because of his new skin colour (or sexual outlook), as “his wife wouldn’t sleep with him; his father wouldn’t honour him; his friends all laughed at him and his mother made him sit all day in a tub of lye, while screaming ‘scrub! scrub! scrub!!’” (Not Wanted 16). Japeth is ashamed of his blueness, which denies him the manliness he seeks: “It’s because I’m blue…and that isn’t fair! I didn’t ask to be blue” (Not Wanted 16). If we now return to the prologue of the novel, the phrase blue murder gains a whole new meaning. It can be read to allude to the exclusion (and in this case extermination) of all people with non-heterosexual preferences. They, or everyone else, are left onshore to wave “gaily” at the departing ark, from “behind a distant barricade.”
In the target text, the allusion to homosexuality in “blue murder” has been omitted, and “waving gaily” has been translated as “heiluttivat iloisesti” [waved happily]. The omission of the first allusion removes the alluded message but also some of the “campness,” or exaggeration and absurdity from the entire scene. The second allusion is eliminated because the literal translation turns it from a campy allusion to a phrase that carries no sexual implications.
In the discussion between Mottyl and Bip concerning Japeth’s new (blue) condition, Bip’s reply is translated as “Hän on siis sininen, niinkö?” [So, he is blue, is that right?]. While the translation describes Japeth’s physical colour perfectly, it fails to reconstruct the allusion to homosexuality that “turning blue” carries. The same applies to all occasions in which Japeth’s “blueness” is discussed in the novel. For example, Japeth’s social exclusion because of his sexual preference is not alluded to in the target text. His desperate complaint about the unfair treatment he receives in the Noyes household is translated as follows:
“Tämä johtuu siitä, että olen sininen”, sanoi Jaafet. “Ja se ei ole reilua! Enhän minä halunnut tulla siniseksi.” (Suuri tulva 25)
[“It’s because I’m blue,” said Japeth. “And that isn’t fair! But I didn’t want to become blue.”] (Gloss by Michael Jääskeläinen)
In the above sample, the target text “I didn’t ask to be blue” has been translated as “Enhän minä halunnut tulla siniseksi” [But I didn’t want to become blue]. The target text statement indicates that Japeth did not want to become blue, while the source text only stated that his becoming “blue” was not a matter of choice, but something unavoidable and inborn. Thus, the allusion to homosexuality is lost in the translation. In fact, since Japeth’s homosexuality is mainly alluded to through his “turning blue” in the source text, the issue of his homosexuality becomes obscure in the target text.
In her study on the translation of allusions from English into Finnish, Ritva Leppihalme notes that while the majority of the translators interviewed in the study considered themselves as cultural mediators and had a generally positive attitude toward providing additional information to convey unfamiliar items, they in fact “found little use for guidance” in the translations examined in the study (92). Instead, the study showed that the predominant strategy for the translation of allusions was that of minimum change: “retention of the name as such for PNs and minimum change for KPs” (102).*For a discussion on the possible reasons for the predominance of this strategy, see Leppihalme (102-104). The reader-response survey conducted in connection with the study showed that this strategy frequently led to “culture bumps,” or translations that are “puzzling or impenetrable from the target-text reader’s point of view” (197). A more recent study on the translation of allusions (also from English into Finnish) showed the same prevalence in the use of minimum change strategies and that target-text readers had difficulties in understanding the meaning of the allusions (Tuominen).*Tuominen’s study also indicated that although Finnish readers are somewhat used to encountering foreign elements in translated literature and indeed expect to find them in such texts, failure to understand the meaning of the allusions in a text reduced its overall richness and in some cases resulted in negative attitudes toward the text (Tuominen 88-92). The translation of camp and postcolonial allusions in Not Wanted on the Voyage would seem to comply with this tendency, which appears to be the norm in Finland with regard to the translation of allusions.
In his article, Harvey stresses the cultural embeddedness of camp discourse. He argues that translator should be familiar not only with the “comparable resources of camp in source and target language cultures” but also the “functions that camp performs in its diverse contexts” (295). His examination of translated camp discourse seems to suggest that creative translation strategies (as opposed to literal or minimum change strategies) may be called for to render the functions of camp in another cultural context. I would argue that this also applies to culture-bound postcolonial allusions.
V
This paper has discussed some of the problems involved in translating camp and postcolonial allusions from one socio-cultural context into another. With a few examples I have tried to demonstrate that these allusions contribute significantly to the overall effect of Findley’s novel. The examples were limited to a few micro-level allusions that proved particularly problematic. My analyses indicated that some or all of their functions were not rendered in the Finnish translation. However, the translator’s strategies seem to comply with current translational practices in Finland (i.e. the use of minimum change strategies). But in the case of the examined allusions, the strategy of minimum change proved to be less successful in conveying the networks of meaning that these allusions carried, and in fact resulted in a reduced meaning. It would appear that in this particular case, the translation of these allusions complies with Toury’s law of growing standardization (267–274), according to which the textual relations of a source text tend to get modified or even totally ignored in favour of more habitual target language options. The results of this study seem to support the findings of the two studies referred to in this article (Leppihalme, Tuominen ). This raises some important questions. Do the meanings and functions of culture-bound allusions have a general tendency of being reduced when translated from English into Finnish, and if so, why? Does the same tendency apply to translations from other languages into Finnish? What about translations from Finnish into English or other languages? Is the tendency limited to the Finnish context or are we dealing with a more universal phenomenon? These questions, while obviously far beyond the scope of this paper, deserve more attention and study.
REFERENCES
Ashcroft, Bill, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin, eds. 1989. The Empire Writes Back: Theory and Practice in Postcolonial Literatures. London: Routledge.
Babuscio, Jack. 1993. Camp and the Gay Sensibility. Camp Grounds: Style and Homosexuality. Ed. David Bergman. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. 157-196.
Bailey, Anne Geddes, and Karen Grandy. 1998. Introduction. Essays on Canadian Writing 64 [Summer]: 1–9.
Bauer, Marion Dane. 1994. Am I Blue? : Coming Out from the Silence. New York: Harper Collins.
Beemyn, Brett, and Mickey Eliason, eds. 1996. Queer Studies: A Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Anthology. New York: New York University Press.
Bergman, David. 1956. Gaiety Transfigured: Gay Self-Representation in American Literature. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.
—. 1993. Introduction. Camp Grounds: Style and Homosexuality. Ed. David Bergman. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press. 3–16.
Bhabha, Homi. 1994. Location of Culture. London: Routledge.
Butler, Judith. 1990. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Gender. London: Routledge.
—. 1993. Bodies That Matter: On the Discursive Limits of “Sex”. London: Routledge.
Chesterman, Andrew. 1997. Memes of Translation. The Spread of Ideas in Translation Theory. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.
Dickinson, Peter. 1998. ‘Running Wilde’: National Ambivalence and Sexual Dissidence in Not Wanted on the Voyage. Essays on Canadian Writing 64 [Summer]: 125–146.
