“Who are you? You don’t know? Don’t tell me ‘negro’, that’s nothing. What were you before the white man named you a negro? And where were you? What did you have? What was yours?”

Malcolm X

“The difference between the civil rights movement of 1954-68 and the Black Power movement, was that the civil rights movement sought equality with whites- and was a middle class movement. The Black Power movement assumed equality, of person, and merely sought the opportunity to express that equality by saying, ‘We are a proud people. We don’t need you to tell us that. Our kinky hair is glorious, our black skin is something we’re proud of, and we are who we are.’”

Disillusioned by the Civil Rights movement’s inability to instigate real social change and inspired by the ideas of Malcolm X, the early 1960s witnessed the birth of The Black Power Movement, a political and social movement that advocated racial pride, self-sufficiency and equality for all people of Black and African descent. The movement, which gave rise to its own associated Black militant group, the Black Panthers, represented the demanding voice of a younger generation that had given up on Martin Luther King’s nonviolence rhetoric, in a refusal to remain complacent in their own oppression. It was no longer integration into the existing white-centered social structure that Afro-Americans wanted; it was self-determination and self-fulfillment on the grounds of racial pride, with the creation of political and cultural institutions run by Afro-Americans for­ Afro-Americans being the first and foremost goal in the agenda.

This goal, as the first demand in the Black Panther Party’s Ten-Point Program is expressed as follows: ‘We want the power to determine the destiny of our black community. We believe that Black People will not be free until we are able to determine our own destiny.’ At the time this manifesto was drafted, there were only 50 Black elected officials in the country, which included local seats like school boards. This first point was the Panthers’ attempt to increase Black representation and the inclusion of Black politicians in the country’s political affairs. On the political philosophy of Black nationalism, a philosophy that largely influenced the Black Power movement, Malcolm X had this to say:

“We must control the politics and the politicians of our community. They must no longer take orders from outside forces. We will organize, and sweep out of office all Negro politicians who are puppets for the outside forces.”

From ‘A Declaration of Independence’

The agenda also accounted for independence with regard to the economy, stating ‘We want an end to the robbery by the capitalists of our black and oppressed communities.’ According to a study by the U.S. Census Bureau, unemployment and poverty rates for Blacks, in 1966, were double those of whites, with 42% of Blacks living below the poverty line, unable to secure even basic necessities. The Panthers’ sought to eliminate the income gaps between Blacks and whites, and to allow Black store-owners, struggling from a lack of capital, the right to operate in their own communities without the threat of competition from white-owned multi-million dollar companies.

“Why should white people be running all the stores in our community? Why should white people be running the banks of our community! Why should the economy of our community be in the hands of the white man? Why? If a black man can’t move his store into a white community, you tell me why a white man should move his store into a black community.”

From ‘The Ballot or the Bullet’

The fifth point in the manifesto, regarding education, states, ‘We want education that teaches us our true history and our role in the present day society. We believe in an educational system that will give our people a knowledge of self. If a man does not have knowledge of himself and his position in society and the world, then he has little chance to relate to anything else.’ To link this back to CLR James’ The Black Jacobins, a re-evaluation of the standard way of teaching history was in order; moving away from the general trend of writing about Black history as always in relation to whites, instead of in relation to their own history, to their own personhood. This placed an emphasis on the importance of racial pride- something which was instilled through teachings in Black Americans from a young age, where children as young as five were taught to refuse the label of ‘American negro’ and embrace the title of ‘African American’.

“We cannot think of uniting with others, until after we have first united among ourselves. We cannot think of being acceptable to others until we have first proven acceptable to ourselves.”

From ‘A Declaration of Independence’

Point six in the manifesto dealt with the issue of the military drafts. ‘We want all Black men to be exempt from military service.’ The Black Power movement resisted, by whatever means necessary, the force and violence of the racist military; refusing to defend a racist government that did not protect them, against other people of color in the world who, like Blacks, were victimized by white forces. This refusal by groups such as the Panthers to participate in the Vietnam war is credited as being one of the reasons why the draft was abolished in 1973.

