Cesaire's Caliban Addresses Prospero

by Never Wm. M. S. Hall 2023 July 26

[In this monologue, let us imagine first that Caliban has been reincarnated in 1988, which would make him, currently, 35 years old; and, by whatever miracle, he has retained all of the memories of his past life. Now, after many years of frustration and contemplation he addresses Prospero and the Culture of Colonialism.]

CALIBAN I have devoted years upon years of research, study, contemplation and meditation to the question of exactly why an entire nation of people would go through so much trouble, and go so far out of their way to create 'Me'.

Over five hundred years of your diligent tyranny can not have been accidental, or incidental. I, now, believe that, over all this time, the people of 'White' America have been greatly underestimated and/or criminally misunderstood.

'White' America, I address you directly.

I must confess that your very nature, for some time, was quite the paradox. But then it occurred to me one night, as if I had been staring at the truth of it, right in front of me, my entire life. And I came to my conclusion as I realize that we are not so very different. And the time, over five hundred years, gives it proof.

Realizing this truth, now I see your face and I know your name. And from here in I shall call you by the name that suits you best; Prospero.

For, you see, Prospero, I too have been depressed... morbidly so. I, too, have felt that there is no more to be done. And, believing so, sought to shorten the number of my days, here on earth. But never was I so clever and dedicated in my pursuits as you. Never was I so bold, so devout and so determined to make it so.

Prospero, I must applaud your dedication.

The years of searching the planet to find the correct people, who would produce so specific an outcome. The mental and spiritual strain... the genius of stealing the technology necessary for the promotion of such an arduous task. "Why make it, if you can take it?"

The guilt, pain and loneliness you must have suffered, not only in the fact that you intentionally exiled and ostracized yourselves from the entire human race by forsaking your ancestry in the denouncement of your historical background, and ancestral titles, by dubbing yourselves 'White'; a derivative of the word 'Wight', which is defined as a ghoul, ghost, devil, or evil entity. But, also, in the haunting guilt you must still suffer for the lies, the cheating, the slander, theft, robbery and burglary on your head... the trespass and adultery you've committed... the assaults, kidnappings, molestations and rapes... the oppression, pain and fear you've caused... the loss and anguish you represent... the tortures, maiming, murders and genocides on a global and interspecies scale, which all rest so heavily on your shoulders. Yet, you bear all with such a manner that must be applauded... a manner which most, some of whom are my personal heroes, have mistaken for hypocrisy.

But it can not be but the genius of your desperation to achieve this final act.

I understand you, for it can not be but that, after five hundred years of suffrage under the most heinous crimes you could imagine to commit against a people who had done you no wrong, you meant to create a being capable and worthy of your utter destruction.

It can not be but that, after five hundred years of breeding programs which mated the strongest with the strongest to be brutalized in the fields, the most intelligent with the most intelligent to be brutalized in your homes and offices, the most beautiful with the most beautiful to be tortured, not only by your brutal insanity, but by the disgust and self-loathing that the human mind and spirit must endure in order to pleasure and entertain one's tormentors, you intended to create a being of unimagined beauty, strength and knowledge, far exceeding your own, capable, both mentally and physically, of devoting itself to your utter annihilation.

And, am I not the product of the environment you created?

The fact that you, so boastfully, parade all of your crimes in the so-called 'History Books' you spend millions of dollars to distribute annually can only mean that you meant to be discovered. And you desperately want, possibly even need, to be destroyed.

It amazes me that no one realized it sooner. Even your religions suggest a self-sacrificing nature, as does your government. Hence, your devotion to the concept of a man who allowed himself to be brutalized and martyred to save his people. Hence, your innate desire to condemn, murder, or martyr men who truly possess the ability to save their people, and/or the world; General Toussaint, Denmark Vesey, Nat Turner, Harriet Tubman, Booker T. Washington, Marcus Garvey, Malcolm X, Martin L. King, Mahatma Gandhi and the list goes on and on and on...

I must say that I am in awe of the level of disease which must have possessed, and still possesses, an entire nation and drives them to such unorthodox and loathsome acts. A disease which, surely, after five hundred years, is so far advanced that death will be a mercy and a kindness to you. And I refuse to disappoint you.

So, in understanding your intention, I feel a great pride in naming you, Prospero. For, at long last, your centuries long endeavor has been prosperous. And you, like the infamous Victor Frankenstein, have, indeed, created a monster... a monster worthy of you.

Therefore, in solute to your success, the great doctor, and 'his creator', the legendary Mary Shelley, I quote you this passage from her novel:

"Cursed - Cursed, creator... You are in the wrong, and, instead of threatening, I am content to reason with you. I am malicious because I am miserable. Am I not shunned and hated by all of mankind? You, my creator, would tear me to pieces, and triumph; remember that, and tell me why I should pity [Wight] man more than he pities me? You would not call it murder if you could precipitate me into one of those ice rifts, and destroy my frame, the work of your hands.

Shall I respect [Wight] man when he contemns me? Let him live with me in the interchange of kindness; and, instead of injury, I would bestow every benefit upon him with tears of gratitude... But that can not be; the [Wight] senses are insurmountable barriers to union. Yet, mine will NOT be the submission of abject slavery. I will revenge my injuries: if I can not inspire love, I will cause fear; and chiefly towards you my arch-enemy, because my creator, do I swear inextinguishable hatred.

Have a care: I will work at your destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, so that you shall curse the hour of your birth." As, once, I did mine.

Now, dear Prospero, look upon your monster, and tremble.

[Author's Note: This work has been inspired by Cesair's 'A Tempest' and 'Discourse on Colonialism', Tarkovky's 'Solaris', and Shelley's 'Frankenstein'.

Cesaire's character Caliban is the major influence in this piece, yet, in all of these masterpieces appears a distracted 'Dr. Frankenstein' (the mad creator), after varying names. And in each piece the creation seeks, ultimately, the destruction of its creator.

Caliban was the product of the environment which Prospero created. In Solaris, the Doctor's wife is created from his memory/mind. In Frankenstein, the creature is created by the Doctor's own hands and imagination. But it is in Solaris where the character, Snaut, speaks critically, at his Birthday dinner, about the colonizer's false crusade for exploration... or colonialization as a form of exploration.

Cesaire, on this topic, had this to say, "...the essential thing here is to see clearly, to think clearly - that is, dangerously - and to answer clearly the innocent first question: what, fundamentally, is colonization? To agree on what it is not: neither evangelization, nor a philanthropic enterprise, nor a desire to push back the frontiers of ignorance, disease, and tyranny, nor a project undertaken for the greater glory of God, nor an attempt to extend the rule of law. To admit once for all, without flinching at the consequences, that the decisive actors here are the adventurer and the pirate, the wholesale grocer and the ship owner, the gold digger and the merchant, appetite and force, and behind them, the baleful projected shadow of a form of civilization which, at a certain point in its history, finds itself obliged, for internal reasons, to extend to a world scale the competition of its antagonistic economies." ...and... "...that no one colonizes innocently, that no one colonizes with impunity either; that a nation which colonizes, that a civilization which justifies colonization - and therefore force - is already a sick civilization, a civilization that is morally diseased, that irresistibly, progressing from one consequence to another, one repudiation to another, calls for its Hitler, I mean its punishment."

This, too, was a strong influence on me as I created this work.]