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—. 1990b. The Position of Translated Literature within the Literary Polysystem. Poetics Today 11, no. 1: 45–51. Also available online at http://www.tau.ac.il/~itamarez/ps/polysystem.html
Findley, Timothy. 1969. The Butterfly Plague. New York: Viking Press. Rpt. Toronto: Penguin 1986.
—. 1984. Not Wanted on the Voyage. New York: Delacorte Press. Rpt. Toronto: Penguin 1985.
—. 1986. Suuri tulva. Trans. Vammelvuo, Hanno. Jyväskylä: Gummerus.
Hall, Stuart. 1992. The West and the Rest: Discourse and Power. Formations of Modernity. Ed. Stuart Hall and Bram Gieben. Cambridge: Polity Press.
—. 1997. The Spectacle of the ‘Other’. Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices. Ed. Stuart Hall. London: Sage.
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hibridity
Hybridity
The idea of nation is often based on naturalised myths of racial or cultural origin. Asserting such myths was a very important part of the imperial process and therefore an important feature of much imperial writing and indeed postcolonial writing. The need for commonality of thought to encourage resistance became a feature of many of the first postcolonial novels. Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart is an example of a novel dealing with the collective resistance to imperialism. More recently we have become aware of how problematic such accounts are. The simple binaries that made up imperial and postcolonial studies have in some way become redundant with regard to later literature. As Mudrooroo has said of the Aborigine's , they were a tribe like any other, susceptible to change and influence from outside forces. He says; “the Aboriginal writer is a Janus-type figure with a face turned to the past and the other to the future while existing in a postmodern, multi cultural Australia in which he or she must fight for cultural space”. [1] So in a sense Mudrooroo embraces his hybridised position not as a “badge of failure or denigration, but as a part of the contestational weave of cultures ”. [2]

One of the most disputed terms in postcolonial studies, ‘hybridity' commonly refers to “the creation of new transcultural forms within the contact zone produced by colonisation.” [3] Hybridisation takes many forms including cultural, political and linguistic. Pidgin and Creole are linguistic examples. Within languages there can also be evidence of ‘linguistic cross breeding' and the use of loan words from either the language of the coloniser or the colonised. Examples can be seen in Swahili, Aborigine and Irish. The coloniser's language cannot escape and one sees the many loan words in the English language today. In Ireland for example, there are many sayings and words in English that an English man or woman would not understand. For example the use of the word ‘amadan' meaning ‘fool'. Labeled Hiberno-English, it is a typical example of linguistic hybridisation.
Robert Young a widely written commentator on imperialism and postcolonialism, has remarked on the negativity sometimes associated with the term hybridity. He notes how it was influential in imperial and colonial discourse in giving damaging reports on the union of different races. Young would argue that at the turn of the century, ‘hybridity' had become part of a colonialist discourse of racism. In Jean Rhys ' Wide Sargasso Sea , to be a Creole or a ‘hybrid' was essentially negative. They were reported in the book as lazy and the dangers of such hybrids inevitably reverting to their ‘primitive' traditions is highlighted throughout the novel. In reading Young alongside Rhys, it becomes easy to see the negative connotations that the term once had.
However, the crossover inherent in the imperial experience is essentially a two-way process. According to Ashcroft most postcolonial writing has focused on the hybridised nature of postcolonial culture as a strength rather than a weakness. It is not a case of the oppressor obliterating the oppressed or the coloniser silencing the colonised. In practice it stresses the mutuality of the process. The clash of cultures can impact as much upon the coloniser as the colonised. In reading Juanita Carberry , the daughter of a settler in the White Valley region in Kenya, one gets a taste of the hybridised nature of her childhood and her life. Growing up a Swahili speaker and playing with the wild animals against her father's wishes, her experience was essentially more African than English. [4] It is proof that even under the most potent of oppression, that distinctive aspects of the culture of the oppressed can survive and become an integral part of the new formations which arise. Ashcroft says how “hybridity and the power it releases may well be seen as the characteristic feature and contribution of the post-colonial, allowing a means of evading the replication of the binary categories of the past and developing new anti-monolithic models of cultural exchange and growth”. [5] The term hybridity has been most recently associated with Homi Bhabha . In his piece entitled ‘Cultural Diversity and Cultural Differences', Bhaba stresses the interdependence of coloniser and colonised. Bhabha argues that all cultural systems and statements are constructed in what he calls the ‘Third Space of Enunciation'. [6] In accepting this argument, we begin to understand why claims to the inherent purity and originality of cultures are ‘untenable'. Bhaba urges us into this space in an effort to open up the notion of an inter national culture “not based on exoticism or multi-culturalism of the diversity of cultures, but on the inscription and articulation of culture's hybridity. ” [7] In bringing this to the next stage, Bhabha hopes that it is in this space “that we will find those words with which we can speak of Ourselves and Others. And by exploring this ‘Third Space', we may elude the politics of polarity and emerge as the others of ourselves”. [8] So as Mudrooroo suggests, embracing the hybridised nature of cultures steers us away from the problematic binarisms that have until now framed our notions of culture.

Indian Anglophony, Diasporan Polycentricism, and Postcolonial Futures
Before I come to my main argument, let me propose a slightly different way of classifying the world of the colonizers and the colonized. Such a re-classification has bearing, I believe, not only on the question of centres and peripheries, but also on diasporic creativity. The colonial encounter was not just a clash of political and economic regimes, of civilizations, of different ways of apprehending the world, of two or more epistemological and representational styles, but also, for the purposes of my project, of monolingualisms and multilingualisms. Not just centres and peripheries, metropoles and colonies, collaborative and resistant colonial cultures were produced by these encounters, but also cultures that can be differentiated as being monologic or dialogic, uniglot or polyglot, unisonic or polyphonic, orthoglossic or heteroglossic. Though the Manichean cultural economy of colonialism and neo-colonialism, in a way, ensures that these encounters continue to be framed in binary or oppositional terms, we, however, know that the situation on the ground is much more complex. For the time being, though, I should like to retain this distinction between monolingual and multilingual cultures because it suggests a crucial area of difference which I find useful.
I would argue that colonialism, modernity, capitalism, indeed the various interlocking systems of power, oppression, and exploitation that were brought to bear upon subject peoples might be construed as a series of mutually reinforcing and supportive monolingualisms. The cultures that received them, in this case the various regions of India, were, in contrast, constituted by interlocking sets of *multilingualisms. When these two structures collided, then, newer kinds of cultural systems were produced. English, for instance, became the dominant cultural mono-system in the colonies, a sort of centre of power, even though it was a different kind of English. An English that eventually, as Raja Rao says, was meant to "convey in a language not one's own the spirit that is one's own" (Kanthapura 5). This English, although already transformed through carrying the burden of native tongues, was nevertheless a cultural system at odds with those of the other native tongues of India, which it peripheralized. Thus, I would like to distinguish not only between various kinds of English, but also between English and non-English signifying systems. I would suggest that in the Indian context, language is a space, a worldview, a 'destiNation'. Of course, by language I mean the whole complex signifying and mediating terrain through which Indian realities are translated and interpreted. Thus, linguistic positions, not just historical or geographical, caste, or gender, locations are important determinants in the problematic of representing India which is at the heart of several postcolonial debates today. What I thus propose to do is to look at the question of centres and peripheries through this notion of language as place.