“Not only did we give of our free labor, we gave of our blood. Every time he had a call to arms, we were the first ones in uniform.”

From ‘The Ballot or the Bullet’

By 1980, the Black Panther Party had largely dissolved due to COINTELPRO, an FBI program designed to prevent the unification and success of various black power coalitions. Several hundred Panthers were imprisoned or jailed in each year that the party remained active, and many of the leaders in the party had been executed by local and federal law enforcement, including Fred Hampton, who was killed in an FBI raid of his home during his sleep. The Black Power movement, emerging in the early 1960s and the consequent Black Panther Party, founded in 1966, were both greatly influenced by the speeches and ideas of Malcolm X, whose assassination in 1965 was said to have ‘ignited’ the Black Power Movement. They were a response, one could say, to Malcolm’s message to the grass roots- the call for revolution.

“For it is rhythm- the main virtue, in fact, of negritude- that gives the work of art its beauty.”

By way of words similar to the ones above, Senghor in his text makes multiple references to this concept of an African ‘rhythm,’ as he calls it, or an African essence, that apparently characterizes all African art and expression, and forms the basis of African ontological philosophy. In the process of this, he sets up the image of the African man, taken to represent all Africans, against that of the European- using the dichotomy between rhythm and order, and consequently between black and white, to define African identity. While it is certain that the text is motivated by a desire to reclaim a lost pride, or a search for self-affirmation for the black race, the unintended duality of the text seems to suggest that it is almost an attempt to justify the black man’s existence in the eyes of the European. It is precisely this approach to negritude that Fanon critiques in Black Skins, White Masks;the idea that everything the black man does- whether expressed in poetry or art- is ultimately and unintendedly for the white man. In this justification, Senghor makes yet another misstep. In putting forth the notion of an ‘African essence,’ he is compartmentalizing the black race in much the same way that the white man has done. The difference lies in whether the connotation of this compartmentalization is positive or negative. Relevant again are Fanon’s words: “To us, the man who adores the negro is as sick as the man who abominates him.” Ultimately, the problem is this: Can the black man not exist independently of this two-way compartmentalization? Can he ever break free from the impositions that tether him to being either ‘this’ or ‘that’? To answer these questions, one can look to the ideas expressed in Fanon’s Black Skins, White Masks to understand the consequence of African essentialism in Senghor’s negritude.

At a point in the text, Senghor writes that negritude, by its ontology, its moral law and its aesthetic, is ‘a response to the modern humanism that European philosophers and scientists have been preparing since the end of the nineteenth century.’ One can infer from this that Senghor’s argument is a defense mechanism of sorts, in response to European compartmentalization and rationalism. It is known that colonial discourse is dominated by the ideas of white men, often alluding to the ‘savagery’ and ‘uncivilized’ nature of colonized peoples- of which Africans form a large part. By speaking of African moral law, ethics, African entwinement with nature, and of conceptions of African unity and peace, Senghor is attempting to redeem the black race from the falsities and racist tendencies of European colonial discourse. Though this defense is justifiable, it only reinforces Fanon’s statement about how the colonized are ‘still performing for the white man’. The added consequence is that Senghor’s appreciation of African self-expression, such as expression through art, is nativist in nature by the way that it streamlines the interpretations that one might have of the art. It limits perspective, and tends to exoticize a specific manifestation of African culture, for example Dogon culture, while not acknowledging the several existing variations of African cultural expression.

Returning to Fanon’s quote about ‘the man who adores the negro…’ it is apparent that Fanon here is referring to the exoticization of the black race, which is something that Senghor’s talk of ‘rhythm’ and ‘harmony’ in African art unintendedly implies. Senghor, one could argue, is engaging in a kind of ‘self-exoticization’ if one interprets his ideas as being about African people as a whole, or rather just exoticization of a particular segment of African people, i.e. a particular nation or tribe. Senghor’s emphasis on shapes, colors, the harmony of forms and movements has a tendency to reduce African identity to ‘appearances,’ which he himself defines as ‘those attributes of matter that strike our senses.’ One would not be mistaken here to ask the question: is the value and worth of the African man or woman dependent on appearances and aesthetics alone? Rather than ridding African people of the European-imposed attitudes of race, Senghor has simply tilted the scale to the other end, giving way to a new form of compartmentalization and reductionism.

