Oral
History vs. Official Archive: Two Ways of Knowing Mahua Dabar
Shaleen Kumar Singh,
Professor,
Department of English,
Swami Shukdevanand College,
Shahjahanpur,
Uttar Pradesh, India.
Abstract:
This article examines
the contrasting epistemologies of colonial archival records and oral tradition
through the historical case of Mahua Dabar, a village implicated in the killing
of five British officers during the uprising of 1857. The official colonial
record—particularly the 1860 judicial proceedings concerning Mehurban
Khan—represents what may be termed the colonial archive: a bureaucratic and
juridical system designed to produce legally verifiable truths. Drawing on
theoretical insights from Michel Foucault, the study argues that such archives
function as technologies of power that determine what can be recorded, heard,
and recognized as historical evidence. Within this framework, individuals
appear primarily as administrative subjects—defendants, witnesses, or
suspects—while broader experiences of community life remain structurally
excluded.
In contrast, the
article explores oral tradition as a distinct mode of historical knowledge
grounded in communal memory and social practice. Using Walter Ong’s theory of
the psychodynamics of orality and Paul Connerton’s concept of embodied social
memory, the study shows how oral narratives preserve dimensions of the past
that archives cannot capture, including motive, grief, moral meaning, agency,
and collective identity. Oral traditions of Mahua Dabar transmit memories of
the 1857 events through narrative performance, ritual commemoration, and shared
social practices that sustain community identity despite the colonial
destruction and dispersal of the village.
Engaging with the
methodological debates of Subaltern Studies scholars such as Ranajit Guha,
Shahid Amin, and Dipesh Chakrabarty, the article argues that archival and oral
sources represent two distinct “grammars of memory.” Rather than privileging
one over the other, it proposes a dialogical methodology that critically
juxtaposes both modes to produce a more nuanced understanding of subaltern
pasts.
Keywords: Oral Tradition, Colonial Archive, Mahua Dabar (1857
Uprising), Social Memory, Subaltern Historiography
Introduction:
The Archive and Its Silences
During the fall of 1860, the Lieutenant Governor of the
North Western Province in the then colony of Nynee Tal had an administrative
precinct put together a corpus of judicial transcripts recording the trial of Mehurban
Khan who was alleged to have participated in the 1857 murder of five British
officers in the village of Mohwa Dabur. These are the documents of deposit,
cross-examination, administrative correspondence that make up what could be
called the official record of Mahua Dabar which is a monument of text
constructed by the colonial apparatus to prosecute, punish, and hold
administrators accountable.
It is not merely the juxtaposition of the official
colonial archive and the oral tradition that coexists with it that adds to the
historiography, but rather gives rise to two different ontologies of knowing,
each driven by different epistemological logics, which maintain different
categories of truth and each of which authorizes different types of claim over the
events in question and their importance.
The current work falls into this epistemological split by
turning to the psychodynamics of the oral (Walter Ong), the sociology of the
social memory (Paul Connerton), and the body of subaltern oral-history writing
scattered across South Asian studies, especially to the writings of Ranajit
Guha, Gayatri Spivak, Shahid Amin and Dipesh Chakrabarty. The main
interrogatives are therefore: how do each of the modalities produce truth? What
do the official archives hold that the oral tradition can never hold and the
reverse holds true as well. Which stories do the oral traditions hold alone?
The argument is presented in five different parts.
Section II describes the epistemic design of the colonial archive and uses Foucauldian
canon analysis to shed light on the colonial archive as technology of power.
Part III uses the schema of Ong to question the cognitive and social roles of
oral tradition in societies with no or no access to literary culture. IV sets
in motion Connerton and his construct of social memory to explain how the
collective past of the Mahua Dabar people is actually being passed down by
corporeality, ritual and commemorative praxis and not by textual artifacts.
Section V interprets the conflict of the colonial record of Singh and the oral
record of Ansari as a methodological instance of the epistemological politics
of the oral-history practice of South Asia.
Part VI ends by reflecting on an authentic dialogic
approach - an approach that does not privilege either of the registers - and
theorizes about its possible forms once it is deployed to examine the
communities designated for exclusion in the written record.
The Colonial Archive as Technology of Truth
In analyzing the October 1860 Proceedings of the North
Western Provinces Judicial (Criminal) Department through the perspective of
historical methodology, what one might think of is essentially a legal
document: a precise take on the depositions, an encrypted series of
administrative letters, and a collection of judicial resolutions confirming the
sentence of life-long transportation that was to be enforced on Mehurban Khan.
