Duke University Press Twentieth Century Literature
Duke University Press Twentieth Century Literature
Duke University Press Twentieth Century Literature
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Twentieth Century Literature
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Apocalyptic Narratives:
The Nation in Salman Rushdie's
Midnight's Children
TERESA HEFFERNAN
Thus the veil had to fall so that with it the strongholds of reactionar-
ies preventing women from being educated and participating in pub-
lic life would fall.
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RUSHDIE'S MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN
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TWENTIETH CENTURY LITERATURE
club: "Indians are not allowed into the Chandrapore Club even as gu
(41). Significantly, he is later able to extend an invitation to Adela and M
Moore to "be Moslems together" on the train because membership in
Islamic nation-the umma-is not restricted by birth (130).
In Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children, Saleem Sinai also draws on th
revolutionary legacy of apocalyptic nationalism as an obvious frame f
account of India's struggle of liberation: "I shall have to write the future
have written the past, to set it down with the absolute certainty of a prop
(462). Readings of Midnight's Children either insist on Rushdie's alleg
to nationalism-Josna Rege, for example, suggests that "[d]espite its
ceptual freshness and vitality, Midnight's Children remains very emotion
committed to the narrative of the nation" (366) and that the novel "r
ticizes the Congress Party ideal of 'unity in diversity"' (360)-or, alt
tively, insist that Rushdie is disillusioned not with the nation per se but
the corruption of the postcolonial nation, because those who came to
it were, as Timothy Brennan puts it, "sell-outs and power brokers" (27). H
ever, in this paper, I want to argue that Midnight's Children, in recastin
and drawing on Forster's skepticism, is from the outset suspicious o
very model-with its apocalyptic underpinnings-of the modern nati
Discontented with the narrative of origins and ends implicit in this m
the novel explores an alternative, though equally apocalyptic, conce
the nation, the Islamic umma. However, this paper concludes, securing th
models is the figure of the (un)veiled woman, who tacitly calls into
tion the very apocalyptic language of "unveiling" on which they both res
Like Revelation, the narrative of the modern nation envisions the era
cation of margins and the closing of gaps in the formation of a commun
that emerges at the end of history; cutting across class, race, languag
gender boundaries, a national boundary circumscribes differences. Sa
as the chronicler of the nation, insists on the idea of community as a "m
ing of voices" in a contained space. He writes: "To understand just on
you have to swallow the world" (109). Frederic Jameson argues that
precisely this sense of community that distinguishes Third World literat
from the private, individualistic, fragmented, and alienated narrativ
America. The novel, a child of Western capitalism, he contests, is bor
of the radical split between private and public; however, in the Third Wo
the novel resolves this division necessarily by taking the form of "na
allegories," "where the telling of the individual story and the individual
perience cannot but ultimately involve the whole labourious telling o
experience of the collectivity itself' (85). Saleem, however, suggests that
process of "telling the experience of the collectivity" is quite a bit more
plicated than Jameson suggests.4 Even as Saleem invokes the metaph
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RUSHDIE'S MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN
The "unity of common faith and culture" and the sense of destiny mas-
querade as tradition but draw directly on the legacy of the modern myth of
the nation. Nehru's invocation of India as destiny recalls, according to
Anderson, one of the defining features of the modern nation. While na-
tions are born in Europe at the dusk of the religious age, they are more
than a rational construct. The mythic dimension of the nation provides a
sense of continuity, destiny, and meaning that fills the void left by religion.
Hence, while
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TWENTIETH CENTURY LITERATURE
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RUSHDIE'S MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN
Safwan, and Saleem's namesake, Khalid ibn Sinan), it never has: "Pr
are not always false simply because they are overtaken, and swallo
by history" (305).