To quote Fanon again in Black Skins, White Masks, “I am being dissected under white eyes… I am fixed.” This feeling of fixation is clearly a significant concern and a shared experience among black men and women. The inescapability of their skin and the claustrophobia that accompanies it, is an aspect that Senghor’s Negritude fails to erase. The dichotomies which rest on the fundamental question of race are ever-present in all of these discourses, regardless of whether they are portrayed in a negative or a positive light. While this is of course, not the intent with which Senghor writes, it is a mere consequence of it.

With all things considered, a question that repeatedly comes to mind is: is it justifiable to accuse Senghor of reductionism and collectivism when he speaks of African culture as a singular phenomenon shared across all African people? We have already understood Senghor to be writing from a defensive perspective, employing the concept of negritude as a ‘weapon of emancipation.’ For Senghor, the way to combat racially charged European thought is through the collectivization of the African people into a singular body. Doing so harbors the ultimate consequence of nativism and a failure to recognize African diversity and the richness of the varying African cultures and identities, but one could argue that Senghor’s negritude is at least successful in its intended purpose, i.e. a weapon for human emancipation. The problem is thus the fact of dichotomies: rhythm and order, black and white, emotion and reason. To quote Senghor himself, “Emotion is Negro, as reason is Hellenic.” These contrasting ideas are necessary for one group to define itself against. As long as the concept of race exists, the concept of racial dichotomies will stay.

It is without any doubt that Western scholarship holds a monopoly over the production, publication and distribution of information and ideas, in addition to harboring the power to influence modes of thought and to bring about institutional changes within society by means of ideas alone. This is one of the facts that Mohanty introduces her analysis of Western feminist scholarship with, in an article titled Under Western Eyes: Feminist Scholarship and Colonial Discourses. The piece rests on the assumption that feminist scholarly practices are inscribed in relations of power, which is to say that these practices are inherently political; beset in forwarding, whether intentionally or unintentionally, the agenda of the group at the center. In the writings that Mohanty chooses to analyze, it is first-world women who constitute this center, with third-world women being at the periphery of the debate. First world feminism needs this third world woman subject- this figure of the oppressed third world woman- whose struggles it can appropriate in aiding the forwarding of its own agenda. The problem arises when these Western scholars view and attempt to speak for third-world women with an unchecked degree of ethnocentric universality, which not only misrepresents entire cultures and peoples, but undermines the individual struggles of the women in these societies. Through this biased lens, colonial mindsets are reified, calling then for a ‘white savior’- in this case the first-world feminist- to ‘represent’ the struggles of third-world women who cannot represent themselves. This appropriation of their individual struggles and the suppression of their heterogeneity by hegemonic white women’s movements is what feminist women of color in the U.S. describe as ‘colonization’; a label which begs the question- to what extent is first-world feminism imperialist?

Western or first-world feminist scholars make frequent use of binary analytics in their work, dividing and categorizing people into 2 vastly opposing groups: the powerless and the powerful, victims and oppressors, women and men. What this does, in effect, is group together all women into a single homogenous collective on the basis of shared dependencies or shared oppression. Adding the term ‘third-world’ as a prefix still ignores the fact that experiences, struggles and values differ across the various groups of third-world women. An example given by Mohanty of Western scholars choosing the fact of an institution over the value attached to that institution is that of the marriage ritual of Bemba women. The author in question, Cutrufelli, suggests that Bemba women, as a constituted group, are victims of the institution of marriage. This is an assumption made at face value, but a closer study of Bemba society reveals that the marriage ritual grants the Bemba woman greater rights and privileges than she had before marriage, with the initiation ceremony being ‘the most important act of a woman’s reproductive power.’ Similarly, the American writer and social activist, Fran Hosken, in her writings, equated the purdah with vices such as rape, domestic violence and prostitution, with zero regard for the varying cultural and ideological contexts within which women wore the purdah. Citing the example of Iran in 1979 when the purdah was worn as a symbol of solidarity with the working class, compared to modern day Iran where the purdah is a mandatory Islamic law, Mohanty explains that Western scholars need to exercise care in analyzing the ideological contexts of institutions, rather than jump to conclusions inspired by biased and ethnocentric views of the third world. This phenomenon of defining a single universal direction of progress and advancement, centered around the West, is an example of the colonial impact. What this does is, it invalidates the cultural values of non-Western societies, as well as their individual experiences and struggles. Societies which do not conform to the Western ideal are seen as ‘backward’ and ‘frozen in time’. It is in response to this colonial mindset that national liberation figures advocate for a ‘third way,’ and harbor a desire to redefine what progress means.

