★★★★★ Fanon’s righteous fury is kept remarkably restrained as he examines the necessity and nature of violent anticolonialism

There is much more in Wretched of the Earth than arguments for violent resistance to colonialism. There are reflections on the place of traditional arts in dynamic culture, contrasts drawn between the greater bourgeoisie of the metropole and the lesser bourgeoisie of the colonies. His economic analysis of independent former colonies is clear and insightful. It is, however, the first essay, “On Violence”, that is and deserves to be the most famous. The work is blunt, provocative, and essential, and is, as Palestine sadly shows, as true as it ever has been.

And then, at the end of my 50th anniversary edition Richard Wilcox translation, is a series of case studies from Fanon’s days as a psychoanalyst in Algeria for the French government before joining that country’s ongoing rising. In these, he describes interviews conducted with patients suffering nervous conditions as a result of trauma related to that ongoing war – children, soldiers, state torturers. I will not describe these further except to say that they are among the most harrowing accounts that I have ever heard a human make, including at least one specific example of the utter depth of human evil. To read that account, and to imagine Fanon sitting there listening as it is made, and then to consider again the words of the essays that he would later write and that you have just read, is then to realize the justice and magnitude of the young doctor’s fury. It is to realize just how calm and collected and restrained this book actually is. It is to realize that it is one that you will need to return to again and again in this life, because there is so much work to do.

I have much more to say about Wretched of the Earth, but that will have to come later. It is not a faultless book; Fanon’s is not a faultless argument. In particular, although I may have respect for individual psychoanalysts, I don’t have much respect for the discipline of psychoanalysis. However, I can recognize where I have much more to learn before I open my mouth. In addition to Black Skins, White Masks and various critical essays on Fanon and his works, my understanding of anticolonial history, especially in Africa and the Middle East, I need to read some history. Specifically, histories of anticolonial resistance and rising, especially in the 20th century and within Africa and the Middle East. I am sure that these histories contain horrors at least equal to those Fanon described in his case studies. I am also sure that they contain stories of resistance, of solidarity, and of survival. If nothing else, they will contain the true accounting of how we find ourselves in our current historical moment, and how we might get out.