Saddled with the task of accommodating diversity within the boun
a unified narrative of the nation and motivated by his own imminent
lution, Saleem battles to narrate an official version of history but is p
by some of the problems inherent in the task: how can he both cl
represent the teeming multitudes he has ingested and acknowled
other voices have been excluded, "swallowed up, by history"? In other
how tenable is India's nationalist slogan "unity in diversity" that Saleem
so desperately to adhere to in his narrative of independence? As com
as Saleem is to writing a chronological history of India, the crush
conflicting stories, which must be ignored in order for Saleem's n
to secure its origin and reach its end, force Saleem to ask, "if I began
would I, too, end in a different place?" (427). Saleem, like India, be
crack under the pressure of "unifying" the multitudes:
But how can I, look at me, I'm tearing myself apart, can't e
agree with myself, talking arguing like a wild fellow, crackin
memory going, yes, memory plunging into chasms and being
lowed by the dark, only fragments remain, none of it make
any more!-But I mustn't presume to judge; must simply con
(having once begun) until the end. (421)
The problem Saleem is having with the chronological ordering
narrative, of having no time for digressions (other stories) becaus
pressure of telling the central story-which introduces the whole
of origins and endings and centers and margins in the documentin
history of the nation-is imported, like the novel genre itself, from an
time and place. In Laurence Sterne's eighteenth-century novel Tr
Shandy, which foregrounds the implicit tensions in the Enlighte
project, the narrator faces the dilemma inherited by Saleem: "For, if h
author] begins a digression,-from that moment, I observe, his who
stands stock-still;-and if he goes on with his main work,-then the
end to the digression" (73). Sterne's work offers a critique of th
emerging genre of the novel and the very idea on which the novel
the interior private and autonomous bourgeois self, a construction
that introduces, as Karl Marx claims in "On the Jewish Question"
this paper will return to), the split between the private and public self
is at the crux of the modern nation and its citizen/state divide.
Since Saleem is stuck in this divide and tries to reconcile the sense of
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TWENTIETH CENTURY LITERATURE
his private self that will mirror perfectly that of his community (hence his
absurd attempts to connect his personal life with the more widely publi-
cized "official" version of India), perhaps we should turn to the likely origin
of this divide. It is after all "Mountbatten's ticktock ... English-made" (106)
that has fathered the children of midnight, "the children of the time: fathered,
you understand, by history" (118). We cannot fully understand Saleem's
problem from the vantage point of a country where "'yesterday' is the same
as their word for 'tomorrow"' (106). To understand the idea of a nation's
history as progress (as measured by a British clock), which has catapulted
Saleem into the narrative dilemmas posed by the oppositions progress/di-
gression, center/margin, private/public, we have to go elsewhere, to an-
other prophesy on the end of history.
What we may be witnessing is not just the end of the Cold War, or
the passing of a particular period of postwar history, but the end of
history as such: that is, the end point of mankind's ideological evo-
lution and the universalization of Western liberal democracy as the
final form of human government. ("End of History" 4)
Fukuyama's victory speech, which draws on secular apocalyptic rhetoric in
the name of universal man, makes us ask an important question about rights:
is it merely a question of extending and readjusting the rights of man to
accommodate what has historically been left out, as Fukuyama suggests, or
are the rights of man legitimated in and by bounded narratives? John Stuart
Mill pondered the paradox of rights, with respect to imperialism, in his es-
say "On Liberty": "I as a liberal, democratic, individually autonomous En-
glishman, am in a very invidious position, because I am a democrat at home
and a despot abroad." Homi Bhabha points to this passage in Mill as evi-
dence of the contradictions inherent in the Enlightenment project (27).
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RUSHDIE'S MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN
Toni Morrison has drawn out "the historical connection between the En-
lightenment and the institution of slavery-the rights of man and his en
slavement" (42). Mary Astell asked in 1730 "If all Men are born Free, how is it
that all Women are born Slaves?" (107). And Fatima Mernissi asked of the
American government, after the "othering" of the Arab that legitimated the
Gulf War in 1991, "Can one trumpet universality and erect frontiers at the
same time?" (168). Fukuyama himself uncritically repeats this pattern of a
bounded narrative of rights when he insists on locating the origin of "uni
versal man" in Europe and on exempting some from his definition of man
kind, arguing that "it matters very little what strange thoughts occur t
people in Albania or Burkino Faso, for we are interested in what one could
in some sense call the common ideological heritage of mankind" ("End o
History" 9).
This tension between the impulse to universalize and the establishment
of boundaries stems from the very document, the Declaration of 1798, that
serves as the basis for Fukuyama's essay. AsJean-Francois Lyotard writes, the
members of the Constituent Assembly "hallucinated humanity within the
nation" (The Differend 147). He argues that there is no possibility of recon-
ciling the rights of universal man, which are authorized by a transcendent
Ideal (the Supreme Being), with the rights of man as authorized by the
nation, which relies on the authority of necessarily exclusive names and nar-
ratives of origin. Because these authorizations cannot be reconciled, after
the French Revolution,
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TWENTIETH CENTURY LITERATURE
tempt by the ancient boatman Tai, a historian who scorns the very
progress (21). Disheartened, Aziz departs from Kashmir for Amritsar, w
after witnessing the massacre of peaceful demonstrators protesting
occupation, Aadam becomes an "Indian" (40).