To illustrate, I shall briefly review a well-known text produced by a diasporic filmmaker: Deepa Mehta's feature film, Fire (1996). Not just the choice of the film but the choice of the episode might be suggestive of my larger method. I choose this film because I think it is as good a representative as any of what may be called, after Sara Suleri, "the rhetoric of English India," or, to use an even better phrase from my friend Rakesh Bhatt's work, India as an "English-sacred" imagined community (76-78). In what follows, I shall endeavour to interrogate the cultural politics of this English-sacred India. The episode that I shall invoke is, as you will see, very 'minor', even insignificant, to the plot and theme of the film, but is crucial to its representational grammar. If read in a certain way, it opens up the whole complex range of concerns that govern both cultural production and reception, especially the manner in which the tensions and contradictions between what might be termed location and locution are played out.
The scene in question is a thirty-second conversation between Mundu, the servant, and an anonymous milkman. The milkman greets Mundu; Mundu asks for two litres of milk (instead of one) because it is the karva chauth festival; the milkman tells Mundu that Mundu looks weak; Mundu retorts by asking him to stop adding water to the milk. The conversation is totally marginal to the central action or theme of the film, but in its very careless, almost absent-minded retention in the film, exposes a major fault line in its mimetic logic. I would like to think of it as the inadvertent slip in which the rhetoric of English India betrays itself. For the extraordinary thing about this conversation is precisely what might have been most natural outside the film, say in the daily interaction between servants and milkmen in Delhi, is rendered odd and sharply foregrounded in the careful viewer's attention. And this special feature has to do with the medium of the exchange, not its content. This is the only bit of dialogue in the otherwise English film that takes place in Hindi. In other words, this is the sole occasion in which any two people speak to each other in an Indian language. Otherwise, everyone in Fire – Radha, Ashok, Sita, Jatin, Ashok's Guru, and even the servant Mundu, speak only in English.
What do those few lines of dialogue in Hindi signify in a film which entirely in English? What questions do they raise about the production and consumption, the source and the target, the content and form, of images of India? The likely answer is that English, the language the characters speak in, is supposed to stand in for Hindi. As members of a middle-class, business family in one of Delhi's modest neighbourhoods, Lajpat Nagar, the characters would normally speak Hindi. However, since the film is in English, it is the language superimposed on the dialogue. In other words, both the actors and the audience are expected to imagine that Hindi is in fact spoken when hearing the characters speak English.
This metonymic substitution is also suggested by several other devices in the film. For instance, the use of different accents, plus other linguistic signals such as translation, code-switching, code-mixing, use of collocations, norm-deviant syntax, diction, and so on, further reinforce the idea that the speakers are not monolingual. So we might say that the film only asks us, as indeed does all art, to suspend our disbelief in its own particular way and thereby to comply with the director's directive to imagine Hindi being spoken when listening to the English dialogue.
But is the problem this simple? What do we make of the dialogue the dialogue between Jatin and his Chinese girlfriend, or between the latter's father and Jatin? It is clear in the film that they speak English. This raises the interesting question: when does English stand for Hindi, and when is it merely itself? The filmmaker, unfortunately, does not help us by clearly signalling when the shifts are supposed to occur, nor does she make any attempt to offer us different varieties of English, apart from the various accents that I have already noted, that may suggest different social or linguistic registers. I would argue that the problem of the cultural and linguistic dissonance that I have identified is compounded by the fact that Radha and Sita, both shown to be suppressed and traditional wives, speak in a more Anglicised accent than Ashok, the husband. In Jatin, the same Anglicised accent serves to emphasize his modern ways as opposed to his brother's, but in Radha's and Sita's cases, the incongruity of oppressed, house and tradition-bound behenjis1 speaking like foreign-returned or convent-educated memsahibs is not lost on an audience that would instantly associate that kind of accent with a class that is exclusive and powerful, not powerless and oppressed – at least in India.
For someone who is otherwise quite self-conscious about her artistic intentions, Mehta is rather nonchalant about her choice of English. In her note on the official DVD "Why Fire is in English" she says,
I am a victim of post-colonized India. The medium of my education was English. In fact, not unlike many children of middle-class parents, English was my first language and Hindi, my second. I wrote the script of Fire in English, a language I am totally at ease with. … I thought about translating Fire into Hindi, but more for the Western audience rather than the Indian one. Western audiences find a 'foreign' film easier to imbibe, easier to accept in its cultural context, if it is in its indigenous language. 'A foreign film can only be a foreign film if it is in a foreign language.' And if it isn't then somehow it is judged (albeit subconsciously), as a Western film disguised as a foreign one…. Well, how to explain to people in the West that most middle-class Indians speak Hinglish?
This is quite an extraordinary statement from the writer-director that helps to squarely place the film – quite contrary to Mehta's professed intentions – as an Indian film to (western) foreigners and as a foreign film to Indians. That Mehta is concerned throughout this statement with how westerners will read her film is all the more evidence for the fact that she never once thought of how Indians would see it. Instead of producing the instant identification that she expected and took so much for granted, the same middle class organized protests against her film. The use of English as the medium for her film, far from being natural or unproblematic as Mehta had assumed, actually estranged her from her material. Had Mehta done the opposite, that is, translated the script into Hindi, I am sure the film would have been different – it would have been foreign to western audiences not only on account of its language, and been received as being Indian by Indians. What Mehta has created is not the western film disguised as a foreign film as she had feared, but a foreign film disguised as an Indian one. Whereas foreign and western for her are contrasting categories, to Indians they are synonymous.
An opposite example of what I have just described can be found in the films of Dev Benegal, another very talented young Indian English film maker. In English August, for example, adapted from the novel by Upamanyu Chatterjee, Benegal, who co-wrote the script with Chatterjee, ensured that several languages were spoken and heard in the film. The novel itself exploits a mixed Hindi-English idiom of sorts, but apart from such hybridity, which is by now rather commonplace in Indian English texts, English August is a book written entirely in English. In it, Hindi and Bangla are languages referred to, but never heard in the book, except through their distant echoes in English. The novel is set mostly in Madna, a fictional territory supposedly somewhere in Central India, and the language spoken there is supposedly Hindi. In the film, Madna is in Andhra Pradesh, and when Agastya, the protagonist, moves there, we begin to hear Telugu spoken pretty regularly, and there are, of course, English subtitles to help out non-native speakers. In addition, one of the characters, Sathe, occasionally breaks into Marathi. The Collector, Mr. Srivastava, is shown to be a Hindi speaker; among the government officers, then, not just English, but Hindi is spoken routinely, too. The film thus possesses a linguistic texture that is even more complex than the book, which had in the first place presented a diaglossic, polyglot English. Unlike Fire, which flattens the linguistic complexity of India, the film English August actually augments it by vernacularizing the original Indian English text.