However, they operate in a closer way to the Foucauldian vision of an archive
as formulated in The Archaeology of Knowledge. The Proceedings as such are a
regime according to which the manifestation of statements appears, according to
which the discourse can permit such and such, and which consequently define the
verities about Mahua Dabar which can be reached by the historical discourse
(Foucault 126-31). This is not just an archival arrangement that documents
events, but it creates them as historical objects.
A number of characteristics of the Proceedings shed light
on the productive character of this archival system. To begin with, the archive
is built on the basis of one juridical question the guilt or innocence of
Mehurban Khan and all the testimonies are shaped under this question. The
deposition of Badal Khan about the scattering of the Mohwa Dabur inhabitants is
thus rendered important also in as far as it connects the web of links by which
the village was engaged in the massacre of British officers. The fact that his
catalogue of locations where shopkeepers moved is: some at Kulwaree, some at
Buhadorpore, some at Runwapore, some at Gobindgunge, some at Nuggur, some at
Gai Ghat, and some at Coosowry, is thus recorded as evidence of communal
complicity, and not as a simple human geographic description. Epistemological
scheme of the archive determines what elements of the community life should be
allowed to be included.
Second, the archive gives a grammatical arrangement to
the subjects. Every deposition begins with what the Proceedings refer to as the
usual question a formulaic inquiry into the name of the witness, the name of
his father, his caste, his age, his residence and occupation. This formula not
only accumulates administrative data, but also scripts the witness into a
taxonomy of legible, recognizable subjects in a colony. According to Bernard
Cohn currently writing in Paula Colonialism and Its Forms of Knowledge, the
British project in India was an endeavor of knowledge-making no less than
political domination: the census, the gazetteer and the judicial record were
jointly a command of grammar over colonial subjects (Cohn 4-5). The formulaic
opening of the proceedings, therefore, serves as a grammatical command, which
makes a person a member of the categories, caste, profession, residence by
which the colonial state perceived people as legible subjects.
Third and, perhaps, what is most important in
epistemological argument of this paper, the archive structurally cannot record
what it does not pursue. The canonical expression of Gayatri Spivak, the
subaltern cannot speak, should be understood not to mean the literal silence of
people in colonialism, but rather as an observation of the unequal nature of
the archive discourse: speech is a relation between an utterer and an audience,
and the colonial archive is designed to hear only that which can be used to its
juridical benefit (Spivak, “Can the Subaltern Speak? 308). Mehurban Khan writes
at some length in his depositions, but his evidence is filtered through the
requirements of legal self-defence, the subjectivity of his relation to Mahua
Dabar--the flavour of his life there, his understanding of what and why has
happened--is not inquired into and so is not forthcoming. The archive is the
record of the skeletal outline of events; it cannot maintain the living body of
community experience.
The Psychodynamics of Oral Tradition: Ong and the Living
Word
The most comprehensive theoretical explanation that has
been given on the differences between oral and literate modes of preservation
and transmission of knowledge is that provided by Walter Ong in his book,
Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word (1982). The main argument
that Ong puts forward is that literacy is not merely a more effective
embodiment of orality, but rather, a unique form of cognitive technology that
reconfigures the human consciousness, hence altering how communities arrange,
store and retrieve their knowledge (Ong 78 82). To know what oral tradition can
tell us about Mahua Dabar that the archive fails to do, we need to first
comprehend what Ong has meant by his notion of the psychodynamics of orality.
Ong argues that oral cultures cannot store information
outside their bodies, there are no records to go through, no index to look, no
paperwork to save. Knowledge therefore has to be retained in forms of mnemonics
which cannot be embodied in literate cultures: formulaic, rhythmic, narrative
repetitive, and most importantly the implementation of knowledge in human
relationships and performance of life (Ong 33-36). So what an oral community
retains is not a record but a living, socially inculcated tradition - knowledge
which is still alive precisely because it is still used to serve the current
needs of the community and it is constantly practised in situations that give
it meaning.
This has two implications on the case of Mahua Dabar that
should be highlighted. To begin with, oral tradition maintains what is
communally important but not what is juridically important. What was
significant to the prosecutorial apparatus was documented in the colonial
archive, what was important to the community itself became memorized in oral
tradition: the names of the dead, the reasons why they resisted, the memory of
dispossession, the moral meaning of what happened in June 1857. These are not
only various contents, but various epistemological types. The question in the
archive is who is guilty? Oral tradition poses: so who are we, and what is
become of us?
