Crecimiento firme y tipo de deuda: la paradoja de la discrecionalidad

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I discuss this dimension of Lamb’s argument, and of Pakeha politics generally, more extensively in Bell (2004a, forthcoming).

For Maori, Bhabha’s performative hybridity offers a means to deconstruct the position of essentialised authenticity offered within settler colonial discourse, at the same time ‘unsettling’ the ground of settler subjectivity. However, for indigenous peoples Bhabha’s theory is problematic at the very point of its strength in relation to the settler - in the correlation of hybridity and the ‘unhomely’. To the extent that Bhabha’s theory is grounded in the conditions of enunciation, no one is ‘at home’. In a context in which a fractured and destabilised identity is understood as the outcome of colonisation, the idea that this is a condition to be embraced is difficult to reconcile. Rather, indigenous peoples, as Smith (1999:97) points out, are in the process of ‘recovery’ and ‘home- making’ rather than their opposites.

The concept of ‘unhomeliness’ does however illuminate the experience of indigenous peoples living under colonisation. To live in a social context of domination by another culture, language and worldview is to have repeated experiences of displacement and disorientation. O’Neill (1993:282), for example, identifies ‘unhomeliness’ within the characterisation of Maori in Hulme’s fiction. More extensively, Matahaere-Atariki (see 1997, in particular) has utilised the homely/unhomely pair in her critique of decolonisation strategies that rely on essentialist representations of Maori authenticity. Authentic indigeneity, she argues, reproduces the violence of colonialism by repeating the ‘pure native subject’ which is integral to the colonial project (Matahaere-Atariki, 1997:15). Biculturalism, similarly, works to reduce Maori identity to a set of characteristics ‘different from’ and thus also supporting Pakeha identity (Matahaere, 1995:16-7). Matahaere-Atariki identifies the cost of adherence to Maori authenticity in terms of the now familiar problems of the authentic/inauthentic divide and the resulting exclusions of many from the status of ‘real’ Maori.84

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Matahaere-Atariki (see for example, 1997:62-4) is particularly concerned to bring to light the existence of the ‘authentically inauthentic’ ‘southern Tahu women’ who remain landless without having migrated to the cities and who cannot identify with authentic Maori identity.

Thus, she argues, the valorisation of Maori authenticity both colludes with and ignores the history of colonialism (Matahaere-Atariki, 1997:44-57). Matahaere-Atariki’s analysis suggests that Maori adherence to authentic tradition represents a redemption fantasy that parallels that of Pakeha. For both peoples the continuing existence of Maori authenticity can work as evidence that colonisation didn’t happen or, at least, did no harm.

Matahaere-Atariki asserts a post-colonial and poststructuralist theorisation of identity in preference to an essentialist authenticity which assumes

that all we need to do is shake off the trappings of colonialism and [Maori woman] will be there in all her former natural/experiential glory. The truth is we have never always just been. Meanings around Woman are contestable, psychically, culturally and politically (Matahaere-Atariki, 1997:6-7).

It is this type of constructionist theorisation which she pursues to answer her question: ‘What strategies can be put in place to resist the easy sliding together of identity and culture that reproduce the violence of colonialism?’ (Matahaere-Atariki, 1997:9). It is in her post-colonial/poststructural turn that she makes use of the concept of the unhomely:

[E]ffective programmes for decolonisation need to reject the notion that there is a “home” that we can inhabit that will protect us from the continuing effects of colonisation. This for me is simply a romantic myth that is especially offensive given the realisation that this conceals the very real effects of colonisation. It also reminds me that I do not have a home to return to that was not inhabited years ago (Matahaere-Atariki, 1997:29).

Viewing contemporary Maori identities in terms of their unhomeliness works to expose and remember the impact of colonialism and makes space for the inclusion of the Maori ‘self-as-survivor under colonialism’ (Matahaere-Atariki, 1997:49). This self, for Matahaere-Atariki (1998:74), is exemplified by Southern Tahu women

caught between the gaze that represents her and an image that is supposed to be her ... She cannot feel nostalgia for an image that was never her and is wary of an official discourse that continues to falsify and reinvent her reality as M_ori woman.