Thus, Saleem begins his tale of the birth of the nation at the m
when the "modern" Aadam becomes conscious that he is "Indian," a
ment that is awakened by the brutality of imperialism. However, this "
ning" is complicated by Saleem's discovery that both his own a
nation's origins also lead him back to Britain. Dipesh Chakrabarty a
that, as subjects of Britain, colonized Indians wanted to become "leg
jects" or "modern individuals" (7). The colonized Indian dreamt of
European. In contrast, Indian nationalists abandoned the desire to b
ropean," and, assuming that the concept of "individual rights" was
sal, wanted to be both Indians and citizens (7). But Saleem's lineag
gests that the idea of individual rights, the basis of the modern na
historically specific. He discovers that not only is his biological fat
Englishman William Methwold (and, to make matters worse, his nos
herited from a French grandmother), but also that Methwold's ancestor
East Indian Company officer, initiated the dream of Bombay, whic
way to the dream of "India" (92). Further, the Indian nationalists suffer
the problem of "turning white" (179), "a disease which leaked into histo
Saleem writes, "and erupted on an enormous scale shortly after Ind
dence" (45).
Further, if the advocates of the social contract write of the part
while all the time legitimating their argument with the myth of the u
sal, so, likewise, do the Indian nationalists in Midnight's Children invok
myth of public communities while all the while ensuring their own pri
interests. Referring to the Indian businessmen, who profited enor
from the first Five Year Plan, the plan to modernize, Saleem writes:
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RUSHDIE'S MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN
vate interests. The state is not the voice of the public but the prot
the private:
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TWENTIETH CENTURY LITERATURE
Singh's (the "patriarch of the ghetto") fight for supremacy in the Met
Club, where blind women, with painted eyes, live in "a world without fa
or names" in "that place outside time, that negation of history" (454).
Saleem also offers a more cynical account of the surrender of the ind
vidual to the community, at least as an official policy. From its creation, Pa
kistan has attempted, largely unsuccessfully, to reconcile the logic of t
rights of the private liberal citizen with its commitment to Islam, the popu
lar ideological basis of the nation, because "in Muslim theory, church a
state are not separate or separable institutions" (Lewis 28). After suffering a
blow from a spittoon in the "Land of the Pure" (Pakistan), Saleem forsak
his private narrative, forgets his mothers, fathers, and midnight origins an
abandoning his "lust-for-centrality" (356), achieves purity. Saleem's new
adopted "philosophy of acceptance" in the army life, which requires t
abandonment of self-interest in the service of the "greater good" of the na-
tion, however, leads him to commit horrible acts in the name of a fraterna
community. Working as a bloodhound, he ruthlessly tracks down enem
of national unity. In his other role as buddha, "abstracted," "emptied of his-
tory," "anaesthetized against feelings as well as memories," Saleem deni
his in-the-world, material being (350).
The metaphor of swallowing the world that Saleem repeatedly invok
in his attempt to narrate the nation exposes the weakness of both the h
torical and ahistorical models: the rhetoric of democracy and individu
rights inevitably leads him to the problem of the particular posing as t
universal, while the rhetoric of community, the pressures of having to tran
scend place and time, literally leaves him abstracted and disembodied.
oth the umma and the modern nation are secured by the figure o
(un)veiled woman, who, in her very exclusion, is critical to these
els. Padma, to whom Saleem tells his tale, remains on the periphe
Saleem's story of nations. Her comments and suggestions are avai
the reader but are never incorporated into Saleem's narrative. The f
there is no sexual union further suggests the asymmetry of their r
ship. Yet, although this is clearly a hierarchical relationship, Saleem
entirely and utterly dependent on her: she sits at his feet and hold
together; when she leaves, his cracks widen and he cannot write (
Padma's peripheral status reflects the position of women in natio
struggles, where they are at once absolutely crucial and yet silent, espe
on matters of gender. Marie-Aimee Helie-Lucas, founder and mem
the international organization "Women Living under Muslim Law," q
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ing brown women from brown men" (Spivak, "Subaltern" 242), an attitud
that Aadam has internalized (" [s] tart thinking about being a moder India
woman" [emphasis mine, 34]) in his partial enthusiasm for the West, repro
duces the "civilizing the savages" argument from which colonialism drew its
raison d'etre.13 When Aadam tries to insist that his wife abandon purdah
she protests, not on behalf of modesty (the unveiling of her face and feet
but because "they will see my deepest shame!" Aadam is not really inter-
ested in the wishes of his wife. His act of liberation is also an act of violation
as he "drags all his wife's purdah-veils from her suitcase ... and sets fire to
them" (34). Naseem's "deepest shame" is thus the double violation, by colo-
nialism and patriarchy, that leaves her literally without a place, "for all her
presence and bulk... adrift in the universe" (41).
