Contemplating the Inhumanity of Cruel Regimes in Waiting for the Barbarians

The fact that J. M. Coetzee does not use a specific setting, ruling entity or named protagonist in his 1980 novel Waiting for the Barbarians indicates that he is using his work to make a universal interrogation of inhumane regimes, including the system of Apartheid in his home country of South Africa. Coetzee facilitates this examination via his protagonist, a white Magistrate who becomes disillusioned with his “easy years” (9) in a rural settlement, when a high-ranking officer from the Empire tortures and kills an obviously harmless elderly man and traumatizes a young boy. The officer, named Colonel Joll, insists that the man and the boy were thieves who simply needed “pressure” (5) in order to admit their crimes, but the Magistrate knows better. When the Magistrate confirms his suspicions about the Colonel’s torturous tactics, the Magistrate’s life and outlook on the colonizer/colonized relationship is forever changed, sparking in him a great desire for understanding of himself, the barbarians and the merciless Empire soldiers.

The atrocities committed against the elderly man and the boy make the Magistrate question his own identity as a "servant of the Empire" (16). He says of the event that “I know somewhat too much; and from this knowledge, once one has been infected, there seems to be no recovering” (21). In other words, he can no longer claim to be ignorant of the Empire’s tactics after witnessing their barbarous effects. From there, he begins to realize his own unwitting role in the Empire’s actions, confiding that “never before have I had the feeling of not living my own life on my own terms” (40). In other words, despite his distaste for the Empire’s dealings, his own role as magistrate makes him at least partially complicit in those acts. It is only after he leaves his post to meet with the barbarians and is subsequently jailed for treason against the Empire, that he finally feels as though he has broken free of his ties to the ruling entity: “I am aware of the source of my elation: my alliance with the guardians of the Empire is over. I have set myself in opposition, the bond is broken. I am a free man” (78). Coetzee presents interesting irony here. The Magistrate is happier to be jailed and free from his ties to the Empire than to be free but forced to associate with a ruling ideology with which he does not agree.

But, the Magistrate’s quest for understanding does not stop with himself, it reaches beyond himself to the barbarians, as well. He understands that he cannot fully comprehend his role in the colonizer/colonized relationship until he truly understands the “other” in all its complexity. In an effort to come to this understanding, the Magistrate takes in a barbarian woman who has been crippled and blinded by the Empire soldiers. But he learns more about himself than her in the process of trying to help her. He realizes that in fact, “the distance between myself and her torturers ... is negligible” (27). In other words, despite his kindness, he is still a white man who is in a remote way associated with the men who tortured her; therefore she can never truly relate to him as anything but an accomplice. Once again, despite the Magistrate’s decent nature, his interactions with the barbarian woman make it clear that he cannot deny his previous ties to the Empire or his partial culpability for the Empire’s actions.

This leads him to his quest for understanding of Colonel Joll and the Empire soldiers themselves. After the Colonel’s “interrogations,” for example, the Magistrate wonders: “Looking at him I wonder how he felt the very first time: did he … shudder even a little to know that at that instant he was trespassing into the forbidden? I find myself wondering too whether he has a private ritual of purification, carried out behind closed doors, to enable him to return and break bread with other men” (12). The Magistrate here exhibits his own humanity through his examination of Colonel Joll’s lack of it. Here, via the Magistrate’s words, Coetzee voices the thoughts of anyone who reads about or bears witness to these kinds of cruel acts. How can they do it? How can they live with themselves? By using the Magistrate to voice these questions, Coetzee questions all inhumane regimes, including Apartheid.

Work Cited

Coetzee, J.M. Waiting for the Barbarians. United States: Penguin Books, 1982. Print.

Stream of Consciousness as Vehicle for Postmodernist Examination of Perception

In his 1974 collection of two short stories, titled Dusklands, and his 1977 novel In the Heart of the Country, J. M. Coetzee writes in a stream-of-consciousness narrative mode as a way to explore the psyches of his characters and their distorted ways of perceiving the world. As a result of this narrative style, which puts the reader inside the mind of the protagonists in each novel, the reliability of the narrators comes into question when gaps in the narrators’ thinking patterns indicates that their perceptions may be unsound. In this way, Coetzee plays with the idea of reality and consciousness, inferring that perception is untrustworthy because it is subjectively filtered through the thoughts and feelings of the observer. In other words, Coetzee takes a postmodernist look at reality, questioning whether there is one “reality” or whether reality is simply an individual construct based on perception.