Second, oral tradition is not an object. Ong underlines
that oral societies keep the past alive by a process which he terms as
homeostasis: the things of the past which become irrelevant to the present can
disappear and never be reborn again by the oral tradition, and the things of
the past which retain their relevance in the present are kept alive and adapted
to the present (Ong 46 49). It is not any dearth of memory but rather a different
relation to time: oral tradition of Mahua Dabar is not aimed at celebrating a
predetermined version of 1857 but rather at maintaining a live relation between
the past and the present in the service of self-understanding of the community.
Thus when Ansari rediscovers the oral tradition of Mahua Dabar it is not just
the rediscovery of a concealed repository; it is the recording of a vitalized
cognitive and social activity.
The opponents of Ong, more specifically, Ruth Finnegan,
argue that there is a danger of a simplistic reductive dichotomy in the way he
frames oral and literate cultures. They underline that the majority of
societies are at the continuum, and are not attached to either pole (Finnegan
1415). This fact is particularly relevant to Mahua Dabar in the nineteenth
century, which was not isolated by the permeation of literacy, where a
Tehsildar clerk, a canangoing (revenue officer) and administrative documents
were present in the village points to a community that existed in a complex
relationship between oral and written knowledge. Even then, the analytical
framework developed by Ong still has significant usefulness in the ability to
draw structural differences between what the colonial archive maintained and
what oral tradition held on the situation where it is not necessarily absolute.
Social Memory and the Body: Connerton's Framework Applied
How Societies Remember (1989) by Paul Connerton
formulates a theory of social memory that is complementary to that outlined by
Ong on orality, especially where violent dispersion has taken place within the
community. According to Connerton, no forms of social memory are the most
persistent and persistent forms of social memory are neither cognitive nor
inscribed, but embodied and performative, they are transmitted in gestures,
rituals, postures, and commemorative practices, and they are not expressed in
words (Connerton 7274). He makes a critical distinction between inscribed
memory, which is based on written or otherwise externally marked evidence, and incorporated
memory, which is coded into the body itself in the form of habit, ritual and
performance.
The shifting about of the population of Mahua Dabar after
the Ghair-Chiragi decree, into Bhyropoor, Kulwaree, Bahadorpore, Runwporter,
Gobindgunge, Nuggur, Gai Ghat, and Coosowry, as testified by Badal Khan, was an
assault in incorporated memory. The characteristic space practices of the
community including the common path to the well, the structure of the market,
the season of agricultural events and the physical structure of the village by
which the body is oriented to its historical story are broken when a community
is geographically dispersed: it is the collective experience of space that
makes the body age and become a part of the story. The very notion of dispersal
is what Connerton, in the idea of the habit-memory, her concept of bodily
knowledge transmitted without any teaching by partaking in everyday shared
life, is specifically killed (Connerton 89 -94).
But what lasts beyond dispersal can be seen through the
paradigm of Connerton as well. The ceremonies of commemoration, the ritual
reenactment with which Connerton locates the very core of social memory, are
portably so where physical spaces are not. As Mahua Dabar leaks, it did not
only carry with it the cognitive content of its past, but also the ritual forms
in which that past has been re-enacted and confirmed by the whole community on
an annual basis. In that respect, oral tradition cannot only be verbal, but it
is a performance. It is not merely that the stories told of June 1857 are
conveyed but rather a communal ritual and they are imprinted in the bodies of
the people such that they are erosive to the loss of time and place.
The subsequent output of Connerton, How Modernity Forgets
(2009), recognizes place memory, the memory that is specifically tied to
topography and the connection of the body to physical space, as being
especially susceptible to the effects of modernity and the colonial
displacement. The ghaire chiragi decree, with its levelling of the Mahua Dabar
to the ground, produced just the sort of attack upon place memory, which the
model used by Connerton would have predicted: it broke the material support by
which the spatial orientation of the community was attached to its own past,
and therefore made forgetting a necessity. The fact that the oral tradition
survived this attack as evidenced by the fact that Ansari remembers living
memory of the events, then, is not just as an event occurring in history but
goes to show the strength of the incorporated and performative memory in the
face of the archival violence of colonial erasure.
