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The timeline of black agency has
been determined to a great extent in the last six centuries by the need to
overcome man-made historical impediments, notably slavery, racism, colonialism,
neocolonialism – and their new forms in the present – on the one hand, and the
necessity to validate the black world’s contributions to what black luminaries
like Aimé Césaire and Léopold Sédar Senghor have described as the “civilization
de l’universel” on the other hand. This imperative of rehabilitating the black
subject and relocating her within what Sylvia Wynter calls the sign of “Man”
has taken such diverse routes as Indigénisme, the Harlem Renaissance,
Pan-Africanism, Négritude, the Civil Rights movement, decolonization,
liberation struggles/wars, and the anti-apartheid struggle. While some of these
routes of black agency were largely discursive, some were praxilic, and some
others were a combination of discourse and praxis. What united them was their
overarching force of interpellation across global black communities. They were
all grands récits that transcended their own immediate contexts of
articulation to become transnational sites of black self-fashioning through a
strategy based largely on the creation of an imagined community of black
memory.
The fault lines of these strategies
became manifest shortly after the independence era in Africa. At that point,
the identitarian claims and the politics of the nation-state combined with the
contested nature of memory to problematize and unhinge transnational black
modes of affiliation and identification, which were organized around race and
history. The nation-state, for instance, instituted an order of localized
identities which was incompatible with the oneiric impulses of a transcendental
black globality. For example, pan-African nationalists of the pre-independence
era increasingly became Ghanaian, Nigerian, or Kenyan nationalists as national
imaginaries and narratives emerged. The postcolonial irrationalities of the African
state, which considerably weakened its national identity myths and created room
for the reinforcement of ethnic identities, did not help matters. The pressures
of localization in the arena of identity had the principal consequence of
undermining the seamless globality of black memory and history. In this
context, Countee Cullens’s “What is Africa to Me?”, a question that the
generation of W.E.B du Bois answered very unambiguously by projecting Africa as
a romanticized ancestral home became, for subsequent generations of African
Americans, the guilty location of greedy, venal, and inhuman ancestors who
“sold our ancestors” to slavery. The romanticized Guinée of the
Indigénistes, depicted so poignantly in Euzhan Palcy’s film, Sugar Cane
Alley, became, for subsequent generations of Caribbean blacks, an absurd
collection of rickety nation-states whose sorry fortunes in the modern world
make continental Africans look like subjects evolving into a Hobbesian
universe.
These conditions inaugurated an order
of conceptual delinking from the idea of a black globality in ways so radical
as to render the relationship between Africa and her diaspora fractious at
best. It is only in such invidious conditions that Paul Gilroy’s project in The
Black Atlantic could have had the resonance it had in the Academy. The
book’s subterranean ideology seems to be the idea of a black diasporic world
shorn of its roots in Africa. Paul Gilroy’s logic is also implicitly at work in
some of August Wilson’s plays, where the idea of African American roots seems
only traceable to the floor of the Atlantic Ocean – the mythical City of Bones
– and not beyond. With Wilson and Gilroy, black history seems to start in
medias res in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Alex Haley’s Kunta Kinte is
advised not to look beyond the Middle Passage for his roots! But these are only
the positive dimensions of the conceptual split in black globality. Worse is to
come with the Keith Richburg of Out of America: A Black Man Confronts Africa
and the Henry Louis Gates Jnr of Wonders of the African World. In
these two instances, the split is total and the sentiments projected on Africa
range from inculpation (why did you sell us?) to revulsion and outright spite.
This split is, of course, mirrored in curricular trajectories that sequester
African and Africana studies in separate universes in academia. In some North
American Universities, Africanists and Africana studies specialists must
struggle for the rare handshake across formidable disciplinary Berlin Walls.
Against this background, the
emergence and rise of Barack Hussein Obama is arguably the single most
important inflatus for the transcendence of this split and the resurgence of a
new kind of black globality in the 21st century. For Obama is both
subject and sign. Influenced by Ferdinand de Saussure, only structuralists
dared to elevate the sign above the subject. Yet the sign, Obama, leaves one
with little choice than to risk this dangerous structuralist maneuver.
Obama-as-sign inaugurates the moment of a transnational black consciousness not
necessarily moored on contested memories and histories but on new, hitherto
unimaginable possibilities and directions in blackdom. Within the schemes of
globalization and transnational capitalism, where subjecthood is increasingly
determined by the propinquities of MAC (mutually assured connectivity), it is
significant that the iconic sign around which a new global black consciousness
has begun to coalesce is an ontological summary of the orders of the moment: black
but biracial; at once African and African American; Westerner but Other;
Christian sired by a Moslem father; American with marginalized childhood
localizations in Hawaii and Indonesia; elitist (Harvard) but rooted in the
plebeian lore of Chicago’s South Side! This sign is métissage ad infinitum.