In “The Narrative of Jacobus Coetzee,” the second story in Dusklands, the narrator’s reliability falters when in one paragraph he indicates that the Hottentot he is traveling with has died: “[he] went to his death bearing the blanket roll and all the food” (94) and in the next paragraph, he continues the narrative as if the Hottentot were still alive: “The crossing took all of an hour, for we had to probe the bottom before each step…” (94). This break in reality instantly causes the reader to question the narrator’s sanity and the reliability of the rest of the story.

Similarly, in the novel In the Heart of the Country, Magda’s narrative account centers on the death of her father -- how she murdered him, how she buried him and how her life changed after his death. But, seventeen pages from the end of the novel, the narrative shifts and Magda’s thoughts read: “Perhaps I have been mistaken all the time, perhaps my father is not dead after all” (122). From this point forward in the novel, Magda’s narration and the events that transpire are written as if her father is alive. This once again calls into question Magda’s reliability as a narrator and her sanity, leaving the reader to wonder whether the narration up to this point has been merely a series of fantasies or whether the ending is the fantasy and the rest of the novel the truth. Either way, Coetzee’s purpose has been achieved – the lines between reality and fantasy have been blurred. The reader can no longer tell what is truth and what is fiction. In this way, Coetzee’s stream-of-consciousness narrative style is the perfect conduit through which to contemplate the concept of “reality” and the role of individual perception and fantasy in the formation of subjective "truth."

Another way Coetzee achieves this blurring of reality is through the use of repetition – both of events and words. Several times in the novel, Magda contemplates a series of seemingly plausible versions of real scenarios without telling the reader which one is in fact the true occurrence. In Section 236 of the novel, for example, Magda contemplates three explanations for Hendrik’s refusal to return home. In the first scenario, Magda thinks: “Perhaps they did not shoot them out of hand” (122). In the second, she says: “Perhaps they did indeed bring Hendrik back to the farm, to confront me, and I have forgotten” (122) and in the final scenario Magda says: “Perhaps I have been mistaken all the time, perhaps my father is not dead after all” (122). Coetzee’s use of repeated accounts of events here indicates that Magda’s mind is not operating on the level of reality, but on the level of fantasy. The repetition of the word “perhaps” furthers this explanation for her thoughts since the word itself is used to indicate uncertainty. But, does this mean she is mad? Or, like everyone, is she engaging in daydreams as a way to pass the time or create a more pleasurable reality? These are the questions that arise from Coetzee's stream-of-consciousness narrative mode. This narrative style also once again calls into question the authenticity of the story being told and of the sanity of the narrator herself.

One final way that Coetzee plays with reality is through his examination of time. Magda says at one point that she cannot remember what happened the day before: “A day must have intervened here … perhaps I spent it asleep” (79). Once again, her lack of touch with a sense of real time indicates that her way of thinking may be unstable. On the other hand, perhaps the monotony of her life on the farm has merely made the days blend together so that one day seems like the next and no day is particularly memorable. Either way, once again, a “true” explanation of reality is not discernible because Coetzee does not offer it.

Coetzee’s stream of consciousness narrative style calls into question not just Magda and Jacobus’ perception of reality but reality for all of humanity, encouraging readers to contemplate questions such as: Is there any truth to our perceptions or are our perceptions tainted by our consciousness? Or, is there ever really one reality or is it dependent upon the eyes of the beholder? Only by taking his narration inside the minds of his protagonists can Coetzee examine these kinds of postmodernist philosophical questions from such an intimate angle. Ultimately therefore, Coetzee achieves with his stream-of-consciousness narrative form, a richer forum for thought and speculation, thereby raising reader consciousness to a higher level – if indeed “consciousness” really exists.

Works Cited

Coetzee, J.M. Dusklands. New York: Penguin Books, 1974. Print.

---. In the Heart of the Country. United States: Penguin Books, 1982. Print.

Psychological Dissociation in J.M. Coetzee's Dusklands

Dusklands is my favorite of Coetzee's novels and probably the one that I will use for my final project. As a result, I have put together a one-page short posting and a longer, fleshed-out essay. I will post both. Feel free to comment on either.

Dusklands posting -- short

Psychological Dissociation in J.M. Coetzee’s Dusklands

In the opening pages of J.M. Coetzee’s 1974 collection of two short stories, titled Dusklands, a quote from Herman Kahn reads: “It is unreasonable to expect the U.S. Government to obtain [military] pilots who are so appalled by the damage they may be doing that they cannot carry out their missions or become excessively depressed or guilt-ridden." This quote alludes to the emotional and psychological detachment that must occur in order for people to commit extreme acts of violence. Eugene Dawn in “The Vietnam Project” and Jacobus Coetzee in “The Narrative of Jacobus Coetzee” both exemplify this dissociative mentality. By focusing on the psychological defense mechanisms exhibited by characters who commit violent acts, Coetzee is able to critique warfare and its effects on the human psyche. Coetzee uses the characters’ distorted psychology to illustrate that humans must dissociate from reality in order to carry out acts of violence without conscience. This dissociation comes in the form of desensitization, self absorption and delusions of grandeur, inflated sense of purpose and lack of empathy.