Oral History in South Asian Studies: The Methodological
Politics
The use of oral history as supplementation and redress to
colonial archives is not new to South Asian subaltern studies, but with a long
tradition of self-conscious methodology with respect to the epistemological
politics it implies. These founding theorists of the Subaltern Studies project,
Ranajit Guha, Shahid Amin, Dipesh Chakrabarty, and many others, at once
understood that the colonial archive was not the discontented guard of data,
but ideologically biased matter, and that the reconstruction of subaltern
consciousness had necessarily to involve methodological approaches beyond the
usual archival work (Guha, Elementary Aspects 117).
The formulation made by Ranajit Guha in his famous book
titled The Prose of Counter-Insurgency (1983) is the localization of the
structural issue in the most accurate manner: the documents of colonial sources
about peasant rebellion are written not only in the prism of power but also in
an inability to eliminate the expressions of the same consciousness on which
the colonialist rule based its authority. Guha calls this the primary discourse
of counter-insurgency and he claims that the historian should read against this
discourse - paying close attention to the silences, omissions and
contradictions in the archive to reconstruct the voice of the subaltern (Guha,
“Prose” 2-4). This approach that Guha refers to as reading the archive against
the grain is a kind of reverse oral history: it tries to recreate the oral,
social aspect of popular consciousness based upon textual artefacts created
specifically to erase it.
The most advanced instance of this kind of approach in
the subcontinent is provided in Shahid Amin, Event, Metaphor, Memory: Chauri
Chaura, 1922-1992 (1995). This is exactly the precedent that Amin built his
project around Mahua Dabar, to compare the colonial and judicial history of a
violent incident in 1922, with the oral history of the remaining residents of
the area and their descendants, and to analyze how the two ways of knowing
create different objects out of the same events. What Amin had found was not
simply a case of oral memory keeping what the archive leaves out, but rather of
the two modes developing radically different time-images: the colonial record
establishes events in a legal series of cause, action, and consequence, whereas
oral memory establishes them in a repetitive series of commemoration, narrative
re-enactment and self-identification (within a community) (9-15). This distinction
in time is epistemologically central: the two modes are not merely the bearers
of divergent contents, but they represent divergent temporal organisation
logics.
The methodological stakes are further raised at the level
of the work by Dipesh Chakrabarty, who in his book, Provincedialising Europe,
(2000) wonders whether even the recovery of oral tradition can avoid the
epistemological paradigm of Western historicism. His differentiation between
the History 1 of the universalising, secularising time of European historical
thought and the heterogeneous, non-linear, affective pasts which cannot be
reduced to the categories of History 1 is directly applicable to the Mahua
Dabar case (Chakrabarty 4771). Oral tradition of Mahua Dabar can possibly
represent a kind of historical consciousness that is essentially
incommensurable with the time logic of the colonial archive; to homogenize it
in the terms of the categories of the archive is to reproduce, at the
methodological level, the epistemological violence, which the archive has first
performed. Therefore, the project conducted by Singh and Ansari is associated
not only with the recovery of the divergent content, but with the negotiation
of a root epistemological incommensurability.
Another approach dimension is delivered by {History and
Collective Memory in South Asia, 1200-2000 by Sumit Guha (2019), which
establishes a long-term curve on the formation of social memory in the
subcontinent and shows that the oral-written divide has never been so vivid in
South Asian praxis as it is in European theory (Sumit Guha 12-18). The
communities in South Asia have traditionally enjoyed complex, stratified
relations between oral and written memory whereby different things are
preserved in different ways, fulfilled different social roles: formal written
records of juridical and administrative importance, oral genealogies of kinship
and community identity, and ceremonies of commemoration of religious and
collective self-understanding. The Mahua Dabar case therefore has to be placed
in this intricate ecology of memory as opposed to being absorbed in a simple
dichotomy of oral versus written.
Since the epistemological framework of every mode has
been defined, the section is the direct answer to the fundamental question of
the paper what unique types of knowledge does oral tradition hold that the
colonial archive is structurally incapable of? There are four categories that
deserve special consideration.
The former is the type of motive and meaning. We have
what Mehurban Khan did, as far as we can make out by what we have, it is what
Mehurban Khan did, not what the people of Mahua Dabar gave their actions. The
issue of why the village all took part in the murder of five British officers
in June 1857 whether with anti-colonial feeling or local political resentment
or village solidarity or some other collective logic of action is exactly the
issue that the juridical structure of the archive simply precludes, since it
was not the question it was intended to answer. Oral tradition, on the other
hand, is able to preserve exactly this aspect: the narratives given about June
1857 in the community will have sorted the events in terms of how the community
itself perceived what they were and why they occurred. The fact that these
stories have been recovered by Ansari in the oral tradition can thus be said as
not only supplementary to the archive but epistemologically incomparable.