The American psychologist and anthropologist, Michelle Zimbalist, casually refers to third-world women in her feminist writings as “ourselves undressed”. By assuming that women in third-world countries share virtually the same difficulties and aspirations that women in first-world countries do, Western feminist scholarship makes the mistake of assuming that it can represent women of all races, classes, religions and castes. This limits the definition of women to gender identity alone, bypassing social class and ethnic identities, and only reinforces the binary of men and women; powerful and powerless subjects. On the other hand, when scholars write about third-world women, there is an even greater sense of ambiguity in the generalized terms that are used to identify the women. The terms ‘Arab women’ and ‘Muslim women’, are used interchangeably as though they denote the same thing, Similarly, the term ‘African women’ has been used by some scholars who are in fact writing about a very specific minority tribe from a country within Africa, inadvertently suggesting that all African women can be summarized and grouped together by a single term. Yet again, the stripping away of the individualities of the non-Western others, seeing them as merely belonging to a greater and generalizable collective, grouping them together by a single descriptive term such as ‘African’, is another example of colonialism at play.

What then is the point of referring to all women as a single homogenous group, and as having an equal share in the struggle of victimhood? As mentioned earlier, the struggles of third-world women, after they are appropriated by feminist scholars, serve as the legitimizers of the universal female struggle, and particularly that of first-world women. Mohanty, however, points out another agenda at play. She writes, ‘it seems evident that Western feminists alone become the true “subjects” of this counter-history. Third world women, on the other hand, never rise above their generality and their “object” status.’ This is the difference between Western feminist ‘self-presentation’ and the ‘re-presentation’ of women in the third world.

Thus, first-world feminist scholarship, through its ethnocentric universality, through its establishment of a homogenous unity among women centered around the West, through its generalizations and through its clouded lens of bias and ignorance towards non-Western cultures, is an imperialist practice. By maintaining, as Mohanty calls it ‘the third-world difference’ and the existing first/third world connections, such writings reinforce the assumption that ‘people in the third world just have not evolved to the extent that the West has.’

‘“Arise the children of starvation; Arise the wretched of the world…” I too, for the first time, felt in the red flag a symbol of victory over the exploiting system.’
From Chains to Lose: Life and Struggles of a Revolutionary by Amir Haider Khan.

In the late 1920s, when Dada Amir Haider Khan was a student at the University of the Peoples of the East in Moscow, the dream of communist internationalism was just that: a dream; albeit one that was being worked towards, and was expected to materialize in the decades to follow. The first five-year plan had yet to be implemented, and there was much work to be done; particularly in the education and training of the working class through newly introduced specialized institutions, and the creation of the ‘new Soviet man’; the selfless, learned, strong ‘ideal’ worker, who would in tandem with his fellow workers, lay the foundations for the rebuilding of the nation following the October revolution. Hence, institutions such as the Swedloff (Communist) University, The Communist University of the Toilers of the East, and the university attended by Dada Amir Haider, existed to serve the purpose of educating and familiarizing the people with a new ideology. These universities, however, were not the only means of ideological cultivation; exposure to socialist ideals was achieved through their representation in art. It was in this era of the late 1920s and early 1930s that the art form termed as ‘socialist realism’ began to gain popularity in the Soviet Union before finally replacing all other art forms, from Avant Garde to constructivist art, as the official state-recognized standard for art in 1934. What set realism apart from other forms of art, was its coherence- its ability to be understood by even those members of the working class who had little or no educational background. At a time when there was a massive influx of political exiles, revolutionaries and refugees from all corners of the earth into Soviet Russia, this quality of realist art proved to be extremely important.