The way the two films Fire and English, August, use language is, of course, symbolic of their larger representational politics. What can offer more of a contrast to anglophone diasporic 'elite' cinema than a production from Bollywood? I would like to cite a film with a strikingly similar motif: Raj Kumar Santoshi's Lajja. Although structured as a typical blockbuster, the film manages to make some fairly bold statements on behalf of women. The film vernacularizes English which, along with computers and modern education, is seen as the carrier of modern values. Beginning and ending in New York, it suggests both continuities and discontinuities between the diaspora and the homeland in a manner which is at once critical and sophisticated, while retaining elements of the conventional and stereotypical. There are four 'Sitas' in the film, each with her own struggle against patriarchal norms. The women are neither defeminized nor turned into avenging angels, nor forced to turn lesbian as in Fire, but each is shown to resist a major aspect of oppressive tradition. The film is not only a powerful satire on the double standards and economic cruelties of arranged marriages, but it also questions several patriarchal assumption about a woman's place in a male-dominated society. Some examples include the idea that women must be faithful, but men can play around; or that a woman, whose betrothed leaves her just before they are take their vows, stands disgraced; or that it is the groom's right to receive dowry; or that women who are educated will not find good husbands; and so on. Throughout the film, the agency and the worth of women are emphasized, sometimes in predictable and at other times in unusual ways. Control over one's own biology, sexual and reproductive freedom, female desire rather than male control, and liberation from caste oppression are all portrayed in the film. In one of its most effective scenes, the main character, Janaki, rewrites the famous agnipariksha scene of the Ramayan. Santoshi's Janaki boldly departs from the traditional script reserved for Sita, not only by blaming Lakshmana for disfiguring Shurpanakha and thus inviting the enmity of Ravana, but also by asking Ram to join her in the agnipariksha. Since he has been separated from her during her period of abduction, it stands to reason that he, too, should be asked to prove his chastity. To the best of my knowledge, this is the first time that such a question has been asked in any re-enactment of the many of versions of the Ramayana, not only on celluloid, but in any other medium. In the film, the irate audience sets fire to the theatre. Janaki thus endures her own agnipariksha as the actress who had dared to rewrite the script of the Ramayana.
I mention this because Fire, indeed the title of the film itself, makes much of this episode and its symbolic significance. What is more interesting to me, however, is that the reaction anticipated by Santoshi in the film was not replicated by Indian audiences. The same audiences that reacted so violently to Mehta's film accepted the rescripting of tradition that Santoshi offered. One explanation could be that Santoshi's film was not, after all, really radical. Like all Bollywood masala films, it both violated and reaffirmed social norms. How could a film designed to titillate, to offer an escape from reality through the feminist political fantasy of women's emancipation, be revolutionary? In contrast, it may be argued that Mehta's film had the ability really to shock and shake the bastions of Indian patriarchy and get the fundamentalists out on the street baying for her blood. But one might argue, on the contrary, that it is Mehta's film which is sensational, insulting, and deliberately injurious. That Mehta should have used all the controversy Fire generated to sell the film should not be surprising, even though in "Why Fire is in English" Mehta is quick to point out her dismay at the reaction to her film. Every DVD of the film makes a virtue of this controversy: there is a whole section highlighting the outrage that the film generated as part of the Director's Notes; in addition, there are interviews with the stars of the film and a full feature on how Indian women are oppressed by tradition. This propaganda, of course, also fits into the neat anti-Hindutva political agenda to which the film offers itself for easy assimilation, thereby ensuring its continued currency among the ever-widening circles of the politically correct postcolonials the world over.
Mehta frames her problematic in classical modernist/feminist terms as "the extremely dramatic battle that is waged daily between the forces of tradition and the desire for an independent, individual voice" (Mehta, "Director's Notes"). She also contrasts her own supposedly serious and interventionist cinema with the entertainment factory that is Bollywood, which turns women into vacuous objects of fantasy and desire. There is a kind of supercilious claim to superior cognition made here in implying that Bollywood blockbusters serve up a variety of visual popcorn while it is to Mehta and her kind that we must turn if we wish to have a better insight into Indian 'reality'. Ironically, Bollywood is used as a trope throughout the film, not only to show its pervasive influence on the life of the characters, but as a romantic counterpoint to the drudgery of their daily lives. Jatin not only runs a video parlour, but his Chinese girl-friend wants to be a film star in Hong Kong; Sita dances to Hindi film music, and acts out her fantasies, in full costume, to the accompaniment of an old Hemant Kumar-Lata Mangeshkar duet with Radha. Analogously, A. R. Rahman's score uses his own hit songs as background music to the film: Mehta's attitude is thus characterized by the peculiar paradox of a parasitic appropriation of Bollywood combined with an utter contempt for its ethos. Though I would not venture to valorise Bombay cinema ideologically or politically, Mehta's deliberately reductive accusation against it does it an injustice. Mehta simply disregards the complexity of popular cinema in India, which must, at one and the same time, respond to multiple and contradictory ideological, aesthetic, thematic, and commercial, compulsions. Contrary to Mehta's assertions, these compulsions and complexities actually make the Bombay films not just highly intelligent and sophisticated, but also multilingual, multidimensional, multilayered, and multistoried, in ways that Mehta does not even consider. In fact, one might even argue that Bollywood cinema has always had a progressive dimension to it, whether it is on questions of Hindu-Muslim relations or the status of the lower castes and women. This evolutionary and reformist dimension of popular cinema cannot be rejected in the name of a 'purer', more radical or politically engaged, rhetoric of art cinema.
Eleanor Hall, the narrator of the propaganda clip that accompanies the feature film on the Fire DVD, reinforces the dismissiveness Mehta displays towards the popular taste of Indians who watch Bombay films. She takes us to the set of one such film during the shooting of a song and dance sequence, and then quite contemptuously describes Bollywood as not only "India's entertainment factory" but as "the keeper of Hindu culture as well." Precisely. Mainstream Hindu culture, if we are to go by films like Lajja, knows how to revise its own texts in ways which are different from those sanctioned by monolingual modernity. But to dismiss these internal corrections and revisions, and to brand the whole community as somehow delinquent and "fundamentalist" shows another sort of intolerance, an intolerance which has also contributed to the polarization of discursive space. In other words, secular modernity, not just Hindu fanaticism, contributes to violence and intolerance. In their own peculiar ways, both are monocultures which block heteroglossia and pluralism.
I have been suggesting that Lajja may be construed as presenting a special kind of critique not just of tradition, but of diasporic Anglophony. Its polycentric and polyphonic multilingualized Hindustani contrasts with the stilted Anglophile monolingualism of Fire. That is why even its critique of Hinduism, though radical and far-reaching, is nonetheless not hostile to certain non-negotiable elements of the very tradition that it seeks to reform. To that extent, it is an attempt at re-engineering Indian society from within. The plurality of its mimetic styles, its internal contradictions and ideological confusions notwithstanding, Lajja manages to delineate the complexity and multiversity of Indian society in transition. Fire, on the other hand, is a monolingual discursive infliction that can be seen as foreign and interfering. Consequently, its cultural politics is divisive and, ultimately, counter-productive. In demonizing tradition, it desecrates and insults what it wishes to change. That is why I cannot endorse Mehta's "mimetic logic" in this film, even if some parts of it move me deeply. Mehta, I must acknowledge, has moved on. Her next film, Earth, mixes Indian languages much more adventurously and effectively. Traditions are both sacred and profane; they are subject to change, but I would resist any attempt to dismiss them by distorting them. I shall therefore be so bold as to say that that is the reason why such 'hard' versions of secularism and modernity have failed in India.