Clea Te Kawehau Hoskins makes the same point when she says,

I have used the term “insider” myself in self description as a way of defining my politics and loyalties as a Maori woman ... However I am always critically conscious that as a Maori woman in a “post”-colonial environment I am an “outsider” too. Colonisation has meant that I “necessarily look in from the outside while also looking out from the inside. Not quite the same, not quite the

other ... in that undetermined threshold place where she constantly drifts in and out”. What is required for our reconstructive work as Maori is the development of and engagement with notions of identity which acknowledge and provide space for our multiplicity, our contradictions, and our difference as people, while at the same time affirming and encouraging our sameness (Te Kawehau Hoskins, 1997:30, quote from Trinh T. Minh-ha).

While Te Kawehau Hoskins asserts the hybridity and ‘between-ness’ of Maori, she is also committed to a project of ‘reconstruction’, albeit one that does justice rather than violence to that diversity.

The reconstruction in multiplicity that Te Kawehau Hoskins calls for is widely evident in Maori society as discussed in Chapter Three. To recap how this multiplicity might remember as well as recover from colonisation - the existence of urban marae and urban Maori organisations, for example, are arguably testimony to the disruptions and dislocations of colonisation, but also to Maori desire and need for new ‘home-building’ in the present. Here a return to Peter Calder’s profile of Nick Pataka illustrates this development and the link between the pre-colonial and post-colonial in contemporary Maori identities:

Nick Pataka can reel off his whakapapa (genealogy) with the best of them ... “But I never knew any of that stuff till I came here [Waipareira]” he says ... His story is an achingly familiar one: he hit Auckland as a provincial teenager “with seven ounces of dope in my pocket and thought I was going to make my fortune ... [M]y life was using people and hurting people and I’ve spent 10 years balancing the ledger.” For all his awareness of his roots, he belongs proudly to an urban iwi and the Government’s plan to give recognition to the West Auckland Waipareira Trust legitimises what has been his reality for a long time. It began the day a kaumatua embraced him. The sensation was unfamiliar and magic, and said, “You’re going to be all right, boy”. “I felt like I belonged”, he says. “That’s where the climb back up began”. The freckles across his Maori features betray Mr Pataka’s Scottish and Irish blood - “I call myself the consummate Kiwi,” he says with a big smile - but his identity transcends his bloodline. “I’m proud of being an urban Maori. It made me what I am today”

(Calder, in New Zealand Herald, 13/5/99, pA3).

Pataka’s story reflects the experience of the dislocating effects of colonisation as well as common teenage difficulties, but the references to ‘belonging’ and ‘climbing back up’ indicate also a rejection of Bhabha’s assertion of the value of ‘homelessness’ in favour of the possibility and desirability of building new ‘homes’ in and for the present. Further, it is via this new ‘home’, within an urban Maori community, that Pataka has been facilitated in learning also about the tribal origins that link him to a pre-colonial Maori world. Such accounts indicate that the ‘traditional’ and the ‘modern’ can both contribute to the individual’s sense of cultural identity.

While colonisation has displaced indigenous peoples from their pre-colonial homes, there are clearly problems with aspects of Bhabha’s ‘unhomely hybridity’ for indigenous peoples.85

Further, the relationship to place is central to Maori identity and political claims. The Maori term which captures their status as indigenous peoples is t_ngata whenua, Firstly, as there is no originary enunciation of identity, neither do cultures have origins. Bhabha is not interested in origins because he considers that origins become claims to exclusivity and essence. Secondly, while Bhabha emphasises unhomeliness as a temporal experience, the ‘uncanny moment’ (Bhabha, 1990a:312), the ‘unhomely’ is also a spatial metaphor (cf. Mohanram’s analysis above) linking the instability of identity claims to the spatialised experience of the migrant being ‘out of place’. While this resonates with Matahaere-Atariki’s (1997:29) assertion that she has no home ‘that was not inhabited years ago’, it does not resonate with the experience of all Maori, nor with Maori desires for ‘recovery’. In contrast, for example, the representation of Pataka’s identity is clearly located in multiple places, or ‘homes’, and with a clear history of origins and transformations; his whakapapa is briefly given with his home marae, maunga and awa, his identification with Waipareira is emphasized, and his national identity as a ‘Kiwi’ is acknowledged.