The pluralized integument of this
sign, the planetarity of its scopic regime, its constantly unfolding
dimensions, is what makes it so apt a metaphor for the readiness of a race that
has been despised and excluded for so many centuries to stake a decisive claim
to the White House - the last bastion of the first person narrator of modernity
and the post-Cartesian appropriator of History, the Western White male. The
transcendence of the Obama sign is implicit in the rallying cry – yes we can!
Beyond its immediate function as a vivifying chant for campaign rallies lies a
deeper imbrication in black aesthetics. Watching Obama declaim the yes-we-can
chant in the frenzied cadence of black southern pulpit performance is to be in
presence of the choric, antiphonal call-and-response morphology of black oral
performance, especially in Africa. “No, you can’t!” has, for five centuries,
been the life-force of modernity’s negation of black agency. The Obama sign
offers a choric, antiphonal negation of an original negation. And the
consequences have been formidable, unlike past attempts by the black world to
negate the negation. Over a century ago, one black man, W.E.B du Bois, posited
that race would be the dominant question of the 20th century. In
“yes we can!”, another black man opens the first decade of the 21st
century with a dominant affirmation of possibilities. The historical
significance of this sign explains why Obama-the-subject’s pragmatic and
politically necessary post-racial discourse and mien in the United States has
cut no ice with his audiences in Africa and the black diasporic world. These
audiences are interpellated by Obama-the-sign as the site of a new black
globality and a new black consciousness. And, for them, that sign is
unapologetically black. It is not post-racial. It needs not be.
The distinction between sign and
subject is a crucial one to keep in mind in order to be able to engage the
Obama phenomenon adequately. Recognition of this crucial distinction is what
defines the responsibilities of the black intellectual as an interpreter of the
Obama moment. Let me enter a crucial point here. I have zero sympathy for
meretricious claims to intellectual objectivity or non-partisanship by those
who have failed, tragically, in their duties as interpreters of blackdom’s
opening act in the 21st century. Only the most absurd understanding
of the nature of intellection would blind anyone to the fact that intellectual
enunciation and non-partisanship is a kindergarten oxymoron. I have no patience
with the unimplicated intellectual.
This clarification is essential as I
attempt to shed some light on what a good number of African and black diasporic
intellectuals who opted for Hillary Clinton got wrong in terms of the
responsibilities of the intellectual, the black intellectual. As the Obama
drama unfolded, the internet (listservs, blogs, ejournals, eMags, online
newspapers, African and black diasporic chat rooms, etc) was awash with the
hand-wringing treatises of avowed black Hillaphiles. Some American Africans,
especially Nigerian-Americans, were particularly obstreperous, weeping louder
than the bereaved in their support of Hillary Clinton and their disavowal of
Obama. They offered unsolicited explanations and rationalizations of their
political choices even as Billary’s too clever by half interjection of race and
racism into the entire process increasingly made their positions slippery.
What stood out in their submissions
was the facile assumption that their support of a White female candidate was
evidence of (1) their newly acquired sophistication as superior human beings
who have transcended race as opposed to the black/African supporters of Obama
who, in their estimation, are still slaves to the congenital interpellations of
race and ethnicity; (2) their sophisticated status as objective, unimplicated,
non-partisan intellectuals, insofar as non-partisan is read as
non-identification with their racial kind. As they pushed these positions, they
almost always concentrated on the individualized proclivities of politics and
choice. They tragically misread the 2008 Democratic primaries as a mere
political contest between two candidates.
It was a bad time to take a
sabbatical from discernment. A bad time to fail to see the obvious fact that
one of the candidates had become subject and sign. They failed to see that what
galvanized folks from Nigeria to Saint Lucia, from Kenya to South Carolina,
from South Africa to Bahia de Salvadore, was the sign and not the subject. In
their histrionic quest to perform their subjecthood as postmodern African
American and American African citizens of the United States who, unlike the
rest of us, are above race, they failed to see that Obama-the-subject has
little to do with, and absolutely no control over Obama-the-sign. Above all,
they failed to understand the historicity of the sign. Follow the
sign! This sign is history, not politics, as Tavis Smiley and BET founder,
Bob Johnson, found out a tad late. Whether Obama eventually becomes the first
black President of the United States or not is a mute point. What is important
is the historical moment and order, which the sign he unleashed has inaugurated
for the black race. And the black intellectual is called upon to be the first
interpreter of that moment. Failing to read history correctly is excusable.
However, does any black person who carries the tag, “intellectual”, have the
right to fail to read history at all?
* Full text of my contribution to
the Obama symposium organized by The Zeleza Post. For the full
symposium, see http://www.zeleza.com/symposium/577
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Posted by Robot| 16.07.2008 21:20