What I have been trying to propose is that the centre/periphery dichotomy is not just territorial, economic, or cultural, but also linguistic. Furthermore, that linguistic centres and peripheries operate both within and across geographical and national boundaries, thereby complicating the representational terrain in ways which conventional Anglocentric criticism fails to recognize. I suggest that by foregrounding the conflict between Anglo-centric monoculturalism, which peripheralizes all other linguistic spaces and locations, and alternative ways of representing postcolonial realities, we might open up radical spaces for criticism and social change that have the potential not just of redefining curricula, but of redrawing academic maps. What is more, neither monolingualism nor multilingualism need to be interpreted in solely literal terms; they may be seen to stand for two different cultural and representational systems. That these are overlapping and (op)positional rather than rigid, mutually exclusive binaries goes without saying.
It should be obvious at this point of my argument that the centre-periphery model, even when it is reversed, is ultimately inadequate to understanding the nature of cultural flows and interactions in the contemporary world. At the very least we need to theorize multiple centres and multiple peripheries in order to account for the nature of cultural exchanges today. If this is granted, it follows that diasporan imaginaries are constructed in terms of multiple and shifting notions of 'homeland' and 'domicile', which are realized through overlapping and contradictory narratives of longing/belonging. While this can be obvious, the question to be asked is whether some heuristic benefit might be derived from a binary between 'centres' and 'peripheries', especially when they are reversed.rvc I have just proposed that using languages as locations is one way of re-framing the centre-periphery dialectic so as to give it a new salience. I shall now suggest that the way out of what would otherwise be a perpetually reinforced binary of domination-subordination is to use translation and multilingualism as strategies for promoting cultural difference and countering cross-cultural inequalities. Postcolonial futures need to resist both domination and subordination, by marking out areas of hope and cooperation and constructing alternatives. To that extent the centre-periphery model may remain useful in that it underscores relations of inequality between agents scattered all over the world, but integrated into a global system of exchange and domination.
In approaching my conclusion, I would like to spell out my central thesis once again. I have tried to juxtapose Indian English, that is, not just the language, but its entire range of literary and cultural production, with its con-texts: I use this word in the sense in which my friend John Thieme has in his recent book, Postcolonial Contexts. By con-texts, let me hasten to clarify, are meant not just the social, economic, and cultural backgrounds and grounds of production, which is the normal meaning of the word. By contexts are meant a whole range and group of texts that serve as contrary points of reference. These texts, then, are the contrary or opposing texts, in conjunction with which this body of cinema and writing needs to be read and understood. What I have been suggesting is that Indian English texts can best be read in conjunction with these con-texts written in the vernacular languages of India, and containing the contrary portrayals of India in juxtaposition to which Indian English literature is best understood. In other words, my argument posits that the literatures of India are complex not only because they are multilingual and multicultural, but in forming a cultural system, they cannot be contained in a single language. In other words, India, Indianess, and Indian literature are not arithmetical and cumulative – the sum total of the creative output in various languages, but something slightly different altogether: the total in this case, is more than a sum of the parts. In a peculiar sense, it is also less than a sum of the parts because every once in a while we may encounter a text which aims at expressing nothing short of the totality of India, even if it is in only one of its multitudinous languages. So, Indian creativity, and by extension, India and 'Indianness', belong to a different dimension than the mere accumulation of texts and tongues. It is somewhat akin to how a translated text is neither the original nor an entirely new text, but a different kind of text, a trans-text, if you will.
Translation is, of course, central to my argument. Analogically, let me suggest here that Indian literature is thus not just a literature but a trans-literature and that Indian culture is not just a culture, but a trans-culture. That is why it is all the more pernicious for Indian English literature to usurp the entire or the overwhelmingly significant part of space given to India, as is increasingly the case. Not only is Indian English literature not the entirety of Indian literature, but any special claims that it might make either in terms of quality or quantity must be rigorously questioned. This is not to question either the validity or the raison d'être of Indian English literature, but to seek to reposition it in the continuum of Indian literatures.
In other words, I am making a case against any claims to autonomy and self-sufficiency that Indian English literature or its advocates might advance. To speak of a tradition of Indian English literature, then, is at best fraught with major problems. To teach this literature in and of itself, as is done in universities all over India, and the world, is even less sustainable. Being a hybrid literature, Indian English literature demands a dual set of parameters, both national and international. There is, on the one hand, an international tradition of writing in English, called by any name, of which Indian English literature partakes, but it is also a part of the trans-tradition called Indian literature. To extend the argument to texts of the diaspora, I would simply say that these must be read in conjunction with and juxtaposition to Indian English texts, just as the latter need to be studied along with our so-called vernacular texts.
If I were to put my argument in a nutshell, I would say that it pleads for a process of continuous vernacularization – a vernacularization not only of English, but of the whole project of modernity and nationalism. We will recall that M.N. Srinivas made both Sanskritization and Westernization very famous as key concepts in Indian sociology.2 What we need, to complete the trinity, is this idea of vernacularization. If I had more time at my disposal, I would have argued that one of the reasons for the importance of diasporas is their vernacularization of the nation.
In this final section of my essay, I wish briefly to turn my attention to the question of postcolonial futures. This phrase alludes not only to the title of Bill Ashcroft's book published in 2002, but also to the last section of the newly-written sixth chapter of the just released new edition of The Empire Writes Back (2002). In the latter, the authors not only touch on the question of globalization (216-217) and diaspora (217-219), but seem to suggest that postcolonial studies can be not merely analytical, but engaged, and even constitutive of new futures. I am in sympathy with this drift. As Ashcroft says, in his Introduction to On Postcolonial Futures, postcolonial productions are not merely reactive, locked in a "prison of protest", but can also be proactive; this is because postcolonial discourses are primarily those of transformation (1). But Ashcroft is wrong in assuming that all postcolonials can do is to be able to take over "dominant discourses" and to transform them "in the service of their own self-empowerment" (1). Obviously, he is still in 'The Empire Writes Back' mode. There are discourses which neither write back to the imperium, nor do they react to it – after all, writing back is also a way of reifying the centre. Discourses which are at least partly independent of metropolitan centres are, instead, part of the internal expressions of a culture or civilization. These are societies that, so to speak, simply "do their own thing," although, in the process they may be implicated in a larger world.
That is why English is so important to Ashcroft, but not to us in India. In Australia, presumably, they have nothing else to write in. They have no alternative but to write back; so all that they can do is to seize the power of self-representation rather than allow others to represent them: "The central strategy in transformations of colonial culture is the seizing of self-representation" rvc(2). In India, however, many other languages persist. For Ashcroft, the key to decolonization is the seizing of English for the colonized subject's own use, thereby fracturing the power of the colonizer's medium and its civilizing function. But for us in India, the counter-strategy is not only to use English against its grain, but also to use translations, vernacular writing, and other means of self-representation, to resist and combat neo-colonial cultural domination. Ashcroft says the "strategies by which colonized societies have appropriated dominant technologies and discourses and used them in projects of self-representation" is "a model for the ways in which local communities everywhere engage global culture itself" (2). Once again, we are confronted with a dualistic model which presupposes that there is some kind of global culture somewhere out there distinct from pre-existing local cultures. Actually, we might argue that what is termed 'global culture' is merely an abstraction, while the only realities on the ground are its multiple local mediations.