Both men speak of their violent acts in a methodical, detached, clinical way. This shows the extent to which they have disconnected from their feelings in order to live with their actions. Both men blame and criticize others while aggrandizing their own sense of self importance, also as a way to justify their violent actions. Both men also insist that their actions do not stem from bloodlust but from a desire to do good in the world. In this way, in their minds their violent acts become not only justified but desirable and even admirable. Finally, both men exhibit a lack of empathy for their victims. By numbing themselves to the suffering of others, they can conduct violent acts without guilt.

Acting without guilt, however, is also the defining trait of sociopaths and psychopaths. Perhaps this is Coetzee’s point – and his criticism. If those who commit acts of violence in warfare are psychopathic, then where is the line between “savage” and “civilized”?

Dusklands posting -- longer

Psychological Dissociation in J.M. Coetzee’s Dusklands

In the opening pages of J.M. Coetzee’s 1974 collection of two short stories, titled Dusklands, a quote from Herman Kahn reads: “It is unreasonable to expect the U.S. Government to obtain [military] pilots who are so appalled by the damage they may be doing that they cannot carry out their missions or become excessively depressed or guilt-ridden." This quote alludes to the emotional and psychological detachment that must occur in order for men to commit extreme acts of violence. Eugene Dawn in “The Vietnam Project” and Jacobus Coetzee in “The Narrative of Jacobus Coetzee,” both exemplify this dissociative mentality. By focusing on the psychological defense mechanisms exhibited by characters who commit violent acts, Coetzee is able to critique warfare and its effects on the human psyche. Coetzee uses the characters’ distorted psychology to illustrate that humans must dissociate from reality in order to carry out acts of violence without conscience. This dissociation comes in the form of desensitization, self absorption and delusions of grandeur, inflated sense of purpose and lack of empathy.

One way Coetzee critiques the effects of warfare on the human psyche is to show the desensitization the two characters exhibit when speaking of their violent acts. The most obvious example of Eugene’s desensitization comes when he stabs his son. He speaks of his actions in a disconnected, clinical way: “Holding it like a pencil, I push the knife in. The child kicks and flails. A long, flat ice-sheet of sound takes place” (42). The fact that he refers to his son as “the child” shows his desensitization. In addition, his detailed description of the way he holds the knife “like a pencil” and his focus on the sound of the knife going in, shows his lack of emotional involvement in the act itself. By speaking of his acts in a neutral, disconnected way and focusing instead on such things as sound and the placement of the knife in his hand, he can downplay the significance of his acts and his part in their consequences. “Jacobus,” too, is desensitized to violence. For example, when speaking of a Bushman he has killed, “Jacobus” says with emotionally unattached finality: “I killed him with a ball through the throat” (60). The matter-of-fact nature of his words here, shows the psychological numbing that has occurred as a result of his repeated violent acts. Like Eugene, “Jacobus” disconnects from the significance of his words as a way to prevent himself from acknowledging the meaning behind their utterances. Coetzee depicts the characters’ desensitization in this way as a means of critiquing the psychological costs of those who commit violent acts.

Coetzee also uses the characters’ self absorption to illustrate the psychological consequences of warfare. For Eugene and “Jacobus,” their self-centeredness and delusions of grandeur help them to psychologically justify their violent actions. The most obvious example of Eugene’s self absorption comes when he stabs his son. When he hears his wife scream, he is so focused on himself, he assumes it is because of her concern for himself: “She need not worry, I am all right” (42). By shifting the focus from his violent act (the stabbing) to his own sense of well-being, he is able to dissociate from his present actions. This self absorption then prevents him from seeing the true reality of his actions and the pain he is causing others.

For “Jacobus,” self absorption comes in the form of delusions of grandeur. By aggrandizing his self worth, he gives himself psychological permission to exert power and violence over others. He becomes so enamored with his own inflated sense of importance, for example, that he adopts a kind of God-like stance when speaking about killing the Hottentots: “I then pronounced sentence of death” (101). Here, his proclamation shows the control and power he has over the lives of others. This power then gives him a sense of entitlement and importance that overrides any kind of rational guilt which might accompany his acts. An even more pronounced example of this comes when he kills an innocent lamb: “Like God in a whirlwind I fell upon a lamb, an innocent little fellow who had never seen his master and was thinking only of a good night’s sleep, and slit his throat” (100). Here, his ability to take the life of another makes him feel all-powerful, even God-like and invincible, thereby preventing any remorse he might feel for his actions. This again illustrates the warped psychology of those who commit repeated acts of violence.

