Zhan
Comparative Literature
4/18/08

Overcoming Boundaries: an interpretation and analysis of the “Notebook of a Return to the Native Land” by Aimé Césaire in light of Judith Butler’s essay “Gender is Burning”

At the end of the wee hours… Beat it, I said to him, you cop, you lousy pig, beat it, I detest the flunkies of order and the cockchafers of hope…
–Aimé Césaire, “Notebook of a Return to the Native Land”

From the start, Césaire surprises the reader. He defies and denounces a cop and tells him to “beat it,” which seems to us so intrinsically destabilizing and peculiar, it reroutes, what Judith Butler calls, “the relations of power” (123). In her essay “Gender is Burning,” Butler argues that the meeting between a cop and a man is defined through an imposed societal construct within which the notion of the “Law” and its power of subjection can be explored. Through defining and establishing the social position of the subject in relation to law, the police are able to reiterate and establish the “order of social existence” (121); however, in so doing, the police invariably fail to “disarticulate the power of punishment from the power of recognition” (122). This disarticulation poses a problem in the sense that the authority of the law is solely recognized through its power to punish, which bases compliance in fear. Césaire, nevertheless, defies this and denounces the authority of the cop, and in so doing brings about a certain subversion in the relations of power. Through defying the police, Césaire has managed to reconstitute the legitimacy of the law and bring into question its authority.
Let us now consider the role of the “cop” in the “Notebook…” First off, his very existence is never really reaffirmed in the poem; in fact, the reader wonders if someone like Césaire—a French educated intellectual—would really be calling a cop “a pig” and telling him to “beat it”; furthermore, the fact that Césaire seemingly gets away with his offenses further leads us to believe that the cop represents no real, individual cop. Thus, the cop should rather be treated as a literary character as opposed to an actual person, and his role in the poem should be considered a symbolic one.
For the reader, the cop is an embodiment of the law and of the repressive power relations constituted on the subject, and in this respect, Césaire’s defiance could be said to be, as Butler puts it, a “refusal of the law in the form of the parodic [sic] inhabiting of conformity that […] calls into question the legitimacy of the command, a repetition of the law into hyperbole, a rearticulation [sic] of the law against the authority of the one who delivers it” (122). For Césaire, however, the cop also stands for all the previous grievances—the accumulated violations and repressions of Martinique, which, in turn, renders Césaire’s assail and defiance as an attack against the French colonialism. The cop, while being affronted by Césaire, remains silent and obedient, and it could be further argued that Césaire, in fact, manages to subjectivate the cop within his own relations of power in the hypothetical realm of the poem. Following the same notion, it is easy to say that what Césaire has presented here is the complete reversal of the societal roles and the power relations that were identified in the beginning of Butler’s essay.
As Césaire takes up the role of the cop, he attempts to mime and repeat the same relations of power associated with the colonizer and the colonized, yet through his deliberate failure to fully embody and reiterate the role, Césaire calls into question the validity, or rather the righteousness of the originating role. It could be said, in fact, that just as “ambivalent drag,” this notion of the reversal of roles “reflects the more general situation of being implicated in the regimes of power by which one is constituted and, hence, of being implicated in the very regimes of power that one opposes” (Butler 125). For Césaire, the “Notebook…” is the matrix in which he can explore these “regimes of power,” and through his reworking of the very relations of power in which he, himself, is implicated, Césaire manages to empower himself and his voice.
Through assuming the role of the cop from the beginning, Césaire establishes a certain sense of legitimacy of voice; his defiance of the regimes of the power and the fact that he got away with it elevate Césaire as someone who successfully was able to oppose and rework the power relations of the colonizer and the colonized, which, in turn, gives validity to his words. In this respect, “Notebook…” is Césaire’s attempt to overcome the designated societal construct of the colonized Martinique, which he achieves through validation and self-empowerment. For instance, let us consider the following excerpt: “I would rediscover the secret of great communications and great combustions. I would say storm. I would say river. I would say tornado. I would say leaf. I would say tree. I would be drenched by all rains, moistened by all dews” (43).
