Reflection is a powerful antidote to clear away the biases of the past, and such reflection is at the heart of Barbara Kingsolver’s The Poisonwood Bible. There are many messages Kingsolver has planted within the pages of her novel, each one poised eagerly to enter the minds of readers and perhaps even change them. However, the message I found to be most prominent is the idea that Western influences often have a dual nature when confronting foreign, exotic nations, and that the consequences of such meddling tend to be disastrous either way. To aid in the development of this idea Kingsolver deploys a variety of literary devices that reveal, on multiple levels, the often insincere and devious dealings of the West.
The first half of Western influence that Kingsolver explores is the ethnocentric and arrogant bias that Westerners adopt while attempting to “help” less fortunate nations, in this case, Congo. Even when Westerners carry seemingly altruistic intentions into the Congo (which isn’t very often in the first place), they are blinded by a misguided sense of superiority over the Africans that clouds their judgment and dooms any chance of their success. Here Kingsolver employs symbolism to underscore the point in the form of Nathan’s ill-fated garden. Nathan enters the Congo already carrying an immense prejudice against the intelligence of the natives, a bias which manifests itself in his deciding to plant a garden in order to enlighten the downtrodden Africans. Needless to say, his endeavor was a failure, and even on the occasions when Mama Tataba tried to correct his thinking he could never step back and reevaluate his own intentions and methodology. The failure of Nathan’s garden represents the failure of Western aid and missionaries to truly “help” the Africans, not merely talk down to them. So blinded was Nathan and the West by arrogance that they could not see to avoid an obvious mistake, or admit it even after it happened. This idea of blinding arrogance also plays into the interplay of microcosm and macrocosm, which Kingsolver also uses to highlight the futility of Western “generosity.” Nathan constantly speaks of baptizing the children of Kilanga in the nearby river. Unbeknownst to him, it is infested by man-eating crocodiles. What Nathan views as a kind and generous act is anything but to the Kilangans, but Nathan never realizes his mistake because he never stops to listen. What’s more frightening is that there are many, many Nathans out there, each carrying his or her personal flame of Western ethnocentrism inside. Multiply the microcosm by a thousand and you get the macrocosm—an entire army of missionaries hell-bent on the salvation of the Congolese by any means possible. There are of course exceptions, such as Brother Fowles, but Kingsolver’s message is clear: Unless the West truly changes its attitude toward Africa, the West can never truly help Africa.
The second half of Western influence Kingsolver discusses is the outright mistreatment of Africans by the West. When they’re not failing at helping the Africans, the Westerners are conscripting them into the diamond business or lopping off their hands. There are those who believe the Africans should be helped, but fail at doing so, and then there are those who believe that the Africans are tools, and who are also very good at exploiting them as such. Kingsolver advances her contention with irony in the form of Congo’s Independence Extravaganza. Leah witnesses herself the gall that the Belgian leadership has to stand up in front of the entire nation of Congo and to declare that their rule has been a just and benevolent one, and that it has been carried out by a fatherly hand while at the same time ordering the export of tons of diamonds, thus directly increasing the suffering of the Congolese people. This irony and contrast is present throughout the entire novel, revealing the treacherous doublespeak of first the Belgians and then the Americans who seek nothing more from the Congo than her riches and her anti-Communist stance. Equally striking is the anecdote Kingsolver gives Orleanna as she recreates in her mind what she believes to be a representation of how the Western invasion of the Congo came to be. Behind the mahogany paneled walls two men plotted the fate of a nation. Even here irony is present as Kingsolver contrasts the artificial, comfortable world the Belgian has created for himself from which he can conduct the pillaging of a nation and the harsh, outside world of poverty and desolation. Without regard to the welfare of the people, the shadowy figures of the West plot in their darkened rooms how the spoils of conquest will be divided, humanitarian concerns be damned.
And it is through her literary prowess that Kingsolver conveys her lament—the West is too blinded to help, and too myopic to care. On the whole, Western influence on Africa has resulted in nothing but corruption and misery, Kingsolver argues. Only time will tell if we can write a new tale.