In "The Future of English" (7-21), Ashcroft says that English has been dismantled and replaced by "a network of local post-colonial practices" (18). This "network of post-colonial practices" is precisely what I call the vernacularization of English. Like Ashcroft, I am concerned not just about postcolonial futures, but about the role that English can play in shaping them. Like Ashcroft, I, too, believe that transformation rather than reaction or sheer opposition is the key to a more enabling and equitable prospect for us, the once or twice or multiply-colonized peoples of the world. Nevertheless, I have argued that the one special type of postcolonial transformation that happens through "vernacularization" is much more than simply using the colonizer's language or technologies of representation, though it does involve both these strategies. "Vernacularization" is not just writing back to the centre, but finding an alternative space and mode of self-representation. It is therefore a way of being and communicating which cannot be simply appropriated or assimilated by the master-narratives of colonialism or even postcolonial high theory.
The real challenge for postcolonial futures is not so much to abolish centres so that only a plethora of peripheries exist, nor to abolish a centre with a capital "C" so that only multiple centres remain scattered all over. In the first instance there will be only peripheries, and no centres; in the second, only centres, and no peripheries. Such exercises, however persuasive theoretically, do not transform or overrule the material realities of a complex and highly unequal world order. The real challenge is to try to resist a certain kind of power through the amplification of another kind of power. Such a manoeuvre is exempt from both the naïve self-deceptions of utopians and the brutally cynical exercise of power of those whose business it is to dominate. Postcolonial transformation requires a critical redeployment of power rather than an escape from, or the denial of, the reality of power. In the more specific context of my paper, this is effected by invoking the multilingualism and polyphony of India against the monolingualism and univalence of both colonial and neo-colonial power. And a key device in such a strategic intervention is translation.
Works Cited
Ashcroft, Bill. The Empire Writes Back. 2nd ed. London: Routledge, 2002.
Ashcroft, Bill. On Postcolonial Futures. London: Continuum, 2001.
Benegal, Dev, Co-writer and Director. English August: An Indian Story. Feature Film. Bombay: Tripicfilm, 1994.
Bhatt, Rakesh. "Experts, Dialect, and Discourse." International Journal of Applied Linguistics. 12.1 (2002): 74-109.
Chatterjee, Upamanyu. English, August. London: Faber, 1988.
Mehta, Deepa. "Why Fire Is in English." Official DVD of Fire.
Mehta, Deepa. "Director's Notes." Official DVD of Fire.
Mehta, Deepa, Dir. Earth. Feature Film. India, 1999.
---, Dir. Fire. Feature Film. Canada/India, 1996.
Rao, Raja. Kanthapura. 1938. New Delhi: Orient Paperbacks, 1970
http://www.google.co.uk/search?q=bill+ashcroft+key+concept+in+postcolonialism&hl=en&start=60&sa=N

wato ngo
Local Champions of Kathmandu, Nepal [community based NGO]
WATO s a young but yet a very successful community based NGO in Nepal in terms of the successful community driven projects it has accomplished to this date. With its carefully designed community development projects, involving communities and concerned authorities at all levels, WATO has been successful in addressing each communities unique problems and needs. Established in 2000, by a group of committed and dedicated individuals, with the determination to make positive changes in peoples lives by achieving all it's goals. Not surprisingly, with it's belief that "positive change is possible" WATO has within this short period of time has launched number of community development projects in Kathmandu Nepal, making an impact on the communities. WATO, a non profit making organization (NGO in Nepal) is composed of individuals who graduated from universities around the globe and the number of people who share similar vision in support for our work is increasing with every community development project that WATO initiates. In short, our goal is to collect all the positive things that we have seen and learnt while our stay abroad, study their feasibility with local problems and implement them in our country, which would give local people a first hand experience on the world that they could build for themselves. WATO has been and will be launching community development programs at grassroots levels which will set as an example that men, women and children alike, have it in their hands to contribute substantially to a better quality of life for themselves and their communities.

Mission statement
To set an example, by working to help people develop their own communities and raising awareness so that everyone understands and bears responsibilities towards their communities, learns to care and love the environment, and eventually share their resources as a combined effort towards building a healthier environment and achieving sustainable socio-economic development, with the inclusion of disadvantaged and marginalized group and communities.
People behind WATO
Prajwol Gurung is a resident of Gyaneshwor, Kathmandu, Nepal, received his Bachelors degree in the field of Computer Engineering from the Beijing University of Science & Technology in China. After working in a reputed computer software company in Nepal for a few years, Prajwol pursued further studies in Belgium and received his Master's degree in Computer Science. He is the Chairman of WATO and has been involved in social works for a number of years.
Niraj Dawadi, is also a resident of Gyaneshwor, Kathmandu, Nepal and has been working in the social sector for a long time. He has played an important role in project development and enhancement of international cooperation of WATO Nepal. He received his Bachelors degree in the field of International Relations from the American University in Cairo, Egypt and Master's degree in the same field from the International University in Japan. He is the Secretary of WATO.
Pashupati Raj Joshi, is also an inhabitant of Gyaneswar, Kathmandu, Nepal and currently works as Technical Specialist at District Water Supply and Sanitation Office of Nepal Government. With more than 13 years of experience on water supplies and sanitation works in various parts of Nepal, Mr. Joshi brings to WATO his vast experience in anti-pollution, sanitation and water purification mechanisms. Mr. Joshi is cognizant of the problems of sanitation and pollution problem and has been an integral part of the organization since its inception. He is the Joint-Secretary of WATO.
Rajdip Lama, was born and grew up in Gyaneswor, Kathmandu, Nepal and is very much aware of all the problems in the community. He has been involved in the activities of the community for many years and has not only participated in community activities but has also worked in organizing several social events in Gyaneshwor and other neighborhoods in Kathmandu. Rajdip is the Treasurer of WATO.
next:

Welcome to Eco-friendly Nepal Home Page!!!


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ECON Introduction in Brief:
Eco-friendly Nepal (ECON) is voluntary a non-political, non-sectarian, non-governmental, non-profit making, humanitarian charitable organization based in the Himalayan Kingdom of Nepal, initiated in 2004 and established in January 2005.
ECON aims to promote sustainable development in the Himalayan (mountain) regions of Nepal through the identification, testing and exchange of ecotourism knowledge with a multidisciplinary staffs 3 professionals, ECON is a focal point for awareness, training applied research, project development and project implementation on a wide range of ecotourism issues that the local governments and people of this Himalayan range face.
Most activities will carried out by or through collaborating international organizations, ecotourism based national organizations, local governments, individuals (national and foreigners), local social organizations, and clubs. ECON provides for Himalayan people perspectives and exchange of information and experience along with access to knowledge on ecotourism.