For Césaire, the “I” defines an individual, it defines him. The emphasis and repetition of the “I” allows for Césaire to express defiance, as it singles out the individual and gives him voice. Without the “I,” there would be no individual embodying the voice and it is the voice that is so important in the “Notebook…” The “I” is made personal, and it is through the poem that we learn what constitutes this “I.” It is embodied by Césaire’s subversion and rejection of the colonial regime, and in Judith Butler terms, for Césaire, the “I” reveals its own relation to and construction within the regimes of power that Césaire implicates himself with. The “I,” Butler argues, is defined and constructed through the reaffirmation and reiteration of the role of the “I” in terms of its repressive regime of power, and she further notes that it “cannot extract itself from the historicity of that chain or raise itself up and confront that chain” (122). Following this notion, it could be said that the “I,” for Césaire, embodies the repetition of the role of the “colonized,” or rather, it serves as a reminder and reaffirmation of the repressive regime by which it is constituted. In this respect, after establishing the validity of voice and his willingness to oppose this very regime, Césaire, with every “I,” advances the notion of subversion (although on a smaller scale), and through reestablishing the relations of power earlier, Césaire reaffirms his assumed role of power through the repetition of the “I.”
This notion of self-empowerment is a reoccurring thematic motif throughout the “Notebook…” and we can see this in Césaire’s use of the Creationist-like proclamations in the excerpt. They serve, in part, as a validation for the voice, setting great emphasis on the power of words and, through the repetition of the “I”, the power of the individual. Indeed, the minimalistic structure of the sentences does not allow wide interpretation, leaving the reader only to focus on the “I” and the commanding power of voice. In fact, by structuring the sentences as such, Césaire evokes an association with the Bible, which in itself associates with Western ideals and notions, and through embracing this form, Césaire again reiterates the reversal of the relations of power.
Repetition itself has become an important thematic motif for Césaire. By continuously repeating the same notions, Césaire produces a ‘hammering-down’ effect, almost imbuing the ideas into the reader . This indoctrinating effect is achieved through the very way Césaire constructs the “Notebook…” Formulating it as a uniform structure within which its uniformity is repeatedly reiterated, he manages to create a sense of a slow and methodic flow. This uniformity is achieved through the continuous return to similar forms and notions and is apparent, for instance, in Césaire’s repeated inclusion of the phrase “at the end of the wee hours,” which in itself has an effect of ‘tying everything up’ together and serves as a reference point through the poem. Through the continual repetition of similar ideas and notions, Césaire not only gives them a sense of validity, which in turn empowers them, but is also able to explore the multiplicity of different facets to the regimes of power while still referring back to the original concept.
Butler also notes the importance of repetition. She argues that repetition has its own power in being able to establish and validate a notion, for each repetition is a reaffirmation in itself of the idea’s claim on authenticity. For instance, in the context of the scene with the cop, Butler remarks that through the subjection of the subject and the ensuing obedience of the subject, the cop is able to reaffirm the relations of power in which the subject is constituted, which in turn establishes the subject’s link within the “chain of historicity” and further invalidates any attempt on his or her part to escape the role of the subject. However, she also argues that repetition—through its failure “to repeat loyally”—possesses also the power to put into the question the regimes of power and their claim on righteousness (124). To go back to Césaire, it could be argued that the “Notebook…” itself is an attempt to question, or rather invalidate the relations of power of the colonizer and the colonized within which Césaire is constituted. For example, Césaire’s subversion and empowerment through the use of the “I”—which has been established and formulated through the reaffirmation of its own relation to the power regime—embodies the “reworking” and “re-signification” of its originating aim to subjectivate.
When talking about the “Notebook…” it is also quite important to look at it as a piece of literature. As such, its principal role is to designate a readership and try to persuade and entice it to either understand or take up the idea that is being presented. Following this notion, the “Notebook…” is an argument, and in this respect, it is interesting to note the way in which Césaire attempts to persuade and convince the reader of the argument’s validity; this also explains, on a different level, the importance of Césaire’s use of repetition, evocative language, and poignant imagery.