Aadam, half enamored with Western narratives of citizenship, liberates
Naseem only to insist that she be "modern" and submit to the sexual/social
contract that guarantees the European model of nationalism: "move a little,
I mean, like a woman" (34), Aadam demands of his newly "liberated" bride.
In this model, women are also "veiled" or cut off from the public sphere, as
the social contract of modern nations is also, as Carole Pateman argues, a
"sexual contract" that divides and genders public and private spaces. The
public sphere of "individuals," who make the pact guaranteeing rights,
equality, and freedom, belongs to men, who also rule in the private sphere
of blood ties and passion, the world of women. Thus Aadam, actively in-
volved in the liberation struggle against the paternal colonial order, is still
free to command his wife to perform sexually. Pateman writes that the so-
cial contract is fraternal to the extent that it guarantees men's rights over
women:
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RUSHDIE'S MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN
And now Aadam Aziz lifted his daughter (with his own arms)
ing her up after the dowry into the care of this man who h
named and so re-invented her, thus becoming in a sense her
as well as her new husband. (66)
Like her mother, Amina is forced, in the modern nation, to surrender to
the fraternal order.
The narrative of origins that occurs in the public sphere and that lends a
foundation to the modern nation, outside the "disorder of women," gives
rise to the illusion that legislation can articulate and rationalize humanity.
Simply suppressing narratives of historical origin in order to guarantee
a sense of community that transcends necessarily bounded and thus private
interests, however, does not lead us out of the dilemma of the patriarchal
construction of nation. As Mernissi has argued, the homogeneity of the
umma is an abstraction that is threatened when you introduce sexual differ-
ence and the womb, which gives birth to the material, the particular, and
the mortal. She writes:
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TWENTIETH CENTURY LITERATURE
Because the child of the womb of the woman is mortal ... the law
of paternity was instituted to screen off the uterus and woman's wi
within the sexual domain. Islam offered the Arabs two gifts, t
idea of paternity and the Muslim calendar-gifts that are the tw
faces of the same thing, the privilege of eternity. The new code
immortality was to be inscribed on the body of woman. (128)
In light of Fukuyama's apocalyptic pronouncement on the end of h
tory, the question-what happens next?-that Padma, the illiterate fact
worker, persistently asks is perhaps not as "naive" as some critics have
gued.'5 Even as Saleem as prophet announces the end of history with t
arrival of India, Padma continues to ask what comes after the end, rem
ing Saleem of his mortality and hence of the limits and boundaries of
rative: "'You better get a move on or you'll die before you get yourself bor
(38). Further, countering the abstracted notions of community, she h
things together for Saleem; she reminds him of the body and prevents him
from literally splitting apart.
It is Padma's voice that makes us aware that there are limits to knowl-
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RUSHDIE'S MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN
NOTES
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TWENTIETH CENTURY LITERATURE
1 Koran 41:1 and 42:53. These tales are grouped together in the s
Revelations Well Expounded. Each tells of a messenger from God who ar
with warnings and prophesies but is ignored by the people. The people i
suffer as a result of their arrogant dismissal of the messenger.
12 For a more detailed analysis of the modern vs. the Islamic state see
Zubaida. He describes the ideal of Islam as the "unity of state and the co
nity of the faithful" (41). However, Zubaida goes on to argue that actual I
states have fallen short of this ideal.
13 See Spivak's "Can the Subaltern Speak?". Leila Ahmed argues that t
veiled woman, the most visible mark of difference between Islam and the West,
was read by colonialists as proof of the orientals' inferiority. Lord Cromer, who
shared this view and championed the "liberation," the unveiling, of Egyptian
women, at the same time discouraged the practice of medicine in Egypt by
women and actively opposed the women's suffrage movement in England. Ahmed
concludes:
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RUSHDIE'S MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN
Thanks to Jill Didur, Linda Hutcheon, and David Vainola for reading,
ing, and commenting on drafts of this paper. Thanks also to the Sain
Senate Research Committee for funding some of this research.
WORKS CITED
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