At first glance, we notice a few common themes across these posters. Each of them depicts the idealized workers’ lives, and each of them promotes socialist ideas while portraying them in an optimistic light. Bright smiling faces and theatrical poses were a common trope in these photo-realistic paintings of people. The above two posters were printed in 1930 and 1931 respectively, and depict working men and women, calling upon their fellow comrades to join them on the fields. Socialist art in general marked a transition from the ‘bourgeois’ romanticism of the individual to the romanticism of the collective. The posters sought to establish a sense of brotherhood among the working class; hence they often depicted people of different races harmoniously working together. The University from Dada Amir Khan’s Memoirs, as an example, serves as the embodiment of this multi-ethnic communal lifestyle, where Indians, African-Americans, Englishmen and Europeans lived, studied and dined together in mutual harmony. Art of this nature reflects the socialist ideal that individuals would identify themselves not as belonging to some ethnic group or rank themselves in accordance with their level of education, but would identify themselves as belonging to a greater cause, i.e. the workers’ cause or communist cause.

Even the content that was painted was heavily monitored by the state. Only art which depicted socialism in a positive light was allowed to be published. The two posters above allude to the bright future of the Soviet Union, suggesting not only that everything got better after the revolution, but that it was going to continue to do so. The poster on the left depicts a soviet soldier and a Red Army soldier standing in front of the Soviet flag and Russian flag respectively, holding up a child with the caption “You will live happily.” The second poster is from the 1930s and shows its support for the five-year plans. There were also posters printed emphasizing the importance of education and bearing Lenin’s slogan ‘Hasha Zatcha Yeat – Do Tichissa, Do Tichissa,’ our task is to learn, learn, and learn. In the 1940s, posters bearing resemblance to the American Uncle Sam posters began to appear, directly calling upon workers to join hands in the fight against exploitation.  

One of the more common themes in socialist realist posters was the depiction of everyday people doing everyday things. Each aspect of daily life was represented, as all activities- sport, culture, entertainment and education- had become a part of this new socialist lifestyle. Above are two posters featuring happy families; one is a Hungarian poster depicting a family that is well off after a good harvest. The other poster shows a family listening intently to a radio broadcast with the caption “Listen! Moscow is broadcasting.” In Dada Amir Haider’s memoir, he described the way all activities had been incorporated into the socialist lifestyle; entertainment and sport were very much a part of everyday life, both at the University and at the summer camps.

It was through these propaganda posters, that the archetype known as the ‘New Soviet Man’ or ‘New Soviet Woman’ was introduced. These personalities were thought to develop alongside pure communism, and embodied certain qualities deemed ideal in men and women both. Of particular interest is the way the New Soviet woman was portrayed to take on multiple roles: Communist citizen, full-time worker, wife and mother. The representation of this figure in art signalled a transition from women being seen as the passive beneficiaries of the revolution, to being seen as its securers. The poster on the right from 1942 represents the women of the USSR who sought to serve at the frontlines of the Soviet army. On the left is another poster from the 1940s depicting a smiling working woman. The communist women described by Dada Amir Haider who he encountered in Moscow embody the same characteristics of this ‘new woman’; hardworking, focused and resolved. Sergei Gerasimov’s 1938 painting where he depicted Mother Russia as a peasant woman with no shoes on is indicative of the changed perceptions of working women during the 1930s.

Socialist realism was essentially a means of educating the public; much in the same way that the University of the Peoples of the East was. In Dada Amir Haider’s memoir, he recounts an educational excursion they had to a Czarist prison, where he and his fellow students observed the remnants of the tyrannical ingenuity of the Czarist regime. In the same way, the purpose of the new art of the 1920s, Lenin believed, was to ‘expose the crimes of capitalism and praise socialism.’ Socialist realism existed to address the doubts and uncertainties that prevailed following the establishment of the Soviet State; it attempted to convince the people that this new socialist state, which was still in the making, would be the answer to all their problems.