Additionally, both Eugene and “Jacobus” convince themselves of the righteousness of their violent acts as a way to avoid blame for their exploits. This is an additional defense mechanism that Coetzee uses to show the consequences of violence on the human psyche. Eugene, for example, claims that he “hate[s] war as deeply as the next man” but that he “gave [himself] to the war on Vietnam only because I wanted to see it end. I wanted an end to strife and rebellion so that I could be happy, so that we could all be happy” (48). By convincing himself that his actions are purposeful and positive in this way, he can avert culpability for his actions. “Jacobus,” too, claims that he is not a violent man at heart: “no more than any other man do I enjoy killing” (106). Instead, he considers his acts a kind of service to the world: “I have taken it upon myself to be the one to pull the trigger, performing this sacrifice for myself and my countrymen, who exist, and committing upon the dark folk the murders we have all wished. All are guilty, without exception” (106). These words are the ultimate show of justification for his violent acts. If Jacobus can convince himself that “all” are guilty and that his acts are what “all” of society has wished for, then his acts are not only justified but desired and even admirable. Coetzee uses the characters’ inflated sense of purpose as a way of critiquing the psychological consequences of violence and warfare.

Finally, Coetzee uses the characters’ lack of empathy and guilt to show the inherent psychological distortions present in those who perform violent acts. Eugene declares freely that “I have no sense of shame” (46) and that “the design of war made me callous to suffering” (48). With these statements, Eugene admits to distancing himself from the pain of his victims, thereby giving voice to Coetzee’s contention that lack of empathy is a psychological consequence of warfare brutality. Eugene’s lack of empathy becomes even more obvious in the way he treats his son: “Sometimes he cries, sometimes he throws tantrums. When he is too loud I shut him up in the bathroom. Perhaps I am harsh; but I am in no mood for irrational behavior” (38). By blocking himself to his son’s suffering, he can act in cruel ways without regret. “Jacobus” is equally unsympathetic to the suffering of his victims. He says of a Hottentot victim whom he is torturing that “His eyes apologized like a dog’s. I was not upset. He was coming along” (103). This statement shows not only Jacobus’ lack of empathy but his sadistic enjoyment of power over another. By dehumanizing his victim and blocking his own “upset” feelings, “Jacobus” can justify his acts and revel instead in the sense of power the acts give him. By showing the characters’ lack of empathy for others, Coetzee critiques warfare and the psychological ramifications of violent actions.

Each character’s desensitization, self absorption, delusions of grandeur, inflated sense of purpose and lack of empathy prove Coetzee’s point that in order for humanity to commit violent acts, they must dissociate from reality. Moreover, by showing the similar psychological defense mechanisms of two violent characters from different time periods, Coetzee strengthens his argument and shows its universality.

Work Cited

Coetzee, J. M. Dusklands. New York: Penguin Books, 1974. Print.

About Keli Rowley

I am in my last year as an English M.A. student and Teaching Associate at California State University – Northridge. I first became interested in J. M. Coetzee’s work in Dr. Barnard’s African Film and Literature course where we not only examined Coetzee’s work Foe, but also the works of African authors Chinua Achebe, Ousmane Sembène and Ama Ata Aidoo. I am very excited to learn more about Coetzee and his diverse range of works in this seminar class. I also have an interest in South African playwright Athol Fugard’s work, in Donald Woods’ book Biko and in Mark Mathabane’s book Kaffir Boy: An Autobiography – The True Story of a Black Youth’s Coming of Age in Apartheid South Africa.

I am particularly excited to learn about South African culture in relation to Coetzee’s work because I will be vacationing in South Africa for 4 weeks in January. It has been a dream of mine to travel there for many years.

My current research interests include Transnational Africa/African Diaspora Studies, Film and Visual Culture, Culture and Theory, Psychoanalytic theory, Literature of Human Rights, Representations of Evil in Literature, Dystopian Sci-Fi and Pedagogy. I plan to begin a Ph.D. program in literature in Fall 2012.

Nobel Lecture by J. M. Coetzee - Media Player at Nobelprize.org

Nobel Lecture by J. M. Coetzee - Media Player at Nobelprize.org