in each of these two areas.
Some of the ideas developed at the Bandung Conference can be found in authors who, without defining themselves literally as postcolonial writers, may nevertheless be considered as precursors. We particularly have in mind Aimé Césaire and his famous ‘Letter to Maurice Thorez’ (1956), in which he announced his resignation from the French Communist Party and simultaneously denounced the ‘omnilateral’ superiority of the West and the ‘emaciated universalism’ that it promoted. In this letter, we can read a desire to promote ‘cultural relativism’ and regenerate the Caribbean in contact with Black Africa, defined as ‘the mother of our Caribbean culture and civilization’. We can also, conversely, take seriously what Césaire himself says about his aims: a ‘universal’ that would be different from colonial paternalism or the fraternalism of the French Communist Party, a ‘universal’ that would be ‘rich with all particulars’. These two readings constitute one aspect of our discussion of the question of the universal.
In the Anglo-Saxon universe there is another major figure, also claimed today by postcolonials, namely the American-Palestinian writer Edward Said and his celebrated Orientalism (first published in the United States in 1978 and translated into French in 1980).1 In this book, Said drew on the work of Michel Foucault and on the analysis of mainly literary texts to show that the societies of the Near East and the Middle East, as we currently apprehend them, are the result of a construction and projection of Western and colonial stereotypes about social realities that are actually far richer and more complex.
At the crossroads of the French- and English-speaking worlds, and also following in the wake of Foucault’s ideas, was Valentin Mudimbe’s magnum opus: The Invention of Africa (1988).2 In this fundamental work, Mudimbe set out to describe the rigid representations of Africa that then prevailed by forging the concept of the ‘colonial library’, which designated all the knowledge and texts relating to this continent produced by conquerors, missionaries and colonial administrators.
In short, the genealogy of postcolonialism(s) is very varied, and the search for precursors could extend to infinity. However, as far as the development of the postcolonial paradigm is concerned, it is crucial these days to emphasize the importance assumed by meetings and collaborations between researchers and academics from India, Latin America and Africa. These meetings comprise first and foremost, of course, the ways in which these people read each other’s works.
Then there are the physical meetings organized by institutions like CODESRIA3 in Africa, which, twenty years ago, in collaboration with the International Center for Ethnic Studies (ICES) based in Colombo, Sri Lanka, created a review published twice a year and dedicated to dialogue between researchers from Africa and Asia under the title Journal of Identity, Culture & Politics: An Afro-Asian Dialogue. We could also mention the Consejo Latinoamericano de Ciencias Sociales or Latin American Council of Social Sciences (CLACSO) in South America.
Meetings between teachers and researchers from Africa, Asia and Latin America also take place in American universities, where, as is well known, many nationalities are to be found. So postcolonial studies has found a home in the major universities of the United States, giving birth to a whole series of outstanding works, all dominated by the idea, made famous by the American-Indian historian Dipesh Chakrabarty, of ‘provincializing Europe’.4 This involves making Europe one cultural area like any other, that is, rejecting the idea that it has any pre-eminence in the field of knowledge, and thus denying it the privilege of naturally embodying universalism. Instead, it is the plurality of cultural spaces which is affirmed – African, Asian, Native American and Oceanian – as well as the equal dignity of endogenous systems of thought, philosophies, epistemologies and types of knowledge.
In their critiques of Western domination over the rest of the planet, various types of postcolonialism have highlighted the significance of the transatlantic slave trade and colonization in the process of capitalist accumulation. In recent years, this paradigm has, however, also given way to another intellectual configuration, namely the ‘decolonial paradigm’. As part of this new paradigm, the pivotal year for the critique of capitalism is 1492, which simultaneously saw the ‘discovery’ or the ‘invasion’ of America, depending on one’s point of view, and the completion of the ‘Reconquest’ of the Iberian Peninsula by Christian rulers, which involved the end of Muslim Andalusia and the expulsion of the Jews from Spain. The system of domination thereby established is thus seen by decolonial authors not as linked to the ‘Industrial Revolution’ of the eighteenth century, but as arising from the invasion of America, the expulsion of Muslims and Jews from Spain and the subsequent process of ethnic cleansing.
This new intellectual configuration is essentially associated with such Latin American authors as Enrique Dussel, Aníbal Quijano and Ramón Grosfoguel. Like postcolonial writers, they reject Western pre-eminence, and especially Hegelian Marxism, which, through the concept of ‘dialectic’, aims to provide the history of the world with a pre-established, one-directional meaning. Dussel prefers the notion of ‘analectic’, that is, a form of knowledge or an absolute value as expressed, for example, in the Native American concept of ‘Pachamama’. Based on this concept, Grosfoguel shows that we must go beyond a critique of the misdeeds of multinational mining companies and ponder the initial rape of ‘Mother Earth’ that their exploitation of earth’s resources merely prolongs.
These new ‘decolonial’ ideas have found fertile ground in several French writers whose writings bring us back to the aforementioned question about Césaire’s dramatic resignation from the French Communist Party: does the decolonial question lead to prioritizing race over class? In particular, does the role played by the notion of ‘intersectionality’ obscure the class character of race and the social usage of postcoloniality? As the Haitian proverb reminds us: ‘Poor mulatto is Negro, rich Negro is mulatto.’
It will be clear that our dialogue and the contrasting positions it may set out on this or that point have highlighted the question of the universal that can be formulated in these terms: is the postcolonial the first phase of a new universal, one which would be truly universal (as it would be inclusive), or is it, on the contrary, the denial of all universalism, the triumph of the particular and of fragmentation?
This question is linked to that of human rights. In our discussion of these, our conversation highlights a difference of opinion over our assessment of the Kurukan Fuga and the Charter of the Mandé, the reconstructed texts of the oral tradition in which are listed the founding principles on which the Mali Empire, founded in the thirteenth century, was built.
One author, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o, believes that the decolonial approach presupposes that the intellectuals of the continent also express their search for Africa in its languages. ‘Every language,’ he writes, ‘however small, bears its memory of the world.’5 What should we think of the demand to see African languages (maybe in a new light) as languages of creation and science? Are Ngũgĩ’s words and his approach based on a conception of different languages as monads closed off from each other? How are we to understand his assertion that, on the contrary, there is a language of languages and that this language is translation?
Our search for Africa(s) could not of course fail to accord a full and urgent place to the religious question as it arises today, in the Sahel among other places, in all its sound and fury. So we have looked in detail at the historical record and discussed the notion of a West African Islam, peaceful and open, as contrasted with a strict, purist Islam from the Arab North. Does this contrast point to an intellectual and spiritual tradition which, while not specific to West Africa, has nevertheless coloured the Islam of this region? Or is it a variant of colonial discourse and its construction of a ‘Black Islam’? These are the main questions that have been the focus of our discussions on this theme.
These discussions conclude by describing pan-Africanism and its current meaning. What does it mean, now, to re-embark on the pan-African project in an Africa which, despite the serious challenges it