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These problems also apply more generally. Leela Gandhi (1998:132), for example, points to the different experience of being ‘not at home’ of the refugee and the middle-class, professional cosmopolitan. Also see Fiona Allon (2000:278) for a critique of the tendency to assume an equation between unhomeliness and political progressiveness and between ‘rooted-ness’ and conservatism.

literally, ‘people of the land’ and ‘home’ is conceptualised as t_rangawaewae, ‘a place to stand’. To the extent that the concept of ‘unhomeliness’ denies or ignores this, it is problematic, even dangerous. The central colonising practice of settler societies such as New Zealand was/is the alienation of land from the indigenes. This is the ‘original sin’ of the settlers (see Lamb, 1986), in New Zealand’s case in direct contravention to the contract established in Article Two of the Treaty of Waitangi, which guaranteed the Maori signatories’ rights to their property. Hence, struggling for acknowledgement of that breach of contract and to reclaim land are major planks of Maori politics of decolonisation, or of resistant Maori agency. In this context ‘unhomeliness’ does not offer a way forward, although its ‘origins’ in colonisation and its effects on contemporary Maori can illuminate the costs of colonisation.

Bhabha’s theory also seems to call for a ‘presentist’ sense of identity. It is too simple to say that it is ahistorical, since he considers that hybridity and unhomeliness can disrupt dominating historical narratives and bring to light new versions of history. However, identity as performative and resistant is always in a relation to the past that is disruptive rather than continuous. Bhabha would seek to interrogate, rather than to ‘affirm’ history: The implication of this enunciative split for cultural analysis that I especially want to emphasize is its temporal dimension. The splitting of the subject of enunciation destroys the logics of synchronicity and evolution which traditionally authorize the subject of cultural knowledge ... The intervention of the Third Space of enunciation, which makes the structure of meaning and reference an ambivalent process, destroys this mirror of representation in which cultural knowledge is customarily revealed as an integrated, open, expanding code. Such an intervention quite properly challenges our sense of the historical identity of culture as a homogenizing, unifying force, authenticated by the originary Past, kept alive in the national tradition of the People (Bhabha, 1994:36-7).

In contrast, for Maori, holding onto a cultural past prior to colonisation is crucial to surviving as a people in the present, to having a distinctive cultural identity. Maori identity depends on at least a degree of continuity with a pre-colonial past. It is arguably the colonial relationship of domination that leads to the idealisation and essentialisation

of that past, rather than the practice of remembering and the practice of tradition themselves. Against Bhabha, it may be possible for claims to historical continuity and

the histories of colonial trauma and displacement to be combined, as Pataka’s autobiography suggests.

Conclusion

Colonisation is a process of displacement for both colonisers and colonised and the traces of this displacement are still apparent in the identity constructions of Maori and Pakeha. It is in bringing this sense of displacement to the fore that Bhabha’s performative and unhomely conception of hybridity is most productive in the settler/indigene context. Framed in terms of ‘unhomeliness’ and ‘unsettlement’, Bhabha’s performative hybridity highlights the disruptions of colonisation and its ultimate failure to re-place the indigenous world with a settler one. Rather, both co-exist in partialised and truncated fashion. Bhabha’s attack on essentialist accounts of cultural identities points theoretically and textually beyond colonising hierarchies of essence and unpacks the ways in which identity is constructed through difference. As Nikos Papastergiadis (2000:170) says,

[t]he positive feature of hybridity is that it invariably acknowledges that identity is constructed through a negotiation of difference, and that the presence of fissures, gaps and contradictions is not necessarily a sign of failure. In its most radical form, the concept also stresses that identity is not the combination, accumulation, fusion or synthesis of various components, but an energy field of different forces. Hybridity is not confined to a cataloguing of difference. Its ‘unity’ is not found in the sum of its parts, but emerges from the process of opening what Homi Bhabha has called, a ‘third space’, within which other elements encounter and transform each other.

It is in outlining that discursive ‘energy field of different forces’ that Bhabha is at his best.

