Michael Murphy: The farcical attempt to ‘decolonize’ Shakespeare

The Bard’s themes — of love, betrayal, friendship, madness and the perils of power — are universal. To insist otherwise is itself racist

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By Michael Murphy, National Post

The Shakespeare Birthplace Trust, custodian of buildings and archival materials linked to the playwright, has decided that Shakespeare was too white for their liking. So white, in fact, that the Trust commissioned an investigation into how the playwright’s work advanced “white supremacy.”

Shakespeare’s plays stand accused of being a pillar of “British cultural superiority” and “Anglo-cultural supremacy,” compliments with which I shan’t quibble. The Trust was magnanimous enough, no doubt to the delight of continental esthetes who would like to claim him, to also implicate the Bard in “white European supremacy.” One wonders if the English can, in turn, be awarded some kudos for Dante — but I digress.

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Dr. Helen Hopkins, of Birmingham City University, conducted the research underpinning the project and has proffered some recommendations about how best to move forward. First, a mea culpa on the playwright’s behalf: the Trust should acknowledge that “the narrative of Shakespeare’s greatness has caused harm — through the epistemic violence.” Second, some humble pie: Shakespeare should be presented not as the “greatest” playwright, but instead as “part of a community of equal and different writers and artists from around the world.” Finally, Shakespeare must be “decolonized” forthwith. His work and legacy should be subjected to a full autopsy for any links to colonialism and Empire, as well as any “language or depictions that are racist, sexist, homophobic, or otherwise harmful.”

There is a handy rule of thumb to understand envy: it almost never announces itself. Fantastic yarns are spun to disguise that emotion more than any other. This project and its recommendations are one such yarn. Each charge is dressed up as probing cultural criticism, yet perspires with envy and resentment. The resulting odour borders on being intentional.

Hopkins, preoccupied in the manner of a small child with a new toy with the word “supremacism,” appears oblivious to the supreme confidence with which she has appointed herself judge of what the rest of us may admire. I suppose one woman’s “narrative” of greatness is another’s global literary consensus, in a crowded field, over half a millennium. As for “epistemic violence,” one might highlight to Hopkins that living is a dangerous business, and, for most of history, humanity has been no stranger to casual blood-shedding that has mercifully become less commonplace. Steven Pinker, in The Better Angels of our Nature, his impressive study on the subject, attributes the global decline in violence in part to the growth in reading, which allowed people around the world to place themselves in the shoes of another for hours at a time. This is what James Baldwin was getting at when he wrote: “You read something which you thought only happened to you, and you discover that it happened 100 years ago to Dostoyevsky. This is a very great liberation for the suffering, struggling person, who always thinks that he is alone. This is why art is important.” Baldwin was not so bereft of imagination as to find “Russian supremacy” in Dostoyevsky. Queen Victoria resisted similarly pedestrian interpretations when she read Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Harriet Beecher Stowe’s 1852 novel chronicling the life of a slave in the American south. She merely wept.

Few literary works, apart from the King James Bible, can claim to have spurred this revolution in imagination and empathy as much as those of Shakespeare. His themes — of love, betrayal, friendship, madness and the perils of power — are universal. To insist otherwise is itself a form of racism. Minorities no more need trigger warnings and tenuous “contextualization” than anyone else. Pretending that Shakespeare was just another author, one Bard among an infinite gallery of equals, is the sort of patronization offered to schoolchildren arriving third in the egg and spoon race.

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Shakespeare does not need “decolonizing.” He needs to be read, and reread, as widely as possible. His works are the inheritance of all sentient human beings equipped with the wit and subtlety of mind to appreciate them. Unfortunately, there is little evidence that his custodians at the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust number among them.

Anzac Day for nationalists is not an exercise in populist jingoism. In our history, Australians have fought for our national survival only once — in the Pacific War against Japan. This does not diminish the courage or legacy of our fighting men from Gallipoli to Afghanistan. Rather, it underscores the tragedy of two formative generations largely wiped out in conflicts that were not in Australia’s vital interests.

The century of Zionist-driven wars has now reached its climax. We stand at the threshold of World War Three, beginning with the first skirmishes we witness today. Make no mistake: this new global conflict once again revolves around the economic imperatives and strategic obsessions of a foreign power, shaped by a small elite whose religious identity and political ideology — Zionism — are deeply intertwined.

This Anzac Day calls for reflection, not only on the heroes who defended Australia’s north against Japan, but on the criminal waste of blood and treasure in “brothers’ wars” that left us depleted. We were forced to replenish our population by looking first to Europe, then to Asia, after our finest generations were sacrificed for “King and Country” — and for the interests of international bankers.

We now enter a new dark age of conflict. It began with the unconscionable attack on Iran and continues through the proxy war against Russia in Ukraine. This will almost certainly embolden China over Taiwan. Though none of these flashpoints directly involve Australia, the global nature of financial hegemony will inevitably draw us in. The coming new order will not be shaped by a declining Zionist-influenced United States. At home, we already face grave perils: a weakened military, decades of “girl boss” policies that have eroded masculine strength in favour of a brittle gynocracy, and a traitor class of politicians who now preside over Anzac commemorations.

Spare a thought for the soldiers these same politicians’ brand as villains — men like Ben Roberts-Smith. The very elites destroying Australia through mass migration, crass commercialism, and cultural degeneration will invoke a hollow patriotism they simultaneously undermine.

These unremarkable politicians have elevated themselves into a new ruling class, standing above the “population” — a polyglot of immigrant diasporas they cultivate to maintain power for its own sake. As native Australian birth rates collapse — a direct result of post-WW2 feminism and liberal social policies — our numbers dwindle further. In the coming storm, deference to imported primitive cultures will only accelerate the erosion of our national character. Australia’s very status will be up for negotiation in the new world order.

For the thinking Australian, Anzac Day is not about embracing the Anglo-centric myth of suicidal heroics for a compromised Europe, nor dying in the jungles of Vietnam for Coca-Cola. It is about recognising how the Australian project has been repeatedly thwarted by foreign interests. It is about confronting the normalisation of our racial and cultural suicide — a process that today sees the interests of non-White newcomers prioritised over those of the founding Australian people.

These politicians will stand at memorials, in the shadow of men who died in conflicts not of their making, and place false words in the mouths of the fallen. If Anzac Day truly means honouring our heroes, then we must acknowledge the truth: they died for an Australia that has since been betrayed.

Our task is to take the spirit they bequeathed us — that same Anzac spirit that belongs not only to the military but to every loyal Australian — and continue the fight for the nation they believed they were defending.

N.S.