Concept on ECON Founded:
Every year nearly half a million tourists visit Nepal. About a quarter go trekking in the Himalaya (Mountains). These trekkers are concentrated in a few relatively small areas. Such as Annapurna, Everest and Langtang regions. Many tourists are not well informed about Nepalese cultural values, nor of the sensitivity of the natural environment. They are not aware of the consequences of their activities. ECON's primary goal is to educate tourists and tourism professionals about how to minimize the negative impact of tourism. Existing problems such as deforestation, habitat destruction and waste accumulation can quickly be pushes to crisis level by the added pressure of tourist numbers. It can reasonably be estimated that trekkers alone produce well over 100000 kilos of waste each year in the Himalayas of Nepal. Such a flood of tourists also threatens to overwhelm indigenous cultures, substituting local values and customs for foreign ones.
Well meaning, but largely naive travelers can contribute to the breakdown of Nepalese culture. Both tourists and Nepalese are concerning economic and environmental values and expectations.

Category
Awareness, training, research, project development and project implementation of ecotourism for sustainable rural development in remote settlements of Nepal Himalayas.
Prime Foucses
· Awareness· Training· Research· Project development· Project implementation
Major Activities:
Awareness, training, research, project development and project implementation for the income and employment impact of mountain tourism. Similarly our activities are ecological impact studies, measuring the sustainability of mountain tourism, and the carrying capacity of mentioned areas. ECON is also evaluating the village tourism concept through home stay program, which aims to benefit a wider communities and stimulate community development. Monitoring system to evaluate the varied dimensions of tourism impacts, as well as tourism's contribution to community development.
Strengths of ECON:

· Awareness for Ecotourism· Training for Ecotourism· Research & publication for Ecotourism· Project development for ecotourism· Project implementation for ecotourism· Environmental awareness/preservation· Participatory methods
· Rural tourism development· Social inclusion & gender· Conservation & preservation

What is ECON Doing:
Having aim to provide ecotourism awareness, training, applied research, project development and project implementation, ECON provides these to tourists through the following activities:
1. Short-term activities for ecotourism (Awareness, training, applied research and workshops)
Conducting weekly slide shows and discussion programs
Conducting eco trekking and sustainable tourism workshops for tourism professionals
Conducting training for lodge owners for trekking routes, and
Distributing fliers, brochures and news letters.
2. Mid-term activities for eco-tourism (Works with local NGOs, volunteer opportunities, porter equipment depots and home stay programs)
ECON also works with other conservation bodies and locally based NGOs providing technical support and assistance. ECON has assisted in the opening of travelers information centers in Syabru Besi (Langtang Region), Betrawati (Ganesh Himal Region) and Sundarijal (Shivapuri & Helambu Regions)
Volunteer opportunities: Make an active contribution to Nepal during your visit! Activities could including first aid training, English language teaching, sustainable tourism workshops, building and repairing trails, litter cleaning and forestry projects.
Porters Equipment Depot:
Home Stay Programs:
3. Long-term activities for ecotourism (Larger project development and implementation them)
For developing countries, their natural and cultural heritage is a primary attraction for increasing number of international and domestic visitors. Tourism associated with cultural experiences and including natural and protected areas, continues to be a growing sector in the global tourism industries.
Together with related, conservation-linked enterprise development, ecotourism represents a potentially significant source of revenue and opportunities that address both economic and conservation problems for mountains and other communities. For ECON, ecotourism is responsible tourism that seeks to minimize negative impacts, generates economic benefits for participants provides an ideal visitor experience and is supported by policy framework, ECON focuses on rigorous economic and environmental analysis with active participation by key stakeholders from local villagers to policy makers and the commercial sector. Key elements of the ECON ecotourism model are capacity growth, generating benefits, monitoring and mitigating ecological impacts, and policy reform.
Ecotourism programs in the Himalayas (mountains) we developed:
We request suggest from you at this moment
Why ECON Important:
Every year nearly half a million tourists visit Nepal. About a quarter go trekking in the Himalaya (Mountains). These trekkers are concentrated in a few relatively small areas. Such as Annapurna, Everest and Langtang regions. Many tourists are not well informed about Nepalese cultural value, nor of the sensitivity of the natural environment. They are not aware of the consequences of their activities. ECON's primary goal is to educate tourists and tourism professionals about how to minimize the negative impact of tourism. Existing problems such as deforestation, habitat destruction and waste accumulation can quickly be pushes to crisis level by the added pressure of tourist numbers. It can reasonably be estimated that trekkers alone produce well over 100000 kilos of waste each year in the Himalayas of Nepal. Such a flood of tourists also threatens to overwhelm indigenous cultures, substituting local values and customs for foreign ones.
Well meaning, but largely naive travelers can contribute to the breakdown of Nepalese culture. Both tourists and Nepalese are concerning economic and environmental values and expectations.
Ecotourism We Understood:
TIES defines ecotourism as "responsible travel to natural areas that conserves the environment and improves the well-being of local people."This means that those who implement and participate in ecotourism activities should follow the following principles:
Minimize impact
Build environmental and cultural awareness and respect
Provide positive experiences for both visitors and hosts
Provide direct financial benefits for conservation
Provide financial benefits and empowerment for local people
Raise sensitivity to host countries' political, environmental, and social climate
Support international human rights and labor agreements
Ecotourism today is a phenomenon which enables sustainable tourism to be practiced with the participation of local people. Sustainable tourism practices (minimum impact for maximum benefit) focus on environmentally responsible travel to relatively undisturbed natural areas, with low visibility impact and ensuring benefits to the local people. Conservation of natural resources by the use of alternatives has shown that tourism can maintain the status quo if planned correctly.
In n practice of ecotourism, it is also very conscious of the dangers of allowing the carrying capacity of certain regions to be overloaded, thereby causing changes in the cultural outlook of the people most threatened by over exposure, and also the need to project the fragile historical and cultural infrastructure.
Ensuring a balance between visitor's satisfaction and the needs of the community is essential. Sustainability can only be ensured by providing economic opportunities to the local communities directly related to tourism, which should then encourage them to ensure the natural and cultural heritages. NO nature, NO culture equals NO tourists, NO income.



Fore more details, please contact us at:
Eco-friendly Nepal (ECON)P.O. Box: 11870, Bhagawati Bahal Marg, Thamel Tel: 977-1-4410351 Fax: 977-1-4410351 Email: info@econ.org.np Web Site: http://www.econ.org.np

What and Where is Post-colonial Theory?
The inquiry into the racist murder of Stephen Lawrence with the Metropolitan
Police’s admission of institutionalised racism, the defamatory and near racist
language used by both sides of the political divide over the issue of asylum
seekers and refugees, and the appalling and terrifying spectre of extreme rightwing
domestic terrorism are just some of the news stories of the last few years
which have thrown into sharp relief the debates which surround issues such as
racism, nationalism, national identity, immigration, the continuing legacies of
western colonial, imperial histories and the nature of society in multi-cultural
urban areas.
