Thoughts on Paternalism

It seems counterintuitive, especially after our discussion of historical silences the past two weeks, to read a book “concerned with understanding the occupation as an event in the culture history of the United States,” as opposed to focusing on Haiti -- the effects of the occupation and resultant historical silences (20). Mary Renda, however, shed considerable light on the nature of the U.S. occupation of Haiti and its cultural implications for the U.S. which are imperative to understanding the complexities of how historical oppression occurs. The most striking characteristics of U.S. paternalism at this time are the self perpetuating system of nationalism and masculinity, its ability to flourish despite numerous contradictions and dichotomies, and its applicability to both personal and institutionalized encounters.

The idea of paternalism as a facet of U.S. imperialism, as Renda acknowledges, is not new. The appeals to manhood through “racial mastery, physical prowess, and a fighting spirit” as well as the acceptance of paternal responsibility are easily adapted to an imperialist agenda, and Renda provides ample examples. She focuses, however, on how societal constructions of masculinity support paternalism and imperialism. I am interested in discussing how hegemonic masculinity and nationalism create a self-perpetuating system. As masculinity lends its privilege to the imperialist agenda and U.S. exceptionalism, masculinity and nationalism become conflated. The performance of masculinity becomes the performance of patriotism, a trend that still exists today. This is apparent in Renda’s discussion of Woodrow Wilson’s attempt to distance himself from paternalism, which failed because the preexisting social heirarchies “were deeply embedded in the very rhetoric that seemed to reject them,” (109).

The pervasiveness of paternalism on multiple levels manifests itself in its ability to overcome at least two notable contradictions. First, paternalism enabled the creation of a familial relationship between the U.S. and Haiti at the same time it created a clear power dynamic: “If metaphors of fatherhood, along with their institutional counterparts, blurred boundaries between Americans and Haitians, references to primitive savagery bolstered U.S. claims to power by inscribing profound dichotomies between the two nations and peoples,” (127). Second, one of the most dangerous contradictions in my opinion, was the use of paternalism to have “wars that are not wars,” and use military violence against a sovereign nation without declaring war (135). Consider this in comparing early 20th century U.S. imperialism with our current actions in the Middle East; we have taken this manipulation one step further by declaring a “War on Terror.”

Finally, although it was dense, I appreciated Renda’s careful use of the individual stories of the marines to show how what we like to think of as purely structural or political ideologies pervade society on an extremely personal level. As Renda states, “The violent acts of U.S. marines in Haiti were not simply the isolated acts of individuals, nor were they simply the direct expression of an official and systematic imperialism,” (180). We can’t just blame “the government” for selfish imperial agendas; Renda shows that it is far more complicated than that. My final thought that comes to me then as I write this are the possible discussions about the ubiquitous “support our troops” and the glorification of the military. Any thoughts?