However, while Bhabha’s critical, performative approach offers a powerful mode of deconstructive analysis, it is lacking as a prescription for an alternative form of cross-

cultural relation between coloniser and colonised. While Bhabha invokes the image of cross-cultural solidarity, it is difficult to see how solidarity might arise from this theory of identity. His theorisation of ‘a radical heterogeneity, discontinuity, the permanent revolution of forms’ (Young, 1995:25), takes discursive resistance to its limits, but offers little insight into a ‘positive’ alternative mode of interaction. In this regard, Bhabha’s discursive focus is relevant. He has been criticised for limiting his analysis to the workings of colonial discourse and consequently ignoring the very real material impacts of colonisation (see for example, Parry, 1994b:11; Rose, 1995:371-2). While this is true of Bhabha’s work (and also mine in this thesis), I agree with Young (1995:163) that this criticism involves ‘a form of category mistake’.86

In sum, Bhabha’s rejection of essentialism extends to a rejection of all ‘positivity’ or ‘substance’ in identity claims.

Both discursive and material analyses are valid and can complement each other. However, what Bhabha’s discursive orientation does mean is a focus on the relations between self and discourse, rather than self and other. In this sense, for all his desire to replace the conception of ‘culture as epistemology’ for one of ‘culture as enunciation’ (Bhabha, 1994:177), Bhabha’s work continues to operate on the epistemological terrain. His theory of enunciative/performative hybridity refers to the repetition/iteration of epistemology as a strategy of ‘unsettlement’ but does not shift from the realm of epistemology per se. Further, discourse for Bhabha is always a site of power to be resisted. Given both the focus on the relation between the self and discourse and the emphasis on resistance as the mode of that relation, it is difficult to discern how a non- colonial, solidaristic relation might be formed.

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‘The investigation of the discursive construction of colonialism does not seek to replace or exclude other forms of analysis, whether they be historical, geographical, economic, military or political ... the contribution of colonial-discourse analysis is that it provides a significant framework for that other work by emphasizing that all perspectives on colonialism share and have to deal with a common discursive medium which was also that of colonialism itself: the language used to enact, enforce, describe or analyse colonialism is not transparent, innocent, ahistorical or simply instrumental. Colonial-discourse analysis can therefore ... emphasize the ways in which colonialism involved not just a military or economic activity, but permeated forms of knowledge, which, if unchallenged, may continue to be the very ones through which we try to understand colonialism itself’ (Young, 1995:163).

As Gillian Rose (1995:371) says, ‘[t]his is politics as

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As Norris (1993:24, cited in Parry, 1994b:14) argues, his processual orientation leaves no room for the ‘stubborn facticity’ of difference. In this sense, his theory threatens to collapse into

process, as performance, committed to no essential thing, no pregiven object, no absolute cause but the pursuit of displacement’. As a critical intervention into hegemonic politics, this may work as a powerful strategy to undermine dominant authority. It is in this sense that it can serve both Maori and Pakeha post-colonial critics. However, while performative hybridity is compatible with the post-colonising Pakeha project of disrupting settlement and ‘put[ting] by the project of self-collection’ (Lamb, 1986:357), as discussed above, it serves Maori post-colonising projects less well. The prohibition on positivity allows for no ‘settled’ relation to place and no continuist relation to history. For Maori, as indigenes, performative hybridity seems to continue the disruption of colonisation, rather than represent a constructive response to it. Ultimately, given Bhabha’s focus on the structures of colonial discourse and subjectivities, his argument doesn’t move beyond the bounds of colonial discourse. Rather than offer a way out, the major value of his work lies in showing colonialism’s discursive limits.

incoherence, in that, it is the differences of coloniser and colonised, like the differences of iteration and reiteration, that account for the ‘between’, or the disjunctions, of the hybrid moment. Arguably, despite his radical indeterminacy, substance, the content of difference, slips back in.

Finally, without some sense of substantive identity/difference there seems no basis for cultural politics at all. While Bhabha deconstructs discourse, we continue even so to speak, to construct, to represent ourselves and others in discourse. As Spivak (1990:109, 1996:6) argues, the pursuit of a political programme depends on the representation of identities, rather than their deconstruction. These processes of representation and, more importantly, the intersubjective relations they mediate, cannot be ignored or viewed purely in terms of domination and resistance. For Maori in particular, a basis for identity politics is crucial. The discussion of this thesis to this point leaves Maori in a ‘Catch-22’ situation, in which all of the theories of identity discussed so far have the potential to be