Literary Critique of “Waiting for the Barbarians”

Internationally acclaimed South African author J.M Coetzee shows both his literary power and political/social insight in his novel Waiting for the Barbarians (1980). The novel is known as one of the most gripping indictments ever written on the subject of colonialism and the innate discrimination and human rights violations it produces. The novel is set in an unnamed empire that is being threatened by “barbarians” or the native people of the land. The narrator of the novel is portrayed with a greater compassion for these “barbarians” whom he considers mere victims of an irrational war. However, he is too weak and lacks the conviction to protect them against his brutal and vicious colleague, Colonel Joll. It is through the eyes of the narrator that J.M Coetzee shows the victimized and human side of these supposed “barbarians” and the ultimate realization at the end of the novel which is a scathing an eternal voice against all such discrimination and human rights violations.

It is significant to describe the many images of the horrible treatment of these “barbarians” to grasp the effect the novel is making. While these images are physical they are no doubt metaphors for the additional damage the strong and powerful do to the souls and spirits of the weak when positioned as erroneously superior; such as colonial empires and what they do to the natives. Specifically in this novel, Coetzee is not shy to portray the “barbarians” in dehumanized situations while also paralleling them to more tender portrayals which allow the reader to feel the internal struggle of the narrator. He sees “a little boy who stands on one leg, his arm on his mother’s shoulder, staring back curiously at the onlookers. Someone brings a bucket of water and a ladle. They drink thirstily.” Clearly these “barbarians” are human. A young boy with one leg is no threat, nor is the mother who clutches him to her shoulder. So why are they in captivity and why do these soldiers of the unnamed Empire treat them as dangerous? Perhaps it raises again the question of “otherness” which is inherent in discrimination. The “otherness” of these people engendered a fear in the stronger Empire, and thus they responded to the false fear with war. In addition, the “otherness” of the “barbarians” is also described in parallel terms: at once showing their majestic relationship to nature and the psychology of the Empire and why they captured them. The narrator, struggling with the question of dehumanizing these clearly human beings says:

“These river people are aboriginal, older even than the nomads. They live in settlements of two or three families along the banks of the river, fishing and trapping for most of the year, paddling to the remote southern shores of the lake in autumn to catch red worms and dry them, building flimsy reed shelters, groaning with cold through winter, dressing in skins. Living in fear of everyone, skulking in the reeds, what can they possibly know of a great barbarian enterprise against the Empire?”

This section of the novel is significant because we are able to see that these “barbarians” are not the evil enemy and it is the Empire’s own fears which dehumanize them in order to control them, and ultimately their fear creates a system of captivity. This is not unlike racial segregation, marriage inequality, gender inequality, and slavery. All of these systems dehumanize a set group of individuals in order to assuage the majorities fear and ignorance of the “differences” of these people while keeping the transparent power they do not wish to “lose” to them. And this is exactly the struggle that the narrator recognizes. Unlike his other comrades, he is not afraid of these “differences” and sees no need to dehumanize them.

Beyond the death, sickness, hunger, and illness, however, the narrator makes a surprising discovery that also adds to the cycle of dehumanization that the majority afraid of a minorities influence creates. He notices that the bread, sugar, tea, and food they receive are enough to suffice. The narrator is in awe of the unusual peace of these people, while in captivity and how quickly they grew accustomed to the ready food no matter how little. He says: “They are happy here; indeed unless we chase them away they may stay with us forever, so little does it seem to have taken to lure them out of a state of nature.” “Happy” here of course is a relative term. While the narrator describes the “barbarian’s” acceptance of their captivity as “happy” it is quite clear they inherently cannot be, especially when many are sick, dying, and many have lost their babies and children. However, this section is significant because it explains the fear of the “other” perfectly. It is the fear that they may enter their society and stay forever; integrate and never disappear. And this is the goal of the unnamed Empire: to keep them dehumanized so they can never be equal. This is akin to segregation all over the world and seen especially in the apartheids of South Africa- which as a native of the country is defiantly a political message made by Coetzee.

The ending of the novel is the epiphany section. The narrator finally breaks down the excuses he makes for the Empire, the excuses he makes for himself, and takes a stand. He releases the prisoners because they are human with an inherent right to freedom just like citizens of the Empire. However, because he worked with the Empire to capture these people he cannot be part of the “New Empire” of clarity and freedom. He, representing the majority, are tainted and stained by the discrimination, injustice, and dehumanization they forced upon these people. So long as they are alive the “barbarians,” now natives, are a reminder of the injustices caused upon them. The narrator states in one of the most poignant epiphanies ever written on the subject:

“It would be best if this obscure chapter in the history of the world were terminated at once, if these ugly people were obliterated from the face of the earth and we swore to make a new start, to run an empire in which there would be no more injustice, no more pain. It would cost so little to march them out into the desert (having put a meal in them first, perhaps, to make the march possible), to have them dig, with their last strength, a pit large enough for all of them to lie in…leaving them buried there forever and forever, to come back to the walled town full of new intentions, new resolutions.”

While incredibly poignant, the point is harrowing. As a living reminder of injustices he caused them, the narrator, representing others like him, would rather erase the memory of this dehumanization by killing these people. He recognizes the injustice he caused is so deep and painful that there is no other way for him and others like him to start over fresh. However, this is not reality and he must deal with the reality in front of him and therefore he will use all in his power to better the situation, regardless if the memories stay alive. He declares:

“But that will not be my way. The new men of the Empire are the ones who believe in fresh starts, new chapters, clean pages; I struggle on with the old story, hoping that before it is finished it will reveal to me why it was that I thought it worth the trouble. Thus it is that, administration of law and order in these parts having today passed back to me, I order that the prisoners be fed, that the doctor be called in to do what he can, that the barracks return to being a barracks, that arrangements be made to restore the prisoners to their former lives as soon as possible, as far as possible.”

Coetzee’s genius can be seen in this last epiphany expressed by the narrator. The narrator must live with his choices and “struggle on…hoping that before it is finished it will reveal to me why it was that I thought it was worth the trouble.” It is clear that Coetzee is analyzing the psychology and politics of colonialism and its bitter production of segregation, apartheid, discrimination, and truncating of civil liberties. This epiphany is especially true for countries like the U.S.A, South Africa, Germany, Cambodia, Rwanda, Russia, Turkey, and many others with a history of slavery, discrimination, segregation, and genocide and unfortunately those that still practice it today. However, Coetzee also integrates a realistic hope within his message. Beyond showing what dehumanizing a selected group of people through discrimination or truncating freedoms can do to society in general, it is possible for those in power to change. Like the narrator who realizes the uselessness of fearing and dehumanizing “others” there is hope for everybody to change by accepting people that are supposedly different and respecting the humanness that is theirs just like yours.

By Robert Danielak