The second category is the grief and loss. It is the
logic of punishment that is preserved in the colonial archive; but not the
experience of being punished. The only remnant, in the record of what it was
like to go back to the village that had been burned by the colonial government,
is the compressed participial clause of Mehurban Khan, describing how Dabur was
thrown to the ground. The entire mass of such a loss: the feel of the lost, the
sadness of the scattered folk, the anger and heartache and confusion of the
survivors, are accessible only through oral tradition and it does not just
conserve the facts of loss but the emotional, affective sides of it. This is
exactly the sphere of incorporated memory, according to the framework by
Connerton, grief, like any strong emotion, is embodied in the body, it is
passed on with the help of the ritual mourning, and it is held in the memorial
activities within the framework of which the communities commemorate the dead.
The third category is the alternative agency type. The
colonial archive makes the residents of Mahua Dabar less subjects than they are
the objects of the judicial action, the suspects, defendants, and witnesses.
Oral tradition, in its turn, builds them into agents: into those who made
choices, took their actions because of their beliefs, opposed or compromised
colonial authority, and survived 1857 with the personality of a human being.
Tales of heroism, tales of fear, of ethical ambivalence, and of human sacrifice
in the name of resistance, which the archive, preoccupied with proving legal
culpability, cannot hold, will be stored in the oral tradition of a people who
were engaged in colonial resistance.
The fourth category is the continuity and identity. The
archive documents Mahua Dabar as a place - as a position in a colonial map, as
an object of crime, as a village designated ghair-chiragi - but it cannot
register Mahua Dabar as a community - as an association of relationships,
duties, histories of sharing, mutual conceptions of the self which endured
through and after the physical destruction of the village. It is oral tradition
in particular that enables the community identity to remain in the face of the
death of its material ground. Oral tradition is not a storage of information,
but is instead a type of social practice, as Ong points out: performance of the
past is also performance of communal solidarity, re-presentation of shared
identity, and claim of continuity through the discontinuity of dispersal (Ong
45‑46).
The primary question of identity, in the community, is the question who are we?
and this question, being an oral tradition, cannot be answered by an archive.
VII. Toward a
Dialogical Methodology
This epistemological critique of this manuscript does not
end up making oral tradition categorically better than the colonial archive in
housing knowledge about Mahua Dabar. Every media has its own proficiencies and
deficiencies that accompany it. The archive preserves the facts which cannot be
preserved in oral tradition: the very wording of the testimonies taken under
cross-examination, the names of the people who would otherwise be reduced to
oblivion, the definite geographical position of the events on a certain day in
June 1857. Oral tradition, on the other hand, possesses things that those who
archive cannot grasp: meaning, grief, agency, identity, and continuity of the
living relationship of community to its own past. An all-inclusive story of
Mahua Dabar therefore must include the combination of the two.
Nonetheless, the project requires a methodology that is
acutely self-conscious of the asymmetrical power relations of each mode, as
well as the scholarly process that forces them into dialogue with each other.
The warning that Spivak issues against even well-intentioned attempts to
recover subaltern voices can reproduce the same epistemic violence that it is
attempting to dispute is poignantly relevant here: the scholar who translates
the oral tradition of Mahua Dabar into the discursive apparatus of academic
history accomplishes a translation that will inevitably lose something, a loss
that must be done with full awareness of the in translatability of the elements
that she is losing (Spivak, “Can the Subaltern Speak? 308-09). The aligning of
the study by Singh and Ansari with the colonial archive/ oral tradition
articulates that locates itself at a point where the two modalities mutually
depend on each other, therefore offers a model of how dialogic will proceed
herein: a framework that allows both modalities to question and complicate each
other.
