As an English Literature student, I naturally love books. Having had the privilege to study literature from a wide range of periods, I have learnt about the English of William Shakespeare and George Eliot, for example. Literature involves a variety of topics, even ones that are relevant today. Take Oliver Twist for example – a novel that discusses society’s responsibility to care for the poor. Also, because of literature’s variety, I have had conversations with people who see things from different perspectives. Varied perspectives made me realise that there is never a set interpretation of a text, as several ideas are constantly brought to the table. However, I fear this diversity of viewpoint is at risk due to calls for a ‘decolonised’ curriculum. This kind of curriculum threatens the range of perspectives allowed in literature. To borrow a quote from Kemi Badenoch MP’s short speech: “Our curriculum does not need decolonising for the simple reason that it is not colonised”.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, colonise by definition means “to settle (a country) with colonists; to plant or establish a colony”. Therefore, to believe in the decolonisation of the curriculum, it is appropriate to consider whether the literary curriculum is colonised in the first place? How is this colonisation applied in literature? Keele University’s manifesto of decolonisation argues that the colonisation of the curriculum is “the lack of representation of black and minority ethnic groups”. They add that the curriculum in British universities “reflect and maintain a colonial legacy through the presentation of a white, Western intellectual tradition as not only superior to other forms of knowledge but as universal”. However, as James Lindsay argues, this outlook operates under “the belief that cultures are owned by and essential to particular identity groups”. Keele’s manifesto associates whiteness with Western culture, this is an overgeneralisation. A shocking example of Lindsay’s observation is the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture which ascribes ideas such as rational thought and a strong work ethic to whiteness. Furthermore, it is not only Keele, but other advocates of curriculum decolonisation also use this idea to push for their mission, arguing that the system should be dismantled because colonisation correlates with whiteness.

We should ask then: why do people want a decolonised curriculum? To answer this, we can consider the idea of mirrors, windows and sliding glass doors. This was an idea introduced by Dr. Rudine Sims Bishop. She explains that windows are books that provide a real or imagined world. Sliding glass doors are those with entirely imaginary worlds. Mirrors refers to literature which reflects our ability “to see our own lives and experiences as part of the larger human experience”. Going by Dr. Bishop’s logic, white authors also share their imagined worlds and lived experiences, so they should be included, not removed. Ignoring this need for inclusion is exactly why the underlying principles of decolonisation are so dangerous.

This danger is highlighted by the #DisruptTexts movement, founded in America. On their website, they state that their mission is: “to challenge the traditional canon in order to create a more inclusive, representative, and equitable language arts curriculum that our students deserve”. Supporters of the movement believe in an antiracist education, which is nothing if not exclusive. They also say: “We do not believe in censorship and have never supported banning books”. Despite these claims, however, teachers have cancelled The Odyssey, one of the most influential books in literary history.

Universities have introduced the Why Is My Curriculum White? campaign as an effort to change the texts taught. An outgoing Education Minister of a Students’ Union at one university writes: “It is about time our academic experience encompasses all of our lived experiences”. According to him, a decolonised curriculum allows for a “multiplicity of perspectives, traditions and approaches from different regions, historical contexts and academic disciplines”. This, no doubt, seems extremely promising. Yet, the truth is that decolonisation, an offshoot of Critical Race Theory (CRT),is an incredibly divisive theory. Even terms like ‘lived experience’, mentioned by the Education Minister, is far more charged than people may realise. It specifically refers to the experience of the ‘oppressed’ in society. Within CRT, therefore, the lived experience of a white, heterosexual male is less important than those of women and ethnic minority groups. To include a ‘multiplicity of perspectives’, then, as I said earlier, white authors ought to remain in the curriculum. But what decolonisation actually aims to do is remove ‘whiteness’ completely. Calum Anderson summarises the issue with this, writing that instead of ‘liberation’, we have a dogma where “the content of a person’s character has been predetermined by a narrow-minded academic elite who, in their supposed efforts to end bigotry, have made it part of the curriculum”.

Supporters of decolonisation will choose books based not on whether it is good, but if the author bears a certain skin colour or is of a particular gender. Why? What is wrong with reading a book solely based on its literary merit? Surely a good book is a good book regardless of the author’s identity. If a university, in particular the English department, chooses to introduce texts by authors of an ethnic minority, then let them do that based on the book’s merit. There is an underlying selfishness in the philosophy of representation. What is the reason for demanding to see oneself in a fictional book? This does more harm than good because it denies readers the shared discourse that comes with hugely influential texts. It denies them the cultural capital that allows them to join and respond to conversation. Someone who has read A Christmas Carol or knows the story is in a far better position to understand the idiom ‘don’t be a Scrooge’ than someone who has not. Limiting access to authors such as Shakespeare also puts disadvantaged students in an even worse position. Doug Lemov says: “Knowledge of common cultural touchstones lets [people] feel as though they belong. A culture of reading that does not consider this cultural importance has a disparate impact on those who are less likely to acquire cultural knowledge by other means. It is their best chance to be included in the secret conversations of opportunity”.

Tradition is not something to be rejected. There is immense value in it. F. R. Leavis, in The Great Tradition, gives his definitive list of good authors. He claims: “Except Jane Austen, George Eliot, [Henry] James and [Joseph] Conrad, there are no novelists in English worth reading”. I have no doubt you will find this excessive, as do I. But the point still stands. Some authors shine brighter than others and that is not something that can be easily ignored. There is a reason that Shakespeare is a famous playwright; he is a good writer. I find that the most influential texts are often the most relatable across a wide range of audiences, not those written for a specific one. By this I mean themes of life: love, war, loneliness, jealousy, etc. 

Evidently, nothing is wrong in learning about other cultures. Viewpoint diversity can be a good thing. However, if this can only be achieved by excluding ‘white’ literature, we must re-evaluate our thinking. Since we live in the UK, is it wrong to expect the teaching of English Literature? As we have seen, decolonisation is clearly an ideology based on one view, whilst claiming to be supportive and be open to other perspectives. Authors should not be valued on account of immutable characteristics. If an author’s work is praised, let it be because of their writing ability.