Civil Rights: Of Prisons and the English Canon

PERHAPS the most distinctive feature of an English Literature education at present is its considerable dependence on canonical texts which have traditionally become accepted as being exceptionally meritable in a unspoken (But still, somehow, perceptible) variety of aspects – stylistic expression, command of the language, and the conveyance of moral ideals deemed beneficial to society. Clearly, it is therefore reasonable to assume that the entire existence of a canon is contingent upon the idea of exclusivity, that the premium placed on a particular selection of literary works is done so with great specificity and deliberation. Beginning with that fundamental supposition, it naturally follows that the canon aligns itself with an essentialist view of literature. This is the belief that there are definitive characteristics to what a literary piece should – or should not – be, and what separates “text” from mere “words” (Undoubtedly, there are overwhelmingly numerous discussions that attempt to identify these characteristics, though they, at least for now, contribute little to the central argument here). And, after all, who decides what’s worthy of the canon?

The resultant effect of adopting a canonical approach to appreciating and teaching literature is a stifling of civil rights movements that develop their causes through literary avenues. If we accept that minority (This term is not limited to numerically inferior groups, but can easily accomodate collectives which lack representation as well) individuals have a complete capacity to build an identity for themselves by means of literature, then by extension, there is a crippling necessity for a common language and more importantly, a common understanding of that medium – only then can its providence be recognized. More often than not, however, this common understanding is monopolized by the antithetical socially dominant, who (Surprise, surprise) strengthen their establishment through a monodimensional literary canon that is “ethnocentric… and antagonistic to diversity or of embodying absolute judgments which cannot be sustained,” (Fleming, 1999). This does not suggest that minority voices are absent, but rather suppressed and inundated by the prevalence of what French feminist Julia Kristeva (1980) designates the “symbolic” realm of the English language: structured, organized, and repressive.

OF greater consequence beyond mere inhibition, however, is the corruption of minority literature when writers are forced to adopt the very language of oppression and adhere by canonical guidelines simply to gain some semblance of social acceptance. It is important that the construction of an identity unique to the minority member alone is untainted by inaccuracy of unrepresentative aggregations. Using literature to fulfill this hence demands some degree of sufficient communicative gradation, which authors can adapt to, independently decide, regulate and define the parameters of a personal narrative they feel most relevant, and not merely an arbitrary imposition by the canon. Under no circumstances can the complexities of an entire civil rights movement be cumulated as a broad and imprecise summation to fulfill “an appealing sort of vagueness,” (Tarn, 1993). This respect for social diversity is contrary to the whole notion of a literary canon. Literature “can be envisioned that it is not at all universalist, or reflecting the hegemonic temptations of the new world order,” Instead, it “seeks to present a patchwork of minor literatures” to assemble a consciousness that preserves the multiplicity of perspectives (Touaf & Boutkhil, 2006). The following excerpt from An Introduction to Post-colonial Theory is particularly apt:

…[Literature], we have stressed, is not a homogenous category… Rather, it refers to a typical configuration that is always in the process of change, never consistent with itself. (An Introduction to Post-Colonial Theory, p. 19)

NOT just possessive of a systemic inability to represent the politically poor, the canon is quite obviously tremendously exclusionary – even to individuals of common belief; it is perturbing that canonical behavior has an unsettling penchant for enforcing homogeneity, without provisions for moderation. This is likely to be perceived as an authoritative barometer for the universal standards of the civil rights movement in question, since the canon is a gateway to what the masses consider “correct” or “the pinnacle”. Hence, a large segment of minority members in society who may perhaps believe in varying levels of their respective civil rights movements are disenfranchised by this restrictive absolutism. In Black Women, Writing and Identity, writer Carole Boyce Davies (1994) considers the reluctance of black female writers to be labeled as being part of the wider scheme of post-colonialism for fear of reprisal from a society that had yet to fully shed its discriminatory structures against the entire notion of African-American emancipation, because, in this circumstance, the canon shuts off resistance efforts as “not normal” and “questionable”.

THE canon eliminates “whole territories of historical consciousness silenced by the power establishment and invaded by the dominant to make them inaccessible to other voices,” (Attridge & Rosemary, 1998) This is possibly evident by the extent of perennialism in preferred systems of education – such is the didactic and essentialist function of that which is canonical.

Sources

Attridge, D., & Rosemary, J. (1998). Writing south africa. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Retrieved from http://books.google.com.sg/books?hl=en&lr=&id=n0tH6KLudrAC&oi=fnd&pg=PR7&dq=role of political literatureapartheid&ots=PaVpMlagSz&sig=NSI7LuF1C1fB9rVOd14cz2OXT2M

Corse, S. M. (1994). Nationalism and literature. (p. 77). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Retrieved from http://books.google.com.sg/books?hl=en&lr=&id=YH0Ru6Al66sC&oi=fnd&pg=PR9&dq=literature and politics and the individual&ots=RqEeJkcgag&sig=WlvHTBHpfUO4lTVjCgCCw-I98iI

Fleming, M. (1999). The literary canon: The implications for teaching language as a subject. (p. 1). Durham: University of Durham Press.

Kristeva, J. (1980). Desire in language: A semiotic approach to literature and art. New York: Columbia University Press.

Tarn, T. H. (1993). The lady of soul and her ultimate “s” machine. Singapore:

Touaf, L., & Boutkhil, S. (2006). Representing minorities: Studies in literature and criticism. (p. ix). Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Press. Retrieved from http://www.c-s-p.org/flyers/9781847180469-sample.pdf