Much of the most exciting, challenging and thought-provoking work in the fields
of visual arts and literature has been focused on precisely such issues, be it from
established and successful artists such as Chris Opili, Yinke Shonebare, and
Zadie Smith, to less well known artists such as John Nassari, Ming Wong and
others featured in this site.
In Arts and Humanities Departments in Universities throughout the world such
issues and concerns have been theorised, discussed, debated and disseminated
under the category of Post-colonial Theory. This site aims to provide a resource
for students, artists, writers and researchers interested in finding out more about
this exciting but difficult area of cultural and critical theory. It aims to introduce
some of the key arguments and issues and will feature some of the most
important figures in the field, whilst at the same time acknowledging that, in
attempting to be accessible some of the ideas may have been somewhat
skimmed. Given the wide and developing scope of this theory some key figures
who have made important contributions to post-colonial theory have
unfortunately been omitted. However, what is lost through this introduction is
made up for in the extensive reading lists and links; the site is primarily designed
to function as a research tool to enable a groundwork into the thoughts, ideas,
conceptual under-pinnings and lively debates which make up the field of postcolonial
theory.
Before beginning this introductory guide to post-colonial theory, it is important to
place the term into some historical and intellectual contexts. As the term implies,
one of the central features of post-colonial theory is an examination of the impact
and continuing legacy of the European conquest, colonisation and domination of
non-European lands, peoples and cultures. In short, the creation by European
powers such as England and France of dominated foreign empires. Central to
this critical examination is an analysis of the inherent ideas of European
superiority over non-European peoples and cultures that such imperial
colonisation implies.
In addition to critically analysing the assumptions that the colonisers have of the
colonised, this work also seeks to uncover the damaging effects of such ideas on
both the self-identity of the colonised and the instability of the conceptual underpinnings
of the colonisers. A key feature of such critical theoretical examinations
is the analysis of the role played by representation in installing and perpetuating
such notions of European superiority. To put it simply, how does representation
perpetuate negative stereotypes of non-European people and cultures and how
do such stereotypes negatively affect the identity of those stereotyped?
Furthermore, given the decolonisation of these
lands following the Second World War and the development of independent
nation states, what is the role of representation in the construction of new postcolonial
identities?
Given the centrality of concepts of representation, identity and history to the
project of post-colonial theory, it will be of no surprise to find many of the key
thinkers in the field have been influenced by the post 1960’s intellectual
movements of structuralism and post-structuralism. Influential thinkers such as
Roland Barthes, Jacques Lacan, Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida and Julia
Kristera have all had their conceptual and theoretical ideas used, sometimes in
slightly modified or developed form, in the work of contemporary post-colonial
theorists.
Three post-structuralist thinkers stand out as being largely influential in the field,
these being Jacques Lacan, Michel Foucault and Jacques Derrida - Lacan,
Foucault and Derrida are, in different ways, important to the work of the four key
post-colonial theorists. These are Franz Fanon, Edward Said, Gayatri
Chakravarty Spivak, and Homi. K. Bhabha.

Hybridity
As we have already seen, one of the earlier stages of postcolonial analysis
involved the reclamation of pre-colonial forms of history and culture and the
construction of new national identities based on specific and local knowledges
and histories. In many respects this process of identity formation through the
construction of myths 14 “of nation and national identity refers to the humanist
Cartesian notion that self identity is a forced and stable category based on a
knowable, “transcendental” and “autonomous” sense of self 15
, closer analysis
however, reveals that patterns of migration, both the movement of colonisers into
the colonised area and immigration from the “colonies” to the “colonial power”,
result in national identity being much more hybrid than was originally understood.
“That the need to assert such myths of origin was an important feature of early
post colonial theory and writing and that it was a vital part of the collective
political resistance which focused on issues of separate identity and cultural
distinctiveness is made clear [… .] But what is also made clear is how problematic
such construction is and how it has come under question in more recent
accounts… [… ] ”
Hybridity occurs in post colonial societies both as a result of conscious
movements of cultural suppression, as when the colonial power invades to
consolidate political and economic control, or when settler-invaders disposes
indigenous peoples and force them to “assimilate” to new social patterns. It may
also occur in later periods when patterns of immigration from metropolitan
societies and from other imperial areas of influence [… .] continue to produce
complex cultural palimpsests with the post colonial world”.16
An example of the hybrid nature of national identity may be found in recent
popular culture with the chart hit football song, Vindaloo by Fat Les, where
English national identity is constructed in and through the cultural representation
of football and the consumption of Indian food.
Ethnicity
Closely related to the notion that post colonial national identities are of a hybrid
nature is the body of work which surrounds concepts of Ethnicity. The
development of the term ethnicity in current post colonial theory marks a shift
from earlier discussions of “race “ and some brief analysis of the two terms
should help throw some light onto current debates in this area.
Earlier struggles against racism and colonialism centred upon the construction of
the positive identity of being “black” and as such this concept of “blackness” was
primarily based on physical features and characteristics as a marker of identity.
Useful as this may have been to the political struggles against racism and
colonialism, it tended to homogenise and universalise the experience of all black
people and to deny that there are a multitude of diverse cultures within the
“black” community. Furthermore this approach tended to “privilege” black people
as being the only victims of racism and colonialism. For these reasons, the term
Ethnicity rather than race came into use in postcolonial analysis. Ethnicity
recognises the social, cultural and religious practices which help to constitute a
cultural identity and is less reductive than the more physically based concept of
race. Furthermore, this shift towards “Ethnicity” as a focus for critical activity and
analysis recognises and to some extent foregrounds the aforementioned
concepts of Hybridity and cultural identity.
Location
The above mentioned concepts of the hybridity of cultural identity and the
analysis identity in terms of ethnicity rather than race, leads to a more complex
understanding of cultural location. Space does not permit a detailed discussion
of current thinking in this area except to say that location is less concerned with
analysis of a particular geographical area and its relationships to identity but
rather with the analysis of the social, cultural, religious and linguistic processes
which constitute a cultural identity regardless of the specific location in which
these occur. This concern with the non-geographic aspects of cultural location
results in a more sophisticated analysis of political struggles against racism and
colonialism and takes into account both the migrations of diaspora communities
and their interaction with other social groups, be they indigenous peoples or
other cultural diasporas.
The concepts of Hybridity, Ethnicity and Location are just three areas of
postcolonial theory which emphasize the heterogeneity of postcolonial cultural
identity and its constructed and unstable nature. This has led to a more complex
and sophisticated analysis of the politics of identity as it relates to the condition
of life in a postmodern, postcolonial world.
The purpose of this piece is to map the terrain of the debates rather than take a
position within them. It is worth, however, grappling with the theory discussed
above, as the insights that much of it contains can be usefully applied to the
analysis of our electronic based, image centred, consumer culture and much of
this work has provided useful critiques of such concepts as history, identity, the
self or subject and representation and consequence that characterise the shift
towards the condition of post-coloniality.
This essay contains many useful links to other websites exploring the ideas
expressed above. In addition, it is worth searching the Links section of this site
as many other relevant websites and projects are referenced there.

rushdie