The "Prospero complex"Octave Mannoni, a former colonial administrator writing in 1948 on the "psychology of colonization," finds in Europeans attitudes about the colonized world which he describes by recalling The Tempest: Shakespeare's theme is the drama of the renunciation of power and domination, which are symbolized by magic, a borrowed power which must be rendered up. Man must learn to accept himself as he is and to accept others as they are, even if they happen to be called Caliban. This is the only wise course, but the path towards wisdom is long and infinitely painful for Prospero. There is no doubting the nature of Prospero's magical power, for at his side we find his obedient daughter -- and magic is the child's image of paternal omnipotence. Whenever his absolute authority is threatened, and however slight the threat, Prospero -- our aspirant to wisdom -- always becomes impatient and almost neurotically touchy. The essence of the problem is revealed at the outset; Prospero lays down his magic garment and prepares to tell Miranda the story of his life. In other words, he tries to treat Miranda as an equal; but he fails. He begins with 'Obey and be attentive,' and the recital is punctuated with other orders of the same kind, all absurd and quite unwarranted; later in the play he even goes so far as to threaten Miranda with his hatred. It is the same with Ariel; Prospero has promised him his liberty, but fails to give it to him . . . This again means that Prospero has the absolute authority of the father. Caliban is the unruly and incorrigible son who is disowned. Prospero says he was 'got by the devil himself.' At the same time he is the useful slave who is ruthlessly exploited. But Caliban does not complain of begin exploited; he complains rather of being betrayed . . . . Caliban has fallen prey to the resentment which succeeds the breakdown of dependence. Prospero seeks to justify himself: did Caliban not attempt to violate the honour of his child? After such an offense, what hope is there? There is no logic in this argument. Prospero could have removed Caliban to a safe distance or he could have continued to civilize and correct him. But the argument: you tried to violate Miranda, therefore you shall chop wood, belongs to a non-rational mode of thinking. In spite of the various forms this attitude may take (it includes, for instance, working for the father-in-law, a common practice in patriarchal communities), it is primarily a justification of hatred on grounds of sexual guilt, and it is at the root of colonial racialism. This pattern of thought, writes Mannoni, works according to a projection on the part of the settler, whom he calls "the colonial" below. [T]he savage . . . is identified in the unconscious with a certain image of the instincts -- of the id, in analytical terminology. And civilized man is painfully divided between the desire to 'correct' the errors of the savages and the desire to identify himself with them in his search for some lost paradise (a desire which at once casts doubt upon the merit of the very civilization he is trying to transmit to them). What the colonial in common with Prospero lacks, is an awareness of the world of Others, a world in which Others have to be respected. . . . Rejection of that world is combined with an urge to dominate, an urge which is infantile in origin and which social adaptation has failed to discipline. The reason the colonial himself gives for his flight -- whether he says it was the desire to travel, or the desire to escape from the cradle or from the 'ancient parapets', or whether he says that he simply wanted a freer life -- is of no consequence, for whatever the variant offered, the real reason is still what I have called very loosely the colonial vocation. It is always a question of compromising with the desire for a world without men. As for the man who chooses a colonial career by chance and without specific vocation, there is nevertheless every possibility that he too has a 'Prospero complex', more fully repressed, but still ready to emerge to view in favourable conditions . . . . ---Prospero and Caliban, trans. Pamela Powesland (1956), 105-6, 21. |