There are three principles which support this dialogical
methodology. The first is epistemic humility: each and every medium cannot be
said to provide exhaustive knowledge, but only provide an incomplete,
perspective depiction of events. In line with this, the colonial archive as
well as oral tradition cannot be considered incontrovertibly reliable; both of
them should be subject to critical examination. The second principle,
structural asymmetry, refers to the fact that the archive was built upon power,
and oral tradition was expressed through the power, scholars should be careful
not to fall into the trap of re-presenting these modes as symmetrical options
to be evaluated. The third principle is that of incommensurability: this principle
is taken up by Chakrabarty who argues that the two mediums are not fully
synthezised into a single narrative; some aspects of Mahua Dabar history will
be intractable to the categorical apparatus of the archive, and resisting the
archives is itself a historically significant piece of data. Applied to the
Mahua Dabar case, this dialogical approach to methodology would suggest that
the official Proceedings were not to be interpreted as a set of corroborable
facts or contradictible statements of the oral tradition; instead, they were to
be read as documents that revealed the epistemic constraints of the colonial
order as it applied in the village it ravaged. As an example, in Mehurban Khan
saying that he has returned to his family at Burhampore, Mohwa Dabur being
levelled to the ground, the participial absolute by which the agent doing the
levelling is pushed out of the sentence is asserted to serve, not as a pathos,
but as an archival witness to the archivist’s own epistemology. As oral
tradition, then, predestines the very boundaries that the archive disowns, when
it claims the agency, its grief, meaning, and identity, which the archive
record cannot encompass, it undertakes an act of epistemological critique that
is beyond the agency of supplementation.
Conclusion: The Two Grammars of Memory
According to my argument, the official colonial archive
and oral tradition are not two versions of one story about Mahua Dabar. They
are different epistemological grammars, and both are systems of creating the
past as an object of knowledge, and which have their own logic of evidence,
veracity and meaning. The colonial archive is the expression of a grammar of
juridical accountability: it coordinates events like a series of legal
causality, individuals like defendants or witnesses and truth as that which may
be decided beyond reasonable doubt in law courts. Instead, oral tradition takes
the grammar of communal identity, in which events are represented as nodes in a
living grid of meaning and obligation, people as members of a community that
has a common past and future, and truth as that which is worth remembering
specifically because it still matters.
These two grammars are not divergent, but in certain
essential points, are mutually exclusive. The fact that the archive itself
asserts the legal culpability or innocence of Mehurban carrier of the legal
culpable is directly opposite to the oral tradition of maintaining the
self-account of the community, that picture of its agency, and the expenses
this entails upon the community. Introducing these modalities to a discourse,
as the research by Singh and Ansari attempts to do, thus become not a simple
task of supplementation but a truly strenuous task of epistemological
translation, which requires full awareness of the power relations that have
shaped each of the modalities and still predetermine their acceptance.
The fact that oral tradition plays the role that written expression
cannot (Ong 41) is, in the case of Mahua Dabar, not just a hypothetical
speculation but also a historical and partisan assertion. The ghairchiragi
ordinance attempted to do, by the legal rhetoric, what the incineration of the
village had tried to do, by the effects of pyrotechnics, to achieve
permanently: never again to have Mahua Dabar appear in the annals of the world.
However, oral tradition outlived this erasure and retained in its living memory
and commemoration practice a version of the community that the archive was
unable to archive and destroy. In that way, it provides the best eloquent
witness to challenge the boundaries of the archival power and to certify the
strength of the communal memory.
Appendix: Comparative Epistemological Features of the Two
Modes
The following table summarizes the key epistemological
differences between the colonial official archive (as represented by the 1860
Proceedings) and oral tradition (as recovered by Ansari's fieldwork in Singh's
research), across six dimensions of knowledge production.
|
Dimension |
Colonial Official Archive (1860 Proceedings) |
Oral Tradition (Ansari's Recovery) |
|
Governing Question |
Who is legally guilty? |
Who are we and what happened to us? |
|
Temporal Structure |
Linear; juridical sequence of cause and legal
consequence |
Cyclical; commemorative; past folded into present
significance |
|
Mode of Transmission |
Written; inscribed; preserved in government
record-keeping |
Oral performance; bodily practice; commemorative ceremony |
|
Construction of Persons |
Defendants, witnesses, suspects; classified by caste,
profession, residence |
Community members; agents; bearers of collective
identity |
|
Type of Truth |
Juridical (beyond reasonable doubt); administered by
authority |
Communal (worth preserving); validated by social
consensus |
|
What It Cannot Preserve |
Motive, meaning, grief, agency, community identity |
Precise wording of testimony; specific names and
geography |
|
Epistemological Limit |
Structurally unable to hear what is not solicited by juridical
framework |
Subject to homeostatic forgetting; shaped by present
community needs |
|
Structural Relationship to Power |
Produced by colonial power for colonial purposes |
Produced under colonial pressure, against colonial
silence |
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