In this perspective, we can view Césaire as an architect of his own “cultural nexus,” embodied in the poem. This is the non-spatial “crossroads of cultural and political discursive forces,” to use Butler’s words, where Césaire, as its chief designer, could produce and reiterate the relations of power in his own fashion. This freedom allowed Césaire to take up the power role, to empower and validate the ego, and in turn, give authority to his words and ideas. As the following stanza shows, the power of words and their ability to redefine and reshape established norms is a great preoccupation for Césaire: “At the end of the wee hours this land without a stele, these paths without memory, these winds without a tablet. / So what? / We would tell. Would sing. Would howl. / Full voice. Ample voice, you would be our wealth, our spear pointed. / Words? / Ah yes, words!” (49). Again, we also see the importance of repetition in the exclamations of “we would tell,” “would sing,” and “would howl” which serves as a progression—first from tell, then to sing, and then howl. This progression delineates a certain de-evolution into some animalistic nature of man; it is the idea of retelling the story, but at the same time retelling it yourself, in your own voice. In respect of this, it could be said that the “Notebook…” is Césaire’s own, idiosyncratic retelling of the oppression of the colonized people of Martinique.
This idea is most evident in the way the “Notebook…” itself is structured. First-time readers of Césaire would surely be surprised by his unconventionality in form and disregard towards the ‘usual norms’ of poetry; however, in this very defiance in and re-articulation of the poetic structure, Césaire produces the notion of moving away from European ideals, disarticulating himself from the imperial France, and creating a new, bona fide voice, which would more accurately embody the culture and identity of the Martinique people. Educated in France, Césaire would be expected to follow the conventionality of norms that defined the preceding French poetry of the 19th century. For instance, looking at Baudelaire’s poetry, there is a certain devotion to the rigidity of structure, defined by set meter, rhyme, and diction. Césaire, however, is not ruled by such definitive terms, and allows himself complete freedom in form and language. He, in fact, introduces a great deal of surrealism to his poetry and creates a great accent on vivid and poignant imagery.
In another poem “Lay of Errantry,” for instance, Césaire remarks on the history of his nation in surrealistic and powerful imagery: “Exploded sky flayed curve / of flogged slaves’ backs / grief treasurer of the trade winds / shut book of spells forgotten words / I question my mute past.” Devoid of virtually any punctuation, this continuous flow of colonial imagery and subversive themes is taken in as a whole, and in the “Notebook…” (which is book-length, mind you) this creates a trance-like effect. The repetition of forms and phrases in the “Notebook…” also gives it a song-like feel, which perhaps, one might argue, only further evocates the idea of self-expression through an allowed freedom, which no presupposed European forms could fully embody.
This should not, however, be viewed as Césaire attack or attempt at subversion to the French poetic ideals, but rather as a reiteration through reworking of, what Butler calls, “the hegemonic forms” (124). In fact, the “Notebook…” should not be viewed as a direct affront at the colonizer and his ideals; it is a reformulation, a reiteration that calls up the reader to look beyond the societal constructs of the colonizer and the colonized, to defy its claim on authority and strive for a voice, an individuality that is not simply defined through its relation to power, but is allowed equal footing and freedom of self-expression. Césaire leads this notion with himself as an example. He has defied the power regime embodied by the cop and assumed his power; he then further reestablishes his claim on authority and legitimacy by constantly reaffirming his power through the formation of the “I” and the reversal of the power roles. As a persuasive argument then, the “Notebook…” could be said to be very effective on many different levels of interpretation. By also introducing Judith Butler’s argument in “Gender is Burning” as a comparative vantage point, we are allowed to explore these very levels of interpretation; it serves as prism through which we can view Césaire’s poetry through the notion of subjection, relation of power, and the power of repetition. Delineating the parallels and connections within the two texts, it is possible to explore on a greater extent and through a different perspective the multifaceted nature of literature—the broad range of interpretation and of ways to perceive a single idea.

Works Cited

Butler, Judith. “Gender is Burning.” Bodies that Matter. New York: Routledge, 1993.

Césaire, Aimé. “Notebook of a Return to the Native Land,” “Lay of Errantry.” The Collected Poetry. Trans. Clayton Eshleman and Annette Smith. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984